Saying goodbye.

I lost another one in the good fight. With the departure of Skip jr. I am left with only one remaining first generation Stephenville family member (and it's Dave so it doesn't even really count).

Mr. Jones came up Saturday night before his departure and the way I was carrying on you'd think I was leaving. I couldn't stop talking or reminiscing (remember the first time we hung out in St. John's? Remember that night I had to hide in your grandma's bathroom to talk to your ex? Remember. Remember. Remember).

I was sad because Mr. Jones was sad. And I was sad to lose someone I could always rely on without any sort of anything being involved. That probably doesn't make sense. Mr. Jones never made me feel anything bad like regular friends do. There was never a sense of obligation between us. We just were what we were when we could be and that was enough.

(... are you crying yet Robert, lolz?)

I'm just trying to get across that I lost someone I've shared a history with for the past SEVEN YEARS. And I am sad that it has come to an end.

I started this blog to keep in touch with my friends Meagan and Josh while I lived in Stephenville. When we all moved out here I continued it so Leah could feel in the loop of my life. When she moved out here, Holly moved backed there and so it made sense to keep at it still.

But even with Mr. Jones departure I am unsure that the Little Blog that Could may continue. It no longer feels right to post here anymore. Somewhere along the way the five or six people I gave links to multiplied into an average of fifteen to twenty different computers checking this little blog every day (yeah, I can see you). I don't think I even have that many friends!

The general lurking puts me off and the same reasons I don't have Facebook are the same reasons that posting here doesn't feel good anymore. I have debated on making it protected, deleting it all together or just changing the url. I'll probably go with the later decision of changing the url, because it is well loved by the people who take the time to comment and check like five times a day. And it is well loved by me!

I thought I would post about this now on the off chance I make a rushed decision and change things up. Here's hoping I see you on the other side! :)

Shudder shock of pale.

I'm piecing my peace back together, how about you?

I've felt on edge, out of sorts and completely consumed with MYSELF this past week. This past month. Or two.

When I'm going about my daily livings, one of two things will occur:

1. I feel like an absolute and massively cumbersome idiot. How is it Sarah, that you can spend so much time talking about what you're "going to do" and so little time doing it? How is it Sarah, that you cannot find the words or actions to properly comfort/encourage/love someone who needs it? How is it Sarah, that you cannot finish a degree in the same time span it takes everyone else? HOW DO YOU LIVE WITH YOURSELF?!

2. Or, I feel like everybody around is me a complete and total idiot. How is it McDonald's worker, that you do not know the difference between a plain sandwich and one that is covered in condiment and vegetables? How is it truck/car/van driver, that you have your license when you cannot signal to turn/merge properly/DRIVE? How is it boyfriend/best friend/family member that you cannot grasp these simple concepts I have properly outlined for you? HOW DID I GET TO BE SO MUCH SMARTER THAN EVERY ASSHAT IN THIS CITY?!

It's a funny thing, this coexisting. I never was a team player.

You know how when girls are middle school-ish age they all want to be the Hannah Montanas of the world? They dream of big stages and bright lights. Or at least, I would assume (through my careful observations as a nanny) that the average young girl does.

When I was in grade seven I fell in love with... Emily Dickinson. Although I still find her poetry astonishingly beautiful, it was her life that enthralled me when I first read of her. She was a total recluse, who never left her house and kept in touch with the important people in her life through letters. She wasn't even a known poet until after her death, when all of her poems were discovered in her room.

At the tender age of twelve, I would dream of myself becoming a reclusive poetess. It seems, much to my befuddlement, that my path to this point has been a steady one.

Mind you my tale is set in this new era - blog entries and text messages are my choice of correspondence. My poetry is a bunch of scribbles, quotes and words that rest in the coil-bound journal in my purse. Or on this site.

This post was supposed to be about the music I've been enjoying lately. It somehow progressed here. Why fight it?

But in case you need to be inspired by others through the art of song, have a listen to one, two and three.

I am not my own, for I have been made new.

I remember Meagan and I used to joke that our lives would probably end when we turned twenty or so because we couldn't imagine them after that point. We had no idea what we'd be doing - what we'd even want to be doing. In our youth there is very little room to wiggle off the path that our parents or society tell us to follow.

But somewhere between high school graduation and our early twenties we are expected to forge a place in this world for ourselves. We're given no tools, little guidance, and lots of opportunities to fail.

Up until 2009 nothing exceptionally bad had ever happened to me. Nothing exceptionally great either. Basically, nothing exceptional. There were very few, if any, life changing moments.

2009 chewed me up and spat me out. It gave me feelings I can tell you right now that I have never felt before. How do you go two decades without experiencing every feeling there is to feel? I don't know. I wouldn't have believed it a year ago.

Never have I shed more tears. Never before have I experienced more moments of disbelief, anguish, mourning, love, humbleness, forgetfulness, gratefulness - every emotion ever times a thousand.

At the end of '08 I moved out of my parent's house and into THE MOST EXCEPTIONAL PLACE ON EARTH. Fuck Disney World, because Merrymeeting was WHERE IT WAS AT. I lived with two of the most strong and amazing women I have ever met (as well as a kindhearted sailor and a lovely Frenchman) and without them I would have crashed and burned during the very first month.

There I found the first boy I have ever said "I love you" to. In February he made me a mixed tape (literally), slipped love notes under my bedroom door and has loved me unconditionally ever since. Sometimes I wonder if all the strife and grief I've gone through this year is the karmic justice I pay for getting to have someone so wonderful in my life. Then I wonder if the depths of my emotions have just stretched. I guess I'll never know. But I wouldn't trade him for anything - not even a pony.

I responded to an ad on the job bank in January so I could pay my rent. As a result I spent the year helping raise three of the most ridiculous and hilariously amazing kids I've ever met. That family kept me afloat. They gave me a reason to drag myself out of bed after tragedy struck me again and again. Every time I was angry with God, with the world, it just took an afternoon of shooting aliens in the park to make me realize that everything is always moving. Time is always ticking. Why waste it being angry when I could be having fun?

I lost both of my maternal grandparents within the span of one month this summer. And to be honest, I haven't been the same since. My grandmother's death... I still can't talk about it. I still can't think about it without crying. I loved, I LOVE, her so fiercely. Always have and always will. I think I might have to leave it at that.

At the end of September I moved in with my boyfriend. It was a decision I don't regret, though I would have to say if I had my time back I'd want some more roomies. It gets super lonely/easy to be reclusive. This is a chapter of my life that I'm still writing so we'll have to come back to this one at the end of 2010.

The end of 2009 kicked my ass. A lot of stuff built up and up and up until OH MY GOODNESS WHAT A SURPRISE SARAH'S BODY AND MIND CAN'T HANDLE IT ANYMORE. And splat, the two collapsed and failed. I have been to the doctor about a dozen times in the past couple months. I have received no answers and my questions keep building. My last doctor's visit ended with my mom screaming at my doctor and me searching for a new one. For the first time in my university career I actually had to have some of my exams deferred.

But thanks to thousands of years of Chinese medicine, I've gained solace in acupuncture (that stuff REALLY works!). I also have an appointment with a specialist in two weeks. Answers will be gained! And my fear of having fear (or my anxiety about having anxiety) can be overcome. I will not let the wrongs and insecurities of 2009 leak into my shiny new 2010.

So that was my year. Sure there was other stuff, but these are the memories that stick out. This is the stuff that has shaped me into the Sarah of 2010. May the Sarah of 2011 be so lucky.

Traipsed across the continent.

I had a major meltdown on Friday. And that would be all day Friday, started the day in tears and finished it sniffling and puffy eyed. I took procrastination to a whole new level and left my ENTIRE distance course studying until the day before the midterm. I had close to a hundred pages of notes and nine chapters of text to know for my Saturday morning exam.

I missed Robyn's birthday party and that sucks cause her shindigs always make me lol to the max. You know mine and Robyn's love tale, but since I didn't get to tell her in person I'll say it on here: happy birthday, Ro-yn Mchizzle! It looks like I missed a slammin' good time, jeez, just check out this cake. I'm sad to have not gotten a piece!

I have another midterm on Monday which I'm not nearly as worried about. It's with Professor YouTube, aka the I'M A TRAINED STAGE ACTRESS CAN'T YOU TELL prof from last semester. Nothing from the textbook because girl didn't order enough for the bookstore so no one could read it. Yup, she's still a flake.

Alex and I found this website and have been doing some of the assignments from it when the mood strikes. Yesterday, while it snowed, we ventured out to make a field guide of our yard. Called it quits after a few pictures though because we both agreed that we were probably freaking out the lady downstairs.


P.S. It's my birthday on Saturday! So don't make any Halloween plans because everyone is invited to Salisbury to help me greet a new year, 21 peeps!

Hard to be soft.

In two days I'll be moving two streets down. I'll finally penetrate center city, thus bringing me even closer to campus. Ah-hah, MUN! You thought the increased rent rates of your neighbouring roads would scare me away, but they didn't. Well... the doubling of my rent is somewhat terrifying, but whatever.

I have not packed neither bag nor box. Everything is sitting in the same place it always does (though I did get enough energy to take down the Christmas lights). I'm not worried, I'll throw all my things in garbage bags and pilfered Colemans' boxes tomorrow. The strong and mighty boys will drag my oversize furniture down on Saturday.

So what am I worrying about?

Babies. Babies and the future.

No, I'm not even close to being pregnant. Come on you guys, you know me better than that. But the Being a Grown-up thing is weighing heavily on my mind. What does this have to do with babies? Let me elaborate:

I have seven female cousins, five of which are in their twenties. Of these five, four are pregnant and the one who is not with child is getting married at the end of the year (and already has a kid). Oh, and one of them, my age, is pregnant with twins. Yup, two babies.

Now don't get me wrong, I don't feel the pressure to have kids. If there is one thing my mother taught me it's that SHE DOES NOT WANT GRANDCHILDREN. I know, bizarre in its own right, though that's a whole other tale.

But I definitely feel the pressure of the future. The finishing school, finding jobs, having the right friends and man friend in my life. I should be planning ahead. Problem is I couldn't even tell you what I'm doing in an hour.

I'm moving in with my boyfriend on Saturday. Did you know that? If not, let the shock settle.

...

Good? Moving on. I will be sharing his two (yes, separate living quarters. As I've been telling him (and everyone) roomies first, boyfriend/girlfriend second) bedroom place and to me that is a hugeee leap for Amazonian women everywhere. Or just this Amazon woman right here anyway.

As for school, when this semester is over I will be ten classes away from a degree. Which is more scary than exciting because I am most DEFINITELY required to be an adult with a B.A. stapled to the end of my name. I'm not sure why this is, but society tells me so.

Oh, and to those fuckers out there who are like "wah wah, who cares what society thinks, wah wah": um, well the people who hire you care. And that indirectly affects what kind of place I live in and the life I'll live. And I don't want to be in overpriced two bedroom forever.

This is where my head gets stuck, I don't know how to turn myself into an adult. I don't want to turn myself into an adult! I feel like this is all a charade and any day now someone is going to come along and stick me back on the play mat with my Barbies.

I'm trying to live day to day, really I am, BUT YOU* AREN'T LETTING ME.

So what's a girl to do? Get knocked up apparently. But since that is not the answer for me, I'm going with a heavy dose of ignoring reality (or my perceived reality). And maybe just a little Celexa.



*"YOU" being the collective you of course, society and whatnot are included in the general equation of "YOU"

Keeps the doctor away.

I had a bad weekend. Got the flu like woah. On the upside, all the friends came over for a rip-roaring sayonara Merrymeeting party on Saturday. And I do mean ALL the friends. Thanks everyone, it's a little easier to say goodbye to this wonderful place now.

While I crawled (alright, drunkenly staggered is probably more accurate) up the stairs and into bed around 1:30am, everyone else stuffed the remainder of their booze in their pockets and headed down to da bars.

My boy lost all his goodies dancing (and I do mean all: wallet, iPod, cell phone, sweater) and he came up the next morning looking like his dog had died in some sort of freak accident. Moral of the story? Always keep your shit in your bra... though I suppose that really couldn't apply here anyway.

So to start the week off right (because yes, despite what your heart might tell you, for some reason it's actually Monday already), I am sharing the cutest little blog that everyone can enjoy and get some smiles from. A Lego a Day! Dude makes little scenarios with his Lego men and posts a picture everyday. They're really good!

Chin up, wha.

The act of convincing myself.

MUN is such a funny place. A funny, nerve wracking, panic attack inducing place. I'm willing to guess (for me at least) that it's because it introduces change.

I am very resistant to change. I don't like it AT ALL. I'm a comfortable rut sort of gal.

But in all honesty it can be good. School forces everyone to band together, a team of scholars (ha) desperate to fight the depression and anxiety that is so inevitable in a place like university. It forces you to see people, like the friends you haven't thought about in years. This too is a good thing, because you see them as new people. Cause you are new people... it's inevitable... agreed?

I ran into an old buddy of mine this afternoon, she's all grown up and in her first year now. When she first called out my name in the hall I had that instant heart freeze. I hate pretending I'm friendly. We got to chatting, and I realized that in our time apart we had grown closer. Our interests and experiences jived. How exciting!

What is it I'm trying to say? MUN sucks, yes. But it doesn't have to suck THE BIG ONE. You can make it what you want to make it.

And if that means three night classes and a painfully overpriced stack of textbooks, then so be it. But I'm making sure it also means making old friends new friends, doing the best darn collage I can for Women Studies and actively trying to make the best of a truly shitty deal.

Be with me on this one, eh. I need the frick frackin support.

Ain't no grave gonna hold my body down.

I finished up the nanny gig on Wednesday, oh how bittersweet. As it was nearing the end of the day I grew more and more excited... freedom was on the horizon! But as I was getting ready to go, I found myself lingering over goodbyes - bestowing many more kisses and snuggles than any little boy wants to receive.

And when they brought out a cake, sang me a thank you song, and put two dozen roses in my arms, well, I teared up. I AIN'T GONNA LIE. But it was the pleading from Mommy DRC that got me. Homegirl just wants someone to love on her kids. And man do I love those kids. I made promises to return, took the car seats from my car and drove home.

I woke up the next day with a bizarre feeling that I was forgetting something. I've been watching these kids for nine months, I saw them more often than I did my friends or family. I think it will be awhile before I stop planning outings and crafts in my head. Even longer to stop the worrying, thinking, loving and motheringness in me.

I didn't know what to do yesterday, free time is so foreign now. Robyn and Heather came up for some meaningful what-do-we-do-now chats. WE'RE ON THE CUSP OF BEING ADULTS, ARE YOU NOT SCARED? We made plans and promises to make it a good year. School likes to take you down and we are ready to build each other up. We're kicking off [the notoriously bad month of] September with a silly sleepover (because sometimes all it takes is a bad chick flick and a bitching round of truth and dare to take you out of your head).

And though this summer has easily been the worst most hardest most emotionally draining and tiring one of my life, I am ready to move on and start fresh. To leave my depression in the dust. To see the friends I've been avoiding (I'm sorry friends, you are just too astute at reading my emotions. One cannot hide from ones self if they are being made aware of ones self by another), to live the life I want to lead, trust in my faith and karmic justice and be happy.

Fated.

Aren't we painfully cute? Robyn makes me grateful for the little happys of the world, thank you my dear.

As most of you can probably tell, my blogging has slowed down substantially. There are several reasons for this and I can proudly tell you that ALL OF THEM ARE GOOD.

I have taken the lemons of winter sad times and squeezed them into the delicious summer lemonade which is right now. Happy happy.

It was kicking around twenty degrees today (in April, I know, global warming is awesome... for now) and I spent the day outside lying in the grass trouncing the boy at checkers and being silly with my little lady. I do love the curly haired folk.

I visited Mommy this afternoon and she graciously bestowed upon me a new burner for my oven (I might have put a Dollarama oven mitt on a hot burner, oops), a bag off potatoes (to use on the BBQ she gave me the week before, wow my mom is awesome) and a slice of apple pie.

I am surrounded by people who are more generous than you can possibly fathom, for this I'm grateful.

But as it breaks into summer, I'm reminded of the things that need doing. Not chores, for they're too fun to be chores! Scrapbooks that need filling with pictures that need taking. Letters to be written and posted. Books to be read. Paintings to be painted.

Can you feel it? Life is coming back to the city. The BBQ is going every night, stop by with a pack of wieners or a steak and we'll have a chat.

Status of the car wash.

So it has been the longest sixteen days of your life, I'm sure.

If you were wondering whether or not I had given up the blog, the answer is: NOT. My computer has been in the back room of Avalon Software for the past eight days, trying its hardest to become a normal laptop. It barely succeeded.

What have I been up to these past two weeks...

Not a whole lot. Working five days a week with my kiddies! Playdoh, story time, Spider-Man/Villain, hockey, space adventures, puzzles, Toopy and Binoo... This is how I spend my days.

My life is a blurry mess right now. I'm working really hard to fix it and so far my effort has helped. Not only did I stop blogging, but I ceased to scrap and paint and exist for far too long. IT IS GETTING BETTER!

I've been planning trips in order to get me through the day. For Easter break me and five of my best our spending a few nights in the luxurious Little Harbour! Yes, three nights in a town of fifty people and no stores. We are very excited. No computers, no television, no driving, no ANYTHING. Beers and Easter ham, yes please.

My health has been steadily improving through the magic of prescription drugs. Ten pills a day... try and beat it. The sinus infection is kaput as well! Sunny skies.

I hope to see you all very soon.

Make butter for my piece of bun.

Sarah is on meds A, B and now as of today, C. A and B are fine together. But C causes B not to work. And A mixed with C kills Sarah. But Sarah needs meds A and C. WHAT DOES SARAH DO?

Answer: watch Top Model and read about municipal and federal interaction in Canada, all the while pretending that everything is alright.

Obama llama duck.

Today was an odd day. Odd because I realized we've been in classes for three weeks now. Three weeks... quick, what have you learned?

I've learned a little about the American Civil Rights Movement. What corrections/prisons were like in Newfoundland in the 19th century. Um, that's about it.

My Intergovernmental Relation in Canada class is HELL. I have not caught on to anything because the prof can only talk about himself. I could tell you lots about his personal life, but absolutely nothing about "class material".

I worked really hard on my History paper tonight so I treated myself to Roman Holiday and a Crispy Crunch bar. Gregory Peck and chocolate... yum.

Dropped a giant glass container of coffee on my foot a little while ago. Since I bruise when I'm simply poked or grazed by a blunt corner, it is safe to say that I will DEFINITELY be having some obscure version of black foot within the next couple days. Pictures to follow.

Life inside a music box ain't easy.

My first semester of university was rough. As was everyone's I guess. We were all trying to adjust to a new school, a new city, a new life. The only comfort I took out of all three of these things was the anonymity.

I could walk around this city for hours and not have one person recognize me. I could attend a weeks worth of classes and not have a single person talk to me in any of them.

I loved it.

A girl I met on the bus while traveling to Stephenville last Christmas told me (three hours after meeting) that I hated people. I was shocked! Everyone tells me how great I am when I first meet a stranger, how I can make an awkward situation happy by asking the right kinds of questions. I am a people person!

This is not true in the least. I am not a people person, in fact, I am a misanthrope. I despise going out with groups of people that I'm not really friends with. I hate the awkward conversations that inevitably ensue when you see a person you haven't talked with in awhile. I can't take the effort that goes into forced conversations (this probably ties in with my inability to bullshit people).

For example (and this is not meant to hurt anyone's feelings), but every single time I come home from a SASF gathering I have a headache. Like a raging one. Every time. I like most of the people that go to these togetherings, but my mind cannot handle the forced "hey, how is school going?", "what are you taking again?", "oh, this is fun.", "we should totally hang out sometime!". I don't care about any of the questions I ask or am forced to answer, but out of politeness and general caring for the people who attend these SASF gatherings I pretend I do. And pretending (aka:bullshitting) gives me migraines. LITERALLY.

My brother constantly makes fun of me for my "hatred of being seen". If the family wants to eat out for dinner, we can't eat at the restaurant but must take it home. No going to the mall unless it's for a specific thing. None of this walking around to kill some time stuff.

I've always been like this. Maybe I really do hate people.

This whole nonsensical post is stemming from the fact that I can't even go FIVE SECONDS on campus anymore without having someone I know/recognize start a conversation with me.

Where did the anonymity of this city go? :(

New England style buns.

Dave and Sierra came up for a BBQizzle a couple days ago which is quite an event. Dave hates coming to my house as I live in suburbia and he considers himself to be a "downtown skeet" to the core. I tend to agree.

Since my backyard is not fenced in, my neighbours had the pleasure of watching us get very, very drunk well into the night. They also had the pleasure of hearing us. Dave sang to them of course.

We spent the whole night talking and Dave explained to me how I was a bitch. And I loved it, because I love to know these things. He told me that anyone who knew me really loved me because they knew that I was not a bitch, but in fact just ridiculously honest.

And I knew this already, but nothing is better than having yourself explained while both parties are intoxicated.

I never apologize for my honesty. And I'm sure I've stepped on more than one pair of toes over the years. But the whole reasoning behind my truthfulness is not because I am some sort of highly evolved being, but simply that I cannot be bothered to fabricate delicate lies.

And I think that's why I have such amazing friends. The kind of people I am surrounded by are the ones who don't need justifications or simplifications. They are the highly evolved. YOU are highly evolved. Isn't that exciting?

I'm just trying to tell you that I love you too.