If You Wanna Be My Lover

Okay, so I sang karaoke to the Spice Girls tonight. This should be an ultimate shocker in some regards. One because I dont sing in public ever, and two because I dont listen to pop music for the most part. However, there was something ultra enticing about the thought about getting up with my possibly not so clear minded friends and singing the spice girls. It wasnt even like there was inhibition. Perhaps their lack of fear was all I need. I think it is safe to say that I now can go to sleep knowing I did one thing that scared me today. And it was awesome. And I really just like the word lover.

Elephant Shoes

I dont know where I heard it. Somewhere along the way to growing up a little bit and learning that words are hard to express. Sometime before I had to come to understand the meaning and impact of words. And yet saying elephant shoe is just so much easier than so many other things. I even think it. Instead of thinking of what I should say or what I could say or the mature appropriate thing I just think of how I prefer a cop out. I prefer to not say everything sometimes because I have a massive fear that things arent as perfect as they seem. And things dont even seem perfect.

I guess it is called adaptation. Survival of the fittest. Its how natural selection works. We adapt or we die. Not always literally, but in some sense we become obsolete and extinct if we do not find ways to adapt. I think some adaptations can be negative, we can desensitize ourself. And in that space between us supposed to be feeling and the space of nonexisting we can just not acknowledge the feeling in any real sense. We accept things as normal that arent. We shouldnt have to. But its how we cope. We deal with the difficult by not dealing with it and normalizing it.

I noticed this on the usual walk this morning. I made an off handed comment in a lighthearted comment about a serious topic and my friend stopped and looked at me. And then she acknowledged that if she didnt know better she would think I was joking as my nonchalance seemed abnormal. Its how I cope. Things are less real and less able to control your life if you dont give them that power.

Back to the important things though. The elephant shoe. I think about it all the time. I let it consume me when it shouldnt. I cant help it. I am so happy that it scares me. I dont want to screw this up but I dont know if I know how to actually let things be when they are good. I hope I can learn fast. I am happy, and mostly its because of a boy.

Let The Rain Fall Down and Wake My Dreams

Hilary Duff sang a song one time. Or maybe many times. Actually lets make it twice because I currently have two songs of hers depicting this moment. I just remember this one specific song though because of the lyrics. The blatant obvioussness of them along with the pure fact and ridculousness just stuck with me. For example "If the light is off then it isnt on".Who sings that? I mean I know that if my light is off then that means it isnt on. Thanks for the reminder. That is not the point though or why I am writing tonight.

Its been a rainy day. One of those evenings where you could just sit and watching the rain pouring down the windows. Like in the music video for come clean. Or at least what I remember the video being like from a decade ago. And I did. I sat at work watching the rain because the power was out and there wasnt much I could do while trying to cancel the afternoons appointments. And as I watched the rain I thought about how refreshing, renewing and cleansing it is. I love being out in the rain, letting it just fall on my face and feeling like everything is a bit purer. I like laying on my bed and listening to the rain falling outside because its soothing. And for some reason every time it is really stormy outside the rain makes me think of that third L word. That thing that is so elusive and yet seems so much deeper when it rains. So I think I will be like Hilary tonight and let the rain wake my dreams.

My lack of rereading my own writing recently is becoming blaringly apparent to me. I know I am only writing to try and release the pressure I feel. The pressure that only I am placing on myself yet I cant lift it. Its like I am allowing myself to be crushed under a boulder I placed on me. The feeling is surreal in a third definition of free dictionary masochistic way. Its as if I wont allow myself to feel peace and joy. The second I want to say how happy I am I let something ruin it. I let myself be enveloped in overwhelming things that should be sitting on shelves. My life feels unsorted. As if there are books and papers and clothes strewn everywhere in representation of objects and life situations. An yet my room is rather neat minus the notes to study. The feeling in unsettling. Its lonely. And yet I only want to be alone. I am avoiding even leaving this slightly rectangular shaped place because inside it there is only a faint sound of rain and the obvious sound of my records. It is a haven. A haven where the only one that can hurt me is myself. And that is possibly my biggest enemy. I need a break from my own head. 

Let me clarify. I have a life that is above adequate. I just feel inadequate and continually find myself in unfortunate or less than ideal situations that become overwhelming and all encompassing. This week has been full of such situations. I think I could use a few weeks where I only have good karma. That would be pleasant. But maybe I am too scared of being happy to let that happen.

The History You Didnt Take Because The History Is Just History

In some lines of work you have to take a history. To find out what has happened to be able to find out how to proceed. To be able to piece together everything. I am efficient at this. I know the order to do so. I can handle open and closed ended questions and responses. I am wary of the time and can do this effectively. However, that is in the form of work. It is not in life.

Life doesnt work that way. You dont take a complete history upon meeting. You have to piece together answers over a long period of time and then look at the picture. And some pieces will be missing, maybe forever, and maybe not. Unless all barriers are broken there will never be an entire picture. So its not the same. So in life sometimes you come across another piece and as you place it in you feel accomplishment, like you are building something. And some pieces are full of history thats dark and tainted, things you didnt want to know but realize you should know. Everyone has history, I just didnt know what yours was and somehow it hurt.

It makes me wonder if I should take a more thorough history of people sooner, prevent the surprises. This week has felt like an emotional roller coaster, but one thats in a nightmare because you cant control it and cant just get off. It doesnt just end after one minute of glorious horror. It just keeps going. I feel out of control. Like there is nothing around that I can just take charge of. Perhaps thats why I keep letting my phone ring without answering. Its something I can actually choose. Sorry if you feel shut out today, I just want to be alone.

I Know I Know I Know

You know when you have something in your head and you're sure it will be real but you actually dont want it to be? And then you get clarity. An answer. That's all you want. Perhaps it will bring closure. It will clear the murky water that appears to be your life. And you get it. You get your answer. And its exactly what you thought. You knew all along. But somehow the thought of it is suffocating. Each inhale is agonizing. Its like something is sucking all of the air out of the atmosphere and you struggle to breathe.

How can you know the answer already, be sure of it, and just be waiting for confirmation and yet when you get that confirmation it's a shock to your system? Aren't you prepared already? Mentally, verbally, you know what will happen. You anticipated it. So why does it feel so foreign? I wish I knew. I think its because I was lying to myself. I lied all along. I said it was okay. It wasn't okay. I am scared, apprehensive and feeling anxious about making everything work out. The future is hard to handle. I need to get back into the now. Into this moment. I need to recentre my thoughts.

Even though I knew in my head all along, today was still not a good day. It was a day full of overwhelmingness. Tomorrow is a new day. At least I wasnt alone today.

I'll Dispose of You Like a Lighter Out of Fuel

The lyrics are morbid and spiteful. I gave you these roses now but I left in the thorns. I would rather hurt someone than myself. And yet they continually dance around my mind. I think of this song and how disposable some things are. How selfish humans are. How we can toss people to the side once they fill their purpose. How tragic. And yet a day full of peace, comfort and blatant honesty brings me to this song.

Perhaps because I have had disposable relationships. I have been the one scared to be hurt so walked away and hurt others in the fear of opening up and being vulnerable. And then I have been the one hurt as someone else has been closed. And then there are times of mutual disposability. But what do you do when one day you wake up and realize the lighter is out of fuel and yet you love it, so you cant let it go. All you can do is put it in a drawer and continue on. To forget about it unless you come across it. Being fuelless it has little purpose. Unless it was refueled. Perhaps this is just another demonstration of my inability to let things go. I do, eventually. But its like owning a camera and then running out of film, you dont toss it, unless they stop making film for it. Then it has no purpose and perhaps will find its way to the trash next to your old ikea lamp.

Disposability is tragic. Yet those people that resist it, the ones that remain in your life, like the thorns on roses, should be treasured. A thorn prick only hurts for a moment. Nothing compared to the beauty of the rose. This reasoning is only my way of justifying to myself why I once chose to love someone that I knew would break my heart. It seems so long ago. Something that occurred in a time when life was different. It feels so unemotional. Like a fact. Its like just looking at a table and reading fractions. I used to love you. You didnt love me and I left. We had potential, a lot of it. But potential isnt and wasnt enough to prevent me from leaving. And you would never have asked. I never once thought that it hurt you when I got on that plane. The fact is it did. And that all is so irrelevant. Except you know all of my secrets and regardless of the thorns and the lack of fuel you are still there. There in the sense that we can unemotionally talk about the facts, the words that should be dramatic and feel nothing. And at the same time you can say the words to me that you dont know why they are coming out, words you dont express, and know that my heart aches for you. Your humaness is endearing. But at the end of the day it doesnt change anything. Perhaps then you knew all along, so the facts were just general conversation in a heavy sense.

I nearly erased this due to its lack of external meaning. Its all from the past. The past isnt now. Its been 9 months since I got on that plane and that was the end. The fact is I am falling in love with someone here. But then again that doesnt change that the indisposability of a past relationship has given me a human that knows my secrets and is finally opening up. I guess I didnt dispose of everyone like a lighters out of fuel when I left. But everyone needs a friend like that sometimes.

I lied, I would rather hurt myself then someone else.

I Can Guarantee That Lickin' The Package Ain't Ever Quite As Good As

Its like when you get a cup of chocolate pudding and you open it up and lick off the lid. Its just a quick tease of how good the pudding is about to be. If you only got that, well. you would be sorely disappointed. It just is a fraction of the exquisiteness that is about to enfold in your mouth.

Life is so much like this sometimes. We get a quick sample of something and are left yearning for more. Or  even left just knowing that the whole thing is so much better. Maybe its abnormal but I feel this way with people sometimes. Its like when all you get is a text or a fb message or an email you are just left feeling like you only got a sample. Such a small piece compared to what it was like to see them or hangout or just be together.

I got the most miraculous mail today. It was part of a package I had ordered from my favourite artist. A young man who's music has been touching my life since high school days. I was psyched to see how his solo album turned out. And then I got a poster that thanked me for launching his solo career (standard poster right) and then for being from Canada, that was funny in and of itself. It should be noted that I actually became friends with him a few years back which was so epically amazing because he is crazy down to earth and a solid guy. And then he sent along a friendly note and random photos of himself. It was hilarious. I like that I know someone that is a tiny bit famous and that he is such a dear because it makes me feel special and remembered.

But to tie it all together, it just reminded me how much better it was when I could just go to his shows and chat with him, and then at his shows I would go with JD and her and I would giggle and be us. And then I think about Provo and other humans that I miss and then my family. And I just realize that skype and facebook and text messages and phone calls are great. But they will never be quite as good as being with those people. Just like how licking the package is never going to be quite as good.

More Than an Accumulation of Labels

Eyes closed. Breath overcoming all over sensation. Your mind is silencing as the foreign music blocks out any other thoughts. You are allowing yourself to let go. Welcome to the end of my classes. This morning I was filling in again at a club I prefer. I have never received so much positive feedback about anything in my life as I do there. After taking all of their classes last week and another one today I feel reminded. Reminded of what I love and why I do it. 

Reminders come with questioning though. I wonder why I am a graduate student. Why I didnt just pursue this full time. I honestly love yoga with a passion thats incomparable in my life. The only other thing that brings me that feeling of satisfaction, purity and accomplishment is writing. And yet neither of these things are my life. How do we get on the paths we are on and when do we know if they are right?

I can undoubtably say that when I teach a solid class and people leave feeling renewed and even come up to thank me I feel honoured. Honoured that I could be a part of their practice and that they would share such a personal and meaningful meditation with me. I regret that I dont spend more time on my own practice. I am really striving to change that.

This week has left me full of doubt. Of questions and waiting. Wishing answers or relief would come sooner and succumbing to the reality that some things are out of my hands. The plausibility of having to leave here temporarily and the thought of the worst option, deferring or leaving the program, have come up. At first I thought I couldnt handle either. That if I had to go home for personal reasons that I would just be letting everyone down, my employers, my students, my housemates, friends, professors, and that one special person. And yet I think I have come to realize that being here doesnt define me. Being a student isnt me, being a yoga teacher isnt me. I am so much more than  just an accumulation of labels and because of this I will handle what happens. I will weigh out the options I am presented with on Wednesday and I will find answers and make an informed decision, and if that means a short trip home I will make it work.

This week has played more mental games with me than I would like. It has pushed me to the limits involving physical pain, emotional exhaustion and physical fatigue and yet I am sitting here feeling refreshed as I finally feel like I am not alone and that I can make it.

This Place Is Far More Inappropriate Than The Appropriate Place

I write things I know are personal, or perhaps shouldnt be wrote on here. Knowing that fact doesnt stop me though. It just is something I know. Although sometimes I  hold back. I think of things I want to say and know that its too much, too overwhelming or just not right for this forum. So finding the appropriate place to share the right things is hard. In knowing this I feel blessed to have found the right place twice.

The first time it was in a setting of safety and honesty. A room where no one would judge and people would ask the hard questions only because they wanted to help. A place where I saw people and loved them due to their flaws, where my heart broke for other people and where I knew they were looking out for me.

The second time was unexpected. It is a group. A group I found through social media none the less. A group I found because I wanted information. I wanted to know I wasnt alone. And then one day I wrote something and realized I was so entirely not alone. That other people knew the exact way I felt, that they had the same frustrations and that they didnt want anyone to feel alone. A place where my heart breaks when I hear of their pain and their  lack of solutions. A place where I can say exactly what I am feeling and not have to explain everything. Where they just know.

I wish there wasnt people that felt the way I feel sometimes. We all think that though I am pretty sure. We never want someone else to experience anything bad. And yet I am so grateful that other people know and understand. That they can make me feel so much less alone when alone is all I know how to feel when it comes to some things. The appropriate place makes the words flow so much easier.

The Only Rabbit Worth Writing About

Twenty years ago a boy was born. Not a rabbit, a boy. However, being the precocious child I was I hated boys. I decided that if said baby was a boy I would call him Spit to represent my disliking of the gender. I did so for nearly twenty years and sometimes still do. However, he is known by many names and some numbers. One name involves a rabbit. So today I am dedicating my words to this rabbit. One that continually changes my life.

I find it is seldom that someones actions shock you in such a way that you could cry out of the disbelief for their love for you. That they do something that seems so outstanding and selfless in the name of protecting you. I used to look at this rabbit as a small young thing, someone I would look out for. Even as he grew and became much taller and stronger I felt the sense to nurture him and look after him. I didnt even realize when the time came and he suddenly was the one protecting me, actually, all of us. His own words expressed how he thought of himself as the lion looking out for the pride. That the felt a sense of responsibility to protect us as the man of the home. His words and concern showed me a glimpse of a man, a man so devoted to his family that he would never back down. I dont know when I went to sleep and he transformed from a little boy,  I really dont.

I still think of when we would play in the trees or when he handcuffed the babysitter to the tramp. Or when we used to play street hockey. I think of him as the little boy that would play lego with me. I sometimes can think of him growing up and playing football, and the anxiousness I would feel each time he got hit. But rarely did I think of him as the man that would one day take us all under his wings and protect us.

I feel blessed to have a little brother that acts as a big brother and would do anything for me. I am honoured to be associated with him and to have someone care so deeply. I often wish I could take away the pain he must feel but he continually puts the girls first and ensures our needs are met. I love you more than anything and would give my life for you Matty Rabbit. Happy Birthday. And thank you for never leaving.

Tension and The Terror

The tension is palpable. Not figuratively. Literally. I can feel the tension. It is a reminder of days long passed. Of days of pain, discouragement and searching for answers. Days that were so long ago it seems like a different life. A time when I was young and nieve and impressionable. The tension brings terror this time. It feels like a forewarning of a road that may approach without any options of exiting.

My lack of coping becomes blatantly obvious. I was asked if I was pretending I was okay, I was. I felt defeated and exhausted and possibly overwhelmed. Who am I kidding, I feel that way still. But I did what I do. I bought dinosaur shaped pasta so my dinner would make me smile and I bought hair dye. I usually just cut my hair when I cant control something in my life but the agony of growing it out is finally lessening so I cant give in and take a massive step back by chopping it. So for the next 6-8 washes the colour may be slightly different. Everyone has to cope somehow. To try and take the reigns of a carriage they arent even close to.

I still feel the tension. I feel the fear that things could spiral. That in seconds I could lose control. Yet I dont feel near as alone as I expected. So maybe it all will be okay because I know that whatever happens I dont have to stand there alone with tears in my eyes.

Foreigners and Health Care Never Mix

I am good at being foreign. I have practiced for quite some time. In fact, when I attempt to fit in and be Aussie I mostly just fail miserably. So being foreign is possibly on my list of skills. And this is something I dont mind. I love travel and experiencing new places. I have chose both of my out of country moves and have been quite satisfied with them. Although I often forget the biggest downside of growing up in a country with impecable health care and then moving elsewhere.

At home you go to the doctor and think nothing of it. A few scans, maybe a hospital stay or two. Not a big deal. Contrasting to the Americans. You need to stay in the hospital for surgery? Oh let me have your first born child as well as all of your family heirlooms. Oh you are having a baby? Well then, I will just take your soul, sign here. Fortunately for me living in the states was so close to Canada that I would just hop a plane or drive home for anything medical. Solved. Unfortunately Australia is proving to remind me of the Americans and this time I cant just pop in my car and appear home. One specialist appointment and the minimum cost will be 160. I feel that this is exorbitant, that its near extortion seeing how I actually do pay for health care. Apparently being foreign is just another way of being screwed if you arent healthy. I do appreciate the doctor telling me that if things arent working out maybe I will just have to go back home. Thank you for those kind words. I was hoping it would be suggested that I could drop out and lose everything I am working towards. Awful idea.

I like being foreign. I hate being foreign and not being impeccably healthy as apparently I will be signing away all of my skillz as well as any future children in the process of seeking good health. Cool.

Dressing Bad is Like Loving You, There's Nothing I Havent Worn

Resonance. Lyrics continue to shape my thoughts, perhaps because I seldom am without music playing, perhaps because they make more sense to me than any other form of expression. Regardless, I have been mulling these ones over for days. Dressing can be stressful for me. I have a lot of clothes and nothing I havent worn. I can toss clothes around the room frantically wishing I could find the right article for the situation. My closet and baskets are in dire straights as they are overflowing the brims. Yet its all in an attempt to not dress poorly. To put on the most accurate image of myself as people see you before they get to know you.

And somehow this brings me back to falling in love. To the times when I look back and see where my emotions were so misplaced and just like me dressing bad. Putting on something that would never work. The times when I misunderstood love and just wanted someone there for the sole purpose of being there. When I would have worn anything.

Time passes. People change. Dressing bad is less frequent. Loving you is becoming more plausible. Time to clean out the closet.

Three Times Ten Plus Two Hundred and Seventy

Prologue. I started writing for no real reason. Just because I could. And now I find it drives me. The ability to release my inner thoughts and not feel pressure or judgement is freeing. I feel like the last three hundred minus one posts have helped me to heal, to recognize love and loss and to learn. My writing has taught me more about myself than I ever realized I need to know.  

Tonight I realized that sometimes you have to say the hardest things, things that may mean nothing to someone else, because they mean everything to you. Opening up to the point where you no longer feel like you are hiding is refreshing. And painful. I wont sit here and type that it isnt hard. That sharing what hurts you most with someone is easy. It is heartwrenchingly difficult. Yet in knowing that I finally am not hiding behind some mask of strength that is really just face painted on and will fade with tears feels rewarding. I dont know at all the real reaction. Perhaps my words were a lot less on the other end. But looking back and realizing that I started writing because I couldnt vocalize words and now have learned how to allow someone in amazes me. 

My writing has saved me. It has brought me out of times of pain, depression, aching, loneliness and it also has helped me grow. I hope that one day something I write will help someone, or mean something to someone else. Three times ten plus two hundred and seventy has saved me from myself.

For TPAB Lovers

For those few people, so maybe like one human, who has been reading this words long enough to know about the TPAB series, well this one is for you. As usual on a Thursday I went to teach. Typical, this has been basically every Thursday for nearly 6 months. I was stoked tonight, mostly because I just really love yoga. So class came and went and it was normal and nice and I felt good. Then TPAB came up. I nearly died and didnt hear what he said at first because I was so shocked. He is Australian! How confusing! HIs accent just stunned me. I didnt ask his name because I secretly dont want him to have a name other then TPAB, but update, he is not American. On to next week when I will look at him in confusion as he walks in wondering if he knows that I thought he was american for 6 months.

The Reality of Mini Donuts

If you feel curious about the analogy I am about to make to mini donuts I am pre-apologizing. There is not analogy. This is actually me posting about how mini donuts are real. After over four long years my beloved JD has come to her senses. I received one of the best messages of my life this arvo as she sent me a picture of a mini donut sign and admitted to their reality. After years and years of pictures, facial expressions, words and animated arguments she believes. I have heard that believing without seeing is faith. Apparently her faith in me and mini donuts was no existant. However, I am excessively happy to report that she knows they are real. The thought of the, brings that sugary coating of bliss into my mouth. Oh how I miss rodeos and 2/$5 mini donuts.

Addendum.

In light of further information I would like to addend yesterdays post. Regardless of the fact that I had to pee so bad that I must have super bladder muscles which prevented any accidents, I have discovered it was not the fact I had to pee. I definitely get butterflies around you. I realized this when you texted me while I was on the train to work. Problem solved. It was butterflies not me having to pee.

Turn Tables Turn and Tables Turn

I have a turn table. It plays music that envelops the room and captivates both my attention and my soul. The music and words fill a space that most people wouldnt even know was empty. Yet those arent even the turning tables most on my mind. My posts over the months or years have often been full of tales of love and heartache and longing and loneliness and growth, some people are indirectly wrote about repeatedly and others just once. There was this one inspiration for quite some time. The words recorded in the past would indicate torn feelings and epicness along with gratefulness and annoyance. Regardless, there are so many words already written on this individual.

And today, one a very rare occasion I found the tables unrighted. Words of affirmation were seeked and for once I felt like he needed me more than I needed him. I saw weakness so cleverly masked and a hint of aching. And for each hidden thought or feeling that was uncovered my heart ached a tiny bit. I just wished I could have been on that side of the world to express how much more amazing he is than most people. How he has things more figured out than the average person and that his insane passion to follow his dreams and to live life doing things that he enjoys is captivating and contagious.

He has picked me up from my lowest points and carried me until I could stand again. He has been that person that knew the most inappropriate thing to say to make me laugh when all I could do was cry. He has been the one to hear everything that I said, didnt want to say and the things I just didnt say and yet never looked down on me. He is someone that everyone would be lucky to truly know. He wont read this, but in those hours today when I had the chance to remind him of his epicness it felt like I was actually stepping up when it was my turn. And I appreciated every second that I could help. And yet even with the unrighted tables he still checked up on our last convo that had kept me awake during hours I should have been asleep.

Some people change your life. Then they leave. And some people change your life and never leave. Regardless of the miles and countries and oceans I hope that we always can be that person for each other. Someone that will listen regardless of the hour or the issue and never judge.  I hope when you grow up you have a robot that will put your pants on for you. Enjoy your lame package, it should arrive in two weeksish.

I Got Butterflies, Or I Just Really Had To Pee

Perhaps I wouldnt post this if I stopped long enough to think of how inappropriate this may be. However, in this current moment I feel in a sharing mood so here it goes. You know how when you really really have to pee but for some reason you cant? Perhaps you have to have a full bladder for a medical exam, or you are in a car and cant stop, or you hate public restrooms, or maybe there just arent any bathrooms or trees around. So imagine that feeling, the one where you are pretty sure you are going to wet yourself any moment, especially if you move or are bumped. Yep, thats how this morning was for me. So prior to finally being able to pee I said a quick thanks hoping out of the car and then it happened. No, I didnt wet myself. i got those insane butterflies that scream how much I like you. And its been a long time since I have felt that. But I had to pee so badly made thats all I was feeling. I am scared to think that you actually elicit that feeling.

A Craving Most Unsatisfied

Do you ever get the insane urge for something? Like you wont be complete unless you get it as soon as possible. I had that tonight. I just wanted candy corn more than anything. And when the Australians nearby didnt know what it was I felt shattered. Regardless, I could have skipped to the shops as I was sure I could find it. That moment mid aisle realizing that it wasnt going to be found felt shattered. It was a moment when you feel tragically sad about something you know is insignificant, yet you are sad nonetheless. Perhaps your arms that found their way around me meant more than anything else could have.

I still am craving them. Probably because I cant have them and I am notorious for wanting what I cant have.

Is This Duct Tape?

I grew up knowing that duct tape was like the force, it has a dark side, a light side and it holds the world together. So as I reanalyze so many words and circles and confusion and emotion I wonder if this is duct tape or if its really just a bandaid trying to mask a massive gash that needs stitches or else it will bleed out. I am unsure. I have felt ecstatic, like I have been locked in a jail and the dog just brought me the keys. And then I have felt unsure, apprehensive and afraid to step out of the cell into the world to see if its real. If your thoughts and words actually are saying what I want them to say.

I have my fingers crossed that this is duct tape for now. I guess I will find out tomorrow.

I'd Be Lying If I Told You, Losing You Was Something I Could Handle

This one is for you. My fingers are crossed that you give in and read this. But if you dont at least its out of my head. So here are a few of the words I wish I was saying to you but cant because my jaw is clenched and my eyes are wide and my head is tilted and neither of us can take that tonight.

I didnt wear my onesie when I knew you were coming over because I got nervous that you wouldnt think I was pretty wearing oversized childrens pajamas. Every sunday when we discussed sunday secrets I knew that I was getting closer to telling you my secrets, the ones that were hard to say. And I did. I started telling you everything. And when I left I was scared that one month would be long enough for you to forget me cuz we were just friends that hung out every saturday night and then lots of other nights. So when you were the first person I saw I was ecstatic. I had missed you. And then I realized that I like liked you but I just thought you didnt look at me that way so then I was awkward and made things awkward and then you fixed it. And then I realized that I got nervous that you would just leave. And I didnt study with you because I didnt want you to think I was dumb because you always seemed to know more than me. I hated when we got to the last episode of misfits because I wondered if we wouldnt have a reason to hangout most nights. And I made you that bracelet cuz I wanted you to think of me when I wasnt there because I didnt know if maybe you just forgot about me when I wasnt around. And then it all didnt matter. Because everything had changed. The moment I realized how perfect it was it was all taken away.

I thought I was too broken for someone to love me or for me to fall in love. I thought that the hole inside of me was too big to be fixed by one person or fixed at all. I just thought that I liked seeing you everyday. That you were the first person I wanted to see when I got back. That you made me smile. That I couldnt help but glance at you during class.  I just thought that you inspired me sometimes and were a good listener. I just thought that you made me  incredibly happy each time you kissed me. I didnt realize that the second you were gone I would feel empty and that it would feel like a deatheater was deatheating me. I didnt think I would feel so alone and tragic and like I had been repeatedly punched in the stomach. I thought this was because we were best friend but now I think this means that I love you.

And if thats true then it explains why everything reminds me of you. Why I cant let it just go. It explains why I get nervous around you and why I am going crazy. I am not ready to resign myself to the fact that one single thing is keeping us apart. I want to find a compromise. Find a way to fix it. Cant we just meet at that line and find a compromise? So I am standing at the line that separates us putting out my hand with my head tilted to the side and my eyes wide open just hoping that you will meet me there and that you wont let me go. Please be worth all of this.

I like you a lot with a strong chance that I more than like you.

The Story of the Demise of Logan Timothy

Logan Timothy isnt a real boy. Logan Timothy will likely never be a real boy now. So I am telling his story so it doesnt go untold. Logan Timothy could have been a real boy maybe in the future, but fate played a cruel hand and Logan Timothy became nothing more than an imagined child with a name. A name inspired by Rachel and Ross choosing baby names. A  name resultant from vetoing and compromise.

Logan Timothy would have had a happy life. A life full of painting and music and wrestling. He probably would have liked pokemon , dinosaurs and creepy animals. He would have liked the outdoors and sports and reading. He would have been the raddest kid around.

Sadly this is not a tale of the happy variety. It is a tale of how he didnt exist. How two people. compared obscurely to Romeo and Juliet, were nearing love and were torn apart. It's about how things dont always work out when they feel like they should. When reconciliation seems so close but impossible.

Logan Timothy could have been the boy I wanted one day, even though I dont particularily like the name Logan. But he wont be. He wont exist. Not unless there is a sacrifice made. Romeo and Juliet both die. Logan Timothy doesnt exist. How tragic is the world we live in.

Two broken hearts dont beat any less.

Every Song Ends, But is That Any Reason Not to Enjoy The Music

I just hit repeat so that I dont have to feel disappointment when the song ends. Or I listen to it anyways because I know for those few minutes the song will shape the moment, that the lyrics will hit me and maybe thats all I need. Maybe all I need is to know that in this moment I am going to make the most of it instead of missing out now in apprehension of the future. So why cant we shape the moment?

I wish I could write how I understand. How it wasnt hard to see you. How I didnt cry the second you left after dropping off my things I had left behind. But I cant. I dont understand. I dont know why you cant want to enjoy every second until there is no hope in it working anymore. Its like I can see the golden snitch just out of reach and would be willing to fight for it. Why dont you feel that way? Why cant I just let go? I just want to enjoy the music until its over, but it seems like you cut the music mid song instead of letting it play out. I would loop the song on replay if it meant that we got to be us.

I cant give in and text you goodnight because I am supposed to let go, so if you find this some way know that I wanted to say goodnight like we did every night.

Heartbeats

Every heartbeat feels a little weaker than they did before. Each one is a little less heartfelt. They felt so much stronger when I could feel yours beating back. But I am alone again. Alone and the heartbeats feel faint as the organ is breaking. Breaking in agony that I didnt anticipate. The moment I knew you felt the same way back was overshadowed by the realizations that it wasnt going to work, that if it hurt this much now than how much harder would it be later. I opened up to you, I told you my secrets in return for yours. I found a way to let the hardest parts of my life out to you because I knew you would treasure them, that you wouldnt ever diminish a precious thought I shared. And I want to write that its okay, that we are okay, because I told you that. But I just said that in hopes that your heart would break a little less than mine was. You said I couldnt blame myself, but even as the tearful words poured out of your lips I was. That broken feeling I tried to explain to you feels so much worse now. It was as if you were the one keeping me in reality, reminding me that I wasnt engulfed in brokenness, and now you are gone, leaving me more broken and alone than ever. I keep wishing that you didnt have to walk out that door, that you would have looked back, that something about my hung head, shaking body and tearstreaked face would scream to you that you couldnt leave. That we could do it. But you didnt look back as I stood in the doorway. I respect you for making the decision I couldnt make. But that doesnt make it hurt any less. My heartbeats will skip when I see your face across the room tomorrow, and I will feel like someone is ripping out my heart with a rusty spoon. All I wanted was to fall in love with you and now I cant. I am sorry. I wish it was different.

Back to square one.

My Lack of Skill

In my head I have a lot more skills than in real life. Or maybe its more like in my head I have more faith that I could do things that I really most likely cant do. Lately my lack of skills has been more obvious than usual. Tonight I learned that I am not very good at pole dancing. Perhaps with more classes I could gain some skills, however, after one intro class my shins are tender and my abs got more of a workout than anything else. I also have realized that my fighting skills are minimal. I can talk it up but when it comes down to it, if its me vs a boy I will lose. Its not for a lack of effort, just a lack of size and skills.  I also have realized that I am not very good at hangman or painting or drawing most of the time. I think its time for me to do things I am skilled at or to obtain new skills so that I dont realize my lack of skills.

Until then I will stick with my ninja, nunchuk and mind reading skills.

I'll Paint Just One Portrait

The therapeutic effect of a canvas and paints never ceases to astound me. I am the first to admit that my skills are low, and by low I mean that I paint with my fingers and my pictures look like a kindergartener painted them. But for some reason I cherish them a bit. Perhaps its because I only seem to paint with people that I like, or maybe its because I crave that feeling of accomplishment. Or maybe I just like getting paint on my face. Or perhaps I like the fact that silence while painting exudes concentration and not awkwardness. All plausible options. Regardless, once the paint is washed away and all that is left is a picture to be placed on someone elses wall I feel content.

You bought a set of paints. And then brushes, ones that I may envy because mine are crap. We painted because I wanted to the first time, now you seem to thrive off of it. Is it okay that I secretly smile about your art knowing I was the one that got you back into it? You impress me. So lets paint one portrait and I'll hang it up.

In That Moment

That instant when you realize its not reality and it has just been an awful twisted nightmare you are flooded with emotion. Confusion, agony, sadness and relief all seem to swell up. Tears spill out and your mind races. You dont know what to do. You are afraid to sleep yet exhausted. Perhaps you immediately turn on soothing music to drown out your mind. Or maybe you grab your phone and start texting or calling. I wanted to text you but you would have been asleep and what if you didnt understand. So I called the safest number but it was midday and no one answered.  I can only imagine what the replaying of that message was like. A tired, scared, sad voice admitting to a nightmare. Technology connected me with the youngest, but most caring girl. My little sister offered sympathy and words of comfort. She never ceases to amaze me. But as I reclosed my eyes the false reality seemed real once again. The images and fear flooded back and I wondered how the things that should be safest had become my worst nightmares. In that moment I knew things would never be the same. The haunting nightmares are a constant reminder that I am broken and that I am still scared in ways I would never want to admit. But amidst the pain I realized that I am not alone. No matter how haunting those images are they are fleeting, and when they find their way across my mind I can escape and in my escape I can at least find my precious little sister who would give anything to protect me. You may have left each of us but we stuck together and will end up stronger than you ever were.

The Moon is Just the Backside of the Sun

Days come and days go, and so few make an impression. So few feel like they are changing everything. But sometimes they are. I think the last few days were days like that, at least for this chapter of my life. I have felt something I havent felt in a long time. I have had moments where all I can do is laugh and smile because you make me happy. I am grateful that I met you long enough ago that I could learn to feel comfortable and share secrets with you. That makes it easier now. Although not entirely easy. I admit I am going crazy sometimes. But I am trying to hide those bits of crazy.

When Janitor met Lady he acted proper, then Carla told him not to lie, so he let all of his crazy out and then it was overwhelming so Carla interjected and prevented that. Ergo I know that I cant let it all out at once. So I started blogging about it, I had work and life so I didnt finish the post, plus my laptop is password protected, so I didnt expect you to ever read it. Then you borrowed it to get us notes and next thing I knew you were interjecting my own words into our conversation. You know I am crazy and you havent run yet. Maybe I should tell you that I am crazy about you, but that might be too much.

So for now I want you to know that you make me smile and that I like just sitting and painting or listening to records or wrestling or wearing my onesie cuz it gets me free ice cream. I like that you admit that you see me looking at you in class cuz you are looking at me, which makes us sound like we are fifteen. I like you.

My Residual

I felt powerful, like I had overcome something like rock climbing a mountain face. My path appeared so much easier. I was ready for the flat ground, the rest from climbing. I didnt realize there was residual affects that I couldnt see. Its comparable to the ache in your forearms post climbing, an aching you cant see but you definitely cant feel.

This residual lies in the fear of being left. That I will wake up and you will have changed your mind. That there will be a text or voicemail or something telling me everything has changed. Except it wont say that, it would say that you are leaving but things will be okay. Words that mean nothing. Words that just will tear you apart.

You are not him. I really dont think you would do that. And is there even anything to walk away from at this point? I dont know. I just know that I feel something deep inside me that says I can be left. That even when I think the path is level and that I am prepared that something can come and shake everything. I dont want to be afraid of you leaving. I dont want to be left. But this is a residual effect of choices that I didnt make. I guess its not over yet, there are still wells of pain I have yet to uncover.

Smitten

A good solid word right there. It was recently used not in reference to me and then next thing I knew it was describing that weird feeling that I had been suppressing. I realized that I am entirely smitten. And for me that is crazy scary but at the same time it makes me happy. Happy in the way that I smile and bite my lip because I dont want to feel like that goofy smile is noticeable to others. Its the way that when I close my eyes I think about him and it gives me that awkward feeling in my stomach. Its the fact that he makes me laugh and smile when he isnt trying. I am really smitten, to the point where I know I feel awkward talking about my feelings but I have to at some point. I havent felt this way in a long time, and it freaks me out. I told you I kinda like you and I hope I dont have to say more than that to keep you around because that was about as much as I can say about feelings. But deep down I am really smitten and happy, so I hope he sticks around for quite some time.

Penny For Your Thoughts

I have a tendency to say whatever I am thinking. Usually before I have thought about it. Even when I have thought about it and partially dont want to say it, I still will because I get this overwhelming feeling that doesnt go away unless I say things. So I just say things and then backtrack when necessary.

But not everyone is like that. A lof of the time I look at people and just wonder what they really are thinking. Most of the time I wonder what you think. The other day I wish I could have just given you a penny to see the slightest glimpse into what I didnt know involving your thoughts. Maybe it would work. Maybe I could offer pennies.

Then again sometimes that feeling when someone voluntarily decides to share something dusty that they dont often say, well that is nearly indescribable. Like this evening. I was shocked and so touched in that moment when an unexpected thought was shared.

Maybe a penny for my thoughts is more appropriate tonight.

The Music Box

They always have such hauntingly eerie songs. Ones that take you back to some other place and time and somehow captivate your soul. Its music unlike anything else. It is as if they are trapped memories trying to find their way out. I love it, them. Especially this one. It feels like more than a small box that exudes music with the turning of a handle. It feels like a doorway into something dark and hidden yet fascinating and beautiful. I am captivated.

The Security of Airports

I appreciate they are secure. That they have many measures to try and prevent anything tragic from happening. However, sometimes I do wonder when we reach a point that it seems unnecessary or really just overly inconvenient. For example, the other day in lax (pronounced not as individual letters but as one word as that is how I would say it), I had to wait in a little plastic box with tons of people around it waiting for who knows who they were paging. So then a man came and swabbed my hands! I then got to wait as they ran a test. I was released for the box and went on my way. How weird and random! Do I look like my child sized hands need to be swabbed for who knows what? No.

Then I get to another airport where they randomly decide to use the wand on me to check for who knows what again since I already had went through a detector. I then got to board a plan and wait 2.5 hours on the plane before it left because some maintenance or something had to be done. How inconvenient. Cant they do that not when my plane is supposed to be flying?

Needless to say, after 24 hours of travel I just wasnt that impressed with each little security thing that seemed unnecessary. Perhaps they should realize that I just am not crazy and not carrying anything not allowed and just not hassle me in the future. That would be pleasant.

Sacred Heart Hospital

A place of love, laughter, learning and life saving. Sacred Heart is such a treasured place for me. When I close my eyes I can picture Hank at the security gate of sasha in the parking lot, or the emergency entrance sign, or the front doors, or the windows and their faces from them, or the different roofs. I can see it all so clearly. So imagine how magical it was to see it in life. Not just through film but actually be standing next to the building. It was one of the most beautiful and yet heart wrenching moments.

There is only one person I know that would appreciate this building the way I do, JD. Sacred Heart was the place that fostered JD and Turk's relationship as well as all of their other relationships. So JD and I went there. It was harder to find then we initially expected and then we found it. It was being torn down. I shouldnt have been surprised. It wasnt in use when they filmed so after the show ended I suppose the lot in North Hollywood was seen to be too valuable to just hold an abandoned building. It made me sad inside though. I wish I could have someone petitioned it and made it a landmark. However, it is a landmark in my soul.

Perhaps its crazy that I can say that a building I never have stepped in means this much to me. Perhaps I am crazy because I talk like Turk and JD and the Janitor and Dr Cox and Elliot and Carla are like my friends and I am interested in their lives. But crazy is fine with me because those people taught me a lot.

JD taught me that being emotionally driven can beneficial, and that being white means you can get people to yell white lightening when you score, and that having a unicorn to help you make decisions is important.

Turk was like me, a bit more wary of emotions. He taught me how to truly love someone and what friendship means. Along with how to choose what chocolate bar to eat.

Dr Cox taught me how to help people help themselves. And that a hard exterior is a front for a soft inside. And that putting your hands behind your head helps you make decisions.

Elliot taught me that being a hot mess can get you somewhere and that being crazy isnt always a bad thing. And that you have to go through a lot of relationships to find the right one.

Carla taught me the importance of families and remembering your culture. She also taught me how to be bossy.

The Janitor taught me so many crucial things, most importantly that the moon is just the backside of the sun.

Laverne taught me to always love Jesus.

Dr Kelso taught me that being old and retired is awesome, especially if you get free muffins and that you dont have to treat people different if they are in a wheelchair.

Ted taught me that my life is awesome.

The Todd taught me the importance of high fives and banana hammocks.

I learned more from this show then from most college courses.

The moment I eagled in front of Sacred Heart with JD was one of the best moments of my life. It was so good I want to have sex with that moment. (note the scrubs quote reference). Thank you for enriching my life Sacred Heart.

-Turk

Soulmates

I havent blogged about my soulmate enough. Dont get the wrong idea here. I didnt go and have my cards or palm or anything else read. I didnt have a dream about someone I should marry. I just happen to know someone that is clearly a soulmate. Her name is JD. Not in real life on her birth certificate but it should be. JD is one of those people that when I met her I didnt realize that she would change my life. She was a random housemate who I met awkwardly and somehow became everything I needed in a friend, housemate, counsellor etc. She filled all the roles I didnt fill. Mine were along the lines of cook, head of reasoning, the unemotional one etc.

If you met us seperately you would think we are opposites. However, the second you leave us in the same room we will be talking and laughing nonstop. Mostly about things that make no sense to outsiders. Such as the human book, incessant scrubs quotes and stabbing.

[It may seem like this post is so random and scattered and it is. I have been up since 2am aussie time and my head says its 530am so my body is aching with tiredness and I am so ready to sleep, so disregard anything nonsensical.]


So when I first came here JD took me to the airport and was the last person I see. Why break tradition? So I flew to see her on my way back. And I dont even feel bad saying that those 40ish hours with her were probably the best of my trip (minus grandparent moments). Every second with her is perfect in the way that it brings out the best of me. She makes me laugh and we only get into good kinds of trouble. And our excessively different but the same personalities forms the perfect mixture. So when I went crazy missing my wallet just before leaving she was calm. And when she was crazy about a dragon I was calm and full or reasoning.

So when I was at the airport and we hugged goodbye like six times I wanted to cry. I dont like not knowing when I will see her again. And let me attest that she has only seen me cry 3 times in 4 years so thats saying a lot!

So I guess I just wanted to say that soulmates are the best because they are those unexpected people that just perfectly fit into your life and make you the best person you can be. They are the ones that can make you laugh harder than anyone else, and also know exactly what to say when you cry. They will sacrifice for you and always give you the best presents. And they are the ones that you dont have to see everyday and everything will still be insanely perfect when you do see them.

I think I just am feeling super ultra blessed to have randomly met someone that has been changing my life and making me a better person for the last four years. I am already so freaking excited for the next time I get to see her crazy face and that may not be for a lot of days.

Water/Land Dragons Unite!

"This is what it would be like if you had two lesbian moms Cameron."

Welcome to a world where I get to be in Kaitys house with her and every moment is magical. It was brought to my attention that I have not blogged about her enough which is tragic since my love for her is greater than my love for nearly all humans. Which is another reason we are working on a special project about humans.

Moving forward. So time with her is probably like what it would be like for you if you saw a unicorn. We were just being normal and playing MASH yesterday and I got the worst results and it actually bummed me out as if it was real. Oh how MASH messes with young hearts and heads. We also began taking several random quizzes to learn about ourselves. Enter Jessica. We learned that Kaity is both the sun and moon, Jessica is like Voldemort, Jonathan is my future lover from the story we had to read and so on. I think these quizzes will help us shape our futures, they seem pretty legit.

Needless to say, my life is so much completer in this home. I already feel a twinge of sadness knowing I cant just bring her on the plane with me tonight. However its time to find ninja clothes or something of the like for our usual round of photos. 

Without Tears Will You Forget Me?

I think I wanted to see more tears. Not because I like crying, I really hate it. I just wanted to know I would be missed. That you realized I wasnt coming back soon, likely a year and a half. So I just wanted to see that you loved me so much that you were sad I was leaving. I didnt see tears on any of your faces and yet my eyes were full of tears.

I love my life there, I truly do. But I am one of those secretly sentimental people when it comes to family and I cant help it but tear up when I know I wont see there faces for such a long time. I will miss you and worry about each of you. Dont forget me.

High Stakes Bingo

Walking away from a bingo game with a handful of records, including Jane Fonda's workout and a Beatles 45 is amazing in and of itself. And yet that is nothing compared to the necklace from a New Years Gala in the 1950's or the veil from a Christening in the 50's along with the cross necklace that accompanied it. Rings from decades ago were also present.

It reminded me that it was more than a bingo game. In fact bingo was just a reason. Nothing really significant. The significance was all in the giving up of a saturday night to spend time with them. To just listen to their stories and laugh. The worst part about going back is wondering how their health with be when I come home again. I never want to lose them so every bingo game means more than a prize. Although this round of prizes will be constant memories when a time comes and I cant play bingo with them anymore.

Like a Heart Attack I Know I Cant Go Back

Somethings you cant change. You cant go back on. They happen or you make them happen and then that is that. Your only option is to move on and look forward. I forget this often.  Its so easy for me to look back and try and walk back into a life that isnt there. Into a mirage or illusion. To walk back to people that were in another life, a time before I grew up or moved away one of the many times I left.

But with heart attacks or traumatic things we often look back and realize we dont want to be that person anymore. That this event has made us stronger, has shaped us into a better person. So I dont want to go back. I dont want things to be like they were before. They cant anyways. But I dont even want it. I would rather stay strong, independent and have grown than to go back to being nieve and weak like I was before.

Maybe thats the lesson I needed to learn.

I want it more than anything. I really do. I used to be so strong willed and independent and stubborn. And now I would give anything for that dependence. I dont know what happened. I dont know when I changed. All I know is that I crave it. I yearn for it. I feel ready, I feel like now I could handle it and do it right. And yet it seems so far out of my reach.

When will it be my turn?

Prays for Another Lifetime

I had this whole other thought going on. Something else I was writing. But it all seems so petty and irrelevant at this moment. In a moment of perhaps inspiration I went to a page I usually only go to to torture myself. A page of someone I love dearly but everything has changed so seeing that face just breaks me. But tonight I did and saw that his father has cancer.

If you know me, you know that cancer is one of the few things that breaks me instantly. Within moments my heart was breaking and my mind was racing. I remembered all of the stupid, beautiful times I had with that man. The first time we were introduced, to the time in the haunted house when they all saw me at my weakest. I remembered the love that family reached out to me instantaneously and how they radiated with joy and welcoming. If only I had been so lucky as to have had them as my inlaws.

I sent a message of concern and love, sadly technology provided me with the last message sent. It seems like a lifetime ago. It was. And yet my heart still broke as I remembered the saddest breakup ever. Possibly the one that got away. The one that I know I could have married. The one that married someone else in a timeframe that seemed too soon. I wish I could say we remained friends. That you were still part of my life. But the only part of our lives that touch is those moments when I am here praying for your family hoping your father will be alright, that you will all be strong enough, and know you are strong enough, for this grueling time.

I love you. I love your whole family. And I will be praying for you.

A Win For My Pathetic Hypocrisy

I didnt watch their wedding. I didnt care. In fact I had a few things to say about it. I mean I dont want randoms watching my wedding, its a private personal thing. So it just seems absurd for me to watch someone else's when I dont even know them.

However, today I someone sat outside for 4 hours along a fence by a building just to take photos of them coming in and out of a building. It wasnt my idea. Grandma thought it was important, maybe it was, but I went. And I enjoyed seeing them just meters away and realizing that they are real people. I also realized that I would hate that life. To have people waiting outside everywhere I go just wanting a glimpse of me. To have to have escorts and buildings checked for bombs. I just wouldnt enjoy that. End of my hyporcrisy today. Beginning of my patheticness.

He was a bit gorgeous and has his ducks in a row. He has a nice smile and was friendly and a bit charming. I was more nervous seeing him then the royalty I was there for. And I was too scared to get to know him. To strike up a conversation. He did have family there to host and an opportune time didnt happen. I mean it was not opportune when my whole family was staring with "get on that" eyes when he was in the office. I felt awkward, like I was a gawky teenager too scared to talk to a boy. It was pathetic. I think we could be friends, but we wont now because I just couldnt say much of anything as I let my shyness overrule anything else.

The hours I was there were full of hypocrisy and me being pathetic. I knew I left that place for a reason.

Octopus For Dinner

Thats the one thing you wouldnt like. Or at least thats what you said eight years ago when my mother asked what she should make for dinner when you came over. I definitely didnt know we would still be best friends this many years later. I just thought we would study a bit for biology, the skull specifically and my house was much closer than yours. I mean to get to yours I would have had to drive past the horses and the ghetto house.

Sometimes I wonder how we meet people. How we transition from acquaintance to friend to best friend. I wonder what role someone will play in my life when I start noticing their presence is more frequent, or their opinion is valuable. And then it makes me think of some of the other people that have made such an incredible difference in my life and dont know it. The advice that has shaped my future. The people that believed in  me long before I saw anything to believe in.

I dont know how we are still so close. We have barely lived in the same city let alone the same country in the last 6 years and yet that has never mattered. I cant wait for you to win the lottery and come visit me. If not you know I will come home, I always do. And maybe one day Mr Wilde will want to watch Mary Poppins with us, since apparently we are only friends because of him.

I am glad we didnt have octopus for dinner that first night.

You're The Voice

Today may have been one of the most perfect days of my life. It was just full of immense amounts of joy. It started with two and a half hours detailing my car. I do not like car related things in any way. So the thought of rubbing gasoline for hours sounded awful. And yet it was beautiful. My grandfather and I just super bonded and amidst it I realized he knew the Smiths and then randomly had one of their old records handy so sent that my way and then we listened to John Farnham on vinyl and bonded some more. We have decided a music day is required. Basically my grandpa is as cool as me when it comes to music. Although my record player is like a baby compared to his gorgeous one.

Then it was lunch with grandma which was full of laughs and joy and love. I wonder if two people could ever love  me more (besides the obvious family members that might). Those two seriously have shaped me. As I sat in the living room on the floor I realized I love everything about their place. Twenty acres just across from the city limits is miraculous. Its like an untouched haven of peace. And their house just screams memories and love from the wallpaper that I adore all the way to the rocking chairs and the juke boxes and arcade games. Everything is so perfect for how I want my grown up life to be.

As if that already hadnt made me the most at peace you can imagine. Then I went shopping. The first time since being home. And it was insane. Lululemon just brought the crazy out in me and it went on from there.

By the time I sat down with popcorn to watch say yes for the dress I just knew it had been a perfect day.

You told me I havent been happy since you met me. I am happy. And you wont even see it.

Pros vs Cons - My Indecision

I have choices to make. Some of which need to be made very soon. And yet I am avoiding them. I recognize all of the other overwhelming things in  my life and cling to them as a reason to procrastinate decision making. I dont like making hard choices, ones that dont have a clear answer, ones that may not have a good outcome either way. I am extremely skilled in avoiding this choices and leaving them to the last minute. Not a quality I admire in myself.

So as we were on the swings I laid it out for you. I told you one of my choices, and likely not the hardest one weighing down on me right now, but one I need to make. I told you my reasoning for both sides. I think the answer is clear. I just am afraid of offending someone. I want to make the other choice, the one that lets me try and relive a past that is not my present for a few days. To try and recapture things that are gone. To see people that I wish were more willing to do that much to see me. Reality is that if I make that choice I will just be living in the past. And the past left me saying goodbye in tears and my heart beginning to break. After eight months of healing maybe its time to move on. To stop trying to force the past to be my present. Maybe I need to grow up and just make a hard choice because it will be better financially and emotionally. Maybe disappointing a few people will be best in the long run.

I just cant seem to overcome this indecisiveness and make a firm decision. Its time to clear my head and think of my heart. I need to make the best choice as soon as I can recognize it.

Maybe I Came Back for You

Yesterday you hated us. You wanted to escape. You were bitter and angry. My heart was breaking for you. I didnt understand your anger. Your confusion. Tonight you cried in my arms. Your poor little heart was broken by a boy. Your first love perhaps.

I know I drive you nuts because I tease you. And that you hate it when I ask about boys. But I just do it because I love you. I love you all the time. Even when you hate me. I miss you when I am gone and feel like I have missed out on your growing up since I havent been around much in the last 5 years. But as I held you in my arms watching toddlers in tiaras many hours after the sun had went down, I realized you still are a little girl. You are young and fragile and afraid. You dont want to be alone, you just act tough to protect your heart that has been so severely damaged this past year. I am sorry babe. But I am here for you. I came back for you.

Gothic in Grandpa's Eyes

I thought carefully about what to wear. You cant look the worst when eating your own birthday cake and looking good for my grandparents is rather important to me. So several outfits were tried on prior to my departure. We were playing Bingo, mixing it up on a Saturday night. Yes, I have no shame in saying that most Saturday nights while I am home I am playing games with my grandparents, its what I do. So there I was, losing as usual.

"Dont be going gothic on me" or something of the sort, suddenly is coming from Grandpa's mouth as he looks at me sitting next to him. I didnt realize I was. I quickly reassured him and thought in my head "am I looking gothic?" I was a bit, but it was a typical outfit for me. Black tights, black tanktop, grey cardigan, black nails and toes. It probably doesnt help that my hair is barely off the shade of black. I  may have looked slightly gothic. Although it caught me rather off guard since I usually have bright colours on, minus the nails.

I accept it though. Grandpa tells it like it is, I look a bit gothic. I may listen to some emo music, correction, I will, this evening just to help solidify the feeling. My grandpa is cooler than yours.

My North American Tour

I used to think that 14 hours away was like a lifetime. That nothing could really withstand that distance. Now it has all changed. It feels like anywhere on the North American Continent is close. Its like anything is possible. Seeing anyone is no big deal. Its all so different. I am still hours and hours and hours away from people and the distance seems like we are across the street. I am trying to get everywhere, see everyone. And already the days feel like they are disappearing. Like I am losing control. There is just so much to see. I dont want to miss anything and yet things are already being missed.

I dont know when I will be back. I used to think it would be soon. I dont know why I thought that. Logically it makes no sense. I really wont be. Not at all in the next year and a half most likely. Unless something drastic happens. And drastic things tend to happen more than expected. So maybe I should expect something. Its just far, and expensive and my time off is so limited. So I have to do it all. See it all. Make every second count. I need this north american tour to be everything so I can hold onto it until I come back. My expectations are too high. I am setting myself up for disappointment. And yet I cant lower them. Not this time. So cross your fingers. Things may get crazy.

Disney's Greatest Downfall

I love the happiest place on earth. It really does make me epically happy, like a child. I will wait longest in a line for my favourite ride as a kid and then refuse to wait for my current favourite ride if the line is long. I guess sentiment and memories mean a lot. That place brings up a lot. Times as a child, family vacations, roadtrips with friends and bonding with a sibling. And yet at the core of it all there is a fatal flaw. One thing that rips at my heartstrings amidst the glory of it all. The love stories.

I am a sucker for Disney love stories. I grew up on Disney films and know most of them far too well. I may not be a princessy type of person in anyway but I cant help but smile when Aladin and Jasmin are together or when I think of Belle and the Beast, or Aurora and her prince.. and the list just goes on and on. The characters, the story, the romance, its is all so perfectly created. A clear example of why Disney has made such a name for itself over the decades. So what could possibly be the flaw amidst all of this perfection you ask?

Its the fact that I see love in that fairytale, perfect, happy ending, prince charming sort of way. I spent all of those secret mental moments in lines thinking of those endings and their beginnings and trying to piece something of the remnants of my past into anything near that. I searched those dark corners of my memory wondering if I missed something, if currently there was something brewing, if I even knew how those tales could translate to real life. I still dont know if I can come up with anything. The attempt to connect it just seems foggy and disjointed. I think Disney has entirely warped my sense and understanding of love, and I am not sure how I even feel about it.

Dorothy Got It Right

I have been gone before for months at a time. And coming home was always nice. Just nice. This time it wasnt like that. I finally understand Dorothy. There really is "no place like home". Maybe its because when my little brother walked in that door from work I ran and jumped up to hug him and he swung me around and I realized he is the one guy in my life that I know will always be there and will always love me. Or maybe I realized it when I saw how perfectly my mother had laid out a room for me with all of my favourite things, including spiderman fruit snacks. Or maybe just sitting at the dinner table laughing, or going to Walmart or watching stupid shows was all I would have needed It only took a few hours and I realized this will always be my real home.

I often feel like I have no sure ties. No place I have to go back to. That I am so free and can do anything I want anywhere I want. But ultimately I can never be gone from here for forever. I cant live without these people, even though I am sure in another day I will be writing about how mental they make me. Regardless, I am so happy at this moment and for once I know that Dorothy said it much better than I could have. I like being home.

The Sunday I Took Back

I did it in both ways. First I time travelled. Literally. I left Brisbane at 330pm on a sunday and arrived in LA just before 330 pm on the same day. It was like I made time stop and move back a bit. The day was so epically long. Then I went to Taking Back Sunday. John is back. Thats what matters most for them. What mattered most for me was I took the day back. I saw Adam and John and they played music that made my soul rather happy. And I flew to LA and I saw a best friend and my sister. No one could ask for much more in a day. Ever. I have like 7 seconds on the ridiculous expensive internet that exists in my hotel, but I really miss my blog and hate that part of travelling. So I just had to make one quick not. The Sunday I took back was perfect. So perfect. I like time travel. xo

ps many many many posts from my North American Tour will be coming soon.

Minding the Gap

Mind the Gap. Watch Your Step.

They are just reminders to be aware of the distance and to bridge it before someone gets hurt, namely yourself. Today I am minding that gap. I am closing the distance. I am heading home. I am going to hop a plane and start bridging that distance that I feel from so many people.

I used to think being a 14 hour drive away was too far. It seems impossibly far. How could you maintain anything that far away? I just didnt realize how big the world was. It will be like 16 hours of straight flying today. Maybe more. And that doesnt even get me home. That just gets me to another city in another country. And the second I land I know I will feel home. Just being in North America I will feel so near everyone. Like anything is possible. I am anxious. I am nervous. I just want to be sitting on the second plane relaxing, forgetting about life. Watching the gap being minded.

I am coming home.

You're Just Damage Control For A Walking Corpse

I felt nothing. Not nothing exactly. I felt a bit in my stomach, I must have been starving. And I felt an aching where my soul should be, however it was long lost somewhere amongst the unreasonable hours in the library. It was over and yet the relief, the joy, the feeling of accomplishment was not there. I felt nothing. 

That must be what its like for walking corpses, they work so hard and still feel nothing. Nothing at all. Its because they are dead. Sometimes I feel so numb its as if I cant feel anything. This week took everything I have it seems. I am so mentally exhausted I dont know how I can even write. My body aches with fatigue and pain. My emotions are on edge. 

My bags are half packed. My clothes are still hanging to dry. And yet I have to lay down. I cant repack. I cant make sure everything is in order. It will come down to the end. Most likely to the moments before I leave. And yet I feel more at peace with that than anything else. I am finally just listening to my body and allowing it to relax. To take a few hours to not be overwhelmed with immense amounts of work. To not have to feel anything.  To remember that its just a few hours til everything changes again for a short time. I should find someone to run damage control for me. I am too exhausted to feel, to make decisions, to know whats best. Too worn out to continually contemplate he said she said words that make me wonder if there is someone possibly one day that I know or not. Too tired to write many more words to even express the numbness.

Sometimes feeling nothing is a much desired break from reality. Walking corpses dont always have it off the worst.

Desk 8

Every morning with the minutes being just around 9 I walk in. Usually the same person is there. My card is out and I ask for the same thing, the key to desk 8. They give it to me and say due back at 3, it never its. By the time I get to  my desk I have booked it til close or 6 depending on the day. And I unpack. The top drawer is for snacks, the middle drawer for lectures once they are reviewed and the bottom drawer for my bakpack. The desk holds my labelled pencil case, my water bottle, my phone charger, my notebook and whatever lectures I am working on. Its the same everyday.

Desk 8 is like my new home. And yet today is the last day for a few weeks. I just realized its closed tomorrow and my exam is prior to noon so we will see what happens I suppose.

Its odd how life happens. How time goes by so slowly and so quickly. How we adapt. How we change our of necessity. I think back to who I was and where I was 7.5 months ago and I can barely remember that person. So much has changed and it makes me apprehensive. I am days away from home, from a continent full or people and memories and the past and yet I already know I will miss my new home. Even though its only seperation for a few weeks and I miss so much about north america I have come to adapt and love this place. I actually like desk 8, I like my room, my house, my housemates, my friends. I like the therapeutic train rides to work and I really like my job. Yes, everything has changed since I moved here, and I realized it at desk 8.

The Heart of Persuasion

I am sick of writing these posts. Not in general. Just the ones about that awful, all consuming word. And yet my fingers ignore my screaming mind and keep typing. It feels like my heart has started a mutiny against my brain and everyone is jumping ship. Leaving my brain looking off at all the rest of me drowning, thinking "what idiots, if only they listened and stayed on the ship where it was safe, I was only trying to protect them". And yet when a mutiny happens its not usually because the captain is wrong. Its because someone else is more persuasive. My heart is awfully persuasive I suppose.

I was sitting here. Doing nothing productive I suppose. Next thing I knew I noticed that I still have a seperate group on my fb chat for him. Knowing he would be asleep I decided to skim his page, something I hadnt done recently, not like before when we used to chat for ages. My heart got that deep aching longing feeling. The one that reminded me that I could see him soon. Really soon when you think about how I have been overseas for 7.5 months. It was a feeling of missing, of longing, of remembrance, of heartache. I brushed it off. Tiny moments of time passed and then suddenly he was online chatting with me. Nothing important. Nothing meaningful really. Just words. Words put together. Nothing. And yet there was just so much. Every word was like a little spark. I am terrified that if I dont see you then I will always wonder. And that if I do see you that you will just say the right things and then I will leave and feel empty and alone again. 

I can feel my heart of persuasion slowly chipping away at the rest of me. Its saying all of the right things to trick me into opening back up and making a stop by your state. Only time will tell what is more persuasive, my brain or my heart.

Unrobot Like Occurrences

Yesterday I said I wished I was a robot. I did. I thought about it logically and the idea of not feeling seemed appealing. Then hours passed. Maybe like twenty four. And I found myself being so grateful I wasnt a robot. For the exact reasons I wanted to be robot I dont want to be one.

Lately I feel emotions really intensely. Its not overly long lasting, but in the moment its super intense and real. Its that urge to just scream my lungs out. Its the tears that fall in such a perfect line and make every part of me physically ache. Its the deep empty longing. Its the feeling of warmth and glory when the sun hits my face. Its the feeling you get when you are laughing so hard and cant stop. Its not something small lately. Its just short and intense. Moments pure enough to remind me all of the reasons I am human. Just powerful enough to break my heart, or remind me of what love is.

Its these moments intertwined with just mundane ordinary days that make it all seem worth it. The painful ones come from perfect times long passed, or things that fell apart. The ones of longing remind me of what is to come and what brought me here. The ones of strength remind me that I am never alone.

I spent so many years burying emotion, loathing it, thinking it make me appear weak. So sometimes its hard to just accept it and bask in it. I am trying to let my tears mean something when they come. I am trying to feel heartache with the reminder that it means I knew love. I am trying to take that intensity and turn it into something. I am going to nail being human.

Enveloped Ears

I like to hear nothing but the music. There is a reason I buy noise-reducing headphones and turn my music up. I get distracted. Distracted by each page turning, each set of audible footprints, each bag being opened or each apple being bitten into. So as soon as I sit down the playlist is chosen and the headphones are inserted. I love that feeling that there is nothing else. That no one else exists in that moment. That its just you, your music and your notes. Its like a secret getaway from reality without having to go anywhere.

The only downside is when someone approaches you and you actually dont know they are there until they are right there in your face touching your things. Thats when it feels a little sketchy and alarming. However, its worth the downside. Even in my own room to just drown our the world and let my ears and then my soul be wrapped in a blanket of music is pure heaven. I cant imagine what life would be like if I was someone that couldnt have music on to study. I imagine it being deathly depressing and lonely. Music seems to be the only thing that can calm the wandering of my mind, so let my ears be enveloped.

I'm The Hero Of This Story

Sometimes I find myself stopping, gazing into space watching others lives pass me by. I get intrigued by what I see and I spend moments recreating what could be occurring. I create  imaginative stories to surround the moments. And then I realize that instead of being the hero of my own story I find contentment in just being a spectator in my own life. It doesnt have to be that way though. No one should take a backseat in their own story. No one wants to be the sidekick in their own dream. So I am trying to be the hero of my own story. The one that fights for something more, and sometimes fails. But the one that always gives it a shot. I dont want to be the sidekick in my story, I want to be the one that everyone looks up at in awe because I am brave and fighting for myself. I want my story to epic and rad. So perhaps its time to work on that. Welcome to my story.

[Insert Sport Here]

To mix up the slight mundaneness of spending hours on end at one specific spot in one specific building studying pages and pages of lectures we decided to spend out lunch with our friend Carrie. You  might know her. She is pretty rad. It was her first time in Australia so we wanted her to feel our love and support. So off we ventured. She looked great, and as it was pointed out, she was a very nice VMO. Carrie was fantastic, what a gem. She sang us a few songs and then we wanted to grab lunch but there was a massive line and she wanted to do the right thing and sign things for all of those people in her line. So we let her. But we really did enjoy spending that quality time with her. Although next time it would be great if she brought her husband Mike. We really like him too. I mean he is a talented man. Although our jamaican feels like she would like to insert a different sport for a man and we will allow that.

All in all it was great to see Carrie. Next time we wouldnt mind an afternoon with her and an evening with Mike and his friends. Just saying. Us Canadians have a thing for hockey players and country singers.

The Secret Executive Table Club

It feels like a secret organization.  Everyone has their seats. Four at the table. One on the floor or another table. And one at a desk. Day in and day out you see most of these six in the same space. Its unwritten. The rules are known to all. Snacks and stationary supplies are shared. Questions are asked. Reasoning is heard in hushed tones. There are other players in this scene too. One often wears a suit, or this certain sweater. He is not a part of the club, he is an outsider. And yet without his knowledge he is such a part of it. There are two others, with excessively floppy wristed waves, that are a small part of this organization.

You wouldnt know its a club. It appears to be mostly business and silence. And yet there is a bond. A communal yearning for knowledge, understanding and a feeling of confidence as pages are turned, notes are reread and rewritten and actions are thought over and over again.

Maybe one day you will find yourself on the fourth floor of the law library looking in on the club, wishing you were a part of it. Because as much as endless hours of studying is draining, it seems just the slightest bit more bearable when you are sitting near the executive table knowing that you are so far from being alone. Its okay to be a bit jealous of our club, and the fact we will all be there too early on a saturday tomorrow.

My Boy Builds Coffins

Songs usually speak to me. More than advice from humans. I just get more out of lyrics usually. Maybe because they are nearly constantly pouring through my ears, or maybe because they are relatable in most situations. I dont know a boy that builds coffins. But now I slightly wish I did because I really adore this song. It has made me think about a lot of important things. It makes me ponder about what I do and want to do with my life. Is it something I am passionate about? Does it matter? How does it impact other people? And then somehow it makes me think of what is actually important and what I want to get out of life. It reminds me how important it is to make the most of our life, to really live life. Too many days go by that I feel like I am just getting by. Who wants their last day or really just to look back and feel like their life is a compilation of getting by. I want to one day be super old and rad and looking back and telling my grandkids or whatever about heaps of epic days. And then when my time comes and there is a coffin that is made just for me, well I hope that that day I will be smiling knowing that I lived an awesome and fulfilled life.

I wish I knew a boy that builds coffins. I think because it seems like a boy like that would be getting like a little secret insight into the incredible lives of many people. And honestly, I just really like learning about peoples lives and what they have done and what makes them smile as they fall asleep. I am fascinated by people. I hope one day I have a boy that speaks to me even more than this song does.

If Love's A Word That You Say

Then say it, I will listen.

Sometimes I feel so alone. Its like the world is moving incredibly fast past me and I cant even find the time to paint my nails. Everything is changing all the time. If you are stagnant you are falling behind. In the chaos of the world its so easy for me to feel lost or drifting or that I am falling behind. But in those moments someone always seems to reach their hand into the dark abyss searching for my lost self. And as I grab onto it and come out gasping for air I remember that I am not alone. Not ever.

Sometimes I wonder if I say I love you too much. But sometimes I just love people. And its not always passionate love, its just love. Love love is not something I just say, it is more like one of those things that I fight  until I can no longer surpress it. But love for the people that are shaping me and making me laugh and saving me from myself, well that just seems natural.

Lately I feel a lot of that. Maybe its because hard days come more often then they should and somehow there is always someone there. Or maybe its because I just knew a lot of really epically fantastic people. Both are very valid options. I will just decide its a combination of both.

And yet I will close with the notion that part of me still feels like I am fighting down that urge to say that other love kind to someone that is just waiting to almost unknowingly not listen and break my heart. But if its a word you say, know that I really am listening.

All Dogs Go to Heaven, Right?

I heard it ringing because my headphones were in and my music was drowning out the chatter of so many stressed people. The calls override the music. Its usually a bummer when my music is interrupted. The exam was to start in 25 minutes. Which is rather soon. I knew I didnt want to answer but had to. I quickly said hello and asked her not to say anything. I knew what she was going to say. I didnt want to hear it. She was silent then I started to cry. It was too late. I said she could just say it. I knew. My mother was calling to let me know that our dear, beloved dog was gone. They had buried him already. It happened so fast. All that had happened was a few hours of study and sleeping.

I dont know exactly why it makes me feel empty. Maybe because I didnt say goodbye. I didnt say thank you. I wasnt there. Cooper was always there. I took him out the only time I have even gotten in an actually angry verbal fight with a family member. He would stay by me everytime I was ill or had surgery. He was always there. I think after 11 years you just are bonded. He has been in my life longer than most anyone in my life. Cooper always loved me. I just wish I could say goodbye. But I guess thats why we believe all dogs go to heaven. If we dont believe that then what do we have to console our sad and empty lonely hearts? I am sure he is in heaven. He has to be.

RIP Cooper. I love you.

Blocked

The phone rang. I answered. No response. I hung up and wondered who could have a blocked number. The only one I knew wouldnt be calling. It was 3am in that time zone. I went back to my dinner. I checked fb out of boredom and procrastination. There was a reprimanding for not answering. I had answered. I called back. The expectations of a dramatic tearful other end were high. They were half met. It was tearful. The words werent coming. And when they did I wished they hadnt. The poor frightened, tearful voice related to  me the dying of a love. Not the fifteen year old boyfriend-girlfriend break up I was expecting. But the life of my, our, beloved pet slowly fading. I acted strong. I told you it would be okay. The pet hospital would help. But I knew that wasnt likely. He was getting old. He lived a good life. And maybe this was it. I stayed strong. Until now. Now that she is hopefully asleep, its okay to cry. Maybe the phone will ring again in the morning and say some expensive surgery has bought him time, maybe it will ring and all will be lost. I honestly dont know. All I know is my life has been blessed in more ways than I can ever relate by a faithful pet that spent a lot of nights in my room or by my side when I was crying or ill or when their was a storm and he was scared. My heart is breaking a little bit knowing that I may never get to see him again and that this might be goodbye. I selfishly hope something will preserve him just another two and a half weeks til I can be there. But I know that its a purely selfish desire and that hes suffering. I dont want another blocked phone call. I dont want to cry. I just want to be home and holding him and thanking him for all of the times he knew something was wrong and took care of me. I dont deal well with death. I know that. I know that very well. So please dont call me and tell me my dog is gone.

Troll vs Hippo

It's a bridge. You cant just cross it though. You have to have a password. If you try to just run past it will end a bit like the Brothers Grimm book the Three Billy Goats Gruff. A troll will eat you. Which makes me think of hippos. Apparently hippos are known for being agressive and large. By large I mean fat. Somehow this is exactly how my train of though goes. And far too often. Especially since my first exam is in just less than 15 hours. However, thats as irrelevant as it is relevant.

I often wonder what stops me from crossing bridges or taking other paths. Is it because I am scared that the other side wont be everything I hoped for? Or am I scared of what may be underneath the bridge. Or do I just now know the right thing to say to get to the other side? I dont know. I am sure through life it is a combination of the sorts but likely its because of fear.

You may think I am tough like a troll, someone that doesnt put up with anything and is silently in wait of its next prey. Or you may somehow compare me to the aggressiveness of a hippo (I refuse to correlate myself to the size of one as I am a rather averagely normal size and not large in any way). However those would both just be super inaccurate. The truth is I am just a girl that is petrified. Scared of making the wrong decision. Scared that the end of the path wont be what I was hoping for. Scared to even speak up. Regardless of the meaningless exterior people may think they see it means nothing compared to the hidden frightened inside. I think a tough exterior is usually just a facade for someone scared that people will look further and see nothing strong at all.

Paper Airplanes

The library was hauntingly quiet. It was a saturday. No one should be there, but so many people were. I had my section of a table. My headphones were in and the music was turned up loud. Loud enough to drown out the existence of everyone around. Unfortunately loud music does not prevent you from being hit with a paper airplane. It also doesnt help you remember how to refold such paper made machines. Ergo my toss back was pathetic. It made me feel like I forgot how to be a kid. How tragic is that. As a kid you dont spend your weekends trapped in buildings full of educational books. You spend them out in the sun playing. Or creating things. Exams kill souls and sleep and enjoyment. I cannot wait until they are over and I can play again.

Jesse Vs John Vs Adam

These three men have contributed greatly to my life.  And in barely over 2 weeks I will see the last of them, and well, one again. It is not often you find that feuds are beneficial  but I actually appreciate their various three way feud  as it has fueled the fire and brought out the lyrical genius in all three of them. Although, ultimately I am quite pleased that John has rejoined Adam in creating music and that Jesse and John have, as it seems, come back to friendship. All is well that ends well. Although the middle time seriously created some of my all time favourite songs. And Brand New and Straylight Run both put on such fantastic shows. I am assuming TBS will be just as good, if not better. Especially since John is back and I know he is great live.

Tonight I relieved their feud and all of the bitter angst of their lyrical war. It was beautiful. I cannot wait to see Adam and John in LA. Best present ever.

Listen to Seventy Times 7 by Brand New, then Theres No I in Team from TBS, then Another Word For Desperate by Straylight Run. Then when you are loving every second of it listen to I Believe you But My Tommy Gun Dont- Brand New and Mix Tape also by them. So fantastic. The list does go on a bit more but its rather late and I am aiming for a few hours sleep. So enjoy.

Cake For Breakfast Equates to Super Powers

I woke up and had my favourite cake besides Jeannie Bakery cake. I then realized I felt like I had super powers. I was on top of the world. I unwrapped Twilight Sparkle, my My Little Pony unicorn. I read a few cards, looked at photos and opened Alice in Wonderland. I read texts and messages. I checked my mailbox as indicated in an unknown text and read a poem. I went to uni and had brownies and learned and had a free boost for lunch. The day progressed with a lot of laughter and a lot more love.

I was shocked when we turned up at the final location and a dozen beautiful friends were there to celebrate me. It was casual and perfect. To end it all I am sitting eating popcorn listening to Billy Joel on my record player. I dont know if moments get much better than this. The day wasnt perfect. But I am not perfect. It was so much more beautiful than I imagined. I enjoyed feeling a bit like I had super powers today. Oh and I gave myself the one thing I truly wanted and no one could give me. I ran. A mile and a half has never felt so good, 9 weeks has been a long time apparently.

Twenty three is going to be my year. Watch me nail it.

ps. Thank you. You all know who you are.