Just another anxious Monday

Today I got on my bike and set out to A. Go to a computer store and get an electrostatic bag (as outlined by the manufacturer), then B. Go to UPS, put my External Drive into electrostatic bag, then buy a box, put into box and package up to ship back to the manufacturer for repair. $30 later, the Drive is off to Burlington. I leave UPS, it's raining and the wind is well, windy. I bike home huffing and puffing against the wind, rain blowing into my eyes. I check my mail. There's a letter from the library, well a bill. It says I owe $19 for a book, they say I lost. grrr. I never lost this book! I clearly remember returning it! I start to feel annoyed, how am I going to prove that I didn't lose this book? Goddamn it I'm going to have to pay for this fricken book! Breathe Jenny, just breathe. I never even read the bloody thing! It was months ago when I was in a 'self-help' phase and signed out a bunch of promising titles. I looked at the bill again and couldn't help but laugh at the irony when I read the title of the 'missing' book: Self coaching: The powerful program to beat anxiety. If only I had read it.

The cycle of life and love

I've started job hunting. Yah, I know you feel me. It sucks. So difficult to remain positive and upbeat. Hard not to stress about well, the unknown. It really reminded me of online dating, another awful thing that I partook in recently. If you don't start out insecure, you certainly end up there. Or you don't. Depending on what happens. In my case, both endeavors make me reach for the ice cream/booze/cigarettes/insert vice here. Then of course, after indulging in ones vice, one feels bad about themselves then feels more insecure and useless and will 'never get a job' 'never find love' and so the cycle goes on and on until you get a call for that interview, or you get a flirty message from that cutie. Then suddenly you feel on top of the world. Until you don't.

Like mother like daughter

My mother was just in town for a few days. She stayed with me in my tiny apartment — she took my bed, I took the hard-as-cement couch. We explored the city all day and dined at some place interesting every night. We got along great, my mother is really wonderful to spend time with. We talked, A LOT. We really never ran out of things to discuss — which is not surprising to those of you that know me — I usually have A LOT to say, often about nothing. One evening we drank a little too much. We had a glass of wine at home, actually maybe two, went for dinner, shared a bottle, then came home and had a little baileys. Just a little. A digestif if you will. The next morning my mother felt a little groggy and swore she would not drink that much anymore on this trip. She said we shouldn't get a bottle of wine at dinner, just a glass or two. I agreed. So, we went about our day wandering and exploring, then out for dinner. Again on the way there my mom repeated how we won't get a bottle. I again agreed. We get to the restaurant, sit down and my mother says: 'We should get a bottle'. We both laughed and I told her that I do that too. Recently someone I was dating pointed this out to me, that I say something, then a little later say the opposite. It's kinda how I figure out what I actually think or want, by saying it out loud. It's a process if you will. I also have no willpower and little self control...but that's another blog post. Since being told this, I've been thinking about why I am that way. I came to the conclusion that I was just a bit strange. It never occurred to me that this might be something I got from my mother. In all these years I never noticed she does that too. My mother is just as weird as I am, and that is kind of great.

Some things never change

The other day someone I went to elementary school with found this note I wrote in probably grade 4 or 5 to some boy named Blair. She took a photo of it and posted it to my Facebook wall. The note said something about how everyone was teasing me for liking him and that I don't like that and oh, please write back! (see attached photo for full note) I don't remember this Blair person or writing this note — I wonder if he even saw it? Who knows! Hey, I was ten years old for gawds sake! What was interesting about this was that a friend of mine saw the post on my wall and told me that even back then I enjoyed being vulnerable, that I 'put myself out there'. (And, I still write those capital N's exactly the same way.) I was also pretty bossy and that is something else I tend to be now (in a cute way...I think...oh, I don't know). This struck me as funny and true. We don't change that much. Now of course some things have changed. When I write my latest crush a note, I probably use a richer vocabulary and probably send a Facebook message or email or text instead of using some cute stationary with handwritten type. And I may not be so bold to say 'write back!'....but I always hope they do.

No iPhone, no aloha

I do not have an iPhone. I also do not have a blackberry or any sort of smartphone. I have a phone that I can answer calls on, receive and send texts and well, that is pretty much it. I have nothing against these devices it's just that because I am on a computer Monday to Friday, 9 to 5 with constant online access, I've never found myself caring about that capability when I was out of my house. I know eventually I will get an iPhone, but I'm not rushing into anything. I've seen what happens when people get one, they are never the same. They are taking photos of everything from street signs to their bowl of corn chowder. They are tweeting their locations from Dufferin Mall to Tim Horton's. And why are they doing this? Because they can! It's so easy so why not and it's fun! I get it. The other day I looked out my window and saw this fat cat sitting on my roof. My first thought was 'cat on a hot tar roof' and my next thought was that I should take a picture of it, put it online and that could be the caption. I grabbed my phone, turned it towards the cat, looking for the zoom. I didn't have one. I went to get my camera, I took it out of its case, went to turn it on, the battery was dead. I looked back out the window, that fat cat on the hot tar roof was gone and I had nothing to show for it.

Mysterious chairs

Last night my friend and I went out for a few beers. We sat at the bar and after awhile she suggested we go outside and have a cigarette. The place wasn't packed, but I left my gloves on the bar to mark my place. As we were walking out, these two women sitting at the bar eyed us with a sort of glee. We didn't really pay attention to it at the time, but later, we understood why they expressed that odd emotion. We enjoyed a smoke and came back in to find those women had migrated to our spot. They had moved from their seats at the bar to our seats at the bar. My friend was furious. I was amused. My friend spoke loudly about how we lost our spot as I wandered over to grab my gloves. I came back and my friend decided that when they go outside for a smoke, we will switch back just like nothing happened. It was a plan. We continued drinking, continued our discussion of what would make those seats better than these seats, and waited for our moment. It never came, they finished their drinks and left. I said to my friend that I'll be on my deathbed texting her, no wait, I'll telepathically communicate to her — or however we do things in the future — saying (in an old person's voice) "so many years have passed and we will never know why those women changed seats. It is one of life's great mysteries. gasp. gasp. gasp." And I'm gone.

Partying is such sweet sorrow

It's Friday night. I'm supposed to go to this birthday that will have in attendance some gossipy, back-stabbing, nasty women. I would obviously need to drink in order to stomach it, but my stomach is saying no, no, no to the drinks. Well my future stomach that is. The one that I will wake up with tomorrow after downing many cocktails. The first one or two will be to numb my nerves a little, the next one will be to tolerate the I can only imagine insults about who happens to not be in earshot. Then after that, well I don't remember! I don't want to go. I'm too old for this. I've been partying and tolerating unpleasant company for 20 years. It's time I cut back on the drinks and cut out the Riff Raff. After all, I'm not getting any younger. The grim reaper could be right around the corner waiting for me and I think if I was hung over, I would find him really annoying.

Chain of desire

Last night I visited one of my regular drinking spots. Due to the warm weather, I decided to ride my bike there. After a couple, my friends and I made the move to another bar. I unlocked my bike and as I pulled it away, the chain snagged on something and came off the sprockets (yes, that is what they are called, I googled it). I called to my friends 'hey, wait up, I have to fix my chain!' They stopped and made their way back to me. As this was happening a group of 3 women walked past us, on their way into the bar. One of them turned to me and offered to fix it. I glanced at her and told her that was a very nice offer but I can do it. I looked at the chain and realized my hands would get pretty greasy doing this. My cute little soft hands. I hesitated. The two security/door guys outside handed me a cloth napkin to protect my hands. I thought it strange as one of them earlier was chatting about building a bike for someone, but hey, I guess chivalry is dead. I took the napkin and grasped the chain when suddenly the woman that offered her services earlier came back out of the bar and told me to stop what I was doing. I looked at her. She was all corporate-power suit-heels-feminine-sexy as hell. She ordered me to flip the bike over. I obliged. I offered her the cloth napkin, she waved it away and grabbed the chain, pulling it over the sprocket, black grease all over her hands. In 5 seconds, it was all over. She released the bike, said 'there you go'. I handed her the napkin to wipe off her hands and thanked her. She told me it was not a problem and smiled as she handed me back the greasy napkin and went back into the bar. I, stunned, walked my bike to the next bar, a little smitten, a lot aroused and with a story to tell.

War wounds

The other morning I woke up, mouth dry, skin puffy and crying out for moisturizer, my brain scrambling to adjust to the harsh reality of afternoon. I started preparing my smoothie in my mind — blueberries, bananas, yoghurt — adding the ingredients until my mouth started to produce fluid. I got up. I stumbled out of bed and stumbled to the kitchen (what up Dolly!) and prepared my miracle drink. The whir of the blender made me stumble to the bathroom for an Advil, where I looked at myself in the mirror. Gasp. The horror. I smoothed my hair off my face and noticed a huge bruise on my wrist. What the? I flashed back to the evening before. Me sitting with a friend at the bar - drinks - oysters - more drinks - oh blahblah is here, yeah! - more drinks - hey there's blahblah and she brought blahblah with her - oh I love this song, let's dance - more drinks - let's share a smoke - ooh that blahblah is cute - more drinks - I can't believe blahblah just did that - more drinks - leave with blahblah - make out with blahblah - leave blahblah's - stumble into taxi - stumble up the stairs - stumble into bed. Hmm. I was stumped. It could have been from anything! I couldn't figure it out until I went to write an email and as my wrist touched down on the desk I realized the bruise was from hitting the bar. Drink to my lips -  drink down on bar - wrist hits bar - repeat 17 million times. Yikes, I was so embarrassed and thought I should reserve my spot at rehab! Then I thought, meh, it could be worse, it could be a bruise on my ass from sitting too much on a bar stool, I mean, at least I got around.

Friendship, cocktails, doubt, oh my!

Last night I went to my neighbourhood bar where a good friend works. I sat on my usual stool, exchanged some pleasantries with my friend, squeezed a lime into my promptly delivered vodka & soda and then took a sip. Ah. I needed that. The bar was busy, my friend had little time to chat so I got on my phone to see what people were up to. I needed to be entertained. I messaged another good friend to see what she was doing. She told me she was at another bar playing trivia. Then messaged again asking if I wanted to join them. I got sad. I felt unloved, insecure. I thought, why didn't she invite me earlier? We always went to trivia together, I thought this was our thing? By the time I got there, if I went, it would be almost done. So, I politely declined but continued to feel sad. I confided to my bar-tender friend and took comfort in my cocktail. I was in a rut and continued in this self-imposed rut into my second drink when I decided to message her again and ask how come she didn't invite me? She messaged right back saying she was with people that I didn't know, old friends and that I shouldn't be sad. And suddenly I wasn't. I understood. I wondered why I wasted almost an hour being sad, I should have questioned her right away. She sent me another message saying next time she would be more reassuring. I laughed out loud, and replied back "well, now you know better!" Then I looked at my bar-tender friend and said "Barkeep, I'll have another!"

40

The other night I met this woman. At some point during our conversation, I asked how old she was, as I inevitably do. She said 29. She asked me the same question. I took a breath, then said 40. She barely flinched, but looked at me and said 'really?' but I didn't buy it. I said yah. She bought it. I took a big gulp of my vodka soda. Um, hello? I look young...that's what everyone says. That's what everyone has said for years. How dare she digest so smoothly my 40 year oldness. pfft. I mean really. I took a breath, excused myself, went to the bathroom and looked in the mirror. How did this happen? My whole adult life people have constantly told me how I look younger than my age. I always shrugged it off, oh please! You flatter me! OH psshaw! You're silly! I mean really! Stop, just stop it! And in one night, it all came crumbling down. My first impulse was to share an intimate bath with a toaster. But I then I thought about it. I realized that this was a relief. Now I can let those white hairs that are showing up in my hairline show, I can stop doing shots at last call, I can stay home on Saturday nights and watch SNL and I could stop pretending that I understood Nicki Minaj. I was finally free! I'm 40, I feel 40 and I look probably somewhere around 35 ;)

Emoticon rescue

The other day I made a faux pas. A text faux pas. You see, I got a text from this woman, a woman I don't know well, in fact we only met once and we spoke professionally, although there was an underlying chemistry. When I responded to her text I ended it with a winky face emoticon. Yikes. I meant to use a happy face emoticon. I didn't mean to flirt. I could have flirted — I mean, I might have wanted to flirt, but I'm not sure. It was too soon, it was out of context, it was too forward. And now it's not like I can text back saying 'hey, I typed a winky face, but I meant to type a happy face, so....'. That will just make things worse. So, now I wait, wait and see if it goes unnoticed, or noticed. Maybe I will tell this story on our wedding day? Maybe this faux pas is cupid working his mysterious ways? Or maybe I will never see or hear from this woman again. And maybe, just maybe, I'm ok with whatever happens next.

Facebook cycles of life and love

I'm always at a loss for words when I see a Facebook friend change their relationship status to 'in a relationship' and immediately start gathering 'likes'. What are these people liking exactly? And why is this Facebook friend needing people to 'like' their relationship? What exactly is going on here? Is this about approval? Are they liking the fact that their friend is capable of getting a man/woman? Are they relieved that now they won't have to listen to their friend's constant moaning about how they can't get a man/woman? Congratulations, someone wants to sleep with you more than one time!! I really don't see this as a great accomplishment. And why do these people care? Does this really have anything to do with them? Are these the same people that when their friend changes their status back from 'in a relationship' to 'single' a few months later, 'like' it all over again but comment: "And by like I mean DISLIKE!" or they type a row of hearts, or "You're better off alone!" Really?...but but but you liked it when they were in a relationship. Never mind that the person they were in a relationship with was a complete ass/cheat/bore/smelled bad/talked too much/insert flaw here. It's over. But hang on, all is not lost, in a few weeks or months or days they will meet someone else and change their status back again to 'in a relationship', and you can 'like' it all over again like it's the first time you've ever liked anything.

Will work for inspiration

I am self-employed. I have been for awhile, but recent events have got me thinking it might be time to get a job — or move to Europe. One being the loss of one of my biggest clients (they hired an in-house designer). I started thinking about what I would like to do. Besides the obvious of getting a graphic design job, or something in production. I mean, what interests me, where do I see myself next? I began thinking about jobs I've had in the past and remembered some of the well, more interesting ones. Oh, you want me to tell you about them? Ok, I will. Here goes. A long time ago, a young, fresh faced Jenny answered the call to protect her community. She stepped up, swallowed her pride, put on a big security shirt and some mittens and guarded a container of frozen turkeys at the local Safeway. I was turkey security. You see, one year before Xmas, there was a scare, someone had been injecting turkeys with poison, so they hired a whole whack of young people to stand around 'guarding' these turkeys so no funny business could occur. Twelve - 8 hour shifts in a row in the freezer section later — I couldn't look at a turkey for months.
Next came this friend of mine who worked for a market research firm. Their company was studying cigarettes. They needed people to conduct a 'smoking study'. This entailed wearing lab coats, interviewing subjects that took home a pack of different cigarettes each day. Needless to say the kind of people this attracted as subjects were, well, interesting. The subjects came in and we asked them questions about the cigarette's taste, it's draw, how fast or slow it burned, etc. Of course all of us went on the study too. Hey, free cigarettes for 2 weeks AND we got to wear a cool lab coat! We would have dance parties during slow periods and of course, chain smoke — hey, we had to! I can't say I couldn't look at a cigarette again, but hey, how can you compare cigarettes and turkeys? They really have little in common. Although both jobs left me with a sore throat. Anyway, my dear blog readers, please keep me in mind if you hear of some job that is interesting, wacky or creative, it might just be right up my alley.

Social Media 1, Jenny 0

I ran into this woman last night that I've had a crush on forever. This woman is not on Facebook — for whatever reason — she isn't. So, I only know her from the last time I saw her, you know, like in the olden days. She is the kind of woman that makes you feel like a 13-year-old boy. The kind of woman that makes you feel nervous and shy and insecure, the kind of woman that feels 'out of your league'. In all my previous encounters with this woman, I've kept my distance and when we did communicate, I made sure to keep it short. One time we were on a dance floor and she danced up to me and tousled my hair and all I could do was stare at the ground like some nervous teenager. I got so shy, so soft. For those of you that don't know me, I'm not usually this way, if I like someone I will make a play, do something, make a move, put myself out there, but this girl, I don't know, she is different. But last night after some encouragement from my sober friend, I made a play for her, to no success, in fact if you were there blog readers, well, you might be embarrassed for me. I'm embarrassed for myself, but for the sake of story telling, I will go on. It was like I asked her out, then quickly talked her out of it. Yes, I had had a few cocktails at this point. It's all sort of a blur now.... So, I wandered home, tipsy and alone, oh wait, I hailed a cab after a couple of blocks because it was cold. As I stumbled up my steps, I couldn't help but think if she was on Facebook I would know more about this woman. Have some background on her that could make me more successful or if by knowing that background might make me not interested in her in the first place. And maybe I feel this way about this woman because I don't know if a cat playing with a turtle makes her smile or if she cares about shit that girls say. Running into her was the only shot I got and I blew it. I can't post something cute on her wall now, can't write something witty that makes her laugh. She can't see how cool I am, she only knows the awkward, shy Jenny I present to her. As I unlocked my door, I thought about the days before Social Media. We had to listen more. Pay more attention to in person encounters — interpret signals. And perhaps that was more interesting. Then I thought, maybe it's just me — then I ate a piece of toast and went to bed. This morning I got up, wrote this tale and posted it in hopes that you will all still love me.