First of all, I want to welcome you to my new blog "Edmonton Social" (www.edmontonsocial.blogspot.com) . New life, new blog. New underwear. My Hello Kitty underoos are gone. That's how it goes. My life has changed drastically in the past two months and I've made some major soul-searching achievements that I'm really proud of. I blew myself away, being able to smash that negative stigma of being fired to dust. Everyone and anyone from a British or German or northern European background with all those "good" Protestant work ethics drilled into their head at birth (I vaguely remember my father telling me to get a job at the age of 2...) are crushed under the pressure of not producing in a society. Not me. I couldn't go down that path or I would not have survived. I milked unemployment for everything it had. I had a REALLY great time, and met so many great people along the way. However, and sadly so, I will no longer be posting on "I'm So Fired" anymore. Unless, of course!, I get fired again. Which is very possible (I'll keep you updated on that).
I have my reasons for shutting down the "I'm So Fired" operation. I want to move ahead in my writing. I want to move ahead in my life and I guess identifying with being fired is now redundant (and unhealthy) for me. For the time being, I am actually hired. I'm bored of writing about being fired too, quite honestly. It has been alot of fun until now and a huge learning experience. I've gone through so many changes in my life that were much easier to share in a blog than over the phone with friends and family or through therapy sessions at the local psych ward. Everybody gets fired in their life, or "let go" or whatever management calls it nowadays. Don't invest your self-confidence in it; A job is only a job. My blog helped me not only digest the idea of being fired for "no" reason (I've pinpointed it to the Christmas party, live and learn I suppose) but being the fiercely creative and lively person I am, there is nothing I can do about it. Besides, if DW can't take a little comment like "His head is like a pin... a pinhead", or the pilot with the penis-shaped head can't relate to a bit of size comparison, then they are not the people for me.
So now you're like, what is this madness? Edmonton Social? Ha, she drilled her bedroom door shut once, she's not exactly the social type. I am. I really am. I love people. I meet new people everyday. Edmonton is this fusion of crazy, rich, homeless, native, immigrant (by immigrant, I do NOT mean those from Newfoundland, although I will talk about my Newfie friends as well), educated, ignorant, young, old...I meet people everyday, alot of people. I want you all out there to meet these people, as well. Edmonton is an amazing town, it is my home by choice, and there is no place in this world like Edmonton. I want you on this journey with me, from Victor and his brother hanging outside the Farmer's Market collecting a few bucks for food, to those (whom I won't use names for, I've been treated too well by many of these types to make this an expose) in the fast-paced, more corporate world that I've sworn off.
They're all amazing people, and have made my journey to-date possible. Edmonton does not have any "untouchables", we're all free game, and I will bring them all to meet you on www.edmontonsocial.blogspot.com. Enjoy.
Sunday, June 13, 2010
Saturday, June 12, 2010
Whyte Wash
I just love Whyte Ave. There are two seasons in Edmonton - winter and summer. If you manage the nine months of winter without being carted away to a mental institute, then the three months of summer (celebrated on Whyte, of course) with the neverending daylight is paradise. The only darkness in the summer months here are the insides of your eyelids after a toxic draft at the Strath-Coma. Which is what I seen until about noon today. Good times. I'm assuming. I'm deathly afraid of calling the person who uses $100 bottles of truffle oil on his veggies to find out how ill-behaved I actually was, though. I do have a distinct feeling I wasn't, either; t felt like all eyes were on me going for coffee today on Whyte. Mind you, I really should have put my pants on before going out the door. But hey, it's Edmonton, anything goes.
Down to the daily countdown to the end of my unemployment...or beginning of phase two of my unemployment. Little Miss OCD here also gets to do her CPR/First Aid training next weekend, should be quite entertaining for everyone involved, "Is he breathing yet? You sure he's breathing? No man, I really don't think he's breathing yet...". Soon little autistic kids everywhere are going to think brushing their teeth three times in a row is perfectly normal. It amazes me how I've made it through life so far.
What do you wear to a baseball game?
Down to the daily countdown to the end of my unemployment...or beginning of phase two of my unemployment. Little Miss OCD here also gets to do her CPR/First Aid training next weekend, should be quite entertaining for everyone involved, "Is he breathing yet? You sure he's breathing? No man, I really don't think he's breathing yet...". Soon little autistic kids everywhere are going to think brushing their teeth three times in a row is perfectly normal. It amazes me how I've made it through life so far.
What do you wear to a baseball game?
Thursday, June 10, 2010
The Balancing Act
It appears that I, me, now has a job. There are a few things that could change that in the next few weeks so please keep your expectations low for me. Mom, you've already got your expectations set completely below where the scale of expectations even begins, so that's good, and thanks for that.
I will be working with developmental disabilities. There is no gray area for autistic kids. If they hate me, I'm done, job gone, so this is the big test. I'm going to do alot of research on autism the next couple of weeks so if anyone has any insight out there, pass it along via email, jo_annehampton@yahoo.com.
Why is this what I want? For now, and this can change at any moment (because I'm me) but there are three types of people out there. The first type are the you and me's of the world playing the game but separated from type two by a few million/billion dollars. Then there is the third type, the people who neither can play the game or make the game. It is a different world for them and considering I spend half my life in my own little world myself, it's not a far stretch for me to understand and help them brush their teeth in the mornings.
Besides, I can never again in my life ever work for the type two DKs and DWs of the world. I'll stroke out. I like putting my Hello Kitty underwear and cargo pants on in the morning and trying to explain to a client that maybe banging their head on the pavement won't get them exactly what they want but lets talk it out, maybe it will, who knows. You couldn't talk it out with DK. He'd just keep banging YOUR head on the pavement until he got what he wanted. DKs not a big bacon fan, by the way.
All in all, it appears that I am performing the balancing act quite well. Met some great people since I've been home, too. It's been a great week in Edmonton and I'm just all around really happy right now. I have to also point out that anyone who puts $100/bottle truffle oil on green beans is my kind of person.
I will be working with developmental disabilities. There is no gray area for autistic kids. If they hate me, I'm done, job gone, so this is the big test. I'm going to do alot of research on autism the next couple of weeks so if anyone has any insight out there, pass it along via email, jo_annehampton@yahoo.com.
Why is this what I want? For now, and this can change at any moment (because I'm me) but there are three types of people out there. The first type are the you and me's of the world playing the game but separated from type two by a few million/billion dollars. Then there is the third type, the people who neither can play the game or make the game. It is a different world for them and considering I spend half my life in my own little world myself, it's not a far stretch for me to understand and help them brush their teeth in the mornings.
Besides, I can never again in my life ever work for the type two DKs and DWs of the world. I'll stroke out. I like putting my Hello Kitty underwear and cargo pants on in the morning and trying to explain to a client that maybe banging their head on the pavement won't get them exactly what they want but lets talk it out, maybe it will, who knows. You couldn't talk it out with DK. He'd just keep banging YOUR head on the pavement until he got what he wanted. DKs not a big bacon fan, by the way.
All in all, it appears that I am performing the balancing act quite well. Met some great people since I've been home, too. It's been a great week in Edmonton and I'm just all around really happy right now. I have to also point out that anyone who puts $100/bottle truffle oil on green beans is my kind of person.
Wednesday, June 9, 2010
Hump Day
I'm so impressed that I remembered what day of the week it was.
You know what tastes totally disgusting for breakfast? Reheated Mac & Cheese. From this day forward, I will never eat reheated Mac & Cheese for breakfast again. I'll save it for dinner next time.
It kind of feels like I'm back to work already. Job interviews, police checks, this check, other checks, CPR training, and an unemployment counsellor I might not be able to avoid any longer. Lists of jobs I've applied for, remaking a resume 200 times on a weekly basis, trying to write cover letters that sound like they have meaning to them but they really are just copied and pasted in the end from some website. Waking up in the morning, that's a big effort too. Time to start the celebrations. It IS Wednesday already, the week is pretty much over. Although I did say I'd save my liver for FIFA Friday. However, I don't remember who I said that to so it doesn't count. Besides, some of the games start pretty early, I highly doubt I'm going to get rip-roaring drunk at 5:30am. Or will I...hmmmmm
Before I sign off, I'd like to welcome back a few people into my life like my cleat-wearing, cycling idiot neighbors living above me. And the peanut gallery at Remedy - I'm always happy to entertain you. I'd also like to welcome some new additions into my life like the Lady Gaga construction workers next door - I'm always pleased to give you a fashion show of the latest Hello Kitty underwear collection. And I'm going to steal wood from you to finish my bed, just a heads up, as it is repayment for all the nails in my tires. I've got nothing else today. It's pathetic.
You know what tastes totally disgusting for breakfast? Reheated Mac & Cheese. From this day forward, I will never eat reheated Mac & Cheese for breakfast again. I'll save it for dinner next time.
It kind of feels like I'm back to work already. Job interviews, police checks, this check, other checks, CPR training, and an unemployment counsellor I might not be able to avoid any longer. Lists of jobs I've applied for, remaking a resume 200 times on a weekly basis, trying to write cover letters that sound like they have meaning to them but they really are just copied and pasted in the end from some website. Waking up in the morning, that's a big effort too. Time to start the celebrations. It IS Wednesday already, the week is pretty much over. Although I did say I'd save my liver for FIFA Friday. However, I don't remember who I said that to so it doesn't count. Besides, some of the games start pretty early, I highly doubt I'm going to get rip-roaring drunk at 5:30am. Or will I...hmmmmm
Before I sign off, I'd like to welcome back a few people into my life like my cleat-wearing, cycling idiot neighbors living above me. And the peanut gallery at Remedy - I'm always happy to entertain you. I'd also like to welcome some new additions into my life like the Lady Gaga construction workers next door - I'm always pleased to give you a fashion show of the latest Hello Kitty underwear collection. And I'm going to steal wood from you to finish my bed, just a heads up, as it is repayment for all the nails in my tires. I've got nothing else today. It's pathetic.
Sunday, June 6, 2010
Constant...Chaos
There are quite a few constants in life. Like my landlady never making the connection between the exterior light shorting out and the overnight door security system. Or the flow of Neil Young coming through my neighbor's window when he's stoned; That's guaranteed. Oh, and why is there always someone drinking and/or smoking up in a school yard after dark? What is that? Is there some deeply embedded psychological connection there? Sandboxes are just one big ashtray and burial plot. And kids always want to eat the sand, like a bear getting ready for hibernation. No wonder kids get so cranky at night.
However, our own lives are not a constant. You live, you work, you die of course, but everything in between is something like the Yellowhead in a snowstorm. The road never moves, but your car sometimes does. Sometimes at extraordinary high speeds. Unless you drive a Ford Focus like me, then you just sit there and enjoy the heat because that's about the only thing that works on that car. But you have to read the signs. One little turn in the road or test to the eardrum of say, hmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm, MICHAEL JACKSON, you could find yourself being scraped off the pavement. Unless you catch yourself in time, and then everything seems so much easier after that. But the ringing in your head of those last few lyrics will stay forever, "I'm bad, I'm bad...". The bleeding in your ears may also never stop.
Basically what I'm trying to say is, Michael Jackson is NOT the king of pop. And the little turns in the road are like changes in your life. Changes that make you think better on your feet, although a little chaotic and unnerving in even the most ideal conditions. You just have to drive the car given to you as best as you know how. Sometimes you end up with a Ford Focus. Sometimes you end up with a Porsche (can't stop talking about the Porsche dammit, the most amazing mode of transportation on this planet yet to date...the second degree burns are healing quite nicely, thanks for asking). Alternatively, you could just drive head first into a brick wall to stop the pain of "Young man....Y...M...C...A" but there is not always someone there to scrape you off the pavement. I was lucky my D Day was covered by my mom and my roommate. I'm pure titanium now. And slightly deaf.
I AM capable of playing this game of life now (although if I don't get either of these jobs that interviewed me today, I am seriously considering a brain transplant). And it is a game, a game that inevitably has to be played in order to survive a rather cruel social world - our world in a nutshell. We are definitely not instinctive animals; We do survive on society and if that is ever substantially proven wrong, I will burn my degree and move to the woods and eat squirrels and bugs. So let the game of chess begin...or build me a tree-house.
I do have to point out one last thing. I may have stopped driving this chaotic road for the last month, but my life was put on hold as a result and the temptation to stay in Ontario became enormous (there is no place like home). However, the job calls were coming in from Edmonton, not Toronto. If that is not a neon sign bedazzled by a five-year-old yelling, "hey stupid, over here", then I don't really know what is. It is good to take a pee break during that long stretch of nothingness (Manitoba, Saskatchewan) but you can only really pee (and text) on a pee break. Turning around to go back to where you came from is also completely unreasonable and worse than just stopping because you will be filled with self-doubt for the rest of your life. I'm glad I only sold off my bed before I left Edmonton (mind you, I didn't have much else other than shoes). The best thing you can do is finish the drive, get a so-called life, share the joy, and reinvent your idea of home because at some point, you might have to be the one out there scraping someone else off the pavement. My shovel is ready.
However, our own lives are not a constant. You live, you work, you die of course, but everything in between is something like the Yellowhead in a snowstorm. The road never moves, but your car sometimes does. Sometimes at extraordinary high speeds. Unless you drive a Ford Focus like me, then you just sit there and enjoy the heat because that's about the only thing that works on that car. But you have to read the signs. One little turn in the road or test to the eardrum of say, hmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm, MICHAEL JACKSON, you could find yourself being scraped off the pavement. Unless you catch yourself in time, and then everything seems so much easier after that. But the ringing in your head of those last few lyrics will stay forever, "I'm bad, I'm bad...". The bleeding in your ears may also never stop.
Basically what I'm trying to say is, Michael Jackson is NOT the king of pop. And the little turns in the road are like changes in your life. Changes that make you think better on your feet, although a little chaotic and unnerving in even the most ideal conditions. You just have to drive the car given to you as best as you know how. Sometimes you end up with a Ford Focus. Sometimes you end up with a Porsche (can't stop talking about the Porsche dammit, the most amazing mode of transportation on this planet yet to date...the second degree burns are healing quite nicely, thanks for asking). Alternatively, you could just drive head first into a brick wall to stop the pain of "Young man....Y...M...C...A" but there is not always someone there to scrape you off the pavement. I was lucky my D Day was covered by my mom and my roommate. I'm pure titanium now. And slightly deaf.
I AM capable of playing this game of life now (although if I don't get either of these jobs that interviewed me today, I am seriously considering a brain transplant). And it is a game, a game that inevitably has to be played in order to survive a rather cruel social world - our world in a nutshell. We are definitely not instinctive animals; We do survive on society and if that is ever substantially proven wrong, I will burn my degree and move to the woods and eat squirrels and bugs. So let the game of chess begin...or build me a tree-house.
I do have to point out one last thing. I may have stopped driving this chaotic road for the last month, but my life was put on hold as a result and the temptation to stay in Ontario became enormous (there is no place like home). However, the job calls were coming in from Edmonton, not Toronto. If that is not a neon sign bedazzled by a five-year-old yelling, "hey stupid, over here", then I don't really know what is. It is good to take a pee break during that long stretch of nothingness (Manitoba, Saskatchewan) but you can only really pee (and text) on a pee break. Turning around to go back to where you came from is also completely unreasonable and worse than just stopping because you will be filled with self-doubt for the rest of your life. I'm glad I only sold off my bed before I left Edmonton (mind you, I didn't have much else other than shoes). The best thing you can do is finish the drive, get a so-called life, share the joy, and reinvent your idea of home because at some point, you might have to be the one out there scraping someone else off the pavement. My shovel is ready.
Saturday, June 5, 2010
Ding Dong, The Witch is Dead
Ding Dong, the witch is dead. For those who know me or have spoken to me in the past week during the post road trip, you will understand. For everyone else, never mind. For all, bring on the vodka at my place. This party is just getting started.
For everyone out there going through what I was once thought was unemployment bliss, take a break from your life for a bit. Do it soon. Breathe for a minute. Afterwards, even the cruelest of characters will drop off your radar. I've got a couple in my life, but the more people I meet and that have entered my life in the past month, the less I care about the drama and they just seem to disappear to a small blip on the screen. Things are making alot more sense to me, too, now that I've stepped away, well, the things that don't really matter OF COURSE. Who do you think you're listening to???!!! Baby steps. Rule #1, do not date "separated" men. They are never separated. Rule #2, the world does not hate you because of your bad haircut disaster. The men are quickly replaced and the hair does grows back.
Besides, I'm not a person with high expectations despite what my roommate thinks. Not anymore, anyway. I'm ignoring the dust in my apartment (shared quarters, anyway, again, baby steps), the guys next door who think Lady Gaga should be heard from here to Calgary at 8am while drilling into concrete, dates who think a good night out on the town is french fries on me, and hold on, more Lady Gaga. I've got ear plugs, a king-sized bed, and two dresses in my closet that talk to me, "just because I'm 2007, doesn't mean I didn't earn my status at Holt Renfrew". These dresses don't deserve that kind of abuse and they're demanding a little more respect. They miss my polka-dotted bra though, and rebelling somewhat. Well, we're all upset about it, finding it missing when I got home was like losing my best friend. But I'm sure some oil dude at one of the hotels I was staying in last week is enjoying it right now as I write this. And I am the sharing type. However, I do hope whoever did find it wears it under their clothes and not over. I tried wearing it over once and it stretched all out and it was angry with me for weeks. Nobody should have to resort to tissue paper or silicon inserts, that's just wrong; You never know when some party breaks out and you're required to take it off and swing it around. Trust me, it's been an interesting week but I do NOT have pictures in case you ask. I am an upstanding citizen of this society and cannot afford the blackmail.
I'm making it. I truly am. Not the way I thought I was going to make it five months ago, but in a much better way. I'm taking life as it comes, Porsche or old Mustang. Life is definitely worth living, and although I'm thankful for the weight-loss made under extreme duress and hypochondriac-ness (tumours are NOT bad hangovers), I think I might have my old self back again. The old self after the disappearing act in Mexico and before the disappearing act to Taiwan. I should be clear on that. I was way more relaxed coming back from Mexico.
For everyone out there going through what I was once thought was unemployment bliss, take a break from your life for a bit. Do it soon. Breathe for a minute. Afterwards, even the cruelest of characters will drop off your radar. I've got a couple in my life, but the more people I meet and that have entered my life in the past month, the less I care about the drama and they just seem to disappear to a small blip on the screen. Things are making alot more sense to me, too, now that I've stepped away, well, the things that don't really matter OF COURSE. Who do you think you're listening to???!!! Baby steps. Rule #1, do not date "separated" men. They are never separated. Rule #2, the world does not hate you because of your bad haircut disaster. The men are quickly replaced and the hair does grows back.
Besides, I'm not a person with high expectations despite what my roommate thinks. Not anymore, anyway. I'm ignoring the dust in my apartment (shared quarters, anyway, again, baby steps), the guys next door who think Lady Gaga should be heard from here to Calgary at 8am while drilling into concrete, dates who think a good night out on the town is french fries on me, and hold on, more Lady Gaga. I've got ear plugs, a king-sized bed, and two dresses in my closet that talk to me, "just because I'm 2007, doesn't mean I didn't earn my status at Holt Renfrew". These dresses don't deserve that kind of abuse and they're demanding a little more respect. They miss my polka-dotted bra though, and rebelling somewhat. Well, we're all upset about it, finding it missing when I got home was like losing my best friend. But I'm sure some oil dude at one of the hotels I was staying in last week is enjoying it right now as I write this. And I am the sharing type. However, I do hope whoever did find it wears it under their clothes and not over. I tried wearing it over once and it stretched all out and it was angry with me for weeks. Nobody should have to resort to tissue paper or silicon inserts, that's just wrong; You never know when some party breaks out and you're required to take it off and swing it around. Trust me, it's been an interesting week but I do NOT have pictures in case you ask. I am an upstanding citizen of this society and cannot afford the blackmail.
I'm making it. I truly am. Not the way I thought I was going to make it five months ago, but in a much better way. I'm taking life as it comes, Porsche or old Mustang. Life is definitely worth living, and although I'm thankful for the weight-loss made under extreme duress and hypochondriac-ness (tumours are NOT bad hangovers), I think I might have my old self back again. The old self after the disappearing act in Mexico and before the disappearing act to Taiwan. I should be clear on that. I was way more relaxed coming back from Mexico.
The Roadtrip
Sorry it's been so long. Soul-searching (so-to-speak) requires a little effort.
Despite the purging of much of my worthless possessions, a month-long hiatus in Ontario, and a roadtrip across the country that can only be described as hell on earth (I now unwillingly know all the words to Michael Jackson and the Jackson Five, I won't go into details as not to offend someone), I've come to the conclusion (with absolutely no solid reasoning as of yet, but I'm okay with that) that Edmonton will be my home for a while yet.
Without much effort (but a little focus, it makes all the difference)I've managed a couple of job interviews in the weeks to come. My new direction will not make me rich, but it will make me happy. Don't get me wrong, I will be rich one day by my own doing. But in the meantime, maybe I can help others figure out their life.
With new focus also comes a new social life. I've been living my roommate's life long enough; It's time to make one of my own. I'm still stuck living the dorm lifestyle for now, but Porsche or old Mustang, money doesn't matter unless you make it matter to the people you surround yourself with.
So where's the humour in all of this? Well, none today, but I'm sure I'll think of something tomorrow. I do have a Porsche symbol emblazoned in my flesh in a search for the holy oil cap (note to self - let the engine cool before sticking arm in engine compartment), nothing like a perfect night out on the town ending underneath a car hood. It was like Armani meets Joy from My Name is Earl's trailer park. The only real difference between the two of us was one of us could afford the photo radar speeding tickets. And that person wasn't me. Seeing the city at 100km/hr is quite the experience. And that was before finding the oil cap. I so need a Porsche. And drinks every night at the Fairmont - love the Confederation Lounge. Although waiting for the sun to go down at this time of year will keep you up to almost midnight. Some guys should really bottle their charm and know-how and sell it, particularly to the ones that leave you with the $20 bill at a Sherlock Holmes pub. You lose some, you win some.
Despite the purging of much of my worthless possessions, a month-long hiatus in Ontario, and a roadtrip across the country that can only be described as hell on earth (I now unwillingly know all the words to Michael Jackson and the Jackson Five, I won't go into details as not to offend someone), I've come to the conclusion (with absolutely no solid reasoning as of yet, but I'm okay with that) that Edmonton will be my home for a while yet.
Without much effort (but a little focus, it makes all the difference)I've managed a couple of job interviews in the weeks to come. My new direction will not make me rich, but it will make me happy. Don't get me wrong, I will be rich one day by my own doing. But in the meantime, maybe I can help others figure out their life.
With new focus also comes a new social life. I've been living my roommate's life long enough; It's time to make one of my own. I'm still stuck living the dorm lifestyle for now, but Porsche or old Mustang, money doesn't matter unless you make it matter to the people you surround yourself with.
So where's the humour in all of this? Well, none today, but I'm sure I'll think of something tomorrow. I do have a Porsche symbol emblazoned in my flesh in a search for the holy oil cap (note to self - let the engine cool before sticking arm in engine compartment), nothing like a perfect night out on the town ending underneath a car hood. It was like Armani meets Joy from My Name is Earl's trailer park. The only real difference between the two of us was one of us could afford the photo radar speeding tickets. And that person wasn't me. Seeing the city at 100km/hr is quite the experience. And that was before finding the oil cap. I so need a Porsche. And drinks every night at the Fairmont - love the Confederation Lounge. Although waiting for the sun to go down at this time of year will keep you up to almost midnight. Some guys should really bottle their charm and know-how and sell it, particularly to the ones that leave you with the $20 bill at a Sherlock Holmes pub. You lose some, you win some.
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