TWBITW Returns!

Update from TWBITW

Howdy, blogoverse!
How have y’sall been doing? I know, I know, I’ve pretty much abandoned you since…almost a month ago, making me TWBITW (The Worst Blogger In The World) (SORRY!); however, before I get into the meat and potatoes of this post, I wanted to take a couple minutes to share some metrics for the month and (once again! You guys are the best, I absolutely love my readers and the community this blog has opened up to me!) extend the biggest THANK YOU that I possibly can via the internet. Each and every last one of you hasd contributed to a successful blog – in fact, more successful than I ever imagined that it could be!

As of right now (3:31 PM pst; Wednesday, February 5th, 2014), we’re at:
-15,638 Unique visitors from 40+ countries (and steadily counting)
-31 unique visitors today alone
-318 comments
-85 blog subscribers (those of you who get an email every time I post)
-15 Tumblr. subscribers
-37 Facebook followers
-2 Twitter followers

HOLY LIVING SHIT YOU GUYS. I LEAVE FOR A MONTH (almost) AND THE METRICS STAY THIS GREAT? I have no words. I really don’t. The best I can say is “THANKS!,” and I hope you know that I mean if from the bottom of my wee black heart.

Anywhore, it’s been a busy busy BUSY month, and I have a shitpile to tell y’all, so let’s get started shall we?

When I last wrote to you, I’d just started the new job. Well, a month in and I still absolutely LOVE it. In fact, I’ve gotten a micropromotion – added Social Media Manager to my title, and as a super awesome added bonus perk, I now get paid to BLOG! Seriously! I’m not going to link you to it here in the name of maintaining a modicum of anonymity; however, it gives me the opportunity to write (A LOT!!) about finance (yay!), being a millennial in the workplace (yay!) and inject some personailty into my job’s online presence. Overall, I’d say that it’s a major fucking WIN, especially since I’m salaried anjd therefore protected from some of the nonsense that comes along with freelancing. Not quite an author per se, but writing my wee heart out nonetheless. It feels right, and it’s doing wonders for our SEO, so I must be doing something right, hey? Haha, I kid – I KNOW this is the right thing, the right place, the right time. Professional life is on point.

You won’t know this by the time that I publish this post, but right now, I’m actually not at work – I’m awaiting Brother Vega to come meet me and guide me through some Facebook/Twitter issues I’m now having to deal with on the comnpany’s behalf (natch, thre dream job comes with some expected headaches); and I gotta say, it’s damned nice being able to cut out of the office to come do some work at a coffee shop with my not-blood-brother, who is hilarious and awesome and can hopefully help me break the Internet. Perks of desk jobs #332: remote work, and coffee shop meetings that let me effectively leave my job two hours earlier than usual. Big girl job = way the fuck better than barista. I’m just not cut out for retail after all these years – I crave stability, challenge, and the opportunity ton advance these days more than I do easy money from gracious tips.

So that’s work. Tl;dr – work is great, got a promotion a week in, get paid to write for the majority of my day now. Win.

Moving onwards, I suppose the next highlight from the past month was attending an industry conference with Vega in Anaheim at the end of January (perks of desk jobs #339: the ability to take a weeek off because of the magic that is working remote), and it was seriously just awesome. Out of respect for Vega’s privacy, I won’t say too much about what conference I attended (it’s the biggest trade show in his industry, and I met Kerry King, and was two feet from Stevie Wonder. Twice. That’s all ya get!); however, I will say that it was absolutely wonderful to see my man in action, to spend some quality time with him on a short little vacay, and (of course) to walk around Cali for a couple days – one of my favorite places to go, and made much better by being there with my love! And yes, before the questions roll in, this was bthe same conference he was at last year when we’d only technically met once and before he’d come to visit me in the 506.

That’s the vacay, Tl;dr – went to Cali with my beau for just under a week, rubbed shoulders with some musical bigwigs, saw my man in action as a sexy businessman, relaxed a bunch. Win.

Otherwhore, not a bunch of outwardly thrilling stuff. Got my taxes done (2009-2012…DON’T BE LIKE ME KIDS. DON’T DO IT), which ended up netting me an additional 1000$+ that I hadn’t been anticipating. It’d be cool if the CRA would be snappy about processing those…but until they do, I’ll just keep checking the mailbox compulsively and praying that the Tax Accountant Gods are kind and quick! I also got myself a credit card (after having royally fucked my credit up at 19…it’s been a long road with a lot of learning curves thrown in for good measure), which should be in my hands by the end of the week! YAY! PULLING MYSELF TOGETHER FEELS SO GOOD. I got the man of my dreams, I live in the city of my dreams, I have the job of my dreams…my turn to put myself into the financial situation of my dreams, and I’m making great headway! It’s so so so exciting to be taking real consideration towards my future, what I want to achieve, and not only reaching my goals, but blowing them out of the fucking water on the whole. Also exciting is the prospect of getting all my stuff (a lot of stuff, cds, posters, clothes, etc) back from my parents ASAFP. I’m still awaiting a final date from the shipping company (ughhh), but the long and short of it is, that once I have my stuff back 100% of my loose ends are OFFICIALLY TIED UP, BEEYOTCH! Hell to the yes. Tl;dr – getting my finances in order and it feels so go-oo-oo-oo-d.

(For the record, it’s 10:14pm now. Vega is at hockey, and TWBITW is finbally finishing this entry!) Yeah. So I had my meeting with Brother Vega, which was good! I was sitting at the wrong coffee shop (derp), but when we found each other he helped me conclude that I’m somewhat fucked but also somewhat okay. So there’s that. After we finished up, I caught the bus home and was thoroughly entertained by the  meth head and the crack head who couldn’t quiiiiite communicate. Vega and I had some quality time together, then dinner, then he left for hockey. I have so far picked my outfit for work tomorrow, chatted with some friends, and taken a shower. Now, I’m listening to 90s hip hop and enjoying the heater!

Tomorrow, I’m hoping to FINALLY get back in the gym after last week’s unexpected cold from hell (oh yeah, I was sick last week and worked from home two days out of five – perks of having a desk job #235: remote work. Aww yeah.)) – Vega and I signed up for a gym membership in December, and I’ve been going hard with him with the weights. According to him, my ass looks better already – and my jeans are certainly fitting nicer again. It’s exciting doing this weightlifting stuff – I am eating ALL THE THINGS and still losing weight. Lift heavy things, put them down. Repeat. Go home. EAT ALL THE THINGS. Sleep. DOMS. Repeat ad infinitum. I can’t wait to be stronger – it feels nice feeling my body catch up to my mental strength. If that made no sense, blame “good advice” (hahaha, I think you’re the only one whoi’ll get that one, Vega).

Anyways, I think I’m gonna call this a post and go make a smoothie. Oh, munchies. Why do you always want ice cream?

For now,

TWBITW (Wallace), out.

PS: We’re up to 15,662 unique views as of 10:31pm. ❤

Inching Towards Daylight

Hello, blogosphere.

Happy Thursday to y’all. I’m rather impressed with myself today – out of bed before one, showered before two, smoothie in my tummy for sustenance, a handful more resumes fired off to potential employers. I feel a fuckload more productive today than I did yesterday…which isn’t saying that much considering that yesterday was a complete and utter waste. Regardless, up before one. Baby steps. I can only hope that tonight I’ll actually get some damn sleep – last night was another exercise in futility and slumber. As I sat there, for hours on end watching Weeds and drinking endless cups  of chamomile tea, I kept asking myself one question:

Not sure why there’s a superfluous hashtag but that’s the resounding question in my head.

Anywhore. I’m currently holed up on the couch (yet again) talking to Dee (and Baby Dee, who is adorable as all hell and has learned to say “HAIIIIII ABTIE MEEDDD” (translation: “Hi Auntie Mia!”), which melts my wee heart into a pile of goo) and cuddling with Mister Visa. I feel both useless and perfect from where I sit  at the moment – useless, in that I’m not contributing to society or anything by being depressed and sitting on my ass and crying and whatever – and perfect, in that I feel like I’m feeding my soul by just allowing myself some quiet time to think and mull over my thoughts and heal and whatever. Maybe this isn’t the optimal way to heal one’s head an one’s heart – perhaps I should join the yoga-doing, hair-straightening, green-juice-drinking uber health nutty hipster bitches – but then, I’d have to swallow my hatred for that crowd (along with some nasty as fuck kale smoothie), and for some reason, I have the nagging feeling that the whole thing would prove counter-productive. So, for now, it’s pyjamas, old school hip hop, and randomly bursting into tears in the comfort of my own home.

…which is incredibly difficult to explain to the general public. “No, I’m not crying for no reason at all, I’m crying because I’m dealing with repressed memories, PTSD, and an unfair dismissal from my last job. Did I mention that it’s a month until Christmas, and all the forced cheer surrounding me makes me murderous with rage?” So, I’m electing to stay at home for now, at least.

Anyways. Dee had to go, so now I’ve got Kurt (Cobain, that is. Nirvana’s “Unplugged in New York” is still my ‘I feel like crap’ soundtrack) keeping me company, and the heater on. My toes are frozen. It’s still earlier than I’d thought it was, maybe I’ll dig out my list of freewriting prompts and get some work done on the book. This week, I got fuck all done towards writing my first draft. My bad. Next week, I’m dedicating to actually getting out of bed when Vega does, firing off resumes, and seriously  attacking the task ahead of me. I have so much to say that sometimes the sheer volume of things I have yet to put to paper freaks me out and shuts me down. Luckily for me, until I get a call back for a job, I have infinite amounts of time, the world’s most precious and fleeting commodity, at my very capable fingertips. I just have to make the time I spend writing my book productive. Hell, maybe I’ll bring my notebook with me when I go pick up my severance on Monday and go devote a few hours to the book. at HABIT. After I cash my cheque.

I so look forward to the day when I can type these two little words with definite finality.

I really don’t know what all else to say. Nothing’s changed, really, because I haven’t done anything to effect change this week (besides fire off resume after resume….pleeeeeease call me back?!). I’m cold and tired and fighting the unrelenting urge to sleep the rest of the day away. I want coffee but don’t want to bother with cleaning the pot we use both for making rice and boiling water. Hmm. One of the worst feelings in the world are cold drips of water off the end of ones braid and down ones back. I’m hungry but my tummy is still angry and I don’t want to chance it. Might be arsed to clean the damn water/rice pot. I want tea.

TEA TIME.

For now,

Wallace, out.

“I’m friends with the monster that’s under my bed; get along with the voices inside of my head…”

Hello, blogoverse!

How were your weeks? Mine was…interesting, but I’ll get into that in a moment. First thing is first – I wanted to say hello, thank you, and welcome to the 22 new followers EIB has gained this month. I appreciate it more than I can say – and thank to all of you, the metrics for this month have been just out of the proverbial blogosphere. I’m floored and excited and humbled and amazed. Thank you, from the bottom of my wee heart. I’m also just loving how much more y’all are conversing with me via comments and emails – that makes my day, every day. In the same vein, I know I’ve been a slacker with my posts, and I promise to lace up my boots and kick myself in the ass a bit in the upcoming weeks. More posts, more writing, more goodness and rambly rantings in traditional Mia style. Y’all have lit a fire under my backside!

More posts. I promise.

Anyways. This past week was just..intense. Hard. Exhausting. Work is draining me quicker than a dollar store battery in a vibrator. It was better, briefly, after I manned up and talked to my boss about my manager, but it seems that was a short lived luxury. She’s back on everyone’s case and driving me batshit insane. I’m seriously weighing my options and looking around for the next big thing in my life. Never thought I’d miss a 9-5 desk job so bad…aaaaand here I am. Ho hum, such is life and growing up sucks. I’m going to do my absolute best to stick it out until Vega and I get back from LA in January, but I tell ya, it’s a conscious effort not to either lobotomize myself or quit every single damned shift. One of my much younger coworkers was telling me to try to see it as a “humbling experience,” and it took a lot of self control to smile and nod instead of go ape and explain to her that following almost an decade of self-sufficiency and much shittier jobs that I have earned the right to be more than a little dissatisfied right now. That said, she’s almost 20 and just moved out for the first time, so as bitchy as this is, she has a whole bunch of hard lessons coming her way which will hopefully explain my frame of mind to her better than I ever could. In summation, I hate my job and I need a new one. Preferably a 9-5 desk job with business cards and the capacity to wear high heels to work. Anybody know of anything in the 250, email this girl. I’m serious. I’m starting to hate coffee and that’s a fate I will not accept.

Yup.

In addition to my work stress, the premature death of my friend last Tuesday is still weighing heavy on my mind. He was driving from Quesnel back to Edmonton to visit some family for the holidays and got blindsided by a semi truck on the highway. I don’t think I’ve fully accepted that he’s gone, and the truth is that I’m still hurting pretty hard over it. I actually ended up taking a couple of days off last week to cry and mourn and hurt in private rather than bawl into people’s lattes and such. His last post on Facebook will forever remind me how lucky I was to have known him, though. “99% of the time, the good you do in the world will be ignored. Do good anyways.” Well, my friend, thank you for the beautiful reminder of how fantastic a person you were, and I promise you, I’ll do my absolute damndest to make sure I hold myself to that modus operandi for the rest of my days. I miss you, B. I really, really do.
So, lots of stress. Lots of it. Lots of tears and lots of frustration on my part, lots of understanding and consoling and being fucking amazing on Vega’s. I’m not proud of myself for cracking under the weight of it all, but I suppose everyone has to fall down sometimes. I’m making a conscious effort to make the best of my days to the best of my abilities. Not only is this year almost over (WHERE THE FUCK HAS THE TIME BEEN GOING?!), but the passing of my friend has reminded me once again that life is finite. I’m trying, I really am, and Vega and I have lots of living left to do. So, live I shall – to the absolute fucking fullest extent.

Damn skippy, Effy. I’m not either.

It hasn’t all be stress and bullshit lately, though. I was just saving the best for last! I got my sleeve started yesterday and I have to say, my arm looks fucking spectacular. My tattoo artist is a spectacularly talented chick and she’s truly outdone herself on my piece. Actually, I think she’s rather excited to finish the sleeve herself – I gave her a lot of artistic license and we collaborated on a truly beautiful piece. I sat for four hours, and it really wasn’t too bad. The spot inside my elbow was less than awesome, but the rest of it was mildly uncomfortable at worst.

Watercolour and dandelions and pretty pretty not naked arm! ❤

The entire process was just a pleasant and necessary one for me. Obviously, I was pretty excited about the appointment (haha I only talked about it here for five and a half weeks…imagine poor Vega’s experience…), but the truth is, I didn’t have a fucking clue how truly wonderful it was going to feel being in that chair. There’s the obvious – I’m a masochist and I did enjoy the pain, quite a lot. There’s the even more obvious, being that I now have an absolutely stunning piece of art (roughly 1/3 of my full sleeve, still need to do the top half of my arm and then the backside of the piece). Then, there’s the deeply personal (and thus, intrinsically difficult to explain but I’ll try my hardest). First, the scars that shithead Sunshine put on my arm? Pretty much fully covered. Soon to be fully covered when I go in for my next sitting. TAKE THAT, ASSHOLE.

Gratuitous alternate angle shot of my ink ❤

The whole thing is pretty much my “fuck you” to the world – to everyone who told me that I, everyone who doubted me, who made me feel ugly or stupid or worthless. It’s a testament to how far I’ve come on my own terms, to the good things and the bad things and the ugly things that have made me who I am. It was truly cathartic sitting there (and I sat like a fucking champion, no bitching from this girl) feeling pain that (for once) led me to a beautiful result rather than more bullshit to slog through. I’m sure my mother is shitting a brick at the whole thing, but hell, she’s part of that list of proverbial fuck yous. I did this for ME and I am thrilled. It’s also the most “Mia” possible interpretation of what a sleeve should be – feminine but not girly, colorful but not obnoxious, packed full of meaning but very personally so. Basically, this girl is ready to make her teenage dreams of being covered in ink come true, and I’m glad that I waited as long as I did. From the artist to the execution to the timing of it all, this was serendipitous. I have a smile that can’t be contained on my face and I feel like a badass, more honest version of myself. Honest, because I love tattoos, and I love my tattoo. Vega called me a “very passionate person” the other day, and when I asked him what he thinks I’m the most passionate about, his reply was simply, “art.” He’s right, and down to the watercolor style brushstrokes of this piece, this fucking nailed everything I wanted on the head with a ten ton hammer.

Last one, for now. Isn’t it GORGEOUS???

Lots of catharsis lately, which is a good thing seeing that it’s leading me to more positive frames of mind and allowing me to ditch my mental dead weight. I’ve been drawing a fuckton, too. I feel like I’m finding myself again after a bit of a dry spell. Finished the writing project I’d been working on with Spinnaker’s help (can’t WAIT to see what you have to say, Spinny. Thanks again for being my editor/confidante/friend with a heart of gold), and I’m finally to a point where I feel ready to start seriously writing my book. Seriously as in make time to write every single day, structured thoughts and plot lines and time frames and all. A year almost since Sunshine enacted his rage upon me. Mine and Vega’s anniversary is coming up in January, Los Angeles a few weeks after that, a year  of us being engaged a moth after that! Time has been flying and for once, I’m at the tail end of a year feeling like I really lived this one right. Most years go by and I end up feeling morose at this juncture (y’know, when people start blaring Christmas carols way too early and wishing you politically correct happy holiday seasons); however, this year has been different. Vega and I talk a lot about momentum, and I feel like we’re gaining a lot of it in our lives both as a couple and as individuals. It’s a great feeling to be grappling with – I don’t remember the last  time that I was this overwhelmed positively. I don’t believe in God, but I certainly have a lot of blessings to count. I’m grateful – even for the bullshit – because despite and in spite of it all, I am taking a cue from Thoreau and going confidently in the direction of my dreams; living the life that I have imagined. In fact, this is better than my dreams. This life we’re building together, Vega and I, is something magical and beautiful and awe-inspiring.

The soliloquy that Lester gives at the end of “American Beauty” pretty much sums it up. “And then, I remember to relax, and let it flow through me like rain. And I can’t help but feel grateful for every moment of my stupid little life.”

As for today, I woke up around 10:30, took the dressing off my ink, stared at it for like ten minutes, got dressed and ready, went to Superstore with Mama Vega, loaded up on staples (okay, on everything. Vega and I had not done groceries in a long while), came home, had lunch with Vega, did the laundry, did the dishes, and parked on the couch with some good tunes to type this entry. As far as tunes go, I’ve been rocking a bizarre mix of old school hip hop, radiohead, red hot chili peppers, and that “Royals” song by Lorde or whatever her name is. I’m downloading an old favorite movie of mine for Vega and I to watch tonight (Love, Actually), and I’m gonna bake some cookies after I finish up here. Low key way to spend my “sunday” before a sandwich shift tomorrow morning (I HATE YOU SO MUCH, 5AM). The perk here being that I am finished my shift at 11:30, have a closing shift on Wednesday, and then 2 days off. I think I can handle that without lobotomizing myself or eviscerating anyone else. Just as long as there are no tuna-pocalypse moments when I’m sandwiching tomorrow. Cross them fingers, would y’all? Also, please be kind to baristas this holiday season. If it isn’t Starbucks, don’t order a “Venti,” because I will give you a large. Know your drink order. And for the love of bacon, remember that I am not a goddamn slave, okay? Please?

Don’t piss off the people that make your extra hot extra dry no foam skinny soy sugarfree vanilla pumpkin latte with a drizzle of caramel on top. Just don’t.

On that note, I think it’s about time that I bake some cookies and wrap up this post. I didn’t intend to write this much today but oh well, at least it’s not all swirling around in my head. Have fantastic weeks, readers. I’ll be back with another post lickety split.

Until then,

Gratuitous cute:

b’awwwzzz.

 

For now,

Wallace, out.

 

“The high road, not ’cause of the drugs we take; but the memories we keep and the friends we make.”

Happy Tuesday, blogoverse.

I hope y’all had fantastic long weekends and are attacking this week well rested and ready to kick some ass.

I’m having a rough morning. No, not because of the fact that I’ve been awake since 5:06 am. I got word through Facebook that yet another friend of mine has been ripped from the earth far too young. I don’t know what exactly happened as of yet (it’s still to early for any of my friends to be awake, let alone answering texts), but I know that the grey, drizzly weather matches my cold and dreary mood just perfectly. Not sure how exactly I’m going to get through this shift without letting the carefully crafted façade of impenetrable pleasantness I’ve put up for myself crack. I feel like a superheated glass fresh out of a too-hot washing machine-whole, but with the very real potential to splinter into a million little pieces if anybody so much as looks at me the wrong way. It’s going to be a long eight hours of smiling-I’m pulling deep from the depths of my acting skills today already.

I’m sitting on the bus now on my way to the aforementioned long ass shift. I feel removed from it all, like I’m the narrator in the story of my life. People watching – there’s a Canada Post delivery person, some construction workers, a keen high school student. It’s not enough to distract me this morning. I keep letting my mind wander to the how’s and the whys of my friend being dead.

It sounds so cold when I say it like that. The truth actually hurts to verbalize. This is the tenth time in two years that I’m saying goodbye for the last time to someone who deserves life more than I do.

Anyways, it’s my stop up next.
For now,

Wallace out.

One For The Books

Hello dear readers,

Happy Saturday to you all! Hopefully, you got out and enjoyed your days – it was a beautiful one here in the 250 – hot and humid and sunny as all hell, just the way I like it!

I had a fucking HELL of a time falling asleep last night. I think I came down off the shock of hearing about my friend’s passing and started feeling it after my (supposedly) bedtime bowl, so after kissing Vega goodnight, I sat on the couch for a few hours, television on but not paying attention, Visa cuddled up on my lap. For the first time in months I just let myself cry and it was a total out of body experience, sitting there still and numb and sad and broken and feeling it. Really feeling it, the weight of it, of past mistakes and transgressions, of mistakes made and friends laid to rest, of enemies and drugs, of Harleys and Hell, beatings both verbal and physical. I have lived a life that has made me cold; however, I think I’m starting to truly thaw in the warmth of the promise of a future I never dreamed would be mine. I cried, and I laughed, and I remembered…and then I let a lot of it go. Don’t get me wrong, it’s never gone, but there comes a time when you really have to accept the past and put it back in its place; that is, as a guiding light to remind you who you are, who you were, and where you want to be.

Anyways, the point of it all is that I’d be a liar if I told you that I’m over my friend’s death, because I’m not. I’m sad, I’m angry, and I’m grieving; however, I’m happy to be alive, to be free, to be happy and healthy and loved. My friend’s death is not in vain – she’ll forever inspire me to enjoy every minute that much more. Life is fleeting, and I feel that we all take that for granted too much and too often. Live, truly live, and be grateful that you’re alive and can do so.

I fell asleep at like 5:30 in the morning, and I had the craziest happiest dreams. When I rolled over this morning and saw the love of my life next to me everything made perfect sense, and I snuggled up next to him after hitting the snooze button with a grin on my lips and an elevated heartrate. I am the luckiest woman alive. Vega STILL gives me butterflies (and I have a feeling that he always will).

We finally got out of bed around 1:00, had a cup of coffee and a few cigarettes, then I showered and got dressed (in some amazingly obnoxious fluorescent pink jeans) and had a rip and a smoke before heading off to the Westrock Tattoo Convention in Saanich. We got there and were both giddy as could be, artist shopping and portfolio ogling. I managed to get my shitty old prison-style tatt fixed up by the wonderful mister Mike from Incendiary Tattoos (they’re in Esquimalt, and if you’re looking for trad, Mike’s your guy) for a nominal fee. Of course, we knew some of the same folks, and had a good laugh while I was getting touched up. Aside: real tattoo machines hurt a fuck ton less than Bic pens with jury-rigged motors do. Anyways. Vega also found an unbelievably talented artist who is in the running for the prestige of tattooing a large portion of my handsome man, and it was overall a great expo full of wonderful art, lots of inspiration, and some serious talent. Big ups.

Madchild also performed this evening, which was a MAJOR highlight of the day for this girl. Special guest Slain from La Coka Nostra tore up the stage as well as Ad Lib; however, Mad killed it. Like, slaughtered it. The crowd was small and mostly tweenies, I got waved up to the front of the stage via security (after a knowing little nod was passed forth from the ill villain) and got a handshake, a wink, and a smile before my favorite track off the album was played. You guys, “It Gets Better” almost brought me to tears this evening – the entirety of this year has been a turning point for me; however, that was a lynchpin kind of moment. It DOES get better, it really does. Plus, it’s kind of fun having enough cred to have security put you front and (slightly off-)center. There are few perks to the lifestyle I used to lead, and I don’t mind a little VIP treatment here and there as  fallout. Hah.

Now, we’re at home and relaxing – Vega is cooking us up some steaks and yam fries (which smell AMAZING, by the by), I kind of want to hit the bong (scratch that, I will be hitting the bong), and though I still feel kind of messy and sad and down, I also feel at peace.

I am truly, deeply, seriously grateful for how my life turned out. And no, I’m not trying to “be a martyr,” as my mom would claim; however, I’m happy that I carry the weight of it all with me everywhere I go. I don’t think I’d get as much unbridled joy and appreciation out of things now if it weren’t for the shit I put myself through back then.

Anywhore. This post is becoming too personal and circular and I think it’s high time (ha!) that I take my introspective bullshit outside and mull it over while I float away on strange clouds.

For now,

Wallace, out.

Life’s a Bitch And Then You Die.

“You don’t know death […] until you’ve seen it, really seen it. It gets under your skin and lives inside you.” (skins)

Hello readers,

I am forewarning you that I am in a foul mood this evening. If you’re looking for happy funtime, this is the wrong venue.

Anyways.

I got word today that another one of my good friends has passed away far too soon. The news came via Facebook, where I was mindlessly passing the time on my iphone and stumbled upon the obituary. That led to a text being sent to a few mutual acquaintances, which led to confirmation. It hit me like a fucking ton of bricks – but at the same time, there was the saving grace of having been in the car with Vega and his mama. I think I’m still in shock, to be perfectly honest. I got home, finished the cup of coffee in my hands and smoked a bowl. I know something’s wrong and I know that I’m hurting, but I can’t feel any of it. I can’t feel it anymore.

This year alone I have said goodbye to eight people whom I was proud to have known. The past five years? Over twenty five of my friends. That’s. Fucking. Wrong. Obviously, the past situations and circumstances I found myself in made me somewhat used to that level of loss – being where I am now, I find myself floundering with it all. I mean, what if I were to die tomorrow? I’d leave too many people behind to hurt because of me, and at the same time, I’d not be leaving behind anything of a legacy. That used to inspire me to dream bigger, do more, be bolder – and now I find myself fucking terrified. I find myself making plea bargains with the universe, to take me instead of the people who are genuinely good and who deserve to be here. I find myself unable to cry and sadder than I knew I could be at that very fact.

It’s days like these that make it a little easier for me to sympathize with those who are religious. This whole situation would be instantly made a lot simpler if I believed that there was some fluffy afterlife to look forward to, some cosmic plan which rendered the loss of an incredible human being necessary; however, as I sit here slowly realizing the clusterfuck of emotions that is currently settling at the back of my throat and manifesting tears in my eyes, it’s occurring to me that the barebones fact of the matter truth is that life’s a bitch, and then you die.

Life’s bitchiness also tends to be the reason why we build strong friendships – everything’s a little easier with good friends – and the hypocrisy of the futility of human life is sometimes so unbelievably brutal…

I feel so lost sometimes. I feel guilty because I want to be able to shut the negative thoughts in my head off and just be lost in the happiness of domestic life with the love of my life. I hate knowing that he’s worried about me and feeling this loss through my sadness, though he never got to meet my dear friend. I miss the playground days of catching bugs and seemingly-infinite summer vacations. Perhaps I’m getting old – but I’m starting to understand it when people say that youth is wasted on the young.

Anyways. I just needed to vent – and I do feel better with some of that out of my head. I think tonight is going to be mostly comprised of Skins, dinner, and Mary Jane. Tomorrow is going to be a much-needed release. I can’t wait to see Mad performing. It’ll be good to get my mind off things.

Rest in paradise, my dear, dear girl. Thank you for being a friend when I needed one most.

For now,

Wallace, out.

Overdue Update + A Roadtrip Pictorial

Hello Blogoverse!

Happy Thursday to you all! I apologize for my lapse in regular posting; between getting settled in our new place and getting to know my future in-laws, it’s been a crazy few days! I hope the week has been treating y’all right so far. If not, here’s some gratuitous cute to make you smile!

Meeeeeow!

Anywhore, I’m sure y’all are chomping at the bit for details on the adventure out to the 250! On Friday of last week, Vega and I picked up the U-Haul in the morning, got some Wendy’s, and (after nomming, natch) got the majority of our belongings packed up and ready to go.

We didn’t even have this guy halfway full. Gotta love the freedom that comes with purging a whole bunch of stuff!

In the evening, Veggie, Chef and Mouth came by to have a beer and to say our final goodbyes, which was lovely and (as always) lots of fun. We sat on the floor pow-wow style and sipped Oatmeal Stout, and there was plenty of laughter and good memory making and gratitude for the amazing friends and good times that the five of us had together in the 403. I’m pretty exceptionally lucky that way – the good folks in my life are truly the very best.

Counter-clockwise from bottom: Mia, Vega, Visa, Veggie, Chef, and Mouth

Saturday morning, we woke up, had a coffee, and got a serious move on. Once everything was loaded into the U-Haul, we said our goodbyes to the old house, Visa enjoyed one last stint in his favorite patch of weeds (ahem, flowers…)…

Soakin’ up some UV rays

…and we were on our way! We hit the road shortly after noon, which put us way ahead of our initial schedule.

ROADTRIP!

The drive was surprisingly straightforward – we’d been bracing ourselves for terrible traffic – between the flooding in Calgary and the fact that it was Canada Day long weekend, we’d anticipated a long haul; however, the only bit of traffic we encountered was in Canmore, and even that was only about a half hour delay.

“Road trippin’ with my two favorite allies/
Fully loaded, we got snacks and supplies/
It’s time to leave this town/
It’s time to fade away/
Let’s go get lost in BRITISH COLUMBI-A!”

We had a great time taking and laughing and bullshitting about the future, Vega and I. It never ceases to amaze me how we always seem to be able to talk for hours on end – I suppose that’s one of the many, many major perks of being engaged to your best friend. When words became thin, we’d pass the time listening to metal and enjoying the scenery. If you’ve never made the drive from Calgary to Vancouver, do it. It’s simply STUNNING.

We live in such a gorgeous world. Salmon Arm, BC

 

We made it to Kelowna and pulled over for some food and to let Poochie Fantastico go pee, then it was back on the road to Vancouver underneath the gorgeous sunset. It was truly beyond beautiful, the skies looked like something from a watercolour painting.

Magical.

We made it to Vancouver around midnight, and having missed the last ferry out to Victoria by a mere two hours, we decided to cruise Tsawassen for a potential pet-friendly hotel for the evening. Following a slight GPS snafu (Google Maps decided that we wanted to cross the border into the USA, so we had a rather hilarious encounter with a rather confused border guard), we established that there was no such available hotel room, so we parked the U-Haul and passed out (well..) for a couple of hours (note: it is bloody near impossible to get comfortable in a 10′ U-Haul). We woke up at quarter to five in the morning, and by 5:15, we were watching the sunrise in Tsawassen and en route to the ferry.

Good way to start a morning!

A few minutes later, we were the first vehicle in line to board the 7:00 boat. We were dying for caffeine and food, so we promptly found Starbucks and got some Venti dark roasts and bagels with cream cheese.

Coffee coffee coffee coffee. And a very tired (albeit excited as fuck) Wallace.

Before I knew it, we were on board the M.V. Spirit of British Columbia, pulling away from Tsawassen and making our way towards Victoria.

The ferry ride is always one of my favorite parts of the trip – it’s just so peaceful and pretty, watching the scenery and the birds.

I’m a sucker for the blue skies and the blue ocean and the smell of the salty ocean air.

 

Naught but three cigarettes later, it was time to disembark – we’d actually MADE IT to the island. Lots of “WOOHOO”-ing and excited smiles ensued.

WOOHOO!

 

A half hour drive later, we’d arrived at View Royal, where mama and papa Vega’s house is. You guys, this place is off the damn chain.

This is looking up towards the house from the dock. INSANELY gorgeous; both the house, and the surrounding landscape.

We unloaded the U-Haul in less than half an hour with papa Vega’s help, then enjoyed a beer (or three) on (one of) the patio(s) underneath the sunshine.

Patio, beers, cigarettes. Perfection.

A few hours later, we were passing out in our chairs, so we took a short nap before having dinner with Vega’s parents and his baby brother. We had a fantastic meal (Thai food = nomnomnomnom), chatted for a while after the sun had gone down, then called it a night. I don’t remember the last time I passed out that hard! The next morning, Canada Day, I woke up in a semi-confused state of “where the fuck am I? Was that all a dream?” before looking out the window and seeing this:

I live in paradise, fo’rillz.

…which was basically the most amazing reaffirmation that this is, in fact, my life. I’m a lucky, lucky girl. Anyways. After a coffee,

coffee coffee coffee coffee.

we went and returned the U-Haul, then came home and enjoyed good conversation with mama and papa V before heading out to the 4-Mile Pub for a lovely little date night and a nummy meal.

That’s a mixed green salad with balsamic vinaigrette + a chicken, avocado, tomato, edam, and garlic aioli on focaccia sandwich. A+ meal. A++ dinner company (Vega, natch)!

Then, we came home and watched the sunset over the water and reveled in our new surroundings.

Pictures just don’t do this place justice.

We fell asleep happy and buzzed from the sunshine and the beer. The next day, my 23rd birthday, we woke up to a gorgeous, sunny, hot morning. Vega and I had a smoke and a coffee, then he had to resume his usual working days. I capitalized on the heat and the solitude by heading out to the dock armed with cigarettes, a book, and my iPhone (music, natch), and spent 5.5 hours sunning myself and napping intermittently.

Best possible way to celebrate another year alive.

I also got a lovely card from my lovely love, and a lovely card from my future in-laws:

Meep

When the workday was over, Vega, mama Vega and I headed down to the 4-Mile for a birthday dinner (this time, crab cake salad – which I hoovered before I remembered to snap a picture. Oops), then we came home and read in bed (note: Damned by Palinhuk. Hilarious) before passing out, sun-baked, full, and all smiles.

Unrelated photo! I also painted my toenails and wore my new summer kicks. Gratuitous shoe porn > pictures of me in my jammies!

Yesterday was a repeat of Tuesday, I basically did nothing but suntan all day long. I am getting browner by the day, which Vega seems to enjoy (possibly more than I do haha!). We had dinner, then went to Superstore for necessities (pork, eggs, coconut milk, oils, spices, coffee press, pot, pan, forks, knives, spoons…). Got home, unpacked, then went on a quest for beer, which we enjoyed on the porch. We were enjoying some downtime in our suite, when my mother pulled one of her infamous passive aggressive moves on me. I’m not proud of it, but I cried for a long while on Vega’s shoulder before realizing that she’s really only lashing out at me because she’s jealous. It’s pathetic, really, but there’s nothing I can do about her behaviour. Hell, I’d be jealous of me, too. I ROCK a bikini like no one’s business.

The most skin you’ll ever see from me on EIB22. I love my itsy bitsy, teeny weeny, pink and white and black bikini 🙂

 

Today, I woke up with Vega, he went to work, and I made brekky (eggs and yam hash, standard fare), which we enjoyed together. I then put our clothes away, took a shower, and had coffee on the deck. Then, a good friend of mine who happened to be on the island came by with her kiddos, and we enjoyed a good laugh and swapped some stories on the dock. It was great to see them! When they’d gone, I popped dinner in the oven (pork roast, roasted eggplant and red cabbage coleslaw) and started this post. Before I knew it, two hours had gone by, dinner was ready to mow down on, and Vega was finished work for the day. We nomnomnommed and then enjoyed a smoke and a beer on the dock. Now, I’m here. I’m right where I am supposed to be, and I couldn’t be happier. We’re debating the possibility of a walk with Visa before bedtime. I’m uncertain as of this moment whether we’ll be accomplishing that, or continuing the trend of sipping craft beer and being lazy.

I didn’t take pictures today. So this little segue sentence will have to placate you.

Anywhore, that’s pretty much everything that’s gone down in the last few days. We’re elated and still adjusting to our new surroundings, but from what I can garner, this was the right choice for the two (three including Visa) of us. Life’s good. Island time is brilliant. My new hometown is spectacular.

I still wake up and have to pinch myself to make sure I’m not dreaming. If you would have told me a year ago that this is where life would take me, I’d have laughed in your face.

Anywho, I’m going to call this a post and go snuggle with my handsome man.

Gratuitous cute:

 

 

 

For now,

Wallace (and her tan lines), out.

 

 

 

 

It’s The Final Countdown (insert guitar solo here)!

Hello, blogosphere!

Happy Sunday to you! Hopefully your weekend has been relaxing and dry (403 friends, we had some batshit cray cray weather this week, no?)

Calgary flooding – INSANE! Hats off to Nenshi for handling the situation like a champ. Vega and I were lucky not to be evacuated, high ground has advantages for sure. Photo courtesy of the National Post.

On a serious note, I genuinely do hope that you’re all safe and sound and unaffected by the flood damage. Be safe out there, and for the love of Jeebus, don’t tempt fate – this is obviously not the time to be bridge jumping or canoeing (seriously, read a story about some “brilliant” 403-dwellers this morning).

Anyways. It’s been a relatively quiet week. Tuesday we spent the evening hanging out with Scissors, which was of course a great time. Veggie and Chef got evacuated on Thursday due to the flood, so they came over for a little bit and we chatted about life and watched Bullshit!. Friday night, we went and hung out at Mouth’s place with him, Veggie and Chef – Greg the Bunny and good friends is always a recipe for laughs. Brother W’s birthday was yesterday (lots to say there, will hold on to that for a future post) and I succeeded in fucking up my sleep pattern royally. After sleeping until 9:30 last night, I awoke to my lovely love and coffee and “Penn and Teller Tell A Lie”. We lounged around for a couple hours, then decided that it was time for food. Took a walk down to our usual haunt (which was packed to the gills – save water, drink beer!), then made a secondary trek to another pub a few blocks in the opposite direction. We had a great meal and a couple of pints, and spent a good long while throwing ideas around for our pending wedding. Not something we tend to do a lot of; however, I’m definitely warming to the idea, and it’s both fun and overwhelming (still!) to start thinking about the wedding part of the whole getting married thing. At  the end of the day, I still firmly maintain that the wedding essentially doesn’t matter–after all, as long as I get forever after with my Vega, everything else is secondary–but all the same, happy exciting times are in our futures. So much good unfolding! Such a happy blogmistress. Speaking of which..

WE’RE IN THE HOME STRETCH!!!

A week. One measly, short little week and Vega and I will be on the road heading towards beautiful British Columbia. Talk about an exciting realization – this time next week I’ll be sitting shotgun in a U-Haul! Vega and I are pretty well set to go already – we did a walkthrough this evening and put a few last items in boxes, and besides our clothes, we’re packed! The final Kijiji push is on (seriously, anybody need a car? Tattoo equipment? A guitar?!), last minute errands are getting checked off the proverbial to-do list, and things are falling nicely into place. Despite all the overwhelming evidence to the contrary, this all feels too good to be true. It’s such an exciting time for us right now my poor cranium can barely process it all. Life’s fucking spectacular, folks. I’m so very glad to have held on through the bullshit – this moment, the future that’s on the horizon, the adventures Vega and I are about to undergo? SO FUCKING WORTH IT. Record breaking amounts of happy dancing and woohoo! moments have been happening.

^ Me, right now.

Today is going to be spent running errands with Vega before hitting the hay early (like I said, all nighter again..6:00pm sounds like the perfect bedtime!) so that we can kick off the week on a productive note. I have to venture downtown to pick up my contact lenses, which should be an adventure considering that downtown is basically shut down right now, transit wise, due to the train tracks being washed out in the flooding. I am bracing myself for lots of shuttles and transfers, but it’s allllll okay by me at this point. Everything is okay by me right now, even the things that really aren’t. My parents, my past, my baggage – it’s all so soon to be left behind that it isn’t worth my stressing over anymore. It’s the strangest sense of relief and peace – I am not used to this; however, I think I soon will be. I can’t wait for next week. Best birthday present EVER, Vega. I fucking love the hell out of you!

For now, I’m off to be productive. More soon, lots to be said.

Gratuitous cute:

Wallace, out.

 

“The universe works on a math equation/ That never really ends in the end”

Happy Sunday, blogoverse!

Hopefully your weekends have been relaxing and fun – Vega and I are pulling an infamous all-nighter this evening, so I figured it was the perfect time for me to update y’all on how things are going and get a few things off my wee chest. It’s been an interesting couple of days for sure, and hell – how better to spend a night than writing (intermittently) anyways?

This captures me pretty well.

Yesterday night was lots of fun – we had Veggie, Chef and Mouth over and spent the evening watching shit on YouTube and talking about life. Those are by far three of the best people I’ve ever met – Vega, you’re awesome and you have amazing friends (that are now my friends, too). Basically the only thing that makes me somewhat hesitant about moving are my friends – the aforementioned three Musketeers, Scissors, Brother W, Dee…there are definitely some fantastic people who I’m going to miss very much. Hopefully, they’ll come out and visit us on the island. It’s pretty badass knowing that they’re all rooting for Vega and I though – life goes on, things shift and evolve, and people move – the people that matter; however, will remain in your life regardless of where you may be. This much, I have learned to be true (30+ moves in 5 years gives me the authority to speak on this matter), and the truth is, I’m lucky enough to be surrounded by the world’s freakin’ best. It’s extra badass that these folks have our backs, regardless of physical proximity. I love you guys, each and every one. I don’t tell my friends this enough. The last week has served as a brutal but necessary reminder for me (and for us all, really) to do so. Thank you, all of you, who’ve been there through the worst and for the best.

E-hugs for everyone I love ❤

Today started at 5:07pm, when I finally rolled over in my lovely love’s arms and got a smile and a kiss. Best way to start the day, hands down. We had a cup of coffee and a smoke over an episode of The Simpsons, then got dressed and made pilgrimage to Safeway for necessities (pork chops, pork roast, pesto-making supplies, and paleo-dessert-making supplies). When we got home, Vega made the aforementioned pesto (fucking delectable, Vega wins at sauces), I made the aforementioned dessert (chocolate-coconut-almond butter bars), and then dinner (pork chops with pesto and cabbage/broccoli sauté), which we ate while watching “RIP: A Remix Manifesto” (which, by the way, centers around my buddy Greg, aka Girl Talk). Following noms, Vega did some packing, I re-listed stuff on Kijiji, and we’ve been listening to the sweet sounds of the ’90s. Since we got both those to-do’s crossed off our respective lists, Vega has been working away and I’ve been blogging away. Our night, my friends, is still very young indeed. We’re doing this all-nighter thing out of necessity; Vega has a course to attend early in the morning, and we have a shitpile of random things to finish before the move.

our battle cry, Vega!

I don’t mind being nocturnal so much, especially when it’s in the name of making progress with the pending move. I can barely believe it’s only eleven days away…It’s such an exciting promise, a clean break and a fresh start. I think Vega’s getting pretty excited himself (albeit a touch apprehensive, which is completely understandable!), and it’s pretty ridiculously badass that our summer is going to be spent putting down our roots in our new city, making new friends and having new adventures together. In fact, the best birthday present I could ever fathom is soon to be a reality – that is, dream city, dream man, dream life; mine and Vega’s for the taking and the making. It spins my head still on a consistent basis that this is, in fact, my life. How I got so lucky in so many ways? I still don’t know. I kind of don’t care to at this juncture, life requires some mystery and wonder even as an adult. Growing older? Inevitable. Growing up? Optional.

WOOP WOOP! IT’S (almost) GO TIME!

It’s also been somewhat a frustrating few days bearing a few family issues in mind. First of all, Father’s Day. I hate it; and no, not because I hate my father. What I hate about it is much harder to explain, but since I have the time and it’s weighing heavy on my mind, I’m sure as fuck going to try. I don’t think my dad envisioned life as a father when he was my age. From what I know of my dad, he would have been content as hell living his life simply, a single (not necessarily alone, just not married with kids) man who had all the time in the world to work. Now, don’t misconstrue this – he was a great dad in the sense that he always provided for us, and undoubtedly loves his family. However (and this is a big however), he’s also never made any illusions about his role as a parent – he maintained from a very early point in my life that as long as I grew up to be a good person and an independent woman, his job would effectively be done and he would effectively cease and desist. “If we grow up to be friends,” he’d say, “bonus. If not, I’m still happy as long as you’re capable and happy.” Those words used to haunt me as a kid, long before I even thought about leaving home. I couldn’t fathom a world without my dad, my hero. I made myself worry sick about that for years. What if I grew up and he didn’t like me? What if his prophecy came to be? Life went on, and indeed we have had our differences. I look back now, and I mourn for the little girl I used to be, for the best friend I used to have in my dad. I know he loves me to this very day, but it tears me up inside every single fucking Father’s day – as always, he was right. I wish in many respects that this wasn’t the case. I still love you, Pops. I am sorry for the mistakes of my past, but I refuse to apologize for who I have become. I wish that wasn’t an it all end all situation for us as it stands. If there is anybody I miss in this world, it’s you, Dad.

I always loved this song, but it makes so much more sense at this juncture in life than it ever did as a kid..

Second on the docket of happy family issues is that of trying to calmly and rationally and respectfully broach the subject of my disinterest in trying to achieve the impossible: that is, a peaceful and bullshit free dinner date with my parents. Believe me, it would fill me with immense joy to sit down and have an uneventful, pleasant meal with my folks; however, the sad truth is that this just won’t be the case. I have moved on, forgiven my parents, (in large part) forgotten about the things that hurt me deeply for a very long time. Unfortunately, my parents (my mother, especially) refuse to put the past in the past. Granted, I’ll hear that it’s in the past and where it should be, but I’ve played this game before. Things always start pleasant enough, and then somewhere during the appetizer, invariably my fuck ups, my transgressions and my failures get brought up in some way or another. There is no appropriate response to this (I’ve learned) other than my silence, my bowed head, my acceptance of the re-opening of wounds decades deep. Now, if I accept it silently, I am doing myself and everything I have built for myself by myself a disservice; however, if I bring to the table their fuck ups, their transgressions, and their failures, I am instantly an idiot, or delusional, or (and I quote) “refusing to take ownership of my life”. Sorry Mom, you make the world’s most delicious beef Stroganoff, but not even that is going to be enough to make me put us all through the wringer again. It isn’t fair to anybody – you included – for me to willingly accept an invitation to something that is forced, awkward, and unpleasant at very best. When you actually forgive me, as I’ve forgiven you, let me know. We can possibly and potentially work from there. But, as it stands, you aren’t there yet, and that’s okay. I can’t rush you, I can only hope that maybe the day will come when you read this and truly feel the way I do. The resentment you hold in your heart is so painfully obvious to me that it seems more prudent to distance myself for the time being. Growing up sucks, you’re definitely right about that. In regards to my relationship with both you and Dad, I long deeply for the easy days of my childhood. You were both my heroes, you know that, right?

“Little Miss Sunshine” says it all better than I can.

Ho hum. I think that’s enough family drama for the time being. There is of course more which I mull over all the goddamned time, but it’ll come out in the was on its own time. I’ve never actually taken the time to write about the prior two issues – they’re always there, but I usually try not to let myself wallow too much for too long. Old habit, needs to end. I’m taking baby steps here, guys. Sitting here in tears after finally getting all of that off of my chest is painful – more painful than I can even begin to describe – but it’s absolutely motherfucking necessary for my sake. I may have found it in me to forgive, but that comes along with a massive gaping black hole where my heart should be. Time to heal up, time to get stronger, and time to move forwards in my life. I can’t change people, but I can sure as hell change how people affect me, and how I allow those affectations to translate into my daily life. No more sadness from here on out, time to live the life I’ve always assumed was so far out of my grasp that I dared not to even dream of it. As I sit here, listening to the sounds of my angsty preteen days (back when I lived in my bedroom at my parent’s house, hours of my life behind that closed door with Queens of the Stone Age playing and an art project on the go), I am equal parts melancholic and relieved. I made it, and I made it here in large part on my own. They gave me the tools, but I built this person, this life, and this future. If they can’t be proud of that, then maybe I did make some sage decisions at a young age.

fuckin’ eh.

Also on my mind today, my lingering frustration over having had my running schedule all fucked up thanks to the deathcold that I’ve recently (knock on wood) slayed with the assistance of the better part of a week spent in bed with NyQuil and Fisherman’s Friend. I’m a week behind, I’m still stuffed up and coughing, and I feel like going out for a five miler tomorrow would be both an exercise in futility and a horrible setback for me. So, I’ve made an executive decision (trust, the non-executives aren’t thrilled), which is that I am putting the summer running challenge on hold until Vega and I are safe and sound in the 250. As much as the decision pains me, it also is the wise thing to do. I need to heal up and get to 100% for the move, and it isn’t fair nor productive for me to force myself to run when I am feeling shitty still. Underwhelming runs will only lead me to depression. So. The flipside of this is that I am also going to re-launch the challenge for those who’d like to run it with me – keep your eyes peeled for the official announcement of such in early July. Until then, I’m sticking with a shit ton of Yoga and some casual (short) runs (when my lungs clear up, I’m still hawking some gnarly loogies).

Yoga LOLz

Anywhore, that’s about where I’m at today. Still hurt and still hurting from last week’s loss, still reeling over the appropriate manner in which I should attempt relations with my family, still excited as fuck about Victoria. In short, I’m exactly where I should be – given that so much is about to change for the better, I firmly believe that it’s just the way of the world that in the meantime I’m preoccupied with the less than savory (and still open) wounds of my past. Vega and I are both works in progress, and it’s part of what I love the most about our relationship. Separately, we’re both two individuals with plenty of cracks; however, put us together, and we’re stronger than anything life can throw at us. It’s something I certainly don’t take for granted, and the reason why I want to work on my flaws. I want to be better, not only for myself, but for him – for us. The excess baggage of days long past isn’t something easy to cast aside, but I’m working on it; exactly the same way he’s working on himself, and precisely why we work together so damned well. I really want to start working seriously on my book when I get out to BC. I think the simple action of writing it out will help so immensely it makes me smile; and it finally, finally feels like I’m ready to start this life-long dream project of mine.

I foresee plenty of this in my future – writing is truly a challenge, even for the most talented writers.

For now my friends, I’m going to call this a post and go take a shower. Plenty to do tomorrow, and I hate going out with wet hair.

Gratuitous cute:

For now,

Wallace, out.

On Rain, Running, and Resilience.

Hello blogoversse – happy weekend to y’all!

I suggest taking a page from our (us being Vega and I, natch) book and kicking things off right with a cold brew and a good movie (in our case, Wild Rose Brown Ale (note: yum) and “Heavy Metal” (fuck yeah, Taarna. Fuck yeah, Loc-Nar. Fuck yeah, soundtrack.) respectively). It’s all about the little things.

preferably, do not crack a beer that’s been through a paint shaker.

So, after this morning’s update, I did indeed manage to suck back another two cups of delicious lifeblood (or coffee, in the English vernacular), and while Vega didn’t quite get brekky in bed, he did wake up to our standard (albeit delightful) morning fare of eggs over easy and yam hash browns (didn’t end up going fancy with it – spent too much time on Runners World forums and getting my stuff together for the day). After sustenance, I managed to make myself presentable and had some much needed couch snuggles with my love and the poochie before G showed up so we could go and rock out another successful day promoting and helping run the production.

In true Calgary fashion, it rained. All day long. I suppose it’s all right on schedule (we’ve already had winter, second winter, and our requisite three days of spring – now rain, then construction season). We ended up having to cancel the first show of the day, so we rocked it out at the booth (note: marathon expo is a bad place for my pocketbook – between compression socks and nifty heart rate monitors, I’ve drained my mental bank account) with lots of laughter, some interpretive running, and the sacrifice of virgins and goats in the hopes of appeasing the weather Gods (okay, slight hyperbole. We sacrificed virgin goats. Virgins are hard to come by this close to Stampede in the 403). To our surprise and great benefit, they accepted our sacrifices, and the 7:00 showing went on – in the less brutal downpour, along the river and through the streets, with an audience made of gold, a performer akin to Wonder Woman, a director made of badassery, and a crew member with a sexy new skullcap (me).

all. day. long.

MJ absolutely slayed the performance this evening. It is no easy feat to convince yourself to run when the weather is less than perfect; however, to run, act, dance, and play tag in suboptimal weather with the energy and enthusiasm and conviction that she brought to the table tonight takes a truly amazing human being. The opportunity to work alongside such talented and dedicated people (MJ herself, the wonderful and hilarious director of the show, my good friend and production assistant who can MacGyver anything imaginable with a wicked smile, and the two other crew members who make booth time simply fabulous) makes me happy to be alive. Tonight’s show truly, deeply touched me – I’ll never forget it, and I’m beyond excited to get to do it all over again (hopefully in less of a downpour, for MJ’s sake) for the next week and a half. A definite high point to my day, and a wonderful way to conclude the majority of it.

Following the show, I made my way home (grinning like a fool the whole way, of course), and was greeted (and warmed up) by Vega and Visa and more coffee. Vega got dinner together for the two of us, we cracked a brew or three, and I even remembered to do my laundry for tomorrow (please oh please oh please dry by tomorrow, dear Ugg boots. You’re my only hope for navigating the inevitable puddles with semi-dry feet). Following food and a shower, you’re all caught up on the minutia of my day. Given how it started (see previous post), I am more than delighted with this conclusion.

I am starting to be driven slightly insane by my completely gratuitous usage of parentheses in my posts. I do not; however, anticipate this trend going away anytime soon. Bigger fish to fry and all that jazz.

Anyways. Tonight got me thinking (once again) about how it is that I’ve gotten to be where I am at this juncture in my life. Once again, I’ve come to the conclusion that running is in big part the glue that holds me together; and at the same time, the very thing that rips me to shreds on a consistent basis. Listening to the monologue on our “specialized audio devices” tonight while enjoying the drizzle (I am one of those sick people who genuinely adores the rain, more on that tangent in a moment) – the story of a runner, the trials and tribulations and successes and victories and the good runs and the tough runs (in both the sport and in life) – I think for the first time, I truly began to realize how far my beloved sport has taken me. This is something more than miles, more than the blisters I’ve had or the collection of calluses I now wear like a badge of honor on the soles of my feet. This is more than the sacrifices I’ve made in terms of my social life, or my diet; more than the pain I’ve put myself through after hills or tempo runs, more than the race bibs and more than the competitors (I’m talking to you, Ponytail) that I’ve left behind in my wake.

Running has taught me not only how to be resilient in terms of my body. Running has taught me that I am, in and of myself, the strongest force known to mankind. When I could barely make it a half kilometer, I persevered – I had something to prove to myself, and before I knew it, I was running regular five kilometer routes for fun – in proving to myself that I could accomplish that, I found the strength to leave the KFP. I found the strength to demand respect for myself, the bravery to leave the man who held my heart captive in fear, not in love.

And when I was lonely, when I was broken and humiliated and back at my parents house, running pushed me further, the distances and intensity increased, the course of my life changed. I found the courage to re-define my notion of family for once and for all, to stop taking their abuses both physical and mental, to instead make myself more than I was and redefine my paradigm. With that came Sunshine, and with him came the truly long runs. In needing space from his constant and merciless bleeding of both my bank account and my soul, I found space for my thoughts and I truly discovered peace through the simple act of running further and longer and faster and harder. It wasn’t long before a 20 km run was legitimately more fun and more meaningful than my relationship. I made true and definite strides in regards to becoming more skilled at putting right foot in front of left that summer. I may have felt inconsequential at home at that point in time, but I was unstoppable on the highways and the back roads; I was free, I was safe, I was powerful.

And then came the day when Sunshine snuffed out my confidence (and put a major dent in my ability to train) with the help of a few lit cigarettes and some sordid souls he calls friends. When I lost running in that time, I saw myself fade away. Enter my refusal to eat, the muscles I’d worked so hard to build being eaten away to fuel my body as I refused to let a morsel of food touch my lips. I lost my soul, my health, my strength by allowing myself to think that I wasn’t deserving of my Nikes and my playlists, of the cadence of my feet slapping against the pavement, of the slow and wonderful burn in my quads as I logged another one-two-three-four-five thousand steps.

Those were the dark days. Those were the days of rain in my life. Truth is, I needed the rain, the storm clouds of self-hatred and doubt and despair. I needed the chance to wash away the things that were clouding my blue skies for the benefit of everybody in my life except for yours truly. Leaving that recovery ward was a new day – the rain stopped, the grass was greener, and the woman I am growing into had replaced the girl I was. Luctor et emergo – I struggle and emerge – I am resilient, whether I admit it to myself or not.

Once again, I am finding my stride, both in life and in my Lunarglides. I have lost strength and confidence and endurance; however, I am coming back stronger than I started, with the knowledge that the road, the pace, the peace that comes along with pushing myself through the bad miles and appreciating the beauty of the good ones, is all I need to weather any storm. On my recent virtual 5k, I ran through both beautiful sunny skies and stormy, dark clouds; and for the first time, I truly appreciated both the difficulty and the sheer bliss of running full speed ahead through deep puddles, with the raindrops flying off the tops of my shoes. Truth be told, that run was the most difficult one I’ve ever finished – not for the run itself (in fact, it was a PR breaking km time kind of run), but for what it put me through. It washed me clean, and I returned home victorious through my tears – I’m back, and I’m better than ever.

And much like and out-and-back hill day teaches you, the only place to go from here is up, over and over and over again.

On that note, I’m spent and hungry (again), so it’s more protein and leafy greens for this girl before I hit the hay and (hopefully) have a hell of a sleep.

More when there is more, and there always seems to be!

Wallace, out.