23

"I was 21 years when I wrote this song.
  23 now, but I won't be for long.

  Time hurries on,
  And the leaves that are green turn to brown."
(Leaves That Are Green, Simon & Garfunkel)

I used to get anxious when I thought about the future. I remember sitting on a swing set with my cousin Jacq at the end of a long, hot summer day, and talking about our fears of entering grade 7- the year before we entered high school. I think I was nervous to have a locker, and to find my classes, and to be in a school with children as old as 18- who I guess aren't really children anymore, when you reach the legal age of voting.
But then it just naturally happened. One day I was going to the new school, and I was with my friends and a bunch of kids I didn't know, and everything went smoothly. The transition was easy.
The same thing happened with university. One year I had no idea what to expect. I didn't have a clue what a "major" or a "minor" was, or why I had to "declare" one, or why the Engineers had such a nice new building and I was stuck in a 1970's nightmare with asbestos in the walls. Then, about half way through my third week, everything fell into place. This was fun. I could talk to strangers, make new friends, learn such fascinating subjects.

Right now I feel the same way about the future. I have no idea how I am supposed to deal with my taxes, or find a fulfilling career, or even push out babies one day. But if I have gained any wisdom whatsoever from my past, it should be enough to know that when the time comes about for these things, I will find the strength and the courage and the humour to navigate them with grace and humility.

I'm turning 24 soon. People now make fun of us in our early 20's. You know nothing, they scoff. You are still barely formed human beings. You have no idea who you are and what you want. And I do, and don't, agree with them. Yes, maybe I am still learning new things about myself every other week, and yes, maybe I make mistakes more than you do. I still have a long way to go to figure out everything about myself and the world. But, I know what I want.

I want to be near to my biological family, and my chosen family. Maybe this doesn't mean geographical location, but that's not all that nearness entails. Family and my closest friends are the most important things in my life. When I am on my deathbed, the classes I took and the jobs I held and the money I hoarded will mean nothing. It boils down to love, plain and simple. Giving it, and receiving it.

I want to give joy to those around me. More superficially, I want a home full of flowers and laughter. I want to see more of the world, and discover how everyone is the same, and yet unique. I want to crusade for peace. I want to not stand idly by when wrongs are being done. I want to find the strength to do the right thing even when it hurts me.

I want to stay up all night sometimes, eating cake and drinking beer with my friends. I want to see more sunrises. I want to slurp noodles from a bowl of pho and laugh at the noise. I want to be held tight at night, and I want to be happy with being alone at night too.

I want to stretch my body to its limits. I want to feel whole in my skin. I want to feel every molecule of my being tingle when I jump off the dock after laying in the hot sun into the navy depths of the lake. I want to sail around some PNG islands and become tanned from the sun, and strong from hard work, and bleached from the salt water.

"I've discovered that there are only ever two reasons why anybody does anything: there is fear, and there is love." (Sister Julienne, Call the Midwife)  I want to do things out of love, not fear. I want to have children, and I want to not be frightened by the amount of love I feel towards them.

The Last Half-hour of 2012

Fire crackers and loud boys singing words I don't know if I would want to know, even if they spoke slowly and clearly enough for me to understand.
I like New Years posts.
2012.
I had a quiet, sad, spring. For some reason school and work and family stuff exhausted me to the point of illness, and even though I tried to plod on with my head up I could never muster the energy to get the smile to reach my eyes. My friends later told me that they had all been worried about me.
Luckily, there was Jamie the Australian in February. He was a marvellous distraction for the week he visited. It was a good mini-break from my dull reality. Linds threw me my first surprise party for my birthday in March. That was fantastic.

And of course, Greece in the summer. I think I may have faded to nothing, or had some serious trouble if I hadn't had that time away. The sun, and the heat, and the physical labour that knocked me out every night, along with 1.5 litre bottles of Amstel. My friends Linds, Amber and Britt, and a chance to think clearly, which I had been missing for months.

The end of the summer with that Whistler and Christina Lake road-trip with my siblings was pure gold. I was happy, truly, every day, ever since I had gotten back from excavating. And then, like a cherry on top, an added treasure that I could have never expected, a gift greater than anything I had imagined receiving- J.

The fall and early winter was such a mix of extreme highs and unbelievable lows. If there is one thing to be thankful for, it's that at least I'm off the bloody roller-coaster. It physically makes my stomach ache to think too hard about it even now, and I still walk in the Valley of the Shadow daily, but I cling to the hope that there is nowhere left for me to go but up. I believe that someday, with time, I will be able to look back and see a period of growth and learning.

And my winter so far- well, let's count B as a great source of distraction with his symphony, opera, cocktail parties, letters, and gifts. And my dearest roommates who were always there for me, and willing to lend an ear, and even just sit and watch a movie, or pose for my painting projects. That group of 3 have become so essential to my life. Of course now there is England with my family, and this time is special, to be guarded carefully and thoroughly enjoyed.

I look with watchful eyes to the future year. A little bit more scarred, a lot more careful- it's not fear that makes me cautious, rather, a greater understanding of the world and of human nature. But still there is so much joy to be felt, and beauty to uncover, and absurd experiences to be had- when it comes down to it, I can't wait to see what the New Year brings.

Happy New Year everyone.
xoxo

Christmas Wish

I don't think it is just Christmas. I think that I've worked hard at this, put in time and effort and thought and heart, for it is very rarely that you get something from nothing. But for the past few months, after I hid my head figuratively in the sand, I feel so surrounded by love. I would say right now that my family is the most important thing to me. My family has always been there, and always will be. Sometimes I forget this, and go off searching for new unconditional love sources, but I always come crawling back to my family eventually. Sometimes I forget that where we are living now is not going to be forever, and when a sudden change occurs it is a reminder to huddle closer to the family core, to depend and rely on them and them alone.
I love my friends, very much indeed. Without them I wouldn't be sane. But my ultimate loyalty doesn't lie with them.
And lately, when boys are trying to shift our friendship into something deeper, I can see that they aren't strong enough, aren't serious and deep and wide enough to want to live somewhere else. Maybe that's the problem with Edmonton boys. They are comfortable here, and for them, comfort is the highest level they strive for.
I want to strive for more than just comfort. More than just fine, dandy, happy. More than just OK. I swear, this place has sucked me into a vortex of being complacent and accepting of my life however it looks. I want more. I need more. I want better, higher, faster, stronger.

Last night at the Christmas Eve service, I knew in my utmost soul that HE would be there. And afterwards, as I was flying around the lobby in my heels and fur coat, I saw Him out of the corner of my eye. I thought I was used to this, but still my face burned then all the blood drained away and I was sweating and shaking. Should I go say hello? It's been 3 1/2 years now, I can do this. And I turned my back to Him, took off my coat and scarf, and ran. I ran all the way down the stairs and through the doors to where my friend was standing, and I grabbed her hand, trembling, said He is here. Just in the lobby. I can't go back out there.

She knew who I was talking about. Darling, are you sure? Put on your coat now, and your scarf. You look beautiful. Stop shaking. I'll walk out there with you.

Mutely I obeyed, still holding her hand, plastered a smile on my frozen face, and we walked out. He wasn't there. He was gone.
I swear He was here just two minutes ago, I said. Of course, maybe you were just imagining it dear.
No no, I protested. He was there, talking to an older man, with slicked back hair and blending in as always.
Euro-trash, she muttered. Well, I'm glad I can call Him that now.
I managed the beginnings of a real smile at that. Ha, yeah, He kind of is Euro-trash, eh?
Definitely.

Later, because none of my family saw Him, and I was feeling like a paranoid schizophrenic for imagining Him into existence on Christmas Eve, I texted Dr. Sexy (one of His old best friends) and asked if He had been there. Yes, said Dr. Sexy, He was there. How are you?
Merry Christmas, I replied. Thank you for proving my sanity.

One year, when I am maybe not so young and naieve, and perhaps I have returned here for a visit after a long absence, I know I will run into him and be able to greet him graciously and maturely and generously.  The time will come when my body and brain don't shut down and go into fight or flight mode. I'd like to be looking beautiful and successful and have a gorgeous man or two on my arm, but if that's too much to ask for, then just make me kind. 

Merry Christmas everyone, and may you all be filled with joy and light and most importantly love, and I wish with all my heart that no one runs into their ex's for the rest of the holidays. Be safe.

He makes me upset. He has the capacity to ruin my entire day, make me shake and feel dizzy and pale and short of breath and like I want to cry. Why can't he leave me alone? Why can't I leave him alone either? He has made it very clear that he doesn't want to be friends, doesn't want to be anything but lovers, and I don't agree.
But he told Robyn that we had a chemistry that he couldn't ignore, that I was purposely avoiding but that existed more strongly then he had ever felt before, and that that was the reason why, after 4 years, he gambled everything he had and lost.
I don't agree, I don't agree, I don't agree. His telling me he wants to be with me in only a sexual way makes me feel like a slut, a whore, used and hurt and bruised. AND YET- I loved him once. We did have a bond between us. I feel like this isn't the boy I know, he would never act like this, and that's why it hurts.
And the reason I shake and go pale and feel dizzy every time I see him, or hear from him, is because once I thought I did know him, and the him I once knew would never lie, and so maybe- just maybe- he is right about this too. Maybe we do belong together, and I am blind.