The Woman with the Broken Glasses

I was ushered into the room quickly. I was late, but I didn't mean to be. I was told the meeting started at 10 am sharp - but it had already begun and it was 9:45. I grabbed a seat next to a girl with black hair and piercings. I was dressed like I was going to a formal interview - black dress pants, a nice top and a blazer. I put on my glasses because I look smarter when I wear them, plus they help me see better. A heavyset man with grey hair and wire framed glasses was already speaking. I flipped open the workbook and tried my best to follow along. He was going over the various services and resources the employment centre offered. I made little notes in the margin next to sections I felt were relevant to me. I've been out of work since mid-January and really needed to get focussed on my career and goals. It's not just about a job, but a life. A life for myself. I felt out of place. I was just as unemployed as the rest of these people, but I felt like I was being judged by them for appearing more put together. But as we all know, appearances can be deceiving.

Across the table from me was an older woman - maybe late 40s to early 50s - with blond hair tied in a short ponytail and black framed glasses. She had a simple black turtleneck sweater on and jeans. She seemed very positive and upbeat and didn't seem to mind when the man running the session used her as an example for things. I looked at her I something seemed a bit off. Her glasses looked crooked on her face. I was probably being rude by staring, but I couldn't figure out why they were so angled on her face. She turned and faced profile and that's when I noticed it. Her glasses were missing an arm on the left hand side of her face. They were just suspended in air, hanging on only by her right ear.

I thought, "shit, this woman seems so confident and positive, yet she's outwardly falling apart." Her glasses are attached to her face by a quarter-inch piece of plastic curved around her ear and nothing more and this is how she must face the world. If this woman can come to a meeting and speak to all of us publicly then, hell, I can do this too. I can change my life and get my shit together. My glasses are held together by two arms, but I'm decaying from in the inside out. It's not too late for me. And it's not too late for her either.

I'm now looking forward to my 30th birthday in April even more. I will, hopefully, be able to put my horrible 20s behind me and work towards something better. One step at a time and one bus fare at a time.

Feb 19/07

Going back through my old journals is strange. Most of the stuff I wrote was terribly depressing or obsessively girlie. Basically, I wrote about the boys I liked at the time. Sometimes things were hopeful and a lot of times things were desperate. But every-so-often an entry pops up that proves that I was actually a university student majoring in writing and English. On February 19th, 2007 (my last semester of university) I copied out the following quotation:

"Self-love is often rather arrogant than blind; it does not hide our faults from ourselves, but persuades us that they escape the notice of others..."

- Samuel Johnson

Now I'd completely forgotten about Samuel Johnson - he wasn't exactly a huge influence on my life or writing in a long-term way, but I imagine that I was reading something by him for my Reformation Literature class and this quote struck a cord with me enough that I felt the need to copy it into my journal under it's own dated page. I wrote nothing else on this page - just this quote.

I suppose 2007 Allison thought it was clever and true. I guess what Johnson was trying to say that being what we now call self-centred is a fallacy, that we believe that other's won't notice our faults because we think so highly of ourselves. I probably had a firmer grasp on the subject back then - when I was in the midst of studying. But this is what I get from it now.

So I turn the page and find an entry from February 20th, where I'm back to talking about boys. Guess my academic side didn't really shine through much in these pages and pages of self-indulgance. I guess the reason for that is that I'm not comfortable talking about boys out loud with my friends. I do it a bit, but not really. I would feel too silly giggling like a girl talking about how I thought so-and-so was cute, or maybe whats-his-face ACTUALLY likes me back? So I funnelled all that crap into my journals.

So basically, I'm going to have to demand that they be burned when I die. Maybe the Samuel Johnson quote can stay. Then people can say, "Wow, she was such an intellectual." Ha!

You Just Don't Get it

You should just write a book.

So I'm unhappily unemployed right now - for over a month now. It's been tough, let me tell ya! So of course everyone has their own take on how to solve this problem and not many of their solutions are viable or appealing. So here is a list of these suggestions and my take on each and why it's stupid:

1. Move out of province

This suggestion came from a girl who did just that. But this was all she said, "move to B.C." Didn't actually give me any sort of suggestion as to how or why that will help me at this point. Since I have negative money, I can't really afford to pick up my life and move across the country right now. I can't even afford to go out for coffee right now! Plus, I see this as running away from my problems. I live in the province that people love to hate because it's where, supposedly, there are more opportunities. If I can't make it happen in Ontario, I doubt I can in another province.

2. Work at a bar

Guys, I'm almost 30. My looks, if I ever had what society deemed attractive, have faded. I don't like to stay up late much anymore and frankly, I served enough assholes when I was a barista. Being a bartender/server means serving DRUNK assholes. I think I'd get fired for punching someone in the face.

3. Work for a newspaper

This is a conversation I have with many acquaintances (Facebook or otherwise):

All of them: "What was your major?"
Me: "Professional writing."
AoT: "So why don't you, like, work at a newspaper or something."
Me: "It doesn't really work like that..."

Newspapers are not hiring. And if they are they want someone with 2-5 years experience in a similar position. The only jobs you can get to start at a newspaper are unpaid internships. I did that already, when I was 22. Not doing it again at almost 30. I have too many bills to pay to work for free.

4. Start a blog (ha!)

People seem to think that blogging is a good way to launch a writing career. But I feel like that's like telling an actor to do community theatre and a Hollywood producer will probably call you to audition. Unless I'm willing to blog about babies or makeup or fashion, I think I'm out of luck. And I'm not going to make a guy 10000 hamburgers and blog about it so I can get internet famous. I blog for fun, but I think if this were to become a job it would be like a chore and I'd want to stop doing it.

5. Go back to school

Ugh. Guys, I've told you a thousand times, I already went to school. Why would I want to go back? I have an honours bachelors of arts degree collecting dust, why add to the pile. Plus, I don't know what I want to do with my life, so how would going back to school help? I would probably end up more lost, and more in debt. Or deep into something I hate (like business school or something boring). I just wasn't made for the practical education. If I were to go back to school it would be for something like pottery or to become a tea sommelier.

6. Write a book

This, like the "work at a newspaper" suggestion, came from people after finding out what I majored in. These people don't know anything about the book publishing industry and think that I must just be able to write a book and become rich. Bing Bang Boom. The truth is that I just don't have a book in me. I might have a collection of short essays in me, but not a book. I was never very good at creative fiction, even though I read a lot of it. I think I'd never be satisfied with my own work because I'd never be able to reach the caliber of writing as some of my favourite authors. Their books remind me that I just can't write a book.

So there you have it. So stop giving me silly solutions to complex problems! I'm actually seeking help at an employment centre later this week, so hopefully they steer clear of all of the above suggestions.

The Pig Farmer and His Sow

So thanks to THIS video from Buzzfeed (the website that specializes in time-suckage) I discovered a "secret" folder in my Facebook messages inbox labelled "other." I clicked on this folder and saw a bunch of spam-like messages but one that looked real...ish. I really wish I never opened it.

The messages were dated two years ago (2012, for those of you bad at math). During the winter of 2012 I was in a serious relationship with a guy who travelled a lot for work. We had had our problems - and there were people hell bent on breaking us up, but I stood by my man. By winter, though I wouldn't have admitted it out loud, our relationship was in decline. He wasn't calling as much, or replying to messages till days later. He was slowly breaking my heart. Long story short, we were broken up by Spring.

Back to these messages - someone with a Facebook account (real or fake) knew my ex and had clearly seen photos of the two of us together and decided to send me this message, only I never saw it until today. I'm warning you, this message is pretty vile:

Honey. Your love with Stephen is all a lie! Even us gay men know! He's a cheating lying dog who likes to fuck pigs like you. You smell like barn feces and your cunt has more warts that a hogged nosed wart pig. WAKE UP! You ugly mouthy pig faced troll bitch. If I ever see your ugly face I will puke all over you. Looking at your picture of the farmer with his sow makes me vomit. Don't think think he just fucks women because he screwed my best friend Richard and gave him a fucking an STD in Saskatchewan. It was all bare back (without a condom)! You are so dumb! What do you think he does on his travels?

Pretty awesome, right? It's not everyday that a complete strangers calls you an ugly pig (and that's putting it nicely). I'd love to say this individual left it like this, but no, he messaged me a again a month later (a reminder, these messages are from 2012).

We found some pictures of you at the Gladstone... What a lovely snout you have you sow... Where is the pig farmer? Using his pitchfork to draw your sorry Ugly FAT Ass?

Yeah, so this message included picture attachments taken at The Gladstone, a well-known Toronto bar/restaurant/hotel, where my picture was hanging. Lucky me, right?

So today, basically two year's after these horrible messages were sent to me I discover them and I'm not going to lie, I was rattled. I was rattled that someone would go out of their way to be so hurtful. And while this relationship is dead and buried, I can't help but drum up the past when I read stuff like this. The sender of this giant ball of crazy is no longer on Facebook, so I can't even defend myself (two years later). I certainly will not be messaging my ex to ask him about it. Sadly, when I saw the pig-faced girl paintings I thought, "huh, that kinda does look like my hair."

I'm trying to be adult about this and brush this off as the scribblings of a mad man, but it's still hurtful. I'm still a person on the other end of a computer. I don't understand what would possess someone to write something like this and actually press send. To take these photos and send them to me. I was on this person's mind so much that they saw these pictures and said, "hey, that looks like that ugly pig-faced girl I messaged last month, I should send her these to show her that I truly think she's a piece of shit."

I told my friend I would write this post and try to make it funny. That I'd talk about the sow and her farmer in a humuorous way. It's so absurd because all of those things this guy wrote about me aren't even remotely true. I'm not even going to address the looks thing. But even if the things he said about my ex are true (though I'd rather not think about my ex having cheated on me), calling me a stupid diseased whore was way out of line. I keep seeing commercials teaching kids about cyber-bulling but no one's addressing the adults who should know better. It's easy to call someone a pig-slut through the anonymity of the internet - but why say it at all?

I'm glad this message went into my "other" box because had I seen it when I was supposed to it probably would have hurt even more. 2012 Allison was a fragile thing. She was in love with the wrong boy and this probably would have shattered her.

Why Watching Dogs is like Watching Kids

1) They won't shut up.

2) You bribe them with treats to shut up/come inside.

3) Messy eaters.

4) They hate sharing their toys.

5) You have to monitor when they poop and how often.

6) They keep you up late.

7) They wake you up early.

8) If one does something bad they all join in.

9) They don't seem to notice or care when they're dirty/smelly.

10) They're cutest when they're sleeping.

I'm going to just have cats for the rest of my life.

I'm cute but annoying!

The Surname Game

When I was born I was given a name, a first, middle and last. The first two were entirely up to my parents, and my last was a given. Most of us born in my generation or older have parents (if they're still together) with the same last name. It was just the norm to take your husband's last name upon marrying him. Funny enough my mom's maiden name is very similar to her married name, so it wasn't much of a jump for her.

I hadn't really given it much thought. When I was in first in the liking boys stage of life, around 11-12 years old, I thought it would be great if I married someone with a 'C' last name because then my new initials would be ABC. I otherwise didn't think about it.

As I grew up I began to change my tune. The novelty of the ABC name was still there, a bit, but I really started to realize what it all meant. My 2nd year Woman's Studies survey course really cemented it for me - I just couldn't take a man's last name because I have a name of my own.

As I've been single for a really long time, I'm pretty attached to my name. I'm used to writing it, filling it out on forms, and typing it into resumes. It's my name, and my name is part of my identity.

Today, I found out an acquaintance of mine eloped in Las Vegas - yes, real people do this. Not just in the movies, folks! She announced it today with a big Facebook post and, of course, her name changed. I even received a mass email from her stating that she was closing down that account and had opened a new email address using her new last name. I was just shocked at how quickly and effortlessly she was able to shed her former last name. It was as if she was just merging with him in a way that made it hard to tell where he ended and she began. She was now a Mrs.

I know I shouldn't be so judgmental but I must admit that when I see a newly wed on Facebook I am always disappointed when I see their name change. Even worse is when they haven't changed it (yet) and friends write, "so when I are you going to change your name to Mrs. _______?" These types of friends are the worst because, A) Maybe she's busy on their honeymoon and doesn't have time to update her status or B) She ain't changing it, bitch. So, when I see that a newly married woman keeps her name I applaud her. They are an independent woman with a supportive, forward thinking spouse. A hyphenated name is okay sometimes, depending if the name is a mouthful.

So what are the main motivators for changing your name? To just go with societal norms? Because you want to keep your new husband (and his family) happy? To not complicate things? To not confuse future children? 

Just to ruffle some more feathers, here are a couple more things I find outdated about weddings:

1) Having your father give you away (because your husband now owns you).

2) Bouquet toss - because all the single women want to fight over who will get married next. I will not touch that thing, nor will I fight over it.

You may now give me all your angry comments...GO!

How I Can Still Support the Olympics Despite All the Horrible Things Russia has Done.

When I was a kid I didn't understand politics. I didn't know that my uncle was gay, but he always bought me the best Barbie stuff. I didn't know that people abused animals because all the animals in my house were well looked after. I watched the Olympics because I understood sports and national pride. I watched because I wanted to see every event and keep track of how many medals Canada had compared to other nations. And this is still how I watch the Olympics, in spite of the knowledge I now have about the world.

When judging a country as a whole we have the bad habit of turning a blind eye to the beauty of a place - focussing all on the corruption of its leaders. Putin is not Russia. I'm proud to be from a country where Gay marriage is legal and is pretty much a non-issue. But of course there are things about Canada I am ashamed of (*cough* Rob Ford *cough*) but I wouldn't want people to assume that my whole country, province, and city are full of arrogant crack addicts. So yes, I fully disagree with the anti-LGBT laws in the former soviet country, but I don't think we should use that as a reason to hate on an entire country. There are, I'm sure, wonderful people and places there - some gay, some straight. So I'm not going to let a backwards, homophobic politician ruin the Olympics for me. I know that I don't think like him, so why should I feel guilty. These games are supposed to be about perseverance, determination and friendly competition and it only seems fair that participating nations get a chance to host. I think it is entirely possible to be both an activist and a fan at the same time. You can say, "This country's policy on _________ is wrong, but damn that Gold Medal game was fantastic." We tolerated China's games a few year's ago, I think we can tolerate this. Liking the Olympics doesn't make you a bad person - or a Putin supporter.

As for the stray dogs, the poor accommodations in Sochi, and other issues that have come to light as the games draw nearer, I am of course concerned. Every Olympics faces some negative backlash. Vancouver had to ship out all the homeless and junkies on the East side for their games. China fired all their smelly cab drivers and had a cute kid lip-sync a song sung by a less adorable child. And yeah, it sucks. These are not good things. But I feel like the athletes don't ask for this. The Jamaican bobsled team just wants to compete on the world stage - a spot they rightfully earned. I don't see why I can't support athletes for political reasons. The two don't even share the same mind-space for me.

So yeah, I wish that the gay community in Russia had more freedom, and I wish that stray dogs weren't euthanized, and that it didn't cost so much. But in the end, I'm going to watch and I'm going to feel something that isn't anger and hate. I'm going to feel proud and excited, and probably disappointed - but it won't have anything to do with my personal politics.

I'd also like to say that I'm not judging or faulting anyone who plans on boycotting because of the above reasons. I think they are valid and important causes. If you just don't care about the Olympics to begin with, well this just wasn't the post for you and you probably didn't read it, so you're probably also not reading this. Okay, I'm done now.

Heart-Shaped Jelly Donut

Single people are annoying on Valentine's Day - just as annoying as couples. I know because I've been both. I probably made people puke with my cheesy public VDay Facebook posts to my now ex-boyfriend. That said, I've definitely also complained about how stupid the holiday is and that I hate people in love - bah humbug style. Last February 14th I was neither.

Last year I spent this holiday in a hospital room eating a heart-shaped, strawberry filled, donut, waiting for someone I loved die. Last Valentine's Day I cried because I wanted my grandma to let go and move on and to not be in pain anymore. Despite all of this I felt more loved than I had on any other holiday because I was surrounded by family who also just wanted this nightmare to be over. Because of this I didn't really give the holiday much thought - I didn't feel lonely and I certainly didn't have time to selfishly complain about being single. Roses and chocolates weren't going to solve my problems, but that donut was pretty damned delicious.

So what will I do with my VDay this year? Probably nothing special. I'm still single, but that is fine with me. Maybe I'll go to Tim Horton's and buy myself a jelly-filled heart donut (after my workout, of course) and maybe take a nice hot bath and watch a cheesy 90s movie on Netflix. I'm not going to worry about what other couples are doing. I'm going to try not to get super pissed when I see other girls posting photos of their flowers on Facebook or their new pieces of bling. I'm going to try to remember that I don't need those things in life. I'll try to be happy for those who are in love. I'm going to try to do all of this because I have to remember where I was last year, and that is a much worse place to be.