Moving On

Hello Lovelies!

I have returned. 

(Do y'all like the new theme? Still not sure if I'm happy with it. Be prepared; it may change. Ten points if you can name where the background image is from)

I am officially done high school. Forever and ever. Amen. That was exhausting.

And I got early acceptance to one of my back up Universities.

And yesterday I got an interview to one of my first choice Universities AND I got accepted to a 5 month school I'm doing from March to July this year. 

And I only have 33 more days before I officially move out. Like out of my house. To do.... adultly things. 

Wow, that sounded much more inappropriate than I meant it too.

A month. That's really soon.

I'm excited and slightly terrified. But mostly excited. 

Eep. 

I'm just looking back at posts like Looking for a House in Neverland and realizing how far I've come. I'm an adult now. Like a legit, proper, legal, age of majority in Canada adult. 

Wow.

Nothing Happened

Nothing happened.

I hate this phrase so much.

It’s just so full of hidden meaning, things that aren’t out in the open. Because if you have to clarify that “nothing happened”, it means that someone was expecting something to happen. And there’s so much that actually happens behind a “nothing happened”.

He stares at you, makes you uncomfortable. He leers and you wish you could escape, run from his gaze. He chuckles and you feel uncomfortable. You point him out to someone, and they look over.

“Did he do anything besides stare?”

“No, nothing actually happened.”

You’ve been fighting so much. Tonight was going to be the night that you guys made up, became friends again. You miss her, you guys haven’t talked in ages. But she ignores you, doesn’t look at you. Someone says she doesn’t want to talk to you.

“What happened? Did you guys make up? Are you guys okay now?”

“No. Nothing happened.”

Your parents are fighting all the time. They scream and yell at each other. The house is always full of tension, underlying currents of acid stream through the atmosphere. You tell your friends about how nasty things are at home.

“Does he hit her? Are they getting a divorce?”

“No, nothing really happened. They’re just fighting.”

You like him. You think he likes you. Everyone thinks you two would work great together. Every time you guys hang out there’s so much not being said, so much that is lying just beneath the surface. Every time your eyes meet, it’s charged. Your banter borders on something that’s not “just friends”. People wait with baited breath, waiting for something to happen between the two of you. But you and he grow apart; you stop talking.

“Did anything ever happen between you?”

“No, nothing happened.”

I hate “nothing happened.” Because something always happens.

Sweater Weather's Over

   

   You're like that old sweater at the back of my closet. You know, the type that's all fuzzy and warm when I first buy it. Trying it on in the store is like a dream. Buying it is exciting and I look forward to wearing it in the fall. Holding a mug of tea, watching the leaves turn brown.

     I wear it lots. It goes with everything. My jeans, my leggings, every pair of shoes I own. It sees the rain, the sun, the windy, everything. And I wonder how a sweater could ever be so perfect.

     But then one day, it comes out of the wash and as I put it on, it scratches my arm. Not a lot, but enough that I'm aware of it. Two washes later and I can't wear it without wearing a shirt underneath. And I realize just how blistering hot it is. The weather gets colder and I begin to wonder just what I saw in that sweater.

     Soon you're not even in my set of drawers. No, you've been banished to the closet and occasionally, whilst digging for something, I'll see you and put you on. Just for a little while. And I remember why it was I put you in the back of my closet in the first place. You've got a hole in your sleeve. I'm pretty sure that blotch is actually a stain. And you're so itchy and scratchy that you poke through every shirt I wear you with.

     Now you just sit there. I know I should probably get rid of you. You've been in the back for ages and you're doing nothing but collecting dust. But sometimes, I miss the comfort and the warmth and I long for the days when you didn't scratch my arms, or make me overheat, or rip so easily.

     And one day, I decide that I am tired of you taking up room in my closet. So sick of it that I decide you have to go. The sun is shining, the flowers are beginning to sprout and all you do is remind me of the cold winter. So I take a pair of scissors and go out to the backyard and cut you up until you are nothing but little strings.

     Birds and squirrels collect the pieces. Some get carried away in the wind and every once in a while when I take a walk, I can see bits of your string in the nests in the trees. And it makes me smile. Just a little. The sort of smile that just has a little hint of sadness. But just a bit. After all, I think to myself, it was time for the sweater to go.

We Made It

School. Co-op. Drama. Tears. Laughter. Late night bonfires. Exams. Parents. Stressing over the little things. Fighting. Games. Movies.

High school.

Guys, we made it.

We made it through what people say are some of the hardest years of our lives.

We made it.

We made it through the exams. The pressures. The seemingly constant drama.

And I'm so proud of you both.

I'm proud and honoured to have been your friends. To watch you grow and turn into awesome people. To get to know you as you changed and grew. You're both amazing. You're both gifted in different ways. You're both kind and I'm so happy to have had you both in my life.

And I'm excited to see what's in store for you next. Whether you're off to a different country or just to a different city, I have no doubt you're going to have an impact.

We have our lives ahead of us, like a blank slate, like a winding road, like a clear blue sky. Let's go do something with it. Let's go make something of ourselves. Let's go make a difference. Let's be the best we can be.

I'll miss you both. I'll miss seeing you at Co-op and having the ability to get together so easily. And I hope that this isn't the end of our friendship, but just another step of the journey.

Good luck in the future. Go live an amazing life.

Remember Me

    Arthur Williams walked with a limp. It was one filled with pain and the weight of war. Yet, for all of the sorrow in his life, he was not sad. His cane hit the hospital floor and he smiled as he passed the visitor’s desk. One of the secretaries smiled back.

     “Did you see that?” She asked the nurse who was filing something. Arthur Williams had been a regular visitor of the hospital ever since his wife had been admitted with Alzheimer’s a year ago. The staff couldn’t believe his unwavering loyalty, his undying persistence; his powerful love. He visited every day. They’d been married over forty years, he would tell them; it’s not the end. They would smile, but deep down they knew, the end was coming.

    The nurse nodded sadly and they both watched as Arthur Williams knocked on door 213.

     Inside, he walked over to the white bed with a large smile on his face. It faded gradually when he noticed the monitors beside her. He hated seeing them. They always meant that his wife wasn’t happy. Looking down at the cloth draped across her forehead, he saw the beads of sweat rolling down her face. A fever.

     “Is that what I think it is?” He asked sadly. A fever was a sign. There’d be more hallucinations today. More fear. She wouldn’t remember. Slowly, he reached for the cloth.

     “Don’t touch it!” She cried shakily, lifting her hand to stop his. He moved his hand and rested it on her cheek, stroking it softly. She was burning. He shut his eyes sadly, trying to reel back his tears. The hallucinations were getting closer together. Soon, she wouldn’t remember at all.

     “So warm,” he muttered. Any second now, she wouldn’t remember him. She’d look at him with those beautiful, blue eyes and they’d be empty. He prayed that it wouldn’t be today. He prayed that he’d have just one day with her. Holding her close, he prayed with all his might.

     For about five minutes, they sat embraced on her bed. It seemed like everything would be all right. Then she started to shudder. He pulled away and she looked at him with wide eyes. Empty eyes. Shoving him away, she began to sob. Then scream. The nurses came rushing in.

     “I don’t know where I am,” she cried. The nurses tried to reassure her. She was in the hospital; she was safe. Their cries fell on deaf ears. Only Arthur’s voice made it’s way through the chorus. It told her she would be all right, she would make it through; she was loved.

     An hour later and he was sitting on her bed again. She had calmed down. She was all right. And most importantly, she remembered.

     “You never believe me,” Arthur Williams said with a smile as he embraced his wife.

     She looked up at him, her eyes filled with happiness. That was her husband. Love. She was okay. Peace.

(A/N: This was a school assignment that I did this past semester. The assignment was to create a story and the only lines of dialogue we could use were the ones in my story and they had to be in that order. My Grandfather died of Alzheimer's, so this is kind of a hard story for me, but I did want to post it.)

The Box People

Her manicured fingertips toyed with the box people he had loved. They had created them together last summer one sticky day, she the tall one, and he the little one. Then a gun. They said it was over quickly. For him. Her tears hit the cardboard heads; sobs hit his bare walls.

“You’re a pretty cool sister.”

She smiled.

“Thanks. You know, you’re pretty cool too.”

People said once he became a teenager, he would grow distance. She’d never be able to find out.

She knew she had to move on. Guitars, posters and figurines had all made their way into the garage sale pile. Not these boxes. She couldn’t just let them go to a stranger.

Leaving the house, she went to his music school, past the brick wall to where his hidden spot was. He was the only one who knew that there were remnants of a paved walkway beyond the elderberry bushes.

Carefully, she placed the little people down on a pavement stone, their little arms touching, as if holding hands.

“We’ll always have each other, right?”

She grabbed his hand.

“Of course, bud.”

She stood up and left, her hand empty.

Depths of Despair

Hello Lovelies,

My heart is in the depths of despair, truly broken.

Jonathan Crombie passed away four days ago on April 15 and my heart has broken.

     For anyone who's followed my blog for a long time knows that I love Anne of Green Gables, the book and the movie. Despite my mother's vehement protests, it is my belief that Jonathan Crombie was the best Gilbert Blythe ever.

     I fell in love with him in the books and then again in the movies. The boyish grin. The kind sensitivity. The playful teasing. The curly hair. As melancholic as it sounds, a piece of my heart will always lie with the boy with the "curly brown hair, roguish hazel eyes, and a mouth twisted into a teasing smile".

     "A world without any Gilbert in it! Anne repeated the words drearily. Would it not be a very lonely, forlorn place?"

     Yes Anne, I'm afraid it will be. But he will forever live on in our hearts, in our books and on our screens as we watch you both fall in love time and time again.

     Rest in peace Jonathan Crombie. You were amazing.

A Rant on Playerish People

Hello Lovelies,

It's been a bit since I've done a rant and I definitely have something to rant on. Just allow me to get my giant megaphone and the rocks I intend to throw...

Alright, so, for people who've been following me for a bit know that I am not really someone who's good around guys. Particularly guys who could have any sort of interest in me, or guys I might potentially have an interest in (see 50 Shades of Awkward or Secretly, I'm Anna for perfect examples of this). So it should come as no surprise that around players, I'm fairly clueless. Then when I reailze what's happening, I get rather frustrated. Yes, this rant is inspired by a specific person.

First, why? Why the heck do you guys have the need to make others uncomfortable in this arena? Any interest girls end up having in you is going to be based on absolutely nothing but your slimy, charming, manipulative ways. And then as soon as you "win", you're going to lose, because she's gonna see what a knotty-pated canker-blossom you are. Or you're going to break her heart when she realizes you're using her.

Second, why is it attractive to some people to play people that they know well? You know the hot buttons and what's going to get them riled up. It's no challenge. You can have them wrapped around your finger in a minute. So why do you feel the need? Is it because you feel you've lost your touch, so you go to someone you can easily get a reaction from? I don't get it. I'd would have thought players would want to pick someone who'd be a challenge, someone who they'd have to work at to get a response from.

Third, generally now, do people realize how dehumanizing this is? Playing someone? The very name of it is horrible. You are literally playing someone like a game. Like they mean the same to you as a game of cards that you're trying to win. That's it. The only thing you're using them for is your own benefit. Do you not see how harmful this can be to the other person? You don't actually care about them, because if you did, you wouldn't be treating them like this, with no regard for their emotions. You're wrapping their feelings up in a big knot and then handing it back to them with a smirk, a wink and the shallow satisfaction of knowing that you've got them riled up.

Fourth, specifically to this person, why do you think that I'm not going to notice? Yeah, you're subtle and can deny it. Yeah, you're good at what you do, but I can count them number of girls you've done this to in the past. I've watched you. I've seen what you do and how you coax the blushing and giggles from them. Do you really think I'm not going to see? I'll hand it to you, you're good. Yeah, you've managed to get a reaction, but the smirks and charm and flirting has conjured nothing but a surface response. Somehow, unbeknownst to me, you manage to get the blushing and stammering from me, but believe me when I say, this whole thing has done nothing but secure your position as an insecure, unfeeling guy in my mind. Slowly, you're being replaced by Joey Donner. Congrats to you.

In conclusion, don't play with people or they will rant about you on their blog and then dream about ways of dumping all the discomfort, annoying heart palpitations and frustration over your head.

Being the Change

Hello Lovelies,

"Be the change that you wish to see in the world."

I heard this quote about four years ago at an evening seminar down at the University of Toronto and it's kind of stuck with me. I've thought about it numerous times. What does it really mean? Does it mean that you should work hard to change others, thus being the actual change? Does it mean you should be speaking about change, informing others? Does it mean that you should always be changing? There's lots of change going on in my mind when I think about this quote.

Nope. I've realized that, at least for me, it's less about the actual change. It's about the example you set. The leadership skills you present. The chances you choose to take and the things you stand for. It's what you do, not what you change. This quote is about leading by example.

And this is something that's really challenged me over the past while. I have (according to some people I know) high moral standards. Intense ideals for how I want the world to be. But I've had to ask myself recently, how many of these ideals am I following? Yeah, I can write an essay about what Utopia is to me and then comment and judge others for not living that way. But should I be?

No. This quote is saying to take that ideal world that you have in your head: that perfect society or way you wish everyone behave and embody that. Become the change. Become the thing that's different. Choose to live the way you're always wishing others did.

Yeah, you and I may be the odd ones out. I'm known as the "good girl" in so many areas because I speak out about what I believe is right and what I think isn't. I've been shunned by different groups of people because my beliefs are too liberal or too conservative. But let me tell you, I've had a lot of people come up to me afterwards and say stuff like, "Thanks for that, I didn't want to say anything, but I'm glad you did," or "You know, I never really thought about it like that before".

You can cause a ripple. The world around us both hates and loves ripples. It loves them because, somehow, everyone's got an ideal world and to see someone moving to make the world a better place is encouraging. It hates them when the ripples ask them to move outside their comfort zone. Therefore, you will have people who will join you in your rippling and others who will try to stop you.

Can I encourage you to try and make a ripple? It doesn't have to be a big one. I'm not asking you to donate your savings to charity or go on a community service trip to Africa for a year. I'm not even looking for you to stand up in front of your school and talk to them about an issue you see. Hold the door open for someone. Buy the person behind you in the drive-thru's lunch. Smile at a stranger. Compliment someone you don't usually talk to. Ask your friends to stop when they start making fun of that kid. You might not see a change after a day or two or even a week. But the ripples will start.

I challenge you. This week, make three ripples a day. I'll do it too. Make a ripple. Be the odd one out.

Be the change.

10 Things I Know To Be True

Truth.

What is truth?

It is the little pieces of life

That people try to make sense of

By stringing them together into sentences.

Here are my ten little pieces of life,

Ten things I know to be true.

Each day is a new slate.

No matter how badly

I’ve made a mess of things,

The sun will continue to rise,

And fall

And rise

And fall

In a never-ending circle.

Every day I will wake

To the dawn of a new day

And say,

“Today is another chance.”

Joy is not hard to find.

It lies in the nooks and crannies of

Everyday life.

A comfy sweater.

A hot cup of tea.

The sound of rain

Hitting your window

As you drift off to sleep.

A box of chocolates.

Flannel shirts.

Music flowing through your headphones,

Drowning out the sounds of sorrow,

Hatred,

Anger,

Confusion,

That surrounds us everyday.

I am not a plumber,

Mechanic

Or repairman

Of people’s hearts.

I cannot carry everyone’s problems,

I still fall trying to carry my own.

I can try for a while,

Run the mile,

Sprint across the distance,

But I will fall

And drop all of those delicate problems

You gave me to mend.

I’d rather lend an ear,

Because,

Tell me,

As a friend,

How can I lend a hand if

Mine are full,

Carrying the weight of the world.

Life is a fire.

It rages and it roars.

It is beautiful,

Wonderful,

But sometimes you get burned.

And it hurts

And you sit,

Running your hand under the water,

Determined to never let it touch you again.

Let me tell you,

I’d rather see the wonder,

Experience the love,

Move with the flames

And get burned sometimes,

Than live a life full of

Cold,

Dark,

Dead,

Coal.

I am me.

I’m no one else.

I’m not the person you wish you were,

The chance you have to make things right

Or a perfect girl.

I’d say I’m sorry that you don’t like me,

But the truth is

I don’t really care,

If you think my clothing is stupid,

My music taste is weird

Or that I don’t act like you.
I don’t mean to be rude,

But I’m me,

Not you.

And I like me

The way I am.

People aren’t perfect,

They say things they don’t mean

And mean things they don’t say.

They will knock you down

And cut your heart

With sharp words that threaten

To keep you up at night.

But I am a person too.

And if I want you to

Love me,

Understand me,

And forgive me,

Shouldn’t I give you that right too?

Grace is a two way street.

Life is not a photograph,

It is a series of pictures,

A stop motion movie,

Of our past,

Present

And future.

Don’t live in the past

But occasionally visit when you despair,

Just to see how far you’ve have come

From that last moment that knocked you down.

The present is a gift,

So make the most of every moment,

Flow with life’s river,

Dance with its music

And remember those moments

When you feel like there is no hope.

Look to the future

With rose tainted binoculars

And a heart that is open

To encounter the wonders

That could,

Should,

Would lie there,

If you only dared to dream.

Don’t take life too seriously,

Because it really is a funny thing.

We have Robin William movies

And billions and billions of people

With good senses of humor.

Life isn’t always in our control

And sometimes things get out of control,

And we’re left in the river without a boat,

But there is hope,

If you’d just learn to enjoy swimming.

Life throws you punches,

But don’t stop

Or drop,

Just roll with them.

Throw in a little rock

And you might have a pop song,

Ready to top the radio charts,

Telling people how to

Get along with life.

If you’d like to go crazy

By all means,

Analyze every little incident

Until you’re blue in the face.

Assign ridiculous meanings

To every word,

Every glance,

And at every chance,

Tell people their motives,

Because they probably didn’t even know

That they had them.

Lastly, math is from hell.

Its numbers twist

And confuse you

Until you’re certain

That two plus two

Must equal five.

And frustrate you

Beyond the point of no return,

Where your brain explodes,

From trying to cram numbers,

Into places that are meant for

Song lyrics

And movie trivia.

And you wonder

If your brain

Will ever recover

From the evilness

That was placed there.