My Life According to Placebo

It’s no secret that I like Placebo. I first heard them when I was 12 I think, and I definitely didn’t like them. The Pure Morning video played on MTV Russia daily at a certain point in time.

I didn’t like it then; however two years later love appeared.

I found a year-old post with this meme. You pick a performer and answer the following questions using only their songs. Then see what happens.

Are you a male or female:
Slackerbitch

Your last relationship:
Meds

Your fear:
Scared of Girls

What is the best advice you have to give:
Ask for Answers

Thought for the Day:
Taste in Men

How I would like to die:
Haemoglobin (esp first line…)

My soul’s present condition:
Because I Want You

My motto:
Hang On To Your IQ

Describe Yourself:
Special K

How do you feel:
Bigmouth Strikes Again

Describe where you currently live:
Brick Shithouse

If you could go anywhere, where would you go:
Twenty Years

Your favorite food is:
Bubblegum

Your best friend is:
Lady of the Flowers

You and your best friends…
Every You and Every Me

What’s the weather like:
Battle for the Sun

Favorite time of day:
Pure Morning

If your life was a TV show, what would it be called:
Days Before You Came

What is life to you:
Running Up That Hill

Longing for Weekend Visits

Last weekend my roommate went to Oakville to stay with her parents. She visits them every almost every weekend, and I admit I am wee bit jealous, because I wish I had the opportunity to see my family as frequently. Of course, if we all lived in the same city, I probably wouldn’t be able to see them absolutely every weekend. But I would appreciate the opportunity itself.

I imagine heading their way straight from work, and making it in time for dinner. Upon seeing me, the ever excited Bugs Tomato would leap to me, and then actively jump trying to lick my face once I kneel down. Seconds later, this affectionate little animal would experience problems breathing – chihuahuas are known to have respiratory problemsб – because he gets so excited. After I massage his throat for a bit and wonder how he can be so ecstatically excited to see me, he’s back to normal. I wish I could tell him to take it easy at times.

I would go on dropping my bags and situating myself in the kitchen, either helping mom to prepare dinner (something Russian that I asked for), or more likely, making the whole dinner myself. I love cooking for the family.

In the sunlit dining room (or the balcony, rain permitting) we’d share the food, laughter and recent news. Later we would most likely watch old Soviet movies, or 90′s Russian films. Sometimes mom and I itch for animated shorts of the olden days. Whatever we watch, we enjoy the time spent together.

For the rest of the weekend I would most likely preoccupy myself with either making food for the family, walking on the Promenade along the shore, or gearing up to take my mountain bike for a ride. Last time, instead of biking, I opted out for a hike in the neighboring forest. I definitely appreciate the West coast flora, especially the trees.

Really, I wouldn’t do much while visiting the parents. I always try to be in the present moment, to be calm (doesn’t work, I’m too excitable!), and patient. After the first few days I start to experience a sharp sense of melancholy, because these beautiful days will have to come to an end. I play with Bugs Tomato – he’s oblivious to my upcoming expiry – and I randomly hug either mom or dad. I desperately want the clock to slow down, but it is ruthless.

On the day of my scheduled flight to my other home, I mean it when I say “I don’t want to go”, and already foresee the blue week ahead. Upon the arrival, en route to my bed, I already long for my warm family home, laughing together and the ever ebullient Bugs Tomato.

Quick NYE Post Before It’s All Over

2009! Ima gonna let you finish, but 2010 is gonna be the best year evar. In fact, because I am a die-hard optimist with an agenda, ALL I want to say is that next year will be better (in fact, next year will be better because it’s my year of the Tiger, and I am a ferocious one, so y’all better watch out, make amends or clear path), and you, 2009, were just the “will do sans anything more impressive” year. However, if I compare you to 2008 or 2007 and back, then definitely you were the best so far.

So thanks for being what you were, 2009. You were great in terms of career opportunities, networks built, friends made, randoms tossed, knowledge gained and maturity points earned. If I was even geekier than I am, I’d keep a massive Excel spreadsheet documenting hangover days year after year (you can have the idea free of charge, dear readers), and saying, Oh this 2009 year is good, I’ve been behaving so much better!

Thanks for all, but seriously, get the hell out.

And all the rest of you: please be careful on December 31, 2009. It’s the full moon lunar eclipse.

Back When I Was Young..

too cute for alcatraz

Originally uploaded by dreamtiger

… I could escape Alcatraz only because I was too cute….

And silly, and associating myself with people who knew no limits

And San Francisco was as foggy as there was no tomorrow

And new friends appeared out of nowhere (that’s you, Michael L!)

Ah, 2000 and guess

2010 Kick Ass Time

It's not 2010 yet, but this was at Chris's birthday party & it looked awfully appropriate for the January 1st photo

Fun fact: I was born in the year of the fire tiger – um, can’t you tell?, – back in the hot and Soviet 1986 (eat your shorts, I’m young and loving it).

Not only do I like the fact that 2010, when split, is 20:10 (2, 2, 2!), but just a nice set of wholesome and beautiful 0-0 and 2 and 1. Anyway, excuse my obsession with semantics and the aesthetics. Off to some New Year ideals and promises, yeah?

In the new year, the beautiful and successful, 2010, I will use less brackets. And I will say “like” less. Down with the valley girl-isms. I should probably use less dashes, but I feel they’re underused and need more attention.

If anything, I’ll require larger supplies of exclamation marks in 2010.

I will also start my RSSP contributions in July 2010. When you start young, you get chances to end up in the big pile of dough… eventually.

I will have read at least 25 books. This year I read 18 or 20. I’m really aiming for 35 tomes.

I also want to completely stop eating meat produced from those giant farm plants where the animals get treated in the most terrible ways. I already don’t eat red meat, but I really need to eliminate processed meats and chicken breasts that came from hell.

I will become what is known as the gym rat. My gym routine will take precedence. I need to exert myself on the treadmill or die.

I will polish my Spanish. I spent three years studying it, and even could write two-page essays (um, on explorers. I wrote about Cristóbal Colón). It’s a shame to let language escape. Resuscitation! ¡Vámonos! Almodóvar‘s films can and will help.

And there’s professional goals, but those are better left for planning on paper and in Awesome Note. I already started with the new division, talked with VP’s about future plans and have a personal list of accomplishments and project ideas. It’s on.

Going to SXSW in the new year is also a goal.

Tentative: I will go to Vancouver during the Olympics because I can get a free bed, room, house AND the best dog in the world to stay with. Bugs Tomato is my man! It’s my chance to visit a city during the Olympics. I’m probably not going to be at London 2012, maybe Sochi 2014, probably not Rio 2016, but who knows.

Either way, I will be happy, learning, yearning, trying and achieving. 2010 is only the beginning of the awesome 12 year cycle. Make amends or get out of my way. Rawr!

When I Die

…I will think of the water, and the morning in Ibiza and how I dipped my whole body in the Fraser River in British Columbia, Canada, thanks to the boy, and how the big trees spoke to me, and how I wrote, how I felt, how my friend who can’t talk to me because she couldn’t stand the person she was with me, was imagining she was going to be a statistician at Greenland.

I would think about the small square in Barcelona that I was at – the walls were littered with gunshots from the civil war and how I choked on my little insignificant tears because all the boys died. And when I die, I will – as much as I hate to admit it and even type – fucking enjoy the fact that I’m writing it, – I will think about that boy who wished he shared all his younger memories with me, the boy who wished he could erase all the party memories before he met me, the boy who could not make me happy but who tried, tried, tried.

I will see Russia, Czech Republic, South Korea, Finland, England, Germany, the USA, Thailand flash before my eyes, the elephant’s trunk touching my leg lightly, and me almost drowning in the Indian Ocean, the soft voices of faraway Australians yelling.

I will think of the love, of the people who cared, of the people who made me who I am today; I will owe everything to my amazing parents and to my amateur choices, to my yearning soul and to my writer’s desire, to my cocky behavior and to my illustrious wit, to my undying passion, textbook loyalty and otherworldly thirst.

I want more than the world! i will undo all dying with my death.

I will die for you, I can die for you. I want to experience everything and I want to tell the most boisterous story that there ever was, I want you to feel how I felt, I want you to understand. When I die, several thousand lights and souls will die with me, I cannot help it, I will not help it, I will destroy, I will discourage many beautiful things with me.

I will think of the beautiful girl with wavy hair and gluten allergy – yes, us in the Western world, – I will think about many things I did wrong, but I will iron out every most beautiful memory into the most horrible iron story in history, the story of past, of tradition, and try to undo all evil and hurt with my death.

Take me, take me, take me!

(Related post of mine)

Master Organizer

I took this in Vancouver in 2003;
uploaded by dreamtiger

I have issues with time. I keep thinking – I know, – it goes away somewhere and is never coming back. Which is not a lie to be thinking. I try to fill up my time with meaningful activities, good people, cultural enrichment, jolly delicious food and drink, and generally good things for me.

I, like many of us humans, tend to forget things as well. That’s where the electronic, Internet and old-school analog productivity and remembrance tools come in:

Since 2004 I have been keeping a series of To-Do Books. They are the classic 32-page, 7mm ruled Exercise Books with a Canadian map on them; I believe children practice writing in those; those exercise books are relics sort of. I’ve been using them (am on book 6) to write down tasks I had to do. All tasks fit into either the Career/Academic column or Personal/Hobby one. It works, folks. When I’m not at home, I jot stuff down in the Gmail tasks feature – it’s split into work/career activities and personal/whatever lists.

I downloaded Awesome Note for my iPhone, which I love, and which is helping me manage various types of lists, from what to buy at Shoppers Drugmart to Business Books I want to read to longer-term professional and personal goals.

I love me wall Calendar and scribbling in the little squares. I’ve a weekly Organizer which is something I miss from the days of school – weekly agenda with homework, appointments, dates, parties, and big due dates.

Every evening i prepare my Daily To-do post-it. It’s usually for the day ahead type a thing – key tasks and pressing issues that need to be resolved. Usually no more than 3-5 tasks, although I personally find that if I overwhelm myself I’m more likely to start working on them at 10am instead of waiting till 2pm on a Sunday afternoon.

When I feel that I won’t be able to make the most of the groceries in the fridge, I sometimes write out meal plans. But they’re the least successful as I scramble things around.

NOW. That does not mean that I never relax. I also plan Days of Nothing, where my biggest task for the day is to go to a spa, make my way to a coffee shop, or just walk for at least 30 minutes.

I don’t beat myself over uncompleted tasks, some of which have been known to carry on from page to page in my To Do Book for weeks!

PS. One more blog post tomorrow and my blog-writing will equal that of August 2009. This December I will try to beat last December’s numbers, but 17 entries is a lot and I want to enjoy my time with the family.

Winter Wonderland

Much like spring this year caused a surge of excitement and eagerness, winter’s appeal is growing too. I’ve always loved  snow and holidays, always highly anticipated as the break between school, sleeping in, reading in bed, snow angels and making elaborate snow men. But this year something special is happening. I’m really excited about winter, despite the irritating cold it will bring with it.

I don’t ski or snowboard, so sporty frolicking in the snow is not really an option (BUT I am willing to learn how to snowboard if anyone is going). To me winter means: snow, Christmas, red Starbucks cups, snuggling in bed, dinner parties, movie nights, winter beer (Innis & Gunn ftw), presents, going to Vancouver to see family, Bugs Tomato in a ridiculous Santa outfit, high school friends and old faces, sleepy snowy evenings, reading annual summaries (this year will be full of celebrity deaths and other craziness), writing my own summaries, setting goals, finding ways to accessorize that boring sweater, spending more time in the gym, plowing through the bookshelves, writing, cooking, spending more time at neighbors’, pomegranates, mandarins, way too much napping, frenzied dancing and more…

This year I don’t have any pressing exams, 8am classes this year, or all-weekend study sessions planned this year. I get to fully enjoy my cup of tea, the snow dance, the clean and white streets. I await the winter in its truest, most elegant, least overwhelming manifestation.

30 Min Wonder Walk

I love walking. More than that, I love walking in (downtown) Toronto. Last month I decided that – as much as possible, – I will walk from work to home. The walk is 3.0km, from Yorkville’s Bay & Bloor to Chinatown’s residence of mine. Some days I leave work at 6pm, tired or mildly frustrated (work is never stressful… yet ), but 5 minutes into the walk, I lighten up.By the time I get home, I’m skipping a little to my music, I smile to myself and all you passers-by, and damn, I’m just happy to be alive.

I also LOVE you Toronto. I’ve a feeling you love me back. But every time I walk this little route, I just feel it more and more, and if I had to settle in Canada, I’d probably settle here.

I walk west on Bloor and smile at the sun that sets right against my eyes, and I look at beautiful or gaudy things in the window shops. I understand why (target buying demographic) there are old, square and absurd jackets in the Chanel display and why Gucci reeks of slut, and why Lacoste is borderline soro/fraternity preppy (there’s another angle to this). It doesn’t matter – by the time I pass the Royal Conservatory, I’m enamored with fleets of Rolls Royce, Jaguar, BMW, Audi; there are valet figurines everywhere. Ah, smile smile smile on.

Jocks on the football field, Rotman, Bata shoe museum. Every time I walk down St George, I am reminded of my UBC days. But this is better because I don’t go there anymore. I see passers-by and I can almost picture their personalities – here is a future management accounting titan, he’s wearing a mismatched shirt and tie, but the KPMG recruiters will forgive him. He listens to music that’s five years behind, but he reads all the right publications, he gets enough rest before exams and does not party on the weekend. And there’s our running athlete on the right, a beautiful freshman girl who broke up with her boyfriend when she left her small town. Toronto is a little bit intimidating, but watching Sex and the City with fellow dorm girls and running on weeknights (when there are no group meetings!) helps her forget him.

On and on. I love all these sights, and I love my city, and I love what I do, what I am, where I am, who I’m surrounded by. And so, whatever non-positive mood I was in 30 minutes ago dissipates completely, and I’m bouncing off the walls, throwing pink marshmallows in the air!

Book/Film Re-Runs

Catholic guilt is the term used to identify the supposed excess guilt felt by Catholics and lapsed Catholics. The term catholic guilt is controversial as it is not clearly differentiated from the guilt felt by members of other religions or moral codes. Says Wikipedia. This term is too strong for this post, but I use it when describing my feelings towards other things. Moreover, I’m not even Catholic.

I have a problem with watching the same film, or, worse, reading the same book, over and over and over because I’m acutely aware of the lack of time in a life (add to that the daily-changing probabilities of a sudden, tragic or freak death, accident or a negative surprise; life gets even shorter), and I feel that spending time re-reading the best book in the world will handicap me in my quest for self-development, entertainment and the general betterment.

If I get my mittens on a much beloved DVD, I don’t watch it right away (unless I’m trying to educate fellow bright minds during their visits to my pixie palace). I set it aside and feel torn between it (the personally approved) and the unseen latest and greatest (at least critically acclaimed or much-recommended, or “really important as per some weirdos” works). It’s not so difficult with films. I end up plowing through the cinematic world with no problem, catching both old and new, but rarely on repeat.

I have never re-read a book. I have absolute favorites, with highlighted passages, scribbles, smiley faces and comments in the margins, but I never read them again. I covet them, place them on display, and recommend left-right-center, but that’s it. Time is too precious. On top of that, I do remember the story line and have selected quotes written in my secret book.

I also rarely read contemporary fiction, because there is a higher probability that I won’t like it. Would I rather spend time on something that’s received a Nobel prize in Literature (check out the list, if you’ve got no author to read), something that inspires a dozen+ of other cultural pieces, or something that’s recently become a NY Times bestseller (which, by the looks of it, is every fiction book at Chapters). I pick 100 Years of Solitude over Life of Pi; I will sweat and labor over William Faulkner than surrender to Dan Brown. Does this make me some kind of a psychotic nut? Hey… I can just wait and give all this contemporary stuff 50 years and see where it gets them

In the dark ages of the past, I have been guilty of watching Titanic (I said it! I was twelve!), The Fifth Element, La Dolce Vita, 8 1/2, Hercules (Go Disney!), Coraline, The Hole very frequently. These movies are only 5% reflective of my favorites. My favorite movie of all times – Ingmar Bergman’s The Seventh Seal, – was probably watched thrice in my lifetime. That’s it. What is the correlation between favorite films/books and those that I actually watched many, many times? Probably has to do with young age and having a lot more time dedicated to havoc and idleness (although I read!) vs now.

PS. Last contemporary book I’ve read was Pride & Prejudice & Zombies (hey, it was featured in episode 1 of Heroes, Season4). And it was awesome. Can we please have more remixing of old and new? I do like some light beach reading (poetry, Lewis Carroll), don’t get me wrong.

Following Tetro

To add to my previous post, the review of Tetro – I was the youngest person in the audience, it seems. Why is it that I was the youngest person in the whole theatre? Do young people do not watch Francis Ford Coppola? Do young people have no interest in cinema? Do young people even care about themes expressed in the movie?

The whole time I was watching it, I was thinking about following my dreams, about not going with the flow, and about not settling for the average. I’ve been told by my parents and by good friends and all sorts of people that it’s all right to lower my expectations and just take whatever “best” is available at my disposal. But my disposal restrains me to one city, to downtown, to be precise. And “my disposal” is actually not a limited radius, but an ever changing circle of desires, goals and aspirations.

And not even that. I was thinking about how with time I’ve had reoccurring thoughts of “Perhaps, I should go with this, perhaps, this is all right”. On some days I’m almost ready to shut down my wanderlust and the desire to leap into the unknown. I never, never feel that this is it. Everywhere I’ve been and lived, I knew that it was all just a transitory period. No location is ever permanent, no set-up is ever to continue and to be made into a routine.

Only someone on the same path knows. The great earth is so vast, it makes people so utterly sad.
— Engo, in case 23 of the Hekigan-roku

Searching For Words

Originally uploaded by brandis78

Yesterday I was passing by Umbra, because I needed to buy a present for someone, and I slowed down considerably because I forgot the word “dragonfly” in English.

(For those that don’t know, I’m originally from Russia, and speak her language fluently, and write and read it with no problem; a few years after I moved to Canada I started thinking in English and most of my schooling was in this language as well). I remembered it in Russian of course.

Then I realized that when it comes to language and expressing myself, the simple words come to me quicker in Russian – that is, words I learned when I was a child, words that are hardwired in my brain. They come to me in my native tongue first, so that I sometimes have to think hard before naming a ladle or watermelon to an English speaker.

On another hand, words that I learned later in life, that I used most or originally understood in English, arrive in my brain in English, and take enough seconds to mentally locate their Russian counterparts. That is why I struggle when explaining bigger concepts involving brand management, mergers & acquisitions or exasperation in Russian to my parents. Takes forever to translate the big ticker words to them.

Now, if only I learned all kinds of words when I was younger – in whichever language came first, – then I’d have less mental pauses… Nah, it’s not so bad, really. But I do struggle with occasional vegetable or grain naming, and I completely suck at naming birds.

As Sally says, “There are two kinds of birds in Karin’s world. Ducks, and birds.”

Marshall McLuhan is immortal… or something

“The past went that-away. When faced with a totally new situation, we tend to always attach ourselves to the objects, to the flavor of the most recent past. We look at the present through a rear-view mirror. We march backwards into the future. Suburbia lives imaginatively in Bonanza-land.”

…from The Medium is the Massage (1967). And it had to do with his communication theory. But that work touched upon so many other aspects.

Indeed, don’t we spend too much time going back, comparing, and repeating scenes from the past? Mostly, we humans tend to stick to the past as we tippy-toe into tomorrow. Constant analysis, checks, and verifications.

I got better at jumping forward without thinking much about the past. On one hand, that’s great as I jump into experiences with an open mind; on the other, that may suggest that I don’t take into account lessons from the past and run forward anyway.

In either case, without a proper cost-benefit analysis and a necessary dip into the past, one simply would not be able to make proper decisions. Past is past, you can’t completely give it up; you just can’t always check back with it, and compare memories (there are a lot of issues with this, but we’ll save that for another post) with the present and future possibilities.

I find it’s simply a constant struggle to embrace, welcome and cultivate self-taught acceptance and even love of change. Like swimming up the river, salmon-stylez.

Bragging About Education Is Totally Acceptable

“Winning is not everything, but wanting to win is.” Vince Lombardi

I’ve been transcribing last term’s successes as well as its struggles on Twitter for the past four months now, but I’m done now, and would like to dedicate this post to my Bachelor of Commerce degree. I graduate with a 3.62 GPA, which likely puts me in a good position to apply to grad schools. I have not picked any specific programs yet, but they’ll most likely revolve around an MFA or a mix of MFA + MBA. Something new, something useful in tackling the future where I’ll be spending a lot of time.

It’s been a crazy ride, featuring Sauder School of Business (at UBC) and the Ted Rogers School of Management (Ryerson). Transferring credits set my graduation back one year, but no matter. Below I list some of the most valuable courses of my undergrad years for the skills they taught me and for personal and professional roads they opened:

1. Strategic Management – an amazing course taught by Steve Gedeon at Ryerson. The professor drilled into our heads the real value behind essentialization, or selecting and communicating most valuable information for decision-making purposes.  Answering the “So what” question is the second element that helped me to write stellar business plans and get my point across.
2. Modern and Postmodern Art - this course dipped me into the pool of beautiful as deeply as possible. I love them because not only did I learn about the key players of last century’s art scene, but I also discovered an infinite web of connections between pop culture, film, business and politics. And I try to keep tabs on my knowledge of art history.
3. Marketing Communications – mostly due to our dynamic professor Marla Spergel, I really enjoyed this course and got a taste of the advertising world. And also made a final and total decision to become part of it (the new advertising, v. 2.0 if you will).
4. Philosophy of Love and Sex – thank gods we got to pick electives; this course made me feel like I went through really amazing therapy sessions. Learned about multi-dimensional relationship dynamics, digged into the depths of “what is love and to love” questions and had the pleasure of working with one of the best and most entertaining professors I ever encountered – James Cunningham.
5. Industry Analysis – a.k.a. the economics of strategy. One of the hardest courses I’ve taken, full of readings and theory, it helped me grasp a better sense of strategy and market dynamics, made me want to read books on war, find joy in writing industry reports and standing my ground. The final A+ industry report I wrote is going into my portfolio of accomplishments.
6. Introduction to Quantitative Decision Making and Application of Statistics in Business – I combine these two classes into one, because they go back to back and are heavily related. Although I struggled through its first part, I cannot ignore its value because almost every finance-laden project and marketing plan needs it. I can also optimize with this baby and fight uncertainty. What a warrior. Stats will haunt us all forever.
7. Ethics in Finance – it sparked my interest in the markets that spreads beyond course content. It also set my ethical beliefs in a more responsible direction. Learned the root of the recent economic crisis and sincerely began to care for sustainable business practices, all thanks to the awesome Dr. Allen Goss.
8. Academic Writing - goes in hand with #1 because you need to be damn able to write coherently if you tamper with complex topics. Especially when your page limit is 10 and you have to communicate the essence of at least 40.

PS. 100th blog post

We Got 5 Years

5 years ago, when I was 17 and about to finish high school – first let me tell you, it was an exciting time because I was a genius in History 12, secured two hot career preparation program placements, got into the university of my choice, had a rockstar boyfriend, grand plans, read the some of the most influential books and was just so happy to reach the peak of my teenage days, – I wrote a collection of prose poetry a la Dreamtigers (you can read parts right here!).

Called From A Dreamtiger, with its mantelpiece is My Baby Krishna (the pictured object on the left), the collection centers on my perceptions of colors, relationships between numbers, memories of friends of the past, and travels. I was really proud of it because it was my first non-childish collection of pieces that really channeled . My writing instructors liked them, as well as MFA writing candidates that I used to talk to a lot. Back then I used to say that every five years I feel like writing about things from the past, and I will probably write about 2004 five years down the road.

In the past month I started to recall more and more little and big things from roughly 5 years ago – events, details, light, people, words exchanged. I remember the walks to the theatre in the falling snow, picnics in the forest, writing papers on the horrors of The Satyricon, frantically trying to comprehend the stock market in a race to win, Spanish visitors, multiple bars in Vancouver with equally multiple sins and vices, music and music and music, the film and modeling, bright future, eternal union, new member of the family, utter confusion borne out of fear of loss and changes, and more and more, expressed in frail and sensitive terms.

I feel the coming of the second chapter of my recollections, which I will add to the first and start looking for publishing opportunities.