1. What did you do in 2011 that you’d never done before?

Enjoyed the summer- no waiting tables, no slinging drinks. Just cottages and drinking beers on patios.

2. Did you keep your new year’s resolutions, and will you make more for next year?

I usually don’t make resolutions. I don’t need something else to feel badly about when I neglect to keep up my end of the bargain.

3. Did anyone close to you give birth?

Yes. Babies are weird. And tiny.

4. Did anyone close to you die?

No

5. What countries did you visit?

I didn’t even leave Nova Scotia. But I’m going to New Brunswick tomorrow, so it’s not a total wash. New Brunswick is like a foreign country…..

6. What would you like to have in 2012 that you lacked in 2011?

Cash moneys

7. What date from 2011 will remain etched upon your memory, and why?

There are a few and there are reasons. None of which I will get in to.

8. What was your biggest achievement of the year?

Getting my first full time permanent big kid job. It’s been a long time coming. Oh and completing the Moksha 30 day challenge. That was pretty great.

9. What was your biggest failure?

No failures, just lessons

10. Did you suffer illness or injury?

Nope

11. What was the best thing you bought?

A car!

12. Whose behaviour merited celebration?

People with the courage and conviction to own who they are. Fly your flag.

13. Whose behaviour made you appalled and depressed?

There were one or two, a lady never tells.

14. Where did most of your money go?

The usual: booze

15. What did you get really, really, really excited about?

New job! Cottages on the weekend in the summer! Arcade Fire concert!

16. What song will always remind you of 2011?

Bonnie Tyler- It’s a Heartache also, LMFAO- Sexy and I know it

17. Compared to this time last year, are you:i. happier or sadder? . ii. thinner or fatter? .iii. richer or poorer?

Neither happier nor sadder, thinner and poorer.

18. What do you wish you’d done more of?

Living in the moment

19. What do you wish you’d done less of?

Worrying

20. How will you be spending Christmas?

Went home, ate some food, drank some wine, the usual.

As always, question 21 is missing for some unknown reason.

22. Did you fall in love in 2011?

Nope

23. How many one-night stands?

Again, a lady never tells…

24. What was your favorite TV program?

Community

25. Do you hate anyone now that you didn’t hate this time last year?

Why yes I do as a matter of fact

26. What was the best book you read?

Elixir- Hilary Duff. No really. YA is the shit. I’m not ashamed to admit it.

27. What was your greatest musical discovery?

Black Keys (yeah, I know I’m tardy to the party)

28. What did you want and get?

A job!

29. What did you want and not get?

My student loans to magically disappear

30. What was your favorite film of this year?

The Skin I Live In

31. What did you do on your birthday, and how old were you?

Dinner at Fid and a night at the Lord Nelson. I turned 26, bitches.

32.What one thing would have made your year immeasurably more satisfying?

A shit ton more money

33. How would you describe your personal fashion concept in 2007?

Confused office worker wannabe rockstar

34. What kept you sane?

My vices, yoga

35. Which celebrity/public figure did you fancy the most?

The Ryans. Gosling and Reynolds that is.

36. What political issue stirred you the most?

Mayor McDouche’s handling of the Occupy stuff..

37. Who did you miss?

Friends both near and far

38. Who was the best new person you met?

All of my co-workers have been pretty rad

39. Tell us a valuable life lesson you learned in 2011:

Trust your gut and ask questions

40. Quote a song lyric that sums up your year:

I used to write
I used to write letters
I used to sign my name

We Used to Wait- Arcade Fire

I’ve had this conversation, or some form of it, dozens of times over the years with my friends (both male and female).

With my female friends, the conversation usually comes after some kind of dust-up wherein a guy does something douchy. With my male friends, it usually comes after they’re been on the receiving end of lady wrath.

Last night over a few glasses of wine, the topic of gender roles, equality and behaviour in general came up. The crux? Chivalry might be dead, but the ladies are the ones who killed it.

The comment was made that a man would never come up to a woman and say something like “I think you’re beautiful and a wonderful person” because more than likely, the recipient of that compliment would get all up in arms over that. There are two things at play here- first of all, in addition to being allowed to drive cars and vote and stuff, women also have the right to choose who they talk to, hang out with and even date. But with that can also come a sense of entitlement. I challenge you to find a girl who has never been an outright bitch to some poor sucker who finally gathered the courage to talk to her, (whether at the bar on a Friday night or during the daylight hours). But because she deemed him creepy, or ugly or undesirable in some way, he learned that compliments = social humiliation. (Likewise, I challenge you to find a girl who hasn’t been rejected after putting herself out there in some way.)

So now, through learned behaviour, said guy will likely not ever risk that kind of humiliation ever again by being honest with a girl.

By progressing to a point where men and women are (on paper) completely equal, chivalry has become a casualty.

I’m of course making some sweeping generalizations here. But the point is, chivalry can’t really exist in our society anymore. Instead, we can make a case for good manners and decency; there is certainly a lot to be said for being polite. It’s very nice to have a door held open for you, or to take advantage of the ladies first sentiment, or have somebody pick up the tab for drinks- but we’ve also progressed to a point that that’s about as good as it gets.

Part of chivalry is on the shoulders of the recipient. It’s hard for a man to be chivalrous if a woman isn’t going to accept the gesture.

This isn’t to say that women should just roll over and take it for the sake of a dead set of traditions. Rather, it’s more of a case of not being able to have cake and eat it too. And learning to be ok with that.

Much has changed in my life since my previous declaration to get over the year long pity party and get to blogging again.

To say life was turned upside down over the summer would be a mild statement. To say the pity party ended would be a lie. But what is true is that I am sorting things out; gaining new perspectives and taking things a day at a time.

The was the first year I actually had a summer. The first year I didn’t spend one minute of the summer slinging drinks and food since I was 16. It was amazing. I went to cottages, the beach, enjoyed sunny days and dudes, I EVEN GOT A TAN.

There has been a lot of stuff that’s gone down in the past six months or so. Some of it good (new job!), some of it bad (learning the truth sucks sometimes), and some of it uncertain (my decision to stay in Halishizzle). It’s safe to say I will likely look back at this year as one of those “character building” experiences.

Aside from that, I continue to struggle with the idea of this outlet. I have noticed that when things are not going well I turn away from writing rather than turn to it. I take the fact that I have felt like writing again lately as a positive sign. The struggle, as always, comes from the narcissistic element that inherently comes from writing about stuff that happens in my life rather than a fixed topic like cooking or kitties. This is really more of an internal thing for sure. But nobody wants to come across of self absorbed, or worse yet, be accused of it.

But, ultimately, I can only take this like everything else, one step at a time.

Holler.

It’s been almost a month since the last post where I attempted to explain my posting/non-posting relationship with the ol’ blog. We’re still working things out, have faith.

Also mentioned in the last post was the fact that I am now a year older.

It shouldn’t be terribly surprising to those who spend time with me that turning 25 was kind of a mind-trip. The subsequent 365 days were spent in a kind of thinly veiled pity party over my old age. I was convinced my life was pretty much over, that my love of tea, cats and quilts was setting me up for a life of orthopedic shoes and early bed times.

Straight up, I had a full on quarter life crisis, for the entire duration of being quarter- aged..

But then. THEN. One day, the ever wise man friend called me out on it. Confronted by my own BS I had no choice but to realize he was right, and to sit back and take stock of some things.

Truly, I don’t feel like my life is over. I’m in the best shape of life right now, I have a job, a car, a nice apartment, good friends and I manage to somehow ensure I am fed, clothed and somewhat bathed on a daily basis. Maybe I was being a touch over-dramatic? Maybe the saying “you’re only as old as you feel” was true?

Basically, I needed to buck up, get over myself and start living again.

So here I am.

In the past few weeks I’ve been doing some things I never thought I would do. I’ve also tried to get back on board with the 30 things challenge I was so half-assed committed to in the first place.

This, as you may recall for me, is more about saying yes when I would normally say no.

A sample of the things I have done:

- attend a yoga class at somebody’s home as part of a neat initiative, led by a classmate from last year

- attend Critical Mass on a tandem bike! (This is BIG! I don’t do bikes. Like, at all. Thanks to a gnarly bike accident and some hilarious-in-retrospect other events involving me and bicycles)

- Bake my own bread- this one is in progress as we speak. Well, by in progress I mean there is a big uncooked dough-blob rising away in my fridge as we speak. I’ve been less than successful with the bread machine lately, so I’m going to try to go old school and make my own. Stay tuned.

And…. this is the biggest of them all….. I booked a consultation for a tattoo! This is something I have been contemplating for a really long time but have always come up with a million and one excuses to not go through with. So I’m going to at least dip my little toe into the waters and see what it’s all about.

There it is folks.

Anyway, lots of big changes in the past month, for reals.

For starters- I have a new job. It’s with an awesome up and coming advertising agency. I’m learning tons and getting to do all kinds of cool things. I miss my old work peeps, but it was time for a change. No more evil dragon lady boss. Hurray!

Next up: I am now a car owner! Now, don’t get too excited…. New to me is Estelle. She’s a little 4 door Suzuki number. She’s got some character marks (read dents and scratches) but she’s mine. Sweet freedom! It hasn’t even really sunk in yet all the potential adventures that I can now embark upon… the beach, Frenchy’s runs, ROAD TRIPS!

She needs a radio, but in the meantime I am building a pretty sweet cassette tape collection in anticipation.

In other news, I had a birthday. It wasn’t really one of those milestone years, but this was certainly the first year I wasn’t really into celebrating my birthday. I just didn’t really want it to happen for some reason. Does that mean I am officially old now? Who knows…

It was interesting though (and no to go all passive aggressive notes on y’all…) to see who wished me a happy birthday and who didn’t thanks to that oh so amazing social networking site, Facebook.

You know what it’s like. The clock strikes midnight on your birthday and suddenly you have 24 notifications of people writing on your wall wishing you happy birthday who you would normally never speak to in the run of an average day. Don’t get me wrong, who doesn’t want some birthday love and attention? It’s kind of sad that we don’t call or even text each other any more on birthdays and stuff( For the record, I’m definitely guilty of it. I hate picking up the phone!)

Why is wishing people a happy birthday so meaningful? We all have birthdays, and they happen once a year. Shouldn’t it be assumed that, if you were wished well last year, that the same feeling would be true for this year? Yet somehow, I guess it’s still nice to hear it. Or, read it in this case?

Either way, the birthday celebrations were low key this year – a nice dinner out with the man friend, followed by a night in a hotel and then a trip home to see the folks the following day.

Finally, can I get a heck yes for spring?! Light at 7:30pm? Temperatures above zero? That subtle change in the way the air smells? Hey winter, get bent!

Have been for 10 or so years now.

Rather than track marks or makeshift crack pipes hidden away, you will find non-slip sensible shoes and a wide variety of black pants and aprons tucked into the dark recesses of my apartment.

My name is Mel and I’m a recovering server.

It started innocently enough. Just something to do in the summers to make a bit of money. Those heady days of walking home with $40 at the end of a shift, covered in ice-cream and reeking of fish and chips- I thought I had it made.

Little did I know this was my gateway drug.

The summer I turned 19 I got a taste of the hard stuff and it was good. Suddenly I was working at the place everybody wanted to be. Where they went to see and be seen. We had a chef, not a cook and it was all washed down with that magical elixir- alcohol. Walking home nearly every day with a tidy triple digit sum in my pocket felt pretty good. Oh sure, I can stop. And I did. Went back to school. Went out with friends on the weekends. Did my homework. Got plenty of rest.

Then it all changed the summer I moved back to Halifax. After briefly dabbling again for a time, I got hooked. Hard.

250 seat waterfront restaurant? A strong American dollar? Low gas prices? There was a never-ending flow of cash.

Once winter hit, there wasn’t enough to keep me going. I delved deeper. I became a bartender.

Bass thumping, shaking cocktails, I lacked sleep but was on a first name basis with my contemporaries at other establishments. I worked at the hottest venue in town for a time. I lived to see the sun rise before crashing into bed.

Suddenly serving was taking over my life. I used to be so studious. I used to go to bed at a reasonable hour. Not anymore.

Sunny days, concerts, outings with friends, none of it mattered anymore. All that mattered was work and making those fat dollars.

Eventually, I went away for three months. Went to see the world. Hung up the apron. Who was I fooling? We ended up sitting after hours with bartenders in every city we visited. Even across the ocean it was impossible to kick the habit.

When I got home I sank back into it. But my heart wasn’t there. I was getting tired, cranky, bitter and jaded.

I applied to school and got in. I put in my notice. Kicked the habit. Or so I thought.

I lasted 2 weeks before going back to my old job. But just on the weekends. And only one night. Just a quick little shift for some extra cash. No big deal. 1 shift turned into 2 a week and suddenly I was slipping back into old ways again.

Then it was back to full time. Only this time,  my shoes had holes in them, my wrists and joints creaked at every movement and late nights were a hassle more than anything exciting. The lifestyle was taking its toll. I knew in my heart and soul that I needed to stop. To make a change, a clean break.  Opportunity came and I left- abruptly and without ceremony.

But I slipped. Went back for the fix. But then the work dried up and I knew it was over for good.

Or so I thought….

I’m back to dabbling. My arms sticky from wrist to elbow with liqueurs and ketchup, my feet tired and back aching. I can feel myself slipping, but it’s just so damn easy…..

I was born with a weirdo magnet.

What’s this you say?

Allow me to elaborte.

For some reason, life’s more colourful characters are drawn to me like a moth to the flame.  Put me in a crowd of 500 people and the lone weirdo will find me. They will seek me out. They will engage in conversation with me.

Don’t believe me? Ask those who tend to spend a lot of time with me. They’ll confirm this.

Like the time the man friend and I were on a #1 bus so crowded that we stopped picking new people up. Miraculously a seat opened up right in front of me. I sat down and ended up sitting next to a lady who was looking for my advice on whether or not she should break up with her boyfriend based on the fact that she found another woman’s umbrella sitting on the back of her boyfriend’s toilet.

I can’t make this shit up.

It certainly makes for some interesting stories and strange encounters.

So it really should not have come as much surprise when this morning, I was awoken at 7:45am by somebody frantically pounding on my door and screaming.

Let me first take a step back.

I have, for quite some time, had my suspicions that I lived in close proximity to a deeply covert women’s shelter of some sort.  That in itself is totally cool, I can honestly think of worse people to share a neighbourhood with. I live in the downtown area of a busy city and I mind my own business, so really, who lives near me doesn’t really matter a whole lot.

So back to this morning. I stumble out of bed, grab a sweater and open the door. There is a young girl pacing in my hallway, crying and looking incredibly strung out and disheveled. She asks to use my phone and I say yes.

Her story starts to come out through tears and through her phone conversation. She has escaped an abusive relationship, but spent the night in the hospital and has been thrown out of the shelter she was staying at. She has no money, no home, nowhere to go and an abusive boyfriend who will hurt her if he finds her.

Finally, not knowing what else to do I invited her into my apartment. I help her phone some shelters and one agrees to take her in. She asks me if I can take her there and she tells me that she’s really scared. I agree to walk her to the shelter. She asks me for money. I have none. I offer her an apple instead.

I throw on a pair of jeans and my coat and off we go. She hugs me. I help her carry her belongings which consist of what she can fit in her backpack and some assorted contents in a tattered garbage bag. The garbage bag rips further on our walk and I set it down on the muddy sidewalk in an attempt to readjust. We both pick it up and get covered in mud. She is wearing slippers and hospital pants.

A Narcotics Anonymous book falls out of the garbage bag and onto the sidewalk. I pick it up for her and keep walking. She tells me that I’m going to make a good wife for somebody someday. She wants to know if she can come by if she needs somebody to talk to. I tell her I’m not sure how helpful I would be.

We get to the shelter. I ring the buzzer. She disappears inside. I wish her good luck.

I walk home in the early morning sun. It’s warm for March and the city is the kind of quiet that comes with early Sunday mornings.

I sure hope that girl gets the help she needs.

At any rate, I’ve been working hard to say yes more often instead of no to things that drag my sorry ass out of my apartment and into the world.

I haven’t really done anything epic or noteworthy enough to ramble on about for an entire blog post. What I do want to talk about is a different type of goal.

The Life Goal.

My Life Goals aren’t so much like “Be the CEO of a company” or “have children”. They’re more along the lines of “join the Century club” or “learn how to surf”.

I think Life Goals should be more experiential and slightly ridiculous. If you want to be the CEO of a company, that’s more of a legit professional goal to set, assuming you are the type of person to set such things. (I am not. We’ve been over this.)

I can however commit to setting some Life Goals.

And I’m going to share them here. Because I can. So there.

Please feel free to chime in and share yours. Maybe we have similar Life Goals? Perhaps we can collaborate?

-         Learn how to surf

-         Join the century club (100 shots of beer in 100 minutes)

-         Sing on stage with a band

-         Have a lemon tree in my backyard (this includes living in a climate that is warm enough to warrant this)

-         Visit every continent

-         Dip my toes in all 4 of the major oceans

-         Get a tattoo

-         Visit every province and territory in Canada

-         Visit all 50 states

-         Complete a 30 day yoga challenge

-         Learn how to make wine (and not the shit you can buy for $20 in a kit)

Some Life Goals I have completed:

-         See Radiohead in concert

-         Go to California

-         Drive the Pacific Coast Highway

-         Drink a beer under the Eiffel Tower

-         Learn how to ski

-         Get a piercing

-         Dye my hair a radical colour

Big changes rumbling in these parts. Rather than going on a rant, or something along those lines, I’m going to share some of my favourite blogs/ pages of late.

I’ve had some free time on my hands lately and as a result, I have lots of time to search out cool stuff on the interwebs.

I’d like this to be a regular feature, but let’s face it, the only thing I can commit to doing regularly is eating bacon.

First up: Melrose and Fairfax . This is a totally rad blog that chronicles LA graffiti/ street art. If you’ve been following the news from LA at all, Banksy’s work has been appearing all over town in the lead up to the Oscars on Sunday night where Banksy’s film Exit Through the Giftshop is up for a tiny golden man statue.

Longform.org is pretty much the coolest thing ever. It’s a finely curated selection of long-form articles from various outlets all in one place! I’ve read articles about Price is Right contestants, teenage drug lords, spies, a Harem girl, how elephants are experiencing a collapse in their society, a children’s performer with a gambling problem, the list goes on.

Things Organized Neatly deeply appeals to my deeply buried sense of OCD.

I dig this chick’s style, or steeze if you will, as it is more a blend of style and aesthetics.

I mostly just read Sometimes Sweet for her weekly “Tattoo Tuesday” feature so I can live vicariously through ladies with rad tattoos. But she is a cool young mom as well as being a chick with nice tattoos.

And finally, I’ve been lusting after nice apartments lately. My current digs are we’ll say… “shabby chic”. The place is literally starting to fall down around me, but I hate moving. It’s small and I need to downsize my furniture a bit, but I’m lazy and broke… so I’ve been looking at spaces that are pretty instead. One day, I will live in an apartment that is worthy of these lovely sites…. Decor8 and Apartment Therapy .

Ta da!

This morning we had a “nonversation”* about the idea of branding at the office.

*a conversation denotes two-way communications… a nonversation is my term for a one sided dialogue disguised as a conversation.

We listened to an episode of “The Age of Persuasion” which was actually quite entertaining and interesting. I guess what I’m struggling with and feel the need to discuss is how communications truly fits in with the idea of branding and the larger discipline of marketing.

I consider myself to be a communicator by profession.

I am a writer. I convey stories and messages and things through the written word primarily.

But I work in the field of “public relations” or “communications and marketing” which obviously, means that marketing, or at least understanding what marketing is and is all about, is part of my job.

I’d like to think that I am fairly conscious of the idea of “branding” and what that entails.

Here’s where I seem to be having trouble.

To me (and my youthful naivety) communications involves “communicating” what actually is happening. But branding, and thus marketing, is all about communicating what we think should be happening. If the goal is to stick to the brand, then doesn’t that mean editing what we do and do not communicate? And if so, how can this be considered communications?

Sure, it’s a form of communications, but it’s not being completely honest and open. We’re constructing a narrative to sell a product or service.

Thus, fundamentally at least, there are some tensions between the disciplines of communications and marketing.

Can clear, honest and open communication therefore become a cornerstone of a brand? The communicator in me pipes up that it should be, but the cynic in me says probably not.