Plans and Paths

What is it they say about the best laid plans …

Three years ago I was offered a job that took me away from the centre of the universe and everything and everyone I knew. I came here very skeptical of everything but the job and a handful of friends. I never really thought I would call this place home. I always planned to be gone within a year or two. That is the funny thing about plans isn’t it, they change. I was talking to the lady tonight and the conversation turned to life plans and paths.

My plan we always to work hard and be successful, it is what I know, what I love and what I know I can do. My path to get there has never been as certain and my plan. How I get there has never been clear to me. Anytime someone asks me -where do I see myself in five years - I can never tell them because I don’t know. I am coming to realize that the SSM needed to follow through with his plan and find his path. It reminded me of a time when I was so focused on a path that I hurt someone I cared about.

Six months before I took my current job I applied for a job that would have taken me from the centre of the universe and I did so without consulting my boyfriend of over a year. My plan was career and this job fit perfectly into my plan. The day I found out I got the interview I was ecstatic and nervous. I wanted to talk to him about how I was feeling and what was going to happen and he wanted nothing to do with me.

At the time I was really mad at him for leaving me when I needed to talk and figure things out, but in hind site he was probably hurt by the fact that I was planning my future and it didn’t seem to matter whether he was there or not. My plan was about my career and if it diverged from the relationship path, well, that can be the price of success. It wasn’t that I wanted out of the relationship or thought it unimportant, but my plan had been my focus for years and this man hadn’t been around nearly as long. I didn’t end up getting that job and when the time to apply somewhere else rolled around I did consult with him about the possibility of moving and he said he would consider leaving the centre of the universe. But that is another story.

Why did I pull this story from the vault for you today dear reader? Well it seems that I am going to step off the path for a while. I have made a decision to go home to my family for a while because I need to be with them and they would like the assistance. Plans changes, paths fork and life changes in ways we never saw coming.

The best-laid schemes o' mice an 'men
Gang aft agley,
An'lea'e us nought but grief an' pain,
For promis'd joy!

**From the poem To A Mouse, On Turning Her Up In Her Nest With The Plough by Robert Burns.

The Single Girl

Blue Eyes

There is a joke/theory about how I choose the men I date, put me in a room with a group of men and I will inevitably choose or be drawn to the biggest asshole with blue eyes. Yesterday it was brought to my attention that this is not a new phenomenon but has been true since I started dating many moons ago.

Yesterday while on the plane to my second vacation destination I was stopped on my way out of the bathroom by a man with reddish blond hair and blue eyes in his early thirties. "Excuse me, did you grow up in the small town of _____, by any chance?" He asked. "Yes" I responded quizzically as I scanned his face for any recognizable features. "I thought that was you. I grew up there too my name is Mr. McAsshole (not his real name). I thought it was you in the airport but I wasn't sure, but when you just walked by I knew I had to ask. There is an empty seat beside me come and sit down, we can catch up."

Mr. McA was the first boy I ever kissed in high school. He was my neighbour, a jock, the black sheep of his family, a trouble maker in school and he had while blond hair and blue eyes. I was smitten. For a whole year we walked home from school together, had science, math and history together and I don't think he really knew I was alive.

At some point we ended up working on a project together for one of our classes. We were goofing off more than we were working and at some point, when we should have been working we were kissing. This happened a few more times over the course of the semester but nothing ever became of our innocent trysts. Within the year he and his family left town and I moved on to other boys with blue eyes.

As I sat on the plane with him, listening to him talk about his upcoming divorce, his adventures, his expensive suits, and his numerous sexual exploits I thought to myself what was I ever attracted to? This bravado is kinda sad. Then I started to think about some of the other blue eyed gems that have pasted though my life and he could have been almost anyone of them. They are all; smart, outgoing, have issues with authority, the life of the party, emotionally unavailable and above all else an Asshole.

What have I learned? Maybe nothing, or maybe the next time I am in a room with a group of men I will look for something a little deeper than blue eyes.

The Single Girl

How I Quit Smoking

One year six months and two days ago I quit smoking for what I hope is that last time. This is officially the longest I have ever quit (yeah me!) by about 10 days. Some days it is still a battle, but most days it is like I never smoked. How did I do it? Not the patch, or gum, or hypnosis, but the single girl way …

I was to be a bridesmaid in a wedding for the lovely SnH in the summer of 2005 and that meant traveling back toward the centre of the universe for a holiday. I hadn’t traveled home since I had moved so there were many, many people to see, places to go and cocktails to be had. It was being called the great wedding tour of 2005 as I was going to be attending a stag and doe, a bridal shower and stand in a wedding (yes for three different couples) all in the span of 10 days.

To back up a little, I had been thinking about quitting smoking for some time but knew that quitting before the wedding was foolish as many of my friends back at the centre of the universe still smoked, including SnH, her mother and all of the other bridesmaids. Trying to quit before a stressful and party filled time would be an absolute failure for me so instead I did what any reasonable person would do, I increased my nicotine intake in preparation for never having it again.

The great wedding tour of 2005 was fantastic. I was out all the time. I was doing lunch with one small group, early cocktails with one person, with another and then joining a party late in the evening and catching up over pints and pints of beer. This was the routine for week leading up to the wedding. As you can well imagine my liver (and my lungs) were primed for the main event. Eight straight days of partying had me prepared to be the best kind of bridesmaid ever, the slightly tipsy on the dance floor, but in control fun girl that every bride wants at her side. The two days leading up to the actual wedding we were running around town picking up last minute things, having dinners together, drinking wine and beer, smoking (about 1 ½ packs a day each) and laughing a lot – well SnH was a bit stressed, but the rest of us were definitely laughing.

The big day came and we spent the morning getting our hair done, putting on our make up and making our way to the mother of the brides house to don our dresses and have our photos taken by the photographer. From the time we woke up until the time we got the ceremony someone always had a cigarette on the go, on the way to the ceremony we had to stop at a gas station so that all the bridal party could pick up an extra pack of smokes – because heaven forbid we should run out at the country club.

The wedding ceremony was beautiful and the happy couple was hitched by late afternoon. Following the ceremony we had to do pictures for about an hour outdoors around the course, but all the champagne was being served indoors so we sent someone off to get cigarettes and some champagne to make sure the bridal party was properly lubricated and smoked up for the pictures. We smoked and drank and laughed and played for the photo session. Everyone had a ball (and about 4 glasses of champagne). Once pictures were done it was cocktail hour (read 3 more cocktails) and then some dinner.

I had been on holidays for over a week now and my pocket book was a little thin from the great wedding tour and all the auxiliary events so when I noticed that no one else at the head table was drinking the white wine on my table I thought to myself, I like white wine, summer is a great time to drink white, I could save a bit of cash by having the free white wine for a few hours ... white wine it is. Over the next few hours I drank the entire litre of wine. Some with dinner, some through speeches then after dinner while mingling before the dance floor got going.

At about midnight the best man bought everyone interested a shooter. Why not I thought, it is a lovely gesture and still drinking for free this is good. Then the groomsman I walked down the aisle with bought me a beer. Then I bought a beer, then he bought another beer and then I had a little more wine and we hit the dance floor for a few tunes. Then came what I would call the tipping point of the evening. Mr. Groomsman, his girlfriend and I headed back to the bar one more time and ordered a shoot, a shoot of banana and Jack. I had never had a banana and jack before and it was free and again I thought why not. As it was going down I knew I shouldn’t have drank it but by then it was much too late. One more beer and then we would get on the last bus back to the hotel.

Being the good bridesmaid that I was at the end of the evening I helped to round up the last of the folks for the bus, made sure I had all my stuff and that the bride was happy. Just as we were about the pull the bus away the bride yelled “Stop, we don’t have the flowers, I want the bouquets.” “ I’ll get those” I said and quickly hopped of the bus. It was at this moment that I new things were not well, my vision became blurry and I couldn’t walk very well but I got the flowers went back to the bus, put them on my lap and we were on our way.

The ride home was to be about a half hour and I thought maybe if I just close my eyes for a few minutes everything will be fine. I closed my eyes and the world started to spin and the bus started to bounce (very bad combination), so I did what every drunk person does, I closed one eye and held on to the seat in front of me for dear life. I just kept telling my stomach, half an hour that is all you have to do, hold on for half an hour and then we will be off the bus and everything will be fine. And you know what my stomach listened. For 30 minutes my stomach held on listening to my pleas. At minute 31 we were still on the bus and my stomach proclaimed times up! and I threw up all over the bus, then out the window and on the bouquets. Then I was sick in the hotel room.

It was mortifying. I had been such a good bridesmaid up until that point and then in one truly fowl swoop it was all gone, I was no longer a bridesmaid I was (and probably always will be) the girl that threw up on the bus. The next day I was toxic. I don’t know if I have even felt so sick. I couldn’t even think about smoking, I was hung over, with little to no sleep, my throat burned and the embarrassment was almost worse than the other three put together.

The hangover lasted about three days and my throat burned for about five so the first few days of withdrawal from smoking was beyond easy. After that my determination, the encouragement of my friends and the promise of this dinner if I stay quit gave me the extra will I needed to keep going. And now here I am smoke free for one year and six months and I guess I have SnH and Mr. Jack Daniels to thank for that.

Happy 1 ½ year wedding anniversary SnH and hubby!

Xo
The Single Girl

How I ended up here …

Rob from LIVE: in my living room writes (and I am paraphrasing); Ok, so most of your friends probably know this, but your periphery friends and blog followers may not: how did a small town girl who went to school in the big city end up - not just living, but living happily it would seem – away from the centre of the universe. I vote for that post ;-). It's like a "Choose your own blog-venture." I love it!

Ending up here was easy. I saw a great job for a company I liked that had a great reputation nationally, so I applied. One day after I emailed off my cv and cover letter my now boss emailed and offered me an interview. After the interview I thought, that went well I think I may have the job. And then I waited, and I waited, a whole month went by and I didn’t hear anything. Then one night while I was out playing bingo (first and last time) my cell phone rang and I was offered the job. Within four days I had completed the deal and I was preparing to move away from the centre of the universe.

I was very lucky when I decided to make the move because I already had some friends here (GB, CMG, Roomie and I had gone to school together back in the day). Actually when I found out I got the job I called Roomie to ask her if I could stay with her for a few weeks while I found my own place. She of course was more than happy to host me for however long it took me to find a home. Then two or three weeks later she called and said she and her boyfriend had broken up and would I consider living with her as she had an extra room and needed a roommate. “Of Course!” I said. Not only was she a great friend and a good roommate but deciding to live with her meant I wouldn’t have to find a place to live.

Being happy here was a much longer process. I have been here for now for just over two years and to be honest the first six months I wished for my old life back home. I spent hours on the phone with various friends and family keeping touch with them because I missed them and I wanted to make sure they didn’t forget me. I had moved but I hadn’t I was still clinging to what I knew and what I was comfortable with. I made some friends at work, hung with GB and CMG and met some of roomies friends. I went to parties, met people and tried to make a place for myself.

Changing cities as an adult is much different than when you go away to university. In university, everyone is new and looking to make new friends and have new experiences. When you are an adult people already have their friends, careers and lives so it can be slow to process integrating yourself.

Then one day it happened … I walked into one of my local bars (I currently have 3 locals if you were wondering), had some drinks with work friends and when it was time to leave I spent 10 minutes saying good bye to all the people I knew in the bar. That is when I started to realize this was my home, that it wasn’t just the place I lived. That began to make me happy. I also started doing different things. Living in a smaller city sometimes means there is less to do, but that has turned out to be a good thing as I do more instead of being apathetic and not doing anything at all.

Then I started branching out and meeting more people through my new found love of doing stuff. I took a lover (my first in a year) which boosted my self confidence, integrated myself into the workplace, quit smoking, started working out and just generally found a new place for me in the world.

It would be another year until I started the blog but in that year some adventures (should you choose to follow) included:

• My first kink night
• Dating and Dumping a speed addict
• The Speakeasy
• The tale of Fireboy
• My spontaneous trip to Orlando
• The whiniest boy ever
• The Karst
• The story that started the blog
  

And many other adventures …

All of the adventures I have had here have contributed to my happiness and I often wonder if I ever would have had any of them if I didn’t move away from my comfort zone. I still think about moving sometimes, but now instead of just thinking about moving back to the centre of the universe I often think about what other city I will live in next. I still spend hours and hours on the phone every week but now I don’t feel like I am missing out on everything, or that anyone will forget me tomorrow if I don’t call.

Thanks for the question Rob! I hope I have answered it to your satisfaction.

The Single Girl

The Dawson Creek Years

SnH complains that I don’t talk about her enough (read: at all on the site) and Stveryone else has a great nickname, why can’t she … well my friend I haven’t found the perfect nickname yet but this post is dedicated to you.

SnH and I met while living in residence in our first year of university. Her first memory of me is after arriving at a club the first week of school and one of the girls we were at the club with asked “what should we do” and my response was “I don’t know about you, but I’m gonna go get a beer.” That, she claims, was when she knew we should hang out. We had a lot in common; we were both small town girls who always wanted to live in the city, beer drinkers, smokers, a bit brash, and unwilling to put up with bullshit.

That first year we had a great routine Tuesday nights we (and our regular posse) went out to the pub for a few pints, Thursday nights we would get blind drunk and dance at the biggest dive on campus, Friday night we went to the clubs, or stayed in and experimented with “fun”things and Saturday night we took it easy going for one or two beers (read pitchers) or stayed in and watched movies. As parents always say … some of the pest years of our life … But this is not a story from our rez life, this is the story of how we tried to meet and ended up stalking Joshua Jackson.

It was the summer between second year and third year and I had come to the city for a visit. It was a hot day and SnH needed a break from her roommates, so she and I decided to have an afternoon pitcher of beer. It was a hot day in July and the beer was going down really smoothly so we ordered a second pitcher. I got up to go to the bathroom and I noticed two guys playing pool. Much to my shock one of the people playing was Joshua Jackson from Dawson’s Creek.

Dawson’s Creek had premiered that fall on the WB and SnH and I were obsessed with the show, I was a Dawson fan and she was a Pacey fan, so when I came back from the bathroom I could barely contain my excitement for her. I told her to go to the bathroom and check out the guys playing pool. She did and when she came back I thought she was going to jump out of her skin with glee.

For the duration of the second pitcher we tried to devised a plan to meet Mr. Jackson. We thought about trying to win the pool table, giving them the eye on the way to the washroom hoping he or his friend would take an interest in one of us or the most direct route - I would just walk up to him and tell him my friend likes him. We chickened out on all fronts but noticed as he left that he was headed for the hotel around the corner. With two pitchers of liquid courage flowing through our blood stream we paid our bill and headed towards the hotel.

Once at the hotel we called his room to let him know that we were on our way up to the bar on the top floor of the hotel. The operator connected us to his room and we proceeded to leave a message detailing our plan to have a drink at the hotel bar and we hoped we would see him there. Two fancy (and expensive) hotel cocktails later we were pretty sure he wasn’t going to show up so we decided we should leave and go to a local pub where they had some food (which we were in desperate need of) and cheaper drinks.

As we left the hotel we did think it was important to leave him one more message telling him that we were leaving and going to the local pub and should he get the message he really should join us because we are a lot of fun and this specific pub was a great place to go while you are in the city. I can’t remember if we had any more to drink that evening or if we ended up going home and passing out cold

For about two years after that incident I kept thinking I would hear Joshua Jaskson retell this story as the last time he checked into a hotel under his own name while on Leno or Letterman. I don’t think that ever happened, but I am pretty sure that he started checking into hotels under a pseudonym right after that stay.

The Single Girl

15 Year Old Girl

I consider the summer before I turned 16 to be one of the most pivotal times in my life. I was finished my second year of high school and had a settled into a group of friends that I really clicked with ( including my best friend “Spike”) and my first really boyfriend “K”. I spent the summer with Spike and K and K’s best friend J (yes the same J that worries about me.) Spike was 15 the same as me and J and K were both 19.

K was a farm boy (no this is not the beginning of The Princess Bride), a good man with dark hair, blue eyes. A hard worker and sweet guy who was at times a bit goofy, but mostly I liked that. And J he was trouble, he had a mischievous smile and a twinkle in his eyes that told you, stick with me and you will have a good time. Together they were quite a team.

Spike was a force of nature, self assured and straight forward she carried herself with a poise and determination that was unknown to me at fifteen. She was sprite like, a petite girl with big brown eyes and a button nose; she had boys eating out of her hands most places she went. She was in charge of her life and I was glad I got to be there for the party.

The four of us had great times that summer, playing on the beach, drinking beer and hoping we didn’t get caught when we got home (or at least Spike and I did), driving around listening to music in J’s great car or K’s pick up, making out right up until the minute of my curfew, running the bases at a ball diamond at midnight because we thought it was funny … you know all the things you do when you are on the cusp of becoming an adult.

I can’t tell all the stories from the summer it would just take too long, and really it would probably be boring to everyone but me, but I think this one is worthy of a retelling.

My parents were away for a few days towards the end of June with my little brother and I was sent off to Spike’s house in the country as I was too young to stay home alone. There was a high school dance on the Friday – the last one of the year – and Spike and I convinced her dad to drop us off on my front porch, instead of at the dance, as we were going to meet up with friends and my porch was a good central location.

All the doors to the house had been locked when my parents left and I wasn’t given a key, so the day before I was sent off to Spike’s house I went into the basement and cracked open one of the basement windows just wide enough to get one finger in. Once Spike’s dad drove off we made our way to the back of the house, opened the window the rest of the way and made our way in through the basement to through a pre party for the dance. We opened the liquor cabinet (not that dangerous as my parents are beer drinkers and never know how much liquor they have) and poured drinks for ourselves to celebrate our victorious B&E.

It didn’t take long for people to show up, drinks in hand to have a few cocktails to celebrate the end of another school year. There were about 25 people in total standing around listening to music drinking Bacardi breezers and other terrible concoctions stolen from their parents, or bought by older brothers and sisters. After an hour or so we all decided to make our way to the dance. Spike and I got everyone out of the house, put back the less full vodka and rum bottles, locked all the doors, closed the basement window – I would hate to think there could have been intruders –and went off to the dance.

It was thrilling to be “bad” as we did it so rarely. It was also fun to know that we had committed “the perfect crime.” Neither set of parents knew our deception, we left no evidence and we managed to get a little drunk all of which gave us both a thrill. The dance was great. J, Spike and I danced to Brown Eyed Girl, K and I slow danced for the very first time and at the end of the night Spike and I replayed our whole night as we drifted off to sleep.

My parents never found out (Hi Lady!) but I know that by the time we hit university Spike and I confessed our sins– as we always did – with little to no consequences. Just a laugh and a roll of the eyes was all we usually got, especially when we confessed two or three years after the fact.

It is a very innocent beginning to Keeping the Dream Alive but we all have to start somewhere.

Forever 15,

The Single Girl

The Source of the Vodka

A few months ago a friend of Roomie’s needed a place to stay for a few weeks while he looked for a new apartment. Roomie was going to be out of town and offered up the spare room we had. The man accepted the lovely offer from roomie and moved into the house.

About 4 days into our acquaintance and his stay at the house we were at home on a regular Wednesday night and both felt like having a cocktail but there was nothing worth having in the house. So off he went to the store to get something. Now I assumed he would come back with a bottle of wine or 6 beer as it was a week night, but no he came back with a 26er of Vodka and we proceeded to drink the whole thing in a little more than 2 hours and in that time exchanged the coles notes version of our life stories.

That evening I talked to my mom and she said that my hangover must be the influence of the bad man living in my house as on my own I would never do anything like that. The next day she sent the man the following letter …

Notice To Terminate Tenancey

To: Mr. Vodkasource

And all others occupying the first bedroom on the second floor at (my house but the address is not for public consumption).

You are hereby notified that your tenancy of the premises is terminated on September 30, 2006. and on that day you will be require to surrender possession of the premises to the Landlord. (As well as any alcohol residing in the premises.)

Judicial proceedings (of a martriacal nature) may be instituted for your eviction if you do not surrender possession of these premises as well as all negative influences on fellow tenants on or before the date set forth above.

It is illegal for a tenant to unreasonably withhold consent for the landlord to enter into the dwelling unit in order to:
* inspect the premises
* make necessary or agreed repairs, alterations or improvements
* provide alcohol to a consenting adult
* act as a poor example to junior tenants
* consume alcohol or other intoxicants in excess



And that is how he became known at Vodkasource.

Not that any of this matters, as he still hasn’t called and I am still too embarrassed to talk to him if he did. But I promised I would explain where the name came from so there you are.

TSG