Twenty eleven

Seems I’m rarely on time for anything anymore, and though I’ve thought that a 2011 Wrap Up would seem fitting for a while now, it’s now a couple of days into the New Year and I’m just getting around to starting it. And only because I’m sitting idly at the airport (and then as it happens, I’ll finally finish 7 days later by the pool in Juba.)

(I’m still gonna post it in 2011 though. Years Days from now no one will remember or notice, so just go with it)

So here we go, a few stats from this year:

# of countries I’ve visited: 8 (including the world’s newest)

# of pages in my passport consumed: 18

# of flights I’ve been on: 42

# of bags lost in transit: 0 (but with one narrow miss)

# of blog posts written: 45 (including this one, cause remember: we’re pretending I wrote it before New Years)

# of boys I could tell you funny stories about: 10

# of death threats: 1

# of engagements announced by people I love: 4

# of proposals I’ve received: didn’t count, but a few

# of proposals I couldn't refuse: sadly, none

And 11 things I’ve learned or were somewhat major themes in 2011 (in no particular order):

1. Be careful what you wish for

I spent a lot of time and effort to get where I am today. I find it a bit mindboggling that I somehow spent the entirety of my 20’s either in school, or working for just enough money to live off, or travelling. In a lot of ways it means I’ve been pretty damn lucky. In other ways, it also kinda feels like I’m a little behind. But at least I’m now 8 months into my first ever proper job – not a co-op semester, summer job, part time gig, internship or paid volunteering. This is the real deal.  It means real responsibilities, a boss I don’t secretly find incompetent and a hell of a lot more work than I’ve ever had to do before. And very little work/life balance. But while most of my friends are busying themselves making lifelong commitments to partners and offspring, I have a curfew for the first time since I was 17, have to ask for a ride whenever I want to go anywhere, and have lots of people telling me where I can go and what I can do. I am therefore progressing in some respects, regressing in others.

Plus, as I’m sitting in the departures lounge at Pearson, about to head back, I get to look up and see the headline news: 50,000 displaced in South Sudan and thousands feared dead in new clashes. Leaving me to wonder why the heck I ever thought this was a good idea and why I’m going back?

2. It’s ok if your job is the most interesting thing about you. At the moment.

My job is arguably the most interesting thing about me right now. And I guess that’s ok. It kinda feels like it defines me, but mainly (I hope) because my job is attached to a particular lifestyle. One that I won’t always want to be living in this form, due to its all-encompassing nature. But still, for now, it is what it is and I gotta roll with that.

3. It somehow feels less ok if to others, the most interesting thing about your job is where you crap.

So I work in socially, culturally and politically unique places, where really interesting and scary and dangerous things are happening. I don’t talk about a lot of it because that wouldn’t be in my best interest. But what is one of the main things that people want to ask me about? The toilets. (You know who you are). I even found myself squatting in my kitchen over the holidays demonstrating the practicalities of proper squat toilet stance, and admitting that yes, sometimes we ‘miss’.

In response to your interest, I promise an exposé into my toileting facilities. Coming to a computer screen near you, sometime in 2012. Having a bad day? Take solace in the knowledge that at least you have that to look forward to.

4. 30 makes you feel old. But not grown up. For that, you need a cream coloured coat.

This growing up stuff doesn’t feel like it should. I still kinda choke on my words when I have to say out loud that I’m 30. It just doesn’t feel right. I barely consider myself an adult unless it serves my purpose, and respond sympathetically to colleagues and friends in their 30s who look the part and know it (in the opposite of good way; others are totally rocking it). I’ve mostly suspected that I need to buy a house, get married and make some babies before I’ll feel properly grown. Simply sorting out a proper paycheck hasn’t done the trick.

Turns out I was wrong. During Boxing Week shopping, I stumbled upon a cream coloured double breasted car coat. It was $30 on sale and from Old Navy, but when I put that baby on, I was instantly transformed from ‘old’ to ‘grown up’. I had to buy it. Then wore it to the hospital to visit a dear friend who had just given birth to a gorgeous son. She may have just brought a new life into the world, but I just bought a dam awesome coat and felt like a rockstar. I’m not sure who wins that round, but I’m happy to call it a draw.

5. My friends have the right to have children. I have the right to spoil them.

‘Nuf said.

6. Date the boss

Only if you’re into him. And he’s into you. If it’s there, then go for it.

There’s no harm in walking into a new office place on the first day, scanning the surroundings and then pointing across the room and whispering to the friend beside you, ‘him’, to identify the one guy in the office you’d be interested in. Find out moments later that he’s your boss? Meh.

I recommend giving it a go with a boss who won’t be your boss for that long though. I suspect it’s easier that way, which is probably sound advice for any office romance mind you. And try it out not necessarily because he’s the boss, but more so in spite of it. That helps rule out anyone who is too old or gross.

Also, don’t tell anyone. It’s way more fun that way. You can send each other non-work related emails (um, I have a specific kind in mind) and share secret glances, because you both know how naughty and awesome you are being. Having a hard time motivating yourself to get your ass into the office each morning? Dating the boss is remarkably inspirational. (And work trips become way more fun than usual).

7. Don’t discount that which seems absurd

A lot of stuff that goes on around me seems bizarre. I’ve learned to go with the flow, and sometimes only notice how far off the typical path my life has diverged when I’m saying things out loud to people back home.

And then sometimes people back home suggest things that to me seem totally absurd. Like that I should write a book. Which I instinctively brush off as ridiculous and way out of the spectrum of possibility, but perhaps I should sit with it a little longer before dismissing. You know, just to be sure.

8. Time heals all things. Eventually. I hope. (We'll see)

Everyone promises that with time, a broken heart will heal. Trying to make it happen apparently doesn’t work. I’ve tried. Trying to not try to make it happen is also a complete failure. I find this whole ‘time’ theory also possibly bollocks, because 2.5 years later time hasn’t don’t its thing and put me out of my misery. (No tip for you Time, on account of your shoddy service and inadequate attention to detail. I’ll take my business elsewhere, thank you very much.)

What is Time great at? Providing lots of opportunity to add insult to injury.

Technology doesn’t help. Facebook, seriously? Did you have to go and make a timeline that would put front and centre a bunch of stuff that I don’t exactly want to erase, but also don’t want to be reminded of either? It was neatly hidden away where I knew not to look. LinkedIn, same goes for you – you don’t need to suggest everyone you think I know. Cause ya, I might know them, but seeing a certain name in print still takes my breath away. In the opposite of good way. What did I ever do to make you hate me?

Time is also great at providing lots of opportunities to add to the list of guys who weren’t good enough, or weren’t there enough, or just weren’t enough. Leading to the fact that if I need want to leave the country every time I break up with a guy, please let more countries separate so my options don’t dwindle much more quickly than they already have, or else I better find The One pretty soon. I’d prefer the latter, but hey, if I had control over that my life would be hella’ different right now.

You know I’ll keep you posted.

9. Don’t use anti bacterial wet wipes with built in hand sanitizer as a substitute for toilet paper. Ever.

In the absence of good ol’ t.p., it might seem like a reasonable option in a pinch. But you’d be wrong. Very wrong. Tingling in your girly bits might usually be fun, but not this time, and just when you think it can’t possibly burn any longer, it surprises you with its downright persistence.

So ladies, air dry and get on with your day. Trust me.

10. Google is your friend. But not always.

I’ve taken to using the internet as a substitute for a reliable physician. Which doesn’t make a lot of sense, considering I’m surrounded by medical professionals at work. Regardless, I opted to diagnose myself with a bit of eczema with the assistance of the interwebs and our Gender Specialist (why I didn’t ask any of the health team, I’ll never fully understand) and the cream she picked up for me worked wonders. Then I thought it wise to use it to ‘fix’ a small rash that appeared on my face. Months later, after a vicious cycle of face rash – cream – face rash, I returned to Google to find answers, only to learn that I had done this to myself. Apparently you shouldn’t use hydrocortisone on your face. Who knew? Turns out the only way to fix it is to just leave it. So as a result, I’ve been sporting an awesome rash on my chin for most of the last 3 months, which is only slightly less embarrassing than if I had the word IDIOT sharpied across my forehead for just as long.

11. Blog

The bloggersphere is exploding. It’s amazing how many people out there have created interesting stuff for me to read everyday. And it’s all free! Looking for a laugh? Check out my favourite: www.thebloggess.com

Having my own blog is a way for me to take some time out of my time-hog of a job and enjoy some of what goes on around me. I’m glad that some of it makes you laugh, and I apologize to all my friend’s husbands who I’m told have my blog posts read aloud to them in bed at night.

Also a shout out to one of my self-proclaimed biggest fans and lovely neighbour of my grandmother, who is coincidentally also the mother-in-law of a Barenaked Lady (not the naughty one), who, upon meeting me for the first time proclaimed “you make my day!” Now, this is a pretty big accolade, coming from the woman who raised the girl who inspired the song If I Had A Million Dollars (and apparently that promise of ‘I would buy you a house” was kept. Not sure if the monkey worked out – hadn’t she always wanted a mon-KEY? – and next time I’ll be sure to ask about that green dress. How could it be cruel? I’ve always wanted to know.)

So in summary, re: blogging, well, what can I say. I’m a believer. Thanks to everyone who has been following along and sorry for all the swearing. I can’t promise anything but more of the same in 2012 [1].

                                                                                                                                

To end, I have a little request for 2012, if it’s not too much to ask: please be gentle.

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[1] But less about cats. Know that if we had dogs living at our office, I’d be just as in love. But I’m going to shut up about it now.