And then.........

My life over the past year has been nothing short of greatness. I have a career, and a good one at that! We bought a new car, moved into a cozy new apartment, and I've been reading the classics! And they are soooooo delicious! I am still very much in love, and looking forward to more great things to come. But alas, I am female, and therefore I am hardwired to want more... more more more! It's never enough. This idealistic life that I am living seems incomplete somehow. It's the mixture of watching everyone around me doing what I long for, and the fact that we are just not ready, that makes me want it so bad that I can taste it! Commitment. Marriage. A family.

It's painful. A dull ache that just never seems to soothe itself... I am impatient and it's driving me crazy.

Can we do it?

Dear self,

Writing is your passion. You live and breathe words. You thrive when you can express yourself through letters, joined at the hip, to create smooth sounds that roll off the lips and into eternity... They become lost, but not before being heard. Please write! Do something good for yourself every single day. This is not a dress rehearsal, this is your life...

I am hoping, praying, leaving it in the hands of the universe, that I can start writing again. No stop-overs, just straight back into it head first.

So here we go... again!

Fall, Autumn, by any name would smell as sweet!

Fall. It has been and always will be my all time favorite season. The leaves are turning brilliant colors of gold, red, orange... It's thrilling! Having moved back to the prairies after living in the maritimes for the past 9 months, I am looking forward to the comforts of a long chilly fall. The air is crisp, but never too cold. Leaves litter the sidewalks and streets. The fresh smells are sweet, like cinnamon. The season of gorgeous smelling cups of tea, and glowing fireplaces makes my heart oh so happy. Welcome!

I'm back!

So, I'm not going to lie, I had become discouraged by my blog for quite some time. I decided to quit, walk out and not look back... But here I am, back with open arms, and an open heart. Please forgive me for ignoring you. I promise that I will pay you some much needed attention.

Good evening, see you tomorrow!

What's happening here?

The other day there were these two boys (They looked to be about 7 and 9 years old) in line behind me in the bank. At first they were standing calmly beside a man that I assume was their father. As the long line slowly crept forward, the boys became impatient and began goofing around. At first they appeared to be playing tag, then they split up and played alone for a few minutes. All of this seemed very normal. Boys will be boys after all. Then after a few more minutes they were back playing with one another.

What happened next shocked me... The older boy all of a sudden spotted a surveillance camera in a corner of the bank. He nudged the smaller boy, and without a word spoken between them, both raised their little hands as if they were holding shotguns and pretended to fire at the camera. Next, the smaller boy aimed his "gun" at one of the tellers and proceeded to pretend to shoot her. They both continued their "massacre" until after about a minute, when their father finally told them to stop.

I stood there for a moment, absorbing what I had just witnessed. I was actually shaking, thinking about the fact that this was just normal play to these kids. Nothing out of the ordinary. Is this really the way that we are allowing our children to play? I was really disturbed by what I saw that day... I think the image will haunt me for a long time...

A glimpse

Gather together,
We are sad seers
Envisioning our broken world
Revolting earth
Taking nature by the throat
Tears, fears and chaos
Created by an angry ocean
The sky ripped open
By the careless amongst us
Lives misplaced, untraced
Is it the end?
Where do we go from here?
Can it all be salvaged?
The dying walk this earth
Alive as we once were
Seeing the end
With wide open eyes
Are we all blind?
Is there no sacred beauty left?
Nothing left to be buried
Nowhere to lay the dead
No chance that we will rise again
Can we look back now?
Is there a reason for looking forward?
Did we forget to read the labels?
Sad seers
Are there enough of us?

Know your place?

I got talking about religion with a co-worker today, because I wear a Saint Christopher's cross around my neck, which I have not taken off in almost a year. According to the Catholic religion he is the "Patron Saint of Travelling". I was given the cross before I left last year to go travelling, and have since given one to my best friend (she was raised Catholic and is currently travelling Asia). Probably not the best idea in a town dubbed the "Little Vatican". I am not Catholic, nor will I ever be. Nothing against the religion or those who are a part of it, it's just not my cup of tea. I was raised in a family that is made up mainly of devout Hindus. My mother on the other hand raised me as a Pentecostal. Confused yet? Sometime after my family began immigrating to Canada and the U.S., members of my extended family decided that they would just pick and choose what they wanted to be. Many remained devoted to Hinduism, others strayed. My mother was one of the latter.

We didn't go to church often, but when we did I had evry mixed feelings about it. For the longest time I felt like an imposter in the church. I felt like everyone could tell that I didn't know the words to all of the songs, or that I felt uneasy in the prescense of such powerful believers. For awhile we stopped going, and when we started back again, something had changed. The new pastor at our church was funny, made everyone feel at ease... and I had grown up a bit. I saw the church differently and was less worried about how I was being perceived. I was a lot more focused on the reasons that I was there, and what I wanted to get out of it.

I realized that my beliefs were loosely based on a number of different religions, and that I didn't have to identify with one specific church in order to believe in something. When asked, I still say that I am Pentecostal, its what I'm familiar with, but I have my own beliefs and accept the fact that everyone is entitled to their own beliefs.

The problem that I am faced with, is that my own beliefs are a melting pot of different religions, and many people do not accept that someone can believe in "part" of their religion and "parts" of others. Most think that you pick one and you stick with it. The thing is, that thats not what I believe. I wear my Saint Christopher's Cross and truly believe that I am safer in my travels with it around my neck. I also believe in Jesus and pray to him. I also believe in reincarnation and that everyone gets a second chance. I also believe that there is a higher power that created us, who or what it is, I'm unsure. Does that make me a bad person? If I am not Catholic, but someone who is gives me a gift from their church and I wear it, does that make me a bad person? Does it make them a traitor to their own religion?

Who decides these things?

Families of all shapes and sizes

Just as I decide to commit myself to writing again, I went on vacation, came back and started a new job, then started house and furniture hunting. It never ends. I have only myself to blame for my lack of ability to sit still, I love change!


In an ever changing world, I strive when my ever changing life is busy. I think that stability is nice, as long as it doesn't apply to me. I'm far too much of a free spirit to stay in one place for too long. I have a feeling deep down that I get this from my father. He was never a part of my life growing up, as him and my mother divorced right after I was born. He was always on the go, and then decided that he would rather live alone and work out of town. That was fine with mom. She's tough as nails and preferred to raise me on her own, if it meant that I would have stability. We moved once just before I started junior high school, then never again, and those houses were mere minutes apart. Mom has never been one for sporadic or drastic change. I, on the other hand, am a huge fan of packing up and hitting the road. Whether it be a roadtrip, travelling or moving, I am not a sit still and let the world pass me by kinda gal!


It took me a long time to figure out that I get a lot of these things from my father. I guess because I would never want to be compared to him, I overlook the fact that I am very much a part of him. After all, it did take his DNA to create me! The reasons behind my apprehension would take days to list. I will say that I do not want to give him credit for shaping the person that I am today. Mom did that on her own. I will however thank God, in her grace for giving me the best of both parents. Somewhere along the line, it all balanced out.

I love when people tell me how strong I am. It is by far the highest compliment that can be paid to me. Growing up I always tried to imagine being as strong as my mother. She never faltered, no matter what this life threw her way. She is a pillar of strength. I never once imagined that one day I would exude her strength in my own way. It does not go unnoticed either. People often comment on my easy going attitude and how strong I always appear, despite adversity. I credit my mother for this and many other amazing attributes that she has so graciously passed on to me.

The thing with my father is that, I am blinded to the ways in which him and I are alike. I hardly know him, and he chooses not to know me, so how can I possibly be like him? Mom says that he was once a very kind and caring person, but that he stopped being able to show that. Alcoholism took that away from him, and now he's a recluse, choosing to fight his demons alone.

Its amazing what one very strong parent can do... And I am thankful everyday of my life for the choices that she made.