Thursday, January 19, 2012


Thursday, January 19, 2012
I had to shoot a promo spot for a local TV station today. I had one line in this 10-second spot, and I'm proud to say I hit it on every take. That's right, I'm a genius and obviously I'm headed straight for a big-time telebroadcasting career. Do they still say telebroadcasting? I should know this. I work in media relations.

I wore my lucky brooch, the one my Grandma Olga gave me. I wear it every time I have to go on TV, when I have more than 10 minutes of advance notice. Luckily today was one of those days where I knew about the spot in advance, otherwise, I would have gone on-air in fleece pants and a really sad half-ponytail.

See? I clean up pretty nicely.

No one has ever noticed that I always wear this brooch on TV days. I think that means no one ever sees me on TV, which is likely for the best. I am roughly 3 times the size of all the female television personalities in Calgary. One never wants to slouch on television, but dude, there's like 9 inches of height difference between the interviewer and myself.

In other news, if you've ever wondered what kind of art graces the staff bathrooms at my illustrious museum workplace, it's this. After two years of pee breaks, I've pretty much memorized every single detail of this poster.

Also, people give you weird looks when you carry your blackberry into the bathroom at work, just fyi.

Wednesday, January 18, 2012


Wednesday, January 18, 2012
This morning, standing outside on the cold sidewalk, waiting for the ever-loving bus to arrive, I marvelled at the notion that we're almost three weeks into the year.

On one hand: ALREADY? Where did the time go? What have I done to show for it?

On the other hand: oh my god, it's only been two and a half weeks since the holidays? I feel like crying. And dying. I need another vacation, stat, and Family Day Weekend is still over a month away.

Gary's really big on resolutions and goals and all that stuff. I'll admit that I'm feeling kind of lost this year. 2012 is a big one. We're getting married. I'm changing my last name. We're renovating our condo. We want to start a family, and sooner rather than later - but possibly not this year. I'm turning 28, which was kind of the year in my head where I guess I'd have it all figured out.

On paper I do have it figured out. See above paragraph. But in my head? Oh, not so much.

I understand now why people set goals at the beginning of January. It's not just the metaphorical clean sheet of life - it's because it's really dang hard to make it through January without a real sense of purpose.

When Gary asked me what my resolutions were, the look of expectation and anticipation and straight-up-pure-joy (seriously, the man loves setting and realizing goals. It's what drives him!) made me feel somewhat guilty, so I muttered something about losing weight and eating more vegetarian food and finishing revisions on my novel and getting it ready to submit for publication.

And then I promptly forgot that I said I was going to do those things and kept eating cheesies and surfing the internet.

But now I've realized that not putting any actual, measurable, specific goals down on paper has kind of screwed me over, and I've drifted through the last three weeks without really knowing what the eff was going on. I've watched Gary head to the gym while I head to the cough meds and the couch. I've aimlessly opened, then closed, then opened again the manuscript file on my computer. And I've made a few lists of things we have to do in advance of the wedding and then lost them.

I need some direction. Anyone else out there with me? Is it too late? Can I make January 21st Resolutions?

Tuesday, January 03, 2012

The Nightmares

Tuesday, January 03, 2012
I am a very vivid dreamer. I talk in my sleep, I scream in my sleep, I flail about and have such incredibly realistic, vivid, outrageous dreams that sometimes, it feels like I actually didn't sleep at all. I wake up exhausted more often than not. I blame my overactive imagination that will one day lead me to writing a series of bestselling novels.

This isn't a new phenomenon, but lately - as in, since Christmas - I've noticed a common theme. Gone are the dreams about eating onion rings with sparkly vampire boyfriends from the TV and solving murder mystery crimes with Robert Downey Junior while my teeth fall out in the car that's parked in front of my friend Amanda's house. All of my wacky, unsettling dreams seem to have one common theme:

Things That Will go Horribly Horribly Wrong at Our Wedding.

I'm up to a handful of dreams about walking down the aisle with a wrinkled, dirty dress and veil. I've dreamed about one certain witchy girl I went to High School with showing up with her stupid smug face in a wedding gown and attempting to underhandedly replace me in the starring role of Bride by resetting the clocks in my house and then shoving me in a broom closet.

But mostly, I've had several really awful dreams about my hair. Bad hair. Poodle hair. We've all decided to wear our hair in topsy-tailed ponies. I've shaved half of my head. I've cut it into the Beiber 'Do I was rocking in March. It's all fallen out. I walk down the aisle with it soaking wet. I've run the gamut of bad hair wedding dreams, and frankly, it's freaking me out.

But I have come to a conclusion.

Apparently, what I'm telling myself when I'm totally unawares, is that I should manage my expectations. I'll get down that aisle, damn it, wrinkled dress or smug faced cheating bride impostors aside. This is me we're talking about - I wouldn't be surprised if on that day, I ended up with a mysterious yogurt stain somewhere on the train of that gown (that may or may not have a train, Gary nevermind that last sentence). But these things, they are not important. I will learn to be zen and let all of those things go, because wrinkled satin (or not satin, maybe it's chiffon, or taffeta, see above statement Gary) or not, at the end of it, we shall be married.

But damn it, I have got to do something about my current haircut.

Monday, January 02, 2012

another year over, a new one just begun

Monday, January 02, 2012
Tomorrow I have to head back into the office, and I'm so not ready to emerge from my snuggly holiday cocoon.

This is the first year in a very long time that I've had the entire stretch of days between Christmas and New Year's off - totally off, not a "I'll be on-call and check in regularly in case anything comes up" off. Nope. I haven't checked my work email or voicemail and I've even managed to put all thoughts of doomed design projects and bad copy written hastily between appearances at advertiser Christmas parties out of my head.

Except now they're creeping back in.

I'm not ready to go back. I'm pleased to announce that yes, I achieved my goal of being employed in the same place on January 1, 2012 as I was a year earlier, but I'm going to be straight up honest and admit that it really hasn't been easy.

I love where I work, I like my job function and tasks, and most of the people I work with. Emphasis on most. But sometimes, I want to wrap my hands around the throat of my career and squeeze, and shake the last breath out of it, Homer-to-Bart style.

And I don't know what that means.

Five years ago, I would have taken that as a sign that this wasn't the right career for me. And you know, maybe it isn't. Because obviously the right career for me is googling random shit, eating bonbons and memorizing useless trivia, but only a rare few are actually able to do that for a living. But I do like my job, most of the time. I think that it's a good fit for my skills, I'm pretty good at it and I have the right personality for it, and honestly - what else am I going to do with my life?

What I've learned in the last six years, through five jobs, is that it can always be worse. Because you know, I have actually worked in an office where someone wrapped their hands around someone else's throat Homer-style, and it was not pleasant.

I keep that in mind when I want to slap certain people across the face with a chewed-on corncob.

2011 was a big, eventful year, full of mortgages and floods and property tax mix-ups and maternity leave fallout and births and deaths and anniversaries; arguments and concessions, forgiveness and fear and honesty and humility.

2012 is going to be a big year too - but here's hoping that this year, I find a little more pleasure in the routine, find a little more challenge from within, and that maybe this year will be the year I learn to just close my office door, turn on CBC radio 3 and learn to let go of my favourite four little words:

"I told you so."