All in All

Now, with 2.633 hours of perspective, I feel that I am better able to do 2010 justice. Yes, there was a lot of school. A lot. But there was also so much more.

Much of it is in the dark (which led to such a mundane list yesterday), but the things that shine through are worth noting.

I ate a lot of instant noodles, be it in the form of soup, KD, or chow mien.

I lived in another basement, with very different people from last time. It held some of the best times, but I wouldn't go back.

I went on two roadtrips. One ended prematurely in Jasper, leaving us stranded and cold and hungry and alive. The other brought me through five states and five thousand kilometers in three days, and left me crying and praying and breathing again.

I checked, there were two car accidents this year. January and November. After January and the two roadtrips this year and one last year, November finally did in Cameron. Poor Cameron.

I had my heart broken enough to need several transplant surgeries, and then I broke my own.

I had front row seats to the demise of my personal civilization; everything I worked for, gone.

I have had the most wonderful year of seeing the most wonderful man. Please don't read too much into that.

I watched six seasons of Gilmore Girls (fourth time through) in less than two months, and watched countless other series from my bed, the smoker's couch, my creaky chair and my good chair. Oh the days.

I went to Toronto and made it back alive, despite many desperate phone calls, skype dates and tearful outbursts, which, at the time, suggested I would not be so lucky.

I fell in love with God again. Even without feeling Him. Then I lost it again. I am going to get it back again.

Heh. Right. I also survived. It is 2011 and I am still here.

Sweet Means Bad Butt...Poor Naked Guy, He should have Left His Clothes On

So, my life.

How do I stop the whirlwind?

I cannot.

Everyone is gone. I really should be, too.

And I am tired. I am so tired.

ENOUGH!!

I need to be pro-active instead of passive.

Things I will do over Christmas break:

1. Read some of Gone with the Wind.
2. Go home today (Monday).
3. Do some writing.
4. Play piano.
5. Go to bed before 1AM.
6. Wake up before 12PM.
7. Eat lots of baking.
8. Do my physio work-outs.
9. Stay in contact with the people I want to, and let go of the obligation for everyone else. I will see them soon anyways.
10. Celebrate the half-way mark.

Yes I realize that for the most part these are rather ambiguous and it will probably be unclear whether or not I have actually accomplished what I set out to do, but I need goals! I don't care if they're MAP or SMART or whatever else they're "supposed to be," they will stop me from going crazy because I will have something to aim for and they will stop me from freaking out if I fail because I was not exactly specific to begin with.

Last additions:

1. I will take the things given to me by doctors.
2. I will read my Bible every day.
3. I will do things I want to do without apologies.
4. I will enjoy Christmas.
5. And I guess I will finish my papers.

Okay. I am going to make it.

That's What She Said

I don't have time for this. Right now, I have a million and one things to be doing, including spending time with God; I'm half way through a sentence in 2 Chronicles, and I couldn't read one more word until I wrote. I'm busier than I've ever been in my life and, from what I hear, this is not the end of the craziness. This is the beginning. My full-time internship has turned into my entire life. The few minutes I have to myself have been spent watching Gilmore Girls or doing things I probably shouldn't be doing. My choices have been poor, and I have not been the wise woman I thought I was growing up to be.

My mom and I finally finished Gilmore Girls, and I cried. Of course. In my head it will always end differently, because I'm afraid of relating to a TV show that much.

I haven't written in so long. Mostly I don't have the time; I don't even go on facebook anymore because I only have a few seconds to check and see if there's anything I need to immediately respond to. This is my official apology to those who I've ousted through that. Despite the excuse of my lack of time, I think my neglect of this blog has deeper roots. Maybe, deep down, I want people to stop reading it. The people I once wrote it for don't exist anymore; I am not the same, and they are not the same. I am frightened of everything this could mean.

I've been messing up lately. I am a rebel at heart, and everything in me is always fighting against what I know I could be. I'm horribly frightened of success, and I don't know how to change that.

This is a rant, a confession, an admonition. I miss who I used to be. I miss the plans and the simple trust I had in God, others and myself. I can't go back, the present is not what I thought, and tomorrow is scarier than I thought it would be.

And I will never have an avocado tree.

Pining Suits Me About as Well as Oaking, Hemlocking or Aldering

Ah, Gilmore Girls, and everything you always teach me. Just when I think I can handle the world on my own, you step in and save the day. Just when I begin to imagine that I am encountering a situation you have not, you prove me wrong yet again. And just when I believe I am all alone and no one understands, you come through for me.

Since approximately 25 days ago, my mom and I have devoured three seasons. Tonight was the finale, and anyone who knows anything knows what the season three finale means. It's what we all knew would happen, deep down, but we always wished we could keep at bay. Even now, on my third time through, I still hope that my fruitless yearning for things to remain the same will prevail. But of course, every time, I am hopelessly disappointed...even though I knew it was coming all along.

Last night I dreamt about packing up at school and leaving...again. I woke up sad and nostalgic and feeling like I'll never quite be able to let go of this year, despite my most ardent efforts. I'm trying, I promise. Every morning I remind myself that there is no going back and that dwelling in the past will only hurt me more in the long run and waste this summer. So what in the world am I doing blogging about things I can't change?

Well, here's the thing. I'm hopelessly addicted to pining (pining, as in holding onto the past, not pinning...being addicted to safety-pinning things together would only lead to people further questioning my sanity). I love to waste away the days remembering, but it only damages my heart. That's why I never scrapbook; I mean well and I try, but I always get caught up and need to stop.

Rory said it best: "I'm not going to pine over you. You didn't think I would, did you? Because I'm not. I'm moving on and that's it." She is a lot braver than I am. but I'm going to steal a little bit of that courage and stifle how difficult this is.

I am not pining over you. Any of you. Not over this year, not over friendships or relationships or roadtrips or timmies trips or anything else. I loved it, I'll always miss it, but that is where it stops. I'm so sick of being heartsick and it stops here.

That felt really good to say.

Feeling the Pressure

Being stressed is one of my favourite states. I thoroughly enjoy having less than adequate time to accomplish something to the best of my ability. For example, right now I have six papers due next week, 120 chapters of the Bible to read and an assignment due Monday, as well as several other assignments and readings to be completed throughout the week. And then it's exams.

I, however, am not the least bit phased. As much as I know I shouldn't be blogging right now, I also am well aware that this state of confusion perfectly conditions my body to get the most done in the least amount of time. After this, I probably won't stop working on homework except to eat, but all the time in the last few weeks spent watching Gilmore Girls and doing things that are less than important have been well worth it. I wouldn't go back and change anything even if I could.

I'm going to cut today's blog short. I only partook in today's writing because I've so missed vomiting my thoughts in a slightly productive, if not marks-worthy, way.

The Biggest Convo of Life

It's not too often that something pops into my head worth putting down on paper, but what comes out of my mouth is often of far more use. Too many in the past have suggested that certain forms of mental activity are considered symptoms of psychosis, as well as a danger to the rest of the world. I, on the other hand, would argue that this specific "line of work" is actually to the benefit of all, especially my roommate. I am referring to...talking to myself!

I'm sure we've all done it at some point. You know that crazy guy who always sits across from you on the skytrain, muttering about the birds and what will happen when they realize their own intelligence, as he spits into an old tuque? As much as we want to sit around and judge him, we've all been in the same place at some point. Picture this: you're in Aeropostale trying on a sweater, and you know you're meeting your sweetie in exactly 47 minutes for THE BIG CONVERSATION (dun dun dun). Will he want to continue the way things are going? Move forward? Take a step back? Break up altogether?! But then you breathe and remember, "Oh yeah, I still have 46 and a half minutes to get this perfect." And so you begin. "Well, you see, Petie, I've been doing a lot of thinking lately," (throw in the hair twirl) "and the thing is..." (loooong, dramatic pause) "...I care about you way more than my dumb words could ever say! In fact, I don't know how I'd ever go on living if you decided to just leave me here like this!" (Enter my good friend, Mr. Desperation) "I need you Petie! Not just for now, but for forever!" (Here come the waterworks) "Don't l-l-leave m-m-me like this!" (And cue frustration). "No no no! Dumb me! DUMB ME! Because THAT won't scare him away! Gosh, WHY DO I HAVE TO BE SO DUMB?!" And it's in that moment that you realize you're no longer having a fanciful monologue in your head, but are in fact screaming out your hopes and dreams of a life with Petie to the entire store. We've all been there. Or, at least, that's been my experience.

So what led to this onslaught of horribly thought out blabberings directed at my defenseless keyboard? As I was sitting on fb (facebook, for the under-informed) and desperately seeking out the meaning of life through no-thought-required wall posts and less than satisfactory chat conversations, I realized that for the last hour I had been laying on an assault of mind-blowing proportion. My roomie (her name is Stephanie, you will come to know her very well) was lying on the floor, completely helpless, as she was mercilessly exposed to the inner workings of my mind via talking to myself. And it's not enough that I just let slip out whatever first comes to mind. No, of course not. I'm far too obnoxious for that. I'm also the kind of person who sits on her laptop, headphones in with the rest of the world tuned out, watching Gilmore Girls and laughing and giggling like crazy...while other people sit in the room and have no clue what has brought on my newest psychotic episode (sidenote: I have a horribly ridiculous laugh that makes you wonder if I'm choking, hyperventilating, or just never learned how to laugh at all. But this will all be covered in more detail at a later date).

So, in summary, I probably do have mental issues. However, the most important part of the entire talking-to-myself process is learning to be ok with myself...no matter what comes through my scattered, mess of a head and out my mouth.