Topping Out with the Lipstick Feminist

Forgive me if it seems like I'm loitering around the subject of rock climbing. The way I see it, I may as well. For a start, I'm waiting to hear about a second interview and with the Christmas season sorted editorially (I write reviews for an entertainment website...check me out at www.phase9.tv) not to mention networking meetings petering out for the year, I have a bit of spare time on my hands. Hands I might add, that now look like minced beef and feel like a cheese grater. Attractive. I won't tell you what my feet would say if they could talk. Climbing shoes are like little iron maidens for the toes. Aside from the discomfort I couldn't be happier about getting back in the harness so to speak.

I topped out at least 8 times today - that means reached the top of a climb (bouldering to be more precise) which isn't bad given that it's been 5 years since I last climbed. After the first top out, I wobbled nervously at the precipice looking down at the navy blue of the crash mats 12 feet below, legs like jelly and the sound of blood pumping through my ears. Completely blissed out. Nothing compared to doing the same outdoors but it comes close if climbing in your thing.

I noticed a couple of things while up there. First - now that I've had laser eye surgery and can actually see - I realised how very freaking afraid of heights I still am. Secondly that there is a definite type with specific male/females attributes that are into climbing.

For men it's usually your lanky and lean type. Over a certain age, guy climbers seem to favour facial hair more often than not and seem to emanate an almost hippie-like earthiness that other so-called extreme sport types don't. Rock on is what I say.

More problematic is the female climber over a certain age. I hate to perpetuate the whole image thing that women have over the years been victims of but there was something very 'desperate housewives' about the female climber closing in on her 40s there today. I don't know if it was the make up or the ridiculously tight outfits. I'm all for flaunting it if you have it and indeed they certainly do - climbing is extremely demanding...but I don't know, I just got the feeling that they unlike their hirsute male counterparts seem to be trying too hard. It's the age old adage -women have to try harder and be better just to get the same recognition as men. Don't groan boys; with more girls being born and out-performing boys at school - your time is coming and then you'll understand what I mean because it's all about equal access. Equality is nothing more than a nice idea.

Maybe I'm being too judgemental. Maybe I care too much or maybe I'm just as bad as men of a certain mentality. Maybe I'm forgetting that I'm closing in on 40 and feeling the pressure. What better way to deflect the focus from me. Maybe for every cougar wearing lipstick at the climbing wall there is a medallion wearing man pumping iron at a gym full of sweaty natural females letting it all hang out.

And then I realised I might not have been wearing tight climbing clothes but I certainly hadn't just rolled out of bed. Perhaps making an effort is about self-esteem, after all without it we're just a bag of bones.

As I lugged my bag of bones to the bottom of the boulder for the last climb of the morning I decided to make this one a bit more emancipated. Live and let live!

www.climbersrock.com

Happiness from Another Angle

So I went to the indoor climbing wall yesterday and it's the best I've ever seen. Nothing under 5.5 (grading system for climbs which refers to how steep a climb is and/or level of difficulty). There was a bouldering competition in progress when I arrived and it was fantastic to see the diversity of climbers there. Mature pro-climbers to kids of school age. That should provide enough camouflage for me. I'm not a bad climber but I'm very out of practice. The last time I climbed was about 5 years ago and while I was leading 5 + routes back then I have since got married, had a child and lost the will to live which can take the spark out of the hardiest delusionally happy clappy type.

I've had an epiphany since the 'girl interrupted' season I started out here as and I'm not about to walk that plank again. To allow that to happen again would be to allow a preventable slip off the mortal coil. Since making the decision to do something for myself (and I mean an honest to goodness self serving activity) I've been in a much better mood and everyone around me has noticed which just goes to show -greed is good (sometimes).

Also I've been invited back for a second interview by the fine old charity I mentioned in my last post. More about that or not as appropriate. I'm off to get a harness, rope, couple of locking carabenas and quick draws. Sound like a western.

The Cold Boulder

I'm getting back into rock climbing - hallelujah!! hallelujah!! hallelujah!! and it only took the prospect of minus 10 degree weather (moderate by Canadian standards) to prompt a decision I've been putting off a while. My own fault. At best, I tend to cogitate, over think and can be incredibly indecisive. At worst I try too many things at once and end up achieving very little. It's all about the trade-off. I am consciously giving up time that I would otherwise spend at home, drumming, writing or just hanging with the family but due to reasons described earlier...I actually wasn't getting much of these things done so might as well get out, focus on one thing and make it through this winter without too much collateral damage (well maybe a week in Hawaii is justified - just to take the edge off 31 weeks in Tundra-like conditions).

Last year I moped around like "Girl, Interrupted" for close to 6 months. I found myself struggling with S.A.D like symptoms and taking it out on my nearest and dearest. Not this year. Now that I know what's coming, I know I don't have the resolve of last year - nor does my husband. So I'm off to do a refresher course in lead climbing and then just try and stop me from getting really good over the winter. And after that - try and stop me from going to the best most 'bitchin' outdoor climbing areas in the world over the summer.

When life throws you a curve ball - if you can't whack it, at least dodge it.

Let the Extravaganza Begin

I received my first rejection today since my job search began at the end of August. There are a couple of reasons why this doesn't make me too unhappy - though I'm not exactly ecstatic. First I realised half way through the hour and a half interview that I really didn't have the right skill sets for the role so I was totally expecting not to get it and secondly: at last the ball is well and truly rolling.

I should start at the beginning before this post confuses you further. Jobs applied for: in the tens and mostly strategic applications - I stopped the scatter gun approach when I was 24 (that's a while ago). Interviews: two (plus countless networking meetings) - not great by anyone's standards least of all someone with such high expectations and so much to offer :) (well, modesty ain't gonna pay the rent) but this is a recession after all and the Canadian job market is 'different'.

In my defense both interviews were for tier one companies - one for a luxury retailer and the other for a huge media company, so nothing to be ashamed of there.

I won't say which one I was rejected by because that's not the point. Fact is the interviewer called me herself and offered to personally refer me to a couple of big PR agencies. If only all life's rejections came with these kinds of sweeteners. The other company where I felt the interview couldn't have gone better has yet to contact me with the outcome. Which just goes to show. I'm not so much offended as disappointed at the lack of professionalism but that is their problem not mine anymore.

Moving on. I have another interview on Friday for a really fine charity. This opportunity was born of the very first networking meeting I ever had. I didn't perform very well as my head was fuzzy from almost a year of, well, nothing too taxing frankly so it would be extremely ironic if this turned out to be 'the one.' Watch this space.

Animal, Mineral or Vegetarian

I should be in NYC right now but due to 'low ceilings' or in plain English - fog, planes were not landing in Newark all day or taking off from Toronto's Pearson airport. I wasn't alone - Ivana Trump was rattling around T1 like a marble in a shoebox; nice to know it happens to the mightiest too.

I'm all for safety so I'm not angry with the airlines but I have to be honest - I'm disappointed; devastated actually. After a year of utter isolation in Canada I pinned a lot of my hopes for easy, comforting, human interaction on this weekend where I was due to meet friends from the UK for a jovial, boozy, emotional hen weekend full of familiarity and much needed solidarity. I've mentionned the crippling loneliness that has become the leitmotif of my daily existence since moving here (little did I know) so I needed this weekend in New York like a child needs the loving arms of its parents.

I didn't deserve what happened. Not really. I cried, sobbed to be precise and now I'm done with the NYC conversation.

Having to move on for sanity's sake in this abrupt way got me thinking about the Buddhist belief that all things and experiences are inconstant, unsteady and impermanent. Everything is made up of parts and is dependent on the right conditions for its existence. Everything is in flux, and so conditions are constantly changing. Things are constantly coming into being, and ceasing to be. Nothing lasts . In other words, seeking to prolong pleasure when it too is fleeting is inviting the root of all suffering: expectation.

One meditation junky told me once the way to get around this without appearing devoid of humanity is to be involved but detached. I sort of get it . I think it means engagement but not at the lowly emotional level that your average human being functions at. By that rational then if I don't want to feel pain then I have to avoid love. My world devoid of friends is empty enough. If love means pain and vice versa - I'll take the hit every time.

I'm off to London in December to attend the wedding of the girl whose hen party I missed in NYC. I can't wait. I like that I can't wait and no doubt I'll cry when I get there and more if I don't because to deny myself the nature of expectation is to live a life without hope and that just isn't 'real' enough for me.

The Quiet Canadian

Having realised that many large companies in Canada with a need for what I do i.e. corporate relations run the corporate bit from either the US or Europe, I was stumped to say the least, as to what my next move might be. I could just stay at home and try to write a novel but that doesn't pay the daycare and I can't write with the peals of a 2 and a half year old ringing in my ears.

Instead I took advice from the most helpful Canadian networking associate I've met to date who told me to become more targeted in my approach. Canadian companies that run their corporate business out of Canada have to fall into a particular turnover bracket with workforce numbers to match. With this information in hand, I trotted off not exactly with a spring in my step, but at least with my curiosity aroused. I knew about RIM for example (makers of the Blackberry) being Canadian. I also knew about a few others that I'd come across in my day to day existence (hardware stores, fast food chains) but I needed a few more poker chips to gamble with than that. So last night I went on a Google fest and I've just been through the most amazing journey of Canadian corporate discovery.

Here's what I found out about truly successful global Canadian companies. They have quietly gone about their business like chameleons. They move into a market, blend in and seem to be local. For example did you know the following companies are all Canuck? Companies like Umbra, McCain Foods and Aldo Shoes are global players in their markets. Most people outside of Canada don’t know Cirque du Soleil or BlackBerry are Canadian, a huge strength in a global market and at last really good news for me. Perhaps I might also take a leaf out of the chameleon's book and apply it to my current dilemma of sticking out like a sore thumb.

Wish me luck. Global players or not - a recession is a recession.

Follow Your Bliss

No matter how much you read or see or hear about the secret to inner happiness, it's not real until you feel it. I'm told self love (figuratively speaking) is the key . Let me preface this by saying I have a love-hate relationship with myself so I only feel it occasionally but recently I've had to accept my limitations with regards all things that would currently enhance said inner satisfaction; my desire to sell up and move to the city; my desire to bag the equivalent career job I left in London to come to Canada with my husband and child in search of a 'better quality of life'. (Define better quality is what I will ask myself next time I get a wild idea like that). And of course my desire to grow roots and reap the fringe benefits- community, routine - not to be mistaken for familiarity because we all know where that leads.

I'm working on all three. Now is not the time for passive inactivity I've been telling myself - now is the time to gain traction. And then I realised that in focusing my energies on fighting the good fight - or fights in my case I've been giving the struggle too much credence. I should instead be simply acknowledging the difficulties because ignoring them won't make them go away but in the meantime, simply accepting my limitations at this time.

This, by the way is not earth-shattering news to me or anyone. I always knew that the answer lay in acceptance but how many of us tip our hats knowingly at stress and then just carry on? REALLY just carry on.

Fact is I have no choice in whether I meet myself in the middle or whether I lose it completely. It took that kind of curtailment to realise I have to keep on rollin' (feel like I've been here a 100 times already) but I think I'm at peace with it now.

Follow your bliss folks because when you have nowhere else to turn except into yourself it's much more pleasant a place without the rage and remember to give yourself something to cling onto. Janis Joplin said it best: Freedom is when you have nothing left to lose. If that's true I'd rather be a prisoner.

False Economies or to put it another way The End of Delusion

Making self-serving rash decisions are equally as damaging as not acting at the right time. The key is being confident that it is 'the right time' to do something. To be more precise, I've come to the painful realisation that right now is not 'the right time' to move to Toronto as much confidence as I have in my ability to find the 'right' job and be able to balance the books with the income it would provide.

It just doesn't pay to rush important life decisions and for the moment selling at a loss, or even just breaking even to buy a sub-standard place in the city (money buys less in the city whichever way you look at it) that in two month's time may fall into negative equity could turn out to be more stupid than the time I returned that pair of diamond earrings I mention in my profile.

So while I am not immediately taking the house off the market because after all the world has never known an economic situation like this one - it really all could go either way. The pragmatist in me knows that a financial collapse of this sort will not be resolved by January 2009 like a diseased liver (providing it hasn't already fallen down the wrong side of cirrhosis) takes about the same amount of time to heal as it did to get to the state where it was making you yellow.

So...let's see. I am now back to being stuck in the suburbs for reasons not of my, but greedy bankers' making. Great. Well, I have a choice: sit here purging and moaning forever and a day or make the burbs work for me. Last night as I lay wide awake in bed unable to pinpoint the reason for my insomnia; I have a beautiful healthy child, a roof over my head, a couple of cars in the driveway and a fridgeful of food....I made the decision to not have any more sleepless nights over this. I'll admit I've had a hard time adapting which has led me to overlook all the good stuff, still I'm not beating myself up about it. It's human nature especially when there has been so much change to deal, not to mention the crippling loneliness on a scale I had no idea existed. No, I've got enough going on navigating the Canadian job market.

On this last note , the interviews keep coming so I must be doing somthing 'right' - there's that word again.

I think I'll work on finding some Canadian friends instead and start planning for Chrimbo.

Guilt by Another Name

I'm not one for U-turns but I am one for realistic goal setting. As you know the house it up for sale and I've long wanted to move to the city. I feel confident that our house will sell fairly quickly despite the current economic times. What I'm not so confident about is that we'll find the house we want in Toronto quite as fast. I've decided not to over analyze things and to just go with the flow. That said I won't be making any rash decisions or relinquish the power to decide.

With all this in mind, I've decided to put into place a contingency (business people call this Business Continuity planning) and so to this end I finally approached an animated posse of nannies at the local library whom I have been secretly surveying for months, to ask about the possibility of engaging one of them in the task of looking after my sweet if somewhat temperamental 2 and a half year old should the job hunt end before the living situation gets resolved.

See, I relocated to the world of trade-offs from the world of choice the minute I became a mum. Work-life balance is another saying for 'you can't have it all'. Ultimately you have to buy-into the life choice made and realise that doing anything half-heartedly will only end in tears of regret and a lifetime of non-completion. How do you decide what part of a child's life is more important? Personally I want to be able to provide for my child when things get truly expensive and that means gaining traction now in my career. Love comes free and that is available on tap, always has - always will. Education and designer clothes don't.

Substitutes are no Substitute for the Real Thing

The "For Sale" sign has gone up outside the house here in this little commuter town of Oakville and Toronto proper beckons. Let the extravaganza begin! I've been in Oakville now for nine months and it has felt very much like a pregnancy. Right about now I just want it all over and done with and I hope this time it's not going to feel too much like a Cesarean. The only section I want is the one that takes me to the mental hospital if this all fails.

There was a lot of emotional investment in this initial move to Canada and I admit I made a mistake moving to the suburbs - I mean what was I thinking? A city girl like me? But crazy as it sounds I can admit (now that this frumpy phase has an end in sight) that there are things I have grown fond of in this here quaint (see I'm calling it quaint now) town that I will miss when I move to the big smoke. Don't tell my husband. He's been giving Spiderman a run for his money climbing the walls with what he calls my bovine dysfunction (the grass in that field is greener than the cud I'm chewing in this here bog).

He's not entirely convinced I'm going to like Toronto either and well if that happens New York is only an hour and a bit away....but I jest. Of course I'll like Toronto, I already do. It's where the magic happens.

It's funny where desperation leads to find solace. Here's one for you. At the end of my road there is a graffiti stencil (no bigger than a kitten) of a mouse holding a spray can doing graffiti - it's so clever I call it 'The Banksy". It's not of course but I feel at home with it. That stupid little mouse with its backpack and can of spray paint underpinned my far away cultural points of references that were beginning to sag and I love it for that. Sometimes I go and look at it just to make sure I still exist. Have you heard anything more tragic? Hey - whatever it takes to get you through the night right? Well yes and no. The time comes when you have to take stock of what is real and what isn't. When fantasy outweighs reality - it is time to wake up and smell the poutine (a dish consisting of French fries topped with fresh cheese curds, covered with brown gravy and is a quintessential Canadian comfort food - what can I tell ya?).