Brand is everything!

Back when I was a model, brand was everything. The clients were all about brand recognition, the agencies needed to build up their brands in the eyes of the clients, and the girls needed to brand themselves to land the right kind of jobs. Branding is important because it tells people what to expect from you. And the same thing applies to this blog – it needs a brand. That’s just how the internet works.

I’m still off work, and while I’m enjoying working on the book with Simon, right now the work on that includes a lot of waiting on my end. And with all this extra time on my hands I’ve been watching a lot of Netflix shows like “RuPaul’s Drag Race” about people making it big, and they’ve been inspiring me to think outside the box (something I think I used to be very good at). And I’ve realized that I would love to do something that I love every day that also builds up my brand. And the more I started to think about that, the more I kept coming back to fashion. I’ve lost touch with most of my connections who are off globe-hopping or settling down with families of their own, but I do miss the industry.

And that’s why I’ve decided to rebrand myself as new Mom, writer and fashionista – all in one! Starting in the New Year I’m going to start rolling out a new series of outfit ideas for new Moms on a budget! Frank and Oaks has a great new deal where they send you an outfit every month (with modifications if necessary) for between $30 and $150, and one of my favourite books of all time is 1000 Poses by Coco Roca, so I decided to combine the two. For each outfit, I will model a pose or two from the book and then record a one-minute video discussing pricing, where it’s available, how it feels, and so on. I’m excited about this new project because it combines my experience in the industry with my experience as a new Mom adjusting to her
body – in other words, the stuff that every new Mom has to deal with. I’ll probably never be a B24 or size 2 again, but I’m okay with that. I love my new ass and breasts!

I also have a new long-term goal in my life – I want to become a psychotherapist! (But first I need to finish paying off my student loan. I didn’t even know I still hadn’t paid it off until I triedto apply to school again earlier this year – groan.) Lots of plans for the New Year! I’ll keep you all posted!

Why Do Men Check Out Other Women?

I spend a lot of time wondering why men who are married, dating, or seeing a girl always feel the need to stare at other women. Some men are better than it than others, and I’ve dated both types – the guys who can’t stop ogling another beautiful woman even when I’m standing right next to them and the guys who are respectful enough to wait until I’m out of the room to look. But they all do it, even the sweetest guy who claims to live in the moment with you.

Now, don’t get me wrong – I check out both guys and girls. But I’m content with just noticing someone’s a hottie and moving on. I don’t keep staring until they leave my sight. And since I consider myself a pretty sexual person, it feels like if I’m able to control myself, then men should be able to do the same.

But the truth is, I don’t think they can help it. I think it has something to do with the drive to procreate. Men are programmed to want to spread their seed far and wide – a natural instinct that women just don’t have in the same way. And even though it bothers me when the man I’m with feels the need to look around at his “other options,” so to speak, I have to acknowledge that keeping that drive alive is what keeps the human race going. The world is over-populated and right now maybe we could use a few less babies, but trying to stop our men from wanting to make them could backfire – studies already show that male fertility has never been lower. If men lose their desire to procreate on top of whatever else they’re losing, eventually the world could see a full-blown population crisis.

So have at it, men. Check out other women. Just be respectful about it – and don’t forget to check out the girl you’re with at the same time.

Check Out My New Book!

In April of this year I quit my job to start working in earnest on Sleeping With The Material World, but it’s hard for a writer to stay focused on just one project at a time. In early May, an email appeared in my inbox advertising a $3,000 prize for a story aimed at underachieving readers. Not entirely convinced, I began whimsically writing about the trash-littered alley I remember behind my childhood home. I used to wander through that alley, wondering what kind of secrets might be hidden in the clutter. Fast forward a few months, and, after much writing, re-writing and editing, those scribbles turned into a 10,000-word story called Running The Point. I submitted Running The Point to the contest and – lo and behold – it won the prize!

Running The Point is about Ennie, a 12-year-old with NBA dreams. Ennie chances on a runaway girl after being embarrassed at basketball camp and their budding friendship soon leads Ennie into trouble. As his stern Aunt Lucia and a black coach named Steve-O try to turn his focus back to basketball, it becomes clear that helping a friend in need might also help Ennie overcome his biggest adversary on the court.

Running The Point makes a great Christmas gift for the kid in your life who loves sports but isn’t sure about reading. It’s available as both an ebook and a paperback on Amazon. I have also created a new personal website at www.simonbroder.com with sections on SWTMW, RTP and various other aspects of my writing career.

If you're interested you can learn more about Story Shares here.

Cheers,

Simon

Plane travel tips with a new born

I am coming to you from Vancouver Airport with some tips and advice on how to travel with a newborn by yourself or with someone else. I hope this helps you as you travel with your little one!

There were 4 things that I forgot to mention.

1) If your flying with Air Canada then don't buy a bassinet for the flight from them. I was told that a friend bought one twice and twice he did not receive it. When he asked for it as he got onto the flight they responded with they didn't have one. He didn't get his $250 back both times.

2) If your using bottles ask for a cup of hot water and then a cup of cold then you can put half and half into the bottle, check the temperature and give it to your baby faster.

3) If your baby won't eat on the way up or down then use a soother they work just as well.

4) I believe I covered everything, but there are tons of videos out there to help you on youtube or just google it as well!

Thanks so much for watching!

Old love new love

I'm checking in from Ojibway Park speaking about love and how I felt about it before and after my family. It was a very hot day so excuse my sticky appearance.

Dating diary about a "weak romance"

Several years ago I worked with a guy at a telemarketing place. In between my modelling gigs. That guy was funny and we would hang out sometimes, but he had been with the same girl for a long time so us hanging out never meant much of anything. One time I even had a get-together at my place and he came over and met my brother and his friends, which was cool. Eventually he moved on to a different job and then a few months later I ended up there as well, so we started to get pretty familiar with each other.

About three years after we had last worked together, we started messaging each other on Facebook about getting together to catch up. One Sunday night he invited me out for drinks, but it happened to be on the same day as my little sister’s baby shower. I wasn’t planning to go, but the shower ended a few hours earlier than I expected and I didn’t feel like just going home, so I decided to show up at the bar. I had seen him posting on Instagram that his girlfriend was on her way home from 9 months in Korea and they were getting ready to start a new life together, so I assumed he was in a serious relationship.

He was with 3 of his friends at a classy bar on Queen Street. Two of them were already wasted and had obviously been drinking for hours before I showed up, and the third friend kept going outside to smoke, which seemed a little sketchy and weird. My old friend told me that the relationship he’d been posting all over social media had already ended and that he didn’t want to talk about it. That was my first red flag. But on the whole the night went well. We had some really good conversations and seemed to connect well. It seemed like we had a ton of things in common. (Looking back, I think he was probably lying about some of it – guys will do that when they’re flirting.) He was a very sweet, open guy, and was really kind to everyone around him at the bar.

His friends left without tipping – second red flag. I tipped extra to cover for them and apologized profusely to the server. Then the two of us went to another bar where he seemed to know everyone. Again, he was so kind and pleasant to everyone, telling them he loved them and all sorts of wonderful things. I asked him how he was so close with the bartender.

“Oh, I did coke with him last night,” he shrugged.

Third red flag. After a few drinks he took me out in front of the bar and tried to kiss me.

“No,” I said. “We’re not there yet.”

“I’m so sorry,” he said, hanging his head. “I just meant…I didn’t mean anything.” He nearly fell over himself apologizing.

“It’s fine,” I said. “You’ll know when we are.”

We went back inside and had another drink and I decided I was having a really nice time.

“You’re going to sleep at my house tonight,” I told him.

After we left, he ended up taking me home rather than the other way around. At his house, things got very tender. We only kissed, but I slept in his bed and we had a great vibe. When I woke up in the morning I had to leave to walk my dogs, but I lingered for longer than I should have, The sexual energy passing between was hard to ignore and I could tell he was getting frustrated, but for whatever reason I held back.

“I love you!” he blurted out, and then realized what he’d just said. “Sorry. I don’t know why I would say that.”

“I can’t say anything like that back,” I said. “It’s way too soon.”

I left, but we had made a good connection. The next night he slept over at my house but again, it was mostly talk as we bonded with one another He let me listen to some music he had made which was dark and atmospheric but really terrific. He didn’t like showing it to anyone – he said it was too personal – and he even got anxious just letting me listen to it, but I appreciated it and told him so. I liked him, but I thought it was weird that he still smelled like alcohol. He’d worked till 1 AM at the restaurant he managed yet apparently he’d still found time to have a couple of drinks on the way over to my house. That was my fourth red flag. I told him I didn’t really drink and that I didn’t really want to get involved with someone who was heavy into the sauce. He shrugged it off and said it was nothing.

A few days later he called to let me know he’d made a reso for me at his restaurant, which was owned by a well-known chef in the city. I told him I hadn’t had a good day, but I was looking forward to hanging out with him so I would come. As we walked in, he held my hand, which made me feel awkward – almost as if we were onstage. But my previous boyfriend had been emotionally unavailable so I still took it as a good sign.

At the restaurant we were sandwiched between another top chef and some rich, boring people who seemed to be listening to our whole conversation. He started ordering me a bunch of things, and when I told him there were certain things I didn’t like, he simply made substitutions and went right on ordering. That was my fifth red flag. I don’t like it when guys order for girls – I can order for myself, thank you very much. While we were there a bunch of people kept coming by to say hello and explain the intricacies of each dish, breaking it down by ingredient. I could feel the eyes of everyone who worked there on me the whole time. I felt like his prize, someone he could show off for all his friends and coworkers. It all got to be too much for me – the production, the doting servers, the eyes. I tried to tune it out and focus on the food. We ate oysters, then tuna ceviche, then some salad that was disgusting, and finally some green curry chicken. I took one bite of the chicken and stopped him dead in mid-conversation.

“Where’s the washroom?” I said. “I’m gonna puke.”

Since I’m so thin and was a model for so many years, people have often asked me if I’m bulimic. I hate that question, and I hate puking even more, but in the bathroom of this fancy restaurant I projectile vomited out my whole dinner. I was embarrassed that it had happened – and even more embarrassed that it had happened in front of so many watching people.

When I got back to the table the food was gone and he was waiting for the bill. We walked back to his place and he asked if I had gotten sick because I was stressed. I was offended. I told him no, it was clearly something to do with the food. In retrospect, I don’t know what it was. When I looked it up later I realized that real food poisoning usually takes at least 4 hours to upset your stomach, but maybe one of the weird ingredients triggered an allergy or maybe I was already sick. Back at his place I ordered a pizza for us, but he refused to eat any. He told me he had once been 300 pounds and since he’d lost the weight he’d stopped eating late at night. I sat in his apartment and ate the pizza by myself, and he went to bed.

We went on one more date after that. Someone offered him free tickets to the David Bowie exhibit at the AGO, and then after we saw that we went to Ai Weiwei‘s “According to What” exhibit. I really enjoyed going with him – he really seemed interested in what the exhibit had to say about art and life, and I was impressed by the worldliness of it. He kept telling me how much he enjoyed my company and how much he liked me. (Maybe I shouldn’t have seen this as another red flag, but I’ve had a lot of bad experiences and I never really trust when guys are touchy-feely like that.) As we parted ways after the exhibit, he invited me to a Nine Inch Nails concert the following week.

We hadn’t slept together yet, but things were going really well and I was ready to take things up a notch. A couple of days later I had to work late so I turned off my phone but I told him that I was ready to tell the other guys that were chasing me that I was interested in him.

Kisssssssses, he texted back – another red flag. Who doesn’t have something substantial to say to that?

When I turned my phone back on after I finished work at 11 PM, I found a message from him saying he was out drinking with friends and wanted me to come. It was my friend’s last night at the bar that night, so I told him I was just going to go out with work people instead. It had been a long day and I was tired and my phone was dying, so once I finished up with the work party I was planning to just go home and crash.

He didn’t take that well. He responded with a crazy text saying that I had been judging him from the beginning about everything. He said that every question I had ever asked had been a personal attack on him. He said that I told him he had no manners and a drinking problem. (To be fair, I had suggested both of those things, but only in a gentle way – I thought of them as minor issues that could be corrected if we got serious.)

After sending the text, he called me and tried to pick up right where he’d left off. I told him I thought we should talk about it tomorrow – partly because he sounded drunk and partly because I didn’t want to have a fight on the phone in front of all my coworkers. We hung up, but things seemed fine. I got home at 3 AM from the work party and called him but got no answer. The next morning I tried calling him and then texted his name with a question mark, but he didn’t respond. When I decided he just wasn’t taking my calls, I left him one final message:

“I wanted to talk about this but I guess not. Take care and good luck with everything.”

He texted back and said he would call me after work. I waited up till 2:30 AM, but there was no call. The next morning I deleted him off of Facebook, Instagram, and blocked his number. He was a complicated character and looking back, I know I made the right choice – someone who lashes out like that is not a good person to get involved in a relationship with.

Our fling was brief but intense. I call it a “weak romance” – it only was a week long and we never slept together, but it had the arc and intensity level of some of my more serious relationships.

Keeping up with health as a new Mom

It’s hard to be a new parent and find time to keep yourself healthy. Today I had a throat biopsy scheduled for the afternoon, so my day consisted of me rushing from a store (to buy some pants and shorts that I felt comfortable wearing at my current weight), over to my Mom’s to pick up some things and then to the hospital for my appointment. After the biopsy (which was pretty uncomfortable - it basically consisted of them jamming 3 needles into my throat and jiggling them around) I had to rush my mother to her night shift and then finally after that I was able to come home and relax.

And it’s not like today was a one-time thing. Last week I had a dentist appointment scheduled but I had to change the time three times before I was able to make it in. Once I was there, I found out I needed to get a cavity filled, and then I had to rush off to therapy. My partner had previously told me to take a relaxation day for myself, but by the time I got done with the cavity and therapy I was exhausted and my breasts felt like they were going to burst because I hadn’t fed Teo all day. The concept of “alone time” is great but the reality of it is something entirely different when there’s a baby in the picture. In the past I’ve talked about trying to stay fit as a new Mom but it’s not just that - it’s hard just to stay on top of regular day-to-day health concerns.

Once I got into the biopsy room today, the nurse went to get the surgeon and I was left in the room for about 5 minutes. Normally that wait is aggravating, but I knew my boy was safe outside with my mother and I was close enough to hear him cry. And my only responsibility was stay calm while I waited for the doctor to came in with the needles. I sat in that hospital room with my gown on, legs hanging off the edge of the bed, looking around at all the equipment in the room, and I suddenly thought: this is weirdly nice. And I realized it was because it was so quiet. So if I could offer any advice to any other new Moms it would have to be this: enjoy the quiet moments when they come, because there won’t be many.

They say you need a village to raise a child and I’m really feeling that need these days. How do people cope without a nanny? We certainly can’t afford a nanny right now and sadly we don’t have much family support. Most of our immediate family members are either not around, inexperienced with babies, or just not that interested in helping out. For the most part it’s just me, my partner and my Mom, and even though they’re great at times it feels like it’s not quite enough. Sometimes I wonder why as a society we’ve lost our sense of community. Is it because with so much overpopulation in the world our friends and family just see another baby as a burden? I want to still live my life and stay in shape, but how am I supposed to take care of myself and my baby without going totally insane? I’m trying not to get too down on it - it’s only our third month, after all, and I’m sure we’ll figure it out. But if any other new Moms have any tips on how to stay on top of things, I’d love to hear them in the comments!

Jealousy in Relationships

I’ve been thinking a lot about jealousy. Right now I’m both breastfeeding and taking birth control,
both of which can make a woman’s hormones run wild, and I’ve been noticing that lately I’ve been acting more jealous than I’ve ever been. While I have been cheated on a few times in the past, most of the time I’ve dated good guys - I never needed to be that typical jealous overprotective girlfriend. But these days it seems like every conversation with my boyfriend starts, “I think it’s my hormones, but…” He’s wonderful at talking me through things and after we discuss whatever is eating at me I’ll start to feel better. But after this happened a few times, I started to wonder: why am I so jealous? What is it that makes people get jealous?

So I read an article in Psychology Today by a doctor named Seth Meyers (no, not the Late Night comedian!). He discussed the three main reasons that people can get unreasonably jealous in relationships:

Insecurity

The first reason he outlines is INSECURITY. Basically, people worry that they’re not good enough to keep their partner, and they get jealous because deep down they feel like they don’t deserve the other person’s love. To get over insecurity, Dr. Meyers says that people need to work on feeling better about themselves rather than projecting their insecurity onto their partner.

I’m definitely struggling with insecurity at the moment because I don’t feel like myself lately. I’m not my normal weight. I’m not modelling. I’m not even working (though that’s just because of mat leave). I don’t fit into any of my old clothes. Recently I was invited to a wedding, and it took me three malls to find something I was comfortable wearing! I also have some new sexy heels but I haven’t even worn them yet because it’s been so long since I’ve worn heels that I’m not sure if I can handle it. In general, I just don’t feel like my normal beautiful self and I need to work on accepting myself for who I am right now.

Obsessive Thinking

The second reason for jealousy is OBSESSIVE THINKING. People constantly overthink situations and fill in the blanks with negative thoughts. Obsessive thinkers think, “my boyfriend has been out all day. That means that he’s seeing someone,” rather than, “my boyfriend has been out all day. He’s probably just taking some time to relax from the stresses of home life with his friends.”

This is a trap that many of us have fallen into at one point or another in our lives. I know being on mat leave for the past three months I’ve had a ton of time to myself, or just with Teo, and in all that spare time I’ve had lots of time to let my brain run haywire - lots of time for little things to burrow down and blossom into big things. Maybe if I was working full-time my mind would be full enough to put those thoughts on the back burner, but for now I have to find a way to defuse them naturally. I need to learn to understand how to not obsess over things - to use my time more wisely and not focus on what’s out of my control. I need to learn how to trust that my partner loves me and not concern myself with the unknown.

Paranoid Personality

The third reason for jealousy that Dr. Meyers discusses in PARANOID PERSONALITY. Some people just always think that someone is out to get them. Even outside of relationships, they will assume that people are constantly insulting them or trying to get the best of them. They push everything outwards, projecting blame on everyone around them. People who are true victims of this need to learn how to turn their thoughts inwards and hold themselves accountable for their feelings - and if I can be so bold, probably see a therapist to discuss their issues.

I don’t consider myself a paranoid person, but I do always worry that things won’t work out. I always want to hold onto the faith, but when I’m thinking obsessively it’s easy to get a little paranoid. And when I make decisions that are based out of fear rather than love, bad things happen.

In looking at myself, I definitely need to work on overcoming my insecurity and be less obsessive in my thinking in order to become a less jealous girlfriend. And while I don’t necessarily consider myself a paranoid personality, it’s worth keeping in mind how much of a driving force that fear can be. I have to accept that I’m going to get jealous at times over the next few months because of my hormones, but it’s important that I learn some tricks in order to defuse those feelings and go easier on my partner and myself in these post-partum times.

If I can, I’d like to offer three pieces of advice for other people who are struggling with this issue:

-Stop comparing yourself to other people. You’ll always find yourself wanting if that’s what you’re trying to do.
-Stop playing games with your partner. Trying to make them jealous in return can only lead to hurt for everyone involved.
-Don’t let your imagination overpower your reality. Focus on what you have, not on what you lack or what might be happening out of your control.

Hopefully this blog post will help some other people deal with their issues – I know it helped me deal with mine!

Being A Mean Girl

I used to hang out with the guys a lot. Girls were just too much work - there always seemed to be drama and someone who would stab you in the back. When I was in grade school I had a group of girlfriends who eventually turned on me because I had tried to play their game and gotten catty. I ended up not having friends for a whole week - which in kids’ terms is an eternity. I would just sit outside the portables and wait for recess to be over. After that whole debacle, I resolved to never be like that again. I realized that if I acted like that I would never have any girl friends. I did try to change my ways, but over the years I started to gravitate more towards the guys. I decided that guys were easier - they told you to your face if they didn’t like you. Either way, you always knew where you stood.

Fast-forward to the end of high school and it happened all over again. I was part of a tight-knit girl group who all got along because we were the girls who got along better with guys and didn’t like how cliquey other girls were. We all stuck together, but we were always nice to other girls coming in or any girls who happened to be dating our guy friends. We just let each other be ourselves and accepted it because we loved each other unconditionally. Then after high school, I moved in with one of the girls. She was in a bad relationship with a guy who was abusive and cheating on her and she didn’t deserve it. Night after night she would come to my room and cry because she was so upset about how he was treating her. One night I finally told her that he wasn’t good enough for her and I thought she should leave him. The next day they both moved out of the house we were all living in together. I was shocked. I think she must have seriously considered it and then told him what I’d said, because after that she stopped talking to me altogether and all our friends completely cut me out.

I was in shambles. I had had such an amazing support group and had so much fun with these girls and now I couldn’t talk to any of them. For years after that I didn’t trust any girls. And it wasn’t just friends - my mother was hard to trust, and so was my sister. Truly, I didn’t understand girls. To this day it’s hard for me to be friends with girls because I’m always afraid something like that will happen again - but I have made a few good female friends over the years and the ones I do have I cherish and love so much.

I wish females would be nicer to each other. Life is not always about jealousy or competition. It’s not always about whether some other girl has an eye on your partner. What’s important is being strong as a sex and standing together! Honestly, regardless of gender, if you have girls or guys around you that you can’t trust, then get them out of your life. They’re not worth it. And female to female interaction is so important. Social media and society and (some) men are so hard on women every day. Women who like to tear each other down are just enabling a society that wants us to have no self-respect.

We are strong beings. Whether we choose to our not, we can literally make humans in our bodies! We should be killing it in this world. As women we are beautiful, smart, strong, and loving (when we want to be). And I think almost every woman has a motherly instinct that we should learn to tap into more often. I love females as a whole and I love being female but I just wish that other girls could understand how important it is that we treat each other with the respect and love that we all deserve.

More to gain means more to lose

I went to a Paintballing event recently and I was wearing a nice pair of Pink Pumas. A young girl who looked a bit rough in all senses of the word said, “You’re going to wear those shoes in there? They’re going to get fucked up.” As she walked away she added, “Well, if you have the money then why not?”

It really took me aback. To her I probably seemed like I came from money and had tons. I did have a Louis Vuitton purse and I was paying with a credit card, so I understand how she might have perceived that. My initial reaction to her comment was, Hey, I don’t have money either, girl. But then when I stopped to think about it, I realized that yes, I do have money. Not having money was the old me. But still, for the rest of the evening her words kept playing in my mind: ”I guess if you have money…”

Because of my childhood, I never trust it when things are going well for me financially. I worry about when it’s all going to blow up in my face - which until now it always has. When I was young it was usually my mother’s doing, but after a certain age it was usually my fault. I always picked the wrong guys or would be hightailing it from one city to another and leaving whatever I had built for myself behind. I’d spend all my money, then try to save up only to spend it all again on other people or extravagences. I would take big risks and almost always they would backfire. As I got older I began to take less risks, and the blow-ups would happen less and less. (I talk a lot about these things in the book.)

But I was thinking about it today and realized that when I had money and was doing well I think subconsciously I didn’t like it. It was nice not to worry about my credit card getting declined and being able to buy Starbucks whenever I wanted, or to go out to fancy restaurants. But growing up and being very limited because of the lack of money we had was something I was used to. I was always prepared to fall back on my roots.

These days I live in a wonderful home filled with nice furniture and expensive decor. I drive a nice car that my boyfriend gave me, two credit cards that wouldn’t decline unless I bought something crazy, and savings for my new child. If I had time (which I don’t) I could afford to do something extravagant. I’m not saying this to brag - I’m talking about it because it’s part of my journey from humble beginnings and I think everyone deserves a shot.

The thing is, there have been more than a few times in my life where that has been the case - and every time it has happened I have left it all behind and started over with barely anything. Don’t get me wrong - I love my life now. But there is a part of me that misses having a small place, having to budget and enjoying the small things in life. And I know what you’re thinking… I can still do that. (Well not the small place because my partner has SO MUCH STUFF - not to mention the baby.) But the more I think about it, the more I think I must not be comfortable with me doing well. Maybe that’s why I have never really succeeded at anything. Obviously, I have done well at things (like modelling), but I’ve never really been the best at something or really found something I consider my calling in the world. Of course, the bigger reason is because I’ve never been good with commitment. I’m working to overcome that as I build a better life, and that’s why right now I’m fully committed to my partner, my baby and this book. And that in itself is scary. What if I fail?

At this point there is no more room for failure. I will work night and day to be the best at being a partner, mother and writer that I can be. I’ve got to just suck it up and keep trucking. To stop worrying about how things used to be and start focusing on how it is now and how bright my future is. And the key to that is to believe you deserve it. And that’s really the hardest part. Working hard is what it is, but if you don’t believe you deserve what you’re going towards then it will NEVER happen. And that’s something I have to overcome to make this book the best book that it can be.

What keeps me going - DRIVE

One definition of drive is “to propel or carry along by force in a specified direction.” Another is “an innate, biologically determined urge to attain a goal or satisfy a need.” My whole life I have been chasing things. First it was modelling and then when I got all that I could possibly get from modelling I moved onto the book. Now all I think about is succeeding in publishing this book.

Back when I was doing well as a model I remember talking to my brother on the phone about our family. We were wondering why we hadn’t ended up successful. Even though both of our parents came from upper-middle-class backgrounds we grew up on just enough money to scrape by. I asked my brother if I was different. He said that the main difference with me was that I had drive. I had the drive to keep going, to not let a no turn me away from what I wanted. If I really want something I work towards it until I get it.

The thing I’ve struggled with is knowing what I want – too often I would get bored or tired of whatever I was chasing and end up moving onto the next thing. My last name Jackman literally means jack-of-all-trades and I think it’s appropriate. I’ve always felt that I’m naturally good at just about anything I set my mind to, but even something as simple as joining a basketball team in high school was hard because I couldn’t stick to it. But over time, I think I’ve overcome that, and right now I know exactly what I want: to get this book finished and the best book that it can be.

I want to apologize for the lateness of this post. Simon and I were re-working everything, and the regular Monday blog got caught in the balance (not to mention the long weekend). Honestly, I do love change and I think that’s a great trait for me to have because if something isn’t working then I have the flexibility to try another route - and if that doesn’t work then I’ll try another and another until I have exhausted all my choices. After some discussion, we have decided to continue on our journey with a few changes in responsibilities. I won’t get into details here, but suffice it to say that I feel that our focus kind of veered off for a few months what with me just having a baby and him dealing with a concussion. But the same realities that kept us from being gung ho on this project for a while are now the same things that will give us more time to focus on it. I really do feel like we’re getting close.

My brother has never been so right – I am determined to see this book through to the end. My whole life I’ve had my family who believed that I could be something special, and that’s important, but now I have a wonderful partner who pushes me every day. But what’s more is that I have belief now. I believe in my creativity. I believe in myself. And I believe that you can do anything if you have the drive and you believe in yourself. And as a new parent, more than anything it’s my son that makes me believe. I want my son to have everything I didn’t – including success and money, but also including me being there as the best parent I can be. If nothing else, I want to get this book published for Teo.

A Mother's Day Message About Being A Mom

Getting Comfortable In My New Mom Bod

The 6 weeks is over.

For those of you who don’t know, immediately after you have a baby you should have nothing go into your vagina for a while. It’s a time of rest and recovery. At the six week point, your OB does an exam to make sure everything is healing properly and internal organs are returning to their natural size, and you’re good to go.

So I can finally get back to my normal life. What I’m most excited about and I find most important is that now I can have sex again and exercise. I have to say I missed both very much and am happy to get back into it. (I think my partner could say the same!)

Of course, even though some things are returning to normal, I know it’s going to take some time to get my beach bod back and I have to be okay with how my body is now. I’ve tried on my old clothes and they don’t fit. My belly is almost as big as my butt, my legs are fattier than before and my chin is the smallest it’s ever been. Everything jiggles when I walk or run!

This is very different from my modelling days. The nice thing about not doing that anymore is that I don’t have pressure to get back to my old bod super quickly. But I have always maintained my body, always made sure that it was beach ready, and I want to get back to that level. And I will. While I’m working myself up, it’s important that I catch myself when I go to say something scathing to myself and maintain the faith that I will get back to a banging bod!

(I want to say that as long as you’re healthy and you exercise and you eat fairly well than whatever your natural weight is, it’s beautiful. I’m not trying to judge other people’s sizes here. But I’ve been super skinny for my whole life, so this extra weight is a bit of an adjustment.)

When I look in the mirror I try to focus on the things I do like. I’m really enjoying my huge boobs, and I keep telling myself that when I get my stomach back my body will be banging. I also love that my ass got bigger - though it definitely needs to be shaped and toned. I’m very excited about what I will look like after some time spent working out and not eating as much. Also I’ll be breast-feeding and that apparently helps to cut calories.

So I’m going to start going back to my Jeet Kune Do (martial arts) class and going to the gym whenever my baby and man will let me - of course, I can’t do anything anymore without their okay. I just need to keep telling myself I’ll get there. And I don’t know if this is the right way to do it, but I’m not going to set a goal or a date on when my body should be back to what it was. (In all honesty, I don’t think my hips will ever go back to what they were - which I’m happy about because I love my bigger butt). I know the big boobs won’t last forever, but the butt will, and I’m looking forward to working on it.

I’m sure I should enjoy this time in my life where my body is at its worst. And in a real way I can say it’s truly at its best because I did just gave birth, and that’s amazing.

And in the meantime, I’m going to be proud of my Mom Bod - big, small, or just right!

-Sarah

Getting Back On The Horse

Tomorrow will mark one month since my last shift at the restaurant. It’s been a relaxing month, but also a bit of a frustrating one. At first I was happy to have the time to relax, then I came down with a flu, and now I’m starting to feel cabin fever. This whole month has been a lot of lying around the house and not doing a whole lot of anything, and after a while that gets boring. The frustrating thing about being down is that I’m not so unwell that I can’t do anything – but when I do things, I get easily overtired. I can go to the bar, but after one beer I start to feel overstimulated. I can go for a walk, but that doesn’t feel especially productive. I can try to write, but after an hour I feel like I just want to lie down.

Last week, I finally got in to see a physiotherapist and then a psychologist to discuss the best way to go about getting back to normal. The physio in particular said some interesting things about how my brain is working. He described it as a car engine that’s worn down and isn’t getting enough gas. It still gets you where you need, but the performance isn’t optimal – when you slam on the gas pedal, it doesn’t reach top speed. He did some tests on me and concluded that while I’m over the worst of things physically, my brain is still a tick slow when it comes to processing, and the extra energy I’m expending is probably tiring me out.

Although he advised me not to dive back into work, in my boredom I’ve begun to putter around with writing a little bit more once again. I’m still not ready to tell any of my editors I can get back to the grind – or tackle this book project in its entirety – but I’ve at least sent out a few stories again. My thinking is that the best way to ramp up to full speed is to start small, with jobs that don’t have specific deadlines or come with a lot of pressure. When the inevitable rejections come back, I can simply file them away in an email folder and forget about them.

It’s productive, but it’s also disorienting. Sometimes hustling as a writer can feel like swimming in the middle of the ocean and searching for land. You know there’s eventually going to be land in almost any direction, but you have no idea where the closest patch of land is – or the best. There might be a tiny island just out of eyesight on one side, but an entire continent a mile in the opposite direction. Firing off stories and pitches for rejection, I’m casting about searching for my identity. Do I make my name in fiction? Sports? Does writing content anonymously for money help get this book published? (Probably not, but it might keep my bank account full until we can.)

None of the doctors I’ve consulted have told me to rush back to work. They say I need to focus on myself and how to get myself in the best place possible to be functional going forward. I agree in theory, but in practice it’s hard. I find myself growing bored and agitated. I don’t have a lot of discipline. I’m not really supposed to be drinking or playing sports, but I want to go out and shoot hoops and muck it up at the bar – just to do something. I’m understanding more and more those scenes in movies where the cancer patient breaks out of the hospital because, damn the doctor, he just wants to have fun again.

But at the same time, I have to find a way to step back and think about how to get better. I want to be able to write and work for a lot of years going forward. I have to figure out a way to throw all my energy into making this book the best book it can possibly be. And I know that actually focusing on things like diet and exercise is what will get me back to normal sooner. But old habits die hard…

On that note, I’m off to see the physio for a follow-up appointment.

-Simon

Learning About Leaps: How An App Saved My Sanity

This week has been one of my hardest yet as a mother. My partner had to leave for work for 4 days and I was left to take care of the baby mostly on my own (though my mother did come over and help me out for one of the days - thank God!). Teo was crying a lot all week and feeding and changing him didn’t seem to be soothing him at all. He wanted to be held all the time and he was eating A LOT. I had to be feeding him almost every hour, day or night, which meant that I wasn’t getting any sleep at all myself. I couldn’t figure out what was wrong with him. It was so stressful and I started to feel like I was failing as a mom. He was just so fussy!

When my partner would call to check in on me I’d be in shambles, feeling like I just didn’t know what to do next. But thank God for one of my friends who gave birth three weeks before me. I finally messaged her to ask her if she’d gone through anything similar to what I was going through with Teo. She told me that it sounded like Teo was going through a leap and it was totally normal. Then she turned me on to an app which helps new mothers understand what’s going on with their newborns.

The app is called The Wonder Weeks and it’s based on a book by a doctor named Frans Plooij. There are apparently ten major leaps that take place in the first 20 months of birth as the baby grows and develops. Teo was going through the leap that takes place around week 5, when babies begin to see greater distances and develop a greater awareness of the world around them. Because of that mental development, he got crankier, started to eat more, and needed to be held more.

I entered Teo’s birth date in the app, and it gave me a sense of how long I should expect this leap to last and when to expect the next big leap for Teo. It has a calendar I can sync up with Teo’s next expected developmental step. It also showed me some cool videos so that I could better understand exactly what Teo was going through. The app also gave me some tips on how to manage Teo and some stimulating exercises that are best suited to a child going through that specific leap. It’s only been a few days and already the app has been heaven-sent.

I no longer feel like I’m failing as a mom. The app was only $3.99 and so far it’s been totally worth it! My partner came back and I felt like I could tell him I’d been successful as a parent while he was gone. I do have to say, though – there are a lot of apps out there which are just meant to take advantage of desperate and sleep-deprived new parents. They try to make a few quick bucks without offering anything of value. So far, I’ve only used apps which have been recommended to me by other girlfriends of mine with new kids, and so far, so good. This app has really helped to give me peace of mind!

-Sarah

Living The Single Life vs Settling Down With A Family

Hitting “Play” On Life (And Writing)

Rest is a dangerous thing. Everyone needs it, but how much do they really need it? At what point does “I’m resting” stop being a statement of fact and start being an excuse?

I’ve spent the past week (since my final shift at the burger joint) resting up. That means sleeping in till 1 or 2, rarely leaving the house except to walk around the neighbourhood, and not doing any writing. But it’s not as if I’m spending this time doing nothing. I’m reading some, I’m staying up to date on the latest sports scores, I’m eating. I even went to a baseball game on Tuesday and went out to the bar last night. Is this stuff better or worse for me than working? As I said to a doctor who called me from the concussion clinic earlier this week – “I’m improved and I’m functional – but I’m certainly not normal.” My head still gets a bit foggy if I stare at a screen too long, drink alcohol, or am surrounded by too much action. It’s a subtle thing – something that can be worked around for a while. But it still exhausts me.

The thing is, there are no goalposts. I'm a sports fan, and often over my years of watching sports I've watched as players struggled to return from injury. Someone will sprain a shoulder and the fans will be given a timeline of four-to-six weeks. After six weeks, fans will start clamouring for the player to come back, and then we'll find out that the recovery has stalled, that it's going to be at least another six weeks. And so it goes until the player finally returns months later. People get healthy when they get healthy; there are no hard and fast parameters when it comes to recovery.

So am I ready to start writing again? I certainly don’t feel like I’m able to take on a full slate, but I'm sure I could bang out an article or two if I took it slow. In trying to force myself to rest up, I'm almost compromising my ability to work. I feel like I’m waiting for the day when I’m going to wake up and feel like there’s absolutely nothing wrong with me, and now I’m realizing that that day may be months away. There’s a delicate balance to be struck between productivity and health. If I do nothing but rest, I feel lazy and unproductive. But if I throw myself into work, I feel unhealthy.

I sent an email to one of my editors today assuring her that I would be getting back to work “within the next couple of weeks.” But that’s, at best, a guess. The main thing at this point is that I don’t know whether putting the time and effort into writing every day has the potential to set me back, or whether engaging my mind will actually help me begin to feel more functional. One thing I have noticed is that sometimes going out and getting out of my head seems to be the best thing for me – as if all I need to do is laugh a little and relax and I’ll be fine. Maybe what I’m feeling is the effects of stress and lack of sleep over the past decade as much as it is a direct impact of the blow to the head.

All of which is to say, I don’t know when I’ll get back on the horse and start pushing this book again. My hope is that this month I can get my sleep cycle into rhythm and get back to writing every morning. Once that happens, I can gradually begin adding things to my plate.

Anyway, those are the goalposts - until they move again.

-Simon

The Beginning Of A New Journey

Well, it’s been a spring full of change and news around these parts, with a new baby for Sarah and health issues for me. Since my injury relapsed, I’ve been working but not writing much – partly on doctor’s orders, partly because it strains my brain to stare at a screen for too long and/or put the time into doing research, and partly because I’ve been generally quite lethargic. It hasn’t been a particularly fun couple of months, so I decided it was time to make a real change. Two weeks ago I put in my notice at my restaurant job. I worked my last day yesterday and am now officially free from my wage-slavery. The notion of total freedom is a pleasant one, but it’s also a little bit scary – especially in light of how unwell I’ve been feeling. Without a steady income, I’m going to need to rely on being able to get back on the horse and start writing before too long, and trying to make some money that way.

As much as I hoped that this would be an exciting time turning a new page in my life, as a worked through my last day yesterday I didn’t feel victorious or excited in the way that maybe I thought I would. I have a recollection of quitting my movie theatre job when I was 19 to go off to university and explore bigger and better things and feeling excited and expectant. Maybe it’s being in my thirties, but my last day yesterday had none of that unfettered joy. It was a day like any other – simply a day where I didn’t have to come back in tomorrow. Certainly I was looser and more relaxed than usual, but more than anything the feeling I have today is relief. I cut my chains, but I still need to find a way to make a living, and that’s no easy feat.

I was contacted by a concussion clinic today, so hopefully in the next few weeks I can rest up, learn to manage my symptoms, and begin to write again. I still have a serious article that I was trying to pitch before my symptoms worsened, and I do hope I can finish it up with a second interview of my subject and get it published somewhere notable. And even though I haven’t done any significant writing in at least a month, it’s kind of nice to look back and see how much I feel like I accomplished between November and February. I hope that without a 30-hour-a-week job to slog through, I can soon redouble my efforts on that front without burning myself out again.

I’m hungover and tired today, so my apologies if this post is a little more sombre than the title would suggest. Quitting my job to do what I love is a major step for me, and I’m especially looking forward to enjoying a full, free summer with all the time in the world to enjoy the weather, take in some local baseball games, and tie up all sorts of loose ends that get pushed aside by the daily grind. I look forward to doing some real cooking at home, to dusting off the bike outside and getting the tires fixed. In fact, even without trying, I can already feel a list of dozens of obligations beginning to fill my head. For now, I’m pushing them aside – R and R (and all the other Rs – relaxation, rehabilitation, recuperation) is far more important at this point. I feel like I need to focus on what’s important in life, and think about – and even dream on – the future. And it goes without saying that this book will be a major part of that process once I’m physically and mentally ready to focus my energies on something.

Working is a grind for anyone. But living is more important than working. I looked in the mirror one day and asked if my work-life balance was where I needed it to be – if I was working to live or living to work. And I concluded that I was living to work far too much for someone working at what, fundamentally, is a shitty service job. I had begun to feel trapped in a routine where my workplace had become my personal jail, but I finally realized that there was nothing keeping me cooped in my cell except for a misplaced sense of loyalty and the desire to see my bank account rise at the end of the month. And that simply wasn’t important to me anymore. My hope by freeing myself is that I can learn to live again - whatever that may mean.


-Simon

What To Expect When Expecting

The Mean Things People Say When You’re Nine Months Pregnant

Well, after nine months, it finally happened – I’m a Mom! Our new little boy Teo was born on March 15th and he’s healthy and happy.

The week before I gave birth I think I hit a breaking point. I felt huge. I only gained 45-50 pounds in total during my pregnancy but I have never been that big in my life so it was a huge adjustment. I was already feeling self-conscious about my size. (I would expect that all pregnant women feel that way – not only are you bigger around the waist, but everything else can swell up too, your hormones are out of whack, and just in general you don’t feel like your usual beautiful self.) And when people starting making fun of me for it, I just couldn't handle it.

For the most part I was pretty lucky as far as not being subjected to too much in the way of insults, but as I got bigger I did start to hear things slip out from people I know and love. In the last couple of months I found out that my baby was below average in size and that I would probably need to be induced to let him out early. When my doctor first told me that the baby was undersized, I asked if I needed to eat more or gain some weight, but he said of course not – he said I was healthy and the baby’s vitals were good, and that babies just sometimes come out small. But when I told my friends and family about this, they kept pestering me to eat more. And it really got to me – I felt like I needed to constantly defend myself and my eating habits, which was the last thing I wanted to be doing.

But there were other things people said to me that really bothered me too. Most of these were said in jest, or casually, with the implication that I “could take it” – but it doesn’t mean I liked it. They included things like:

You’re a monster now who just eats all the time. 

The person said that this was a joke and that they only said it because they knew I could take it. I was fine with it at the time, but this was only the first in a cavalcade of insulting jokes and snide comments.

Wow, I’ve never seen you so fat before, this is great! Let me get a picture.

This person took a picture which ended up on Instagram. It bothered me, but again, I tried to brush it off. After all, I was only a few days away from giving birth.

How does it feel to be a whale?

This hurt, but I realized that this person was only re-purposing words that had come out of my own mouth. The way this made me feel was a harsh reminder that if you’re having body issues, you shouldn’t use hurtful words to describe yourself because then that will make other people think that it’s appropriate to throw those words back in your face.

I don’t want another child with you because you didn’t exercise while you were pregnant.

I’m sure you can guess who said this last – and in his defense, he was grumpy and tired when he said it. My partner has been an amazing support system throughout my pregnancy, during labour and after the birth of young Teo. I couldn’t do any of it without him. But anyone who’s been in a serious relationship will understand that sometimes bad things get said in stressful situations, and when this got said it actually made me cry. It just felt like at that point in my pregnancy everything that was being said around me was really mean or hurtful. The thing was, I was going to AquaFit throughout my pregnancy – which is at least some form of exercise. So it also wasn't entirely fair.

In general, I can take a joke better than most. The things said to me in my state were peanuts compared to the things that some pregnant women have to put up with. But in general as a society I think we need to be more mindful of pregnant women everywhere. Every woman is different, but it just makes sense to be nice and respectful to a woman who is going through the process of making a whole new person inside of her. Anyway, I’ve now given birth and it was the most painful thing I’ve ever experienced – the hardest thing I have ever done or ever will do. (Maybe that’s a topic for our next blog post?)

SHOW SOME RESPECT!

-Sarah

When Life Intervenes

About four months ago - it was a few days after Halloween - I slipped trying to change the temperature in the shower. I tried to grab onto the curtain as I fell, but it came down with me, and on the way down my head slammed into the bathroom counter. I didn’t hit my head so hard that I blacked out, but I did hit it fully flush. In the moments afterwards, I immediately thought, “Shit. That’s exactly the kind of innocuous injury that could turn out to have major complications.” My brother and two of my aunts have had significant concussions in the last few years, and it seemed like I was destined to be next on the list. 

After I fell, I felt dazed – not pained, but confused enough that when I sat down to start writing a few minutes later I could tell that something wasn’t right. I went to the doctor, and as the week progressed and I continued to feel discombobulated, I went back to the doctor a week later. She acknowledged that I might have suffered a minor concussion.

Concussion symptoms are weird, and hard to describe to someone who hasn’t gone through them. There was no real pain for me (aside from the very occasional pinch). Mainly there was exhaustion and the feeling of a pounding hole in my head – like my thoughts weren’t completely coherent. That’s not to say I couldn’t formulate sentences or understand things, but rather that there was some kind of a gap in my thought process. I was like a computer that still worked fine in spurts but was incredibly laggy and needed a restart every 2 hours. For about nine days I rested up, mostly avoiding the internet and work. When I did go into work, I wore thick clip-on shades to shut out the industrial lighting at my job, and occasionally earplugs to block out the music, conversation, banging doors and utensils – essentially, all the sounds that inevitably come from working in the kitchen. Once I hit my head, it was like my sensory register was turned up to 11 – all the little sights and sounds that I had spent years learning how to block out were coming at me like they were blaring out of movie theatre speakers.

I basically spent a week in bed with the lights out. About nine or ten days after my initial concussion, I got up and tried to take a walk around the neighbourhood at about 9 in the evening. To my surprise, it went well. I wore the shades to shut out car headlights, but other than that I had no real difficulty handling the sights and sounds that come with being in the city at night. It felt good to finally leave my bedroom and experience the world again. Over the following week, I gradually worked myself up to full speed again. By the end of November I felt essentially normal. I still carried the shades to work, but I didn’t wear them. I could watch basketball games without any concern about aggravating my brain. And most of all, I could write again.

Feeling fully recovered, I started to ramp up my workload. I started writing for a Raptors site. I wrote a number of articles in a row for a clickbait site, in order to get a payout reward for writing so many in such a short span. After that, I began hunting around for more writing work. I was focused on building my resume up, all while working four days a week at my restaurant job. I felt newly refreshed, and I put pressure on myself to try to achieve as much as I possibly could as a writer in the shortest possible time frame. And it worked for a while. I learned how to handle multiple assignments a week. I planned my time around writing. I’ve never been a particularly organized person, but my weekly schedule became more regimented.

But then one day about three weeks ago I got to a Thursday morning (which was my first shift of the week – I work in an industry where Thurs-Sun shifts are the norm). I realized that I was feeling more tired than usual. I turned my girlfriend and said, “I’m exhausted. I think I really need to take it easy this weekend.” She pointed out that if I was serious about taking it easy, I shouldn’t be working. I shrugged the comment off, figuring that doing my best to not overly strain myself that weekend would be sufficient. I could rest on Monday. I got through my four days, but by Sunday I was absolutely burnt out. I was asked to stay a couple of hours extra on Sunday to close the store, and I realized I simply couldn’t do it. My head was getting all muddled up. I was too tired to do anything – even the most basic tasks at work. I started making mistakes on the line – little mistakes, like skipping a burger or missing a modification on an order. The other supervisor agreed to close for me and I left early – still thinking that a bit of rest was all I needed.

I rested for three days, but by Wednesday I knew something was wrong – I couldn’t go into work. So it was back to the doctor, and another week spent resting, almost as if the concussion had returned full force. My head began throbbing in exactly the same way it had when I had my initial concussion – just waves of exhaustion and confusion pouring over me. At one point we ordered food for delivery and the trip from the couch to the front door to collect the food was so exhausting that by the time I got back to the living room I needed to lie down. Staring at a computer screen for longer than 5 minutes was overwhelming. After a week, I still felt messed up, so I returned to the doctor and explained my situation. She agreed that I’d been overdoing it, and simply needed to stop working so hard. In short, she told me that I would need to choose between my writing work and the restaurant job that pays the bills, at least in the short term.

Since that doctor visit, I’m feeling a lot better. I’m starting to watch my basketball games instead of listen to them again. I can check the internet when I need to. I’m no longer curled on the couch with my head in my hands. In other words, I’m functional. But I’m still not normal. I still get home from work at 2 AM and sleep till noon. I still need to take fifteen minutes to relax every few hours. I haven’t watched a single movie in probably a month. Going forward, I’ve scaled back my writing commitments – informing two of the sites that I was writing for that I needed to take an indefinite hiatus. Another site I plan to return to tomorrow, but only with a very reduced workload. If there’s anything I’ve learned from the past few months, it’s that head injuries are nothing to take lightly.

Between Sarah’s baby, and my head injury, the progress on this book certainly isn’t what either of us expected it to be a year ago – or even six months ago. Life comes at you fast. Goals are great, but sometimes real life gets in the way, and between both of our physical situations, I don’t think either of us are in a position to push as hard as we’d like on this book right now. But Sleeping With The Material World is our child and it will persevere even if its parents neglect it. We will get this book finished…eventually.

-Simon

Pregnancy Update Vlog: Ready To Pop

Dating Diary: Just Friends

As soon as class guy walked into his first class a few minutes late I was hooked. This guy was sexy, with a great body and beautiful hair and skin. Once I got to know him a little more I was all in. He was only 20, so about ten years younger than me (which made me feel like a bit of a cradle robber) but in every other way he seemed perfect. He was funny, highly intelligent, and a gentleman. He had a good job and home, great friends, and a sense of style. We started hanging out outside of class and it seemed like he liked the same music and food as me. Things were going somewhere.

But as things progressed, I started sleeping over at his house a lot and we still didn’t do the deed. I started wondering if there was something wrong. Finally, on one of my visits, we tried. And I have to say that either the guy had a problem getting up or he was on roids or something, because it didn’t go well. I wondered if maybe he just wasn’t attracted to me.

We stayed up late that night and the next day I was working a double shift at work and his friend was coming from out of town to visit him. Since we were both busy, we didn’t talk – which is fine. I don’t necessarily need to talk to a guy I’m seeing casually every day. (But at the same time, when he didn’t call me I felt like he wasn’t that into me; it would have been nice for him to let me know he had a great time.) By the following day I had decided that I didn’t want to sleep with him again, so I would just call him and say that I just wanted to be friends. 

But I was awkward about the sexual problems and I didn’t want to bring them up, so I came up with what I thought was a smooth way to wriggle out of it. I figured I’d use him not calling the next day as an excuse. In the end, it was a stupid decision – it just made me look crazy. He wasn’t even mad about being just friends, but he kept trying to explain why he was too busy to call. The thing was, I didn’t actually care, so I told him not to worry about it – we’d just hang out next time we saw each other in class. The class rolled around, and we left together as usual. As we were walking, he turned to me.

“I just wanted to explain why I didn’t call. I knew you were working all day, and I was going to that show with my friend. I knew we’d talk to each other again…”

“Look,” I finally said. “That wasn’t the real reason. I don’t really care if a guy calls me the next day. The reason I told you that is because I didn’t enjoy the sex the other night.”

“Oh,” he said.

“So, just friends?”

“Just friends, okay.”

He didn’t ask any more questions and we went our separate ways. A few days later, I started wondering if I’d made a mistake. The guy seemed perfect in every way except in the sack. I messaged him saying I wanted to give it one more shot. Maybe our problems that first night had been a one-off, and there was more to him than that. He said he wasn’t really interested, that he’d moved onto seeing other people. I told him so had I, and we left it at that.

The most awkward thing was seeing him in class afterwards. We totally stopped hanging out as friends and for a while he avoided me like the plague. It made class super weird and made me realize why they say it’s not a good idea to hook up with anyone you’ll have to see every day afterwards if it fucks up. The weirdest thing of all is that after the class ended he started texting me looking for a quick fuck. I kept turning him down, but he kept asking even as I went through other boyfriends and changed phone numbers. Finally I told him I was pregnant and he backed off.

I don’t know what the lesson is here – maybe it’s to be careful what you ask for. Just because someone seems great at first doesn't mean they're right for you.

Working The Long Game

I’ve always wanted to write books. At some point in the last few years I came across a scrap paper that I must have filled out when I was about 6 years old. Under the category asking what job I wanted to do, I put something like, “firefighter or author.” I honestly have no idea where I came up with the idea that I wanted to be a firefighter (is that just a universal little kid thing?), but I definitely knew all along that I wanted to be a writer. As a kid, my nose was always buried in a book. Some of them were literary books passed down from my university-educated parents, but a lot of them weren’t. They were Scholastic books, adventurous stories about kids like The Boxcar Children, The Hardy Boys, and later the Animorphs. Basically, it was all serialized fiction which eschewed the literary bent for adventure and simplicity. Later, in university, when I found myself trying to be super-literary, I had to remind myself that my formative years were spent reading a lot of pulp fantasy and mystery, and not the (capital-C) Classics.

My first attempt to write a book came when I was about 10. I wrote about 30 pages of a crime thriller about a little kid and his friend who were somehow tasked with investigating a mysterious accident. It didn’t get very far – at some point I think I realized that I didn’t really have any idea what the kids were going to find, and the story was quickly abandoned. That pattern followed through much of high school, as time and time again I would start a story only to leave it abandoned after a chapter or two. Usually there was some sense that I’d run out of ideas and didn’t know how to drive the story to a sweeping conclusion, but I also had a tendency to agonize over the sections that were already written and either compulsively edit them or just give up, feeling like they exemplified my failure as a writer. I felt incapable of finishing anything. In the end, I would get stuck and move onto a new idea that seemed more tantalizing.

Follow-through is really important in being successful in any aspect of life. One of the first things one of my teachers preached in writing school was to work on finishing things, because history is littered with writers swimming in half-finished manuscripts who never went anywhere. I’ve gotten a bit better at completing projects since university, but not much – I’m still very much a work in progress, and stories without deadlines tend to hang in eternal limbo. It‘s with this history firmly in my mind that in the past few months I’ve been forced to set this project – at least the nitty-gritty work of writing and editing – a little bit to the side. This time, it wasn’t simply out of a loss of interest or feeling stuck. I felt like I was absolutely capable of continuing to work on the book and between Sarah’s original manuscript and my detailed notes, I have a very strong notion on how to complete the book. But I also knew that if we were going to sell this story to editors and publishers, they needed to know that we were capable writers. They needed to know that putting a book in our hands was the responsible thing to do. So I put the manuscript aside and set out to, in so many words, make a name for myself. While I knew that I had to keep my expectations in check and not expect to get big-time gigs immediately, I also knew my portfolio lacked the punch to get noticed in a slush pile and that any decent credentials would be better than what I had. If getting a book published is the end goal, getting a shorter article published in a mid-level magazine is a means to that end. It’s been a moderate success so far. While nothing I’ve written has made me an overnight success, my name is significantly more Googleable than it used to be and I’ve had a few articles that have seen widespread circulation or received some outside praise.

The other day, for the first time in my life, I pitched two major magazines with a story I’ve been independently researching. In response, I received two generally complimentary rejection emails. The first email was from an editor I have worked with before who suggested that the story was interesting, but not newsworthy enough for his publication. The other editor thanked me for the pitch but stated that the story was “not quite right at this time.” In my reading up on how to get published in the magazine industry, I have come under the impression that “not quite right at this time” often means that the story pitched was too big for the writer’s credentials – that it may have been a workable story but not one that an editor was willing to trust in the hands of an unknown. I have no idea if that was the true underpinning of my response note – perhaps there was another reason, or several, why it didn’t fit into their criteria for publication – but it seems like an entirely reasonable read on the situation. The article I was (and still am) hoping to write is a long-form piece, but it’s a long-form piece that might top out at a couple thousand words. Sleeping With The Material World is a long-form piece that will be running 100,000 words – and as such, an editor is going to need that much more faith in the writer handling the project.

Writing is hard. The more research I do, the more articles I come up with that are just disgruntled writers writing about writing, or preachy articles about how to get stuff rejected. More and more, it seems there are more people writing stuff than reading it, which is kind of a sad reality of our modern world. Between writing, working at my full-time job, and having Netflix readily available, I’m almost embarrassed to admit how many books I read these days – and that’s as a writer! I certainly make the effort to always be working on a novel, but there are certainly weeks where I barely read anything offline. But that's not the point. Really, being a productive writer is about pitching and getting work done. Reading is intellectually stimulating and important on various levels, but ultimately unproductive.

Of course, while I’m over here trying to get some smaller work published, the Sleeping With The Material World manuscript sits idly by, not getting nearly as much work or love as it should. Between Sarah’s pregnancy and my writing work elsewhere, along with both of us having full-time jobs to pay the bills, it’s become a little like an older brother who feels neglected because the new baby has everyone’s attention. And honestly, we haven’t had as much time to work on the manuscript in the last few months as we would like. But it’s not abandonment, at least not in the way I used to abandon my stories. It’s about working the long game.

-Simon

Exercising With Other Moms-To-Be

When I got pregnant, I was doing a martial arts class a couple of times a week and working out on top of that. My class was in Jeet Kune Do, a type of martial arts which involves a lot of takedowns, kicks, punches, and sometimes sticks and knives. I would often come home with bruises on my legs and arms. So when I got pregnant, my OB told me I couldn’t do Jeet Kune Do anymore, because the contact was risky for the baby. Around the time I stopped, I generally became extremely tired and seemingly lost all motivation to work out. I was working a lot of hours at work and I was just blah. I began to fall into a rut where I wasn’t participating in any physical activity at all.

The fact that my partner could still go to class and I couldn’t grated on me. I started to get depressed, and jealousy and hormones took over. I realized that I needed to be doing something – just lying at home feeling pathetic wasn’t my thing. One of my pregnant girlfriends told me she was doing Aquafit and I was welcome to join her for a class. I wasn’t convinced at first, but I figured I’d try one class and see what it was all about.

The first half hour of my first class was just a discussion about pregnancy and after-birth topics, and I learned a lot about what to think about when a baby is coming into your life. After the talk we all headed downstairs to the pool and spent an hour doing some exercises. Afterwards, I felt relieved and like I’d accomplished something. Because the whole class was geared towards pregnancy and after birth, I learned a lot. Being around other pregnant women who could understand what I was going through was such a nice change from my everyday life, and pretty soon I was a regular at the class.

Of course, as my body grew, my two-piece bathing suit kept shrinking. Fortunately, I’m small enough that I didn’t grow out of it entirely, It just started to look a little weird – I didn’t have to go out and buy a pregnancy bathing suit (maternity clothes are expensive!).

Whether it’s Aquafit or something slightly different, I’d recommend some kind of communal exercise like this to all moms-to-be. There are lots of reasons for that, but here are just a few:

1. It’s nice to be around other women experiencing the same thing as you 
2. You can make friends 
3. It’s good for you physically 
4. It’s good for you mentally
5. Learning how other moms-to-be are planning ahead can help you make your own choices when it comes to the baby 
6. It’s a refreshing break from work and home life 
7. It’s a time to spend bonding with the baby, even though it’s still growing inside of you 

Being pregnant slows you down a lot – you’re literally carrying around a huge weight inside of you, after all. But while that may be an easy excuse to do nothing, that doesn’t mean that it’s healthy to just lie around the house. Staying physically active is important for a pregnant body.

Dating Diary: A Foot Fetish?

I’d been casually acquainted with this fellow model at my agency for a few years. The first time we had met was at a Mac Body Painting show where we got to see each other naked. I liked what I saw and I guess he did too, but nothing came of it because he hooked up with one of the makeup artists after the show and I left. Years went by and we ran into each other at a few castings. We would talk here and there but I always thought he was a bit of a mimbo (male bimbo), so I wasn’t really interested. Besides, the only model I ended up dating in all my years in the industry turned out to be gay, which kind of turned me off the idea of dating the male talent in general.

But eventually this mimbo and I ended up doing a casting for an alcohol commercial where we played boyfriend and girlfriend. At the time I was newly single and had just moved back to Toronto, and after the casting we started talking about religion and astrology and for the first time in all my years of rubbing shoulders with this guy I thought that maybe there was more to him than just looks. I gave him my number and he walked me to the streetcar stop. We stood there talking for about an hour as streetcar after streetcar passed me by. It was like I couldn’t tear myself away. Finally I told him I had to go because I was going to be late for work. He gave me a hug and kissed me on the cheek. I was a little shocked.

“Thank you?” I said. Then I hopped on the streetcar.

I was busy for a few days, but we eventually made plans for the following Sunday. Every time I had seen him up to this point was at a casting, so I was familiar with his clean-cut photo-ready look, but on Sunday I was a bit shocked to find out what he looked like in real life – unshaven, with clothing that was a little bit dishevelled and long, dirty fingernails. (I can’t stand dirty fingernails.) He came to my area in Etobicoke and we went to an Italian bakery for lunch, then walked down to the water. He showed me some Tai Chi and I showed him the Kabuki movements I was learning in an acting class. Despite his appearance, I was having a really good time and we ended up going for some Thai food where he made me laugh super awkwardly by singing to me in the restaurant. Mostly it was goofy and fun and romantic, and I didn’t want the fun to stop. After dinner it was getting dark so I asked if he wanted to come over and watch a movie or something. Inside, we talked for a little while and then he asked if he could see my feet.

“No, why?” I said. “Do you have a foot fetish?”

“What if I do?”

I was a little surprised, but at this point I needed to know more.

“What do you do, like, suck on toes and stuff?”

“Yeah, among other things. Let me see them.”

I told him I wasn’t interested because I wasn’t into that. As we continued to talk, a few other things about him came out. He was thirty years old and still lived with his Mom, a pothead, and pretty into the Bible. He still went to church every Sunday and he wanted me to believe too. I don't know how I feel about religion, but I'm certainly not that committed.

I had a lesbian love scene I was working on for my acting class where I had to kiss the other girl at the end. I asked this guy to help me rehearse the scene, but I warned him from the top that I didn’t want to act the kiss out. I just wanted to practice my lines. We ran it through a few times without the kiss, but on the fourth go-round he came over and kissed me. He had great lips, even though they smelled like roast beef and cigarettes, and after we kissed I found I couldn’t focus on the scene anymore. I hadn’t been touched by a man in about four months and I knew I wanted more. We sat there awkwardly for a few minutes, and then I stood up and said I had to run an errand. As I walked towards the door, our eyes locked and suddenly we were kissing again, more intensely than before. Soon our bodies were all twisted together, my legs wrapped around his torso, but then I realized I didn’t want to go any further. We stopped, and I appreciated that he didn’t push the issue.

After he left, I thought about things and decided he wasn’t for me. I was probably just a bit desperate because I hadn’t hooked up with anyone in a long time. In the end, the foot fetish thing was too weird, and I didn’t want a relationship with a grubby pothead who still lived with his Mom. But we’re still Facebook friends and I wish him the best in finding a girl who is also into foot fetishes.

Dating Diary: Norton the Non-Communicator

It started on OkCupid. I matched with a guy who I’ll refer to as Norton, because he vaguely reminded me of Edward Norton. He seemed strange, mysterious, sexy, and intelligent, plus he was Irish. I have Irish heritage, so I’m always drawn to the Irishmen. After some back and forth on the site over a few weeks, I finally gave him my number and we planned to go out on two dates.

At the time I was dealing with some private family stress, and as I was struggling with that, I got sick. The stress brought it on. I had a serious infection and ended up spending some time in the hospital. I was completely out of commission for a week. Once I recovered from the infection, I got sick for another two weeks, and then I discovered I needed to get my wisdom teeth removed. After a month straight of being laid up in bed, this guy Norton was the last thing on my mind, but we kept chatting through the app as I recovered. I felt like through the sickness I was releasing all of the toxins – all of my negativity that had built up over time. It was awful, but it was also cleansing.

I wound up cancelling both of our original dates. Norton said he wasn’t going to ask me out again because a) I kept cancelling and b) I looked like a snob in my profile pic. (I don’t think I’m a snob!) I felt bad so I invited him out the following Saturday. We met at a French place I knew that had a broad menu and was kind of a bar – it was a good spot because we couldn’t decide if we were meeting for drinks, apps, or dinner. I wasn’t hungry so I ordered a fruit salad and a drink, and he ordered a huge piece of meat. (I was worried that he would think I’m one of those girls who doesn’t eat because of how thin I am. But really I just wasn’t hungry.)

The conversation went well – he gradually progressed from being a bit standoffish to opening up and telling me some things about himself. (Must have been the alcohol.) He told me his roommate was moving out. The night went great and we ended up back at his place. I told him casually during the course of our conversation that I was interested in going on a trip to the state of Goa. Later in the evening he flat-out stated that I was going to move in with him and then he was going to come with me to Goa. I told him he was nuts to say that on a first date, but at the same time I was tickled that he’d suggested it. It made me think that he really liked me. We didn’t end up sleeping together – he was too drunk – but I left his place at five in the morning feeling like things had gone really well.

I was busy with work the next day but we ended up on meeting on Monday. I went over to his place and we watched a few episodes of Sherlock. He lived near my work in the downtown core, and it was easier to go to his house than to go home or invite him over. Then on Tuesday we went out again. We had a drink on a beautiful rooftop patio and then went to a movie where I discovered he had a weird thing for Rachel McAdams. He told me that they worked out at the same gym, had had a couple of conversations, and that she even hired him to clean her basement once. The whole thing seemed kind of weird – people get really weird about celebrities. His obsession with Rachel McAdams should have been a bit of a red flag.

We had lunch again on Wednesday before I went to work, but then I started to notice something weird about the way that he was texting me. It was like he didn’t want to keep seeing me, but was texting me just for fun. We would talk back and forth throughout the day, but he didn’t answer my texts when I got off work. When I told him that, he denied it. He said he was already asleep by the time I finished up at work.

I invited him to a keg party on Friday. One of my girlfriends was throwing it for her brother who was going to be leaving to go touring across Canada and I wanted to bring Norton as my date. Before the party we went for Italian food and I made it clear that I was still talking to other guys because we weren’t official or anything yet. He didn’t like that and said he was jealous. At some point he admitted that he’d only had one serious relationship in the past. He seemed to be a little bit off in the way he thought about things, like he wasn't totally there. I think looking back that maybe he had Aspergers’ or something.

I think he enjoyed himself at the party, but it was a bit weird for me to be going to a kegger. I hadn’t been to one in years, I walked Norton home and took a cab back to my place. I was a bit annoyed that he had never attempted to venture into the west end where I lived. The next day we were planning our first official sleepover, and he made a big deal about popcorn. He said he had to get some and then asked me if I had any. When I got to his place he had to run out and buy some because neither of us had any popcorn. It was totally ridiculous. Then he promised me breakfast in the morning.

We didn’t do it that night – it was my time of the month and I didn’t want to do anything. The next morning I woke up before he did and asked him if he had any tea. He said he didn’t. I told him I had to go, and he walked me to the bus stop. I still hadn’t eaten anything and now I had no time to eat any breakfast, so I just grabbed some shitty Starbucks on the way to work. It wasn’t great.

I texted him a few times over the next couple of days, but our schedules didn’t line up so we didn’t see each other. On the following Monday I had my surgery for my wisdom teeth, and Norton asked if I wanted him to come over on Monday night for emotional support. I knew I was going to need some help, but my Mom was coming over to take care of me so I told him I’d be fine. I didn’t want him to see me all drugged up and swollen. The surgery was very unpleasant and my mouth bled for about three days afterwards. It’s not an experience I would recommend to anyone. As I lay in bed recovering, with my Mom taking care of me, I got all sorts of messages from friends and other guys who were flirting with me, all wishing me well. But nothing from Norton. Finally I messaged him to ask how his day was going. I was upset – I had thought he really liked me.

This is the reason you're single and why you've only had one serious relationship, I told him.

I said that I wanted to be with someone who showed me he could fit me into his life, not one that just says he wants me in his life. It takes effort to make a relationship work – a guy has to cater to a girls’ needs sometimes. He told me he had been golfing all day and went to dinner afterwards with work friends and was too busy to text me. It didn’t seem good enough. I was done with him.

It was a good-bye fight, an I’m-going-to-move-on-with-my-life fight, but that wasn’t quite the end of Norton. In the end he won me back and we started dating for real. I even moved in with him for a few months. But after a while, the Aspergers and the inability to communicate just got to be too much. I broke it off with him and found my own condo downtown.