2013-05-24T19:13:25-04:00 Kaitlyn Kochany http://www.huffingtonpost.ca/author/index.php?author=kaitlyn-kochany Copyright 2008, HuffingtonPost.com, Inc. HuffingtonPost Blogger Feed for Kaitlyn Kochany Good old fashioned elbow grease. tag:www.huffingtonpost.com,2013:/theblog//3.3063051 2013-04-12T08:22:05-04:00 2013-04-12T08:22:50-04:00

Kaitlyn Kochany http://www.huffingtonpost.com/kaitlyn-kochany/
Ah, but what kind of party?

Having a friend over: The one-on-one hangout is reserved for like, best friends. If you try to force it, you'll end up feeling super awkward and making I Spy-style small talk, where the two of you blather on about whatever happens to be in your line of sight ("Oh man, you use cast-iron cookware? That is awesome!") until you can figure out a way to bolt/eject them from your house. If you are actually friends with this person, however, this is a prime opportunity to talk smack about all your mutual friends and feel only slightly ashamed. (No gift)

Having some buds over: When your boyfriend says he is "having some buds over," what he really means is that he and three dudes are going to watch horror movies and play video games until their brains turn to souffle. You'll come into your living room to find four young men, covered in Dorito dust, in a vegetative state. Make sure to save their progress on the video game machine before you revive them. (No gift)

Having some people over: This is the true swing state of parties. Depending on how many people show up, and how much booze they bring, you can have either an impromptu rager or a sedate get-together. This is also the party most likely to get out of control, since if you invite 10 people, and they all bring 12 beers, someone is bound to suggest a game of yoga-ball soccer or try to jump from the roof of the porch into your neighbour's tree. Likewise, if you invite six people and they each bring two tall cans, you might find yourself mired in a discussion of someone's recent wedding. It's tricky! Also, these hangover tend to be doubly epic since you accidentally get blind drunk. (No gift)

Birthday party: Once you're legally able to drink, nobody is excited about aging any more. Girls will likely cry, while boys will drunkenly try to fight their brothers in the street. If it's your birthday, have a cake; if you're going to a birthday party, bring something as a gift. Don't be an empty-handed jerk. Also, someone is probably going to barf in your sink. Just a heads-up. (Mandatory gift)

Soiree: Referring to your party as a soiree is basically ensuring that some douchebag lights an enormous Cuban cigar in your bedroom. (You will never, ever get the smell out of your mattress.) That guy will also wear his shoes in your house and hit on your friends using tricks he read about in a book. (Optional gift)

Games night: OK, this is important: some people actually mean they play games when they invite you over for games nights, while others play a perfunctory round of Apples To Apples before everyone decamps to the kitchen for a regular party. I've been at games nights that start at 4 p.m. and end at last call, where only a few drinks were had and we powered through, like, six different, set-up-intensive board games. It's important to clarify if you're only there for the inevitable (drunk) Cards Against Humanity, or if you're seriously down for a three-hour game of Settlers of Catan. (No gift)

Gathering: Ugh, nobody likes going to a "gathering."

Holiday party: Holiday parties exist in this weird no-man's-land where you can't get too drunk, so you end up eating your way through the cheese plate. Nobody really enjoys holiday parties, but we do many things (circumcision, for instance) out of tradition. (Optional gift)

Dinner party (potluck): Damn, I'm tired of eating nine different kinds of bean salads at potlucks. Buy a coconut cream pie from the expensive grocery store and be everyone's hero. (Mandatory gift)

Dinner party (grown-up): If you're hosting, don't invite vegetarians because those jerks will make you serve roasted tofu and that's unforgivable. Also, buy twice as much wine as you think you'll drink, because sitting around the table gossiping is thirsty work. If you're attending, bring something to drink after or before dinner -- wine is hella overplayed, but some Campari or port is a nice touch. Also, don't bring your children unless they're still small enough that, if you put them in a laundry basket, they can't escape. (Mandatory gift)

House party: When I was in school, we used to hold house parties that would literally destroy our lives. It would be three days of prep, kegs, 40s in the freezer, dressing up, eyeshadow, someone barfing in the bushes, someone OD'ing, and someone setting off the fire extinguisher in the basement. This was also the time we experimented with our sexuality, including ill-advised encounters with dudes in sweatpants, our girlfriends, and our alcoholic housemates. These were not amazing parties, but we kept having them because it was much cheaper than going to a bar and getting that spine-meltingly hammered. Maybe you did things differently? (Even if you brought a gift, the hostess will lose it sometime during the night)

]]> tag:www.huffingtonpost.com,2012:/theblog//3.1917383 2012-09-27T00:00:53-04:00 2012-11-26T05:12:02-05:00

Kaitlyn Kochany http://www.huffingtonpost.com/kaitlyn-kochany/
I feel for you, man. I really do. I mean, it's got to be tough going out there for you right now: it seems you've been reduced to radio-show bluster and toothless trade missions to American cities, roundly mocked for your recent court appearance during which you demonstrate the depth of your ignorance to a tantalized Twitter audience, and revealed, over a serious of missteps in both the media and city hall's chambers, to be not so good at the governance part of your government job.

It's important to remember that the first, best, and group to which you are beholden is your constituents. They are, ultimately, the reason Rob Ford is in office: they're the ones who cast the vote, who read the newspaper when you triumph and fall down, they're the ones to whom you have made promises. And Rob Ford, before he took office, had a reputation for excellent customer service.

But it's true that not everyone in Toronto was on board with Ford before he took the title of "His Worship." Folks who lived downtown -- and here, downtown is defined as "not the suburbs" in the same way that Manhattan is defined as "not Queens" recognizing that both places have their own sense of urbanity, priorities, needs, and identities, while also acknowledging that those don't always overlap -- were wary of Ford and his bombastic promises to stop the gravy train.

The gravy train, it turns out, is what keeps the city going, because it's actually more of a meat-and-potatoes train: social services and administration aren't a luxury. So even as there's a large number of voters in Toronto who were, and remain, firmly on Ford's side, there were also the people who weren't enthralled with his policy suggestions and his public persona.

Remember, Rob: you represent them too. So even though you might think you're only talking to your supporters, you're beholden to all us downtown lefty cyclist pinkos too.

It's true that the media has been watching all this play out with a devotion that would border on freaky if it wasn't their job. You've given them so, so much to comment on: missteps, mixed messages, leaderless moments in city hall, all topped off with the cherry of antagonism. Of course they don't like you. Your job is to be the face and the leader of the city in which we all live, and sometimes, you're not so good at it. They are very good at their job, which is reporting on you.

But Rob, you know who trips you up the most? It's not Daniel Dale or the plastic bags. It's not Twitter or Clayton Ruby or Ed Keenan. It's your own damn self. You, Mayor Rob Ford.


You consistently fail to meet the minimum that is required of you, and you tout meaningless events as major victories (see: your football coaching, which should be a line in your bio, not your raison d'etre). You don't play nice with others: not other councillors, not large swathes of your constituents, not the media.

You don't seem like you have an understanding of your role: for example, after gun violence broke out in the city earlier this summer, you reacted by promising to export anyone with a gun conviction out of the city. You changed the conversation from one of mourning and anger to, well, "WTF?"

You consistently confuse and muddle the script, making it almost impossible to work with you. You alienate when you should reconcile. You disturb when you need to soothe. You leave when you need to lead.

Rob Ford, you have two years left in office. Two years, which you've pledged to spend campaigning for your next term in office. And thus, the cycle would continue. May I suggest a different course of action? It's obviously silly to suggest you change your style. You are Toronto's shouty mayor, a role that might make some of us cringe but that some will point to will pride. You are red-faced, through and through.

But harnessing that style -- making it work for you, and for the city -- is possible. You can become a bulldog, barking about how much you love this place. Not some of it, not just the parts who voted for you and whom you coach in football, but all of it.

The queers, the disenfranchised black kids, the hippies, the policy wonks. Surround yourself with people who know things, and make use of their knowledge. Not yes-men: people who challenge you in a way you can listen to. I'm not asking you to become a queer disenfranchised black hippie; I'm asking you to start respecting those that are.

You strike me as a man most comfortable making it up as he goes along; learn how to learn. Running a city is different from running a business or a football team. Learn why. This is info you should have picked up much earlier in your term, but hey, better late than never.

I know that municipal politics can be cutthroat and that you like power, but you can no longer treat Torontonians like they're intruding on your needs when they demand that you screw up less. Be proud of the place you're from and the office you were elected to; honour both by being the best mayor you can be.

I know you think you're already doing that. Rob. Mister Mayor. No. You need to start asking for help, asking questions and listening to the answers. You have to start trusting that people you think of as political foes aren't trying to mess with you. Leave that kind of belief at Don Bosco, because it's so high school. Be the bigger man. Take a meeting. Take notes.

Most of all, think critically about the vision of the future you're trying to create. What kind of Toronto do you want to govern? What kind of city do you want to leave behind?

Sincerely,
Kaitlyn]]> tag:www.huffingtonpost.com,2012:/theblog//3.1688178 2012-07-20T12:10:32-04:00 2012-09-19T05:12:38-04:00

Kaitlyn Kochany http://www.huffingtonpost.com/kaitlyn-kochany/
As we were clearing the plates, she asked me, "Do you want kids?"

I stammered out an answer. Yes. No. I don't know. I don't want kids right now, when my relationship is younger than most toaster warranties and my work contract is set to expire in a few months. I'm unsure that my body can even produce kids, given all the weird stuff that my reproductive system has gotten up to. And even if I can, I'm still not 100 per cent sure that I want to.

She smiled at me sympathetically. "Well, some women just aren't meant to have kids."

Hold up. Record scratch. What?

I blushed and changed the subject: How is work going? Light banter. Let me help you with those plates.

Inside, I went into a swoon of terrible feelings.

I felt stupid for even engaging with the question, with an acquaintance who, given all recent evidence, wasn't going to be able to really hear a note of ambivalence in a child-talk conversations. Not that this is my fault, necessarily, or that I should have pretended I feel something I don't; rather, just an acknowledgement that it can be difficult to refocus and see an issue from a perspective you don't share.

I was also horrified: not being ready for child-raising right now doesn't preclude me from changing my mind later. It's not like the requirement for having loved and wanted children is that you must have always wanted them.

I was angry. There's nothing as enraging as having someone who is so much farther ahead in the game of life -- this lady is a married homeowner with six years of stable employment under her belt -- condescend your lifestyle or choices.

And I felt sad, as though she had cursed me with a lifetime of childlessness by diagnosing my mixed feeling as a forever-and-always state of affairs.

I felt like getting pregnant right that moment, out of spite, as if I would drag my boyfriend into their guest bedroom and yodel out mid-coitus, "Who's not meant to be a mother now, lady!?"

In hindsight, that's probably not the most mature response.

As we go through the process of growing up, settling down, and making those Big Choices that will affect us the rest of our lives, it's important to remember compassion for those who aren't on the same path. It's especially important if your path has been two lanes of smooth, freshly-paved highway, where the only disappointments are when the gas station is sold out of your favourite gummy snacks.

My own path has been more of a gravel road with a blind curve or two -- no major accidents, but my car has some dents and the backseat is piled with Diet Coke cans. Since I'm competitive by nature, I envy, resent and admire the women whose paths seem so smooth. Maybe they aren't, but it's impossible to tell with an acquaintance who, on paper, is pretty damned impressive.

Since it's unlikely the child-talk will abate in the next few years, I have some requests:

That, when the topic of children comes up, you remember that not every woman wants children. They may have never wanted kids, they may not want kids right now, and they might simply be undecided. If and when you ask them if they want children, be prepared for a stammering answer, one that is trying to convey that the question might not have a simple answer.

In fact, to remember a woman isn't automatically obligated to answer the "do you want kids" question, just by virtue of owning a uterus. This is like asking everyone you meet if they want backpacks, just because they have shoulders. Having kids is a personal decision, one that affects women and the men they partner with in deep, private ways. It isn't really a casual question.

If someone does tell you that they don't want kids or they're on the fence, that you not respond with "Some women just aren't meant to have kids," or some variation on that theme. This should go without saying, but given my recent experience, I feel like I should spell it out.

I don't know what the right response would have been. Maybe a vague platitude about timing, or choices. Maybe a silent smile. Maybe an assurance that nobody has to decide anything today, or even -- and this might have been the best of a bad bunch -- a question about how I had arrived at my ambivalent place on the fence. Instead of dismissing a response that made her feel uncomfortable, she might have taken the opportunity to exercise some compassion.

Because really, if you are planning on becoming a parent, or even just a grown-up, the importance of empathic listening and compassionate conversation can't be understated. Practising with strangers at dinner parties is one way of making sure that, when your kids do finally arrive, you're ready to really hear what they have to say.]]> tag:www.huffingtonpost.com,2012:/theblog//3.1549703 2012-05-29T08:20:15-04:00 2012-07-29T05:12:04-04:00

Kaitlyn Kochany http://www.huffingtonpost.com/kaitlyn-kochany/
When you decide to make your grand escape, there are some basic summer cottage principles to keep in mind:

Leave your computer at home. Same with your smartphone, or any other tech-toy that ties you into work mode. Cottaging is a vacation time, to visit with friends and family, and if you've marooned yourself in the bedroom to finish up spreadsheets, you're missing the point.

Cottages are often much less spacious than regular houses: bedrooms are smaller, bathrooms can be microscopic and common spaces, like kitchens and dens, can have folks tripping over each other. Friends you love having dinner with in the city might become people who seem constantly underfoot, so plan time alone -- both truly solo, and with just your partner/children. If you're feeling cramped in your little house, take advantage of the much larger natural world. Get outside. Swim in the river, go for a hike, sunbathe (use sunscreen!) on a beach. Sure, those are all available in the city, but how often do we use them? Treat the great outdoors like an extension of your cabin.

Don't go overboard with the programming, especially if you have kids. You may find that some structure (maybe in the form of a day camp) can be helpful, but one of the nicest things about getting away from TV and video games is that kids are often forced to come up with their own entertainment. Be prepared for lots of drawings, sand castles, child-created card games with unfathomable rules and dramatic reenactments of Disney movies. Bring some comic books in case you get a rain day, but trust your kids to engage in imaginative play.

If you're visiting friends at their cottage, bring your hosts a gift. Comestibles are an especially popular choice, because mealtimes are often casual, communal affairs, usually focused around the grill. Bring big hunks of meat to throw on the barbecue -- sausages, fish, steaks, what-have-you. Vegetarians are well-served by fresh asparagus or portobello mushrooms. If food isn't an option (long travel times out of the city in a hot car aren't known for their flavour-enhancing qualities), grab booze. Beer or wine can be stashed away and hauled out throughout the week, often at that magic, post-swim, pre-supper time where everyone is feeling hot and tired from the sun. For the cottagers who abstain, due to either age or preference, bring lemonade or artisan crackers.

Going in a different direction, you may choose to bring a cottage knick-knack. Although lots of people seem to think that cottaging "style" is a bit more lax than your regular condo-dwelling decorating, please refrain from bring those plaques that say things like, "If it's yellow, let it mellow," because...gross. Gifts like hammocks, beach towels, great summer reading books, cozy couch blankets and picture frames are much preferred: just because you're at a cottage, you don't have to bump your style levels down to "dowdy."

Get used to the idea that time will run a bit slower. Families that usually sit down for dinner at 5:30 sharp may find themselves setting the table at 7 p.m., and folks who usually wake with the sunrise might sleep in. Bedtimes might become more flexible. Keep everyone hydrated and fed, and let the days unfold with a more languid pace.

Use your vacation time to hit a reset button. If you've had a stressful few months -- kids are going bonkers, work's been hectic, no time to spend with your partner -- the time away from your usual triggers in the city can help reconnect with your family and your values. Don't be afraid to talk about how to keep the vacation energy going at home. Maybe you'll barbecue more, maybe your kids will take an art class, maybe you'll go out on date nights more often. Use your time at the cottage to help recalibrate the rest of your life, and to prioritize the kind of relaxing family connections that going to camp can bring you.]]> tag:www.huffingtonpost.com,2012:/theblog//3.1501491 2012-05-14T07:52:58-04:00 2012-07-14T05:12:04-04:00

Kaitlyn Kochany http://www.huffingtonpost.com/kaitlyn-kochany/ Glamour published an article called "30 Things Every Woman Should Have and Know by the Time She's 30." According to the Huffington Post, this article took off like gangbusters -- women were emailing it to their friends and coworkers, and the editors of Glamour eventually tracked down 30 prominent lady-types to write essays on each of the 30 entries.

The list is divided into two sections: fifteen entries on things women should have, and another fifteen on things we should know. The "to have" section read like a shopping list, albeit one filtered through an empowered attitude: Make sure you have a black lacy bra and a cordless drill by the time you hit your thirties, girls, or else you won't have really made it! The "to know" section is a little looser, but uses the same Zen-lite attitude that permeates women's magazines. There are instructions on "how to kiss in a way that communicates perfectly what you would and wouldn't like to happen next," which I'm sure is totally just as effective as using your mouth to say words like "no" and "I don't want to." Neither section really captures the unbelievable amount of work women in their twenties do as they transform themselves from teenagers to adults. It's a lot. It takes more than a trip to Home Depot or Victoria's Secret.

I'll be thirty next year, but I've got some ideas on how I would write that list.

To Have:

1. A friend you can call to help you move. Don't let those people go -- they are vital to your personal economy and should be handsomely rewarded.


2. "Your" addiction. What -- sugar? Diet colas (yum -- that's mine)? The gym? Cigarettes? HBO shows? What's the thing you do that drives most of the people around you mental? Pick one -- you don't get to be addicted to cocaine and bad boyfriends.


3. A really great outfit. Glamour said this too, but I think they meant a really posh outfit, like for job interviews and other adult-style events. This outfit is the one that makes you feel totally fly. I love baggy sweats, skater shoes and a puffy vest, because it makes me feel like a mid-'90s backup dancer, and totally confident.


4. Your charity (NB: this is NOT YOUR BOYFRIEND). Maybe you do volunteer work, maybe you donate, but everyone needs to give back.


5. Some great female role models. Not models, or actresses or other women whose primary value to the world is how they look; I'm talking about writers, musicians, politicians, business owners, and entrepreneurs whom you can admire.


6. Your signature dishes. Have one for brunch potlucks, vegetarians, picky kids, and impressing your date. I suggest bean salad, buttered noodles, and a roast, in that order.


7. Your creative outlet. Non-negotiable. Gardening counts, as does blogging, cooking, making up cocktails, and re-arranging your apartment. Watching movies and playing Guitar Hero does not count.


8. A person in your life who makes things good for you. This can be a partner, a friend, a family member or a workmate -- if you're lucky, you have many -- but this chum is a source of laughs and support.


9. A game to whip out at parties. I like Munchkin for nerdy gatherings, and Kinks for a drunken party game (everyone puts in two kinks or fetishes -- one of their real ones, and a red herring, and folks go in turns trying to match 'em back to their owners; not for the easily shocked).


10. A library card and a credit card. They are both tools. Treat them as such.


11. The ability to be bored. Put down your cell phone and iPod, and try entertaining yourself in a doctor's waiting room, in line at the bank and on the bus. Boredom allows your mind to wander to places you can't go if you're always playing Angry Birds.


12. Your favourite body part. I've got gorgeous eyes and an unbeatable rack, which definitely helps balance out my chunky-ass curves. Even if you're not wild about your total package, your delicate neck or strong hands are a total asset and your crush is probably daydreaming about them right now.


13. At least one PG-rated story about a date gone horribly, hilariously wrong. Turn it into a party story where you are charming and self-deprecating. Tell it to the impressionable teenage girls who latch onto you at weddings.


14. A really cozy sweater, blanket, or duvet. I know I said this wasn't a shopping list, but seriously, just get one.


15. A hairstylist who knows what's up. If your cutter needs to straighten your curly hair before she can cut it, you're at the wrong place.

To Know:

1. Figure out how many drinks take you to tipsy, charming, bottom-of-the-ocean depression, fighting-mad and asleep at the bar. Stick to the first two.


2. Your sexual style. I loved my 20s, and they were a time of exploration, but as I approach 30, I know what I like, and how to bring it up with my partners. I rely on words to communicate preferences.


3. How you like to stay fit. Yoga, Zumba, Nia, step, weights, long bike rides, sprints, stilt-walking, stripping classes, whatever. I don't care. Find a way you like to get sweaty.


4. Whether or not you're good with money. Some people have spreadsheet budgets, while others rely on dipping into their purse and pulling out loose twenties. Either way, you have no excuse to beg your landlord for lenience.


5. Accepting that there is at least one person out there who hates you, and probably another who is envious of you because of the person you're sleeping with. This probably has nothing to do with you.


6. Are you a pet person or a kids person? Maybe both? Cool. Neither? Also cool.


7. How much time in front of the TV or computer you can handle before you go a little nuts. Aim for, like, 75 per cent of that.


8. What type of place energizes you. Do you love the ocean or the prairie? Do know love office camaraderie or the calm of a home workspace?


9. If you are actually allergic to gluten/dairy/soy/whatever. If you aren't, please, I beg of you: no more intensive conversations about your bowels at brunch.


10. Whether or not you are a Diva Cup girl. And then seriously, can we stop talking about our periods?


11. What not to apologize for. If you are a workaholic, own it; if you only have the mental energy for a part-time job, cool. If you like women or kink or prefer to be alone; if you don't want kids; if you haven't put a down payment down on a house, you owe the world exactly nothing in way of explanation.


12. How to take downtime.


13. How to work really, really, ridiculously hard.


14. How to quit a job. Getting hired is tough; knowing when to walk away is tougher. Know your limits and work within them, and don't get pushed around because you "need the money."


15. How to be there for the people you love when they go through hard times. People are going to die, go to rehab, have terrible divorces and breakups, get behind the wheel of a car after four shots of liquor, cheat, lie, run up astronomical debt, have abortions, attempt suicide, drink too much, quit their jobs, get fired, go to jail, develop intensely irritating grad-school affectations (cocktail parties with these people are the worst), move away, throw tantrums, owe money, give you terrible presents, get married to people you hate, and generally fail. Cultivate your forgiveness, your grace, and your listening ears.

]]> tag:www.huffingtonpost.com,2012:/theblog//3.1435520 2012-04-20T10:20:14-04:00 2012-06-20T05:12:02-04:00

Kaitlyn Kochany http://www.huffingtonpost.com/kaitlyn-kochany/
There's no definitive reason for not having a cell phone, although the spectre of being constantly in touch was pretty gruesome. I like privacy. I like returning calls at my convenience. I've never left my landline in a cab, or dropped it in a bar toilet after too many whiskey sours. I feel zero pressure to upgrade to a fancier handset every year. Like renting movies and tap water, landlines are a call back to a slower and less technologically frenetic time. It's not nostalgia that drives my commitment to my home phone; it's the desire to commit my whole brain to my task -- talking on the phone -- instead of fragmenting my time into a thousand slivers of unusable connection. I'm young -- 28 years old -- and I realize that my multi-tabbed, multi-tasking lifestyle needs mono-tasking balance.

I'm one of the 21 per cent of Canadians who don't have a cell phone. According to one research firm, we're not likely to get one, either, and we're not exactly a growth market. But just in case you're friends with a throwback like me, here are some helpful hints and tips for dealing with us stuck-in-the-past weirdos.

Leave a message. I have an answering machine, the kind that results in hijinks on sitcoms because some hapless character overhears something he shouldn't, thanks to a machine that broadcasts the message into the room. Many older home phones don't have caller ID, so if you have the option of leaving a message, please do.

Understand that we will get back to you. My friends kvetch when I'm not home, but I get their messages and call them back. It may not be instantaneous, but it will happen.

Don't text us. I mean, you can -- we get your texts, and they are read to us by robots, which is one of my favourite things ever. (True story: depending on your cell phone provider, if you text "LOL" to a landline, the robot will either say "loll" expressionlessly, spell out L-O-L, or -- my favourite -- cackle maniacally.) However, once we listen to the text once, it's over. It's not in an inbox somewhere. We can't refer to it later. If you're making plans or conveying important details, call us. We'll get another retro tool -- the pen and paper! -- and take notes.

Somewhat disingenuously, I've done my best to cultivate a wide network of people who have cell phones, and encourage my friends and family to call them if they need to get in touch with me. My boyfriend has over 10 entries in his phone that link him to my friends and family. "I'll be with Rachel, you can text her to meet up!" is a common refrain in my house. I carry quarters for the payphone, and I try to keep plans and am punctual. There have been moments when a cell phone would have been useful -- massive subway delays, last-minute changes of venue -- but these are few and far between.

It's 100 per cent possible to have a thriving personal and professional life without carrying a cell phone all the time. Even if you need one, understand that just because people can reach you 24/7 it doesn't mean that they're your priority. One of my pet peeves is when someone pulls out their cell phone when we're mid-conversation and texts. It's a blatant middle finger to our conversation, a not-so-subtle signal that I'm easy to dismiss. Landlines have two options -- talking or not talking -- and it forces me to acknowledge that I either need to talk the person on the other end or I don't.

It's important to remember than constant communication doesn't always equal good communication. Smartphones, cell phones and landlines are all tools to be used to that end, and so it doesn't really matter what kind of phone you have. I may not be fancy, but I will totally call you back, and that's the whole point.]]> tag:www.huffingtonpost.com,2012:/theblog//3.1401647 2012-04-04T10:47:16-04:00 2012-06-04T05:12:02-04:00

Kaitlyn Kochany http://www.huffingtonpost.com/kaitlyn-kochany/ their commercials by barking "You feel sad for the lamp? DON'T!" at unsuspecting family members from time to time. But actually shopping at Ikea? Ay carumba.

For those of you who have never been, Ikea is a wonderland. It's also a hellhole. Let's go together, yes?

Enter the gigantic blue building through double doors. To your right? A children's playground where the kids are being cared for. They are likely chucking ball-pit balls at each other or crying in the middle of the room. Don't worry! This is normal. That child is only crying because there's a five-foot-long stuffed ant hanging from the ceiling (the theme of this childcare is "forest") and it will haunt his dreams forever. You can check them in there while you shop! When they've exhausted themselves through playing/hiding from the ant, you'll be able to pick them up and take them to the cafeteria. Make sure they are crying by then, or else they'll feel left out.

Wander upstairs. Grab a cart. Feel your sense of optimism -- look at all these storage solutions! Be charmed by the faux-Swedish names of things. Oh, a Borgnine convertible sofa. Adorable. A chaise lounge woven from wicker and bamboo. Sustainable. A loft bed that will save space and also sway like a drunken pirate when you attempt to make love in it. Remarkable. Feel a creeping sense of despair that the Ikea showrooms are nicer than anything you've ever owned? Hang on to that feeling -- you'll be needing it when you attempt to put your new dresser together using only Allen keys and curse words.

As you pass through the displays, note that the stylish display clothes are bolted to the walls and the display books are all in Swedish. Idly pick up a book as your family members debate the merits of the Svang chair when compared to the Jagerstruedel rocker for 57 minutes. Note that "idiot" in Swedish is "idiot." This will come in handy in the checkout lines.

Coming to the bedroom section, look around you at the children's rooms. Wonder if Swedes have a notion that childhood should be as Seussian as possible. Become irrationally attached to the bed canopy that gives the appearance of a covered wagon. Fall deeply in love with the small-spaces display -- a daybed! A kitchen with little sink dividers! Fantasize about becoming an interior designer who specializes in treehouses and cruise ship cabins. Reject this fantasy when you realize how much school will be involved for what is probably a fairly specific market. Hate your day job.

Realize that you haven't seen a window to the outdoors in three hours. Or a bathroom. Realize none of the fake bathrooms have toilets.

Head downstairs to the small-items and pick-up zone. Pick up 13 different styles of vases. Reject six. Reject nine. Carry around four vases until you find your shopping partner, who will have been staring at knives for 10 minutes with a vacant expression on his face. Force him to carry the vases, and the tea towels, and the gingerbread men cookie cutters, and the 100-pack of candles, plus plates, plus a 17-pack of off-brand Tupperware. You will be dragging a rug behind you like an animal carcass; you can't carry the vases. Your hands are full.

Arrive at the warehouse. Consult the list you've compiled of items you want: dressers and beds and tables and entire kitchens, nay, entire apartments. You will see "aisles" and "bins" in your scrawled handwriting. Make sure you have been accurate! The warehouse is about the size of metropolitan Detroit and twice as depressing. The aisles and bins contain your choices. If you change your mind about colour, know that your alternate choice could be in another bin, in another aisle. Why? Because the warehouse has been designed by an algorithm written by a computer. Human beings would never do this to one another. The Geneva Convention would not allow it.

Once you've piled your new furniture onto your cart, go the checkout. If you've come on a weekend, you are a fool. Wait in line for 45 minutes. Weep softly, if no one is watching. On the other side of the cashier, there is a commissary with 75-cent hotdogs and pasta in the shape of caribou. Coffee and fountain pop will never be as sweet as it is today. Over and over, pick up and set down the same candle holder with the absentminded grace of a sedated nun.

The rest is challenging, but you can go at your own pace. Load your hatchback with heavy boxes and stuff the empty spaces with vases, frantically trying to get onto the freeway with zero rear visibility and weighing an extra 700 pounds. Setting up your new belongings will take three hours longer than anticipated and require, in addition to the Allen key Ikea has sent home with you, a cordless drill, a stud finder, a hammer, a square-head screwdriver, and the help of your least stupid family member. Know that what you have made can never be unmade, because disassembling Ikea furniture is a mission for only the foolhardiest of movers. It's easier to chuck it out and start again.

On the plus side, we can all agree that Ikea's 99-cent chocolate bars are second to none, and they sell lingonberry soda, which will lead to much quoting of The Big Lebowski if your companions are the least bit human. Maybe you can watch The Big Lebowski tonight, as you sit on your new couch and idly wonder if the whole thing is going to collapse.]]> tag:www.huffingtonpost.com,2012:/theblog//3.1373413 2012-03-24T15:26:19-04:00 2012-05-24T05:12:01-04:00

Kaitlyn Kochany http://www.huffingtonpost.com/kaitlyn-kochany/
Now that I'm older, the seasons are supposed to contain one long, unbroken string of employment: my summer job should be the same as my Christmas job. It's tough not to feel nostalgic, though. Summer jobs offer a fair amount of flexibility and freedom, and there's a light at the end of the tunnel: heading back to school in the fall is a deeply ingrained part of my psyche. Work four months, go to school for eight. Wash, rinse, repeat.

But if you're looking for work this summer, start early. Once you're back from spring break, start looking at job boards and calling old bosses. If you can't start right away, be open about the fact that you're in school -- most bosses don't mind waiting a few weeks for the right candidate to come on board, especially if they can do the interviewing and hiring ahead of time. Don't wait until school lets out in April or May. By then, the super-premium jobs will have been snapped up.

Take risks. Apply for jobs that are outside your wheelhouse, especially if you're still in school. I strongly encourage folks to try getting in touch with their creative sides; so much emphasis is placed on making boatloads of money after graduation in order to repay student loans that some folks will otherwise never get a chance to, you know, play. Conversely, if you're studying something arts-n-lit related, try your hand at some office skills-building. Everyone should know how to write a great letter, make a spreadsheet, and take a comprehensible message. If there are holes in your academic background, now's your chance to fill them.

If you can afford it, try an internship. The non-profit sector might not pay, the corporate sector will, but neither makes you rich. However, internships often offer a much more enriching experience than a typical entry-level position. You are encouraged to network, to take on short-term projects, and an internship is a great resume-builder.

If you can't afford to be an intern, try volunteering a couple hours a week to build your resume -- your school or local community centre will have suggestions on where you can help out. Avoid overextending yourself, though: I had plenty of friends who worked two, three, or four jobs during the summer to make as much money as possible. They all, somewhat unsurprisingly, burned out (if not during the summer, then during the school year, when it hurt more). Downtime is important. Use your summer break to take an actual, you know, break. I repeat: Downtime. Is. Important.

For something completely different: travel! Pick a city, any city -- Vancouver, Dublin, Toronto, San Francisco -- and expand your worldview. You might not save as much money, but you can rest easy knowing that's only for a few months. Like your creative side, your worldly side can get a boost that might not be as available to you once things like "permanent positions" are on the horizon.

Take the long view. Employment opportunities aren't amazing for freshly graduated students, so if you can build a relationship with a company in your teens or early 20s, you might be able to turn that into more long-term employment later on. Talk with your supervisor about guaranteeing a position for the following summer. If your school schedule allows you to work into the fall, take advantage of the chance to both make more money and impress your supervisors.

No matter if you're just starting out or have settled comfortably into your career, remember to have fun: summer is stuffed full of long weekends, beach days, trips to the air-conditioned mall, and drinks on the patio. You might have to work those long weekend and give up some of those beach days in the name of making money, but enjoy the little things: a walk in the sun, a cool drink outside, and your well-earned paycheques.]]> tag:www.huffingtonpost.com,2012:/theblog//3.1327829 2012-03-08T13:26:07-05:00 2012-05-08T05:12:02-04:00

Kaitlyn Kochany http://www.huffingtonpost.com/kaitlyn-kochany/ way more about human nature by living with dozens of housemates through the years.

I've lived with wonderful people. I've lived with jerks. I've lived with people who have stayed sequestered in their rooms for most of the year, people who came drunk at 4:00 a.m., folks who smoked all manner of illicit and ill-smelling substances indoors, and one memorable girl who let her pet rabbit poop all over the kitchen table. I've learned from all of them.

I was in the unusual position of not having a choice in who lived with me -- housemates were assigned seemingly at random by the student housing administrators. If you're lucky enough to choose your roomies, you may find that the issues which threatened to tear my house apart will be muted, or never show up at all. Then again, you may find yourself with rabbit poop all over your kitchen table.

Talk to your roommates. Do this at every opportunity: when you interview them before they move in, when you come from work, and when they do annoying stuff. The urge to ignore problems in the name of "keeping the peace" can be incredibly strong, but problems are usually best dealt with when you address them quickly and directly. Annoyed that your roommate never takes out the garbage? Irritated by beard trimmings all over the bathroom sink? Say so. By addressing each incident in the moment, you avoid having a blow-out with a litany of complaints six months down the road.

Cultivate a house where people talk to each other. Housemates aren't always friends, but everyone should feel safe and respected when they approach a roommate. If you're on the receiving end, feel free to tell someone that you can't talk right now -- you've just gotten home or you're heading out the door -- and ask if you can sit down in the next 24 hours. Keep your tone neutral, and try to avoid getting defensive or aggressive. If you've made a mistake, apologize. Talking = working through the issue = good.

That said, avoid emails and notes. Notes, unless they apply to everyone in the house on the same level ("FYI: plumber coming to fix sink"), often aggressively single one or two housemates ("Paula and Jamie: DO YOUR DISHES!!"). Email is more private, but both suffer from a lack of tone-signals: what we send out as neutral is often perceived as hostile. Avoid this and talk to people directly.

Make rules. Things like cleaning schedules, financial transactions, and quiet hours need to be talked about with everyone. You might need to schedule house meetings if you have a lot of housemates, or you might need to grab a drink with your roomie on the fly and hash things out. Write this stuff down and post it on the fridge. Refer to it. Ask your guests to respect them. Revisit your rules when new people join your household, and rework them if you need to.

Common areas like kitchens, gardens, and bathrooms create the most conflict, so pay special attention to them when you write up your house rules. Scheduled cleaning days might seem like a drag, but it also creates a sense of accountability -- plus, house bonding! Splitting chores can work (I'll always empty the dishwasher if you always tidy the front hall), as can asking the question, "Hey, just how messy are you?" when you first meet your prospective roomie.

They say that 90 per cent of life is showing up; that counts double with a rent cheque. If you can, pre-write cheques to whomever handles the finances. Be prompt paying for rent, utilities, Internet, cable, house food, and other expenses. Rates tend to increase every year, so be prepared when your roommate tell you rent has gone up a few dollars. If you're late with your rent (a huge no-no, by the way), cover the late or NSF charges, or avoid that altogether by being early with kind of stuff. There's nothing as fraught as negotiating finances, and having to chase the money makes everyone feel like a jerk.

On a serious note, mental health issues often rear their head in our 20s and early 30s -- the time we're most likely to live with others. Symptoms of addiction, depression, eating disorders, anxiety and others often come through in incredibly anti-social behaviour, making those folks difficult to tolerate. I'm not advocating for you to take on your roommate's alcoholism, but if you see a pattern that makes you worry, reach out if you can. I've lived with some deeply troubled folks, and it can be extremely tough on everyone day-to-day. There are resources. Use 'em.

Some houses are tiny -- a couple friends sharing a teeny little walk-up -- and some houses have 17 people living together. If you choose to live with others, be discerning about who you invited into your space. That runs in reverse, too; you don't need to move in with the first person you meet. Finding yourself a good match in your roommates isn't lucky -- it's a result of hard work. When you come out the other side, you'll have stories about good friends, mortal enemies, and a rabbit that pooped all over your kitchen table.


]]> tag:www.huffingtonpost.com,2012:/theblog//3.1294271 2012-02-27T14:48:26-05:00 2012-04-28T05:12:01-04:00

Kaitlyn Kochany http://www.huffingtonpost.com/kaitlyn-kochany/ stumble into a friendship with an ex. Deciding to stay friends is an act of bravery, but it's one that attests to the fact that even though you and your ex are no longer in love, it's still possible to like each other.

Almost everyone, in the early moments of a breakup, says, "But I want to stay friends." The dumper uses that line to assuage guilt, while the dumped considers friendship a useful tool in winning them back. In both cases, the friendship isn't a result of two people genuinely liking each other; there's a hidden emotional subtext that's covered in dirt, bad feelings and weirdness. "But I want to stay friends" isn't a binding contract. Feelings will change, and a friendship that seemed impossible in the first few days after a breakup will slowly start seeming like it has a chance, and vice versa. If you've said, "But I want to stay friends," you're under no obligation to stick with that.

Also, take some time apart. Some folks set the clock at six months without contact, other say half the total time you were together. Whatever formula you use, there's no denying the benefits. Refocus on what's important to you -- not for the relationship, but your own needs and wants. If, after a few months, you and your ex get together for a coffee, you may decide that pursuing a friendship is a good idea. Awesome! Or you might decide that this person is a human trashpile. Also totally fine! This transition is rarely easy, and putting pressure on yourselves to get over the relationship and into the friendship doesn't help. Being alone helps you ask yourself: How much do I like this person? How much do I like myself when I'm with them?

There are a few different forms a post-relationship friendship can take. You might go through some or all of these before you settle. Take your time.

Friends With Benefits: Losing your sex life can be one of the most daunting things about breaking up. In an effort to avoid celibacy, some exes never stop having sex. On the outside, this looks an awful lot like dating, but both parties insist that there's no romance -- they're just getting their rocks off. Unfortunately, this makes it tough to move on, grieve, or meet new people. Many exes who try this find themselves back together, and because the focus in being Friends With Benefits is willfully not on the emotional connection, the re-couples usually encounter the same issues that forced their first breakup. It's possible to avoid that by talking frankly about boundaries and expectations, but it's also complicated by the emotional hangover of the breakup. Seriously: take some distance.

Neutral: Best described as "friendly, but not friends," this requires almost no work and zero maintenance. These people exchange small talk when they run into each other on the streetcar, wish each other happy birthday on Facebook, and basically have no real communication. There's no ill will, per se; they just don't want to be a part of each other's lives after the breakup. This is pretty easy to accomplish after a short, breezy relationship, and doubly so if you don't run in overlapping social circles (did someone say "Internet dating?").

Hate: In the weeks after my first real heartbreak, I made an effort to spend time with my ex in a misguided attempt to prove that, despite being brutally dumped, I was still awesome. He couldn't care less; he had already started dating someone else. After a few months of misery, I realized that I was angry. Like, really angry, and being around the source of my rage was eating me alive. I cut off the "friendship" because the benefits of staying in touch were not outweighed by the drawback of having to spend time with him. It may take a while for you to realize that, after the relationship ends, you don't actually like your ex all that much -- betrayal or infidelity has coloured your perception of them to a degree that you can't pretend to like them. Friendship? Off the table. Don't feel bad about it.

The Faux-riendship: When these exes get together, conversation consist of things that don't get said. Fake friendships aren't built on real openness, but a mutual desire to shove things under the rug and pretend everything's fine. If there's a lot of sexual tension, or if one ex brings up "the good old days" a little too often, or if you avoid talking about new partners (theirs or yours), or if you have nothing to talk about but keep hanging out anyway, then the faux-riendship has you in its grasp. It's not a tragedy -- with more openness, you can upgrade into an Actual Friendship, and with less, you can slide into Neutral territory -- but it's tough to maintain for long.

The Actual Friendship: This is the real winner: when there's no (or few) residual feelings from the relationship, when both people are integrated into the other's post-breakup life, when hanging out isn't fraught with sexual tension or words unsaid. These rare friendships take months or years to develop. There are boundaries -- every friendship has areas that just aren't really talked about -- but the mutual affection dwells in the present, rather than trying to preserve the past.

RELATED ON HUFFPOST: CELEBRITY EXES WHO STAYED FRIENDS
]]> tag:www.huffingtonpost.com,2012:/theblog//3.1269686 2012-02-11T10:27:51-05:00 2012-04-12T05:12:01-04:00

Kaitlyn Kochany http://www.huffingtonpost.com/kaitlyn-kochany/
I stared at him. He was right, of course: the guy is thoughtful, generous, loving and kind every day of the year. But his reticence about V-Day still bothered me a little because if he was comfortable showing his love for me, why couldn't he do it on the day that's traditionally set aside for doing just that?

Few holidays inspire the mixed reaction of Valentine's Day. Some folks think it's the most romantic time of the year -- a day of of chocolates, gifts and flowers. Others pooh-pooh Feb. 14. If you're single, it can be stressful to watch couples get moony with their love together; if you're with someone, panic sets in as you search for the perfect token of your affection. Little kids get angsty over the classroom Valentine exchange and adults treat it as a barometer that measures the health of their love life. It becomes easy to get lost in the red-and-pink fog. Valentine's panic isn't uncommon, so sidestep the messes by keeping a sense of humour and planning ahead.

Talk about expectations. Some folks don't celebrate Valentine's Day, or keep it very low-key. If you're expecting dozens of roses, jewellery, a fancy dinner, a sexy lingerie show, or nothing at all, mention it. People can't read your mind and it's a much nicer day when everyone's on the same page.

Don't leave it until the last minute. If you're thinking about going out for a romantic meal, lock down your table well in advance. Some kitchens manage the crunch by sticking with a fixed menu; call ahead to ensure that your favourite dishes will be on offer. Order flowers and buy cards the week before, and be flexible. Flower shops, restaurants, jewellery stores, and other Valentine's-related vendors and venues experience a spike in demand around Feb. 14 and there's nothing worse than a romantic I.O.U. given with a sheepish grin. Things sell out and time is finite.

Be wary of the hype. Advertisers put a lot of pressure on Valentine's Day and it's become a convenient post-Christmas sales boost for jewellery merchants and stationary stores. There are plenty of ways to show affection that don't require a big financial layout, so if you're celebrating, don't feel like a trip the mall is obligatory.

I remember feeling pretty ambivalent towards Valentine's Day when I was a kid. Do I have to get cards for the whole class? What do I write? What if I have actually have a crush on someone?! Horrors. Just like adults, children often find mass declarations of love unsettling. Your kids can write personalized notes to their friends and everyone will be fine with "I'm glad you're in my class" or a short-but sweet compliment. Graciousness is the name of the game, so remind them to thank classmates for Valentines and distribute theirs to everyone.

If you're in a happy relationship, take pleasure in your time together. Celebrate! Even if things aren't perfect, or your relationship is too new for declarations of love, take a moment to tell your partner that you're glad they're in your life. It's a sentiment that needs no accompanying gift or card and is a sweet way to express your feelings.

If you're single, you can relish playing the field, or be glad you're not in a lousy relationship. Don't feel like it's necessary to hook up with someone just so you're not dateless on the 14th -- hit the gym, watch a movie, organize an night out with your other single friends. Resist the urge to take the day seriously and instead, filter it through a light-hearted attitude.

No matter what your romantic situation, there's always something to smile about. Valentine's Day is once a year, but the sentiment -- love is nice! -- is a year-round kind of thing. My boyfriend and I eventually decided to compromise: we celebrate other anniversaries instead of Valentine's Day and tell each other "I love you" no matter what day it is.


ALSO ON HUFFPOST: ADVICE FOR SINGLES ON VALENTINE'S DAY By Sofi Papamarko
]]> tag:www.huffingtonpost.com,2012:/theblog//3.1218832 2012-01-24T13:36:18-05:00 2012-03-25T05:12:01-04:00

Kaitlyn Kochany http://www.huffingtonpost.com/kaitlyn-kochany/
First things first: investing in the proper gear can make a world of difference in your quality of life. Miserable rides are bound to happen, but you can make them a little easier to handle by preparing your outfit and your ride for the elements, whether it's cold, wet, or both.

For clothes, a warm hat that covers your ears is key and a brim to help deflect snow or rain is great help. Warm, waterproof mittens or gloves will help stave off dreaded handlebar freeze, so invest in a pair that aren't going to let your hands get wet. And, I can't believe I have to say this, but there are hotdoggers out there: a helmet. Any bike ride should find you wearing a helmet, but that goes double in the winter, when slips and falls are much more likely. Dress in layers that can be easily unzipped or removed; winter riding will warm you up, but damp, sweaty clothes will be chilly. Your personal style can be adapted for your winter cycling outfit, but remember that comfort, visibility, and warmth should trump your cute-yet-useless beret.

As for gear? Fenders! Fenders are amazing -- they keep the slush off your back, which is so helpful in wet weather. Other must-haves are lights -- a red one for the rear, a bright white for the front -- and a bell. Those are both mandatory under Ontario law, but become life-savers on dark nights. Make sure your lights are as bright as possible, and if you ride in areas that don't see a lot of winter cyclists, you can invest in reflective clothing or tape to further illuminate yourself or your bike. A rag to wipe off your wet seat and to get stuck-on slush out of your frame is smart, too.

Other helpful technology? The coaster brake. Remember your first bike, the one that stopped if you pedalled backwards? That was a coaster brake, and they're handy in very cold temperatures because they're less likely to freeze than cable-based systems. If you plan on riding in extremely icy conditions for a long time, you can purchase studded tires (the studs act like snow chains and provide added traction), but those are really only helpful in icy conditions. Otherwise, a thick-tread tire -- like the kind found on mountain bikes -- can help with traction, while narrow tires cut through the snow.

Before you start riding, remember to check your bike, especially if you've parked it outside. Make sure the brakes aren't frozen, that your lights work, that your gears haven't seized. Do this before you hop on, lest you find yourself tipping over with no brakes. When you get home, give your bike the spa treatment: wipe down any crusty snow or salt accumulations from the frame and rims, clean and lubricate the chain as needed, and keep an eye on things like tire pressure and brake response. Riding through the winter takes a little bit more TLC, but the payoff is that your spring tune-up will be fairly straightforward.

When you're on the road, stay calm and alert. Winter cyclists are a bit of a rarity -- drivers may not be expecting you. Use your lights and bell, signal your moves, and make eye contact as often as possible; making sure drivers have seen you goes a long way in feeling safe. Often, bike lanes aren't ploughed in heavy snowfalls, so choose alternate routes that have clear, dry streets. You may ride more towards the centre of the lane than you're used to, but that's okay -- just make sure you signal and maintain visibility. Don't wear headphones, since weather can often affect how loud traffic sounds. Most of all, make sure you feel safe. There's no shame in pulling over to catch your breath after a close call with an icy patch.

I'm not going to deny that winter cycling can be tough; it's hard on your bike and takes a measure of planning that leisurely summer rides don't. Like any other winter sport, it has its pitfalls. But winter riding is also lots of fun; it builds character, keeps you fit and can seriously help with commute times. It's also exhilarating to arrive at your destination with a helmet tucked under your arm, getting to say yes when people say, "Did you really bike here?" ]]> tag:www.huffingtonpost.com,2011:/theblog//3.1169583 2012-01-02T00:02:12-05:00 2012-03-02T05:12:01-05:00

Kaitlyn Kochany http://www.huffingtonpost.com/kaitlyn-kochany/ last year you're going to be working that job you hate. I feel for you guys. New Year's resolutions often revolve around how much better our lives are going to be once we magically develop willpower sometime between Christmas Day (so full!) and New Year's Day (so hungover!).

Job satisfaction often plays a major part in fantasizing about your new, perfect next year. Some of you are heading back to jobs you like, but due to economic circumstances at an inaccessible corporate level, cronyism between the boss and his newly-graduated, unemployed nephew, or some other extenuating circumstance that's going to make your awesome job a crummy job, you're going to find yourself looking for work.

First of all, congratulations on your new opportunity! I have some advice for you. I feel especially beholden to you if you quit after some girl on the Internet gave you unsolicited advice, but many people end up jobless for lots of reasons, so I hope I can help y'all out. This is coming from my perspective as a 20-something professional late bloomer, so it may not feel especially relevant if you're an accomplished/later-life type, but maybe you'll find something in here that makes unemployment smart a little less.

Don't panic. Like The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy says, just don't. Panic for one afternoon -- maybe the afternoon you give your notice or get your pink slip. Knock off work an hour early, call your friends, and make them join you for pre-dinner drinks. Complain loudly about your workplace and rehash the story at least three times. That will make it easier to tell your parents, partner, or roommate the next day.

If you're quitting, have a game plan. Smart kids know that having three months' worth of living expenses in the bank is a savvy move and in this economy it might be wise to have an extra three socked away. I'm saying rent, food, and travel for six months -- if you're accustomed to purchasing lavish handbags on a regular basis, you are going to be sad when you first step foot inside the discount grocery store where you now shop.

If at all possible, have another gig lined up, but don't be too hard on yourself if that's not possible, either because you needed to leave suddenly or because you're being asked to go. Once you're out, take time to regroup. People think they need to go directly from one job to the next, but in my experience we all need a little decompression. Have a staycation, go to the movies in the afternoon, sleep in, and get over the fact that you left or lost your job. Grieve a little. It's natural.

All right, so you've got your money in the bank, you've taken a week to feel your feelings and now you're back out there, ready to conquer the world (or at least your electoral district). Here are a few helpful things to remember:

Network like crazy. When I got hired for my current job, my boss told me that she had gotten more than 400 responses for the position. Internet postings and want ads have high response rates. Don't count on being able to cold-call companies or getting calls back regarding resumes you send out. Look at who you know, especially people who are doing things you're interested in. Take them out for coffee. Pick their brains. Put it out there that you're looking. Ask your friend who works in HR to look at your resume, or take it to an employment centre and have it professionally critiqued. Short-term work will likely surface first. Take it. You'll enjoy the money, and it will give you an answer when your new potential boss asks you what you've been doing since you left your last job.

Make a schedule. I checked a dozen different online job boards throughout the week and sent plenty of inquiries. This was overwhelming, so I broke it out into two different tasks: Finding jobs and applying for jobs. First, flag everything you might be qualified for or interested in. Click on all possible jobs. Then -- and this is the important part -- take a break. Go for a walk, bake some muffins, call your other unemployed friends and see if they're free to go buy discount groceries. Close your laptop and clear your mind. When you come back, you return with a fresh set of eyes. Maybe, on second thought, you're not qualified, or you think it might be boring, or you hate that company. That's cool. Set a minimum number of jobs you want to apply for in a day or week and make those count.

Get out of the house. Being between jobs can be isolating -- your friends are working and you're broke so you can't go out anyway. Job hunting is hard and kitties on YouTube are enticing... The next thing you know, you've fallen asleep with your computer on your chest and you've slept until you wake up hungry. Let's just agree that's not the goal here. Getting out of the house has many names: Working out, meeting friends, running errands, volunteering, going to church, getting creative, and so on. Staying in touch with the rest of the world is imperative to staying sane. It emphasizes the same sleep patterns, job tasks and to-do lists as those who are gainfully employed and it keeps you in good practice for when you land something. Like networking, tell your friends and family that getting out of the house is one of your priorities and use the buddy system to make sure you're seeing people regularly. If you've got unemployed friends, check in with them and make sure they're getting out.

Use resources like the library, university or college job training, employment centres, and more. Most municipalities have some kind of system in place for those who are looking for jobs and they can help you. Some offer free courses, job placements or help defray costs. It can feel a little demoralizing to ask for that kind of help, but the feedback you get can be very supportive.

Take every interview. If you send resumes and cover letters into the void every week, you might hear back from one or two a month. Use those interviews to practice your skills. Are you punctual? Dressed professionally? Did you bring your references? Have you Googled yourself lately to see what kind of incriminating stuff pops up? You might think this is basic, but nailing it on the little things helps solidify you as a good potential employee. Use each interview as a chance to showcase your talents, to practice talking about your skills, and to be immersed in the working world.

However, don't feel obligated to take every job that's offered to you: Wait for something good. Right before I got my current position, I interviewed at a cafe. I could have done it in my sleep and they offered me the job on the spot. I turned them down, even though I was hungry. Working in a cafe like I had done for years made me feel like I was going backwards -- I couldn't do it and I knew that if I took it, I would quit. If you take a job you know you're not going to enjoy, that's fine -- just understand that you'll eventually quit, or become bored enough that you get fired, so you'll be looking all over again. Maybe not now, as Bogie says, but soon. Invest in your future by taking jobs that you can enjoy for the long haul.

Don't forget to breathe. It's scary out there, but something will come. If you're not getting any bites, refresh your contacts and cast your net a little wider. Take short-term jobs. Ask for help. Stay positive, but feel free to express frustration. Get more training. Pray, if it helps. Volunteer -- sometimes unpaid jobs can turn into a paycheque. Always believe that you're worth hiring -- fake it, if you need to. Get plenty of sleep and plenty of fresh air. And never, never, never give up. You will find something. ]]> tag:www.huffingtonpost.com,2011:/theblog//3.1139250 2011-12-12T00:25:04-05:00 2012-02-10T05:12:01-05:00

Kaitlyn Kochany http://www.huffingtonpost.com/kaitlyn-kochany/
Every year, it's the same cycle. Maybe this year will be different, we think as the snow gently wafts down around us. Maybe it won't get so cold. Maybe it will only snow in gorgeous, picturesque fields, perfect for snowmen and snow angels. Maybe the driveway will shovel itself, the buses will still run on time, and we all won't get low-grade colds that get passed around the office. Maybe this year will be different.

Obviously, we're kidding ourselves. Canadian winters are always a little tougher than we expect. We've been relatively lucky in Toronto so far this year, and the snow has contained itself to inoffensive little flurries that melt when they hit the ground. Despite long-range forecasts that predict arctic winds for the West Coast and heavy snows for Ontario, the country has mostly been spared anything horrible... so far.

So, in the interest of having a safe and short-feeling winter, here are some tips to getting to April with your sanity still intact.

Keep exercising. It's so tempting to curl up on the couch with a bucket of artichoke dip and wave away anyone who suggests that maybe your new slugging agenda is bad for the arteries, but movement is so important to our health. The gym may be less appealing in the cold, dark days, but experts suggest getting at least 40 minutes of heart rate-raising activity each day. Get off the bus a few stops early and walk the rest of the way home. Book a weekend ski weekend with your college friends. Take the kids sledding. Hell, get a jump rope and skip in your garage. Exercise is good for your muscles, sure, but it also helps keeps the winter blahs away, and you won't be so horrified by your reflection come time for bike shorts weather in the spring.

It can feel impossible to eat like a rational human being in the face of holiday parties and buffets, but it can be done. Identify the foods you usually gorge on -- for my sister, it's gravy; for me, it's chocolate and cheese -- and keep a watchful eye on your intake. Make sure you get veggies along with your turkey, and keep your portions in the realm of the sane. I usually have a small snack before I go to holiday parties -- an apple fills up stomach space that would be otherwise occupied by cookies. Mmm. Cookies.

Plan a holiday. There's a tendency to go into hibernation mode between Christmas and spring, but allotting some time to get away for a weekend breaks up the monotony of endless gray days. If you can afford it, head south -- the longer days and warmer temperatures can perk up even the dullest-feeling SAD-sufferer. If you can't take the time or spend the cash, do a short-range trip: a trip to a secluded B&B that offers snowshoes, or a big city for a special concert. Even playing hooky from work one afternoon to hit a museum or a spa can give you that vacation glow.

Winter often feels like an uninspiring time of the year, so plan some projects. if you're going to be trapped inside -- except for those daily walks! -- at least don't give in to the temptations of the screens, both computer and TV. Plot out your novel, throw a party, paint the bathroom, try baking a cheesecake, or make the great Canadian winter short film. Head to your local library or bookstore for inspiration -- you might be your neighbourhood's newest authority on Danish dance music, or re-caning chairs, or hybrid car maintenance. If you are going to watch loads of TV -- I'm not your mom; you can do whatever you like -- knitting is a soothing accompaniment, and at the end of it, you have a scarf.

When you're heading out, remember that Canadian winters are notorious for their unpredictability. Give yourself time to get where you're going -- traffic will be slower than in July, the streetcars will be delayed, and it will take longer to suit up for the commute. Building in the extra time to get where you're going can help cut down on abashed "I'm going to be late" calls to work, and you'll end up feeling more accomplished and smarter.

The most important thing to remember is that eventually, it will end. While winters here feel interminable, we look forward to the spring with a passion bordering on lunacy. So enjoy the change of seasons -- the first snowfall is always sort of magical, no matter how old you are -- and know that, in a few short months, the leaves will be unfurling and the crocuses will be poking up through that last late snowfall. Nothing lasts forever, not even winters in Canada.]]> tag:www.huffingtonpost.com,2011:/theblog//3.1097682 2011-11-19T08:30:08-05:00 2012-01-19T05:12:02-05:00

Kaitlyn Kochany http://www.huffingtonpost.com/kaitlyn-kochany/ Boy Meets World, Step By Step, Family Matters and Muppets Tonight, all of which provided the middle-school equivalent of water cooler talk for the following school week. In junior high, my Friday nights were synonymous with casual family dinners, the occasional sleepover/pizza party, and then gluing myself to the TV for a ritualistic dose of sitcom merriment. I got popcorn and soda pop, made myself a pillow fort, and my sister and I would hunker down to watch mindless American television.

It was great.

Weekends are chocolate fudge brownies after a liver-and-onions workweek. They're a massage after a trip to the gym, a cold shower on a hot day. They're a necessity -- after working with people all week long, downtime is a restorative and soothing balm. Some social scientists say the difference between introverts and extroverts isn't gauged by how shy or outgoing a person is. Instead, it's all about where one draws their energy from. If you feel more alive after spending time with people -- be it friends, work colleagues, family members or strangers -- you are an extrovert, and you are likely going to fill your weekends up with social engagements and parties. If you find yourself needing some serious alone time at the end of the workweek, you fit into the "introvert" category. Don't fret! Think of your alone time as recharging your batteries so that you can continue your enjoyable habit of being interesting and awesome in social situations. Weekends are a prime time to get some downtime for us introverts, and for the rest of you, they're a happy 50-hour break from wearing office-appropriate shoes.

When I was a kid, Saturday mornings meant waking up at the crack of dawn to watch Thunderbirds reruns on TV; for my parents, Saturdays meant getting out the vacuum cleaner, dusting the living room, and raking the lawn. My dad often made lunch for his kids, including ichiban noodles with banana peppers that I remember as being terrifyingly hot (they're hilariously mild -- these days, I eat them straight from the jar). Sometimes my parents would crank up the stereo as they cleaned, and with the drone of the vacuum and the clanking of pots and pans, it was impossible to sleep in. When I was in high school, I resented the early-morning clatter, but now that I'm older, I want to make sure every weekend moment is used well.

One of my favourite things about my grown-up weekends is the chance to spend some time in the kitchen. My parents usually fired up the grill and opened a bottle of wine on Friday nights; Sunday mornings are now pancake-and-bacon time at my house. During the week, we tend to rush through meals, but on weekends, I like to spend a little bit more time with my food. Bake those fresh muffins, slice up that cantaloupe, get the expensive sausages, and really let loose. For others, the best way to relax is getting outside -- the Saturday afternoon glut of fathers and kids on the local ice skating rink, or the family car ride to the beach, are weekend staples. I also enjoy getting together with friends for a drink or three, or browsing through bookstores or clothing shops. Doing something a little different is the watchword for weekends -- as an added bonus, it brings us closer to our loved ones.

The big asterisk here is that I'm not a parent. Once you add kids into this equation, weekends inevitably get more hectic. There are Saturday morning classes to arrange, sleepovers to supervise, households to tidy. I think of my parents and their weekly cleaning ritual, and know that if they didn't have three kids and three kids' worth of toys, books, school papers and clothes confettied all over the house, they could probably have eaten caviar and gotten couples massages on their Sunday mornings. But, instead, they had kids, and kids make messes and then wander off to make other, different messes. And then they need a ride to karate lessons.

I treat the workweek like chore central: I go to the grocery store, I hit the doctor's office, I return all the emails, and I water my plants. It's the droning life-maintenance checkmarks that need to be ticked off. Keeping work out of my weekends allows me to feel more flexible, so the things I end up doing on Saturdays and Sundays are just for pleasure and fun. Getting in some solo downtime, hugging with my boyfriend while we browse for comic books, and eating a plateful of homemade nachos chased with a cold beer? Why, that's just Saturday night. ]]>