Going door to door

Your comments brought me back to my blog, guys. Thank you all for that, I read them all and I love you beautiful people.

I haven’t written anything in a while and for that I am sorry.

Do I sound drunk? Probably. But I’m not. I had a really bizarre evening and I’m kind of feeling grateful for stuff. Kind of,

I went canvassing door to door for a local charity. We were just getting intel on the neighbourhood and whether people would be open to being contacted later for support/volunteering. We weren’t asking for money or anything.

Before you judge me, hear me out. I HATE people who knock on my door, interrupt my dinner, and try to shake some dollars out of me. Even worse are those who pretend they’re from the government/your water heating company and force their way into your home. Yes, it’s very big here in Ontario. Google “Ontario water heater scam.” The scam is that they tell you you’re eligible for a free upgrade, just sign these forms! You sign the forms, they bring in a new water heater, and now you’re locked into a new (and pricey) contract with some other water heater company. I am terrible to these people.

Luckily, I live in a complex and we don’t get a lot of door to door activity. I’m decent to the folks that aren’t trying to upgrade my water heater.

I was part of a mass e-mail sent out by college friends involved with the charity. They were inviting a group of us canvassing with them. Canvassing is when you go door to door and talk to people. I didn’t want to do it. I thought it would be brutal, having to deal with rejection all evening. I’m not in sales for a reason.

Let me tell you, I was just fine ignoring that email and going about my life as per usual. No. Some son of a bitch hit “reply all” and cheerfully told us he’s interested. Then another one. And another. Fuck you guys, you’re making me look bad. So I obliged.

I bought a sandwich after work and took the subway to meet everyone. I ate half of the sandwich on my way there. I tried to eat the other half discreetly while we were all walking to the charity’s office. I lingered behind everyone while they caught up on their lives. Someone made it their morality duty to embarrass me. He patted my back and practically shouted, “having a late lunch, Kat?” No, fuckhead. This is my dinner, considering you wanted to meet right after work.

The evening was actually decent. Only one person slammed a door in my face and told me to fuck off. It was OK. I got over it instantly. Fear of rejection begone!

There was a pantsless–I repeat, PANTSLESS man answering the door at another house. His balls were hanging out and everything. I tried to focus on his eyes and keep a straight face. Then I realized he was probably a troll and this was his way of getting us to fuck off.

There was a house with a sign just above the door, which read “If I don’t know your first name, fuck off and don’t knock”. It was something like that. We still knocked and I gave him my first name.

Eventually I realized we were in a really low income housing area. The people looked like regular people. It wasn’t the people that gave it away. It was the apartment itself. It looked dingy. It was a co-op. I realized the people I spent all evening talking to were possibly struggling with poverty, domestic abuse, mental health, and addiction. They were so nice to us, even though we were interrupting their dinners. It was lovely.

I have more to say about the last three weeks but I’ll save it.

Ta

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Commitment in your 20’s

Okay, so I spent some time creeping old friends and classmates on Facebook last night.

I feel like I need to address what everyone is thinking. Why the fuck is everyone having babies?

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Sorry, I need to be more specific. Why are my former classmates who barely graduated highschool, didn’t go to college, work minimum-wage jobs, and make-up/break-up with their boyfriends every other weeks having babies?! And how do they still find the time to hit up all of the clubs on the weekends?

I know this sounds super judgmental but hear me out. From where I’m sitting, you don’t have your shit together. In fact, I don’t think any of us do. Your twenties are a big hot mess. Everyone’s still figuring it out and having sex with all of their friends from college. It’s pretty incestuous. Then, one person gets their shit together which pressures everyone around them to get it together, too. Then we all walk around with briefcases, acting like adults until it feels natural.

So I creeped some old classmates and saw that four girls my age are mothers. Two of them already have two kids each. I don’t understand why people are having kids so young. I can’t even commit to a houseplant and these people are already committing to children and a life with their boyfriends. 

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One of them is pretty entertaining. She posts every little detail about her private life on Facebook. She’s all “Oh I hate drama! Don’t bring your drama to me!” meanwhile, she will air her dirty laundry on Facebook for all to see. She constantly harps on her on again, off again boyfriend/father of her children–“Where can I get a real man?” Cringeworthy.

I don’t know about you, but I’m definitely not ready for motherhood. 

Working in your 20’s

I started my new job on Monday and the week just flew by.

I’ll have you know I already know most of my coworkers’ names. This is a huge accomplishment, since I rarely remember people’s names–especially if I only met them a few times. Yes, I will remember every little detail you tell me, like a stalker, but I will not for the life of me remember your name.

Looking forward to waking up in the mornings, getting out of bed, getting dressed, and going to work is a huge game changer. I just feel like I have more energy to do things at work and after work. I’m also pretty excited by how new everything is–my office, the work, the commute, the people–everything. I feel like this is my chance to plant roots and show my value. 

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I keep track of my monthly income in an Excel file on my computer. I’ve been doing this since I graduated a few years ago. I started the log as motivation to work harder and of course, to track my spending. I dipped into my savings a few times to make rent, but I wanted to make sure I’d be able to get on my feet soon. So, I kept track.

I couldn’t find a good job for the first 11 months out of school. Seriously. I should probably admit that I didn’t put together the best resume, and (shocker) didn’t tailor the resume to the jobs I was applying to. I spammed so many companies with my generic resume looking for a job–ANY JOB. Obviously, I didn’t find anything substantial.

In the meantime, I decided to take advantage of my skill set and earn some money. All I really knew at that point was how to do well in university. So I made an ad on Kijiji and scoured the internet for clients. I did readings, put together notes, combed through research, and wrote essays. I worked with highschool, college, undergrad, and post-grad students. Some were here–in Toronto–and others were across the country. I stopped looking for full-time work and devoted myself to my students and their classes. They got A’s. I learned new things and improved my writing skills. 

Then I got a full-time job and tutored on the side. A handful of my regulars just wouldn’t let me get away. I was looking through my income log and realized I made over $20,000 in those 11 months after graduation. I couldn’t find work so I created my own work, and earned a modest income as a result. Awesome.

If you’re down on your luck or a recent grad entering an unwelcoming market, I urge you to sit down and make a list of your skills. What are you good at? Then, think of ways to market those skills to potential clients. I was good at researching and writing essays, so I marketed those skills to students. Take advantage of local ads and word-of-mouth to attract clients. It’s free.

Don’t shy away from a challenge–I once helped a Master’s student put together a thesis in a topic I had ZERO experience in. Those two weeks were fucking terrible. “Crunch time” is an understatement. I wanted to hide from him. I wanted to die. I ended up learning a lot from that experience and I made a tidy sum, too.

And don’t give up. I made $337 one month. It was my lowest point and I felt really shitty about it.

Eating Clean

I’ve been eating a lot of shit lately.

Not literally, obv, but you know what I mean.

Dim sum? Rice noodle, something something deep fried? Yes please. Brie-stuffed French toast with bananas, chocolate chips, and caramel sauce? Oh god, yes. Cardiac arrest-inducing rich ramen soup? I’m salivating at the thought.

Burgers from Five Guys and/or The Burger’s Priest? I won’t resist!

I just can’t control myself. I’m on the skinny side, so when I tell people about my lack of self control, they laugh at me. They laugh in my face. How rude. I’m offended.

I went to an all-day meeting today. Yeah, I have like two days left at work and they’re still sending me to things and letting me represent the company. Go figure. I had a donut for breakfast. A fucking donut. I’m obviously a shameless pig, stuffing that crap into my pie hole. It was a chocolate glazed donut from Timmie’s and it wasn’t even good. Disappoint.

Then, I decided to be good and have something healthy for lunch. So I popped into a little bistro and treated myself to a HEALTHY grilled chicken wrap and salad. I also drank a lot of water. See? Good.

Five o’clock rolls around and I decide to treat myself to some dark chocolate from Godiva. I ate healthy for lunch and was a numb corporate zombie all day. I deserve a reward.

I also had two slices of pizza for dinner. It wasn’t even good, I threw away the rest of the pizza (it was small). If I’m going to eat shit, it better be worth my while. Regrets were had.

I am going to reward myself tomorrow for living with my bad decisions and not throwing them up. No disrespect to anyone with an eating disorder. I can’t deny that the thought hasn’t crossed my mind, and I’m glad I’m resisting the temptation to “undo” a bad dining option. It’s difficult and it sucks.

Bah.