"Cog-mitive Ther-py" or Keepin' It Real

My last blog post didn't get the reception I wanted. First of all, nobody read it (other than my mom). Second of all, those who did read it (my mom) said they were concerned because my last few blog posts make me sound depressed, lonely and slightly pathetic, instead of revealing my positive, loving, bubbly, amazing, wonderful, fantastic personality. Ahem, sorry, I got a little carried away there. Well mom, I have some unfortunate news for you... I AM depressed, lonely and slightly pathetic. I am also positive, loving and bubbly (we'll stop there). Enter the world of a happy depressive. What a dichotomy I am! Just imagine the war going on in my personality every day, a fierce battle of good versus evil! It goes something like this, "Remember, just be positive." And then, "But I don't wanna!" It's really sophisticated. The problem is, what I choose to write about is usually issues I am dealing with that I know other people are too, in the hopes that together we don't feel so alone. It often requires me to dig deep into my depressed, lonely and slightly pathetic bucket of sorrows.

So as a nice change, I'm going to try writing about happy things only...

Puppies are nice. I like them. They lick me and I don't mind. Other people are like, "Hey, stop licking me, that's gross!" but I'm like, "Hey, thanks! That's a little bit gross but mostly cute and I like it." So that's nice. Puppies will love you even if you feel unlovable. Puppies were actually the first hippies and started the hippy movement in the 60's but they are so under-represented that they never got the credit they deserve.

Kittens are also nice... sometimes. But they have these little claws that are like razor-needle-scissors and they won't hesitate to use them no matter how much you love them. They are not very particular in who they use them on either (in whom they use them on? On whom they use them on? Who they use what on? Who's using what, now? How? Why? Let's move on). They will scratch your eyes out if they want. But don't let it hurt your feelings because they don't mean it, even if you know they secretly laugh behind your back about it.

Also, I love babies. My brother had one, which was really nice of him, cause of how much he knows I love babies. His name is Ewan, like "you-won" (which we did), not like "E-won" which is cool because it sounds like something from Star Wars, but unfortunately not his name. God made Ewan extra-special cute (I'm not kidding, he is extra-special cute) just to make me happy because He knows I can get depressed, lonely and slightly pathetic sometimes. So gee, thanks. I like him. I like him a lot. All I want to do is visit him so I can squish him and be as physically close to him as I possibly can. Some day my nephew is going to sing to me, "Don't stand so, don't stand so, don't stand so close to me," but in the mean time he can't talk. He can't even get away. He physically isn't even capable of crawling himself to safety. He is mine, all mine, MWAHAHAHAHA! Actually he's my brother and sister-in-law's, but you get the idea. I'm quite attached. Being an aunt is amazing because you can finally kiss a baby as much as you want without feeling like any minute now the mom is going to charge you with molesting their child.

I also like ice-cream but I'm allergic. I found out I'm even allergic to goat's milk ice-cream, so that little victory of finding a delicious alternative to real ice-cream died about as quickly as a fading star AKA a fiery ball of gas (like me when I eat it). Turns out I'm not lactose-intolerant to cow's milk (the allergy I have to dairy is like a hay fever allergy), instead I'm lactose-intolerant to goat's milk. It's like when I found out at an early age that I'm not just allergic to the milk in chocolate - my favourite food on the planet (is chocolate a food? Or is candy a separate category? What if the chocolate has almonds in it? Then does it count? So many questions...) - I'm also allergic to the very cocoa itself. And wheat. And potatoes. And rice. I would die in Italy, Ireland and China. Some people might think God hates me... Oh gosh I never thought about it that way...

This happy-writing thing isn't working.

You see, I could write about only happy things, but writing about only happy things gets boring after a while and usually doesn't do a lot of good. I mean, if you really want me to, I could write about my nephew for a very, very long time. For instance, he likes to growl like a little bear, all the time, and sometimes, if you're lucky, he makes pterodactyl sounds which is just really cool of him, also really smart considering he's only seven months old. Cause, like, how does he even know what a pterodactyl sounds like? I mean sure, nobody does, cause they're prehistoric creatures and all, but the point is he is pretty much a paleontologist. He even flaps his chubby little arms around a lot like he is preparing to fly, and I just don't have the heart to break it to him yet that this will never happen. He will never fly. That kind of news can really mess up a kid's dreams of being a pterodactyl. Also, the spelling.

But I suppose happy things do make us feel better, and positive thinking is incredibly important to making positive changes. It's called Cognitive Therapy, say it with me now, "Cog-mitive Ther-py," and my mom loves to tell me about it. Maybe, for once I should listen to her. She is usually right. Someone with depression will automatically think negative thoughts and their view of the world can become so distorted that they don't even recognize the truth when it stares them in the face. It can affect their very memories, so that a depressed person remembers events differently - as negatively impacting them even if it was them who negatively impacted others. Scary. But there is a solution! Cognitive Therapy was created by a woman named Judith Beck. She said, "It's not the power of positive thinking. It's the power of realistic thinking. People find that when they think more realistically, they usually feel better." And let's face it, nobody wants to be around a negative person. We all have these people in our lives and we try hard to avoid them. It goes like this:

Negative Nancy: "Ugh, I had such a bad day. Everyone was so annoying at work. One lady told me all about her daughter's conjunctivitis, and I'm like shut up. So wanna hang out?"
Positive Pearl: "Sorry I'm actually kind of busy."
Nancy: "Of course you are, you're always busy! Nobody takes the time to do real things anymore, probably because they're addicted to their phones. I can't stand people who are always on their phones! I mean get a life!"
Pearl: "Yeah, I hear you. Maybe Mediocre Melissa is free. She's a nice girl."
Nancy: "Seriously? She's the worst. Oh man even talking about her gave me a headache. Do you have Tylenol?"
Pearl: "Sorry no."
Nancy: "Ugh, of course not. I think I'm getting a cold. It's probably a virus. It's probably conjunctivitis from that lady's daughter. She probably passed it on to me as the spit particles from her annoying conversation floated on the air particles to my mouth. Ew. Gross. I hate air particles. I hate breathing other people's air. Especially on buses. That's why I will never take the bus. My mom could be dying and I would not even take the bus to go see her in the hospital. So what are you doing this weekend?"
Pearl: "Oh... things. You know. Maybe go for a run."
Nancy: "I HATE running. I don't understand people who exercise."
Pearl: "Haha... right. So what about you?"
Nancy: "Let me just check the schedule on my phone. Oh look, nothing. I'll probably just sit on the couch and watch TV by myself because I have no friends. Everyone's too busy for me."
Pearl: "Haha... well, it's been great but... My cat... is... calling me."

Awkward.

And I certainly do not want to be one of those people. But being positive in a legitimately negative situation is just plain obnoxious. It usually goes like this:

Normal Norman: "I have cancer."
Obnoxiously Positive Olivia: "Don't say that! You need to think positively! You are fighting cancer."
NN: "Ok, I'm fighting cancer. I've been meaning to tell you but didn't want to upset you."
OPO: "I'm really sorry but I'm so proud of you for not giving in to it. You know there are lot of naturopathic-herbalistic-hippyistic remedies I can send you. Like asparagus. Just, like, eat five pounds of asparagus a day and your body doesn't know what to do with all this asparagus so it like poops out the cancer cells with the asparagus. It's science. The only downside is you have green poop."
NN: "Can't wait to try that, thanks."
OPO: "Have you tried meditation? Maybe you can think the cancer away."
NN: "I don't think so."
OPO: "See, there's your problem right there."
NN: "Also, my dog died."
OPO: "Maybe you should have fed him more asparagus."
NN: "I hate you. Our friendship is over."
OPO: "That's just the cancer talking."

You don't want to know what Norman said next.

I like that Cognitive Therapy isn't just about being positive, it's about changing your thoughts from negative to realistic, which can be hard to do. Negative thinking usually has a grain of truth in it, but it's exaggerated to the point where the problem seems overwhelming and unsolvable, and instead of working on it, you give up. If you look at something realistically, the problem becomes manageable, whereas if you only think of it positively, you ignore the problem altogether. They've done studies and found cognitive therapy doesn't just help people with situational depression, it can actually work as well as antidepressants, even in severe cases. I would say I was sceptical of these findings, but that would seem negative.

You see children, it is important to be real, not just positive. So here I am, keepin' it real. And life is hard - something I wanted to shout at the dude in front of me in the line-up at Rock the Shores as he said, "Why do people complain so much and say life is so hard. Life is great!" My guess is he still lives at home, his mom still does his laundry, he doesn't have depression, his best friend Norman isn't dying of cancer and he isn't living in poverty, but I could be wrong. Yet as hard as life is, you can't take it too seriously or it gets a big ego and starts sending you lemons, like anybody was ever happy to receive lemons. People say, "When life gives you lemons, make lemonade," as if there were any other options. You can't get a job with lemons, unless your job is making or selling lemonade, which is not very profitable. You could maybe make lemon squares, but you need other ingredients so let's just hope life throws you some flour and baking powder too. You could try trading lemons for other things, like Pokemon cards, but unless your friend has scurvy he will probably be like, "Why would I ever want lemons?" and he might punch you in the face so be careful. Those are about your only options when it comes to lemons... This has been a great conversation. Let's keep it real again sometime.

Faith'sbook, out.

Accomplishments: My Puny Life

It's my birthday! Or at least it was (the days blur into one another when you are old), and I'm turning quite old. What have I accomplished for myself? Well, not much. I did graduate from university which might actually turn out to be the only acheivement of my life, but I sure as heck hope not, because the main reason I went to university was to write books. And I haven't written any. Or published a single thing for that matter. You might say, why haven't you? And I might say, you know what? Screw you! It's harder than you think. But I wouldn't because I'm nice, and because I don't actually know for myself that it's harder than you think. I just know this information from what other writers have told me again and again and again and again and again. Yes I've submitted a couple things to contests and haven't won any, and one or two stories to magazines but wasn't accepted, but I haven't really put my heart and soul into it. Why you ask? Because it's terrifying to put your heart and soul into something you know has a ten times higher chance of being rejected than accepted. When guys ask out girls they usually calculate their chances and make damn sure the chances are good. If the chances were ten time higher that she will say no than yes, no one would ever ask anyone out. And then no one would get married and the human race would quickly die out (naiive idea of procreation). But, as a seasoned writer (not really, that's some pretty light seasoning, like maybe a dash of curry, the mild kind), aware of the trials of publishing and the hundreds of rejections that you might receive before finally making it big, do I take these rejections to heart? Are you kidding? Of course I do. It's like someone telling you your baby is ugly. Not that I know, I don't have a baby.

That's the other thing, I have no babies. And for years I was positive I would have like seven babies by now. Granted, those years were the same years when 18 seemed mature (ha, as if!), and 25 seemed like middle age (ha, ha... sad...). But I recently discovered I wouldn't want my life to be any other way than it is right now. I realized with great relief that I would be perfectly happy if I didn't have kids for another decade. Let's take one decade at a time, people. Of course, by then my womb will be starting to shrivel up, but my dad's solution to that is: have a baby now, give it to Mom to take care of, and then you have years and years to have more babies (it's the first birth that can cause all the medical problems if you're passed 35. SCIENTIFIC FACT). Now, I don't know why my dad would be stupid enough to suggest this, unless he is secretly planning a divorce, because if I'm giving my mom a baby to raise, well, um, that would mean he would also have a baby to raise. I miss my parents, now that I'm moved out, I do. And I miss my dog Kezzie (she's super old, 17, older than most people think I am when they guess my age). But I am positively loving the independent life. My roommate is fantastic and I couldn't ask for a better place to live. My job is great too. I work for Telus Sourcing Solutions, but I'm under the Alberta Health Services contract, so it's like this: big Telus outsources to India but has its very own customer service company it can't afford to actually hire, so we get hired by other companies to do their customer service. What does this mean? Big Telus may have shoddy customer service but at least they own one of the best customer service companies in Canada, so that's got to count for something. The contract I work for is, like I said, Alberta Health Services. Apparently when Alberta outsources their customer service they go to BC... so we're like Alberta's India... But what's great is the kind of work I get to do: not selling phones or pushing services, but helping medical professionals with their benefits and pay cheques. As one coworker put it, "We help the people who save the world." Or, er, Alberta. But I've never worked for a company that makes their employees feel so respected and valued. Where I work, I matter. It's probably the best thing you can ask for from an employer. See how God has blessed me with the very things I was so concerned about after Auxano? A job and a place to live? Beyond what I asked for or imagined. He does that, God. I mean, not always - sometimes He has things for you to learn and sometimes you're just plain reaping your own consequences, but when He decides to bless you, He always does it extravagantly. Now you're asking, then why aren't I a millionaire? Don't be stupid. We all know by now that money means absolutely nothing. For goodness sake, two seconds ago the penny was a real thing and now it's just pretend.

But it doesn't matter how many books I've written (none) or how many babies I have (also none), I have accomplished a lot. Everything I've learned, everywhere that I've grown (I don't mean like how my chin hair is steadily getting thicker and turning into a beard that is the envy of all the boys, I mean like character growth), all the people I've positively affected, my family and friends, these are my accomplishments. And what greater accomplishment than my relationship with God, which has grown exponentially and will continue to grow exponentially because at some point you learn as a Christian that there is no end to God, and therefore no end to how much you can grow in your relationship with Him. And that is both frightening and wonderful. And so, I don't have to feel a single year was wasted in my - really, let's be serious - puny 26 years of life. Besides, God can return your wasted years. Thankfully, I don't feel He has to. What more could I ask for?

Now what about my writing you ask? Well, I am going to continue to struggle to write the book I know I need to write no matter how ridiculous it is, and I won't let anybody tell me that writing about unicorns is childish. Of course it's childish, you dumb goose, it's a book for children.

A Super Crafty Christmas

I have been busy writing a Christmas story for the Christmas Eve service at my church and I had to kill a lot of babies to get there. Wait, you know I don't mean real babies. Did you even read my last post, Girl Meets Boy Meets Awkward Meets Boy Runs Away? "Kill your babies" is an expression. Sometimes you have to delete parts of a story that you love because a) they just don't fit the story, b) you have a word limit, or c) deep down you know they suck. I'm excited because it will be my first time reading something of my own to a large-er group of people. I'm happy because it's actually a very small group of people and if I make a fool of myself I can threaten them to eternal silence. The story is about one little boy's effort to make his little brother's Christmas wish come true. I often end up writing stories about children, probably because of my immaturity level. Something about seeing things through their eyes makes me happy, and I find I usually care more about stories with children in them. Or romance. If there is not the possibility of romance in the first few chapters of a book, it is 75% more likely that you have lost me. However, I will usually persevere, I'll just be disappointed as I do it before I get so caught up in the story I forget to be disappointed.

Girl Meets Boy Meets Awkward Meets Boy Runs Away

Happy Baby

Everyone knows what it's like to accidentally let it slip that you like someone and then have it get around to the person so that even if there was a slight possibility that they might like you in the future, that bridge is now on fire and if you tried to cross it you would burst into flame and die, that is how low your chances of success are. If, by chance, that person likes you back and finding out you like them just helps it along, then well, way to go, you win. I always like nice guys so if they ever hear that I like them and they don't like me back they are too nice to lead me on and instead AVOID AVOID AVOID! RETREEEAAATTT! And the sad thing is half the time I don't really like them, I just want to be their friend. It goes like this, I see good qualities in a guy, usually because I think they are funny, and instead of saying to someone, "That guy is cool. I should get to know him," I say, "I like him. I think I shall marry him," and then it gets around to him and for some reason he runs away. I get it though. If you actually thought I was a stalker I should hope you would take serious precautions. Sometimes I want to say, "I don't even like YOU, I just like the Jesus in you, don't be so freaking flattered." Because it's true. I see the Jesus in a man and I'm like, "I LOVE him!" which should and will weird a guy out if some girl they barely know is saying she loves you (I don't actually do that, don't worry). All I can say is, I can't help loving Jesus. It just comes naturally to me. But you can't like all the boys all the time, it gets tiring. Believe me, I've tried (Grade 2). But I've always liked to keep my options open for whoever God might happen to bring my way. I am the opposite of picky. I walk around going, "Maybe it's him. Is it him? Could be that guy. Maybe not that guy, but then again, you never know." Hopefully keeping myself open will pay off eventually and I won't be an old lady on my death bed getting a crush on all my doctors and random male janitors who walk by: "Is it that guy? He's still got two hairs on his head. Looks like a winner to me!" Gotta keep hope alive though, right?

Mobster Babies

This is why I wish I had a twin. We would have had the best conversations in the history of the world.



Didn't quite catch that? Here's the translated version by an expert translator.



I believe this particular translation is 99% accurate (I only get my information from the best sources money can buy so you know I can be trusted. Plus, you are always free to check their legitimacy by clicking here).

Baby Politician's Are Better Than Adult Politicians (Video)

This is one of my favorite videos of all time. First time: watch her talk. Second time: read the subtitles along with it. I'm pretty sure I can understand this baby better than Stephen Harper.