OMFG - How to Cope with the Winter Blahs

Note: [Just a little note before I get into this post today: I will be launching a new blog soon! A properly branded and well-curated blog. Oh what's that you say? Is OMFG not properly branded and curated? In a word - no. OMFG was created because twenty-year old Sheila was going through whatever crisis twenty-year old Sheila was going through at the time (there were many) and needed some kind of catharsis. Hence the name, nature, and overall tone of OMFG. While it has been a great platform for me to, how shall I put this eloquently -- brain vomit onto -- it's time to move on. However, with a lot of work still left to do before launching the new one, I will continue to brain vomit on here. Anyway, keep your eyes peeled - I look forward to sharing my passion project with you all soon!]

I woke up to a cavalcade of texts this morning with the same message: all my friends utterly freaking out about the first snowfall in the city. Mass horror. Multiple repetition of the word depression and the phrase but what will we do?! You'd think a bunch of Canadians would be used to the white stuff by now, but apparently not.

As a born and raised Torontonian, I can empathize with the shock and awe every year. Perhaps you one-seasoned dwellers (I'm looking at you, L.A.) are all well-adjusted with your even doses of vitamin D and sunshine and whatever, but us seasonal east coast folks are moody, emo, and perpetually introspective. You would be too with four different seasons, of which two include what can best be described as slivers of sunlight. Forget the struggle. It's the angst that's real.

The first snowfall signifies Toronto's transformation into Gotham for the next goodness-knows-how-long. It goes dark at 4 in the afternoon. Everyone is in black, gray, or some shade in between, and interactions in public are not between two people but rather between your face, the two feet of ground in front of you, and the fur to the left and right of your cheeks. Lovely indeed.

An easy time to get depressed? Surely. But us Canadians have more than one way to beat the winter blahs. Call me naive but I find something quite romantic about the change of season. The city becomes gritty and intense...and as much as I hate trudging through it in my Weitzmans, the snow blankets all the city's imperfections and is nothing short of beautiful. It's called cuffing season for a reason -- the interactions we do have are more meaningful because if I'm going to step foot into the post-Apocalyptic wasteland that IS the outside world to come see you or vice versa -- it better be worth it.

If being one half of a spooning/Netflix situation isn't your thing there's always the tried and true winter solution of good old alcohol. Nothing, and I mean nothing, warms a body up quite like it. Say what you will about we the north, but afraid of the cold physically is something we're not. As a promoter in the night life scene, I can safely say that girls are just as, if not more sparsely attired in the dead of winter than the summer. Bare legs and sky-high heels are a night time observation to  be made year round. The parties are even arguably of better calibre given the frost. How is that possible? Well let's put it this way: those who are willing to make the trek from condo to club are in for the long haul. No one missions out in the cold without a die hard mission to party and party hard. Even during our Ice Age of a winter last year, I had some of the best times with my good friends, copious amounts of vodka and not much else. Snow be damned. We're good as long as we have ice.

So whether you're viewing the winter onslaught romantically through rose-coloured glasses or through the slightly hazy eyes of vodka, whisky, or other choice poison, know that it's going to be okay. I personally always set out to do the latter but that inevitably leads to the former. Who knows. All we know for sure is that winter is coming. We got this, Gotham. x

OMFG - The Every Dude's Guide to Clubbing

I've written two posts on the art of clubbing with ease for girls (See Part One and Part Two here in case you missed them..) but what about guys? Let's face it, for girls, if you're dolled up, rolling through lines and straight to the bottles is easy. (And if it isn't, again, I refer you to my oh-so-helpful guides here and here) But what about as a man?

First things first. This need not apply should you be one of two things. The first? Rolling in it. If you have money to throw down and still can't find a way to ball, there is no hope for you. Go home. As for you successful ballers, we'll see you inside. The second? Gays in the scene. You stylish, beautiful unicorns are welcome at all clubs. At least in my experience, anyway.

Speaking of which, what does my experience consist of that gives me the authority to be writing such a guide in the first place? Schooled from fifteen on in the old entertainment district, graduated to King West appropriately at nineteen, then transitioned into a promoter subsequently after getting my inevitable party girl training. That was four years ago. I'm obviously not the be all and end all word of what's what but ample nights out can at least allow me share some of my party/promoter wisdom with you. Shall we?

  - Be chill with other dudes.
Perhaps the most important of rules for the every-man in a club setting. What is it, exactly, about high rates of alcohol consumption and the male gender that makes them think every dude out there is trying to cut down their ego? Listen. As a girl, I don't give much of a crap about your ego so I highly doubt all the other dudes in the club do either. We're all here to have fun, after all. Don't be the dude who gets all territorial when another guy gets in the booth. Don't be the dude who has to macho up a level when another guy talks to the girls he's trying to mac. It's the club equivalent of flailing out a peacock's feathers and looks twice as dumb. Being chill is the key to effortlessly moving 1) in and out of booths and 2) getting in good with girls an/or people who matter. Just. Chillllll.

- Always offer.
I know that Toronto girls often come off as entitled, jaded bitches who simply do not have time to listen to what you say unless it's about what color you can possibly make the bottom of their heels. (Hint: it's red) Nonetheless, the ones who aren't in said category (i.e. the ones you'd actually like to get to know) are worth offering to buy drinks for. Even as a model/promoter who has her own bottles at her disposal on the regular, there is no nicer gesture at a packed night out than a man offering to take me to the bar for some much-needed non-self-serving libation. Guys who do join a booth and offer to pitch on promoter bottles are also much appreciated. We will always say no. But you'll look classy as fuck offering. The classic gentlemanly act of the offer; it's the anti-assumption.

- Have fun.
You'd think this would be an obvious one! Nothing lights up my cold little jaded promoter heart more than when I see guys (and girls, for that matter) just letting loose. Seriously. You might even catch a smile skip along my standard expression of resting bitch face. Now I don't mean ratchet dancing to impress the other sex, I mean actually just breaking it down however you would dance when you're alone at home and your jam comes on. Flailing arms. Excited yells. You get the gist. I remember I once saw some guy absolutely lose his shit when Turn Down For What came on -- dropped his drink, face lit up and literally cleared the dance floor to do some goofy dance. It was awesome. In comparison to all the other guys who are stone-faced and looking around like a predator lurks for prey, having fun never looked so good.

- Grab not.
If I had a dollar for every hand I shoved off me while out and about, I'd be a wealthy, wealthy woman. Fine, fine, I suppose we can excuse an inebriated hand grab here and there (we get it, you're wasted and the best option really did seem like reaching out and going for it) but anything else, quite frankly, is gross. I kid you not, I once got grabbed by the throat while making my way through a crowded club. Alarming? Yes. Scarily so. While that's an extreme case, all I'm saying is be a good dude and you know, maybe not grab that ass because it's in front of you. Guiding a girl through a club because it's crowded is lovely. Anything else, eh, not so much.

Well there you have it -- just the modest opinions of one promoter to the male masses. Be chill. Have fun. Don't be creepy. That's pretty much it. See all you men, boys, gentlemen and everything in between out and about. x

OMFG - The Scariest Part of Your Twenties..

As my brother, the last of my siblings, moved out of our parents home this week, I came to the horrifying realization that this was it. My sister, myself and now my brother were all officially adults. Little birdies no more...we had flown the coop and entered the air sans safety net.

Okay, okay, I feel like throughout my twenties thus far I've had freakouts about becoming an adult at least on a bi-monthly basis. Bi-weekly is more like it. But there's something about all three of us being there that struck a particularly realistic chord. Perhaps the scariest realization about being an adult is that the only person you can count on is yourself. I mean this in the least desolate and dramatic way possible -- of course we all have good friends and family there to help us in a true bind but being self-sufficient is, in my humble opinion anyway, a sign of maturity.

The hardest lesson I've learned thus far in this precocious decade? To bank on yourself. And mean it. With a job that has all the security of iCloud (read: none) and an affinity for a life with ample flexibility and wonder, my stability levels are entirely dependent on one thing: me, myself and I.

Promoting is one of those jobs that should come with a slogan ripped right from MTV Diary Of.. "You think you know but you have no idea." I chuckle at those who think all it requires is showing up for a few hours a couple times a week to drink vodka and bop around in the booth. This lovely condo and YSL heels didn't come from bopping. What started out as shits and giggles working for my former business partner as essentially a party girl turned into a quick realization of what could be made here and thus the Risk pieces on the King West board that is my life started to form. That was four years ago. And even today, while established on the scene, it is still a constant hustle and grind to stay relevant and in demand.

How hard you grind is directly correlated to how well things go. An obvious statement? Yes. But one that only turns into a stable means when you know you have what it takes. This is applicable to all careers whether it be the perpetual hustling path that I chose to take or more conventional routes I know many of my friends to be on. I've learned to not freak out as much knowing that I can depend on myself even though my only security system is my laptop, phone, and whatever I choose to do with them. Four years of ups and downs and lessons and learning and perspective and yes, even more freakouts, have led to finally being able to bank on myself. Being my own security system? I'll take that over iCloud any day.

Surely there will be plenty of dips and dives while we're out here flying but having that added twenty-something faith in yourself sure does make the ride less turbulent. Up, up and away dear readers! x 

The Ultimate Twenty-Something Bucket List - OMFG

My newsfeed is always full of articles with titles such as 30 Places to See Before You Die, 20 Roadtrips to Take in Your Twenties, and, well, you get the gist. Even I'm guilty of posting a bucket-list type article every so often! But, that's where it ends, at merely posting it. Dreaming of living and living the dream are two very different things and for most of us, dreaming is the furthest we go. Being proactive is scarce when your comfort zone is -- well pretty damn comfortable.

I'd like to think I've led a relatively interesting life. A good amount of travel, some crazy experiences, and a few utter last minute decisions where I've packed up and just gotten the hell out of this city for more than a vacation because I could. But, even with all I've done, I still feel as though I've only written one chapter, if that, in the Great Canadian Novel that is to be my life. (Note: the only chapter fully written would be that on desserts. I am an expert.)

With that I present to you my twenty-something bucket list! Not simply a list of things I haven't done, like the bucket lists I wrote when I was little were comprised of; (Swim with dolphins: check!), but a proper twenty-something bucket list of experiences. Really effing awesome experiences.

Be an artist.

We all know right-brained people are taking over the world. It's all about the creative class nowadays and to create is an essential part of the twenty-something (and beyond!) experience. With so many outlets at our artistic disposal, and with even more social mediums to share the creative process than ever, being an artsy-fartsy has never been more accessible. Sounds intimidating, but I'm not looking to mastermind the next Jay-Z interactive performance art installation here (yet, anyway) -- brush to canvas, camera to travel, anything so long as they get the creative juices going! Start small then go big...but always be creating. 

Be an explorer.

I'm in about the same physical shape as a couch. (See: dessert expert chapter) Skinny, yes, but more of a plump skinny-fat, if you will. While not exactly motivated by physical activity, I very well know that some of the most raw and spectacular places on Earth are only accessible to those who pick their asses up off the ground and move. Machu Picchu has always been a trek I've wanted to hike, as well as some of the crazy river paths in Southeast Asia. River Monsters is, I kid you not, one of my favorite shows. Getting into shape in order to see big-ass scary monster fish halfway across the world? Um, I literally cannot think of a better reason. 

An ultimate foodie experience.

While dessert is the love of my life, I'm a fan of food in general. There's pretty much nothing I won't try and there's quite a lot of unappealing delicacies I rather enjoy. (Weird animal innards, weird animals and what have you -- bring it on.) I've been lucky enough to dine at some of the best restaurants in the world but I've still yet to have an ultimate foodie experience. I came pretty close in Tokyo, seeing the Tsukiji Fish Market in action then eating hands-down the best sushi of my life -- but there's still much to see, and most importantly taste, for me in the culinary realm. Truffle hunting, cooking lessons in Tuscany, the full farm-to-plate experience...I could go on. My stomach is rumbling already.

Learn a new language.

The two languages I speak are English, and a made up language my best friend taught me that she learned from camp when we were in junior high. Yup. So there's definitely room for me to grow in that department! Rather than go the Rosetta Stone route, to get a check-off on this list I require learning it first-hand by immersing myself in another culture. Think Under The Tuscan Sun except everyone is twenty years younger. Soaking in another culture is the most cliched of all bucket list experiences but it's for a reason -- quintessential to knowing what you want is educating yourself on all your options, the world over. Soak it all in, kids.

Fall in love....unconditionally.

This may be the hardest one on this bucket list of all. Falling in love in your twenties is no easy feat -- stupid crap we carry around from past trysts, pressure to make the most of the decade life-experience-wise while simultaneously having to somehow figure out our futures makes it damn near impossible. However if you do find that little needle of love in the dating haystack, do it properly and give it a fair chance. No inhibitions, no defense mechanisms and entirely whole-heartedly. Goodness knows I've messed up more than a few relationships with my insecurities and over-thinking. It's easier said than done and there's no guarantee it will be painless, but you never know until you truly try. Stupid crap, begone!

We all know that the times you dive head-first outside your comfort zone are simply the best. Like, the freaking best. They're thrilling, they're scary and they're unpredictable --  all in exciting and momentum-fueled ways. We all get to know ourselves much better when we're in the unknown rather than idly coasting along. This list is merely one I've set for myself; revise it, personalize it, but most importantly make one that gets you outside your comfort zone. The world awaits.

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OMFG -- Is there REALLY such thing as The One?

In a word, no.

But, let's not be entirely cynical and jaded now. Let's take a twenty-something's experience-provoked look at the matter, shall we?

I think it's safe to say that we have all, hopeless romantic or not, pondered whether the idea of there being one perfect person for each of us out there exists. You know, a soul mate! A Romeo to Juliet, a Jack to Rose, a little old man from Up! to the little old lady from Up! A destined being who loves us as we are, flaws and all, and we them, and rainbows and unicorns and butterflies and whatever.

I, more than anyone, desired this to be true. (Excuse me while I get a bit maudlin for a second..) My parents, a perfect union present my entire life have a marriage going on 38 years strong now. They moved here from Hong Kong in 1975, married, and have worked as a team together to build not only a happy marriage, but a happy life for my siblings and I. Soul mates? I believed ever since I was little that if ever a thing such existed, it existed in my parents.

But alas, being the starry-eyed girl I was, entering the dating scene with such an unrealistic idea of love in my head proved to be quite challenging. With my skewed vision, I thought if it was meant to be, it would be easy. And to be passionately in love was an overwhelming, Earth-shattering feeling that would never end. Um, nope! Not at all. I don't need to tell you guys that relationships are hard. Effort, compromise, tact and all that jazz in general. 

Love is nice but never enough. I hear of fewer and fewer couples who choose to stay together when the odds are against them. It is an opportunistic, cut-throat, defensive jungle out there and once we go a little awry, it is much easier to dispose than salvage. When all of us are meeting a million new people a mile a minute, the odds of finding some one better just seem that much more tantalizing, now don't they?

But perhaps in our quick-to-jump-ship minds, we've abandoned those who could of been The One material. Destiny is a nice notion, but you can't just expect to lay back and let the universe do the work. Like Blair Waldorf once quipped: "Destiny is for losers. It's just a stupid excuse to wait for things to happen instead of making them happen." Not that Blair was the epitome of wise relationship advice, or any advice really, but this gem of a quote certainly rings true. 

Make things happen. Don't expect The One to suddenly appear in your life but rather work at relationships with significant others you deem worth your while. Who knows, you might just cultivate a soul mate along the way. Or at the very best, some rainbows and unicorns and butterflies...or whatever.
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