Guilt Roses

During the last dying gasps of my relationship with Candidate #2, I was struggling to cope with the start of school, failing to meet expectations and not having assignments completed that are now almost a year overdue. I also had some unexpected financial worries and health concerns that are still ongoing. I was trying to distance myself from him and trying to figure out how to end it all amicably. I've always been bad at ending relationships and they usually wreak havoc on my emotions even if I want out because I hate hurting people.

It was an especially bad week, and I was just waiting for Friday to roll around before breaking up so that he'd at least have the weekend to mope around and deal before showing up at work again. He decided to surprise me and unexpectedly showed up at my place on Thursday evening with two dozen red roses. Apparently it was the first time he had ever done something like this despite being 33 and obviously having had several serious relationships in the past.

He wanted to give me something to smile about since he knew I was having a bad week and wasn't myself. From anyone else and under different circumstances it would have been an exceptionally sweet gesture. Instead I ended up feeling guilty and the roses bought him an extra two weeks since I couldn't bring myself to be so cruel as to break up with him the next day. They were beautiful but in the end there were just too many things that were very wrong with that relationship to save it.

Going Through the Motions

Jane Canuck, Wellbutrin, 10/09/07

Some days are easier than others. I’m under closer observation by my physician and my medication has been increased, but it’s not really any easier. I don’t feel like I’m drowning, but I also have a difficult time finding value in life.

I wake up and focus on getting myself out of bed. With Daylight Saving being extended this year I’m finding it especially difficult to get started in the morning when it’s still dark as night. My day seems to be focused on the next meal, the next commitment I can’t back out of and just getting through the day intact. Every night while I struggle to fall asleep I fervently wish that tomorrow will be better. The thought of continuing on indefinitely with seemingly little purpose begins to choke me. I feel like my existence serves no purpose, like I’m not doing anything or contributing anything and I will just grind through every day, going through the motions of a life, until one day it will all stop and nothing will have mattered.

The things that use to matter to me hold little interest now and I wonder if they ever will. I know that I used to love photography, needlework, reading fiction and expanding my mind through education. Now I look at those things with a disinterested eye and it evokes no emotion. It is hard to find beauty in a world that has become so emotionless for me. Sometimes I force myself to do the things I used to love, but I can’t concentrate for very long, and going through the motions is not like actually enjoying yourself. Doing something for the sake of doing it does not imbue value in that activity. Mostly I try for my Mother. I understand her worry and the desperate desire to make it all better. I see the feelings of hopelessness in her eyes and I want to tell her it’s ok. I want to tell her that sometimes despite a person’s best efforts there is nothing they can do, and that really is ok. I’m not going anywhere. I will go through the motions for you, and maybe one day I really will be ok.

Starting Over

Last night I went for a run. I’ve said for years that I can’t run to save my life. The last time I remember running for anything was playing tag in elementary school and the gym class I took in high school where we played field lacrosse and baseball among other things.

Last night I had to be alone, I had to be outside in the dark. I felt the walls closing in on me and I needed to clear my head. A walk just wasn’t going to cut it. And so I ran. I ran until my throat started burning and my legs were sore. I ran until I stopped thinking about him and what happened. For someone who’s never run in her life before, I don’t think I did too badly. I need to work on my breathing, but I’m proud of how many kilometers I ran versus how many blocks I walked.

Yesterday my doctor told me I needed to be selfish and start looking after myself. It’s not something we often hear as a woman. We’ve been raised to nurture and consider others, to always be polite and think of the other person. Selfish wasn’t really in my upbringing as my mother modeled absolute selflessness in regards to her family. Being told to be selfish is somewhat unusual, and yet she was right. I don’t look after myself, I don’t eat properly, I don’t exercise regularly and when I’m with a boyfriend I usually put myself second. Last night I thought of myself and went for a run.

Today is a different story. I’m back to being confused and wondering if I did the right thing, puzzling over the ‘what ifs’ and feeling hurt that he appears to be getting over me so quickly. I want to talk to him to clarify things in my mind, but I know I should just leave it alone. I feel like I want to spend one more night wrapped in his arms while I sleep, and then in the morning we smile as friends and go our separate way. That’s the idealist in me. The realist knows I can’t go there and what is best for both of us right now is for me to give him space and leave him alone completely. I did the right thing and there were so many reasons why we never quite fit together but that doesn’t stop me from missing things about him.

It’s time to start over and get reacquainted with myself. It’s time to think of what is best for me and to get a little selfish for a change.

Breaking Up Is Hard To Do

You tell me you love me, but you don’t show me. I tell you I can’t do this anymore and you ask for a couple of days.

“We deserve that at least?” You say.

“That’s only fair.” I reply.

But inside I’m screaming and outside the tears are running down my cheeks. I feel sick to my stomach and I know that you don’t really get me. I feel like I can’t be myself around you and you’ve never really listened to the words that come out of my mouth. Like almost everyone else I’ve ever had a relationship with you only seem interested in what my mouth can do while it’s wrapped around your cock.

You slyly denigrate my work- the very essence of what I am. It’s all I have and right now it is slipping out of my hands and you have no idea.

I wake up every morning and I’m angry. I go to bed every night and I want to slit my wrists, and somewhere in between there I lose myself a little bit more. It’s time to get out before I lose it all.

“I’m speechless. I don’t know what to say right now.” You whisper.

“It’s ok,” I say soothingly, “You don’t have to say anything.”

And just like that I’m once again thinking of someone else’s needs instead of my own, regardless of the consequences to myself. Tomorrow I call my Doctor to up my meds before I do something ridiculous.

Writers Paralysis

I haven’t written a single thing for my degree in almost 4 months. It’s a bit of a shocking realization, and yet not a complete surprise. I’ve worked myself up into a complete state of writer’s block, and worse than that paralysis since I can’t even open up a word document to try to peck away at it, let alone sit to write an entire paper. My mother is beyond concerned but there’s little she can do to force me to finish my two outstanding papers. The consequences of having an incomplete course that is now almost 1 year old is something I don’t really want to think about at the moment. It only fuels my paralysis and feelings of panic.

An acquaintance of mine from the old University had a similar problem in that she was having issues committing to a topic and writing anything coherent. She finally went to the graduate coordinator to explain that she was having significant difficulties and to seek some advice. This is the gem that the grad coordinator left her with:

Grad Coordinator: “Simply stop talking about it and get some A/C.”

Her: “You think I should get air conditioning?”

Grad Coordinator: “No, you need ass on chair. Start writing.”

Funny, but in the end not the most helpful piece of advice. That being said, I’m trying hard to commit to some “ass on chair” time to hammer out these two papers hanging over my head. To say they’re dragging me down is an understatement. I haven't been able to even write out an opening sentence, let alone an opening paragraph.

An Inauspicious Beginning

School starts again tomorrow and I wonder how I got to the place I am right now. I wonder how I’ll manage to dig myself out of this hole, or if I even can? I think about packing it all in and going home. Of sleeping away my days until everything resolves itself. Yet I know that I’m on my own now and it’s my problem to fix. It is my mess to clean up as best I can, and face the consequences if I can’t.

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.