'Tis the Season

(I started this post on Dec. 14 and never finished it. I decided today (Jan. 8/08), I'll post it anyways)

I love all the festive gatherings this time of year. I love the Christmas inspired pub crawls and parties and I love the more formal company holiday parties.

I love the smell of pine needles outside the grocery store where all the Christmas trees are waiting to be bought. If my apartment were bigger, I'd have a tree.

Exercise and the Human Body: A Preliminary Study

So I'm trying this new thing: exercising regularly. I'm determined to stick to it this time and so far, three weeks in to "Operation: Get Fit," all is rolling along nicely. I attend several classes at the gym per week, each of which is different and good in it's own way. I basically go as much as my schedule will allow and I'm also making a concerted effort to eat healthier and drinking loads of water.

My goal in all of this is not to lose weight as one might predict. No, it's simply to see if this continued, regular exercise has an detectable results; either internal or external.

Typically, I exercise sporatically. Randomly and irregularly. I'm interested to see what an 8 week period of regular, consistent exercise does to me. This is an experiment in myself.

My hypothesis is that despite this new trend in activity, I will not notice any real results either in the way I look or feel. Perhaps a slight to moderate improvement in stamina and strength but nothing perceptible to anyone but me. I hope to be proven wrong. I hope that the results will be so wonderfully dramatic that I'll relinquish a life of sloth and bad eating and be a master of health. We'll see...

I'm determined to stay on track for the sake of the experiment.

I have determined the end date of this experiment as the day I depart for a week of sloth and excessive drinking at a resort in a TBD location. I do however, plan to continue exercising at this gym into the new year.

I'll post a conclusion on the results, if any, prior to my departure.

I Love Halloween

I hope I never feel too old/cool/unmotivated to dress up on Halloween. I stand by my recent claim that I think I like Halloween more than Christmas. It really should be a holiday.

Homecoming

I was in such a hurry to finish school and get a real job. And now that I've been done for over a year and working, all I can think about is how much I'd love to do it all over again.

Laurier Homecoming over the weekend definitley left me feeling a little nostalgic for those days gone by. Man, I miss being a student. I felt like a bitter, middle-aged woman berrating Graham's little brother at the bar about how he should stay in school as long as possible. "Don't be in a rush to graduate," I remember practically yelling in his face. With a pang of jealousy, we all went on and on about how the next four years were going to be the best of his life. "Yeah, I guess it'll be fun..." he replied nodding. He has absolutley no idea. He probably thought we were all insane! Oh to be 18 again. There's so much I'd do differently and about an equal amount I'd do just the same. Wow, I really sound old don't I?

This is not to say that I look back on the weekend with any sadness. Quite the opposite actually. It was really great getting together with everyone in Waterloo. It was great knowing that no matter where I went, I was bound to bump into someone I hadn't talked to in ages. We rocked out to the live band at the Fox, just like it was first year and I was there drinking for the 10th consecutive Thursday in a row. Graham performed a stunning rendition of Monster Mash two nights in a row entertaining an eclectic crowd of Silver Spur clientele. We went to the football game and saw about 7 mins of football, focusing our efforts on drinking as many cans of beer as we could successfully carry at one time. We ate breakfast at Bennys, we had a drink at Morty's and probably most amusing, we went back to 22 Hickory and had a drink with the new people that live there. A penguin lawn ornament was borrowed and defaced, people were "asked" to leave a campus drinking establishment, the Moses Springer pool had some end-of-season, late-night swimmers and the Comfort Inn is left busy cleaning up the area outside our rooms that looks more like a trailer park than a hotel.

So maybe we've all grown up a bit but certainly, if the weekend proved anything at all, it's that we can all still party like it's frosh week!

Till next year...

My 15 minutes of fame

Our building is having the Designer Guys from HGTV renovate our lobby and party room. As part of the renovation, they've planned wall of black and white photography and have asked tenants to contribute prints for consideration. Of course, I jumped at the opportunity and submitted 18 photos. The flower above was one of them. I'm hoping they select some for the wall. It would be like some sort of validation that I maybe do have an ounce of photographic talent. If not, I'll actually be terribly dissapointed.

Comments welcome. But be nice.

Hurry Up and Wait

This has become my tagline today. I've done all I can do. I've crossed the T's, dotted the I's, hell I even had these things done early but all for naught. Whenever I'm proactive, there's always got to be someone else dragging their heels. The worst part is, I'm the one that ends up looking like the screw-up. Hey folks, I'm just the middle man here. It's not my fault someone else is an idiot.

Someone once told me, the problem with the world is people. Usually, I'd disagree. Generally, I like people. But today, I couldn't agree more. Today, people suck.

To remedy my frustration, I'm going to go to the mall to buy something shiny... Yes, I realize how trivial and materialistic this makes me seem but tomorrow's pay-day and I don't care.

In other news, I won an award at Toastmasters yesterday. I won the "Most Enthusiastic Club Member" aka "Biggest Keener in the Club" Award. As if being in Toastmasters alone doesn't make me nerdy enough already! Anyways, that's one of those corny claims-to-fame I can put on my resume and I got a nice ribbon and Starbucks gift card out of the deal so I can't complain.

I’m sad summer’s over. It went by too quickly and I don’t have near enough cool stories about fun things I did. A small handful, but nothing compared to last year. Anyone reading my blog on any sort of semi-regular basis would probably think my life has slowed down a lot since last year. That makes me sad. Is that what happens when we get older? Time speeds up and fun slows down? This is a pretty bleak outlook on things.

This is a totally random post. I make no apologies.

Lost

I hate being lost. In fact, several years ago I had an almost a paralyzing fear of going anywhere I was unfamiliar with because the fear of getting lost was just too great. I missed out on a lot of opportunities to visit friends in other cities simply because I was too scared to venture off to anywhere I'd never been before. I've since gotten over much of that fear but even now, I am really uncomfortable not knowing where I'm going, particularly when I'm by myself.

Living in Toronto, I find myself lost on a very regular basis but I really try not to let it restrict me from doing fun things. Last night I had an opportunity to visit a local drinking establishment and not surprisingly, I found myself lost in some area of the city I'd never been before while trying to make my way to the bar. I asked several people for directions. All were unhelpful.

While standing at an intersection looking quizzically around me for some indication of the direction of my destination, a older man, in his late 50's or early 60's, approached me and asked where I was going. I told him the street name and he told me I was going the wrong way. He told me directions and I must have looked confused because he said, "Actually, let me just walk you there. It's not far." Oh terrific, I thought. I'm probably going to get raped and mugged by some old creep in an alley somewhere. I found myself instinctively feeling around my purse for the location of my pepper spray. I told him it was not necessary to walk with me. I was sure he had somewhere he must be going and far be it for me to cause him to go out of his way. But he insisted.

As we walked, he began telling me that he was a retired hotel concierge and cab driver. He said he knew the city well and liked helping people find things. That's exactly what I'd tell some young, blonde girl lost on the street corner if I were a psychopath, I thought. As he walked next to me, I listened uncomfortably as he rattled on about his favourite areas of the city and the places that used to be popular when he was my age. He asked my name and where I was from. I reluctantly told him while plotting an escape route in my head should things turn sour. We continued walking. I blindly followed him thinking that he could be leading me anywhere and here I was following like some naive child being lured away by the temptation of a bag of candy.

We reached the destination which to be honest, I likely wouldn't have easily found without his direction. He extended his arm in a friendly handshake to part ways and I awkwardly thanked him for his help. Turns out he really was just some guy with nothing to do who just genuinely wanted to help. I immediatley felt bad for judging him so harshly. But you never know. We're programmed to be suspicious of strangers, and not without good reason.

At least I'll know how to get to this place next time.

Canada Day in the Nation's Capital

What better way to spend a first time visit in Ottawa than on Canada Day? I knew the trip would be a lot of fun but it greatly exceeded my expectations.

Boy was I obnoxious. Get me in a group of fun girls, with no obligations and a ton of booze and it's like a whole new me - one that lacks those moments of internal monologue where you ask yourself whether what you're doing is okay, or illegal... ;)

So I'd like to document the weekend with some stats:

- 10+ hours of driving
- 2 great road trip companions
- 100's of fun songs on the iPod
- 1 visit with Lucky Ron
- 3 VERY hot boys

- 1 severely damaged ego (not ours)
- 2 stolen Canada Day flags
- 1 foiled dine and dash
- 4+ lost friends

- 1 temper tantrum
- 1 illegal entry into the bar
- 3 injuries
- 1 shoulder ride atop a random tall guy
- 1 bottle of expensive champagne
- 2 emergency washroom situations
- 1 experience of local art and culture
- 1 revelation about plaid
- 5 very unhealthy meals
- 1 broken camera
- Many games of in-the-bar flip cup

- 1 lost bottle of gin (later found)
- 0 parking tickets
- 2 brutal hangovers

...and countless fun memories :)

Special thanks to the hostess Danielle for letting us invade her home and make rude comments about her roommates we never met.

Till next year.....

Signs

On my drive along the Gardiner every morning, I notice this Inglis Home Appliance sign that has a digital marquee scrolling along the bottom of it. The message on this sign changes daily and is usually some inspirational quote or thought of the day about wisdom, positive thinking, forgiveness or justice. I like looking at this sign as I creep by in the morning traffic.

But for some reason yesterday the sign said: "Wishing Everyone a Happy Easter."

What the hell? I was confused and dissapointed.

I think the sign operator had a few too many the night before. I think someone probably got fired today.

Delusions of Grandeur

The CEO's of large companies are often these elusive figures you never get a chance to meet. You see them in the news, hear their voices on webcasts or read emails they may have written but a face-to-face meeting is not something an entry level employee like myself ever gets to do.

So imagine my delight when I found myself sharing an elevator with the CEO of my company the other day. I had just returned from purchasing some sushi for lunch and as I travelled up to the fourth floor of my building, the door of the elevator opened up on the second floor to reveal the big man himself. I recognized him instantly. I see his face in the media almost daily. He was taller than I imagined and looked friendly and approachable. As he stepped into the elevator, I felt comfortable saying hello and introducing myself. He asked where I worked and how long I'd been with the company and as we shook hands, I had a glimpse of my future as some ultra important C-level business woman shaking hands with men and women of his status on a daily basis. As I got off the elevator, I felt pleased about the meeting. When I got back to my desk, I bragged about my random encounter like a kid who'd just met Santa Claus. :) I'm sure it's not a sign of great things to come but being able to have the undivided attention of your company's CEO, even for a mere 15 seconds, definitley can't be a bad thing.

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I'd also like to wish my blog a belated happy 1st birthday. My blog celebrated it's one year anniverary on June 14. I'm pleased to have stayed (semi) committed to maintaining this thing for a whole year.

Can You Smell What the Mac is Cookin'?

I received the following email from a former RIM coworker after he asked if I had seen the new BlackBerry. I said no adding that all the people here have these old school ones and walk around thinking they're so tech savvy. It's ridiculous. I responded that I felt like taking their vintage BlackBerry's and shooting them around the office like hockey pucks to which he responded with the following dialogue:


Miranda: "Ooooo, a 7250... aren't you the clever clogs!"

"Get a grip, man! The 7250 is, like, 4 years old! Maybe 5! If you can't keep up, get out! And if you want your piece of crap device back, check the dumpster after work. 'Course, I'm nuking it while I rant, so you might wanna just let it go. 'Specially after I get finished playing ringette down the West Mall with the thing. And stop crying! God, you're pathetic!"

Miranda, upon noticing that everyone's staring with eyes as big as dinner plates and their chins on the floor: "And what are you all looking at? Get back to work! And clean up that coffee spill, Gus, you look like a slob."


Hilarious. (Thanks Ian)

Ode to Lou

For some reason, I always called her Granny. You know how kids all have different names for Grandma and Grandpa? Like Oma and Opa, Gramma and Grandad or like one person I knew, Baba and Gigi. Well, for some reason, they were always Granny and Gramps to me.

She died on Monday night at the age of 85. This wasn't terribly shocking to me. She'd been in the hospital for a month prior after a near heart failure and that experience really sucked out whatever life was left in her. She had advanced stages of Alzheimer's or some other form of dementia. Last time I visited her, I doubt she even knew who I was.

We're not having a funeral and being rational, I understand why. But this really unsettles me. Someone lives for 85 years and there's absolutley nothing to acknowledge this? She just dies alone in a nursing home and that's it? I feel like there should be some closure.

Despite the fact that even in her earlier years, she was a very odd lady, I always remember her being a decent grandmother when I was a kid. She used to steal those jam or honey packets from McDonald's and then give them to me out in the yard or in the car to eat when my parents would never let me eat them. Not sure what the allure was in eating plain jam but for some reason I thought it was some awesome and delicious act of rebellion coordinated by my grandmother.

Her and my grandfather spoiled me rotten. For Christmas, I'd pick out anything I wanted and it was mine, no questions asked. I'd shop around in the mall selecting all the items I liked and then drag along my poor grandparents to each store to make the purchase. They always seemed happy to do it and my grandma really got no greater joy than pleasing me with presents.

She used to make these shortbread cookies that I loved as a kid. She knew I loved them and every time we'd visit, she'd have one of those old-school cookie tins filled with them.

They used to spend their winters in Victoria and I loved visiting as a kid. Every morning we'd walk around a giant pond and feed swans and geese with bread crusts. She always complained that the walk was too exhausting but came anyways because she needed her "exercises."

She had a real sweet tooth. Her Christmas presents always consisted of several boxes of chocolate that she would polish off before noon. When we'd question her gluttony, she'd lie and say there were still some left. We knew better. The evidence was usually all over her hands and in her false teeth.

She had a very scattered mind which was probably an early indication of her later ailments but it often caused us much amusement. Once I found her out in our front yard holding a coffee cup in one hand, a metal coat hanger in the other and staring up at the sky. When I asked her what she was doing, she replied casually "Oh, just looking for my purse."

Her passing is not entirely sad. She was not really living a life anymore anyways. In fact, she really hadn't been living anything resembling life since my grandfather passed away 5 years ago. I know my mom and her never got along so there likely won't be any fond reminiscing about her next time I see my parents. I imagine we won't even talk about it. For me though, it's important that I acknowledge her life because she was the only grandmother I knew.

So to Granny - May she rest in peace :)
xoxoxox

Feedback

It seems like the harder I work, the more I screw stuff up. I keep telling myself it's because I'm still new at this PR stuff and I'm bound to make mistakes. It's really the only way to learn around here. I did something really dumb today and got a nice "you really fucked up" phone call on my cell all the way from Vegas. I hate feeling stupid and i'm feeling stupid a lot at work these days. I have really been busting my butt and the majority of the feedback I get is when i've screwed something up. I need to learn to have thicker skin. Criticism really gets to me. That's why I could never be a journalist. Turns out PR's not a hell of a lot different. Anyways, none of this is the end of the world and really, despite how many "you're an idiot" emails I get in a day, it's ones like this that motivate me to keep going:

"Thanks. They [my reports on our news coverage from the conference] are VERY helpful. While I have seen some of the news you capture, I haven't seen all of it ... and I truly appreciate it.

Thank you for adding me and keeping me posted.

Have a nice afternoon.

Colleen

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I've moved again and now have a nice sense of permanence and stability. Cathy is a super roommate. We get along great, laugh a lot and have the same irresistible attraction to wine. Shout out to Cathy for her 22nd bday yesterday and heads up for the housewarming set for June 16! Let the good times roll!

Miranda vs. The Landlord

I'm really starting to wonder if you have to be an asshole to be a landlord or if that's just a symptom of the job. Maybe it's a bit of both. In any event, I have had the absolute worst experiences with every landlord, property manager and superintendent I've had contact with since I started renting in 2003. I'm actually starting to wonder if it's me.

Take this week for instance. The super at my current building decides that he should restrict tenants access to the laundry room past 10 pm. I had three loads of laundry going around 9:30 and when I went to retreive them at 10:15, the door was locked. It wouldn't be a huge problem except it doesn't open again till 8:00 am and I leave for work at 7:30. I'm sure as hell not about to leave my literal entire wardrobe unattended all day long for any creep to come steal a nice bunch of second-hand, newly washed clothes. So I called him. Big mistake. He yelled and swore at me saying things like "Do you know how to read a f*cking sign?" "I make allowances for all my tenants why the f*ck should i make allowances for you?" etc, etc, etc... so after much begging and pleading, he agreed to open the laundry room with the guarantee that he is not to ever hear from me again. No problem!

You make stupid rules, expect to get stupid phone calls.

Or how about the ongoing Grand River Property Management issue I had with my friend PH after my basement apartment flooded twice, soaking the carpet with toilet water and ruining the contents of my closets. After several formal letters and zero reimbursement, I'm to take his rationale that "because I live in a basement apartment, I should expect that it floods periodically." What a dick.

And then there was my all time favourite place at 98 Bridegport with Eleanor and Graeme; the sweet old British couple who turned out to be the biggest jerks of my renting experience. My car was blocked in daily in a parking spot that I paid for, they entered our house without permission on a regular basis, the basement also flooded several times and they refused to do any sort of maintenance including fixing the leaking roof or removing the squirrels that lived in the ceiling. That experience nearly ended in a court case. In the end, I left a month early and lost a month's rent just to avoid the constant bullshit.

And most recently, before I even move into my new home, I have problems with the super intendent. I called to proactively inform my new super of our move-in dates to which she informed me "were out of the question." Apparently, you can only move in on the dates and times that she approves. Well, that's fabulous. I have a very small window of opportunity where I can get time off work and people to help me move and she tells me it's not possible. Before i've even moved into this new place, we've already had three rather hostile phone conversations. In the end, I managed to smooth things over with my superiour negotiation skills and endearing personality and the conversation ended with her making some accomodations to suit my needs and her telling me to "remember around Christmas time that she likes red wine."

If you're a super, you should expect to have tenants calling you regularly about issues. Why do they act like it's the biggest bloody inconvenience to have to do their job?! It's not like they didn't know what they were signing up for when they applied.

Clearly, my frustration is evident. I can't beleive I've had this neverevending landlord/tenant drama for almost 5 years. I'm really starting to wonder if maybe it's not them, it's me...

Time

It must be a sign that I'm getting older when the years start to seem shorter and shorter. Someone asked me at work the other day about school and I said "I just graduated last April..." Just? I suddenly realized that I graduated a year ago! I've been working full-time for the past year! A working adult for 12 months, working 9-5 every day of every week for an entire year. It was actually sort of shocking. I am definitley not a student anymore. Has it really not sunk in yet?

So as time creeps by quicker and quicker, I can't help but wonder if one day, I'll wake up elderly and reminisce fondly about "the good 'ol days" or a more frightening thought: maybe not be able to reminisce at all. Seeing my ailing grandmother in the hospital over Easter weekend was a really depressing indication of time. After 85 years on earth, her life is reduced to a chair with a table tray that holds her hostage because "she wanders." She is a literal shell of a human being with no awareneness of where she is or who's around her. It's terribly sad to see her like this. I like the vision of the elderly as old and wise with some innate knowledge about the world and a million stories and life lessons to tell. To live to 85 only to die like this is an awful tragedy. It comforts me some to know that she really lacks the mental capacity to feel sorry for herself. Her life is reduced to sleeping and eating.

In any event, I shouldn't be depressed about time at 23. Someone who's advice I greatly value once said: If you can't be happy now, you never will be - A simple but astute oberservation. I still have a lot of great years ahead. I'd like to continue with my rationale that I just keep getting better with age; like a fine wine.

Spring

No matter how long the winter, spring is sure to follow. ~Proverb

The Many Faces of Yours Truly

Church Secretary

Yes, this woman and I likely share nothing in common except our name. She seems like a very wholesome, noble woman though.

Scottish Radio Host

The resemblance is uncanny. haha

And my all time favourite...

Fairy Princess

Yikes! I think the scariest thing about this is that she LIVES in the Toronto area. Imagine I ran into her?! Although I doubt that Snow White and I attend the same gatherings. She seems to frequent the 4-6 year old crowd ;)

There was in fact, a real reason I was google searching my name today. There's been a barrage of email and phone calls from random reporters pitching stories directly to me and my team lead wondered where they were getting my contact information. He suggested I search on Google. Turns out among my many talents, i'm also listed as a media relations contact on our company website. hah. News to me. ;)

On Coaching

Alas, my experience as an assistant coach of the Kitchener Wildcats has come to an end... and not without a high-stress, incredibly close, nail-biter of a final game. For that incredible effort, those kids deserved gold, but we'll have to settle for bronze. Even waking up at 6 am after less than 2 hours of sleep and semi-consciously speeding to Elora after missing my ride was worth it to see that win.

As much as I whined about the long drives and the often thankless effort on my part, I really did enjoy this experience. In retrospect, it was definitley worth it. I'm not sure that my presence on this team will have any lasting impact on these kid's lives, but they've certainly made a mark in mine.

Here's a copy of the speech I said at the appreciation dinner.

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I've let Joe do most of the talking this season so I wanted to take this opportunity to share my experience coaching this team. I played ringette for 11 years and I'll never forget a coach who, at the end of the year during our appreciation dinner, would stand up and give this long-winded, hour-long speech about the team, going girl by girl and highlighting everything from unforgettable goals to unfair penalties to injuries. We all hated it. And ironically, when I sat down to write something about this team, I started doing the same thing. It's hard not to when you have such great memories about each player on this team. You'll all be pleased to know that I tossed that speech out the window and I promise to keep this short and sweet.

First let me just say what an incredible bunch of girls these are. I feel lucky to have had the privelege to get to know each of them over the past 8 months. It's pretty amazing to look back and remember what their first game was like after watching them win the bronze in that fantastic final game against Guelph on Sunday. I couldn't be more proud. This team had several first time players and huge variety of skill levels. I'll never forget the first game where I told one of the girls, "Okay, you're left wing" and she looked back at me with utter confusion and asked: "What's a wing?" It's been a really satisfying experience for me to watch this group of girls go from a disorganized bunch of skaters to a really sucessful ringette team.

One thing I noticed right away about this team is their sportsmanlike attitude which is incredibly admirable. There was never any animosity or fighting between the girls. They played as a team and helped each other do well and it paid off. They're a happy, energetic and genuinely nice group of girls that were never discouraged with a loss.

Having moved to Toronto mid-season for a job opportunity I really put this team in a tough position and I'd like to thank everyone for bearing with me in the last four months. Thanks to the moms that stood in for me when I couldn't make it, thanks to Frank for dealing with the paperwork and the administrative stuff and thanks to Joe and Jay for keeping me in the loop on tournaments and games. Thanks also to the girls for welcoming me back after a mysterious 4-week absence as I got my self settled in Toronto.

Being a part of this team has been an absolutley unforgettable experience. I wouldn't have made weekly trips from Toronto and gotten up at the crack of dawn to attend their games if I didn't totally love being there. Beleive me, there's not a lot of things in this world that can get me out of bed before 6:00 am. You've inspired me to seek out a Toronto local team and play again. As much as I loved being a coach, I think i'm a player at heart.

So thank you for this opportunity. It's been fun. Best of luck in your future ringette seasons!!

Retiring Early

Historically, I haven't been very good with money. I frivolously spent what little money I had, I did a really poor job of tracking my finances and the words "RRSP" and "investing" likely never entered my vocabulary. Consequently, I became a really easy target for theft. And it cost me.

Now you'd think having gone through something like that would have motivated me to get a handle on my finances and start changing some bad practices into wiser, financial choices. But no. I really didn't change much. I was quite willing to live pay cheque to pay cheque and continue poor spending habits as long as when I hit OK on that debit keypad, it came back saying "Approved."

It really wasn't until this guy named Graham came into my life that I actually started to realize that I needed to make some changes. Making some small changes was by no means easy. It was hard to start distributing my money around into different accounts without feeling like i'd somehow lost some. i liked the feeling of seeing that lump sum all in one account. And of course, i'm pretty risk averse so the mere mention of some potential loss through investing scared me to death. I'm by no means an expert, nor am I anywhere close to a perfectly set financial future but I think the most important thing is that I'm thinking about it and trying to learn. I started an RRSP, I'm attending a Basic Retirement and Savings investment Course through work and I am much more dilligent about tracking my money through online banking.

I recently read this article in BusinessWeek about a couple who were able to retire in their late 30's after several years of smart saving and investing. Although this is rather unusual, its definitley been inspirational. Before i really cared about money, I thought that thinking about retirement when you're 23 was an utterly ludicrous idea. When Graham asked me where I saw myself in 30 years, I nearly burst out laughing. I have a hard time deciding what to wear in the morning let alone what my life might look like at 50. Anyways, turns out thinking about retirement in your early twenties really isn't a stupid idea at all. It's actually quite smart.

So when I'm a rich old lady, floating around on my yacht off the coast of some idyllic setting and sipping vintage wine out of fancy glasses, writing my memoirs, I'll remember to thank Graham. Without him, my financial future future might be in shambles. I'd likely need to hire some financial advisor and waste more money rather than saving any. At least Graham's advice comes for free ;)

Sleep

I've often said that bed time is my favourite time of day. Bed time, nap time, they're both great times... But lately, I haven't been getting very much sleep. Not by choice, just for various reasons of having to get up early and go places or for the simple fact that I just stay up too late. So last night, being the ultra cool person that I am, I decided to go to bed at 10:00 pm because I had nothing better to do and I figured a solid 9 hours would be good for me. So much for that theory. This afternoon, I feel more tired than I have in a long time. I just caught myself staring blankly at this complicaetd spreadsheet I'm creating. I'm attempting Graham's tried-and-true time wasting strategy of pretending to work while you're really just sleeping with your eyes open. The trick is to appear like you're really struggling to analyze the data in a spreadsheet, when in reality, you're really spacing out or pretty much alseep.

I mentioned my drowsiness to a coworker and she said that it's possible to actually be "over-slept." Apparently having too much sleep is just as bad as not enough. Go figure. What a fickle, silly thing sleep is. Ironically, I also heard on the radio on my commute to work this morning that a lack of sleep is cited as one of the major contributing causes in such disasters as Chernobyl and the Hubble space shuttle disaster. I heard this while driving on the 401 struggling to keep my eyes open... wishing I had a coffee.

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In other news, it's my dear cat Harley's 4th birthday today. I bought her some decadent cat food and some new treats and I made her a little birthday sign for above her cat bowls. I realize she neither notices nor cares and that this looks like the beginnings of insane-cat-lady-syndrome, but she's a cool cat and her birthday deserves to be recognized. I'm hoping Graham will come over later and sing "Happy Birthday" to her. :)

Moral Dilemma

Usually I like to limit the posts in this blog to my cheerful musings on my life or just light, fluffy writing about nothing in particular. When I was in the writer's club in high school, I used to roll my eyes at those girls that wrote nothing but angst-y, heart-wrenching poems about heartbreak and sadness. Arguably though, expressing these sadder emotions through writing is cathartic; an effective form of therapy I suppose. Often, these more intense emotions are the motivation to write.

So with that as an introduction, I feel compelled to write about my current moral dilemma.

My grandmother is sick. Well, sick is an understatement. She's dieing. She's in the hospital in the palliative care ward being treated for heart problems. Problems, they say, she will not recover from without an invasive surgery to install a pacemaker. The nurses actually told my mom that the humane thing to do is to "let her go." My first reaction upon hearing this news was to go home and see her at the first opportunity. However, my mom insists that I "don't bother." My grandmother has symptoms of a more advanced stage of Alzheimer's (or some form of dementia) and likely wouldn't recognize me or if she did, even remember that I had been there at all. I insisted that this isn't really the point. If I know she's dieing and I make no effort to go see her, what sort of human being am I? Yes, it's inconvenient to go all the way there and know that my effort won't even be recognized but does that matter?

My mom has an unusually callous attitude about the whole thing. The way she talks about the approaching death of her mother is so nonchalant, it's creepy. I realize that their relationship has never been good and in terms of love, there's not a lot there but again, I'm not sure this is the point.

So I'm torn.

But I'll need to make a decision soon because this is a seriously time sensitive issue. The thought of her dieing alone and confused in the hospital is awfully sad. It's hard to follow your gut and do what you think is right when your parents, the people you've looked to for guidance and advice all your life, are telling you to do the opposite. Ultimately, this isn't something I'd be doing for my grandmother, it's something I'd be doing for me

Random funnies from the Dominican...

We met some interesting characters in the Dominican, most notably, our friend from the market who seemed to think he was some ultra trendy hip-hop fan. He was hard to miss, with his oversized Eminem tshirt and his sideways black hat with enormous sequined letters on it. As we approached him, we noticed something odd about his attire. My cousin approached him and asked:

"Hey, what does your hat say?"

"Rrrrap-eh," he said proudly and began immitating some drum beats and dancing.

We tried to suppress our laughter as we looked at his hat that clearly said RAPE in huge sparkly letters.

"No," my cousin said. "Your hat says 'rape.' Do you know what that means?" She then explains that his hat is actually an English word that means forcing someone to have sex with you. I chuckle in the background the entire time.

Unphased, he continues his sales pitches to various tourists as they hurry past his booth. Evidently, his English was not all that great. We saw him the next day wearing the same hat. Hilarious.

***********

At the resort we stayed at, some of the staff would routinely bring around exotic animals for tourists to hold and have their pictures taken with. Later you were to seek out your photo and purchase it for some outrageous price. There were parrots and iguanas and a snake but most exciting was a tiny monkey! So naturally, when the monkey came around, my cousins and I decided we needed our photos taken. Being mature and patient, we let the little cousins go first - Shevonne who's 5 and Christianne, 10. Shevonne holds out her hands and they place the monkey in her arms. Adorable. The monkey looks as if it's nuzzling up to her face when, all of a sudden, it lashes out angrily and bites her near her eye! They grab the monkey out of her hands and apologize as she tries not to cry.

We should have known to stop there but Christianne steps up.

They place the monkey in her arms and same thing. The monkey bites her in the ear. They grab the monkey out of her arms claiming the monkey is "loco crazy, needs rest." We immediatley assume it has rabies.

Okay, we should have been concerned over our cousins saftey but it was utterly hilarious. Maybe it was the rum. Maybe you had to be there. I still chuckle about it when I think of the rabid monkey bites.

Needless to say, I never held the monkey

A blog post about... blogs

Between moving to Toronto and starting a new job, I somehow lost interest in this blog, as I'm sure anyone who ever read it also has. Maybe I've been too busy. Maybe I just don't have anything interesting to say.

At work lately, I've been doing a lot of blog tracking as a form of media analysis. Apparently blogs are much more influential in mainstream media than I give them credit for. We had a training session the other day on how PR can work with bloggers and it was evident that working with bloggers is becoming as important as working with reporters. However, one common thread running through all this was that it seems that both reporters and bloggers need to be spoon-fed a packaged story complete with quotes, pictures and all the information they need to start writing. They don't want to have to follow-up or confirm information. They don't want to have to call you or dig for the news element in a story. They want a one-stop shop or they're not interested. Their time, they say, is far too valuable to be wasted on pursuing vague story pitches or clarifying incomplete information.

Whatever happened to chasing the story? There seems to have been a serious shift in media since my days as a reporter. You have to give reporters the whole story, complete with catchy headline and hard-hitting quotes or they won't even bother.

While I'm on the topic of blogs, the main reason I was inspired to write anything at all today was because I came across an interesting quote in one of the more prominent blogs we monitor. The blogger was commenting on the new blog written by the CTO and was chastising him for not posting more regularly. Being a sporadic blogger myself, the following quote stuck with me:

"You can’t be afraid of making a commitment when you launch a blog. You’ve got to nurture it, tend to it, give it some love and attention and, most important, write on a fairly regular basis. Otherwise, it loses some of its energy and people will stop visiting. So, let’s get writing."

To be honest though, I didn't create this blog with the intention that it would have profound influence on the masses. I don't even really care if anyone ever reads it. I created it as a motivation for me to write. So far, I guess it hasn't been that successful. Apparently, in one month, the only thing I'm capable of producing is a blog post about...blogs.

Moving

I hate moving. Of all the change that just occurred, the actual move to Toronto was not something I was dreading terribly. In fact, I was excited to reorganize and purge all my junk I accumulated at my old place. I'd like to think I'm not a pack-rat but last week's move certainly proved otherwise. "How many mugs does one girl need?!" my new roommate asked as she unpacked strange mug #27 from the tenth box marked "Kitchen Stuff." I bombarded her home and filled it with my stuff and even breaking several things en route didn't seem to help control the clutter. 15 hours and many strained muscles later, it's become crystal clear to me: I have way too much stuff.

The move was long, arduous and much more exhausting than I ever anticipated. It was one of those days where everything takes 7 times longer than you anticipate. Everytime I looked at the moving truck, the boxes seemed endless and the more we brought into the apartment, the less convinced I was that I was ever going to fit it all in here. But somehow, everything found it's place... just don't look under my bed...or in the closet.

I have to give a huge shout-out to my moving team: my parents, Lindsay, Graham and especially Tina and Alicia. These girls gave up their entire day, strained their muscles, entertained my mom and basically kept me sane when my patience was wearing very thin. We learned that Tina basically has superhuman strength and can lift pretty much anything. We also learned that tropical fish can survive in a bucket for over 6 hours in the winter and I think Alicia and my mom are now BFF's (haha). I appreciate your help more than you know!

PS - I'm moving again May 1. ;)

Quote of the day

I was lamenting to a friend about my anxiety over all the upcoming change in my life and in an attempt to console me he said: "Just put your faith in the enthralling beauty of your soul." How ridiculous I thought. But a nice thing to say nonetheless.

He claimed that the quote spawned from a day-time cold medicine induced high so the sentiment was more from drugs rather than poetic genius. Nevertheless, I wrote the quote on a sticky note and smile every time I look at it.

2006: One hell of a year

Unlike 2005, I'm sad to put 2006 to rest. It was an absolutley great year for so many reasons.

I graduated, I travelled all over the world, I had a fabulous summer full of great parties and memories and I'm in a great relationship with someone who makes me happy. I also landed a job as a Media Relations Specialist which seemed like a total impossibility six months ago. Unlike 2005, I think I spent over 90% of 2006 being delightfully happy.

2007 scares me a little. Within the first few weeks of this year I'll have a new home, a new job, live in a new city with a new roommate. I'm pretty averse to change so all of this at once is pretty intimidating. Overall though, I'm excited. It's time to start my real career... but that also means I have to grow up. I was talking to a friend yesterday and he asked:

"So, is the year of the party over?"

No, I said, it will just be classier, more expensive parties.

"Oh," he said. "So no more keggers in the garage?"

"I guess not," I said and I was actually sort of sad about this.

Maybe we don't have to grow up just yet. I'm sure we can still go out, drink too much, act silly and abuse our bodies for a little while longer. Maybe we'll just buy more expensive beer. ;)