life after it all

I know someone who insists that they are living life to the fullest and experiencing every day as it should be.  While I don’t doubt they are having a blast at life, they bring up their “way better life” every chance they get.

I have an awesome life.  Awesome job (if I tell you about it, I really may have to kill you), awesome boyfriend.  Amazing pay.  Great friends and the courage to say I did it and will do it again when I feel like it.

I do not have the courage to brag about my awesome life.  I do not have the courage to be a self centered brat who feels because they give life the finger they should tell everyone else they are lemmings.  I do what I do and I love it.

And I truly hate people who feel the need to remind me that they push life and cultures values just because they are there.  Sure, you may climb that mountain and I may write that report.  But in 10 years time when you look old from being in the sun way too much and your fat because you indulged too much, I will be able to sit back in my padded office chair planning my trip to some far off locale knowing I will look good in a bikini. 

Does that make sense?

Probably not.

‘Cause my mind is already in Mexico.

I’m leaving on a jet plane tomorrow.

The boyfriend and I are heading down to Mexico tomorrow for a week of ass prints in the sand.  I had glamorous ideas of heading to Tulum to see some ruins, but the closer I get to the big day, the more I just want to do nothing.  With a Corona in my hand.

We are staying at H10 Ocean Turquesa and flying with Air Transat.  The weather isn’t forecasting great weather, but the word on the street is every day has an hour of rain and then its good as gold again.  We choose now instead of later because its the boyfriends birthday (and in my head its also our 8 month anniversary - ok, not “in my head”, it really is).

I’ve not had a do nothing vacation before, and my insides are jumping with excitment.

See you in a week (with updates about my super secret agent job).

Its been a long time since I blogged last and I’m not even sure I will be blogging for much longer.  Life has changed dramtically in the past few weeks and my main motivation for blogging has drifted away.

Money.

I was offered a job last week(ish) as an Energy Security Analyst with Solicitor General.  I’ve only been a planner with Employment and Immigration for 2 months, but I had applied for the job as an analyst before I left Justice.  I went to the interview and in late August and felt like I had been anally raped by the interviewers.  I knew I wouldn’t get offered the job, but was glad to get the interview.

Then they called one of my references. 

Then they asked for a criminal record abstract.

Then my manager to be called.

Then they offered me the job.

I took it.  I had to.  The pay raise was unbelieveable and it was finally a job doing what I love more than chocolate - counter terrorism. 

So I am in the final week of work with Employment and Immigration.  Sad.  I like it here, even if the work is mildly boring.

So I no longer have a need to write paid posts, which truly was my main reason for blogging.  I’m not a natural writer.  I am a good writer, but not great.  And HAVING to write is painful for me.  So I may let this blog go by the way side.  But then again, I may not.  Whatever.

I’m also booked to go to Mexico with the boyfriend in 17 days.  We are heading just south of Cancun to Puerto Morelos.  All Inclusive ofcourse.  I had wanted to go to my cousins wedding in DR or Cuba in April, but I really can’t handle the drama of that side of the family any longer and the idea of staying in a hotel with them for a week made my anxiety flare up.  So off we go to Mexico.

I’m super glad.  I need a vacation.  The last pure vacation vacation for longer than 5 days was to Kruger National Park in 2003.  And while it was lovely, it wasn’t relaxing (waking up to wild animals in the African Veld is NOT relaxing). While I did go on a short 5 day birthday vacation for my 27th, I’ve never had a truly long relaxing vacation and I’m drooling over this one. 

Ofcourse because I’m going with my boyfriend, people have ALL kinds of ideas as to what will happen on the vacation.  I keep having to give people the shortened version of why its just two people who like each other travelling to the same place at the same time.  And thats all.  Not that I WANT any of these crazy ideas to happen, I just hate that we’re in a situation where they would not.

Which brings me to my last point.  I firmly believe, and always have, that the way you treat someone prepetuates the behaviour you may wish to stamp out.  This has only incidental meaning to the above note about my boyfriend.  But its something I have thought about for some time.  As a child (relatively), I always thought that if my parents wanted me to stop having attitude, they should treat me like I dont have attitude.  If you expect the worst from someone, you will get it.  That sort of thing.  This isn’t to say people around me are expecting bad things from me, but people often DON’T want something from me and then complain when they get it.  I could understand if my behavior was created in isolation, but its not.

Because I lvoe her to bits, I’ll use my boyfriends cat as an example.  Shes one anxious kitty.  My boyfriend (and I, I admit) would like her to become less anxious.  But what do we do (ok, mostly me)?  I scare her to get a laugh and grab her when shes obviously not wanting to be picked up.  No wonder shes only making tiny improvements in her behavior.  I keep giving her damn good reason to be anxious!

I’m in a place right now where I’m being told to be less insecure and more happy.  Firstly, I never thought I wasn’t a happy person, but thats besides the point.  So if we go with the persumption that I’m both and not argue that, I should have no where to go but up.  I have a wonderful boyfriend, a great job and I love in a great city.  Oh, and I’m healthy.  But I keep being given reasons to be insecure.  And I dont think the one person who wants the most for me to be secure understands that they are the one causing my insecurity.

Make sense?

And worst still is the fact that any conversation about this will make matters worse.

but I digress.  I dont think I’m an unhappy person.  Insecure, maybe a little, but I think everyone is.  If we were all secure in every aspect of ourselves, then what reason would we have to become a better person?

Its been pointed out to me recently that I don’t appear to be a very happy person.  This came in the midst of a very revealing conversation that might have been percipitated by my neurotic need to be the one who cleans my home.  Don’t ask.  I’m sure theres a gene my mother and I share that only this small fraction of the McCarthy clan have.

Am I an unhappy person?  I never thought so.  I guess I always thought I was a realist.  You know, the type that hopes for the best but prepares for the worst.  I guess I always like to think of life as ready to kick me in the ass, but hoping it doesn’t hurt that much.  But someone very close to me mentioned that I don’t appear to be a very happy person.  And this made me think . . . a lot.

I use to be a very happy person.  My teens and early twenties were full of some very happy moments.  I rarely cried while I was doing my Bachelors and dating Robert and lived at home and worked part time at the Running Room.  I was perhaps the most happiest I’ve ever been while living in Ireland.  Not a care in the world until the very end when I threw in the towel (for reasons I’ll only discover with lengthy trips to the thearpist).  I can’t remember ever being as happy as I was when I working at Fitzpatrick Castle.  I loved being abroad, working with great people.  I’ve thought a lot recently about why I was so happy then, and not now (as people have pointed out).  It wasn’t because of the relatinoship I was in.  Sure, I was happy with Robert, but its very obvious to those privy to my confessions at the time, that I was already slowly falling out of love with him.  It wasn’t because of the job I had.  I hated working till 5am two nights in a row, or working the dreaded Sunday afternoon shift full of screaming children. It wasn’t because I was making loads of money and had no debt.  I was making enough to live comfortably, but I had a ton of debt which my parents were paying on at the time.  So why was I so happy?

I think (I THINK), maybe I just felt invincable.  Sure, I’d seen a lot of heartache and pain in my life, but I hadn’t been jaded by love or life.  I was 23.  the world was my perverbial oyster.  I knew I could do anything I set my mind too. I was young, healthy and in charge of my life.

So whats so different now?

I work in a job where I make enough money to drop $100 on a three month pass to all the attractions at the West Edmonton Mall.  My job is personally fulfilling.  I miss my friends terribly, but I keep in touch with them.  I’m developing new friends and I’m in a relationship that makes realize I’m the luckiest girl in the world. I’m healthy and so is my family.

By all accounts, I have a better quality of life now than I did when I was at my happiest.  but yet, I still appear to be an unahppy person.  Am I jaded my life and love?  Maybe.  I’m tired of saying I’m still healing from my last relationship.  I wish jonathan all the best in life.  I’m proud I survived the worst year of my life and I wear it on my sleeve like a badge of honor.  so whats the problem?  why, when I’m told I don’t appear to be happy, so I revert back to excusing my actions through 2007?

When I look at my life in individual blocks, I don’t see the problem.  I’m coming to terms with my career.  No longer do I say “My job isn’t in my area” or “Its just until I find something in my area”.  This is my area right now and I’ve accepted that as long as I’m doing something that makes the lvies of others better, I’m happy.

See . . . theres that word again.  Happy.

I love my relationship.  I’ve never met someone who makes me as happy as my boyfriend does.  I want to squeeze the stuffing out of him.  Hes so supportive and optimistic.  We have our issues (which are essentially my issues).  but i’m happy as punch with him.   (When I’m not worried about losing him - ok, so its not perfect)

But see, happy.

I miss my friends incredibly, but I know their there for me.  And i’m slowly making new friends.  and they are great people.  And for a non-social person, I think the few dedicated friends I do have is a great indication of things to come.  they make me happy.

Happy.

Anyway, my whole point is I don’t get why I appear to be an unhappy person.  I’m “happy” with the things in my life.  but maybe thats it.  I’m happy “with the things in my life”.  Am I happy with my life?  Do I face life thinking today could be the best day of my life?  Just because I know I need to be more of an optimist in order to save my relationship, does that mean I need to fear the end of it?  I’ve proven i’m the strongest person I know.  I know that I will land on my feet no matter what.  Shouldn’t that be enough to make me more secure….

Hey.  Wait.  thats a word I’ve not used yet.  Secure.  Maybe its not about being happy.  Maybe its all about being secure.  Am I secure?

If I’m more optimistic, will I be more secure?  If I KNOW I will eventually work in a job that uses all my talents and in the mean time I’m learning more, I should be more secure in the knowledge that I’m a wonderfuly bright person with skills in demand.  If I KNOW my boyfriend and I are meant to be together because I just feel it in my stomach, I should be more secure in how he feels for me (because I’m a wonderfuly bright person with winning personality and smile - blah - vomit).  If I KNOW my life will work out exactly the way it should, I should be secure in the knowledge that life will not throw at me nothing I can’t handle.

Life will not throw at me nothing I can not handle.

Hows that for a first step towards optimism?

I can feel it already.

I use to think PMS never affected me.  I was cool, calm and collected.  What mood swings, i ask.

And then this weekend happened.

I literally lost it while watching a movie Friday night.  And not lost it in the good girly way.  It was Patriot Games and we were hardly 30 minutes in.  Was i upset at the terrible representation of the Irish?  No.  I lost it when, for an instant, I was reminded that sometimes I think my boyfriend should be more communicative.  Does his lack of communication bother me 95% of the time - no.  But at 930pm on Friday night while watching Patriot Games, I was dumbfounded that he could be such an emotional retard.

Ok, hes not an emotional retard, but at 930pm on Friday night, only 2 days away from mother natures worst gift to women, I thought so.

On Saturday, reeling emotionally from this, I lost it when nothing went my way.  I forgot and then dropped instructions to Alex’s in ponoka.  i missed the turn to Bin 102 (or whatever its called). I couldn’t get from one side of Calgary Trail to the other in traffic (stupid 4 lanes in one direction).  I orded food I hated at Taco bell and I missed the gas station to get air in the tires.  And then I called my boyfriend by my ex’s name.  My last ex. 

Yah.

In a moment of complete exhaustion and frustration at my inability to do anything right, I turned and said “I’m not pointed in the right direction yet, Jonathan.”

And I slapped my hand over my mouth. Drove to the gas station.  And cried.

I’d never done that.  We managed to come up with a pretty obvious reason why I did it.  I spent most of the 4 years with (or not with, depending on the day) jonathan being frustrated or angry.  I don’t get frustrated or angry with my boyfriend (that much anyway). It slipped out because it was a common phrase (or type of phrase) I said to Jonathan.

I dunno.  Maybe.  Maybe not.  The boyfriend seemed to buy it and I guess thats all that matters.

Do I have feelings still for the ex?  As I move closer to a year apart, I guess I can admit that I will always love him.  It took me some time to realize with Robert that I will always love him.  I never want anything bad to happen to either of those men and I do believe that love is a feeling you have for a lifetime - regardless (irregardless) of your feelings for them.  I truly hate Jonathan with every single fiber of my being, but I hate him for what he did to me and not for his ability to be a good person.  So because I base love on a number of things and because I have two types of love in my heart (romantic and one general), I guess I can say I love him in the general sense because he is a good person who would go the ends of the earth for people he considers good.

Do I ever want to see him again - no.   

So I guess the answer is, yes I do still have feelings for him.  but not THOSE feelings.  I have a ton of feelings for him.  Hatred, anger, confusion, disgust and yes, general love.

No one said I wasn’t a complex woman.

Anywho, so we went to Ponoka and visited with an old friend and the best baby in the world.  I dont’ know if I will have children.  but if I could be promised Caitlin, I would have 20.  she is the sweetest, most pleasant child I’ve ever met.  Alex is lucky I didn’t have a bag big enough to kidnap her in.

the drive home was also an emotional ride.  My boyfriend request (rather directed me) to highway 2a.  Its two lanes, one in each direction, and his thoughts were it would be easier for me to drive.  While, yes, the road was easier for me to drive, at night the lights of the on coming cars blinded me.  And I freaked out more than once.

He was perfect tho, being very sweet and patient with me, reminding me there was nothing wrong with my driving.  We made it back to town in one piece and, well, maybe because I was very emotional (stupid mother nature), it hit me once again that I do love him.  In the romantic way and can’t wait to be able to tell him.

All in all, it was an ok weekend.  But it was cemented in my head that I need to recognize I’m going to be cranky when I’m pms-ing and I need to take extra percautions to not piss off the people the love at that time.

So last night it became painfully obvious to me that I need to move.  I had been thinking about it for a while now, but last night was the last straw.

I live on the 9th floor of a nice apt building.  I like it.  Its small, but it suits my needs.  Its very close to work and everything else I need - besides the boyfriend.  But this summer has been an eye opener.  I lived with my Ex in South Africa for most of 2007. Including the blazingly hot summer.  I often went naked in the apt.  And on a few nights, I sat up right in our bed dripping with sweat cause it was 40 degrees at 3am.

While Edmonton does not get that hot at 3am, my apt does.  Its like a heat trap that locks in heat and never releases it.  So for the past few weeks I’ve been thinking I need to move before next June.

Last night my boyfriend spent the night.  He’s been unwilling to spend the night for most of the summer because it gets too hot at night.  But yesterday was bitterly cold (for August) and the night was cool.  I had all the windows open and well…wasn’t he cool during supper?

So he stayed.  Actually, more because we drank a bottle of wine and then vodka, but I wasn’t complaining.  I enjoy my boy in my bed. (I’m usually in his).  However, I was awake half the night warm.  Not sweating, but warm enough to not sleep. At 5am, we both woke up and had to walk around the apt to cool off.

So while getting back into bed at 5am, I turned to him and said “I’m moving”.

• I’m not the best at delegating.  I live by the motto “don’t ask others to do what you can do yourself”.  Not that I think I’m perfect at everything I do, but I trust myself to get the work done and I have little faith in others ability to do anything.  This way the shit doesn’t hit the fan when it comes to crunch time and I have no one to blame but myself for things not working out.

  However, part of my new job is to oversee the organization of a conference. 

  First off, organization is my OCD.  I see it, I want to organize it.  Imagine me in a room full of colored blocks.  I want to put them all in groups based on color.  Its a little overwhelming cause I can’t help myself sometimes and I figure, one day, a psychologist will get a hold of me and put me on some drugs. 

  Nevertheless, I must delegate the organization of this conference to my underling.

  Imagine my anxiety.

  But anyway - I have set out a task list for us with his tasks and my tasks.  Hes doing all the leg work and I’m doing the things that I just can’t let go of: getting presentations together, ordering the printed materials, doing the agenda.  But hes doing the really important stuff.  The stuff that needs to get done if this conference is to be more than me holding some papers.

  His first few tasks went miserably.  He was, by yesterday, to pick out a meeting location.  I went with him to visit all three finalists (picked by me).  On Monday afternoon, he came into my office and asked if I wanted to see the emails and attachments the three finalists sent him.

  “No, I do not want to see the attachments.  This is your baby and I will support you in your decision”.

  On Wed he came into my office telling me that the Westin quoted him a $1700 audio visual fee.  Firstly, while I think the Westin is insane, I also think this underlining over estimated the audio visual stuff we would need.  But sigh, this is his baby.

  “Would you like to see the quote the Westin gave us?”

  “No, I don’t want to see the Westin quote.  This is your baby, and I will support you in your decision”.

  Yesterday was our bi-weekly (bi-monthly?) meeting.  He came into my office and I asked him”

  “So have you choosen a location?”

  “Well, the Westin want to charge us $1700 for audio visual….”

  “Ok, I think we need to just hash this out and make a decision.  I think we both know the answer, lets just go with the Chateau Louis”. (this is me)

  “I agree, good choice”. (this is him)

  It wasn’t my choice to make.  On numberous occasions over the past week I told him this was his baby and I would suppor him.  I went with him to see the venues and I gave him my opinions while we visited the venues.  He had the info.  Make the decision.

  But he didn’t.

  I could understand some stage fright if he was the one to make the decision and write the cheque.  But hes not.  He had to tell me and when I ok’d the decision, he had to write the BN to get approval from the Deputy. So if he made the wrong choice, there were at least 3 people who would be able to tell him he made the wrong decision.

  So next up for him is to write the BN for approval. I told him flat out whats needed in the BN and when he should write it.  Do I trust he will get:

• the quote from the Chateau Louis
• estimate printing costs
• actually write the damn thing

No. I dont.

Did I mention he was to help me draft a invite list?  Has he?  No.  Not really.

New development:  He just wandered into my office and asked me about the lunch quote. 

Maybe he will surprise me.

But I doubt it.

Did I mention I have little faith in humanity?

Everyone is tired of hearing Canadians differeniate themselves from Americans.  The world gets it: We are not Americans.  So I will not bore you with that triade.   Its enough to simply say it up front.  Canadians are not Americans.

This blog entry is sticking up for Americans . . . and Canadians, Europeans and Asians.  Everyone else out there who isn’t a white South African.

I’m sick and tired of hearing the same old self-depricating remark made by 20- and 30-something whtie South Africans: “THEY don’t even realize that there are white South Africans” or “THEY think lions roam our backyards.”

No we don’t.

Even the most stupid hillbilly from the backwoods of Georgia knows that Lions do not roam the streets of Cape Town.  We know white South Africans exist (hell, we do watch Ernie Elms play golf) and we know cell phones exist in deep dark Africa.

Almost daily I would overhear some pompous white South African mouth off about how Americans (they ALWAYS pick on Americans) don’t know where Sudan is, or think the only good thing to come out of South Africa was Nelson Mandela or that Tigers roam freely everywhere.  And while I get I’m the exception to the rule wrt the initmate details of African history and politics, most non-white South Africans do watch tv, read newspapers and hell, some even travel.  We are well aware that South Africa is almost as 1st world as Canada. We are not as ignorant as you might expect. 

We care.  And while we might not give money to the cause, sometimes its because we are doing the right thing and letting Africa sort itself out. 

Ranting about how ignorant “Americans” are (and by American I mean every non-African counrty) only proves the point - white South Africans are as ignorant as the media protrayed their racist Aparthied forefathers.

Sure there are people out there who don’t understand that that Sudan is in northern-ish Africa and not neighboring Zimbabwe to the east.  But in the same breathe, how many white South Africans know that the first transatlantic flight took off from Newfoundland?  Or that Alberta doesn’t have rats?  I could easily be just as rude and point out that not one single white South African knew you could eat a lether belt buckle (ok so I threw that in for pure amusment sake for those having read Lure of the Labrador Wild in high school).  But the point is clear: there are just as many rude ignorant “Americans” as there are rude, ignorant white South Africans - plenty and few in the same breathe.

In case my bolded statement is still making a few voortrekkers steam at the ears, my point was that saying “we” are ignorant of Africa is akin to my statement.  While it may have been a trueism years ago, its hardly fact now.  And in fact, to say so about “Americans” is as bad as my bolded statement.

Its a sweeping gneeralization that begs to be disproved. 

And I’m proof.

And everyone I speak to about my experiences is one less ignorant “American”.

Speaking of feeling gross (and fat) - I strongly feel that kids should not have access to too much crap food in school.  I wasn’t allowed to eat the crap that the school offered and I grew up healthy.  But today, kids can get everything a cornor store can offer in their hallways. 

These kids often end up overweight and unhealthy.  And these unhealthy kids grow up to be unhealthy adults.

I support Healthy Vending for Schools.

And I think you should too.

This is a paid post.

I haven’t slept well for the past 2 nights.  In fact, I didn’t even go to work this morning.  I will go to work this afternoon.  But I feel gross.  I’m not tired anymore, but I feel dirty even tho I just showered.  I feel fat and just all around gross.  Most likely its a consequence of two poor nights of sleep, but I hate the way I feel. 

Ugh.

And to make it worse (well, around the fat part), I’m looking at potentially going south in October. 

I’m not usually so self conscious.