My purse committed suicide last week. Okay...that's not entirely true. I may of assisted in its murder. In my defense, I was drunk. No -- drunk is not a sufficient enough word to describe the state I was in. I was totally, ridiculously, insanely and outrageously wasted. It was the end of the night on my 25th birthday last week and as I stumbled out of the cab to get home (in 4-inch heels, no less), I left my beautiful black purse in the backseat, thus committing the first crime of my quarter century year: pursicide.
One wallet, $200, one passport, a driver's license, health card and several bracelets later I learned my first lesson of the latter half of my twenties: shit happens. Keep calm and move on. The first part of that lesson has never been my forte. A highly emotionally-charged being, I'm prone to freaking-the-fuck out when shit hits the proverbial fan. Mostly on the inside, some times on the outside, and always electronically. My poor Droid has received the brunt end of my emotional lashings via endless texting spazzes and even a few throws...thank goodness for hard box cases. What do these freak-outs do? Next to nothing.
Besides dehydrating me via the massive amount of water I expel through my overused tear ducts, having mini meltdowns over ex-boyfriends this, missing out on that and everything else that tends to cause me stress just makes it worse. I always tease my barely emotional friends for being robots, but at times I wonder if life really is easier with the ability to suppress any uncomfortable feelings. Unluckily for me, I'm a freakin' feelings monster who seems to thrive on functioning at a wavelength that only prepubescent girls and I can hear.
And much to my recent dismay, immaturity is exactly what I've come to realize freaking out amounts to. I'm twenty five now for goodness sake; I think it's time I get a handle on two things: 1) that exes suck balls and 2) that my emotions can't run my life. Mr. Roboto, I never will be, but there's definitely room to improve emotional intelligence-wise. I know my tear ducts will thank me later.
Suddenly one wallet, $200, one passport, a driver's license, health card and several bracelet's doesn't seem like such a high price to pay for one darn good realization: taking control of things that affect me negatively and making them not is entirely in my hands. A wise man (ahem, Thomas Neary) once told me progress is the key to happiness...ending teenage emotional sprees at twenty five may be late, but it is progress nonetheless. From pursicide to epiphanies -- it's all about taking negative experiences and transitioning into positive realizations. Shit happens. Freak out momentarily. Keep calm, keep smiling, and move the fuck on.
x
Sunday, May 27, 2012
Monday, April 23, 2012
OMFG - How To Lose A Guy in 10 Days
So I turn 25 in less than a month. The horror is slowly sinking in. As a model, I'm ancient, but as a single girl in the city, I'm somewhere in between a hopeless romantic and an "all men are scum" mindset. Lately, I've been leaning towards the latter. What it is about men in this city that makes dating so...so...difficult? Before I go on, allow me to inform those of you who don't me: I'm university educated, attractive (after 9 a.m....mornings and I do not, I repeat do NOT mix), social, and, from what I've been told, pretty darn fun to be around. I'm independent, don't wear fake hair, always order dessert, and think that superhero movies are awesome. Why am I going all e-harmony on you, darling readers? Because my love life (and those of my other single girlfriends) as of late has me inspired. As does watching this Kate Hudson classic on a Sunday night. How do us twenty-something girls on the scene lose a guy in ten (or more) days? Let me count the ways.
1) We go out.
I'm a promoter. As in, I get people into clubs and facilitate good times. What does this mean? That I'm out and about on average 4 times a week. What has this taught me? Men do NOT like girls who are exposed. Before turning my nightlife into something profitable, I was already a fixture on the scene. I love going out and did so when I was single, and while in a relationship. (Nothing like a partner in crime you can sleep with as well!) One year of promoting later and I pretty much know everyone who comes to our weekly parties. I spend my nights chatting with everyone and their mama at our events. Alas, a few men I've been on dates with have cringed at the thought of their girl being so openly social all the time. The girlfriends I have who come to almost all my nights are out just as much as I am. Yes, there are tons of less-than-desirable trashy girls who fit the description of club whore to a tee, but there are also normal girls who just like to dance! And we ain't gonna do it at home.
2) We look good.
I model on the side. Inevitably, I have a lot of model friends. And they all express the same woes with me, men-wise. It's a double-edged sword when it comes to having model status on the dating scene. On one hand, guys love the idea of dating not the girl in the dress, but the girl in the ad in the dress. On the other hand, by dating, I mean banging. Yup. It's either a) you're the first model they've ever been with and their male ego goes nuts after and they want to see what else they can get, b) they are massively insecure at the thought of model looks and self-sabotage or c) they are modelizers just in it for the chase. Bang bang, bye bye. This really applies to all hot chicks. Actually, just all girls in general.The heart wants what it wants, right? Well, so do the pants.
3) We're Carrie girls.
There's been a bit of an epidemic among my older guy friends lately. They all seem to be settling down with -- how shall I phrase this delicately -- Plain Janes. You know: boring, nice, sweet enough girls who just sit there smiling and giggling. They don't add much to conversations and look as if they put their outfits together via the style tips page in Cosmo. They're perfectly pleasant but they're just not, to me anyway, interesting. I love all my opinionated, sharp-witted, potty-mouthed, fashion-mistake making, risk-taking, mood-swinging girlfriends more than anything. All the ridiculousness they get into, all the epic mistakes and comebacks they endure, and all the insane shenanigans they create make them worship material. As Carrie once quoted to the elation of interesting women everywhere: "Maybe some women aren't meant to be tamed. Maybe they just need to run free til they find some one just as wild to run with them." I have nothing against these Plain Janes (and if they make my friends happy, that's what matters) but Carrie's got a point. Where are the men who don't want Version 2.0 of their moms but a wild goddess to keep up with them? Or, keep up with us, is more like it!
4) We know what we want.
And for the overwhelming majority of my girls, that doesn't mean kids. At least not for a long while. I'm still remarkably uncomfortable around kids...maybe it's because they're smelly and loud (likely), or maybe it's because they remind me that I want to accomplish so much more before I can even consider having them. Of course I want kids one day (it would be a crime to humanity to not reproduce adorable Asian babies. You know they're the cutest. Don't even try and deny it.) but right now, I want a successful career, travel, and a Balenciaga Moto in every colour. Selfish? No. Just watch a few minutes of Teen Mom and my case is made. I don't know where my career will take me now, but I hope it takes me everywhere. My successful girl friends in the scene work similarly flexible jobs (DJing, fashion merchandising, modeling, etc.) and know that when an opportunity strikes, you jump on it. Being outwardly anti-child is, hmm, kind of the opposite of what men who want to date seriously are looking to hear; but kids or no kids, I rather jab my stiletto into my jugular than become a housewife.
5) We're picky.
I know what I'm worth. And it's a lot. I'm cocky by no means, but every healthy, happy individual has a good dose of self-confidence.That being said, I'm not willing to settle for less than I think I deserve. This sounds a lot bitchier than it is; I welcome complicated men (actually have quite the liking for them), am capable of empathetic understanding to the umpteenth degree and honest to goodness do not give a crap about income. However, slip-ups in how you treat me usually end with a brisk switch in my head from "potential" to "never". Where my adhesion is to good hearts and being treated well, all my other girl friends have there own versions of criteria they're just as unwilling to deviate from. Handsome, kind, and interesting -- those are just the bare necessities.
There you have it guys and dolls. How to lose a guy in ten (or more) days, according to my recent love life and those of my similarly situation-ed girl friends! Let's recap here: gorgeous, ambitious, opinionated, decisive and socially-inclined women have become the pariahs of the dating scene? In that case, I think I'll be happily single. Carrie girls are a rare breed and, well, I really wouldn't have it any other way.
Best scene.
x
1) We go out.
I'm a promoter. As in, I get people into clubs and facilitate good times. What does this mean? That I'm out and about on average 4 times a week. What has this taught me? Men do NOT like girls who are exposed. Before turning my nightlife into something profitable, I was already a fixture on the scene. I love going out and did so when I was single, and while in a relationship. (Nothing like a partner in crime you can sleep with as well!) One year of promoting later and I pretty much know everyone who comes to our weekly parties. I spend my nights chatting with everyone and their mama at our events. Alas, a few men I've been on dates with have cringed at the thought of their girl being so openly social all the time. The girlfriends I have who come to almost all my nights are out just as much as I am. Yes, there are tons of less-than-desirable trashy girls who fit the description of club whore to a tee, but there are also normal girls who just like to dance! And we ain't gonna do it at home.
2) We look good.
I model on the side. Inevitably, I have a lot of model friends. And they all express the same woes with me, men-wise. It's a double-edged sword when it comes to having model status on the dating scene. On one hand, guys love the idea of dating not the girl in the dress, but the girl in the ad in the dress. On the other hand, by dating, I mean banging. Yup. It's either a) you're the first model they've ever been with and their male ego goes nuts after and they want to see what else they can get, b) they are massively insecure at the thought of model looks and self-sabotage or c) they are modelizers just in it for the chase. Bang bang, bye bye. This really applies to all hot chicks. Actually, just all girls in general.The heart wants what it wants, right? Well, so do the pants.
3) We're Carrie girls.
There's been a bit of an epidemic among my older guy friends lately. They all seem to be settling down with -- how shall I phrase this delicately -- Plain Janes. You know: boring, nice, sweet enough girls who just sit there smiling and giggling. They don't add much to conversations and look as if they put their outfits together via the style tips page in Cosmo. They're perfectly pleasant but they're just not, to me anyway, interesting. I love all my opinionated, sharp-witted, potty-mouthed, fashion-mistake making, risk-taking, mood-swinging girlfriends more than anything. All the ridiculousness they get into, all the epic mistakes and comebacks they endure, and all the insane shenanigans they create make them worship material. As Carrie once quoted to the elation of interesting women everywhere: "Maybe some women aren't meant to be tamed. Maybe they just need to run free til they find some one just as wild to run with them." I have nothing against these Plain Janes (and if they make my friends happy, that's what matters) but Carrie's got a point. Where are the men who don't want Version 2.0 of their moms but a wild goddess to keep up with them? Or, keep up with us, is more like it!
4) We know what we want.
And for the overwhelming majority of my girls, that doesn't mean kids. At least not for a long while. I'm still remarkably uncomfortable around kids...maybe it's because they're smelly and loud (likely), or maybe it's because they remind me that I want to accomplish so much more before I can even consider having them. Of course I want kids one day (it would be a crime to humanity to not reproduce adorable Asian babies. You know they're the cutest. Don't even try and deny it.) but right now, I want a successful career, travel, and a Balenciaga Moto in every colour. Selfish? No. Just watch a few minutes of Teen Mom and my case is made. I don't know where my career will take me now, but I hope it takes me everywhere. My successful girl friends in the scene work similarly flexible jobs (DJing, fashion merchandising, modeling, etc.) and know that when an opportunity strikes, you jump on it. Being outwardly anti-child is, hmm, kind of the opposite of what men who want to date seriously are looking to hear; but kids or no kids, I rather jab my stiletto into my jugular than become a housewife.
5) We're picky.
I know what I'm worth. And it's a lot. I'm cocky by no means, but every healthy, happy individual has a good dose of self-confidence.That being said, I'm not willing to settle for less than I think I deserve. This sounds a lot bitchier than it is; I welcome complicated men (actually have quite the liking for them), am capable of empathetic understanding to the umpteenth degree and honest to goodness do not give a crap about income. However, slip-ups in how you treat me usually end with a brisk switch in my head from "potential" to "never". Where my adhesion is to good hearts and being treated well, all my other girl friends have there own versions of criteria they're just as unwilling to deviate from. Handsome, kind, and interesting -- those are just the bare necessities.
There you have it guys and dolls. How to lose a guy in ten (or more) days, according to my recent love life and those of my similarly situation-ed girl friends! Let's recap here: gorgeous, ambitious, opinionated, decisive and socially-inclined women have become the pariahs of the dating scene? In that case, I think I'll be happily single. Carrie girls are a rare breed and, well, I really wouldn't have it any other way.
x
Friday, April 13, 2012
OMFG - Like A Child
I have a girl crush on Ellen. As in Ellen Degeneres, the comedian turned talk show queen. She dances, she's hilarious, she gives away thousands of dollars to those in need, she's adorable and she was the voice of Dory in Finding Nemo...what's not to love? I'm clearly not the only one as she's become a household name since the Big O left daytime. Sure, seeing her interview celebrity guests is nice, and watching her give away much needed help to those less fortunate is heartwarming, but that's not the reason I tune in. The best part of watching Ellen is she still laughs at her own jokes, still gets the chuckles when playfully interacting with guests and still looks totally amazed when new things are introduced to her. In other words, Ellen's still just a kid at heart.
Growing up kind of sucks. Yes, I said it. There's so much more to worry about, and the more you know, the more you worry. I'm not condoning an ignorant life by any means and obviously the responsibilities of getting older are for a reason (um, to not die, for the most part) but come on, how much more awesome was life before your first heartbreak? Before you were jaded? Before you thought you had seen and known everything that was worth seeing and knowing? Becoming jaded is all too easy in our overexposed, oversexed, over-hyped modern world. Staying childlike at heart is a skill. Take it from some one who gets sex, lies, and all other adult things shoved in her face on a daily basis via the nightlife industry. You want to stay pre-jaded as long as humanly possible.
Now, let's keep our definition of childlike away from that of being immature. I'm not talking about immaturity as in not being able to handle adult situations which we all inevitably come across. I'm talking about that sense of wonder and play and just being happy to just be. Watch any motivational talk on happiness, positive thinking or what have you, and they all list this as a key source of perpetual glee. Successful people keep exploring and pursuing, so take a note from them and do the same. Want it in the simplest terms? Just keep yourself open to knowing that things, even little things, are still awesome. And really, who doesn't want to be more awesome?
I squeal over a lot of things. When I see friends (even if I see them all the time), when I make travel plans, when I see art I like, when dessert is brought to the table etc. I'm a squealy, smiley, ecstatic kind of expresser and when I'm happy, everyone knows it. Seriously guys, if a model/promoter can still be un-jaded, then really, anyone can. The world is super awesome, and no matter how much we see of it...there's still so much more. So take a little time to think like a child -- Ellen would be proud.
Kiddies, check this out.
x
Growing up kind of sucks. Yes, I said it. There's so much more to worry about, and the more you know, the more you worry. I'm not condoning an ignorant life by any means and obviously the responsibilities of getting older are for a reason (um, to not die, for the most part) but come on, how much more awesome was life before your first heartbreak? Before you were jaded? Before you thought you had seen and known everything that was worth seeing and knowing? Becoming jaded is all too easy in our overexposed, oversexed, over-hyped modern world. Staying childlike at heart is a skill. Take it from some one who gets sex, lies, and all other adult things shoved in her face on a daily basis via the nightlife industry. You want to stay pre-jaded as long as humanly possible.
Now, let's keep our definition of childlike away from that of being immature. I'm not talking about immaturity as in not being able to handle adult situations which we all inevitably come across. I'm talking about that sense of wonder and play and just being happy to just be. Watch any motivational talk on happiness, positive thinking or what have you, and they all list this as a key source of perpetual glee. Successful people keep exploring and pursuing, so take a note from them and do the same. Want it in the simplest terms? Just keep yourself open to knowing that things, even little things, are still awesome. And really, who doesn't want to be more awesome?
I squeal over a lot of things. When I see friends (even if I see them all the time), when I make travel plans, when I see art I like, when dessert is brought to the table etc. I'm a squealy, smiley, ecstatic kind of expresser and when I'm happy, everyone knows it. Seriously guys, if a model/promoter can still be un-jaded, then really, anyone can. The world is super awesome, and no matter how much we see of it...there's still so much more. So take a little time to think like a child -- Ellen would be proud.
Kiddies, check this out.
x
Monday, April 9, 2012
OMFG - The Disconnect
I had a bit of a messy weekend and found myself looking for some ways to self improve, as I always do after feeling particularly unproductive or useless. The best way to do this, for me at least, is to be inspired by other noteworthy individuals who have made great changes for the better in their lives. I had always heard about TED talks, in bits and pieces of conversations from friends, but never bothered to check them out. At last, today, feeling super hungover and rather remorseful (to be perfectly honest) I decided that if there was ever a time I needed a collection of inspirational talks at my fingertips, it was now. And so, the TED-talking marathon began.
TED (Technology, Entertainment, Design) is basically a community of ideas worth sharing on every topic one can think of. I was immediately drawn to a few talks about how to maintain a life of happiness, and positive thinking. I asked my sister to send me any she found of interest and she ended up sending me psychologist Sherry Turkle's speech on modern technology and its impacts on society. Now, I know this doesn't sound like a topic as interesting as, say, Heidi and Seal's impending divorce or whatever shenanigans La Lohan happens to be getting herself into (drugs, DUI's, bad hair choices; that's all you need to know re: Lohan anyway) but it was a far more relative and engaging talk than one might initially think. If a twenty-something with a short attention span like me was easily consumed, trust me in saying it's a talk worth watching.
Anyway, if you still want to skip it, here's the gist of Turkle's argument: society today has become so dependent on constant online interactions that we've learned to expect less from actual human interactions. In other words, instead of feeling emotions with each other in person, we share statuses about feelings and (maybe) feel them after. It's a good point as many of my friends, myself included, put a lot of effort into our edited, manicured, and Photoshopped online versions of ourselves. Sure, much of it is for business and self-promotional reasons, but that doesn't change the fact that living edited online takes away from living for real in life. (I know my club promotions look much better coming from the streamlined Facebook page of an uber-cool model who posts slick dance songs and apathetic sounding status updates...but my true dork self slips up most of time, which is why you often see goofy family pictures, jubilant statuses on cake and Justin Bieber songs. What? He's awesome guys, I can't lie.)
I mean, how many times have you been at a dinner and every single person is on their Blackberry, Droid or iPhone tweeting or status updating about how awesome the dinner is when....well nothing is really happening at the dinner? It's a creepy perfected online world we've become used to expecting of each other. Pictures are perfect, wording is well-thought out and nothing is posted without being approved by some one. The thing is...real life is messy. It's demanding. It's sloppy. It's complicated. And most of all, it's kind of awesome for all those reasons. What we attempt to control online, we can't control in real life and I wouldn't change that for anything.
Perhaps it's just the company that occupies the night life industry I am surrounded by, but these super-savvy and highly image-conscious people almost seem afraid to live messy, real lives for fear it'll ruin their online personas. Heck, everyone is so afraid of getting hurt, it seems, that it's an easier choice to just become Mr. Roboto and not feel. Unfortunately for them, I'm thinky, feely (perhaps a little too much so) and complicated...oh and plan on living as emotionally loud as I want to. Messy? Perhaps. But real as can be.
Comment, like, and share this blog entry as you like, but don't forget to mention it to me in person too...Arigato, Mr. Roboto!
x
TED (Technology, Entertainment, Design) is basically a community of ideas worth sharing on every topic one can think of. I was immediately drawn to a few talks about how to maintain a life of happiness, and positive thinking. I asked my sister to send me any she found of interest and she ended up sending me psychologist Sherry Turkle's speech on modern technology and its impacts on society. Now, I know this doesn't sound like a topic as interesting as, say, Heidi and Seal's impending divorce or whatever shenanigans La Lohan happens to be getting herself into (drugs, DUI's, bad hair choices; that's all you need to know re: Lohan anyway) but it was a far more relative and engaging talk than one might initially think. If a twenty-something with a short attention span like me was easily consumed, trust me in saying it's a talk worth watching.
Anyway, if you still want to skip it, here's the gist of Turkle's argument: society today has become so dependent on constant online interactions that we've learned to expect less from actual human interactions. In other words, instead of feeling emotions with each other in person, we share statuses about feelings and (maybe) feel them after. It's a good point as many of my friends, myself included, put a lot of effort into our edited, manicured, and Photoshopped online versions of ourselves. Sure, much of it is for business and self-promotional reasons, but that doesn't change the fact that living edited online takes away from living for real in life. (I know my club promotions look much better coming from the streamlined Facebook page of an uber-cool model who posts slick dance songs and apathetic sounding status updates...but my true dork self slips up most of time, which is why you often see goofy family pictures, jubilant statuses on cake and Justin Bieber songs. What? He's awesome guys, I can't lie.)
I mean, how many times have you been at a dinner and every single person is on their Blackberry, Droid or iPhone tweeting or status updating about how awesome the dinner is when....well nothing is really happening at the dinner? It's a creepy perfected online world we've become used to expecting of each other. Pictures are perfect, wording is well-thought out and nothing is posted without being approved by some one. The thing is...real life is messy. It's demanding. It's sloppy. It's complicated. And most of all, it's kind of awesome for all those reasons. What we attempt to control online, we can't control in real life and I wouldn't change that for anything.
Perhaps it's just the company that occupies the night life industry I am surrounded by, but these super-savvy and highly image-conscious people almost seem afraid to live messy, real lives for fear it'll ruin their online personas. Heck, everyone is so afraid of getting hurt, it seems, that it's an easier choice to just become Mr. Roboto and not feel. Unfortunately for them, I'm thinky, feely (perhaps a little too much so) and complicated...oh and plan on living as emotionally loud as I want to. Messy? Perhaps. But real as can be.
Comment, like, and share this blog entry as you like, but don't forget to mention it to me in person too...Arigato, Mr. Roboto!
x
Monday, March 26, 2012
OMFG - Location, Location, Location
They say songs and smells (surprisingly) are the best triggers for memories from the past, but I always find that locations invoke the strongest nostalgia for me. What is it about roaming the same streets that my friends and I once drunkenly caused mischief upon or being at the same playground my siblings and I grew up on that causes me to feel almost a physical gut feeling of deja vu?
Where this is especially vivid is when it comes to past relationships. As if technology hasn't made it hard enough to forget some connections I would rather not think of often.(Facebook is a graveyard for old relationships. I had some chick comment on a picture of my ex and I from over a year ago and it showed up on my newsfeed -- not to mention the newsfeeds of my over 1000 friends. I spent the night warding off questions of whether we were back together. Thanks, chick.) Perhaps I'm just over-sensitive (which, admittedly is not an unusual when it comes to matters of the heart) but there are some places I choose to avoid on purpose.
One would think any place where a pointed falling-out between old lovers occurred would be the most obvious but it's actually quite the opposite for me. Places where we fought --whatever --I really could care less. One more reminder of why not being with them now makes that much more sense. It's places where the happiest memories took place that pull on the heart strings. Central Park where we paddled on a boat amongst the ducks, that sushi place where we always ordered for each other and any other place where similarly maudlin, borderline nauseating, actions happened are emotional landmines.
Lucky for me, my last relationship was quite the globe-trotting one and unless I plan on going to London, Paris, and New York consecutively any time soon, I'm safe. Toronto has been my hometown and thankfully any sappy memories I had in various locales there have been erased or replaced by, well, new and better ones. No one takes my city away from me, after all.
I'm in Montreal for the weekend and some places are less pleasant than others. Sensitivity? Perhaps, but feelings are feelings. At the end of the day it comes to a decision: either mourn the loss of something that no longer exists or let them remain happy memories and nothing more. The latter is the sensible choice and one that I've been able to do only recently. For me, I know my life goes happy, happier, happiest -- sure what I had once was nice, but the best is yet to come. Everything for a reason -- a belief that's never steered me wrong thus far. Take that, Central Park.
Where this is especially vivid is when it comes to past relationships. As if technology hasn't made it hard enough to forget some connections I would rather not think of often.(Facebook is a graveyard for old relationships. I had some chick comment on a picture of my ex and I from over a year ago and it showed up on my newsfeed -- not to mention the newsfeeds of my over 1000 friends. I spent the night warding off questions of whether we were back together. Thanks, chick.) Perhaps I'm just over-sensitive (which, admittedly is not an unusual when it comes to matters of the heart) but there are some places I choose to avoid on purpose.
One would think any place where a pointed falling-out between old lovers occurred would be the most obvious but it's actually quite the opposite for me. Places where we fought --whatever --I really could care less. One more reminder of why not being with them now makes that much more sense. It's places where the happiest memories took place that pull on the heart strings. Central Park where we paddled on a boat amongst the ducks, that sushi place where we always ordered for each other and any other place where similarly maudlin, borderline nauseating, actions happened are emotional landmines.
Lucky for me, my last relationship was quite the globe-trotting one and unless I plan on going to London, Paris, and New York consecutively any time soon, I'm safe. Toronto has been my hometown and thankfully any sappy memories I had in various locales there have been erased or replaced by, well, new and better ones. No one takes my city away from me, after all.
I'm in Montreal for the weekend and some places are less pleasant than others. Sensitivity? Perhaps, but feelings are feelings. At the end of the day it comes to a decision: either mourn the loss of something that no longer exists or let them remain happy memories and nothing more. The latter is the sensible choice and one that I've been able to do only recently. For me, I know my life goes happy, happier, happiest -- sure what I had once was nice, but the best is yet to come. Everything for a reason -- a belief that's never steered me wrong thus far. Take that, Central Park.
Thursday, March 22, 2012
OMFG - Twitterpated When Spring Hits
My brain feels like it's 75% mush lately. My emotions are nonsensical (well, more so than usual -- I didn't think that was possible either) and what was once irrational now seems entirely possible. Blame it on a fever...or, more like Spring fever.
Even you jaded cynics can agree that when the first truly warm day of spring hits Toronto, you get just a little more optimistic about, well, everything! Although our winter barely showed its claws, it was still cold (this is Canada after all) and this past week has been a turning point -- we're in the twenties for the remainder of it and it's only March. The result? A hot and heavy case of being twitterpated.
No, it's not some social media lingo, but quite the opposite. A throwback to good old fashioned, almost obsolete slang (we can add malarkey and hunky dory to that list), twitterpated is how the wise little owl in Bambi describes the animals come Springtime to the young fawn when he asks what's come over them. In other words, it's a darling way of saying coo coo for (horny) Cocopuffs. Nothing turns a girl's thoughts to love and companionship more than lovely weather.
My guy friends aren't immune to the disease as well as they've upped their game (the single ones anyway) in the chase. Added swag here, unjustified over-confidence there. Warm breezes, dewy air, flowy dresses and copious amounts of day drinking have that affect on the youthful population. Tail hunting aside, the best part of being twitterpated isn't the romance, but the air of optimism. All us broken, damaged, or heavily weighed down hearts seem to feel fresh again. What once seemed wretched and tiresome now seems carefree and naive. And is it ever a good feeling!
Sure, the results of being twitterpated aren't necessarily productive but some times you have to just give in to your surroundings and be a little frivolous. To my fellow romantics, once-jaded converts and mended hearts...that shit cray, and ain't it lovely?
x
Even you jaded cynics can agree that when the first truly warm day of spring hits Toronto, you get just a little more optimistic about, well, everything! Although our winter barely showed its claws, it was still cold (this is Canada after all) and this past week has been a turning point -- we're in the twenties for the remainder of it and it's only March. The result? A hot and heavy case of being twitterpated.
No, it's not some social media lingo, but quite the opposite. A throwback to good old fashioned, almost obsolete slang (we can add malarkey and hunky dory to that list), twitterpated is how the wise little owl in Bambi describes the animals come Springtime to the young fawn when he asks what's come over them. In other words, it's a darling way of saying coo coo for (horny) Cocopuffs. Nothing turns a girl's thoughts to love and companionship more than lovely weather.
My guy friends aren't immune to the disease as well as they've upped their game (the single ones anyway) in the chase. Added swag here, unjustified over-confidence there. Warm breezes, dewy air, flowy dresses and copious amounts of day drinking have that affect on the youthful population. Tail hunting aside, the best part of being twitterpated isn't the romance, but the air of optimism. All us broken, damaged, or heavily weighed down hearts seem to feel fresh again. What once seemed wretched and tiresome now seems carefree and naive. And is it ever a good feeling!
Sure, the results of being twitterpated aren't necessarily productive but some times you have to just give in to your surroundings and be a little frivolous. To my fellow romantics, once-jaded converts and mended hearts...that shit cray, and ain't it lovely?
x
Tuesday, March 13, 2012
OMFG - Spring Cleaning.
After an almost alarmingly mild winter (global warming much?), the first truly warm days of Spring have hit my dear city of Toronto. And, as with every year, that means a bit of spring cleaning for me. Mainly my closets which tend to overflow with accumulated goods over the year, and sadly the years past. After removing three garbage bags worth of clothing from my double closets, two things were apparent to me: 1) I need to stop buying ugly leopard print shirts and dresses in an attempt to satisfy my hunt for the perfect animal print outfit (feminine, chiffon and preferably Cavalli) and 2) my closets are so much better when following Thoreau's famous words: simplify, simplify.
Well, what's good for my closet is good for life. Clutter, tangible and otherwise is just not conducive to anything. Granted, your twenties is a time of trial and error -- as in figuring out your likes and dislikes when it comes to style, people and overall lifestyle. Fashionably speaking, I've recently come to the conclusion that I just don't care for, or particularly like anything super trendy and would rather invest in a few classic pieces from say, Holts, rather than twenty trendy items from H&M. (I also just can't wrap my head around wearing anything I find remotely silly. This encompasses the entire hipster trend at the moment of crop tops, floral high pants, etc. Maybe I'm just not cool enough.) With the style mantra of feminine, elegant and timeless in mind, I easily rid of all the frivolous and girly pieces I'd long outgrown.
While tossing some ugly jeans is easy enough (I had a light pair that were bedazzled. I kid you not.), it's the non-tangible clutter in our lives that's a little harder to rid of. Deciding what even counts as unnecessary in your life can be a challenge; I know I still have trouble differentiating between what's glamorous and fun and what's detrimental to me. With so many ups and downs being inevitable, keeping one rule in mind seems to be the trick: does this make me happy long term? That last word is key. Instant gratification is easy as pie...it's long term gratification that defines maturity.
Negative influences such as (for me anyway) overly dramatic "friends", selfishness and perhaps the most detrimental of them all, cheesecake, at the end of the day aren't paths to my long term happiness. And, for the most part I've been able to kick them to the curb (except for cheesecake. But I'm working on it...kind of.) These past few warm days have coincided with some wake-up calls in my life lately and what better time of year than nature's rebirth to make some improvements! Nothing crazy -- although my fitness kick made my dad ask me in all seriousness "Are you kidding?" when I said I was going for a run -- but rather a newly conscious way of making decisions. Simply being aware of what impacts us and what doesn't makes a world of a difference. For me this means not letting silly things affect me for the worse, a renewed focus on my writing and loved ones, and my health. A total Spring cleaning I need not: just tweaking and fine-tuning. Bring on the warmer weather.
x
Well, what's good for my closet is good for life. Clutter, tangible and otherwise is just not conducive to anything. Granted, your twenties is a time of trial and error -- as in figuring out your likes and dislikes when it comes to style, people and overall lifestyle. Fashionably speaking, I've recently come to the conclusion that I just don't care for, or particularly like anything super trendy and would rather invest in a few classic pieces from say, Holts, rather than twenty trendy items from H&M. (I also just can't wrap my head around wearing anything I find remotely silly. This encompasses the entire hipster trend at the moment of crop tops, floral high pants, etc. Maybe I'm just not cool enough.) With the style mantra of feminine, elegant and timeless in mind, I easily rid of all the frivolous and girly pieces I'd long outgrown.
While tossing some ugly jeans is easy enough (I had a light pair that were bedazzled. I kid you not.), it's the non-tangible clutter in our lives that's a little harder to rid of. Deciding what even counts as unnecessary in your life can be a challenge; I know I still have trouble differentiating between what's glamorous and fun and what's detrimental to me. With so many ups and downs being inevitable, keeping one rule in mind seems to be the trick: does this make me happy long term? That last word is key. Instant gratification is easy as pie...it's long term gratification that defines maturity.
Negative influences such as (for me anyway) overly dramatic "friends", selfishness and perhaps the most detrimental of them all, cheesecake, at the end of the day aren't paths to my long term happiness. And, for the most part I've been able to kick them to the curb (except for cheesecake. But I'm working on it...kind of.) These past few warm days have coincided with some wake-up calls in my life lately and what better time of year than nature's rebirth to make some improvements! Nothing crazy -- although my fitness kick made my dad ask me in all seriousness "Are you kidding?" when I said I was going for a run -- but rather a newly conscious way of making decisions. Simply being aware of what impacts us and what doesn't makes a world of a difference. For me this means not letting silly things affect me for the worse, a renewed focus on my writing and loved ones, and my health. A total Spring cleaning I need not: just tweaking and fine-tuning. Bring on the warmer weather.
x
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)