5 Materialistic items that I love

1. Starbucks Green Tea Lemonade



Glorifed nestea with some ice in it buuut I love it anyway

2. Tarte Amazonian Clay Blush

luxx.com

A bright punch of color on a gloomy day. It lasts through 12 hours of Go train slumping, feverish exhaustion and the occasional pigeon fight. It comes in about 8 different colors and I plan to catch'em all one day,


3. Iphone 4


Dear Iphone 4:

I don't care how frequently the Anti-Apple brigade insults you. You quench my boredom during my commute, save my ass when I'm lost and I consider you a genetically perfected 5th limb.

4. Stila One Step complexion brush



1 pea sized drop of foundation and this brush can get you polished and blended in about 5 minutes flat. I have 20 minutes to get ready before I leave for the Go train station so anything that saves time is worth the money.

5. Nikon D60




I still want a Canon Rebel but the D60 is a good starter DSLR to practice with. I'm getting a good handle of coordinating the lighting with the camera settings.

Next up, practice customized settings!

I'm Categorizing You

"Angela, you're really quiet"

Along with "You are tall," "You have fair skin" and "You look really innocent", "Angela, you are really quiet" joins a list of observations so superficially redundant that I file it somewhere between I Am Asian and This is what my Face Looks Like.

I can usually judge a person's observational abilities based on how quickly they presume that someone is "quiet".

In my opinion, being quiet is a vocal inflection synonymous with being soft spoken or mild mannered. Being quiet should not be utilized or leveraged as a personality trait.

Over the years, I have deduced that "quiet" is the first word people pull out of their orifice when they simply don't know someone very well.

I find that people usually fall under three categories when they're in a new environment:

1) The Conversation Starters

You know the type, they're the super friendly ones that either knows or wants to know everyone. They always care about your day, if the lunch you made is edible (in my case, it's always a No) and what you're watching on Youtube (cat videos, okay?).

Conversation Starters can then be split into "People who Really Do Care" and "People Who Pretend to Care but are subconsciously/consciously waiting for their turn to talk".

Those who genuinely do care are kind souls that need to be cryogenically preserved so they can save humanity in the year 3050. Those who just want attention are an organic representative of Us Weekly headlines.

I don't judge you for it because like Us Weekly, your stories are often funny, entertaining and sometimes come with blurry cell phone pictures.

2) The Shy ones that don't want to be judged

Most people fall under Category 2. They engage in a friendly conversation but withhold personal information. No one likes to be judged by someone they just met. This is a time to be socially acceptable, dammit!

Remember the days when you thought I was as sweet as I looked?

That's my Nice Filter working at full capacity to constrain my snark. When I'm in a really stroppy mood, I crank it up with caffeine and sugar.

Category 2 people are usually talkative and very friendly once you get to know them. Like most of us, they've probably had the experience of someone judging them based on one off-hand thing they said that ended up being misconstrued. The next thing you know, there's a rumor going around that they've made out with a hot dog multiple times.

Yeah, that kind of stuff.

3) The Ones that just say "hi"

Ahhh, every one knows one of these. The ones that just go "hey man, nice to meet you" and goes back to their work. They're the ones that are usually deemed "quiet" or "unfriendly" if they're wearing a lot of black or have a Gucci wallet.

I've learned from experience that Category 3's like to avoid possibilities of awkward interactions by putting a short stop on verbal chit chat.

Sure you run into a few that presume they're so above you that your mere presence denounces their very existence but most of the time, Category 3's tend to be more guarded in nature, afraid that they might say something vapidly stupid or just exceedingly tired at the moment.

When I was in my first year of university, I once told someone who said "hi" to me that "the sky is very blue" after an all nighter.

The response looked like this: O_O

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Most of us never fit into one specific category when we're introduced to someone new. We exhibit scattered fragments or interchange them depending on our mood, the situation, our "feel" of the person, etc etc.

Describing someone's personality as "quiet" is a write-off, especially if you don't know them very well. I have never met a quiet person, only people who are shy about expressing their opinions or are uncomfortable under certain circumstances.

We all have a word filter, some are big enough to clean out an aquarium and some can barely sustain a guppy. The problem with forming channels of communication is that when you have someone who isn't aware of where they stand and what their role is in this environment, conversation often becomes difficult to sustain.

If you really take the time to get to know any person, you will usually find that no one is whom they seem and that everyone has some concrete opinion to offer.

Most of the time, I believe that we're all going through life upholding an image that we've been given throughout the years. Once you strip away all the superficial layers , we're all just really weird people in search of people weird in the same way that we are.

What stimulates you?

Every one has a thing

You know, a fixation, an obsession, something that excites you, sends you to your happy place and causes damage to your bank account.

For a lucky few, it's something economical like collecting seashells or rare pennies. I mean, 5 pennies on a 100 % inflation rate/decade and you might be able to exchange it for a Trenta sized drink from Starbucks.

My mother, for example, loves dolls and figurines. I can't blame her since she was a teenager in the 1970's and still likes wearing her pants up to her waist to this day. However, buying those creepy little dolls with the fluttery eyelids, the enhanced Megan Fox eyelashes and the bejeweled eyeballs makes her really happy.

Fact: Everyone is a consumer

This isn't negotiable (unless you're on Extreme Couponing) - we all buy things. The one piece of information I retained from Economics (besides how much I hate economics) is the principle of Utility.

Utility, as defined by wikipedia (please, like I could actually pull the definition of Utility off the top of my head) is "the measure of relative satisfaction". In layman's terms, economic behavior is determined by our attempts to stay in our happy place.

Or as Liz Lemon says, I want to go to there.

For me, it's blush. A new blush makes my eyes round and sparkly like Sailor Moon when she sees Tuxedo Mask. This, for example is my newest acquisition. It's Makeupforever's HD blush in Nipslip. (Please forgive the tiny black stripe on the left hand corner that throws the picture off)


It's all about perception. My mother stared at it and said. "Oh, it's pink"

No, Mother. It's not pink. It's a delicate peachy color that blends beautifully for that glow from within look. It's perfect for summer and makes me feel like I can wear a white dress and run through meadows, stopping only to feast on a picnic of honeydew and fresh pears.

Our personal fixations usually stem from a function. This is then followed by a positive emotion that reinforces the function and justifies our fixation. In some weird situations, this is what turns people into hoarders and collectors of lint.

If you really want to go deeper, I believe there is an emotional connection buried within our fixations. Sometimes it's elicited from childhood memories, sometimes it works to soothes our insecurities and boost our confidence.

The point is, we're on the pursuit of happiness and at some point or another, we've done it through purchasing things. Everyone has a fixation, you have to. The economy is dependent on what you like, how much you like it and how much more of it you want.

As long as you're not hoarding tin cans, buying $160 worth of blush at the same time and collecting used gum, I think its safe to like something if its function is to make you happy.

And no, that's not an excuse so I can buy Mac's blushcreme in Posey.

Theories and Concerns: Why are birds trying to kill me?

Fact #1: Birds hate me
Fact #2: I hate birds, but only because birds hate me

No, I'm not delusional, insane nor was I dropped on the head as an infant (although I did smash into the corner of a coffee table, resulting in a scar at the edge of my left eye), this is ~ srs business ~

When I was around 8, my parents and I used to live in downtown Toronto (I know, so hip for engineers) and after dinner, we would go for a walk around the Eaton center. This one day, I remember watching a pigeon fall from the roof of the tunnel that connected Eaton's to the Bay.

As a vapid little child with delusions of saving every creature in the world, I immediately ran towards the fallen creature (cue slow motion with dramatic music) and for a few seconds, watched helplessly as it struggled to retain its balance -- before a car smashed it into bloody pile of feathers within 5 inches of my face.

Oh.

Cue tears, crying, trauma, drama, blood on shoes (yes, the splatter went that far), more crying, etc etc. I basically made a huge fuss of it.

That night, when my mom manipulated coddled me to sleep, I told her through heaving sobs and leaking snot that I never wanted to see a bird ever again.

I'm sure my mother thought I would have gotten over it. Instead, 14 years later she still a 22-year-old kid who glares at pigeons and refuses to walk near them.

Ever since that Pigeon Incident, I've seen deceased birds at least thrice a week. Every time I see one, disgruntled irritation would diffuse my permanently neutral expression and I would feel annoyed at the lack of coolness of my wretched gift.

Why couldn't I have been blessed to see discarded pocket change on street corners? Instead of free coffee, I get to see a wide variety of avian creatures in varying stages of decay. I swear to god, if one passed away during winter and was buried under a sleet of snow, the universe would arrange it so that the sun would beam upon that one snow pile, causing it to melt and reveal the corpse just as I was walking by.

Then there are the bird attacks.

The balding and obese pigeon who lives in the Union Station that flies across my face on a daily basis

The seagull that won't leave me alone

The mass amount of bird followings I get despite the fact that I HAVE NO FOOD ON ME

My only justification is that in a previous life, I was a pterosaur and that birds (both deceased or alive) are attracted to my presence out of ancestry.

I love Nerds

Bought this today during my lunch hour. God, I'm such a stereotype.

I wish Queen Street was less fun (and expensive) to explore

Anonymous and synonymous

"Why don't you have pictures of yourself on Facebook?"

Ah.

If an Angela FAQ is ever to be constructed (and this will never happen because there will never be enough demand), this question will most likely be situated at the top of the page.

So why don't I have pictures of myself on Facebook?

Reason #1: I don't know how to pose in pictures and most of the time, end up looking constipated and confused. I feel like this terror must never be unleashed upon the world.

Reason #2: I'm an alien

Reason #3: How do I put this nicely?

Well, I can't.

So a condensed version would be: "It's none of your business"

It's really no one's business what I look like, what I do during my spare time, who my best friends are, who my boyfriend is, what events I attend, how I act in front of a camera, if I go to parties, where I work, etc etc.

For clarification, I don't judge anyone who does upload their social activities on facebook. I don't believe there's anything wrong with wanting to share with other people. Sharing is how alliances are forged, relationships are strengthened and TMIs become the root of a blossoming friendship.

I am a proud and unabashed lover of Facebook, lurker of many photo albums and creator of many mundane statuses.

For me, Facebook serves these following functions:

1) Keeping in contact with my high school friends
2) Making quick plans for lunch
3) Communicating with good friends who have moved away
4) Making observations through my statuses
5) Uploading sporadic images of objects / events that amuse me

If the function determines the product, I can very safely say that pictures of me are not necessary when I'm uploading pictures of a particularly fat pigeon.

The advantages and pitfalls of being really really tall

"Wow, you're really tall"

Yes yes.

At 5'11, that is usually the first comment I receive when I am initially introduced. I've heard it so frequently in my 22 years of existence that I often feel compelled to retort in the form of "OH MY, THIS IS BRAND NEW INFORMATION".

But I won't.

Because I'm a sweet and innocent creat - well, no not really. Mostly because I rarely express any visible emotions.

Now back to the height issue. There is just something about my proportion and and body structure (lanky with long legs and an admittedly slender frame) that tricks people into thinking that I am over 6 feet tall and thus, a creature of amazonian height.

Over the years, I have deduced 3 primary pros and cons to being my ~ excessive ~ height.

Pros:

1) Ability to breath within tightly confined spaces.

I am highly claustrophobic. I believe the only thing saving my ass from a complete and utter melt down on the TTC is my ability to retain some semblance of ~ fresh ~ Toronto air.

Also, the title makes me sound like a super hero.

2) Towering over people.

Both a pro and a con. In fact, this straddles both categories and often slips from one side to the other.

So when exactly is it a pro?

Only when you meet the acquaintance of someone easily intimidated and feel the need to express this in an indirectly negative manner. In this case, I will stare you down until you feel like a gremlin.

I believe in respect or at the very least, retaining enough respect to feign respect. If you don't have the decency to treat others as equals, I see no wrong in using my genetic advantages to teach you a prepackaged lesson.

3) Hanger type body structure makes clothing easy to find

While there are some cuts that I cannot wear (for example, tops cut tightly against the shoulders that makes me look like a line backer), for the most part I am well-proportioned enough to pull off most generic store items.

There are moments where I curse my ~ man shoulders ~ and wish to be a reasonable 5'6 but reasonably speaking, I don't have grounds for complaint.

Cons

1) Inability to wear heels without being over 6 feet tall

I've worn heels twice in my life. Both times involved people cranking their necks up to speak to me. I don't aspire to have a life where people complain of whiplash after talking to me.

If complaints are filed against me, I would prefer it to be about:

(a) My sarcasm
(b) My dry wit
(c) A combination of both with a hefty side of Awkward.

2) Having people ponder over your height upon initial introduction

This is especially terrible in China where they feel obligated to state the obvious.

"Oh my, you tall"
"Oh tall girl"
"Oh, you giant" (of course I am, in a country where the average height is 5'3)
"Oh, when you going to stop growing?"

Answer: Ne-vair. Not until I reach the skies and flounce around bouncy clouds.

3) Towering over people

I don't seek to intimidate everyone.

Only those who deserves the looming wrath of my dollishly empty stare.

Diary of an Iphone Addict: The buzz

source

As the owner of an Iphone 4 for nearly a year now, I believe the buzz is what defines our emotional / physical / psychopathic connection to our devices.

The Iphone Buzz is what I refer to as that strange tingle that rattles our pockets and vibrates our desks. It piques our interests, disrupts our train of thought and directs all attention to the Valley of Unknown Messages That May Or May Not Need Our Immediate Attention.

Unfortunately, The Buzz also picks up its share of useless emails. For example: Viagra advertisements, constant promotions from Coach despite my sole purchase of a cute keychain 2 years ago, gardening tips (O_O. Qué ?), promotional dog food , etc etc.

In my epic battle to detach my conditioned senses from my iphone ("No, Angela. You do not need to drop the dishes and run halfway across the house to where your phone is placed because The Buzz has picked up a new Ebay promotion"), I have placed my phone on silent for the past week. This means I am no longer notified of messages or emails with a mnemonic sound that sends me cavorting across any spatial capacity to check my phone.

Today, when my phone lit up with a new message, no longer did I feel that odd tingling that compelled me to read or reply the message in immediate detail.

I felt calm, collected, cool as le cucumber, thank you.

Improvement, I say.