Screw Sensibility

*WARNING - this post contains no happy thoughts. It is not meant to target any individuals, it is merely a very needed venting of emotions*


I know that I always try to look on the bright side of life, to see everything with a silver lining. Life is just better that way, but today I need to get this out. Call it reactionary, unnecessary, or even crass, but I can’t handle keeping this in right now. Everyone needs to vent sometimes.

I just can’t bring myself to be the bigger person. I have encountered only a couple of situations in my life where being the bigger person has been too hard for me. No matter how hard I try, I just can’t be happy for someone and the relationship that is affecting me. Even though I know logically that their relationship has no actual bearing on my life, my emotions completely override any sensible thought. I just can’t bring myself to be happy for them. The memories, past hurts, and even good times come flooding in all at once when I think about their relationships. And it is anything but a jealousy issue, because it all boils down to my interaction with that person.

The worst part, is my immediate reaction is always to cut that person out.

I have relationships that I consider ‘toxic’. I define these relationships as ones where I feel worse about myself with each interaction. One where the person has no interest in my feelings, intentionally hurts me, or is unwilling to change a behaviour that they know is hurting me. Because of my reaction right now to things I read, all I want is to cut these people out of my life. But then I have to deal with ‘the infected’. These are the people who are close to the ones I’ve cut. And the list then becomes endless. Sometimes I wonder why I keep these people in my life, these people that make me cry, that push me to the limits of my self confidence, that betray me intentionally or not. And then I remind myself that there is always good in everyone. I strive to find it in everyone, and I have yet to fail. Sometimes that good is fleeting, and other times it is the intention that is misunderstood. I try to be the bigger person and keep them in my life, to remind them of their good qualities, and to enjoy the time we spend together.

And other times I can’t be the bigger person.

I repress so many emotions in order to keep these people in my life. I forgive past hurts easily, but trust and forgetting are not a virtue of mine. All the emotions come flooding back uncontrollably and I have to work really hard to move past them. I hope with every situation that in time it will go away. But right now it hurts. It feels as though the wound is freshly cut.

I learnt with Sean that time does heal wounds, but every once in a while salt is thrown in. The body then has to work harder to conceal the depth of the pain. The healing then restarts, and takes even longer. The catch? The wound never fully heals. It remains as a scar to forever remind me of where I’ve been. I am only who I am because of these scars, and because of the wounds that are trying to heal right now. The test is moving forward. The test is forgetting the person as the wielder of the weapon, but seeing them rather as a creator. I wish I could get there right now, but I can still feel it bleeding.

12 Days

I follow a belief that every day should be lived to its fullest, or at least appreciated it for the adventures it brings. And yet, there’s something about Christmas time that amplifies these days into disappointments or memories to share in later years.

I can’t say that I’ve had many disappointments this year. Frankly, this month has brought me a new sense of happiness and joy that I haven’t experienced in a while. I don’t know if it’s because I feel I have a purpose, all the time I’ve been spending with family and friends, or else just the Christmas season, but I do know that I need to take this wonderful joy of life into 2011.

I can say, however, that I have had many wonderful days this month. So many that it was hard to choose which days to write about. But in the spirit of the holidays, I’m going to tell you about my best 12 days of Christmas this year.

1. November 11, 2010: My 12 days began in November. I went to a remembrance ceremony with my Dad, my neighbour (and second father) Cliff, and Yan. When we got home, the weather was too perfect to pass up, and my Dad and I started working on the Christmas lights for the house. We have been doing these lights together for 15ish years, and it has become a wonderful bonding experience that I look forward to every year. My father took the next day off work and we spent the entire weekend doing the lights. I see our house as a testament to the strength and faith we have in our relationship.

2. November 13, 2010: My neighbours (and second parents) Cliff and Colette hosted an engagement party for Yan and I. It was the first time in a year and a half that I had the opportunity to be in the same house as the Pocono Crew. As far back as I can remember, our street has had parties for every occasion. Even Friday nights during the summer are an excuse to get together and drink on the lawn with 20+ people. Growing up I thought this was normal. Only recently did I realize how fortunate and blessed I am to have grown up with such love and support on a wonderful street. Having them come back together for our engagement party was more than I could have asked for.

3. November 20, 2010: I volunteered to go with my Dad to Calgary to help take care of my Grandparents. My Grandfather is terminally ill with less than 3 months to live, and my Grandmother is getting into the later stages of Alzheimer’s. It was by no means an easy trip, but I was given such a wonderful gift this day. My Grandfather spent the previous day complaining about how horrible everybody is and how he wanted to go to Holland. An intervention with care workers did nothing to stem his opinion of a hospice. He saw it as a place to dispose of the “unwanted”, and did not understand what a hospice is truly about. After much effort, we managed to get him to see a hospice on the morning of the 20th and my Grandfather became a different man. He was excited and wanted his name put on the list. He said he was happy he didn’t go to Holland. It was the only time I was there that I almost cried. The change of heart was such a relief, and I was so happy to see him understand that we were not trying to get rid of him, but rather, take care of him. He is now in the hospice and I am beyond happy that I will be able to hear his voice this Christmas.

4. November 27, 2010: Yan took me to Toronto to see the terracotta warriors. I was expecting to be impressed, but I was blown away instead. We had such an amazing weekend together. The hotel room was gorgeous, the day spent at the Museum perfect, and the nights romantic. I feel so lucky to have found someone that I can spend so much time with and be so happy. Toronto was one of Yan’s Christmas gifts to me, and it was wonderful.

5. December 4, 2010: The Santa Shuffle. Audrey, Yan and I all went out to do the Santa Shuffle at Tunney’s Pasture. I was so proud of Yan – it was his first 5km. He did so well! And I was shocked at the support from Audrey. She is a marathon runner, and I was expecting that she would run ahead and race the race. Instead, she stayed behind and cheered Yan on. She said she thought it was more important and fun to run with us than to run it as a race. I have amazing friends and I am constantly amazed by the things I learn from them. And the best part? Hot chocolate and a cookie after the run!

6. December 12, 2010: Lisa’s Birthday. It’s unusual now for me to see my sister. She floats in and out without much communication and we have such different schedules that we don’t get the chance to talk anymore. For this reason I was really looking forward to her birthday. It was a night that she gave entirely to the family. Shane, Gitanjali, Yan and I are normally around, but having Jake and Lisa is a rare event. We went to Lone Star and then opened gifts and ate cheesecake at home. It was a really great night, and I got to hear something I haven’t heard in a while – Lisa laughing.

7. December 15, 2010: Nativity. As a thank you to Yan for buying Trans-Siberian Orchestra tickets, Emma and Gennaro took Heather, Yan and I to see Nativity. We met at the Rideau Center and had dinner then went to see the show. Something exciting always happens around my friends, and tonight a bottle of water was spilt on the lady in front of us from the balcony above. Luckily, it mainly hit her jacket. Emma and Gennaro always make me laugh, and it’s great to see a couple that puts Yan at ease. The show was fun and I got to visit with some people from the NAC that I haven’t seen in over a year. It was so nice to be reminded of some of the people who have given me this wonderful enthusiasm for life.

8. December 16, 2010: A Blog Post. I was surprised to find, when I woke up on the 16th, that Heather had written a blog post about me and how I was exactly what she needed last year. The words could have been taken out of my mouth about her. Heather has said that she is a gesture kind of a girl: she reads affection and gives affection through gestures. I have never been good at giving affection, and even less so at gestures, and this just blew me away. I felt so loved , so appreciated, and so much warmth towards Heather. I have connected with her in a way that I haven’t with a friend in years. I am so lucky to have her in my life, and this is the most precious gift I have received this year.

9. December 17, 2010: Secret Santa. Heather invited me to her Secret Santa party. I was really excited, but also very nervous. I’m not good at coming into an already established group of friends, but this year she also invited Val and Emma, so it made the transition easier. Val was so nice to drive both Emma and I, and Emma came and put up with hyper me despite being sick. The party was a lot of fun, and after a couple of glasses of wine, I was right in there talking to everyone. I didn’t want to leave. I had such a great time and I am so happy to finally spend some of it with Heather’s friends. She is an important part of my life, and so I feel that they should be as well. And when I got home that night my Grandma Withers was there to greet me. We stayed up talking until 1:00am. And for those of you who do not know me, that is WAY past my bedtime.

10. December 18, 2010: Tree and Stuart McLean. Doing the tree is a very important thing in most families, and we are no exception to the rule. We get all decked out in Santa hats, blast Christmas music and dance while decorating the tree. It is truly a family affair in my home, and this year we are lucky enough to have my grandmother and only one broken ornament! And after the tree, we went to see Stuart McLean at the NAC. The show is never AMAZING, but it is nevertheless my favourite thing to see and I look forward to it all year. In my three years of working at the NAC he was the only performer who ever thanked us, and I can’t help but leave that show with a smile. Not only that, but I got to see Ken that night, and he has a contagious happy go lucky attitude that I can’t help but love.

11. December 22, 2010: Trans-Siberian Orchestra. Yan took the day off of work to start (and finish!) all of his Christmas shopping. So after an exhausting day, we left with Shane and Gitanjali to pick up Heather in farhaven. We met up with Emma and Gennaro at Boston Pizza, and after a great dinner (with enough piano lessons for everyone!) we went to see the concert. It was long, but it was so much fun. We danced, we joked around, and we sang horribly! It was such a great night, and I couldn’t help but be hyper with all of the love from my friends, the excitement from the concert, the Christmas spirit, and the fact that I am one lucky girl.

12. December 24-25 2010: Christmas Eve. Once again I hit the life jackpot. Yan and I will never have to worry about which house to go to and fight over Christmas arrangements, because I am marrying into a Quebec family with a very different tradition. Yan and his family celebrate Reveillon. I absolutely adore the tradition. We stay up playing games, watching movies, playing with the dogs, talking and having a really late dinner. At midnight, the gifts are opened. His family is absolutely some of the most generous people I have ever met, and I feel so welcome in their home. Life is a jackpot every way I seem to turn...
My family is always together on Christmas day. This will be the first year that someone is not there. Shane will be celebrating with Gitanjali. I know this is a transition period in our life, and Christmas’ together will become fewer and fewer, but I will still mourn the change. Nevertheless, Shane will be home in the morning and Christmas will pass as per usual. And what better day than Christmas to accept change? A new year is approaching, things will be changing, and I am as ready as ever to step forward.


Life is an adventure. Embrace it, embrace others, and bounce your way through!! It is cliché, but it’s true that you never know how much of it you have left.

Mind-less

In the face of old age this past weekend, I couldn’t’ help but wonder about the makings of the human mind. In particular, memories. My Dad was driving us around Calgary and I was reflecting on the many times I’ve been there, and all the memories of the back of my father’s head while he drove. The memories seem endless. Obviously they are not, but it is interesting how childhood memories feel so infinite. Maybe it is because the childhood brain hasn’t fully developed, but it is a little more interesting to view it from a philosophical standpoint. The mind collects but doesn’t quantify at such an early age. And even the term ‘collects’ isn’t appropriate. Most collectors can put a number to the items and even characteristics of their treasures. But the childhood mind masses memories into a ubiquitous blob. And in this age of classification, where each subset is carefully delineated, I find it hard to reconcile my need to classify with my inability to.

I can’t help but see poetry to the end of my grandmother’s life. Alzheimer’s is slowly ravaging her brain and is only leaving her this innocent conglomerate of childhood memories to depart this world. In her conscious state, she will leave much the same way she entered. The parallel is uncanny, and even cruel. But I think reliving those experiences may in fact be a blessing. The mind granting a gift to its host. A gift, even, to those close to her. Diseases like Alzheimer’s are a crescendo of staccato notes blaring at us with all their intensity, reminding us not to sweat the small stuff. All the chaos, all the seeming turmoil of life and its decisions won’t matter to my Grandmother when she finally leaves us. All that will matter are her memories and the collection of people around her – shades of her past or not.

And in the end, the mind decides it all for her – as does all of our minds. This super organ acting the rules of God.

It’s funny to see that it takes our childhood last, as a reminder of that blob of memories. For some reason whenever I think of this, the image of my father’s head driving the car always pops into my head. A metaphor for the direction of my life? Not likely...but I do know that many of my happy memories are from that view – looking at him driving a car, anxious for the end of whatever road we were taking. And although I’m not anxious for the end of my life’s road, at least I can be at peace with the knowledge that my childhood innocence can be tapped into through these memories. Even if it is the last thing my mind leaves me.

Yan

I wrote this for Yan when I was in England, and I feel even stronger about it now, knowing that we are spending our lives together. I love you Yan!



I don’t know where to begin. How to say it...I just don’t have the same talent for words as you do. I look down to my keyboard. Frustrated. Lost. Nothing comes out. “Damn it” I speak aloud. I hear the vibrations of someone’s alarm next door, urging me that time is always watching. Never waiting. Always passing.

I remember the days we spent together. The times we laughed. Your constant jokes. Moments of intimacy and moments of passion. So infused that I can never tell which one is which. Which one is real. All I know is the great emotions I feel towards you. Always changing. Growing but not weaning. Evolving into a confused mass that I can’t seem to understand. If only I could grasp it and understand it. “Then you would understand” I find myself saying aloud.

But I was determined. I would write you something. Poetry seems lost to me in these academic days. It’s hard to write something when all you do is read and criticize. Read and criticize. Pull apart and reconstruct. How tender was life when I wrote those words to you? How easy? How close...

I picture your face and the words I would use to describe it. Masculine. Determined. Strong. But behind that face stands a man. A child. The person I love. Your weaknesses and fears all apparent as you confide in me day by day. Confidence. Loyalty. None of it sums up who you are.

I remember the words on your mirror. Words that brought me closer to you when I first walked into your space. The place you have defined as your own. I thought it so amazing that one could surreptitiously learn so much about another through their choices of living. And yet get everything wrong. Who was I to judge when my room seems to lack the true reflection of me? Then again, is there ever a true effigy?

I think about what all this means. It is hard not to look and yearn to the past for inspiration. Especially when it is history that has always inspired me. My past with you contains nothing but happiness. I know inside that there were other times. Pain. Sadness. Sorrow. Longing. But these times are all erased in the face of what you mean to me and what I feel for you.

And I grasp at it again. That thin explanation that seems to hover in my mind. Telling me what it is, but mockingly drawing away each inch I move towards it. Close. Far. Close. Far.

I know what I feel for you is strong. I know it is here. I reach out to you, looking for answers. But you aren’t here. You are at home. Where I should be... At your side... But the independent side of me tore me from you. And I cannot argue against what I am. You have never tried. Yet I still fight. Against reason and your better judgment. More of your virtues: Acceptance. Patience.

“Damn it”. I say again. The room gets darker. Time is chasing me now. Faster. Stronger. The more alive time feels, the more alive my fingers become. I do not understand it. I don’t try to. I just write and watch as the words come. No editing. No backspace. Space. Word. Space. Word. The end never in sight.

“I just can’t get it” I think aloud. Then I remember your encouragement. Your hand on the small of my back reassuring me forward. A very conservative, archaic motion, with modern insistence. You were always good at letting me find my own solutions. Leading the way. Teaching. Guiding.

It is like you are everything to me. All emotions. All descriptions. Picking some in no way defines who you are, and in picking all I lose your essence. Who you are will never truly be described by anyone. I doubt even you could describe who you are with distinct accuracy. I think back on lessons of long ago. Ice breakers in grade school. Ironic.

And like you, my feelings towards you will never be understood. Never written to perfection. I do not in any way believe I could convey it properly. But so many try. So many writings. Poems. Songs. Novels. I just can’t seem to grasp it enough. But did they grasp it either? I doubt it. No one would question love if love was understood. There would be nothing left to write.

All I know is I love you. You are the best and worst part of me. You inspire my life and destroy it as ‘my’ becomes ‘our’. Love. Affection. Longing. All of these are as much a part of me as you. As those of the past who tried to define love. Of those who have come and gone. All the while searching for meaning.

I look to the end of the page on the computer screen. And I know there is only one appropriate way to end this. My story is you.

My Last Lecture?

I spent today reading The Last Lecture by Randy Pausch, and as he predicted, I began to wonder what I would lecture on.

I always had the notion that if I was ‘lucky’ enough to know that I was dying, I would write letters. I would write to all the wonderful people in my life. I would tell them how their influence pushed me to achieve my dreams, how their words motivated me, and how they held me up when I was having trouble reconciling life with my perceived vision of how it should be.

I would write to all the people I had hurt and offer my sincerest apologies. I wouldn’t ask for forgiveness, I wouldn’t even try to explain why I felt things ended the way they did between us. I would simply apologize and tell them what wonderful people they are, and how I appreciated them being in my life.

I would write to all the people that had hurt me. I wouldn’t say they had hurt me. I wouldn’t even offer forgiveness, unless they asked. I would tell them how they influenced me to become the person I am and how they themselves are good people.

All these letter would be hand written. My personal touch to a legacy of people I met along my path.

But a lecture?

A lecture is something completely different. Last Lectures are supposed to impart some sort of wisdom to an audience of people that are likely 80% strangers. My letter legacy would only address the significant people in my own life, in a sort of selfish way. A Last Lecture is meant to be selfless, to teach people and help them live better through the speaker’s sufferings. But what would I lecture about?

In my 23 years of life I haven’t gained much wisdom. I can teach people about my philosophy on life, about determination, and about motivation, but what student can’t? I am not wise in a conventional or even nonconventional sense. I haven’t reached a point in my life where I would have that kind of advice to give, that kind of motivational speech that is meant to make others move for the betterment of their lives.

I don’t think wisdom necessarily comes from adversity. It can come from an upbringing, a shocking event, or even just compassion from watching someone else. I hope that in time I will become wise, that I will have an answer to what kind of lecture I would deliver, but I also know that time doesn’t equate learning or wisdom. And in my selfish survival instinct, I don’t want a terminal illness that may bring wisdom. I would chose to survive over imparting words to strangers.

So in short Dr. Pausch, thank you so much for sharing your words, your wisdom. The Last Lecture will stick with me as I continue to contemplate mine.

They always say that time is what you make of it. I just hope that I have enough of it to learn.

My Fairy Tale

Most little girls have their fairy tale wedding planned before they can even understand love. I was never that girl. I never held to the expectation that what I wanted at so young an age would be what I wanted later on. My mother always said I was wise beyond my years.

I used to write myself notes when I was a kid. I would write them for the future me. The me who was ‘old’, aka 20. I found some of those notes. One of them said: “It doesn’t matter. Nothing matters as long as you love him”. Wise indeed.

I feel like this is the same stance I am taking with my wedding. It doesn’t matter how many people are there. It doesn’t matter how many things go wrong. Nothing matters as long as we are getting married. That’s all that matters: we are getting married.

And because of this, I had no expectations for the ‘perfect’ engagement.

We had been backpacking for 2.5 weeks already. We had seen so much: England, Belgium and Germany, and now we were exploring the country of my passion: Greece. I’ve spent so long studying it and dreaming about going, that being there was like a dream. I didn’t even realize I was there until after I had left. Yan was the same way. We were on the Acropolis. We saw the Parthenon. We walked the same streets as Cimon, Pericles, Aristotle, Plato, Alcibiades, and so many others whose stories I could recount over and over again. We were there. In the heart of everything I loved.

After two days of exploring Athens, we took a day trip out to Cape Sounion. Located at the southern tip of mainland Greece, it was a beautiful site. I wanted to see the Temple of Poseidon – one of the most important temples in Ancient Greece. We saw it as we turned a corner on the bus. Sitting there on a cliff by the water was the temple. It was beautiful. Little did I know that this would be the place for many more dreams, not just the ones I knew of the past.


It was 45 degrees Celsius. We weren’t exactly the most attractive of people when we made it to the top, dripping with sweat and gasping for more water. I walked around taking pictures as Yan made his way to the cliff to look over at the water. He called me over and I smiled, excited to see what he had discovered. I pointed out at the boats, taking pictures and telling Yan stories. He was distant, but I was too excited to notice how nervous he was.


Looking at the temple he asked “Chandra, do you want to spend the rest of your life with me?”. I laughed and said yes. He was always asking this question, so I thought nothing of it, until he reached into his pocket. He pulled out the box and opened it and my hands went straight to my mouth.

“Then I have a question to ask. Will you marry me?” I cried and said yes. Then in typical Chandra fashion, I tackle hugged him and we kissed.

He told me later that he had planned out an entire speech in French, but when he got there, he just forgot all the words because he was so nervous. He didn’t kneel because it was too rocky. He said he was a little upset because it didn’t go exactly as he had planned.

I didn’t care. I loved it. It was so Yan and it was so me. Everything was perfect, and I had no idea what my perfect was. That’s how I knew he was right for me – he always knows my perfect. He knows my fairy tale ending. And in the end it didn’t matter.

I have no idea what that note I wrote years ago was in reference to. But at least I now understand what it means: “It doesn’t matter. Nothing matters as long as you love him.”

Choices

Commitment.

That is one terrifying word! I know I certainly used to be afraid of it. One day I was ready, the next I was warning Yan not to ask me because I would say no. I didn’t know what I wanted. Like everything else in my life right now, I was lost.

This is the time for me where decisions have to be made. I am walking through a forest of various pathways. All are open to me. All are inviting. But there are no clues as to what lies at the end of each path, or what I may encounter along the way. And the further I walk, the narrower my choices. The narrower each path becomes. It’s terrifying and exhilarating at the same time.

My father told me that he loves watching us, his children, at this point in our lives because we have so many decisions, so many ways we COULD go. He will support us no matter what we choose. It’s just about making that decision.

As a child we are told we can do anything. It’s true. But unless that child is set upon a goal so concretely in their mind, the options are endless and the outcome confusing. I have two degrees: a BA in History and Classical Studies, and an MA in Greek and Roman Archaeology. I did what I wanted to do, but now I have no idea where these are taking me. I’m excited to find out, and afraid of possible failure.

And yet I am making decisions. I left law school. I choose to sign up for German classes. I contacted old professors to ask about possible PhD opportunities. And I applied for a TA position. I am making decisions, and slowly losing fear. Each day my path becomes clearer, and each day I understand where I am going.

I can’t see clearly yet, but I can see the next turn.

Life is always full of adventures...

Friendships

I need to get this out. I’m just so frustrated right now. I don’t understand the twists and turns of some friendships. And most of the time, I think it’s my lack of understanding that brings about these twists and turns.

I’ve never found being close to people easy. I like to keep my distance and just stay friendly. That way things stay fun, and I don’t have to be vulnerable. Many of my friends don’t know all the sides of me, they know me as a person, and they know my hopes and dreams.... but they don’t need to see grumpy Chandra. She is reserved for Yan...

I think the older we grow, the more our priorities change. We go from “best friends” into relationships that define our lives. I haven’t had a “best friend” since grade 10, and that ended when we both entered into our first relationships. Since then, things have changed.

Now my “best friend” will always be Yan. He is my mentor, my student, and my soul mate. He is the one I rely upon for any emotion that comes my way. He does the duties that a childhood friend fulfilled years ago.

When I look at most of my friends now, it’s the same way. We have a network of friends, but no “best friend”. We’ve evolved into a new sort of relationship with our friends. Most of us have less and less time to see each other, as our lives become filled with work and responsibilities to the one we love. We are busier and have a hard time getting together. So we are losing friends, as distance creates a gap. But we still keep each other close. Not as close as High School, or even undergrad, but still comfortably close. But I don’t mourn the past – I look upon the present as a new and exciting adventure. Change isn’t always for the worst, especially when others are changing along with you.

I know I can rely on all my friends. I can call them if I need help and any one of them would find the time to listen. I am truly blessed by the amazing people in my life, and that they understand where I am in mine.

Life is harder and harder as it goes on. Ironic coming from someone who is 23, but I am slowly being crushed by the responsibilities that come with leaving home. Luckily I have my fiancée to help me, and my friends to laugh with when we are so frustrated that we just need to get our rant on!

And yet, I have lost a lot of friends along the way. Megan – my cute and lovable Megan. She always knew how to make me smile, and always supported me when I needed a friend the most. It was like she had a sixth sense and would call me up when I was upset. And I lost her to misunderstanding. God I miss her.


And now another friend: Brian. We were so close, but recently things have been tense because our friendship has caused a rift with his significant other. I understand because our friendship didn’t evolve as my other friendships evolved. We remained the same and his significant other wasn’t comfortable with it. And today I made the rough decision to be the bigger person and tell him that things have to change. I’m horrified that I will lose him. And god knows I’ll miss him too.


I sit here today nostalgic, confused, and very depressed. I miss Megan and Brian, but I have to remember that I have so many other friends. And although I’m sure I’ll lose others along the way, I know that I will always have support in those who remain. I will always have Yan, my “best friend”.

I’m looking forward to the future, with my network of friends. I love them all and I cherish every minute I have free to see them. True, those moments are sparse, but it’s not about the amount of time we spend together, it’s about how we spend that time. And god knows we know how to have a good time.

Thank you, to all my friends, past and present.

An Adventure to bring Adventures

So today is my last day with internet. *horrified gasps through the crowd*. I know - what can anyone do without the internet? To be honest, I prefer to be unreachable. I like the idea of being able to disappear. To enjoy the moment for what it is, without my cell phone going off, or someone's twitter tweeting. Sometimes it's better to disconnect.

I was wondering today what life was like without the internet. I lived through it, but somehow I can't seem to remember it. What did people do? How did they reach each other easily? I mean, who picks up a phone nowadays anyway? I'll just Facebook stalk them. No human contact needed.

And in some ways its a better world - so much information being passed around from person to person, country to country, and organization to the masses. Don't get me wrong - I like the world with the internet and all the abilities and resources it gives me. Hell, I'm writing this blog aren't I? But at the same time, I'm looking forward to my backpacking trip. I'm looking forward to forgetting this massive brain that continues to grow synapses day after day. Frankly, my own brain needs a rest from the expansion.

My significant other arrives on Saturday morning, and after a couple of days of saying goodbye to wonderful friends in Newcastle, we are off on the adventure of our lives. He likes to say its the beginning of many adventures to come - I like to agree. And me agreeing is a terribly rare moment for Yan.

Life is full of adventures, you just have to be willing to embrace them. I have always chased my dreams - my Mother knew it when I was younger, and the world is finding it out now. I am fiercely independent in many ways, and dreaming is the one thing no one else may own. I chase my dreams. I am determined to live them. Does this make me naive? Passionate, maybe, but naive, certainly not. I believe that those who would call my life goals naive are the ones who have difficulties dreaming. Ones who are afraid to think back on childhood reveries. Its sad that the spark seems to die in so many. I've been close to losing it too. But I refuse to let it die. I will dream, and I will experience, and the spark will evolve with me. I will see the world, and I will try as many things as possible. Life is about opportunity. No. Life is about making your own opportunity.

So here we come world! One month of internet free disconnection, and I'm ready to embrace it! I'm ready to set my inner child free. I'm ready to live my dream and experience my adventure...

In short: bring it on.

A Father's Day Promise

I sent this to my father for Father's Day, and I figure that publishing it will help me live up to the promise I made. I love you Dad!

For Dad

It’s hard to look back and try and say everything that inspired me, everything that made me who I am based on who you are, everything that influenced where I am today and my passion for what I do. I could sum it up in one word, but that’s too cliché. Like a horrible Hallmark card. And the last thing I want is for you to open this up and see one paragraph with the conclusion: Dad.

And although this conclusion rings truth, it also doesn’t express the symptoms that led to that diagnosis. See: trait one – you taught me to be analytical. But with a fear of having this sound like your retirement speech, the last thing I want is for you to open this up and see a reiteration of everything I’ve said before.

So what can I do? I don’t seem to be left with much. Poetry? Nah... that’s meant for mothers! A card? That’s not enough. After all, this holiday is meant to celebrate our relationship. The father’s relationship to his child. No card can do that. Not even Hallmark.

But how can you sum up a relationship? Millions of employees sitting at that card factory try year after year to come up with a catch phrase, with something sentimental, with something that suits different relationships. And that’s how you can tell a child’s relationship to their father – the card they choose to buy them. And most of us kids being at a loss for words, like me now, find it easier to have someone else say exactly what they want to say.

And maybe that was said already. By the Japanese representative in Rome, “Thank you for letting me see you and your Dad together. I wish I could have a relationship with my daughter like you do with your father”.

But I can’t have someone else say it this year. I’m so far away, and a card isn’t enough. I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for you. Most father’s wouldn’t provide, or even couldn’t provide, this opportunity for their children. But when I asked you about it, there was no hesitation. I gave you my reasons, I spelt out the importance of the program to me, and you agreed, with undying support. And even now I know I can count on you. I can call you up at anytime and you will listen to every word. Even if you are busy. Not many girls can say that about their Dads.


I can only hope to be as good of a mother as you are a father. You have taught me so much about life, about people, and about handling difficult situations. You have taught me the importance of loving the person in your life and supporting them through good and bad times. You have taught me to embrace the flaws of others, forgive others, and see that sometimes everyone just needs an enemy. Even if that enemy is me.

You are my Dad. You are everything to me and this world is a better place with you in it. My childhood was perfect. My adolescence was perfect. My early adult years are perfect. And although there is always pain and there are always let downs, you’ve taught me to take them stoically and to learn how to face the challenge better the next time. After all, I am a Scott.

I know this isn’t much. I could have written pages about your positive influence in my life – but then what would be left for the years to come? So here is my promise: every father’s day I will write you something. Not a poem. Not a Hallmark card. It will be a written work. I don’t know the forms it will take, but it will depend on where I am in my life and what that means to us. All I know is that this year, being so far away, I have come to feel a stronger bond to my family, and thus to you. I miss you so much and I love you so much. No girl has ever been luckier than I am as your daughter. You mean the world to me, as I know we all do to you. And not many kids can say that with certainty. You have been the perfect father for us and I couldn’t imagine anything else. I wouldn’t change anything. Life is wonderful, despite your adage that it sucks. I guess that’s where I take after Mom.

I love you Dad!
Babydoll

A moment's dream

Hello everyone!

I've been delaying and delaying creating a blog. I feel like I don't have enough to say to the world, and worry more about what the world has to say to me. For years I've been writing a personal journal...sometimes just with reminders of what I did that day, others with my views on life and philosophy, more about academia, and less and less about the drama surrounding my life. I thought I could escape it, I thought I would find my moment's dream.

As it turns out, drama seems to follow no matter where your life takes you. It either sneaks its way in, crashes unexpectedly, or slowly encroaches. What matters is how you deal with it. My philosophy is to take things day by day and hope for the best. I hate confrontation, and outright anger even more, but I support communication, and sometimes the two collide. As long as the lines stay open, there's no need to worry.

So I decided to create a blog. I don't know why I've chosen to do it now, but it certainly is an interesting time in my life. I've been living in England working on my Masters for a year. It's a time of transition and uncertainty: from complicated friendships, confusion over careers, my significant other returning to my life, moving back to Canada, and starting law school, this is sure to be an interesting time together! I want to make the most of it. I want to find my moment's dream...