Monthly Archives: June 2010

Closing the Chapter on 30 Things (Part 1)

– Contributed by Wee C

I know tonight should be a celebration, but to be 100 per cent honest, I’m at a complete and utter loss. For the past 365 days I have been on an unexpected journey, heading to a destination I was never quite sure of, with pitstops in places that rarely appeared on my map of life. And tonight, I’ve arrived. But like any incredible trip, parting is always bitter sweet; the memory of an incredible adventure behind you, the return to normalcy in front of you. The trouble (and beauty) is, I’m not who I was when I left.

30 Things has defined me for the past year. It’s what I talked about over coffee with old friends. It’s what I’ve told new people about when I meet them. It’s where so much of my energy has been directed. It’s how I’ve overcome personal challenges, how I’ve learned to live life in greater balance, how I’ve learned to have fun. But, perhaps most of all, it’s how I’ve learned to like myself, to not feel disdain every time I open my mouth, to feel comfortable in my own skin…to be comfortably uncomfortable.

So tonight, as I finished the last item on my list (a “thing” I have yet to be bold enough to disclose) I smiled and laughed as I drove away, so fully satiated by how it all ended. And then I felt it. That familiar sensation that feels like someone is putting their hand down your throat and pulling all the air out. To no one’s surprise, I’m sure, I cried. I cried like you do when an old friend moves away and you so wish they wouldn’t.

Don’t let my current unrest fool you. I feel fulfilled…damn fulfilled… by how I’ve lived the past year. I feel jubilent that I finished my list, and did so with nothing less than a full-blown fireworks display. I’m just a bit wistful. And like any good traveller, am wondering where my next destination will be will be and how quickly I can get there. Stay tuned. I’m pretty sure my next departure is on the horizon.


An Appropriate Entry Into 30

-Contributed by Wee C

Well, here it is. 30 is no longer breathing down my neck like a husband who is tired of being at the mall. No, 30 has waltzed into the room, sat down and made itself at home as if has some sort of right to be here. The question of the week has been “what wild and crazy thing will you do to celebrate”? People! C’mon. Have we learned nothing if not that I’m about as far from wild and crazy as Lindsay Lohan is from pure and demure? Yes, I’ve given you all glimmers of hope over the past several months. But a carefee night at a wedding, a couple of school girl-like nights out with the girls, and a particularly uncharacteristic trip to the ever-dirty local strip club does not a wild girl make. But I do appreciate that you’ve continued to hold out hope for me. For the record, I gave up on my aptitude to be a legit party girl months ago. It takes discipline, commitment and enthusiasm that I just don’t have. Party girls of the world, you have my utmost respect. Holla at your girl, as they say. Insert bum giration and slapping of the behind here.

No, I welcomed my 30s as one would expect I should, in true Wee C style. Curled up on my sofa, snoozing away after a 13-hour work day. I woke up just as the clock struck 12, bleary-eyed, staggering, and desperate for bed. It’s almost poetic, really.

I’ll save my full-blown reflective, introspective, ever-so-insightful post about the past year for later this week, after all has been said and done (and you know I will…that’s prime opportunity to to impart life wisdom and insight on all of you, I most definitely could not miss out on that), but what I will tell you is that the next 24 hours holds my last two “30 Things” up its sleeve. Rest assured, not all hope should be lost. I would NEVER have even entertained these last two things this time last year. But let’s just say that they’re big enough “things” that telling you all what they are, well that would be #31 on my list. And let’s face it, that’s outside of the original scope of the project, so it will cost you more. Happy Birthday to me.

#24: Channeling William Hung?

– Contributed by Wee C

To no one’s surprise, I’m sure, I’ve never sang karaoke. Sing in my car? Yes. Sing in the shower. On occasion. Sing in front of a group of people in a bar who are all predisposed to ridicule, judgment and making gagging motions? No thank you. I already assume that people are judging me when I’m sitting in the back of the bar, minding my own business, hoping no one has noticed that my outfit isn’t quite perfect. A self-centered, sociopathic way of thinking, you say? Need I remind you that I have somehow come to believe that everyone has nothing better to do with their time than to focus on all of my multiple flaws?

Needless to say, karaoke ranked right up there with going to a strip club on the “saying yes to things I would normally say no to” meter. In fact, one of the girls who joined Big L and I (yes, this was a 30 thing for Big L, also) summed it up quite nicely. “Even if someone paid me $10,000 to get up there are sing on my own, I wouldn’t take it,” she said. I didn’t come home $10,000 richer the other night, but I did come home without a voice.

As I was toiling away trying to select the perfect song and preparing myself to get up on “stage”and do my own impression of William Hung, my name was called. Huh? But I haven’t put my name in the cue, yet. “Wee C? Is there a Wee C in the house?” I heard Laurie the Guy ask (that’s right, Haligonians, we were at the Lion’s Head). “Wee C get up here! I see you’re singing I Touch Myself!”

I TOUCH MYSELF???? I wouldn’t use those words together in everyday language, let alone in a song. Singing karaoke. In front of other people. I TOUCH MYSELF???? This is what I’m supposed to sing?

But, as I got up, not sure what to do, the four other girls I was with – Big L included – got up to join me. What better way to fully embrace karaoke than to do a completely ridiculous song with a group of fabulous and supportive women? Yeah, it was a shameless SATC 2 re-enactment. Only can you imagine if Samantha had been singing I Touch Myself instead of I Am Woman?

Our second act was equally classy – My Humps. Do you know how many times you sing the words “my humps” in that song? Simply tragic. And no, I did not pop my behind out towards the audience and slap my ass. Although that would have been a 30 thing all on its own.

At #24 of 30, what I’m learning is that we could all stand to channel William Hung a little more often. Letting go and acting silly is better medicine than Advil and a lot more fun than watching from the sidelines scared that someone will judge you. And here’s the secret that everyone needs to know: people cheer for you when you’re on the field. It’s living life on the sidelines that you really need to worry about.

My alter-ego.