Celebrating a Milestone

In honour of the 40th anniversary of the unveiling of the Big Mac I did the unthinkable. I usually avoid McDonald's like the plague, but such a momentous occasion deserves to be celebrated. So, I went and had a Big Mac for lunch in honour of its birthday.

I haven't had a big mac since high school. I wish I could say it was as good as I remember it from back then, but sadly some things are not as good in reality as they are in your memory. I'm thinking it'll be another 10 years before I have another. So until the 50th anniversary, congrats on becoming an icon of American culture Big Mac.

The Plot Thickens

With more facebook creeping I have now discovered that the reason Mr. Intellectuals parents have sold the childhood home and are moving is because they're getting a divorce! I always knew that their relationship wasn't great, but they had their moments and you could tell they did love each other on some level. As the years went by things between them were deteriorating, especially during the end of Mr. Intellectual's maternal grandmother's lengthy illness and after her death. I always thought that perhaps they'd get a divorce, but it was one of those things that I never really expected to happen.

His mother is moving around the corner to a semi-detached house, a definite step down, with Mr. Intellectual's younger brother who is 21. I haven't been able to find out where his father and he are going. I suspect Mr. Intellectual will move in with the current girlfriend, or continue renting wherever it is he was renting during school. The younger brother will have little to do with their father since he has always been his mother's son to the core. It's definitely a shock to me, and I want to reach out to him, but I know I can't.

He's Moving!

I found out through a little bit of facebook creeping that Mr. Intellectual’s family is moving from his childhood home. As of August 14th they will no longer be in the house where I spent so much of my high school days and my early twenties. I’m not sure why I feel so upset about it since I haven’t stepped foot in that house in almost 2 years. They’re essentially moving around the corner, probably into a smaller house, but it’s not the same. All my associations with that family, all the memories I have are wrapped up in that house and how I know it is laid out and decorated. I lost my virginity in that house, made my promise to Mr. Intellectual out on the back patio, laughed and loved in that home. I could just cry now that it’s all gone.

Up until now I’ve resisted the urge to drive by the house to see how things are. This past weekend I was driving past his neighbourhood and despite the strong urge to make the turn onto his street I resisted. I’m not sure what I’m hoping to see when I have that desire to do a drive by. I think it’s the nostalgia perhaps, and missing aspects of him and our relationship. I still think of him often, although it’s not every single day anymore it’s still a couple of times a week or so. There are so many associations wrapped up in that house and once they move, that connection will be gone which makes me sad.


I think that I will go past there one night, sometime before they move just to say my good byes to it all.

The Lows of Dating

I've discovered that Candidate #2 has been logging into his online dating profile on an almost daily basis. Shortly after we started dating I deleted mine, and he told me he had suspended his. I don't know when he reactivated it. I thought he was different and trusted him so I never really checked up on it- despite the fact that my two previous boyfriends continued to log into dating sites after we had become exclusive, or so I thought.

So far I have been unable to confront him about it, and it is tearing me up inside. Especially since lately he's been really great and we seem to be getting closer. Now I'm questioning it as a decent distraction so I won't suspect what's going on.

I don't know what I should do.

Algonquin Weekend

Tea Lake, Algonquin Park

Algonquin was beautiful. Unfortunately it was only really nice for one of the 3 days we spent in the park. However, that one glorious sunny day more than made up for the two rainy, cold days we spent huddle around the fire, cursing our luck.

Ontario, Yours to Discover

Tom Thomson, Northern River, 1915

I’m going camping this weekend in Algonquin Provincial Park. I’m not a big camping kind of girl and have never been to Algonquin before, despite it being one of the treasures of Ontario. At well over 7000 square kilometers it is a huge expanse of protected wilderness and the inspiration for one of Canada’s darlings- Tom Thompson, and later the Group of Seven. Tom Thomson’s fateful love affair with the park in the early 1900’s ushered in a new era in Canadian art. He and the Group of Seven would go on to created some of the most iconic images of Canada and helped forge a nascent Nationalism in our young country. So it’s only appropriate that I’ll be celebrating Canada’s birthday here this weekend.

Tom Thomson, The Jack Pine, 1916-1917

Despite having a minor in Art History and having studied Canadian fine art and the Group of Seven in particular, I’ve never felt the yearning desire to go where Tom Thompson went. It is only Candidate #2’s unbridled passion for camping and the wilderness that is drawing me up north this weekend. I am of course apprehensive, since I’m always a bit timid when it comes to the unknown, but at least I have confidence in the experienced group that I’m going with.

Tom Thomson, Sunset Sky, 1915

Last Night...

Last night you held me in your arms.

Last night, instead of rolling over to our respective places you held me tight and stayed close by until the sun came up.

Last night a shift in our relationship occurred.

Last night in the whispered silence you came to understand a part of me I hide.

This morning I wonder if you will treat me differently, as a flawed and fragile being.

101 Things in 1001 Days

I've found myself bumping into this concept all over the internet lately and it's been growing on me. A quick Google search led me to lots of websites, with a lot of different ideas of what people wanted to accomplish in 1001 days. It appeals to the "5 year plan" side of myself, and seems like a pretty manageable time frame- a little over 2 1/2 years. At some point today I'd like to sit down and put together my own list of 101 things with concrete steps follow in order to achieve the more complex items. I like that the list might force to step out of my comfort zone and finally do some of the things I've only dreamt of and then put aside.

Trying and Giving Up

Trying in a relationship shouldn't feel like this. It shouldn't feel like you're gasping for breath. It shouldn't feel like the burning sting of a whiplash on exposed flesh. It shouldn't feel like sleepless nights and restless dreams. It shouldn't be a mantra repeated over and over in your head until it becomes a scream.

I'm trying.I'm trying.I'm FUCKING trying!

And every time you leave the threshold of his door, you suck in your breath in pain and feel hollow inside. Numb and alone, there doesn't feel like there's anything for you there and you wonder why you keep coming back. Do you thrive on feeling alone and unloved within a relationship? Or is it that you hate being proved wrong, yet again?

Pillow Talk

Candidate #2: (groans as he tries to crack his lower back).

Me: Still hurting, eh?

C2: My back has been killing me all week.

Me: Too much sex, eh?

C2: (laughing) I guess...

Me: (Deadpanning) Don't worry, I'll fuck you limber yet.

C2: (stunned silence before breaking out into a huge laugh) You need to put that on a t-shirt.

Stopping to Smell the Roses

I desperately needed something to lift my mood, even temporarily. So, I went and cut a single bloom from our rose bush out front to put on my desk. It provided a temporary respite from the darkness and smells so amazing while I'm working at the computer. I do need to find a proper bud vase though, since all I had that was small enough was a shot glass.

Another Day in Paradise

I am homesick. I ache for the quiet, green spaces of the farm. Taking my morning tea on the back patio, in the silent, dappled shade and drinking in the tranquility while I contemplate life and watch my mother’s gardens grow. I find a peace here inside myself that eludes me anywhere else I go.

I long for the warm embrace of family, the little arms of a toddler squeezing you in a hug of pure joy and excitement to be with you. The way she giggles and squeals when you push her higher on the swing set. His slow, shy smile bursting into a grin when you tease. The littlest one asleep in my arms, content and oblivious as only a newborn can be.

Instead I’m filled with a silent rage, trapped in increasingly inhospitable surroundings. I feel impotent to change anything, so I sit seething in frustration and dreaming of what I miss most.

Student Email Bag

From: First Year Student
To: TA Ms. Canuck
Subject: Course Requirements
Date: 2 weeks into the semester

Ms. Canuck,
I was just wondering what would be the least amount of work I could do and still pass the course?

- Student.


I was cleaning out my inbox from this year and rediscovered this gem. Usually I get emails from students after a test or paper has been handed back and they realize they haven't done as well as planned. The requests are usually for ways they can improve or do work to bump up a low grade, but never something so blatantly unmotivated. I'm guessing Mommy & Daddy wanted little Billy to have a University degree and he could care less about being here.

Dress for Success

I decided to look around on the Nine West website to get some inspiration for a possible graduation outfit. Given that I'll be wearing a longish black robe, and the fact that my feet will be eye level with the audience when I ascend the podium to be given my collar and parchment I thought it only appropriate to select footwear first. I fell in love with these shoes immediately, and an ensemble was born.

After all the problems and heartache I had completing my Master's degree, I decided that some irreverent footwear was called for. It's a reminder not to take myself, or my education, too seriously. It is just a degree. I'm going to pair these Nine West "Angeni" leopard print pumps with a form fitting black pencil skirt, a white button down shirt and a string of pearls. It's all so very 'naughty librarian'. I know that graduation is usually a fairly solemn and serious occasion, however, for me it is anything but. I feel like much of my MA was a joke- particularly my relationship with my advisor, and how things were done in regard to my thesis. It may be too late to change all of that, but this will be my final statement when I finally become a Master of the Arts.

Time Management

Motivation and procrastination have been two of my biggest problems in the last couple of months. I decided to check out a book from the library on time management in a post-secondary setting in the hopes of either spurring on motivation or garnering new tips to stave off procrastination. Although I'm only half way through the book I've realized that I slowly lost so many really great time management skills, techniques and methods from my undergraduate. Once my days and weeks lost the more rigid structure that course work provided and I was left to my own devices to come up with a manageable plan of study, it all went downhill. Some of my most consistently productive semesters came out of my undergraduate, and it took reading this book to realize it.

I know it's going to take quite a bit of effort to work back up to my former level of organization and productivity, however, in the end I will have to surpass it in order to finish my Ph.D in the allotted 4 year time span. Considering the fact that I'm still on the fence about whether or not I even want to be here and do a doctorate, this seems like a monumental task.

The Graduates Dilemma

Spring Convocation season is here for every University and College campus, mine included. Next week I finally get to pick up that piece of paper that signifies I've completed my Masters. It's anti-climactic, and yet when I think of all the sleepless nights, tears, anxiety, frustration, personal trauma and set backs that went into acquiring that piece of parchment I know I should feel more than what I do. Sure, it's an achievement to say I completed a Masters degree and yet it's left me feeling less educated and academically aware of the world than I did prior to entering into the program.

To say I've become jaded and slightly bitter with the institution is an understatement. I love education and learning new things, but at the end of my 2 1/2 year stint as an MA student academia has lost its lustre for me and I keep trying to grasp at straws to regain my motivation for a Ph.D. It doesn't help that for the past year I've been going to classes where I have yet to learn anything new- it's just jumping through hoops until I've satisfied the requirements that allow me to do what I want with my research and time. This is not how I envisioned a Ph.D.

Despite all of this I have a graduation. The first dilemma is whether or not to actually attend. Having been there once, I'm not enamoured with the prospect of sitting through several hours in the hot, humid June air to receive my parchment, along with several hundred undergraduates. My parents, however, would be upset if I didn't attend, especially after everything I've had to overcome to complete my degree. So the second dilemma is the eternal question of what to wear? I know I've done this once before, and yet I feel like this time I need to one up myself. Last time I wore a smart white skirt and black and white mod looking top. I have a BCBG dress very similar to this, but in chocolate brown, however I feel like that might be too much cleavage for a graduation. It's too hot for pants, and I have to be careful of the colour I choose to wear so it doesn't look mismatched with the robe and collar. I'm dreading going to the mall to look for something to wear, but it looks like that's what will have to happen after all. It's tempting to just go naked under that robe like so many cliched Hollywood movies.

The key, however, is not so much what you're wearing, but the shoes you choose. For all graduates, when you step on that podium to receive your degree your feet are generally at eye level with the audience and that is what everyone notices. Avoid flip flops and running shoes, do get a nice pedicure and heaven forbid you clomp around like a work horse.

The Date with Candidate #2

Shortly before my birthday I agreed to go out on a date with this guy. Originally we were going to the drive-in on a Saturday night, but my nerves and his work schedule put an end to that idea. He was planning on being back in town mid-day Sunday, at which point he was going to call me and we’d figure out something to do together that afternoon. I figured a walk or going out for ice cream, or something equally easy going and spontaneous would make for a decent date.

The Date: He ended up heading back to my university town late Saturday afternoon and called me up on his way home. Candidate #2 asked if I was available to go out for a drink that evening with him since business wrapped up earlier than expected and he figured why wait until Sunday to meet up. I was feeling pretty spontaneous and tired of being cooped up at home and agreed to the short notice date. He would call me back to confirm a time once he got into town, so I had a couple of hours to get ready.

On his way to pick me up before heading out to the local Irish pub, he got a call from a group of his buddies who’d been drinking all afternoon and on the spur of the moment decided to go to the exact same pub as he had suggested we go to. I found out later that these guys rarely go to this bar, and prefer the cowboy bar on the other side of town as a general rule, which is why Candidate #2 suggested the Irish pub in the first place. This put him in an awkward position- he could take me somewhere else and run the risk of having me think he doesn’t want his friends to see him out with me, or he could just say fuck it and hope for the best from his rowdy friends. He decided to tell me what was up and left it in my hands.

Lucky for him I hadn’t been out in while and felt up for some mischief, so I agreed to just keep with our original plans. At the very least it would be entertaining and I was curious to see him amongst his friends since that’s the quickest way to get a reading on what kind of a person he is. It’s easy to act a certain way on a first date, but it’s pretty hard to be someone else when you’re around good friends who know better and would probably call him on it.

Driving out to the bar the conversation was fairly natural and easy going. There was very little tension and nervousness between us, and no awkward silences, which is so rare in a first date. We were able to get in half a beer before his friends showed up and the gong show began. They were an absolute riot and just what I needed at the time to get my mind off things. After a couple of hours on the patio at the Irish pub we all decided to head over to the cowboy bar. Candidate #2 was pretty sweet and attentive the whole night and rarely left me alone with these guys, probably for good reason since the stories were getting pretty colourful and they were getting flirtier. At one point while he went to the bathroom I was left with one guy who was seriously hitting on me while mildly trash talking my date. It was all in good fun since they genuinely like Candidate #2 and were happy to see him with some one for a change- although they thought he was a bit of an idiot for bringing me out with them on the first date.

Shortly after 1am Candidate #2 decided he should get me home and away from the boys. I would have been fine staying until close, but figured there were reason’s why he wanted me to leave before them. At some point in the few weeks we had talked over msn the subject of first kisses had come up, so I was aware that he was a bit timid when it came to making the move for a first kiss. After pulling up to my place we just sat in the jeep for a bit talking about things and flirting some more.

I’m not sure exactly how it happened, but soon enough I had leaned over slide a hand behind his neck to draw him closer and gave him a kiss. I think it shocked him a little bit, since it was unexpected and pretty forward. For the next 20 minutes however, we made out like it was high school all over again. Don’t ask me how this happened but at one point his hand found its way to my breast, and he claims now that I whimpered and didn’t move his hand so he continued what he was doing. In all my dating life I have never allowed a guy to grab the girls on the first date, especially not during a good night kiss! To say there was chemistry between us was an understatement. Despite having the house to myself that night, I did not ask him in, even though the thought had crossed my mind. So, we left it at that and I went inside to bed while he went to meet up with the guys for one last drink and greasy food.



Candidate #2 called the next afternoon to ask me over for a bbq and a casual afternoon on the back deck with him and his best friend.

Morning Ritual

When you wake up more days in a row than you can remember with frustration and sadness it is time to do something different. Now to figure out what I need to do differently, short of moving out of here.

Struggles

I close my eyes and tip my head back as the tears start to fall. Pressing the palms of my hands to my eyes with the futile hope of pressing out the image of your face behind my closed lids. Those piercing, slate blue eyes. I choke back a sob, but it’s too late to rebury the overwhelming emotions. I miss you. It’s as simple as that.

Eventually every new relationship is unfairly compared to you and comes up lacking. Perhaps it’s my self-destructive tendencies that cause me to pick less than desirable men. A sadistic loathing of myself as a person motivating my actions. There are uneasy pinpricks surrounding the veracity of the new relationship with Candidate #2. Something is not right and I leave feeling more alone and isolated inside my head after being with him than before. Yet I come back for more, whether it is to clarify the problem or torture myself I know not. It is then that you come to mind, my safe haven in a confusing world.

You were always there, even if you weren’t. I desperately wish I could forget you and move on, to let go of you and find peace with our time spent together, and I think for the most part I have. Until I find myself in the arms of another man and I’m left feeling hollow and one-dimensional. I’m left to thrash it out on my own. Struggling with my internal demons and coming to grips with the choices I’ve made in this lifetime.

A Happy Birthday

A few days ago I celebrated my 26th birthday. Candidate #2 sent these to my parents house to surprise me, and wish me a happy birthday- it was quite the surprise all things considered.