Resolutions: Ones I'll Keep... Ones I Won't

Almost every year I make a bunch of resolutions that by two months into the new year I've either forgotten or broken beyond repair. In mindless adolescence I made the ridiculous resolution to find a boyfriend, promised myself I wouldn't let the highschool 'love of my life' back into my life, and all sorts of ludicrous relationship resolutions that have bluntly and painfully not panned out the way I thought they would. This year my resolutions are a bit more basic, a list of practical goals that I can meet with a little self control and a bit of determination.

Ten Resolutions I'll Keep:

Find a Job I'll Love.

This means pounding the pavement and getting out from behind my computer screen, a concept that has become more difficult since I've been in cyber land for the last eight months.

Appreciate the Area that I Live in More.

I spent 95% percent of my day behind a computer screen in one room of the house. I watch TV at the same time that I'm using my computer and I barely go anywhere, this needs to stop. I'm not the kind of person that enjoys the hermit life.

Start Writing My Book.

Between finding inspirations (this means reading and experiencing more) and actually putting pen to moleskine, I need to start writing my first novel.

Stop Shopping for Things I Don't Need.

A staple on almost every woman's list, nevertheless I don't have the money to throw around and buy, buy, buy so the debit/credit card is under suspension.

Put my BlackBerry in the Backseat When I'm Driving.

I drive a car with a manual transmission, holding my BlackBerry while changing gears is a no no. Even with bluetooth in the car I've found it hard to cut the crackberry habit for however long my trip is, this will stop.

Get my American Driver's License.

I have my Canadian one, but it's about time I traded the darn thing in and sat through that three hour video they make you watch. This should be the first thing I get done come Monday.

Learn the Virtue of Patience.

I've found that my patience has been running thin, whether I need to take up Yoga or a kickboxing class, I've got to find another outlet for my anger.

Stop Living Vicariously through Pop Culture.

I watch way too much TV and Movies, and I read too many books, it's become this thing where I live in them or through them, rather than finding my own path.

Spend More Time at Museums & Art Galleries.

I love these places, they're awe inspiring and I need to rekindle my love affair.

Reconnect With Myself, My Goals, My Desires, and My Plan.

Pretty self explanatory, but I need to develop a way to hold onto these things in the face of whatever adversity comes my way.

Three I Won't:

Be less pessimistic about love.

Three words: Just Not Me.

Lay off the sugary sweet stuff and lose 15 pounds.

Or else I find a job and move out this isn't going to happen any time soon, it'll be a found my independence resolution in a little while.

Stop repeating my romantic history.

I've fallen in love twice in my life, the two guys are more alike than I'd like to admit and neither are practical. However, I can't seem to break the cycle, I'm into the star crossed lover thing.

Out with 2010 in with 2011.

In the words of my all-time favorite Jezebel post - 'Fuck You 2010'

That's All She Wrote... For Now

Blowing Out the Candles

I'm ashamed that the last time I posted was so long ago. With less than a month until my 21st birthday I'm sitting around wondering what the hell happened in the last year. First off, my relationships sucked, my career goals have thrown me into some nearly crushing emotional turmoil, and my family has become an even bigger part of my life than they already were.

BONUS: I'm now a published author, well sort of, my chapter on Canadian Healthcare was finally published in Universal Healthcare Problems in the United States of America (you can buy your copy on Amazon.com). I'm almost 21, so what the heck does that mean? In the last year I've made more dating mistakes than I did in my entire four years of college and gone ahead and transported my life from one country to the next. The last month and a half has been a crazy whirlwind experience, especially working for POSHGLAM.com and next week I'll be heading to Toronto for LG Fashion Week.

Where this all become some sort of pseudo-picturesque life? I don't know. I'm more tired than I've ever been, which may have something to do with the fact that I've been taking day trips back and forth between NY and DC. But I've never been so insanely happy, my dreams are coming true in ways I'd never expected so soon. Now what, in a few days I'll be blowing out my candles again, is that all there is? I need my Masters so NYU better get ready for me.

That's all she wrote... For now

No Interview Could Be Worse

Being stood up for a date is one thing, being stood up for an interview you've waited for the chance to have for ages is totally different. For those of you that don't know, Lucky Magazine is my favorite magazine, well it was we'll see what becomes of it now that the esteemed founder Kim France is no longer Editor-in-Chief (moment of silence please). I was scheduled to have an interview with the online department, I arrived promptly at least 15 minutes before, although I'd been meandering in Times Square for a while before that promising myself I wouldn't be late. My appointment was set for 3:00pm and let's just say the increments on the clock increased moving from 2:45 to 4:08 before my interviewer found her way back into the building. I supposed I wouldn't have left a fashion show at NY Fashion Week to interview lowly little me either but nevertheless felt a little awkward being stood up for an interview of all things when I'd never been stood up for a date.

Nevertheless, I still dream of working at Conde Nast, I'm sure I botched that interview because by the time she arrived I was beyond exhausted and didn't even find it in myself to ask the right interview questions, nor have I sent a thank you note (although I usually always do). I'm currently using the security sticker as a bookmark and wondering how many of these things I'll have to collect before I earn myself a spot on the masthead of one of those illustrious magazines.

Did I mention I saw Anna Wintour. It took me over an hour of standing (not sitting) in front of the security desk before I caught a full up close view of the queen of fashion herself exiting the lobby. I thought the first time I would see her was going to be different somehow, instead there I stood as if I had cement shoes on in awe of the petite woman who stood there with her sharp bob cut, sunglasses in tow, and cell phone of a brand or make I could not recognize. I felt too stale (waking up before 6:00am will do that to you), too young, too unprepared and most of all too scared to approach her and so I didn't.

Score:
Conde Nast Security Stickers: 1
Conde Nast Job Offers: 0

I ♥ Ziplining

I'm a ziplining fool, well kinda, sorta, maybe. Being cooped up in a house 80% of the time these days has turned me into an adrenaline seeker. Minus the big hickey looking bruise on my left breast I think I met the love of my life yesterday, The Adventure Park at Sandy Spring. When I was little I climbed trees and developed an affinity for tying my skipping ropes in my grandparents mango trees to swing from them only to fall from them and end up with bruises (too much watching Tarzan & Jane maybe?). My father would curse "you're a girl, your skin cyan get batta bruise like this" (translation a girl's skin should be flawless) too bad I loved playing football (soccer) without shin pads too. Besides the point, I enjoyed myself immensely, anyone wanna go bass jumping or sky diving with me?

Staple or Sew

What you are about to read may seem shocking, you may empathize or think I'm stark raving mad, but this is all in good fun.

I exited Union Station on my way to my interview today, and while i felt the lining of my favorite purple pencil skirt riding up I scuffled along looking for a corner to hide so that I could pull the aforementioned lining down. Just my luck there was no such corner in sight, instead the only thing I found was the sound of the slit rip and all I could feel was a more than uncomfortable backside breeze. I scanned the area for a bench and dialed my version of 911 to my favorite Aunt's cellphone. As I sat down waiting for my guardian angel (who thankfully works strides away from the scene of the crime) I had to laugh to keep from crying. There's a reason I forced myself to leave 2 hours ahead of time, not because I'm psychic and could see my skirt ripping while walking down 1st street before it happened, if I had I would have worn pants.

I had the oddest eureka moment, let me explain: There's always that person on Project Runway you think is just too crazy, even for the show. Well today I finally understood Jason & the stapler. For those of you that don't watch Project Runway this is a guy who took a kimono, put it on his model backwards, stapled it together and called it fashion-forward. In an act of terminal desperation I asked my aunt to bring me a stapler & a sewing kit, thank God my guardian angel's mother was a seamstress. Suffice it to say I never used the stapler and she stitched my skirt back to perfection in 5 minutes, with a few tacks on the lining so I wouldn't have to face disaster two times in one day.

(image courtesy of Rahxy on deviantart.com)

That's all she wrote... For Now

Pop Art from Paradise

I went to Jamaica, came back & turned every shot of every flower I saw into pop art. Idle, aren't I?






Clearly PhotoShop & I are now officially best friends.

That's all she wrote... For Now

Ticket Stub

I was in a rush to catch my train and get to JFK yesterday, not that it mattered since my flight was delayed about an hour and a half anyway. While I was walking down the stairs entering the subway, this guy was walking up, we'll call him A. Usually when a guy tries to stop me I act like a deer (or doe) in headlights. A asks if I have a minute, I tell him "no, I don't have a minute, I have a flight to catch." For some reason me saying I had no time gave him cause to request two minutes, by this time I know I'm flirting (just a little bit) I ask him all too sweetly "if I don't have a minute, where would I get two," he antes up to three minutes and opts to follow me back down the stairs. It's a classic cat and mouse game, except I should hate this because I'm definitely not mousy. He asks for my number and instead of pulling out a smartphone or a rinky-dinky old phone he pulls out an AMC ticket stub, I'm a movie addict so it registers to me automatically. Instead of giving him the run around about not giving out my number the modesty of that action won me over, ain't I a sucker?

That's all she wrote... For Now

Riddle Me This

Riddle me this: If you're going to break up with someone isn't it common decency to at least let the other person know?

My friend just experienced what I can only describe as the most cowardly break-up I've ever seen. Can you imagine lapping up the sun and sand on vacation only to realize your boyfriend is now your ex after he proceeded to delete you from BBM and Facebook. It seems a bit childish, but without a sign deleting someone from your digital life, ignoring their calls and text messages means it's over, so why couldn't you just say that? Granted, text message break-ups suck but at least you've actually said something.

(image courtesy of wallride13 on DeviantArt.com)

She Used to Be My Mini Me...

Growing up my sister and I have had our moments, between the sibling rivalry and the intense sisterly affection we’ve found ourselves stuck with each other for life. She was born when I was seven years old and as I danced in the hospital chanting “I’m going to be a big sister” I had no idea how drastically my world was about to change. I've been the guardian of her best interests since day one, starting with preventing my mother from naming her Chloe. Can you imagine one sister named Chanelle and another Chloe, like a set of French fashion design houses? My mom might have thought it poetic, but I stood firm in my resolve. I named her Channon, sticking to my mothers plan that we'd both have the same initials. We are now and forever CTS1 & CTS2.

I blame her for stealing my childhood, and she’s taken responsibility for that with a shocking level of pride and amusement. Fate dealt me the final blow when she turned 13 and measured in at an inch taller than me. It was then I became the little sis, even though she teases me that I’m now halfway to 40.

When I finally got my license and a full time job I saved up time working extra hours so that I could take days off to spend with her. We went on sister bonding trips: shopping on Queen St. in downtown Toronto, exploring the Toronto Zoo and hiking at Crawford Lake (an almost near death experience *ahem*).

Now we live in a new place, and we’re making new memories starting with shopping sprees in Georgetown to burn off the calories from the Georgetown Cupcakes we ate for breakfast earlier that morning.

We have a mantra we live by when it comes to our ‘I love you’s that goes something like: “I love you; I love you more; you couldn’t possibly; I love you before God even invented the earth; times one million googooplex; times infinity, ha!” (kudos to my calculus knowledge). She calls me the most embarrassing nickname – Chanelly Babelly McSmelly from New Dehli and despite that we’ve never been closer than we are now. For the record, I love her more!

That’s all she wrote... For Now

Viva España!

I woke up this morning and I wondered if yesterday’s World Cup final was all a dream, as I’m sure a few members of the Spain and the Dutch national teams did as well. It took 1 red card, 14 yellow cards and 116 minutes, but Iniesta finally scored the winning goal that propelled Spain to the title of 2010 FIFA World Cup Champions.

I love soccer (futbol or football), and the World Cup is probably my favourite sporting event, but there are a few things that irked my nerves in yesterday’s game. Let’s start with the rhythm, when a soccer game has rhythm it is a beautiful thing, artistic even, but up until overtime rhythm was practically nonexistent. As for the foul play, I don’t think I’ve ever seen that many yellow cards pulled out in a final, the referees went overboard, granted that De Jong should have gotten a red in the first half for kicking Alonso in the chest. Every time I saw the ref reach for a card my heart sunk to my stomach, praying that it wouldn’t be directed at Spain. The nil-all tie that went on for 115 minutes of the game had me biting my nails and at some parts almost nodding off to sleep but the first and only goal scored that had me shouting “España, España, España” for everyone within a mile to hear made up for it as the sound of the vuvuzelas filled South Africa’s Soccer City.

I got up bright and early to prepare my Spanish themed lunch and dinner complete with empanadas, paella and sangria. I painted my fingernails in “Can You Tapas This” from the OPI Spanish Collection, and sat in front of the television watching and waiting for that one beautiful goal that would seal the 2010 World Cup.

I can’t even begin to fathom what I would have done if they’d lost.

What did you think?

Do you know what Iniesta's shirt said?

Do you believe in the psychic powers of Paul the Octopus?

Today I:

Walked on a labrynth. Ate a Strawberry Lava Fudge cupcake from Georgetown Cupcakes. Met a guy with the most beautiful green eyes. Was tempted to steal someone's Vespa. Wrote in the Georgetown Waterfront Park Journal. Bought a vintage jacket, 2 completely opposite style dresses & a pale gray skirt. Ate yummy sushi.

Today I appreciated my blessings & all of the challenges I've been faced with.

Today I spent some quality me time.

Today I rekindled my love affair with myself.

Today was a good day, no it was great.

That's all she wrote... For Now

The Age of Power

Ever feel like things are slipping away but you can't seem to understand why? Welcome to my world. You know the basics; I just finished undergrad, I turned twenty 7 months ago and now I'm stuck in limbo trying to move to NYC but not exactly sure when that's going to happen.

I've been dwelling on my quarter life crisis, and it's not as if I really have anything to be in a 'crisis' about. My world is changing and it happens to people every day. I finally got my copy of Communion by bell hooks today and twenty pages in I've realized something: this feeling of powerlessness that I've been dealing with is socialized (SUPRISE: like everything else tied to my 'femininity,' it's not inherent). hooks explains in the first chapter of the book that with age for a lot of women comes a sense of losing power, until they reach mid-life, that's when they start to get it back. I'm not sure why this resonates so well with me, it's not as if I had any intention of giving up my freedom, my freedom just somehow got attached to my adolescence. I'm only twenty years old, but I feel as if somewhere between my dream of wanting to be Editor-in-Chief and the part where I enter the real world and am actually supposed to make my dream happen, I was complicit in the giving up of my power; my brazen, hold no punches attitude. I think to myself, "I've got to get it back" (sounds eerily like one of those middle age women pining for their youth), but the truth is when I read this blog I realize it's still there, I just feel like it's not. So in the words of the late, great princess of R&B, Aaliyah - "age ain't nothing but a number."

That's all she wrote... For Now

Egos & Eros

We all have our egos, and somewhere deep down we'd like to believe that in addition to our own worlds someone else's world revolves around us too. Friendships go awry when we take our egos and our selfishness to higher levels than our secret thoughts. For the egomaniac friends, those of us who keep our self-adoration secret are supposed to keep up to date on what's happening in their lives, every minute detail. When we don't we're considered bad friends, being charged with failure on the friendship front can sometimes sting us. It's that failure that proves that the little egomaniac inside that we thought we had hidden well enough is showing its rather ugly head. Here's the reality check though, or else they've got the stalker mentality that has been fed by twitter and facebook, or you're a celebrity, no one is following your every move, and no one checks your status updates religiously to figure out every detail of your life. At the hands of this revelation the size of your ego should shrink back to a size that is easy to mask.

That's all she wrote... For Now

Sentimentality

(image courtesy of ghopper99 from deviantart.com)

I'm a sentimental person and if I didn't know it before moving after living in Canada for almost ten years of my life showed me that loud and clear. I saved the label from the wine bottle my Aunt got me for my 19th birthday. I would have saved the bottle but I had to cut a few things when I was trying to fit every detail of my 20 years of existence into a limited set of boxes. I've kept a million and one memory boxes with God knows how many ticket stubs, notes and photo booth strips and sorting through them was no joke. I wonder how much of my life has been wasted on my sentimentality, I've kept the new years resolutions my friends and I made on the leftover wrapping paper I had lying around in my first year of high school, reading those reminds me of how pathetic my adolescent life was. I was resolute to be happy and tell the man I 'loved' how I really felt, while my friends resolutions read something to the effect of "have a boyfriend." At least I can say that I've changed now, I know what makes me happy beyond the company of another person and I'm determined to achieve my goals, goals that are worthwhile. As for right now as I stew at home I'm determined to make the most of my freelance work, do a little more soul searching and find myself a job as an Editorial Assistant.

That's all she wrote...For Now

Let It Be

(image courtesy of sixstring on deviantart.com)

Now that my friends and I have all either graduated or are on the brink of graduation the topic of conversation has shifted from school to 'life.' Since I moved to the US my friends in Canada that have been checking up on me have all managed to ask me about the 'American Guys.' I figured that after knowing me fairly well all these people would remember that I'd rather sit home and read a book than go out trolling for men, not to mention the fact that since I'm rather opposed to gender ideals in society the likelihood of any man accepting me for me with all my so-called 'crazy feminist beliefs' is rather slim.

I believe my friends have a bet going behind my back (not so secret) exactly how long it'll take me to get married. While some believe I'm going to get married before any of them others take me at my word and believe me when I say that marriage just isn't for me. At least not the union that society calls marriage. My friends always tell me my problem is that I won't let a man be a man, but the real question is "why do these men feel the need to be what society tells them men are?" and "why can't men let me be the woman that I am?"

That's all she wrote... For Now

I'm NOT a G

(image courtesy of mimblewimble on deviantart.com)

Today I failed my G driving test. The horror that rushed through my veins when the examiner announced that there are a few things I'll need to correct before I'll be able to pass the test made my blood cold. I was nervous, and I'd like to say something like "she failed me for the sake of failing me," or that "I was cheated" (at least then it wasn't something I did), but I can't, instead I'll concede I let my nerves get the best of me and now I've got to pay for it. That by no means means that I am okay with my recent failure, I'm actually extremely disappointed (hence the need to express myself in blog form). In the way that only I can, I have poured over the evaluation sheet reading her comments and the scoring sheet repeatedly wondering when I did or didn't do something right. I have to wait about a month to go for my test again because everybody and their sister and bother seems to want to go for their test in the summer months. I guess this is my penance for passing my G1 and G2 tests on my first tries. I don't like to ponder failure, I would much rather ponder my successes, too bad this is the real world and failure comes more often than success here. I hope I pass next time is all I can say. On another note I was honored at a ceremony this week for my student initiative, to be exact I received the Albert Lager Prize for Student Initiative Award from the McMaster University Alumni Association. I think that makes up for the $75 I just blew while failing my G test.

That's all she wrote...For Now

The Mountains I'll Climb

(Rasta Vybz by Laura Fung)

I wonder sometimes if being a year ahead and graduating at the age of twenty is a disadvantage in more ways than it is an advantage. I look around and I see websites like Ed2010.com offering happy hour networking events as such, but the fact that I have yet to reach the ripe age of 21 seems to be more of a road block in instances like these. I'm still on the job hunt, and while I know practically everyone graduating in 2010 feels the same way, especially my fellow humanities or liberal arts majors looking for jobs in the publishing industry. I've been freelancing for a couple of weeks and I wonder how much longer I'll have to do it. Freelancing is something I'm sure I'd like doing for a little extra cash, but I'm wondering if I'd ever want to depend on myself hunting down jobs and pitching articles for my livelihood. I suppose freelancing is very good training for me and that I'd better start looking for some other freelancing opportunities and pitching to different magazines. I've got a lot to learn, and by no means is the daunting job hunt that I've been dealing with for the last month deterring my determination to conquer the publishing industry. I just have to find an EA (editorial assistant) job first! Wish me luck. I've applied for over 40 jobs and even though my ego gets stung each time I don't hear anything back I have to be as persistent as pesky gray hairs.

That's all she wrote...For Now

Jamaica...Land I Love

I've been a little more nostalgic than ever before, not so much for the days when my life was simpler but the days that Jamaican politics were simpler, a time I'm not sure ever existed. The media has declared Kingston, Jamaica to be a war zone, as the government called a State of Emergency on Sunday evening. The State of Emergency was called in fear of what the rotten underbelly or crime that monopolizes most of the Jamaican city would do to protect Christopher 'Dudus' Coke, a man some say is the equivalent of a mafia don, wanted by the US for charges of arms and drug trafficking.

As a proud Jamaican my heart has bled more than ever before for the country of my birth. Ever since I was little I've been warned by my parents and almost everyone else about Jamaica's criminal reputation, it's one of the reasons my parents chose to immigrate to Canada when I was eleven. There's a saying common to Jamaicans around the world that more Jamaicans live outside of Jamaica than in Jamaica. Sometimes I wonder if my parents did the right thing in moving, I know they tried to do their best by me and give me all the opportunities they felt I deserved, but did my parents and all the other people that have left Jamaica rape Jamaica of its human capital. If the majority of those that have the power to make change leave how can people expect the nation to become any better?

As criminals run rampant in the capital city of Jamaica blasting their AK-47's in the streets, stealing police cars and lighting police stations on fire, I wonder how it got this bad, how it came to be that one of the most beautiful places I have ever known has become a war zone, overrun by criminals that defiantly tell the world that the government and criminal justice system don't rule Jamaica, but that they do.

This is a pivotal moment in Jamaican history, my belief is that the corruption of the government and the infestation of crime that has been allowed to corrode the fibers of Jamaican life need to be wiped out and that we need to start from scratch. The last time such defiance was shown in Jamaican history was the slave rebellion, a cause that was clearly more virtuous than this.

Some Jamaicans have raised issues of state sovereignty, upset that the US believes that they can force the Jamaican government to extradite a national, the problem isn't that the US has imposed themselves, but rather that the Jamaican government has failed to fix this problem with an all too powerful crime lord that people seem to believe is above the law.

I will always love Jamaica, and with that I leave you with our National Pledge, a beacon of Jamaican promise that I believe that in all this chaos every Jamaican has failed to truly uphold.

Before God and all mankind,

I pledge the love and loyalty of my heart,

The wisdom and courage of my mind,

The strength and vigour of my body,

In the service of my fellow citizens,

I promise to stand up for justice,

Brotherhood and peace, to work diligently and creatively,

To think generously and honestly,

So that Jamaica may under God,

Increase in beauty, fellowship and prosperity,

And play her part in advancing the welfare of the human race.

That's all she wrote...For Now

The Unromantic Romantic

(image courtesy of ExCom on deviantart.com)

I always tell people that I’m not romantic, not because I don’t believe in love or want to fall in love but because I, for some reason am caught up in the belief that I’ll never experience the incandescent bliss I’ve read about in Jane Austen novels. It’s true that real life pales in comparison to the imagination. Every self proclaimed ‘romantic’ I know has a checklist of qualities that the potential love of their lives will possess. I guess that the time and energy they spend daydreaming about and planning for their future lover makes them romantic, but to me that checklist turns love into a science, something I believe to not only be impossible but unromantic. The truth about love isn’t that you’ll fall in love with someone that fits your checklist, it’s something completely different, you can’t quantify and narrow down the exact qualities you’ll find in a person that will spontaneously create love. The best thing about love is that it’s not logical, and no matter how much you think you know what you want in a mate, the heart has a different agenda. Maybe I am a romantic, not in the classical sense of course (when have you ever known me to be conventional?); I am resigned to believe that one day, if it’s meant to be I will find love, but I’ve decided that I can’t plan my life around it, and I realize that I can’t plan it either.

That's all she wrote...For Now

Connection Theory

(image courtesy of Neesha on deviantart.com)

My best friend once told me (in her 'I've been studying this material endlessly for my midterm, so I know what I'm talking about' voice) that there are no truths, just theories that have been proven false. Maybe nothing is an exact science, if so life and love are definitely no exception.

People always say the key to every good relationship is communication, and whether or not we're socially or genetically programmed to be this way I've come to realize something about most men and women. As much as I hate to generalize most of the women I know believe that the first step to connecting with someone is talking (them to death) and most men I know are more inclined to communicate through sex, and prefer to talk via the pillow. I can't count the number of times I've heard the 'you can't sleep with him until you know his middle name, birth date, favorite color, (insert alleged personality defining characteristic here),' a rule that once fulfilled never seemed to actually save any of the relationships I know from the 'crash & burn' disaster that was ahead.

What I'm really talking about are the dating rules: the theories about how to get what you want from love and life - if you missed my memo earlier: we'll never be able to prove these theories true.

Ever wonder what's wrong with these expectations? Why don't we just say what we mean and do what we want? If we were more open about what we wanted from the other person wouldn't we be better off? Relationships are complicated enough, why do we add this dishonesty into the mix?

One of my favorite quotes is: "Once the wheel of love is set in motion there are no rules and no order," which is what a relationship really is... For all the theories people have thrown out about love, just like science, all we've done is dispell and develop a bunch of fallacies. Life happens, and whether or not she sleeps with him on the first or second date, or he opens the door for her and picks up the check aren't in reality what makes or breaks a connection.

That's all she wrote...For Now

All You've Got to do is Say...No

(image courtesty of meppol on deviantart.com)

Sometimes as much as you want to say yes, you know the answer should be no. Temptation always seems to mount when you're in a relationship. That guy you'd wondered "what if" about for an eternity finally decides he's ready to show you exactly what you've been missing (oo and it's a lot). If you're strong, you say no and you deny yourself that exquisite pleasurable experience. If you've got the backbone of a snail, you succumb, let yourself fold into the passionate throws and the next day (granted you have the capacity to feel shame) you stare at the tattered shreds of your morality that have all gone to hell.

Whether the night in question is worth it is up for debate. If you said no and wake to find the other side of the bed empty, your mind may wander and linger on all sorts of dark places. While you contemplate what could have been you can take solace in knowing you did the right thing (even if your body is aching for the caresses of the lover you denied). As for those of you that said yes, you should now do the right thing and say goodbye to your relationship, or else yours is one of the 0.001% that can survive infidelity (make no mistake, you are most likely not the exception).

That's all she wrote...For Now

Putting it in Ink

(image courtesy of roddh on flickr)

Yesterday one of by BFF's got his first tattoo - rumor on the street is that I'm next (but I highly doubt it). It's on that list of my 'what if's' that I don't plan to follow through on. I'm the kind of person who writes in my moleskine not on my skin, but if I were to get one I'd get the Jamaican national hummingbird perched on a Ginger Lily or Bird of Paradise plant on my right pelvic bone (not that I've put any thought into it). I also watched two girls get their tongues pierced (yikes!). I've got the standard two ears pierced and nothing else, as much as my friends would like me to join the club, tattoo's and piercings won't be on the docket this decade or the next.

That's all she wrote...For Now

The Double D

(image courtesy of alephunky on deviantart.com)

Don't get me wrong, I love partying with my friends and I can usually do it sober (& by sober I mean no alcohol but 2 to 3 cans of Red Bull flowing through my body) but being the designated driver sometimes for lack of a better phrase - sucks out loud! I got roped into going to a soca fete last night and coaxed into being the cursed double D. I usually don't mind for the most part, but as I looked around at my circle, everyone and I mean EVERYONE else had a Heineken in hand and I have to admit I was a bit jealous!

I love to dance, music unleashes this kind of unparalleled high causing my hips to gyrate (& me to belt out one song after another with more feeling than is ever actually called for) - but when I hit my soca music quota for the night my vibe hit a serious lull. A lull that could have definitely been cured by a bit of liquid inspiration, lesson to self: soca fete≠ designated driver.

That's all she wrote...For Now

Cravings

Now I've been pretty good for the last couple years. I stopped eating until I was stuffed, and started eating until I was satisfactorily full (&& lost 40 pounds that way), but over the last few months that good eating regime flew through the window. I surprisingly haven't put on any weight yet, but I'm bound to soon. Seeing as how I'd like to fit into that size 4 dress hanging in my closet, that thanks to my genes doesn't exactly fit my round behind - this needs to stop. My thoughts center around my career, my love life, my closet and FOOD! Bad combination - because if I'm not thinking of the other three things, I'm either eating or thinking about eating. When I think about all the summer paychecks that I didn't save, more than half of that went to feeding my eating out obsession. It doesn't help that my best friends a chef mind you! Don't get me wrong even though I eat quite a bit I do eat healthy, loading up on veggies rather than carbs. So here's the issue - should I diet or not, summer's coming and with the warm weather short shorts and bikini's, giving me less and less choice. Let's see if I can get through a week of eating to satisfaction rather than stuff-ation, I can do anything if I set my mind to it right?!? I'll update you when I do it, but only after I get that burrito I've been craving!

That's all she wrote... For Now

Got Goals?

(image courtesy of lichyz on deviantart.com)

Someone told me that I have too many role models, a statement I don't believe to be true, but I digress that with so many amazing women in this world how could I pick just one, or two for that matter? Every girl should have two things: a style icon and a career role model.

My style icon's: Audrey Hepburn and Tami Chynn both have this amazing quality about them; one is the embodiment of class and chic, the other is bold, yet ultra-feminine.

I think that after I've satisfied my career goals I'd like to publish 5 great novels like NYT Best Selling author Candace Bushnell - but that'll be the cherry on top. As for the whole sundae so to speak - Robin Givhan - The Pulitzer Prize winner for Criticism and Fashion Critic for The Washington Post is it! Givhan relates fashion to politics and aspects of culture and that is what I want to do! Considering I'm going to need a job in a couple of months, does anyone know if she's looking for an assistant?

The purpose of a role model is to help you be better; to achieve your goals, so choose wisely and follow their lead!

That's all she wrote... For Now

Lessons for the Youth

(image courtesy of i~am~so~tired on deviantart.com)

There are a few lesson everyone should be taught early in life, number one: do not, I repeat DO NOT (or else you enjoy puking your guts out at the end of a great night) mix Vodka with more than one or two kinds of alcohol. You should also note that rum & cokes are the holy grail, actually, preferably Wray & Nephews Overproof Rum and Pepsi. If you intend to get inordinantly pissed designate cell phone duty to a trusted friend (or else you're aiming to end up on textsfromlastnight.com, if so by all means text away - I'll be glad to laugh). Experiment! You can't truly find a favourite drink if you don't try more than three! Judge a man by the beer he drinks, Exhibit A: my standard - if a man is drinking anything other than Heineken or Red Stripe (and on the off chance there's Guinness), he will not get my number.

That's all she wrote...For Now

What's Your Number?

(image courtesy of ladymorgana on deviantart.com)

This week has been all about numbers, I sat in a class about Women as public intellectuals and somehow ended up on the subject of sex and the infamous number which sparked the inspiration for this post. A friend of mine once told me that her maximum number is five; meaning she's only allowed to sleep with five men in her lifetime. I found it strange that she'd relegated herself to a solitary number for the amount of men she's allowed to sleep with, not to mention the amount of pressure on lucky #5. For my friend the number five is the divide between a good girl and a bad woman, as for me I've always liked the bad girls - so here's to 5 and how ever many more I choose! I own my number, do you? In honour of International Women's Day (which is March 8), you definitely should!

That's all she wrote...For Now

As I Am

He called me a free spirit and I thought "What? Wait! Hmmm, maybe I am." I've always prized the fact that I like going against the grain. Being different is pretty much the point of me being alive, as my roommate who thinks that it's pointless to challenge society has discovered after our many diatribes. For one of the first times in a relationship I feel like I haven't been misjudged, or judged at all for that matter (&& I like it). We're always trying to figure out the trick to making a relationship work, for me I've always felt a bit uneasy around people in general when I know I'm not completely accepted, an unease that's magnified tenfold in relationships. I gave him the usual disclaimer "I'm a feminist, a klutz, and extremely unconventional, not to mention the fact that I can be a huge B****" and the conversation didn't end there, to my surprise as a matter of fact it's been going on 2 weeks of non stop talking. We'll see how I manage to mess this up, maybe it'll be that I feel stifled so easily that I can't stay in one place too long. I'm always waiting for the bottom to drop out, probably because it always does. He said I need to stop being so pessimistic but I'm a realist on the road to cynicism so we'll have to see how that goes too.

Maybe all we really need in relationships is for someone to take us as we are.

That's all she wrote...For Now

Friends & The Fast Lane

Ever feel like cutting each and every person out of your life and not completely understanding why? Maybe for a split second or a few hours I lost my faith and trust in my friends. I don’t know exactly what it was that came over me, but in one fell swoop I decided that since I’m moving in three months putting up with betrayal and lies and being sceptical of everyone in my life wouldn’t be a good way to spend my last days. I lashed out about the concept of facebook friends, considering that maybe no one is really friends with anyone anymore. I wanted a clean slate, to escape the tyranny of others I call my friends, to start over; maybe I’ve wanted it for a long time and been too afraid of what it’s like to have no friends. The last straw was gossip from the mouths of friends, which my best friend promptly proceeded to highlight was seriously ironic because my favourite TV show is Gossip Girl, a statement that broke the ice (making both of us burst into a fit of giggles) and making it evident how stupid I was being. It’s easier to push people away than to lose them with no control over the terms and situation. Call me a control freak, but lately I’ve been feeling like I’ve lost my mind, life happens, there’s nothing we can do about it, we’re just along for the ride and I'm about to hit the fast lane when I move to NYC.

That's all she wrote...For Now

This is it...

This is where it all begins, welcome to That's All She Wrote...For Now. On January 9th I tweeted"Your 20s are made for world traveling, torrid affairs, climbing to the top & getting into a drunken haze you'll only recover from in your 30s." Three months ago I hit the big 2-0 with some trepidation, reaching half way to 40 is no joke, but I'm getting used to the idea. Maybe it's that I feel like I've been stuck in a rut for my teenage years, rehashing and repeating the bad relationships and the silly mistakes, but now there's no nostalgia for the bad hair and the sometimes even worse wardrobe choices. Consider this chapter one of the new book of my life.

My name is Chanelle Sicard, I'm 20 years old and I'm going to paint the world in a colour I have yet to invent =D, case & point: you should be scared.

Chapter One: the haircut, now I've never been one of those people that think the hair defines the woman, but after 4 years of wanting to cut my hair and letting everyone under the sun talk me out of it I finally decided it was time. Modeled after my favourite singer Tami Chynn and my favourite actress Audrey Hepburn, I sprung for an uber short pixie cut with slightly longer than usual bangs. Maybe it's reinvention 101, but I can't help but love it.

...serious question though: Why did my new haircut just make black the most appealing colour in my wardrobe?

That's all she wrote...For Now