It’s all about you – a Choose Your Own Adventure

This is one of the aforementioned posts that I started a while back. In fact, this one dates back to May 21 of last year. It’s taken a slight turn but it still reflects on somewhat similar subjects. I still really need to finish this great piece I started on transgender issues. Someone remind me to do that.

What good is Christmas and the onset of a new year but to reflect of the goings-on from the nearly year gone by? My Christmas presents sucked, but I'm really much more into what I give myself anyway. So 2011, what did I bring myself this year? It’s been a phenomenal year in my professional life; I’ve been promoted twice and successfully headhunted once. In my personal life, I have met some amazing individuals who I hope stay in my life for a very long time and continued building relationships that mean the world to me. I’m never going to be a family girl, but I am spending much more time with my similarly cosmopolitan cousins – it’s a start.

There was a point in the year where I didn’t realize my life was not where I needed it to be, where I was so bored of my own life that I stopped doing so many things that were important to me and going with the motions. I really can see how easy it is to fall into that trap. It’s amazing what a change of scenary can do for one’s perspective.

But I suppose the real reason you’re reading is what may not have gone so smoothly this year. Because let’s face it – those things tend to be more hilarious, and oftentimes (as I’m sure you know from your own experiences) we tend to learn a lot more from when things go wrong rather than right. They say no one writes stories about things that come easy – at least I’m pretty sure Adele isn’t writing songs about it.

Let’s dial back for a second and contextualize – in 2010, as I’ve said before, I went through some rather off-putting phases. More so than the asshole I temporarily allowed myself to be, I did a lot of dumb shit with my dating life. I dated for the sake of the story – and perhaps a modicum of interest in the other person. I wasn’t really doing it for me. The “best” “stories” (all terms used loosely) to come out of that were the i-banker and the Maple Leaf. Subsequently, when it all went bust as expected I decided that I would no longer aim to date men whose selves and careers never permitted them to be what I would want and need from them.

So 2011 rolls around and instead of those bozos, I decide that it’s best to open myself to a Yale law graduate and an Aerospace Engineer with MD aspirations. Did I learn anything from 2010? Womp womp

I make terrific life choices – I have amazing friends, an excellent career trajectory, phenomenal Craigslist roommates, a belief in the Oxford comma, and a liver that hasn’t failed me yet. I’ve been told once – in the presence of another such fantastic woman as myself – that the two of us might come off as conceited. That’s fine, I suppose, because it’s either that or I come off as really self-deprecating, so pick your lesser of two evils?

One place where I do make all kinds of terrible life choices are in my selection of and actions towards potential mates. It can all be broken down into a science. I’ve been told time and time again that I put way too much stake into the way a person rolls out on paper.

And if it’s any indication – first dates are essentially interviews, so isn’t the screening process similar to reading a résumé? This is by far the biggest reason why I, personally, should not (and do not) online date. Frankly, I don’t think I come off the way I’d want to on paper. You’d pretty much have to read this blog to understand how I really come off. And I think one of the aforementioned bozos of 2011 may have done that. (Another story best saved with hand gesticulations in person). But you won't find any hyperlinks to stories about these two boys in future posts. I've decided that writing about them allots them too much time and meaning in my life, which my pride (and good sense) will not allow.

Over the years I’ve also been learning about how to censor myself. And this is rich coming from me who keeps a blog that started that as an unemployment blog and has evolved into a personal recount into my self-misguided adventures in not-so dating. On the upside, two years ago I learned to divulge less at work and separate my personal life from my professional life. In 2010, I learned that people can only change if they want to and thereby are not actually soliciting your good advice, but rather looking for you to agree with their decisions. And this year I’ve learned to say less (truly unimaginable) by not dissecting everything that happens as some kind of life-changing event and trusting my instincts instead.

I think this post is taking me so long to write because I keep changing what I want it to be. I’ve changed the title of this post at least three times. Originally when I first started this post, it was a rant on alpha and beta type males and well researched theories on how this generation of quasi-men has come to be. And then I wished expound on my desire to put a moratorium on the words “douche” and “crazy” (as in, bitches be crazy) because using a blanket term to describe the actions and attitudes of others is lazy and not to mention vague. Not that I no longer have opinions on these subject matters either.

It’s not that I’m becoming a cold person, nor am I becoming a mute. But the decisions I make now are for me – as they always should have been. I don’t care to be judged by others (haters gunna hate), nor do I really require anyone to solve my problems. I firmly believe that deep down we know all the answers to our problems, it’s whether or not we’re motivated enough to actually do anything about it. A thinly-veiled excuse is so much easier than admitting the truth.

I don’t sit around and act puzzled about my not-so dating life. I know exactly why it is the way it is: because I choose for it to be so. It’s like how in university they try to teach you that every drink is a choice, this can be extrapolated to every action is a choice – because it is. You are indeed the master of your own destiny, even if you believe that a god is out there pulling your strings, that same god (whichever one(s) you choose to believe in) gave you choice in the matters and is praying for you to do something with it.

Pretending to do the same thing over and over again expecting a different result is the definition of insanity (I think they say that either Einstein, Twain or Ben Franklin said that first, either which way much greater men than I). I don’t necessarily expect different results, but I know why I repeat the same steps with better and better looking men each time is because I’m not ready to go down that other path. I have years before I’m ready to settle down in any way, so filler until that point just feels a recipe for unnecessary heartbreak. There appears to be an eternity to be settled and live out mundane domesticity, so I’m not going to waste the good years on it.

Through some actual work (which most people are too lazy or afraid to do) I really do know myself and I definitely know what I’m not looking for. This is the reason I don’t give second chances after lacklustre first dates, nor do I particularly feel the need to be the slightest different from who I am. No need to draw out a relationship only for them to cut and run when they figure out they’re not into what you’re actually offering. I’ve also figured out when to cut and run, if I’m in too deep and shouldn’t be. Hindsight being 20/20 as it is, in any case.

It’s been a learning process, making my own mistakes and learning when to heed the sage advice of the wise folk around me. I have built myself a wonderful group of consultants who have helped me shape my perspective and helped my build my gut instinct into what I rely on. To the single girlfriends, married friends, friends with kids, single gays, coupled gays, and the handful of straight men I know – this is my love letter to you. You are the ones who can almost provide all the things I need. I’ve learned how to tell when your boyfriend is lying about being a virgin; how to buy a house, a car and have a wedding all in the same year; how to kill it at in-firm law interviews; how the theoretical hierarchy of gay sex works; and how to raise an amazing seven-year-old daughter – those are all other the checkboxes in life, aren’t they?

One may read this and interpret as me being bitter or hating men, on the contrary – I love men, probably too easily. But instead of going on dates for the sake of free food, I’d rather pay for my own meal in guaranteed great company and be assured that I feel comfortable enough to unbutton the top button of my jeans as a result of overeating that I know I can do around you and also that you aren't looking to go any further down those jeans.

I am actually a firm believer that you are always ready to meet the right person, because the right person happens at the right time. To me, they aren’t mutually exclusive. Oftentimes, however, we mistake being ready to “put yourself out there” as a gateway to meet the wrong people and finding a way to stave off boredom. And my time is worth more than that, as is that person’s. (You see, I’m not always a selfish individual). They say when you know, you know – and hopefully with all the good and bad (flipped into good) I've learned along the way, I’m armed with what I need to see that really clearly.

In the meantime, I may have devised the motto for 2012. We didn’t end up coming up with one for 2011, and somehow still lived. Maybe I’ve zen-ed the fuck out as a result all the yoga I’ve been doing, but I’m going to trust my instincts and believe in that song I thought used to be about me: (Que Sera, Sera) “Whatever will be, will be.”

The future may not be ours to see just yet, but I'm looking for to it. Thanks Doris Day and Peace out 2011.

It's all coming back - we now return to (ir)regularly scheduled programming

It's been a long five months of writer's block. And to be honest, I'm using this forum to clear my writer's block for another writing project I'm undertaking - one that I'm actually on deadline for. More on that later.

I've started several pieces (excellent ones, if I do say so myself) - there's a provocative post on transgender issues; alas they all remain half written. That's the precise reason I stopped reading novels, because I would always get halfway through and become disinterested. This behaviour may be more telling about what I'm about to say more than I originally thought.

Inspiration hits you at random moments, and perhaps this reflects my selfish nature because today's inspiration comes from a wedding I attended this past weekend - likely one of those times I shouldn't be thinking about myself. It was my first "friends" wedding; I've been attending a number of family weddings in the last couple of years (the joy of being the youngest cousin on both sides of the family). It's a different view when I get to pound back shots without my mom hovering somewhere in the background.

It was a lovely wedding - filled with laughter, zero pretension, genuinely happy people and just enough formality to remember what we were all there to celebrate. Don't worry, my ovaries aren't doing a somersault for a baby and I don't suddenly have the urge to go running down the aisle with the next person who rings my doorbell. But it certainly got me to thinking about the people I want standing with me when I do.

Fuck the groom (or bride, you never really know), I haven't quite worked him/her into the picture yet - but what I have given sincere thought to who I would like standing there by my side. I've actually had it figured out since my last year of university; and I gave it some solid reflection this weekend and realized that I wouldn't change a single person in that line up. Not now and hopefully not on that day (when and if it happens).

Sorry if I met you after university and you are an awesome human being (please don't take it personally?). I haven't quite told any of these individuals about their hypothetical role, but I think it takes a wee bit of foresight (and patting of my own back) to know who really matters and why they do.

I'm going through one of those introspective periods of wondering what my interests are, where my values lie and how I'm growing as an individual. (No need to get too excited.) One excellent friend - who may or may not be on that wedding day list - asked me if she felt we were honest enough with each other as friends, and I said that I hoped so. She expressed, in a better-late-than-never way, that she had been really concerned for my behaviour and general demeanour last year.

Hindsight being the 20/20 that is, I can definitely confirm that I was quite the genuine asshole in 2010. At the time, I called it a stabilizing year - where I was learning how to adjust to my better paying job, living on my own in the city. It was a year of trying on a lot of metaphorical hats. It certainly helped me have a lot of stories to tell. Trials and tribulations of being single in a big city led to experiences with interesting and sometimes moderately famous characters to name a few that I decided to write about.

My former co-workers (now good friends) called me out on being a douche all the time and I wouldn't quite disagree, but was also so immersed in it that I am not quite sure I cared. Who wouldn't want to be this "awesome"? (please detect sarcasm) In my defense, however, I was cognizant of it all happening. I created a tag on this blog called "descent into douchedom" to capture said moments. I mentally decided to put an end to it when I cut off my hair back in December and took a solo sojourn to New York City. And you thought quarter-life crises aren't real.

Ten months in, it's been a relatively good year so far. I've done exceptionally well in my career, making a few leaps that have me really feel that I'm really not new to the working world anymore and can't be making bush league mistakes. From the hallowed words of The Devil Wears Prada: "'My personal life is falling apart.' 'That's what happens when you start doing well at work. Let me know when your entire life goes up in smoke: then's it's time for a promotion.'" Nowadays, I have substantially fewer dating stories, but I think I kept that facade going purely to have stories, not because I felt like I was really getting anything out of it. And that's fun at first (crazy fun), but it's so hollow and unfulfilled. In order to actually move forward, I'm going to move a few steps back to re-orient myself to the things that actually matter to me.

We are all on different paths now; we're making up what is normal one day at a time. There are no real benchmarks after they throw you out of school. No one says you should be finished anything within the next four years and I'm damn well going to march to the beat of my own drum. I'm just re-calibrating what that tune might sound like and surround myself with the people who are gracious enough to help bring out the best of what I have to offer. Thank you for your patience, for growing with me and for being willing to come along for the ride.

I'm in repair; I'm not together, but I'm getting there. Oh John Mayer, if only you weren't such a womanizing douche.

Guess who likes you? - Keep calm and carry on

Oftentimes, I get scared that I'm really normal. Which to some sounds like an irrational fear, but that could be because you're really normal. A friend of mine told me that worrying that you're normal means just the opposite. So to me, a healthy dose of worry is just that: healthy.

It's doubtful you have enough time in your day to think about my life. It's okay, I'm not mad - I think about myself enough to last a person a lifetime. But really and truly, the lives of others are so much more fascinating to me.

I'm around me during all the boring parts of my life (so I'm well acquainted with them). However, through the magic that is Facebook, I only get the catch the glimpses of your life that you find interesting enough to share. But most of the time, I don't give two shits about a party you attend and take two photos of yourself then leave. More often than not, I am most interested in the people who are doing something unexpected.

People who pack up their lives and move to wherever in the world amaze me. People who say screw it to their engineering degrees who start all over to become writers motivate me. People who change from science majors to drama to pursue their real passion and not their parent-approved meal ticket inspire me. People who introspectively look inside and make hard decisions to what's really right instead of hiding behind what's easy push me to do the same.

I am so impressed by the people in my life. And not because you're a doctor or lawyer or have an attractive partner. I've always been more about words than pictures, I don't know why that is, so I tend to flip through photo albums less than I do on links that people post on Facebook. Recently I saw an editorial cartoon that spoke to how people turn to their Facebook news feeds as their predominant source of relevant information. The drawing consisted of Farmville posts and other such drabble. However, I'm happy to report that mine thankfully is mostly full of thoughtful links and decent music. I wholeheartedly turn to my minifeed because the things that are important to me, tend to be important to the people I associate with. It just makes sense.

Short story short, I am quite certain that I wrote this entry for a self-serving reason. I am hoping that perhaps in some way, that I also inspire you or push you to feel or think something beyond the everyday. To realize you may have an impact on people by just being who you are. And the focus of what I'm trying to say is that it is a good thing, whether or not you know that I click on your profile every now and then. And I think most of us can find some solace in that. Because Facebook and social networking can make us feel monstrously self-important, but it can also make you feel the most insignificant speck on the planet.

Don't worry though, I like you.

Influenza! 2011 – Even though I didn’t actually vomit, here is some word vomit I came up with while I was sick

I have the flu. Well I had it; I’d like to say that I’ve sufficiently kicked its ass, alas it has owned mine. I haven’t been this sick since the last week of classes in undergrad after running out of my house without a coat on at the tail end of March to sprint to my research lab where I was running a test early in the morning after my grad formal. Bad idea. I was bed-ridden for the week. You see, I only get sick once every three years, and when I do, it isn’t the sniffles.

This time around I’ve been trapped (self-imposed quarantine, minus my poor housemates, the numerous delivery men who brought me food and the brave/kind souls who dared enter) in my house for three days and it wasn’t pretty. I’ve gone through all the sweats I have, pretty soon I’d have to start lounging around in cocktail dresses. My two major accomplishments for the day were sweeping the stairs and taking out a bag of recycling. Only then did I notice it was snowing and that I was forming an ass grove in my custom built Urban Barn Nest Chair.

So I decided that I had been cooped up far too long, and probably as a result of my cabin fevered stupor – it seemed like a brilliant idea to go outside in a snowstorm with the last traces of the flu going through my system. (I will let you know how it pans out, but as of right now I’m still coughing.) It took me pretty well half an hour to walk up to Queen Street and back with the blowing winds and ice particles that stuck to my nose and eyelashes.

And still the creatures of Saturday night pounce strong and I remember when I used to go out bare legged in snowstorms too. (Another fine way to catch the flu) And I’m not one of those people who laughs at the youths or thinks I’m above any of it, but I have been there and done it. Though it did remind me of how I’m matured as a bar star.

In the latter half of 2008 I threw a lot of elbows in bars, maybe because those bars were in the realms of Lot 332, Cantina Charlie’s (I have no idea what name-of-the-week that place is on now) and one highly unfortunate new years at The Courthouse. It’s not my fault all those people from Barrie kept getting in my way. And just last week I stopped a fight from going down by simmering the situation down to merely a misunderstanding and really everyone was just dancing and having fun. I hope someone up there is polishing my halo for sainthood; I’m getting there.

Speaking of getting there, after such a lengthy exposition I should actually get to my point. Other than the fact that in three years my essay writing skills have not improved. 2011 has been really boring so far. Okay fine, Egypt, Libya and heaven forbid Charlie Sheen notwithstanding. We’re one-sixth of the way in (and I still haven’t bought my Moleskine agenda yet, may as well give up on it – it does make me a freak for remembering dates though), still I just don’t know how I feel about this year yet.

A friend of mine told me we can’t compare where we were last year to where we are this year because it’s completely unfair. Perhaps that’s easy for her to say, she went from finishing her masters to finishing her first year of medical school. That’s a pretty big change. On the contrary, I live in the same place (which I love), I’m in the same job, and I’m still swinging single with only the hilarious tales of wacky hijinks that people are used to me telling. Even still, 2011 has provided me with few hijinks thus far. And perhaps even I’m getting to a point where the wackiness isn’t even sustaining me anymore. Just like this girl traded in her bar fights, she might also be considering giving up crazy dating stories.

A different friend of mine says I’m late adapter to change; I think (and hope) he means mostly in the technological realm. I’m not into 3D movies, it took “forever” for me to get a cellphone and have only recently switched to a Smartphone, for which I refuse to pay for a data plan, which makes it essentially useless. Maybe what I actually dislike is unplanned change. Wow, that makes me sound completely non-spontaneous. I go with the flow (for the most part), but less so with major life decisions.

Truth be told, I’m really anxious to go into work tomorrow. I’ve been out for two days with the flu and my business director is back from a week-long Caribbean vacation and I’ve made that can’t-take-it-back/fight-or-flight decision of should I stay or should I go? The Clash couldn’t feel more poetic at this juncture. Yes, tomorrow will be awkward. I didn’t really plan this, so I guess this is why I’m feeling really scared. And it’s hard for me to admit anything less than perfection, so you can have it here in writing that I’m scared of stuff.

I guess I’ll let you know how it goes. Stay tuned for the resolution of Influenza! 2011.

Shiny Happy People or: How I [Haven’t] Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Bomb

In the spirit of the Oscars and the more deserving Razzie awards coming up, I would like to nominate myself for best and worst actress. Growing up in a Chinese family and as a mutually exclusive event professional, I am really good at covering up my emotions and pretending everything is okay. On the contrary, as a terrible poker player and an anti-botox individual who can still move her forehead – it is not hard to read emotion from my face. Furthermore, as a person who can very much dictate the feel of a room (I’m just that good), you can always tell when I’m off my A-game. Mostly because you’ll be able to hear yourself think without the sound of my inane anecdotes.

Ways to know I’m not at my best:

· I wore a sweater and opaque tights to a bar (sequined mini-skirt and five inch heels in check – I’m not a monster)

· I bought a pair of jeans for 80% off and the thrill of the buy just wasn't there

· I’m doing free weight reps under 15 lbs at the gym and I hate my 5 K time

· I don’t have a single international trip planned yet for this year

I have this bottle of Moet & Chandon in a decorative box that I bought in the Hong Kong airport duty free while confusedly searching for the Marc by Marc Jacobs store (which is one of those inane anecdotes I can share with you if you’re interested). I came back from my Asiatic adventure in July 2010 and I planned to pop that bottle when I got promoted or when other awesomely life altering news took place. Well – it’s been about half a year now and the box remains sealed. It used to be a beacon of something to work towards, but now it just stoically stands there sandwiched between a bottle of Jergens lotion and a box of tissues. [Upon re-examination of the latter half of this sentence makes me sound like a pubescent boy.]

Maybe it’s ennui and lack of motivation; perhaps it’s always a feeling that’s there, however cleverly clouded by the distractions of fancy-free and tumultuous lifestyle. I get bored really easily – and two things happen when I get bored: 1. I cut off my hair 2. I make self-destructive moves oftentimes with men/boys/manboys whatever they’re passing themselves off as these days. Well now since I cut off my hair, there’s only option the second left.

Every now and then I consider starting an online dating profile, as the kids these days tell me it’s all the rage. I keep sifting through pictures of myself (on Facebook naturally) and very few are really what I look like now because I keep changing my look so often and am not one of those people (surprisingly) who photographs themselves all the time. I don’t even have the attention span to start an online dating profile. As a result, I start recycling old habits, which though perhaps good for the environment – not really the solution to my current state of malaise.

For the girl who plans everything, it all feels a bit loosey-goosey. But the thing is, I already know the answers. Everything can be settled with the following 5 steps:

1. Shut up and get over yourself
2. Flee the country (temporarily) and regroup
3. Take the steps you need to reach your goals (BOD, GMAT)
4. Set deadlines
5. Pop the bottle of Moet then replace with Laurent-Perrier

Foreign places and not-so foreign memories

As my mind will one day wither to mush, I want to remember the moments that may mean little to you, but a lot of me and the people they took place with. I like my life best when I'm carefree and seeing the world on my own terms.

In chronological order, here is a list of eleven moments (oftentimes in quote form) from my travels around the world. On a cold winter's evening, it can be good to bask in the warm moments that excite you for the international adventures that 2011 may bring.

1. "Stop Tappan zee bridge." - The Wong family road trip to NYC to ring in the NYE '06.
2. "Off you go." - Herstmonceux Castle, England, May 2006: Happy Birthday Jayme Boyd.
3. Sister Jackie Chan & "Cheapy, cheapy: almost free" - Puerto Plata, Dominican Republic, Feb 2008
4. The beautiful Italian photographer taking a break from shooting a wedding party, drinking from a fountain on a street in Rome by the Forum - July 2008
5. Gord Nixon's son (whose name I don't remember and the UES apartment I will never see) - NYC, May 2009
6. Outdoor raves at the foot of Citadel hill - Budapest, Hungary, July 2009
7. "I will kill your family." Cliff diving in Ios, Greece, August 2009
8. Accidentally being elbow in the breast and laughing for a solid thirty seconds in hilarious pain while the girl behind the information desk awkward chuckles along - Akihabara station, Tokyo, June 2010
9. Sitting on a park bench outside of the Hanoi Botanical Garden after refusing to pay 15,000 dong (<$1 CAD) to enter and watching people jog in 45+ degree weather. Then being confronted by what I think is a Vietnamese prosti-tot chewing sunflower seeds - Hanoi, Vietnam, July 2010
10. Sprinting through the Venetian in record time. That's two Venetian resorts and not one trip yet to Venice proper - Macau, China (?) July 2010
11. The Sunday pool party at the Shore Club; it's like being on a reality show made of douche - South Beach, Miami, September 2010

Where are we going this year?

It’s my first day – Trust me, I’m a gym major with a science degree, who works in pharmaceutical marketing, but one day will be the CEO of a hospital.

I hate having trouble sleeping on a Sunday night. It does shitty things to your Monday morning and sets the week off to a bad start. Just to let you know, this blog will be about education. Yes, it’s about time I started using my brain again. And this time it was completely my choice. No one made me go to school – so all this pain, which is hopefully to my gain, is completely my fault. Like all those other things in life.

Sad to say, this blog won’t be about dating – or rather, my sometimes less than delightful forays. It’s been a slow January, even if the year started off with a bang. (I’ll leave that one up to you.) Alas, no NHL players or celebrities to speak of; in spite of my vehement exclamations that I will date Drake, hanging around Goodnight and ordering many Latin Lovers (tequila abstainers need not apply), which accordingly is his favourite drink.

Nay, fill one void with the next I suppose. And nothing could be nobler than education, am I wrong? (Yes) So I’ve launched myself back into the willing arms (and pocketbook) of higher education. You too may enroll in a certificate course in Medical and Scientific Challenges of Marketing of New Therapeutics for the cool price of a sweet two g’s.

It was my first day of school last Thursday. Peeling myself away from my desk at 5 pm is very difficult as it never seems there is enough time in the work day as it is. Though the benefit of printing all my notes at work is a definite plus, given that’s as much as my workplace is contributing to this course. I may have to scam a few extra pens or staplers to express my feelings on that subject.

I’m still not officially a U of T student (thank goodness), but it certainly is overwhelming, in a complete reverse culture shock kind of way, how diverse U of T is. Coming from the gym major (where my year had 3.5 Asians, the half knows who she is and is okay with it) at Queen’s University (which rhymes with Culture of Whiteness) it really is a weird kick in the face. Other than ethnic diversity there is also diversity in educational/professional background.

To start, the course itself is part of the Masters of Biotechnology program which is a professional program, similar to an MBA, just much more specialized. The course is also an elective for people in graduate studies in pharmacy/pharmaceuticals. And then there’s me – I’m a “professional” with a life sciences background (and/or gym major). The thought of being considered a professional oftentimes seems laughable to me.

I was a bit nervous to go back to school; similar to anything that you haven’t done in a while and aren’t too particularly good at, some anxiety comes along with it. (Does anyone else feel that way about driving or is that something about me being an Asian female driver?) What if the kids are mean? What if they’re entirely juvenile? What if they’re all wearing sweatpants?

Well, as I’ve learned from the working world, you never really leave high school. It’s going to be the same old shit forever. Sorry kids who weren’t popular in high school; I don’t know what to tell you. MTV’s “I Used to be Fat” is wrong: who you are in high school does follow you. It’s tough when you show up to a class (regardless of whether it’s at the masters level) in work wear. Knowingly, I could have changed my outfit, but a little part of me always likes being different. After all, I never wore sweat pants to my gym classes.

During the intermission (of a three hour class) I went to the bathroom and the door leading into the bathroom hallway locks you out after you exit. I know now that apparently you can go all the way around and come back through the front door, but that didn’t help then. I tugged at the door with a large window a few times – once to see that it was locked, twice to illustrate to the people inside that I wasn’t able to get back in and once more for full effect. Several people stared at me blank faced. I pointed to the doorknob, gave my best forlorn look and finally a girl push the bar of the door from the inside. I uttered a thank you and didn't hear anything in return. Oh well. Everyone in the class sort of knows each other in their own small little groups. Luckily I do have one friend in the class, or else I’d feel like an island. I’m sure this will pass; I’m like a parasite – I will worm my way into your heart and lay eggs in it.

I’m not sure how to feel about my prof just yet. He definitely likes to casually drop in all of his accomplishments and experiences, which to be fair are aplenty. However, I thoroughly enjoy his sense of blunt realism. The realities of the job market are not friendly to those who have been safely nestled away in the world of research for the past seven years. The inability to sell is a mighty fault one must overcome in order to be successful. Well then by all rights I should be okay!

Historically, I’m not one to speak much in class. In an academic setting I don’t much care to speak purely to be heard. (In a non-academic setting though, game on.) And maybe they were the first two questions of the course, but the answers seem so devilishly obvious to me, I was sure that I was wrong.

Question the first: why is it bad to be overqualified? I forget what people put up their hands and said. But I knew the answer was – because the company worries you’ll get bored after they invest time in training you, you leave and they have to re-hire. Answer: it’s a cost and the fact that you might leave sooner, rather than later, is seen as a risk.

Question the second: what’s the best kind of drug? Answer: one that people have to be on forever. It’s the most profitable .Yes sir, life is not beautiful sometimes. There are many bottom lines out there – and not all of them are about cures and happiness and rainbows and butterflies.

Are you there higher education? It’s me, Sarah. Bring it.

The musical of our lives - 525,600 minutes, how do you measure a year in the life?

I want to tell you about how terrible my life is: it’s 2:45 pm (5 o’clock somewhere) on a Saturday and I’m drinking an Ontario Cabernet Merlot out a Spigelau glass sitting in the Norma Ridley Members’ Lounge at the Art Gallery of Ontario. Allow me to tell you that it has many leather-bound books and smells of rich mahogany.

I’m a pretentious asshole. I know that; you very likely know that. But life hasn’t always been like this. Nor will always be it either, but this is how I’ve shaped my life for now and I am not going to apologize for it.

Over the Christmas break, I met up with some friends I hadn’t seen in a while. When asked what I was doing one Thursday night I replied, “I’m going to hang out with my Asian friends…in Markham…to sing karaoke.” I would have received a similar response had I said that I was going to join a motorcycle gang, swim the English Channel and bang heroin into my veins.

It was a highly enjoyable evening; put a mic in my hands and only danger can ensue. Somewhere beneath my uncharacteristically ample chest lies a bonafide Asian. There was a variety of ages at this gathering, which really refers to students and non-students/young professionals. If there was something glaringly obvious it was that everyone who had graduated and was now working is that we’ve all gained a noticeable amount of weight. Sitting at a desk for 8+ hours a day doesn’t seem to be doing anyone justice. For me, anyway, I know I’m drinking way more now than I was in undergrad. Certainly, I didn’t day drink as much as I do now.

This descent to douchedom has come gradually, let me assure you. With each year after graduation passing by, life is no longer measured from September to April, but rather on the fiscal year. Back in fourth year, my housemate/Facebook wife came up with a slogan for the year going into 2008. It was that everything’s going to be okay. In a time nearing graduation and what would be the next step, we’d be thrust into a world of the unknown. Uncertainty and the safe cocoon that was university would be ripped from us come April. Graduate studies at that time weren’t in the cards for us, so we would venture off and try our hand at a new experience in the working world.

Of the four residents of 242 University Avenue, it would take me the longest to find a job out of the gate in September 2008. And yes, minus the disastrous ring in of 2009 at the never-again Courthouse (the last time I will ever go to a club for New Years Eve), everything was, in fact, okay in 2008.

The 2009 mantra was that it’s a learning experience. All of us were in our first jobs (where we weren’t student managers) and learning about the intricacies of industry and perhaps not always being the best of the best and being praised for all that we do. It also ended my contract with the Multiple Sclerosis Society, which was a huge blessing because it allowed (and forced) me to go out and find something to explore what I really might want to do. It took me some time, but by the end of December I had landed in a full-time gig and had totally lucked out with my Craiglist roommates in the heart of yuppy-ville on King West. I rang in 2010 in my new home surrounded by people (and booze) I love.

2010 was the year of yes we can. It may be been a little two thousand and late after Obama, but it didn’t stop it from ringing true. Half of 242 started new jobs that were a better fit in banking and advertising; the other half started new grad programs in public health and law. For me, it was a stabilizing year – hitting my stride as weasel-y Pete Campbell in Accounts, re-discovering ways to love my city, really feeling at home in my home and continuing to forge strong relationships with my friends who are my family.

Yes it’s been winding and uncertain path to where I’m sitting now, staring out the window at this first big snowfall of the year. In hindsight and in brief it may look like it was easy, but if my life is douchey to you, rest assured it hasn’t been a walk in the park to get here. Like anyone’s life, there have been ups and downs, laughter and tears – we all know I’m a sucker for a story. Travel has been my love and since graduating I’ve been to London, Spain, Italy, New York, Vegas, Cuba, New York, Austria, Germany, Czech Republic, Hungary, Greece, New York, Japan, Vietnam, Cambodia, Hong Kong, Chicago, Miami and New York. So believe me, there is definitely life after graduation on your own dime. It’s what’s been waiting for you all this time. If you want it – go get it.

I’ve screwed up enough times to lose count, but like Chumbawumba has taught me: I get knocked down, but I get up again, because you’re never going to keep me down. We haven’t quite worked out the mantra for 2011 yet. Other than my resolution to acquire the taste of gin (which I swear I’m working on), I’m secretly kind of lobbying for the mantra “grab life by the balls” or “kick ass and take names”. I understand how privileged I am and am eternally grateful for the beautiful souls in my life. I fondly welcome my 24^th year of existence with daylights, sunsets, midnights and cups of coffee.