The Double Nod

Have you ever noticed that when two men spot each other on the sidewalk, say, they do this double nod of the head as a non-verbal 'hey'?

I have only ever seen men do this little gesture of recognition.

Do you know what I'm taking about? And more importantly, does anyone know of a documented case of a female successfully pulling off the Double Nod?

I've tried, but it feels clunky and weird. Is there a gene I'm missing?

The 27-28 theory

I have a theory about women between the ages of 27-28. This theory was born of my own experiences at that age, and it was further confirmed with the experiences of almost every woman I know. Not exaggerating here.

So here it is:

Women ages 27-28 undergo a massive shift from the angst-ridden and messy uncertainty of their 20s in preparation for the more focussed and confident 30s. On the inside, it feels like insanity, but if you don't weaken, you begin to discover important realizations bubbling up through the noise.

• What you really want to do.
• What you really don't want to do.
• Who you want to be with.
• Who your real friends are.
• How to make your ideal life happen.
• What's happiness?
• And how you intend to find it.

As a result: friendships and relationships may morph or come to end, career paths change, attitudes towards your environment are transformed, plans for marriage and children are hatched, bodies begin to reshape, etc.

It's kind of like a second adolescence - but you have better shoes and a little more money.

It's an awful period but it's important work that needs to be done -- survived. As I approach 37, I'm beginning to wonder if there's another shift ahead and what it will mean for who I eventually become in my 40s. Whatever happens, I'll keep you posted.

Not selling yourself short

In his Free Will horoscope for Pisces this week, Rob Brezsny notes, "...I believe you should err of the side of being somewhat self-promotional to compensate for your self-deprecating tendencies."

I don't like to think of myself as easily classifiable, but in this case, I fall squarely into Rob's Piscean portrait. My ability to self-deprecate is a long-standing talent of mine - my mother unwittingly spoon fed it to me during my youth and today, it's a tiger I get to tame every day.

For example, it's not unlike me to point out something missing in the food I've just prepared. Or to apologise for the state of my coat.

It's not that I'm digging for compliments. In fact, I have a terrible time accepting compliments (but that's a whole other bowl of fish). It's more that I'm constantly expecting criticism, and so, in a pre-emptive strike, I speak the criticisms first so that the words of others can't hurt me.

As in, I'm just saying what (I think) the rest of you are thinking. And if I can be funny at the same time, all the better! In general, it's all very tiring and I don't recommend it. There are far more entertaining hang-ups to have, I'm sure.

What I love about the return to freelance, is that the drive to earn a living is helping me to overcome the self-deprecation reflex. Lately, I'm all about presenting myself as a confident and experienced writer who has a lot to offer her clients. Because I am! My tone is positive and enthusiastic. I'm meticulous about my work and put a lot of forethought into every sentence I write.

The thing is, it's working. I'm developing strong relationships with my new clients. The mandates I'm entrusted with are challenging, and new opportunities are coming my way. There's no fake-it-until-I-make-it... I'm really making it this time.

So why am I maintaining this self-deprecating tendency in other aspects of my life? If you have a few minutes today, take a poke through your own life and see if you can't find some aspect where self-deprecation is dragging you down. Do you really deserve such harsh judgment from yourself?

What might change about the situation if you took a different attitude?

Social thuggery

The LA Times recently published a compelling piece of commentary by Amy Alkon. In it, she writes that screaming children, loud cell phone talkers, and other disruptive people are committing acts of "social thuggery" that "steal our attention" and "wear away at our patience".

Alkon does make some very good points and she exaggerates a few, but the 236 comments that follow the article fall on both sides of the argument.

It just got me thinking about an incident on the metro last week.

I was riding home on the orange line - running a mild fever and burrowing my head into my elbow to lessen the pounding in my temples. A young couple parked their monster-sized stroller right behind me. I wouldn't have noticed but their young son started screaming as soon as the train rolled forward.

Piercing, high-pitched screams that had me on the verge of tears -- and with eight stops to go.

It quickly became obvious to me that the child only screamed while the train was moving. The father's reaction? Negotiating with the two-year old. Other passengers on the train started to get twitchy.

Finally, the mother, who was sitting in a single seat nearby, stood up and brought her son a bottle of milk. There was a tangible release of tension in the car.

What if we occasionally stopped to observe the situation and assess the needs of someone other than our self? The father was embarrassed and wanted his son to stop screaming. He didn't really understand why the child was screaming. The boy's mother, however, was far more attuned to her son's discomfort and the discomfort of those around them.

Same thing with loud cell-phone talkers. Have you ever noticed that most of their conversations begin with, "Nothing much, just waiting in line for coffee." They're on the phone because they're bored and they don't really understand how disruptive their meandering one-sided conversation is disturbing the peace of others.

Observe. Assess. Act accordingly.

Maybe?

I love my mother a lot

I really do. I look like her side of the family. I inherited many of her traits. No one loves me more. She's always the first one to offer help - no matter how large the task.

Even if she throws out the occasional brilliant comment like - "Is it that you don't want a boyfriend?" or "Wouldn't it be great if you moved back home?" - she's still my mommy.

Yesterday night we were on the phone.

Ma: I was speaking to your Aunt Franca (in the photo) last Sunday . She was asking about you.

Me: That's nice. What did you say?

Ma: That you were busy at work, as usual. That's it!

That's when it hit me. My mother knows very little about my life. She knows the general outlines, but things that are important to me aren't important to her.

For my mother, highlights are health, employment, real estate, marital status, having children.

If I was to sum up my life, there would be a lot more to say:

• I write stuff. I make up stories in my head and I write them down and they're good.
  
• I really love teaching yoga and it's becoming an important part of my life.
• I have vast community of friends, fellow artists and colleagues who support, inspire and love me every day.
  
• I'm a good copywriter but am excited about transitioning into online community management.
• I love movies and music and dance - especially ballet, tango and contemporary.
• If I could do stuff over and pick a new career, I would be a dancer and dance for Hofesh Schecter.
• Nothing makes me heart beat faster than a smart boy with a nice pair of glasses.
• I'm becoming a fabbo vegetarian cook.

All of these small things make my life an endless source of wonder, but they only have minimal register with my mother. We are two creatures born in different times, with different experiences, but I still wish there was a way I could communicate even some of this to her in language she could understand.

You know you live in the Plateau when...

...you can't go out of the house without running into someone you know.

Back when I lived in NDG/Montreal West, I could run out to the pharmacy wearing dirty sweatpants and my hair pulled back into a sloppy ponytail. The chances of running into someone I knew were slim - and there certainly weren't any attractive/available men wandering the Cote-St-Luc Shopping Centre.

I could have worn a potato sack. No one would have noticed.

Right now I need a few things from PA, but I'm too lazy to get properly dressed, etc.

Maybe if I put on a little blush?

Beautiful, Part II

The parents called from Italy this morning.

My mother still thinks that long distance technology is stuck in the 1960s, so after a few minutes of listening to her yell through the receiver, I was duly passed to my more-reasonably-toned father.

"Brutta!" he bellowed down the line.

I giggled and answered, "Hi, pappino!"

Brutta, as you may or may not know, is the Italian word for "ugly".

My father and I have had the same schtick for years. When I was little, he would come into the house and call out, "Brutta!" I would pretend to be all upset and then (if he wasn't too dusty), I'd give him a hug and a kiss.

My mother might sometimes interject with a "You know he doesn't mean that, right?"

I'd usually give her the big eyeroll before adding, "Of course he doesn't!"

Interestingly, I never once doubted that my father thought I was the most beautiful girl in the world, but until a few years ago, I truly believed that if she could, my mother would change what I look like and who I am.

It took a very long time for me to understand how my mother truly feels about me - and I'm glad to have made it here.

But how did it happen that I only questioned my mother and never my father? Can it be chalked up to the always difficult mother-daughter relationship? Or is it more to do with the father-daughter relationship?

Thoughts?

Four things to know about Adriana

Have you ever sat down and made a list of your particular quirks? I have - and thought I might share it with you all in the interest of improving our friendship. That is, if you know the following stuff about me, you're less likely to get all flustered with me.

• Walking time. If you ask me how long it will take to walk somewhere, automatically add 5-10 minutes to whatever time I tell you. This inability to correctly estimate travel time is due to two factors: (1) I have a naturally fast walk, and (2) I'm terrible with estimating time (which may also impact point three on this list).
  
• Toilet paper. So you're using my facilities and there doesn't seem to be any toilet paper left. Before you start hollering, check the top of the tank, the top of the radiator and the edge of the tub first. I am notoriously bad at replacing the toilet paper roll, but there's always a roll closeby.
• Making rice. I can never remember how to make rice. On the heat, off the heat, stir, don't stir...ack! Please don't be shy - help me make rice whether we're at my house or yours. I will really appreciate the help.
• Walking straight. If we're walking down the sidewalk together and it feels like I'm slowly pushing you into the street, don't worry! I'm not trying to kill you - I just walk crooked. Simply let me know or gently guide me back to the straight path.

I'm sure there's more. Stay tuned.

He's just not that into you

For one of our Saturday night dinner/movie soirées, Powell brought over He's Just Not That Into You.

The movie wasn't particularly compelling - or enlightening. There's a strong performance by Jennifer Connolly and I'd watch Bradley Cooper peel potatoes, so it was somewhat entertaining on occasion.

The thing is, I'm not entirely convinced by the whole theory backing this film.

Alex, played by The Mac Guy, introduces the audience to the "he's just not that into you" concept. Although I am mostly in agreement with what he says, at the end of the movie he only figures out that he's into Gigi after she's walked away from him.

I want to amend the concept to: "He's just not that into you, unless you're not that into him, and then maybe he might change his mind".

Is that not snappy enough though? Too long for a book title?

What you don't know about your parents

We're all of a certain age here, aren't we? We have life experiences. We've shared in the life experiences of our friends. We've all made mistakes. We got some stuff right. And then we made more mistakes.

C'est la vie.

Maybe some of you have children, or have friends with children. Think about all the drama in your life that your kids don't know about. Or are too small to understand.

Now imagine all the drama that (probably) happened in your parents' lives that you'll (probably) never know about.

It occured to me the other night while sitting at the kitchen table with a friend, her offspring sleeping in the other room. We talked about the relationship issues, being on the brink of separation, the money issues, the therapy... the triumphs and the lows. Chances are, her relationship will be rebuilt on stronger foundations without the offspring ever knowing how close they all came to disaster.

I have so many memories - some even documented by photographs - of me playing in the kitchen while my mother gossiped with her friends over a cup of coffee. Of being sent to bed so that the adults could talk. Whispers of illness and death that I didn't understand - or care to understand.

What secrets were they telling, so confident that I wasn't listening? What secrets were your parents telling while you played with pots and pans in the corner?

Diamond engagement rings

When: Tonight

Place: Kilo

Who: Me. Ladypants. Maur.

What: Discussing a common friend who is orchestrating every aspect of her engagement ring before her boyfriend has even proposed.

Ladypants: I think you should just be happy with whatever ring your boyfriend buys you. I would!

Ad: No. No, you wouldn't. I know plenty of females who have said the same thing, but when they were surprised with the engagement ring, they were very - very - disappointed.

Maur: The engagement ring is something symbolic, but a lot of women just want to show if off to friends and have the ring. If I were given the choice between buying a ring and say - taking a trip to Asia for a month - I would rather get engaged with a trip.

Ad: It's definitely a symbolic thing and if a ring is the desired symbol, that's okay, but you still have to deal with the possibility that the woman will be disappointed. And not necessarily because the diamond isn't big enough. I think I might be disappointed that my boyfriend doesn't know me well enough to give me something that he knows I'll appreciate.

Ladypants: And where's the element of surprise if you're controlling everything from the start? 

Ad: If the guy were smart, he'd ask her best friend to shop with him. The BFF knows.

Maur: If the guy were smart, he wouldn't marry someone who only cared about diamonds.

Ladypants: Let's get candy!

So are we a bunch of candy-loving idealists, or did we get close to the heart of the issue?

Sign I have been living alone too long

This morning, I showered and moisturized, as I am wont to do. But while I was getting dressed, I realized that I had missed a few spots with the cream. I said the following out loud:

"Oh, no! I forgot my arms! Sorrrry arms!"

Thankfully, my arms did not answer. I think I need a pet or something...

No, you're not crazy.

So a few days ago I asked you - friends, readers, countrymen - what question do you pose most often to your best friend. I added my own response - "Am I crazy?" - to get the flow going. Perhaps I influenced the type of response I would receive by asking that question (all the psych majors in the house please stop shaking your heads), but the milk has been spilt, so let me just get to the cleaning up part.

"Yes. But WHY?"

Stating the obvious: We rely on our best friends to give us the perspective to understand situations (or people) that are beyond our immediate understanding. 

"It's not just me?"

Said situations (or people) are beyond our immediate understanding because our emotions are clouding our ability to perceive the situation realistically. Clearly put, you're too *fekked up* to see what's right in front of your nose.

"Am I fucked up in the head?"

So we ask for clarity - using the various formulations you see here. Hoping to get compassion, agreement, validation and kindness from a trusted source - a familiar source.

"Are they all stupid?"

These formulations are tinged with a little indignation, as if some part of us is already convinced that the answer will fall in our favour. But we ask anyway. Needing to hear the answer in order to convince the rest of us that we are right to be feeling whatever it is that we are feeling.

"What is WRONG with THESE people?"

If you are very lucky, you have the kind of best friend that will give you that compassion, agreement, validation and kindness - when needed. And if you're very, very lucky, she gives it to you freely, happily and genuinely.

"Am I on glue?"

All this to say - I want to thank my BFC3R2WZ9 for being a reliable pair of eyes when mine are just too tired to see. If in the next 50 or so years of our friendship, you require said service, I will only be too happy to oblige. Even if it means sneaking bottles of merlot into the retirement home and pretending to agree that Bob down the hall is a good catch because he has most of his own teeth.

 Happy Random-Monday Powell

Thinking and knowing

A few months ago I was getting a haircut when my coiffeuse Samantha mentioned a segment she heard on the 'Ceeb in which the interviewee stated the following (more or less):

'Nowadays people tend to say what they think and not what they know.'

Considering the proliferation of blogs, wikis, and model/movie star/handbag designer/professional volleyball players being interviewed on the evening news, these words ring eerily true. The media landscape is awash with mouthy commoners (like moi) and sparkling personalities who have plenty to say about everything - and an attentive audience ready to take their words and pass them on regardless of their truthiness.

Example: Tom Cruise's assertion that post-partum depressed woman should be treated with vitamins and exercise so diminished the scope of this malady in the media that Brooke Shields and experts had to step forward immediately and make counter-statements to prevent further misconceptions.

If the Unabomber had said something similar, people would have curled their lips in disgust and ignored him completely. But since it was handsome-actor-slash-hero Tom Cruise, no chances could be taken. TC never studied to be a doctor, but I don't think that really matters when you can persuasively play one on tv.

That being said, I don't think "nowadays" is the correct term. Broken telephone has existed since the beginning of time, as have big talkers, know-it-alls, and smartasses.

What's changed is that nowadays, technology has multiplied the rate at which information flows (and it's only getting faster) thus exponentially increasing the number of people who will be exposed to that information.

What's amazing is not that humans like to think they know more than they actually do.

It's that they now have unlimited tools to spread that particular illusion.

New year, same old pretension

Overheard in the Provigo

Trendy gay male: Where are you going for New Year's? We're going to a rave.

Trendy white female: I'm looking more for a reggae-old-style-dancehall kind of thing.

Comment: So who is more cool in this showdown?

Overheard at our office Christmas party

Unknown party crasher: Will any world music be coming on?

Drunk colleague: You don't like Justin Timberlake?

UPC: I can't ask a girl to dance unless it's world music.

Comment: Lonely, lonely man. Is that why you're crashing office parties?

Be careful. For the kids.

Sign spotted on country roads near Riviere Rouge this weekend. Classic. Can you imagine how the creative meeting must have proceeded for this gem?

"Ok, so we need to make this sign more impactful. It's not enough to say, 'watch out for our kids'. We need something to make drivers think twice about speeding."

"You're right. Let's add a visual. How about the silhouettes of children crossing the street?'

"Nah! Too boring. Been done before. This sign needs to scare drivers with the reality of the consequences."

"What would you suggest?"

"I'm seeing one child. A child who has just been hit by a car. His cherubic face turned towards the road, his eyes closed, his fate uncertain, no mother to soothe him..."

"But how do we know he's been hit by a car? Do we see the car? Taillights dimming in the distance? Skid marks?"

"No, no, too heavy-handed that. We need more drama. I don't know... maybe tear his shirts in a few places?"

"Oooh, yeah, yeah! And maybe he's only wearing one shoe! The other lost when he was hit!"

"Good idea. But the lonely shoe on the highway image has been overused. It's trite. Oooh! Oooh! I'm a genius! Let's also pull the sock off a little! The driver will definitely notice the missing shoe then. It will add another layer of pathos."

"You are a genius, boss! Should we also add some blood around the head?"

"Too crass there, junior. Crosses the boundary of bad taste. Get the artist on it immediately."

"Yes, sir!" 

Saturday night quotes

Some of the following content may be objectionable. If you are unsure whether or not this blog post is for you, please seek parental approval before proceeding.

And without further ado, here are the funniest things I have recently heard uttered on a Saturday night:

• "Femme saoule au Vol de Nuit." -heard in a taxi, dispatcher speaking to driver
• "When he said something about 'releasing a new Terminator', I thought he was referring to the fart he was about to let rip," -Powell, about Sugar Daddy, while looking at movie poster
• "You cannot have a spontaneous rimjob." -C.E., while nibbling sushi
• "Um, about the coriander shrimp dumplings, could you tell me what's in those, please?" -Powell (obviously, although some of you are probably surprised that she didn't make the previous comment too)

Laissez les bon temps rouler!

How to get in trouble with your mom

[Right before my nice Italian mother and I started a painting project]

MA: You should make the sign of the cross before we begin.

AD: Umm, why?

MA: To ask God to bless what we're about to do. Don't you believe in God?

AD: Not in the same way you do.

MA: Then who do you think made you?

AD: You. And. Dad.

MA: Give me the roller, please.

Don't kids say the craziest things? [giggle]

Tuesday absurdity

Inspired by Tha Connaisseur and her hilarious Monday madness posts, I bring you Tuesday absurdity, or pretentious displays that made me "cuss, cringe and shake my head". It may not be an alliterative title, but I assure you, the content is quality.

1) This is Goop (thanks Manon D). Guess what? Gwyneth Paltrow is a better person that you are, and now she has the website to prove it. As G tells us in the opening page, "My life is good because I am not passive about it" and so she encourages us, "Don't be lazy". The solution to not being lazy, apparently, is visiting her website often to be inspired by her recipes, experiences, and shared thoughts from "one of my sages".

I imagine the greatness of her life has nothing to do with being born to Hollywood parents, being a successful actress, having married a rock star, and rolling around in enough money to make God blush in shame. Nooo, it's that vegetarian lasagna she made last week...

2) Plateau party invitation. Now, out of respect to a very dear friend of mine, I will not reveal how this little treasure fell into my hands. And I certainly won't reproduce it in it's entirety, but rest assured that the whole message is equally "WTF?"

Would you have attended this party "without the social crutches of alcohol and other substances making our minds fall back asleep"?

• PROGRAM: I will probably initiate a talking circle (based on the millenium tradition of Native peoples of the Americas) and/or a collective reflection and writing exercise. Should you have any ideas, inspiring texts, poems, pieces of visual art, etc., that you wish to share with welcoming and curious souls, please allow yourself to share this impulse!

• FOOD, DRINKS: Please note that i do not intend to organize any "potlacht" (potluck, community meal), neither any percussions jam, since i do not feel like dealing with the "dispersion" that it would create, nor end the night with 1-2 hours of cleaning up in the wee hours or the next morning!

Raw veggies and medicinal herb teas were on the menu. Seriously. And then people wonder where the Plateau gets its reputation.

Ooh, this is giving me a stomach ache... Palanca out!

Looking into other people's houses

One of the great pleasures of living in the Plateau is the ability to walk through quiet, shady streets, where the only movement is the ghostly shadow of trees flickering on the brick houses and the twitch of front curtains as suspicious neighbours press their nose to the front window.

Now that it's colder, I've abandoned my bike and opted for comfortable shoes instead. Walking home from yoga. Strolling to the theatre. Hoofing it to the pharmacy. Whether it's five minutes or 45, whether I'm iPod-equipped or not, I am up to task because as long as I have eyes, I will always be entertained.

Or should I say, as long as y'all keep your curtains slightly parted, I will always be entertained.

When I was in CEGEP and university, I hated taking the bus because a long stretch of the route cut across Westmount. The houses are certainly quite grandiose and sometimes beautiful, but it seemed to me that no one actually lives in Westmount. Other than the glow of a Lalique lamp in the window or the presence of a car in the driveway, you'd be hard pressed most days to find any sign of life in those mansions. It's like all the rich people are safely esconced in the deepest corners of their houses, where poverty and sad things can't reach them.

That's what I love about my neighbourhood - life is right there on the street, honestly represented in all its pecularities. Things I love to get a fleeting glimpse of as I whoosh past your windows:

• The blue flicker of the TV on walls
• Piles of books, hastily stacked in corners
  
• A nice leather couch
• A knife abandoned in a jar of peanut butter on the side table
  
• A laundry basket on the floor (contents optional)

Anyone else out there want to fess up? Come on - you'll feel better!

PS. Photo brought to you by Esteve Favrel.
For more: http://picasaweb.google.com/estevefavrel