So I'm in New York City, for those who didn't know.
That's a lot of you, because I didn't actually know for sure myself until last Friday that I'd be flying out on Monday and returning Thursday of this week to help run a gold conference held at the St. Regis Hotel in upper crust, mid-town New York.
Yup. That's where I am right now.
It's been an incredibly packed couple of days filled with last-minute, late-night admin work for the conference; running around all day making sure everything is running smoothly; basking in the insane luxury of the hotel (we have a butler!) and enjoying lavish dinners and drinks with co-workers and clients in the evenings.
I'm looking forward to tomorrow night, which is my own to do with as I please. A lot of my co-workers are heading to London to run the conference again overseas, but I'm not needed for that. Instead, I get to spend an extra night in New York doing whatever I wish before flying home Thursday afternoon. Broadway show? New York Knicks game at Madison Square Garden? Drinks at a jazz bar? Window shopping on Fifth Avenue?
I haven't decided. All I know is that this is quite possibly the only time in my life that I will be able to spend a night in the St. Regis (at $559/night!) on very generous company dime, and I intend to dress up extremely stylishly, high heeled boots and red lipstick intact, and really enjoy my evening.
I'll keep you all posted. I told you I've been busy.
Ah, the life of high finance.
Why am I leaving it again?
Tuesday, February 15, 2011
Wednesday, February 09, 2011
I'll think for myself, thanks
I had an extremely unpleasant experience yesterday.
So unpleasant, in fact, that it still has me bristling when I think about it.
And clearly, I'm still thinking about it.
It was about one o'clock in the afternoon when I decided to grab a Jugo Juice smoothie as a midday pick-me-up after two weeks of being effectively chained to my desk eleven hours a day. I was standing in line at the counter, perusing the menu, when I realized that the guy standing next to me was unabashedly undressing me with his eyes. I met his frank stare with a somewhat icy glare and continued looking at the menu.
Suddenly he spoke.
"What are you going to have?" he asked.
"I'm not sure yet," I responded.
"Well, you should have what I'm having," he said firmly.
I was immediately put off by his entitled tone, his arrogant, obnoxious, viscous demeanor; the way he was fully leaning against the counter, by that point, legs crossed; looking so self-satisfied and self-assured that I wanted to smack him.
But I was polite.
"What are you having?" I enquired.
I honestly don't remember his response - something to do with "vegetables only" (because fruit, lo and behold, has too much sugar) "no ice" (because they give you less when there's ice in the cup) "unfiltered" (because apparently, filtering it removes something vital) and "with no calories" (because clearly, an all-fruit drink is chock-full of dreadfully unhealthy calories).
"I think I'll stick to fruit," I said with what I hoped was a dismissive tone, and turned back to the menu, fairly certain that the conversation was over.
Seconds later.
"Have you decided yet?"
"No, I haven't," I replied with a tight smile, "I'm still looking."
And then he said it.
"Why don't you just stop thinking and let me think for you instead?"
It was more of a statement, even, than a question.
inner monologue, an escalating rant in my head:
Uh, what? WHAT?
What kind of woman do you take me for?
What kind of woman do you think I am that I can't make a decision for myself?
What kind of woman do you think I am to want or need you to make up my mind?
What gives you the right to think that you should or even could ask me that?
Who exactly do you think you are?
actual dialogue, laced with as much sarcasm as I dared:
"Thank you very much, but I actually prefer to think for myself."
I then turned my back to him, rudeness be damned.
It was only a split second before I felt his eyes burning into my butt.
Unbelievable.
Maybe it's that I grew up in a home where I was encouraged to think for myself; to make educated, intelligent, informed decisions; to critically analyze information to reach my own conclusions. Maybe it's that my previous experience has made me super susceptible to that sort of over-controlling, overbearing type of guy. Maybe it's that now, with J. (who would never dream of thinking for me and thinking that it was okay) I've forgotten that that sort of man even really exists.
Needless to say, I was rather appalled.
It left a bitter taste in my mouth all day.
Even after my deliciously fruity Pom-e-berry Superfood Smoothie of blackberries, blueberries, peaches and pomegranate juice. Yummy.
Can anyone else relate?
So unpleasant, in fact, that it still has me bristling when I think about it.
And clearly, I'm still thinking about it.
It was about one o'clock in the afternoon when I decided to grab a Jugo Juice smoothie as a midday pick-me-up after two weeks of being effectively chained to my desk eleven hours a day. I was standing in line at the counter, perusing the menu, when I realized that the guy standing next to me was unabashedly undressing me with his eyes. I met his frank stare with a somewhat icy glare and continued looking at the menu.
Suddenly he spoke.
"What are you going to have?" he asked.
"I'm not sure yet," I responded.
"Well, you should have what I'm having," he said firmly.
I was immediately put off by his entitled tone, his arrogant, obnoxious, viscous demeanor; the way he was fully leaning against the counter, by that point, legs crossed; looking so self-satisfied and self-assured that I wanted to smack him.
But I was polite.
"What are you having?" I enquired.
I honestly don't remember his response - something to do with "vegetables only" (because fruit, lo and behold, has too much sugar) "no ice" (because they give you less when there's ice in the cup) "unfiltered" (because apparently, filtering it removes something vital) and "with no calories" (because clearly, an all-fruit drink is chock-full of dreadfully unhealthy calories).
"I think I'll stick to fruit," I said with what I hoped was a dismissive tone, and turned back to the menu, fairly certain that the conversation was over.
Seconds later.
"Have you decided yet?"
"No, I haven't," I replied with a tight smile, "I'm still looking."
And then he said it.
"Why don't you just stop thinking and let me think for you instead?"
It was more of a statement, even, than a question.
inner monologue, an escalating rant in my head:
Uh, what? WHAT?
What kind of woman do you take me for?
What kind of woman do you think I am that I can't make a decision for myself?
What kind of woman do you think I am to want or need you to make up my mind?
What gives you the right to think that you should or even could ask me that?
Who exactly do you think you are?
actual dialogue, laced with as much sarcasm as I dared:
"Thank you very much, but I actually prefer to think for myself."
I then turned my back to him, rudeness be damned.
It was only a split second before I felt his eyes burning into my butt.
Unbelievable.
Maybe it's that I grew up in a home where I was encouraged to think for myself; to make educated, intelligent, informed decisions; to critically analyze information to reach my own conclusions. Maybe it's that my previous experience has made me super susceptible to that sort of over-controlling, overbearing type of guy. Maybe it's that now, with J. (who would never dream of thinking for me and thinking that it was okay) I've forgotten that that sort of man even really exists.
Needless to say, I was rather appalled.
It left a bitter taste in my mouth all day.
Even after my deliciously fruity Pom-e-berry Superfood Smoothie of blackberries, blueberries, peaches and pomegranate juice. Yummy.
Can anyone else relate?
Monday, February 07, 2011
back to the future
So maybe it's just the every day normal to all of you, but for five-day-phoneless-li'l-ol'-me here, having my Blackberry working again today has been pretty fantastic. No more, "Hey, J., can you text my sister for me? Can you call my parents' house? Can you check the bus schedule? Can you email me that link to check out later on my laptop (because clearly, there is no instant internet browsing gratification sans Blackberry in hand)?"
I thought I'd follow up the last post by informing you all of the wonderful news: five days in a bed of rice officially rendered my phone good as new when I finally dared to turn it on last night. The watermarks under the screen have vanished, the battery charged perfectly, the browser is completely functional, and I can still hear the person on the other end of the phone during conversation - I was slightly afraid that the phone would make the transmission of voices sound garbled and, well, kind of water-logged. Call it paranoia. In fact, it's not so.
Lots going on over here. Not much time to blog about it, but I'm promising that when this month is over, with lots more time on my hands, I will endeavor to make it a daily activity. Probably involving a blog facelift. Possibly even involving a new blog entirely, leaving this one, dear as it is to my heart, in the nostalgic past.
I want to turn the page, to enter the next chapter of my life feeling more open, less tentative and private about my history. I want to feel the freedom to post pictures of my present, to speak of my desires for the future, and to look back at the past, when I do, with reflections and ruminations that are more hopeful than hurting.
Besides which, after spending countless hours in the last few weeks choosing paint and decor, I definitely want to post before-and-after pictures of the new place.
Hurry up, March. Hurry up, exhilarating and exciting future.
As for you, February; my comfortable, contented, peaceful present:
Please don't go too quickly. I really will miss you when you're gone.
I thought I'd follow up the last post by informing you all of the wonderful news: five days in a bed of rice officially rendered my phone good as new when I finally dared to turn it on last night. The watermarks under the screen have vanished, the battery charged perfectly, the browser is completely functional, and I can still hear the person on the other end of the phone during conversation - I was slightly afraid that the phone would make the transmission of voices sound garbled and, well, kind of water-logged. Call it paranoia. In fact, it's not so.
Lots going on over here. Not much time to blog about it, but I'm promising that when this month is over, with lots more time on my hands, I will endeavor to make it a daily activity. Probably involving a blog facelift. Possibly even involving a new blog entirely, leaving this one, dear as it is to my heart, in the nostalgic past.
I want to turn the page, to enter the next chapter of my life feeling more open, less tentative and private about my history. I want to feel the freedom to post pictures of my present, to speak of my desires for the future, and to look back at the past, when I do, with reflections and ruminations that are more hopeful than hurting.
Besides which, after spending countless hours in the last few weeks choosing paint and decor, I definitely want to post before-and-after pictures of the new place.
Hurry up, March. Hurry up, exhilarating and exciting future.
As for you, February; my comfortable, contented, peaceful present:
Please don't go too quickly. I really will miss you when you're gone.
Wednesday, February 02, 2011
really. really?
This morning, getting ready for work in the middle of what is being alternately called Snowpocalypse, Snowmaggedon and/or Snowtorious B.I.G. (a.k.a. the giant storm that has hit the entire eastern coast of North America), the absolute unthinkable happened.
I was putting on the final touches of lip gloss and checking my hair one last time when my Blackberry slid off my bathroom counter...
I was putting on the final touches of lip gloss and checking my hair one last time when my Blackberry slid off my bathroom counter...
into the toilet.
Goodness gracious me, does one ever go into high alert when the single most useful tool of communication in one's life is suddenly rendered effectively useless. It's also irritating when one has just acquired said useful tool barely a month prior, after having used non-expensive, non-essential cell phones for years.
I apologize, therefore, if I'm unavailable for the next few days.
After a thorough blow-dry of every single piece of Blackberry paraphernalia I could possibly take apart, the pieces of my lovely little device are now sitting in an air-tight canister of rice. For the next 72 hours.
If this ridiculous and necessary thing doesn't work after that, who knows what will happen? With imminent moving, approaching job-leaving, and a million other small costs, a brand new Blackberry is not at the top of my list of things to buy.
So, like I said.
Really. Really?
If this ridiculous and necessary thing doesn't work after that, who knows what will happen? With imminent moving, approaching job-leaving, and a million other small costs, a brand new Blackberry is not at the top of my list of things to buy.
So, like I said.
Really. Really?
Friday, January 21, 2011
doors closing, window opening
When God closes a door he opens a window, a window
He opens a window so I can see
He's working it out
The very best for me
He opens a window just for me
Yesterday was a bad day. A really bad day. A day so bad that when I got home, after 10pm, and overturned my deliciously prepared snack (Balsamic & Basil Triscuits topped with sliced tomato, dijon mustard, garlic and drizzled with balsamic vinaigrette) all over J. before I even took a bite, that was it. I called it quits on the day. I cleaned up the mess, silently grabbed my book, and headed to bed...where J. found me an hour later, in tears, curled into the fetal position.
I said it was a bad day. Don't judge.
I went to sleep silently begging God to please, please, make today better. I wasn't angry yesterday, I wasn't frustrated, I didn't get mad or yell or scream or take things out on anybody. Thank goodness. I was, however, demoralized and discouraged. I needed something hopeful to happen today.
All day yesterday, I felt doors closing. Some just plain shut me out, leaving me feeling bereft on the doorstep of places I once felt at home. Others seemed to be, like garage doors, trapping me into a dark, enclosed space with no means of escape. Still others felt like I was entering into a long hallway, doors on either end, but possessing no key for either.
This morning, I woke up determined that today would be a better day. I woke up with thanksgiving that mercies are new every morning, that I'm still here and I'm still okay. That's the thing about faith. Almost immediately, hope emerged. I hesistate to discuss details any further until there is certain confirmation, but still, there it was: unlikely, unexpected, yet real and tangible and, above all, uplifting.
When I was a child, my family owned a tape cassette of The Dreamer, a far more "Christian" musical version of the biblical story of Joseph than the better-known Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat. This song, from that musical, has been stuck in my head all day.
For anyone out there looking for hope...
The dawn will come. A brand new day, a brand new song in your heart.
When doubt and disappointment hide the morning sun
When all my dreams have ended, all my songs are sung
His spirit soars within me, every doubt is gone
I see a new horizon
I sing a brand new song
For in his perfect timing up ahead a light is shining
And I know the dawn will be arriving very soon
When God closes a door he opens a window, a window
He opens a window so I can see
He's working it out
The very best for me
He opens a window just for me
When every road I travel leads back to where I've been
When fear about tomorrow settles deep within
He gives me new direction and takes the fear away
He opens up the future and brings a brand new day
A brand new day
For in his perfect timing up ahead a light is shining
And I know the dawn will be arriving very soon
When God closes a door he opens a window, a window
He opens a window so I can see
He's working it out
The very best for me
He opens a window just for me
He Opens A Window,
from The Dreamer
He opens a window so I can see
He's working it out
The very best for me
He opens a window just for me
Yesterday was a bad day. A really bad day. A day so bad that when I got home, after 10pm, and overturned my deliciously prepared snack (Balsamic & Basil Triscuits topped with sliced tomato, dijon mustard, garlic and drizzled with balsamic vinaigrette) all over J. before I even took a bite, that was it. I called it quits on the day. I cleaned up the mess, silently grabbed my book, and headed to bed...where J. found me an hour later, in tears, curled into the fetal position.
I said it was a bad day. Don't judge.
I went to sleep silently begging God to please, please, make today better. I wasn't angry yesterday, I wasn't frustrated, I didn't get mad or yell or scream or take things out on anybody. Thank goodness. I was, however, demoralized and discouraged. I needed something hopeful to happen today.
All day yesterday, I felt doors closing. Some just plain shut me out, leaving me feeling bereft on the doorstep of places I once felt at home. Others seemed to be, like garage doors, trapping me into a dark, enclosed space with no means of escape. Still others felt like I was entering into a long hallway, doors on either end, but possessing no key for either.
This morning, I woke up determined that today would be a better day. I woke up with thanksgiving that mercies are new every morning, that I'm still here and I'm still okay. That's the thing about faith. Almost immediately, hope emerged. I hesistate to discuss details any further until there is certain confirmation, but still, there it was: unlikely, unexpected, yet real and tangible and, above all, uplifting.
When I was a child, my family owned a tape cassette of The Dreamer, a far more "Christian" musical version of the biblical story of Joseph than the better-known Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat. This song, from that musical, has been stuck in my head all day.
For anyone out there looking for hope...
The dawn will come. A brand new day, a brand new song in your heart.
When doubt and disappointment hide the morning sun
When all my dreams have ended, all my songs are sung
His spirit soars within me, every doubt is gone
I see a new horizon
I sing a brand new song
For in his perfect timing up ahead a light is shining
And I know the dawn will be arriving very soon
When God closes a door he opens a window, a window
He opens a window so I can see
He's working it out
The very best for me
He opens a window just for me
When every road I travel leads back to where I've been
When fear about tomorrow settles deep within
He gives me new direction and takes the fear away
He opens up the future and brings a brand new day
A brand new day
For in his perfect timing up ahead a light is shining
And I know the dawn will be arriving very soon
When God closes a door he opens a window, a window
He opens a window so I can see
He's working it out
The very best for me
He opens a window just for me
He Opens A Window,
from The Dreamer
Thursday, January 13, 2011
change is gonna come
It's been a long, a long time coming but I know
A change is gonna come, oh yes it will
A new year.
A new start.
And change is coming. More than one change, actually. Many changes.
In the next six weeks...
I will leave a job I have worked at for three years.
I will attempt to market and perform my music full-time.
I will figure out what, exactly, I want to do with the rest of my professional life.
I will apply for further post-graduate school.
I will move.
I will move.
Amidst all of the changes, that is by far the most recent, most exhilarating and terrifying development. This morning, J. and I signed an 18-month lease for the second floor of a beautiful mansion-turned-duplex in Forest Hill.
He will move in February.
I will move in March.
I'll no doubt rave ceaselessly for the next couple of months about just how unbelievably gorgeous this place is, how incredibly lucky we are to have found it, and how insanely excited we are to paint, furnish and decorate all 1250 square feet of it in the very near future. I'll no doubt document both the overwhelming excitement and the nagging fears I have of beginning life with someone again, and work through my angst and trepidation in the process.
For now, I'm trying to remember how in the last couple of years, in the middle of a season of continuous stagnancy, of little-to-no change, I desperately craved something different. This promises to be an entire season, an entire year, even, of change, and my comfortably complacent self is yelling very loudly,
But I am.
And change is definitely coming.
There've been times where I thought
I couldn't last for long
But now I think I'm able to carry on
It's been a long, a long time coming but I know
A change is gonna come, oh yes it will
A Change is Gonna Come,
as sung by Lauryn Hill
A change is gonna come, oh yes it will
A new year.
A new start.
And change is coming. More than one change, actually. Many changes.
In the next six weeks...
I will leave a job I have worked at for three years.
I will attempt to market and perform my music full-time.
I will figure out what, exactly, I want to do with the rest of my professional life.
I will apply for further post-graduate school.
I will move.
I will move.
Amidst all of the changes, that is by far the most recent, most exhilarating and terrifying development. This morning, J. and I signed an 18-month lease for the second floor of a beautiful mansion-turned-duplex in Forest Hill.
He will move in February.
I will move in March.
I'll no doubt rave ceaselessly for the next couple of months about just how unbelievably gorgeous this place is, how incredibly lucky we are to have found it, and how insanely excited we are to paint, furnish and decorate all 1250 square feet of it in the very near future. I'll no doubt document both the overwhelming excitement and the nagging fears I have of beginning life with someone again, and work through my angst and trepidation in the process.
For now, I'm trying to remember how in the last couple of years, in the middle of a season of continuous stagnancy, of little-to-no change, I desperately craved something different. This promises to be an entire season, an entire year, even, of change, and my comfortably complacent self is yelling very loudly,
"Wait! STOP! Slow down! I'm not ready!"
And change is definitely coming.
There've been times where I thought
I couldn't last for long
But now I think I'm able to carry on
It's been a long, a long time coming but I know
A change is gonna come, oh yes it will
A Change is Gonna Come,
as sung by Lauryn Hill
Saturday, December 11, 2010
a contemplation on comparison
It's Saturday, there's snow on the ground, and I'm taking a day to exhale.
(Wait. Wasn't I just blogging about summertime? What happened?)
The past couple of weeks (months?) have been pretty crazy. I find myself saying that more often than not, to the point where it's no longer a valid excuse.
(Wait. Wasn't I just blogging about summertime? What happened?)
The past couple of weeks (months?) have been pretty crazy. I find myself saying that more often than not, to the point where it's no longer a valid excuse.
I'm busy.
But I'm always busy.
So what? It's no excuse at all. When you want to make time, you make time.
Or else you let things slide and let the 'busy' excuse dictate your life.
Like blogging, for example.
Truth be told, the last few weeks (months?) I haven't really wanted to say anything.
Not because I don't have anything to say, although at times it does feel as though all the creative marrow has been sucked right out of me.
Not because I don't have a million things going on in my head that I absolutely need to process through written expression.
Not even because I'm lazy or unmotivated.
Nope. The truth is that I've been really struggling with comparison lately. The bad kind of comparison, the kind that has me evaluating everything and feeling like I don't measure up; the kind that has me wanting to hang back, hidden in the shadows of the far corner, afraid I'll get ridiculed or, even worse, completely dismissed once I get up on the stage.
Even if that stage is blogging.
Let me clarify: this is not, I repeat, not a pity party I'm throwing for myself. Not at all. I'm fulfilled, I'm happily in love, surrounded by a circle of the best people one could hope for, and Christmas is around the corner. If I'm crying these days, it's tears of joy (or it's watching Christmas commericals. Seriously. I'm such a suck) that stream down my face.
I think it's that I'm about to take a giant leap of faith, leave the comfortable and the ordinary and the familiar and venture into an arena where, if I'm not completely okay with being centre stage, I will crash and burn and fail miserably in an industry that is entirely about self-promotion.
One of these days, I have to start to affirm to myself that my voice, my words, are worthy of being heard; that lurking in the shadows, too afraid to step forward, is not the destiny I was created for. I want this, I have dreamed of this, I continue to believe myself capable of this more with every day.
Now, I just have to stop comparing myself to everyone else.
Easier said than done.
Or else you let things slide and let the 'busy' excuse dictate your life.
Like blogging, for example.
Truth be told, the last few weeks (months?) I haven't really wanted to say anything.
Not because I don't have anything to say, although at times it does feel as though all the creative marrow has been sucked right out of me.
Not because I don't have a million things going on in my head that I absolutely need to process through written expression.
Not even because I'm lazy or unmotivated.
Nope. The truth is that I've been really struggling with comparison lately. The bad kind of comparison, the kind that has me evaluating everything and feeling like I don't measure up; the kind that has me wanting to hang back, hidden in the shadows of the far corner, afraid I'll get ridiculed or, even worse, completely dismissed once I get up on the stage.
Even if that stage is blogging.
Let me clarify: this is not, I repeat, not a pity party I'm throwing for myself. Not at all. I'm fulfilled, I'm happily in love, surrounded by a circle of the best people one could hope for, and Christmas is around the corner. If I'm crying these days, it's tears of joy (or it's watching Christmas commericals. Seriously. I'm such a suck) that stream down my face.
I think it's that I'm about to take a giant leap of faith, leave the comfortable and the ordinary and the familiar and venture into an arena where, if I'm not completely okay with being centre stage, I will crash and burn and fail miserably in an industry that is entirely about self-promotion.
One of these days, I have to start to affirm to myself that my voice, my words, are worthy of being heard; that lurking in the shadows, too afraid to step forward, is not the destiny I was created for. I want this, I have dreamed of this, I continue to believe myself capable of this more with every day.
Now, I just have to stop comparing myself to everyone else.
Easier said than done.
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