I Reach a New Level in Unemployment PLUS Bonus Story: My Mosquito Induced Heart Attack

When I used to leave somewhere late at night, I liked to count down the hours I would get to sleep before I had to get up and commute to my Real Life Job. On a regular night, I would calculate roughly 6 hours (or 5.5 if I was feeling optimistic that I would be on time - coughnevercough); so I would average about 6.5 hours of sleep a night which probably didn't help with the whole "horrible commute" and "unsatisfying job" aspects of my morning. 

Tonight, while leaving my friend's house at around midnight, I did the mental math and figured out that if I have a gym appointment at 10:00, then I will have to wake up at *gasp* 9:00. That's....that's only about... 8.5 hours of sleep. And I'm in a fit of despair. 

How can it possibly have shifted so fast?? In three weeks, sleeping a little too long is becoming too little! "Must sleep for 12 hours to be fully satisfied!" How did I function passably at a Real Life Job on half a tank?

I think what I'm actually dreading isn't that I don't have enough time to sleep; it's the fact that I have to set an alarm and make myself get up. I will miss out on a beautiful, natural wake up - a hair flowing, blue birds singing outside my window, I'm already wearing make up kind of wake up. Instead I will have the abrupt, halting wake up - the alarm clock wailing, bleary-eyed snooze button reaching, grouchy teenager  kind of wake up that no one wants.

This is what unemployment does to you folks! By next week I might be complaining that I had to get out of bed for 2 whole hours! Here's hoping my muscles don't atrophy before I am able to get a new job. 

Bonus Content!

Another nightly ritual of mine (other than disappointing myself with badly estimated sleep times) is a straightforward 6 point check. 

When living in the basement, one must always be vigilant about the horrific possibility that there may be a large, disgusting insect somewhere in the room. I simply cannot relax unless I have done a thorough sweep of my room upon entry:

1. Around the outside door frame

2. Around the window

3. Around the bed

4. Behind the laundry basket

5. The ceiling

6. The carpet

The ceiling is by far the trickiest, most harrowing spot to scan. This is rivalled only by the carpet, which might as well be camouflage print. Since 98% of ceilings are painted egg-shell white and most things that are hairy and beastly stick out rather easily on that surface, you'd think that this would be the easiest location to search. You would be wrong. You'd be wrong just like my father who thought lightly white-washed bead board was the way to go! Every knot in the wood paneling over my head is now a potential creepy- crawly. This becomes a 15 minute game of "Where's Waldo" except Waldo has a million legs, and I don't actually want to find him.  

So, when I went to my closet to get my pajamas, I was confident that I wouldn't have any scurrying surprises. I reached for my door handle and just as I pulled, a giant mosquito buzzed into my field of vision and I had a coronary.

Now I'll have to search (7.) EVERYWHERE. 

How Much is that Henry Cavill in the Window?

Well, what can I say? I may be a bad person.

Last night, I went and saw "Man of Steel" and thoroughly enjoyed myself. As a movie it was very entertaining. I enjoyed the story line, the action sequences, and the general look and feel of the whole movie; but if I'm being honest - I mainly enjoyed lusting after Henry Cavill.

For the past little while, it hasn't been normal for me to really bone-out on a film-star, or to be incredibly heated up by something on screen, but last night Superman had me salivating. #howJessiegothergrooveback

After my sister and I did a full run down of Mr. Cavill's amazing abs, chiselled jaw and perplexing pecks, my father started to get indignant about our objectification of Clark Kent. Why was it okay, he asked, for us to fall all over ourselves about this actor, when I was always so judgemental of men doing it to women in film?

Good question, Dad. Thanks for calling me on that.

I have thought a lot about this last night as I was lying awake until 2 am. I think I have come up with an answer that explains why, and also allows me to continue to Google the shit out of my favourite super hero - because he is not being marketed to me as a sex-symbol.

When you watch the ads of Man of Steel, there are a few seconds of shirtless glory - some gritty scenes of rippling muscles, but when I watch the trailers, I see this as a show of Superman's super-human abilities. I feel like this is presented to the audience as physical proof that he is the strongest man. I feel like what is on display is his strength and super-natural skills. Due to his amazing body, he is able to save lives and perform unbelievable feats.

But when I got home and started my fan-girl hunt for scintillating images of the star, I was disappointed by my lack of eye-candy. How is it that there are a limited number of shirtless pictures on the interweb! IMPOSSIBLE! It was the official website of the movie that brought me to the reasoning behind my irritation.

When I compared the official website to what I remembered of the Transformers trailers and website, I kept on recalling the incredible sexualization of Megan Fox (who, by the way, was supposed to be a teenager??). I think the difference is that we were shown her body as sexualized object, versus that strength and stamina that we are given in the form of Henry Cavill. I feel like I just happened to find a man insanely attractive instead of a trailer telling me "This is an attractive man - commence drooling". I feel like this is how women are portrayed "This a hot woman, look at her!" without any of the dualism of what benefits the hotness her body may give us - what's she going to do? Blow some Decepticon circuits with her bodacious bod? I don't think so.

Maybe this is because women aren't as vocal about what they want to see sexualized on screen? When Magic Mike came out, I was astonished by the reaction from women - it's was like they had never seen a naked torso before? I think the fact that the movie was presented as a sexual movie for women was what caused all the commotion. Same with 50 Shades of Grey. While those books are terribly written and have a crap plot line, they opened up a discourse of how women hide their sexual selves, and how it's possible to open that up.

I'm not saying that if we objectify men, it somehow makes it okay to keep doing it to women. That isn't how equality should work. I want to say that we should market women in a different light, with the added bonus of them being attractive.

In the end I have a screen saver of the sexiest part of Superman that Warner Brothers would provide me: his jaw.

Three Years Later and I'm the Same Person

Well, hello to you! It's been a while, but I'm back with a vengeance. 

Let me catch you up:

- 2010: Left The Grocery Store for the Book Store. Made great friends, loved my job, loved my life. Got fit, had fun. Tanned outside and was a bronze goddess. 

- 2010-2013: Worked at a very large and prosperous Software Company. Made great friends, didn't love my job. Got fat, had less fun. The chaise-lounge hasn't been opened in three years = pasty white.

- TODAY: FUNEMPLOYED! I just said adios to the Software Company less than a week ago, and I already feel better. While I am sad to see the people go, the job wasn't for me. How can I say this tactfully? It crushed my spirit. How do people exist in offices? I think florescent lights are designed to kill the creativity of the people under them. Like somehow the light slowly cooks the happiness from your braincells. But, I've emerged back into the world and so far the only thing I'm missing is my co-workers, and the CBC Radio 2 Personalities. Commuting makes the radio your best friend. Tom Power, I miss you!

I am feeling very stereotypical at the moment as I sit at a Starbucks with my (new) Macbook Pro. I am feeling pretty fraudulent; I have the clothes and the glasses and the computer and the coffee, but do I have the substance? I was feeling incredibly self conscious until I found my old Blogs and realized that I really enjoy spewing my thoughts into the world. 

I need to practice writing if I ever want to be good at it. I am really hoping to take a creative writing course so I can learn some actual skills on how to write a structured story. (Sidenote: I think someone has a Pumpkin Spice Latte. UNFAIR. It is July. Don't make me miss Fall already!)

I'm actually at The Book Store, which feels like Mecca to me at the moment. I have returned to the place I felt the most myself. When I worked here, I felt like I was with people who understood me, and celebrated the parts of myself that I want to celebrate. All I want to do is work here again, but I'm worried that I'm just trying to reclaim the past. Maybe I'm as delusional at Gatbsy in the recent Baz Lurhhman film - 

Nick: "You can't repeat the past"

Gatsby: "Sure you can!"

Okay, so that's not the quote but you get the gist. I don't want to repeat the past, but I would like to get back to being as happy as possible, and I think that this is a good place to start. I love surrounding myself in books. They remind me that there are people like me out there; people who create whole worlds, characters, and events in their heads and make believe that they are real. This is possibly unhealthy. 

This sort of wild imagination tends to get me into a lot of emotional trouble. I am constantly making up details about the personalities of the people around me, and then being disappointed when they aren't those things. I have an entire boyfriend scripted out in my head. I change his face depending on the people around me (default: Sidney Crosby). This cannot be healthy. How can anyone fit perfectly this character I have created in my head. Surely, no one can be that awesome. 

And now - the the gym! I have too much to think about already, and I want to free up the mind space that spends 50% of my day hating my body. 

-Jess-