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. ;)

Christmas Chaos

With a sigh of relief, I fully completed all my Christmas shopping last night. I even wrapped some presents. I was feeling a slight weight lifted from my shoulders as I started thinking about lounging in my parents hot tub and drinking copious amounts of red wine.

But then, my mom suddenly decides that she'd like me to "pick up a few things in the city" before I come home. Fabulous. Out to brave the masses once again. And it's not just regular items she wants. She decides today, five days before Christmas, that she'd like a marine barometer. Whaaaaat?

Since my parents bought their boat in the summer, they've decided to join marine life in full force, buying every boating accessory they can find. Although they claim they aren't quite snotty enough yet to join the yacht club.

So my hunt for a marine barometer begins with a quick search for "marine" and "boating" in the Yellow Pages. I called a couple stores but they didn't have one. On my third attempt I reached a store in Cambridge that claimed he could have one for me by the end of the week if I talked to his receptionist. They were "moving" he said and it was noisy. So my conversation with the oh so intelligent receptionist goes like this:

Me: "Hi. I was told to give you my contact information so you could order me a marine barometer."

Receptionist: "What's a marine barometer?"

Me: "Uh... I'm not sure actually. My mom wants one for their boat."

Receptionist: "Oh, is it like a regualar barometer?"

Me: "I really don't know." (Shouldn't YOU know? You're the marine store!)

She takes my contact info, spelling my name MEranda. I don't bother correcting her. She has no idea how much this item costs nor when it might be in. The conversation continues as such:

Me: "Okay, so where is your store located?"

Receptionist: "I'm not sure exactly. In Cambridge I think."

Me: "Uh... can you give me directions?"

Receptionist: "I'll have someone call you back." (Seriously, how does this woman not know where she works??)

Me: "Alright. So I want to come pick it up on Saturday morning. Are you open on Saturdays?"

Receptionist: "Uh... I'm actually not sure."

Me: "Right." (At this point, I'm seriously contemplating hanging up but the receptionist beats me to the punch)

Receptionist: "Thanks a lot for calling. Buh-bye!"

Seriously, wtf. Some help she was.

I wouldn't get your hopes up for a barometer under the tree this year.

So...

I've apparently become entirely delinquent at updating this blog. I think it's because the only things I've been thinking about lately are angst-ridden uncertainty and anxiety about my future. However, I think things have figured themselves out and I can probably chill.

I got a new job. My dream job in fact. Perhaps not with my dream company but it's the job. An investment in "the future Miranda" as Graham says. I am the new Media Relations Specialist for Nortel and aside from the 45% pay increase, I'm totally thrilled to be heading to Toronto and starting my REAL career. It is refreshing to know I'll have a career, not just some job I work at for the pay cheque. Money only sustains you for so long.

I also found an apartment AND a roommate which is exciting :) It'll be strange to go from a two bedroom apartment all my own to one room in a place that isn't mine at all...but it will be a nice change. I'm looking forward to moving. I'm looking forward to purging all my old stuff and clutter and starting over somewhere new.

I've been looking back over 2006 and thinking smugly about how fabulous it was. I knew on New Year's Eve 2005 that '06 was gonna be a great year. I said it over and over... I remember. I was like my new years mantra. And I'm not sure if it was merely the power of suggestion, but 2006 was pretty much the best year of my life.

With all the change coming up in early 2007, I'm excited to see what the new year has in store for me. I'm no longer dreading it.

Bring it on :)

You know you're Canadian when....

...The item obstructing the intersection and causing a minor traffic jam is a hockey stick.

Change

"It takes a lot of courage to release the familiar and seemingly secure, to embrace the new. But there is no real security in what is no longer meaningful. There is more security in the adventurous and exciting, for in movement there is life, and in change there is power."

- Alan Cohen

I would love if I had this attitude about change but I've realized lately that I'm pretty averse to any drastic adjustments in my life. The thought of changing jobs, moving and starting something new, is intimidating and terrifying to me. I know I should embrace change and get excited about it, but my overwhelming feeling these days is that of anxiety and dread. As much as I dislike my current job, I often wonder if uprooting my life and moving somewhere else for a new job will be any better? Will I regret it? Will I wish I stayed in my secure position in my comfortable, roomy apartment in Waterloo? Does the grass just seem greener on the other side?

I'm afraid that my fear is going to paralyze me into inactivity. I seem to be really good at coming up with 700 negative reasons to turn down every opportunity that comes my way. I have a great potential job offer for a position I often dream about but somehow, I've practically dimissed it as an option before I've even had an interview.

I really need an attitude adjustment. My fear is irrational.

I LOVE Halloween!

I seriously love Halloween. I wish there were more occassions during the year to put a costume on. I will never be too old for dressing silly and eating candy till my tongue hurts. Fantastic time! More pics are posted at my Photos link for any interested parties ;)

T's and C's are BS

So I'm at work, procrastinating because the task before me is about as appealing as eating shit for breakfast. I have to write a Terms and Conditions document. You know, those microprinted Legal-looking documents that no one ever reads and just clicks "I Accept." Yeah, that's my job. For someone who considers themselves a moderatley creative human being, this is a good way to suck the soul out of you.

However, I have to keep my rage muted; carry on complacently pretending I don't want to rip my eyeballs out and chuck my keyboard out the window.

I keep having these cruel fantasies about adding something offensive to the copy to see if anyone catches it... something like:

2. ELIGIBILITY: You are eligible to participate in the Promotion if you are: (a) a legal resident of the Qualifying Countries and have reached the age of majority in the province, state or district in which you reside; (b) you are a closet child molester for a full launch carrier with a slight tendency to remove your clothing in public; (c) you are employed as a Support Representative during the Promotion Period....

Maybe I would have more motivation for this on a Monday. Maybe my other tasks will be more appealing... or maybe I will just get a whole new job altogether. I've restarted my rigorous job search looking for something that allows to me to make use of that mult-thousand dollar degree I recently obtained. Honestly, somedays all I can think is that "I am SO much better than this!"

They've recently moved me to a new cube. Yes, a luxary 3-wall semi-enclosed space with my very own file cabinet and built-in white board. Sadly, this actually made me a little bit excited to come to work. If this is as good as it gets, I need to get out. Fast.

Tonight, I will be drinking copious amounts of booze to help me forget about all this. I will look forward to those job offers in the near future for something that actually resembles a career rather than the monotonous monkey work that is my job.

Tis the Season

...for a ghost story :) Here's one I wrote...because my mom begged me to for this Halloween event she's hosting in Kincardine. Since this is the first peice of creative writing I've done in a terribly long time, I thought I'd unleash it onto the world.

Enjoy!


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It was an unseasonably cold day for October, the kind of day you can almost smell winter approaching. The wind howled menacingly outside, creating a high-pitched whistle as it traveled between the weathered window panes.

Hilda MacLean sat up in her chair and peered out of the darkened windows onto a dimly lit Durham Street. The creases around her eyes deepened as she squinted at the night sky. Just the hint of a smile crept across her face as she watched, with interest, the slow and eerie rise of a grinning full moon. “A perfect night for All Hallow’s Eve,” she thought to herself.

The loud purring which reached the old woman’s ears came from the black cat that had leapt up on the table next to the rocking chair she was sitting in.

“Yes, my sweet,” she said to the cat. “Isn’t this a pretty night we have in store for us?”

As if comprehending every word Hilda said, the cat’s piercing green eyes stared deep into the old woman’s wrinkled orbs.

“You know what this means, don’t you my pretty?” The cat meowed softly in response. “It is the passing of an age, is what it is. A transition. Many long years I’ve seen, my pretty, but there is an ending to every story, and Hilda has seen it all, yes indeed.”

Hilda shifted uncomfortably in her rocking chair, and pushed herself up with a groan. She stood, awkwardly, stroking the cat’s fur with one gnarled finger. Coughing loudly, she made her way to the kitchen to prepare some tea.

“Oh, this ol’ gal ain’t what she used to be,” she said gruffly. More coughing. Hilda weakly cleared her throat. She reached for her teacup, but suddenly froze mid-reach. A deep pain attacked her chest. Her eyes bulged, and she stopped dead in her tracks. The teacup fell to the ground with a smash. The cat’s ears perked in the other room; its eyes widened, knowingly.

Hilda died suddenly, her dilapidated body now crumpled in a heap on the kitchen floor.

Trick-or-treaters came knocking, but left empty handed. Mail arrived and piled up outside her door. Days passed and, sadly, no one noticed her absence.

One afternoon, many days later, the mailman arrived, and noting that the mail from the previous week had not been collected, became suspicious. He knocked loudly on the door. “Mrs. MacLean,” he called. “Are you there?” Nothing. He knocked again, longer and louder. Still nothing, although he swore he could hear soft purring coming from inside. But he couldn’t be sure.

Concerned at the old woman’s apparent disappearance, he decided to call the OPP. It was not like Hilda to have left her home. After all, she hadn’t left it in over 20 years.

Later that evening, the police arrived and went inside, fearing the worst. They had seen this type of tragedy before. However, nothing could have prepared them for what was about to happen.

The door was unlocked, and the house was alarmingly hot and quiet. More alarming however, was the horrific stench, a smell the officers knew all too well. They slowly crept around, shining flashlights in dark corners, looking for the source of the odour, or for any clue as to Hilda’s whereabouts.

“Hey, come have a look at this!” shouted one of the officers. He pointed at the several clocks around Hilda’s living room. All of them were stopped at the same time: 11:59.

Then they saw it: Hilda’s horribly decomposed body in the middle of the kitchen floor. Her skin, a rotten grey colour, hung in clumps from her face and arms. Her eyes were sunken in, the sockets hollow and dried out. Her hair hung in grey, tangled clumps around her grotesque and ghoulish head. The smell was nauseating.

Then they heard something: a soft purring was coming from…Hilda’s body! The officer’s exchanged quizzical glances, leaned forward, and shone their flashlights. On the other side of the corpse - to their absolute horror - they could see Hilda’s black cat, now mangy and thin, gnawing on the old woman’s right hand. The cat had chewed off several fingers and was working its way through the knuckles.

Annoyed by the interruption, the cat let out a hideous screech, and lifting its blood-covered face into the light, leapt over the corpse, and under the kitchen table, safe from the intruders.

“Lord have mercy,” muttered Constable Jim Martin.

Just as he was turning his face away from the horrifying sight, their eyes met. The cat instantly arched its back, hissed, and stared menacingly at the officer, its piercing green eyes wide and wicked. Constable Martin recoiled backwards, as if shot in the chest by some unseen bullet, and smashed heavily into the opposite wall of the kitchen. His eyes were on fire! He clawed frantically at the afflicted orbs; his terrible screams sending shivers down the other officer’s backs.

Momentarily confused by what had just happened, the other officers gathered their wits about them, and quickly tended to their colleague.

“I can’t see!” he wailed. “I can’t see anything! I’m blind!” Constable Martin, a 10-year veteran of the Ontario Provincial Police, collapsed into a slump on the floor and began sobbing like a frightened child.


Constable Jim Martin had been instantly struck blind. No doctor could offer any rational explanation as to the cause.

Later, Hilda’s body was removed and buried. Her cat, however, was never found.

Live Large

When I told my Dad that I was going to England for the Thanksgiving weekend, he said, with a tone of absolute audacity, "Who on earth goes to England for a weekend?" Why not, I asked? If you have the opportunity, do it. He also posed a similar question when I told him I was headed to Miami for the August long weekend: "Who goes to Florida in the middle of summer?" he asked. Apparently my Dad is much too conservative to understand the excitement that accompanies these short but sweet adventures. Gearing up for retirement, he's the kind of guy who books his 2-week long resort vacation in Cuba two months in advance. He finds spontaneity stressful rather than thrilling.

I'm glad I didn't inherit this limiting attitude. Maybe my dad was more of a thrill-seeker back in the day. Although, I have a feeling he was always this conventional and unadventurous.

I think Mark Twain says it best:

"Twenty years from now you will be more disappointed by the things that you didn't do than by the ones you did do. So throw off the bowlines. Sail away from the safe harbor. Catch the trade winds in your sails. Explore. Dream. Discover."

I heart Fall

"Everyone must take time to sit and watch the leaves turn."

- Elizabeth Lawrence

All the best on your birthday

Today I got a birthday card in the mail. It was from the owners of the pilates studio that I go to once a week so I assumed that it would be some boring, "wishing you all the best on your special day" bullshit that's normally in those stock cards you get from places you give money to. At Christmas, I received a total of 2 cards in the mail... from my insurance company and my cat sitter (Yes, I have a cat sitter) and they were both one-sentence Hallmark style messages accompanied by a signature. I could practically re-use them. I do appreciate the effort but there's nothing heartfelt about a message like that... not that I really expect anything heartfelt from an insurance company....anyways....

This card, though simple, was a little different. In the owner's handwriting it said:

"Life is not measured by the number of breaths we take but by the moments that take our breath away. Happy Birthday."

I liked it. I've heard the quote before but the fact that it was handwritten seemed to make it more personal. It's a nice feel-good kind of quote. In fact, everything about that pilates studio is feel-good. And maybe I'm deluded, but I actually think I'm seeing results.

****************************************

Speaking of my birthday, I can't help but mention what I now have planned. Graham asked me to go to England with him!! ENGLAND! I'm basically still recovering from shock. So on Oct. 5, we're leaving for the Thanksgiving weekend on an overseas adventure! Honestly, could this guy be any more incredible? I have a feeling this is going to be a good birthday. :)

Reality Check

I sometimes have these moments where I convince myself that I can sing. These moments normally occur in my car when the volume is cranked and mostly drowning out my voice. This happened today and as a test, I turned the volume down and sang some more only to be convinced once again that I am in fact, a terrible singer. Damn you genetics. Where were you on this one?!

**************************

Today I finally got a new driver's license picture. The first one since my original, day-I-turned-16, deer-in-the-headlights shot back in 2000. According to a coworker, I "look like a baby" in that photo. Strangely though, I've never had any trouble with it at the bar. Nor have the two 18 year olds I gave my old licenses to as far as I know ;) Two - three weeks till I see what will be the next photo to last the next 6 years.

***************************

So homecoming came and went in a blur of drunken partying. I have patchy memories of the whole day. I guess that's what happens when you attend breakfast keggers and start your day off with a large Tim Horton's coffee that's heavy on the Baileys, low on the coffee. Great day though. I saw pretty much every single person I've ever met in university, saw a football game (by saw, I mean drank in the beer tents), and got drunk three seperate times in one day. Highlights include a beer-filled water gun, Graham and I unofficially winning "The drunkest couple" award, Patillo nipping at Cathy's breakfast sausage on a fork and countless games of flip cup. I was having a hard time adjusting to this new life as a non-student. I was feeling old and sad. But with weekends like this, it seems like being an alumni isn't so bad afterall ;)

You know you're old when...

Your two options for Friday night are:


1) A Wine and Cheese party


2) Attending the K/W Symphony

My world turned upside down

Time has literally dissapeared since I returned from my Costa Rican adventure. I've had a draft post saved that's a long winded play-by-play about what a wonderful, life changing experience it was but I deleted it. I realized that nothing I say, no pictures I show anyone or anything I write will ever do it justice. That trip was incredible. Life changing, eye-opening and inspirational. To see a sucessful experiment in sustainable living and witness a community living and working in complete harmony with nature was absolutley refreshing. Sometimes I feel like this world is doomed but being there really instilled new hope in me.

While I was on the trip I kept a trip journal of sorts - well, more like some scrawlings of random thoughts and substandard poetry but there was one entry in particular that I'd like to post because it makes me remember the incredible people that live in the Durika Biological Reserve in Costa Rica. I titled it "Knowledge"

"The people here have a lot of knowledge to share. No matter how many times they must have shared their stories, their eyes still sparkle when they talk. They're not self righteous or condescending; they're just eager to share what they know. It's reassuring to know that they weren't always like this. They grew up in urban areas, went to university, and lived much like I do today. Coming here wasn't easy. It was a journey, a sacrifice, a challenge. I will really try to take even a small peice of this knowledge back home with me. I can't change the world but I can change myself. It's a start"

I met some incredible people, saw some of the most diverse, interesting landscapes I've ever seen, ate some fabulous food and learned a lot - about work, life and myself. I couldn't have asked for a better way to end the summer.

Costa Rican jitters

So I depart on my much anticipated Costa Rican adventure in 5 days and I'm nervous. I've been gearing up for this trip for more than 6 months and for some reason, I feel moderatley stressed about it. It could be a combination of my other irrational stressing these days but I feel strangely worried. I'm trying to ignore it and focus in on my excitment.

On Tuesday, I went and bought a hiking backpack and some hiking boots. I've never done anything like this before but dammit, I'm going to look the part ;) Maybe backpacking will become a new hobby of mine. For the cost of the accessories, it should.

I'm mostly nervous about the fact that I'm going on this trip with a group of total strangers. The first time I meet them will be in the airport a few hours before departure. I'm sure they'll be great but the thought of meeting 15 people i'll be spending the next week and half of my life with intimidates me a bit.

Really, despite all my nervous tension, I know this is going to be the trip of a lifetime. I complain about the cost and all the things I have to buy that I may never use again but in the end, I really don't care. What good is money if you don't spend it? And this is certainly a worthwhile investment.

I'll get my stuff together over the weekend, chill out and see Dave Chappelle on Monday and gear up for this serious adventure on Tuesday. Screw my nervousness. It's going to be great. I know it.

In the afterglow of reflection

It was perfect. I wouldn't have changed a thing. April and Jake's wedding was just... wonderful. April looked stunning. I could barely hold back tears when I looked at her. She was so calm and collected. So happy. It was beautiful.

The ceremony was short and sweet. Alicia and Joel's rendition of "Baby I love your way" was unforgetable. It was a perfect day. Warm and pleasant. Everyone looked fabulous. I barely recognized myself in the pictures I saw yesterday.

Despite being a nervous wreck, moreso even than the bride herself, I pulled it together enough to walk down the aisle smiling ear-to-ear rather than with that look of nervous panic that I envisioned on the drive to the church. I didn't cough. But I cried. I thought I'd be a rock, April's voice of reason but there was so much emotion I couldn't help it. It's funny how things that are so happy bring people to tears. It's strange to smile and cry at the same time.

The reception was also unforgetable. I couldn't have imagined it any other way. The speeches were amusing, heartfelt and honest and I even managed to get through mine without sobbing uncontrollably.

Everyone was so happy.

The food was fantastic and the band was great. It was so nice to see so many different generations of couples out on the dance floor having a great time together. It was a great party.

I'm having trouble concentrating at work today. I keep staring off into the distance of my computer screen with a silly grin on my face remembering the whole weekend.

I couldn't be happier for April and Jake. You two are really some kind of wonderful :)

On the anniversary of the Green Day concert...

Tomorrow marks the one-year anniversary of the Green Day concert that April and Tina and I went to last year. I loved that concert. Definitley the highlight of last summer. But what is more noteworthy about tomorrow is that it is the day that my dear friend April gets married! MARRIED!! I joked at the concert that Green Day was their one-year pre-anniversary to which Jake curtly informed me was not a "real thing." Nevertheless, tomorrow is the big day and I can hardly beleive it. This is a big day for me too. My first friend to get married and my first time as a bridesmaid. I actually feel a little nervous about it.

I have this stupid cold still and I'm worried i'll cough through their ceremony. I'm worried i'll be sniffing and sneezing while they're trying to say their vows and everyone will remember me as that girl that ruined the serenity of the nuptials. I'm worried I won't feel well enough to enjoy myself and that the drugs i'm taking to mask the pain of this wretched sinus cold will make me loopy and dilirious.

I'm worried about my speech. I'm worried its too sappy and too short and that it doesn't do justice to how awesome April and Jake are.

I'm worried about the bruises and random cuts on my legs and if they'll show up in the wedding photos and I'll look like some moronic clutz or abused woman. I'm worried that my tan lines from too many days at the beach are going to look silly with my strapless dress.

I'm worried that I'll cry like an emotional basketcase at this wedding and make a big jerk of myself. I'm worried my gift isn't good enough.

If I'm this worried, I can hardly imagine how April must feel.

But I'll do the best I can despite my overall trivial concerns. I'm really looking forward to this wedding. It's been a big build up and I can't wait to see it all come together.

Congratulations April and Jake! "I always knew there was a hint of forever about you two!"

I did not buy this shirt!