Getting Into The Spirit

Guys, Valentine's Day is coming....

...I think about this and imagine a Godzilla-sized, pink-and-red clad, heart shaped candy-wielding monster coming to get me and publicly force me to prove my love for Jake. But, I'm luckily dating one of the most creative and spontaneous guys literally around and he always comes up with some great ideas for Valentine's Day!

Note: I'm not bragging about my Valentine's experiences. In the past, I've usually loathed them, and I kind of do today. I'm just trying to share my unusual experiences to show you Valentine's doesn't have to be boring!

As a result of all the cool shit we get up to on our journey together, I've started keeping a box of souvenirs! This all ties together I promise. I thought it would be a cool idea to pull an item from the box and maybe share it's story. It just happens that the item I picked came from our Valentine's Day celebration last year!

When we Arrived

For Valentine's Day last year, Jake took me to a local winery in the Ontario countryside...Okay, this sounds super fancy already but it was February so that means that the countryside wasn't very visually appealing...unless you like an endless snow tundra...

Anyway.

We went to this delightful, small winery in Jordan, Ontario named Creekside Estate and stayed at

Cooper's Cottage

Inn on the Twenty. We spent the first night at a great local pub (I think literally the only other place besides the winery in town...I kid you not, this place was tiny), got drunk on cheap beer and played pool while a 3 man band played to the almost empty bar. The next day was full of sightseeing the area and exploring around us. We wound up in St. Catharines, which was pretty adorable; loads of little shops and restaurants, cute little places to go and be super Canadian. 

Unfortunately, it was literally freezing and we ran from place to place to keep warm. We decided to attend a movie playing at the local theater. And when I say theater, I mean like play theater not movie theater. Turns out the local theater goes unused in Shaw Festival off-season, so what better way to keep it in use than to show movies?! We saw Silver Linings Playbook that afternoon a midst the swarms of older patrons and middle aged couples. 

Breakfast!

Before the show, there was a set up of wine and pastries, all raising money for local organizations and providing a fun atmosphere than a normal movie theater. We arrived slightly early, battling the cars to parking spots and rushing through the snow to find warmth inside. After downing a glass of wine each while watching the slowly drifting snow, we all shuffled into the theater and the movie began. 

There's something so amazing about that weekend. This ticket stub will hold a place in my heart for ages to come! I hope everyone has a pleasant Valentine's Day, and if not, then I hope you have a great time bashing the vile day with your close girlfriends and hopefully one of many bottles of wine!

And just remember that memories are greater than presents!

Something to Miss.

Oh, Annex.

Last night was the Competitive Showcase for the studio where I work. I started there in September and soon realized just how awesome all these people are. From the students and their families to the teachers and faculty. It's weird to think, but I found a little home away from home. 

As I sit here getting ready to head back into the studio for Saturday classes, I kind of just got sad. I have a little over 4 months left here in Toronto and, after watching all the girls I've gotten accustomed to seeing every day and spending some quality time with the teachers (who I now consider my friends), I realize that I finally feel like I belong somewhere. That's a feel you don't get often when you move every year.

It's not a feeling that I can describe very well. It's like seeing a person you missed very much for the first time in a long time. It's like a relief. It's like sitting down after a really long day. It just feels so nice, that relief, that seeing someone you miss, that finally having people who you feel you belong with. I am very grateful that I have something from this year that I will remember forever and will always have with me. 

Company members getting ready for a half time show.

When I started on this journey, after a rough year in Connecticut, I was afraid that the rest would be the same. That I wouldn't feel like I belonged anywhere other then Oregon. That I wouldn't meet people who liked me or understood me or accepted me like my friends and family in Oregon. I think I was more afraid that I would come away from all of this without any really good connections or memories. But now I have something good to move on with. 

I just hope that in a year, 5 years, maybe 10, that these people who have touched my life, can look back and remember me too. 

I'll miss Toronto, that's for sure.

The 'Ships.

I think I should write a book about the 'ships. Not just relationships. Not just friendships. Both. The 'ships. And not because I'm spectacularly good at them, but I could at least write a book about what not to do because I've made a lot of mistakes in my [almost] 25 short years. 

I think a lot about regret. When I'm 40 , will I look back and regret anything or wish I did things different? I've been thinking about it a lot this week. My best friend from college is going through a very rough patch, something I can't begin to understand, and it's made a part of my heart ache. That ache has woken a part of me from this weird numb slumber.

So this week I've been reflecting on the 'ships. I've been thinking what the 'ships means to me and what 'ships I have left.

I say 'left' for this reason: 2 years ago I made the conscious decision to change my life. I decided that I wanted to follow Jake in his pursuit of a career in hope that I would also find mine. As a result, a recently noticed result, I gave up a lot of friendships. I didn't intentionally give up on them, I don't even think give up is the appropriate word but as a result of me being so caught up in the excitement of being in a new place and the selfishness of being caught up in my life, I forgot to nurture the relationships with those I cared about. 



Boston Public Library.

Now I find myself a stranger looking in on the lives of those who I was a part of for a long time. And it's a very strange feeling. And I'm kind of suffering because of it.

As cliche as it is, a relationship (whether it be friend or romantic) is exactly like a ship. You begin a relationship with excitement and anticipation just as you board a ship looking forward to your journey. You could be lucky and sail smoothly around, enjoying the sunshine and good times. Or you could encounter choppy water, a storm or sharks. Then you dock, you come to the end of the journey, whether you realize it or not. Maybe some of my ships has docked and I'm just not ready to get off the boat.

This will never mean that that particular journey wasn't worth the trip or the time. This will never mean that you will forget that ship, the lessons, the memories. This just means that it's time to find a new voyage.

I'm a firm believer in fate, destiny, karma also. I think we meet people for a reason. I think we are meant to take something away from their spirit and carry it with us. Thinking back through my important 'ships, I've learned a specific thing from each person. I've learned it's okay to be a romantic. I've learned that I can do better things then I give myself credit for. I've learned not to put a romantic relationship ahead of friendship, especially if the guy is an obvious loser. I've learned to let my pride go when appropriate. I've learned how not to judge people. I've learned to listen first and talk later.

As cliche as it is, a relationship is exactly like a ship. So does this mean I can climb back on board, even to those ships I neglected, grab some paddles and work my way to sail again? Or are some ships meant to never sail again?



 

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. 

The Dirty Life.

Currently, I'm reading The Dirty Life. It's a story about a woman who suddenly finds herself uprooting everything she has been her whole life, falling in love with a rustic farmer and starting a farm from scratch with him.

Now, I've found myself, more often then not, totally relating to her, the situations she finds herself in and the path she chooses to take. I'm not exactly on a path like hers, I'm actually following that path in an arcing fashion.

Source.

I was raised more on a farm then not (meaning I did farm-esque chores and had more of a farm life then any other kid I was friends with. I know how to clean out animal pens, identify types of chickens by their egg color and clip wings while I don't know how to play Super Mario, I couldn't name more then two cartoon shows and I wouldn't be able to name all the charms in Lucky Charms). Some of the stories the author tells remind me of times on my parents land, the ridiculous things I've done in the name of 'farming' and what I plan to do with my life.

As much as I've tried to fight the farmers life, it's buried deep inside my soul. I have come to terms with the fact that I will spend the rest of my life somewhere within the vicinity of farming. Lucky girl I am, in my attempts to push myself further into urban life, I've found myself smack dab in the middle of a (really good) relationship with a guy who, at some point, wants to join the over-all wearing, straw hat totin', hoin' kind.

Fresh from my parents garden.

But I must say, reading this book has made me miss Oregon. I was walking to work this morning and I had some crazy deja vu about walking down the garden at my parents house, the familiar crunchy-squelch of the wet, muddy grass covered in half frozen leaves. The dogs running on ahead, occasionally barking at a squirrel who thought it was safe to exit the apple tree. I thought about opening the chicken coop, shooing squawking hens off the nests and carefully putting warm eggs in a tub. 

As I sit here, remembering the feel of the air, the smell of the grass and the sounds surrounding me, I can also imagine the scoffing my parents just be doing right now. It's hard growing up doing different things then all your friends. Of course, when I was 12 the last thing I wanted to do on a Saturday morning was clean out the rabbit run, shovel chicken crap or help stack wood, but as I'm getting older and moving to all these different, mostly more urban places, I miss those days.

The garden after my sister's wedding.

Maybe it's the time of year, with winter coming and the holidays close behind. I think I miss the warmth of the wood stove in my parents' kitchen, the smell of baking bread, the familiar puddles of warmth in bed as the hot water bottle heats the covers. I miss the tinkling of the front gate bell and the twinkle of the lights from the house shining through the holly tree out front. I miss my dog, Chasey, sleeping on her strangely over-stuffed yet too small for her dog bed and the silky soft cat who I swear will probably never die sneaking into the kitchen unnoticed by the dog to curl up on the chair by the wood stove.

It's so weird the things you miss as you get older.

Casual Vacancy.

What I enjoy most about my 2 hour subway commute each day is the free reading time. Time sure does fly when you're nose deep in a good book!

Since I've been in Toronto I've read (or in some cases reread) the following while on the subway:

His Dark Materials

1. His Dark Materials by Philip Pullman: I read these all when I was younger but they have so much to offer older readers. They did make The Golden Compass into a movie but it was so very disappointing. They mixed the whole story up and the ending wasn't the proper ending. I was hoping so much it would be good because I would kill to see The Subtle Knife as a movie. Maybe someday...

The Girl With The Dragon Tattoo

2. The Girl With The Dragon Tattoo by Stieg Larsson: I loved this book so much! It was amazing! Last night I actually watched the movie (American version) and it was...decent. I want to watch the Swidish version, I feel like that'll be so much better. The story took some getting into but it was awesome. So intricate! I can't wait to have the second and third book! Hmm, Christmas present?!

Casual Vacancy

3. Casual Vacancy by J.K. Rowling: This book was very different then what I was expecting. Actually, if I'm honest, I wasn't sure what to expect. I picked this up on a whim at Costco one day because I was feeling lost without a book after I finished The Girl With The Dragon Tattoo. 

I really liked this book. It wasn't anything near Harry Potter and I'm glad for it. I think it shows her versatilitiy. The story surrounds a small, English community and follows a series of families and various community members after the sudden death of someone in their community. It really shows you just how connected everyone is.

The story was so beautifully painted and even though it's not action packed or has a romantic story or anything, it's never dull. I really enjoyed it and am kind of sad it's over. The ending, however was good, not great. I was a little...dissapointed in the endning, I just don't think it summed up the story very well. But overall, a good read.

Now I'm onto a book my mom bought me for my birthday:

The Dirty Life

This is the story of how Kristin Kimball gave up her journalistic career and moved to the middle of nowhere on a whim with a farmer she fell in love with.

It seems to be a quick read so far, easy to read and get into.

I've really been enjoying the story as well. Multiple times already I've laughed out loud. I don't know how many people can read a story like this an enjoy it, however. Some things I've totally been able to relate to. For example, when Mark (the sexy farmer she falls in love with) goes through a phase and decides that they won't use electricity and instead everything must be done by natural light or candle light. I could see Jake doing something like that. Or when Mark builds a composting toilet in the middle of the living room. I could totally see my parents doing that.

Just little things about farm work I can relate to. Hauling buckets and buckets of water to the animals because the pipes froze. Having to clean out the animals, hauling hay, picking veggies and fruits, collecting the eggs in the morning. Not by any means was the farm a lived on as big as she now is a part of, but it was still, and has become more, a lot of work. I respect my parents for maintaining and building upon their little farm!

In all honesty, this book has developed this little itch inside of me. This little voice says, 'you know someday, you'll have something like this. Someday you'll have animals to tend to, veggies to pick and water to haul.'

HA. If only 12 year old me could hear that.

Have you read anything good lately?

Remembrance.

11 years ago today, the World Trade Towers were hit and America was changed forever.

1.

And as I sit here today, at my desk at my internship in Toronto, I realize that it's the first anniversary since it happened that I haven't remembered. Usually, the pictures we're so familiar with, the videos and the music, it's all over. But I sit here and read the Facebook updates and Twitter updates of my friends and realize how much of an impact being in a different country has on a person.

I have never really considered myself a really patriotic person. I grew up with strong British roots and found myself at an early age identifying with the liberal swing of our country. While I may not have understood a lot, I sure developed opinions at an early age. But over the years of developing my own opinions and strengthening my education, I continue to stand by my premature liberalism.

When I found out I was moving to Canada, people made a lot of cracks about America and 'getting out' and other silly political slashes that I'm sure we've all heard from time to time. I'm sure in my day that I've made some as well. When I got to Canada and started interacting with Canadians and other citizens of the world, I started hearing a lot of opinions about America, our ways, our culture, etc. And I think I've slowly started becoming more patriotic. As a result, I've decided to take hold of my future and exercise my voice as a member of the next important generation.

What I'm getting at is that you don't realize how much your country means to you until you step away. If I was never very patriotic for 24 years then I'll start now. Because, no matter who you are, we are in this together, as a country. We stand together to remember and we stand together to survive. If we don't stand together, we will fall apart. 

To those who lost their lives 11 years ago and to all of those who have lost them since: I appreciate what you gave up for a country who's still trying to find it's feet. We will make you proud.