If this published time stamps, ya’ll would have seen the 11:59pm and felt the rush that I just did.

Now that I can come in and edit let me tell you that bringing blogging back into my life has been a very wise decision. It doesn’t feel as secret as it used to, but I suppose that’s the point of blogs these days isn’t it? And shouldn’t that be the way? I used to put things on the internet with the intent that it will get lost. Like shoving all your feelings in the Room of Requirement. Now I feel like that lady rolling her dirty laundry down the street to the laundromat. No towel tucked on top to cover her shame. Unabashed dirty laundry comin atcha.*

Yup. That’s me.

Over the past year I’ve made so many blogger friends and have been using this place as an outlet for some deep feelings, as I cover it with fluffy posts about books and makeup. I love what this space is becoming. I love obsessing over the layout every few months. It feels very comfortable, like I’m participating in a hobby that’s kind of second nature.

Basically, this is rad and I’m making sure my annual domain renewal charge feels worth it.

Thanks for sticking around.

*Actually I try to rein in my personal drama and think critically before I publish a post so my blog isn’t a hot mess. Let’s be honest, nobody likes that girl at the laundromat.


Big Feelings

Here’s the thing.

I’m an idiot.


I often let my heart get carried away before my head knows what’s going on. I can’t help it. I can fall in love in a day or two, which is insane. Brooklyn Nine-Nine has a term for it: going “Full Boyle.” It really just means getting in over your head in love (which ends up biting you in the ass). Normally I can distance myself from my Full Boyle behaviour and come off as a normal functioning human person, but if the person I’m interested in shows signs of mutual Full Boyle-ness I let my defenses fall. And by that I mean I open wide the gates of my heart and throw a welcome party.

At first it was working out in my favour. It felt like something real and significant was happening. It hadn’t been a long time but we became very close and spent a lot of time together. We were making plans. Little trips, things we wanted to do together. He asked me to make an actual list of stuff we should do together while he was away in Mexico. So I did. I put it in my bullet journal and made it all pretty. Some things for now-ish, other things for the summer.

The week went by really slow because I was so used to spending every other evening with him. The day after he came back we talked. Mexico was good, but he got really sick towards the end. I’ve been sick while abroad before, it’s not fun and you just want to go home. You want comfort. And for him, that was his ex. They’d been broken up for a year but he realized he still had some unresolved feelings that he needed to deal with, on his own. He was very kind to me when he said we couldn’t see each other anymore, and I understood. He didn’t know he had these latent feelings until he got sick, so I can’t be mad at him for allowing me to believe we were going to be something substantial. Telling me ASAP and taking the space and time he needs to heal is the best thing for both of us.

But here remains me, running full speed into a potential relationship and slamming face first into a brick wall. And that brick wall hurt. It hurt more than it should for something that lasted less than a month. I cried. A lot. I had a friend come over to spend some time with me. She brought me flowers and ice cream and chocolate. (What a gal!) It felt like a breakup, and it took me a weekend for my emotions to settle down. I took a couple of long thinking showers to figure out how I felt. You know the kind I mean. The result:

I’d do it again.

I have no regrets about what happened. I don’t want to be the kind of person that doesn’t let people in because they’re scared of getting hurt. I don’t want to be callous. I want to let things affect me; to learn from them and let them become a part of me. I want to be the kind of person to have big dreams; big thoughts; big feelings.

Niagara Falls for Labour Day

This weekend is officially the last weekend of the summer! At least, student summer. I will continue to enjoy the gorgeous weather and go to work. But my mom thought it would be nice to get out of the house/city and do something a little different. Niagara Falls isn’t too far from Toronto; about an hour drive, but for us it was an hour and half with all the college kids moving in. (Haw haw, have fun paying thousands to be emotionally tortured making friends and shaping your bright future in our toppled economy!)

I’m not sure if going was the best idea because I was irrationally grumpy but I tried very hard to be pleasant. It was difficult because I wasn’t in the mood for crowds or bickering about which direction to go. A couple of things brightened my mood. One of which was this super rad car:

It's like a convertible Batmobile?

It’s like a convertible Batmobile?

And second of which was this souvenir sign:

I dont know if this is supposed to be a dirty joke but it is and I love it

A+ Outstanding

If you’re able to tune out the touristy jungle, Niagara Falls is actually a great place to lose yourself in thoughts. You stare at the water falling, unending, rushing, eroding, and not giving a fuck about how grand it is. It just is and it’s magnificent.


Also there is a perma-rainbow.


The American side

My mom lives for Niagara at night when they put coloured spot lights on the falls. (They do fireworks at 10pm but we were well on our way home by then.)

My phone’s camera is basically useless at night but here’s a valiant effort at a panoramic view with blue spotlights on the falls.

Niagara Falls isn’t anything new or special to us because we’ve been a few times and it’s a nearby tourist spot, but it’s nice to step back and appreciate that this is basically in our back yard and people travel from across the globe to see it.



Rapunzel vs Gothel

I told myself I’d stay away from this topic because it’s too sensitive and too personal. I thought my old LiveJournal entries were a mistake, but I’m realizing I needed the outlet. I’m back to living with a parent who used to emotionally abuse and manipulate me, and he still kind of does. He tells me what’s good for me without explaining why. He expects me to blindly obey. He makes decisions I should be making for myself. He coerced me into a joint bank account so he can keep an eye on my finances.

Before moving out, most of my friends referred to me as Rapunzel — not because of my hair but because I’m trapped in a metaphorical tower.

Making social plans was near impossible. It resulted in me being kind of a hermit, taking up hobbies like painting, baking, reading, knitting, scrapbooking, and vlogging. Not to mention it made me afraid of everything outside my house.

Upon moving back I decided I’m going to be upfront about my plans but he thinks it’s his place to tell me who to socialize with and what activities I can do. I turn 27 in two weeks and this is how I live. My therapist says I need to be the Queen of my own life, and I do intend to. This is going to be the most difficult thing I do. If I want to make a change in this relationship dynamic I need to put on my crown and be a big strong BAMF.

A Fresh Coat for a Fresh Start (I’m Moving!)

I’ve been reluctant to post anything on here until I wrote about my trip to India, but I don’t think I can really express what I went through emotionally and mentally over those 3 weeks. The trip was a journey in introspection. Who am I? Who do I want to become? Where do I come from? Where am I going?

I have been struggling with the notion of moving back in with my parents. To most people, that’s not a huge deal; Maybe a bit of a bummer, being a grown adult and moving back in with mom and dad. But the turmoil runs much deeper for me. I’ve had a very very strenuous relationship with my dad and when I moved out 3 years ago it was not on good terms. I used to write about our fights all the time in my old LiveJournals but have since stopped sharing much of my home life online. For one, I don’t like the idea of painting him as a villain to everyone who knows me online. I don’t feel like that’s fair of me, and the things I write in anger are surely not accurate.

What I’ve learned in the past 3 years is that we are both battling our own demons, but with some compassion, patience, and forgiveness, there’s no reason we can’t have a relationship or even live together. It will not be easy in the least. There’s tension between our generation gap, our culture gap, and our language skills (English is not his first language, and he can often come off as rude unintentionally).

I can’t say this move is going to be easy, but I know it’s right. I’ve known for a while I would need to do it and I’ve been making excuses. It needs to happen and it needs to be now. I know we’re capable of coexisting and we need to try.

Before I can really get to settling in, I need to change my bedroom. I spent a lot of nights in these walls wailing, feeling anxious, angry, spiteful, depressed, forlorn, and unloved. Oftentimes I feel like those emotions have seeped into walls and reinfect me when I least expect. I explained this to my mom and thankfully she didn’t think I was insane. I don’t know if she explained it to Dad, but he gave me no trouble about wanting to repaint my room and he made no objections to the ocean blue I picked out. (It’s very calming!) I also mentioned I wanted to paint my bathroom since we still have the contractor’s paint in there, so this turned into a week of me painting my room, 2 bathrooms, and my parents’ bedroom. (Not that I mind – I love to paint!) I think a fresh coat is just what we need. Cover up the holes, scratches, and stains, and get started on something new.

The Mess That Was January

Hello, it’s been a while! I thought I should write something just to fill in some blanks because January was quite eventful. And by “eventful” I mean it was like that Olympic speed skating event where the guy fell right out of the gates.

I had started my new job at the gym in late December and it took most of the month for me to realize I hated the job. It was a sales job and it made me deeply unhappy. It filled me with stress without any sense of fulfillment to balance it out. I liked my co-workers a lot but it just wasn’t enough to keep me happy. My mental health ended up suffering until I had a panic attack Wednesday morning. My entire body was telling me it didn’t want to go back to that job.

I have a tab open of maybe 30 editorial jobs to apply for and if I’m honest with myself, none of them seem very exciting. I took the day to contemplate my life and happiness. If editorial wasn’t my jam, then what was? I drifted back to a conversation I had with my mom when she insisted I should go back to school. I told her if I were to go back for anything, it’d be animation. So… why not animation? I looked at some of those jobs and noticed two things. One, they pay really well. Like, really well. And, two, the job descriptions focus more on creativity and storytelling. That sounds so up my alley it may have impregnated me.

My heart made a decision without really consulting much of my head. It’s the same heart of the 13-year-old kid who wanted to draw cartoons, but Dad said she’s no good and should pick something else. It’s time for that kid’s dream to come true. I know what college I want to go to; it’s the best in the country and major animation studios (major, like PIXAR and DreamWorks) headhunt the graduating class. Today was the deadline to apply for 2016. I decided that this year is going to be about me delving back into art and developing my skills. I’ll begin compiling my portfolio this fall so apply in the winter.

For now I am job hunting for whatever will get me by and surrounding myself with art. Two of my closest friends graduated from OCAD and they’re really excited to art with me and share their knowledge and experience. As scary as it is to say “I quit my job and now I want to go to art school,” it also feels like a huge step in the right direction.