Love Is A Verb

A few weeks ago my boyfriend and I were talking about what love is. He was worried that you fall in love and then one day the feeling may die and what do you do then? At the same time he quoted Stephen R. Covey who said that love is a verb and in order to love someone you have to perform acts of love. I was reading some cool quotes one time and one of them said that ‘we build up courage by doing things that require courage’. Similarly, I think we develop a deep love for someone by doing things that require love. In other words, instead of doing something for someone because we feel love for them, we do something for them in order to feel the love. In that sense Love IS a verb. So I thought I’d conduct a little experiment and do little things for him that will make me more in love with him. Reason being, I feel that he is a little more involved in the relationship than me and because I care about him and don’t want him to get discouraged I want to work on this. He had to work to gain my trust and to win me over in the first place so I think now it’s time he reap the rewards! (Not that I never showed him I care before...)

So I will try this and see how it feels… for me.

If we were a movie...

I watched a film the other day, and it hit me again how movies are so much like real life. I mean, duh! They are about somebody’s life. The thing is that we watch movies, especially love stories, and we think, “That would never happen in real life. That would never happen to me.” But when I think about my own life I can just see how someone could make a movie based on it. Just start at any point in my life and tell one of the stories! It wouldn’t be boring, because it’s not as much what story you tell, it’s how you tell it. Plus, my life is really interesting! :-)
Then, I hear or even take part in other people’s stories and I’m blown away with how amazing they are, those people and their lives. Any of them, take your pick! A grannie selling junk in the marketplace; a school girl on a morning bus; a beggar sleeping on the steps of the Euston station. They’re everywhere. What are they thinking about? What do they wish for, dream about, remember? It’s fascinating. If you only use a little imagination and really listen, you will hear stories more exciting than books you read or films you watch, funnier than the sit coms, scarier than thrillers. You just have to know how to listen and ask the right questions. No life is ordinary; there is a story behind every face.
Or, I could make some part of my life into a story. Just make it up and make it happen. Then let life carry you on, because the best adventures happen when you’ve not panned them and it’s most interesting when it’s a surprise. For example, if I wanted to be a princess in a castle, sifting through crowds of admirers I could just come up with the craziest things to try out the guys who are interested in me. I could meet boys from far far away and see who cares enough to come see me all the way on the enchanted island of Great Britain! (That would be the last obstacle, as they would have to go through a very hard screening process first!) Or if I wanted to be a celebrity, I could do something to get on TV and then people would just love me because I’m so cute and smart and funny! :-) Or if I wanted to be a scientist, I could study really hard because I am smart enough... Just as long as I believe it can happen. There’s lots you can do, to make life your very own fairy tale. Maybe it’s silly and childish and naive but... I believe in Happy Endings. I believe that everything has it’s opposite and that no one can be unhappy forever. I believe people do change, I believe in their kindness and good will; I believe in love and inspiration, in miracles, in making a difference, in making the impossible happen. And I know that I’m never alone.

Work drama

It’s been a while since I last posted anything substantial, and only now I realise how much I actually have to say! I’ll catch up in parts, I don’t want to bore anyone to death – I have been bored to death before, it’s not nice. Last time I was bored to death was in a ‘Responsible Persons Training’ organised by my lovely company, where I learned about Legionella (bacteria transmitted in water droplets coming from lakes and rivers but sometimes found in old plumbing systems), asbestos (that day I realised I had been exposed to it as a child, so give it another 15-20 years and I could develop a lung cancer. Not funny.) and Health and Safety Act. I didn’t fall asleep only because the guy was actually quite funny and did the whole presentation pretty well. Normally, all the presentations/trainings I have sat in have been so boring and so poorly delivered that I just can’t bear it. Mind you, I got the best training in that – on Temple Square. And gave, let’s see… I was there for a total of about 14 months, gave about 12 tours a week, that’s roughly 61 weeks x 12 = 732 presentations. That’s just the main tours, add Humanitarian Centre ones and Welfare Square and mini presentations while contacting, plus training new sisters… shall we say about 1000? I think that’s fair. So I think I can be picky, can’t I?

But I was going to talk about work. I had some issues here from the beginning (I started this in January). It just seemed like no one cared, what I was doing, where I was sitting, what equipment I got, how much training I got… So everything I learned, I learned because I kept pestering everyone around me with questions. And then I have my one-to-one with my line manager, thinking, here we’re going to set some targets (we call them KPI’s here – Key performance Indicators) but we sit down and she starts to evaluate me… and I go wait a minute, that’s not right. How can we be evaluating goals we had never set? She gave me like 96%, almost 100% but not quite… So I get out of the meeting, mad as hell, and think to myself, oh no you don’t! This is not how you treat Emilia!!! (seriously) I asked everyone I thought was competent and finally went to my manager’s manager.
At the same time, my colleague Lee had a similar problem and kicked up a lot more stink in the meeting itself. Being a lady I’m a bit more classy, so went about it differently :-p
Once I had all the information I needed, I had a nice little chat with the Big Boss. She apologised and gave me 100%.
Since then, everyone has been SO much nicer to everyone else! Pays off to kick up some stink sometimes, doesn’t it?
;-)

I'm back!!!

So I had a break... rather long one actually. Quick update then...

Not much to say, to be honest.. I have been ill but we're not going to talk about that - let's stay positive. Besides, I'm well now so there's no need. But that would be my excuse for not having much to write - I go to work, get so tired that by the time I get home I'm wiped and can't be bothered to go out or do anything exciting.

I have moved though, to a beautiful home with my friends from the family ward I used to go to. Along with that change I decided to go to a singles ward in Central London (the only one in the area...)which has been great fun. I must say, as much as I used to hate going there, I really enoy it now. Perhaps I will have a whole another entry on that subject, as it is very interesting!
Meanwhile, this will have to do.

Beautiful London

I live in London.

Doesn't it sound SO glamorous?
Well... it's not.

When I first moved to London a couple years ago, I remember walking down the street one day thinking, "Wow! I'm in London!" I didn't know anybody and I was just a waitress, trying to find a regular job, but I was so wowed with this place.

But guess what: it kinda wears off.

There's just so many annoying things I noticed since I've been here, for example, the way they pronounce the word schedule as if the C wasn't even there: shedule. Flippin heck! how do you pronounce the word school? shool? NO. So why do you say shedule??? I mean, I understand the accent thing but this isn't the accent, this is... I don't know what the hell this is!

Then there's this one thing I just adore - it's how a sales person gives you your change. First, they will hand you your receipt (the biggest and most important thing to hand you), then the notes and then your change. They put it on top of all the crap they already put in your hand and guess what happens! The coins go everywhere.
Now, you'd think that after seeing it happen a few times they would learn to do it the other way round, but no. Every single sales person, every flippin time.

Or, public transportation. And I don't mean the delays, the overcrowded trains and platforms and other ways they come up with to make your life miserable. It's how men will elbow you out of their way to get on the train. I mean, hello! you are bigger and stronger, and that's just taking advantage! Sometimes a guy will make me so mad that I say to the deliquent, "Go on, ladies first!"

And what is up with 12 year lod girls wearing full make-up and highlights??? (I even saw one on the train this morning), or 50 year old women wearing pink track suits? or any woman wearing trainers (tennis shoes) with her work suit???
These are not as much annoying as ust weird....

So you see, eventually you're like, "I live in London. CRAP. What did I get myself into??? Get me outta here!!!"

So why am I still here? Because I love it. Apart from those little annoying things, this is a great place, with great opportunities and I feel blessed to be here. I wouln't be who I am if I hadn't come here. I mean after all, it's London.

BSS

About a month ago I started on a new role and my colleague has recently asked me to write in our company newsletter about ‘Why I love my job?”. I did, but there were some things I wanted to say that would not have been approved by the editor. But I can still do it on here, can’t I? So here we go…

My role title is BSS. As you have probably guessed, it is an acronym. Notice how it’s not just BS (you know what that stands for), it is B-double-S. BSS. Does that mean we take a lot of BS from customers? or that we dish it out? Well, to be honest, it’s a balanced relationship. Very balanced. The more we get, the more we give.

Ok, now I'm making it sound like we’re a bunch of meanies over here. We’re really not, in fact we’re very nice to everyone. After all, we have to provide good customer service, right? But c’mon, if a customer sends you a little accident report saying the sun is shining through the window at a certain time of the day and giving them a headache? (which means they cannot carry on wrking) BS. Or that the noise outside is just too much to take? BS. Or when one calls you and says it’s 16 degrees (too cold) when it is in fact 20? BS. Or when… no, that’s enough. I was supposed to talk about why I like my job.

But let’s first decide if I actually do like my job. I mean, after all, it’s not that well paid, it’s a lot of stress (and BS), I haven’t been trained properly (which means I HAVE to BS my way through), I’m stuck in an office for 8.5 hours a day, I haven’t even got a desk or a drawer to put my stuff in and I have been living off a crate for the past month. Sounds like crap? I agree.

But what I do like about it is this: I am very much a people person and who I work with is much more important to me than what I do. And here, I think I’m working within a great team. Not that there isn’t any crap going on, it wouldn’t be a team if there weren’t! But I like the fact that from day one everyone knew who I was. And that I know everyone. I’m not just a number, neither am I swamped with all these responsibilities I’m not ready to handle (yes, that has happened to me before), so most the time you will see me being all happy and chirpy, and smiling. Except for those days when I’m coming down with flu and somebody has just binned my food.

Now you see why I couldn't write all that in the company newsletter...

PS: BSS really stands for Business Service Support, which translates: an assistant to a facilities manager. The rest is true.

Oath...

This is something that has been on my mind for a while, so I thought I'd let it out at last.

Ever since I can remember, I have been told I was too skinny.
Fact: I’m 5’10’’ (177cm) and 125lb (58kg).
Fact: I’m underweight.
Fact: I don’t try to be, I just am.

I never really cared that much until one day my not-so-skinny friend walked up to me and said while hugging me hello, ”You’re so skinny, eww, it’s disgusting!” Ever since then, I started getting a little self conscious about my weight… I tried eating more junk, but my liver couldn’t take it. I tried eating late, but it would keep me up late. I tried eating large quantities but my stomach is about the size of a peanut, that’s why I eat small amounts several times a day. That’s how my body works. My doctor told me off when I complained of sleeplessness and told me to quit it. Did I listen to her? Hell no. I kept trying to gain weight until at some point I laughed at myself and thought, “Gosh, all those girls going on diets to lose weight and I’m on one to gain some punds!” And all of a sudden it wasn’t so funny any more. That’s when I started thinking, this is ridiculous! Why am I obsessing about putting on weight when I know it doesn’t work for me? Just because some fat jerk told me I looked bad? I like me the way I am and I refuse to let someone else tell me how I should feel about myself! Screw you! I’ll be as skinny or as fat as I want, as long as I like it! Some girls openly admit they would kill to look like me, and I’m not happy!!! There’s something seriously wrong here!

My point is, it’s not about whether I am skinny or fat, or ‘just right’ but how I feel about it and whether I let others decide how I should feel for me. Cos that’s just mean! Do I walk up to someone who is overweight and say, “Man, you’re so FAT! It’s disgusting!”? No! I have enough respect and sensitivity not to do such a thing. And nobody does it to fat people, because it’s not 'politically correct'. Only the skinny ones get the special treatment.
I mean, is it my fault that my body needs more energy for regular day-to-day activities? I don’t need to exercise to get my heart rate up to 130, a 20 minute walk from the train station to work will do the trick! I believe it has something to do with so called high metabolism.

Therefore…
I hereby make an oath: I shall not let other people decide how much I should weight and I shall obsess about dieting no more. Moreover, I shall not let anyone decide what I like, think or want in my life in general. Period.