Meet the Crew

Talking about voices in your head can get a little alienating, am I right?  We're all picturing Ginny Weasley with Tom Riddle telling her to kill chickens?  Or maybe a little Haley Joel Osment seeing dead people. Whichever it is, it's crazy face.

Buuuuut I've already started talking about them, so we might as well ride that train.  When I talk about voices, I don't mean that there are actual external forces talking to me.  I don't hear specific voices and words.  I mean the voices that everyone has - the instincts, or conscience, or whatever else you want to call them.  My voices are loud.  Doctor's call them, "Intrusive Thoughts".  I call them Barbara.  This (reasonably) creeps Steven out, so I don't do it often.

Dopplegangers, Sitcom Style

I don't think of myself as an overly positive person.  When I said this to a relatively new friend, she laughed.

It's been said, if you want to truly know a person, find their tv doppleganger.  It has come to my attention that I have such a doppleganger.  While it's a bit ridiculous, I'm okay with it, because, well...it's me.

I mean, she loves Christmas, she loves waffles, and she's pretty intense.  And also blonde.  You get the picture.

Backsliding, or The Hunger Games

There's the sort of hunger that aches in you, when your stomach is so empty it feels like it's collapsing in on itself.  Being hungry like that used to make me feel like this:

I don't feel that hunger very often, but I woke up with it today.  It doesn't make me feel like Jafar any more.  It makes me feel sad, and a little confused.

I've been having a bit of a moment.  We are going on a vacation, a beach vacation, in one week. We've been talking about it for ages and I am veeeery excited.  But I tried on my bathing suit last night and I felt a bit icky.

The Face of OCD, and Pie

Isn't it fun to post pictures of ourselves?

New Idea: For every flattering picture you post of yourself on social media, you must post an equal and opposite unflattering photo.  Methinks that would curb the selfie epidemic.

I'm Sobbing Now

I cry a lot less than I used to.  

This is nice.  We spend way less on Kleenex, and I find way fewer snot stains on my clothes.  As does Steven.  

But this, well, this had me sobbing after the first line.  I realize at its heart it's a love story, which is beautiful, but for me, it feels a bit autobiographical.  Please watch it. 

Things that make my head quiet:

Looking at pictures of my nieces and nephews.
My friends saying they think my breathing tics are cute.
Steven scratching my head.

Love is not a mistake.

Shmanniversary

Get it?  Because it's a post about my anniversary but I feel weird being mushy.  So I put Shma at the beginning to make it insincere.  Like a 5-year-old.

Which, incidentally, is our marriage!  A 5-year-old, that is.

Photo Credit: Dan Fortin

So.  Our marriage.

7 Days

-Nothing makes me happier than watching my sister and her kids walk down my office hallway, in height order, with big smiles on their faces.

-Apparently, Summer Shantini has been living it up, because she couldn't fit into Spring Shantini's pants yesterday.

-My parents came to watch the fireworks.  In the past month they've been to a show of mine, seen my new office and been to our beach.  It's nice to have them in my world.

I Don't Have the Willpower

There is a statement I've heard over and over from women:

"I could never be anorexic.  I don't have the willpower". 

Usually it comes with a tone of defeat or envy, even though it's a joke.  Sort of.

This is a reeeeeal bummer.

Camping

After my 3D Movie Victory, I thought camping would be a piece of cake.

It wasn't.

Two steps forward, one step back, I guess.

Whatever.

photo credit Melanie Wickes

3D Movies and Rockstardom

This is me, looking like a badass.

Why, you ask?  Why do I look so tough and awesome?

I went to a 3D movie.

Toughest

When do you feel your toughest?

It was a question posed in an episode of WireTap on a looooong road trip to Yellowstone to visit my sister, who daily toughs it out as a stay-at-home-Mom of two. (the stamina! the patience! the poop!)

I posed the question to my facebook friends.  Some of the answers were about physical work.  Some were about protecting loved ones.  Here are some more:

-After doing home improvements, all by myself. With a power drill.

-When I let out a really big fart
-When I am politely but firmly standing up to a curmudgeonly, jaded venue tech who not-so-secretly thinks girls shouldn't run shows (from a female stage manager)

-When I swear at children
-When I'm carrying my purse, a full diaper bag, a one year old, a bag full of clothes, pushing a stroller full of groceries, with a 3 and 5 year old in tow through a locked door by myself.

I love it.

Most Precious Thing

It's my Sweet Niece's 5th birthday today.

I went to her ballet recital last weekend...when she was still 4.  She's in 'pre-ballet', but wants to try hip-hop next year.  The recital cost $12 and it was in an Arts Centre.  It was assigned seating.  There were video clips!  Of superheroes! And a fog machine!  And big kids!  Serious business.

Dear Girl was on the stage for about 90 seconds, as she pointed her toes and paraded around the stage in her leotard and tutu, following in a line behind her teacher.  It was a Dora-themed number.  I grinned and grinned.

Small Town

I was feeling nostalgic, so I bought the t-shirt.

I grew up in a Small Town.  There was a bank and a pizza place, and four churches.  A tiny MCC.  An insurance office.  And a unit on the corner of the one three-way-stop, that since the antique place closed down, has changed hands every time I drive by. My parents live in the house I grew up in, and my sister and her family four houses down from them.

Running

I hate it.  Running, that is.  And frankly, most other things that would constitute exercise.  I like to dance, and walk, and play with my nieces and nephews - but generally not tag, because it includes the aforementioned running.

I will not bore you with tales of being bad at sports and picked last in PE class.  What I will say is that this fostered such a deep sense of shame within me that any physical activity in front of another human being became completely humiliating.  All I've ever thought is that if I ever have to run for a ball, everyone will stare at me and think about how slow and stupid and fat and pathetic I am.  The thought of it has reduced me to tears on more than one occasion.  I think it might be how some people feel when they're asked to do public speaking...but I can't be sure.

Do's and Don'ts of Cover Letters From an Unqualified Source

I know first hand searching for a job is tough. It can be overwhelming and time-consuming, and I'm 100% sympathetic to that. And, in all honesty, I've committed several of the 'don'ts' on this list in the past. So here's the deal:

1) This list is completely subjective.
2) I am not an expert - but I did read about 140 résumés for two positions last month, and 60 is about the average number I get for most positions.
3) All of the examples are 100% real, except for the names.

Ladies and Gentlemen, I give you:

Do's and Don'ts of Cover Letters, Résumés, and Interviews From an Unqualified Source

Do ensure you're applying for the Vancouver Fringe Festival, NOT the Vancouver Fridge Festival.

Fresh Lemonaaaaaade

Two kids hollered at me - the lone person walking down our street - for six blocks before I finally got there. "Fresh Lemonaaaaaaaade!"  When I finally arrived at their table, laden down from my trip to the produce store, they got shy until I asked them how much it was.  Fresh may not have been the best descriptor, but at 25 cents, you can't beat the deal.  I asked them what they were going to spend the money on.  "Toys and candy".  

My Bakery

I'd like to have a bakery one day.

Maybe a pie shop - you could come in and buy it by the slice and sit in little booths, a la the Pie Hole in Pushing Daisies.  There would be ice cream and whipped cream - lots of fruit pies, but also mud pie and chocolate silk and definitely lemon meringue.  And the Five Try Pie.  It's near impossible to buy a good pie these days.

Or maybe just a regular bakery with a cute name, maybe something French.  I would learn how to make croissants like they do at the Metropolitan Hotel.  There would be lots of chocolate mousse, and good cookies (not crazy ones, just good).  And nanaimo bars, because, seriously.  Joy's scones, obviously.  And perhaps I could steal the sausage roll recipe from Maple Leaf Bakery.  They are impossibly good.

People would like to come in to my bakery.  It would feel homey and welcoming, and you could have as much time as you needed to decide, because sometimes decisions are hard.  We would also not take ourselves too seriously, because really, it's just dessert.  But seriously enough that everything is perfectly delicious.  Every recipe is just right.  Every bite is the best bite.  Sometimes we make whatever we feel like that day.  Sometimes we're closed because we're on vacation.  We would have specials, and sometimes give things away for free to our favourite customers.

The desserts would not always look perfect, but people wouldn't care because they were soooooo good.  We would burn through so. much. butter.  I would always have flour in my hair.

12 Food Confessions

1. Some days (like today) you just need to eat doritos for dinner
2. I don't understand someone being a 'salty' person or a 'sweet' person.  I am both persons.  DON'T MAKE ME CHOOSE.
3. I love the feeling of an empty stomach.  I have been addicted to those hunger pains.  The hardest meal for me to eat is the first of the day.  Often on days off it's well into the afternoon before I make myself eat.
4. I hate avocados.  Like, really hate them.  I've tried them a bunch since the Avocado Onslaught of 2012 and I think they're disgusting.
5. I am a food enabler - I encourage people to eat food that's bad for them, partly because I like people to enjoy themselves, and partly because it makes me feel better when other people eat badly.
6. I think the best dessert in the world is the perfect chocolate mousse.

7 Years...

...and not itchy.  Not even a little bit.

Today, Steven and I have been together for seven years.  To give you some perspective, that's 26% of my life.  This morning when my alarm went off, he not-too-subtly bolted out of bed while I waited for my second alarm, left the house, then came home and demanded I get back into bed so he could serve me breakfast, while loudly singing a made-up song at me.  

When I said I needed to get ready to catch the bus, he said, "Oh, you think you're taking the bus?  You're not taking the bus, ya bird brain.  You're such a bird brain".  Which he thought was hilarious.  And then he got up and drove me to work.

My friend recently said about marriage, "It's about feeling like you're lucky to be with the person.  You should both feel like the other person is a little too good for you".  She's a smartie. 

So in the spirit of seven years, I have for you a love song!  If you're not familiar with Kid President or Lennon and Maisey, check them out here and here.  Otherwise, enjoy this gem of a ditty.  Ya bird brain.

Happy or Right

I really hate this post.

There is a long, convoluted story about why I'm writing it, involving a movie that hit a little too close to home and me dissolving in sobs at the end as a baffled husband comforted me, but here's the punchline...

I like to be right.

I'm pretty good at arguing.  I think that's what you get from two smart older sisters - training.  It always feels like a challenge to me, to find the logic and support my point of view.  And in fact, it's pretty cool to be able to dissect and analyse things to come to the 'right' conclusions.  It makes me feel smart, and powerful.  It makes me feel like this:

Which is pretty awesome...unless you're the wall.

The Language of Anorexia

I read a really interesting article from the TEDblog this week about how the grammatical idiosyncrasies of the different languages we speak modify how we think.  It's a really quick read found here, but I'll give you a an example in an excerpt...

"In English, we’ll often say that someone broke a vase even if it was an accident, but Spanish and Japanese speakers tend to say that the vase broke itself...English speakers were much more likely to remember who accidentally popped balloons, broke eggs, or spilled drinks in a video than Spanish or Japanese speakers." 

Fascinating, right?  It got me thinking about the misunderstandings, miscommunications and cultural differences that cause us to inadvertently hurt each other.   It took me a really long time to understand that Steven and I were speaking different languages when it came to food.  To him, it's just food.  No emotional attachment, just something he does to keep his body running, and something he sort of enjoys.  To me, it's about a zillion times more complicated.  He would innocently make comments to me that I thought were so hurtful until we sorted it out.

And in that spirit, I bring you...

The Language of Anorexia

Said: Wow, you eat fast!
Heard: You are a giant pig, you fatty-fat face.  You disgust me.  You can't wait for one more second to shove that food into your big fat face?  You are gross.

Said: Did you eat the last brownie?
Heard: You couldn't help yourself but to hoover down that brownie into your big fat mouth, could you?  You are selfish and you have no self control.

Said: Are you hungry?
Heard: You probably always want to eat because you're such a chub.  

I sincerely wish I could say these examples are hyperbole, but they are truly, honestly the things I hear.  In the middle of a perfectly pleasant conversation, all of the sudden I feel about an inch tall: humiliated, ashamed, defensive, hurt.

There is no way that we can anticipate what every one's languages and sensitivities are.  I think it's foolish to even try.  But maybe even recognizing that they're there can help us understand each other a little better.  To be more careful with our words.  And maybe to ask the people that we love if we are quietly hurting them, or to speak up when we're being hurt.

What's your language?

Shop Talk

When actors run into each other, we ask the question, "What've you been up to"?  Other variations are, Are you in anything right now, Anything coming up, or Did you hear who got cast in...

And my answer to these questions is...nothing, nope.

I'd like to say that this was a choice I made for myself, but that wouldn't be entirely true.  It would be what some people might refer to as 'a lie'.

The fact is, I made a choice a couple of years ago not to audition for anything that I wasn't getting some monetary compensation for, unless there was a really, really, really great reason to go for it.  I felt like this decision was best for me in trying to move my performing career forward.  The result, of course, is that I go to far fewer auditions, and (logically) I get far fewer parts.  In fact, in the last 11 months, no parts.  And each part that I didn't get devastated me, and I've ended up ugly-crying on the couch in my yoga pants, wondering what's wrong with me, analyzing every moment of every audition, kicking myself for things I did or didn't do.

Family Day

Instead of a bunch of writing today, I'm just going to show you some crappy iPhone pictures of what we did for BC's first Family Day.  There was also a lot of Battleship and foosball and snacking.  Rock on, families.

Quote of the Week: The Board

These are tricky days, friends.

This Quote of the Week comes from a board member at my work.  We were talking about the board members' role in the organization, and she said,

"We should be the Keepers of the Dream and the Lovers of the Vision"

She, in case you couldn't tell, is awesome.

We are going through some changes at work.  One of our beloved friends and colleagues is moving on to greener pastures (German Pastures, actually) and it means shifting things around post-haste.  I am blessed to work with wonderful people whom I love (really) and trust, and I know it will sort itself out, but I struggle with change.

Nope, let's rephrase that.

I HATE change.

It makes me feel like this.

Anorexia Unwrapped: I

Click here for Part 2!

Anorexia is hard to talk about, and it sounds so serious and weird.  It doesn't wrap up nicely in one blog post.  It doesn't have a beginning, a middle and an end.  And it CERTAINLY doesn't have a denouement.  If this topic gives you this face:

Then ignore this, and go check out some s'mores-related recipes on Pinterest and join us later for an adorable cake.  

Sensitivity Training

OCD has become a pretty commonly used term.  It's thrown around a lot in pop culture to describe peoples' pet peeves, or someone who is meticulous about order or cleanliness, as in, "I'm really OCD about my coffee, I have to prepare it in a certain way", or, "Don't let her catch you with water near the keyboard. She's totally OCD".  Sometimes, to explain my odd behaviours, I'll say, "Sorry, I have OCD, so that's why I'm...(insert weird thing like hyperventilating, stomping my feet or ripping my jacket off) and I'll get the response, "Oh, I get it, I'm totally OCD, too.  I hate germs". I try not to get too bothered about this stuff - I know people aren't trying to be hurtful or insensitive, but to be honest, but it has a way of minimizing the daily difficulty of living with the disorder.  In addition to that, it creates a real challenge to be open and share when I feel like I have to legitimize the problem.  I'm certain that this is only misunderstanding and not intentional ignorance, so here we go.  Let's start understanding!  Check out this (really awesome) excerpt from the Canadian Mental Health Association...

I Pet a Dog

I pet a dog the other day.

I pet a dog!

I was at a relative's house, and a little dog jumped up on my chair.  I stared at it for a couple of minutes.  It was one of those tiny, super ugly dogs whose teeth stick out and overlap each other (I did try to find a picture of the breed to post here, but googling 'ugly dog' is incredibly disturbing and I had to stop).  I'm pretty sure it was taunting me.  And then I pet it.

Quote of the Week: Desiderata

Guys.  I'm really, so excited about this one.  I stumbled across this poem this week and I couldn't stop thinking about it.  I would encourage you to read the whole thing, but if you are lazy (like me) and you don't feel like reading a whole, entire poem, just read the bold parts, especially the last two.  It is so worth your while.  Except for the part about loud and aggressive persons, ignore that bit.

Desiderata
By Max Ehrmann

The Elephant in the Room

Confused?  Check out the background HERE.

Explaining this stuff is hard.

It's so overwhelming and the information is all intertwined and confusing.  It's hard to know where to start.  It's difficult not to start every sentence with "It's".

Here I Am

I've been blogging my baking and cooking over here at The Pinterest Trials.  Since most of my new recipes have been from Pinterest, it makes sense.  I contribute the first weekend of every month, and it's been great for keeping track of my projects and any adjustments I do to recipes.  You can also find Pinterest recipes and projects that I've tried HERE.

I haven't been baking much lately.