#11 – Sandeep Sandive

I realized just a while ago that all my posts have been mostly super serious so far. And with good reason. But I want to change it up slightly, at least for today’s post. And the timing couldn’t have been better because what I’m about to share happened earlier this week. Also, this won’t be a long post at all.

First, let me set up the stage. On March 30, the Innovation + Creativity, Studio, and Data + Analytics teams had the first-ever quarterly connect. The goal of these get-togethers is to share learnings + best practices and showcase great work, so everyone can essentially get inspired. Since this was the inaugural edition, and we weren’t all familiar with each other, we were asked to do introductions. But there was a twist – you’d be paired up with someone, and they would have to introduce you while you introduce them.

My partner is a Senior Account Director named Michael. We thought we should do something more than just an old-fashioned introduction, so we decided to show off our skills. So, I created an ad for Michael, and he, being the digital world monster that he is, did a digital audit of me. If you think that sounds incredible, just wait until you see what he did. But, before that, here’s the ad I created:

Pretty good, eh? I won’t lie – while the headline didn’t take too long, the body copy was a fucking nightmare. For some reason, it just seemed like random sentences that were strung together with no natural flow. But, on the morning of the day of our connect, Michael showed me the presentation he made, which gave me the missing piece that made the ad seem like an actual ad. With all that said, though, I feel like I could have done something even more epic because Michael BROUGHT it. Here’s his digital audit of me:

hey, look, it’s my spec work!

even the blog made it! very meta. very cool.

i didn’t know that Dwayne michael carter jr. is lil wayne’s real name…

I should have mentioned earlier that this was a hybrid meeting, and I was one of those in the office. This presentation left everyone in splits, both in-person and virtual! Our Global Chief Creative Strategy + Innovation Officer, Simon Shaw, was the special guest, and he said, “I want to be Sandeep’s friend.” That was a great feeling.

This could be recency bias, but what Michael did was one of the best things anyone has ever done for me. It was absolutely incredible and made me look way more cool than I probably am. So, thank you, sir, for doing a Sandeep Sandive into my digital presence.

#10 – The Anxious-Preoccupied Type

Look, ma, we made it! We have hit double digits. This shouldn’t be a big thing, but it totally is. If I stuck to my original plan and wrote weekly (like I promised myself), this would be #13 or #14. Clearly, I didn’t, but I won’t be too hard on myself. The fact that I’m writing my 10th post is a massive achievement for me. (Drishti, look! I actually stuck with a writing project for a change!)

Ok, so, this might probably be a follow-up to my previous post? I’m not entirely sure. In case you haven’t read it, I would recommend doing it before reading this one. If you don’t want to, that’s fine. This isn’t Westworld – you aren’t going to be lost since there’s next to no plot building in my blog. (Can I just say how much I wish there was?)

If you have followed my blog so far, you’ll know that I’m on a journey to become a better version of myself—a better human. And to do that, I must know my flaws and identify their causes. Only then will I be able to address them and truly get to where I want to be. (It’s funny because this was never the intention of the blog, but hey! Here we are.)

I recently had a session with my psychotherapist because I had identified a few negative patterns in my life and wanted to get an outsider’s perspective. What I love about my therapist is that he never gives you the answer – he lets you arrive at it. He also gives you an unbiased opinion, which is something every good therapist does, but not all therapists are good (trust me, I know).

I digress. So, negative patterns in my life. I mentioned a couple of them in my last post – not believing I’m good enough and putting myself second in relationships (which were somewhat interconnected, I guess). While the hope was to address these issues, we ended up talking about an entirely different (but just as important) problem that took the majority of the hour. But it was for the best because I learnt something new during that session and have wanted to write about it ever since—the attachment theory.

Allow me to provide a quick overview of the attachment theory (with the help of an article I found on Google). There are four styles of attachment: 1. Secure – the ability to form secure, loving relationships with others. 2. Anxious-Preoccupied – marked by a deep fear of abandonment (my attachment style). 3. Avoidant-Dismissive – marked by a fear of intimacy. 4. Fearful-Avoidant – desperately craving affection and wanting to avoid it at all costs. For some fucked up reason, your attachment style is developed in your infancy based on the level of care and affection you get from your parents/caregivers. Isn’t that just wonderful? We don’t remember a single thing from these years, but it shapes all our relationships in our adult life. I have very strong feelings about this, but it’s not like I can do anything about it. So, I’ll move on.

The anxious-preoccupied type. That’s me, without a shadow of a doubt. People with this attachment style like to put people on a pedestal while believing that they aren’t good enough and whatever little they get is all they deserve. That’s why they cling to it. No matter how much it hurts them. Or drains their energy. Or fucks up their mental stability. They will cling to it and fight for it because they also believe that their effort is all they will need. This is obviously not a good thing, and I wish I had found out about this earlier. But I won’t blame myself. I know my flaw now, and all I can do is work towards fixing it.

It’s funny because it’s like learning a new language. When you’re a child, it happens almost naturally. But, if you try to learn a language as an adult, it’s a much, much bigger challenge. You’ll get the grammar wrong. You’ll perhaps mispronounce words. Maybe even use the wrong word in some instances. And it’ll take a shitload of effort to get to a place where your understanding of the language is enough to save your life. And then a bigger shitload of effort to actually become good at it. I’m at the beginning of that journey. I’ve just decided I want to learn a new language, so the road ahead seems long and uncomfortable. But I know it’s one I must take.

You know what I don’t understand? When I look back at my childhood, I don’t really see what could have been the cause. Were my parents perfect? Abso-fucking-lutely not! But they weren’t terrible by any means. They seemed to be always available – maybe it was just a bit too literal. But it’s so easy to blame your parents for what you are as a person today. Do they deserve it, though? The blame? I don’t think so. I think they did the best they could with what they had (this is obviously not true for everyone. I’m only speaking about my experience). Like, even the idea of mental health would have been so foreign to them back then. Gosh, I just realized that I was a newborn when they were as old as me today. That really puts things into perspective. Here I am, a 26-year-old man who’s not even in a relationship trying to express my thoughts through words. They, on the other hand, had to take care of an asshole that pooped everywhere and kept them awake at night, all while trying to make ends meet. Goddamn, that sounds like the opposite of fun and I, for one, am glad I don’t have to deal with an asshole and their poop.

I also found out through my research that people like me are just generally attracted to the avoidant types. Of fucking course. Why not make everything just that much more difficult? Why could I not like someone that’s securely attached? Because fuck me, that’s why. I don’t believe in the existence of God, but it’s things like this that make me question myself. There must be a sick twisted bastard upstairs pulling the strings on this shit, no?

In all seriousness, though, I can now see why the girl I liked shut me out. I understand. While I didn’t at first and was kinda mad at her, I now see why she acted the way she did. She’s fearful-avoidant. And knowing a little about what her life has been like, my heart aches for her. Genuinely. I just want to reach out to her and say that I understand. I wonder if she needs to hear that. I think she does. She deserves to be loved and to know that she deserves love. I also feel the need to recognize that I’ve referenced her a few times in my blogs. Although, in my defence, each time has been the result of a discovery/new learning, so maybe it won’t be a thing moving forward?

If my mother ends up reading this, know that I don’t blame you. One of your greatest qualities is that you’re willing to accept that you’re not perfect (which is a huge thing for a brown parent) and are open to learning/unlearning. I know that if you had the resources I have today, you’d be an even better parent than you already are.

As for me, my journey toward becoming a better human continues. I even bought a book earlier today that is apparently a great read and could teach me a few ways to go from being anxious-preoccupied to secured. I’m not sure how much of a difference these self-help books make, but here’s me selfishly hoping that it helps.

#9 - Belonging at the Table

I’ve gotta confess – when I started this blog, I thought writing something every week would be way easier than it has been. It’s not because I don’t know what to write about; it’s just that I don’t always have the will to do it. It’s also probably why I wrote the past few posts on random days during the week. I intended to do it on Sundays, but something always comes up, so I’m doing this whenever I can. (Hey, at least I’m still doing it!)

As usual, this post will be reflective, but more than that, honestly more a self-therapy session than anything else. I recently found out that’s a thing! You don’t necessarily need someone else for therapy – once you understand your issues/problems, you can work towards getting better, which basically means you can therapize yourself. This discovery was fascinating, I’m not gonna lie.

Yesterday, I was on a call with a friend I work with, and he said something that others have indirectly told me in the recent past. I have this terrible habit of thinking I am lesser than I actually am. That I’m not good enough. Now, any creative in the advertising/PR world would probably say they relate to this. But I think my issue is bigger than that. I have literally said things where I put myself down. Even when I didn’t need to. Especially when I didn’t need to (I mean, I probably would never need to, right?). And the worst part is it’s not limited to work. It’s in all aspects of life. And I don’t think that’s a good thing.

I’m realizing now that I kinda touched on this in one of my earliest posts. I’m surprised I didn’t notice it earlier, considering how obvious it was/is (even this last line, I first wrote “I was stupid enough not to realize how obvious it was/is” before going back and rewriting it). Anyway, after the (very important) conversation with my friend, I thought about what he said for quite a bit and tried to figure out the cause. And, I think, there isn’t just one. There’s a multitude of them. Some of which I probably don’t even know about yet.

Without a doubt in my mind, my relatives repeatedly picking on me when I was a kid is one cause. Constantly. To the point where I would do everything I could not to meet them. “Oh, he’s lazy.” “Oh, he’s fit for nothing.” “All he does is watch TV all day.” Mind you, this was before iPads were even a thing, and I barely even watched TV (I mean, how could I when all they did was pick on me for watching TV!). I can’t imagine what they would have said if I was a Gen Zer.

What I described above is honestly a very common brown kid thing. I think. I don’t know. Maybe it’s not. What I do know is that it’s a big reason I second guess myself. And think I’m not enough.

I’m starting to wonder, is that the reason I put myself second in relationships? There must be some connection, right? Maybe there isn’t. Maybe I’m grasping at straws. But, yes, it’s true. I put myself second in relationships. I’ve never once felt equal with someone I liked. It’s always like we’re in a bus where they’re the driver, and I am just a passenger. I could have used the example of a car and compared them to being a driver with me sitting shotgun. But, no, that would be true if I had a little more, for lack of a better word, control. And I never have. Always a passenger.

It’s funny. My friend also spoke about this on the phone yesterday. A few days after things didn’t work out with this girl I liked (still like?), he brought it up, and I apparently said something that was along the lines of “yeah, I guess that’s all that was meant to be.” And, you know what, I don’t even remember that. I guess it’s just inherent at this point. I say shit like that without even realizing how it is/has been affecting me. That’s not good.

Going completely off-topic here, but this might support my earlier theory. When I was younger, my English was subpar. Mostly because I went to a shit school, but I won’t get into the details. My relatives (the same ones as above) made fun of me. In their defence, it was all in good fun, but after having to deal with it constantly, it became more than a “joke.” Today, even though my English is probably close to being as good as a native speaker, I overanalyze the shit out of everything that leaves my mouth. If I’m on a Zoom call and accidentally say something grammatically incorrect, I judge myself to no end. Even though no one would have noticed 99 out of 100 times.

The point I was trying to make with the above bit is that these things truly affect you in the long run. It’s almost like they’re embedded in you. And just like you have to make a conscious effort to learn things, so should you make an effort to unlearn things. In this case, I must unlearn many things that I, deep down, believe about myself. Because it’s not healthy. And I know I’m better than that. Much better than that. I just need to start believing it.

Thank you, friend, for helping open my eyes and see what I probably had noticed but ignored on several occasions. Also, thank you to another friend who spoke about this not long ago, but only concerning love and relationships. I see my flaws, and I will do whatever is necessary to change my mindset. It’ll take time, I won’t lie. And I might fall back into the same pattern a few times before I truly understand. And learn. But I’ll do it. Also, I don’t know if I have a choice because my friend said he’ll send the following meme every time he catches me saying something mean to myself. (Honestly, if I were Batman in this situation, I wouldn’t have cared.)

Moving forward, maybe I should just do this instead of spending $160 on a therapy session. I can bitch about people without worry – it’s not like a million people are reading this anyway. No, I’m kidding. I never do that. (That might actually be a lie.)

I’ll wrap this up by saying that the journey towards realizing my self-worth begins here. I know I’m talented. I know I’m worth more. I just need to believe it. I just need to believe that I belong at the table.

#8 – Trying Not to Be a Hero

I haven’t written in a while, and I’m not really sure why. Yes, I’ve been busy, but have I been so busy that I couldn’t take an hour or two out to write? I don’t think so. But, oh well, here we are. It’s honestly a surprise that I’m doing this on a Monday, but I know that if I don’t do it today, I’ll just end up procrastinating.

I’ve wanted to pen (type) my thoughts about this ever since it happened, and I probably should have when it was fresh in my mind. All I can do now is promise that I’ll try to do my best to articulate it as well as I can.

A couple of weeks ago, we had a virtual Black History Month program called “Mindfulness: A Calm Alternative to Stress and Chaos.” Now, anyone who knows me would know that I practise mindfulness – I try to do it just before bed every day. In all honesty, though, I probably do it once every other day. But that’s beside the point. What I’m trying to say is that mindfulness as a concept wasn’t new to me, so I wasn’t sure I would have much to take away from this program. I’m so glad I was wrong.

While the session started as a mindfulness exercise – taking deep breaths and collecting our thoughts – it quickly turned into something so much more. The speaker, Sky Jarrett, who is a mindfulness instructor, among other things, shared stories from her personal life and opened herself up just so the people listening would feel more comfortable. Comfortable knowing that we’re all going through similar issues and that it’s okay not to be okay.

Throughout the session, she spoke about many things that made me sit back and go, “huh, interesting. I never thought of that.” One of the things that she said was that every person has different reactions to things. She explained that regardless of the situation, we all tend to react to situations in one way or another. Some people get angry and toss things around. Others ignore the problem/issue. As she continued to state some more examples, one thing stood out to me. She said that some people try to be a hero for others. And this made me stop and reflect.

“Trying to be a hero for others.” Huh, if it isn’t something I do every day. But is that a good thing? Wait, I just realized you might need some context.

So, I am, what I consider, an overthinker. I mean, we all do it at times, but my overthinking is genuinely a problem. I come up with non-existent issues out of thin air. All thanks to my sometimes-stupid brain. Anyway, I have thought about the hero thing in the past. And, to be honest, I still do. I have wondered if it’s due to the goodness of my heart or the desire to be praised. I’d like to believe that it is because I’m inherently good, but am I really? I don’t know the answer to that.

So, when Sky brought that up, I started thinking about why I try to be a hero. Even when I don’t necessarily should be. Or need to be. After thinking about it for a good three minutes, I thought it would be best to ask her. And, so, I posted this on our Teams chat – “How do I stop trying to be a hero when I can’t be one?” I hadn’t realized until I asked this question that it was something that I should have asked myself a long time ago.

It’s funny because I wasn’t always like this. I would say that I was almost the opposite. I would care only about the people that were extremely close to me. Now, it could be someone I have known for two days, and there’s a good chance that I would go out of my way to help them.

It’s also funny because I have, in quite a few instances, thought, “if I could take your pain on, I would.” But why would I do that? Why would anyone do that? Wouldn’t it be better if they worked towards getting rid of that pain on their own? Why should I take it on? This reminds me of that bit from Bojack Horseman where Bojack’s publicist tells him, “Don’t fetishize your own sadness.” I wonder if I am fetishizing other people’s sadness. God, I really really hope not.

Sky was wonderful during the session. When she saw my question, she took about three minutes of her time to respond to me. And I’m deeply appreciative of it. She said it’s important to notice with whom I try to be a hero and the circumstances. That’s step 1. Once I know when and how it happens, I can try to be there for them in other ways. So, I can still be the support they need but without overcommitting—sound advice from Sky (Shout out to my work friends for sending encouraging messages on personal chat after I posted my question).

Not too long ago, my friend said something hilarious but also slightly troubling. We were talking about this girl and how I wanted to help her get better, to which she said, “you’re a white woman. You try to fix other people’s shit when you don’t need to.” I laughed for a good little bit but then realized that is exactly what I do. Why am I trying to take other people’s pain when I can be there for them in different ways? Just because I’m mentally healthy doesn’t mean I should take it upon myself to make people feel good. Or feel okay. Or not feel like shit, I guess. I need to take a step back and realize when to stop. It’s only for my sake.

So, yeah. Now I’m on a journey to try not to be a hero – especially when I don’t need to be one. I’m trying to unlearn and learn new ways to be there for people. And give them the support they need. But without risking my mental well-being. Will it be easy? I don’t think so. But I need to make it happen. I’m glad that I’m someone that wants to help other people, but I need to do it in such a way that I don’t risk my own sanity (Sanity might be a big word in this case, but I’m sure you get what I’m trying to say).

Putting myself first is something I’ve always struggled with, but it’s high time I do it. I might be crazy for not doing it before, but now might be a great time to start.

#7 – Born in the Wrong Era

I know. I’m not special. Many others have felt similarly at some point in their lives. For me, though, it’s a bit more recent. If you had asked me five years ago whether I was happy being alive during that period, my answer would have likely been “100%!” Now, I’m not so sure. A part of me (more than half, if I’m honest) wishes I was born years ago. Perhaps a time before my parents were born. (I think my mother will be super surprised when she’s done reading this post.)

I was talking to a friend on the phone (are phone calls even a thing anymore?), and I don’t quite remember the context, but we both said, “I think I was born in the wrong era.” And I genuinely believe that. To be clear, I don’t dislike the current world. I just think I would have enjoyed being alive a whole lot more about fifty years ago. When times seemed simpler. Was it simpler, though, I wonder?

I think about how addicted we are to our phones and social media today. Scrolling endlessly even when in the company of people. Sharing the most random details of our lives for the world to see. What did people in the ‘60s and ‘70s do? Did they also talk and share endlessly but not really communicate?

I think about how divided our world is today. White people and People of Colour. Men and women. Rich and poor. But then I think, are we as divided as it seems? Take the Freedom Convoy, for example. If you read the news, you’d think half of Canada is on the side of those people going around and saying, “BuT mUh FrEeDoM.” However, stats paint a completely different picture. About 90% of eligible Canadians have gotten at least one vaccine dose. And about 93% are opposed to the convoy (don’t ask me for sources, I read this somewhere). So, except for a few bad apples, we are not really divided, are we?

This made me question, why does everything seem so hopeless? Is it because we have access to information from all around the world more than ever before? Shitty things have been happening everywhere forever, but we just wouldn’t know about all of it. Now we do. Is that why this period seems like one of the worst in history? I just realized I went on a tangent there. Going back to the main topic.

Take even something as simple as dating/relationships. Yes, fifty years ago, the chances of actually meeting someone who’s your soulmate was, well, minimal. I’m not saying that people didn’t find love, but was it the absolute best they could find? Who could say? Compared to now, the options were super limited because you couldn’t even find someone from another city, let alone a different country. So, in many cases, people probably “settled.” But, despite all that, I’d take the reality of the past to what it is now. There is just too much choice in today’s world, which means people are taking potential partners less seriously now.

I recently read a book called Modern Romance by Aziz Ansari. The book talks about how different dating is compared to the past and how it may not be as great as it seems on paper. I’m not into dating apps, and this book only made online dating worse. I might have thought, “goddamn, I don’t think I’ll ever find anyone.” I’d like to believe it’s nothing more than an overreaction, but who the fuck knows?

Let’s say you had a good thing going with someone. But, for some reason, the other person wanted to end things. Would it be okay if they did it over a text? Personally, I would be livid. It doesn’t matter how shitty you feel, or how difficult it is, the least you can do is tell them to their face. Or at least over a phone call. At least for closure. Also, the other person won’t feel as insignificant. But how many of us have gotten that dreaded text? I’m sure the number is way higher than it probably should be. Now, obviously, a text is okay if you have only been on one date. Maybe it didn’t work out, and that’s fine. I’m starting to wonder how different dating was back then. Would people just ghost if things didn’t work out?

I think I’m an old soul. Or maybe just an old person stuck in a young person’s body. I don’t know. When I visited Banff last year, I met someone I liked. Asked her to go out with me if things didn’t work out with the guy she was seeing at the time, and she said yes. Before I left the hostel room we shared, I wrote her a short letter about how thankful I was that we met. Who even does that these days? So, yeah. Someone old stuck in a young man’s body.

Everything seems so fast-paced now. Like there’s no time to breathe. You go to school when you’re 4-5. Next thing you know, you’re 17 trying to get into college. Then, you look for a job. Before you know it, you have a family, and you’re struggling to make ends meet. Wasn’t life simpler before? I’m not saying people didn’t have to study or work to survive, but at least they didn’t have to live in constant fear of becoming homeless. I mean, at my age, most people were probably married and could afford a house if they didn’t already have one. I feel like I should mention that being married is not a measure of success by any means.

I’ve also noticed that we as a species are just not good at communication. We may be able to talk for hours, but do we communicate? I don’t think so. This isn’t necessarily a now thing, though. I think humans have always had problems with it. Not being able to express how they feel. Or being able to have an open conversation about something that bothers them. I don’t think this is new.

But what I do find interesting is that all these tools that exist to make us “more connected” or “communicate better” are the ones that are pushing us away from each other. Do you think that’s a fair assessment? Take the metaverse, for instance. I genuinely believe that if it takes off (and I have extremely negative thoughts about it), it’ll drive us further away. And that’s not a particularly enticing reality to me.

With all this said, I’m absolutely not willing to trade the music from this era. That is one thing fifty years ago couldn’t beat. I discover a new artist once every month on average, and they’re all SO GOOD. UGH. I’m genuinely thankful for the music right now. There’s something for everyone, and that’s what makes it so good.

So, yeah. That’s basically how I feel about existing during these strange times. Of course, you could say that, just like now, there would have been challenges fifty years or even a hundred years ago. And I would 100% agree with that. But, despite that, I think the uncertainty of the past would have been easier to deal with.

I know. I could be wrong. Maybe being alive in the past would have been a bigger challenge for me. Who knows? After all, I’m just an old soul. Or an old person in a young man’s body, I guess.

#6 – Stuck in a Loop

Ah, the one thing that rings true for almost every human at this moment in time – being stuck in a loop. One of the many things the pandemic has forced upon us. I am, like most of the people reading this, annoyed. And I wonder if there is an end (I’m sure there is, but when will it come?).

As I write this post, I find it tricky to concentrate because the topic is as dull as my daily routine. But I’ll power through and try to make it half interesting – I owe you that much for the time you’re dedicating to me/my blog.

Let me tell you what my every day looks like. I wake up around 6:15-6:30 every weekday morning. Quick side note here – I’m sure my mother is still quite surprised that I manage to do this every day, considering that half a decade ago, I used to go to sleep at that time. I know, I know. That’s not healthy, blah blah blah. But there was nothing better to do at the time. And nothing is quite as nice as the quiet of the night (I might need to tweak that sentence, but there’s an IKEA mattress ad in there).

Coming back to my daily routine, I do my workout first thing in the morning. Start the day off right. Doesn’t matter how I feel when I wake up – anxious, sad, happy – the workout always puts me in a good mood. Then I take a shower and have my breakfast. While I eat, I either scroll endlessly on social media (mostly Twitter) or speak to my mom/sister (this is what I do most of the time).

Even my conversations with them have become some sort of routine. There’s not much happening in any of our lives, so it’s mostly a recap of the previous day (in most cases, nothing of note happens) followed by 15 minutes of “and?” All of this in my native tongue, of course. Another quick side note here – it’s kinda wild how the English language has taken over my life. Even when I talk to my family, I can’t string more than three sentences together in Tamil. So, I inevitably switch to English.

After that, I go to my home office (just a desk and chair in my living room) to tackle a new workday. At this point, it’s usually around 9:00. I do a day’s worth of work – meetings, projects, wasting time (which, for some reason, has been more common than I’d like so far in 2022. Our clients have been MIA). Next thing I know, it’s around 17:30-18:00, so I decide what to cook for dinner (which is usually also lunch the following day) and get started.

While I eat my dinner, I watch an episode or two of a TV show (currently re-watching Bojack Horseman) and then read a little. One of my New Year’s resolutions is to read at least twenty-five books in 2022 (I would love to double that number, but let’s see), and, so far, I’m on track. Around 21:45-22:00, I meditate (another New Year’s resolution) and then get ready for bed. Most nights, I’m asleep by 22:45. The routine continues the following day without missing a beat.

Weekends are slightly different, but not really. I clean around the house, do my laundry, go grocery shopping, and do everything else I need to do on Saturday. Sundays are my rest/cheat day, so I wake up late (around 9:30-10:00) and have a heavy brunch and dinner (complete with dessert, the one time in the week that I’m allowed to indulge).

So, you see, it’s no lie that I’m stuck in a loop. Every day is the same as the previous one. Now, I might be exaggerating because I do hang out with my friends quite a bit. Every weekend of January, there was some kind of gathering. But not nearly enough to make up for the rest of the week, you know what I mean?

It’s times like these I miss having my family around. I’m sure I’d still be bored, but maybe a little less? Also, it’s times like these when I hate Canada. Everyone lives so far from each other, and, more often than not, it feels like you have to set up an appointment to meet your friends. Do you know how wild that is? A stark contrast to how life was like when I was in India.

Things were different when I lived in India. My friends had a lot of free time (and so did I), and we lived only about 10-15 minutes away from each other. So, it was easier to meet. I used to hang out with them almost every day. Sometimes we’d go to a gaming parlour, sometimes chill at someone’s home. Good times.

Writing about them reminds me of a day (this has nothing to do with the blog topic, but I just must share) when a friend and I were extremely bored. Like, no exaggeration, but I don’t think I’ve ever been that bored in my life. My friend called me up and asked me what I was doing. My answer (and this was default at the time) was nothing. So, I went over to his place. We were still bored as fuck! So, we called a DJ friend and asked if he could get us into his club. It was a Wednesday night, so they had a salsa night or something. We watched them for about 45 minutes and then left because we were still bored! Also, it might be important to note that we were broke as shit back then, so we didn’t want to stay for long anyway. We grabbed some food at a roadside place and then returned home to continue being bored. We still laugh about that day whenever it comes up. (Friend, if you’re reading this, hey!)

I honestly don’t know what else I can add. I guess it’s better to have a boring routine than not to have one at all. Maybe I should be happy that I don’t have to worry about a job or a roof over my head. But it’s still difficult not to hope for something more. It doesn’t have to be this way, no? If the pandemic were to end tomorrow magically, wouldn’t our daily lives still be more or less the same? Do you think it’s just a seasonal thing? Maybe things won’t seem as mundane when it’s not cold as shit. I don’t know.

I have been considering volunteering on weekends. Help people and get to make new friends. But most of the openings I have found so far are virtual. * Insert Robert Downey Jr.’s eye-roll GIF *

I hope things get more interesting soon. I’m considering getting a dog – I have to speak to my landlord and ask them if it’s okay, but in case they are, I’ll probably get one. Maybe that’s the change I need?

#5 - Why Representation Matters

I know, I know. Today is not a Sunday, so why did I post this in the middle of the week? Well, before I tell you why, I have an important update – I recently officially became a Canadian Permanent Resident! Phew, what a relief!

In what turned out to be an unofficial celebration of sorts, I went to a cottage this past weekend. It was a complete Canadian experience.

Showing off Pt. 1

Showing off Pt. 2

Since I was at said cottage, I didn’t get the time to write. I know I could have saved this for the weekend, but I’m really hoping to write at least fifty posts this year. Fifty-two, if possible (once every week). So, there’s a good chance I will post something this weekend as well.

Anyhoo, if you read my last post, you would know that I initially had trouble fitting in when I first moved here. I’ll save you the trouble of looking for my previous post – here’s what I said: I should mention that there was a brief period when I first moved to Canada where I felt like I was a supporting character in my own story. That now makes me realize just how important it is to have representation.

Representation. I’m not the first one to talk about this. And I sure as hell won’t be the last. Most of what you’ll read in this post are things you already know, but maybe an immigrant’s perspective will underline its importance.

A little bit of backstory: I first started watching western shows when I was 15. I had watched a few western movies long before then, but nowhere close to the content I now consume.

It’s funny. I just realized that I got into western shows to impress a girl I liked back then. She would recommend shows, and I’d watch them so that we’d have more to talk about. Hmm. I always thought that woman hadn’t contributed to my life in any way, but I now realize that she, unknowingly, played a massive role in who I am as an individual today. Huh, who’d have thought?

Coming back to the backstory, the kind of shows I initially watched wasn’t the greatest. But they were not bad either. When I started going to college and hanging out with people who were super into movies/TV shows, I got some great recommendations. And I watched it all! Honestly, at one point, I was obsessed. And, by that, I mean I was OBSESSED. In under two weeks, I watched Game of Thrones (only the first five seasons were out). Think that’s crazy? I completed Breaking Bad, all 62 episodes, in under a week! This was DURING college. Looking back, I think I might have been insane.

Anyway, all these shows I consumed made a huge difference. More so than anything, the way I thought changed, but what I didn’t realize is that it was changing me in other ways as well.

When I moved to Canada, I quickly realized that I wasn’t entirely comfortable. To an extent, I wasn’t even myself. I remember when I’d go to Tim Hortons and feel nervous when I spoke to the cashier. Can you imagine that? Feeling nervous to ask for a cup of coffee? I should mention that this mostly happened when the cashier was a white person. They could have the biggest smile on their face, but the nervousness would still be there. What if I mispronounce something? What if the way I speak is unclear (and I wasn’t even thinking in terms of my accent)? What if I say something grammatically incorrect? Will they judge me? It might be important to mention that this is certainly not every immigrant’s experience, but I would be surprised if no one else felt this way.

Seeing white people play the lead in every show clearly took its toll on me. My brain, for some reason, had just decided that white people were above the rest. It was definitely all in my head because some of the best people I’ve met in Canada, or even the world, are white. But, back then, it was a feeling that I couldn’t quite shake off.

Think about some of the best shows you have watched. What are your top 5? Allow me to share my list: Mr. Robot, Breaking Bad, Dark, Better Call Saul, Game of Thrones (Side note 1: the final two seasons still leave such a sour taste in my mouth. Side note 2: Attack on Titan is definitely in my top 5, but since it’s an anime, I won’t include it). Every one of these shows has pretty much an all-white cast. There’s always one black person who plays the role of the best friend or something. And there is one other person of colour who fills the diversity quota. As much as it sucks to say, it is how it has been for a long time. Take a moment and think about your top 5 shows. I guarantee 4 of those have a primarily white cast.

There’s a British show called Sex Education. If you haven’t watched it, you should. It’s a show about teenagers, but even people in their 50’s will enjoy it. It’s funny, informative, interesting, <insert 3-4 other adjectives that describe how great the show is). Anyway, this show has an amazingly diverse cast, which is honestly very refreshing. BUT (you know there is a but), the show’s main two characters are a white male and a white female, and both are unsurprisingly straight. For a show that deals with sex positivity and diversity, I think the leads could have been 1. Not white, and 2. Not straight. (This is in no way a criticism of the two actors. They do an incredible job as the main characters, tbh.)

Representation is important. People like me shouldn’t have to feel like they are playing second fiddle. Like they don’t fit. Or that they cannot dream big. Just because we don’t look like the people we see on screen. That’s why we must regularly see a diverse group of people in TV shows/movies. Only then will we not feel like we’re different/lesser in any way. Because, the truth is, we are all the fucking same.

Let’s cast a brown person as the lead. Or an Asian. Or a Latino. Or a Middle Eastern. Let them be attracted to someone from the same gender. Or be someone whose identity is outside the gender binary. And let’s do it time and again. Until headlines like “Simu Liu is the first Asian lead in the MCU” are not a reason to celebrate because diversity is the norm.

And, if anyone thinks that this is too “woke,” honestly, you can go fuck yourself. The world’s progress is stalling because of people like you, and you should be ashamed of yourself. I’m not gonna waste any more time addressing you shitheads.

So, yeah, that’s my take on representation and its importance. I should mention that I no longer feel like a side character in my own story. Over the past few years, I have learnt quite a bit, and I now understand what I think I always knew: we’re all the same. We might look different, but no one is better than/above the rest. The fear of not being understood at the coffee shop is still there, but that’s because of the stupid mask (No, I didn’t say black coffee, I said latte!).  

Before I end this, if you’re someone who oversees hiring, please bring in a diverse group of individuals. Not because you have to meet your diversity goals or due to company policy. Do it because we’ll learn from each other and grow. Do it because we’ll be better off in the long run.   

#4 - The Protagonist of an Uninteresting Story

 I’m writing this under the assumption that everyone feels like they are the lead character in a movie/TV show at some point in their lives. I used to think about that a lot when I was younger. “Hmm, people must think I’m really cool.” Yeah, chief, about that…

Going slightly off topic, I should mention that there was a brief period when I first moved to Canada where I felt like I was a supporting character in my own story. That now makes me realize just how important it is to have representation. But more on that in another post (maybe next week?).

A few days ago, I started thinking about my story (it was super random), and I realized that it is, without a doubt, uninteresting. Maybe even boring. But it’s not uninteresting or boring to me. In fact, quite the opposite. Does that make sense? Let me explain.

Think about every great piece of content you enjoy. What makes it great/enjoyable? Usually, and this is not a rule of thumb by any means, it’s drama. We humans loovvveee that shit, don’t we? Actually, now that I think about it, it doesn’t even have to be good! Remember when that train wreck of a show called ‘Tiger King’ came out? Try scripting something like that. You can’t! Even if it pained you to watch it, you couldn’t take your eyes off it. Humans eat that shit up! Just to be clear, I’m not pointing fingers. I’m one of you, I promise.

If you took my story and created a TV show, forget people watching it and talking shit about it on social media. Or even getting a measly 2.5 stars on IMDb. No network would even pick it up. It would NEVER see the light of day. That’s how uninteresting it is, and I would be lying if I said that makes me unhappy. I would honestly have it no other way.

A couple of months ago, I was walking on Queen Street with a good friend of mine. I don’t quite remember what the conversation was about, but I remember I was the one doing the talking when this white homeless man said something to me. My buddy just went, “what the fuck,” and I was confused because I didn’t hear what the man said. My buddy said, “I didn’t catch exactly what he said, but it was something racist.” Now, a character in a TV show would probably go back and say a few words to the homeless dude. Maybe they would ask the homeless dude to repeat what they said. Me? I said, “ah, fuck it. I didn’t hear what he said, so I’m gonna pretend it didn’t even happen.” Told you. No drama. (I do want to mention that this was the only time anything racist has happened to me in Canada. And I lived in Peterborough, a predominantly white city, for about 15 months. Although it was in the middle of a global pandemic, so it wasn’t like there was much opportunity for the racists to do their thing.)

Take even what happened like a week ago. The girl I like told me that she didn’t like me the way I like her. Yeah, I know. Ouch! Now, a TV character would have maybe picked a fight with the woman and asked how that could even be possible. And we would have silently judged him for being incredibly stupid and not realizing that feelings just… happen. Or he would have gone on an alcohol/drug binge, and we would have been right there with him. I am, and I can proudly say, much more “normal.” That night, the food I ate was healthier than usual (and I won’t lie, I’m on a healthy diet). I then read a book and meditated for a bit to calm my mind down. See? I told you. Nobody wants to watch that shit. (As a side note, even though she probably won’t read this, I do want to appreciate how respectful the girl was during our conversation, and I hope she felt the same way.)

This does make me think about what I used to be like when I was barely an adult. Man, just thinking about it makes me cringe. That version of me would have 100% been a part of a TV show. And not the good kind. It’d be one of those shows that gets a 4.5 or 5 on IMDb, but people would watch it and go, “God, these guys are the fucking worst. Where’s the popcorn?!” Can I just take this moment to say how glad I am that I’m not that person anymore?

I mean it when I say that my life is interesting to me. Sure, it is a routine in many ways, especially with our friend Omicron still doing the rounds, but all things considered, I love my life. I have a job that I (mostly) enjoy, a good set of friends I like to hang out with, I’m making a conscious effort to develop good habits (putting my thoughts into words is one of them), and I’m trying to become a better version of myself every day. What’s not there to like?

A couple of days ago, a co-worker friend (I have only known her for a little over a month) told me that I’m a good person and give good vibes. That genuinely filled my heart with happiness. And, my friend, if you happen to read this, know that like attracts like.

If we were to have a sole purpose in life, it should be to make people happy. Let me be clear. You are a part of “people.” Don’t ever forget that. Make people happy but remember to also make yourself happy. Unconditional love begins with you, my friend. It took me a long time to realize that. I used to believe that you needed someone to become whole. A partner. Friends. Family. Someone. But, I now know that the only person that can do that is you. And, when you make yourself whole and really love yourself and your life, your story will be uninteresting. And that’s a good thing. Because it’ll only be uninteresting to the “audience.” But, to you, it will be one that makes you happy. (Is this starting to sound like a LinkedIn post? I really hope not, because I HATE LinkedIn!)

I don’t want to drag this post on like every sitcom that overstays its welcome, so I’ll end it here by stealing something that my psychotherapist says. Be good to <insert your name here>.

#3 - Random Thoughts about Religion

I knew there would come a time when I have no idea what I’m gonna write about, but I didn’t think it’d be this soon. Don’t get me wrong, I have a list of topics (I literally have them written down on my phone), but I don’t want to write about any of them right now. I think I want to talk about religion, but do I? I’m not sure.

Have I told you that I’m atheist? I’m sure I must have mentioned it before. For the longest time, I had been the kind that would simply dismiss anything that believers said (related to God/religion, obviously. I’m not a dick). Recently though, I’ve been much more, let’s say, understanding. If you believe in the existence of God, that’s okay. As long as you’re not trying to force your ideas on me (again, related to God/religion), you do you, sir/ma’am.

Any other day, this post would have probably been “anti-religion,” but I don’t feel like it today (important to note that I’m writing this on a work day). I don’t want to be yet another person pointing fingers in a world that loves to point fingers. I do that a lot, and I think it might be time to change that about myself.

Today, and maybe just for today, I want to be someone that hopefully brings us closer (even though only like 3 people are reading this). Someone that can help us see that no matter who we believe in – Jesus, Allah, the million Hindu Gods – we’re really not that different.

I’ve recently started to realize that the idea behind all religions is the same – we should all try to be better humans. This is easier said than done but let me ask you this. Is it really that difficult to be decent humans? And do we really need religion to tell us to be decent humans? Wait, no, I said I won’t say anything against it (at least not in this post).

I’ll approach this differently. Let me take you back to my past. I was born in a city called Hyderabad, which is in the Southern part of India. The best way I can describe the city is that it’s mini-Toronto. Of course, Hyderabad doesn’t have people from all over the world, but what it has are people from all over the country. And that is a pretty big fucking deal. Because, what non-Indians don’t realize is that while most Indians probably look similar, we’re not the same.

Allow me to explain. India has over 22 official languages. For comparison, Canada only has 2. People love to say that each state in the US is like a different country. What you might not know is that that is actually true for India. Not only is the language different, but the “culture” and food are, too. No, we don’t all eat butter chicken. In fact, many Hindus don’t even eat meat. Side note: I’m not a big fan of butter chicken. It’s too sweet. Why is it not fucking hot?!

Coming back to Hyderabad, what I love about the city is that it has always felt like everyone got along, regardless of who they believed in. Sure, there are pockets where you would find mostly Muslims, or pockets where you’d find only Hindus, but it never had the Hindu-Muslim divide that is an issue in many other parts of the country. That’s one thing that always stands out to me.

When I was growing up (and I should mention that I believed in God until I turned 15), I never had to think twice about who my friends were. Looking back, I think I was friends with Muslims, Christians and Jains, and it never felt out of the blue. Like, I wouldn’t even think “Damn, this guy/girl is not Hindu. So wild.” It seemed natural.

Yet, now, it doesn’t feel so much like it. Was I just naïve back then because I was a child and hadn’t “seen the world?” Or were things better back then? Don’t get me wrong, I know nothing was perfect even then, but it never felt quite as hopeless as it does now.

Something funny just came to mind. I was chatting with a friend (for context, he’s part of a Hindu family) recently, and he told me about a conversation with his mother where she said something along the lines of “marry anyone you want. As long as she’s not Muslim, I’m cool.” Isn’t that weird? If he liked someone that’s Muslim, why shouldn’t he be with her? Why must we have to choose? Or, I guess, not choose?

Do you really think that whatever version of God exists cares about whom you like and what you do in your lives? As long as they’re not a literal monster, why would your God care?

Besides, if your God is real and They (I’m just gonna use the gender-neutral term ‘they’ to describe God moving forward) did indeed create all life as we know it, wouldn’t the person not believing in your version of God still be someone that your God created? Does God just not care about that person anymore because they don’t believe in Them? That doesn’t sound nice. Is that something They would do?

Maybe we should all sit back and think about what this really means. Why would any God care about any person less than the rest? If They really are the way They are described in books, They probably love everyone equally, no? So, just because someone believes in a different religion doesn’t mean they are a bad person? Is that a fair assumption? I feel like I’m going around in circles right now. Maybe I should stop trying to make sense of it…

At the risk of sounding controversial, I want to say that maybe we should stop basing our lives by thinking about what will get us into heaven (or whatever the equivalent is in your religion). For all you know, heaven isn’t real. Imagine if there really is nothing after death. Just gonna sidetrack here for a second: That’s what I believe will happen when we die. Just nothingness. And if I’m wrong and there’s heaven, at least I’ll know. Unfortunately, for all you believers, there won’t be an “I told you so” moment, and I absolutely hate that. Anyhoo, coming back to ‘nothing after death,’ imagine if that’s the reality. You go your entire lives trying to get into this special place, not realizing that you, my friend, have not really lived. Only existed. Wouldn’t that suck?

So, I implore you. Live your life. We aren’t on this planet for too long anyway, so don’t stop yourself from doing things just because a book told you so. Obviously, be a good person. I’m not asking you to kill anyone. Or emotionally ruin them. Be a good fucking person. Be friends with whomever you want to. Love someone that practises a different religion. Marry them if you feel like it. Stop living your life based on rules from a book. Start living, my friend.

I’ll leave you with this amazing video. Bo does it better than I ever could (and in a hilarious way). 

#2 - Moving Away from My Roots

Hello again, my three friends. Welcome back to SanDeep Thoughts. In my previous post, I spoke about making new friends in 2021. I’m happy to report that I kicked off this year by making a new one.

You should know that I’m someone that LOVES conversations. Not just about my favourite TV show or the musician I have on repeat, but about, for lack of a better word, ‘bigger’ things. Usually, I have these conversations with people I’ve known at the very least for a little while. I’m trying to change this because I now realize that “strangers” are more likely to have a unique perspective on things.

Maybe that’s why things were different with this new friend. Or maybe it was because a long-time friend of mine introduced her, and I didn’t feel the need to keep my guard up. It legit felt like I had known her for years.

After hours of stimulating conversations, she told me that she had learnt graphology when she was younger. For the uninitiated, graphology is the analysis of handwriting to determine someone’s personality traits. This practice is considered by many to be like astrology (I’m personally not a big fan of it tbh). Nothing but pseudoscience. Now, I have no opinion on graphology, and I’m not for or against it, but I’ve got to say at least 90% of her analysis was bang on.

Not ambitious enough? Check. Low self-esteem? Check. Putting myself second in relationships? Check. This is not to say that it was all bad. If anything, most of it was good. Some were even great. But, in true millennial fashion, I’ll only mention the negatives. *Insert upside-down smiling emoji*

I was asked to write a paragraph about literally anything for the analysis. She took about ten minutes to review my handwriting (if only all results were that quick). One of the first things she mentioned after was that she could see that I was “moving away from your roots.” *Insert Leonardo DiCaprio pointing at camera meme*

Quick side note: what she said wasn’t news to me. I’ve honestly known this for a long time (more on that in a bit). But I’d be lying if I said that my mind wasn’t absolutely blown when she shared her findings. I literally shouted, “what the actual fuck?! How do you know all this based on how I fucking write?!” Or something to that effect.

Moving away from my roots. That’s it! I would never have quite put it that way, but that’s what has been happening ever since I moved here. Hold on. I’m just starting to realize that I need to provide some additional context to you lovely people.

So, this began about two years before I left India. This feeling that I didn’t quite belong. What do I mean by that? I’m going to try my best to explain it, but I’ll say that I tried explaining it to my psychotherapist, and even though he said he understood, I’m not quite sure he did.

Have you ever been in a room full of people and wanted to be anywhere but there? That was me every second that my mind wasn’t occupied. I didn’t know why. I’m not sure if I know the reason even now if I’m honest. It certainly wasn’t my friends because most of them were like-minded individuals. It wasn’t my family either. But that feeling was constantly there. Gnawing at me. Like a parasite.

I want to clarify that I was not suicidal. Not one bit. I felt like I didn’t belong, yes, but that didn’t mean I wanted to take myself out of the equation. If anything, I wanted the situation to change. But I didn’t know where to begin.

When my plan to move to Canada became a serious possibility, I started to wonder. Will this feeling change when I leave the country? Or would it be more of the same?

I had (still have?) many problems with India. I’m basically royalty in India (and it’s important to mention that I hate this), so I know I’m speaking from a place of privilege. Let me elaborate. I’m a man. Unfortunately, that means way more than it should in the country. I was brought up in a Hindu household (I’ve been an atheist since I turned 15). We weren’t a part of any backward castes (just another way to divide humans like we don’t do that enough already). And we were upper-middle class. The only thing I didn’t have going for me was my dark(er) complexion. Indians are obsessed with fair skin, and I have a million thoughts about it, but more on that another time.

So, when I say I have something against the country, I don’t say it lightly. India is culturally rich and unlike any place you could ever visit. The difference between states will boggle your mind (and white people, no, we don’t see elephants everywhere). You could explore the country for an entire year and still not see enough. I mean, I lived in the country for 22 years and have visited multiple places, and still haven’t seen it all.

But the country has way too many issues, starting with the way women are treated. As much as it sucks saying it, they are simply considered the ‘lesser’ gender. Let me put this into perspective for you. Women in poor families work their asses off as maids or cleaners to keep the lights on while the husbands do nothing but drink all day. And yet, women are treated like they’re somehow not as important as people like me. Obviously, not all women face this, but it’s more common than you think. Sidenote, I think it’s important to mention that my family was mostly free of these “cultural norms,” so I’m very grateful for that.

Coming back to the issues, how about the absolutely ridiculous number of rapes? Or the way poor people/people from lower castes are treated? Or the Hindu-Muslim divide (Hindus are usually the assholes, BTW)? These issues are just the tip of the iceberg. I think that sometime during this phase, I stopped relating to my fellow people. I felt a little less Indian every passing day. Less proud of the country that everyone said I should be proud of.

And, so, as my Canadian dream got closer, I used to think, “would things be any different after I leave?” Would it be more of the same? What if this wasn’t limited to India? What if I felt like I didn’t belong anywhere?

The move to Canada happened in August 2017. I wish I could say that the feeling went away, but, unfortunately, it didn’t. Fortunately, it was less intense. Being insanely busy with school and work also helped. The first year and a half were quite challenging, but things started to change after that. I began to feel more at ease as I started hanging out with Canadians. Feel more like I belonged.

Now, I’m not saying Canada is some kind of paradise. It absolutely is not. This country has its problems. Less than six months ago, we discovered just how cruel the settlers were to the people that this land belonged to.

But I know the people here are working towards making it a better place to live. A place where everyone can live without fear of judgement. A place where everyone can be proud of themselves. I wish I could say the same about the country where I was born. Which is why I think I’d rather be here than in that part of the world.

When I look back at myself from five years ago, I don’t even recognize myself. The way I think, the way I am, everything’s changed. While many people might think I’m “putting it on” or “faking it” (I’ve been directly and indirectly told this), I’m fucking proud of who I’ve become. And, although I’m only about half Canadian (I’ll become a permanent resident soon) at this point, I consider myself more Canadian than Indian.

So, yes, I’m moving away from my roots. That’s not a bad thing. People change. The way they think also does. The only constant is change.

A&W Canada’s Installation in Downtown TOronto (told you my career was taking over my life)

#1 - 2021 in Words

To the three people that might potentially read this, hello! Welcome to my personal blog. I could say that I’ve been planning to do this for a long time, but that would be a lie. A friend suggested I do this yesterday, and I thought, why the heck not. So here I am writing (typing) away at 20:30 (military time FTW) on a Sunday.

Before I get into it, I want to give a bit of an informal introduction to whatever this will end up being (I’m still trying to figure that out, TBH). I’m a copywriter, but please do not expect top-quality writing from this blog. It will likely be unfiltered thoughts, and, I won’t lie, some (most?) of it won’t make sense. But what I can promise is that I’ll do my best to make it worth your time – whether you’re on the way to work (is that even a thing anymore), on the throne, or just looking for something to read because you’re bored as fuck. Which reminds me, I do want to warn that I will drop multiple F-bombs and other words from the same family. If that bothers you, what the fuck are you still doing here? No, I’m sorry, I don’t mean that.   

The idea behind this weekly (subject to change) blog is to talk about everything under the sun. Nothing is off-limits. It could be about the vast universe and how we’re truly insignificant in the grand scheme of things. Or it could be about how annoyed I was when my co-worker forced me to make an unnecessary copy change (this happened three months ago, and I’m still so salty). If you’re ever not interested in what I’m saying, I won’t be offended. Just like in advertising/PR, there are two audiences – me (primary) and the three readers (secondary). Clearly my job is taking over my life.

Anyhoo, since this is the first week of 2022 and there’s not much to report, this is a great opportunity to look back at a pretty eventful 2021. This might be a long one, so please bear with me.

When I lived in India, I celebrated NYE with my friends every year. Hands down some of the best times. As stupid as it sounds, drinking with them when my father was around was just something else. Maybe it was because my father didn’t think I was old enough to drink at the time (which, honestly, was not inaccurate)? Whatever the cause, simply great times. For some reason, as amazing as Canada has been for me in several ways, every NYE has been shit (except maybe one, but I was working that night). Last year was the worst. I forced myself to sleep at 23:00 because I didn’t want to stay awake and feel the loneliness that had been plaguing me for much of the year. But a part of me was quietly optimistic for the year to come.

I had a few new year’s resolutions. I didn’t follow through on most of them, but I did manage to do the one that mattered most to me. Take fitness seriously. Having tried it a few times in the past and not quite able to stick with it, I am extremely glad to have been doing it religiously for almost the entirety of 2021. The impact it has had on my mental health is just *chef’s kiss*

When the year began, I lived in Peterborough (for those who don’t know, it’s a city about two hours from Toronto) and worked at an ad agency there. I didn’t enjoy either living in PTBO or working there. The people at my workplace were great, so it wasn’t them; it was mostly the work. Or, I should say, the lack of it. So, I was looking for an out and, to my surprise, two doors opened. One was one of Canada’s best ad agencies, and the other was a PR company. Although I knew next to nothing about PR, the opportunity seemed more enticing at the time. My boss would be someone I had worked with before (and I LOVED working with her). And they offered more money, too. So, I chose the latter. And I’m happy to say that I made the right choice.

I only started the job in April, and it took me about 2-3 months to truly understand the PR world (honestly, I think I’m still in the learning stage). But, once I got in the groove, I felt… good. Not many have that feeling when it comes to their job, so let me take this moment to acknowledge how grateful I am. Special shout out to my boss Elma who is the absolute fucking best. Also, can I just say how incredible it is to work at a company where the majority of leaders are women?

Pivoting slightly to my living situation, I continued to live in Peterborough, where I had moved two weeks before the pandemic (YES, two fucking weeks!). My only housemate was my landlady Kelly, a 55-year-old white woman who had never been friends with a POC. Somehow, it worked. We both respected each other’s space and also enjoyed spending time together. But, as comfortable as it was, I really wanted a place of my own. It’s just something I had been craving for a long time, and I luckily found an inexpensive place in Etobicoke (a suburb of Toronto). So, I moved at the end of May.

As someone who had never lived alone, I was obviously very excited. But, boy, did it exceed my expectations. Waking up to a clean bathroom. Cooking in a clean kitchen.  Why did I not do this earlier?! Safe to say that my living situation also did a ton of good for my mental health. If you’re considering getting a place of your own, don’t even think about it. Just fucking do it.

One thing that was still messing with my head quite a bit was the world’s uninvited guest – COVID-19. To be very honest, I was super scared of contracting the virus. My second shot certainly put me at ease, but what got me “back into the world” was my solo trip to Banff and Jasper. Going from being at home pretty much all the time to a place with no mask mandate was… extremely weird. But it did a ton of good for me as I’ve been much more “normal” since that trip. I also met someone on that trip – she was the first woman I had liked in over two years. But, there were many red flags, so I’m not assed that nothing happened.

Sidenote: Banff and Jasper were both breathtaking. The first couple of days were kinda fucked because of wildfire smoke, but the rest of the trip was 11/10. If you ever get the chance, please, please, please go. You will not regret it. But, do know that it is expensive AF.

Throughout the year, I met many amazing people. I’ve had to let go of a few friends, but I’ve made new ones and, for that, I’m thankful. A couple of friends from India moved to Canada last year. That was cool. But, the highlight was, hands down, meeting a woman at our company holiday party. You know when you meet someone, and it feels like everything just… fits? That’s what it felt like. Now, I’m not saying she didn’t have flaws. I mean, don’t we all? But there was something about her that made me feel things that I hadn’t in a long, long time. I won’t use the L-word because I don’t think I quite got there, but I was 100% falling for her. Un-fucking-fortunately, it didn’t work out. Since this is not her blog, I won’t share her reasons, but I respect them. Such a shame because I think we would have been great together. On the bright side, though, she did a ton of good for my confidence. Maybe that’s all she was meant to do?

I cannot believe I’ve written over 1300 words already. But that’s a summary of my 2021. Was it good? Absolutely. Could it have been better? Perhaps, but I’ll take 2021 any day over 2020. I got the chance to bring in the new year with my new friends, and I’m so glad I did. I hope 2022 continues to be good vibes.  

bringing in the new year with new friends

Oh, I almost forgot. My sister fought depression and slapped that bitch in the face. She’s not 100% out of it, but she’s getting there. She also aced her exams. And turned 18 last year. What a phenomenal kid. I’m so proud of her. And also my mother who has been nothing but a rock for my sister when I’m always a million miles away. I hope to be able to see them (in person, obviously) before the end of 2022.

Just as a heads up, the upcoming editions will be more reflective than just a recap of the past week. So, if you were bored with this one, I apologize. I promise it will get better. I will do better. Besides, the first time is rarely ever good.