It's never a positive thing when someone rejects you. It may not even be a personal thing, but it sure does feel like it. The gut-wrenching agony of knowing your best just isn't good enough. It's a dreadful feeling to be told you aren't wanted, even in the politest of terms it's down right awful. Unfortunately, it has to happen over and over again.

Job hunting isn't easy. Not in this economy, not in this city even. Competition is fierce and money is always running short. Few companies are willing to train anyone, so they demand entry level applicants already have experience. That way they don't have to waste money on training. Unfortunately, it blocks a lot of young people from getting hired and starting their careers. No one gives us a chance because it's too much money and too much risk. I try not to blame employers, they have businesses to run. It's hard not to cast blame though, when I look at my very empty bank account and try to find something to keep myself occupied while I wait for the next phone call. Sometimes it's weeks or months before I get another. Sometimes they'll have me trek all the way into the city for an interview, paying peak transit fares, only to never call me back not even to reject me. I spend money to see these people, and they don't even have the courtesy to send a template email saying they were sorry. They can't be bothered.

I get it, life and business are a flurry of things to do and people to see. I'd like to help and be a part of that world. So I'll smile and do my best to make an amazing impression. When, or if, they call me to say I didn't get the job I'm still in professional mode. I greet them warmly, respond positively and act as graciously as humanly possible. It's only decent and I want to present my most professional self even in a difficult moment. So when someone tells me over the phone that I'm not good enough, that they found someone better, I thank them kindly. I wish them and their business well while offering my gratitude for even the tiny chance at a job. It's unfortunate, but now in these tough times I'm grateful for even a polite rejection.

I give in really easily, especially to people I care about. I always do my best to please those that matter. I try to make even strangers happy. I like to spread smiles and do my best so others feel their best. Sometimes though, the weight of it all crushes me.

I got  to my lowest point earlier this year when I had been crushed over and over again; my kindness was abused by someone I truly cared about. I fought to put that behind me and learn to only do what I can.  I give a lot of myself, but not everything. I too deserve to feel my best just like the others I'm always trying to help. I moved on and made new friends. I found another very special person who has helped me see that there is a balance between doing good for others and doing good for myself. This balance has helped me find happiness. I created positive change in my life and I am determined to keep it that way.

This week my determination was tested. Do I give of myself too much once again? Do I let someone else's happiness override my own well-being, just because they are in need? Do I accept the hurt and the sorrow, simply so they don't have to face a situation of their own creation?

"No."

It was difficult, but it was the right choice. I'm happier for it and I won't let anyone use my kindness against me ever again.

~Dana

I have always heard that once you hit rock bottom, you can only go upwards. I took that to mean that when everything goes wrong and I have to start over, that I will eventually be able to bring good things back into my life. Effort would be required, as it always is, but I would still find happiness. I clung to this ideal when life got rough this year.

Then, on one of my darkest days, something surprising happened. A positive and optimistic presence entered my life. The tears stopped. The frustration melted away. The hurt faded. In time, all that was wrong finally started to become a memory. This good influence on my life gave me the strength to believe in hope again. I remembered what it was like to be honestly happy, and not wearing the facade of happiness while I juggled emotional hurt and general frustration with life below the surface.

I'm not saying the new presence caused my happiness, I do not need to rely on something or someone outside of myself to be happy. What happened was that positivity reminded me about all that is good in life and all the good I have to look forward to in my future. By coming to terms with whats happened and remembering I have more to do as I move forward, I was able to find peace with myself and ultimately find my own happiness again. Hello, personal joy, I missed you. I won't let negativity steal away my awesome optimism and internal contentment. It's a lot more fun this way.

Dana~

Living in the Lower Mainland for most of my life, I should be accustomed to walking around at night. I grew up in Surrey, right around Guildford Mall. The area was peaceful, but always known for gang activity. My family kept me indoors at night unless we went out together. But still, I was never afraid really. Late at night, I could walk from our house to the Mac's store three blocks away without being scared. It was a breeze to me.

In 2012, I moved to East Richmond so I could be close to my college and my parents closer to their work. I started using public transit alone for the first time to get to class every day. I was always hyper aware on transit, protecting my bag and keeping an eye on those around me. When my classes ran late and I had to take transit at night, I began to feel nervous. Thank goodness my college was right next to a SkyTrain station. The only worrisome part was waiting for the bus home from the SkyTrain station nearest to my neighbourhood. But it happened to be well-lit and often transit police hung around that station since it was such a popular stop.

Now that I'm taking French night classes in Vancouver though, I have to walk quite a few blocks to the SkyTrain long after dark. The people look different without daylight to reveal their features. I'm sure most of them aren't bad, but you can never tell a person's intentions especially in the dark. My route is not really well lit despite being in the downtown core. I walk by quite a few bars and their rowdy patrons too. I feel as if each passer-by gives me a strange look, their faces distorted by the shadows. My fears seep in and suddenly all those people who seemed normal in the day could be potential threats. Is it the darkness that creates these monsters? Is it my own mind? I know to be aware in general as anyone can be bad. They could steal your belongings or hurt you for the sake of it. Overall, though, I should not fear all people because you can't live like that. Besides, even though we all have the capacity for evil, I doubt the majority are any different from myself. Still, late at night on my way home, I feel the hairs on the back of my neck tingle. My stomach flip-flops and I hug my bag tighter. I guess I'm going to have to start walking with my keys between my fingers, just for peace of mind. Maybe I'm paranoid, but I was sure thankful one of my friends lives near by and is willing to take me part of the way home some nights. The shadows might be in my mind, illusions of the dark, but I would still prefer to be safe rather than sorry.

Dana~

So job hunting is never an easy task. I mean, with my skills and experience I could enter a variety of fields... It's just that my resume competes with 2000 others every time. Too few jobs here for way too many job seekers. So after almost a year and a half without steady work, I decided to step my game up. Time to learn a new language!

As a writer and professional communicator, second languages are always a bonus on your resume. Especially since I live and hope to work in Canada, where we have a diverse population and businesses that must communicate on an international level. While I have always had a particular interest in other cultures and I've pick up a few words in Japanese, Korean, Russian and Spanish from my reading addiction...I am not fluent in anything other than English. Like most Canadians though, I studied French in school. I wish I had kept it up, but the skills I did keep allow me to read most French writing and understand the concepts. I figured that was my best bet to learn a second language since I already had a fairly good grasp of the basics.

Next I had to decide on how I wanted to learn. Should I pursue a university degree in French? Should I hire a private tutor? Should I move to France and immerse myself in the language? Well, all of those were great ideas and sounded like wonderful learning experiences...However, I am broke. First of all, student loans aren't a good idea considering I can't guarantee repayment after I graduate. As for private tutors, they charge high fees for each individual lesson. Finally, a second move abroad is not only expensive up front, but dangerous as I have no connections or people to stay with over there. With all my French fantasies quashed, I had to look elsewhere for a solution.

After hours of research, I happened to discover adult education courses. They ran at a community college in the city at night and didn't use a regular grading scale so I could learn at my own pace. They also had a low one time fee that I could afford. Each course came with a certificate of completion as well. It's perfect. I start in a few days and I can't help it... I am practicing on my own now too. My conversation is clumsy but I have the passion and drive to improve. I will get this right and be able to put French working proficiency on my resume one day.

Dana~

Since I was very small, my parents and I have always taken quick trips to Edmonton to visit extended family. Both of my parents were raised in Northern Alberta and only moved down to Vancouver in the early 90's. I was born a few years later and they decided to stay put. However, we still wanted to be a part of our extended family's lives. Therefore every few months Mom would schlep us and a weekend's worth of luggage to the airport. It was usually on holidays that we'd fly to visit my grandparents and cousins. My elder sister and her family live there too, so there's always plenty of people with whom to catch up.

However, as I got older and my parents got busier, those visits were few and far between. Maybe once a year, if at all. I thought nothing of it, we just didn't have the time. There couldn't have been any other reasons, right?

Recently, I'd been promising my sister I would come to see my niece around her birthday. When I asked my mom if we had the time, she agreed to organize it. Granted, it wasn't as easy as I remembered. Our schedules were all different, people had work and slept during the day... It took my mom a month to find two and a half days where we could see my sister. Also, while we chose not to stay with my mom's family this time because they were out of town, we found we all slept rather poorly in the hotel. Yes, it had a nice ambiance and comfy beds, but both my father and I are fan-sleepers. We need the white noise and cool air, which neither of us got while in the hotel. Our tossing and turning kept mom awake, resulting in lack of sleep for all of us. Then there was the heavily chlorinated water. At least, I think it was chlorine. All I know is that taking a bath felt more like going for a swim. The water was bright blue and made my hair both stiff and frizzy. Then there's travel food. Hotels don't have in-room kitchens, so we ate out most of the time and as we all know, it's faster to grab a bag of chips for a flight than to sit down for a meal. Sure, everything we ate was edible and most of it was tasty, but after three days of restaurant meals and junk food I was bloated and nauseous. Everything needs to be done in moderation...

Once we made the trip home, I collapsed onto my bed and napped. Well, I closed my eyes for five minutes and then sent out an email with my resume for another job opportunity. Either way, I was exhausted. I used to love those short trips, but they really take a lot out of me. It always seemed so easy to close the gap between me and the rest of my family, but not anymore. That hop, skip and a jump leaves me feeling drained and often times sick. Still, they are family. I wouldn't give them up for the world. So I will continue to make these trips, frizzy hair and nausea be damned.

Dana~

Money doesn't grow on trees, especially when you're job hunting. So when I'm given a gift card or even a small bit of money, I save it like crazy. Okay, more like unhealthily hoarding it.

For example, I got a Steam gift card the other week. Now, I've wanted to purchase new games for ages to pass the time between writing job applications. There are so many good looking games out there. Unfortunately, I'm picky when it comes to my games and money nowadays. I only spend money on games with replay value. That's it. If I can't keep coming back to a game and enjoying a new experience, it isn't worth the money to me. Especially if it's over $15.

So when I got home and entered my code into my Steam account, I excitedly surfed the shop for something new to play. I referenced my wishlist and looked at all recommendations. I was even about to buy a few. Then that damn little voice in my head said, "Wait! You'll regret it."

"But how could I? It's got great reviews!" I contested.

My conscious was unwavering, "No, you'll be bored of it in a day. Forget it."

Thus, I didn't buy any games. It's always been like this. I save all my money for a day where I desperately need it, even though it's usually money I've been waiting to use for something specific. I remember saving my lunch money in college thinking there'd be a day when I really needed it to go out or something. This was despite the fact I was starving between classes all semester and that I never went out on the town anyways.

So the gift card sits unused and unloved. I still return to games I love with replay value. The Sims 3 is always a favourite and can be different each play through. I've also found myself a fan of Kitty Power's Matchmaker on Steam. The British humor and slang gives me waves of nostalgia.

Still, I wish I weren't so prudent and responsible with my money. It'd be nice to have fun for a change.

Dana~

I find life has a way of surprising me. It can be something very simple too. Something I noticed in a book, an advertisement on a bus bunch or even something I hear over the radio. This time it was an early morning re-run of "Steven & Chris" about a week ago.

I had a rough night, arguing with my partner and generally not sleeping well. I woke up at 3 a.m. decidedly frustrated with constant nightmares. I was playing on my 3DS until about 4 a.m. when I heard my mother knock on my door. She had fallen asleep just after dinner due to jet lag and was blearily staring at me from my doorway.

"Why aren't you asleep?" she grumbled.

I barely looked up from my game to respond, "I slept a little, now I'm awake. Are you ok?"

She nodded with a huff and plodded down the stairs in search of coffee. I closed my game and followed my mother. We hadn't spent much time together since she returned from her last business trip and I really needed the company. After about thirty minutes of making coffee and taking turns in the washroom, we settled into the living room and turned on the TV. Mom flicked it to "Steven & Chris" so we could have cheery background noise while we spoke.

I lamented to her about my situation and asked for advice, she explained I was doing the right thing. She expressed the fact that she didn't know what else to do to help me. I said all I wanted was hugs. In general, it was a normal mother-daughter conversation. However, as we were chatting I found myself constantly interrupted by a loud, effeminate voice on our TV.  It was the talk show host, Chris. He was going on about yoga poses and making silly comments. His laugh though, caused my mother and I to burst into fits of giggles. His charisma was infectious. We laughed about him and noted how him and his partner were such a good match. My mother commented on his happy and sweet demeanor. He was sassy and lovely. We both agreed that he belonged on television.

That memory stuck in my head that day because it was one of the first honest conversations I had with my mother about my love life, and we shared that moment over an episode of "Steven & Chris". If anything, the program added to our moment and gave us little bits of laughter and joy.

So it was very sad for me to hear of Chris Hyndman's passing today. I was shocked. It hadn't been even a week since I saw the program and shared that time with my mother. He was young, healthy and happy. I couldn't believe it at first, even thinking back to the date on the program we watched.  I had actually grown up watching Chris on all of his and Steven's various shows, specifically "Design Guys". It was unbelievable to think he was gone. But it was true, and a little piece of my heart broke off. All I could think of was how much Steven and his family must miss him...

This news surprised me as it meant the loss of someone who made even the smallest difference in my life. It was his laughter and amazing persona that solidified that moment in time for me. I remember the giggles and conversation I shared with my mother at 5 a.m. because of his wondrous way with words. All I can say is thank you and I hope Chris is in a better place.

Dana~