A year ago, when I was 29 and just shy of my 30th birthday, I didn’t expect that I’d start the new year off almost virtually rock bottom. After roughly two weeks off from work over the holidays, I went back to work at a job that had heightened my anxiety over the course of the year, but I went back with a positive outlook to turn things around and convince myself that it would be okay. That lasted until I was fired just three days after coming back from holidays, and thus catapulted Jocelyn’s Sinking Ship.
I spent a month unemployed, my first time ever as an adult, which was also my first time being fired from a job in the field I was working in; I was mortified of the possibility of still being unemployed by the time my 30th birthday rolled around in late February, but I accepted the first job I was offered and started exactly two weeks before the big Three-Oh. I honestly don’t know what I was more relieved about, though: the fact that I’d gotten a job, or that I’d gotten it before I turned 30.
Continue reading “everybody put your best suit or dress on.”
I was watching TV one night recently and, as the holidays are nearing, commercials are littered with gift ideas and other holiday themes. For some reason, the channel I was watching threw a commercial for Barbies into the mix (no, I wasn’t watching a kid’s channel), and it dawned on me that I hadn’t seen commercials for children’s toys in a very long time. Not having kids will do that, I guess.
Anyway, it dawned on me that, as a girl, while I didn’t dislike girl toys, like barbies — I had my fair share of them, believe-you me– or the Easy Bake Oven — I think I actually had two of those, but I got much more excited over toy cars (Hot Wheels), LEGO, G.I. Joes, He-Man toys, almost more than anything.
Which brings me to the red fire truck — my most prized-possession as a child. Continue reading “The red fire truck.”
I’m never going to finish school. I’ll be here ’till I’m 30.”
I wrote this in an online journal entry on March 11, 2005, which was almost ten years ago and, clearly, the idea of being at school until the age of 30 was the Worst Thing Ever to a then 21-year old me.
Well, 21-year-old Jocelyn, the joke is on you, my friend.
Continue reading “Years teach us patience.”
It’s been a long time since I’ve been made to feel insecure by other women, but recently it happened and it’s stupid and silly and I need to talk about it.
First, let me tell you something. I love the colour red: I have (unnatural) red hair. I wear red lipstick. I have a red purse. I have a red toque, numerous red scarves, assorted red clothing, red tights, red nail polish. It’s endless and it’s the one colour that I feel the most confident in. I don’t wear it, or red lipstick, to mask some sort of insecurity — it’s quite the opposite, really — I just feel like it brings out some level of confidence in me that I already had, it just needed something to show the way. The colour is ‘me’, and so many people I know associate me with it. I love that.
Continue reading “Never be bullied into silence.”
I made it six weeks into the journalism program before I cried, doubted my abilities and heavily considered if I’m really cut out for this.
I’ve written two midterm exams this week — one in my Media & Society class, the other in my Political Science class. I felt okay after the Media and Society midterm, which entailed reviewing a journalism article and whether it was considered ‘good’ or ‘bad’ journalism, together with 3 short answer questions we had to write. After discussing the contents of the exam today in class, my confidence level dropped. I completely misinterpreted how I was supposed to write the essay in response to the article, and maybe did half okay-ish on the short answer questions. This discussion came after the poli sci midterm, which I also do not feel very confident about.
So, I broke down.
Continue reading “Even the best fall down sometimes.”
This is the kind of post I need to write for no one other than myself because maybe it will make me feel better, I don’t know.
I am panicking.
Continue reading “There’s nothing here to run from.”
The other day, I took a different route home from school and stopped to pet a cat that was outside before I carried on my way (I make a point of ‘making friends’ with any cat I see in my neighbourhood, or otherwise. I am not too selective or picky about where I make my cat friends). I didn’t realise the cat’s owner was also outside, so she came over to me and we started chatting. Naturally, I asked what the cat’s name was (Mama Cat it was, I believe), and we bonded over our love of cats.
It wasn’t long until she asked what I did. I told her I’m a journalism student, and she almost got defensive, saying something along the lines of how I was going down that path (whatever that means), and asked what I want to do when I’m done. I didn’t quite get a chance to respond before she said “well you’re cute enough to be in the media, just saying!”
Continue reading “I always hated the part when I had to look pretty.”