Alright, you’re all going to tell me to get over it since I, like everyone else, was a kid once. Also, I do realize that kids have to be kids. But when they’re jumping and running and screaming right above my head, I just want to cry. I mean, I feel I’m not within my rights to knock on my neighbour’s door at 8:00 p.m. to ask them to calm the little fuckers who’ve been at it for well over an hour.
Meanwhile, there’s one demented child in the building across. It screams for no reason. At 7:30 a.m. On Saturday. Which gets its mother to scream back.
That’s when she’s not playing with said child and — I kid you not — ululating. Something like this.
It’s rather cool to live in such a multicultural city. But…
In a post back in January, I compared two reality shows whose basic premise is buying real estate. When I wrote that post, I found a lot of negative comments about Sandra Rinomato, host of HGTV’s Property Virgins, but not as much about Tatiana Londono of The Property Shop, also a show on HGTV. That surprised me a little because Londono is pretty loud and brash and I thought that would have earned her a lot of haters.
In fact, the only dirt I could find about her is that she was to appear this spring before Québec’s self-regulatory real-estate body (that is, the Organisme d’Autoréglementation du courtage immobilier du Québec, or OACIQ) but there were few details on what the disciplinary hearing was about. I don’t know what reminded me of her today but, after much digging, I finally found out why she appeared, what the charges were, and what was the outcome of the hearing.
This article explains it all: she “has taken responsibility for the actions of her former assistant — a broker who falsified a client’s signature on contracts to sell two Westmount apartments in 2008 and 2009,” the article’s lead paragraph explains.
The former assistant is never named but I recall one episode where she had a falling out with someone who worked with her and whom she considered one of her best friends, so I wonder if she’s the assistant in question. I also wonder if this disciplinary tangle has turned off HGTV (or Londono herself) from creating another season of The Property Shop. One can still view past seasons of the show on hgtv.ca, but there’s no indication if the show will be coming back (unless I didn’t look properly).
I decided since writing my original post that I find her quite annoying and I can understand why many can’t stand watching her show. However, perhaps this fact, along with the way Montréal is portrayed, is what makes the show entertaining for me. If anything, Londono is textbook “reality TV” material…
I’m not quite sure why, but I felt those “butterflies of stress” in my belly for much of the afternoon today. That’s the first time I felt them in any serious way since I’ve been on my short leave from work. I wonder what that’s about.
Well, let’s see………
I mentioned in my last post that I only had a few “noise-reduction” projects to start. One I decided to put off, pending on the outcome of another. That other project is too embarrassing to mention in this blog until it’s finished, but I made a crucial call today to figure out its scope, and the last outstanding project is in full swing, although it will be months before it comes to its “natural completion.”
The “Embarrassing One”
The thing about the embarrassing project is that, if it works out like I suspect it will, it could have such a significant and positive financial outcome that I would be clearing up other problems that I hadn’t even put on my list of noises. That should be enough incentive to get through the preliminary work to get it accomplished but, for reasons unknown, the butterflies started to flutter just thinking about the task at hand. I still have three days to get that work done, though, and I set myself a tentative deadline of Tuesday to reach the second step.
The 2011 Meltdown
The shaky economy is back in the news in a big way and the growing consensus is that we’re heading into another recession. We’ve been feeling rather optimistic in Canada because we fared much better than most other places during the 2008 downward swing; however, this time, no one is feeling immune for what’s ahead.
I have tons of reasons to feel secure at my job but, given it’s in financial services, I can’t help but feel somewhat vulnerable. The demand for someone with my job description is not about to disappear; however, since it is what my employer (correctly) describes as a “cost centre,” who’s to say it won’t be on the chopping block should said employer decide it needs to clamp down on those? It’s disgusting considering that it has been racking up billions in profits each year, but the uberwealthy are always first to cry famine.
Anyway, the bleak economic news of the last two days made me realize the importance of getting through my embarrassing project as quickly as possible just in case my hopeful outcome is right.
Well, the first of my two pairs of glasses arrived this afternoon. It’s what I’m calling the “public” pair that arrived today as opposed to the ones adapted more for computer use. So, given I’m only starting work again next Monday, these are the ones I wanted first, anyway.
The last time I wore glasses was for reading only, while I was at university. These are progressives, which is definitely taking some getting used to. If I focus in the right spot for what I’m to see, then it’s true that I feel like I have supervision. It’s as if I had gotten used to looking through slightly dirty windows but now all the windows have been cleaned. The best part, however, is that so far I’m no longer feeling my right eye straining.
Meanwhile, Le Maître said yesterday that, in a worse-case scenario, my official status could change by early next spring. Aside from visiting Lucy early tomorrow afternoon and REALLY cleaning up the apartment, there are only three “noises” or projects to start before next Monday, although there’s one in particular that I may comfortably delay. With things seemingly falling together favorably, I may use the cold winter months for a bit of austerity — financially and nutritionally — so that I may look forward to a cool (or hot) spring/summer 2012.
During a session about a month ago with Lucy, she used a word to describe my feelings that, initially and on the surface, didn’t ring true to me. That word was “anger.” Then, a few days later, Gary repeated that word. However, by the time he used it, I had already dwelled on it and realized that it did ring true.
I guess my initial reaction is due to how I had a very limited view or definition of “anger.” I pictured it a synonym of physical or verbal violence. However, after mulling over the word and talking to Lucy about it a week after she first used it, I realized that the result of bottling up emotions and even the most minute sense of outrage accumulated in a manner as to create a huge but very undirected sense of resentment, which indeed is a form of anger.
By this point, I had taken ownership of the word and learned to recognize it and not to be afraid of it. Then, this weekend, I read back some of my posts and this one hit me like a ton of bricks…
Reconnecting to Music
There is no teacher
Who can teach anything new
He can just help us to remember
The things we always knew
Those are the last words of “Odyssey of the Mind” in Enigma’s third album, Le Roi est mort, vive le roi!, which I rediscovered last week after having set it aside for almost 15 years. It’s painfully obvious that Lucy, a therapist rather than a teacher, indeed got me to remember something that I already knew and had even written about not so long ago. Good thing I never dismiss her words out of hand when she first utters them!
In fact, toward the end of my last session with her, I expressed my sense of pleasant surprise over how my leave from work seems to have been so effective. Yes, tackling bit by bit the so-called “noise” has been a huge relief but, as I told her, after each session I mull over our discussions, especially what she said. To that, she nodded in agreement and said, “You’ve got a good ability at introspection, at looking inside yourself.” I know she meant it, but I also know that she’s figured out with me that a little positive feedback goes a long way, like the solace I found in not being declared “Just plain nuts.”
Reconnecting with People
I notice with some curiosity that, since April, I have had a strong desire to connect with people. I started with a few select friends; then, I came clean with my mother.
However, there have also been reconnections. Recall, for instance, the reconnection with Da Big Goof shortly after my birthday. In the few days afterwards, I reconnected via Facebook with someone with whom I went to the Université de Moncton — someone who, as it turns out, has been in Montréal for more than a decade. Later, when I felt the urge to find those old Enigma tracks on YouTube, I remembered the person who had unintentionally driven me away from that music almost 15 years ago. At this point of my life, the pain was long gone; it was replaced by a simple “I wonder what he’s up to these days” and I found through Facebook that he’s now living in Ottawa, doing roughly the same kind of work he did back then. So, I reconnected with him and we may meet up sometime. Finally, this weekend, I went to Ottawa and spent a most pleasant day with The First One — indeed, my first boyfriend when I was merely 17.
Reconnecting with Life
The Queen of Sheba called me late last week in response to an e-mail I sent her. She expressed both her joy and amazement over how I seem to be reconnecting so well with life. In turn, I expressed how I didn’t quite understand this desire I have to trace back people from so long ago, but I’m just going with it. I’m merely chalking up this need to being a byproduct of a period of intense introspection. It’s as though looking back provides context for the path forward.
Later this afternoon, I’ll be meeting with whom I’ll simply call Le Maître to start work on silencing one of those nagging sound bites. Here’s hoping it will only be the formality that it’s intended to be.
It may be a little simplistic, but I’m coming to the conclusion that I have simple choices: I can be happy or I can be unhappy; I can despair or I can hope; I can isolate myself or I can occupy my space.
Increasingly it looks like I’m choosing to reconnect, not sweat the small stuff, and simply get through the big stuff while acknowledging the evidence that shows that what doesn’t (and didn’t) kill me makes me stronger…