Even when I don't want to hear how particularly crap I am at something, feedback from friends can be a great thing. If nothing else, it reduces the need to have to introspect for myself. But today for some reason, a bunch of friends passed a variety of comments that have lingered in my mind.
First of, I dropped Dub an email this morning, and he responded, "Ha ha, when you write I can just imagine you standing there pouting with your hands on your hips."
Do I pout??!
I admit I have a (possibly over-indulgent) flare for the dramatic - but a pout?? I haven't ever really considered myself to be girly. Not for me the pouts and twirls and coquettish tosses of the hair. But Dub's comment made me think - maybe, subconsciously, unawaredly, I do. Maybe I DO pout. How exciting, really. So French chic. Now I can stop worrying about what it means that I'm so infatuated with gadgets.
Later this morning, in a totally separate conversation, I dropped Milo an email and he responded, "Ha ha, when you write I can just visualise your facial expressions and it cracks me up."
WHAT. Do I have a funny face?
Now, I might not be the most composed of lasses, but is my face really that funny? I mulled over this one for a bit, and have come to the conclusion that it must be the new expression I've been donning when confused. :S What I've come to realise is that it's much cuter (and easier to pull off) as an MSN emoticon than in person. Nonetheless I've taken to pulling the face often (confusion is a common occurence with me), in fact arguably too often to be socially acceptable or femininely elegant. But I hadn't realised yet that it was verging on the hilarious.
And then the killer comment. I was talking to Seagull today and he said, "You're so closed as a person, you never volunteer any information about yourself unless specifically asked." I thought it a sharp observation, and was surprised by his astuteness.
But then he proceeded to say, "But then there's points when you sometimes confuse yourself and unintentionally let out more than intended."
Confuse myself???? Hey, Mister, I'm in full grasp of my faculties.
It's no secret to any of you that I'm somewhat restrained with volunteering information about myself. Both Inihtar and I have discussed this before: It's not about wanting to be secretive, it's about wanting to be asked. But ultimately, this is to do with the games people play, and if I'm not up to the guile, best figure that out now.
Confuse myself, eh. Like tripping over myself in my own enthusiasm. Or being hoisted by my own petard. Ha. AS IF that could ever be me.
Tuesday, November 29, 2005
Sunday, November 27, 2005
Pet peeves
Is it wrong to not have a hate?
I've been wondering that for the last few days, ever since the Bart, Caveboy, AP and I were discussing our pet peeves the other day. Each of them had something they absolutely hated:
- Successful people, said Caveboy
- The formal education system, said the Bart
- People who walk slowly in front of you when you're in a hurry, added AP
But when it was my turn, I couldn't think of anything. "Err... not sure I really have anything that rankles like that," I admitted, but they all turned to stare at me in shock.
"What, can't you think of anything?!!"
"Surely no one is that positive about life!"
"My next pet peeve is people without pet peeves!" with a roll of the eyes.
I racked my brains, but if I was going to be true to myself, there really wasn't anything. I shook my head embarrassedly. "Seriously, guys, I just don't think I hate anything" I asserted defensively.
But since then I've been feeling somewhat inadequate for it. As though not having a hate indicates an absence of passion. As though it means I'm disengaged from life. Or lacking in opinions. Which is not true. And which I know I'm not. But all the same, it bothers me that a certain element of malcontentment is regarded as a pre-requisite for being taken seriously in life. That positivity can equate to shallowness and a general lack of substantiveness.
So to clarify to the world that I too can be in a grump, I've been pondering and perplexing over a possible pet peeve. And this morning, as I sat in Starbucks waiting for my flight, I glanced at some of the other customers and realised what my pet peeve was: I hate people who take piles of extra napkins with their coffee when they only actually need one. I hate that kind of wastefulness and disregard for the environment.
HATE.
There. Do I qualify now?
I've been wondering that for the last few days, ever since the Bart, Caveboy, AP and I were discussing our pet peeves the other day. Each of them had something they absolutely hated:
- Successful people, said Caveboy
- The formal education system, said the Bart
- People who walk slowly in front of you when you're in a hurry, added AP
But when it was my turn, I couldn't think of anything. "Err... not sure I really have anything that rankles like that," I admitted, but they all turned to stare at me in shock.
"What, can't you think of anything?!!"
"Surely no one is that positive about life!"
"My next pet peeve is people without pet peeves!" with a roll of the eyes.
I racked my brains, but if I was going to be true to myself, there really wasn't anything. I shook my head embarrassedly. "Seriously, guys, I just don't think I hate anything" I asserted defensively.
But since then I've been feeling somewhat inadequate for it. As though not having a hate indicates an absence of passion. As though it means I'm disengaged from life. Or lacking in opinions. Which is not true. And which I know I'm not. But all the same, it bothers me that a certain element of malcontentment is regarded as a pre-requisite for being taken seriously in life. That positivity can equate to shallowness and a general lack of substantiveness.
So to clarify to the world that I too can be in a grump, I've been pondering and perplexing over a possible pet peeve. And this morning, as I sat in Starbucks waiting for my flight, I glanced at some of the other customers and realised what my pet peeve was: I hate people who take piles of extra napkins with their coffee when they only actually need one. I hate that kind of wastefulness and disregard for the environment.
HATE.
There. Do I qualify now?
Wednesday, November 23, 2005
And the battle continues
2.00 a.m. last Friday morning found me scrambling to complete a presentation which had been due earlier that evening. At that point exhaustion must have got the better of me, because I ended up sending out an email to the entire management team with a whole bunch of erroneous information. Now this, as you all know, is not particularly out of character for me, even at my sharpest best. The difference was that this time I failed to catch myself and send out the usual email of retroactive correction and apology.
Early the next morning, my inbox displayed a sharp stricture from Rizlo.
Now, this is the first time I've mentioned Rizlo here, so perhaps a little background is due. Rizlo's a member of the management team, and the only person at the company with whom my relationship got off on a bit of a rocky start. He is a stickler for detail and accuracy, and takes it upon himself to reprimand those who fall down on these two points. Being as I often fall down on these two points, I am accordingly often the subject of his critique. Of course, the infuriating part is not so much the ensuing argument (although that is pretty rankling), but rather the fact that he is always right (dammit).
So with some helpful advice from Seagull ("every time he says something, just laugh"), I've been working hard over the last few weeks to improve my relationship with Rizlo. Gradually our interactions have developed from adversity to tolerance to respect and friendly banter. I've been feeling especially proud of these giant strides of mankind.
So it made me especially glum to see his correctional email in my inbox yesterday. It was like picking a Chance card: Go back to Adversity. Do not pass Go. Do not collect $200.
As usual, he was right, and I was mortified by the enormity of my mistake. Yikes, they're going to fire me, I thought, and then remembered that as the HR bod, I'D have to fire me. This made me feel somewhat more cheery, although all the same, I did indulge in a fair share of moping and sulking, primarily for Rizlo's benefit. By the end of the day, he finally picked up on my hints.
"Don't worry about your email," he consoled me, "you want to know about the big email error I made today?" Ad he told me about a pretty shitty email he had accidentally sent to a client. Rizlo is never one to easily admit his own flaws, so for him to share this with me just to make me feel better, I thought was a great bonding moment.
"Oh Rizlo that's awful!" I exclaimed. "Thanks for telling me about that, now I feel so much better about what I did!"
At once the bonding moment was over. "Oy, steady on," he said. "What I did wasn't that bad."
Hmm, I do suspect this relationship needs some more work. Time for Seagull to give me Advice step # 2.
Early the next morning, my inbox displayed a sharp stricture from Rizlo.
Now, this is the first time I've mentioned Rizlo here, so perhaps a little background is due. Rizlo's a member of the management team, and the only person at the company with whom my relationship got off on a bit of a rocky start. He is a stickler for detail and accuracy, and takes it upon himself to reprimand those who fall down on these two points. Being as I often fall down on these two points, I am accordingly often the subject of his critique. Of course, the infuriating part is not so much the ensuing argument (although that is pretty rankling), but rather the fact that he is always right (dammit).
So with some helpful advice from Seagull ("every time he says something, just laugh"), I've been working hard over the last few weeks to improve my relationship with Rizlo. Gradually our interactions have developed from adversity to tolerance to respect and friendly banter. I've been feeling especially proud of these giant strides of mankind.
So it made me especially glum to see his correctional email in my inbox yesterday. It was like picking a Chance card: Go back to Adversity. Do not pass Go. Do not collect $200.
As usual, he was right, and I was mortified by the enormity of my mistake. Yikes, they're going to fire me, I thought, and then remembered that as the HR bod, I'D have to fire me. This made me feel somewhat more cheery, although all the same, I did indulge in a fair share of moping and sulking, primarily for Rizlo's benefit. By the end of the day, he finally picked up on my hints.
"Don't worry about your email," he consoled me, "you want to know about the big email error I made today?" Ad he told me about a pretty shitty email he had accidentally sent to a client. Rizlo is never one to easily admit his own flaws, so for him to share this with me just to make me feel better, I thought was a great bonding moment.
"Oh Rizlo that's awful!" I exclaimed. "Thanks for telling me about that, now I feel so much better about what I did!"
At once the bonding moment was over. "Oy, steady on," he said. "What I did wasn't that bad."
Hmm, I do suspect this relationship needs some more work. Time for Seagull to give me Advice step # 2.
Saturday, November 19, 2005
What's wrong with my hair?
Fran and I were talking about girly stuff - manicures, pedicures, and facial treatments.
This is my weekend of self-indulgence. On Wednesday, I'll be meeting Caveboy again. The last thing I want is to get off the plane, for him to see me for the first time in months, and to think omg she's looking a bit shoddy. I would just die.
I voiced these concerns to Fran, and she exclaimed with all the right indignation in keeping with her role as my surrogate-mum in the office. "Don't be silly, Ficali, you're looking lovely! You're so pretty, you don't need to do anything to yourself, any guy would be lucky to have you just as you are!"
(I, of course, lapped up the lines.)
Really? I did a little twirl for her benefit.
"Well, hmm," she scratched her chin, "Now that I look closely, I guess you could afford to do something about your hair."
This is my weekend of self-indulgence. On Wednesday, I'll be meeting Caveboy again. The last thing I want is to get off the plane, for him to see me for the first time in months, and to think omg she's looking a bit shoddy. I would just die.
I voiced these concerns to Fran, and she exclaimed with all the right indignation in keeping with her role as my surrogate-mum in the office. "Don't be silly, Ficali, you're looking lovely! You're so pretty, you don't need to do anything to yourself, any guy would be lucky to have you just as you are!"
(I, of course, lapped up the lines.)
Really? I did a little twirl for her benefit.
"Well, hmm," she scratched her chin, "Now that I look closely, I guess you could afford to do something about your hair."
Thursday, November 17, 2005
People in glass houses...
.... should remember they can be seen by the public.
Danby returned from the Phillippines today, and the first thought that struck me was that I totally hadn't anticipated just how happy it would make me to have him back. Although he and I were both incredibly busy, we each treated the mandatory office-gossip-catch-up sesh with the gravity and importance it deserved.
First a good half hour poring over the pictures and squealing and exclaiming over his anecdotes. Then a good half hour conspirationally filling him in on the goss back home. Then we had eaten through all the important stuff, and the conversation degenerated pretty rapidly into inevitable inane trivia.
I told him about the gym I'd joined and immediately we stuck out our arms and compared biceps. A glance at his, a glance at mine , and I felt obliged to clarify that I only used the gym for its treadmill. Mention of the gym led to talk of push-ups, and I realised it had been years since I'd actually done one, and I wondered if I could still do them.
"Do you think people will think I'm a freak if I try a push-up right here in my office?" I asked him.
"Sure they will," he said, "but then they know that already. That's why they like you."
(Hmm. I'm going to have to mull over that one for a bit. I'm not convinced by this veiled compliment/insult business.)
So I did a push-up.
Then he upped me by doing a one-hand push-up.
So I had no choice but to prove my mettle by doing one too.
And discovered, much like a baby discovers it can't yet walk, that I'm not strong enough for that yet. Plop, on my face on the ground. For all to see, in a glass walled office.
Quickly stood up, dusted myself off (with dignity), looked up at Danby's laughing face, and peered out through the glass walls to check who had caught my pea-brained moment. I half-expected Big Boss M to be outside, staring at me in alarm. But this time, luck was on my side. Nevertheless, maybe it's not the best thing for the HR bod to be doing one-arm push-up-flops in an office with glass walls, I reminded myself.
Although, as Danby took pains to point out, my blog has been somewhat lacking in ridiculous adventure since he and Seagull left town. So maybe here they come again...
Danby returned from the Phillippines today, and the first thought that struck me was that I totally hadn't anticipated just how happy it would make me to have him back. Although he and I were both incredibly busy, we each treated the mandatory office-gossip-catch-up sesh with the gravity and importance it deserved.
First a good half hour poring over the pictures and squealing and exclaiming over his anecdotes. Then a good half hour conspirationally filling him in on the goss back home. Then we had eaten through all the important stuff, and the conversation degenerated pretty rapidly into inevitable inane trivia.
I told him about the gym I'd joined and immediately we stuck out our arms and compared biceps. A glance at his, a glance at mine , and I felt obliged to clarify that I only used the gym for its treadmill. Mention of the gym led to talk of push-ups, and I realised it had been years since I'd actually done one, and I wondered if I could still do them.
"Do you think people will think I'm a freak if I try a push-up right here in my office?" I asked him.
"Sure they will," he said, "but then they know that already. That's why they like you."
(Hmm. I'm going to have to mull over that one for a bit. I'm not convinced by this veiled compliment/insult business.)
So I did a push-up.
Then he upped me by doing a one-hand push-up.
So I had no choice but to prove my mettle by doing one too.
And discovered, much like a baby discovers it can't yet walk, that I'm not strong enough for that yet. Plop, on my face on the ground. For all to see, in a glass walled office.
Quickly stood up, dusted myself off (with dignity), looked up at Danby's laughing face, and peered out through the glass walls to check who had caught my pea-brained moment. I half-expected Big Boss M to be outside, staring at me in alarm. But this time, luck was on my side. Nevertheless, maybe it's not the best thing for the HR bod to be doing one-arm push-up-flops in an office with glass walls, I reminded myself.
Although, as Danby took pains to point out, my blog has been somewhat lacking in ridiculous adventure since he and Seagull left town. So maybe here they come again...
Tuesday, November 15, 2005
Fate, ye evil mistress
Ilajna and I bought all of our furniture from good ol' IKEA, and had to build it ourselves. "Ha, ha, ha," I told everyone, "I bet I'm going to end up with crooked shelves."
But, you know. It was meant to be a funny joke. Self-deprecatory humour and all that, ha ha ha. It was NOT meant to come true. But I guess I forgot to knock on wood.
So what was the fruits of Ficali's labour? A wardrobe which looks like a fashion statement. Me and my big mouth. Remind me to keep it shut.
But, you know. It was meant to be a funny joke. Self-deprecatory humour and all that, ha ha ha. It was NOT meant to come true. But I guess I forgot to knock on wood.
So what was the fruits of Ficali's labour? A wardrobe which looks like a fashion statement. Me and my big mouth. Remind me to keep it shut.
Sunday, November 13, 2005
Elephant ballerinas
I was so busy moaning about summer's last sigh, that I clean forgot about one of the most exciting things brought on by the advent of winter: ice-skating! Macklaine, Pangli and I rose excitedly on Sunday morning and gamboled over to Central Park to dapple in a bit of ice-skating. The fresh morning air had just the right amount of chill, the ice was glistening white, the park was quilted in autumn colours - the entire scene was absolutely gorgeous.
After an early breakfast at possibly the priciest and most touristy breakfast cafe on Fifth Av (we stumbled in accidentally and then were too embarrassed to beat the hasty retreat we should have beaten), we headed over to the ice rink in the park. Then there was the awkward moment of grimacing and grunting as we struggled to stuff our feet into the skate boots (Of all the frustrating flaws one can have, my feet are of different sizes, which means, inevitably, one foot gets squashed like a sardine). Then the even more awkward moment of hobbling from the lockers to the rink. And finally, we were on the ice.
Slipping, sliding, twirling, gliding - unfortunately a bit like elephant ballerinas - but it was just so exhilarating. After ten minutes on the rink, when we'd smoothed our techniques, perfected our glide and boosted our mutual confidence, we started getting experimental. I tried skating with my hands clasped behind my back, everyone else looked so elegant doing it. But I realised pretty immediately that this had the unanticipated result, for some inexplicable reason, of making me lose my momentum and come to a halt. Well, at least I don't need to crash into the wall now each time I want to stop.
And we tried skating backwards - which left (ahem) much to be desired, but also much to look forward to for next time. But atleast we know the methodology in theory if not practice, and as the wise philosophers I'm sure would confirm, there's a lot to be said for theory (if not practice).
Warning: watch out for the little knee-high torpedo kids that zip around - they haven't yet developed a distaste for crashing or falling.
To the little kid who almost fell: I'm sorry I spun around suddenly (hadn't intended to, but you'll learn that sometimes in life you just don't have control) and even more sorry I almost lost my balance, scaring the daylights out of you and almost making you fall. I'm glad your daddy was there to hold you up, otherwise would have been a bit embarrassing for the both of us.
And I felt a bit cheated when I pulled off my skates and suddenly remembered I had to actually lift my feet to walk.
Can't wait to go again!
The week gone by
What with Pangli and Macklaine and Shan-K and Inihtar and Ximmix and Milo and Dub, these past weeks have been an absolute blur of activity. I guess I could write a story about each day's adventures, but at this point I'd rather just share some pictures. Make of them what you will. Here's some of the loveliest friends a person could wish for.
First off, CONGRATULATIONS to Ximmix, who today joins the community of the betrothed. I've never seen someone as excited. And to her husband - good luck! ;)
Ilajna, Azdadoobie and me at SEA Bistro - best Thai food in the city!
Milo, Macklaine and Pangli: MNF, Coor's Light (my first pint!!) and an obscene amount of chicken wings (for a fiver). Where we learnt to 'do as the Americans'
Milo, Dub and me: being introduced to the GLG post-work watering holes
Ilajna, Pangli and Macklaine: and then Gawd said, 'let there be wardrobes'
First off, CONGRATULATIONS to Ximmix, who today joins the community of the betrothed. I've never seen someone as excited. And to her husband - good luck! ;)
Ilajna, Azdadoobie and me at SEA Bistro - best Thai food in the city!
Milo, Macklaine and Pangli: MNF, Coor's Light (my first pint!!) and an obscene amount of chicken wings (for a fiver). Where we learnt to 'do as the Americans'
Milo, Dub and me: being introduced to the GLG post-work watering holes
Ilajna, Pangli and Macklaine: and then Gawd said, 'let there be wardrobes'
Thursday, November 10, 2005
Emergency Control and other stories
Emergency Control:
I was feeling a bit fat today, so I went and joined the neighbourhood gym. Not that I'm normally impulsive or reactive in this manner, but some situations call for emergency measures. I am NOT going to go to London in two weeks only to have my friends think omg she went to the US and came back fat. Not that there's anything wrong with fat. It's just that it looks kind of comic if you also have the misfortune of being short. So its serious cardio from tomorrow. Well okay not tomorrow, because that's a Friday. And not the weekend because that's always a health write-off. Okay from Monday its' going to be a new Ficali.
In fact from Monday onwards you can just start calling me Ficali McTrim.
Other stories:
Today the global head of my department dropped me an email out of the blue to say: "You are on my radar as a key talent resource". Just like that, sans preamble or context, and sans greeting or salutation. What does it mean? Don't ask me, probably HR-speak for something or other, but it was positive rather than negative, and one must bask in little slivers of glory where one can. I was well chuffed with myself all afternoon, until it sudenly occurred to me: Omygosh what if he's a bit scatty like me and has sent it to me in error when actually it was meant for someone else! Which seems more and more likely given the out-of-the-blueness of the email. But until I hear otherwise, I'll have all of you know that I'm a Key Talent Resource.
Which probably means they like the picture of the big fat Thanksgiving turkey I drew on the HR strategy whiteboard in my office. Yep, that sounds pretty key-talent to me.
I was feeling a bit fat today, so I went and joined the neighbourhood gym. Not that I'm normally impulsive or reactive in this manner, but some situations call for emergency measures. I am NOT going to go to London in two weeks only to have my friends think omg she went to the US and came back fat. Not that there's anything wrong with fat. It's just that it looks kind of comic if you also have the misfortune of being short. So its serious cardio from tomorrow. Well okay not tomorrow, because that's a Friday. And not the weekend because that's always a health write-off. Okay from Monday its' going to be a new Ficali.
In fact from Monday onwards you can just start calling me Ficali McTrim.
Other stories:
Today the global head of my department dropped me an email out of the blue to say: "You are on my radar as a key talent resource". Just like that, sans preamble or context, and sans greeting or salutation. What does it mean? Don't ask me, probably HR-speak for something or other, but it was positive rather than negative, and one must bask in little slivers of glory where one can. I was well chuffed with myself all afternoon, until it sudenly occurred to me: Omygosh what if he's a bit scatty like me and has sent it to me in error when actually it was meant for someone else! Which seems more and more likely given the out-of-the-blueness of the email. But until I hear otherwise, I'll have all of you know that I'm a Key Talent Resource.
Which probably means they like the picture of the big fat Thanksgiving turkey I drew on the HR strategy whiteboard in my office. Yep, that sounds pretty key-talent to me.
Wednesday, November 09, 2005
Snippets
What with shuttling back and forth between two homes and living out of a suitcase and going out every evening to explore the new abode, my life is feeling rather disorganised and haphazard at the moment. Even the thoughts swilling in my head are disjointed, so bear with me as I spill them out for you in a bit of a fragmented entry.
Firstly, I've finally finished moving apartments. I whined and moaned about it a great deal to any willing listeners, and then spent ages procrastinating and worrying. So it was a bit of an anti-climax when the whole moving process ended up taking just 20 minutes. I guess there's only so long it CAN take when all your belongings in the world can fit into two suitcases. Still, it made me feel a bit ashamed for having made such a big deal bout it. Only a bit.
Acknowledgements: Thanks to Shan-K for coming all the way to NY and spending his afternoon fixing up my curtains (albeit two feet too short).
Thanks to Macklaine and Pangli for helping me carry the two suitcases up five floors. Because otherwise I would have just taken up residence in the lobby.
And thanks to Milo and Dub for introducing me to a whole host of bars and restaurants in the area.
My pals are such troopers.
As I engaged in a furious bout of packing and unpacking, I found my old digital camera. Typical. Just after I bought a new one. Still, there's a silver lining - it means I have my pictures from Miami again, so I can indulge in some grimacing at the sight of me in a bikini. Self-pity is a highly underrated activity. Not quite sure what to do with the camera exactly, if Milo's interested I'll probably give it to him as he sets off on his whirlwind adventures tomorrow.
On Monday I had my first full pint of beer ever. I'd tasted a couple of beers before but never drank a whole pint, so I was particularly proud. I bragged about it no end until Milo pointed out yesterday that now that I'd started drinking beer I would become fat. That shut me up pretty quick.
After shattering evenings on Friday, Monday, Tuesday and today, I have an inkling that the proximity of my new apartment to the GLG after-work watering holes is going to precipitate my downfall. Things are going off-kilter, I think I need a life coach. Volunteers?
Firstly, I've finally finished moving apartments. I whined and moaned about it a great deal to any willing listeners, and then spent ages procrastinating and worrying. So it was a bit of an anti-climax when the whole moving process ended up taking just 20 minutes. I guess there's only so long it CAN take when all your belongings in the world can fit into two suitcases. Still, it made me feel a bit ashamed for having made such a big deal bout it. Only a bit.
Acknowledgements: Thanks to Shan-K for coming all the way to NY and spending his afternoon fixing up my curtains (albeit two feet too short).
Thanks to Macklaine and Pangli for helping me carry the two suitcases up five floors. Because otherwise I would have just taken up residence in the lobby.
And thanks to Milo and Dub for introducing me to a whole host of bars and restaurants in the area.
My pals are such troopers.
As I engaged in a furious bout of packing and unpacking, I found my old digital camera. Typical. Just after I bought a new one. Still, there's a silver lining - it means I have my pictures from Miami again, so I can indulge in some grimacing at the sight of me in a bikini. Self-pity is a highly underrated activity. Not quite sure what to do with the camera exactly, if Milo's interested I'll probably give it to him as he sets off on his whirlwind adventures tomorrow.
On Monday I had my first full pint of beer ever. I'd tasted a couple of beers before but never drank a whole pint, so I was particularly proud. I bragged about it no end until Milo pointed out yesterday that now that I'd started drinking beer I would become fat. That shut me up pretty quick.
After shattering evenings on Friday, Monday, Tuesday and today, I have an inkling that the proximity of my new apartment to the GLG after-work watering holes is going to precipitate my downfall. Things are going off-kilter, I think I need a life coach. Volunteers?
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