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Date Yourself.

19 Nov
Drake Minibus, Kigali

Drake Minibus, Kigali (Photo credit: AdamCohn)

It has become apparent to me, over time that many people don’t think too positively about themselves. duh.

Even Marylin Monroe had negative thoughts. Even Gregory Peck. Justin Timberlake has negative thoughts and so does Drake. So does Barack Obama; so does Stephen Harper. Do not ask me why I picked these names, they simply popped in my head.

We’re insecure. We have low opinions about ourselves. A friend of mine said: “It’s not an attractive quality.” Ok got it. Another friend of mine said that I let people see it. Oops. At least these friends are honest with me.

Didn’t realize there was a stigma on being open. But sadly there is, people judge by what they see and hear from you. Can you catch me while I’m thinking negative thoughts? Nope. But when I voice them; yes you can.

Mental  note: Keep feelings/thoughts to myself.

We continually, measure ourselves to an arbitrary standard. Everyone does it, but it’s whether you notice it or not is the difference.

Your opinion affects me. Everyone’s opinion affects me. But especially those of the people who love me most.

Only because of my insecurities.

My human need and want to please. If I’m not making you happy, than why on earth would I do what I did? Why else would I challenge myself?

For my own gain; to impress myself? No. It’s to impress you, to impress the world. To “stick it” and shout; “Yeah I’ve completed that challenge. What next?” For my own happiness? Perhaps I benefit, but really truly I gain nothing if you aren’t or the world isn’t impressed.

Many people feel the same way.

Some people know, others have heard. Why not make it public? I am an insecure person. BUT who isn’t? The difference here being…I let people see it. Oops. Perhaps I should hide myself a little more from what people see. I used to be really good at that. Maybe I reverted to the opposite extreme.

Where on earth is the middle ground? Did a little bit of research.

There is a significant lack of self-acceptance in our lives. 

We insecure beings have aspects in our lives that will never be good enough. For example, if I think I’m not physically attractive, that will be the hole through which my insecurity flows.

Negativity. It becomes the worst ruler of how you see yourself.  We attempt to hide these faults, but they soon begin to eat away at our perceived confidence.  Soon the person that we’ve built ourselves to be, comes crashing down and we are rubble.

I met a fellow who literally apologized for everything he did. His name was Karl. I could not stand him. Only because I saw qualities in him that reminded me…of who? Myself.

Yeah and he was frustrating. Only because he was quite awesome and didn’t need affirmation. So why should he always apologize?  I mean he was wonderful, why apologize? He was desperate, but he didn’t need to be.

If you’re reading this, you should then infer that I know; I am pretty great. Yup. I am very awesome. And I know it. No doubt about it.

BUT more importantly. So are you. How to make ourselves realize this?

Okay so here is what you and I must do. Let’s work together on this.

Accept ourselves.

Believe and see our weaknesses as aspects that are beneficial to who we are. We are specific, and our weaknesses are what make us human. We are not going forgetting about those things, actually our vulnerability is what makes us beautiful. Are you open about your faults? Good.

Reform it.

Stop it.

Stop thinking those negative thoughts. They’ll not help you. You already know how lovely you are; let’s start from there. Now, put what you see in a positive light.

Make peace with your demons. List everything that has been a deep insecurity, look at each one, work on accepting them and simply come to terms with them. It’ll be hard. But nothing worth doing in life was easy. Am I right or am I right?

We’ll do it together. Arrive at what are our limitations, treat them as attributes and move on. That is all we can do as humans.

Confused? Ok I’ll break it down into one simple sentence:

Get to know yourself first.

Note: I’ll come back and edit this when I’m not sooo tired.

Men from Back Then

6 Oct

First off, how about my title? Great isn’t? A real zinger. It even rhymes.

Moving Along

Stemming simply from watching the Presidential Debate two nights ago,  I began to think about my guy. I hadn’t given him much thought at all lately. Perhaps it’s time I paid him a little attention. Okay let’s be superficial. Or how about you read my superficial post. Sound good? Wonderful because, I really want to just reminisce about men from the past.


Don’t you wish men still held doors open, or pulled out our chairs at the table? You might say “No, that would be too awkward.” That is simply because you’ve grown accustomed to the opposite of a gentleman. You’re not used to chivalry and so when it’s offered to you…you automatically decline. I know I would too. But as I said, we’re not used to chivalrous fellows.

I know some women will say, “I can do things for myself. Who needs a man to hold open a door?” No one is forcing you to give up your job, bank account, or independence. I’m not saying to give up on the feminist parade. No. I am merely suggesting that when courtesies and manners are shown, we stop to appreciate them. After all wouldn’t it strengthen women to allow ourselves to enjoy these things. It takes a strong person to be humble.

Can of Worms

It’s easy to say we don’t need a gentlemen, because everyone else is shouting it at the top of their lungs. It’s difficult to say we need them. It hurts our pride. Who ever wanted to admit they needed someone? Nobody. A stronger, more confident woman would accept chivalry  because she knows she is independent without having to announce it.

Picking up what I’m laying down? Basically I’m saying the gentleman has disappeared and wouldn’t it be nice if they returned? But also if a man does offer his arm, wouldn’t be nice to accept it without having to constantly assert our independence.

Done. Can of worms closed. Now…

Whom Can’t I resist?

I’ll give it to you straight.

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A bit of a rebellious, an outside the box type. A little like James Dean.

Dapper, chivalrous; in other words a gentleman. For example: Cary Grant.

Agile and quirky, like graceful Gene Kelly.

Witty, intelligent, a petit sarcastic. Maybe he isn’t the most attractive of men, but William Powell wins with his clever speak and fearless composure.

With a smile and blue eyes, with a talking lilt and confidence like our Paul Newman.

Tall, funny, gracious, happy. A joker. A lot like Jimmy Stewart.

Now let’s combine these factors together, to create one great chivalrous, witty and handsome gentleman. Think for a moment and consider have you seen such a fellow strolling the streets of your life? Probably not. He’s been extinct for so many years. Chivalry is for dinosaurs and manners have become fossilized.

All of this to say it’s amazing what the Presidential Debate can bring to light. Many now consider where to cast their vote. Some have changed opinions, some have remained steadfast. I?


I have discovered the type of fellow who has long since disappeared. I have rediscovered the gentleman. And ladies, (all of you who are reading) I think it’s time you rediscovered him too.

As it Happens

26 Sep
2nd third of 17th century

Perhaps I envision myself like this lovely lady…btw, what is her name?

Got to thinking the other day about why I feel the need to write my thoughts and feelings down online for whoever would wish to read my words. There was silence in my brain. Not just any silence really. A deafening silence.

I mean everyone. Or almost everyone writes a blog or aspires to write a novel of some sort. So what on earth separates one from another? Content. Style. Media. If you don’t reach the right combination then what are you doing? Throwing random words up there for no one to read.

And it isn’t as if one person has something to write while another doesn’t. Simply because everybody hurts. Everybody harbours pain in their lives. Everyone is beautiful in their “broken”ness and everyone is writing about it in their blogs, online, for the world to see if the world wishes to.  And what happens when we (everybody) throw up our words? Nothing, we wait, and nothing happens. And maybe someone is “discovered” labeled a “talent” and their lives move on from simply blogging.

And we, everybody else, we continue to blog. Which is great! Go us! I say let’s continue it. Why not? It really isn’t a waste of time. In fact its a constructive use of time. Well at least I believe it is. So keep it up, you intrepid blogger you. Kudos, high-five!

Just because everybody feels pain, it doesn’t lessen yours. You still have the right to feel. So write. Write young grasshopper, write.

Why is it that I feel the need to write things down, post some photos, and maybe a few videos here and there?

  • Is it for the fame? Am I secretly hoping that some big shot will read it. Think ,”Hey, this Tricia girl, she’s great…blah blah blah.” Haha. Yes, of course I think perhaps that could happen. Oh man I can only hope for that to happen, it is a dream. Something that would only ever happen in the movies. But as it happens there isn’t any fame associated with blogging. None. But I’m still going to write.
  • Is it for the practice? Yeah, I guess so. What writer, blogger, or whatever wouldn’t relish the chance to hone their skills? But as it happens, you will not find to best literary prose. Not every blog, but in general.
  • Is it for the readership? Oh man, to develop a following of readers who think that my writing is the be all and end all. Or not even that, for them to think that my words are something of an insight into something that helps them see just a small glimpse into how I see and understand life. But as it happens every human being is a philosopher and psychologist by their own standards.
  • Is it an outlet? But of course it is! I sometimes find that when I’m very angry, happy, depressed, ecstatic or frustrated, I write the best posts. I use it as a venting machine. Other times its simply a way of updating people who care to read.
  • …I really don’t know. Just something to do? Yep, and you know I am going to continue this “theme-less” blog of mine  until my fingers fall off my hands. And even then I’ll find a way.

What is oh so special about MY blog?

  • Nothing is particular actually. My mother and father would beg to differ. But then they’re my mother and father…they have to beg to differ.
  • I’m honest. But then aren’t we all? At least I would desperately like to think humanity is honest. But as it happens, most people seek the chance to rip another person off.
  • I’m quirky. And I come by it honestly. Other people try attempt “quirky”ness. I was born…quirky.
  • I’m decisive.
  • I’m random.

But then maybe you’re reading this and thinking…I’m all of the above and more! Well good for you. Great! Take that and soar with it. I hope you go far! But as it happens, I’ve come to find that some simply look at my blog and like it in the hopes that they would increase their readership. And of course I’ll “like” yours if you “like” mine. Isn’t that how it works? Of course. Yeah it may seem pointless, maybe it is, but who cares! Write, blog, share and let it all out. Throw your words up there.

Are you sensing that I’m sending mixed messages?

It’s only because I’m trying to convince myself too.

All Over

20 Sep
A coffee and doughnut at a Tim Hortons outlet ...

A coffee and doughnut at a Tim Hortons outlet on Yonge Street, Toronto, Canada. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

First of all I just want to warn you that this post will seem a little disjointed.

Back in the Canada for a couple of weeks, just drinking my Tim Hortons, filling up on donuts, pouring maple syrup on everything and chatting up some RCMP. Nah, just kidding.

I guess I could have also said watched some hockey in there, but the season has been cancelled here, so…all of my fellow Canadians are grasping at straws saying “What will we obsess about now?”

I don’t know.

The real point of this post is not to think about stereotypical Canadian mannerisms or food. But rather it is an ode to what I call “giving over.”

“Ah yes of course!” you say and then look at me in a quizzical way.

Let me paint you a picture. The overarching fact here is that I’m an adult, I’m 23, I’ve been living abroad for the past year and a couple of months, I have a well-paying job and I have my apartment. Yes, good for me.All of that disappears when I come home. I become my parent’s daughter and my older sister’s little sister. Its like stress never really existed for me, they take care of all my needs. It’s wonderful to a certain extent.

Yesterday I needed to hand in my passport to the Chinese Visa Office to acquire my Visa to return to our China. Instead of being able to drive myself into the big city, I need my father to drive me. Because I don’t know where it is. I have to hand over my independence and accept that this is the way it is. If I were living here it would be different. But I don’t. Talk about a step down off the ladder of pride. It’s good for me though I think. Independence can be overrated.

So anyways on the drive down to get my visa photos taken, my father turns to me and says, “Do you know how to smile with your eyes?” I hadn’t thought about that. Because you see in Canada we are not allowed to smile for passport, visa photos, photos of any kind that will end up on a document for official use.

“No I hadn’t thought of that,” I tried and failed miserably. I guess I’m just good smiling with my mouth.

“How about your nose?” He asks.

I try. But the result is just my wrinkling it and I look as if I’ve smelt rotten cheese. “Nope, can’t do it.”

My point is this. Pride is wonderful in that it gives you the confidence to do what you want. But sometimes you reach moments in life where pride will make you stumble. And when your ego does take a tumble, take a moment and try to smile with your eyes. If you can do that, then try to smile with your nose.

If you can do both, give me a call I want to know your secret.

A Penny for Your Thoughts…

6 Aug
The Guilt Trip

The Guilt Trip (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

For someone to be a writer of some sorts it’s good for them to at least attempt to write every once in a while. Am I right or am I right?

Lately I’ve been so caught up in the mistakes that I’ve made, on the ones that I’m continually making. I don’t know if others are plagued by an overwhelming sense of guilt. I’m sure there are. Maybe it’s you, the reader. Maybe the other people out there who suffer from guilt won’t admit it as readily as I do. Well the first step in healing is admitting that there is a problem…am I right or am I right?

Maybe there’s shame in admitting that I feel guilty. Maybe there’s shame in admitting that my thoughts are stronger than my will at times and I succumb to…I don’t even know what.

Here I guess is something that helps me get over those guilty thoughts that sometimes keep me from sleeping. I consider my faith, and I think about how there is an overwhelming love that is far greater than my guilty thoughts.

I think about sitting on a swing, much like a carefree little girl and waiting for someone to gently push me. But then I begin to swing back and forth even though I see no one behind me…time passes and I’m baffled as to who could be moving me and how this could be. After a while I give up looking and just enjoy the moments.

And in one particular instant I tilt my head back, i have a huge smile on my lips. And in that one particular instant I catch a glimpse of a hand holding the strings of my swing. I don’t need too much time to realize where the hand has come from. It’s been there all along, I just had given up looking.


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