Perhaps Happiness and Heartbreak

Perhaps happiness and heartbreak happen. Always. Together, or in ravaging separations.

This little suite I call home is full of loneliness and love. I will miss nights, second-hand sheets and pasta covered in cheese. Putting on a blazer and pretending to be the sort of person who carries business cards. Falling asleep on the couch to the sound of you struggling with a paper.

That's still away, I know. So this summer I'll lie in your arms in a yellow school bus, it's smell reminiscent of street Spanish and truck stops. And I'll sleep here by myself, on my side. cradling a new life growing inside.

It will be happiness and heartbreak. And maybe both together.

((Creotiv))

I'm not particularly fond of new years resolutions. Kind of hit and miss, depending on the circumstances. I do, however, like to use the new year for a little bit of introspection. This year, however, I haven't had the chance 'till now. I was tucked away at a refreshing winter camp. Then I was rushing home to rush through packing to rush back here to this mini-city. And, now, in the dying minutes of the third day of the new year, I want to think about the year past. I'm not particularly fond of memes, either. But every now and then I find one that's worth it.

What was 2011 for you?

1. What did you do in 2011 that you’d never done before?

I travelled north into the territories.

I learned to rock climb, ice climb, and I repelled off a bridge.

I went to regular full-time class for a full semester.

I was part of a quality music recording.

I volunteered at a camp.

I made gnocchi.

2. Did you keep your new year’s resolutions, and will you make more for next year?

There were none, but I knocked a few off my 101. There won't be any this year, either.

3. Did anyone close to you give birth?

Yes, Jenni had another beautiful baby girl. One of my best friends and closest relatives is also due very soon!

4. Did anyone close to you die?

No. A plight I've mostly been saved from so far in my young life.

5. What countries did you visit?

The US of A. 2011, you have not been a good travelling year...

6. What would you like to have had in 2011 that you lacked in 2010?

A fulfilling job. And, in a sense, I did. But it was part time writing and other freelancing. The full time stuff was duller than dishwater.

7. What dates from 2010 will remain etched upon your memory and why?

Actual dates? Sitting through the night listening to hippis play guitar, sing French folk songs, and dance around the fire, and tentatively holding hands. It will be remembered fondly.

8. What was your biggest achievement of the year?

Four A+s, and an A, mastering freelance, and learning to love.

9. What was your biggest failure?

Breaking a heart, not maintaining all the right friendships, working through summer.

10. Did you suffer illness or injury?

Nothing serious. 

11. What was the best thing you bought?

The very best? Perhaps my motorbike... Good times were had!

12. Whose behaviour merited celebration?

My siblings. All of them. I wish I could tell you how each has grown. How they've supported me. How I've loved them, even though we may fight on occasion.

13. Whose behaviour made you appalled and depressed?

There was some unfortunate summer drama. I made some poor decisions. And I've also been disappointed by a past room mate/best friend. Why do good things end?

14. Where did most of your money go?

School. And associated expenses. Blech.

15. What did you get really, really, really excited about?

University. And a boy. Silly boys.

16. What song will always remind of you 2011?

You want the unfortunate confession one? No Getting Over You... That one with LMFAO, Fergie, and all those other pop stars. 2011, though, has been a marvellous year for music. 

17. Compared to this time last year, are:

a)happier or sadder? Happier

b)thinner or fatter? Thinner, I think

c) richer or poorer? Close to even... But soon to be much poorer.

18. What do you wish you’d done more of?

Travelling. 

19. What do you wish you’d done less of?

Working at my first-half job.

20. Did you fall in love in 2010?

Yes. Yes, I did. I freaks me out, and makes me excited-happy all at once!

21. What was your favourite TV program?

Big Bang Theory. I've never watched a single episode... But I'm pretty sure I think it's hilarious.

22. Do you hate anyone now that you didn’t hate this time last year?

Hate... It's a strong strong word. No one comes to mind, so I don't believe so.

23. What was the best book you read?

2011 was a poor year for reading. To many I meant to read, and not enough that I actually did.

24. What was your greatest musical discovery?

Elllie Goulding, Florence and the Machine, Adele, Lindsey Stirling. Looks like my tastes are taking a feminine twist... How odd.

25. What did you want and get?

I wanted to leave my job and try something new. I wanted a solid relationship. 

26. What did you want and not get?

I wanted to travel. I wanted to snowboard more than I did. My wants didn't happen, but they were twisted and exceeded.

27. What was your favourite film of this year?

I watch very few movies... And it takes a lot to really impress me... Tangled was good ;).

28. What did you do on your birthday, and how old were you?

I turned 25. Somehow it phased me much less than 24. I entered it dancing in a barn loft with good people. I worked, another first ever, but briefly. And I got a stack of letters from the people I care for that I promised not to open until I turn 50.

29. How you would describe your personal fashion concept in 2011?

Increasingly athletic and tomboy, but I don't shy away from the feminine things I like. More make-up this year than ever before, which isn't saying much. Longer hair than since I graduated. Some kick-ass boots. Oh, and fake glasses everyday to school... Something has to help maintain those grades.

30. What kept you sane?

My family. Oh, and chocolate.

31. Which celebrity/public figure did you fancy the most?

I believe last year was Channing Tatum... This year there was no replacement. I like to stay firmly in reality...

32. Who did you miss?

All sorts of people. Friends who's lives were part of mine, but who have moved on.

33. Who was the best new person you met?

My blue-eyed boy. We met on a hotsprings roadtrip early on but didn't get to know each other until summer months and carefree days.

34. Tell us a valuable life lesson you learned in 2010.

Compromising because you damn well want to isn't usually worth it.

35. Quote a song lyric that sums up your year.

One lyric? I think not...

I picked this up on Lexi's blog. She doesn't know I exist, but I very highly recommend you visit.

Wrapped in Fleece

I'm lying on the floor. On the edge of the carpet. Wrapped in fleece. Trying to sleep. Except that I'm really actually looking at the footprints in the dust on the hardwood that blew through the open window. That I'm really listening to "Bookends" without really listening at all. Because acoustic guitar is just part of the background. Because that's just where I'm from.

And I'm writing this down on the space that's my mind. And aware of my breath and the things that unwind. Listening to "Blue Jean Blues" without really listening. Because that's just the way I am.

Needing this place. Some time just to breathe. A break from the best and a place for my dreams. Listening to "Old Love" without really listening. Because that's just where I'm at. Needing to be alone, wrapped in fleece and trying to sleep.

Wishing you were here.

Lonely Again

My room mate is leaving tomorrow and I'd be lying if I said I'm not even a little bit sad.

(Aly-Wan)

Not because she's the best room mate I've ever had.  She's not.  Not because we spent a lot of time together.  We didn't.  I alternate between sadness and very glad that never again will she eat all my food when I'm not looking.  Never again will I have to listen to her boyfriend and her at 2:00 AM through cardboard walls.  Never again will all the dishes and the salt shaker end up in a pile on her bedroom floor.  Never again will she leave the toilet paper empty and the lights all on.  Never again will....  Umm...  That's it actually.  She's a beautiful (and incredibly hot) seventeen year old who's sweet and mostly pretty considerate.

She makes me want to mother her.  Not to worry.  I never treated her as anything but an adult.

I'm also kind of excited for her.  Because she's excited with the excitement of a seventeen year old who's never headed out on her own.  And I'm a little bit jealous because she's going on a road trip with the boy she loves to plans she's optimistically thrilled about.

Oh, to be seventeen again...

But I'm sad.  Because I'm not nearly as optimistic as she is.  Because we'll never eat popsicles for breakfast and talk about travel plans together again.  Because I never met her brother, never saw her step-dad's straw house construction, never talked to her about things I think are most important.  She taught me I'm not quite as confrontational as I think I am.  Especially with someone I don't know and wish I did.

And I'm selfishly sad.  Because I know in two weeks I'll be talking to myself again.  I'll be sitting on my couch eating a meal I cooked for myself.  I'll realize I'm more comfortable if I know someone else will come home.  Or that, even if she rarely emerges, there's someone else in my other room.  And I'll realize How much I don't like living alone.

Seventeen 'Till I Die

Today my room mate turned seventeen.  I told her, as I always tell people who turn that age, that seventeen is the best year.  In my mind I could fairly happily stay seventeen forever.  But why?

(xCoffeeAddict)

It was actually a pretty crappy year.  I was lacking direction and fought to no end with the school I'd chosen to graduate with.  This ended in tears and the principals office.  As well as fantasies of judo-throwing her incompetent self through the floor (she got fired the next year, and had been shuffled around repeatedly because she can't do her job).

I got kicked out of home.  It didn't last long, but was something of a reflection of my family situation in general.  I never got pregnant, did drugs or assorted rebel behaviour.  My parents just didn't get down with my lack of respect for imposed authority.

I spent three assorted months house sitting.  Nothing seemed more magical then a place to myself.

I questioned the beliefs I was raised with late at night, realizing they'd have to become mine, and not sure if they could.

I built.  Houses, with my Dad.

I passed my road test and took to driving like I was made for it.

I dedicated myself to judo, and subsequently reached my peak.

I struggled to establish a social group after the six month trip earlier that year threw a massive friggin' wrench in the one I was supposed to have.

For whatever reason, all that compiled into a belief that seventeen is independence, freedom and life more abundantly.

In the month before I turned eighteen I bought my own little car that I learned to love.  I also graduated, put a down payment on a place, moved out and got a full time permanent job.

Maybe it's just that I never much cared for being an adult.

I Like Boys Who Wear Bandannas

It seems as though I think it's hot every time I see a guy rocking a bandanna.  At least in real life.  But I didn't just say that.  

Well researching this topic I discovered that online I can't like boys in bandannas.  First of all, "research" means, of course, that I was lurking Google images and Deviant Art looking for good looking males wearing bandannas.  Imagine my chagrin when I realized there were so many bad pictures of said topic, and virtually none worth showing my readers.

The idea started when I was watching this music video on Youtube.

Of course I soon remembered that I can't possibly admit to watching this band even if it's because it has this guy and I'm checking out this wrist bandanna.  I then started to think about how I could list off all the super cool ways of wearing them.  It wasn't long before I realized that I can't really do it without sounding like a douche.

I can't do it without sounding like some degree of hippi, redneck, punk or emo (whether or not I am has yet to be seen...).  I'll sound like I like smelly old bikers, highly image-conscious jerks, wanksters or illegal skater kids (whether or not I do is quite well established.  Negative, thank-you very much).

(colinhill)

(loudxmusic)

So, on Because or Why Not I formally find guys in bandannas a very large turn-off.  I also would never consider wearing one myself.  Nope.  Bandannas are not hot.  Bandannas are, in fact, unattractive.

I won't let on that I have checked out young guys wearing bandannas the right way (no do-rags please!).  I also, without a doubt, believe that good looking young women should consider it a serious strike against their self esteem if they've even considered wearing one of these trashy accessories.

Unless I actually meet you.  Then, maybe, we can talk about bandannas another time...

Foreign Flavour

(Jahblessme)

I think I think I like you
'Cause I really think you're cute
You're sweet but you are edgy
Like you're trying to improve

You smile, hold the door,
but in every conversation
I'm really very certain
you swear without realization

You're genuinely thoughtful,
even when I know you're wasted
Like a new and foreign flavour
that I've never really tasted.

You wear death metal t-shirts.
Yeah, you seem a little shady,
but you really are exceptional
at helping out old ladies.

I think I think I like you,
and I know you think I'm hot.
So this may seem a little crazy...
I won't give us a shot.

This Entire Post is Borrowed

(ThatOnePhotographer)

I thought how unpleasant it is to be locked out; and I thought
how it is worse, perhaps, to be locked in.

A woman must have money and a room of her own if she is to write fiction.

-Virginia Woolf

Goodbye Autumn

(dorguska)

Yesterday is but a memory.
Tomorrow's just a dream.

Autumn Beats Me Up

(Source)

I know it's still the end of summer.  A season for freedom and carelessness and passion.  I know I was jumping from cliffs into beautifully fresh water this weekend.  Around this time we're usually melding into a beautiful Indian summer.  However, this year I've already tasted the crisp tang of fall.

The first emotion autumn brings me is an extreme urge to move on.  Summer's dying and I need to travel, quit my job... leave.  I need to learn, wander, wonder.  Time to work and move on and join autumn sports.  September is a learned habit to pack up, start school, travel, move.

Change.

And then, or at the same time, I start to want to settle down.  Cooling air makes me want fuzzy blankets and someone to share them with.  I want fall colours and cable stitch sweaters to wear with my bluejeans.  I want to make jam from our harvest, collect firewood, hunt and knit burnt orange touques to keep me warm through the winter cold.  I want an acreage and an orchard.  Some dark cool dirt to dig in and a fireplace to come inside to.

Settling in.

Here we can climb wooden ladders with laden canvas totes.  Gala, Honeycrisp, Delicious, Macintosh.  You better believe I can bake a mean pie.  I can milk a cow, make yogurt, cut meat to stock the freezer.  I've pressed juice, made pickles and dug potatoes.  This is where I'm from.

But I have a backpack by my bed.  And a tendency to search airline tickets when I'm supposed to be paying bills.  I have mind-stretching universities in my bookmarks and a tank full of gas that begs me to use it every time I drive to the edge of town.  Rusty Spanish that begs to be stretched out.  Energy to wear out on the ice, the judo mats, the ski hill.

Fall brings out both sides of my excess energy.  Estrogen and testosterone in a mad and endless clash. This fall neither will be much of an option.  I'll need my silly little side projects.  No month long road trips or beer in hostel basements.  No international markets, or no running my own local booth.  I'll be wearing out my fight in a dojo and wondering why I'm settling for middle ground.

Fragments of Friendships

They're memories of you. All of you. Sometimes I don't open the drawer for months. Other times I take them out five times in a single day. Pulling these close to my heart, brushing them with my lips. Clenching them in my fists or throwing them back and slamming the drawer.

Random pieces. I like life a little better when I forget they exist.

A homemade necklace. A charm that says “friends.” Yours said “forever,” of course. We were twelve and we knew it. This one is a broken heart. That's not what it meant at the time.

I hold it now and it remember the confusion of torn families I only observed. Whispers over the phone. And you disappearing one week without a goodbye. The strong decision your Mom needed to make. I still see your Dad sometimes. I'm glad you're free, and I trust you grew into a woman that would make your Mom proud. Confirm she made the right decision. I know more, now. Things I wasn't ready to understand when I was twelve. Things you probably weren't either, but had to. I'm sorry. I wish my two letters could've said more then that I missed you.

Where are you now? I don't know. I guess I never will. I searched your name on Facebook, but it's probably not what it was.  I still have that piece of pressed metal that says “friends.” That's what I'll remember you as.

A sand dollar. I was sixteen now, walking with you down an abandoned Mexican beach. I was so proud to call you my best friend. So sure you were cool, you convinced me that athletic teenage girls like us looked good in over sized t-shirts. We would wrestle, and I would win. I believe that you thought it would last forever. I trusted you.

At nineteen we lost touch, but I still have that sand dollar. I wrote letters, e-mails. I poured my heart out and scribbled in my notebook. Life did get in the way. Such different paths, you and I. We share the most important now, but it's not enough.

I'm sorry. I try to hard.

A pair of drumsticks. They say you'll love me forever. I almost believed that, too. Luckily I was jaded enough to question it all.

I know I held you at arms length for longer then you thought possible. But you were my best friend. A misjudgment, but I wish that part could have been true. I cried with you well you held me. I cried when I left. I stuck by you until I couldn't any more. It was too long, yet far too short.  How you could blindly cut me like that, I'll never know.

These drumsticks will never tell.

And you. You haunt my life more then any other with these reminders. We shared our childhood, our struggles and, finally, my home. Others came and went, but you were like my sister. My sister with communication skills that would never match mine. Is that where we went wrong? This crumpled stack of notes, letters, ramblings? This giant paper clip, teddy bear and a heart. How unlike us, then. You and I with our hitch hiking, our first time swearing, our baggy jeans. The times we shunned each other and our mutual respect.

And this last letter. The one where you asked me not to reply. The one I'll never understand.

I'm closing the drawer for now.  I've learned that others will be added, despite my greatest efforts and my learned reservations. I regret that it's still so damn worth it.

(photo source: Barcarola)

It Tastes Like You

It tastes like you.  The rush, the thrill, the novelty.  Pressing it to my lips.  The driftwood behind my back.  That endless lake, the setting sun, our handprints in the sand.

Salt tears and blood.  The tensity and an allergy.  The cold that I'll inhale.  Bruises and your hand at my waist.

Bandanas, denim and soft plaid shirts.  Mine and yours and maybe a mix.  Sweat beading at my neck before I lift my hair.  Leather cuffs and the tang of their metal buckles.

Daisies and a hard dirt trail.  Labatt beer, wild strawberries, foam and that photograph.  Dust.

It tastes like you.  I'll hold my breath and wait for the bitter aftertaste.

Bittersweet Buds

Tonight I picked lilacs in the dark.  Choosing the opening buds from the glow of a streetlight.  The tight snap of twigs and a fistful of branches.

I was filled with a panic.  Their faint smell calling me as I stepped from my car.  The season is gone so quickly.  Those shades of purple drying into soft browns.  The hedge that runs the length of my alley.

I needed to collect them in handfuls.  Rinse the mason jars in my cupboard and spread them around.  Bring them inside.  They remind me, every year, that time goes too fast.