"I could use a dream or a genie or a wish..."

"to go back to a place much simpler than this..."-B.O.B feat Hayley Williams-Airplanes

Usually on my drives home from the gym, my energy is exploding: if weather permits, windows are down, music is on so loud it almost drowns out my even louder singing. But today, after consecutive workout numero 6, my car rang with the sounds of only professional artists, albeit, my windows were still down thanks to 35 degree weather (at 9 am) This time I decided to actually listen to the words of the songs, instead of trying to sing over them.

One, in particular, caught my ear (?<--insert appropriate saying here). From B.O.B feat Eminem and Hayley Williams Airplanes: "And back when I was rappin' for the hell of it, But now a days we rappin' to stay relevant". I thought it was so true. I am not a rap-game-aficionado, but it is still easy to see how the industry has changed. Before, rapping about money and women and cars made you famous and kept you around, now fans are much more educated, now they want something with more substance.

And I thought to myself, now how true is this for so much else in life, so many people, so many situations?

Is ignorance really bliss? Take, for instance, when someone you love is sick or in trouble: would you rather turn a blind eye to avoid having to deal, or scrutinize anybody and everybody for each and every detail in order to be supportive? I remember when I was hit with my first tragedy--when the life of my fun-loving free spirited Uncle Wally was taken from him, and from us. The months of his illness are like a bunch of hazy clouds in my mind--and not because I was too young to have a decent memory of them, but because I felt like I was getting constantly left in the dark, having information withheld from me to protect me, not upset me. I was so angry. My aunt called one day and I pressed her for details. When she glossed over the subject I freaked out. I am not the ignorance-is-bliss type, my curiosity does not allow it. (Although sometimes my mind wishes it would, to keep the fairytale I build in my mind alive and kicking)

I'm not just talking matters of the heart here. This lyric made my thoughts split into a few different strands. I can remember the day, although not clearly or from personal experience, when post-graduate education of any form made you a big deal. When you still had to rip the sides off printer paper. When the internet still required me begging my teenage phone-obsessed siblings to let me share the line so I could chat on MSN. Now, only a short time later, everything has changed. Only PhDs or professional post-grad programs get you a career, and even that is not a gaurentee. Now the internet is a whole other world and if you missed the boat, good luck finding yourself a seat when you finally manage to clambour aboard. Options are endless for anyone for everyone.  Apparently, our generation is just as stubborn as am I when it comes to unveiling the truth, discovering new things, breaking barriers. We have broken more than I think any of us imagined and good for us! But not so good for our futures. When, in the past, there were still windows of opportunity in a lot of fields, now, so many markets are flooded. Jobs that used to require merely experience now ask for degrees and when you show them that, they ask you for a profile that'll impress, enough to make you memorable out of the million other candidates who came before and will definitely come after.

As I see it, you have two options when faced with this challenge. Option one is to keep your innocence, remain ignorant, move on to something else and push your heart's desires to the last page on your agenda. Or you can jump in, take a deep breath, and work slowly. Despite the fact that my refusal to remain uneducated has also given me a slight case of anxiety, all the while leaving me feeling a bit like im constantly drowning, I will not give up my fight for success. It is not every day when I stumble across feelings so passionate. It is even more rare when they last longer than a day, or an afternoon, or an hour. You know that feeling? The one where every compliment or step forward makes you all giddy, every set back only pushes you harder...the one that makes you re-think a routine you normally follow so stubbornly--makes you want to throw it all away and just dive into your dream full-force, no strings attached, nothing holding you back. The one that stays on your mind, even when you want a break, you ask it stop, you try to remove yourself. It is a high I refuse to let fall.

Trust me, if you love it enough, it is worth it. And it is not so cold once you get used to the water...

Looking for a bridge over flooded waters...

Sometimes I feel like I am living in a world where I am constantly standing in flooded waters. Why is it that everything always seems so over done, so many times repeated?

Maybe it is the universe that I'm choosing to immerse myself in right now, but it seems to me like the creative arts job market is becoming more and more popular with each passing day.  There is no such thing as being arts-minded or inclined anymore. Both print and online resources make any skill accesible to anyone willing to put in the research time and work effort. With a promotion of expressing your personality so evident--from blogging, to Facebook profiles, to Twitter and all the way down to personalized desktop backgrounds and cell phone skins--the pressure is on for everyone to stand out, in their own unique creative way. What does this mean? For one thing, a world with a lot less black and white (which, for a colour junkie like me, seems like not such a bad thing). But on the other hand, it also makes jumping into the world of writing seem beyond daunting....making me feel too old while also making me feel too young...like a naiive little girl with too many questions to ask and not enough answers to give.

Learning the ropes of a new field is both exciting, for a curious mind, yet exhausting, for the mind of a self-diagnosed sufferer of ADD. So much information is available at our finger tips...but what do we do with it? What is important enough for us to absorb, and what should we let trickle out our opposite ear? What may be new and exciting and world changing for me, may be old news to the rest of the world. How do I make myself interesting to read while supplying information that is both knowledgable and relevant for both educated and uneducated minds in my particular field of interest?

By the same token, this is not the case for arts careers only. I think about professional fields like law, medicine and teaching especially, where the extra schooling replaces the unpaid internships but still does not gaurentee you a secure job position once you've been handed your diploma. Gone are the days when education put you a step ahead. Here are the days of doubled student loans courtesy of unemployment and brutal interest rates.

So as I begin my journey, I look for inspiration in everything and everyone. Recent advice from several people has always been the same: write, write write and do some reading and write some more. I am particularly reminded of my good friends LC and EC, and my mom, who have given up so much of their time in devotion to the passion for their future. LC, with her countless volunteer hours spent in classrooms, with high school teams, in the basements of churches teaching catecism classes, and so much more I'm sure I'm unaware of. And EC with her absurdly impressive writing resume which I am both envious and so very proud of. And of course, my mom, who miraculously managed to work full time, go back to get her BA, go to teacher's college, and still always manage to have lunches made, dinner ready and clothes ironed for us on a daily basis. What has this landed them, you ask? An acceptance letter from every teacher's college school of choice, a brand new career as editorial assistant at a Rogers magazine, and a career title change from underappreciated office manager to many student's (at many different schools) supply teacher of choice. And so I will try to emulate their success with their same persistance and perservance.  And despite my recent lack of effort on the blogging part, I will write until my fingers bleed and my laptop battery dies.

a picture can say a thousand words and create a thousand thoughts

i have too many dreams, i fear. i spend much too much of my time thinking and get easily discouraged when it comes to doing. i'm learning to find things that keep me motivated and keep my creativity animated. courtesy of m-sac, i have been using vi.usalize.us as my stimulant. i suggest you all spend an hour (or six...like me) on this site whenever you need a good push out of reality into the wrong direction. here are a few of my faves from today:

If I hadn't just been sitting in it, I would say that you'd lost your mind!

There's something about being young that so many of us seem to forget. It seems easy to do so, too, considering for the bulk of our lives we are told that we need to grow up and be serious to save our futures. It's almost ironic, how we are constantly told we need to work harder when we are young in order to prepare ourselves for a lifetime of, let's face it, working even harder. So when do we get to enjoy the ride? I mean, sure we enjoy it in our own way, through our own outlets. In our social lives, with our friends, with our girlfriends and boyfriends. But that's only half of it. That's only a quarter of the way we spend our time. The rest of it is spent either cooped in the library, sitting in a lecture hall, working full time, building houses, building roads, installing lighting...

But who said we weren't supposed to enjoy what we do for a living? With a world so big and vast, yet with all our opportunities so close, why do we think we have so little choice? And most importantly, why can't we enjoy our road to discovery? Making a choice doesn't have to be as hard as we think, and at the same time it doesn't have to come so easy. We don't need to stick with our first choice...or second, or third. We don't even need to stick with any choice at all, ever. If success and happiness can come to you in constant change, than why do you need to settle for monotony? And if making choices isn't easy, then why can't it be fun? We have the opportunity now to dabble here and there, to explore things we may think we aren't suited for, aren't talented enough for or things that may seem impossible to acheive. But what do we know anyways? How well could you possibly know yourself at 16, at 21, or even 30 to be so sure that you can only do so much?  How many times have you surprised yourself by surpassing your goals, acheiving the unexpected...even if it just means finishing that essay you never thought would end (and acing it, to boot), or making your sales goal at work, finally saving enough money to buy a car, laying that last brick.

It's so easy for us to take our weekend so lightly. To have one too many drinks, to act just a little immature, maybe dance on surfaces not meant for heels, to crankcall strangers (or not) already sleeping, to kiss one too many boys you may not have if your vision was a bit less foggy, to use our outdoor voices indoors, to waste our money on unnecessary clothes, shoes, purses, sunglasses, alcohol...and to back it all up with the "I'm young, what does it matter?" excuse. Maybe the way we think on our offtime isn't so wrong. Maybe we shouldn't try so hard to not act our shoe size. Maybe we can really be ourselves when we don't take ourselves too seriously. Maybe we would make wiser choices, take the more daring path. Maybe we would find a more real version of ourselves, and maybe we would find a path that let's us express that everyday...not just on Saturday nights. Maybe we could end up doing something that makes us happy AND pay the bills...now wouldn't that be naughty?

Test, test, 1,2 3

There's definitely been alot to say about my life lately. I'm going through a transition period that has left me feeling, fortunately or unfortunately, like everyday holds another lesson to learn from, and another challenge to overcome.

As I write my blog on the memo pad of my phone traveling from the Bay St station to Union, I realize I'm very much living my life in transit right now. It is where I conduct most of my business-eat meals, catch up on reading, sleeping, update myself on the lives of my friends, make my plans (really, what plans?), take my unpaid breaks...It`s tiring, but it's not bad. After four years of the commute I am clearly used to it. At least now I'm traveling to places I want to go.

I can't say the transition hasn't been difficult. I'm in the middle of a learning curve where nothing feels familiar and everything requires an effort. Two new completely different jobs, two completely different lists of things I have to master. I know I have been pining for this change for quite some time...but I was not made aware of the toll it would take on me physically, emotionally and mentally. Criticisms, small and big, have made me overly emotional---cut to me, hiding away in the washroom for a quick cry in the middle of a rush, or for a lenghty sob in a late night cab ride home as I listen to my drivers long distance call to Pakistan instead of the radio, while eating dry cereal (are you surprised), half of which misses my mouth and finds a new home all over my jacket, scarf and nylons.

If there's one thing I have learned from these past particularly trying days is that attitude can go a further distance than I have ever imagined. How do you handle the curve balls that come your way? When your not as good at something as you hope to be? When you make a mistake you know you could have avoided? When, instead of getting a shoulder to cry, your ignored with a cold shoulder? What's your breaking point.

I met someone new this past week. Or should I say I had a visit from the figure of the past. The playground bully. Yes, for those who may not know, or those who may not wish to believe, he does exist outside the brick walls of our elementary past. He has infiltrated the boundaries of the real world and, no, he has no mercy. He is no one in particular. He is not only one. He is everywhere--lurking behind wine bottles and server trays, office desks and water coolers. Just waiting to prey on any unsuspecting vulnerable victim--someone I have very much made myself out to be lately...someone you should never allow yourself to become.
This week, the playground bully put me to test. His challenges left me feeling weak and defeated on nights after long days of waking up too early, traveling from here to there, typing in the wrong client number, ringing in the wrong drinks and missing a newly sat table. This week, after coming face to face with the playground bully of my version of the real world, I was faced with two choices. Do I let it weaken me? Do I take the criticisms that I know are not true and rework them into the once confident definition I had of myself not too long ago? Or do I stand up to my bully, deflate his ego by proving him wrong and chuckle to myself as I watch him pretend to not see it, not admit it, as most bullies often do? I think we can safely say we've all met our match. If you haven't yet, count yourself lucky, but remember this for the time when you do: the bully is only as alive as you allow him to be. Don't let him test your opinion of yourself. It has been formed by someone who knows you best,  after a lifetime of jumping over hurdles without knocking down the bar, or knocking down the bar and picking yourself up again to finish the race. He is another hurdle. His criticisms are not what defines you, but what defines him. He creates them from anything, anywhere, at any opportunity, to feed his soul and corrupt yours.

A conversation had at work yesterday got me thinking. Why do our minds only cling to the memories of criticisms from others? So quickly casting aside the compliments, filing them to a part of our mind it takes too much effort for us to retrieve them from on a rainy day? Why do we let the playground bully stay alive in our thoughts, threatening our self esteem, and forget about our desk partners who complimented our hairbands and brought us chocolates at all the appropriate holidays?


Yes, I have learned that well in a short period time. Life in the real world isn't all I dreamt it would be. There are days when I skip to the subway, and others when I watch the time go backwards on the clock. There are nights when I`m close to giving up, followed by mornings of post-workout rejuvanation, followed by days of success. There are days when you are hurt by people who you thought were there to help, and surprised to be helped by those who you thought wanted to see you hurt.There are times when it breaks your heart to learn that a smile and a sweet demeanor won`t get you what you want, when nice guys will not finish first, when not everyone you meet will like you or think you`re smart.  But it`s time to face it. I am here now, world. I am here at least in my new world. I either have to face the challenge, or risk the loss. The true test is letting your mind chose which one is more worth it.

Tip toeing through the minefield

Why is it that when things are going good in our lives we automatically retort to saying that "it's too good to be true"? Lately, I've found that line running through my head more often than I am comfortable with. When times are rough, its always a grass-is-greener-on-the-other-side scenario. Isn't the whole point of that phrase to get us to appreciate what we have, no matter if it doesn't exactly meet up with our expectations? But when we finally get everything we ask for, instead of being grateful, we simply begin to anticipate our own failure. After landing a sweet job at a hot restaurant right in the heart of the city, an amazing internship with a prominent company doing exactly what I want to be doing in my future, celebrating an anniversary of a relationship that makes me happier daily, being in a good place with friends and family, I can't deny that I am not walking on eggshells. When will this all come crumbling down? How can I be so lucky? Is this all just building up to an even harder downfall? To put the stakes even higher, on Tuesday, day 2 of the internship, I was offered a part-time position (yes, paid) by the director of events and catering...at the same moment that he shook my hand after meeting me. I'm trying to stay positive, think like The Secret taught me and attract only good things to myself. But I must admit, it is a challenge when you lived a life with many many downs and not always so many ups. If life is a game, my winning streak is only making it more likely for an impending loss. But I refuse to be a statistic--this time I want to beat the odds. I will appreciate what I am being given without fear. I'm sitting at the highest table, with a full house...I'm raising the stakes, I'm going all in....will I take it all or will I flop?

Excuse me, Mr. Webster, can you please redefine lavish?

Is there something wrong with simply loving the simple life? I don't wish for extravagance. I don't enjoy dressing up (or barely dressing) on Saturday nights just to go somewhere that you can't hear yourself think, to waste calories on drinks you don't want to drink, just to waste your money on memories you won't remember. Not saying I judge those who take pleasure in this at all, I was once the downtown Toronto nightclub scene mascot. I have just learned to like early nights and even earlier mornings followed by productive days that lead into relaxingly rewarding nights. I prefer Sunday afternoons to Saturday evenings. I enjoy tasty dinners accompanied by exotically flavoured martinis and full-bodied wines at a dining hot-spot on the town. Even more I love home cooked dinners in, maybe not as a tasty, with a bottle of randomly chosen LCBO wine, sometimes not as prized. I find pleasure in comfort--in coming home from a long days work to curl up with a good movie, your favorite show. I find it in tacky decorating for the holidays and cooking festive treats, in books about women who walk stylishly and purposefully to their Manhattan offices, or books about history and legend. I daydream about a house with a backyard and a dog and a barbecue. My favorite channels feature shows that reinvent the living room and cook you dinner. I like to turn off my phone ringer sometimes, so I can live alone in silence, even if I do this as I sit in a noisy cafeteria at lunch time. I question whether my interests are strange. Or why they don't include the normal activities of someone my age. Did I miss out in Europe when my days were filled with sun and sand and my nights simply with gelatos, wine and my dreams? Should I put my name on guest lists to force entry to these standard weekend venues? Should I shop for clothes that I can only possibly wear out to ensure social activity? Or should I continue my life down under the radar, guilt free, where I am admittedly most content, yet where I risk most judgement for being an awkward social hermit?