when I was in your heart

Saturday is my 24th birthday. On that day at 10:33AM, I will be one year older.

I will also be leaving Nova Scotia to return to Montreal.

I don't want to leave. This place not only feels like home, but it reminded of what it's like to be happy. To feel comfortable.

To be by my beloved ocean.

Leaving. After four months, the crisp autumn wind rolled in and whispered in my ear that it's time to go.

So, on my 24th birthday, I'm going to be leaving a part of myself behind, here. And she'll stay here until next summer, when I can feel alive again.

wasting away again in margaritaville...

It amazes me that four months has passed by without me even realizing it. Somehow, the months of December-March never seem to pass by so quickly.

I'm driving back to Montreal--which I've stopped calling home, if you've noticed--on Saturday. I've been so consumed with thoughts of returning that I completely forgot that this Saturday is my 24th birthday. I had wanted to drive back on that day because I thought there was no better way to end a four month journey of self reflection than to drive back on the day where I get to turn the page and start a new year. One year older and lightyears wiser, but still with a reckless abandon that I think, and hope, I will always possess. The happiest people in the world have mastered that balance between wisdom and complete blissful stupidity.


If you had asked me in June, I would have said that I was coming to Halifax to change. To learn something, to be different. I did learn, I learned a whole lot. But the magnitude of this trip will hit me in pieces, later on. When I react to a situation in a way that I never would have before, that's when I will realize exactly how important this experience was for me. how essential it was, just to be able to grow as a person.

Because that's what it's all about, really. People never really change. I learned that. They just morph into different shades of the same colour. You grow, you shed skin, you sprout new leaves, you just keep growing while remaining the same foundation of yourself. I came here looking for change, and I'm leaving here knowing that it doesn't exist. Thankful that it doesn't exist.

It's funny that nothing typically monumental hppened in Halifax--things that other people would see as a big deal and would justify what I did. My life has never been typical, so I'm not overly concerned about another person's input. I didn't fall in love with a boy this summer. Instead, I chose to believe that there is a boy out there that I can fall in love with. That realization and acknowledgement was a big step for me.

Moving to Halifax for four months was essential to my well being. Getting out of Montreal was essential for my well being. It figures that I've only ever wanted to work in the NHL, and Halifax is one Canadian city that lacks an NHL team. The irony is not lost on me.

But maybe as the months go on, my shades will change and it will make sense. Maybe it won't ever mak sense. Life is about choices, and if we never had to choose between two very difficult things, then we'd never appreciate what we chose as important.

Life is about the constant decisions you make everyday, about what is important to you. Because everyday, you let something go.

This summer was as much about letting go as it was about choices. Letting go of negative assumptions. Letting go of what I think should happen, and choosing to just believe. Believe in anything.

Believe in everything.

People can be compared to stained-glass windows. Although they glitter and shine when the sun is out, when night falls and darkness prevails the true beauty is revealed only if there is a light from within.

i thought i lost you somewhere

Sometimes I still pinch myself. I can't believe I have lived in Nova Scotia for four months. Four months. I can't believe I actually did it.

When I sit at the harbour, I just try to take it all in because I know how much i'll miss it. I can feel the dread already. Last year, I came here for maybe 10 days total, all broken up, and it tormented me all year. I missed it so much, that I started a monthly countdown until I could go back. Everyday I thought of it--and that was just barely ten days.

Now I've lived here. And I am going to miss it so bad. The little things. the smell of the sea. The neon Murphy's Restaurant sign on the boardwalk. The Purdy's Wharf buildings always in the background. Spring Garden road.

I don't know how I'm going to do it.

I learned a lot about myself this summer. Monumental things--like I actually do want to get married. Since I was 15, I've abhorred the idea of marriage and never wanted to get married. But that was because I believed one type of guy existed--the lying, cheating, sleazy type. But this is about choices, and I choose to believe that the polar opposite is out there. I choose to believe that a good, decent, respectful guy exists too.

It's the theory of duality. If you believe in the evil, by default you also have to believe in the good. You cannot believe in a god without believing in a devil.

And the good? I could marry the good. It's not that I've always hated commitment--I've hated lack of commitment. Being committed to a guy that cheats on me while I remain blindsided is what terrifies me.

But, this is about choices.

Just like I choose to believe that I don't have to put on the short dress, the high heels, the drunk act and throw myself messily in a club to attract a boy. Yes, sometimes I do that. Sometimes I enjoy it. Sometimes, that kind of attention is exactly what I'm looking for.

But I choose to believe that there is more out there.

I also choose to believe that people don't fit into the perfectly labelled, defined boxes that I try to stuff them into. That even by calling someone an "exception," I am classifying them. I am identifying the box they should go into, and recognizing that they do not fit into it.

I choose to believe people are more complex creatures and far too messy to be fit into boxes. I choose to wipe the slate clean. You are a hockey player--you are a blank canvas capable of everything. You are a physics nerd with a wicked passion for jazz music--you are a blank canvas. I am a curly haired girl with a boisterous laugh and a growing renewal of love for life itself--I am a blank canvas.

I choose to be surprised by every single person I meet.

I choose to take it easy on myself. Stop the hate. I am never too fat nor too skinny, too loud nor too quiet, too brave nor too cowardly. I am what I am and I choose to owe not apologies for it--especially not for myself. I choose to hold my chin high. I can never be perfect but I can always be me.

I choose to take a chance. I choose to believe. I choose to believe that a boy can have a good heart. I choose to believe that I can succeed. I choose to believe that love will find me, that fate will always find a way. It might not be right now, I might not see it, but I choose to believe that it's out there, that it knows what it's doing. Because I sure don't know what I'm doing.

This summer was about me. It was like reaching into the mirror and shaking hands with the girl that is in there. Because for awhile, I wasn't sure who she was. I'm still not sure who she'll grow to be, or what choices she'll make.

I just know that I took care of her, by taking her away to a place where she knew no one for four months so that she could grow.

And now, she'll take care of me.

the now or never kind

Life is not logical. It never was.

Life is life. It is not logical. Life does not care if you think something is not possible or not rational. It will smack you in the face with that irrational and illogical thing until you get it: life does not make sense. Stop trying to figure it out.

Sometimes you need to let go of rationality, punch normalcy right in the face, let go, and just trust a feeling.

Because feelings are as illogical, as irrational, as so-completely-not-caring-about-what-makes-sense as life is.

Here's to the night.

feet to the ground

Balance, balance, balance.

The concept mocks me almost as much as fate does. Balance. It is my zodiac sign. It is a phrase I try and keep in my head at all times.

It is also an idea that completely evades me most of the time. Balance. Libra. A scale. What people don't seem to understand that a balance is calm, peaceful--when it's in equilibrium. Knock a balance just so slightly to one side and you're in havoc. When the scale tips, it crashes.

I always succumb to its' clutches, too. I allow myself to get too high, knowing that I'll come crashing down but just not caring. I'll also dig myself so deep into a hole that it's difficult to see the ray of sun that is shooting down for me.

I was elated yesterday when CBC/Hockey Night in Canada called me and asked me to be the permanent runner in Montreal. Running around like a madwoman(much to the amusement of the players) paid off and they offered me the position. It's nowhere near full time--it's just every Saturday--but it's a great start and a great next step toward my goal.

But then today I find out that the job I left in June--the one that was guarateed to still be there when I got back--is actually not so certain at all. When I e-mailed the director to tell her when I'd be returning, she said she'd do her best and keep me posted.

So a guarantee turned into a maybe. Which when you have bills to pay and a loan to pay off, a maybe can literally keep you up all night. Inducing panic attacks.

I've never been okay when my environment is thrown upside down. I can't handle it. In the span of a few days, one roommate is moving out, one is moving in, and I have to give up the room I've been subletting because the other roommate is back.

But roommate moving in already has allllll of her stuff all over the living room. I'm not good with messes. I can't handle them. They literally give me fits.

So I have to give up my room before anybody moves out. Then roommate moves out. Then a few days later, roommate moves in. I will be living on a couch for a month. And for the first few weeks of that month, I will have somebody else's stuff piled all around me.

I want to stay in Halifax. I do. I'm just not looking forward to not having a room, especially since I find refuge in my room. Sometimes I need to shut myself off from everything and everyone and have my own space. I won't have that for a month.

Stress.

i'm losing you and it's effortless

Leaving here is going to be the toughest thing I have ever done. Thinking about it gets me so, so upset. I'm mad that this isn't my "real" life. I'm mad that I'm growing up and have to deal with things like starting my career, and only getting 2 weeks of vacation a year. I'm mad that I only made this summer move this year, instead of doing this every summer since I was 18. I'm mad that I wasn't born here, that I didn't grow up here. I'm mad--distraught--that at the end of September, I have to move back to Montreal, back to my parents basement, back to working as a receptionist at a clinic. Back to a life that I realize I hate.

I don't know how I'm going to do it.

I made a promise to myself. I'm going to go back to Montreal and work my buns off and save my money, pay off my car loan. I'm going to apply to a few universities across Ontario in February, for my Master's degree. If I don't get in, then in April, I am moving here. Moving. Starting new. Getting away from Montreal. I hate my life there. I can't do it anymore. I can't work a menial 9-5 job and live with my parents. I feel like I'm going nowhere with my life. I can't even express how frustrating that is. I have my degree. I am passionate and good at what I do. And yet, when it came time to call on all the contacts I've made over the years through busting my ass off--not a single one of them can help me. Not one.


I can't find a job in the NHL. I have applied for everything. And returning to Montreal is stifling. It's a reminder that time is going by, I'm growing up, and I'm still as scared as I was when I was 16.

I really don't know what to do. I am applying for every open position in the NHL, but I'm pretty sure none of the teams even read the online applications. Haven't gotten a single call back. And if I don't get into my Master's, then I don't have a plan. I DON'T HAVE A PLAN. I will coast through life in a mediocre state, working a lame ass 9-5 job that doesn't even require a degree, never achieving anything that I set out to do. Because nobody would give me the chance.

I think I'm going to get back on anti-depressants when I move back. The anxiety and dread is that bad

i must be one of the wonders

I spent my weekend at my friend's house in Enfield, Nova Scotia. Her dad owns a fitness company and she is literally a millionaire. Enfield is the countryside about 40 minutes out of Halifax, the type of country-living where your house is in the middle of the woods yet smack on a lake.

She's right on the cusp of the Shubenacadie Grand Lake, and she's got all the cool toys. Seadoos, kayaks, canoes, jet boats, a zodiac, everything. She even has this giant two-person tube that you lie down on your tummy on, and hang on for dear life while the boat you're attached to guns'er down the lake. And let me tell you, if you hit a swell, you're flying six feet in the air. Trust me.


I was up at the crack of dawn every morning, sitting on her dock drinking coffee. I love water. I need to be around it. It helps me think.

I beat myself up a lot over not being one of those girls. Always glamorous and perfectly put together. Smokin' hot in a pair of heels and almost always in a short skirt. I know girls with perfect hair, perfect lines. Smooth talkers. Always perfectly dressed and know all the right things to say. And, they love to party and drink. They go out every single night and just live it up, the way 23 year olds probably should. Crawl in at 4AM everyday, go to work at 8, and do it all over again. Party girls.

I've never been that girl and I beat myself up a lot, because that girl is way cooler and dates more and all that jazz. I've forced myself to be that girl a few times, and it never worked for me.

But on the lake this weekend, I realized that I'm another kind of girl. I didn't change out of my bathing suit for two straight days. Being on the water relaxes me. I wake up early just to sit by it. Water does strange things to me. I'm totally comfortable leaving the house without make up on, completely natural. I'm a very strong swimmer because my dad raised my sister and I to be respectful but never afraid of the water. I was never allowed to block my nose as a kid.

I'm a real girl. I wear a bikini and not a push up bra, I know how to sail a boat, and I can yell my head off while careening down a lake at top speed on a tube. I didn't care what my hair looked like or how maniacal I sounded. I can jump off the boat in the middle of a lake and splash around because I'm not afraid of lake water and I love to swim. And when I dry off, I can do it again because I don't care how crazy my hair looks. I know how to fish and I know how to steer a canoe. I can surf and I wear twine bracelets and I'm tanned because I'm always outside. I'm the outdoors girl that doesn't always say the right thing but that knows how to have a good time and knows how to make you laugh--whether on purpose or due to one of her crazy, habitual antics. I would take being outside in a canoe on a lake all day rather than fake interest in a lame, alcohol-fueled club. That's not fun for me. Fun is not trying to dance to music that is being played way too loudly. Fun is not sticky and sweaty in a club. Fun is not trying to fend off a drunk guys' hands all over you. Fun is not trying to attract the attention of the boy across the floor. Fun is shrieking while hanging on for dear life on a Zodiac boat that's flying over the swells. Fun is killing the motor on the Zodiac in the middle of the lake, no shore in sight, and diving right off to splash in the water. Fun is kayaking and feeling just how powerful the water is. Fun is laying down on the dock in a bikini, soaking wet, hair spread out all around you, and falling asleep. Fun is sitting on the dock at 6AM with a cup of coffee, feet dangling in the water. Fun is being totally in your element.

I am a different kind of girl compared to the perfect, put-together ones. I am the outdoors girl. The one with the beach hair and olive skin and easy going smile. The girl with a towel, a bikini, and an extra pair of flip flops in her car trunk at all times, just in case. I'm the girl that you can't drag inside when it's a nice day out, especially when there's a body of water somewhere nearby. I'm the one that you can hear laughing at the top of her lungs from across the lake, when the canoe was purposely tipped over. I'm the type of girl that you can't throw into the water fully clothed, because I'll have already jumped in.

I've found the type of girl that I am. And you know what? I love her. She's a whole helluva lot more fun than the girl I pretended to be.