My Purpose: Entertain, Inspire, Be Happy, Free Hugs!
 

A Serious Case of the Sads.

Since I haven't written in what seems like forever, I'm going to have to just sum up. I've gone through a shit storm of sadness with people I love dropping like flies. I can't tell you any more than that because it involves others who are private and don't want people to know what's going on in their lives. Suffice it to say that it's been a big struggle, and I have been wading through the muck of emotion for several months. There have been funny times during the morose moments. I can't detail that yet either, but it involves inappropriate taxidermy jokes. In general, I've been in Campbell River for months taking short breaks to hit Vancouver (I do...

Top 5 Reasons Why #Freethenipple Is Total Anti-Feminist BS

Exposing Ourselves in Public.There's this nipply thing going around the internet these days, and it’s hashtagged freethenipple. Basically, it's a feminist movement (and movie) lobbying to allow our lovely lady bits (nip bits, specifically) to be released from their prison—our clothing: tit-slings (bras), wife-beaters, tube tops, and sweater-stretchers—you name it, anything that women wear.Modern feminists claim that in order to break the glass ceiling, attain true equality and overcome all manner of male (gender?) oppression, we must be permitted to bare our boobs. Not just cleave. Not just under-cleave. Not even just side-boob. Nope, they want to see nipple action on the streets of Wherever and Whenever. Same as dudes can.Okay, I get it. I am sort of a feminist....

I Had a Dream … But You Don’t Have To.

Quick recap: Back in my small town in Canada I was a somebody. I had a high profile career and was very successful at it. After 20 years, many of the last of which were living in burnt out bitterness, I needed to make a change. But, I’d built up such an expectation of excellence within the community who knew me and a reputation built on ego and acclaim (and a closet full of expensive shoes), that leaving that life—and identity—wasn’t as easy as I’d thought: other people didn’t want me to (other professionals, clients).I burned out and wanted to fade away.All that time, energy and investment building up a career and community image only to want to escape it....

And Then There Was One ... As in: Me, As in: Single, Single Here! (As in: Sad sigh.)

After taking a FaceBreak for a month, I go back on social media hub central. As I’m not so inclined to browse through a month’s worth of newsfeed for ‘my closest 400+ best friends,’ I simply jump back in mid-stream.Interestingly, it is true that no one does miss you (me) when you (I) leave the FB party. The real—not virtual—friends and I have stayed in contact outside of social media. Two of my closest friends aren’t even on FB.Nonetheless, coming clean, I am self-publishing a memoir in the coming months, and the book marketing course I took last summer was all “social media, social media!” There are other ways to procure purchases, but they’re slower going and a lot more...

Atonement: Love is the Answer

Last week I went to a Marianne Williamson event with my housemate, Mermaid, and another housemate, Sussex. Since Mermaid's Prius' backseat (and trunk) were still stocking-stuffer stacked to the brim with the numerous treasures she's procured to resell at the next antique market, Sussex and I agree to share the passenger seat. I'm on top. This is both illegal and uncomfortable. By the time we get through almost 90 minutes of rush hour traffic, my coccyx needs a chiropractor and Sussex's knees are numb. Nonetheless, it's all worth it. There, we meet our friend, Tango (though he prefers to go by the sexier Africa007), who is also from the UK (born in Nigeria). Normally, Tango likes to sit at...

Letting Go of the Edge of the Pool aka Damn You, Comfort Zone

A few days ago, I had an “a-ha” moment, one of those light bulb going off in my mind, but more like one of those movie spotlights that showcases some event and criss-crosses in the sky to be seen for miles—only to shine directly in my light-sensitive pupils. The “a-ha” told me, “It's time,” whereby I replied, “But I’m not ready.” And it said, “You'll never be ready, so do it now.” This little conversation in my mind was referring to separating my self from the old Realty-Lady me. I'm still getting heart palpitations just writing about it. Though I hung up my license over a year ago, my name and face have still been on 'my' team's...

From Bitter Broker to Broke and Happy—The Joy of Simply Waking Up

The other day I’m on my way to a vintage clothing shop (read: second hand), and I see two fellows on the bus bench in front of the shop. They’re obviously homeless as evidenced by their grubby, layered frocks; mangy, matted hair; shopping cart of filthy blankets and extra, oversized army jackets; and the 2 litre bottle of cheap chardonnay they are sharing at 10am on a Tuesday morning. The fellow facing me has brown hair and glaucoma. He asks, “Can you spare some change?” I say, “Just a minute,” and go into the store, not wanting them to filch my cash, feeling paranoid they’ll steal my wallet and somehow out-shuffle me down the street. I enter the...

Just What Category of Sex ARE We Agreeing To?

From the time I was 21, I’ve gone from one serious, committed relationship to the next with nary a breather in betwixt. Oh sure, a couple of times between those relationships I tested the sheets with a few non-relationship fellows—I think that’s common nowadays and, even if not, that’s what I did as part of my journey. But for the most part, my M.O. was as follows: meet man, have chemistry, have sex, move in, fight, break up, repeat cycle. The details could fill a boring, repetitive book. (I didn’t put all this tedium in my “Memoir.”) After my split with my ex-husband, Nice Man, almost seven years ago now, I went through a rapid series of serious relationships;...

The Abbott Kinney Disconnect—A Misfit’s Musings

Location: Venice Beach, CA. I’m in Venice Beach, California, land of hippies, hipsters, homeless, surfers, artists, con-artists, lame-ass, lonely, eco-friendly, eclectic, misguided, uber urban misfits and more singles than you can shake a handmade-hemp-stick at. It’s a melting pot of pop-culture and quirky characters, fame-seekers and soul-searchers, vendors selling all manner of wares and tourists flowing in a never-ending wave. I ride my bike on the Venice Boardwalk observing from a safe, speedy distance the disconnectedness of it all. I feel alone but not lonely. There’s an understanding—if not connection—in our unspoken and unconsciously acknowledged disconnect. The place I’m staying is 2 blocks away from the famous Abbott Kinney Boulevard, a 1-mile enviro-ethical guilt-free shopping-spree zone. Over...

The Compatibility (No Stats) Report—Do Opposites Really Attract?

I’ve met two couples recently who met on online dating sites. I also met a couple who started out as pen pals from different countries. They’ve been together 5, 10 and over 40 (!) years, respectively, and seem pretty darn happy. What gives? The 5-year couple’s story goes like this: The guy, Treasure Find-her, was online for a length of time—I can’t remember how long but, from his body language, I’d guess long enough to make it not fun anymore. The gal—Let’s Do It!—was sort of online by default; her friend had signed her up and “forced me into it.” Let’s Do It! rolls her eyes for emphasis, while her now husband of 5 years, Treasure Find-her, takes...

Daring Greatly with TMI!

I just read Brené Brown’s book, Daring Greatly, which was recommended to me recently and which I’ve been meaning to read for a while. It’s about vulnerability, shame, guilt, connection. Basically, Brown writes that allowing ourselves to be vulnerable is courageous not weak like so many of us seem to think. We all fear vulnerability in ourselves and seem to admire it in others. When someone dares greatly by expressing vulnerability, such as quitting their lucrative career to pursue their passion without any guarantee of success, people often admire that and label it courageous. I would like to add that there is no bravery without taking action in the face of fear (vulnerability). If you’re not afraid, it’s simply...

“We will all look at her differently now. Poor Girl.”

Remember the saying about how what you say Says More About You than who you’re talking about (behind her back, no less)? The title of this blog is a direct quote of one of the (very few) judgemental, critical, superior-attitude, I-think-I’m-better-than-you, probably-bible-thumping, stick-inserted-in-uber-tight-ass email replies that was just forwarded to me by a colleague after I accidentally sent my personal blog (err, this one) out to all of my real estate team blog subscribers this morning (whoops, techie forgot to switch the link when he moved my personal site). Fortunately, this was the only Nasty Nellie email I received (and am aware of), though there were a few who respectfully asked to be removed from said blog subscription...

A Gamut of Guys—Gama Rays of Rejection OR Why Rejection is Good for You (Me)!

July. I met a great guy recently in my Small Town, who I hung out with for awhile, enjoyed the company of, laughed endlessly with, went on hikes with (well, one hike), had coffee with (thrice), and looked at real estate with (I’m no longer a licenced salesperson, therefore, don’t have a lockbox key, therefore, they are drive by sightings—not B&Es). He is a man who has his shit together and is intelligent and interesting and—yes, I’ll admit—has lovely, soulful eyes and who, after a weekend jaunt out of town (him not me), never contacts me again! WTH? Perhaps he found some fine filly more his wave. To be sure, I know he isn’t for me...

Plus One—Why Being with Mr. For-Now is Preparing You for Mr. For-Ever

June. Chatting with a friend about her fast-fix, In & Out boyfriend got me thinking about all my past drive-thru relationships. I call them drive-thrus because they were speedy and convenient at the time, which often involved breaking up and getting back together several times (in & out) and satisfied a craving without really nourishing me. After my divorce to Nice Man, I went through a series of serious relationships—the kind where movie make-believe fairy sparks twinkles in our eyes, and we quickly copulate right into a cohabitation situation. And soon thereafter, we claw at each other with bitter words about how we each should change but doing nothing of the sort and instead hanging in there (on...

What Will They Think of Me? Embracing Authenticity

Fuck. There. I’ve said it—or rather written it—a shocking word (in my real estate business circle) that most people who know me as the consummate professional would never (and I do mean never) think I’d ever utter, never mind open with in my first public blog post. (Note: The title of my first blog was going to be “Alberta Beef Makes Me Horny,” but you’ll just have to wait for that one.) So here I am, the real me. Currently, the real me is scared as fuck. (Now I’m just writing that word to show off. I’ll refrain from further use unless authentically warranted, rather than just to shock, only because overuse of the word nullifies its effectiveness and distracts...

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