BFF

When you initially meet someone, you don't really think about if or how he or she will be in your life somewhere down the road. You are probably just in the moment and perhaps enjoying chatting with him or her right then and there. This encounter may be fleeting and that will be it, or he or she becomes and acquaintance that you occasionally have coffee with, or if you are lucky you find that someone who you can truly be a friend, and if you are truly luck you collect a group of friends that make you an even better person. Hopefully everyone has that opportunity where you find that special someone or someones, proverbial soul-mates of a sort. The grown up version of your childhood BFF, that one person that at the age of 8 think the world of and can't live without. Only now as an adult, these are the people that you open a bottle of wine with when you have a bad day at work; then proceed to get drunk with you when you have a really bad day or want to celebrate a really good day, remember the names of boys you currently like, then proceed to give him an interview when you get serious about him, are more excited about what is going on in your life then you are, want to hear the details about your first day of work when you start a new job, tell you the truth when you don't want to hear it, call you out when you make a bad decision, sometimes know what you want even before you want it, and are there to listen without judgement.

I have been been gifted with such friends, an incredible group of individuals. They are the ones that have inspired me and encouraged me. They push me to be a better person and are a reflection of all the strengths and goodness that one needs in life. I am truly blessed to have these phenomenal individuals in my life. I just need to remember to tell them more of how special they are.

First Day Jitters

Flasback to your first day of school: you have a new set of clothes to wear, your backpack is packed with school supplies, you hope your classroom is nice, you wonder if your teacher will be easy, you hope that your classmates will be nice and you will find a friend, and you are bit nervous with butterflies in your stomach. Although, I am now a grown up and think I can handle a new situation, afterall I have started school many times...many many times, I am still a bit nervous about my first day. Yet the first day rituals and questions still apply. I have a new outfit to wear, but instead of a backpack I carry a shoulder bag but I still wonder if my office will be nice and if my supervisor will expect a lot of me, and of course will my coworkers like me. It goes to show you that no matter how old you get there are certain things that still don't change.

Dance of Freedom

Tomorrow will be the last day that I will have to spend in the Dungeon. The dungeon has been my home for the last year and a half. I think the nickname is indicative of how I felt in my job...trapped with no way of seeing out to the outside world. My job was not horrible and I was very lucky to have had this opportunity to work there. This was my first "grown up" job after gradschool and it was definitely eye opening. I came out of school a bit cocky about my education and skills and extremely eager. I was going to change the world and be the best employee ever. It turns out that I am not as smart as I think I am and research is not my forte. It was a big blow to my ego when I discovered that I wasn't doing a good enough job. For the first time in a very very long time, I felt inadequate. It was not the job nor my supervisor but it was just the fit with my personality, interests, and skills. HIV is an area that is really interesting but I just felt like I needed to do more than read about them on paper. I felt helpless...the reason why I went back to school was not being met.

So tomorrow, when I walk out of the dungeon for the last time, it will be with joy in my step and hope in my heart.

Boys on the Brain

You think that from my blog entries over the last year that I am not an independent women with feminist tendencies, but am instead a teenage girl. I swear that I am not boy obsessed, or at least I hope that I am not boy obsessed. I realize that a lot of my blog entries have been about dating. I am not, repeat am not one of those predictable deterministic crazy cat lady types who spends her 30's obsessing about men only to end up living with 30 of her closest feline friends. The dating entries were only because a few of my friends suggested I jot down my stories from my dating experiences, it was for their entertainment purposes only. I truly hope that this is not a sign that I have reverted back to a teenage girl obsessed about boys. Maybe I should do a rant about some political issue or the current state of the war in Afghanistan just to reaffirm that I am capable of more than just writing about dating.

Things That Make Me Happy

I sometimes forget that there are all these warm fuzzy things that are great about the world. They make me smile, like:

Organic Fair Trade Bananas at my favourite grocery store, without it costing a leg and an arm

Rides home after a long day at work so that I don't have to take the bus

Walking down the street after a rain and wind storm and seeing all the colourful leaves scattered around

Being walked home when you don't have an umbrella so that you don't get wet

Getting an unexpected email from someone reminding you they are thinking of you

Friends who are more excited about what is going in your life then you are

Letting Boys win....

So I have ventured out on some more dates, this time it was not an online thing but a friend of a friend that I met at party. I figured that it would be nice to be outside and do something fun and interactive instead of the standard coffee thing. I invited him out to play bocce, a somewhat challenging game, a test of your understanding of physics, a little bit of finesse, some luck, and in my case some no holds barred ball throwing. I had mentioned this to my friends, who of course have played bocce with me before and told me that I should let him win. I thought about it and didn't want to feign the helpless girl so that I could stroke a boys ego. I figured that in this day and age of women's empowerment a guy would respect a girl who could hold her own on the bocce field. Guys like girls who are independent and capable....well, I was wrong. I probably should have warned him that I play a lot of bocce and had home field advantage. I ended up beating him by a large margin. At one point I asked him what the score was and his reply was "7 million to one", although he said it in a joking manner, I could tell that he didn't like losing. I got the message loud and clear when I asked him if he wanted to play another game and he decided that it was time to go get a drink. He did insist of carrying the bocce set and I did pretend that it was too heavy for me to carry down the street, afterall I was just a girl ;). So lesson learned, let the boys win when it comes to games.

Please pick my daughter

I am sure many of you single gals and guys can commiserate, you go over to your parent's house for dinner and somewhere between your first bite and dessert your mom will say, "so are you seeing anyone? You should think about getting a boy/girlfriend" Like it is some sort of choice and there are potential husbands and wives just wandering down the street for the taking. My parents have stopped asking me directly after I would alternate between telling them that no one wants me and that I was growing to grow old and have lots of cats. Now they just ask my brothers and sisters for intel. I came across this link about a mom who started a website so that moms, aunts, cousins, or any nosey family member can put up an online profile extolling the virtues of the poor single soul. I find it hilarious yet strangely weird that in this tech savy world that our moms have resorted to new ways of trying to set us up. However, instead of the meet my hairdresser's sister's son, you now have your mom going online to find you a mate. This is one of the few times that I am glad that my mom is not web savy, or else you would be certain to find a posting stating something like: Marry my daughter, she is a bit older but only because she has gone to graduate school and was focused on her career. She is neat and tidy, she cleans, her cooking is not so great but I can teach her. She loves kids and will make a gret wife.

Check out the link: http://today.msnbc.msn.com/id/38224213/ns/today-relationships/?GT1=43001

Fodder for Reality TV

Sometimes I think that I have this internal magnet that attracts the crazies. I always seem to have these encounters that make for great stories to regale my friends, usually at my expense though.

I have cautiously ventured out into the world of online dating and it has generally been quite uneventful. I usually meet some guy, chat for a few hours and realize that there isn’t much chemistry and part our happy ways, a little bit ambivalent about the experience. However, I have the misfortune to have been on two dates where if I didn’t know any better I would swear that I was on some sort of reality show of “the world’s worst blind dates”. These dates rank high on the run to the bathroom with your cellphone and call a friend for a rescue scale. In fact that is what I did.

The first date, let’s call him Chicken Man, gave me a lesson of always ensuring your cellphone is in your pocket on your person just in case you need to be rescued. I being my punctual self (read nervous self) arrived a bit early and waited near the entrance for the guy. I waited for 20 minutes and didn’t see him, so I sat down and proceeded to read my book (keeping in mind that I have only seen one picture of him hoping that he will recognize me). About 10 minutes my date comes to my table informing me that he has been waiting for me in the back for 15 minutes. Who waits for their date in the back of the club? We proceed to start talking and he doesn’t really stop talking about himself, he tells me all about his love of music and his involvement in several bands, including one that he is in with his father and brother. Okay, so he is close with his family but he says it in a way as to impress me. It is essentially a walk through Chicken Man’s musical career. The live music starts up and it is too loud to talk, we both agree to move to the back of the bar so we can hear each other. He quickly gathers his stuff and takes off, I look down to pick up my purse and when I look up he has briskly walked to the back of the club. He leaves me in the dusk and when I get to the table he gets up and leaves me again. I finally settle in and look around and he is up at the bar ordering another drink and some food. I am left sitting there for 10 minutes thinking should I just get up and leave now or should I at least pretend that he isn’t a jerk. He comes back with a try full of chicken skewers, but at least he offers me some. I kindly decline and tell him I am a vegetarian, his response is “oh really”, he then proceeds to quickly devour the chicken. Perhaps he eats it at record pace because he doesn’t want to offend me with it sitting there or probably he is just starving, explaining his speed in getting up and making a bee line to order. So I attempt to engage him in conversation and the topic of cooking comes up. I ask him what he likes to cook and then he goes into a detailed list of all the ways he likes to prepare chicken…bbq chicken, deep fried chicken, roast chicken, chicken wings, etc. I guess that in the span of the 5 minutes between scarfing down the chicken and talking he forgot that I am a vegetarian. The topic then moves to his ex-wife. He proceeds to tell me how he would have killed himself if he were still with his ex-wife and how bitter the divorce is. At this point, I am regretting that I put my cellphone in my purse and I can’t access it without looking very conspicuous. I decide to go to the bathroom, where I gather my thoughts and give myself a pep talk. I just need to nod and smile, nod and smile. I come back and he thankfully asks me some questions, we come to the topic of being independent and I say to him that I prefer to be around independent people at which point he says, “ you don’t hang around with little kids do you, they are so needy. I quickly respond and say, well in fact I have 4 nieces and nephew and they are incredibly independent. He then says, well I don’t want to be around kids, when my sister and brother-in-law have kids I am moving out, I don’t want IT disturbing my sleep.. The final thing he asks me is “do you know where the best place to meet girls in groups are? I don’t like to go and talk to single girls and buy them drinks, it is a waste of money, groups of girls are better”. Okay at this point, I have been way too nice and it is time for me to go. He knows that I am not interested; the far off look in my eyes probably is a big clue. I tell him I have to go to the bathroom so that I don’t have to walk out with him. I couldn’t believe that I spent an hour with this jerk.

Then there is Spandex Boy, having learnt my lesson with Chicken Man. I have my friends read his profile and give the approval that he is not some child hating cheap carnivore. We agree to meet for coffee one day after work. I touch base with him on the phone before I leave work and he seems a bit hesitant and slow on the phone. Maybe he has had a long day or he is a bit nervous. We agree to meet at Chapters. I assume that this is just the meeting place and then we will go for coffee somewhere, little did I know that Chapters was part of his date plan. He arrives and suggests that we go upstairs to the children’s section and show each other our favourite children’s books. Okay, kind of cool, a good way to break the ice. We head upstairs and he stops a sales associate to ask her where the children’s section is, she tells him to wait a moment because she is helping someone else and he then interrupts her and says just point it out to us. He then says to me that “she was a bit rude don’t you think:”, in my mind I though he was a bit rude. Anyways, as we get closer to the children’s section, he picks up some of the toys and plays with them, he pushes the wagon and drops the handle. At this point, I think that maybe I have gone on a date with a 5 year old child trapped in a grown up’s body. We get to the children’s section and he knows exactly what book to get, like he has rehearsed it. I walk around looking at the books and he comes back 5 minutes later and we sit down in the chairs reserved for little kids. He opens up the book and points to the pictures and I get a sense that he is going to read to me. I quickly pipe in and ask him why he likes this book, hoping not encourage him to read to me. We proceed to go page by page through it and read it together. Thankfully, story time is over and we decide to go for coffee. However, as we walk out of Chapters he proceeds to touch more toys and pick up books. He is just like a little kid wanting to tough and play with everything. We finally get to the coffee shop, which he just sort of walks into expecting me to follow him. We have no dialogue about whether I want to have coffee here or not. I sort of flop down in these comfy chairs near the window but Spandex boy starts to have an intimate moment with the chair, he caresses it, slides down in it and makes some faint moaning sounds as he slips into the seat. He tells me that the chair is perfect for him. I wanted to get up and leave him while he had the encounter with the chair, it was like I was watching some public display of affection between a couple and felt embarrassed, except it was him and this chair. Spandex boy, and this is the reason why he is called Spandex boy asks me what my quirks are. I am not sure, I mumble something about shoes and how much I like them. He asks if it is a fetish, and I vehemently say no. He is already a bit sexualized and I don’t want to encourage him. Apparently this answer was not satisfactory because he then says I will give you time to think about it. I will tell you mine. Turns out he loves spandex, tight shiny spandex, (petroleum bi-product materials). His ultimate fantasy is a tight spandex suit, like speedskaters wear. His turn on is if he and a girl were to grind up against each other while wearing the suits. I am not quite sure what to say to him at this point. I look around thinking there must be some cameras here because this can’t be real, this is some sort of joke. He still prods for my quirks and I tell him that I don’t like drool. He tells me that the drools a lot in his sleep and if I were to sleep over he would roll over and drool on me. At this point I tell him I have to go to the bathroom and this time I have my phone with me. I call for a rescue text. I come back and eagerly await the text (earlier his cell phone kept going off and he put it in his pocket on vibrate. Thinking ahead I told him it was okay for him to answer it so that I could answer mine). Finally my phone went off and I told him I had to go. I get up to go and we politely shake hands, except he won’t let go of my hand. He tells me I have a very firm handshake. He asks if I want to have dinner with him and I decline, he still won’t let go. He asks if I will MSN with him, I tell him I don’t MSN. I pull my hand away and briskly walk down the street mumbling something like, bye, see you, will be in touch over my shoulder. Thank goodness I wasn’t too far away from home. I swear that he must have been acting because no one in their right mind would act that way on a date.

Beautiful Souls

One of the unspoken rules of transit use in Vancouver is not to make eye contact and certainly not to smile. These are apparent invitations for random people to talk to you. There is this weird social phenomena where the bus is completely silent because everyone is plugged in to their MP3 players or texting away on their phone while keeping their heads down and eyes firmly downcast.

I have a tendency not to subscribe to this rule, I often make eye contact and you can't not smile at someone once you have looked them in the eye. What else would you do? Sometimes people are so shocked that I have smiled at them and are caught off guard and quickly look away or on more than one occasion it has been the impetus for them to start chatting with me.

Last Friday I was sitting in the accordian section of the bus with my newly acquired record player on my lap. No no generally sits in those seats because the seats face each other. When you sit there you may have t0 face some stranger with only a few feet between you. I thought that I would take up the least space if I sat there as no one would want to sit across from me. We get to the Main street stop and just as I look up I happen to meet eyes with this guy and then he proceeds to sit right across from me. For a split second I am not sure what I should do, should I do the Vancouver thing and look down or should I look up at him and smile? Afterall he is sitting right across from me only 2 feet away. I of course look up and smile and he smiles back. This breaks the akward tension and we start talking. In a span of 5 minutes we know each other's names, where we live, have chatted about music and record players, have high-fived each other and have shown each other our tattoos. He even told me that he could tell that it wouldn't be akward sitting across from each other because I had kind eyes and was cute. We got caught up in the conversation that he missed his stop. This guy had piercings and arms full of tattoos but he turned out to be one of my friendliest people I have met on a bus.

Then there was Sunday afternoon and Chuck. I was waiting for the bus when this man came up to me, an older man, big and tough looking, in a leather jacket, all he wanted to know was when the next bus would arrive. He is a self-described "Hells Angels" type but I ended up having a really great conversation with him. I had a book in hand the "A Thousand Dreams" about the Downtown eastside and this got him talking about his childhood growing up there. In the 15 minute ride Chuck told me all about himself and that he was in town from the Sunshine Coast visiting his ailing Aunt. Chuck has a degree in Zoology from UBC and shared with me some interesting stories and political beliefs. He may have looked like a tough biker but he turned out to be a really sweet guy. When I told him I was going for a bike ride he was incredibly kind and told me to be careful because the world would be at a lost if anything happened to me.

It goes to show that there are lots of beautiful souls out there who may look outside the box but are still really cool people. Keeping your eyes down on the bus prevents you from possibly meeting some of these interesting people. Perhaps it is time to unplug and smile at those around you.

With Glowing Hearts....

Seven years ago, soon after it was announced I wrote on my blog about how excited I was that Vancouver would be hosting the 2010 Olympics. Well, in those seven years I became a little more cynical...or what I like to say is a little more critical about the issues around me. As the Olympics descended upon my "little" hometown of Vancouver I became even more critical about the costs, the potential impact on the homeless, the blatant commercialism, and the throngs of drunken rowdies on my city. I was determined to boycott them and sleep in a red tent for the duration of the games showing my solidarity for the marginalized in Vancouver. Sigh...I must admit that I was all talk and eventually my anti-Olympic resolve started to crumble with every medal we won. It was hard to protest the Olympics when your cries were drowned out by the spontaneous singing of "O Canada" and when the protesters broke windows. It was hard not to get swept up in the sea of red and white. In my defense, I was the most anti-Olympic Olympic watcher I knew. I did attempt to talk to people about the social issues surrounding the games but no one wanted to listen to me. I even participated in a project to distribute harm reduction kits to the masses and gave out free condoms to all those that I could. I must have distributed over 500 condoms during the games. That hopefully reduced a portion of my hypocritical guilt I felt for participating in some of the events and cheering on the Canadian Hockey team. I am proud to say that I didn't support the HBC and buy the much coveted red Olympic mitts but I did visit some of the sites and listen to the free concerts. I couldn't resist.

So with that said I developed an Olympic complex and now I am trying to figure out how to reconcile the two sides. Perhaps supporting para-Olympians who I feel have been left out in the proverbial cold and will not get the recognition they deserve or by making a donation to Pivot Legal Society. Maybe both.

Anyways, here are some interesting facts about the seedier side of the Olympics.

It is estimated that 100,000 condoms were distributed to athletes, staff, and volunteers to the games. Averaging 15 condoms a person. My 500 condoms was just a drop in the bucket.