I've recently sworn off boys and caffeine. People keep asking me why. I've decided they're both bad for my heart, my health and my sanity.
I was working a couple weeks ago when one of my fellow co-workers filled my head with useless yet interesting facts. Studies show that people who lack a sense of smell have a hard time holding onto relationships, showing affection and falling in love. Apparently the smells of everyday life, things, and people is directly linked to how much affection you're able to show. Well, I'm sick as hell. My nose is stuffed up and plugged and I can't taste or smellanything. In fact, I'm pretty sure I ate a week old sandwich that I randomly found in my bedroom the other day without flinching, so excuse me if I love you less this week and forget to give out hugs and cheek kisses for the next few days.
Around this time two years ago I was sitting in my car in a Second Cup parking lot. I had just hung up my phone and was bawling my eyes out. I applied for a job at a television studio in Calgary and I had just gotten a call from them saying they wanted to meet up for an interview. My life flashed before my eyes thinking about the possibility of actually getting this job. As much as I wanted it, it would mean a new city, a new career, new life, new friends, new,new, new, scared, scared, scared. I really did want this job. I tried so hard to get it. I put so much effort into trying to convince them that I was perfect for the position. I used the whitest, most crisp paper to print my resume on. I bought shiny gold dvd's to burn my demo onto. I wrote the address in cursive on the envelope with my brand new fine tipped marker and said a quick prayer before I sent it off. My hard work paid off. Whether it was the smell of the freshly unwrapped paper, the curves and lines in my cursive writing, or whether they just believed I would be perfect for the position by just being me, I had them convinced. Yet once I had them convinced, I panicked. There was no doubt in my mind that I would get the job as soon as I sent my resume off. I truly believe that I am great at what I do. I guess I just didn't realize what I'd be leaving behind if I took the job. I never even took them up on the interview. I wonder where I'd be right now if I had.
If I could go back it time I would smack my 19 year old self across the head and tell her to stop being such a pussy. I'd wipe away my tears, grab a vanilla bean latte, and call them back and tell them I'd have my shit packed to move there by the end of the week and I could start the following Monday.
Today, I'm at the exact point in my life that I was this time last year. Single, relatively unemployed, about to move back home and trying to figure out where the fuck I'm supposed to go from here.
In some strange, cruel sorta way it's like I'm being given a second chance. A chance to start over and do things differently this time. Do things right. One more try. You better believe that I'm not going to mess around this time. The next time I get a call for a job offer I will be on the next flight out of here. I will dry eyed. I will have my vanilla bean latte in hand and the past 22 years of my life being dragged in my Betsey Johnson luggage behind me.
Ashley, Brittney and myself were in a music video last week. It was so much fun. Well, aside from me still trying to fight this gross, phlegmy, snotty, exhausting cold I have and popping cough drops every 15 minutes. Attractive, right? The video should be up by next week.. I can't wait to see it! Let's hope they were filming from all our good sides. ;)
(figured out how to make pictures bigger if you click on them! well most of them you can, haven't completely figured it out I guess!)
Music has always been such a huge part of my life. As Brittney's best friend, I felt it was my duty to take her to her first screamo/hardcore concert on Monday. Judging by the look on her face as soon as we walked into the building, she really had no idea what she was getting herself into. My friend recently started drumming for the band 'Everytime I Die". I haven't seen him in a while so even though I was dying a tiny bit myself from being sick, there was no way I wasn't going to go see him play while he was in town. As soon as we walked into the venue all Brittney said was "Dude, we are so out of place." I'm used to it though. People always find it weird when I say I grew up listening to this kinda of music. I skipped the whole Britney Spears, Backstreet Boys, Nsync, Otown, Mytown, West town, North town, whatever town phase and didn't start appreciating that sorta sugary sweet kinda music until years later after the hype was over.
I went to my first punk concert when I was about 14. Almost every weekend for the next three years were spent at local punk shows listening to live music while trying not to get kicked in the face while people jumped around in the mosh pits and screamed along to the undecipherable song lyrics. I was the preppiest girl at every punk show. Even at my 'punkiest' stage with my fauxhawkedblonde hair, black tank tops, cargo pants and black eyeliner I still looked out of place. I get as many stares at a punk concert as a guy does when he accidentally walks into the ladies room. But it didn't matter to me then, and it doesn't matter to me now. Regardless of how different I appear to be from my 16 year old self, there's no doubt I'm the same punk concert going girl. As much as I've grown, some things never change. I still love my hardcore music. I still would rather spend any night at a live show then doing anything else. I still have the biggest grin on my face as soon as the lights dim and the band walks out on stage. I still scream along to Story Of The Year c.d's in my car when no ones with me. I still do a double take when any boy covered in tattoos passes by me. And I still believe in wearing shoes that look like they were stolen from a stripper to every concert I go to.
We went for tea and milkshakes at Denny's after the concert because.. well isn't that what everyone does after a punk show?
Every new beginning comes from some other beginnings end
Next week is my new beginning. I have a few events to attend, a fashion show to be in, things to film, meetings to try and not fall asleep during, and hopefully a few phone calls with job offers. I'm dry eyed and I'm ready for it. Bring it on.
The other day I took my lunch break once everybody had left the office. It involved a caramel macciato, subway and about 10 minutes of working out. I’m on a new workout routine and diet that basically prohibits me from eating a 2 litre of ice cream to myself while watching 90210. I finished up at work, ran a few errands, and went to meet up with a friend a few hours later. As soon as I sat down she looked at me and was like 'what the heck happened to the back of your sweater?!' I took off my sweater to find the entire back of it completely covered in dust and dirt. If I looked close enough I’m sure I would of found other random things stuck to it. I told her it must of been from leaving it on the floor at work. I believe you should always be honest, but sometimes it's okay to leave out some information from the entire story – never again will I wear a cotton white sweater and do 200 situps on my filthy office floor during my lunch break.
I walked up to the front of my work the other day and found a huge sign staring me down that said “Caution falling ice" placed in front of the door. I looked up and saw huge chunks of ice that were the size of a entire leg hanging above the front of the door. I knew I should probably think this one over. Do these signs serve the same purpose as a waiver? Like, since you’re warning me that a giant icicle could puncture my skull in the next 10 seconds, ultimately being the death of me, does that mean I can't sue? And if that's so, can my job fire me if I decide today is not the day that I choose to die a slow, cold and painful death and just skip work altogether? Go back home and back to bed? Do you think they have a backup employee scheduled, just in case I'm not brave enough to run under the door? My only other option would be try and crawl through a window. Somehow I just don't think the police are going to buy my reasoning with that one though. Anyways, I stood there for about 90 seconds debating this. It was freezing, so I decided to leave it up to fate and take the chance. Plus it was 7:58, and dead or not, there was no way I was going to be late for work.
My best friend and I are trying out a new diet/workout routine together. I eat the worst food. I really do. I eat anything and everything that I can digest. Salt. Sugar! CAAARBS! and fat. Mmmm. If something has a high dose of all four in it then I’m a happy girl!! The diet that we’re doing doesn’t mean that we can’t eat any of that it just means we have to eat it in moderation. She has a pretty intense workout routine set up for us. Running up the 16 stairs to my office is my idea of a daily workout. I really don't think I understand what I've gotten myself in to. But I mean so far it’s going pretty good – I haven’t threatened to knock over a small child when they won’t share their ice cream cone with me, offered any of my prized possessions for salsa and chips and I haven’t looked at random pieces of cardboard, toy trucks, or plastic bottles and wonder what they’d taste like if I dipped them in ranch dressing and hot sauce. Then again, I’m only on day 3. I have a feeling that this is going to be a long 6 weeks. Bring on the cardboard.
Last week I went and got lip injections. The injection is called juvederm. For those who don't know what Juvederm is.. well it's a smooth consistency gel made out of hyaluronic acid, it's a naturally occurring substance in your skin that helps to add volume and hydration. If I told you I didn't google it to find that description would you be impressed? Some girls want a puppy or a new purse.. I wanted lip injections, so that's what I got. My ex boyfriend was super against it. He said he saw too many girls with botchy, unattractive injections. I think we finally came to the understanding that he wouldn't get his massive neck tattoo that he loved the idea of, and I hated, and I wouldn't go plump up my pout. Seeing as I'm single now and do what I want, I decided to do what made sense to me - spend the money I saved for his christmas present on my lips and tickets to a concert this weekend. Super happy with both of my purchases!
LIPS!
Yesterday I went in for a touch up. The doctor who did my lips told me an interesting story before he stuck tiny needles filled with gel into my lips. He said a guy came in last week to get a chemical peel done on his face and the doctor noticed a big chunk taken out of the side of his neck, all scraped up and scarred. He asked the guy what happened out of curiosity. Apparently this guy went on a $20,000 honeymoon to China. On the last day he decided he wanted to go shopping for some purses. He went into a purse store and while deciding between a couple of them, he opened up one of the purses to look inside and a rat the size of a dog jumped out at him and bit him. Wtf. He swore it was true. How traumatizing would that be?
Let me tell you, after that story I definitely feel confident about my choice of lips over a new purse. Just sayin'.
It's the weekend. Tomorrow I'm going to party like a rockstar.. hopfully with some rockstars. Or maybe I'll sleep in till dinner time and call it a night.
Apparently I can't eat hot foods or makeout for 48 hours. It's cool, I'll settle for luke warm mashed potatoes and hand holding.. for now.
