JOMO

Like any attendee late to a party I have 2 options. I can sneak in seeking to blend with the group or I can be bold and make an entrance denouncing the norms of being on time or even, dare I say, early to the soirée.

Well, if you have never read me before and especially if you have, I am not one to be a wallflower so with that I bring to you my resolution post for 2014.

Sure, New Year’s eve was a week ago and sure, we are WAY bored with the notion of the resolution at this point- but over my breakfast this morning my husband brought up the best acronym I could imagine and for the first time in months, I was inspired to write.

JOMO- Joy of Missing Out (and opposite of FOMO- Fear of Missing Out).

JOMO, how brilliant you are to come along right at the exact time when social media has been top of mind and conversation.

It began for me, on New Year’s day when, sitting in my living room with some friends in our pyjamas, one of the group announced they had deleted Facebook from their phone. She praised the time she had found from doing so as “liberating” and I was intrigued.

As a 30 something year old, Facebook has long lost its fun and whimsical ness and become a place I go and hate.  The odd wedding, an occasional vacation, and babies have replaced the albums we coveted years ago portraying epic nights and drunken shenanigans splashed over our pages.

I would lie if I said I don’t creep pictures of an old friend with her new baby or a former colleague at her recent wedding. But do I really care? Are these tidbits of information enough to really take me away from the life I live into this alternate universe where this shit matters?

The answer is clearly, NO.

So I went to delete my Facebook mobile app too and found that it took me 2 tries before I had the courage to delete it. Why?

FOMO.

I actually fear missing out on the shit that I know I will absolutely not miss out on. The engagement of some old acquaintance that I would not even say hi to on the street if I saw them in real life, the co-worker who I kind of hated when we actually worked together 5 years ago at the zoo with her snotty kid, the birth announcements complete with hospital pictures that violate my sense of privacy?? WHAT was I going to miss?

The truth was that I would miss nothing.

My FOMO was causing me to see a very different world than the actual one I was living in. instead of looking around me and taking in my surroundings on my commute to work, I was nose deep checking out the latest updates and FOMO got me good because by making me fear missing out, I actually missed out on something more valuable, my time.

I would rate my time as more important than what you ate last night for snack, as far more significant than the fact that you took a selfie in bed, #nofilter, and certainly more important than your thoughts on last night’s Golden Globes.

Professionally, I work in media so it is not possible to avoid social media nor is it right to ignore the many benefits of it when used with discretion and thought. It can help network, share stories and connect ideas. This past weekend I was at an accessory fashion show and the designer found the person that created the wardrobe for the models donning the jewellery on Instagram. There is value there that cannot be ignored.

But JOMO doesn’t have to mean that you turn into a hermit and disassemble your modem. 

JOMO means less liking of statuses and more compliments payed directly to friends, less creeping strangers and more taking the time to interact with them, and less thought on this contrived person that exists only online and more time spent enriching the real you.

By giving yourself some space from social media, you are effectively giving yourself some space to think and grow. You may actually like what you find and feel more inclined to stop and smell the roses.

But if you find that the “real” world and your “real” life are not as good or stimulating as your Facebook one, than you deserve another selfie, my friend. Make sure to pick the right filter.

Wishing you all the JOMO in the wold,

XO

J

GUEST POST- Judge a book by its cover

On this particular rainy Friday, I invite you to begin your weekend by reading a hilarious guest post by the fantastic Batgirl. 


Here you go- and you are welcome!

In a world where participation ribbons are the norm, and everyone is told that they are special, too many people believe that theirs is a unique and stupendous talent. Many of these people are wrong. Case in point: “Taken by the T-Rex.” This is not a book that should exist. This is whatever the opposite of the apotheosis of literature is. I genuinely fear for humanity that there is someone (someone’s?) out there that believes that this drivel is worthy of being added to the pantheon of the written word.

Now don’t get me wrong, I love me some well written trash. But therein lies the key – well written. Not everything needs to be “War and Peace” levels of literature, but I have to at least feel like my brain cells aren’t killing themselves so as to avoid reading the words.

In fairness, I have no idea as to the quality of the writing of this “book,” and I never intend to find out. But I can surmise based on the blurb alone, which was rife with poor sentence construction and possibly a few grammatical errors, that this is the type of book that would make 50 shade of grey look like The Grapes of Wrath. I won’t even get into the “plot.”

My point is, we’ve taken making people feel good about themselves too far. Not everyone is a gifted writer. Not everyone should be published. Some people should be banned from writing entirely. But in an age of self-publishing and fan-fiction become a best-seller, I fear that this will only get worse.

In case you need to know more:
http://www.amazon.com/Taken-T-Rex-Dinosaur-Erotica-ebook/dp/B00FI9JFFO

And, in case you don’t want to click on that link, here is the synopsis- Drin is her tribe’s chief huntress; she lives for the thrill of the hunt.  Men and sex hold no allure for her, as Drin has never found a partner to satisfy her.  When a T-Rex descends upon her village, destroying it, Drin demands that the tribe’s hunters go in search of the beast and slaughter it.  Opting for safety instead of revenge, the tribe moves to a new location, hoping that the big beast won’t follow them.
It does.
Drin taunts the beast, giving her tribes mates time to flee.  As she runs, leading it through a gauntlet of traps, the thrill of the hunt soars through her blood, leaving her wet with desire.  When the angry T-Rex corners the huntress in a box canyon, it seems more interested in her wet womanhood than in her flesh.


On that note, enjoy your weekends out and about- since it seems that nothing is taboo anymore, have fun... WHATEVER you are doing!

xo,
Batgirl and Jane. 

Jane Does Fitness- Morning glory #freshairdontcare

This morning I work up at 5:45 am ripe with terror. All night I had dreamt up excuses to stay in bed and loll about until the absolute last second possible to still be at work on time (like I always do). There was no way, in my dreams, that I was hauling my lazy ass out of bed to do anything when my alarm went off.

At 5:45, it is hella dark- there is no solace in your stepping out of bed. No morning sunrise to greet you for another hour, no wonderful reason for you to do anything but sleep. Yet, I found myself up, getting into clothes and walking out my door all before 6am.

A few months ago I found out that my office will be moving as a collective to a new building- this is amazing news and I am mega excited for my new neighborhood and space HOWEVER, I must bid adieu to my beloved office gym that has kept me from becoming an obese person for the past 2.5 years. Goodbye to spin classes, to my favorite Muscle Up noon class, to the Arc trainers I so diligently sweat onto and to the rowing machines where I fantasized about being a Yale rowing champion. Goodbye to the weight area filled with men who smirked as I dry heaved through my 15 pound bicep curls and a final goodbye to the glorious mats that always smelled bad- I loved you all the same.

I’m not a gym rat, that’s for sure but it is fair to say that fitness is a good part of my life and the stress of being gym-less is making me sweat.

Now, with my new office I am forced to either join a gym downtown, get home from work and pretend like I will ever go to my husband’s gym located just north of us, or think outside the box. I chose column C.

And so, with that in mind, my husband and I agreed to a one month challenge- 2 days per week- 6am- running.

Full circle back to my walking out of the door at 6am this morning- morning number 1 of our run-while-it-is-early-as-fuck program.

Overall, it was actually amazing. I watched the sunrise while sprinting a 5k through basically empty streets listening to Macklamore (because I just fucking love him) and Usher. I would have never thought about pop music pre noon- it is invigorating. Plus, the best perk of all is that I was home, showered and eating a wicked breakfast before I would usually even be awake. My only learning was DO NOT eat banana before running. I spent the end of my run trying not to barf banana on the road.

I just reread this post and I feel like one of those really annoying facebook friends who is all like, “ran 5k today and then saved a kitten from a burning house” which I read while I am shoveling my face full of ranch potato chips at my desk. I'm not that person. My cheerfulness is genuine- my wish that I could never run another inch in my life and still not look like Shamoo is too.

Happy trails to you,
J

Jane Rants and Eats- Apples or not.

Happy Monday Readers,

Did you have a nice weekend? I did. It was the perfect weather for a weekend, don’t you think? Hot enough to be outside and enjoy the sun, cool enough to do so without dripping sweat from your back (or having to walk behind people with back sweat which is like, one of my biggest pet peeves ever.)

My husband and I are like, obsessed with the Fall- ok, I just am, he likes it, I live for it. I basically want to spend all of my time doing fall related activities. I want to swim in a sea of cider, frolic in changing leaves and snuggle into warm cotton sweaters. Sure I hate pumpkin flavored things and wool, but I don’t think that makes me the anti-Fall.

This Sunday, we had plans. Big plans. Apple picking kind of plans followed by 17 downloaded recipes on how to make everything in the world with apples including but limited to apple bourbon (that’s grown up apple cooking). We also had plans to hang with some friends and their daughter while apple picking. If I can bring a kid with me to a farm, it is way better for me. as I have mentioned before in posts, there is just something weird about playing on the jungle gym as a 31 year old with no kid- like going to Chuckie Cheese, but a little less creepy. With a kid, I can be free to pet the farm animals, play on the swings, enjoy the hay maze- it is a smorgasbord of fun without any hint of me being a super weird creep show.

In the AM, our friends, their kid and my dreams of feeding the goats left without us which brings me to my first point of today- why do people with kids not want to hang out with us? I honestly find it weird that my friends and people I know with kids don’t want to hang out with us- like, what? Am I getting fucked up before my trip to the apple farm? Will I not get to bring a flask of rum and coke to drink if your kid is there? Would I EVER do that anyways? All I can tell you is that the few parents we know that have encouraged a relationship between myself and their kid will reap the benefits one day when I am a parent. You know I’m going to throw the best birthday parties ever.

But hey, we are nothing if not excitable and resourceful so with apples in mind we decided to go picking anyways. The farm, like most, was 45 minutes outside of Toronto. Apple farms are basically the only time ever in my life that I wish I lived up North. It would be awesome if they took 10 minutes to get to but I guess for the one time per year I go I would basically be giving up everything I love about my life- ok, I take it back....

So we do the drive because not only are we hankering for apples, but my sister in law and nephews are also coming to this orchard so we are excited at the idea of apple picking and getting to hang with our family! This makes the drive up easy. We arrive at 1015. Obviously the orchard doesn’t take visa because it is not Chudleighs and is just like, one poor girl sitting there looking at us like we are complete morons for even suggesting that they would have some wireless payment contraption in the middle of a fucking field. She tells us we can go to the store, buy something and do cash back. Ok

So this farm is actually HUGE and much to my delight, is full of the coolest activities that I can actually do once my nephew is there- a train, a zip line, a maze- I was beyond excited at the possibilities.

It took us a while to get to their store which sold the following; pie. Considering I ate a full tub of butter last week on the vineyard, a pie was like, the last possible thing I wanted to purchase- I found pickles on a shelf and even though they were 8 fucking dollars for a small jar of pickles, I figured it was worth the extra calories to save myself the pie. 8 dollars and pickles to get some money to pick some apples. By now it was 10:45.

Back to the orchard, we get a bag for apples and make our way to the “orchard”. Now, I use quotation marks because to me, an orchard is a vast expanse filled with ruby red apples glistening on the tree tops. This was 9 rows of 10 trees with maybe 1 apple per tree rotting on the top branch. How on earth can you fill a bag with no apples. It is now 11. We shamefully refund our money and sulk over to the parking lot. At this point we have to head back to the city on 45 minutes, there are no apples, we don’t want pie and there is nothing else that 2 grown ups can do in this whole place that wont make people think we are pedophiles.

By then I had to pee- obviously, porta potty options only.
We left at 11:30 as our fam arrived for their day of fun.

Here’s a little tidbit of advice- if you want to go apple picking, don’t go to a farm that doesn’t have apples. If you want to be able to play in farms, find friends who like when you hang out with them and their kids and if you only have a 2 hour window, don’t bother driving up north.

Thankfully, the rest of the weekend was amazing making up for this super Sunday AM bust.

Happy Fall frolicking.
J

Jane Travels- Martha's Vineyard

Hi readers,

While I wish I was still on the vacation that I just returned home from, I am happy to be back, sharing with you some musings from my favorite place on earth, the Vineyard. If Bahamas and Halifax had sex and produced a love child, it would be Martha’s vineyard. Part Caribbean island living, part east coast hospitality with just enough Americana to remind you that you are neither in the Caribbean or Canada, MV is a totally cray vaca.

Sorry, to clarify, when I say cray, I don’t mean that we were acting cray- if there is a nightlife on the island after the summer months, I have yet to see it- also, we don’t leave our home away from home- but I digress.

MV is like the Hamptons of Boston- everything on the island is amazing, expensive and well manicured and during the summer it is bumpin with senators and vacationers alike. In fact, only 50-90,000 people reside on the island full time/ from coast to coast it is a 45 minute drive and the beaches that surround it all, like everything else, are fucking amazing.

A quick island tour;

The main ferry port takes you to Vineyard Haven. Name. accurate. Or better yet, Vineyard heaven. Here is the only main “chain” grocery store and a bevy of shops and little homeware places, a gallery owned by Carly Simon’s brother, a bazillion boutiques that put Anthropology to shame, a store that had the best balsamic vinegar I have ever had- seriously, I was drinking this shit in a cup. Moving East, you get to Oaks Bluffs. So, in MV, a lot of the areas are “dry” meaning that there is no booze to be found. Oak Bluffs, by contrast is wet making it A. somewhere we went often and B. more touristy. OB boasts North Americas oldest carousel, a lot of shops that sell Jaws stuff (Jaws was primarily shot in MV making MV Amnity Island, in essence) and some really beautiful old houses. Moving South East you get to Edgartown, the yuppie area of the Vineyard. You can tell. The houses here vary only in being either Classic American or Dutch mansions. Seriously, I would live in some of these houses garages and be happy. Majority of residents here curiously drive Mini Coopers. This is a true white, Waspy area. The stores are boutiquey and it is bustling with tourists. Oh, and you  can buy booze here too and unlike the booze store in OB, this one doesn't not smell like cat vomit. From Etown, you can take a 2 second ferry over to Chappaquiddick aka where Kennedy killed a hooker. If you make your way now West across State road you will pass all these yummy bakeries, restaurants, places to buy Alpaca wool, farms, and artisan galleries until you reach Chilmark. This was our home for the week. Chilmark is... Well... Chill. It is way more cottagey and rustic and gorgeous plus, the Gylenhalls live there. Enough said. Further West and North is Aqquina home to the Gay Head cliffs- we did a lot of Gay head on that trip. Stop it. You are immature.
Finally circling back toward vineyard haven from the other side is Menemsha.

That’s the island, in summation.
Now here is what we did on it.

Eat a boatload of seafood- pun intended.
Seafood that actually has come right out of the water and is in your pan a few hours later cannot be matched. You can actually taste the sea-ness of it all which, if you like seafood is a good thing- if you don’t I guess it would be like, the grossest thing you could ever eat. The specialties on the island are full fat and friggin amazeballs. Lobster rolls- oh hi totally fresh, just peeled lobster mixed with green onion and mayo on a buttery hot roll, I will eat the shit out of you. Clam Chowder- oh hi delicious cream soup with chunks of fresh clams and potatoes, yup, I will eat you too. Lobster bisque- oh, oh hey same as clam chowder but red and filled with lobster chunks, you can hop into my belly too. Those coupled with daily fresh oysters, shrimp, scallops, fish and squid made up the 99 percent of what I ate. Sure, I gained 5 pounds easily in 5 days. It was worth it.

Walked around the gorgeous natural scenery.
Every inch of this island is pretty. Like you can be walking by a ditch lined with porta potties on route to the beach, and it is pretty. We walked the beach, the Gay Head cliffs, all the towns, 2 arboretums, a farmers market and biked through E-town and Chappy.

Drink wine and laugh a LOT.
My husband and I have been to the vineyard alone before back when we got engaged and it was wicked, as was the day we had before our friends arrived from NYC to spend the weekend with us in MV. I love alone time with him- it is romantic and nice and a great way to just be together- but time with our besties in the best place on earth is priceless. I laughed for 3 days straight. We drank enough wine that I could go wine free for a few months, and talked so much that I am all out of what to say now.

Unplugged- more on this to come but this was one of the highlights.

Swam in the ocean.
Heck ya it was warm enough to swim. The water was cold but the sun was shining and there is nothing as splendid as savoring those last moments of summer in late September in the ocean.

Overall, this was actually one of the best vacations of my life. It didn’t have to be super exotic or action packed or even hot and beachy all the time which goes to show that great company is really the spice of life.

Cheers to the end of the summer and to a new annual tradition of saying goodbye to summer in MV. YOMVO (if you aren't lucky)

Xo,
J

Jane Rants: Protection when you most need it

Working in advertising does things to you. I use the phrase “to ____’s point” or “my POV is” way more than I should in casual conversation and I scrutinize ads to an extreme degree. It is a function of the job and it never turns off.

Case in point- please watch the below link
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AH4qMhB_f9E

When Kotex came to life with those wicked ads they had with the messaging that was poking fun at all other tampon ads, they tore the feminie hygiene product worlkd a new asshole. Talking about periods so casually and in a fresh, "real" way was revolutionary. You laughed, you cried, and the people at Tampax scrambled to remind you that you can't judge a tampon by it's neon cover.

Enter Tampax's new ads- a subtle reminder that "at a moment like this" (this being when you are doing a back flip in a white bikini) she is glad to wear Tampax. Why? well, at this moment in her life, she doesn't care for fancy packaging and witty lines, she cares that she does not have a giant red mark on her white bikini bottoms in front of all her friends- thus positioning Tampax as the lead in leak protection. Let the "other guys" be he flash, Tampax will still emerge victorious. Substance over style.





But here is the thing- Tampax, while you win for your overall messaging and priorities, you lose for this shitty ad.

I am a fairly normal girl, I am in my 30s and I am totally comfortable with my body in terms of getting my period, like, really not a big deal at this point. HOWEVER, I really do still try to avoid bathing suit situations when I know it is coming and even at the best of times when I am period free, I avoid white bikinis. 

So this girl is on her period and she is like, "oh, I am going to a pool party and I shall wear a skimpy white bikini". She didn’t have anything else in her closet? Just one white bikini? I don’t think I buy that.

Furthermore, lets say, for arguments sake, that she does in fact own only one small white bikini and she is too broke to even go out and buy like, an H&M bikini which is on sale for 4 dollars and she just HAS to attend a pool party on the day of her period- DO YOU HAVE TO SHOW THE WHOLE PARTY HOW YOU CAN BACKFLIP ON THAT PARTICULAR DAY????????????? Like, maybe just tell your friends that you are a great back flipper and promise to show them some other time how awesome you are at it OR, just keep quiet. No one likes a show off anyways.

If it is time to “Get real” about periods then let’s all agree that the best you can hope for in terms of good solid protection is to not leak through your “period/granny panties” that you are wearing under a strategically DARK dress or jeans. If you dare to wear your smallest and most revealing bikini, you deserve whatever Mother Nature flings your way.

Can I get an amen ladies?

Xo
J

Jane Muses- Take 30

Dear readers,

I read this Olivia Wilde article about being 30- people actually reposted this all over Facebook so I was intrigued. What could a 29-year-old on the cusp of being 30-year-old famous actress marrying a famous actor have in common with me?

Turns out that we are both thinking about turning 30 and we both think you shouldn’t get Botox or facelifts. Who knew we had so much similarities in our thinking? Seems we agree that doing work to yourself in the ripe years of your 30s is just f-ing gross. I was recently with a group of girls who were patiently waiting to try Botox and I thought to myself how, like tanning, this is going to make them look ridiculous in a few years. Ladies, Olivia and I both urge you to chill the fuck out on your appearance. At your funerals, which I hope don’t come for a very very long time, no one will give a shit that you had no wrinkles, fit into a size zero or had a facelift- and if they do, you should probably get new people in your life. People will remember you for being wonderful and for being you! Trust, I see tons of ladies when I visit my parents in Florida who, I am sure, in their prime had killer bodies and gorgeous faces. Later in life, no matter how much work you do, you will look old. You may look old and skinny but you will still look old- old and tanned= still old, old with liposuction stomach=still old. No one will ever care and if anything people will make fun of your over bloated lips behind your backs. A cautionary tale.

We also agree that you shouldn’t feel pressure to get married. I know a whole heap of people who are already getting divorced. If you don’t want to be one of those people, a good way to try and combat it is to not rush into marriage. Notwithstanding staunch religious people who save themselves until marriage and all that, marriage really changes nothing for a modern couple. I got married and got a much nicer set of dishes and a great party to look back on. That is all. And everything I ever wanted to do, including children, I could have done without my Dansk set and memories of a certain Cotton Eyed Joe remix.

Finally, we agree that you should learn a new skill. Why not. You're not dead yet. You can even add this to the other Do, enjoying your sexual prime- your partner or future partner will thank you.

Then she makes some points which, to be kind, seem a bit self indulgent and fucking stupid. Some of the other gems though, which I doth protest, include the following: Don’t freak out about all the brilliant people who accomplish more than you by 30, Do travel, Don’t be bogged down by your past. Very well when you are a multimillionaire actress who people named “sexiest woman alive”. Until the day when I can boast both of those accomplishments, I’m going to go right ahead and be jealous. Jealous of the 30 year old CEO of a company I wish I had started, the 25 year old fashion maven who was noted as “the next big thing” and the author of every good book I read. Is it to say I will not be those things one day? No, I can be whatever I want to be and so can you but a little envy can be a good driver to actually get off your ass and get what you so greenly eye. I guess if I was a smoking hot superstar, it would be easy to brush that dirt off my shoulders- unfortunately, the average 30 year old has just spent their 20’s figuring their shit out, not being all famous and stuff. I appreciate the sentiment, Olivia, but it is easy to preach when you are high on a tower... Or something.

Don’t feel pressure to pop out kids- PLEASE TELL THAT TO MY BODY!!! Would not a lot be solved if this wasn’t a pressure you had to face in your 30’s??? This would be a nice one to just be all cool about- like, ya man, no pressure except for that if you don’t have kids by a certain age, you cant and if you wait until you are Hollywood norm age like Halle Berry, you had better have her superhuman genes or be prepared for a lot of issues. Again, if I was a millionaire famous person, I may not worry about not getting pregnant later in my 30s when it gets harder, there would be IV and the price tag on every treatment would be a total breeze. Don’t make all of us 30 year olds who actually worry a lot about having a baby in the near future feel like freaks. Unfair, Olivia.

Do travel? Pay for my motherfucking flights.

And finally, don’t be bogged down by your past. This is one I both agree and disagree with. Yes, your past is your past. It is over and you have probably learned a lot from it HOWEVER, I will contest that there a re more than a few people out there who could stand to remember a bit about what has happened to them in hopes that it will make them a better person. Par example, if you did something really shitty- you should remember so you don’t do it again, if you have succeeded in losing all your good friends, you should probably remember so that you can be a better friend to your new ones, everyone always dumps you? Try thinking about why. Reflecting on one’s past never hurt anyone- living in it def can.

So, in summation enjoy your 30’s and do whatever you can to best live them to their fullest before you start dealing with the perils of real aging. If you are lucky you will find yourself a better, more secure and wealthy version of yourself in your 20’s. You will have cut all the crap from your life (whatever that means to you) and you will be surrounded with love, goodness and positivity. Plus, they say 30 is the new 20 anyways.

Happy Friday all you 30 year olds out there (and all the rest of you too)

Xo,
J