Time to find inner joy, with intention

There’s something special about random encounters. If nothing else, they typically make for a great story. But sometimes, they leave a lasting mark, capture my heart and stir up my inner joy – and really, isn’t that joy what life is all about?

There’s the lady I met on the skytrain who wrote down “Every new beginning comes from some other beginning’s end” on a piece of scrap paper and gave it to me because she could see I was having a hard day. There was the guy who gave me his umbrella because it started to rain while we waited for the bus and I didn’t have one. There's the many randoms who come up just to say i have a great laugh, reminding me of the joy something small and intangible can bring others. 

And then there are romantic encounters. There’s the guy I met while my friend was making out with his who showed me deep family bonds and is still a big part of my life today. There’s the guy who yelled out “I love you” across a hockey arena, and made my frozen heart melt again for the first time in ages when I thought I’d never feel that way again. There was the guy who chased me through a stadium during a home and garden show just to say hi, and showed me what it meant to have laughter part of every day.  And then there are the guys who showed me a look across a crowded pub in Ireland or at a hockey tournament, could make my heart skip a beat and time stand still.

I’m experiencing one of those encounters right now.

For months, I’ve been catching eyes and smiling at a stranger in Starbucks, which I stop at nearly every day during my morning commute. He’s always with a group of about six guys and they all say good morning, but he just usually smiles. They’re not there every morning, but I can typically count on that sweet smile at least once a week.

Last week, I was a tad later than usual getting to the Starbucks – like 30 min. it was the week leading up to Christmas and I was in charge, so given the low attendance in the office, I decided I’d take my time and come into work on time, versus early as per usual. As I rounded the corner to the entrance, I noticed the group of boys, cute Starbucks guy included, exiting. I got my smile and I continued in to pickup my mobile order, and when I came back to the door they were still outside.

Mr. Cute Starbucks guy himself, walks right up to me and I thought, “here it is, it’s my moment!” and says hello and unlike the last time I tried to say hello and nothing came out of my mouth (I know –shocking considering it’s me), real words with sound came out! He handed me a note with “BCG” written on the front, saying that he thinks this is mine. Now completely thrown off my game, I said thank you and carried on with my morning.

Well it turns out BCG stands for “Beautiful Coffee Girl” and the note had so much more than a phone number scrawled on a piece of paper. Cute Starbucks Guy wrote me a letter, and judging by the creased and roughed up edges, along with the detective skills of and me and my ladies, it appeared as though he’d been carrying it for some time.

My favorite comment in the letter?

I want you to know that the brief moment when you walk past and smile when you get your coffee is one of the best parts of my morning J

It’s something special to hear that you’re one of the best parts of someone’s day, especially with something as simple as a smile – which is what I had on my face the rest of the day….and every time I look at the letter. It’s also refreshing to hear that those moments weren’t all in your head, that someone else felt the same inner joy you did for at least that brief few seconds.

I’ve decided 2017 needs to be about finding more opportunities for joy and about creating my own joy. It needs to be about finding new things that make me smile, make me feel fulfilled and help define me in a way that I’m lacking right now. I need to take a hard look at where I’m at and where I want to be, and then make the necessary changes to get there. 2016 has had wonderful moments, but I’ve sat back and let things happen versus taking charge and finding my bliss.

I want more BCG moments that are small but make my heart sing. Sing with me? 

Love arrives exactly when it should...

I found this amazing video called When Love Arrives; it's spoken poetry by Sarah Kay and Phil Kaye.



it's become a bit of a mantra for  me - i think i've listened to it enough times now that i could recite the whole thing.

i love how it established that love changes as you grow and that there's not one true love, one "soul mate" but instead many loves depending on the stage of life you're in. In particular, i enjoy these lines "Love arrives exactly when love is supposed to, And love leaves exactly when love must. When love arrives, say, “Welcome. Make yourself comfortable.”If love leaves, ask her to leave the door open behind her.."

i think we have a tendency to shut down when love leaves. we don't think about the beauty it brought, or what we learned, we only think about the end and what went wrong. while i think that's completely natural - when you're hurting it's hard to focus on the positive, but we see it eventually - hopefully. how do we encourage ourselves to see that perspective sooner? how do we feel that sorrow and yet, feel that bright spot of hope that love will return, different, but better and ready to meet a new, more solid version of yourself if we only leave the door open?

Love is not who you were expecting, love is not who you can predict. 
Maybe love is in New York City, already asleep;
You are in California, Australia, wide awake. 
Maybe love is always in the wrong time zone.
Maybe love is not ready for you. 
Maybe you are not ready for love. 
Maybe love just isn’t the marrying type. 
Maybe the next time you see love is twenty years after the divorce, love is older now, but just as beautiful as you remembered. 
Maybe love is only there for a month. 
Maybe love is there for every firework, every birthday party, every hospital visit. 
Maybe love stays- maybe love can’t. 
Maybe love shouldn’t.

maybe we merely need to remind ourselves that timing is everything and one day you and love will be on the same time....and preferably the same time zone.

regardless the poem gives me hope and When Love Arrives i'll welcome it, until then i'll think fondly of the moment when i find a love that will tell me i'm beautiful and mean it over and over again especially when no one else will tell me.

here's hoping love arrives on a plane from Ireland soon...

What do you think you deserve?

I was chatting with B last week and we stumbled onto the topic of past relationships - mostly because i made him confirm that he is in fact single. i know, sounds weird. S was surprised i had asked that considering how things are going and the actions leading up to where we are now - him looking at options for moving to Canada. but i've been on at least four dates that have resulted in me finding out the other person has a girlfriend or a wife and they just assumed that wasn't a problem. so i threw it out there and it got him talking about being burned in his last relationship.

i'm not one to pry about past relationships since i always find it awkward to say that i haven't had someone call me their girlfriend in seven years and having to explain that it doesn't mean i'm not serious about wanting a relationship. there's also always the concern that they'll think there's something wrong with me, as opposed to my just not having found the right person.

but during this conversation B said something: "I do think we accept what we think we deserve or are willing to tolerate."

Then watching The Perks of Being a Wallflower the other night, one of the characters said the Stephen Chosky quote that i posted above: "We accept the love we think we deserve."

That was twice in a matter of days that the same sentiment came across my ears, and it really got me thinking.  i'd heard something similar before in that kinda cute rom-com The Wedding Date, where the handsome Dermot Mulroney characters says that every woman has the exact relationship that she wants. Now that, i wholeheartedly disagreed with. But when you rephrase it about what we think we deserve, it makes perfect sense.

With M, i was so insecure and i spent so much of our relationship just feeling so lucky that someone like him who was so self-assured, successful and from a good family, was paying attention to me. i was early in my university education and i worked at a 7-eleven and he was this rock that kept me standing and gave me direction. So when it came down to being treated as though i was a priority in his life, i always made excuses and convinced myself to be okay with what i was given. he was always upfront with what he was willing to give and i just accepted all of it.

fast forward to many, many, many dates post-M and with each new person, i learned more about what i wanted and that it was okay to want and need things and to not accept anything less. i learned what i was willing to compromise on and where i really needed to hold my ground for me. most of all, in the last seven years, i've discovered who i am on my own, without someone else's validation.

so when B said that "we accept what we think we deserve or are willing to tolerate" it really hit home for me.

how often do we stop to think about what we truly deserve? i think it's really important to be self-aware and truly understand who you are in order to understand what you deserve. We also need to look at our own habits, where we're stubborn and when we need to stop, reflect and maybe adjust our own unrealistic expectations. And instead of looking at it as what you will tolerate, as i think that has a negative connotation to it, it'd be more about looking at the areas where you will compromise, those so-called shortcomings or flaws in the other person that you can accept because no one is perfect but where the things you love about them outweigh anything else.

as hard as it is, i think i am finally in a place to appreciate the heartache and the frustration, because you really can't see the light until you've been through the darkness.

i'm really enjoying this increasingly glowing path i'm wandering down with B. we still have no idea where it's going or how we're getting there, but our recent conversations, which are always so honest and especially as of late have really shed light on our mutual feelings,  have shown me that we're meandering side-by-side on the same path...and boy does that feel good.
 

Once Smitten Twice as Shy

so i'm smitten. smitten with an Irishman who lives halfway around the world.

part of me is angry with myself - how can i be so silly as to indulge myself in this fantasy of trans-atlantic love coming to fruition.

part of me is terrified, just waiting for the cards to fall and the castle to crumble.

and the other part is just smitten: giddy at the prospect of possibility, heart all a flutter at sweet words, smile pasted to my face smitten.

i've tried long distance too many times to count. it seems i'm better at keeping things going if the other person isn't actually present. i think the distance forces me to imagine and when you imagine you tend to lean towards the ideal, as opposed to the real. it isn't until they appear and you realize the ideal doesn't exist that it becomes hard to overcome that obstacle and inevitably it's always fallen apart.

is it possible for that to change? is it possible that with age and "wisdom" and through lessons learned, that it's possible for something long distance and ephemeral, to become something real and constant? is there a chance that my Irishman could end up here, or i back there, and something real could blossom out of this inexplicable magnetism that pulled us together in a pub in Dingle?

i don't know.

i read this blog post today about a girl who risked it all and moved across the country to be with someone she loved, only to have it fall apart and now she's moving back home again. her question was should she have risked it all and leaped. i found myself thinking as i read, "of course you should have! you never know what could happen and if you don't try, you'll always wonder. a part of you will always wonder."

why is it that it's so easy to offer someone else advice, but hard to give yourself the same?

always wondering - now that's a nasty trap. it's caught me many a time and held me hostage more times than i can count. Conversely, the times where i've given it my all and understood the game, when it hasn't worked out i've come out the other side much stronger and with better peace of mind.

and if i didn't try.....it wouldn't be much of a story eh? "The Life of Rilla - she existed, she avoided and she settled" not much of a book.

i think i'll stay smitten and try not to shy away from experiencing life, love and everything in between.

Power of Possibility

I feel the need to write down a special moment from my recent trip to Ireland. It's a silly thing, but there's always a possibility that something amazing could come from it. There have been so many moments that i wished i had written down, so i'm going to indulge myself and write about this one while it's not only fresh in my mind, but not yet tainted by any misfortune. 

Right after Christmas i jetted off to Ireland with S to go and visit C who recently relocated for work. During the trip we took off on a road trip around the Republic of Ireland and at one point turned up in Dingle - a darling seaside gaeltacht (irish speaking region). 

We were enjoying dinner in John Benny's (the best warm venison salad ever - still craving it) and this group was singing behind me in the pub (Lumiere) this beautifully, haunting music. I kept twisting around in my seat to watch the ladies sing and at one point i noticed this handsome man leaning against a beam near the bar, also watching the performers. 

He looked like he had walked right out of Yaletown - collared shirt with a v-neck sweater over top and a blazer. So out of place for Ireland, where it must be said, the men don't exactly dress that well. i couldn't tear my eyes away and throughout the evening we kept catching one another's eyes; smiles were exchanged; thumbs up were given (by him). 

At one point in the evening, i got up to buy a round of Guinness for myself and the ladies and while waiting up at the bar, who should happen to stroll up but this fine specimen of a man. He asked the waitress if his friend had ordered drinks and she said yes and then he turned to me and said hello. Much to my surprise, he was Irish! Of course when i opened my mouth the first thing he said was "oh you're american."  Of course i corrected him! But there was something in his eyes and he held my attention fast. 

He invited us ladies out to another pub but S and C were ready to head back to the B&B, but my Irishman and i exchanged contact details as he lives in Dublin and we'd both be back there in a couple days. i figured that'd be the end of that, until the next day i found an email waiting for me from my Irishman. 

After lovely worded emails back and forth, we finally met up in Dublin on my last night there. Again that same magnetic pull was present and throughout the evening i couldn't help but be pulled in by his presence as we all chit chatted (S and C were there as well). When we finally had to leave, so that we could catch at least a couple hours of sleep before our very early flight, my Irishman walked us to a cab where he pulled me in for this unexpected, but definitely not unwelcome, kiss. You couldn't scrape the smile off my face if you'd used a knife. I woke a few hours later to head to the airport, with a text saying "could easily have kidnapped you and eloped on my bicycle together! best. kiss. ever." 

Since then we've kept in touch nearly every day, even now that i'm back in Vancouver, and my Irishman has even talked about coming out to Canada this summer. While rational, often disappointed me knows that it's probably best left as a beautiful moment capping off a lovely vacation, the young girl who desperately wants to be a hopeless romantic and believe that fairy tales and romantic comedy moments happen in real life, can't help but be open to possibility. 

What if my Irishman is the be all end all for me? What if he's the one who marked the end of life as i knew it and the beginning of an entirely new chapter in my personal life? 

My Irishman said the other day that if something ever does come from this we'll have a good story. I thought i better write it down because whether it becomes a love story for the ages or merely a moment in time, it's a reminder that anything is possible at any time, no matter where you happen to be. 

Holiday Magic

Like so many others, i love Christmastime. There's something about December:

• The air feels different on my skin; it almost seems to buzz and sparkle. 
• People are nicer and that inherent goodness, that i believe all people have seems to shine through more often.
• There are Starbucks red cups to be bought, baked goods to eat, parties to revel at  and decorations to admire.
• Although we generally don't get snow over here on the West Coast, sometimes we get lucky and have a day of that wonderful magic stuff swirling to the ground. Snow always makes me feel like anything is possible; and,
• The movies are filled with feel-good spirit and even though you might know the outcome because they all seem to follow a similar formula, you still can't wait for it to happen and it still makes you rejoice and brings you to tears.

All of those above points are part (only a small sample) of that special holiday magic that make this season so wonderful. 

last night, in the spirit of holiday magic, i did something rather silly. i had watched a holiday movie and throughout the movie the main character was learning about different holiday traditions/superstitions from various cultures. One of them related to the Feast of St Thomas, where "if a spinster did all of these things, she would dream of the man she is destined to marry." Now these things involved using a stool to step onto the bed, taking off your shoes while standing on the bed, spinning around three times and then throwing your shoes at the door before settling down to sleep with your feet on the pillow at the head of the bed. Lo' and behold, in the movie this character dreamed of the man she was destined to marry and by the end of the movie they were at the beginning of what looked to be a wonderful romance. 

So i followed suit. after all, what did i have to lose?  

it's so easy to get caught up in the negativity of being single and the trials and tribulations that go along with finding "the one" that we forget to take pleasure in little moments. For me, believing in magic and fairy tales and what-could-bes are important parts of who i am. i have a soft spot for books that take classic fairy tales and reinvent them somehow. it's a reminder that what's old can be made new again, and that the magic contained within the words of those tales is sustained over time - it doesn't weaken, it is reborn with each retelling, each new person who reads it or hears it.  they're your best anecdotes which always solicit a welcome response, wrapped up in a neat package.

So when i found out (thanks Google) that the Feast of St Thomas was last night, December 21, this spinster set out to dream about her destiny. 

Well i can't say i dreamed about "the one," what i did dream was that my condo was on fire and the alarm didn't go off so i almost burned alive. not sure what that one is supposed to tell me....SL thought it could be a hot fireman in my future, S suggested a pyromaniac - a charming pyromaniac, i threw in that maybe it's a brave bystander and J suggested maybe it means i'll die alone in my condo.

If nothing else, it was a good laugh and rather than being a depressing reminder that i'm still not sure where mr. right is, it carried forward that holiday magic as i let myself be a kid again and believe that anything is possible. Let's face it, when we don't know what's around the corner: anything. is. possible.  

Empty Fantasies

Have you ever had those dreams where you're watching yourself carry out a scene, so it's almost as though you're in two places at once: you take on both an active and passive role at the same time.

More often than not these days, i feel as though i'm living through that dreamlike state of watching myself live while another me just goes through the motions. It's almost an out of body experience. It doesn't seem to matter where i am or what i'm doing, i constantly feel like i'm not really a part of what's happening, like i've checked out of real life.

i'm out for drinks with the ladies on Friday, something i normally enjoy, but i felt like i was watching them socialize and while i can hear myself participating, it didn't really feel as if i was taking part. it's been like this for months. i thought i would have snapped out of it by now but pinching myself doesn't seem to be waking me up.

I was watching Les Mis with S last month and it got to the part where Eponine is singing about her love for Maurius. It starts off sounding like a beautiful memory of the time they spend together and then she reveals that the love story she's been recanting is something she imagines in her mind. I found myself crying through the song as i realized that's my love life wrapped up in a song. my love life is full of me imagining possibilities but never actually living any of them.

so i've been focusing my energy elsewhere, trying to give myself new meaning, happiness and direction that's just for and from myself.

i made a step forward in the house-hunt this month. after seeing around 30 properties, i finally found one that i could see myself living in. i had always thought finding the place i wanted to live in would be like when those brides on tv find *the* wedding dress: everything would feel instantly right, a sense of calm would come over me and then excitement and i'd be ready to dive head first. instead in classic me-fashion, i completely freaked out and it took multiple walks in the neighborhood at all times of the day, plus a map (the map really did it for me) defining how long it would take me to walk to different areas of the city to convince me to put in an offer.

everyone kept saying to me, "you must be so excited" and i just kept reaffirming that subjects weren't removed yet and i wasn't getting excited until it was for sure. despite myself, i got a little excited and started decorating "my new condo" in my mind. in my head i could see my daily routines playing out, where i would place things, where i would entertain. Then the day we were supposed to remove subjects some items came up and after the seller refused to extend subjects by a week to allow me to get the results from their AGM, the deal folded and my hopes and fantasies of life in my new condo lay shattered on the ground amidst protests from me telling everyone "i'm fine and don't care."

i'm isolating myself from my friends because i don't want to have to talk about any of it with them and have them feel sorry for me or have to hear the pity in their voices as they say "aww honey."  Not to mention i feel like i have nothing in common with my close friends any more  who are busy with their husbands and kids.

the truth is i'm so frustrated with everything. i feel like nothing is happening in my life right now. i thought starting the new role at work would make me feel better, like i was doing something new or could focus on something other than obsessing over made up scenarios i keep playing over and over in my head.

i feel lost and lonely and like a failure - and that last one is something i haven't had to feel like often (being a perfectionist) and it's the worst part of it all. i'm failing at interpersonal relationships - romantic or otherwise - and i have no control over the situation. i want to stop feeling like i have to imagine things in order to find happiness and instead just live and be happy.

Spring Cleaning

i'm a pack rat. Now, i'm not hoarder bad - i'm not about to make my reality show debut - but i do tend to keep a lot of things if they have even the slightest sentimental value....downside is i'm pretty sentimental and find small meaning in many things.

Last weekend i decided that i needed to start going through my stuff and getting rid of what i can. I'm apartment hunting, and i figured it'd be easier to deal with the years of accumulated stuff now rather than later. The problem with someone who has moved once in her life is that i have A LOT of stuff. You tend to hold on to things you normally wouldn't simply because you've always had it.

Point A: I have at least 20 copies of Twist magazine. I don't think they make Twist magazine anymore, but when i was in high school that was my magazine of choice. For some reason, i've felt like it was a good idea to keep them. it made sense when i was still in high school and the articles were relevant; and it made sense when i used to cut things out of the magazines to use for other projects.....but why do i need these magazines now? i'm not sure. I still have a problem with getting rid of magazines, just Canadian Living seems to have taken Twist's place. Needless to say, i said goodbye to Twist.

Point B: I've reaffirmed that i'm vain, although i think it was more about my own insecurities and needing to be perfect. I have kept certificates for everything you can imagine, including when i was named Student of the Day four times in Grade 5. I also found 3 complete acceptance packages from the universities i applied to. It was satisfying knowing they all wanted me. i found graded work from various teachers - most with perfect scores. While i couldn't bring myself to get rid of absolutely everything in this category, i got rid of most of it and only kept a few essentials.

Point C: cards for every occasion - i can't get rid of them. i feel like someone took the time to pick it out, write a thoughtful message and greet me on a special day with it - how can i throw that away? plus, when i was in grade 5, i read this book called The Secret of the Cards and in it a girl found a box of old cards in the window seat and with it the spirit of a girl who owned them. i started keeping a box of cards in my closet....i still do. remember that sentimental thing i mentioned earlier. i still can't get rid of them. i don't think they'll make the move with me, but right now My Secret of the Cards lives with the boyfriend boxes in the closet. And no, the boyfriend boxes were not part of the clean up.

While the bf boxes weren't included, i did make a huge step forward.

On my bedside table there has been a picture of me and M from our first weekend away together since 2006. it was a great weekend and the weekend away marked a huge step forward in our relationship. i've never been able to take it down. things (cards from other boys) have stood in front of it at times, but it's never been removed from my bedside table. i wasn't ready to have M gone from my life, even though he has been gone from my life romantically since 2007.

Last weekend, i took it down and put it away. i just don't feel like i need it anymore. i think i've finally moved past it. i'm ready to have that again with someone else and i think taking down the picture means i'm finally giving it a real shot. I want C to take that place and i'm so excited at what's to come for us. scared, yes of course - almost terrified, i haven't opened myself up to someone in so long - but excited because it feels right and good and like diamond sunbursts and marble halls all over again.

Wish You Never Ever Met Her At All

So i'm driving home from work the other day, listening to Virgin Radio and just unwinding from my long day at the office, when Maneater by Nelly Furtado comes on the radio.

Now, way back when, J coined Maneater as my theme song.

Urban Dictionary defines a "maneater" as "The female equivalent to the more male-associated words like pimp or player. An irresistable woman who chews and spits out men after using them for some sort of gain -- be it sexual, financial or psychological."

Now while i will say in my defense that i never used men for any kind of gain, i did receive this title of maneater because i had a tendency to cycle through men very, very.....very quickly. the girls would joke that the guy would just be getting attached and i'd be walking out the door. it's not something i'm proud of - i had strong commitment issues in the beginning and then it just became about being with the right guy, and as soon as i figured out a guy wasn't "the right guy," well....poof be gone (in usually 5 dates or less).

So this song comes on the radio, for the first time in a ridiculously long time, and all i can find myself thinking is it's like a taunt. it felt like i was 13 years old, surrounded by a group of mean girls, taunting me about my past inadequacies in the romance department. in light of the fact that i'm now seeing someone who i'm really excited about, it was more than a little disheartening.

i firmly believe that you shouldn't settle. that those who settle, eventually realize that they have in fact settled which doesn't lead to a happy relationship. i also don't believe in wasting other people's time. when i'm out, and know i'm out, i tell the other person - why lead them on into thinking that you feel the same way they do if you don't. While i think these are great qualities of mine, the downside is i don't always give everyone the best chance and when my emotions do pull out of a situation, they pull out fast and hard like a magician pulling a table cloth off a table without disturbing the glassware on top. these are things i acknowledge as problems and i have been working hard to correct these flaws.

what is comforting, however, is that the few times where i've felt like someone could be "the right guy" - those two downsides haven't played a roll in the downfall. so maybe, just maybe, there's a method to my maneating madness?

Regardless, here i was in my car being taunted by Nelly Furtado and all i could think is, "i'm so glad i'm not that person anymore." That was a new thought for me. Previously the song just made me laugh, think of J and shake my head at myself. But for the first time i really didn't identify with the song at all. i think i've finally managed to shed my maneating skin in recognition of wanting more and believing that maybe i can have more.

Everyone deserves more. it just takes some of us longer to adjust our lives to make more possible.

Let's jump off a roof and fly

Remember when you were a little kid and fear wasn't an issue? Of course you were frightened of things that you would never be frightened of now (monsters under the bed, hands coming out of drawers left open, creepy men that turned you into mannequins if you didn't pay your taxes - recurring childhood nightmare, long story), but you weren't scared of life.

When it came to trying something you new, you dove in headfirst. You didn't think about getting hurt. Instead, you thought about having fun.

As we grow up and get hurt, we lose that fearless attitude. We start constructing barriers around ourselves to prevent that hurt from having damaging consequences. In many cases, this is a good thing. Why don't we jump off a roof? well, we know we can't fly and that we could break something. Why don't we make that snarky comment? well, we know it's going to hurt someone's feelings and that it's not the most polite or adult thing to do in the moment.

But then there are other things that we stop doing because it's ingrained in us that it's not ok to fail. So we stop trying new things that we don't think we're good at. we stop asking questions that might make us appear less bright. We stop doing these things to protect ourselves from being emotionally hurt.

emotional pain is a funny thing because no one else can see the damage, and often, it's our own internal turmoil that keeps it around. We dwell on the little things, we invite it to stay in our guest room and join us for dinner, to tag along on outings - it becomes that house guest that was never really wanted in the first place, but that we can't seem to ask to leave. Eventually, it does, but it leaves behind a reminder that it once stayed in your home - a stain on the rug or a broken vase. We learn to to use the stains and broken glass shards as fortification against future house guests. We slowly build up our walls, our artillery, we get the livery in order and make sure that the moat has a dragon and the drawbridge is always up.

This fortification doesn't work when you're trying to date. it's really hard to meet someone new, when they don't get to meet all of you because the dragon keeps them well outside the interior walls of your castle.

I've definitely had my ups and downs in the dating world. some of those are aired on here. but recently, i met someone who has given me that hope that maybe, just maybe, it could work this time.

I've found myself pulling down the walls, tossing out the ammunition, telling the dragon to get lost and draining the moat. i feel like this time i'm that 19-year-old girl again who used to dive head first into relationships with careless abandon, opening my arms wide and my heart wider, to those around me. i used to have fun and just go with it and let people see all of me - i stopped doing that after M and i broke up. my last official boyfriend.....six long years ago. i decided i never wanted to be hurt like that again, which meant that no one got to know all of me. sometimes they were able to lift themselves to a window, sneaking a peek at what was inside, what i used to be like, but eventually the dragon would fly up there and get them (yes, i have a flying dragon).

this time just feels different. maybe, i'm just ready to let someone in again.... FINALLY. but i have to say, i'm excited and hopeful and scared all at the same time. And boy does it feel good to know that C is seeing ME, the real me. that's not to say that i have forgotten all of the lessons i've learned. i haven't. i have brought all of that wisdom with me. but i've also brought an open heart which i think means a solid chance at maybe finding someone to walk through life with me.

Sweater Unraveled

I think i've lost bestie B. this year was the first New Year's Eve Eve that i didn't spend with him in the last 3 years. it's sad. it's heartbreakingly sad that i don't know if he'll be in my 2013. i feel like there is a little hole that was created when things started falling apart, like a pesky hole in a knit sweater, and now everything has unraveled so much (despite me trying to patch things up) that i don't think there's much of a sweater left.

he used to be my first person to call and now i find myself stopping and thinking whether i should or not and then usually choosing the no option. sometimes i feel like maybe there's a light that i can pick up some of the fallen stitches and put them back on my knitting needles and cast on a few more...but they too fall off.

I had a moment of panic on Boxing Day where i thought someone was in my house (one of the most terrifying feelings ever) and B is the only friend i have who lives close enough to come check the house with me....i couldn't call him. i needed my friend so badly and i couldn't call him.

i had a really low night just before christmas - there's been some family drama - and in the midst of a good cry i tried to pour out my heart to B, with no response. thought i was back in his good graces when i got an early morning Merry Christmas on Christmas day, but when i tried to invite him to do something fun for a catch up i was back to no response.

when do i stop trying?

i've written off "friends" who don't put in the effort in the past, but for some reason i just can't write off B. no, that's not right, i don't want to write off B. i miss him. i feel lost without him in my life, like something is just not quite right. i miss laughing  with him and having his endless positivity in my life. i hate wanting to tell him everything and feeling like i can't even say "Hi" anymore. And, i can't help but feel that it's my fault, that i should never have opened my mouth in July, that i should have just ignored my jealousy and kept my amazing friend B as he was - as my friend who as far as he knew, i had no feelings for.

but now, i'm just willing to sacrifice any stupid feelings, if i could just have my friend back. i want to put my big comfy sweater back on. The one i've worn so many times before and fits perfectly and where i know every stretched out portion, every repaired hole and faded sleeve. that sweater that is perfect for me despite the flaws, or maybe it's the imperfections that make it perfect for me.

I just want B.

Lock, Shock and Barrel Out the Door

you know that moment when your heart stops and you've realized you might be making or about to make a big mistake? i experienced that last night and even though nothing happened, it scared me pretty badly.

the ladies -  S-squared - and  I were out  on the town. it was supposed to be just a couple drinks at the Westin pop-up patio and then suddenly we were out to dinner at Chinois in Yaletown (delicious chinese food btw) and transitioning straight into drinks and dancing at Pierre's Champagne Lounge.

now i'm not a big drinker. i drink socially with the ladies and i love a good glass of red but i don't like the feeling of being drunk. i don't like not being in control and i'm such a lightweight (i'm pretty tiny) that the line between a good buzz and patchy memories is very fine - pinstripe fine. after a certain point, things just get blurry and i stop seeing faces, and only remember certain details clearly. but we were having fun and i had already consumed more than average and then B got brought up so i ended up having a few more than usual.

before i know it, i'm sashaying across the lounge to get the attention of some guy, who i now can't even remember what he looked like, except that he wore a red shirt, and began enjoying drinks at their table.

when you're standing there laughing and making small talk while your brain is busy asking you what you're doing, that should be the first clue to stop and reassess the situation. or you know, this dude talking about an after-party with people doing coke, that could be another clue perhaps - more of a slap in the face to wise up, but hey to each their own.

at some point, i'm not even sure how, or if something was said or what not, but i was led around the side of the bar and i'm suddenly in this restroom - the restrooms in this lounge are all individual unisex rooms. i remember kissing red shirt guy and then very clearly, as though someone threw cold water at me or gave me a 5-hour energy shot straight to the bloodstream, i remember him reaching over and locking the door. THAT right there was when a sick feeling hit me, telling me something was wrong. it was the moment when the lights came on and everything clicked into place and i realized that i had zero control, that i was now in a locked room with someone i don't know and who works out a lot (trust me i felt his crazy amazing abs and arms), that my ladies weren't there, and that if i screamed no one would hear me over the music.

i'm not even sure what i said, i think it was something like i need to leave or i want to leave. all i know is i unlocked the door and walked out and then out of the lounge and all i could say to the ladies was that i wanted to go home.

i'm too old to be doing shit like that anymore. i don't like those bar star guys and i was being dumb because in the moment it was fun and the attention was nice and i wasn't thinking about B. but the panic i felt when that lock closed made my heart stop.

but i think the worst part is that i'm so embarrassed that i let myself get into a situation that scared me.  maybe it was an eye-opener i needed to wise up and grow up.

One Lump or Two

My grandma loves tea. When i was a little girl, i would spend my summers at my grandma's house and every day we would stop and have our own little tea party in the afternoon. mine always had lots of milk and sugar, and hers was always black. it was always Red Rose Orange Pekoe tea. 

As i got older, every time i'd visit grandma we'd have tea. it became one of those things that are comforting because you expect them and because it's predictable. i knew if i was going to grandma's, we'd have tea. i knew if me and grandma went out for lunch or if we were visiting grandpa in the care facility that we would have tea. 

growing up i also had a lot of issues with my stomach and tea was one of the few things that soothed my tummy. 

tea for me is warmth, comfort, a hug, a friend, a loving relationship. it's something that lifts me up on a bad day, that warms me when it's cold out, that makes me feel better when i'm sick and that allows me to catch up with those i love most. 

on Sunday i hosted a tea party for my nearest and dearest ladies. we all got dressed up in our "Sunday best" - big hats, pearls, pretty dresses, lacy gloves - and gathered at a bakery cafe near my home that holds high tea. i picked friends from different circles and tried to meld them together. anyone who has attempted this before knows that it doesn't always work. 

i've felt a bit at a loss with my friends as of late. my closest are all entering, or are in, a different stage of life (having babies, marriage) than i am. P told me a few months ago that she was pregnant and since then i've kind of felt like my besties are leaving me behind. here they are developing these amazing familial connections and creating homes for themselves and all i've got is a career. a career doesn't hold you at the end of the day or celebrate those little victories with you. B was the only one who i told that i felt that way - i didn't want to make the ladies feel bad or have to listen to comments about me being so young and there being so much time.

as such i've really started to gravitate towards my downtown life and my downtown friends (DTFs) who, like me, have careers and little personal lives. i've picked up some of the roots i had let settle with my besties and put down some new ones with the DTFs.

i guess i hoped that the tea party would show me that my two worlds aren't as far apart as i had imagined, and as they connected and grew to know one another over a pot of that magical healing tea, that I would feel like i belonged in both worlds and that there was a middleground.

instead, i sat in the middle of the group feeling that separation more than ever as i bounced back and forth between conversations that hardly ever crossed over, wondering if everyone was in fact enjoying themselves or if they were just putting on a show to spare my feelings. 

maybe the worlds don't have to cross over. maybe i can be navigate both individually. but sometimes i just feel so disjointed and these days i just feel lost without a map and without someone to help me find the way. 

time to put on a pot of tea. 

My Imp of the Perverse

I started out as an English major when i began university - mostly because i didn't know what i wanted to do, but i knew i liked, and was good at, English. As a result, i've read quite a range of works and sadly, not many stuck with me once the class ended.

My favourite lower division classes however, were my American Lit classes. I don't think i read anything that i didn't like and both professors were wonderful and engaging instructors who made you want to learn understand, whose passion radiated through their lectures and left lasting impressions on my undergraduate mind.

One of my favourite short stories is Edgar Allan Poe's "The Imp of the Perverse." It comments on people's self-destructive behaviours, their "peversity" as it were, and how we crave to do wrong simply because we can and it's an option.

We stand upon the brink of a precipice. We peer into the abyss—we grow sick and dizzy. Our first impulse is to shrink away from the danger. Unaccountably we remain... it is but a thought, although a fearful one, and one which chills the very marrow of our bone with the fierceness of the delight of its horror. It is merely the idea of what would be our sensations during the sweeping precipitancy of a fall from such a height... for this very cause do we now the most vividly desire it.

I sometimes feel this self-destructive desire on my commute home when i cross through the tunnel in the counter-flow lane.

The counter-flow lane used to terrify me. i hated how close my vehicle would be to oncoming traffic. I hated how you could feel the rush of the other vehicles passing you, that all it would take is one person to turn their steering wheel slightly the wrong way and it would be disaster. I avoided it at all costs, always making sure that i took one of the regular lanes.

Then i realized the counter-flow lane moved faster and suddenly, getting home sooner became more important than my fear.

but then a strange thing occurred....i began to imagine steering myself into oncoming traffic. Every time i go through the tunnel, i now think about my wheel slipping and careening head first into a semi truck or a yaris. would i die instantly? would regret wash over me as soon as i did it - would there be time for that? this inexplicable desire, not to end my life - no i'm not suicidal, but to do what i know i shouldn't and what no rational person would do is intoxicating.

i don't consider this my imp of the perverse coercing me to act against my better judgement, i feel like i'm too aware of it to blame it a mythical being. i think where my imp prefers to perverse my life is when it comes to dating.

i choose dating situations that i know have no future because it's easier. i go in expecting it to fail and when it does i can handle the disappointment, i can shrug it off and i can move on to my next victim. the only casualty? my calloused heart as it grows tougher and tougher with each shot of novocaine taking away all feeling as i walk into each new date colder and more distant than the last, leaving pieces of other hearts trailing behind me like a bleeding yellow brick road of buried hopes.

a brain, courage and a heart certainly don't await me at the end of this path. just a pack of flying monkeys coercing me into doing what i know is not good for me.

Romantic Comedy Monologues

My heart hurts.

i poured my heart out to B a few weeks ago. J and her husband joke that it was my romantic comedy speech - her husband didn't think people actually said things like that. but i guess when you've thought about saying something enough times, when you finally do say it there is a bit of that rom-com moment.

I've had a couple dates these past few weeks and on each of those dates with this perfectly nice guy, i spent the whole time thinking about you and what you were doing and whether we might see each other after....and when my date was done i ended up here with you. you're the person i tell everything to, when i have good news or bad news, or silly news like i ate a piece of pizza, you're the first person i tell. and when i think of things that i want to do, you're the person i want to do them with. And ... i'm so jealous that you had a date with some girl....so jealous...

that's probably not a word for word transcript but it captures the gist of what tumbled out of my mouth as i lay in bed (totally G-rated stuff here folks - we're talking about a guy i've never kissed! minds out of the gutter) next to B, the guy who has become my best friend in the last couple years. the guy who i can't imagine not being a part of my life.

B had expressed feelings for me a few times and i had turned him down...i just never thought about him that way. Then there was this moment at a wedding in March....just a moment where i thought, if you were anyone else, someone who didn't matter to me, i would kiss you right now just to see what it'd be like. suddenly everything changed. it sounds corny but suddenly everything was different. his touch felt different, tingly like a soft breeze blowing unexpectedly across my skin, awakening all my senses. spending time with him and his family felt more like i was part of that family.

i started trying to figure things out. i hadn't mentioned anything because i didn't want to say anything if i didnt' understand how i felt. did i like B? how had i gone from never thinking about kissing someone to suddenly imagining all sorts of possibilities? i didn't want to jeopardize the friendship that had grown so near and dear to my heart that it had entwined itself around each vessel and artery, growing alongside and over past scars, creating its own place.

then suddenly there was this girl. no one in particular, just a girl.

and the scars around my heart pulsed and recoiled as they remembered the person who for six years had formerly held B's place, the person who i had tried to confess my feelings to but chickened out and suddenly this girl was there and still is there. the person who slowly stopped talking to me.....who i once called my favorite and who now i only know through Facebook....

so i poured out my heart....partially panicked at the thought of losing my best friend, partially at the thought of potentially building new scars and partially panicked because i have a tendency of keeping my real feelings concealed knowing that being a maneater is easier than being someone who feels.

i was told he still liked me but that he didn't want a relationship right now and you're a relationship girl. the girl who hasn't called someone her boyfriend in 5 years is a relationship girl..

two weeks later. he chose her.

two weeks later and things are different.

two weeks later and texts don't get returned.

two weeks later and my heart hurts.

Uncertain Depths

it's cloudy.

the exact details are hard to remember, like a memory that's been percolating too long and the mind has had the time to supplant its own ideas and version of events. Or like a dream you've thought about so much that you begin to trick yourself into thinking it might have just happened.

but it did happen.

vision got clouded in a smokeless room. judgement was steered in the wrong direction without the help of libations.

a life preserver tossed into a bottomless lake causing ripples to cascade out in all directions.

for her, it started as escape from tiresome conversation, unwanted advances. for him....well, he didn't know he needed saving...yet.

their eyes groped their way across the social divide reaching for the inexplicable familiarity of longing. their laughter reached out and caressed the other, drawing them closer than the music thundering around them. their voices whispered unspoken secrets below the surface of their pleasantries.

the ripples touched those around them, drawing attention to the closeness, to the chasm that had suddenly been placed between them and their friends. people whispered and made judgments, placing bets on how the evening would end, but neither he nor she noticed, lost in the moment with their surroundings melting together in a soundless blur of motion.

she chose to forget what she knew and to ignore the cold piece of metal that invisibly bound him, keeping him at a distance. the heart she had kept hidden for so long beat hard and heavy in her chest propelling her forward through the night. it shivered with each touch and each new piece of information left her craving just one more taste. his words had no sooner left his lips and her taste buds begged for more.

the ripples kept emanating touching the strangers now surrounding them, letting them get a glimpse of the secret written across their faces, their gestures and their every breath.

the night air was a shot of espresso, making the longing more conscious and more deliberate and reaffirming that this wasn't a dream with life-like qualities, but instead life flavoured with dreams of promise.

the ripples had reached a point where their mouths now discussed every reason why they shouldn't, while their bodies screamed every reason why they should. they pirouetted around the magnetic pull. he dipped and she spun, their paths intertwining ever closer.

the shrill sound of a safety whistle echoed across the darkness as waves of desperation and necessity crashed over their lips and flooded their minds with thoughts of possibility.

meanwhile the ripples continued their journey into the shadow creating an uncertain future.

Inner Black Eye

Why are people so disappointing?

All throughout my teenage years, i was told by all of the slackers that i just cared too much and if i didn't care so much, i wouldn't stress myself out and i wouldn't be disappointed when things didn't work out.

my response was always that i didn't know how to not care.

i've always been a planner. it gives me comfort to have an idea of what could be. it gives me a sense of purpose and grounds me. without a plan i feel lost and anxious. me and S were laughing the other day about how i have to "plan to be spontaneous." for some reason, knowing when the appropriate time for that is, gives me peace of mind.

i've never been able to stop caring or planning, except when it comes to my personal life.

I haven't cared about someone else, i mean really cared, since my hair was all one colour, since i worked at a convenience store, since clubbing was a verb that was a regular part of my vocabulary and wasn't used when referring to banging my head against objects due to frustration at work.

i just turned off a part of myself that used to be so open and unconditional and instead, i became someone removed, present but not fully in attendance. I became cold and distant because that meant that i didn't have to be disappointed. perhaps i could be pleasantly surprised instead?

i let go of that hard exterior not too long ago. i felt the pieces crumble and for a little while, i was slowly remembering what it was like when i was just me - no doubts entertained. things had colour again and texture and for the first time in a long time i felt something that i told many of my girlfriends i don't feel when it comes to people: excitement. And hand in glove with that excitement came anticipation for what comes next.

today i'm disappointed. not with someone who seems to have let me down, but with myself. i'm disappointed that i feel stupid. i'm disappointed that i didn't try sooner. i'm disappointed that i think it's not ok to feel something and to have expectations.

so i guess this time, i'm just disappointed that i disappointed myself. More than ever i'm realizing that disappointment is just one of those emotions that outweighs anger and sadness and really leaves a bruise.

Unspeakable Magnetism

Tonight, Tonight, Tonight.
I'm waiting for, waiting for...

What was she waiting for? He was right there beside her and he kept looking at her with that look that seemed to be screaming desire.His looks were something else. When he looked at her she didn't just feel pretty, she knew she was pretty.sometimes he looked at her with such wonder she couldn't help but question what he was actually thinking about. he has this way of grounding you in the situation to the point where the room you're in melts away into the background, sounds dim and people fade and all you are left with is this exchange with him. a one-on-one where clocks follow their own sense of time and she's left feeling lost in the moment.

Tonight, Tonight, Tonight...

she knew she was being a pain, purposely trying to get his attention, to make him watch her instead of his work. she was being selfish but to catch that smile of his, directed at her...she bends over for a book. she saunters around the room. she perches on the desk. finally she takes a seat and touches his arm, she allows her head to touch his shoulder just for a second as she teases him about work. however, the knight's armour is in fine form tonight. but then he rolls his chair back beside her and she can feel her breath catch in her throat as he stops in line with her.

he had asked her to come...well sort of. he had said she could if she wanted but those eyes felt like they were asking her to come. they beckoned her, tugging at her compulsions. she wondered if her eyes were screaming yes even though her mouth was trying to act cool. was he just trying to act cool? or maybe the invitation was out of politeness? another look in those eyes and she knew she was going, the pied piper had played his tune and she felt herself fall into step directly behind.

If words could make it real I'd tell you how I feel

His tune changed to her tune. he was playing her song now. those fingers moved across the strings effortlessly hitting each chord as though he had played it before, as if it were his song too. her breathing quickened as she watched his hands. he played her with each strum, did he know? the guitar might as well have been her body. she felt each chord played, each transition. the hair on her arms rose as she watched with bated breath wondering where he would touch her next, each stroke causing her heart to pound a little harder. his eyes flick up to hers momentarily, just enough to catch her gaze before the connection is shattered and his focus returns to her song. she tries to gather the fragments and put them together into some kind of coherent understanding of what his glances mean. what does he want from her? He looks her way again...eyes lock...

Instead I'm waiting here on my knees

She takes the guitar from his hands, taking his left hand and placing it on the curve of her back. play me, she whispers as she lowers herself onto his lap. his right hand slides up her thigh, strumming out a new song now. her body responding with each new chord that is played. she shivers and he looks away. shattered glances on the floor once more, he's still playing her song. she sings to distract herself from the reality-bending pull from his eyes.

it's getting late.

I'm waiting for, waiting for

he pulls her in for a hug and instead of a quick friendly embrace his arms take her in and pull her against his body as he lifts her from the ground so that her face is parallel to his. there they stand, with her suspended in mid air, cheek to cheek in a moment that passes far too quickly and yet lasts a lifetime. she fights the urge to wrap her legs around him a prompt that might coax him into pressing her up against the wall in what will inevitably be the beginning of more than "friendly" activities. as he places her back on the ground and slowly pulls away, she tries to hold onto the touch allowing herself to peel off of him with the same steady and yet regretful motion as that of melted wax dripping down a candle. she could kiss him right now. she knows she could easily turn her face slightly as she slides past his. she could say something. she could tell him she was going to kiss him just like that first night.....

Tonight, Tonight, Tonight...

But she had set rules. she had said that behaviour had to be appropriate. she had said that she would respect his wishes and his situation and be supportive. she had said she could do that. he had almost let her go. what would he think of her if she did? would he think she was disrespectful, that she obviously didn't listen to his concerns?

I know how it feels to breath with you beside me
I think about it always

touch lingers as fingers interlock and reluctantly fall from one another. he backs away from her and the oxygen leaves the room as she starts towards the door. she looks back to wave, to flash one of her signature smiles. her mouth says goodnight, her eyes say i don't want to leave. he says goodnight. he puts on a half smile that seems to say dont leave me and she fights with her better judgment, knowing that if she steps forward and he doesn't she'll have more than a bruised ego and that's not something she's willing to let him see. so she keeps walking

i'm waiting for, waiting for

she doesn't hear him say come back. she's focusing on making her feet walk forward, one after the other. right. left. right. left. had she heard she would have been in those arms. confirmation in her hand, she would have been with him

Tonight, Tonight, Tonight
i'm waiting for, waiting for the night

Be the Exception, Not the Rule.

During WWII, my Nonna was still living in Italy. From the age of 13, as soon as she finished what they considered grade 5, she began working in the city as a babysitter and housekeeper for a wealthy family in order to help support her family. What she had really wanted to do was be a teacher and her own teacher had even gone to her mother and offered to pay half of her tuition herself if her mother would allow her to continue studying. However, times were tough and my Nonna's father had been captured and was a POW in Germany. Therefore, because my Nonna was the oldest of her brothers and sisters, her mother needed her to go to work. When my Nonna tells the story she always says her mother laughed and asked the teacher if she was stupid. The thought of wasting money for school, for a girl, was unimaginable. So, my Nonna traveled to the city every day to work.

At this time, the war was really raging and the threat of attack was a constant presence in mind. the first time my Nonna heard the alarm sound announcing the threat of bombs, she hurried down to the shelter along with everyone else for protection.She describes it as the most crowded area she has ever been in. the people were packed in, packed in so tightly into this underground area that it became increasingly difficult to breathe with each passing second. The smell was overbearing. The seconds passed by like hours.

After that one time she swore never to go under again. Never.

Now for those who know my Nonna, they know that when she says never she means it. My Nonna, god love her, is one of the most stubborn people I have ever met. Trust me, I've traveled across the world with her and it could come to something as trivial as putting on your seat belt in the airplane, but if she doesn't want to do it - she won't. For better or worse, when she sets her mind to something there's no changing it. I've come to learn that I inherited some of this trait. However, I do hope that because I understand how stubborn I can be that it makes me stop and think from time to time and consider why I feel so set in my ways.

I've really only ever had one act of stubbornness that lead to all out screaming matches with my parents, arguments with my extended family and many tears on my part. When I was close to graduating from high school, I applied to four post secondary institutions: UBC, SFU, UVIC and Kwantlan (my safety). My number one school was UVIC. I didn't really know what I wanted to do, all I knew was that i loved to write and UVIC had a fantastic writing program that I wanted to take. The acceptance letters began rolling in and I was accepted to every school to which I had applied. So I assumed that I would be going to UVIC, my parents however, had other plans. They had assumed I would be going to UBC as my dad works for the university and I am eligible for a tuition waiver. When I told them I was going to UVIC, I was met with strong aversion from my entire family. I was told I was ungrateful, that I was being ridiculous, that my opinions didn't matter. It finally came down to my parents telling me that if I went to UVIC, they would not be helping me financially. Feeling defeated, I was one day away from accepting UBC when a letter arrived from SFU. I had been awarded an entrance scholarship. In that moment I chose my university based not on the school's merits, but because of what it was not: UBC.

When my mother asked if I had sent in my acceptance letter to UBC I spitefully old her that I had accepted SFU and she and my father couldn't say anything about it because they weren't paying for any of it. From that day forward they never paid for one cent towards my education.

The next time the alarm went off warning of a potential bombing, my Nonna was working in the home of the wealthy lady. She was busy dressing her little boy when the alarm wailed through the streets. The lady of the house began pulling at my Nonna to go to the shelter and my Nonna refused. The lady began to beg and plead for my Nonna to go with her but instead my Nonna told the lady to take her little boy and go while she stayed in the house. Wealthy she might be, but it was not a wealth of courage that she held. The lady being too afraid to go on her own decided to stay with my Nonna. My Nonna, the lady and the little boy hid under these great stone steps in the house and waited for the alarm to sound that would tell them the danger had been averted.

I spent seven long years at SFU. I began an English degree which I rushed my way through only to find myself in a panic filled situation where I realized I didn't know what I would do if I graduated. I studied abroad in Italy and learned a valuable lesson from one of my favorite books: "it's not what the world holds for you, it's what you bring to it." I returned from Italy and added a Publishing minor to my program which reminded me that I should be dreaming big and aiming as high as I could for myself. Shortly after starting my minor, I added a Communication major to my program. Communication, a subject I had once thought of as "stupid English" and that was not offered at UBC or UVIC. In fact, SFU's Communication program attracts students from across Canada as it is considered one of the best. All facts I was unaware of and all facts that had no bearing on me falling in love with the program and what it had to offer me in terms of options for the future.

it was during this waiting time that two bombs dropped.....and landed... one on either side of the shelter, killing everyone inside.

It took me seven years to realize that a decision I made because I was too stubborn to accept someone making a life altering decision for me, was one of the best I have ever made. I'm graduating this year and all I can think is where would I be if I had decided to go to UBC. Would I be happy? Would I have a job I love? Would I have met the people that I consider my nearest and dearest? Would I have met my first love? Would I have found self love?

Where would my Nonna be if she had gone into the bomb shelter? Would I be here to reflect on it now?

While I don't think that being stubborn or wholly unbending to alternative ideas and situations is healthy, sometimes, just sometimes, it's in those moments where we follow our gut and act on raw feeling that we can discover the most about ourselves. We can discover that we are the exception, not the rule. It is in these moments that we realize that we don't have to just go through the motions of living but that all of those motions are leading to something great if we want it to. Be the exception. Look for what you need and don't settle for anything that plays contrary to your needs. Be the exception. Fight for what you need to make your future yours, even if that means being stubborn every once in a while because you never know when a bomb might drop and make the decision for you.

Northern Exposure - His Story (authored by the 'He')

thunk. his head falls against the inside of the door.

as he exhales he opens his eyes peering through the peep hole into the hallway.

“c’mon.. “ he whispers to himself. .. waiting. watching. terrified.

flustered with nerves and weightless. clearly out of control and positively
certain. adrenaline races around lighting strikes and through questions
without answers.

he’s afraid to close his eyes. if he looks away even for a second and misses her who knows what he really missed.

“c’mon.” he says allowed.. “how’d I get here?” he thinks.

it was probably 2 hours ago when he first noticed her looking his
direction. and not in a glancing way. in a ‘hold my gaze as long as you
like. i like it too.’ kinda way. probably an hour before that he’d
spoken with her. the normal small talk of sorts. be charming. be kind,
appropriate and nice. “be polite, and you’ll find out what you think
about somebody.” he’d heard before.

what he quickly noticed was that when she laughed, it felt like her hand had
touched his. looking in her eyes felt like a warm hug, and her smile
shot anything clever he could think of out of the sky. his interest was
peaked. and as the details danced closer to the edge of desire, he
realized that really... he knew nothing about her.

as part of his brain fantasized, another part strategized. another part
started to question and another part gave answers, until everything sat
in a giant mess in his mind. and then, smack dab in the middle of all
the half-plotting landed a shot of tequila.

huh?
he searched the table for an answer, yet the answer was at another
table. the oldest of old time gestures. he scoffs to himself at the
nerve of that fellow. he shrugs aside this feeling of unnecessary
jealousy. he goes back to his conversation with another person at the
table just long enough that when he looks back, she’s on her way over to
the table for introductions.

interesting.

the dozen or so futile ideas he had about how to walk out of this place
with his arm around her fell to the ground and exploded on impact,
burning his feet and making him forget how to walk. each thought rattled
quickly from one part of his brain to the next, as he tried harder than
ever not to show it. poker face.

the moment kinda hits him like the house lights at 2:15 AM. A signal
perhaps, who knows. Not him. Better he pays up, join the group and see
about getting home. There’s things to do. Practicality starts to filter
back through his mind.

But as it hits so does the jealousy. An old inclination. Maybe its the
feeling that you get get when something meaningful feels like its
getting shelved for something useless. or maybe he was just wrong about
what felt meaningful.

Fuck it. You got a plan? The only decent one is to get up and leave with
everybody and have her come with. Everyone else gets up to leave
naturally. he feels like an actor.

And then.. it all takes 5 seconds to change. 5 seconds to go from ‘would be
nice’ to ‘what do we do?’. she grabs her hat and jacket, and puts them
on the back of the seat next to him; not on her own back. she won’t be
joining him.

he tries to part the shallow sea of alcohol floating in his mind. his fist
clenches in his pocket. his eyebrow rises. does she know that he’s
thinking of her? would she do this if she did? the cold blast of the
night sky feels colder then it should. its tainted with a combination of
that which is certain and that which is uncertain. ‘what do i do?” does
he do nothing? the cavalry won’t be coming over the hill if she needs
them. there’s no rules out here. he realizes that he knows the tables
intentions more than he knows hers.

15 minutes have past.

sitting elbows on knees boots still on, feeling like he’s been throwing punches underwater.

16 minutes.

she’s an adult. what do i have a crush? why don’t you just relax and realize
that you only feel mad because you feel like you got beat at something.

17 minutes.

that’s ridiculous. beat at something? that doesn’t make any sense. you’re
concerned? sure. you’re infatuated? probably. how come? those eyes
perhaps...

18 minutes...

nope. not happening. can’t do it. no one will be there to help if she needs
it. if she doesn’t, then great. he’d rather upset her and have her safe
then sit like this and not know. selfish. he doesn’t care. he’s the
closest thing to a cavalry that she’s going to find if she needs one.
not a terribly secure feeling - but here we go.

convincing help isn’t difficult. away they go. one of a thousand situations could
play out, but he knows if she’ll be angry or happy to see him right
away. it’s a lovely night otherwise..

perfect timing or the only timing? a minute earlier may have brought about
challenges, from broken beers bottles to drunken negotiating. a minute
later could have brought panic. but there she is.. wrapping things up.
here we go. … get out.

one of them catches him eye to eye. he’s saying his goodbyes, or at least
now knows he should start to. chances are he wasn’t saying goodbye
before hand, but trying to find a way to say to good morning.

put together a pathetic ruse. she’s quick to come to her friends.

safe and sound as they say. he can take his boots off. exhale. minutes later the group is back together.

the magnetism is unmistakable. to his left he can feel her eyes. he wonders
if she can feel how badly he’d like to put his arm around her. he
wonders if it feels more awkward for both of them to not be pressing
closer to each other. he wishes they were alone. even for a second. he
wonders if she’ll try and find him later. or what she would say if he
tried to find her. what would he say? in this room of people every
little thing he wants to say or do would raise an eyebrow. except to
her. she’d understand. she’s thinking the same thing.

ding. elevator opens in the lobby.

1.

2.

217. He’ll never forget 217. 4 or 5 seconds go by with him trying to stare
at her long enough that she’ll read in his eyes that he wants her to
stay with him. her stare seems to say the same thing. “i’ll be sitting
against the inside of my door.” they both say. her door closes quietly.
his heart rate is jacked.

thunk. his head falls against the inside of the door.

as he exhales he opens his eyes peering through the peep hole into the hallway.

“c’mon.. “ he whispers to himself. .. waiting. watching. terrified.