At 1:00pm today, 27 years ago, I was born.  Three years until I am 30.  I can’t even believe how fast it feels like time has passed. It seems like just yesterday I was starting grade 10 and falling for my first true love, when in actuality - that happened 12 years ago! 12. Wow.

Now, at 27, what would I tell my former high school self?

Don’t let others dictate your future. Don’t listen to the guidance councilor who tells you that you’re not university material and should consider college since it’s more hands on. Decide that for yourself. (But still go to college because that’s where you will meet your future husband *wink*)

Try harder at sports and don’t just drag ass and do it because it’s something to do. There IS talent there, otherwise you wouldn’t have won all those awards. Don’t stop, keep up with it and join teams throughout college and afterwards. You WILL regret it otherwise.

Don’t go for the older guy. As enticing as he may seem, he’s playing you. He may be the most wonderful, kind and compassionate guy you’ve ever met. But he has a girlfriend and you’re just the toy on the side. Unless you’re willing to step up and call some shots, don’t be “the other girl”: it’s far too painful and will leave you spending many a nights crying yourself to sleep with years and years of contemplating “if things had been different….”. And even though you don’t know it now - but will when you KNOW you’re in love - he will be your first true love and telling him 5 years later will not change anything. NOT WORTH IT.

Your biology teacher is just that. Your teacher. Yes, he may be good looking, only ten years older then you and easy to flirt with, but DON’T. Sure it’s harmless, but it’s wrong. Even when he asks you to go to his house and taking care of his cats while he’s on vacation. Your step-father is a teacher at the same school and when you tell him that you need the car to go to said teacher’s house: it may not be a good thing.

Be a little more careful when drinking. Situations will arise that you’d be better at handling if you weren’t intoxicated. Boys do take advantage of young girls that are really drunk and they DO try and gat away with things they normally would not. And on that note: grade 10 Halloween Dance? Do NOT finish that mickey of Peach Schnapps before bouncing around the dance floor. People WILL remember “the time that you barfed under the bleachers” at said dance. Oh, and don’t call your mother from a friend’s house when you’re COMPLETELY hammered (at 15 years old) and ask to sleep over. She’s not an idiot. She knows you’re drunk. Same goes for your 16th birthday when you pass out on a hay wagon on a friend’s farm and cut the shit outta your face. Telling mom that you fell on a gravel driveway while playing basketball may seem like a good idea, but I think she knows the truth (even though to this day she has not said anything).

Drugs are fun - but BAD. Don’t smoke that joint hanging out your bedroom window before dinner. Just because you can’t smell it doesn’t mean others don’t. Staying awake all night fried on ‘Shrooms is NOT good for your health - mentally or physically. And DO NOT listen to Marylin Manson while on acid. Bad. Bad. Bad. In fact, maybe don’t even experiment at all.

Cheating doesn’t teach you anything. Just because your teachers may be too lazy to change up their tests once and a while doesn’t make it right to memorize an old test. You will not learn anything that way. Caring this on to college is a bad idea as well. Just because you would have failed that college final without knowing all the answers doesn’t make it right. Maybe you SHOULD have failed.

Your mother does know what she’s talking about. You should give her a little more credit. She’s not out to “ruin your life” or control it. She wants what’s best for you and lying and sneaking around is not that. She does know. She will find you and you WILL regret it. Don’t tell her you’re going for a walk just as your friend pulls up in the driveway. Don’t make that call to her while you’re drinking, and for Godsakes - find a better hiding spot for your illegal activities or don’t bring them in the house AT ALL! There is a lesson to be learned. She will reach the end of her rope, you will be kicked out (but forget the fact that she BEGS you to come home) and she will not forget.

Don’t tell that older boy’s girlfriend’s best friend ANYTHING. If you didn’t listen to the above advice to stay away from that older boy, the you better listen to this… even when the girlfriend’s best friend traps you in the bathroom at school and asks you outright if there is something going on between you and said boy - DENY. Take it up with him, don’t leave him in the dark while his girlfriend devises plans to get you BOTH back. He at least deserves to know that he will be served his nuts on a silver patter in a short time.

Your brother is your best defender. Don’t take him for granted. Boys are boys and “say” they will be there for you, but they’re not. Your brother? Always.

Don’t date the gas attendant. Sure it may have been set up and you kinda got thrown into it, but stand your ground and don’t date the guy.  Nothing good will come of it. You cannot help this person and he will become abusive - just like his father. He will lie, cheat and steal from you and in the end use you. He’s dead to you. MOVE ON. Don’t even glance in his general direction.

Some people are good friends and some are not. SOME bullies from your elementary school days can change and become wonderful friends. Others? Just don’t waste your time trying to forgive them; they’re still not worth it. Some GREAT friends that you have will not last. Let them go. Sometimes you just can’t stop yourselves from growing apart, and some you SHOULD grow apart from.

Your 16th birthday would have been better had you remembered some of it!

What would you tell your former high school self if you had the chance?

My maternal grandparents arrived in Canada from Hungry, but not together. My grandpa arrived in Canada when he was 12 years old, my grandma a short while after. They did not know each other prior to moving here.

The story I’ve been told, of their first meeting, sounds as though it derived from a movie script.

Young man meets a lady friend and falls head over heels.

Young man persues young lady incessantly.

Young lady refuses every offer until she is overwhelmed by the constant bombardment of flowers, visits and promises of a beautiful future.

Young lady agrees to a date.

A date that quickly turns into a 44 year marriage.

Head over heels in love.

Growing up, we were very close to my maternal grandparents - both geographically and physically. I love those people like no other.

There’s just something about Hungarian heritage. It’s so passionate. Passionate for just about anything from love and marriage to their pets and vegetable gardens.

God, I remember how much my grandpa loved his vegetable garden. He would be out there for hours weeding, watering and shooing away the neighbourhood cat, as he cursed it in Hungarian, for using it as a litter box.

His cat, Chester, was his best friend. Every evening Chester and Grandpa would sit in the basement watching television. Chester on his lap purring loudly as my grandpa stuffed chewing tobacco into the centre of a rolled up stick of Juicy Fruit gum. They were a pair.

While they sat in the basement the women - being my mom, aunts and grandma - would sit in the kitchen drinking cup after cup of coffee, talking about everything adult while my brother and I would watch TV in the den, and fight.

I remember my poor old grandma racing around the corner to break up a fight: yelling to get our attention. I don’t think we’ve ever concluded a fight so fast. There’s something about getting in trouble from a grandparent that’s almost sacrilegious.

Sometimes one of us would be sent downstairs to sit with grandpa. Which I always loved.

I would sit beside him, watching intently as he continued rolling the stick of Juicy Fruit delicately around the chewing tobacco. I would ask question after question about what he was doing, why he was doing it, what did it taste like… you know, kid questions.

It was always a treat when grandpa would share his Juicy Fruit, and to this day, I can’t eat it without thinking of him.

I miss those days.

My grandpa passed away 11 days before his 72 birthday in 1998. I had just turned 17. Stomach cancer had finally taken it’s toll - taking my beloved grandpa from us too early.

My family hasn’t been the same since his death.

He was the glue that held us all together. He was the family rock. The stability we all needed.

Now that’s gone.

And so is that part of my family.

Since his death a lot of heartache was doled out between my mother and her sisters. Accusations flew, hatred and evil words were spewed - words that can never be taken back. My beloved grandma stuck in the middle - not strong enough to make them work it out.

Not like Grandpa.

He’s not here to sit his girls down and make them work it out.

He always said: “Family is the most important thing in our lives.”

Too bad that didn’t hold true after he left.

Before he passed, Grandpa asked that Grandma keep her independence. He didn’t want her to move in with any of the girls, but to remain happy and on her own.

After much coaxing, Grandma moved in with her eldest daughter two years after his passing.

That was eight years ago.

I have seen my wonderful, loving and passionate Grandma three times since then.

Three times.

(There are many reasons why it’s only been three times.)

She’s met her great-grandson, Carter, two of those times.

She doesn’t even know we’re expecting another.

I am so torn about the whole situation.

I miss my grandmother immensely.

We, my grandma and I, are caught in the middle.

But there is so much tension and so many hard feelings involved.

Tension and hard feelings that are not mine, nor hers.

How do we move past their squabbling and guilt ridden comments to have a relationship again? (Rhetorically of course.)

Before it’s too late and I lose her too.

When the phone rang in our house growing up, my mom would grimace. It was usually for me, and it was usually my best friend or current love lust interest. She knew that the phone line would be occupied for the night as I grabbed the cordless and headed to my room for privacy.

I was known to keep that phone tied up for hours. Rarely did anyone else in our house ever use it, nor did they try and get me off of it. I think they found peace in the fact that I was locked away in my room and not spewing my teenage mellow drama throughout our peaceful home.

As years passed and high school ended, I moved on to college where I lived with my four best friends. There was no need to be on the phone - expect to Mike when he lived on the other side of the country for work over three months of my last year - another post all together.

My love for the phone diminished. As I became an adult, with my own phone, it decreased further to the point of disdain now that the telemarketers got my number. I hate talking on the phone. I hate just about everything to do with the phone: maybe because work has taken the fun! out of it since it’s more of a work tool for work stuff then for the enjoyment and gossip that I used to get out of it.

With my pregnancy winding down (OMG! 6 weeks left!) I’ve been getting the last of my appointments and registrations and bookings set up: requiring the phone.

One important registration that I’ve put off was booking with the hospital to save time when I arrive, ready to pop this child out. So I called this morning to set up an appointment with the labour and delivery department for a tour and registration. It’s a brand new hospital that I have yet to visit, so I think it’s a little imperative that I get some kind of idea where the hell I’m supposed to go.

I called the number provided by my doctor only to be greeted by a tin can voice directory.

Great start.

I navigated through part of the menu that took me to the hospital I was actually looking for fine; but then the voice activation kicked in.

Let me just state that whomever, in their right mind, thinks that voice activation is a good idea is a complete fucking idiot. Voice activation is just another one of Satan’s tool to frustrate people to the point of almost committing unlawful acts of violence and instilling pain on those who may be in the vicinity while trying to use that damn system.

I said, “Department” as requested by the tin can voice, who then proceeded to repeat it back to me.

Piece of shit is mocking me.

Okay, I think, please just give me the list of departments.

Then it hung up on me.

Great.

As I began cursing the stupid mechanical voice, I hear snickers coming from the other side of the office. Not only am I being mocked by a pre-recored voice, I’m providing entertainment for my colleagues.

I start again.

I try pressing zero to avoid the bullshit and get to a real person.

“You’ve pressed an incorrect key.”

Pressing zero repeatedly usually works, so I try that.

“There is no patient here by that name.” It mocks.

WTF!? Crap.

Hang up.

Begin to curse The Voice again only to hear more snickers from the peanut gallery.

Try again.

Back to press this, press that, press this… then say “Department”

“DE-PART-MENT.” I stated.

The voice lists off the HOSPITALS again!.

I say the one I’m looking for: no trouble, it actually understood me. We moved on to the list of departments.

“Say the name of the department you are looking for.”

“Obstetrical Booking.” I stated.

“I’m sorry. I did not understand your request.”

“OB-STET-RICAL-BOOK-ING.”

“I’m sorry you seem to be having trouble. I will now transfer you.”

Praise the Lord! A HUMAN! I get to talk to a human being!!

At this point I’m about ready to jump up and down jubilantly screaming that I had defeated The Voice.

Then ANOTHER fucking pre-recorded voice interrupts my victory celebration.

“I’m sorry. Our office is now closed. Our office hours are from 8am to 6pm. Please try your call again at a different time.”

Then it hangs up on me.

I remove the phone from my ear and stare at it.

It’s fuckin’ 10:30am! 10:30!

It’s not a weekend, nor is it a statutory holiday.

As I curse the phone, the stupid departments, and the fact that their damn voice doesn’t even know the damn time, I hear bursts of laughter from the other side of the office.

I’m certain that damn tin can voice is laughing at me too.

Back in the day, while frequenting the mommy message boards (EEEVILLL!), I forged relationships with quite a few women. It’s difficult not to get sucked into other people’s lives and feel for them, care about them, think about them - like I’ve very much done since joining the blogworld.

Then, in an instant, things changed. I don’t know really what happened. I don’t know if I was taken advantage of, conned - whatever. A person I thought of as a friend was in a very tight spot and, out of the goodness of my heart, I opted to help her. Without ever meeting this person, I wired her 250 dollars (Canadian - which was MUCH less at the time - probably about 350US) to get herself, her little boy and infant twin girls out of an abusive home, and a tiny bit of a start, to move from Chicago back to Cali.

There were rumors about her flying all over the message boards about her being a con, taking gifts and purchases from caring board members and selling them on E-bay for cash. Being the kind hearted person that I am *coughBULLSHITcough* I believed that, yes, she was selling everything trying to raise enough money to get out of the hell she was living in. Without knowing that I had contributed a great deal of money to her cause, people jumped on me for taking her side while all I was doing was trying to enlighten them on the other side. (Sometimes that doesn’t alway work - ask my dear friend Miss Britt.)

Inevitably, the administrator took it upon herself to ban said person, who was a member for well over four years, without giving her a chance to defend herself - without giving her the benefit of the doubt. I received a phone call from said person frantic and in tears after reading what people were saying about her, without the ability to fight back.

Though, I never go the money back from her, as she promised. I know that she did indeed get out of that abusive relationship and back to California - so maybe what I did was right. I don’t think I’ll ever know. but, since then I’ve been very leery about helping people I’ve only met online.

Since joining the blog community I vowed to keep my money to myself and offer only emotional support to people that I “meet”.

Why am I telling you all this?

Something happened that changed my mind. I contributed, financially, to someone’s cause.

A fellow blogger is in the midst of her third battle with ovarian cancer. She’s now fighting for her life based on past ‘treatments’ (I say ‘treatments’ because you have to read her stories about her previous bout with this awful cancer).

She needs our help. Her family needs our help.

Right now, Miss Anne is collecting donations and holding a raffle to help Lisa. Anything you can spare to help this wonderful lady, mother, fellow blogger, would be greatly appreciated. If you can’t help financially, it’s completely understood, but you can still help by putting in your sidebar, one of the buttons created by fellow bloggers (which are on Miss Anne’s site).