The Sea Is A Good Place To Think Of The Future

Hello, blogoverse!

I’ve tried to start this post like four times now. Seriously, it’s been sitting in my drafts folder and enough is enough! Ha. How are your weeks going so  far? Can you believe that  we’re this close to Christmas already? I’m actually pretty jazzed on the holidays this year for once. Vega and I have amassed quite the pile of presents for each other..I tried to stay in budget, Vega, but you’ve good taste and you’re fun to shop for. There’s something extra magical about the weather we’re having right now, too. Instead of the typical three feet of snow and/or -45 degree cold snap to which I’d become accustomed in the prairies, it’s hovering around the five degree mark here, and we’ve had these gorgeous cloudy drizzly rainy days all week. It’s wonderful here.

This weekend was somewhat uneventful. Friday, Vega and his family took off to Calgary for the day to spend some time with Vega’s grandpa. I got up early to say goodbye, then walked his parents pug (she’s such a cute little monstrosity of a dog), then got my nails done (they’re all long and faaaab now), then cleaned our suite like a madwoman, then ordered some pizza, then passed out cold on our loveseat until Vega got home a few hours later. I was in the midst of a heavily fucked up dream and kinda vaguely remember being very grumpy for a moment and then being asleep again. We slept like champs until Saturday afternoon, then peeled ourselves out of our warm comfy bed and headed downtown for Vega to get some Christmas shopping done and to eat way too much sushi. We got home and I realized that a small but painful knot had taken residence in my neck. Advil advil tea and advil, and then a lot of sleep. Sunday was more sleep and porkchops. Vega makes killer porkchops. Yesterday, I didn’t get much  done. I slept in too late and felt kinda poopy all day. Today, I was up before noon, dressed and out the door to get the last of Vega’s Christmas prezzies. Mission accomplished, then got home, made some art, wrote the first few pages of the first “official” draft of my book ( aside: I AM WRITING MY BOOK IN A LISA FRANK NOTEBOOK. LISA FUCKING FRANK OF NINETIES STATIONARY FAME. LISA FRANK, WHOM I LOVE AND ADORE WITH EVERY 90S KID FIBRE OF MY DAMN BEING.), had a brief chat with Spinnaker, then watched a whole bunch of Sopranos with Vega. We started “Amelie,” too, but that’s on hold until tomorrow. Vega’s gone to bed now and I’m sitting here listening to the super catchy Los Campesinos! track that Spinny’s got me hooked on.

The title of this post is the title of that song and I’ve got to say that they hit the nail on the proverbial head with that one. The sea has always been my place of peace and understanding and harmony. I feel grounded when I’m near the ocean, and living on the island has definitely been good for my head, my heart and my soul. I’ve had a lot to think about since we got here (and well before that but you know what I’m trying to say), and I feel like the simple act of waking up in the morning and having the luxury of greeting the day with my first cigarette of the day overlooking the pacific has done my mental state more good than any of the hundreds of counsellors I’ve seen over the years. Vega’s stressing over Christmas and as much as I love that he’s fussing over me so much and so painstakingly is adorable, but I want to pull him aside and stop him and find a way to explain to him what a gift it is to me to be able to sit by the sea and think of our future and  think of our present and revel in how it somehow erases bits of my past and how that’s the best gift anybody could ever give me, ever. But I don’t have the words, Vega. So that’s the conundrum I face – you are so good to me, so good for me, that you outdo any gift you could ever give me.

I can’t seem to wind my brain down today. Mind’s going a million miles a minute and it has been since I got out of bed. Tomorrow I am going to try to wake up at a good time and go for a run and sit my ass down and write for a couple of hours and finish my piece of pending art. I know that’s a lot of things for someone who’s been so sloth-y lately but I figure it’s all do-able. I feel like I might have forgotten to mention that I got the dream job I was stressing over last week! I start in January and I really can’t wait. I  also feel wickedly antsy and restless. That said, it’s been a nice few days, celebrating the new employment by taking some serious me time. I don’t do enough of that for myself.

Aaaanywhore. I think it’s high time (ha!) that I make myself some chamomile and find some shitty TV show to watch. I need to relax my mind and writing is amping me up right now.

For  now,

Wallace, out.

Rainy Day Ramblings

Hello my dears!
Apologies for having been MIA-I did an eight day run at work, had yesterday off, and called today Monday. How have y’all been doing?

I’m on the bus right now, so first off, apologies for any spelling mistakes; and secondly, this is just gonna be a quickie.

It’s such a gorgeous rainy day here on the island, grey and misty and drizzly-just how I like it. I get why people consider this depressing, but I honestly just find it refreshing and peaceful. Kinda matches my mood today, actually. I’m all pensive and quiet inside. The weather is a perfect compliment.

I should; however, invest in a rain jacket and/or an umbrella!

Anywhore. Other than work, been getting through my stack of owed art, not getting enough sleep (damn you, insomnia), and generally rocking the free world with my head held up a little too high. You can’t really blame me for being stoked on life right now–I have my love and I have my life. The rest is either noise or cake. Luckily, I’m good at drowning out the noise. And I like cake.

Annnyyywaayyyysss. It’s my stop so this is it for this disjointed little cluster of a post. Real post soon, I promise.

For now,
Wallace out.

“And any man who knows a thing, knows he knows not a goddamn thing at all”

“Nothin’ is perfect man/
That’s what the world is/
 All I know is/
I’m enjoyin’ today/
You know/
‘Cause it ain’t every day that you get to give/”
(from “Take a Minute” – K’Naan)
_______________________________________________

Hello again, blogoverse.

I may or may not still be in a state of shock still, so consider this both my forewarning and advance apology for what may very well be a disjointed and nonsensical post.

my forte.

Despite falling the holy fuck apart following my last post, I still managed to pull myself together enough to lace up my Nikes and hit the pavement. The first two miles were comprised entirely of me bawling my eyes out (aside: faith in humanity was marginally restored during this escapade, as three separate complete strangers took the time to stop me and ask if I was okay) and completely getting lost in my monkey brain – seriously, there are so many thoughts in my head at once sometimes that it’s hard to hear myself over all of the commotion. Halfway through, at the bottom of the big scary hill that I have some personal beef with (note: this hill is massive and steep and neverfuckingending..my Waterloo, if you will), the tears stopped, and were replaced with a quiet calm. It even started to drizzle ever so slightly – I love it when the weather coincides with my mood like that. Long story short, I conquered, nay, SLAYED that hill today, and then continued on (mostly downhill from there, luckily) home.

Wise words in regards to hills.

I finished my 4 miles today in just under 40 minutes; maintained an average pace of 12:27/mile, and got home exhausted, sore, and peaceful. I realized that the tears were just as necessary as the Zen-like trance I felt running along Shaganappi today. Don’t get me wrong; there is a lot of mourning and sadness and disbelief swirling around in my head and my heart this evening, however, what better way to honour the memory of someone who lived such a vibrant and passionate life, than to go and live my life to the fullest possible extent? I had to and will have to continue to feel this – which is why I am 100% alright with making an ass of myself and running while crying my little eyes out. When the brain commotion was happening, I kept getting stuck on this one particular thought:

“Why is it that the shittiest people I know are still here, and a good number of the best ones I’ve known aren’t?”

It is NOT fair. Trust me, I am neither judge, jury, nor executioner; however, I can easily list off a dozen people whom the world would benefit from not having around today. The friend I lost today? NOT FUCKING ONE OF THEM. I ran close to three and a half kilometres stuck on this thought, this vitriol, this unwavering and unadulterated rage at the Universe, at God, at whateverthefuck people believe in. It isn’t funny, it isn’t right, and it isn’t fair. This anger got me to the foot of the hill from Hell – a suitable metaphor, if ever there was one. It isn’t fair. Life, love, hill running… It hurts, it takes so much out of you, makes you question your own capacity to arise and overcome the obstacles inherent in day to day life. It also leaves you with a rather important choice, which is of course whether you’re going to attack the hill with everything you’ve got, or turn right the fuck around and cry about it all the way home.

from “Oh, The Places You’ll Go” – Seuss. Forever a favorite.

Somewhere at the foot of the hill lies all of the rage and confusion and hatred for the treachery that is having to say goodbye to a good friend. I stood there for a minute, wholeheartedly considering turning around, cutting my losses, and calling 3.5 miles as good as 4. Then, the wind started to blow, the rain started to fall ever so lightly, and I realized that the hill is synonymous to all of the other things in my life that I don’t want to face, or think that I shouldn’t have to deal with, or want to sweep under the rug and forget about forever. If I’ve learned anything in life, it’s that the things I face head on – regardless of the pace I keep or the hardships involved – invariably make me a stronger, better person. As soon as I got moving again – steadily forwards and up the damn incline – that thought, that unanswerable question disappeared. There was a moment of revelation and calm in realizing that the hill (as any other difficult thing one may face) truly only wins if I let it. Maybe it was just adrenaline from the news I’d received pre-run, maybe I’m legitimately getting stronger, or maybe it was some straggling energy left behind from my friend in the air, but I outran myself today, in all senses of the expression.

I love this – exactly how I felt when I got home.

In memory of someone who lifted me up when I was at the lowest point of my life, who saw the good and the great and the powerful in me when I couldn’t see it for myself, I proved to myself today that everything they taught me is very much the truth. I can’t control the Universe, but I can control my interaction with it. I choose to be strong and tenacious and true to my word, not only for myself, but for those who aren’t with me any longer and who can’t be strong and tenacious and true to their word in my life anymore. They’re gone – and I can’t change that. I don’t believe in God or angels or Heaven or Hell, but I do believe that the impression somebody makes on you through their lifetime keeps them very much alive for the rest of time – granted that the people that they touch throughout their lifetimes are smart enough to enact the lessons and utilize the knowledge left behind. It’s hard not to give up on the world sometimes – losing seven close personal friends (all too young) within the last two years has definitely showed me the extent to which it is a trying feat at very least – but it’s much easier to deal with when you remember not to give up on yourself. I am not just the sum of all of my parts; rather, I am the sum total of the fragments of others who both enrich and detract from my life. The person who I so proudly am today is a culmination of lessons hard learned, wisdom given freely, and the ability to accept both with dignity, grace, and understanding. That, in and of itself, keeps the ones I’ve lost alive – at least, in my life (and in particular, my times of self-doubt).

Much like this Seurat painting, I am but the sum of thousands and thousands of “points,” lessons learned through love, loss, friendship, grief, wisdom, kindness, and the innumerable other experiences life has (and has yet to) thrown my way.

Following this evening’s workout and a cup of coffee, Vega treated me to a lovely impromptu date night (burger Monday at the local pub), where we sat and talked about life over a Strongbow. I don’t take our relationship for granted; however, following this afternoon, I was extra-grateful for the love of my life this evening. When we got home, I took a long, way-too-hot shower and have since resided to my post on the couch, Vega to my left watching “The Tudors,” poochie fantastico sprawled out beneath the coffee table, and cuppa magical tea in hand. I’m still shaken and shaking – this is truly the perfect place for my head and my heart to be right now. Safe, loved, and peaceful. Sadness is inevitable today (and will be for the next few, I do suspect), but it isn’t going to take control of my life anymore. Hell, there’s no guarantee I’ll wake up tomorrow, so I’ll be making the best of the rest of the time I’ve got on this Earth.

Seize that damn day, folks.

The other thing weighing heavy on my head? Seeing my parents tomorrow. I’ve got confirmation from my Mother in regard to time – but there’s always a niggling little feeling in the back of my head that she’s somehow planning to make this whole endeavour impossible. I just want my damn identification. Some of my books would be an added bonus. I have a modicum of hope that perhaps she’s going to make it simple and as not-unpleasant as she can…but, then I’d be delusional. That just isn’t her style. All I can say is, for the sake of my mental health, I really motherfucking hope that those two pieces of paper are in my hands by 6pm tomorrow evening. One more bullshit excuse about not having time to go to the bank to get them or one more bullshit ultimatum (my mother is the master of this – “you want (insert personal property of your choice that she has no legal right to)? Well, you can have it after you bend over backwards and make yourself sick and miserable and so on”), and I am guaranteed going to go ballistic. It’s the last nicety I need from her (and really, it isn’t but a nicety, it’s my personal identification), and I really, really just want it over and done with so I can turn the page on that part of my life. It’s so over – I reiterate; my forgiveness is hers for the taking, but that is followed solely with apathy. I don’t hate her. I really don’t. Hatred is waaaaaay too much energy to expend on that issue. I really just do not give two shits (well..I won’t, once I have my ID back).

Basically.

Regardless, there were a few good things that went down today – we sold another dresser, a ratchet set, and have a great offer on Vega’s car – and tomorrow I get to see Dee and Baby Dee for a little while, which I’m wholeheartedly looking forwards to. It’s all good and positive energy that way – seventeen days left to tie up loose ends, and certainly, there is a lot of that happening. In fact, saying goodbye to my parents tomorrow is going to be akin to cauterizing a long bloody wound (and I’m pretty sure that would have led to some proverbial gangrene had I let it go too much longer). Seeing the car and the furniture and the odds and ends getting sold is solidifying the realities of both Vega and I truly getting a clean break and a fresh start. This is the home stretch – and it’s so unbelievably welcome in both of our lives right now that whatever bullshit we may (or, knock on wood, may not) have to deal with for the next 2 and a half weeks is just a drop in the ocean at this point.

this is guaranteed to be my reaction if you try to piss me off in the next 17 days.

On that note, I have to be up relatively early tomorrow and need to do some winding down (aka ice packs, meet calves; brain, meet xojane.com) before I even attempt to get some zzz’s.

Gratuitous cute:

Okay, okay, gratuitous ferocity.

More when there is more – and there always seems to be.

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.

 

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.

 

“So is it raining in your bedroom?”

Grey, drizzly, rainy day here in the 506–my absolute favorite. I always, always have loved this sort of day the absolute best; there is a stillness, a peacefulness in the air when the rain is falling and the skies are a monochromatic backdrop to the pavement. I’ve had another lovely, solitary kind of day, and slowly but surely I am feeling myself heal from the inside out.

Today started around 11:00 when Boo woke me up with a smile and a cheerful “good morning, sleepyhead,” which instantly put me in a good mood. We moved some shit around in her room, then I made us breakfast (onion, bacon, egg skillet) and we ate while watching shitty girly TV and bullshitting about Valentine’s, Sarge’s upcoming birthday, and Vega’s pending visit. She started work at 2:00, and I headed down to the basement to put in a good workout.

Back day SUCKS. I can’t emphasize to you all how much I detest working my back. But I got through it (skin of my damn teeth; plenty of cursing, buckets of sweat), then did a core circuit, and threw in some speedrope for good measure. I hear all the time that I’m too militant with my workouts; I say NUTS TO THAT, pass me the damn weights and throw me my water bottle. I am slowly but surely seeing progress in my physique, and I am absolutely determined to look amazing in a bathing suit by September. It will be a first for me to want to be seen in a bikini rather than hiding in the shadows. This too has been an incredible shift in my paradigm; this new acceptance of who I am physically. Vega helps a lot with that, he already thinks I’m a stunner, but the true victory for me has been the fact that I’m truly starting to see a pretty girl in the mirror, too. I don’t remember ever truly feeling this good about my body before. Weird but welcome mental shift.

Post-workout, Sarge and I headed out to get some healthy noms with which to fill the fridge (he’s loving this healthy eating thing, too, which makes me smile inside), and then rolled home so that I could make dinner. As always, I closed the kitchen door, pumped some music through my headphones (today, I have been rocking Stone Temple Pilots, Eliot Brood, and Atmosphere), and sliced and chopped and sauteed my little heart out. It turned out rockin’ (chili chicken stir fry with carrots, green beans and onions served over a bed of sauteed garlic cabbage with a side romaine salad), and we ate well in wonderful company while Boo was on break. Food brings me so much joy these days; which has been another welcome shift for me, as the stress and angst I used to feel about eating has subsided and given way to fulfillment and deliciousness. Slowly slaying these demons o’mine–and let me tell you, the happiest victory for me thus far has been over my eating disorders. I won’t say that they’re dead yet, as I still have to put in a conscious effort not to feel guilty about eating, period; however, I am unbelievably proud of myself for learning to exert control in healthy ways, and for filling my body with healthy fuel. BHAG, be my bitch; life, be my oyster. My delicious, delicious oyster.

After we all gorged, I did the dishes while Boo finished her shift and Sarge played COD. I love cleaning when I’m in these “moods” I’ve been in, so I also cleaned the floors, the bathroom, and my room. When I finally finished, Boo was done work, so we enjoyed a laugh while she joined me outside (her for fresh air (it is beautifully warm despite the rain, and the humidity is just delectable), me for a cig), then her and Sarge hit the hay while I showered and fully enjoyed it–nothing better than hot water on sore, tired muscles. After I got all comfy, I made a MAGICAL cup of tea (black chai, splash of coconut milk = oh fuck yes comfort in a mug), settled on the couch with Wonderpup, and stumbled upon “Mrs. Doubtfire” on AFC. And here we are; clad in pink plaid, warm and snug in front of the fire, chatting with my Vega, thinking about everything and nothing all at once.

Smoke break; back in three shakes of a lamb’s tail.

Seriously, it is PERFECT outside right now. The drizzly grey is supposed to stick around for the majority of tomorrow, too–I smell a long, much-needed run tomorrow morning. I believe in running like I believe in yoga and tea. Total soul-food.

I feel like this post has been totally self-indulgent and probably very boring to read. All the same; my blog, my thoughts, my place to vent, so no apologies from this end.

Made a list of all the things I have to look forward to today, and I’m still glowing over it. I don’t think I’ve ever been quite this excited about my life before. Firstly, my visit with Vega is coming up rather quickly. As of tomorrow, we are 2 weeks and a day away from being reunited; and quite frankly, my patience is at nil! I still can’t quite believe that he’s coming across the country just to spend time with me, and that in and of itself is so much more than I am used to in a relationship. This long-distance thing seriously sucks on nights like this; nights that would only truly be more complete with my love at my side (tea helps a lot; however, just is not the same kind of comfort that his arms provide) to keep me safe and warm. We’ve been so lucky thus far; finding each other, kindred spirits, truly and deeply. The story of OUR lives is only just beginning, and so far, I’m convinced it’s the greatest story ever written. Everything I am looking forward to on the aforementioned list in some way relates to him being in my life; and it’s magical, how he has waltzed his way into my existence and done nothing but better it from the moment we first met. My heart still races every time I get a text message from him, and those butterflies people are always talking about? Yeah, they’re real.

I sometimes stop and think about my past relationshits with the idiots who threw me aside (literally and figuratively) and I have to wonder how I ever put up with being so far diminished as a human, as a woman, as a lover… I guess that theme carried through in all aspects of my life for a long time. I didn’t see myself for who I truly was, and as such, I allowed for some serious abuses of my exsistence. I think that’s truly the “magic” here, is that Vega really, truly does love me for me. I feel the exact same way about him; I love the broken pieces as much as I love what is whole, he is fascinating and complex and totally diverse. I wake up every day excited to better myself, knowing that he is doing the same for the same reason–we’re both, for the first time, truly LIVING our lives. We make each other stronger, happier, better people. It’s just awesome.

And it’s the sweetest vindication; this new fire, passion, lust we have both found in life. I truly have no desire to ever be face-to-face with the idiots of my past ever again; however, I do revel in the knowledge that every single one of them–my parents, KFP, Sunshine, Swizz–are wrong about me. I’m not the one dwelling in my own self-pity, my preconceptions about life, my negativity (at least, not anymore)–I’m taking this new beginning and I’m running with it. I have nothing to run away from anymore (except clowns. One should always run from clowns). I know Vega has his loose ends to tie up; however, it’s just awesome to see him revelling as much as I am in this. He apparently had a chat with Mama Vega about me today; who apparently picked up within minutes of their phone call that he is, in fact, in love with me–just based on the tone of his voice. He’s coming to terms with the Beta situation, and he’s making strides in his life that I am beyond proud of. He is amazing. He is mine, and I am his. It’s beyond my wildest dreams.

On that note, I’m going to end this post here so that I can devote my attention to the incredibly warm and fuzzy conversation I am having with the aforementioned love of my life, make another cup of tea, and possibly post a rather hilarious break-up letter that 19 year old me wrote to an idiot from days long past. I just got a rather hearty chuckle out of that relic.

Wallace out.