Up We Go

Hey look! It’s me blogging again!

I apologize if anyone has missed my stories, but I kind of needed a breather. I needed to sort through some emotions & cope with some stuff. I’m not quite in the “happiest girl in the world,” place, but I really need to go back to what I know & find joy in what I’m best at. Mostly, because I need to find confidence in what I do best. 

For the last few months, I’ve kind of felt like a failure. I couldn’t get through to someone & it was really important to me that I did, because they are very important to me & I wanted them to stop coming & going from my life while stalking me from the sidelines & just be here with me. It made me question my talents. I contemplated focusing on my regular people job & not writing anymore. I was quite good at it. I worked really hard & finally got the promotion I had been striving for…& it was all gone in three weeks. Everything basically sucked giant ass. Add in that my new job is…uh…different, and you have a pretty blah MHC. 

So, during my bliggity downtime, I decided to figure out how to make myself happy MHC again. Part of it was to force myself to write stuff. Most of it totally sucked. But I had to realize that if someone doesn’t want to be happy, by their own admission, nothing I say can change their mind. They need to grow up on their own. So, I worked on finding my voice by doing other things. I focused on crossfit, yoga, & even entered a crossfit competition! I’m not setting any records, but I brought the Overlord to the Crossfit Open & she was amazed at how strong women could be & that Mommy could be strong too (but couldn’t figure out why the coach yelled at me during a power clean & jerk. I explained to encourage me. She still didn’t get it haha).

But I still wasn’t writing. This made me feel…weird. I should always be writing. That’s what I do, right? I’ve defined my life by my profession. I am MH & I am a writer. That’s who I am & what I do. I got home from work at my current job & realized that I was becoming someone I don’t like; sad, lonely for my old coworkers & homesick for a life that I can’t put together when only one person gets that you have to work at it. Oh, and I REALLY hate my job. But being sad’s not really my scene anymore. So, I decided to do something about it. I have A LOT of money in a separate bank account thanks to the good people at Glentel (which is now my relocation fund) & daughters who emulate me. They need to see that dreams don’t stop because everything kind of sucks. So, I decided it’s high time I went after mine. 



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I spruced up my resume. I put together some compelling cover letters. I bought an adorable interview outfit…& applied to probably every magazine & newspaper in this country, including the arctic. Why? Because only I have the power to change my direction. Some people mope; I get stuff done. There is one magazine that is hiring for my dream position. I’ve done everything I can to improve my employability, including joining the province’s magazine publisher’s association, this week I’m getting a driver’s license (FOR REAL GUYS) & I may have followed up already because I have no chill. But I’m qualified & talented & I’m going for it.

It’s a BIT of a move, but it’s worth it. I’m always considering the Dad when I’m deciding things for me, but didn’t I divorce him so I didn’t have to do that anymore? He doesn’t even spend time with the girls when he has them, why should I put their future & mine on hold to make his life easier? I won’t sacrifice the chance to have my dream job for anyone anymore. I have an obligation to show my girls that everything is attainable if you try. So, I’m going to try. 

Maybe I’ll crash & burn & no one will hire me. Maybe I’m not talented @ all. But, much like crossfit, much like every relationship I’ve had, parenting, and even working at the job I loathe, I’ll always give it my all & TRY. You miss all the shots you don’t take & the only person who holds you back from what you deserve is you. I won’t hold myself back; I’m going to keep trying until I reach my goals. 

So, if I seem more neurotic than usual, it’s because I MAY be turning my life upside down in the pursuit of a byline. I promise I’ll keep it to a minimum. In the interim, I’m going to enjoy the journey, because it’s gonna be totally rad. 



Like You Ain’t Even Gone

Oh, hey guys. Did something happen recently?
Like a big thing? Could it be that my company went under & we all found out on the Internet? Wait. That’s it (well, I didn’t find out on the Internet. I found out from my friend Paul. THANKS PAUL. THANKS A LOT).

That’s right kids; Target is closing and we, their employees (well, I worked for Glentel) found out on the damn Internet. Y’all probably knew before I did. I was getting ready for a conference call with my fellow managers to find out that we were all likely losing our jobs. Hey, cool! I’m still waiting to learn what Glentel has for me, but if nothing comes up, I’ll move into my new job that starts February 9/15. Phew.

I feel for those who are not in my position, with a job and a safety net lined up. I was already prepared because I had become disenchanted with my phone career back in November & applied for a new job. Then I was offered a promotion to stay on. So, when this came up, I just called the other job to see if they’d take me. So, you may all stop asking me what’s up, there’s been some uncertainty & there still is, no matter what, I have a job to go to. I am good & I thank you all for the concern.

However, most of you know that. I am REALLY good in a crisis. Really good. On the morning of the bombshell, my best friend the Psych Major texted me & said “you have a plan. What’s your plan?” My mom said the same thing; it had been two hours, obviously I had a plan. For those of you who haven’t seen me much & remember the sad girl who would rush to Drew’s couch & cry in the fetal position; she is long dead. Now I’m the friend who gets the calls of “HOLYSHITMHTHISISHAPPENINGHELPMEWHATDOIDO?!” while I talk them down. I’ve become the rational & logical one…& my mom & my closest friends knew:

1. I had a plan
2. I was already on step 6 of the plan
3. I probably already had another job and two offers.

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My personal life may never be what I want it to be, but my professional one is always successful. I am a double college grad with sales, management & public relations experience. The number of sick days I’ve taken at Target Mobile is zero. I’m never late. I’m highly employable. I know what I’m worth to an employer & I make sure they understand that. Egotistical? Maybe. But I’m competing in a job market with a lot of people, a number that just went up by 17599. You’ve gotta set yourself apart somehow & for me, that’s flat out saying “I am an asset. You know it, I know it. So hire me.” So I do. And they did. I have the security of knowing my family was taken care of 24 hours after I was told I was losing my job…by my friend Paul, WHO READ IT ON THE INTERNET. I’ll always thrive in my professional life and get what I want in the end. When it comes to my working life, I will always be successful. I’ll always rise to the challenge and weather minor crisis just like the bad ass that I am.

So, crisis averted in 24 hours. I will have no period of unemployment and my apologies to Damanda, but I won’t be coming home any time soon, not to visit, not to live, not for a long time. But I DO know my children are provided for and that’s all that matters to me in the end.

I won’t lie; it kind of feels like life has kicked me in the teeth. Two months ago, I had everything I had ever wanted. I had my job, my writing career taking off, my family & the person I’ve always felt is the love of my life. Then it all got slowly chipped away until I didn’t even have a job. But the thing is; sometimes life does that. It sucks, but you get back up. I used to feel like “omg why me?” But I am no victim of life’s bullshit. I am Mary-Helen & I’m pretty bad ass. I used to lay down & die when bad things happen, but now I thank the universe for them. No, I am not crazy. Obviously, God, the universe, fate, etc. feels that I am strong enough to weather the storms & get through the bad times. So, thanks for having faith in me! Besides, they never last. I had a few days of uncertainty & things came together because I had a plan. The good times will always be more amazing because I got through some bad crap to get there. I’ll always be that eternal optimist finding the shiny happy lining when everything sucks.

But maybe that’s the secret to getting through life; following the brilliant lessons laid out in the campfire song about the lion hunt. When you find the tall grass, you can’t go over it or under it, you gotta go through it & then you’ll be fine.

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Lie To Me

When I was a little girl, all I wanted to be was a reporter.

When other little girls were playing house with their baby dolls, little MHC was dropping her dolls off @ baby doll daycare & covering a fire. Little MHC played “Desert Storm” & she would write articles on loose leaf paper based on CNN coverage. All of my friends thought I was a freak (this has never changed), but this was my calling, not a career. I was going to inform the masses. I was going to make them think. They were going to ask questions of the world, themselves. They were going to trust the information I worked to collect & present & society would be better because people would learn & evolve. After all, people should always be learning, asking questions, collecting information & growing. I was going to change the world by showing people what the world really was & people would want it to be better. I was going to reach someone & make them think & grow. I actually apply this principle to everything in my life. If I stand by something & tell you I believe it with all that I am, you should probably investigate it, because I have & I wouldn’t say it if it wasn’t something I believed was gospel.

Alas, I have done none of these things. I write puff pieces & this blog. Little MHC is probably ashamed. I always justify my entertainment reporting with the idea that I write smart, snappy & honest articles. I only sold my soul a little. But my calling remains; I will be a writer & I’ll try to show the world what the world is really like so it’ll change.

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I have a point, I promise.

Little MHC had one idol growing up; Barbara Walters. This woman asked hard questions. She spoke to world leaders, war heroes. She was bringing the world information that would change how they saw the world. She was a bad ass, no nonsense lady who wasn’t afraid to put these powerful people on the hot seat & make them accountable. I even forgave the existence of the View because it was a good idea in theory. But this woman was literally everything I ever wanted to be (well, professionally. I always kind of knew I’d never have a person, because they’d have to love my writing as much as I do & understand my need to inform & be moved by my writing & care & even suggest things for me to write about).

Even though they’ve gone downhill, I still look forward to her Most Fascinating People series. I don’t always agree, but she always conducts such compelling interviews. This year, she chose Amal Clooney (née Alamuddin) as her most fascinating person of 2014. Interesting choice. Her reason? Clooney’s wedding to her husband, Academy Award winning actor George Clooney was “really one of the greatest achievements in human history.”

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What?

Mrs. Clooney is a fascinating woman. She is educated and uses her education to bring attention to human rights issues. Her focus as an attorney is human rights and extradition. She represented Julian Assange (WikiLeaks) & Yulia Tymoshenko (the former president of Ukraine). She met with world leaders before Global Summit to End Sexual Violence in Conflict. She cut her honeymoon short to attend a case in Greece involving the reparations of ancient statues. Mrs. Clooney is definitely a fascinating woman. But she is considered fascinating because she married a playboy actor, not her body of work.

As an entertainment journalist, I know I am part of the problem. We have put so much focus on Kardashians & ScarJos & J.Los & treat these people as fascinating instead of leaders of men, visionaries & average people who just want to make the world better. Walters completely devalued Mrs. Clooney’s body of work, her dedication to helping her fellow man, her education by claiming her greatest moment in life was landing George Clooney. Because after all, no woman can have any real accomplishments greater than marrying a rich and handsome man.

While yes, celebrities can be fascinating (Taylor Swift), there are so many more people in the world. Of her list of 10, the only non celebrities were Mrs. Clooney & Elon Musk. In a world where Ferguson is happening, there is political unrest in Russia, the American political system continues to be flawed, where planes disappear, discrimination is still rampant, sexism is real & racism is fatal. We live in a world where, despite all of these things, beautiful acts of heroism & kindness happen. We live in a world where beautiful people try to make it beautiful every day. All of those things produce fascinating people & someone’s ability to land a man shouldn’t make her the most interesting person in the world. It makes me so sad that Barbara Walters, a pioneer for women reporters has fallen in line with the celebrity worship that she no longer sees the fascinating people among us, the peacekeepers & the leaders & the thinkers.

I guess it makes me sad that we live in a world where our media focuses on keeping up with Kardashians, their own political bias or forgetting that news doesn’t stop just because it stopped trending on Twitter. We’ve stopped informing people & making them think. We’ve allowed ourselves to blame the media for our skewed way of thinking, because we aren’t. We just mindlessly listen to a network who feeds us whatever & a differing opinion is just bias. That’s why John Oliver & Jon Stewart are most people’s go-to for news. But they’re comedians, not reporters.

Before you read anything, even my drivel, open your mind & be willing to think. Then think. Then question. Then read a contradicting opinion. Then think again. Ask more questions. Expect the media to work for you & get the answers you need to know. If you’re satisfied with the answers, then you need to think harder. Because we work for you, to inform you, to make you think, not the other way around.

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Into the Nothing

I write about my life with pretty candid honesty.

I have a lot of people tell me that they relate to me. I’m not sure why people seem to relate to me. I think I’m an idiot. That’s not true; I think I’m brilliant. I’m strong. I’m beautiful. I’m determined & talented & sometimes funny. I’m witty & charming & I have a great gift in that I can show compassion to literally anyone, even those who have hurt me. But I’ve always talked about my life, my experiences & felt better about who I am.

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This time…I’ve said pretty much nothing. I’ve written stuff that I’ve deleted. I’ve written cathartic things for me. But I haven’t really said anything about my life to anyone. Not even Erica & she’s my person. She knows everything. But here we are.

I guess it’s because I’ve felt…nothing. I’m not shattered. I go to work. I go home. I go to the gym. I go home. I do yoga. I raise my family. I sleep. Repeat. I live my raddest life as I did before. I continue to get whatever I want in my professional life. I continue to succeed in my fitness goals & kick crossfit’s ass. Life did not stop. No, it kept going & I kept going & I did a damn good job. But I had nothing to say. Mainly because there’s nothing to say.

Actually, there’s lots to say. There’s the guilt I feel. I did a lousy thing to a very good person. Erica will comment underneath with an opposite stance, but that’s how I feel. I was a hypocrite. I did the thing that hurt me the most to a person I care most about in this world because I was mad. Then I was hurting because we don’t talk. Duh, we don’t talk because of ME. It’s not their job to talk to me, it’s my job to ask forgiveness! I miss a person I love very much. I didn’t count on missing them this much. I rationalized how long they weren’t in my life & I could do it again, no big! I was wrong. I just want to talk to them, hold them, be near them. When the general awesomeness that is my life happens & something amazing happens & I’m proud, I go to text them because I want them to be proud of me too. But, I can’t. Sometimes I just want to hear their voice…& I can’t. And that hollows me out even more. I keep feeling like this ending is the wrong one. Like, no world could be so cruel as to put something so wonderful back into my life just to have it snatched away & gone forever again. No human heart, even one of steel like mine can handle that blow. This didn’t have to be this way. Maybe one conversation could have turned it around, one I didn’t have because I was livid. But worst of all, I feel like I hurt someone who I abhor the thought of hurting. But I also don’t want to give anyone I know the satisfaction of knowing I am hurting. I am invincible, remember? No one hurts me! I’m an impenetrable force, which means nothing bothers me ever. I’m also not one to whine about things I cannot control. They ran, I acted like a stupid bitch & cut them out. This didn’t likely show them that they do need me. It just hurt…me.

There’s the damage in doing to my own psyche in the name of self preservation. Anyone who knows me knows that the silent treatment is (for me) the worst form of torture. Even if I elected the silence, it makes me sick. I’d rather have my fingers broken. Erica said that obviously my position was something I felt so strongly about that I was willing to put myself through my own personal form of Hell to prove it. But all I proved is what everyone told me for a year; I had become a different girl.

I thought if I kept people away from me, and pushed them away when they hurt me, I wouldn’t get hurt anymore. I thought if I moved far away from everyone, I’d be alone & no one could hurt me anymore. I had built up these huge walls so no one could hurt me anymore because I didn’t want anyone to be able to hurt me anymore. I had become so afraid of getting hurt that I was orchestrating my own hurt. I shut out anything that might hurt me because I was afraid. I didn’t want my beautiful heart to be hurt anymore by anyone. It had endured enough & I wouldn’t allow it. I wanted to be alone, so no one could ever damage me again. But I had lost the ability to work through things with compassion. I had lost my patience, my understanding. Literally everything I loved about myself was gone. Now I’ve lost the one thing I couldn’t bear to lose & the guilt & the feelings of cowardice bother me. I refuse to let them interfere with my beautiful life, so I do what I do best every day: thrive. I succeed. I put on my happiest face & I am fine.

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But, there’s also the tarnish on the shiny coin of my life; it doesn’t matter. I can’t shake that I don’t matter. I am not valuable. These words do not matter. They’re just words on a screen, of no value of importance to anyone, not even me. The feeling that you do not matter, nor are you missed by someone you miss tremendously should be skull crushing. But in the end, it feels like nothing. So, I didn’t write, because it felt like nothing, because I generally don’t feel particularly strongly enough about anything to write about. But I promised one of my dearest friends I would try, for if I had my heart’s greatest joy back, maybe I’d feel like myself again.

But in reality, I just want a phone call that can’t come through from a person who probably doesn’t miss me in the least & has never been known for bravery that I hid from because I’m a coward. And the fact that I brought all of this on myself so that I will never have that is the cruellest nothing of all.

You’re probably thinking “MHC, you are a boss ass bitch! If this is bothering you THIS much, stop being a huge effing baby & pick up the damn phone & call & talk & figure your shit out! What about trust your instincts, be brave, follow your heart?! Stop being such a God damn emo baby & take that step.” I know because that’s what I tell myself. It’s what I always tell everyone. But, I don’t know how to get past the fear; of rejection, of having my heart torn apart in a manner most cruel, or worse, the silence of getting voicemail, hearing a voice & knowing you won’t hear it again. I used to be very brave, then someone who’s opinion I valued said some very terrible things to me, claiming they laughed at me & I was a joke to them. This crushed my spirit in ways no one could ever understand. So, the very thought of putting myself out there made me panic. It terrifies me & I don’t think I’ll ever be able to adequately explain it. I want to call, but I’m afraid they won’t answer. I want to send an email, but I’m afraid of getting a cruel reply or worse, no reply. I want to unblock them on FB, but I’m afraid they’ll shut me out. I hold my phone & legitimately panic like I saw an army of geese because I’m so scared they won’t answer. So, I sit in the silence. I can’t let the walls down, because I might get hurt. I want to get past it. I don’t know how to get past it. I’d love for someone to tell me.

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The other one I hear is “MHC how many chances can you give someone to hurt you?” (This voice has a Texan accent) My answer; as many as they need. For I know how good they really are & what it’s like to be them. So, I want to be good to them & (irony alert) show them they have nothing to be afraid of if they would just let me into their life. Because that is the very core of who I am & I need to love myself above all else. So, I love that part of me & I never want to lose it. This goes for everyone; if you were once my friend & you need one, then I will be here for you. It doesn’t matter what you did. I’ll be there. I wouldn’t want to be any other kind of person.

So, there’s nothing. Just living. Succeeding. Being a good mom. But nothing all the same. But I do know I need to start facing my fears & letting people in, before I do more damage to my beautiful life. I’m just not sure how.

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Bad Blood

My teenage daughter is exactly like me.

Seriously.

She looks just like me, has my mannerisms, speech patterns, & even stands with her toe pointed like I do. She’s also really nice & it gets her into trouble.

She ran afoul of two teen girls who were torturing her friend, to the point where we had to call her parents because she had written a suicide note. My daughter went to teachers, parents, and even took these girls to task on her own. We may be nice, but we take no shit. Attack someone we care about & we go full Pitbull. These girls were already outraged because the object of their affection (whom is a pint sized predator) is smitten with my child. So, the cyber bullying began. We’d block them on her social media, they’d open a new account & begin again. We tightened the settings, they’d use a friend’s. I brought screencaps to school & told the parents. One mom took action, the other accused my child & I of being jealous of them. Uh. Okay.

Anywho, my daughter’s tale is just one of a million stories of bullying. They’re on the news all of the time. You see all of the adults commenting that it’s such a shame, those poor babies, where do they learn this…only to click to the next article to read them mocking a celebrity, calling her fat, ugly. The most disgusting thing I have ever seen was the comments on a beautiful article about Dan Diaz, the widower of late assisted suicide/death with dignity activist Brittany Maynard. This man lost his wife & we’re mocking him, claiming he hoped she’d take her own life so he could have a healthy wife, that he’s milking it (his wife has been dead for four days), etc. We’ve become a society so deplorable that we are mocking a man who will bury his beloved wife.

So, where do these little pukes learn this disgusting behaviour?

FROM YOU.

Yes, you. They learn it from you. Every time you take a shot on Miley Cyrus or Taylor Swift, or any other celebrity (this includes the time I called John Mayer the president of Doucheland), you are teaching your kids to bully & devalue human life. When you justify it by saying its a comment board & you don’t have to be nice, you are teaching children to defend bullying because the victim wore the wrong clothes or whatever. When you mock a woman’s appearance or cat call a woman, you’re teaching your child to objectify women. When you mock a man who’s mourning his wife, you’re teaching your child to devalue love, a marriage & that this man’s suffering means nothing. When Robin Williams passed in August, people tortured his daughter Zelda so relentlessly she had to leave social media. During a time when a human being needed the most love, we as a society ripped her heart out. Then we wonder why the next generation is a bunch of evil little shits. Because they learn it from you.

For years, I’ve been accused of being too nice. I’m always explaining myself & that’s okay. But the truth is that there are billions of hateful people in this world. They’re mean, heartless & cruel. There are billions of selfish bigots in this world. I do not wish to be one of them. I take flack for wanting to be the woman I want my daughters to be, because apparently that’s odd. But I am raising three beautiful & brilliant women. I want them to be strong & brave but also radiate compassion & Grace. So, I must do the same. I refuse to become the person who can’t find one thing in the world that makes the day amazing, even if it’s just that I saw a bunny & it was cute. I like who I am & I want to be the girl who is nice & gives as much as I can to others. I like being that woman because I need to teach my daughters how to spread love. I won’t take people’s cruelty lying down, but I will not spread misery & I hope this teaches my daughters the desire to spread love. I know other moms who feel the same way & I hope we can raise a generation of kids who are loving & not cruel.

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So, next time you sit behind a user name & take a shot on a random stranger, think about how you’d feel if it was your kid & a classmate. Think about if it was a classmate saying that to your kid. Think about if Miley Cyrus was saying that to you. After all, you’re a stranger to her as she is to you. Say she walked up to you & mocked your hair & your dog & your clothes & said she hoped you died of a drug overdose. Sounds ridiculous, right? Well, that’s what you sound like when you hide behind your user name & blast them…& you’re teaching the next generation that it’s okay.

Wonderland

I’m a weird people watcher.

I work retail & in media so I spend a lot of time observing people, sometimes so much so that I seem in my own little world. The conclusion that I reach most often is that people are stupid. But other times some of the stuff they say & do (that is probably stupid) makes me question the world around me & where our priorities are.

Today, two University students (I figured this out thanks to their Western sweaters & constant references to attending university. I’m guessing they’re freshmen) were complaining about their friend & how she was “totally wasting her time on that guy.” They stated that the couple was not listed as “in a relationship” on FB & there’s only one photo of them together on her phone, and she only mentions him sometimes, etc. This clearly meant it wasn’t going to work. After rolling my eyes back into my head so far that I saw my own brain, it made me wonder just how dependent we are on social media for instant validation & gratification.

I have a lot of social media. You can find me on Facebook, Twitter, Tumblr & Instagram. I post a lot of pics of my kids, inspirational quotes that make me happy, selfies, and song lyrics. Also, if you follow me on Tumblr you’ll find out I have a huge crush on WWE superstar Seth Rollins. Also, I’m kind of awkward & weird. Riveting stuff. But you’ll find very little about my “real life”, except for that time I inadvertently posted my home address on the internet. My friendships & relationships aren’t any less important to me because I don’t openly discuss it or post every detail about it on social media. I have only had a relationship status on FB once. I don’t have a relationship status & I have no real plans to ever change that. My best friend the Psych Major doesn’t even have a Facebook account. Does that mean that she doesn’t exist? (then I remember her obsession with Pinterest, so yes, yes she does)

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I post a lot of photos of me & my children because my family lives far away & I know they’d want to see the girls. Also, I’m a proud mom. But I always think the best nights ever & the best friendships/relationships are the ones not all over social media. If you’re enjoying the company, the activity, etc. You’re likely not on social media. I always feel like those who go all gooey on social media are overcompensating for a lack of happiness or comfort in the relationship. This obviously doesn’t apply to everyone, as my good friend Nancy from Whispered Inspirations will randomly get all gooey about her husband & I often joke that they were only put on Earth to make other couples jealous. But I always wonder why we need to publicly announce we’re with someone, we’re in love, we’re so cute, etc. Are we trying to convince our FB friends or ourselves?

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This is just another part of the evolution of old MHC to new MHC. Why? Because Old MHC was social media girl, who shared way too much about her life. New MHC realized I was posting my entire life on social media to prove I was enjoying it more than I was. The only parts that I wasn’t documenting were my relationship with my significant other (aside from my 900 photos of our respective children) & spending time with the Psych Major & her son. Oddly enough, those were the parts where I was most comfortable & myself. Once I stopped trying to prove I was happy on social media, I started actually being happy. I was enjoying friends & family & events. There are still photos on social media, but those are generally concerts, big events, or random weirdness, not “every time we hang out look I love my friends while I status that I love my friends omg life is so rad”. Instead, I’m actually interacting with the people who took the time to interact with me.

The old MHC wanted some kind of public validation from the men I was with because that meant I was in a secure relationship. New MHC doesn’t need that because I know if I ever did feel insecure, I can tell my beau & he’ll alleviate my concern because he cares about me & wants me to be as happy as I try to make him. Old MHC thought that this type of validation meant that the man I was with was proud of me. New MHC realized that when a man is proud of his lady he spends time with her, makes an effort for her & his actions match his words. That matters most. Old MHC would have done the FB creep to figure out if the man I am currently with seemed more invested in other girlfriends to assess if that meant he did or didn’t care about me. New MHC doesn’t give an eff. He’s with me now & that’s the most important thing. What he did for me in the past or for another girl matters not; what matters is how he treats me in the present tense. New MHC also adopted a format that I’ve applied to every important aspect of my life; what is mine is MINE. It is not yours to dissect online. It is not yours to judge. It is mine & I intend to keep it mine. But this doesn’t just apply to my love life. This applies to everything in my life. I do not talk about my job, my career plans (well, I talk about my writing, but that’s because it’s my true love). I do not talk about my home. I do not talk about my relationships with my friends. I do not talk about relationships with my mother, my siblings, etc. I mostly discuss random observations & kid cuteness…and my cat. Sorry it’s not so awesome.

The other major reason that I do not talk about my life in an open setting is because those who mean most to me read my blog & follow me on social media & I do not want them to learn about my feelings through my blog or social media accounts. I want them to learn about my life through me. Back in the day, people did this thing called “communicate” & as I never shut up, I’m a huge fan! I think about my own parents & their marriage & affection was personal & private & that’s what I think we should aspire for. Adversely, there are people I have evicted from my life who still read my blog (*waves*) & I do not want them infiltrating my beautiful life with their toxicity & I find them having any access to even the tiniest details of my life to be bothersome. So, I keep the things that matter most to me to myself…and about three other people. I even find publishing this awkward & had the Texan proofread it before I published it because I was worried it was too personal for my liking.

So, I laughed at these two girls because they’re mocking their friend but she’s probably really happy. She’s with someone & she’s comfortable & secure & doesn’t see any reason to advertise it to the masses. She is enjoying her relationship, not documenting it. Maybe I need to take a lesson from this faceless girl & apply this to the rest of my life & post fewer photos of my kids, my cat & selfies. But I know if I stopped with the former, my kids’ grandma would beat me up. But maybe we all need to enjoy our lives more & not publicize them. Keep our personal lives personal. Talk to people @ dinner instead of photographing our food. Your dinner wasn’t any less delicious because no one saw it. Use your phone to make phone calls & take a moment to hear their voice. Enjoy nature without a filter. Live.

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No Way No

When the Jian Ghomeshi situation started, I initially defended his right to privacy (which I’ve since changed my stance & apologized). Now, I say we should be opening the conversation to discussions of consent, trust, the differences between kink & abuse, but amidst the circus & the finger pointing & the gossip, it’s not happening. I’m not one to pussyfoot around conversation & I like to back up what I say, so let’s have this chat, shall we?

Continue reading “No Way No”

How You Get the Girl

Let me fill you in on some random facts about your favourite blogger MHC.

I talk way too much. Like, I never shut up pretty much EVER. I probably talk in my sleep. I talk to my cat Peachy like she’s people. I overthink to the nth degree. I fear intimacy & commitment. I over analyze so I’m always 19 steps ahead for no reason & when I figure it out I need to breathe in a bag. I have an irrational fear of abandonment. Then there’s my Fangirl like love for Taylor Swift. It’s really huge. I’m in my 30’s.

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I have a fiery temper & strong opinions & I’m stubborn af & I will not back down when I think I’m right. I get way too defensive when I think people question my way of doing things & I’d rather cough up blood than see a doctor. Oh, and I use 80’s slang for fun. I watch terrible movies. I laugh when skateboarders fall down, I hang up on people to play Legend of Zelda & I have a ridiculously childish celebrity crush on Seth Rollins. I tweet too much. I spend too much time on social media. I take too many selfies. I sing along with mall music & dance in aisles & hug inanimate objects at the mall & I wear a Pikachu hoodie & I’m a grown woman. When it comes to my writing I’m a perfectionist. And I’m a total bitch first thing in the morning.

All of these things used to bother me. I was obsessed with trying to be perfect so that people would like me. I tried to bury them down so far that no one would see them. Then one day…I stopped. I owned all of that. I have flaws. Lots of em! I’m an over emotional, hyper focused goofy ball of energy who talks too much. Way too much. And you know what, that’s totes cool.

However, for those who know me best, there’s also the rest of the list. I’m strong & I’m brave. I give infinite chances to those who deserve them. I like to think myself a kind hearted soul who loves to be nice just because I can & my greatest joy is making those I love happy. I fancy myself pretty smart, and I often joke that I am the best in the world at what I do (a line I borrowed from a great and wise multi hyphenate…Chris Jericho). I’m quite pretty in the right light, I take great pride in my work, my family & my ability to be the role model my daughters deserve so they don’t need TV to find one. I love my career so much that I take pride in the tiniest things. I still have an innocent view of the world, of love, that people are essentially good & often I’m right. I’m determined; there’s not much that I don’t get if I want it badly enough. Some people have told me I have a lovely singing voice. I lost 85lbs on my own without a fad diet. I kick crossfit’s ass. I’m pretty much the raddest chick that I know. In order to be the woman I’m most proud of, I needed to accept that there are parts that suck. And that’s okay.

In order to appreciate all of the amazing things that I am capable of being, I needed to accept that I’m not perfect and the list of flaws help me define my strengths. You cannot be strong until you’ve been weak. You cannot be proud of who you are if you can’t look at yourself honestly & accept every facet of who you are. So, I do & I’m proud of all of it, even the talking to my cat. She gets me.

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I’ll always be the girl who shuts herself away when she’s stressed about stuff that isn’t even real & writes paragraphs until she’s over it. I’ll always be the girl who talks too much & struggles to let people get close to her & will wonder if the people in my life are gonna bail (except Erica. She stays forever. She’s my Murican soulmate. <3). But that’s okay because those are small things & the amazing things I do outweigh the quirks I have & I aspire each day to work on those flaws so that they remain the most minuscule part of my life & people only see how bad ass I am. While I accept them, I also handle them in my own way so that they don’t take over my life. I can’t bury them anymore, because I want those in my life to love me for me; good & irksome. So, I accept them as I would the flaws of others & assume that those in my life will accept them too. Because there is nothing in life that will ever be 100% positive. There’s always something crappy. But if you just own the negative & focus on the positive, you can be really happy just being yourself.

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Out of the Woods

I love Taylor Swift.

I know, grown women in their 30’s likely shouldn’t admit this, but I do. She’s beautiful & talented with wisdom beyond her years. Her album Red is one of the best written albums I’ve ever heard & if you listened to All too Well & didn’t cry the first time, then you have no soul.

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Taylor Swift writes about her life, which is likely why her music resonates. She writes about her joy, her pain, her adventures. Of course, people choose to dissect her lyrics to find the call out to her former loves (Red was widely speculated to be about Jake Gylenhaal), often to hilarious results (like the speculation that I Knew You Were Trouble was about One Directioner Harry Styles, despite their relationship beginning AFTER the single was released). Recent interviews with Swift show her continuing disenchantment with the world; she hasn’t dated in two years so she won’t be a punchline. She has security with her at all times & you must surrender your phone to enter her apartment building. This young lady has become jaded & I don’t blame her.

One thing Swift has stressed when promoting her latest effort 1989 (which hits stores 10/27) is that she’s sick of being labelled as the girl who writes diss tracks about her exes. Swift writes about her life. Sometimes she sees things a certain way. Swift was also quick to point out that famous men like Ed Sheeran and Bruno Mars are universally praised for penning songs about their exes. Sheeran’s album + was written about a young woman he dated before fame, whom he writes about again on his latest effort x. But it’s his song Don’t, which he verbally assaults a former lover who cheated on him (later confirmed to be Ellie Goulding) that generated praise for his honest songwriting & fans took to social media to put Goulding on blast. Meanwhile, the same fans & reporters attack Swift for “calling out her exes” & her immaturity, often defending the alleged exes & claiming Swift deserves mistreatment from men because she writes songs about them. Swift took Entertainment Tonight to task for this & she wanted the music to speak for itself. So, when she released the track list for 1989, naturally they responded with excitement about the album, right?

Oh.
Oh.

I guess I understand Taylor Swift because I’m a writer. I write about my life. I write about my attempts to navigate through life without screwing it up, which happens almost never. If you are part of my life, I have probably written about you. The greatest compliment I’ve ever received was when someone told me reading what I wrote inspired them to be a better person (ironically enough, it was the person who once said the cruelest thing anyone has ever said to me). Although I don’t believe I have that power, it was nice to think that my endless drivel meant something to someone. But yes, I write about the people in my life. Sometimes it’s good, sometimes I’m not so nice. But, I write about my life, how I see events, the world around me. I try to keep it cute, but I wouldn’t be a very authentic blogger if I didn’t write about my life honestly.

However, I think it’s to a lesser degree than people think. A couple of years ago, I wasn’t happy. So, I wrote about my jaded feelings towards a belief system I no longer had (which I’ve reclaimed, albeit a bit smarter). I wrote about losing my faith in love (which I reclaimed by loving myself) & my ability to trust & songs on the radio & whatever caught my fancy…because it made ME feel better. But everyone thought it was about them; friends, family, former loves, everyone. But the truth is, none of you crossed my mind. I’m sure Taylor Swift isn’t thinking “that’ll teach him,” when she’s penning a song. She’s probably thinking “This makes me feel happy.” I know it’s weird, but not everything is a calculated dig. Writing is my therapy; it doesn’t always make sense. Sometimes I just need to put words out because when I’m doing it, I’m very at peace with myself. The same seems true for Taylor Swift. But for some reason, she’s painted as terrible & fans take up for Harry Styles & his innocence (meanwhile, Ellie Goulding remains on blast).

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The most beautiful art comes from real life. The character of Daisy Buchanan was inspired by F Scott Fitzgerald’s wife Zelda. Most of Edgar Allen Poe’s work was brought about from his feelings after the deaths of his parents, foster father & wife at various points in his life. The greatest songs were written about a concept or person that the writer was passionate about. Life inspires great works because it’s authentic & real & people understand it.

It’s funny, for all people do to dissect & discredit Taylor Swift, there’s at least one song we all relate to (my current one is Come Back…Be Here) & listen to when we’re feeling down, or romantic, etc. That’s because the emotions Taylor sings about are real. So, let’s stop wondering who she wrote about & listen to what she’s singing & enjoy her music. After all, music was written to be enjoyed, not analyzed.

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Headphones

While I generally do not care to discuss my relationship with my boyfriend (as I like having that part of my life fairly private), since he pretty much suggested this entire post (complete with the title), I kind of have to.

He’s an interesting & captivating man, compassionate & smart & sweet & pretty much every good adjective you can think of. He supports my crazy desire to become the world’s greatest reporter/cell phone princess & reads literally every word I write. But, in addition to all of these amazing things, he entertains my needs to ask questions.

I’m an inquisitive sort; I need to know everything about the world around me. So, I ask a million questions; about the world, my family, etc. I ask him a million questions every day; how is your day, your life, your daughter, tell me about your job, etc. and he answers them all. I think it’s because he’s like me; he likes information. Whether it’s sports, politics, current events, world religion, he likes to know. I think that’s why we work; he’s the intellectual and I’m the journalist, the supplier of information. He loves to learn & I love to inform, we’re quite the pair. Also, he hasn’t complained about my inability to shut up ever, so either he’s mastered tuning me out or is a glutton for punishment.

However, he possesses dual citizenship & unlike most Canadians, he would actually prefer to be American. We have conversations about when Thanksgiving is supposed to be (pro-tip; he’s wrong) & I often end conversations with “YOU WERE BORN HERE.” So, we tend to differ on the “American” vs. “Canadian” way.

Today’s horrible shooting in Ottawa put a halt to our mock fights about national pride to listen & read about what was happening. This was a horrible thing & a young man lost his life for no good reason. He’ll never have another birthday or Christmas. His beloved dogs will never see their master again. His parents will never hear his voice on the phone & my heart breaks for them. No 24 year old should be taken from this world in such a terrible way & I hope that we as a nation will stand by the Cirillo family through this horrific time.

I wanted to know why this happened, what measures will be taken to protect our Prime Minister & Members of Parliament going forward, how did a man with a gun get into Parliament, is there a second shooter, etc. The RCMP was mum. The Canadian Press seemed mute except about the lockdown. Meanwhile, CBS already had the identity of the shooter & breaking news site heavy.com had a bunch of facts about him, before the Canadian Press knew what was up. I was so frustrated, because as a journalist (albeit a fluffy celeb journalist) I didn’t understand why no one was informing us & why we as Canadians seemed to be okay with that. I texted my beau a huge rant, which prompted my epiphany that perhaps his “American” thought process wasn’t so off base & he told me to write this because I’m a genius.

The truth is; we get the media we deserve.

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My American friends are not afraid to question everything they hear. My Facebook timeline is inundated with them questioning their government, their police, the FBI, Mark Zuckerberg, and the list goes on & on. They live in a “stranger danger” sort of world. When the Boston Marathon was horrifically bombed, we had real time updates from every reliable news agency in the world, as the American media kept people appraised. We knew who, why, who was at large in hours & people knew what was happening. Today, people in Canada sat questioning how this happens here & when I would ask why it happened, I was told I was nitpicking the coverage instead of the tragedy & shame on me.

Actual quote from cbc.ca's live blog. This MAY have been what started my rant
Actual quote from cbc.ca’s live blog. This MAY have been what started my rant

While Americans live in stranger danger, we in Canada do the opposite; we don’t care. We’re ostriches. Political scandals are overlooked (one of my colleagues once wrote an amazing piece for a magazine we all wrote for about Canada’s apathy to political corruption) because that doesn’t happen here (yes it does), we flip out whenever there’s a major crime because it doesn’t happen here (a prime example was when a meth lab blew up near my old house right before I moved & everyone freaked because that doesn’t happen here), and we’re so focused on being perfect utopia Canada that we miss that bad things happen here & we need to accept that so we can learn from it so it doesn’t happen anymore. People get murdered, there is crime, there is corruption & pretending it doesn’t happen won’t make it any less true. While my feelings towards Prime Minister Harper’s politics follow “I don’t agree with anything he says ever,” he was very realistic when he said we are not immune to terrorist attacks. We are not. Fortunately our Nation escaped this horrific day with only one tragic loss. But we need to be smart and arm ourselves with information, we need to ask questions so we won’t be shaking our heads wondering how this happened because it doesn’t happen in Canada. I love my Nation; I think it’s a beautiful place and I am so proud to be Canadian, but we are not a utopia and the biggest lesson we need to take from this tragedy is like Mr. Harper said, we are not immune to tragedy, so we need to stand in the face of these things and not hope it just goes away.

Perhaps we do need to borrow a page from our American brethren and accept that bad things happen and start asking questions. It is perfectly okay to question your government. It is okay to question law enforcement. It is okay to ask what is happening in the world around you, if you are safe, because when all is said and done, these people work for us to preserve our way of life and for the most part, they do a damned good job. But if we as Canadians are not asking, we won’t be informed and we’ll have to learn from our neighbours what’s happening in our own backyard. We cannot peer over the fence and ask America who is attacking us. We need to find out for ourselves.

So, ask questions. Seek knowledge. Make the media answer those questions. Hold them accountable and let’s make it a point to make sure we aren’t ostriches as the world goes to Hell around us, because it CAN happen here.

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