keeping it classy

It's not often we're lucky enough to catch a glimpse of our co-worker's true feelings for us. Today, that fortuitous moment came for me when a co-worker (a 37 year old adult child) inadvertently sent an email about me....to me. It could not have come at a more perfect time considering the fact that I'm on my way out the door in t minus three work days. I'll let the email correspondence speak for itself, for fear I'll say too much and might sour its brilliance.

And now, for your enjoyment....Take a peek at the glorious inner-workings of a corporate environment.

I chose not to respond to her last bit of correspondence. I know I'm not always successful in my endeavor, but I feel as though it's important to keep it classy as much as and whenever possible. To me, seeing this was on the one hand completely hysterical, and on the other- a little disheartening. I hope I don't sound bitter in talking about this strange little passing of events

because that's not at all the case.

Receiving the aforementioned unsolicited email was a great lesson for me. I've always been a people pleaser, have wanted people to like me and would always go to great lengths to ensure that that happened. It's taken me a long time to realize that you can't please everyone and not everyone is going to like you- no matter what you do. And you know what? I'm okay with that.

words of wisdom from the cube

Leaving a post that I've been guarding for four years feels completely surreal and I still can't quite get my head around the fact that I will actually, literally be leaving. For the next installment of blog posts, I'll be dredging up the past to tell stories of my co-workers, my routines, and my life within these dilapidated cubicle walls.

I've spent much of my morning today going through drawers and packing up cube flair so that I might leave the office unfettered on my final day next week. Each picture brings up a memory, each note- a crestfallen laugh. Taped all around my computer are the below quotes, which have shepherded me through my journey here:

No coward soul is mine,
No trembler in the world's storm-troubled sphere:
I see Heaven's glories shine,
And faith shines equal, arming me from fear.
-Emily Bronte

Search others for their virtues, thyself for they vices.
-Benjamin Franklin

In order to be irreplaceable, one must always be different.
-Coco Chanel

The tragedy of life is not so much what men suffer, but rather what they miss.
-Thomas Carlyle

Silly things do cease to be silly if they are done by sensible people in an impudent way.
-Jane Austen

Find something you're passionate about and keep tremendously interested in it.
-Julia Child

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It's funny how quotes I've accumulated from my Franklin-Covey planner through the years flow so seamlessly to one absolute truth: Live honest, live humble, live well- and lead a life with no regrets.

productivity levels are tanking....

I'm exaggerating, obviously. Anyone who knows me knows that I come from hard-working Eastern European stock and will work my tail off to the bitter end. I think it's important to walk away from something knowing that I gave it my all and can leave with my head held high.

That being said, my attention started to fade during a meeting I had this morning. I blame it on six shots of espresso-- and no, this time I'm not exaggerating.

I started remembering what Brett said a few days ago about barbecuing chicken while I was at yoga. Puff and Pi were all over him like zombies- so delicious was the smell of the cooking flesh. Before I knew it, my notes turned into the below:

pluto got screwed

My girlfriend Kristin and I were partaking of a celebratory lunch at Q'doba (more on the reasons for celebrating later...) and the discussion of starfish came up. I'm not sure how we start talking about the things we do, but that's not the point. Apparently starfish are no longer actually called starfish, but rather seastars? When did this happen and why did I not get the memo? Why are we renaming things? Is "starfish" really that confusing of an appellation?

This got me to thinking about Pluto. I know it's not breaking news that Pluto is no longer a planet, but this is in the same vein as changing something's name... Here we are giving Pluto this awesome "planet" badge, and then we rip it off his chest. Isn't that kind of like Jay Leno taking back The Tonight Show? Let's all take a moment for Pluto.

planning ahead to live in the moment

I breeze through the days, sheltered in the eye of a hurricane. Life spinning around me so quickly that everything has blurred…nothing has clarity or weight but instead simply floats in and drifts by before it can actually resonate.

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I'm definitely thinking I bit off more than I can chew in taking a second job-- my lack of updates only a testament to this fact. Obviously, I've always been a busy body. Now this busy bodiness has grown to epic proportions. With that being said, I think it's time to evolutionize the nature of my blog. As you all know, I have a proclivity to bloviate. Unfortunately for me, bloviating takes time (of which I have precious little.) So henceforth, I will modify my posts to be quips, observations, and Cliff's Notes on my day.

I wouldn't want you all to forget about me! More importantly, I don't want to forget about myself....

making lists on a rainy day

I find that when I’m down, it sometimes helps to make a list of things to perk me up. I can’t say that this was something that I came up with on my own, however. I’ll never forget in AP World Literature my senior year in high school when we read “The Pillow Book” by Lady Sei Shonagon, a courtesan during the Heian era in Japan. Miss Shonagon’s book was a mostly personal endeavor (akin to a diary) comprised of lists and musings on court life and her counterparts. In any case, one of our assignments was to come up with our own lists…an activity I’ve embraced ever since.

The general mood of the office is one of thick malaise, hanging heavy on my shoulders like a burly winter coat. The air outside is also heavy—suffused with melancholy, pregnant with laziness, and ripe with rain—weighing on my soul like a sopping wet blanket.

While there is no doubt that happiness truly comes from within, there’s no harm in giving your mood a nudge in the right direction with a little homage to those simple creature comforts. My many thanks to Sei for her keen inspiration.


Things that make my heart beat faster

A cup of tea
A brand new outfit
Posy coloured blush
Quatchi
Humming La Vie En Rose
Reciting the Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock by TS Eliot
Curling up in my Snuggie
The last five minutes of my Bikram yoga practice
Penguins
Kumquat Dry Soda
A scalding hot bubble bath with a glass of wine and a trashy magazine to keep me company
Receiving packages in the mail
The smell of Spring
Eating candy from the bulk bins while grocery shopping
Puff and Pi
Earl Grey Soy Lattes with a dollop of caramel sauce
Red eye flights
Dateline murder mysteries
Listening to a thunderstorm from under the covers
Kind strangers


Please note this is by no means a complete or immutable list.

The Arrival

She greets me like an old time-honored friend—quietly waiting, ever sweet in her immutability. Victoria is quite possibly my favorite accessible luxury. She heals me of my quotidian woes with her quaint meandering streets, majestic architecture and serene harbour. I always sense that I’m in a brighter, squeakier and happier reality when I visit.

The journey began with my alarm bleating at 5:30 in the morning. This time I didn’t groan and flop over indignantly but rather popped up cheerfully and set about preparing for our much anticipated min-break. A taxi arrived as the sun began peering tentatively through the clouds and we were on our way toward Pier 69 amongst the sleepy Friday commuters.

Much to my chagrin a large group of bleary eyed high schoolers stood loitering out in front of the Clipper entrance huddled in groups of twos and threes in fleece blankies. Fortunately, it was far too early for them to be chatting so they proved to be relatively innocuous when it came to upsetting the peaceful hum of my holiday morn.

Everyone patiently filed aboard the Clipper. A high-speed catamaran, the Clipper is a passenger ferry that whisks you away to the outer reaches of the Pacific Northwest (specifically for me: Victoria, BC). Once on board, Brett and I always scramble to the upper deck to procure a section of middle seats, settle in and then promptly order two little lunch-box sized bottles of Freixenet. This go around, our in-flight attendant was so thrilled that I had given her my newest issue of “Us Weekly” she bestowed upon us an extra two bottles, on the house. As we cruised at a speed of 30 knots through the Strait of Juan de Fuca, I passed in and out of consciousness—painting my nails and reading my Nook during the conscious bits.

We arrived two and one half hours after our departure to a crisply cool, sun-soaked Canadian morning. Fortunately, we had no checked luggage so we were able to de-board immediately and breezed through customs. Ambling through those too familiar streets, winding kindly through the quaintness of Victoria, I felt home at last.