20/20 Talk

What I wish I would have known 5 years ago, at age 20

- Dude, your house is going to burn down. So when you go away for that one weekend to visit your brother, take your journals with you.

- You know how you pride yourself on holding on to grudges? You shouldn't. Because you aren't holding on to the grudge anymore, it's holding on to you, like a shackle. And every year you continue being angry, sweet girl, it just gets harder to remember why you are so angry in the first place. So back down, grow up and move on.

- Sunscreen. Wear it.

- You will meet a boy and he will be everything you didn't realize you wanted. But, you will break up. You'll contemplate a breakdown on the side of the highway and then much later, it will be the cause of a breakthrough. You will realize that sometimes, what someone will do to you- will have nothing to do with you. That their mistake doesn't have to be your fault.

- If a guy tells you he's a jerk, he's a jerk. If he tells you he's interested, he's interested. If he tells you he has a girlfriend but that he loves you, - run.

- Getting your degree with be the easy part. It's what you do AFTER you have it, that's challenging.

- You are smarter than you think you are.

What I wish I would have known 10 years ago, at age 15

- You know that girl in your highschool that you think is perfect? The one who always wears the Calvin Klein jeans and looks like she's just walked out of a toothpaste ad with her ever smiling grin? Yeah, she doesn't know what the hell she's doing with her life either.

- Don't worry. You will fall in love. I promise.

- Boys have feelings actually. And treating them poorly is bad form, and your mom raised you better than that. Plus, karma is going kick your ass in a few years with a string of bad dates and boys who think the word "tits" is a completely respectable term to throw out upon meeting. Be nice.

- Being rebellious doesn't make someone more interesting. Don't feel bad for not sneaking out and driving around town sipping strawberry wine with girls who have secret tattoos and hate their parents.

- Step away from the hairspray. Your bangs are now officially a fire hazard.

- He's not being mean to you, he's flirting with you. Flirt back.

- You are prettier than what you think you are.

What I wish I would have known 20 years ago, at age 5

-Listen sweetheart, you're mom has something called a 'hobo' purse. In fact, because your mom is a shopaholic she has a ton of them. And they are just going out of fashion so she's going to donate them to Goodwill. DO NOT LET THIS HAPPEN. One day in your future, those bags will become insanely popular again and you and your mom will reminisce over them. Save the bags!

- That's it. You are pretty much perfect.

Stealing Inspiration

So once again, I'm stealing an idea from Bre, because sometimes stealing is the only way I can be inspired.


Things I believe in....

I believe that "sleeping on it" always helps figure out life's big problems. Unless you are sleeping on a rock, then I'm against it.

I believe if your $15 lip gloss makes you feel like a million bucks, it's worth it.

I believe that the only thing more dangerous than a president with a narrow minded personal agenda, is a public who votes him into office. Twice.

I believe in forgiving people, not for them, but for yourself. I believe, this is easier said than done.

I believe that everyone belongs to someone.

I believe that drinking alone doesn't make you an alcoholic. Only drinking alone, maybe...

I believe that a true, honest, platonic friendship rarely can occur between a man and woman, but that it can occur. I believe I'm cynical about this because I'm much more like Harry than Sally.

I believe the hardest lesson to learn is that you can't help who you love, and trying to understand why you do, will lead to a weekly therapist appointment and a strange love affair with late night television.

I believe that you don't have to call your best friend at 3am, to prove she's your 3am friend.

I believe everyone looks prettier when they are happy and are happier when they are feeling pretty.

I believe in thank you notes, tipping even when the food wasn't great, and solo break dancing performances at weddings.

I believe that crying when your sports team loses a big game is perfectly acceptable- crying every time they lose a game, is not.

I believe in regrets, and that I'm a girl who needs to say I have them.

I believe every song sounds better live, every pie tastes better homemade and every shoe is more fabulous when it's on sale.

I believe teachers are undervalued. I believe I think this because I'm a) a teacher and b) someone who sees on a daily basis the gigantic impact a teacher has on students. I also believe that anyone who utters the phrase 'two month holiday' in regards to how easy teachers have it, has never heard the phrase ' school wide lice outbreak'.

I believe that money provides freedom, and freedom provides happiness.

I believe "I'm sorry" always sounds better than "I apologize".

I believe you can love someone more deeply and clearly than ever before, and still be the absolutely wrong person for them. I believe that knowing this, doesn't always bring comfort, in fact, it usually doesn't.

I believe that a woman should choose what she does with her body. I also believe, that abortion shouldn't be used as a form of birth control. I believe that this is a topic that needs more than three sentences to be fully explained.

I believe opening your presents on Christmas Eve is cheating.

I believe that forgiving someone doesn't mean you need to be friends with them.

I believe if someone wants to propose marriage to you, they will. I believe that asking for a proposal is asking for something I would never want.

I believe in the usefulness of interactive toys, light up games and sturdy Baby Einstein books. I also believe that an empty refrigerator box is the best gift you can give a child.

I believe that unless you voted, you haven't earned the right to complain about the government.

I believe every success I've had has been the result of a mother who gave me a truckload of confidence and an eye for great shoes.

I believe people need to let the Anna Nicole thing go. Seriously.

I believe being 'complicated' doesn't make you interesting. Some of the most fascinating people I know are those who live life simply, without the tanglements of drama.

Discomfort Zone

Like Pavlov's dogs, I'm learning that certain triggers will send me into an unplanned response. More specifically, certain phrases will send me into a blood curdling, hair tingling, cold and uncomfortable sweat that will prompt me to lie in the fetal position under my bed and drink whiskey until I think I AM Johnny Cash.

Okay, I exaggerate, but here are some phrases that make me prone to fits of extreme rage, or you know, just uncomfortable or unhappy...

- "I signed us up for karokee, stop drinking so fast, let's do this song sober!"

- "Hi there, this is Revenue Canada. Can we please speak to Brandy?"

- "You're late" (I hate,hate, HATE being late)

- "It's time for a pap smear!"

- " I think you are silly/cute/a joke".

- "It broke" (And to quote Louis Armstrong, 'if you have to ask, you'll never know')

- "Now, I know we said we weren't going to cut a lot of hair off this time, but I thought this Dorothy Hamill cut would really suit you. Hey, why are you crying?"

- "Nope, we don't have you booked on this airplane, sorry! Now can you step aside for the next person in line?"

- "Hey, dude, I'm watching your house burn down right now. No really. Ohhh, they just smashed your window."

- "I don't want to date you anymore, but happy birthday."

- "Ma'am, I need to see your license and registration" (this is only uncomfortable when I'm driving with expired insurance...)

- "You're a democrat? Wow, I would have totally pegged you as a Republican." (this one was more funny, but I was shocked nonetheless)

- "I don't watch The Office. Wait, why are you looking at me like that? What's wrong?"

And of course, the ever popular, never appreciated

- "I have some bad news"

Cheating: A words game?

I had a conversation recently that went something like this…

Not me: So, have you ever cheated on a boyfriend?
Me: Define cheat.
Not me: Have you ever had sex with someone else while dating a guy?
Me: No
Not me: So…. then what’s your definition of cheating?
Me: I think cheating is doing something I wouldn’t do if my boyfriend was there.
Not me: So then you have cheated?
Me: Well, under my definition yes. Under your definition, no.

(Long silence as we contemplate that under my definition we are both guilty and under theirs we are both innocent…)

It seemed strange that such a huge issue- the issue of cheating, would be defined so differently between two people. I always assumed that cheating was a black and white issue, how could there be so much confusion? So much grey matter? I decided to ask my trusty dictionary to give me some clear cut definition- and answer to the biggest question since the Caramilk bar mystery of the early 90's, but found out that Encarta is sometimes as helpful as a screen door in a submarine. This is what I got…

1. deceive somebody: to deceive or mislead somebody, especially for personal advantage
2. be unfaithful: to have a sexual relationship with somebody other than a spouse or regular sexual partner
3. escape something: to avoid harm or injury by luck or cunning

So, we both found our definition embedded in the great mind of Encarta. Instead of feeling pleased that the dictionary recognized the act of deceit as cheating, I was more troubled. Were Encarta and I prudes in assuming that cheating was deceit? Did everyone else think cheating was sex? And if they did, were the majority of these individuals carrying a Y chromosome?

I decided to take to the streets (okay, my email contact list) and ask others what they defined cheating as. Apparently, when it comes to cheating everyone has an opinion and it’s different from the rest. Here are some of the results…

Cheating is…..
- “sex.”
- “anything you do that you wouldn’t want anyone to find about”
- “ isn’t looking at other girls. It’s giving them my phone number when my girls in the bathroom”
- “unforgivable. People say they forgive it but don’t forget, but if you don’t forget something that horrible, how can it be a healthy relationship?”
- “boob grabbing”
- “ a words game. It’s instinct over conscience. It’s anything you do that you feel guilty about”
- “wishing the boyfriend/girlfriend you are with was someone else”
- “dangerous, and devastating if you are the person getting cheated on. I would never do it because I wouldn’t want anyone to go through what I did.”
- “anything you wouldn’t do with someone of the same sex (if you aren’t gay)”
- “removal of clothing”
- “lying to your partner because you spending time with someone else. Even if you are fully clothed and spend the whole day at the park, once you lie, you cheat”
- “sometimes a way to see if you are really serious about your boyfriend/girlfriend”
- “not cool unless you are on a holiday, or if she/he is cheating too”
- “not worth it. I mean, if you want to be with someone else, why are you with the person you are with?”
- “getting caught”

Honestly, it was a bit frightening to see that so many people I know define the act of cheating so differently, but it was nice to see that men weren’t prone to one type of answer and women another. There were pretty equal in the numbers of responses who viewed cheating as ‘just sex’ or ‘anything you feel guilty about’.

Our society clearly defines our world; this is what murder is, this is what marriage is, this is what taxable income is… and yet, cheating has slipped through the cracks. I realize that cheating is a moral issue and that it would be impossible to lay down a clear definition in the “book of life” , I’m just saying that it would be nice. I like the idea of in the heat of an argument being able to pull down a large book with tissue thin pages that would state: "Cheating is: holding the hand of another girl at the movies", or something similar. It would make things so much easier- and arguments a lot shorter.

Until then I will hold myself accountable and feel guilt over my past. Why? Because I’d rather be guilty under my definition than innocent under someone else’s.

Anyone have a different definition of cheating?

Under My Skin

There are those who you love. Those who love you. The lucky few who fall firmly into both groups. And then there are those people, the rare- and heartbreakingly lovely people who seem to find a way to seep under your skin and take up residence somewhere close to your heart. Like a memory you won’t forget and can’t convince yourself you should, these people have a lure that makes them impossible to say goodbye to- even when you’ve tried.

I have such a person. A fantastically brilliant, maddening, charming and utterly frustrating person that has a brownstone near my main artery. A person who’s punctuation inspires me to remember to put in my apostrophes. A person who reminds me that there is someone else out there who would choose vanilla over chocolate. A person who reminds me cats aren't all that bad. Due to reasons of fate, logic and personal sanity, it makes sense for us not to be friends. And we aren’t. Anymore. We are a weird hybrid of wary acquaintances and eager strangers- wanting to talk but never knowing what to say.

The hard part was learning that’s how it should be.

I’ve finally discovered that when someone has managed a way under your skin, has set up within striking distance of your heart and hunkered down for some time, you can’t really evict them. You don’t have a choice anymore. Everything they’ve ever said, or yelled or whispered- is stuck with you.- fixed in you. You cannot push ’delete’ as I has once hoped. When it’s impossible to say goodbye, wish them well, find a way to mean it and keep going. It doesn’t get less confusing but it does get less painful.

And if you are very, very lucky you will find that one day when you least expect it -it doesn’t hurt at all.

And that’s how it should be.

Tired

I'm tired. Not in the "I just ran a marathon and feel so ALIVE but yet so tired I need a good nap and a bottle of gatorade" way but in the "I woke up today counting all the things I had to do before I could go back to sleep" sort of way.

It feels like it's a bad sign when the idea of a life exhausts you.

Maybe it's the month. Valentines Day sends a jolt of love soaked fuel to coupled people. Since I am single, I used my energy in deflecting all the conversations of love, lust and "I can't believe how much we are meant to be together" talk. Right now, I feel I have nothing to add to any conversation that includes the word love. My body is starting to physically convulse when I see yet another happy couple shopping at Safeway. It's not pretty and I'm not proud. Maybe I'm suffering a Valentines Day hangover?

Or maybe it's the weather. I'm a scarf whore but I'm getting tired of the 26 layers of long sleeves and fleece zip ups and warm socks that I must don before leaving the house. I'm tired of walking slowly, planning every step in advance, searching the sidewalk for a glorious patch of raw pavement not glazed with ice. I'm tired of thicky icy roads that become a deathtrap when your truck has tires that are more bald than Britney. I drive nervously, hunched over my steering wheel like a grandmother and feel my neck muscles get angry.

It could be my job. I love my job. I love working with kids and putting on plays and listening intently as they describe the color of icing they had on their birthday cake. But sometimes pretending that each of their new discoveries is as exciting to you as to them can leave me searching for tylenol. I'm not talking about learning how to read a challenging word, or memorizing a difficult monologue- that's the good stuff that's easy to get excited for. But showering excitement every class over new shoes or pet iguanas can be difficult and draining. Realizing that sometimes you just don't care about Roddy the iguana can make a girl feel bad.

Or maybe it's nothing so easily defined in one group- maybe it's a cluster of little things. Thinking of unreturned phone calls, unanswered questions, not understanding how to file my taxes, searching for my favourite pair of mittens I lost , or sweating under a looming deadline I set for myself in regards to a project I started for fun. Maybe I'm tired because I keep making the same mistake- missing the same people I told myself I do not miss. Maybe I'm tired because I don't understand what's happening on Lost or because today it feels like I'm the only person at work having a bad hair day. Maybe it's all of those things, or none of them. Or maybe I just need a nap.

Truth in the Lies I tell myself

I always thought I was a good cook. Then I came home yesterday and attempted to make soup. I burnt it and then (in a blinding moment of clarity), thought I could still salvage some by adding water (Note: This was not me being a 'thrifty' cook, this was me being a 'too lazy to start again/ let's be adventurous' cook). That didn't work. I ended up eating a piece of gluten free toast and peanut butter on the kitchen floor feeling sorry for myself.

I've decided that cooking is like speaking french, if you don't practice it you lose it and suddenly you find yourself angry that you told a lie to yourself that you still believed. And you can't decide if you're more annoyed that you kept telling yourself something that wasn't true, or that you so readily believed it.

I decided to make a list of the lies I tell myself and the truth (if any) that is hidden in them. This is what I found...

Lie #1: I am a great cook
Truth: I'm good when I have all the ingredients, a glossy cookbook (with lots of pictures), multiple pans (for when I burn the first batch), an entire afternoon, the right apron and some inspiration (the food network does the trick). Meaning, I'm a great cook, once a year... always a on whim.

Lie #2: The worst pain I ever felt was a broken heart
Truth: The worst pain I ever felt was pulling all my neck muscles in grade 9 and having to wait a day before getting a brace. Broken hearts hurt when I think, pulled neck muscles hurt when I breathe. I can go without thinking.

Lie #3: I'm a great driver
Truth: This is sort of true. I'm great in the "I drive so slow even if I hit a grandmother she would be able to brush off the snow and shuffle away), but in terms of... "being aware" on the road, I suck. This is how I killed a duck and how big red became accessorized with all her scratches and dents.

Lie #4: I know a lot about Canadian politics
Truth: I just barely pass the 'citizenship test' that new immigrants into Canada have to take. I know this because I attempted to take it last night. The three branches of Canadian government? I could only name two. (The House of Commons and the Senate) The third? The Queen. But seriously, when's the last time she was mentioned without the name Helen Mirren attached?

Lie #5: I don't like cats
Truth: Liking cats and being single always seemed like the beginning of a joke that involved a punchline I wouldn't like. The truth is, I like cats. I like cats that like me. Of course I don't like cats as much as dogs, but I do like cats more than I like bunnies or goldfish, and that's saying something.

Lie #6: I believe absence makes the heart grow fonder
Truth: I believe absence makes the heart grow irritable, exhausted and (at times) cynical.

Lie #7: I have no regrets
Truth: I have huge, Grand Canyon regrets. Enough to fill a 10 story library with tattered journals, or displace all the water in the ocean or cover the rings of Saturn. I have regrets.

Lie #8: I remember.
Truth: I can't forget.

Lie #9: I find Ryan Seacrest unattractive
Truth: I'm not sure why, but admitting that I find him hugely appealing seems as wrong as saying you have a crush on your cousin. But there's something about the way he hugs all the contestants, manages to keep a straight face when they are truly horrible singers and the way he wears his jeans just right that makes me think I might love him. Or at least, given the opportunity, be best friends with him.

Lie #10: I'm a great dancer
Truth: Okay, that one is the truth. I am a great dancer.

Bits & Pieces

I had a conversation today that went something like this:

Me: I don’t really like nuts in salad. It seems wrong. Like putting relish on birthday cake.

T: Oh relish, I haven’t been able to have it since…

Me: Since when?

T: It’s a long story, but let’s just say I walked home missing my socks.

My everlasting fascination (re: prying obsession) into other peoples lives wanted to hear the story but time ran out (I was at work after all) and I missed hearing how one goes from underrated condiment to shoeless and hitchhiking. (Left to fill in the blanks, my mind imagined a story involving a plastic pool, donkeys, a pirate named Lubby and fireworks.) I realized that if I thought about my life, there were a million random bits and pieces- places, numbers, sayings and songs that reminded me of a stand-out, character shaping story that no one knew but me.

Quiche, tin foil, crazy carpeting, Davos, card games, fortune cookies, Charles Dickens, and a love for Russia each reminded me of good friends and insane activities- most of which would make my mother flush, or at least wring her hands like a dishtowel. I think the crazy carpeting tales would result in not only blushing, but also the asking “for the love of goodness, why?” repeatedly while wondering how it’s possible that we share DNA.

Filed under the category of “stupidity that still makes me blush”, I find the sharp memories of a paper hole punch, calamine lotion, my views on the ocean and Susan Sarandon. Dusty bottles of cooking wine, lemonade and my obsession with radio volume also make the cut and leave me shaking my head in both awe and amazement that I survived my youth in pursuit of misguided attempts at fun.

If I dig into the bank of “love or it’s cousins- lust and like”, I find myself immediately drawn to the thought of a math assignment. (Some memories fade, but I’m entirely convinced that one will stick with me forever.) My favourite pink sneakers, leather jackets, the smell of my mom’s laundry room and how it feels to wake up with the beach as your pillow, each also make me sigh with happiness.

Sorting through these bits and pieces and putting them in a category makes me understand why oatmeal cookies make me wistful, paper crowns still make me proud, and why I have a sneaking suspicion Seattle will always make me sad. The story I have of each, or more accurately- the story influenced by each, is more memorable than the actual item,- or place.

I glance around my office and wonder what random item found in here, what word I could say or song the radio could play that would prompt the people I know to divulge their own secret stories. Ones centered around relish and chaos, or South Bend Alabama and falling in love or a game of cricket and a sadness you’re not sure you will ever get over.

I imagine every story involves a pirate.

10 Lessons Learned From The Men I Know

1. You can never have too much hot sauce.
2. If you want something- initiate it.
3. Why it’s important to have transmission fluid checked.
4. How to not punch like a girl.
5. Sweats can be beautiful.
6. How to grout.
7. They don't know what they are doing either.
8. How to spit.
9. Regrets don’t equal mistakes.
10. I hold my breath when I sleep.