Random Channel Surfing

Every time my friends bring up Osheaga and Montreal and our upcoming trip in August, I feel as though I'm in a dream. The fact that these lovely six people are willing to go on a trip that means so much to me fills me with awe; I'm so lucky that my friends want what I want. Granted we've wanted to take a big trip somewhere together since Jenn and Dave were first engaged and Janis was with Joe (this was eons ago, obviously), but we could never settle on where we would go. Jenn suggested Cuba or Mexico, or hey! How about the Dominican? But it wasn't until August of this year when I went out with Nicole, Rylan, Janis, and Wyatt and we decided that a trip to Montreal's Osheaga would be amazing  as a group trip that anything concrete was decided on. When we mentioned it to Jenn, she was a little hesitant because it's pricey... But now Jenn and Dave have flight vouchers from West-Jet, so their trip to Montreal might be covered! Huzzah! I still feel like I need to

I'm having one of those. And I know that this song will be added to the never-ending list of songs I have a crush on because, odds are, I'll be listening to it for the remainder of the year. And, years from now, when I've overcome this tiny hurdle, this song will come on the radio and I'll remember this moment (and all those other moments) when this hurdle seemed insurmountable. Maybe then I'll be able to laugh at my predicament. Maybe then I'll find the romance in what I'm feeling. But for now all I can feel is shame and annoyance and, yeah, I'll admit it: desperation. Because feeling the way that I'm feeling now? It sucks. I guess the bright side is at least I know I'm not alone; someone has felt this exact way and poured all their frustration into their words. I can take comfort in the fact that at least one other person has felt these exact feelings, though I'm sure more than just we two have felt this way. And this knowledge makes th

Admitting embarrassing parts of myself always leaves a chalky taste in my mouth.  Letting the words out is a struggle;  each syllable clings to the roof of my mouth like paste. I never know quite how to articulate my thoughts when I have to admit to those shameful bits of me. I never know where to start or where to end. It's why I often stay quiet. So when I meet someone I can share myself with, the words flow freely like water through a spile.  Each syllable tastes like honey; every thought is freed. I often confuse this sort of kinship, imagining that the person I'm sharing myself with feels the same. Imagine my surprise when I realize it was all in my head. Imagine the shame, the shock, the sheer frustration when I see the truth. And that's when the chalky aftertaste invades my mouth like rotten eggs. When I first tasted that chalky aftertaste was when I learned to keep those embarrassing parts to myself. No one is worth that awful flavour.

I've been thinking lately about how lucky I've been this year. (#blessed) Sure, I had my trying moments; there were times when I was so frustrated I could scream, but most of the year was good . And yeah, I had my fair share of heartaches and sadness, but the positives outweighed the negatives. I made new friends, I saw new parts of the world, I learned more about myself. Life gave me so many presents and I'm eternally grateful for 2013. But despite all that, I still want certain things before the year is through. I'm as selfish as they come and there's no denying that. And some of the items on my list are abstract, intangible things, but there are a slew of others that can be bought. Things like: -Pacific Rim -Beyoncé -HAIM -The Little Mermaid -The Rescuer's and The Rescuer's Down Under ('cause I'm a child) -Happy Endings (seasons one to three) I'm sure my family and friends will buy these things for me. But those intangible, abstr

I don't trust my gut instincts. They've led me astray too often; have set me up for heartache one time too many. So whenever some little voice inside me urges me to do something, I remember the shame I felt when my instincts were so flawed. My pride comes to my defense and tells me to stay put; I don't need to follow my gut instincts. And those times when it seems like following my heart is a safe bet, I feel the sadness I felt when things fell through. I feel it as strongly as if it had happened yesterday. So when my fear approaches me and cautions me that I don't want to live through that sadness and anxiety again, I listen to it and do nothing. Who needs gut instincts when self-preservation always wins out?

I don't know what it is about Elvis, but whenever I'm having a particularly fantastic day, I'll play his music non-stop. Maybe it's the energy in his singing; it could be his pizzazz. Whatever it is, on days when I feel especially great, his music adds to that good feeling. Almost the exact opposite can be said about Death Cab for Cutie. Their music, while great in my opinion, usually reduces me to tears. I'm talking about their Plans album in particular. There's something inherently tragic about the tracks in that CD and I know I've listened to it on days I feel particularly sad and in need of a good cry. Now, when I'm in the mood for romance, nothing beats jazz music. When all I want to do is think about love and "happily ever after", jazz music puts me in a romantic frame of mind. From Nat King Cole and Tony Bennett, to Ella Fitzgerald and Billie Holiday, I can't help but swoon when I hear them croon. On days when I'm feeling r

I like to pretend that I'm a lot more confident than I am -- fake it 'til you make it, y'know -- but if there's one thing I've learned this year through all the experiences I'm forcing myself to go through (teaching, volunteering, taking classes), it's that I have a hard time doing things on my own. I have to repress my feelings of inadequacy and fear when I'm faced with a new experience. I have to push myself out of my comfort zone, often finding new reasons and excuses to do the pushing. It's difficult and terrifying and I usually have to blast Bob Marley's "Three Little Birds" to remind myself that no matter what happens, everything will be all right. It's never as bad as I imagine it could be . And what I'm realizing is that, yeah. I'm not afraid being alone per se (I'm comfortable going to the movies or going for a coffee by myself), but rather of facing new experiences by myself. I've always known I have an

This dude: This dude used to terrorize me when we were little. Allegedly. I don't remember much about our toddler years, other than the fact he had the  sweetest curls and would follow our cousin Lucia and me around.  Well anyway, after growing out of his (alleged) toddler bullying, hyper-aggressive ways, he's grown up to be an upstanding gentleman and I'm ever so proud of him and this amazing achievement! I mean, he'll be playing at a music festival in which Arcade Fire, NIN, AFI, of Montreal, Cut Copy etc, etc will play! I'm positively geeking out over this! This is huge for my baby cuz! He's been drumming since we were teenagers and I would always send him music in care packages to feed his love and appreciation for punk music and now... he's going to play in front of literally thousands and at a  huge  international scale to boot, too!  His band Los Tiros is one of the two Guatemalan bands that are going to Vive Latino. They're a mix

So, out of the blue at breakfast this morning, when neither of us were speaking, my dad looked up from his Honey Nut Cheerios and said, "Are you giving out Christmas cards this year? 'Cause they're the best way of showing people you care about them." Words of wisdom from Hector. I love it.

Janis and Wyatt aren't throwing a Christmas party this year. Nix and Rylan aren't having one, either. I'm half-tempted to throw one myself because I like Christmas parties. People dress up and you can ask your friends to bring along a gift or cash donation for the charity of your choice. Also, I like parties in general, so the fact I'm not going to many (if any) holiday parties this year is bumming me out.

I've filled this out a few times in the past, but I figured now that 2013 is coming to a close, I might as well do it again. Rules: 1) Turn on your iPod. 2) Change settings to "Shuffle". 3) Press play! 4) For every category, type the title of the song that plays. 5) Hit the "Next" button and DO NOT skip. 6) DON'T LIE! ***************************************************** Opening credits:  St. Peter's Cathedral (Death Cab for Cutie - Codes and Keys) First day at a new job:  Tonight, Tonight (Passion Pit - Cover of Smashing Pumpkins' song) Falling In Love:  Collect Call (Metric - Fantasies) Fight Song:  Mutt (Blink-182 - Enema of the State) Breaking Up:  Miscommunication (Timbaland [feat. Keri Hilson and Sebastian] - Timbaland Presents: Shock Value) House Party:  Junk of the Heart (The Kooks - Junk of the Heart) Life:  I Want to Know What Love Is (Foreigner - Agent Provocateur) Mental breakdown:  Police and Thieves

My oldest sister is officially in her 40s. This fact is making me feel old somehow... I love both my sisters; each of them has inspired me in such different ways and I treasure the time I spend with them both. And while my relationship with each of them is unique, I know that the relationship I have with Cristiane is special. We were always friends. When I was 18 months old, she went to visit my aunt Amparo for a few months in Mexico. When she came back, my parents say I rested my head on her shoulder, started to cry, and said her name ("Ki") over and over. When I was 13 and suffering through my first broken heart, she was the first one to take me to the kids' bookstore on Whyte Ave (Greenwoods' Small World), so that I could get my mind off my unrequited crush. And even on those rare occasions that my parents left her in charge of Pily and me, she was my friend first, my guardian second. And I think that's created a very special bond between us. A

I have three twitter accounts. One is private; good friends (offline and online) follow it and it's sort of my "home base" in terms of being the twitter account I use most. Another is public; good (online) friends follow me and it's the one I use for fangirling and acting like a huge  loveable  dork. My third account is private, private, private; only a handful of online friends follow me. I always feel so foolish that I have more than one account. I have friends who have two or more accounts, but those are reserved for networking purposes only. Mine? I have them because I'm too self-conscious about sharing parts of myself with good friends, so I have different outlets so those people won't see those parts. Dishonest? I could see that. But I like to look at it more as me being "selectively secretive." I don't think it's necessary for my friends to know what I thought of The Hunger Games: Catching Fire the seventh time I se

Distractions help. When I'm angry or I'm lonely or longing for someone's touch, it helps to know how to distract myself. It helps to know which movies will quell the longing; which songs will fill that empty space in my heart; which poems will calm the ire.  Distractions help. Especially when the restlessness comes back.

I wish I could be more honest about my feelings for certain people, but if they knew the extent of what I feel for them, I know it would overwhelm them.

This year was my "sort all of my unresolved shit" year. It's been going all right, I guess. I pushed myself out of my comfort zone more than once (*pats back*), I confronted some personal demons, and now I've committed to getting something I wrote published. That's right. I'm finally biting the mother-fucking bullet and pushing myself. I'm terrified, but oddly calm. The same way I would feel when I'd prepped for an exam and was about to go into the test: like I'd done everything in my power to guarantee that terrific grade, but still felt paranoid I would somehow muck it up. Y'know? Anyway, I'm submitting said piece by the end of the week. *flails*

I've made a list of cities I want to see next year. Montreal, Toronto, New York, Flores, Guatemala... I think it's doable, too. If I go see Mel in Ontario for my birthday in March, and I go to Montreal with the girls and guys in August, I could potentially go to New York after our stint in Montreal. Cut to October/November 2014, when a trip to see the old familia is doable. Yes. Yes. I quite like this plan o'mine.

I get to see four of my favourite people tomorrow. Heeeeeeee! I can't wait! Update: I got to see them and here are the pics! Sweetest angel-niece in the world. Best sammiches in the world. Subway ain't got nothin' on Panera -- er, Saint Louis Bread Co. Sister sister... never knew how much I miss ya! If I'm ever lucky enough to have my own kids, I really hope they're as cool as these two kids. Sweet <33333 p=""> My sister is the biggest ham in the world haha! American Family! I was sick for the ONE day I was there, but seeing them was worth the sleep deprivation and voice loss. 

Being home sick means that I'm going through old journal entries and I've come to realize that Young!Marcela was even more socially awkward than I am now. (And that's saying something.) For one, I legit said "CTRL, ALT, DEL" to a guy after I did something thoroughly embarrassing in front of him. (I think I confessed to wanting to smooch his face off. In those words. To his adorable face.) At another time, this same guy and I were chatting about our social studies teacher in our English class. The windows were open and the wind kept blowing my hair around, but it was too hot in the room, so no one wanted to shut them. Anyway, I was telling him about how much I liked our social studies teacher when some dandelion fluff from outside blew straight into my nose. When I was standing right in front of him. It literally flew inside my left nostril, nestled itself in there, and I hid. Legit hid. From him. When we were having a conversation. As if he couldn't see me

That aching, panicky feeling you get when you realize that it's game over. That no matter what you do, no matter how many times you text or call or tweet at them, or how many different dresses or perfumes or lipsticks you wear around them, nothing is going to work because you are not in the same stratosphere. He's here , you're -- well -- there . And it hurts. And it empties that hole you once thought was whole. But know this: you will survive. You will move on. You will meet and you will flirt and you will fall into another one-sided relationship with some rando because that's what you do. You've only really loved two people, anyway. The only reason this hurts so much it makes it hard to think , is that there was potential. And everyone knows that unmet potential makes us second-guess and question. It makes our skin crawl with possibility and sends a jolt of electricity through our bodies with expectancy. But that feeling? It will go away. Just accept it and, w

I'm always amazed when people want to spend time with me. I'm usually such a clingy friend (initiating get-togethers, texting first, emailing whenever I see anything that reminds me of the person), that when someone comes along who actively pursues a friendship with me, I'm taken aback. I don't want to scare them away with my effervescence, so I rarely text or email; I rarely make a move. And I think that's wrong. Because there have been times when my inaction has led to me pushing away people I genuinely care about and want to be friends with. So I'm of two extremes, really: overwhelm people with my need to be with them, or fool them into thinking I don't care for them as much as I do. I really need to work on tempering my reactions to things in general. These extremes o'mine are not conducive to me having healthy relationships.

Like, there's this movement that's been building since last summer where the more awkward and self-effacing you are, the more accepted you are by the majority. But I don't understand why people have to be self-effacing and prove how awkward they are to be accepted; I don't understand why we're encouraging one another to stay in our shells and avoid confronting our demons; I don't understand why we're settling for not going outside of our comfort zones. Insecure girls are not the smart ones. Being afraid and over-cautious does not make me smart. It does not make me a unicorn. What it does is prevent me from fulfilling my full potential and embracing all that I am. It prevents me from leading a fulfilling life. Insecure girls are not the ones who get the job or the boy or the friends. They're the ones who miss out. They're the ones who would rather slink into the shadows and hide , than prove to themselves that they're worthy. And I know that

Ways in which I routinely misspell my name: Marclea Marceal Marecla Marela Marcia Smart Marcela is supah smaht.

I keep getting spammed :( Guess I'm going to have to change my url. So long, randomchannelsurfing. You've been a great friend!

The act of existing is both confusing and amazing. Personally, I sometimes find it hard to believe that I exist. I have thoughts and I have feelings and I interact with other individuals. It's all very weird to me. And if you were to remove me, or anyone else for that matter, there would be a great shift in other peoples' lives. We're all connected and that's... bizarre to me. I've been thinking about Jamal today. I know that he and I drifted apart, but, even now, whenever I meet with anyone from the theatre, our conversations gravitate to him. This was a man who not only existed, but was an integral part of our lives for so many years. Most of us had a relationship with him outside of the theatre. Most of us saw him every day. For years. And now he's gone. Gosh, I miss him.

This new trend of (pseudo-)intellectual racists is fucking terrifying.

I'm very grateful that we never stop connecting with people. I admit that there are a handful of individuals I wish I was closer to, but I'm not going to focus on that because I can't really do anything to rectify it. What I can do, however, is bask in the happiness I feel over the friendships I made this year. And I'm amazed at just how many new friends I made. From getting friendlier with someone I was never friends with in high school (but reconnected with thanks to Melissa), to befriending my friends' friends and getting to know them on a more personal level, this has been a great year to connect with new people. And I'm feeling very thankful for each and every one of these new friends. Especially Mallory. Mallory is the kind of friend who makes you feel wonderful  about yourself. She's always full of interesting ideas, she's always very encouraging, she's always there to share with you her triumphs and her sorrows. Befriending her was very eas

Over-share or no share. Gush or rant. Adore or abhor. Where is my medium? Do I even have one? Things aren't that simple for me; I have never been cavalier  in my approach to people, events, or things. It's not the way that I operate. And that's a little scary because I put my absolute all into loving, into feeling . And every time I feel in those extremes, is another time I gamble with my heart.

It's both humbling and terrifying how much I love my nieces and nephew.

Those were a complete stranger's parting words to me today. And while a part of me feels sheepish that I will tell anyone and everyone about my desire to move to Montreal, a larger (and more prominent) part of me knows that this woman's words were genuine and her wish was heartfelt. And that is enough to make my heart feel toasty.

Last night was Rylan's 26th birthday party. I went as Rosie the Riveter and was joined by other feminist icons such as the Paper Bag Princess (Tamara), Cat Woman (Janis), Wendy Darling (Nicole) and Satan as Britney Spears (Seth). It was a grand old time and fun was had by all. Steph, Jenn, and Dave joined in the fun later that night and it was SOOOO MUCH fun to see the three of them! They even ended up staying well past 2:00 in the morning! Here we see two white boys gettin' down to some Biggie. n.b.d.

lush Superfluous Sloth Gratuitous Plenty Crunch Despise Melancholy Vivacity Raindrop Crackle Cacophony Voracious Perhaps Honourable mention: napkin

In the event that I start dating someone and in the event that we stay together for a long time and in the event that we fall in love with each other and in the event that we both "friend" one another on facebook, I don't think I would change my relationship status. Nope. I wouldn't change it when we start dating. I wouldn't change it when we get engaged. I wouldn't change it when we get married. I don't see how my facebook friends -- most of whom I don't speak to -- need to know about my romantic life. The friends I do care about would know because I communicate with them on a daily basis. Family would know because, well, they're family and odds are, I'd take my spouse to Guatemala at least once during our courtship, so they'd meet them. But I personally find all the updates and all the "life event" changes to be a little attention-seeking? But that's just me.

This week's experiment has taught me that letting go isn't as hard as I'd thought it would be. I can (with hard work and some forethought) condition myself into attributing positive aspects to myself without guilt. It is necessary to refrain from adding to the never-ending cacophony of negativity that surrounds me. It taught me that any negative thoughts--be it that I'm pathetic, or ridiculous, or dumb--I unconsciously think the moment I do something embarrassing is instinctive. So what I've learned, really, is that while thinking such negative thoughts about myself is detrimental to my mental state, my emotional well-being, and, yes, especially my self-confidence, all that I readily know about myself is that I'm pathetic, ridiculous, and/or dumb (depending on the circumstance). At least that's what my instinctive reactions would have me believe. So I've been wondering these past few days, how well do I actually know myself? I mean, I used to th

So far, it's not working. Come on, tear ducts! This CD triggers a Pavlovian response from you! What the hell, dudes?

'Cause I have a crush on someone new. It's stupid 'cause we've never even met in person, but there's something really genuine about him. We'd made plans to meet tonight, but he was called out to work out in east-central Alberta for the next 21 days, so he cancelled on Monday. We text tonight for a little bit and I'm floored by how much I giggle and melt at the things he says. And no, he's not overly sentimental or romantic; I'm not fawning over sweet-nothings. What I am fawning over is how genuine and kind and thoughtful he is; he strikes me as a true gentleman and, as clichéd as it sounds, it's made me like him even more. And what I'm learning now is that I'm no longer fixating when I get a crush. I'm learning to temper my expectations ( somewhat ) and to accept things as they happen. I'm no longer obsessing over the fact a boy doesn't like me and I'm learning -- slowly (but surely) -- that it's perfectly fine for

"When we numb [hard feelings], we numb joy, we numb gratitude, we numb happiness.” (Brené Brown)

Over the next two weeks, I'm going to be nicer to myself. And I don't mean the pampering and TLC kind of nice, but the actual act of being kind to  myself. It's sad to admit it, but I'm so quick to judge my actions; I feel embarrassed and frustrated and feel the weight of the world on my shoulders for every mistake, every misspeak, every stammer, every twitch, every situation that is out of my control. I am very understanding and compassionate when it comes to other people. I recognize their strengths and marvel at how clever they are and feel genuine awe at how great they are. When they make a mistake, I cheer them on in silence and I sympathize with their plight. It's easy for me to be caring towards others. However. When it's me who's making the mistake, or it's me who's floundering, I get overly critical and unkind. I think things about myself that I would never think about someone else. And, while I'm terrified of admitting this

The truth is that the more intimately you know someone, the more clearly you’ll see their flaws. That’s just the way it is. This is why marriages fail, why children are abandoned, why friendships don’t last. You might think you love someone until you see the way they act when they’re out of money or under pressure or hungry, for goodness’ sake. Love is something different. Love is choosing to serve someone and be with someone in spite of their filthy heart. Love is patient and kind, love is deliberate. Love is hard. Love is pain and sacrifice, it’s seeing the darkness in another person and defying the impulse to jump ship. ( The Great Kamryn )

These last few weeks have been cloudy, windy, and oftentimes rainy. Ideal weather for a heat-hater like me. So I've taken to listening to my "Rainy Weather" playlist on my iPod (aptly named Marcela's Mix - It's Raining! It's Pouring! Her heart is sooooaring! ) on constant loop. It has rainy day classics such as "Singin' In the Rain", "I'm Only Happy When It Rains", "Águas de Março", and some less-rain-heavy songs like Coconut Records' "West Coast" and Radiohead's "House of Cards"; songs that personally remind me of the gloomy weather for reasons. (For instance, I saw Radiohead live when I was in Montreal at Parc Jean Drapeau. It was an exterior venue and there was a torrential downpour all concert long; ideal setting for a rain-raver like me.) And the more I listen to this particular mix, the more I realize that I associate the rain and clouds and wind with Montreal. The more I realize that

If I ever marry a white man and we have passing white children, I will do everything in my power to ensure that our children are aware of their white privilege; that they will advocate for other minorities; that they will empathize and relate with minorities; that they will speak out when they see injustice; that they are kind, compassionate, and see that human suffering is not something we should ignore. Because if I ever marry a white man and we have passing white children, I don't want them to ignore the half of them that's brown; the half of them that's buried within the whiteness; the part of them that's painted over. If I ever marry a white man. If I ever have passing white children. I promise.

This Friday was a gift. It taught me that even when the four of us have a disagreement (for lack of a better word), we care about one another and work hard to improve our relationship.  I love these three women with all of my heart. I honestly cannot imagine my life without their light and love. 

My dad's life is different. Not different in the bad sense, just different in the sense that he's done and seen and experienced certain wonders and events that not many would be privy to. He was involved in Guatemalan politics, was a minor-league soccer player, helped fund a library in a small village; the man has had a vast and varied career. Now that I'm trying to sort my dreams, I've realized that it doesn't matter how many dreams I have! Each and every one of them has potential; I just have to believe in myself. Instead of sitting around, panicking over the sheer enormity of some of my dreams -- feeling meek, intimidated, and alone -- I have the power to make all of my aspirations come true. I just need to get started. //Perspective.

As much as I'm hurting over everything that happened this weekend, I now have a more concrete understanding of certain emotions and situations. And yeah, it's going to hurt for at least a little while longer, but it's another experience; it's another perspective on life. I have a better understanding of mannerisms and facial quirks and rough edges and body heat. Yeah. It's going to hurt. But every defining moment in life comes with a little pain. And, as Bob Marley wisely said: "Truth is, everybody's going to hurt you; you just gotta find the ones worth suffering for." It was short-lived and it was wonderful. It was bursts of energy and euphoria. It was tenderness and frankness. It was a shooting star; a rogue wave; an avalanche. So much -- too much -- and yet not enough. Not enough. But I'll live.

Three days. That's it. Just like Montreal. I'm a cliche, yes, but I'm a cliche with a timeline. And three days is enough for me to purge all this sadness. Three days is enough for me to get over it. Montreal will always be there My hope will always be there   Just because things didn't go the way I'd hoped, doesn't mean my life is over. I have to get back up and try again.  Try Try Again. 

Just because a guy likes you, doesn't mean he'll want to be with you.

I don't think I know how to enjoy good things. I fret and obsess and dissect every little interaction until I feel sick to my stomach and want to hurl into the waste can. It's awful. I'm so happy I have plans for tonight 'cause I am not going to obsess any more over any of this stuff. Nuh-uh. Not anymore.

There's a feeling of complete calm right now, despite my heart's fluttery and happy feeling and my tummy's coiling anticipation. It's a good day. It was a good Sunday and that goodness has transferred to today and I'm seeing the world in a sublime light. I couldn't even fault the sun's obnoxious rays this morning! The only thing that could improve my good mood is a rainstorm. (Prays for rain.) I've had good days, don't get me wrong, but today? Today is especially wonderful. My mouth won't stop quirking into a smile and I feel like hugging complete strangers. And I hope I can remember this feeling. No matter what happens, I hope I can hold onto it and I hope I can bask in this warmth for a long time. And I'm a happy person who finds smiling quite easy and who can focus on the positives in just about any situation, but this feeling? This insatiable need to smile? It's like my regular good mood times seventy. And I'm addicted to

Three pairs of people. Six. Six sweet meetings. Six. Six attendees. Six. I'm really starting to like the number six.

I happen to believe that everything in life is connected. One good deed spawns another; every action has a reaction; cause and effect. And the same can be said about our love lives. Truly, it can. I remember the very first time I was approached by a guy. It was the very day my middle sister Pily flew to Milan to start her two year program in interior architecture. My sister and I were never that close (I was always closest to our older sister Cristiane, who I saw as my very best friend), but that morning before she flew away, there was something final in her departure. It was almost like I knew that her future lay in Europe; and it did! She now lives in Germany with her husband and beautiful daughter, but even on that September morning, I was aware that the Pied Piper was calling her home. It was all very traumatic to me, but I didn't understand where my surge of emotions was coming from. So, there I was: at the TD bank, waiting for my parents to drive me to school. I was seven

And the truth will set you free (after the panic attacks stop).

I just remembered why I avoid getting crushes: they hurt.

The main negative part about having a potential romantic dream-lover person follow you on any social media platform is that you're constantly second-guessing yourself about what you can and should post, as well as what you can't and shouldn't post. It's a constant tug-of-war between your brilliant ideas and the self-conscious nail-biter at your elbow, reminding you that "so-and-so could read into your tweet that you want his bod bad" or that "dude could mistake that flirtatious pic you just posted as a total come-on, c'mon!" So I hardly ever tweet. Hardly ever post a pic or link. It's better this way.  Passivity is underrated, I think. Right?

So September 5 was first Him's birthday. That's was why I was all emo thinking about "His" song and all that.** It amazes me, actually, how much space he occupies in my head. I truly don't understand how someone who, for all intents and purposes, was a blip in my life -- a mere plot point -- can still mean so much to me. Even now, years later, when I'm fairly stable and extremely happy and and and and just excited for the future, He's just... there. It's not right or fair to me. And yet I can't stop myself from remembering the exact shade of his eyes, or the way he tied his shoes -- much less the way I felt when things were exciting and happy and my gullible soul fooled my willing mind into believing that he cared about me just as much as I cared for him. Ah, to be young and stupid again. To believe in earnest that all we needed for our story's happy ending was the right timing. I mean, I knew we both felt something. I knew we both cared ab

I think people are drawn to angsty songs (especially angsty love songs) because it's easy to imagine ourselves in the singer's position. It's sexy and tragic and (a lot) self-serving to feel this sadistic need to feel the way that the singers do. I think I listen to a lot of angsty love songs in general. But the worst thing I do, is listen to happy up-beat music because it reminds me of someone I once loved. I mean, people usually listen to sad songs and cry, but no. I have to take it one step further and listen to a happy song because I want to feel miserable over some dude I was in love with once upon a time. Like. Why do I do that?

What with Edmonton's drizzly days and the relentless sunshine and the wonderful nights out with friends... a lot of things in my life here in Edmonton have been reminding me of my life in Montreal. Every day I recall something wonderful and it creates a pang in my chest. But at the heart of the matter, really, I think it's more a problem of me wanting a life outside of Edmonton. Or rather, that, well... I'm bored in Edmonton. I crave a big change in my life and I'm trying (desperately) to find said change.

I went to his party on Saturday. You know who I'm talking about, right? My friends' tall, smart, really nice and really hot, nay,  handsome friend? Yeah. He invited me to his party this past weekend and I had fun and I'm even more into him now. And it's not because of any one thing, either. It's not like he did anything extraordinarily suave or gave me any signals that indicate he's into me on a romantic level; it has more to do with the fact that he's really kind and accommodating and charming and friendly . It's like he finds every single person he interacts with uniquely interesting and wonderful; and to be honest, a person could get used to being on the receiving end of that feeling. So, full disclosure: he and I exchanged numbers, but now I'm super apprehensive because, on the one hand, I'm always thisclose to shooting him a text and asking him to hang out 'cause, hello!  Dude is wicked adorable and awesome. But, on the other hand,

I was once convinced it was THURSDAY (not Tuesday) on a Tuesday last summer. I kept thinking, "One more work day after today and then it's the weekend! Woot!" I was later informed I was wrong. But even so, Tuesdays are always the best day of the week. Something awesome always happens to me on Tuesdays. But, on the other hand, they suck, too. I'm always extra tired on Tuesday. Let's hope today's a memorable Tuesday!

Today's a listening to "unrequited love songs" kind of day. I sure like to wallow... Playlist of the Day: - Caray (Pandora cover of Juan Gabriel's hit) - Oye Mi Amor (Maná) - Sombra De Ti (Shakira) - El Día Que Me Quieras (Alejandro Fernández) - La Media Vuelta (Luis Miguel) - Dreaming of You (Selena) - Dancing On My Own (Robyn) - Return to Sender (Elvis Presley) - Why Pt. 2 (Collective Soul) - Losing My Religion (R.E.M.)  (too soon. too soon.) - Heartless (Kanye West) - Better Be (Anna Ternheim) - Poison & Wine (The Civil Wars) - Take A Bow (Madonna) - I Can't Make You Love Me / Nick of Time (Bon Iver) - Selfish ('NSYNC) - Sunset (The xx) - Wait Till You See Her (Ella Fitzgerald) - I Love You (Sarah McLachlan) - You Oughta Know (Alanis Morissette) - Heart's A Mess (Gotye) - West Coast (Coconut Records) - Tell You Something (Nana's Reprise) (Alicia Keys) - Soul Meets Body (Death Cab for Cutie) - Hearts in the Night (Bed

I have decided that I'm going to go to Guatemala next year. . . . For at least two months. . . . By myself. I'm making it happen.

I didn't end up wearing the heels 'cause, first of all, ouch, and second, uncomfortable, but I did meet up with my friends for the inaugural pop-up restaurant din-din and my friends' hot, awesome, nice, smart, and crush-worthy friend was there. We chatted a bit, too, which was lovely and... drum-roll, please: he invited me to his house party on Saturday! I'm legit freaking out a bit because I get horribly awkward around him, to the point I mostly just smile and nod when he's talking to me and 'cause I like living in the fantasy I've built about him and me wherein he's into me, and I'm into him and we slowly gravitate towards each other and eventually succumb to our desires and bang. Kidding. But really, I'm just afraid that the more time he spends with me, the less he's going to like me and it's going to suck big hairy testicles if he doesn't like me back. (Pathetic sentiment, I know.) Look, I'm ready to date, but I don&

... my friends have this one really tall, really handsome, really smart, extremely nice friend. He's a super great person and the superficial side of me is 100% smitten with him because he's the kind of guy teenage me would have crushed on HC had I known him in high school. Anyway, I'm gonna see him tonight and... well... I did something really dumb. I'm really, super short in comparison to him; think, Lea Michele in flats and Cory Monteith standing rod-straight plus at least three inches height difference. Anyway, knowing I was gonna see him tonight, I bought high heeled shoes in the hopes that if I wore them, I'd be closer to his height, and now I feel really dumb about it but... I just want to maximize my odds of him liking me back and him wanting to get to know me so my superficial crush won't be so superficial anymore ugh. God, I'm fucking lame.

I wrote a post last night about the sudden surge of sadness I felt over a complete stranger's death. I decided to delete it because I didn't really see a point in having it up. But I was wrong. I've always considered that writing was great therapy. You put your thoughts/feelings/etc in order; you vent a little; you rationalize why you feel the way you do. And yesterday was no different. I do feel sadness over Cory Monteith's death. I do feel anger. I feel powerless and confused and a little cheated. Cheated because Glee (and subsequently my stint in Glee fandom) didn't deliver. When I started watching Glee, I expected to feel happy and thankful and lighthearted. And I did. At least in the beginning. But now, four seasons later, knowing that one of my favourite characters is going to die  and knowing that my favourite character will mourn the person she loves most in the world when the actress that plays her is already in mourning...? I mean, that hurts so ba

Is there anything worse than staying up late because your mind's on overdrive mulling over something completely random and irrelevant to your life like how much you never knew you liked someone? Honestly can't stop thinking about a random friend of a friend and it's driving me bananas.  I really never knew how much I liked him until tonight. 

First Jamal. Now Cory. It all hurts so much. I can't even listen to music.

Anxiety sucks because no matter what you do, you can't help but think about things that are plaguing your mind. It's a constant loop of tumultuous things that reverberate through your body, making you act and say foolish things you often don't mean. Anxiety sucks. Especially because you can't do a thing about it.