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.

What Happend to Privacy?

I am a fairly private person – which makes the whole notion of this blog somewhat ironic. But as previously mentioned this blog is about the mapping of my sanity (or something like that). It often amazes me how open some individuals are. I am currently at Starbucks (big surprise, ya ya), but not my usual Starbucks. How Thunder Bay ended up with two Starbucks is beyond me (not including the Safeway’s versions). In a population that is slowly declining, in an economy that is struggling, high-end coffee-shops don’t really seem to make much sense. Tim Horton’s, the blue collar equivalent, thrives here. And rightly so – coffee is far less expensive, and the treats along with being less expensive, are far more sugary. Yet for some reason, Starbucks apparently does well too. Maybe is makes us feel a little bit more metropolitan and connected to the international community. I don’t really know, and that’s not really what I am here to write about.

Anyway – this whole privacy thing. There is presently a couple sitting across from me, engaged in a discussion. Loudly. I am wearing a headset, listening to another overrated British musician (don’t get me wrong, I actually like the music). It’s not that they are talking loudly – that doesn’t bug me – it is the nature of their conversation that is bugging me. And since they are talking so loudly, I am going to talk about it on my blog, because they obviously aren’t overly concerned about their privacy. The woman is discussing her past “issues” – mainly mother issues. She apparently has learned a great deal about herself in the past year, and learned that her mother is controlling her. She has finally figured out what is wrong with her, and where her issues stem from (apparently from her mother). And she is improving on her issues, and so on…the man nods periodically in response, a look of profoundness on his face. His body language screams, “Yes, I understand your dilemma…I am caring…your tits look great in that top….blah…”

Yesterday, again at Starbucks (my usual location), I was lucky enough to over hear a conversation regarding divorce. I use the term “overhear” loosely. I didn’t have to “overhear” it – it was public. These types of conversations are routine – the ones in which people feel obliged to share their personal distress – and usually their distress is pretty much a mood-kill. You can’t just sit their in your previously jovial state – it just seems rude. If you are with friends, you become sort of obliged to look miserable. And then it gets awkward. So much for discussing last night’s drunken antics – there is misery at the next table.

Periodically I encounter people who want to talk to me. They see me typing on my laptop, see that I’m alone, and want to engage me in conversation. In London, nobody ever wanted to talk. Here there is no consideration for the fact that I don’t want to be engaged. The problem isn’t that they want to talk – I don’t mind general conversation. I mind the type of conversation that I am privy to – people who want to discuss their personal lives (really personal), or unload their problems on to me. I am more than willing to listen to the problems of my friends; strangers are another issue all together. And it’s a mood-kill. For an hour a day I come to Starbucks to escape my head, and try to breath. Having someone take me from that, removes me from my momentary relief.

I know this might be rude; maybe it is the influence of London talking; but seriously…not everyone wants to know…not everyone wants to hear…and while I can appreciate that we all have problems, and situations beyond our control…and situations that weight heavily on our minds, not everything is meant to be shared. If you want to discuss your personal problems in public, please, do it quietly…that’s all I’m asking – have some moderate consideration for the rest of unhappy society.

Procrastination

I actually dislike sitting in Starbucks to write my blog entries, and the other sundry of smaller things I end up doing. I could stay at home and do this without the obligation of paying for a caffeinated beverage. But there is something moderately liberating about feeling like I am actually doing something. I could spend the entirety of the day at home, unemployed, wallowing in my distress. Instead I am professionally dressed, interacting with society, with the full blown appearance of someone who is doing something…not someone who is wallowing in her unemployment. Plus I like coffee.

While here, I drink those “skinny” drinks that Starbucks has so dutifully endorsed. You know what I’m talking about - those beverages that are marketed specifically for the insecure individual, who is struggling with his/her weight and esteem. Truthfully these drinks probably don’t make a lick of difference, and are probably far worse than indulging in a full-calorie Coke. But the mind is fickle. We believe what makes us feel good. Today I have accompanied my Skinny Vanilla Latte with a Soy Banana Muffin (notice the capitalization?). Soy and banana must make it healthy! The pound of sugar on top…maybe not.

Maybe my life is fuller with Starbucks. For instance, the advice on the back of my coffee cup is deeply profound…utterly life changing: "The most important thing in life is to stop saying “I wish” and start saying “I will.” Consider nothing impossible and then treat possibilities as probabilities.”
Apparently these words were conjured up by David Copperfield. Why does a magician have a profound quote? Why not the Average Joe? Regardless, this was worth the trip to have my life changed by my coffee cup. And trust me, I presently have the time to ponder and implement that advice. Unfortunately “I will” takes money. Ahhh well…maybe the next coffee cup will be more feasible.

Alright, I’m running out of things to say about my unemployment, but really have nothing better to do that blog about something. Actually I am procrastinating a much larger independent project. I am not great with independent projects…because I procrastinate. While in university I procrastinated about any school-related work. During those periods, I could find tons of interesting things to do – I vacuumed, cleaned the toilet, emptied dresser drawers (cleaning was a vice), and blogged. There is a reason that my travel blog is titled “The Procrastinator’s Travel Haven”. When university ended, I started procrastinating about my procrastination blog. My inspiration for getting things done is about as useful as my body’s ability to metabolize food – my metabolism is lethargic and nearly nonexistent – so is my attention span for independent projects. But alas, it is time for me to shift gears, and start working on something a bit more productive. Until tomorrow…when I need to procrastinate again. Maybe my Travel Haven will eventually make it back in to my rounds of procrastination vices.