Grey Hairs Suck ~ and Other Revelations

I found another grey hair last night.

I think part of what is so shocking when I find a grey hair is that I'm not actually looking for it.  I'm usually doing my makeup and I'll see a glisten in the mirror out of the corner of my eye.  A wiry glisten and I'll just know.  "Oh no," I think.  Not again.

And of course I'll pull it out but that doesn't mean it wasn't there in the first place. 

Now I feel bad for all those times I told my mother I thought grey hair on a woman looked *distinguished*.  What a load of BS.  It looks old.  That's what it looks like.  Old.  Dye those mo-fos...that's my new motto.  Or the times I thought, "Wrinkles are just memories of laughter."  Again, BULL.  Wrinkles are signs that you squinted too much in the sun, or frowned.  Your skin is not so forgiving because it is old and so now your skin remembers every little thing. I will most definitely consider Botox (when I can afford it).

It's another reminder that 35 is waiting for me right around the corner.  It's another mid-life sign.

Despite that whole rant, I've had a little change of heart when it comes to my most recent *blah* phase.  Yes I am older than I've ever been. But that's not going to change.  Because now, I'm older than I was when I wrote that first sentence (geez, now I'm just freaking myself out).

I've had to remind myself of something very important that I happened to forget while in the midst of all this *old* turmoil.

Happiness is a Choice.  

Just as whether I want to be a blonde or brunette is a choice, I have to choose my point of view.  There are so many things in this life that can get you down...debt woes, self image problems, global warming, poverty, death...the list goes on and on.  You (or I) can choose to focus on those things, or you (I) can choose to focus on the blessings.  So there's a nasty rumour going around work about me (I know it's not true), so I'm a little bored at work (I can find challenges).  I am right where I'm meant to be right now.

And so I choose to be happy.  I choose to turn my frown upside down.  I choose to be the change I wish to see in the world.  

It's true that I've never been on a mission to Africa (like this book I'm reading right now, Kisses from Katie...I have permanent goosebumps from reading this woman's story.  I highly, highly, highly recommend it.  Like if you only read one book this year, read Kisses from Katie).  It's true I've not pulled a drowning man from the ocean.  It's true I've even witnessed a car accident and then driven away instead of giving my name as a witness (eeps, I still feel guilty about that one...)  I can choose to be kind to everyone, giving to those who seem to deserve it the least, and willing to make a difference.

It's the small things that matter.  Small things done with great love. 

I don't want to justify doing NOTHING.  Doing nothing is poor form when we're given this awesome experience called life.  But I do want to remind myself, mostly, that not everyone can be a brain surgeon.  Not everyone can run into a burning building and save a mother pregnant with triplets.  Not everyone can thwart terrorist attacks or make decisions for a country. 

Everyone can be kind.  Everyone can be thoughtful.  Everyone can be a listening ear.

I was getting so depressed because here I am working in mail.  For as far as my eye can see, there are parcels.  Boxes and boxes and boxes.  None of the boxes are filled with hearts for transplant.  Most of them are filled with purchases people bought on-line.  Whatever.  The point was I couldn't imagine anyone feeling called to work in a post office.  How could I make a difference in the world in a post office?  I started to think that no one really feels called to work in a gas station, either.  No one feels the need to haul garbage for a living.  Someone working in Tim Horton's probably didn't dream of serving coffee to people since they were little.  There are jobs that need to be done in this world that don't necessarily seem important.  It's not the job that matters, it is the attitude and care with which we do said job.  

So I can do a mundane job.  I can do a mundane job with a crappy attitude.  Or I can do a so-so job with a crazy, out of this world happy attitude that immediately disarms people and tears down walls they've built up over the years.  

I think the real tragedy would be missing out on those experiences. 

And finding another grey hair. 

That would also be a tragedy.

Blah, Blah, Blah

(Or Self Pep-Talk.)

 

For all of you, this will just sound like blah, blah, blah, consider yourself warned.

 

I had a few free hours tonight.  Q has gone to his dads for the evening, and I have 3 hours (well, 2 1/2 now) to do what ever I want.  I had an awesome plan. I was going to write for 3 (now 2 1/2) hours.  I was going to write and write and write and write. 

 

Because I am an author.  And that is what authors do.  They write.  They write things like books and poems and short stories.  They update their blogs on a daily basis with witty thoughts and ideas.  They have comments on their posts.  Well deserved comments.

 

Yet here I sit.  In front of the TV.  It's on.  No ideas.  Well, one idea.  But every time I decided to write said idea, nothing comes out.  I just sit there and stare at a blank screen. 

 

Well, it's not blank.  Actually, I downloaded this program that is supposed to help you put all your ideas together when you're writing a book.  It's a virtual pin board, with virtual recipe cards that you can write your ideas on and then smush them all together in to one.  But it's a 30 day trial, and only the days you use it count, so I don't want to use it until I get a really, really good idea.  So it sits on my desktop, virtually unused. 

 

Ironic, huh?

 

So I figure if I just keep writing *I'm a writer*, an author...that I will believe it and have the confidence in myself to do this. 

 

This.  This.

 

What this? 

 

Write a book?  I mean that's not really scary in and of itself, is it?  No.  No it is not.  If Snooki and Tori Spelling can write books, then I surely can.  Anyone can write a book.  Not many people can write a really, really, really good book. 

 

And that's what I want to do, I want to write a really, really, really good book.  A book that everyone talks about.  A book that makes the best sellers list.  Ohhhhh, a book that book clubs discuss.  That's what I want.  It's not because I want to be famous.  It's because I want to leave a lasting mark that is truly amazing.

 

Again with the effin' midlife crisis. 

 

I'm an author.  An author.  I write.  I write books and such.  Because that's what authors do.  They write.

 

They rewrite.

 

They write and rewrite and rewrite and rewrite.

 

They get rejection letters that say, "Your story sucks.  Sorry."

And then write again.

 

I'm totally okay with that, because I realize it's not a personal attack, and it's not a failure.  It's a way to grow, and I'm not going to grow at all if I just sit on this couch, staring at that t.v. every single day.

 

So, as an author, I'm going to turn the TV. off.  I've got roughly 2 hours left.  I'm going to turn off the TV and write for 2 hours.  Because I am an author.  And that is what authors do.

 

They write.

 

But first I'm going to watch *Modern Family* because geez, that show is hilarious (even though it's a rerun).

 

Authors need inspiration.  Hilarious inspiration.  And then I'll have 1 1/2 hours to write pure genius, because that's what writers do.

 

And that's what I do.  I write.  I'm a writer. 

 

Back to School 2012

When I was young (because now I'm old) I loved back to school.  The new clothes, the school supplies, the excitement of learning, being the teacher's pet, and seeing my friends - so, so exciting for me.  People think I'm crazy when I say this, but I loooooove the smell of school supplies.  They do, they smell.  Mmmmmmm, like heaven, I think.    I even worked in a stationery store fueled by my weird obsession with pens and pencils and paper....ohhhhh, the possibilities!!

Now that I have a child of my own, however, it's a completely different experience.  I had to start warning Q a week before the start of school that it was going to happen, just so he wouldn't have a huge freak out the night before.  While I'm excited for the structure that back to school brings, Q is resenting the fact that he cannot spend his days playing video games and going to the beach.

The night before brought huge anxiety...all the what-ifs that we all experience when we don't know what to expect.  My poor little boy has the worry gene of his mother, and so we rationalized all evening about the fear and the actuality.  It's been a good lesson for me as well.  What am I missing out on in life because I fear all the silly what-ifs that most likely won't happen? 

The day before school we took advantage of the beautiful weather and beautiful scenery.  This is the city I fell in love with when I first moved here 9 years ago!! 


This...


 

...and this will be Heaven for me. Sun, Sand

                                and the Ocean

 

 

Proof I do feed this kid!!

 Peace

You try getting 3 boys to smile at the same time!



 

 

Best friends make everything better, even if they don't want to smile for the camera!  J is an awesome gift from God for my little man!

How was your back to school experience?  Tears?  Parties?  

Somewhere in the Middle of Nowhere

I'm not so good at playing the role of the victim.  Even when I am *the victim* I try really, really, really hard to turn things around so that I'm in control of the situation. 

There is this woman at work and whenever I'd see her, I'd throw out the customary, "How are you?" to which she'd put on this sad smile, look at the floor and say, "Oh, you know.  Life."  What do you say to that?  Because I always felt like saying, "Suck it up, Princess.  Life is what you make it.  You aren't getting my pity."  Instead, I'd smile and nod, but deep down I really just wanted to smack her.  Too many people spend their lives waiting to be rescued from some unknown evil, when all they really had to do is say, "ENOUGH".  Sometimes it's easier to just lay down and play dead, I guess. 

When my ex and I split, I had $300 for a deposit on the one bedroom basement suite I was moving into with Q.  That and about $10,000 in debt.  He kept the house and the boat and the Porsche and the Jeep and the bank account.  Honestly, most of it was his before we were a couple and so even though I was entitled to half, I walked away with absolutely nothing.  I had an old bed that a friend of a friend gave to me because their son had outgrown it.  Q and I would roll into the middle every night, but I couldn't afford to buy a new mattress.  I didn't own a couch for 6 months because I didn't have the money to buy one.  I didn't want to be the victim.  I didn't want to be the vengeful ex that went for the jugular.  I wanted what I had to be mine.

And now it is.  Everything I have now, I worked very hard for.  I became the hero of my own story.

I like being in control.  I like being in control of every single situation there is.  Traffic jam with budgers?  Ya, I want to control that like nobodies business.  Line ups in the grocery store?  On it.  Skytrain?  Done it. 

The other day, my momma and I went to the great US of A for some back to school shopping for Q.  We drove for what seemed like forever looking for this outlet mall that I could have sworn was like right there but we could not find it.  When my momma followed yet another one of my *unhelpful* directional suggestions, I finally blurted out, "Why are you listening to me????  You know I'm directionally challenged!!!" and she said slowly...."Because I'm afraid you'll get mad at me if I don't listen to you."

Hmmphf. 

That is so ridiculous.

I totally...

*eeps*

...would.  Yup.  Sad, but true.  I started to think about it.  I would really get mad at the situation (of course, not her...) if she didn't listen to me, even though I knew I didn't have a clue what I was talking about. 

I'm a little bit of a control freak.

It was pointed out to me the other day, quite bluntly in fact, that it would not be fair for any man to be in a relationship with me because of my *control* issues.

Hang on just a minute...I don't have issues....

Oh no...I think it's true and I kind of do have issues. 

Again, being with my ex, having absolutely no control over anything - funny story...I remember sitting at home waiting all day for my ex to be *ready* to do something with me.  Literally just waiting, just to have him say he was tired and didn't feel like doing anything - made me think being totally in control of everything was the only way to go.  In my crazy plan to make sure I'm not the victim ever, ever again, I've swung to the extreme opposite and I've become the superhero. 

The scary thing is that superheros aren't real.

So instead, I've become what?  Someone who likes to be in control of every situation.  Despite this not only being impossible, it's gotta be a little frustrating for people around me too.  What am I missing out on, by controlling things when I could just go with the flow?  What is in store for me that is beyond my control?  How much better/easier/awesome would it be to just say, "Okey dokey, bring it on.  I don't know what *it* is, but I can totally roll with it..."

Or

"Uh, I'm lost.  Maybe I should ask for help..."

Or

"Hey, whatever you want - Sushi or Greek.  I'm cool with it..."

Or

"No, it's totally okay.  You don't have to load the dishwasher with all the forks together and all the spoons together and all the knives together.  You can even mix the mugs and the glasses, if you want.  Even though it makes sense to me, and it is so much easier when you're putting them away.  Whatever, mix them.  It will be fun.  Totally."  (Just so you know, it was painful just typing that.)

So we'll start with the little things and get bigger as we go along.  It's exciting for me to see what is waiting for me beyond my control.  It's like when you're watching a movie and a whole fabulous situation is brewing but the main character can't see it yet and they're just pluggin' along all oblivious.  There is a really fabulous situation brewing for me right now, I just have to believe it's true.  I can't see it yet but wow, it's going to be amazing!

And the best part is I won't be a victim or a control freak. 

I'll be somewhere in the middle.

I'll just be me.

Just a Job??

I keep having this dream that I am stuck at work and I cannot find my keys.  The employees are all ignoring me or laughing, but no one is helping me and I am stuck at work with no way out.  And it's snowing out.  There is seriously a lot of snow for the lower mainland.  But this dream, it plays over and over every night.  I'm pretty sure we don't need a book of dreams to decipher this what it means.  I feel trapped.  Trapped with no way out, and no one to help me.

 

Let me preface all this by saying that I feel incredibly fortunate for having this job that pays me so well for what I do, gives job stability like the airlines never did, and allows me to be home in the evening with my son.  It truly has been a blessing.

 

I'm just getting itchy.

 

No...not itchy...I'm getting *the* itch.

 

Again, I'm not going to go into specifics, because I can see that causing more harm than good.  I'm even questioning whether blogging about it is a smart idea.  Unfortunately (or fortunately) this is my outlet - my way to vent and air all my dirty laundry.  And seeing as how I've been such a good girl as of late, my laundry isn't all that dirty.  Maybe someone else is going thru a similar struggle and so sharing will not only make me feel a little bit better, but it will help someone else feel not so alone. 

 

What seems even more daunting is that I have been looking at job search sites and there is absolutely nothing out there.  I have a couple rules when *looking* for a job...if I don't know what it means, then I can't apply for it...

 

1. A "Senior Java Developer" for example- I used to work for "Second Cup" - but I'm pretty sure that's not the Java they're referring to, I'm just going to pass that one by. 

 

2. Any job that requires a degree, I also skip those ones...I mean, if they're going to be that picky...I could totally *do* the job.  I mean, how much do psychologists really learn in school?  I have life experience, isn't that kind of the same thing?  Oh, and I'm a really good listener...  

 

3. Any job that includes milking animals is completely out of the question.  True story: One job listing was for a Milker.  Yes, like as in milking animals.  And it only paid minimum wage.  I am going to expect a whole lot more money for milking animals all day long. 

 

4. Or "Assistant"...I don't even care to what...those of you who know me, know that I do not have the type of personality that *assists* very well.  I tend to supervise very well, but you want me to assist you?  No, I think it would be the other way around, thank you very much.  Or a *third key holder at Ardene*...so if they need someone to open or close the cheap jewellery store you would not be the first, nor the second, but the third person they would call.  Talk about bottom of the ladder, huh?

 

5. If I'm not good at it in real life, I can't do it for a job...ie: financial adviser..."Oh, girl.  It's Coach?  It's 10% off?  It's yours, use your credit card...seriously, who cares.  That is a great deal."

 

Exposure Prevention Specialist?  Dude, do not go in there - sounds easy to me.  Lumber Trader?  I'll take your branch for my stick?

 

Side note: I think that being an exterminator would really come in handy right about now, seeing as how a mouse just ran by me towards our fireplace.  I've been flirting with my Orkin man at work, Shawn...maybe he'll swing by and take care of this little problem for me.  One more ghetto story for my kid when he makes it big...

 

I guess this is just one more step into the *midlife* crisis.  Hope it gets better on the other side of the hill I'm about to cross over.  Maybe I just have to learn to be content where I am.

 

And seriously, anyone have any ideas how to get rid of mice???

*Christ*ian's Victory

About a week ago, I blogged about Christian, the little boy I've never met, who has been fighting cancer since he was 3.  Previously thought to be in remission, they had just found an inoperable tumour in his bowels.

 

Things took a horrible turn for the worse when his tumour, in less than a week, grew to such a size that it was blocking his entire bowels.  It became clear that emergency surgery would have to be done that night in order to connect his stomach to the bowel below the tumour.  This would just make him more comfortable until he died.  The surgeon had operated on Christian before and had a special connection with him and the family.  She was leaving early the next morning - on vacation or for her job, I don't know, but the situation came very quickly and they had no opportunity to *make peace* with it or say those things you hope you have the chance to say, if/when the end comes very quickly.

 

Hours into the surgery, the surgeon came out to tell Christian's parents the news.  They had not been able to reroute his bowels around the tumour.

 

Because they had been able to fully remove the tumour!!!!!

 

Every last little bit!! There was nothing left of it. 

 

This is absolutely nothing short of a miracle.  It had been determined previously that the tumour was attached to vital organs and therefore inoperable.  Inexplicably, the tumour grew so fast that it seemed hopeless.  Instead, the fact that it grew so fast meant that a) the surgeon was not out of town and could do the surgery and b) they attempted surgery when they wouldn't have early.

 

So, for those of you who prayed for little Christian's healing....thank you!  Your prayers were answered, and while they're not out of the woods yet, Christian is cancer free!!!!  I have to admit, I really wanted to believe, but it just seemed so daunting and impossible.  Even as I read her blog, I was scrolling to the bottom just to see if Christian had made it through, fearing the worst.  Sometimes worst case scenarios turn out to be just one piece of a perfectly planned best case scenario.

 

It reminds me of a documentary I watched on conjoined twins being separated.  It turned out they shared a liver, with one twin supplying the blood to it.  They separated it, believing they were saving one twin while sacrificing the other.  The doctors watched as the liver of the second twin began pink up.  One doctor carefully lifted the liver to look underneath, and small blood vessels had miraculously formed all around the liver and were supplying blood to it.  They showed it on the camera, it was amazing.  It was a miracle.  It was something the doctors could not do.  It was something only God could do.

 

For those of you who want to know more....

 

 http://christiansfight.blogspot.ca/2012/08/view-from-top.html

Mid-Life

I think I'm going through a mid-life crisis. 

 

People laugh when I say that, but I'm almost 35...living til 70 isn't totally unrealistic - I'm half way there.  And maybe people are just laughing because it's awkward when someone announces that they're experiencing a mid-life crisis. They're all like, "Ma'am, I'm just here to pack your groceries..."

 

No....I don't tell complete strangers I'm going through a mid-life crisis.  That would just be crazy.

 

But seriously, I think I'm going through a mid-life crisis.

 

If I'm half way there, what the eff have I done with my life????? 

 

In December, it will be 6 years since I've been in a relationship.  Six years. 

 

Six years.  Every minute I'm alone, it gets easier to stay alone.  I have major control issues, in that I like to control everything.  No man is going to want to be with a control freak.  And there aren't even any prospects.  Nothing.  I got nothing.

 

In November, I'm 35.  I can feel my ovaries shrivelling up.  My dreams of having a family with lots and lots of babies is quickly shrivelling up right along with them.  Don't get me wrong, I love my baby boy.  I love him more than I ever thought was possible.  He's not my baby boy anymore though, he's 8.  Eight!!!  I embarrass him.  He rolls his eyes at me.  His hand in my hand is almost the same size as mine. He comes up to my shoulder.  His feet smell (although his feet have always been smelly, even as a newborn!)

 

My job, it pays the bills.  But it doesn't inspire me, it's not fulfilling.  I'm not making a difference in the world.  I'm not saving anyone.  But it pays the bills.  So, that's something, right?

 

I just feel so unfulfilled.  I feel like life is passing me by.  Time has swooped in, and it is taking prisoners - ME!!!! 

 

I had big plans.  I really did.  I was going to be the Prime Minister.  Which, okay, sounds a little unrealistic now, but I really believed it when I was 17.  I want to go back and go to University with some focus instead of spending ridiculous amounts of money on nothing.  I want to go back and save money so I could be a home owner instead of a Coach purse owner.  Because, dammit, I can't live in a Coach purse, even though it is really, really pretty...and fuchsia.

 

Do you think I should go buy a pink Corvette.  Maybe that will make me feel better.  Oh, or a motor cycle?  Okay, I don't have money for that.  And I'm not crazy.  I'm bored.  Not crazy.

 

Maybe I am crazy...

 

What am I going to do?  How do I make a difference???  How do I make my mark?  Geez, sometimes being a dog just seems so much easier.  I could pee in the corner and boom - fulfilled.