Wednesday, May 18, 2011
I want to start by concentrating on writing my book. This has always been a vision I have had, and one of the big reasons I spent fifty grand on a laptop. Sadly, I have spent most of my time watching movies on the laptop, and hardly any writing. MS Word is the least opened software on my computer. This has also suddenly become a priority after I found out that my trainee has written a book, which is in the process of being published. (I could make excuses that I have worked for 7 years and have had no time to breath, while she is fresh out of summer vacations, but I’m not going to go there.)
I want to travel to an exotic country, with or without a companion. Maybe Greece. I’ve always wanted to go to Greece. My fear of travelling alone, dying in a gutter with no passport and identity and then being an unclaimed Jane Doe in some foreign land, should soon be overcome, because I am determined.
I want to work somewhere other than this city. I want to experience what an advertising agency is outside of this ass-licking place. It’s probably more ass-licking: different asses, same frenzied licking.
I want to learn how to perfect the art of everyday makeup. I don’t wear makeup and most days I look like a dead person. Pale lips, dark circles around my eyes and an overall pallid tone. I want to look stunning (like I did for an hour at a shoot when a makeup artist took pity on me and made me beautiful in his spare time)
I want to be proposed to. Okay, so this I cannot control or plan. But I’d really like to know that someone out there wants to spend his life with me. No one has ever popped the question. I may or may not say yes, but it’s the thought that counts, doesn’t it?
I want to have a 'go-to' group of friends. The people who are there when I am down, or have a crisis or anything else. I want to have a really good friend who is not high-maintainance and who wants to share/solve/cry about life's big issues.
I want to do up a house. Pick the curtains, shop for groceries; be worried about what to cook for dinner, stress about the prices of potatoes. This may sound strange, but I have never lived alone. And I don’t want to never ever live alone. I want to experience what that is like.
I think that’s enough for now. Don’t want to over do the list and be disappointed when I’m not done, sounds reasonable, right? It’s true, I’m older and wiser…
Wednesday, March 23, 2011
Tuesday, March 15, 2011
I’m fed up. And I want to quit.
But I don’t want to join another advertising agency. I want to really do something I love. I want to maybe start a little restaurant or own a fun store with fun things in it. Maybe paint and sell my paintings and have an art show.
Here in lies the rub.
For all these dreams you need to have mounds of the green.
For which you have to work.
Damn you vicious circle.
Wednesday, March 09, 2011
I asked four random men one very random question:
If you were given 2 dresses: One dress is a size 4 and the other is a size 12. And you were told choose one dress and thou shall get a woman to fill it instantly…
Which dress would you choose?
All four men picked the size 4.
Not surprising but I thought I had male friends who were less shallow.
Friday, February 25, 2011
Then my aunt asked me what my ex ex boyfriends last name was, and I told her.
She showed me a picture of in the newspaper.
It was a marriage announcement.
I know everyone my age is getting married, so it’s not that I am shocked.
I’m just sad, even though it has been almost 8 years.
And it’s normal.
I'm sure it is...
Friday, February 18, 2011
But when you hear something over and over again, about a few people you know, and it’s all within the advertising fraternity…one tends to have no choice but believe.
I’m hearing more and more stories of people in advertising who are cheating on their wives/husbands. Most of the time I dismiss it, but then it comes back stronger and with more details.
I don’t know if it is this industry or is it the people? Does this happen in every line of work, and so blatantly and rampantly? I could blame it on the industry, with its long office hours and days spent away from home on shoots and researches and meetings. But come on, just because you have work away or a late night doesn’t make you a cheater.
In the past week I have heard of a couple, both in advertising, who are now getting a divorce because he has realized that he is not compatible with her. I have also heard of a married man sleeping with anyone who is willing in his office. While his wife, also in advertising is oblivious to it. It’s disgusting.
I may be sounding like a pious soul who has not a wrong-doing to my name. But I guess I am one of those people who believe in the sanctity of marriage.
So sue me.
Thursday, February 17, 2011
He looked at me and said, “Oh sorry, I was staring at her ass”
“You find her hot?” I said, mildly surprised. She is a rather attractive woman.
“Smokin’” was his eloquent reply.
He continued, “All the guys think so…and they think the same of (cannot-be-revealed name here) too!”
“What? Wow… Do they think I’m hot?” I asked coyly.
He hesitates, “Er… yea, of course you are.” Comes his fake but over enthusiastic reply. I stare at him, hoping to penetrate his brain with my Truth Eyes.
“You have a GREAT personality! And amazing eyes… and a sense of humour…”
Hmmm, he lost me at Great Personality.
I plummet into the depths of depression…
Sunday, February 13, 2011
I past a Mad Over Donut shop the other day, and I had a mini craving. I walked in and I looked at all the delicious chocolate filled donuts and I had a vision of myself as an obese woman stuffing my face with donuts. It was not pretty. And I walked out immediately.
I am beginning to despise my shape. And that’s not all, I have begun to obsess about other women’s bodies in comparison to my less-than-perfect one (and that’s a first)
Everyone around me seems to be whizzing past me to the ‘Slim Side’, leaving their chubby-ness behind. And the aforementioned chubby-ness is losing grip of them, slapping on to me and clinging desperately on for dear life. Okay, not literally, but I was having one of those Ally McBeal moments.
Speaking of chubby friends moving to the ‘Slim Side’: My cousin, who has always been a large girl has suddenly rapidly lost tons of weight. So much so she is being complimented all the time by people around us. When I asked her how she was doing it, she merely said she washes her clothes everyday and that’s how the weight is staying off. That’s bollocks. And I am jealous.
My colleague has lost an amazing amount of weight too. She is being complimented every single day too. She only eats sprouts though, or rather, that’s all I have seen her eat. I say you can’t live on sprouts for the rest of your life right? Right? But I am jealous.
Another friend is losing weight every minute, or so it seems. She is doing yoga and walking. So what is she doing that I am not? I walk too. And run sometimes. But she is looking so good and I am still a ball. Yup, jealous.
And then there are those friends who are just lucky and shaped wonderfully by default. My friend has a gorgeous body. Of course she is younger than me, and has age on her side (ahem, ahem) But, having said that, she’s one of those bodies who don’t seem to put on weight. Ever.
And then I think, “You’re a horrible person, she is your friend, I should be ashamed of myself”
It’s not like I am obsessed with being thin. Nor do I think I am extremely fat. I just do not like my shape the way I used to.
In fact, another friend, an older woman, (who I am also extremely jealous off, by the way) has three children and what I consider to be an amazing body. She is well-endowed on top and not so petite on her bottom, and man, she is hot. I wouldn’t mind having a body like that too.
I don’t want to be a size 0: I just want to have a shape I like for God’s sake.
Thursday, February 03, 2011
Monday, January 24, 2011
I was invited to a party, I was one of the few non-family members that were invited. I thought I was being a good friend when I tried to help her serve the appetizers etc.
I was wrong.
The next day, when I called to tell her how fabulous everything was, the food, the drinks… the whole party, she said something very strange.
She said, I’m saying this because I love you, but I will never invite you to a party again. You annoyed me. You kept coming into my kitchen and you were always in my way. I hated it, and I couldn’t handle it at all.
I was so hurt. Then I became angry. Then just plain sad…
I haven’t called her. And neither has she called me…
I’m not sure who is wrong anymore.
It lead me to remember a quote…
“A question that sometimes drives me hazy: Am I or are the others crazy?”
~ Albert Einstien
Wednesday, January 19, 2011
I remembered how I used to sit in the back of my class, writing chits, making fun of my Anthropology professor, as she struggled to speak about some random tidbit of irrelevant information. And now, here I stand before a class of fifty students, all looking at me up and down, all wondering if I am good enough to even teach them.
But I tried to be cool. I tried to talk in a casual tone.
I remembered again how my communication class used to make fun of this fuddy-duddy advertising woman who would take our class. She had no real knowledge of the profession and her entire personality annoyed me. And then again, there I was whining on about the importance of knowing what you are selling to a bunch of blank-faced children.
I tried to make it as interesting as possible; I tried to sound less like a “teacher”.
I remembered how my frustrated Math professor would yell and scream for me to ‘get up and get out’ of his class, only because I was a backbencher who made a lot of people laugh. And then there I was, watching a young boy in a green scarf surf on his laptop, while all his friends giggled around him.
It took all I had to ignore him. But after about an twenty minutes of his nonsense I pointed at him and said, “You, guy in the green scarf, if you are not interested in this class, please leave because I am not interested in having you here either…”
And with that one sentence, everything I was trying not to be, I became. I became ‘Ma’am’. I became the woman they asked ‘can I go to toilet?’
I became a fuddy-duddy, advertising professional. I became old.
But for the first time, I was very, very okay with it.