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.

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.

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.

The young and restless.

Last Monday I was involved in a fender bender, well I guess it would be more accurately described as a fender scratcher. Today I was called by the police and informed that she has filed a report with them. She has back pain you see. Back pain caused by our scratchy accident. Aren't these the kinds of stories that go down as ruining lives? Or at least insurance rates. I'm interested to see how the system will work for me.

Joey is home and that means happy warm fuzzy times. He has a fancy new car and the same Joey goodness, it is just not the same when he isn't here.

It looks like the Merrymeeting ladies will be disbanding (on good terms of course!). As McKayla finds herself searching for a place with Phil and Sierra and I join forces with Allan. Of course the housing market in St. John's is ridiculous right now (I'm not complaining, we're pretty much the only city in North America not feeling the recession, yay black gold), so no one has found anything. IT'S ALL RENTED UP, FOLKS.

And I'm finishing up work next week! I will miss my blonde children, but I'm pretty ecstatic to do the school bit again. I've been asked by my employer if I know anyone who wants my job. Part-time nanny work, anyone?

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.

Thirteen things.

1. An ice cream spoon, completely bent out of shape.
2. A picture I drew of Sierra, she was looking a little thirsty.
3. An issue of The Scope that Robyn wrapped my Christmas present in, a work of art.
4. My scrapbooks, keeping my memories in style.
5. Clip Clop, banished from my bed because of the heat.
6. My pony collection, because yes, I really like ponies.
7. Nanala, who watches over me.
8. The empty space, where Century Sam's painting should be hanging (but is too heavy to hang).
9a/9b. My Holly pictures, because little people deserve pictures too.
10. The button accordion, diatonic and one rowed so it's impossible to master.
11. A love note from Alex, complete with pictures of wrestlers.
12. Tylenol, aka a nanny's TicTacs.
13. Several empty cans of Diet Coke, I have an addiction.

My room says a lot.

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.

People will say all kinds of things.

Dearest friends how I've enjoyed your company this weekend!

Last weekend was such a bust (slept it away and away) so this weekend I made a point to invite everyone to the Merrymeeting residence.

Robyn and I have done so many craft nights together and decided to hold a special one Friday for the opening of our true love, Red Velvet Art. This was the first craft night open to the public and it was a smashing success!

I have been so creative lately that it is almost painful to watch the accumulation of STUFF happening in my room. Merrymeeting scrapbook is going strong. Knitting occurs frequently. Drawing in my HI book and Robyn's pretty pink book happens almost every night. And now I've taken it upon myself to start The Sew again.

The Sew is when I crack out the sewing machine (circa Christmas 2000), buy some fantastic fabric from the $1.97 bin at Wal-Mart, and decide upon a garment (or bedding!) that needs to be made.

I have taken it upon myself this time to fashion two skirts (one for Sierra and I) out of $16 in fabric. CAN I DO IT? Probably not, but it is always fun to try. Plus I'd like to try this and this pattern.

I have just a couple hours of awake time left before I am forced to sleep and then start the week again. But I am armed for the onslaught of tiny fists: heart-shaped suckers and Kinder Eggs. Best nanny EVER.

See you all again next weekend, okay?

Cough cough cough.

Oops! Miss me?

Life in a nutshell time:

My heart is significantly sadder today as my brother is venturing back to the Arctic as I type this. Hmmm. Not cool. Him leaving that is. The Arctic is cool... in a literal sense.

Yeah.

We now have a fourth roomie on Merrymeeting, Mr. Joey Miller. I know. You are jealous. But it is my chesterfield that Joey inhabits. DEAL.

I have this rip roaring cough that tears apart families and creates holes in the ozone. It leaves me gagging and crying and in desperate need of Buckleys or a 7up/OJ combo.

Robyn comes home Tuesday. I better be her date on Wednesday. THIS IS ME TELLING YOU, ROBYN MCHUGH, THAT WE HAVE A DATE ON WEDNESDAY.

I haven't seen anyone in so long. Robert Jones where are you? Not in my new house, that's for sure. Are we still on for Monday night Poli Sci classes?

I got married on Harvest Moon. To a farmer named Blue. We're happy together. If only a relationship was as easy as giving a boy fresh milk everyday until he wants to wed you. I would invest in a cow of my own. Or not.

LET'S ALL BE FRIENDS THIS WEEKEND, HMMM?

The quiet world.

In an effort to get people to look
into each other's eyes more,
and also to appease the mutes,
the government has decided
to allot each person exactly a hundred
and sixty-seven words, per day.

When the phone rings, I put it to my ear
without saying hello. In the restaurant
I point at chicken noodle soup.
I am adjusting well to the new way.

Late at night, I call my long distance lover,
proudly say I only used fifty-nine today.
I saved the rest for you.

When she doesn't respond,
I know she's used up all her words,
so I slowly whisper I love you
thirty-two and a third times.
After that, we just sit on the line
and listen to each other breathe.

Stayed up a little longer to talk about junior high, bras, and boogers.

I have been reminiscing SO BAD lately. Like hashing out all these old school stories with every friend ever and digging up the pictures that go with them.

This is still one of my favourite photos of all time (taken July '06). My best friend is 4'10" and I am 6'0", yes, DEAL WITH IT. WE ARE NEITHER CHILD NOR MAN.
Man, you look haggard, Holly. And my hair was frigging long.

I love how there are only two people in this world who know why this advertisement is so spectacular.
And look at how young Robert looks in this picture! Stickin' it to the man. I believe Winston Churchill.

Sarah's amazin'.

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.

Domestic bliss.

Sometimes I get in these “mommy moods” where I spend the day being super domestic. It usually happens when my family is out of town (which they are) and the house becomes an unbearable state (which it was) and it’s a nice day (twenty degrees! Because who can do housework when it’s raining?).

So I slept in until 7:30, which is only sleeping in for people who get up at 5:30 every other morning for work. Sick, yup.

OH! Random story time.

So yesterday I got off work at three and promptly fell asleep thirty minutes later. I woke up at 5:40pm thinking that it was the next morning and I was going to be late for work. So I booted it to the bathroom stripping along the way and grabbed my uniform to change into.

It wasn’t until the spray of the shower hit me that I realized I had the day off.

And it wasn’t until thirty minutes after my shower that I realized it was 6:00pm and not 6:00am Sunday morning.

My inner clock is so shit.

Anyway, back to my summer clean day.

I’ve done three loads of laundry and have two currently hang out on the line. I spent twenty minutes trying to spray the spiders off my bedroom window area and the back patio.

I was shocked at the millions of spiders that are around this year, until I realized I haven’t really seen spiders since I lived in Stephenville. Iqaluit doesn’t do spiders.

I baked a batch of oatmeal chocolate chip muffins… ate two… then loaded the dishwasher (for the very first time!).

I was going to vacuum out my car, but it’s too hot in there. So I’ll settle for swiffering and mopping my downstairual area.

MMMMM, PINE-SOL.

I was asleep for all of that.

Wednesday morning my brother left. And I cried. A lot.

Not just because he was leaving, but because I knew what it really meant: I was alone again.

I spent my entire Wednesday shift in a superfunk, trying to work out how many days until fall semester.

And then I got home, logged onto MSN (appearing offline, of course) and saw in Holly’s name “Sarah… coming to St. John’s the weekend, message me!”

Holly and I are brain twins. When one is in extreme distress, the other will receive the upset airwaves. It’s magic. Don’t pretend you understand.

And though only a temporary band-aid on my gaping wound known as loneliness, planning an entire weekend with my bifizzle, sure pulled me out of the darkness. But that is not all...

Enter Ashley.

Ashley, for those of you not recognizing the name, would be my oldest friend. We met in grade two, bonded over my rock collection and her squid hat (true story), and the rest was history.

We shared lockers every year. We went to each other’s birthday parties. We gossiped and giggled. We co-editored the school newspaper. We went on band trips. We had sleepovers. We baked with our Easy Bake Ovens (… right up until grade twelve, heh). I witnessed every single one of Ashley’s boyfriends. Loved, hated and ranked those boyfriends (Winner: Jared… sorry Joey. Last place: Though I know most want me to say Evan for his pure douche bagginess, you know I’m going with the love-to-hate-him, John).

I think she is the only friend I have never ever had drama with. Like ever. Our biggest fight was over who should get the single hook in the locker during grade eleven. And we have been friends for a decade.

Ashley e-mailed me yesterday to inform me that she got the biochem nerd job I begged her to apply for a few months ago. Why did I beg her?

Because this job is not in no-name-Nova-Scotia. It is here. In my St. John’s.

Ashley will be with me for the entirety of this coming fall semester.

Love is a many-splendored thing.

Abide with me.

I didn’t cry. Not really.

The surprising reasoning behind this would be that the whole thing seemed so unreal.

Somehow I became responsible for leading my grandmother into the church behind the coffin. I wore a skirt, it was beautiful and bought especially for the occasion.

My Nan wept through all of it. And I could handle that, even though I spent most of the service trying to remember if I had ever seen her cry before.

Expecting an old priest/pastor/reverent (whatever the Anglican Church has), I was visibly shocked to see a Dallas Green incarnate minus the tattoos (I kid you not). He had a great speaking voice but I found him to be spooky in his flow-y robes.

As soon as it began I felt like I was acting in a play.

My grandmother, a fellow actor, pretending to sob on my arm. An empty green coffin in front of us. The deep sound of the church bell ringing as we descended down the aisle with the priest/pastor/reverent chanting as we walked.

I began to chew visibly on the peppermint gum in my mouth, something I never do in public. Something I always do when I’m apprehensive.

I wouldn’t visit my grandfather before they closed the coffin. I knew if I did I would forever picture him in that box instead of fishing or chopping wood or fixing us tea or starting a fire in the woodstove or taking me grocery shopping or to Mary Browns or whatever.

Despite all of this, I took comfort in the coffin that sat directly to my left. Something about knowing he was there. So when they picked it up to bring it outside and into the Hearst I momentarily lost it.

This could also be due to the fact that my grandmother went from weeping to great big heaving sobs.

I removed my arm and gently pushed her towards my Dad who had just deposited the only dad he had really ever known into the back of the long car. I couldn’t really deal, you know? I’m ill-equipped.

I made my Mom collect all of the leftover programs to give to me. She asked me why I wanted them. I don’t really know.

I didn’t go to the graveyard. We sang the graveside hymn in church since it was raining and thundering and foggy. Plus my shoes were unsuitable. Plus my grandfather was getting put in the ground.

I was the first to leave Little Harbour. I wanted to get back to St. John’s to meet Darryl at the airport. His flight had been delayed and he missed the funeral after all of the hooplah to try and get home in time.

When passing the graveyard on the way to the highway I saw that they almost had him entirely buried already.

I ached for my Poppy White’s big jittery hug in that single moment.

P.S. Thanks everyone for all your help and words and calls and messages and stickers and love and prayers. Seriously.

I once knew a girl in the years of my youth.

When I hear this song I am transported.

I can feel the sun on my legs as they rest atop the front dash.

My hair ruffles as the wind from the open windows blows into it, seemingly stretching each individual strand apart. My hand dances along with the breeze when I can’t resist the urge to stick it outside.

I reach over and turn the volume up and as a result the sing-along becomes louder.

I smell the ocean, hear the birds.

We reach the end of the road and she puts the CRV in park. I snap her picture, my picture, our picture, the beach, my feet, the empty ice-cream cups in the holder next to me.

Neither one of us steps out onto the sand and rock. We both seem to be waiting for something.

“We’ve already driven 40km.” she states simply.

“Port au Port?” I ask, ignoring her statement.

There isn’t even a pause before she responds.

“Port au Port.” she answers, and turns the vehicle around to drive the length of the beach again.

I reach over and turn it up just a little louder.

Is it coincidence or connection?

Dear “Brad” who works at the Copy Centre,

I fell in love with you. Sigh. The first guy who tried to help me with my button needs failed miserably. But you knew how to satisfy, Brad.

You showed me how buttons work. You even showed me your button. We bonded.

You told me to e-mail you the template, and I casually added my phone number at the bottom incase there was a “problem”. I’m daring like that, Brad.

You and I were of equal height, a fact I always appreciate. You also had a cute toque, and I’m not even a hat person.

When I came back the next day to pick up my buttons another man was working. How distressing! I said just one word: “buttons?”

“Buttons!” the man exclaimed “Brad, buttons!” he yelled.

Overjoyed.

I had asked for thirty buttons, but you made me thirty-five. “Don’t worry about the extras, I won’t charge you for those.” Oh, Brad. You then gave me a special discount that knocked eight dollars off the cost.

Here was where you were supposed to ask me out.

But you didn’t. I left both happy to have met you and sad that I remained single.

I will assume you have a girlfriend.

Love,
Sarah :)


P.S. Thank you for not asking why I needed buttons with Celine Dion’s face/the Bloc symbol on them.

Bounce.

My eyes are leaking copious amounts of liquid. Nope, I’m not upset.

Let me set the scene:

Deciding her desk drawer is just far too untidy, she begins to remove things. Getting to the very back of the space, she comes across her fake eyelashes from two Halloweens ago. “Exciting!” she says aloud and runs to the bathroom to apply them. After putting the glue on to the edges, she carefully places them on top of her eyelids. Opening her eyes she smiles at her now hilarious reflection. Small things amuse small minds. After awhile she notices that blinking has become laborious. She did not give the glue enough time to dry.

Yeah, so my eyelids are pretty much glued open. My tear ducts are not impressed.

Midterm break?

Obviously my definition of “break” is skewed. All I’ve been doing is writing and typing and reading.

And the not fun kind of writing and typing and reading.

Hospital music.

Sarah says:
i woke up at two this morning

Sarah says:
and my stomach was exploding and i was throwing up

Sarah says:
i spent all day at the hospital and it seems my appendix wishes out!

Robyn says:
oh noooo!

Robyn says:
so do you have to get 'em out?!

Sarah says:
i had an ultrasound and it isn't inflamed

Sarah says:
so they don't want to do anything yet

Sarah says:
and basically they sent me home and told me to get worse and then come back


Appendicitis anyone?