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 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.

x

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.
x

Thank Goodness For Girl Friends - OMFG

Friends -- good friends -- and all the crazy shenanigans you get into with them, are what we'll all remember the most from our twenties. That time we partook in illicit behavior with that celebrity at 4 a.m. in Miami? Awesome. That time we all took this or that at the cottage and hilariously mused about life? Epic. That time we had to carry insert the one friend who always goes overboard out of that really fancy club and watched him/her vomit on the lawn then try and convince us to go back out partying? Less fun....but still a sick (literally) memory. While co-ed fun is always solid, there's something to be said for good times with your bros/girls. After all, Entourage and Sex and the City were both wildly popular for a reason.

As I creep into my late twenties, I've come to value my close girl friends more and more. Emphasis on the close. We're not talking fake club hugs and air kiss this and air kiss that while you vapidly discuss just where she got that divine sample sale clutch. No. We're talking real ass bitches who know you without the night time make-up. The ones you can sit around in sweats with and talk about every little uncertainty you have about life while they share theirs.

Now that we're all leading adult (ish) lives, there's been a transition from quantity to quality. Gone are the days when we all lived within a stone's throw of each other and had endless time to just hang out. Obsessive texting of boy crisis updates as they happen are a thing of the past. One of my closest girl friends and I haven't lived in the same city for years now and are still closer than ever. I've always maintained that distance and friendship have absolutely nothing to do with each other! (Thank you Skype, Viber, and especially Whatsapp -- because sometimes you just need to know that the grumpy cat photo you sent has been seen.)

A five minute talk with my bestie (and yes...no matter how old I get I will have a bestie and refer to her as my bestie) is all it takes to get me out of whatever ridiculous mood I might be in...and I'm proud to say I can do the same for several of my good girl friends as well. Like relationships, friendships only work when you both make each other better people. If she's happy for your successes (and never jealous), supports your at-times poor, irrational decisions (and is there for you during the aftermath), and you can still both get into as much trouble as you did when you were eighteen, then chances are you've found a close girl friend for life.

What has me feeling a sudden burst of love for my darling girls? Perhaps it's the holiday season that has me particularly maudlin. Or maybe, it's just an ongoing appreciation for all the forward-moving, mood-swinging, potty-mouthed, risk-taking, complicated and intelligent women in my life. Carrie once said it was about finding someone to run wild with you...she was of course, referring to her search for a spouse. I think Carrie got it partially right; it is all about finding someone to run wild with you -- not a spouse -- but rather a pack of good girl friends. I'll cheers my Cosmo to that. x

OMFG - Do Nice Guys Actually Finish Last?

In the past little while I've read a plethora of articles online about how hard nice guys have it. Mostly opinion, some satire. (Think Vice, Elite Daily, that sort of thing.) They've all been interesting, slightly offensive, and mildly accurate, at best. They do, however, all come to one sad conclusion: in the dating game, nice guys finish dead last. My goodness, what is it about us silly, emotional, self-hating women that causes us to love assholes and make nice guys so utterly miserable? Aren't we just the worst?

Well no. I love how all these articles single-handedly blame women for the demise of the Nice Guy. We're just begging to be treated like shit, apparently, so men oblige as if they're doing us a favor. Here's the thing: women who are happily dating nice guys don't go on writing rampages about it. They also don't rant to all their friends about it. So in truth, the Nice Guy who is happily in a relationship gets a lot less press than the scorned one. And of course he gets a whole lot less press than the Asshole who walks away from his dealings with girls like men in skinny ties and sunglasses walk away from explosions in movies. When it comes to love, we talk about our problems, not our happiness. (No one would of gone to see The Notebook if they just went and got married after happily dating, now would they.)

In my twenty six years of dating, and in my twenty six years of girl friends sharing their stories of the perils of dating, I can truly say there is nothing wrong with nice guys. I welcome them. The problem with dating nice guys is how nice they are in comparison to you...it's the scale of relativity for niceness. Not kidding! For example, I was too nice for one ex (practically an angel in his eyes) and ultimately the devil in the eyes of my next ex. One just happened to be more apt to bad behavior and wavering morals while the other was black and white in his principles. Each saw me accordingly. (Model, promoter, party-loving, flighty, and ice cold when provoked...yet intensely close to my family, university educated, and overly caring and loyal. Confusing, I get it.) It's not that girls don't like nice guys...it's that girls don't like guys that are nicer than they are.

The whole damsel in distress ploy is a thing of the past. Unless a girl is seriously damaged, there's no need for any saving to be done. We're looking for an equally distressed dude to come along for the ride. I've always said, it's not about finding a partner in life, but a partner in crime. This doesn't mean a rag-tag looking, authority-defying, cad of a man, but simply some one who treats me well because he thinks I'm freaking awesome...and not because he's trying to be the Nice Guy.

Apparently I've been blind to a nice guy or two trying to garner my attention, as my girl friends have pointed out. The argument of nice being boring comes to mind, but really, it's just that sparks didn't fly! Nice or not nice, you need the zsa zsa zou to get any relationship going. So men, quit trying to be the Nice Guy and just be the Awesome Dude...i.e. yourself. We smart girls are bound to see what's real and what's fake sooner than you'd think.

So no, we don't want to be stood up, ignored, lied to or treated like shit in general. We like real men who can handle themselves and us as well without relying on stupid little archetypes. The Asshole might not finish last, and neither does the Nice Guy...but you know who does? The Whiny Nice Guy. x

OMFG...How Long Will Your Summer Fling Last?

As the sun beats hot and heavy during the day and the air is warm and inviting at night, we all can't help but get a little twitterpated with the season. (That's college talk for horny, in case you didn't know.) That wise little owl called it when he told Bambi, "Oh yes, nearly everybody gets twitterpated in the springtime." Less clothes, more hooking up, to put it bluntly. And so, with copious flings to be flung here, there, and everywhere, just how does one know what will last and what won't? Allow me to help you, darling bloggees: the Ultimate Guide to How Long Your Summer Fling Will Last based on where and how you met...shall we?

Where?
At the club.

How long will it last?
One night - a few months
This one is not as obvious as you'd think. Sure, one night stands are the result of many a club night but there are lots of decent people who go out as well. (Yes, I'm a promoter and perhaps biased, but the truth is clubs aren't just for flashy drug-addled scene kids.) Granted that you both can go out together without getting into stupid drunk fights, a relationship can endure. However, let's face it, these whirlwind, drunk, dancey, showy bonds tend to fizzle after a few months when the infatuation is over. Usher can sing it, but it ain't the truth: there's no real love in this club.

Will there be fallout?
Oh god yes. Lots, and lots, and lots of never-ending fallout. Listen, if they picked you up at the club, they're going to do it again. And again. And again. And chances are you're going to have to see it grinding and getting nasty all up in your drunk face every time you go there. Clubs = stomping grounds. Either get a new one or find a way to get your ex out of there. (Slipping the bouncer a smile and a crisp fifty does the trick, but you didn't hear that from me..)

Where?
At a music festival.

How long will it last?
Two weeks.
Unless it was some sort of classical music festival, chances are you and your potential love were decidedly NOT sober upon meeting. Bonding intensely over music is a strong connection...and surely drugs and whatever else you ingested there made it seem stronger. A couple weeks worth of fun jaunts, skipping around together while wearing cut-offs and holding hands, and you've got yourself a cute little summer fling, but not much else.

Will there be fallout?
Nah. Just make sure your Bonnaroo ticket is in V.I.P. while they can mingle in the general admission area.. far away from you. 

Where?
Online.

How long will it last?
One date or forever.
Stigma or no stigma, I've heard more than a few success stories when it comes to meeting companions via online dating. Granted, I'm referring to online dating sites with tedious and in-depth profiles such as Lava Life or eHarmony as opposed to, say Tinder, which is essentially the online equivalent of scanning faces at a bar. But, I've also heard more than a few horror stories where expectation and reality of the person were worlds apart...so generally a summer fling via online dating goes one of two ways: 1) you venture out on one disastrous first date where you find out "entrepreneur" actually meant "lives in mom's basement and jots down ideas every once in a while" and never respond to them again or 2) you venture out on one highly compatible first date that leads to something solid. High risk, but high reward.

Will there be fallout?
Nope. The best part about online anything is the anonymity. You can disappear online as quickly as click, click, click. But, avoid their favorite restaurants and any other hot spots they listed in their profile...just to be safe.

Where?
Your phone book...in other words the Ex.

How long will it last?
Until the end of summer.
Here's the thing with exes -- if it didn't work out once, it probably isn't going to work again. Einstein defined insanity as doing the same thing over and over again and expecting a different result. Well, I was definitely insane then when it came to a few of my exes. They haven't changed, and neither have you. But, there's always going to be that initial spark, i.e. the reason you got together in the first place. And with that spark, a lack of other options, the comfort of familiarity, and that optimistic ambiance that comes with this damn summer air...some times, you're bound to relapse. It'll be great for a bit but then crumble and crumble hard. Annoying habits, different goals, real jobs or just plain incompatibility cuts harsh without the summer blanket to cover it. If it's a mistake you have to make, so be it. But you know what they say; insane in the membrane, insane in the brain. (You're insane. Duh.)

Will there be fallout?
Hells to the yes. Be prepared for both of you to get all crazy possessive like when you initially broke up: as in social media stalking each other to see who's hooking up with who post-break-up and if these new people are in fact new or people who came between you before. Just thinking about the fallout is giving me a headache. Oy.

Where?
At T.I.F.F.

How long will it last?
One night...if that.
Is him/her famous? Did they say they had an "agreement" with his/her well-known significant other? Did his/her handler approach you and pick you up instead of him/her personally? Was he/she kind of an elusive asshole up until the hook-up? Are you super naive? Do you see where I'm going with this?

Will there be fallout?
Are you famous? No? Then no.

Where?
At work.

How long will it last?
One year - long term.
Ah, work. A somewhat sane and stable environment to meet people within! You'll know you can put up with them on a day to day basis (you work together after all), and you know you have similar lifestyles and goals (again..you work together.) Add a little chemistry and charm and you've got yourself one legit summer fling...and possibly more! Oh, should you work in the modeling, nightlife, fitness, events, concert, and/or the fashion industry....none of this applies to you. Good luck to us all. (#foreveralone)

Will there be fallout?
Obviously. The saying don't shit where you eat exists for a reason. As long as it doesn't end nastily, the fallout can be minimal. You're seeing each other in a professional and not leisure setting, so after what might be a few weeks/months of awkward interactions, getting back to strictly business is totally possible.

And there you have it lovelies, a guide to summer flinging! Regardless of where you meet them, all we can ever do in romance is find some one you like and roll the dice.  It's inevitable, it's fun and goodness, it's finally summer...so like the wise owl said, get a twitterpatin'. x

How to Hone Your Bitch-dar; Keeping Nasty Gals Away

Bitches be crazy. With men, sure. But with other women...well that's a whole other level. When Congreve penned his infamous line hell hath no fury like a woman scorned in the 1600's, he probably should of modified it to anticipate modern times: Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned...by bitches. Now, I'm no hater of other girls by any means. Actually, it's precisely the fact that I'm a girl's girl which makes betrayal of female friendship so unleashing of said fury. So, how does a lovely and loyal girl such as yourself make sure you never feel the bitch betrayal? It's as simple as honing in on your bitch-dar, with these tips and tricks of the girl trade. Allow me to elaborate:

- Hateful on being grateful.

I'm a grateful person by nature; living a happy and fulfilled life is only perpetuated by remaining so, in my opinion. I don't take anything for granted, including friendship. (And travel. And music. And sushi. And dessert. Dessert. And more dessert. Let's just say I'm forever grateful for all desserts.) Get your bitch-dar red flags to half mast if you recognize a girl friend who just seems ungrateful...for everyone and everything in her life. I've seen this more so in models than any other demographic of friends, I assume because being beautiful often makes things come easier than they would for those who have to work for model-afforded perks. (Trips, designer clothes, comped dinner, etc.) This observation is not without exception though as a some of my most mind-blowingly gorgeous model friends also possess the most gratitude. Nonetheless, model or otherwise, if she's ungrateful for what you do for her, it's because she doesn't value it. And girls who value very little have the loyalty levels of zip to zilch. I think I can speak for all thanks-giving girls alike when I say no thanks.

- Lost, lonely, little girl.

I have a ton of girl acquaintances, a fair number of close girl friends, a handful of super close girl friends, and one best friend and one sister, both of whom I would trust with my life...or my last piece of cheesecake. We all stay in pretty much constant communication (maybe a little too much -- I know what my sister eats everyday for every meal and vice-versa...seriously) whether it be via perpetual texting, or in-person hangs. While this sounds excessive, most girls are the same way. While men can be lone wolves of (usually) cultivated mystery and aloofness, women tend to be sharers who bond by doing exactly that -- sharing. (One need only watch the Friends episode where Rachel encourages Ross to share with his guy friends the way she does with her gals to see the benefits.) If a girl says you're her only girl friend, or that she, and I quote "usually doesn't get along with other girls", well honey, it's for a damn reason. Girlfriend is going to screw you over...and soon. Such ostracized members of the female sex tend to thrive on 1) male attention and 2) competition. You'll get in her way and she'll cut you down, or she'll step on you on her way to whatever top spot she deems hers. Pass.

-  Too much, too fast....and not in a good way.

We live in an era of fast friends. You meet out through friends once or twice, you have one solid day time hang, and suddenly you're posting inside jokes on each others' Facebook walls, pre-gaming together before every club outing and proclaiming "OMG loooove you!" all the freaking time. I've been there, you've been there, we've all been there. I'd say one in every twenty of these friendships turn out to be the real thing while the rest...well let's just say easy come, easy go, especially when you're an easy (friendship) ho. Girls that tend to latch on and get all up in your life way too fast just strike me as...odd. There's no need for a friend to social climb over all normal boundaries to either date all your friends or befriend all your friends. It's creepy. It's weird. And there's probably a reason she's running away from her life and taking over yours. Obsessive relationships are for junior high kids and bad movies. (Hello, Swimfan.)

- (Don't) save our souls.

A wise man once told me "You can't save everybody Sheila." Sure, this was at an afterparty at 4 a.m. and that wise man was not sober, but the gist of his words was accurate. I have this habit of finding lost girls and wanting to save them through being there for them...endlessly. This has perhaps been the most acute lesson of my twenties when it comes to friendship: you can't help those who don't want to help themselves. I've been burned more than a few times by still giving myself to such friends who have hurt me simply because I know their lives are more messed than mine will ever be. But alas, some people are beyond my capabilities, or more accurately put, just don't wanna change. Self-loathing, torn families, tragic incidents and substance-fueled pasts don't have to mean dark presents or futures...but if a friend has no desire to change, then c'est la (or c'est their) vie. Not yours.

Finely honing your bitch-dar takes a little know how and a lot of experience. At the ripe old age of 26, I can say I've had a sufficient amount of both the former and the latter. There's no need to be cutthroat or cold about any of this -- but perhaps a little perspective will help with this guide: friendship is a privilege, not a right, and by now I know to bestow this privilege only on those who I see fit. Add positively to my life, or don't add to it at all. Happy honing, my darling readers! Scorned, schmorned...ain't nobody got time for that. x

Online Dating - Yay or Nay?

While gorging on lobster spoons and too many desserts during lunch the other day (and really, all good conversation should occur in between bites of lobster spoons) my friends introduced me to an online way of meeting people I had never heard of. And by meeting, I mean potentially banging. After whipping out his iPhone and opening the app, my friend swiftly swiped his hand over the screen, each time revealing the Facebook profile picture of  a girl which he either yayed or nayed. What was this ridiculousness? An app called Tinder. Should some girl you yayed also yay you -- and voila, you now have the feigned online confidence to send her all the creepy winky emojis you'd like.

I was baffled that there was even the demand for an app like Tinder to exist. Is this what we've come to nowadays? Starting interactions based on (likely Photoshopped) Facebook selfies that turn into a series of well-calculated, overly-wrought interactions that lead to, what I can only imagine, are painfully awkward real life meetings? It appears so. Perhaps I'm one of the rare hopeless romantics left out there, but any, seriously any, real life meeting is more romantic and natural than some contrived shoving together of online personas. Seriously, ANY. Drunken club meets look like Ariel and Prince Eric in the canoe compared to this crap.

 Those browsing on something like Tinder probably aren't looking for lasting relationships...but what about those of us who are? Is there a way to meet a legit candidate online that doesn't make you want to lie about how you've met to people when they ask? Sure, the stigma of online dating is less than it was, say ten years ago, with young professionals leading insanely busy, no-nonsense lives -- but still, we can all admit it's not an ideal beginning. "And mommy met daddy by desperately searching through countless trolls and deciding he was the least hideous of the list. Ahh, romance."

I've signed up for eHarmony before. Once, while my then-boyfriend looked on as we laughed about what matches would pop up, and again just recently for the sake of this post. (Yes, I've already deleted the profile and no, I didn't respond to any interactions. Observation only, kids.) Their maudlin, everlasting-love themed commercials always do a number on my sappy self and if I was going to sign up for any dating site, I decided it would be this one. So, dear bloggees, what did my experience reveal? Basically what I thought going into it. It's creepy. It's weird. And it feels awfully unnatural. (Upon revealing that I had signed up for an account to my sister over brunch, she promptly looked horrified, told me to delete it, and said that I was 'prey' just waiting for online lurkers to hunt me down. This did not help.)

After filling out an extensive personality questionnaire which included sections on morals, looks, lifestyle, and more, I was shown my potential 'matches' who were specifically picked out for me. And I must say, the pickings were slim. Despite being 5"10, anti-sports and urban-minded, I kept receiving icebreakers from outdoorsy, sport-loving 5"6 men from small towns outside Toronto. Fail, eHarmony. Fa to the ail. Regardless of the not-so-plenty of fish in the online dating sea, I just couldn't get over the concept of it all. There's no mystery, No whimsy. And not a shred of wonder to any of it. Even if Channing Tatum had appeared in my matches, I could never bring myself to send an icebreaker over the freaking computer to a guy I was potentially interested in.

The whole experience merely reaffirmed what I already know: I'm a hopeless romantic living in a non-romantic world. Woe is me. But I'll take my chances in the real world of meeting people over the constructed world of meeting profiles any day. All the info I had listed on my profile is meant to be revealed over candid conversation, flirty arm touches, too many whiskey sours and, most importantly, over many, many lobster spoons -- not over clicks of a keyboard. Until next time darling bloggees, I'll see you in the flesh and blood. x
 

Universal Heartbreak, OMFG

Heartbreak....the universal equalizer. No matter how nice, how caring, how beautiful, or on the contrary, how scummy, ruthless and less than lovely one is, we have all been heartbroken by the time we're in our mid twenties. It's the one experience that brings us down to Earth, and one we can all relate to. I've heard two people who have entirely nothing in common...even a slight hatred for each other...bond over deep conversation of a messy break up. Once you've had that gut-wrenching, devastatingly empty feeling hit your stomach and work its way up to your heart, all you want to do is share the misery with others.

Why have I chosen to revive my darling little blog over such a dismal subject? Take a wild guess. Oh, that's right, I've just been equalized. Just a little over a year after already being equalized SO harshly that I thought I'd never experience an equalizing ever again. Turns out, I was wrong. I'm beginning to think I've a slight penchant for sadism when it comes to my love life. Every guy I've fallen for seems to agree.

All right, all right. I won't go all pity party on myself. This break up is actually (praise the heavens above) a lot less painful than my first was. Nothing quite gets you like first love...we're all a little wiser after that psychotic, spellbinding and utterly magical experience we go through with the first people we are mutually infatuated with. No, this time around I've been something of a schizophrenic headcase. It's a little wallowing in misery followed by overly feminist man-bashing followed by analytical "where did it all go wrong!?" bouts, and capped off finally with am I a good person?! Is he?! spazzes. (Yes, and to-be-decided are the answers to those, in case you were wondering.) This is all interspersed with social media creeping and torturing myself with touching memories we shared all but two weeks ago.

The silver lining on this cloud of gray is that I firmly believe everything happens for a reason. It has thus far in my life, and will continue to. Something, or some one, leaves your life so you can appreciate some one better soon on their way. We are one hundred percent of the time exactly where we are supposed to be in life at that very moment. Skeptics may write this off as comforting malarkey us down-in-the-dumps souls use to make ourselves feel better but to them I say talk to me in a year. I guarantee you I will be happier in all areas of my life than I am today. You live and you learn -- it's really that simple. All that matters is progress; otherwise you're just standing still.

So even though I'm hurt and bewildered (this one unraveled quicker than a loose thread on a cashmere sweater) I'm functional and logical...and wiser. The first two aspects far eluded my first break up. If something can so quickly go from good to horrible to worse, than it wasn't what I thought it was in the first place. Anyone who is nice to you while you're together but horrible to you the second you're done was never a nice person to start with. Let's hope the next fiasco is less of a fiasco and more of a keeper.

Wallowing and sad I still am, but there's nothing time, a few good nights out, and copious amounts of Nutella and whatever excuse of a food I use as my Nutella vessels, cannot cure. Do I feel worthless? Not at all. Valueless? Maybe for a second but that quickly passes. Mostly I just feel human -- susceptible to falling in love when least expecting it and the vulnerability and hurt being in love inevitably brings. The great universal equalizer strikes again. Been there? Of course you have. Haven't we all.
x

OMFG - Friends With An Ex

I had dinner with an ex the other night. Not an ex but the ex. My first love who shattered, put back together, and shattered my heart again at least three times during our tumultuous (and that's putting it mildly) three year run. And it was, dare I say, a pleasant experience. Is it possible, that despite the hell we put each other through less than a year ago, we are now able to be friends? Apparently so.

If my ex and I are able to be friends, I can say with a large dose of certainty that most exes can find a spot in the friendship zone. We were, and I cannot stress this enough, volcanic together....pure red lava flowing from every faucet of our bond. We drove each other insane. I think of some of the actions I executed while together with him -- actions that at the time I proceeded to carry out as if they were perfectly normal -- and realize just how close to being exiled to an asylum I was. The same went for him. Passionately in love, sure. Psychotically close to the brink of total sadism, well yes, that as well. At the worst of times we made each other truly miserable and yet here we sat just a few nights ago laughing over our failed attempt at love over Pad Thai and greasy spring rolls.

The experience was liberating and one that made me feel ever so mature. Mature -- the very word gets thrown around carelessly in our twenties; most of the time as a way to try and differentiate oneself when drama arises. (Example: "OMG. I'm way too mature [eye roll] to even care what that bitch said about me. Like way. Too. Mature.") I'm guilty of being the girl who cried maturity on several occasions (us damn twenty-somethings...we've always got something to prove) but this time it wasn't total bullshit. It was a genuine feeling of calm and honesty; two things I never felt while we were dating.

We're not robots, of course, and memories are still memories. But, with enough time apart to get over any residual enabling emotions and the shared goal of actually wanting to be friends, the dinner occurred sans ulterior motives on either end. Why bother, you ask? Because I rather be friends with shared memories than strangers with a shared past. Care, for me at least, isn't an item that comes with an expiry date. It is strictly non-perishable.

As we verbally sifted through our romantic history, there was no nitpicking of this transgression or that indiscretion but simply a recap of the good times. It's true what they say; when you think back on all the big moments of your life, it's the joyful ones that stick the most. Does time heal everything? Nope. But it sure does give us room to grow. Damn, I'm mature.

x

Shit happens. Keep calm & move on....OMFG

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

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

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

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

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

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

OMFG - Academy Award Inspired

It's Sunday evening and after watching the Oscars, I'm feeling inspired to write. The show was classic, timeless and elegant: all ideals I try to emulate in my life. (And, much like the Oscars, I have my slip up moments; Angelina's right leg, I'm looking at you.) What struck me most about the Academy Awards this year were all the truly heartfelt acceptance speeches. Not one was typical and expected, but instead each was emotional and graceful. It seemed less about the achievement and more about the relationships that brought each person to that moment Consider me smitten.

Unless you're made of stone or a robot (Sure I'm kidding, but I've met many people who come pretty darn close) it was hard not to get choked up during at least one moment. (Octavia Spencer with a win that the whole crowd was happy for was especially poignant) Meryl said it best when she accepted her Best Actress Oscar thanking not her agent and manager, but all her friends she's made throughout the duration of her lengthy career. Well that's just the best endorsement for maintaining friendships that I've ever heard!

I went out five times this week which honestly isn't that unusual for me. Granted I work promoting so three of those nights were in my own business interests, but I wouldn't do it unless I loved it. And I do. There is nothing that energizes me more than going out, having ridiculously good times with my friends and meeting new people. Friends of friends, others who work in the industry, and like-minded people in general all make for networking connections, and some times even evolve into great friendships. Whoever said you can't meet good people at clubs has never been out in Toronto.

I've made more friends from going out than I have from school, modeling and every other significant part of my life combined. And I'm not just talking about partying acquaintances (although there has been no shortage of those) but friends who I see daytime, and actually know well! For every ten duds I meet who have nothing to contribute to life, there's the quality person I meet who is driven, interesting and engaging. I find I have so much in common with my fellow club-goers, usually because of our shared enthusiasm for good times and making the most of life in general. Rarely do I connect closely with people who stay in every night...call it a difference in what you want to get out of life, but whether I'm single, in a relationship, and everything in between, having an overly-active social life in glam venues is a constant. (And glam is key here...it's not like I'm hanging out at Republic five times a week. Let us all collectively shudder at the thought.)

Life, for me at least, is knowing where you want to go and who you want to go there with. At twenty four, I may be still figuring out where I want to go, but I definitely know who I want to be with. My family. My friends. My love. That first is decided, the second I choose and third is still up in the air. Another thing about the second? There's always room for more. Here's to an inspiring Academy Awards and acknowledging all the people we connect with on our way to greatness...x

A Little (More) Perspective....OMFG

My dream job would be to work as a journalist for National Geographic. When I was little, my siblings and I would delve into my dad's subscription of the magazine and get lost in the otherworldly images of sharks underwater, citizens of far away countries and more. They represented everything that was foreign and mystifying to us as children...and it was fantastic to let our minds wander. Now, as an adult, I still love all things National Geographic! As thought-provoking as it was when I was younger, the only difference is now, things don't seem as foreign. They're understandable and intriguing and most of all inspiring.

When I was 18, I did what all 18 year old's do: some predictable act of teenage rebellion! For me, this was getting a tattoo (what would become the first of a few) and I decided on wings on my hips. Less slutty than it sounds (no really, they're tiny and lovely) what it meant to me was perspective. To fly up above and see things from another perspective, if you must have it spelled out for you. Putting things into perspective keeps me positive and ambitious....it can be so easy to get caught up in our own lives and forget that there's an entire world out there that awaits. I might as well of gotten "National Geographic" or their famous yellow rectangle logo tattooed on me!

As the year winds down, we all inevitably get into self-reflection mode. Instead of going over your personal drama from the year (decide what is worth it and what is frivolous, and don't bother wasting time on anything that fits into the latter category....easier said than done but worth it) gain a little perspective! Here are National Geographic's annual Year in Photos for 2011 and the winners of their 2011 photo contest! I was blown away. Beautiful and stunning and truly intelligent.

My personal favorites:
Part 2, 14 - I'm a hopeless romantic...romance for the sake of romance and nothing else in the midst of violence? Swoon.
Photo contest, 12 - My ex and I had a fascination with Great Whites that bordered on obsession....a mixture of fear and....well, more fear made it so we watched every shark movie under the sun. Sharktopus included. This picture is my greatest fear but I have no doubt that I'll do it one day!
Part 1, 24 - A delicate reminder that a midst all the shock, trauma and debris of the March tsunami that hit Japan, what they took time to save were memories and reminders of the future. Also, more proof that Asian babies are the cutest. I mean...look at them! No contest.

Enjoy!
x

OMFG - Eat What You Love...A Haut Appetit Connection

As Toronto Fashion Week takes over the city, models once again are in the spotlight, ready to be scrutinized by the media, fashionistas and the general public. Whoever said modeling was an easy job has never done it -- only those with thick skin should apply. Thick skin, however, is the only part of a model that is allowed to be thick as rail-thin is still the ideal body-type. I don't care how many fashion organizations vow to use models with body types of a certain BMI, or cast "curvier" models every once in a while: fashion has always featured extremely thin women. Everything else is simply for good publicity or sympathetic smiles from the fashion elite. We're all dying to be thin, thin and thinner.

Well, not all of us! I've been lucky enough to be naturally quite thin (while still being able to eat as much as I please for the most part) and find that the girls I become close friends with in the industry share my view on food: eat what you love, just don't stuff your face. I've never been one for extreme dieting, unhealthy means of staying skinny (read: laxatives and other unpleasant forceful removal..), juice cleanses or anything else along those lines. It's all too impractical for me. Life is for living, and that, in my opinion, includes ordering dessert when out for dinner with your boyfriend, making grilled cheese when you feel like vegging out and doing nothing at home, or sampling all the various gourmet hor dourves when at a party. Anyone who has the willpower to censor themselves every minute of the day with food is probably not the happiest...after all, a starving model is never a happy model. Give me the happy glow of a well-fed woman over the grayish tinge of an emaciated waif any day.

My closest friend from modeling, Elizabeth Minett, (or Minny as I call her) shares a similar philosophy when it comes to chowing down: mainly that we both turn into miserable cows when hungry, and become gentle purring kittens when with a bellyful of delights. Minny and I first bonded a couple years back when we met during a fashion show we were both in....a week later and we were sharing gossip over late-night greasy Chinese food after a night of clubbing. Chow mein? Yes please! Chicken balls? Why not! Fried rice? Of course! It was love at first bite for Minny and I and we've had many a food adventure in whatever city we happen to be in together since then. (Cupcakes in New York, pub fare in London and sushi in Miami, just to name a few!) To know there are other models out there with beautiful figures who enjoy food as much as I do was, and is, refreshing. Minny lands more than her share of jobs making it clear that girls who eat are not just happy, but damn sexy as well!

Minny + cupcake = <3

Minny is a baking enthusiast and has parlayed her passion for all things ooey, gooey and delicious into a blog of her own which follows the world of haute healthy eating from the perspective of a stunning model. We recently took a cupcake tour of Manhattan stopping at several well-known cupcake shops and sampling treats at each one to take tasty notes for her to blog about post-meal....a pumpkin cupcake at Sugar Sweet Sunshine, a vanilla bean cupcake and banana cream pie at Magnolia, a sugar-free cupcake from The Little Cupcake Shoppe...suffice to say it was heavenly!

While sitting around and indulging in cupcakes everyday is not the healthiest of lifestyles, it was a lovely way to spend a day. Don't get me wrong; neither of us chows down on burgers and fries daily, but we do eat when we're hungry and enjoy desserts just as much as we enjoy healthy foods. I feel sexier, happier, and most content when my body is at its natural weight as opposed to being a frail five or ten pounds lighter which would fit industry norms. I don't allow modeling to dictate what I eat, and more importantly how I live my life, and would much rather share a tapas dinner with friends than sit alone at home counting how many grapes I'm allowed that day. Minny and I have gossiped over late night Chinese, chatted over spicy salmon rolls, discussed life crisis's over slices of cheesecake and had girl talk over salads. Food is friendship for us and is part of the equation without a second thought; which is exactly how it is in both our lives. Fashion week, Schmashion week! Girls, once again I re-iterate: eat what you love, but don't stuff your face (unless it's on really good cupcakes..) and you'll be lovely as ever on the inside and out.

For a Minny & Sheilakins approved recipe, Flourless Chocolate Walnut Cookies (Big. Fat. MMMMM), go to Minny's Haut Appetit Blog here!

Haut Appetit's Flourless Chocolate Walnut Cookies!