Archive for February, 2015

How much junk would a twenties girl chuck if a twenties girl could chuck junk.


A lot. That’s how much. In fact, to be precise, 4 bags of junk, 4 bags of clothing, two boxes of books and dvds, and a little bit of sanity.


I was going to talk about my kettlebell and how much I love the kettlebell workouts. However, that was before I started packing and purging. How in the world have I amassed so much crap? I am one person. Why have I not thrown out more of this crap before? And how do I go about avoiding having to do this all over again in the future? These are some of the topics I am going to discuss today because oh my god, I got rid of so much …. well, crap. And the worst part about is, THERE’S MORE!



I’m gonna need those one day!

I realize that I am not the only one to collect random things that you never throw out because, well maybe you’ll want that button, or you’ll finally use that tiny face cream sample, or you’ll take a trip and that sample perfume will be perfect for your carry on! Then one day you have to move and not only do you now have a plethora of these stupid, little things but lo and behold, you haven’t used a single one of them.


I have learned something about myself. It is a realization that is so simple yet explains, I believe, why I have 90% of the problems in my life. Instead of throwing (What’s another word for crap?) the refuse (thank you thesaurus) out I chose to store it somewhere to deal with another day. I have absolutely no consideration for future me. If I thought about future me at all I would not keep a mountain of random papers and receipts littered randomly around my room, my purses, my jackets, my computer desk and yes, in my closet. I would throw them out regularly when I realized they were useless. I would keep my elastic bands in one place instead of under my bed, in my purse, on my dresser, on my night stand, and anywhere else an elastic band can fall (so. Many. Places). No, instead I would have one, maybe two designated areas for them for easy access. I would have gone through my DVD collection of every chickflick known to man since 2001 and sorted through what I wanted and what I haven’t watched… well since 2000. But I haven’t. Until this week.


Organization has never really been my thing when it comes to my personal life. It would be a great quality to possess and develop, particularly as a type one diabetic as we have a wide variety of little tubes and needles and gadgets that we carry around. Part of the problem is I’ve never valued organization enough. In the workplace I know how to organize and file and place things in a matter of importance. At home however its never played a big enough part in my life that I’ve been able to appreciate it’s positive effects. I know that it would make my life easier, it just doesn’t feel like it would make it A LOT easier. That and when my brain is messy (which is frequently) my life tends to get a bit messy. It’s like I’m so focused on figuring out the scattered pieces flying about in my head that I can’t quite get a grasp on putting the physical pieces of my life together.


However, since I’m all about improving and changing and not being a hoarder when I hit 40, I’m going to put organization on my list of things to improve on. That and regular purging. I would expand on this further but I still haven’t tackled my drawers… There is no amount of fast music to make this any easier. That being said I will be blasting the Footloose soundtrack and hoping Kenny Loggins can make this entire process less painful.

Goodnight beautiful people.


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I got through the title of this and immediately became distracted by the internet. Seriously, have you BEEN on there lately? It’s a whole world of hilarious comics and cat pictures. Obviously you have since you’re reading this on the internet but honestly, check out those cat pics!


Anyways, where was I? Oh ya, changes! I started my last entry with a Pocahontas song, partially because apparently she’s part of my ancestry and also because Just Around the River Bend was a song that basically inspired me as a child. It may also have nourished the idea to never build any “roots” and constantly change my circumstances. Books tell me that’s part of commitment issues but I’m really not here to talk about that today. That comes later!

I promised you a faithful account of my current changing winds and that, my interweb friends, is what you’ll get.

I baked an apple today. Just like on Pinterest, swear to God. I cut out the middle and filled it with granola, put a tiny bit of butter on top and sprinkled it with brown sugar and let me tell you… It. Was. Phenomenal. I’ve always seen it done on Pinterest and dieting websites but i didn’t think it would actually be that good!

Also I worked out! I lasted about 25 minutes before the urge to throw up had me on the couch wishing I was dead but hey, I worked out dammit. This is the second time this week too! See, winds of change!

My idea of barefoot and pregnant in the kitchen

Seriously though, how cute is this!


The thing is, I’ve had a lot of pretty intense realizations since I broke up with my ex. I thought he was the one, you know. THE ONE. And I don’t even believe in “the one” as something that exists outside of movies made to make us hate ourselves. We just fit so perfectly as a couple. He never got tired of my “that’s what she said” jokes and he would sent me the most adorable and inappropriate memes. We had so much fun. But then things got pretty serious, we started talking about marriage and as per my last few relationships, that pretty much killed things.

It’s not the relationship ending that has me riding this wave of new beginnings though. Relationships end all the time and (get ready for that Commitment-Phobia – here on in referred to as “C-Phobe”) frankly I kind of expect it (again, we’ll deal with that one later. Let’s start off easy shall we?).

What I realized coming out of this relationship was that I can’t remember a time where I did something for me. I don’t mean that I’m the ultimate martyr here, I have a gold Starbucks card and have no problem getting myself something pretty. I mean I’m always in these relationships that, let’s face it, I don’t honestly believe in, yet for some reason continue to tailor my life around.

For example, my first BF (I was like 19) pretty much expected me to move to Montreal if things worked out between us and I didn’t really have a problem with the fact he expected me to uproot MY life even though he wasn’t willing to do the same thing for me. My second BF wanted me home, pregnant, and barefoot in the kitchen learning how to cook and clean from his beloved mother (shudder), and I went along with it even though I don’t want kids and the idea of having his Euro mom condescendingly teach me how to be her made me want to kill myself. Then we have serious BF #3, this latest one. Adorable and younger than me, also wanted children and to live out in the sticks while he put (here we go again) his mother’s needs before my own. Notice a pattern here? Obviously I need things to hit me in the face with a chair before I take any notice of them.

#I don't use hashtags properly


So here I am, 27 years old with 30 right around the corner and barely getting a handle on what I really want. As I look back I realize the issue is probably that I honestly don’t know what would make me happy in a relationship so when some guy comes along with this strong image of what he wants I figure, “hey, let’s give it a go!” It’s disturbingly reminiscent of Julia Roberts in Runaway Bride, except I don’t have her body and am 5’2.

So this is it, my journey starting at 27. I’m ready to take on the world and my own life, the good, the bad, and the ugly. Today was baked apple dessert and squats, tomorrow who knows? Every day is a chance to get to know myself better. To get closer to figuring out what makes me happy so I don’t get lost in someone else’s dreams again, only to wake up with a broken heart and a shattered life. I refuse to just ride other people’s motivation. I will search myself, I will search pinterest, and I will find my own damned motivation and carry it with me to the grave.

I do have some ideas for my future endeavors:


  • I love Spanish music/dancing so… get more into that!
  • Go to a shooting range and learn all about shiny guns.
  • Finally bake a pie… I don’t know why I never have.
  • Cook something new and different every week – today, baked apples, next week, WHO KNOWS!
  • Finally get that kick boxing bag and set it up in my livingroom.
  • Get to know someone unexpected, someone who I wouldn’t necessarily pick out of a crowd.
  • Maybe finally get some sort of hold on my sugar levels… maybe.
  • Get a freaking bed set, what am I, a college student!?
  • Finally put up pictures in my apartment.
  • Start jogging again. I loved it. I don’t know why I ever stopped.
  • Finish my novel.
  • Start my next novel.
  • Take a self defense class! Hi-ya!
  • Try out braids until I find one that doesn’t make my face look weird.


I think that’s it for now. This list is subject to change. I hope you all join me and maybe find something out about yourself along the way.


Ttyl beautiful people.

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There are moments in everyone’s life where change happens. Nothing remains in stasis, the earth is constantly rotating and so are our circumstances. Whether we choose to recognize them or not our bodies tell us it’s the truth. Our skin cells are constantly regenerating, our bones get older and our minds never stop taking in information through our various senses.

I’ve personally found that there are times where I can feel change happening. I can smell it in the air like a spring breeze at the end of a long winter. I can feel my heartbeat rev a little higher and my skin prickle in anticipation. It’s the magic they talk about in novels and Disney movies and even though it may not come at the end of a duet or the beginning of a sword fight, it does still happen.

Four months ago I broke up with my boyfriend. I spent a month completely shut down, not feeling anything. Then I spent two months crying, feeling everything from elated happiness to a deep sense of depression.

Lately I’ve been feeling something else. I can smell the change in the air and hear the whispers telling me something more is out there… if I only reach out I’ll be able to grab onto it. I’ve never turned away from it before and I’m sure as hell not going to start today.

So I want to take you all on my journey, whatever it is and wherever it’s going. I can’t promise dragons and sword fights, knights in shining armor or dark ninjas. I can promise you honesty and maybe even a story. I hope you’ll join me.

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Change will not come if we wait for some other person or some other time. We are the ones we’ve been waiting for. We are the change that we seek. – Barack Obama

I’m not a political person but what Mr. Obama so simply stated is something I feel I’m really only truly beginning to understand now.

Customer service is in my blood. My dad was an entrepreneur and my mother practically thrives off of helping people in need. I get a lot of joy out of being there for my friends and my family. I love knowing that I’ve made someone happy or helped in some small way to accomplish a goal. It makes me feel wanted and even whole. It’s become so engraved that it’s part of how I view myself and how I value myself as a person, a sister, a daughter, a friend, and a lover.

I would never take back any of the time I’ve spent helping others and building friendships that I hope will last forever. That being said, with thirty rushing towards me like a wave of the unknown, I’m realizing that I may have not spent enough time giving myself the customer service I deserve. I’ve never thought twice about helping to further someone’s else’s goals or happiness and it’s something I hope will never change. However I may have spent so much time helping others because I didn’t know how to help myself. I didn’t know just what would make me happy and instead of working on figuring that out I distracted myself with helping others be happy.

I’ve thrown myself into romantic relationships in much the same way. I’m always struck with an eerie sense of deja vue when I watch Richard Gere explain to Julia Roberts in Runaway Bride that her taste in eggs reflects how little she knows herself. Her favorite style of egg changes with l’homme du jour, she never takes time to figure out they way she wants them.

I know how I like my eggs, over easy, yoke intact (nom nom nom). But there are a lot of other things I’m not really sure of. And more things that I know about myself but have been willing to sacrifice because the one I loved wanted something else.

For instance, I know I don’t want children. I can’t tell you when the thought really solidified but I’ve been pretty convinced of it since I was about fifteen. Knowing that hasn’t stopped me from dating multiple guys who don’t just want children, but can’t see their lives without them. Instead of parting ways with these guys I’ve decided to try and picture my life with kids. Maybe I will want them one day, maybe I’ll change! Of course, the relationships have never worked out and I’m beginning to think a big part of it is because I don’t put the work into finding what I want, I accept what’s in front of me because it’s convenient.


I’m a fairly flexible person and I think part of it started when I was young. I’ve always been able to appreciate others interests, even if it wasn’t mine first. It’s how I bond with people. I get close to others by finding out what they like and learning about it, then showing an interest as well. I love to watch sports with other people who are passionate about sports but if I’m alone you’re more likely to find me reading a book than watching a game. When I was younger my oldest sister (who I idolized ) liked Star trek so I had to love star trek because she did. My brother-in-law liked wrestling so I took an interest in wrestling. My good friend liked to sing so I became her loyal back up singer. The list could go on and on.

This isn’t to say I haven’t gained so much by taking an interest in other people’s interest. I love sushi, I really enjoy both watching and playing football, I love to salsa and bachata and I love, not like, but love singing. All of these things I learned to enjoy through others and I’ll take it with me to my grave.

There’s nothing wrong with learning from other people but as I’m getting older and my friends are all getting married and starting new lives, I’m left to contemplate my own. I would love to travel, go to Scotland and Greece but I never have and I don’t have any active plans to do so. I would love to run a marathon but I haven’t started training. I have stories that are begging for completion but my novel remains unfinished and my characters unsatisfied. It seems like I can’t really find the motivation to do anything simply because I want to and that’s what concerns me. I’ve never done anything big based on my own motivation, I’ve ridden the waves of other’s motivation but never created my own tsunami of excitement. Heck, I only got a car because my boyfriend lived far away.

I don’t know how this happened. When I was in my teens I had endless amounts of inspiration and energy. I wanted to travel the world, I wanted to move out of Ontario the moment I had the means. I wanted to run as far and as fast as my short leg would  take me and not stop until I’d seen everything there was to see. I wanted to write worlds into existence and sing songs no one has ever heard before. And now I want to be the creator of my own story again, the writer of my own destiny.

I know that girl is in me somewhere. She’s taken a backseat and she’s dying to get at the front of the class again. My goal is to find her, give her wings, and set her free.

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