awe-some: (adjective) Slang: very impressive.
Eeep. I've been rather tardy of late. My excuse is vacation. I was in good ol' Parry Sound last week and it was lovely. I had originally planned to blog while I was up there but days were spent at the beach and evenings were spent watching the Olympics and drinking wine with Mom. Much too fun to pass up for silly old blogging.
But I'm back now and I've got news. Big news. Awesome news. Super-dee-duper-tastic news.
I start my new job with Chatelaine on August 26.
It still really hasn't sunk in and I almost don't believe it, but it's true. Li'l ol' me at Chatelaine. How cool is that?!?!?!!??!?! Aah. Things are pretty good right about now.
Tuesday, August 19, 2008
Tuesday, August 5, 2008
The waiting is the hardest part
ex-pec-ta-tions: (noun) the act or state of looking forward or anticipating.
I have some. Big ones actually. For tomorrow. For better or for worse. And I'm nervous. And worried. And anxious. So I'm pretty much just being me. But tomorrow is where it's at. So we'll see what happens.
*deep breath*
I have some. Big ones actually. For tomorrow. For better or for worse. And I'm nervous. And worried. And anxious. So I'm pretty much just being me. But tomorrow is where it's at. So we'll see what happens.
*deep breath*
Saturday, August 2, 2008
On age
age: (noun) a period of human life, measured by years from birth, usually marked by a certain stage or degree of mental or physical development and involving legal responsibility and capacity.
I was at Second Cup today and while buying my latte picked up a voucher/flyer/thingy to do an online survey and win things.
When I had completed the survey, I had to select my age and immediately went for the "18-24" choice. I had to actually stop and think about how old I am. I'm 28. Sigh.
I was at Second Cup today and while buying my latte picked up a voucher/flyer/thingy to do an online survey and win things.
When I had completed the survey, I had to select my age and immediately went for the "18-24" choice. I had to actually stop and think about how old I am. I'm 28. Sigh.
Friday, August 1, 2008
Of money and happiness
pri-or-i-ty: (adjective) highest or higher in importance, rank, privilege, etc.
I've noticed something interesting lately. My mom and I talk about my job/work/career path regularly and she is constantly trying to get me to enter the public sector. (Aside: my mom works for the federal government.) She thinks I should gun for the government - provincial or federal - because the money is generally pretty good. So I've looked, just to see what's available and if there is anything that interests me. Thing is, pretty much all the government jobs I find I'm qualified for fall within the "administrative" category.
Now, there is absolutely nothing wrong with working in an administrative capacity. This doesn't always mean you're stuck answering phones and ordering Post-It notes. Depending on the job and the part of government, an admin job could be interesting and fulfilling and enjoyable. And, being government, much better paying than private sector. Thing is, though, I've made choices in post-secondary schooling that would hopefully allow me to find a career in an industry I love, doing something I love, and (ideally) making a good paycheque. Based on my schooling, I have decided that publishing is where I want to be. I love books and magazines and reading and words and all the stuff that goes into getting those words onto those pages that we can read. And I want to work in this world.
Of course, I did happen to choose an industry that can pay rather lower than one would wish, but I've done okay thus far finding gainful (enough) employment. And I continue to look and I am trying - really I am! - to get to a place where I can start to really build my career. My mom, though, wants what any mother wants for her child: a job that pays oodles. I would love to make some of those government admin salaries I see on the job boards, but only if said salary is attached to a job I really want to be doing.
And there lies the difference between my mother and I, at least where our respective careers are concerned. My mom has done her time in the workforce, she has had her share of jobs around raising two children and she is now at a place where she wants security and a steady paycheque that will (hopefully) increase year after year. I, on the other hand, am really just starting out and I'm still looking for that place where I can build a career. Maybe I'll never find that company I can spend 30 years at (does anyone even do that any more?) but at least I have found an industry I want to spend the next 30+ years working in. Even if that means working for less than my mother would like.
The trouble comes when I try to explain to my mom why I don't want that admin job with the province. I've worked too many jobs that make me miserable to be willing to risk continued misery for more money. She just wants to see me do well. Sometimes, doing well can't be measured by how much you take home each month.
I've noticed something interesting lately. My mom and I talk about my job/work/career path regularly and she is constantly trying to get me to enter the public sector. (Aside: my mom works for the federal government.) She thinks I should gun for the government - provincial or federal - because the money is generally pretty good. So I've looked, just to see what's available and if there is anything that interests me. Thing is, pretty much all the government jobs I find I'm qualified for fall within the "administrative" category.
Now, there is absolutely nothing wrong with working in an administrative capacity. This doesn't always mean you're stuck answering phones and ordering Post-It notes. Depending on the job and the part of government, an admin job could be interesting and fulfilling and enjoyable. And, being government, much better paying than private sector. Thing is, though, I've made choices in post-secondary schooling that would hopefully allow me to find a career in an industry I love, doing something I love, and (ideally) making a good paycheque. Based on my schooling, I have decided that publishing is where I want to be. I love books and magazines and reading and words and all the stuff that goes into getting those words onto those pages that we can read. And I want to work in this world.
Of course, I did happen to choose an industry that can pay rather lower than one would wish, but I've done okay thus far finding gainful (enough) employment. And I continue to look and I am trying - really I am! - to get to a place where I can start to really build my career. My mom, though, wants what any mother wants for her child: a job that pays oodles. I would love to make some of those government admin salaries I see on the job boards, but only if said salary is attached to a job I really want to be doing.
And there lies the difference between my mother and I, at least where our respective careers are concerned. My mom has done her time in the workforce, she has had her share of jobs around raising two children and she is now at a place where she wants security and a steady paycheque that will (hopefully) increase year after year. I, on the other hand, am really just starting out and I'm still looking for that place where I can build a career. Maybe I'll never find that company I can spend 30 years at (does anyone even do that any more?) but at least I have found an industry I want to spend the next 30+ years working in. Even if that means working for less than my mother would like.
The trouble comes when I try to explain to my mom why I don't want that admin job with the province. I've worked too many jobs that make me miserable to be willing to risk continued misery for more money. She just wants to see me do well. Sometimes, doing well can't be measured by how much you take home each month.
Thursday, July 31, 2008
Shocked
vi-o-la-tion: (noun) a breach, infringement, or transgression, as of a law, rule, promise, etc.
Okay, so I'm sure everyone and their uncle has heard about this and I'm sure we all share the same feelings of horror and shock and disbelief.
And I know it's being considered completely random, as I'm sure it was. But I've been taking buses for many years - a bus being the most convenient and economic choice for going to Parry Sound - and I never really stopped to think that there is no security. No one checks luggage. No one scans luggage. No metal detectors. No assigned seats. It's a free-for-all, really. Buy your ticket, show up for any departure time that leads to your destination and off you go.
It never occurred to me to think about the lack of security or potential for danger. And to be honest, I kind of liked not thinking about it. I liked the idea of taking a safe, friendly, open means of transportation to my safe, friendly, open home town. Even if no one ever gets hurt ever again on any bus ever in Canada, I will forever feel just a bit nervous, a bit more on edge, every time I board a bus. And that makes me sad.
My heart goes out to the family of the victim. I can't even imagine what they must be going through. So horrible, so sad.
Okay, so I'm sure everyone and their uncle has heard about this and I'm sure we all share the same feelings of horror and shock and disbelief.
And I know it's being considered completely random, as I'm sure it was. But I've been taking buses for many years - a bus being the most convenient and economic choice for going to Parry Sound - and I never really stopped to think that there is no security. No one checks luggage. No one scans luggage. No metal detectors. No assigned seats. It's a free-for-all, really. Buy your ticket, show up for any departure time that leads to your destination and off you go.
It never occurred to me to think about the lack of security or potential for danger. And to be honest, I kind of liked not thinking about it. I liked the idea of taking a safe, friendly, open means of transportation to my safe, friendly, open home town. Even if no one ever gets hurt ever again on any bus ever in Canada, I will forever feel just a bit nervous, a bit more on edge, every time I board a bus. And that makes me sad.
My heart goes out to the family of the victim. I can't even imagine what they must be going through. So horrible, so sad.
Tuesday, July 29, 2008
Between the past and the future
face-book: (noun) a publication for an organization, such as a school or business, which helps members identify each other; also, an online version of this, with profiles including a picture, name, birthdate, interests, etc. ***I love that there is a dictionary definition for this word***
While my infatuation with Facebook has started to wane, I do find there are things that still fascinate me with the site. Most recently, it has been the advent of profiles of my little cousins (i.e. children of my first cousins) and our subsequent "friendships". Two things have profoundly struck me from this.
1 - These are kids whose diapers I used to change. Kids that I played Thomas the Tank Engine with. Kids whose hands I held while they toddled along, figuring out how to walk. Kids who now post pictures of themselves in twisty gymnastics poses and graduate grade eight and get jobs and it makes me feel old. I'm not old, not by far, but this make me feel old.
2 - The next generation of children cannot spell. I would say it's atrocious if I didn't find it so damn frightening. Sure, they've got all the LOLs and OMGs and ROFLs down no problemo. But they don't know "your" from "you're" and they miss letters and spell names differently from picture to picture. C'mon! When you make a typo on Facebook, a little red squiggly line appears under it so you know it's wrong!
So I feel old, but I feel smart, but I also feel afraid, as this is the generation that will one day lead this fine country and be in charge of me in my geriatric days. I can see us all now rocking out in The OMG Home for Hipster Seniors - LOL!
While my infatuation with Facebook has started to wane, I do find there are things that still fascinate me with the site. Most recently, it has been the advent of profiles of my little cousins (i.e. children of my first cousins) and our subsequent "friendships". Two things have profoundly struck me from this.
1 - These are kids whose diapers I used to change. Kids that I played Thomas the Tank Engine with. Kids whose hands I held while they toddled along, figuring out how to walk. Kids who now post pictures of themselves in twisty gymnastics poses and graduate grade eight and get jobs and it makes me feel old. I'm not old, not by far, but this make me feel old.
2 - The next generation of children cannot spell. I would say it's atrocious if I didn't find it so damn frightening. Sure, they've got all the LOLs and OMGs and ROFLs down no problemo. But they don't know "your" from "you're" and they miss letters and spell names differently from picture to picture. C'mon! When you make a typo on Facebook, a little red squiggly line appears under it so you know it's wrong!
So I feel old, but I feel smart, but I also feel afraid, as this is the generation that will one day lead this fine country and be in charge of me in my geriatric days. I can see us all now rocking out in The OMG Home for Hipster Seniors - LOL!
Monday, July 28, 2008
A fork in the road?
cri-sis: (noun) a stage in a sequence of events at which the trend of all future events, esp. for better or for worse, is determined; turning point.
I had a moment of crisis yesterday. Well, two moments if you count my inability to find the Dominion along College St., as I was convinced it was at College & Grace and only after wandering up and down Grace St. did I decide I should perhaps move a little further west and - much to my delight - discovered the Dominion at College and Crawford. I suck at geography. Always have. Always will. I don't think Mr. Jamieson ever did forgive me for carrying on with history.
Anyhoo...
Back to the crisis. As I didn't have my iPod with me on this shopping trip (by choice, as I do enjoy listening to the sounds of the city from time to time) I found myself becoming rather introspective and trying to figure out what it is I should do next. This thought stream sprang from the fact that it was Sunday and I was facing another work week at a job I'd rather never return to, which led to contemplating the various drastic things I could do to keep from returning to said job.
As I was saying...
I began to truly, honestly, seriously consider packing it all in and laying down roots somewhere else. Where? Well, Halifax popped into my head, if only because I know a few people out there. Kitchener also came up, as I have family there I could stay with while getting established. La belle province came and went as fast as one can say "parlez-vous Francais?" (non) and even - shudder - the possibility of returning to the Parry Sound-Muskoka political riding-area-place-thing. But of course (of course) none of this is because I want to pull up shop and plop down somewhere else and restart my life. It's because I think I've done a pretty damn good job of getting myself established in Toronto. I've got good livin', I pay my bills on time and pay down my loans and still have a bit left for some fun times, I'm well-educated and happy with my schooling (yes, despite my grumblings about York U., I don't regret it). No, the whole idea of moving came from the fact that I would rather uproot myself and cram all my belongings in the back of a Discount rental cube van than go back to my job.
Of course, once I was back home I thought things through a little more clearly and (of course) came to the logical conclusion that all I have to do is stick it out and keep looking and trying and striving to make it better. Because I've been here long enough now and I've come too far to just walk away because of one bad decision I made. And considering the abundance of bad decisions I have made and survived, I know I can get through this one too.
And remember when I said I had that feeling, like something was going to happen? Well, slowly but surely, that is coming true because things are happening....how they affect me has yet to become clear but it's happening. Giddy up.
I had a moment of crisis yesterday. Well, two moments if you count my inability to find the Dominion along College St., as I was convinced it was at College & Grace and only after wandering up and down Grace St. did I decide I should perhaps move a little further west and - much to my delight - discovered the Dominion at College and Crawford. I suck at geography. Always have. Always will. I don't think Mr. Jamieson ever did forgive me for carrying on with history.
Anyhoo...
Back to the crisis. As I didn't have my iPod with me on this shopping trip (by choice, as I do enjoy listening to the sounds of the city from time to time) I found myself becoming rather introspective and trying to figure out what it is I should do next. This thought stream sprang from the fact that it was Sunday and I was facing another work week at a job I'd rather never return to, which led to contemplating the various drastic things I could do to keep from returning to said job.
As I was saying...
I began to truly, honestly, seriously consider packing it all in and laying down roots somewhere else. Where? Well, Halifax popped into my head, if only because I know a few people out there. Kitchener also came up, as I have family there I could stay with while getting established. La belle province came and went as fast as one can say "parlez-vous Francais?" (non) and even - shudder - the possibility of returning to the Parry Sound-Muskoka political riding-area-place-thing. But of course (of course) none of this is because I want to pull up shop and plop down somewhere else and restart my life. It's because I think I've done a pretty damn good job of getting myself established in Toronto. I've got good livin', I pay my bills on time and pay down my loans and still have a bit left for some fun times, I'm well-educated and happy with my schooling (yes, despite my grumblings about York U., I don't regret it). No, the whole idea of moving came from the fact that I would rather uproot myself and cram all my belongings in the back of a Discount rental cube van than go back to my job.
Of course, once I was back home I thought things through a little more clearly and (of course) came to the logical conclusion that all I have to do is stick it out and keep looking and trying and striving to make it better. Because I've been here long enough now and I've come too far to just walk away because of one bad decision I made. And considering the abundance of bad decisions I have made and survived, I know I can get through this one too.
And remember when I said I had that feeling, like something was going to happen? Well, slowly but surely, that is coming true because things are happening....how they affect me has yet to become clear but it's happening. Giddy up.
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