Tuesday, January 22, 2013


Home. It’s where we are from. The place where we grew as people. Where we learn how to walk, talk, use a spoon, ride a bike. It’s where our families are, our childhood friends. We know the back roads, the short cuts, the best routes.

Then home grows too small. We can’t stretch our legs or run far enough away. Like Alice, we’re sticking out of every open window and pushing the roof off. Eventually, we push the familiar away, not wanting what we are used to.

We’ve spent the first 16, 17, 18 years trying to figure things out. Then we want new things to figure out, a new puzzle. If we push hard enough, we’ll break the plastic. We trip and fall into the unexplored. Diving into dark water only to find a shore on the other side. We become Lewis and Clark, exploring sites unseen.

But time passes. We get use to being away. We lose touch with who we were, where we were, who we knew. We transition, forming into a new mold, melting into the cracks. Starting a new life is easy. But making it stick is hard. Meeting new people, trying new things, going to new places, it’s easy until you have to find your way back. We become well traveled, more knowledgeable but with nobody to share with but our own minds. We try activities and foods that we would possibly never try at home. But the novelty wears off. We get updates from home, “____ is doing this,” “_____ is doing that,” and start to wonder, when will “here” become “home?”

When will the navigation turn off and the short cuts turn on?

When will the friends you try to make become the friends you’ve always had?

When does here become home?

Monday, January 21, 2013

One for the History Books...

Today is a big day. 
I don't really know how to tell you what I'm feeling but I am proud of my country today.
Proud that we are making history.
Proud that my fellow American's pulled through and elected the right choice for our future.
Proud that one day, I can tell my children how my vote helped change the course of history.
Proud that my country has a great leader.

Thursday, January 17, 2013

The Big V.

While reading another blog today, I started thinking about Valentine's Day. As a female in a long term relationship, you'd assume that I love Valentine's Day. But you assume very wrong.

I don't really support the social stigma behind V-Day and I hate how much pressure it puts upon couples. Like me, for example. I am the WORST at coming up with ideas. Then I battle with my gender. As the woman in the relationship, do I need to do anything for Valentine's Day? Some would say it's the man's job to show the love on this particular day, as obviously, us females show the love all the other days of the year.

But I disagree, sir.

I think us women need to show our men just as much love on this stupid fateful day, no??

So that got me thinking. I wish I were dating a guy who loved simple things, like football, food and porn (yeah, I said it) because Valentine's Day would be simple. I had to go and pick a guy who's so thoughtful, creative and extensive. Sometimes I feel like I have to compete with him!

While I worked on V-Day last year, Jake surprised me with an amazing day trip to Newport, Rhode Island where we toured the ridiculously amazing mansions there.

It was such a great day.
So  now I'm thinking, we're in this fantastic new city with a million things to explore and DO, but where do I start??
Do any of you have any awesome suggestions?? I'm working on a few things but I want to get it all locked down EARLY.

Feel My Kick!

Guys....I think I found it...I think I found the exercise class that I want to take every day from now until eternity...


Great Fitness.

I'm telling you guys, I am so glad I went! A girl I work with asked me last night if I would go and on a whim I decide to go! I'm trying to get super serious about this hot body for Vegas thing. 

{I'm going to Vegas in June for EDC 2013  and I am determined that I will be comfortable in a swim suit top and shorts. It's been a long time since I've felt sexy and confident in little clothing and I don't want to ruin my trip being self conscious.}

So in efforts to achieve this, I'm taking my exercise and food very seriously. I'm using my FAVORITE food tracking tool: My Fitness Pal and making sure I put everything in there, even the pick velvet cupcake I just consumed (I know, I know, I shouldn't have eaten it but Jake bought it for me and it was a really sweet moment and it was....really good...and I believe I shouldn't deprive myself... :) ). It's a really great way to keep yourself on track.

So on that note, I'm going to keep moving since I can already feel my body aching from this morning and I think if I stop I may never get started again!

Wednesday, January 16, 2013


I am troubled. The trouble with my trouble is that I have none. This is why it haunts me. As I drive down East Main, I pass the cemetery. Those people are troubled. They are dead. What makes their problems so real? I pass a young girl, high school aged, with her gray hood up and long black hair streaming in the cold, early October wind. She has patches on her sweater, probably for bands she likes and concerts she’s been to. She’s in high school of course she’s troubled. If the dead people and the high school girl can be troubled, why can’t I?
Ashland, OR
The right turn comes and I focus back on the road in front. My left hand is cold; it hangs out the window with a half smoked cigarette. I hate the taste so I throw it out. So many things had changed in the past few weeks. Social habit turns to addiction. Thrilling casual run-ins with good friends doesn’t make me feel better anymore. Time to find a new good friend, I think. The heat is up too high and the window is down, somehow that feels ironic to me. Smokers usually have the heat on high while the freezing winter air pours in through the open window. I should stop smoking for winter. 
Out of the car, I cross the street and through the little square in the center of town. A small group of homeless youths or just dirty high school kids trying to be something different gather around a park bench smoking cigarettes and plucking at guitars. Nobody is original anymore. I want to tell them someone has already written that song, but I keep walking. Inside the shop of my choice, I look at different candles and bags and posters and listen to the old rock video they play on a big screen in the back of the store. Nothing catches my eye so I choose not to spend money just yet.
Downstairs in the clothing section, I observe a young girl with her grandmother. She is getting new boots. Not practical boots that will hold up against winter snow and rain, but slightly stylish boots that look too old for her. I think she looks stupid. A girl maybe fifteen years old wearing boots that came just from Paris, her straight-legged jeans tucked into the top. Right off the page. I see myself getting nowhere here so I leave.
As I walk towards the door, I stop and browse the nose rings, hoping to see something I like. I pick a simple silver loop and give the lady behind the counter my money. Driving home I notice my car smells like cigarettes and it disgusts me. I make the choice right then to not smoke in the car, and to maybe clean it out. At home, I put the nose ring in. I think it looks slightly odd on me, but then again, I am not original and so it doesn’t matter.
My alarm goes off. It’s four o’clock. I set the alarm incase I fell asleep on the carpet and wouldn’t miss work. Sleep is all I can think about lately. Nothing seems in interest me more then sleep and food. I look at the collection of sweaters that makes up what I wore that week to school and I get sad. I started birth control again so I think I’ll get fat. The sight of sweaters makes me nervous. Winter is coming, or is already here, and that makes me anxious.
I don’t have problems. My biggest problem is whether or not they’re going to make me a server at work yet or not. I think too much, that might be a problem I have. I make up shit in my head to make myself feel better. I almost wish I had problems so that I had something more interesting to write about. But people get a kick out of extra-ordinary lives.

Written in a Memoir writing class in college. All real events.

Monday, January 14, 2013

I Will Follow You Into the Dark.

It was dark in the basement apartment that night in December 2005. I remember it was a long basement. There was a bathroom at the end of the room next to the door out. The carpet was old, a dark brown color. It had been worn down so it wasn’t fluffy anymore. The walls were a dark color, fake wood paneling. The lights were off because we were watching The Grudge. The bed was just a mattress on the floor with a few blankets and the odd pillow. There were no decorations, just a few kids’ toys in the corner by the TV.

I was there with my high school best friend, Callie, her boyfriend, Ryan, and my boyfriend, Cody. I’d been seeing Cody for a few weeks. I was 17 and a senior in high school. Cody was 27 and worked in a car garage. I kept this part of my life separate from my friends, my family and everyone else close to me except Callie. This was our secret. This was my secret. Nobody would understand us, we knew that. I wasn’t ready to tell anyone.

I knew there was something wrong with Cody the night I met him. Callie had told me the night we went over there that he was sick and wasn’t going to get better. We met in the parking lot outside our work, smoking cigarettes and blushing. I think it was this that made me love him. I didn’t know what was wrong with him, but I knew it had to be bad. I had my assumptions but I wanted to hear the words.
Cody and I were lying on the mattress, my head on his chest. I could smell him, he always smelled like oranges and cigars. Neither of us were paying attention to the movie, Callie and Ryan were outside, smoking cigarettes, drinking Sparks and contemplating running away together, no doubt. Cody suddenly sat up and told me he had something to tell me. I knew by his tone that it wasn’t good. As we sat in the dark, I could see the light from the TV glinting, reflecting off the beads of sweat on his forehead, off his eyes. They were watery. I will never forget the first sentence out of his mouth.

In the following minutes I have never felt so many emotions run through my body, through my blood. Cody was HIV positive. I felt like my body had shut down and I was swimming. My heart sank into my stomach. My skin prickled, hypersensitive to every breath of air. It was a feeling that I will never forget. I stared at him, I had nothing to say. He proceeded to tell me how he got HIV. That he got it from an ex-girlfriend who made some bad decisions. Who came to him for a second chance and who took away his chance at a normal life. I was scared and angry. The only thought running through my head was he’s dying, he’s dying.

Our relationship only lasted a few months and mostly consisted of me sneaking away from work to steal kisses and talk about life. It was exciting and liberating to have a part of my life no one knew about, to have someone completely my own. My parents eventually read my journals and found out. When he told me he had HIV, it was the most painful moment I can remember. I will always remember the feelings I had, the tears and questions. I can see the room, I can smell him and I can feel the pain I felt. I can feel the pain he felt.

About a year later I ran into Cody again. On July 4th I was on a date with a boy from school. We went into Portland to see the fireworks. We ran across the bridge, weaving through the cars parked midway. We stood on the railings and kissed under the fireworks. We spent the following 3 hours battling the Max trains to get home. It was a hot summer and I wore a green short-sleeved sweater. 

I heard my name and turned. It was like that moment when you are thrown awake by a bright light. It takes a few moments for your eyes to adjust. First there's the blinding white, then as the colors seep in, first red then orange and blue. It was like everything around him was blank. He sat there, a few seats away, grinning at me. He talked, asking how life was, how Callie was and if we'd heard from Ryan. I smiled and laughed, telling him I was heading to college in the fall. It lasted only three stops. Then he was gone. 

I was left with hot skin, like someone had wrapped their hand around my arm and searing their prints into my life. As I sit here 3,000 miles and 7 years later, I can still feel the stubble on his chin, smell the orange and cigar smell of his apartment, hear his voice calling from the pay phone on the corner. 

I think that was the first time I ever truly, whole heartedly, loved another human being. 

But I'm Working On It.

Getting my words out is slowly getting better. I'm slowly starting to feel back in the swing of things. Work last week helped for sure. 

My life is in constant change, so sometimes it's hard to get back into it. For example, we were told a few months ago that next year (you know, we move every year etc) we would settle down (as in our last move) in Hoboken, New Jersey. But last week, Jake was offered and accepted a year position in Arkansas.

I know a lot of you may be pulling a face at Arkansas..that seems to be the reaction I'm getting from other people as well. But I'm really excited. We know people there, who I really like so it'll be nice to have someone to show me around a little. It'll be really cheap to live there, which will be good for me to get on my feet financially. And honestly I'm looking forward to a smaller, maybe slower paced place to live. Toronto is amazing, don't get me wrong, but sometimes it's a bit fast. 

So I'm getting used to the idea of being in the northern south area next year and trying to get into the swing of things and find my usual balance of sleep, work, gym and social life. For some reason, this year is harder then last. Maybe because I don't have a day job and I'm left to my own devices it's hard.

Maybe that will change soon.

But for now, I'll settle in writing short, almost nonsensical posts. 

Jake and I went for a walk and this is what we found.

Thursday, January 10, 2013

Forming Sentences.

Before Christmas, I was having a lot of problems writing a post and finishing it. In my draft folder, I have literally 14 posts. All started but none finished. But I think that's the problem I was having last year (it's fun to say that). I have a lot of words that want to come out, but I can't form enough full sentences to complete the post.

Even today, right now, I'm having a problem focusing my brain long enough to put this together. Has anyone else had that problem?

There's a lot coming up in this year and I'm looking forward to it all. I'm going to find a way to express myself and I'm trying with words. For now, this is all I have.

Soymilk, nutmeg and honey.

Tuesday, January 8, 2013

Pre-Spring Clean.

I feel like I'm coming out of a Christmas-coma. Jake and I were away from December 18th till January 4th and it felt like an eternity. But today is my first day back at work and I need to pull myself together. 

It's like pre-Spring cleaning.

I just cleared all the Christmas out of the apartment, aired it out and now it's time to embrace 2013 and get a move on!

I'll be back up and running soon, I need to gather myself, say good bye to 2012 and move on.

Thanks for staying tune!

Toronto waterfront.