Freya Lately.

Lately has been a blur of unknown, of confusion. I've had a headache that has plagued me for days. Maybe a tension headache. Maybe a future headache.

If I lay here, if I just lay here...

Everything seems a bit misplaced at the moment. I can't seem to find that sock, my belt, where I left my pen. My brain has obviously taken a vacation. I sit at work, staring into space, wondering where I left off. I forget things, postpone things, shy away from things. This isn't quite like me.

Understandably, it's that time for change again. To dig up my delicate roots just as they've started grasping their surroundings. I feel like a banana, my bruises are starting to show as my soft insides weaken. 

Nothing tastes right and for the first time in a long time, food isn't interesting. I don't know what's fueling my body, keeping me going, but it seems to be enough for now. 


As the sun comes out more, I find I'm going deeper into myself. I think I'll come out when I feel better. 

I pull myself from my dreams each morning, vivid dreams, complicated dreams. Find that I'm nestled between pillow upon pillow and under blanket upon blanket. Digging yourself from dreams is difficult when you don't want to come back. Perpetually tired, yawning, sleepy. Perpetually blue, gray, white, black. Trying to scrape the sleep away.

But there are moments that are like lightening striking the cloud away. There is a moment of motivation, of creativity. But it's bogged down again, by time and prior commitments. I long for a quiet place with nothing more then a soft bed, decent coffee maker, white curtains and my old typewriter [which is sadly locked up solitary]. I miss the familiar hammering of the keys and the small winning dig from a finished line of words.

Small wins. I'm counting them, like stars at night or alarms to wake up rather then sheep to fall asleep. I'm counting small wins on one hand, using the other to stabilize. Baby steps and small wins. 

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.

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.

Just Some Things

Lately I've been feeling like I can't string more then one thought together for long enough to write a whole post about it. But I still want to get all these thoughts and feelings out of my brain so, like some bloggers do "Letter" posts, I'm just going to bullet point like 5 things that I've wanted to write about but can't focus on long enough to finish.

This morning's coffee.

Happy Saturday, btw. 10 days till vacation!!!

1. I've been feeling a lot more socially fulfilled lately, which is ironic because this week I've stopped working at my internship and that was like half of my social time. Then I was sitting at my desk at the studio this morning talking to my director and two of the older dancers and it struck me. I hang out with more people age 10-16 then I do my own age. It's time to start hanging out with people my own age.

2. I realize that I go home in 10 days. That's incredible! I'm so so excited but also a bit sad. That means another year has gone by that I've been creating this other life in which I'm not totally comfortable with. I think I need the little switch in my brain to click so I realize that this is a good thing, that I really do, deep down, love what I'm doing and where I am. I think I'm still clinging to the hope that everything will go back to normal. But I don't want it to, I like traveling and living in interesting places and seeing things and meeting new people. Dear brain, please get it through you!!

3. I've been enjoying running more. I ran for the first time outside yesterday and it was really really hard! But I liked it because I felt like I was making progress because I could see where my run ends and could give it actual distance. I've also spent the past few days looking at pictures of myself in 2011 when I lost a ton of weight. I was so confident and happy. I want that back. I want to look in the mirror and like what I see, not make excuses for what I see.

I have a goal. I'm giving myself till June to get myself back to where I want to be. That's a long time, I know, but I have a vacation planned for Vegas and I want to be able to walk around in shorts and a bikini and feel okay with it. I'm starting now. Wish me luck!

Christmas tree in my building.

4. I've had this whole f-ing fiasco with TMobile to deal with this week and it's actually really stressed me out. Long story short, I got sent to collections A. for an OBSCURE amount of money and B. when I shouldn't have (typical, right?) Since I've been dealing with it I suddenly realize just how my actions impact my life (which sounds ridiculous). Jake pointed out that if I let it go, it'll effect my credit and thus possibly effect any future purchases that rely on credit. Then I had a small panic attack about my future. Man, am I irrational or what? Wish me luck disputing TMobile from not only another country but another time zone! SO fun!

5. On my quest to better myself, I've successfully stopped biting my nails! They aren't very long yet but they're getting there, slowly. This is a HUGE deal for me. I've been biting my nails I think since before my nails started even forming (ew)! It's a nervous tick I think. But I decided that I was nice hands for Christmas and New Years pictures. Plus, having nice nails always has a way of making me feel more girlie!

What has everyone else been up to? Anything you want to get off your chest? I'm all ears!

Can I Help You??

Something I would like to know is who invented customer service.

I'm sitting here at my desk, minding my own business and doing my work. I talk politely to people, not because I have to but because it's in my nature. I smile and make jokes because I'm nice. But then in flies Hurricane Bitch over here who decides it's okay to be rude and raise her voice and look down at me (well, she looks down at me because she's standing and I'm sitting but it really adds to the effect of anger!).

I guess there was something wrong with her account that she was pissed off about and decided to some take it out on me. Now this would be all fine and legit if I was the one who caused the problem but I'm not. And let's face it, everyone knows I don't actually make any of the rules or regulations, I just get the wonderful job of enforcing them.

My Life.

After she left, the heat started to leave my cheeks and my heart stopped racing. And as I sat here, letting the waves calm if you will, I started thinking about customer service. Who in the hell invented that position? In many cases, people who work customers service are normal, nice people who face the same trials and tribulations as everyone else but because they answer phones, greet you at a table, answer your questions and are generally the face of many businesses and corporations, they get treated like shit. But why is that?

Let's be real: I'm a nice person. I like making people smile. I like helping people out. Generally, I get off on making someone else happy (sorry for being vulgar, it just fit). So why should I sit here, when I do my job and I do my job well, just to be yelled at by someone who isn't happy about something that has nothing to do with me? Because somehow, customer service has developed to be this way over time.

When I started waitressing, I started thinking more and more about how I treat customer service type people. When I have to call about a bill or am taking an item back to the store or have to talk to people in general really, I think about how I would feel to be yelled at. It's not very fun, actually. I understand that sometimes you do get a bitch for a server or that the person at T Mobile really is an idiot but do your karma a favor, go into the situation thinking about someone else's feelings for a change, it may help you out in the future.

That or try being a waitress for a while. Either you'll start seeing the other side of it or your heart will freeze over and you'll join the ranks of the rude, inconsiderate bitch army that populate most of the world.

If you couldn't tell, I feel strongly about this issue. But I'm being serious. Just be nice to people, it makes you smile more, it makes other people smile more, it makes the world a better place, people.

Things I Now Know About Myself

For someone who is usually semi reluctant to change, I find myself at a cross roads more often then not these days. Something in my life is always a-changin’.

Next week, my internship at Post City Magazines is over. I’m having a lot of mixed feelings on the topic. As my first real experience with a publication, I think it was a pretty successful one. Not only have I been able to grow my portfolio like I wanted, but I’ve learned a lot about writing, working at a publication and myself.

Writing: When I left college, I was convinced that news writing wasn’t for me, that I wanted to write long, witty, flowery stories and spend weeks and week working on one piece. While I think a part of me still feels this way, I think I want to try out news writing again. After spending a few months of food writing and writing reviews and trying to be witty everyday, I think I need to try straight forward news. While I enjoy painting a picture and developing a story, like in creative writing, I’m no good at it when I have to talk about a subject.

Working at a publication: Jake and I have almost always butt heads about working environments. When we lived in Toronto, he created this really cool desk/office area so us in our bedroom. He spent more time there then I did, honestly, so I didn’t make any fuss over how it would be, but I learned something crazy about myself. I need creative clutter. I have to have a space that is comfy, with pictures and color and noise (both audible and visual). Jake needs to have everything in order, clean, organized and quiet. This was just reaffirmed with me when I started at the magazine. Nothing against the office, but it was too quite for me. I felt like I couldn’t work right in that environment. Eventually, I did get used to it, actually. But I still had to at least listen to music all day.

Myself: I think I learned the most about myself during the process. I learned that I hate mornings without coffee even more when I actually have work to do. I learned that I like coming up with story ideas, even though I rarely shared any, it was fun to see what I came up with compared to what other writers came up with. I learned that I work best while chewing gum and multitasking (meaning I usually have 4 or more tabs open on the Internet browser and am constantly reading, reading,reading). I learned that every hour or so, I need to take a short break, get some water and have a quick chat with either someone around me or someone online.

 

You learn a lot about yourself when you’re put into a situation that you’re usually not familiar with. I’ve never worked in an office environment before, so it was interesting realizing the different things I’m okay with and what I’m not okay with. I def wouldn’t trade this experience for anything in the book, for a first internship it went really well. I’m excited to move forward, to try out new things and to see where else I can go.

 

But in all honesty, I’m excited to sleep the F in from now on!   

City Scape.

The rhythmic sway of the streetcar has become soothing. Sitting next to strangers isn't uncomfortable anymore. Only the shrieking and squealing of metal on metal can wake me from the day dream I'm in.  

"Next Stop: Soho Street." The familiar bell tolls for Soho Street and I maneuver around the crowed streetcar to get to the back doors. After coming to a shuddering stop, the doors swing open and it's out into the crisp air I go.

It's day like these in which I love this city. It's a cold day, the sun shining through the clearing clouds and fog. The sounds are tangible. The clacking of heels fades the further away from Queen Street I walk. The bangs, pangs and booms get louder as I approach a construction zone. It's like Toronto is a continuously growing organism. 

Beep-beep-beep of a reversing dump truck cuts through the air, carrying with it dust and crumbling rubble. Whistles blow as a police officer directs traffic around the dump truck. The ground rumbles as the truck pulls away, taking dirt and concrete away. The dust starts to settle, orange vests with orange heads sit along a broken wall, smoking cheap cigarettes and holding dirty coffee mugs. 

The smells of the city are a map all in themselves. City air will never be as delicious as country air, that's a fact, but it is still something to relish in. The smell of people, productivity, growth, changes, hustle and bustle, cars, food, dirt. It's something I look forward to. Cigarette smokes intertwines the city smells, mostly as you pass a coffee shop or a bar or The Second City Training Facility. Occasionally the smell of horse manure is weasels it's way into the fabric of Toronto. They you know the horse cops have been out. The faint smell of hot dogs wafts down King Street. It must be lunch time.

Walking down a city street is like walking to a heat beat. 1, 2, 1, 2, 1, 2. You set a stride for yourself, clearing pot holes, cracks and piles of garbage on Thursday mornings. The patter of other people surrounds you, other people's personal beats help making up your own beat. Unconsciously, I find myself matching other walking beats or walking opposite to create a new beat. Every block or so, the beat changes, like the chorus of a song. As the street is chopped into segments by streetcar tracks the beat changes. One big step, two little. A step slightly left, switching back to the right. One, two, pitter, patter. 

As the wind kicks up, I near my building. Weaving through the lunch traffic while crossing Wellington, a crunch through the gravel spread across the sidewalk. I shrug my scarf closer to my ears and fish my keys out of the bottom of my purse. The honking of angry cab drivers is muted as I enter the lobby, which marble glittering in the afternoon sun. It's strange to call somewhere so fancy home, but I do.

It's weird to think that I really enjoy being somewhere other then Oregon. But I really do. This city feels new and fresh and I'm ready to try it on. 

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.

Projection.

You know when you've been through something traumatic and you start to get over those feelings. Then out of the blue, something brings those emotions right back up and you're suddenly swimming with your feelings again?

That just happened.

I just watched a group of tight friends having to say a rushed good bye to their friend who's moving away for good. They came rushing out of class to give her big hugs and they all burst into tears. I was full unaware of what was happening and why there was a gaggle of half crying teenagers in my lobby.

Then the father said their friend was moving away. For good.

It literally took all my might not to collasp in a heap of tears and throw my arms around these girls I don't know. I felt ever little pang, twinge, tear and guilt that I did when I moved away. I felt every emotion that I pushed away. Every hug I pulled away from. Every good bye I shyed away from.

See, for a person who says a lot of them, I'm horrific with good byes. I can't do it. They make me so uncomfortable with them. I'd rather blow it off and tell you over the phone. It's ridiculous.

The morning my family took me to the airport as I started my journey away from home, I smiled and hugged and said I'd be fine. Everyone handed me envelopes, letter they had written to me. I was told to read them on the plane.

But I didn't. I remember taking them out of my purse and holding them on my lap. They sat there the whole plane ride and I put them back in my purse at the end. It took me a good two weeks to read those. Then I ended up bawling.

I only read those letter once. I know exactly where they are, I just haven't read them more then once. I very much dislike the pain I feel when I think of all the loved ones I left behind. I know I'll make new friends and develop a new 'family' to not replace my family but to substitute while I'm away. It just takes time and during that time, I can't seem to bring myself to move on yet.

Scattered.

Each night, I sit down and try to write out a post. Something to get me back in the mood, in the mind set of blogging. And each night, I am stunted. I can't seem to come up with anything and I don't know why.

This is my brain on life.

Actually, I think it's because I'm being pulled so thinly. I think my brain is washed out. I'm struggling finishing this train of thought, even. This is why I'm taking a break. I just hope I can pull out of it. I have some good ideas, but I don't have the patience or down time to explore them. I don't remember the last time I was creative or woke up without an alarm.

 

Maybe because I had family visiting, maybe because work is hectic. Something is pulling me apart on the inside. I just hope I can button it all back up.

 

I'll be back, I'm sure :)

Finding Balance.

When did living become something other then doing what you need to to survive, and enjoying the rest of your time. When did it become about money, jobs and 'doing something' with your life? I'm being totally serious, too!



Balance.

I'm sitting here, Wednesday afternoon, when I should be at my internship (if anyone from the office is reading this, I'm having a moment of profound creativity and I'm rolling with it...how often does something creative actually happen naturally anyway?) and I'm worrying. I'm worrying that someone is going to be mad at me for being late, I'm worried that I'm not going to get my interview done with enough time to finish the article today. I seem to just have this deep pit of worry that I'm doing something wrong, but do I actually have something to worry about?

Then there's this other side of me, the side that gets pushed down until Saturday afternoon, when work is all done for the week and it's time to be free. This side of me wants to explore my new city (I say new yet I've been here for three months already and have explored about 1/16 of the city), explore the parts I've been too busy and broke to do. I want to get a chai latte and sit in a cafe, listening to the chatter around me and take in all the delicious smells. I want to find a park and collect turning leaves. I want to just walk, with no destination and no rush, jsut walk. But there isn't time for this. I have to work.

So I'm caught in this strange place. Somewhere between wanting to 'do something' with my life and wanting to just be in my life. Three weeks has passed and I don't even remember what the weather was like. It's so just like me to go from almost never working and being 'bored' to working so much I don't have time to look outside. 

I just don't know how to balance working and being alive. I have yet to encounter a culture where there is an equal balance. Maybe a culture like that doesn't exist in North America. maybe I need to travel somewhere in Europe or South America or Australia, where they value down time as highly as they do work time. 

I want to work to live, not live to work. And at this rate, I feel like I'm just...working. Working and not living. Not that I'm complaining, I'm very lucky to have my internship and my job, I just can't wait for the time in my life where I'm completely satisfied, doing something I love and enjoying my time. I'm taking steps towards that, with this internship I'm learning a lot about journalism, blogging and what it takes to run a magazine. I'm learning a lot about my writing style and my writing personality. I'm also learning a lot about my life choices, where I want my life to go. So don't get me wrong, I'm certainly learning. 

I'm just looking forward to knowing. Knowing what I'm good at, knowing what I can achieve. Knowing where I can draw the lines and where I have to accept any and all invitations. Knowing where my life is headed. I'm getting there, however. I just hope I find the balance. 

Profound Thoughts.

I have this unsettling feeling that this isn't going to be enough. I spend most of my moments dreaming of what's to come. While I'm content with where I am, I'm not content on what's to come.

What is to come? I don't know yet. Well then how can you not be content with something you don't know yet? Because I should plan something, shouldn't I?

I have this unsettling feeling that this isn't going to be enough, that I'm going to want more. But then, why is that an unsettling feeling? Shouldn't it be a good feeling to want more? Maybe it's only a good feeling when you can obtain more. But I can obtain more. I have to push for more, I guess.

I have recently connected with someone from the far corners of my past. We were never close friends, or really friends at all. It was a fellow classmate that spent four years in the same institution (high school) as I did. I hope I don't offend but let's be honest, I don't even remember if we talked much.

Beside the point.

I've suddenly immersed myself in her story. It's really interesting, what happens after you forget your story for a while and listen to someone else's. It feels like someone reset my brain and gave me new aspirations.

It's interesting to me to find someone who is a lot like me. Who I can relate to, even in a small way. It's even more interesting when I find someone like that who has been in my past and, back then, wasn't a part of my present. It's funny how people like that come from the woodwork every so often.

I hope this new found fire that's smouldering inside me will grow. I so badly want the child inside me to prosper. Children have profound hopes, thoughts and dreams. I want my redirected profound thoughts to be reapplied to my new found independence. I want to see where my inner child can take me.

Same Forever.

(Image: Glyn Lowe Photoworks)

I have this favorite moment of the day. Well, actually it'd be two favorite moments of the day. From my eleventh floor apartment window, we look out on a office building. It's about 5 floors taller then my window so it's literally all that can be seen. I don't mind, honestly, it provides this strange sort of privacy from the world. 

Each morning, as I am getting up much before the stroke of 6, I sit at the table or on the couch or perch on the bed and at exactly 6am, the lights come on. Floor by floor, flashing on. Like 16 or so floors of eyes, all waking up at the same time. The light is so bright, in it's collective glory, that it casts a fake sunlight into my apartment. That's when I know it's truly time to start my day.

Coincidentally, every night the lights must turn off, the eyes must close and the building must get it's rest. At 10 pm every night, the light will shut off. Floor by floor, row by row. The eyes close, signaling that it's time for bed. It's as though the world has turned off the sun, as the darkness ascends on my apartment without my neighboring false sun.   

Those are my favorite times in the day. There's something so...secure about knowing there will always come a 6 o'clock and a 10 o'clock. That there will always be a place in the world that there is a routine. That there is a place in the world that will be the same forever.  

The Girl Comes Out.

I've been wanting to get more in touch with my creative side. To dig my imagination out and use it again. I've started spending time working on creative pieces. This is a piece I wrote a few months ago. I've reworked it and gotten it to a good place. There are no pictures. I want those to be in your mind, to be what you imagine them to be.

We’re always running, her and I, through the woods and the mud. It always seems like eternity, taking the biggest steps possibly in those heavy boots. Mud, grass and hay encrusted on the edges. She wears the same white, cracked straw hat with the bow, clutches the same pink notebook with the ballet slipper on it. The pages are twice their size, swollen with water, the ink running into each other like trickling streams to a river. A copy of Moby Dick tucked into the folds of her long skirt. It’s how she always travels, her hat, her books, her skirt and her friends. I just tag along, trying to keep up.

Down in the trees, the world slips away. Looking up, the blue-gray Oregon sky peeks through leaves that are clumped together with mosses and dead sticks. Our boots sink farther into the muddy banks of the creek as she navigates the waters with her memory. Up the creek to the left, we’d have to wind our way over the tree roots, through the brambles, to the waterfall, where the waters are brown and dangerous. Wandering straight ahead, we would maneuver over the log bridge that was once a tree hanging its head over the creek. After climbing the embankment, we could turn and survey the land below, being able to see almost everything we have. Our last option is following the creek towards to bark boat.

Picking our way down a small but steep path would bring us to the biggest piece of tree bark, so large she swore to me it was once a pirate boat. The far edge is still outlined with a bit of tree hanging onto its ship, not wanting to give it away. Old bottles, tins and wilting flowers sporadically dot the small crevices and natural shelves on the boat. Its here she’ll sit and pull out her journal, probably to complete a work of fiction or an illustration.

Her hours are spent in this valley, in this cool, dark valley, where the world outside flies by. She spends her time with the friends she creates there; the fairies that live in the knots in the trees, the pixies that reside up the slope in the thick part of the forest, somewhere she cannot go alone. Winds move branches, giving the brush around her so much life.

After tying up some lose end in her novel, she ventures off into the water, not afraid of a few inches of brown muddy water when her rubber boots will save her! We pick our way up the creek, ducking under overlying tree branches and cobwebs. The air cools dramatically once we are crouched over the water. Small water bugs skim the surface of pools gathering in tree roots and embankments. She trails her hands through the water, searching for any small treasure, an old, broken bottle, or an old tin can. Anything she finds can spur another day of adventure.

As time passes and the shadows rearrange themselves on the creek floor, the light starts to fade. I find myself back at the top of the embankment, the waterfall, the boat, the fairies all in the forest below. She’s a few steps down the way, right hand on a moss-covered tree looking back up at me. Her white hat in her hand, she waves. She’s weaved a few pretty leaves into the bow on her hat, a few fall out as her hat slaps her legs. She turns and, in a few fluid motions, she’s back down in the trees, only her faint outline in the darkening night air is left.

 I feel my heart beating as I come back to life, glass of wine in my hand, panting dogs to my side, a family waiting for me to finish walking the dogs before dinner. I find myself staring into the woods, a part of my heart longing to throw it all away and run back to the world among the trees. I blink hard and take one last look for her. But she is gone now, maybe to resurface at another time. She waits for me, you know, deep in the hidden places of my mind. She’ll always be ready to take me on an adventure, to pull me out of life and back into my mind. It’s easy to lose myself for a while, to lose my childlike inspiration for life, but I know she’ll find me and bring it all flooding back.

Good News!

It's Friday! It's the end of the work week and for me the internship work week. I'm excited to share this morning that yesterday, I got a job!! 

Source.

If you are unfamiliar with moving to Canada, but you need a job to stay in the country. When I crossed the boarder back in July, they gave me till December in the country. If I didn't find a job before then, I would have to leave. So talk about pressure. I was also putting personal pressure on myself because I wanted to be able to contribute to my relationship and take some stress away from Jacob, who's been supporting me for a few months.

You can imagine my excitement when I got the e-mail yesterday that I start on Tuesday! I am the new receptionist at the Annex Dance Studio in Toronto. I have a background in dance and love everything that comes with it. I mostly excited because it'll be good hours for me and it'll help me break from the endless waitressing cycle. 

But there is one potential problem. My internship is potentially in danger. Potentially. 

As of right now, I work Monday through Friday 9-5 at my internship. With this new job, I'll need to leave my internship at 2:30 in order to arrive on time for my 3:30 start time. I talked with my assistant editor yesterday about it, mostly because I wasn't too sure how to approach the subject being still really new at the office. 

Of course, I'm really nervous going to work this morning because we're suppose to all talk about what's going to happen. So I'm in this weird mood this morning; excited because I finally have a job and worried because something that I really love is about to be in jeopardy. 

I just hope I can work something out with them. Maybe extending my internship past three months to make up the time, working on side projects, staying late on the days I don't work or coming in early. 

So keep me in your thoughts this morning as I head into work. Ah! I'm so nervous!

::THIS JUST IN: I talked with my editors and they are totally okay with the job. I just have to take a shorter lunch. WEE!:: 

Whispers.

I've always wanted to go to the places that are rarely seen. Those quiet prairies, the abandoned factories and the empty piers of the world. The places someone else forgot. 

I can only imagine what it's like there. Why are you alone? Who forgot you? I see these places and dream of what they were like before they were left. What stories do they hold, just waiting for someone to come and listen to their whispers. 

1.

2.

3.

Cheater, Cheater, Pumpkin Eater.

While doing my usual and daily internet scouring (literally 8 hours of reading, hunting, searching, reading, repeat) I came across a slew of articles about cheating. A local Toronto paper posted an article on it's blog about cheating: how to stop your husband from cheating, if you should tell your best friend that their boyfriend/husband is cheating and now the third instalment, the anti-cheating ring. 

Hot Button Issue.

Just by reading this article I can see that this little series has been a big hit. People are very sensitive when dealing with the topics of marriage, cheating and monogamy. This article suggests the use of a ring with the engraving "I'm Married" on it. The idea is that when the man takes his ring off, as I guess it's popular for them to do, the fact that he's married will still be visible. 

The question is: Would "I'm Married" really stop a man (or woman) from cheating on their spouse?

Survey says? Probs not, guys...probs not. 

As for my opinion, I believe that if you cheat on your spouse (or boyfriend or girlfriend) you obviously don't want to be in that relationship. Cut and dry. There are many arguments out there that people get bored or need something to spice up their love life and I think the solution isn't in the bed of someone else. I think if you are having a problem you should talk to your hubby about it. Damaging the relationship and shattering trust isn't the way. 

After getting my fill on crappy marriage-saving tips, another title caught my eye: Is cheating the answer to making a marriage last?  Of course I had to read it!

Hot Button Issue.

The general idea is that in some cases, having other partners can keep a marriage alive. There are some things mentioned in the article that I get too hot and bothered over to talk about without sounding preachy so you may just have to read it yourself. But I think that if you need a little love life revival, play at it. Secret, cheating and hurting isn't the answer.

What do you think about this issue? What is your view on cheating or an open relationship? 

Primadonna Girl.

Life has a funny way of revamping itself, doesn't it? I have found, since my move to Ex-Pat territory (meaning since I moved to Canada) that my life has almost completely shifted. 

I used to use my blog as a way of sharing my life, yes, but also as a way to escape my current situation. I was unhappy in New Haven, lets be real. I didn't want to bartend anymore I wanted to start a career. I wanted to feel as though I was doing something that I personally considered productive.

Then moving to Toronto, I've found a new step on my ladder! One door closed and another has opened! While I consider myself really lucky to score the internship that I did, I received an invitation to become the new intern at Post City magazine last week. I really wanted this position when I interviewed for it and am really excited that I got it!

What's the downfall of all of these big steps and changes since becoming an Ex-Pat? I haven't done much blogging! And it's breaking my heart!! I have so many great stories to share and cool new things, well new to me! So I've decided to take a week to get reorganized. I'm going to update my blog calender, get some pictures and posts ready. Stock up, if you will. Then we're on a roll!!

I want this blog to be a successful representation of my life and to get there, I need to put some work in!!

For now, here is a song/video that I can't seem to take off repeat.

My Least Favorite Place.

Alright, ladies (And and occasional gentleman who stumbles across this) lets talk about employment. Or in my case, the lack there of. 

Source.

My employment started back when I was 16. I had just got a car and was feeling very happy and full of myself. I got my first job at Coldstone, the ice cream place where you have to sing if you get tipped. I loved it. Ice cream AND singing? I couldn't be happier.

Long story short, it didn't work out in the end and I found myself back on the job market. I was feeling better because I had actually had a job before and felt like I had the upper leg on a lot of other people. Little did I know that from that moment, it would only get harder to get a job.

Now I sit here, 8 friggin years later (friggin years because I just realized how long ago that was and am suddenly feeling quite old) I'm facing unemployment again. I think it's my least favorite place to be. And I have been in some very unfavorable places before.

Throughout my history in the work force, I have held some jobs that I didn't particularly like, but I kept them because I was lucky to have a job and should be thankful (this in actually not what I was thinking at the time but...well...trying to stay positive today).

 I think I've hit my wall. I've been unemployed for about six weeks and it has been the longest six weeks of my life. I've had a few bites at my fishing line but nothing has stuck. I've trekked over an hour on the subway for an interview and haven't received anything in return. I had an interview for an unpaid internship that would have been so good for me but, 3 weeks later, I haven't heard anything. Sigh.

So, as I stare at the now-purple links to help wanted ads on Craigslist, I wonder: Am I reaching the point where I will cross my line? Now my line is the line I've drawn between the jobs I think I'm either too old or over qualified for and the jobs that I normally apply for. I have applied, talked to and reached out to everything I know here in Toronto and I'm reaching the end of my rope.

I've literally been pacing my apartment, getting angry at the TV, straightening up things that aren't messy. I go to the gym because I get bored. Just waiting for someone to take interest in me. But am I reaching the place where I'll start applying for busser positions or counter service positions? I'm not afraid to say I am usually better then that but now that I have less then half as much money in my bank account as I need to pay my bills due in 6 days, I'm losing it. 

Guys, I think I'm desperate. I've done pretty good this week staying positive. But as the weekend approaches, I'm running out of positivity. I think this is the point in my life where I have to stop and ask for help.

Have any advise on either job hunting or how to stay positive?

If You Knew Me...

I've been thinking a lot lately about what makes me...well...ME! Like what kind of person I am, what traits do I have that make me more like myself then anyone else? Then I started thinking about all the "If You Knew Me" posts I read a few weeks back from other bloggers and I've decided to use it as a way to find who I really am. So here goes!

Freshman year of college 2006.

IF YOU REALLY KNEW ME...

*you would know that I can almost never watch a movie in bed without falling asleep. Whether it's a really great movie or not, if I am horizontal, I will fall asleep. Whether it's morning, noon or night. I can't help it! I just love to sleep!

*you would know that I am morbidly obsessed with violence. Not in the participating aspects but if there's a murder in the news or a tale of a missing girl or (like recently) the James Holmes fiasco, I will research it. I will read everything there is to read about that event and I will be obsessed with it until a new one comes along. I have no idea why.

*you would know that I am so, so very against cheating, in every aspect. I just hate cheaters. I hate people who think they're allowed to cheat at anything really! Whether it on their girlfriend/boyfriend or on a test, it's just no good. I can't get over it.

*you would know I am really horrible at good byes. Which really just sucks for me because there are a lot of good byes in my life. Since I move every year, almost any time I see family or true friends, I have to say good bye again and I am so crappy at it. I'd rather like high five you and say "see ya later!" then cry all the way back to where ever I'm living then give you big hugs. I didn't cry when I moved away from all my family until three days later. I know, it's a problem.

*you would know that I have a tendency to not...call people...back...I have this weird phone phobia. I don't like talking on the phone! E-mails and texts are no probs but once I have to actually talk to you...I'd rather it be in person.