Happy Birthday to me!

Happy Birthday to me!

The blog turns three today. & I can’t fucking believe it.

As always, this time of the year hits me with a confused, emotional mix of pride & embarrassment: making it to the three year mark means that I’m still ridiculously alone, but it also means that I’ve stuck with it. I made a commitment to myself (& you guys) 1095 days ago (give or take a few), & somehow I’ve managed to keep it up.

That’s something pretty amazing, especially for a commitment-phobe like me. &, if you’re reading this (which I hope you are), that means that you’ve kept it up, too. So in celebration of our joint commitment to one another, in lieu of a big ol’ diamond ring, here’s the top ten posts from the last 365 days!

134. Maybe it’s because all the good ones are taken?

140. Maybe it’s because I’m STILL, still unnaturally close with my BFF?

123. Maybe it’s because…

136. Maybe it’s because I’m in love (I think).

115. Maybe it’s because I don’t know what I want.

116. Maybe it’s because I’m an over-sharer?

139. Maybe it’s me?

131. Maybe it’s because I’m in Vancouver.

120. Maybe it’s because I’m not likeable?

135. Maybe it’s because I’m old-fashioned?

Thank you so much to all the beautiful people, here at home & all around the world, who support me. Whether it’s through reading, sharing, liking, commenting, or holding me when I’m convinced I’ll never write (or date) ever again–there are no words to express how much I appreciate you guys.

Thank you, thank you, thank you. Here’s to another year!

158. Maybe it’s because the future is nigh.

158. Maybe it’s because the future is nigh.

I’ve been thinking a lot about my future lately. I applied for graduation today, &, although the process itself was seriously anti-climatic, it made me realize how final the end of this school year will be. School will be over.

Excuse me while I freak out.

I’ve never finished anything in my life, so I’m feeling anxious about finishing a goddamn degree, & I’m also nervous about what comes next. Where am I supposed to go from here? What’s the next step? I will be leaving the structured environment of a post-secondary institution for the significantly less cozy real world, & I’m scared. But excited. But terrified. But happy. But all of the above, all the time, all at once.

It’s quite the emotional roller coaster. & right now, I’m just letting it ride.

Over the last three & a half years, I took my passion & channeled it into something that might turn into a career. I gave myself a direction. It’s comforting. I might not know where I’m headed, but I know which way I’m going.

Maybe it’s because I’m taking a personal day.

Maybe it’s because I’m taking a personal day.

I can’t believe we are already halfway through November–where did the last two weeks of my life go? Actually, the real question is…where did the last 6 months go? I’m caught in some sort of time warp. Months feel like days, weeks feel like hours, & days… well, those are gone in a blink of an eye it seems.

So, this Sunday snuck up on me & in lieu of posting about my relationship status, I decided to take a personal day to try & catch up on my life instead. I hope y’all don’t mind. I’m just at the point where life is getting in the way of life, & I just really, really, really need a day dedicated to getting my shit together.

Please don’t be mad.


157. Maybe it’s because I’m waiting.

157. Maybe it’s because I’m waiting.

I think I met my soulmate, but I’m scared to tell him so. I’m also unsure as to what the appropriate delivery of that information should be. Should I text him? Blurt it out mid-conversation? Hire a plane to write it in the sky?

But, maybe I need to back up a minute here. Because y’all might be wondering what the hell I’m babbling about.

So, I’ll take it back in time to when I had my cards read this summer at a mini weekend getaway for a friend’s birthday. A friend of my friend had recently been gifted a set of Tarot cards, & she’d brought them out to practice her new talent on everybody. I’ve had my cards read once before, & I found it to be pretty fulfilling, so I jumped at the chance to get another glimpse into my future.

This time, though, I meant business. There were things that I wanted, nay, needed, to know.

When will I find love? I thought it over & over & over again as I shuffled the large cards in my clumsy hands. I just wanted to know if I was going to be alone forever–I needed to know if I should prepare for a lifelong sentence as a singleton. I shuffled, shuffled, shuffled the cards. Thinking hard as I shuffled. Asking the universe: When will I find love? Or something to that effect, anyway. I was drinking, it was a few months ago, things are fuzzy.

Thinking, shuffling, thinking, shuffling. Losing myself in the deck of cards. & then–one popped out. It landed squarely on the coffee table in front of me, & I reached out to include it back in the deck.

“No!” The girl reading them stopped me. “There’s a reason that one jumped out. That’s the card.” She looked at me, “That’s what will answer your question.”

I don’t remember what card it was. The Knave of Something. & the Knave of anything means some sort of new beginning, in this case, one of love. This Knave, if I’m remembering correctly, also came with a time frame. So, it was something like–you’re not going to find love immediately but hang tight because you’re either going to find love 6 weeks from now (which at that point in time would’ve taken me somewhere around the middle of October) or in the Spring.

October has come & gone, though, & I’m still alone… Which means that I’ve probably come across my soulmate & just neglected to assert the fact that we’re a perfect match or I’m set to fall in love this Spring. But, that’s okay–because soulmates go two ways. I’m going to hold off on the public displays of affection until he’s ready, because I don’t have the time to chase the possibly love of my life down right now. He can come to me, for once.

So, I’ll be waiting right here. For him, or for Spring. Whichever comes first.


156. Maybe it’s because I’m financially irresponsible…

156. Maybe it’s because I’m financially irresponsible…

I don’t want to say that I am unaware of the value of a dollar, but I’m a touch on the fiscally irresponsible side.

I should never have been trusted with a credit card (or three).


I don’t know what it is, whether it was my financially-repressed upbringing, or my shopaholic genetics (here’s lookin’ at you, Ma), or my insatiable sense of style but I love to shop. I love it. It’s one of my hobbies–it might be my only hobby, actually. & it’s great to window shop, & you know, wander through boutiques touching, feeling, trying on, not buying. But, most times, that’s not enough. There’s a thrill that I get from purchasing something new that’s rivalled only by purchasing something new on sale. 

Buying things feels like coming home. I’m always thinking about how my wardrobe is growing, changing, evolving. & what holes I need to fill, what things I need to buy. There’s never wants when it comes to shopping. Only needs.

need thigh high boots. I need a navy crewneck. I need need need it all. Everything. Now.

I know department stores better than I know some of my own family members. I have an encyclopedic knowledge of Aritzia’s stock. I can tell you more about Lululemon’s product than most of the people who work there can.

I just love things. I love buying things, bringing them home, & introducing them to the family (also known as the rest of my wardrobe). Yeah, I know… I’m the poster child for capitalism. But–it costs money. Money that I don’t have, but choose to spend anyway. Therein lies the problem.

I am the least financially responsible person I know. I am crippled by student debt & yet still choose to spend, spend, spend on things I can’t afford & shouldn’t want. It’s not good. & it’s definitely a strike against me in the girlfriend material department. Not only am I a bonafide hoarder, but I’m also broke because of it.

Being poor isn’t cute. I’ve shovelled myself in & out of debt enough times to know that. I mean, it’s adorable in the movies (ala Cinderella, Pretty Woman, etc. etc.) but not in real life.

Money is a major source of tension in relationships. & that tension usually arises when there’s not enough of it–I’ve got to get my spending under control. No man wants a girl who chooses Gucci over groceries.

155. Maybe it’s because I’m seriously emotionally damaged.

155. Maybe it’s because I’m seriously emotionally damaged.

When I was 19, I thought I was in love. & I actually thought I had been in love for years before that–since a 10th grade English class, when I was thrown into a group by chance & met a boy. He was tall, with olive skin stretched across high cheekbones, thick brows topping his hooded, kind, & dark, dark, dark brown eyes, & he made me laugh. He made me laugh & he was nice to me at a time when not a lot of other people were… something that became a theme of our friendship.

He was a great friend–he was my best friend.

I loved him & he loved me, but he never loved me the way I wanted him to… no matter how hard I thought I tried. & when we were both 19 (or actually, the day before he turned 20) we moved into a house he had bought, a house I had thought would be the house he’d fall in love with me (finally) in.

He didn’t, because I left, & because of other things as well. Or maybe he did, & I left anyway. I don’t know–I have the privilege of remembering the things I want to remember & dulling the things that I don’t want to. I decided one day, after 5 years of friendship, & 3 months of living together, & 2 weeks of him neglecting to talk to me, to leave. I woke up that morning living in a room down the hall from his & I fell asleep that night in my parents’ place, curled up under the love of my mother & away from all the things that I thought were causing me pain.

& it’s not something I wish I could change (because it’s an action that led me to be the person I am today) but it is something I wish I could change, still. I wish I could take the maturity I have now & just slap my past self with it: tell myself, no, stop, WAIT. Think. Don’t do.

But it’s done. & it effected me in ways that I never really let myself realize.

Until now.

I haven’t had a meaningful relationship, platonic or otherwise, with a dude since him. It’s embarrassing to admit, maybe, but I don’t care. I hold guys at an arm’s length. I don’t like to connect with men unless they are blatantly non-threatening or unavailable. I don’t like to set myself up in a situation that might result in something more than just distant, one-sided, affection. That’s the reason I pine after Barista Boy, or that guy in class who I’ve never talked to, or my friends. Because deep down I know nothing’s ever gonna come of it, so I don’t have to relive the same pain I experienced when I was a teenager, barely an adult, & had no idea what I was doing.

I put myself in situations that I know won’t result in anything… because emotionally I just can’t handle it.

It’s a goddamn defence mechanism, & the reason why I’m alone.


154. Maybe it’s because I’m insecure.

154. Maybe it’s because I’m insecure.

My BFF once told me that men are attracted to confidence. I was getting down on myself for being alone, & lonely, & not having a boyfriend, & I just–I just couldn’t understand why men didn’t (don’t) like me. I mean, I had a few ideas as to why, but I was honestly just really confused, annoyed, & frankly pretty frustrated as to why dudes just weren’t that into me, ever.


It’s been a few years since then, & I kind of have a better understanding of why I’m alone, & I am less bothered by my constant alone-ness, but every once in a while (like last night when I was watching Laggies & desperately hoping Sam Rockwell would fall in love with me) I feel this sharp longing, piercing me right in the sternum, & I wish, I wish, I wish, I had someone. I wish that I was special to someone & that someone was special to me–in the biblical sense (if you know what I mean). It’s strange to admit it–I’ve gotten used to being independent, & I like being independent, & I don’t even know how I would function in a relationship because I’m self-centred as fuck but I have the normal human longing for companionship.

So, sue me.

I’ve been thinking quite a bit lately about why I’m alone. Like, actually why. One of my friends, one of my good friends, thinks it has nothing to do with my abrasive personality or appearance but more to do with the situations I put myself in. I go from work to school to work to home & there’s not a whole lot of opportunities to meet men along the way. That’s a fair assumption, I suppose. But what I think it really comes down to is the way I present myself. Not desperate, no. But, a little unsteady in my own identity. Slightly off-kilter, & not in the endearing way (I’m not nearly cute enough to be weird & awkward). In other words… I’m insecure. 


I am still figuring out who I am (who isn’t?) & sometimes I’m going to be a touch apprehensive about certain things (like, for example, men!). That means one of two things: either I am not ready to be in a relationship or I need to buck up, remove the training wheels, & just fucking try something with someone.

Relationships are like pasta, after all. Sometimes you just got to throw it all against the wall & see what sticks.

153. Maybe it’s because I’m terrified.

153. Maybe it’s because I’m terrified.

This might be the commitment-phobe in me talking, but I find conversations with available guys daunting.

Men are scary.

It will be fine at first–I like talking to people–but then it’s almost like I realize that I’m talking to a member of the opposite sex & something shifts. I get a little more cautious. I get a little more self-conscious. I get a little less… me. & god help us all if he’s cute, because then I turn into an even bigger weirdo–I just don’t know the appropriate way to interact with dudes, particularly available dudes, particularly available & adorable dudes who I’d like to go on a date with, maybe.

I forget how to just be myself & end up either over- or under-exaggerating details of my personality that don’t really matter. I prescribe to my Breakfast Club persona–I’ll be the princess, or the clown, or the nerd… depending on the day. The point is, none of it is really that real–it’s all a carefully constructed character. &, for some reason, it’s something I can’t control. It’s a defence mechanism. It’s like, maybe if I don’t let guys actually get to know me I won’t have to worry about it when they don’t actually like me. Right?

I am so caught up in eventualities that I refrain from dealing with the actual situation at hand. A conversation can never just be a conversation with me because I’m always weighing out the what-ifs & worst case scenarios in my head. What if he thinks I’m pretty? What if he thinks I smell bad? What if he thinks I’m smart? What if he thinks [insert absolutely anything here]? My mind knows no limitation when it comes to extrapolations. Because, then, I take those what-ifs & immediately construct alternate realities around them. So, what if he thinks I’m pretty, & then we hang out, & then he likes me, & then I have to spend the rest of my life with him? For example. Or, what if he thinks I’m an idiot, & notices the way I just accidentally almost choked on that baby carrot, & tells everybody that he knows about the dumb girl who can’t even eat properly despite what her body shape might suggest?

The easiest way for me to avoid any or all of these worst case scenarios is to just never talk to men in the first place, unless they are emotionally unavailable or, well, gay. Unless they are safe. 

Because, here’s the thing, sometimes even a conversation is risky. Sometimes even making eye contact across a room is. Sometimes doing anything that might even slightly indicate that you don’t hate the person in question is equivalent to, I don’t know, jumping out an airplane? Or something else really scary.

& this is why I’ll be forever alone. I’m too much of a fucking chicken to make small talk with cute boys, much less deal with the emotional turmoil that comes with it.

Speaking of chicken, I hope all my Canadian readers are enjoying some turkey this weekend (I know I will be)!

Happy Thanksgiving you crazy Canucks, you.

152. Maybe it’s because I’m too BUSY.

152. Maybe it’s because I’m too BUSY.

My life is such a goddamn mess right now. It feels like every single day brings with it a new deadline & I’m passed overwhelmed & entering mental breakdown territory.


School has been more intense in the last three weeks than its been in the last three years. I can’t even–it’s insanity. I’m going crazy. I’ve been juggling work (times 2) with school, & it just doesn’t leave a whole lot of room for anything else. I don’t have time for all the things I need to do, much less the things I want to.

Woe is me, right?

So, no boys to report. No life to report. Just an endless cycle of work, school, food, & (sometimes) sleep. Oh, & probably way too much drinking (sorry mum).

Until further notice, I’ll be drowning sorrows in fermented fruit juice & stringing words together as coherently as possible. At this rate, I might have time to date around mid-April?

151. Maybe it’s because I’m selfish.

151. Maybe it’s because I’m selfish.

I did a really shitty thing. I’m not even going to try to disguise it, or sugarcoat it, or frame it in a way that doesn’t make me look like an utter asshole. Because, at the end of the day, what I say doesn’t matter–what really matters is how I feel. & right now I feel like a selfish asshole.

So, what’d I do? What horrible, awful, terrible deed did I commit? I broke something. Well, I actually probably broke a few things–trust, commitment, hearts. You know, all those things that are easily repaired.

Let me lay it all out for you here. I said–nay!–I committed to going to my friend’s wedding. I have been looking forward to her nuptials since before she even got engaged, & when her boyfriend (now fiancé) finally popped the question, I was ecstatic. I couldn’t have been happier for her if I tried. & I was happy for me too–they bounced around the idea of a destination wedding, & I was all for it (I mean, a wedding-tropical vacation combination, what more could a single gal want?). I am all about weddings (I’ve been to enough now to officially claim that, yes, they are an enjoyable experience) & I am all about beaches & I was all about this particularly wedding on this particular beach until (here is where I start to turn into an asshole, for the folks following along at home) a once-in-a-lifetime experience came up. Iceland.

Everybody loves Iceland. Right? Ever since Icelandair came about with their dirt cheap flights & stopover options, there’s not a single person who hasn’t at least thought about visiting the tiny, Nordic (?) nation. 

Show me someone who hasn’t, & I’ll show you a liar. 

Anyway–I caught wind of this amazing retreat in Iceland & all I could think about was how much I wanted to go. I checked out flights. Crunched numbers. Bought oversized sweaters–all the normal, pre-trip-to-Iceland things. Everything was falling into place, when all of a sudden, to my horror, I realized that Iceland & my friend’s wedding were going to be happening at the same time. 


Because I am the worst friend ever, I’m now going to Iceland in lieu of my friend’s wedding & as shitty as it makes me feel… there’s no way I could’ve not picked the adventure of a lifetime.

Sorry, girl.

I’m selfish. I know it. There’s just no way around it. But is it unfair to think that occasionally being selfish is warranted… & should even be encouraged? That maybe it’s a little bit okay to put yourself first every once in a while & take advantage of a possible career-propelling opportunity when it falls in your lap? It might just be me trying to make myself feel better… but (in true Millennial fashion) I definitely think that this brand of selfishness has a time & a place. It’s just unfortunate that it was the same time & different place as another commitment.

To my friend: I’m sorry. I hope you understand that this wasn’t easy for me–there were no coins flipped, no straws drawn, no flippant decision-making aids implemented. It was all me, pondering long & hard over what to do, & unfortunately… well, you know what happened. I wish you & your beau the best on your future wedding day. &, as possible penance, there will probably be an extravagant, expensive, & possibly authentically Icelandic wedding gift coming your way.

150. Maybe it’s because I’m never f-ing home.

150. Maybe it’s because I’m never f-ing home.

Labour Day Weekend has passed & school has officially started, which means that summer is over–at least for me it is. I’m sad about it, but also ready to get back into the school routine (complemented, of course, with a healthy dose of work).

Summer always seems to go by fast–too fast–& the older I get, the swifter it flies by. This year raced past especially quick, helped along by the fact that I spent most of it travelling around the country. From an impromptu road trip to Vancouver, to a mini trek to my parents’ lake lot in the Rockies, to my cross-country epic through the Canadian Shield to Toronto, I gave myself plenty of opportunities to wander the nation.

& it was awesome. But, as was pointed out by my BFF’s boyfriend on my most recent adventure, perhaps the reason a long-term relationship continues to elude me is due to the fact that I am never fucking home.


I don’t give myself enough time in one place to even start a relationship, much less maintain one… which is exactly why the longest-standing, consistent interaction with the opposite sex was with my Second Cup barista (oh, how I miss those sweet, sweet London Fogs… nobody makes them like he does). & even then, I was never able to pull the trigger & actually fucking talk to the guy, so all that time was really time wasted (not actually though, because even seeing his beautiful face was reward enough if I’m being honest). But my point still stands–4 months is not long enough to do anything really romantic. & the rate at which I’m choosing to travel (when I’m not hibernating in homework) is seriously hindering my chances of securing the role as someone’s other half.

I embraced my inner nomad this summer, & that might have led me away from the future love of my life here at home… but I think that’s an opportunity I’m okay with missing. & besides, who knows what kind of hunky, man-bunned babe I might meet on the road–a girl’s got to keep her options open after all.

Maybe it’s because I just need a minute.

Maybe it’s because I just need a minute.


I wish I had something more to say this week, but the truth is that starting back at school coupled with some sort of super virus invading my immune system has knocked me on my ass & I just couldn’t get it together enough to write anything.

Truthfully, I’ve been a phlegmy, dramatic mess of used tissues & snot, & my neck hurts from driving all the way across the country (twice), & I can’t seem to do anything right lately according to, well, me. So it’s been a struggle to get anything onto paper because all I want to do is delete, scratch out, & irreversibly maim everything I’ve written & crawl into bed & sleep for the rest of my life.

I’ve had writer’s block before, but this is like writer’s barricade. It’s the Berlin Wall of blocks. There’s an Iron Curtain around my brain & it’s just making my life miserable.

I know that it’s a bad combination of being sick & being stressed, but everything feels so hard right now. & yeah, I don’t want it to be easy… but I also don’t want to feel like each word is the difference between success & failure.

In other words, I’ve been too busy complaining & feeling bad about myself to figure out why I’m single this week, although… given my overall mood & the rate at which I’m expelling bodily fluids via my nostrils, I can’t say it’s that big of a mystery as to why I’ve been going home alone.

149. Maybe it’s because I’m on the road again.

149. Maybe it’s because I’m on the road again.

My days left in Toronto are waning. This bums me out–a lot. Seeing my BFF again just reminds me how much I miss her… I spend enough time with her to forget that it’s temporary, before I am swept back to Edmonton, back to school, back to my current life.

So I’m on the road again, en route to Edmonton (not via Sault Ste. Marie, if I have anything to say about it) to start my fourth & hopefully final year of my undergraduate degree. I am excited for school in the way that I am excited about anything that gets me closer to achieving my dream. School has opened up doors for me; it’s created a network of friends, writers, & other creative people & for that I am grateful. But I am ready to be free. I am ready to race across the stage, toss my cap in the air, & then jet off to the next step in my adventure–whatever that step may be.

But, I’m getting ahead of myself. My focus needs to be on the now, not the future (my now, right now, is making my way through wine bottle #2 with my BFF, but that is beside the point). I need to work on continuing to better myself, & my writing. I’ve got to keep my mind on the journey, because that’s what’s going to get me to my destination. & above all else, I’ve got to keep going.

Because, if there’s anything I’ve learned in my time in Toronto this year, it’s that opportunities look like hard work, perseverance is key in anything you do, & shoes always fit–unless they’re Valentinos.



148. Maybe it’s because I’m in Toronto… Again.

148. Maybe it’s because I’m in Toronto… Again.

It’s that time again! I am back in Toronto for my annual trip to see my BFF &, boy, does it feel good to be home.

This time, I skipped flying & decided to navigate my way across the country by car, which was amazing–despite the fact that I had to spend a night in Sault Ste. Marie & it rained the entire drive. But it was worth every inch because I’m here now, back where I belong, &, despite the inclement weather, I managed to see some really cool things along the way.

Somewhere between Thunder Bay & Sault Ste. Marie
Somewhere between Thunder Bay & Sault Ste. Marie

There was my pitstop in Winnipeg where I spent a morning hanging out with animals at the Assiniboine Zoo (I managed to get up close & personal with some polar bears, snowy owls, buffalo, & a cougar, among other creatures) before crossing the longitudinal centre of Canada to spend some time on the shores of Lake Superior via Thunder Bay’s marina. I’ve never had the pleasure of seeing a Great Lake before & it’s something I suggest everybody throws on their bucket list–immediately. It ranks with the Rocky Mountains for me as some of Mother Nature’s finest work.

Getting up close & personal with Hudson, one of the most famous resident polar bears at the Assiniboine Zoo’s Journey to Churchill exhibit. Photo cred: Katt Adachi
Blizzard, one of the polar bear cubs, hanging out near the pool.
Blizzard taking a dip. The polar bear cubs Humphrey, Blizzard, & Star had been introduced into the exhibit from the on-site Polar Bear Conservation centre the day before we went to the zoo. Talk about good timing!
A cougar on the prowl in her enclosure.
Snowy owls! They are the first animals you see on your way through the Journey to Churchill.
Buffalo! The white buffalo was an amazing sight to see.
Boats safely moored in the Thunder Bay marina.
This is me, pensively taking in the Sleeping Giant: a natural rock formation visible from the Thunder Bay Marina, that looks like a large human taking a snooze (as the name would suggest). Photo cred: Katt Adachi
The shores of Lake Superior, a little inlet called Old Woman Bay. Just a mind-blowing manifestation of natural beauty.

& now I’m in my favourite city with my favourite person, doing nothing on her front porch. & I’m so, so, so happy to be here.

We did all the tourist-y crap last year–climbing the CN tower, taking in a Jays game, & scoping out the city from the 51st floor at The One Eighty–but now we’re just taking it easy & enjoying the little time we have together. It’s not easy cramming a year of hanging out into ten days, but if anybody can do it… we can.

A little bit of inspiration c/o of some Thunder Bay public art.
147. Maybe it’s because I’m in Winnipeg (again)?

147. Maybe it’s because I’m in Winnipeg (again)?

Winnipeg is a Canadian city that doesn’t get a whole lot of love, & that doesn’t make any sense to me. I mean, it’s got so much to offer: Assiniboine Zoo (complete with the most adorable polar bears), Assiniboine Park, the Human Rights Museum, The Forks,  The Exchange, The Royal Mint, & the Winnipeg Art Gallery, not to mention it’s the birthplace of the best department store ever, The Hudson’s Bay… what’s not to love?

I love it so much, I’ve made a point to visit twice this summer.

The first visit (for a friend’s wedding) gave me a taste, but I had to come back to get the full experience. Luckily, I had a cross-country road trip in the works and it didn’t take a lot of persuading to convince my cross-country cohort that we needed to make a stopover in the ‘Peg.

So, after a 14 hour drive and a decent night’s sleep we are ready to tackle this town & all of its amenities before heading on the next leg of our trip: a quick dip down to Thunder Bay.

Wish us luck! & if there are any fellow Winnipeg-lovers out there, please let me know what your favourite part of the city is!