It was two years ago yesterday that I landed in Toronto! Totally forgot. Might explain why I was in a nasty mood most of today -- my subconscious was pouty because I hadn't paused to pat myself on the back. My mood perked up a bit when I realized my boss and I were in the middle of a serious conversation about which sexually expressive pun he prefered me to clear, from a list of puns I had created. (-- I'd let you in on the choices, except perverts everywhere would then find my website when searching for their relative fetishes) Nothing tickles the funny bone like having a job that requires you to take the absurd seriously (and no, that wasn't the pun). Which also kind of leads to the basis of the back pat...
The idea that someone who fears change with the ferocity that I do would get it into her head to drop everything, drive over three provinces, and begin all over again purely on her own impetus is lunacy. Lunacy! I remember once I got here, I felt like I could do anything -- largely because I would never have thought I could move to Toronto. What else could I do that I always assumed I couldn't?
Looking back on the last two years, I learned what I could do. I think what I learned the most about myself was my resilience. Do you know I was a month away from having to move back to Alberta when I got my job at the tv series? I only had enough money left to stay here one more month, then I would have had to use the remaining money to move back. (I can hear my Mom clutching her fist to her chest and saying "oooh! we were so close!") Every thing I tried that didn't work out, every opportunity I took that didn't lead anywhere, every time I got close to a job but just couldn't seal the deal -- every time I thought about it logically and wondered if I was just fooling myself by even being here -- every time, I just knew I was doing the right thing.
Oh, sure, I'd bitch! The doors slammed in my face were what was happening in my life at that time -- it was share what was happening to me or stare at the wall mute. But I soon figured out that venting the trip-ups helped make space for what I really needed to have: the inner voice that said "forward - even if not far, even if not fast, as long as I move forward, I am on my way". After all, I had moved to Toronto when that was the most ridiculous thing I could imagine a few years ago... apparently I'm not who I thought I was before getting here, and it turns out I can do anything. :) I learned that you can't pick up as much as I did, and move it as far as I had, without blanketing yourself in the mantra of thinking positively -- believing that each closed door is locked for a reason, and that reason is that a door that is an even better fit for you is just around the bend in the hallway.
Turns out I was in the right hallway the whole time, trying the right doors along the way, and found a good fit where -- pen and paper in hand -- I can sit down with my boss to evaluate the relative merits of funny terms for naughty bits. Yay me!
The idea that someone who fears change with the ferocity that I do would get it into her head to drop everything, drive over three provinces, and begin all over again purely on her own impetus is lunacy. Lunacy! I remember once I got here, I felt like I could do anything -- largely because I would never have thought I could move to Toronto. What else could I do that I always assumed I couldn't?
Looking back on the last two years, I learned what I could do. I think what I learned the most about myself was my resilience. Do you know I was a month away from having to move back to Alberta when I got my job at the tv series? I only had enough money left to stay here one more month, then I would have had to use the remaining money to move back. (I can hear my Mom clutching her fist to her chest and saying "oooh! we were so close!") Every thing I tried that didn't work out, every opportunity I took that didn't lead anywhere, every time I got close to a job but just couldn't seal the deal -- every time I thought about it logically and wondered if I was just fooling myself by even being here -- every time, I just knew I was doing the right thing.
Oh, sure, I'd bitch! The doors slammed in my face were what was happening in my life at that time -- it was share what was happening to me or stare at the wall mute. But I soon figured out that venting the trip-ups helped make space for what I really needed to have: the inner voice that said "forward - even if not far, even if not fast, as long as I move forward, I am on my way". After all, I had moved to Toronto when that was the most ridiculous thing I could imagine a few years ago... apparently I'm not who I thought I was before getting here, and it turns out I can do anything. :) I learned that you can't pick up as much as I did, and move it as far as I had, without blanketing yourself in the mantra of thinking positively -- believing that each closed door is locked for a reason, and that reason is that a door that is an even better fit for you is just around the bend in the hallway.
Turns out I was in the right hallway the whole time, trying the right doors along the way, and found a good fit where -- pen and paper in hand -- I can sit down with my boss to evaluate the relative merits of funny terms for naughty bits. Yay me!
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