a shift in perspective

September 13th. For many, it's just another date. For me, for a while, it held a particular weight. Years ago, on a September 13th, I received a diagnosis of a brain disease. It felt like a significant, perhaps even unlucky, turn of events. I remember thinking that if I even made it to the next "anniversary" of that diagnosis, which would also be a Friday the 13th, my luck would surely have run out.

Spoiler alert: I'm still here, and my luck seems to be doing just fine. (For those new here, I often use my brain disease as a bit of humour on this page, it just my coping mechanism!)

Fast forward to September 13th, 2019. Another Friday the 13th. This time, instead of dread, the day brought a different kind of surprise. My boyfriend chose that very day to ask me to be his girlfriend. It might seem like an odd choice for a day traditionally associated with misfortune, but for us, it became a memorable moment.

And here we are, five years later, still together. That "unlucky" Friday the 13th marked the start of a wonderful chapter in my life.

It just goes to show that dates, like days, are what we make of them. For me, Friday the 13th has transformed from a day of apprehension into a reminder that positive things can happen unexpectedly, even on days typically considered less fortunate. It's a quiet testament to how perspective can shift the meaning of everything. Friday the 13th might no longer be a day to dread, but simply another day full of possibilities.

As it happens, it’s Friday 13th today. For one girl who thought her luck would run out on a day like this, I can safely say, it’s just getting started.

“How’s work”

It’s the question that never fails to appear, often within the first few minutes of conversation. You bump into an old friend or meet a distant relative at a wedding, and there it is:

"How’s work?"

It’s not an inherently bad question. In fact, it makes sense. Work takes up a huge chunk of our lives, and in many cases, it shapes our identity. People ask it because it’s an easy icebreaker, a way to quickly gauge how someone is doing without prying too much. But the problem is, it often is prying too much.

What if your job is stressful? What if you’re in the middle of quitting? What if you just got fired? Or what if, quite simply, you don’t want to talk about work in your free time?

There’s also the assumption that work is the most important or interesting thing about you. When people default to asking about your job, it can feel like your worth is tied to your career. Did you get a promotion? Are you still at the same company? Have you done anything impressive lately? It’s a subtle pressure to have something “good” to report, because saying “it’s fine” or “it’s just a job” rarely satisfies the person asking.

And then there’s the hierarchy hidden in the question. If your job sounds exciting or prestigious, you’re met with admiration. If it’s something ordinary, you get a polite nod before the conversation moves on. It can feel like a test, a quiet evaluation of where you stand in life.

Of course, not everyone means it that way. Some people genuinely care. Some are just looking for a way to start a conversation. But wouldn’t it be nicer if we led with something more open ended? What’s been exciting for you lately? What’s something you’ve been enjoying outside of work? These questions give people the space to talk about whatever matters to them. Whether that’s work, a hobby, or the latest TV show they’re obsessed with.

I know we spend almost half the week at work, often spending more time with our colleagues than the people we love and care deeply for. It’s a huge part of our routine and sometimes even our sense of purpose. But does that mean it has to be the centerpiece of every conversation? Just because work takes up a lot of our time doesn’t mean it defines who we are or what’s most important to us. Some of the best moments in life happen outside of office hours, yet we rarely start conversations by asking about those.

Because the truth is, work is just one part of who we are. And that’s why I hate the question, how’s work?