Christmastime is Here

I’m not quite sure what happened to the second half of November and the first half of December; last time I checked the calendar it was November 5th and Christmas was merely a blip on the horizon. Now, it looms less than 10 days away and I wonder, where did the last 40 days go?

I was fully prepared to be, well, fully prepared for Christmas in advance this year. I thought that in the later part of November that I would leisurely stroll about in the shops finding the perfect something for all the friends on my list this year. But in actuality, intent and reality were so far removed from each other that continents separated them.

In my defense, work managed to creep up from being 35 to 40 hours of my week to being well over 40 and bordering on 50; leaving me tired and not strong enough to face an evening spent being jostled about in a crowded shopping centre.

The other thing I blame is the weather. In the latter stages of November, Mother Nature decided to make up for her lackadaisical approach to the winter thus far and dumped a tonne of snow followed by turning down the external thermostat to well below seasonal.

To which by body responded, in the way my body will always respond to the extreme misery of winter and attempted to kick into hibernation mode. My brain saying - “wait until it warms up, no need to go out today in this miserable weather” and my body responding with - “Sure, I need the rest, why should we bother expending energy today that we can conserve for another day.”

All of which leads me to sitting here, days before Christmas with no presents bought and feeling wholly unChristmassy.

Maybe when I get home to my parent’s place and see the tree and the decorations; hear the Christmas music and taste my Mum’s Christmas Cake it will feel more like Christmas, but until then I will simultaneously marvel and lament the rapid passage of an entire month, or more, and wonder how the heck did it become Christmastime?

I hope the holidays bring you times to remember and peaceful days with friends and family; for their presence is far more important than presents.

Happy Christmas to one and all!

Not Too Cold for Crazy People

About one week ago I was assaulted on my way home from work. Though “assaulted” seems to be a bit strong a word, it is technically accurate, and since the incident I have felt a bit shaken and I thought blogging might make me feel better about it.

It was Monday afternoon, the weather was miserably cold and on any other day I would have said “No sane person would be walking outside on a day like today”. I decided I was not going to allow the extremely cold weather to stop me from walking outside to the LRT station, it was early enough for it still to be daylight out and at this time of year I need all the daylight I can get. So bundled up to the eyeballs, I walked from work to the LRT station – a short five minute walk outside.

As I was walking on the sidewalk north of the law courts there was a guy walking towards me, I made sure I was walking on the right hand side of the wide sidewalk, as I would always do, to ensure there was enough room for him to pass to the left of me.

As he got closer he stepped over to be walking directly in my path.

I stepped left to get out of his path and then he stepped right to block my path again.

Not wanting to play his game I stopped altogether, thinking he’d just walk past.

He advanced directly towards me and I put my arms up in front of me, fists formed, elbows bent as if I was trying to hide (or protect) my chest, to stop him from getting too close.

He advanced until his chest was touching my fists. He then stopped, gave me a look as if to say “figured you do that”.

Undoubtedly by then I had a “what the heck are you up to” look on my face. Neither of us spoke.

Then he stepped to the side and began to walk away.

I watched him as he walked past and as he did, he turned his head spat at my face. Lucky for me (yes, I feel soo lucky *dripping with sarcasm*) he missed my face and hit my toque.

Then he walked off and I yelled after him that I should have him arrested for assault.

It was weird, up until he spat at me I thought it was some strange University social behaviour experiment – how do strangers react to having their personal space invaded. He looked like a normal guy, university age (or mid 20s). So strange!

Originally I was annoyed and dumbfounded but now my brain has decided to spend more time processing it and has seen fit to send me “worst case scenarios” thoughts and now I’m just plain shaken.

One part of my brain keeps saying, “Wow! That could have been a lot worse. He could have hit you, or knocked you down, or worse…” While another keeps asking, “What could I have done differently? How could I have avoided the guy? Should I have kept walking? Should I have said something to him sooner? Should I have socked him one after he spit on me? Am I properly equipped to defend myself? Am I safe?”

Since the incident I have been hyper-vigilant when I walk to or from work, making sure, well in advance, that people coming towards me are not showing any signs of a “collision course” even going so far as to not walk a straight path to avoid any chance of it happening. I also have become very suspicious of all people I encounter on my way home whether walking or on the LRT. I know eventually the paranoia and hyper vigilance will subside, as the aftermath to any traumatic situation does – eventually.

But until it does, I guess I have to put up with my own heightened sensitivity and percolating paranoia and accept that I feel a bit like a victim right now. Oh, yes, and I’m looking into taking self defense courses and hoping to project the attitude - “don’t mess with me”.

I'll Bring the Matches

About two months ago I began writing a blog post that I never finished and later deleted.

I do that some times; thoughts enter my head; I hear or think of a turn of phrase I like; someone says something that inspires me; all these things trigger the birth of a blog post. Sometimes they don't go further than a couple of lines "jotted down" in draft on Blogger, sometimes (especially if it's just a phrase) it just rattles around in my brain until it manages to fall out somewhere along the path.

That aside, about two months ago I began writing a blog post about feeling like I had just brought matches to a witch hunt. The thought appealed to me, partly because there was an uncharitable part of me that wanted the witch hunt to be successful, then there was the part of me that felt guilty for feeling like I had brought the matches to a witch hunt and part of me that just liked the phrase.

You see, for several months, I have had to put up with a useless ineffectual and disinterested co-worker (who I will refer to as Mr. Bottleneck) whose shoddy work and unreliable attendance had driven me close to wanting to either smack him up side the head or quit – neither action would be very positive or productive. So I did the only thing I could do, I complained to my Project Manager. And when she went on holidays and Mr. Bottleneck’s behaviour got worse, I complained to her stand-ins.

Then one day, I got called into the office of my PMs boss and asked about Mr. Bottleneck’s behaviour and actions to which I responded honestly and bluntly – unfortunately diplomacy is not my strong suit. I was a little alarmed to discover that Mr. Bottleneck had managed to piss of my PM’s boss (who is an ex RCMP officer and a man I would hope NEVER to piss off) and when my PM’s boss talked about Mr. Bottleneck he looked as if a vein in his neck was about to burst forth and take on a life of it’s own.

I left that meeting feeling guilty that I had been so blunt, feeling like I had brought matches to a witch hunt. But truthfully, if I brought the matches, Mr. Bottleneck had brought all the kindling and bonfire material. His actions, or inactions, or combination of both had lead to a level of lack of faith in his abilities that was hard to surmount.

Fortunately, or unfortunately – I’m honestly not sure which – he wasn’t sacked in October and his contract (which was to end at the end of December but was in the process of being extended until the end of February) was allowed to play itself out – with more absences and shoddy work and a growing sense of resentment on my part.

So I was very happy to hear that Mr. Bottleneck didn’t want to extend his contract into 2010 and that he would prefer to end it as soon as possible – not soon enough in my books, Mr. B.

So, instead of singing Christmas carols I’ve been humming “Ding! Dong! The Witch is Dead!” and see his departure as an early Christmas gift.

If you’d had more scruples Mr. B, you would have left months ago, saved me a lot of aggravation, since I was doing your job and mine for so long anyway, I would have preferred it – then I wouldn’t have bothered expending any energy expecting you to do anything and expending more energy fixing what you didn’t do correctly in the first place. I don’t like the phrase “Shit or get off the pot”, it’s a bit crass, but sometimes crass works. In my opinion, Mr. B, should have either quit when he first started hating the job (back in July, he told me as much) or just accept your responsibilities, “suck it up” (another phrase I don’t like) and just do the job you were hired to do. But instead he pissed about for six months wasting time and money in the process.

having said all that I would like to say Thank-you Mr. Bottleneck. Thank you for the opportunity you unwittingly gave me to shine as a go-to-gal that gets the job done quickly and correctly. Mr. Bottleneck, you will not be missed.