STFU: Things you should never say to people...

Inspired by a tweet I saw this morning, I felt compelled to give a little lesson on etiquette when speaking to other people. Please read carefully, and follow these basic rules of life...

You look tired: First of all, everybody knows that "you look tired" is code for "you look like shit." Seriously people, nobody ever looks good when they're tired, so you may as well say "you look like a shit with a side of bags under your eyes." Ugh. Second, if I look tired it probably means that I am tired and if I am tired I don't need you to remind me of it, especially if your comment isn't followed up with a solution to my exhaustion. If there is no cozy bed and warm glass of milk at the end of your statement, don't say it. Just don't.

The only exception to this rule is if mom or grandma says it to you, because they gave you life and can therefore say pretty much anything to you, and they're also most likely saying it in a sympathetic way that could land you a nap and a sandwich...

Are you expecting or When is your due date?: I make it a point to NEVER ask a woman if she's pregnant. Never– even if she's nine months along and all baby, I keep my lips sealed. I learned this little trick after someone asked me if I was expecting. ("Um what?! No. No I'm not...")

If mom-to-be slips it into the conversation, go nuts. If someone else slips it into the conversation, go nuts. Just don't bring it up, cause if there's no baby at the end of that question, you've just ruined someone's day and self esteem.

Oh, and if someone calls you out for not noticing or thinks you're rude for not congratulating them, you can just tell them you did notice but you make it a point to never bring it up until someone else does, then tell them about the time you awkwardly congratulated someone who wasn't with child. they'll understand.

Any reference to a person gaining weight: I can't stress this enough: DO NOT TELL SOMEONE THEY'RE GAINING WEIGHT. First of all, they know, good lord do they know! (It was probably super apparent to them when they couldn't zip up their jeans that morning and they had a nervous breakdown because they had nothing to wear that fit...)

If you tell someone (in any way) that they are getting fat, have gained weight, or anything like that, you are an asshole. This includes girls, guys, kids...Anyone. Nobody wants to hear your opinion on their weight. Nobody. Plus, saying this only ruins someone's day and makes them feel bad about themselves.

This includes backwards compliments as well. I know you likely mean well, and you're only trying to be nice when you tell me that I have a "pretty face," or that I "wouldn't look good as a skinny person." But damn, can't you say something nice without bringing my flubs into it?! A simple "You look nice today" will suffice.

The BS Club

Today I joined a club called the BS Club. (No seriously, I did.) It's a legit club in Portage and it means what you think it means; bull shit. (click here to read a story I wrote about them.)

The BS Club has been around for roughly the same amount of time that I've been around. The president, Don Whyte, is a retired school teacher who is as cheeky as the club itself. He has this charm and genuine sense about him that renders you to fall in love in about eight seconds flat. (And I don't necessarily mean you fall in love with him. No, you fall in love with the notion that there is a club in Portage la Prairie that has been around for a long, long time and it's called the BS Club, and the members are as you think they would be; laid back and friendly!)

So I joined the club today. My membership cost me $5 and it's good for an entire year. I got a membership card and I even have my own BS number (it's 83 in case you were wondering...) If I so desire, I can meet the club members (who basically consist of anyone who has five bucks and wants to be in the BS Club) every Tuesday at the Cat and the Fiddle bar at the Midtown Motor Inn in downtown Portage, where they drink beer and hold raffles. It's not formal, yet it's a staple Tuesday afternoon to the longtime members.

Did I mention I'm in love?!

The BS Club also does something else that's beyond cool; twice a year they donate $500 to different charities that help people. Why? Because they want to help people.

If you're ever in Portage on a Tuesday afternoon, swing by the Cat and the Fiddle at the Midtown Motor Inn and buy yourself a membership for the BS Club. You don't need to drink, or even buy into the daily raffle. You'll probably feel compelled to, but you don't have to. Heck, you don't have to do anything you don't feel like doing in the BS Club, it's a 'whatever goes' kinda club!

Bottom line: I guarantee you that you'll fall in love with the club and its members.

Number 83, signing off...

(Note: I didn't partake in any drinking at the BS Club today, FYI.)

these days...

Life is chaotic these days.

I just finished my weekend stint at my part time job, and am now getting ready for my work week at the newspaper. I'm tired, but this is what I need to do right now to move forward in my career. It will pay off one day, that's what everyone keeps telling me.

I enjoy being a journalist, it's hard work, but extremely rewarding. I like telling people's stories, and I'll admit, I still get excited when I get the cover. I try not to act excited, or even tell anyone, but it's a good feeling. I hope I never stop getting excited about it.

One of the most difficult challenges I've faced so far is the unfamiliarity that comes with being new to a community. As time goes on, I'm becoming more and more familiar with Portage la Prairie; both the city and the people, but the first little while was downright hard. Not knowing your surroundings is uncomfortable because you always feel like you're lost, and it's your job to not only find yourself (so to speak) but to also tell the entire community the story (or stories) you've been assigned as though you're one of them. Nobody wants to read news from an outsider; would you?!

Even being lost was a good thing for me, because it's something I've never experienced before, and it's a learning curve that makes me better at my job. Right now I'm working at becoming a member of the community– or at least an honourary member. Since I'm only working in Portage for the summer, I'm not relocating, but I am trying really hard to fit in.

In all the job is good. I am getting better at my craft, and learning a whole new side of being a journalist– I falsely assumed that working a small community newspaper would be a synch, especially since I have experience writing for the Winnipeg Free Press and the Winnipeg Sun. I've discovered that, like most jobs, being a journalist differs from place to place. The overall job is the same, but there are subtle differences that makes each experience its own.

NOTE: The pic doesn't really go with the post, but I like it. I'm wearing dollar store reading classes because I think I need glasses, but I am far too busy to go to an optometrist and find out...

The Picture

I got some mail from school yesterday. When I opened it, I saw that it was a picture of me and CTV's Kelly Dehn, taken at a Red River College awards dinner a few months ago.

I looked terrible.

Aside from being ungracefully huge, my hair and makeup looked ratty and tired, and I'm making this face like I'm about to say something. It's an awful picture, it really, really is.

I don't know why, but I started to cry almost instantly after I looked at it. There I was, standing in the hallway of my apartment; I couldn't look away, yet I couldn't look directly at it either. The picture seemed to have this sort of power over me. At that moment, all the denial I have about myself and the way I look was washed away with that raw image. It was like a tsunami of cold hard reality. There I am in all of my glory, holding my coveted award, and I look like that.

Barf.

It's vain to care so much about your appearance, I know that. I also know that an "educated woman" should be smarter than to let something so superficial, like her appearance, dictate how she thinks and how she feels about herself. Logically I am on top of the word; or at least I was that day the picture was taken. Yet looking at the picture now, from outside of my denial, it just seems so awful and embarrassing.

This should motivate me to do something about my appearance. If I don't like it, I should change it. I do subscribe to that mentality, it's what got me through school. Yet, here I am, at the pinnacle of so many unfathomable life accomplishments, being sucked in by my incessant weight preoccupation and negative self image.

My attitude toxic and far uglier than the picture.

I heard this song on the Ace Burpee show the other day. It was profound to me now (more than ten years later...) Sound advice, that I should consider when I get bummed out about stupid things like pictures that I look bad in.

Life is short, right?!

Tights are NOT pants...

Yesterday I wore a long plaid shirt and capri tights to work. It was hot outside and I wanted something comfortable to wear. (I'll admit that until yesterday I never wore the tights alone. They've always been paired with a dress or skirt) But I was feeling bold, and I figured that it was time to shine and to make a statement and own my child-baring hip-hugging tights...

(That morning I was having a bona fide "You Go Girl Moment")

Needless to say, I wore the tights and I thought I looked pretty darn good. (No really, I even took pictures of myself in the bathroom because I wanted an outfit shot in the big mirror...) I thought I had coordinated a decent outfit that was trendy-ish.

Later that afternoon I was assigned to cover an awards ceremony at the local high school. My mission was to take pictures of the grads accepting awards for their hard work and academic achievements.

"OK," I thought. "This'll be a synch."

Hell, it's only a couple of photos right?!

So I get to the high school, and I am sitting at the back of the gym with the teachers. I feel a little self conscious, but I pass it off as me just being me. I ignore the feeling and sit there, waiting for the grads proceed into the gym. When they do, I get up and start to take all kinds of pictures.

Click, click, click, flash...

This is all fine and dandy, however when it came time to take pictures of students accepting their awards, I realize that I'm going to have to get bold and walk on up to the front of the entire room. (My lens isn't good enough to capture close-ups. I gotta do what I gotta do, right?!) Even though I already have this weird sort of phobia about high schools and walking in front of people, I go for it.

"OK," I thought. "I can do this."

So when it comes time for the next kid to accept their award, I get up and I start walking to the stage. I instantly notice that my shoes are stupidly loud, and I start to chicken out because I am making so much noise.

Clunk, clunk, clunk, clunk...

I stop halfway down the row, kneel down and start snapping photos.

"I gotta get some good pics," I tell myself. "A good reporter would."

My photos are decent, but I can do better. I need to get even closer to the action. The principal calls the next award recipient's name, the crowd starts to clap, and I make my move. (Trying to hide my noisy shoes in the applause. Brilliant.)

I am now even closer to the stage, I start crouching down and snapping shots of the students, the awards, the presenters, the teachers on stage...Everything and anything I can think of that might make for a good shot. I've turned into a trigger-happy wanna be photographer.

I should note that as I am taking pictures, I am still on the floor, trying to stay out of everyone's way. (There were hundreds of people behind me, watching their kids, the last thing I wanted to do was to distract them or to disturb this moment for them.) I'm crouching, and on my knees, and then getting up and crouching down. I'm all over the place, thank goodness I wore tights since they're so easy to move in...

I finally finish up, the ceremony ends, and I walk back to my car on the gorgeous sunny afternoon. I feel as though I have captured some good shots; mission accomplished.

Well, as it turns out, later that day I ran into a friend of mine and he informed me that my pants were see-through.

"They look like panthose, maybe just a little less see-through," he said, adding that the sunlight made my tights even more transparent. "I can see everything."

I was mortified.

I'll admit, the tights felt like leotards, but since they didn't have that weird seem running up the butt like leotards do, I thought they were safe to wear as pants. (Plus, I bought them in the pants section at Walmart for goodness sakes. I bought them in the PANTS SECTION.) That morning I even made sure to look in the mirror at least a thousand times before leaving for work, because this was my first tiem wearing them without a skirt or dress. They felt a little light, but I certainly didn't notice that they were see-through.

"Oh my god," I thought.

"Well, at least you're not wearing granny panties," was his reply.

More utter humiliation.

He can see my underwear. Everyone can see my underwear. Everyone already saw my underwear. Things have gone so far downhill, I am literally walking around naked and I have been walking around parading my gigantic half naked bum all day. I went to the high school and stood up in front of everyone, taking pictures and crouching all over the place. I went to work, and walked around like nothing was amiss. I went to the gas station, Tim Horton's and Safeway like this. I was out there, showing my shit all over Winnipeg and Portage. I'd venture to say that at least a couple hundred people saw my half naked bum in my see-through tights that I bought in the pants section of Walmart, that aren't even pants.

This was mortifying. It felt like a Josie-Grossie moment (You know, Never Been Kissed, where Drew Barrymore goes back to high school as an undercover reporter, but no matter how hard she tries, she just isn't cool. Yep, that was me...)

The bottom line friends, tights are not pants. Stop trying to make them into something they're not and just accept them for what they are. Tights are NOT pants.

a little bit of stuff...

I don't even remember the last time I was this bad at blogging.

Nearly a month has gone by since my last blog post, which was also infrequent. A lot has happened, yet I feel like I have nothing to say. (Bizarre, I know.)

So I'm finally a paid journalist now.

I've been working a summer gig in Portage, at its paper(s). The work is good, but a lot harder than I imagined it would be. (Seriously, I didn't peg community-based news to be so difficult to write, but it is! It's a whole new element to what I've learned in CreComm, but, every day is a learning experience, and I've learned a lot from this gig already... Sometimes it seems like I still haven't learned it all yet, and I get frustrated with myself– it's tough to jump head first into something you know absolutely nothing about, especially when you're supposed to be so good at what you do... I imagine this is how it feels to start at any new job.)

Anyway, the gig is good, the people are nice, and I am certainly learning a lot.

Life has been very good to me as of late, I really should start blogging more so I can tell you all about it. While I'm at it, maybe I should brag and name drop a little. (I'm mostly kidding. I don't really have anything to brag about. hahaha)

Anyways.

This is just getting uncomfortable.

Let's just call this the awkward post to break the ice. Now that I've broken the ice, I promise that I will start blogging on a more consistent basis from now on. I swear. (I like how I'm actually writing this post as though I am writing to masses of devastated people who actually read my blog. I mean, I know my mom probably misses being in the blog loop, but for the love of Roxy, I have to remember to remind myself that I'm not famous, and that a mass of people don't read my blog. Sometimes I forget. No really, I do...)

Anyway, life is good, but I am still insanely busy. (I thought that was supposed to stop after CreComm was over? Like, I graduated. I'm supposed to be travelling down easy street, making buckets of money, with the rest of the CreComm mafia. Aren't I?! Aren't the rest of you travelling down easy street, making buckets of cash?! No? Oh...) Ugh.

Either way, this journey has begun...

I'll blog more soon readers (AKA Mom.)

Cheers.

How badly do I want this?!

Now that school's over I'm going through the exciting and nerve-racking experience of looking for a job. And as it turns out, there appears to be no jobs for new journalists in Winnipeg. (What did I expect though, really, they told us this going into school...) Most postings ask for three to five years years of field-related experience. That doesn't stop me from applying, but I'm also realistic about my chances of even getting an interview, never mind the job!

So, like so many new journalists do, I've started applying outside the province.

This is the way that the industry works; your success in landing a job depends not only on how good you are, but how far you're willing to go. The smaller markets are the places that people start. You can't expect to not have to work your way up in this industry.

I've spent the last couple of days, sending out resumes to places that I know very little about, or in some cases, have never even heard of. I've researched each place, googling to find out how far I'd have to venture away from home, and what I'd have waiting for me if I did get a job there. I've thought about long drives home, and about how much time I'd have in solitude, because I'd have no friends. My over-active mind has allowed me to think of all the good and bad aspects that would come with chasing my dreams outside of my comfort zone...

This entire process has forced me to ask myself: How badly do I really want this?!

Pretty bad.

I see moving out of this province as something that is both scary and exciting. Sure, if I got a job outside of Winnipeg I'd be sad to leave my family and friends, but the way I look at it is that I finally have the opportunity to do something that I've always wanted to do. I have worked so hard over the last four years that I can't let something like geography stop me from building my dream career.

I don't want to have any regrets about not pursuing my dream job simply because I was too scared to leave home. I can't imagine anyone not being scared to uproot themselves, but scarier than moving is living with a looming "what if" for the rest of my life.

Perhaps I'll land an awesome gig in Winnipeg. Perhaps I won't. Either way, the adventure is just beginning...

Image: http://mikelucero21.wordpress.com/2010/02/25/how-bad-you-want-it/

At this moment...

It's been awhile since I've blogged. Life is hectic, even though I am finished CreComm. (I was foolish to think that things would slow down once school ended. I am still extremely busy and even far more exhausted than I've ever been in my life. I think the last two years have officially caught up with me!)

I've been meaning to blog, but I keep putting it off because I don't have anything clever or witty to say. To be honest, I am just so happy right now; my life is becoming something that I never thought it would be...There is a light at the end of the tunnel!

I don't want to sound cheesy or like I'm bragging, but life is good and I worked damn hard to get where I am. Right now I am relishing in it.

My work placement at HOT 103 is coming closer to an end, which means I am on the hunt for a job! I'm so excited (and a little bit scared) for this next chapter in my life, because I am comfortable right now, and because I never thought I'd be able to do what I love for a living.

Now that CreComm is actually over, the sky really is the limit...

I will continue to blog, so please keep my on your blog-lists. (I promise, the next post will be better, I swear!)