Hey, twenty-something – do you still live at home?

The documentary "Generation Boomerang" explores the wider implications of what happens when adult children just won't leave the roost. (CBC)

Watch the full documentary here. (Runs: 45:11)

From the documentary web page:
“GENERATION BOOMERANG examines why so many of today’s young adults are slow to launch.  The reality is that getting ahead today requires post-secondary education, leaving many young people heavily in debt.  And finding a job is tough.  In Canada, the unemployment rate for 15 to 24 year olds sits at 14% — double what it is for the general population.

But those aren’t the only reasons young adults are choosing to remain under mom and dad’s roof.  (Keep reading …)

———————————————————————————————————-

A room of my own. (Fabiola Carletti)

My father wants me to come home. He thinks I live in a sort of self-imposed purgatory.

He visits my small bachelor apartment in downtown Toronto, absent-mindedly opens my barren cupboards, and turns to me with a concerned look on his face.

“Are you sure you like living by yourself?” he asks.

As the 26-year-old, unmarried daughter of Salvadoran immigrants, I am an anomaly. I have travelled across Canada, gone away for school, and have returned to my home city only to settle downtown on my own.

Growing up, I saw my parents struggling as new Canadians and I knew, from a very young age, that I wanted to ease the burden on them. I take pride in my independence. I funded my own education. I pay my own rent without help. I save so that I can support them when they need it later in life.

(Please don’t mistake this for bragging. I know how lucky I am, and I don’t take any of it for granted. Everything is half chance. Everything can change at any time.)

But my dad has a different take on it. He doesn’t see me as a burden. I’m the kid that got away. For him, there’s no shame in coming back.

He frequently reminds me that there’s room for me at home, where my younger sister, younger brother and three male cousins live. He would love to have me around — eating food, using water, living rent-free — despite his own ballooning debt. It’s a whole other framework.

My little kitchen. (Fabiola Carletti)

That’s why, for me, it was kind of amusing and odd to watch the Generation Boomerang documentary. Although they profile Hispanic and Italian families that expect their kids to stay home, the so-called ‘norm’ was still centered on white, middle-class families that are a little alarmed at their adult children’s ability to hang on — even if they can financially support them.

Jane Adams and Paul Lermitte, for instance, have told their sons that they must go forth and prosper by the age of 25.

I highly recommend you watch the 45-minute documentary and consider some of the nuances. Yes, there are young adults who could use a reality check and some tough love, but there’s more to it than that.

My generation is facing an entirely different economic reality — a rising cost of living, fewer job prospects, and an eroding social safety net. We are graduating with record debts, delaying major life decisions, and longing for things as ill-defined as self-fulfillment and happiness. (I have no job security as a casual at the CBC, and if the shifts stop coming, it wouldn’t be long before I’d consider packing my bags.)

But despite all its challenges, this is our time.

I hope people at least understand our complex inner lives and outer circumstances before writing off all adult kids who stay home as “Bamboccionis” (big babies) or “Yuckies” (Young, Unwitting, Costly Kids).

Although I am out on my own for now, and proud of it, I am also grateful that going home is truly an option. As the German poet Christian Morgenstern once wrote, “home is not where you live, but where they understand you.”

—–
Update: I’ve been having some great conversations about this and, as soon as I can, I’ll add some points I discussed with others. Here’s a rough sketch of what I want to expand upon:

• The documentary does not really explore situations in which adult children are the opposite of a drain. When they’re contributing members of the household, it is actually a boon. (They almost get into it with the British mom and daughter, but the emphasis is still on what the mom is sacrificing — like an empty nest where she can watch black and white movies.)
• They mention but don’t spend much time on the notion that this generation is closer to their parents than ever before. This closeness is mostly discussed as if the kids are being coddled — but empathetic friendships between parents and kids are a powerful thing, and are good for everyone.
• This point is allowed to sit without being unpacked: it is implied that men who live or return home should feel worse about it than women in their situation. In the doc, two young women who live at home say they wouldn’t date a guy unless he was out on his own. It’s an interesting double-standard, no?
• Connected to the last point: the delicate question of sex. One man points out that he has to sleep on the couch when his fiance stays over, and one young woman says that she wouldn’t date a guy at home because, “where would we sleep?”

I’ll ponder these points and expand on them. For now, let me know what you think!

My reverse New Year’s resolutions begin today

Jan. 1st 2010 in New York City.

Today is the first day of November, and I’ve already got my New Year’s resolutions up on my wall.

You see, this winter I’m embarking on three reverse resolutions: instead of planning out what I will do after midnight on January 1st, 2012, I’m making that same date my official deadline.

New Year’s resolutions usually last about as long as the leftover cake. There is no shortage of articles out there that lay out common pitfalls. Here are a few I’ve come across:

• Resolutions are usually too vague: Most people rely on what the New York Times called “old standbys,” like getting out of debt, saving more, losing weight or getting organized. “The typical resolution often reflects a general desire, rather than a specific goal,” writes Tara Parker-Pope.
• People take on too many resolutions at a time: Parker-Pope cites studies that suggest willpower is a limited resource. If you’re trying to find the time to improve in all categories, you’re much more likely to become overwhelmed and improve in none.
• Midnight magic goes flat faster than champagne: There are plenty of cultural artifacts depicting New Year’s Eve as an enchanted night. We count down, we kiss, we gather around shiny things, but when we wake up a few hours later, we’re still the same lazy goofs we were “last year” — except maybe a little more hung over than usual.
• Even if you hit the ground running, it’s hard to stay motivated: Ian Sample of The Guardian writes that when people falter, they quickly become disillusioned. They then focus on the downside of their resolutions instead of the resolve that first inspired them.

On the flip side, those who do succeed in making a change usually:

• Break their goals into smaller, measurable steps.
• Periodically reward themselves for making progress.
• Announce their plans publicly or work with others.
• Focus on the benefits of the change instead of the difficulties.

Now, this is all common sense, but the trick is making it personal practice.

To test my resolve, I have selected three reasonable goals to take on for the next two months. In the spirit of committing publicly, here they are.

Here are my resolutions, prominently posted. (Fabiola Carletti)

1. I will make my lunch every night before work. I will stop lying to myself about doing it in the morning. I’ll save money and be able to put much more thought into what I eat. And I won’t spend my short breaks standing in mind-numbing lineups.
2. I will read one book per month. That means two books by January. I spend so much time reading daily/weekly/monthly publications that I seldom find time for a texts that have, well, chapters. This goal is totally doable. I will read some books I really want to read, and not the ones that I think I should be reading. (The latter usually end up abandoned before the halfway point.)
3. I will mindfully exercise three times a week. This will be a significant leap from my sporadic bike rides now. I’ll walk home from work at least once a week, bike until it gets too cold out, and power dance in my room if it comes down to it. (Uh, don’t picture that last one.) This is, admittedly, my vaguest goal and the one I will have most difficulty with. The good news is that I want to be healthier, not skinnier, so I won’t be weighing myself and all that stressful nonsense. Instead, I’ll put my fingers on my neck and try to normal respiratory rate faster.

If all this goes according to plan, I’ll blog about how well I did on the first day of the new year. Then, as a reward, I’ll allow myself to sleep in and have cake for breakfast.

If that’s not incentive, I don’t know what is.

BTW: Are you interested in taking on some reverse resolutions? I could sure use the solidarity. Let me know in the comments.

Life without ‘net. Amen. (Or, my accidental internet detox)

In a kind of happy accident, I find myself living without the wonders of the Internet. Yes, saying so on my blog is like calling to tell you I don’t have a phone, but I’ll explain.

I recently moved into a great little apartment in the heart of the city and, after years of unfettered access, I simply assumed the Internet was part of everything included.

Soon after I moved in, I had the urge to faff around on facebook instead of unpacking — so I text my landlord: “I’ve been meaning to ask you what the wifi password and network are.”

“Que?” he wrote back.

I nearly dropped my phone in horror. No Internet? This was how I reacted:

Well, it’s been a couple weeks now, and I still have not done anything to remedy the situation.

I must qualify by saying I’m not completely deprived. In a pinch, I can do things on my iPhone, and my current day job keeps me in front of a computer, connected to the world, as I read, write, repeat for eight hours at a time.

But since I’m far too busy at work to use Facebook socially or stream a quick youtube video, it’s not the access I have while in bunny slippers at home. (Not that I own a pair or anything…) Also, browsing on my phone is like riding a fat pony when I’m used to a stallion.

I instead of scrounging for internet, I discovered a few things. Here’s a short list:

• I live in an immensely walkable neighbourhood.
• I love me a good graphic novel.
• Reading a tangible newspaper is actually quite satisfying.
• It’s nice to have people over for long, unhurried visits.
• It’s not that terrifying to ride my bike through busy downtown streets.
• I like to cook – even do dishes! – while listening to my cheap little AM/FM radio.
• My dusty university books have some pretty funny notes in the margins.
• That box of old pictures is full of classic stuff (What possessed me to collect a bunch of my friends’ baby pictures when I was 15? And why did they give them to me? Awesome.)

Basically, I’m like a giraffe in quicksand who’s starting to appreciate the view from here. That analogy will only make sense if you watch this:

Okay, let’s get real. I’m no luddite and I am definitely going to get the Internet back in the very near future. I’ve been terrible at updating my blog and I’ve probably been unfollowed by many an impatient tweep, but it must also be said that this inadvertent sojourn has been … pretty damn cool.

My eureka moment was embarrassingly simple: you can do a lot when your fingers aren’t on a keyboard.

Again, I realize that I’m on the internet right now. I’m easing my way back in, okay? But I’m also at a coffee shop and a guy with a guitar just set up his mic, so I think I’ll get off the wifi and pay attention.

Until ‘net time!

Book Review: Will the Real Alberta Please Stand Up?

Now online: My book review of “Will The Real Alberta Please Stand Up?” by Geo Takach

Published by This magazine.

Here’s an excerpt:

Pop quiz: which major Canadian city elected a progressive, Muslim, Harvard-educated mayor last year? The answer is Calgary, and if you find this at all surprising, you may have some assumptions to explore with Geo Takach.

The Quebec born author, who moved to Alberta as a teen, has long been fascinated with the mythologies unique to Wild Rose Country. In a quest both serious and silly, with Will the Real Alberta Please Stand Up? he makes observations, mines documents, and interviews both public figures (Preston Manning, Martha Kostuch) and private folk of all persuasions.

(Continue reading …)

 

Thesis writing with George Orwell

Image by ckOrange on Flickr

I sit alone at the kitchen table, pressing my palms against my eye sockets and muttering curse words.

I’m working on a file called thesis_stuff.doc and, as its name indicates, it is a jumble of incomplete ideas, arbitrary categories, and facetious footnotes that no one else will ever read.

“Just put your ideas down in plain English,” says a ghostly voice. “Have you read my essay on politics and the English language?”

I look up to see a phantom with kind eyes and a neat mustache. Eric Arthur Blair, better known as George Orwell, is sitting across from me.

“How long is it?” I ask, eyeing the clock above his head. He raises an eyebrow.

“Alright, alright,” I say, bringing up an electronic copy. “But I’m going to share some of the passages that stand out to me. I haven’t updated my blog in several days.”

“Blog?…” says Orwell, squinting an eye.

“Yeah, one of the few things you didn’t predict,” I laughed.

Orwell rose from the table and handed me a typewritten note.

“That’s fine, but make sure to include these general rules. They will help you in most cases,” he said.

REMEMBER:

1. Never use a metaphor, simile, or other figure of speech which you are used to seeing in print.
2. Never use a long word where a short one will do.
3. If it is possible to cut a word out, always cut it out.
4. Never use the passive where you can use the active.
5. Never use a foreign phrase, a scientific word, or a jargon word if you can think of an everyday English equivalent.
6. Break any of these rules sooner than say anything outright barbarous.

Ask yourself at least four questions:

1. What am I trying to say?
2. What words will express it?
3. What image or idiom will make it clearer?
4. Is this image fresh enough to have an effect?

Now, ask yourself two more:

1. Could I put it more shortly?
2. Have I said anything that is avoidably ugly?

I look up to see that Orwell, like the last specter that visited me, has vanished before I was finished with him. Luckily, his words remain.

EXCERPTS FROM “POLITICS AND THE ENGLISH LANGUAGE“
By: George Orwell

As soon as certain topics are raised, the concrete melts into the abstract and no one seems able to think of turns of speech that are not hackneyed: prose consists less and less of words chosen for the sake of their meaning, and more and more of phrases tacked together like the sections of a prefabricated hen-house.

The word Fascism has now no meaning except in so far as it signifies ‘something not desirable’. The words democracy, socialism, freedom, patriotic, realistic, justice have each of them several different meanings which cannot be reconciled with one another. In the case of a word like democracy, not only is there no agreed definition, but the attempt to make one is resisted from all sides.

…modern writing at its worst does not consist in picking out words for the sake of their meaning and inventing images in order to make the meaning clearer. It consists in gumming together long strips of words which have already been set in order by someone else, and making the results presentable by sheer humbug.

It is easier — even quicker, once you have the habit — to say ‘In my opinion it is not an unjustifiable assumption that’ than to say ‘I think.’

The sole aim of a metaphor is to call up a visual image. When these images clash — as in The Fascist octopus has sung its swan song, the jackboot is thrown into the melting pot — it can be taken as certain that the writer is not seeing a mental image of the objects he is naming; in other words he is not really thinking.

In our time it is broadly true that political writing is bad writing. Where it is not true, it will generally be found that the writer is some kind of rebel, expressing his private opinions and not a ‘party line’. Orthodoxy, of whatever colour, seems to demand a lifeless, imitative style.

In our time, political speech and writing are largely the defence of the indefensible [...] Millions of peasants are robbed of their farms and sent trudging along the roads with no more than they can carry: this is called transfer of population or rectification of frontiers [...] Such phraseology is needed if one wants to name things without calling up mental pictures of them.

What is above all needed is to let the meaning choose the word, and not the other way around. In prose, the worst thing one can do with words is surrender to them.

If you simplify your English, you are freed from the worst follies of orthodoxy. You cannot speak any of the necessary dialects, and when you make a stupid remark its stupidity will be obvious, even to yourself. Political language — and with variations this is true of all political parties, from Conservatives to Anarchists — is designed to make lies sound truthful and murder respectable, and to give an appearance of solidity to pure wind.

TWITTER FEEDBACK

"Thesis writing with George Orwell" – excellent post by @FierceFab. Politics and the English Language is brilliant. http://bit.ly/fMg81l—
Lauren O'Nizzle (@laurenonizzle) January 07, 2011

@FierceFab You might enjoy my take on Orwell's essay http://j.mp/ewJZWY Hope you'll follow, if you do—
Martin Shovel (@MartinShovel) December 17, 2010

‘Tis the season to be scholarly

There's no denying it, baby. It's time to hit the books. (Photo by Mish Mish on Flickr)

Okay, here’s the thing: I really have to work over the holiday break.

I’m not going to lie, I would be happier eating warm cookies, drinking cold milk, and watching old movies – but the angel on my shoulder says, “you’d better work on that thesis if you know what’s good for ya, kid.”

(Did I mention my winged advisor is a wise guy named Lou?)

It’s not that I haven’t worked hard this semester — my roommate, for one, can attest to my self-chastising strategies — but I did spread myself too thinly this past semester. As a result, my thesis project  has thawed in a shadow beside the back-burner, and now I have to make up for it before the spring version of Fabiola curses the useless yuletide loafer.

I was thinking about this while clearing my email backlog today (classic stalling) and came across this topical gem from a friend, who recommended a read of Edgar Allen Poe’s The Imp of the Perverse

Here’s an excerpt about procrastination:

We have a task before us which must be speedily performed. We know that it will be ruinous to make delay. The most important crisis of our life calls, trumpet-tongued, for immediate energy and action. We glow, we are consumed with eagerness to commence the work, with the anticipation of whose glorious result our whole souls are on fire. It must, it shall be undertaken to-day, and yet we put it off until to-morrow; and why? There is no answer, except that we feel perverse, using the word with no comprehension of the principle.

To-morrow arrives, and with it a more impatient anxiety to do our duty, but with this very increase of anxiety arrives, also, a nameless, a positively fearful, because unfathomable, craving for delay. This craving gathers strength as the moments fly.

The last hour for action is at hand. We tremble with the violence of the conflict within us, – of the definite with the indefinite – of the substance with the shadow.  But, if the contest has proceeded thus far, it is the shadow which prevails, – we struggle in vain.

The clock strikes, and is the knell of our welfare.  At the same time, it is the chanticleer-note to the ghost that has so long over-awed us.  It flies – it disappears – we are free.  The old energy returns.  We will labour now.

Alas, it is too late!

Gee, thanks Poe. You sure know how to give me hope for the future. I can add this to my secret stash of comics that come eerily close to describing how I feel, but also make me think it’s normal to hide under a table in fetal position — an approach I’m pretty sure my thesis supervisors wouldn’t be keen on.

So, in an attempt to resist the culture cache that rationalizes my stalling — and to reach out to my fellow thesis-ninjas — here are some notes from “On Intellectual Craftsmanship” by C. Wright Mills, who has a few more constructive things to say:

“By keeping an adequate file and thus developing self-reflective habits, you learn how  to keep your inner world awake. Whenever you feel strongly about events or ideas you must try not to let them pass from your mind, but instead formulate them for your files and in so doing draw out their implications, show yourself either how foolish these feelings or ideas are, or how they might be articulated into productive shape.”

“Empirical projects necessary to my kind of work must promise, first, to have relevance for their first draft…they have to confirm it in its original form or they have to cause its modification. Or to put it more pretentiously, they must have implications for theoretical constructions. Second, the projects must be efficient and neat and, if possible, ingenious. By this I mean they must promise to yield a great deal of material in proportion to the time and effort they involve.”

“You do not really have to study a topic you are working on…once you are into it, it is everywhere…you must cling to such vague ideas and notions, if they are yours, and you must work them out. For it is in such forms that original ideas, if any, almost always first appear.”

“One of the things meant by ‘being soaked in the literature’ is being able to locate the opponents and friends of every available viewpoint…know when you ought to read and when you ought not to.”

“In many academic circles today anyone who tries to write in a widely intelligible way is liable to be condemned as a ‘mere literary man’ or, worse still, ‘a mere journalist.’” (This is just cheeky of me to include, but … it is what it is!)

“To write is to raise a claim for the attention of readers…To write is to claim for oneself enough status to be read.”

You can’t misspell DUMBBELL and come out feeling good

(Please note: Instead of correcting the mistakes detected in this blog post, I’m bolding everything that the wordpress proofreader underlines. Believe me, it’ll take all of my willpower to avoid correcting the errors, but I need to know if this exercise will result in rehabilitation or public shaming.)

Contemplating the dumbbells. By Jen and Tony Bot on Flickr.

 

“Of course I can spell — I’m a goddamn journalist.”

Those sound like famous last words, don’t they?

Well, either way, it’s what I said to myself before the phone-administered spelling test I took today (the second part of an interview process for a summer reporting job). In hindsight, the comment was a perfect example of delusionary self-aggrandizing.

Alright, I’m being somewhat melodramatic. I did okay (got about 70 per cent) – but that’s not the crappy part. What sucks is that (a) I thought I’d do really well and (b) I misspelled relatively simple words like “dumbbell” and “ingenious.” (I know. I know.) To be honest, I didn’t even think to peruse the dictionary, nor did I google “commonly misspelled words.”

I figured the lexical litmus test would be both accurate and favourable. (<—But proofreader, I’m Canadian! We’re in favour of the ‘u.’ )

Now, I kind of feel like a chef’s apprentice who burned the souffle (<—phew! I was unsure about that one as I typed!)

The point: I guess I never really stopped to think about how much of my grammatical prowess is computer-generated.

Those squiggly red lines and check-marked buttons are trusted allies that I’m sure many of us take for granted.  I frequently google things that I’m certain I’m messing up, but I don’t worry because a friendly “Did you mean …?” will link me to my properly spelled destination.

Not too long ago, I started to hand-write a letter and then decided to type it up and print it out instead. Why? Because it’s easier to click “accept change” than it is to track down that ancient substance called white-out. Also “does that look right?” is probably not something you should be asking yourself every three sentences.

(As you’ve probably noticed, this exercise isn’t getting me anywhere. It is, after all, a self-administered test … and I’m [sub]consciously shying away from things I can’t spell.)

Dang it.

Well, I guess I can find solace in the fact that auto-correct isn’t always helpful (See the blog: DAMN YOU, AUTO CORRECT!) and that I will be filing my stories on a trusty computer.

Still, if I ever get stranded on a remote island and I put my memoirs in a bottle for posterity, please have someone look them over — lest I be remembered as a sub-par speller.

In closing, if these kids can recover from their mishaps, so can I!

TWITTER FEEDBACK

Confessions of a dumbell http://bit.ly/hDeVvI now posted on new kids on the blog @torontostar—
Roger Gillespie (@RogerGillespie) December 10, 2010

@FierceFab Loved your dumbbell post. Witty and relatable. I tweet you my empathy.—
Dylan C. Robertson (@dylan_robertson) December 18, 2010

@dylan_robertson Thank you! And, well, at least shame is a good adhesive — the words I misspelled will stick in my mind.—
Fabiola Carletti (@FierceFab) December 20, 2010

That’s two weeks for rookie at the Globe & Mail B.C.

"You are what you read" -- a snapshot of the Globe and a cup of tea by smallestbones on Flickr

When you spend a lot of time psyching yourself up for something — as I did, before my two-week work/study at the Globe and Mail — it’s kind of discombobulating to come out the other end.

On my last day, as I stepped into the crisp November air, I couldn’t help but say out loud, “So … that’s it then?”

It’s incredible how quickly 14 work days can whiz by.

I’m only starting to process some of the lessons I learned — which are numerous considering the brevity of the experience — but I already have a clearer picture of the skills I have and the ones I need to sharpen.

(Here’s an example: It’s a skill to be able to diplomatically ask a question over and over and over again until you actually get an answer. Awkward, perhaps, but you either get the key information or exhaust all your options. Sometimes the answer is that there is no answer, in which case you find out why that is.)

Each day was filled with variety. I filed details from the scene of a fire on my iPhone, I learned about different breeds of goat, I interviewed academics, politicians and CEOs, and I also had frequent opportunities to meet the big names behind the bylines.

Okay, I have to admit to chickening out when John Stackhouse ventured from Toronto to an area roughly five steps away from my desk. I had this mental image of strolling up to him with an outstretched hand – “Mr. Stackhouse, what a pleasure — I, sir, am your B.C. intern.” … but by the time I thought of something less doofy to say, he was nowhere in sight.

There’s a lesson! “Relax – people be people.” (That eloquent slang is courtesy of my younger brother.)

One of the most interesting challenges was to write about issues as opposed to events. Although it was difficult to come to grips with the complexities of things like shelter system in Vancouver or needle management in B.C., this practicum was a wonderful reminder of just how much I’m going to be learning while wearing my press hat.

It seems like a wealth of accumulated knowledge just spills out of great reporters, and social trends just auto-compute in their brains. Egad! I want that sheen of experience . . .

So, final thought then: I’m grateful that I got to try things out at the Globe for two weeks. Sure, I’m quite behind in all of my classes, but I’ve come out ahead in many other important ways. It reminds me of when my dad saw me reading the Ontario driver’s manual and handed me the car keys.

“Let’s just go for a spin. That’ll teach you.”

Well said, dad. Well said.

—–

Now, for the files, here are some stories I wrote in my second week:

Buying a house? Avoid the number 4

Fabiola Carletti. Globe and Mail Update. Published Friday, Nov. 26, 2010 8:23PM EST. Last updated Friday, Nov. 26, 2010 8:28PM EST …

History of needle management in B.C.

Nov 26, 2010… have been picked up – although 300 needles were collected by city staff in Kelowna parks between March and October. Fabiola Carletti …

Police identify charred human remains found in Surrey ravine – The …

Police identify charred human remains found in Surrey ravine. Fabiola Carletti. Globe and Mail Update. Published Wednesday, Nov. 24, 2010 8:38PM EST …

Fire breaks out at Vancouver Christmas market

FABIOLA CARLETTI. Vancouver— Globe and Mail Update. Published Wednesday, Nov. 24 , 2010 2:20PM EST. Last updated Thursday, Nov. 25, 2010 4:30AM EST …

B.C. thefts give new meaning to ‘getting your goat’

FABIOLA CARLETTI. From Wednesday’s Globe and Mail. Published Tuesday, Nov. 23, 2010 9:13PM EST. Last updated Tuesday, Nov. 23, 2010 10:53PM EST …

On birthdays and bylines

Someone sent this to me many moons ago. Alas, I do not have a source. Please let me know if you've seen this image copyrighted somewhere.

I’m halfway through my two-week stint at the Globe and Mail’s B.C. bureau … and I’m also a year older.

No, I’m not saying my work/study position has rapidly aged me. My actual birthday did come and go on Friday.

It was an interesting week, to say the least. Every day, I’d arrive at the Globe at 8:30 a.m., read the paper, research, write, repeat, and go home at around 5:00 p.m. Then, I’d eat dinner and work on any number of school-related things… not the least of which is my documentary for TV class.

I was averaging about 4 hours of sleep a night, and as the week went on, I started to feel more and more stressed out and exhausted.

By the time Friday (my birthday) came around, all I wanted to do was have a full night’s rest … and maybe a bubble bath.

(But alas, I have no bubble potion.)

Don’t feel too bad for me, though. I partied with 300 people at Science World last year and made headlines for it, so I’d say I’m cool with skipping a celebration this year. My mom did all the work 25 years ago anyway. I just showed up.

Also, something really “career-cool” happened! I had a national byline in the paper! My story was on A12 in the Vancouver version, my mom saw it on A13 in Toronto, and other friends in Montreal and Calgary saw it as well. Not a bad birthday present!

Best of all, the story is about an important issue: adequate shelter space so that people aren’t forced to sleep on the streets this winter. Period.

B.C.’s cold weather sparks concerns about adequate shelter space …

FABIOLA CARLETTI. VANCOUVER— From Saturday’s Globe and Mail. Published Friday, Nov. 19, 2010 8:27PM EST. Last updated Friday, Nov. 19, 2010 8:46PM EST …

An iPhone shot of my national byline in the Globe and Mail

At some point, though, I’d better sit down and reflect on what it means to have hit the middle mark in my 20s. A big part of this is figuring out what kind of a journalist I really want to be. All I know is that I would be happy to write more stories like the one above. If I can keep on contributing to discussions about the important issues of the day, I’d say that’s a pretty decent future.

Despite all the stress I’ve felt this November, I’m counting my blessings and coming up rich.

Here are some other stories I wrote last week:

• Goldcorp donates $5-million to affordable housing

  FABIOLA CARLETTI. From Friday’s Globe and Mail. Published Thursday, Nov. 18, 2010 10:15PM EST. Last updated Friday, Nov. 19, 2010 3:18PM EST …

• Vancouver man seriously injured in early morning shooting – The …
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The tyranny of to-do lists

Blogs are like plants: they need to be watered or they will shrivel up and die.
(Excuse me while I strain this metaphor.)

Dear readers: I keep my blog alive with words, but today my watering can is empty. Still, I promised myself I would post something and I just can’t leave that darn item unchecked on today’s to-do list.

That’s right, today’s to-do list. I write one almost every single day.

 

This is not the kind of stuff you make up.

 

And, on top of this craziness, I have a master to-do list that keeps all my bigger commitments nice and itemized while I chip away at daily minutiae. Two days ago, I sort of panicked looking at this semester, which ends in early December:

First Semester (in no particular order, or grammatical structure.)

1. Two-week stint at the Globe and Mail: weeks of Nov. 15 and Nov. 22
2. Web design for Peter Klein’s shrimp project from last year
3. TA work for the iJournalism course re: wordpress and blogging
4. The behemoth (a.k.a. my thesis research — revised proposal, lit review, secure a secondary advisor)
5. My final external course (reading, assignments, presentation, paper…)
6. Mini-documentary on feminist bellydancers for the Tyee in conjunction with Advanced TV (factor in hours upon hours of shooting and editing)
7. Freelance book review for THIS magazine (Due by Halloween)
8. Auditing & doing reading for Candis’ Environmental Journalism course
9. Joe’s colloquium (reading, presentation)
10. Having Andrew visit for 5 days
11. Community involvement at Green College (Media committee & Green team)
12. Maintaining my online presence
13. Miscellaneous small projects (Ex: video editing Candis’ recent talk for the school website)

I hear 13 is a lucky number in some cultures, but I’m thinking it’s a little harsh.

Other than my beau’s upcoming visit (which I am deliriously excited about) there’s nothing on this list that has to do with friends, family, having a social life or eating candy. (Mmmm, candy.)

And when I got sick this morning and lay in bed agonizing, I actually had a dream about losing my to-do list … and I’m fairly sure it ended with the apocalypse and/or a really bad rendition of an 80s power ballad.

I think it’s fair to say that I need a bit of a reprieve.

I wonder if other people are as list-crazy as I am, and if blogging about it is advisable. You know how everyone thinks in terms of what their potential employers could potentially see? Well, I’m not worried about this turning them off.

Actually, I’m picturing some sinister boss-to-be sitting in a nicely upholstered chair petting a fat cat and breaking into deep belly laughs.

“Yes! Let’s hire the workaholic with the unhealthy addiction to checking off little boxes! Muhuhahahaha!”

So, there you have it, folks. I can cross off “blog about anything” from today’s list and replace it with “reintroduce a sense of balance into my life.”

Totally achievable, right?

Now, in honour of the behemoth (item #4 on my master list) I leave you with a comic that me laugh and cry a little.

From PHD comics – Credit: Jorge Cham.