For quite some time now, I'm talking years, I have been denying myself the emotional reality of my grandma's Alzheimer's. In my mind I keep reverting the image of her back to when she was living in Sandy Cove, lively, sassy, always down for a good long walk. She loved her walks. For years now she has been living with this disease, and for years now she has not known who I am, who anyone in our family is. Instead of feeling sad over this fact it has been easier to look at it comically. When you can't cry about a situation what else do you do? You laugh.
What is making me confront the emotional impact now? Well a few days ago she fell and broker her wrist and hip and had to go through surgery. Instantly I thought, ok what is the likelihood that an 88 year old woman who is skin and bones will survive this? And then immediately after I thought, well this is my grandma we're talking about, and through all odds she keeps on breathing. The running joke is that she is going to out live us all. Low and behold, she made it through surgery. However, she is still in recovery and a lot can still go wrong post surgery.
I was her favourite granddaughter. I know grandma's are not supposed to say such a thing, but she did. She was different in that way. Didn't really like children, and since I was the oldest of my sisters and when I was young I was very mature (much more mature than I am now), so we were close. She always made me feel more like an adult when I would visit alone without my sister(s) -- looking back now it was probably more so the fact that she didn't care to cater to child-like ways of passing time with kids, but it was glorious for me as a young girl. I remember I must have been 10 or so years old and she lent me The Hobbit to read before bed, as though I had the mental capacity to read and understand it. Yes, she would let me be while she did her own thing, doing the crossword puzzle in her tv guide with her blue pens that had pen erasers on them (I thought that was too cool!). I would wander around her bedroom, carefully picking up her perfumes and smelling them. Looking at her porcelain figurines and sometimes playing with them quietly. Sometimes she would let me look through her photo albums with her. I was always fascinated by photo albums and old photographs and relished in hearing the stories behind them. I had/have an obsession for things that have passed, a nostalgic yearning for everything that has already come and gone.
One time she let me wear her robe and she played some music so I could dance. The song "I Will Survive" came on and she danced and sang it with me. It's really funny to think about that now, I don't think many of my family members could imagine her doing that. I know that a lot of them, especially like my mom and aunt who remember her as a mother growing up, see her very differently than I do..did. I have a much more idealized image of my grandma in my memory. They remember a woman who was void of empathy, who was maybe a little too blunt with little surface emotion. I can definitely understand that, it is not too far fetched, but my relationship with her was so different to me than that. In fact during those kind of moments where she was like that with me and my sisters, I thought she was just being hilarious.
One time she took my sister Elyse and I swimming in her community pool and Elyse starting, well, practically drowning. Instead of freaking out or getting into the pool to help my little sister who was just a child at the time, my grandma just stands there saying "what are you doing? stop that" ..She would get embarrassed so easily, truly a product of her time. Another instance is when she was babysitting all three of us at our house, there was a black out and my baby sis Lyndsay was so scared. We had lit candles all over the living room, but Lyndz left and went to ask my grandma if she could sleep with her. I could hear my grandma upstairs saying "oh, no, no you'll be fine". Something along those lines anyhow. Elyse and I were a little bit older and we looked at each other and just started laughing. What a strange woman. I guess you could say that was cold, but it was amusing to us!
We went on a family holiday to Myrtle Beach once and went to a pizza place called "California Pizza". I guess the food was taking a little long, so my grandma picked up her fork and knife, one in each hand, and started banging them on the table saying "we want food, we want food" and then "What, did they have to go all the way to California, dropped the pizza half way back, and go back to California, to get our food!?"... hands down one of the greatest memories of her. God, she made me laugh without even trying.
When us three would go over to her house in Sandy Cove, she would always have chocolate milk for us. Sometimes she would put on old home made videos which didn't even have any sound, just music to play with the footage. Just like with the photo albums, I went crazy over these videos. Getting to see my mom, aunts and uncle in their childhood days, seeing their dad, seeing my grandma young. They were so cool to watch and I remember wishing I was there in those videos. I thought it was so neat actually getting a visual of some of my families memories and seeing the places that were talked about, like the cottage, in the past tense.
Her movie choices were very limited for children, so the one option we had was "Beaches", which if you have ever watched Beaches, it is NOT a children's film. That was our first encounter with the movie ....and we fell in love. It was almost tradition to watch it every time we went over, which was a lot! To this day I am still not sick of it. On my one birthday... geeze I must've been turning like 12 or 13, I had a sleepover and all I wanted was to show my friends this movie... and they refused to shut up. Man, I was so pissed cause it meant so much to me, but it bore them to death. It's totally understandable to me now, what person at that age actually likes that kind of movie? Well the Ayliffe girls did.
My grandma really liked the mall too. Loved shopping. Whenever my older cousin would visit I would get so excited cause I knew that meant sleeping over at my grandmas and going to the mall and the movies. It was so cool to spend time with my teenage cousin who I looked up to and learned about teenage things. I would try to mimic her walk, buy the same clothes, lied about listening to the same music and watching the same movies cause I wasn't allowed or was too poorly informed about such things being the oldest and having no one to really show me the way in that world. All our bonding moments were thanks to my grandma's place.
For birthdays and holidays we'd have roast beef dinners at her place with yorkshire pudding and her infamous chocolate cake with butter icing (which we still have at such occasions). She had these little porcelain houses the held different spices in them in her kitchen. My sisters and I would debate over which house we wanted to live in correlated to the aesthetic of the actual house and the coolest/prettiest spice name.
There would be rare moments when my grandma would share a glimpse of her earlier life with us. My favourite is about her and my grandpa who died before I was born. She was working at a store and he would come in and ask her out and she would reject him. He'd wait for her until she finished her shift and then follow her on the bus ride home. Apparently he did this so much that finally just to get rid of him she gave him her number. Since then they talked on the phone every day and went to the dance on Saturday night (cause on Friday nights the dance was held for singles). After six weeks of knowing each other, they decided to elope. They left, got married, and then returned home to their separate houses and kept their marriage a secret until they had enough money to move out. .....I just thought that was so romantic.
I would just sit sometimes and envision this. My aunt has a photo of my grandma and grandpa when they were young..separate photos. My grandma looked like an old Hollywood starlet. So beautiful, i thought she looked like an actress in the vintage photo. And my grandpa was handsome too. I think my mom and aunt and others think that maybe they weren't so happy or in love or something... and I don't know why I just think he must've adored her to chase her the way he did... like she was still her sassy self but he thought it was humorous, maybe even loved her for her it. When I watch the home videos that's what I see anyway, that he just sort of understood that part about her, the blunt facade or wall that she had and how much she cared about what people thought about her and her family, as something amusing and adorable. Hey, what do I know about it really though. Well I do know that after her surgery a couple days ago she shouted out his name, the nurses asked my mom or aunt or both "Who is John? cause she shouted out his name". A woman who can't form a sentence and has no recollection of anyone or anything, and she shouts out her husbands name after surgery. I'm thinking he was there, and is waiting for her.
I never knew the guy, but its just the sense I get. I have always felt a sort of connection to him, as well as my other grandpa I never met either. My aunt gave me this gorgeous ring when I was ...13? Anyway her dad gave it to her, and I remember thinking... wow... this is so special. And after she left the room I just looked at it and really thought about him and sensed his vibe. It was very special. I lost it twice. One time I just had no idea where it went to. I was devastated. Then it showed up on Elyse's bedroom floor one day while the cleaning lady was vacuuming. .....then the final time, I was in Hilton Head and a little tipsy, ran into the ocean with it on. I remember it so vividly. I FELT it slip off my finger and I reached out for it...and it was gone. I cried like a little baby on the beach for a very long, long time. I am still so sad I lost it. The only thing I am pleased about is that, if I had to lose it, the ocean is the place I would choose. So many lost treasures in there, and maybe it washed up on shore and some little girl found it and thought it was special too.
I am wearing her, my grandma's, engagement ring now. It reminds me of him too though cause, well, he got it for her. When I look at it, or play with it around my finger, I try to imagine some moments of when she was younger and wearing it and maybe playing with it. I try to imagine what it would have been like having a husband get cancer and die on you, especially when you are not the emotional type. What it would be like to live alone after having a family of a husband and 4 kids. How she put up a front that to her kids appeared cold a lot of the times. I like to imagine that in reality she felt a great deal more than she let on in all aspects of her life. ...I also wonder a lot about her experiences in her youth, the trouble she got into, the things she did with her friends... what other boys she dated.. her philosophies on life, her view on the world. I wish I had asked more of these things but at the same time I know she'd brush them off with short light answers.
I don't know... I'm just not handling it all that well mentally, emotionally. It's hard and it's sad. I just really needed to document all of these little things, and I figured now is better than any time. If she dies soon, which don't get me wrong I think that would sort of be a blessing cause she would never wish to be alive in this state...never. It's why I haven't seen her in a while cause I know she would hate to be seen this way. Or maybe it's also a little bit for my own selfish state of mind. But if she dies from this surgery, I know I wouldn't be able to write this so easily.
I love you grandma, I really really do. I miss you and think of you all the time. ....it will be hard to say the final good bye.
Wednesday, July 23, 2014
Wednesday, October 2, 2013
Florence: You Make It Feel Like Home
I have yet to write about my month in Italy!
Where do I even begin to describe the heavenly experience of living in Florence. Well, I suppose heaven is the key word here. Florence is a very special place, a hauntingly beautiful city rich with history and grand old architecture. It's magnetic; every day I woke up with the sensation that any dream or desire of mine was about to be fulfilled - and usually it was.
I found peace walking the streets of Florence at night. Never before had I felt more at home, nor my soul so inspired and yet stilled by this peace. The streets are a more quiet at night - not silent - but the tourists have disappeared. I no longer considered myself a tourist after a week of being there, but referred to myself as a traveler - it truly is a different experience to be able to immerse yourself into the culture and live the lifestyle for a period of time. Getting lost on different streets and ally ways trying to find a pub, or a good place to eat was always a wonderful adventure. Yes, getting lost was a theme on this trip. It was easy to find yourself lost in the city's intricate design, but the beautiful thing was that there was time allowed to find your way, and in fact not knowing where I was half the time led me to the most magnificent places where I saw the most magical things.
The lifestyle is gorgeous in Italy, and probably most of Europe share a similar perspective. Time passes slowly. You can relax, breathe slower, feel inspired by any little thing. They take three hour lunch breaks and enjoy things as they come. It is very different then our North American, do as much as you can as fast as you can, lifestyle. I could get used to the Italian way of living.
Every night my friend(s) and I would enjoy some wine at the Hostel Plus outdoor bar, which in itself was a vision. There were fences lines with vines and strings of white lights, as well as a pool the shined with different colours at night. Every single night we met so many new people from places all over the world. It was incredible and learned so much about different cultures. Yes, we were there for academic purposes, but chose the fuck school motto in order to embrace our time in Italy and all of its potential.
A friend and I went to Pisa and met up with some English boys we met on one of our first nights. Its was a lovely place to spend the day and they were great company. Other voyages we took were to Rome (which the touristy spots were great but definitely an overrated place in my opinion) and also Verona which I would love to go to again someday and spend some quality time there. It was beautiful, and I even left a note for the lovely Juliette to read at the famous balcony from Romeo and Juliette.
However, nothing compared to magic of Florence. It became home to us.
Some notes I jotted down quickly of little daily memories:
- First dinner by the carousal (magical lit up at night); great pasta, met Oliver and Rupert [trust fund babies, kicking children] British drinking song at a pub, trying to find a cigarette machine - found condom machine instead.
- late night walk, sitting on Dumo steps
- Pisa: meet Oli and Rupert; pigeons rape, no show boat race; peach ice tea
- Dianna (29 yr old cougar) & Peter; dinner by carousal; street show; wandering the streets
- Drinks/Shots with the Americans in their room; hockey fans; Liam = soulmate names
- Lunch by the river; greatest coffee in existence
- "There is a difference"
- Movie Scene afternoon; climb Michelangelo; take foreign paths; gelato; vintage shop; nap in the park listening to Frank Sinatra as is rains
- SPACE, surrounded by men; walked home in heels
- Canada Day; fireworks on terrace; buckets
- Rome: wine, sites, worst lunches, bleeding feet, blessed by the pope, missed casino train
- Pub night; dancing in the street with carrot top; pee in ally way; found late night sandwhich shop
- Being a late night drunken muse on a stool; saint jokes; sunrise walk - the disappointment!
-black out wasted; sang wrong Lana lyrics; hot vomiting mess in Jeremy's room
- Seeing the Statue of David, most beautiful man in existence
- My day wondering alone - lunched alone, beer alone, getting lost in the boboli gardens (never seen such a gorgeous site) soul fulfilled.
- Evening walk/climb to the Michelangelo with Brittany.. sunset/night .. "is this our life?"
Where do I even begin to describe the heavenly experience of living in Florence. Well, I suppose heaven is the key word here. Florence is a very special place, a hauntingly beautiful city rich with history and grand old architecture. It's magnetic; every day I woke up with the sensation that any dream or desire of mine was about to be fulfilled - and usually it was.
I found peace walking the streets of Florence at night. Never before had I felt more at home, nor my soul so inspired and yet stilled by this peace. The streets are a more quiet at night - not silent - but the tourists have disappeared. I no longer considered myself a tourist after a week of being there, but referred to myself as a traveler - it truly is a different experience to be able to immerse yourself into the culture and live the lifestyle for a period of time. Getting lost on different streets and ally ways trying to find a pub, or a good place to eat was always a wonderful adventure. Yes, getting lost was a theme on this trip. It was easy to find yourself lost in the city's intricate design, but the beautiful thing was that there was time allowed to find your way, and in fact not knowing where I was half the time led me to the most magnificent places where I saw the most magical things.
The lifestyle is gorgeous in Italy, and probably most of Europe share a similar perspective. Time passes slowly. You can relax, breathe slower, feel inspired by any little thing. They take three hour lunch breaks and enjoy things as they come. It is very different then our North American, do as much as you can as fast as you can, lifestyle. I could get used to the Italian way of living.
Every night my friend(s) and I would enjoy some wine at the Hostel Plus outdoor bar, which in itself was a vision. There were fences lines with vines and strings of white lights, as well as a pool the shined with different colours at night. Every single night we met so many new people from places all over the world. It was incredible and learned so much about different cultures. Yes, we were there for academic purposes, but chose the fuck school motto in order to embrace our time in Italy and all of its potential.
A friend and I went to Pisa and met up with some English boys we met on one of our first nights. Its was a lovely place to spend the day and they were great company. Other voyages we took were to Rome (which the touristy spots were great but definitely an overrated place in my opinion) and also Verona which I would love to go to again someday and spend some quality time there. It was beautiful, and I even left a note for the lovely Juliette to read at the famous balcony from Romeo and Juliette.
However, nothing compared to magic of Florence. It became home to us.
Some notes I jotted down quickly of little daily memories:
- First dinner by the carousal (magical lit up at night); great pasta, met Oliver and Rupert [trust fund babies, kicking children] British drinking song at a pub, trying to find a cigarette machine - found condom machine instead.
- late night walk, sitting on Dumo steps
- Pisa: meet Oli and Rupert; pigeons rape, no show boat race; peach ice tea
- Dianna (29 yr old cougar) & Peter; dinner by carousal; street show; wandering the streets
- Drinks/Shots with the Americans in their room; hockey fans; Liam = soulmate names
- Lunch by the river; greatest coffee in existence
- "There is a difference"
- Movie Scene afternoon; climb Michelangelo; take foreign paths; gelato; vintage shop; nap in the park listening to Frank Sinatra as is rains
- SPACE, surrounded by men; walked home in heels
- Canada Day; fireworks on terrace; buckets
- Rome: wine, sites, worst lunches, bleeding feet, blessed by the pope, missed casino train
- Pub night; dancing in the street with carrot top; pee in ally way; found late night sandwhich shop
- Being a late night drunken muse on a stool; saint jokes; sunrise walk - the disappointment!
-black out wasted; sang wrong Lana lyrics; hot vomiting mess in Jeremy's room
- Seeing the Statue of David, most beautiful man in existence
- My day wondering alone - lunched alone, beer alone, getting lost in the boboli gardens (never seen such a gorgeous site) soul fulfilled.
- Evening walk/climb to the Michelangelo with Brittany.. sunset/night .. "is this our life?"
Thursday, May 16, 2013
Fear of Infinity
Last night I had dinner with my dad and grandma in the city. We ended up talking about the place where my dad grew up and how these townhouses are going to be torn down for new buildings. Naturally, this lead to stories of his childhood. I could listen for hours to stories of the past and indulge in the fantasy that life was better, simpler, more romantic in such a time.
But these stories also elicit a fear that I cannot properly describe. The idea that the places where all of these events happened is about to be destroyed and eliminated forever scares me to a point of desperation, a void that cannot be filled. The immensity of it all, of all the things that have been, that were, that never will be again. The things I have never known, never seen, never felt, and yet somehow feel connected too. The infinite songs, movies, picture, novels that I will never hear, watch, see, or read.
It's an irrational sentimental fear, but the idea of not being able to know every song that has ever existed, every movie that has ever been made, photographs of people who once were like you and me, and pages of books that I will never touch. All of these are forgotten stories, and it only reminds me of how someday I will be a forgotten story, a memory that will not be remembered. I don't mind not being remembered after I'm gone, but it's all of the things that have come & been before me; things, people, places that I will never know or experience, the immensity of everything that has happened throughout time that has been lost from all recollection really plays into my fear. It gets me thinking about why we are even here at all and what part do we each play in this world, a world that wavers between being small, damaged and hopeless to being vast, illuminating with greatness and hope. An adventure. An overwhelming wave of infinity that, from time to time, floods my mind.
Be good, spread goodness, accept goodness, live a life of kindness and creativity. That's the conclusion I reach everytime these thoughts haunt me. And on the long ride home when my dad decided to turn off the radio and let the silence settle, I looked through the window into the lonely dark sky and focused on the stars, remembering how insignificant everything is at the end of the day.
But these stories also elicit a fear that I cannot properly describe. The idea that the places where all of these events happened is about to be destroyed and eliminated forever scares me to a point of desperation, a void that cannot be filled. The immensity of it all, of all the things that have been, that were, that never will be again. The things I have never known, never seen, never felt, and yet somehow feel connected too. The infinite songs, movies, picture, novels that I will never hear, watch, see, or read.
It's an irrational sentimental fear, but the idea of not being able to know every song that has ever existed, every movie that has ever been made, photographs of people who once were like you and me, and pages of books that I will never touch. All of these are forgotten stories, and it only reminds me of how someday I will be a forgotten story, a memory that will not be remembered. I don't mind not being remembered after I'm gone, but it's all of the things that have come & been before me; things, people, places that I will never know or experience, the immensity of everything that has happened throughout time that has been lost from all recollection really plays into my fear. It gets me thinking about why we are even here at all and what part do we each play in this world, a world that wavers between being small, damaged and hopeless to being vast, illuminating with greatness and hope. An adventure. An overwhelming wave of infinity that, from time to time, floods my mind.
Be good, spread goodness, accept goodness, live a life of kindness and creativity. That's the conclusion I reach everytime these thoughts haunt me. And on the long ride home when my dad decided to turn off the radio and let the silence settle, I looked through the window into the lonely dark sky and focused on the stars, remembering how insignificant everything is at the end of the day.
Thursday, May 2, 2013
Paradise
I just returned from a much needed vacation to Mazatlan, Mexico and am missing it terribly. It takes a lot for me to feel stressed or worried over anything really, but for some reason by the end of April I was beginning to feel overwhlemed without knowing the root of why - and I still don't. I do know that this vacation worked its magic and my thoughts are now refreshed.
Mazatlan, oh where do I begin? I have been to Mexico countless times, but never to Mazatlan. Let me tell you, it is one of the most beautiful and underrated place I have visited. My friend Chelsea and I went on the city tour and I have never felt so safe to wander the streets of a foreign design. The landscape, the architcture, all of it was breathtaking while luscious and rich in history. And the people that reside there are just lovely, so kind, friendly, and completely non threatening. Chels and I even ventured to town in an open taxi alone the following day because of the electric atmosphere.
On the city tour we met incredible new friends that gave the expereince that extra special quality. 4 couples ranging from the ages of 24-40 became our family for the last few days of the vacation. The Saturday night after the tour we got dressed in our leafs gear (as we all came from the same Toronto flight) - including Dom's legendary mexican Leafs poncho bought from town, and headed down the road from our resort (YES, we felt safe enought to leave the resort- besides I don't know who would try to tackle ten crazed leaf fans) to a local sportsbar for some grub, drinks, and, of course, the leafs game! The food was spectacular - much better than the resorts, and sadly the leafs sorely lost, but the company was enthused regardless.
We had lunch at another restaurant down the beach from our resort twice as well. There was a surfing contest and the place was packed and full of energy - and might I add dirt cheap! They were handing out free shots of rum as well as nachos and salsa. Always a good time. The waves were constant, and we were told that surfers from California travelled to Mazatlan to ride these waves. The beach is known as "witches beach" because of the many deaths due to undertoe... needless to say we did not tempt fate by swimming in the ocean. But just relaxing on the beach loungers with drinks in our hands, the sun kissing our skin, and a view of towering palm trees along with ocean waves... nothing less than paradise. Pure paradise. And the sunset, we watched every night from our balcony with our evening beer, was a spiritual experience - like looking into a glimpse of heaven.
*long sigh* yes I miss it terribly. It was sad to come home, but home is home and I have returned to beautiful weather in Canada. Summer is here, life is illuminating and alive again. Even breathing is easier in summertime. My mind is at ease, and I'm at peace with nostlagic thoughts of palm trees swaying in the ocean breeze while simultaneously embracing the near future of poolside joy, beaches, and cottage life. Summertime freedom is upon us.
Mazatlan, oh where do I begin? I have been to Mexico countless times, but never to Mazatlan. Let me tell you, it is one of the most beautiful and underrated place I have visited. My friend Chelsea and I went on the city tour and I have never felt so safe to wander the streets of a foreign design. The landscape, the architcture, all of it was breathtaking while luscious and rich in history. And the people that reside there are just lovely, so kind, friendly, and completely non threatening. Chels and I even ventured to town in an open taxi alone the following day because of the electric atmosphere.
On the city tour we met incredible new friends that gave the expereince that extra special quality. 4 couples ranging from the ages of 24-40 became our family for the last few days of the vacation. The Saturday night after the tour we got dressed in our leafs gear (as we all came from the same Toronto flight) - including Dom's legendary mexican Leafs poncho bought from town, and headed down the road from our resort (YES, we felt safe enought to leave the resort- besides I don't know who would try to tackle ten crazed leaf fans) to a local sportsbar for some grub, drinks, and, of course, the leafs game! The food was spectacular - much better than the resorts, and sadly the leafs sorely lost, but the company was enthused regardless.
We had lunch at another restaurant down the beach from our resort twice as well. There was a surfing contest and the place was packed and full of energy - and might I add dirt cheap! They were handing out free shots of rum as well as nachos and salsa. Always a good time. The waves were constant, and we were told that surfers from California travelled to Mazatlan to ride these waves. The beach is known as "witches beach" because of the many deaths due to undertoe... needless to say we did not tempt fate by swimming in the ocean. But just relaxing on the beach loungers with drinks in our hands, the sun kissing our skin, and a view of towering palm trees along with ocean waves... nothing less than paradise. Pure paradise. And the sunset, we watched every night from our balcony with our evening beer, was a spiritual experience - like looking into a glimpse of heaven.
*long sigh* yes I miss it terribly. It was sad to come home, but home is home and I have returned to beautiful weather in Canada. Summer is here, life is illuminating and alive again. Even breathing is easier in summertime. My mind is at ease, and I'm at peace with nostlagic thoughts of palm trees swaying in the ocean breeze while simultaneously embracing the near future of poolside joy, beaches, and cottage life. Summertime freedom is upon us.
Wednesday, April 17, 2013
I Am Electric.
My life in the past few months has truly been a series of euphoric experiences. I used to get so nervous about not using my time to its full potentional that essentially I wasted much of it worried over missing opportunities and ending up in an office living a mediocre life
One day it just clicked in my mind. I dropped the obsession of wasting youth and began taking things as they come, living freely. I have taken the say yes to as many things as possible philosophy - I have gone wild! Each weekend, no, each day, ignites a fire in my soul, enabling me to embrace every new experience that falls my way. Less and less do I find myself suffocated over the lost potential in life, instead I find myself taking control and participating in anything and everything that fulfills my passions. I feel electric.
The world, or rather humanity, can be exceptionally cruel and unjust. I would sit for hours overwhlemed by that hopeless feeling that there is nothing quite so good that could conquer the evil... almost like there can be a thousand good people fighting for good change, but then that one person who does something terrible somehow shadows all of the goodness. Recently my perspective of this has changed - mainly because I need it to change. Instead of sitting, and thinking, and doing nothing about my helpless feeling, I invest that sadness into a form of action. I think I've come to realize that you can only do the actions you hope that others will, but just by your act alone you are doing something with purpose.
One of the things I have tried to act on is the unneccessity of eating meat. I am vegan and trying to spread awareness of the unethical act of eating meat/dairy products, as well as the environmental impact it has on the world (astonishing). I am even writing an article for the IS Foundation about the perks of being vegan - and the environmental aspects of it seeing as most people have heard the animal cruelty spiel before. Sometimes I feel like those people who impose their religious views on others, but I can't help how passionate I feel about it!
Anyway, I shall move on.
I have become a lot more involved with how I can help my community and the world in any small way that I can. Just by doing that I feel a spark of hope for the future because I can already see how many others out there are trying to do the same. Even within my community of family and friends I can see my influence rubbing off.
I'm constantly inspired by life these days. I let my imagination run wild and free, allowing it to mould my reality. People used to define me as a dreamer- and I was, and still am in a lot of ways, but I am more concerned with reality now and making life something concrete, something I can grasp onto and revel in. So instead of constantly living in my mind, I have applied the thoughts of my made up world into reality. Fantasy is my reality. I am alive. I am electric. And the world with all of its beauty and horrors combined is perfectly alright with me.
One day it just clicked in my mind. I dropped the obsession of wasting youth and began taking things as they come, living freely. I have taken the say yes to as many things as possible philosophy - I have gone wild! Each weekend, no, each day, ignites a fire in my soul, enabling me to embrace every new experience that falls my way. Less and less do I find myself suffocated over the lost potential in life, instead I find myself taking control and participating in anything and everything that fulfills my passions. I feel electric.
The world, or rather humanity, can be exceptionally cruel and unjust. I would sit for hours overwhlemed by that hopeless feeling that there is nothing quite so good that could conquer the evil... almost like there can be a thousand good people fighting for good change, but then that one person who does something terrible somehow shadows all of the goodness. Recently my perspective of this has changed - mainly because I need it to change. Instead of sitting, and thinking, and doing nothing about my helpless feeling, I invest that sadness into a form of action. I think I've come to realize that you can only do the actions you hope that others will, but just by your act alone you are doing something with purpose.
One of the things I have tried to act on is the unneccessity of eating meat. I am vegan and trying to spread awareness of the unethical act of eating meat/dairy products, as well as the environmental impact it has on the world (astonishing). I am even writing an article for the IS Foundation about the perks of being vegan - and the environmental aspects of it seeing as most people have heard the animal cruelty spiel before. Sometimes I feel like those people who impose their religious views on others, but I can't help how passionate I feel about it!
Anyway, I shall move on.
I have become a lot more involved with how I can help my community and the world in any small way that I can. Just by doing that I feel a spark of hope for the future because I can already see how many others out there are trying to do the same. Even within my community of family and friends I can see my influence rubbing off.
I'm constantly inspired by life these days. I let my imagination run wild and free, allowing it to mould my reality. People used to define me as a dreamer- and I was, and still am in a lot of ways, but I am more concerned with reality now and making life something concrete, something I can grasp onto and revel in. So instead of constantly living in my mind, I have applied the thoughts of my made up world into reality. Fantasy is my reality. I am alive. I am electric. And the world with all of its beauty and horrors combined is perfectly alright with me.
Tuesday, April 9, 2013
A Fire for Every Experience
It amuses me how one boy altered my entire state of being. How getting closure with him after four years of being strung along in the chase led me to swear off dating for the rest of highschool. How in that moment a barrier was created between the world and my heart without me even noticing. Even more, it being the same year my friends abandoned me, for whatever dramatic reasons, enabled me to become hopelessly dependent on my independence. And I never went back.
I look around the walls of my room and am reminded of all the growing up I did in here. And for the first time, it doesn't sadden me to look back. Though I've done a lot of crying and suffering in this room, I've also done a lot of laughing, playing. This is the room I've spent so much time dreaming, hoping, wishing on so many stars, just waiting for life to begin.
I craved an all consuming love from the very depths of my soul and begged for it through my window. But at the same time I knew my heart was conflicted about what it wanted because it became gaurded - knowing too well I would fall too easily for just anyone. And I refused to settle - hell I still refuse to settle - so I've become open to indulging in every experience, in random experiences, along with the knowledge of having no long term expectations.
But it all comes back to him. The first boy to break my heart. Who made me believe I was in love. Who inspired me, my thoughts, my writing, for so many years. And though I know it was the most painful, pathetic, tedious thing I had ever endured in my teenage years, all I want is to thank him for shaping who I was to become so entirely, into the fiercely independent person I am. Who still has the capacity to believe in love and have compassion. To still hope, dream & believe that an all consuming romance awaits in the world. I don't think I will find it myself, but it's the fact that I keep close in my heart the knowledge that there are soul mates out there - And if you end up with yours, then it's a rare and beautiful existence to have lived at all
I look around the walls of my room and am reminded of all the growing up I did in here. And for the first time, it doesn't sadden me to look back. Though I've done a lot of crying and suffering in this room, I've also done a lot of laughing, playing. This is the room I've spent so much time dreaming, hoping, wishing on so many stars, just waiting for life to begin.
I craved an all consuming love from the very depths of my soul and begged for it through my window. But at the same time I knew my heart was conflicted about what it wanted because it became gaurded - knowing too well I would fall too easily for just anyone. And I refused to settle - hell I still refuse to settle - so I've become open to indulging in every experience, in random experiences, along with the knowledge of having no long term expectations.
But it all comes back to him. The first boy to break my heart. Who made me believe I was in love. Who inspired me, my thoughts, my writing, for so many years. And though I know it was the most painful, pathetic, tedious thing I had ever endured in my teenage years, all I want is to thank him for shaping who I was to become so entirely, into the fiercely independent person I am. Who still has the capacity to believe in love and have compassion. To still hope, dream & believe that an all consuming romance awaits in the world. I don't think I will find it myself, but it's the fact that I keep close in my heart the knowledge that there are soul mates out there - And if you end up with yours, then it's a rare and beautiful existence to have lived at all
Accept Darkness
I write to get unbearable thoughts or feelings out of my system.. whether immensely sad or dark, or incredibly happy or overwhelemed with joy. I think that's what it's all about anyway - to allow yourself to feel as much as possible with all your depth in any emotion you're feeling. It is during those moments that you truly understand the transcendent concept of being alive.
I guess I decided to start writing again because I don't feel the pressure to rewrite my entire past. I'll just write things as they come back to my mind. I also feel very inspired lately by the music I've been listening to and this book I "The Perks of Being a Wall Flower". Absolutly beautiful. So intricate with those emotions of exhausting sadness and moments that feel like infinite joy, which I think so many people can relate to. I find that depressing though, that the majority of humanity has known such desperate sadness and that we all feel lonely more often than not. Even amongst people - no, especially when surrounded by people. And yet it is sort of beautiful, the unity of it all and the truth in it. And lets not forget the part that we all feel intoxicating love and joy at some time which gives us hope and a feeling of belonging somewhere in the world in our constant search to find a real sense of home.
I used to rely so heavily on my dreams and the stars to carry out my destiny. I am a dreamer. But recently I've begun to find the sensations of wonder & curiosity that I used to seek in the stars, now in the pulsing of my own veins. I feel more free to indulge in my dreams in my daily life and make them reality - to live them and also not be scared of the darkness that at times consumes me. Because now I realize that the rush I feel in under my skin, in my blood, the immense depth, the dark, is something to embrace. And it's ok to feel that darkness, to live with your darkness, when you know that you also believe in the light. There's this quote I recently read and part of it really stood out to me: "You must be strong enough to love the world, but be empty enough to sit at the same table and face all of its horrors" - I think that is something that really resignates with me.
It hurts sometimes, most times, knowing how broken people really are, but the only choice we really have is to carry the knowledge that is unites us. Everybody is struggling, thought it's easy to believe its only yourself who feels lost sometimes. But "we must either learn to carry the weight of the universe, or be crushed by it". Learning to live with your sadness and still remain hopeful in all endeavers is really the key - for me at least. Life should not be taken so seriously. Do what feels right, be a compassionate person, and have fun fulfilling your days with things that bring you joy and purpose.
I guess I decided to start writing again because I don't feel the pressure to rewrite my entire past. I'll just write things as they come back to my mind. I also feel very inspired lately by the music I've been listening to and this book I "The Perks of Being a Wall Flower". Absolutly beautiful. So intricate with those emotions of exhausting sadness and moments that feel like infinite joy, which I think so many people can relate to. I find that depressing though, that the majority of humanity has known such desperate sadness and that we all feel lonely more often than not. Even amongst people - no, especially when surrounded by people. And yet it is sort of beautiful, the unity of it all and the truth in it. And lets not forget the part that we all feel intoxicating love and joy at some time which gives us hope and a feeling of belonging somewhere in the world in our constant search to find a real sense of home.
I used to rely so heavily on my dreams and the stars to carry out my destiny. I am a dreamer. But recently I've begun to find the sensations of wonder & curiosity that I used to seek in the stars, now in the pulsing of my own veins. I feel more free to indulge in my dreams in my daily life and make them reality - to live them and also not be scared of the darkness that at times consumes me. Because now I realize that the rush I feel in under my skin, in my blood, the immense depth, the dark, is something to embrace. And it's ok to feel that darkness, to live with your darkness, when you know that you also believe in the light. There's this quote I recently read and part of it really stood out to me: "You must be strong enough to love the world, but be empty enough to sit at the same table and face all of its horrors" - I think that is something that really resignates with me.
It hurts sometimes, most times, knowing how broken people really are, but the only choice we really have is to carry the knowledge that is unites us. Everybody is struggling, thought it's easy to believe its only yourself who feels lost sometimes. But "we must either learn to carry the weight of the universe, or be crushed by it". Learning to live with your sadness and still remain hopeful in all endeavers is really the key - for me at least. Life should not be taken so seriously. Do what feels right, be a compassionate person, and have fun fulfilling your days with things that bring you joy and purpose.
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