Must Be Nice

As a single woman in her thirties there is a phrase I tend to hear a lot.  It kind of sounds like this: "it must be nice".  It must be nice to have the whole place to yourself.  It must be nice to not be accountable to anyone. It must be nice to have so much spare time.  It must be nice to have the whole bed to yourself.  

It must be nice. 

You know what must be nice? To have someone to come home to.  Go to dinner with. Confide in. It must be nice to be able to cook a nice meal and not have endless leftovers or try cutting the recipe in half.  To not buy produce knowing the majority of it will spoil.  It must be nice to do things and know your actions matter to someone other than yourself. It must be nice to have someone to do things with in what little spare time you may have and not miss out on concerts, trips and activities because you're too ashamed to go alone or know it won't be nearly as fun by yourself.  

It must be nice to reach out in the middle of the night and know you're not alone. 

My 'favorite' is "it must be nice to sleep in"... as though I should feel guilty for not having children, like it's a choice I've made. Being made to feel lazy while the rest of the world toils away. Like I'm not doing my part. That I'm wasting my life.   You know what must be nice? Having a reason to get out of bed in the morning. Knowing you're loved unconditionally. Not asking yourself, over and over, "what's the point" as you roll over in bed and hope for another day to pass, only to return to bed that night knowing nothing has changed. Not watching the years go by and the world changing for everyone but yourself, fearing life is passing you by.  That it's too late for you.  That's what must be nice. 

Because, ya, it might be nice to sleep in... but I sure as hell don't sleep any better at night. 

 

TGI(V)F: Video Killed The Radio Star

A lot of people post videos on Friday. Perhaps it's a nice way to wrap up the week.... perhaps it's the easy thing to do at the end of a long hard week... or perhaps it's for lack of anything else to post.

I'm not admitting to any of these. Let's just call it coincidence that I saw this today and just had to share, shall we?

The Topic of Conversation

Now that I have an iPhone my productivity has greatly increased. Not only can I tweet from the grocery store I can tweet from EVERY. SINGLE. AISLE. of the grocery store (fun for all, I'm sure). I can blog from the book store (perhaps I should really focus on actually making my purchases) and have in-depth conversations with friends, from the comfort of my desk, on such hot topics as world peace.

And by 'world peace' I mean 'gummie bears'. What... you don't discuss gummie bears with your friends via text message in an ABCA rhyme scheme?

Ya... me neither.

Labels

Forgive me for stating the obvious but is it not a widely known fact that children's wear should, as a general rule of thumb, be kept away from fire? Regardless of whether it actually being on (or off) the child. Does this topic not come up in prenatal classes, somewhere between 'put babies to sleep on their backs' and 'feed regularly'?

Because it probably should.

Ode to a Golden Girl

Dear Betty White:

I love you. Really, I do. But the old lady sex jokes? Got old (pardon the pun) approximately 4,325 jokes ago. I get it, you're hip. But, honestly? I liked you better when you were cute, not 'sexy'. I liked it when you were grandmotherly, not whorey. And I miss thinking of you as a Golden Girl, instead of a Skanky Skank.

You were endearing. Timeless. And I really wanted to pinch your cute little cheeks. I loved your cardigans, your string of pearls and your rosy cheeks. But these days I can't say any of that without innuendos. I wanted you to introduce me to your (hot, single and rich) grandson. I wanted to attend your family reunions and have Thanksgiving at your house. I admired your longevity and stamina.

And I don't mean that kind of stamina.

I'm glad you're back in the limelight. You're a Hollywood institution and you deserve your moment in the sun but do you think you could maybe go back to making jokes about rainbows and kittens?

And I don't mean that kind of kitten.

So please, Ms. White, return to the innocence of yesteryear. When jokes were about you being flighty and naiive... not flirty and naughty.

Sincerely yours,
Your Junior (by more than 50 years)

PS... after seeing her appearance on Dancing With The Stars I think Florence Henderson might just be my new favorite. At least she keeps her racy comments to a respectable amount. Relatively speaking, of course.

Say Cheese, Food Baby.

I had an ultrasound on Friday. I saw couples in the waiting room, about the same age as me, and knew they were full of excitement to see the first glimpse of their baby. I wondered if they imagined why I was there? Did they wonder if I was a single mother? Did they feel sorry for me having no one to share the moment with... or did they feel a kindred connection simply by being in the same spot at the same time for, perhaps, the same reason? Did they imagine we'd cross paths again, at prenatal classes, baby bear gymnastics and school events? Or did other thoughts cross their mind the way mine did when I saw an older gentlemen leafing through a magazine. I wondered: is he sick? Dying? Without anyone to hold is hand and tell him he's not alone? Or is he simply having a heart valve checked (do they do that with ultrasounds?) or a kidney stone zapped (again, I'm not a doctor... I just play one on my blog).

That's the thing about waiting rooms: every person has a story. It's a great spot for a person who has an active imagination and enjoys watching people. I actually enjoy hospitals and medical offices. Perhaps it's the organization of all the files and charts... perhaps it's all the people and stories that come through the doors... or perhaps it's the tongue depressors that can be used as ice cream spoons. I like the fact everyone treats you nicely, even if it's the fact they think there might be something wrong with you. And, as a geek, I think it's super cool that we live in an age where we can see someone's insides without ever having to make a cut.

All in all, the appointment went quite well... much better than the time I had to drink a liter of water beforehand and nearly peed on the table (do they really have to push so hard?). Although I don't think the technician particularly enjoyed my sense of humor when I asked if she could tell me the sex of my food baby.

Some people just have no sense of humor.

Still, I couldn't help but wonder, as I do at every wedding, baby shower, stagette and anniversary party I attend, if I would ever have my turn in the sun. If I would ever be back to that spot as the one in the waiting room, holding the hand of their spouse, anxiously awaiting what they're about to see. The thing about it lately is... it doesn't really matter, one way or the other. I'm quite content to not be back there, for whatever the reason.

I wonder... is that progress? Or complacency?

Facebook: The (anti) Social Network

After a bit of a hiatus (which I blame solely on the fact that I have spent the last 4 out of 5 weekends out of country and/or province and not at all on the fact I'm kind of lazy) I have a new article up on Chic Galleria that poses the question... is social media actually social? Come visit and, as always, enter the giveaways (open to Canadians too!) and, if the mood strikes you, leave a comment. It makes my editor think I'm cooler than I actually am.

Not that I could possibly get any cooler, of course.

Neil Sedarka was right... Breaking up IS hard to do!

You know that moment? The one at the cusp of a break-up... where everything's been said and there's no going back... but there's that one last moment... the one where you do 'the exchange'. The last final act where you return what was once his and he returns what was once yours. Where you split things down the moment and call it a draw. Pack your stuff into a box and walk away, knowing that's it. That's all.

Well I think I had one of those moments... with my mother.

It started off as an email. Our first real bit of communication since last November, with the exception of a brief phone call and casual chit chat at a bridal shower we were both, separately, invited to. She said she was cleaning out her house and she had some stuff of mine.

I suggested we do the exchange over coffee.

It was short. Almost too short but probably better that way, lest we get into things better left alone. But also? It was kind of sad. Because it did feel like a break up. Like when He and I broke up... it wasn't so much that I wanted my stuff back, it was that He didn't want to keep anything that reminded Him of me. That hurts. To think that you've been erased from someone's life. Even if it was bound to happen.

Even if you might be better off.

The thing that made me most sad? There was a container of bacon shaped band-aids (I do love my bacon) that were meant to be a stocking stuffer for me last Christmas that were unreturnable (yes, unreturnable is a real word. Well... it could be). My mom always had fun shopping for me. It makes me sad to think she returned other gifts. That she gave up hope that they will ever be given. To, as a mother, know that you're letting go of your child. It made me sad to think of what maybe could have been. It's not so much greed over the gifts but, rather, the fact someone cared enough to make the effort. Some gifts over the years were thoughtful. Special. Some gifts, every now and then, made me feel thought of. Special. It's hard to know that's gone.

The ironic thing is that I had a gift from last Christmas too. I just hadn't thought to take it with me.

Melancholy is an fickle thing. It makes us think of only the good times. It's a good thing.

But sometimes it can be a real asshole.

Off the Wagon

Tomorrow I start a diet. Again.

I was doing so well. For a while. And I can't help but thinking that if I had just kept doing what I had been doing I'd be done. All the weight would be gone. Instead, I struggle to get motivated. Thinking that it's too late. The trip I was loosing it for is over. All the people I had wanted to show my new self to have already been seen. The summer of my skinniness has turned into fall.

I know I will be so happier, so healthier once this is all said and done. I know that the goal should be motivation itself... but it's hard to remember that when I'm craving something sweet. Something salty. Or a combination thereof.

I imagine this is how it feels to be a recovering alcoholic. To have so many good days under one's belt and then blow it completely. To have to start the count all over again, knowing that if you had just kept going the number would be so much more impressive. So much easier to deal with. So much more easier to handle.

And so tomorrow is another day. Just like today. But, hopefully, different.

Music to my Ears Eyes

I typically don't listen to pop music. I find it's less singing and more yelling. Less talent and more marketing. I don't have the radio programmed in my car (and, no, it has nothing to do with the fact I lost the manual) and I always seem out of the loop when it comes to what 'the kids' are listening to these days.

I will admit, I can be pretty stubborn when it comes to fads. I will often not like a movie solely because of all the hype. And while my distaste for mainstream music may stem, slightly, from my stubborn streak I tend to think it's not so mcuh about the genre as it is about the talent.

Or lack thereof.

After all, I do listen to some pop. If the musician is an actual musician. A person who puts the artistry back in 'artist'.

I'm not hypocritical... I'm just picky.

And this? This is amazing. This is talent. This I could watch a million times over and still be amazed. How many things in life are like that?

Not nearly enough.

How To Be Alone

It has taken me many years to learn how to be alone. To be brave enough to venture out to do the things I would not have previously done by myself. Eating in a restaurant. Going to a show. Seeing the sites in a foreign city. Even going to a foreign city in the first place.

It takes a strong person to be alone. A brave, courageous person. I would be lying if I said I didn't keep the lights on a little longer the evenings I watch scary movies. And that I don't always (always) run up the basement stairs if I do laundry after the sun sets. And that I never look back. Ever.

I quite enjoy my alone time. In fact, I don't seem to get enough of it these days. And I know that I will miss it, should it ever go away.

A person can wish they weren't alone and still like being alone.

I think this is what I am most proud of. The greatest stride I have made these past few years. It's not the fact that I am alone... it's the fact that I am okay with it. It's not the fact I have no company to keep... it's the fact I enjoy my own company.

I wonder if those who are not alone could do the same? Could they "go to an unfamiliar city, roam the streets"? After all, "benches made for sitting give strangers a shared existence, if only for a moment. And these moments can be so uplifting and the conversations may never have happened if you had you not been there by yourself". It is so true... would I have had as many great moments and met so many wonderful people in Turkey, Paris, Amsterdam or New York if I had been focused on someone else, instead of myself and the world around me?

I have spent much time obsessing over being alone. And not just with respect to a significant other, I've spent years feeling guilty for not being able to make the family I have become the family I want, thinking it was better than being alone when, really, "if your family doesn't get you... don't obsess about it".

"Society is afraid of alone-dom... like people must have problems if, after a while, nobody is dating them". But isn't this hypocritical when most everyone who has anyone tends to say that nobody can love you if you don't love yourself? To that same tone... how can you be with anyone else if you can't be with yourself?

And for those who are afraid of this alone-dom the lesson to be learned is this: "Lonely is a freedom that breathes easy and weightless".

"And Lonely is healing... if you make it".

I think that's been the hardest lesson I've had to learn yet.

Defining moments, Part II

A continuation of the defining moments of my life. The ones I imagine I will look back on in my golden years, pondering how they shaped not only me but, perhaps, the world. Visit here for Part I

The Challenger Disaster, 1986: while I'm sure there were substantial events that took place prior this was the first relatively live-breaking news story I was ever in front of the TV for. I was playing in the basement by myself. My dream up until that point? To become an astronaut. I watched the launch with wide-eyed childlike wonder, followed by the horror of trying to process what it was I was watching. I don't remember my parents' reaction to how upset I was but it was this moment, at the ripe age of 8 years old, that will forever symbolize the end of my child-like innocence. I feel so sad for that little girl, who's dreams blew up before her very eyes. One month later that little girl's grandpa would die. The age of 8 stands out in my mind as a defining year for so many reasons, but these would be the most prominent.

Baby Jessica, 1987: the girl in the well. Another live breaking news story. I was at my cousin's house. Except he wasn't my cousin. But we were at that age... the one were boys and girls started being teased that they were boyfriend and girlfriend. But we were also at that other age... the one where the opposite sex was still nothing more than another person, rather than another sex. So we told everyone we were cousins so we could be friends. We were having a sleepover. Except I wasn't allowed to sleep over because, again, we were at that age... at the cusp of childhood, or the end thereof. So my parents planned to pick me up as I fell asleep, so that I didn't technically 'sleep with a boy', even if it was in seperate bunks. I remember running in and out of the living room that night, between playing, to check the progress of the girl in the well. I specifically remember it. The layout of the house, the interior design leftover from the 70's and the way the lights shone and the night got dark. I remember celebrating the moment she emerged. And I remember wondering, for the first time in my life, why it was such a big deal I was hanging out with a boy, let alone a boy who was one of my best friends and kept a picture of me above his bed, so I could be the first thing he saw in the morning and the last person he saw at night. Much like the Challenger disaster... I lost a bit of innocence that day.

Fall of the Berlin wall, 1989: I come from a German family, being only 2nd generation Canadian and growing up with Aunts and Uncles speaking German I didn`t know why but, for some reason, I found myself often feeling guilty for being German yet proud of my Grandfather's family who knew to leave, via Holland, because something wasn't quite right. I had heard of a long-lost Uncle, assumed to be on the other side of the wall. When the wall fell it was such a moment. Of pride and relief. Of a new start and an ended past. I was proud to be a part of that nation, the one that opened itself up. Even if it was such a small part... from so far away.

The death of Princess Diana, 1997: an event that would not have been so significant had my favorite cousin, if not person, in all the world not passed away only weeks earlier, at 29 years of age. I was asleep when my roommate knocked softly on my door, the light from the hall spilling into the darkness. She said "something has happened" and, like the phone call I had received weeks before, I knew someone had died. We sat on the floor of our apartment, perhaps because the world didn't seem to deserve the comfort of a couch that night, in the middle of the night, watching and crying. My heart had already been broken and at that moment I thought that, surely, the world was ending. The last time I had been woken up so late in the evening to watch something on the TV was, ironically, Princess Di`s wedding in 1981.

September 11th, 2001: A day that needs no defining, no explanation. My alarm clock went off not to the sound of music, like it did every single day of every year of my university career, but to people talking. Groggy, I couldn't make sense of it but the moment the phone rang, at such an early hour, I knew something was terribly wrong. My best friend's best friend was living in New York. She was frantic. I stood in the living room, and together we watched, on separate ends of a telephone line, as one burning building turned into two... turned into one... turned into none, not knowing where our friend was. I went to school, solely to be around people. Nothing was learned that day... yet so much was learned. My friend? Slept in that day, having worked late the night before. His office? Spitting distance from the towers. He came home as soon as he was able to do so, which seemed like forever. Was on the cover of the local newspaper. And was never the same again.

The Indian Ocean Tsunami, 2004: I'll openly admit that I didn't really understand the situation until long after it happened. Sure, I had heard the news but it was hard to comprehend waves that high and water that far inland. It wasn't until the video started rolling and the stories were told that I truly understood. People clinging to trees, loosing their grip on loved ones, watching them being carried away. If it weren't for the media coverage I would remain naive to this day. Which makes me wonder... is the news these days really that much worse than it was in my grandmother's time... or were they just not aware of the goings-on of the world? And what is better: knowing... or being blissfully unaware?

Presidential Election; November 4th, 2008: I was in Vegas (from Canada) for a work conference during Obama's presidential win. I felt lucky to be in the U.S. for such a momentous occasion... a silent observer of a world so close, yet so different, from my own. I went down to the hotel bar to watch everyone's reaction. I was so excited. People looked so happy. But then something happened. Over the cheers of jubilation I heard something else. Something horrible. I thought I knew racism... I didn't. Never had I seen anyone, let alone a mob, express such hatred in front of not just other people but perfect strangers. It got to the point where I feared what would happen next. Would there be physical violence? A riot? Loitering? I went back to my room, heartbroken and saddened for the world. And it wasn't just there, that night. On the way home I sat beside whom I believe to be a nice couple on my flight to Denver. They chatted of their family, their line of business, their trip. They were obviously well-to-do and I imagined them living a life that was much more dignified and full of opportunity than I could ever hope for my own to be. For a brief instant I was jealous and wondered what my life would be like if I were less like myself and more like them. And then they started on their rant (and what a rant it was!)... about how their country was doomed, how they would surely move to Canada, and how they feared for their lives... simply because of the colour of their president's skin. I couldn't fathom the reason why they would think I would be okay with them speaking like that. They didn't know me and, yet, they felt as though we must share similar opinions. Why? Because I had the same skin tone? When I said I was actually happy with the outcome of their election and that I was not interested in discussing their politics or race it was like a switch had been flicked and the very nice couple I met on the plane became not very nice at all. Needless to say, it made for a very awkward flight. I hope I never again experience such a thing. So much hatred and unfounded fear in the face of something that was long overdue. In the end, though, it was probably an important life lesson/experience to have had. Here's hoping I'm the last generation that gets to share such a story. Sadly, I'm not sure if that will be the case.

There are many more moments, I'm sure, that will make up the memories of my lifetime. Some that I may have already forgotten... some that are yet to come. Some will be good, some will be tragic but all will make up a history that will belong not only to myself but to the world. I will recognize some of them as they happen while others will be more subtle, more personal. Each lifetime, each person, will have their own defining moments. But they will all be equally important.

What things a lifetime can see!

Hell Freezeth Over

The unimaginable has happened. The day we all thought would never come has finally arrived. After weeks of futile efforts. Of hoping, every day, that 'today will be the day'. After being disappointed, time after time. No, I didn't go on a date and, no, a man did not ask for my phone number. No, no... this event is far more rare and, dare I say it, far more special. You see, today is the day that will forever be known as... the day I got an iPhone.

This may seem a tad extreme but first you must know that this was my previous cell phone. Take in the beauty of it's monochromatic screen. Remain in awe of it's 30 second battery life. Marvel at it's many features, such as 'clock', 'game' (singular) and 'backlit keys'. Enjoy the simplicity of not having a camera, call display or voice mail:



The old phone owes me nothing. The last time I spoke with my service provider the agent took pity on me and gave me, get this, a year of free service. After 6 years I finally learned how to text (who knew the area code was so important?!?) and I think a total of 3 people have my cell phone number, all of whom know to not even bother calling my suck-ass phone.

I am in awe of my shiny new gadget. I look forward to learning how it works (I accidentally left a 4 minute long voicemail of nothingness because I didn't know how to hang up) and the fact I can now be online anytime, anywhere. I think it's safe to say... the internet is about to get a whole lot more annoying.

I apologize, in advance.

PS... I took the photo of the old phone with the new phone. The old phone was all "what?!?! iPhone can do whaaaat?!?" Yes, that is EXACTLY what the old phone would say if it were 'smart' enough.