My favourite gifts not wrapped in a blue box with a white ribbon.

In the spirit of Mother’s Day, here are 5 gifts I received from my Mom over the years.

1. My grasp on the English language.  My Mom has always been a stickler for grammar which has in turn made me into the grammar police I am today.  “She did so good!” – or well, either/or.  Irregardless of that fact – hmm… not a word.  The there’s and the yours, the it’s and its and everything in between.  My Mother is the reason why I publicly correct people, and attack Blackberry messages with a fictitious red pen.  Blame her, not me.

2. My love for cooking but not cleaning. We both love cooking and wearing chic aprons. She learned from her Dad and in turn taught me how to work the stove, however, it is also due to my mom that I have never cleaned a bathtub. Spoiled, I know, but my Mom has passed down the most important value of all to me – hire a cleaning service. Thanks Mommy!

3. My overstocked book shelf. Reading is a huge passion of my Mom’s. I never see her without a book and she can read at the speed of light. In turn, I started reading from a young age which translated into my adoration of everything paperback. Bookstores are like a gateway to heaven and I can thank my Mom for one of my favourite hobbies.

4. The fact that I am a homebody. I go out often, we all know that. However, my favourite thing to do is curl up on the couch and watch a great movie or TV show. My favourite nights have been sitting with my Mom on opposing sides of the living room having a laugh over how into a reality show we both get. Home is truly where the heart is.

5. My ability to blow bubbles off my tongue. Yes it is saliva, and yes if it lands on you it is slightly gross. But what a great trick! One person in every generation of my family can do it and I happened to be the lucky girl in mine. It landed me my spot on the Argos Cheerleading team my first year (I guess I can thank my Mom for my looks that probably assisted with that), as well as the admiration of many onlookers who are perplexed as to where the bubble machine is.

So thank you Mom.

Nothing Short of a Production

The streets will be alive tomorrow in Toronto with sounds of signs being unveiled.  Ed Mirvish, Theatre impresario and Honestly one of Toronto’s most well-known philanthropists, will be honoured on Duncan Street at noon.  My fondest childhood memories come from sitting amidst fellow theatre buffs being amazed by the spectacle produced by Mirvish Productions.  It is locations such as the Pantages (now known as the Canon Theatre), Princess of Wales and Royal Alexandra Theatre that spawned my devotion to smaller theatres such as Buddies, Berkley Theatre and Factory Theatre.  While I never frequented Honest Ed’s, or dined at one of his many restaurants, I will forever be grateful to him for introducing me to an extraordinary passion in my life – the theatre.

The production that made the Pantages an iconic fixture in Toronto and to me is in a league of its own.

Thank you Ed Mirvish.

Jian Ghomeshi vs. Billy Bob Thornton

Q, a Canadian Radio Show on CBC Radio One was reminiscent of the ol’ Cowboy Days yesterday.  All that was missing was a slap of the white glove to denounce a duel.  Jian Ghomeshi had his work cut out for him as Billy Bob Thornton, member of the Boxmasters, was just not having any of his interview.

As he mentions, Q producers were told to not touch upon anything that has to do with his past, including and more specifically referencing his cinematic career.  What troubles Jian, and the Q audience for that matter, is how a celebrity can go on air and think that a point of reference will not be made.  Billy Bob Thornton is not a household name like Brad Pitt – even after tumbling in the sheets with the same starlet – some listeners made need a refresher course into who-the-hell he actually is.

We may be a passive and an “I’m sorry” society, but the puck drops when American’s think they can come up here and toss that notion around like it’s a free pass.  The media doesn’t allow you to just put out your one-sided story.  If you, as a non-actor only Boxmaster (?), want to only talk about your current mod-Hillbilly album — than my friend write a book and in black and white monochromatic scheme entitle it yee-haw.  Otherwise, be prepared to answer the questions.  Talking about model King Kong’s when asked what your musical influences are does not make the host look stupid, it makes you look strung out.

As for the lack of drum-set, that is like showing up to an exam without a no. 2 pencil, it is your grade not ours and this one was simply a Fail.

Blackberry Winter

Baby, I’m back.

It has been a long winter, and Mother Nature still has yet to make up her mind about the season she would like Torontonians to exist in.  That moment in time where it is still chilly yet things are quietly blooming — also known as Blackberry Winter (oddly enough I have survived Winter due to my Blackberry but that is besides the point).

I came to the harsh realization last night/early morning that I have been in a complete and utter writing slump for quite some time.  I haven’t even been reading.  While many may not correlate the two, I believe that reading and writing go hand-in-hand and usually, putting my own finger tips to the keyboard quenches my word-filled-thirst after reading others prose.  I was left to wonder why.  My only reasoning for not writing is a lack of passion and that, my blogging friends, is about to change.

It is never that I am not passionate to write.  Writers write because it is always flowing within them.  However, that “writing block” that I would usually get for a few days quickly became a few months.   Which has left me to sit, ponder through the window pane watching seasons transform and realize that here lies a perfect opportunity to do the same as a writer. Shake off the old and embrace the new.  New topics, new points of view, hell why not a new title for my blog.  Blackberry Winter – where cool, snaps.

Sitting in Neutral

I for a long time have wished for a moment in time where the couch was my playground.  I wanted to be the owner of my remote control, watch entire seasons of television shows in one sitting and eat snacks not meals.  I dreamed of wearing only sweats or pajamas and taking half hour showers because I had the time to.

What a terrible reality it is!!  I recently injured myself which has made my dream my harsh ’slap-in-the-face’ reality.  The first few days could only be described as a Euphoric state of being.  However, now the bed sores are kicking in and I am ready to do something with myself.

This is where I truthfully believe you separate the drivers from the passengers.  I am a driver, and since my couch is in park currently, my itch to attain speed is taking a toll on me.

This is what happens when I sit idly by:

- I start to over analyze… everything.  “If it ain’t broke don’t fix it.”  Well I wish I could stick to that little quote because for some odd and bizarre reason I tend to take everything that is functioning normally and make it into a catastrophe when I have nothing to do.

- I tend to throw my healthy eating down the toilet.  Ice cream bars that are 90 calories are great when you eat just one… case closed.

- I sleep until the afternoon.  My sleep-in time used to be 9 am, and now that number is teetering on 1… pm.  It’s a sad reality, and resembles the life of a teenage boy.

There should be rules to this game!  For example, no texting, bbm’ing, facebooking or msning when in deep thought.  No more than one ice cream bar a day and waking up must occur in the am.

Nevertheless I need to get out of neutral and back into drive.

In the wading pool

Well, well, well… my internship has come and gone and with that – so has my post-graduate program. 22 and finished a degree as well as a certificate program, leaves me to ponder this very insightful question… what the hell am I going to do now???

Recently I was a good friends +1 at a swanky industry party during TIFF. The two of us, dolled up to the nines, meandered around, cocktail in hand to find the 30somethings wondering – who were these powerhouse 20somethings without crows feet? While I flinched at the thought of mentioning the word “intern” (dun, dun, dunnnn) when asked what I did for a living, I slowly realized that my baby face may give it away. I stood beside my 26 year-old guest list go-getting girlfriend who is a standout at her age and is a complete mover and shaker in the media industry. And right there, while flipping through the glossy pages of LUSH magazine, I realized that being an intern ain’t half bad. We all need to start somewhere, so here is where I started getting my feet wet in the wading pool.

I started this blog to serve two purposes – 1) to fulfill a course requirement, and 2) to pass by time during my internship as I was told there would be a ton of downtime. PRivate PRactice initially was set-up to discuss issues in Public Relations (hence the PR in the title) as well as complete course assignments (see post on getting no satisfaction). What I have slowly learned is that my blog has expanded into a forum of my own personal thoughts as well as a more focused run down of the jumbled ideas in my head. I assumed my teacher would read – she was forced to – and possibly fellow classmates who were procrastinating working on client projects. To my jaw dropping surprise, I have found that many of my friends and family have tuned in to see what I write and leave comments or chat with me about topics that I have been so blunt about. Who knew that my wit and charm would attract so many! Yet, the course is done, and so is the internship…

So where do we go from here? Well first and foremost I am taking a break, not so much from blogging, but just from the PR world in general. Having attended school for 20 years without a break from work or the constant cry of 20 page papers, I am traveling and spending a little time on me. As for this blog, I will most likely continue to write about my feelings on branding and the business of Public Relations, but I will also include more of my personal thoughts just as I have recently. The title of this blog stemmed from a television show in which a woman independently starts a new chapter of her life in the corporate world after a turmoil break-up. Following in those same footsteps, I too have re-discovered a lot about who I am through this chapter which I am about to close. There have been growing pains, and pains resulting from 8:30 am classes; but the pay off has been reminiscent of a certain Britney Spears song – and to that I say let the next chapter begin.

So thank you for reading, and keep reading, because if you don’t… I will be rather disheartened!

Mid-twenties Crisis

Sitting in class, a new outfit on that is clearly way too fall for the still summer weather, new notebooks in tow and a fresh new haircut.  For 20 years this has been my day after labour day.  Instead, today I am left with a mid-twenties crisis at the age of 22.  How do you switch from being a student in the classroom to being a student in the workforce? 

While I have to admit, the lack of back to school shopping has left me in a shopping induced a coma, my credit card balance is thanking me.  Yet the joy of hearing the pen hit the dotted line is one I will miss greatly today.  I will also miss the excruciating line up at the bookstore that left me with joint problems in my arms for all of frosh week (novels may not weigh a lot, but 40 do!)  I will also miss trying to be  fierce in my student photo.  I will miss scrambling to find someone, anyone I know in my lecture hall, as well as the first day of introductions and ice breakers.  Not to mention how eager I was to complete all of my readings in the first month of school that tapered off to non-existent reading in March.  This may all be an identity crisis, or it may be a fear of slowly stepping away towards the unknown – either, or – it just isn’t the same at work today. 

Technically I am still a student for the next 3 weeks.  My internship will soon be over, however I will not be sitting in a classroom any time soon.  I am now looking for coping strategies so that I do not wind up in a lecture hall on a random campus analysing Charles Dickens “Great Expectations” from 2nd year Maturation Literature. 

The workplace just doesn’t give you the same school vibe.  There are no pep rallies, pub nights, breaks between clients or places to curl up on the floor.  There are no stickers for a job well done or forced handwriting, no time for reading, or naps and definitely no sweat pants allowed.  My wardrobe now consists of pencil skirts and blouses, dress pants, high heels and designer purses.  My brothers post-pubescent yet still child-like friends go off to school today – and this granny is feeling old (and they don’t let me forget it).

So while I shed a single, and I do mean single tear, over the past 2 decades I have spent at a desk with a seat attached to it, I look forward to being a student of life now (philosophical I know).  After all, I definitely don’t miss the all nighter papers and the clencher – I can still crush on the hot boys of Gossip Girl without being the creepy woman who robs craddles.

Carrie Strut

Most women have done this at some point or another, I just tend to do it a little more often.  Think about one of your favourite chick flicks or go girl television shows.  How many times have you seen the lead character walk through a busy street with a theme song playing that puts an extra pep in her step?  She is often in love and smiling at everything in her path, or just out of love and power-walking to show just how over him she really is. 

That’s me walking down Bloor, disconnected from the world through white headphones that are connected to my iPod.  Locate the shuffle feature, flip through a few songs and find the one that has a beat and a message worth strutting to.  This morning for some odd reason is was, “I Love You, Always Forever” – Donna Lewis.  While it has some serious walking beats at the beginning, I am left to wonder why on earth I chose to listen to a love song this morning?!  I also read a book with a full out love scene amidst the sand in my PG-13, until 7:30am this morning, book.  Is life truly trying to bite me in the ass?  Can’t a girl strut without being bombarded by the love bug from every angle.

Let’s even further trace back my steps this morning.  I thought I had walked in on a porno this morning at the Kiss & Ride.  I get it, Kiss and then Ride, but the PDA was off the charts.  The glance back and coy smile was enough to tell me this was new love.  Then my book, then my song, and then the onslaught of good looking men in suits - give me a break!  I started to really wonder on my walk if I was living in my very own unedited version of Sex and the City, I was just missing my heels.  It seems as though when you least expect it, life will say, “would you like sugar and irony with your coffee this morning?” 

Nevertheless, I felt as though I was in my own movie intro, and since my life currently resembles that of a sit-com, I hope it turns into a romantic comedy sometime soon.  The one where the impossible becomes the possible – or if anything less, I get my own strutting sequence.

Reading is fun, and then some…

Every morning I read.  Every evening I read.  Every night I read.

Now I am not the only one.  Some read to pass the time on a train, some to gain an understanding of a life they do not know, some simply read to take themselves far away from the life they currently have.  Some read for words, some read for passages and others read for chapters.  Some thrive off of the turn of the first page, while others rejoice in the final pages punctuation.  Regardless of the reasons why anyone reads, the simple point is that reading changes lives.

I have always been an avid reader, which is what led me to my undergraduate degree – English.  I have also always been an avid writer.  Whether it be mere prose or poetry written to clear my thoughts at 4 o’clock in the morning, writing is a therapeutic art form that allows you to spill your heart onto a page – and I do.  What I have found is that the intertwining of the two has propelled me to understand why I read in a different way. 

I read to feel something.  Anything really.  Different books provoke different emotions which truly is the joy of reading.  It all depends on your state of mind, what you are seeking to receive from the text on the page.  I spent four years reading for content, plot, character development, themes, hidden subtext and more.  While I do sometimes find myself wondering when the protagonist is going to get a sense of self in my latest bildungsroman, I read more with a keen eye for worth. 

Recently I have been racing through a lot of novels on spirituality and the meaning of life.  All have different philosophies such as; “Eat, Love, Pray” by Elizabeth Gilbert, “Tuesday’s with Morrie” by Mitch Albom and currently “Way of the Peaceful Warrior” by Dan Millman.  Now there have been some chick lit novels thrown in for giggles, but besides that, reading books that make you think is what I am intrigued by. 

These are the real page turners, the ones that keep you reading for fear that you still have lessons to learn.  I read for the ability to put down a book and question my place in life, where I am at and where I would like to go.  A book that makes me open my eyes to the world around me, the world I do not know, and the world that I would like to roam.  These are not easy books to find, mostly I feed off of recommendations from those who want a challenge out of their own lives just as I do (all 3 titles mentioned above were recommended by great friends).  While I am no expert in this genre, one note I can make is that each will transform your life in a different way than it has mine.

I believe whole-heartedly that I will acquire a different sense of self than you, you who is reading my blog, will… even if we both read the same novel.  For example, “Tuesday’s with Morrie” is about a professor with ALS who instead of fearing his own death, is turning his death into his last class to teach.  He taught the meaning of life, which was broken into different parts, just as life is.  He did not claim to be an expert on the topic, yet that he was.  While many would take away the importance of accepting death so that they may live life, I was side-tracked.  The only thing I could collect was that when you are older, and possibly living through an illness that will inevitably kill you, connections with people matter.  Deep connections, connections that shake your core and cause you to think.  We are all very quick to make connections based on looks or shared interests, and keep those connections based on comfort and convenience.  At 80-years-old I hope to have connections with those who I can have a conversation with in an empty room, possibly one that I am no longer physically able to move from, and still feel as though my life has meaning and is worthwhile.  Whether these connections are with friends, family members or most importantly my life partner, that is what I felt Mitch Albom’s book was saying to me.  No more glossed over relationships, look for what is deep in order to persevere through the challenges of daily life.

I would bet my next pay cheque (it’s an interns salary keep in mind) that anyone else who has read this book would have resonated with something dissimilar.  Or, if you hadn’t, than possibly that piece of the puzzle was exactly what you were looking for through those scattered words on the page.  Regardless, it’s exciting to travel through those words in order to discover the meaning for you.

I will still continue reading terrible books that receive bad ratings because they are fluff novels with no substance.  However, I will keep my mind open always to those books that choose to create an impact on my own existence.  Bottom line - I will continue to read because what a waste of a brain without it.

Judgement Days

Kyrgyzstan, Togo, Uzbekistan.  What do these 3 countries have in common?  More medals than Canada!  Now I am promising this post will not be about the efforts of the Canadians in Beijing, nor their slightly “cheerleader” like attitudes towards the games (beating your personal best does not excuse you for coming in last).  However, when did I become a gymnastics judge? 

I have learned that the Olympics makes us all one thing, a collective bunch of critics.  Let’s get this straight – and this is extremely shameful for me to admit – I cannot do a cartwheel.  A simple cartwheel and I have been a cheerleader for the past 9 years of my life.  Yet I sit, night after night, critiquing the efforts of exceptional athletes.  Am I serious here?  With a bowl of ice cream I might add. 

I know I am not the only one who does this.  We won’t stand behind our athletes, we’re quick to pass judgement on those who excel in their sport, and yet we are the ones lying on the couch?  We don’t even put as much effort into this as those who sit and pretend they know every last detail of the game of hockey.  Once every two years we become Olympic experts who know NOTHING about the sports we are critiquing. 

He didn’t hold that plank like pose long enough on the rings (Maltese… I learned that last night).  And you call THAT a double twist full layout?!  He might as well not even be in the pool…

I don’t see these people sitting in front of my desk criticizing my job – is that really how you are going to answer the phone?

Now I am definitely not saying that we should get behind Canada these games… I support the country that produced the greatest thing to happen to the sport of swimming… but what I am wondering is where we all get off being so judgemental. 

“Those who can’t do, teach…” – well what do you do if you can’t do either… JUDGE!