More new things

Life is good. Here's what I've been up to lately.

1. I bought a house. It’s really cute and worth more than I paid. It has gorgeous hardwood, gigantic windows and a nice big kitchen. Right now I’m looking for a roommate, a cheap microwave, a smoke detector and a programmable thermostat, but other than that I’m all set. I’m so excited about the house that I keep having spontaneous solitary dance parties in my living room. I love it.

2. Since I bought my house I’ve gotten boring. I spent most of the last weekend shopping for a toilet, fridge, wardrobe cabinet, curtains and insulation. I actually get excited about going to Rona or Home Depot or Co-op Hardware. To keep from being such a boring homeowner and to make sure I remember to take care of myself, I’ve decided not to do anything on Sundays besides sleep, eat, read, go for coffee, watch movies, paint, go for massages or do other nice, fun, relaxing weekend activities.

3. I got a promotion. I’ve been an intern since February, but a few weeks ago I moved up to a contract position. My salary basically doubled and I get every second Friday off. (Yay!) My contract is only for six months right now, but it could be extended or I could take a different job in the company when it runs out.

4. My department went to an awards show where we won in all three categories we entered. I wrote our applications for each of the awards and even though I wasn’t involved in any of the stuff before doing up the applications, I’m proud that we won. The awards show was spectacular. Everyone was all dressed up and drinking martinis.

5. I voted, but my party lost. When the former premier gave his concession speech, a tear slipped out of the corner of my eye. I am a socialist at heart really liked how the government had been doing.

6. One of my best friends ever came for a visit. We’ve known each other since Grade 3 and have been close ever since we bonded over ruined ice cream sundays. She was just in town for a short time and I insisted she stay with me. As soon as I saw her at the airport, it was just like old times. We stayed awake late into the night giggling, catching up and not being able to get enough of each other. We had a great visit that was far too short.

7. An old friend and I have been emailing each other on Facebook and he’s making me miss the mountain town where I used to live. Magic happened there all the time. I think I’ll need to go for a visit soon.

Grey Cup night

Last night the team I was cheering for won the Grey Cup and thousands of fans headed into the street whooing and high-fiving late into the night.

I had to work in the morning, so I was thinking about just going home to bed, but my friend insisted I celebrate in the streets with her. She said: “You’re only 25 once and we’re not going to win this again in the next 20 years.”

So we went out and had some cold fun, which resulted in a police officer grabbing my arm and pushing me onto the sidewalk when I went to cross a street illegally. That’s the closest I’ve come to going to jail, and it was a bit of an adventure being manhandled by the police :)

I was pretty cold even though I was bundled up in a puffy jacket, scarf, hat, ski boots and mitts. Only my eyes and nose were exposed.

When I decided it was time to go home, I walked, alone, down a main street. I was only a few blocks from my friends and there were still tons of people around when I heard a drunk guy in a truck yell something about me being a hooker. Startled and a little afraid, I hurried home as fast as I could and was happy to lock the door behind me.

What I learned:
- Celebrating football victories with friends is good.
- Walking alone in the dark is not so good.

I should invest in a big, scary boyfriend or pepper spray.

My possible nest

Lately I’ve been thinking it would be nice to have a home of my own. It would be nice to have my rent go towards actually buying something. It would be nice to escape my roommate’s incessant door-bell ringing girlfriend and to know that only people I choose to let in would be allowed in. It would be nice to have a little nest.

I have my heart set on this cute tiny green and white house: I’ve been pre-approved for a mortgage, I have my deposit ready, I’m buying a bunch of furniture from my grandma’s estate (she passed away last week and I’ve been meaning show you the tribute I wrote her, which was adapted and read at her funeral), and I’m ready to buy the house and move. There’s just one little problem – the house isn’t for sale anymore.

The house had been listed for about two months and I kept drooling over it. I had just decided late last week to make an offer when my realtor said the owner is taking the house of the market temporarily while making some improvements so he can put the price up. While a contractor working at the house told me all the owner is doing is painting, putting in new carpet and replacing the bathroom sink and toilet, my realtor is guessing the price will go up $20,000. Needless to say, I don’t want to pay $20,000 for a paint job. I’m trying to get my realtor to talk to the owner and see if the owner and I can come to an agreement on the new price and the repairs being done.

I can’t stop thinking about the house and imagining myself living in it. It’s not in the best neighbourhood, but it’s affordable, in good shape and just the right size to fit me.

In the last month, I …

- worked a lot of overtime all over the province,
- got into the habit of eating cake in hotel beds,
- kissed a bellboy in a park behind the hotel,
- decided to take a break from dating and from boys and am relieved to just be still,
- took a lot of photos,
- got tired,
- visited my sick grandma and told her that I love her,
- cried a lot,
- tried (unsuccessfully) to wash the last of the terrible dye job our of my hair,
- thought about scratching my tattoo off even though I love it,
- drew a picture of my soul (it’s red and white and blowing in the breeze),
- realized I’m so abstract it’s hard for people to understand me,
- went for a brilliant massage,
- actually did my physio exercises for the first time in months,
- got shot in the head while paint-balling,
- heard I have a shot at moving up into a contract job that has benefits and doesn’t come with “intern” in the title,
- crunched the yellow leaves on the sidewalk,
- watched the season premieres of Desperate Housewives and Grey’s Anatomy,
- got annoyed that Faunty didn’t get a phone when she moved in a few blocks away from me,
- became such a hotel snob that I checked out of one (disgusting) hotel after ten minutes and upgraded to the Hilton,
- was mistaken for a piece of artwork at a fancy restaurant when I was eating alone, separated from another table by a frosted-glass window,
- fell in love with chocolate martinis,
- gave presentations to other employees about what my department is working on,
- pulled a presentation together even when the laptop and powerpoint slides wouldn’t work,
- got impatient for an election to be called,
- saw the premier at a media conference and didn’t tell him he’s guaranteed my vote,
- was trusted to borrow a shiny company car,
- didn’t crash or otherwise damage the shiny company car,
- became more confident,
- paddled (and lost) at the Dragon Boat races,
- and became happier.

An edited history

The small-town paper I where I used to work is in a bit of trouble; it has no editor.

It was about a month ago when I discovered this interesting gossip on a website I check for journalism job postings. Just this morning, though, I got an email from the journalism school telling me about the job, which means the publisher wrote to the school asking for the posting to be distributed. I was pretty sure the job was mine if I wanted it, but I wasn’t expecting the paper to try to recruit me or one of my classmates.

If you’ll recall, last year I had an interesting conversation with the editor and the publisher. They called my writing “childish” and “immature,” adding that I should try to use bigger words and more complicated sentences. As that is the opposite of journalism, I disagreed. Standing in the publisher’s office, shaking a little, I told her that my loyalties were to our readers and to making the news simple and comprehensible – and I told her it was an issue for which I would sacrifice the job. She backed down, but I left the paper shortly afterwards because I couldn’t stay knowing the bosses didn’t understand or value my work.

Naturally, I looked up the online version of the paper to see the last editorial from my former boss… and the way he was writing was remarkably similar to the style I developed for my column. And I saw an article the other reporter I worked with had written, which looked like an attempt to bring my column back. As I looked through the online content, I noticed a more casual, friendly tone – exactly what I had been working to develop while I was there.

I find it very flattering that they are looking for someone like me to run the paper. Even after so long, I’m glad to see evidence that they believe in me and what I was trying to do.

Hard to digest

My little sister will be going into Grade 5 this year, which is hard to believe because she’s growing so fast. Last time I saw her, she made a sarcastic comment about my shoes – and everyone knows using sarcasm is a right of passage from childhood to early adolescence.

Another thing that’s hard to believe is that when she goes back to school, her new teacher will be the kid who had a crush on me from the time I was into heat-activated colour-change sweatshirts, the Sweet Valley Twins and penny candy to the time I was all about shopping and not eating and spending hours on the phone.

One time this kid, whom my little sister refers to as a Mister, thought my new grape-flavoured tube of lip gloss smelled good and asked if he could see it. I passed it to him and watched in a mixture of confusion, amusement and revulsion as he put some on, licked it, liked how it tasted, rolled the stick of gloss up as high as it would go and ate it. All of it.

Another time Mr. Teacher and I got into fight because I heard a rumour that he had said something mean about me. The fight took place right after I had filled a bowl with ice cream and messy delicious syrups and may have resulted in me chasing him all over our church and the parking lot, trying to throw my snack on him. (Incidentally, my little sister told me there was a fundraiser at school where if the kids made enough money, someone could throw a pie at him.)

Despite our arguments, he and I grew to be friends and I got used to him liking me. When he stopped liking me or as he said “put me on the back burner” and began telling me about this other girl he was interested in, I was lost. We stayed friends until high school ended, but mostly lost touch after that.

Now my little sister, who is excited to be his student, tells me he is engaged. I guess this means he’s learned there are better ways to impress girls besides eating their cosmetics ;)

All the best with your new adult life, Mr. Teacher, and congratulations on your engagement.

A list of things, both old and new

1. I just got a tattoo. It’s something I’ve been thinking about for years and it means a lot to me. It’s a few words, written in Hebrew, that summarize everything I believe.

The guy who did it for me was almost finished when I asked if he could add a tiny Harry-Potter lightning bolt. He did and I love it and, yes, that too is deeply significant to me.

2. I like mustard sandwiches. Just bread and les moutard. Yum.

I like it so much I had one for breakfast.

3. I may be allergic to my new house. (Oh, I guess I didn’t tell you that I moved at the beginning of the month). The house is from 1918 or 1919 and it’s great except that I’ve been finding it hard to breathe lately. Hopefully I just have a little cold and don’t have to move again.

4. One of my new roommates (I have four) is really good looking. He’s moving out at the end of the month, which is likely for the best. He’s smart and quiet and inquisitive and way too pretty to be 39.

5. I’m not in a pre-relationship with the really nice, cute, smart, fun guy anymore. I really like him, but I’m not sure anything - even friendship - will come of it.

6. I did something really stupid and was aware that it was a terrible decision days in advance.

The Snowplower called and said he missed me. He said he wanted me back in his life and that he wanted me to be his girlfriend. (Sounding familiar?) Then he invited me over for dinner and a movie and I was envisioning this perfectly romantic date with candles, desert and good conversation.

As it turns out, we had corn and salad on the couch while he flipped through a bunch of channels – including (seriously) his porn channels!

What a way to win a girl back, huh? I asked him to change the channel and had him take me home at 9:00 p.m..

7. My older sister is pregnant again (she and her husband have a three-year-old boy and twin boys who are a year and a half) and her doctor thinks she’s pretty big for having only baby this time. My family is teasing her about having a) a giant b) another set of twin boys and/or c) triplet girls.

8. I’m just halfway through my one-year internship, but last week I was offered a writing job that has the possibility of becoming permanent. I told them I’m not really interested in it (there are a few more opportunities coming up that I’d rather do) so they tried to tempt me with an office.

Twenty-five year olds should not have their own offices with doors and name plates! I’m way too young for that. And I’m still not really wanting the job.

9. Shortly after being offered the job, I decided I needed to do something youthful and unprofessional. So I dyed my hair this really bright purpley-red. I’m embarrassed to be so florescent in the office and am glad it’s just a washout dye.

Details as requested

So things with the boy are progressing nicely. We've gone for lunch, to a football game and to the park. It was my birthday on Monday and he came over to my place after I got back from a delightful BBQ/pinata party with my family.

He's really smart, he has a bigger vocabulary than I do and we've reached a consensus on semi-colon usage. The other day we were hanging out and his eyes were sparkling at me, as they seem prone to doing. I couldn't keep myself from saying, "I kind of like you." He kind of likes me too.

We're in a "pre-relationship" (his term) and we're just getting to know each other now. I like it.

I met a boy on the weekend. My really smart perfect friend had a few people over on Friday and we watched some football, drank some beer and talked a bit about literature. The boy also likes Frankenstein, which is a definate plus. I once decided (rather temporarily) that I'd never date anyone who hadn't read and loved the story. All of a sudden it was 3:00 am and we were tossing my football in the street in the dark. It was fun.

The boy called today.

:)

Better than coffee

In my great big office building there are lots of workers. And some of these workers are young and fun and like to take long breaks outside throwing a football around.

We’ve only been playing catch a few days now, but I really like it. I’m getting better at throwing and catching, I’m more awake at work in the afternoons and I’m definitely enjoying the company.

I like the sun, I like being barefoot on the grass, I like playing football and I really like having boys to play catch with in the park.

The case of the disappearing finances

I almost cried when trying to check my bank balance today. About a month ago I signed up for a new high-interest savings account with a bank that only communicates online and over the phone.

I put almost all of my money into the account on the advice of a financial advisor, but today when I went to log into my account for the first time, the computer said, “Welcome Michael.” (My name isn’t Michael).

In a panic I called the customer service centre and the worker who was helping me kept saying he didn’t know what was going on and that he couldn’t find me in the system. He put me on hold to try and figure out what had happened and while I was waiting I realized I was on the .com version of the bank’s site, not the .ca Canadian version.

Back on the Canada site I was able to log in and see that all my money is accounted for. (Phew). The stress I just went through cost me more than the interest I’ll collect this year.

You know you are just a kid disguised as a business professional when:

1) You sneak chocolate pudding cups into the office in your purse and you eat them with your finger at your desk.

2) You can’t stop spinning back and forth in your office chair.

3) You are late for work so often that the security guards know your name and give you parental looks of disapproval when you race to the elevator.

4) You feel like you’re still taking part in an elementary-school experiment where your teacher gave you fake money and fake work so you could practice being an adult.

5) You don’t care that your skirt will show off the bruises that you always have on your legs.

Random plops

Today I am a girl; my legs are smooth, I’m wearing a skirt (with ribbons on it, no less) and I’m teetering around in fabulous heels. The weather is supposed to be really nice today and I can’t wait to get outside.


You know what I love? The sound of pointy heals clicking on marble flooring. (Actually any tiled surface would do, but marble is more fun). It’s even better when the floor is so clean it shines and the shoe reflects on the surface. That’s how things were in Ottawa. Here at work we mostly have click-suppressing carpet.


Last night I called the Snowplower to tell him that I’m upset with him and that his last chance is over. I got his voicemail, which is what I expected since he’s not so good at picking up when I call, but just leaving the message felt cathartic. I’m going to try to be home as little as possible the rest of the week, because he seems to like it when I’m mad at him. (Did I mention that he and I were dysfunctional together from the time we first met?)


I’ve been conditioning myself to like dark chocolate and thought I was ready to take the plunge from 86 % cocoa to 99 %. The wrapper on the 99 % bar came with a tasting warning that strongly advised not eating the chocolate until being fully adjusted to less intense varieties. I tried it anyways and while it was okay, I was less satisfied than I wanted to be. I have two huge 99 % chocolate bars, so by the time they’re gone maybe my tastes will have acclimatized.


On my way to yoga yesterday, I walked past a crazy or very stoned guy on the street. He was talking to himself but when I went by he said, “I really like your pants. You’re beautiful.” And despite the fact that I was wearing beat up and dirty yoga pants, I’m keeping the compliment.

My semi-colon

I'm well aware what you will think when I tell you this. You will think I should be over it by now, I shouldn't have expected things to change, that I should have left a long time ago and that it's ridiculous that I let things get to the point they're at.

The Snowplower and I are over. Again. And this time is worse than any of the other times because I wanted to believe him so badly. He said he wanted to be a part of my life, to play football in the park with me, to make me dinner, to have me take care of him when he wasn't feeling well and to have us be a real, official couple.

Actually what he meant was: Start liking me again so I can be the one who rejects you.

It's been this weird little game between us of who is going to do the rejecting. He'll do something lame -- like not call for two or three weeks -- to reject me. Then he'll call and apologize and I'll tell him he's too late. Then I'll feel bad when he sounds sad and I'll forgive him and he'll say a bunch of sweet things and I'll agree to see him again. And as soon as we're done hanging out I know it's going to be another long time until he calls again and starts the whole angry unhealthy loop over again.

And despite the constant leaving, when he comes back over and over again, it feels almost like he's being patient with me, like he wants to make things work and like he really cares. Which is pretty much the opposite of what's actually happening, but it's a less depressing -- and therefore much easier -- way to look at the situation.

We had fun a week and three days ago. Or at least I did. And now he's not calling again and I'm worried that when he does call (if he does) I won't be able to convince him that I don't want to keep seeing him.

Does all of this sound pathetic? I know. I just can't seem to fix it.

The other day I had a debate with this cool, fun (and unfortunately engaged) guy about semi-colons. We were arguing about proper use of this esteemed form of punctuation.

I love semi-colons and other forms of punctuation, in case you hadn't gathered that by now. And anyway, when a semi-colon is used in what I consider its best form it's used to balance out two equal sentences, adding more meaning and more connectedness to both. All I want is to discover my other sentence.

Here's the deal...

I'm going to be pruning my blog over the next little while, making it more appropriate for people who know me to read. Then I'll link to it through Facebook, thus uniting my two loves so I won't have to choose between them.

Once I get that under control, I'm sure there will be many more posts here about such exciting things as how I sometimes take my shoes off under my desk or how I stepped in (squishy, warm) poop the other morning or how delighted I am to have a free emergency car kit and no car. After all, who needs a car when you can have flares, candles, jumper cables and a rain poncho all in one cute tote?

Getting reaquainted

Of course I couldn't stay away. How could I pass up the opportunity to write out obsessively-detailed accounts of my adventures?

Now that I'm back, it's time to share some secrets.

1) A fool proof way to get me to develop a rather serious crush on you (provided that you are: male, within my age range, relatively attractive) is to have a homeless guy we pass on the street mention the time you took him out for beer and conversation. Priceless.

2) I can't share this particular secret, other than to say that it was monumental and about time.

3) I have a birth mark on my upper thigh that I've used pretty much my whole life as a guide for how short my shorts can be. I just bought a pair of shorts that are significantly shorter than they should be. They're scandelously cute.

4) I added someone who used to stalk me as a friend on Facebook.

5) I don't know if I'll ever get used to the idea that my younger sister (the Photographer) is married. (I can't wait for you to come home, Sunshine).

6) I really wanted laser eye surgery so that if I went off in the jungle I wouldn't have to worry about my glasses breaking or getting lost. Now that I can't have the surgery (my corneas are too skinny) my less than realistic daydreams are even further away.

Your turn.

Dear Blog,

You were right; I did miss you.

It's just so hard to get in touch with you since I can't really talk to you while I'm at work, since I don't have any way of getting in touch with you when I'm at my place and since I've been ... ahem ... cheating on you with facebook. It's terrible, I know.

It's also confusing that you are 50% anonymous and 50% in touch with me. It's hard to know what's safe to say to you. If you were a complete stranger I could tell you all my scandals and not worry about what you would think.

And if you were a friend, you would know my name and I could show you my pictures and I could tell you weird things like how I felt I could walk right into the paintings by Renoir that I saw at the gallery in Ottawa and know that you understood.

Even so, I like you. Everytime something funny or strange or neat happens to me, I want to let you know.

If I make some changes to our relationship -- like making you more or less anonymous -- perhaps things will work out.

- g

p.s. Ottawa was amazing. I'll try to post some pictures later this week.

p.p.s. I have an appointment tomorrow with a surgeon about lazer eye surgery. If all goes well, I'll be in the operating room on Wednesday.

p.p.s.s. There's a store in Ottawa called Sugar Mountain. My poor teeth will never be the same.

Hello there, Blog.

How's it going?

I know it's been a while, but I just don't have that much to say to you. Things aren't really working out between us anymore.

I really like you and all, but I think we need to take a break.

I'll let you know when I'm ready to come back.

Take care,

- g

Or I could get a seeing eye dog

I just booked an appointment with my eye doctor. We’re going to talk about the possibility of me getting laser eye surgery.

Thinking about getting the top layer of my eyes sliced open, having a computer-directed beam shooting deep into my eye and reshaping it, and wearing Band Aid contacts until I can see again – provided that I don’t go blind – makes me quite nervous.

Also, paying just over $3,000 for something that has no guarantees doesn’t do much to relax my nerves, especially considering that it’s only $1,599 for a flight to Johannesburg and back. But a trip to Far Away would be even better if I could see once I got there.

Eulogy for my car

I sold my darling red car on Monday and have been forlorn ever since. She was my first (and possibly last) car I've ever had. I've owned her for a year and during that time she took me racing up to my job at the newspaper. She carried me to the beach, to a funeral for a murdered RCMP officer, to court and back to my parents' home pretty much every weekend when I was homesick in my strange new town.

She was my shiniest friend and she was always sitting outside waiting for me to come and play. I miss her and how free I felt speeding down the highway singing at the top of my lungs.

Though I loved her, I sold her because 1) I'm a bad driver, 2) I'm trying to be more environmentally friendly, 3) and because my selling price ($2,500) is almost enough to pay for lazer eye surgery. Or six months rent. Or a year's worth of groceries. Or a plane ticket to a far away hot place. Or an awful lot of yoga classes.

The girl who bought my car promised to love her, take of take her to the beach all the time, so I'm sure my car won't be too heartbroken without me.

Wedding

The Photographer is getting married in six days. Six days is not a lot of time and I still haven't gotten used to the idea of her being a Mrs.

She's a year and a half younger than me and it's weird to think of my little sister being old enough to get married. I don't even consider myself an adult, so when people who're younger than me think they're ready for grown-up stuff.

My first boyfriend was engaged by the time he was 20, most of my childhood friends are married and/or have kids, and now my little sister who used to battle me for the rights to read the newest Sweet Valley Twins book is going to be half of an "us."

Also, I just discovered that both of the guys I was reserving* in case I ever wanted to settle down** are married or are in the process of getting married.

So I'm having a bit of a crisis coming to terms with all the marrying going on.

I should mention I'm happy for the Photographer. She seems happy and snuggley and ready. And I just bought my very own camera to take pictures for her since she'll be way too busy these next few days to worry about getting all the shots she'll want later.

* I suppose it might have helped if I told them I was keeping them just in case.

** Highly unlikely.

Dot beeling berry dood

The Photographer and her fiance were in the Phillipines and just got back last week. When they returned they were both ill. The Photographer had pnemonia and her fiance had strep throat.

Since they've been home, my littlest sister developed bronchitis, my mom and Faunty have colds and, according to my doctor, I have "tonsilitus and a crackly chest."

I hate missing work, but today is my third day in a row on sick leave. Yesterday I went into the office but only lasted 10 minutes before taking myself home to bed.

I'm a little disappointed that my illness is an ordinary one. I would much rather have gotten an exotic Asian sickness than a regular North-American infection.

Once the snow melts...

The Snowplower called Monday at noon and left a voicemail message asking what would have to happen for him to be my boyfriend.

I wasn’t sure if I was even going to call him back, as things did end rather messily the last time, but by 8:30 that night I gave in and called.

When there was no answer I left a message that said simply, “Hi it’s me. Call back when you get a chance.” (Please note how I did not say, “Hi, I want to be your girlfriend. Please stop by my apartment whenever you get a chance.”)

I went to home for lunch today and on the way I heard a car honk. A guy across the street said something to the guy who had honked and I didn’t pay much attention to either of them. Then my phone was ringing when I got to my door. Any guesses who it was?

It was the Snowplower saying he was at the front door and that he was coming in to hang out with me while I ate lunch. I was confused and a little flustered and a bit creeped out, but I still managed to say, “Aren’t you going to ask permission first?”

So then he asked if he could spend my lunch break with me. I said he could but that we’d have to go somewhere to eat because I didn’t want him in my apartment.

Then he told me how he had just been at the hospital getting some help with his kidney stones and that he wasn’t feeling and just wanted to see me. So I let him in.

We didn’t really have anything to talk about and it was really awkward as I live in a bachelor suite with my bed in the living room performing as a couch and a table. We sat on my bed in near silence as I ate lunch.

Then he told me that he missed me and that he just wants to be with me. (I don’t really believe it because if you actually like someone, you probably don’t go months without talking to that person. We hadn’t seen each other since the day before I started my new job).

Then he tried to kiss me and that didn’t go over too well.

We talked for a few minutes and then he tried to swoop in and steal a kiss. Again I didn’t let him and this time I was mad that he was trying again. After all, how long is a “no” valid? I think a “no” has to last at least a little longer than a minute or two.

He pressures me too much, he seems to think I’m lazy (because my dishes and floors weren’t washed in time for his surprise visit), we have nothing in common, and I feel like he’s trying to manipulate me. Last time things ended, I rearranged my apartment to try to forget that he had been there. Things have been in this long dying-out process since we met and I don’t know what to do since the empathetic, overly-forgiving and admittedly-stupid part of me still has the remnants of a crush on him.

This morning

In case you’ve been dying to know, the boardroom meeting went well. I was only nervous for the first few minutes and then everything fell into place – probably because the other intern did such a good job organizing it and because her part was before mine.

After the boardroom meeting, I whipped up an article for our employees about some exciting news that totally relates to all the stuff I’ve been working on this past while. I’m happy about the news personally, professionally and politically. (I’d tell you what it is, but then I wouldn’t be able to keep pretending that my blog is anonymous).

As soon as that was finished, I printed off some copies of our newest press release and headed out for a meeting with my organization’s spokesperson. Luckily I didn’t have to present at that meeting too.

After all that hectic business, I noticed it’s already 11:15 – almost time for lunch.

I have nothing to say expect for these points:

1) It's nice outside.

2) Faunty succeeded in her New Year's resolution to give me a bruise. (Don't worry, it's tiny and I'll survive).

3) The photographer is coming home in a week and a day.

4) I'm doing a presentation with another intern in the boardroom tomorrow.

5) I'm wearing pants that have a zipper but no button. While I was walking, the zipper came open. Maybe next time I'll wear a belt.

My ridiculousness

1.

I was walking to work, swinging my purse a little by the strap, when a bunch of people came towards me from the other direction. I moved a bit closer to the edge of the sidewalk and continued swinging my purse.

As I was passing a fire hydrant, I felt a slight tug – my purse had gotten hooked on the front spout.

2.

I was at a work seminar earlier this week wearing my regular boots and walking down a flight of regular stairs. Then I tripped and most glamorously struggled not to fall on my face. I barely managed to avoid falling. I did not manage to avoid embarrassing myself.

One might think that after 24 and a half years of existing, remaining upright should be a rather easy and mundane task.

3.

You’ll forgive me for telling you such outdated news when you hear how disastrous it was.

Five years ago I was working as a house keeper at a fairly nice hotel when I lived in a mountain-resort town. I was wearing a drawstring skirt and a mandatory cleaning staff apron that tied in the back.

A hotel guest (male, late 40’s, early 50’s) was still in his room when I went to clean it and he wanted me to clean his room while he worked at a table across from the bed. As I was making his bed, my ankle-length skirt felt a little loose so I kept tugging it up.

It wasn’t until I was in the next room that I realized it hadn’t been my skirt that I was adjusting. Instead, I had been tugging up my very unprofessional underwear and likely sending out a rather inappropriate message. It wasn’t long after that terrible embarrassment that I decided to stop making other people’s beds.

4.

I developed a crush on the guy who was behind me in line at the grocery store last night. This happened solely because he laughed at something I said and because our groceries matched. He was buying healthy bread and a huge case of organic salad. I was buying whole-wheat bread and organic lettuce.

It’s totally meant to be.

Office observations

1. There’s a pair of scissors in my office that I’m afraid of. They’re so long and clinical-looking that I once held them up to my side to see if they’d go all the way through me. They would.

My office is so concerned about security that I’m not allowed to go to my desk without first showing the security guards my ID card, yet an enraged worker could stab all the way through me with an office-provided tool.

2. There’s a 25-person and 4,000-pound limit on our elevator. But it is suffocatingly-crowded when nine smallish people squish on for the ride to their floor. I wonder what circumstance would have 25 160-pound people stacked floor to ceiling to meet the elevator’s carrying capacity.

3. The cleaning staff waters my plant and vacuums around my desk. But, as is rather obvious, they don’t vacuum behind my desk. I have a pile of leaves and papers that must have taken years to get so deep.

A guy who works near me has papers, leaves, an orange and what appears to be the remains of a hotdog wrapped in a pita lost in the abyss behind his desk.

4. I find it rude taking candy from the bowl by the secretary’s desk, so I always find myself waiting until lunch break or the end of the day when no one’s around before I’ll grab a little treat. It seems a little like authorized theft.

Nice things

Nice thing 1:

Faunty and I were at the library the other day and I was looking at the magazine selection. Time looked especially interesting with a double-edition feature issues around climate change and I really wanted to read it. Unfortunately the library holds on to a new magazine until a newer one comes in to replace it, so Faunty and I left sans Time.

The next day I checked my mail and (get ready for a touch of irony) that issue of Time was waiting there for me. Turns out the person who lived in the apartment before me didn't let the magazine know she moved. I hope I keep getting Time for free forever.

Nice thing 2:

I had a shower just before meeting a friend for a leisurely Saturday morning walk and my hair was still damp when we started walking. It was so nice out that the sun dried my hair and I wasn't even a tiny bit cold.

Nice thing 3:

I got my taxes back today and the total comes to $2,100. Yes, that's the right number. $2,100 is a lot of money. And payday is on Monday. I'll pay off the last bit I owe on my student loan and I'll finally be in the plus. Yay.

A possible scenario

Suppose a young professional is late getting to her office even though she likes her job and knows she has a boardroom meeting first thing in the morning.

Perhaps she’s running behind schedule because when she decided what she would wear to work that day, her definition of knee-length was a little confused. Maybe her “knee-length” skirt is more of a “lower-thigh” length and her “knee-high” boots would more accurately be described as “almost-top-of-calf” length.

And so, perhaps by her thinking that her skirt would meet her boots thereby covering up any knee hairs, she may have been startled to discover an urgent need for a quick shave.

She may have been in such a hurry that she decided to save time by shaving in her boots and skirt even though she’d have to wipe the soap off her boots with a towel.

The creep within and without

The creep without:

An odd phenomon happens almost every time I go home for lunch. When I walk past the basement apartment windows, get to the front door of my building and start digging my keys out of my purse, the door buzzes and unlocks.

A few times I wondered if having my key near the lock was making it open, but several experiments proved that was not the case.

Then I tried walking to my building from the other side and found that the door did not buzz open for me.

At first I thought this was a cute little kindness, but it's happening too often. If someone really is sitting in his window, waiting for me to walk past every lunch hour just for the honour of buzzing me into my building, I think I ought to be a little alarmed.

Maybe it's a fluke or maybe someone gets a kick out of buzzing in all the tenents in our building, but I'm not really liking it.

*******

The creep within:

Now that I've detailed a potentially creepy thing happening to me, let me tell you about a joke I made that didn't go over too well.

There's this guy -- smart, semi-good looking, around my age -- who'se working on a big project my department is involved with. He's into computers and has access to all kinds of information, so when I forgot to bring an important paper to work with me, I e-mailed him asking him to send me my personal information from his database.

A short while later he sent me what I needed to know and I found it hard to believe he actually had that information about me. So I e-mailed back saying, "Thanks. Do you also happen to know my social insurance number and my mother's maiden name?" I debated on adding a ;) to the message, but decided that wouldn't be work appropriate.

He hasn't responded and I think I may have frightened him.

****
The moral of my story is this:

Don't be creepy if you don't want other people to be creepy to you.

Spolied rotten

There was a pale pink package wrapped in a bow waiting on my desk when I got to the office this morning. Inside was a lovely treat -- a $100 gift certificate to the spa. I have a massage booked for tomorrow evening and I can't wait.

Also today, I found out that there's a big conference in Ottawa in June. It's related to what I do at my job, so work is most likely paying for a few of my coworkers and I to go on a learning trip.

And we have another business trip coming up next week and will be staying at another nice hotel.

I'm starting to get used to all this spoiling. I wish my internship could last forever.

Summer school

I get to go to school for free this summer.

I found a summer class that I wanted to take and I thought it would help me do better at my job. When I told my boss about it, she said work would pay for it and other relevant classes I might want to take.

I love school and free school is even better.

Information plops

This weekend I learned that I am not completely irresistable.

To compensate for an awkward rejection, I went shopping and bought myself a ridiculously-expensive tank top. It cost $53, but I really do love it that much. It's designed for yoga, dancing and jogging and just being in it makes me feel like working out.

I have the day off to recover from my work event this weekend (which was really stressful and hectic but turned out mostly okay), so I'm hanging out with my mom and doing all kinds of boring things like laundry, packing, grocery shopping and bill paying.

The photographer left this morning for an overseas adventure. She's getting married in a month and a half to a guy who does a lot of travelling in his career, so she's going to visit him, do some touring of her future homeland and take a lot of pictures. I feel weird that she's gone and that she'll have to navigate a foreign airport alone, but I'm sure she'll have a great time and come back with a fantastic tan just in time for her wedding.

The perks

I'm sitting high above the downtown area of a big city in a fancy hotel, wearing my bathing suit as I type this on my friend's laptop. I'm on a business trip and just had to let you know that I'm about to hop into the hot tub. Some days I love my job.

A busy day

I just helped write a few radio ads. It was fun. And I can’t believe someone else will soon be reading my words live on the radio. It’s crazy.

Now I’m working on a little promo film my company is doing. I’m putting together a storyboard, which means I’m picking the words and all the pictures to go along with them for the film. Basically I’m directing the film, which is rather exciting.

The camera guy/ editor said he’s ready to do whatever I ask him to. I told him I can be obsessive compulsive when it comes to projects like this, so he should let me know if I’m being annoying. He replied that he’s glad I’m care about the project and that I’m going to be making sure things go smoothly.

Two of the four of us who work together are sick and our deadlines are getting tight for the big projects we’re doing. I’m a little nervous about how little time we have left, but I’m sure we can pull it off.

P.S. I have my first business cards ever. I love them. They have my phone number, fax number, e-mail, degree, job title, work address and everything on them. I feel a little pompous carrying them around in my purse.

A few personal shortcomings

Feeding myself is turning out harder than it should be. Part of the problem is that my fridge is broken so pretty much all I can have in my apartment are room-temperature foods.

Other obstacles are that I am 1) cheap, 2) lazy and 3) a picky eater.

Today I missed breakfast and was foraging through my cupboard for something to eat at work. I found a bag of baking walnuts. They are now gone and my jaw is a little sore from all the chewing.

At lunch time, I thought I'd bring myself a little afternoon snack. Apart from a package of cookie dough, the only acceptable snack I could find was a bag of chocolate chips. They were delicious at first, but I have had far too many of them for one afternoon.

I think it's about time for me to invest in a box or two of granola bars.

Another complication of living on my own is that now there's no one to clean up my messes. No one washes my dishes or scrubs out my stove or cleans my tub or stocks up on toilet paper for me anymore. I miss my good-cooking, good-cleaning mom.

I actually am so tired of my messiness that I called a few cleaning companies yesterday to see how much it would cost to have a maid. It costs would cost almost as much as rent to have someone else do my tidying for me. I'm trying to convince my mom I need a weaning process to get me used to cleaning up after myself, but I don't think my charms are working on her.

While I may not be able to feed myself properly or clean up my miniature home, I still have my super-shopping abilities. You'll be pleased to know that I now have a pair of snug-hipped wide-legged plaid work pants ($19.99) and a light blue, dark green and maroon button-up work shirts ($15 for all three).

So I may be messy and malnourished, but at least I am professionally attired.

Ode to the melting

It's officially spring. I love it. I love that the sidewalks are clear and that there are little rivers of melted snow trickling down the gutters. I love that I didn't have to wear a winter jacket today, that my newly-waxed legs can feel the spring breeze and that there are dogs, babies and all kinds of people out in the park. I love that my glasses aren't fogging up when I come inside and that I don't have to wear my winter boots every day. And I love how little birds sing outside my window when the sun comes up and shines on me. It's great.

Good news (mostly)

The snow is melting, spring is coming, I'm going to the symphony tonight and P is back. It's lovely.

Yesterday I went on a business trip for lunch and a quick meeting. It was fun, but during the long drive I may have disclosed a few too many personal details. Like that I once dated a criminal. That was a rather unfortunate thing to mention.

But the trip was good, the event we're planning will be huge and I get to film a documentary -- entirely on my own -- for a project we have in the works. And there's a possibility I could stay on at the place I'm working (I'm on an internship right now) and participate in a major project the company is working on.

So that's a lot of good stuff going on. So it makes it okay that I did something I really shouldn't have. Because a girl can't have everything go well for her at a time.

I called the Snowplower. He said he's missed me (a few weeks ago I told him I was done with our messy confusing "relationship") and said that now he'll have a regular schedule and a lot more time to hang out with me.

I don't think he really means anything he says, so thus continues the saga of our pseudo-relationship's demise.

Bonus points

I have a terrible addiction to bonus points at Shoppers' Drug Mart. Every time there's a 20X points event, I feel like I need to spend $100s of dollars.

Yesterday happened to be a bonus day for preferred customers (ones that spend ridiculous amounts of money on dill pickle Crispy Minis and eyeshadow) and I got a little carried away. All I really wanted was a chocolate bar, but I ended up with four bags full of "groceries" and quite a few bonus points. I have got to stop doing that.

To be placed in a lavender-scented trunk

My darling little blog, how I have missed you. I sit at my desk trying not to think about you, but am failing miserably at that task.

I didn't get to tell you that the Snowplower left me a very romantic voicemail. He said, "I was just wondering if you maybe wanted to make out. Call me."

I didn't get to tell you that I called him back a few days later and said, "thanks for the lovely offer, but this is hurting me too much and I need a lot more than that." I'm kind of proud of me.

I didn't get to tell you that I wrote an Executive Memo the other day and felt very pompous while doing it.

I didn't even get to tell you that when I write press releases, I'm supposed to make up quotes from the important people in the office. This scandalizes me and makes me think I must still be rather naive. (After I make up the quotes, a few other people tweak them and the person I attributed them to approves them, so it's only 87% lying.)

I didn't get to tell you that years ago someone committed suicide off my building and now I can't look at the parking lot the same way.

I didn't get to tell you that I could've someone the other day. My smoke detector was going (even though my cookies were still raw) so I opened my window. And when I opened my window, it almost fell out of the frame. And there were people down below. And yes, the smoke detector was still blaring while I was trying not to drop my window on strangers' heads. My that was a fun time.

Well dear blog, it's been far too long. But I must go. I'm off to play Barbies with Faunty and our littlest sister. Somehow I think I'm going to have to be the bad guy who steals pets or kidnaps babies. I'll try to keep in touch.

-g

The boardroom

Work is crazy. I do all kinds of things, from rolling up and mailing posters, to writing Important Documents, having meetings about T-shirt designs and going to boardroom meetings.

I sat in on a big meeting today in my huge comfy chair and had a hard time paying attention. All I could think was, "Where's The Donald?", "Why did they let me in here?" and "Why did I pick today to wear a button-up shirt with a sweater instead of a suit jacket?" It wasn't a meeting I had to really be a part of, so I used the time to write down and memorize everyone else's names.

I turned in two projects I've been working on earlier today and my boss seemed quite happy with them. Yay!

News plops

The Snowplower and I are done for real this time. He did something that hurt me and I spent the whole "relationship" being confusing and alternating between really liking and really disliking him.

It was messy from the start, but part of me was really starting to care about him.

I haven't been able to sleep well since the ending began and sometimes it feels like I'm suffocating when I'm alone in my apartment, but I'll be okay.

I'm going to spend the lonely times making myself a better person and doing more of the things I love like painting and yoga.


***
In completely unrelated and happier news, my job is amazing. It's so fun and busy and refreshing. My co-workers are taking my suggestions seriously and I feel like a respected and valuable part of our department. I worked on my own this morning doing some research and writing and spent the afternoon in a few meetings, laughing with the bosses.


***
It's hard work scouring all the grime from an old bathtub, wooden window wells, baseboards and walls. I thought my apartment was in pretty good shape until the cleaning spree started. Now it's looking like it will take hours.

Day one

I love my job and my huge window and my great big desk and my coworkers and my mountains of responsibilities.

I've never been so excited about a job before. Another girl and I will be working together and she is signed up for the boring stuff, while I get all the fantastic little plums. (We have different education and experience, so she probably thinks I have the lame job). I already gave my input in a meeting, organized my schedule for the next few months and met dozens of people whose names I won't remember. I'll be doing piles of research, a bunch of writing, giving training presentations to other employees and helping out with marketing campaigns. And I really believe in the work I'll be doing.

Apparently the company has a really strict internet policy and moniters all of our internet work, so I'll have to figure out a way to keep blogging.

My space

My bachelor suite is smaller, cuter and brighter than I remembered.

It also comes with a problem I hadn't really thought through. My bathroom has a window that stretches from above my head down to mid-thigh. I don't have blinds yet, so using the washroom presents a logistical challenge.

Besides the bathroom problem, everything is going well. I'm mostly moved in and partly unpacked. I met a few of the other tenants and (so far) they're all my age. It feels like I live in a dorm.

To do:

I move into my new home in nine hours. Most of my stuff is packed and ready to go. I can't wait to have another set of keys jingling around in my purse.

The Snowplower called today to make plans for later. I'm unpacking all morning on Valentine's Day and he works the afternoon shift (or so he says) so we're planning on hanging out on Thursday.

I have to pop into the office tomorrow to do some paperwork and to officially accept the job.

Also, I still need to buy a collection of dress pants and a navy sweater vest. (I know sweater vests aren't the hight of style, but I saw one I loved and am waiting desperately for the store to get one in my size.

I'm planning on doing a lot of cooking and baking at my parents' house over the next few days so I'll actually have something to eat besides cupboard shelves.

I have my phone and power hookups starting in the morning and have already bought some environmentally-friendly florescent lights to put up.

I'm excited about having my own place and being able to do what I want, when I want. But I think it could get pretty lonely not having my big family to hang out with all the time. And I'm worried that I'm going to let the Snowplower visit just often enough that my place will smell like him and feel empty when he's not there. I really don't want that.

High society

I feel very cultured because of my activites this weekend.

Last night Faunty and I went to the symphony and it was delicious. I loved it. The music really came alive and filled me up. The symphony is almost too much for me. The conductor once described it as "discovering seventh, eighth, ninth, tenth dimensions" and as going from seeing in black and white to seeing in colour.

This afternoon I went with a friend and her boyfrind for a cozy Sunday activity. We went to have a look around an art gallery and to see some ancient carvings. My friend's boyfriend ran into a guy he knew (an anthropologist in training), so the four of us walked aroung the exhibits together. The Smart Guy and I started talking when we were both awed by a Buddist idol that was over 2,000 years old and had spent most of its life guarding a Chinese outdoor temple.

Our group had only made it halfway through the gallery when I had to leave, but everyone else followed me out. Smart and I had only been talking a little here and there and he kept giving me information he had learned in class about some of the artwork, but he seemed disappointed that I had to go. We all made plans to go back to the gallery next week to see the rest of the display, and I'm counting it as a kind-of sort-of date.

Smart said goodbye to me with a little bow (he seriously had his hands together at chest hight and dipped his head towards me) and added, "It was more than a pleasure meeting you." It was strange but still really cute.

(I haven't forgotten about the Snowplower, but he seems to have forgotten about me. We haven't talked since Thursday morning even though I'm pretty sure he had the weekend off. I think he'll call Tuesday morning at 10:30, since we seem to have a standing phone date at that time. Things with him are frustrating and exhausting and I'm not sure if I want him to have my new number.)

My Valentine's vices

1. This time every year, I overdose on cinnamin hearts. I eat them by the handful until my eyes water and until my tastebuds fall off. I once made a friend take a mouthful while she was driving on the highway -- we barely survived.

2. I can't stand getting flowers. While I think they're pretty and smell nice and all, I have this weird compulsion where I rip the petals off and destoy them. This started when two huge creeps gave me flowers (separate incidents) that I ruined.

3. I was "seeing" this guy in Grade 8 and I ended things between us on Valentine's Day because he kept talking while I was reading a funny book. It was, like, totally so annoying.

4. A few years ago, I had quite the Valentine's dilemma.

I was thinking about maybe starting up a relationship with this guy I worked with (incidentally, my friends and I now refer him as Psycho) when this other guy who I'd been dating sporatically for about a year (he lived out of town and only came back once every few months) called to see what I was doing for Valentine's Day.

I didn't want to have to choose between them, so I spent Valentine's alone.

5. When I have assorted boxes of chocolates and don't know what's inside them, I dig little holes in the bottoms and taste them. If they're orange or any other gross flavour, I sneak them back into the box.

A room of one's own

I looked at three apartment suites yesterday and today I snatched up the best one. It's a cute tiny bachelor suite that's just the right size for me and my lack of stuff.

It's within walking distance to my new job, a coffee shop and a park. The building is charmingly old and I have fabulous hardwood floors and a sunrise-facing window. This apartment, unlike my last one, has a bathtub, which I promise to enjoy, and it has a storage room I can use as a bedroom since my bed is just little enough to fit inside.

I move in on Valentine's Day and start my new job two days after that.

My walls were being painted yesterday and they're a kind of apricot beige with popping white trim. I'm in the middle of painting my kitchen table and two old wooden chairs my mom gave me. I have white paint on my elbow, all over my hands, in my hair and on my jaw. Even though I keep painting myself, the chairs are starting to look good.

My new life is starting soon!

The weekend

As it turns out, I survived my weekend with all the strangers, participated in making a list of recomendations for the provincial government, and even had a (sort of) good time.

The government spent $750,000 on the youth conference and sponsoring business contributed $50,000, so my bus ticket, fancy hotel room, shuttle rides from the hotel to the conference centre, gourmet meals and my fantastic door prize (a portable DVD player) were all covered.

I caught the bus on Friday afternoon and this guy who got to the depot just in time asked to sit beside me. I made some space for him and he sat down and said, "I know this sounds really weird, but you were an extra playing a reporter in a T.V. crime show, weren't you?"

I gave him a strange look. The show hasn't even come out yet.

He told me he does some editing for a local production company and that he had just finished my scenes before racing to catch the bus.

Then we talked about his degree and mine and it turned out that his best friend and I were in the same program and graduated together. And it turns out that he and I had met briefly twice before.

He wasn't going to the conference, so I headed to the hotel alone and checked in. My room was HUGE and I didn't even have to share it with anyone. I hadn't seen many people in the lobby so I walked around and investigated the hotel a bit, trying to find something to do or someone to hang out with. Afterall, it was just 8:30 on a Friday night.

I checked out some business recruiting places but didn't find anyone to talk to, so I went and sat, alone, in the hot tub. Then I ended up watching T.V. in my suite.

The next day I ran into a guy I had met while we were working as extras a few months earlier for that T.V. crime show. I was eating breakfast with him and a table full of very nice strangers, when he totally exaggereated the "acting" we had done and made it seem like we were co-stars in the show. It was ridiculous. So then I went and hung out with different strangers.

Basically I spent the whole weekend meeting strangers, eating with them, wandering hallways with them, collecting their business cards and forgetting their names. It was a little lonely, but I'm really glad I went.

The political side of the weekend was great and we came up with a lot of suggestions for what the government could do to make the province into an ideal place for us to live. We talked about the environment, about developing the northern parts of the province for eco-tourism and recreation, about educating people about First Nations culture and about minority groups and about creating an exchange program for students from cities, farms and First Nations to learn more about each other and to have a better understanding of one another.

We talked about strengthening the downtown cores in the cities to revitalize them and about making it easier for local people to start their own businesses. We talked, essentially, about everything. And if the government listens and follows even a fraction of our recommendations, I will be thrilled.

Me and the strangers

I'm going to a political-type conference in another town this weekend with 599 strangers. I think it will be interesting and I never miss a chance to participate in democracy.

I'm heading out on a bus full of strangers, eating with strangers, particpating in focus groups with strangers and sharing a hotel with strangers. I'm thinking this will either be a fantastic trip or an awful one.

Gaggy

One of my sisters and I were talking the other day when I made a joke about her. Pretending to be upset, she grabbed a juggling ball (about the size of tennis ball and filled with something like sand) and chucked it at me when I wasn't looking.

The ball hit me hard, right in the throat. I assume she meant to hit me a little lower, but my sisters and I have terrible aim. Good thing we usually only hit each other.

Sometimes it's confusing in my head

You know how I said the Snowplower and I were done? We're not. In future posts it would be wise to disregard anything I say about our status because everything keeps changing.

We argue a lot because we don't really understand each other and because I read too much into the things he says. We had (another) disagreement yesterday morning (where he was clearly in the wrong) but I decided to give him another chance because I haven't had a job since we met and have had far too much time to spend analyzing every last bit of our "relationship" and getting mad about things that may not have even happened.

We were hanging out yesterday when he said something I found a little bit weird. He had his hands around my waist and said, "you're skinny." Well I'm not and I don't even want to be. I'm thin maybe or average or proportioned or toned, but not skinny. And the Snowplower isn't much bigger than me. He's taller, with nice big shoulders, but I bet I could borrow his jeans and not need a belt.

I'm sure he meant it as a compliment but it seemed strange, like he was just saying it because he thought I wanted to hear it. Which leads me in all my craziness to think that maybe he actually thinks I'm not thin enough, even though it's the opposite of what he said and doesn't make any sense. I'm even confusing myself.

I'm trying to stop going over our mundane conversations and looking for hidden meanings. I think everything will be a lot easier for me once I start my new job (did I mention it doesn't start until the middle of February?) and have more to think about.

The waiting is over

The woman doing the hiring for the public-relations job I want called late yesterday afternoon.

She began by saying, "I'm sorry. I have a few more ...."

She kind of paused and seemed to be searching for a word, so I tried to help her out by starting to say "more qualified candidates" and was prepared to ask what I could have done differently. It turned out she had been trying to say that she had a few more references to check and would let me know her final decision tomorrow.

She called this morning and offered me the job. Yay!

Now I need to go shopping and get me a business woman's wardrobe.

An end

The Snowplower and I just ended things.

He had asked me a few days ago about coming over for brunch today and I said okay. I called at around 10 this morning and left a message asking if we were still on. He called at 1:30 and said he guessed he was too late.

I agreed that he was too late and told him that I'm tired of not hanging out with him. I told him that when two people like each other, usually they would want to actually want to spend time together and not just talk on the phone once in a while. He responded by saying that he's really busy with work. "Work and sleep, that's my life," he said, then asked me to call him again sometime.

I have no idea why he would call so often if he didn't want to see me. I don't think we ever actually understood anything about each other.

And to clarify my last post about my non-single friends, I know (and have known for a while) that "he's just not that into me." I get that if someone doesn't make time to be with me that he doesn't want to date me. It just sucks to have happily-ever-after girls be so harsh about something that mattered to me.

P.S. Sorry about the depressed-sounding posts lately. I'll find out about the job I don't think I'll get in the next day or two, so there's a high likelyhood more glum ramblings will be coming up.

On the Snowplower and non-single friends

My friends, who are all in serious relationships, hate the Snowplower. None of them have met him, but they've heard a bit about him -- both good and bad -- from me.

One of my friends got angry with me for still liking him and was making me feel terrible for giving him another chance. Others seem annoyed when I tell them the cute things he had to say.

I like him and I'm tired of feeling like I have to defend my decision to keep talking to him. It sucks when my friends give me a list of reasons why I should get rid of the Snowplower and then talk about how wonderful their boyfriends/husbands are or about the fabulous plans they have for that evening.

I miss having single friends, I miss being able to relate to my best girls and I miss the days when my friends always had time for me.

Phew

My pointy shoes are off, my hair has been freed from its too-tight bun and I have finally stopped sweating.

People keep asking how the interview went and I don't know what to say. Parts were horrible and other parts were great. I had no opportunity to reveal what I know about the company's mission or the information I gleaned from the annual report. I had to admit I didn't know the answer to one of the interview questions about developing effective marketing strategies.

But I made the interviewers laugh a few times, they seemed impressed by my writing samples and they seemed to appreciate the scenarios I talked about from my work at the newspaper.

I won't be too surprised if I get the job and I won't be too surprised if I don't. I did some yoga and listened to classical music to calm down before the interview, so that may account for my more zen state of mind.

The big day

I went to bed sweating and work up with my nervous glands still on hyperactive.

My interview is in three hours, so I have enough time to review the notes I made. I've decided on wearing pants that are the same grey as the pinstripes in my jacket. I've put together a little folder of additional information for my interviewer (including my references, one more writing sample and a copy of the documentary I assistant produced in the spring). And I've absorbed about all that will sink into my head from the company's website.

While I'm still nervous, I know I'm ready and that I've done all I can.

A case of preformance anxiety

So I'm having a crisis. I was going to wear an uber-professional skirt suit, but I've decided it would look weird to be bare calved in the middle of January. My interview is with a woman and I don't want to scandalize her with unseasonal skin. I don't have the suit pants to match my jacket, so now I'm not so sure what I'm going to wear tomorrow.

I don't know where my hair straightener is either (I haven't seen it since I moved home) so I think I may have to resort to a curling iron or a severe-looking ponytail.

I sent in my work to my freelance boss and made a little joke about how it's lucky for him that I still haven't found a day job. He e-mailed back to say how much he liked what I had written and to offer to be a reference for me! I already have two good references but was thinking I should add another one to fill up the page, so I'm in luck.

I did a little investigating and found out that pretty much the entire interview will be questions about how I delt with particular situations in the past. I've been preparing answers to a bunch of possible questions, but am worried I'll slip up and start talking about all the times I've been "let go" or how I got so angry about punctuation at my last job that I couldn't handle it and had to quit.

I'm nervous that I didn't learn enough about the company and that I'll mess up the numbers, saying billions instead of millions or forgetting about the technical words I should be using.

My stomache is in knots and I feel like I'm going to throw up. I think I want this too much and I'm worried that because I want it so badly I'm going to turn into a babbling, stammering incoherent mess tomorrow. But for now I'm going to try to forget my nerves and have another look over the company's last annual report.

What I did today (a nearly comprehensive overview)

Today I had fun with my freelancing job and my potential new job.

I was checking out what was going on in court, mostly just out of curiousity, and saw a domestic violence trial. (I feel like a creep for being so fascinated by the legal system, by watching justice at work and hearing evidence about the crazy things some people do.) A guy hit his girlfriend bad enough that she needed nine stiches in her forehead and ripped her glasses off her face. He bent the glasses in half, bit them and then threw them into her yard. She didn't want to press charges or to testify and told the judge that she still loves him and wants to be with him.

Nothing else interesting was happening in court, so I went to the mall to get a local number for my cell phone. When I was leaving, I saw that a deep blue v-necked sweater I had really wanted to buy a few weeks ago had gone on sale. Of course I had to buy it. I'm thinking I'll wear my pointy shoes and the sweater with my pinstriped skirt suit.

I took the long way back to my car (more accurately known as my mom's car) and walked past the place my interview will take place and where two lucky recent grads will begin their corporate careers. There were tons of places for rent nearby and I couldn't help imagine my little dream life which includes that job, a darling apartment, organic groceries, yoga, fondu parties and fun nights out. Sigh. I think I'm getting a little ahead of myself.

Then I came home and the snowplower called. Apparently he was working on a road near my house and wanted me to drive over and meet him. I told him that as much fun as a date on the side of the road sounds, he needs to ask me on a proper date. Now we have tentative plans for brunch on Sunday. (This proper date/ 15 minute date is a running point of contention in our "relationship").

I continued preparing for my interview, memorizing stats about the company and trying to think of specific situations where I've handled conflict well and followed a company policy I disagreed with.

Then I came up with a great idea to make my freelancing boss happy and he loves it. He loves it so much he even used a little profanity to express himself. And because he liked the the idea so much, I started working on it and finished the project in less than an hour even though these things usually take about three hours to do. And I get paid by the job not by the time it takes to get it done, so I made a lot of money for tiny bit of fun work.

In sum, I'm having a nice day.

Another step

I have an interview! For the fantastic job!

My interview is on Thursday afternoon and the more I research I do on the organization, the more I desperately want to work there. I've been reading the annual report from 2005 and some of the stuff the company does is really neat.

I found a website with 109 commonly-asked interview questions, so I've been practicing my responses and getting all prepared.

The job hunt and related rambling

Yesterday was the last day anyone interested in the PR job I want could apply. I'm going to spend the weekend reading up on the company and preparing in case they ask me to come in for an interview.

I got a nice rejection letter in the mail from the Terry Fox Run organization. I had applied for an administration position that I knew I wasn't qualified for but was sure I'd be able to do.

My rejection letter came yesterday after my sisters and I went to a little Mary Kay makeup party. We tried on some lovely eyeshadows and sparkly lip glosses and I ended up getting a really pretty copper eyeliner. The woman who hosted the party told me I'd be "imminently qualified" to be a hostess with the company, but that's not quite what I'm looking for in a job.

In any case, it was nice to have an offer to balance out the rejection.

As an aside that's indirectly related to my working situation, the Snowplower called again yesterday (and the day before) and it seems like he remembers everything I've ever told him. We have good conversations and laugh a lot, but he still hasn't asked me on another date.

I had an epiphany last night that seems to make sense based on a few things he's said: Maybe he just doesn't want to start anything with an unemployed bum. Afterall if the situation were reversed, I wouldn't be inclined to get involved with someone who lives with his parents, stays home all the time, has no source of income and who may be more interested in my money than in me.

I know it's pathetic that I've spent enough time analyzing the situation to come up with a forgivable excuse for his behaviour, but I like him. And it seems like he might actually want to spend time with me once (/if) I get a job.

The dangerous game

You wouldn't think playing barefoot soccer with a nine year old could be a risky passtime, but if you were trying to get a goal on my little sister you would be wrong. Very wrong.

My sister is in a soccer league and has no problem head butting the ball, diving on top of it and kicking hard, no matter whose shins may be in the way.

My kicking foot is all red and puffy, my ankle hurts from when her knee dug into it and there have been a lot of furniture accidents. Despite the physical pain, the worst part of the suffering is when she beats me.

The job search, cover letters and shoes

It's been two and a half months since I had a job that lasted more than 5.5 hours. I'm running out of money, am impossibly bored and am desperate for a good/proper/real job.

On the bright side, I'm getting really good at writing cover letters.

I just found out that it's not normal to send references along with a resume, but to hold them back until the interwiew or until the employer asks for them. That seems weird to me and my resume seems lonely without them.

Also I just discovered that it's a good idea to put your contact info on both your resume and cover letter in case they get seperated.

Another thing I learned from online cover-letter writing services is that instead of saying, "I am hard-working, energetic and passionate about ____ ( a specific aspect of your company), it's better to give specific examples that prove these things.

I applied for a job in Toronto that I'm completely unqualified for and have been sending my resume out here and there to take some of the edge off the PR job I really want. Tomorrow is the last day people can apply for it and then the real worrying starts.

A friend and I went to the mall yesterday and I bought a pair of black pointy-toed office shoes after she agreed it would be impossible for an interviewer not to hire me while I'm wearing them.

A chemical mystery

I used a dark blonde dye to make my lighter hair and my darker roots blend together. I left the dye on exactly 25 minutes and had made sure the dye in the box was labelled with the same number as the picture on the box, so I was quite confused when my hair ended up almost black. It was awful.

I called Garnier to complain, but because I admitted I hadn't done a strand test before dying my hair they weren't too understanding of my mini-crisis.

The woman in customer service said somehow my hair must have just slurped up the colour and my only options were to get used to the new colour or to buy a dandruff shampoo. Apparently if you use a clear or white dandruff shampoo with no conditioner in it and leave it on dry hair for 30 minutes, it eats some of the colour off your hair.

Though I have no idea how it works, I tried it and my hair is much less detestable now. And you'll be pleased to know that I have no flakes of dead skin hanging out on my scalp.

Hiatus

Nothing is new, exciting or interesting in my life right now, hence the lack of posts lately. Excuse my current dullness. When I stop being so boring, I'll start blogging again.

Yesterday was the first day of the winter semester. Yesterday was also the day I officially withdrew from the classes I was planning to take. (Going to school was my back-up plan in case I didn't have a quality job lined up.) I know it may be foolish, but I'm putting all my hopes into the fabulous public-relations job that I'm trying to get.

I've been working on perfecting my cover letter and resume and am getting close to having everything ready.

Everytime I think about the job, my hands start to sweat.

Even though it's way too early, I can't stop planning my new life. I keep thinking about the apartment building I'll be able to live in if I get the job and what I'll wear if I get an interview.

The scale of judgment

The Snowplower called, mildly remourseful for his three-week disappearance, terrible social skills and general ineptitude for romance. Faunty thinks I shouldn't go out with him again, but I haven't made my mind up yet.

Here's my pro and con list:

Con
He's kind of a jerk (see my earlier Sucky Snowplower post).

Pro
He's really cute.


I'm torn, but it seems the pro is more important. If I do decide to go on another date with him, I'll make sure to keep it a secret from Faunty, the internet and everyone else who's heard me complain about him.

You know you're doing something stupid when everyone -- even yourself -- judges you for it.
:)

Looking up

I have a job prospect. Finally.

I don't want to jinx things, so that's all I'll say for now.

Resolutions that I most likely won't keep

1. Decide on a future.

2. Find a decent job.

3. Eat more vegetables.

4. Keep up with my physio home program and make sure my neck gets better.

5. Take my littlest sister on more dates.

6. Be nicer to someone who shall remain nameless.

7. Stop being attracted to snowplowers.

8. Paint.

9. Find an apartment.

10. Sell my car and find more environmentally-friendly transportation.

11. Look into the prospect of starting my own little guilt-free clothing store where everything is made according to fair trade standards.

12. Go to the symphony and the art gallery and the theater more often. Even if no one goes with me.

13. Keep my room cleaner.

14. Work on better posture.

15. Be happy.

Of pigs and spiders

Faunty and I took our littlest sister to see Charlotte's Web this afternoon. It was cute and she really liked it.

I liked it too, except I was disappointed with the scene when Charlotte catches a bug in her web. In the book, Charlotte says, "I don't eat them (bugs); I drink them. Drink their blood. I love blood." In the movie Charlotte is unfortunately not allowed to be quite so graphic.

My mom is cooking ham tonight and I'm curious to see if my little sister will be able to eat it. Poor little Wilber in our oven.