I can't f-feel my f-fingers

I'm so ccccold here in facking m.dot.... My parents keep the thermostat at around 17 degrees and wear a goddamn jacket around the house. Lol asians in montreal. So here i am with my cardigan and scarf, freezing. I wouldn't even type if not for the area heater thats sitting right in front of me now. I didn't want to take my hands out of my pockets the whole morning. I sure hope i don't need to poo or pee anytime soon.

So I left my job, I feel happy and relieved in general, but it hasn't really sunk in yet, and i know precisely what time it will start sinking in, i.e. tuesday morning the day i would normally be at work. Then i will probably put on some boomboom music, pour myself a celebratory whiskey and wiggle wiggle wiggle wiggle wiggle yeah.

(I just turned a quarter of a turn so i could get toasted evenly.)

Hopefully find something suitable soon. Got biiiills to paaaaay.

whoa guys I just had the most craziest day at work ever

All I'm gonna say is the most dramarama that I've ever seen or heard in a professional setting, happening to yours truly.

i can smell that last straw it is close.

Everyday I'm Shuffling

Every evening I leave work with my work-in-progress file folder, so I can do some reading or some light review work at home.

Every morning I pick up my purse near my door, with the same file folder intact and untouched from the night before, on my way back to work. I don't know why I still kid myself every evening and bother bringing the file back.

On my way to work, I use roughly 6 minutes to imagine what it would be like to win the lottery. After I pass by the lottery booth (another 6 minutes left!) I can't help but think about the to-do list and reaffirm to myself that, since I didn't win the lottery this week, they will be completed.

"I'll be extra efficient today and go through all that in the morning, leaving my afternoon open for the conf call".


Obviously reality begs to differ. The doremish hamster runs in the wheel again, and again and again.

Anyhow, while the long term plan of getting out of the rat race is still under development, I need to take care of what is going to happen in the next few weeks first. My hectic month is ahead, now that we are getting pretty close to closing date for the condo. I need to find a tenant, fix my blinds in my condo, pack and take care of about a gazillion little things while keeping my sanity at a workplace that demands about 45+ hours of my week.

I don't know how that is going to work out, but it'll have to... :(

...with the next exhalation, let go...

Being Grown Up, 1983 style.

I'm 28 already, and my mom had me (her second kid) around my age. It's so hard to imagine that people born a mere generation ago, are usually married with kids by the time they are my age. Is it just me? Or are we actually an entire generation of late bloomers?

A few things in life makes me feel uncomfortably "grown up". Say, for example, the title "manager". When I think of a manager, I think of the pointy-haired-boss in Dilbert. I'm so completely unmanagerial - perhaps it's because I haven't grown into my role, or something, but it is one of those things that make me wonder if I should be more mature than I am now. Especially when every time my own pointy-haired-boss speak to me, every sentences must start with "At this level now, you are expected to..."

Well. Gee. Keep expecting.

What are the managers expected to be like, out there in the industry? Note that I'm not talking about accounting firms, where really no one cares what you do as long as you put in 60 hours a week and get your shit done. Out there, on the almighty Bay Street (which was poorly occupied by that Occupy movement, epic fail Toronto protesters), here's the general blanket desired profile, based on my observation.

They are responsible people, they know to do and say the right thing. Preferably family people, or married, shows that they are settled and know commitment. They can gather up people when people are clowning around too much and herd them back into the right direction. They are usually smart at least at something, but are able to share relevant insight or seemingly great ideas, and can crack a few politically correct golf or car related jokes. They never run, or hop - they walk. They own a Blackberry.

Weeeell let's look at how I, circle, fit into manager, square. I still make poop jokes. I make sounds like "huhuhuhuh", sometimes in my head and sometimes not, when I read a funny name on a business card (Mr. Assman, huhuhuh). I still skip when I walk around on the street. I hate and do not own a Blackberry. At work, I always have to try really hard to suppress my tendencies to clown around and think of immature and politically-incorrect jokes. But without that personality I'm just a boring, and bored, existence in the room.

Deep down inside, I know that it's probably not a matter of growing into a role, or anything like that - I simply do not have the personality trait that fits the typical manager image companies look for - not in my industry anyway. The whole "at this level"-expectations are largely restrictive on the way I act normally and naturally...

And this is probably just how the Workplace is. And this is where you should, I guess, compromise.

So why bother putting in more than 7.5 hours a day pretending to be someone that I am not? Give me a 9-5 job. Give me a role right below Manager. And let me have the lack of exposure because it means at least, I get to act like who I am, and feel a bit less like a sell-out...

the grind

I made some serious kickass beef stew last night and it just made my lunch-eating-at-desk a lot more bearable.

==================

On my walk to work today I was pondering about the reason why I ended up where I was - walking to work and dreading the arrival. It is hitting me more now due to my daily dealing with wealthy individuals heading into their retirement. It's obvious that people think success is how high you climb up the ladder and how much you end up with in your pocket... and success is synonymous with happiness. I think we're all just aiming to one day be the envy of other families talking about us during their dinner, and we're convinced that to achieve that you have to pay your dues now. One day one day.

One day I'll wake up 40 years old, as an upper-middle-management, and still complaining about the same shit as today. I have no idea what happened to my ambitions - I hate the rat race, the sucking up, the face times and the optics. It looks like everyone else hates it too and yet we're all attending networking events and talking to the douches (as my friend A says, those that go "Hi I'm Reginald from Merril Lynch").

What I could was to get into this rat race and safely earn moolah, which I did, as most sensible people. What I wanted to do (freelance graphics or something other artsy-fartsy or techy stuff) will in no way guarantee me income or success or happiness.

I have no solution whatsoever - having a stable income provides me with the basic needs of food and shelter, and a certain lifestyle, I can't go back to learning the fun stuff and going entry-level. In the mean time pride pushes me along - you get there just because you don't want to be left behind when all your friends move up.

I think this is how those Bitter Female Managers came to be.

on those wacky lists people come up with.

So as part of my job deals with people who are in their 60s – 70s and that have been married for a gazillion years. One of things we do is that we look up how many years they’ve been married and congratulate them or something, you know, year 25 is the silver anniversary, year 40 is the ruby anniversary and the like, and people are supposed to give each other rubies and stuff.

So I’m looking up this one who’s in their 44^th year and what do I see as “modern gifts”? Groceries. REALLY?! Fourty-four goddamn years and all you get is a bag of rubatagas? How do you go from ruby to groceries... apparently a bunch of jewelers or librarians came up with the list. They must be pretty drunk at number 44.

////

Speaking of groceries, I dreamt I was in the world's most luxurious buffet ever last night. Live seafood everywhere you can choose from and fresh mushrooms you pick from the tree trunks. Clams from as small as a penny to as big as my head with pearls that come with it. I woke up before I got to eat anything though :/ 

Disadvantages of vacays

Those vacays you come back and feel like you need another vacay from your vacays... those that take a toll on you instead of making you feel rested (and sometimes even, eager to get back into work/school/whatever sh*t you were complaining about before you left).

So I came back from one of those one that seem to suck away your energy. And then work sucks away my energy... and i'm going through this phase of hermitage as means of giving myself treats. And the more I stay in my condo the more I like it. I'm turning into a cat lady.

Countdown to Asia and Miscellaneous

I caught up finally with my bro Alex after not seeing him for more than a year (case in point of how horrible I am at keeping in touch). What did he ask me when we sat down at the pub? "Hmmm by the way... what's your boyfriend's name?" It's just one of those wow, who the hell are you kind of moment - like he's close to me, but I've not seen him for so long that he seemed like a stranger.  Anyhow I miss the good old days when we used to hang out together a lot more, in Montreal.

My next job, I'm going to make sure I'm not working with Asian females. They are loads of fun and the nicest people, but they're also reeeeeally hardworking. I want to be the one with the most work ethics in my group, goddammit.

I bought a curling iron the other day, meaning to try and curl my hair up all pretty and nice. Little did I know it takes patience (my genetic defect) and involves some thought process around how to part your hair to best uniformly curl it. So I do what everyone does when they need to learn something nowadays - I youtubed it. And there I was, taking advice from some ditzy chick who doesn't speak proper English and a lady with a trailer park accent and guess what? It worked! Never judge a book by its cover, aye, aye.

I don't know what to wear for my birthday party tomorrow. I don't want to wear the same things I wore before but that's all I have - didn't have time to shop. Meh I wish I was skinny and fit so I can throw on any tshirt and just wear bling. Ahhh steak and bacon, how I love thee, how I loathe thee.

I found the perfect pooping stall at work the other day. It flushes for like 5x longer than the normal toilet... so you just flush it when you're ready to go and when it finishes flushing you're done. Automatic and continuous courtesy flush. So clean, so elegant.

Boooooo

We're well into february and this is only a second blog of the month... Things are not looking too great for my relax, sit around-have-a-sip-of-coffee and-stare-into-space-side. Summer oh summer free time oh free time, where the EFF art thou. Honestly, i don't know what i really want out of my career now, but i wish i can soon find the goddamn balance between getting bored at work and working 12-14 hours a day.

Work drains me so much that lately i've got the habits of a 40-year-old loser when i'm not working... I tend to eat instant noodles and other junk food in front of the tv, and sit there watch shows for hours, even if they are reruns. During commercial breaks i play angry bird because thats easier than to reach for the remote (and having to aim) and pressing the button. Garbage in, fat growing out. I have been literally donating to my gym and not getting receipts out of it... And haven't even got time or energy to go cancel it. Moo-moo is somewhere on the horizon on the road where i am.

I flipped open my new app on designer runway photos today (it's called The Cut... not really worth checking out tho) and it startled me how many models are pretty darn hideous. I mean, that just tells you when someone says they're dating a model, he or she could look like well, this....(left).

Anyhow, back to surviving another day....





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Unwinding........

It never occurred to me when I was younger how good life was, to be sheltered from the pressure of sustaining myself. I can't believe i used to bitch about it, either...well that was when I was seven. The fact that one day I will have much more to worry about than a final project presentation seemed pretty improbable at the time. Anyway now I look at what stresses me at work and I tell myself, well at least i'm not saving a life... It always helps me put my job in the financial services industry into perspective - it is not a medical, life-death situation... The only thing I might kill is my job...

My mind works in a funny way, too - I'm probably the type of person that is more receptive to placebo effects. The fact that I have savings in my bank accounts (doesn't even have to be a lot) makes me more relaxed. It has an effect on me once I realize it. In the back of my mind where logic and reason don't like to hang out, if I can sell my condo, pay off debt and survive about six months then somehow i feel like I'm quasi-invincible. That's why sometimes to calm my work related nerves, I play a little game of "wonder how long can I survive if I lose the job". Well, except it didn't work the first couple of months after I bought my condo with all my savings :P The mental calcs during that period were depressing as hell.


- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad... That's right!