More thinking, more to sort after this long winter.
It wasn't that bad this year however it gave me time to sort out what the Hell happened to me. The feeling is mutual in relation to someone being held captive for a long period of time and freedom is felt for the first time.
It's there, you suspect it and the memories of being held prisoner is not forgotten.
Call it a syndrome, I know it has been long since what happened. Not just the whole open relationship thing (it does play a part) but more the whole "I fell apart and nearly destroyed myself" part. I can't shake it off and it haunts me. It's going to take some time but it's there.
We all moved on but I can't seem to stop punishing myself.
I got into this mess more vulnerable than I've ever been in my life. The last known event of vulnerable with a side of self destruction was when I finished CEGEP and didn't get into a program at University. I figure I would go with the flow however I seem to be the type that needs structure and a schedule. I fell in love with an actor wannabe who would telemarket and smoke pot.
Great choice in guys.
He kind of dumped me for someone who wasn't boring: a hitchhiker/stripper who I found out not so long ago, kind of psycho.
I hit a low point and nearly hurt myself bad, for the next few months I drank heavily, scared my friends, tried to bash my skull in and nearly got raped.
Yes, I'm one of those, the kind who may self destruct if nothing falls into place. What fell into place was an application to a photo program that I placed in my sister's hand one day before the deadline. I had photos I took over the last two years and time before work to write one hell of a letter of intent.
Photography was and still is my saving grace and now I need something like that again. Before it was a hobby but now it's a career.
Cut to now where I fell down, my perspective went under when my ex found himself another girlfriend (still with her, probably because she has a better line of credit). Then someone in my circle started getting more photo jobs, when you find out that my job saved my ass 9 years ago you kind of figure out why I get pissed when I lose jobs to that guy. The battle between talent and networking rages on.
Then I went to that place, that dark and uncertain place where your perspective changes, it grows darker and you tend to trust anyone or any idea that can make you happy again.
So yes, the open relationship was a good idea (through clouded judgement).
I'm not really mad at the couple (or couples now) but mad at myself. I've become that type of girl. The one no one remembers, the one left behind while everyone lives happily ever after. The trash you take out, the drinking the night before that you don't quite recall. I don't want to be left behind or forgotten, no one knows how to end these properly.
I learned the hard way that I'm not that type of girl and shouldn't have vocalized it.
He brought the new one to the bar that night, I only knew of her as he met her which meant I was off the hook (not in the relationship but not part of the strings attached in the "other relationship). Just sex and hockey games for me.
I was insulted that he brought her, I don't hang out with the 'others'. I never meshed with the girlfriend, what gives guys ideas that girls that they are fooling around with would become the best of buddies. We are women: catty, jealous and capable of destroying self esteem.
My jealousy was of not wanting the guy but more that there will be no room for me. I knew she would be for keeps, the other relationship was on it's last breath (if it weren't for the open relationship they would have broken up months before). She was in, I was out.
Yes, in this you stay friends with the ex
you start committing to this new being
but what happens to me?
Left out.
I became THAT girl, she's cool and casual, this wouldn't bother her. It did and I made it evident. I didn't want to be responsible in destroying a couple but instead I destroyed myself. No guy is interested in someone who was leftovers, she smells of open relationship. To not factor at all.
It gets me thinking if I factor at all, do I have any impact in anyone's life. I question that a lot.
I learned recently that when you reach 29 this is when you ask the hardest of all questions: what is my place? Do I have a real identity? Am I a good person? I've reached that point where I can say this: I'm a good person who does stupid things.
I don't want to say that the situation itself was stupid, mainly the way I treated myself was. I was drinking badly, falling for my own worst enemy of loser guys with even bigger insecurities and drinking habits. Smoking (again and again), being offensive. Worst of all, I majorly did some damage to my wrist, now how am I going to work as a photographer?
Actually, can I still work as a photographer?
For the first time, my saving grace wasn't able to be there. I got scared, what am I going to do. Am I going to be THAT girl: generic and nothing special.
We all know that being generic is something I'm not, quirky stories and all. I'm not the one who likes to let people down but in the last few months I have. I'm let myself down and now I'm playing one Hell of a catch up game. Sure, the first encounter in a while was me filled with anger but I really can't be "la dee da" about what happened. I made a mess and I feel like I'm still paying for it.
I feel like sometimes guys have this ideal that girls are not supposed to fall apart or have "issues" if there are it has to be solved in two sentences. I realised that dealing with me hasn't been a cakewalk but that's what I'm facing right now. That we know (and I know) that I'm not meant to be THAT girl.
But I don't want to be left out too. That usually happens after dealing with drunk and destructive, you tend to make a lot of mends. That's why I needed the time off.
One of these days I could meet the new girl (not so new anymore) and not be mean to the ex. The fact that I've admit it is one step, however I still have lingering memories where I was held at my own will (mentally).
Time heals sh**ty wrists, let alone a shattered heart and a lack of ego.
Wednesday, March 18, 2009
Tuesday, March 17, 2009
A Long and Hard Look
I've had a full last few hours, mainly as a person and as photographer. We’re back to this. I know that this is becoming an ongoing theme however until this is resolved, this will be the topic in question to whoever listens, reads or understands. We can relate to being in a place in our lives where we think we should be at but we’re not.
The fact that I think its time to face the fact, I'm not at a place in my life where I should be.
Should is the word I tend to focus on:
I should be freelancing more
I should be writing more (less about me, more to an audience)
I should be more career, there is a place for creativity, less casual about
I should stop being lost and confused
I shouldn't go down.
I'm down, trying to get up. I've done this before, one too many times. I don't know if I have that feeling of achievement when it's been scripted. I know this play by heart.
Then why the Hell am I not performing this to the audience.
The last few weeks I stepped away from the spotlight, went out of the radar. I hid from the confines of my social life and thought about what my game plan should be. I've been stalling, I've been afraid...afraid that this could either go two ways: bad or good.
My feedback has always been good, she's got talent, she's got poise. However...
However there is this shadow, this darkness that has a hard time believing that there is good, there is hope. That this is too good to be true. And then, it goes away. The goodness is there, I wish I can believe it can be a permanent resident in my heart after years of revolving in and out of my life.
This past weekend I was in Toronto, I was covering Canadian Music Week, the perks of being a photographer with ideas, they actually take you places. I ended up taking pictures of bands in amazing venues in downtown Toronto. I've been focused on being a better photographer these last few weeks and it shows. I see what I'm about to shoot, I'm aware of my surroundings. I think I'm back at the level I was a couple years before I sort of lost interest.
Glad that it's there. Now if only I can do that in my personal work.
I was staying at a friend’s; he's actually a friend of my ex's (the one who took off with my money). He is normally an in your face, to the point, right wing, ADD driven asshole who pushes my buttons and well, I need someone to push my buttons to get the work done.
He unfortunately has fallen on hard times and like the economic crisis, is in need of a bailout. More for his mental well being than his wallet. Hasn't worked in months, living in a filthy bachelors and popping pills to sustain another day of numbed living. He has good days, I encountered the bad when you combined alcohol with self loathing and revealing a suicide attempt gone wrong. This was hardcore, this was real. This is something I am familiar with.
Suicide not so much, the fact that this being the true last resort means that I’ve not hit rock bottom. But the fact that I think it does cross some minds now and then. The fact that I know the role of the self-loather looking for answers, looking for a way out of these situations. I know this role and I know it’s hard to deal with this type of person but let’s face it; there are a lot of us out there. We’re living in not so ideal situations. In the last 18 months I’ve lost friends to other cities because of the job situations, I’ve seen friends struggle in search for work, relationships I’ve question and worst of all, the need of addiction in the form of alcohol and meaningless lust (or relationships consisted of nothing because of a fear of not having someone in the room).
That’s a lot going on in my head, hence the stuck feeling.
My friend is ok as it can get, I know he’ll get out of it. I hope he’ll get out of it. These are trying times, it’s hard to be creative when all there is is real, if you try to escape it feels like you’re neglecting the hard truth at hand, to face them head on.
I really hope he’ll make it out ok, I just don’t know when.
Hope, that word again. I hope for a lot of things:
To be happy without guilt
To take pictures without either intimidation or sheer frustration
To know that my friendships have no strings attached or limitations
To believe that there is such thing as stability
To know that when someone falls down, they can get up
Here’s the big one, to know that there is no such thing as running out of ideas.
I know this guy who tours from city to city, telling strange exploits from his eclectic life. I met him starting out freelancing and he gave me advice about the idea of making some money in the process. We found out we share a common connection of self-awareness in our storytelling. Curiously is what we craved, the sense of exploration in what is out there got me to explore some things about myself I didn’t know existed:
Such as true confidence.
I found my confidence form someone who only sees me 10 days out of the year. He sees it in my words, my images and in my doodles. I believed in that, I believed for the first time that this could be done, creativity as a job, because he’s doing it.
Then came last year, this was me out of it. My world crashed and I was self destructive, being the 2nd rate/3rd string in the “open relationship” and not doing great photo wise. He returned with a show where he struggled, he had a hard time writing it. He was having a tough tour.
This was not supposed to happen, he was my rock. He was the hope I needed and here he was, struggling. This was the first time I saw that no matter how creative you can be, you could run out of ideas. The jig was up, we’re doomed. I lost more confidence and drank some more. I didn’t want to admit it but even heroes can be mortals too.
He’s back on track doing other forms of performance however I won’t be seeing him in town. That’s the sad part; I’ll miss the insights and the strong hugs where it felt like he’s protecting me from the harsh world. I feel betrayed but do believe that there is only a small ray of hope that creativity will be back on track.
That word again. Will you stop giving me expectations?
Which brings me to today. I did take pics of bands all weekend, but when I got back I got a call to cover the anti brutality riots (it started as a demonstration however when I got there it gotten out of hand). At the same time I gotten out of hiding and decided to see the guy (formally known as jerkface) for the first time in months. I needed to figure things out; he didn’t want to deal with what I went through in Toronto with my friend (me playing the role of the self loather).
I knew that the clash between police and demonstrators would result in the destruction of property and udder chaos:
And I chose to be in the heart of the action.
At first I was pissed that we lost the photographer and I got back into town 20 minutes before. I was more pissed that jerkface bailed out on me for the 64th time (now here’s someone who knows more about bailouts). And with an angry, tired photographer stuck on a city bus while cop cars bombard the streets in search of an angry mob there were two things I could do: wait and fume on the bus or get out and find the mob. Helicopters swirled the city, crowds and cop cars going into a direction that would lead me to jackpot. I ran and ran until I found the show down between riot cops and crazy mobs. I ducked rocks, debris and anarchy. I was getting a high from risking my neck for photos. By the end of the day, it was this feeling of satisfaction knowing that I had the balls to sustain something I would have avoided. This rush of confidence of doing this without doing anything stupid. It wasn’t that hard.
What was hard today was looking at myself in front of jerkface, sitting down and talking with him for the first time and dealing with the problem at hand. If I had the choice between the riots or dealing with my problems I would settle for the riots.
That hard.
To deal with mistakes that feel like you would want to take the easy way out.
I had to do this, do you think it’s easy to stay angry with someone and with myself at the same time. I didn’t want to go there but it had to be, we share the same social circle and he now knows of my flaws. Real big flaws such as self-loathing and lacked confidence. Real sexy. No wonder I feel like I lost big time. The feeling of defeatism is mutual if you’re on a team that is going nowhere, not winning but not losing so much where you lose control and you miss the playoffs. I know the game plan was going to change, I was going to have to adapt to it. However a few things had to come out because for once I felt like I had to fend for myself:
I don’t befriend the girlfriend, either current or past tense
I am not 2nd rate/3rd string (I keep telling myself this)
I am currently by myself looking for trust and friends
Can I trust you as a friend?
I may not be hopeful but there is a part of me that still thinks that there might be good. Can I still find good after losing trust, losing myself. The fact that what I did before, the open relationship. I knew that this was wrong (my gut knew it) and yet, I kept going. Throwing myself into this mess over and over. Hurting myself on many levels. And worst of all, someone knows of this. He explored into my dark realm. Now, how can I redeem myself after what happened?
I kick myself all the time knowing I did this stupid thing, being a thing. I’m more than an object:
I’ve been told I’ve been awesome
Caring
Passionate
Honest
Wonderful
My all time favorite: confident.
He sees that in me but is not into me, I know that. I should know that, I haven’t been myself in a long time and here I am in the bar, facing the music to admit that I haven’t been a good person (to myself and to others). My friend in Toronto has pushed away people and has isolated himself. I don’t want to be that person, I also don’t want to be that person who is angry and writing these words this late in the night. I don’t:
Want to stay angry
I don’t want to keep hating myself for nearly destroying myself
I don’t want to stay stuck
I don’t want to lose trust or lose people
I don’t want to keep hurting myself.
I remember two years ago I was happy, I finished school, photo was great. I was making friends and had hope. I miss that person; I was naïve to believe that opportunities would drop on my lap. I knew that there was going to be dirt on my hands, instead I now have scars. Scars that show and tell a story of trying to figure out where I fit into the scheme of things. Of messes that I would have to explain, in a rare case, to admit that I did. I have to stop punishing myself and others. To search for answers in other people and when they let me down, to not rely on their hope when there’s have disappeared. It’s up to me now, I know there is some hope as I was gutsy to go into flying objects and mass destruction. It’ll take time for wounds to heal, the scars to remind me that I cannot be stupid about my life. I have to deal with the fact that it’s going to be tough, go with as little hope as I can. It’s better than no hope at all. I’ve been good the last 6 weeks; I’ll still be going. It’s up to me now to create my happiness.
I’m not done yet, I’m still here.
The fact that I think its time to face the fact, I'm not at a place in my life where I should be.
Should is the word I tend to focus on:
I should be freelancing more
I should be writing more (less about me, more to an audience)
I should be more career, there is a place for creativity, less casual about
I should stop being lost and confused
I shouldn't go down.
I'm down, trying to get up. I've done this before, one too many times. I don't know if I have that feeling of achievement when it's been scripted. I know this play by heart.
Then why the Hell am I not performing this to the audience.
The last few weeks I stepped away from the spotlight, went out of the radar. I hid from the confines of my social life and thought about what my game plan should be. I've been stalling, I've been afraid...afraid that this could either go two ways: bad or good.
My feedback has always been good, she's got talent, she's got poise. However...
However there is this shadow, this darkness that has a hard time believing that there is good, there is hope. That this is too good to be true. And then, it goes away. The goodness is there, I wish I can believe it can be a permanent resident in my heart after years of revolving in and out of my life.
This past weekend I was in Toronto, I was covering Canadian Music Week, the perks of being a photographer with ideas, they actually take you places. I ended up taking pictures of bands in amazing venues in downtown Toronto. I've been focused on being a better photographer these last few weeks and it shows. I see what I'm about to shoot, I'm aware of my surroundings. I think I'm back at the level I was a couple years before I sort of lost interest.
Glad that it's there. Now if only I can do that in my personal work.
I was staying at a friend’s; he's actually a friend of my ex's (the one who took off with my money). He is normally an in your face, to the point, right wing, ADD driven asshole who pushes my buttons and well, I need someone to push my buttons to get the work done.
He unfortunately has fallen on hard times and like the economic crisis, is in need of a bailout. More for his mental well being than his wallet. Hasn't worked in months, living in a filthy bachelors and popping pills to sustain another day of numbed living. He has good days, I encountered the bad when you combined alcohol with self loathing and revealing a suicide attempt gone wrong. This was hardcore, this was real. This is something I am familiar with.
Suicide not so much, the fact that this being the true last resort means that I’ve not hit rock bottom. But the fact that I think it does cross some minds now and then. The fact that I know the role of the self-loather looking for answers, looking for a way out of these situations. I know this role and I know it’s hard to deal with this type of person but let’s face it; there are a lot of us out there. We’re living in not so ideal situations. In the last 18 months I’ve lost friends to other cities because of the job situations, I’ve seen friends struggle in search for work, relationships I’ve question and worst of all, the need of addiction in the form of alcohol and meaningless lust (or relationships consisted of nothing because of a fear of not having someone in the room).
That’s a lot going on in my head, hence the stuck feeling.
My friend is ok as it can get, I know he’ll get out of it. I hope he’ll get out of it. These are trying times, it’s hard to be creative when all there is is real, if you try to escape it feels like you’re neglecting the hard truth at hand, to face them head on.
I really hope he’ll make it out ok, I just don’t know when.
Hope, that word again. I hope for a lot of things:
To be happy without guilt
To take pictures without either intimidation or sheer frustration
To know that my friendships have no strings attached or limitations
To believe that there is such thing as stability
To know that when someone falls down, they can get up
Here’s the big one, to know that there is no such thing as running out of ideas.
I know this guy who tours from city to city, telling strange exploits from his eclectic life. I met him starting out freelancing and he gave me advice about the idea of making some money in the process. We found out we share a common connection of self-awareness in our storytelling. Curiously is what we craved, the sense of exploration in what is out there got me to explore some things about myself I didn’t know existed:
Such as true confidence.
I found my confidence form someone who only sees me 10 days out of the year. He sees it in my words, my images and in my doodles. I believed in that, I believed for the first time that this could be done, creativity as a job, because he’s doing it.
Then came last year, this was me out of it. My world crashed and I was self destructive, being the 2nd rate/3rd string in the “open relationship” and not doing great photo wise. He returned with a show where he struggled, he had a hard time writing it. He was having a tough tour.
This was not supposed to happen, he was my rock. He was the hope I needed and here he was, struggling. This was the first time I saw that no matter how creative you can be, you could run out of ideas. The jig was up, we’re doomed. I lost more confidence and drank some more. I didn’t want to admit it but even heroes can be mortals too.
He’s back on track doing other forms of performance however I won’t be seeing him in town. That’s the sad part; I’ll miss the insights and the strong hugs where it felt like he’s protecting me from the harsh world. I feel betrayed but do believe that there is only a small ray of hope that creativity will be back on track.
That word again. Will you stop giving me expectations?
Which brings me to today. I did take pics of bands all weekend, but when I got back I got a call to cover the anti brutality riots (it started as a demonstration however when I got there it gotten out of hand). At the same time I gotten out of hiding and decided to see the guy (formally known as jerkface) for the first time in months. I needed to figure things out; he didn’t want to deal with what I went through in Toronto with my friend (me playing the role of the self loather).
I knew that the clash between police and demonstrators would result in the destruction of property and udder chaos:
And I chose to be in the heart of the action.
At first I was pissed that we lost the photographer and I got back into town 20 minutes before. I was more pissed that jerkface bailed out on me for the 64th time (now here’s someone who knows more about bailouts). And with an angry, tired photographer stuck on a city bus while cop cars bombard the streets in search of an angry mob there were two things I could do: wait and fume on the bus or get out and find the mob. Helicopters swirled the city, crowds and cop cars going into a direction that would lead me to jackpot. I ran and ran until I found the show down between riot cops and crazy mobs. I ducked rocks, debris and anarchy. I was getting a high from risking my neck for photos. By the end of the day, it was this feeling of satisfaction knowing that I had the balls to sustain something I would have avoided. This rush of confidence of doing this without doing anything stupid. It wasn’t that hard.
What was hard today was looking at myself in front of jerkface, sitting down and talking with him for the first time and dealing with the problem at hand. If I had the choice between the riots or dealing with my problems I would settle for the riots.
That hard.
To deal with mistakes that feel like you would want to take the easy way out.
I had to do this, do you think it’s easy to stay angry with someone and with myself at the same time. I didn’t want to go there but it had to be, we share the same social circle and he now knows of my flaws. Real big flaws such as self-loathing and lacked confidence. Real sexy. No wonder I feel like I lost big time. The feeling of defeatism is mutual if you’re on a team that is going nowhere, not winning but not losing so much where you lose control and you miss the playoffs. I know the game plan was going to change, I was going to have to adapt to it. However a few things had to come out because for once I felt like I had to fend for myself:
I don’t befriend the girlfriend, either current or past tense
I am not 2nd rate/3rd string (I keep telling myself this)
I am currently by myself looking for trust and friends
Can I trust you as a friend?
I may not be hopeful but there is a part of me that still thinks that there might be good. Can I still find good after losing trust, losing myself. The fact that what I did before, the open relationship. I knew that this was wrong (my gut knew it) and yet, I kept going. Throwing myself into this mess over and over. Hurting myself on many levels. And worst of all, someone knows of this. He explored into my dark realm. Now, how can I redeem myself after what happened?
I kick myself all the time knowing I did this stupid thing, being a thing. I’m more than an object:
I’ve been told I’ve been awesome
Caring
Passionate
Honest
Wonderful
My all time favorite: confident.
He sees that in me but is not into me, I know that. I should know that, I haven’t been myself in a long time and here I am in the bar, facing the music to admit that I haven’t been a good person (to myself and to others). My friend in Toronto has pushed away people and has isolated himself. I don’t want to be that person, I also don’t want to be that person who is angry and writing these words this late in the night. I don’t:
Want to stay angry
I don’t want to keep hating myself for nearly destroying myself
I don’t want to stay stuck
I don’t want to lose trust or lose people
I don’t want to keep hurting myself.
I remember two years ago I was happy, I finished school, photo was great. I was making friends and had hope. I miss that person; I was naïve to believe that opportunities would drop on my lap. I knew that there was going to be dirt on my hands, instead I now have scars. Scars that show and tell a story of trying to figure out where I fit into the scheme of things. Of messes that I would have to explain, in a rare case, to admit that I did. I have to stop punishing myself and others. To search for answers in other people and when they let me down, to not rely on their hope when there’s have disappeared. It’s up to me now, I know there is some hope as I was gutsy to go into flying objects and mass destruction. It’ll take time for wounds to heal, the scars to remind me that I cannot be stupid about my life. I have to deal with the fact that it’s going to be tough, go with as little hope as I can. It’s better than no hope at all. I’ve been good the last 6 weeks; I’ll still be going. It’s up to me now to create my happiness.
I’m not done yet, I’m still here.
Wednesday, February 25, 2009
Seeking the Best out of the Worst dating Lineup
I was in a slew of emotions, trying to contain rather than let them out. Once they come out, they won't stop. I don't know if it's the weather to blame but it does a number on the water works.
I decided to not write during that period because let's face it: we've heard it all before. Yes, I'm not the best girl in Montreal (right now), yes, I'm still angry about Jerkface the "open relationship" guy who now has killed relationships for me...
...for now.
Previously it was the douchebag who took my money and said that I wasn't suited to be his wife or bear his kids. He's seeking work in the diplomatic area and so far dodging the ex and getting some drunk sibling to call me scum, hmm, does that sound diplomatic to anyone?
A Michelle Obama he seeks who is more background than stand out.However, Michelle Obama would never go for a douchebag.
Prior to that there was the yuppie that would make me cry every Friday. The type who talks of nothing but about his surround sound speakers, would exfoliate more than I do and thinks he's better than everyone (creatively). I don't see you writing scripts and putting on shows, you do however bankroll them then sleep with someone in the cast.
And so forth and so forth...
This all triggered after watching my friend's play about seeking for the right mate, to commit to someone he would put on a pedestal and dubbed "the best girl in Montreal". I met him when in the play, he ran out of the country for these girls. A couple friends filled me in on the "actual" story behind what really happened prior to the play.
Then I started to go through my track record, hence the water works. Also at the same time, my beloved Montreal Canadiens were having the week that they wish to forget, not letting Kovalev play and a link to mobsters by the kiddies of squad. We went back in time in a lifestyle common to the Mob, live fast, drink hard, women you have for one night only.
Hockey and relationships do go hand and hand, having a good relationship is like going to the Stanley Cup final: take full advantage because it's never going to happen again.
If I were to compare my dating record, I would have the hardest time making the playoffs. It would be a miracle to make it far, seriously, I need to reevaluate the lineup cause it's the laughing stock of the league.
In Montreal, it's easy to find the best girl because let's face it, there are a lot of amazing girls out there. For us, the reversal of fortune is nothing but a game of Russian Roulette. Too many chances, fewer and fewer guys out there. I feel like I'm not the best because there are more girls better than me then it becomes harder to compete. Or lack of competition as most guys will like anything, picky I know they're not. As long as they can make the playoffs (in whatever capacity) it's fine by them.
I think guys are even more insecure about being alone. It's just not as well played.
True fact: the douchebag started going out with a generic blond after he dumped me, 2 weeks later. When jerkface broke off with his girl, he was with his blond replacement a week later.
Then again, they were going on while still with the girlfriend, me as the extra.
BTW, I hate blonds. Unless you're Alex Kovalev.
I downplay in the game because since there is a lack, you really can't be picky. I got lucky with the douche, I loved his curiosity and the ability to make me feel like a better person. We were good, except the part where he couldn't keep a job and got clingy during my final year of University. I couldn't cope, snapped at him, then he thought, well this isn't going to work out.
Like I wasn't already stressed out enough as it is.
I tried seeing it from a Bob Gainey approach, he does the hardest job on earth making sure what is best for this squad and this happens, the kiddies drink hard with strippers, Carey Price is as useful as a plant. I know that the plant would stop the puck more. Expectations were high at first but now it's "let's just make the playoffs."
The same way I see guys. Why should I have expectations when clearly I will be disappointed no matter what. I will lose to blonds, when I do get mad then they think it's the end of the relationship. I no longer have the pressure of being the best when in theory there will be times when I will be at my worst.
Which happened to Kovalev then the whole city wants him out, then he does that magic thing he does and then we love him again.
STOP IT STOP IT STOP IT.
What I learned out of relationships and hockey is that the expectations are high for someone who has to do all the work while the other lounges around and makes it hard. It's hard for me because like I said: it's rare to go to the Stanley Cup final. I'm reaching the age where it gets even harder, selection is so scarce. For guys they can find whoever is "best" until it doesn't mesh. Stop seeking the best and seek what is real, sometimes there will be confidence in one night, a collapse in the next. I think women are more understanding about that (and this is why most of us date douchebags and jerkfaces). But yes, I want to make the playoffs but I will have to do this with an actual team that works as a team, no superstars, no spotlight. Nada expectations.
Who would want the ideal when the real has more surprises. Maybe this could be the year or maybe, who knows. I am doing my best here, right?
I decided to not write during that period because let's face it: we've heard it all before. Yes, I'm not the best girl in Montreal (right now), yes, I'm still angry about Jerkface the "open relationship" guy who now has killed relationships for me...
...for now.
Previously it was the douchebag who took my money and said that I wasn't suited to be his wife or bear his kids. He's seeking work in the diplomatic area and so far dodging the ex and getting some drunk sibling to call me scum, hmm, does that sound diplomatic to anyone?
A Michelle Obama he seeks who is more background than stand out.However, Michelle Obama would never go for a douchebag.
Prior to that there was the yuppie that would make me cry every Friday. The type who talks of nothing but about his surround sound speakers, would exfoliate more than I do and thinks he's better than everyone (creatively). I don't see you writing scripts and putting on shows, you do however bankroll them then sleep with someone in the cast.
And so forth and so forth...
This all triggered after watching my friend's play about seeking for the right mate, to commit to someone he would put on a pedestal and dubbed "the best girl in Montreal". I met him when in the play, he ran out of the country for these girls. A couple friends filled me in on the "actual" story behind what really happened prior to the play.
Then I started to go through my track record, hence the water works. Also at the same time, my beloved Montreal Canadiens were having the week that they wish to forget, not letting Kovalev play and a link to mobsters by the kiddies of squad. We went back in time in a lifestyle common to the Mob, live fast, drink hard, women you have for one night only.
Hockey and relationships do go hand and hand, having a good relationship is like going to the Stanley Cup final: take full advantage because it's never going to happen again.
If I were to compare my dating record, I would have the hardest time making the playoffs. It would be a miracle to make it far, seriously, I need to reevaluate the lineup cause it's the laughing stock of the league.
In Montreal, it's easy to find the best girl because let's face it, there are a lot of amazing girls out there. For us, the reversal of fortune is nothing but a game of Russian Roulette. Too many chances, fewer and fewer guys out there. I feel like I'm not the best because there are more girls better than me then it becomes harder to compete. Or lack of competition as most guys will like anything, picky I know they're not. As long as they can make the playoffs (in whatever capacity) it's fine by them.
I think guys are even more insecure about being alone. It's just not as well played.
True fact: the douchebag started going out with a generic blond after he dumped me, 2 weeks later. When jerkface broke off with his girl, he was with his blond replacement a week later.
Then again, they were going on while still with the girlfriend, me as the extra.
BTW, I hate blonds. Unless you're Alex Kovalev.
I downplay in the game because since there is a lack, you really can't be picky. I got lucky with the douche, I loved his curiosity and the ability to make me feel like a better person. We were good, except the part where he couldn't keep a job and got clingy during my final year of University. I couldn't cope, snapped at him, then he thought, well this isn't going to work out.
Like I wasn't already stressed out enough as it is.
I tried seeing it from a Bob Gainey approach, he does the hardest job on earth making sure what is best for this squad and this happens, the kiddies drink hard with strippers, Carey Price is as useful as a plant. I know that the plant would stop the puck more. Expectations were high at first but now it's "let's just make the playoffs."
The same way I see guys. Why should I have expectations when clearly I will be disappointed no matter what. I will lose to blonds, when I do get mad then they think it's the end of the relationship. I no longer have the pressure of being the best when in theory there will be times when I will be at my worst.
Which happened to Kovalev then the whole city wants him out, then he does that magic thing he does and then we love him again.
STOP IT STOP IT STOP IT.
What I learned out of relationships and hockey is that the expectations are high for someone who has to do all the work while the other lounges around and makes it hard. It's hard for me because like I said: it's rare to go to the Stanley Cup final. I'm reaching the age where it gets even harder, selection is so scarce. For guys they can find whoever is "best" until it doesn't mesh. Stop seeking the best and seek what is real, sometimes there will be confidence in one night, a collapse in the next. I think women are more understanding about that (and this is why most of us date douchebags and jerkfaces). But yes, I want to make the playoffs but I will have to do this with an actual team that works as a team, no superstars, no spotlight. Nada expectations.
Who would want the ideal when the real has more surprises. Maybe this could be the year or maybe, who knows. I am doing my best here, right?
Sunday, February 8, 2009
Happy Hour?
Here I am writing my blog out of all places: the bar next to my work. It is in a way my office as I am here for hockey games, 5 a 7 and yes, even the occasional rendez vous with someone that fancies me (more recent, the jerkface from the open relationship). Yes, I’m still on this as he’s in my doghouse now, hiding like a coward as if he does show his face in my scene then it would be true: that he is a total jerkface, a liar and the most insecure person on earth. Wanting the attention as if he were a child tugging at his mother’s skirt, wanting her to validate his achievement (or simply his presence).
So why should I even give him the time of day when all he does is waste my time?
Other than that, it’s a loud night, the Habs play the Leafs, which means the bar, will be packed. Louder than normal when it’s hockey night, nearly impossible to hear one’s self amidst the patrons filled with chicken wings and beer. However the voice in my head these days outprojects the table of six next to me.
The bar of late, has been a place for me to think, to contemplate what’s been on my mind in the last while. I have realized this week the significance of a photo project that I’ve been doing for years. That yes, every two years I do become a different person and not the same as the two years previous. I compared myself from two years ago and realized:
I don’t like this person.
Where’s the self determined being that plays the underdog card and comes out on top with nothing to lose? The quirky, crazy, wanting to explore being that was (and can still be me).
She’s in this bar somewhere and I got to find her or else what was the whole point to what I’m doing. I don’t like wasting so I don’t want to be considered a wasted person.
The scenario as follows: the fear in me has been installed due to the consequences that have occurred: bad taste in guys, bad judgment in the jerkface, the sh**ty wrist that has limited me, the economic crisis and post university. All of these have added to this:
I’ve lost photo jobs to someone who barely knows the rules of photo yet has all the time in the world to shoot (I don’t, have a job), there are more politics in the paper I work at and would want to freelance more but the opportunities you can do at a student paper sure beats covering a bake sale. I’m questioning on whether or not I am a good photographer, or even a good person. I yell at one person…
I’m at a low point where: 29, lives at home, minimum wage, pushed around, no confidence at all. However, I do admit that since I realized this, maybe I can turn this around completely. I think the open relationship/sh**ty wrists are what’s preventing me, who wants to hire someone who may be prone to injury and bad judgment. People do talk.
I think jerkface did and I got blackballed.
I can’t seem to forgive myself for being the other woman. I think all the time I’ve done this awful thing and shouldn’t deserve anything. The fact that I have bad judgment, think about it, if you actually have me in a real life situation, life or death type of deal, would you really want to have your faith determined by the girl who decided to be in the open relationship with the same guy twice and not come out with something?
Really?!?
I remember being a lot smarter about this two years ago.
Man, no wonder why everyone stays in University, we’re a bunch of useless stupid people with no purpose to serve without the shelter of the ivory tower. I’ve become a total douchebag, the being I’ve been trying not to be however it crept up behind me as I was becoming vulnerable to the real world adjustment. You know the theory of the little fish/big pond and big fish/little pond. As I figured out how to become a big fish, the ponds would be easy to adapt and become smaller, I have no other form of level to go up to now, actually, it’s a Hell of a lot bigger than I can handle. I am now in the ocean and if I don’t adapt, I’m going keep on drowning.
I think it would be better if I were to drown my sorrows in the beer right next to me but I won’t, the fact that I’m writing my blog in a bar on hockey night has me thinking that this could actually be a good sign. I am writing again, right?
The whole notion of what could happen now then where I was two years ago is quite different, the rules and attitude is supposed to exceed intelligence however my scenarios are so childish and immature the only thing I can think of is:
At least you know, do something about it.
I know that’s something I would have never done two years ago.
So why should I even give him the time of day when all he does is waste my time?
Other than that, it’s a loud night, the Habs play the Leafs, which means the bar, will be packed. Louder than normal when it’s hockey night, nearly impossible to hear one’s self amidst the patrons filled with chicken wings and beer. However the voice in my head these days outprojects the table of six next to me.
The bar of late, has been a place for me to think, to contemplate what’s been on my mind in the last while. I have realized this week the significance of a photo project that I’ve been doing for years. That yes, every two years I do become a different person and not the same as the two years previous. I compared myself from two years ago and realized:
I don’t like this person.
Where’s the self determined being that plays the underdog card and comes out on top with nothing to lose? The quirky, crazy, wanting to explore being that was (and can still be me).
She’s in this bar somewhere and I got to find her or else what was the whole point to what I’m doing. I don’t like wasting so I don’t want to be considered a wasted person.
The scenario as follows: the fear in me has been installed due to the consequences that have occurred: bad taste in guys, bad judgment in the jerkface, the sh**ty wrist that has limited me, the economic crisis and post university. All of these have added to this:
I’ve lost photo jobs to someone who barely knows the rules of photo yet has all the time in the world to shoot (I don’t, have a job), there are more politics in the paper I work at and would want to freelance more but the opportunities you can do at a student paper sure beats covering a bake sale. I’m questioning on whether or not I am a good photographer, or even a good person. I yell at one person…
I’m at a low point where: 29, lives at home, minimum wage, pushed around, no confidence at all. However, I do admit that since I realized this, maybe I can turn this around completely. I think the open relationship/sh**ty wrists are what’s preventing me, who wants to hire someone who may be prone to injury and bad judgment. People do talk.
I think jerkface did and I got blackballed.
I can’t seem to forgive myself for being the other woman. I think all the time I’ve done this awful thing and shouldn’t deserve anything. The fact that I have bad judgment, think about it, if you actually have me in a real life situation, life or death type of deal, would you really want to have your faith determined by the girl who decided to be in the open relationship with the same guy twice and not come out with something?
Really?!?
I remember being a lot smarter about this two years ago.
Man, no wonder why everyone stays in University, we’re a bunch of useless stupid people with no purpose to serve without the shelter of the ivory tower. I’ve become a total douchebag, the being I’ve been trying not to be however it crept up behind me as I was becoming vulnerable to the real world adjustment. You know the theory of the little fish/big pond and big fish/little pond. As I figured out how to become a big fish, the ponds would be easy to adapt and become smaller, I have no other form of level to go up to now, actually, it’s a Hell of a lot bigger than I can handle. I am now in the ocean and if I don’t adapt, I’m going keep on drowning.
I think it would be better if I were to drown my sorrows in the beer right next to me but I won’t, the fact that I’m writing my blog in a bar on hockey night has me thinking that this could actually be a good sign. I am writing again, right?
The whole notion of what could happen now then where I was two years ago is quite different, the rules and attitude is supposed to exceed intelligence however my scenarios are so childish and immature the only thing I can think of is:
At least you know, do something about it.
I know that’s something I would have never done two years ago.
Saturday, January 31, 2009
Really contemplating....
I've been looking at myself really hard and asking myself: really?!?
Nothing right now is making me happy, everything (in my mind) feels wrong. My voice, is not coming out. My soul has nothing to believe in. Trying to find the right words, the right speech to make things out, instead anger and frustation comes out and scares away people.
In one case, thinking that I am crazy and need to be on medication.
Everyone is medicated, numbing themselves in believing that they can be content rather than face the fact: things are hard, you're going to have to deal with it. No ammout of booze, lust or even perscription will make this go away.
I'm aware of my situation, giving me a pill will make me deal with my emotions. However, the problem will still be unresolved. I can't live with that. I'm the type of person looking for answers, in the meantime I'm trapped in situations that (in theory can be resolved) however...
I'm afraid that either I'm going to fall flat on my face or (the greater fear)
that I might actually succeed.
It's like playing the lottery, we believe in the idea that it could happen and we keep trying, but what if...
I've been hearing the what if over and over, playing my numbers and knowing that it will never happen. Wasting my four dollars per week on a supposive solution, yeah right.
Yeah right that I can actually make it as a photographer and get out of my coffee shop job and move out of my folk's apt and get on with my life.
My doubts have trapped me into the situation above, the holder of a Bachelor of Arts who has been published and paid, overqualified in the art of latte making. My parents are old, that scares me thinking that if I win my lottery, it'll be too late for them to enjoy.
So far the words are still the same, still no answers.
I guess I can break it down this way:
-I hate my minimum wage job because I think I'm better than it, yet I'm still there dealing with stupid and stupid only.
-I work at a student paper with more politics (and more exciting) than what is happening in Ottawa (yet I think we have a better chance at a better fiscal solution).
-I don't trust my friends who can't be there for me as I am there for them, listening to them word for word (as I think they're afraid that they won't be heard either). The dominating type who are even more alone if they don't have someone in the room, the type to take charge but no one wants to march with them.
-My family...I don't talk about them in this however, they are core to me but I don't know if they're good for me (right now).
There are situations that have solutions however where to start? And is there room for me, my voice, my eyes and my heart in this?
I've been looking at this long and hard, asking what a 29 year old is doing stuck in this vicious cycle. I can't keep doing this. Don't you think it's about time that there is a solution...
or do I keep playing lottery tickets.
Nothing right now is making me happy, everything (in my mind) feels wrong. My voice, is not coming out. My soul has nothing to believe in. Trying to find the right words, the right speech to make things out, instead anger and frustation comes out and scares away people.
In one case, thinking that I am crazy and need to be on medication.
Everyone is medicated, numbing themselves in believing that they can be content rather than face the fact: things are hard, you're going to have to deal with it. No ammout of booze, lust or even perscription will make this go away.
I'm aware of my situation, giving me a pill will make me deal with my emotions. However, the problem will still be unresolved. I can't live with that. I'm the type of person looking for answers, in the meantime I'm trapped in situations that (in theory can be resolved) however...
I'm afraid that either I'm going to fall flat on my face or (the greater fear)
that I might actually succeed.
It's like playing the lottery, we believe in the idea that it could happen and we keep trying, but what if...
I've been hearing the what if over and over, playing my numbers and knowing that it will never happen. Wasting my four dollars per week on a supposive solution, yeah right.
Yeah right that I can actually make it as a photographer and get out of my coffee shop job and move out of my folk's apt and get on with my life.
My doubts have trapped me into the situation above, the holder of a Bachelor of Arts who has been published and paid, overqualified in the art of latte making. My parents are old, that scares me thinking that if I win my lottery, it'll be too late for them to enjoy.
So far the words are still the same, still no answers.
I guess I can break it down this way:
-I hate my minimum wage job because I think I'm better than it, yet I'm still there dealing with stupid and stupid only.
-I work at a student paper with more politics (and more exciting) than what is happening in Ottawa (yet I think we have a better chance at a better fiscal solution).
-I don't trust my friends who can't be there for me as I am there for them, listening to them word for word (as I think they're afraid that they won't be heard either). The dominating type who are even more alone if they don't have someone in the room, the type to take charge but no one wants to march with them.
-My family...I don't talk about them in this however, they are core to me but I don't know if they're good for me (right now).
There are situations that have solutions however where to start? And is there room for me, my voice, my eyes and my heart in this?
I've been looking at this long and hard, asking what a 29 year old is doing stuck in this vicious cycle. I can't keep doing this. Don't you think it's about time that there is a solution...
or do I keep playing lottery tickets.
Tuesday, January 27, 2009
Where did I go...I guess I'm back.
It's taken me a few days to think about this.
Where did I go, here I am. It's the 27th day of the New Year and I've returned (somewhat) to seeing things the way I used to. Well, attempting. Long story short, haven't been myself in months, I've been doing the things I've been doing, just not with heart and soul (no voice too).
Consider me the prettiest doormat in the city, no longer the ATM machine like I was before.
I missed out on commentary and experience such as the many elections endured, one more democratic than the other (while down South has become "Obamafied") her sister of the North is now a big fat joke with shaky Govenment, sliding economics and a shattered reputation.
How the tables have indeed turned.
Been out of the loop in the Montreal scene, full of more hipsters, trendoids and holes in the brain (more than ever). I then wonder if these people think they're better than me when they can't order coffee properly, I think then I may be the most overqualified person in the room and yet I still buy Apparel and look so normal.
I had a friend comment that the Plateau/Mile end have the worst dressers he's seen in this country, come on people: wear (proper) pants. Or simply wear pants.
In the last while I've lost respect to the elitists and the deadbeats (as to me) are the same: treat me like I'm second rate yet are useless without a mate to put down or make them look good. I lost a friend in between girlfriends as I was the in between in a thing we call an "open relationship".
Jerkface has now replaced douchebag in my books.
For a while I didn't feel like drawing, writing this blog and slowly taking pictures will be on that list (these are the "Big Three" of what keeps me going). Without these, I'll be the norm that is at my job during the morning shift, mudane talk of deadbeat boyfriends, wishing to do other things than watching TV and yes, hockey.
For my two cents about this: the Habs are good, Kovalev is not a bum, we're not going to get Lecavalier, if you don't know who the Hell is Jean Beliveau or anything reguarding the history of this franchise then you're a faux fan to me. Out of my face please.
You can guess that lately I've been angry, angry can work on many levels. Here, I'm choosing to put it out there rather than take it out on someone (mainly Jerkface, you can see why I'm pissed).
Mainly because I thought I was going to be hampered by my sh**ty wrist that plagued me last summer, made me misrable and not myself. Now, I'm doing what I can to not let this win, by writing, drawing, taking pictures (even if it bothers me a little). So far, so good via this blog.
I'm slowly getting back, I don't know if this will be consistant. However, the good news is that I'm trying and will keep trying till I feel that I've gotten my point across: as a person, as a friend, as a photographer, as someone creative.
As me.
I guess I'm back to work.
Where did I go, here I am. It's the 27th day of the New Year and I've returned (somewhat) to seeing things the way I used to. Well, attempting. Long story short, haven't been myself in months, I've been doing the things I've been doing, just not with heart and soul (no voice too).
Consider me the prettiest doormat in the city, no longer the ATM machine like I was before.
I missed out on commentary and experience such as the many elections endured, one more democratic than the other (while down South has become "Obamafied") her sister of the North is now a big fat joke with shaky Govenment, sliding economics and a shattered reputation.
How the tables have indeed turned.
Been out of the loop in the Montreal scene, full of more hipsters, trendoids and holes in the brain (more than ever). I then wonder if these people think they're better than me when they can't order coffee properly, I think then I may be the most overqualified person in the room and yet I still buy Apparel and look so normal.
I had a friend comment that the Plateau/Mile end have the worst dressers he's seen in this country, come on people: wear (proper) pants. Or simply wear pants.
In the last while I've lost respect to the elitists and the deadbeats (as to me) are the same: treat me like I'm second rate yet are useless without a mate to put down or make them look good. I lost a friend in between girlfriends as I was the in between in a thing we call an "open relationship".
Jerkface has now replaced douchebag in my books.
For a while I didn't feel like drawing, writing this blog and slowly taking pictures will be on that list (these are the "Big Three" of what keeps me going). Without these, I'll be the norm that is at my job during the morning shift, mudane talk of deadbeat boyfriends, wishing to do other things than watching TV and yes, hockey.
For my two cents about this: the Habs are good, Kovalev is not a bum, we're not going to get Lecavalier, if you don't know who the Hell is Jean Beliveau or anything reguarding the history of this franchise then you're a faux fan to me. Out of my face please.
You can guess that lately I've been angry, angry can work on many levels. Here, I'm choosing to put it out there rather than take it out on someone (mainly Jerkface, you can see why I'm pissed).
Mainly because I thought I was going to be hampered by my sh**ty wrist that plagued me last summer, made me misrable and not myself. Now, I'm doing what I can to not let this win, by writing, drawing, taking pictures (even if it bothers me a little). So far, so good via this blog.
I'm slowly getting back, I don't know if this will be consistant. However, the good news is that I'm trying and will keep trying till I feel that I've gotten my point across: as a person, as a friend, as a photographer, as someone creative.
As me.
I guess I'm back to work.
Tuesday, September 9, 2008
Sh**ty Wrists = Sh**ty Attitude
There will be no rest until everything is under control.
I'm literally on day 13 of a 14 day work week, where I'm working my minimum wage job along with working at a student paper (finding photographers and taking pictures) and well, biting my tongue about certain people's ideals and decisions. I'm back to being a busy girl after a summer of complete burnout. The same work mode as mentioned however throw in a bottle of gin, the Fringe festival and the politics of what a promiscuous inner circle= moments of self loathing and not truly being myself.
But that's the least of the problem.
I developed a wrist problem which has transcended into tendinitis, finally diagnosed last week as a freaked out my doctor over my sheer flexibility (no one is supposed to be bendy like that, ew). My health is now on the line, as a photographer and as a person. This could jeopardize my chances of ever taking pictures for a major publication or anything if I don't get any better.
However, this is what I'm up against.
Apparently at my job, I'm the only person that knows how to make a sandwich. No one knows how to cook, even the woman I work with in the back (she has 3 children and doesn't know how to cook pasta, I figure this is a family of take out).
At the paper I work at, editors think I'm a psychic so I have to guess the time and place on where to send my photographers (including myself), including the names of people I have to take pics of. "Instead of telling me, meet at a battleship at 10 am, tell me 'we're covering a conference by National Defence, 10:30." This is where you will have a photographer showing up.
Having friends who think are better than most (pride ridden) say you can stay with them, only finding out at 2AM after a long day of work followed by travel, that they left their keys in their apt and have to watch them break into their old place to crash. And this is the 3rd time I've seen this happen.
I won't get into the nitty gritty of my family life however there is that one member who really is taking advantage even though she has no advantage at all.
And then you throw in an unnecessary election and stir up more havoc.
How on earth am I supposed to get any better when my attitude is no better than anyone who thinks they are better than me. Where is the common sense that I work my a** off and what I get in return is abuse and sh**ty wrists.
Someone that used to work my coffee shop job recommended another specialist, someone more athletic friendly than medical. Already feeling the havoc of thinking about another thing to do with my wrists, I get annoyed as this is the last thing I want to think about after working a nine hour shift.
Since the diagnosis, I've gotten my focus back. I know what it is, I don't have to wonder what's going to happen to me as a photographer and as a person, this is treatable, there are ways to treat it. I will do anything now to be a healthy photographer when the pressure is on. I do however have to remember to ease up and relax now and then. I mustn't forget to have a better attitude as they equal to better wrists.
I guess that's my excuse to feel better about myself.
I'm literally on day 13 of a 14 day work week, where I'm working my minimum wage job along with working at a student paper (finding photographers and taking pictures) and well, biting my tongue about certain people's ideals and decisions. I'm back to being a busy girl after a summer of complete burnout. The same work mode as mentioned however throw in a bottle of gin, the Fringe festival and the politics of what a promiscuous inner circle= moments of self loathing and not truly being myself.
But that's the least of the problem.
I developed a wrist problem which has transcended into tendinitis, finally diagnosed last week as a freaked out my doctor over my sheer flexibility (no one is supposed to be bendy like that, ew). My health is now on the line, as a photographer and as a person. This could jeopardize my chances of ever taking pictures for a major publication or anything if I don't get any better.
However, this is what I'm up against.
Apparently at my job, I'm the only person that knows how to make a sandwich. No one knows how to cook, even the woman I work with in the back (she has 3 children and doesn't know how to cook pasta, I figure this is a family of take out).
At the paper I work at, editors think I'm a psychic so I have to guess the time and place on where to send my photographers (including myself), including the names of people I have to take pics of. "Instead of telling me, meet at a battleship at 10 am, tell me 'we're covering a conference by National Defence, 10:30." This is where you will have a photographer showing up.
Having friends who think are better than most (pride ridden) say you can stay with them, only finding out at 2AM after a long day of work followed by travel, that they left their keys in their apt and have to watch them break into their old place to crash. And this is the 3rd time I've seen this happen.
I won't get into the nitty gritty of my family life however there is that one member who really is taking advantage even though she has no advantage at all.
And then you throw in an unnecessary election and stir up more havoc.
How on earth am I supposed to get any better when my attitude is no better than anyone who thinks they are better than me. Where is the common sense that I work my a** off and what I get in return is abuse and sh**ty wrists.
Someone that used to work my coffee shop job recommended another specialist, someone more athletic friendly than medical. Already feeling the havoc of thinking about another thing to do with my wrists, I get annoyed as this is the last thing I want to think about after working a nine hour shift.
Since the diagnosis, I've gotten my focus back. I know what it is, I don't have to wonder what's going to happen to me as a photographer and as a person, this is treatable, there are ways to treat it. I will do anything now to be a healthy photographer when the pressure is on. I do however have to remember to ease up and relax now and then. I mustn't forget to have a better attitude as they equal to better wrists.
I guess that's my excuse to feel better about myself.
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The story so far...
- Cindy Lopez
- Montreal, Quebec, Canada
- Cindy is trying her best to make a career as a photographer and throws in her writing as a balance (as she did a degree in Creative Writing). Cindy may have this background however still wants to understand what makes people tick, have strange stories of their own and why is it so hard from them to order coffee (really, it's not that hard).