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."

Harvey gets me.

"Go after her. Fuck, don’t sit there and wait for her to call, go after her because that’s what you should do if you love someone, don’t wait for them to give you a sign cause it might never come, don’t let people happen to you, don’t let me happen to you, or her, she’s not a fucking television show or tornado. There are people I might have loved had they gotten on the airplane or run down the street after me or called me up drunk at four in the morning because they need to tell me right now and because they cannot regret this and I always thought I’d be the only one doing crazy things for people who would never give enough of a fuck to do it back or to act like idiots or be entirely vulnerable and honest and making someone fall in love with you is easy and flying 3000 miles on four days notice because you can’t just sit there and do nothing and breathe into telephones is not everyone’s idea of love but it is the way I can recognize it because that is what I do. Go scream it and be with her in meaningful ways because that is beautiful and that is generous and that is what loving someone is, that is raw and that is unguarded, and that is all that is worth anything, really." -- Harvey Milk

Annnnnnd this is why he's one of my favourite people in the history of history.

Riot Grrl

I saw my first in person student protest up close and personal today. Cops in riot gear, lobbing what looked like bright fireworks into crowds of yelling people who scattered on contact as the explosions of the firecrackers punctuated the air kicking inside of the drums.

I don't even know what to think about any of this. I just thought, "This is just like Les Miserables." And I was fascinated, almost like it was surreal. Still feel a bit like that, actually. That is all.

Little Things

I celebrated Valentine's Day with a glass of red wine and a microwavable Brownie recipe, practicing for a French oral presentation and watching Arrested Development. All that was missing from the picture was either a cat (Telly was nowhere to be found!) for the single cliché, or a Mr. Life-Of-Wiley... but Rome wasn't built in a day, and so, friends, we keep waiting for Somebody to Love.

BUT, it is the little things we have to appreciate, at the end of a rough week. A week we spent being anxious and sick and eating emotionally. Life goes on, the treadmill and the gym will still be there, health returns, and midterms will plague us, come hell or high water, self pity, or bagel overdoses.

Today I was at work, when a guy came in wearing a pink sweater vest and a pink bowtie. It. Was. Awesome... and in my excitement, I couldn't contain myself. I told him so. I love when people get festive, a little homage to the day, the time, the feeling. I myself put on bright pink lip colour for the occasion.
Just before he left with his friends, the bowtie man stopped by the counter and told me I had really great beauty marks.

He meant the moles I have on my face.

The ones I get self conscious about. The ones I got from my mother's side.

The ones no one has ever complimented me about, EVER, until today. It was honestly... pretty amazing, if I do say so myself. Moles are beauty marks in someone else's eyes. It's all about perspective, folks.

Other great stuff?

My friend Jocelyn got engaged! (Eeeee!)

And it was Jill's birthday. (Happy Birthday Jilligan! Let me know when you finally get to that video I sent you. <3)

Le Tired

It's Friday night/Saturday morning, 3AM precisely, the neighbors are blasting music loud as hell, and I'm sitting on my couch blogging. Why am I sitting on my couch blogging, instead of out and about in the city with the people?

Well, for starters, it's cold outside. This morning waiting for the bus, I was cursing the land itself while snowflakes sliced the air, riding on the back of the wind. I knew that tonight was not a "going out on the town to spend money I can't afford to spend, sitting in the same bar" (anything close to the house. Seriously I am a baby when it comes to winter) night. No, I said. Eff you, winter, I said. I'm a badass and I say what I want.

Secondly, this week sort of kicked my ass. I started my new job as a Barista at Java U, which means my usual sleep in days or days off became: "get up at 6AM and hustle to the metro" days. And sleep time became paper writing time or workout time (sometimes) or studying-for-French-exams time. J'etais fatigué. I can only hope that as time goes on, my body will adjust to being on the go all the time and managing all of this won't feel so exhaustive. When I got home from class today, I made a bowl of popcorn, crawled into my bed and watched Portlandia. And it. Was. Awesome.

I regret NOTHING.

Other than that....I'm doing alright. I ate WAY too much chocolate today (there are worse problems to have), I lost 2.5 lbs this week (...no thanks to the chocolate), I aced my French exam with panache (le yay!) and I have a whole weekend in which to do nothing. Or to say I want to do nothing, only to snap with cabin fever and venture forth. It's all good.

Also: I'm thinking about starting a recipe/food blog again, for real this time. My attempt in the past was half hearted and it happened at a time when I wasn't cooking for myself all that much. I think it would be fun, I'm passionate about it, I eat food pretty much every day of my life and it would help me sharpen my writing skills. But I need a name....