Random Channel Surfing

I'm currently waiting to board my flight back to Edmonton. I'm comfortable; picked a prime spot right next to the phone/electronics charging station; I ate a large brunch with Janny and Wyatt just before coming to the airport; I feel like I did everything I had planned on doing on my trip. But I'm so so so sad. Leaving Montreal for the fourth time, you'd think I'd be ready for the heavy feeling in my heart, the prickling of tears in my eyes. This was an amazing trip, but I don't want to leave. I don't want to! And I feel a sense of loss and longing and dread right now that I attribute to the fact that every time I come to this city, I am forced to leave it.  And I'll be honest: after this last trip, I know I'd be extremely lonely in Montreal. This realization makes me equal parts frustrated and sad. Because I know that leaving Edmonton for Montreal will not be easy. I know that when I finally move here, I really would be all alone and fuck. ...

Tonight's the night before I fly out to Montreal with the girls and their fellas. Half of me is restless and anxious and fighting the hiccups, while the other is blissfully aware of how blessed I am to be going on this mini vacation. Seven days of mischief and laughter. Seven days of music and feasting. Seven days in the one other place on the planet where I truly feel at home. I can already smell the rain on the pavement and I can already imagine how wonderful our time there will be. How did I ever get so lucky?

My dad always says that you have twice the number of problems if you get angry with someone. Problem one is that someone wronged you. Problem two is that you chose to get angry or upset with this person. For the most part, this piece of fatherly advice is easy to follow. But there are days -- my god there are days -- when anger is the only emotion I can feel after someone unintentionally or intentionally does something to cause me harm. And I don't know what's worse in these instances; would I rather someone harm me on purpose, or would it be easier if they did it without any intent to hurt me? No one on the planet is 100% pure goodness, or 100% pure evil. It's harder for some of us to be kind and tolerant and good sometimes, while it's some people's default. The same can be said about those of us who find it harder to be cranky and intolerant and mean -- no one is all faults and no good traits. And I think that's why it's hard for me to understand...

Wearing red lipstick does make you more visible. The correct terminology to use here is probably "noticeable", but for a shy girl like me, you definitely feel visible . I mean, let's be honest: you can't hide when you're sporting a bright, bold colour on your lips. People point it out sometimes and those who don't see you often may just say, "You're wearing more makeup than usual!" as though wearing lipstick is the same as slapping on three coats of foundation. [Cue eye roll] Wearing red lipstick teaches you how to properly apply lipstick. When you commit to wearing red lipstick every day for a full year, you need to learn how to properly apply it. That means that I learned the importance of investing in lip liner and actually used it. I learned how to apply lipstick so that it was long-lasting, so that the colour was bright, so that it was as bold as I was pretending to feel. (I only half-kid.) I also learned how many coats to apply, where...

I don't like giving people the satisfaction of knowing how much they hurt me, so when I act angry or distant, act apathetic or annoyed, it means that I'm hurt. So hurt, I'm embarrassed -- and the shame that I feel for being so wounded, is what makes me behave this way. I just thought you all should know.

Summer 2013, I was obsessed with this song. Now every time I hear it, I feel a really weird sense of sadness. It's not that last summer was sad -- not in the slightest. I actually have really happy memories of it. Rather, it's that I miss last summer so so so so so so much, that listening to this song makes me ache with a weird sense of longing. Nostalgia is a powerful drug, my friends.

I've written my first short story for my 2014 challenge. You can read it here . And I'm writing this, basically, to express the discomfort I feel for having written it. Most of what I write is at least partially based on events that happened to me; I'm not used to writing things from someone else's perspective. I've done it in the past, sure (several times on this blog, even!), but I'm more at ease when I'm writing about things that have actually -- physically and truly -- happened to me. So it was weird when I started about a dude who was literally dumped the day before his wedding. And it's not that I take issue with the subject matter, but it all felt so f   u       c           k               i                  n                      g forced . All that to say, I'm really happy that I'...