They say that most people can only dream in black and white

Hey blogosphere.

It is 11:52 pm and I just woke up absolutely terrified. I must have passed out, but I have absolutely no memory of doing so. Vega was beside me, deeply sleeping and visa was snuggled up on my feet, so luckily that calmed me down a little bit.

I’m still freaking out though. My heart will not stop pounding double time into overdrive.

Only one panic attack today. I guess it’s a good thing but it was the worst one yet. I have so many appointments in the next few days. Analyzing my blood and brain to medicate me into a safer place.

I finally feel my heart slowing. I’m snuggled right up to vega and he’s so warm and strong and safe. I feel my anxiety melt away when he’s next to me. That’s the crux of it all – the fear is overwhelming.

I’m afraid of everything.
All the time.

Do you have any idea how painfully, deeply exhausted I am?

My mind is racing tonight. I have a headache. The Advil is too far away to go and get though. It’s warm in bed. Don’t want to go to the kitchen. I want to fall asleep but my mind is too noisy. Maybe I’ll watch netflix on my phone. But then I’d have to download the app and remember the password. Too much work.

Seriously though. I’d love to just be able to close my eyes and resume that blackout but I can’t. I’m in insomnias hands now and I have a feeling that it is going to be a long night.

But I’m tired of my own thoughts so I’m gonna go read something.

For now,
Wallace out

Nerves, Novels, and Chamomile Tea.

Hello, blogoverse.

How were your Mondays? Mine was mostly uneventful – I got to sleep sometime around 6:15 in the morning (insomnia is kicking my ass lately), and Vega let me sleep until 2:30 in the afternoon, at which point Visa commenced puppy snugglings and I was roused from my (rather fitful) slumber. From there, I made myself some tea, put a pot of beans on the stove for dinner, and took a shower. Vega was finished work shortly after that, and we noshed while watching Orange is the New Black. Other than that? I got some art done, we had some hot cocoa (almond milk, natch), and watched the X-Files. Lazy day, which was necessary and appreciated.

Tomorrow (well, today) I have my final interview for the job I’m salivating like one of Pavlov’s dogs over. It’s just me and another candidate at this point, and I have to admit that I am a nervous lady right about now. I have the outfit all picked out (pink pencil skirt, white tank top with a slate cardigan over, black knee-high boots and my trusty leather jacket for good luck) and I know that I’m the best choice for the job…but I really don’t want to get my wee hopes up until I get the final callback. All that in mind, if you’ve got some spare good vibes to send my way, they’d be appreciated greatly. If all goes well, I’ll be sitting at that desk by Thursday morning.

As of this very moment, I’m cuddled up on the couch with the heater on and Visa at my side for warmth and snuggly-puppy-goodness. I’m writing mostly to unwind and try to get to bed soon here, there’s too much happening in my brain for me to lay down and rest right now. I feel almost bad for the “pointless” posts that have been the majority of my writing lately; but, as Spinnaker pointed out to me the other day, any and all writing I do right now is actively putting me closer to finishing my book. I don’t want to let myself get too amped on the prospect of my novel (because if I do, I’ll stay up all night writing), but it’s moved from the back burner of my mind to sizzling away at the forefront. I am planning a little writing date with myself after my interview, and I think I might start posting some of my edited freewriting here. Anyways, I was going to say that reading both Allie Brosh’s Hyperbole and a Half and Piper Kerman’s Orange is the New Black, I feel a renewed and powerful sense of faith and inspiration in my own story and the conquest of making it into a published tome. I love that conversational and frank memoirs are coming to the forefront of the literary world – maybe there is a hope in hell of my dreams of subsisting off of my ramblings… But, chickens and eggs. I have to write the damn thing first.

I’m also sipping on some chamomile and feeling inexplicably peaceful overall at the moment. There’s still a lot of messiness to me – I mean, I’m less than a year out of recovery, just over a year dealing with PTSD, and that’s just the tippy top of my mental iceberg. Most of the time I walk around feeling incredibly guilty, in particular when it comes to Vega. He’s so spectacular that words truly fail me when I try to find the right ones to describe him, and I feel like baggage a lot of the time. On the flip side, there are these moments (like right now) when it’s all so crystal clear and simple to me – I might be baggage, but he picked me up off the proverbial luggage claim, and I’m his because he wants me to be. It’s such a basic concept that I’m certain is painfully obvious to everyone else in the world; however, to me, it’s a lot to reconcile. I feel lucky and harmonious and peaceful, which is something I thought I’d lost for a long time. It’s reassuring and exhilarating to have it become more and more frequent, more ever-present, in my life once again. Life is good. My life is good. And Vega and I? Our life is idyllic.

Ughhhhh I’m so antsy and nervous and jittery about this interview…Hopefully my brains and my smile will make a fanfuckingtastic first impression. It’s such a crappy human condition to lose the ability to relax when we’re anxious about something. Of course I’m aware that being well-rested is a good thing the day of an interview, but here I am, wide awake and fighting nature. We’re badly engineered beasts, us humans.

Anywhore, if I have a hope in hell of getting to sleep in the next hour, I’d better put some background Netflix  on and read my book for a while. I’ll post some real writing tomorrow after my interview and my errands are done.

For now,

NERVOUS Wallace, out.

“Most people are better in the abstract.”

Hey, blogoverse. Happy early sunday morning to you all!

Insomnia’s found me again. It’s 2:40 in the morning, and I’m wide awake. No surprises there, and it’s not past the point of no return yet so I’m winding down with an episode of “Orange is the New Black,” and hoping that the Advil I just took will help my headache bugger off. Vega is snuggled up in bed, so it’s just Visa and I snuggled up on the couch together. Comfy cosy and warm inside on a grey, rainy evening. Nice and quiet, which is nice.

Vega and I had a good, productive day today. Woke up relatively early and headed to a coffee shop downtown to meet Vega’s coworker, M. M was moving from one place to the next, and we helped (along with a couple of his other friends) M get his furniture over from one place to the next in a couple relatively smooth trips before grabbing some dinner. Ate too much, laughed a bunch, and then M dropped us off at the liquor store at the bottom of the hill from our place. Vega grabbed us a bottle of wine, and we headed home.

Took a shower, doodled a bit while Vega read, then worked on getting my webstore all set up. I’m hoping to debut it in early December, but I have a lot of work to do. Luckily, I’ve also had a few brilliant brainwaves, and if all goes according to plan, might really be game changers for me. But. Can’t count the chickens just yet. Long day today, and I’m faraway in my thoughts. Quiet and grey, just like the weather.

Yesterday was a hard day. Yesterday was the anniversary of the worst fucking night of my whole goddamn life. What’s weird is that I kind of feel like I haven’t processed it yet. I was quiet yesterday, mopey. Had a headache that wouldn’t quit. Vega took me for dinner, and asked me what I was feeling. My answer last night is the same as it is now – I don’t know. I don’t know and it’s bothering me, deeply. Today I’m sad. Deeply, thoroughly sad; and angry, disappointed, melancholic, tired. I’m happy I decided to get up and go help M with Vega today, because I’m honestly getting pretty tired of being depressed. That’s the other weird and unfair thing about depression, even when you want to be over it sometimes, it just clings on to you and holds you down regardless of how much you try to fight it. Much like I did a year ago; and bringing my poorly thought out analogy full circle is the moment of acceptance – where I’m at now with the blues that have been keeping me company lately; that is, I know they’re not going to be 100% gone anytime, so, I’m just finding quiet moments of peace amidst the noisy brain stew. Anyway. I’m deep in my head today, have been all day. I hit a few scary dark corners earlier, but right now, I’m just resting in a quiet, dark nook.

4:35 am now. Nowhere closer to sleeping. That’s the biggest downside of getting lost in my thoughts. I close my eyes and I start to fall asleep and I start to lose control of my thoughts and nightmares come. That scares me enough to make me not want to go through it. Visa is next to me snoring away on the couch next to me; Vega is snuggled up warm in our bed. I’m going to attempt to self-medicate myself to sleep in a few minutes, maybe haul the laptop into the room with me and watch part of another episode. This show is strangely addicting and I’m really quite enjoying it.

I really don’t know what else there is to say. I’m..I don’t know. I’m here. And I think I’d like to be drinking tea and altered, so

for now,

Wallace, out.

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.

“Due to this evening’s failed attempt at sleep, tomorrow has been cancelled.”

Hello, readers!
I suppose the vast majority of you won’t be reading this until the morning, so in that vein, I hope your hump days are going reasonably well so far. It’s 4:04 in the morning, and I am wide the fuck awake. Not cool, internal clock. Not cool at all. I sprung out of bed about an hour ago with a nightmare, and I think I accidentally woke Vega up too, because he was coming in from a cigarette when I was coming out of the washroom. Sorry, Vega. I didn’t mean to wake you up, less be awake myself. The funny thing is that I don’t remember the nightmare at all, just waking up in a panicked huff needing to be out of bed ASAFP. So, here I sit on the couch now, Visa curled up beside me in a fuzzy little ball, nicotine craving in full swing. I’m going to attend to that as soon as I muster the strength to get outside into the chill of the evening (well, very early morning, same thing, really). I got three hours (not even) of sweet, sweet sleep before my brain decided that it was over. What gives? Up until this point, my depression was at least lending itself to some truly spectacular marathon sleep sessions. sigh.

I feel ya, bro.

Cigarette break. Back in a few.
ahhhh. That’s better. got my nic-fix and my strange clouds in too. My  stomach’s all out of whack to cap it all off–wasn’t hungry all day (forced some rice on myself after the last entry), then was ravenous at dinner (ate pizza with much happiness), and when I woke up just now, couldn’t keep anything down. Fun  never ends! At least the trees seem to be calming that side of things a little bit. I can’t figure out my mental state for the fucking life of me either – I’m overthinking everything, but thinking about nothing (if that makes any modicum of sense at all). I’m at once sad, angry, nostalgic, relieved, and a literal million other things; however, I feel so numb and far away from it all that it seems like too much effort to even feel anything at all. So I’m left with an upset tummy and a mind that can’t decide what to focus on, which is an unsettling combination in all senses of the term. I’d been planning on waking up before eleven, heading to a coffee shop and getting some writing done. I’m starting to think that what is more likely to happen is that I’m going to end up awake for the next who the fuck even knows how long, sleep through the vast majority of the day, wake up in time for dinner, and feel like absolute crap about “allowing” myself to have done so. Vega, if you read this before your lunch break and manage to wake me up when you come downstairs for food, that would be fanfuckingtastic. I wish so bad that I could focus on any one of the million things  swirling through my head right now long enough to make sense of it, but that seems to be a near impossibility. My thoughts are like the soap bubbles I used to blow as a kid – very real, but disappear into the ethos when you try and grab on.

and it’s driving me maaad.

D’aww. Visa is all curled up on my lap (which is making typing this both awkward and super adorable) and he’s snoring. There is really very little in the world that is cuter than a dog snoring, and my dog with his chubby little cute self all collapsed and deeeeep in puppy dreamland is certainly up there. Man oh man. Anyways. I’m still not 100% (obviously), and just when I thought I was making major strides in slogging through this blue period (i.e. the shower I took today (yesterday)?; plans with self to awake at a decent hour and get out of the house), my body and my brain put a right stop to it all. Maybe this is my body’s way of telling me to slow the fuck down for a few more days, today at very least, both physically and mentally. As much as I want to light a fire under my own ass and just get the hell over this slump already, I suppose  I’d be doing myself a disservice by not taking the time I need right now to be sad and get the fuck over it (or, at very least, move a lot further away from it) once and for all. It’s coming up on the anniversary of the worst night of my life sooner than I’d like to admit, and along with that comes a series of other completely life changing events – both good and bad – that I’ve yet to fully process. It’s clear as day when I write it out like that; I mean, I’m a tough girl, but even I have a limit to how much I can process before I just shut down and start filing things away in the dark dusty corners of my mind for review at a later date. And, I suppose I’ve just come to the point where I’ve reached the critical limit; that is, I’ve run out of dark dusty corners, and like it or not, it’s time to review those things I’ve been ignoring up until now right this  very fucking minute. It’s exhausting, mentally, physically, emotionally…hell, it’s even exhausting my dear Vega and that whole guilt spiral is one I probably shouldn’t get into right now because I’m just starting to feel the pull of the sandman and I’ll be damned if I think my way out of sleeping again tonight. I’m exhausted and exhausting. Somebody call Kurt Cobain and get his recipe for Pennyroyal tea.

sigh.

Quarter to five now. Do I smoke another few bowls, try to rely on the cannabinoids to put me out without too much tossing and turning? Do I say “fuck it,” make a pot of coffee, and get some writing done? Do I resume watching “Weeds” on Netflix and hope that I pass out without leaving my glasses on? Sigh. Present Mia is currently kicking Past Mia for being a lazy asshole this afternoon and not going on a walk to acquire ice cream. Yes, I am well aware that dairy is likely not the wisest  choice with my tummy being all wibbly wobbly, but it is delicious nonetheless and I’d more than kind of enjoy a big ol’ bowl of it right now. In fact, if there was a 24 hour convenience store in walking distance to my house, I’d go right now. But alas, there is not. #firstworldproblems, anyone? Haha. There. Made myself giggle. That’s always a win. Seriously though, I really don’t know what to do with myself. I really want to go snuggle with Vega (because snuggling is truly the greatest thing pretty much ever. Warm  and safe and close to my love), but he has work tomorrow morning and I’d hate to keep him up with my thrashing about and whatnot. I also really want a cup of coffee, but I don’t know if I want to commit to staying awake when I’m feeling a little eensy bit sleepy. Maybe I’ll compromise with weeds on the couch and a cup of chamomile tea. I’ll even go ahead and enjoy some more of those trees of mine while the tea steeps so I maximize sleepy potential, then if I’m ready for zzz’s before Vega has to wake up, I’ll stealth my way into the bed for some belated cuddle puddles. Boo-yah. Plan sorted.

no matter what I do at this point, this is going to be me all effing day. sigh.

On that note, I really want my damn chamomile tea now that I’ve mentioned it.

For now,

Wallace, out.

WAY Overdue Update

Happy Sunday, Blogosphere!

It’s actually my Thursday, but whateverrrrrr.

To answer the fan email (!!!) that I received yesterday – NO, I’m not dead! I do apologize for my extended hiatus…between work and the cold from Hell, I’ve been playing it pretty aggressively low-key since our triumphant return from Europe. To answer the second part of said fan email (seriously, y’all have no idea how much it makes my heart smile when I get correspondence from my loyal readers!), YES, there is a pictorial adventure post in the works; however, uploading & editing 1000+ photos is taking me longer than I’d anticipated – I’ll do the Eurotrip post soon. Soon, but not tonight.

LOLz. But seriously, I’ll get to the Euro-post soon.

Second on the docket for this evening is a long overdue blog-stat-update. Can we take a minute to revel at 9,114 unique visitors, 256 comments, and 112 followers?! YOU GUYS ARE AMAZING. I CANNOT THANK YOU ENOUGH. And yes, all-caps italics are the only way I could think of to come even marginally close to expressing how truly, genuinely, deeply grateful I am to every last person who has helped EIB become a bigger success in less than one year than I anticipated it being…well, ever. If numbers don’t lie and I continue doing my part and keeping y’all wanting more (seriously, fan emails. Ego, deflate!); then, we should be right on track for 10,000+ views by the EIB anniversary! And if that happens, there’s going to be a big ol’ giveaway. Mutual win for all!
9000+ views. I seriously can’t get over that.

You’re all amazing.

Anyways, lots has happened since my (apparently much anticipated hehehe) return. I FINALLY bit the bullet and booked in for my first sitting on my left arm sleeve (that’s tattoo speak for those not the know) and I am dying of excitement – this is something I’ve been putting off for the better part of a decade and as of November 17th, it’s going to be a reality. I got in with the artist I’ve been drooling over, I made some revisions to the original placement ideas I’d had, and when all is said and done, a BADASS watercolor tattoo will cover the majority of one of my limbs. If I had a way to fast forward to the 17th, I would. I’ve not been this stoked about something since the trip (which I suppose really isn’t that long); however, this is extra exciting and impatience inducing seeing that my 16 year old self was sure that by now, I’d be covered in tats. That didn’t pan out (well, not yet), but this is a welcome start. Vega put it best – the carrot dangling in front of me right now – my raison d’etre (work wise). Truth from a wise man (who is also unduly excited about the appointment, and who will be present to hold my other hand while this goes down). Actually, to be perfectly honest, I’m looking forward to the pain. Y’all know by now that I’m a masochist, and the fact of the matter is that I need to feel pain sometimes in order to truly relieve my damned stress. My head’s been a hot mess of too much brain stew (aside: I’m trying really hard to actually get started on my damned book – working with my dear friend Spinnaker on a writing exercise that’s hopefully going to be a start of sorts, which is where a lot of the brain soup comes from. Reliving and re-examining my past always seems to throw me into a bit of a tizzy) as of late, and as such, I’m craving release that no amount of liquor, drugs, or sleep can provide. A decade ago I’d have marked up my arms with a blade. Now? Pain at the hands of a professional who’s going to leave my arms more beautiful, not more marred than they already are.

Basically how I feel knowing that this is soon to come to fruition.

Anywhore.

Work’s been interesting lately… I don’t want to get into it too much right now, but the jist is as such:
Powertrip = the rest of us are stressed = workplace goes from a relaxing place to be to a major stressor.
Hopefully, I’ll have it all sorted tomorrow (well…off my chest, at least); however, my ears are to the ground. I LOVE what I do – I mean, playing with coffee all day? Yes, please! That said, I am craving…more. I need more. I’m antsy and frustrated and…well. I think that about sums it up.

…yup.

Other than that?
I’m STILL fighting a cold I picked up on the plane ride back to Vic (booooo!), I start my “weekend” tomorrow at 12:30 (woooooo!), and I’m debating the merits of henna-ing my hair versus buying the combat boots I’ve been ogling. Yeah yeah yeah, I’m tacky as shit in my plaid button downs and combat boots, but to that I say PSHAW! The 90’s are making a comeback anyways…shit, does that make me vintage? hmm. As of right now, I’m sitting at the kitchen table playing DJ (this evening I’m feeling the alt-rock-y stuff (Matt Good, Black Keys, Everlast, Ko…), which seems to work better for Vega than my usual rotation of hip hop!) writing this post while my lovely love whips together a delish smelling curry that’ll simmer simmer simmer for a while for tasty eats this week. I’m considering smoking a bowl before we make dinner (pita pizzas…mmmmmm!!!!), and I have a feeling that we’ll keep it low key with some Nip/Tuck on the couch.I have to be up stupidly early for an opening shift tomorrow, so my game plan is to get baked enough to pass out by midnight at the very latest. You hear that, Insomnia? NOT TONIGHT, OKAY?! Please?

so so so true. And I can’t deal with it tonight. C’mon, Universe, do me a solid and give me sweet sweet zzz’s tonight…

On that note, I’ve realized that I am effectively out of shit to talk about for the time being, and I’mma leave it there.

More when there is more to be said, and knowing me, that’ll be sooner than later.

Gratuitous cute:

D’aweeeezzzz.

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.

Musings on Monday Morning (or, “It’s Still Too Early To Get On With My Day”)

Welp, it’s officially the beginning of what is sure to be an absolutely insanely busy week for myself and Vega. I’ve been up since 4:30 in the morning (all-nighter concluded with me crashing on the couch at 5:00 last night, so 11.5 hours later, I was up and at ’em) drinking coffee and reading xoJane articles and such. Truth be told, I’m not anticipating much sleep the next few days – way too excited, and it’s messing with my already skewed sleep patterns. Anyways. One step closer to normalized hours with last night’s early pass-out. I’m hopeful that tonight, I’ll be sleepy by 9:00 ish and will actually be able to maintain a normal schedule. I have coffee dates and errands lined up all week long, so I’ll be out and about midmorning every day anyways; however, it would be a pretty excellent little added bonus to manage to achieve some quality zzz’s too. We’ll see. Like I said, hopeful, not expecting, on the normal(ish) sleep pattern front.

Anywhore. I have to make the trek down to the mall today to finally pickup my contact lenses (debacle last week with my previous optometrist left me frustrated and freaking out about a) not having contact lenses for the move and b) how fucking expensive eyecare is), which should be an exercise in patience and hopefully not too much of a fuckaround given that Calgary Transit is all re-routed and detoured considering that a few stations and good amounts of track got royally screwed in the flooding. Adventure for the day! I may well reward myself with a jaunt around the mall (one of my girlish indulgences, plus, we have a Target now!), to ogle new Lululemon shit and cute summery clothes (including but not limited to shorts and skirts that I won’t wear due to Sunshine induced scarring, and shoes (natch)) and do some people-watching. I’m in “not buying myself clothes (except the jeans I got last week but whatever) until I tone my ass up” mode right now, so window shopping and a latte is the perfect MO for this girl.

 

There are train tracks under there. Somewhere.

 

Also, besides the aforementioned jeans (fucking superb summer buy, Old Navy, $30.00, “the Flirt” skinny crops. Normally I shy from crop-length anything BUT these are made of cotton, spandex, and MAGIC. They make my ass look divine and my legs somehow look longer. Ladies, do this don’t – short girls in cropped magic pants of awesome. Pair with super cute flowy tank and voila – dressed, all summer long, and no showy-offy of my scars!), I came home from the mall last week with Sephora’s Smoky Studio 2 ($30.00, seriously), and I think I may be in makeup Heaven. Seriously. I haven’t been that excited about makeup in funky colours since I was in high school and I am LOVING it. I am also digging the girly rant this paragraph has become. I might have to do this more often. I digress. The eyeshadows in the kit are all super densely pigmented (this is HUGE for me, as most bright shadows just don’t pop on this girl’s Latina skin), and they range from matte to shimmery to all out sparkly. The lip glosses are super cute and bright and are rekindling my love of obnoxious (read: orange, purple, fuchsia) lipcolor. I am in a highly pigmented girly Nirvana. I also picked up Sephora’s waterproof mascara (in black, natch), and their True Cream Lip Color in “Sunset Rhythm.”  I was a happy camper when I went to go and pay, and my day was made even better with the birthday freebies I received. First up, Benefit’s “They’re Real, Honest!” mascara (which is, by the way, the shieeettttt), and Benefit’s Watt’s Up? Illuminator. I’m not normally one for a super involved skin routine (normally, I rock a thin layer of BB cream and some powder to set it all with); however, I think Watt’s Up? has changed all that. I tried it out last week with a touch of bronzer for contrast and I was in love with the overall effect – I looked all glowy and dewy and alive. Yup, you just read a beauty review on EIB. Like I said – it’s fun being a girly girl sometimes. I’m set for summer and have tons of experimenting with different colors to do!

Anyways. It’s sloooowly becoming normal-person time, which means that I am inching ever closer to showering and getting ready and going on the aforementioned trek to pick up my aforementioned vision correction. Besides that, I have to start packing the small stuff I own today (jewellery and makeup and clothes I don’t intend to wear this week), finish the laundry, and get an entertainment unit ready to be picked up this evening. I also need to pick up some coin rollers and possibly do my damn nails, which are in a dreadful state. Tomorrow, coffee with Dee (which should be another interesting adventure on transit). Friday, dinner plans. I also need to see my baby brother and Scissors before I skip town! Busy little bee. I love it. I can hardly believe that this time next week, I’ll be sipping my morning java on the coast! Vega and I are super duper excited that the time has (finally) come for this to become our reality. It’s also super duper exciting to note that my birthday is a mere eight days away! Woohoo, another year done and done! 22 was good to me on the whole – but it was also one of the most difficult years of my entire life. I’m ready to take on my twenty third year of existence in a beautiful new hometown with my soulmate and the puppy and the promise of bigger and better things. Basically, everything about the time being and the near future excites me greatly. I’m just excited to be alive and it is a brilliant and beautiful feeling.

ALL OF THE YAY!

Anywhore, I’m going to call this a post and go make some java before I do that whole getting on with my day thing.

Gratuitous cute:

 

Go forth and kick ass this Monday!

Wallace, out.

 

 

Ain’t No Rest For The Wicked (or, “DAMN YOU, SUBCONSCIOUS.”)

Hello (again) blogosphere!
It’s still early Friday morning. Not as early as the last post, but early nonetheless (translation: I don’t technically have to be awake for another 4 hours).
Why, you ask?

I just had the craziest nightmare.
We’re talking next level shit. We’re talking waking up crying after a faux-wakeup that concluded in a double nightmare.
I feel like this right now:

I hate T-Swift, but she definitely knows my feels right now.

While I don’t want to regale the whole thing in full, the brief summation is that I dreamt that Vega and I were in a home similar to the one we’re in now, and for whatever reason, I had to go get some cash from an ATM. This fabled ATM was like 5 kilometres away, and I had to pass all of the houses I’ve lived in to get there. The thing was in an apartment building in a hidden alcove. Three guys came up beside me, but I didn’t notice them because I had my iPod playing rather loudly in my ears, then one of them grabbed me and started to rough me up a bit. I thought they wanted my money, but they just kept screaming things at me that I couldn’t comprehend. Then, everything went black and I passed out. When I came to, everything I owned was all right there in front of me, but I was petrified. I started to walk out of the apartment building to go find Vega, feeling scared and helpless. When I was leaving the apartment building, I passed a cop who had a woman in handcuffs, bringing her into the building. The cop did an about face and came to talk to me, telling me how I “must have impressed the guy because he was wanted for doing the same thing to other women, who were always very strong and attractive, but normally he would encase them in cement.” I asked why he let me go and the cop just kept telling me that he had “run out of time,” and that I “shouldn’t be scared.” At this point, I experienced the horrors of a faux-wakeup. Naught but ten minutes later, I was back tits deep in dreamland, suddenly back in the apartment building where Vega and I were supposedly living. I was a few feet from our front door, when I passed the same woman that the cop had handcuffed in the building where the ATM was. She kept muttering something at me that I couldn’t comprehend and made a weird gesture at me as I passed her by. I got into our apartment as fast as fucking possible, slammed and locked the door behind me, then went to the bedroom to snuggle up with Vega – but Vega wasn’t there, just a newspaper with a headline reading that the guy who had roughed me up at the ATM had been dead for 100 years. When I picked it up, it disintegrated in my hands, then I turned around and that same guy was standing in my bedroom.

What I looked like circa 5:30 this morning.

…And then I woke up (for reals), pretty sure I was screaming in real life too, and definitely crying and very well shaken. Luckily for me, I woke up safe and snug in the arms of my love. He was out cold, but still seemed to know that I needed a hug, because I got a huge and wonderful one that I happily snuggled into for the thirty or so minutes I spent trying to figure out whether or not what I’d just experienced was real. Once I had ascertained that it was, in fact, only a dream, I was both too rattled and too awake to fall asleep again (and truth be told, I was/am kinda on edge and scared and whatthefuck about the whole thing), so I kissed my love (who smiled in his sleep, which was heart meltingly adorable) and came into the living room (where I sit now) to have a cigarette and unwind a little in the hopes of getting at least a little more shut eye before my day officially begins. I’m not delusional though – 700 words later and I’m still too wired to go back to bed; although, even with the shitty wakeup call (thanks, subconscious…) I’m still clocking more snoozetime than the night before. We’ll see what happens – if worst comes to worst, there’s always coffee (and more time to make brekky, which would mean a lovely wakeup call for the love of my life…hmm, Vega, you may or may not be getting breakfast in bed today). Thank Jeebus for coffee – sometimes I fully believe that there is more caffeine in my system at any given time than there is blood.

Have I mentioned how much I love coffee? Especially when made nice and strong and served with a splash of coconut milk? And even more especially so when I get to sip it with Vega first thing in the morning over buzzfeed articles and couch snuggles?

Anyways. I’d really like to know what the flying fuck that whole nightmare was about and why my subconscious is acting like a massive bitch vis a vis sleep (be it sleeping patterns being all out of whack, nightmares (like the one that this post is about), or my insomnia creeping up on me again). I’m not stressed or worried or scared of anything in my life anymore, legitimately In fact, I’m happy and excited and in love with my life – so why the sudden terror-inducing horridness of my dreams as of late? Am I missing something? Should I not go to ATMs by myself (or maybe it’s newspapers I should fear)? Sigh and ho-hum. I suppose that no matter how strong I am and how much I’ve managed to suppress over the years, eventually things have to bubble to the surface and let themselves out. I’m trying to be patient and to see this as a potential positive (in that perhaps this truly is just my subconscious reconciling the horrors of my past I’ve been trying to move on from with the safe and loving and fulfilling life I get to call my own now), but seriously, that was a little more than unpleasant. I hate admitting that I’m scared, but it’s the truth. As abstract and bullshit as it was, that dream legitimately got under my skin. Luckily, Poochie Fantastico must have sensed my unease, as he  is currently snuggled up on my feet and keeping me both safe and cozy warm. Between Visa and Vega, I have absolutely nothing to fear in life (except the crazy wicked mangled dreams my subconscious has been doling out, apparently).

Maybe I’ll get Vega to sing me soft kitty tomorrow night before bed.

Anywhore. It’s still absolutely pissing rain outside. I hope we don’t have to cancel today’s shows again…that would suck. We’re all so excited about putting it on and blowing people’s minds; however, it totally wouldn’t be safe for MJ to perform it if it’s all wet and slippery, and it wouldn’t really be fair to the audience to make them walk/run 5 k in this nonsense either. Cross your fingers and toes that this stormy weather will decide to calm the eff down by 9:30am, would you please dear readers? If it does end up getting cancelled and I do end up with the day off, perhaps I’ll go and use the first of seven free days at that gym from which I won a pass yesterday. I am absolutely itching to go for a good run, and since I don’t have the gear to run in the rain outdoors (and since I have fancy new sweat-wicking headbands that need christening), I may very well be ready to break my own damn rule about treadmills. I mean, I still fervently detest them; however, I hate not scratching my running itch more. Did I mention yet today how goddamn excited I am about running along the water in just over a month? RUNGASM. I can envision it now, and I am loving this idea – hello sunrise waterside runs. Hello sunset waterside yoga. Hello, crunchy hippie side of Mia.

I’m totally okay with my inner flower child coming out. No more closet hippie.

Goddamn, I said GODDAMN – this little lady is thrilled and grateful and oh-so-very-spoiled by Vega. I feel like I’ve been bouncing through life as a ball of crazy happy kinetic energy lately with all the positive upheavals on the horizon for the two of us. It’s so so SO nice not to feel like I’m just shuffling through my existence anymore. Ever since Vega + Wallace: The Real-Life Rom Com became our reality, I pretty much feel like this all the time:

Happy happy bouncy smiley

…and I like it, like it, yes I do. I feel so ALIVE – it’s a pretty drastic shift from where I was at this time last year, and the more I think about where I’ve come from, the more grateful I am for where I’ve come to be. I still look around me sometimes and wonder what I’ve possibly done to deserve this idyllic life I’m leading with the man whom I love with every fibre of my being, I still get butterflies when I look at him, I still can’t get used to the fact that he not only wants to make my life easier and better and to spoil me rotten but actually carries through with all of those things. I can’t wrap my head around the fact that I’m actually living a life this beautiful and rich and full of love and laughter and acceptance and peace and promise and potential. I also can’t wrap my head around the fact that a year ago I was in a situation so directly opposite this – that I’d given up on love and given up on my own happiness and given up the hope of ever belonging to a family that loves and accepts me for who I am as I am for what I am. Never in my life did I think that I’d land in such an unbelievable place. Never in my life did I think that all my hard work would eventually pay off like this. And never in my life did I EVER think I’d be lucky enough to not only fall in love with but to be loved as wholeheartedly as I am by someone as wonderful and as perfect for me as Vega.

It’s true, Mr. Vega – I’m totally smitten.

This is where running becomes my favorite metaphor for life–if my life were a marathon; a year ago, I was at mile 13, my legs giving way and my head telling me to give up, that I’d never make it. Meeting Vega was like the boost I get from a caffeinated gel at mile 15, and right now, I’m at mile 20–the home stretch–just a little more to deal with, a little more mental and physical strength to carry me over to the finish line–Victoria, where I can celebrate and look back on the long, crazy, challenging and beautiful road I’ve travelled to get to the end of the race. And you know what? It doesn’t stop there. When we’ve settled in and found our place and our pace and our footing out there, I look forward to the next marathon–only this time, the metaphorical road is one not fraught with fears and doubts and trepidation; rather, this time, I’m bold, confident, and fearless (and I’ve got Vega by my side – I’m never running this race we call life alone, ever again). Cheesy? Maybe. But maybe you haven’t run your own marathon just yet. 😉

SO SOON. I can barely contain my glee over running by the water.

Another long and rambly Mia-brain dump, brought to you this morning by my nemesis, insomnia, sponsored by nightmares.
On the plus side, I feel better after prattling on and putting things in perspective for myself. A little daily dose of gratitude for one’s life is a highly underrated thing these days. Take a minute today to be thankful for the good in your life – it’s there, I promise. If it seems impossible, don’t fret – mile 13 is the worst..but it passes. Keep plugging away, and suddenly the finish line is yours for the taking.

The dog is whining to go outside, so I’m going to call this a post, have a smoke, let Visa out and then go cuddle up to my wonderful snuggly warm man.

More when there’s more to say, and there’s always more to be said.

Wallace, out.

10:47am – Update
I’m still awake. No rest for this sleepy bunny today it seems.
It’s still pouring rain and according to the Canadian weather website, we’re under “torrential downpour warning” – so my cohort G is going to pick me up at 1:00 as we’d originally planned, and if we do cancel the show, then I’ll mosey my way back home (possibly hit the gym on my way back, but probably not. Yoga in the living room sounds about right as I realize how tired I really am).
1 cup of coffee, down. 1 sleeping puppy + 1 sleeping fiancé + 1 sleepy but not sleeping Mia = I’m making brekky when I finish this update. Brekky in bed for my love today, and I’m going fancy with the yam hashbrowns. Maybe. I don’t know how well grating with no grater will go. If all else fails, I’ll make them my usual amazingly delicious way. One really can’t fuck yams up that badly.
I am in the strangest, most peaceful (yet still edgy from last night’s terse sleep) mood today. I’ve just kind of accepted the sleepiness (I’ll slay it with caffeine!), the excitement (I have so much Kijiji selling to do it ain’t even funny), the antsy in my skin feeling (whether it’s putting in my 10k at work today or gym time or yoga or some crazy permutation of all 3, I’ll get physical today – this much is a certainty) – and with that acceptance, that peace, I feel both still and powerful. Maybe I’m doing too much yoga. I’m starting to sound like a Lululemon advertisement. Good thing I’ve always been partial to their marketing ploys, or I’d be annoying myself greatly right now.
Game plan: more coffee, creation of delectable breakfast noshfest, make myself presentable to the general public, go to work and either work or get rained out and sent back home, go to gym/do yoga/both, Kijiji attack, sleep like a champion. Doable. Enjoyable. I may even find it in myself to straighten my damn hair..although it’s raining, rendering that idea useless and silly. Second and better plan – one of them new headbands is getting worn in the real world today. Hell to the yes please.
Anywhore, I am off in the conquest of coffee, eggs, and yams.

Here’s some gratuitous cute to tide you over to my next post:

Gadsakes baby seals just turn my heart into goo.

Wallace (once again) out.

 

Extended Hiatus (on Mia-Terms) Over! (or, “Damn You, Nightmares!”)

Hello blogosphere, happy Monday to you all!

Hopefully the weather wherever you may be is more savory than Calgary’s second-coming-of-Winter that seems to be going on. So frustrating, but what’s an Alberta girl to do? I suppose I should be used to massive dumps of snow (my least favorite 4-letter word, seriously) in the middle of what is supposed to be springtime. Inhale, exhale, focus on Victoria. Sorry prairies, you’ve been a slice, but I’m definitely a coastal girl at heart. More on that in a bit.

THREE MONTH (and a week) BLOGOSPHERE UPDATE–as of 8:07am 04/15/2015, we’re up to 3,293 unique page visitors; 193 comments, and 1 unspeakably excited blogmistress. THANK YOU, THANK YOU, THANK YOU ❤ I am humbled and amazed! 😀

Anyways. It’s been a good ten days–my apologies for going MIA (ha! see what I did there?!) on y’all, I’ve just been preoccupied. I am sad to report that since the PR run that was the makings of my last post, I haven’t made it out to hit the pavement since. See aforementioned grumblings vis a vis 2nd coming of winter. Regardless, I have stayed true to my personal goal of 6 workouts/week, 4 hours yoga/week, and am sloooowly seeing results. Not much in the way of inches lost yet or anything, but I feel much more like my usual bright bubbly DOMS laden self. There is a lot to be said for sweating hard once (or twice, if there’s sexy time involved hehe) per day. I’ve also been eating a lot freakin’ better–takes some willpower (and yes, there have been a few cheats–I’m not on a W30 right now, so sue me–I’m talking to you, delicious sushi and frighteningly tasty Reese’s ice-cream), but the general lowering of my consumption of dairy and grains has meant that (knock on wood) I haven’t had a flare since I’ve been back in the 403. Praise Jeebus and all that jazz. Besides the ridiculous circuit/tabata/boxing/yoga I’ve been doing, Vega and I have been making time for lots of Battlestar  (let me just take a minute to say that I AM DYING OVER THIS FINAL FIVE THING. SERIOUSLY. GUH.), and Dexter, and cooking some ah-mazing food (recipes to come sometime this week when I get off my lazy ass (actually, when I make more time to sit on it hehe) and download the pics so that y’all have visuals as well as instructions. We also celebrated Chef’s birthday on Saturday evening with Veggie over some UFC fights (YEAH FABER) at a casino. It’s nice to have good friends–they’re both really growing on me, and I’m going to miss them a ton when we move. Good news, of course, being that we still have a few months to make even more awesome memories–it’s so comforting, having good things that I will remember in Calgary, rather than feeling nothing but doom when I inevitably think on my hometown.

I digress. This morning started much, much earlier than I had anticipated. Vega and I went to sleep around 2:45am, and I was exhausted. It was a weird sleep I had–one of those “pretty sure I was dreaming about tossing and turning” kind of nights, I am sure I slept because I definitely sprung awake (much less tired, but not well-rested..grumble grumble)–and I laid there from about 6 until 6:30 doing my damndest to get my eyes to take me back to sleepytown. No such luck, so I hauled myself to the living room, had a smoke, and cuddled with the puppy while reading the new posts on the Whole9 forum. Finally got through the unread ones, decided it was coffee time, ground some organic, fair trade dark roast beans (yeah yeah yeah, I’m one of them hippies. I know. Soon I’ll be where I belong with my hippie of a handsome guy 🙂 ), and here I am. There really is very little better than a good strong cup of coffee and a cigarette in the morning–and I must say, my visceral hatred of the morning is slowly fading as I grow older. I’m learning to enjoy the peacefulness of the day breaking (and it’s nice to have a little me time. Love you, Vega, but I feel super-guilty writing blog posts when we are snuggling on the couch. It’s also near impossible to think clearly enough when Beta is in the room–nothing against her, but a) I don’t want her finding my blog, and b) she’s 19 and has the conversational energy of a nineteen year old. Too many thoughts end up floating around). Right now, my situation is a good one–hot coffee, sleeping pooch beside me, Monday blues nowhere to be seen… Hmm. A half year ago I wouldn’t have recognized this person. I missed this side of me. I keep re-introducing these long forgotten facets of myself back into everyday Mia-existence. It is freakin’ lovely, as I’d convinced myself that these parts of me had packed up and moved away a long, long time ago.

Before I move too far away from the tangent of sleep, that seems to be the one thing I am having the hardest time “fixing” (in the same way I am “fixing” my diet and exercise). In the last 2 weeks, Vega and I have done better in the way of actually going to bed (fewer although not none in regards to all-nighters), but it seems that even when I am just pooched and should theoretically be sleeping like a rock, that I’ve been having bouts of the worst nightmares known to man/womankind. They’re so vivid, so bizarre, and so unsettling…ugh. The only conjecture I have on the matter is that I’m processing things on a subconscious level–my conscious is for the most part at peace these days–and Vega took it a step further to add that it probably has something to do with me truly realizing that I am safe and I am loved, and coming to grips with that, too. Whatever it is, I hope to kill it off with the assistance of the aforementioned workouts, eating, and LOVE (I am so loved, it blows my wee brain)–and hope that if nothing else, maybe I will get a good cry in one of these days and just physically let it all go. I’d really prefer to not have to resort to the latter (I really, really hate crying–although mead and ridiculous conversations with Vega seem to drag it out of me), but perhaps the urge will strike and I’ll just get it out of my system. Alternately, I can also see a hysterical Mia-style laughter-out-of-fucking-nowehere-for-45-minutes session as a potential release. It is unfortunate one cannot force these things, as I’d also get a killer workout from the giggle-fest. 🙂 Grieving one’s past is a strange and liberating experience.

Anywhore. A  little over an hour and my Vega will be waking for the day. Is it pathetic that I miss him terribly right now (even though he’s under the same roof, sleeping soundly in the bed I was in with him less than two hours ago)? No matter, it’s the truth, and I am revelling in it. Absolutely wallowing in the depths of the love I have for that perfect-for-me-man. Going back to the first bit of this post, 99.99999% of why I’m so excited about Victoria has to do with Vincent and I. We are flourishing so much already–every day that goes by, we learn more about each other, grow closer, make new memories, come up with bigger and better goals and dreams for the future–our future. It’s truly overwhelming to have found the person who makes me whole – and we’re really just beginning. As the days and weeks go by and the move draws nearer, it’s becoming clearer and clearer to me that when you do what you’re supposed to be doing, things tend to work out as they should. In the beginnings of our relationship, I had nothing but doubt coming from my few friends who bother to give me their $0.02 on my life. The number of times I heard that we moved too fast, or that I was acting on impulse, or that I was going to invariably get hurt if I moved from the 506 to the 403 to be with Vega…well, let’s just say that upon seeing/talking to me now, none of them have anything left to say–in fact, most of them are quite literally speechless–and it’s great, quite frankly. Nothing is as simple as it seems; however, sometimes you just have to go with your gut. Mine seems to make some pretty wise choices (so does Mr. Vega’s). I’m so so so excited for the summer–excited to move (hopefully for the last time in a while! haha), to meet Vega’s family, to find our corner of the universe together in the 250! I’m excited about the weather, and about being by the water, and about exploring new neighbourhoods, and restaurants, and making new friends. I’m excited about the unknown–and I’m excited by what I know for sure; that is, the prospect of starting to put down roots somewhere beautiful with my fiancé and our pup and overwhelming amounts of positivity and love and happiness (and, of course, good food). To anybody who doesn’t know me, this probably reads like the diary of a madwoman. Perhaps I am mad–was it Twain who said that the best of us always are?

Speaking of authors, I am starting a new read when I wrap up this post here. Vega’s lent me “A Game Of Thrones,” by George R. R. Martin. I’ve been meaning to get in on this series for a long while now (and I haven’t watched the TV show yet, so shh! No spoilers!), and I’m looking forward to sinking my teeth into a good book. Have I mentioned yet how excited I am that I’ll be able to read by the water again soon? And do yoga by the water? And run by the water…? The list goes on, but long story short, all good things in life are made better when done by the water. True fact. Also true fact–this will be a reality in what really is a matter of weeks. I should really get a move on the whole Kijiji-selling-of-things. Maybe today after my workout. We’ll see.

Today should be a continuation on the positive-vibes theme, methinks. I’m already 2 cups of coffee into the day, have a killer boxing circuit and some kundalini yoga planned for mid-morning (after brekky with my love, natch), and besides vacuuming and a possible grocery run later in the day, all I have planned is pooch snuggles on the couch with the aforementioned read o’the week–no better way to spend a snow day. Taking it easy, one day at a time–trying to find that balance I’m always talking about–I’m pretty sure my Nirvana lies somewhere between Vega, Visa, and Vinyasa.

For now, I have exhausted my rambling muscles. Expect recipes (and hopefully, less of these ten day hiatuses) very, very soon.

Wallace, out.