Froot Loop Induced Confessions

Froot Loops will cure anything.

OK well I admit that this theory is obviously flawed but right now it feels like they’re helping me.

I’m onto my second day in bed sick.  And I’m bored.  And I’m tired.  And I want my energy back.

It started off with an aching body but last night I spent an hour lying on the bathroom floor with sweat dripping off me like I’d run a half marathon.  That just sounds sexy doesn’t it?  Am I setting the mood for you?

Anyway, when I woke this morning I decided that the one thing I wanted to eat today was Froot Loops.

I managed to pull some clothes on around lunch time and make my way to the store.  My hands were shaking as I walked around and grabbed the few necessities and I was slightly embarrassed at the checkout as I purchased my incredibly unhealthy treat.

I don’t remember the last time I ate the little rings of colourful sugar but I tell you they smell and taste just as I remember.  And I love them now just as much as I loved them as a child.

Having this much time in bed has allowed me to watch documentaries.  Literally almost back to back documentaries for 3 days now.  I started off wanting to watch the 2013 Academy Award nominated documentaries and then started looking at previous years and then I trolled through Netflix.  I have an obsession with docos.  I took a course on documentary making at the Sydney University many years ago.  I don’t remember much but I do remember Paul Keatings’ two daughters being in the class with me.

I’ll put up a list of documentaries that I think are worth while watching.

My favourite documentaries are about crimes and the people who commit them.  I’m intrigued as to what makes people do the things they do.  How did they get to being in the situation they’re in, making the clearly, very bad decisions which lead to death, prison, unhappiness and hurting the people they love.

Maybe I am so intrigued because I’ve never really broken the rules.  As a kid I always did as I was told, I was not the black sheep of the family at all.  I was the good daughter.  If you know my family you’ll agree with me that my brother was and still is the black sheep.  And it’s not that I’m the white sheep ... I’m not even a sheep, I’m like a bull in a china shop, a polar bear and a pink and grey galah.  Painful, rare and free.

But I have done a couple of things that were naughty as a child, teenager, adult.

So here’s my sugar induced confession.

When I was about 9 my brother and I played ball in the house and broke the ear off one of my Mom’s tiny porcelain cats from her collection.  We never admitted to it but apparently she knew anyway.

When I was 14 my friend and her family lived over the back fence.  Her Dad and Uncles smoked and she used to sneak out tobacco and rolling paper and we would smoke rollie cigarettes over the fence near the chook (chicken) shed.

When I was 21 some friends and I stole a street sign and I drove around with it in the back of my car for a few days but I felt so guilty and was convinced I was going to get stopped by the police for a random boot (trunk) inspection that I took it back.

When I was 29 a friend and I were walking home from the pub sharing a bottle of pink champagne, because that’s what tough girls drink!  We were stopped by the police only metres from the house and when they queried as to whether we were drinking (street drinking is illegal in Australia) my automatic response was to lie.  But my friend, who I thought was hard core, confessed, she rolled over to the cops and they made us tip out a perfectly good bottle of $16 champagne.

And that’s it.  That’s about as bad as it gets for me.

Well actually that’s as much as I’m going to confess right now.  I guess you have to get to know me more before I give up all my secrets.

... onto my second bowl of Froot Loops.

in-teg-ri-ty

Today someone paid me a compliment.

He said … “we need more people like you Shannan, people who tell the truth and fight for what’s right and push people to see what they sometimes don’t want to see”.

And I said to him “but people like me don’t go far in places like this”.

And he just shrugged and smiled.

In a world where people are trying to get by and get higher and bigger and better and richer by lying and cheating and stepping on other peoples feelings there are few of us who are willing to work hard, tell the truth and stick with it.

So many of us lose our integrity on a daily basis.  And I guess I’m not willing to lose mine.

In times like this I have to think of Job from the bible.  Yes, I’m going to quote the bible … are you ready for this?  And if you’re a theologian just shush because I’m going to use some major creative story telling license here.

Job (pronounced Jobe) was a good man.  He worked really hard and he praised God always.  His life was bountiful!

One day Satan and God passed each other so they had a chat.  And God said “Have you seen my mate Job?  He’s honest and true and hardworking and devoted and he hates evil”.

And Satan said “You know God, Job only praises you because he has all that land and cattle and all those healthy children and because his life is so good, you protect him.  But if you were to take it all away he would curse you”.

And God said “No way man, Job is a good guy and I reckon if he’s tested he’ll come up trumps”.

So Satan destroys everything of Job’s!  His 500 oxen, 500 donkeys, 7000 sheep, and 3000 camels.  Then to top it off Satan kills all ten of Job’s kids.

And sure enough Job doesn’t curse God.  Of course he’s upset.  He’s horrified and grieving and feeling completely wretched.  But he knows that God hasn’t killed his family or his animals.

But still that’s not enough for Satan (because he’s a giant jackass), so he goes back to God and says “Let me hurt him”.

And God says “Well alright, but you can’t kill him”.

So Satan smites (yes, SMITES) Job and he gets boils all over his body.  He’s in terrible pain and he’s all scabby and oozing puss, it’s totally gross.  And his wife tells him to curse God.  But Job says “Don’t be a bloody foolish woman, how can I only accept the good days from God and not also the bad days?”

Still Job didn’t curse God.  He kept his integrity.  He still loved God and hated evil.

Anyway the story goes on and on and on but in the end Job is rewarded for his devotion and his steadfastness.  In fact he lives for another 140 years, has another 10 kids and gets twice as many livestock as before.  And his daughters (there were 3 of them) were the most beautiful in the land!

I guess all of that just to tell you that there are good days and there are bad days.  And some days the bad days suck a lot!  And some days it feels like the bad guys are winning.

But whether you believe in God or karma or retribution.  Know that what goes around comes around.  

And it may not happen today or tomorrow but your hard work and honesty will pay off.  Stay strong, don’t lose your integrity, fight the good fight.

The liars and the cheaters and the morally corrupt people of the world will get what’s coming to them.  And if it’s not in this life it will certainly be in the next.

Amen

I've been on a date ...

I’ve been on a date where the most exciting thing was the soup I ordered.

I’ve been on a date where I was so nervous that at the end of the night when he went to hug me I forgot where to put my arms so in the end I just clutched them to my chest and let him wrap his arms around me.

I’ve been on a date and gotten so drunk that I talked about the most inappropriate things possible.  Strangely this guy asked for another date.

I’ve been on a date where the guy wouldn’t pick where he wanted to take me so I just walked away from him and left him standing in the street alone.

I’ve been on a date with a guy that was so conceited that he told me that getting his MBA was easy and that I should do it too. 

I’ve been on a date and the guy told me “I’m really ****ing broke right now”.

I’ve been on a date with a guy that looked NOTHING like his profile picture online.

I’ve been on a date and been so uninterested in the guy that when he offered to take me to Whistler & teach me how to ski I couldn't even sugar coat my response of "NO don't bother".

I’ve been on a date where the guy made me do so much walking my legs hurt for the next 3 days.

I’ve been on a date and 10 seconds after meeting the guy I’ve known that I had no desire to meet him again.

I’ve been on a date and the guy expensed our meal on his work credit card & then told me that's what he was doing.

I've been on a date and it was so good that I went home & told my flatmates it was the best first date ever.  And then the next day the guy told me he was moving away.

I’ve been on a date where I’ve excused myself to go to the washroom so I could message a different guy. 

I've been on a date and the guy was telling me about his lactose intolerance and his explanation ended in “... and then I get diorrhoea”.

A lesson on passive aggressiveness, subtleties and how my mouth almost ruined Christmas

Two Christmas’s ago I went to New York with 2 very close friends of mine.  One of my friends, Guy, I had known for 10 years and we had developed a really special friendship where we both adored each other equally.

On our second day in the big apple I made a flippant smart ass comment to him.  Seriously, it wasn’t much at all.  But somehow it struck a chord with Guy.

I don’t know exactly how much later it was, I’m sure it was about 3 hours and I noticed him acting funny.

He was walking ahead of me quite a way and at times on the other side of the road.  He was having whispered conversations with our other friend and at one point I caught up to them and said “shall we stop for a coffee, we’re in the village?”.  And his response was a very harsh “No I don’t want coffee”.

Because I don’t really understand subtle hints this behavior went on longer until I stopped him and said “is everything alright?”

For a moment he didn’t want to tell me and then reluctantly he said “what you said to me earlier ...”

And I knew straight away, I knew exactly what it was that I’d said that would have upset him without him even having to tell me.

“Oh that, I was just being silly, you know I didn’t really mean it, I was just being bitchy”.

But he wouldn’t have it.  His feelings had been hurt.  I had struck a nerve and my comments had stung him.

In times like these I’m generally really good at using my words to bring things around again, to calm people down, to help move things along, to diffuse a situation.

But he wouldn’t have it.  He wouldn’t talk about what I’d said and he certainly wouldn’t talk about how it made him feel.

But the passive aggressiveness continued.  The anger, the walking away, the ignoring.

I couldn’t take it any longer.  I left my friends, telling them I’d meet up with them later.  I thought some time apart would do him good.

Unfortunately while I was wandering the streets alone, I. GOT. ANGRY.

How DARE someone treat me like that.

How DARE he be so over the top about that small comment.

How DARE he ignore me.

I was just a big bundle of anger stomping my way around the city cursing him under my breath.

I decided that I had been wronged, that he had treated me badly and that I would finish my holiday on my own, that I would find somewhere else to stay and that they could do their thing and I would do mine.

When we met up later he didn’t talk to me.  We sat in the theatre watching a musical, with our friend in between us and he didn’t speak to me.  In the interval, nothing.  As we were watching the show a tear trickled down my cheek (I know, I know, I’m pathetic).  

How had something that was meant to be so good somehow turned out so bad and all because of my stupid mouth.

Sometime later in the night in our tiny hotel room around the corner from Times Square, while our friend was in the shower, Guy and I finally had a conversation.  I apologised for my cutting remark but I also shared how upset I had been that he had treated me that way.

And even though we ‘made up’, my feelings were hurt and they continued to hurt for the remainder of our NYC holiday.

This past week I tried my hand at passive aggressiveness.  I tried ignoring someone - giving them the cold shoulder.  I think I lasted 3 days.  It wasn’t as hard as I thought it would be.  And I felt that I was right in ignoring this person.

Although ignoring someone on facebook is much easier than ignoring them in real life.  And the person I was ignoring probably had no idea so my passive aggressiveness was wasted!

But the reality is that I’m a talker not an ignorer.  I’d much rather talk things through, discuss both sides and move on.

I want to know why people feel a certain way, why do they think that their opinion is the right one.  Why are they angry about a certain subject.  And why did they make that comment that hurt my feelings.

And I want them to understand how I feel, where I’m coming from, why I’m hurting.  They may not care but shouldn’t they respect it?

And I know some people think I could be more subtle.

That I could be less direct or tone down my honesty.

That maybe I could watch what comes out of my mouth.

And this is true.

Perhaps paying out on my new Big boss for being a yank isn’t the wisest idea.

Or calling my japanese friend Pam, ‘Generic Asian Lady’, or making fun of my swedish manager by making her do the ‘swiss chef from the muppets’ impression.

Perhaps yelling at my boss and shaking my finger at him and calling him out on his management skills wasn’t the smartest move.

But I have to think that somehow, by the people that matter, my honesty is appreciated.  That my big mouth that only speaks the truth (lol) will be embraced by those that really matter.

And for those that don’t appreciate it or embrace it or love me regardless of ALL the faux pas I make (and I make a lot)  You can get back on the white horse you rode in on and ....... Go away.

P.s. Passive aggressiveness sucks.  Don’t do it.  It’s horrible and mean and nasty.  I’m going to get some t-shirts made up that say ‘screw you passive aggressiveness’.  Email if you want one.

I'll tell you what I want, what I really really want

In the past when all my girlfriends were single they would sit around and talk about the kind of guy they were looking for.

Sometimes the lists were quite extensive.  Tall, blonde, great job, sexy car, own property, great relationship with parents and good taste in jewelry.

Did they want their future partners to be sensitive, attentive to their needs, to buy them flowers every week, to get them a hot water bottle and rub their back when they had period pain?

For me I’d never thought about any of these things.  I had no idea what I had to offer in a relationship so what did I know about what I was looking for?

After dipping my tootsies into the dating pool I’ve had a think about it and narrowed it down to this:

I want a man who is funny!  And I know ALL girls say this but I’m serious, my guy has to be able to bring some serious A+ witty banter to the table.

He must also be forceful, not in a ‘I’m going to smash you in the face’ kind of way, but a ‘I know what I want and I’m going to get it’ way.

And that’s it.

That’s all I’m looking for.

And then there was Pete.  The absolute opposite of what I’ve just said I wanted.

Pete was in his early 40s, cute, well traveled and THOUGHT he was witty, he THOUGHT he could keep up with me, he THOUGHT he was direct.  And that was where the problem was.

We met online and when we first started emailing he seemed sweet and sort of interesting.  There was a little wit to start with but I thought maybe it might grow and develop when he realized what I was like.

It didn’t.

I don’t do subtle.  And I’m direct.

I used those exact words to Pete in an email hoping it might encourage him to stop being such a Nancy.

I don’t know why I didn’t finish it with him earlier than I did but perhaps I was hoping it would get better or maybe I was just appreciating the attention of a man.

Alarm bells started ringing for me when he found it difficult to ask for my number.  He sort of tried to subtly suggest we should talk about our travels but never asked for my number.  I mean, come on Pete, we’re both on online dating and we’ve emailed back and forth a bunch of times, we have nothing to be coy about.  Clearly I’m not going to shoot you down so be a man and ask a chick for her number!

I have to admit that I didn’t make it easy for him.  My response was to tell him that if he wanted to swap travel stories then he had to ACTUALLY ask for my number.

He thought I was being funny and not picking up on his subtlety.  

*sigh* Did I not just tell you I don’t do subtle?

So he gets my number and he texts me.  And in his first text he referred to me in the third person.  Yes, I said third person.

“What is Shannan doing?”

DING DING DING DING do you hear those alarm bells?  Sheeesh!

But no, I kept plodding on thinking I could handle it.

But the clincher was when he couldn’t ask me on a date.

Seriously?  We’ve emailed, you’ve got my number, one would suspect that I was interested and wanting to meet you and STILL you can’t ask me out?

Men, for future reference this is not the way to ask me out.

“I wonder what your schedule is like this week”.  That was it, that was him asking me out!

You wonder?  You WONDER?  You’re going to be wondering a while mate, but if you actually ask me a question you’ll get an answer a lot quicker!

Foolishly I agreed to go on a date with him - after I forced him to ask me out properly.

In the end I never ended up meeting Pete.  It was too hard.  I knew that it wouldn’t work and that I was wasting not only my time but also his.  I knew what I wanted and it wasn’t Pete.  And I didn’t want to be one of those girls that dates just for practice or to get a free drink and a meal and have a guy fawn over her.

I’m sure Pete is a lovely guy.  He was sweet.  Very sweet.  That’s the only thing I could say about him.  But sweet just isn’t enough.  For me sweet is like a bonus, like the cherry on top of the sundae.  The sundae is really the best bit, it’s why I’ve bought it.  There’s all that delicious ice cream and hot fudge sauce and a few nuts.  And on the top there’s a cute red cherry.  It looks great but it’s only a teeny tiny part of the sundae.  And to be honest I don’t like cherries anyway!

And I’m sure there is some girl out there that will lap up Pete’s shy, sweet demeanor.  A girl who would love a whole bowl full of cherries.  But it’s not this girl.  No SireeBob!

An Anniversary

For as long as I’ve been alive my parents have lived in the same house.  Before they built on the land it was an orchard and when I was growing up my parents used to make me pick up thousands of rotten plums that had fallen off the trees (to this day I’ve never eaten a plum).  It is the only home I’ve ever known.  The carpet in my bedroom is still the original carpet - it’s a lovely dark brown colour, very 1970s.

Home is a safe place for me.  I can come home and sleep in my old bedroom in my old bed (a bed I used to imagine murderers were hiding under) and know that nothing really changes.

Thinking about my home brings up so many memories.  In the summertime I think about my parents garden and the smell of blossoms, the chooks scratching through the garden, Aussie the dog snoozing lazily under a chair outside and I think about my beautiful mother.

In a few days it will be 5 years since she passed away and it sort of feels like a milestone.

On the first anniversary of her death I was in Ireland.  I climbed up to the top of Blarney Castle to kiss the Blarney Stone.  It was an icy cold day and climbing up the castle stairs was made harder by the wet slippery stones and the narrowness of the stairways.

When I got to the top I marched forward to the edge of the castle, I looked down and smiled, sucked in my breath and turned to the 2 old Irish men who helped me lie down and tip me backwards to kiss the stone.

Later that night I was in a gorgeous snuggly pub in the countryside.  There was a roaring peat fire and I was drinking Guinness and listening to a man sing traditional Irish songs that made you want to cry.  And so I did.  Shamefully I cried in public.

But other years I’ve been completely ok and I’ve spent the day praying, not for my mother or my family or myself, but for those living with cancer or those who were dying.

Last year I was in Chicago and I bought 2 pairs of shoes.  Somehow that felt like the right thing to do.

And this year I will be on a plane touching back down in Vancouver after a 3 week holiday in Australia.

I have to admit that I’m glad I won’t be in Australia for the anniversary.  Somehow I think my Mom would be pleased to know that I got out and I’m doing the thing that makes both me, and made her, the happiest; and that’s traveling, experiencing new cultures, meeting new people and learning as much as I can.

On a side note, kissing the Blarney Stone is said to give the ‘kisser’ the gift of the gab.  Now I’m not sure if that’s true or not but I once talked my way out of a parking ticket by explaining that a ‘No Standing’ sign surely couldn’t be applicable to my parked car because my car wasn’t standing it was parked!  The parking inspector laughed so hard at my ridiculous theory that he had to let me go without a fine.  Unfortunately I have not been able to talk my way out of a speeding ticket ... Yet!

The Beginning

I once went on a date with a guy that was so hot I had to excuse myself to go to the washroom and stare at myself in the mirror in amazement that someone so attractive would go on a date with me.

Then there was the guy who lost interest in me when he found out that I couldn’t ski or snowboard and wasn’t a heavy drinker.

And let’s not get started on the blinking magician.  That is, a magician who blinked a lot!

Or the crazy guy who talked about wet lesbians.

But never fear this blog won’t solely be about my dating adventures but I’m sure there will be some amusing stories to share along the way.

My name is Shannan, I live in Canada and I’m from Australia.  I wear my heart on my sleeve, I’m direct, honest, sensitive, slightly over emotional at times, I have a high dependency on chocolate and I’m creative.

I want to change the world but I guess I just don’t know how to do that right now.  And that makes me a bit sad and a little anxious.  I want amazing things for my life and I’m hoping that 2013 will be the start of something big.

I feel like my creativity is just busting to get out of me right now and this blog is a way for me to work on my writing skills, entertain myself and others and also share some of my life with those people who aren’t on facebook (yes, I actually know people not on facebook).

I don’t imagine that all my blogging will be humorous as I feel lately that I’ve been faking a lot of things and I want my blog to be a more genuine reflection of where I’m at.

Maybe I’ll lose interest or life will get too busy to blog but I’m hoping I don’t turn into one of those people that start talking about recipes and patchwork or home renovations.

Oh who am I kidding?  I love cooking and I’m great with a cordless drill and a tin of paint.  I can definitely admit I won’t talk about patchwork, I tried to make a quilt for my best friends 30th birthday and she’s still waiting for it and that was 4 years ago.

Perhaps this is just a form of therapy for me.  And I think that’s ok too.