When I Grow Up...

Ever since I was a little girl, I loved to write. I could write anything; lines and lines of nonsense would just flow out of me. I could rhyme on the spot. Obviously, not Missy Elliot style, but I had this thing when my pen would hit the paper. It just came out, all of it, in any way I wanted. I always knew I wanted to write. I was a shy kid so I knew I had something to say, but I didn't mind hiding behind my articles or columns in a newspaper or magazine. I had ONE year of architect fever, but once I heard you needed math, that fever broke quickly. I never strayed from writing and it never left me.

Dad asked, "What about business school? What about law school? What about taking engineering or accounting?" Yeah, what about it? My dad and I have different views on the world; well, on my world. He wants me to make money, and I want to be happy. Obviously, I would love to make money and be happy, but very few people have achieved that. I had to really think, would I be okay writing for a living, doing what I love, but living from paycheck to paycheck? How would I feed my family or even raise a family period?

Journalists make no money. I know that. I can't shake it though. There is NOTHING else I want to do in life. There is nothing I love more than researching a story or talking to people about the news. It invigorates me. I love to debate issues and I get a thrill telling someone a story they haven't even heard yet. Okay, sometimes news can be boring and I used to agree. How could I even think about being a journalist when I barely read the newspaper? When I finally cracked open a few sections, I was pretty surprised at the crazy shit that was happening in the world. I follow specific issues from its first appearance in the paper, all the way through the developments, to its conclusion. Sometimes I wonder, why is this NOT on the first page? Or why IS this on the first page?

Okay, anyone can feel like this and not be a journalist. I'm pretty lucky though because I love to dip my hands in anything and be able to learn a little bit about every industry. I like being versatile. Some days I feel like being a corporate writer. Others, I feel like I could be a producer or a broadcaster. A publicist or public relations specialist doesn't sound too bad either. You know what, I don't even mind being a camera person all that much either.

My ideal job though, is to be a magazine editor. That has been my dream for years. I never read the paper because its content was so spread out towards such a huge demographic that I never felt like it was being addressed to me. I want to address issues to people of my age. I would love to inform them about things relevant to them that I have to search through an entire paper to find. How am I going to get to this place?

This is the climax where my big idea comes out. This is where I unveil my master plan to get rich and do what I love for the rest of my life. Well, I have no idea. I have no special strategy tucked under my sleeve. I just plan to be memorable and take every single opportunity I can with every single person I meet and every single event I go to. I'm going to put everything into all I do because I honestly just refuse to do anything else. There is no other option.

I won't settle for less than what I want......This is probably why I'm still single.

Hey God, "Can I Have Yo Numba?"

First, check out my inspiration for the title.

I've been thinking lately how easy it would be to text God and get responses two minutes later. Can you imagine all the Christians in the world who crave God and want Him so bad just like "Darrel" wants this girl? I'm sure we can all fit in His phone. He probably has the updated version of the last cellphone that will ever be invented. It's like an iPhone, BlackBerry and Android all in one.

I've been super stressed lately and when I am, the only thing I can do is pray. My mind is racing with ideas from different ends of the spectrum and the only way to organize them is to say them out loud. I never really look for feedback, just a backboard. The only backboard who is always up as late as I am is God. I say everything and anything like I'm texting Him. For some reason, it's just the best comfort. When it's out of my head and I put it in His hands, it's just gone.

Ever since a trauma I went through in 2007, I would pray for wisdom, courage and strength every single day. I still need the wisdom to make the right decisions, the strength to courage to carry out those decisions, and the strength to trust myself that I made the right choice. So that's what I'm praying for these days. I know it takes time and I know I have to wait for the answer to come to me. I know I have to look for the right answer and not just the answer I want. But man, it would be so EASY if I could just text God and get my yes/no answers. "No, you should not go out tonight", "Yes, he is the man I have chosen for you", and "I know your mom annoys you, but just give her a hug for me". If God had BBM, I would buy a BlackBerry, no question.

Hey, Did You Hear...?

• Did you hear Demi Moore and Ashton Kutcher were seen together at a service even though they're separated?
• Did you hear Dr. Conrad Murray said Michael Jackson begged him for drugs saying, "Please, please"?
• Did you hear Rosie O'Donnell has a new girlfriend on her arm?

Did you hear that women in Congo are being raped by men in Africa? No? Shocking.

Why is it that we know all this stuff about celebrities, but are less aware about the serious issues happening internationally? We know all the updates about the latest couples who got married, those who got divorced, and those who had a baby. I had this conversation with students in my class a few weeks ago. I spoke up in class and I'll speak up again. No one cares. Don't comment on this post saying it's not true; you care and you know many people who do. Oh yeah? Did you care five minutes ago before you read this? Do you constantly think about the suffering and pain that Congolese women have to endure at the hands and guns of soldiers? You do? Liar.

I have not even been able to find a CURRENT article speaking about this. I got as close as May of this year. It was study results showing that "Forty-eight women raped every hour in Congo". That statistic is probably higher by now seeing how almost six months has passed and not every woman is going to admit she has been raped. This means that, in Congo, there is almost one woman being sexually abused every minute of every day. It is completely disgusting. You know what, I am going to skip a line - no, two lines - and start a new paragraph so you can wrap your head around that for a bit.


I have a math equation. The study that was published in the American Journal of Public Health found that 1,152 women are raped every day. The United Nations thought there was an estimated 16,000 rapes a year. 1,152 rapes per day x 365 days a year = 26 times more than 16,000 (420,480). Someone in the UN needs a new calculator. They are just as ignorant as and oblivious as North Americans.

For those of you with a little bit of skepticism, wondering if this number is real, if these women are truly getting raped or if they just miss their husbands, check this out:

Women here have so much freedom. We can walk around and live our lives for the most part of not feeling scared, or at least not thinking we are the next one to get raped. I'm not asking you to pass this along to ten friends because I will not promise you good fortune in the next 3 days at 5:47 pm. As gruesome as this sounds, I just hope this pops in your head once awhile. And when it does, please speak about it.

I declare that I will figure out a way how to blow this open, how to help these women, how to get their voices heard so us rich comfortable people can feel at least a little bad for ignoring them all these years.

GTA G-Strings

Who are they? The new female hockey team, of course. What makes them interesting? Well, instead of wearing pounds of pads, they're wearing g-strings and bikini tops. Doesn't that sound exciting, liberating, empowering, and a great investment for advertisers? No, that's porn (and the flu). So why the hell is this okay: "Come for the Underwear, Stay for the Football". I just cant wrap my head around this. I gave it time. I've been following up since the idea was first proposed to have this lingerie football team come to Toronto. I thought it would go away. I thought wrong. Some idiot gave birth to this.

Let's go through this article. First of all, the team name is Toronto Triumphs. Stupid name. Next. They have to play in bras and underwear in order to appeal to the public. So talent means nothing then. What kind of impression are they even making on young women? "Of course you can be successful playing any sport men can; you just cant wear many clothes doing it". Do I think it's sad? I think it's disgusting. I'll tackle any of these women to the floor WITH my clothes on. Yeah, I'm a rebel.

These women aren't even getting paid. Strippers get paid to dance on poles. I'm not calling these women strippers because that would be rude and degrading. They're playing football in their underwear for free. Sandy from "Grease" would not approve. I find it hilarious that they have to sign a contract saying they know that a Janet Jackson mishap may happen in future games. I mean, let's say the seats are empty. One player could be encouraged to pull another player's bra string, and cha-ching, filled seats at the next games.

Okay fine, there are a few advantages. These hardworking players get free gym memberships, tanning, and massages. Looks like we found Toronto's Jersey Shore. Seriously, Canada? First Councillor Doug Ford doesn't even know who Margaret Atwood is and now his daughter, Krista, brought this crap across the border from the States?

My fifteen year old sister is a linebacker on her high school team at Richview Collegiate Institute, the same team the Toronto Triumph's most popular player and team captain, Krista Ford, played for. When I told my sister about the idea when it first hit the news, she had the same comment I am still struggling to figure out myself. "Why? That makes no sense."

"I'm not a businessman, I'm a business maaan"

So first of all, I have to give that title's credit to my friend, Hector. I have no clue who said it first, but he said it first to me, so he gets the shout out for making me laugh. I'm not even into business that much, but I realized that, indirectly, business is into me.

During elementary school, friends could be made so easily. You like blue? Me too. We're friends. You defend me from the boy trying to give me cooties. You're my hero. These days, friends are made selectively. That close intimate group of friends comprises of less than five people. Then there are friends of friends. Then come the friends who think you're they're friends, but you're not. You know what, chances are, they're pretending too. Let's call these associates.

Everyone in the business for themselves. In school, I cannot be friends with all 39 people in my class. Okay, I can, but not genuinely. I think subliminally, university and college has taught me to really watch the students around me. This is the generation I will be growing up with. One of the accounting students will be my accountant and control all my damn money. Some people in the human resources program may interview me for a job later on. I may need one of those engineering graduates to run the IT department in my future company.

Try to listen to people's dreams, their ambitions, their goals. The magic question to ask is "What can this person do for me?" It may seem cold-hearted or  fake, but chances are these days that the other person is thinking the exact same thing about you.

Toronto Stock Exchange

It's hard for me to get into relationships. Scratch that. It's hard for me to even consider dating someone. Scratch that again. It's hard for me to consider talking to a guy more than once. I feel like the guy has to be worth my time and energy. The time to actually put his number in my phone and the energy to pick up the phone when he calls. I think that's fair. If I really gave EVERY guy who hit on me a chance, it would not be pretty. I'd end up dropping them eventually anyway.

Am I being judgmental if I decide within the first 10 seconds whether or not I will give them 10 more seconds? Probably, but I'm usually right. Do I have attitude in those first 10 seconds? Probably, but those who can get past that barrier have already passed the first wall. I'm not even trying to test guys or make them work super hard to get a chance with me. I'm just real. I'm genuine. I don't play games and I'm pretty blunt with why I chose not to waste the next 10 seconds talking to them. I love to debate and tell a guy exactly why I have decided to put my earphones back in and tune out.

So where does "Stock Exchange" come from? I've been treating guys like I live in the world of TSX. I feel like a rich famous banker who has loads of money to spend, but no one worth spending it on. My future client better come at me with a full portfolio of what he has. If he has potential, I'll drop some money in it. If he's worth a little more, I'll even take my shares out of some other clients and focus more on him. Maybe this sounds condescending. Maybe I'm holding a super high standard for men that cannot be attained. If so, I have no problem keeping all my money.

I believe guys should be like this too. I think they're a bit more frivolous with their money and choose to spend a little here and there, and everywhere that looks good. Then they come back broke and expect some kind of loan. I've been the loan officer. Then they get enough money to put back in shares and leave again, forgetting the loan officer. So guys should save their money like many girls do. When that top investment comes along, they'll have enough history in their portfolio and enough learned lessons and dreams to know what they want. That makes them confident, assured and determined to get what they want.

I'm not harsh. I'm not rude. I'm not bitter. I just refuse to get robbed.