Mistakes happen, it’s nothing to be upset or irritated about. Life is full of errors. Something I always tell my parents is that I really want the freedom to make mistakes. I think one of my most significant flaws is that I know I can fall back on them. I do believe I will need to sweep them out from underneath me soon, so I see the reality of my mistakes. I can’t have that safety net, or I’ll never whip myself into shape.

With that being said, most mistakes are caused by some form of miscommunication. Today, I was supposed to have a phone call, but I had failed to give the other party my number, and they had failed to do so as well. We sent emails back and forth for an hour, and I sat on a Zoom call for 30 minutes before I had to ask them to reschedule due to another commitment. This was neither their fault nor mine. We both are busy people, and busy people make little errors every day.

My little errors annoy me. I think about how easily this problem could have been avoided, and that makes me frustrated. I wish I had remembered to send them my number or clarify that I would prefer using Zoom. Either way, I solicited the call, so that failure was on me. I still feel that safety net beneath me and I wonder how I would be feeling about this experience if it were not there.

Communication is what I want to do. I like communicating with people, I think it’s challenging and rewarding. There are a lot of ways to make a conversation, email, or message go wrong, but if you can say what you want to say well, it’s more impressive than most people realize. Making a good first correspondence is essential. It sets the stage for any relationship – romantic, business, etc. That’s why I’m so intrigued by it. I’m fascinated by how much our interactions influence our ability to work together in any given setting.

These last few days have been strange. I am saying goodbye to Montreal and this apartment that has brought me so much comfort and stability. I have a fantastic view of the river, a health foods store with pre-made (delicious) salads right below me, and I am only a kilometer from the entertainment district. Packing is painful, more arduous that it has ever been before. Perhaps, I miscommunicated how much of an impact this city has had on my behavior. Maybe I haven’t realized the full extent of how happy I am here.

Either way, I can’t come back until the end of August. Three weeks doesn’t sound too long, but it’s only a week less than I spent here and look at how that changed me.


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