I've become keen on female-mom-humourists. It's a unique and rapdily growing demographic and I'll tell you, some of these moms are the most gut-wrenchingly hilarious women (people) I've ever read. My current favorite is The Bloggess, who is routinely marching on a thin thread of insanity but remains shockingly grounded - at least enough to remember where in her post she was.

Most of the time. Her content is provocative and silly, but she appeals to a massive, loyal following. What I think is particularly fantastic is that she, and many of the others in the list, are actually published literary contributors to magazines, newspapers, etc. and have figured out this perfect recipe of unapologetic edginess and hot relevance that have made them wildly popular. There's even an underground (well, not really, but that makes it sound so dramatic) group of similar bloggers that are routinely meeting up and collaborating. Oh, to be a fly on the wall in the room they occupy together.

I want to be a funny/witty/published mom. I wonder if I could be an apprentice. How does one stop writing like a corporate windbag and let the creativity flow? My proverbial wings need to be dusted off. I need Mr.Miyagi to show me something new and be inspired, to try and try some more.

Maybe it's cause I'm boring and all I do is work. Oh, and take care of my kid. And laundry. I do lots of laundry. Christ, I'm boring myself with this sentence. I need to get some relevance.

Until then, I'll worship The Bloggess.

Technology … there’s no future in it.

So I’m a bit peeved today. My Dell CPS 1210 bit the big one. It’s only a year and a half old. Luckily, unlike last time, I had everything backed up and am in the process of rebuilding the machine from scratch. So far, I’m 24 hours into it and have only had one blue screen of death experience since I reformatted.

On the upside, it’s given me a chance to try out SugarSync (www.sugarsync.com) on the advise of a colleague. It works well so far, but does take awhile to get everything sync’d. As I have no other machines in my network currently, I am just dumping files into the cloud. One day I may have something more sophisticated but for now, here we are.

The BIG frustration has been this %^&$#%^& external hard drive I bought last time my laptop died. After a few weeks, my machine failed to recognize it. Since then, I have had it replaced with no luck, and finally put it away for a year. I took it out after I rebuilt, hoping it would be all better since I had a fresh machine. Not so much. As it turns out, it’s a common problem with this drive and model, and apparently it’s a Vista issue. I’ve never had trouble with my other devices, so I am not so sure. It’s going to make me crazy.

In the midst of transferring files, I viewed a video from MIT’s Fluid Interface Lab on a new technology that would project data and an interface on any object and allow you to interact with it’s meta data using only natural motions. Very cool! Maybe there is a future afterall.

Back to pulling my hair out.

Welcome back, weary and elated soldier.

So, then. Haven't been back in awhile. So much has changed, most significantly the introduction of my success in one of those New Year's Resolutions I'd mentioned so many moons ago - I finally became a mom! Yes, in February 2008 I gave birth to a beautiful, gorgeous, happy baby girl named Parker. She's absolutely the most stunning child ever conceived and delivered, which I find really fortunate - imagine us having that honor!

What's most shocking is how much my perspective has changed after reading through those navel-gazing posts of yesteryear. For the last year, we've lived through this fog of baby-ness, on a crash course to understand just how to do the right thing, by the books, by the sites, by the other parents and the other parents' parents and everyone in between. It's shocking how much anxiety a new mom or dad endures around this little one. Of course, after a year of baby boot camp, I can smile knowingly like those smug women I hated while pregnant, certain I was going to be different and revolutionary in my approach. But, it's true. You just adjust, learn and reinvent yourself on a near daily basis.

I'm pleased with the change in perspective, not only because it means I have this tremendous little person to distract me, but because I was rather annoyed at myself for 'sweating the small stuff'. By one's early thirties, one becomes so familiar with oneself that the old begrudging challenges become old hat, but we have nothing else to focus on. Then baby comes and all of a sudden, we're thrown into survival mode and everything seems less important. Eventually, of course, this calms and we find our rhythm but by then those old issues are so ancient and have been locked away in the bottom drawer for so long that our motivation to take them out, and replace them in the To Do bin dwindles and dies. I don't have the energy to worry about something metaphysical any longer, and if I do have that energy, I'm certainly not going to waste it on convincing myself that there is something to be unhappy about.

There have been challenges, no doubt about that. Breastfeeding was a nightmare, and the judgmental women out there who have never had the experience of having to give it up prematurely, never will learn and will continue to trodden on the poor moms' already guilt-ridden conscience. I would love to educate more ladies about this. One of our health nurses, who evangelized breastfeeding and announced that noone should ever have to stop, recently experienced the same frustration and disappointment that we did with her first born and now must fundamentally shift her thinking. I would love to interview her and use her story to educate the population. I went through every remedy, including drugs and herbs, physical and mental stimulation, but to no avail. The greatest thing I learned was how to make peace with myself.

Additionally, I went back to work when my daughter was only seven weeks old. We had started a business the month before she was born, and it has been very successful. This means I was travelling alot to client sites and lugging around a breast pump. Picture me wedged into a ferry washroom cubicle, squeaking away with my pump while the boat swayed. Picture also reaching into the laptop bag for a new pen and dragging out a half-full bag of breast milk. No wonder that client never called back. Although it was challenging to return to work so soon, at the same time I think it may have been the right thing to do. I didn't ever have that transition period from SAHM status to re-engaging in the workplace. I do have the good fortune of working largely from home, as this was a business model we had chosen to pursue to provide opportunities to demographics that may not be able to find employers who support and embrace the remote worker model. In fact, this has become the gist of the work I am doing now - developing strategies around advanced communication and collaboration through business process development and capabilities development, to help forward-thinking companies realize the advantages of supporting what has been termed the 'punctuated worker'. This is an innovative concept, for sure, but much less far reaching than most executives expect. Come 2015, so many employees will be retired, organizations will have to find ways to provide new workers with the flexibility and lifestyle they require. Plus there are all the health-related implications, etc.

So, for now, all is well. My daughter is beautiful and well-mannered (although learning to assert herself daily), and we're trying for another. Hopefully it won't take much longer.

Wow, what have I become? Not a drop of sarcasm. I'll have to revisit that next posting.

I Resolve To Seek Resolution...

Here we are, end of December. How in the hell did this happen? How did we get from halfway through summer to here all of a sudden? My last post was almost two months ago. And here I had resolved to start blogging regularly. Which really shines a bright light on a more consistent problem. Let's see.. Post #1 had me resolving to exercise more regularly and work on my blogging. Post #2 had me resolving to spend more time with my husband. Post #3 I resolved to remain even-tempered and not respond to crappy people and their crappy attitudes. In Post #4 I became a teetotaller (wasn't that cute?).

It's year end, time for New Year's Resolutions. So, let's take stock. Not so much success on all fronts. However, I am determined to keep on pluggin away. Basically it seems that all I need to do is read my last four posts and voila, there is my list of resolutions. Pretty easy, huh?

New Year's Resolutions:

1. Drink less and eat healthy. Clearly I was still inebriated when I made that resolution back in November because there is no way you can live with a Maritimer and stop drinking. Or maybe I am just deflecting the responsibility to another party and really it's my own fault. Maybe. Probably. Regardless, it would be wise to try and cut back a tad, like maybe only a couple of glasses a day and no rye with lunch.
2. Exercise more regularly. OK, honestly.... I have put in a valiant effort. Am I where I should be? No. Have I made progress? Definitely. I even bought a gym membership and, heavens, even enjoy it. I joined a women's gym up here in Squampton and it's great. After my car accident, my back is really messed up so the controlled weights are good for rehab. I should be going more often, I should be less fat, but at least I'm going at once per week, which is a sight better than the hours I would spend thinking about going before. I resolve to attend the gym at least twice per week in the new year.
3. Be nicer to people. Actually, let me define that a little bit more. Be nicer to strangers. Strangers who are rude. I think I do an OK job of being nice to the people I know and respect. It's the morons out there who don't know me from Adam (what does that mean anyway?) that choose to be rude and obnoxious. I struggle so much to be nice back. But what if it made their day that someone was nice? Would it hurt me that much to try and lead by example?
4. Spend more time with my husband and friends. I'm a workaholic. I take too much responsibility for the things that need to be fixed. My new job and other responsibilities keep me busy and away alot. Since I work in one city and live in another, I spend 3 hours a day in my car, leaving little time to get out an enjoy myself. Maybe we need to move to the city, but that would hog our quality of life. We love it up here and that's the tradeoff. However, I can certainly carve away time on the weekends to pay attention to my relationships.
5. Read more and learn more. This is a hard one. After going to the gym, not drinking, being nice to people, and seeing those close to me, when I am not busy I am going to read. I have over ten books stacked up, waiting to be read. I earnestly want to and crave it, I know I need to expand my horizons and perspectives. Here's my solution: audio books. I have downloaded a number of books and they are available in high quality from audible.com. Since I spend 3 hours a day in my car, why not turn that into 3 hours of "reading"? My only concern is that I am going to have to listen to a narrator with a really annoying voice. What if she sounds like Latoya Jackson or something even worse? I'm going to give it a shot. So far, I have downloaded a couple of fiction books, a non-fiction commentary on modern religion and a couple of "Learn in Your Car" language series, although I am not certain how those are going to work as I tend to be more visual, but we'll see. What a limited franchise that would be though... Learn in Your Car: Cake Decorating. Or maybe Learn in Your Car: Popular Mechanics. I guess the humanities and such are more appropriate.. Learn in Your Car: How Capitalists Ruined the Modern World.
6. Get pregnant. Not sure if I need to expand on this one...I hesitate to include it as a personal resolution, given that I only have so much control over the results, and it's not something I can really do on my own. I just spent Christmas with my sister's family which includes an 18-month-old and a newborn and they really have their work cut out for them. I might say I'm a little less anxious to jump to it right away, but nonetheless will try. Practice makes perfect, and my husband is very intent on a rigorous practice regimen.

Geez. I have my work cut out for me. It's exhausting really. I wonder if I chose resolutions such as "Become independantly wealthy" or "Solve world hunger" if I would have more success? Like my hubby says, if there ain't no stakes in the poker game, noone's going to care about winning. Or some such thing. Essentially, if you've put nothing on the line, it's hard to put effort into achieving it. So I guess I need to have some skin in the game to be successful. It feels like I've already donated skin AND all my internal organs. It's just that there's no market for them. I think I need to become an entrepreneur and take more control of my schedule. See next year's resolutions.

Goodnight, dear diary.

Bad Behaviour Starts With A Bottle

I'm never drinking again. Ever. Ever, ever, ever, ever.

Maybe a glass of wine with dinner, or perhaps something nice to sip. But full on college-style? Nope. Not only am I 31 years old now - far too old to act so young - but my body and mind can't recover so well. What part of our brain goes off when it gets duped by alcohol? I mean, really. Must be some part that has to do with good judgment or maturity.

It's not really the drinking part that I have a a problem with per se - some people can enjoy the buzz and keep it all together. It's not the crazy sick feeling the next day - that definitely is a downer but can be tolerated with the memory of a really fun night. It's really the painful immaturity that overtakes me after a few that I can't handle the day after. I become an attention-crazy rendition of those girls I could never stand at bars. Or I become biting and sarcastic (more so than usual), alienating more than I probably even know about.

Either way, the outcome sucks.

We had a party last night - a little last hurrah for the wonderful company that used to be. A few years of nostalgia fuelled the cameraderie, and a few weeks of bitterness drove us to push the alcoholic envelope within a short period of time. We were gagging for it - a little release. I must say we did a superior job of making the office look like a historic slum... the carpets reek of beer, there are remnants of ash from various unnamed combustible substances peppered throughout the boardrooms, enough empties to start our own recycling plant, and unidentifiable foodstuffs ground in by so many heels. Classy. What's really overwhelming, though, is the musty, nauseating stench of old beer and sweaty smoke. Sick.

I recall a few activities that are really tearing at my heart strings, including wine bongs, beer chugging competitions, pole dancing on a door frame and so many terrible, embarrassing conversations. I may never regain my dignity. At least not in my mind. I understand everyone was on their game and had a few such moments, but I'm personally responsible for my own and feel quite disappointed to have let it all hang out. I was rewarded by a migraine and extreme fatigue today because of course when I got home I couldn't sleep from the spins. I think I watched an episode of Junk Brothers where they renovated a bed frame to make a bench but it had this really strange big mirror thing on the back and I found it really confusing. I found the instructions to make my instant soup pretty confusing as well so I guess that's saying something.

Anyway, from here on in it's sobriety and a stable exercise regime. No more college antics, no more hangovers. Straight and narrow, in shape, lots of sleep.

Right.

It's Not My Fault You Hate Your Job...

If you hate people, don't put yourself in a position where you have to talk to customers. Lock yourself in a basement and work on a research project that you've been dying to take on since third grade. Become a line worker in a quiet factory. Do something... just for heaven's sake get out of the line of fire that will inevitably come your way every time you have to heave yourself into the public eye and interact.

Not everyone is born social. Not everyone is born happy. Not everyone has communication skills. It's okay. I can accept that. The world turns because we are all different... well actually I think it has to do with some type of gravitational gobbeldygook but whatever.

However.

When you CHOOSE to apply for a job that requires social interaction, and you just know you're going to struggle, maybe it's best to rethink that. I have a knack for being served by those people who have chosen to make their lives more miserable in a customer-facing role. You know, the ones that look at you like you are the weight of the world and you're about to jump up on their shoulders to join the others that evidently already reside there. I'm not talking about shy people, or those who may be just a bit uncomfortable in a social situation. I'm talking about the downright nasty, miserable people who for one reason or another consider it an offense to be expected to smile or be courteous.

Let's discuss Ms. Front Desk from yesterday. Somehow the hotel's website had double-booked my reservation and as a result I showed up and Ms. F-D presented me with the keys for BOTH my rooms. When I explained to her that I didn't need two rooms, she proceeded to spit at me that I had MADE two reservations and that was that. I suggested that clearly there had been a mistake and since their website was delivering errors , perhaps there had been a problem there. Well Ms. F-D sighed heavily, rolled her eyes and stared at the room keys for the better part of five minutes, shaking her head all the while. Finally she said to me, pretending I was her pet terrier because that makes it so much easier for her, "Fine. I will cancel your reservation THIS TIME, but NEXT TIME..." at which point I stopped her and asked for clarification. "Next time? I'm sorry, but I am not sure this is really my fault..." and she interrupted with "THAT's why I am cancelling it THIS TIME, but NEXT TIME..." with a warning tone like she was punishing a kindergarten child.

Let's break this down. What could she have been deducing about the mistake? Clearly in her mind I had been bored on a Sunday afternoon and created not one, but two reservations on her website, grinning like the Grinch after a snowstorm, anticipating eagerly how much I was going to tick her off with my double reservations. I mean, it really doesn't get much better than that for me. Or maybe I was some political activist funded by CABW (Consumers Against Best Western) and this was another consumer terrorism tactic directed solely at her establishment.

Well really, who knows what she was thinking? All I know is that next time I tried such irresponsible tactics she wasn't going to let me off so easy. My friend suggested that I tell her "THIS TIME I will stay at this hotel, but NEXT TIME...". However, I am not as smart as him, nor as witty, and probably would have delivered it with the grace of a drunken casino player from down the street.

Next let's consider Ms. USA Airport Security and her little friend.

As I approached the USA security gates (you know, the area where they make you take off your shoes and look very serious as you empty your pockets and turn on your laptops to prove they still work), a young woman sat perched on a table looking extremely bored and smug. Beside her was a friend who, while dressed in a uniform similar to hers, was clearly on her dinner break as evidenced by the pile of fast food cartons and related litter sitting on the table beside her. Actually, I think Ms. USAAS was also chomping down on a burger when I approached. She considered me briefly, appearing about as insulted as possible with my inconsiderate breach of her snacking, and asked for my boarding pass and ID. I handed her my passport (which has expired but hasn't yet been replaced) and she looked at it, looked at me, looked at it, looked at me and then scrawled across my boarding pass "NO ID".

Well isn't that excellent? I could just imagine what would happen when I tried to pass with that. Hello, yellow alert, cavity search, maybe a dismantling of my luggage. I suggested to her that I did have ID, which she had just reviewed, and she said "It's expired!". We bantered a little bit about why that was even relevant, and she suggested it was actually illegal to carry (not true) and I said, "Well it's still me!". She spits at me "Well don't even show it to me!". Anyways, I asked her if she would like to see my other ID and her friend chimes in with a grimace "Oh, is that expired as well?". At which point I realized the gauntlet had been firmly placed on the ground and she had moved her unwilling body clearly across a line. I opened fire (against my better judgement) and explained with clarity exactly how I felt about their less than dismal attitudes and marched along without waiting for either of them to approve my admission.

Now let's contemplate Ms. USAAS. Perhaps she was feeling irritated because her blood sugar just rushed from the culinary masterpiece she was devouring. Maybe she was in the midst of a discussion about her 49-year old deadbeat boyfriend and his wife. Maybe she was too young and unworldly to realize how mature she could appear if she were even the slightest fraction of professional. Maybe noone around her cared. Maybe she didn't like my suit, or my shoes, or it made her feel big to make me look small.

Whatever the case, she made herself look foolish, but I suspect she didn't care. Certainly she and Ms. Burger Chomper had a sneer about it shortly after and confirmed that I was indeed a stupid beeyatch and they felt strong together for having a common enemy. Whatever the case may be, I hope they got something out of it for all the energy they expended being intolerable.

I have concluded that it takes more energy and strength of character to maintain an even keel and pleasant demeanour in the face of all circumstances. Those individuals who are able to master this talent usually become promoted into more senior positions that don't involve customer interaction and therefore the leftover position is filled by one of the Nasties.

I have also concluded that reacting to a Nasty really doesn't make me feel much better and in fact I kick myself later, realizing what a chump I was. But man it feels good at the time to just stick it to the man, or woman, or whatever.

Busload of Faith

I've been travelling all day. Well, it feels like it anyways. These one-day offsites in another country feel a little more than a commute. However, I am as equally impressed at the transportation infrastructure that allows me to put in a full day's work 1000 kms away and return home to my bed that night, as I am totally exhausted by it. So I'm tired, stuck in a construction road block and hungry. The perfect environment for a mushy brain, and that is precisely why I was contemplating the simplest sensory stimulation at that moment - the song playing in my CD changer. I didn't have to work for it, it presented itself to me whether or not I tried.

I remember one day my girlfriend got all excited while we were driving and turned up the radio to blast Sheryl Crow's Soak Up The Sun, chirping "Oh my gosh! This is totally my theme song!", and she looked like she had a whole brainful of memories that made that a perfectly reasonable assertion. Admittedly, I wasn't feeling it, as much as I dig Sheryl, and kind of rolled it over. But from that day I have always thought that I would like a theme song. Why couldn't I find a theme song? I tried SO hard to have one. You must know that DMAT sufferers can't have a theme song - they have many.

Anyway, tonight the song playing as I stared at the lightless hatch of the neighbouring Saab was Busload of Faith - a live rendition by Lou Reed. Well I tell ya, something about it - maybe Lou's nonplussed muttering, maybe the stick-it-to-the-man bass line, maybe the surrendering tone of the lyrics - made it my theme song tonight. Yep, you need a busload of faith, sister. A whole busload. That's lots. That's like 40 screaming kids worth of faith. I shook my head at the dry resolve of Lou's words as if I could see him doing it too. The only thing, Lou, that will make me finish this drive home is my busload of faith. You know, it. Sing it for me. Uh huh, you know I feel you, brother.

So I got to thinking... what would I say to Lou if I actually met him in person? Would I be totally cool and collected cause, you know, he's just another guy? I think he'd respect me if I just pulled up a chair for him beside me at the picnic table, offered him one of my cigarettes and continued to stare straight ahead of me, contemplating whatever I was deep in thought about before he interrupted me. Letting him join me for a little while, but on my terms. I think he'd respect that. It's a nice fiction... except I don't smoke. And I probably wouldn't recognize him on the street anyways.

Maroon 5 is playing now. Live, unplugged. They do a version of Closer (Nine Inch Nails) that is pretty different. What would I say to Adam Levine if I met him? Actually, I thought I did see him today at the Portland Airport. Of course. Because that's totally where he would be... sitting in some dumpy airport bar swigging back Coors Lite. Alright, Self, I'll play this game with you for a little while longer. Adam Levine. I would say to him, "Yeah, hey... I really dug that video with Kelly Preston. The whole Mrs. Robinson thing - nice story line." I'm so interesting. It's shocking that anyone can bear a conversation with me for more than a minute.

OK ... Madonna. She's on now. I wouldn't be able to help myself. I would fall at her feet. Maybe not because she is such an amazing songstress with deep and moving lyrics, but because her business acumen and her ability to actually start new fashion trends is mind-boggling and worthy of some kind of material girl respect. Seriously, she's got this crazy tuned eye for what everyone's dying to make the next bit thing. And then she just does it in this no-nonsense, why should I apologize for anything fashion. Not that I am particularly trendy or fond of trendy things, but I'm pretty interested (in a stamp collecting kind of way) in popular culture and the forces that drive it. Rarely is a single individual capable of manipulating an entire industry all on her own. But she does it. She's not scared of it. Of course she has abs like the side door of my car so I wouldn't stand in her way either. So Madonna would render me a silly shrinking violet.

Next we have... uh... this isn't my fault. Poison - Every Rose Has Its Thorn. I think it can stop there. I don't need to imagine talking to Ce Ce and the boys because I am not sure they can even talk, or if they do it will be in some high, squeaky voice because their neon green and black striped pants are way too tight.

My legs are shaking because I am so exhausted. I was up at 5 am in my ghetto hotel (my next post may be about CRAP customer service), flew to Portland, worked all day, got forced into a filet mignon dinner with my client, flew back to Van and then drove for an hour and a half home. Tomorrow morning I have to leave again to drop the hubby off at the airport. We are trying really hard to never see each other since we got married (my next next post will be about how awesome it is to be married).

We'll see if my busload of faith can help me get up in 5 hours to drive back down to the city.