You can hear, what goes on, in the hallway. We're missing some kind of weatherproofing that would dampen the sound outside of the door. It's clear as day out there. A testimonial of the lives we lead. People can hear us fighting, singing, yelling, dancing, fucking. We do a lot of the ones that don't involve music.
I wonder, if my life had gone a different way, if we weren't us, if he wasn't him, what would you hear outside that door. Would you hear more dancing, more singing, more fucking?
But then I remember he is part of the we that got us here. We would never live here if we weren't us. And I love it here.
Thursday, July 21, 2016
Monday, September 21, 2015
sixty by sixty by sixty
i stopped wearing a watch. I don't want to know how each hour stretches out in a series of sixty sixty second minutes that are marked by the slow decline of creativity, intelligence and motivation. It's like lying on the floor and slowly shaking your head back and forth until eventually you start losing hairs at the back of your head and then a small divot develops on the floor and eventually you are just that, part of the landscape of a mercilessly tedious machine that prescribes an hourly quotient of presence, at the small cost of the fire that lights your soul and fuels your being.
Thursday, June 5, 2014
those days
Do you ever
Have those days
Opening your eyes means you have to see the light
Those tangles are too much work
It's just not worth the fight
Nothing is better than everything
Because everything is just too much
Too much at stake
Too much to take
Your whole life
Can't be like this
Because this is too much
To take
Thursday, January 16, 2014
first world problems
challenged with eating green beans sans knife and fork and trying to not have them go flying whilst using a spoon
i ate yogurt today that expired in November 2013. I'm still alive.
when life throws you lemons you really hold on to nuggets like these to brighten your day. and with heaps on time on my hands I may come back here more regularly to stimulate any type of blinking receptor left in my brain ready to respond.
i ate yogurt today that expired in November 2013. I'm still alive.
when life throws you lemons you really hold on to nuggets like these to brighten your day. and with heaps on time on my hands I may come back here more regularly to stimulate any type of blinking receptor left in my brain ready to respond.
Sunday, June 9, 2013
Monday, May 20, 2013
I love you....
So much. My heart feels like its combusting into billions of particles of light. I love you till my heart hurts and I don't know what to do. You make me feel so happy I'm literally
bursting from the seams...
Thursday, February 28, 2013
eve of 28
I’ve been horribly amiss. Neglecting my writing here, not even pausing to note irreverent and random items or post photos. So, on the eve of my birthday, I’m not going to commit to some kind of regular schedule or try to justify why I haven’t been here. I’m simply going to write.
Looking back, when I started this blog, I NEEDED it. I needed to talk about my sense of displacement, moving from a very unhappy situation in Vancouver to where I thought being home would fix all that ailed me. And, of course, if you believe in the adage of grass isn’t always greener, it certainly wasn’t.
I stayed because I could, I only had 2 courses left which could be taken correspondence, I had a job, and a place to live. The prospect of another 6 months of sunless rain was too much too take, as much as I knew I would miss my friends there.
Alas, my friends here were not, shall we say solid and I learned lonely, I learned boredom. I got into trouble, I had a ‘secret’ affair that blew up in my face, I threw myself into yoga and running and eating less because it was something to focus on. I almost didn’t graduate university due to an ‘easy’ music appreciation course. But most of all, I remember the longing for something I could feel myself doing, someone I could feel myself with. Of course, this is the time, when I think, unless you’re extremely well adjusted, that’s what happens. You can’t find that thing or that person, because you don’t know who you are.
My personal style at the time was all over the map and seeing pictures of myself at the time becomes a mirror into the person I was at the time: Unsure, experimental, attention-seeking. Not someone comfortable with where they’re at or who they are. The bright green suede boots or the half spiky asymmetrical pixie hair was me trying to be who I thought I should be, or who I wanted to be, a desperate attempt to find me.
I was grasping. Of course some things that girl was is still me. The difference is, now I know, exactly, which ones are me and which ones aren’t. It wasn’t over night. It took a long time to find out how uncomfortable certain things made me, or that I didn’t really want to be stared at for a ‘weird’ style, but in admiration for owning my own style and people liking it.
It was the same for relationships. I naturally became friends with those who needed me. I wanted to feel like I belonged and to me, becoming an integral part of their life, helping them with their problems, made me feel essential- something I was lacking in my life, that sense of needing to be somewhere or something to someone. Those types of relationships can’t help but be unhealthy, and left me exhausted and sad and wondering why people didn’t care about me the way I cared about them.
Learning the ropes at work was painful. Taking pictures and doing bit interviews but not knowing how anything made it to fruition was frustrating. Not always knowing what I should be doing or why I was doing it precluded any enjoyment out of my first job. But, they believe in me, perhaps more than I believed in myself. I remember an old boss of mine saying, ‘You know, I know this isn’t what you thought you’d be doing, or even maybe what you want to do, but you’re damn good at it’.
Looking back at how much inner strife and sadness I went through during this time makes me feel very grateful about getting old. This last year has been one of the best years of my life. I feel like I found me.
It’s not often I go somewhere and not feel dressed as myself. I see it as a reflection of how I feel.
My old boss was right, but the difference is; now I believe it.
The supportive group of friends I have now, both old and new, have become an essential part of my life, in a very reciprocal way. I can rely on them and they on me and we’re there for each other no matter what (It sounds very cliche but cliches are for a reason).
So, now, on to the next step, as my sister likes to say. Everything can’t be unicorns and rainbows all the time, but at least angst is not an everyday feeling. I’m looking forward to 28.
Looking back, when I started this blog, I NEEDED it. I needed to talk about my sense of displacement, moving from a very unhappy situation in Vancouver to where I thought being home would fix all that ailed me. And, of course, if you believe in the adage of grass isn’t always greener, it certainly wasn’t.
I stayed because I could, I only had 2 courses left which could be taken correspondence, I had a job, and a place to live. The prospect of another 6 months of sunless rain was too much too take, as much as I knew I would miss my friends there.
Alas, my friends here were not, shall we say solid and I learned lonely, I learned boredom. I got into trouble, I had a ‘secret’ affair that blew up in my face, I threw myself into yoga and running and eating less because it was something to focus on. I almost didn’t graduate university due to an ‘easy’ music appreciation course. But most of all, I remember the longing for something I could feel myself doing, someone I could feel myself with. Of course, this is the time, when I think, unless you’re extremely well adjusted, that’s what happens. You can’t find that thing or that person, because you don’t know who you are.
My personal style at the time was all over the map and seeing pictures of myself at the time becomes a mirror into the person I was at the time: Unsure, experimental, attention-seeking. Not someone comfortable with where they’re at or who they are. The bright green suede boots or the half spiky asymmetrical pixie hair was me trying to be who I thought I should be, or who I wanted to be, a desperate attempt to find me.
I was grasping. Of course some things that girl was is still me. The difference is, now I know, exactly, which ones are me and which ones aren’t. It wasn’t over night. It took a long time to find out how uncomfortable certain things made me, or that I didn’t really want to be stared at for a ‘weird’ style, but in admiration for owning my own style and people liking it.
It was the same for relationships. I naturally became friends with those who needed me. I wanted to feel like I belonged and to me, becoming an integral part of their life, helping them with their problems, made me feel essential- something I was lacking in my life, that sense of needing to be somewhere or something to someone. Those types of relationships can’t help but be unhealthy, and left me exhausted and sad and wondering why people didn’t care about me the way I cared about them.
Learning the ropes at work was painful. Taking pictures and doing bit interviews but not knowing how anything made it to fruition was frustrating. Not always knowing what I should be doing or why I was doing it precluded any enjoyment out of my first job. But, they believe in me, perhaps more than I believed in myself. I remember an old boss of mine saying, ‘You know, I know this isn’t what you thought you’d be doing, or even maybe what you want to do, but you’re damn good at it’.
Looking back at how much inner strife and sadness I went through during this time makes me feel very grateful about getting old. This last year has been one of the best years of my life. I feel like I found me.
It’s not often I go somewhere and not feel dressed as myself. I see it as a reflection of how I feel.
My old boss was right, but the difference is; now I believe it.
The supportive group of friends I have now, both old and new, have become an essential part of my life, in a very reciprocal way. I can rely on them and they on me and we’re there for each other no matter what (It sounds very cliche but cliches are for a reason).
So, now, on to the next step, as my sister likes to say. Everything can’t be unicorns and rainbows all the time, but at least angst is not an everyday feeling. I’m looking forward to 28.
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