“Well I wish I had your legs, so don’t worry!” I replied. Then we spoke about how if we could somehow put our two body types together, I’m sure at some point, we’d find something else to hate about them. Without doubt, this got me thinking about women and our obsession with finding the perfect body. Whether it’s in the body parts of our friends, the models in magazines or our favourite celebrities. Why aren’t we just content with what we’re dealt at birth?

I have a very Italian pear shaped body. And my roommate’s right, I’m very grateful for my small chest and torso as I can squeeze myself into things you wouldn’t believe for the amount of weight the scale tells me I am, but somehow, when looking in a mirror, I find my eyes trailing down to my thighs and knees. There’s just too much there I often tell myself. So I run, kind of; do spinning; now, I’ve started kickboxing; participated in Boot Camp; Pilates; yoga; swimming – etcetera, etcetera. The problem? The torso keeps getting smaller and those thighs never seem to fade. I know the rules of weight loss and muscle management. I know butt and boobs are first to go but the frustrating thing is how long it takes to get it off and all I have to do is go on vacation for a week and pretty much three months of hard work goes down the drain.

So why can’t we just be happy with what we’ve got? How come right after my roommate complimented my upper body, I immediately shifted conversation over to the things I hate about it? This got me to thinking about how we interpret compliments and our self body image and how we think others perceive us. At times, I can half-heartedly complain about my severe lack of breasts, but if there is a time that I’m wearing a bit of a cleavage-bearing top, I feel extremely self-conscious. I’m not used to people looking at my chest and not my eyes – it’s like nothing will ever make us happy. Although I don’t think I’d ever want to be the type of person who actually enjoyed someone staring at my chest instead of my eyes, but that’s another story.

All of this made me realize that although I love my body about a hundred times more than I ever did while hitting puberty, and while celebrity junk food news and idealistic, ridiculous fawning over plastic surgery Barbie faces (ramble!) has become the norm for today’s teenagers to look up to, there’s still something off with what I see when I look at myself in the mirror – and I don’t think I’m alone in that department.

How do we change this self imposed body image we have on ourselves? How can we just love what your momma gave you? How do you do it?

Over fifteen people came – my highest turn out yet! And I felt it was a great success, mostly, as I realized that we all have so many people in our lives that love us and want to spend time with us – whether we’re single, dating or married. It’s these people that come out from all facets of our lives that we’re able to see just what kind of relationships we are capable of maintaining. I phrase it in that way because it’s hard work to maintain friendships and as the group you’re friends with increases, the harder it is to maintain all aspects of what a friendship entails. The description of what a friendship entails can be grossly misleading as well; depending on whom you’re talking to.

A friend of mine decided to cease being friends with me a couple of weeks ago and I was left hurt, blind sided and (true to form) asking questions to no one in particular about what could have possibly happened. This person was a very dear friend of mine throughout our university years but as we grew older and drifted apart (ranging from what cities we lived in to our careers) our emails remained and the odd phone call was placed. Communication was there between us but we’d definitely lost the closeness we had in terms of breaking news and calling the other on speed dial.
Suffice to say, our friendship hadn’t maintained it’s strength these past few years but I suppose betrayal and loyalty had its hand in the demise of the friendship at the end of the day. I was accused of being dishonest but with no situation – I guess I’m just supposed to know what I did. But I don’t.

For a person who was not in my life on a daily basis, I’m finding it difficult to just let go. I’m constantly wondering what happened and re-thinking everything I’ve done and said over the last month of two. I’m a person who hates being hated. I’m a person who doesn’t like not being liked. Maybe that’s an issue to deal with at another time, but for right now – it feels wrong. Friendships don’t last all the time, I know this, and people grow apart, move on and up or just don’t blend anymore. But I’ve never had a friendship just blow up in my face so quickly with no explanation. We’re done. You’re done. You’re a horrible person. It leaves someone to question – am I?

Could I have done more in the friendship to make sure it didn’t end this way? Probably, I could have done (or not done) whatever it is that garnered me this position of “ex-friend” in the first place – but how are you to know if the other party won’t talk to you?

Many in my life say that dwelling on this situation or even the person shouldn’t matter and I should just move on and rid myself of the negativity. I’m all for it – but tell my mind that. I work in an office alone, being creative and it’s a bit difficult to pull creativity out of the woodwork when you have something blocking it from exposure.

With time, things will improve, I know – they already have, but I can’t help but wonder – if I could go back and do things differently, would I? Probably not. Instead, I would probably go back to the Saturday evening of the long weekend when all the friends that could make it to the cottage, had, and were all eating hamburgers, hot dogs and sausages I had supplied for the party. I stood on the grass watching them like a creep all laughing on the deck and I couldn’t help but smile.

I have amazing friends. I have amazing people in my life that would do anything for me and I’d do the same. I have friends that I haven’t seen in years, yet still make time for me if we need it. I have friends that push me to be the best I can be when I don’t think I have it in me. I have friends that understand my incessant ridiculous love of Sushi and don’t judge. I have friends that will just sit and watch television with me, because I love Cougar Town, even though they don’t. I have friends that love me and fight with me and laugh with me and smile with me. And we fight; I’ve fought with all my friends. The difference is, the friendship is worth way more than the fight and that’s why it’s a hell of a lot easier to maintain.

Unfortunately, my nerves kicked in and I felt largely unprepared for what felt like a big test. Simple words I’ve known my whole life escaped me and I was left sitting there, my mind blank, nervous. However, unlike other Italian outings my heritage finds myself in – where I am called out by old Italian men at my lack of knowledge on the language, despite my father being so heavily involved in the promotion of Italy in general – I was encouraged, assisted and complimented on the fact that I was even there. It definitely created a sense of relief at in my attendance. The feelings didn’t help my lack of knowledge on the language, though. You see, when you’re meeting people for the first time and tell them stories about things that have happened in your life – you use a lot of past tense. Oh the past tense, a lovely new set of verbs, conjugation (or as I like to call them – “word endings”) and irregular verbs that have to be memorized in addition to everything else. Past tense wasn’t a unit I excelled in in my Italian classes. Mostly because I didn’t take Italian classes long enough throughout university to even get to them. Every two words, it felt like, I had to stop and ask what a word meant in Italian and how to conjugate it and then figure out if it was a dialect or proper Italian. Prompting me to hardly remember what the story I was telling was about in the first place.

At around ten, my friend and I left and ended up taking in Hemingways in Yorkville for a drink and ended up sharing life stories – which can seem pretty amazing and crazy when you’re summing them up in five minute intervals. We patrolled the surroundings to judge whether there were cute boys or not (yes and no) and dared each other to create random conversations with the ones who proved to be the most endearing at first glance.

We failed. Mostly, though, because of laziness. Getting into our old age, we were both afraid of sparking conversations with cute boys because my Heineken was making me yawn and her boyfriend kept texting to ask what time she was coming over. It proved to be a different night than most of the ones I’ve had lately – and for that I was grateful.

Grateful to be included in such an evening that didn’t feel adolescent, drama filled or weird. It was random, but randomly planned.

And it was nice.

For instance, the night of Thursday, May 27th has sequestered itself among three events I want to attend:

1) Strut for a Cure

A night promised to make everybody speak out against Cancer while listening to Dragonette and meeting others in the industry. Plus, the swag bag you get once you leave isn’t bad either. Mostly, it’s just the type of thing I’m loving about living in Toronto. Being able to go to these fundraisers and parties and network my butt off. Problem: I may be dumb, but I scoured that website and could not for the life of me find out when the event starts that Thursday. Normally, it wouldn’t be a problem but for someone attempting to plan “a night of a million stops” it is.

2) Carassauga: Mississauga’s Festival of Culture

Of course it has to be the first night my father’s extracurricular activity, FCAM, actually does something that will interact with the community by promoting the integration of the Molise culture in Canada and I have this prior commitment and urge to attend Strut for a Cure instead. Which leaves me feeling guilty. I did, however, design this snazzy advertisement to be included in Carassauga’s 25th Anniversary special edition commemorative magazine they’ll be handing out at the show. The AD itself was inspired by the work my friend and sometimes partner, Emily Bachor of Whylime Design does at Where Calgary magazine.

She’s made me a big fan of the opacity button:

You may think this is no big deal, not being able to attend the opening ceremonies of the Carassauga weekend, as it’s just that – a weekend event. However, this brings me to the dear old commitment number three.

3) Bridal Shower in Windsor, Ontario

My dear, dear friend is getting married. Yay (it’s a sincere yay). But instead of taking up one of my weekends that consist of me waking up at noon and reading PostSecret all day, I will be sitting at a table with other twentysomething friends becoming misty eyed at the thought of my friend getting her happy beginning and me wondering if I’ll have a date by the time her wedding comes around in August – or if I’ll even want one. Problem: It’s basically an entire weekend of visiting and busyness that I’ll have absolutely no time for …

4) Sex and the City 2 Premiere

Now, I know this may sound crazy, with all the fantastic prior engagements I’ve just listed to end off with my disappointment that I will not be able to watch the continuation of the best show ever made followed by the best movie sequel to a TV series ever made but I am. I am disappointed. Mostly, however, because of spoilers. I won’t be able to take it. In addition to reading PostSecret every Sunday, I have this odd, unnatural habit of checking out TheMovieSpoiler.com to see what happens at the end of the latest blockbusters just released. It sort of reminds me of Billy Crystal’s monologue in When Harry Met Sally about being so dark that he reads the end of novels before he starts in case he dies so he’ll always know how it ends.

Problem: even if I successfully remove myself from being tempted to log on, I know it’ll be all around me. When will the next opportunity come that I can see the movie before I read about what happens in the tabloids? In 2008, when the first movie came out, I had to block my sister from my MSN list because she had gotten home from watching the big premiere (she lives in the United Kingdom and had the pleasure of seeing it a full eight hours before I did) and wanted to gush about how amazing it was. She’s like that.

All in all, I think I may just be whining about unnecessary things. But I can’t help it – I want to do it ALL!!!!

Which, in case you don’t know me personally, is exactly what I’ll end up doing.

I used to be a night writer. Didn’t matter what the topic, as soon as sunset hit I could make these fingers type like nobody’s business about nothing in particular (although topics usually varied from school, the opposite sex, friendships and work among others) and everything in between.

Now, I feel as though I’m out of practice, out of habit and completely drained emotionally out of fear that I’m not pleasing enough people, not enough people care to even be pleased or that nothing’s ever good enough for me to share anymore. It’s a realization that I come to every time I sit down, ready to write. I think it comes from the fact that I sometimes creep over to my old writings and re-read the words that poured out of me, the feelings that overwhelmed me and judge my past self.

I find now, that the words free-flow out of me in the mornings, when the sun is shining and the world seems to be my oyster – a brand new beginning every day. Not that I’ve been so eager to get up early and type away in the mornings, but still. My life has changed me into somewhat of a morning person; if I can just find that motivation every day to get up early I’d be set. It was there for a while and somehow it faded (I’m sure the lure of website designing 24/7 had something to do with it) but it’s creeped back up with the presence of a new office location and a resounding sense of relaxation following my trip to Mexico last week.

So I’m sure the writing will eventually become more habitual, frequent and (let’s hope) more inspiring in the near future.

Next stop, gym.

I feel like the days are flying by and somehow at the end of them, I am getting things accomplished and yet I don’t seem to find any satisfaction in any of it – and then, of course, I start to wonder why. My Type A personality tells me I’m not doing enough, every moment spent in “down time” is precious time wasted that I could have been producing something, creating something else and thinking about doing even more. The realist in me tries to take a step back, relax and realize that while going out for Thai dinner with a friend, it’s completely okay that I’ve left my BlackBerry in the car. Completely okay.

What am I addicted to, I wonder. What is so important about receiving an email as soon as it arrives in my inbox at 8 pm? It’s not like I can really do much at that time until I get to a computer. I mean, I can – but it’ll usually involve an apologetic process to whomever I’m with about how it’s work and I can’t let it go. When the truth is, I can let it go, I just choose not to because I think I feel a certain sense of importance at the fact that I’m needed in a work capacity after regular business hours. How insane. Who even cares? If they care, the person/people I’m with, it’ll be that I’m being rude, not important! I know this, yet I check the message anyway.

I need a balance. And I wonder why this balance doesn’t come naturally to me. My birthday is October 1st – smack dab in the middle of the Libra, the astrological sign of balance. So why can’t I concentrate on doing one thing at a time? Loving one thing at a time? Experiencing one thing at a time? Can I control my life enough to create that? Is that something one can do – I can do?

I’m so addicted to being in the know. I need to be in the know. With news – local, national and world – with whatever social media site I’m viewing, technology, bestsellers, movies, music, sports and people. I’m left to wonder, am I tapping into my old high school self? The one who felt a constant need to fit in and therefore “love” everything so I always had something to talk about with a new face. I’m excited for knowledge, learning and education – but every day, with every piece of knowledge – I wonder where the hell it all goes!

Or … is it a reason for a lack of total productivity and procrastination?

I think three to five browsers were my limit; depending on what research project I was working on at the time.

Now, as I’ve just gotten back from lunch to a lovely article about multitasking and the horrors of doing your job poorly – I look up and began to count the amount of “tabs” I currently have open in my Google Chrome browser and it stands at nine. Nine (now ten after my Tweet Deck informed me that Emily Brydon of Canada will be skiing next in the Ladies Downhill competition and I proceeded to search for a live stream of the Vancouver 2010 Olympics …..).

It’s now twenty minutes later – I still haven’t been able to find anything that will play live on my computer; I haven’t continued writing anything on here and I’ve been trying to focus all afternoon. There’s something about today – this week, that’s made me uneasy. I don’t know how to explain it, but it has.

Maybe all this multitasking is catching up with me, and – like the article suggests, I’m doing more juggling than multitasking.

(article written February 17th – but too many things got in the way and it wasn’t posted – go figure.)

Two words, many, different enormous meanings. I’ve always been a fan the latest social media trend and always interested in the amazing ways it’s utilized within our society. I sporadically become fascinated with learning about them and figuring out how it changes the way people communicate with each other. It’s like I’m writing an essay every time I do this, but I can’t help it.

I used to be told this made me “creepy”. What was the point? What does it matter – you’re not living your life. Okay, so it never really got to intervention status, but my knowledge of computers, technology and love for social networking has definitely put me in hot water with friends, family and boyfriends in the past.

Recently, I’ve been in touch with so many people from my past, in my line of work, or just – random, interesting people. I find it invigorating. This connection I’m able to sustain with them when I don’t have time to breathe throughout the day. I’m busy. I’m working. I’m building websites. I’m researching businesses. I’m calling businesses. I’m calling people. I’m making PowerPoints. I’m grabbing my fifth coffee of the day – whatever. All the while communicating with all these people, the city I live in, the city I used to live in, potential clients, new clients, old friends, new friends, you get the idea.

I feel as though I’ve been awakened recently, however. As I discovered a world in which other people don’t find it creepy. In fact, if you were to use the term to describe their actions – they’d be ten hundred times creepier than I could ever hope to achieve! It’s great!

Where have I been, honestly, with fighting twitter for so long? Why did I bother? I know the answer to this; it was because I was told it was wrong. Weird. Impersonal. Secretly, I knew the answer – it’s not. It’s evolution of communication. I learned all about it. Personally, I’m kind of pissed off that I’m not in school while all of these changes are going on because I feel as though I’d rock it on my essays on communication in the new media world. I would rock them. Then again, I get to experience it now – and not feel guilty that I’m wasting my time on “useless” sites instead of studying for my upcoming exam.

I’ve been trained to feel guilty about these sites – that’s really it. It begins with the notion that social media is a waste of time, this notion that stems from people who are afraid of change. Afraid of these 24 year old kids bored on a Friday night getting these ridiculous ideas that work out and five years later have books written about them calling them “The Accidental Billionaires”.

Maybe social media is a waste of time for some people, but not for me. It’s bringing me back from a bit of a down spell and opening my eyes to all the different opportunities there are out there. All the people there are to meet. All the things there are to learn.

And who doesn’t love a twitter mention every now and again? It makes my heart flutter, just a tiny bit. So maybe that’s a bit creepy. I’m okay with that.

Today, when my alarm went off, I was so comfortable and warm, and relaxed that I decided to stay in bed for that extra hour and a half, thinking it’d be a perfect morning for a little extra shut up – screw spinning, I thought.

Flash-forward to 7:30, my new alarm time – I felt just as crappy, if not crappier. And this time, I didn’t become magically awake while washing my face and teeth. The rest of the morning goes on and I’m unable to keep my eyes open at work, I can’t concentrate and everything seems so depressive.

Thought for the day: apparently waking up ungodly hours of the morning to put your body through hell works out in the long run, so no more skipping.