Holly Jolly

Airport again. It's a tradition now, I think you could call it. Already fraught with danger- an hour delay on the highway out to the airport resulted in me yelling and shouting obscenities while D, my driver, calmly told me to Shut the eff up because shouting at people would not make the traffic go faster. Nevertheless, it did result in her pulling onto the shoulder and pulling some sweet, illegal, chotskie-bro moves in order to move ahead. You go, Glen Coco.
London soon. I'm excited to see my dog.
I nearly broke this weekend. My shoulders are carrying so much tension that just touching them hurts. I wonder why I had forgotten about how much finals suck. It's not like it's new knowledge. It shouldn't be a surprise. But maybe because they were my last ones, it was hard to see the finish line. I kept on trying to pull the ol' sprinter trick and look beyond the finish line in order to push as fast as you can until the end, but my farther goal line was so blurry and anxiety-filled that I don't think it helped at all. It just made everything worse.
I don't know what is to become of me! She cried.
Oh, woe is me.
But then I just laugh because seriously, there will be time enough to worry. And this is the Christmas season- jolly and holly and merry and bright and all that. And I'm going to be in England with my fam jam. And I'm done school. And I have the best friends in the world.
OH DARN I'M HUNGRY. THEY BETTER FEED ME ON THIS FLIGHT.

Life Update

I guess I have been missing. And I'm pretty sure no one is missing me. What compels a person to stop writing for months at a time, then pick up again all-of-the-sudden?
Elementary, my dear Watson.
The answer to the first part of the question is: love.
The second part: heart-break.
Writing is necessary, cathartic, more articulate and interesting if it's written with all the pain of being young, beautiful, and tragically over-dramatic.
But I won't go into that.
Since Greece, I have had a myriad of changes in my life. One, and most importantly, my parents and younger brother packed up and moved to York, UK, permanently. My sister bounced across the street to live with our old neighbours, and I landed myself in a big old house in Garneau with a couple of friends.
I started my last semester of my undergrad, and to my surprise and delight I get to fill my hours with painting, sculpture, and Roman Africa. Such a lovely mixture.
I get to balance paying the bills and buying groceries and raking leaves (though lately it's been more shovelling snow) with hosting parties, not making my bed every day, and the luxury of having no parental supervision.
Another reason why I have decided to revisit this blog is because in my mind, this format is a little bit like having an impartial judge listen to me blather on and on, without trying to get in my pants, worm some guilt from my soul, or sell me something.
Ah. It's nice to return.