Tuesday, January 29, 2013

Find Dodge & Then Get Out Of It

I've known Debbie for the better part of a decade, since we first worked together in an office we'd both rather forget about.

She recently started making jewellery and selling it online. Now I'm not being biased because Debbie kicks ass, but her stuff is great. And so she sent me a pair of earrings she knew I'd like.

When the package came in, the envelope was torn and placed inside of a plastic post office bag. This is all that was in it:

A bag for the earrings.

A note saying  that she thinks the earrings will look great with my hair.

But no earrings.

Someone tore the envelope and swiped them.  Because people are awesome.

So she sent another pair (thanks Deb!), and these ones came in juuuust fine. They're so pretty, and she's right - they work well with my hair.

My only problem was that I couldn't take a photo with them on me that really showed their colour correctly. I'm a horrible photographer. I tried, multiple times. Different light sources, different angles. And these photos just don't do the earrings justice.

Case in point:


Nah, not there either.

So then I put them up against the whitest thing I own - Daisy.

She wasn't overly thrilled. And still, it's not doing the gorgeous colour justice.

If you want to see more of Debbie's jewellery, check out the photos on her Facebook page, or head right to her Etsy page. She has some fantastic one-of-a-kind pieces, and I'm a huge fan of people doing what they really dig.

(We've come a long way from that damn office, Deb.)

Thursday, January 24, 2013

If That Mean Old City Gets You Down, I'll Be Around

I've been writing again. Sort of.

And by writing, I mean for myself. Not for the job, or a client. Just me.

Writing in an old diary I've had since I was 8. Rarely used, yet packed full of memories of things better forgotten. I was a sad little kid. Confused little adult. But the diary has served its purpose through these 11 years, and is somewhat serving it again. I never have to worry about anyone going through it and learning how nuts I am, because no one can read my handwriting. Score one for the lefties.

I'm also writing songs again, this time using my extremely limited guitar abilities. Will anyone ever hear them? Not likely. But Daisy is a pretty good audience member. I also keep bugging a hometown friend of mine to move to Toronto and start a band with me, since every band should have at least one actual musician. He wants to name it "As Good As It Goetz". Instead, I've dubbed it "Go Folk Yourself".

It will never actually exist, but names are still important in fake plans.

Lastly, I've been writing long-winded posts on here that are saved and then left unpublished, because it's just better that way. There's a good chance this will be one of them. And if it's not, that means I was feeling more open than I tend to. That, and confusing people is sometimes a hobby of mine. Like walking into walls, and making up words.

I used to write fiction; I always swore I'd be an author, but I stopped bothering when I started freelancing in 2007. I have short stories and half-finished novels hidden around my apartment. I doubt I'll ever start that again, to be honest.

But writing otherwise, just for me.... is something. And I'll take it.

Tuesday, January 22, 2013

Mistook The Nods For An Approval, Just Ignore The Smoke & Smile

Lately hermit life has been appealing.

When there are things I'm dealing with, I tend to stay at home and keep to myself. It's not always the smart thing to do, but it's reflexive. Other than dog walks, I've only forced myself to get out of the house and be in the social presence of other humans a few times in the past weeks.

So, after a particularly anxiety-ridden Saturday, I got up and out of the house to see some awesome people.

Daisy wasn't overly enthused that I left her alone for awhile, but hey - it had to be done.

Living in Toronto can sometimes make it difficult to see certain people on a regular basis - especially if you live at opposite ends of the city. When you factor in how busy people are (a normal Torontonian trait), and my own busy yet hibernate-y loner ways, I definitely don't see my friends nearly as often as I should.

So there's nothin' like a birthday to bring people together. 

And speaking of birthdays, since it was Bob's, you should probably give him a birthday present by coming out to our Full Card Friday night at Velvet Underground this Friday.

We do 'em on the last Friday of every month - I wasn't at the last one, due to being out of town for the holidays, but I'm at this one for sure. My nights out during my anxiety overload are few and far between, so come on out and laugh at the freak (me)..

See ya Friday!

Thursday, January 17, 2013

The Cold Comfort Of The In-Between

How much information is too much, online?

With all of our outlets (social media, blogs, writing on bathroom stalls in bars), over-sharing has become the norm. I know what some of you ate for breakfast. What a few of you are wearing. How many times you cried yesterday, and which rom-com you think is about your life. And so on...

I'm not tellin'.
I'm no different, really. Or at least I wasn't - on this blog in particular, I'd post about many of my weakest moments, whatever was going on my life, and exactly how I felt about it. This was always my outlet, my little rambly corner of the web.

But, for a personal blog, things don't get overly personal anymore. While I still post semi-regularly, the majority of it isn't a reflection of my personal life. I haven't bothered to divulge the "important" stuff in quite some time. My personal details are kept under wraps, and it makes no difference to anyone (except me). It's a good thing.

Over the past year or so, I became wary of over-sharing. Everyone knew too much, so much that now I'm embarrassed by some of it. I don't embarrass easily. But whatever you put online, it's out there - you can't always pick and choose who sees it, or how they react to it.

I'm certain that there are people who would disagree and say that I share far too much, but most of it is surface stuff. The things you'd tell acquaintances. And when I write about the anxiety disorder, depression or any medical issues, it's because I hate the stigmas attached to them and feel that we should be talking about them. That's my choice.

The internet doesn't need to know everything. It already knows too much.

George Orwell was right - Big Brother is watching you.

So, what about you? How much information do you share with the world, and how much is too much? Opinions welcome; debates not needed.

(If this entire post lacks sense, I apologize - I haven't really slept in a couple of weeks, and I may or may not be hallucinating this entry. And no - that's not an overshare.)

Monday, January 14, 2013

With Grace In Your Heart, & Flowers In Your Hair

I've never done yoga in my life.

Some people think it's strange when I say that, but it's true. I don't go to gyms, I don't join classes because they intimidate me, and, well... I'm stubborn.

But for my first Samba Days "Sambassador" experience, I decided to give it a shot. They have a Yoga Sanctuary package where you can either get 5 class passes for two people, or a "Couples Night Out" option with one private yoga class for two people.

I'm sure you can guess which one I chose.

I asked my sister to be my hot date, and we did the private class. 

The private classes are done at their Danforth location - the space was beautiful, the instructor was fantastic and made me really comfortable despite my complete lack of yoga knowledge, and somehow I didn't make a huge ass of myself. There's a first for everything, right?

I didn't think I would be able to relax and concentrate on the poses since I'm completely incapable of turning off my brain (& had particularly rough week), but it worked out better than I thought.

I'll likely give yoga (and Yoda) a shot again, now that I see why it works and that I'm able to do it. The private class was definitely the right way to start for me, and I completely recommend it for anyone like me who feels too much pressure being in a class. And I'm sure, for you non-single people, the couples' date night it's intended for would be awesome (and to continue the date, you can do what my sister and I did - head next door to the Spanish restaurant, Embrujo Flamenco.)

Since I wasn't exactly able to take photos during the class, you're all spared pictures of my downward dog, cobra, and all other poses. You're welcome.

All you get is a little (possibly improper) warrior action:

To grab this Samba Days experience for you or someone else, all the info is here.

Thursday, January 10, 2013

Still A Little Bit Of Your Song In My Ear

Roughly 99.9% of my job revolves around the internet. Running the business, connecting with people, the services we offer, and especially the social media management for clients.

But sometimes I loathe the internet.

Shut 'er down.
I know I've discussed this before, but sometimes it gets to the point that it bears repeating. I started my business because a big part of me loves the internet - it fascinates and amuses me. Opportunities are endless. But the love/hate aspect, from a strictly personal standpoint, has never wavered. The internet is both magical and evil.

The benefits it holds for businesses and brands is huge, obviously. And the way it allows anyone anywhere to connect is pretty amazing. I keep in touch with everyone I need to, anytime I want. All of that stuff I stand behind; those are the parts I truly dig.

But internet, you are damn preachy.

I often get tired of being told what I should be doing, how I'm living life wrong, and 8 billion articles a day that tell me why I suck at any particular thing and should re-think who I am. No, I don't need to know "5 Things Your Business Should Be Doing That We Recently Told You Your Business Should Not Be Doing." or "56 Ways Your Dumbass Facebook Profile Is Keeping You From Finding Love". Nope. Don't care.

There's that, and the inability to avoid things. We're exposed to everything, everyone. Even the things we try to steer clear of have a way of coming out at us. It's because of the internet that "FOMO" (fear of missing out - I loathe this acronym) became a thing due to everyone's need to be included in everything. People can very easily begin to lose grip on reality.

Yes, I realize the stupidity of me complaining about the internet on my personal blog. It's not lost on me.

But I still daydream about going off the grid for more than a day or two at a time. Being on an island or in a cottage somewhere with no computer, no cell phone, no internet. Just me and whoever I choose to spend my time with - no social media distractions, no articles yelling at me, no information overload. Just peace.

Daisy found our next home - no electricity.
I've recently realized how much social media and the internet in general aggravate my anxiety disorder. Sometimes I break from my personal stuff completely & focus only on client accounts to give my brain a rest. But, for now, it doesn't last long.

Ah, the joys of a love/hate relationship.

One day I'll master a balance. Until then, a chick can dream of something simpler.

Monday, January 7, 2013

Dispute The Suits I Ignite, & Then Watch 'Em Burn

For my last video blog, Masuka asked a question that I then turned over to you guys:

Everyone has their price: it's that magic number that you will accept to do ANYTHING. 
What's yours? 

The problem with me asking a question in the middle of a video blog is that it gets buried and forgotten by the end of the clip. So I'm asking it again, this time in good ol' regular blog form. Typed out on the computer-machine, like the pioneers did it.

What would you do for this shiiiiny penny?

Considering how important money is to all of us (don't lie, you know it is), I'd imagine that a lot of us would do just about anything for the right amount. If it meant never having to work another day in your life - no more getting yelled at by your asshole boss, no more catty office-mates, no more asking if strangers "want fries with that" - it's worth quite a damn lot.

Never having to worry about bills is huge enough but for someone (like me) who is self-employed, the idea of not having to stress incessantly about the future is immeasurable.

When I threw the question up on Twitter, Nick's response hit the nail on the head:

It's all about dignity.

So how much would you need to be paid in order to sacrifice your dignity in exchange for wealth?

And what would you do for that magic amount? What's your limit?

Thursday, January 3, 2013

Join Us In The Streets Where We Don't Belong

Oh, hello blog.

I just got back home to Toronto after being away since December 21st. Haven't really blogged in that time away either.

Sometimes I need to step back; reboot. Online, offline, all of it.

And so, now the inevitable Christmas photos have to surface - it's just the way it is. Any excuse to show how I tortured poor Daisy by putting the damn Santa hat on her, yet again.

It was a great Christmas. I was happy to have an extended stay at home with the family and dogs.

A good way to end a fairly good year.

I don't think I've ever called a year "good" before.

Had a quiet New Year's Eve, and it's been a quiet couple of days after. The beginning of a year tends to elevate my anxiety (which isn't so good, considering I have constant anxiety), and bring up some worries and issues I need to quash.

Quash is a stupid word. Don't ever let me use it again.

I'm hoping to use the anxiety and turn it into success, professionally and personally. I don't want to get lost in the white noise, as I tend to.

I'm throwing myself headfirst into it. This may hurt.

And so, I wish you all a happy new year.

Whether a brand new year marks new beginnings for you, or if it's just another page on a calendar, I hope it serves you all well. For me it shows that time is passing quickly, and I need to make the most of it.

Kick some ass, really.

Since I didn't say it on the 31st, this is my cheers to you.

I'll raise a glass (of delicious beer, no doubt) to you and yours.

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