Lazarus

I feel as though I have returned from the grave, with many stories to share, and experiences under my belt. At first I couldn't understand the draw back to this same old spot, year after year, but it's just that- it has so much emotional history tied to it.

In fact, why I even am back here now is an odd story. I was googling my own name, which I must admit was weird and strange and made me feel vain and shallow, and it led me to my old LookBook profile, which is a testament in itself to who I was 6 years ago, and I saw that I had received a message. I opened it, and it had been sent in January of this year, from a man named Patrick Murphy, asking this:

"This is going to sound strange, and I apologize if it's not you. You wouldn't happen to be an Andrea Lenore Klassen who left a note and some leaves in a book in the autumn of 2005, would you?"

I'm such a curious cat, and I messaged him right back, and even though I'm not expecting to hear anything, it would still would be wonderful to know which book it was, where he found it, what he thought of it, and what the note said. I was pretty dramatic back in 2005 (ha!), and I am betting it said something along the lines of "Oh, how my heart hurts, I want to find love, I miss the ocean and the mountains, Edmonton sucks, the Fall is so beautiful"...you get the picture. Anyway, this old blog is linked to my LookBook, and so I decided to take a trip here. And now I'm stuck. I can't let it languish. I must write more, give it LIFE!

So. Let me catch you up. I spent a year in Melbourne, Australia. I am currently in London, UK. I don't know how to go forward. I am stuck. I am staying with a friend, and today I cleaned her flat and made sweet potato fries while she was at work and now out on a date. I feel like someone's wife, but with none of the satisfaction.

Melbourne was good. Hard, but good. I fell in love. For real this time, very deeply and almost foolishly. When I came to the UK for Christmas, he came and met my family. But, now, he is back in Melbourne and I am in London. To be perfectly honest, that's probably why I never wrote anything. For an entire year, my creativity flew out the window, to be replaced with all-consuming mushy gushy thoughts and desires. Cliches abounded.

I have a ring on my finger, and we're supposed to get married someday. Probably in a few months, maybe September. Time flies. My friend Ian messaged me yesterday, saying he still couldn't wrap his head around the fact that I was engaged. I asked him why, and he said I would get annoyed at him if he told me. Obviously, he wanted me to beg him to tell me, so I went right ahead and did that. He eventually said that I was too flighty, and would never follow through with it.

Sounds like a challenge to me. I'm also challenging myself to start writing more again. But we'll see. Apparently, I'm flighty.