Day 6 of my sinus infection...please send chicken soup and trashy magazines to: Mucus Blob Girl Shoebox Condo The Tundra aka. Canada When I went to see my doctor to get antibiotics, I mentioned that I had dropped by my work to "show face" aka. stop the squawking cubicle hens from spreading rumours about me… Continue reading The magic of saying things out loud.
I've recently received two gifts that have quickly become the cornerstone of my morning routine: a vintage vinyl record player and an espresso machine. Every morning, I crawl out of bed 30 minutes earlier than usual, and stumble sleepily into my living room to strategically select a record from my quickly growing collection to set… Continue reading Slowing down automated living with rituals.
I did it again. I put so much imaginary pressure on myself to "escape" the cubicle within a certain time frame, that I began to loathe the process. Suddenly the 9-5 grind didn't seem like such a sucker deal anymore. It always comes down to the same problem: taking on too much at once, making… Continue reading The end of the countdown.
(I never understood Dilbert comics as a kid, until my life became a Dilbert comic. And now I laugh so hard I cry a little whenever one of my fellow cube slaves graces my inbox with one.)
...and if that doesn't work, I CLEARLY have a bright future ahead of me in the professional world of doodling.
During one of the the last few unsettling long-distance Skype calls with Mr. B, as I stressed about work/friends/family/whatever else was pissing me off on that given day, he asked me if I thought I had lost my joie de vivre. Out of all the conversations we ever had, this one consistently haunts me. Irrational… Continue reading Finding my “joie de vivre.”
It has been exactly 25 days since Mr. B killed the dream. During this time, I have eaten my weight in ramen, possibly exhausted Canada's supply of imported merlot, watched 10 seasons of Friends and listened to more Kelly Clarkson than I care to admit to. I am happy to report I am officially a… Continue reading Realization #4 – I must embark on a “Year of Self”
When Mr. B arrived, all that was on my mind were the lazy Sunday mornings we would inevitably spend in a quaint European village, in our modest but cozy home with the door I would insist on painting red. The memories we had not yet made, were the ones that kept me hooked. In reality,… Continue reading Realization #3 – There is no path to happiness. Happiness is the path.
There. I said it. I am a grown-ass, 27-year-old woman who is scared of being alone. Something I truly didn't realize until Mr. B skipped into (and subsequently out of) my life. For the past decade, I have methodically steamrolled from one relationship into the next. Oh, shit ain't working with Mr. Right Now? That's… Continue reading Realization #2 – I’m scared of being alone.
I'm taking a quick time-out today from boldly declaring the second of my three major realizations and from brazenly setting forth into my new life as an independent, bad-ass bitch (sorry, Diane Farr). To sum up: Today was shit. Works sucks. I'm out of wine. I'm hyper sensitive and every-day situations are stressing me out.… Continue reading Time-out: A pity party is a shitty party.