Voice Chameleon

I find it a weird phenomenon how I always adopt the same tone of voice with people to whom I'm speaking - even if it's not anything like my actual voice.

I'd like to think I'm a pretty even-toned speaker. I don't have a super high, valley-girl-cheerful voice, nor is it deep and depressing. It's non-descript. But whenever I'm speaking to customers, I seem to take on this sugar sweet, butter-wouldn't-melt voice that, when I leave them, makes me wonder how they didn't punch me out of annoyance. Same goes for co-workers - part of me wonders if they think that I'm a total bullshitter who talks to them in super sweet way, but who is totally faking it. Mostly because I usually think that of other people. The thing is with me, though, is if I don't like you, my voice and face show it. It's somewhat of a problem.

My manager has a VERY cheerful voice, and I find that I talk like her when speaking to her face, and then end up thinking, "What the hell was THAT?" after I think about how I spoke to her. At least she's nice, and not annoying. I unfortunately did the same thing to a co-worker at the hospital when I first met him (yes, him) and he took that to mean that I was always that cheerful. I'm not. He is. We didn't get along very well.

The problem with adopting the same voice as the people I'm talking to, though, is that it becomes quite a shock when they find out that I'm actually pretty cynical - and cheerfulness to the point of sweetness drives me crazy. I still don't know why I do it, or how to stop it, but let me tell you - it's exhausting being that happy. I'll take dry and sarcastic any day.

Love,

M

"Where Are You From?

"What are you?" "What's your background?"

I've been asked some form of these questions by patients at the hospital, customers at work, Tim Horton's cashiers, people I'm meeting for the first time...and I don't really know why. I don't know that I've ever asked someone what their background is unless they have an accent, which I don't unless I'm drinking or talking out loud to myself...I mean, what? I was telling LM that I was recently asked if I was from Nicaragua, and she confirmed that, just looking at me, one may expect me to have an accent. I suppose it may be a bit of a let down, then, when I speak with a very Canadian accent.

Nevertheless, this question constantly catches me off guard. I usually ask for clarification, because I don't know what the hell they're getting at. Most times, though, whoever is asking is because they want to know why my skin colour is darker than the average white person. Now, I don't know if other people who have a more medium toned skin get this question, but I've been asked it so often in the past few months that I thought I would write a blog about it and get it answered here.

I am not Italian, Egyptian, African, Mexican, Brazilian (or any form of South American), Portuguese, or Native Canadian (all assumptions that have been made) - although sometimes I'll make something up just for fun ("Oh, yeah, I'm Mexican and Native Canadian - Ojibway tribe. My Native name is Tree Bunny Canoe Grass"). I'm Black Irish from my Mom's side, which means that I have Spanish blood mixed with Irish because of the Spanish Armada going to Ireland or something. I didn't research it in great length and I got bored reading it. I'm also French Canadian, though that's on my Dad's side and he is "average person" white.

Not as exciting as some hope, as I've actually gotten "Oh, that sucks, I thought you were [insert some nationality here]..." and I feel like I should apologize for not being what they thought. The best was when someone DID ask if I was Spanish, and when I said yes, they started rambling off in the language. I just stared at him.

First and foremost, though, I'm Canadian - many generations back Canadian, too! And that's the most important part of my "background" - everything else is just a bonus.

Love,

M

A Little Inspiration For My Beautiful Readers

 

Because who cares if someone doesn't like who you are? It's their loss, not yours. Don't apologize, don't try to change. Just be who you want to be. The people that mean something will appreciate, love, embrace, and celebrate all your quirks, faults, and intricacies, because they are what make you who you are. And that, sunshine, is someone who is pretty fucking special.

Love,

M

Bridesmaids and Red Wine

"Help me, I'm poor."

While this sounds like it would be a blog about every groomsman's dream, I have to disappoint the male readers out there; the title only refers to a night of good ol' brother-sister bonding over the movie "Bridesmaids" and continual refills of the red wine in our parents' basement (after the prerequisite questioning from him about my career choices and his voicing of concern for the scatteredness that is my life). I made dinner for the two of us (real spaghetti sauce - I'm basically a Food Network quality chef, no big deal) and we settled in to watch. Below are some golden nuggets of conversation and commentary from my increasingly intoxicated dear brother that are too funny not to share...

"Wanna get wine drunk? We'll drink wine and eat fudge and talk about boys."
--
M: Ok, let's take a break from the movie at 9 - I have to have a shower and then we can eat fudge.
Me: We're such girls.
M: Girls night!
--
M: This movie is you but you have a better car.
Me: I'm more successful.
M: Wellll...you were...now you live at home...
--
Remarking at the part of the movie when the main character - aka me - is playing tennis: "This part wouldn't be you becuase you wouldn't play a sport."
--
After he told me he was going to pay for my breakfast the next morning and I asked why: "Because you're poor and sad."
--
Speaking TO the clean eating fudge I made (it's so delicious! Find the recipe here) as he eats it: "I'm such a fatty. That's enough, this is it. I hate you, I hate you, I hate you..."
--
"This movie is all you, every character!" (Thanks big brother...)
--
M: She's wearing the bridesmaid dress! ...I'm so gay.
Me: No, she isn't.
M: Oh, good, that's less gay.
--
"Being a woman seems exhausting."
--
He was really getting into the movie at this point: "How is he the only cop in this town?!"
--
"Jon Hamm is awesome."
(If you've seen this movie, you know how bad it is that he said this. In actuality, my brother is a really sweet guy. I promise.)
--
"That's a sweet ass wedding thing. I'd get married in the water."
--
K arrived later on in the night - and the wine - and was received very enthusiastically by both of us:
M: K's here!
Me: Hi K, do you want some wine?!
K: I'm going home.
--
K: What'd you do all day?
M: Went to the gym, crushed the workout, no big deal.
--
K: I can't wait until you get grey hair.
M: Why? Then I'll look like George Clooney.
(This was directly after he tried to convince us that he isn't conceited.)

Hope you enjoyed reading the latest escapade of my crazy family. I know I enjoyed living it!

Love,

M (the writer of the blog, not the brother!)