She's Not That Positive

I’m positive about a lot of things, in a pessimistic kind of way.

I should be committed April 1, 2012

Yes I’ve been busy, and while my life seems crazy and at times I feel a little certifiable for taking so much on, it’s not what I mean by being “committed”. Well, it’s not that not far off, but no, this post is about something even crazier, I’m dating someone. Like the double entendre? (Like the big college girl term?)

Yes you read that correctly, someONE. I am in a RELATIONSHIP. While you might assume because of my efforts to start dating earlier on in the blog, I was looking for this, the truth is the thought of being in a relationship freaks me out. It’s not that hanging out with someone and having fun and doing “coupley” stuff freaks me out, and it certainly has nothing to do with *Him (yes, that’s his “not that positive” name), he is awesome, patient, kind, fun, laid back, and really easy to be with. It’s the commitment that scares me. It’s even the word commitment that scares me.

The scariest part for me is telling people. Why? I don’t know. Everyone of course is happy for me, why wouldn’t they be? But it makes it real and when it’s real there is a real possibility I could get really hurt. The worst part about people knowing you’re in a relationship is telling them that you aren’t anymore.

Want proof of how much of a freak I am? Here’s how I told my mum:  “Mum I need to tell you something, but I’m not ready to tell anyone else, and I don’t want you to make too big of a deal about this.” Mum sits down looking completely freaked out. “OK, of course, what is it?” Deep breath… “Well… Him and I are dating, we have been for a while.” Mum taking a big gulp of her drink and breathing big sigh of relief “Oh is that it? Thank God I thought you had cancer or something, what is wrong with you?!… Do you think it’s my fault you are so obviously afraid of commitment?” (My mother is constantly worried that she is the cause all the problems in my life. And no Mum you aren’t.)

So why is it so scary? I don’t think it is because my parents got divorced, if anything it could be that every single person in my extended family has been divorced at least once. Or the fact that my relationships seem to go amazingly until one day I see pictures of the guy who asked me if I would marry him, kissing another girl on Facebook.

It took me a long time to get over that relationship and a long time to admit to myself that I was in this one. So yes the dating experiment is officially over, and without getting super girly about it he’s awesome and I am so glad that I am letting myself trust someone again.

So there you have it, I am in a committed relationship, and because of Him, everyday it gets a little less scary.


P.S. Don’t worry though I won’t be changing this into a relationship blog. I’ll leave that to the very funny and amazing He & She of I Do Already. (Although I will admit to not so secretly wanting to emulate their relationship)


Oh Em Gee – Where does the time go? March 31, 2012

Filed under: OH-EM-GEE! — She @ 11:50 am
Tags: , ,

So three days ago I promised that I would blog this weekend, only three days ago was really three weeks ago? OK maybe a month, maybe more. But I swear it FEELS like three days ago. Life is speeding by at a ridiculous pace. I’ve been in my new apartment almost a year ago, I’ve been back at school for two years, TWO! Two? I’m not even sure of timelines anymore. It feels like I’m living my life on a treadmill.

Wake-up, work, school work, cook, clean, sleep, wake-up, work, school work, cook, clean, sleep, wake-up, work, school work, cook, clean, sleep, wake-up, work, school work, cook, clean, sleep, wake-up, work, school work, cook, clean, sleep, wake-up, work, school work, cook, clean, sleep… you get the idea. There of course have been small windows of time with friends, family, and yes the beginning of a relationship… but for the most part I feel constantly out of breath, like I’m running through my life. I need to stop, I need balance, I need… a nap. But you can’t stop living your life and I’m at an age where if I want to achieve my goals I need to push through and just, keep, going.

I just need a few more moments to catch my breath like I said, I need balance.

In the spirit of “I should be writing a research paper” I am working on another post for you, which should be up tomorrow (or next Tuesday or May). In the meantime any tips on time management (that don’t involve lists, because I have lists of list, I have a list addiction already), or well any comments at all, feel free to leave them below…



Oh-Em-Gee! Who “Sucks” More?? January 24, 2012

*I’m back and I’m ranting!* 😀

Before anyone else sends me the article, yes, I did read the Vancouver Magazine Article, “Do Vancouver Men Suck?”  I also read a number of the comments after, a blog post on SweetLife Titled “The Dapper Gentleman” – which responds in part to the notion that “guys dressed ‘for video games in the basement: baseball caps and baggy T-shirts’” (Ashenburg, pg 1).  AND I read the response highlighted in Vancouver Magazine “Do Vancouver Women Suck? A Reader’s Response” 

And I have my own theory (of course I do), but you aren’t gonna like it… we need to stop blaming each other everyone in Vancouver sucks…

I too have blamed men for my dating woes, (read every dating post on my blog) BUT I’ve also taken some responsibility for the mistakes, for the lack of dates, the missed connections and misunderstandings. The first part of the “offending” article sounds exactly like I could have written it, or at the very least like Ms. Ashenburg and I had gin martinis one night and traded war-stories. And while I agree that men can be intimidated by women (I’ve actually lied and dumbed-down my profession to keep guys talking to me), that they dress too casually or that chivalry is a foreign concept in this city. I have to take exception to the fact that the article suggests that the women of Vancouver are exceptional, fabulous and above reproach. Have you tried to strike up a conversation with a girl in line for the bathroom at a club? Have you asked a girl where she got her shoes, or what the time is, or if she will hold the elevator for you? Have you, a Vancouver girl tried to make contact, any contact with another Vancouver girl you didn’t already know? No? Well let me save you some time, (of course with exceptions) Vancouver women in general are; self-important, self-conscious, social-climbing, competitive, self-involved and frankly most of us are bitches. Of course we love our friends and we are super generous and kind with the people we care about, but in public, in general we are terrible people; we have walls up, we are guarded, we view everyone – men and women – as potential threats and as competition. (I’m generalizing of course, but that’s what these articles do – they generalize.)

We can blame men all we want for the death of chivalry, there are theories that feminism has ruined men, has made it confusing as to who pays for what and when they can open doors. (Yes the struggle for women’s rights has put men down, *insert eye roll* FYI feminism is about equal rights not about who pays for dinner). But really when was the last time you were struggling with packages and a girl helped you with the door? Chivalry is dying because as a society we stopped being concerned with other people. For example- I saw a woman on the train ask an elderly lady to move out of the designated seats so her and her husband could sit next to each other! How can we think that is OK, and be all up in arms when we choose to put on 6-inch heels and a guy doesn’t offer to give us his seat on our morning commute? (For the record I do think the seat should be offered, but I’m old-fashioned.)

There is a general lack of concern for others in this city, a lack of respect for the well-being of our fellow Vancouverites, a lack of respect that people other than us have shit going on. This translates into our dating life as well. If we walk around all day in exercise gear, why do we expect a man to put on a collared shirt to take us out? If we constantly complain about not being approached at bars, why do we complain when a guy gets up the nerve to do so? Alternatively, guys why complain about constantly being shut down if when you approach a girl the things you choose to say are disrespectful, or if you approach her in inappropriate places? Girls are unapproachable because we have been taught to be with disrespectful behaviour from men. Men then in turn find girls intimidating.

It’s a vicious cycle and someone needs to break it, why not you?

Is this exclusive to Vancouver? Why when we go on vacation do men seem more attentive and more aggressive in approaching you? Why are women easier to talk to abroad? BECAUSE YOU ARE ON VACATION. You are relaxed, you are open to new experiences, you are looking to have fun and it is obvious. Why not try that same attitude here in your own city? (Advice I was given, thank-you M*.) And ladies, why not be nice to that girl in line in the bathroom, maybe she is playing “wing-man” for a cute single guy friend?


2011 in review January 19, 2012

Filed under: Uncategorized — She @ 4:29 pm

The stats helper monkeys prepared a 2011 annual report for this blog.

Here’s an excerpt:

A San Francisco cable car holds 60 people. This blog was viewed about 3,400 times in 2011. If it were a cable car, it would take about 57 trips to carry that many people.

Click here to see the complete report.


OH-MY-HAIR September 4, 2011

Filed under: General Musings — She @ 12:27 pm
Tags: , , ,

Women put a lot of emotion into a new hairstyle. OK I may be generalizing, but I put a lot in my new hairstyles. I expect them to make me “feel” different, either to aesthetically reflect who I am and how I’m feeling or to somehow magically make me feel different. I admit this is a lot of pressure to put on hair and my hairstylist, but, as a Ginger, I’ve been defined by my hair since I was a kid.  It seems only natural to me now that it should reflect who I am.

Most women will get drastically different hairstyles at major milestones in their lives, break-ups, new jobs, just married, pregnancy. (Again I’m generalizing, but I don’t think I’m far off.) I just don’t know if they do it for the same reason I do. Sometimes I just need to FEEL different.

I had long straight strawberry-blonde hair until I hit 22 when I announced to my boyfriend that I was going to the hairdresser. His response, “don’t cut your hair or dye it, I forbid it.” I was shocked. It was the first time anyone aside from my parents had forbidden me to do anything. (Ask my mum how that turned out.) I came back from the salon with a short “Rachel-from-friends” style and much blonder hair. I felt rebellious and smug, he hated it but I didn’t care. (Incidentally over the next three-plus-years he tried to forbid a number of things I had no intention of doing until he “suggested” I not do them; you can’t take the Ginger out of the girl folks.)

When we broke up I went back to long-straight-strawberry-blonde, (spite is a magical thing). At 31 and in love, my boyfriend told me I would look amazing with a short-Bob. I laughed it off, but I was in love with an amazing guy and quitting my job to start freelancing, I was empowered and I needed new hair to define it. So one night when he met me at a wedding reception he was surprised to find a slighting-drunk-high-on-life-Bob-sporting me. I looked fantastic and more importantly I FELT fantastic! My hair grew back long and straight as soon as that relationship went to shit and I had to find a new job because a freelance client “couldn’t” pay me.

Recently my hairdresser convinced me to go dark red and get bangs. I looked different, but I didn’t feel different. Every time I looked in the mirror I didn’t recognize myself. For the first time, my hair changed but I didn’t. For the first time it was just hair. Maybe it was just the wrong style? Maybe I need something more drastic than bangs to make me feel different? So now, my hair not quite back to strawberry-blonde, has gone back to the short Bob.

As sassy as my new hair looks, I don’t feel sassy, I don’t feel different at all. I’m not sure why I expected to, or even why I wanted to. Is it possible that it’s just a haircut after all, and all of the change before was happening inside? Is it possible that a simple haircut can’t change your life?

Well whatever the reason at least my hair looks and feels fantastic. I guess the rest is up to me.


On My Own Again August 16, 2011

Filed under: General Musings — She @ 6:38 pm
Tags: , ,

That’s it. After nearly eight years of living together Roomie and I have separated. Her and her boyfriend have taken over ‘our’ place and I have moved on.

It’s actually been about a month and a half since the split but finally the dust has settled and I feel like I’m able to talk about it now. OK that is WAY over dramatizing, but I feel like since it has been so long since we’ve talked I should give you something salacious. (Oooh good word!)

Eight years of living with Roomie, has taught me a lot about myself (and even more about her); and all told I wouldn’t have traded that time for anything. Our situation was supposed to be temporary, to help me get back on my feet financially, it was when we moved together three and a half years ago that we joked this might be permanent. (Secretly I think our parents are still holding out hope we’ll end up together.)

Eight years. That is nearly a decade. It’s longer than most marriages; according to it is almost a year longer than the median. (Yup, I looked it up, it’s called research folks). Our first weekend “apart” we spent together setting up my new place. Old habits die hard.

Eight years is a long time to think about someone and how your daily life affects theirs. Who showers first? How quiet was I when I snuck in last night? Do I call when I am not coming home so she doesn’t worry? Is that my cheese or her cheese?

Eight years of sharing bad days, good days, picking each other up after broken relationships, celebrating successes, supporting each other through everything from what shoes to wear (mostly me) to career advice. You know those really intense phone conversations you have with your best friend where you talk about EVERYTHING, and laugh about nothing, and end up just watching TV together on the phone, commenting on whatever is happening on-screen? I had eight years of that.

Frankly I miss it.

I love my new apartment and having all my stuff out, and decorating, and showering whenever I want, and having people over, and listening to MY music, and everything else that comes with the independence of living alone.

But when I stopped the other day. I missed it. I missed coming home to someone. Someone who will talk about my bad day with me, someone who cares that I AM home; someone to cook dinner for, and to take the remote from me because frankly I am “a terrible driver” and I like to watch commercials. I miss someone encouraging me to do something different, to confirm I look decent enough to leave the house.  Someone who gives me tough love, and when I need it, just love.

More specifically, I miss tripping over Roomie’s sparkly shoes, and hearing her laugh when I try to say something in Japanese. I miss the cat. I miss making snarky remarks at the TV shows and laughing with her. I miss spending everyday with my best friend.

I am by nature fiercely independent. Always have been, ask my mum. I love living alone and am super excited about this next chapter. I’ve enjoyed the last month immensely. But I just needed to acknowledge how grateful I am to Roomie for the last eight years.

As for Roomie and I? We’ll be fine; you don’t go through that much with someone and stop talking. She’s my best friend, my partner in crime, the person I still message and call when I need to run something by someone. I hear her voice in my head still, when I reach for something black at the clothing store (don’t worry, I put it down!), or when something happens just like she said it would. We still have keys to each other’s apartments. The only changes are that when I come home I don’t trip over her shoes and it takes four minutes instead of four seconds to walk over and see her for a laugh… and from now on you’ll all know her as M*.

As she says “we both know too many secrets about each other not to be best friends.”



An Apathetic Hockey Fan in a Cup Crazy City June 8, 2011

Filed under: General Musings — She @ 6:34 pm
Tags: , , , , ,

Note – I am writing this post in my kitchen wearing my Vancouver Millionaires sweater I bought a few weeks ago, for the sole reason that if I wear something Canucks on game days to work, I can dress casually. I am not a bandwagon-jumper, an enthused fan, or a hockey hater.

Where are you watching the game tonight? What do you mean you’re not?! It’s the play-offs?!?!

I’ve heard this exact line of questioning exactly 10 times today and countless other times over the series. (Is series even the right word?)

I know this is going to make me a bit of an outcast in Vancouver but I have to come clean about something; I have not been watching the Finals, in fact I haven’t been watching all season. OK that’s a bit of an exaggeration, I have watched a few games out with friends and was lucky enough to get to go to a game this year.  But I have not stopped my life for hockey and frankly while the Canucks are facing the possibility of winning the cup for the first time, or first time in 40 years (whatever), I am facing mid-terms and moving.

Don’t get me wrong it’s not that I don’t like hockey, it’s a lot fun to watch live; and going out to see the game at pubs with friends is fun, but for me that’s more about hanging out with friends and being in a room full of boys. What it is, is that I just don’t care. I don’t want the Canucks to lose, but frankly if they win it won’t change much for me either.

I live right downtown Vancouver, between the stadium and Granville street so I don’t need to watch; I hear the goals, the loud cheers from groups of people in condos and pubs surrounding my apartment, the excitement is overwhelming! The people partying in the street afterward I’m not thrilled about but I will never be one who complains about others having fun. Unless your fun is coming right into my face and screaming “Go Canucks Go! Show us your tits!” then, well then I will complain. (OK so I didn’t so much “complain” as tell him to get his drunk douchey-ass out of my face and some other choice expletives.)

I loved the street celebrations during the Olympics, the cowbell at 4 am made the next day at work at bit difficult, but I digress. This is different, without the world watching, the vibe doesn’t feel as fun, in fact at times it feels a bit threatening. Large groups of drunk men grabbing at girls on the street makes me nervous, it makes me dread the final game, win or lose. Always a few bad apples.

The real fans (like some of my amazing friends & family) are so excited. They are personally invested in “their” team and are wishing, praying, growing beards, wearing the same socks, watching with the same people; whatever they can do to bring luck to the team. I think it’s awesome, I do. But like I commented Saturday night I don’t think I’ve ever felt as passionately about anything as some fans feel about a group of guys they don’t even know slapping a puck around a sheet of ice. It truly amazes me.

With Canuck fever infecting the city, no one is talking about anything else; there is the breakdown of the game the day after. The armchair coaches talking about what should’ve happened on the ice, what bad calls the Refs made (incidentally, why would anyone ever want to be a Ref they take so much abuse), and day-of, a breakdown of who is watching where and an explanation of whatever superstition they are using to get their team the Cup. Even the local newspapers have become giant sport sections, it’s like the world has stopped outside of the rink. For someone like me play-off time can be a lonely time. I have nothing to contribute to hockey talk, fortunately to fit-in in this city all you have to say is “Go, Canucks Go!”