As I'm typing this, I've got the back door open to the screen, the light is streaming into the kitchen, the breeze is wandering on in of it's own warm(ish) volition, and baby oh baby, I hate to jinx it but does it ever feel like spring here!

Spring, that comes after the LONG Montreal winter. Spring that puts love back into my heart for life itself. No kidding here, winter was rough-- there were a few times where I was sure I had made the wrong choice to move here and I was going to have to move back to Ontario in order to prevent myself from going insane. Too cold. Too French. Too dark, too lonely. Too heartless. Spring is making me fall in love with the city all over again. The patios are out, people are strutting their fashion, and me?

I finished my LAST final two days ago! First year is officially over. I forgot how absolutely awesome it is to get that feeling of "SUMMER VACATION". Usually when you graduate, you never see that feeling again. It was nice to get in touch with the excitement, the liberation, especially when it was so hard earned.
My last exam was a French exam-- I was not even stressed about a bit, replacing hard studying with blog baking until my face fell off and casually reviewing my notes. Ho hum, the subjunctive tense, whatever you say, Madame.

That was, until the 10 page monstrosity was dropped in front of me. It took me two and a half out of three possible hours to polish that sucker off, and I'm sure I'm one of the stronger students in that class. I think I broke a sweat. I think I wrote notes in the margins like a manic linguist, hoping to put down things before they disappeared in my panic. I think my eyes maybe rolled back in my head and I can only hope I wrote in tongues. Who can say? The results will be up soon.

All the while, there are things to be planning. To be doing. Steph and Philip's wedding is next month, Australia is less than 60 days away (AHH!) and in between all of these things there is Mother's Day, and MAYBE the Waterloo Classic 10K to look forward to. That's right, my second 10K race ever. Days like these, I look forward to living.

Running Season.

I can feel myself backsliding into a hole. There's a possibility this is hormones and negativity talking, and I hope that's the case because that means I'll be back to normal within a week or so instead of infinitely hiding out under the cover of low self confidence/laziness/gettingbacktorunningscaresme.


I took my measurements a few days ago to order my bridesmaid's dress for Stephanie's wedding. I wasn't AFRAID of the numbers, but when I took them, I was both amused (big surprise, my badonk had the biggest measurement) and a little disappointed. I know I can do better, and I really want to. Sometimes, it's hard to remember dissatisfaction when the people around you don't see anything bad, or praise you. It's great for the confidence, of course, but bad for my drive to kick ass.

Which should be good overall, because my motive to kick ass should be for me, and me alone, not based on other people.

The Burnout

Dear anxiety, doubt, fear, oppression, and low-self confidence,

Dear world,

I'm never going to quit.

But, I'm not going to lie and say that I won't ever feel like quitting. 
There are days now, and there will be days in the future, where my heart will be tired and my head will be angry and my fingers will be cold with sadness, and my shoulders will hurt from hugging my pillow too tight in my sleep. There will be pathetic, angst ridden days, for every day spent in the sun. There will be hours where fighting for the little guy will appear to be anything but worth it. Days when sleepwalking and shutting down will be the temptation over feeling, and feeling deeply.

But I am never going to give up. Not on myself, and not on you, not on this, the world, the now or the future. Don't expect me to avoid scraping my knees or falling face down in the dirt. Don’t expect me to feel this way all the time, either. I’ll play dead, swearing like the victim of a whiskey soaked hangover that I’ll never do it again. That I give up, I let go, that I’m never making it and I’m okay with that. This defeatist attitude will all be fucking talk. Eventually I will rise up, wipe the tears and dirt from my cheeks, spit out the grit, and keep going. 

And I will do it for myself, and for every single person who has told me to never change. Every single person who needs a change.
"You are something. One of those most amazing somethings this life has to offer."