I know, in fact, I've written posts about how bad I am at letting things go. About how I carry a lot of anger and pain around with me, only to have it brought up by random memory prompts and reminders in every day life. One of the best ways I'm able to HELP myself get over stuff is by writing about it. I've never been amazing with words or expressing how I feel out loud. A pen or a keyboard gives me a voice I don't have the strength or skill to put out there otherwise. Maybe that's why I'm interested in poetry slams and readings. They give words the power out loud, the kind I've always idolized.
SO I am going to warn you here: THIS POST (while not containing the word dildo other than the prior use of the word) IS FRAUGHT WITH 20-SOMETHING ANGST. It's all about the break-up with the guy I was seeing-kindof-seeing-was-basically-seeing. Maybe it's passive aggressive or stupid to put this here, but the thoughts have been tumbling over and over in my brainspace and getting them out might save me some grief or some psychotherapy sessions later so...without further ado:
WELCOME TO YOUR FIRST BREAK UP.
Nobody gave me the warning not to include good music in your first relationship. No one said to me that the next time David Bowie filled the negative space in my car with his wavering, sonic spaceman vocals, that I wouldn't think about Major Tom. I'd be thinking about you and I, driving down the street late night, marveling of the sound on the cassette... the one we bought in that awesome music store you showed me. That was the day we played pianos and sat in the sun and held hands and watched people dance in the park. Nobody told me I might have to think about breaking up with Mr. Bowie if it meant wincing every time I heard Golden Years. Or Tom Waits. Billie Joel. The Black Keys. Nobody warned me about that part.
I certainly wasn't ready for the lies you told me. I'm sure they weren't lies at the time, and I'll give you that. But clearly now it's easy to see I wasn't the only one, or the dream girl, or even your friend for life. People change, I get that....but I still wonder if you stopped returning my texts of your own volition, or if it was her call? You explained to her who I was, what we had, where I stood, in the background and... Here we are, incommunicado. Maybe it's pathetic, maybe I can't stand the idea that you just gave up on me of your own free will...because for me I don't think it will ever be that easy.
I mean, here I am, writing this blog to you to try and make space in my head for someone else. Him, who keeps my hands warm in the icy rain and him who is just tall enough my head tucks right into where his neck meets his shoulder.
I'm trying really hard to be mad at you, but I can't. I thought I was angry, the other day, but it was just a hit of adrenaline combined with a really good song and speeding in my car. I know the truth is that one of us would have cut the other off eventually. You just found her first...and I'm not sure I could have had the guts to do that to you. But thank you, for being my first break up. For pulling the trigger. For being gentle and giving me forewarning. For texting me instead of waiting until I drove to see you, so you didn't have to watch my expression crumple like a discarded love note when you broke the news. Most people think it's a shitty way to do things. I think it was a mercy.
So if you want to be friends, yeah I'm here.
I think what's hard is that this whole break up thing has brought some ugly pieces of me from the woodwork. The pieces that are TRYING to be angry with you . The pieces that want to make you jealous, any time I have to stare at a thumbnail of your new profile picture on Facebook where she's all curled up in your arms. (Maybe that's called having a uterus and some estrogen. I have no idea.) The fact that I can't seem to get. you. out. of. my.head when I'm so far from any thought of yours that I might be a stranger. If we passed on the street I'd look over my shoulder to watch you walk away, all while turning a bright, red crimson. The kind that used to neon my cheeks when you told me I was beautiful.
Ugly pieces like wanting to give up. Wanting to find someone, anyone, in an attempt at revenge. Yeah, juvenile, but I'm 21 years old, I was... a little enamoured with you. If we had been closer I would have wanted to see you every day. This was a heartbreak of geography. Of convenience. And when you're me, and love conquers all is suddenly love's about to fall to a different, easy option, you have to check yourself. Realize the reality. Come back from those midnight car make outs, those walks in the park, those breakfasts, the playful talk about the kids back home... And realize everything happens for a reason. People come into our lives in different roles and maybe the roles change and we outgrow them, or they outgrow us or we're cast in different parts. Obviously, it's going to take awhile for me to accept that.
So forgive me for being petty and airing some dirty laundry.
I'm going to listen to that Bowie tape and forget the connotation and the implication and even the little bit of devastation. I'm moving on and moving up.
All the best,
Me
October 26, 2011
October 24, 2011
Montreal Calling
I haven't done much today-- I feel less and less like running outside as the weather gets colder. My goal is to work out three times a week, so by all means today has not been a failure, with plenty of time left to fit those days in. I spent all day doing some laundry, tidying the kitchen, looking at admission requirements for university.
I don't know if I've 'issued a formal statement' on the subject yet, but I'm looking into going to school in September for Professional Writing! People with a BA in the area can go into fields such as editing, publishing, journalism, technical writing, etc. etc. etc. If I do some sociology courses on the side, as well as volunteer, I feel like I'll be more than ready to find a job working in the media department of a non-profit organization, which is really a dream career for me. Writing to help people. It's perfect!
There are a lot of different things to consider like transcripts and credits and portfolios to be looked into. It's all pretty overwhelming, right from the get-go. I pretty sure I've picked out three schools: Concordia, York and the University of Toronto.
If I'm being honest, my heart is set on Concordia. I'm saying it here. It's in the middle of a city I love, where I've planned in my dreams of moving. I'd be French and English speaking. The students at Concordia are interested in activism. The program itself is English and Creative Writing with a Minor in professional writing. There are so many amazing words in this paragraph alone, my heart is exploding as I type it. Yeah, it's scary, but also amazing!
As far as I can tell, of the 3 schools, the only one that requires a portfolio of work is Concordia. 15 pages of writing to decide whether or not I get my dream.
I know Montreal would be waiting for me after I graduated from one of the other schools, but...It's not the same. I think I might be crushed if I don't get in. I don't want to give something uncertain that much power, but I need to get there. It's like my heart is yelling and somewhere out in the chaos of the universe, going to this school is the answer to the trouble in my soul. The kind of trouble that set me back on my psychologists' couch a few weeks ago. Dramatic, I know!
I don't know if I've 'issued a formal statement' on the subject yet, but I'm looking into going to school in September for Professional Writing! People with a BA in the area can go into fields such as editing, publishing, journalism, technical writing, etc. etc. etc. If I do some sociology courses on the side, as well as volunteer, I feel like I'll be more than ready to find a job working in the media department of a non-profit organization, which is really a dream career for me. Writing to help people. It's perfect!
There are a lot of different things to consider like transcripts and credits and portfolios to be looked into. It's all pretty overwhelming, right from the get-go. I pretty sure I've picked out three schools: Concordia, York and the University of Toronto.
If I'm being honest, my heart is set on Concordia. I'm saying it here. It's in the middle of a city I love, where I've planned in my dreams of moving. I'd be French and English speaking. The students at Concordia are interested in activism. The program itself is English and Creative Writing with a Minor in professional writing. There are so many amazing words in this paragraph alone, my heart is exploding as I type it. Yeah, it's scary, but also amazing!
As far as I can tell, of the 3 schools, the only one that requires a portfolio of work is Concordia. 15 pages of writing to decide whether or not I get my dream.
I know Montreal would be waiting for me after I graduated from one of the other schools, but...It's not the same. I think I might be crushed if I don't get in. I don't want to give something uncertain that much power, but I need to get there. It's like my heart is yelling and somewhere out in the chaos of the universe, going to this school is the answer to the trouble in my soul. The kind of trouble that set me back on my psychologists' couch a few weeks ago. Dramatic, I know!
October 23, 2011
Waxing Poetic
I have to announce, this is the 100th post written here. That's kind of a big deal, let's face it. 100 anything is a reason to celebrate, unless it's something like car accidents or something equally unpleasant. SO I have a little something special (but not really) because I'm feeling inspired.
I'm not REALLY a poet, but I scribble poetry at work and I have scraps of paper littered with words that wouldn't make sense to any eyes but my own. I dabble in wordplay, I get hooked and caught on phrases. I become obsessed with describing love without actually using the word. So I'm deciding to share one of my random little poems with you, in the spirit of a new, creative and hopefully literary awakening. (NaNoWriMo is coming up soon, and I'm hoping to get my writing mojo going before the first of November, before my word quota leaves me in the dust! More of that in a separate post!)
His smile never quite stayed put until
She picked it up and sealed it with-- a kiss,
a tell,
a tall tale is all there is,
when lovers lie
for the pounding heart and the tug of war aftermath
are naked myths,
marble statues of Aphrodite, loved but misunderstood
And their breath sang out as they quieted
Explored the mazes in their minds, in their dreams, in the sheets
And went wild with love
on crowded streets
lost in the supermarket jungle, never humbled
never sated, but always, always
always
sustained by the prospect of the other's face
in a painted, end of day polaroid
I'm not REALLY a poet, but I scribble poetry at work and I have scraps of paper littered with words that wouldn't make sense to any eyes but my own. I dabble in wordplay, I get hooked and caught on phrases. I become obsessed with describing love without actually using the word. So I'm deciding to share one of my random little poems with you, in the spirit of a new, creative and hopefully literary awakening. (NaNoWriMo is coming up soon, and I'm hoping to get my writing mojo going before the first of November, before my word quota leaves me in the dust! More of that in a separate post!)
His smile never quite stayed put until
She picked it up and sealed it with-- a kiss,
a tell,
a tall tale is all there is,
when lovers lie
for the pounding heart and the tug of war aftermath
are naked myths,
marble statues of Aphrodite, loved but misunderstood
And their breath sang out as they quieted
Explored the mazes in their minds, in their dreams, in the sheets
And went wild with love
on crowded streets
lost in the supermarket jungle, never humbled
never sated, but always, always
always
sustained by the prospect of the other's face
in a painted, end of day polaroid
October 20, 2011
X-Rated
WARNING: If you're uncomfortable with the word dildo, I would leave this post. You WILL miss the retelling of my first Fantasia party, but then, you won't want to be reading it anyway because I use the world dil- well. You get the idea.
For those of you who don't know (AKA no one who reads this blog) yesterday was Spirit Day! I've been blowing up basically all of my social network outlets about the whole thing. I've was feeling a funny cocktail of pride and warm love combined with a deep solemn nature. It makes things a little strange in the world inside my head.
Aside from that, yesterday was also eventful in TWO big ways.
1. I GOT A HAIRCUT. I know this sounds like a ditzy ass thing to say but allow me to explain. I couldn't remember the last time I had a haircut. I want to say it's been like....five or six months at least. I don't remember.... I HONESTLY don't remember. At the beginning of August, a couple months into our 10K training, I told Jill I would get my hair done after the 10K. She looked at me and was, "Riley...that's a long time."
"You're right. I probably won't wait that long."
AND THEN I DID. It was like a playoff beard. Like a Movember 'stache. But you know what... I don't miss it!
2. I went to a sexy party. Oh sorry, sex toy party. Wait, no ...FANTASIA party. (Ding ding ding!) A lady at Rebekah's work was having one at her house, and snagged an invite. I'd never been to one before (life experience ....I at least figured it would make a good blog) and being single/living with my parents, I am here going to admit that I was like WOO PAR-TAY! ...At least until I got there.
Rebekah, myself, and her mom (who is actually way-cool) found ourselves in a basement. A nicely finished basement where you might curl up with your family and watch movie. Except this basement was filled with seated, chatting middle aged ladies, one of whom stood at the front, waiting. The table was covered with bottles of lotions and potions, and oh yeah, a BIG REALISTIC PENIS DILDO. Me + Women as old as my mom + looking at potential sexytime items = uncomfortable.
When the rep of the company of started her presentation, she asked how many people had NEVER been to one before. Myself and one other lady were the only two to raise our hands. I was about to break into a cold sweat. I thought for sure I was going to get picked on. But as the presentation went on and everybody was laughing and having a good time and tasting raspberry flavoured body powder and strawberry champagne flavoured, heat activated body oil, we all loosened up...Poor choice of words. I mean, I know that sex is a REALLY natural, human thing and it's nothing to be uncomfortable with or ashamed about. I know it's about intimacy and importance, but it's not like it is in the movies. Slow motion and well lit and romantic. Hell, sometimes it's probably even FUNNY, so why not open up and laugh at ourselves? It ended up being a good time! Everyone had a sense of humor about the whole thing and there were so many women there I was able to slide under the radar... at least until we were supposed to read out our sexy aliases, which had to invent and write on our penis shaped name tags. (I am now Clit Middleton, the Duchess of Cumbridge, in case y'all were wondering.)
When I got home, mama, my dad and my uncle were sitting on the couch. I had been dreading the moment, imagining the confrontation, but with two extra cards in the deck, my nerves were on edge. I was assuming that my mom would assume I was guilty before I was innocent. I didn't think she'd bring it up with them there. But she looked at me, straight in the face and said, "Fantaaaaasiaaaa! DID YOU BUY ANYTHING?"
God damnit, ma. My parents and my uncle, staring me down I was the QUICKEST to protest. "No mom, that would be totally weird! GUH! OHMYGOD. How can you even ASK ME THAT?"
Either way. After the party, Rebekah and I snapped pictures of our purple swag. I tried to do my best Derek Zoolander. It sort of maybe worked, but I'm not really really really really really ridiculously goodlooking...
For those of you who don't know (AKA no one who reads this blog) yesterday was Spirit Day! I've been blowing up basically all of my social network outlets about the whole thing. I've was feeling a funny cocktail of pride and warm love combined with a deep solemn nature. It makes things a little strange in the world inside my head.
Aside from that, yesterday was also eventful in TWO big ways.
1. I GOT A HAIRCUT. I know this sounds like a ditzy ass thing to say but allow me to explain. I couldn't remember the last time I had a haircut. I want to say it's been like....five or six months at least. I don't remember.... I HONESTLY don't remember. At the beginning of August, a couple months into our 10K training, I told Jill I would get my hair done after the 10K. She looked at me and was, "Riley...that's a long time."
"You're right. I probably won't wait that long."
AND THEN I DID. It was like a playoff beard. Like a Movember 'stache. But you know what... I don't miss it!
2. I went to a sexy party. Oh sorry, sex toy party. Wait, no ...FANTASIA party. (Ding ding ding!) A lady at Rebekah's work was having one at her house, and snagged an invite. I'd never been to one before (life experience ....I at least figured it would make a good blog) and being single/living with my parents, I am here going to admit that I was like WOO PAR-TAY! ...At least until I got there.
Rebekah, myself, and her mom (who is actually way-cool) found ourselves in a basement. A nicely finished basement where you might curl up with your family and watch movie. Except this basement was filled with seated, chatting middle aged ladies, one of whom stood at the front, waiting. The table was covered with bottles of lotions and potions, and oh yeah, a BIG REALISTIC PENIS DILDO. Me + Women as old as my mom + looking at potential sexytime items = uncomfortable.
When the rep of the company of started her presentation, she asked how many people had NEVER been to one before. Myself and one other lady were the only two to raise our hands. I was about to break into a cold sweat. I thought for sure I was going to get picked on. But as the presentation went on and everybody was laughing and having a good time and tasting raspberry flavoured body powder and strawberry champagne flavoured, heat activated body oil, we all loosened up...Poor choice of words. I mean, I know that sex is a REALLY natural, human thing and it's nothing to be uncomfortable with or ashamed about. I know it's about intimacy and importance, but it's not like it is in the movies. Slow motion and well lit and romantic. Hell, sometimes it's probably even FUNNY, so why not open up and laugh at ourselves? It ended up being a good time! Everyone had a sense of humor about the whole thing and there were so many women there I was able to slide under the radar... at least until we were supposed to read out our sexy aliases, which had to invent and write on our penis shaped name tags. (I am now Clit Middleton, the Duchess of Cumbridge, in case y'all were wondering.)
When I got home, mama, my dad and my uncle were sitting on the couch. I had been dreading the moment, imagining the confrontation, but with two extra cards in the deck, my nerves were on edge. I was assuming that my mom would assume I was guilty before I was innocent. I didn't think she'd bring it up with them there. But she looked at me, straight in the face and said, "Fantaaaaasiaaaa! DID YOU BUY ANYTHING?"
God damnit, ma. My parents and my uncle, staring me down I was the QUICKEST to protest. "No mom, that would be totally weird! GUH! OHMYGOD. How can you even ASK ME THAT?"
Either way. After the party, Rebekah and I snapped pictures of our purple swag. I tried to do my best Derek Zoolander. It sort of maybe worked, but I'm not really really really really really ridiculously goodlooking...
October 19, 2011
INFP
If you haven't taken this personality test yet, you should give it a shot. When you figure out who you are, (what a profound statement) Google your results. It might make your brain explode.... Just a little warning.
I'm an INFP- Introverted iNtuitive Feeling Perceiving personality. Either these people have been following me around for 21 years or they really figured out some crazy things about the human mind. They have my number...to minute point of RIDICULOUSNESS.
Yesterday, I got in a fight with mama. We've been at odds lately, under different stresses, so whenever we have an argument, the points go back and forth like the ping pong championships of the WORLD...fast and ridiculous. We were fighting about insurance, about rent, about debt, going to school, Telly's relationship with the new carpet on the stairs... (He likes scratching at it), even about flossing my TEETH.
BUT, you know where it started? The epicenter of this bloody every-thing-you've- ever-done-wrong-to-me fight? She told me I was no longer allowed to use her car to go places and do things if I had laundry all over my floor.
Exhibit A:
"When it comes to the mundane details of life maintenance, INFPs are typically completely unaware of such things. They might go for long periods without noticing a stain on the carpet, but carefully and meticulously brush a speck of dust off of their project booklet."
SAY WHAT.
Follow that up with how completely shaken I was about Jamie Hubley, and you can top it off with THIS:
"Healers care deeply about the inner life of a few special persons, or about a favorite cause in the world at large. And their great passion is to heal the conflicts that trouble individuals, or that divide groups, and thus to bring wholeness, or health, to themselves, their loved ones, and their community."
The other fun thing about this test is that...I feel like if I have a personality type such as this, I can't be the only one. There are people out there who are just like me... and that's cool. That's way...way... far out amazing. It also makes me feel justified in..wanting to, needing to write...as a calling. Wanting to work in charity, it seems clear and justified now. Changing my life. I don't know. It's reassuring.
I have to go work out now. I'm trying to get back on the healthy life wagon. The regular exercise wagon. The fruits and veggies wagon. Rebekah and I had a long awesome talk after my 10K the other day. She brought up a lot of thoughtful points about my weight loss goals. How it might be easier to focus on small goals, like five pounds at a time.
She also pointed out that maybe instead of thinking INEEDTOLOSE50POUNDSZOMG. I just keep losing in small, small, small ways, until I feel happy with my body.
Which totally makes sense. I don't want to be a stick figure. I LIKE CURVES. I just want to be happy. And this is a way more positive way to think about things. I'm going to try very hard to make this time different.
Re-invent!
I'm an INFP- Introverted iNtuitive Feeling Perceiving personality. Either these people have been following me around for 21 years or they really figured out some crazy things about the human mind. They have my number...to minute point of RIDICULOUSNESS.
Yesterday, I got in a fight with mama. We've been at odds lately, under different stresses, so whenever we have an argument, the points go back and forth like the ping pong championships of the WORLD...fast and ridiculous. We were fighting about insurance, about rent, about debt, going to school, Telly's relationship with the new carpet on the stairs... (He likes scratching at it), even about flossing my TEETH.
BUT, you know where it started? The epicenter of this bloody every-thing-you've- ever-done-wrong-to-me fight? She told me I was no longer allowed to use her car to go places and do things if I had laundry all over my floor.
Exhibit A:
"When it comes to the mundane details of life maintenance, INFPs are typically completely unaware of such things. They might go for long periods without noticing a stain on the carpet, but carefully and meticulously brush a speck of dust off of their project booklet."
SAY WHAT.
Follow that up with how completely shaken I was about Jamie Hubley, and you can top it off with THIS:
"Healers care deeply about the inner life of a few special persons, or about a favorite cause in the world at large. And their great passion is to heal the conflicts that trouble individuals, or that divide groups, and thus to bring wholeness, or health, to themselves, their loved ones, and their community."
The other fun thing about this test is that...I feel like if I have a personality type such as this, I can't be the only one. There are people out there who are just like me... and that's cool. That's way...way... far out amazing. It also makes me feel justified in..wanting to, needing to write...as a calling. Wanting to work in charity, it seems clear and justified now. Changing my life. I don't know. It's reassuring.
I have to go work out now. I'm trying to get back on the healthy life wagon. The regular exercise wagon. The fruits and veggies wagon. Rebekah and I had a long awesome talk after my 10K the other day. She brought up a lot of thoughtful points about my weight loss goals. How it might be easier to focus on small goals, like five pounds at a time.
She also pointed out that maybe instead of thinking INEEDTOLOSE50POUNDSZOMG. I just keep losing in small, small, small ways, until I feel happy with my body.
Which totally makes sense. I don't want to be a stick figure. I LIKE CURVES. I just want to be happy. And this is a way more positive way to think about things. I'm going to try very hard to make this time different.
Re-invent!
October 18, 2011
The Hope Speech
I saw this story on the news today and it broke my heart. I sat with tears streaming down my cheeks, crushing Telly in my arms, unable to find words beyond anger and cutting sorrow.
I wish I could reach out to every single kid who ever felt alone, unloved, rejected, or trashed out. I might not be gay, but I’ve been there. Bullied and watching all of your friends fall in teenage love? Fuck, sometimes I feel like I’m still stuck in that state of mind, left in the dust. When I think about the person I was at 15, that girl was worlds away from who I am now. She had a lot to learn, a lot to become. I have become and it makes me so sad this boy never will have that chance.
I think these are feelings EVERYONE goes through, in different magnitudes. But for someone so young to be so mixed up with medications and circumstances that death at fifteen is their only option? It’s crushing. I’m furious. I’m destroyed. As a former suffering teenager, as someone who has lost a good friend to suicide, I’m moved.
One of my greatest wishes is for these kids, these lost souls, to know they have options. They can have freedom. They can have all the love in the fucking world, it’s out there, it’s waiting. It’s pounding in the hearts of a million people who will love them. My heart being one of them. Every time I hear something like this, it becomes more and more important to me to live a life guided by spreading love. That’s all I want. I want to give love.
Harvey Milk, one of my absolute heroes, said it best: “The only thing they have to look forward to is hope. And you have to give them hope. Hope for a better world, hope for a better tomorrow, hope for a better place to come to if the pressures at home are too great. Hope that all will be all right. Without hope, not only gays, but the blacks, the seniors, the handicapped, the us'es, the us'es will give up. You gotta give ‘em hope.”
October 16, 2011
In the Long Run...
I'm submitting this to Travis, but y'all deserve it here first. <3
Follow Up
Confession: I’ve been slacking in my training lately.
Follow Up
Confession: I’ve been slacking in my training lately.
Confession: Because of this lack of motive to go on and on like a run on sentence, this running out of steam, I’ve never run 10 kilometers before today.
Confession: I did it anyway.
8AM arrives as early as anything when you’re equating the sound of the alarm clock screeching to the sound of the starting gun. Once it wakes you up, there’s no going back. Once you’re off, you can’t turn around or stop.
I dressed in my racing best, poked my head into my older sister’s room to make sure she was awake and went downstairs for breakfast. Scientifically, I had it mapped: carbs, protein and energy. While I ate half of a sandwich and sipped a bitter half a cup of coffee, I could feel buzzing in my veins. It was the cocktail of dread, nervous excitement, and great expectations humming in my blood. I pinned my number to the front of my shirt and laced up my shoes.
Confession: I remember thinking… “You don’t have to do this.” My sister and I headed to starting area and once again got a look at the ragtag family we’d adopted ourselves into. Old, young, gangly, stocky. Numbered like prisoners or cattle, and restless. There was an energy in the air that made everyone shift and move without ever being static… Or maybe they were trying to keep warm.
It was a cold morning, with the sun swathed and hidden behind grey clouds. Huddled masses, we waited for the starting gun. It started to rain in cold splotches. The wind blew in bursts, and I felt my muscles freezing and shrinking. 9:30, the official start time passed. No gun. 9:45, still no gun. Our anticipation burned away into impatience and anger and chattering teeth. When the air horn blew, everyone cheered. It was an optimistic start for a long road ahead.
I can’t summarize the experience of the run itself. Imagine the pull of gravity, the forces of nature and your pounding heart fighting for your attention simultaneously. The course was loaded with hills, and soon I was silently talking to myself. I talked to myself like a crazy person. Earn the downhill. Don’t ever stop. My new, personal mantra: One day I will be nothing, so right now I must be everything.
Confession: Based on my 5K time, and giving myself a little leeway for exhaustion, I set my goal for an hour and thirty minutes. I wasn’t going to set a time goal at all, because they say the first time you run a new distance, the achievement is to finish.
Time slipped by but the kilometers came on slow, and near the end, every step felt like it might have been the one to give up on. Every second tearing by felt like it was taking me further out to sea. When I saw the marker for 9 kilometers, I high fived it and burst out laughing on my way by. I probably scared a couple of the volunteers, but it didn’t matter.
I was going home. I was going all the way. I was going, going, gone. For the final kilometer, I trotted along with a frosty, weary determination. Rounding a corner I saw the banner calling out to me and my legs of lead lifted one more time to finish it all off. What I started. Committed to. Sweat and suffered and puked for.
My sister, already finished, screamed and cheered with my mom and my best friend by her side, waiting for me. I launched straight into their arms and beat my goal time by 13 minutes, clocking in at 1:17!
In the wake of the rush of joy, I was laughing and fighting for breath, and a little moved by the power of the moment.
Confession: I’m already sure there’s going to be a next time. A next race. A follow up to this follow up.
Confession: If someone told me one day I’d run 10 kilometers in the freezing wind and rain, I would’ve told them to step off…. In so many words.
Confession: I’ll see you at the starting line.
Anticipation
I'm writing a little post before I go to bed because I won't have time to do it tomorrow in the morning before the race. THE FACKING RACE. Last time I had to run a roadrace (a measly 5k, PFF...Okay it was a HUGE deal at the time-- my first race ever) I was freaking out during my pre-blog and I wrote this.
Unfortunately my sense of humor has been burned away by nerves jangling as hard as piano keys, and left in it's smoking wake determination, ashes of fear and a sense of destiny. Yeah, I'm ridiculous, and yeah, I said it. Destiny. Tomorrow is huge character climax for me, whether positive or negative. It will end the 10K story arc. It's going to change me, and I can 't wait for it.
My goal for tomorrow is 1 hour 30 minutes. I'll try and get pictures. Otherwise, the next time I post it'll be from the other side of the finish line. <3
Here's hoping I don't puke.
Unfortunately my sense of humor has been burned away by nerves jangling as hard as piano keys, and left in it's smoking wake determination, ashes of fear and a sense of destiny. Yeah, I'm ridiculous, and yeah, I said it. Destiny. Tomorrow is huge character climax for me, whether positive or negative. It will end the 10K story arc. It's going to change me, and I can 't wait for it.
My goal for tomorrow is 1 hour 30 minutes. I'll try and get pictures. Otherwise, the next time I post it'll be from the other side of the finish line. <3
Here's hoping I don't puke.
October 14, 2011
Sour Grapes
I had to drive out of town to pick up my little sis from school for the weekend. My friend Justin and I ended up meeting for a quick coffee, and I ended up wearing this. I would like to note at the start of my day the bun was more on the top of my head. Either way. FUN.
Right before we left to drive back to Waterloo, I asked Kacy to do me a solid and snap some photos. I seldom wear white, but I think it came together more or less as I envisioned it in my head.
Motorcycle Jacket: PINK
Crop Top: H&M
Jeans: Forever 21+
Combat Boots: Spring
Purse: Matt & Nat
Right before we left to drive back to Waterloo, I asked Kacy to do me a solid and snap some photos. I seldom wear white, but I think it came together more or less as I envisioned it in my head.
Motorcycle Jacket: PINK
Crop Top: H&M
Jeans: Forever 21+
Combat Boots: Spring
Purse: Matt & Nat
My future goal is to not wear my glasses the next time I happen to take an outfit picture. They are my ultra security blanket. The end.
The Daily News...and tits.
The Bear has been on the prowl lately. I think, combined with PMS raises it and my buried anxieties about the run are bringing it to the front. It's on the 16th, so we are officially two days away. And, not to sound like someone making New Years resolutions, but after the run, I'm hoping to get back into a better health routine in terms of going to the gym and watching what I eat. I've been TERRIBLE lately... like reality TV terrible and I think it's effecting my mood and my confidence, for starters.
The Bear scares away my optimism and I crawl back into bed at 4 in the afternoon because I don't want to go downstairs and eat everything in the kitchen out of some nameless anxiety and feelings of being emotionally and physically hideous. Some bitterness. I don't know...it's not a good state of mind. I'm not looking for sympathy here, I'm just saying, that's how out of whack I get around this time. Jill and Rebekah both separately suggested going on the pill to help regulate some of my hormones, which I think might be a good idea. Except that you need to get your doctor to give you a PAP, and in my peaky, pre-PMS whiny sensitive state, the worst idea ever seems to be an old guy looking at my lady parts, analyzing them while he thinks about the bad golf game he had on the weekend.
It wouldn't be the first time something like this has happened to me.
(For those of you who aren't educated, that's the journal I had before this one. Warning: The post talks about my tits and the awkward doctor appointment where they were first revealed to the world. Yes, I said tits.)
Either way. To lift our spirits and get some stuff done, Bek and I went Halloween shopping today. I got white pants, suspenders, shoes, a wig and a moustache. My Freddie ensemble is basically complete. (Weird story: While we were at the second costume store, we saw costume moustaches made out of 100 percent REAL HUMAN HAIR. WTF IS THAT.) I'm looking forward to Halloween more and more and more. I've never even been a big fan of it...(I was traumatized by a booby trapped house as a child, true story) but this year I'm actually SO excited. My love of Freddie combined with my love of gay bars will explode into black and orange glittery love. Seriously. Bek got a lot of the stuff for her costume. GO TEAM US!
After shopping we went out for dinner and spoke about the sort of near but also slightly distant future. We spoke about Chuck Palahniuk's soon to be released book Damned, and of our prospective lives if we moved to Montreal. Nous avons parlé de l'étudie le Francais. University and work. My prospective writing portfolio. Ogling the Montreal men. Apartment warming parties. I don't know. It was enough to bring a little warmth back into my bones and lift my spirits. That's what friends are for!
Plans? Costume? Tits? TELL ME ALL ABOUT IT.
The Bear scares away my optimism and I crawl back into bed at 4 in the afternoon because I don't want to go downstairs and eat everything in the kitchen out of some nameless anxiety and feelings of being emotionally and physically hideous. Some bitterness. I don't know...it's not a good state of mind. I'm not looking for sympathy here, I'm just saying, that's how out of whack I get around this time. Jill and Rebekah both separately suggested going on the pill to help regulate some of my hormones, which I think might be a good idea. Except that you need to get your doctor to give you a PAP, and in my peaky, pre-PMS whiny sensitive state, the worst idea ever seems to be an old guy looking at my lady parts, analyzing them while he thinks about the bad golf game he had on the weekend.
It wouldn't be the first time something like this has happened to me.
(For those of you who aren't educated, that's the journal I had before this one. Warning: The post talks about my tits and the awkward doctor appointment where they were first revealed to the world. Yes, I said tits.)
Either way. To lift our spirits and get some stuff done, Bek and I went Halloween shopping today. I got white pants, suspenders, shoes, a wig and a moustache. My Freddie ensemble is basically complete. (Weird story: While we were at the second costume store, we saw costume moustaches made out of 100 percent REAL HUMAN HAIR. WTF IS THAT.) I'm looking forward to Halloween more and more and more. I've never even been a big fan of it...(I was traumatized by a booby trapped house as a child, true story) but this year I'm actually SO excited. My love of Freddie combined with my love of gay bars will explode into black and orange glittery love. Seriously. Bek got a lot of the stuff for her costume. GO TEAM US!
After shopping we went out for dinner and spoke about the sort of near but also slightly distant future. We spoke about Chuck Palahniuk's soon to be released book Damned, and of our prospective lives if we moved to Montreal. Nous avons parlé de l'étudie le Francais. University and work. My prospective writing portfolio. Ogling the Montreal men. Apartment warming parties. I don't know. It was enough to bring a little warmth back into my bones and lift my spirits. That's what friends are for!
Plans? Costume? Tits? TELL ME ALL ABOUT IT.
October 10, 2011
Thanksgibbin's
Every year on Thanksgiving, my family has dinner together. We invite our neighbors who only have family out of town, our friends who live alone, my sisters brought their boyfriends. Every year we have a big meal and after we finish, before the evening is through, we sit around the table, and go in a circle, and say what we're thankful for.
I want to continue this tradition if/when I get to have a family of my own. I think I would love to have people so close by to me, an open group of friends where the line blurs into family, and a moment of clarity and honesty and gratitude. Some people think about it before, some of us go on the spot.
This year, I was thankful for the life I lead and the problems I have.
I'm looking into post secondary so that I can work with a non-profit organization. Through this lense I've seen a lot of bad things. People less fortunate than I am. I know that compared to what SOME people go through, my problems are nothing.
So I am thankful that my obstacles, mental, physical, romantic, artistic, whatever...I'm glad I can overcome them. Everytime I overcome a problem, I grow a little. And when I grow enough, I'll be able to reach out to others and help them with their problems. See the bigger picture.
What are you thankful for this year?
I've been sick, with a little cold, a little nausea, a little fever.
I've been feeling pretty antsy lately too. Like there's something wild under my skin and I'm not sure how to take care of it this time.
I've been lost, looking at my options for the future and wavering on my path. Whatever path that is. Even with a list of like...15 schools Canada-wide...that's still a 15 different lives to choose from.
I think people don't hug each other enough.
EDIT: RANDOM UPDATE.
I was feeling like adding more so I decided to throw in a couple of outfit pictures featuring my lovely orange jacket. Again. Sue me. I was feeling a little like ass kicking today, so not featured in these pictures are my ass kicking black combat boots. I like wearing t-shirts, but there's a fine line between a boring t-shirt and jeans and a nicely put together ENSEMBLE. Yeah, that's a hoity toity word.
One of these days I'm going to find a better space to take outfit photos in, because I realize right now that my blog has more torsos than a serial killer's garden.
Jacket: H&M
Meanie-bo-beanie...or as we say here, toque: H&M
Sick Boy T-Shirt: Birthday present!
Jeans: Forever 21
Combat Boots (MIA): Spring
I want to continue this tradition if/when I get to have a family of my own. I think I would love to have people so close by to me, an open group of friends where the line blurs into family, and a moment of clarity and honesty and gratitude. Some people think about it before, some of us go on the spot.
This year, I was thankful for the life I lead and the problems I have.
I'm looking into post secondary so that I can work with a non-profit organization. Through this lense I've seen a lot of bad things. People less fortunate than I am. I know that compared to what SOME people go through, my problems are nothing.
So I am thankful that my obstacles, mental, physical, romantic, artistic, whatever...I'm glad I can overcome them. Everytime I overcome a problem, I grow a little. And when I grow enough, I'll be able to reach out to others and help them with their problems. See the bigger picture.
What are you thankful for this year?
I've been sick, with a little cold, a little nausea, a little fever.
I've been feeling pretty antsy lately too. Like there's something wild under my skin and I'm not sure how to take care of it this time.
I've been lost, looking at my options for the future and wavering on my path. Whatever path that is. Even with a list of like...15 schools Canada-wide...that's still a 15 different lives to choose from.
I think people don't hug each other enough.
EDIT: RANDOM UPDATE.
I was feeling like adding more so I decided to throw in a couple of outfit pictures featuring my lovely orange jacket. Again. Sue me. I was feeling a little like ass kicking today, so not featured in these pictures are my ass kicking black combat boots. I like wearing t-shirts, but there's a fine line between a boring t-shirt and jeans and a nicely put together ENSEMBLE. Yeah, that's a hoity toity word.
One of these days I'm going to find a better space to take outfit photos in, because I realize right now that my blog has more torsos than a serial killer's garden.
Jacket: H&M
Meanie-bo-beanie...or as we say here, toque: H&M
Sick Boy T-Shirt: Birthday present!
Jeans: Forever 21
Combat Boots (MIA): Spring
October 07, 2011
Bumblebees
I've been busy lately, and more or less happy with being busy. When I'm not at work, I feel creative and I want to have fun and enjoy every second with people and with writing and everything.
Let's start off with exterior blogs & writing:
Behind the Green Apron: Part II
Fashion Friday: Your Style
Shameless self promotion! OH. And I got my hands on a copy of the Comeback Issue, the first paper issue of Travis this year. I saw my piece. I saw my picture. UN.REAL.
I never thought when I was younger I'd be in a magazine... and now.... I feel small town famous.
I got down to a little baking too!
Double glazed pumpkin scones. (Simpsons fans: Mmmm....double glazed.....) I got the recipe, and believe me. THESE WERE SO GOOD. I ate THREE the day I baked them. I brought one to work for breakfast the next morning (5AM shifts or bust?), and when I got home from work , I realized they were so good my dog Jack had eaten ALL OF THEM. That was a little sad. I'll just have to try and crank those out tomorrow before all of our guests arrive for thanksgiving dinner!
UHHHHHH. I have to go to bed now. I open 5:30AM tomorrow. Thanks, Starbucks, you douche.
Let's start off with exterior blogs & writing:
Behind the Green Apron: Part II
Fashion Friday: Your Style
Shameless self promotion! OH. And I got my hands on a copy of the Comeback Issue, the first paper issue of Travis this year. I saw my piece. I saw my picture. UN.REAL.
I never thought when I was younger I'd be in a magazine... and now.... I feel small town famous.
I got down to a little baking too!
Double glazed pumpkin scones. (Simpsons fans: Mmmm....double glazed.....) I got the recipe, and believe me. THESE WERE SO GOOD. I ate THREE the day I baked them. I brought one to work for breakfast the next morning (5AM shifts or bust?), and when I got home from work , I realized they were so good my dog Jack had eaten ALL OF THEM. That was a little sad. I'll just have to try and crank those out tomorrow before all of our guests arrive for thanksgiving dinner!
UHHHHHH. I have to go to bed now. I open 5:30AM tomorrow. Thanks, Starbucks, you douche.
October 05, 2011
Orangetober
Shut up, I hate making titles. Welcome, welcome to my half assed attempt at outfit pictures, to flaunt this new jacket. This new, AMAZING, awesome jacket.
Every time Rebekah and I wandered into H&M, I would gaze at it on the way out. Lovingly. Longingly. And when it went on mid-season sale, Rebekah earned the BFF of the year award by surprising me with it as a gift before we went to see 50/50 on Sunday. If I am 49 years old and we are still both single, in a perfect world I will marry her for this, down on one knee with a Tiffany ring in one hand and a bag of sour watermelons in the other.
It's SO COMFORTABLE and very fall-y with gold buttons. Of course, being me, I couldn't just leave it at orange. So I added a red dress and my maroon scarf. Then I had light grey tights and black boots on. When I had dinner with my friend Justin tonight, (goat curry and naan bread for me, NOM NOM NOM!) he told me that he normally doesn't like orange on people, but said I was doing a good job. Rock on, orange jacket. Rock on.
Sooo, the one on the right is a little...
Dress: Topshop (Thrifted!)
Scarf:I have no idea, it's a scarf. I've had it forever!
Every time Rebekah and I wandered into H&M, I would gaze at it on the way out. Lovingly. Longingly. And when it went on mid-season sale, Rebekah earned the BFF of the year award by surprising me with it as a gift before we went to see 50/50 on Sunday. If I am 49 years old and we are still both single, in a perfect world I will marry her for this, down on one knee with a Tiffany ring in one hand and a bag of sour watermelons in the other.
It's SO COMFORTABLE and very fall-y with gold buttons. Of course, being me, I couldn't just leave it at orange. So I added a red dress and my maroon scarf. Then I had light grey tights and black boots on. When I had dinner with my friend Justin tonight, (goat curry and naan bread for me, NOM NOM NOM!) he told me that he normally doesn't like orange on people, but said I was doing a good job. Rock on, orange jacket. Rock on.
Sooo, the one on the right is a little...
Dress: Topshop (Thrifted!)
Scarf:I have no idea, it's a scarf. I've had it forever!
October 04, 2011
Blip on the Radar
Hey I wrote a thing!
Behind The Green Apron: Part I
Other things on the way: Pumpkin scones, 10K run woes, an outfit post I owe Rebekah, university Qs, coffee concoctions (the search for my signature beverage), volunteer options and.... I have no idea.
My coffee is cold now and I think I need to shower. Enjoy this in the meantime:
Bek and I saw it on Sunday. It's a beautiful movie which takes life on in monotone colours and spatters it with gut wrenching, heart crushing emotion and serious laughter that give it a life all it's own. Joseph Gordon-Levitt is PERFECT, and Seth Rogen plays Seth Rogen, AGAIN, but you can't really see him in any other role. He's in his element, between hilarious and heartwarming. Rather than being all comedy, it manages the perfect 50/50 balance between comedy and heartbreak. Sincerity and sorrow and joy. LOVED IT. THAT IS ALL.
Behind The Green Apron: Part I
Other things on the way: Pumpkin scones, 10K run woes, an outfit post I owe Rebekah, university Qs, coffee concoctions (the search for my signature beverage), volunteer options and.... I have no idea.
My coffee is cold now and I think I need to shower. Enjoy this in the meantime:
Bek and I saw it on Sunday. It's a beautiful movie which takes life on in monotone colours and spatters it with gut wrenching, heart crushing emotion and serious laughter that give it a life all it's own. Joseph Gordon-Levitt is PERFECT, and Seth Rogen plays Seth Rogen, AGAIN, but you can't really see him in any other role. He's in his element, between hilarious and heartwarming. Rather than being all comedy, it manages the perfect 50/50 balance between comedy and heartbreak. Sincerity and sorrow and joy. LOVED IT. THAT IS ALL.
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