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...

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 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...

He was pretty fantastic. And that's not me putting him on a pedestal, really. I know I have the tendency of doing so (see: Hims 1 through 3), but I was actually pretty aware of my feelings and actions when it came to him. I say he was fantastic because he was inquisitive, and kind, and understanding, and honest, and considerate, and measured. He was great. Really great. The kind of great that reminds you of what you want in life; the kind of great that makes you impatient and impulsive and (dare I say) ready. He was the kind of guy I've written about in the past . I say "was" because, well, I think things have officially run their course. And while part of me is super sad that this is over before anything really happened, another part of me knew it was inevitable; the same sad ending to the same serial episodic tv series of my life. Heroine meets boy; they flirt; they date; it ends; end scene. And I hate that I didn't want it to end--if this was inevitable, wh...

(I think.) Like a ghost or a memory, he's popped back into my life and I'm feeling so unsettled by his reappearance. I don't know what to make of my emotions. My stomach is unsettled, my heart won't stop racing, my head spins. Part of me is elated to know that he is doing well; that he's back in the city; that he's going to school. Part of me is terrified that even though he's reemerged, nothing I do can control what will happen between us. He can still choose not to reciprocate; he can still choose to vamoose out of my life like he did so long ago. (Please don't disappear again.) And it's funny to me because now that he's back and that I want him (and only him) and have my blinders on and my eyes are zeroing in on him (and only him), it's raining men. Men who want me and want to spend time with me (and only me) and I want him (and only him). But, of course, he does not want me, back. My stomach is unsettled. My heart won't stop r...

Today is the first day of NaNoWriMo. *cue fanfare* And... It's off to an okay start. I had three story ideas, so I decided to write all three. I don't know if I'll keep that up, but for now... it seems to be working. I mean, whenever I feel inspired for one, I'll write that. When creativity for that story is zapped, I'll start working on either of the other two stories. It's interesting because my approach to this exercise is very non-committal. All I want is to write the 50'000 words in thirty days. Past that? I don't really have any real drive or motivation or impetus. It's all about the numbers for me, baby! So I don't know if it's because I'm only going through the motions with this: Whether it's because I want to be able to say, "I've written a book!" or really if it's because I'm feeling slightly pressured, but... that's how I'm approaching this year's NaNo. Plus, let's not forget the fa...

You know when something pretty awesome happens to you, but you're too shocked to really believe it happened? Like, you can't stop pinching yourself or second-guessing your memory because it almost feels as though you're making it up. It's too good to be true. It's the kind of thing that happens to other people, but never you. Well. Something pretty awesome happened to me and I'm trying to be cool about it. But, as much as I want to keep my cool, a quiet part of me is insisting that I just go for it and lay it all out there. I mean, what's the worst that could happen? (Cryptic blog post, I know...)

There's this guy. (Isn't this how most of my entries start?) And this guy is very cute in my opinion. And I've actually made a move on him. A move. I rarely make a move on men I find attractive because I like having the ball in my court. I loathe divulging my attraction because then it's this back-and-forth between the two of us where he makes a consequent move and then I counter that move and yes, I'm well aware that this is how relationships (be they platonic, professional, romantic, whatever) start, but I so prefer to live in the fantasy world where I place this man on a pedestal and he just remains blissfully unaware of my attraction to him. So I'm a coward. And while I take no pleasure in speaking this truth, it's a truth I know about myself. Some people are brazen and impulsive no matter the situation; I am rarely brazen and impulsive in any situation, but I'm especially cautious when it comes to relationships. Quite honestly, I need several shot...

My attraction to yet another male has blossomed into a full-blown crush. And, as it is always wont to happen: He fell out of like with me and is now avoiding me at all costs. So what did I--a soon-to-be thirty-year-old--do? Well, I got very lovesick and consequently confused my nausea and panic with a stomach bug.  Let that sink in.  Seriously. I'm so frustrated and so goddamn sad . I built four different castles in the sky with this guy and now all I feel is empty. Empty and restless. Again.  I've already performed most of my ritual for getting over someone ; although the playlist I created was more of a "I have such a huge crush on a guy who is both cute and tall and makes me wanna jump his bones" than a "We could have had it all, motherfucker, but you decided I was lame and boring" playlist. I'm ahead of schedule with this guy, though. I skipped over denial (the step where I deny the fact I am developing feelings for a person--this...

I love eating by myself. I can be as loud -- slurping, gnashing, moaning -- as I want to be. I can be improper and unladylike and as gross as I see fit. I can devour a banana in two gargantuan bites. I can savour pudding for as long as I like. I can use utensils if I want to, forego them if I don't. All in my own company. No one to gawk or chuckle at my less-than-stellar table manners. No one to rush me, no one to make the usual "were you raised by wolves?" comments. Sweet silence, sweet solitude, sweet food. I love going for long walks by myself. I can people-watch -- imagine that two strangers fall in love under the city skyline -- to my heart's content. I can pop into shops and peruse new book titles, clothes, albums, etc. I can saunter on a lazy, glum-filled day. I can walk at my own fast pace on happy, loved-up days. All with only me for company. No one can tell me to "slow down" and that I "walk too fast for a short girl". No one ...

Not entirely out of order, but not entirely in order either. Remind myself how problematic he is (counting calories, misaligning political ideologies, racist comments, etc) Delete his phone number from my phone. Avoid places and events I know he's attending. Repeat the words, "God, I hate him" whenever I think about him. Convince myself I'll never see him again. Imagine that his breath is nas ty = crush almost over. Make a secret playlist of songs that remind me of him. Write a list of why he sucks. Rationalize why we wouldn't work out. Get sad when Nicole challenges this belief. Imagine him with another woman who -- in my mind -- is a better fit for him than I would be. Help him romance said woman. Get sad when Nicole challenges this belief (yes, this happens twice for two different reasons).  Force myself to like someone new whilst I simultaneously... Avoid the opposite sex like it's my part-time job. Take a trip or two or five. Drown m...

Going through this blog, I know who I was smitten with by the content of the things I would post. First Him was for the first few years. I know this because the first few years are littered with posts in which I confess to starving myself or wanting to escape Edmonton because everywhere I looked, there were memories of him. Second Him was from the summer of 2008 and onward. I was constantly fretting over not seeing him, or seeing him, or knowing he would never feel the way I did. But liking second Him wasn't only about him per se; liking and thinking about him was also tied to my one true love: Montreal. Montreal is the one constant in my posts. My love for this city has never wavered and you'll find posts sprinkled throughout this blog as odes to the city; it may just be my one great love, seeing as I've gone through bouts in my life where I hardly notice men, but my adoration for Montreal is ongoing. I had a bit of a break from getting random crushes on men when I...

Every time I think I like someone  (Lies. I actually like someone. I'm just embarrassed that I  still  have feelings for him, so I'm saying I don't.) , I compile a list of songs that fit with my feelings for him. My current playlist includes: Talking Body (Tove Lo) Partition (Beyoncé) Elastic Heart (Sia) Soundwave (Trevor Guthrie) Blue Jeans (RAC Remix) (Lana Del Rey) Some Boys (Death Cab for Cutie) Style (Taylor Swift) Ride Wit Me (Nelly feat. St. Lunatics) Goodies (Ciara feat. Petey Pablo) Milkshake (Kelis) Get Low (Lil Jon) Izzo (H.O.V.A.) Jay Z There is no better music genre to express new ( old ) infatuations than pop music.

I'm currently in another one of those one-sided infatuations and it sucks. Honestly. It used to be that I used to live for the rush of liking unattainable people because it was nice to like them from afar. After all, liking someone from afar means that I'm safe; safe from rejection, safe from heartache, safe from forming actual attachments to them. I like safe. Safe is good. But now, for once in my life, I wish I could like someone who wants me too. For once, I'm wondering aloud, why can't I like someone who's single or someone I've exchanged more than a handful of awkward sentences with?  I'm bemoaning, why can't I notice someone who's non-famous or knows I exist? Why can't I why can't I? And yeah. I'm fairly self-aware and know that I hate admitting when I'm interested in dating someone. And I don't just mean admitting that I find a person attractive, or gathering the courage to ask them out for coffee, or plucking the s...

Sure. It's superficial. I admit it's pretty judgey. But when a dude knows how and when to use "too" versus "to" or "two"; when he knows how and when to use "their", instead of "there" and "they're"; when he knows when to use "your" instead of "you're"; when he knows how to use the serial comma; and when he knows the right way to break the rules, it all just makes my attraction to him even stronger. Because people who know how to write, are hella sexy.

she keeps getting told she ought to have told him how she feels but she did tell him in the way she held his gaze in the way she said his name in the way she stroked his arm in the way she smiled at him she was exposed to his x-ray eyes she was honest and transparent and vulnerable and got nothing for it he took her admission of affection and threw it away like       it                meant                               nothing she keeps getting told that she ought to have told him how she feels no one knows she did

A few weekends ago, my friend Anna married Rodrigo. In two short days, my friend Tamara will be marrying Sean. And in July, two more of my coupled friends will be tying the knot (Pasquale with Carmella, and Jen with Mark). It's a change for me; last year, I went to only one wedding, my cousin Quena's, and attended two funerals. And before Quena, I hadn't gone to a wedding since my sister Pily's in 2011. So you could say that this is a year for new beginnings and, while totally cliche, it's a thought that makes me smile. All around me people are falling in love and wanting to share their lives with the one they love most; it's inspiring and oh so sweet. I guess 2014 is officially the year of the happy couples. And that's a thought that makes me smile.

There's a look you get and it makes me fall in love with you. Sometimes, it's the face you make when you're embarrassed. When the rosy hue in your cheeks darkens and your eyes adopt a vulnerable quality that betrays the tender soul you have. When it's clear you feel naked and exposed; when I can see who you really are before you hide behind your sarcasm or wit, your charm or your grace. That's the face I see before I fall asleep and dream of you. Other times, it's the face you make before you say whatever it is you want to say. When you motion with your hands; clawing, grasping, trying to pull the elusive words from thin air, your speech stuttering because the thought you want to express fills you with so much passion, you don't know how to vocalize it. When you gently bite your lip, your eyes to the sky as you try to articulate the point as best you can. When your inability to make yourself understood helps me read you better than I ever have before....

I've been toying with the idea of loneliness these last few months. How people can be fulfilled in almost every aspect of their lives, but still yearn and pine after an experience they've lost or someone they've never had. How people can obsess and pore over the potential they never saw through to the end or the memories they turn to every night before they fall asleep. It's part of the human experience, this loneliness. We are social creatures; we rely on other people; we are none of us an island. We feel loneliness so that we are pushed to connect with others around us. We feel loneliness so we can survive and to survive, we need other people. Every disaster movie has one common element: no one survives on their own. In every one of those movies, there's a channel of people who work together to kill the zombies, destroy the aliens, survive against the elements, make it out alive. We need to believe that we are never alone; that someone is always with us. We ar...

I can pretend that you love me. I can imagine you walking next to me. I can picture you kissing our children goodnight. I can see, in my mind’s eye, the expression in your eyes when you propose. I have a very vivid imagination. So vivid. So vivid it often tricks me into believing — nay, assuming — that what I dream in my wake state is my reality. I have a very vivid imagination. I wish I could pretend it away. I wish I preferred reality to my own imaginings. I wish I wasn’t haunted by what I picture before I fall asleep. I wish I couldn’t visualize the way I do. But I can and I do. I have a very vivid imagination. It’s something I have to contend with.