NinjaBeth's encounters.

Male/Female Friendship

2011-06-28T23:59:00.003-06:00

Are male/female friendships possible? I am a believer that yes, they are possible. In a lot of cases, they can be totally beneficial to a relationship, as well. For example, there have been times in the past where I am so fed up with Chris and can't seem to understand why he won't do this, or that, or why he just can't see things the way I see them! So, I talk to a male friend about it, and they are able to offer up their opinion. While Chris's opinion totally matters, my emotions are wrapped up in him so deeply that it's hard for me to weigh his opinion with the credence that it deserves. However, a male friend's opinion gives me a chance to see things from a different perspective, simply because the issue I am having is not with him. Do you see what I mean? It's an eye-opener, to have that outsider's point of view. Of course, for the real big issues, there's no need to go outside of the relationship for other people's opinions. But for the little things, why not?

I have lost two really great friends over the past six months, both male, and both friendships slid very quickly downhill as soon as they acquired girlfriends. I am not trying to blame the girlfriends, but part of me can't help it. How is it that these friendships lasted 10+ years (each), but within 6 months of them being with their respective girlfriend, it all collapsed? Maybe I had my own part in this, but truthfully, I don't think I did. I gave my male friends space because since I am a girl, I know how girls are. They don't want some other girl coming into their territory and hanging out with their man. I befriended one of the girls (the other girl had no desire to get to know me). I made sure to compliment the girl and tell my male friend how lucky he was to have found her (both when and when she was not around). I added these girls to Facebook (one deleted me promptly). I took an interest in their lives. I asked to go on double dates. I introduced my boyfriend to the one I met, because I wanted her to know that I was happy with my man and had no intention of going after her's. I mean, what did I do wrong? I don't know.

I guess I understand the situation. I used to be one of those girls. But as my sister pointed out, if the friendship was there prior to the relationship with your significant other, your new bf or gf should respect that friendship. Hell, they should want to make an effort to get to know that friend that means so much to them!! I wanted to know these girls because those guys meant a lot to me... they played a part in shaping me into the person I am today and they were there for me through a lot of good and bad times. I wanted those girls in my life. Why? Because if my good friends chose these girls to be with, I figured they must be pretty special girls. And I am sure they are. They just don't have the confidence to be okay with having their boyfriend hang out with a friend of the opposite sex.

Chris and I have always agreed on one thing. Friendships before dating are there to stay. In my case, I grew up with a lot of male friends. For some reason I just gravitated towards them. Maybe I craved the male attention, or maybe I just had more in common with dudes. This isn't a psychiatric evaluation. Point being, he accepted those guys and because I love Chris and I treasured those friendships, I introduced them all to Chris. Chris became acquaintances, if not friends with them. In Chris's case, he had no real girl friends so there was no issue there. He's always been a guy's guy. The girls he did hang out with in school I have become friends with, because he grew up with them and he has memories with them and they matter to him. So they matter to me. But as far as them being really close friends like I was with my guy friends, there was none of that.

I am trying to wrap my head around this because it is a wake up call for me. I like to learn things from experiences, so I am trying to learn something from this. The only thing I can take from it is that I want to be an accepting, trusting, and loving girlfriend. I don't want to control Chris. And I also now know that I can't really invest that much into any one person, because you never know when they might leave ya.

Afraid of blogging?

2011-06-21T01:20:00.001-06:00

I fell asleep last night thinking about my blog. Isn't that sad?? I was thinking about how over the past year or so, my posts are more and more rare, and when I do post, I don't know what the hell to talk about. What it is, I think, is that I have allowed so many people who know me "in real life" to have access to this blog.

This blog was a safe place for me to get all my feelings out, knowing that feelings couldn't be hurt, and more importantly, knowing that I could be myself. You know, it's sometimes easier to be yourself when you know you are in an environment with people you've never met. Everyone I know "in real life" has a preconception of who I am... and in part they are right... for I only put who I truly am on the table. But there are so many spectrums of ME, just like there are so many spectrums of you. The people I've given access to this blog range from people who know me a little bit, to people who know me a lot, and sadly, that knowledge sets the stage for my posts. I'm afraid to say certain things. I love being honest and real and open, but I also like to guard parts of myself. You could ask, "Why would you give people access to your blog if you don't know them that well?"... I have no real solid answer. I don't regret giving out the URL, but I am mindful of it.

So... AHEM... I have decided that I'm going to do something new with this blog. If I feel the need to open my heart up and share something, of course I will... but for the most part, I'm taking this blog in a new direction. What direction, you ask?

I don't really know yet. I have some ideas floating around. But give me a few weeks. Likely it will be less personal... but you will still get me.

Future...come soon

2011-06-06T03:51:00.001-06:00

Chris is hired as a fire fighter with a city nearby, but is on the waitlist until X number of guys retire. I cannot wait for him to get this job. Not only because it’s what he’s always wanted, but also because it means we will meet new people. We will have a place of our own in a few years, and I will be able to invite our new friends over.

I have this plan. My first house may not have a pool, but eventually I’ll have one. Likely when we both work full-time and can afford an indoor pool, because in Alberta, an outdoor pool is just stupid. You’d only get to use it like three months of the year.

I have this vision of indoor pool parties with Chris’s firefighter buddies and their girlfriends/wives… and the veggie platters I will prepare while Chris BBQs. I’m sure you’re rolling your eyes, but this is the life I want. I want a life filled with family, friends, children, animals, and relaxation. Work hard… play harder.

Family + Love

2011-05-07T04:26:00.003-06:00

WOW! Almost 4am and I am up. It seems all my entries are posted in the wee hours of night. I just got back from watching I Love You, Man, with Chris and his mom. We had a good visit. Her house is full of animals; she is a major pet lover! Three dogs, two cats, a tarantula, a bearded dragon, and some other sort of lizard. Have you ever heard of Hughes Car & Truck Wash? Well, the most recent addition to Chris's mom's family, 1/2 chihuahua 1/2 yorkie, belonged to ex-Mrs. Hughes. They recently divorced, and she decided she could no longer care for her pup, Charles. So Chris's mom took him in, and holy smokes he is the cutest little shit! He was on my lap, belly up, for the entire movie. Halfway through, he started making these weird high-pitched hiccuping noises. Was he dreaming? I don't know! But he abruptly woke up, gave me kisses all over my face, and went right back to sleep, belly up. All four pounds of him.

(Chris's grandma & I)

Early evening, Chris and I went to his grandma's, because her shower was dripping and of course Chris is her knight in shining armour and had to come to the rescue. We were there from 5:00pm - 10:30pm. We went to Home Depot, bought the supplies he needed, and Chris set to work. I drove to Subway for the three of us, and then Chris's grandma and I had a good chat. While Chris was out of the room peeing, our chat went like so:

Grandma: I feel so bad that Chris has to do this on his day off.
me: Chris loves helping you out.
Grandma: Yeah, I know that, dear, but he was also helping his mom steam-clean earlier. He also has to study for his fire course, and I feel like he never gets a break.
me: Chris is the kind of person who can't just sit around and do nothing. He loves helping family, especially you. He is one of the hardest working people I've ever met, and for people our age, that is so rare. I am nowhere near as driven as he is.
Grandma: Oh, I know! And I love that Chris is able to just accept people for how they are with no judgement.
me: I know. I'm a lucky girl to have him.
Grandma: You're lucky to have him, but he is also lucky to have you. You guys understand each other in a way that most people don't.
me: I think that's because we grew up together and were friends for so long before dating.
Grandma: I think you're right. Back in my day, I mean, my marriage lasted, and we loved each other, but back then, it all moved so fast.
*Chris comes back*
me: We were just talking about how great of a guy you are.
Chris: Aw, guys. I'm not that great.
Grandma: Oh, yes you are! I was also saying that you and Beth are lucky to have each other, and that you guys understand each other so well.
Chris: I think that's because we grew up together and were friends for so long before dating.
Grandma & me simultaneously: That's exactly what Beth/I just said!!

(Chris & I)

Sunny shine

2011-05-05T01:09:00.004-06:00

One of my favourite songs of all time! :)

Winter is no longer my favourite season. I don't like it. As far back as memories go, when asked what my fav season was, I would blurt out, "WINTER!!!" I used to like winter--when I was a kid. As an adult, I held onto that childlike feeling about it; sledding, forts, snowball fights. But truthfully, beyond skiing once or twice a year, I haven't enjoyed the outdoors during the winter season in like, ten years.

I am putting my foot down. I do not like winter. It depresses me. I don't leave the house. I sleep, a lot. It's cold, and miserable, and when it's winter, I miss the chirping of birds, the patio parties, and the sunshine pouring in through the windows in the morning. I like spring and summer the most.

I leave my bedroom window open these days, not only for the fresh air, but also because I love waking up to the birds singing their songs. I drive with the window down. I plan on drawing with sidewalk chalk tomorrow. I want to bike ride. Oh, and we had our first wiener roast three days ago; my dad, Chris and I.

Don't you feel rejuvenated!?

BFF

2011-05-01T00:29:00.000-06:00

Chris's uncle had his 60th birthday today. A lot of people showed up, at least 40. They live in the country. Three gorgeous brown horses, four dogs, acres of land, and tonnes of kids running around. It reminded me of Little House on the Prairie. There is something about Chris's family that allows me to be myself, completely carefree with no inhibitions.

Chris's cousin Jonathan has a daughter, Samantha, and she is the bomb! A ten-year-old sweetheart. She is soft-spoken, an amazing drawer, rides horses, and loves me. I gave her a Sketch-Pad and pastels tonight, and she gave me a giraffe keychain that says "best", while her zebra keychain says "friends." When and if I have children, I want 'em to be like her. We text, chat on Facebook, talk on the phone, and I feel like I matter, like I'm someone special, when I'm around her. She makes me feel loved. There is nothing like a child holding your hand and looking at you like you mean everything to them. Right before we left, I had to pee. As I came out of the washroom, I heard Samantha's grandpa and his four friends talking about how Sammy loves Beth and how nice Beth is and how Beth is so friendly and kind... I felt like a million bucks walking into that kitchen, hearing all these kind things about me. For some reason, Chris's family sees something in me that no one else does.

I had a lot of fun tonight.

Money... what's too much?

2011-04-24T03:01:00.006-06:00

Chris and I were just watching back-to-back episodes of The Real Housewives, of Beverly Hills and Orange County. Chris isn't a reality junky like me, but he tolerates the housewives, only because they are plastic, rich, and totally superficial. It is shocking to watch women have so much money and spend it on nothing. We saw one couple spend $27,000 on two watches. He said to me, "I hope one day I have money like that so I can buy you nice things." I said, "I don't want money like that."

That got us into a conversation about wealth, celebrity, and what we would do if we were rich. I am sure we all believe that if we walked into a buttload of money, we would be wise with it. Invest it, donate it, etc. But money changes people. I don't want to have a copious amount of money because it changes a person, more often than not. Chris's uncle's aunt married a multi-millionaire, and when he died, she inherited it. She is the most selfish, greedy, superficial person I have ever met. Her millionaire husband died before I ever met her, so I didn't know her pre-money, but man, she is money-hungry and I think it's disgusting.

I want enough money that I can see nice clothing at a store and be able to buy it without having to check my account balance to make sure I can afford it. I don't want enough money that I can afford to spend $27,000 on two watches. I tell myself that if I had that kind of money, I would do good things with it... but who knows? Maybe I would spend it on a yacht, Michael Jackson's white glove, or an elephant. I would rather not be tempted. Too much money can make a person lose track of all the things that are important.

1/4 of the way there

2011-04-06T00:59:00.000-06:00

I have three classes left to attend in my first year of university. I never thought I would see the day when I would go back to school. I took five years off after high school, and as statistics go, the longer a person goes after high school without going on to post-secondary, the less likely they are to ever go back. I guess I beat the odds! Five years is no lifetime, that's for sure, but I am proud of myself nonetheless. I struggled a lot this semester, going back and forth in my mind if this is what I truly want to do. All along I knew that it was, but there was one class in particular that I struggled with, and it really took a toll on my confidence. Chris, my mom, and especially my sister constantly lifted me up, and reminded me that of course I won't like every class. Of course I will struggle sometimes. And as my sister said to me, "It is the most difficult classes that you learn the most from." I am still unsure of how I will do in this class- I know I will pass, but I may not get the grade I am aiming for. I know that I have worked my butt off and I have done the best I feasibly could.

Cheers to my first year being almost done!

Heartless

2011-04-02T20:25:00.003-06:00

Last night Chris was working so I hung out at home, reading and watching movies. I did a Google search for recently released DVDs because often there are some pretty cool ones that never make it to the theatre and you wouldn't hear about them if not for the internet. I watched Heartless last night, and I really enjoyed it! It may not be for everyone- it's slow in parts and kind of strange, but aren't all movies a little weird these days?

________________

Chris and I have been getting along so, so, so amazingly lately. Typically, we bicker. Full blown fights are rare, and when they do occur, we both apologize and feel like pieces of shit immediately after (they usually happen when we are drunk and emotional). But we do bicker (we think it's fun... is that weird?). I push his buttons and he pushes mine... we grumble and give each other the silent treatment, but then make up about two minutes later. Bickering can be fun, I think, especially when it's over something totally and utterly ridiculous- but I am very happy that we are being so kind to each other these days.

All in all, we communicate more effectively than we used to. I never understood the power behind communication. I thought I did, but until recently, I didn't. It goes a long way to tell someone when you are upset rather than harbour those negative feelings and then you get mad over small things because you are holding all this resentment and then every single problem you've had over the past six months comes bubbling out of you and it creates this huge, catastrophic mess. It is best to be open with your feelings, I have learned. That is hard for me... for whatever reason, I have always had a difficult time with being honest when it's something negative; I feel like I will hurt the person. I think it's because I'm so sensitive, and I know what it feels like when I am criticized, so I try to avoid conflict. But by being upfront about feelings, you avoid worse conflict down the road, if you were to hold it all in.

Did any of that make sense? Basically... I love Chris and I am happier with him than I have ever been.

Goodnight:)

Feeling good

2011-03-31T13:57:00.002-06:00

I changed the look of my blog, because, finally, after months of frigid cold and gloomy skies, the snow is melting and the sun allows me to go outside without a jacket on, and drive around with my windows rolled down. See, I love winter... for about three months. Then it just gets to a person. I get sad and I feel isolated from the world because what are you supposed to do in -30 weather?

My blog is cheery just like the weather!

Class was canceled today. It was also canceled twice last week. What is going on here? I'm thinking it's because it's the end of term, and professors are running out of material to teach. But still... it's a lot of money to be able to go to school, so when teachers decide they don't want to come in for the day, don't they realize they are screwing us? Why am I even complaining? I like an extra long weekend!

I have been really morbid lately and haven't felt much of anything... just dreary and down. However, I have started eating healthier and that has perked me up somewhat. Last weekend we had company over, so for once, I finally put on real clothes (I always wear pajamas). The jeans that had fit perfectly for the past two years were now giving me muffin top. They were so tight that I was sweating! I don't find a belly attractive. It makes me feel like a rolly polly ball of jelly, and when I know I have more than my normal belly, I won't let Chris touch it... which then not only is it making me sad, but it makes him sad. So I decided to put down the deep fried goodness and pick up the vegetables and humus. But you know, I will never really give up foods I love. Wings, pizza, perogies... slurpees... beer... it's just, when I do eat now, I am very conscious of what I am eating. I go that extra mile to make a salad instead of throw Mac N' Cheese in because it's easy. I am aware now. For now. I'm also going to do 500 sit-ups today. I do 20, then take a few minute break, then 20, etc. By the end of a thirty-minute TV show, I'm done. Of course, I haven't done 500 sit-ups in one day since about 8 years ago... so wish me luck!

Yes, I did write a blog entry recently about women feeling like they have to be a certain weight to fit into society's ideal. This, however, is truly for me and my piece of mind. Which I am sure the media has influenced. But still... I like feeling good. Don't you?

UGH.

2011-03-29T02:57:00.007-06:00

I can't wait for the school year to be over. I loved first semester, and absolutely hated the second. I don't think I knew what I was getting into when I decided to tackle this program. I felt like, if I had a knack for writing, why not go to school for it so I could paid to do it? I did not know it would be this hard. Don't get me wrong, I still love the idea of what I will be able to do career-wise once I am done school, but the work is damn hard.

And this brings me to what this post is about.

I had a conversation about a month ago with a friend.

Friend: You are going to school for the coolest thing! I'm a dental assistant... I wish I had the time to pursue writing!
Me: Yeah, I mean, it's not like I'm going to school to write creatively... I'm going so I can do technical writing. Professional writing. It's not like I'm writing stories and not getting paid. There are always job opportunities; advertising, manuals, website writing, newspaper writing, technical descriptions, speeches... anything with writing, I will be able to do.
Friend: Yeah, but, it must be so fun, to just write and stuff. I wish I had the time!

It went on like this for about five minutes. I tried to explain in a very polite way that my schooling is not for the faint of heart. Many times, people assume I am just an artsy fartsy student, enjoying school at my leisure, and will wind up with no career, but hey, at least I got to write! Wrong. Everyone can write, but not all writers are good writers.

I went for a physical last Friday. When I got into my Doc's office, I told her that I've been really stressed out lately with school. She asked if I wanted to up my meds, and I said that no, I am managing it, but that I would come back to her once school is out for the summer to make sure my thoughts aren't like... overly suicidal or anything.

She asked about my schooling, and for ten minutes we talked about the quality of schooling these days, and what's being taught to kids now vs. 50 years ago. What do I know, I don't have kids, so I listened and nodded my head. The conversation went like so:

Doc: What are you in school for?
Me: Professional writing.
Doc: *Goes on a ten minute rant about how children are not taught basic grammar skills anymore. How her son does not know what verbs, adverbs, conjunctions, adjectives, or nouns are.*

She, a doctor, told me countless personal stories that she has faced with her son in regards to his inability to write. She, a doctor, told me countless personal stories that she faced as a med student, having to write papers. She opened up to me about the struggles she dealt with; not knowing how to put together sentences, not knowing how to get her point across, among others. She looked me in the eye and said, "I know nothing about writing. I think it's amazing that you are doing this with your life." And she is a doctor. What I'm doing is amazing? She saves lives. I guess we all have our place in the world.

She was the first person to make me feel completely special and smart. I just wanted to hug her. So many people think my education is a fucking joke.

My point is, people... never put down what someone goes to school for, or make them feel like they aren't doing something great. I lost a lot of respect when my friend made it sound like I was going to school for a past-time. And she is too stupid to realize how stupid she was.

Friendship!

2011-03-24T22:15:00.001-06:00

Do you ever think about the people in your life and think how lucky you are to have them? I don't mean because they are there for you or because you have things in common or anything like that... I mean, out of everyone in the world, they consider you special. They want you in their life. They want to be close with you.

I feel unfathomably fortunate to have my friends. And again, not because I need them or because they are fun or because they understand me. But because I think they are AMAZING, and could be close with ANYONE, but they chose to be close with me.

I think I'm pretty hard to get to know. I mean... once you're in, you're IN, but it's really hard to get to that point with me. I've been in school for almost 8 months now, and am just starting to come out of my shell. The first thing people from school ask me when we start talking is, "Why are you so shy?" and my answer is a big question mark. I don't know why! I think I like to observe, you know, feel out my surroundings. I like to have an understanding of who you are before I befriend you, because I don't want to waste my time with backstabbers or anything like that. But then, aren't I missing out on so much? Shouldn't I give everyone a chance? I don't know. It's a big confusing mess. And that makes me sound like a total bitch. I'm better than you, so I'll decide when we talk. All I mean is that I am jaded. I trust myself, but I don't trust people if I don't know 'em. And for me, that takes observation time.

I do think I am missing out on possible friendships by being so closed off... but I am protecting myself. And it's not like I don't have any friends. I have the best friends a girl could ask for; friends who would do anything for me; give me the shirt off their back. And I am the luckiest girl in the world to have those friends, when they could have chosen anyone else to be theirs.

Do we want slim figures for health or because it's pop culture's ideal?

2011-03-21T01:52:00.000-06:00

I am so off and on with working out and eating right. It pisses me off that I feel I need to look a certain way to be society's ideal. I do realize that it benefits me to be healthy, but I always feel like I'm being sucked in by what "I'm supposed to look like," so I rebel and eat what I want. Lately, though, I have felt the desire to lose a few pounds. My boyfriend is religious with the gym. He eats as healthy as possible; chicken breasts, egg whites, tonnes of water, and he is great at avoiding fattening foods. Also, on Thursday, I went out with a friend who's always been small, but indulged in fatty foods like I tend to do. Over the past few months, though, she has joined a bootcamp, and attends twice a week. This Thursday was the first time I'd seen her in at least six months, maybe more. She is tiny, tiny, tiny! I felt so happy for her, and I'm grateful that she has gotten so healthy, because it totally kicked me into gear. I want to have a trim figure. I want to feel beautiful again. I can't remember what it's like to look in the mirror and like what I see. I am always aware of my belly and my jello arms. I am gonna work my ass off to get rid of them.

Comfort and dry skin

2011-03-10T00:41:00.003-07:00

Skiing is so bad for my skin. Every year as soon as I get back, my chin gets all flakey. Chris noticed it yesterday, and I shrugged it off. "Ahhh, no big deal!" And then I walked comfortably to the bathroom and put some lotion on my chin. (It puts the lotion on its skin.)

And as soon as I came back out of the washroom, I looked at Chris and it hit me just how comfortable I am with him. Seven years ago, when we were in Social Studies together (grade 10), I had come back from a weekend at the mountains, with a super duper dry chin. Chris would come sit by me at the end of each class (we weren't dating yet), and we would hang out and talk. I remember my skin was sooo dry, and I did everything I could to hide it, and not look him in the eye. I was terrified. It was mortifying! He never commented on it, but I got all sweaty having to see him with that grody skin.

I still get nervous around him, like when I dress up or try to look pretty. I hope he notices that I tried to look good. But mostly, I know that he loves me, and I am comfortable in my own (flakey) skin around him.

The mountains

2011-03-07T12:01:00.000-07:00

I had a blast skiing! It was the funnest trip to the mountains I have ever had, thanks to the awesome weather and snow conditions, a great dinner at the Old Spaghetti Factory, Chris being the gem that he is, and not having to ski with my dad the whole entire day. My cousin came this year, and she stuck with my dad. It was nice to be able to go off with Chris and do our own thing. Towards the end of the second day, my sister was looking at my goggles and saw how worn out they were. So she bought me a new pair! Aren't they cute?

On the drive back, my car started acting funny. Any time I accelerate or take my foot off the gas or the brake, my tire squeals and it is the most high-pitched, irritating sound ever! Chris thinks it is a wheel bearing, so he took it to Kal Tire this morning. I hope they can fix it and it doesn't cost too much!

Zonked

2011-03-01T01:20:00.003-07:00

I want to sleep but am unable to. My eyes are heavy and my mind wants to shut down, but here I am, awake. How about some random thoughts? It's gotta be better than counting invisible sheep. Okay, let's go.

For starters, I dropped my phone in the toilet on Saturday. This is the second time this has happened in seven months... shame, shame. I put it in rice (to soak up the water), and it worked for a few hours, but then bam, shut off. Fried. I'm jonesing, man. I need to text! It's really quite alarming to not have a cellphone and realize how much I rely on it. But, fret no more, for I have ordered the cheapest phone I could find on eBay. Okay, not the cheapest. But an inexpensive phone that is brand new. I settled for the Blackberry 8130-- the model is like four years old, so I only ended up paying $60. Good enough for me.

What else? Oh, I'm going skiing this weekend in Banff and Lake Louise. It's sort of my families annual vacation. This year it's going to be me, Chris, my sis, her hubby, my dad, and my cousin. My ski boots over the past few years have become increasingly and horribly uncomfortable. They give me bruises and make me miserable. So a few weeks ago my dad took me out and bought me a new pair! Skiing will hurt no more.

I am going to be so tired tomorrow. Six hours of back-to-back classes. It may not sound too rigorous, but it's constant brain-action, and it's exhausting! I also have a paper due on Thursday that I have yet to start. I have to pretend I'm an editor or something. Lame, lame, lame. Oh man, the one good thing about early classes is I am so rushed to get out the door, and I don't leave myself enough time to make breakfast, so I get to stop at McDonald's!! I looove their breakfast. Nothing like that grossness in my belly. If you are still reading this... hello. :) I guess I've run out of things to say. I should probably try for sleep oneee more time.

Goodnight my pets.

Trash garbage junk

2011-02-22T01:53:00.002-07:00

I don't know why I'm having such a hard time with this 100th post of mine. That's what this post is. Numero one-hundred-oh. Over the past few months, in the search for my 100th post, I have written probably 20 entries... and then deleted them. Blogging has got to be a passion, or you just won't stick with it. Out of the 20-some people I follow, only 3 blog regularly. When I started mine, I was certain that it would be a life-long thing. I would build up years of memories here, and be able to come back in ten years and see where it all began. It's not gonna happen. This is the place I come to when thoughts overwhelm me and I just need to spew it out. What I mean by that is... I don't need people to read my words as much as I need to write them. I don't consider myself a writer. I consider myself a thinker. A very deep thinker, who sometimes can't hold it in, so she needs to write.it.out. And even though this post has nothing substantial in it, I feel so much better for writing it.

Lazy as a sloth

2011-01-19T22:33:00.000-07:00

I am sitting infront of the TV, covered in my new leopard-print heated blanket, with Thoroughgood (my cat) passed out and drooling all over it. Oh, yeah, he is in a cone... he's plagued with a nasty ear infection.

I liked today. I got homework out of the way, went out for wings with a friend, read a little bit, and now get to relax and watch American Idol. I don't normally watch it, but I do have a guilty pleasure; the try-out episodes! I like to see people make an ass of themselves. I secretly applaud them, though. Anyone who knows they are about to face fierce scrutiny, and yet they still go through with it... good for them! I wish I had the balls.

Ahhh... 24

2011-01-07T02:37:00.002-07:00

I'm old. I celebrated a birthday yesterday. The day was more than I hoped for, with breakfast and coffee made in the morning, texts and phone calls from loved ones throughout the day, and steak and crab dinner made by moi brother, enjoyed by family and my mom's best friend. I got everything I asked for... which really, as I age, realize the gifts mean less and less. But I'm selfish and I will admit that I do appreciate them. Perhaps the most unique gift I received? Well... about four and a half years ago, Chris gave me a beautiful tri-gold necklace, and I wore it daily. It was gorgeous. The problem was, the dang thing kept breaking. I wore the crap out of it. So, over the holidays, I kept bringing this necklace up... with everyone! "I had this beautiful necklace once..." "It kept breaking on me..."

Today, I open my gift from Chris. I know it's jewelery. You know, ladies, when it's jewelery. So I lift the lid off the box, and see a tri-gold necklace. I lift it out, and say, "WOW! This looks SO MUCH LIKE the one I had before!!!"

Chris: It is.
Me: I know! It's almost identical!
Chris: No. It is the same necklace. I got it fixed for you a few weeks ago.

And what are the odds that after four years of not having it, I only started bringing it up last week, while he had already gone and gotten it fixed? I love all of my presents, but that one touched me the most. The fact that he held onto that broken necklace for four years and went out on his own to get it fixed... I am one lucky lady.

Moving on.

Four years ago, I was really excited to spend my birthday with friends. (This is a day I give them all a hard time about.) Within thirty minutes of us getting together, they all decide to take a drunken road-trip to Banff... a town four hours away. So I am left alone, devastated, and swearing to myself that my birthday will never be a big hoo-ha ever again. And it hasn't been. But this year... I don't know. I feel different. I feel happier. Chris has reserved 20-30 seats for tomorrow night at a bar, in celebration of my birthday. If everyone shows up, great, and if not... their loss. I am hoping for a full gathering of my closest and dearest friends, but I would be okay with pounding back some tequila shots with four or five people. Just please, dangit, will someone show up!?

The child that isn't mine

2011-01-04T02:46:00.011-07:00

I never knew I liked oysters, but my cousin’s four-year-old child introduced me to them. On Christmas Day, we were at my auntie and uncle's, and as per usual, snacks were on the table for anyone to indulge in before dinner. As Little Man and I were holding hands, walking passed the table of food, he reached out and grabbed an oyster. I watched him shove it into his mouth, and swallow it with a smile on his face. I promptly found his mom and said, “Are you serious? Your kid likes oysters?” She replied, “He’s never tried them, why?” So I told her what had just unfolded. Turns out he has an appetite for anything and everything.

A little while later, him and I were holding hands once more, walking passed the table full of snacks, and before I could stop him, he reached out, grabbed two oysters, and shoved them into his mouth. I figured if he could do it, why couldn’t I? So I hesitantly placed an oyster on a cracker, apprehensively placed it into my mouth, took my first chew, and LOVED it.

He is, perhaps, the smartest child in existence. At two and a half, he knew body parts, letters, could count to 100, and possessed a vocabulary that most seven-year-olds lack. Trust me, this kid will be a world-changer. His mind is sharp and his heart is golden.

I have become quite close with him over the years. When my cousin comes over to visit with my dad, it is an unspoken agreement that I will keep Little Man entertained. We have played in the snow, molded play dough, watched Shrek, played board games, built puzzles, and planted seeds for the garden I wanted but never came to be. We are buddies.

About one month ago, for the first time ever, as he was leaving my house, he said, “I love you, Beth.” It made my heart melt. I am not a person who deals with kids very well; at least I didn’t think I was. But he seems to take to me. The next time he came over, he brought a heart sticker for me, and again, when he left, said, “I love you, Beth.” He now draws me pictures, and demands that they go on my fridge at home. Apparently the little tyke has a crush on me.

He holds my hand, he follows me everywhere, and if I’m gone for even a second, he calls my name and will not let up until I return. He will not sit by anyone but me when we eat dinner.

He also has one brown eye, and one green eye. It is a very obvious contrast, and I always think… 200 years ago, he would have been burnt at the stake! Anyone with two different coloured eyes was considered a witch, and met their maker long before they should have. I am happy he was born now, rather than then, because he is my little buddy and I adore him.

Holidays and appreciation

2011-01-03T03:08:00.007-07:00

After three weeks off school, I am ready to go back. Don't get me wrong, I am totally apprehensive about it, as last semester I had four classes, two of which were incredibly basic, while this semester, one more class is being added to my schedule, and I am expecting a much more rigorous workload. But that's okay. Working towards a career shouldn't be easy, and if it is, your goals aren't set high enough.

(Taken by me, as Chris and I drove to Lake Louise last summer)

One thing I have noticed, is that I am ashamed to let those closest to me read my writing. I feel I write too personal, and maybe the people who matter to me will think I'm a nutcase. Maybe my way of looking at the world is freakish, or too open, and that makes me feel immensely vulnerable. I let my parents read my papers that I write for school, and I let Chris read this blog, but beyond that, I guard my words like a mother guards her newborn. This worries me, only because one day I would like to write some sort of novel. But the fact that it would be open to the public, and therefore my closest friends and my family... prevents me from thinking it will ever really happen.

Last night, as I was packing Chris's lunch for work, I was writing a letter for him, so I could throw it into his lunch bag. My mom saw me start the letter, walked away to go quilt, and came back into the room two minutes later to me having a full page written. She said, "WOW! You must be a writer!" I hear the same from those around me. Apparently it is something special to put words together super duper quickly and have them make a profound impact on someone. Those comments make my heart smile, but what if the crap I write truly is crap; nothing anyone would ever want to read? The words flow from me in the most nonsensical ways, but they always seem to make sense... to me, at least. But what if no one else understands, what if my life is spent on this journey to write something life-changing, but in the end, it amounts to nothing more than crumpled up paper in the trash? Anyway. Enough of my nonsense.

The holidays were great to me. I spent a lot of time with family, both mine and Chris's, and it meant a lot to me to see all of my family together... happy and healthy (except for the death of Chris's aunt). Last night we had family over to our house, and it was a nice treat for Chris and I to get some alone time with my uncle. I had never really spent time with him. The three of us talked pretty heavily about various family types, and how we are so fortunate that our entire family gets along, stays in touch regularly, and happily comes together for the holidays. I realized during this conversation how grateful I am for the family I was born into.

So with that, I wish all of you a very happy year, and I hope that happy memories are made, and health for you and your loved ones.

Death.

2010-12-09T13:11:00.001-07:00

A few days ago, my friend asked me if I had heard what happened to Brandon. I got a sinking feeling. In my experience, that question is only asked when someone has been seriously injured, or worse. Sure enough, she told me that he passed away.

I went to elementary with Brandon. We would hang out after school and play tag, I would go to his birthday parties; he was my friend. In grade four he moved to the other side of the country and we lost contact for a long, long time. Two years ago, though, he moved back, and we re-connected. We started texting here and there, and chatting on Facebook.

Over the past few months... any time he would try to talk to me, I would ignore him. Why? Because he would call me cutie, or sweetie, and said inappropriate things considering I have a boyfriend and he had a girlfriend. It made me feel uncomfortable, so I avoided him. When I found out that he died, I was shocked.

And then I found out how: he jumped from his balcony. I can't help but think... if I hadn't avoided him... if we had become good friends, maybe he would have opened up to me, told me of his depression, and maybe I could have helped him. Isn't it silly... we blame ourselves for things that clearly aren't our fault. I just wish I could have known that he was in a dark place. I would have listened to him. I would have been there for him.

Too little too late.

Winter is here.

2010-11-17T20:40:00.001-07:00

As a poor University student, I have to make money where I can. I could get a job, but... I don't want to. I am somehow making it through with the little bit I had saved up. Okay, I'll be honest, Chris is my sugar daddy. But, to do what I can, I shovel for the elderly couple across the street. For as long as I can remember, it has been a job my family has done for them. It began with my brother, then got passed on to my sister, and then to moi. Last year, though, I decided I didn't want to do it anymore, so my dad took over. This year is a little different. Any money in my pocket is swell, so for $50/month I will shovel their relatively small driveway. If it snows three feet every day for the entire month, I make $50. If it snows lightly only twice during the month, I make $50. Truthfully... I enjoy doing it. I complain about it when I am snuggled inside watching a good TV show and know I have to go outside and freeze my tush off, but when I'm out there, I sort of get a thrill from the cold biting through my jeans and smacking my legs like daggers. When the job is done and I cross the street to come back home, I always look back at my job and admire it. Shovelling can be done half-assed or it can be done extremely well. The key is to get out there before people walk all over it, or vehicles drive over it... because then it is a real pain in the ass. You can also do a quick, sloppy job, and leave obvious trails behind. But for me, I like to do it right, especially because they are elderly and if I mess up, it could result in a broken hip.

We got our first snowfall today. :)

Lazy

2010-11-11T20:30:00.001-07:00

Tonight I will snuggle in my new bed (pillow-top mattress, mmm) with Christopher, and we will watch a movie on my laptop. Then, I will read some of my book (it's a really good one, and really long, too-- Under The Dome by Stephen King).

Hopefully my dreams tonight will be better than they have been:
1) my teeth falling out
2) aliens trying to steal me from Chris
3) or the one I had last night, where my friend was a vampire and was trying to catch me so he could turn me into one, too. He couldn't catch me, so he threw a chinese throwing star at me and it went through my back and cut the upper part of my body off. They say you can't die in your dreams. I beg to differ.

I am famous

2010-11-06T02:29:00.007-06:00

I was chatting online, when my dad yelled,

dad: Beth, come here!

me: Just a second

dad: No, quick!

me: WAIT

dad: You're famous!

*This peaked my interest, so I ran to the other side of the house, where my pa was reading the paper.*

My writing made it into my city's newspaper! :) I mean, really, it's only the "Letters to the editor" section, but still... it made me feel famous, at least momentarily. My name is in print! How many people can say that? Let me have my moment, dangit!

If you care, which trust me, I won't be upset if you don't, it can be seen here.

I haven't included a photo in a while, so here you go.

PS: her cone is off now!

Aunt Flow can eat it

2010-11-03T19:12:00.001-06:00

The day I became a "woman" was the day my life changed.

Each month I am crippled with unbearable cramps. It truly feels like millions of knives are stabbing me from my stomach all the way down to my toes. When I was younger, I heard cramps were normal; part of my body adjusting to this new "thing" that was happening, and that in a few years, my body would normalize itself. WRONG.

I get cold, clammy, shaky, dizzy, I can't stand straight, and if I am so lucky to find a comfortable position, I don't dare move an itch or the pain starts all over again.

Obviously I can't compare my cramps to yours, and I may not be the best at dealing with pain, but they suck. A few years ago I went on Naproxen, a prescribed pain-killer to ease the cramping. I am to take it a few days before my period starts, and then continue to take 1 or 2 pills as needed, every four hours, for the first few days. Sometimes they don't help, but usually they do. This month, however, I ran out of pills... so I knew I was in for a treat.

I woke up this morning and felt okay. I popped two Tylenol and went out to my car to drive to school. Halfway up my street, I was bawling in my car, and repeating over and over again, "It hurts, it hurts, it hurts!" I got to school, felt better, but knew it would be a miracle if I made it through the hour and a half of class.

With forty-five minutes left in class, the cramps returned. I changed positions regularly, trying to get comfortable, while also trying to focus on what my professor was saying. With twenty minutes left in class, I realized I wasn't absorbing a single thing she was saying, so I quietly packed my belongings up, and walked out while my professor was in the middle of teaching. As I walked past her, I offered a weak smile. Then I left the classroom, and broke down crying.

I cried the whole way home. Thankfully I knew I had Naproxen waiting for me at the pharmacy, so I went to get my pain-pills. I popped two, and half an hour later felt wonderful. I came home, worked out, and am still feeling great. I also e-mailed my professor and apologized for being so rude as to leave partway through class. She won't mind. She knows I am a good student.

I just thought I would share the misery of my menstruation, because boy do I loathe it.

Health Shmealth

2010-11-02T18:04:00.002-06:00

I started working out today. Back in high school, I was religious with Pilates... every day, for three years. I know now, though, that I was a little too concerned with weight; I focused on the areas I hated, and never appreciated the areas I loved. I look back now to pictures of me taken then, and I can't believe I didn't see myself for what I truly looked like. I am conscious of it now, and realize that in five years, I may look back on myself at this age and think, "You should have known how good you looked then!" So I love my body and fully accept myself as is. Sill-- I wouldn't mind losing a few pounds here, a few inches there. To be completely honest, though, 90% of the reason why I have decided to work out again has very little to do with weight. As I said, I am comfortable in my own skin.

But if you read my post the other day about the numbness and sadness I was feeling, that should explain a lot. As I was writing that post, I knew what was wrong... boredom, feeling unproductive, knowing I wanted a healthy stress-reliever but I couldn't figure out what that stress-reliever should be. My sister commented on that post, saying that maybe I needed something to stimulate me other than school (since as I said, that's where all of my energy was going).

So... I am working out because it makes me feel so good inside. I love knowing that I am giving my body fuel, that by working out I am saying I am worth loving, and yes, the burn in my muscles after pushing my body past its limits is invigorating. Seeing results doesn't hurt, either.

By Christmas, I hope to be in visibly better shape. No inch or weight loss goals, and no restricting my diet. I just want to know that I am healthier inside and out.

Full circle

2010-11-01T02:00:00.003-06:00

I used to worry about everything. EV-ER-EE-THING. These days, though, I am able to take a deep breath and let it go. I don't know if it's my medication, or the confidence I've gotten since being in school, but most things nowadays don't phase me.

There are moments, though, like when I posted my last entry, when things get to be too much. Those are the moments that scare me.

I spent a good chunk of my Thursday night crying... bawling, rather. I had my cat on my lap, my book in my hand, and I was not happy. I stared into space for a few hours, with tears pouring down my face, and I kept thinking, "What am I doing with my life?"

But sometimes you need those moments. I woke up Friday morning feeling good. Knowing that I would be A-OK.

I know that the happiness won't last. I will get sad again, and I will cry like that again, and question my purpose here on Earth again. But I also know that those feelings will again go away, and I will be happy once more. It is a circle, one that perpetuates itself and never really leaves us, because we always want more, and not being able to attain more leaves us feeling empty.

It is just a matter of always remembering that the happiness will return. The sadness will come indefinitely, but so will the happiness.

Blah

2010-10-28T23:57:00.000-06:00

Lately I have felt numb. I don't really know what I am trying to accomplish. I am going to school and doing well enough and I enjoy it, but I feel like that's all I live for anymore. When I'm not at school, I'm exhausted. I can barely muster up the energy to wash my clothes or make myself food. I try to sit down and understand how I'm feeling, but it's all superficial. I don't know what I am feeling. There is a haze in my brain, that is preventing anything real from coming out. I just know that I have this really happy face on, because school is going well and I am doing what I want to do, but deep down I don't know what I am doing. I am frustrated. Really, really frustrated. How do I suddenly not know who I am anymore? I mean, I have no friggin' clue. I go through the motions of doing the things I am supposed to do, but when I am alone with my thoughts, I just want sleep, and I feel empty.

I hope this weekend recharges me.

Such and such

2010-10-14T14:48:00.003-06:00

School is going fantastic! So far my marks on various assignments are 80%, 88%, 96%, and queue sad-face... 65%. That was a group project, and we lost marks because an article we were supposed to research wasn't a good enough article. My partner picked the article, but I told my prof that I was not throwing her under the bus because it was also my responsibility to agree or disagree to using it, but I also through it out there that if she has any extra marks that I can earn at some point, I am all for it.

Tomorrow Chris goes for his interview with the Edmonton City Fire Department!!! 900 men applied, and after the competency test, another 600 moved on to the physical. From the physical, only 240 made it, and now they are interviewing those 240 guys for somewhere between 80 and 100 positions. Chris is very excited, but also very nervous. I keep telling him that he has done great up to this point, so he should go into the interview confident, and trust that they he will be hired. And if not, well, it just wasn't meant to be and there is always next year. Please cross your fingers for him, and if you believe in any God, say a quick little prayer! :)

What do I take for granted?

2010-10-09T03:28:00.003-06:00

I grew up in a house with a family who gets along. None of my relatives have ever had detrimental disagreements. We come together for family functions, and we talk regularly.
My backyard. It is large, and beautiful (thanks to my dad), and there was always room to kick a ball around.
My body. It is not perfect, of course, but I realize now that I am lucky to have the body I have. I never struggled with finding clothes, or fitting in socially, like so many people do.
My education. I never worried about school supplies not being afforded, or field trips I would have to miss. Most importantly? I knew post secondary would be covered.
Health. I take my health for granted more than anything else. I smoke when I drink, I drink more than I should, I don’t eat like I should; I feel invincible. It will end one day.
That my grandma is still around.
Chris. I take Chris for granted. I am one lucky girl to have the man I have. We all say this when we are in love, and I believe we are all lucky to have found love, but Chris is my best friend and as cheesy as it sounds, he pushes me to be the best person I can be.
Where I live. I often think how lucky I was to be born in Canada; the land of the free. What are the odds? There are billions of people in this world, and Canada accounts for such a small percentage of the total world population… yet I was born here. I am so thankful I was born here rather than Vietnam, or Thailand, or in an AIDS stricken village in Africa.
I am alive.

Autumn is already here!?

2010-09-30T19:19:00.003-06:00

I imagine it has been a process; the air is brisk, sunrise happens a little later and sunset a little earlier, and the leaves have transformed from vibrant green to bright reds, oranges, and yellows. But it sure feels like fall has crept up on me.

(I did not take this photograph.)

What is your favourite season? I guess it's hard to say, no? I mean, we all lean towards one of the four, but do you notice that in summer, it's so scorching hot that you just want winter? And when it's winter, you can't stand the cold or the isolation, so you want the colourful leaves of fall; to be able to see your neighbours raking leaves and to look outside your window and see a vivid autumn scenery? And then it's fall, and it's nice for a while, but then the grass dies, the flowers wilt, the trees are bare, and you want nothing more than to see fresh, blooming, spring flowers? And then you love spring because it's a new beginning, but then... you realize you forgot how muddy and dusty it is, and you are sick of the rain, so you then want summer where you are able to BBQ and drink beers on the patio.

It is a sickening cycle.

I love living where I do and getting to fully experience all four seasons. I complain about each season when it's here, but when it's gone, I want it back.

By the way, my favourite season is winter.

Cancer

2010-09-23T23:17:00.009-06:00

On Saturday, Chris's cousin Kali is getting married. I have only met her a handful of times, but I have heard countless stories about her, because as children, she and Chris were the best of friends. Kali is covered in tattoos and piercings, and every time I've met her, I've been surprised with how friendly she is. Chris's mom's side of the family is reserved and stand-offish, but this little number is an artistic, welcoming, beautiful woman.

And her mom is dieing.

Kali's mom, Sheila, has battled cancer her entire life. And I mean entire life. At age sixteen, Sheila's family was going to move to China as her father had a job opportunity there. But suddenly she became deathly ill. They quickly discovered Sheila had a rare form of Leukaemia and would likely not make it. The family stayed put in order to look after her.

She survived, with a sprinkle of luck and a gallon of prayer. I am not religious, but that family believed in the power of prayer, and I do believe that the power of the mind and what people believe in has the capability to cure cancer (sometimes).

A few years after her battle with Leukaemia, she got breast cancer. They removed her breast. Ten years later, she got breast cancer again. They removed Sheila's other breast.

Talk about a crappy hand of cards, hey?

So, on her life goes. Sheila marries the love of her life, she has two children, Zack and Kali, and a successful career. Sheila actually went to school for exactly what I am taking now.

And then...

About this time last year, I was at Chris's Nana's when Sheila walked in. She had just gotten a pedicure. She was wearing a black tank, black sandals, and a white flowing skirt with a black flower-pattern. She was vibrant. I remember it perfectly. She looked stunning. And then I remember her saying, "I am having some stomach problems. I just can't keep anything down. I made an appointment with the doctor."

A week later she was diagnosed with lung, stomach, liver, you-name-it-cancer. A month later she was on chemo. Four months later, when chemo was failing and she was weakening, she signed up for an experimental cancer treatment. And today, she has gone from 200 pounds to 120 pounds, in a wheelchair, hairless, weak, and will soon need to be fed from a tube. They have given her months. But she is still loving her children and her husband and her life, for as long as she has left.

I have not seen Sheila in six months. Last time I saw her, she was still heavy, had hair, was mobile, able to cook, drive, and function like you or I.

I am nervous to see her on Saturday. I know this is likely the last time I will see her. What do I say? Do I tell her she looks good, even if she looks like shit? Do I bring up the cancer? I am certain this wedding will be hard enough on her as it is, without people bringing up her situation. I just don't know how to be around her.

A strong sigh of contentment

2010-09-20T00:36:00.004-06:00

Have I ever been so blissfully happy as I am now? I want to say no.

I have had many moments and periods of pure joy. When I was in Thailand. High school graduation. When I fell in love with a stray cat and my parents decided I could keep her. Chris taking me to the mountains two months ago for a surprise vacation. Those were all moments in my life that stand out, because I was overjoyed and satisfied with life, but it isn't anything like where I am now.

Boots, the stray cat my parents let me keep. She had one eye.

My life has been a lucky and blessed one, and these days I am truly appreciating it. These days, I would not change a thing. I am dating my best friend. I have the best friends. I am healthy. I love learning new things at school. I love coming home and trying to explain my new knowledge to my family, friends, and boyfriend. My life is fairly relaxed. The only stress I have is assignments and exams. I don't have to worry about cancer, or starving, or AIDS, or how I will afford this or that or the other thing.

I am gloriously happy and feel a strong sense of stability. I feel capable of handling anything life throws my way.

I read in the paper this weekend, an article about a 16-year-old girl who lives in BC that was at a rave, and got gang-raped by seven males. Pictures were taken, and those pictures are now circulating the internet with thousands of downloads. That poor girl. It is sickening what happened to her, and equally as sickening that thousands of people are now downloading those images.

My uncle came over for dinner tonight, and he has Parkinson's. Five years ago when I was a Purchaser for his company, he either was not yet diagnosed, or he had very minimal signs of it. These days, his movements are slow and painstaking. My cousin, his daughter, had to help him pull the sleeve of his coat on, and my dad had to help him put his backpack on. He struggled cutting his steak at dinner. Don't get me wrong. I don't pity him. No one wants pity. But I can't help but think... how can I not be happy with where I am in life, when I look at where he is? He has had a great life with a successful business, and four kids that are doing great for themselves, but I feel sadness when I see him uncontrollably shake.

My best friend had hip-replacement surgery when he was in sixth grade. His hips never fully formed, and he has suffered a lifetime of pain and limping, as well as the comments and stares that come from society when they see something that isn't "normal." Again, no pity. But I have had in depth conversations with him about the emotional and physical pain he has gone through over the course of his life. He is currently getting prepared for his second hip-replacement, which will be his last, as doing any more than two is not something any reputable surgeon will attempt. So when his second hip-replacement fails, he is looking forward to a wheelchair.

A little perspective is always good.

Life is grand and I am one happy turkey.

Life happens

2010-09-16T22:27:00.000-06:00

I will say this: my life hasn't had this much focus in a long time. It gets annoying though, because while I wish I had some sort of hobby or excitement in life to talk about, all I seem to bring to the table these days is talk of school. I live and breathe it. Before, when I was working full-time, I hated my job, so I found other things to keep me interested in life. But now, because I am interested in school, I find I don't have the time for the things I used to do. Catch 22.

I have realized that I am not shy like I once was. In new situations, where I don't know anyone, like school, I tend to be stone silent for the first few days... it's not that I am shy so much as it is that I am feeling the situation out. I am an observer by nature, and would prefer to know what I am getting into before I open my mouth. That being said, this week, I have taken the first step in talking to at least 10 new people, and all of these experiences have been good ones. It makes such a difference to go to school and know that I have people there I can talk to. It really does ease any concerns I may have about not understanding material (I can always ask a friend), or about feeling like a socially awkward weirdo.

Today is my Friday, and I plan on staying up for a few hours and reading my Nora Roberts novel. Maybe I will go to bed around 2:00am, and then tomorrow Chris and I are going over to his dad's. Did I mention Chris's dad has a girlfriend now? She is a total sweetheart, and we couldn't be happier for Chris's dad. He is a gentle, quiet, hardworking, loyal, and honest man... who deserves love like we all deserve happiness. He had been single for ten or more years, so it is a real treat to go over to his place and see him snuggling on the couch with his girlfriend.

At this point, my mind is mush, and I just want to do what I have built my night around... being lazy and reading my book. So with that, I hope you are all doing well. Sorry I have been such a crappy blog friend...

Forgive me.

School is HERE

2010-09-09T15:45:00.001-06:00

Just stopping in for a quick howdy-doo to mark this monumental phase in my life.

My first week of school is officially over!

Any fears I may have had were assuaged. I did not die. I made a friend. I didn't get lost once. I love my schedule. Monday/Wednesday, I am only there from 2:00 - 3:30pm. Tuesday/Thursday, I have a morning class from 8:00 - 9:30am and then I get a little break before the next class which runs from 11:00am - 2:00pm. Which meeeans... I get every Friday off! Woohoo, three day weekends!

My initial plan was to get a job ASAP; to cover gas, cell phone, and spending money. However, I currently have about $600 which will carry me for a while, as Chris has been so generous in saying he is totally willing and happy to pay when we go out on weekends (since this is really the only time I will be able to go out). I also read recently that full-time students who work part-time will usually see their marks drop. Thing is, I may not be in class much, but I am counting on a heavy load of homework to do outside of the classroom. So I am going to make my funds last as long as I possibly can, and when they dry up, I will re-evaluate my finances.

This semester, I am taking Sociology, Research Skills for Writers, Analysis and Argument, and Mac Skills for Writers. My Sociology professor has a thick Nigerian accent which is a drag, but after two classes, I can safely say I am slowly starting to understand him, and the material is way too interesting to consider switching to another class. I am dreading Research Skills for Writers, but my professor is a well-respected journalist and promises to make research fun... so I am putting my trust in her! Analysis and Argument seems like a breeze, with half of the material being what I learned in the class I took last winter, and the other half centres on knowing how to write a solid essay and defend your point (sounds simple... but we'll see). And lastly, Mac Skills for Writers... I am shooting for at least an A here. The skills we will be learning are basic. As the prof said, "You are not design students. You are writers. What we want to do is give you some ownership in your craft, so when you get into the working world where things are more than ever technology-based, it will be an asset to understand what goes on behind the scenes." I am very comfortable with computers, and so I see no problem there.

That is the run-down of my first week... and now I must make some perogies because I am famished!

Am I broken?

2010-09-03T04:59:00.005-06:00

I went to orientation for school yesterday. My nerves were calm and I felt relaxed, which is definitely not how I operate. Not how I used to operate, rather. Not knowing where to park, what door to go into, what classroom to be in; before, this would have given me horrible anxiety for days, maybe even weeks. But yesterday, I was able to enjoy the drive there. I found a stall with ease, paid for parking, and strolled into the building, and in front of a group of strangers, looked at the large sheet that listed the room for my program’s orientation. To any “normal” person, this is all as easy as picking out an outfit for the day. For me, it was huge.

And this got me thinking… over the past few months, I have blogged pretty regularly about my anxiety, and how it can control my life. But it hasn’t controlled my life in a very long time, and so I have decided that I will no longer use it as an excuse, or an escape. I may be more prone to anxiety and panic attacks than the average person, but I have it ten thousand times more under control than I used to. I am no longer my anxiety.

But I was quiet today at orientation. Lots of the people in my program were chatting, and getting to know each other, while I sat there, stone silent. Twenty minutes before orientation began, I walked over to the classroom where it was being held and saw a few girls, talking away on a couch outside of the room. I said to one of the girls, “Excuse me,” and she smiled at me, shimmied over and said, “Oh, sorry,” and made room for me. I sat there on my phone, playing Sudoku, while I listened to the three of them talk about music, clothes, and the writing program we will be taking. I felt like a total loser.

Then, when it came time to go into the classroom, I walked in and briefly glanced at the few faces glancing at me, and found a seat in a row where no one was yet sitting. I sat down, and what do you know, the three girls who were talking on the couch beside me, sat next to me. They picked up where they left off (music, clothes, school), and so did I (Sudoku).

I kept thinking… I don’t need friends here. I have got all the friends I want and need. My life is complete. My circle is complete. I am here to learn, and making friends at school will cause a distraction. But I know I am telling myself this to protect myself. If I don’t build friendships, I need to know that I will be okay with that. I am so shy. Once you know me, I am weird, outgoing, perverted, kind, deep, and generous… but until then, I am painfully quiet.

How did all these people at orientation, and especially these three girls, build a bond so quickly, while I found it so difficult to even look them in the eye, smile, or say hello?

Honestly… anxiety aside… is there something wrong with me?

I kiss you goodbye

2010-08-26T01:41:00.003-06:00

I used to write when I was sad. The only time I could get anything out was when I was feeling down. I had journals blanketing the bookshelves in my bedroom, and if a stranger entered my world and flipped through the pages of my life, they would think what a sad girl I was. I wasn't always sad, but it was the only time I could write. I would think how if I died, my parents would read through my thoughts, and think how sad and lonely I was. And how it was not an accurate representation of who I was, because even though I only wrote when I was sad-- I wasn't always sad.

But now, I only want to write when things are looking up, and I have something of interest to say. This makes my writing less interesting and more bland, and perhaps not as deep, but it gives an image of a happier me, and these days, I feel that is more accurate.

My last day of work was today, and as I was cleaning out my drawers and cupboards and emptying the contents off my desk, I came across a few journals. I'd steal notebooks from the storage room at work, and I would write when I felt it necessary. When I couldn't hold in the sadness or anger or disappointment of what my life had become. You don't know how many days I worried about me dieing, and someone discovering those depressing diaries (I think about my death a lot). I wrote who I did not want at my funeral, where I wanted my belongings to go, and the thoughts I had of my worthlessness. When I flipped through them today, I thought how sad I was. I ripped those pages into tiny pieces, and spent ten minutes at the paper disposal, watching the sad words of a girl long gone, drift away. Because I am not that girl anymore.

I cook, clean, wash clothes, go shopping, work out, read, and dream. I gauge my happiness by my dreams. Weird, right? But I find that when I am sad or stressed, my sleeps are restless and dreamless. Lately, I have been dreaming a tonne! All night long, with no interruptions. True, a lot of them are nightmares, but I am okay with that. I simply wake up mid-sleep, shake Chris awake, and say, "Cuddle me! I just had a nightmare and I'm scared!" Dreams, happy or scary, are good, because it means you are in a deep sleep, which in my mind means you are living a full day and are deserving of a healthy sleep.

Have you heard of the Chilean miners? I may be wrong in my facts here... I'm just going by what I have heard. But I heard there are 25 miners, who have been 6,000 feet underground for 17 days. It was presumed they were dead, but later discovered all of them were alive. Because of the fragility of where they are, a soft-drill is needed, which means they can be stuck there, in a small apartment-sized space, with no bathroom, in the dark, until Christmas. As a plus, they now have access to a mere six inch tube which will supply them oxygen, water, and food.. but keep in mind, this six inch tube is supposed to satisfy 25 people. Ugh. If they all survive, imagine the respiratory problems they will have, let alone the mental problems.

This gives me chills to think about.

And so, I just love where I am.

Small update

2010-08-22T01:15:00.002-06:00

Chris and I typically go out on weekends with friends. It is a good thing to be social, and to stay connected with people who matter to you, but often times that means we don't get many days that are just for us. We used to hang out alone weekend after weekend after weekend. We would rent movies, play Wii, boardgames, or have some drinks together. Today Chris suggested we have one of those days. We cooked dinner together; turkey sandwiches and chicken wraps, watched two episodes of Breaking Bad, and have consumed a little alcohol. It has been a good day.

Also, my mom paid for my tuition today, as well as my books. I logged into my school e-mail, clicked on the link to pay fees, and put in her credit card number with ease as she sat beside me in boredom. Trust me, it was a smooth transaction that took minutes, but I kept thinking how lucky I am. How easily thousands of dollars were forked over for the sake of my education, while fellow students of mine will be stressing out hardcore about the debt they will take on. To be debt free while in school is huge. I am so fortunate to have parents who can afford my schooling. All I said was a simple thank you. And it felt so small, so minor. I want to do something for my parents so that they know I am very appreciative for all they are doing for me... but what?

Moving on... I have three days of work left. Wednesday is my last day, and on Thursday Chris and I take off to Victoria, BC, to visit my sister and her hubby. My sis moved there a few years ago, and I haven't yet had a chance to make it out there to see her. So I am so so so excited to see what it's all about, this place that she loves and now calls home.

I feel like my life is just taking off. There are periods we go through; childhood, adolescence, adulthood. And while I am 23-years-old and clearly an adult, I am just now beginning to understand myself. I am being true to myself. I am comfortable in my own skin, which is something I can say I have never experienced. I am just one big ball of happiness, and all I can say is that I wish the same for all of you.

Akoha- changing the world with kindness

2010-08-20T23:42:00.005-06:00

I came across such a neat idea earlier today as I was reading an issue of Readers Digest. I usually flip through to a story that catches my eye, and catch my eye this story did. Titled, "We're All Going to Be Rich, But money won't matter as much," is an article about a 36-year-old Canadian entrepreneur named Austin Hill who builds internet software, data programs, search engines, etc.

The focal point of the article is that during the 20th century, despite the tragedies that occurred, the overall wealth of the world increased 40-fold, and it is estimated that by 2100, the Gross World Product will be 26 times larger than in 2001. This is all seemingly great news, right? We will all be rich! But in truth, it is not great news, because studies show that once you attain a certain level of wealth, earning more will have no bearing on your happiness. So we will be rich, which is a plus, but in a land where everything will be at our fingertips and the economy will be fueled by possessions, it will only be that much harder to get to the root of the human heart and what we are all about as a species... love... friendship... good deeds... connection.

So that's where Austin Hill's program, Akoha, comes into the picture. "It is a social-reality game where you earn karma points by 'playing' real-world missions." For example, you make someone smile, give a child a book, donate an hour of your time... and your online karma score increases. The goal is not to be the wealthiest, but to have the highest karma score.

Akoha will keep you excited about contributing to the world because your online esteem will rise (and of course it will make you happier to make those around you happy, as well as help you focus on the things that truly do matter in life), but it will also reach those who are not even aware of the site, and maybe they will pay it forward and do a kind thing for someone else.

It goes on to compare the wealth and familiarity of celebrities and their reputation in the world, in conjunction with all the free stuff they get. They have all this money, but they don't need it, because they are so universally recognized and because of their recognizability, people want to make a connection with them, and how do they do this? They give gifts; clothes, jewelry, electronics, flights, free vacations. Imagine if our reputation as Good Samaritans had more merit than our wallet. Maybe one day this will be the case.

Construction on a Catholic Seminary

2010-08-15T02:50:00.017-06:00

Chris is a full-time EMT, but when he can, for extra cash, he tile sets. Before going back to school to be an EMT, he tiled for 4+ years. His tile boss is more like his friend, and so Chris does what he can to help him out, such as working on weekends. Chris's boss, Adam, works under an Australian, Wayne.

Today, Chris was tiling a Catholic Seminary with Adam and Wayne. I had the day off, with nothing to do, so I surprised Chris, Adam, and Wayne with iced coffees. After many turn-arounds, I finally found where I was going. I pulled into the construction site, handed Chris the tray of iced coffees, and stepped out of my car into the sunshine. I find nothing more attractive than men who get dirty for a living. The four of us stood outside and drank our iced coffees.

I looked at the construction around me and said, "This is incredible." And then the bomb dropped. Wayne, the Australian, told me the Catholic Seminary forked over ONE MILLION DOLLARS for fourteen windows. That the two Catholic Churches, side by side, are worth $114 MILLION combined.

Me: And does this money come from the government, or...?
Wayne: Oh, no, it's the Roman Catholic's money. They are loaded.

I shook my head. I looked at my shoes, and kicked the dirt, gravel, and dust at my feet. I thought, I can think of so much better use for this money. But I didn't dare say anything, because even though I hear funny, hilarious stories about these guys that Chris has worked with for years, I don't know them all that well and I don't want to step on toes or offend anyone.

But then Wayne read my mind and said in his sexy Australian accent, "They could solve world hunger with that money."

I took a tour of the Seminary. It was beautiful. But it made me sick. I learned a lot tonight about the Catholic Church, and how the money is collected... and divided... and my God, I am sorry, but I cannot support a religion that can afford to spend one million dollars on fourteen windows.

I am not doubting this will offend at least one person who reads this. But this is my blog, and I felt it necessary to speak of my shock at what I discovered today. This is nothing against religion, or personal beliefs... I swear, I am so very tolerant of what each of you believe in. But I can't stomach this.

Commit one act of random kindness today -- I saw that on a bumper sticker on the back of a Volkswagen Wagon today as I was driving home from the Catholic Seminary.

Mom

2010-08-14T04:16:00.000-06:00

It is 4 o'clock in the morning and I am blogging. You know why? Because I have been run down this past week with diarrhea and a bad case of the common cold. I have slept like I'm in hibernation, and now I am crawling out of my den. On Tuesday evening, I fell asleep at 6:00pm and didn't wake until 6:00am on Wednesday morning (12 hours). I fell asleep at 9:00pm Wednesday evening, called in sick to work on Thursday, and didn't wake up until 6:00pm that evening (21 hours). I went to work today, and as soon as I got home at 4:00pm, I slept until 10:30pm. My immune system is shattered. Or... and this is likely the most honest excuse: I revert back to a baby when I am not feeling well.

There are people out there who take illness in stride. They are able to suck it up and push through the grogginess, headaches, and sniffles. Well... not I. A banged knee, a migraine, the flu, and the only thing I want is my mom.

Here is a typical conversation with my mom when I am not feeling well (she speaks in a soft voice):

Me: Mom, I don't feel well...
Mom: I know...
Me: Don't you care?
Mom: Of course I care!
Me: Can't you fix it?
Mom: I wish I could, honey, but I can't. Take a warm soak in the tub. Do you want some soup? Ginger-ale? Cover up with a blanket and watch some T.V.

These are suggestions that anyone could make, but they are different coming from my mom. I take it more seriously, more personally, and I believe she cares more than someone else who suggests I do the exact same thing.

Cramps. Ugh, I dread that time of the month. It isn't so bad these days, now that I've got mega-strength pain killers and a heating pad that I sleep with nightly, but when they are so unbearable that I can't hold back the tears, I look at Chris and I whine. I ask him why he doesn't care. I ask him why he doesn't fix it. I ask him where my mom is. I cry, "I want my mom!" He tells me that I need to learn how to deal with pain on my own... that I can't rely on my mom every time I feel discomfort. But I disagree. Why can't I want my mom when I am in pain?

Happy sigh

2010-08-06T18:03:00.005-06:00

Last night, I was looking forward to work, because doing something you don't like is never so bad when you know you're almost done. I am giving my two weeks on Wednesday.

Today after work, I went for a drive. I was stopped at a red light and that's when I saw him. A monk, in his orange robe, walking across the street, with sunglasses and headphones on. It made me smile.

Tomorrow, I am going to a friend's birthday party. This time last year, he was getting one of his kidneys removed due to kidney cancer. He is in remission now and I am thinking-- wow.

A little perspective is just what I needed.

Take a breath-- and happy weekend to all of you!

Lucky girl I am

2010-08-02T03:28:00.005-06:00

This is where I am spending my weekend. Chris surprised me, big time. For two weeks, I knew he was taking me somewhere, but where exactly was a mystery. I pried and prodded, asked my dad (who knew), begged for hints, but nada.

Today we spent the better part of two hours walking around this lake. We walked, talked, held hands, laughed, talked about all the foreigners and crazy ass languages being spoken, found our own trails and shared a beer-- and I could not stop thinking about how much I love him. About how lucky I am to have him. We found each other in grade seven and because of the growth from adolescence to adulthood, we understand each other in a way that most couples don't... because we went through that period together.

I am currently in a quaint, adorable, homey cabin, with Chris, who is asleep beside me. He is snoring, and I am soothed by it. (The picture is the cabin we are in.) This is a weekend I needed. Wanted. Did I say needed? Trust me, I am aware that my life is a good one. I am grateful for all that I have, but that does not mean that I am not allowed to be beaten and broken down by every day occurrences. By a job that I am not happy at. Nerves about going back to school. Annoyances at living in my parent's house with my boyfriend of five years. Sometimes I need to get away... I need to be without the stress of pretending or acting that I have it all together.

In Chris's company, I can be me. I was telling Chris earlier, that I cannot imagine me without him. I am so damn comfortable around him. He is his own person, and I am mine... but we are also an extension of each other.

I know every couple feels this way, but I really, truly feel, that Chris and I have something beyond the norm. What we have is deeper than connection, or love, or friendship, or companionship... I think we are soul mates*, and I think we are kindred spirits, and I love Chris.

And this is the second post about him in a row. Next time I'll have something groovier. :)

* Soul mates is a touchy subject. I'll explain my views here. I think there are many people that could be a good fit for you; could make you happy and in love, but I think there is one person out there who is it for you... who shares the other half of your soul... who you are meant to be with.

My man!

2010-07-25T00:35:00.006-06:00

(I love a man holding a baby girl.)

Over the past few months, my relationship with Chris has reached a totally new level. We have been together for five years, best friends for ten, and for a while there it felt like we were stagnant. The love kept growing, but we weren't moving forward in any obvious way. Until my sister broached the subject with my mom, that seeing as Chris spends so much time at our house, why doesn't he have a key? You see, he was paying a ridiculous amount of money to his mom each month for rent... and I say ridiculous because-- he was never there. He slept here, ate here, watched TV here, and only went home to shower and change.

After my sister brought it up with my mom, Chris was given a key to our house. My mom then told me I needed to get rid of clothes that I do not wear, in order to make room for Chris's clothes. By nature, my mom is shy, and is very careful to not step on anyone's toes. This was her way of letting Chris know that he was welcome to stay here. But Chris felt bad... he worried that my family would get sick of him, and he worried about the fact that they did not want rent money from him.

But I explained to him that the reason they didn't want rent money was because they are financially secure, and would prefer Chris use that money to save for a house. They love Chris like their own; he watches sports with my pa, he calls my grandma "Grandma", he makes dinner for my family, he sits with my mom and asks about her work day, and he does whatever he can to help out around the house. And he treats me damn good. My parents love Chris because Chris loves me.

Slowly, he began to bring his things over. He now has his own bureau for clothes; shirts, sweaters, pants, shorts, boxers, and socks... and I have surprisingly embraced the role of washing his clothes for him. He now showers and changes here. My mom hounds me to make snacks for Chris so he doesn't have to worry about what he will eat at work. He has his designated parking spot on our driveway. When I come home from work, I see his car parked outside, and as I pull in, I see him helping my dad cut down trees, or I see the two of them out on the patio, chatting away.

Chris has always worried about intruding. He had a rocky childhood and I think this causes some insecurities about his self-worth in his own mind. It was filled with love and he was raised by a strong women, who even though was not able to buy herself clothing or any other personal items, and sometimes had to choose between milk or bread, loved her son so much that she would sacrifice in order to give him three square meals a day and took the time to teach him morals, values, respect, love, and every other positive attribute that exists. But as I said a few paragraphs up- my parents love Chris. They adore him. If we are all hungry and about to start cooking dinner but Chris isn't here, my parents will make me call Chris to find out when he'll be home, so that we have it on the table, warm, when he arrives.

My parents understand Chris's childhood and his sometimes rocky family situation, and I think this plays a part in why they are so kind to him. I remember once, Chris said to me, "I love your family. They are my family. I always wanted a normal family." It makes me tear up to think about it. How lucky I am to have him. Over the past few months, ever since he has moved in, I have felt an overwhelming amount of love for that man. He is my knight in shining armour. I love his big muscly body that I fit so delicately into. I love when he calls me babe, baby, hon, and sweetie. I love when we wrestle in the morning, my hair a mess, and his eyes caked with gunky sleep. I love his massages, his rough, working-man hands, and when he says out of nowhere, "You are beautiful."

Life is a good thing.

Body image and junk

2010-07-22T23:28:00.009-06:00

Do I have bingo arms? Yes. Do I have a double chin in pictures if I am not careful to point my chin downward? Yes. Do I have to suck in my belly sometimes, and make sure my muffin tops are hidden behind sweaters or looser fitting t-shirts? Yes, and yes. My body is not perfect. There are features about myself that I do not like; my nose, for example-- I think it is way too wide for my face. But over the years, I have entirely accepted and embraced my body.

Last weekend, after having a few drinks, I looked to a friend of mine, who is by his own standards, a man-slut. He does the rating scale... 1-10. That's right. He rates women. Totally shallow and I told him so. He looked me dead center in the eyes and asked, "Do you want an honest answer?" I said: "Of course." So he gave me one. I know there are women who read this blog, and I know women are very competitive, even if it's sub-conscious, so I won't tell you what he rated me at. But I was disappointed.

Would you not be upset with anything less than a 10? Listen-- I know the rating scale is stupid. It does not make any sense. What one man's 10 is, might be another man's 4, and vice versa. After this guy gave me my score, I started crying... the booze induced the tears, no doubt... and then, Chris looked at me and said, "You are a 12 in my eyes." ... Buddy gave me a somber expression, filled with apology for making me cry, and he said: "See, Beth? Don't take it personally. Just because you aren't a 10 to me, doesn't mean you aren't a 10 to somebody else."

My point is this: never, ever, ever feel like you need to mould into societies ideal of what being right, or perfect, or pretty is. You will always find something wrong with you. The real trick is overcoming that bullcrap, and remembering that before TMZ, Entertainment Tonight, Miss USA, and super models came along... average women roamed the Earth at all different shapes and sizes, skin colours, hair colours... and found happiness within themselves. And found love, too.

This is for all you beautiful women out there. Every women.

The Impact of a Single Event

2010-07-20T17:08:00.026-06:00

A few weeks ago my mom and I went to a used book store. Of course there are authors I love and will actively search out, but I also like buying a book blind. I pick up a book that has a catchy title, read the blurb on the back, and if it appeals to me, the book is thereby mine.

Sifting through the rows and rows of books that day with my mom, I pulled one out titled, "The Impact of a Single Event."

It is about a couple who while driving, stumbles across a horrific car crash. They stop to help the injured couple, and in the process find an old ratty journal on the road. The journal contains entries from many different people, spanning 140 years. The novel goes through the journal entries, as well as the life of the man who found the journal on the side of the road. The author is Canadian, and the journal that the novel is based on is real. Oh, and did I mention, the copy I happened to pick up at the bookstore is signed by the author?

(The journal the novel is based on.)

I have two events in my life that are front runners in impacting me the most. One, I won't write about here because it would break my rule of speaking poorly of anyone on Blogland. The second is when I was in high school and my friend Jimmy died as a result of being hit by a drunk driver as he was walking across the street.

I can talk about it now and it doesn't phase me much, but for the people who were around when he died, and for the people who were as close to him as I was; it is understood that it impacted us incredibly. On the cusp of adulthood, where life is not yet serious, and simply revolves around school, parties, and boys-- I was suddenly smacked in the face with death and the lesson that it does not grant favours. Death does not care if you are young, a good person, innocent...

Jimmy could have avoided death if he had only stopped to tie his shoelace, but instead fate brought him into the middle of the street as the drunk driver plowed through him. Up until that point, I had fantasized about having the courage to kill myself, but once he died, I decided I wanted to take my life as far as it could go. I changed a lot over that period.

What single event has impacted your life most?

To my pal

2010-07-15T23:44:00.003-06:00

(Chels & I)

I wrote a week or so ago about the ups and downs I had been facing. It was a tough week, filled with tears, depression, anger, frustration, and a feeling of numbness towards anything positive.

Well-- I am happy to say that I have been consistently happy for the past week. My sis gave me a suggestion: "Why don't you start a countdown? Until your last day of work?" So I penciled in my calendar the tentative last day that I will be working, and suddenly my heart became uplifted and I felt a real smile on my face. The finish line is in sight. I am excited to start school; learn things; meet people; take my first city bus alone; do homework; get good grades... I am nervous-- but ready.

My friend, who works with me, is finishing up her last day at work tomorrow. Her and I decided within weeks of each other, about a year and a half ago, what we wanted to go back to school for. We talked it through with each other before telling other people.

She wants is going to be a make-up artist. She'll be moving to Vancouver in two weeks to pursue her dream goal at a college in Vancouver, and I could not be happier for her! And her leaving makes it so much more real for me; my turn is just around the corner.

But most of all, I want to wish you good luck, lady... I will miss you and I am happy we began this discovery of our future careers together. :)

Jumbled

2010-07-08T20:03:00.023-06:00

These past few weeks have been filled with many ups and downs. I would say that it mostly has to do with the fact that I am going back to school very soon. Although I am handling the pressure pretty well *pats self on back*, it is undoubtedly flooding into areas of my life and causing stress. I mean, I don't know that this is for sure the reason, but I can assume it is. It seems logical. But rather than delve into the bipolar-ish mood swings I have been having, I will share with you some of my new treasures.

After an especially sad day this week, my mom knew I needed some cheering up, and she also knew I needed a new duvet cover to match my new bedroom, so she surprised me with this. :) As well as sheets, pillowcases, and a bed skirt.
I love my mom.

These are hard to see; I apologize. When I went to Thailand four years ago with Chris, a Thai man came up to us while we were on the beach, and he pulled out a booklet containing dozens of beautiful paintings (I think they are silkscreen-esque, actually), and told us that he spent hours upon hours making each one of them. I was interested. He told me that he would sell me a few for a good price since I am Canadian, and he loves Canada. I paid $30 for four, thinking it was a steal of a deal. Weeks later, in Bangkok, Chris and I were walking the streets and saw these exact.same.pictures... by the box-full... for $1 each!! But I love them, and a couple of weeks ago I found where I had tucked them away all those years ago. So my mom framed 'em, and she and my sister figured out the staggered placement for them on my wall.

I love them!

I would normally never buy something like a bathing suit off eBay. I mean, you gotta try these things on to make sure the butt doesn't sag and you don't fall out of the top. But I had a moment of weakness and bought these two items... and holy mother of piss, I am not kidding, I have never had a better fitting bikini in my life! I am extremely happy with my purchase. I spent all of my lunch hour today prancing around my room in it.
Note: my boobs do not fall out. And my butt does not look droopy.
And yes, the bottoms are gold-striped! (I know... AWESOME!)

This is what happens when I get bored, or when I need something to take my mind off of sadness but I don't have a book handy. If you look closely, there are many many many drawings all rolled into that one wacky design.

I challenge you to find the: rake, piece of pizza, wine glass, Tetris pieces, and cat!

And with that...
I hope you are all doing well and I promise to be back to my regular self soon!

Alteration

2010-07-02T01:42:00.017-06:00

Almost one year ago I had breast reduction surgery. At 5’3” and 130 pounds, my bra size was a staggering E or F, depending on the bra. For those who are unaware, that is the equivalent, respectively, of triple or quadruple D. I was unbalanced in a major way, and I spent a sickening amount of time thinking about it.

I developed early. I got my period in fourth grade. I had a hefty chest by grade three, and was nicknamed “Beth Boobstock.” I laugh about it now, but can you imagine a little girl being teased at that age about her chest? And of course the idea of asking my mom for a training bra horrified me, so I sauntered around with wiggling jigglies; aware even at that age that I was not the same as everyone else.

In junior and high school, I remember walking the halls, and having guys leer at me and making comments about my chest. They didn’t mean to be cruel, but I was so so so ashamed of my body that it made me cower inside. I walked around with my arms crossed, big hoodies, and slouched over.

Four years ago, I needed some new t-shirts, so Chris and I went shopping. After thirty minutes of not being able to find anything that fit my unproportioned body, Chris said, “Maybe you should look in the plus sizes.” My heart dropped. That was when it hit me that I hated my body. I couldn’t wear the shirts I wanted to wear. I couldn’t show cleavage because I would spend the entire evening trying to hide it.

Three years ago, my back started aching. I can guarantee that a large part of that is the fact that I have a desk job and I don’t work out. I started going to the chiropractor, but it didn’t help. I slept with heating pads. I did everything I could think to do. Pretty quickly, though, I realized that this was the perfect opportunity for an excuse to get a breast reduction. I was embarrassed to say that I wanted surgery simply for the fact that I hated the appearance of them. How vain. How silly of me to complain about my looks when there are serious problems going on all around the world.

But I knew that I needed it for my personal well-being. Fortunately, I had a friend who had gone through the surgery herself, so she was able to talk me through the whole process. She assured me that it was worth it. I decided to go for it. After speaking to my doctor, I was referred to one of the top surgeons in the province, with 2,000+ breast reduction surgeries under his belt over a 20-year plastic surgery career.

My cousin came with me to the consultation for moral support, but I wouldn’t let her look at me topless. She faced the wall while the surgeon said, “Take off your top and bra, Beth.” He lifted each breast up, looked at the creases underneath, looked at the grooves of my shoulders, and checked out the shape of my nipples (they looked like eggs… gravity took it’s toll). He said I was a candidate. It was real; it was going to happen!

Three or four months later, I still hadn’t heard from them about a date for surgery, so I called them and was told I could have it done in two months time. August 17, ‘09. I was ready! I was scared. Nervous. Excited. One second I wanted to back out, and the next I wanted it over with.

The day came. My mom brought me, and I was unusually chatty on the way there. I think I was trying to keep my mind off of what was to come, so I just talked and talked and talked. We got there, and once I put on those ugly blue hospital booties and was told to take all jewelry out, it hit me. I was getting sliced open. I would be asleep while someone looked at my naked body, cut me open, fiddled around in my insides, cut fat out, cut skin out, reshaped my body, cut my nipples down to size… these doctors were having a casual conversation about their weekend most likely, while I was unconscious on an operating table.

(Me sleeping in the hospital bed after surgery.)

I woke up in a room with other patients, and a Chinese male nurse asking me if I knew what day it was. I remember telling him that he was very kind, and that I hoped he would have a good day. I remember being wheeled back to where my ma was waiting for me. And then I slept. I remember Chris showed up, and I made him fetch me some ginger ale and toast with peanut butter. I entered the hospital at 10am and I was out by 5pm.

(Chris emptying the bloody drains so I wouldn't get an infection.)

(Drains and blood and fun.)

Wouldn’t it be nice if we could change anything about our lives that we didn’t like, as simply as I altered my body?

Cats and dogs

2010-06-29T20:06:00.003-06:00

I am looking through a hazy window covered in raindrops. I can hear it pelting the outside walls that make up the structure of our house. The sun is out, but is mostly covered by clouds. The thunder is shaking the house and the lightening is lighting it. I feel, perhaps, the most relaxed that I have felt in a long while. I wandered the streets with my mom this evening, before the thunderstorm started, and I bought three books from a used bookstore. I then went on a drive-- to think, but I didn't really get to think, because I was focusing on the noise my crappy windshield wipers make, and on trying to see the road in front of me passed all the rain and darkness. I am giving you a play by play of the weather, but I am also explaining my life.

Happy camper

2010-06-23T08:04:00.009-06:00

I am sitting here with my cafe mocha, reflecting on all of the good that has happened in my life in the past few months rather than all the crap I could do without. I sometimes allow myself to get so caught up in the negativity that I do not even realize I am swimming in it until I come up for a breath of fresh air and taste the stuff that life is worth living for.

On Monday evening, Chris and I took a walk to a little store up the street called Twisted Yogurt. It was such a nice treat. The prices are outrageous but it was worth it even for the time I got to spend with Chris. We walked up the street hand in hand, and when we saw my neighbour with his dog, my neighbour asked how we were doing. "Great, just going for some frozen yogurt," I said with eager anticipation. He smiled at me, looked at his dog, and asked him, "How about it, Buddy? You want some yogurt?" Buddy panted and ran around in a circle or two. That small exchange of words and understanding between human and animal put a smile on my face.

Chris and I decided to get our yogurt to go, and so on the way home, we stopped at a park to eat our snack at a picnic table. Two little boys were playing in the park, doing the spider on the swing set. You remember the spider? I quietly said to Chris, "Do you remember when life was so simple that it was okay to do that? It didn't mean you were gay and you wouldn't get teased for it?" He nodded as he shoveled watermelon-flavoured frozen yogurt into his mouth.

Something happens as we grow up, where innocent fun is no longer applicable. I try to break the rules. I sometimes don't act my age. I say things that maybe a twenty-three-year-old woman should not say. And by the way, I don't consider myself a woman. I am a girl. I find pleasure in small things, like when a butterfly lands close to me, I like to see how close I can get to it before it takes off for flight. I run through the sprinkler. I skip around my house, I sing in the shower, and I go out of my way to irritate the people I love. Childish behavior, perhaps, but it keeps me young. In a world where adults are supposed to act and behave a certain way, I think it is important to remember the kid in you. Once upon a time, we were all untainted by the pressures of society.

Story time

2010-06-22T07:59:00.011-06:00

My friend called me yesterday and said, "Have I got a story for you!" His stories are always filled with excitement. I am unsure if it is the fact that his stories really are so great, or if he is just exceptionally good at telling them. He puts the punchlines at all the best spots, he branches off but never so much so that he loses his focus, and he always paints a picture in my mind. I will call him Luke, just so it makes this story a bit easier to understand.

Luke and his friends grew up in the country, where it was common practice to party in fields, cow tip, and steal road signs. In a location where shopping malls and parks are simply not available, they were left to their own devices to find something to keep themselves busy. As they've grown up, their hobby has switched from running from the cops, to buying unroad-worthy cars and driving them around fields. On Friday, Luke bought a beater from his friend, with the intention of it becoming his new toy. Because it wouldn't be leaving the property of his farm fields, he didn't see the need to insure it, which meant no plates. On Saturday, Luke was taking it home and was on the gravel road about a mile from his house, with his uninsured lemon. His neighbour, a 40-something-year-old man, was watching Luke with a curious eye. Luke neared the man's home, when out of nowhere, the man blocked Luke's path on the gravel road with his tractor. Luke stopped and thought to himself, "Maybe he needs help?"... So the man hopped out of his tractor and ambled over to Luke wearing cut-off shorts, a wife-beater stained with mustard, and beat up loafers with the soles unattached (just kidding, I have no clue what he was wearing). Luke rolled down the window of his shit box, and this is when Luke noticed that the man was carrying a baseball bat. The man yelled, "What are you doing driving without plates!?" and suddenly proceeded to smash Luke's windshield. Stunned, Luke didn't know what to do. It took a few seconds for his brain to kick into gear, at which point he reversed out of there like a bat out of hell, kicking up dust with his bald tires, while the lunatic chased Luke with his bat in the air. Fortunately, Luke was able to maneuver his way home through a caved in windshield.

None of my stories are anywhere near that enthralling. The best I've got is when I was younger, my mom sent me to my room for misbehaving, but I really wanted to be in the kitchen where all the action of baking chocolate chip cookies was going down. I made a train out of my books, with the first one touching the carpet in my bedroom, and connecting them all the way to the kitchen and then plopping my wooden chair on the last book, saying with a smile on my face, "I am technically still in my bedroom." I mean it's cute right, but it's no crazed-hillbilly-carrying-a-weapon-and-smashing-in-my-car type deal.

Is storytelling a gift? Are you born with it, or does it develop? I used to say I refrained from storytelling because I was so shy. But Luke is shy, and he is killer at it. True, his life is ten times more exciting than mine, so he's at least got a starting point. Trust me, I'm not about to sit there and talk about my leisurely drive home, and how at a red light I saw the cutest little girl walking across the street with her puppy Bulldog.

I wish I could tell long drawn-out stories and hold people's interest, know where to talk slower or quicker, when to raise or lower my voice an octave for effect, and feel comfortable with all eye's on me. But that is not the case, so I will forever be the girl on the edge of my seat, listening to everyone else's stories, laughing at all the right spots, and wishing I could tell my own. Ah well... gotta take what you can in this life.

I work for the weekend

2010-06-21T10:36:00.002-06:00

I had my first panic attack in months last night. However annoying it was, I am proud of myself for talking myself out of it so quickly. Either I have learned new methods of coping, or this medication really is working. What was it about, you ask? Well, the short answer is: problems at work. Drama, confrontation, anger; all of these unpleasant emotions make me feel incredibly timid and uncomfortable. How did I put my mind at ease? I said out loud to myself, "Don't let this get to you. It's a shitty job that you don't care about anyway." And just like that, I was calm and ready to face the workweek.

It also helps knowing that my weekend was so great. It reinforced in my mind that life is about the good times, and surrounding yourself with people who matter. Work is a means to get money and that is it. Any drama that unfolds there should be left at the office. It is a toxic environment to work in, and I am doing a job that is not who I am at all. Reminding myself that I have only got two months left fills my mind with pretty pictures. Pictures of a happier me, going to school for something that will hopefully make me feel more complete.

I had Friday off, so I did what makes me happiest; I read. The sun was shining, I was relaxed, and so I enjoyed my mini-staycation at home. On Saturday morning, Chris and I went to a parade a few towns over, where Chris's youngest cousin was walking the parade with his football team. The players had water guns, and so they were soaking the crowd. The weather was great, and it felt good to be there for him... he's a good kid. After that, Chris and I went back to his grandma and dad's place. We sat outside on the deck with drinks in our hands and food in our mouths, talking about anything and everything. I love them. And besides all that, I got some colour! I was just getting used to being the only white-assed person in town, because tanning is so difficult for my pasty self, when I saw pink skin staring back at me from the mirror. I almost prefer being super white, so I'll have to remember the SPF from now on.

On Saturday night, my old best friend called and asked if Chris and I wanted to go to the bar for some drinks with her. I asked her if she'd prefer coming to my house for a fire. I am being responsible and trying to save money. So she came over, and we caught up on the years of us growing more and more distant. Her boyfriend lives on the other side of the country, and with the weekly plane tickets bought to see each other, she has decided that she will be moving to Toronto. I can't say I am surprised. She has been with him for a while, and is the type of person who is willing to do anything for love, even if it means leaving her friends, family, and life as she knows it behind. Chris decided to take the couch so that her and I could sleep in my bed. I woke up at noon on Sunday morning alone in my bed, with a text received from her at 9am saying, "I had so much fun last night. I didn't want to wake you this morning, you looked so peaceful."

Peaceful? I will have to remember that the next time I feel my mind spiraling out of control with anxiety.

Friendship

2010-06-18T21:54:00.025-06:00

I have said time and time again that I will not name names here unless it is in a positive light and I have been given permission to write their name. In this case, the chick has no clue, so she shall remain nameless.

This gal's father passed away years ago; I would peg it at fifteen years since he's been gone. She received a hefty chunk of change as a result of her dad's death... life insurance, inheritance, whatever you wish to call it. The cash flow my friend received was legally controlled by her mother until she turned eighteen, at which point the responsibility was turned over to her. She is now twenty-eight.

She is very private about her inheritance, and the fact that she will never have to work to support herself. I have known her for almost ten years and I would say that while we don't hang out regularly, we are fairly close and can talk to each other about anything. She adores my boyfriend, we have the same friends, and we invite each other to parties often enough. I for years had been wondering how she could afford to be a perpetual student without working to pay her way, how she could afford to buy a house, and all of the other luxuries that she indulges in. It was roughly one month ago when another friend of mine accidently let the cat out of the bag and told me where this gal's money comes from. Inside, I was shocked- but outwardly, I presented an air of "I totally know what you're talking about."

It was two weeks ago; I was up late online, talking to this friend of mine with the endless supply of cash, when I told her that I knew her dirty little secret. She wasn't upset with me. She said she trusted me and asked that it be kept between us. And this is why I won't drop names, not that any of you know her anyway. She demanded to know who told me, but I refused to tell her. I hate getting involved in drama. Instead, we played the game where I won't say yes or no, but if she guesses correctly, I will give a sign. She figured it out pretty quickly, and wasn't nearly as upset as I thought she would be. She only realized that she needed to re-evaluate who she could trust.

Trust is a funny thing, isn't it? There have been issues at work this past week among girls in the office. Women contain a bountiful amount of Estrogen, and when you put a whole wack of it in an office building, there are bound to be problems. If you think about it, you spend half of your waking moments each day at work. That is a lot of time, so you hope that you get along with your co-workers and that you can trust them with who you are. You open yourself up, because that's what the human experience is about; connection. But unfortunately we get burned more often than we form a true friendship. So anyway, that is what has happened essentially. Not to me, but to my friend, and I will not stand for my friend getting shit on, so to speak. I have stayed out of the drama as much as I possibly can. But through this whole process, I have realized that trust is so. damn. important.

I just finished reading The Girl With The Dragon Tattoo, and on page 723 the protagonist says, "Friendship- my definition- is built on two things. Respect and trust. Both elements have to be there. And it has to be mutual. You can have respect for someone, but if you don't have trust, the friendship will crumble." And this is precisely what has happened at work. In our department there is respect. We respect and admire each other as people. It's the trust that seems to be the issue. And so, I have realized that trusting my instinct is the best way to go. They always say a woman should trust her gut and her intuition.

True friendship is so hard to find. But when it is there, it is like a warm, fuzzy blanket that you can wrap yourself in and know that it will keep you warm. I love my friends, and this whole mess has made me appreciate you all even more. Thanks for trusting me and for letting me trust you.

Your mask is falling off

2010-06-17T14:21:00.002-06:00

Gossip. We all do it. I'd love to say that reincarnation exists, and that with each new life, I become closer and closer to perfection, and that I am on my last life and therefore my heart and soul is so pure that I rise above petty gossip. But I have my weak moments, where it is all too easy to sink into the vicious cycle of following the pack, where I make fun of someone as a form of entertainment. Is there such a thing as good gossip? Perhaps. Say I hear through the grapevine that someone is pregnant, and I go around telling everyone I see about it... that could be considered good. But it's really not, because it is not my news to share. The pregnant lady will tell who she wants, when she wants.

And then there is the evil, vindictive gossip. The bad gossip spreads and brings hatred into your heart... it transforms you into a bitter person. Why would anyone want to bash someone, when they can just as easily focus their energy on being positive, kind, and looking for the good in people? It is easy to gang up on someone, and make them feel like crap... but if you've ever had rumours going around about you, or if you've ever been the topic of gossip, you know the feeling sucks. You feel ashamed, embarrassed, unwanted, pissed off, and maybe it even lead to you becoming depressed. The world is made up of all sorts of people, and I think it is important for adults, especially adults, to treat each other with respect and not fall prey to gossip.

Is it lack of empathy? Does it allow people to feel connected who would otherwise feel alone? It is common ground, really, to sit there and speak poorly of someone. You are talking about someone else's faults, someone else's imperfections, and that is so much simpler than looking inward at your own faults and imperfections.

Do you remember the Golden Rule? It was probably the first rule taught to each of us as soon as we were old enough to understand language. "It is arguably the most essential basis for the modern concept of human rights. A key element of the golden rule is that a person attempting to live by this rule treats all people, not just members of his or her in-group, with consideration." Yet time and time again, this rule falls short. The things we learn early on in life are completely forgotten by the time we reach adulthood (if we haven't practiced the lesson and engraved it into our being). I learned long division in grade three... you ask me to do it now and I will give you a blank stare. I knew about electricity and current, and wind patterns, and the process of a tadpole turning into a frog by the time I was in the sixth grade... that is all gone now. But one thing I have held onto is the Golden Rule, because it struck a cord with me early on, and I am constantly reminding myself to do unto others as I would have them do unto me.

Where do you stand on gossip? Do you do it? When you become aware of it, how do you feel, and do you make a conscious effort to stop? Or do you think it's innocent fun; not a big deal?

Company

2010-06-17T08:34:00.002-06:00

I am not on birth control. I have tried a few different brands, and I would either forget to take the pill more often than I'd remember, or I would bleed every other week. Plus, honestly, I just don't know how I feel about it. Sure, I'm on anti-anxiety and anti-depression meds, but for some reason I am not comfortable taking birth control. It scares me. Was that random or what?

I only know when I am about to start my monthly blood loss by asking my friend when she last had her period. Usually mine starts right after she finishes. I felt the signs yesterday; crampy all over and a sense of dread. "Jess, when am I going to start bleeding?" I ask her as we are making cafe mochas in the lunchroom at work. "Mine ended last Sunday," she says. I know mine will be arriving shortly.

Later that day, I am taking a leak before I hop in the tub with the best-book-ever, The Girl With The Dragon Tattoo, and BAM!, aunt flow has arrived. Oh well, it happens. At least I'm not pregnant!

So, around 6pm, my friend comes to pick me up. He drives my car to the bar, and I love this bar because it's got a revolving door. We both squeeze in the same slot; it's a tight fit but it makes for a much better entrance when we are practically falling all over the place as we make our way through the door because we were stepping on each other's feet as we were shuffling in. So we make it in, and we are standing there like two idiots. "Let's go sit over there," he says, pointing to the right side. I point to the left and say it's closer to the bathroom. "But no one is over there," he says to me, and starts walking towards the right, where he wants to be. I stand my ground. "Rock, paper, scissors." I pick rock, him paper. "Best out of three?" I ask. I consecutively win the next two rounds, so we make our way to the left side of the bar, and sit down. But his chair has got arms and mine doesn't... so I find another chair with arms and I switch it with my armless one. I like to rest my elbows.

We order three pounds of wings, five ranch, and we each have a Canadian; him a bottle, me a pint. I have not been following the World Cup, but it's on the big screen, and I can't seem to peel my eyes away. My friend follows the World Cup; she updates me on the standings, as if I know what she's talking about. She is the one who earlier that day told me I would be starting my rag soon. So we eat our food, I pay because it is my turn this time, I quickly go to the bathroom, and while I am peeing, I see a fork on the bathroom floor. What on earth is a fork doing here?

He drives my car home, we hug goodbye, and then he is off and I am walking into my house. I fall asleep, but damnit, I forgot to take my prescribed painkillers. I need to take these as soon as my rag starts, or else the cramps are crippling. I wake up at 5:30am this morning from the pain, and I think, "SHIT. I have to work in an hour and a half and all I want to do is curl into a ball." But I can't stay home, because I have tomorrow off. So I wash down two pills with a sip of water, start a bath, making sure the water is as hot as I can physically handle (heat helps), and I settle in for a good hour. I must have fallen asleep, because I woke up at 6:30am, with Thank God, no cramps. Thank you warm water and medication. Thank you, thank you. I can get through this workday just fine.

Money bag

2010-06-16T13:32:00.010-06:00

Lots of happy money news on my front! As you are all well aware, I am going back to school this fall as a full-time student. Unfortunately I will have to work part-time, at least for the first year, because I didn't budget accordingly over the past twelve months. Ideally, I wanted a nice chunk of cash in my bank to get me through the first year, but it did not happen.

Namely, I have been worried about how I will afford my car payments while in school. $331/month for car payment, $154/month for car insurance, anywhere between 40-$60/month for gas, and $80/month (highballing) for cell phone bill. On the high end, that is $625 per month, and that doesn't even include personal spending money, oil changes, or birthday and Christmas gifts. I was thinking about taking out a loan to cover my costs, but because my parents are paying for my schooling, I don't qualify for a student loan. This meant that my only option was taking out a regular loan, but when I am already paying off my car loan, this idea is senseless.

Well, hold your horses, because I have good news! My sister figured out that if I could manage using only $100/week for personal use, and everything else that wasn't already allocated for bills would go towards extra cash on my car loan, I could almost have my car paid off come school time. But it isn't quite enough.

Thankfully, I have $2000 sitting in an RRSP fund, which I started three years ago and have been contributing $50/month to. It's not a lot, but I am thanking my boyfriend for pushing me to get one. That money is coming out, and because I will be a full-time student, I qualify for the Lifelong Learning Fund, which means I can cash out my RRSPs tax free (huge deal!), provided I pay it back in full within fifteen years, and at that point it will go back into my RRSPs.

So not only will my car be paid off within the next month and a half, but get this... I got a letter in the mail today from my insurance company, and because it has been five years since my car accident, my insurance drops from $154/month to $113/month starting June 30th. That is more than $40/month!! So not only will I be saving $40 extra/month, but I can also kiss the $331/monthly car payments sayonara!

While in school, I will only have to worry about $253/month in bills vs. the $625/month I was facing a few short months ago.

I love having a money goal and reaching it!

I tawt I taw a puddy tat

2010-06-15T07:08:00.006-06:00

My brother recently moved back home. With him, he brought his cat Thoroughgood, a one-year-old terror. Just joking, he is an inquisitive cat that plays fetch, loves the human touch, wants to be friends with our other cat (who wants no part of it)... and he has balls. Well, he had balls- until yesterday morning.

My brother was opposed to neutering Thoroughgood because he felt it was cruel. If at all, he wanted it done chemically. Only once my sister and I informed my parents regarding what happens with male cats who aren't fixed, did they decide it needed to be done. But my brother wasn't won over... yet.

That was until this past weekend. At around 1am on Friday night/Saturday morning, I walked into the family room and saw Thoroughgood spraying on our carpet to mark his territory, as unfixed male cats will do. In the process of me racing over to scold him, he climbed his little self up onto the arm of the couch and started dry humping like there was no tomorrow. I was horrified, and was worried he would then proceed to rape our female cat, Gabrielle, so I locked him in the furnace room with food, water, and a couple of blankets.

I was up until 4am; trying to secure the door so that Thoroughgood could not open it. That kitty has some strength, let me tell you. The doors in our house slide open, so he pries his paws between the doorframe and the door itself, and he uses all his might to create an opening big enough to slip through. This went on for hours; him escaping, me putting him back. Eventually I felt like a jail warden, so I decided to let him out. I figured one more night of freedom was okay.

I didn't want to go behind my brother's back and rat his cat out to my parents, so I left him a note that night explaining the trouble his man-cat got into. The next morning, he spoke to my sister and said he had never seen Thoroughgood behave that way, and he finally realized that his kitty needed a castration. My sister and I told my parents about what I had witnessed.

My mom called the vet immediately and was told he could be brought in Monday morning for testicular removal. So yesterday morning, my dad took Thoroughgood to the vet. It's sad really, to knowingly put your animal through pain, but it had to be done. When I got home from work, there he was, drugged up and ball-less in a heap on the floor, so I soothed him and told him that even though he no longer has balls, he is still a strong, alluring, handsome man-cat.

Fix your pets, folks, if you want to keep your house intact.

Grams

2010-06-14T08:58:00.007-06:00

For years now, my grandma has been working on personalized photo albums for each of her grandkids (there are five of us). Worried that she would pass away before they were ever finished, my mom and aunt helped finish them last weekend. In the end, each of us received three albums, and holy smokes they are beautiful!

My sister was in town over the weekend, so this was the perfect time for us to get them. My grandma came over on Sunday for a breakfast of fruit salad, bacon, and waffles, and then we looked through our new albums. There were pictures of my great-great-grandma and grandpa as children, photos of my mom as a baby, the newspaper clipping from when I was born, pictures I have never seen of myself, and towards the end she included pictures of each of our significant others, because they are now part of the family. It really is amazing, and I kept thinking while leafing through the pages that if the house ever burnt down, these three photo albums are the items I would grab first.

I love my grandma ----------------------------------------------------- that much.

Tense

2010-06-11T14:39:00.000-06:00

It is important to live in the moment, but sometimes the moment I am in is no fun, so I can't help but think about the future moments I will be in. Like when I get off work today and my weekend begins.

You can't have good without bad, happiness without sadness, love without hate, and I guess in that way you can't have exciting moments without dull moments. But these dull moments are a drag... my mind disassociates itself from my body, and I am aching for the sunshine and the pleasure of doing what I want... instead I am stuck in this stuffy office with the noise of fax machines, chatter, fingers on keyboards, and I find myself counting down the seconds, minutes, and finally hours, until the moment I can walk out of here and feel myself immediately relax.

Hazy brain

2010-06-09T18:31:00.007-06:00

Sorry blogosphere, I’ve been MIA this past week. To be honest, I haven’t felt the urge to write much of anything, and I knew that if I did post just for the sake of saying something, it would have been a boring read. You ever feel like that? Like your creativity well suddenly dries up? Honestly, I am still not feeling insightful about anything, but I want to stop in and say something so that none of you forget about me.

I had the day off work today, because I went to orientation for school. I was nervous, but in a good way. It all went smoothly, and taking this step engraved it even more deeply than it already was into my brain that in a few mere months I will no longer be a full-time employee, but a full-time student. The scary thing was, at this orientation, they were talking about how important it is to have a solid idea in the first year about what career you want to end up in once you're done, as each year of this program gets more and more specific… publishing, editing, journalism, advertisement, speech writing, novel writing, magazine writing, technical writing (damn, don't I make all that sound so exciting?); and the list only gets larger. It is overwhelming to have to plan a schedule that is geared toward one of those areas, when I am not entirely sure what courses I will enjoy. I mean, I have a sort of, half-assed idea of what I want to one day do professionally… but life changes so fast, and I am doubting that what I want to do today will be the same thing that I want to do tomorrow. At least the course load for first year students is pretty much set in stone… I will only get to select a few options, which is a good thing… I will dabble a little in all areas, and by year two should have a clearer understanding of what my strengths and interests are.

(Object in picture is smaller than it appears)

I had a feeling I was going to be adrenaline-filled after orientation, which I was, so Chris and I decided to do something with our day off. We went for lunch to a place neither of us had been, and then we went to the mall and I used a gift card that had been collecting dust in my wallet for months to buy three perfumes, and Chris bought me a pair of sunglasses just because he loves me.

I promise a better read next time.

Once was lost but now is found

2010-06-03T08:56:00.006-06:00

Over the past few years, I have lost myself. It is so hard to have your footing when you are my age. Or maybe it is just me. You go to school for twelve years of your life, and you have this set idea of who you are, and that idea is largely based on your peer group. You worry about your appearance, boys, where the next party is and if you are invited; but most of all, you want to be liked. That is essentially the extent of responsibility for a K-12 student. And then you graduate, and suddenly you are thrown into the real world, where it is expected you will be a contributing member of society, and have all your ducks in a row. You go from being a child to being an adult over night. I have been faking it for years. Five years after high school graduation, and I am just now coming around.

I used to have really strong friendships that involved all the deep talks I crave, midnight walks, and an overall sense of connectedness. I have always been a deep thinker. But as I "grew" up, I got lost, and I gave up on those friendships because those people knew me so well and suddenly I didn't know myself at all. I felt like a fraud; I would try to be that same ol' Beth around them, but it was all pretense, and eventually I got sick of the game and I realized that being around those people made me feel like shit. Because I didn't know who I was and they seemed to have it all together.

Lately, though, I have been trying to rebuild those friendships. They fell by the wayside as we grew up, as our interests changed, and as I totally lost myself. Those treasured friendships hold a piece of who I was; pieces of who I still am but forgot about. And maybe they were just as lost as I was.

I am afraid that one day I will be that adult who doesn't have true friendships, or who doesn't talk about the things in life that truly matter. So much of conversation in this world is just noise to fill the air. I want substance, I need substance. I am on this planet to influence change in at least one person's life; that is all I really want, and so I am going to cut the bullcrap and really connect with people... and most of all, I am thankful that my old friends held on, waiting for the moment when I was ready to come crawling back to them with my tail between my legs.

I am on autopilot

2010-06-01T14:04:00.020-06:00

My work day is often filled with huge gaps of time where my mind goes blank. My job is mundane, mind-numbing, repetitive, and the closest thing I can compare it to is jail. (Obviously) Not in the sense that there are bars or guards, but it feels like a mental prison. My creativity is zapped; I am unable to do the things that make me feel productive. I know, work is not a playground, but is it too much to ask that I enjoy what I do? Hence, the reason I am going back to school.

But anyway, back to my mind going blank. This gives me ample time to think. I think about life, aspirations, catastrophic events that will never really happen (watching YouTube videos last week about 2012 lead me to the sudden knowledge that I need to build a bunker), sickness (I have become a skilled hypochondriac over the course of my employment here; lots of free time equals opportunity to brood over non-existent health problems), my past, my future, the breed of dog I want and what I will name him (Rupert), if I should shower right after work or right before bed, and as you can see, it becomes quite ridiculous.

I am currently thinking about Sunday evening, when I was being a pest and tickling Chris when he was clearly trying to focus on the T.V. He got annoyed, gently pushed me off the couch, and as I always do, I completely over-exaggerated it to make him feel bad, and I wound up with rug burn on my elbow. Boy, didn't I feel like a dumby.

(Me pinching a statue's nipple. Highly inappropriate.)

I am also thinking back to my time in Thailand. I remember stepping out of the airport and into the Thailand humidity, and immediately my lungs closed up because it was like a sauna. My jeans were stuck to my legs in seconds. Chris and I arrived at some random hotel that was $30/night, which is expensive by Thailand standards, but you'd never know it was fancy because the couch was stained and the bedding felt like a brillo pad. We were too excited to sleep, so we went to the lounge which was attached to the hotel, sat outside in rickety plastic chairs, listened to locals talk to each other in their language, while drinking our beers and talking about how amazing it was that we were actually here, and imagining all the things we would see and do, and we especially talked about the humidity. And now jump forward three years, with me sitting outside on Chris's deck in the middle of July at 3am in the morning. It brought me right back to that first night in Thailand. Where I live, it is by no means humid. Infact, it is dry dry dry and my skin is without fail, always showing the effects of it. But that night, it was plus 30, with no breeze, and it was so humid. I sat outside in Chris's backyard, in Canada, thousands of miles away from that lounge in Thailand, and I thought that sometimes you can take a vacation without leaving home.

My mind is always on vacation when I am at work.

Random junk

2010-05-28T09:21:00.003-06:00

My friend Chelsea thought it would be neat to share 16 things about herself that no one knows, and then asked that her readers do the same. So here you go, Chels! (And for any of you who are up to the challenge...)

1. For as long as I can remember, I take a bath, read a book for at least 30 minutes, and then hop in the shower. It's my "me" time. This may not be a green or environmentally conscious thing to do, but I do my part for the planet in other ways so this evens it all out... I hope.

2. I went to Thailand a few years ago with Chris. We planned on staying for 2 months, but came home 2 weeks early due to home sickness and we got to the point where we felt we had done and saw everything we really wanted to. Nobody knew that we were coming back early, so I expected to walk into my house and have my family be thrilled! Well, we got in pretty late, so my mom was asleep by that point, but my dad wasn't, so I went downstairs to surprise him. He looked at me, said, "Oh, hi!" and went back to his computer game. I cried and cried. But the next morning, my mom told me that she was so happy that I was back, that she sat there for two hours and watched me sleep. That made up for it.

3. I have something like twenty journals. They all have at least 1 page written in them. I used to want a different journal for different moods, so I'd have 10 going at a time. Then I stopped writing in them all together, so I had to go out and buy new ones because I couldn't pick up after years of stagnancy and go back to my old journal, that held the old me, and my old life experiences.

4. I met my first boyfriend online. We chatted for three months before meeting. It taught me a lot about seeing people for who they really are, because when we met, I discovered that he stuttered, had acne, and walked weird because as a child his hips never formed, so in the sixth grade he went through major surgery to get fake ones put it. If I had met him in person before ever knowing him online, I don't think I would have gone out with him.

5. I think vegetables are gross if they don't have dip on them or if they aren't cooked, especially broccoli.

6. When I was younger, I really thought I could see ghosts of little girls. I would look for them in trees while I was sitting in the passenger seat of my dad's car, and I would start crying for those poor girls who were murdered.

7. My cousin and I used to record ourselves on cassette tape. We were newscasters, so we'd write out our stories, recite them into the recordering tape, and then while we played house, we would listen to the news. It made it more real.

8. I was 14 when I puked from booze for the first time. I had 2 and a half coolers of Smirnoff Ice. I thought it would be a good idea to take a bath. I passed out in the tub, and woke up way later, sitting in cold water, with puke all over my chest. Eeeeew.

9. I always say I don't like dancing, but I dance when I am alone.

10. I stole from stores when I was younger, but I found multiple wallets and always returned them fully intact. I find that strange. Why would I steal from a store but not a person?

11. I have a super duper difficult time falling asleep with any noise around me whatsoever, so I therefore make Chris face away from me, and I put a pillow ontop of my head. Once I am asleep I am fine, but until then... I need complete and utter silence.

12. I am such a huge homebody that when I started hanging out with a girl in junior high, my mom personally thanked her mom, saying, "Thank you for having Beth over, I am happy that she finally has a friend." Embarrassing!!

13. I wanted to be just like my big (and only) sister when I was growing up. If I was wearing a red shirt and black shorts, and she was wearing a blue shirt and jeans, I would go change into a blue shirt and jeans. I would ask if we could play "Princess & Slave"- where she is the princess and I am her slave. I would clean her room just so that I could be around her. And sometimes, she would let me sleep on the floor in her bedroom at night. Every so often I would sneak into her bed.

14. I used to have hyperhidrosis. It's where you sweat excessively. -30 and I would have a big circle of sweat on my shirt under my armpits. But I don't really get it anymore. I think it was brought on by anxiety. Once I started my meds and the anxiety dissipated, the sweating stopped.

15. In the ninth grade, my friend and I were sneaking out of my house to go meet Chris. My bedroom is upstairs, so we had to go on the roof and jump off. I jumped into a bush, but I really damaged it, so I told my friend she'd have to jump onto a cement pad. I had friends who had snuck on my roof before and I was certain that's how they got off. She was afraid she would break something, but I assured her that she would be okay. Sure enough, she landed, we heard her leg crack, and she spent the next twenty minutes laying on the ground, puking from shock and alcohol, until we came up with an excuse for what to tell my parents. We told them she slipped on a patch of ice. Hahaha, we never did meet up with Chris that night...

16. Sometimes I look up at the sky and the stars, and I let my mind wander to the galaxy and the universe, and the fact that we really have no idea how big it is or what's out there. It becomes too much for my mind to grasp, thinking of all the possibilities, and what does "infinite" REALLY mean, I mean... how can it NEVER end? So then I freak myself out, go back inside, and busy myself with something else to calm down.

... Tag, you're it!

The ugly monster- stress

2010-05-26T08:33:00.009-06:00

Stress. The ugly, annoying sympton of a build up of emotions. It's been said that stress can be good. It can help you meet a deadline, some people work best under pressure, and stress can force you to step outside of your comfort zone and experience life in a whole new light. But what about when it's not good? Because, boy oh boy, more often than not, stress is a pain in my butt.

Picture me, as a child, crying about going to swimming lessons because I am afraid that I will fail the course (and I haven't even begun it yet). I keep myself awake for nights on end, imagining the worst. It is all I can think about. It is making me sick. I won't know anyone in my class. What if no one likes me? Such nonsense to worry about something so miniscule, but I had built it up in my head that it was going to be horrible, so of course that is exactly what it turned out being: horrible. I passed, but I went into it thinking the worst, so I trudged through it and hated every second of it. Imagine if I had gone into it feeling excited?

Stress can spread like fire through your life, touching everything in its path, until one day you wake up and realize that you haven't enjoyed anything in a really, really long time. I still get stressed about silly things, but I am also a lot better at talking myself out of it, and I am a master at the mantra, "If you can't do anything to change it, then don't stress about it. It will only make it worse. Just let it go. Stress won't do a lick of good."

I start school in a few months. Sure, I am nervous. I am nervous about my financial situation, getting lost between classes, failing classes, not making any friends; I could go on forever. But being stressed about these things won't get me anywhere. I will somehow find the money to cover my bills. I may get lost, but I will know my way around within a week. I may fail a class, but if so, it will be because I tried my hardest and couldn't grasp it, so I will simply take it again. Who knows, maybe I will make friends, and maybe I won't. If I do, great. If not, well, I have friends already, so I wouldn't really be missing out on anything. You see? I have gotten quite good at minimizing stress. All it really takes is some positive, reinforcing thoughts.

In order to have some sort of hold over stress in your life, I truly believe you need to have at least a half-assed idea of who you are. You need to be in touch with yourself and your feelings. And you need to have passion. Passion for anything. You need to be centered, at least somewhat. And you need to be conscious of when stress is poking its ugly head out, so you can deal with it before it becomes overwhelming.

When I am stressed, I either a) take a bath and read, or b) go for a nice, long drive.

How do you handle stress?

Weirdness as I see it

2010-05-25T09:10:00.004-06:00

As Chris and I were falling asleep last night, he groggily said to me, "I think sleep is an evolutionary mistake." Him and I always talk about the things in life that are strange. I mean, if you really sit down and think about it... isn't sleep odd? This may sound crazy, so please try and come down to my level; detach yourself from everything that is normal and just think about this. We lay flat on our back, or side, or stomach, with our eyes closed, and then our breathing slows, and eventually our brain stops functioning like it does in our waking moments, and we just lie there for hours. Time passes us by and we aren't even aware of it. I always think of sleeping as recharging. I imagine cables attaching themselves to the orifices in my body and pumping me full of energy so I can make it through the next day. It is strange.

And dancing. When you dance, you are standing there, moving your arms and legs. You stand there and you wiggle. It is so weird. I don't dance... I used to think it was because I didn't know how. But we can all move, right? I think the reason I don't dance is because I don't understand it. I mean, I know people get enjoyment from it, and it makes people feel good, but I feel perfectly fine reading a good book or sitting outside watching the wind move the leaves. Dancing is weird. I don't get it.

Also, words. Who came up with words? If you say any word over and over again, and focus on the movements your mouth and tongue have to make in order to make those sounds... it is weird. Honeydew. Circle. Magic. Wasps. Bubble. Eradicate. And then throw some words together and now you have a sentence, which allows you to communicate with people who know how to make the same sounds as you.

I was also thinking last week about how strange it would be for a Caucasian person's first language to be Mandarin. Yet it isn't strange at all when a Chinese person's first language is English. And by the way, isn't Caucasian a weird word? There is no Asian in a Caucasian.

What do you think is just downright strange?

Celebrity crushes

2010-05-21T13:55:00.011-06:00

I was talking to a friend earlier about how I received my copy of the book Shutter Island in the mail today. He was shocked that I would waste my money on such "junk", considering the movie didn't live up to the expectations, in most people's eyes. Well, I stuck up for my purchase, saying that the book is always better than the movie. And maybe the translation wasn't great, but the director (or whoever the big guy is with the money) would not have had the budget for a big name like Leo if the book wasn't exceptional. Clearly there had to be a lot of support in order for that movie to be made. Agreed? So. I am happy with my purchase and I am sure the book will be great. I've heard good things about it.

I stuck up for the movie, too, incase you are wondering. I backed it up with the fact that as a pre-teen, my room was covered from top to bottom, wall to wall, with pictures of Leo. My first online nickname was LeoLuv. And I saw Titanic in the theatre 13 times. I will applaud any movie that man is in. We all have our celebrity crushes, do we not?

I've been crushing on Robin Williams for quite a few years now. There is something so appealing about him. And it's not even his humour that really attracts me... weird, right, since that is what he is known for. When he does serious roles, and stops being funny for a second during an interview, he just seems so... intriguing. I find him really, really hot. (Totally watch What Dreams May Come if you've never seen it. Best.Movie.Of.All.Time. The book is just as great.)

Sometimes it's fun to live in a fantasy world, where you imagine yourself seated across the table from someone that you know you will never have the chance to actually meet. To imagine what that conversation would be like. Who would you want to sit across from at a dinner table?

Am I completely nuts?

Let it rain, let it pour

2010-05-20T19:39:00.008-06:00

With May Long Weekend upon us, the citizens of our little bubble were disappointed that a fire ban was in effect due to dry weather, and forest fires.

But as I was running out to my car to grab my book this evening, this is what I saw...

(not my car. my parent's. and lots of rain!)

In the time it took me to run the twenty feet to my car to grab my book (and my umbrella as well, at this point), this is what my shorts looked like:

So, my dad and I decided to get our rain gear, go outside, and enjoy the showers.

(my boots.)

(and my dad.)

And look at how fast his rain barrel was filling up!! Ay, caramba!

Bye-bye fire ban, and happy May Long Weekend!! Be safe. :)

Autism speaks

2010-05-20T07:46:00.002-06:00

I got into a conversation with my friend the other day regarding autism. I will be the first to admit that my knowledge on the subject is limited. I know that people inflicted with this disorder are essentially geniuses in the subjects that interest them most, are lost inside their own minds, and are unable to communicate effectively. It boggles my mind. It is such a prevalent disorder, yet so little is known about it.

I went to school with a boy who has autism. His locker was beside mine, and every day I would say, "Hi, ______." He never replied. And then one day, months later, he said, "Hi, Beth." He never spoke to me again, but I felt like I had broken through, even a little bit. Kids have a way about them; making fun of the things they do not understand. And that's what a lot of the people I went to school with did. I can't explain why, but I felt protective of him, so I would tell my friends to knock it off. Maybe it made no difference to him that I would say hi each morning, and maybe he never picked up on the teasing, but I believe that it did and that he did.

There is much to learn from people who are incapable of functioning like you or I. Parents of special needs children always say that they have learned far more from their child than their child will ever learn from them. I don't think this applies only to the parents. It applies to all of us.

This is the case with any disability, really. And if you are able to peel back the layers, you will discover a living, breathing, feeling person under the mask.

Pills for happiness

2010-05-18T08:41:00.003-06:00

A subject that I group in with religion and politics (not to be discussed with people you aren't close with), is medication for something like anxiety or depression. Views are strong here, and the whole mental health thing is so misunderstood, where I have found that most people simply don't know what they are talking about.

I have lived with (I almost said suffered with, but I am not suffering anymore) anxiety and depression for as long as I can remember. I won't go into the nitty gritty details, but there have been various points in my life where I really didn't think I could go on anymore. And the thing is, nothing horribly awful has ever happened to me that would "make" me this way. Which is why beyond educating myself and reading up on this, I know in my gut that it is a chemical/hormonal thing (in my case).

In terms of depression... I have lived with it since I was in seventh grade at least. I used to cut. I used to abuse pills, thinking I would overdose on them (Tylenol wants to a put a label on the bottles saying something along the lines of, "Overdosing on this will not kill you, it will just severely damage your liver"). I self-medicated. It was all a way for me to deal with the feelings I was having, in the only way that I knew how.

Anxiety was different for me. I lived with it for a long time, before knowing what it was. I remember one day at my old job, I got up to go see a co-worker, and suddenly felt like I was going to pass out. Tears started pouring down my face because I was so scared, and so my brother (who was also a co-worker) took me outside for some fresh air. After ten minutes it wasn't getting better, so he took me to the medi-center. This is when I remember the anxiety really making itself apparent.

After that, big places like Wal-Mart, Costco, concerts, and movie theatres immediately brought on the light-headedness. I felt like I was there, but not really there. I felt like my body was moving but my mind couldn't keep up. My heart would race, I would break out in a sweat, and I would tell myself, "Just breathe. Just breathe."

When Chris and I went to Thailand a few years ago, I would cry a lot, because I was so anxious. The crying was an immediate reaction to uncomfortable and new situations. I couldn't catch my breath.

I never believed in taking a pill to balance me out. I thought it was a cop out. I figured I could think myself out of it; change my attitude, work out, and eat right. Healthy outlets were sure to help. But they didn't. It got worse. I would go days or weeks without smiling, and when I did smile, it was physically painful because it was forced. My heart was hurting but I was too embarrassed to tell my doctor about it.

Until one morning. I was at Chris's, in his bed, while he was upstairs making breakfast. We were arguing about something, I can't remember what. I just know that it was insignificant, so I couldn't understand why I was looking at the curtains covering his window and picturing them wrapped around my neck. I cried for three hours. And then I told him I needed to see my doctor, stat.

That day we drove to my doctor, and I told her, "Listen, there is something wrong with me. I'm having these thoughts, and I am always dizzy, and I panic about everything." I broke down crying. She gave me a Kleenex, asked me some questions, asked how I felt about being on medication, and at that point I knew it was the only option I had left. So I told her that I had given it a lot of thought, and had come to understand that this was a chemical thing... not something I could "think myself out of."

Within a week, I could feel a difference. I had heard stories that these meds would make me feel like a zombie. Like my head was in a cloud. I admit, it took a while for my body to get used to them... but my doctor kept telling me, "It will get better. You will adjust to them." And I did. The thing I have found with my meds is that they don't change who I am, they just make me the best version of myself that I can possibly be. My happiness isn't forced. My smiles are real, my laughter is real, I can walk into a big place by myself, and even though the dizziness is still there, I can tell myself to ignore it, because I know that I will be okay.

I used to be very private with who I told about my anxiety and depression, but I am not anymore. It is so very common, and for every person who tells me I am silly for being on medication for it, there will be five people who will understand me. I get that there will always be opposing views on this subject, but the only suggestion I have is... keep in mind that your life is infinitely different than the person standing next to you, so what may be right for you, may not be the right thing for someone else. And educate yourself before you slam someone for choosing to take a pill in order to live the best life they can.

A great, great lady

2010-05-16T03:03:00.013-06:00

I am up late. I had a five hour nap this afternoon with Chris, as we stayed out way too late last night and got up way too early this morning. We had fun, though. I adored the cop. She told me some good stories, she accurately guessed how much I had had to drink (6), and she answered my burning question (how much over the speed limit can you drive without getting pulled over for speeding?). The answer is roughly 10. She told me that there is a leeway of 7 KMs, as different speedometers may read a little differently, and that on top of that, they will give you a few extra KMs to work with. Good to know.

Chris and I went to his grandma's today. And this post is going to be about her.

I absolutely adore the socks off of that woman. She gave birth to six boys, and has buried one. A few weeks ago we watched home videos that were taken 47 years ago... can you imagine? No sound, poor quality, but wow, what a thing to see. I saw her in her prime, and I saw Chris's dad at three years of age, buck-ass-naked. I saw the family in Disneyland, in Mexico, and I saw them throwing parties. She told us who each person was, and explained either what they are doing now, or told us about how they died. It was a real glimpse at history.

They don't make them like that anymore. Kind hearted, witty, funny, non-judgemental, caring, polite, interested in everything you have to say, and use words like "golly."

Chris's grandma & I

Chris and I picked up hamburgers and potato salad for dinner, and as soon as we got there, Chris's grandma brought out two nail polishes and asked, "Beth, would you mind painting my nails? I never thought I would get to the point where my hands shake so bad that I am unable to do it myself, but I can't! Can you believe that? I must be getting old!" How could I say no to her? So we spent a few minutes deciding if bubblegum pink or cherry red would suit her best. We settled on bubblegum pink. I did the first coat, we ate dinner, and then I did the second coat.

Did I already say that I adore her? Because I do.

I like a (wo)man in uniform

2010-05-14T15:21:00.002-06:00

I am hanging out with a cop tonight. I know, I know, you aren't what you do. But still. You go out for drinks with a cop and tell me that you aren't pooping your pants, and wiping your sweaty brow in fear that she will discover that you shoplifted when you were 14, or have a parking ticket that hasn't yet been paid, or that you have consumed alcohol in public.

This cop, a gal I've never met, is my good friend's girlfriend. She is 5'1", and small framed. I know, right, not intimidating at all. But it's always the little ones that pack the most punch. I have been to her place, and seen all of her belongings, and met her adorable cat, and used her washroom. But she was in B.C. doing police work for the Vancouver Winter Olympics at the time, so I didn't get to meet her.

Seriously, though, I am sure it will be fun. I just had to post about this, because how often do you get to hang out with an officer of the law on their time off!?

I have a question that I am most definitely going to ask her. I will phrase it something like this: "How fast can you go without getting pulled over for speeding?"... I'll let you all know the answer!

I hear car engines and children laughing

2010-05-13T13:03:00.002-06:00

I woke up this morning, stretching underneath my covers, relaxed and content because I took both today and tomorrow off work. When I have a day off that no one else does, it is extra special. It is better than a weekend. I feel like I am skipping out on my responsibilities, and I love it.

I came downstairs, and had to grab a blanket. It is plus 17 degrees Celcius outside, yet I was freezing inside my house. My dad apparently turned off the heat last night to conserve energy. Makes sense. He suggested to me, "If you want to get warm, move around, or come outside." I was on the couch, watching Tyra, huddled under the covers.

I glanced outside, and thought, "I am wasting such a beautiful day."

Armed with my book, cellphone, and laptop, I am sitting outside on the deck, in the swinging patio chair, with a blanket over my lap, and the breeze in my hair.

I love days like today.

I tip my hat to you

2010-05-12T09:40:00.006-06:00

The hardest part about blogging is coming up with a topic. Trying to come up with a unique idea or something that you think readers will find interesting is not an easy task. But eventually, without fail, I always come back to the fact that I blog for me. While I love that you take the time to read about my life, this little corner in cyberspace is a haven for me; a place for me to get jumbled ideas out so that they can hopefully fall together and ultimately make sense.

I have blogged off and on since I was roughly 13-years-old. There are so many reasons to blog. Promote a business, stay in touch with family, get your feelings out in a therapeutic way... all of these reasons have one thing in common; you are welcoming people into your life. By nature, I am an open person. Granted, there are parts of me that I keep private, and certain topics that I do not feel comfortable sharing with the World Wide Web... but in general, I believe in honouring your feelings, your thoughts, your ideas, your creativity, and showing it to the world, because there will always be people out there who will relate to it. The human experience is about connection.

I love my readers, each and every one of you, as I feel you have let me into your lives and I think that is a bold step in a world where trust is so hard to find.

With that, have a great day. :)

I've still got green paint in my hair

2010-05-11T12:42:00.005-06:00

I know you've all been sitting on the edge of your seats, anticipating the pictures of my new bedroom. Well, I am here to make your dreams come true!! Keep in mind, I still have pictures, mirrors, and fish tanks to put up on the walls, new blinds to be hung, and my mom hasn't yet had the time to make my new duvet and pillow cases. But... enjoy!

Chris steam cleaning with a beer in hand, and painting walls

Our favourite thing to do is lie in bed, and watch a movie on my laptop. Last night, in my new bedroom, we finished watching Planet 51 (so cute):

And... drumroll, please... dun dun dun... the finished product!:

My mom painted two green stripes on the entrance wall to my bedroom, in order to visually tie the two colours together

My cow stool that my dad re-finished for me years ago, and all of my perfumes!

My most prized possessions... books!

I love my bedroom :)

Taken in front of my filthy mirrors

Thank you everyone for putting up with me talking about my re-decorating for the past week. I am sure it hasn't been as fun for you as it has been for me, but it's pretty exciting to go from 13-year-old girl, to fun and fresh young adult within four days.

Weekend painted with positivity

2010-05-10T10:36:00.007-06:00

Do you ever look back on a particular day or weekend, months or even years later, and think how perfect it was? Three winters ago, my parents were out of town for the weekend, so Chris and I had the house to ourselves. We spent it playing video games, board games, and watching Planet Earth DVDs. I go back to that weekend in my mind quite frequently, because it was so relaxing, and I therefore sometimes try to re-create it.

This weekend was one of those weekends that I will think of fondly for years to come. It was perfect. On Friday night, Chris, my mom, and I moved all of my furniture out of my room, I ordered us pizza as a small thank-you for all of the ensuing help they would give me this weekend with my room, and then we went to Home Hardware to pick up my paint colours. I got worn boots (brown), and lime leaves (green).

We decided to hold off on painting until Sunday, as Chris and I decided to steam clean my carpet on Saturday, and it would need time to dry. So, after we bought the paint, Chris and I went over to his dad and grandma's. We played Skip-Bo, Chris set up their Digital Cable Box, and we watched Family Guy and had a few drinks. I adore Chris's family... they have welcomed me as their own since day one. They are such good people, who never speak poorly of anyone... I just love them to pieces.

On Saturday morning, I slept in while Chris went to rent the steam cleaner. We stripped the rest of my wallpaper, steam cleaned the rugs, and spent the evening outside with my dad around the fire, cooking hotdogs and chatting away. Later on, Chris and I went to Shoppers Drug Mart to buy chips and dip, and something small for our moms for Mother's Day. The real gift for my mom is still in the mail (high quality shampoo and conditioner, because I know she'd never treat herself to it), so I just bought her a card and two hairbushes (because I always steal her's haha).

On Sunday, I woke up to my brother making me an egg sandwhich, and my mom had already taped off the baseboards and ceiling of my bedroom for the painting to come. I gave her her gifts, bought us each a Slurpee, and the painting began! Two coats were needed, especially for the brown because it is such a rich colour. My parents hate the colours but don't care as long as I am happy with them. And am I ever!! It is so fresh, and will look great with all of my black furniture (which I am moving back in tonight). We ended the night with another weiner roast, and Chris and I settled in for the night, watching Planet 51.

I felt awful putting my mom to work on Mother's Day, but then I thought about it, and I think all in all it was an okay way to spend it, because we were together, and isn't that what Mother's Day is about?

My mom is buying me black Roman blinds, and is going to sew me up some new pillow cases and a duvet for my bed. :) I bought two circular wall fish tanks about a year ago, and never got around to putting them up. But my dad said he will help me put them both on the walls in my bedroom within the next week or so!

My fish tanks!

I hope you all had as great a weekend as I did. :)

Change is good, change is welcome

2010-05-08T00:12:00.008-06:00

I am steam cleaning, re-painting, re-decorating, and re-vamping my entire bedroom... it will be a work in progress for the next few weeks/months, but the real, hard work gets done this weekend (with immense help from Chris and my ma). It is 11 years overdue. I have had cow wallpaper covering my walls, and cow everything-else surrounding each square inch of my bedroom since I was in seventh grade.

It is time for this young grasshopper to grow the F up.

Expect a load of pictures. Thumbs up!

Ask and you shall receive

2010-05-07T09:00:00.004-06:00

Too often, people expect other people to know what it is that they want or need. You need a hug? You want to be told that you matter? It is weird how we are wired... it's like, we expect those close to us to be mind readers, and to sense our energy and intuitively know that we are longing for some sort of validation. Logically it is understood that nobody can possibly have this psychic ability. But on an emotional level, it is easier to not ask for help.

I think it is important to ask people for what you want. If I want a hug, I ask. If I tell a joke and people don't laugh, I say, "Can you pretend to find it funny?" so I don't feel like a dweeb. Rather than assume that people should know what to do... just ask!

The only reason I am bringing this up is because the other day, I was hanging out with one of my good friends, and I begged him for a compliment. Sometimes you just want your confidence to be lifted, right? I am not afraid to ask, "Can I have a compliment?"... sure it may be forced, but I believe it is still sincere. He said no with a smile on his face, but I wasn't upset, because that's just how he is... he knows it bothers me, so he doesn't give in.

So I texted my brother and sister and asked, "Can you give me a compliment, please?" They both did. And even though I asked for it, it made my heart smile just the same.

It will surprise you how often people will go out of their way for you. So if you want something... ask for it!

Enjoy your Friday. :)

Needles to accessorize

2010-05-04T12:28:00.005-06:00

I have always had a fascination with body modification. Piercings, stretched piercings, tattoos, whatever; it is a healthy and creative way to express yourself.

I don't have any tattoos. I won't say never, but it's highly unlikely that I will ever get one. Personal choice, really. I think they look awesome on other people and I always enjoy hearing the stories behind them, but I'll stick to piercings, thanks. In terms of piercings, I stay away from anything on the face (eyebrow, lip, monroe, etc).

My friend and I decided last year that we wanted to stretch our ears. Why? For me, two reasons: 1) While it is not uncommon to see stretched lobes, it is unique from the typical ear piercings, and 2) I am horribly allergic to cheap metal, and I was not willing to pay extravegent prices for high quality studs so I figured I'd go the route of stretching which offers a wider variety of material for inexpensive prices. I started at 16g (1.2mm), am now at 6g (4mm), and this is where I plan on staying.

Moi jewellery

I find that I like to get pierced when I have gone through change, or something in my life has changed. I like to validate that personal growth, and the only way I can really feel the bundled up energy release itself is with a needle through my skin. Masochistic? Perhaps.

Over the years I have had quite a few piercings; some I still have, some I do not. I love the nervousness before, the uncomfortableness of the needle going through my skin, and the surge of adrenaline I feel after. It is the best high ever. For a few weeks I had been craving the feeling of getting pierced. Last year I got my tragus done, and loved it. Unfortunately, the placement was less than good, so I took it out within two months. But let me say it again, I loved it! So, this past Saturday I decided to get it redone at a different shop, and I could not be happier with the outcome! It is a dainty piercing that is becoming more common, but still allows me to express myself.

The pain was worth it. Not that there was much pain initially. More of a tiny pinch as the needle went through, followed by a build up of pressure which made it feel like my ear was the size of my head. And then last night the real pain set in. At around 8pm, it started throbbing, and the aching went inside my ear and down to my jaw. I took a T3 but it didn't help. I have never had an ear or jaw ache, but that's what I feel like is happening to me. I've done some Googling, and this seems to be a common occurence in the healing process. Just to be sure, I e-mailed the place where I got it done to ask them if this is something I should be concerned about (no reply as of yet).

Oh well, the pain is worth it, because I have some cute new jewellery to rock. :)

High five for solid friendship

2010-04-29T10:04:00.006-06:00

The most valued friendships I have are the ones that involve complete honesty, and absolutley no judgment. I have very few of these friendships, but I consider myself extremely fortunate to even have these few... as there are people out there who don't have it at all.

Nothing is as refreshing as being able to spill your guts, faults and all, to someone, and have them say, "You are still a good person." It is a nice treat in life to have someone in your corner who will always remind you that you are human, and that you are allowed to make mistakes. To not feel trepidation about airing your dirty laundry around someone because you have high respect for one another and will always be supportive of one another is an amazing thing.

To not judge someone for their past, present, or what they plan to do in their future is wonderful. I have screwed up before... sometimes done the same stupid thing time and time again, and these great people tell me to keep my chin up, and to not beat myself up for it. These are the people who have helped me become comfortable being myself and have created a path for me toward acceptance and forgiveness for the things I have done that I sometimes wish I could take back.

Many of them do not read this blog or even know about it, but for those of you that do read it... thank you.

Just my random thought for the day.

I got a present

2010-04-27T16:28:00.002-06:00

This is what was waiting for me when I went out to my car this afternoon.

A dang bird totally shat on my car. A big, hot mess. A huge splatter. It looks like Mister Birdie decided to smear it around, too. And how do you propose I clean your turds from the crevice between my window and car, Mister Bird? What did you eat for lunch, I wonder?

Season of Spring

2010-04-26T12:17:00.012-06:00

I think it is time I wrap my arms around my mental well-being in a bear hug. It is spring; a time for new beginnings. I find that in winter I become a lazy sloth... doing nothing but sleeping, partying on weekends, watching copious amounts of TV, and thus I have no desire to do anything productive. I used to watch what I ate, work out, read lots of books, and I felt great! This past year has been an exciting year, but also a lazy one, where it seems I have put myself on hold because I simply do not have the energy to do anything.

It may be my thyroid. Thyroid problems run like wildfire through the blood of the females in my family. I always think, when will it be my turn? Part of me hates that I know it is lurking in my blood, waiting to be detected, but a bigger part knows that it is there, and knows that there is nothing I can do to stop it, so I just want it to come on full force so I can begin taking meds every day for the rest of my life, and therefore tame it. I am exhausted. But am I exhausted because of a hormonal thing, or am I exhausted because I have allowed myself to get lazy? I do not take care of my body or my soul. I have the desire, but I don't have the motivation.

(Edmonton River Valley)

Chris and I have decided that this week we will start going for walks in the river valley, and going for bike rides once I pump my tires up (I got my bike 10 years ago and can count on one hand how many times I have ridden it). And we won't drink for two weeks. Two weeks may not sound like a long time, and it really isn't, but we like to have a few beers on the weekend, or when we go out to restaurants we accompany our meal with a Long Island Iced Tea (me) or a Molson Canadian (him). I vow to eat healthier, work out, read more, and spend more time outside than inside.

Spring has sprung and I am ready to enjoy it to the fullest.

And I am starting with a big hearty bowl of tuna salad, yum yum!

1/2 decade of love and friendship

2010-04-23T07:28:00.010-06:00

Get ready for a little sappiness, friends! It is also super duper long (I eloquently apologize). It is mine and Chris's 5 year anniversary!! We fight, we argue, we bicker, we throw our hands up in the air when we don't know how to fix a problem we are facing, but we always know that the only option we ever have is to fix it, because we certainly aren't going to be living our lives without each other.

I met Chris in seventh grade. I was eager for friendship so I would go up to people and ask, "Want to be my friend?" I got some shakes of the head, some nods, and from Chris? Well, he said, "Go away, I'm busy." But then I started dating (or whatever the equivalent is at age twelve/thirteen) his best friend, and Chris started dating my best friend, so we were sorta forced into hanging around each other. From what he tells me, and who knows if he is just trying to make the story that much more romantic, he liked me from the get-go. He says he liked my big brown eyes and dimples.

So anyway, clearly our relationships with our respective best friends did not last very long. But Chris and I maintained a solid friendship, which only got stronger. It included notes being passed between class, long phone calls at night, and sneaking out of the house on weekends to meet up at the park to sit and talk.

In grade nine, he asked me out. Shortly before that, my first love broke my heart. I say broke it, because, isn't that what it truly feels like the very first time? He dumped me! I was heartbroken and wasn't ready to be in another relationship, but how could I say no to Chris? So I went through the motions of being his girlfriend. We even kissed two times. I threw up on his lap at the movie theatre, and he wasn't even mad. He simply moved my purse out of the way so the only thing that would get puked on would be his lap. So sweet.

But after three months I couldn't do it anymore. So I broke up with him. We were still best friends, though. And so came high school. In grade ten, there was a boy in my math class who I felt a very strong connection with, but he didn't even know I existed. So I sneakily got his e-mail from a mutual friend, we began talking online, and within a few months we were dating. I felt like I was a grown up. I felt equipped to deal with the seriousness of a relationship (even though I wasn't). Long story short, we broke up after a year, and I moved on, with Chris's help. Always a solid person in my life. Always.

The summer before eleventh grade, I went with my friend to our other friend's house. A guy was there. A tall, blonde haired, blue-eyed guy. He was quiet. He added me to MSN. We developed feelings, and he decided to move into his mom's place who lived closer to me than his dad did, so that we could be closer. We dated for about a year. Chris didn't like it, but dealt with it. Chris would inform me of this guy doing cocaine, and I was confused by it. Do I believe Chris, my best friend, or do I believe my boyfriend, the guy who should be number one in my life? I believed Chris. And good thing, because it was all true. We broke up.

After this, I told myself that I really needed to sit down and figure out what I wanted. If I wanted Chris, I needed to be with him. So this one weekend, my family and I went skiing, and I spent a lot of that weekend thinking. And writing. Ultimately, I came to the conclusion that Chris was the best guy for me. If you're going to be with anyone, it should be your best friend. It should be with somebody who has seen you through hard times, and has stuck by your side. With somebody you love, and want to see happy, and who always makes you smile. How had I been so blind for so long?

So I wrote a letter. This letter was a page or so long, single spaced, and in it I wrote down all of my feelings for him, and apologized for making him watch me go out with other guys when all along we both knew it was him I should be with. I made him read this letter out loud in front of me. At the end, he read, "Will you go out with me?" He looked at me with tears in his eyes, and he said yes, and that was five years ago today.

We have gone to grad together, to Thailand together, went through the death of a very close friend together, have gone on road trips, camping trips, zoo trips, have become a part of each other's family, have perfected our cuddle, and are currently planning our future together.

I am always so thankful that we met so early in life. We grew up together, really. And in the process of growing up together, we grew together.

I love you, Chrissy!!

People watching

2010-04-22T13:46:00.000-06:00

Are we all so curious about people we pass by? Whether it be a second of eye contact with a stranger in a restaurant, in line at 7-11, the cashier at Wal-Mart, or even those we work with but don't really know, or teachers, or distant relatives. I mean, do you ever look at these people and try to look deeper than what your eyes physically see? I do.

What is success to you? To me, it means being happy. If what you are doing in your life is making you wake up with a spring in your step, a grin on your face, and a heart full of happiness, then by my score system, you have won at this game we call life. When I see "successful" people; professors, managers, business owners- I can't help but glance at their left hand ring finger to see if it is home to a gold band.

Granted, not everyone wears their wedding ring. My parents do not. Does my dad even have one? So I know that I can't always trust what my eyes are showing me. But when I see "successful" people without a ring, I envision them making lots of money, being looked up to by people who have not yet gained the same social respect, and I think... do you go home lonely? Do you have a cat, or a dog, or maybe fish? Children? If so, what is your relationship like with said children? Are you divorced?.... Are you happy?

It makes me wonder... what do people see when they see me? I guess I will never know.

What shall we do today, Brain?

2010-04-20T22:09:00.009-06:00

I wrote my final today!! I went into it without studying. I knew how well I was understanding all of the material, and I felt confident, and in this one particular case, for the first time ever, I was not worried whatsoever. I had no stress! I felt that studying would just add unwanted pressure. So I went into it (not) blind, and guess what? I think I did super duper well. There were a few questions on misplaced and dangling modifiers, which I had an idea of but was not entirely sure of. So I made educated guesses. And when I got home, I Googled that shizz to find out the difference, and turns out my intuition was right. Woot. :) Beyond that, I felt comfortable with almost the whole thing. Maybe I am getting too excited too fast; maybe I will bomb it. But I doubt it.

Two other girls and I were ultra-early for class; doodling in our notebooks and texting on our phones to pass the time, when the professor walked in.

Prof: Ohhh, the keeners of the class.
*I smile at her.*
Prof: Can you believe this is the last class? It went so fast!
*We all kiss ass and tell her how quick it went and how much we learned.*
Prof to me: How many other exams do you have this week, Beth?
Me: This is the only class I am taking, so this is it!
Prof to Girl #2: And, how about you?
Girl #2: This is the only class I am taking, as well.
Prof to Girl #3: What about you, Girl #3?
Girl #3: Yep. Same. Only class!
Prof: Well, good for you, girls. I am always shocked when I hear of students taking this class on top of a full course load. This class seems to give students a really hard time.

And to think... I really enjoyed it.

I am a lucky ducky

2010-04-20T07:26:00.004-06:00

Chris and I were beyond exhausted yesterday. We stayed up a little later than usual on Sunday night watching Alice in Wonderland on my laptop, and we sure paid for it in sleep deprivation. My dad made us bison burgers for dinner last night, and shortly after that, Chris and I laid down with the intention of watching a movie, but quickly decided that sleep sounded more appealing. We were out cold by 6:30pm. I didn't wake up until 6:30am this morning. A full twelve hours! Chris had to drive his boss and his boss's wife to the aiport at 4:30am this morning (they are going to Vegas, baby!), and so just as I was getting ready to leave for work, he got back from the airport with a bagel and coffee in hand for me from Tim Hortons. Great sleep, great breakfast, great boyfriend!

I want a pretty backpack and a Barbie lunch box

2010-04-19T15:40:00.011-06:00

I am one final exam away from being done with my first ever University class. One more exam and I am free for four months; until I begin going full-time for four years in the fall. I decided to take this night class to make the course load for my first semester a little lighter... you know, get it out of the way. I had heard all sorts of stories from people who had taken the class. "It is the hardest class in the entire program." "I almost failed." "I did fail." I was terrified. And to make it worse, during my first class, I learned that four out of the twenty some odd students were taking it for the second time, as they didn't pass the first time.

I went home that night overwhelmed, but ready to tackle it. Then two days later, going over what we had learned, and reading the chapters assigned, I had a total meltdown. I was bawling, and hyperventilating, and telling myself I was going to fail this class, and I might as well just drop it now. Going over verbs, and adjectives, and nouns- stuff that was presumed everybody already knew, and I was already lost. How can I be a writer when I can't differentiate between the most basic grammar terms? Everyone else seemed to know what they were doing. And boy, was I lost!

My sister called me. She talked me through it, and went over what it was like for her when she was in University. That some classes will be harder than others, and that it's important to have structure and stay organized. After our almost hour conversation, I felt a little bit better. And by the next week, I had the basic grammar tools down. I became more confident, really appreciating the fact that I was having a much easier time picking up the rules than I initially thought I would. I still don't know everything, but I know a bajillion times more than I knew before starting this class. And I have come to really enjoy it.

But I am scared to go back. I am 23... past my prime! Some say this will give me an advantage. I am more mature, have more life experience, and have come full circle and know that this is what I am meant to do with my life. But it also kind of stinks. A lot of my friends are graduating now, and ready to start their careers and their lives. And look at me. I have been out of high school for five years, and have nothing to show for it. No home. No education. No career. But then I think... who's to say what makes a successful person? Is a 23 year old graduate any more successful than a 27 year old graduate? And although I won't be done with school until I am 27, at least I will be 27 and happy.

But then I think back to high school. I never studied. I never did homework. I skipped class. I scraped by with high 50s or low 60s. But I was a kid, and I had no direction. Even though I do have direction now, I still never learned the skills of studying. I haven't studied for a single test so far in this class. I have waited until the last minute to do my assignments. I won't be able to do this when I am going full-time. This procrastination will do nothing good for me come fall.

So I better get organized.

But not yet.

For now, I will procrastinate a little longer and go outside to enjoy the sunshine. :)

Happy moments are simple moments

2010-04-16T17:53:00.012-06:00

It is a beautiful day when it is warmer outside than it is inside.

(inside with a blanket vs. outside in the sunshine)

My morning started with a pounding migraine. If you want to get specific, it actually started last night. I have, since grade three, suffered with migraines. They run in my family big time. Genetics suck. I can usually tell when they are coming on, because my hands get ice cold, my skin goes numb, I become sensitive to light, and I see blurry spots. They used to be a weekly or even daily unwanted monster, but over the years I have learned what triggers them and so I... avoid those things. There are times when they come out of nowhere, though, and not a single thing can be done to stop them from showing their ugly little heads. They are awful, but I get them much less frequently than I used to, so I can deal with them when they do sprout up. I sleep a lot, and take a lot of drugs, and eventually they dissipate.

Around noon it started to go away, so I used my sick-day to take a bath, read a few chapters from The Glass Castle (excellent memoir), and then decided to pay a visit to my brother, seeing as I hadn't been to his place in months! I finally got to meet his cat, who by the way, rocks! His name is Thoroughgood, and he plays fetch. You throw the ball up the stairs, and he will bring it back to you in his mouth. Here is a few photos of the little turkey:

After I left my brother's, I went for a drive. Today, in my mind, marks the first official day of spring. It is +21, I got my first Slurpee of the season, and was able to drive with all windows rolled all the way down. I know this will be a great weekend, with lots of sunshine, and lots of laughter.

Enjoy yourselves!

Snippity Snippity make my hair shine and smell pretty

2010-04-15T18:13:00.004-06:00

I got my hair cut today. It looks no different because all I got is a trim, but those icky grody split ends are gone! Finally! She always says, "Every six weeks, Beth!" And I always say, "Yes, yes, I will do better next time!" because every time I go in, it's been at least four months since the last cut. But I get lazy and I do not like taking time out of my (not at all) busy life to sit in a chair while someone plays with my hair for an hour.

But I love my stylist! I spent my entire life trying to find a good one. I finally found one (thanks to my pal, Jess), but then she went back to school... which is fantastic for her, but I was a little worried for myself! But my old stylist passed me over to the one I am currently with, and I love her just as much! I feel okay saying, "Take the split ends off and do whatever you want with the rest of it," because I know she knows what she is doing. I have only had my hair coloured by her once, but I llloveddd it. FYI, I no longer dye my hair because the upkeep is so expensive and while I am in school, I won't be able to afford it.

But anyway. I also love my stylist because she remembers everything I tell her, even though I have only gone to her three times (and only once every four months... killer memory)! I told her the first time I met her about my plans for the future, and about Chris's plans for the future, and what's new in my life, and she always remembers every little detail. I think it says a lot about the attention she gives her clients. Plus she laughs at my jokes. Weeee.

Now let me get back to my Redbull before it gets cold.

Nostalgic

2010-04-15T10:59:00.002-06:00

I just read an old blog of mine. From 2007. And it makes me sad. Why? Because I was so honest back then. I was talking to my friend Chelsea a few months back about how going to school for something centered around the arts (writing, make-up, whatever) can cloud your creativity and how you express yourself. I stumbled upon this blog and can hardly remember writing in it. I was so real; I held nothing back and everything was straight from my heart. Man... I was just open.

It goes back to the post I wrote yesterday. When you trust someone, and when that trust is broken, you become guarded. Same thing here. When you learn all these rules, you begin to say things the "right way", and to filter what you say, and you start to think about how you will be perceived.

I wish my filter was broken.

Trust Shmust

2010-04-14T07:32:00.003-06:00

My job has turned me into a weary person. I see the backstabbing that goes on, and all of the office politics, and the "mean girls", and so I am hesitant to be open and honest with people these days, because I no longer trust anyone's intentions the way I used to. Some may say this is good, because where I was naive before, I am now cautious. But I think it sucks the big one. (This post is not about my job, because while I could go on for hours about it, I do not want to get into specifics and possibly threaten my job in any way. Plus, who wants to read about someone's job? It gets pretty boring pretty quick.)

Rather, I guess I am just thinking outloud about how to get over breached trust, and how to hold onto the person you were. I am finding it increasingly difficult. Not only with work, but with personal relationships I have had in the past. We have all had our trust broken, and it is not a nice feeling. Especially when you know that you have tonnes of dirt on these people, and it could be so easy to do what they did to you and use it against them... but you are the bigger person and so you bite your tongue and sit there wondering why you were treated that way.

I am not pitying myself or any of that silly nonsense. Because we all go through it. I haven't gone through it recently, but this is the first time I have really thought about how all of that junk has sort of changed who I am. I don't want to be changed. I want to be that same person. Do you trust someone until they prove they can't be trusted, or do you not trust someone until they prove that they can be trusted?

This really bothers me, because even if I do "trust" someone, and tell them something private, I am always, in the back of my head, thinking, "Who have they told?" So I have stopped telling anybody the really important things, the things that I would be heartbroken if it ever got out. Isn't that sad? To walk around with my armour on at all times.

I have some really great people in my life whom I wish I could trust completely. But my guard is up; because life happens, people break your trust, and I have no clue how to stop blaming all people for a few peoples actions.

Technology has taken me five steps back

2010-04-12T12:37:00.007-06:00

When I was younger, my mom would drag me to work with her on weekends or over the summer holidays. To keep me preoccupied while she got her work done, she would plop me infront of the typewriter sitting on the desk outside her office, and I would pound away on the keys, loving the clicking sound they made. I would write stories. I would write letters. And I loved tearing out the page and crumpling it up if I made a mistake; even though this meant I had to start all over again. My love for typewriters began.

Over the past two years, I've kept my eyes peeled on eBay for good deals, and have asked various people to get me one for Christmas or my birthday. The old school ones, while obviously the more classic, are simply not as convenient as the new age electric typewriters. Can you even buy print wheels or ribbons for the super duper old ones? I don't know.

Last weekend my auntie was over at our house for Easter, and casually mentioned that she had an electric typewriter that she was going to get rid of. My cousin stopped her mother in her tracks, because she remembered that I wanted one and have been looking for a while now. My auntie said she would be more than happy to give it to me... it would save her a trip dropping it off somewhere as a donation.

So when I got to her house yesterday for my grandma's 84th birthday dinner, guess what was waiting for me? My new prized possession. :) I still have to learn the mechanics of the thing, but boy am I a happy camper.

Next I need a rotary phone.

What an adventure

2010-04-10T00:51:00.032-06:00

Do you ever wake up from a dream and know that the memory of it will not stay with you, as parts of it are already fading? You go over what you can in your mind, and try to piece it all together, so you can hopefully fall back asleep, and wake up with some recollection of it. But you know that you won't. And so you wake up again, later on, and you know you had a crazy dream, but you can't remember it. But sometimes, if you are lucky, you will be smart and think ahead and jot down some notes about it before you fall back to sleep. And if not that, then maybe your dream will come back to you in bits and pieces in the days that follow.

Last night I had a much needed nap. I had maybe eight hours of sleep combined the previous two nights. It was oh so needed. I find that these deep sleeps are the best ones... you fall asleep before your head hits the pillow, and the dreams are far more interesting than we could ever imagine in our waking moments.

I woke up from this sleep, and in a dazed state said to Chris, who was sitting in the recliner a mere two feet away from me, "I just had the craziest dream of my life." Ya know, I was still half asleep, so I can't remember exactly what I said in response to his, "What was it about?", and I am sure he won't remember, either... because he's a boy and I am sure he was not interested.

But I remember I went to my friend's house. And he wasn't there. I don't know how I knew that something was wrong, but I knew it, and soon enough I was on a plane to North Korea, where the Taliban had taken him. It was the middle of North Korea, and I remember a never-ending expanse of dirt, and sand, with shallow pools all around. I then remember seeing wildlife all around me; zebras, giraffes, lions, and more. And tonnes of trees. Like a rain forest.

Then, I don't know, I was back home, and my family was sitting around our kitchen table, and my friend who had been kidnapped was there. My brother said to him, "You got attacked by a lion!!" But the wounds were under his clothing, so I didn't see them.

And then, some little boy went missing, which I found out because I got a secret envelope, and in order to read it, you had to know the language it was written in. But even more, the language was invisible and could only be read by going over it with one of those magic markers that brings the clear ink to life. I went to the little boy's bedroom, and saw crazy fishtanks all around. The entire room was comprised of fish tank walls, but they weren't regular tanks. I don't know how they were different; they just were.

The next thing I know, I am at a gas station, and I am very scared. Gangsters and Taliban run the place, and yet I am not afraid enough to stay away. I buy a chocolate bar, I can't remember what kind, and I leave.

And then I am riding a bike with two friends. In real life, I haven't ridden a bike in about 10 years. In my dream, I completely forgot how. And in my dream, I remember thinking, "Huh, they always say you never forget how." Well, I did. I was so wobbly. So my friends and I are biking down the highway, and we go off the road, over a huge mound of dirt. On the other side, we see a massively huge and beautiful hot spring, it was simply perfection. Random people were playing in the water, with tubes and water noodles.

My friends on their bikes said, "We have to go. This isn't a safe place." So they took off and left me.

I didn't go in the water.

Rather, I took off and started biking down the highway. And I was going fast!, like 110KMs at least!! The wind was blowing through my hair, and there were no other vehicles on the road. I was cruising.

And then I woke up.

___________________________________

Here is me wearing everyone's New Years' hat... on Christmas Day... just to make you smile.

Daddy-O

2010-04-09T07:35:00.014-06:00

Sometimes I am amazed at the relationship I have with my dad. Growing up, we butted heads, a lot. This is, of course, normal parent/child behavior, but for some reason it seemed extra bad with him and me. He retired when I was in the third grade, so I was therefore able to come home every day for lunch, and I no longer required a baby-sitter after school... this was great and something I don't think I fully appreciated until now. We got to bond more so than we would have, had he been working. Unfortunately, a lot of that turned into child and teen angst, where I would disobey rules, yell at him, swear at him, and ignore him completely. I really don't know when it all changed. Three years ago we still didn't get along all that great.

My dad? How do I describe him? His stories are long, and drawn out, and sometimes not very funny. He drives way too slow and I bet you anything he will get a ticket one day for it. He scares a lot of people, and I often hear, "I don't know what to say to him." At the beginning of mine and Chris's relationship, he said that my dad reminded him of Robert De Niro off Meet the Fockers. Really intimidating (but he's really not). He can be very quiet and short tempered, or full of energy and jokes around with everybody. I think that's the part that got to me most when I was growing up. He was so hard to read. He could be nice one minute, and the next I felt like he was taking his anger out on me. Plus, I was going through my own crap as all kids do.

When did our relationship change? Can I pinpoint it to any one moment? Not really, but I think it has to do with Chris and me spending a lot more time at my house, and really going out of our way to include him in things, since he is home alone so much of the day. We rent movies that we think he will enjoy watching with us. The three of us make chicken wings on summer weekends at 1am and then go outside and throw around the glow-in-the-dark frisbee. Chris helps my dad with any little project around the house that he can. I will sometimes throw out a random invite to my dad, "Wanna come to Chapters?", or I will call him: "I'm at Subway right now, want something?", and a lot of the time, just the two of us eat dinner together, because my mom works so much.

And one thing I have realized is that... we are so much alike. They always say opposites attract, right? Well we are so similar. We pick up traits from both parents. For instance, I have my mom's quietness. But I have my dad's stubbornness, his quirky and different humour, him and I are both the most observent creatures around, we both get into our moods where we just want to be left alone. He knows when I don't want to talk. He laughs at my jokes, and if he doesn't, I know he's really thinking about how awesome I am (haha maybe not).

Point is, my dad and I have done a 180 (it doesn't make sense to me when people say 360, because that's just a full circle, so then aren't you right back where you started?). My dad still annoys me sometimes, but mostly, I enjoy being around him.

To tip or not to tip?

2010-04-07T11:23:00.003-06:00

A few weeks ago, Chris, my sister, her husband, myself and my dad went to the mountains for a weekend ski trip. Which was killer, by the way. And yes, I just said killer. After the first day of skiing, we went to the Old Spaghetti Factory for some grub. During our meal, we repeatedly received some not-so-good service. We started talking about service to tipping ratio.

I've always had my view on tipping, and usually it is not well received. I understand that anyone in the waitressing/serving/bartending industry makes minimum wage, and relies on tips to survive. Oh I get that. I've had many friends who've worked in that industry, and I hear the stories about disrespectful customers, customers who walk out on their tab, customers who make the job ten times more difficult than it has to be.

I am not that customer. I cannot remember the last time I complained about a meal, or was rude to a waitress. I say please and thank you, I ask how her day is going, and if she has nice hair or eyes or shoes, I will compliment her. (And I'm just saying the pronoun "her" because let's face it, most of the waitresses out there are female.) I am a good customer who has never run out on a tab (well maybe I did once... we waited half an hour to be seen, another hour for our food, and she didn't come around for another hour and a half, so we left).

But just like not everyone is made to be a teacher, mechanic, or firefighter- not everyone is made to be in the restaurant industry. And if you can't do your job properly, your tip from me will reflect that. I follow the 10% tip for breakfast and lunch rule, and 15% for dinner rule. If service is well, you will get your tip. If it is above and beyond, I will bump it up a little higher. And if it is absolutely horrible; no smile, bitchy waitress, food that is slow to arrive and tastes like garbage, and a waitress who not once comes around to refill my drink or ask how things are going, you will get no tip from me. Why would I pay you for a service which you have not provided me? If you can't work in the hectic fast-paced world of waitressing, then find another job. Sure, sometimes restaurants are packed, but that is in your job description. You should be able to handle it. I am not a waitress because I know I could not handle the stress and rush of it. This is just my two cents on tipping, and I hope I didn't ruffle any feathers in the process of explaining it.

PS- Same goes for hair stylists. And any other profession that it is common practice to tip.

Future children?

2010-04-05T02:12:00.004-06:00

I am 23. Young, by all accounts. My life hasn't even begun. But still, I find myself fighting over my future children's names with Chris. Do all couples do this?

We have mostly agreed.

For a girl, I love the names Kennedy and Cayman. Chris prefers Cayman. But when we tell people that that is our future daughter's name, we often get met with the, "Well, that's okay..."

We know people don't like it. I mean, I want my kids to have names that won't be made fun of. But I LOVE the name Cayman. So do I sacrifice my love for that name for the sake of my child's social well-being?

Anyway.

For a boy... Oliver!!!! Ollie, for short.

And what I love about Cayman and Oliver is what I am about to tell you. Chris's grandma's name, who is an amazingly pure-hearted woman, is Kathleen. But everyone calls her Kay. Short for Cayman, right? And her husband's (Chris's grandpa's) middle name was Oliver.

Cay and Ollie. :)

So I am biased. So what?

Feelings hurt

2010-04-04T02:06:00.010-06:00

I think writing from the heart is the best, and hardest thing to do. Best, because you say what you feel. Hardest, because... feelings are hard.

As soon as I see someone in distress, I am all over it. I love helping others. I love when people trust me with their feelings. I am a problem solver; I love to fix things. I'm a good hugger. I want my friends to be happy.

A friend of mine lost someone very special to her to cancer tonight. My heart hurts for her. I know what it means to lose someone special to you.

Do you remember your first death? All I remember is sitting in a funeral home, with people all around me crying, and I look at my mom with my big brown eyes and say, "Why are people crying?"

"Grandpa died," says mom.

I was 5, so I had no idea what was going on.

Death can't escape us, even at 5.

I've lost two very good friends. The stories behind those deaths are for another day. But those deaths have matured me in more ways than I can explain. I learned a lot from losing my friends. I learnt about life, love, death, respect, disrespect, honour, and more. You learn a lot about who you are when you lose those who you think make you who you are.

Those people shape you. They truly do live on through you. Loss is hard; it can sometimes feel like it's breaking you. But at the end of the day, you remember the moments you shared, and you smile.

Life goes on. It has to.

Books, books, books

2010-04-02T17:29:00.017-06:00

My cat getting in the way as I am about to write this post

I would say it is universally agreed that the book is always better than the movie. I mean, duh, there will be exceptions- but not very many. It is always fun to go into a movie after reading the book, just to see how much of the story has changed, how true the movie has stuck to the characters, if they look like what your mind had pictured, blahblahblah. And what is better than a book being made into a movie? A book that reads like a movie. My favourite books are the ones that I can visualize in my mind. I can see the characters and their surroundings, hear their voices, smell the atmosphere. There was a book I read once that amazed me. For the life of me I cannot remember the title of it, and believe me, I have tried multiple Google searches. I finished it, and then months, maybe even years later I recalled a movie I had once seen. I was explaining this movie to a friend, and trying to make them remember it, too. When suddenly I blurted out, "That wasn't a movie!!! It was a book!"... an exceptionally well written book, at that. To confuse me so badly that I could remember in my mind seeing the story unfold and the characters fall to their death and feel the dank ground underfoot?... so much so that I thought it was a movie? A girl in my grammar class said the most brilliant thing the other day... "A good writer does not write words, but images."

We all like to envision our future homes. The homes that will be a reflection of who we are. I would like a swimming pool, hot tub, game room, gym room, and library. Really, do I think I will have all of this, or even most of it? Nope. And that is okay. But I will have a library! It will have plush carpet, cushy enveloping couches and reading chairs (brown, or a deep red in colour), with an area rug and lamps surrounding it. The book shelves will be mahogany (coloured). I may not have it until I am forty. But I will have it. Sort of like this:

But for now, I will have to be okay with what I've got. Which is a whole lot of books. Not neatly organized. Not all in one place. But my most valued possessions.

(Plus others that are strewn throughout my car and the house.)

Frilly girl becomes me

2010-03-30T16:14:00.003-06:00

Sometimes I wish I cared about my appearance a little more. I see girls who really put effort into the way they present themselves to the world. It is just part of their routine to make sure they look their best. Or even half-assed presentable. Styled hair with no fly-aways, immacutaely put on make-up, and clothes that fit their body in all the right ways and accentuate all the right parts.

For what it's worth, there isn't some horrific reason like I have no self-love or I don't think I am pretty enough. That is not it at all. The truth is, I am lazy. There are certain occasions that call for me to do my hair, put together a nice outfit, and paint my face with a bit of powder and blush. But mostly I avoid it. I throw on whatever I can find, I put my hair in a pony tail, and I typically stay away from make-up. The make-up thing is more that my skin sucks (it is dry and flaky almost all of the time), and I never really learned the tricks of applying make-up, or what features I should be trying to bring out.

But I have to admit, I feel ten thousand times better about myself when I care about my appearance. Who doesn't? When you look good, you feel good. So this weekend I am taking a baby step to femininity; I am going shopping for skirts! I have never been that gal, the one who wears skirts, but I think I am ready to take this monumental leap!

Good luck, Beth. You will need it.