Random Channel Surfing

Most people have a "type". They're into tall dudes, or redheads, or prefer a little T over some A. I used to think I had three types. There was the type who looked like First Him (which, surprisingly enough, included Second and Third Him--both of whom physically looked like First Him). There was the type with dark hair, hazel eyes, and rosy cheeks (I called this my Gilbert Blythe type and I think it's the type I physically like the most). Then there are redheads--I like gingers. 'Nough said. But I'm also starting to notice that I like certain personality types, too. I like friendly, enthusiastic guys who make jokes. I like guys who whistle when they're doing mundane things. I like guys who drum on countertops or their steering wheel. I like guys who start up a conversation with the person next to them in line. I like guys who notice little details and comment on them. I like guys who make whoever they're speaking to feel like they're the on...

He opened his eyes (every morning), turned on his side (every morning), and lovingly gazed out the window (every morning). Every morning, he was greeted with the sight of three little birds on his windowsill. Singing sweet songs, a message to him and you, and even me. Songs about the happy feeling that bubbles in your chest. Songs about taking every day one second, minute, hour at a time. And every morning, he smiled to himself knowing that every little thing was going to be all right. Knowing he was going to have a damned good day.

A month ago, I was so overwhelmed that I felt like my life was falling apart. I was overwhelmed, frustrated, and feeling like I had managed to dig myself into several holes .  But that was last month. March--despite it being my birth month--was a complete dick. April seems to be takin' it easy on me, which is unsurprising because that's been a pattern for Aprils in the past. And I don't want to lie; I am feeling overwhelmed and rundown (still), but I've actually managed to accomplish quite a lot these last few weeks. In fact, I'd argue that 2018 has been non-stop list crossing--even in March. I mean, I've managed to secure a job, plan out future blog posts for my side blog ( Salty Fashionistas ), get published in a local rag ( !!! ), and plan some time in my day-to-day to write. I'm feelin' pretty good about myself right now. I said last month that I anticipated that my 32nd year of life would be easy-peasy since year 31 was full of so many back-to...

Ten years ago, I was in the middle of planning my temporary move to Montreal. I was both excited about the move and anxious about living away from my family and friends. It was exhilarating and I was very optimistic about the temporary relocation. When I talked to Nicolas (the guy whose lease I was taking over) on April 4, 2008, I didn't have a clue that I would undergo as much as I did when I lived in Montreal. It might not seem like a whole lot to an outsider, but Montreal living was my first real taste at complete solitude. It was the first time I took a bite out of life and understood what it meant to be an adult. It was also the first time I fell in real love. I've mentioned my past loves on this platform. From First Him through to Third Him, I have detailed how my love for these men shaped me into the woman I am today. Well this post isn't going to be about them. No. This post is going to be dedicated to that moment in time when I genuinely felt in love with mys...

I have been on the other side of 2017 for four months as of today. Four months in which I've met wonderful people, have become a part of interesting organizations, and even started new ventures. It's been interesting and wonderful and cripplingly terrifying all at once. Tomorrow I start a new job. One that I interviewed for and have kind of, sort of, maybe been dreaming of since I was in school. It's a writing job. An honest-to-goodness, pinch-me-I'm-dreaming writing job. Part of me is terrified at the prospect of starting this new job, but another part of me is sort of blasé. I mean, why get excited about this when I can't guarantee that it will go all right? It seems like this year's theme is: Just when things start going right, I hit a bump in the road and it all goes to shit. I can't trust things right now. Life is trying to teach me a lesson and I'm confused and unsure and I don't know which steps to take. One thing's for sure, though....

Meeting him was a calm sea after the storm. the quiet moments after a gun blast. Meeting him was the salve for her burn. the refreshing cool water trickling down her trachea. Meeting him, meeting him, meeting him. She was the raging sea -- waves crashing, tide rising, despair and moaning washing onto shore. She was the pulling of the trigger -- taut, then unwound, the crash, the boom, the crackle and thunder. She was burning, pining,  desperate for him. She was parched, thirsty,  needing his sustenance in her life. He was all this and more. She  was all this and more.

I have a hard time accepting things as they happen. I have a tendency of overthinking and analyzing and fantasizing and assuming that I know the way things will play out. I don't; no one does. But I am introspective and that tendency of being so self-reflective makes it hard for me to let things unfold as they must. I love to be in control and I love to anticipate how things will pan out. I need to prepare myself--mentally, emotionally, physically--for any and all outcomes. Blame it on my penchant for being hyper-focused on reigning in my emotions; blame it on my fear of change; blame it on any number of things. But if there's one thing I've learned since last March, it's that, even when you have an inkling of what's about to happen, when it happens, you have no fucking clue how to handle it. No matter how much you prepare and how many permutations of the scenario you anticipate, the reality still knocks you upside the head, leaving you dizzy and vulnerable....

A lot of stuff is going down and it's going down fast. I'm flustered and angry and more than a little confused, but I know I'll get out of whatever hole I've created. After all, year 31 was the Year of Great Changes (it's what I'm calling it now... fucking 2017), so that should mean that year 32 will be easy-peasy. Right? 2018 has to be better. It just has to be. Why is being a human so hard?

2017 has been over for almost two months now and I can honestly say that I feel 1000000% better for it. 2018 seems to be a better year, but it's early days. Early days.

At least that's according to Greg. I hadn't seen him since late June (he's been busy with his play and I've been busy with finding work), so we met up for dinner and wine at The Common this past week. It was, as it usually is with this insightful dude, a really wonderful evening. He's a few years older than me, so he's been through similar situations with life, work, love--the whole kit and caboodle. He usually "gets" me (which is very fucking important in all my relationships). So, we sat down, ordered our food and wine and I brought him up to speed on my life. I gushed about my upcoming trip, I lamented my exit from the boutique, I explained to him the steps I'm taking to make my freelance career an actuality, and I explained to him how anxious I've been feeling. And, after confiding in him about all the bad shit that's happening in my life, he looked me straight in the eye and said, "This is your rock bottom." A part of m...

Me: "Julis, I miss you." Julis: "You miss me? You should come live here." Maybe I should  leave Edmonton.

Q: And realistically, what's the worst that could happen? A: My heart caves in on itself, collapsing from grief and disillusion, never to beat again.

Years from now, when I realize how silly and petty some of the thoughts I have really are, I will realize how foolish and unnecessary the anxious feeling in the pit of my stomach really is. Because right now, this anxious, restless feeling that pervades my every thought is a constant critic and its white noise is set on a frequency I can pick up if I listen hard enough. It's telling me how stupid and foolish I am. It's reminding me of every embarrassing, shameful moment to date. It's making my life incredibly hard to enjoy. And, real talk: I don't think I've cried this much in ages. And part of me understands that this has to do with loss and grief and the fact I'm grieving the loss of the community of wonderful people I had at my old job. I didn't think making a career change would feel so... Confusing. I know I made the right choice; staying there would have meant not chasing my dreams or making an effort to change my life. When I realized that the o...

Tomorrow is my first day at a francophone temp agency. I never wanted to be without a job for this long, but I didn't want to apply for any longterm positions lest the job interfered with my plans to go to Guatemala. 'Cause this trip? Oh. It's happening. I'm going to fly out on November 7 and I won't be back until December 18. That's 41 days of exploration and (dare I say it?) self-reflection. Whenever I think about this trip, I'm overcome with happy feelings and thoughts. This just goes to show how much I've longed for travel these last months. I'm excited and jittery--in a good way!--and I'm curious to see what happens to my life. Will things feel more centred? Will I have a better sense of what I want out of life? Will I finally grow that spine I've been lacking since infancy? Because I can be brave when I have to be, but that's not my permanent state of being. When it comes to feeling vulnerable and raw, open and exposed, I need...

Ever since March, I keep getting this feeling that tells me I ought to be in Montreal. It feels genuine and serious. A premonition. And I will be honest and say that when the prospect of ending my job arose, I felt light and happy because something inside me thought, " Montreal ." Montreal is the dream, the ache, the lighthouse. It's been calling to me since 2008 and its siren call hasn't faded. In fact, it gets louder and louder with each passing day -- a fact that only terrifies me a little. Because... I could do it, you know. I could leave everything: family, friends, newfound dreams. I could leave it all behind and make a future for myself in Montreal. And there's nothing stopping me. Montréal. Je suis toujours amoureuse de toi. 

Things right now are difficult. I'm feeling really stressed out about my current work situation (or lack thereof...) and I'm really feeling overwhelmed by all the changes that are going on around me. I feel... unstable and unsure. Just... Super cranky and out of sorts. And I think that part of this difficulty stems from the fact I've been employed since I was 14. Not having a job feels weird. Like I'm doing something sneaky or unprofessional. It's a weird pressure to place myself under. Why doesn't my life come with an instruction manual?

This is a picture of the last plane ticket I used. It was for my return flight from Frankfurt on December 28, 2015. In 2015, I took a LOT of trips. I flew to Orlando with Tamara, Sean, and Joe. I flew to Vancouver to spend some time with Mel. I flew to St. Louis to visit Cristiane, Brad, Patrick, and Claire. I flew to New York City with Tasha to explore the city. And, finally, I flew to Frankfurt to spend Christmas with the fam. In total, I took 23 flights that year to take me from Point A (YEG) to Point B (my many destinations). Eek. I took a picture of this ticket because I wanted to commemorate it. I wanted to commemorate it because I swore to myself that I wasn't going to fly in 2016.   I made this promise in order to be more conscientious about the environmental strain my many trips was putting on the planet.  Since this flight, I haven't boarded a single plane and, while I've missed flying and exploring, it's been a good break.  Today is Guatemala...

I used to think I had good taste in men. After all, I usually fall for guys who are pleasant; earnest in every way. Good guys. (Not to be confused with Nice Guys™.) But upon deep reflection, I have realized that I have yet to meet a truly good man. (For me, that is.) That's not to say that my friends are not good men; hell no. In fact, I'm starting to realize that my male friends may be the only good men I know (apart from my own father). But whenever I meet a potential leading man, I idealize him and ignore the warning signs that point to him not being quite-the-good-man-I've-made-him-out-to-be. In actuality, things go this way: Step 1  I see attractive dude.  Step 2  I sputter when speaking to said attractive dude.  Step 3  I replay our conversation over and over and analyze it to death.  Step 4  I fantasize different scenarios involving said attractive dude.   Step 5  I see attractive dude again.   Step 6...

Hello, Internet! It's been a hot minute, has it not? The last time I wrote was in  May . May: The month everything changed. I left my job, I started job hunting, I decided to go back to school, I decided to quit dating, I had a month-long panic attack that resulted in extreme vertigo, and I decided to actively pursue a career in writing. See? A  lot  of changes. Also: Nicole and Rylan are moving to Germany for two years while she gets her Masters. Yeah. I kept that to myself. Not for any specific reason, but more because I haven't wanted to share my friends' business. Add to this, the fact that I've been going through stuff. These last five months have been tough on me and it's made it hard for me to accept that things in my personal life are changing, too. So, I'm going to be completely honest. I'm not the same person I was a few months ago. Well, I  am  in the sense that I'm still me, but in terms of how I defined myself... fuck. I don't ...