Wherein I Write Something Real. And Scary. And A Little Stupid.

Note: I've posted this and unposted this so many times, that it's a little bit ridiculous. But sometimes, it's so friggen hard to own up to things, and not just things..feelings. That being said, a few people did see this..and reached out. They sent comments, dms and long emails making me feel not so alone. Made me feel like they GOT it, and that even though they wished this wasn't how I felt...it was okay to feel this way. It was the first time I've ever been able to express these feelings and have people look at me and say...it sucks, but it's okay...and just so you know..I've been there/am there/get it. 

So while it's making me want to scream and run the other way to think about going through with posting this..AGAIN...I want it to be out there, to say hey, I get it too - you can talk to me about it. Furthermore, I want people to be able to understand a little bit better of how my brain works...so that maybe they can understand a little bit more what's going through my head when I seem to be so negative on myself.  I feel like there are a lot of people that just..don't get it. They don't understand how I can have so much hatred and negative feelings toward myself..and it just seems absurd to them...which as much as I get...it's hard for me to have people who think that I've DECIDED to be this way, to think this way. As if could just CHANGE my mind on these things if I REALLY wanted to. Trust me, I would in a HEARTBEAT if I could..but these things are so much a part of me, that they feel like they're as changable as my skin colour or my gender. Lastly, I hope that by owning this post..and owning up to it...it will help me to grow and change into the person I want to be. You gotta dream it to believe it..or something like that. 

So, without further ado...I give you my thoughts oh myself. They're not pretty, or fun or happy...but they're what's in this ridiculous head of mine..and that's all I can give you right now.

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This is a topic that has been sitting in my drafts folder for weeks. Months, if I'm being honest.

Something that I can't get out of my head - yet something that I don't want to write down.

It plagues me like a sickness. It haunts me everywhere.

I feel like anytime something isn't right, anytime something is wrong - it's because of it.

It being that I hate photographs of myself. (Getting the courage to post those took days. And I still fear them being out there. I thought I was making such progress. Yet, it takes everything I have right now to not run and delete those. Seriously.) So much so that I dread avatars. Display pictures. All of those things where I have to try and find the least horrendous photo of myself. Not a good one. Just one that might be the lesser of the evils. Whatever that may be. 

Either way. I hate, despise, want to burn pictures of me. I just have a general sort of hatred for photos of myself. 

To the nth degree.

They make me cringe, cry and fall into a deep pit of despair. 

It's not just photographs though..it's everything. It's having to look in the mirror, it's catching my reflection in a window - it's seeing so many other beautiful people around me when I feel so ugly.  

I hate it all. Because it's just a constant reminder of what I'm not. Of what I wished I was. It's a reminder of being ugly. 

And I hate it. 

I hate HATING my looks and my body almost as much as I actually hate my looks and my body. 

I hate that I don't feel comfortable in my own skin, and that I'm always comparing myself to everyone and anyone around me...and I hate that it makes me so miserable. Because really? SO WHAT. So I'm not pretty - let alone gorgeous -  is that really what I want to be known for? Is it THAT important in the grand scheme of things? Is that really what DEFINES me? Is it what I WANT to define me? Of course not. But I still want it - some part of me is ingrained to want it. To yearn for it. To desire it more than a lot of things...in spite of how shallow it makes me sound.  

Then today? Today, I read a post - on one of my favourite websites.

About how hard women are on themselves.

And how this collective group of women were taking back their photos. They were posting photos of themselves with what they thought were their flaws - and everyone would post back with their interpretation of the photo.

And what happened next..was an outpouring of beautiful women, posting beautiful photos...and then the beautiful women sharing the beauty they saw in the photos. 

I commented on every single one of them throughout the day. Because there was so much beauty in each one that could not be denied - it simply was.

It took all of the courage I could build up to post one of myself...but I did it.

It took more then all of the courage I had to not rip it down off the vile thing we like to call the internet..and I sat there crying and wondering what people would say - or how they could possibly even come up with things that were okay, let alone GOOD for my photo.

Comments came. Lovely comments. Like all of the other comments on the photos.

And while they were nice...my own self hatred seems to run so deep that I cannot bring myself to believe them. I look at everyone elses photos and see these beautiful women and all of the comments I know to be true - but I look at mine..and I cringe. I cry, and want to curl into a deep dark hole where no one can see my ugly face...because even though I know that all of the other comments on this groups page are true, accurate representations of peoples beauty..I feel like for me..they're just playing. They're just saying something because they feel like they HAVE to say something. 

I've never been good at explaining these thoughts and my feelings on this subject to people. People tell me to stop being dramatic and ridiculous. I think that they think I'm looking for attention, or compliments - when that is actually what I dread the most. Because I don't know how to respond to them, and further yet - I feel like people are just lying to me to placate me so I stop being so annoying. They try to tell me that I'm pretty, that this, that or the other thing - but they just don't seem to get it. They don't get that it's not the words that could make it better. That no matter what they say - it doesn't sink into this brain of mine. My mind seems to have made its decision - and that's that - no matter what someone says..I don't know if it can ever be changed...because I just can't bring myself to believe it. It's been a part of me for so long that I don't really remember ever not thinking this way. How can other peoples words change your own opinion about yourself - when it runs so deep within your being? 

It's just a part of me that I wish people understood - because it is such a big part of me. But most times..I keep my mouth shut and just shut up..because people don't get it...and me complaining about it..won't change that. I feel like the negativity surrounding my self esteem/image is such a downer, and makes people mad at me. So, I pretend it doesn't bother me. I stopped saying negative things out loud, and let people take their photos when necessary. Where I use to say OMG THIS IS THE WORST PHOTO EVER and then rip it apart to everyone..I now grin and bear it. Say..oh..cute..I need a copy of that. And then my mind goes to war with it, a silent but deadly war. I thought that if I just pretended out loud long enough, it'd go away. But now, the voice in my head gets stronger and stronger. Pointing out each and every flaw every time that I have my picture taken, that I pass a mirror - that I catch myself in a reflection. Still, I hide it all in a place deep within me..because it makes me even uglier then I already feel I am. So I guess it really doesn't even make sense to talk or write about it..because it's just me..babbling and complaining about something that I don't know how to change - or even know if I can change. But still, here I am. Which is why I've been sitting here for four (going on five? or rather, six? Let's just go with most of today. If I ever get the balls to post this. WHY IS THIS SO HARD??) hours debating whether or not to press publish. Because as much as it explains a lot of the insecurities that run rampant throughout my brain - it's also comes across as petty, ridiculous and a little absurd. Which is just a few of many reasons why I've been debating writing this post for months. 

I really was hopeful that by putting myself out there..maybe I wouldn't hate photos of myself so much. Maybe I'd see something that other people swear they see. That maybe I wouldn't hate how I look QUITE so much..but it seems that this hatred..runs deeper then even I thought. 

...It just seems that no matter what I do..I still can't seem to love the face staring back at me in the mirror. 

The Evolution of Saturday Nights

When I was little - Saturday nights were cherished. They were nights where we'd hang out as a family, just doing normal family stuff. We'd make a good dinner, and then hang out, doing whatever. Sometimes we'd play boardgames, sometimes we'd just sit around talking. Sometimes we'd watch a movie, or sometimes we'd convince my parents to dig out their old SLIDES (yes, actually) and show us pictures of the places in the world they'd been.

But then I grew up - as one does - and those nights became a little less frequent. Saturday nights were made for going to the movies with BFFs, or hanging out in somebodys basement. Drinking warm beer in a field or just being ridiculous - because we could.

Saturday nights changed once again in University. We'd go play pool, go to our favourite local pub and have "peanut races", we'd hit up a house party, a kegger, or drink wine in bathtubs - while fully clothed. Wait. That last one only happened once. But it was still an awesome Saturday night.

Saturday nights in University could mean one of many things - but quite often left my poor liver feeling the after affects the next morning. I can remember showing up to my favourite bar on homecoming at SIX PM - and almost NOT getting in - my girlfriends and I only getting in because we knew the bouncers and they let us in. We'd drink pitchers of beer, laugh while adding to the (encouraged and welcomed) graffeti on the bathroom walls with a marker from the barkeep - and then sometime around midnight, someone would start dancing - our favourite pub owner would KINDLY remind us that there was STILL NO DANCING IN HIS ESTABLISHMENT - and tell us to go dance like fools somewhere else. So we would, stumbling down the street until we arrived at our destination - dancing away until last call when we stumbled home, laughing, talking and stopping by for some sort of disgusting calorie laden food that would (hopefully) soak up (some of) the alcohol.

In Europe - my Saturdays were split. Some Saturdays were spent laughing, cuddling and hanging out with my girls. It was either that, or I'd jump on a train and go out to a pub, bar or club in Zurich - depending on everyones mood and what we were up for - though you could usually find someone up for anything. If it was too cold to go out, or we were broke..we'd all gather at my house, cook up a storm of good food and have dance parties in the kitchen with a (few) bottle(s) of wine and some best friends. And if NONE of these were occuring - then I would be found on a plane, a train or exploring a new country or city. Basically - no matter what way you spun it - awesome.

Now though? My Saturday nights are pretty tame.

I've "grown up" - where staying up past 11 is a "big night" - and if you're wearing clothes that couldn't be considered pjs after 8 - you're just being fancy. If I have a glass of wine - it's lovely. If not, it's probably because I was too lazy to get up and get myself one. I spend entirely too much (definitely debatable) time on Twitter. Laughing at the ridiculousness that is life. Smiling. Having epic chats and wishing I could move all of the awesome on twitter into my backyard.

Take for instance this past Saturday. What did I do?

I came in from work, dropped into a heap of exhaustion on the couch and read through posts and comments all from a simple question. Things that made my heart soar, because I suddenly felt SO CONNECTED to people that I'd never met. I put myself out there (and even if it wasn't in the same way as this person or that person or other people - it was this defining moment when something just..changed. I really am at a loss for words - although I think that these other women were affected in very similar ways and we all were left wondering what happened and how it happened - but grateful that it did.

THEN...Danna and I had awesome inspiring convos about politics, religion, morals, ethics, values and all other things that are amazing. It was so..wonderful...to just chat. To discuss. To LEARN. To take each others POV and look at it and realise that even though we may differ on things - our ROOTS are basically IDENTICLE (which is why we long ago decided that we were LLT's [Long-Lost-Twins]) and that even though our lives are so far apart, that our lives are so DIFFERENT - we both can see, accept and love the other person. It was really awe inspiring, motivating and made my heart REALLY happy. Really REALLY happy. It just furthered EVERYTHING that had transpired earlier in the day.

Then - I had a brief conversation with Chibi - who FYI - is basically ME - like..my thoughts, my EVERYTHING - in a different body. I'm starting to wonder if maybe she's just me..but a couple years older. It's crazy, yet awesome. We have chats on gchat and I'm like..DUDE..YOU JUST *ACTUALLY* STOLE WORDS OUT OF MY MOUTH. It's all sorts of awesome. Especially because our convos also revolve around things like...wanting to make out with our country. HILARIOUS. Yes. Awesome? WITHOUT A DOUBT.

Then - after THAT - I was all..I'm going to go to bed..but then TWITTER sucked me back in..and suddenly I was trying to trade one of my GOATS for a PICKLE and it just got a little out of hand..but let's just say that @aliholden now is the rightful owner to a goat - and I'm expecting a pickle in 4-7 business days.

Oh Saturday nights - how they've changed.

Not for the better, not for the worse. Just changed, just different.

Thing is though? I wouldn't have it any other way - because last Saturday night? It pretty much made my life. With people who are like me. With people who GET me. With people who CARE.

Now all I need to do is get a magical machine so that they can all be sitting in my living room next Saturday night - and I'll be set for life.

Hollywood Makes Me Go GRRRRRR

So sometimes, I get a little bit angry.

Angry because well...I'm pretty convinced that Hollywood has me bugged. Yes. Hollywood as an ENTITY. And not only that - but they're stealing MY AWESOME.

I know.

SAD FACE.

So..This one time..I was all... "MAN. BEING A NANNY IS CRAZY"

And then I had SO MANY CRAZY STORIES.

And then I blogged (privately) about them (because lawsuits are NOT FUN).

And everyone is all OMG! YOU SHOULD MAKE THAT INTO A BOOK! NAY! A MOVIE! IT'S SO CRAZY AND AWESOME! IT'S RIDICULOUS THAT THAT COULD BE ANYONES LIFE!

..While I sat there going DUDES. That crazy stuff? It's MY life. I'm LIVING it.

And then what happens? The movie "The Nanny Diaries" comes out.

And they ripped off at LEAST half of my good material.

I mean, I've definitely still got enough for at least a sequel -  but they'll probably be all..copyrights - blah blah blah - Erin can't be a bajillionaire - TOO BAD.

And I will cry.

So I decided to go another route. Let's see how many weddings can I be in while still being a crazy old spinster?! THE MOVIE!

After next summer, I'll have been in at least 9. Which isn't too shabby for 25. But it means that I gotta get my A game on.

BUT THEN THEY WENT AND STOLE *THAT* IDEA TOO. Stupid Katherine Heigel and her stupid movies.

I know.

Hollywood is Jerks.

With a capital J.

So now..I've got nothing..and all I can do is wonder if I can somehow make a movie about a farm girl who wears heels in the mud...while homeschooling the children she's a nanny for..on the back of a tractor..WHILE in a wedding. Possibly with a monkey.

Because who doesn't love a good monkey scene?

Yeah. That's totally gonna be my new plan. My blockbuster. IT'S WHAT'S GONNA MAKE ME MILLIONS!

..Now all I gotta do is figure out how to make this baby before HOLLYWOOD catches on.

And I swear to everything..if something like that comes out in the next few months...I'm SERIOUSLY gonna punch someone.

Hard.

I'm Not Scared At All

Last night, as I was drinking wine and writing about what I was scared of writing about...this song popped into my shuffle list on itunes - and it was just so perfectly fitting. I love this song so much - and it puts into words so many things that I often think about. Especially when you're thinking about life, friendships, relationships and what things are and where they're going - and everything inbetween. Because the truth is - I'm scared of life a lot of times - of all of the unknown variables and everything inbetween...but this song always makes me smile a little and makes me go...oh right..ENJOY IT..don't be scared if things aren't perfect..live, laugh, love - and enjoy. 


So, I share with you some lyrics...perhaps they'll strike a chord with you too. (Ha. I didn't mean to be so witty. I'm such a DORK.)





Drinking wine and thinking bliss, is on the other side of this
I just need a compass and a willing accomplice
All my doubts that fill my head are skidding up and down again
Up and down and round again, down and up and down again.

Oh, I've had my chances and I've taken them all.
Just to end up right back here on the floor.
To end up right back here in on the floor.

Pennies in a well, a million dollars in the fountain of a hotel.
Fortune teller that says maybe you will go to hell.
But I'm not scared at all...hmm hmm hmm hmm hmm

The cracks in the crystal, the cracks in the crystal ball.

Sometimes you think everything is wrapped inside a diamond ring
Love just needs a witness and a little forgivness
And a halo of patience and a less sporadic pace and
I'm learning to be brave in my beautiful mistakes.

Oh I've felt that fire and I've been burned
But I wouldn't trade the pain for what I've learned
I wouldn't trade the pain for what I've learned.

Pennies in a well, a million dollars in the fountain of a hotel.
Fortune teller that says maybe you will go to hell.
But I'm not scared at all...hmm hmm hmm hmm hmm

Of the cracks in the crystal, the cracks in the crystal ball.

Irony, irony, this hate and love, hate and love
What it does to me, what it's done to me.
What is done...done

Pennies in a well, a million dollars in the fountain of a hotel.
Broken mirrors and a black cat's cold stare,
Walk under ladders on my way to hell, I'll meet you there.

But I'm not scared at all, hmm...I'm not scared at all.

Bout the cracks in the crystal, the cracks in the crystal ball.

Blogging About Blogging

So. In HAPPIER news.

My lovely bloggy friend Hasta Claridad has started this awesome little bit of fun where she puts of questions to her readers, and then answers them every Saturday...and invites everyone to JOIN IN!

Since the last few of my Saturdays have been rather hectic, I've missed out. Which is LE SAD. The topic that little old me produced actually had me wanting to tell you oodles of stories about bugs - and I've been thinking about it for ages - so perhaps I'll actually get around to it one of these days!

On to TODAY'S topic though.

Today's question was from @Courtney Jayne (who I don't actually don't know, but if she knows @Hasta Claridad ..well..she's probably pretty awesome.) ANYWAY.  She  asked  "What are you most afraid to write about and why?"

I know that I'm all I'm a brave farm girl - What could I possibly have to write about?! I know everything! I'm not scared to talk about ANYTHING - but the truth is...I'm afraid to write about a lot of things.

Like, a lot.

So many that I'm going to make you a whole LIST of things that I'm afraid of tackling on my blog.

1) Politics and Religion

Some people go there - and for them, that may be good. For me? It's just not. Just as I think that business and these things shouldn't mix - I also like to think that blogging and these things shouldn't mix. I have my own ideas, views and opinions about politics and religion. Who knows whether or not they'd mesh with yours - that's not what I'm here for.  I enjoy thoughtful, tolerant discussion - with people who also like that - but I don't enjoy debating and I don't enjoy arguing. I actually love finding out others viewpoints and trying to learn something from them and their points of view - but I've seen these sorts of discussions fly out of control way too many times via the internet to want to open that can of worms. I'm tolerant of everyones points of views - I may not necessarily agree with everything that they believe or say, but everyone is different - and that's okay..it's actually great. It's what makes the world go round, and what makes life interesting - so even if I don't necessarily share your beliefs or opinions, I'm still glad you have them - because that's what makes you YOU - and if you're reading this? Well, then - I probably already think you're awesome - regardless of what party you vote for or what church you go to (or for that matter - don't go to). Tolerance and acceptance is way more important in my books - which is why I'm not too concerned with knowing these things about people. Don't get me wrong - I'm interested, really super interested - I just don't always know how to bring these sorts of things up without sounding like a jerk or like someone who's butting into things that they have no reason butting into.

2) Friends & Family Stuffola

I'll tell fun stories, happy stories - most of the time. Sometimes though, I really want to get into something deeper - something with real meat on it's bones. But it's hard - because man, sometimes stuff is deep and depressing and blah and I don't really want this place to be all about that. And sometimes I don't feel like it's my place to talk about these things, because they're not MY things. Sure, they impact me - and yes, there are things that I would like to or have discussed here - but I don't want to get into specific things behind someones back - and it's hard to talk about things without discussing specifics - or at least without the person/issue you're writing about being able to know you were writing about them/an issue to do with them. It's hard, because you want to write things from your perspective - but you also don't want to do the issue an injustice. I've actually finished at least half a dozen posts in the last little while - and never published them, just because they were too personal in nature. They were about issues which I don't know if they have a place here - things that I don't know if they have a place anywhere.


3) My own deep, icky blahy issues. 

Ugh. I'm already regretting making this post into a list. So. I'm generally pretty happy - except sometimes I'm not. Sometimes life is just a big old pile of crap - and as much as it may seem like I post a lot of that on here - it's nothing compared to a lot of the thoughts that run through my head. My mind is a rather weird place - filled with a lot of issues and insecurities...and that's the joy of the blogging world - you get to chose what you show - and what you don't. If you've got something on your mind - you don't have to say it, you don't have to mention it - and no one can look at you and see it written all over your face - you're free to be..or not be. Whatever you chose. So a lot of the time, I chose to overlook the nagging in the back of my mind that says 'Why are you writing about THAT..why don't you write about THIS or THIS or THAT' - or one of the million other things that my mind likes to wage war on itself with. I can play the part of being happy, I can post funny things, I can chat about on twitter and no one knows whether I'm crying or laughing unless I TELL them.  I can even *gasp* log off - and no one is the wiser about what's going on in the depths of my mind. Unless of course you're reading my mind. Then there's THAT.

4) Cupcakes.

Why won't I write about cupcakes? Well, because they make me sad. REALLY sad. Because when I'm writing about cupcakes it either means that I don't HAVE a cupcake, but want one - Which - FYI - is ALWAYS. Or I've had a cupcake - and because I've eaten it - then don't have anymore - and am pining for one. Either way - it's just not good - and a whole lotta depressing - so I just don't go there - because man, I wouldn't want you guys to be said that you don't have cupcakes either.

So that's my list. I could actually come up with more..but I don't want to scare my whole readership of like, three people - off into the abyss of the internet...all because of things that I could write but I don't write because OMGZ BLOGGING IS LE SCARY.

Now it's YOUR turn - What are you scared of blogging about? Please tell me your insecurities so that I don't feel so bad about mine? Please?

Seriously.

Dear Life.

I've had enough.

No, really.

E-N-O-U-G-H.

All capitals. Period at the end. ENOUGH.

I'm sick of this death bullshit.

I'm sick of crying.

I'm sick of worrying.

I'm sick of not knowing.

I'm tired of it all.

Done. Finito. Kaputt.

I'm tired of funerals.

I'm tired of having to say goodbye.

I've had ENOUGH.

I'd had way more death in the last three months then I care for.

I've experienced more death in a lifetime then I wish I had to admit to.

So I'm making a moratorium.

I didn't want it to come to this, but it has.

So Universe? Consider this my official notice that I'm sending a big old SCREW YOU to death, bullshit and all other things that are sad.

I hope you understand the serious nature of this letter and smarten up and fly right.

Because SERIOUSLY.

I seriously, seriously, seriously don't think that I can handle any more right now.

Love,

Me

The Time I Almost Punched Electricity

Every year we host a maple syrup festival, and last weekend was the first weekend for it. So of course, certain things need to be figured out, remembered, little kinks here and there. My Jenny and I were in the kitchen for most of the weekend, so of course, we had oodles of fun. I love working with her..I'm pretty sure that she should just forget getting a grownup job and stay with me forever.

ANYWAY.

Sunday we were pretty busy in the kitchen, at least at times - running back and forth getting coffee, tea, making waffles. This, that and the other thing.

You know - inbetween our dance partaay karaoke fun. Oh how much fun we have working together. And just together. We're just oodles of fun. You should come out for sushi with is. It's a little ridiculous. And by ridiculous I do mean AWESOME.

So, around lunchtime, it got pretty hectic. We were calling out orders to each other like it was nobody's business, and I was simultaneously mixing batter, making hot chocolate and dancing like a fool. Amongst restocking, cleaning, selling things, dealing with questions and about six bazjillion other things and making all sorts of food stuff.

That's when the trouble started again.

The day before, we had been having trouble with a breaker and I kept having to flip it - and it drove me nuts. Then, Sunday - it was cured. It didn't break all morning - until the lunch time rush. And of course, this is what the WAFFLE MAKER is plugged into. So I'm making batter, coffee, hot chocolate, serving up random food stuffs AND running back to flip a breaker. And then having to wash my hands a bazillion times because I keep running into the back room and touching the electrical panel.

So I was like.this is okay Erin..you can handle this..it happened yesterday, and it's just going to happen again...even though ELECTRICITY SUCKS..you've just gotta deal.

So the first time it blows, I'm like..damnit..and I run to one of the back rooms.

Where I flip the breaker.

Nothing.

I flip it again.

NOTHING.

I wait, calmly trying not to FREAK OUT and I flip it ONCE MORE.

STILL NOTHING.

I proceed to run back to the kitchen to FREAK OUT and then I stop.

Dead in my tracks.

And realise that the REASON it hasn't been going back on - is because the light switch that I'd been using to gage whether I had turned the breaker on the day before - was in the off position. Thus I had just been sitting there turning power on/off/on/off/on/off - acting like a total spaz because the light in the backroom WAS TURNED OFF.

Doh.

..Tell me you're surprised.

...Please?




...Oh. And the reason it kept blowing in the FIRST place - I had unplugged a pop cooler and plugged it into a different plug (THREE ROOMS AWAY.) and apparently it's on the same circuit as the waffle maker ON THE OTHER SIDE OF THE BUILDING.Whoever wired that was REALLY thinking things through when they decided to split things on completely different ends of a building..but to be fair..they were thinking just about as much as I was when I almost punched electricity in the face. 

It seems that we're just filled up to the brim with genius 'round these parts.

This Is Why I Fail At Life

I'm twenty five years old, while many would assume that means that I am an adult capable of taking care of myself....I would have to differ.

I mean, twenty five means different things to different people. To some people, they're doing crazy wild things, having fun and living life. To others at twenty five, living life is working hard, paying the bills and raising a family. I like to think of myself as (relatively) responsible. Especially when I've got a lot on the go.

But the thing is, sometimes I get a little bit too involved.

I get 'in the zone'..and I forget. When I start working - like, really working..I tend to put myself last. Which can be a good thing...but it isn't ALWAYS a good thing. Alas, it's just the way that things work it seems. I try to remember to take care of myself, and I have good intentions...but sometimes when you look back on things...you wonder what you're doing and if you're going to pay for this later.

It just seems that I'm running around doing everything that needs to be done. I'm taking care of everyone else and meeting all of their needs and making sure that everyone else is okay, happy, fed, taken care of, etc. ..that I forget what I'm doing. I love it, and I get this extreme sense of satisfaction when I can take care of people...

..But then that I realize that it's 6pm and I haven't eaten anything yet that day.

Or drank anything.

OR that I haven't PEED since 7AM.

I have literally been running on empty and treating my body like CRAP and working non stop with little sleep, without taking a break or sitting down once. And even though I KNOW that I'm doing this, and I know that it's NOT GOOD, and I know that I have a tendency to do this..I do it. Sometimes three times a week. For months on end. Which is just..stupid.

Which is why me (and my body) are pretty glad that we're 25 and not in charge of much of anything beyond ourselves..because it seems that's all we're capable of (sometimes) managing.

The Other Path

I sat on the couch for days, completely burnt out and wondering what I was doing with my life. Wallowing in my own misery and self loathing, I tried to figure out how I got to this point. How did I find myself in a state of such intense misery, when I had everything going for me. I had an education, wonderful family, amazing friends and a future of possibilities in front of me.

Except, I didn’t.

Oh there were possibilities - but each of them leading down the exact same path.


Which school board do I want to teach in?


Primary, or junior?


What about specializing?

And I love teaching, I do. I really, really do.

But as I sat there that dreary spring day, I realised that I needed more. I realised that the possibilities terrified me.

So I ran.

..Well, to be fair - I flew.

Across the ocean, over six thousand kilometres. To a country where I didn’t speak the language, and had no idea what I was getting myself into. Where I looked after three of the craziest (yet almost lovable) children you could ever meet. A place where I drank wine that was worth more money then I made.  Where I skied in the Alps,  splashed in oceans, and saw more churches then you could ever begin to count. I danced in the cobblestone streets, ate good food that tickled my tongue with happiness and made some of the best friends I’ve ever had. I travelled at every given chance, and laughed and smiled from a place deep within my soul that I’d never found before.

I lived, laughed and was happy - For an entire year.

It was a quiet little café on one of my travels where this detour got to me. Travelling to five countries in two weeks on your own - it can get you down when you stop to think about it. The exhaustion, the loneliness, the wariness from creepy men trying to be your friend because you’re a girl and you’re alone...It eats away at you if you’re not careful.

So I dumped my purse upside down, and out rolled a bunch of coins. I listened to them clink their way into the payphone and called home, needing to hear a familiar voice.

It was then that I knew this little game had to end sometime. That eventually, real life would call me back.

I couldn’t play about forever - at some point I knew I would have to give in, and grow up.

But it was during that conversation that I realised that growing up doesn’t have to mean taking the same path as everyone else. It doesn’t mean that you have to do what people expect of you or that you have to give up anything.

It was then that I decided that growing up actually meant finding what you love, and doing it.

So I came home and I listened to at least half a million questions, asking where I was teaching - and gave out at least half a million answers of Actually, I’ve decided I want to take over the family farm instead...as their mouths dropped in disbelief.

But I’m happy.

Really, truly, actually happy.

I’m doing something that I love, and it makes me a better person. It makes me want to be an even better person then I am when I’m a better person.

So sometimes..sometimes it’s the detours in life that show you the path you were meant to be on all along.

..Even if you had to take the long way to get there.





-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Task: Write about a time in your life that you took a detour

Oh Mr. Sun

Dear Daylight Savings Time,

I know we do this every year, but honestly - this whole time changing thing - it messes with my head and makes me think I hate you.

This year was worse then normal it seemed - between being a stress ball thanks to work and life - and then not being able to fall asleep - and then having to get up early? Well, let's just say that it's lucky you're still alive - because I was feeling mighty stabby.

Contrary to what it may seem like in this short little note, and what the bags under my eyes are telling you - I don't actually hate you. Yes, it's true. Despite feeling like I could sleep for a week - I'm actually feeling better then I have in a long time...and it's all thanks to you.

Because you see, it's 6pm. It's SIX PM AND THERE IS STILL SUNSHINE OUTSIDE.

Which makes me smile so big it hurts.

I need sunshine.

I crave sunshine.

It makes me feel whole again.

So, you're forgiven - because I'm way too happy dancing and skipping about in the sun pouring through my windows to be mad at ANYONE - let alone mad at YOU who brought me these glorious longer days.

That is until fall comes and you rip it from my heart and disappoint me again.

Then I'm totally breaking up with you and taking you for all you've got. All the sunshine, that is.

The Summer Harvest

Each summer is the same on our farm. We eagerly await for the season to begin, but it never truly begins until July, for July is the month when the corn ripens. The strawberries are sweet, the peas pop, the raspberry seeds get stuck in your teeth - but it just doesn't feel like summer until the corn has ripened. 

Before dinner, the water goes on to the stove to boil, and it is then that my Dad and I go hunting. Walking out into the fields, we look for the mature cobs. Grabbing the thick green stalk I rip off one, and pull back the layers where I can sink my teeth in for that first glorious bite. The kernels pop in my mouth and I savour the sweetness hitting each taste bud. 

Tossing the cob for the dog to enjoy, we grab a few more - from this row and that. A selection of different kinds - a meal in itself, fit for kings.

By the time we get back, the water is boiling - eagerly awaiting its own part of the process. 

As I peel back the husk, I can hardly stand the anticipation of wondering what each different cob will taste like. 

From the grill, they call out "three minutes" and I know that's my cue - I grab the cobs, and gently toss them into the boiling water. 

Minutes later, as I take them out of the still boiling pot, I can feel the eyes watching me. Everyone has gathered in the kitchen to see what the fields have offered us tonight. As I move to take the plate with its steaming cobs to the table, I wonder what Pavlov would think of us all.

We sit down on the verge of salivating - each eying the plate. Who will take the yellow cob? The white one? The short one? The fat one? 

We manage to contain ourselves as our plates are filled with the bounty of the farms harvest, each adding a delectable cob to our plate. As the butter seeps into the deep, delicious kernels, someone takes their first bite. The look on their face says it all as pure, unadulterated pleasure washes over them.

Unable to stand it, the rest of the food is forgotten and we dig in with unusual vigor. It is then that we seem to be transported to another world where the sweet from the corn and salt from the butter mixes into a little piece of heaven. Have a bite of this one, someone says You HAVE to try this one, says another - and so it begins - the taste test. Comments fly around the table like gossip in a highschool; I like the flavour of this one, the sweetness of that one, the texture of the yellow one - as cobs are passed with smiles from one pair of sticky, buttery fingers to another. 

And that is how every year I know that we are deliciously deep into the bounty of the harvest, all over again. 

-------------------------------------------------------
From TRDC: This week's prompt asked us to describe your favorite fruit or vegetable: the first time you tasted it, where it came from, where you were, what memories it brings.

I wasn't planning on writing for this topic - I was just too busy, and didn't have the time. Alas, my mind had other plans for me - and I laid in bed tossing and turning until I finally got up and wrote this down. For some reason, my mind wouldn't let me go to bed until I wrote down the first thing that popped into my mind when I read this prompt tonight. So, there you have it...and now, now I am going to sleep - dreaming of all of the wonders of the season that is quickly descending upon us!

And So..

I have a love/hate relationship with the news.

I love being informed. I love knowing what's happening in the world. I love learning about things.

I read the news on a regular basis. It's one of my favourite apps on my phone. I watch the news every night, it's just a part of my daily routine. I like to be informed. I like to know what's going on - and while I can't read everything, know everything - I usually have a pretty good idea of what's going on in the area, in my country and around the world - even if I don't spend EONS reading the news.

That being said - it depresses the hell outta me.

I sit here reading the news, and it hurts my heart. It makes my heart ache for all of the suffering, for all of the bad.

I actively go out of my way to learn new things and find the news stories that AREN'T full of sad depressing things.

But when something on such a catostrophic scale as Japan happens?

I'm glued.

I can't stop watching, and I can't stop crying.

For all of those people.

For all of the suffering.

For all of the pain, the heartache, the sadness.

I try to go about my life. I try to pretend that things are okay. That this doesn't bother me.

But I can't stop staring at the computer screen, the tv screen, the newspaper.

Images and words haunt my mind.

I wonder if this is what they`re TELLING people - what AREN`T they telling people.

I wonder how anyone has survived something that looks too much like a movie to possibly be true.

I wonder how people will continue to survive. Without resources. Without basic necessities.

Sending every ounce of EVERYTHING into the universe that I have, in hopes that maybe, just maybe, it may do something.

I sit here, praying to everything and anything - for the best.

But I fear the worst.

I fear starvation, I fear cholera, I fear radiation leaks - and on and on.

There are so many things I fear - when there is already so much pain, suffering, turmoil and devastation.

I go to bed crying. And hating the world. Even more then normal. Even more then on the days where I read the news and hear of devastation of all different kinds, and it hurts - because you are completely helpless - and the world is a big, scary, mean place.

But something of this magnitude?

It's just a constant slap in the face reminder of all of the heartbreak and pain magnified in epic proportions.

And so..I weep.

I Am Slowly Going Crazy...1 2 3 4 5 6 ...Switch. Crazy Going Slowly Am I...6 5 4 3 2 1 SWITCH!

I've been feeling very stressed and anxious lately.

To the point where I see emails, and I don't even want to open them because I know that they're just going to add to EVERYTHING. I'm bad at procrastinating, I'm work under pressure - but this is getting a little bit nuts - even for me.

I just feel like things are barely holding together, and it's all my fault. Like I can't get things organized or whatever - and I don't even know why..it's just my brain.

There are so many things that I have to do..and I just can't even start. They're overwhelming, over powering, just..feel like I'm lost at sea and have forgotten how to swim.

So I came upstairs to my room because I was panicking and just needed to not freak out anymore. Or rather, just freak out on my own - without anyone watching me or knowing that I was a having a freak out. 'Cause you know, BLABBING it all over the internet - that's one thing - crying and having to talk about it in person - that's a COMPLETELY DIFFERENT THING.

So I'm sitting here wondering what the heck I'm doing with my life and wondering why I'm such a giant screwup  - when suddenly movement in my laundry catches my eye - and I just start SCREAMING. Like, don't even rationally think about it or even LOOK. Just..gut reaction - SCREAM.

And then I realise that it's just my cat, stretching as he sleeps in my laundry.

And he just gives me this look like - WHAT is *WRONG* with you LADY and proceeds to look like me like I'm crazy. And while I just MAY be - he's the one sleeping in laundry. When my bed is RIGHT here. WHO IS CRAZY NOW, CAT.

Sooo....uhhh.....I'm a little bit wound up it seems. Which is just a nice way of saying 'HOLY COW CRAZY LADY'

And on that note, I'm going to go and get some much needed rest. Doh.

I Love You, Forever.

So.

I don't know if you know this..

But I am THE. WORLDS. FUNNIEST. PERSON. EVER.

Actually.

The Babe has decided this, and it becomes more apparent the older he gets.

I walk in the door and it's automatic smiles and HUGE laughs.

He hears my voice and starts babbling and laughing away.

It is my favourite thing in the WORLD to just sit with him and make him laugh.

To cover our heads up in a makeshift blanket tent.To blow raspberries on his neck. To pretend that his toys are mine.

All things that throw him into FITS of laughter.

If I play peek-a-boo? I'm basically trying to kill him with laughter.

Using other voices, talking with puppets or just bouncing around the house throws him for fits of laughter.

Don't even get me started on when we play with TOYS. Oh the HUMANITY.

So we sing.

We dance.

We giggle.

And then we laugh until we can laugh no more.

I am seriously so happy when I'm around him...he just makes my life so happy and so full of love.

I cannot believe how lucky I am to be able to watch this beautiful little boy grow up.

As much as I'm excited for him to grow up - I'm quite content to lie on the floor being one of his favourite people, trying to convince myself that he'll love me this deeply, this unconditionally, so whole-heartedly - forever.

And to keep him at the age where I'm the FUNNIEST! PERSON! EVER!

Although after a certain amount of questioning, I'm starting to wondering if his automatic response to laughing at me is because I'm awesome and funny - or if he just thinks I'm FUNNY LOOKING.

 On second thought, yeah, I'm TOTALLY on to that kid. And on ANOTHER second thought - he's totally growing up WAY too fast. 

Life Ponderings

Most days...I don't feel as though I'm really any older than I was 3, 4 or 5 years ago.

But when I look around me...I start to get anxious. Anxious because everyone seems to be growing up. Well - everyone except ME that is. Me? Well, I'm just sitting here..watching them go about doing their grown up things.

I mean sure, I did the school thing.

Five years and two degrees later...I've been there, done that.

Did a little bit of that travelling thing too.

As the Germans say...Wonderbar.

But I'm not in any sort of a relationship - let alone a serious one. I'm not engaged, getting married, having children, buying houses or decorating them. I don't think much about RRSP's or climbing the ladder in my job field, paving my driveway or insurance premiums. light fixtures, diamond shapes and six figure salaries don't keep me awake at night.

It's just not my thing right now. I'm not there...I (gasp) don't..care.

So in that respect, I'm not even pretending to play grown-up.

But everyone around me seems to be.

Babies. Weddings. Engagements. Houses. BIG! GROWNUP! THINGS!

All around me, people are playing grownup - to every degree on the spectrum of grownup. From houses, to babies to marriages - even my LITTLE BROTHER is getting married and owns his own home.

It's just so surreal - to watch people do all of these things that I just feel are way too old for me. I'm not there, and I'm rather okay with that. Usually.

Sometimes though, I just feel like I'm standing on the sidelines, watching people do things and I get caught up and I'm like...ooo...I want that TOO! And then I get all blah and jealous - until I realize that I don't ACTUALLY want that right now. And I know I don't because there are so many other things that I really DO want to do...but because (practically) EVERYONE around me seems to be playing the 'I'm a grownup' game...I'm like..OH HEY BANDWAGON! LET ME JUMP ON TOO! WAIT WAIT WAIT FOR ME!

When in actuality - I'm quite content with my life right now...even if it does sometimes mean that I'm feeling like a misfit in comparison to the other 20-somethings in my immediate surroundings.

It's just bizarre to watch people all around you do these grownup things when you don't feel nearly old enough or as though you have nearly enough life experience to do ANY of those things. When you can't imagine paying property taxes, are really bad at remembering to take care of yourself - let alone another little human being, and you just want to enjoy being a carefree 20-something. I sometimes feel like I'm wandering around lost - and no one gets it..because they're all playing the game.

And it's not that I'm playing. Despite my best efforts, I AM getting older. I'm doing more grownup things..and I'd like to believe that I may be a little bit more mature than I was a few years ago. I just feel like I myself am (personally) too young to do most of these things. I'm twenty five! Why does society make me feel like I should be doing these things? I have plenty of years for car payments, mortgages, babies and weddings...right?

At least that's what I keep telling myself so I don't feel quite so pathetic about my life these days.

It's difficult because it feels as though the vast majority of people around me right now are at that point in at least some way or another - jobs, serious relationships, husbands and wives, babies, mortages and all of that jazz - and it's hard to explain to them what's going on in my head. They just don't get it - because they're not sitting in my shoes - just like I don't really get what they're going through - because I'm not in their shoes. It's not that I don't love them dearly, and it's not that I don't want them in my life. I love them of course..but it's just odd to feel like you don't really FIT right. Like you've put on a new shirt and the tag is scratching at your neck and it's just not comfy and you can't quite put your finger on why.

Anywho - I'm sure it's just my mind playing tricks on me as I'm pretty sure that the older I get..the more people look like they have everything figured out - but the more I'm pretty convincd that NO ONE has ANYTHING figured out.

For now I'll go back to watching on the sidelines as all of the lovely people in my life play grown-up as I play "I'matwentysomethingthatstillhasnoideawhattheheckshe'sdoingwithherlife" and pretend not to care that everyone else is giving off the impression that they've figured "it" out (whatever IT is).

Sounds like a plan to me.

Bubbles & Dreams

But I don’t wanna go I claimed as my parents and my little brother were getting ready to go for an after-dinner-walk.

I played the part of being grumpy miserable child. I moaned that they couldn’t make me go, I was too tired, I didn’t want to - so they let me stay behind.

As soon as the door was shut, I sprang into action and ran to get started.

I didn’t like cleaning - but I had a plan. A plan that I thought it would make everything better. If I could get things around the house cleaned up before they returned from their walk, I could fix it. If I could clean up the dishes and sweep the floors I thought that maybe my parents would stop fighting so much. I thought that maybe my mom would stop crying so much. I thought that maybe, just maybe, if I was a better kid - it’d all be okay.

I remember pulling an apron around myself and tying it clumsily with my childish chubby fingers. I pushed a chair from the dining room, scraping it along the worn floor and climbed up onto it.  Filling the sink full of hot water and bubbles I eagerly scrubbed dish after dish - wishing and dreaming that my plan would work. If I could just take care of these things, the people I love - if I just tried harder - then everything would be okay.

I saw them out of the corner of my eye through the kitchen window.

Laughing.

Talking.

Sharing smiles.

Picking an apple off of the tree.

I did it! I’ve fixed it! It REALLY worked I thought smugly to myself as they continued on their walk.

Everything had to be okay now I thought as I sighed a sigh of relief. I could make everything better, if I just tried hard enough. If I just was better. If I was just able to take care of everything and everyone - everything would work out and we would never be sad again - thought the naive, blue eyed, blonde haired six year old girl covered in bubbles and dreams.


----------------------------------------------------

I decided to try something new..and link up with the Red Dress Club. This is what came out.




Assignment: When meeting someone for the first time, describe a scene from your life that would help show the person your true self.

Europe-Sick

Last week I had the most epic of epic chats with a friend. A mutual friend who I had met through another friend, who decided to take a year off school to go to Switzerland to work as a nanny.

We had only met each other a few times, but one night she wrote on facebook that she was moving to Switzerland and I jokingly posted "OMG! I'M SO JEALOUS! TAKE ME WITH YOU!"

...and then she did.

Well. Kind of. She sent me the application and the website and was like "DUDE. COME WITH."

And I was like...uhh..I got nothing else to do. mmmkay.

Which is basically how two months later I ended up living in a foreign country.

Having random adventures like the time I ended up swimming beside a castle, and then somehow LOST my shirt. The shirt I was wearing. Yeah. Don't ask. I had another in my purse (What. You don't keep an extra shirt in your purse?!) I miss the drama and the laughter and the random ridiculous adventures!

I got a little bit Europe-sick.

I miss the food.

I miss the people.

I miss going to the train station just to see what country I could go to that weekend - do I want take a train to Italy? Austria? France? Germany? Where do I want to go this weekend? What did I feel like doing/seeing/exploring. One day, we got up on a lazy weekend off - and just jetted to Liechtenstein. For the hell of it. A small train ride there - and ta-da - we were in a completely new country. For no other reason then we wanted to.

I miss traveling.

I miss new cities.

I miss the views.

I miss self portraits infront of random things.

I miss moments like these:

Cadiz, Spain

Vienna, Austria

Irish Coast

Marissa & I up to our usual shenanigans - Sitting on the banks of Lake Zurich
Drinking litchi wine before going to our fave wine bar in the city <3

I have so many photos I could sift through, dozens of glorious cities, so many amazing countries, so so SO many stories - all wrapped up into a year of awesome. I should really post more of those pictures and more of those stories. Alas, for now - all you got was photos of me blocking the beautiful views..suckas!

The Flabbergasting Farmer

During the conference a couple of weeks ago, I met a lot of farmers. Being a fruit and vegetable convention - I guess this makes sense. Now, a lot of people think of farmers as being hicks. They like to shoot things, they drink beer and they don't know a whole lot of anything.

I'm sure that this happens, I'm sure that there are people that make these stereotypes exist. In fact, I'm sure that even though I know a lot of farmers, and I kinda AM a farmer - I still half heartedly believed in some of these. I saw a farmer once see 'Gucci' written and go "Ha. Why in the world would ya name something guc-ky --- sounds way too much like yucky for me to even think about wanting to go see what kinda things they got there"

In complete and utter seriousness.

So I understand why these stereotypes exist.

But these farmers I met that week?

Yeah. No. Basically the exact opposite of any stereotype you would ever think of. (Well, except knowing of brand names - this is still a little over their heads...)

They work hard, they read the newspaper each morning and they know more about science, weather patterns, and how to deal with customer service then most. They wear a million different hats, without even thinking about it. They go from grower, to harvester, to mechanic, to scientist, to retail salesperson - all within the course of a day. It's a job that's harder then anyone could imagine. One that EVERYONE relies on - well, anyone that eats - that is. They provide an essential service - while working 12-16 hour days, and then some. And are compensated in mere pennies for their labour - most making far less then minimum wage or having to work other jobs to keep farming. They don't do it for the pay cheque, the big bucks or the noterity. They do it because they LOVE it, because they're passionate about it, they believe in what they're doing.

I met farmers from big cities, from small towns and from, quite frankly - the middle of nowhere.

We talked about politics, about travel, about the world. We talked about bugs, plants and soil. For crying out loud - we even about how pathetic Lindsay Lohan is for a brief moment. In short - I had some of the most interesting and engaging conversations that I've had in a long time...from the most unexpected sources.

From people who weren't fancy, or even very educated in a traditional sense. Their clothes were worn. Their fingers calloused and rough. Their skin, aged from the weather and hard work.

Most were quiet, listening patiently before beginning their turn to be involved in the conversation.

They thought before they spoke - and they had done a lot of learning and living before that.

They made points that were so forward thinking and aware of the world around them - that it was almost impossible to not stare in disbelief.

They were the furthest thing from a hick, from a redneck, from someone who is just playing around at farming.

They are hardworking, dedicated, passionate people who know a whole lot more then most.

They're the people who are putting food on your plate, everyday.

So that week? That week I learned that you can't judge a book by its cover...

..Even if said book has no idea what Gucci is.

One Year

It has been one year this week, since I was the rudest I have ever been in my life.

It has been one year this week, since I was called the worst words you can imagine.

It has been one year this week, since I wrote off certain family members.

It has been one year this week, since I've cried more then I have ever cried.

It has been one year this week, since I screamed at the top of my lungs in absolute pure rage. 

It has been one year today, since I drove to the hospital at 3am

It has been one year today, since I last held his hand.

It has been one year today, since I cried inconsolably.

It has been one year today, since I watched him take his last breath

It has been one year today, since I said goodbye to my grandfather...

And I'm still not over it. I'm still angry. I'm still sad.

It's better. I'm better. We're better. But it's still not okay. To be honest - I don't know if I will ever actually heal from this. If I will ever be able to trust people the same way again. If I will ever be able to believe whole heartedly in the goodness of people again. Certain people have robbed that from me, and shown me the dark side of humanity.

It has been one year since I went in to that hospital, wishing for a miracle, wishing for the best.

And one year since I came out wondering if there is any such thing.

Games Are Awesome. Like Me. That's Why I Like Them So Much.

So. Let's play a game.

Here's how it goes.

You tell me things in my life that you'd like to see a photo/photos of.

People, places, things. Silly, funny, serious, ridiculous - I don't really care.

Then, I go out into my little world and take silly, funny, serious and ridiculous photos.

Of whatever you want.

Wanna know what my favourite chinese food restaurant looks like?

Want to take a tour of my neighourhood?

Want to know where I brush my teeth?

Want to see the latest book I'm reading?

The sunset from my house?

Or, do want to see my cousins collection of disgusting animal bits he collects while being a vet?

All you've got to do is ask, and I'll do it. Well..within reason. Albeit a fairly large region of reason. And I'm sure you guys out there can come up with WAY better questions then those.

So - I'll then post the photos I take, give a little shout-out to you on this AMAZING blog (Stop. Laughing.) with your SUPER AWESOME QUESTION - ANNNND...I'll love you forever.

Yeah. FREAKIN' AWESOME EH?!

(Wow. I was so Canadian in that last sentence.)

So. Shoot. But not with a gun. With questions.

GO GO GO GO GO!

I promise, you won't be disappointed. I can already feel the hilarity that is about to descend upon my life.

The Dog Who Is Obsessed With Feet. She's Kind Of Like Ariel. Except not. At All.

This dog be crazy.

I get it - puppies will be puppies - BUT WHY DO PUPPIES HAVE TO SHOW THEIR LOVE IN THE FORM OF EATING MY SHOES?!

Please see exhibits A through J for reference:

A - Poor little cute flipflop

B - These were the most comfortable flipflops EVER. Sadface.

 C - Once upon a time, that strap was actually attached  to the other side of this shoe..

Okay. So that was only A, B & C - but I've either thrown out the rest of the evidence or it's too painful to show, because they're not just cheap flip flops and are shoes that I actually had a deep, meaningful relationship with. Sigh.

Oh - and beware - apparently she's doesn't discriminate - this sneaky one isn't just out for shoes - she'll take anything that's been on a stinky foot. Not that my feet are stinky - but feet generally as a rule are pretty bleh and ew.

At least she hasn't eat my REALLY good shoes. But that's probably because I keep all heels/boots/shoes-that-cost-me-over-$20 in the closet in my room. Far far away from the prying teeth of puppies.

So now, spring is in the air and she's eaten five pairs of my favourite flipflops from last season. Double sad face.

Sooooo - who's up for some shopping?!  ;)

Fart Jokes > Boys

There is a boy who I have been in a little bit in love (in like?) with for the better part of a decade.

Actually - for at least a decade now.

He's sweet, kind and one of my best friends..ever.

He also has the ability to run his mouth, to tell it like it is and to put someone in his place. He follows the news and is invested in making the world a better place. He laughs and dances like a fool to punk bands you've probably never heard of. He digs through records from peoples basements and throws parties where he plays vinyl for fun. He isn't afraid of what people think of him, like HONESTLY doesn't even care a little bit - he does whatever it is he wants or needs to do for him - but in the same breathe - would go to the ends of the earth for the select people he really does care about.

Even though I've skirted around the subject for years, I've never told my girlfriends how much I actually do value and cherish him - although I'm pretty sure they've figured it out - smart ones they are - one friend a couple of years even went as far to sigh and tell me she wished we'd just "shutup, kiss and have babies already" while we were chatting about him.

Alas - we would never work as a couple. I know this. On TOP of that - I would be far too terrified to ever even contemplate a relationship with him, because it would break my heart to ever lose him.

Which is a stupid reason - but also an important one.

Still though, I dream of finding a boy like him.

In the same breath though, every boy who I date, or even contemplate dating - I sort of use him as a way to measure their quality. Some are so far away that they don't even get a second glance - there are immediate deal breakers that I know I couldn't be okay with - so what's the point? Others, come closer - some even get really close to being what I want - but then other deal breakers arise, and I float back to wondering if a nice, decent perfect boy is out there for me - somewhere.

One who knows how to make me smile - and who I can make smile. One who knows how to get me to push my limits to get me to do the things I want to do and get the things I want out of life - but knows how much I can handle and doesn't push TOO much. One that can laugh - at life, at jokes, at himself. One who works hard, has a good work ethic - and never gives up. One who will tease me about stereotypical things that I do - but will go along with it, just because I'm me. One who will travel. One who does things just to cheer me up.* One that doesn't have to be fancy, but cleans up well when he needs to. One that gets what I'm thinking and understands where I'm coming from. One that loves his mama and honestly cares about his family, even if they do drive him a little bit crazy. One that makes me want to be a better person, but is perfectly happy with the person I am.

I know I'm picky. I know that finding ALL of these things may very well be impossible. But I haven't found anyone who even REALLY comes close to what I want or the expectations I have in my search for the "perfect" boy for me, yet. The question of settling has been one that has arose quite a few times lately, and I wonder if giving up one, some or any of these things is necessary. I wonder if I'm just not looking hard enough, long enough, in the right places, or if the problem is that I'm looking TOO hard. Or if I'm just torturing myself by putting these ridiculous "high" expectations on who I chose to keep in my life.

But then I realise that I don't want to settle. I don't want to give up any of these things, because these are the things that compose happiness for me, and really - are any of these things too much to ask?

Especially when it's your entire future that is on the line?

Ugh. Growing up is far too complicated for my liking.

Boys make my brain hurt.

So on that note - if you need me, I'll be hanging out at the jungle gym with the cool kids telling fart jokes.









*He and a couple other guys I went to highschool with got together and wrote me a storybook (with hand drawn photos) one day after school because I was feeling down. And then got my best girlfriend to hide it in my locker for me to find when I least expected it and was having a horrible-rotten-no-good-very-bad-week. Which is basically the CUTEST THING EVER. Yeah.