Distorted Memories

It's hard to believe that, when you look at me with those eyes, that you don't remember anything that counts.

You see the days melding into one other. You hear the words in random succession. You remember the smiles, the laughs, the tears, the anger in all very general terms.

They could be anyone's sunshine. They could be anyone's jokes. They could be anyone's rainy day, and anyone's inferno.

But you don't feel my hands holding you up. You don't see my efforts as I tried to pave the way- your way. You don't hear my words encouraging you to reach past the stars, because the stars aren't good enough for you. You don't remember the times you woke up in a bed not your own, and happier for it.

And I don't see how this is possible, but it seems that it is. And honestly? I don't know how to feel about this all.

But just so you know... Though you may have forgotten, though you may have distorted, I have not.

August 29

I'm counting down the days. Or, well... Not the days. Not exactly.

I just feel the end of summer coming. And it seems kind of silly at first, because for me it's not the end of summer. Summer keeps going, on and on. It fades into autumn, then to winter, and then to spring. And then summer comes again. That's when it ends. A year away, this endless summer will end.

And I hope it does this time.

So... why am I seeing the end, feeling the end, mourning the end? The end that's not there?

Because, though it's not there for me, it seems to be there for everyone else.

I should rejoice, but I can't.

Lucky me. Lucky, lucky.

Not really. Not as-of-late. I just don't feel it.

And thus far, I have nothing to pass the time. Isn't it silly, how I've wished for so many things, but once they happen its like "Oh no, what've I done?"

I got a full time job, one I've been wishing for, and then I realize just what that means. No time.

I quit my other job, just to realize that shoot, I had it good there and I'll miss it.

Then I lose them both, and, well, just to say the least, I don't know how I feel. Or, rather, I feel lost.

Lost, and maybe a little unwanted.

Of the Kitchen

Eventually, there comes a time where there's nothing left but to sit on your kitchen floor, back against the fridge or the cupboard or the stove, head tilted back, and admit to yourself that you're not perfect, you're not supergirl, and you never will be. And it's alright. Because it has to be.

Even when my bedroom is lit softly by my lamp, and my bed is all made and everything is in it's place, I still come, at the dead of night, and fewer times in the bright light of day, to the kitchen where there are usually piles of dishes and the stove is cold and there's possibly nothing here for me at all.

And I sit. And I don't know why. I just sit, and I cut off hunks of cheese or eat a container of sprinkles, and I watch my cats wondering why I'm here...

And I know, each time, that it is not my last. Most likely, I'll keep coming into the kitchen for these odd, quiet times that no one else seems to understand. Even when I leave this house for one of my own.

Perhaps one day I'll put in a plush chair. Most likely, it will sit unused.

Of John's Pride

Called EA back, talked to Alice, whom I texted early the morning before asking if it'd be possible to get my job back. She told me she was going to work on John, but I heard her boyfriend in the background saying that John had hired someone else.

After a day and a half, he hired someone else. Quick one, he is.

But Alice was going to fight for me.

Got a message today from Denise that didn't say it straight out, but implied that John was too prideful to take me back, even though I, along with Alice and Denise, am the hardest worker.

And Alice, probably even more pissed at her father (John) (as she has been for weeks) picked a fight with the "manager" (who does nothing but sit on her butt). They're all threatening to leave now.

I still have no job, though.

And I was a favourite of Alice's, so that explains any extra anger exuding off her.

Of Getting a Job, Quitting a Job, and Losing a Job

So I've been pretty MIA, haven't I? well, it's because I was applying for jobs, got an interview for a job, was told I would be hired for the job and they'd email me my schedule, quit my other job, and then, today, was told Nevermind, the new place didn't want/need me anymore.

And for some reason, I saw this coming. But again, it was like "Well, they told me they'd take me on, and everyone else is saying that they're just a little late, and who would do that? Tell me I'm hired then change their mind, especially after I quit my other job for them."

I guess these people were the type.

And now I just feel like curling under the covers and just sleeping, only waking up for riding and reading some good books, which I won't even afford to get so... nevermind.

I should probably see if I can get my job back, but I was so excited to get my weekends back, and to be able to go up to the cottage for once, because I haven't been since February, and one mini trip in March.

And I should probably go back to the job I quit, and I would, but in three weeks everyone's planning to quit so I'll be slave driven into doing every possible shift.

So I guess it's no boots I desperately need (because I can hardly ride with half chaps that just fall down because I'm too tall for them), no books I really want to read, no presents for my family, nothing, until I get a new job. I'm hanging onto my riding payments because in November I'm stopping.

At least I learned my lesson. Or something.

Of Security

I think there's something negative to be said about friendships where you don't dare bring your lap top to a sleepover without a more powerful general password, time limit, and firefox password (oh, and every other type of password you can set).

And then you decide to sacrifice the possibility of writing anything because you don't think these security features will be enough.

Yeah. There's something to be said about that. 

Of Cheerful Indifference

For Tai Chi, we're supposed to be in a state of "Cheerful Indifference."

It seems so odd at first. But I realize I'm in this state a lot. Especially when I'm laying on my bed, writing on my lap top, listening to various music, and eating something that doesn't take too much work.

It's like, it doesn't matter if my dad and I are fighting again, it doesn't matter that I'm possibly just being used to make some people feel a bit better in their conscience, it doesn't matter that my search for an apprenticeship is a hard and grueling task. A lot of things don't matter. I'm indifferent. I'll figure it out later, right now? I'm just going to chill.

Of Body Image

From the moment a few days after my Grade 8 graduation, when my mom pointed out that I looked fat in my dress, it's been a long journey to self-acceptance.

For someone who, before that moment, didn't care what she wore and had been told all her life she had the body of a model, and never worried about how she did my hair or wore make up as long as her eyes weren't too creepy-green, oh and figured the dark circles under her eyes were just permanent, well... Suddenly being thrust into the world of supreme self-consciousness wasn't just depressing, it was frustrating and terrifying.

It hasn't gotten any better, the bit of a bulge on my stomach. And it's pretty much in genetics, and I know now as I knew back then that my mom had no right to say a thing for various reasons.

But I like to think that I've gotten better. I've tried to fix it, really I have, but nothing works. I've probably cried over it a dozen times, and I've looked in the mirror and called myself ugly for it.

But I don't know. Recently, things have just snapped. Every once in a while I will look in the mirror or look at myself and just feel tired of it. Tired of being critical and hating my body and feeling helpless. And a few days ago I looked at myself and realized that it's quite possible I'll never get rid of the stomach I have, and it's probably genetic.

And though I don't particularly like how it looks all the time, and I see girls who are how I "used to be," I don't know... I'm getting used to it. I'm accepting it.

Just felt like I should write this out before I head off to Shoppers to get some Nerds candy for my brother's Welcome Home cupcakes (I had to force some creativity out of him, because all he wanted was vanilla cupcakes and regular icing!)

Of Meeting Half Way

For how well you claimed to have known me, how well you should have known me, you've been lying to yourself if you think I care enough to try fixing this all by myself.

Then again, you've always been lying to yourself, that's obvious.

But I still won't forgive you, and I won't walk any farther.

Because we agreed to meet half way, and I'm here, waiting for you, but no longer getting my hopes up.

On Why I Do What I Do

I rarely have a doubt in me being a pastry chef. Especially when I remember why I'm doing it.

I like making people happy. I always have. Even if I'm not always a happy person myself, I want to see someone who's crying smile again. I want to make someone's day brighter.

I can't become a doctor and save lives, I can't build someone a house and I can't always save people from accidents.

But when someone eats a dessert, there's something there wanting a smile. You can eat dinner and never smile and never want to smile, but when you reach for a cupcake or you order a cake, there's a smile in there somewhere, even if it's small. Even if you're buying it to get over a break up. You want to smile. You want to feel better. And dessert and pastries and chocolates- they help.

I want to make everyone who eats my pastries and chocolates and candies to smile, even if it's just a small one inside. I want them to feel better. I want them to have a good day.

Sometimes I lose sight of this, and I think I'll never make it or what's the point? But I find my way again, as sappy as that sounds.

Of Secrets

These secrets, like any secrets, could kill us.

These never-been-tolds, these Once Upon A Times without Happily Ever Afters, these deep hopes, these true dreams.

They could drown us, strangle us, leave us with nothing and nowhere to go.

Instead, they leave us looking up at the stars and moon in the middle of the night, and searching for these things in the middle of the day. They leave us wondering if we'll ever be free, and if we'll ever make more.

They leave us with the story on the tip of our tongues, wanting to whisper "Do you remember...?" and laugh out loud.

They leave us with a heavy heart, and even more of themselves, and no place to rest our weary wings.

On Instinct

Today I was dipping sample-sized apple slices in chocolate, and then in cinnamon. Denise's new boyfriend came in and so she offered him one.

"What is it?" he asked, and she told him to just eat it.

Right after she said that, I thought "What if he's allergic to apple or cinnamon?" and panicked for a minute, about to say that, but decided that she'd know/I was just freaking out because I happen to be allergic to everything.

Right after I dismissed the thought, I hear "Shit, that was an apple, wasn't it?"

"Yeah. Why? It's good!" says Denise.

"I'm allergic to apples!"

It was weird. Weirder thing is, these types of things keep happening. Not the allergy warnings, but things like always picking the right number of fruit/skewers though I couldn't even know how much was needed, or I know when something's going to hit the fan right before, or a bit before, it happens. I know when people are lying to me even if it's totally believable. I know when people are hiding something from me.

It's just weird.

It's probably nothing. But it's still weird.

When Full Circle Doesn't Apply

I can't say I've come full circle, can I?

We grew up together, we broke apart, and we're back again, but it's me looking from the outside in.

She's in my place. She's your new Me. I wonder how that feels, for both of you. For all of you. To see her and to see me and to realize...

What? What do you realize? Because I'm really curious. What do you see when you see her instead of me?

I wouldn't be surprised if you said nothing. Because you're both a liar and blind.

But don't worry. I feel no resentment. I laugh. Because for once, looking from the outside in is actually a good thing. It makes me smile. It makes me laugh. It makes me spin and shout out gleefully what a world we live in.

Something you could never do.

Of Fears and Failure

So I've been thinking about fears a lot lately. Like, what is my biggest fear? And it's usually brought on by something irrational, I guess.

Example A- Yesterday I was reading this plot and pacing guide thing on WriteOnCon. Totally scared me and got me to thinking I'll never be a writer and I'll never get published and I'll die alone in a hole without anyone ever reading my writing and thinking "Oh my god, she GETS it." (or something like that)

And mainly because one of my stories right now doesn't have a main plot. Two of them. And the past ones failed (though they had plots...some of them).  Small plots, sub plots, sure. Not really a big defined, exciting plot.

Well I have a plot now. I feel better. But I guess that's always been a fear of mine since I started seriously writing (uhm... grade 8-ish. Maybe 9).

Exhibit B (whoa, I just switched there, didn't I?)- A week and a half ago I had a freak out because I thought I was never going to become a great pastry chef. I don't have a singular passion for it- I want to do everything. And you see all those famous chefs, and it seems like they live for food and only food. But I want to be so much else. I want to become a riding instructor. I want to go to school for Egyptology, and anything else ancient history-esque. I want to become a famous writer (could you tell?). I want to travel.

And so after crying about it and talking to a couple of my friends, about an hour later I was thinking up the whole Chocolate cupcake with raspberry-chocolate filling and lemon buttercream icing. Yeah. Figure that out and then tell me.

And then there's a bunch of small little freak outs.

So basically (wow, lately my posts have scattered points) I think I'm afraid of failure. Which Julia says everyone is. So I guess it's not abnormal. But a bit ago I had no worries, I had no doubts. And I guess it's the whole friends-going-off-to-university-and-I'm-well..


Of The New You

It's kind of hard knowing who you want to be, even when the world is telling you you're an adult now.

You do something once, and it seems that the whole impression of you that someone's had just... changes. Completely. They suddenly think that you want to be the "new" you all the time. They decide they like that You, and so they push it more and more. And when you say no, try to revert back, they don't believe it. They think they can push you into being the New You.

Because they like the New You better than they ever liked the Old You.

And perhaps, and I might be stretching it a bit to suit my needs, they don't want you to rise above them and say "This is me, the REAL me. I'm not the You everyone now wants me to be. I'm Me, despite you hating it."

Because they can't see how anyone wouldn't want to be them. Or how anyone can get out of being them.

I don't know. Maybe I'm just rambling. Maybe I don't have a point.

But I think I do.

Of Questions and Dreams

My life right now is a lot of what to say and who to say it to. What are the consequences? What are the pros?  If I say this to this person, will they or could they hurt me with it? How much do I give away? How much do I take?

Do I take this step? What could happen if I do? Pros and Cons, think about the Pros and Cons. Is it this person's time to make the move, or should I?

I try not to think about it too much. I don't really want to go into a depressive phase where dreams are too much better than reality.

They are. I feel that way now. But I still feel like there's a reason, a spark, in being awake. I want to keep it that way.

Of Drama and Doubt

So, everybody...

You can call me an idiot right now, though I gave that decision to some of my real friends and they said no, I'm not an idiot. The others are.

I've been regretting this friendship since an hour after it "started."

Rachel, the one who bugged me, insulted me, pushed me, and yelled at me for opting out of the NYC trip doesn't want to be my friend because of all the things I said to her. Me? I can't even remember what I've said, but I know she was doing most of the talking, trying to force me into things both when she was my friend and after we all split.

And as Sara's new BFF, well, she gets a good say in whether or not I'm "accepted" back into the group.

I had thought I made it clear when I agreed to a new start that I'm not going to be the same girl I was before, and that I am not going to be part of their exclusive group. I don't want to be Sara's best friend again, and I won't be the leader of the group, but I won't be led either.

I guess I didn't.

And Sara doesn't think there's the possibility of anything wrong going on between her and Rachel, like it had us. I don't know how to take that.

Last night, though, the drama started. Apparently I told Sara Michelle hate's Rachel, when I didn't. Yay.

I dispelled that rumor pretty quick, but there's more to come, I'm sure. And right now? I'm missing the no-drama days of a week ago.

Was this all worth it? I'm seriously starting to doubt.

On Fate and Reasons

I pretty much believe that everything happens for a reason.

Given that, I still don't try to think about it too much, because then I'd stand in one place forever, waiting for myself to make a decision that would be most fate-ish.

So I'm hoping the lesson I'm about to learn, or the reason behind this recent turn of events, is something less painful. I won't count on it though.

I still don't know if my last lesson was supposed to come with the no-trust clause, or if I took a wrong turn somewhere.

Of Trying Over

It's nice having some of my old friends back, despite everything.

There's the doubt still there, and perhaps it will always be there, but I think we can all do better.

Four of the five of us agree that we weren't as great of friends as we thought we were, and the break, though horrible for all of us (though I was right, I was the only one blamed for everything) was necessary to realize how fucked up it really was. As for the fifth person, well, what she knows is minimal right now.

Despite all I've been working towards these past months, I never got to the point that I could remember all the good things without a tinge of bitterness. The reminder was there- we'd never have more memories like that again.

Now it doesn't seem that way.

Not to say that there's not a lot to fix. There's a lot. And I'm not all sure it will work, but I'm hoping it will. I don't think I can handle another February right now. But I won't compromise myself to prevent it. If it's seriously not working, I'll pack my bags.

Of Rules

I'm not going to change myself. I've changed enough in the past half a year, and I like who I am now. I've worked hard to get where I am now. I don't want to revert back to someone who can't enjoy life without having nods from everyone.

I shall not lead. I am tired of leading. It is a lonely position, being at the top. And I've tired of it.

Nor will I be led. I will do as I wish, when I wish. If someone has a good idea, I will stand behind it. If the so-called "leader" has an idea which I do not like, I shall not stand behind it. It is that simple.

I am independent. I am not tied with a string to these people. I am not an elastic. I am me, tied to them by nothing but memories. And memories fade.

I can do without. I have done so once, and I have enjoyed it. If push comes to shove, I know I can live happily alone.

I will not spend all my time with them. I have a life independent of theirs. They will respect that, or see me off.

As well, I will not compromise my activities, emotions, well-being, and whatever else for these people. They've lost any hold they once had over me. This is from scratch now, and I owe them nothing, not even a missed Tai Chi lesson.

These are the rules. My rules. My safety. As well as many other small safety-nets. These people have not earned my trust or loyalty. They may never. Time will tell.

Of Perspective

Dear Diary,
I've made the worst mistake of my life.


Dear Diary,
I've made the best decision possible.


I don't know which one it is.

Of The Best Memory

I think I've said this before, but I think the moments I miss most of my past all happened last year when I ran away.

I ran to Josh's house, sobbing and probably scared the hell out of his mom and brother. We called around and texted and instant-messaged a bunch of people to see where I could stay. I was in a shirt too small and jeans I'd worn for something like three days straight. I thought I couldn't go to Sara's because it was too late at night and no lights were on.

We got a hold of Michelle and I stayed at her house that night, watching infomercials on repeat until we fell asleep side-by-side on her bed, and waking up not knowing where I was or what had happened.

And then I was told, sharply, by Sara that I should have come over and sought help there, because she'd never turn me away, no matter how late it was.

She proved me wrong. For the first time in a long time, and the last time in a long while.

They both did. They acted like the sisters we claimed to be.

And though it ended in something that makes me shudder even today, and even though after all that we just fell apart almost immediately following... Even though...

It all makes me feel happy, and later torn when I realize it's over. This will never happen again.

Strange how the worst times in your life can host the best memories.

And I wonder if anyone I know, anyone who remembers this, is reading this right now. One of those thoughts that I commonly wonder and worry about.

And I wonder if anyone is nodding along, or feels the tears at the edge of their eyes at the memory. Or if they're shaking their head and closing the window at this folly.

It doesn't mean I want this all back. I'm over wanting the past all back, because if this was the best time of the past several years, then there's something seriously wrong with this burnt picture, and I know what it is.

Still. I'd like to smile a little hesitantly and wave slightly at whoever is reading this. Now. Tomorrow. Late. Early.

It's 2:21 in the morning, Monday August 2nd. This, my dears, is what I think of when all defenses are down.

Of Blame and Faults

We are told we are blameless, then we are told we are to blame for everything inour lives. What is it? Other's decisions aren't our fault, and yet they effect our lives and seem to turn it all into something we're to blame for.

How do we know how much everyone is to blame? Is it 50/50? Or are we in the position to change this number where appropriate?

I'm looking at this all, and I know what happened and how I got here, where I am, sitting on this step and not knowing where to turn and alternately loving and hating it, but I don't know when this started. And it doesn't matter, not really, but it's like this big unknown that I really need an answer to.

I could blame a million people for everything that has brought me here, I would, given a chance, but I can't. But I can't see how this is all my fault, like I'm supposed to.

I'm putting two and two together, but it's not equaling four.

Is it my fault? Is it my fault that this all happened, because I'm me and I think too deeply, or is it their fault, for not being able to handle it? If someone's not necessarily nice to me, and I end it all, is it their fault for being as such, or is it mine for not being able to deal? I get two different answers, and a billion different answers, but it's basically the same question, isn't it?

Who is at fault? Who is to blame? And if there's two or three or four at fault here, who gets what piece of the blame? Who is qualified to judge such a thing?

Of Being Contrary to Popular Belief

Contrary to popular belief, I don't mind getting up in the morning as long as I've had good sleep. Which is hard to come by these days.

Heck, yesterday I was so tired, but at eight twenty in the morning, I just couldn't get enough of being outside so early, in the quiet, and just... enjoying it.

Until my ex boyfriend came by in his car and called out my name. Note that I was in Friday's clothes, and had Friday's hair (when I get my mom to braid my hair, and it stays in semi-tameness, I like to keep it in as long as I can as I love braids). Figures. Oh, and he's still an ass. A cute ass, but nevertheless...

I also enjoy, at times, reading happy stories. You know, those light ones with a happy ending. I'm not totally cold hearted. I just tend to lean towards the tragic and the gothic.

Oh, and one last thing. Contrary to popular belief, I really am not that much of a "bitch." You get what you give from me, it's something that runs in my family. Tones are a big thing, too. And, as the song goes, if you mess with me, I'll mess you up.