We were meant to live for so much more.

I have big dreams for 2010. Mind-blowing all encompassing goals. I won't post them all here. Or any. And these aren't resolutions, I cannot fail to accomplish them. They are things to strive for, ideas to contemplate and emotions that need feeling.

What I'm trying to say is, don't worry and be happy. You're living the life you were meant to lead.

P.S. Yes, those are my babies. They are blonde and adorable and today we baked cookies.

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.

This is my 651st post (aka Those Awesome People).

As you all may remember, I have had costume parties on two or three years running for my birthday for my birthday. October thirty-first on the date (2006, 2008, 2009... 2007 I just went to Jingle Jim's, and that's the year I turned nineteen to boot)!

As per usual I had my camera at all occasions. And because he loves me, Patrick arrived in dashingly spooky costumes each time. But I noticed something oddly bizarre about the picture we took together this year...

What's so bizarre you ask? Take a look at Halloween '08:


We did not plan this! It was a spoooooky Halloween coincidence. Here are some more pictures from this years birthday basharooo. Costumes were a must and everyone went nuts with their amazing outfits and ideas!

It was an awesome nights and my little home was packed to the seems with the most awesome kind of people. I bring you: those awesome people.


I made a delicious trail mix with baked pumpkin seeds from the pumpkin Alex and I carved, yum yum.

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"

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.

July (oh please don't Facebook these faces).

The moral of July:
One must always swim in city pools during the day, doing said activity during evening hours will have one of the following results:
- Being chased out of pool in underwears by policing figures
- Losing shoes
- Six inch gashes on legs
- Paddy wagon scares
- Getting caught by a running police figure who then insists that you may not put on your bra
- Scaring the shit out of everyone, both involved and indirectly involved
Or that could all happen. On your 19th birthday. Silly friends. Happy birthday Brittany!

Doesn't humidity suck? This summer is so sticky! I'm glad I don't live in the south, I would melt away.

Prepare my place.

I no longer blog. But oh if you could see my art journals and scrapbooks, filled with art and love from these few months. I'll post scans of some soon.

Life is hard. I no longer know what to make of it.

My grandmother died just a little over a month ago. I'm finally making sense of it and moving on the way I should. But it seems the summer of 2009 is for grieving. My Poppy Fudge died last night. Is this getting tiring for anyone else?

In the run of a year I went from having four living grandparents to just one. The frightening part of this is it's just the beginning. Next parents, aunts and uncles. Cousins, siblings. Friends.

And I realize it's all a scary circle, that dealing with this stuff is the price you pay for living a beautiful life.

Knowing this doesn't make anything easier.

I won't be heading west for the funeral, I can't handle another so soon. I'll do my grieving here, without family, without anyone who even knows my grandfather's name.

Oh the emotions.

Girl's night.

Pink champagne, shots and beer. Watching Sex and the City outside on the back deck. Fancy lingerie.

Girl's night was a raging success.

You move like a rolling wave.

I've been living! Spending my vacation with the special ones and loving my independence.


I can't explain it any better than these pictures can.

I lost a blonde snowman making girl this week, the Swedish princess as well. But I'm gaining back my scientist next month. Seeing off two of my boys to their new home a few roads down (yes! Joey is leaving my couch after four epic months, he will be missed).

Every morning this week I've woken late in bed, an unshakable smile on my face.

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.

I'm a dandelion.

Sometimes you climb out of bed in the morning and you think,
I’m not going to make it,
but you laugh inside,
remembering all the times you’ve felt that way.

Look a baby bear.

Since I didn't have a photo of the new home I drew one in paint. Did I mention I'm moving? I'm moving.

It has been an extremely stressful week. Packing and essaying and spraining. I can feel my mood brightening despite the fifteen page paper which is due Tuesday assessing the advantages and disadvantages of the social union agreement for stimulating policy innovation and learning across jurisdictions. OMG, POLI SCI MAJORING IS AWESOME.

This morning I got out of bed and when I put my feet on the floor I accidentally smashed an entire glass with my right foot, caveman style! Luckily there wasn't anything in the glass so nothing was spilled... except my blood.

Things I have purchased in the past week:
3 pots
2 frying pans
4 mugs
6 cups
4 knives
4 spoons
4 forks
1 mixer
2 bagels from Tim Horton's (stress = starch consumption)
1 pair of sexy suede boots

But I've also been downsizing. I cut my 23 pairs of jeans (how embarrassing is that number) down to 10. And I have a gianttt bag of clothes for the thrift store.

My Mom is making me pack up all my shit I don't take so she can have a room to make booze in. I wish I was lying.

This creates opportunities to find awesome stuff like:

My Middle School friends! A lot of the same friends I have now. Brett, David, Ben, some guy, Kenneth, Robert, Kelly, Ashley, Kaylan. Yeah, not so much Kaylan. He was just in love with David. And one loonie for the person who knows who that random guy is.

The "grad" dance from Middle School. That is McKayla up there with Caitlyn White. Rob with Kelly. And MR. JONES. Now this has to be the best photo ever. Simply because there are three pages of photos from this dance, all of them groups and couples. And one. Of Robert. By himself. Infront of the lattice arch. GOLD, MY FRIENDS.

Found my admission letter to music school. I wonder how different my life would be if I had actually gone. Would I be happier? Hmmm.

No more what ifs! I have too many pretty friends here that keep me lovin' life.