When It Rains, It Pours

And I love the rain! (Seriously, as a Vancouver girl, you have to learn to embrace it or you'll never get out of bed.)

A lot of good stuff has flown at me over the past couple weeks. First, I can officially call myself a freelance writer (emphasis on the free, but that's neither here nor there) as I landed a gig writing for Kitsilano.ca. I get to write pretty much anything I want about what's going on in my neighbourhood. Fashion, food, fitness - it's all up to me to explore and document it all. Is there anything more fun than that? (At the risk of shameless self-promotion, I'll just casually pop in this link here...k that's all.)

Second, I got accepted to the Masters program in English Literature at UBC! This blog initially started out as a way for me to document my life as an English student and aspiring writer/professor, so I am SO happy (and relieved) that the pieces are falling into place. I recently was introduced to the following quote, and I have turned to it in moments of stress and uncertainty and moments of happiness and clarity. I find it especially relevant today.

“Eventually all things fall into place. Until then, laugh at the confusion, live for the moments, and know EVERYTHING HAPPENS FOR A REASON." 

-Albert Schweitzer

This is the philosophy I live with - to work hard and be smart, but to laugh when things may go wrong, be in the moment, and trust that what is meant to be will be. If you do that, you can always have a smile on, knowing that things will turn out right in the end.

Now, I will have to share more about my impending studies later, as I have a writing assignment to work on and some graduate courses to enroll in - yay!

Beautiful Dreams

Do you ever have one of those moments when you're looking at something that you've seen a thousand times before, and realize that you're really seeing it for the first time?

This morning I was drinking my coffee in bed (don't judge me) when I read the quote printed on the mug I was using. My brother gave me this mug when I graduated from high school (which means I've had it for five years, and even the fact that I have a mug, um, problem (there are too many to count; it challenges the nail polish collection) doesn't excuse my ignorance, as I also have a coffee (umm..) problem and drink three cups a day without a dishwasher so every mug gets used on a regular basis; simple calculations tell me I have used this particular mug at least 500 times) and it boasts the following beautiful quotation:

"The future belongs to those who believe in the beauty of their dreams."

-Eleanor Roosevelt

Now, I have of course read the quote many times before. I've always thought it lovely and very fitting as a graduation gift. But today was the first time I really read it and felt it truly inspire me.

I'd always been a big dreamer with many plans and aspirations for the future. But I worry that lately I have settled into a rut. I have justified my comfort and lack of ambition to others and myself as saying that I desperately need this time. For the first time in my life, I clock in for about 35 hours a week, and the other 130 hours are mine to do as I please. No two other jobs, no school and studying, just free time. It is glorious to have this time to sleep and socialize and run and write and read. But I have somehow lost all ambition amidst the 9am alarms, lazy afternoons, and late nights. Where did my constant planning, lists of goals, and crazy ideas go? It's time to bring them back.

I have many beautiful dreams, and now I need to start believing in them and putting them into action. I want to:

-Run my next half marathon in an hour and a half, so that I can justifiably call myself a "runner"

-Travel to Peru, San Francisco, Australia, and all the other places, near and far, that I constantly add to my List of Places to Go, so that I can be deemed a "traveler"

-Start a career that allows me to write about something I believe in, so that I can finally be labelled a "writer"

The future belongs to those who dream big and believe in the beauty of those dreams. I dream of being a runner, a traveler, and a writer.

What are some of your beautiful dreams?

Thursday

Once in a while, I wake up inspired.

It is wonderful to wake up in the morning feeling so peaceful and positive. When this feeling coincides with a day off, suddenly anything seems possible. And when you realize that the rare February sun is shining, opportunities for the day ahead appear endless. Is there anything better than a blue sky Thursday with absolutely nothing to do? Right now, I can't think of a single thing that could top that.

When I wake up with this feeling of pure contentment and exhilaration, there are two things I want to do. I want to run and I want to write. And today, my schedule and the weather not only permitted but also encouraged both.

After a lazy morning of snoozing the alarm and drinking coffee in bed, I walked down to the beach (yes, walked - more on my new home to come soon, I'm sure, as I'm absolutely obsessed with the Kits life and probably won't be able to not brag about it for much longer) for a lovely run along the sunny but windy seawall. (The flow was somewhat interrupted by my incessant need to stop every thirty seconds to take a picture of the breathtaking view (To my new iPhone: I love you, but you're much too possessive! When will you loosen this hold you have over me?), but nevertheless it was exhilarating.) After nipping home for a shower and lunch I ventured out again to settle into one of my favourite coffee shops with a giant mug of steaming tea, my laptop, a slice of sunshine, and hours of free time to just write.

A day sparked by inspiration and clear skies lends itself to endless opportunity. Sometimes the day calls for adventure and excitement, for new experiences, for activities and plans. But sometimes, it calls for alone time and reflection, for comfort, and for appreciation of the little things.

Sometimes I want to just run and write, and today I got to do both. Is there anything better than that?

Almonds and Oreos

Almonds and Oreos are keeping me company right now on this six-hour bus ride to Vancouver from Kelowna. I spent the past couple days visiting my sister who goes to school there, and now I'm trekking through the Fraser Valley on my way back home.

For most of my last two years at university, I spent every other weekend on the Greyhound to and from Seattle, and so long bus rides are something I am all too familiar with. I can spot the woman who will recline her seat all the way (and I mean all the way) immediately after settling in with her blanket (!), book, and Tupper-Ware of homemade cookies, and so avoid sitting directly behind her. I am not the slightest bit surprised (which can't be said for aforementioned reclining lady) when the guy one seat over and three seats back gets off in Hope to smoke a joint. I know when to look preoccupied enough that certain people won't ask to sit beside me, and when to offer the seat to certain other people in order to accept the lesser of two evils. I also know what snacks to bring. Realistically, I'm never going to eat a sandwich that's been bumping around in my bag for five hours. May as well commit to the Oreos from the get-go. I know who I'm dealing with here.

As un-glamorous and, well, gross as travelling by bus can sometimes be, it is definitely an eye-opener and one more form of travel that showcases things you would otherwise never see. I recently came this close (my fingers are excruciatingly close together) to booking an impromptu trip back to Costa Rica, and in the wake of deciding to stay put for now, realized I could take mini trips in an effort to scratch my travel itch.

I have to say that I am quite surprised that it is working so well so far. You'd think that a bus ride through BC to cold Kelowna would pale in comparison to the exotic jungle and beaches of Costa Rica. But the truth is that when you love travelling, you will somehow find the same satisfaction in every new place you go, no matter where it is or how you get there. Travelling is just as much about being with yourself as it is about being somewhere new, and sometimes what I need from travel isn't necessarily a crazy adventure, but just the opposite. This time, what I really needed was a little break from life, some good sister time, a few new sights and sounds, and some rest and relaxation. And that's exactly what Kelowna had to offer me over the past couple days. An abundance of pancakes, long and chilly nature walks, leisurely soaks in the hot tub, piping hot tea lattes, good catch ups curled up in blankets in front of the TV - these are all simple pleasures that were thoroughly enjoyed during my little vacation. I got exactly what I needed, and I didn't have to travel half way around the world to get it.

Don't get me wrong. I love crazy adventures and exotic locations. That won't change anytime soon. But for now, a short trip to see the sis can serve all my travel desires and turn out to be exactly what the doctor ordered.

Instinct

Oh, life. Just when I think I've got you figured out and have wrapped my head around you, you throw yet another curveball and I realize that I don't understand you at all.

The past week has been a whirlwind of emotions and changes and I'm expecting many people to call me a hypocrite for getting back together with my boyfriend after all the yapping I did about needing alone time to find myself. And I would agree with those people - it is quite hypocritical to go off on a rant about the necessity of being single, and then jump back into a relationship. But the thing is, sometimes you just have to go with your gut. Follow your heart. . . Trust your instincts. . . .

Seriously, I truly believe that your intuition will lead you to the right place, as long as you don't completely lose your head along the way. The day after I wrote my blog post about finding happiness within before looking for it from somebody else, my ex boyfriend told me he wanted to get back together. And at first I really struggled with the decision, because since the break up I had been consistently telling myself that I needed time alone before returning to a relationship. My initial reaction was to start making a list of pros and cons and call a conference amongst my friends to debate the best move to make. But I resisted, and instead I asked myself what felt right. What were my instincts telling me?

Obviously, my instincts were telling me not to give up on this particular relationship. And so I listened to them, and dove back in. What I'm so thankful for, though, is the necessary relationship between intuition and reason, and the ability my writing gives me to marry the two effectively. Had I not written that blog post, I would have still been an emotional wreck when confronted with this decision, and I may have made the same choice, but it would have been for different reasons. Writing, thereby sorting through my thoughts and feelings, put me in a position where I really could trust my instincts, because I was feeling so secure in myself when it came time for them to kick into action.

I guess what I'm getting at is that even when you think you've got it all figured out, something will shift and you'll suddenly realize that nothing is ever certain. But as long as you get to know and trust yourself along the way, you will be able to rely on your instincts to lead you down the right path in those moments that are too abstract for lists and debates.

How to Survive a Break Up or Die Trying

This blog is all about fumbling through my twenties, and a big part of your (read: my) twenties is breaking up. Apparently I am quickly becoming an expert on the subject, and I felt it was my duty to pass along what I've learned so far. Because what's the point in crying into your ice cream bucket (Did I say bucket? I meant bowl.) and discarding every last shred of dignity if others can't learn from your mistakes? So here we go. This is what I know about what to do, and what not to do, to survive a break up.

1) Go for a run. Or if running isn't your thing then go on a bike ride or to a yoga class or just stand up and touch your toes. Do whatever it takes to remind your heart and mind that there is a BODY here that is still intact and needs looking after. Plus, working up a sweat and staying in shape is something you are doing purely FOR YOU - and that is so important right now.

2) DO NOT TEXT HIM. AND DEFINITELY DO NOT CALL HIM. This is the worst. You'll think you can be "casual" and "just friends" but this will NOT happen right away - a text brings conversation and then feelings and then tears and it's just not worth it. I wanted to text my ex the other day to tell him I was eating an amazing avocado. But did I? No! (Well, maybe . . . It was a really good avocado. Somebody had to know! I may not always practice what I preach, but please do as I say and not as I do. Just don't text him.)

3) Do your laundry. Wash your face. And for god's sake run a comb through that mane. Nobody wants to see that. Won't you feel better wearing clean clothes and looking like an actual WOMAN instead of some messy little child? And what if you bump into him? Did you ever think about that? Just pull it together, for everybody's sake. Sometimes you have to FAKE IT TILL YOU MAKE IT, and looking good on the outside might even make you feel a little better on the inside.

4) Schedule in some crying time. This sounds strange, I know, but it works. Chances are you will be emotionally unstable and on the verge of tears in the immediate aftermath, so by giving yourself some ALONE TIME to cry you are avoiding potential public disaster. (I find the morning shower is most suitable. You can get it all out then get on with your day.) Had I not skipped my shower cry yesterday morning, I most likely would not have flooded my nachos with tears when No Scrubs erupted through the speakers at the bar last night. (TLC is a sore spot. Don't ask.)

5) Indulge in a guilty pleasure (or three). Now is NOT the time for deprivation. Spoil yourself. He's not going to do it for you. I can't tell you how many Oreos I've eaten over the past week. (Well, I can. But I'm choosing to keep that number to myself.) If an Oreo makes me happy, then I'm going to HAVE AN EFFING OREO. And if ice cream makes me happy, then I'm going to have some ice cream. And if I want to watch the same episode of Seinfeld four times in a row, then I'm going to watch the same episode of Seinfeld four times in a row. And if I want to put three bath bombs in the tub, then . . . well, you get the point. Indulge. Distract. Smile.

There you have it. A break up survival guide from yours truly, a break up expert.

Within

Why is it that a break up makes me question absolutely everything in my life? I can't seem to say, "Well my relationship didn't work out, but at least I have a solid income and clear career goals!" Instead it seems to be more like, "Well my relationship didn't work out, my rent is more than I earn, and I don't know what I'm doing with my life." Just a week ago I had an amazing boyfriend, and although other parts of my life were, well, shaky - my hours at work were decreasing, I was frantically looking for an apartment after giving notice at my current one, and I was obsessively editing a grad school application - it felt more exciting than anything else. An opportunity to find a second job! A fresh start in a new apartment! An application to go back home to UBC! Oh the possibilities! And now, it all feels like a chore. The application became tedious and wearisome. The apartment hunt became stressful and tear-filled. And the job search became nonexistent. Why? Because I suddenly had to do it all on my own. And apparently I'm not so great at that. And therein lies the problem.

I tend to pick awesome boyfriends. And while this is great during the relationship, it makes for a difficult transition after. When you become accustomed to a boyfriend who is supportive, helpful, proactive, and encouraging, it can be a shock to the system to then realize that not only do you have to actually do stuff on your own, you have to find the motivation within yourself. And it's a shock to me that this realization shocks me . . . I've always thought of myself as a very independent, ambitious, self-sufficient person. But then the boyfriend is gone and I suddenly have to scour Craigslist alone - and I don't want to. This is not ok.

A relationship - a partnership - is an absolutely wonderful thing. To have someone you can depend on and who depends on you, to have someone who encourages and supports and sometimes even leads you, to have someone who builds you up and gives you your pep talks and reassures you - these are all beautiful things. But I feel that these are things we must earn by first being able to do them for ourselves. I don't know that I ever reached the point at which I fully found all these things within myself before allowing them to come from someone else. And that may be the reason why I have now had two relationships, with men I truly loved and believed would be around forever, fall apart. When you are constantly, even subconsciously, finding your inspiration and motivation from someone you love, you haven't given yourself what you need to love yourself. And that pressure on the relationship will come out in little ways, and make the whole thing crumble.

And so, I think I have finally settled on my abstract resolution for 2014 - to find the power I need within before I ever look to somebody else to give it to me. Because only when I can apply for a job without needing someone else to tell me how awesome I would be at it, and only when I can find a home on my own without needing someone else to assure me it suits me, and only when I can go on a trip, or go back to school, or do anything without needing someone else to tell me it's a great idea, will I be good at being on my own. And then I'll be good at being with somebody else.

Cheery Philosopher

Somebody woke up on the wrong side of the bed this morning.

That would be me.

Bad moods are the pits. Especially when they make no sense. Even a cheerful boyfriend serving me eggs and coffee this morning as I scowled at him from underneath a mane of bedhead could only crack my face into a smile for the short commute to work before I proceeded to brood at my desk about my purpose in life.

With my grad school application constantly on my mind for the past three months, but no time yet to actually put pen to paper, my stress level has reached that embarrassing point at which the smallest point of tension causes me to erupt into an irrational explosion of "What am I doing with my life?!"

BUT, the good news is that after only about an hour wasted by staring blankly at nothing in my little corner cubicle, I remembered this lovely blog and suddenly felt something close to inspiration and excitement. Writing has always made me feel grounded and helped me to find direction, and so as soon as I take the opportunity to put some coherent sentences out there into the world, I feel like I have a focused purpose again.

Not only that, but it cheers me up! I went from sulking about my bank account and questioning every plan I've ever made, to appreciating the little things that are worth writing – and thinking – about. Like the lunch date I have with my mom in an hour. And the work out I have scheduled for the morning. And the free Starbucks drink loaded up on my card. And the trip to Costa Rica happening in three weeks!

All the big things work out eventually and all the little annoying things don't really matter. And a good mood is simply so much easier than a grumpy one. ("The only one you're punishing is yourself," lectured the boyfriend, who has some sort of invisible shield that defends his chirpy mood from my early morning evil eye.) It's harder work to frown than smile!

Apparently writing goes one step beyond helping me prioritize my thoughts and turns me into a nauseatingly cheery philosopher (first one ever) so let's end this before it gets sickening. 

Happy Friday!

99 B-line

Throughout the summer I think I did quite a good job of shedding the student label and immersing myself in the work world. Not only did I stick with my two retail jobs, but also I started my internship. This allowed me to take the career girl mentality to a whole new level as I wore my adult dress pants and stationed myself at my little cubicle from 9 to 5 (allegedly) every day. But, as the September rain started to fall and the 99 B-line became increasingly stuffed with textbook-toting coffee-chugging UBCers on my commute every morning, I realized more and more that I belong with them. It feels a little strange to hop off the bus at Granville Street and make my way to an office building where I have to exchange pleasantries in the elevator and swap stories at the water cooler (actually . . .) rather than continuing down Broadway for another twenty minutes and falling out of the overflowing bus doors onto campus.

I always thought that I loved being a student because I love reading, writing, and learning. This is all true. But it's so much more than that! Being a student is a complete lifestyle, and it suits me much more than this one. I prefer to carry my coffee in a travel mug from home and wear my oversized sweaters and scarves to a cozy library where I can read in peace. Instead, I am currently sitting at a desk with a giant Starbucks beside me in shoes that hurt my feet and the constant buzz of activity around me, waiting on edge for the next dreaded pop-in (my boss has developed the uncomfortable habit of incessantly popping his head into my cubicle at whim). I prefer to spend my afternoons and evenings in Calhoun's writing and editing papers, surrounded by other wired students simultaneously loving and hating their lives. Instead, when I am finished work for the day, there's nothing I have to do! (True, the freedom to then do whatever I want is a refreshing change that is appreciated once in a while, but for the most part it just makes me feel listless and useless.) I prefer to organize my own time, making lists and plans of all the books I need to get through and tests I need to study for and checking things off as I go. Instead, I am given assignments at any given time that need to be completed immediately, resulting in an irrational cycle of having nothing to do (hence random 4pm blog post) and then suddenly having a whole lot to do. (Now!) My days are made up of mellow lulls followed by frantic panic, which surely can't be too healthy. (I prefer the healthy dose of constant and tense stress doled out alongside a full course load and a $600 textbook bill.)

That's not to say I'm not loving my internship. I learn a lot - about a lot of really random things. (For instance, today I did extensive research on safe injection sites, Lululemon, Chris Hadfield, Botox . . .you name it.) It's all very interesting and I do enjoy it. But I don't love the context. It's just not part of my personality to be satisfied by sitting still all day and working for somebody else. And that is why I am so excited to start working on my grad school application. This time next year, fingers crossed, I will get to stay on the 99 all the way, hunched in the humid corner with a pile of books and papers. In comfortable shoes. With cheap coffee.

A Quick Rant

As somebody who has always enjoyed writing and considered it to be a strength of mine, it has been extremely eye-opening to leave the academic writing world and enter the professional (somewhat) writing world. In school I wrote dozens and dozens of term papers, and received high marks for the most part. I would spend weeks writing outlines and constructing sentences and paragraphs that were exactly what I wanted them to be, and then would have them returned to me with a few scribbles in the margins, sometimes a much appreciated comment on the last page, and a big red letter that was, usually, the one I was hoping to see.

Nowadays, I don't get the indulgence of my comfy desk in my quiet home and a due date months in the future. I don't even get the luxury of writing in my own voice. Instead, I have a little cubicle in the midst of organized (to be generous) chaos, an assignment with a deadline that most often is in the next several hours, and the task of writing about something I don't know about in a voice that sounds like somebody else's.

The result? A lot of editing, and a transformation of the words I crafted into other words entirely. My editor gives me an assignment - more often than not it is about a topic I know absolutely zero about - and I research as quickly as I can before writing the exact number of words she requested. I give it to her, and wait to receive a new copy of it that is completely unrecognizable. Words crossed out, words added in, and sometimes no sign at all that the words I'm now reading have been rewritten in their entirety. Often, it's pretty diheartening to see that somebody else didn't love your work as much as you did. And to sit back down and rework a piece that you have reread to death already can be quite draining.

Thank goodness for my own little blog that allows me to toss my destroyed assignemnt to the side for ten minutes so that I can let my thoughts flow as they come, with nobody to then take this from me and make it sound like an ominous anonymous voice. I can write the first thing that comes to mind and just leave it there, knowing that nobody else can touch it. How refreshing!

But now, because that deadline really is looming, I have to get back to work. This quick rant makes that task seem a lot less daunting.

Having It All

I'm one of those people who gets nervous when things are going too well because I assume that something will have to go wrong soon to even things out. But for the past couple months I've been on a roll (knock on wood) and I'm starting to believe that maybe (just maybe) you really can have it all.

That's not to say that it all comes down to luck. You obviously have to work hard to play hard and great things don't just come to you without a little blood, sweat, tears, and good karma. The good news is that I don't mind working up a sweat and shedding a few tears if the pay off is what I have now. This summer I have managed to score my dream job and my dream guy and maintain my self-sufficiency and independence, while working three jobs but making time for a lot of fun and adventure. I've never been more exhausted, but I've never been happier or more satisfied.

My "dream job" (for now at least - it constantly changes and tends to be whatever is happening in the moment) is working at the editorial department at Vancouver Magazine. This internship is ideal in every way - who wouldn't want to talk to the greatest chefs in Vancouver, drink our best local wines, and get all the inside details on every event in this city, all while writing and editing? - besides the fact that it is more or less unpaid. Which means that it is totally worth doing, I just also have to do a lot more. So I fit about 30 hours per week of work at my two favourite stores around my full time position at the magazine in order to keep my cozy and colourful little apartment all to myself. Needless to say, my day planner is almost as packed as it was when I was a student (which is saying a lot).

I often work two shifts a day, and I can't even remember my last day off, yet this summer has consisted of  an endless number of runs on the Sea Wall, a countless number of drinks at my favourite Yaletown and Kits bars, and a continuous exploration of summer in Vancouver. From The Chief to Bard on the Beach, from the Night Market to the Sea Wheeze, from beach days to movie nights, from the Rush concert to the Fun. concert, from the fireworks nights to The Bachelorette nights, and from the Sunset Festival to movies in the park, this summer has somehow been filled with all the love, laughter, and fun I could have asked for, despite my 70 hour/week work schedule. I really have had it all. Especially because the play time is not nearly as worthwhile without the work time.

I think perhaps the biggest sacrifice I've made in the name of "having it all" is (besides sleep . . .) this blog! My poor little blog has been so abandoned! So I am making a vow to myself now that this becomes a priority on the list. It will be scheduled into my planner if that's what it takes. Writing is far too important to me to allow it to fall by the wayside. Once I've got that under control, I really will have it all: the most supportive family ever, the most wonderful friends in the world, the best boyfriend a girl could want, a home that is all mine, a job that I've dreamed of for years, constant laughter and adventure, and my own little blog that keeps me company on rainy and slow days at the office. Could you ever want anything more?

Knock on wood. (The cynicism isn't completely dead just yet.)

Doing Nothing Alone

My phone has picked up the annoying habit of spontaneously shutting off for no reason at all and refusing to turn back on again. When this happened in the middle of my lunch break yesterday as I was making plans for later that night, I had a minor panic attack resulting in a hurried trip over to the mall to track down a Telus store that would allow me to charge it up quickly. By the time the sales associate there grasped the concept that I did not want to purchase either a new charger, a new battery, or a new phone, my poor little guy only got about three and a half minutes in the "recharge center" before I had to rip him off life support and run back to work. This meant, unfortunately, that he didn't make it, leaving me disconnected from the world for the rest of the afternoon.

Of course, my initial plan was that I would rush straight home after work to get my phone plugged in and charged up so that I could commence communication with those people who had been so rudely interrupted and subsequently ignored due to my phone's malfunctioning. But over the course of an afternoon in which I did not find myself repeatedly grasping for my phone, giving and receiving constant updates, I started to feel a little more relaxed about being disconnected.. And I had a brilliant thought. What if my day didn't revolve around texts and plans and expectations? What if I just gave my phone a little time off, and did whatever I wanted to do, all alone? The sun outside added to the appeal of this novel idea, and so I decided that I would not, in fact, sprint home the second I got off work, but instead would wander aimlessly and easily wherever I felt like going.

Me being me, I happened to have a book, a Starbucks card, and a PB&J sandwich in my purse, and that's all I really need for a date with myself. I spent the evening downtown, wandering in and out of stores, reading and tanning at a park on the water, and exploring the city I've always loved but am still getting to know. I didn't talk to anybody; I never even checked the time. And I noticed on my way home after several hours on my own that not only was I meandering at half the speed I normally walk at, but also I had been standing at an intersection for about five minutes and had never pressed the button that I usually incessantly push in my frantic hurry to get to wherever I'm going.

Alone time doing nothing (without a phone!) left me relaxed and gave me time to think through those thoughts that everyday life blocks out. It forced me to enjoy my own company and to make myself happy. It de-cluttered a brain that is often overflowing with lists and plans, allowing me to focus purely on the present moment. It was a much needed break from a hectic life that is often concerned with balancing schedules and accommodating others. Alone time doing nothing made me focus on myself, right now, which is something I rarely do, but is something that is very necessary.

But, it was able to be so positive because, even though I was alone, I never felt lonely. I knew that once my phone sputtered back to life I'd be thrown back in the midst of family and friends who, although they may keep me glued to my screen a lot of the time, they also keep my life full and happy. So, even though I enjoyed my afternoon date with myself, doing nothing alone, I think I may start carrying my phone charger in my purse. Because a date like that will need to be scheduled in next time; I don't know if I've grown enough to be able to handle another impromptu phone coma quite yet.

The Real World

I've had an addiction to the MTV "reality" show The Real World for the past five years or so. I watch every new season, and I've even spent some time perusing the first few seasons online.. The show started out twenty years ago as an attempt to actually portray the real world by putting six or seven twenty-somethings from all different walks of life in a house together so that the gay man with AIDS can become friends with the struggling cartoonist and the sorority girl (The Real World San Francisco, circa 1993 - my favourite season). The show has developed over the years, changing from portraying the work and relationships of smart, unique, and entertaining young adults to exposing the drama and horror of dumb and hot, but just as entertaining, individuals. Nevertheless, the show has remained a constant guilty pleasure in my life. There's something about the illusion of reality that makes disgusting television feel less pathetic.

When I was in school, The Real World was a weekly hour-long study break during which I could feel my mind melting and shutting down as I watched drunken catfights between half-dressed crazies unfold before my glazed over eyes. It was a welcome relief to embrace the mindlessness of ultimate stupidity. Now that I am no longer a full time student, the hour I spent every week for the past two months watching The Real World Portland can't be justified so easily. Not only is the necessity of sixty solid minutes of not thinking slowly fading, but also my entrance into the real world makes the act of watching The Real World all the more disheartening.

Everybody always warns that the real world isn't as magical as imagined by us youngsters, but that doesn't stop most people from jumping at it as soon as possible. I was never like that; I was never itching to be done with school so that I could take on the responsibilities of an adult. I was genuinely satisfied with the trials and tribulations of student life, and even though I definitely had more than my fair share of stressful moments, I always knew that I was lucky to be a student in the first place and I was content right where I was. I was pulled and pushed into the real world against my will, but now that I'm here I'm finding myself to be quite content once again.

My real world now consists of balancing two jobs and enduring that annoying ache at the back of your mind labelled "financial stress" that never really goes away. And it involves having to deal with all the little day to day things by myself when they would be a much smaller deal if endured alongside a parent or partner. But it is also defined by independence, freedom, and adventure. I have a home that is only mine, I have easy jobs that are fun and that I actually enjoy going to, and I am busy purely because I want to be. I have had many moments of daunting loneliness and uncertainty, but ultimately, I have yet to discover the horrors of the real world that were supposedly awaiting me. I go to work to pay my bills, and other than that I do whatever I want to do.

Now when people ask me what I am, I can't tell them I'm a student anymore. So my answer has become "a recent graduate who is going back to school asap" because, as much as I'm enjoying the real world, I can't do this forever. I am a perpetual student, and am itching to crawl back to the pale-faced, sleep-deprived, red-eyed world of reading and writing all day every day. The real world is a fun place to be for now, but I think I am much better suited as a student who emerges from her textbooks every so often to enjoy being a spectator of The Real World.

For now though, I have another year and two months of the real world spread out before me, and the only thing to do is run at it full on, grasping those moments not taken up by lectures and libraries, and making my world as exciting as it can be. It's time to live in the moment and do whatever I want. I may have to put The Real World on hold for a bit, but it will be there waiting for me when I return to my true self.

Running

I love to run!

My love of running has developed slowly but surely over the past several years. I first learned that I could run when I was in grade eight. For PE we all had to run six laps of the track, and having never run more than about two laps before - due to my insistence that, if anything, I was a sprinter (which most definitely was not the case) - I had no idea what was going to happen. I ended up finishing second in my class, after a girl whose legs were the length of my body, and suddenly I was a 'long-distance runner'. (Nevermind the fact that 2.4 kilometers hardly qualifies as 'long-distance'.) Due to the unfortunate coincidence that my PE teacher at the time was also my track coach, I spent the rest of high school running cross-country races in the Fall and 800, 1500, and 3000 meter races at track events in the Spring. I did a decent job, but I hated it, and preferred to put my time and energy into school and dance. It didn't help that I was forced against my will - even in those seasons when I refused to go to practices, the coach still insisted that I go to the meets. I would never run on my own time either, but then would find myself lined up at a start line amidst a bunch of other fourteen year old girls in their weird track cleats and intricate braids. I was not happy. So high school was the start of my relationship with running - but it was a rocky start. I was starting to get to know it, but really didn't like it.

In university, I had to start working out of my own accord. There were no more dance classes, field hockey practices, or soccer games to keep me in shape by accident, and I needed to stay active. The gym was good for some things, but what I really wanted was to be outside. And so I started running voluntarily. I had no idea how fast or how far I was running, but I'd work up a sweat and feel good about myself. I still found running to be pretty boring, but at least it had a purpose for me this time. It was keeping me in shape. So running developed from something I despised to something I found useful. It kept my legs toned and my cardio in check, and I got some fresh air and sun along the way. I still didn't love running, but I was beginning to value it.

Last year, I decided I wanted to run a half-marathon. That goal came out of the blue, driven by my competitive spirit when a few girls I knew told me that they would be running the 21.1 kilometers around Vancouver in August. I signed up completely on a whim, and drew up my own sad little training plan based around my LSAT study guide. I spent all of April-July alternating between LSAT practice questions and long runs up and down hills in the summer sun. Training for that half marathon was an interesting revolution in my relationship with running. Unlike high school, I'd chosen voluntarily to run a race. And unlike the previous couple years, the goal wasn't to simply stay in shape and get a work out. However, I still wasn't really loving running. I was doing this to compete, pure and simple. But I wasn't even doing it for myself, I was doing it for my boyfriend. I didn't want to, or need to, show off to him, but I wanted to show off for him. I was always bragging about him to my family and friends and I wanted him to have something to be proud of me for. I thought that maybe running could be that thing. I ended up running a pretty good race considering my complete lack of experience, and  it worked: we were both proud of me. Yet my relationship with running remained stagnant. It had served its purpose, but I didn't love it.

Despite my cry when I crossed the finish line - "I am never doing that again!" - I almost immediately registered for two more half marathons for the following summer. The sense of accomplishment that overcomes your body and mind when you've pushed yourself to your limits is something that needs to be felt again once you've experienced it once. I ran regularly throughout the Fall and Winter, but didn't take it too seriously until the upcoming race was a couple months away. This time frame just happened to coincide with my life falling to pieces, and suddenly my relationship with running reached a new height. Running was one of my best friends when I was all of a sudden alone and confused and overwhelmed. To be able to go outside and run anywhere, being totally alone and allowing my mind to either think or not think as my body exhausts itself, is completely amazing, and helped me through many rough days. I was falling in love with running.

My first half marathon of the year was a couple weeks ago, and that was a big day for me. I thought I was ready to run the race, but in the day leading up to the run I was depressed. Last year, I ran it for my boyfriend, who cooked me dinner the night before and got up early to drive me to the start line, and who ran almost as much as I did that day so that he'd be able to cheer me on along the way, because I wanted him to be proud of me. Now, I was standing at the start line, alone in a crowd of 10,000 people, with nobody to run this race for. Just like the year before, my family was waiting along the route with signs and cheers to keep me going, but I still felt lost, because my purpose for running was gone. I didn't want to do it, and I must have looked pretty dejected because people I didn't know were patting me on the back and telling me, "Don't worry! You'll finish!" I wasn't worried if I could finish the run or not, I was confused. Why was I doing this?

It wasn't until about ten seconds before the race began that I finally realized I was going to have to do this for myself. I was going to run because I want to, and I enjoy it, and I can do it on my own. So that's what I did. It wasn't a pretty run - I hurt my knee after about only four kilometers and spent the rest of the race nauseous and limping - but it was still amazing. Not only did I not stop, but I actually finished faster than I did last time. I proved to myself that I can do these things on my own, and, just as importantly, I fell in love with running for the sake of running. Not as a work out, and not as a competition, but as something that I enjoy purely for the feelings it gives me.

Now, I love running. We have a great relationship. I don't run simply because it keeps me in shape. And I don't run just because I can compete. I run because it is what I love to do. It calms me down when I'm upset. It gives me energy when I'm tired. It releases tension and stress, and emphasizes excitement and purpose. It allows me to clear my head and organize my thoughts, to make plans, to let my mind wander. It keeps me company. It lets me be alone. Most of all, I love running because it is through running that I learned how much I am capable of, all on my own.

Happy Things

With my new routine (or lack thereof) that has taken hold over the past couple weeks, I've noticed that the days tend to blend together. I find myself thinking that Thursday is Tuesday and the weekend was both yesterday and tomorrow, because there's no class schedule with which I can differentiate Monday from Friday and everything in between and beyond. Because I write absolutely everything down on a calendar (yes - a piece of paper with a calendar drawn on it) that I carry around with me, I do still end up making it to all my events, appointments, and shifts. The concern isn't so much about remembering where to go, but more about creating memories to hold on to. When I can't tell myself that on Wednesday I went to two English classes then met a friend for lunch on my way to work (as I used to do every Wednesday), I find that I completely draw a blank on what Wednesday held for me, and it takes me several seconds to conjure up a memory of a day that was unstructured and out of the ordinary (as all my days are now).

My friend and I were browsing the adorable little knick-knack shops of Granville Island this afternoon, and in a stationary store we found a journal that we both loved. The front said "One Line a Day" and the inside had a space to write down one line a day for five years, with the idea that this line would sum up the best part of that day and would be a memory jog for years to come. We both thought this was a brilliant idea (we just didn't think that the price tag of $18.95 for a bunch of lined paper between two pieces of cardboard was so brilliant).

I was thinking about that little journal long after we dropped it like a hot potato and ran, and realizing that it could be the perfect solution to my current problem. Except, I want to take it up a notch. Instead of just writing one line, I'm going to write a list at the end of every day of all the good things that happened to me in the past twenty four hours. It's my little twist on a combination of "One Line a Day" and Oprah's Gratitude Journal. It can be big things or small things, and the list will definitely be longer some days than others. My one rule for myself, though, is that I'm not going to sit there thinking about it - I'm just going to jot down a quick list of all the things that have made me happy today. I feel like this will do great things for me.

So let's start right now.

What made me happy today?
1) I spent the morning replying to emails from past professors who not only want to write me reference letters for grad school but also actually asked if they could help me with my entire application to ensure I get accepted. This made me grateful because I went to such a great university, with an amazing English department that has professors who go above and beyond.
2) My friend and I spent the afternoon walking along Kits Beach to Granville Island, where we meandered aimlessly for hours before walking up to South Granville where we browsed in one of my favourite places - Chapters. This made me grateful for so many things: a wonderful friendship, an absolutely incredible city to call home, and beautiful Spring weather.
3) I started redecorating my apartment! (Sidenote - As my apartment has emptied out over the past week or so, I've become increasingly anxious. When we first moved in here, we did a massive bulk shop at Ikea, and the place was filled with all of the essentials in one day. That is just not feasible for me this time around, which made me very uneasy, until my mom pointed out to me that accumulating items one at a time is much more rewarding and satisfying than all at once. This way, I only buy pieces that I really love and that are great deals. So, today I bought a gorgeous lamp that I absolutely love, and it was on sale! Sure, I still don't have a bed...but I have a lamp that was 50% off and has tassels wrapped around the stand and a beautiful bronze shade, and that makes both me and my wallet smile.) This made me grateful for a fresh start in which I can do things for myself and by myself.
4) I went out with my mom and my sister for dinner, and we enjoyed a girls night with Mexican food and margaritas. This made me grateful for family, girl time, salsa, and tequila.

Well I can tell you all first-hand, right off the bat, that this little exercise definitely plasters on a smile and makes an awesome day one that won't easily be forgotten. Try it!

Routine

With the end of the semester comes a complete loss of routine. Add to the fact that the past month and a half not only brought me to the end of my four year university career but also carried me from living with my boyfriend to living on my own, and the change in my daily rituals becomes increasingly dramatic. My weekdays used to go a little something like the following: get up to say good bye to the boyfriend before he goes to work, go back to bed for half an hour, get up at 8:00 so I can watch Rachel Ray while eating breakfast and cleaning the kitchen, head off to two or three classes, go to work, meet the boyfriend at home, go for a work out together, come home and make dinner, watch The Sopranos, then bed. It was a pretty solid routine that had minor variations thrown in throughout the week. And I was very comfortable with it.

For the past couple weeks, my weekdays have been going a little something like this: roll off the couch (currently my bed) at whatever time the sun happens to peek through the curtains, put on a pot of coffee, forget about the coffee for over an hour as I lie back down in my makeshift bed to reply to emails and dreamily browse the Ikea website, remember the coffee and finally get up to make breakfast, eventually make it out of the house for a run, go shower before meeting a friend for a coffee date or a walk, find some lunch once I realize I'm hungry, go to work at whatever random time I've been scheduled for that day, come home and make dinner while I watch The New Adventures of Old Christine on my laptop (currently my TV), find some cheap way for my friends and I to amuse ourselves, then bed.

It's not a very solid routine. I wake up at a different time every morning and go to bed at a different time every night. My work shifts are all over the place. My running routine is inconsistent. Everything is a mess! Without any classes to schedule my day around, everything falls apart. And with nobody at home to keep me on track with eating breakfast at breakfast time and so on, my days are very unstructured. I've never not been a student before! And I've never lived completely alone before! This is way too much freedom for my liking.

There is something to be said for a flexible schedule, but I think there is much more to be said for a routine. That's just my personality - I become a little unhinged when I realize it's 9:00am and I have not yet downed my two cups of coffee and moved on to my first of eight bottles of water for the day. (Okay, maybe that's a little more obsessive than merely valuing a routine. But that's an issue to be explored another day.) Basically, I can only take so many days of this freedom. It's time for a routine again! And I figure the first of the month is the perfect time to get back into the swing of things. It will be a completely different type of routine than I've ever had before - no classes, no study time, no working around my boyfriend's work schedule or training schedule. But that's okay! It's time for a totally new routine. One that is based completely on me, myself, and I.

Tired

Well it's 1:00 in the morning and I feel exhausted from staying up late last night and then getting up early this morning to study for MY LAST EVER FINAL, and I want to go to bed, but I feel like this day would not be complete without a blog post.

Usually, I have some idea of what I'm going to say. Most often I don't know where my posts are going to end up, but I at least always know where they are going to start. That's not the case here. So I guess I'll just write something . . .

This month has been a wild ride. It's been full of mistakes, revelations, regrets, confessions, renewals, epiphanies, and promises. It's been full of moments of complete confusion and moments of complete contentment. It's been full of tears and full of smiles. It's been full of stress, sadness, guilt, hope, happiness, surprise, and love. This month has definitely been a transition month, taking me from low to high to low to high as it's carried me from overwhelmed and unsure to confident and stable. It has truly been a month of finding myself. It's been full of changing and growing and learning. And after all of it, I am ready for a fresh start.

And what better time for a fresh start? April is changing to May and Winter is changing to Spring. I just completed the last exam of my degree, and am now finally graduating! I'm moving to my own place once and for all. For the foreseeable future, I have the freedom to do whatever I want to do, and I'm pretty excited about it. The opportunity for a clean break and a fresh start doesn't come around all that often, and maybe I didn't ask for it, but I am definitely savoring it. Anything can happen now, and I'm ready to take it on.

I wish I could offer insightful reflections on these random ideas floating through my head, but my brain is fried. I guess a long day of work after an intense exam, following a grueling exam period, following the most emotionally unstable month of my life, following a demanding semester, which lies at the end of four years of constant thinking and working, can build up to quite the level of exhaustion. I'm going to go sleep, without setting an alarm for the morning (!), and maybe soon I'll be able to string a suitable sentence together.

For now, I leave you with this thought stolen from my grandma's wisdom: If you have faith in yourself, your life will always head in the direction it is meant to go. Nobody knows their destiny, so all you can do is live in the present, making the smartest choices possible and doing your best in that moment. If you do that, your life will undoubtedly unfold in whatever way will result in your greatest happiness.

(This all ties together somehow, I'm just not quite sure how right now.)

The End is Near

On the eve of my last day of classes as an undergraduate at UBC, I should be editing the term paper I have due tomorrow while gearing up for Block Party (the end of year bbq/beer garden/outdoor concert taking place tomorrow that is always a weird mixture of going all out to celebrate the last day of class while subconsciously knowing that the next morning cannot be too rough as it brings the start of a solid two and a half weeks of studying for exams). Instead, I find myself cuddled on my couch with a blanket, a G&T, and Friends playing in the background as I compose yet another blog post.

It is a strange feeling to know that tomorrow is my last day of classes. For the past four years, I have spent five days a week on campus, walking from one Buchanan room to the next where I listen to the experts who I have revered spewing all sorts of information at me as I furiously scribble notes in an effort to remember their words forever. I am not one of those students who was always dying to be done with school and is having a panic attack now that the end is near and I've realized I'll actually have to start working full time. I am one of those students who has enjoyed school from the beginning because I love learning for the sake of learning. I have genuinely appreciated every moment I've had in the classroom, and have even been grateful for those moments spent outside of the classroom, in the library and at home, toiling over papers and sweating through studying. As somebody who has studied the importance of education, and who has even travelled to places far away to witness the consequences of a lack of education first hand, I know that it is something that should never be taken for granted, and I have always been thankful for the education I've been able to receive. I have loved every minute of it, and don't really want it to end . . .

However, I think that graduating will be a great opportunity to start experiencing new ways of learning. Education doesn't always need to happen in a classroom. Work and travel can bring similar rewards. Now that UBC is forcing me out, I can take the opportunity to go learn in a variety of different avenues, and start checking some things off my bucket list. I'll miss being a student, but the absence of a label brings the freedom to be anything and go anywhere. And all the skills I learned at university will benefit me in whatever I do.

A lot of people ask me what I learned in the past four years. Sometimes this is a polite question. (So what's your favourite thing that you learned at UBC?) Sometimes this is a skeptical question. (Did you even learn anything useful at UBC?) Sometimes this is a curious question. (So what exactly did you learn at UBC?) The question always seems to be looking for a specific answer, like "I learned how responsibilities are divided between the federal and provincial governments" or "I learned how Margaret Thatcher influenced British literature in the 1980s" or "I learned the intricacies of the nuclear disarmament debate" or "I learned how to write a fifteen page research paper in three days" or "I learned the meaning of life." It's true that I did learn all these things (except maybe that last one) and so much more. But that's not what I value about my time at UBC. When people ask me any one of those questions, I tell them that I learned how to think.

The university setting is an interesting one, because you are being handed loads of information that you are forced to process, memorize, and understand, yet also criticize. Every opinion, every side to the argument, is always explored and torn apart. It is so interesting to constantly be thinking with an open and accepting mind, assuming that every answer could be the right answer, while simultaneously finding every weakness of that point and ripping it to shreds. Thinking with both an open and a critical mind is something that has to be learned. It isn't natural to want to see the best and worst of every side to the debate, and it takes time and practice to recognize that no issue is black and white, but that every argument is valid in its own right. You can pick a side, but you have to acknowledge that there will always be somebody on the opposing side, and they think you are just as wrong as you think they are. My past four years of school demonstrated to me that when it comes to thinking, I have to be both accepting yet critical of every claim, even my own, and that is what I am taking away from my university experience. It will, I hope, benefit every aspect of my life.

I have loved my time at UBC and I expect that knowing how to think productively will empower me in endeavors outside of the classroom. However, I can't get too far ahead of myself yet. I still have two classes, two papers, four exams, and one graduation ceremony to get through. Here we go . . .

Changes

It's pretty weird to write about this, but as this blog is supposed to be about finding your true self in your twenties it would be almost dishonest to leave out the big change going on in my life right now. So here goes.

My boyfriend and I were together for over two years. And we moved in together a few months ago. And we broke up this week.

I won't go into the details of our relationship or our break up. All the things that matter are obviously personal and special to both he and I, and don't need to be shared with everybody. What I want to write about is the transition from being in a committed relationship with the love of my life to being single and independent.

What I will say is that we have the good fortune of ending things on very good terms. While the moment of decision was not necessarily mutual, we both know in our hearts that this is the right thing to do, and we will support each other along the way. That doesn't make it any easier though. It is extremely hard to now be living in the home that we made together all by myself. It's so difficult to not talk to him about every thought and feeling I'm experiencing. And it's next to impossible to try to look to the future and move on, knowing that I simply met my soul mate at the wrong time.

When I was nineteen, I loved being single. I was going out all the time and dating a lot of guys, and I'd just stopped seeing someone I really liked because it felt like it was starting to get serious. I loved being independent and free. I could appreciate that I was young and should live in the moment, but I also had so many plans. One reason I was so adamant about not getting serious with anybody was because I was about to move to England for six months. But then a few weeks before I left I met the man who would become my boyfriend for the next couple years. In hindsight, the problems in our relationship trace back to that unlucky timing. I fell in love with him, but that doesn't mean I grew up and instantly became girlfriend material.

Of course, the majority of our relationship was fun and happy and positive. But when problems did arise, we always seemed to come back to this point about timing. I was not ready for a relationship when I met him, yet could not seem to say no to him like I'd been able to do with other guys because of the simple fact that I did love him. This tension and confusion built up inside me, and seemed to come out in horrible ways sometimes. If only we'd met a couple years later, when I'd decided for myself that I was ready for a boyfriend before we met, then maybe I would have fit the relationship mould a little better. I do not believe that I loved the wrong person, I just believe that it happened at the wrong time. And it's hard to get over that.

Now I am finding myself back where I was at the age of nineteen, just halfway through university. Except I'm 21. And I'm graduating. Wouldn't it have been perfect if I'd spent the past two years living the single student life, and been ready for a relationship now, as the rest of my life is beginning? Too bad you can't go back in time.

One positive spin that a lot of my friends and family have been presenting to me is the fact that my life would be changing right now anyway. In a few weeks I will be done with school, and I already didn't know where I would be working or what I would be doing. Now I can just add that I also don't know where I'll be living or who I'll be doing this with... In moments of sadness and regret, this thought brings all-consuming loneliness, but in moments of optimism, it brings feelings of liberation. For the first time in a while, I can legitimately make it all about me. I can be selfish without hurting anybody in the process. I can potentially go anywhere and do anything. Uncertainty can be terrifying, but it can also be freeing.

It's a stretch to say that that idea excites me already. Right now, the focus is on getting used to being by myself in the day to day. It's hard to say good bye to somebody who shared your life so completely. But at least I have that glimmer of possibility now. I can slowly start to grab hold of the adventurous ambition that used to define me, and do whatever it is that I want to do. Up until a couple weeks ago, I thought my twenties would consist of starting a career and a family. But maybe my twenties will be all about carefree spontaneity. Maybe I'll revert back to that impulsive nineteen year old and finally complete that stage of my life. OR maybe I'll learn that a serious relationship actually is what I really want. Either way, it's all about finding your true self - learning who you are and what you want. I guess we'll have to wait and see what happens.