Happy Birthday to Me, Again!

Wordpress 2 Year Anniversary Notification

The blog turns two today, and I just cannot believe anything about anything that has happened to me in the last two years because of this project.

I have learned so much about myself through my writing, & I have grown in ways I could never have imagined. It’s been the most wonderful, emotional, crazy (literally crazy in some places) experience. It has reminded me how great the people in my life are, & it has given me something to be proud of. Not only am I shamelessly proud of myself, but I am so proud (& grateful) of everyone who has stood beside me through the whole process.

I never cease to be amazed by the support I get for my writing from my family, my friends, and all my wonderful fans on the big, beautiful internet whom I’ve yet to have the pleasure of meeting in real life.

You guys are all great, & without all of you I never would have made it this far.

I also never would have made it this far if I could find a man who actually wanted to be with me, but let’s just not talk about that. For once.

I think it is only appropriate to take a look back at the last 365 days & appreciate some of my (& your) favourite posts.

Top 11 Posts You Didn’t Know Were Your Favourite (because narrowing it down to just 10 was too damn hard):

11. Maybe it’s because I’m a terrible driver?

10. Maybe it’s because I can’t cook?

9. Maybe it’s because I’m old.

8. Maybe it’s because I can’t dance.

7. Maybe it’s my bun?

6. Maybe it’s because I think I can’t do it.

5. Maybe it’s my ride: Part 2

4. Maybe it’s the beef dip?

3. Maybe it’s because I’m still unnaturally close with my BFF

2. Maybe it’s because I’m famous(ish).

1. Maybe it’s my maturity level.

Are there any particularly good ones I missed? Please don’t hesitate to share your favourites!

& as always, thanks for reading.

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109. Maybe it’s because I’m tired.

I haven’t been sleeping well lately.

I feel exhausted all the time, but no matter how tired I think I am, sleep eludes me.

&, as I’m sure you can imagine, lack of sleep has made me a little bit crazy. I am an emotional wreck on a good day… not sleeping has made me particularly crazy. Every day I don’t sleep feels like an out of body experience, & I haven’t been able to do something productive in days.

It’s been unpleasant. It’s been stressful. I don’t know what to do. It’s gotten to the point where I’m drugging myself with Nyquil, but even that doesn’t help. It just makes me feel like less of a human… & doesn’t lull me into the sweet, sweet slumber I’m hoping for.

So, that’s where I’m at this week: sleepy, grumpy, & still very, very single. None of which are mutually exclusive… & all of which are keeping me very, very single.

 

 

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108. Maybe it’s because I don’t have any time?

I tried to go on a date this week.

We discussed on Sunday what the best day to get together would be… & Monday didn’t work because I had too much homework, Tuesday I had plans to watch the Oilers game with a friend, Wednesday & Thursday he  was doing first aid training… you get the picture. Things just weren’t working out–we ended up scheduling two weeks from Sunday, kind of.

By this point in time I’ve lost interest, to be honest. There are so many other things on my mind right now, & a boy who wants to get together weeks from now can’t be a high priority.

It’s not him, it’s me.

No offense, but I’m just too busy: there’s not enough slices of my poorly time-manged pie to go around. I’ve got assignments, & sleeping, & studying, & a best friend coming home for Christmas… hanging out with a guy is really, really, really low on my things-to-do totem pole. My lack of time coupled with my short attention span does not equal fertile ground for a budding relationship.

& maybe that’s why I’m single: my life is so full of other things–things that are important to me–& I am not making time for anything else. Instead of putting effort into fostering some romance, I choose to push opportunities aside in favour of all my other shit.

Which isn’t necessarily a bad… but I can’t complain when I end up doing all my favourite extra-curricular activities solo.

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107. Maybe it’s because I’m stressed.

My stress levels are in the red zone. It’s November, & I am a student, & this is the time in the semester when school really starts taking over my life.

Goodbye sleep, & friends, & mental stability–see you sometime in December.

This semester has been really hard for me: I feel way out of my depth in a couple of my classes, & this is the first time in my entire university career that I’ve maxed myself out & taken 5 courses, on top of attempting to work part-time. I’ve been stretching myself pretty thin & it’s making me even crazier than usual.

Most days, I have no idea what I’m doing & it’s led to more meltdowns than I would care to admit. I feel like I’m going to fail one or all my classes, be flung out of school, & be forced to work a menial job that I am so not passionate about for the rest of my life. Oh, the horror.

I’ve been doing a lot of catastrophising lately. & the worst part is that I know I’m driving myself (& others) absolutely crazy, but I just can’t stop–I want to stop, but I just can’t.

I am so desperate to be successful, & so stressed out, & such a perfectionist–it is the perfect storm for a mental breakdown. I find it so easy to get down on myself when I’m stressed. Even though I am normally a fairly positive person, when I am this stressed out, my hyper-negative, high strung alter-ego pops out… it’s a version of myself that I am not one hundred percent in love with.

So, I am fighting the good fight right now, & just trying to keep myself sane–a relationship is barely on my radar. Which is probably for the best. When I’m in this state the further away from men I am, the better.

 

106. Maybe it’s because I have trouble letting go.

When I was 16, I met… a guy.

It was winter time. I was young, naive. He was (still is) one of the most unique, intelligent, creative human beings I’d had the pleasure of knowing.

& when I was with him,  I felt unique, intelligent, & creative (I still do).

We all have that one person who we can’t seem to fully let go of, & it should come as no surprise that he is mine. I’m not in love with him. I’m not obsessed with him either — I feel the need to clarify this, given my history — & I know on some level that we would never work. But whenever we cross paths I feel pulled towards him. I revert to my 16 year-old self — the insecure girl in too-tight jeans & with terrible hair — & he will always be (to me) the teenage version of himself that I was enamoured with.

I can close my eyes & smell his 90-something Ford Escort; I can feel the course denim of his fashionably ripped Diesel jeans beneath my inexperienced hands. It takes no effort to recall his long blonde hair, draped artfully over his forehead, framing his brilliant blue eyes. His smile — oh, that smile. The corners of his mouth were permanently upturned in an expression that could grow effortlessly from his signature grin to a toothy smile, lighting up his whole face. I can hear our soundtrack to that summer: the Beastie Boys, Justin Timberlake, Beck, punctuated by heavy breathing & the gentle, uncomfortable laughter of first time lovers.

We had so much fun together. He was the first guy who ever made me feel pretty, girly, relevant.

& even now, when I feel… less than myself, I know that I can crawl to him & he will make me feel the exact same way. Without even trying, he can validate me with a single word; a single touch.

He’s a magnet. More than that, he’s my security blanket.

& it’s not healthy. It’s not fair. I don’t feel the same way I felt about him when I was 16 — I just want to.

Maybe part of the reason I can’t move forward is because I’m not allowing myself to let go?

Yeah. A good way to stay single is trying to make old, broken relationships work. Nothing says “date me” like baggage, am I right? SO, I think I’m going to stop doing that, or at least try to.

It’s not that my past relationships aren’t important. I mean, they shaped me into the emotionally-unstable, occasionally confident woman I am today. &, they have their place in my past… But that’s where they need to stay.

 

105. Maybe it’s because I’m a drama queen?

I’ve been having an entire month of the mondays.

I know it’s a combination of school stress and me being a drama queen, but it’s really turning my life upside down. I’ve been struggling a lot with my identity lately — just having my semi-annual existential crisis, or whatever. My mid-midlife crisis continued — it’s no big deal. You know those days where you just feel like you’re a terrible writer, but writing is what you want to do as a career, so you just can’t help but feel like the world is ending? You know.

Yeah, I’ve been having one of those days. Every day. For a month. It’s rough. I wake up every morning questioning my life choices, & when I lay my head down to sleep those same critical thoughts invade my brain, reminding me that I really don’t have any clue what the hell I’m doing.

It’s all very dramatic.

All I’ve ever wanted to do is become a professional writer, but at this rate I’m going give myself a heart attack before I even get published.

I had a meltdown while trying to write a short story, & since then I’ve spent a lot of time wallowing, hating myself, listening to Taylor Swift (& crying, obviously), & eating Halloween candy until I actually want to vomit. I mean, none of that is healthy for me mentally (or physically, either). I can’t imagine it’s doing anything positive for me romantically.

Am I alone because of my tendency to reach for dramatic extremes (& miniature chocolate bars) in the face of personal/professional struggles?

Yeah. Well. I don’t think it’s helping. I’m so stressed out right now that even the mere thought of dating someone seems exhausting. & any dude in his right mind knows that actually dating me right now would be an absolute nightmare; I can barely tweet something without questioning my authorial merit & bursting into tears, much less have a relationship.

I can’t stand myself right now, so I really don’t expect anybody else to.

I need to rein in the theatrics, & kick my over-dramatic behaviour to the curb. Maybe once I calm down a bit & start functioning on a normal emotional level I can consider some healthy male company.

Until then, I’m going to abuse iTunes’ repeat feature, & listen to T Swift until I love myself.

My obsession with this album is so real.

My obsession with this album is so real.

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104. Maybe it’s because I dislike being vulnerable.

I seem to have a thing for unavailable guys. & I have probably talked about it before, but I think it’s worth revisiting. My addiction to obsessing over dudes that will never, ever, ever be available to me is a problem; it’s a huge detriment to my dating life, & it’s most of the reason why I am still alone.

It isn’t enough to just acknowledge the problem — that’s never enough. What I need to do is get to the root of the issue: why am I so drawn to unavailable men?

I was exploring the concepts of dating & attraction with one of my friends last week, & I had this epiphany: I despise being vulnerable. I feel like allowing myself to be vulnerable takes away some of my power (which it kind of does) & I hate feeling like another human has total control over my destiny (which he really doesn’t).

I’m a bit of an extremist, at best.

So, this realization cleared up a lot for me. I mean, I have always wondered why, without fail, I seem to become obsessed with guys who are blatantly unavailable. I have always wondered why I can talk for days with platonic male friends, or guys I am not interested in, or guys who I’m mostly obsessed with but have zero chance of getting with because they’re happily almost-married or whatever, but when it comes to a single, attractive, handsome, smart guy… I become incoherent.

It’s a defense mechanism.

Realizing this was the romantic equivalent of a religious experience. Everything just seemed… clearer.

It was awesome.

Armed with this newfound information, I’m hoping to disable my personal defense system. Now that I am aware of why I am doing what I do, I am deadset on correcting it. I don’t want to stand in my own way anymore.

So, I guess here is where I commit to actually talking to the cute guy I’m unfortunately obsessed with.

Scary, but necessary.

Wish me luck!

103. Maybe it’s because I’m an Oilers fan: Part Deux

I’m no hockey expert, & I am far from a hockey fanatic, but, man, do I love the Oilers.

My friend (who bleeds orange & blue by the way) & I managed to appropriate tickets to the home-opener via the harassment of a season ticket holder (thanks Brett!), & come October 9th we were practically vibrating with excitement. The whole city felt different — the promise of a new season was upon us, after all. 2014-2015: shiny & new.

We were excited. Everyone was excited. The air in Rexall was electric. The passion was palpable. I was caught up in this feeling of positivity. It felt so real, like I could reach up into the air & grab it. Take it home with me. Keep it safe. At least, that’s what I thought.

Then, we lost.

5-2, if you haven’t heard.

Sigh. Things started going south in the stands real quick around goal number 3. & as disappointed as I was, I felt more disappointed in the Negative Nancies sitting around me than the players bouncing a puck around on the ice.

I mean, loving the Oilers is kind of like being in a relationship, & you shouldn’t break up with your boyfriend after one disagreement — am I right?

Shortly after goal 4, people started leaving. Then goal 5 happened, & there were groups of people pouring out of the stands; they couldn’t get out of there fast enough. When the final buzzer sounded, it was accentuated by the throwing of a sweatshirt on the ice, quickly followed by the breaking of my heart.

It was some drunk loser making a statement, no doubt. In my own slightly inebriated state (that Rexall beer will get ya) I felt so many things at once: anger, sadness, disappointment. But it wasn’t all directed at the team, the management, or the organization. I mean, yeah, we lost the first game of the year — talk about a bummer. But I couldn’t help but think how unnecessary a lot of the reactions were. Getting up & leaving with ten minutes left on the clock? Tossing apparel on the ice? Let’s get real here. Be angry, be disappointed. But don’t let a single loss derail the hope of a better season.

Like I said, I’m far from a hockey expert, but I do know a heck of a lot about love. & I know a heck of a lot about relationships — especially dysfunctional ones. I know that problems don’t get solved by throwing a hissy fit when things don’t go your way.

If something isn’t working, change it or break up. So, if anyone out there is feeling like he or she just can’t stand to watch the Oilers lose, & he or she is unable to keep clothes on in the face of defeat, break up with the Oilers & pass those tickets my way, please.

You’ll probably be a lot happier. Plus, I know at least two people who will gladly take those tickets & cherish every moment in that arena, win or lose.

We take this stuff seriously. Photo by: Kyla J Lane

Photo by: Kyla J Lane

 

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102. Maybe it’s because it’s just not in the cards.

I got my cards read last weekend.

It was quite the experience — I actually really enjoyed it. Now, I don’t know how familiar y’all are with tarot, but it’s not fortune-telling. She (my reader) was very clear on that. The cards don’t predict the future: they are not going to tell you if you’re going to die young and they cannot accurately predict the winning lottery numbers. But they will pick up on trends in your life, & more than anything they’re just supposed to help you figure yourself out — they give you the tools to answer your own questions. This was an aspect of tarot that I was particularly interested in, considering how obsessed I am with finding ways to organize my life.

Plus, it just seemed like a really cool way to spend a Saturday night.

It started off really well. I was dealt (?) four “major” cards: Strength, the Magician (my favourite), Justice, & the Devil (not-so-much my favourite). She was spot on for a lot of the reading: she mentioned how I had been working hard for the last few years, & told me that I was reliable. She said this reliability would be what helps me gain success in my career. She continued with the reading, telling me that recently people have started to look up to me, yadda yadda yadda, I’m great, whatever. A major theme of success emerged that I was digging, but then she got to the Devil. It was my last card, & she told me it worried her.

That’s exactly what you want to hear from someone doing your tarot reading — not.

She said that this card could symbolize a couple things. It might mean an addiction, but she thought that for me this was unlikely. Instead, it probably meant that my success would alienate me from other people & result in jealousy & resentment.

Lucky me.

We made eye contact after she dropped this bomb — it was intense. But then she just kind of snapped out it, & asked me in a more jovial tone if I had any questions.

Me being me, I seized the opportunity to ask if she could see any romantic trends in my life.

“I’ve got to be honest with you,” she told me. She looked down at my cards, & kind of shook her head a bit. “I don’t see any romance in your future.”

Bummer.

She went on to qualify this particular reading: she told me that things could always change, & that none of this was set in stone. I appreciated her efforts to make me feel better, but they didn’t really help. It’s comforting to know that the trends in my life are career positive — I’m anxious to get my professional life started, & I can’t wait to be some kind of successful — but I had hoped that there was at least some glimmer of love on the horizon, you know?

Just like that, our time was up.

As I made my exit, I thought about how in my attempt to hone my craft & make a name for myself as a writer, I may be shutting out opportunities for romance. But I think that that’s okay: I don’t want to sacrifice my career for any man, & if I do turn out to be a spinster, well, at least I’ll be a well-educated, successful one.

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101. Maybe it’s because I’m a student.

Go to university, they said. It will be fun, they said. It’ll be the best four years of your life, they said.

Yeah. More like the most broke years of your life. Or, the most stressful. Or the most tiring. Or the most of all of the above.

It took me a really long time to decide to go back to school: I pondered for a while over what direction I wanted my life to take (to pursue my dream or not pursue my dream, that was the question). Even once I decided that I was going to pull the trigger & get educated enough that someone, somewhere, would pay me to write something, I flip-flopped back and forth on it for at least a year before I got up enough courage to actually apply. I don’t regret it, none of it, not even for a second: I know that I’ve gotten a sense of fulfilment from university that I wouldn’t have gotten otherwise, but that doesn’t mean that it isn’t hard, & I don’t occasionally have doubts, & that I don’t worry about my future — romantically & otherwise.

& it’s not just getting a job, or finding a man, or scooping myself out of post-secondary debt post-post-secondary. It’s finding the right job, the right man, & well, scooping myself out of debt on top of it all.

The debt. Oh, the debt. It is killing me. Being flat broke ain’t easy, but I’ve learned to deal with it. What really gets to me is the stigma.

I mean, I’ll save money when I’m dead. It’s not about the money. It’s never been about the money — education is priceless, & I channel most of my funds into footwear anyway, so I don’t know that my financial situation will ever be stable regardless of the impending repayments of my student loans.

Honestly, I’m stressed about the effect that my crippling amount of debt is going to have on my dating life. One day (hopefully) I am going to meet a guy who I like, & he’s going to like me, & we’re going to go on fun dates & fall in love, & then I am going to have to somehow drop the bomb that I can’t qualify for a mortgage, or buy a car, or do anything involving a credit check because of stupid student loan debt.

Finances are a big deal in relationships — trust me. I heard enough fights about it growing up to realize that financial compatibility is just as important as anything else when you are in love.

So, I’m worried. I’m really worried that the amount of debt that I’m accustomed to is going to be a major factor in me remaining alone forever. I know that a university education comes with a pretty hefty price tag, but I think it’s naive to assume that’s common knowledge.

These adult problems I’ve been running into are really stressing me out, let me tell ya.

I’m at a time in my life where I need to be thinking about life after school, and part of that life is going to involve a tall, dark handsome dude. I guess all I can do is hope he at least understands the value of education, doesn’t mind that the majority of my assets are tied up in designer footwear, & is okay with permanently renting a place (probably in my parents’s basement).

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100. Maybe it’s because I’m emotional?

A boy was mean to me today.

It’s been a long time since that has happened, and it surprised me.

And it… it really just hurt my feelings. Ugh.

I had been having an already awful day: I had my weekly 8 am class, my car stereo was acting wonky, the line-up for Tim Hortons was outrageously long… it felt like the universe was just trying to ruin my life, you know what I mean?

All I wanted to do was grab some coffee with my friend and work on an assignment for school that’s been kind of stressing me out. I was dangerously close to a mental breakdown before the fateful interaction with my newest arch-nemesis, so it really caught me off-guard how blatantly rude he was.

I was under the impression that, I don’t know, social norms prohibited this sort of behaviour. Evidently I was wrong.

For the sake of preserving the big bully’s anonymity, I won’t go too far into detail about what took place. Let’s just say he was overly sensitive about an issue I presented… & instead of behaving like an adult, he introduced a passive-aggressive argumentative technique that just made everyone involved real uncomfortable.

Naturally, because I’m a self-involved emotional basketcase on a good day, I took everything he said straight to heart & proceeded to burst into tears in the middle of the busy cafeteria.

It would have been embarrassing, had I not been so used to crying in public due to my overly sentimental wiring. What bothered me the most about this situation wasn’t his attitude (surprisingly) or my tears, it was the way that this minor altercation rocked me so radically right to my very core.

I was wrecked. & being the absolutely uncontrollably self-aware person that I am, it made me seriously uncomfortable.

This one guy, who I have talked to like barely once in my life, was able to cut me down with a few sharp words. I know it wasn’t him, it was all me & my reactions. But, in that moment, he became every single guy who had ever been mean, or rude, or judgemental of me. & I became the girl who let dudes be mean, rude, & judgemental.

It sucked — hence the tears.

It reminded me that although I have grown a lot, I still have a long way to go. I still have a lot of unfinished business, & a lot of unconfronted issues. Which made me think: am I single because in my effort to propel myself forward, I’ve ignored fully dealing with problems from my past?

Yeah. That might have something to do with it. I have spent a lot of time rebranding myself: creating the best version of me I can be. In my efforts to do that, though, I have failed to actively acknowledge the person I was, & what (ahem, who) screwed me up so much in the first place. Letting go of baggage is a good thing; paving over baggage & trying to forget about it is not.

I need to reconcile my present self with that of my past: the girl who was scared & insecure, with the girl who is confident & funny & a little bit lost a lot of the time.

So, I’ll do that. & I’ll be that girl. & hopefully one day I can find myself, so that some lucky guy can find me, too.

99. Maybe it’s my social skills.

I don’t know how to… be around people that I am attracted to sometimes (or all the time, whatever).

&, as is to be expected, this can cause problems when it comes to dating, & flirting, & just conversing in general.

I bring this up because I am crushing hard on a guy I go to school with, & I am just way too socially awkward to initiate a conversation, or small talk, or do anything that normal people do when he’s around.

It’s sad, for a couple reasons. First, I’m an adult (ish) & it’s really embarrassing that the social anxiety of my teenage years continues to linger, & also because I think we would have a lot to talk about. We’re both writers, & we both go to university, & we both, um, exist?

Every time I have the opportunity to talk to him, I seize it ineffectively. The very first time I interacted with him involved me talking without thinking & him shooting me down, harshly. It is unclear if he meant it to be as harsh as it was, but for the sake of discouraging false hope I obviously have to operate on the assumption that he hates me. After that whole botched attempt at conversation happened, I just decided to lay low & admire him from afar. It was going pretty well — I felt like it was really working, until he asked out one of my good friends. I mean, she said no (of course, that’s what good friends do), but the damage was done.

This happened last semester, & since a guy asking out a girl who isn’t me is a sure sign that he just isn’t that interested in me, I had no choice but to give up all hope & wallow for an indeterminate amount of time until I eventually got over it. Well, at least I thought I was over it.

Fast forward to the current school year, & in an interesting (cruel) twist of fate the object of my past affections shares a class with me.

Lucky guy.

So far things aren’t going much better — we had a slightly less terrible interaction, but not by much. We made eye contact a couple days ago which was exhilarating. I mean, I’m pretty sure he doesn’t even know my name, but we’re working on it. We’ll get there one day, maybe, probably not.

The good news is, he’s in the one class I am in this semester where I don’t sound like a raging idiot & actually have a clue what’s going on, so the chances of us having a somewhat positive interaction are better than, you know, 0%.

Things are looking up, folks.

Going into this year, I told myself that it’s going to be different.This year I will not get in my own way, something I’ve tended to do in the past.

I just need to allow myself to be myself, & know that if this guy is the right guy, that’s going to be good enough.

98. Maybe it’s my bedroom furniture.

This reason comes to me courtesy of a boy who I am not allowed to write about.

The boy-who-must-not-be-named blames my single bed for my single woes. &, while my tiny, tiny bed doesn’t open a lot of doors for me romantically… I doubt it’s actively preventing relationships from forming.

However, owning a twin bed has given me the perfect excuse to avoid intimacy when it suits me to do so.

Like, when I am straight exhausted & all I want to do is lay in bed watching House solo. Or, when I have neglected to shower post-workout & just don’t have the energy to properly bathe & look presentable. Or, when I just want to be by myself.

I’m a slightly introverted, creative individual… I need my alone time. It comes with the territory.

It might sound contradictory that someone who complains about being single on a weekly basis would claim the need for time alone. But, I think it’s relatively normal. & even when you are in a serious, long term relationship it is important to be comfortable being alone, & to have your own hobbies, & your own interests.

Also, being alone doesn’t necessarily mean being physically alone — there is such a thing as having alone time, together. & this might sound lame but for a long, long time (since my first viewing of Pulp Fiction) I’ve considered comfortable silence as a major indicator of true Love.

I want to be with a dude who is just as comfortable chatting with me as he is sitting in silence with me, & all the activities that fall inbetween.

97. Maybe it’s because I’m in Toronto (Still)

I’ve really been enjoying my time here in TO. From the CN tower, to a Jays game (my first ball game ever), to an early-morning carbon monoxide scare (although the sexy firefighters made that worthwhile), to watching one of my newest friends hail a full-blown city bus as if it were a taxi cab (I attempted this myself the very next day — it seems to be a thing here), & an impromptu shadow puppet show… it’s really been quite the trip.

I’ve missed my BFF: I don’t know how many times I’ve laughed so hard I’ve almost peed myself, & I desperately don’t want this trip to end, but alas it is almost time for me to return to real life.

Much like last year, I’m not really feeling a pull home — rather I feel the pull to stay here. But, as much as my romantic side is screaming at me to drop everything & start my life in Toronto right now, my more practical side is winning out with its realistic assertions that I must finish my degree, save some more money (I’m going to have to lay off the shoe purchases for a while), & perhaps actually find a place to live first.

Sigh.

A quick visit is just going to have to suffice for now — quick visits are all I have to fix my Toronto addiction until I can actually get it together enough to move here, anyway.

So, I’m back to Edmonton on Tuesday, anxious to start school & continue biding my time until I can call this beautiful city home.

& now, some shameless photos from my trip (so far):

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96. Maybe it’s because I’m in Toronto (Again)

Well, I’m back in Canada’s largest city for what is slowly become an annual trip to see my BFF in real life & I couldn’t be happier.

I love this city, I love my BFF, & I love having a mini-vacation before the craziness of full-time school takes over my life.

So far we’ve ripped it up in some grunge bar whilst taking in a live show, wandered around Chinatown for a bit, & assisted in throwing a kickass 50th birthday party (barely… we basically sliced vegetables for 2 hours & drank semi-heavily for the rest of the day).

It’s been a good trip. I have only been here a couple days, & I already don’t want to leave.

So, we’re going to make the most of the rest of our 12-day sleepover, & spend some quality time eating, maybe drinking, maybe taking in some of Toronto’s tourist-y destinations, & definitely binge-watching seasons of The Hills together.

Watch out, Toronto.

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