Tuesday, 14 December 2010
Moving On, Saving Lives, and Crying About My Wasted Youth...
Death Cab For Cutie ~ Your New Twin Sized Bed
I had the most unbelievably brilliant day today! ...
Well, it started out kinda slow and unproductive and I felt bad about not making it to the post office this morning, but there's always tomorrow. Then I made it to my appointment early, struggled to follow the instructions (bite lip and look sheepish here), but was set up to the centrifuge before I knew it. This was my first time donating plasma, and the nurse was extremely helpful, supportive and made me feel great about saving so many lives with a mere ninety minutes out of my day.
As I watched the blood flow up through the tubes and the yellow liquid flow from the centrifuge to the collection bag, I answered the nurse's questions about what I do. "I'm a writer," I said. That was the first time I could honestly say that that was how I'm making a living! She was so excited about it, and I hated to tell her that I was just starting out. I did mention that the money wasn't everything everybody hoped for...
Then I met a friend for lunch (which is becoming a common occurrence as the holidays get closer and closer). We caught up and chatted long after our food was devoured. It ended with a great conversation about vegetarianism, eating animals, making nice with family, and a short reading from Jonathon Safran Foer's book that I currently tote around with me... It felt so good to have an honest, intellectual conversation about the social dilemnas of eating (or not eating) something that you morally disagree with.
And then I made some money. It was fun! I got to hang out with some pretty awesome people and even, hopefully, made somebody else feel better about his own quarter-life crisis. On my break, I read a bit about a personal issue I'm struggling with right now, but maintained my fantastic mood all the way home. I even stopped at my favourite house to enjoy the spectacle it has become with the decorated evergreen outside. Nothing, I felt could get me down...
As I turned the corner to the street my building is on, I began to think about music as a drug. Its ability to uplift us is so powerful...as is its ability to bring us down as well.
This song came on my iPod the other night, when I was going out and stoked for what was about to happen... Then, suddenly, my pace changed...my smile disappeared as I listened to this soft tune about broken hearts.
Life is pretty amazing. We have ultimate control over how to react to a situation, and basically how to feel. Sometimes, though, it's ok to let your emotions seep into this world you want so badly to control, and just run with it. It's ok to cry about your past even when you're so excited about your future... And Death Cab is probably the best band to cry to when you need to.
Still...I had an AMAZING day...and can't wait to do it all over again - everything! ;-)
Monday, 13 December 2010
2010 - Watershed Year
Mantras, meditation, visualization, confidence, mind over matter, the power of your subconscious mind...
2010 is a watershed year for me. This is the year that I learned how to create my own success. It began with my mom suggesting I read a book of hers. She told me that it hadn't been completely successful for her, but she would return to it frequently and found that when she did, things began to improve once again. Having nothing to lose and everything to gain, I picked it up...and it began to transform my life.
Everything in it finally made sense. My spirit was ready to accept what the book had to offer as truth. I was ready to begin to change my life. I just had to put in the hard work in order to get there.
It began with weight loss. For over half of my life, I have tried to lose weight. I have never focussed on it before, but always wished I could do it. Of course, there were always more excuses than reasons to do it, which is always the path to failure. This spring, though, I was ready for it. And my journey downwards (weight-wise) began. My confidence began to grow as a result, and I have a pretty solid appreciation for the body I have now, as much as it may change for the rest of my life.
The next step was living on my own. It happened almost accidentally, but it's been a plan for the last three years. I will never regret the nearly two years before getting my first "apartment of my own," when I was living with my sisters. It was an opportunity that all three of us embraced as such. How many people get to call their siblings "roommates" after the age of 18? Or, even after each have lived on their own. I always thought of it as the perfect moment in all three of our lives to do so, and with one of my sisters getting married next year, I am that much more grateful for the hours, days, weeks, months and year and a half that we spent together. And that's even after all the fighting, meddling, jealousy, misunderstandings and weeks of not talking to one another. If given an option to repeat life, I would do it all over again. This year, I learned to love my family - not because I had to, but because they're pretty awesome people.
It seems like in an instant I became a professional, but I know there was much more time invested in that change this year. And, career-wise, I feel like I'm starting at the bottom - again - right now. I've learned to listen to the universe as far as that goes, though. The universe has led me to make some pretty shocking choices this year - moving up in a company I wanted out of, moving across town to fulfill that position, lying to myself about wanting to stay with the company to the extent that I forgot exactly the reason why I was put on this planet, waking up to that realization and quitting - almost abruptly - but at just the right time, going back to a company that I had been so angry with when I left, and making money on my own (which is the best thing I have ever done!) - and for that, I am eternally grateful to the universe.
I don't know what I'll be doing next year. Heck, I don't even know for sure what I'll be doing next week. And part of that REALLY terrifies me, but the other part makes me so excited. The best things in my life have been completely unplanned. The most fulfilling things in my life, have taken focus, determination, and hard work - and I'm finally ready to do that. So, finances will come, health will come, but my happiness will always be around...
Now, here I sit, typing away at a computer that I bought over three years ago to do something that I knew I would do for a living since I was eleven - write - but that I have never made enough time for until now. Sometimes what comes out is terrible; other times it is brilliant. The important thing is that I AM WRITING! And, above everything else positive that has happened this year, that is what I am most proud of!
2010 is a watershed year for me. This is the year that I learned how to create my own success. It began with my mom suggesting I read a book of hers. She told me that it hadn't been completely successful for her, but she would return to it frequently and found that when she did, things began to improve once again. Having nothing to lose and everything to gain, I picked it up...and it began to transform my life.
Everything in it finally made sense. My spirit was ready to accept what the book had to offer as truth. I was ready to begin to change my life. I just had to put in the hard work in order to get there.
It began with weight loss. For over half of my life, I have tried to lose weight. I have never focussed on it before, but always wished I could do it. Of course, there were always more excuses than reasons to do it, which is always the path to failure. This spring, though, I was ready for it. And my journey downwards (weight-wise) began. My confidence began to grow as a result, and I have a pretty solid appreciation for the body I have now, as much as it may change for the rest of my life.
The next step was living on my own. It happened almost accidentally, but it's been a plan for the last three years. I will never regret the nearly two years before getting my first "apartment of my own," when I was living with my sisters. It was an opportunity that all three of us embraced as such. How many people get to call their siblings "roommates" after the age of 18? Or, even after each have lived on their own. I always thought of it as the perfect moment in all three of our lives to do so, and with one of my sisters getting married next year, I am that much more grateful for the hours, days, weeks, months and year and a half that we spent together. And that's even after all the fighting, meddling, jealousy, misunderstandings and weeks of not talking to one another. If given an option to repeat life, I would do it all over again. This year, I learned to love my family - not because I had to, but because they're pretty awesome people.
It seems like in an instant I became a professional, but I know there was much more time invested in that change this year. And, career-wise, I feel like I'm starting at the bottom - again - right now. I've learned to listen to the universe as far as that goes, though. The universe has led me to make some pretty shocking choices this year - moving up in a company I wanted out of, moving across town to fulfill that position, lying to myself about wanting to stay with the company to the extent that I forgot exactly the reason why I was put on this planet, waking up to that realization and quitting - almost abruptly - but at just the right time, going back to a company that I had been so angry with when I left, and making money on my own (which is the best thing I have ever done!) - and for that, I am eternally grateful to the universe.
I don't know what I'll be doing next year. Heck, I don't even know for sure what I'll be doing next week. And part of that REALLY terrifies me, but the other part makes me so excited. The best things in my life have been completely unplanned. The most fulfilling things in my life, have taken focus, determination, and hard work - and I'm finally ready to do that. So, finances will come, health will come, but my happiness will always be around...
Now, here I sit, typing away at a computer that I bought over three years ago to do something that I knew I would do for a living since I was eleven - write - but that I have never made enough time for until now. Sometimes what comes out is terrible; other times it is brilliant. The important thing is that I AM WRITING! And, above everything else positive that has happened this year, that is what I am most proud of!
Breaking Hearts
With red eyes, she quietly whispered confessions of a broken heart.
Part of 'figuring this whole thing out' is getting your heart stomped on a few times. This process does not always require the involvement of other people, but the healing process normally involves blaming them...
"you give until you've given up and you are sure to find the perfect man"
A few nights ago I was talking about my romantic past. "I've had my heart broken a few times," I admitted, "but I've never broken anybody's heart." The statement rolled out of my head, as many statements do, before I had ever consciously conceived the idea. And so began me analysis of it.
Have I really never broken somebody's heart? The first few times my heart was broken, I know that I was hurt while the other parties were left unharmed. I was young, and naive - without a layer of ice permanently surrounding my emotional centre. Like tumble weeds, those people blew out of my life, and I eventually got over it. But then came the bigger breaks...
The first time I may have broken somebody's heart is something I have refused to take ownership of. I was older, but no less naive...and my innocence hurt me more than he led on it hurting him. When it ended, I was sick, both physically and emotionally, and I've always blamed him for that. I've only recently began to forgive him for everything that's happened. And taken some responsibility for creating an environment where I could get hurt. The strangest thing is that we've both left a channel open for forgiveness to flow through. Which makes me wonder about his emotions...
I thrive on analyzing relationships, the behaviour of my peers and even their emotions. It fascinates me, and I also feel I have a lot to learn from others. Educated as a social scientist, I will never be able to turn the analysis off. A colleague told me the other day that the analysis makes life worse for me. Analyzing these things keeps it ever-present in my mind, which inevitably leads to me being attached and getting hurt.
This video is truly incredible and worth watching. If the video isn't working, go here:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=wigqKfLWjvM
The last time my heart was broken, I was told to sever all ties with the individual involved in the breaking of it. "Don't agree to be friends," my good friend instructed me, "because no matter what happens, you'll always have this hope that the friendship will become something more than that." That hope, as I have learned, is toxic. Logically, it makes sense that this hope runs both ways. If I cling to a friendship wishing that it might one day become more than that, does it not make sense that the other individual is doing the same? Likewise, if I cling to the friendship because the hope of it makes the pain of the heartbreak less severe, could he not be suffering from the same pain?
Somewhere, somehow, Greg Bernhardt and many other romantic advisors to women are clasping their heads in agony. Has my broken heart - now mended and encased in ice for safe protection - still managed to turn me into a desperate woman looking for a man to love? Or, is it worse than that? Has my ego created this person who thinks her strength of love demands to be returned? Or, merely, have I become sympathetic enough to realize that those "jerks" out there who break my heart have feelings of their own?
This morning I woke up looking into the amber eyes of a male who will never break my heart. Well, at least until he passes away, which is merely a fact of life. It's the best relationship I've ever had, and it will last the length of his life. Not all love is romantic in nature. It's a bit like being a mother... In fact, I've been his surrogate mother since the day we met - and there's no Oedipal complex with that. We fight, we play, I care for him and he cuddles with me when I'm mending my broken heart. Maybe I am "that" lady, but it's ok. I have a lot of love to give...and Jito soaks all of it up, when he wants to.
And that may be the greatest lesson of love out there. You can't force it. Even when you find it, you can't cling to it. You can't control the breaking of a heart - whether it's yours or anybody else's. The only thing you ever control is yourself...and how you mend your emotional wounds...
Part of 'figuring this whole thing out' is getting your heart stomped on a few times. This process does not always require the involvement of other people, but the healing process normally involves blaming them...
"you give until you've given up and you are sure to find the perfect man"
A few nights ago I was talking about my romantic past. "I've had my heart broken a few times," I admitted, "but I've never broken anybody's heart." The statement rolled out of my head, as many statements do, before I had ever consciously conceived the idea. And so began me analysis of it.
Have I really never broken somebody's heart? The first few times my heart was broken, I know that I was hurt while the other parties were left unharmed. I was young, and naive - without a layer of ice permanently surrounding my emotional centre. Like tumble weeds, those people blew out of my life, and I eventually got over it. But then came the bigger breaks...
The first time I may have broken somebody's heart is something I have refused to take ownership of. I was older, but no less naive...and my innocence hurt me more than he led on it hurting him. When it ended, I was sick, both physically and emotionally, and I've always blamed him for that. I've only recently began to forgive him for everything that's happened. And taken some responsibility for creating an environment where I could get hurt. The strangest thing is that we've both left a channel open for forgiveness to flow through. Which makes me wonder about his emotions...
I thrive on analyzing relationships, the behaviour of my peers and even their emotions. It fascinates me, and I also feel I have a lot to learn from others. Educated as a social scientist, I will never be able to turn the analysis off. A colleague told me the other day that the analysis makes life worse for me. Analyzing these things keeps it ever-present in my mind, which inevitably leads to me being attached and getting hurt.
This video is truly incredible and worth watching. If the video isn't working, go here:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=wigqKfLWjvM
The last time my heart was broken, I was told to sever all ties with the individual involved in the breaking of it. "Don't agree to be friends," my good friend instructed me, "because no matter what happens, you'll always have this hope that the friendship will become something more than that." That hope, as I have learned, is toxic. Logically, it makes sense that this hope runs both ways. If I cling to a friendship wishing that it might one day become more than that, does it not make sense that the other individual is doing the same? Likewise, if I cling to the friendship because the hope of it makes the pain of the heartbreak less severe, could he not be suffering from the same pain?
Somewhere, somehow, Greg Bernhardt and many other romantic advisors to women are clasping their heads in agony. Has my broken heart - now mended and encased in ice for safe protection - still managed to turn me into a desperate woman looking for a man to love? Or, is it worse than that? Has my ego created this person who thinks her strength of love demands to be returned? Or, merely, have I become sympathetic enough to realize that those "jerks" out there who break my heart have feelings of their own?
This morning I woke up looking into the amber eyes of a male who will never break my heart. Well, at least until he passes away, which is merely a fact of life. It's the best relationship I've ever had, and it will last the length of his life. Not all love is romantic in nature. It's a bit like being a mother... In fact, I've been his surrogate mother since the day we met - and there's no Oedipal complex with that. We fight, we play, I care for him and he cuddles with me when I'm mending my broken heart. Maybe I am "that" lady, but it's ok. I have a lot of love to give...and Jito soaks all of it up, when he wants to.
And that may be the greatest lesson of love out there. You can't force it. Even when you find it, you can't cling to it. You can't control the breaking of a heart - whether it's yours or anybody else's. The only thing you ever control is yourself...and how you mend your emotional wounds...
Wednesday, 8 December 2010
Changing Education Paradigms - RSA Animate
A friend shared this on my Facebook wall a few days ago. It took me those few days to view it, but I'm glad it did. I really like the concept of shifting paradigms. In so far as changing the world, I think it needs to happen...however, I am definitely more of an advocate of slow changes over time. Yes, the paradigm will shift, but it might take ten years to do so...and that's okay.
This is a long video, but you should still enjoy!
Friday, 3 December 2010
The Most Influential Person Of Them All...
"You are your own worst enemy..." - circa 2002
Not many people would hold on to those words for over eight years, but I have. Well, to be fair, I've kept the card they're written on in a shoebox for eight years, so it's been fairly easy to hold on to those words of advice.
"Advice?" you might shudder to think that those are words of advice.
To most people, advice should be encouraging. It should be positive. Perhaps advice should only be constructive rather than critical. I am usually one of those people. The person who gave me this card, though, knew that those words were exactly what I needed to hear.
It wasn't what I was expecting. The most profound things in our life are those least expected. It was the most honest thing anybody had ever told me up until that time...
I was a timid, young girl, as most aspiring writers would describe themselves. I was smart, though, and knew it from the beginning. Growing up in a small town, I was easily top of the class...and that's how I made a name for myself. Well, that and being a goodie-two-shoes fat-kid who read under the tree at lunch rather than gossiping about boys on the swings. There were 200 students in a school for children in Kindergarten to Grade 12 - and that included families from three different communities! We were rural kids, endlessly jealous of those city kids we watched on television, but deftly aware of the ENTIRE lives of the kids we had grown up with since Kindergarten.
As I matured, I yearned to be more than that. I took on leadership roles in the small town - fascilitating games of Frozen Soccer (how else do you play in a large field of snow in -30?), Red Rover, and Monster Mash with the younger kids - and it made me feel so much more valuable to my community. When we moved to a larger town, I had already understood that if I was going to be happy, I had to be leading something.
It took me a few years to strive for leadership in the new town. Being a smart kid, this time, worked to my disadvantage. For some reason - and perhaps one day somebody will explain this to me in a way that actually makes sence - the teachers assumed that because I couldn't play a musical instrument I couldn't get more than 85 on an exam or assignment. Strange, really, as I had never gotten below a 90 before...but numbers meant nothing, in the long run. The thirty other "non-band" students in my class, knew I was the "smart kid," even if the teachers missed it my first year there. Needless to say, my three-month initiation into the community did not make me want to feel valuable in that community.
And then high school came! I loved high school...well, until it was time to be over. Haven't really missed it yet, but it was a great time in my development. I continued on the track to leadership I had earlier carved out for myself and became a celebrity in our small city. Looking back, it was kinda neat to have strangers come up to me in the halls and act like we were best friends. And, the acting skills I developed in reacting to them like we were best friends has served me well working in the service industry. It's not being fake, it's being interested in other people. turns out, that's the secret to politics AND business...
So, how was I my worst enemy? Here I was, excelling in my classes again, maintaining a leadership position in the numerous extra-curricular activities I had picked up, and even finding time to work twenty hours a week at a part time job...where I was the youngest supervisor they had ever employed. Wasn't I doing everything right? Wasn't setting such high expectations for myself a good thing? Look at where it had got me. Look at how many people liked me...or, well, at least knew who I was. People who knew me liked me, didn't they? Well, and if they didn't, I didn't need to like them...this is the time of individuality! I can be whoever I want and it doesn't really matter who likes me....but they like me, right?
And that was it.
This card came my way as the best teacher I ever had left the small town. She was a liberal spitfire in that school and she had created so much there while she was there. But the best thing was that she could look at somebody, at sixteen years of age, and know not only what was bubbling under the surface at that time, but what would come up again and again and again in that person's life. And she had the guts to be so honest in her farewell card to me.
I thought I'd keep in touch....I tried to remember to email her, or even send her a Christmas card. I didn't. I don't even know how long she stayed in Saskatoon after moving there. Her kids should be in high school by now. I hope she's still teaching. Our world will be a better place if she's still teaching. I do remember to ask younger adults who've come from her school in Saskatoon if they ever had her. They probably wouldn't know her the same way I did. They might even have called her hard ass. A lot of people didn't like her honesty. But I did...but, whatever, I was a goodie-two-shoes...
It's funny, I can't find that card today. But those words have been reverberating in my head for the last month. Well, not those exact words, but their sentiment. Then, yesterday, chatting with a friend online, I explained how my fear is keeping me from working. "Fear of failure?" he asked. "No," I typed, "fear of success..." Several weeks ago, a friend of mine told me about a license plate she had seen: Get Out Of Your Way.
It's right; Ms. James was right; the universe is right...
I should let myself succeed...
Not many people would hold on to those words for over eight years, but I have. Well, to be fair, I've kept the card they're written on in a shoebox for eight years, so it's been fairly easy to hold on to those words of advice.
"Advice?" you might shudder to think that those are words of advice.
To most people, advice should be encouraging. It should be positive. Perhaps advice should only be constructive rather than critical. I am usually one of those people. The person who gave me this card, though, knew that those words were exactly what I needed to hear.
It wasn't what I was expecting. The most profound things in our life are those least expected. It was the most honest thing anybody had ever told me up until that time...
I was a timid, young girl, as most aspiring writers would describe themselves. I was smart, though, and knew it from the beginning. Growing up in a small town, I was easily top of the class...and that's how I made a name for myself. Well, that and being a goodie-two-shoes fat-kid who read under the tree at lunch rather than gossiping about boys on the swings. There were 200 students in a school for children in Kindergarten to Grade 12 - and that included families from three different communities! We were rural kids, endlessly jealous of those city kids we watched on television, but deftly aware of the ENTIRE lives of the kids we had grown up with since Kindergarten.
As I matured, I yearned to be more than that. I took on leadership roles in the small town - fascilitating games of Frozen Soccer (how else do you play in a large field of snow in -30?), Red Rover, and Monster Mash with the younger kids - and it made me feel so much more valuable to my community. When we moved to a larger town, I had already understood that if I was going to be happy, I had to be leading something.
It took me a few years to strive for leadership in the new town. Being a smart kid, this time, worked to my disadvantage. For some reason - and perhaps one day somebody will explain this to me in a way that actually makes sence - the teachers assumed that because I couldn't play a musical instrument I couldn't get more than 85 on an exam or assignment. Strange, really, as I had never gotten below a 90 before...but numbers meant nothing, in the long run. The thirty other "non-band" students in my class, knew I was the "smart kid," even if the teachers missed it my first year there. Needless to say, my three-month initiation into the community did not make me want to feel valuable in that community.
And then high school came! I loved high school...well, until it was time to be over. Haven't really missed it yet, but it was a great time in my development. I continued on the track to leadership I had earlier carved out for myself and became a celebrity in our small city. Looking back, it was kinda neat to have strangers come up to me in the halls and act like we were best friends. And, the acting skills I developed in reacting to them like we were best friends has served me well working in the service industry. It's not being fake, it's being interested in other people. turns out, that's the secret to politics AND business...
So, how was I my worst enemy? Here I was, excelling in my classes again, maintaining a leadership position in the numerous extra-curricular activities I had picked up, and even finding time to work twenty hours a week at a part time job...where I was the youngest supervisor they had ever employed. Wasn't I doing everything right? Wasn't setting such high expectations for myself a good thing? Look at where it had got me. Look at how many people liked me...or, well, at least knew who I was. People who knew me liked me, didn't they? Well, and if they didn't, I didn't need to like them...this is the time of individuality! I can be whoever I want and it doesn't really matter who likes me....but they like me, right?
And that was it.
This card came my way as the best teacher I ever had left the small town. She was a liberal spitfire in that school and she had created so much there while she was there. But the best thing was that she could look at somebody, at sixteen years of age, and know not only what was bubbling under the surface at that time, but what would come up again and again and again in that person's life. And she had the guts to be so honest in her farewell card to me.
I thought I'd keep in touch....I tried to remember to email her, or even send her a Christmas card. I didn't. I don't even know how long she stayed in Saskatoon after moving there. Her kids should be in high school by now. I hope she's still teaching. Our world will be a better place if she's still teaching. I do remember to ask younger adults who've come from her school in Saskatoon if they ever had her. They probably wouldn't know her the same way I did. They might even have called her hard ass. A lot of people didn't like her honesty. But I did...but, whatever, I was a goodie-two-shoes...
It's funny, I can't find that card today. But those words have been reverberating in my head for the last month. Well, not those exact words, but their sentiment. Then, yesterday, chatting with a friend online, I explained how my fear is keeping me from working. "Fear of failure?" he asked. "No," I typed, "fear of success..." Several weeks ago, a friend of mine told me about a license plate she had seen: Get Out Of Your Way.
It's right; Ms. James was right; the universe is right...
I should let myself succeed...
Thursday, 25 November 2010
The "Other" Family
It seems that every fall I have the splendid opportunity to reconnect with old friends from university. Okay, well, maybe just the last two falls...and the fall before that was only my second fall out of university, so there was very little reconnection required. Alas, I like this new trend and hope that it continues into 2011.
The most rewarding aspect of these reconnections is that I am provided with the opportunity to reflect on a skill I finally mastered towards the end of university. Hmmm...well, the skill may not yet be mastered, but it was definitely acquired in university. This skill is invaluable to me, wherever I go from now, and probably something some people take for granted. I'm talking, of course, about the ability to create support networks out of complete strangers.
I remember how I met very few people in my life. The people that I do remember meeting, I will never forget because they have come to mean a lot to me. For instance, I remember the day I sat down beside Heidi in our Anthropology class. I had made it a rule to talk to at least one person in each of my classes in university, even if it made me uncomfortable to do so. To cope with this uncomfortability, I tried to pick people who appeared friendly and were not already talking to somebody else. (I've always been better at one-on-one conversations over group discussions, at least when talking is involved.) Heidi fit both of those traits, so I struck up a conversation with her.
I don't remember all of the details of that conversation, but it began a beautiful friendship. Our time in the same city was short-lived, but our friendship has proven anything but that. When she left, we both promised to keep in touch...but we both go months (or once even a year) without an email, wall post, or a good old-fashioned phone call. Regardless of our time apart, when we do reconnect, it's like no time has passed. Our friendship stands as an example that true friends know not distance nor time but one another. Or something else whimsical like that...
Reconnecting with Heidi last November started my annual tradition of uni-reunions. It was a remarkable reminder of the friendship's ability to remain the same without extensive work. This fall, with the big 2-5 approaching, I planned my trip a bit earlier, but it has continued for the last two months!
In September, I flew out to Vancouver for a mini-Honours get-together. I kept hearing about these get-togethers in Vancouver, and felt slightly left out. This one made up for it, though. I arrived on a Sunday, and that night we hit the town, SATC-style. Sushi was eaten, girly drinks were shared, four delectable desserts were devoured, and gossip was shared! Three years had passed since the four of us had been together, and everything seemed different. Everything that is, except our friendship!
Some friends have been besties since birth; some since kindergarten; even more from high school. I have wanted a best friend since birth, kindergarten, and even in high school. That was when I gave up on the idea of just one best friend. I have very high expectations of people, and one can only imagine that wanting something as badly as I wanted a best friend only increased the expectations I put on whoever was closest to being my best friend at any given time. Don't worry, I still cherish the good times we had together growing up, but I know that I never really understood what a best friend was until university. And then, suddenly, I created several of them. That's why i now relish the fact that I get to reunite with these people once a year!
I wish that I could explain to you how I did it. Just last night, I was watching The Big Bang Theory on DVD and came across the episode where Sheldon discovers the algorithm for creating a friendship. Not best friendship, but friendship. Now, if I could tell you how to do that, I would sell millions of books and how-to videos and be world-renowned, I'm sure. Sadly, that best frienship wouldn't be worth it. The beauty of best friendship, I've found, is that it's inexplicable and random. It's a little bit like true love. You can't plan it or manipulate the other person to get it; you just have to let it happen, and be satisfied with the results.
My ability to find best friends has not faded away. I continue to find people that allow me to be myself. These are people I can count on to be there for me when I need them. They have become my secondary family when my family isn't there (like uni or England), or a sounding board when I'm having difficulties with my biological family (although rare, it happens to everybody). And it makes me feel safe and secure knowing that I have the ability to create this kind of a support network wherever I go. Sometimes it can happen in a few days, like when I was travelling in Morocco; sometimes it takes a few years, like Edmonton. Eventually, though, I know, I'll have a support network all over the world...but then, I'll probably be strong enough on my own to not have to lean on anybody (NOTE: sarcasm!)
My reunion d'automne 2010 continues. Just over a week ago, I saw two of the three friends I met up with in Vancouver. One was in Edmonton, visiting her bf and I stopped in on the other in Saskatoon, while I was visiting more family. Both visits were a necessary bookend to the personal growth that began on my trip to Vancouver. But that's a topic for another post... I'm just glad I have such great best friends to help me out when life seems just a little bit tougher than usual. Thanks to all of you! :-D
The most rewarding aspect of these reconnections is that I am provided with the opportunity to reflect on a skill I finally mastered towards the end of university. Hmmm...well, the skill may not yet be mastered, but it was definitely acquired in university. This skill is invaluable to me, wherever I go from now, and probably something some people take for granted. I'm talking, of course, about the ability to create support networks out of complete strangers.
I remember how I met very few people in my life. The people that I do remember meeting, I will never forget because they have come to mean a lot to me. For instance, I remember the day I sat down beside Heidi in our Anthropology class. I had made it a rule to talk to at least one person in each of my classes in university, even if it made me uncomfortable to do so. To cope with this uncomfortability, I tried to pick people who appeared friendly and were not already talking to somebody else. (I've always been better at one-on-one conversations over group discussions, at least when talking is involved.) Heidi fit both of those traits, so I struck up a conversation with her.
I don't remember all of the details of that conversation, but it began a beautiful friendship. Our time in the same city was short-lived, but our friendship has proven anything but that. When she left, we both promised to keep in touch...but we both go months (or once even a year) without an email, wall post, or a good old-fashioned phone call. Regardless of our time apart, when we do reconnect, it's like no time has passed. Our friendship stands as an example that true friends know not distance nor time but one another. Or something else whimsical like that...
Reconnecting with Heidi last November started my annual tradition of uni-reunions. It was a remarkable reminder of the friendship's ability to remain the same without extensive work. This fall, with the big 2-5 approaching, I planned my trip a bit earlier, but it has continued for the last two months!
In September, I flew out to Vancouver for a mini-Honours get-together. I kept hearing about these get-togethers in Vancouver, and felt slightly left out. This one made up for it, though. I arrived on a Sunday, and that night we hit the town, SATC-style. Sushi was eaten, girly drinks were shared, four delectable desserts were devoured, and gossip was shared! Three years had passed since the four of us had been together, and everything seemed different. Everything that is, except our friendship!
Some friends have been besties since birth; some since kindergarten; even more from high school. I have wanted a best friend since birth, kindergarten, and even in high school. That was when I gave up on the idea of just one best friend. I have very high expectations of people, and one can only imagine that wanting something as badly as I wanted a best friend only increased the expectations I put on whoever was closest to being my best friend at any given time. Don't worry, I still cherish the good times we had together growing up, but I know that I never really understood what a best friend was until university. And then, suddenly, I created several of them. That's why i now relish the fact that I get to reunite with these people once a year!
I wish that I could explain to you how I did it. Just last night, I was watching The Big Bang Theory on DVD and came across the episode where Sheldon discovers the algorithm for creating a friendship. Not best friendship, but friendship. Now, if I could tell you how to do that, I would sell millions of books and how-to videos and be world-renowned, I'm sure. Sadly, that best frienship wouldn't be worth it. The beauty of best friendship, I've found, is that it's inexplicable and random. It's a little bit like true love. You can't plan it or manipulate the other person to get it; you just have to let it happen, and be satisfied with the results.
My ability to find best friends has not faded away. I continue to find people that allow me to be myself. These are people I can count on to be there for me when I need them. They have become my secondary family when my family isn't there (like uni or England), or a sounding board when I'm having difficulties with my biological family (although rare, it happens to everybody). And it makes me feel safe and secure knowing that I have the ability to create this kind of a support network wherever I go. Sometimes it can happen in a few days, like when I was travelling in Morocco; sometimes it takes a few years, like Edmonton. Eventually, though, I know, I'll have a support network all over the world...but then, I'll probably be strong enough on my own to not have to lean on anybody (NOTE: sarcasm!)
My reunion d'automne 2010 continues. Just over a week ago, I saw two of the three friends I met up with in Vancouver. One was in Edmonton, visiting her bf and I stopped in on the other in Saskatoon, while I was visiting more family. Both visits were a necessary bookend to the personal growth that began on my trip to Vancouver. But that's a topic for another post... I'm just glad I have such great best friends to help me out when life seems just a little bit tougher than usual. Thanks to all of you! :-D
Thursday, 18 November 2010
The Fence Sitter
"I sit on the fence so much somedays that my ass cheeks have dents in them..."
I wrote this in an email, meaning it as a criticism of myself. Having thoroughly enjoyed the phrasing of it, I have stored it in the back of mind ever since. The thought reappeared the other night and I ruminated on it, understanding this time that it is not necessarily a bad thing to do.
The discussion turned to the dairy industry, and my one rant against a barista at a cafe that will remain nameless. I was angered by the fact that I was being charged an extra fifty cents for the substitution of soy for my dairy in the drink. His comment was that soy was more expensive. My retort was that not really, it's just not helped out by government subsidies: a claim that, truthfully, I have no proof of, but I spoke as if I did. (As a sidenote, this is, of course, how many ranters irritate me into not listening to them, if I don't like what I'm hearing.) I left the cafe that day feeling a bit ashamed of myself. That, I remember thinking, is not how I want to win this war. I do not like confrontations.
After sharing the first half of the above story with a fellow vegan, I was corrected. The dairy industry doesn't get money directly from the government, she pointed out, and I shut down. I back-pedalled slightly, but still pointed out that milk does not cost what it actually costs to produce it. And, actually, soy probably doesn't any more, either; even it is probably a victim to subsidies now, too, but I haven't researched that. I dropped the argument - which is more important to the point at hand - because I don't like confrontations. As much as an activist as I probably always will be, I hate to tell somebody that I disagree with them...and so I am a fence sitter.
But, that's not a bad thing. I don't think that the argument will actually be won through confrontations. This is not a civil war, this is a change in ideology. And, like success, the best changes are the ones that take longer to come. I believe that, in the long haul, Grass Roots projects are more effective than corporate marketting, and change from within will last longer than change from without. And, so, it's a good thing that I sit on the fence, looking at both sides, trying to mediate between the two.
Perhaps, though, I should gain more of a backbone to my arguments... That will come, ... when I'm ready to be a stubborn ox.
Alas, that is not me. I am change. I do not wish to wake up suddenly one day and say, "that's me. That's who I am." And from that moment on, stop questioning myself, pushing myself forward, reflecting on both sides of the argument to get a deeper understanding of the world. When we stop changing, we stop growing. Life is not about 'finding' ourselves, but CREATING ourselves. So, I sit on the fence so that I can use parts from both sides to be the person that I am at this time.
This song came on while these thoughts were uploading from my mind to the computer. I found it fitting, if you don't, keep reading. One day, you'll understand enough of who I am to understand why Corb Lund is appropriate for my rant on Fence Sitting...
Corb Lund - This Is My Prairie
I wrote this in an email, meaning it as a criticism of myself. Having thoroughly enjoyed the phrasing of it, I have stored it in the back of mind ever since. The thought reappeared the other night and I ruminated on it, understanding this time that it is not necessarily a bad thing to do.
The discussion turned to the dairy industry, and my one rant against a barista at a cafe that will remain nameless. I was angered by the fact that I was being charged an extra fifty cents for the substitution of soy for my dairy in the drink. His comment was that soy was more expensive. My retort was that not really, it's just not helped out by government subsidies: a claim that, truthfully, I have no proof of, but I spoke as if I did. (As a sidenote, this is, of course, how many ranters irritate me into not listening to them, if I don't like what I'm hearing.) I left the cafe that day feeling a bit ashamed of myself. That, I remember thinking, is not how I want to win this war. I do not like confrontations.
After sharing the first half of the above story with a fellow vegan, I was corrected. The dairy industry doesn't get money directly from the government, she pointed out, and I shut down. I back-pedalled slightly, but still pointed out that milk does not cost what it actually costs to produce it. And, actually, soy probably doesn't any more, either; even it is probably a victim to subsidies now, too, but I haven't researched that. I dropped the argument - which is more important to the point at hand - because I don't like confrontations. As much as an activist as I probably always will be, I hate to tell somebody that I disagree with them...and so I am a fence sitter.
But, that's not a bad thing. I don't think that the argument will actually be won through confrontations. This is not a civil war, this is a change in ideology. And, like success, the best changes are the ones that take longer to come. I believe that, in the long haul, Grass Roots projects are more effective than corporate marketting, and change from within will last longer than change from without. And, so, it's a good thing that I sit on the fence, looking at both sides, trying to mediate between the two.
Perhaps, though, I should gain more of a backbone to my arguments... That will come, ... when I'm ready to be a stubborn ox.
Alas, that is not me. I am change. I do not wish to wake up suddenly one day and say, "that's me. That's who I am." And from that moment on, stop questioning myself, pushing myself forward, reflecting on both sides of the argument to get a deeper understanding of the world. When we stop changing, we stop growing. Life is not about 'finding' ourselves, but CREATING ourselves. So, I sit on the fence so that I can use parts from both sides to be the person that I am at this time.
This song came on while these thoughts were uploading from my mind to the computer. I found it fitting, if you don't, keep reading. One day, you'll understand enough of who I am to understand why Corb Lund is appropriate for my rant on Fence Sitting...
Corb Lund - This Is My Prairie
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