Commitment a la Starbucks. Again.

I’m back at Starbucks for the first time since Sunday. Yes – I went four solid days without Starbuck’s coffee. I feel that I have successfully helped put a dent in capitalism, and the mass production of caffeinated beverages. I would love to shun Starbucks – I do see the ethical dilemma associated with this sort of establishment (fair trade coffee, my ass!) Fortunately for Starbucks I have zero willpower. You would think that after this long on the dieting trail, and after ten years of university I would have a better developed sense of willpower. I don’t. I only successfully accomplish things when closely monitored. Seriously, it’s worse than it sounds. I have to encourage myself to complete emails, fill out paperwork, read, etc. I don’t mean moderate encouragement; it is a huge challenge to focus my brain on things that I see no point in. Anything that I have no direct interest in is highly unlikely to be done. How I managed to complete three degrees is beyond me (I was extremely interested in only about 5% of the classes I took; I was moderately interested about 30%; the rest were just filler!). Oh but wait – I didn’t really complete three degrees. Lakehead is potentially allowing me to graduate with a BSc in April. That is downgraded from the HBSc that I was originally enrolled in. Yeah – my thesis. I figured it was safer to graduate with the BSc before Lakehead changed the degree requirements, and I ended up with nothing.

I think Starbucks is mocking me. Four days, and an assortment of coffee cup options, and I have gotten the same coffee cup that I had on Sunday. The one about commitment. It might be a sign. Or maybe it is meant to be irony. Or maybe it is testing my paranoia. Either way, I’m not amused. I could boycott Starbucks entirely – leave behind the pretentiousness of sitting in a coffeehouse, typing away on a computer…but then again, sitting in Starbucks, for as seemingly pretentious as it is, makes me feel as though I am accomplishing something. Plus it justifies me wearing a pashmina scarf (Thunder Bay and Pashmina don’t really go together!)

I have just applied to the University of London (I apparently have an addiction to this UK thing). Seriously, love to learn - what I choose to learn . I am sort of like my Australian Shepherd; we joke that he is stupid (cruel, I know). He is far from stupid though – he is a selective learner. If something isn’t in his best interest to learn, he won’t do it. It took 2 years to train shake-a-paw, but in less than 2 weeks he had learned how to open our back door and let himself out (on his own, unprompted, without encouragement). The program that I have applied to in London at least gives me flexibility (I will be able to take classes that I am interested in!).

So about this University of London issue. As I’ve mentioned I also have a spot on hold at the University of Liverpool for graduate studies. If London accepts me I will take a temporary reprieve from Liverpool in order to pursue the program at London. So – two UK universities – I am sort of surprised by the process of applying to English schools. In Canada, universities expect transcripts, proof of qualifications, etc (I know, because I have applied to enough universities in Canada and the US….). The UK has its own separate technique for university applications. London wanted me to send them my degrees – the ORIGINALS! Who in their right mind, is going to throw a $25,000 piece of paper in the international mail??? I don’t think so! Oh, and then throw in that additional gamble that the university won’t loose it (because universities NEVER, EVER loose paperwork!)

Facing an issue of trust, I went to Lakehead to see if I could get a registered copy of my degree. After being confronted by blank stares in the Admissions Office (I’m used to the typical Lakehead blank stare), I was informed that you can’t get copies of a degree. Basically you spend 4-5 years of your life, and $20,000-$30,000 for a single piece of low quality paper. I don’t really understand why you can’t be given a copy – it’s not like I am going to go out and claim that I have 4 HBAs in Anthropology, and 5 Bachelor of Education degrees. I’m not suddenly going to be Leanne D. HBA HBA HBA B.Ed B.Ed B.Ed.

So no. I am not sending the original copies of my degrees in the mail.

Lakehead was nice enough to allow me to photocopy my existing degrees, which they then stamped as being “official” copies. Thanks.

London also wanted me to write a letter explaining why I wanted to be allowed into the program. Basically a Statement of Intent. But wait. I couldn’t type it. No. I had to handwrite it!! This proved to be a challenge. No spellchecker. No Edit—Undo. No backspace. One mistake, and it was back to square one (White Out doesn’t look good on university applications).

I am not really sure the rationale for handwriting a letter. Maybe it proves that my first language really is English – it would look suspicious if I suddenly started writing in Arabic or Mandarin characters. Not typing also ensures that letters are not typed in Webdings - it is highy inconvienent when you go through an entire letter having accidently used the wrong font oops. I have lost most of my handwriting skills – I ended up printing the letter (in my lovely teacher printing, which is still fairly bad). Needless to say, London may assume that an articulate 6 year old wrote it. As a side note, I did teach a handwriting lesson in London, and I found one more skill that I definitely need to work on before ever attempting that again (F is a b*tch).

I’m sort of hoping that London doesn’t request my transcript (since I couldn’t produce the original copies of my degrees!) – I’m not exactly pleased with my disjointed academic history. It also have to fess up to those two deferrals – the dastardly things!

And then Liverpool. Liverpool was happy with receiving copies of everything! In fact, they were much more interested in my employment history than my academic history. My employment history is the one thing more disjointed than my academic history. The UK has this fascination with 3 year accountability (“document everything you have done over the course of the last three years, leave no gaps – if you must leave a gap, explain why” – they are less than amused when you explain a gap by writing “jail term” into the blank space).

So now it is back to waiting; I hate waiting. Unfortunately I sent my documents in the regular mail, so I will be waiting for awhile. If London decides they want my originals, I will personally hand deliver them next month…now, thanks to my short attention span, I am going to listen to the A.R. Rahman compilation, and satisfy my newly found craving for Punjabi Electronica…ya….

The Starbucks Commitment

Now that Christmas is over, and stock is fully depleted, Starbucks has reverted back to its “advice cups”. Now keep in mind, Starbuck’s has been in Christmas mode since October. I remember walking into my neighbourhood Starbucks prior to Halloween and being confronted by red holiday cups, and various Christmas desserts. Not that I am complaining about the Christmas goodies – I love sugar and fattening foods. Starbucks takes the cake on fattening foods. As I have mentioned, many UK retailers decided that beginning Christmas in October would combat the negative impacts of the Credit Crunch. Starbuck’s was no exception. When my Pimlico coffeehouse decked the halls in October, I was a little disgusted. Not that I dislike Christmas – I am just not a fan of overkill.

Ok – so the advice cups. Today’s advice is pertinent to my present life… “The irony of commitment is that it’s deeply liberating – in work, in play, in love. The act frees you from the tyranny of your internal critic, from the fear that likes to dress itself up and parade around as rational hesitation. To commit is to remove your head as the barrier to your life.”
Well that’s bull. Commitment has never liberated me.

First off, I am not opposed to receiving advice from my venti Café Americano. It’s deeper than a fortune cookie. I spend enough time and money here that I should be able to get something for free. Unfortunately topics of commitment are a bit of sore spot right now.

I think it has been fully established that I have commitment issues. I cringe at even having the word mentioned in my presence. I was ok with London, until I was presented with a contract that forced me to commit for 6 months – that was the straw that ultimately broke the camel’s back. Relationships? Would rather not do them. Long term job commitment? Not happy about it. Committing to a lease? No thanks.

There is still this part of me that refuses to grow up and realize that I can’t live according to my own plan forever. A friend suggested that I might not be cut out for a conventional job; there is a good possibility. The problem is that living according to my own plan doesn’t pay a lot of bills. Unfortunately I don’t know how to overcome this issue.

I committed to university; but it was an inadvertent commitment – I certainly didn’t think that I would spend 10 years pursuing higher education. Had I known, I likely wouldn’t have lasted. I committed to weight loss – but that was more a vanity thing, and again – I didn’t think this whole process would take so long. I am seeing someone – but it’s not a formal relationship – we see each other because we choose to (or at least that’s how I rationalize this non-committed-committed-non-relationship).

Maybe it is true – that “to commit is to remove your head as the barrier to your life.” My head is getting in the way of a lot of stuff. Yet I still see commitment as settling; it’s the moment that you become so exhausted with pursuing change, that you finally give in to sameness. Humans are inherently lazy. Commitment favours laziness. Laziness also favour monogamy, and if you want my views on monogamy, I urge you to read my Monogamy blog entry from June or July of 2008. Really, if you know me or have read my blog, my views on monogamy shouldn't shock you.

So really…all I am saying is that I hate my coffee cup today.

To Lay or Not To Lay in the Same Pile or a Different One

Oops…I fell off the face of the earth – or so it would seem. So…Happy New Year…hope you are enjoying yourself!
So what’s up in the world?? Economic devestation…conflicts…the occasional natural disaster…ya that pretty much sums it up. Apparently 2009 is going to resemble 2008 – seriously; if ever there were a moment to say “same sh*t, different pile”, this would be it...

Where am I? Sipping my Americano at Starbuck, listening to the three guys sitting next to me complain about women and divorces. Thinking about life. Same sh*t, different pile. Or maybe I haven’t even gotten to the different pile yet; I might still be working on the same pile. Lululemon and snow came to Thunder Bay over Christmas. I am tired of both; designer yoga pants and icy flakes aren’t really things that peak my interest. Even so, it doesn't matter where you go in Thunder Bay, you see both in ample quantities. And its when you start to ponder Lululemon and snow that you realize you are stagnating.

Over Christmas I reacquainted myself with complacency. I am so content in my little world of familiarity – it permits me to stagnate and maintain a noncommittal life. I enjoy defying expectations – mainly the expectations of others. Defying expectations is sometimes a good thing (like for the student who is expected to earn a C and defies odds to earn an A); for me, defying expectations means doing the exact opposite of what I have the potential to do. Where I have the potential to scale Everest, I decide to shock everyone and opt to climb Mount McKay (and then give up half way) – by the way, this is a metaphor, and I will likely never actually climb Everest - or Mount McKay. I don’t know where or why I developed this quality – it’s like I woke up one day and realized that I was tired of being predictable, or grew tired of having expectations placed on me. In Banbury a friend of mine said, “L*anne…I expect that you are going to stay in England for a long time.” I heard that…and it kept going over and over in my head. Expectation…oops…can't have that. That same friend predicted that I would stay in London indefinitely.....Somewhere along the way I found safety in failing.

I came back to Thunder Bay with the full intention of going back to London. Then something bizarre happened over Christmas – I lost my desire. I would actually rather stay in Thunder Bay than ever go back. It began to occur to me that I wasn’t sure if I could put myself back through England and the upheaval. Stagnating in my complacency.

A couple of nights ago I downloaded the pilot episode of “Being Erica”, a new television show on the CBC. The main character is 32 years old, educated, and full of potential. She can’t commit to a decent job, future, man, anything…has made a series of bad decisions that have ultimately sealed her fate as a “loser”, defying the expectations of those around her. I could barely watch it – and I’m sure I don’t have to explain why. But in case you aren’t up to speed; I see myself in that character. She is given the opportunity to go back and fix the mistakes she made; I won’t get to that. I did kind of like the idea of listing all of the mistakes she made though…I could do that…where to start….ok that’s a blog entry all unto itself…

So here is where I am (outside of the physical moment). I have been offered a job with a new agency. Yes, the “dream” agency….to go back to London in a little over a week. It comes with the opportunity for housing (less stress!!)…with a more guaranteed work scheme…a six month contract….a six month contract…sh*t…commitment…I don’t do commitment. Oh yes, its inevitable; I have to commit to something; there comes a point in a person’s life that they have to face adulthood and commit to creating a financially secure future. 30 is knocking on my backdoor, and I feel that I might be at the stage where I might actually have to commit to something. I don’t commit though – I’ve been seeing a man for some time now, I don’t know how long exactly, because neither of us commit but neither of us is trying to see someone else. I just don’t commit. To anything. Seeing a contract makes me shudder…having to sign one makes me heave.

There are other issues at play here – I have to go and I hate that. I would love to make this decision free of debt, and already living in a city ripe with jobs. But when there are no other options, and your financial life is suffocating you, it becomes necessary to take the opportunities that are presented to you. And I hate it. Feeling forced to return to London is shattering me. I would love the stress free experience, but it is just not going to be that way. I made my bed, now I must lay in it.

Then you start to go back to all of those decisions that ultimately led you to this moment in your life. And to the moment that you realized you were stagnating in your comfort. And then you suffocate a little more.

I have been told, six months is not that long. And it’s not. Until you face reality and anxiety replaces the old comfort. Each day can become a struggle, and every moment becomes a lifetime. Let’s face it – its not really six months, is it? I’m in debt…there are no jobs here…it’s not just six months. Live one day at a time. That is virtually impossible, when life is looming over you. So what am I saying then? Pretty much that I’m stuck in the same sh*t, different pile. Now if you don’t mind, I must go buy some sheets for my bed; if I have to lay in it, I want 400 thread count percale.

London Lost & Maybe Found

Life is funny at times – just when you think you know what you are doing, or where you are going, everything changes. I keep trying to remind myself that I need to return to Thunder Bay in order to move on. And yet for as excited as I was at the prospect of returning home, a little voice keeps reminding me that it is really a bad decision. But I have to go, don’t I? Finish the thesis. Apply to grad school. Figure out life and finish what I started. But the true necessity is that I finish what I started in the UK, and to do that I have to finish what I started at home. I have to come back and I will. Periodically I wonder how people can claim that their lives have been changed in a week, a month or even a year. But something has changed during this experience in London. That underlying feeling that I am ready to move on with my life has finally taken seed. Does that mean that it will go according to plan when I return to Canada? Knowing me – not likely. I worry that when I am confronted by my comfort zone and convenience I will start to take steps backwards. It can’t be so – if I start to stagnate or move backwards, someone is going to have to give me a swift kick in the *ss. Things have changed, and that is good. It’s time to embrace some sort of commitment. This time I will actually miss what I am leaving, whereas last time I was so truly relieved to get out. I don’t want to leave England and go back to my mundane existence (I feel like a 4 year old "I don't wanna go!" stomp stomp stomp). If only I could have seen this a week ago. Its time, isn’t it?