Reel Life vs. Real Life

Alright - it has been exactly a week since I last wrote. My apologies. The last time we met, I was battling some badass bug that had decided to attack my throat. As luck would have it, this bug also attacked my lungs. Yes, what I thought was merely a throat infection turned out to be pneumonia. Instead of gargling with some salt water, I found myself with logging 16 hours of sleep per day while getting reacquainted with Zithromax. The good news is, I can finally breathe again, I can eat solid foods and I have the energy to actually write.

I recently went out with bambi and Darleya to catch a flick...While the boys were away, we thought it would be great to see a chick-flick, something we knew we had no chance of ever going to see with a significant other (not that I have one, but they both do). Our choice - Life As We Know It. That's right, we opted for the cheesiest one out there at present time. I would like to mention that it did not disappoint. Within 20 minutes, I looked to my left, then my right, only to find my girlfriends in the same state as me - sniffling, teary-eyes and mascara running down our cheeks while frantically looking for some tissues. The circumstances in the movie were horrible, and though none of us had ever lived through anything remotely trying as what these people were going through, we could all relate to the pain and emotion the characters were experiencing.

Watching this set the wheels in motion for this current post. What is it about these chick-flicks that has us so hooked? Or even reality shows in general? Perhaps my target is moreso reality shows than the movies, but I have come to realize over the last year that too many of us spend time idolizing things that just don't exisit, or that are so far from what reality actually is. Let's take anything (or most things) produced by MTV, The Real World being a prime example. I watched the entire last season of The Real World: New Orleans with bambi religiously. We each had our favorite characters, and would spend a fair amount of time discussing these. But more fascinating than the characters was the predicaments they seemed to always find themselves in, and the whole notion of the show to begin with. Life is so much more complicated than the images we are fed. Who really lives with eight COMPLETE strangers, in a pimped-out house without having to worry about money? And really, who is lucky enough to say that their biggest problem in life is a weird roomate. Not me, that's for damn sure. And yet these people are made out to be role-model types. People somehow think that being on The Real World is an accomplishment, something to strive for - why is that? And more importantly, who managed to convince today's youth of this, because this person is not only psychotic, but at the same time, a genius.

Allow me to take you through a week in my life. Everyday boasts some routine activities - showering, gym, meals and work. But my work is not going out and having fun and being carefree. My work is in a cubicle, with deadlines, working with some people that I like, and some that I don't like at all. I depend on my salary, and if I lose my job, I am up shit creek without a paddle. Pardon the expression. I feel like these shows are propaganda, instilling non-accurate depictions of what "real life" is in today's younger generation. Everyone wants to live this "fabulous" life where everything is taken care of for you, where responsibility and accountability are notions of the past, where by some miracle, you can dress in designer duds without having to work for any of it. Whose "real" life is this? It certainly isn't mine.

No one appreciates what they have anymore, and we are always seeking more, seeking something better. We are fed images of glamour and wealth on a constant basis, and find ourselves comparing our lives to these images. And for what? It would be nice to have the world handed to me on a silver platter, but I am 95% certain that if I did, I would have the same level of intelligence as Paris Hilton - I too would think that Walmart is a place that sells walls. I would much rather have a little less, and know that at least I worked for what I have. I would much rather save up for a vacation and enjoy the anticipation that goes with it than just mindlessly jump from one continent to another just because "I can". When I close my eyes at night and go to bed, I know that I have made a difference in someone's life, and it isn't because I was photographed wearing the newest Louboutin's. I go to bed with a sense of accomplishment, I don't need thousands of random strangers worshipping me in order to have self-worth.

So I guess at the end of the day, my point is the following - if you aren't happy with your life, do something about it, be proactive. But, don't for a second allow yourself to be fooled by "reel life" - everything is orchestrated, and nothing is ever really as it seems. Life is not like the movies, and problems are not resolved after an hour and a half of romantic comedy sequences. Life isn't a fairytale, and living vicariously through reality-tv lushes will more than likely leave you feeling quite disenchanted. Life is what you make of it. And if you spend your time idolizing others, and lusting after things that only about 10% of the world's population can actually afford anyways, you will always be let down. Work hard, and play harder, and above all, remember - as poor as you may be, all the money in the world can never buy pride, and you can take pride wherever life brings you.

-Milie B.

Will You Be My Friend?

Growing up, my dad was in the military. This meant that much like clockwork, every three to four years I could expect to move to a new city. Sometimes even a new province. Often, during the moves, I was shipped to northern Quebec to go spend some quality time with my grandparents while my parents took care of the actual move, and proceeded to unpack kid-free. I will always remember the summer I returned "home" to Ottawa. I arrived in the middle of July. I was five years old. I remember going outside to ride my bike up and down the street (because back then, we didn't have an Xbox to play with) in hopes of meeting some kids my age. I quickly befriended two boys my age who lived a few houses down, and before I knew it, we were kickin' it daily. Several weeks into this newfound friendship, we were swimming in my froggy pool when a young girl appeared. She had long, dirty blond hair, red corduroy shorts, a white, short-sleeved blouse with little red flowers, white leather sandals, and a Burger King crown. She was friends with the two boys, and wanted to know if she could come swimming. The audacity! She just shows up in MY backyard, wants to join and doesn't even know me?! As it turns out, she was pretty cool - she kept me around, and I somehow became her best friend. She is the person who probably knows the most about me, and to this day, is my closest friend in the world.

Friday, as my work day came to an end, I found myself looking forward to an evening with her and our Halloween hostess. An evening of good food, good wine and of course great conversation. The evening didn't disappoint. We arrived and enjoyed some wonderfully tasty food, followed by some Cheetah Surge and a few glasses of red wine we had developed a whole new appreciation for while at the Wine & Food Show last weekend. As bambi and I left, our parting words were, "We'll see you tomorrow!!", knowing full-well that Saturday would be just as awesome. Saturday had been in the works for a few days now. Shopping at a new, yet-to-be-discovered place that R3's girlfriend had been gushing about, dinner, and just some quality girl-time. We all headed out late Saturday afternoon in search of treasure (a.k.a. some awesome designer finds at Hush, above mentioned store) and coffee. After our incredibly successful treasure hunt, we headed to The Grand to replenish our energy with some drinks, and well-deserved carbs. We left more than satisfied, and piled into the car to head back home.

When we got home, there was no question about what the first thing we would do was - we would get into lounge gear. We settled into the couches, armed ourselves with dessert and attacked Season 2 of Sex and the City. As I watched, like every other woman out there who has ever watched, I found I could relate. I looked at my friends and saw that we too, were much like Carrie and her tight-knit circle of friends. And as I looked closer, I found that there wasn't really anyone else I would enjoy my Saturday night with as much as with these friends. They enjoyed my company and who I was, they themselves were nothing short of a joy to be with. They are ladies I know I can count on and that I can trust. They are my go-to network of supporters when I am feeling down and need to be indulged, and they are my "I will slap you if you don't get it together!" reality check when I need it. THEY are my friends.

As I drove home, I couldn't help but think of Facebook and the obessession with having all these "friends". Really, what is the deal? Don't get me wrong - I think there are many uses for Facebook, and some of my friends belong in this group of people with 1500+ friends, but it is mainly a networking thing. I am talking about the people who don't network. The people I went to highschool with, barely whispered a word to, and are re-adding me after they have realized 8 months down the road I deleted them from my friends list back in February. I would love to know why they want to re-add me. After all, I do know you, and I guess you were an aquaintance back in high school, but did I miss something along the way - were we friends the whole time? And considering you weren't even aware that I moved away for 10 years and didn't even graduate with you, can you honestly tell me that you value our Facebook friendship status - it took you until now to realize I had even removed you.

I have long wondered what drives this need for the most friends. Are these friend whores particpants in a game of who knows more people? Are these people naive enough to think that everyone they meet is actually their friend? Are these people trying to re-live the glory days of high school/ college/ university, or perhaps trying to re-invent themselves and differ from the person they once were, a person who didn't have quite as many friends back in the day? And at the end of the day, does it matter? Should it matter? I hope you don't think for a moment that I have answers to any of the above questions - I only ask them...

In my early Facebook days, I also found myself trying to locate as many people as I could. People I had grown up with, people I had once gone to school with, people I had lost touch with or worked with. As the weeks passed, I too felt good about having all these friends, and it then dawned on me that I never actually spoke to 60% of the people I knew. I knew them yes, but they were by no means my friends. They aren't the people I call when I am feeling like everything sucks, and they certainly aren't the people I spend my Saturdays with, shopping, having dinner and enjoying Sex and the City with - they aren't my friends. Now, don't get me wrong - in the past months, I have met alot of new people, and I have added them to Facebook as friends, but I also keep in touch with these people - they enrich my life. I know their phone numbers, and when they text me (though some still need to learn about time differences), I answer back without so much as a second thought. It has taken me a long time to realize it, but knowing 1500+ people will never change your life unless they are all your friends. And real friends are few and far between. I would much rather have 10 friends and know they will be there no matter what than know 1000 people I can't rely on...

To all my friends - to those whose calls I don't screen, those who hear from me on a regular basis, those who spend hours with me as I agonize that I cannot find jeans that give me an ass or shoes that fit properly, those who understand my somtimes twisted logic and know that I will always be mildly neurotic - thanks for being my friends; you mean the world to me and make my life better. Which is exactly the way it should be.

-Milie B.

Klassy With A "K"

First off, I feel as though I should apologize for not writing sooner. Secondly, thank you for your patience - I know I said I would write frequently, and it seems as though life keeps getting in the way. I have actually had to resort to sticking post-it tabs above my laptop in order to avoid having my brilliant topics escape my mind. Honestly! There are no less than 10 tabs, all of which are issues (?) I need (want?) to address...Or at the very least, voice my opinion about.

As you may or  may not have noticed, today's topic is all about class - but with a capital "K". The kind of class that is usually reserved for week-long cottage parties or Vegas expeditions where only your friends, or complete strangers see you at your abolute worse. When you don't need to worry about shame, because you know everyone is just as messed and incapable as you are. Once again though, my ever-watchful eye caught one of these Klassy people at gasp! a very public event last Friday.

As my work day wound to an end, I found myself getting mildly dolled up for the Ottawa Wine & Food Show. Dark skinny jeans, crisp white v-neck tee, black blazer and black knee-high leather boots. I was dressed a propos for the occasion, without looking pretentious, like I was on my way to dinner with the Queen herself. My friends and I had long awaited this night - it seems as though in previous years, we had never been able to get our acts together long enough to map out any type of plan to attend. We had finally reached the follow-through stage.

When we arrived, we saw all types of creatures. Some over-dressed and pretentious, there were others for whom the notion of mirrors and a hairbrush were foreign, and most people were dressed as my friends and I were - clean, but with a little something extra. As the night wore on, we ventured from country to country, in the search of our new favorite wine, of a new restaurant we hadn't yet been to, but now HAD to try based on a mini-portion of appetizers. What was great as well is that everyone in the area knows about this weekend - those who are smart go on Friday, when there are less people, and you can still move around without feeling completely claustrophobic. Those who weren't quite as hip to the game went on Saturday and got to enjoy the great outdoors as they waited in the monstrous line. *Ahem, suckah what?!* Most people you know probably go on the Saturday, and this is actually a great thing - this means there are less chances you will run into a disliked or awkward coworker, or "friend you don't really talk to anymore" - this means you are likely to run into the crowd you normaly run with, even though no one told anyone else you would be there...See how the Friday is better, even though it doesn't go quite as late.

As the night wore on, my friends got a little tipsy, but never drunk, I stopped drinking because I had volunteered to be the designated driver, and everything just got silly. People evcerywhere were laughing and in a great mood, no one was snobby, a great time was obviously being had by all. Too much of a good time for some. As 21h00 rolled around, we found ourselves being ushered out to the coatcheck - ugh...bright lights! As we got ourselves organized, we turned around to see a young woman, approximately our age, being held up and supported by two or three of her closest friends, who seemed embarassed to be bringing her out in this state.

I understand that it is fun to go out, and have a good time with your friends. I also understand that it feels good to sometimes let go, booze it up, and drink until you can't tell your hand from your foot, and you wonder how you got home. Bars are there to cater to that exact need. But the Wine & Food Show, really? Come on, have a little more class than that. This is not some place where people go to get hosed on a  Friday night - this is a place where regular people can go to have a "more sophisticated" time once a year, so they can avoid the "drunks". Now, I am not saying this girl was a drunk, but she certainly was drunk, and I am willing to bet she saw it coming a mile away, and simply chose to have a a few more when she clearly knew that disaster loomed. I am still wondering how she got the guts to do it! I was once drugged at a bar, and my friend had to carry my sorry butt out of the bar in a similar state, and I was absolutely MORTIFIED. To have people see me in THAT type of state. I am certain if I had had my camera with me, I could have turned this into the most perfect demotivational poster there ever was.

One can ever be sure of who is waiting around the bend, and if there is one thing I have learned, it is that the world is very small. This is often thrown around, but I don't think people truely realize JUST how small it is. If I am going out to some fancy event, that I know happens only once a year, and that a very high percentage of people in my city are also attending the same, said event, then it is only logical that I will likely run into someone I know. I could also run into people I don't know, but am supposed to meet in the future, unbeknownst to me at that time - this is NOT the type of impression of myself I would like to leave anyone. And so, if i can impart and words of wisdom, it is to stay classy at all times. Always be aware, and remember that someone is always watching. Leave the "klass" at home, and leave classy events with your head held high, and a million dollar smile - not draped over your two best friends, head down in shame, trying frantically to put one foot in front of the other.

-Milie B.

Not So Common After All

One of the most wonderful things about my best friend's boyfriend is that he has recently taken up hunting. This statement should not be mistaken for my condoning the hunting of Canadian wildlife - no sirree. Rather, I love the fact that he is out of the house for a whole week (along with the other roommate). This week 10 days of male-bonding within close proximity to beer, cigarettes and guns also gives way to female bonding, better known as "Guy - I'm crashing your place for a week!". During this week 10days, I get to indulge in some healthy cooking (cause my friend makes the best YUMMY healthy stuff), guilty-pleasure t.v. shows that we are otherwise almost too embarrassed to admit we watch, chick-flicks and above all, some SERIOUS girl-talk.

That's right, girl talk. It sounds all fancy and very well-to-do, but, much like men, we too have stuff we like to dish about, things that get our knickers in a twist and above all, things we need to vent about. Which brings me to today's subject. "Common" anything.

The plan for the evening was simple, and well-laid out. We would get home, bambi would do some work, I would take my best shot at baking gluten-free red-velvet cupcakes, we would make dinner, and then go to the gym...Maybe even cap off the night with a little Sex and the City, Season 2. But alas, due to a moderate-to-severe lack of common sense-decency-respect of other people's living space, a wrench found it's way into the perfect plan. Knowing full-well there was an "issue" with R3's glorious, algae encrusted fish-tank proudly displayed in the kitchen, we were naive enough to think it would "be ok" until the boys were back...WRONG. Luckily, we had seen this disaster approaching like hurricane Katerina, and had placed a call to our closest fish-tank expert Sunday night - her visit fit perfectly into the above mentioned, well-laid out plan. No one counted on what came next.

As the tank was opened and the situation assessed, it sunk in that we would no longer be going to the gym (ok, there are certainly worse things in the world, but you know how it is when you get into a routine). Due to the fact we had been cooking until now, we had managed to camouflage the rancid odour the tank was emitting - the picnic was now over. The lid came off, and I am pretty sure that the smell coming out of that tank could rival that of a rotting carcass. I am also pretty certain all three of us threw up in our mouths a little. The amount of CRAP in that water was unreal. Even more far fetched is the fact that there is a fish living in this filth. And less far fetched than that is that R3 knew this tank needed to be changed for at least the last, oh, I don't know, 6 months, minimum. The tank had actually gotten disgustingly clogged to the point where the air filter popped off whatever it is usually attached to, and the tank clouded - wait, no, it murked (<- this is another new word I have invented, feel free to use it)- over in about 36 hours. It was an army-green brown opaque mess. And it smelled like death - really.

I don't think I need to go into explicit detail about how revolting this whole mess was (and think - I was icing the cupcakes and WATCHING this go on - I watched and I was grossed out), but what was even more disenchanting is the fact the whole situation could have easily been avoided - very easily at that. I have found in my recent years that people seem to have lost this thing we once referred to as "common sense" (or decency or respect). I really don't think that in a house where 3 grown adults live, there should be any type of need for a chore chart - I think that when you live with 3 people, you should know better than to leave all your stuff lying around. You should know to keep common areas cleans, to pick up after yourself and to put things in the dishwasher. It's not just about keeping a house or area clean, it's about having enough respect for those with whom you spend the most time with that you don't need to be reminded, like a child. Granted this fish-tank incident is nothing like the hot water tank incident from a few weeks ago, it still put a damper on the evening. A little common sense would have led R3 to the same conclusion that everyone else reached (and pointed out to him, I would like to add) over two months ago.

And so, I would like to know if someone can please re-iterate to me what "common" sense is. Or decency or respect. And I ask because everywhere I look around me, it seems to be more and more obscure. People are rude, selfish and have almost complete disregard for those around them. But above all, the "common" aspect seems to have vanished - it has now turned to rarity, and dare I say, it might even be on the verge of extinction.

The million dollar question - can it be saved?

-Milie B.

Purpose, or point, of BATS

Alright. I was talking with a friend today, and said friend pointed out that successful blogs have a purpose. Some exist to inform about fashion, politics, parenting skills, etc. Which brings me to my next point - the purpose of MY blog.

I don't have a concrete purpose like all the "successful" blogs, but one should also consider how young my blog is (at this point in time, all of 3 days old!). I actually spent a good deal of the day trying to figure out what my blog was about, and how I should go about articulating it. I think when I look at this on a global scale, the purpose is to simply provide others a view into my life. I am a regular person with a regular job, who likes to do regular things. However, I feel this is the perfect forum to address issues I care about, or at the very least, to discuss things that are on my mind, and probably on the minds of others. This means one can probably expect to read about travels, dating, and what life is really like outside The Hills and TMZ. I feel as though we have spent so long being fed a dream image of what "life" is like, and ultimately, people are never satisfied what what they have directly in front of them. I feel as though for too long, I was also part of this jaded population, and now that I have opened my eyes, I can actually begin to live life instead of always thinking that I am falling short.

Ultimately, I want this to be something that everyone can relate to, in some manner or another. I will do my best to keep you entertained, and to write often. I don't claim to be a social butterfly, or to be as popular or interesting as those we have come to idolize, however I don't believe these are pre-requisites to being worthy of being read (although I will be really frank here people, I am definitely just as, if not moreso entertaining than Snookie - except my IQ surpasses that of a roof shingle). My life is full of FAIL moments and debacles, moments of joy and sadness, and even ones that inspire or induce awe. My only hope is that as you read, you can appreciate, and take a chance on whatever I post - it comes from the heart, it isn't my job, and I am doing it because I love to write. Besides, maybe even you will be surprised with what you find here...

-Milie B.

Sunday - Le Sigh...

It is currently 1:25pm - its is Sunday, and I am (obviously) sitting at my computer.  I woke at 12:31pm, something unheard of in my life in the last 10 months - it felt so nice. A few months back, I became a lemmings and purchased an oh-so coveted iPhone. This phone, I am sad to admit, has since become such a major part of my life I cringe at the thought of forgetting it at home during the day while I work. It is my lifeline to the outside world, to my friends, to society who are all, when you think of it, doing the same thing I am - working. This morning when I woke, the first thing I did was reach to my headboard for said iPhone. Yes people, this has become my new morning ritual - wake up, and find out what's up on FaceBook or Twitter. Back to FB.

When I scrolled down my feed, I found my cousin had posted that she was "Working tomorrow, so not down" and that her friend had responded to her post indictating FML - she, too, was working on Sunday. I will readily admit that working on a Sunday isn't the most appealing thing one could do. However, the FML is extremely uncalled for, in my  humble opinion. When I was their age, working on a Sunday was part of the deal. These days, with the economy being what it is, and there being fewer options for part-time work, or even full-time work for that matter, people, especially the "younger" generation should be happy to find jobs that aren't in the fast-food industry; though any job is good at this point in time. I was quite disappointed to see this post from my cousin. For me, a job meant having spending money, moving into the adulthood part of my life, and above all, monetary freedom. It meant I no longer needed to rely on some petty allowance from my parents - I finally had my own money, with which I could do what I pleased for the most part. It meant I could start planning for my future, but it also meant I was now someone who was employable. It meant I had skills that people could seek out in me, and it was an opportunity for me to learn something new, something I could excel at. And, it meant sometimes I would have to work on Sundays.

I now work full-time at a job I probably enjoy less than the part-time job I had when I was in university. I make more money, but you know what? When it's crunch time, I still work Sundays! And when I work Sundays, I don't have the opportunity to work with people, I get to sit at home with a laptop and pray that I get the work done before I get distracted. ALL jobs suck at one point in time or another - no matter how much you love what you do, there are always a few downfalls - but you have a job! Be happy that you have one! And also remember that some people, they work every Sunday because their job is such that they have to - that is the only job they can have, and there is a good chance that their money goes to supporting a family - not funding a Saturday night bender with friends, or a trip down south.

So my message to today's somewhat jaded youth - if you want Sundays off, keep going to school and working the part-time jobs with Sunday shifts. And if you make it REALLY big in today's world, then don't be so quick to push Sunday work days out of your mind - those who make it big work hard all the time, including Sundays. And finally, working on a Sunday, in Canada, in the winter no less, really isn't that bad - if you're going to spend the entire day inside lounging around, you might as well be inside making money, no?

My deep thoughts for this Sunday...Now, I am off to go enjoy some football and junk food, because THIS Sunday, I don't have to work. I did say THIS sunday - next week could be a different story.

-Milie B.