So here we are, months and months later, and like most bloggers I have taken a break due to stress and huge life changes. I have moved to Foreignland (let's come out and say it's Australia, shall we?) to be with Feb, and have been in the country for nearly two months now. I am starting to get settled in, though the necessity to move is on the horizon, and I start a job tomorrow, finally.

The biggest development, I suppose, is that two weeks ago, Feb once again changed his mind about our relationship. Readers, this time his words were, "We just aren't supposed to be together. This isn't going to work out in the long run". So he truly is Feb again.

He feels that since my arrival in Australia, our relationship has been "too hard", and if it's right, then it's not meant to be so hard. We have only been together in the same country for five weeks. Five. Weeks. After ten months of upholding a long distance relationship, of talking nearly every day and emailing at least that often, of long letters and hopeful prayers, he has given us five weeks to create a perfect relationship "in person", decided that we (I) do not meet his expectations, and now it's all over.

Cliche as it may sound, my heart feels like it is being ripped out of my body: skin is streching, straining to the breaking point, a long, slow tear is opening that reaches deep down within my chest. Something grabs my heart, wraps around it, squeezes it and becomes still, vise-like, a steady, inescapable pressure. And then, excruciatingly slowly, my heart, my deepest insides, are twisted, pulled, savagely torn as vein and artery and ligament are snapped and discarded, and then there it is, for all to see: the bruised heart writhing and torn and alive, but dying. And so I feel sick inside, and heavy, and empty, all at once and all the time. I don't want to eat, I spend my days mostly alone and lonely, without a car, without my family, without my closest friends.

And that I think is maybe the hardest part. I have friends here, but they are still new, still surface, and often untrustworthy with details and feelings. I find that information travels like lightning in our community here, and I am the new one, the one that Feb has rejected. I get looks of pity and the sympathetic head tilt, and people offer to "catch up" and hang out, which is sweet, but there rarely is that level of total, soul baring comfort where I can sob for hours and know that the warm arms around me will not let up, will hold me and stroke my damp hair and look past my blotchy red face and swollen eyes and know that inside is a girl who is worth it, even if he doesn't think so.

I just feel like he hasn't even given us a chance. Of course it's going to be hard, our relationship was stamped "difficult" from the very beginning: an Aussie and a Canadian, both fiercely loyal to their homes and very involved with their community, schools, and church. We have spent 17 months of our two year relationship in separate countries, but we have always made it work. This time, seeing each other, was the first time we were physically together since he up and left Canada, and there were trust issues on my end (I was afraid of all this happening again) and we had never lived our lives "normally"- working and doing day to day things. One of us was always on vacation and so we spent long, lazy days together, seeing only each other, oftentimes, and picking irritably until little fights would start.

But now I have moved here, across the world so things could be different, we could be real. I have left my job, my friends, my home, my car, my family, my life, just to be with him and set up a normal relationship in a normal life, to give us a chance. And I knew it would be hard and woud take adjusting, and I knew that there were parts missing from our relationship that needed to be introduced and strengthened, but I thought that we had time to work those things out together, to create and renew and refresh and to relearn each other in so many ways.

But he has given up. Just like that, he has seen the future somehow and decided that this, us, will never work. He asked me if I think two people can be so attracted to each other, but it just not be "right", and of course I think so, but not us. We are different, we are special- we can't resist each other, even from across the world. We are drawn to each other, to our humor and looks and laughter and intelligence and kindness and the whole package.

I just don't understand why he would give up. Why, now, he would dismiss our future. He begged me to come here in the first place: I was so reluctant, so scared because I was worried this would happen. He dismissed that, promised he would take care of me, told me that this time it was permanent and God was going to make us such a powerful team, partners. He even wanted me to move on an "Intention to Marry" visa, which provided that we would have to marry within 9 months of my arrival. He had no problems with that, but I held back because I was afraid of the steadfastness of his heart.

By the time I got here, I was convinced. He had made me believe that he was trustworthy, that we would be together forever, that a happy home with love and fun and devotion was ahead of us. And now he has abandoned me, left me to my own survival.

I am missing all that he was for me: a partner, a confidante, an advisor, a giver, a driver, understander of my jokes, a teacher, my best friend, my very best friend. I am so lonely, so confused, so hurt. I love him and miss him with all that I am, and he turns from me whenever we are even within eyesight of each other.

I don't know what to do. I just don't know how to imagine my life without him. Not again. This can't be how it's supposed to be.

So, I am well underway at the new job. It is very bizarre being back in an office environment- working at a restaurant is SO different from an office atmosphere, it really is. The whole reason I went to go work at The Restaurant is because my office job was boring the pants off me, not to mention making me gain weight!

So here I am, back at a desk! I do, however, get to run around the country club, talking to chefs and golf pros and servers in my quest to organize perfect events, so I get to move around quite a bit. I can also head out to the driving range or the course whenever I please and golf FOR FREE!! This would be much more exciting if I had ever golfed in my life, or if I even cared one tiny iota about golf, but as it is, I do love anything free, so I'm happy.

I finished my third day today and am so far happy. I am finally starting to "get" the event planning software and have finished bleach-wiping my desk/phone/computer/anything breathed on or touched by former employees. I set up my voicemail and finally got access to my company email account today. Business cards should be arriving next week, and today my boss gave me his company password and username (!) for Staples and I went on a shopping spree! Fellow Event Planner and I wrote out a little wishlist, and I spent a few hours searching out everything we could ever want or need before pressing "send" and being guaranteed that our purchase would arrive by Monday! I'm so excited! I got myself a new mouse, a desk protector/writing surface, new pencils, scissors, a tape dispenser, a new waste bin (Boss's idea!), new binders, and a whole hanging file holder set! I think that's it, but there really might be more . . . let's just say that not only is it the most I've ever been allowed to purchase for myself on a company account on my third day, but it is ALL I've ever been allowed to purchase on a company account and I am drunk, people, DRUNK with power!!!

I have a midterm tomorrow, so I really should go study, but please don't let me forget about the rock star revival story . . . it's a good one!

I've recently started another grueling Saturday class. This time it's Wedding Planning, which should come in handy for my new job at Big Fancy Country Club- I will be planning a ridiculous amount of weddings, and so far have no idea how to do it! This course is proving minorly helpful, though I am starting to have dreams at night about getting engaged! I am turned into one of those wedding-fever girls who can't stop imagining the perfect dress or coming up with countless themes and color schemes . . . somebody help me!!




Breakfast: small cup of yogurt, glass of juice
Lunch: medium Quiznos sandwich, turkey and swiss
Snack: bag of baby carrots, two cinnamon sticks (mini pastries)
Dinner: grilled chicken breast, salad
Dessert: piece of apple pie with vanilla frozen yogurt

Haven't updated lately- why is it so hard to keep up with myself? Basically, I've been doing really good at my running schedule and not so hot at my eating- it's playoff's, afterall, and we are all scarfing down pizza while we cheer on our Canucks! So, I figure it at least balances out because I am running heaps and waving my arms around in constant cheering and/or "what are you doing?!?!" movements while simultaneously consuming large amounts of greasy bread and cheese slices.

Feb and I had an early morning phone date yesterday. It was about 7 30am for me and midnight for him, so we were both a little tired. It was so lovely, though- I could lay in bed with my laptop and webcam and phone-call software and see and talk to him- it was almost like we were cuddling together on a lazy Saturday morning.

I say almost because it was Monday morning, I had to go to work, he's 13,000km away, and there was no cuddling involved.

This is all getting really difficult. I mean, we finally feel like our relationship is in the right place and we are learning how to really understand each other, but we can't even hug or share a kiss. And forgive me for getting personal, but Feb is an amazing lover who is not only very thoughtful and persistent, but also the bearer of a very large and skillfully-used penis. It's only fair to say that I miss him terribly and am not sure how to deal with all this right now!

On a completely different note, I am starting the new job on Wednesday of next week! I am madly trying to get ahead in my schoolwork so that I can focus all of my attention and energy on really being prepared for the training and new work I will soon be in charge of!!! And on that note, it's back to the books for me . . . and maybe a bit of daydreaming about a certain sexy-accented foreigner . . .

PB called back and . . . agreed to my demand for more money! I am now officially the Event Planner at Big Fancy Golf and Country Club! I gave notice at the Restaurant yesterday, which was very sad- I really do like it there, regardless of how much I may complain about the ridiculous patrons and anal-retentive managers. I will miss it for the social connections with the staff, and even the regulars, and I will desperately miss the food!

But I am really excited for my new position- I think I will learn a lot and get to meet lots of new people, plus it will look great on my resume. And I suppose I will learn top time management skills as I juggle 40+ hours per week and my four-class schedule!

Wish me luck!



Breakfast: um. Coconut cake.
Lunch: half a sandwich at the Restaurant, two spicy chicken wings, a small piece of chocolate cake (no icing!)
Snack: Ok, this sounds bad, but . . . my manager bought me and a co-worker some cheesecake . . . so I had half. It's been a ckae kind of day, okay!? I'm going on a run right now, I promise!
Dinner: TBA. I promise it won't be cake again!
Update: I ended up having some carrots, green salad, and whole wheat crackers.

It's really illuminating to write down what you eat in a day and realize that 90% of your daily intake is cake!

Things got a little out of control today. I'm a little embarrassed, which is good- hopefully it will motivate me to be more careful in the coming days!

Breakfast: skipped it. This was the first mistake- it left me ravenous for the rest of the day.
Lunch: half a pizza with vegetarian pepperoni (at least it was a whole-wheat crust)
Snack: low-fat fruit bar from starbucks
Dinner: uhhh. The other half of the pizza.
Late night snack: corn chips with sour cream and bean dip.

Ouch. I had a stressful night and took it out on my food. I ate for the sake of it, not because I was hungry. Oh well, tomorrow's another day!

When I was eleven years old I decided to become a vegetarian. My parents said that it was okay if I could actually carry out a vegetarian lifestyle for two weeks straight. I promptly agreed and began to consume only things grown in the ground. On the third day, they took me out to Moxie's Family Grill (back when it was a casual family place) where they tempted me with my favorite food in the world- a clubhouse sandwich. With those layers of turkey, bacon, lettuce and tomato staring me in the face, my vegetarian-ism crumbled and I indulged in all of the double-decker delight.

A year later I tried again, and this time it took. I ate no meat, fish, or poultry for ten years and prided myself on my healthy lifestyle and ability to turn down fleshy, grease-laden treats like hamburgers and steaks. I worked hard to find great vegetarian meals and recipes, ventured into the world of cooking with tofu, and would often create gourmet delights in an attempt to trick my friends into thinking they were eating "real" meatballs, or chili, or pepperoni, etc.

But I have a confession to make, Readers. Feb has always felt passionately about my vegetarianism. I don't know if it was because his last girlfriend was a vege too, and he doesn't like the reminder of her, or whether he truly is just concerned about my health, but Feb is actively disapproving of my lifestyle choice and has always tried to encourage me to "branch out".

And Readers, after a year of well-meaning, concerned conversations, I finally told Feb that for his sake, I'd try to start eating a bit of chicken. Chicken has long been the only "meat" that is actually appetizing to me when I smell it, and I thought that perhaps it would be something palatable that would appease Feb's desire to see me eat meat. Plus, we were pretty confident that we were going to be living together relatively soon, and I was happily embracing the idea of cooking for him. I have no idea how to cook any meat whatsoever, and thought that this little foray into omnivorism would be a valuable learning experience.

So I tried it. And after the first tentative few bites, I loved it.

Now, Readers, I simply cannot get enough chicken. And I feel terribly guilty because, aside from my two closest friends, no one knows that I am eating any poultry. Why, you ask, would I keep it a secret? Because for as long as I've been a vegetarian, I have been mocked and singled out by my friends for it. I am known as LM, the vegetarian. It is almost a source of pride, and should people discover that I am straying from my self-prescribed path, it is as if I would lose a part of my character in their eyes. Plus, they are always offering to pay me enormous amounts of money to consume meat, and one of these days I plan on making a profit on just such an offer . . . with chicken!

So, here I am, sitting in my room, furtively scarfing down a piece of grilled chicken, smacking my lips and loving it! When we go out to eat, all I want to do is order the chicken salads on the menu. But I can't. I'm bound by my own sense of pride and status. So I will continue to enjoy chicken to its fullest degree in the confines of my home until one day, the time is right. And then they will know. . . then they will all know.


Breakfast: cup of yogurt
Lunch: grilled chicken salad
Snack: sauteed mushrooms and red peppers with grated mozza cheese
Dinner: handful of almonds, salad with viniagrette dressing, grilled chicken breast
Dessert: low-fat frozen yogurt (mango! mmm.)

Well, I did it. I called PB and told him that I really appreciate the offer, and I would love the opportunity to work with him, but I simply cannot do so for the amount that he is offering. He asked me what I wanted, and I told him. He seemed shocked. He said, "That much? Are you factoring in commission? Because commission will be another big chunk on top of that!" And I said, "Yes, that's before commission." Then he seemed a little mad and hung up pretty quickly, letting me know that he would talk to the president about it and let me know on Tuesday, when he's back in the office.

That's fine. I really don't mind anymore whether I take it or not. I mean, afterall, it's my choice now whether I do it, and I will only do so if I am comfortable with the job as a whole. It's not like I'm desperate for work! I like being in this position of power!

On another note, I've decided that I'm going to start recording what I eat on my blog. Now, this might seem weird to some readers, but really, this blog is meant to be a personal space for venting and expressing myself. Of course I know that other people can read it, and I don't mind that, but nobody has to read it. That means that I can use this space as I please, and I will! I have been working really hard lately to get back into really good shape. I am doing well on my running program- the overall goal is to run 5k (or 3miles) after the 8 weeks finishes. Today, as part of week five, I ran 3.2k (2miles) and it was totally fine. I felt very proud! Anyway, as an added incentive to keep myself accountable to my BB07 goals, I'm going to record my food for each day.

This will help me because, 1) I never remember what I eat! I can eat a whole bar of chocolate and not even remember it later that day, when I will eat more and then wonder why I feel sick! Writing things down will help me stick to my goals. And, 2) if I know that other people can see what I've eaten (because I'm going to be completely honest), even though you are all total strangers, maybe that will help me be more careful about what I put into my body!

So, you may find small notes at the end of posts about my food intake, or you may find that somedays that is the only post. Either way, I hope no one minds! Please, feel free to keep me accountable or remind me of my goal if you notice that I've gone ballistic one day and totally blown it.


Here we go!
Brunch: cranberry scone, piece of coffee cake, orange juice
Lunch: salad with greens, goat cheese, strawberries and pecans (yum!)
Snack: Latte and some leftover Easter Mini Eggs
Dinner: Barbequed chicken sandwich on brown bread with lettuce, carrots

So I met with Potential Boss yesterday and he officially offered me the job. He gave me a package with details about responsibilities and expectations, as well as compensation, benefits, etc. We went through it together, and everything was looking as I expected, until . . . we reached the compensation page. I was shocked at how little they were offering!

I mean, in all of our discussions, PB has been very upfront about the fact that I will be working long hours- all event planners do- often up to 60 hours a week. They would offer days off in lieu of overtime pay, but when I figured out the math, it ends up that I will only be making a bit over eleven dollars per hour, based on a forty hour week at $450/week. If you add 10 to 20 hours a week to that total, I could be getting paid seven dollars an hour!!! And our minimum wage here is eight!
(Note: PB adds that I will be paid a commission on all events, and says that this will increase my salaray by around 5K per year. I guess that is something I need to keep in consideration . . .)

Now, this job is a great way to get my foot in the door of the event planning world, and normally I would suck it up and take the job, knowing that I will likely get a raise relatively soon. However, at my current job at the restaurant, I make $450/week, easy, working only 20 or 25 hours!! It is very hard for me to imagine working twice as many hours or more, just to earn the same amount of money that I am earning now. Additionally, as I am still going to school, it just doesn't make sense to stress myself out by taking four classes AND working over forty hours per week, all for what would be a sub-standard wage for me!

I did contact one of my event planning teachers and ask her what an average salary is for a beginner. She told me that most positions start at $24-30,000 per year- a bit over what PB is offering me. I was expecting PB to offer 30K- afterall, I have a university degree in addition to my Event Marketing certification!

So now I don't know what to do- I would like the job, and think it would be a great opportunity for me. However, it is really difficult for me to justify working so very hard, while attending school full-time, and making not very much money in return.

Ahhh!! Once again, I turn to you, Readers . . . give me advice and solve all of my problems!

I hope everyone enjoyed their Easter celebrations! Or at least the time off work and school . . . I had a bit of a lonely Easter this year. My dad was out of town visiting my Grandpa, who was recently hospitalized because of a heart attack. My sister and brother in law went out of province to visit some family, and my mom was invited for dinner at her friend's house. So it was just me this year, and I spent the time working a lot and messing around on the internet.

Okay, I'm done feeling sorry for myself! There were good things that happened this weekend! One highlight would be that I got a call from the Country Club!! I got the job!

Officially, I don't have it yet. We have an appointment for tomorrow where I will meet with Potential Boss and he will present me with an offer for the position. I don't really know what this means, but I pretended I did over the phone. I am assuming that we will talk about salary and benefits and such, but I'm not sure and am hoping that it will all be simple! I'm not experienced in the field of negotiation!

I'm very excited because this is really exactly what I've been going to school for! Hopefully it will be a good experience- I'm nervous about taking four classes AND working a more-than-fulltime job, AND possibly staying on at the Restaurant for one shift a week. I'm also nervous about talking to management at the Restaurant . . . they love me there and really need experienced people right now! I hate the idea of leaving them shorthanded and not getting to see all my dear co-workers there!

I guess all this is normal new-job stress! I will keep you posted on how the negotiations go tomorrow!!

I had a job interview today!

This has all come about rather suddenly. I was perusing craigslist on Tuesday night and happened upon a listing for an Event Planner at a local country club. On a whim, I sent in my resume, thinking that while I am not yet certified in the field, I will be by summertime and I might as well get some practice writing cover letters and trying to impress potential employers. I went to bed that night without giving it another thought.

Yesterday, when I arrived home from the Restaurant, there was an email waiting for me, requesting that I call the Director of Special Events as soon as possible to "discuss my qualifications for the job"! He also mentioned that he was impressed by my resume and was looking forward to talking to me. I called him back that night and set up an interview for this morning before work!

It was . . . interesting. Potential Boss (PB) was very friendly and talkative . . . very, very talkative. When I first entered the office, I commented on its color- it is deep red and very vibrant. I thought that he would accept the compliment and we would move on into the interview. But PB had other ideas. Instead of talking about me and my suitability for the company, we talked about how he painted the office when it was his boss', without permission, and earned heaps of praise for his creativity. Then we talked about how color affects mood and the red keeps him alert throughout the day. Then he told me about some diet program where they sell you blue-tinged glasses because no one wants to eat blue food, and if it all looks blue you will lose your appetite. Then we discussed McDonalds and Subway and their particular color scheme choices and how they relate to the fast food industry and its needs.

Then, and only then, Readers, did we start the interview. Even at that point, it felt more like an orientation than an interview. PB explained all the facets of the job to me, even showed me the planning software that the company uses. He told me all about their busy and slow seasons, the pasts of the former employees, how much of a discount I would get on food were I to work there, and described what a regular day would be like. For interview, I spoke amazing little- maybe only ten percent of the time!

I think it went well, though. I mean, the very fact that PB wanted to tell me so much about the job must have been a good sign, right? He asked multiple times if it was something I could see myself doing and feeling comfortable with. He was delighted when he discovered that I am taking Event Planning and Marketing right now and am hoping to make a career of it (uh, did he even read the resume that he was so impressed by?!). He even went into detail about my potential salary, commissions, share of the gratuities pool, and how many staff parties I can expect per year!

I honestly felt like I was there for my first day. He did say that he has a couple of other people that he is meeting with, but he will call in a couple of days. I am getting nervous!

I think my biggest issue is that I feel like I'm not ready for a "real" job! I have been working in the Restaurant for three years now. Before that, I worked an office job, and was overjoyed to leave the confines of the desk for a place where I could walk around all day and work with young, like-minded people. The thought of spending my summer working long hours, indoors, often behind a computer, is daunting for me. I just don't feel ready to grow up! Plus, the Restaurant is such a social atmosphere; I love my coworkers and am so lucky to have an abundance of fun, smart, poeple around me who understand the trauma that can be a server's life, but can still laugh with me over a glass of wine and ridiculous amounts of food at the end of the night.

Another issue is that I am tentatively planning to move to Foreignland for an indefinite period of time in September. I really really really want to get some event experience before then as it is will be difficult enough finding work, not only as a foreigner, but as a foreigner without a landed immigrant status. Though I know that this is really important, I feel guilty agreeing to work somewhere when I know I will likely be leaving them high and dry come six months from now!

I guess I am getting a bit ahead of myself- after all, I only just had the interview this morning, and have no idea whether I will actually be getting a job out of it!!! Cross your fingers for me, Readers, and help me figure out what the best course of action is here!

The Office

I don't have much to say today, but this video from The Office (British version) makes me cry (with laughter) every time I watch it. Which is a lot. Enjoy!

The Office (David Brent rules)

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Though Feb and I are still basking in the glow of our newly regained bliss (it's the one month anniversary of new re-relationship-ness today!), there is one teensy weensy problem that just doesn't seem to be going away.

I'm insanely jealous, Readers. I don't know what's wrong with me! I'm not a jealous person in general, really, and I usually try not to be around people who are because it's just so exhausting. But lately I have become a very jealous long-distance girlfriend who cannot stand the thought of other girls being around Feb.

I think that part of the problem dates back to when I was in Foreignland. Feb and I went on a little mini-vacation to Foreignland's most well-known and popular city. We toured the sights, enjoyed the shopping and food and some theater, and even managed to find an exclusive little night club where we secured a cozy booth and snuggled together while sipping overpriced cocktails.

Feb stood up and offered to get another round. I was feeling particularly affectionate by this point and insisted on coming with him. He headed toward the bar, and I was about two steps behind him when another girl stopped him with a hand on his arm. She stepped close to him, her long, straight brown hair brushing against him and her wide, shapely mouth curving upward as she leaned in.

"Excuse me," she smiled, hand still resting on his forearm. "Do you know where the bathroom is?"

"No, sorry," Feb replied.

"Oh." The girl paused, pouted. (By this point I was ready to jump on her and squeeze her dainty little throat). "Well," she purred, leaning ever closer, "would you like to come find it with me?"

I nearly choked. I was standing RIGHT THERE! Feb turned her down quickly and politely, grabbed my arm, and pulled me to the bar. I shot her evil ice daggers with my eyes and tried to make her feel lucky that I have an accent and am clearly a tourist in her country that she is liley to never see again.

The point of this little fable, readers? Feb is really attractive. As in hot. As in attractive enough that girls will try to pick him up while his girlfriend is standing two steps away!

And really, I'm lucky to have such a good looking guy who is also amazing, I know, but it is really not great when I am halfway around the world and am all too aware that the majority of hot young things in Foreignland are interested in MY prime real estate. (Was that too far over the cheesy line? I kind of liked it!)

Anyway, I was doing some myspace stalking the other day, and realized just how many girls Feb is friends with. I know he sees them as innocent friendships; he is an incredibly friendly person who is really nice to everyone he meets, male or female. It's just that most of his friends who are female have, at one point or another, tried to get together with him (and yes, that runs the full spectrum of meanings that that phrase can hold!) And he has rejected them, explained to them again about his lovely Canadian girlfriend who is holding her breath and waiting for him, and told them he is not available nor interested. Yet they keep hanging on his every word and laughing at all his jokes, believing deep down that no long-distance relationship can really work, and if they keep wearing their skimpy little outfits and playing coyly with their white-blond hair, they will eventually win him over. I can't stand it! It wouldn't be as much of a problem if they weren't all pretty, skinny girls, but they are, which makes everything worse.

Call me crazy, but when I go to leave a comment on his myspace page as a little surprise (I dislike myspace, so writing to him on it is a special treat for Feb!), I am not thrilled to see these aforementioned girls littering his page with their pictures and flirtatious comments. Today it made me so mad that I went for a run. A good long one, and with every step I told myself that I would lose more weight and become a thousand times prettier than Feb already thinks I am, and a million times hotter than the silly little girls that surround his life.

Shallow? Maybe. Perhaps that's not the best bit of arsenal in my collections of motivation for losing weight and getting fitter, but it works. Plus, if I can show up in Foreignland and be fit enought to look better than the foreign chicks in a great pair of jeans and be strong enough to wring their necks if they ever lay their hands on Feb again, then all the better!

My last post seemed to attract more readers than usual . . . I have the nagging feeling that there are lots of people out there who struggle with their personal fitness and health goals. I guess that is a given in our society: we are all aware of the "supermodel syndrome", the ridiculous expectations that we and society place upon our bodies and personal image, the fact that every woman (and probably lots of men, too) will always have something that she cannot accept about herself. Really, all one has to do is look at the young women around her to see the insecurities and confidence issues that plague the collective female consciousness.

I think that lots of companies are starting to pick up on this problem, and some are even trying to address it and change the status quo. Dove in particular does a great job; I'd encourage everyone to check out the Campaign for Real Beauty website to see tons of videos that feature everyone from young girls to older women talking about their self image and their struggle to come to grips with who they are and what they have been created to be.

Subservient Worker recently voiced some of the problems she faces in my comments section and asked for any advice I might be able to offer. I don't know if she quite knew what she was getting herself into with that request-- I could talk about this subject for hours! But, for the sake of you all, I will try to keep this abbreviated.

SW, I feel your pain! In lives as busy as ours, it often becomes difficult to eat well and exercise. It feels like we only have enough time or willpower to do one or the other, but to keep control of both is far too great an exertion in the midst of work and school and homelife and long distance relationships that depend entirely on webcams. (Maybe that last one just applies to me . . .)

Firstly, though, I want to encourage you that losing five pounds is a HUGE accomplishment, and to say congratulations! It is so easy for us to look at the number five, or seven, or even two, and think "That's nothing! I need to lose so much more than that!", and then we get discouraged. I once had a coworker who was working really hard to lose weight. She had been over 250 pounds for as long as I'd known her, and was just starting to attend a weight loss support group and really work on improving her health and lower her body weight. I remember I was once sharing with her my own frustrations about my body, and she told me something I will never forget, mainly because it came from someone who had clearly faced her own unique battle in this area.

"LM," she said, "when you think of losing five pounds of fat, it often doesn't seem like much, and I understand that you can get annoyed that the pounds aren't flying off. But look at this." She went to our office fridge and pulled out the industrial size five-pound tub of margarine that someone had left in the fridge for everyone's use. "Look at this tub. The fat you lost in the last month, the five pounds you worked so hard to get rid of, would fill this container. Feel how heavy it is. Look at it and imagine how much work it would take to make this entire container just disappear. That is what you have accomplished!"

And even if it sounds silly, ever since then, I have learned to picture my weight losses, small or large, in one pound blocks or five pound tubs of butter or margarine. To be able to look at a physical object and know that I, through sheer determination and hard work, have forcibly removed its equivalent in fat from my body is a huge boost for my self-esteem. It has really taught me to appreciate my own efforts and to celebrate the small successes along the way.

As for the fine balance between keeping up our healthy eating efforts and exercise goals at the same time, I can only share what I find helps me. This method may not work for everyone because we all have different ways of envisioning ourselves and our fitness efforts, but over the last few years, when I really started caring about my health, I have developed this habit which has helped me control this tricky area.

I look at calories. You see, 3500 calories equals one pound of fat. If you were to eliminate 500 calories from your diet everyday, over seven days you would lose one pound. So, I figure out how many calories I need to take in to maintain my current body weight (if you want this formula, feel free to ask/comment/email me). Then I take 500 calories off of the total, and over that week, I should lose one pound. The 500 calories can be either directly taken out of your diet, or they can be burned off by exercise, or a combination of both.

Using simple math like this helps me because it is indisputable fact. If you take away those 500 calories each day, you will lose the weight, no questions asked. To help myself control my eating, I tend to look at the calories I am burning while I am, say, exercising on the elliptical machine. In 25 minutes on the machine, I burn about 350 calories if I am working pretty hard. Later that day, if I am tempted to eat a bar of Swiss chocolate with hazelnuts (my absolute favorite!), I will look at the nutrition information on the bar and see that it contains 300 calories.

Then I think to myself, "I just worked really really hard to burn 350 calories. If I eat this chocolate bar now, will it be worth nearly 'cancelling out' all of the sweat and effort I just put in to burning the equivalent amount from my body?" Sometimes the answer is yes, and sometimes no. But at least I know that I have stopped to evaluate my choices, and by attaching a real experience (the sweat and pain I endured at the gym) to what I am putting into my body, I have a better understanding of what the food that I am eating will mean to my exercise regime in upcoming days.

I hope this helps. Like I said, some people don't operate by imagining the "trade off" between food and exercise, but this is a really effective tool for me when I am struggling to make good choices for my mind and body.

And my former coworker? She lost about 95 pounds and not only looks amazing, but is healthy and vibrant and able to do so much more than before. May the margarine tub illustration live on!

My blog-friend OTC (mentioned in last post) has begun a running program called "The Couch-to-5K Running Plan". Her commitment to get in shape has inspired me! As you know, I am still engaged in the battle for BB 07, and I do visit the gym at least 4 times a week. I do cardio every time, and alternate between working my upper and lower body with each visit.

Altogether, I'd say I do a pretty respectable job of working up a sweat. I have noticed some great new muscle tone developing, and overall, I look leaner and trimmer. There is just one little problem . . . there is still fat everywhere!

Okay, maybe not everywhere. But I'm sure most of you female readers understand what I am going through, here. I used to be very fit and ran for an hour almost every day, and then did weights AND another half hour of cardio after that. Five days a week . . . back when I had no life!! Nowadays, I am a very busy girl who is just trying to stay healthy and fit and is struggling to find the time to do even that!

The problem isn't so much my physical condition now-- I mean, it's not that bad. It's just that once you've had a taste of being at your fitness peak, of fitting into anything you try on and looking great, of getting compliments all the time on your shape, well, it's hard to go back. This is what I'm referring to when I say that I'm sure most female readers understand this feeling- it's the knowledge that you aren't what you used to be, and it's hard to come to grips with.

So, in the endeavor to put aside my feelings of frustration and self-loathing everytime I look longingly at the tiny pairs of jeans littering my closet that I just can't quite do up anymore, I have taken up this running plan with OTC as my accountability partner! Though I don't think that either of us are quite at the point where we are going from the couch, as the name of the plan suggests, I am taking comfort in the fact that if the plan is made for couch potatoes, it can't be that hard!

I just got home from doing my first workout of week two. I'm feeling good, and hoping that this will be the kickstart that my little self-help body-scultping regime needs. After all, it is March and I seem to have plateaued at a weight loss of 10 pounds since the beginning of the year that I just can't seem to budge past. Sometimes a bit of variety is all you need to push yourself past that roadblock. Let's keep our fingers crossed that turning back to running once more is just the variety I need!

Thanks, On the Cusp, for the comment- I do need to get myself updating, don't I?! Sorry about the delay . . . it's funny how when things are going right in life you tend to neglect certain pursuits. I find the same thing happens with prayer. I always pray when things are going wrong or I don't know what to do, but when everything seems right, I just forget about communicating with the Higher Being. I'm not sure what that says about me, but hey, at least I'm honest!

Yes, things have been "hot and heavy" with Feb lately. He LOVES his webcam, and I think it really is very helpful for us. Seeing someone makes such a huge difference when you talk to them- it really cuts down on the little snarls and arguments that can arise from only hearing their voice. I can see when he is joking, I can see when he is getting frustrated, and I can see his beautiful smile . . . how could I possibly ever get mad again!?

Basically, things are going well between us. I am still hesitant to tell him how I feel. He knows it, and sometimes asks me if I am holding back because I don't want to be hurt. I just say yes. I think it's good that he knows that I am still wary of him; it keeps us both on our toes. I am simply not interested in having any sort of pretense in this relationship, so if I am scared of him, he is going to know it!

In other news, I am in the middle of (count 'em!) three group projects for school right now! It is utter madness, especially since one of my groups appears to have, collectively, a grade four reading and writing level. It is honestly disgraceful. Basically what happens is that I collect the work that each of us brings in each week, take it home, and rewrite ALL of it. I make it understandable, replace made-up words with real ones, add adjectives and lots of nice description, and try to make it something that anyone with an education beyond grade seven might enjoy reading. It really is that bad.

Aside from doing four times the amount of normal work that I should be doing with that one group, however, my other projects are coming along nicely and I'm looking forward to the end of the term in a few weeks. Feb is all concerned about me starting my new classes, but I have told him that they will begin in April, and I will see them through to completion- I need to get this designation if I want my dream job! After that, the possibilities of when I may go to Foreignland will be open for discussion . . .

Have no fear, everyone! Feb and I have worked things out. I was finally honest with him and told him just how much I really do care about and miss him. He has started to be more honest in conversation and to tell me how he's feeling on a regular basis.

He was scared to say how he felt because he thought he would sound stupid- you know, he left Canada, but now he says that he misses me. He thought that I would not believe him or not want to hear it when in reality, I really need to hear that. I'm not going to travel across the world for someone who doesn't make me believe that they want me to! So we are being careful to tell each other exactly what we are feeling, and it's going really well!

Being so far apart really does make it harder, though. I have decided that, if all goes well, I will head out to Foreignland again at the end of the summer. I have obligations here until that time- work, school, some volunteer stuff I do- that I really can't turn my back on, but at the end of August, I intend to go see him.

Readers, I'm so excited! And, guess what! Feb's birthday is coming up in a few days, and I bought him the coolest thing . . . a webcam! Now I know that to many of you, that is not an exciting present, but I really think he will be thrilled! You see, he has been asking me to get a webcam so that we can see each other while we talk online. In fact, he has been asking me to do that since our first separation period (when I was waiting for him to come out here) which was well over a year ago. I always said no, and I'm not really sure why. I think it is because I had weird connotations with webcams, thanks to some of the sketchy stuff that floats around on YouTube. I also like the idea that I can talk to him while I'm in my pajamas with no makeup and frizzy hair and it doesn't matter because he can't see me.

But I've realized that Feb's seen me like that before. It really doesn't matter to him if I look perfect all the time, and heaven knows that he's seen me at my worst and still wants me! I've also realized just how visual he really is. I know that guys in general are visually stimulated, and seeing things is really important for their learning and enjoyment, and maybe I'm just not aware of the extent of that, but it seems that Feb is even more visually jump-started than most guys. I mean, when I send him a simple picture of me, he can be excited about it for a week! I've decided that if it will be that exciting and wonderful for him, it really is worth it for me to cave in and get us webcam-enabled.

So, I went and bought two nice webcams and one is on its way to Foreignland as I type. The other is sitting on my computer and I have already tried it out a few times and discovered it is not as scary as I thought it would be.

Maybe, just maybe, Readers, things will be okay.

I spent most of the day today crying.

I am so confused again, Readers. Feb and I had a bit of a disagreement the other night- he wanted me to commit to coming back to Foreignland to see him, and I played hard-to-get and wouldn't give him that confirmation. Not only did I want to see how he would react, but I am still scared and unsure of the intensity and purity of his commitment to me. I guess I should have just been honest with him, but I wanted to see what he would say if I told him I was thinking of taking more courses that would keep me here until December.

He was so angry. He felt that I just didn't care about us being together. Then he did the male thing where he got all cold and started treating me like a stranger, refusing to talk and try to work the problem out.

I eventually told him that nothing was going to come out of this conversation, that I had a final exam AND a big project due the next morning, and as it was nearly midnight, that I should go.

I had an email the next morning from him with a quasi-apology, stating that he was "tired" and it made him act meanly. He said that he was sorry, though, which was nice.

I wrote back later that day and told him in many words how his behaviour made me feel. You see, Readers, it is really important to me that he know that when he shuts down and won't communicate with me, it really hurts me. I wanted him to know that it simply isn't an appropriate way to deal with miscommunications and fights. I told him that if he wants to rebuild my trust for him, he has to act in ways that cause me to want to trust him.

I got an email back this morning that said this:

"Hi. Thanks for the email.

You’ve made something pretty clear to me that I don’t think I realised myself. I'm not ready to put in the amount of work that this is going to take. I can’t do the phone and email thing any more, and that is where you are at at the moment. I'm not trying to hurt or punish you because you feel differently to me, I'm just trying to be real with you. However, that is exactly it. You feel differently to me.

I'm sorry that I made you feel like I didn’t care about you. Whether you can trust me or not, I hope you can believe that that was never my intention.

I think we could have been great together but the distance, along with our feelings from the past seem like too much of a hurdle.

I hope you understand where I am coming from.

Feb."


And now my heart is breaking all over again, and I don't know what to do.

I am so sorry it's been so long since I last posted! I have been in the throes of finishing one of my marketing courses and have a HUGE project due tomorrow, as well as a final exam. So I have been a busy girl and have not kept up my regular delightful interaction with all of you!

But I do have things to share, Readers. Most importantly . . .

Feb found the blog.

Actually, "found" is really not the right word. Feb searched out the blog. I was looking at my stats and seeing where people were coming to the site from, and I noticed one visitor came from a blog search engine. What had they used as the search terms? A quote from this post, which I quoted to Feb in one of my emails.

So I clicked on the details for that reader, and sure enough, his IP address was located in Foreignland, in the very state in which Feb lives.

Coincidence? I think not. What do you think, Readers? I told Feb when I sent him an excerpt from that post that I had a blog which none of my friends knew about- it was a place where I could be completely honest and not have to censor myself for anyone or anything. He knew that I wanted to keep it private, and I told him that I wanted to send him part of the post because I wanted him to be able to read how I felt at the moment I felt it, rather than trying to remember things after time had passed.

So the question is . . . is he a scroundrel for invading my privacy and reading all my innermost thoughts? Or am I a scoundrel for revealing my innermost thoughts to all of you, but not the person whom they are about?

I feel like my life is a soap opera.

Well, not really, because I don't have a twin sister who was in a coma and has now come back to kill my half-cousin-twice-removed who is also my boyfriend, whose love child I am carrying . . . or is it my uncles? But, I do feel like there are so many crazy developments in my life lately that I never know which ones to share with you all and the best ways in which to do it!

I'll start with the easy stuff. There is a new guy at the Restaurant, and let me tell you, the ladies think he is Hot Stuff. There was much discussion today about the his deep voice, his tanned skin, and his shapely derriere. (That part I just don't get- I really am not a girl who checks out a man's behind. It is probably the last thing I would ever look at in a guy! I guess I just feel that having a great looking ass is our territory.) He's nice, I guess, but a little too quiet- not very outgoing or friendly or funny. . . maybe all that will come with time. Overall, he's just not my type.

Apparently our new friend doesn't feel the same way. It would seem that I am very much his type, and he spent the whole day following me around, clearing and wiping my tables, and asking me questions. All that I could handle. Things got weird, however, when, after having spent some time on the staff phone, New Guy hung up with a triumphant smile and promptly asked me if I had any new tables. I checked, and as I did have a couple, headed out into the restaurant.

One of said new tables was a two-top, two strapping young men who were very polite and ordered ice waters and a couple of causal entrees. As I was punching everything in on the computer, the guy on the right called my name.

"L," he said, "is there by any chance a new guy working today?" I nodded. "Oh. That's good. How is he doing?" I replied that I hadn't really spent much time with him, but he seemed nice enough and was learning quickly.

This is the strange part, Readers. The guy proceeded to grill me on how I felt about New Guy, about his looks and his manners and his work ethic and his attractiveness . . . it was the most uncomfortable moment and I tried to get out of it as soon as possible. The guy finished by asking me to send New Guy over.

I went to the back to let him know that someone was looking for him, and New Guy broke into a huge smile and said, "Oh yeah! I know! That's my roommate!"

Readers! Is this not completely inappropriate and abnormal? New Guy recruited his roommate and a friend to come in on his first day and interrogate one of his brand new co-workers about his sex appeal! I think that is so. weird.

I will try to write the rest of my soap-opera day to you later tonight. For now, I am off to work on a midterm paper that is due in a couple of days!

I have a lot of reading to do, and was hoping to get some exercise in before going to class tonight, but I really thought I should let you all know what is going on! It has been an eventful few days to say the least, Readers, and I have so much to say, I don't even know where to start!

I responded to Feb's email pretty cautiously- I basically told him that he needed to figure things out for himself, as I am definitely not in any position to tell him how he feels about me! He replied by asking how I feel. I replied even more cautiously and told him that I would maybe-possibly-one-day-by-chance-maybe be open to trying again with him, but I was very clear that it would mean hard work and lots of time. I also told him straight out that my trust in him is greatly diminished after his disappearing act from Canada in December, and let him know that I was scared out of my mind of what kind of damage he could do to my heart if this all went awry again.

Then, Readers, I did something that I think is very brave. I sent him an excerpt from my last post. I told him that I had written it right after getting his email, so it was a very honest representation of how exactly I was feeling, which was what he proclaimed to want to know. That excerpt, you will remember, was very clear about the whole moving issue- how I want a man who will go anywhere to be with me and do not want one who will not compromise on this issue.

I was so scared as I hit "send" on that email. I just knew that he would read those words, reaffirm to himself how badly he wants to remain in Foreignland, and dismiss once and for all the notion of being with me. I felt sick and wondered if I should have waited on addressing that issue. Why not just get back into a routine with him, let him fall in love with me again, and then bring up the Foreignland-Canada conundrum later and hope he was so besotted with me that it wouldn't matter this time?

I was very patient for about twenty minutes while I waited for a response. Then I couldn't handle it anymore and sent him a text message that said "I emailed a response! Wake up and read it!" About twenty minutes after that, I received a phone call.

Readers, the next two hours are a blur. I can tell you the important parts though. Feb finally told me the real reasons that he left Canada. When he left, he told me that our different countries were the biggest problem, and that he just didn't care for me anymore. I couldn't quite believe that. I just couldn't comprehend how over a year of kisses and relationship and memories and laughter and working things out could boil down to just that, but I really had no choice in the matter. He left.

Then, after months of agonizing and rehashing and analyzing and trying to forget, I finally got to hear the truth. The short of it is, Feb panicked. He looked at himself and how young he is and just wanted to go home and party and live life for him and him alone without being "tied down". He wanted to be selfish, and having a serious girlfriend (or wife, as we were discussing at that point) just did not fit into that picture.

After a couple weeks of that, he told me, Feb started to realize that his plan wasn't working. His friends were no replacement for me, constant drinking was leaving him feeling emptier than when he started, and his life was not looking the way he wanted it to. He started to reevaluate his goals and his emotions and what he wants in the long run. He prayed and read books and asked people for advice. He looked at how he wants to live overall and then he told me this, Readers:

"L, I realized that when I wanted to live selfishly and stupidly, I didn't want you in my life because you just didn't fit there. Now, I want my life to be about so much more than it is, and when I look at it that way, I realize that you are the perfect fit for me. I'm sorry for stuffing up. I see now that if we are absolutely, clearly supposed to be together, where I live couldn't matter less."

Oh wow.

I was silent. I cried. I thought and took deep breaths and cried some more. I smiled, hugely, because I couldn't keep one from creeping onto my face.

And I told him that I would need time and that I wanted him to be so sure of all this because I really couldn't take it again if he changed his mind. We agreed that we would take it slow, keep talking and getting to know each other again, and then we would see if things are supposed to "happen" with us for a second round.

He sent me another email that night- here's part of it:

" . . . I realise that this is a risk for you, and I hope you understand how seriously I take it. Whether you are my girlfriend or not, I am still very protective of you and would do anything to keep you from being hurt. At the moment, I am looking at myself, my intentions and my past experience to work out how to keep you safe throughout this now. I am thinking things through long and hard, and am trying to put what is best for you at the forefront of my decisions . . . "

Readers, I feel so many things! I am nervous and excited and scared and thrilled . . . I think we are both aware that if we do decide to "reunite", it will be for good this time. The stress of going back and forth between Foreignland and Canada is too much, and if we decide that we are meant to be, it will be forever.

Thank you all so much for your input! Your comments helped me realize that I had to be honest and firm about how I felt about the moving-for-each-other issue because it is the one point I can't negotiate on. And, sick as it made me at the time, I now realize that was the best thing I could have done! He said that reading that excerpt from the blog was so good for him- he said it was so honest and real and he really valued knowing how I felt. So thank you for caring enough to let me know what you think- it means so much to me!

Things are still very tentative and exploratory, but I think that for now, at least, it will all be okay. I have a lot of trust issues to deal with, and am still very afraid in a lot of ways, but I guess that all just takes time.

We'll see!

Readers, it is time for another update from my personal life. I don't know whether you like hearing these or not, but remember, this blog is primarily for my own personal catharsis, so if you don't like it . . . go visit Subservient Worker for some laughs!

Poor Feb has a broken nose and has been calling on me for long talks and companionship quite a bit over the last few days. He even asked me to create a "Get Well Video" for him, which I did, and we spent about four hours talking while attempting numerous times to somehow send the massive file over the internet. It finally worked, he loved the video, and I got to go to bed at 3 30 am.

After our very long talk, Feb sent me an email. It wasn't very flowery. It basically said, "I miss you but I'm not saying I love you, but I don't know if I miss you because I'm used to being around you or if I actually made a big mistake. I have noticed that my friends don't seem to make up for your absence, but I really am just confused and don't know what I want."

Readers, I am a romantic. I want to be swept off my feet and to feel overwhelmed and special and important. This email made me feel none of those things. On the other hand, however, I think Feb was being very honest with me, which I appreciate. But while it did let me know that Feb thinks he may still have feelings for me, it also made me feel very undesired and not especially sought after.

Let's face it, Readers, every woman wants to feel sought after. She wants to feel cared for and desired and loved and needed and she wants to know that her man would go to the ends of the earth for her. This is the other Big Problem with Feb's email. It contained this line, quoted exactly:

" . . . I also know (whether you like it or not) that I want to live in [Foreignland]. You’ve told me before that you don’t agree with me saying that, but I do. . . "

You see, this was the major problem in our relationship. Like any long-distance couple, Feb and I were torn between who would inevitably have to give up their country and their home if we eventually were going to live together. I was more than willing to move to Foreignland, but Feb was not willing at all to move to Canada.

And this is the issue- it's not that I mind moving away for someone I love, it's that I don't want to move away for someone who doesn't love me enough in return to be willing do the same. It's the principle of it all- I need him to love me so much that he'd move across the world for me. Whether I actually ask him to or not is beside the point. It is difficult to know that you are the only one willing to compromise.

So now I feel like I have been given an ultimatum. Feb is basically, I believe, asking me if I am still interested in him, yet he is warning me far in advance that I must be willing to go to him if I want us to work. He is simply not willing to live anywhere but his homeland.

Is this fair? I suppose all is fair in love and war . . . but I feel hurt and confused and I wish things were just easier. I haven't answered his email yet, but he asked tonight that I would as soon as possible. He says he has another email to send me, but he can't until he receives my reply.

Wish me luck readers. Feel free to offer heaps of advice in the comments section! I'll carefully review all your ideas, I promise!

I am just on my way out the door to a dinner party, but I just had to post this quick story for you all!

After living in Foreignland for half a year, and having been with Feb for well over a year, I have become accustomed to hearing and speaking an abundance of culturally different words and phrases. For instance, "root beer" is an endlessly funny term in Foreignland because in that country, "to root" is slang for having sex. They also mercilessly mock foreigners who sport the Canadian Roots brand clothing and apparel. Similarly, the word "fanny" is an innocent North American euphemism for bottom, or sometimes the name of an elderly aunt, but in Foreignland, the word is a rather vulgar one that refers to the female genitalia! (I hope this post doesn't attract any unsavory traffic on my blog!)

Over the Christmas season at the Restaurant all the stores compete to see which one can sell the most gift certificates before the holidays are over. The store which ends up with top sales wins a chunk of money that goes toward a special post-Christmas staff party and awards night. My store has won every year since I can remember, and we all enjoy a night out together where we can be served rather than serving; plus, it's always a bonus to see your work friends out of their dress code. It reminds you that they're human and actually have a sense of style!

This year, as usual, we won the contest. The managers, whose pride was on the line and were pushing us to sell the gift certificates hard, were ecstatic and decided to post this encouraging note on the wall in our waitstation, which I noticed today as I walked past:

" . . . And finally, we want to congratulate you all on your hard work selling GC's during the holiday competition! Thanks to everyone for your efforts- as usual, because of you, we really kicked some fanny!"

I almost choked.

I read it again. This time I laughed.

Too much time spent absorbing Foreignland "culture" has left me with an accidentally dirty mind!

a picture of me- almost!

Now, SkippyMom posted a nice little collage of her hubby and his celebrity lookalikes awhile back. All you do is submit your picture and the website processes it and computes your lookalikes, along with a percentage of how much they look like you. It tickled my fancy so much that I had to do one of my own!

Unfortunately, I can't let you all see my picture in the middle of it because I really can't reveal my identity, but I do promise I submitted my own real picture to make the collage. I'm a little afraid of the fact that Paris Hilton appears on here, as well as some boy celebrity I've never heard of, but I am consoling myself with the fact that 1) the boy is very girly looking, and 2) I do wear Paris' perfume, so I guess this serves me right. Anyway, this way you can have a small idea of what I look like without the big reveal!

Enjoy! And go make your own!

I have a degree from a well respected university. I just graduated in the spring, and I have been working dutifully at the Restaurant since. Many people ask me why I haven't gotten a "real" job, and it's quite simple, really. Before Feb was Feb (he was just Foreign Boyfriend back then), I was holding off on getting involved in a grown-up job because we were going to go back to Foreignland together. I didn't want to get full-time career work, just to up and leave after a few months for a far away land.

Now that Feb is gone, I have been listlessly and half-heartedly searching for a job, and have found lots that are appealing and spark my interest. There is one problem: I am not qualified for any of them. You see, readers, my degree is in English literature . . . and I don't want to be a teacher. This is a major problem. I don't regret my education; I love literature and thoroughly enjoyed school, and I believe that I have gained amazing skills that no other degree could have given me. However, having turned my back on my former job aspiration (journalism), I found myself at a loss when Feb left. I always assumed I would find something wonderful to work at in Foreignland where we would settle down happily for awhile before jetsetting around the world a few times until we wanted to make babies.

So, having rediscovered my independence and don't-need-to-worry-about-anyone-else-ness, I have gone back to school! That's right, readers, I now take part time classes on a full time schedule and work during the day. It all feels so grown up. It reminds me of the Full House episode where Uncle Jesse goes back to get his high school diploma and takes night classes and has to learn poetry. Except that I already know enough poetry to make the world go round, and am now sitting through hours and hours of lectures about economics and the market and the world of business.

Yes, I am enrolled in business classes. I have decided to become an event coordinator and marketer, and I really do find my classes fascinating and exciting. The only problem is, my shortest class is three hours long, while my longest (which I had today) is seven. SEVEN HOURS, readers. That really is incomprehensible to me. Don't these people know that I have the attention span of an eight year old child? Do they realize that I can't watch a movie without asking a million questions about what's going on because I am not patient enough to be quiet and find out? The longest class I ever took in four years at Respectable U was fifty minutes, and that was quite enough for me.

The good thing about the seven hour class is that because it's sooo long, I only have to go to it for six weeks. That means it is over with soon, but it also means that the midterm is in the third class! In addition, I have to leave my car in a sketchy parking lot near the closest transit pick up while I ride the bus for an hour to get to New School. Today, that parking lot overwhelmed my little car with a massive dose of sketchiness- I got a parking ticket! In a parking lot! Apparently the lot has a maximum stay of three hours, which is posted nowhere on any sign to be seen. Since my car was there for approximately nine hours while I went to the world's longest freakin' class, I can't deny that I deserved said ticket, though that does not stop me from being one angry girl. The ticket is $45, which really is not that much, but then I think that on a slow day at work, that could be all my tips right there! Gone! And it's not like I'm getting anything for that money! It just goes into some evil sketchy parking lot owner's wallet, while I, the poor student, struggles to keep my dry, red eyes from glazing over as a balding middle aged man drones into his sixth hour of speaking about pie charts and keeping the consumer happy!

What is this world coming to?

There is a new drama unfolding within my circle of friends, and I have been sworn to secrecy. Naturally, I need to get it all out somewhere, or all the sordid details will escape my lips at some unguarded (and most likely inopportune) moment.

Emma, one of my dearest friends in the world, has a younger brother, James, whom used to also be one of my dearest friends in the world. Unfortunately, we have drifted apart over the years, though we are very fond of each other still, and enjoy ourselves thoroughly when we occasionally find the chance to spend time together.

James is the only male child of four in his family, and he is their golden boy. He is a musician, and is free-spirited and fun loving; really, he refuses to grow up. He is never not involved in a band, usually as the lead singer, and is actually making quite a name for himself with his latest group. The are heavily involved in the local music scene, and have even managed to tour Canada a few times in the last few years. As most lead singers are (and I know- I dated one for many years), James is a ladies man. He is tall, dark, and handsome, and his unique voice and considerable skill on the guitar draw the girls to him non stop. He is never without a girlfriend, and the last few months have been no exception.

I met Vickie for the first time about six months ago. She is a tiny waif of a girl who couldn't be older than 20, short with a slight build, pixie-cut hair, and an adorable face. She was friendly, but seemed a bit reluctant to speak; when she finally did open up and talk, I was surprised to hear her boast at length about her athletic accomplishments and her history as a professional wakeboarder.

Yes, you read right. A professional wakeboarder. I found it hard to believe, too, and wanted to ask some probing questions, but James was holding her hand and nodding and smiling energetically. Well, I thought, obviously James knows her and knows it's true, so I'll just leave it. I forgot about Vickie within the week. I later heard from close friend Emma that James had broken up with her and that Vickie has gone, in his words, "psycho". She apparently was calling him and texting him at all hours, drunk as a skunk, and threatening to do bodily harm to herself if he did not take her back. She stopped showing up for her job as a barista at the local bux, and just generally went over the top in her post-breakup grief. I remember thinking it all seemed a little strange, hoping she would be okay, and then forgetting about it all again.

Until, a few months ago, I was out for coffee with Emma when who should walk through the door but James and Vickie! I looked wide-eyed at Emma, and she quickly explained that they were back together, and Vickie was, apparently, back to normal. I nodded and turned with a big smile to greet my friend and his, er, friend. They seemed happy and energetic and she was back to smiling sweetly and being tinily cute. Or cutely tiny. Maybe both.

Fast forward to a week before Christmas. I am hanging out with Emma and her husband and her in-laws (it's a whole other story), eating dinner and preparing to watch some boy-oriented action movie, when the phone rings. Dave (the husband) answers it in the other room, and after a few minutes of murmuring, he calls Emma in to talk. After more murmurs, Emma comes back out and gives me the look. Now, all females know The Look. It signifies that there is something major going on, but we can't talk about it, so we will try our damndest to communicate the entire story with our eyes alone. Sometimes it works. This time, I got the gist of it, but when Em whispered, "There's a problem with James", I knew the rest. Since she didn't want to divulge all in front of the in-laws, we ran outside to talk.

Vickie had just told James that she was pregnant. Shell-shocked, and without a clue what to do, James called his older sister and asked her to be there when he told his parents. You see, Emma and James' parents come from a long line of reverends and church-goers, and they believe very firmly in the Bible and all that it teaches . . . including saving sex for the bonds of marriage. The tough part is, it is not as though James had always disagreed and decided to live differently than his parents wished. He, too, had proclaimed the virtues of abstinence and was a strong and unashamed example of his beliefs to everyone around him. Vicki, too, goes to a religious university where upon admission, each student signs a contract stating they will not be sexually active unless they are married. If this contract is broken, so is their clause of admission, and the student may be kicked out of the university. So when the news came out in the family, it was tough on all of them.

But of course, everyone makes mistakes and accidents happen. So James' family tried to be welcoming to Vickie and did their best to encourage and educate them as a couple. I can't tell you how many phone calls Emma got from James, asking her questions about how to prepare a nutritionally sound meal for his pregnant girlfriend, or begging advice on pre-natal supplements. The young couple were just that- young and clueless about even the simplest things. It turned out that Vickie couldn't keep the supplements down due to malnutrition; the poor girl didn't even know how to feed herself properly, never mind a child.

The situation started to deteriorate, and fast. Emma tried to set up multiple coffee dates with Vickie, but after each one, James would come to Emma with reports that she had tried to shame Vickie, or force unwanted advice on her. Emma didn't understand how the conversations could have become so manipulated in Vickie's mind, and tried to text message her or call her to sort things out. But it was no use. Vickie became more and more convinced that James' family hated her, and would cry and scream outside his home, refusing to come in and talk to them all. it got to the point where Vickie would refuse to see James unless they were alone, and then she would spend their entire time together yelling at him and threatening to run off.

James was beside himself. He simply did not know what to do. He tried to only meet her in public places so that she couldn't make a scene, but then she would refuse to see him at all. She told him that he had better find an engagement ring for her, and fast, because she would not be disgraced this way. He tried to borrow the money for a ring from his parents (remember what I told you, he is young and irresponsible- he has no savings whatsoever), but they refused outright when they found out what he needed the cash for.

The whole situation was still a family secret, with me being the only one outside the clan who knew all the sordid details. As Emma relayed all this information to me, I started to wonder. We compared some of the information that Vickie had been passing along about the pregnancy with some of the dates she had also provided, and then we started wondering about this baby. Many of the dates just didn't seem to add up properly- she claimed to be six weeks along by the time she told James, and then told him that the doctor said you could hear the heartbeat at two months. Four weeks later, she told everyone that she was going to the doctor, but no, they wouldn't be able to hear the heartbeat for another two or three weeks. These kinds of little details kept getting turned around until nothing seemed to make sense, and Emma and I speculated privately whether there really was a baby at all.

After he refused to propose, the situation went from bad to worse. It was now impossible for James to see her without a huge scene, and more often than not, when he tried to contact her, she would answer her phone and say she was driving around and didn't want to live anymore. Then she'd hang up and no one could contact her. I spent many nights sitting with Emma and Dave by their phone, periodically calling Vickie and getting no answer, waiting for news from the rest of the family, praying that the baby and its stressed out mother would be okay. Finally, on Christmas Eve, James asked Vickie if he could see her. He tried to invite her to spend Christmas with the family (she only has her mother, who, according to Vickie, takes frequent drugs and has no use for her child), but when he arrived with his siblings waiting for him in the car, Vickie flipped out and refused to talk. He finally told her that he wanted to be a part of their baby's life, and would support and help her while she was pregnant and in all ways related to their child, but he did not want to be a part of Vickie's life romantically or in any other way. She stormed off and he did not see her over Christmas.

The latest news arrived yesterday. Vickie had a miscarriage. Over a week later, she got a D & C to help her heal and recover. This is where more sketchiness kicks in. James' other sister tells me that generally, a woman gets a D & C right away after a miscarriage, otherwise the after effects can be dangerous or even fatal. The fact that Vickie waited so long implies that there is something wrong with her story. James is questioning whether there ever was a pregnancy, as Vickie refused to let him come to the doctor until he could hear the heartbeat of the child. Everyone else is wondering the same thing, or if Vickie possibly got an abortion.

Along with, I suspect, nearly everyone else involved, I personally subscribe to the theory that Vickie was never pregnant at all, but rather a confused girl attempting to get what she wanted in life (James for a husband) in a rather misguided way. As far as I know, the family is attempting again to encourage and help Vickie, but she wants none of it. James doesn't know what to do, and there is really no way to ever tell what, if anything, went on in his girlfriend's body. I don't know what is going to happen next, but I truly hope for everyone's sake that this saga is over. None of the people involved deserve the pain and stress that they have experienced this holiday season.

Readers, you may recall that I am engaged in an epic struggle right now. You see, I am battling it out for the title of Best Body 2007, and unfortunately, the most exercise that 2007 has held for me so far has been at the mall where the only way to get to my favorite store is to go up an escalator. Now, in my defense, I always choose to walk up the escalator, rather than let it do all the work for me, but I am the first to admit that climbing up one set of moving stairs in a weekend is not exactly preparing me for the Ironwoman competition.

One reason that I have not yet formed incredibly healthy exercise habits is that I have been waiting for my student card to come through from my new post-secondary institution. You see, my card from my alma mater university expired in August, and my last gym pass lasted until December, but I cannot renew my membership at the reduced student rate without a valid student card. Now I finally have the new card and can buy a new gym pass at the rate reserved specially for poverty-stricken (but educated!) young people like myself. I intend to do this tomorrow, first thing after work.

Since I have had to wait to commence my exercise regimen, I have been taking other measures to jumpstart my body-reforming program for the new year. I have begun consuming a lot of homemade cabbage soup, which has little to no calories, and with the addition of hot sauce for some flavor, is great before a meal to help fill me up a bit before I ravage my main meal like a wild animal.

I am trying to eat mostly salads with a healthy protein, like grilled chicken. You have no idea how hard this is when you work at a restaurant. Not only are you surrounded by food all day long, but it is delicious gourmet food, prepared with delectable things like heavy cream, real butter, lots of garlic, and perfectly aged cheeses. Plus, this bevy of delights is available at a deliciously reduced price, courtesy of our staff discount. As if that weren't enough, whenever the kitchen makes a mistake, or an extra order of food is made that can't be used and hasn't gone out to the table, the food is placed in the back where it is almost instantly devoured by whatever serving staff is lucky enough to be hanging around at that moment. This can be anything from a small salad to a premium sirloin to a chocolate torte, and when you are on your feet for hours on end, any morsel is likely to tempt you; it is extremely hard to resist. So readers, cut me some slack if I take some time to succeed in my quest for bodily beauty while at my humble workplace. No wait, forget that- cut me no slack! Challenge and motivate me instead!

I have also begun to take vitamins. These are not just any vitamins, though- they are high quality, mail-order, you-must-know-a-dealer-to-get-them vitamins. My parents both take them and swear by them, and insist that I take no other kind, so I have given in and let them order stacks of them for me through their shady vitamin-dealer friends. They come in the mail with fancy packaging and free samples of their nutrition bars and spa-quality skin care products, which I happily use up while swallowing the massive pills that are chock full of essential nutrients.

I don't mind taking the vitamins and minerals, when I can remember to, but there is one pill that I am having a lot of trouble stomaching. You see, I don't eat any red meat, pork, or seafood, and thus try to be careful to consume important nutrients from other sources. One of these nutrients is Omega-3 fatty acids, which are necessary for proper cardiac function and are great for the brain, not to metion the skin and hair. Since Omega-3s are found most densely in fish, I have a problem getting them. Therefore, I have let my parents order me some fish oil capsules that apparently contain all those great fatty acids without the trauma of actually having to eat some sea-born creature.

Sounds like the perfect solution, right? Not quite. The problem is, those hefty little capsules really do contain pure fish oil, and it is potent stuff. So even though I take them with meals and plenty of water, every hiccup and exhalation and even the tiniest burp for an hour or so after I've taken the dosage tastes like briny, fresher-than-fresh fish. It is positively disgusting. It probably smells like fish, too, though no one's ever really been close enough to be affected . . . yet.

I don't know what to do! I am plagued by the necessary fishiness of my desired healthiness! I do want to have a glowing complexion and shiny hair, and I certainly value my cerebral and cardiac functions, but I just don't know if the fishy trade-off is worth it!

If you have any suggestions, readers, do let me know. In the meantime, I will do some research on other significant sources of Omega-3s, and try to keep my exhalations to myself.

Part II

So, Feb agreed to treat me with the distance and respect that an ex-girlfriend usually receives from the man who broke up with her. He managed to actually back off for a while and we spoke less often and emailed only every three days or so; his words were friendly and interested, but no longer laced with innuendos and sexual comments. I definitely noticed the difference in my daily life: I thought about him only occasionally, and my heart ached less often. It was, as Martha would say, a good thing.

But then New Year's Day came. I woke up disgustingly early to go to work and practiced my double-tasking by brushing my teeth as I checked my morning emails, trying to ignore the persistent day-after-New-Year's-Eve headache. I received the normal spam and quick notes from friends, but also a very large email from Feb. As my tired eyes skimmed the message, my headache worsened.

The email was long and fraught with tones of helplessness and desperation. Feb's life is not proceeding the way that he wants it too. He is having issues in nearly every area that one could have issues in their life- social, spiritual, vocational, and of course personal. He outlined the main areas of his plight, then filled in the details and asked for my advice and honest opinion of what he should do.

Readers, this is not the email I was expecting. You see, this email was one that a person would only send to a very trusted friend. This email was brutally honest and heartfelt and painful and asked for an honest and potentially painful answer. This email assumed an intimacy that most broken-up couples, especially the male half, like to pretend never was shared with their ex-partner.

I didn't know what to say. I went to work that day with a burdened mind, and I thought about how to respond all throughout my shift. I prayed for wisdom and sensitivity and I wished that I could go to him and hold him and soothe him and kiss his worry lines away as I had so many times. I wished that I didn't have to be just an advice-giving friend. Then I went home and poured everything I could into a long message back- I tried to be encouraging, but I knew I was also brutally, frighteningly honest, and as I hit "send", I wished I could take it back- I was worried about how he would receive the things I had to say.

The next night we caught up with each other, briefly, on MSN. Incidentally, this is my least favorite way ever to communicate with someone, but more on that later. We only had a few moments to speak, but in that time he managed to say a lot.

Feb told me that he had never really comprehended just how well I understand him. He told me that my words were invaluable, that they were comforting and challenging; he even told me that he was going to seriously consider some of my suggestions, and asked my opinion on his interpretation of one. It was a wonderful moment- Feb and I were communicating on a level plane. He wasn't trying to come on to me or manipulate the conversation into some sort of sexual cat-and-mouse-game, and I wasn't trying to figure out how to get him back to Canada. We were simply listening to each other and respecting each other and trying together to find a way to deal with life.

Now, readers, you are asking why such a nice exchange has left me in a nasty, sales clerk-hating mood, aren't you? It's because I have not heard a word from Feb since. Actually, that's not true. We spoke briefly on the phone yesterday, and our conversation went roughly like this:

LM: Hey! It's good to hear your voice!

Feb: You too. Can't talk long.

LM: (confused because he called her) Okay. Listen what happened on New Year's Eve . . . (wittily tells falling down story)

Feb: (laughs for awhile) Well, I have to go to a barbeque and swimming party. Then I have another barbeque at night. Two in one day! So I'd better go, I have a lot of friends to see.

That was seriously it. It was really strange. No mention of the emails, or how his life was changing and I'd had input in the direction of its course. It was like he only called to tell me how full his social calendar is.

Since that brief conversation I haven't heard a peep from him. I emailed one or two sentences, just checking in to make sure all is well because I usually receive a message a day, but I haven't heard back. I feel as though he turned to me to solve his problems, and upon receiving an answer, he can't be bothered to communicate anymore. And so I feel isolated and hurt- I want to scream to him that I have needs, too- this friendship or relationship or whatever it's supposed to be is not just about him!

But I haven't said any of that because that is what clingy ex-girlfriends say, isn't it. And so I pass another day, trying to ignore the dull, insistent pain in my chest whenever he crosses my mind, trying not to check the computer more than once, trying to forget about him altogether. And of course, trying to restrain my pent up emotions from exploding at poor Harley-In-Training, whom I will most certainly be seeing when I return that damn stereo tomorrow morning.

Part I

I'm in a foul mood tonight. I bought my mother a birthday present last month, a nice, much-needed new stereo, only to find out days before her big day that she had bought herself the exact same thing! I suppose that means that I know my mother and her tastes well, which is a good thing, but it also means that my clever birthday present idea was ruined.

I got over it, but now this means that I have a stereo on my hands that I, ever the procrastinator, must return to the store. After nearly a month, I finally got up the resolve tonight and drove to the massive electronics store from which I bought the unwanted present. The overeager sales clerk who greeted me the nano-second I walked in the door (his name tag identified him as "Harley, In Training") informed me that I was "not allowed" to return the item right now because the returns line had been too long all day and they had decided to cut it off for the night.

Readers, this did nothing to soothe my already prickly attitude. Because Harley was just a kid, and in training at that, I bit back most of my harsh response, but I'm afraid it was glaringly obvious that I was not a happy customer tonight. I don't like being told that I'm "not allowed" to return something that I paid good money for. But, since I'm in the service industry too, I reminded myself that he doesn't make the rules and removed my aggravated self from the store, driving home a little too fast.

Now, I can hear you all asking just how such a small incident could provoke in your faithful writer such a foul mood. And I will tell you- this incident was simply the proverbial straw that broke my back. I feel like so much has been building up this week, adding more and more weight on my mind. Since this blog exists solely for my personal catharsis, you all get to read about what exactly is going on that led to tonight's bout of rage at an innocent store clerk.

To tell you the truth, readers, you probably already know. I think that it's pretty obvious that Feb still has quite an influence on my life. I mean, I thought I could handle it when he went home to Foreignland- I thought that with him being on the other side of the world, it would be really easy to get over him. Afterall, one of the hardest parts of getting on with your life after a breakup is having to see the other person and letting all those old memories and feelings come to the surface, right?

So, in theory, this breakup should be no problem. But the opposite is true. Feb insists on emailing me nearly every day, and calling about once a week. We are still very much in contact, which means I am still very much in love! To make matters worse, up until a few days ago Feb was still flirting with me, complimenting me, and speaking to me the way a lover would . . . the way he did when we were together.

A few weeks after his departure, this was still going on, and I was getting more confused by the day, not to mention angry. I talked with some friends and we all agreed he was out of line and I had to talk to him about it. The problem, readers, is that I didn't want to! Some small part of me was enjoying the attention he was lavishing upon me, and an even smaller part believed, just a teeny tiny bit, that this attention meant that he still wanted me. Somewhere deep down I thought, "Wow, if he still talks and writes to me this way, maybe that means he'll ask me to come back to Foreignland . . . he must still love me!"

As nice as it would have been to continue on in this dream world, I knew it was the least helpful thing I could do for myself. The way he was treating really wasn't fair, and I knew it. So I called him on it- I told him that he was confusing me, and I asked him just what he wanted with me. He response: "I just know I want to be single right now."

Okay. Fine. Good, even. I think we both need some time to be single. We rushed into things very quickly together, and we are both pretty young. I understand how he's feeling, and I think it's the best for now. But I told him that the way he was communicating was inappropriate in light of how he viewed our relationship, and he agreed to treat me differently.

I think this must be continued- this is getting to be a ridiculously long post. Stay tuned for part two!

Happy New Year! I can't believe another year is gone. I know, I know, that is the least original thing anyone could ever write on New Year's Day, but it really is true. This time last year I was just back from my long stint in Foreignland and was glowing with new love and a nice tan. And now, here I am, still working at the Restaurant and desperately wishing my pasty white skin would magically revert back to its former bronzed glory.

But I digress . . . New Year's Eve! How was it for everyone? I have heard mostly reports of quiet nights spent at home with rented DVDs and a bottle of wine- most peculiar for my generation, but everyone seemed to want to keep things simple this year. I myself slaved away at the Restaurant all night, serving copious amounts of alcohol and basking in the generosity of my ruddy-faced patrons. Yes, readers, your writer enjoyed her New Year's Eve at work! Most of the people I waited on were happy as larry and were more than willing to expend large amounts of money in exchange for maintaining a nice buzz and efficient (and sparklingly witty, I might add) service.

The only low point of the night came when I was getting a first round of drinks for my last large (and unfortunately underage) party of the night. I had started the night off in a pair of ridiculously sexy heels, and enjoyed strutting my stuff for at least a good twenty minutes before I realized that slippery restaurant floors and sex kitten heels do not mix. After my third near-disaster, I sacrificed fashion and donned a pair of sensible ballet flats, silenty bemoaning my new look while simultaneously enjoying my much more confident negotiation of the wait station floor.

By the time I was preparing said drinks for my final party, I had been traipsing around in my flats for seven and a half hours. Having arranged the four large waters and five large iced teas on my tray (did I mention that this group were all under 18?!), I stepped around the corner of the wait station and promptly landed, hip down, on the tile floor. At this point I was covered in cold water, sticky iced tea, and shattered glass, and I was bleeding from several scrapes and glass wounds on my legs and feet.

Several staff rushed toward me, asking if I was okay, grabbing glass from the floor, offering to remake the drinks and to help me up. Now, readers, what do you think was going through my mind? One thought, and one thought alone: Standupandpullyourskirtdownstandupandpullyourskirtdownstandupandpull . . .

Yes. It really is just how you are imagining it. I lay on the floor, soaking wet and bleeding, in full view of a full restaurant of distinguished guests, with my beautiful New Year's Eve skirt around my waist and my stupid sensible ballet flats full of sweet tea.

Oh yes, New Year's Eve 2006 was certainly one for the books! But have no fear, for after I got cleaned up and my face returned to its normal (very) white color, we staff self-indulgently took five minutes and ignored our guests, ringing in the New Year with champagne and singing and the pleasure of each other's company. Even though we were all working, there is no substitute for the company of good friends, and it really was a night to remember- even the memory of my wounded pride and physical trauma is fading already!

Of course, the fact that my manager graciously bought me a few glasses of wine after closing may have something to do with that!

Happy New Year to one and all.