Epiphany of late

I will not see Atonement. Not until I have read the book and formed my own judgment on it. Why? Not because Hollywood has this way of massacring lovely stories. Not because it wouldn't be nice to see James McAvoy with his lovely blue eyes on a large screen for a few hours. Why? Because Kiera Knightley has a way of turning everything she acts in to pooh!!!! That's right - POOH.

I don't dislike her per se. There's nothign tangible that I can connect to my dislike - except the way all stories she acts in are somehow butchered beyond recognition. But besides that, nothing really.

As an ode to my dislike of Kiera Knightley's ability to somehow have used lovely classical fiction as a means of establishing herself as a wannabe period actor, I will provide to you an e-mail on my sentiments after breaking down and finally watching Pride and Prejudice. Enjoy (or not).

(in an e-mail addressed to my best friend)

I have spent some time watching the Pride and Prejudice of 2005. As you so traitorously watched it with another companion, I feel I should, nay, MUST, share with you my thoughts....

First, did they even read the book? I think not. I think that when the time came to write this screenplay, they consulted the people of the falsely named King Arthur. Because if the movie could be another further away from the actual book, well, I would've probably had to shoot myself after watching it. They must have just coincidentally chosen the name Pride and Prejudice...yes, that's it.

BUT if in fact they did seek to make this movie based on the book, let me share a few "What the hell...!?!?!?!?!?!" moments:

WTH!?!?!?!?! #1: You know at the ball. The very first one. The one where Lizzie gets so artfully snubbed by Darcy. According to the niceties of the time, I think that would most adequately be the equivalent of, oh, a rave!!! Seriously, all the jumping and clapping they may as well have been on drugs.

WTH!?!?!?!?! #2: Bingley. What was that about??? Bingley's character was supposed to be a gentleman. Gentle-man. Let me bring to mind some other gentlemen, so that we may appropriately have examples with which to base our judge of this character. Atticus Finch. Lon from the Notebook. Ashleigh from Gone with the Wind. Tim Cruise circa Penelope Cruise. Bingley was no gentleman. What Bingley was - was like a flighty teenage girl. Hair dyed an unnatural colour, with too much hair product. Hell, his body even resembled a teenage girl's! And the - THEN - when he practices how to propose to Jane. Oh my god, reminiscent of when junior high school girls walk up to their crushes outside the gym after school and ask them to the dance. I swear, the movie would've just been better without him. And that's saying a lot. Like the movie could get better. Rubbish that it was.

WTH!?!?!?!?! #3: Pemberly - It flipping looked like a museum. First, we went to the painting room. Then we went to the naked sculpture room. The bust of Darcy? Talk about asexual, you could barely tell if it was male or female. And Lizzie peeks into Georgiana's room. Did they even research what houses we like back then? And what is she suddenly - a voyuer? At that moment I was worried the movie took a turn for the 18A rated.

WTH!?!?!?!?! #4: Mr Bennet - his teeth were too white for his age. And he looked like what I imagine Christopher Columbus to look ike first thign in the morning during his old age. At the end of the movie where he says, I could not part with you Lizzie blah blah blah, why keep that? When you take out all the other stuff, why keep that? The entire attachment between them was nonexistent. He was like an absent father. He should've been paying alimony.

WTH!?!?!?!?! #5: You knew this was coming - Elizabeth. Elizabeth was supposed to capture all of the polished refinement of the era and yet, yet still break the mould with her wit, her ability to laugh off the frivolties of daily life, to satirically comment on those around her, to embody grace and poise, but keep a childish innocence and openness. She did not shirk the rules or break the rules, but she played within the rules better than anyone else. Oh right, that was only in the book. No no, in the movie, Elizabeth was pretty much bipolar. A subdued bipolar. She either cried or laughed. But always in quick succession. And never very much. The girl spent all 3 hours in the verge of a nervous breakdown! I'm not saying this out of my bias for Keira, the girl could kill me with any number of swords. But please...I mean, there's a reason why this character is admired by women all over, throughout time. that she's cool cause she's living through all the crap women go through but she comes out unscathed. This lizzie practically cried all the time and before anything even happened to her. her and Bingley. They could be BFF. For each others birthday they should buy each other pink diaries with locks!

WTH!?!?!?!?! #6: I'm saddned to say, Darcy. So much went wrong here. Darcy should have commanded the scenes. Darcy with his pride, his looks, his intellignce. You hated him but at the same time he never really gave you reason to hate him. He was not handsome. He was not charming. He was not proud. He was not mysterious. He was not logical beyond reason. He didn't have that strange inability to be witty. He didn't fight against anything. He meekly accepted the nothing he was given in the movie. He did not deliver his lines with any sort of conviction. I swear he was mumbling. He was not in love with lizzie. He looked more in love with his sister!!! he looked like he was forced to be in the movie against his will! I can't love him, not like this. We can't be happy together, we won't be happy! !

Don't even get me started on King Arthur.

My Rant: Imposing cell phone etiquette

I don't understand this need for constant communication with other people. Over the past couple of days, the same people have repeatedly complained about my cell phone "habits" (I guess you would call them). Though I don't think they're my habits, so much as they are my personality.

Who made it a law that if you ever receive any form of communication (call, text, voicemail) on your cell phone, you are morally obligated to return it immediately, punishable with the threat of hours of nonsensical complaining?

Here's the situation: Sometimes, I'm in meetings. During the days, my cell is on silent and I forget to put it on vibrate. Other times, I am on the phone when you send me a text. I sleep as well. Why do you feel that because I own a cell phone that none of these things are valid reasons for me NOT answering you!?!?!?!!?

My personality is such that I don't mind not seeing my friends or speaking to friends on a daily basis. Every couple of days, weeks, in some cases months is enough. I will check and in when i check in, we catch up on each other's lives, enjoy a chat, share some funny stories. I do not need to know how many times they brushed their hair, what their garbage can smells like or the last time they did their laundry. But hey - that's just me.

What's wrong with talking to people when you need to? I am the first to admit that I'm not the role model to have when it comes to keeping in touch with people, but I make my efforts and I'm honest about it. BUT if I know I am going to see you everyday, for a good chunk of time, I don't need to also be in constant communication with you over text messages.

Now I'm getting complaints from people (well one person started it, complained to others, now they're complaining to me about it) that I don't reply ever. It's like if I don't have the same habits of being glued to my phone as they do, then I'm rude.

I feel like if it's really necessary to speak to me, uregntly, about something, give me a call at work. Otherwise, it can wait. I try to keep updated on the calls, the voicemails and the texts I receive, but if you're flooding my inbox with useless stuff when I'm at work, out with other people, running errands or carrying grocery bags, then have the courtesy to wait for a response when it's convenient.

Having a cell phone does not mean that you must be at the beck and call of the people who have your contact information. It means that it is easier to get in contact with a person. The rules that apply for a landline shoudl apply for a cell phone - and if you tell me that you have caller ID and have never avoided a call then you must be Martha Stewart like and it's kinda creepy.

Even after all this, it hasn't changed anything. That person will continue telling people that I selfishly use other people, people will still complain to me, I will have to choose whether to give in to them or tell them off, but for now, I just say screw it.

Best lines from the last 24 hours...

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If clean had a taste, it would be Evian!

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But real life is what's we're trying to escape in our Kelly Clarkson songs.

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Asking nicely doesn't get you more fries at the drive-thru.

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Aftermath of the bomb-drop: Coffee Crunch

A few weeks ago my branch announced a major re-organization of the structure. They were bringing new people in, people had to compete for jobs they were already in, and the way files were distributed was going to change - along with the people handling them. Of course, I was affected in this re-org. Most of my team stayed together, but I was moved as far away from them as possible (structurally). Physically I was still in my office. The re-org wasn't to take place til November, but I, of course, was moved right away. I switched files, teams, managers and got over it.

Then today, another bomb was dropped. Big one that shifts the way that business is done at my branch. After that news was shared, the little whisperings and speculative remarks began. A co-worker and myself decided to take a walk to find Del Monte popsicles and discuss the happenings. That's when I came across the "Coffee Crunch".

Up until today, I had never eaten any Haagen Dazs ice cream. I was innocent of all the deliciousness it was advertised to offer. So, I bought my cavity filled mouth a $4 Haagen Dazs Coffee Crunch ice cream bar.

It was...interesting to say the least. I always thought it was an old person ice cream brand. I don't know, maybe it's cause it always seemed to cater to a more sophisticated pallete. Or maybe because the packaging pattern resembles furniture likely to be found in Ms. Havisham's house. Either way, it seems my initial conjecture was correct.

The ice cream itself was a nice consistency. Thick, yet soft. The outer coating was a little too sweet for me, made only sweeter by the chunks of biscotti (the "crunch" part). The ice cream was not too sweet, a very real coffee flavouring - which let's be honest, it's the most important part of this whole endeavour.

Halfway through I started to get a sickening stomachache. You know the kind that you get when you think you've eaten something not quite halal? It's like your body's rejecting the food, because it can sense that it's not supposed to be in you. I grabbed the box and read off the ingredients. The ingredients were enough to make me ickier! Liquid egg yolk??? Milk chocolate and vegetable oil coating??? That did not make it sound any more appetizing!!! I continued my search for the unhalal ingredient listing. It must be there somewhere! This has to be one of those rare ice creams brands that are unhalal and uncool.

Alas, there was nothing not halal about it. My stomachache was due to something else - I'd forgotten how eating ice cream makes you feel sick when you're lactose intolerant.

I'm gonna need to disclaimer this one...

It's true folks. After that last post which was all globally aware and what not, this may prove to be a let down. I apologize in advance.

People, I am pissed! That's right. I got back from my business trip up in Northern Ontario, which I will blog about once the anger has died down a little. After my flight, which was not as uncomfortable as the flight there (where I got elbowed in the head repeatedly while sitting between two very very large men - but again, that is a post for another time), I got into a limo. This is standard, since I'm on the company bill and the limo and taxis from Pearson are fared (meaning they have a flat rate depending on what part of Toronto you're going to) so there's not much difference between the prices.

If anyone's ever taken an airport limo or taxi from Pearson, you know it's usually an "uncle" driving you home. Usually I don't mind. They sorta see a girl of their own kind and they want to make sure you don't end up with one of those other drivers, the handful that come from Eastern Europe.

Let's return to today's trip. I get into the limo. I give the driver the nearest major intersection to my aparment, which is standard practice. He proceeds to ask me if it's north or south or such and such street. I say north. he then asks if it's east or west of this other street. I say West. Jolly good and we're on our way.

I notice as we take the exit off the highway that he's in the wrong lane. I mention it to him that he should probably take a right and get no response, so I keep my peave and put my trust in Uncle. (I once guided a driver I had before and offended a limo driver cause I guess he thought I thought he was incompotent, but that wasn't the case. I was just really tired and wanted to get home after my flight had been delayed).

I sit back and watch all the big houses go by, he comes up to the intersection nearset my house, we turn onto my street and since he hasn't yet asked the building number I gave it to him. He then says, It's halfway. I'm confused and ask, Halfway to what? Apparently, I'm halfway between one major intersection and another major intersection and I should've told him the other major intersection, because then he would've come from the other direction and taken this street and that street and then turned. My response? Oh, okay then.

But nooooo, he doesn't let it rest there. Uncle proceeds to tell me another TWO TIMES how I should've given him directions. To both these I respond with silence.

It's only when he says, Next time tell me the number first that I finally get pissed.

Excuse me? What were you doing that was so important when I came along and asked you to do your job? Oh, oh, what was that? Leaning against your car staring off into the distance? Yeah? Then shut up! Do not tell me what I need to do the "next time" cause that's assuming I will ever get a ride in your limo again! I understand that you're a little anal and want to know exactly where you're going right away, but then instaed of asking me what general direction out of north, south, east and west my building is located, ask me the stupid number when I first sit down! And then, THEN, why do you insist on beating a dead horse? You said it once, and then again, and then again, and then that one more time you thought when you told me how I should have given you directions to my building that it would suddenly change things somehow? Four times Was that really necessary? Let's get something straight...I am not your wife, I am not your daugther, I am not any acquaintance of your's - you cannot lecture me. I have hired you to do a job for a fee. Just do it. I don't need to be told how I should have hired you to do that job. I did my part, now you need to do your's. Without talking.

Anyway, when I finally did respond I think he knew he'd lost his tip. Too bad for him, I'm a very good tipper. Especially when I'm on the company bill.

My goal: To start with just one

I had a lovely afternoon. Lovely why? Well, because this afternoon I spent watching a two hour film of the most depressing human tragedy in recent years. And it reminded me what it means to care.

This afternoon, one of my best friends, my younger sister, her friend from our hometown and I caught
Shake Hands with the Devil at TIFF. The movie is, as most movies about the topic of the Rwandan genocide are, absolutely amazing. Amzing in the sense that the massacre of innocent men, women and children is pitted against the backdrop of apathetic Western nations, while still capturing the very real, very rich and very beautiful Rwandan country and cultures.

This movie, however, was something more for me. It's been a long long while since I've looked up Lieutenant General Roméo Dallaire as a hero of mine. To be able to see the chilling events from his perspective (albeit in two hours) is something that my imagination couldn't think up, even while reading the book on which the movie is based. I've attended, read and heard talks by Major Brent Beardsley and Stephen Lewis, but never had that same opportunity with Dallaire's work (save for a few UN addresses posted online).

So fast forward to today...when sitting 3 rows ahead of me, was Romeo Dallaire himself. I didn't know what to do with myself. This was the man who led a few hundred troops to save the lives of over 30,000 people. 30,000 people who were forgotten by the international community. 30,000 who weren't added to the 1 million who lay slaughtered after 100 days of genocide. I expected Roy Dupuis, Deborah Kara Unger and James Gallanders to be there. Obviously, they starred in the movie (and were also in the same row as him). But Romeo Dallaire himself, sitting there - the though hadn't crossed my mind!

Before the film began, the director spoke about the conditions Dallaire put on making the movie about his role in Rwanda. He said "Tell the truth, make the story about Rwanda and the people, and don't make a hero out of me". You could tell during the numerous standing ovations given to both the film, and to him when he was invited to address the crowd of 1,500, that he still wasn't comfortable with being thrust into the spotlight of "hero" to thousands. If his apparent discomfort wasn't enough, his autobiography details his years in therapy as well as his attempts at suicide in order to forget what he saw in Rwanda. He saved the lives of 30,000 people but was unable to convince the international community that with the added enforcement of a few thousand troops the entire genocide could have been prevented. And he sees that as not only the world failing Rwanda, but his failure as well.

Managing what he did. Surviving what he did. And having the courage to continue to speak about it - I don't see that as failure. But then again, I've never saved anybody's life, let alone an entire nation's.

Contrive-rsy

I seem to have taken a hiatus from blogging. Well, perhaps not a hiatus per se as I was never a regular blogger to begin with, but I have taken an unscheduled break. A lot of things happened, many of which were blog-worthy. And I swear, every morning on the TTC ride to work I come up with some great ideas. But when I sit down at my desk, all the creativity gets sucked right out of me.

*Shocking realization alert*
The government does suck your personality out of you. Wow...I had no idea until I just wrote that sentence above that working here has done that to me.

Anyway, whenever I started a post up until now, it always felt contrived. So I thought to myself, why not pay tribute to all things contrived in this contrived post? Here goes...

• The movie, Becoming Jane. All of it. Every single minute
• My branch's management and their approach to "the staff"
• Stephen Harper's attitude to everything that matters
• My attitude towards the state of my sister's hair
• Small talk with Aunties who want me to marry their sons
• My interest in their sons
• Canada's attempt at showing the world that they really do care about soccer
• The entire Heidi-Spencer story line from The Hills
• People who buy organic bananas
• The idea of young mall walkers

Any to add?

Loaft

My life is on cruise control.

I don't remember pressing that button though.

You know the feeling...the one where there's nothing really exciting going on. You meet old friends and realize nothing's really changed since the last time you met. You wanna go out and do something fun, but realize you can say to pretty much everything, "Done that".

I thought I was doing okay. I thought, My life's not that empty. I probably manage to do about as much stuff in one week as you hear Lindsay Lohan doing in one night. And given the alleged drug problem, I think that's the pace any other normal person would operate on.

But then it happened.

The moment that it all clicked that...

My

Life

Is

Boring

Last week, I was eating my lunch and I took a sip of my pop, then FROZE. I couldn't understand why it tasted so funny. Coke wasn't supposed to taste like that at all!!!!! Until I looked at the can and realized, I'd bought root beer that day to "switch it up".

Just one of those days...

You know those days when it feels like everything sucks? This day was one of them. I just never seemed to get into the groove of working. I couldn't appreciate the fact that I had absolutely nothing to do. I wanted coffee but never went to get it. I wanted frozen yogourt but never went to get it. And in general, I ignored everyone who walked by my door.

Then I did this little exercise. I listed all the good things about my day and all the bad. My list looks something like this:

Good

1. I will be eating Chinese food for lunch. With a Coke. Mmmmm.

2. I got to work so early that the early people asked me if they were late

3. I found $40 in the subway

4. My writer's block is gone (I managed to write that thing I had to write in 20 minutes and it seems pretty good!)

5. I ate a yummy ice cream cone

6. I have one of the few sprinkler systems for my floor in my office

Bad

1. I found a big black tar spot on my NEW, SUPER CUTE American Ealge shoes. Did I mention they were NEW AND SUPER CUTE???

This is a before my sadness picture

2. The unfriendly women I work with that I had to ride the elevator with twice today

3. I hate my new office (though it is bigger with more stuff)

4. I keep thinking about how not nice it must feel to lose $40 in the subway

So as you can see, my day has had more good than bad. But it's still one of those blah days. I think I may just be overly tired. I desperately want my manager to leave early so I can leave early, but he came in late so I think he'll be leaving late.

This is a post out of pure boredom. Maybe I'll post some pictures. Yes. That'll be exciting. Oh god, I'm boeing myself with this post and I'm writing it!

Excuse me, I have to go stab myself with paperclip now to distract myself.

Frustration

Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh, writer's block sucks!

Especially if you're in a job where you need to write.

But it's worse if you know exactly what you need to write, the thoughts are formulated, the arguments are laid out, and verbal presetation prepared. Whyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy???

It needs to be written. Soon. It needs to be approved. Soon. It needs to be implemented in the field. NOW. Well, really six months ago, but I just got it yesterday, so - NOW.

All this pressure cause of stupids words that I need to string together to make some policy change. But I know what it should be and the change depends on my delivery. But my delivery sucks cause I can't find the right combination of words, the right order and the right context!

I need one of those squishy stress balls for my office. I can't keep making this face at my computer screen. People are gonna think I'm strange.

Some pictures...

From my time in Thunder Bay.
(the North Bay trip was a bust)

This was the airport (no joke)

Also the airport.

We saw this taking off...over and over again. I think they were doing test runs.

The view flying over the city.

You've got to be kidding me...

I'm in North Bay. I'm staying at a hotel with apparently the most beautiful view of the bay. I'm walking distance from the waterfront. I'm attending a forum at a location with some of the nicest walking trails and pockets of water in the province.

It rains. From the minute we get off our airplane to the minute we walk into the building of the forum. No views, no waterfront, no walks, nothing.

But the upside was, we (myself and the other two ladies attending the forum with me) heard that the weather should clear up.

And then it SNOWED!

No joke. Not like little fluffy puffs of snow. This was thick, wet, stick to windows kinda snow! Outta no where! And the geniuses we were, we all wore sandals.

This morning it cleared up a bit, so the three of us being the naice Torontonians that we were, again hoped we would get to see some of natural beauty of the city.

Then we saw the funnel clouds. A whole row of them. Across the sky.

Seeing nature today before our flight this afternoon? Not bloody likely.

Umm, could you provide a definition please?

*I began this post with an actual point, however the context section became a post of it’s own. This will be Part 1. Part 2 will follow after some feedback perhaps.*

Remember in kindergarten when everyone was your friend?

And then in elementary school when your group of friends was determined by the people who wanted to play the same thing with you at recess?

High school came along and then friends became the people who were like you – preps, jocks, band geeks, skater kids (at least so it was in my All-American high school transplanted into suburban Ontario, resulting in a cross between Saved by the Bell and Dawson’s Creek – cool principal and teacher dating student scandal and all)

And that brings us to…well, now. Adulthood, I guess you could call it. The beginning of “real life”. Real jobs, real responsibility, real freedom…all those realities. I’m finding that one of those realities you’ve got to deal with is who is your friend and who isn’t.

For the first time in my life, it’s becoming increasingly difficult to define who (and what) I’d consider a friend. I’ve been lucky I guess, since for the most part of my life the hardest thing I had to differentiate was who was a close friend and who was “just” a friend.

Enter university. Or rather, I entered university. For the first time, I was exposed to a social scene where people not gossiping meant people were gossiping, where even if you weren’t friends with someone you had to pretend to be to save face, where for the sake of social standing you had to remain friends with someone even if they’d stabbed you in the back. Now I don’t mean to say that I never dealt with this in high school. I did. There were the confrontations in the hallways, cliques being split down the middle because of a break up, vicious rumours spread that could only be believed in high school – plus all the stuff other people were doing. =P But it was never like this.

Part of the trouble stems from the fact that I can’t understand how adults (or people on the brink of adulthood) are still involved in such stupid drama. I mean, sure we all did it in high school, but that was high school. It was a rite of passage. You do it there so you get it out of your system and move on after graduation. It’s like the chicken pox – you get it once and then never again.

I guess the other part is that the close friends I have made have sort of been this revolving door phenomenon. They come in and then something happens – a fight, some third party drama, an event – and out they go. Mix that in with the drama mentioned earlier and you’re trying to survive a social scene littered with carnage. Broken promises, broken bonds, and broken friendships. But on the surface – all is well.

Like any good battlefield, you need to know who your allies are. How can you know? How do you determine who’s in and who’s not? Who to trust and who not to? Who’s a friend and who’s a close friend? I think I’ve figured out an easy, albeit kinda stupid way to figure this out, but what do you all have to say?

How much a good shopping trip is really worth...

So last week at work, I had a really bad day. Like it was one of those days when not only do you not have any real work, but the work you did do comes back all wrong and you're feeling bullied by your co-workers and the more you hide in your office, the more stuff outside your office goes wrong.

As a result, I decided to reward myself with a shopping trip. So off I go to this mall that I heard has amazing stores at outlet prices. I thought, This will be a nice little pick me up. I can get myself a new wardrobe for $5. =P Because the outlets were a bit of a hike, I decided to hop on the subway and head on over. As I got out of my stop, to my horror, I learned, buses stopped running. Of course, why expect anything different if you're taking the TTC? *rolls eyes* Now I was determined to give myself this pick me up. No stupid bus cancellation was going to stop me from my shopping trip!

Being the resourceful girl I am, I flag down a school bus and persuade the driver to give me a ride. Okay, no, more like it was them that saw me walking on the side of the road and offered to give me a ride since they were obviously heading in my direction. I learned as I accepted this offer and took my seat that it was a church group, also heading to the same mall I was going. I dunno...maybe it was a trip to boost group morale? I was on this trip to boost my morale, wasn't it?

To my shock, as I saw down, who was sitting across from me??? A co-worker of mine! He and my manager were quite good friends from what I gathered at work. He was a very nice young gentleman. Reminded me of boys from home. (hometown, not the other "back home") But the strange this was, he was acting like he didn't know me. For some reason, the entire group was calling him by a different name. And a name I had never heard him being called before (this co-worker of mine is one with name nicknames).

I guess the church group had one more stop to make on it's way before we reached the mall. They stopped over and picked up some girl. Of course this girl had to choose to sit beside. And of course she had to want to take up the entire seat. And of course she had to start elbowing. And I had to elbow back. And then she started screaming and crying. And NO, she wasn't 5. This was a 20 year old girl here, ladies and gentlemen. Well the advantage of being a crybaby in this church group versus being the hitchhiker they picked up on the side of the road? The church group believes the crybaby. I was removed to the back of the bus, and get this - they put my co-worker on guard duty! Like I posed a greater risk than Elbow McElbow-Face!

Whatever! That's all I was thinking by this point. I'm gonna get to the mall and key the bus! Thankfully, though my co-worker acted like he didn't know me, he was still a lenient guard because he did recognize me. When we finally reached our destination, of course I couldn't go shopping yet? Why you may ask???....

...because the Business Manager from my old job was there! Like right there in the middle of the main entrance to the mall, sitting herself down beside the stupid water fountain. Now given my current state of mind, this meeting was of course where I had to give her a piece of my mind. Out came everything - how I was mislead into accepting the position, how she distanced herself from all the real issues in the work place, how she let the manager run that place into the ground when she should have intervened - stuff I didn't even know came out of me.

At this point I walked off indignantly...walked away from the stupid day at work and the stupid church group and the stupid elbowing girl on the bus and the stupid Business Manager.

Oh, and did I mention this was all a dream?

Hot sauce makes you think funny things...

I was sitting during my lunch hour, enjoying a yummy bowl of teriyaki veggies and rice when it hit me. Six months ago, never would I have imagined that I would be sitting in my own corner office, overlooking Bay St, eating teriyaki. What had happened? What brought me to this place?

At this moment, a co-worker popped her head into my office.

"Your lunch smells good! Ohmygod! AreyouOKAY?"

"Oh yeah, uhhh, this hot sauce is a little strong...but so good!" *I wipe my runny nose and blink away the tears*

"Uhhh, okay. I'll see you at the meeting."

Meeting? Oh yeah...they let me go to those here! Six months ago, the idea to a meeting would have been unheard of! Being the one with the least seniority meant that your role was to let others make you remember that you were the newbie. Responsibility meant throwing more at you than you could handle, until you were forced to ask for help, which of course was a sign of weakness. Any mistakes were tallied at the end of the day and reviewed. Not with you of course. But while you were in the room, working independently, and not supposed to be reviewed. If you did become overwhelmed and ask for help, if someone else made an error doing your work, they were not reprimanded. But if you made the mistake...well the next time you were ever sick, you could definitely count on being written up for it. Sick days of course were not given.

But the idea of also having money in my bank account. Like actual savings. I think over the 6 months I worked at my previous job, I managed to save $1000. I thought that was a big deal, since one paycheck alone would be used up in rent and transportation costs. But the crazy thing is, the entire time I was there, i grateful I was there. I never expected anything better. I never really imagined anything better. I believed that once I paid my dues, once I gained more experience, once I proved myself...but that never happened.

What did happen was this job. Which, Alhamdulillah, is amazing. I'm learning new things, meeting new people, given more responsibility than I think I can handle, actually informing decisions on things that will affect the province! I was told that I'd be travelling on business in the next coming weeks. ME! Travelling! Representing the Ministry! And they actually want to pay for it! Mindblowing. So much so that it's even hard to write about it. I've been given an opportunity, but the odd thing is, it seems to have been handed to me. I don't remember ever wanting this or preparing for it or contemplating it. But it's here now. I'm trying to make the most of it, because life is moving at such a pace that I can't anticipate what's around the corner for me. Strange isn't it? We spend so much time living that we don't take time to reflect, but it's not until we reflect that we come to understand how grateful we should be for what we have.

You know what they say about people who assume...

(Okay Roo, I know I said that it would be done in list form, but that will have to wait. Perhaps this will prove to be an interesting topic)

Today at lunch, I was joined by my sister (who needed money and was conveniently there to be fed as well) and a co-worker. This co-worker of mine was venting about a min-conflict she had just had with another woman in our office. The my lunchmate had volunteered to assist in some fundraising activity being done by the larger organization I am a part of, which involved going from office to office selling 50-50 tickets. The point of the fundraiser was to help clean up a much needed area of Toronto and build a playgruond for schoolchildren. Well, she sold a ticket to this woman and then let it slip that the school was Catholic. I don't know really the details that followed, but the ticket buyer was upset that she wasn't informed prior to purchasing her ticket that it was a Catholic school. Turns out that this is a very hot topic with her, and as such, she would rather not support the project. The ticket seller didn't understand why it was such a big deal...."Uhh children who need a playground? $2? Good cause?"

Anyway, the conflict was their's to deal with. However, while I was hearing this vent I heard and oft-mentioned criticism of this anti-Catholic playground co-worker. She has somehow negotiated to work only 4 days a week.

(did you all just feel the world stop turning the moment you read that?)

I don't get it...so she works 4 days a week? When I initially heard it, it came from a co-worker who doesn't seem to know whether she's happy where she works or not. I didn't put much stock into what she said. The biggest complaint I heard was, She has kids...so what? Why does that make her special? I should get that treatment too. That was of course from the people who also had kids. From the people wh didn't have kids, it was, She has kids? So what? I don't have kids, how come I can't get that treatment?

All this while I'm thinking, what if you're completely wrong?!?!?! What if it has nothing at al to do with the fact that she has children? Or what if it's a secondary reason? What if her partner is ill and she needs to be there to take them to appointments? What if SHE'S ill? It's absolutely her perogative not to tell anyone (especially since the environment I'm working in seems to enjoy passing details of individuals on at such a rapid pace). And what if it did have to do with her children and her child was sick? Would everyone feel better if the only reason she was given a 4 day work-week was because something was going badly in her life?

But besides that, what if it has nothing to do with her family life? She recently completed work on a huge project that will better the standard of living for hundred of thousands of people in this province. This was a project that took almost 3 years to complete. I'm pretty sure there was some overtime required. Perhaps the others on her time chose to be paid out for their over-time and instead she negotaited herself a 4-hour work week. Her priorities may be different. Why is it such a problem?

That brings me to my question - when did we stop giving others the benefit of the doubt? I mean, when we were younger and for some reason we weren't invited to a birthday party, didn't our parents teach us that maybe there was another reason we didn't get invited? And Oh Yes! You find out that your friend had given your invitation to another friend and both of them shared a lollipop and were out of school with strep throat. (Or something like that).

Anyway, why isn't it a good thing that she gets a 4 day work week? Good for her!



*Mental Note: Befriend her and try to negotiate my own shortened work week.

I have got it...

...it shall be done through lists!

The future - self development and such...

Well now that I’ve provided enough nicknames for myself and related the life story of our family pet, I guess I’ll down to business: the purpose of this blog. In all honesty, I only updated because I didn’t want to virtually snub Roohi. But I have decided to use this blog for self-development. What self-development could that be? (I know right? I’m great just the way I am)

Well in my line of work (makes me sound like a mobster), writing skills are about as up there with schmoozing skills. The sorts of things I write vary from day to day; it could be something as simple as drafting correspondence for the Director to drafting options for new legislation. And when you’re only practicing your writing skills at work, well it doesn’t really give you a chance to try out variations, to test your skills, or really just to grow. Now I don’t ever plan on being a professional writer (unlike my other half who is a very talented writer – you know who you are!), while my profession requires that I be a writer. So I want to develop my skills and that is what this blog shall be about. I do want to be productive.

But here is my concern – I have no direction. I don’t know what this blog is going to be about. Anyone who knows me (well) knows that small talk is not my forte. Chatting about the weather and such bores me if I’m the one who has to initiate it. Tell me it looks cloudy outside and I can talk for hours. But when I have to think up things to say, I’ll pretty much respond by taking a nap instead. Now I know the easy default is to talk about yourself. Again – I’m not exactly Nelson Mandela here. My life isn’t all that interesting or exciting. And I don’t want to resort to talking about conflicts in my life in the hunt to find something entertaining to write about. I don’t mean to pass any judgments about others who may do this, but it’s just not for me.

So now I pose a question to the 3-7 readers I have…what should I write about???

A Name Game of Sorts...

1. YOUR SPY NAME: (middle name and current street name)
*I don't have a middle name, I shall use my sister's*

Maryam St. Paul

2. YOUR MOVIE STAR NAME: (grandfather/grandmother on your mom's side, your favorite candy)

Amatul Twix

3. YOUR RAP NAME (first initial of first name, first three or four letters of your last name)

A-Bha

4. YOUR GAMER TAG: (a favorite color, a favorite animal)

Blue Dolphin

5. YOUR SOAP OPERA NAME: (middle name, city where you were born)

Maryam Hamilton

6. YOUR STAR WARS NAME: (first 3 letters of your last name, last 3 letters of mother's maiden name, first 3 letters of your pet's name)

Bha Han Tys

7. JEDI NAME: (middle name spelled backwards, your mom's maiden name spelled backwards)

Mayram Nahk

8. SUPERHERO NAME: ("The", your favorite color, the automobile your dad drives)

The Blue Camry

9. YOUR ACTION HERO NAME: (first name of the main character in the last film you watched, last food you ate)

Jenna Yogourt

10 things you hate about me...Oops! I mean, 5 things you didn't know about me...

Okay, so Roohi tagged me, and as a result, I now need to post 5 things you never knew about me. (I refer to you as if there was someone here, but no one's been reading my blog) Anyway, enough about my incoherent ramblinsg to no one, here are my 5 things:

1. I taught myself how to tie my shoelaces.
Sad but true. It's not that my parents lacked in their nurturing abilities. I was bored one afternoon. I'm still convinced I don't tie them like other people. I remember when I realized I wasn't supposed to know how to tie my shoelaces. My parents were sitting my brother down to teach him how to tie his shoelaces and he was having trouble learning. So I sat down with him and said, Look, it's easy! And that's when my parents were like, Who taught you that?!?!?!?
***On a related note, I also taught myself how to hold a pencil. As a result, I have seriously messed up my fingers.

2. I read the first 5 Harry Potter books in 4 days.
Another sad but true fact. This blog is making me sound pathetic. I got the Harry Potter books as a birthday gift. I had always fought against the Harry Potter series. I'm not a fan of "new" classics. So when I finally decided to give in and read it, I couldn't put it down. I needed the books like I needed air. I read them during exam week (probably not the smartest idea). And now to make the obsession worse, I was gien the adult hardcover, collector's Type A edition, and those books aren't printed until like 6 months after book comes out!

3. I cheated in every colouring contest I ever won.
I guess that means I didn't really win, but if the prizes were mine, that means I won!!! I think my elementary school was used as a research grounds for Disney. They'd have all these colouring contests at my school and give away Disney prize packs, with advanced screening to movies, posters, colouring books, etc. for new Disney movies. That was like winning the lottery for a 6 year old. So anyway, I would always really want to win and I'd spend hours and hours and days and days agonizing over what colours I'd use and how I'd colour the picture. Finally, my mom would just say if you want to win give it to your brother. So he, being much older (and involved in art classes that were more advanced than crayons and poster paint), would colour in my pictures for me, then I'd submit them. I won every single colouring contest when he coloured them in for me. I never won any one in my own. =(

4. I've always wanted to own my own lake.
I think that's pretty much self-explanatory. I'd only ever told one person this. Then, I told another person and that person laughed at me. Not in a "Hahaha, that's so cool" but in a "Hahaha, awwww, you're so cute!" I can't stand that kind of laugh!!! So I have decided to once again go against my better judgment, and let a small set of cyberspace individuals know my dream. Of course the lake must include a cottage and dock and be secluded enough for me to go swimming. And my cottage must have indoor plumbing so I can clean away the lake smell.

5. If I could go back in time, I'd be a part of the Arthurian legend.
Okay, even I've convinced myself I'm a nerd. I've alwasy loved the story and I think I like the ideas of knights and ladies and fighting for what's right. And in every re-telling of the story, there are always really strong women who fight for what they want. And I mean, this is a time before the whole feminist movement...how cool is that? A close second would be Regency England. That's the time period Pride and Prejudice was set in (I think). I could have a lot of fun in either.