Cheeriolala

There goes my hero

2011-02-22T23:08:00.000-05:00

Three years ago I met my hero. She was awesome. She did things she, and probably everyone who knew her, thought she could never do. When from the outside, it looked like everything was falling apart, she was keeping it together, drawing on magical super-powers that helped her bounce back up from every little trip and stumble.

Ever since that time, I've been trying to be just like her. I reflect back on her every move and see if I can replicate what she had achieved. Yes, I know that it doesn't do us any good to compare ourselves to others or even idolize them, but it gets a little tricky when that idol is you.

One of the joys of my new job is the commute. Although I live less than 5km away from the office, it takes me an average of 40 minutes each way to get there via transit. Don't get me started on how ridiculous Toronto's transit situation is because the amount of expletives I'd have to use would be sure to get some sort of censor's attention. But I digress. It seemed that my co-workers who live in the same area got around the annoyance by simply walking to work, so a few weeks ago, I decided to brave the Canadian cold and make the trek by foot. 50 minutes. Again, don't get me started.

But this whole walking business has been a bit of a blessing in disguise. I actually really like it. It's a good time to do some "mental sorting", as my sister likes to call it, and to walk through Toronto streets while signing out loud to whatever is playing on my iPod. My apologies to those who are suffering from premature cringe lines along my route. But it's also a time when I'm blessed with little epiphanies. Today's epiphany (ok, there are not epiphanies *every* day), was this: stop idolizing who you were.

Indeed, the person I was three years ago has been my hero for as many years. Her 13 year relationship disintegrated and pretty much everything about the life she'd known up until then crumbled with it, and instead of hiding from the world, she carefully stepped out of the rubble in kitten heels and a checkered mini, dusted herself off and went about the business of being as fabulous a girl as she could be. And not just because she thought she should, but because she knew she was. She exercised, she ate well, she tried new things, she made new friends and she dared to be different. All was good.

As we all know though, time doesn't stand still. I continued to evolve, and sometimes, I'd find myself in tough situations. Scary, crap-your-pants kind of stuff where you're forced to ask big questions and do your best to answer them. And in typical Sylvie style, I'd always try finding my answer by asking another question: What would Sylvie do?

Oh yes, "what would Sylvie do?" Such a wonderful yet completely irritating question that I unfortunately answer from the perspective of a three year old, rattling off every activity that would fill my schedule and habit that would shape my actions. And for the past three years, I've been trying to mimic those things, trying desperately to tap into those Sylvie super powers. Maybe I need to work out more to blow off steam. Maybe I should try to fit into my size 3 pants (dear God - I can't get started on that ridiculousness). Maybe I need to go back to eating yogurt every afternoon with grapes and sliced almonds in it. Maybe I need to have the same haircut as I did then. Maybe I need to find another pair of those apple earrings I lost that summer. Maybe, maybe, maybe. Oh barf. Please.

Now that I realize it, I see how ridiculous it is. I have put the me that I was on some sort of pedestal, but if I try hard to put myself back into the head-space I was in back then, I hardly felt that I had it all figured out. And I didn't.

I don't quite know how to stop doing it, but I'll give it my best shot. The best I can come up with is that the Sylvie from then did what she had to do, and it's led her to where I am now. I'm not the same person, and I'm not in the same circumstances. But yes, I can certainly do my best to do what needs doing.

But there is one Sylvie super-power that I've admired the most, and lately, I have needed it so badly but found it to be missing whenever I called upon it. The heroic me went through some tough times and she shed more than a few tears, but somehow, she'd always manage to set it aside after a few minutes. She'd say "Crying isn't going to fix anything, and it's not much fun anyway. Go do something else and stop being so sad." She was so smart. And it always seemed to work. I've been finding myself on tough times again lately, and what's made it even tougher is that telling myself the same thing never helped. I couldn't convince myself to stop crying. Or to stop being so sad. I know that it's important to live through our feelings, but sometimes, you just know you're not doing yourself any favors by wallowing in them, and it's scary when you can't stop. Especially when you used to have that ability.

But today, something happened. I was at the store and I was in tears. It wasn't much different than it's been so many times over these last few months, that is until I stopped. My super power was back. My magical lens zoomed out and gave me the perspective I needed. Sure, something was upsetting me, but I had plenty of other things to do and I carried on with them. I don't know how and I don't know why, but I did it. Thank you Super Sylvie.

An update, but not upbeat

2011-02-21T18:10:00.000-05:00

It's been a really long time since I last wrote. I've thought about my blog often, but in the end would always stay away. I've said before how it's hardest to write when you don't have anything good to write about. When you're sad and angry and what you want most is to hide from the world until it all goes away. And I've often said how it's precisely during those times that writing is what helps me most. What helps me get through things and see them in a different light. At this moment, I'm doubtful that it will help, but it's all that comes to mind. So here goes.

I'm not very happy. At all. I have all the material things one needs to survive and to thrive, really, but none of it makes me happy. I think back to times in my life when I had so much more and I get angry that it's all gone. I'm angry that I don't have a house anymore, even though I never liked the one I had and was never happy there in the first place. And I'm even angrier that I don't have my nice little apartment in the West end. I'm angry that my savings are all gone. I'm angry that my hair is so short and it makes me feel like a boy. I'm angry that I feel fat even though I haven't gained weight since the last time I felt happy about how I looked. I'm angry that I took a year off to find myself and never did. What makes me angriest of all though, is that even if you reversed any or even all of those things, I probably still wouldn't be happy. Which begs the question: What the fuck is my problem?

I try to tell myself that being happy is state of mind, and if I just get into the right zone, everything will be fine. But I've been looking all over the place for that stupid switch and I just cannot find the god damned thing. Then I tell myself that if there is something I don't like, I should change it. But how should I go about that when I can't even imagine what I would trade it for. It's a bit like walking into a public bathroom stall, throwing your outfit over the wall without anything else to wear. Although I must admit that being arrested for public nudity would shake things up a little.

I don't know whether to love or hate the optimism that lives deep down inside of me and just won't die. It's responsible for getting me out of bed in the morning and not completely losing it. It also tries to feed me appreciation for what I have, but some days all I can do is gag. When I pass a homeless person when I'm walking to work, it tells me to be grateful to have a home, a job, and the legs to carry me there. The homeless people particularly scare me; I always feel that with a few small changes of circumstance, it could be me begging on a street corner. But then I get angry again. I don't mind the idea of going to work, but I don't particularly like my job. As much as I tried to be optimistic at first and these days to simply make the most of it while I'm there, I don't like it. But the job is what keeps the roof over my head.

Am I insane to believe that we could all do something we're passionate about? That it would be work and pay our bills, but wouldn't feel like it? That we'd devote hours to something each day and feel energized instead of drained? That we'd be bursting with great ideas and inspiration instead of stifling groans and resentment? I know that some people agree, but many others think it's crazy. Sometimes I wish I could just convince myself it was crazy and put the idea to rest, but I just can't. Instead, I'm the one that feels crazy.

I guess it's because at times, I have been passionate about my work. I have gotten up in the morning excited about what I might achieve that day. But that hasn't happened in a long, long time. I've tried to find new passions, but they quickly fizzle out. I don't know if I just give up too easily or if I haven't just hit the nail on the head yet. I've always told myself that when I found the right thing, the doors would open, but none have. I also figured that if I was passionate about something, I'd have the will and energy to fight for it. That hasn't happened either.

I'm tired of sitting here waiting for things to happen. But I'm even more tired of trying to make things happen when they won't. I'm just plain tired. A nap sounds good, but a bit of passion and excitement for life would just be so much better.

Hey Dad! Look who's a model!

2010-11-30T20:02:00.000-05:00

Back when I first moved to Toronto, I had a hell of a time explaining to my Dad what it was that I was studying in college. I was enrolled in a program called Fashion Arts, which interestingly enough, didn't have much to do with art at all, but instead, was all about marketing and promotion for the fashion and cosmetic industries. Whether it was the name that threw him off or just his disbelief that someone could actually go to school for this kind of stuff, I don't know, but whenever conversation turned to school, my Dad would always ask me "So what is this course about again? You're going to be a model or something?" Sigh.

Recently though, I did have the chance to play the model. The hair model! And in this particular case, I didn't have to look like the girls you see on the fashion runways - I just had to be brave enough to let someone dye my hair a bright shade of red for the L'Oréal Professionel INOA Revolutionary Reds contest. Being the adventurous gal that I am, when I saw that Tianna Gerrior, a participating hair stylist, needed a volunteer, I signed up!

When I walked into Hair Château, the salon where Tianna works, I wasn't sure what to expect, but after a quick chat, it was clear that she had some dramatic inspiration - she was going to transform my hair into a head full of fire! Now I could describe the process, but in this case, I think photos will be a lot more amusing.

First things first: the lighter the hair, the brighter the colour. Blonde, here I come!

Eeek! Good thing I didn't stay here too long!

And we have fire! And me making the facial expression
I imagine I would have were I actually on fire. Funny, I haven't
gotten any calls from any modelling agencies yet.

Well there you have it - my very brief stint as a hair model. If you'd like to have a look at the other hair transformations that were entered into the contest and vote (you also get a chance to win a year's worth of free INOA salon hair colour services), just follow the steps outlined here.

Sleep to dream

2010-11-23T22:57:00.000-05:00

It's been almost two weeks now since I've been living smack in the middle of the big city instead of skyline viewing distance, and my only regret is that I didn't do it sooner. Not only does our little apartment afford us an awesome view of Lake Ontario, down below, there is plenty of stuff to do - whether we're on foot or taking the transit. With this being the first month in the center of it all, I decided to splurge on a transit pass, and I've been amazed at how quickly I can be whisked away to all sorts of places, all in less than 10 minutes. People watching and window shopping are becoming some of my favorite things, and yes, there are many, many, many coffee shops that offer free wi-fi that I can choose from. Sure, we caved and got internet at home, but why stay there when there are so many places to see!

I'm so relieved that I'm feeling this way. Over the last few months, an intensifying feeling of paralysis had been coming over me, one that I wasn't just sure how to escape. I didn't always feel much like going out, and when I did, I didn't have the first clue where to go and what to do when I got there. It's hard to describe, but I basically was just out of "get up and go", which isn't like running out of flour; you can't just run over to your neighbour's house to borrow a cup.

This new energy has made me feel much more optimistic about looking for and going back to a full-time job. Only a few weeks ago, I couldn't imagine how I would find the time in a day to go to work, cook, exercise, write etc, etc, etc... Sure it sounds silly - you probably do it every day and are just fine. And you probably add taking care of your kids to the list too. I felt completely overwhelmed at the idea though. Not to mention the fact that I would get up to do one thing, start something else and get completely sidetracked. It felt like a slo-mo version of attention deficit disorder. Maybe I should see someone about that...

Is this a new page turning in my life? I really hope so. I'm just really, really tired of looking for this "something else". This nameless thing that's gotten me in such a tizzy like a dog chasing its tail. I've had the time to learn all sorts of stuff and discover new things, but I'd like to stop obsessing about finding my one "passion" and dreaming up a big dream for it so that I can make it come to life. The beauty about dreaming is that it's supposed to just happen naturally. Have you ever tried to go to sleep and make yourself dream? Oh and make sure it's a good one too! I've never had any luck doing that sleeping, and doing it while I'm awake hasn't gotten me much further either. All the dreams that are still near and dear to my heart have come about quite naturally. And any others that have been masquerading as such have managed to frustrate me in a very short time.

So dear Universe, I would like to come back to living, doing and being. And whenever the dreams do come, please give me the wisdom to take a moment to savour them, the determination to see them through and the energy to knock 'em out of the park.

Life can stink on the bus or even at Starbuck's

2010-11-11T15:05:00.001-05:00

I'm in Starbucks. Again. And do you know what else is here with me? A really bad smell. The man who brought it in with him is gone, yet the odour lingers on the big chair only two feet away from mine. While he was here though, I kept glancing over at him. If you've ever been on a crowded bus, you know the drill. You're minding your own business, breathing the air contained in your imaginary bubble, when all of a sudden, something smells foul. Is it a fart? A person sleeping with their mouth open wide, exposing everyone to their smelly, smelly morning breath? Maybe someone hasn't washed. In a week. You look around, tyring to spot the offender. AHA! You found him. Or her. You start to wonder how the heck they manage to go out in public like that, dragging with them such a stench. The bus can be boring. You need to find ways to entertain yourself.

This same little game, which has kept me quite entertained for a good part of the 12 years I've been living in the big city, isn't quite the same these days anymore. Up until now, when I would spot the "hasn't washed in a week" variety, I would always figure that the person was down on his or her luck, and wonder what twists and turns life had thrown at them to bring them into a situation like this. Recently though, this has all been replaced with a feeling of panic. What if the person was someone just like me? Or maybe someone who had a big dream. Someone who risked everything for what they believed in. Someone who followed their heart. Who relied on the Google Map that is their gut. And got lost.

I don't know if it was the extra hour sleep from Daylight Saving's time, but when I woke up on Sunday and saw the bright sun outside that 7:30am had brought with it (I'm sure 6am had some lovely sun too, but I missed that), a big, urgent thought pushed itself to the front of my consciousness. "Sylvie", it said, "did you know that it's been almost a year since you've held down a steady job? And amazingly enough, the Acadian hasn't run away yet. Will you stop doing this to him and to you now? Please!"

It was a very true thought. And it got my attention. Surely, if someone were to devise a test to determine a man's devotion to his girlfriend, what I have put the Acadian through since January would rank among the best of them. Although that wasn't the point of any of the experiences we've been through together, the awesomeness of my boyfriend has been a huge ray of light during what have often been murky days, and I thank my lucky stars each day that he has a penchant for a foul-mouthed, short-haired, pig-headed woman who may very well have lost her mind while playing in last winter's snow.

Also very true is that I'm tired of doing this to myself. The plan of doing only things I love? Good. But is that how it's going? Not so much. Although it's been interesting working in the jewellery store, it's not doing much for paying my bills. Yes, part of that is the fact that I make $11 an hour. The other part of the problem is that so far this month, I've worked a grand total of 14 hours. Do the math.

And although a lot of people would love having so much time to themselves, well, I have had many, many, many hours of free time this year, and I think I've pretty much gotten the urge to do whatever it is I wanted, all the time, out of my system and I just think it would be really nice to be useful on a more regular basis.

Up until now, the idea of going back to a marketing job scared the crap out of me. A few months back when I decided to start up the search again at the urging of the Mean Lady, I had these visions of late work-nights, stressful meetings and having to put on a mask to hide the crazy person that I am, because surely, no one would want someone as wacky as me working for them. Well at least not knowingly.

So here is the newest tweak to my "do what you love" plan. I actually do quite love marketing. Some aspects of it bother me, like when I worked in cosmetics marketing for instance and realize how most of the gimmicks out there preyed on women's insecurities about their looks. But there are a lot of great industries, wonderful products and awesome causes out there that I could be working with. And I'm sure that my creative thinking skills could be put to good use for one of them, even if some people think I'm a little out there sometimes. And so, the new goal is to find a marketing job doing something I believe in, with people I respect, with a group that will accept me just the way I am and where I can get to work on all sorts of exciting projects.

It may take a while to find something that fits the bill, but I figure I've already come this far, I might as well make it worthwhile. So the search is on! And um, if you have any leads for anything that matches my wishlist in downtown Toronto, you know what to do.

Well steal my peg-leg and call me crazy!

2010-11-08T12:59:00.000-05:00

ARRRRRRRRR! Arrrrrrrrr... That seems to be the word of the day today. As I was walking on over to this here Starbucks in my brand new neighborhood, I was thinking it. Then I walked past a disheveled man carrying a torn up garbage bag, flailing his hands madly, who was screaming it. And even the little dog waiting impatiently outside the coffee house was barking it. Frustration - or craziness - is in the air my friends, and I've been bitten by this bad, bad bug.

But first, an update, because it's been about two weeks since I've written, and in that amount of time, I've managed to do a number of things that would make a normally sane person crap their pants. (So far though, I'm still good in that department. Phew. Not pew.)

- The Acadian and I are moved in to our new apartment high above the treetops of our new downtown Toronto neighborhood. It's cheaper, it's smaller, and gosh darn it, we love it!
- I got my hair cut and then cut again. I must wait a while now for more to grow in before I get it chopped some more.
- I've been working at my new job in the jewellery store which has so far been a very interesting experience in watching high-end consumer behavior.

Earmuffs: lost. :-(

- I lost my most favorite (and only) pair of earmuffs on the first chilly day that I cracked them out of the winter clothes box. I'm still hoping they find their way back to me. They hung around close to my brain a lot - maybe some of my smarts migrated into the fabric, in which case I desperately need them back.
- I broke one of my favorite bowls. You know, the one you see at the top of this page on the left-hand corner with some of my favorite earrings hanging off the edge (so far, those are still in my possession). This is fresh news to the Acadian. Sorry hun - we're down to 3 now, and watch out for shards of porcelain the vacuum missed in the kitchen. Ha! Who am I kidding - the vacuum misses NOTHING!
- We gave up the internet, and then a week later, caved and signed up for it again.
- I gave up my iPhone data plan too. Tomorrow is the last day for that - let's see if that sticks.
- We also gave up the car. For like a half day. Hey - at least we tried! And then yesterday we thought it was broken. It wasn't. Phew!
- I had a meltdown in a Canadian Tire store. Details are still fuzzy, but it involved waiting in line for ten minutes on what was apparently the wrong side of the counter and being denied the right to return a sink plug bought on the previous day. Thank you to the Acadian for going back yesterday, when the ban on returns had ended and reclaiming our $8 and some odd cents. And am I the only one who thinks it's fundamentally wrong to have a Canadian Tire in the Eaton Center only steps away from H&M? Mom - please ask Dad about this. I'm sure he agrees.

Poltergeist? No... Right?

- It was the Acadian's birthday last week, and Google Maps sent me on a wild goose-chase for a Dairy Queen with a parking lot (You don't want to take an ice-cream cake home on the subway. At least I don't think you do. I didn't.) I found one though, Google Maps be damned! And we ate it. All.
- I tried to take money out from the ATM and it said my available balance was $0. Yeah, that wasn't fun. I fixed that though. Sort of.
- We briefly had poltergeist in the apartment last night until we discovered that it was only a set of drum microphones that had fallen from way high up. Again, phew. I don't know what I fear most - bedbugs or poltergeist. And the mics are fine, thank you. Seems most drum-related equipment is made to take a beating. Ha!

Well, I guess that about sums up the happenings of the last two weeks. Oh, and I also spilled half a bottle of laundry detergent into my shoe. Not here at the Starbucks, but the other day in the laundry room. I did 6 loads all at once you know. Could have done more but would need more clothes. Aside from all of this though, things are fundamentally good, even if I don't really feel that way. Well, now I actually feel quite a bit better, but until I got to this Starbucks just moments ago, you'd have sworn I was speaking pirate. And even before the poltergeist incident last night, I had barely slept a wink. I've been making lists like a mad woman, wondering which item I might tackle first to soothe the anxiety that keeps building up inside of me. And then, finally, I remember that the best thing to do is write. How it always makes me feel better. How it's what I like to do. Phew.

Guilty pleasures or fashion crimes?

2010-10-25T23:57:00.000-04:00

Not a kitty, but apparently
cuddle-worthy nonetheless.

Every now and then, I have the opportunity to watch myself, from the viewpoint of the guardian, while my Inner Child is doing her thing. When I catch myself in a moment like this, I usually get a good giggle out of it, but today, I was a little concerned. During my lunch break, I wandered over to Winner's, a popular Canadian designer discount chain where both the Inner Child and I were taken by a pair of very cute although highly impractical leopard print Betsey Johnson peep toe stilettos with platinum heels. The "guardian me" looked at the price tag that read $129, meanwhile, the inner child made pretty faces at the shoes and proceeded to pet them, with the grain of the fur, of course. That's when I started to wonder if the fashion deprivation I've been going through lately was akin to cutting off the oxygen to my Inner Child's brain.

Since the end of summer rudely ushered in the realization that none of my fall clothes fit me anymore, neither me nor the child have been happy campers. With one skirt, one pair of black pants and a pair of jeans to my name, my wardrobe options have been pretty limited when I'm faced with occasions where my legging clad butt just isn't appropriate. And thanks to all those pull-ups I've been doing at the gym, a slew of my tops, my favorite dress, my fall jacket and even some bras don't fit anymore. I'd rather have the muscle than a tag with a smaller size in my clothes, and have since brought a good portion of my wardrobe to a consignment shop to see if I can at least raise a bit of cash to buy a few new things (the bras aren't for sale though, sorry), but in the meantime, it's slim pickings for me. And it sucks.

Alright, so she's a far cry from Audrey
Hepburn, but if someone's gonna give
Peg Bundy credit for being a fashion icon,
it might as well be me.

The fact that my fashion personality can change from one hour to the next makes it even worse. One day, I'll feel like dressing in a respectable, classy outfit only to throw it off a few hours later for something inspired by Peg Bundy (hence the love of all things leopard). I'm in need of some intense fashion therapy, but unfortunately, if there is a medical benefits program that covers it, I'm not aware of it or else I would have signed up ages ago.

I know that clothing - as in the kind that keeps you warm and on the legal side of that fine line that separates us from indecent exposure - is on the list of basic necessities of life, but what about cute clothes that fit well and make you feel good? When I started exercising and went down a few sizes two years ago, buying a whole new wardrobe didn't seem unreasonable at all, and in fact, it felt quite necessary with pants falling off of me. But this time, I feel guilty about it. Perhaps it's because the difference between then and now is that last time, I had the money to buy such things. But if clothes don't fit, they don't fit - whether they are one size too small or 5 sizes too big. And there is apparently no correlation between the size of my butt and the amount of cash in my bank account either.

While we are on the topic, I'm starting to think that I have guilt issues that need some resolving. Not only am I feeling bad about this impending mini shopping-spree, but I noticed today that I can feel guilt at the drop of a hat when I'm at work. And I would really like to rid myself of this icky emotion. Now that I've had a week back in my old office environment, I've been able to examine what makes my work brain tick from a whole new perspective. I've found that I very much like getting things done. Being busy? Awesome! Keeping the ball rolling? Woohoo! Waiting on email replies? Ok.... I'm starting to get edgy, but I'll be ok. Having to push the pause button on a project until I hear back from a third party? Why, no, I'm not PMSing, that's genuine irritability you're sensing there. What's this, now everything is at a standstill until I hear back from my contacts? So I can't get *anything* done? Although it may look as though I have ants in my pants, it's just me feeling extremely uncomfortable with the fact that I'm not being productive, which leads me to feel - yes - guilty.

I've had it hard-wired into my brain that when I am at the work, I'm supposed to be working. You know, getting stuff done, making things happen. So what happens if nothing is happening? If I've done all I can and all that's left to do is wait? I seem to equate this with doing a bad job, and I really don't like doing a bad job. Nobody else thinks I'm doing a bad job though, but I do, and it makes me feel horrible. Guilty. And very stressed out. And all over nothing! In fact, I'm getting stressed just writing about it now. And while I do, my guardian, the observer hidden deep down inside of me, puts on her spectacles, leans in and lets out a "hmmmmmm..." as she bites down on the nail of her index finger while taking a good, close look a me in all of my freakish, guilty glory.

So if I realize all of this and see it happening, shouldn't I be able to just talk myself out of it and spare myself the expense of a therapist? So far, it's not working. I seem to have this need to please people and not only meet and exceed their expectations, but also my own. In most other areas of my life, I've been able to relax and ditch this guilt, but not at the office. Not at this office anyway. Bespectacled Sylvie wonders if it has more to do with the fear of letting down co-workers who feel like family than it does with being a productive little worker bee. But she has to stop examining me for now - the Inner Child, fascinated by her glasses, has nicely asked to try them on and is busy getting finger prints all over the lenses. Well, at least my wallet is relieved that she's gotten her mind off of those shoes.

I went to work and I liked it

2010-10-21T22:52:00.000-04:00

Today is day 6 of my "working streak". After spending two days at my new job in the jewellery store, I headed back to my previous employer's office for the week to help out while most of my old co-workers are away in sunny Orlando. Despite that, I still like them.

When my alarm went off at 6am on Monday morning, it seemed to set off another little bell in my head that made me suddenly realize that I was going to do the 9-5 thing that day for the first time since February. "Whoa!" I thought, "and I want to go to the gym *before* I go to work?", at which point I promptly jumped back into bed for another hour (hey - I'm low maintenance; less primping = more sleep).

As I made my way in, I noticed the differences between my experience the last time I went in to work and now. Driving instead of taking the subway? Dumb idea. New doorman at the office building who actually opens the door? Nice. A full size fridge and a wide selection of tea in the company kitchen? I do a double take. Really? Had this been there in January, I may have never left.

So this being "work" and all, I get to it. At first, it's a little strange, but after a few hours, I realize how everything about it is so second nature to me. I'm amazed that the drawer in my brain where all this info was kept hadn't been cleared out to make room for Rihanna lyrics (my favorite of which would be "I want you to love me, like I'm a hot pie." I don't know if I should shake my head, throw up a little in my mouth or sing along).

During my breaks, I find it amusing to ride the elevator with other "office" people. One man goes on about how inappropriate it was that both his cell phones were ringing during a meeting in a room where a sign had been posted asking people to shut off their mobile devices. He makes sure to say one of those devices in an iPhone. Twice. His companion offers him a piece of Nicorette gum. On the street, a woman in high heels talking loudly to the man walking with her smacks me with her oversized handbag as she gestures, not really noticing she'd just passed another human being.

Then, I indulge in my most favorite office ritual: the coffee. As I approach the counter, the barista recognizes me and asks how I've been. I notice all the other office people rushing around while I take my time to enjoy something as simple as buying a coffee. I jaywalk across the street, knowing just the right timing between the traffic lights. Emails are coming in. People are responding to me and they remember who I am. At the end of the day, I chat with the night doorman who seems as intrigued and slightly perplexed as most of the world is when I tell them about what I've been up to this year.

Call me Norm, but it feels a little like walking into Cheers. And it's nice. What makes it all the more interesting is seeing the whole day and all of its little moments from the perspective of an outsider. I don't rush frantically like the others I've observed around me this week, but I know all too well what it's like to be in their shoes. Even stranger is realizing that people actually remember me, have noticed my absence, or in some cases, have just assumed I had just always been there, like the basic staples in your kitchen pantry. For much of my life, I was hardly even noticed by others, much less missed.

Actually being useful has been nice too. As much as I've been searching for my greater purpose in life, I haven't really felt that I've had even a minor role to play on a day-to-day basis all this time I've been off. It's helped me feel more confident about going in to the jewellery store for my next shift there on Saturday too. There is something about starting something completely new that often makes me nervous and self-conscious, and this week has been a reminder that I do in fact, still have a functioning brain and that there is no reason to second-guess my abilities.

I'm amazed at how keeping an open mind and simply observing, just being, has taught me so much this week, and I'm even more surprised and proud that I actually managed to do it. Maybe those hamsters in my brain are hibernating for the winter. Oh, let's hope! In the meantime, I'd better take my cue from them and hop into bed. After all, I am going to work tomorrow.

Oprah, I'm not sure what Dr. Phil would have to say about this...

2010-10-20T22:23:00.001-04:00

Back in August, I went to go see my hairstylist and made a strange request; “Can you cut my hair so it looks longer?” I asked. And she did, which is precisely the reason that I love this woman. My hair hasn’t been this “long” in over two years now, and I’ve had mixed feelings about the short bob that I’ve been sporting lately. Yesterday, for no specific reason, I decided I’d had enough and it was time to chop it off again, so off to the newsstand I went to hunt down one of those hairstyle magazines.

When I got there, I was greeted by Oprah. Well not in person, but her smiling face was staring at me from the cover of the latest issue of her magazine, along with the headline “What’s Your True Calling? An Easy-Does-It Guide to Finding (and Fulfilling) Your Life’s Purpose”. “Oh leave me alone Oprah!” I thought. This entire year, I’ve been reading one article, book, blog - you name it - after another, promising to help me discover “my true purpose” and the only conclusion they’ve help me come to is that apparently, I’m supposed to be a confused wanderer who gets really frustrated when she finds yet another article that claims it can solve all her problems.

After ignoring Oprah for a while, and in the process finding a nice hair mag that will hopefully lead me to a great new cut next Friday, I picked up her magazine to skim through the article quickly. My first thought was “Wow – Oprah isn’t full of shit!” There were *several* articles that actually related to the headline on the cover. That's right - no misleading headlines that lure you to useless crap that has nothing to do with what was promised on the cover. I mean seriously, can anyone out there claim that they’ve had the “Best Sex EVER!!!” thanks to something they read in Cosmo? Anyhow, I digress. So off I went on my merry way, with Oprah in tow.

After spending my lunch hour today reading through the magazine, I was actually a little bit excited! It's not so much that any of my problems were solved by what I read, but it was more that I was consoled by the fact that I'm not alone. There are other people out there like me, who know they are supposed to be doing something else but just can't fit it into an existing career box.

One article in particular struck me. The author suggested that we have an animal side to us that instinctively knows where to go. "Yes! Yes! Yes!" I thought when I read that, "that's me!". I don't have a good, sound, logical reason for wanting do to do half the things I want to do, but what I do know is that there's something inside of me that feels it's right. She outlined a step by step exercise that we can all do to try and "track" our animal, like you would an actual beast in the wild. To get started, she says to make a list of what you were doing at times where you felt happy and in your element. You're not supposed to think too much about what it all means, or how they fit together - just list! So here goes...

I'm happiest when...
I'm hanging out with my family and acting like a total goof, while making rude and inappropriate jokes that I don't publish here.
I'm writing to this blog and sharing what I think, no matter how crazy, stupid or insane it may seem to some.
I'm CrossFitting, doing things I never thought I could do and that most others likely wouldn't believe I could do just to look at me, sweating like a pig, swearing like a sailor, and making rude and inappropriate jokes that I don't publish here.
I'm making people laughing and feel at ease when they were stressed out and tense only a moment ago.
I stand out, whether it's through my clothing, my hair, or just being me.
I'm baking chocolate chip cookies.
I'm joking around with friends, throwing around quick-witted banter, most of which is inappropriate and I don't publish here.
I'm doing something really child-like, like making play-doh and playing with it for hours, having a Nintendo marathon and eating candy, making up stupid stuff to confuse other people and then laughing about it, and not worrying about what time it is, how many calories I'm eating or how silly it's making me look.

So basically, what makes me happy is acting like a foul-mouthed 5 year old who has a sweet-tooth and is endlessly amused by pee-pee jokes.

Now the next step in the experiment is to figure out where your "animal" would likely go next. So let's say that in my case, if there is a function on the Merriam-Webster website that will correctly sound out the pronunciation of words through my computer's speakers, it's a smart bet that upon learning about this, my animal will be there in a matter of seconds to look up words like "shit" and "motherfucker". Again, I digress. But you get the point - you look for things that you haven't tried before but that are linked to your circle of activities that make you happy, and you go out and try them! And if you're not crazy for the first thing, you find another and keep going from there.

Sure, it's not foolproof, but I think this is a fun way of going about it. I've kind of been working at this in my own way, although I found that making that list of moments where I was really, truly happy really helped bring a few things about myself to my attention: I love to laugh, push limits, stand out and make people feel at ease. Oh, and I like sweets too. I'm not quite sure what all of this means, and how - and even if - it all fits together, but it sure is interesting, and if anyone out there has any epiphanies about my true life's purpose or would like to offer me a lollipop to entice me to streak at an upcoming sporting event or perhaps tomorrow morning's subway commute, then please feel free to comment below.

There is one thing that I thought I would try though. A little while back, I took some improv classes with The Second City Training Center in Toronto. It was fun, although I must say I did feel a little uncomfortable after one particular class where my teammates and I got some weird looks and comments from the others about getting "carried away" with our skit. I'm sorry, but if there is one thing I won't let the boys one-up me with, it's dirty jokes. Ok, yes, I did have a point here with this paragraph... So I was checking out The Second City's latest course offerings, and there are a few here that I am thinking of taking. I'm not considering any of these as career training by any means, but rather as an experiment to see what I learn about my animal in the process. So I'm considering the next level of Improv class, Stand Up 101 or Comedy Writing. Feel free to weigh in on what I should take and I may or may not take your advice.

So thank you Oprah, for helping me get to the core of my foul-mouthed, giggly, sugary existence. And if anyone has new words that my animal should learn to pronounce with Merriam-Webster (oh come on, I know you must have tried it!), well there just may be a cookie in it for you if you share.

Happy Dance

2010-10-15T22:55:00.000-04:00

I have something rather embarrassing to admit. Well, it's embarrassing to me anyway. Although I can appreciate many different types of music, over the years, I've mostly stuck to the louder, angrier, more rockin' variety of tunes. Every once in a while, I would download a catchy dance tune but was quick to bury it deep down in an obscure list on my iPod so that no one could discover my dirty little dancey secret. But that was the extent of it. So why, at some point last week, I had a sudden urge to listen to dance radio stations, to the point that I programmed four of them into my car stereo, was an utterly puzzling and ~~slightly~~ very shameful mystery to me, even if I bopped my head to Lady Gaga all around town.

From listening to Toronto's dance music stations, I quickly learned that...

1. They all play a rotation of a maximum of 10 songs, over and over, as opposed to the 20 songs played by my favorite alt/rock station.
2. If it's not a Rihanna song playing, then it's a song where it's "Some Artist, featuring Rihanna", and if there is no Rihanna at all in the song, it's a sure sign that someone has hijacked the airwaves.
3. Dance music is a whole lot happier than the usual brand of "fuck you" music that I'm accustomed to listen to.

My new brand of "fuck you" music

I don't know if my recent craving for what I normally refer to as crap music was just foreshadowing things to come, but I'm feeling a whole lot happier these days, and today has ranked as quite exceptional on the scale of goodness.

For the next week, I'll be heading back over to my old employer's office to help them out with a few projects, and gym rat that I am, I thought I would try to get my workout in before I headed downtown to meet with my old boss to hear all about my latest mission. (It all seems so much more exciting when I think of myself as a spy who may come across a self-destructing document at any moment. So far, all destruction witnessed has come at the hands of someone else in close proximity of a shredder.) I had hoped for a quick and "easy" workout, which is stupid, because in CrossFit, there are never any easy workouts, but hey, I was still asleep this morning when I checked the gym's website to find that Fran was there, waiting to ~~greet~~ bitch-slap me.

Fran is not a person, but she is indeed a hell of a bitch. If you are interested to see what the workout that goes by this lady's name is like, you can watch this video and listen to Dolly Parton all at the same time. Before you do though, a short disclaimer: the two athletes in this video are kicking some serious ass and although I did go through the exact same workout as them, there was a lot more time, swearing and stopping to shake my arms out while swearing involved than what you see in this clip. And thankfully, there is no video evidence of this mornings efforts.

If you think this is bad, you should've seen

what Fran looked like when I was done with

her. Ok, that's just trash talk. We all know it

It took me 17 minutes and 17 seconds to do what you see Annie doing in roughly 2 minutes and 40 seconds here. Sure mine isn't a great Fran time, but this marked my very first time doing this workout as prescribed, with the asterisk, no modifications required, real pull-ups and all. It's a milestone that's up there with graduating high-school. Only instead of walking out with a diploma, I left with a torn callus. And a whole lotta happy. I remembered the day times two years ago when I bugged my trainer at the time, incessantly I might add, that I wanted to do pull-ups like the guys. I had wanted to do just one. Today, I did 45.

With the morning off to such an exciting start, I headed off to my meeting next where it was almost eerie to see how easily I was able to sink back into some of my old roles at the company. Knowledge I hadn't given a second thought to in over 7 months was right there in one of those handy little drawers at the back of my brain, right where I'd left it. Although I was a little nervous at the idea of taking the project on since I wasn't sure how it would fit with my "only do stuff you like" motto of late, I left the office feeling excited to be working with some familiar folks for the next week, but also relieved that it was only coming my way in a short burst.

All day though, I kept thinking back to the jewellery store that I interviewed with earlier in the week, hoping that I'd hear back from them soon with some good news. Many people who've asked what type of work I'm looking for have had a slightly perplexed look when I'd get excited telling them about a retail job at this great little store I had interviewed with, but I don't care. I really had my heart set on this regardless of whether it seems like a step backwards, forward or whatever. A step is, after all, a step, an action, and the way every dance begins. And tonight, I'm listening to my cheesey new music, and I'm dancin'; the store called, I'm in, and I start tomorrow.

Ch-ch-ch-ch-changes

2010-10-12T21:54:00.000-04:00

Things are coming along. Phew! I'm glad to say I'm in much better spirits today than I was when I last wrote. In fact, I'm quite excited about the turn that things have been taking in my life. The Acadian and I are waiting on final confirmation that we've been accepted as tenants into a building smack dab in downtown Toronto. Our fingers are crossed, and we're both looking forward to being in a new place at the center of it all. It's quite different from where we live now, pretty much in the suburbs where getting around without a car can be a bit of a frustration. But this is also where I have been for most of the 12 years I have lived in Toronto, and I figure that after so long, it's about time that I give downtown living a try. If the sampling I got while visiting the Acadian in the downtown digs he lived in when we first started dating are any indicator, I think I'm really going to enjoy this! Now if only we could get that call telling us we're in...

Another first for me today (well, the first in a few years anyhow): a job interview. Instead of dragging myself to an office to convince someone to give me a job that I desperately don't want, I strolled through one of the city's historic districts into a lovely jewelery and accessory boutique to chat about a job as a sales associate that I would very much love to have. How refreshing to have a nice chat with the manager and have a peek at all the great pieces in the showcases instead of answering the typical "give me a situation where..." interview questions I'd grown so accustomed to.

The sun was shinning today, both literally and figuratively. After my interview, I wandered into a nearby cafe and sat outside for a while to enjoy not just the beautiful day, but that moment. Things are finally moving forward. For months, it seems as though I have just been floating around, trying desperately to move along in my life but not budging an inch. Now, it seems as things are evolving; nothing is forced, just simply moving along in a way that feels right. Perhaps part of my problem was that I wanted the newness without being willing to give up the old. The old neighborhood. The old routine. The old thought patterns and perceptions about the world and how it perceives me. Some things are easier to leave behind than others, but this I am sure of: things are a-changin'.

My panties aren't in a knot, per se

2010-10-04T16:17:00.000-04:00

For the second time today, I find myself in a coffee shop to take advantage of the free wi-fi. Yes indeed, The Second Cup is truly living up to its name this afternoon. I don't usually mind hanging out with folks drinking their coffee, but today, it just feels uncomfortable, and there is a strange looking man watching me. As a matter of fact, just about everything feels uncomfortable these days. Like when you're wearing cute underwear that is just a little too small, and even though you don't technically have a wedgie, it still doesn't feel quite right.

While battling a cold and getting re-acquainted with sleepless nights, I've also been doing some hard-core apartment hunting over the past week. Right now, I'm not finding it to be a very fun process. I'm sure it's full of lessons for me, but right now, I don't get them and I can't wait for this whole thing to be over with. After dozens (likely close to 100) calls, very few positive responses and a handful of apartments visited, we still haven't found "the one". Part of me wants to walk into a place and just wait for it to be right, to fall in love. But the other part tells me that it's hard to be love-struck when you're on a budget and a deadline, and I need to just get over all this "feeling" crap. I wish that part would shut up. But I can't help but wonder if it might be right.

Adding to the problem is that what "feels" right changes on an hourly basis. Since I've been in Toronto, I've always been a West end girl. So far, none of the places I've been coming across in that part of town have been fitting the budget aspect of our list of must-haves. Sometimes, moving to the East end of town, where we've seen one apartment that fits our budget that is literally next door to a subway station, seems like a big adventure! Together, the Acadian and I would move to new territory and explore the neighborhood together. I'd try my hand at being a city girl in the middle of it all, and it would be so much fun! Giving up my car will be cool and I'll enjoy zipping around town with my transit pass. But then, only a few hours later, I start to wonder how I'll like living in a high-rise again and how we'll get our cases of almond milk and other hippie-dippie things home. I really wish my sense of adventure would come back to stay.

Back and forth. To and fro. It honestly feels more like two steps forward and ten steps back today. And it's all because of me. And my choices. Choices I've made in the past, but choices I could make today to give whole process a whole new direction. If the me of 10 years ago could come to the future to share a few words, the first ones out of her mouth would likely be "quit this crazy live-with-a-purpose business, get a job and buy a house!". But I suppose she hadn't had the chance to spend those 10 years working yet, discovering that promotions, money and houses didn't make her happy. Sigh. The thought that's been coming to mind the last few days is that by doing what I'm doing, I'm throwing away everything I've worked towards over these last 10 years. However as I write this, I realize the opposite is true: if I go back to the same old routine, I'm turning my back on all I've learned and experienced in this time. Caution people, this is a pep-talk in progress.

Although I know that my perception on this situation is key to making it a happy one, I'm finding it hard to flip the switch. I keep looking back to the me of two years ago. Somehow, she managed to be hopeful about her life even if the whole thing had been turned upside-down. Why can't I do the same today? Why is the Cheerio-box-shaking a little nauseating lately? Things have been changing by the hour though. Maybe the part I'm getting wrong is that when the sense of adventure comes around, you're supposed to hang on, tight.

Penny for your thoughts

2010-09-28T23:08:00.001-04:00

Over the past few days, my brain has been working over-time trying to come to terms with the big decisions I have made in my life during the last week. Those would be:

1. Not going back to a corporate job.
2. Moving to a smaller, less expensive apartment.

I tried to do quite a few things to keep my brain quiet so that I could have some peace, like visiting a reptile zoo (those who know the Acadian are not surprised by this one), eating apples (for some reason, they are like crack to me these days), obsessing over Craigslist apartment postings for a ~~short~~ long time (highly ineffective, by the way), drinking a glass of wine (bingo!) and then spewing out every gibberish thought that came into my head and eventually convincing the Acadian to play a game of scrabble with me. I may be good at some things, but not stressing is not one of them; in fact, I've often said that if I could just stress out about things and get paid for it, I would be fabulously rich. Even if I really don't enjoy stressing myself out about things.

One way to try to get your mind off of things: going to the reptile zoo.
Warning: if a big snake (aka the Green Mamba) eating a rat
freaks you out, well, prepare to be freaked out.

That last bit has gotten me thinking even deeper lately. My whole life, I have been trying to find a way to do things I love and get paid for it. This very topic has been the subject of many conversations that I've had with a variety of people this week, and it seems most of us are on this same path. We're not lazy, we want to work, but we just wish that it was doing things we love and feel passionate about. Yet in my case, most of my efforts usually end up with me stressing, which we all know by now that I'm wonderful at. Now, these are just my musings, and I'm still in the process of working all of this out (obviously!), but here is my take on the "do what you love and still earn a living conundrum" that is currently plaguing me:

- What does it mean to "earn a living"? For the longest time, that idea has had a price tag on it for me, and I'm thinking that this only limits me. Really, it means that I earn enough money to live on. And I suppose if I just take a look at all of my bills and add them up, that is the amount of money I need to "live". But what if I play around with those? What if I eliminate some bills. Lower a few others. What if I pare things down so that I am only spending money on those things that truly contribute to my happiness and well-being. Well then, the price tag I associate with "earning a living" just got a whole lot more affordable.

- What does it mean to me to do things I love? Sure, I'm particularly passionate about writing, but that oomph is only there when I can do it on my own terms, and share the words, thoughts and feelings in a way that feels true to me. And if I try to change it in order to sell it and earn a living at it, well it's not long before the warm and fuzzies pack up and leave. So it's settled - writing is for me, and if it doesn't earn a living, that's ok.

- Do I only love doing one thing? Well no, there are a lot of things out there that I love to do. And again, no particular ideas come to mind on how to do them and get rich. But why this focus on getting rich? Why this need to make more money to afford the lifestyle with the bigger price tag on it?

- Now, this is where it gets really crazy, but if I have now cut down on the amount of money I need to lead a lifestyle I enjoy, and there are several things out there that I like doing, even if they don't offer a huge paycheck, I could potentially live nicely while meeting all of my financial needs doing things I love, could I not?

And this is precisely the experiment that I am putting myself through, starting, well, just about right now. As soon as we know where our future home will be, I plan on working very hard to find a job in a retail store that I like. Some place where I could look people in the eye when I sell something to them and feel good about it. Although it may sound silly, I've dreamed of working in a clothing store since I was a teenager, and I'm really excited that I may now very well have my chance to do it. In my off time, I want to do other things I love, whether I get paid for them or not. The point of all of this is to spend my time doing things I enjoy and that my gut feels good about instead of stuffing down my feelings and taking on responsibilities I don't want just to earn a bigger paycheque to buy stuff that I really don't need to contribute to my happiness.

I'm also very curious to try my hand at spending less money too. Now up until two years ago, I could save with the best of 'em, but I have to say that I didn't really enjoy myself while I did it. I scrimped and saved but I'd sock it all away to sit in a bank account so that I could eventually buy a house. What if this time I live a thrifty life, but instead of not buying or doing anything, I buy what I need to make me happy and shell out for experiences I'll truly enjoy. No more sitting on my pennies, but no more buying on impulse just because the urge strikes me. Can I do it?

I wonder what will happen with all of this. Will I be happier? Will I enjoy life more? Will I miss the money? The luxuries and extra stuff that I give up? Will I be less stressed? More stressed? Maybe I'll feel deprived. Empowered? I don't know. But you can be sure I'm going to find out.

Hittin' the sauce

2010-09-28T16:18:00.001-04:00

I have said it many times - I am not much of a cook. Sure, I can manage to make something decent for a potluck or for (very rare) dinner guests, but on a day-to-day basis, I'm not blowing anyone's socks off. Unless I mistakenly throw in too much cayenne. But in that case it's usually not the socks that I'm worried about.

Fancy or not, I do cook, and several times daily. I'm not big on pre-packaged stuff, so each day, I'm chopping up veggies and making up weird soups, stir-fries, omelets. Some days I'm so lazy that I don't invent anything - I just eat my veggies and meat plain. Sure, it's lazy, but at least it's healthy.

A few weeks back, the nice people at Hall's Kitchen, who earlier this year sent me some yummy soups to test out, asked if I wanted to try out their new line of sauces. Armed with a new list of dietary restrictions in a bid to improve my sleepy thyroid situation, I clicked over to their site to see if I could find two flavours that didn't contain any gluten or soy. I try to save those cheats for days when someone will get hurt if I don't get a cookie and a latte. I was excited when I saw that there were in fact two that were all cool with my list of no-no foods.

It wasn't long before a bottle of the Rockin' Moroccan and Red Thai Curry Coconut Mango sauce found their way to me. I looked at them. I picked them up. I photographed them. I pondered what I would use them for. And then I went to make some sort of a strange omelet. I took a bite of the omelet. I looked over at the Rockin' Moroccan sauce. I looked at the omelet again. Surely, it wasn't the end of the world if I used some of the sauce on my omelet, and I could think of something fancy to make with the rest of it later. Yes, later.

A few omelet and stir-fry concoctions later, I was feeling a little guilty. Both bottles were almost empty, and I hadn't made anything "fancy" with the sauces, or even photographed the strange-looking meals I had scarfed down over the course of the week. But then again, I'm sure there are many people out there who will think of wonderful, pretty-looking dishes to make with the Hall's Kitchen sauces. As for me, I can personally vouch for the fact that without having to go out of my way, I used the sauces in my everyday meals to make them taste even better, all the while knowing that everything in them was good for me. And you know what? It was nice! I really don't buy any pre-packaged sauces, or even salad dressings, because so many of them contain strange preservatives or foods I don't want to eat. Actually being able to just pour something out of a bottle and not make it myself, while knowing that the quality is just as good and the flavours even better than those of my own inventions, is a wonderful little luxury.

So, guilt is gone, belly is happy, but now I'm a little sad because the sauce is long, long gone.

Tell me what you want, what you really, really want

2010-09-24T21:50:00.001-04:00

I've never been a big fan of the Spice Girls. I mean, it was fun to mock my sister back in the day for the simple fact that she was a fan, and I may have secretly hidden a song or two of theirs on my MP3 player ('cause I didn't have an iPod then either), but that was the extent of it for me. Now perhaps it's because I didn't idolize them, or maybe I just needed a little time (like 10 or so years), but this week, I finally decided what "spice" I would have been. Now I can't sing, and whether I can dance is up for a heated debate, but I don't know how many people would object if I started to call myself Flaky Spice.

Flake has been my self-descriptor of choice lately. Well, rather, it's been the Mean Lady's description of me. She thinks I am a flake. I suspect she's not alone. She constantly whispers this into my ear, and then sometimes she yells it out, you know, like when I finally get two calls to be interviewed for perfectly good, responsible, grown up jobs, and I decide that's not what I want anymore. I tell ya, if you ever want to make the Mean Lady mad, do that.

Since I keep hearing over and over how flaky I am, from a voice in my own head nonetheless, I thought I should do some damage control and see if it really was all bad. Being a flake has never been anything to aspire to as far as I was aware, but I thought I would check, just in case. According to Princeton University's WordNet, flake can be defined as follows:

S: (n) eccentric, eccentric person, flake, oddball, geek (a person with an unusual or odd personality)

I was pleased when I read this. Each of those descriptors fits me very well, and I'm not ashamed to admit it. In fact, I particularly like oddball; if one thing is becoming clearer and clearer to me, it's that I'm not like most people. None of us are. But one thing I've realized that is especially different about me is that I don't care. I don't want to be like other people.

Figuring out what I actually, truly want has been on my to-do list from the Universe this week, and it wasn't very subtle about assigning the task either. Everywhere I went, there was something urging me to take inventory of what I truly want in life - from articles shared on Facebook, my horoscope to my angel cards. So I did what any flaky unemployed girl with time on her hands would do: I got to work.

From the nausea and dread I experienced while listening to a voicemail from a nice woman calling me for a job interview, it was pretty clear that going back to a full-time office job in a capacity similar to what I used to do was not on the list of things I wanted. It was so, so far down, that not even the Mean Lady could beat the idea into me. I was lucky enough to be chatting with a like-minded friend when I retrieved that voicemail, and we both agreed that these types of gut feelings shouldn't be ignored. Not only does going against my gut feel like I have a brick in my stomach, it also brings me down in a very big way. After admitting to myself that I didn't want to go to any of those interviews and much less take any of those jobs, I felt as though a huge weight had been lifted. And for the first time in weeks, I was happy. I had almost forgotten what that felt like.

Over the last week, I have taken a look at many aspects of my life and come up with a short list of things I truly want for the next little bit.
1. I want to be happy. I figure my best shot at this is actually following my gut, which is what this whole adventure was supposed to be about in the first place.
2. I want to write. And I want to write here. Often. I don't want to shy away from the bad and the scary. I just want to write it all down, put it out there for the world to see, just because my gut tells me to do it.
3. I want to feel secure. Part of that means knowing that I will be able to have enough money to live. So I've decided I apply for work in stores that I like. All I've ever done in my adult life is work behind a computer, and although I know many people will tell me I'm insane, the idea of working in a clothing store right now sounds fun and exciting.
4. I also want to get rid of unnecessary things in my life. I'm counting down the days until my cell-phone contract allows me to downgrade to a bear bones package. I don't need to check my emails and Facebook when I'm in line at the grocery store. And this big apartment that the Acadian and I live in - well let's just say my current salary doesn't allow for it anymore. So we're going to be moving to something smaller. And I'm actually really excited about it. Notice was handed in to the superintendent this morning.
5. I want to stop beating myself over the head to convince myself I should do what everyone else does. I want to stop questioning why I can't just be happy doing the same job I've done for years and just embrace the change coming my way. I want to be the person I am and not worry about what other people think. These are all the hardest to do, but when I'm true to myself, no matter how crazy it appears to the outside world, I really do feel truly happy.
6. I want to stop worrying. No, I don't know where all of this is going to lead. But what I am sure about is that I want to try living this way and see where it takes me. I don't want to predict. I don't want to stress about the future. I don't want the pressure of coming up with a master plan. I just want to live now. And I want to enjoy living.

And now, I want to finish this post and hang out with the Acadian. As long as I am by his side, a better man, partner and friend is one thing I'll never want for.

Ever feel like an ass?

2010-09-21T12:24:00.001-04:00

Or a butt to be a little more precise? Today, I feel as though I am the butt of a great joke that has all the higher-ups in the Universe laughing. Laughing their own little butts off.

So earlier this year, after much urging from this same, silly Universe and my very own gut - both of which had been co-conspiring to whisper fun little messages to me - I decided to actually quit my perfectly good job. And so I left my conventional life to go discover all sorts of things about myself on what would surely be a wonderful time of adventure.

Sure, he makes it look easy,
but has anyone checked his underwear?

Perhaps this is naive of me, but I always envision adventures with a happy thing. Alright, there is no "perhaps". It *is* naive of me to envision adventure this way. After all, I have seen a bunch of Indiana Jones type movies, and although the hero always wins in the end, there is a lot of outrunning of gigantic boulders and dodging of strange arrows that happens. But dammit it's so much fun to watch! Yet no one thinks of checking Indiana's underwear at any point to see if he really does stay cool throughout the whole thing. Really, is it that hard to imagine that he might be shitting bricks while he desperately tries to figure out a plan that will help him escape some weird ritual where his heart is going to be ripped out?

Well my adventure is scaring the crap out of me. It was all fine and dandy until August when the reality of my financial situation, or rather the echo in the empty cavern that is my bank account, began to set in. So, my friends, what do we do in this day in age when we need some money? All together now: we get a job. Yes, we get a job. We find something we are good at, we type up a nice looking resume, get our friends to check it for spelling mistakes and then we send it out to nice companies that are looking for people like us to get some sort of a job done in exchange for money.

And this is what I did. 49 times. Over the course of the last month and a bit, I have sent out 49 resumes in the hopes of finding some sort of a job so that I could pay my bills, and during the times that I am not working, I could pursue the other things that I have discovered to be passions of mine over the last few months. Is that not what normal people do? They get a job, and then, on their off time, they do stuff they like. And maybe some dishes and laundry here and there.

Now this is where is gets funny. Normally, after sending out a few resumes, the lovely people at those nice companies will sometimes call you so that they can make arrangements to meet you face to face to make sure they might enjoy your company in the confined spaces of their office. Not each time, but sometimes they call, right? Surely after 49 times, someone calls asking to meet you?

No one wants to meet me. Well, not to talk about jobs anyways.

I told myself this was ok. That it would take time. That when the right opportunity came up, it would all fall into place. That I just had to keep putting in hours and hours to send out more resumes to these companies and hope that one day soon, I would get a call, or maybe an email from something other than an auto-responder and that it would lead to a job. And in the meantime, I should dust off my "professional" clothes that had been sitting in the spare room closet for months and months and months.

Ah. Now it gets even funnier, although I can assure you that it was anything but at the time. In a strange way, I had missed those dressy clothes a little bit. I wondered what I would look like today in one of my old suits? After a few moments of getting into the skirt and jacket, and another thinking that something wasn't right, I turned to my mirror to be greeted by my reflection, which resembled some sort of a sausage masquerading as a business-woman. Yes indeed, none of my suits, dress pants, jackets - any sort of professional, interview-appropriate attire whatsoever - fit me. To my great relief, I have since concluded that the culprit is more likely to be muscle than fat since flubb does not tend to migrate to my shoulders, but the discovery of a wardrobe full of too-tight clothes was nonetheless quite disconcerting. Well to me it was. I'm pretty sure the Universe is still giggling about it.

Apparently, this is not me.

Discouraged about the state of my life, I made the trek out to the suburbs to visit a coach that I consult with every now and then. Fondly known as "my angel guy", the best way I can describe what Chris does is to call him an intuitive life coach, which doesn't really do him and what he does justice. After our chat, it was quite clear that the Universe doesn't think I'm done with this current adventure. It is patiently waiting for me to take my head out of the sand and get back to it. Apparently, there are enough ostriches in the world, and being a gigantic bird is not my calling. Who knew?

Today, there are a bazillion signs that seem to have all been sent to support this theory. And as I wipe my eyes and pick the sand out of my nose, the panic, the sense of being victimized, and maybe a bit of fear, are all beginning to lift as I realize that all of this really is kind of funny. Although it's hard to do, and I'm not sure that I'll be able to keep it up all day, much less all week, month, or more, laughing at yourself when you're the butt of a joke tends to make it more fun for everyone, including you. I hope. Well at least my heart and mascara hope so.

Two broads in a boat

2010-09-20T17:42:00.001-04:00

I'm just steps away from the house I used to live in with my ex-husband out in the suburbs. Actually, I'm at the Starbucks that was so conveniently located at the time, and I'm eating, or rather, have already scarfed down a double chocolate chip cookie and I'm making progress on my vanilla latte - two things that are on my "Sylvie don't eat" list. But today, I don't care. And you know what? They are both damn, damn good. So good, that I may buy another cookie. Maybe.

What's weird about today is that being here doesn't feel weird. I normally get this strange déjà vu feeling whenever I come back to these parts, but I was pleasantly surprised that today, they are just regular streets in a pretty town.

Another thing that is unusual today is me. And perhaps I am misusing the word "today". For the purpose of this sentence and the last two, the exact length of "today" is about six weeks, give or take a few days, hours, whatever. Over the course of this time, the Mean Lady has been steering the boat. I'm not sure how she's been managing with the oars constantly out of the water, whacking me in the head, trying to beat me into submission; she may be mean, but that lady is one heck of a multitasking mama. With a strong arm.

At first, she started off slowly.
Mean Lady hits Sylvie over the head with a oar. TONK!
Sylvie: OWWW!
Mean Lady: Go get a job!
Sylvie: NO.
Mean Lady is violently pushed out of boat.

This happens a few times. I consider buying a single person kayak but money is tight, and I may need to save up for a new oar - seems one of them has dent in it in the shape of my head.

That Mean Lady - she is also a creature of persistence. And a heck of a swimmer. She keeps climbing back in, hitting me over the head. Each time, the process is swifter and stronger. I start to suspect maybe she's been CrossFitting too. Sigh.

A few weeks later...
TONK!
Sylvie: I know, I know - "get a job" Could you quit it with the oar?
Mean Lady: Are you gonna get a job yet you crazy flake?
Sylvie: Sigh No, but I'll find myself a project.
Mean Lady: Get a job you crazy flake!
Mean Lady go splash.

And then more weeks, days or some measure of time later...
TONK!
Sylvie: WHAT?!!
Mean Lady: Seriously? You have to ask?
Sylvie: Fine, I'll look for a part-time job.

After another few weeks and several resumes sent out...
TONK!
Sylvie: I'm going to drown you, I swear.
Mean Lady: Get a real job. You have experience. You can earn a decent salary. None of this part-time bullshit. Besides, I want some pretty things and a nice dinner. Get to it!
Sylvie: I know, I know, but I have to believe in what I do. And they have to accept me for the quirky crazy person I am.

More time. Dozens of resumes. No phone calls. TONK!
Sylvie: You are *this* close to becoming a statistic!
Mean Lady: For what? Imaginary Mean Ladies killed by crazy, flaky girls armed with oars?
Sylvie: Oh you shut up! And give me my sarcastic wit back you nasty...
Mean Lady: No, I'm keeping that. But you know what you can have? TONK!

Another week. More resumes. One call that ends with a "yeah, we'll call you back if we want to pursue this". Editing of stuff online in a desperate attempt to hide the true nature of my quirky, "flaky" self. Countless tears interspersed with sobs and hugs from the Acadian.

TONK!
TONK!
TONK!
Mean Lady: HEY! I'm hitting you over the head here - can I get a little attention?
Sylvie: Oh, who? Me? You want attention from tear-stained, sad, soggy, watered-down Sylvie? Well you know what? She's got nothing for you. NOTHING! Not for you, or anyone else. She's just tired and teary. And she needs to get her ass to Costco to go buy more Kleenex. And no. She doesn't have a job.
TONK!
TONK!
TONK!

I couldn't take a whole lot more. Was there a point to being in a boat when it offered no shelter or comfort. Where none of my efforts could ever please the captain. And why wasn't I the captain? And how the heck was I supposed to answer all these questions with such a splitting headache? And even if I tried, who would be answering - crazy quirky Sylvie, or the watered-down version drowning in her own tears?

I might have been wise or utterly stupid, but I did the only thing I could: I jumped ship.

Mom, thank you for those swimming lessons when I was a kid. Treading water was always one of my faves. Now let's see how I do with a cookie in one hand...

Meet the mean lady

2010-09-13T16:01:00.000-04:00

It seems that the Mean Lady is a pretty famous broad. When I first started writing about her at the beginning of this year, I wasn't sure how much sense this whole idea of an awful woman living in my head would make to others out there. But that's what was most surprising. I'm not the only one that knows her and her pack of bitchy friends.

And when I first started writing at the beginning of the year, it was also with a feeling that I really wanted to share this journey that I was going to be taking. I somehow felt that it was important - whether it would be to help others or mostly myself I'm really not sure.

Over the last few months though, there hasn't been a whole lot of writing happening. Documenting your life, your deepest thoughts and your biggest dreams can be a nice way to spend an hour or so when you're feeling happy and things are going well. But when you're confused, angry, sad, bitter and just at a loss when it comes to deciphering the strange, surreal and immensely boring existence that has become of your life - one that you willfully created for yourself in search of "something else" - spewing out this awfulness onto a computer screen doesn't really seem like a fun or even nice thing to do. Surely, there is enough bad news out there, the world doesn't need me to throw in some more.

But that's when I hear it - the little voice that always wants to see the world in a rosy hue and offer up advice and cheerful words. It's also the very same voice that I've been wishing I could clobber or just flush down the toilet for over a month now so that it could just let me be miserable in peace, guilt-free. This time though, I stopped to listen. Perhaps it was because she'd ditched her chirpy tone, but I'm pretty sure it was just because what she'd said was actually true. "It's not bad news" she said, "it's honesty". And you know what? It is honesty! Absolute truth. My life, as I'm sure is the case for most people out there, isn't all roses and bubblegum all the time. But yet, there seems to be all this pressure to make it look as if it's so. And do you know what? It's irritating. In fact, it's become my new pet-peeve.

Being doom and gloom all the time isn't good for anyone (trust me on this), but I think we should all give ourselves permission to be ok with our suckiness when it happens. I found that choice of words - we should all give ourselves permission - to be quite a revealing message to myself. The pressure that I feel to be so happy and perfect really comes from within. I can blame a million sources - which I have been wonderful at doing over the last few weeks - but I'm the only one who's accepting the challenge to be Ms. Cheeriness. And in doing so, it seems I've slowly morphed and become the notorious Mean Lady in the flesh.

I realize that this may not sound like a great marketing pitch for the girl who's been working at making a name for herself as the Intuitive Cheerleader. But I don't care. Last week? Yes, then I cared. The thought of posting something that actually reflected my true feelings was horribly and deeply embarrassing. But now, well, I'm just a few lines away from hitting Publish Post, and it's not as bad as I thought.

I even think if I'd perhaps allowed myself this freedom to be openly disappointed and upset much earlier, this whole thing would have blown over much faster. Maybe without so much shame and guilt, my skin wouldn't be such a cozy home for that horrible Mean Lady.

I don't believe any of us were put on this earth to fit some definition of perfect. As a matter of fact, I wish we could erase the word "perfect", just delete it from our language altogether. It may sound wonderful and ideal, but it creates standards that we can't and shouldn't live up to. We weren't put here to be perfect. We were put here to be us.

I was put here to be me.
I'd rather brave the tears and can the fake smiles.
And when you hear me laugh, you can bet it's real.

One asterisk* for me!

2010-08-24T17:53:00.001-04:00

When I was a kid, getting a stamp on my hand was a most awesome, however temporary, reward for some job well done. To this day, I have a secret envy for my teacher friends who have daily access to those cool stamps, and I know that part of the reason I never had a calling to become a school teacher is because the Universe knows that giving me a push in that direction would without a doubt lead to a moment where I would be found, alone in a classroom, laughing hysterically while stamping madly at any surface I could find.

Although I would still love to get my hands on one of those fun stamper doohickeys (preferably a heart or smiley face), these days, I happily settle for an asterisk. Actually, I will work my ass off to earn an asterisk, and I got my very first, completely legit little star on Friday. And of course, my chance to reap this simple yet super exciting reward happens at the gym. (Yes, this is another Crossfit themed post. You've been warned).

I suppose my preoccupation with the asterisk started a little over two years ago. As I was working through a set of modified push-ups (aka girl push-ups from the knees), I asked my trainer why I had to do them that way. Why couldn't I do regular push-ups instead? He told me they were much harder, but if I wanted to, I could try. So I did. I got to five standard push-ups, and then agreed with him - they were much harder! But we were both surprised - five push-ups is nothing to turn your nose at when you couldn't do any just a few months before.

Fast-forward a few years, and I have since learned to do a lot of other exercises. Most started out with a modified version, scaled down so I could get comfortable with the movement, and as I got better, the difficulty was increased. This is one thing that I think is awesome about Crossfit - as much as I can be amazed watching athletes at the top of their game killing a workout on YouTube, at the same time, somebody's grandma can be doing a scaled-down version of the same thing in her local gym and getting so much fitter in the process. And there is also no shame if you are a non-grandma like I was, doing those same modified exercises.

Everybody can learn to do a push-up!

But as much as I get excited when I finally get to the point where I can do something unmodified, the game changes when a few of those movements get thrown together into a workout, where they suddenly find new and magical ways to kick my ass, at which point I'd often have to resort back to an easier variation. And that was all find and dandy, but lately, I couldn't help but think that I could probably make it through the original version of the workouts, without changing a thing. Sure, it might take me a lot longer and I would likely finish dead last, but still, it was worth a shot. And worth an asterisk too - a little star scribbled in dry-erase ink on the board to indicate those who do the workout as prescribed.

Although there were some legitimate reasons keeping me from doing certain things - like not having acquired that particular skill or having the strength to work with a particular weight - there were others that were complete and utter bullshit. Worries that I might not get through an entire workout, that no other girls were trying it unmodified or that my scores would be low and times would be slow were all holding me back. I decided it was time to put on my big girl panties, suck it up, ditch the bogus excuses and work at getting an asterisk next to my name dammit!

It took a few workouts before one where there were no exercises that I needed to modify (damn you pull-ups!) came along. Armed with my new mentality though, none of that bothered me too much, and I was surprised at how much more fun I had been having, trying to set new records for myself instead of worrying about what I could and couldn't do or how my time would stack up. When Friday finally rolled around, it brought with it a workout that called for "double-unders". To do a double under, you need to jump rope, but instead of having the rope rotate once when you jump, it needs to make two full turns before you come back down. Take it from a girl who consistently had a trainer shaking his head at hear when she'd jump rope while singing cute rhymes to herself and adding in extra hops to keep the beat: this ain't your typical school-yard skipping! But I'd been getting the hang of them lately, and after a bit of encouragement from the rest of the gang, I decided to suck it up and give it a try in a timed workout.

As the clock counted down, me and a few other guys waited with our skipping ropes ready to tackle as many rounds as possible of the following circuit for 15 minutes:
50 double-unders
14 20-inch box jumps
7 dead lifts (150 lbs for the ladies)

Although it's a far, far cry from breaking any records, I managed to squeeze in 2 rounds (+16 extra double unders!). And as tired as I was after it was all done (um, there is a lot of jumping involved even for the missed double-unders, and I missed a lot more than I got), I had more than enough energy left to respond with a resounding "FUCK YEAH!!!" when the trainer asked if I had done it as prescribed. And then, he put an asterisk next to my name. At that moment, I was a very happy and proud, sweaty, sweaty mess.

So it may just be a star on a dry-erase board, but I take it - and what it means - to heart. When I think that some might find this story utterly boring, a little voice inside reminds me that it's not how others perceive it that makes it a victory or a loss, but rather, it's being brave enough to step up to the challenge, choosing to believe in myself and giving it my all that determines the real score. Asterisks or not, my life is filled with opportunities I can attack with passion while ignoring the passing minutes, days and weeks and shrugging off those who try to keep score while I give what I know is my absolute best. If I put aside the worries, the competition and the restrictions, if I focus on my game, draw upon my strengths and strive to work through my weaknesses, will the result not be a life of which I'm proud of? A life that I enjoy? One I know I've made the most of? Stars, stamps, asterisks or not, I want to live this way and find out.

Hey Next - hold on a sec!

2010-08-15T22:10:00.002-04:00

Right now, I'm trying to type but it's a slow go because I'm shoveling blueberries into my mouth. A quasi-unlimited supply of wild blueberries picked by my Dad and hand-delivered to me yesterday by my little sister. They are yummy. Perhaps even more enjoyable (I know - tough call - those Northern Ontario blueberries are pretty damn tasty) is that I have the pleasure of overhearing the Acadian playing songs that he's written on his guitar while he and the singer of his newly-forming band belt out the vocals together. It's a very sweet moment indeed, and to top it all off, I just remembered that I had a last-minute load of dirty clothes to wash for tomorrow, and when I ran up to the laundry room to throw it in, all of the machines were free. If life is about savoring the little victories, I'm having quite a nice Sunday night snack. Both figuratively and literally in this case.

As lovely as all of that sounds though, and please, don't get me wrong - it's all incredibly wonderful and beautiful - I haven't been in much of a savoring and enjoying mood these days. My time has been consumed with locating coffee shops with free wi-fi where I can take refuge from my big scary apartment, sending cries for help and occasional threats to the Universe and shitting large bricks of worry and panic about the current state of my life.

Another pastime of late has been contemplating posting to my blog and then busying myself with something that involves not posting to my blog. My main reason for avoiding writing is that things seem so mixed up, and my mind is constantly considering, rejecting, re-evaluating and rebuilding ideas, that it feels quite silly to even try to write them down. Deep down, I know that this is total bullshit, and that it would do me good, as it always does, to tap away at my keyboard, put the sentences together and make sense of it all as I go, but the department that is in charge of procrastination inside of my brain has been working on this "You Are Too Confused to Write Anything" campaign that I really hate to disappoint it by proving it wrong. But I suppose all those busy little workers must be out at a BBQ tonight, because it does appear that I am in fact, writing a blog post.

Since I last wrote, which was a whole 10 days ago, much else has happened in my life, and in my brain too. I have resolved that I need to take on some sort of work to not only earn an income, but also to save my sanity because I am so, so, so sick of being at home and of working on things that relate to me. I enjoy marketing, and I think it's a lot of fun, but when the product is you, it's hard to leave it behind at 5pm. I've also never been one to yell "look at me!" in the middle of a crowded room, so that is another hurdle that I'm constantly smacking myself into. So although I still want to push forward, a new project to work on is very welcome indeed.

The Universe must have either seen the crazed, cabin-feverish look in my eyes or just gotten sick of my random threats because not long after I admitted all of this to myself, I ended up at lunch with a good friend (who also happened to be my boss) discussing the opportunity for me to take on a contract for a project that had always been my personal favorite at my previous job. It all revolves around food and travel, two things I can comfortably and fully endorse (and on that note, my blueberry bowl is empty - hold on a sec and I'll finish the sentence when I come back from the kitchen) so you would think I would have been thrilled.

You can understand why I felt like brat for not being initially excited about such a cool and fun opportunity. But wasn't this part of the very job I left earlier this year in search of "something else"? I mean really, how did this fit in with my plan of exploring new things for myself? I accepted the project, but came away with some big questions that could be answered by none other than yours truly.

The next day, I felt as though I had taken a step back and watched my brain re-organize a whole bunch of information. If you have a techie friend to whom you complain in an annoyingly whinny fashion about how slow your computer is, you have surely been told to try de-fragmenting it . And if you took that advice, and were bored enough at the time, perhaps you even watched your computer de-fragment itself for a few minutes. I watched my brain de-fragment itself the entire freakin' day. It felt weird and strange, and I just wanted to hide at home while it was happening, but I knew that it was good, and that things would make more sense at the end of the day. And they did.

The next step was to determine whether or not my brain and my heart agreed on these things that "made sense". I was surprised to see that in several instances, they did. Taking on this project would, from my brain's perspective, help pay the bills, but it would also offer my heart something to get behind, throw some of its passion into and get excited about. It would be fun, and even though it would be familiar, I would be approaching it from a whole new perspective. And in turn, all of this newness and excitement would surely help inject some new energy into my personal projects. Yay - win-win!

But, my brain being the incurable keener that it is wasn't happy with just this. One project is nice, but then what? What happens once that one is done? What is the point of projects anyways? Would I not be better off finding a full-time job, where project upon project would keep coming my way just as paycheques would quietly be deposited into my bank account on a steady and reliable bi-weekly basis? Although a job wouldn't be a very different "something else" from where I was earlier this year, it wouldn't be wrong to take one. I've learned and grown a lot during these months, and if I were to go back to full-time, 9-5 employment, all wouldn't be lost and I would still be grateful for this experience for my entire life.

This argument though, my heart had trouble with. It's not that it questioned the logic of it. It all made sense. And perhaps I will end up going back to a traditional job. "So what's you'r problem then?" my brain asked. "Why haven't you dusted off your resume and started a search?". My heart thought about this. It even searched through a few job sites. It went to go see if I even still have a resume to dust off somewhere, which it turns out that I do. But still, something wasn't right. "Well what is it? Why won't you do it?" my brain prodded. "You need to have a good excuse - you can't just brush me off like this, I need facts!".

It took my heart a full week to put its finger on it (yes, my heart has fingers) and finally, this is what it has revealed to both me and my brain:
"There's nothing wrong with getting a job. That rightness or wrongness of that action isn't what's up for debate. What is up for debate is what we've asked the Universe for. We weren't specific. All we said was that we wanted help. Help is here, and it's not up to us to question whether it's right or not. We left it up to the Universe's discretion, and I for one, would like to follow its plan to see what it has in store. So there is no job search now. Not today. And there will be no worry about "the next thing". The current thing isn't even upon us yet and you've already started panicking about what comes next. I would like to enjoy the current thing please. The perfection its scope and timing and the lessons that it will hold. And all the while, I will ask and trust the Universe to have the next thing ready in good time, when we need it and when we're ready for it."
My heart then pulled out its middle finger and respectfully pointed it towards my brain. And after that, there was no further debate.

As I sit here now, with a belly very, very full of blueberries, beautiful music pouring out of my living room and clothes tumbling gently in the dryer, I recall a time in my life two years ago when I had resolved to push forward, outside of my comfort zone to explore new things that life had to offer. Had I then been shown a glimpse of this life I have today, and all the wonderful chaos that it holds, I would have surely been awestruck at the transformation that awaited me, an evolution that was already in its infancy. Today I want to reclaim those wide eyes as my own, be grateful for the courage that comes my way and rekindle my sense of adventure for discovering this wild new terrain that will soon be a familiar home.

Smart Smoothies

2010-08-10T15:27:00.007-04:00

Back in February, I blogged about my new-found love for my recently acquired VitaMix blender. I've been putting it to almost daily use making all sorts of smoothies, so much so that I've pretty much got it down to a science. Good news is that you can use any blender, and I've got all of my tips and tricks right here for you!

Whipping up a smoothie is a quick and easy way of getting a lot of fruits, and even veggies, into your diet, but to get the most of this quickie snack or meal, it’s important to give some thought to what you’re throwing into your blender. Why? Because while your smoothie may be packing a nutritional punch, it can easily pack on the pounds too, which I’m guessing you’re likely trying to avoid. Here you’ll find some hard-earned tips that I’ve learned during my smoothie drinking adventures that will have you mixing up a nutritious, appropriately size and tasty drink in no time.

Start at the Base

Although smoothies are a mix of all sorts of different ingredients, you need a base – some form of liquid to get everything whirling around your blender. Trust me on this – cramming your Magic Bullet with frozen blueberries and a banana will leave you with the smell of burning plastic and some sort of a concoction that will never make it through a straw.. Milk is often used, and works just perfectly, but if you’re looking to keep it dairy-free, there are other good alternatives too. I’m personally a big fan of almond milk, which will get you the same creamy consistency as cow’s milk. I’ve also used water and even tea too, both of which are great to make a lighter, refreshing drink. If you’re using juice, keep in mind that one cup will add upwards of 100 calories to your drink, and since so many of them contain a lot of sugar, they often don’t give you a good nutritional bang for your caloric buck. If you really love juice in your smoothie, try to find a brand that is 100% fruit, like Ceres.

Once you’ve decided on a base, pour about a half cup into your blender for a snack-size serving. As the word implies – base goes at the bottom. If you have a Magic Bullet type of blender, put the base in last.

Bulk it up

Now the fun part! The fruit! Yes, please put some fruit in your smoothie. Ice-cream and chocolate syrup will turn it into a milkshake, and while that’s fun too, it’s not a smoothie. Be creative here! You would be surprised at the fun flavour combos you can create and just how tasty they can be. Feel free to use fresh fruit or frozen. My personal preference is to use about one cup of fresh fruit and half a cup of frozen fruit; it gives the smoothie a nice chill but not enough to turn it to a thick slush. If you want to use only fresh fruit, just throw in two ice-cubes to get a frosty drink.

But let’s not forget the veggies! Adding in a bit of cucumber or celery really gives a smoothie a refreshing taste and cut down on the sweetness of the drink. Spinach is one of my personal favourites for the simple fact that its flavour is almost undetectable and it adds in great nutrients. I dare you – throw a handful into your next smoothie and see how you like it.

Substance for sustinance

The point of everything we eat (well most of the time anyway), should be to feed our body and provide nutrition. But if we stick with just fruit, we’re going to drink up that smoothie and be hungry again in a half hour. Why? Because our bodies need more than just fruit to be satisfied for a few hours.

First thing is that your smoothie really should include some protein. Although you could throw in a chicken breast, I wouldn’t advise it, and if you do decide to try it please let me know how that goes. If you’ve used milk for your base, you’ve got a bit of protein there, but you might consider adding a bit more. For any dairy-free variation, you’ll want to add in a scoop of protein powder (check your health-food store for non-dairy protein powder). Look for something simple – try to avoid anything with flavouring or artificial sweeteners; you’re working hard to make a healthy, nutritious drink here, so the more natural, the better.

The scariest sounding element that also needs to be added in is fat. And yes, it’s important. Without a bit of fat in there, you won’t feel full, and although you would think it’s our sworn enemy, our bodies need fat to keep them running. The fats you put into your smoothie can add a lot of great flavours too! My personal favourites are almond butter and coconut oil. The almond butter will make your smoothie even creamier, and the coconut oil tastes like it sounds – tropical! I like to add a half tablespoon of fat for a meal-size smoothie, and half of that for a snack. You can also try throwing in a few slices of avocado too – they’ll make your smoothie just that – smooth and creamy.

Spice it up!

Think of herbs and spices as the finishing touches that can really make the flavours of your smoothie pop. Use your imagination and try a few things that might go well with a desert made using the same fruit as you’ve put into your smoothie. My personal favourite are ginger, mint, cinnamon and even cayenne pepper – guaranteed to wake you up!

On the go

It’s great that we can make delicious smoothies at home, but what about when we’re looking for something quick when we’re on the go? We’ve all seen places that blend smoothies for you while you wait, but before you place your order, make sure to ask about what they put inside. When I did, I found that many used frozen yogurt, sorbet and sometimes even ice-cream – all which contain a whole lot of sugar that I would personally rather avoid. In the best cases, they used 100% fruit juice as the base. The sizes are nothing short of humongous either, so before you ask for regular, have them show you the size of the cup first.

Has all this smoothie talk fuelled some cravings? Here is an easy recipe you can try to be sipping and slurping in no time!

Tropical Smoothie

1 cup of unsweetened almond milk

1 scoop brown rice protein powder (or other protein powder)

½ Tbsp almond butter

1 banana

½ cup frozen mango

1 pear

½ inch of grated ginger

3-4 mint leaves

Place ingredients into a blender in the order listed above (or reverse if you’re using a Magic Bullet). Blend until smooth. Makes 2 snack-size servings at 217 calories a piece.

Monsters

2010-08-05T15:12:00.000-04:00

As a kid, I used to wake up at night, all alone in my bed, really, really scared. Each time, I woke to a loud snarling sound that resonated throughout the house. I would just lay in my bed, paralyzed, wanting to call out to my Mom but too afraid to do so. Even then, I had voices in my head trying to counsel me. The reasonable voice assured me that there was no monster; it was just Dad snoring like he did every night and there was nothing to be afraid of. But the kid in me didn't care - she was scared and wanted Mom. After a few minutes of complete stillness in my bed, too afraid the rustling noise I'd make by hiding under the covers would alert the monster I knew didn't exist of my presence, I finally worked up the courage to call out to my Mom to come and comfort me.

Today there are no monsters, and thankfully the Acadian doesn't snore either, but I have to admit that I'm feeling just about the same way I did when I was 5 or 6, laying wide-eyed and terrified in my bed in the middle of the night. Over the past few weeks, the feeling has just been getting worse and worse, and I've finally worked up the nerve to call out in the hopes something will swoop in and take this awful nervousness, fear and worry away from me.

Early in July, I had been looking forward to a few weeks in Canada's East Coast having fun and unwinding with the Acadian while we visited his family and friends, which is exactly what I got. We had such a great time that I honestly didn't want to come back. It was nice to be among friends, away from the harsh city and all of my responsibilities. I also had a secret wish: I was hoping that these weeks away would help alleviate my fears, bring along new inspiration and give me a fresh outlook on things. I'm sad and disappointed that so far, this isn't the case.

This week, I feel more paralyzed than ever. And when I try to describe my fear, that image of me as a small child frightened of the monster that doesn't exist is what pops into my head. I find it difficult to visualize what I fear. It seems that I'm afraid that I won't be able to have my dream. That I will run out of money and have to pursue other things. I keep the vision I hold for the future close to my heart and love it and the people it holds dearly. But most importantly, I love the person that I am in this vision, and worry that my fears will lead me down a path that will have everything I find so wonderful about her recede into the background.

I desperately want to keep taking one step at a time in the direction of my beautiful dream. I can see and feel it so clearly, so perfectly. But what eludes me is the path leading up to it, the road to take, the way to follow. I feel the pressure of time and the worry of expenses beating down on me. Endless ideas that masquerade as inspiration exhaust me. And when it all gets to be too much and I want to give up, there is always one lone little voice from deep within my core that simply just won't let me.

The sickness that sets me straight

2010-06-25T23:08:00.000-04:00

"We're sick people, you know that, don't you?". It seems that those are the words I most often tell the trainers at the gym when I'm done a workout. You know, when I catch my breath and can actually talk again. Honestly, there are some times when I'm just plain amazed I got through it, and today was one of those days. I know the word of choice this week seems to have been puke, and I was a little worried that it might literally come up today when I saw the workout scrawled onto the whiteboard:

5 rounds, for time of

80 skips (like when you skipped in grade school, but without the little hop between rotations to keep the beat of skipping song. Bummer.)
30 box jumps (jumping up and back down off a box - today's was 15 inches high)
20 kettlebell swings (a kettlebell is essentially a ball-shaped weight with a handle, and today's was 8 kilos)

Each time I walk into that gym and look at that whiteboard, I'm always fascinated. Not just with the creativity and often, the sheer brutalness of the workouts, but with human spirit. That of those in the gym with me, but also my very own spirit. It seems it wasn't long ago that I would have never, ever dreamed I'd be able to do anything like today's workout or anything even close to it. A time where I couldn't even picture myself walking into a gym, much less doing any kind of a workout. But I do it now. And each time, I get better, I get faster and I get stronger. Not long ago, I didn't even have the willpower to get off the couch and exercise, yet now, I manage to find the drive, the energy and the complete and utter pigheadedness it takes to get me through a particularly grueling session. I always go hard, and I don't ever give up.

My favorite part of the workout is where I get to stretch, or as I like to call it, making a puddle on the mat. I lie down, stare at the rafters and silently wonder to myself, "how the heck did I just do that?" And then it dawns on me that regardless of how, I really have done it. Done, done, done! And then I remember how hard it was, and how I thought I might puke, and how sweaty and tired I am. And how I can't wait to come back and do it all over again. At which point I turn to the trainer and say "You know, we Crossfitters are sick, sick people, you know that?".

Some days it goes deeper than that though. As lay there today, making my puddle and marveling at how a girl can sweat and stink more than than most men (I have a sock for sale to the highest bidder if anyone is interested), I heard a little voice in my head say "Now do this with your life." And I needed to hear it. Too often, I let obstacles intimidate me longer than they should, I underestimate my abilities and I just plain sell myself short. I sometimes feel there are dues to pay, levels to attain and experiences to acquire before I can launch myself down a certain path. I'm learning that all of this is bullshit. It's by arming myself with a bit of knowledge and then being brave enough to throw myself into the ring that I learn, I grow and I evolve. It's not by watching endless exercise demos that I become a better Crossfiter - it's by stepping up, asking to learn and putting the new skills into practice. And so it is in life. I can make enormous progress in a short time and gain new skills whenever I'm ready for them. I can decide to be anything I want and then make it so. All I need is that human spirit. That passion. The exact stuff that's right inside of me.

A funny that's just like me!

2010-06-23T21:42:00.001-04:00

Today has shaped up to be quite an awesome day. My cup of coffee was waiting for me first thing, prepared just the way I like it (courtesy of the Acadian and his mad coffee-brewing skills). I indulged in a spur of the moment bike ride in the sunshine to visit Mr. Swan (not to be confused with Ms.Swan) at High Park.

And the highlight - an afternoon spent lunching, chatting and relaxing at the salt baths with two lovely ladies that I hadn't seen in far too long. Yes - didn't you know? This is how all ranting aspiring writers live their lives. Well this one anyway. For today. I think it was well deserved considering that during much of my day yesterday, I was consumed by thoughts of puke.

And an extra little surprise - I found a most awesome blog - with cartoons! Super-cool cartoons. And one that validates my very existence:

That made me smile. :-) There are lots more awesome illustrations and witty captions on Alex Noriega's blog Stuff No One Told Me. You can check it out for yourself, and you should, since I'm only posting two more of them because those are the rules, and if I break them, Alex will kick my ass. Fair enough. I happily honor the sacred code of kicking butt.

Ranting Writer. Warning - contains multiple references to puke.

2010-06-22T22:49:00.000-04:00

I often wonder what will become of this whole "experiment" that I'm in the middle of. You know, the one where I quit my perfectly good, well-paying job and live off of my savings for as long as they will carry me without the slightest clue as to where I might be going. At this precise moment in time, the "experiment" can go on for about another 3 months, at which point I can pursue options such as...

1. Getting a "normal" job.

2. Locating and living out of a nice cardboard box and perhaps doing some panhandling on the side, which I have been informed I could do rather well at during the summer months if I wear revealing clothes.

3. Take the experiment to a new level and turn into something good.

You guessed it, I'm hoping for number 3, and not just because option number 1 makes me want to puke a little bit inside my mouth like I do when I hear Coldplay and Nickelback on the radio. I was kinda sorta really completely hoping that the whole purpose of this experiment would be to get me to number 3, but I tell ya, I'm scared shitless now that I have this big deadline looming, ticking even louder than my biological clock, both of which are impossible to drown out by playing Dave Matthew's "So Much to Say" on repeat for hours on end. Trust me. I have tried.

So in my last post, I gave myself a lovely 6-month review. I got a lot of stuff done. I really did. Perhaps some people could have done more with it, but this is how I've invested that time, and I'm happy with what I've gotten in return. I've learned about a lot of things I want to do and a bunch of others I'd rather not pursue.

Let's focus on what I want to do. Lets? Ha! Who am I kidding. Sylvie: focus on what *you* want to do. Ok then.

I want to write. Specifically, I want to write about things I like. I want to write about these things because incorporating them into my life has totally transformed it. I want to write about those things and the transformations that took place so that I can share them with other people. If I have to sit on all these great ideas and thoughts that are in my head, that could help other people have more happiness in their lives, it will just drive me mad, and just thinking about it makes me want to throw up in my mouth a little bit again, and really, if I get to the point where I can accept this, well then I might as well just go out and buy a Coldplay t-shirt and blast Nickelback from my sub-par car stereo. (the stereo bit is not meant as a jab to Nickelback fans. My car stereo really is sub-par.)

So to summarize, the goal I have set for myself is to write about ways that my life has been transformed for the better and share that with other people in the hopes that it might help them too. And I would like to talk about all that stuff too. In front of a bunch of people. 100's. Maybe even 1000's. Why? Because nobody else likes public speaking, and I do. Yes, I actually do.

I've made some progress on getting all of this to come to life. I've started the writing bit - I don't know how many pages it will be but I know what message I want to get across. And in August, I'm going to be hosting an online radio show in conjunction with Lightworker Magazine. It's my own show actually, all to myself, and I've been nervous about it for weeks. And the theme for both of them? It's oh-so-mature. It's about growing up. And how I think so many of us have been doing it all wrong. The best part is that I could go on and on about it for hours and I'm filled with passion for it! Passion - yay!

But knowing what I want to do and having zoned in on a theme are only half the battle - I need to get it out there. Correction - I need to get it out there in a way that will pay my bills. I've developed a horrible case of analysis paralysis while poring over insane amounts of research online, learning about ways to get my message out there and keep a roof (preferably not cardboard) over my head. And you know what? All I want to do is write. I don't want to research. I don't want to tweak my message. I just want to let it out. But is that wise? Again, I don't have the brainpower to answer that one because when I do think about it, my attention is diverted back to my stomach, and yes, that pukey feeling. Shall I literally just go with my gut, throw all logic aside and write my book or document or whatever thing it becomes once it's done and forget any past ideas I've had about marketing since my present doesn't seem to include the ability to entertain them for longer than it takes for a monkey to eat a banana? Really? I would suck it up, but it seems I've used up all the battery life for the marketing motor that hummed so steadily all those years, and when I try, all I get is that awful "yeeeeeeeeAAAAnk" sound that signals to car owners that whatever they did when they just turned the key was really not right.

So shall I write then? Regardless of the target market that my future readers fall into? With the simple wish that they find my writings enjoyable to read and maybe even useful to making positive changes in their life? Trust that anything that needs to happen so that those who will benefit from my work will find it? Trust that it will all be ok? That I will be ok? That it's ok to trust the Universe?

Trust. It seems it's all I have left. That and three months' worth of living expenses saved up.

When I started this experiment, I trusted. I didn't know what I wanted to do, but I trusted I soon would. And now I do. It seems the Universe has met me halfway in this trust-building exercise, let me know that it's game for my big plans, that it's got my back. It's earned my trust. I'd be foolish to have come this far and turn back now. So I will write. Just write. Until my gut feels good at the thought of doing something else. Until the Universe lets me know what's next. I just wish it wasn't so damn scary.

The 6 month review

2010-06-15T18:24:00.000-04:00

Wow. I am nervous. It's really silly, since I'm here all by myself, sitting on the couch, but I have butterflies in my stomach and yeah, it's full blown nervousness. Out of nowhere, this lovely little thought popped into my head: exactly 6 months ago today, I presented my boss with a resignation letter and my plan to leave to go pursue "something else". I don't know where the guts to do it came from exactly, and I certainly didn't have a rock-solid plan, but I leaped, and time has just flown by ever since.

Instead of feeling nostalgic over that moment, it's as though another side of my personality, one that is authoritative yet fair, has taken over, sending the rest of me into the queasy stomach tank. "So Sylvie", it asks, "what have you done in these 6 months since that big day that changed your life?" Yikes! That is a big question. Had it come from anyone else other than myself, I could have done all the backpedaling and story-padding I wanted, but since it is coming from me, well, the bullshit won't do me any good nor will it take me very far. So here goes - my self-written report for my first 6 months post-regular-job-resignation:

I actually managed to quit and work those last 4 weeks that I had promised in my letter without chickening out on this grand idea of somehow making a better life for myself by following my gut.
I figured out what it was to become vegan. I ate and even drank a shitload of green stuff and I liked it too. I learned how to cook healthy food and I learned how to shop for it too. I became obsessed with it, and then I chilled the hell out about it so that I could live a normal life. Now I still eat healthy, but fish are again my friends whether they're in the ocean or in my tummy, and sometimes eggs and chickens who have had happy lives make it onto my plate too, although I will not begin to debate which one got there first.
I've taken classes. Good lord, so many freakin' classes. Cooking classes, reiki courses, angel seminars, business workshops and my absolute fave of the bunch - The Calling Workshop... aka: what the %^$# am I doing with my life ?!
I've written. Bits are here, others are part of my monthly column at www.lightworkermag.com and other snippets are here and there on my computer and then there are the scribbled words torn from my cutesy notebooks, where I write all my hopes, dreams, fears and pleas for help to my always-present angels. Once it's all down on paper, I fold it neatly and file it... under my pillow. Because... well just because that feels right to me. And no, the angels don't leave me money in exchange for my notes. If they did, trust me, I'd be rich!
I've shared. Despite feeling a little crazy, I openly tell people that I talk to angels, I believe in fairies and that I watch the most awesome Doreen Virtue on YouTube every day giving her oracle card readings for that day. Sure it might be a little odd or dorky but I really don't give a crap. During these months though, I can't say I have shared much food. Hmmph. Some things never change.
I kicked some fucking ass! Yes, I used the word fuck. I use it often in real life but sparingly in my writing. But when I'm at the gym, I don't hold back with anything and I let the expletives fly. I've acknowledged that it perhaps clashes with my happy zippy angel side, but let it be known that I've used harsh language with the angels too and they don't mind even one bit. So I've set the insecurity of my dual personality aside, climbed ropes, flipped tires, and power-cleaned my personal best ever (105 lbs, which is a whole 75% of my body weight, uhm, in case it matters to anyone. Ok, I'm really proud!). I've learned I don't need to be the best, but getting better and better makes me happy, doing things I never thought I could do thrills me and when it's all said and done, I can come home, have a shower and resume talking to the fairies.

I am still in a relationship. This my dear friends is not all due to my efforts, and I've often wondered how I don't send the Acadian into a constant state of panic with my continuous stream of new ideas, thoughts to ponder, perplexing questions that leave me frustrated for days on end, and of course, the whole thing about having a girlfriend at home all the time doing as she pleases, not earning a cent most days and very rarely cooking. Indeed, when he tells me he loves me, I know for sure it's true! And for all this and so, so, so much more, I love him very dearly too. And I so have the worse crush on him. Still.

I've gone into business for myself. This one is pretty scary. I've come out and announced to the world that I now do angel readings and Reiki. I write and even hope to speak in public sometime very soon to share my love, passion and everything my zany self can give to teach others that they are perfect being them and I am perfect being me. I have admitted to myself that this whole Reiki thing has pretty much tanked for me. I've forgiven myself for not being successful at something I'm likely not meant to do in the first place and have given thanks for learning about such a cool way of healing. I have taken this energy and re-invested it in other projects that involve that big love of mine - writing all my kooky ideas out for you fine folks to read them.
I have been brave and taken on the challenge of organizing a new online radio station and even agreeing to host my own show, even though this is all completely new territory to me. I'm nervous about it. I'm even a little scared. That irritating Mean Lady keeps popping into my head proclaiming "what the hell do you think you could do a radio show about, and why should anyone care?", and each time, I kick her sorry ass to the curb and get on with my planning.

I've had days where I felt the love, and others where it seemed everyone hated me. I've spent days sitting out in the sun writing, a morning under the covers crying and a brief moment in the hall next to the broken elevator, sobbing. Really, I've done a heck of a lot during all this time, so much more than I can fit into this post, but really, it can all be summed up into doing one crucial, endlessly important thing: I have spent these last 6 months being completely, truly and utterly me. And that, that is worth every moment, every tear, every smile and every penny.

Keep your hands and arms inside at all times? Bah!

2010-06-11T12:35:00.000-04:00

Hello blog! I really hope your temperament is different from a cat's and that you won't sulk for days now that I'm back to make me feel bad for staying away for so long. I'm in too good a mood anyway, and if you were a cat, I would just pet you and cuddle you, and your sour mood would just make it more fun for me and less for you.

I guess I just wanted to pop by and drop off some good vibes. It's been a roller coaster of a month. Month-and-a-half. You know, a long-ish period of time. I've been trying out a few strategies to deal with it. Covering my eyes, clenching my gut, getting angry that I decided to get on the damn roller coaster in the first place, second guessing the safety harness... But really though, isn't the roller coaster meant to be fun? I can fight it all I want, but once I'm on, there's not really any getting off until the ride is over. I suppose they could stop it mid-ride and put up a ladder to get me, but I can't imagine what I'd have to do to get their attention since many people have done jaw-dropping things on a ride and still not managed to get the operator to stop it. Yeah, all I need now is a YouTube video of me doing something angry and obscene ending up in my Mom's inbox. That's right Mom - I'm always lookin' out for ya!

So I'm going to ride the roller coaster, like a big girl who'll always be 12, or 8, or maybe 19 on those days she feels like a drink. I'm going to laugh hysterically, scream really loud, throw up my arms and keep the puke down. And when the ride grinds to a halt, I'll jump off and smile, run to buy the photo, and line up for more. Cause if you catch my screaming, gravity distorted face on camera, it'll sure be fun to see!

Now I'm off for a nervous pee, cause it's time to get going and jump into that seat. Because right at this moment, now, as we speak, I'm as perfect a me as I'll ever be.

Quit sucking already

2010-05-19T17:18:00.000-04:00

Those are the lovely words that I just heard inside my head. Yes indeed, there is a not-so-polite voice that lives up there but it's wise enough to know that sometimes I need some tough love. And when it was done talking, it pushed me out the window. Well, not really. I agreed to climb out my window onto the nice patch of grass that the Acadian and I affectionately refer to as "our yard" these days. It even came complete with a pink flamingo!

But now that I've managed to lighten the mood, let's get back to sucking. That is what I have been doing for the past day and a half. It seems some sucky-ass chicken part of me thought that is was ok to call it a day after my workout. Trouble is, my workout is at 10am. Being alone all day, I whined and complained to the only person there to listen: me. "I'm so tired", "ugh, why am I so tired?", "oh my god, what can I do to stop being so tired?" and more crappy excuses of the like. You would think that being tired as I was, I would have just climbed into bed and slept until I wasn't tired anymore, but apparently, dragging my butt around and whining won out.

Today had been shaping up pretty much the same. "I wonder if what I ate for lunch is what made me tired?" I wondered, and that's all it took for the tough-love voice to figure out that it was likely in for another afternoon of whining, so it did what it had to do. Well, thank you butchy voice - I needed that!

Now that I have actually gotten myself outside in the fresh air with Mr. Laptop - I can finally get writing about something I've been neglecting for a while.

Waaaay back in the first week of May, my lovely blog friend Faiza at It's Gonna Be A Lovely Day was sweet enough to give me the Sunshine Award. I was so touched - I was in the middle of my moving mayhem, and, again, I was feeling quite sucky, and reading her post instantly brought some much needed warmth to my heart.

Now, there are a few rules explaining how the Sunshine Award works:

1. Put the beautiful logo on your blog with a post.
2. Pass the award on to 7 bloggers.
3. Link the nominees within your post.
4. Let them know they received this award by commenting on their blog.
5. Share the love and the link to the person from whom you received this award.

Since I'm not one for doing things in order, I'm going straight to #5 first. If you have never visited Faiza's blog and you need an instant smile on that face of yours, well, you know what to do. I love how she fills her life with so much fun stuff and appreciates all the little things that come along to bring her joy.

So now on to #2 and passing the award along to...

Mary
Not only is Mary super talented at capturing the beauty in her life with words in her blog, The Bright Side, she's also a wonderfully gifted photographer who's shots have me dreaming of San Francisco.

Mireille
Because of her courage, honesty, and most of all, her beautiful, loving heart, Mireille touches the lives of so many who are dealing with the pain of losing a child by sharing her story, thoughts and emotions so candidly. She's the most wonderful Mom her little Adelle could have hoped for.

Carrie
Her passion for cooking inspires me and her fearlessness in the face (or any other part) of chicken never ceases to amaze me. She also has the coolest blog name ever: Kitchen Vixen!

Joana
Her blog, Ecological Storyteller, is super charming! Joana shares stories of her life in Portugal, her love of art, the earth and pen-paling.

Terri
This gal has an awesome adventure ahead of her - travelling the world to find spiritual truths. Lucky for us, she's going to blog all about it and I for one can't wait to see what she finds out there!

Kim
My friend Kim at Milkybeer is the craftiest Mom I know. I'm always amazed at the cool stuff she creates and the cuteness of her parenting stories.

Renée
She might be tougher than me, but she's still the little sister. She blogs about her adventures in the world of fitness and weightlifting and is always quick to laugh, often at herself.

And there you have it! An awesome list of blogs that are sure to cure any suckiness mucking about!

My apologies to the chickens

2010-05-14T15:23:00.004-04:00

What is wrong with this picture: I'm sitting on my couch in my brand new apartment, trying to start my June article for Lightworker Magazine. There's loud music playing, I'm sipping on a cup of coffee, and I just polished off a spinach, chicken and goat cheese salad.

My tasty quicky "pizza" from last night on a brown rice
tortilla with goat mozarella, zucchini, olives and basil.

Yes indeed, it seems this whole vegan thing isn't quite working out anymore. I feel better and a little sad all at once. There's a lot less stress associated with eating when you don't have to rule out so much, but there's the feeling of giving in to something I've been wanting to distance myself from. My reasons for going vegan in the first place were good - I wanted to explore another level of healthy eating, stop contributing to areas of the food industry that are in many cases gross and unethical and also not cause harm to animals. And for a while, I was doing good. But when I got back into Crossfit about a month ago, it took about a week of workouts and research to realize that the protein I was getting from my diet was nowhere near adequate. My body felt it and what I read only served to back it up. I stressed about it. I even had an emergency meeting with my naturopath (it's ok to laugh, I laugh in retrospect of what I considered to be an "emergency" at the time) and it seems she and I are on the same wavelength: you gotta eat. It's great to want to make an impact on our society and the food industry, but if those choices are impeding your day-to-day life, it's time to reel it in a little bit. Yeah, I suppose I could down loads of protein powder and soy each day, but personally, I don't think humans were put on this earth to eat powder, and excess soy brings along its own slew of problems too. So the compromise: adding fish, chicken, eggs and goat dairy products (goat milk products don't cause digestion problems for me like cow's milk products do). If felt weird at first. I liked that I had been sustaining myself without any animals having to give their lives, but I have to be healthy too. And I take much comfort in the fact that no matter what you eat, you can help the food industry evolve towards higher standards. So I buy free-range eggs, sustainably caught fish and free range, antibiotic free chicken. I eat what I need, I don't waste, and I'm thankful that I live in a world where I can make choices like this.

It took me a little while to come to terms with why I was doing this. Because I want to do really intense exercise that makes most people cringe? Kinda stupid, no? It seemed so selfish. But if I'm not meant to do this, than why am I so excited about it? Why is my little soul so full of passion for lifting heavy weights, climbing ropes and doing pull-ups? I really don't know, but one thing I'm sure of is if that I wasn't supposed to be doing it, the Universe wouldn't have given me this massive amount of passion for it. I see it as a part of the trail it wants me to follow. Why did it lead me down the vegan trail? I could say it was a wrong turn, but I really don't think so. Perhaps it will come to make even more sense later on, but these few months have really taught me to pay attention to what I put into my body, where it comes from and what effect it has on me. I think it's a lesson well worth learning.

The coffee, well, that's another story. I gave it up in January, and I hadn't craved it until last week. After a horrible, horrible moving weekend, it was time to settle into the new place. Seriously, I never thought moving to another floor in the same apartment building could be so awful. After turning down my parent's help thinking that surely, the Acadian and I could get our few pieces of furniture into the elevator and down the hall on our own, this same elevator broke twice (it was down for 6 hours one day) and my poor guy spent two days in bed with a terrible case of food poisoning that had us visit the emergency room in the middle of the night. It was not a happy time. Moving stresses me out like nothing else, and the second time the elevator broke, I just sat in the hallway and sobbed. Alright, so it seems a little exaggerated now, but it felt appropriate at the time.

Hello Mr. Coffee. I've missed you.

So back to unpacking. Although I'm not cranky in the morning without the coffee and I quite enjoy my tea, well, let's just say I'm not a super go-getter like I used to be after a cuppa joe. And unpacking? Well, I guess I was longing for that bit of je-ne-sais-quoi (ok, I know "quoi" it's called caffeine!!!) to get me into high gear. So, I compromised and bought hippie coffee: fair-trade organic coffee that I drink with a bit of raw honey and almond milk (still made in my vitamix). Sure, it's not a healthy addition to my diet, but considering I only have one cup a day (if I even have it each day) and I enjoy it so much, it must at least be good for my soul. It bothers me a little that I depend on caffeine to give me that extra push, but I've decided not to beat myself up about it.

Yes, things are a changin' in my little world, but one thing remains constant: I still firmly believe that raw chicken is pure, pure evil.

A shade of purple to call my own

2010-05-13T18:20:00.011-04:00

As a kid, I loved puzzles. I started with cute wooden puzzles with just a few pieces and eventually worked my way up to massive photos with over 1000. And then there was my beloved New Kids On The Block puzzle that served the purpose of blocking the heating vent under my bed long after I got over the cuteness of Joe. But of all the puzzles I've encountered in my life, I never thought that the most perplexing one would be me.

For as long as I can remember, I've never felt like I fit in with others. But what I find interesting is that I never really tried either. For a good chunk of grade school, I was considered a bit of a dork, and the eighth grader in me is still angry at the girl who relentlessly called me "square bear" because I was too shy to kiss the boys. (I know, it's time to let it go already) I didn't like it, but I certainly wasn't going to go plant one on some guy just to get her to ease up. By high school though, I seemed to just fly under the radar - I wasn't popular by any means, but I wasn't the butt of anyone's joke, which was nice. I wasn't a trouble-maker, but I didn't try to blend in either. I wore a hot pink hair clip as my protest against the strict uniform dress code (daring, I know) and chose sex as my topic for my grade 12 essay just to see if I could push the teacher's buttons (amazingly, they let it slide). Peaceful protest seems to be my thing, yet I always wished I could get some sort of a rise out of people, which I have to say I rarely ever do.

Hello quirky side!

Over the past few years, I've noticed that there are two very distinct sides to my personality. The first is a small child. She likes to have fun, look at pretty things and marvel at simple pleasures. She's quirky and curious and quick to smile. And then there's the other side... She gets frustrated with things, even angry, and she likes to kick ass, whether it's at work or at the gym. For years, I've felt that these were "good" and "bad" sides of me, and that I'd be wise to ditch the bad. But it's only recently I've realized they are both just "sides", and the best thing to do is to allow them to co-exist because they are meant to work together. Wow - stumped for this long by a two-piece puzzle!

The very first issue of Lightworker Magazine that came out this January had an article by my new friend Mel Diamond. It was all about Indigo Adults, something I hadn't heard much about until then. What got to me most was a list of characteristics of Indigo adults - most of them applied to me at one point or another in my life. Each month, I read Mel's articles, and I identify more and more with the Indigos. What seemed to mask it for me at first was my "good" side - although I may have felt angry or rebellious at times, my tendency towards the sweet side made it all less obvious.

So what is an Indigo anyways? Good question. I really like this explanation by Doreen Virtue who has written a lot on the topic:

"Indigos have a warrior spirit, because their collective purpose is to mash down old systems that no longer serve us. They are here to quash government, educational, and legal systems that lack integrity. To accomplish this end, they need tempers and fiery determination."

The side that needs to climb ropes.

So I'm supposed to be angry? It has a purpose? Although I don't *enjoy* the feeling of being ticked off, it did make me feel a whole lot better that there was some sort of constructive purpose behind it. And to also know that there were a bunch of other people out there like me, who all felt they were here to change things, many of whom didn't quite know how to go about it either? Yay! There are others out there! But are they all quirky and cheerio-loving like me? That's the part I've had trouble with.

Although I still don't try to fit in, I think I'm always looking for other people who are just like me. I'm lucky to have found the Acadian, who is just about as much like me as he can get without one of us undergoing a sex change! And I think the more I get to know myself, the more I realize I won't ever come across anyone just like me because we're all so perfectly different. So although these days I feel a bit peculiar leaving my lovely, airy, girly girl Reiki studio/office to don ratty gym clothes and a bandanna and hurry to the gym to go smash medicine balls into a wall and do my best to outrun firefighters (which I don't), I'm starting to make peace with the idea that I'm supposed to be like this. Could it be that my sweet side is what helps me get that harsh medicine down people's throats? I see now that I don't have to pick a side. I'm supposed to be a quirky ass-kicking girl who's into angels and loud angry music. Sure it sounds weird, but so am I. I'm starting to get used to it, and best of all, love it.

Things my "sides" watched on YouTube today....

The peaceful side...

The angry side...

Full Moon Madness

2010-04-28T14:46:00.001-04:00

Some things change, and most of the time, I'm all for it, but there are certain constants that I enjoy, like my little morning routine. Other than catching up on emails and random Facebook happenings with a cup of tea, I always make a point of checking my horoscope at www.boothstars .com. Although they are just about always on the mark, I was especially happy to read today's forecast from the stars for us Scorpios:

"Changes are coming and their big ones. The Full Moon is making you acutely conscious that you are entering a transitional period in your life. And it’s a good transition. Continuing with the status quo is no longer an option. Life has to bring more satisfaction and fulfilment at a deeper emotional and spiritual level. Give it all a little time and you’ll find that your initial apprehension will disappear as you get swept along by all the excitement that’s in store."

(I also giggled a little that Mr. Booth, who often has me googling definitions for words I've never heard in my life, is capable of making their they're there grammar mistakes too!)

Wow. Even Mr. Booth and the stars understand. These past few days, I've been caught up in some full moon madness. I've been stir-crazy inside my nearly-packed, over-crammed little apartment, anxiously waiting to move everything down a few flights to the new place. A very annoying feeling of anxiety has been looming, the ghost of an unpleasant move past, that I just can't seem to shake. Not to mention my new-found paranoia (which is probably well-founded) that I'm not getting enough protein in my no-longer-vegan diet which has led me to eat eggs and fish again (more on that another day). Add to that the feeling of electricity in the air that leaves you unsure whether a spark will set off fireworks or an explosion, and you know the moon must have something to do with all the craziness swirling around.

But there have been some recent gifts that I'm really very thankful for, and one of them is the ability to not get swallowed up by all the mayhem. To acknowledge it for what it is - a temporary shift in energy that has a strange effect on me. Another gift is again that little verb "to be". One sure-fire way I have discovered to stress myself out is to ask myself, "Sylvie, what have you accomplished in these two-and-a-half months since you've taken your big plunge?". Immediately, my mind jumps to all the moments of uncertainty, my ever-shrinking bank account, days spent agonizing over doing yoga, meditating and eating well. It then starts to wonder where all the time goes and why I can't seem to get all the dishes, laundry and cleaning done. My mind loves to point out what I haven't done. And no, this is not what I'm thankful for. But being able to shift into another gear that lets me see what I have done, that is just a wonderful treat. And it's not even so much what I've done, but more what I've become. And that is me. More and more, I've started to just be.

One of my favorite reminders to just take a deep breath and enjoy the moment comes to me often when I'm in my car. I couldn't tell you how many times I've been fretting over traffic only to hear this song come on and be completely soothed.

So again, I remind myself to take a deep breath and smile as I ride this wave of change under the moonlit sky.

Imma Bee

2010-04-20T22:49:00.001-04:00

Me and my twin, sorry, little sister.
We share genes but not music.

As much as my sister and I are alike, we have very different tastes in music. There's a lot we can agree on, but I often end up cringing at some of the songs on her playlists. Ok, ok, I will admit to liking a few of the Lady Gaga songs that she played while we were getting ready to go out dancing on Saturday night, but when the Black Eye Peas song Imma Be came on, well, yeah, I'm not a fan of that one. "What are they saying?" I asked. "Is it a song about them being bees?" My sister quickly explained that it wasn't about bees - Imma be means "I'm gonna be". Fair enough. "Can we shut it off now?" I asked.

Funny how this little tune I so dislike seemed to usher in a new theme these past few days: being. I started to realize it when I joined a discussion on the topic on a friend's Facebook page. It seems that the idea of "just being", although it seems simple enough, isn't always such.

So what are we supposed to do, to "just be"? Is it a sit tight and wait for things to happen kind of thing? Well, I think it's a yes and no answer to this one. I think "being" and "feeling" are much the same. For me, just being means doing what I feel I should do. And granted, although most people "feel" like they would rather just stay at home rather than go to work or tend to other responsibilities, I think that I'm living proof that after a little while of doing just that, you get over it and start feeling like doing "stuff". And my stuff, I am sure, is entirely different than other people's stuff.

IMMA BEE!!! Yup, you know what song came
on when I brought out this brilliant dance move!

The problem that I've had with "just being" though, is that my brain wants in on the fun too. It wants to put in its two cent's worth, but frankly, I wish it would just stay out of it sometimes! It's a private party with me and my gut - no brain invited!!! Well, not yet anyway. Sure, my brain has some value, like helping me figure out how to do my taxes and remembering oodles of 80's Madonna lyrics, but sometimes, my brain gets hijacked by the Mean Lady, and all of its logic seems to come to one simple conclusion: that my latest inspiration is sheer stupidity and that I should abandon the offending idea immediately.

My gut on the other hand, it doesn't bother putting together complicated schemes to get me to do or not do anything. It just feels stuff. Excitement, happiness, joy, nervousness, stress, dread, sadness. The emotions pretty much fall into two categories - fun or unpleasant. My general rule is that if my gut points to fun, I'm on the right path, and if it's sitting in a pool of unpleasant, well, yeah, it's back-to-the-drawing-board time.

Right at this moment, there is a big fight taking place in the ring over here...

The Main Event: Will we allow Sylvie to register for the Crossfit Level 1 Certification in July?

In the blue corner, we have Sylvie's gut, intuition, governess of feelings! For over a year, she's always thought that taking the certification would be a lot of fun. Her pulse races and excitement builds each time she thinks about it!

In the red corner, we have The Mean Lady - the dream killer, the fun squasher, the creator of uncertainty! For over a year, she has held the title of Crossfit Killjoy by using excuses such as "What is the point of spending money on this certification?", "Doing something just because if seems like fun is stupid." and "People like you should be doing yoga, not getting certifications, or gasp, even worse, potentially teaching, Crossfit!"

Ladies and gentlemen, this evening's fight is going to be a short one. Sylvie's gut is standing atop her corner of the ring shouting some fighting words at the Mean Lady.

IMMA BE REGISTERING - RIGHT NOW!!!

POW! A knockout for Sylvie's gut! The Mean Lady didn't even see what hit her!

Crossfit Level 1 Certification - here I come!

Curious what a Crossfit Certification seminar is like?

Giving the whirlwind a little twirl

2010-04-13T23:52:00.000-04:00

Boring? Uhm, No. Having fun on a photo shoot
with KV - chef and photographer extraordinaire!

It finally happened. On Sunday evening, while doing the some very exciting laundry folding, I looked up at the Acadian and said "I'm bored." He was a little taken by surprise - those could be some pretty harsh words coming from your girlfriend - but he was quickly reassured that I was just bored of living my unscheduled, on-a-whim life of late - not him. The Acadian is certainly anything but boring!

It seems that sleeping on it didn't change my mind, and Monday morning, I was at the gym bright and early, came home to do some online research to figure out how the heck one goes about doing small business accounting and then off to a meditation night with some lovely ladies. Yay - a full day!

And I had another one of those today! I've decided that the gym early in the morning (my definition of early is 9ish. I know. That's not really *early*. But really, what would your early be if you could decide?) is a very good reason to get out of bed. It seems I need some sort of appointment, a reason why I do have to get up by let's say 7:30 as opposed to 8:30 or 9am, and the gym is doing that quite nicely. And there, KV's hubby, who also happens to be a super awesome trainer, took me through a tough workout where I almost puked. Ahhh... All is right in the world today! (I mean it. I like the workouts where you almost puke, spit when you breathe and swear out loud at heavy things)

I had another outing tonight too - this time, with a class full of other small business entrepreneurs. Yesterday's research led me to the Toronto Business Development Center - an awesome organization that helps people thinking about or in the process of starting a business to get it all together. They host seminars, and tonight, I learned all about market research. You'd think that after all my years working in marketing, it would be silly to sit through 3 hours on this, but I'm soooo glad I did. It's a whole different ball game when you have to do it for yourself instead of another company that you've had 5 years to wrap your head around.

What was even cooler though was to meet other people in my shoes and have them share their dreams, their little baby business ideas, with me too. I was thrilled to see that so many of them were based on green and holistic living - taking care of the earth and ourselves! Another exciting thing was that when I talked to them about my business, they didn't think I was a nut job. I'm always a little nervous to explain my ideas to strangers for fear of being thrown into an imaginary looney bin in their mind, but over and over and over again, people are curious and supportive, and it's great! Funniest of all is that they all seem to worry that people will shoot down their ideas too, when in fact they have brilliant businesses budding!

So now I'm all revved up to get going on all this great stuff I learned tonight, and also for the three other seminars coming up over the next few weeks, where one of them will cover, you guessed it, ACCOUNTING!!! I'm a little curious to see how my "marketing brain" will do on this new assignment now that it's had a good long rest. I have to admit, I'd been a little scared of unleashing that side of me on my business - part of marketing and doing business requires me to be skeptical, but I don't know that I want anyone being skeptical about my new project, even if it's just me doing my research and preparing. But I'm feeling good about those two sides making friends and getting along now. "Marketing Sylvie" will play fair and "Intuitive Sylvie" will work with her because they're both after the same result - being successful at earning a living helping others while doing things I love.

And here's the accompanying message for the card:

"The challenges you've faced have made you stronger

and have taught you new lessons. Instead of

becoming bitter, you've opened your heart with

compassion toward people in similar situations.

You've let go of any blame or feelings of victimhood.

This is why you're now overcoming your previous

challenges. Your positive outlook is attracting a

loving solution and new situations at a higher level

of spiritual understanding. Stay positive!"

Yes, things I love. And I'm reminded each day how I love them. Spending time doing angel readings for myself is how I got into all of this in the first place, and you can bet I still do it all the time! It's fun and great and uplifting all at once, but sometimes, like the past few days, it's also very persistent. During my past three readings, I have pulled the exact same card. There are 45 cards in the deck. Forty-five. And I shuffle and shuffle, and this one just flies right out - on my lap, the couch, the floor. Really, it's just pure awesomeness! And the message is like a great big hug. So what did this one have to say? Have a peek to the left.

Three cheers for rainy days

2010-04-08T21:29:00.001-04:00

A cure for the rainy day blues - cute boots and a tea latte.

And of course, a bruised banana.

It's been raining here. A lot. Back in February, I anticipated that this might happen, and I bought some very cute rubber boots (from the GT boutique for all my fellow rural shoppers) in preparation. What cheers up a rainy day like super fun hot pink plaid boots?

Yesterday morning, I was not feeling cheery. I slept in for until what felt like noon but ended up being 9:30am (ok, I hear you groaning, that's a fair amount of sleeping in but still, you don't know what I'm capable of!). I felt crummy. I wanted to go back to bed, but I didn't. I didn't want to stay home, but I didn't want to go out. I was a very irritating type of boredom.

So I did what I always do these days: I had a little chat with the Inner Child.

Sylvie: Why are you so fidgety? What do you want to do today anyway?
Inner Child: I don't want it to be today, I want it to be next month! I want to be in the new apartment (Yes! The Acadian and I are moving to a new place in exactly 22 days!)

Sylvie: I know, the new apartment will be nice, but it's nice here, what's so wrong with being here?

Inner Child: When we're over in the new place, we can have people over, and we'll do Reiki, and Angel Readings, and we can set up the patio where we have to crawl out the window (hey, sometimes, a window is the same as a door!)... It will be fun!

I paused for a while. It would be fun. I'm excited too. But still, it's three weeks, sorry, 22 days away. They might be rainy, they might be sunny, but still, a day is a day and I should do my best to enjoy it. I explained this to the Inner Child and how I don't have magical powers to suddenly make it May 1, so we would just have to have a different kind of fun until then.

So we put on the rubber boots and went for a walk. "The boots are pretty, but they make me walk funny." the Inner Child said. It was true. But we kept going. Then we saw a cardinal and we forgot all about the funny walking because we believe that cardinals were put on this earth just to make us smile, and this one did just that. Yes, my Inner Child is pretty easy to entertain - you show her a red bird and she gets all excited. I hope my future children will be awed as easily!

This week's flowers - bright pinks, yellows and oranges!

The walk kept getting better and better - a new shop with fun cards and alarm clocks that make bird noises, a tea latte at Starbucks that I remembered how to order and our favorite - flowers.

While the Inner Child was entertained by all these great things, I had a chance to think a little about what she'd said about wanting to fast-forward a few weeks in time. I really believed what I had told her about making the most of each day, yet I'd been feeling antsy and couldn't help but think I could be using my time more wisely. I reflected back on other times in my life where things have been a little more quiet, and remembered that it always comes along for a reason. It's a gift. A time to prepare for things to come. And if you don't enjoy it, before you know it, it will be gone. And you'll be smack dab in the middle of your next adventure, wishing you had a little break to breathe. And that feeling of always thinking I've missed the boat just drives me nuts!

So this week, this day, this moment, I've decided to live in the now. Getting excited about the future is great, but the best way to keep those good vibes going is by always moving forward and appreciating where you are right now. Sometimes, it may feel like it's impossible to march ahead unless time drops you on future's doorstep, but that's really not true. I can either wait until May to start running my business or I can do it now. I can either focus on how I wish I could be working in my Reiki studio right this second or I can embrace all the other exciting projects that working for myself entails and jump right into them regardless of where and when. So on these quiet rainy days, I've decided to pull out the imaginary box of Legos and start building lots of fun stuff!

Last week, I built my website, but once I got to thinking about it, I realized there was more I could do. Then I remembered that I did, after all, work in marketing for 10 years. Could I not become my own client? In my mind, I witnessed what felt like an arm wrestling match between an ad agency and a hippie. Guess who won? Ha! As always though, the hippie was given total creative control, because she is, after all, the client.

Today's project? A Facebook Fan Page! It feels weird to have people "fanning" my page, but really, it's just lingo, and it's a tool that lets me reach out to more people. Writing this blog is a big part of what I feel I need to be doing right now - documenting my journey and sharing it - and this will help me do a whole lot more sharing!

What will tomorrow bring? Well, I'm looking for an accountant to help teach me a bit about bookkeeping, and there's a housewarming party that I can start planning too...

One last little note: the new issue of Lightworker Magazine has just come out this week! If you'd like to check out this wonderful, good vibe-filled issue, it's there waiting for you!

More Meanies

2010-04-05T21:26:00.000-04:00

It's been a while since I've written about the Mean Lady, and with good reason: she has, for the most part, shut up. When I do hear faint mean and critical whispers from her, it seems to be first thing in the morning, when I'm in the shower. I guess it's when I reflect on what I'll be doing that day and what I did the day before, and oftentimes, I hear a mean criticism that makes me feel like a 5-year-old being scolded for getting her clothes dirty making mud pies. Last week, I heard "Do you realize you just told the world that you want to do Angel readings, Reiki and public speaking as a career yesterday? What are you - some kind of idiot? Get back to the real world!!!". But then it stopped. I made it stop.

Not so long ago, I would have let that voice, the Mean Lady, win. And as much as the voices are only in my head, and unless I write or talk about them, no one else will ever hear them, they DO have a HUGE impact on what my present and my future hold. That's why I'm so careful about which voice I listen to, which voice I entertain and which voice I even allow to speak. Sometimes it's hard, and the Mean Lady will just blurt something out from her hiding spot in the bushes, but I just switch right back on over and listen to the Inner Child. Me. The voice that wants to make mud pies even if we get dirty because it's fun and makes us happy. If I want things in my life that are fun and make me happy, I need to pick the voice that makes me feel that way just by listening to it. It may not seem reasonable or practical, but so far, it's been going well and even all the "grown up" details like feeding myself and paying easily get taken care of when the child's voice is the one leading. And really, how "practical" is it to listen to a voice and to do things that are drab, boring and make you feel like you're never good enough. I might not be the best person to define the word practical, but I can assure you that feeling like crap is not it.

But my own meanie isn't the only one I worry about. Worry is its own voice too. It's poisonous and stressful, but somehow, I don't mind it as much as the Mean Lady because it doesn't seek to belittle me. But it's its own breed of ickiness. It tries to wear away little holes into my pretty kite flying so high. It won't try to make me frown or cry, but it will try to straighten the smile from my lips and dim the sparkle in my eye.

Worry makes me think about the other meanies out there. The voices in other people's heads telling them their friend is crazy, going through some phase, losing it, a few bricks short of a load... It worries about the worst but I seem to keep it at bay by doing a quick reality check - if anyone in my circle has ever thought any of those awful things I worry about, very very few of them have told me so. And this makes me feel oh so much better. Until someone does actually say one of those things out loud to me.

A few days ago, worry's worst fear landed in my lap: I was asked, in an "are you for real" tone if I seriously believed in angels and that they could talk to us and help us. Surprisingly, worry was nowhere to be found when it was time to answer the question. One point for me. Then I explained how I felt and that yes, I was "for real" about it. Two points. Yay!

Afterwards, I was upset about it though. That one crummy question didn't make me second-guess myself, but I was sad because of it. And I cried. But then I heard the Inner Child's voice saying "let's not be sad" in the way that only a child can. She was right. I didn't want to be sad anyway, and this wasn't such a big deal anyway. Until something good came of it that is.

As I worked on pulling myself out of my sadness, I thought of all the wonderful people in my circle who don't question me but instead, support me in their unique way. Their kind words, thoughtful comments, helpful gestures and encouraging smiles. Those who ask curious questions, give my answers a shot and those who study my examples and even give them a try. If my life were a stadium, my pyramid of cheerleaders would be standing tall, the bleachers on my side would be full thumbs up and smiles. Worry on the other hand would be at her end hiding behind the goalpost, too chicken to tell her coach the Mean Lady that she was bailing on the match. And the Inner Child and I? We'd be rockin' it out with one good-enough cartwheel after the next, not worried one bit that we might not be following the rule book.

The Cheerios keep me coming back for more

2010-03-31T20:19:00.001-04:00

I know it's been a while since my last post, so I figured I would start it off by dazzling you with this wonder of photography that was produced on my very own dining room table:

In no particular order: paper flowers, polka dot ribbons, pompoms, animal snouts, googley eyes, marbles, drink umbrellas and my little loves - Cheerios.

Oh yes, what a fun mix of stuff this is! And do you know what it was for? For designing the look of my new website of course! What says Reiki and Angel Readings more than googley eyes, marbles and pompoms? No? Ok, the animal snouts and drink umbrellas weren't for the site, but I couldn't resist - they were a dollar each. A dollar I tell you!

So back to this site building business. I tinkered. I photographed. I edited. And do you want to know what I came up with? Do you? Do you really? Because I find it quite fascinating. Here, is the final product, as seen on my computer, or as can be seen on yours or any other at www.cheeriolala.com:

Uhm yeah, I totally planned that it would look like the blog. I just like trips to the buck store and home photography!

Yes. You would be correct in your assumption. It does look pretty much exactly like this blog does. Funny how that works.

It seems ridiculous to say that the design of this blog is what had originally inspired me for creating my new website. I love all the little photos I ended up with when I redesigned my blog a few months ago, and each of the objects pictured is something that I own and love very very much, and that I photographed myself with my beloved Cheerios (uhm, with the Cheerios in the photo, not with them helping me take the pictures). The idea for my new venture though is that I am an Intuitive Cheerleader - even my new title was inspired by the Cheerios! So I had visions of pompoms, and maybe even an angel with a Cheerio halo. Really, how cool would that be? But I was adamant about the fact that the site had to be 100% me. I'll only be successful if I'm completely authentic and I wanted everything to be just right. I started photographing, but nothing really did it for me. I went so far as so make my own pompoms. (Yes, one can make pompoms with a little determination, some cardboard and a whole lotta yarn). After spending many, many hours agonizing over little puff balls, it dawned on me: I am not a pompom girl. And as I kept flicking back to look at the design of this blog, I realized that it feels so much like me, so much like home. So there you have it.

For anyone curious about putting together a site, www.cheeriolala.com didn't cost me a cent except for the $10 USD I spent to register the domain name. I built in on blogger using their newly-launched template designer feature and a lot of scrolling through help forums. But I did it!

The new hair colour - fire!

Building the site didn't take me the one-and-a-half weeks I've been *away* but you know, I've been a busy girl! During that time, the Acadian and I obsessed over whether or not we would get a sweet 2-bedroom apartment in our building (an awesome upgrade for us, and yes, we did get it!), entertained his little sister and her boyfriend while they visited Toronto (although I'm not sure how entertaining I was while agonizing over pompoms), hugged a tree on Saturday in honour of Earth Hour (Ok, a person dressed as a tree. And we shut off all our electrics too. Except the fridge. That seemed excessive. And clocks. How else would you know the hour is over?) and yesterday, finally, I got my hair coloured (which only accounts for about 2 hours of that week-and-a-half, but still). And I also learned that although it may be good for the soul to ignore my sensitivity to wheat for 15 minutes to allow myself to enjoy a fresh, custom baked cookie from the evil, yummy, too-hard-to-resist bakery down the street, it was not good for my tummy. But it was a damn good cookie.

Passing the vegan learning curve

2010-03-20T12:09:00.000-04:00

It just occured to me this week that I'm not such a vegan newbie anymore. Amazingly enough, it's now been over 2 months since I made the switch to veganism, and other than the occasional dream about chicken (cooked chicken, not raw chicken because those would be nightmares, not dreams) and the sighs that follow my mmmm's when I get a whiff of steak or pizza while walking down the street, I've been doing pretty good with it.

One thing I have learned - it's almost impossible to eat out at "normal" restaurants - you know, when you're going out with a group of people who appreciate steak and chicken and don't fancy dragging them to a vegan restaurant just because of you. My brother laughed one day as we called around to find a restaurant that could feed me - "ask if they can accommodate a rabbit!" he joked!

Lucky for me though, I've been doing pretty well with the cooking. At first, I was a bit flustered by it - it took time to read through recipes, figure out what the heck all the ingredients were, were to buy them, how on earth to prepare them, and then cross my fingers that they would all taste good once I did what I was supposed to with them. It seems that just a few weeks ago, I expected that this is what it would be like all the time - all this effort and stress, but I realized that I have the hang of it now. I don't have to cook something new every day and have riddiculous amounts of leftovers, and I can freeze big batches of soup and eat that when I feel like staying in my pajamas all day (which I am not ashamed to say I have done a few times now). Improvising in the kitchen is even a fun thing now, and I made an awesome zucchini soup this week, all by using my imagination and some spices! Uhm, and the zucchini too.

My biggest challenge always comes in the grocery store though. You can go vegan and eat complete junk, but I feel really strongly that I want to eat yummy whole foods that haven't been processed too much and are grown organically as much as possible. And, in a lot of cases, organic = $$$, which is a little scary for a gal like me. There are times when I still can't bring myself to do it. Like paying $8 for a bottle of organic cold-pressed canola oil (I've tried for 2 weeks and keep shaking my head and putting it back on the shelf). But even the shopping is getting easier. I spent an awesome afternoon exploring little stores in my neighbourhood this week and I now know where I can get all my staples for a decent price, including yummy produce and things that are new to me like tempeh. And, of course, there are loads and loads of stores that sell flowers, and although I don't eat them, they seem to find their way home with me at the end of each weekly shopping trip. Although it may sound crazy, the idea that I can justify buying fresh flowers every week is one of my proudest achievements, and I really, really enjoy them!

The one thing that I think I'm most super proud of is that I started making my own almond milk. I used to buy it at the store, and when an acquaintance told me he made his own, I thought he was off his rocker - why make it when you can buy a handy tetra pack for $3? But when I realized how super easy it was, I gave it a try and it's awesome! If you ever want to try, all you do is soak 1/2 cup of almonds overnight then put them in your blender with some water (less for thicker milk, more for thinner) and 2 or 3 dates - or my latest thing - maple syrup - to sweeten it a little. You blast it for a bit, strain the liquid into a jar, and there you go - homemade almond milk full of love and goodness!

Photos, from top to bottom: A made up vegan creation. No, I don't remember how I made it; Yummy rice veggie wraps I learned how to make at my cooking class; A savory smoothie I made while on my cleanse with spinach, tomato and beets. Um, I don't recommend this one...; This week's flowers - primulas - aka - pretty bright colored flowers that are making me smile!; Now living in my fridge - homemade almond milk and tempeh. So far, they haven't been too rowdy in there..

Everyday Magic

2010-03-18T11:15:00.012-04:00

So it may seem silly to you, but I had been looking forward to last weekend's angel certification seminar more and more since the day I registered for it. It had started off as a fun thing to do with Mi to learn more about angels, but as time passed, I couldn't help but feel maybe there was more to it than that. I was convinced that something magical was going to happen - you know, maybe the Virgin Mary would appear in the middle of the room to bless us all and tell us what our life's purpose was while she handed each of us a cherry lollipop. I mean really, is that so much to ask?

When I read a tweet by Charles Virtue, the man giving the seminar, saying "On my way to Toronto for my first Canadian ACP class. I am really looking forward to a magical weekend :)", I was convinced - there *was* gonna be magic!

The first day of the seminar rolls around, and the beautiful weather we've been enjoying here turned into pure ick. But I didn't care. As we got our butts over to the subway station, I said to Mi: "It's today! Can you believe it's today! Oh my God!" Day 1 passed by, the seminar was interesting and we met a lot of cool people and even ate some weird falafels for lunch, but uhm, it felt distinctly un-magical. I figured I would blame the weather.

Day 2 - more rain, worse this time. Lots of talk at the seminar about signs from our angels. Angels will give you signs if you ask for them you know. The key is asking - they're a polite bunch and tend not to butt in unless they're invited. Yeah, yeah, yeah, I see numbers all the time. 111, 222, 333 - I used to think it was so cool - all these signs from my angels a bazillion times a day when I never used to see them before. But surely, I could graduate to something beyond numbers on clocks, license plates and endless other random stuff, no? I wanted a bigger sign. You know, like a Virgin Mary in a taco.

I kept paying attention though. During the weekend, we did several group meditations, and the one that followed stirred some things up inside. The focus was to ask Archangel Michael, a powerful angel that helps us deal with change and facing fears, to help us release blocks that were keeping us from growing any further. There were big changes coming in our lives, all for our greatest good, assured Charles Virtue, and the angels would help us through them. As we sat there in silence, meditating, I started to get mad. (This seems to be a common thing for me when I meditate!) I tried to find one thing that I hadn't changed in my life in the past two years. All I could come up with was a set of dishes and the boombox I've had since I was 16. And now I'm supposed to change *again*? No. I was not prepared to change everything again and I didn't want to either.

At bedtime that night, I wrote the angels a note. It's kind of my thing, you know, with people, so I figured I'd give it a shot with the angels a while back and I quite like it. I'll spare you the word-for-word, but uhm, the first line was "Dear Angels: I am having some issues here." I went on to tell them that I wanted a better sign than just the incessant numbers so I'd know I was on the right path, that I was indeed supposed to be doing this course because I felt like they had forgotten about poor little old me. Yes, a note from my pouty Inner Child who wanted to know why the magician didn't show up at her party.

The next morning - day 3 and the last day of the seminar - I woke up in a foul mood. I'd gone to bed late and lost an extra hour's sleep due to the time change, and I was unpleasant. While in the shower, I had a chat with the angels. Hello?!! I was still waiting for my sign! What were they waiting for? I relaxed a little, but still frustrated, I asked that I at least be able to be in a decent mood so that I could make the most of the last day.

It didn't take them long to respond. As soon as I got out of the shower, I went to grab my hairdryer, and in the process, glanced out of the window and saw this:

"Alright angels," I thought, "point taken." So there it was, my big, non-numerical sign. Now I'm sure that this angel has been in that window for a few months now, but I hadn't really noticed it. (I'm usually busy looking through another window at a neighbour that drops rotten food and burning sheets of paper out of his window. This is what you do when you have no TV.) To me, the fact that I saw it at that precise moment was pretty big for me.

Now that the seminar that I'd put so much time, energy and hope into has come and gone, I've realized two of what I'm sure will be many more lessons to come from the experience.

1. What's wrong with everyday magic? The little things that make us smile, feel loved, special and happy - they are all I need if I let them be what they are: magic. What if the Virgin Mary appeared in a taco each day for me? Soon, I'd be saying "Yeah, Virgin Mary, so cool that you're here, but you know, if you brought along baby Jesus, that would be SO much more convincing."

2. I shouldn't put all of my hopes into other things outside of myself, hoping that they will bring me happiness. Only I can bring myself happiness. And I can take all the courses I want, but I can't just show up and expect them to transform me. It's what I do with the new knowledge that counts. I can just sit on it or I can use it. I can sit around and wait for a magic wand to be waved to miraculously create new and wonderful situations or I can go out there, get the ball rolling and create them myself.

They're two important messages for me, but I've been comforted a lot by the last one. My fears of yet even more change that came about during that meditation have mostly disappeared now. I realize that I've equated change with what has happened during my life over the past two years, but really, change can be anything. Change can be wonderful, and I find that it's never as hard as I think when it comes about while honoring myself, my beliefs, my loves and my passions. For me, my new wave of change includes building on that foundation that I have already laid. It's putting all of my knowledge to good use by helping others, by continuing to learn more, by growing, and enjoying each step. I'm happy to say that since Monday, I've been doing a good job of living in the moment and not stressing, and it's a wonderful feeling. I realize that I'm in a phase of research, gathering and growth, and that's what's important right now, so if I don't have time to workout, read emails or clean, it's not the end of the world. It's just my way of turning it into a better place.

Yummy in my vegan tummy

2010-03-16T13:23:00.008-04:00

I'm always amazed at what fun things find their way into my life. Big realizations, happy thoughts, awesome people and sometimes, even yummy soup just magically appear. Yes, even soup.

A few weeks back, I received an email asking if I would like to test out some vegan soups - Hall's Kitchen soups to be exact. At first I thought "me?", the girl with the blog about Cheerios? But after a minute, I could see why I was asked. I've become pretty picky about what I eat these days, and I was quick to go to the company's website to check out the ingredient list before I agreed. To my amazement, they were all "real" ingredients. No unpronounceable words, no modified anything, no dairy, no wheat, no gluten, and in fact, a lot of the ingredients were actually organic! And as I have come to realize over these last few months, these are rare, rare qualities to find in a store bought food item. Game on!

Even more amazing is that the soup showed up the very next day, delivered in person by a friendly guy. Also awesome was that it came during a busy time, so I had something tasty and nutritious to eat even if I didn't have time to make anything myself. And, uhm, I don't know if I get avid-recycler points for this or if it just makes me look cheap, but they came in two awesome Mason jars that are now living in my cupboard.

The two flavours I received were the Bangkok Curry, Coconut & Lime Soup and the Chick Pea, Tomato, Spinach & Lemon Soup, and both were super yummy, although I was partial to the Bangkok Curry since I'm on a curry and coconut kick these days.

But to tell you the truth, the part I enjoyed most was to see how much love and care had obviously been put into getting this product out there. It was someone's dream, something different and wholesome that they really believed in, and there it was, coming to life. Very tummy warming indeed.

Photo: A big thank you to the people at Hall's Kitchen for the delicious soup!

So me, the angels and a deck of cards are sitting in a conference room...

2010-03-15T15:07:00.012-04:00

Yes, you read my last post correctly - I spent my weekend in a 3 day conference all about angels. And since I'm sure some of you are wondering what this is all about (I wondered myself when I first came across it), let me explain a little bit.

Almost two years ago, I was visiting some wonderful friends of mine during a difficult time in my life. While I was there, I noticed my friend had these cards, each with some sort of a photo depicting an angel. She explained to me that they were angel cards; you ask a question to the angels (you know, the ones with the wings and feathers), shuffle the cards and then pick one. The message on the card helps answer your question. Throughout my visit, I played with them. I'd receive stunningly appropriate answers to my questions - but I thought that it was surely just luck. So I would try to "trick" the angels (it's ok, angels have a sense of humour about this stuff), but they just kept throwing the same cards back at me as if to say "Uhm, you just asked that, and we gave you the answer, and now you ask again? We haven't changed our minds on this you know - read the card again!" Needless to say, at the end of my visit, I had a new-found respect for the angels.

Fast-forward two months to a lonely night at my spotless, eerily quiet, staged-to-sell townhouse. Figuring that getting out of the house would help rid me of my sour mood, I headed off to Starbucks, but on impulse, decided to check my mail - something I neglected often! To my surprise, there was a little package waiting for me in there from the friend I'd recently visited. And, you guessed it, inside was a set of angel cards, just for me. They came at just the most absolute perfect moment, just as everything from the angels does!

I used my cards just about every day. I'd ask the angels about my house selling, where I should go live, which boys to date, where my life was headed - really, there was nothing too big or small to ask! And the wonderful thing about the angels? They always, always answer. Even about the boys!

Since then, I've introduced many friends and family to the angels. At first, I was a little shy about it - "So, I have these cards, and it sounds goofy..." but having observed the difference they make in people's lives, I don't feel silly at all anymore and frequently respond to people's concerns with "let's ask the angels!" Oh yes, I am a colorful friend to have around!

When my little niece Adelle passed away last November, the angels found an even more important place in my life. Instead of asking them what I should do, I had important things for them to do - like making sure she was ok up there (which of course she is), sending her love, hugs and kisses, helping her Mom and Dad... And they have never let me down.

In this blog, I talk a lot about intuition. I believe we all have it, but I also believe it's how we hear the angels' whispers for us - whether it's a gut feeling, a voice, a vision or an idea - any sort of nudge at all. And, you know what I do when I get a nudge...

When I suddenly had the urge to send Mi, my beautiful sister(in-law) and Mom to little Adelle, her own pack of angel cards, I didn't question it. The angels seemed to be very happy about this! Two weeks later, after a succession of little nudges, we both found ourselves enrolled for this angel seminar.

I know, I haven't explained about the seminar yet, so here goes. Angel cards are one way of getting answers from the angels, but there is so much more to it than that. The more you can listen, trust your intuition, set aside your doubts and believe, the more messages come through. You'll still get an appropriate message from the card itself, but you'll also be able to receive more little nudges to paint a clearer picture. And that's what the seminar was all about - pulling the cotton balls out of your ears, getting rid of junk and opening your heart to receiving all this wonderful love and guidance. And something else that I'm really excited about: sharing all of this with others. Now that I have completed this training, I am now a Certified Angel Practitioner! All of this means that I can do angel card readings for others, and I'm really excited about it!

There are still a few things to take care of to get this going more officially, but I'm really looking forward to this aspect of my new adventure. And I thought it would be a fun way to share this with you by playing a little game! If you think you might like me to ask the angels a question for you, just leave me a comment below. I'll draw one name, and I'll do an email reading with that person. I'll announce the winner on Friday, so make sure you post your comment by end of day Thursday if you want to play. And no, you don't need to post your question - I'll make arrangements with the winner to do this all privately, so no one has to know if you're asking about your purpose in life or a date with a boy!

Marvelous Monday

2010-03-08T20:33:00.008-05:00

I might as well have titled this post "Marvelous May Monday", because it's definitely been feeling like May in and around Toronto these days. Unusual? Yes, because it is in fact March and we're normally shivering our buns off this time of year, but the beautiful sunshine and warm temps couldn't help but bring a smile to my face this morning. Yes, the day, and the week, were off to a fantastic start!

Last week, I was in a bit of a rut - I thought I would have all this energy and time to do all kinds of things only to wake up with a case of the blahs a few days in a row and stay at home in my PJ's reading all day. Lazy? Yeah, I guess so. But did it feel nice? You bet. I didn't clean, I barely cooked, I avoided my computer and all type of human contact. Yes, I was a hermit, but I learned all sorts of wonderful things while I was in my cave. And once I finish reading all the wonderful books I started, I will let you know all about them!

This past weekend though, I did something that I thought was quite exciting - I went to take the Reiki Level II class. It was a sort of last-minute thing, but I had a big nudge telling me to do it, and well, you know. There too, I learned all sorts of cool things, and those things I got to practice today on actual people. Very nice people who served as my Reiki guinea pigs.

Last week, I had planned to practice my new found Reiki abilities on a few friends, but as the day got closer, I kept wanting to weasel out of it. The sucky side of me thought I would be too tired, that maybe I might want to stay in my PJ's and read all day again, that I would be "toooooo weeeeeeak..." to do it since I'm in the middle of a cleanse (I don't eat anything, just drink smoothies made of fruits, veggies, nuts etc.... So far so good). The sucky side (I am guessing that this is a ghost or an echo of the Mean Lady - seriously, I'm just running out of space for all these people in my head!) asked if we could just cancel all of this. It asked a few times, but each time, I came up with "NO!" I was surprised to be quite frank, it was making some pretty believable arguments, but there was just something too chickeny out about it, so I stuck to my guns.

This morning, I woke up to a beautiful day, went to visit my friends and did my first session. And then the next, and the next and the next. Then it all started to make sense. Here is what I realized:

#1. The reason I didn't want to come is because deep down, I worried that maybe I wouldn't be any good at it. HA! Gotcha chickeny sucky side! Gotcha alllllllll figured out!

#2. It's really quite interesting to do Reiki on people other than myself and I learn little things the whole time.

#3. It's easier to focus when I do Reiki on others too. My thoughts don't go all crazy and drift away like usual. Well, for the most part anyway! It seems that it's especially easy to focus on sending awesome energy to other people, and especially people like my fabulous friends! It makes me feel all warm and fuzzy just thinking about sending them a whole bunch of good vibes!
#4. I am totally not "toooooo weeeeeeak..." from my smoothie cleanse to do anything.

What was most amazing to me though was how much everyone enjoyed their session. Originally, I had been mostly interested on practicing on myself, but it's so great how Reiki can have such a positive effect on people, and I'm so very thankful that I was able to share it with my friends.

And since it is such a marvelous Monday, I want to share two more things with you.

#1. The March issue of Lightworker Magazine with my first article came out today! I'm so excited to see it out there in the "real" world, beyond the confines of my laptop.

#2. This isn't an official "secret", but I haven't told too many people about it yet. And I am SO, SO, SO SO SO excited for this. It might sound a little dorky or cuckoo, but my entire heart is into this like nothing ever before and I don't care who giggles - this weekend, I'm going to a seminar all about angels. I may write about it more this week if I have some time, but it's in 3 days now and I can't wait!

Ahhhh.... Goodnight Monday!

Photos, from top to bottom: Green smoothies: it's what's for (breakfast, lunch and) dinner!; Lightworker Magazine's March cover.

Wanted: Boredom

2010-03-03T22:08:00.009-05:00

I've always had the ability to pout, make the sad puppy dog face that would inevitably gain me my victim's pity and whatever it was I wanted. I stopped using it a few years ago, because, well, it just doesn't seem so me anymore (well, I'm not aware of it but any recent victims are encouraged to come forward). But in order for it to become the effective tool that it was, I had to perfect it, and as a child, it started off with moodiness and hissy fits - lovely, I know! This is the stage that my Inner Child is at - moodiness. Here is a brief sketch as the situation at hand as perceived by moi:

Inner Child: Sylvie, I don't wanna go to work anymore! Let's stay home, do yoga, cook, write and learn to meditate instead!

Sylvie: Uhmmm, ok.

Inner Child: Yay! So how come we're still at work?

Sylvie: Well, we have to give a few weeks notice. We can't just leave the nice people at work on a moment's notice.

Inner Child: Ok, I like them too. But can you buy a VitaMix soon and learn how to make chocolate smoothies in it for me though? Please, please, please?!!

Sylvie: You betcha.

Fast forward 4 weeks.

Sylvie: Hey, guess what Inner Child! We get to stay home now, exercise, cook, write and learn to meditate now, like, all the time!

Inner Child: I don't wanna.

Sylvie: What do you mean you don't wanna?

Inner Child: You're not the boss of me! I don't wanna right now!

Sylvie: Well, what do you want to do right now?

Inner Child: I dunnnnoooooooooooo! Leave me alone! And where's my chocolate smoothie?!!!

As of last Saturday, this was the situation. Not wanting to be the Mean Hockey Mom, I decided to back off, and wondered if maybe, I should just get my kid off of chocolate smoothies. After chatting with the Acadian about the situation though, he brought up a good point: if you force yourself to do fun things, they don't seem like so much fun anymore, and they become work. Hmmm... Very true.

So on Monday, I attempted to do nothing. Maybe if I just allowed myself to veg out, forget silly schedules I had made up for myself and maybe get all of the planning and stress out of my system, it would do me some good. And it did. That day, all I did was read and hang out in my PJ's. Feeling a wee bit lazy, I showered at about 10pm thinking that maybe, just maybe, the Acadian might be happy to come home to a fresh smelling girlfriend instead of the frumpy, unwashed girl he said goodbye to earlier that day when he left for work.

I evaluated the result of my little experiment at the end of the day and deemed it to be successful. I figure that if I wanted, I could even allow myself to do it tomorrow, and even the day after that, and the one after....

The next morning, before getting out of bed I wondered silently what I might like to do that day, with absolutely nothing being one of the possibilities. It seemed the Inner Child wanted to make tomato sauce. And so it was! The Inner Child has a very low-tolerance for laziness - this is good!

All of this is becoming a very interesting experiment in human behavior. My behavior to be exact. I love that I can re-write the rules whenever I want, but I hate that I have such a need for them. Maybe I need to go through this cycle of making, breaking and revising all the rules to finally break free from my addiction to structure. Can't I have spontaneous structure? Yes, that's what I'll ask Santa for this year. Just don't blame me if he revises the title of his "Naughty" list to "Nutty".

Flashdance: it's the new uniform

2010-02-26T10:43:00.011-05:00

I've never actually seen the movie Flashdance, but maybe I should seeing as on most days lately, I could pass as an extra judging by the way I'm dressed. Since I left my job, getting dressed is a whole new adventure!

When I was a teenager, there were two different wardrobes - one was my school uniform (the most heinous blue outfit you could ever force a 16-year-old girl to wear on a daily basis), and then there were the weekend clothes. Those were always more fun, but there were always much fewer of those since, you know, the weekend is only 2 days. When I finally graduated high-school, I was excited to be able to wear my weekend wardrobe any day of the week, but after getting into the workforce, it slowly morphed into more conservative, business-like outfits and even the weekend clothes started to get a little more boring. As my sister put it during my visit this week, I was a bit of a grandma!

A few years back, while I was well in the middle of my old age, the leggings trend started to emerge. A lot of people thought they were stupid, but I secretly kind of liked them. "But I'm too old for that" I would say when friends would tell me to just buy a pair already. Oh yes! 26 is just WAY too old for trendy clothes, don't you think? One day, I went to the store and bought a pair, but sadly, they lived in my sock drawer and I never wore them. I'd pull them out and try them on, only to shake my head and stick them back into the drawer.

Thankfully, when I turned 29, I started to grow out of my grandma-ness. I thought it was high time that I have a bit more fun since I had just been working my butt off since leaving home at 19. After losing some weight, I started to become more adventurous with my wardrobe choices, but still, I was hesitant about the leggings.

Last spring, I finally did it. I bought a pair of leggings. And I wore them. Can you imagine - a 30-year-old woman wearing leggings? How scandalous!!! I know, it's ridiculous to even blink an eye at the idea because there is nothing unusual about it, but I had made it into such a big thing in my head. I was afraid that people would think I was trying too hard, that I looked like a cougar-in-training, that I was just some fashion wannabe. Oh my God - I'm seriously having a hard time typing all this up and keeping a straight face! Needless to say that I don't feel like that anymore and I don't give a crap about what anyone thinks about my clothes, but it just goes to show how a short time ago, I let this crazy idea get in my way.

Leggings are now the champions of my wardrobe. I can wear them every day now, and I do, except for when I'm wearing my skinny jeans, which I bought last October. I had decided I had the "wrong" kind of legs for those too, but a half-hour of convincing by the Acadian and the saleswoman and a dozen pairs of jeans later, I caved and bought them. They are now my favorites.

So the big question today is - do I want to wear black leggings, white, gray or aqua (which I haven't found a use for yet but they were just too cool!). And should I pair them with a metallic or animal print tunic or maybe a cute little dress? These are all much better questions than "Am I too old to wear leggings?", don't you think?

I hope that you have found this whole ordeal, which lasted for about 4 years of my life, to be as ridiculous as I do now. But what I wish for most is that if you have "leggings" in your life, whether they are an actual article of clothing of just something you secretly want to do and stop yourself from with excuses that you will laugh at years later, that you make a little spot in your sock drawer and let them into your life. You never know - indulging one little whim might just be the beginning to the makeover you're looking for.

Photos, from top to bottom: Isn't that a lovely uniform?; You guessed it, today is gray leggings with the metallic tunic.

Reiki? Nope, it's not gardening.

2010-02-21T17:29:00.008-05:00

Well, I think I'm finally starting to get it. Things are different now, my little routine is broken and the silly stress is dissipating fast. Phew! Since Friday, I've been visiting with my family a few hours away from my home in Toronto, and I'm glad that I still have a few more days to enjoy with them. Although I haven't been worrying about too much and have just been enjoying myself, I did want to steal away for a few minutes to put in an update. I'm honestly not always sure why I want to write, if it's to relay my story to anyone out there or whether it's to document things for myself, but either way, I had a very cool Saturday that I wanted to write about.

A few years ago, I had briefly heard about Reiki. It was some energy thing, and that's as much as knew. But a few months ago, my sister-in-law Mi found it to be something really wonderful for her, and I got curious about it (have a look at her post and see how it helped her). I had a little nudge to go try it out for myself, and I did, but still, I wanted to know more. After the Universe gave me another push and even re-arranged my schedule to make it possible, I enrolled to take a Reiki Level 1 course with Mi, which took place yesterday.

What had initially attracted me was that you can practice it on yourself as well as others. Being able to send people awesome energy is great, but to send it to yourself is equally cool. So when the teacher told us that we would have to practice self-treatment for 21 consecutive days, I was really intrigued.

As we learned more about Reiki, and even had the chance to practice treating our fellow students, I was even more amazed by the whole thing. I believe really strongly that energy is a powerful thing, but to feel physical sensations of it at work through my own hands, well, that was just a whole other level of coolness. We were all so absorbed that the class ran over two hours longer than anticipated, and no one noticed!

When we did part, we were all reminded to practice on ourselves for the next three weeks. It was an exciting idea, but at the same time, it made me a little nervous: whenever I have to do something for a consecutive period of time, I always worry that something will fall through and I won't do it. And Reiki is all about hand positions on the body - would it be weird and awkward and uncomfortable to practice on myself? Would it be boring, like, ahem, meditation? (well, so far anyway)

This morning, I did my first self-treatment. I figured it would take me about 15 minutes, but to my surprise, over 30 minutes flew by, and I really quite enjoyed it. It was calming, peaceful and interesting and I'm looking forward to doing it every day. While meditating, it seems my mind is always so busy and it never wants to quiet, but with the Reiki, it seems so easy to just concentrate on the idea of wonderful energy, and a few times, I found myself in a really zenned out state. I'm even more excited about observing the results. There is so much good that can come from Reiki (so much that I won't get into it, but have a look here if you want to know more. And the booboos on my head feel WAY better since yesterday.), and I'm so grateful that I'll be able to experience the benefits of it, and through my own hands - more proof that we humans are truly amazing. I'm also looking forward to practicing on my guinea pig, the Acadian. As he would say, "Watchez-vous!" There is some intense energy coming your way mister! :-)

Morning Meditations

2010-02-18T17:46:00.004-05:00

So I haven't given up on the meditating yet. Last night, I was reading my meditation book, and I got to a part with mini-meditations. One of them said, that first thing in the morning, as soon as I wake up, I should tell myself "don't go back to sleep". Okay. The author knows me. So I read on. Then, you are supposed to pick something you are grateful for. There was a list of things like being able bodied, having a roof over your head, a job to go to ( I chuckled at that one) but the one I liked most was "something amazing might happen to me today". Yes! Something amazing could happen to me *any* day, and that's what makes it so wonderful. So I went with that.

First thing when I wake up, I tell myself - don't go back to sleep, something AMAZING could happen to you today Sylvie! What did I do? I went back to sleep. It was one of those half-sleeps though, and I kept waking up and feeling guilty I had not done the exercise. But I wasn't awake enough to be grateful about anything yet. Until I remembered that tomorrow, I'm heading north to visit my family for a whole week! Then, I was able to wake up a little bit more. But still, I went back to sleep for a few more minutes. Oh well - at least I remembered to *try* the meditation. Tomorrow is a new day!

And, most of all, tomorrow I'm on my way to Sudbury! I'm so excited - I haven't been able to visit for a whole week since I-don't-know-when! I'm also looking forward to the drive - it's 5 hours, and I've never done it all by myself since The Acadian is usually there to keep me company. But I think it will be fun - I have my iPod and I can sing out of key to all my favorite songs.

So today, I've been rushing around trying to get all sorts of things done before I go. I'm very happy to say though, that I did manage to suck it up, ignore the booboo on my head (although I'm still not brave enough to wash my hair. Shall I try for a record number of days?) and go to the gym. And I have to say, the human body is a wonderful thing. Each time I have a bit of a lapse at the gym, I worry that I'd have to go back a few steps since much of the progress I had made when I was last there would surely have faded away. This has been my longest absence ever (if you ignore the 29 years where I thought the gym was stupid and didn't go), and after 2 months I'm amazed to see that I can still run like hell and do pushups like a boy. It's so great to know that even if it takes your body a long time to make progress, once it does, it takes much longer for it to fade away.

Well, now it's time to run like hell again, but this time, to get to my cooking class!

Sick Day

2010-02-17T11:08:00.010-05:00

It's officially Day 2 of full-time free spiritedness and, well, I'm not sure if it's a success or not. Einh, let's be positive and go with success. So a little background: after a lovely weekend of doing absolutely nothing other than eating and watching movies, I woke up for Day 1 of my new journey. I already had an appointment - I was due at the doctor's for 11am to remove these funny little bumps from my head. I figured the rest of the day might be a write-off, but thanks to the local anaesthetic, I was cleaning, shopping, cooking until 10pm when my head started to get sore. After a night of not sleeping very well, I squashed all plans of going to the gym (when your nogan throbs when you bend over, best not to lug heavy weights around) and stayed in bed past 10am.

So I figure the success part comes in listening to my body, and my inner voice, both of which are saying "Ouch!". I even listened to the Inner Child and made a chocolate milkshake for breakfast, which thanks to my Vitamix, is surprisingly healthy: almond milk, carob powder, banana, flax oil, coconut, ice cubes and adzuki beans (hey, they were in the fridge, they were cold and they were brown) are all whipped into a nice frothy drink. I hate taking pills, but I figured that maybe, since my head has been sliced open (very small slices though) in three places, that some ibuprofen might just be in order today. I am unwashed, dressed in gym clothes (aren't you glad I haven't put up a photo of myself with this post?) my head is feeling sting-y, but I'm writing and I'm surprisingly thankful for the turn of events that have transformed today from a go-go-go day to what feels like a sick day.

Another success is that I'm writing and that yesterday, I wasn't. Part of me wanted to write yesterday, but it was the keener side that was looking at the list of stuff I was "supposed" to do now that I'm off. I was so exhausted that I couldn't possibly imagine what I would even write, and I told that side of me to take a hike. There is always tomorrow. I know, I know, you're supposed to "not leave 'til tomorrow what you can to do today", but I don't like that. I've lived like that for a long time, and really, it's not much fun. Instead, I just want to enjoy today, each day. And if there is something I like to do that I'm just trying to cram in, and it just doesn't sound like fun anymore, I won't do it. Well, I'll try to anyway.

So a little side note before I go back to my warm bed. I got a cool little package in the mail yesteday - mini-cards from Lightworker Magazine! I was so excited - they are super cute, with different designs on the back of each one. But best of all, on Day 1, they served as a reminder that there is a purpose to what I'm doing. That I can be many different things in this life, if only I step up to the plate. So many times, I've worried about knowing how to play the game, about not knowing the rules or not even knowing what the game was. If I've learned anything over time, it's that the most important part of the game is showing up. Some days, I feel like I'm showing up at an empty field, and I holler out "Helloooo? Universe I'm here... Where are you?" Sometimes it takes it a little while to answer, but I know that when someone else shows up, if I find a ball on the ground or end up on a bench watching another group play, it's all part of the game. When you start viewing objects, people and experiences in your path as equipment the Universe has sent your way to make you a great player instead of obstacles to knock you down, that's when the game starts to be a lot more fun. Today, the Universe would like me to sit on the bench. And that sounds just fine to me.

Good to the last drop

2010-02-12T19:51:00.005-05:00

I might be vegan, but I know a good chocolate milkshake when I find one (these days, they are, made with almond milk!) Another thing I know is how to move one once the last sip is gone. Sure, I've been guilty of sucking at the straw far too long on some occasions, making that loud sound parents tell their kids is rude, but overall, I think I'm getting better.

Today, I finished the milkshake that was my job. A big tall tasty one - I mean, I was there for five years - and I'm happy to say that it was good until the last drop. Although for these past few weeks, I've been thinking a lot about what lies ahead of me beyond my job, the reality of the situation really sunk in today, and it feels good.

My wonderful day started with a laugh. Here was my horoscope, thanks to my friend (he has no idea who I am), Mr. Phil Booth.

You have a clear sense of what you want to happen next in a crucial situation. And as it now stands, you may even have an inkling of what will happen. It won’t be long before you’re reading minds, but it may not be wise to give up your day job just yet. The fact that many factors still lie beyond the scope of your influence is adding an air of unpredictability to the proceedings. Venus, though, is guiding you well. Let things unfold naturally without too much conscious interference. You will be taken care of.

Other than the bit about quitting my day job, it was pretty good! After having a laugh over that, finding out I have a new "pet" (a cute little black mouse that sadly, will have to find a new home once the Acadian captures the "petite créature"), and finding a new blog that made my heart smile the widest of smiles, it was time to go in to the office for one last time as a worker (because I plan on visiting lots!). I felt very special when I found out that all of my co-workers had organized a vegan potluck. Vegan! They're the best! None of them are vegan, and some struggled to figure out what the heck to bring, but they managed and it was delicious! Best of all - there was a vegan chocolate cake, and not "chocolate cake" in quotation marks like so many vegan things. This was *real* chocolate cake and it was soooo good. And chocolate cake is my absolute favorite!

I was also surprised by so many kind words from people - some that I have worked alongside for the entire time I've been there, and some from new employees in other offices whom I have never met. Feeling all of this love really reminds me that there is oh-so-much of it to go around and that this big world really is a wonderful place.

Of course, I do leave with a bit of sadness - after all, this has been my world for so long, my constant through so many difficult, exciting, confusing and exhilarating times in my life and the learning ground for so many lessons in business, life, friendship, and love. But I find it better not to dwell on sadness and instead just hold on to the fond memories. For one, I don't believe that this is goodbye - when people become such an important part of your life, they don't just fall out of it because a situation changes. I choose to follow my new path, and I also choose to keep my lovely friends, so for me, it's a win-win. And secondly, and most important really: the last sip of the milkshake has been gulped down. If I stick around, I'd just be sucking at the straw, annoying the crap out of everyone!

And now, I sit at home, typing up the closing paragraphs of this most satisfying chapter. The Acadian has just walked through the door, and I can't help but grin while he talks about naming our new "pet" as he calls to it nearby the radiator where I last saw it this morning. Well, that is my cue - he and I are taking a break from the world this weekend and hiding in our version of a blanket fort (Yes. A blanket fort.) I wish you all a wonderful weekend, an even better Valentine's day, and many, many delicious chocolate milkshakes.

Photos: Goodbye to Nessie, the monster that guards Mr. Sparky's office; I've often joked that if at first glance, it seems I'm not at my desk, someone should check *under* the desk, just in case.

And like the mush in my Vitamix...

2010-02-11T19:15:00.000-05:00

So is this day in my life.
I know. What the heck is a Vitamix.

The Vitamix is a gift to myself. It's a happy v-day present, you know, happy vegan day! Ok, that's really corny, but that's how I've decided to look at it - a gift to myself that will help me along my new culinary journey. And now, this fancy blender/juicer/food processor is all mine for turning just about anything into mush. (Note to the guys out there - don't get your ladies a Vitamix for Valentines. Just sayin'.)

It came yesterday, and after watching the tutorial CD (yes, I'm one of the people who actually watch those and marvel at food turning into mush), I thought I would use it to make a chocolate smoothie to get my mind off the groans from the Mean Lady who thinks I have spent WAY too much money on this piece of kitchen equipment. I have learned that chocolate smoothies are a very effective weapon against the Mean Lady.

I've been talking to everyone about my Vitamix since I ordered it on Monday. "You can put a whole apple in there, core and all, and it will turn it to complete MUSH!" I must have said that 50 times by now. I haven't tried that yet, but I'm sure it's true. I'm also sure everyone is sick of hearing about it. So now I just think about it quietly. Of course it doesn't take long for my thoughts to jump over to other things. More aggressive things.

No matter how zen-ed out I feel these days, my iPod always manages to surprise me. When I listen to it on random, it's always the loudest, most aggressive songs that get me going. Like this morning, when it suddenly went from Jack Johnson to Rise Against, and the sound blaring out of my headphones startled the people around me. (sorry BTW) Loud and angry. And boy do I love it!

I don't understand why I connect so much to this kind of stuff; I've been feeling pretty peaceful these days. But when the music comes on, I just want to run. Run really, really hard and fast. And smash medicine balls into the ground. Ohhhhhhhhh that sounds SO GOOD! And then it hit me - I need to go back to the gym for my "normal" workouts.

But I'm also supposed to do yoga. And here's a little secret. I've never been a fan of yoga. I've always thought is was wussy. I've learned that it's not all about the workout but rather, the whole mind/body/spirit connection and I'm trying to enjoy that aspect of it, but the idea of doing it every day is daunting. The idea of going for a run and lifting some weights? Man, I can already feel the adrenaline waiting to rush through my veins.

These past few weeks, my brain has felt like mush in a Vitamix running on high. So many ideas, so much information and so much passion to power it all. Thoughts and good intentions have been swirling around at top speed as I've been trying to anticipate what my post-job life would be like. But on the day before I leave, it seems reality is starting to sink in. The mush in my head is starting to settle a little bit into a reasonably capable brain.
I realize that the Inner Child and I have been taken for a ride. I've wanted to provide her with structure so that she wouldn't be lost when all this freedom came about. On the way there, we unsuspectingly piled into a mini van where the Mean Lady was at the wheel. Seems she grew tired of the backyard, found herself a van and starting posing as a Hockey Mom. A Mean Hockey Mom. Instead of taking us to a few yoga classes with no pressure, she's hijacked the process by trying to cram them in wherever she could, looking into unlimited passes and timing meals to make sure there no digestive interference. (I know. C-R-A-Z-Y!) The Inner Child has been sniffling "I don't wanna go again today, I want to do something different." But the Mean Lady just gets angry, "You said you wanted to do yoga, you're gonna do yoga. What's wrong with the yoga now? I'll get mad if you change your mind after all I've been doing!".

Stop the van!!! Come on little one, we're getting out! I'm sorry I got us into this mess and into the grasp of the Mean Lady again. You don't have to go to yoga until you actually feel like it and you can go for a run and listen to loud music whenever you like. And then we'll drink chocolate smoothies.

Photos: That is me, and I am holding a 10 lb medicine ball that I caught as it knocked me to the ground. This is hooverball - like volleyball, but with more aggression. I like it!; Hmmm... perhaps I have been exhibiting Mean Hockey Mom behavior for a while now. Beating up on the mural at College subway station in Toronto.

Meeting the family

2010-02-09T21:04:00.013-05:00

I have some friends I'd like you to meet. It's a little weird though, the feeling in my stomach when I think about writing this. It's about the same feeling as when you've met someone special that you want to take home to meet your family. You know how you feel about the person, and what your family thinks won't change that, but still, you really hope they'll all make friends and get along.

My friends are the angels. Some of you might snicker when you read this, and that's ok. I used to snicker at the idea too. But whether I gave them the time of day or not, my special friends always stuck by my side, waiting for me to pay attention so they could work their magic.

I don't know what else to say today other than I really wanted you all to meet. I'd ask you to talk amongst yourselves, you know, and let this awkward moment progress naturally. But since I'm writing, my long pause isn't as obvious. And even if it was, I know that a few of you out there, hmmm, actually, probably more than a few of you, might not have snickered at me. You might have even lit up a little bit.

Whenever I want to tell people about my friends the angels, I always go through this same awkward dance. What I don't understand is why I feel like that about it. Because just about every time I have opened that little side of me to someone, it seems I end up finding another kindred spirit, another person who believes in friends with kind faces, caring smiles and beautiful wings. Some see them, some feel them, others hear them and some just know they are there. But there are a lot of them, and there are a lot of us who have a place for them in our hearts.

Our belief in angels isn't the only thing me and my kindred spirits have in common. Many of us are shy about letting others know. We're a little intimidated to have them "meet the family" and so we keep it to ourselves.

I normally don't call out to people to post comments or interact in any way with my blog (but it's always way super cool if you do!), but today, I'll try something a little bit different. It will be kind of like a game of "Knock, knock. Who's there?", but we don't have to come up with clever punch lines. Just knock on the door, I'll open, and you can introduce me to the friends that you were maybe a little too shy to bring home to the family. Behind the door, you'll find me, hanging out with my angels friends, and everyone else who decides to show up and bring their super-cool buds from the higher realm. It might feel awkward at first, but it will only take a second for us to realize we're all the same, and then we'll put on some music and dance. And maybe, I might even sing.

So please consider my invitation to knock at the door. You can do it here and type it out, or join me from the silent comfort of your lovely heart. Either way, there will be enough snacks for all of us.

Photos: Close your eyes and go to your happy place. What do you see? Was it nice? I'm sure it was. Enjoy it.

The "Good Enough" Vegan

2010-02-07T19:26:00.012-05:00

"Do you have an issue with honey? Sylvie - answer! Do you or don't you?" This is what the voice in my head in charge of taking my eating habits to the next level has been asking me for a couple of weeks now. The thing is that vegans don't eat honey. They don't eat anything that comes from animals, whether it comes from its flesh, its milk, its poop (ever hear of Kopi Luwak?)... You get the point. And honey is in the category of something that comes from an animal. A little wee bee animal.

Today, I was so very lucky to find myself in a super awesome workshop held by Meghan Telpner, a very cool Nutritionist/Holistic Lifestyle Consultant (and she has the BEST blog - check out Making Love in the Kitchen!) She was showing me and a group of 10 others how to get ourselves organized to prepare healthy food, and as she was making one of the yummy dishes we ate during the afternoon, she asked "Who here is vegan?" and I, after thinking for a split second, piped up and said "I am!". She was just about to put some honey in with the other ingredients and then I realized why she was asking. It seems I had made my decision - I'm cool with honey, and I told her so.

On the way home, I thought about this and the reasons I decided to turn to veganism in the first place. Here is the Coles Notes (which are like Cliff Notes for Canadians!) version: I've been trying to eat healthier over the years, I have sensitivities to wheat and dairy, and, the biggest factor of all - I got a nudge from the Universe on it. There are a lot of textbook reasons to do it, to not do it, but for me, it comes down to the fact that I think that this type of lifestyle will make me healthier, happier and more receptive to things. What these "things" are, I'm not sure, but I have no doubt that the Universe will surprise me with some "thing" very interesting when I get there.

So there we go. If I'm doing this based on a gut feeling, and I feel like honey is ok, than so be it. My new blog friend Mary talked in a post last week about her "good enough lasagna" which was just fine by her. After rolling this situation around in my head for a while (careful to avoid the sleeping hamsters) I thought that maybe, I'm a "good enough vegan". I might not be following the textbook word for word, but it's just fine by me.

Now that I have this afternoon's workshop behind me, and another 6-class program coming up with Meghan in a few weeks, I'm feeling very inspired! I'm still using my new cookbook and now I'm even, get this - improvising. Scary, I know! But today, I made, in my humble opinion, the best-ever butternut squash soup ever! Now this is pretty important - never ever has "the best I've had in my life" anything come out a kitchen where I was the cook. But this was good! And lucky for me and the Acadian, there is lots leftover.

Another surprising thing that I wasn't expecting was how much non-vegans or non-vegetarians (let's just call you all meat-eaters, just for fun!) have been liking things that I have made. The Acadian has been cool with everything so far, and my friend Mr. Sparky even requested the recipe for the brownies I made last week. This is good! I was worried that no one would want to try anything and that people would never ever come visit me at home again, but this is a good sign!

But the biggest of all miracles - I'm off the coffee! It seems a nudge is all it took. Other times in my life where I tried to stop for logical reasons - like when I was trying to get pregnant in what seems like a past life, or when I did a food sensitivity diet - I'm sorry to say, but I was just a miserable (and very grumpy) suck. But now, I'm all good! I still drink a cup of tea with some caffeine in the morning, but you know, that's good enough too! Thank you Nudge Therapy!

Photos, from top to bottom: Me - cooking!!!; On the top 10 list of my proudest creations ever - butternut squash soup!

Hamsters: it's time to cuddle, and that's an order

2010-02-06T11:51:00.009-05:00

Oh boy oh boy oh boy! Ladies and gentlemen, do I have a treat for you today! You see, these past few days, it's been hamster racing time in my head and the little wheels have been spinning and spinning and spinning and... You get the picture.

I talk a lot about fear and overcoming it, but the thing about fear is that as soon as you walk past one, there is another around the next corner. But that's ok, 'cause it allows for unlimited notches on your belt, and who doesn't like a crazy notched up belt?

The latest fear - ok, here is what the craziest of the crazy part of my brain has come up with: there is just not enough time. Oh yes, I know, we all feel like that at some point or another, but my brain is starting to freak out the rest of my body, including my lungs and heart all start to work a little harder when this thought pops up. Then, the rational side of me kicks in: "Uhm, Sylvie - you just quit your job. I don't know if you realize that this gives you as much time as a person could possibly have in day all to yourself, unless of course you want to cut down on sleep, which I really don't recommend." And then the crazy part starts to wonder "But how much sleep do I really need anyways...". I'm just so glad that I have the ability to zoom out and watch the discussion going on in my head. And people wonder why I don't see the need to have a T.V.!

So in an attempt to make myself feel better and also to bring you all up to speed (since there are little hamsters up there who are quite upset that I'm not getting my little stories out quickly enough. Is there such a thing as hamster-nip?), here is the to-do list of Sylvie, the soon to be full-time Freelance Purpose Finder. (Really, unemployed is just so lack-lustre. I even filled out my occupation on a form this week as "Freelancer". I like it.)

Week 1: First order of business - I am supposed to relax. There are no plans. It kicks off with long-weekend (here in Ontario and for much of Canada) and I'm going to relax with my sweetie. We are building ourselves a fort in our apartment and will hide in it and play video games all weekend. And I'm not even joking. The rest of the week is up to me. Strangely, the hamsters are pretty ok with this.

Week 2: I'm going to spend time with my family in Sudbury. And not just "some time", but a WHOLE WEEK, which I'm very excited about. I'm also taking a Reiki class while I'm up there, and my secret (or not-so-secret anymore) amusement will come from watching my Mom & Dad try to understand what veganism is all about. Even the hamsters find this a little funny.

Week 3: At this point, I'm thinking week 3 must be Chinese for "hamsters, ready, set, GO!!!" because this is where it starts to get stressful. What will I do all day? Well, I want to do yoga, every day. And I want to write, that's way important too. And cook - yes for sure. I need to feed myself all sorts of lovely healthy things and I'm actually really enjoying cooking now too (come see, come see!). But I like to read, so I need to make time for that too. And I want to learn to meditate. (ha! guess why?!) I suppose I should wash myself too - yes, that would be a good idea. And I should do all of this before the Acadian comes home, because I want to spend time with him too. But maybe he wants time to himself? What activity should I partake in then? And the dishes, when will those get done, and going for runs when the weather gets nice and I have to Tweet every once in a while too, don't I... STOP!!!!!!! Hamsters, please, please, stop. I don't even understand why you love those little wheels so much! Can't you just climb out of those things and cuddle together for a bit? Please - just go cuddle. Thank you.

I actually got the hamsters to go for a little nap during yoga this morning at 9am (so proud of myself for a) getting up on a Saturday and b) going back to yoga). This was Kundalini yoga, which is much more meditation than workout, and I think I needed it. While the little buggers caught some zzz's, this lovely little though breezed into my head with one of my deep breaths: "Do yoga and cook everyday. Fill the rest of it with whatever you like." Thank you lovely thought. I will put you on a high, high shelf far away from the hamster wheel so that no one chews on you.

Bus stop stories

2010-02-05T11:22:00.000-05:00

During my college years when I first moved from my small town to the big city of Toronto, I had an experience on the public transit system that I will never forget. Well, there have been many, but this one stands out!

As a kid, my Mom warned me repeatedly (again, I would find a stronger word than "repeatedly" but I can't think of one) to stay away from weirdos. I found it hard to do, since I am a bit of a weirdo myself and quite like my own company. But that time, the weirdo was not me. Or maybe it was...

So on that day, I boarded the bus and found myself a seat waaaay at the back. As people piled onto the bus, we all noticed a commotion at the front. There was a woman yelling at the top of her lungs "DON'T LOOK AT MEEEEE!!!!!". Uh oh. Weirdo alert.

And so I sat quietly complying and making sure not to look at her. I started to get nervous when she too found a seat waaaay at the back of the bus, and told everyone yet again, to not look at her. I made sure to heed my mother's warnings and I averted my eyes!

But then, it got even worse. She pointed me out and yelled "Look at that girl! She's NOT looking at me! Do like her!", at which point, the attention of everyone on the bus shifted over to me. What was I supposed to do? Should I look at her, now that she had acknowledged me? But then I might make her mad. Oh boy oh boy oh boy. So I kept looking at my shoes and after what seemed like the longest 3 minutes of my life, she got off the bus and random people began asking how on earth I had managed to not look at her after all of that. So it's a toss up - maybe she was the weirdo, but it could have been me. Ah. Fun times.

All of this to say, that today I'm feeling like I'm the weirdo. I might not be screaming on buses but I'm really not a morning person, and sometimes, I wish I could wear a sign that says "DON'T TALK TO MEEEEEEE!!!!" But I don't. I don't enjoy my bad mood, and I really don't want to do anything to encourage it. Weird as I may be, I see no need to escalate the matter. So instead, I just sit quietly in my little cubbie, telling the bad mood to get back on the bus to where it came from. Sometimes it's a little stubborn, but in the end, it always listens. And while I wait for it to pack its bags and go, it's been quite entertaining to tell you my bus story.

Photos from top to bottom - weird stuff I've done on a bus: The Acadian and I putting the "oo" in Bloor station; Subway dancing - this was really fun - have a look at the video below!

Squeal 'til the cows come home!

2010-02-04T12:30:00.000-05:00

Ever hear one of those rooster alarm clocks that crows to wake you up in the morning? Well yesterday morning, the Acadian had a piggy alarm clock, and it woke him up with girly girl squeals! Because he's so wonderful, this didn't bother him, and it's also the reason I had to wake him up to share some super-awesome-exciting-fabulous news: I'm gonna write for an online magazine!!!! EeeeeeeeEEEeee!

I've always loved magazines, and in hindsight, my Mom might have been able to buy me a car with all the money she gave me over the years to buy copies of 17, YM, Teen... In our early 20's, KV and I even used to even daydream about launching our magazine - I don't really remember what it was about, but I know it was cool. Imagine how excited I was a few years later to get a job working for a company that publishes a travel magazine, which is the job I'm at until next Friday. Funny thing tough, I never dreamed of or had any desire to write for it. I handled the printing, production and even did some copy-editing a couple of times, but nope, I didn't need to write and it worked out just great like that.

Then came along my friend Milkybeer (whom I met at that job) who dared me last year to start a blog. And I did. Blogs involve writing. And I realized that. But the fun thing about blogs is that you can choose the topic each day, and that, well that was verrrrry interrrresting. At first, I wrote once or twice a week, but my life was getting too busy for my new "hobby", and as much as I felt like writing a quirky little story coming straight from my heart, there were dishes, the gym, groceries - all stuff that was more important, right?

So fast-forward to now, where I have decided to only do things that come from my heart. One thing I do is tweet. (I know, I know - I squeal, I tweet - I'm a whole frickin' barnyard, I know. I also do the French cow - they Meuh, not Moo. It's true.) If you are not on Twitter, don't worry, I won't try to convince you to do it, but it really is quite a bit of fun. When you sign up, you "follow" other people, but the cool thing is, you don't need to actually know them. It's the unspoken rule of Twitter. Follow people you think are cool, jump into conversations just for kicks and make new friends. You also never know what you will find in the big nest of tweets.

That's how I found Lightworker Magazine. It's an online mag, and they launched their very first issue in January. I loved their articles! They were inspiring and interesting and made me feel like there were other people out there who saw the world just like me! So what's it all about? They describe their purpose as striving to "inspire, educate and challenge lightworkers – people like you and I who are committed to living in a positive way and feel a deep drive and motivation to help make the world a better place – all around the globe." How wonderful!

A few weeks after I had originally discovered it, I got a little nudge telling me to email the editor. And, well, you know what happens when I get a nudge... So I sent an email to tell her how I felt about her great magazine, and to let her know that if she ever thought it might be nice to have an article from someone like me, I would definitely be up for it.

When I hit send, I heard a muffled groan from the Mean Lady who's still out in the backyard (Where she has been for about a month now. Darn, she must be cold!) "You're just one little person with a blog full of Cheerios, nobody wants to hear from you!". I was so proud of me and the Inner Child for ignoring her. "Well it's TOO late!" we said. And after all, if you would like to do something but instead, just sit there quietly, wishing it to happen, well, I can't say for sure that it won't, but geez, do yourself a favor, save your sanity and just tell people about it! You'd be surprised at who might just be able to help you. Wow. I can't believe that came out of me. That was a lesson that took me soooo long to learn, and boy, am I ever glad did.

So I'm in! I'M IN!!! I'm going to be writing a monthly feature (monthly!) for Lightworker Magazine! EEEeeeeeeeeee! (that is the sound happy French piggies make). So stay tuned for more random exciting news about my awesome unscripted adventure, and my upcoming children's CD - "Barnyard Animal Sounds with Sylvie the French Cow'. And yes, that last part is a joke. For now.

Bring on the chaos!

2010-02-03T19:44:00.000-05:00

I'm going to shake things up here a little bit. Ever have something exciting happen to you in the morning (that story will come soon, promise!), and afterwards, you just go about your day in a happy little daze, getting stuff done, but not really in it's usual order? (Don't worry, I remembered to brush my teeth and take a shower, although I am smelling a bit like the vegan Mulligatawny soup I made - I'm so proud! Come see!) Wow - I'm getting off track. So on the topic of disorganization - I had one of those mornings today, and I really liked it! It's fun to break things up, stray from the "logical" order and just take things as they come.

So lately, a lot of stuff has been coming in the form of ideas to write about. Sometimes they're scribbled notes, other times half-written posts - but anyhow, I have a lot of stuff on the go and I'm just going to start posting some of it up, even if it's not really in the order it happened. It just feels a little odd for me - in some ways, I want to post things that I'm actually "living" right this second, so when I see an older, half started post, I think "oh, but I'm over that now". But at the same time, I get sad for my little idea that was so important that I started quickly typing it all out without having time to finish. After all, I am one of those "idea people", so I've got to look out for my own.

Photo: Shaking things up with a "good enough" cartwheel.

How to zen-ify your child. Or not.

2010-02-01T17:30:00.003-05:00

So we're having a little disagreement here, me and the Inner Child. We' were getting along oh-so fabulously until we had an "incident" on Saturday. See, a while back, we both agreed that it could be fun to do yoga. There's a hot yoga studio up the street, and it would be warm and relaxing. And so a few weeks ago, we tried it out, and we really liked it! It was so zen, the instructor had the most soothing voice, and we made it through the whole thing in 37 degrees Celcius. We were so proud of us!

Fast forward to Saturday. We went again. We got there early, put down our mat and just relaxed and enjoyed the heat and peacefulness. But then, the Inner Child got a bit antsy. What was all that rustling? "Don't worry," I told her, "Just keep relaxing." Finally we opened our eyes to look around - it was getting pretty crowded, and then I saw the man next to me gesturing for me to move over, even closer to the person next to me who was already only a foot and a half away. "It's ok" I reassured her, it's just a busy day here.

But the people kept coming, and when the instructor asked us all to move closer together, since "a hand of space is all you need" in between you and the next person, the Inner Child started to get angry. I was having a hard time calming her down, as I don't like crowded spaces myself. I do have a personal space bubble, and I have built it in such a way that it spans quite a bit futher than "a hand away".

The class started, and I kept trying to keep my concentration, but inside, the Inner Child was having a hissy fit. Nothing could calm her down. And then things got worse. The woman next to us repeatedly swooped her hands into the air - normally all cool in yoga - but a little startling when she misses your face by a fraction of an inch each time. And as much as the instructor told us that "it's ok if your hand touches your neighbour's", the Inner Child and I both knew that to us, it really wasn't. And then, the worst thing - while everyone was lying on their backs, we were intructed to pull one knee to our chest. As we heard the collective slap of 128 hands grabbing at a knee (and hopefully their own, but in such close quarters, it really is hard to tell), we also felt a smattering of random stranger sweat spray all over us. It was gross. And even I couldn't convince the Inner Child that it was all ok.

So we just lay there for the rest of the class, fuming at what an awful experience it was and refusing to do the rest of the poses. Although the Inner Child remained very angry, I eventually started to calm down a little bit. I wondered why I was so angry. Was it really the lack of space, the annoying instructor and the poor instructions that left me clueless for many of the poses? Or was the yoga just doing what it was supposed to - putting me in touch with my emotions to go deeper within myself? It could very well be a bit of both.

Since then, I have decided that I will keep working at the yoga. It's one of the things I have a very strong gut instinct about, and I really feel I need to do it. But the Inner Child isn't as easily convinced. She's stomping her feet and sulking. I'm not sure if I should try to find her a new yoga studio or go back to this one at a less busy time (which they could not really assure me ever happens). I feel bad that I put her through that, but at the same time, I know we need to do it. I just hope we both find our zen soon.

PS. So totally un-yoga related, I have been doing some more cooking à-la-vegan (or as close to it as I can manage right now). If you're curious to see what I've been feeding myself lately, or are just puzzled by the whole thing, feel free to have a look.

What happens when one person isn't afraid

2010-01-28T15:07:00.025-05:00

I often wonder to myself what my blog is about. I especially wondered just before I decided to leave my job. I had this overwhelming urge to go write, but what was it all about? I've realized that I do have a theme.

Have you ever wondered what a person would do if they weren't afraid? I have. And in my daydreams, that person is me.

Although I'd like to say that I'm not afraid of anything, that would be a big load of crap. I'm afraid of a lot of things; some are new, and others have been hanging around since I was a kid. And I think it sucks.

I've realized that there is one thing that doesn't suck though, and it's a heck of a lot tougher than fear. And that's me. I haven't found a way to make fear go away yet, but I've been working on ways to summon up the courage to walk right past it and to summon up even more to keep me from looking back.

And that's what my blog is about. About fear and about me. And the courage to be me. To not let fear stop me from shining through, to keep me from being honest with the world, with you but most of all, with myself. It's a fight that I'll win battle by battle, and that I know with every fibre of my being. It's a type of knowing that I've never experienced before. It's powerful, it's huge but most of all, it's real.

So in my daydreams, I'll keep wondering what I might do if I wasn't afraid. And when I wake, I will do each of those things, no matter how much fear stands in my way.

Each battle is for just one person, but the war is not mine alone. Others fight alongside with me, others wait for far too long. I might be just one person, but I'm glad that person is my own.

Photos - Me being me. From top to bottom: Me, munching and making a mess; Me, proposing to my beautiful little friend with a spectacular candy ring; Me, in disguise, upside-down; Me, in love.

My "dream" house

2010-01-25T21:09:00.022-05:00

I worry about losing my house. It's a cause for concern, especially considering that I don't own a house. Not anymore.

For a long time, owning a house was my biggest dream. Once I had finished paying my student debt, I just kept right on living my very modest lifestyle. I wasn't used to fancy stuff, so why start now? Although in retrospect, it makes me sad to think of all the things that I deprived myself of to save all of my pennies - like new clothes, outings, vacations, even brand-name toilet paper - at that time, each saved dollar got me closer to my dream.

It seems I was quite good at saving, and by the age of 25, I was the proud owner of an 800 square foot condo that cost more than a 3 bedroom house in my hometown. But it still wasn't a house. A few years later, I moved to a townhome that I had anticipated would be my home for a good ten years. A mere 10 months later, it was on the market again, and once it was sold, my portion of the dream was handed over to me in the form of a cheque.

I've been very hesitant about spending that money. At first, I bought a few things for me to enjoy, nothing too frivolous - a laptop, a desperately needed new wardrobe since all of my clothes were now a few sizes too large. I furnished my new apartment, took a few classes at Second City so that I could misbehave and say dirty words in front of strangers. But I was always careful not to spend too much of it. It was, after all, the house money.

"Was" is the key word though, and it's been proving to be quite troublesome for me. The house "was" my dream, and it's not anymore, but a little part of my heart is still holding on to it. Although I would love to have a house again someday, that time isn't now, and my gut certainly doesn't hesitate to let me know this. Yet in a hidden corner of my brain, there is a thought that lingers and its job is to think that if this money is used up, the dream of a house will also be spent.

Today little blog, I'm so very thankful that through you, I can release this dream back into the Universe. It's left me many blessings; they're like good dream-karma with endless amounts of energy to put towards my heart's new desires. But before you can take in anything new, you first have to make space to welcome it. And let's face it, a vacant house with a yard overgrown with fear and old attachments isn't the most inviting of places. So come on over new dreams, the previous guest has now come and left. Make yourself at home - it might be a little messy, but please know that at the very least, my heart will always be in the right place.

PS: As you can see, there is no photo today. But, I was very brave and decided to cook two things from my new vegan cookbook. If you'd like to see, come have a look - since me trying to cook is quite unheard of, I've decided to document. WARNING: this is not food porn. It's more like a low-budget documentary.

My pile of miracles

2010-01-23T20:10:00.016-05:00

I almost feel bad using the words "pile" and "miracle" in the same sentence. I'd love to keep them in a curio cabinet, or maybe a funky shelf from IKEA, but they just come at me so fast that I can't store them neatly like that. No matter where I put them though, their magic never fades.

When I follow my gut, the miracles come along at a steady pace: they're laid out for me to see, on a trail like doggy treats to reassure me I'm on the right path. And today I was just where I should be.

Cup of coffee in hand, I started the day off reading Mi's latest blog post, all about coincidences, or should I say lack-thereof. The Universe had set the theme for the day.

As I mentally planned out my day, I felt a little tug from my gut - it wanted to go to the bookstore, not Costco. I couldn't say that I blamed it so I let it lead the way. On a whim, I strung up some stones I'd been meaning to make a bracelet with for a few weeks and then set off on my excursion. Once off the subway, I took a few wrong turns, but along the way, I found a tiny little store that sold gemstone jewellery - you know, the kind that looks more like rocks than perfectly cut stones. I have a thing (ahem, obsession) with rocks, so after squishing my nose against the window for a few minutes, I wandered in. It was a fun little pit-stop, and just as I was leaving, I spotted the perfect pair of earrings to match the bracelet I'd just made. They are Tiger's Eye - not horribly expensive (these were $15) but not super common earrings to say the least. Not only do I find Tiger's Eye pretty, but it also symbolizes bravery, and I often wear one around my neck on days where I need all the courage I can get.

Thrilled with my find, I make my way to the bookstore, all the while realizing what a happy little miracle I'd just been a part of. But it's time to get down to business - I'm here to find a book on - are you ready? Vegan cooking. I kid you not. My gut (no pun intended but I guess you can take it any way you want) thinks I should give vegan cooking a shot, so, well, you know what I'm doing! I'm no cook though, and this is apparently obvious to the nice woman who asks if she can help me. "Yes!" I tell her, and she quickly leads me over to a section all about vegan cooking and recommends a great book that I end up buying. An no, it's not Living Vegan for Dummies, which was one of the options on the shelf.

Then, there was another miracle! The Acadian won a Magic Bullet at his company Christmas party (hmmm... now that I think of it, that was a miracle too!), and I've been making LOTS of smoothies with it. Don't talk to me about chopping things with it though, that just gives me an inferiority complex. I want to try new smoothies now, but the idea of putting random things into this magical little blender and then drinking them frightens me a little, and I had been meaning to find some actual recipes. And then, I saw it, staring up at me while I rode down the escalator on my way to the cash: the book I needed, with LOTS of pictures (who doesn't love pictures of mush!) ON SALE!

Coincidences? I could say so. But why? And make today just a regular, ordinary day instead of one filled with miracles and magic? I'll take the miracles. And I'll take their message. Today, they said "Thank you for being brave Sylvie and trying the new things we've been nudging you towards. You'll need these books to make it happen, and some earrings to keep you brave and pretty along the way." Thank you Universe! That all sounds good to me!

No, I'm not schizophrenic

2010-01-22T16:54:00.013-05:00

But I do hear voices. How many? So far, I'm sure I've heard three. Today, I'll tell you about the first two. The third is a topic for another day.

My favorite voice is the Inner Child. We get along well and we have tonnes in common. Her age changes all the time - we spent last year at 13 and right now, we think 8 is so cool! I'm not sure if it's charming or disturbing that we're so close despite our "real" age difference, but I don't care 'cause she's my best friend in the whole wide world.

Then there's the Mean Lady. Don't even ask me how she got in there! She seems to have a nose for finding fun, and when she does, she squishes it like a bug. And she's bossy. Obnoxious. She's mean and scary. It explains why it took us so long to work up the nerve to do something about her.

The thing about the Inner Child is that she's a little shy. She comes out of her shell when she thinks it's safe, but with the Mean Lady hanging around, she gets a little nervous and hides in her blanket fort like kids do on a rainy day. And when the Mean Lady yell right at her, she'll disappear for long, long stretches.

I finally got up the nerve to stand up for my little friend. I realized one day that there was no one to speak up for my helpless Inner Child, and if I didn't step up to the plate, I feared she might run away for good.

So the next time we played and the Mean Lady told us to quiet down and quit our silly games, I talked back. "Oh yeah? Why do you want us to stop?" And the Mean Lady told us how we were just wasting time, how our games weren't practical or leading us anywhere in life. "But we think it's fun!" I said. "Yeah, well fun doesn't clean the house or pay the bills!" she snarled back. We kept going back and forth, the first real argument that we'd ever had. I'd never spoken back - I had just let her make her arguments all these years and there had never been room for those of the Inner Child. As I argued back on the little one's behalf, I couldn't help but take the cause to heart - I felt it, she was right! And when I yelled out "Well we don't care what people think, if we have a lot of money or if there's dishes in the sink - we want to be happy and everything you ever say makes us sad!", that did it. She couldn't argue with our desire for happiness - she wanted it too but and no matter where she would look she never seemed to find it. Furious and defeated, she stormed out into the back yard. And that's when we did it. We locked the door.

Photos, from top to bottom: the little one made me do it; ditto - we think puddles are fun; ok, *I* drank the wine, but she posed for the picture.

Never too old to be a chip off the block

2010-01-20T17:07:00.024-05:00

My Mom made me cry first thing this morning. It sounds awful, I know, but if you know me and my Mom, you know that we're cryers. This was a happy cry though, and it came about while reading the super touching comment she left on one of my posts.

Knowing that my Mom backs me up in all of my ventures is one of the most wonderful things in the world. And as a bonus, she says little things that make me respect and admire her more and more, and I don't really think she realizes it.

Along the way to my decision to "follow the voice" and leave my job, I had a lot of reasons that could have held me back. They actually did for a while too. Not enough this, too much that, what about this and don't forget that... There were many times, recently and all throughout my life, that I let this and that hold me back.

When I was called my Mom to tell her about about my bold new choice this weekend, we got to talking about classes she's taking in college, and she said "you know what they say - you're never too old to learn!" and I realized that Mom and I have more in common than I often realize. Those words are very true - you never are too old to learn, but a lot of people tell themselves they are, regardless of age. I know because I've done it myself too. But my Mom doesn't, and so she takes classes and she enjoys it. Why? Does she want to get a new job? A promotion? Be knowledgeable on a particular subject? Just have fun? Get an education tax credit? Get student card discounts? Feel proud for achieving a goal? Meet new friends? You would have to ask her to find out, but by simply deciding to follow her heart and take that course, she's opened the door to all of those things and more, where they would all have stayed shut if she'd gone against her gut.

So thank you Mom - for making me cry this morning, and for setting an example for me to look up to. I'll never be too old to learn from you.

Photo: No, that's not my big sister, it's my Mom! :-) xoxo

Why? Why not?

2010-01-19T20:19:00.015-05:00

I've been seeing a lot of interesting faces lately. The thing about quitting your job is that you have to tell people about it. I guess you could just stop showing up, but that's not really my style. Most people say something like "Oh really? Did you find another job?". The answer to that question is that no, I don't have another "job". Stuff to do? Yes. A paying gig? Nope. That's when I get the confused face.

I was making confused faces for a while too. In the shower. In my head. On the subway too, it seems, judging by the weird looks I would get from strangers.

You see, my job, which I am still at for a few more weeks, is very cool. I have been there for over 5 years and have made friends there - very good friends. I even had an actual office at one point, and I gave it to one of those friends. Yes, I have friends that mean *that* much to me. I got to work on cool and interesting projects and people would let me put my two cents in too. In my opinion, all those things make for a very good job.

When I was in high school trying to pick a field of study, one of the nuns had said that we would just know which direction to take, that we'd hear a voice and it would lead us down the right path. Maybe it was too much loud grunge rock making me deaf in the late 90's, but I heard no such voice. Besides, I would have probably mistaken it for the spirit of Kurt Cobain.

So I did the next best thing - I picked something I liked. Fashion marketing led to travel marketing, and I became "one of those idea people". A few years ago though, the voice finally came and I wasn't impressed with what it had to say. "This isn't the place for you." it said. "Oh yeah?" I'd reply, "so where should I go then?" The voice never answered with anything other than "Just leave". Uh, no. You don't leave a perfectly good job "just because". Or do you?

Still, the voice got louder, and louder and the feeling that it was in fact right just got stronger and stronger. There had been a sense of urgency to the voice lately: it's as if I had somewhere important I had to be, couldn't remember where it was, but knew it was coming up really soon.

By now, you must understand that I know the voice is right. It doesn't tell me where to go, but it gives me directions on how to get there. And I'm determined to show up.

Photo: Me, going bananas at work.

Goodbye Job & Sad Dog

2010-01-18T20:26:00.016-05:00

If I were a dog, I would have my tail between my legs right now while giving you my best, sad puppy-dog-look. I know that I said that I would write every day, and I didn't. I had wanted to. Something inside of me really, really wants me to do this, and a lot of other things every day, and I find myself torn between that and the typical "normal" things that people need to do. You know, like go to work.

So I've decided to take some pro-active measures. My whole life, I've been doing what I figured I was "supposed" to do. I went to school, started a career, got married, bought a house, even started planning a family. Along the way, I kept thinking that at some point, I would run into my passion, my purpose, my very reason for being on this earth which would, in my own way, help make it a better place. I just had to keep trotting along in my "normal" life, following my "normal" script and all of a sudden this extraordinary moment would come and DING, it would hit me. That's how it happens, no? No.

And so I started shaking the box of Cheerios. All the love and goodness that was inside stayed right there, but it started to shift. Things began changing quickly and situations that were not meant for me began to dissolve in the most peaceful of ways. So much happened so fast - my appearance changed dramatically, my marriage ended, my house was sold, and still, there I was. Still standing in the eye of what could seem like a hurricane. Smiling.

Surely, this had to be the end of a major transformation, and so, I started to rebuild. I fell in love. I made myself a home that I adored only to learn that it was even better than I could imagine when shared with another. I allowed myself to live. And I love it.

I realize now that there never was a storm, nor was there any danger. So I've decided to keep shaking that box of Cheerios, and keep going for the prize inside.

And so last Friday, I resigned from my job - a job I enjoyed for many years in a place that feels like a second home. Call it a gut feeling, following my heart or divine guidance - all I know is that each time I follow it, with my ego dragging behind kicking and screaming, it always leads me to happiness. Although I love writing here very much, there is so much more that I want to explore too, and I know that if I take that leap of faith, I'll find what it is I'm looking for.

So with an open heart and butterflies in my belly, I'm starting the most exciting type of adventure: the unscripted journey. There is so much that I want to tell you about it - the what's, the why's, the how's. I could be here all day. And soon, I'll be able to do just that, and so much more.

Photos, from top to bottom: If only I could be this cute, but at least I smell better - my Dad's "puppy" Sam; making my little mark at Parlee Beach in Moncton, NB.

I wonder...

2010-01-14T17:00:00.012-05:00

Have you ever noticed that sentences that start that way always lead to good things? Not the kind that goes "Pft! I wonder what possessed her to wear *that* outfit today!" but instead, the "Hmmm... I wonder...". You know, those that end with the three little dots that some of us call an ellipsis. Well, I don't call it that. I say "dot, dot, dot". It's more fun that way.

For me, those are the sentences that don't finish out loud. They finish in my imagination, where anything is possible. Imaginations are magic, really. Anything you want can exist there. But is it all a dream? A place that's never meant to exist for real and is just there to taunt you with things you can never really have? I don't think so! To me, my imagination is my lab. I can come up with some kooky idea, play with it, and just leave it safely behind until the next day where I can just pick it back up and marvel at my creation some more, finding new and exciting ways to improve it until it feels just right.

Once you have a great prototype though, it only makes sense to launch it. You could always just keep it in your imagination, but surely, something so wonderful must have its place in the real world where you and everyone else could benefit from it. It doesn't have to be a magical pogo-stick or a kitchen gadget that allows hands-free preparation of raw chicken (if it is though, let me know!). It could be a vision of yourself pursuing a craft, a pass time, a career - anything that makes those butterflies in your belly flutter around in that giggly way. So the next time your imagination tries to start working on something new, don't stop it. Don't say "that'll never fly", "yeah, in my dreams" or "this is useless". Many great creators in the world today could have said that about their projects, but they didn't. One thing I'm almost certain they all said though, was "I wonder..." And I'll be they all had fun once those words left their mouths too.

Photo: I wonder... what it's like to be a ballerina in an uncoordinated outfit on top of a huge boulder on an island in the French River? Now I know - it's a lot of fun!

I'm petitioning for full custody

2010-01-12T21:51:00.006-05:00

Ever borrow someone's children? I haven't, but I thought I'd ask. People tell me that when you do get to take someone else's kids for a while, it's a lot of fun. You get to do all the cool stuff with them, let them eat what they want, stay up late and have a good 'ol time. Then you send them back to their parents and they deal with the crankiness.

Since I'm not always the most mature cracker in the box (it is a box of animal crackers, and I am the giraffe. Nah nah - I get to pick first!) I thought maybe I could borrow my inner child for a while and see what it's like. Since she's potty trained (thanks Mom!) and isn't a picky eater, it didn't seem too intimidating.

I've been doing all sorts of things to spoil her - she needs to think I'm cool or she won't want to hang out with me. We've been doing whatever she wants, and I have to say that we've been having a lot of fun. So much so, that I have decided that I'm going to get full custody. As a matter of fact, it's already done. Yes, in the courts of my mind, custody battles are resolved much more swiftly than the outside world. I have also gotten a restraining order against the Mean Lady. She's still staring at me in disbelief with her mean, crooked face. Maybe in a few months when she softens up, we'll all go to a movie together.

Photo: In my world, we get as many bubbles in the bath as we want! In the real world, my Mom made sure I did too. AND I had SeaWees - Nah nah! :-) xoxo

Out of my mind

2010-01-11T18:03:00.007-05:00

I spend a lot of time in my own head. You would think that it would be nice, cozy and relaxing - why else would someone linger there for hours. But it's not! It's very noisy. There are thoughts whirling around, nailing me from every angle, they crash together and then I try to put them back where they belong. Maybe that explains why Stress has bought a chunk of property there...

You would think that in my 31 years, I would have figured this out sooner, but with all the hustle and bustle going on up there, I was too busy to even notice. But I have now, and I'm curious to know what it might be like in the 'ol nogan if it were quiet, or at least just a bit more of an organized debate.

And so, tonight, I am going to try and meditate. I'm very curious to see what this will be like. I've tried it before at home, and although it's been lovely to just lay quietly and listen to a nice man on a tape tell me to picture pretty things, it doesn't really do much for me. And I can REALLY hear the noise while I'm doing it. "I'm not really comfortable" "don't move though, you're supposed to stay still", "my nose is itchy, should I scratch it?", "Hee hee! That word sounded funny!", "Don't laugh - you're supposed to be quiet", "I wonder how much longer this is going to last", "I should have peed before I started" and on and on and on....

So the kicker about this evening, is that it's a guided meditation. With other people around me. And instead of tape of a man's voice, it will be a real person, a nice woman that I've spoken to on the phone. I feel like I'm taking a kid to kindergarten for the first time - you know, the day the parent gets to stay and observe for a while. I hope I behave.

Grrrrrr or Brrrrrr? It's all the same to me.

2010-01-10T20:50:00.014-05:00

It's Sunday night. I think that the worst part of the year might just be behind me. I know, we're only a week in, but for me, those first few days of the year are always the toughest.

When we're kids, we learn that animals are all created with special characteristics to help them survive in their native environments. Ducks have webbed feet that are moving at lightning speed under the water while the rest of their body is gliding calmly over the water. Chameleons change colours to blend in and hide from enemies and giraffes have long necks just to up the coolness factor of the jungle. Oh and something about leaves way up there in the trees. But if there is one animal whose super power I often envy during this season in Canada, it's the bear.

It's hard to love a season that requires an ensemble like this. But, I must say I did have a lot of fun that day. Maybe the retro sparkly purple helmet is infused with stay-warm super-powers.

Call is the winter blues, Seasonal Affective Disorder (SAD - ha, so cute eh? no.), or just plain unhappiness - each year, I try my very best to escape it. It feels like I'm a bear in a human being's body, and I don't understand why everyone else around me doesn't just have this same urge to sleep until spring comes around. Getting up in the morning is hard and the idea of having to talk to people once I do is even worse. I don't want to go out. I want to stay home, eat carbs, sleep and repeat. And during all this time, I just keep thinking about how long and horrible winter is. Lovely, isn't it?

It was a bit embarrassing to admit at first, but once I was willing to accept that each winter, I turned into a grump, it got a lot easier to find ways to fight it. For me, telling my friends and family that no, it's not them - it's me, really helped. They help keep me on track, and and they know where I live so if I avoid them for too long they'll come drag me out of my cave. Talking to my naturopath about it was a good step too, and I now take vitamin D supplements and fish oil capsules to help balance things out. Although exercising and limiting your carbs is very helpful, I have to say, they are the hardest to do. But every time I drag myself out to the gym or eat a salad for lunch in January, I give myself a pat on the back for the one little punch I threw back at the problem.

In my case, it usually kicks in early December and I start to freak out about all the holiday prep that my seasonally-altered mind thinks is just too stressful to tackle. Once Christmas comes and goes, I have a few days off to hibernate, but then I have to face the reality of January. Each year, I do what I can and see if maybe this winter can be a little better than the last. I knock on wood as I write this, but this has been the best one in a while. I'm not 100%, but I haven't turned into a hermit, and it gives me hope. I don't think I'll ever *love* winter, but some day soon, I will hold my ear muffed head up high and face it without a blanket over my head.

Nudge, nudge

2010-01-09T21:05:00.015-05:00

So today is Day 1 of my attempt to blog every day. I'm regretting it now; you know, the feeling you get when you're about to chicken out of something. Lucky for me, I'm getting good at releasing the chickens from the coop. Maybe it's the Acadian's disdain for eggs, or perhaps it's the result of years living in small spaces, but there is no room for chickens upstairs in my head. Not anymore, and not ever again.

Chasing chickens is hard work.

Now that the chickens are gone, and I have some peace and quiet - I can get to what I'm supposed to be doing: writing. And maybe I will start Day 1 by telling you why I promised to do this in the first place.

People believe in all sorts of things. Big, small, high, low, be it the good of God or the evil of raw chicken (note to self: find therapist to deal with chicken-related issues). I believe in all sorts of things too, and one of those things are nudges.

Sometimes, nudges are obvious, like when my brother used to poke me in church on Christmas Eve and whisper "Dad farted". I love those nudges! Other obvious nudges include those from strangers at the grocery store, who pull you out of your gossip-mag induced trance to tell you "hey, you're next at the cash".

But every once in a while, when you're really quiet (strangely, the same kind of quiet as in church or grocery store lineup la-la land) you might just get nudges of a different kind.

I only started noticing those subtle nudges a few years ago. At first, you don't realize it, but after you get a few little pokes in a row, and you actually follow them to see good things start happening, it makes you start to wonder.

Nudges to write have been coming steadily for over a year and a half. Not to become a novelist or some award-winning writer, but just to write stuff beyong lists and post-it notes. At first, I tried to ignore them. After all, I've always equated writing with school assignments, aka: work. The Universe is quite persistent though. It knows a good nudge fight when it sees one. Just like any time you declare "Oh no, I'm not ticklish", the person asking in the first place will just attack you to make sure you aren't lying. And so just as the Acadian found out when I tried that cheap line on him, the Universe soon saw that after enough prodding, I would squirm and give in, with a smile.

"Don't pay attention to what she's saying"

2010-01-08T14:05:00.007-05:00

The mean lady scolds my inner child sometimes. The little one's intentions are always pure and innocent, and she really does know what's best for *me* because she's way too young to know anything bad. But yet she seems to annoy the crap out of the mean lady sometimes, and I often hear the mean one groan things like "you really do get overexcited a lot" and "you really need to come out and live in the real world" and of course, "what could you possibly have to say right now that is so important?". The child quiets down when she hears this. She goes back to her room but sits there still thinking about all the fun stuff she'll do once the mean lady goes for a nap. Well, she just caught her snoozing... Today, the child says I'm going to write, every single day. In fact she wants me to promise, cross my heart! I worry that some days, the mean lady might not take her nap each afternoon, and that the inner child won't come here to play. Neither of us likes that thought. So inner child, here is my advice to us: get the mean lady hooked on a soap opera, ok? Or maybe reality TV? Then, we can have an hour of fun each day without her spying on us!

How I made friends with Christmas

2009-12-30T16:10:00.039-05:00

Sorry people, this one is long.

Most people I know like Christmas. Some also hate it. Then, there are those who absolutely LOVE it. I've mostly fallen into the "like" category, although over the past few years, I wasn't so hot on it myself. All the rushing around, gift-buying, bitching about the snow, bitching about the lack of snow, and then trying to decorate and be jolly in between it all. Somewhere along the line, Christmas started to become more of a chore than a joy, and this year, I decided that I'd try to make friends with the ho-ho-holiday once again.

I started to look forward to the holidays this year right around the time of my birthday in mid-November. In retrospect, it makes sense, but in the weeks preceding the holidays my new-found enthusiasm surprised even me, especially considering the circumstances.

Last month, our family suffered something big. We lost the very first "one of us".

Baby Adelle was due in early December. She was the first baby in our family, and we were all excited about her upcoming arrival, and also very curious. What would she be like and what would it be like to have another one of us?

We lost her so suddenly and it seemed that all chance of knowing her was gone. As time passes though, I’m amazed to see that I was wrong as I watch her influence and positive energy work its magic. There is no doubt in my mind that her short life has had a very important impact on our family. It's different for everyone, but for me, her presence has ushered in light and optimism, and I'm just as surprised as anyone to realize it. Where I expected sadness, she showed me how there is much beauty in things just the way they are.

My first lesson came the day of her funeral. Grieving is never a fun thing, but as we all sat there in sadness, one thing was impossible to ignore: Adelle's family loves her, and each other, in a way that just can't be described.

The strange thing happened when I left. Although most people figured our family would be absolutely dreading the holidays, I started looking forward to them. I wasn't trying to psych myself up for it or force myself to think positively. I was just looking forward to it, plain and simple. It was weird. But it would mean that our family would be together again, and that felt good to me.

And so started the part of Christmas that I have a love-hate relationship with: the pre-holiday prep. When I was a kid, the weeks leading up to Christmas were just as good as the big day itself. My Mom is one of those who LOVES Christmas and she always kept us busy with decorating, cookie baking, gingerbread-house making (I still offer no apologies for the gingerbread hooker or spaceship, Mom!) But let's face it - what makes that stuff so much fun is the company, not the candy, and it was never been the same when I tried to do it by myself. But this year, I had company.

I was taken by surprise when the Acadian asked if we could put up a tree for our first Christmas together in our little apartment. Last year, I had been relieved that the tree I owned was in storage 5 hours away and that I didn't have to decorate it. And, he wanted to make a popcorn garland too - my absolute fave! Hello? A man after my own heart? I knew there was a reason I'd given it to him already... And so we bought a majestic, pre-lit 3ft tree at Canadian Tire for $12.49.

It all still seemed like a lot of work though. And when my realism figured out how much time my enthusiasm would need for decorating, cookie-baking, shopping and everything else in between, it started to get stressed. Lucky for me though, I have a lot of those freaky Christmas-loving people as friends. Mr. Sparky (he knows who he is and is rolling his eyes at his nickname, so please feel free to snicker) is the most extreme I know, so when I told him about my Christmas fun vs. time dilemma, he was quick to give me a pep talk on how to make it all fit in. And when I asked KV if she'd be interested in baking some cookies with me, she showed up with dough, cookie cutters and the best food coloring ever! And so the Christmas preparations began, and were, most importantly, enjoyed. The Acadian and I strung our popcorn garland together and made some retro decorations. He even made us a custom tree-topper to reflect our personal style, played Christmas carols on his guitar and watched Christmas cartoons with me. With him, Christmas is fun, and it feels just like it should.

The day before we headed home though, I had a brief moment of panic. Was I insane to think our family would have a fun Christmas? The Acadian assured me we would, so I put the thought out of my head. After all, we're the most loving bunch of kooks you'll ever find. If Adelle had physically been with us, we would have just been our crazy selves. And since she'd be there in spirit, it seemed to make sense to let it all shine. And so, an entertaining, fun and love-filled Christmas began.

In between the Christmas-eve shopping with Dad, initiating him to sushi, building snowmen, riding snowmobiles, throwing snowballs, singing, playing game and a Wii marathon, there were moments where we each quietly wished that all of us had been there this year. But the laughs and the smiles would return. Adelle came into our lives for many reasons, but taking happiness away from us certainly wasn't one of them. She seemed to point out the love and joy to me, as though to show us why she'd chosen to become one of us in the first place.

Photos, from top to bottom: The house with the prettiest Christmas lights; Me and Mi breaking all sorts of sushi etiquette; My sister and her new found love; Our first Christmas tree; Getting psyched up for the snow; My sister showing Dad how to use a pair of chopsticks.

One carton short of a cow

2009-11-17T21:30:00.013-05:00

I was just updating my profile - it kind of seemed like it was time. First came the age part - I'm 31 now, and that's all cool. I'm also officially divorced, so that was a nice one to cross off the list. My favorite update was deleting the part about moving in to my first "own" place. I've been here for a while, and I now share it with the sweetest boy in the whole wide world.

And although the blog's namesake is Cheerios and I still love 'em and all, I'm not really feeling Cheery-ohy these days. Actually, I feel more like a bowl of soggy Cornflakes, sad and icky, and upset to learn that the box that kept it safe and dry for so long was guarded by a freakin rooster. Ok, that last part isn't true, I just hate that damn rooster. What can I say? I'm really not a morning person. And my childhood neighbours had roosters. I think I have repressed anxieties.

But anyways, despite all the good stuff in life, sometimes, you just end up with something you didn't order, and you have no choice but to eat it. It's in times like those that you realize what really makes the Cheerios so good, and that's the milk. Without it, the Cheerios are dry, and with it, you manage to wash those damn Cornflakes down. And if god forbid I ever switch from Cheerios to Fruit Loops or even Kashi, the milk doesn't care, and it's always glad to know that it's making my breaky a little better.

I never run out of milk. Sometimes I use up what's in the fridge, but there is always more at the store. Or a bus ride, phone call, email and even text message away. Some times we feel soggier than others, but you can't blame the milk. The more there is, the better, and it does its very best to help you get those Cornflakes down.

My special stash of Cheerios

2009-09-22T15:24:00.000-04:00

Well, what do you know - another season, another diet. This time though, my motives are much purer; I'm following a detox diet that is supposed to help remove toxins from my body and leave me feeling energized. And if I'm going to do this for three freakin' weeks, I really hope it does just that! It's not so bad as far as detox diets go - I'm actually allowed to eat stuff unlike some other diets that have you drinking water with cayenne pepper. But, needless to say, Cheerios are not on the list.

As I sat at my desk at the end of the day today, I laughed to myself when I realized that diet or not, my little O's of cheer had still found a way into my day. A while back, my sweetie the Acadian gave me a little gift. He called it The Stress Box. When I pulled it out of the gift bag, I realized it was a miniature, vintage Cheerios box. I kid you not! As I opened it up to see what was inside, he explained how he made it himself and filled it with oversized Cheerios. Each one of them had something different on the back that he knew would make me smile; photos of us, my family, Garth from Wayne's World (come on, Garth makes us all smile!) and even one to honor my hatred for Coldplay. He told me that whenever I felt stressed, I should give the box a good shake, open it up and pull out a Cheerio. I've found that it works well for stress, but also frustration, writer's block and even boredom. Best of all, it's a sweet reminder that I am indeed a very lucky girl.