It's simple.

It often seems to me like the simpler I want something to be, the more complicated it is.

If I want a simple black dress, I find purple, green and yellow dresses adorned in lace, ribbons, and bows.
If I just want to drive to Tim Horton's and get a coffee I get into an accident wherein my car gets totaled.
If I seek a friend, I find a lover.
If I find a lover, I needed a friend.

Does simplicity exist?

Perhaps the notion of simplicity is really a perfectly orchestrated trick of the senses.

Perhaps it is just the idea of simplicity that wets the appetite long enough to keep us interested so that when we think we've found it, we revel in it, to us it is sublime...
                                                                                                       ...until some bird shits all over it.

Totalled

The accident happened on Tuesday.
Yes, I am fine.
My neck is sore and shoulder is stiff but I am lucky, very lucky.

Now, I am one lucky girl in need of another car.

wind

 When I woke in the middle of the night, last night I listened to the wind howl until I wondered if it was outside or if that passionate woosh was in my head. I'm at an impass. In my present life, there are decisions to be made. There is action to be taken. But there I sit listening to the wind.

Falling in love is easy...getting back out is torture.

Alone does not necessarily mean lonely...

When he walks into a room all the oxygen leaves. I am gasping for air. Stomach clenches, the room seems to hush, his every step, every movement carries some undefined importance, and even after he has left every fiber of my being is acutely aware that he was there. All thoughts so clear and present just seconds before evaporate and I am left with just that knowledge: He was there.

In that quiet where nothing else matters, I try to remind myself of why he is no longer part of my life, of why it didn’t work, of why I am alone. I ask myself: Am I not happier now? I now have everything I wanted ---don’t I? My craft, my independence, freedom. 

In many ways I am more content with these things, and would most certainly regret not having them even though I do not always know how to use them intelligently. Does that mean I am not allowed to miss what might have been? I am a free woman! I can do anything I want!

His presence in my life has left a mark, a gap a chasm but there are many things I am meant to do none of which would be possible with such a presence as his, so defined, so all encompassing, so distracting, in my life.

Alone does not necessarily mean lonely… but sometimes it does.

Random thought on old ladies pushing shopping carts...

Why do old ladies in malls always seem to be pushing shopping carts full of toilet paper and kleenex? If Canada were invaded tomorow by alien forces, personnally I would sooner know that I had food and medecine, what's the obsession with TP?

Little chanllenges

The roads have been worse than they were today but they were still pretty messy. I must have beet the plow trucks to the highway because the passing lane was snow packed and dangerous to use. I was, however, fortunate enough to be able to go almost the 110km/h speed limit for most of the trip there.

By the time I made it the hundred-or-so-kilometre-commute to College, it seemed the storm was essentially over but my fellow classmates informed me that class was done for the day.

I am not going to lie: I wish I had known this key piece of information before I had set out.  I just braved crappy roads for nothing. My time could have been used much more effectively, had I just stayed home.

Could have been but would it have been? Hard to say, my efforts can often be inconsistent.

Battling the Procrastination Demon seems to be my life's work.

It's as though I would prefer to face failure due to lack of effort than failure due to... well due to just not being good enough. Does that make any sense?

Ridiculous really. You could almost say I fear success as opposed to failure, as if success would challenge my whole self image, would puff itself up in condescention and inform me that I am not who I thought I was. 

The trip back home went much slower than the one to school. As I soon realized, the storm was most definitely not over. My visibility was minimized by the ginormous transport stirring up and spitting snow back at me. The white-beige stuff smeared my windshield with blurry moisture and forced me to sit forward in that up-tight way that short women often drive. I rarely cracked 100 km/h.

Once back in my hometown, I headed strait for the bookstore and purchased the most recent issue of Canadian Writer's Market and sat with a coffee to compose this blog so the day has not been a total loss.

Here's to more days with less loss more confidence to persevere.