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Good Intent

 Lately I’ve been thinking a lot about the concept of good intent. As a general rule, we enter situations and relationships with the best intentions. We want to grow or have fun or learn or bond. Rarely (I hope) do we enter into something with the aim of damaging ourselves or others. And while this is important and necessary, having good intentions does not excuse us from the outcome of our actions. Sometimes we move forward with positive focus and intent and end up hurt or hurting someone. It’s rarely on purpose but it still happens. And, intentions aside, responsibility must be taken there.

So often we hear “I never meant to hurt them” or “I would never put you at risk.” Of course you feel that way. Of course you had the best intentions. If you had bad ones, then you suck and that’s a whole other conversation. But of course you didn’t waltz in and decide to wreak havoc. You made the best decisions you could at the time and sometimes that ends up hurting in the long run. But your intentions aren’t the point. The outcome is the endgame.

We’re all afraid. And, as humans, we’re all just a huge source of emotional and intellectual liability to one another. All relationships have the potential to hurt and harm because they also have the potential to grow and nourish. Nothing ventured, nothing gained and it is important to move forward even though we’re a little scared of what someone else might do to us.

Good intentions are good. But, as always, actions speak far louder and your motives do not excuse you from the consequences of your behaviour. Continue to strive to do good and continue to take a good hard look at the outcome.

I don’t care that you didn’t mean to and, quite frankly, after a while I don’t really care that you’re sorry. You did anyway. That’s the issue.

- K

“Good Intent” – Kimbra

Part of the Problem

Over the weekend I was at a barbeque. It was great and there was much food and drink and merriment. Later in the evening, after more than a few beverages were consumed, I sat adjacent to a conversation I could hardly believe was taking place in 2014 amongst two young women. It started like this:

Person A: “I just don’t like working with other women, you know?”

Person B: “OMG yeah! It’s just, like, too much drama. They’re so catty and crazy.”

Person A: “Totally. I would just really rather spend time with guys. There’s just so much less…”

Person B: “Drama! Right? I wouldn’t ever want a female boss again either.”

Person A: “Just a recipe for disaster. I hate working with women.”

And I’m sitting there like, are you out of your fucking mind?

“I don’t like working with other women”? So, literally half the population of the entire world would be an undesirable coworker for you? That’s 3.5 billion people that you know without a doubt are “catty” and “crazy” and “dramatic” and therefore horrible to work with? Must be their hormones acting up… She’s probably on her period… And please note note that this conversation was conducted between two women. But they’re probably “not like other girls” so that’s okay.

Ranting aside, it’s this type of genderist remark and its general acceptance among all those listening that is the problem. At the risk of discussing the toolkit of subjugation utilized by our patriarchal society to maintain the status quo, just, like, don’t.

Don’t tell me that all of your experiences working with the female gender have been unfortunate.

Don’t use this to bond with other women and demonstrate to the men around you that you’re different or special by bashing half of the people on the planet.

Don’t act as though what you’re saying isn’t both a reinforcement and a product of a genderist culture. It has impact and not a good one.

Don’t pretend that what you’re saying is any different than “I don’t like eating near with Jewish people” or “I don’t like taking public transit with African Americans.”

Some people are shitty to work with – gender, ethnicity, sexual orientation, whatever aside. And if you’ve created the kind of culture and environment where it’s okay to bash a colleague and write off their behaviour because they’re a chick, it probably does suck to work there. But let me assure you it doesn’t have anything to do with the number of vaginas in the office. It has to do with you

And finally, let’s just note that in each of your experiences working with or relating to any group, there is one common denominator: you. Ever considered that may be part of the problem?

 – K

Bad jobs are like bad boyfriends

NOTE: For the purposes of this post, I’m using the term “boyfriends” because it alliterates and I dig that. That said, we pride ourselves around here on being inclusive and not acting like assholes so please feel free to substitute the term “boyfriend” with your word of choice – partner, friend, girlfriend, etc. Additionally, the sentiments expressed here are not limited to romantic relationships or paid gigs. Disclaimer over.

Bad jobs are like bad boyfriends because while they’re yours, you never really know whether you’re coming or going and you always feel a little unsure about the whole damn thing.

Bad jobs are like bad boyfriends because they’re usually good just often enough to stop you from taking initiative for a while.

Bad jobs are like bad boyfriends because they leave you less convinced about yourself and your worth than when you started out.

Bad jobs are like bad boyfriends because you didn’t even know how off they were until you’ve got some distance and even then it takes some time to really let that sink in.

Bad jobs are like bad boyfriends because you look back and think,  “How and why did I put up with THAT shit for so long?” followed by, “Why didn’t any of you tell me I was putting up with this shit?” The truth about both hurt, my friend.

Bad jobs are like bad boyfriends because you secretly know that even if someone did tell you, you needed to figure it out on your own anyway.

Bad jobs are like bad boyfriends because even after you leave you bring oddly shaped baggage that you didn’t even know you had with you to the next one.

Bad jobs are like bad boyfriends because unpacking that baggage is both easier and more difficult than you’d think but always worth it.

Bad jobs are like bad boyfriends because once you’ve had one, you know better. Hopefully.

- K

11 Reasons My Car is the Perfect Man

  1. He keeps my bum warm.
  2. He reminds me to wear my seat belt — because he cares about my safety.
  3. He warns me if the roads are icy.
  4. He lets me play music as loud as I like and never gets mad if I want to listen to the same song over and over.
  5. He loves it when I sing. (Or maybe just never complains. But isn’t that basically the same thing?)
  6. He picks up right where we left off.
  7. He cleans up nice.
  8. He makes room for my friends.
  9. He communicates his needs effectively and efficiently without being abrasive.
  10. He takes me out but understands when I want to stay in.
  11. He listens, really listens, and never offers unsolicited advice.

Blogosphere, meet Frankie. He’s the only one for me. - K

Frankie

Me and him. Him and me.

 

Good enough is not enough

Preface this all by saying that the way I came about this little actualization is probably going to sound a little stupid to you. And that’s just fine.

I got my hair cut last weekend. I’ve been going to the same stylist for about a year now. She’s great at what she does and I dig her – not only because she sometimes puts Baileys in my coffee.

She put some highlights in my hair and they all looked great except for a piece that’s almost white-blonde right in the front. Just wasn’t quite, you know? It was kind of streaky and that shit isn’t free and platinum blonde doesn’t suit me and I don’t need to explain why I didn’t like it because it’s my head and I just didn’t.

Hair is a little thing. So is not getting what you ordered at a restaurant. But I think that recognizing when those little things matter to you and then making adjustments allows you to do the same for the big things. Like moving on from your dissatisfying job or speaking up when someone treats you poorly.

To make healthy compromises with another human (or animate creature) is to cultivate a positive, lasting relationship. It is to establish rapport and cultivate the understanding that the world does not, in fact, revolve around you. That’s good. Those things make sense. Compromising yourself or the things that matter to you is not. When things matter to you and there’s something you can do about it, you should. You kind of need to. And especially with the little things because if you allow yourself to settle for less over shit like highlights, how are you going to take a stand when something actually matters? (Note: Not to say that you should make a big stink about every little thing that isn’t quite right. Rather, when you have the ability to take the extra step or make something a little better, you ought to take it.)

So, anyway, I went back and she fixed in seven minutes and now I couldn’t be happier. It’s little, but it mattered to me and there was something I could do about it. So I did.

Good enough is never good enough because good enough is not enough.

- K

“That’s what the present is. It’s a little unsatisfying because life’s a little unsatisfying.”

And that’s okay.

This is my brain on yoga

Inside my head before yoga: 

You know, I know I said I’d go to class and that I was looking forward to it and Saturday’s was great and stuff but I don’t feel like it. It’s been a long day. I’m tired. My hip flexors are weirdly sore. And I’m just not into it. I work hard! I totally deserve a break. I’ll go tomorrow.

Ugh. No. NO. I paid way too much for this unlimited class pass bullshit. I can’t not go. Seriously why is yoga so damn expensive anyway? It’s like Canadian airlines where they just band together and jack up prices so that we basically BEGGAR ourselves to go to these classes (or other cities) so I can feel all soulful and bendy after. Jesus. Okay. I’m going.

WHY IS EVERYBODY ON THE ROAD GOING TEN KM UNDER THE SPEED LIMIT? Seriously people, it may be rush hour but that doesn’t mean you get to drive like my grandmother. She isn’t even allowed on the road anymore. Ohmygod. Everybody is stupid but me. 

Shit. That trendy, super flexible girl is here. I knew she would be. In her great, slightly colour-coordinated, oh-I-just-wake-up-like-this-outfit. Annnnd she’s putting her mat next to mine. Awesome.

Is it savasana yet?

 

Inside my head after yoga: 

Okay, that? Was awesome. I can’t believe I wasn’t going to come!

Would it be weird to hug my instructor? Maybe a little. I’ll just, like, say it was a great class or something. Ahhh I love this yoga mat; it’s just so comfortable and homey, you know? And these leggings! I swear I’m more flexible in leggings.

And beautiful, bendy girl complimented my headstand! Dope! You too. So good. Seriously, your practice is inspiring.

I should go home and make some soup to take for lunch this week and maybe some of those dairy-free, sugar-free, gluten-free homemade power bars I pinned the other day oooooo and a smoothie! I love smoothies. That would be the best snack after yoga!

Ahh. Great class everyone! See you tomorrow! And the day after that! And the day after that. Namaste!

K

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