One km at a time

 

It often makes me wonder what it is that motivates someone to pick up a new habit or drop an old one.  I was reading a chapter on ‘self control’ that describe the means by which we achieve it. Immediately I felt a pang of envy towards B F Skinner who has been described as the most discipline of men, and as a result was able to live a very fulfilling life.

Now I think my life is pretty good – but I know that there are other things I can be doing – should be doing and in the future WILL be doing – so how will I know how to be disciplined when that time comes? It takes practice and perseverance and it was not just going to show up on a plate from the kitchen at Milestones – so I would have to earn it myself.

 

Not to dwell on the subject, but the bathing suit fiasco I mentioned earlier, was a motivator for me to hit the gym. Or maybe it was the fact that I was going on vacation and would be expected to fit decently into the clothes I already have because I cannot afford to purchase a new spring wardrobe.  Or it could also be the monstrous layer of fat I spotted on my outer thighs – or when I realized that I was over 110 lbs. I’m barely five feet – with a petite frame, so don’t you go giving me stank eye. It just came out of NOWHERE.

 

The point is – whatever it was that motivated me – those are the recurring images that keep me going when I decide to go the gym. Last week I went to the gym about four times to get a good run. The first day I managed to run 1km in 20 mins. The second day I ran .5km and added 15mins of weights. The next day I did another 1.4 km and it felt great. By Friday I did 10 mins and didn’t care. I was pooped. By Friday evening there was no evidence of that layer of fat on my legs – and I could actually button my pants up all the way to the top! Now this is what I call saving money!

 

Funny enough I thought the defeat I suffered at Victoria’s hands  didn’t last very long. Lets see…I got it on Wednesday and tried it on … after that disaster – I kept working out – ever though I knew that I would likely be wearing a t shirt on the beach of Mexico….  I did NOT become despondent! I continued onward and forward.

 

But today is Monday. Monday is a new day. I did not go to the gym. ‘Why not?’ ,you ask? Oh – how about that note from reception reminding me that my gym fees are now due? What timing!

 

So I’m going to press on with a slightly different strategy. To keep with my other new year’s promise to save money where I can – I will find a way to keep getting my exercise at a set cost until I can save for another gym membership. Here is my master plan:

 

I find that my right leg gets plenty a workout pressing the gas and break pedals in my car ; perhaps I can switch it up by getting my left foot involved

- ditto for my drum play in ‘Rock Band’.

 

When I watch 24 tonight I will jog in one spot every time a commercial comes on and during Y&R I’ll tuck my feet under the coffee table and do sit ups every time Colleen or Amber show up onscreen. Actually I can add Neil, Tyra, Karen, and the sappy siblings to that list too. 

 

Whatever it takes – I will get in my exercise kilometer today if it eats me alive. I ’m going to master the art of self control one kilometer at a time.

I’ve found ‘Victoria’s Secret’

 It is a mystery no more. This age old secret hidden in the smiles, piercing glances and precocious poses of catalogue modeling has evaded me for years. After all the mystery, the ‘secret’ showed up in a simple white plastic envelope.

 

Maybe it was my impulsiveness or spontaneous states of delusion, but on a Saturday evening I was visualizing what I would be wearing on my upcoming vacation. In that moment I stumbled upon on email advertising the Victoria secret sale – I checked quickly to see if my pet, ‘Visa’ was in the mood to play (and lo she was) – and off the website I went. It was an overwhelming experience. The vast selection would have made the decision most painful for the average woman my age, but lucky me – I had no choice but to head straight to the ‘clearance’ tagged , 1 – piece, section of the swimsuit page.  I hoped to find something that didn’t scream ‘’ I’m a mother “or say right out ‘I’m not here to swim’. There MUST be something in between I hoped silently…..

 

And there it was…just stunning. A gorgeous, original and most of all, ON SALE swimsuit that was more sexy than some of the bikinis I had to surpass. Three clicks later and it was over before it began. I ordered it quickly (in a small) and thought about how much exercise would have to be done to attempt to fit into this outfit without embarrassing myself, my husband and our friends.  At 19.99 what did I have to lose?  Delivery was  express of course – because, in short,  I just could not wait (and other miscellaneous logical excuses).

 

Thinking back, I had heard my husband remark, ‘I like that one’. I could swear I did.   Anyway, I hit the gym the Monday after I placed my first online clothing order – just to get myself ready for the inevitable shock of the reality of my figure webbed in a ribbon of material. Three days later it showed up. I think I dropped everything. I dropped my keys, my purse, my manners .. and last but not least, 15 minutes later- I dropped my pride. I don’t think you need to be privy to all the dirty details of my plight but imagination is an innate gift, so use it wisely.   

 

Victoria’s secret is very simple folks.

 

The secret is this- the humans who model the swimwear have proportions mirroring that of perhaps 1 % of the population of potential buyers. So what if I pulled that number I really just pulled out of the air? Take a look around folks. Anyone under the age of 19, under the height of 5 ‘3, or with breasts larger than a peach need not apply or buy.

 

So I think you’re starting to paint a polite picture of my disappointing realization that all women are not created equal. The swimsuit is now on its way to the state where I would have worn it, to a much more deserving figure.  However, the mystery  continues.

 

Will the ‘small’ swimsuit be too big for a size 00 woman under 5’1? 

 

Will I find a swimsuit that I can wear – and take pictures in it?

 

Stay tuned for the dramatic results.

Blah Blah Blog

Random Thought

 

So I had nothing particularly interesting to say when I first forced myself to write this blog but here goes…

 

It’s an awfully awkward year end – and it is approaching with such a quickness I cannot actually believe that I am actually an active participant and not just an observer. I have come to realize that while I thought I was living my life in a daring manner – trying new things and going beyond my boundaries…I’ve been doing nothing of the sort. Rather, I, like most of us have been quite restrictive and closed minded in my thinking and actions – devoting so much time avoiding what I should not be doing, that I haven’t been doing much at all.

 

How did I get to this very ‘comfortable’ place? Well, it could have started when I stopped moving. For those of you who have lived in the same dwelling all your life, imagine having lived in two countries and having moved a total of 23 times in your lifetime, 18 of those occurrences in the last 12 years. In those 12 years, I have worked for 17 different companies and not spent more than 5 days away from someone in my immediate family. Does ‘being settled’ mean a restrictive sense of conformity? Don’t get me wrong – I’m not fooled into thinking that just because there will ever be a moment where I am the sole owner of an idea of philosophy – or that that everyone has a specially distinctive path that leads them to a place where noone else will be. I am willing to share that space – I  just kinda want to know where its going. And I’m getting the feeling that I am just sitting here waiting for the way to be shown to me when I should be making it for myself. Consistency, therefore is a tool and not a destination.

 

I do 3 things consistently, speak eat and sleep – in that exact order. Everything else happens when it happens and there isn’t much I do to interrupt it. I have officially fallen into line of complacency– when did that happen? It seemed to me that I was original for pursuing my studies while working and raising a family – but the joke might be on me, friends. … it just might.  After all – school now is putting me at just a slight advantage over my counterparts and does not improve any of my talents. Perhaps this year – I will be more ACTIVE in pursuing my own path – maybe spending less time talking and thinking and more time listening and learning – dancing and doing.

 

Happy New Year All!

 

Denise

The erosion of simple social courtesy

It has come to my attention that all cultural and individual differences aside, we all could use a refresher course is common courtesy. Thanks Michy

 

Greetings

 

We are familiar with the generic ‘niceties’ that MOST of us allow, such as greeting someone when you are in their presence, smiling when making eye contact or even a simple nod or wave.  However, special consideration is to be taken when choosing to elevate this level of communication. Saying ‘How are you?’ is not a nicety. We should not just throw it out there without expecting a reply – or assuming the response before it actually occurs. I have quite a few times responded to that question with a less than positive answer only to have the person rebut ‘ That’s nice’.

If I just told you that I have contracted a life threatening illness, ‘that’s nice’ doesn’t quite cut it.  If we are going to ask ‘How are you?’ we should at the very least, pretend to care.

 

Leaving

 

It would be nice to let someone know when we have finished speaking to them rather than just moving on to another conversation with someone else. Speaking to someone while scanning the room for people we consider more important is also not to be condoned. If your phone rings during a conversation, and you have caller ID, you might be able to wait, or simply say “Please excuse – hold that thought”. If the call is urgent – we should excuse ourselves so that our colleagues can carry on with their activities, rather than leave them stranded at the kitchenette coffee counter for 10 minutes before walking away.

 

I have noted that Americans in particular rarely signal when they are finished their telephone conversations. Cultural differences? Fair enough  - but why then would the phrase ‘good bye’ be of any use if not used here? I don’t understand. I mean how am I supposed to know when someone is curtly hanging up on me? Noone should get away with that – even when we are angry.  So when parting ways, a bit more than body language should be used to signal the end of a conversation – to show respect for that individual’s time and ensure further contact remains positive.

 

 

Thank You

 

Sometimes people do things for us repeatedly and without complaint, so we assume it means that we are doing them a favour by asking them to do the things we refuse to learn to do ourselves. It is at this point that we start to expect these ‘favours’ and begin to demand them – and all appreciation goes right out the front door.

 

‘Thank you’ is a simple phrase should be articulated on a daily basis. When someone opens a door, lets you in the turning lane during the busy rush hour traffic, brings you a beverage, offers you a ride – ‘Thank you’ is in order.  It is important to note that we tend to show appreciation to strangers more so than we do our friends and family, because we come to have a sense of expectation toward their repeated generosities.

 

We need to remember that just because someone is nice enough to complete a task we have given them, it doesn’t mean that we have the right to assume why they were ‘available’ to complete the task. What I mean is that the act of service is much more that competence and sense of duty. When someone takes the time (even more important than money sometimes) to do something for us – we assume they do it because they truly care about us and want the best results.

 

Regardless of the difficulty, service should be recognized. Do not take it for granted that just because someone does not  lament about the obstacles that they have had  to overcome in order to do our ‘dirty work’, that it means they are ‘supposed to’ do it- or that they enjoy it.  They might be quite aware that we are capable of taking on the task and simply didn’t think to say no – when we would be much quicker to do so had we been in their position.

 

 

Events

 

Events can truly highlight our etiquette ‘habits’. I told a girlfriend of mine that we tend to know all the ropes to pull to get what we want from people, but then we have no idea what to do when we do (or in some cases , do NOT) receive what we asked for.

Whether the event arouses feelings of pleasure or morose, we need to be cognizant that the world around us, more importantly, the people around us, are bystanders who are waiting for us to provide cues as to how to behave.

 

Events instigate a type of neuroses in certain personalities that cause the individuals to react quite contrary to who we thought we knew; when some of us might come to a different conclusion. It is just as possible that events of major impact elicit core personality truths that those around us may have only caught mere glimpses of, as we tend to hide these parts of us from the larger social group.

 

The ‘Bride-zilla’ phenomenon is an example of this seeming metamorphosis, where humble, courteous women turn into ostentatious, demanding and illogical human beings.  New mothers form passive aggressive tendencies towards childless associates, following the death of a loved one a reserved and cold individual might become vulnerable and open. I hope I have not strayed too far from the topic at hand; as I mean to connect the importance of tact, manners and etiquette particularly during memorable times.

 

Major life events are usually the crux of change, impacting who we keep around us – and who we do not. The façade of simple niceties will seldom hold up in these cases, so when we are getting married, we should not ask help of people we think of maliciously, and then proceed to ignore them once the task has been completed. We should not isolate close, caring friends while embracing superficial acquaintances when we are in need of emotional support.  

 

 

To conclude, I encourage us to be actively positive in our interaction with others as often as possible. We should not wait for the other person to be courteous, nor should we  tolerate impoliteness from those we know. With the very little time and resources we have to make a meaningful contribution to the betterment of human existence, the very least we can do is to acknowledge the presence and value of others.

 

To the naked eye, good manners is a matter of option or preference defined by what we say, but this will only take us so far. Genuine etiquette and courtesy lies in our conduct at times of bliss and crisis; in between the lines of things left unsaid.  

 

 

Have a great week, and thanks for stopping by  : )

 

Denise

The Morning After

Pondering the results of the American Election

 

 

This morning I am perturbed. I am irritated and left wanting. I am like the kid in the back seat of the car whose parents are in the midst of a great ‘day out’ debate and I have absolutely no say. I bite my lips and scrunch my eyebrows as we cruise along, passing nearly every fast food establishment on the strip. Then I spot it…the carnival.  This is how I felt watching the U.S. presidential election.

 

 I could see it coming – it was there. Right there – so close in proximity and I clear my throat to get their attention and position myself awkwardly so they my might glance at me just once in the rear view mirror. The driver looks at me briefly and flashes a smile – then proceeds to drive right by. I plaster my face unto the window absolutely defeated– the sounds, the sights, the spectacle, the celebration – I cannot join in. This is sooo unfair.

 

What I wouldn’t do to be in the U.S. right now.  I’d be in Orlando celebrating with Mel, or crashing at my aunt’s in Delaware, laughing it up with Kamilah in Buffalo. Yet here I am simply watching and hearing ‘it’ happen through a series of pictures on the internet.  It is just NOT the same. After staying up until wee hours of the morning and drinking way too much wine in pre – mid – and post celebration, we awoke exhausted but inspired – only to waltz into our respective places at work and adhere to the unwritten Canadian code where we pretend we haven’t been watching (even though it is the only news story broadcasting in the cafeteria), pretend we aren’t thinking about it, that its’ no big deal, not our business and that we do not care.

 

Well I might be the kid in the back seat of the car heading north – but I’m still looking out the rear window – watching …listening for any sounds, scents or sights that I can arrest to use as the nucleus of my fantasies. Long after the top of the Ferris wheel has disappeared behind the hill nearing home, I want to break free.

 

 

God Bless America, and God bless us all.

 

Denise

Little White Riding Hood

 

Once upon a time there was a young woman named Little White Riding hood who went to meet her lovely Grandma for her birthday. So she hopped in her minivan on a weekday afternoon and took a trip from her cozy suburban cemented fortress, through town carrying a basket of goodies. Well. Grandma lived far into the deep, deep Toronto landscape, where it was very, very scary.

 

Where people actually walked on the sidewalks and hung from street posts and from sloped foreheads their eyes menacingly stared. But Little White Riding hood was not afraid, for the most evil, most vengeful creature that dwelled in the thicket of downtown Toronto was not be seen, and she was glad. “I must get out of here by 4:00 as to avoid it.” She told herself.

 So she bravely parked on Parliament St. and locked her vehicle twice to ensure the security features were enabled before heading over to the Regent Park Community Clinic to meet grandma.  At the conclusion of the meeting, Little White Riding Hood proudly took her Grandmother home before beginning the long trek back West. As she got out of the car with her basket, Grandma warned, “Now you know how to avoid the you-know-what. Don’t take the highway – tek the side road and go down past di big tourist house (Casa Loma) and you will be fine. Alright mi dear.” 

“Yes Grandma,” Little White said politely and waves of flying kisses ensued all the way down the street.

She glanced at the clock – and to her surprise it was 4:30! It was too late!  Now poor Little White Riding Hood was doomed to face the monstrosity she was trying to avoid. For there deep through the streets of Toronto it was waiting for her; hungry, panting, perilous. TRAFFIC.  Traffic, the million eyed monster was ten times greater in size than she had ever heard described.

 

“Oh no!” she cried aloud!

 

She looked behind her in panic – looking for a way out. One way sign – a one way sign there…no turning..no parking.. no turning ‘buses’ excepted… it was all an absolute terror. Traffic had her right where it wanted her and began to hunt her down.

 

Oh, how it chased and mocked her – peaking out of every corner lot and side street saying, ‘Where do you think you are going little girl? Home, from seeing grandma?’ it guffawed.

‘Leave me alone!’ Little White cried, ‘You’re not real. You are a figment of my imagination – my worst nightmare – I will get home in an hour’. Traffic laughed a belly aching laugh – oh how it growled as it trailed her down Queen street and up Yonge. It pounced on her in the side streets surrounding U of T. It screeched its rubber footings down Dupont and up Ossington breathing its toxic breath into her lungs as she sat trapped.  It huffed and puffed and hurled twisted steel into her path.  

 

It gave chase until … Annette – where the trees and buildings parted and gave way to … Jane Street. “Hurrah!” she cried – burying her face in the steering wheel. One and a half hours later she was actually able to drive – to put her foot on the gas for more than 10 seconds without hitting the brake and in another half hour later she was safe and sound at home. Little White Riding Hood never drove downtown again. She took the public transit when they were least likely to strike, and she lived happily ever after.

 

The end.

The 9 to 5 workday is dead

 

I don’t think I’ll ever get a ‘crack-berry’. Not only because I will never be important enough for people to email me while I am out of the office, but also as a silent protest to the end of the 9 – 5 workday. I know there are professions that require 24 hour round-the-clock availability. Perhaps a doctor, a paramedic … a soldier… a cop.  I will even admit that entrepreneurs work longer days than the average worker. What I have a problem accepting is the extension of this expectation to the office where workers are expected  to be available at all hours of the day.  Technology has given modern day slave-drivers the excuse to expect their subordinates to hasten the project/task process due to the tools they have been provided, e.g. a laptop. Now the last time I checked, my laptop served two purposes only –

 

1)                  To be able to work from home in the event of an emergency or act of God

2)                  Occasionally finish tasks that could not be completed at work for whatever reason ( such as many useless meetings that took up my time)

 

I am thankful and appreciative for my precious laptop and its conveniences– it does allow for more flexibility; but I leave it at work 99.5% of the time. I figure that if I consistently cannot get my work done during the slotted 7.5 hours, – something else is wrong.  Whether it be a time management or human resource issue – it should be temporary.

 

However, if Suzanne keeps sending me ‘distress’ emails from 11pm-3am during weeknights, and copies the CFO, CEO and all the shareholders, that makes me look about…. 8 hours late when I respond at 9 am the next morning. That’s not right! And why were there responses going on into the wee hours of the morning? I swear these people must have clones. It must be the best kept secret in the new world. “How to excel in your job: Red Bull and its ability to promote Self Cloning”. I did NOT get that memo let me tell you.

 

I am even less impressed that when these tools go ‘missing’ as did my husband’s laptop from his trunk on the way home. He had to cash out RRSPs to replace this precious tool that the workplace did not insure. So let me get this straight. I am going to take this black box home after work (where I stayed late) to plug back into the ‘Matrix’ and ignore my family. ..without being paid overtime – AND when someone steals it from my locked trunk – I have to fork out $2000.00 to get it replaced? Well how about I just…take a vacation for a month without pay, and purchase  a second hand from my brother for a few hundred bucks. That should about even out the cost. I mean for the love of cholera – why in the hell would I ever take my laptop home again?

 

It just worries me as how far this will go. Managers now feel comfortable enough in interviews to ask “Are you looking for a 9-5 , because this is not a 9-5 job…”. I mean there are laws put into place to prevent this…right? Or are there?

 

Back in 1913 work hours were stipulated as follows:

 

The provisions of the Ontario Factory, Shop and Office Building Act of 1913, were typical, whereby:

“The hours of employment are limited as follows: No person of any

of the classes protected by the Act may be employed for more than

ten hours in one day, unless some other arrangement of hours of

labour per day has been made for the sole purpose of giving a shorter

day’s work on such day of the week as may be arranged, and no such

person may be employed for more than sixty hours in any one week.

The hours of labour are not to be earlier than seven o’clock in the

forenoon or later than half past six in a factory, or six o’clock in the

afternoon in a shop, unless a special permit in writing is obtained

from the Inspector (…)”

(Government of Canada Website) ⁽

In recent years,

“Sometimes the law only provides that where the standard workday

or workweek is exceeded, overtime must be paid. But some laws,

in addition to standard hours of work, also provide a legal maximum

number of hours per day or per week, in excess of which an employee

 is not permitted to work.”

(Government of Canada website)

So… what that means exactly is …. If you are working a 60 hr extended ‘volunteer’ workweek, and getting paid a $50k salary – you’re making $16/hr . Oh did I mention you’ll really only be taking home $35k after taxes? That’s right. Oh – I’m sorry – did you say ‘But they are paying for my phone bill?’ Well there you go.  Why don’t you just move into the office and save yourself some cash. No one would notice! Free utilities.. you could order in –just like you did at home because you were too busy working to cook. 

 

If you are confused as to what the problem is, let me clarify.  The work day ends at 5 for most of us – if you know that it ends at five ‘o’ clock, do not send me emails, instant messages or call me at eight or nine or ten or any other ungodly hour to delegate tasks to me. If you must – do not copy our superiors to serve your own self fulfilling need to stand out. If you continue to persist with this ridiculous behaviour, just know that you’re making it more difficult for the rest of us. Why can’t you just pretend to have a life – and shut the phone/laptop off. You’ll be surprised to discover that you still feel important, competent and respected by your peers.

 

This is for you Dre!  :  )

 

Denise

I was going to study but then…

 

And more excuses for the adult student

 

1)         I was going to study. I always study and yet I can’t seem to spot an ‘A’ anywhere on my university transcript. Whose to say I should be surprised? Its not like I’m spending my days toting around campus with my new academic ‘crew’.

 

2)         I am a full time employee, working 5 days a week 9-5. Mother. Wife. Daughter. Granddaughter. Sister. Girlfriend. Student. All in that order. That is what I have going on. I’m grown.  I’ve got stuff to do. So the last thing I need to do is make up excuses for why I didn’t study. Where would I begin?

 

3)         My van broke down and I spent the last week chasing the Mississauga Transit

I borrowed my brother’s lowered eagle talon but I’ve been slowly poisoning myself from Carbon Monoxide inhalation being so low to the ground. I’ve basically been smoking other people’s mufflers for several days. I can’t study under those conditions…

 

4)         My kids wouldn’t give me a break. Every time I asked them to leave me alone the spoke to me even more. They were getting on my nerves – so I had to take them to the mall.

 

5)         My friends came over unexpectedly…you don’t expect me to study and leave them alone do you? What kind of host would I be?

 

6)                  Work gave me too much work to do. I couldn’t study at lunch.

7)                  I was tired and I fell asleep during the last chapter.

                  I didn’t feel like it.

9)                  I had a headache.

10)              I wanted to remember what it felt like to be irresponsible.

 

So there. You can pick and choose any excuse from the bunch – because they are all the truth.  Now i’m going to study. Really.

 

When is it okay to say no at work? -Do you really have a choice?

 

What is the difference between Choice and Delegation?

 

 

“A choice involves a deliberate preference for one course of action over another.”

Choice consists of the mental process of thinking involved with the process of judging the merits of multiple options and selecting one of them for action. Most people regard having choices as a good thing, though a severely limited or artificially restricted choice can lead to discomfort with choosing and possibly, an unsatisfactory outcome.’ Wikipedia

 

‘Delegation (also called deputation) is the assignment of authority and responsibility to another person (normally from a manager to a subordinate) to carry out specific activities. However the person who delegated the work remains accountable for the outcome of the delegate work. ‘ Wikipedia

 

 

Good Example of Delegation

 

Manager:  “ Edith (who we assume is capable ),  I have a report for Marketing due tomorrow, but I have a lot on my plate. What is on your agenda for the next two days?”

 

Edith : “ Well, I have that  monthly summary for you, the website updates and a few campaign communications to create. “

 

Manager “Alright – tell you what, that summary you are working on for me –Lets  push that back– so you can take on this task. Here are the specifics…”

 

Bad Example of Delegation – presented as a Choice

 

Manager:  “ Edith (who we assume is capable ),  I have a report for Marketing due tomorrow, but I have a lot on my plate. Can you take care of this for me?”

 

Edith : “ Well, I have that  monthly summary for you, the website updates and a few campaign communications to create. “

 

Manager “Yeah… I know. It’s quite busy isn’t it? We are all swamped. I will send Marketing an email (pulling up new email as she speaks) to let .. Karlos.. know that Edith… (typing) … will be sending the …. Spreadsheet…over…<send>.” Perfect! So, do you think you can do it …? Thanks.”

 

 

The E.P.E. theory of Negative Assortative Mating

Response to “What do you mean you’re surprised my husband is black”, by Michelle Walker

 

I am not sure that I have any great insight to add to your thought-provoking ruminations more than what we have discussed in the past but I know that it has spurned many more questions at least it has for me.  Sit back folks and strap yourselves in tight its going to be a long & bumpy ride.