#1 - My life is changing, and it's for the better.

This is less of a random fact, and more of an announcement that I have been hoping to make since Tuesday. It's probably the most exciting news I could have received the day before my birthday.

As of 3:00pm today, I HAVE A NEW JOB!!!

I'm now working for an awesome company as an Admin Assistant/Customer Service Rep. Monday to Friday, 37.5 hours a week, salary, benefits.... AND ROOM TO ADVANCE.

In the final meeting today, they were even talking about things that they could utilize my journalism skills for!

The last several months have been nothing but stress for me. Every time I thought I might have the chance to get ahead, I was thrown several steps back. All I've wanted is to get a job that could be a potential career, or at the least be somewhere I could stay for a few years.

And now? I have it. I'm so floored. I almost screamed in the office at work when I received the job offer by e-mail.

Now for the hard part... handing in my resignation at the resort.

But for now, I'm going to go to bed, and when I wake up? IT WILL BE MY BIRTHDAY!!!!!!

Are you ready for this? HELL YES.

So last post, I mentionned some potential great news. I didn't want to actually say what it was, because I didn't want to jinx it.

But now I know for sure, and I am wanting to SCREAM IT FROM THE ROOFTOPS! I am so excited, and I am so thankful!

This whole situation I think was God waiting on me to learn to trust Him. To be patient and just have faith. And we all know I'm not very good at that part. I like to be in control, I like to know what's happening, and I like to feel like I decide which path things take.

Unfortunately, that's not the way life works, and that's certainly not the way God works.

I had a potential job opportunity about a month and a half ago that didn't work out. It wasn't that they didn't want me, but they were not able to proceed with the position at the time. They said they would contact me when it split, and as much as I hoped they would, I didn't want to get my hopes too high.

There were several things I had been wanting to do (which I will also divulge into later) that were, to me, dependant on getting this job. So when it fell through, I chose not to do them.

After talking with my parents, they told me to take a leap of faith, and trust that God would provide. So I did.

Two weeks later, that job place called me back. They asked me to come in this morning for a final meeting.

As of about an hour ago, they've offered me a job!!!!!!

I'll go into more details later, but right now, I just had to let you all know because I'm so excited I could cry!

#2 - Everything around her is a silver pool of light

When all my friends used to tell me they had a song they considered to be their song, the soundtrack to their life, I was always envious. For whatever reason, I could never find a song that worked for me; something that just picked me up and reminded me that I had so much potential.

Sure, there were songs that fit different parts of my life, generally the depressing ones, but I could never find that one song that I was like 'I want this song to be me. To be the one that explains my life.'

It wasn't until I was 20 that I heard it. First, on the soundtrack to a movie that I connected with more than any other movie I had seen. Then, it was the theme to a tv show that I connected with so much more. And it was then that I realized, this was my song.

It was like all three things worked together to pull me out of my 'life slump' and realize not only the potential I had, but that I didn't really need to care what others think.

The movie was The Devil Wears Prada, and the show? Ugly Betty. Despite the fact that I never ended up working at some big shot fashion magazine, both those girls represented so much of me. I had never identified with a character as much as I did with Betty and Andy.

I don't really even know why the song is my song. It doesn't really describe me. But I think that's where the beauty of it lies. For whatever reason, it's a song that reminds me that I have the potential to be someone, even if I never make it anywhere at all. That I just have to look past all my preconceived notions of myself and dive into the things I know I can be.

This song drove my second year roommate crazy, but it's amazing how much it did for me. And how much it still does.

#3 - I'm a pretty low-maintenance kind of gal.

Greene likes to poke fun at me for this a lot. I've never been high maintenance that I can think of. I'm easy to please, I never expect anything extravagant, and I'm always happier with something low-key instead of something superbly expensive and romantic.

This is all especially true when it comes to dates. I don't like going out for massive, romantic dinners. They make me feel awkward. The restaurants are always so fancy, and require a certain level of etiquette (which I can pull off, but it really makes me feel weird). The people who tend to eat there always look so fabulous and so chique, whereas I have difficulty pulling off even slightly fancy.

Plus, sitting at a dinner table for three and four hours just really isn't my thing. Don't get me wrong, I like having food (and sometimes lots of it), but sitting still just to eat? Not appealing at all.

I'd rather grab something quicker, then go for a walk or rent some video games and just hang out.

Which is why I am over the moon excited about Greene's birthday gift to me this year. He is taking me on a date to Playdium, which is basically this super huge arcade with top of the line video games, that you pay by the hour to use!

Heck, even just hanging out in my basement together would make me happy (but we do enough of that one already).

I'm not a very demanding person, and never have been when it comes to relationships.

Slowly coming back to life.

I've been scarce these last few months, and I feel bad about it. Partially, because I feel that if you all are following me, I should be providing you something worth following for, but also because for me blogging was supposed to be a way to keep myself writing.

Pretty much since the first few weeks of January, my life has been constant stress. From work, to money issues, bills to car troubles, co-workers, debt... you name it. It built to a point where I just kind of shut down. I haven't done much more than play video games, work and spend time with my boyfriend over the last little while. In a way, I guess it's a good thing. I actually spent time relaxing. But on the other hand, I feel like I've fallen behind in life.

It's been difficult to say the least.

That being said, there's a very good chance that in the next few days, something big is about to happen. Something that will change my life for the better, rid me of a lot of my stress and make my life move forward.

I don't want to say what it is because I'm scared I'll jinx it. But I'm bursting at the seams, and I need to say something.

I'm trusting in God with this one. I'm believing that He is holding onto this for me, and that He was simply waiting for me to take a leap of faith in certain areas of my life before giving me this.

But like I said, this is big. This is going to change my life. And the moment I know for sure, you can bet I'll be telling all of you!

#4 - I don't like kids.

This fact comes as a surprise to most people.

I've always been good with kids, like, really good with them. For whatever reason, they seem to take an instant liking to me. But I'm not a fan of them.

Don't get me wrong, there are kids I've taken quite a shining to. There are kids that I love to spend some time with, who stole my heart the moment I met them.

But for the most part I can't stand them.At least, not when they're in large groups. They're so demanding, they scream, they yell, and they require so much energy, which I tend to lack.

And of course, the biggest reason is I honestly just don't have the patience. On the one hand, I feel bad about it. I have issues volunteering at the Church children's programs because of it.

Thankfully, I managed to snag a position as the photographer, which makes it a bit easier as I don't have to interact as much. But other than that, I'm really not much good to them.

I'm sure my opinion will change if I ever have kids of my own, but for now, I'll continue to keep a safe distance from large groups of screaming ankle-biters :D.

#5 - I like to walk around in socks.

 If it were up to me, I would never wear shoes. Just socks and bare feet. Mostly socks though. I love the feel of socks.

That was one thing I liked about working the night shift the last few nights; I could take off my shoes and run around in socks and no-one was the wiser.

It's just so much more comfortable in socks than shoes.

Plus you know, I have yet to find a pair of shoes that doesn't agitate my screwed up ankle (which swells up ALL THE TIME), so going around in my socks saves me a lot of agony.

When I worked at the coffee shop, I would always mop early just so that I had an excuse to take off my shoes and run around in my socks. After all, shoes would get the floor dirty again, right?

I would even drive in my socks if I could.

#6 - I'm naturally a cold person.

Growing up, I used to mock my mother regularly for always being cold. It would be 30 degrees outside, humid, and we'd all be melting, meanwhile my mother would be wearing a sweater and complaining that it was chilly.

Then I hit my twenties. Suddenly, I was cold all the time too. I'm not as bad as my mother, but when most people are hot, I'm shivering and hiding under a sweater or a blanket.

I'm not sure what the cause was. I just suddenly stopped feeling warm all the time, and started feeling cold.

The summer isn't so bad; for the most part, I can ignore the cold that I feel. But the winter is the worst. No word of a lie, there are nights where I am so cold that I'll be wearing my pyjamas, sweatpants and a sweater overtop of them, big fuzzy socks, a hat, mittens and sometimes a scarf, while buried under my normal blankets, a down duvet and three or four extra comforters piled on top of me. Even after all that, I'll still end up shivering my way to sleep.

#7 has been disqualified....

Because 7 ate 9.....

 

 (Get it? 7,8,9?)

BADUMPA BA!

Okay, so I have a thing for corny jokes... but I just couldn't resist.

My ultimate favourite one has always been: A horse walked into a bar and the bartender asks 'Why the long face?'

#8 - I owe my passion for writing to my 5th Grade teacher.

If I think back, I honestly can't recall a time when I didn't enjoy writing. By the age of 9 I had a poetry book and about three diaries.

But it was quite clear when my passion for writing really kicked in, and it was all thanks to my Grade 5 teacher, Mr. A.

Mr. A was the kind of teacher that every kid in the school hoped to get. He was cool, he was funny, and his class was the only one that got to do all sorts of extra stuff. He had a huge K-NEX rollercoaster in the classroom, which would be torn down every year so that the new class could rebuild it. There was a remote control flying Batman, and a monkey(or something) that glided down a tightrope above the classroom.

We were also the only class who had an actual computer (*GASP*) in the classroom. It was old-school, with the big floppy drives and took about ten minutes to boot up, but we loved it. Especially since it was used for the sole purpose of playing games like Frogger. We also had pet lizards in the classroom. Mr. A also ran the school workshop, which meant the only class that got to do wood-working was ours.

But the thing that impressed me the most was his laptop. We were allowed to use it when we got our work done, which somehow worked out to being mostly me using it. This lap-top was really a dinosaur, though at the time it was top of the line. If you remember Chandler's first laptop in Friends, that thing looked like a Dual Processor, Pentium II, gaming computer compared to Mr. A's. The only thing that laptop was capable of was being used as a Word processor.

I still don't know how or why I ended up getting to use it all the time, but Mr. A allowed me to fuel my creative energies into it, encouraging me to write whatever I felt like. It was in his class that I wrote my first two novels. They were tiny, silly and very poorly written, but I was so proud of them.

Where I came up with the ideas, I'll never know. They were so obscure for my age, but yet it worked. I remember spending hours upon hours writing them, skipping recesses and lunch breaks to get these stories out.

Ever since then, I've always been writing stories. Most remain unfinished, but I'm certain I'll get them done one day.

And who knows, maybe one day I'll take those first two books I wrote and rewrite them into a series for kids.

#9 - I like nerds. Especially the brightly coloured ones.

Even though I'm an adult now, I can't deny that my favourite snack is one that is highly unhealthy for me. But I can't help it.

There is something about the sugar rush, the taste and the whole concept of having that for a snack that makes me feel all giddy and well childish again.

Oh man. Now I really want some nerds.

#10 - I used to be a coffee lover, but coffee didn't love me.

Saying used to is slightly incorrect as I still do love my coffee. It is most unfortunate however, as this is an unrequited love.

For years, our love was mutual. I would rarely go more than half an hour without coffee by my side. Over twelve cups a day, and we would never grow sick of one another.

It's smell was like a drug to me. Any whiff of it and I would instantly pause, close my eyes and just take it in.

Coffee was my best friend; greeting me first thing in the morning, seeing me off to bed at night. When I was upset or stressed, coffee was there, offering it's warming comfort and wonderful and different tastes. When I had a headache, coffee was there to offer quick relief. If I was meeting old friends, current friends or new ones, coffee was there to accompany me, adding a splash of calming familiarity to each situation.

And then one day, it all changed. It started with the tummy aches, which grew to sharp shooting pains. I thought it was just a bump in our loving relationship; one of those things you have to push through. So I did. The pain went away, and I thought everything was okay.

But then other things started to change. I was dizzy all the time. I started getting physically ill. Now, instead of healing headaches it seemed to be causing them. I was tired all the time. I couldn't get up in the morning. And so I depended on coffee more, but the symptoms kept getting worse.

Finally, I caved and went to see a doctor. When they told me that while it wasn't a root, Coffee could be linked to the extreme symptoms I was having, I guffawed. It couldn't be true. Not coffee. We were already spending less time together than we had during college, and I never had any issues then.

At first I ignored their warnings. Coffee and I were great. It was solely the other physical issues I had that must be causing these symptoms. When I hit the point where I could barely function, I realized I didn't have much of a choice.

It was around that time that Greene introduced me to Steeped Tea, and soon I was pouring all my devotion into ST.

It was only after a few months of my developing relationship with ST that I realized all my symptoms had left, and seemed to be in line with the time I left Coffee. Saddened by this, I realized I should give Coffee another chance to prove that our relationship was not the cause of all my problems.

I soon came to discover, much to my sorrow, that Coffee was in fact the issue. Coffee still liked me in it's much richer form -- Columbian and Guatemalan roasts from the fancier coffee shops. But anything less, especially in it's Tim Horton's form, and I would get as sick as a dog.

As hard as it is, we decided for the most part, to part ways. We still visit once every few weeks, but it is clear our love is a thing of the past.

#11 - One day, I will join the Star Wars ranks.

Back in public school, when the girls my age were obsessed with The Babysitter's Club and Sweet Valley, I had read all of them and found myself longing for more. At the age of 9, after having seen Star Wars for the first time and falling in love with it, I was introduced to a Star Wars Book series called Young Jedi Knights.

I'm pretty sure my parents regretted giving me the book shortly after that Christmas. I finished reading the book in a day, and hungry for more, begged my brother to let me read the one they got him (an X-wing book). From there, I convinced my mother to get me a library card for our Public Library, and quickly poured through their entire collection of Star Wars books. I read every single book I could get my hands on, my fascination with the world and the characters growing quickly over the years.

By the end of high school, I was so in love with it all that I started developing my own character (along with writing a TERRIBLE self-insert fanfiction with a former best friend about our random appearance in Episode 2).

I probably spent more time in high school researching the bits about the Star Wars EU that I hadn't learned from the books (thank you Wookieepedia) in order to develop the perfect story.

By the age of 18, I decided that I would one day win my way into being one of the esteemed Star Wars novelists.

First, people (especially other geeks) laughed at my goal, claiming it was impossible task. With so much information needed to be able to fit books into an already created timeline, it was highly unlikely I could achieve such a thing.

The doubt remained until some of them witnessed my being disqualified from a Star Wars trivia night for knowing too much about Star Wars (interesting side note -- I was also banned from X-men and Spiderman trivia nights).  Between that and hearing my storyline, which was only just started, but carefully crafted, they changed their tune from impossible to merely improbable.

I like to think my chances are a little bit more than improbable, but hey, that's what dreaming is for right?

Today is a day to reflect...

I know that not all of you who read this are Christians, or agree with it. I'm not posting to convert anyone or to try and convince you to believe what I believe.

The story I'm posting here today, some of you may have heard before. It's not real --  an inspirational work of fiction, but it has always been one of the stories that has given me a greater understanding of the impact of God's choice to let Christ be sacrificed so that our sins could be forgiven. It was probably the first story that ever made it real for me, caused me to really understand why it is, as a Christian that God's choice to do what He did was so powerful.

An Anguishing Choice

This story was told by a pastor's friend who was a guest one Sunday in the pastor's church. After a brief introduction of his friend, the pastor led his friend to the pulpit area so that the elderly man could speak:

"A father, his son and a close friend of the son were sailing off the Pacific Coast one day when a storm took them by complete surprise. The storm surrounded the three so quickly that they thought they'd not be able to get back to shore in safety. Although the father was an experienced sailor, he was no match for the forces of nature and in short order, the storm-tossed boat tipped and bobbed, and the wind and waves tossed the three into the churning ocean."

The elderly man paused for a moment, and looked toward two teen boys who had seemed fidgety and bored at the beginning of the service. The old man noted that the boys now seemed quite interested in his story, so he took a sip of water and continued...

"The father managed to grasp on to the boat and scramble back aboard, and quickly reached for a rescue line to toss out for the boys. As he readied himself to throw out the line, this is where the father had to make the most excruciating decision of his life - and with no real time for deliberation! In the ever-increasing violence of the storm, every second counted and the boys were far separated from each other by the rolling sea. The father knew he would only be able to get the rescue line out once and drag it back in before it was too late and one of the boys drifted too far out for saving. Should he throw the line to his son? Or his son's friend?

The father was almost frozen with indecision, but realized that his son was a Christian while he knew his son's friend was not. With that knowledge then, the father acted immediately, shouting, "I love you son!" while throwing the rescue line in the direction of his son's friend.

By the time the father was able to pull the teen to the boat, his son had been swept away into the darkness of the storm. The son's body was never recovered."

The elderly speaker glanced again to the two boys he'd noticed before, and they were sitting much straighter in their pew, attentively listening as never before.

"The father knew that his Christian son would step into eternity with Jesus and could not bear the thought of his son's friend going into eternity without Jesus, and this is why the father didn't attempt to rescue his own son. Instead, he sacrificed his son so that another boy should live."

His point stated, the elderly friend of the pastor walked away from the pulpit and sat himself down, while the pastor, judging that his congregation was deep in contemplative, emotional thought, decided not to extend any lengthier sermon. He thanked his speaker friend and told the congregation he would be welcoming them again into church a week from this day.

No sooner had the pastor ended the formalities than the two boys went over to the elderly speaker.

"That was a nice story" said one of the boys, while the other finished the sentence, "but I don't think it was too realistic for a father to give up the life of his son when the father couldn't know if the son's friend would ever become a Christian." The other boy chimed in, "Yeah - how would he know that he didn't just save a boy who would never be with Jesus in eternity, anyway? Then he'd have saved the wrong boy!"

"You've got a point there," said the old man, "and I can see how you might think the father made the wrong choice, but..."

He paused, looking down to the Bible he held in his lap for a moment, then looked back into the boys' faces, "I can tell you that the father made the right choice, and one similar to the choice God made in sacrificing his son, too...

...you see...

I was the son's friend."

#12 - I want to change the world.

I just never know where to start.

I remember being told time and time again that one person can't make a difference. That's not true. Changing the world for the better can't happen in one swift movement. At least, it can't with the way the world operates. There are not enough people willing to help, not enough willing to give the money and take the time.

So changing the world has to happen one step at a time.

More often than not though, it's easy to get thrown off by the big picture. To feel so overwhelmed with the ultimate goal that you forget how to take those little steps.

That's where I struggle. I like to see results; I've never been much of one for the process.

But I'll get over those struggles one day. I'll learn how to break it all down into the little picture, how to take one step at a time. I know I won't succeed in changing the whole world, but I know I'll succeed in changing something. I'll change a life, a heart, a mind, a person. And in turn, that person will do the same. And that person. And so on.

It only takes one domino to fall to knock the whole train out.

Imagine how much of the world we could change if each person in a first world country reached out to change the life of someone who otherwise couldn't?

#13 - I want to Road Trip across North America.

One thing I would like to do before I settle down and have a family is road trip across North America. I think it would be so fantastic to just hop in a car and drive across Canada and the States. Of course, I would be such a geek about it, totally checking out all the historical places.

It would be so freeing, just going where-ever I wanted, not having a set plan or having any responsibilities or obligations. I can't imagine the kind of finances it would require to do that, but if it were feasible, I definitely think it would be something worth doing.
 

Finding someone willing to go with me might be the hardest part. Especially someone that I wouldn't get sick of being around for that extended period of time.

I'm sure I would come away with some interesting stories, fabulous adventures and the likes.

If only, eh?

#14 - I struggle to believe in myself.

For as long as I can remember, I have always doubted everything about myself. From who I am as a person, to my capabilities, passions and talents.

I've tried to change my thinking, but I constantly feel like I'm simply not good enough.

I don't know where the underlying issue originates. But I know I question myself daily. I question whether I'm a good enough writer to make it as a journalist and whether I'm a good enough writer to make it writing novels.

I question whether I even have what it takes to make it in life. Am I bold enough? Am I strong enough to overcome my social anxiety? Do I even have the capability to come off as knowing what I am talking about in order to get the job done?

Lately, my parents have been telling me I need to give up on those dreams. I need to face the fact that I'm not cut out to be a journalist, and that I am not meant to be a writer.

And I'm scared. I'm scared that they are right, and that all my fears and doubts have been right all along.

I've never had much courage in myself. Life doesn't seem all that keen on helping me.

Do you struggle with confidence in your abilities? And if so, how do you all conquer that fear?

#15 - I'll die before I bare my soul.

I'm not sure if any of you have noticed, but I tend to stay away from talking about feelings and emotions, and what's really going on in my head.

This has less to do with my wanting to keep that separate from my blog and more to do with the fact that I simply don't do that. I'm not an open person, and I never really have been. When I first started shutting myself off from the world, I was quite aware of it. I was six years old, and I remember deciding not to let anyone in. The problem is, I spent so long doing it that I stopped being aware that I was still doing it.

It wasn't until my big sister/best friend/endearing mentor pointed it out that I became aware I was still doing it. It wasn't even that I didn't share anything; people knew when I was happy, sad, depressed, upset, excited... but I never really let anyone know anything beyond that. What was going on in my mind that was causing these things? How did I feel in depth about it? How did I feel about the people surrounding me?

I struggle to be open, even now. The biggest reason is it makes me vulnerable. To bare my soul means I am in a position to be hurt. To have my greatest fears brought to existence. And beyond that, there are repercussions. Ones that are not very fun.

You see, opening up leads to fear, and fear leads to a complete shut-down. I thought I was past that, that my meds would have balanced that out like they did everything else. But it turns out my defense mechanism is not related to my mental illness.

I shut down this past week. Completely. I was numb, emotionless and just simply there. It felt foreign to me, because it's been so long. I'd be lying if I said there wasn't a part of me that wished I could remain that way. Life is so much easier when I'm blank. I don't get upset, I don't get scared, I'm just calm. All the time.

But then I remember all the good feelings and I realize what a waste that is.

I'm still terrified of baring my soul and being open though. There's a large part of me that doesn't want to let go of the facade. I still haven't decided if that's a good thing or not.

#16 - I have a slight obsession...

Growing up, I did not like many colours. Green, mostly. But you would never, ever ever catch me dead with pink.

I hated pink. I would not paint my nails pink, I would not wear a pink dress, hat or jacket. I did not like pink at all. 

And then, I turned 18. And suddenly, I liked it. Not just any pink either, fuchsias and hot pinks, neons... anything bright that stood out and looked pretty. I went from not owning anything pink, to having to be dragged away from pink at the stores. 

What can I say though... I think I look pretty darned good in pink. 

And the best part is? Almost EVERYTHING comes in pink.

:)

#17 – I don’t do crying babies. Actually, I just don’t do babies

I find myself feeling at odds with my generation a lot lately. This is for three rather large reasons. Either A) They have somehow managed to walk into a kick-ass job or career, B) They are married and settled down and/or C) They are either having or desperately wanting to have babies.

I don’t have any of these, and out of all three options, I’m really only interested in A.

It’s not that I don’t want to be married, or fall in love or any of that. I’m a hopeless romantic, so I can’t help but want those things. I just don’t want them right now. I feel too young, too unsure of life. Sure, 25 is an adult. It means I have 7 years of adulthood under my belt, according to the Canadian Government (and apparently to the ladies group at church, who invited my sister and I out to their adult event). But in reality? I don’t feel all that adult. I’m not settled in life, I have not landed a job that I’ll be in more than a couple of years, and I’m so unsure of where I’m headed that I am still living in my parents house. That is not the way you want to be going into a marriage… at least, that’s not how I want to be.

Then there’s the whole kids thing. My sister turns 22 a week after my 25^th, and she is dying for a baby. Two of her closest friends have babies. Her other one just got prego. Every one of the ladies at this group thing last night had babies, except my sister and I.

It’s not that I don’t like babies. They’re cute and I can’t deny I start cooing and getting all, girly, with them. I just don’t want one.

I’m not even sure I really like them. Maybe I just like the idea of them all cute and such. Because as the ladies last night found out, I will cuddle, snuggle and play with that baby. But the second it starts crying, I’ll pass that baby so quick, you’d think it was a hot tamale.

But, back to the point. I sometimes wonder if it’s more or less that in the church environment everyone seems to marry and baby young, and most of the people I know are in the church family. But then I look at the people around me that aren’t church goers and realize it’s the same. Maybe it’s a small town thing.

Or maybe, I am seriously missing the bar on this one.

#18 - Yes, I have a violent streak.

When I was in high school, my violent streak was really violent. If I got really, really angry I was capable of doing a fair amount of danger. So much so that my friends had taken quick notes on how to tell I was about to snap into a blind rage, in order to avoid being near me when it happened.

These days, my violent streak has subsided. It's still there, but it tends to come out more verbally than physically. There are two very distinct causes that snap me into this: Stupidity, and ignorance.

It's one of the reasons I worry I would make a bad teacher. I just don't have patience for either attitude. Of course, when I say stupidity, I'm not referring to people who may struggle academically. I don't consider that stupidity, as it just means they're a different type of learner.

I'm referring to the careless people who are self-centered and don't bother to try to understand things because they don't think about how it might impact other people. You know the one's I'm talking about: the people at work who won't apprise themselves of new rules or methods because they don't care about their job, and so the rest of the coworkers are stuck cleaning up their mess, but because they've been there forever, the bosses don't penalize them. Or the idiot drivers who just don't pay attention because they don't care there are other cars on the road. The kids who break store windows because they think it's funny, and then wonder why the costs of the products have to be raised.

And of course I don't need to explain ignorance.

The thing is, I'm terrible with dealing with both of these. I give major attitude, I get really sarcastic, and sometimes pretty mean. I can't help it. It's the whole 'I only care about me' attitude these people tend to generate that just, well, it grinds my gears to no end.

So while my violent streak might not be so violent these days, I'd be lying if I said my words can't get just as harsh.

#19 - I've been called a Post-Modernist Hippy on More Than One Occassion

The first time I was called a Post-Modernist Hippy, I was nineteen years old. The reason? Because I had written an essay bashing the fake hipocrisy of many Christians and pointing out that Jesus mission was to love others, and build relationships, not shove God's Word down their throats and acting like self-righteous, never sinning prats.

Each and every time following then that I was referred to as such, it always had something to do with my views on Christianity. Whether it was my outlook on Gay Marriage or homosexuality in general, sin and the transparency we should have, or my continuously vocalizing my disagreement with 'Door-to-Door Evangelism', there has always been at least one person ready to persecute me with such fervour that you would think I had just confessed to being the Anti-Christ.

Maybe I am a post-modernist hippy when it comes to my views, but if I am, so was Jesus.

I don't believe in ostracizing people because they're different, or sinners. I don't believe in taking the Bible and shoving it down people's throats while telling them that if they don't accept exactly what I'm telling them, they will go to Hell. Jesus never did that. And if as Christians, we are supposed to strive to be like Jesus, then why should we be doing the things that he didn't?

Jesus loved people, no matter what they were doing. He saved an adulturous woman from being stoned to death, telling the people that their sin was no less or greater than her own which gave them no right to judge her. He dined at the table of a man who he knew was ripping the people off and had become the cause for a lot of the additional poverty.

I struggle with the term Christian because of the negative things the world relates with it. But at the same time, I am full of pride to be one. Why should I let the people who misuse the term define what it means?

If believing that the way to a person's heart, whether or not they believe what you believe, is through building relationships with them makes me a Post-Modernist Hippy, then I'll gladly take that title.

Because you know what? I'm not interested in fitting the world's terms of what a Christian should be, I'm interested in what Jesus' terms are.

So you probably won't find me in neat little Church groups, spending all my time secluded with only Christians, and pretending the whole world is sunshine, lollipops and rainbows.

You will find me surrounding myself with real people, acknowledging that life is shit most of the time and that relationships are stronger than spewed words.

#20 - I can't help but love it.

While I still maintain that Fall is my favourite season, there is a sense of hope and new beginnings that comes with the Spring that I can't help but fall in love with.

I figure it probably has something to do with everything regrowing, blooming and becoming new again. I love seeing the new flowers break out amongst the brown and dead grass; blues and pinks, yellows and reds adding splashes of colour back into the dreary world.

Somehow, every year I forget what it's like to see trees with leaves on them, grass that's green and everything around me being full of life. I'm sure it has something to do with the six months of dead, brown and gray that lead up to it.

My mother is one of those people that cannot wait to get out and garden. Despite never understanding how she enjoys the tedious work of getting it all going, I have to admit that her gardens are absolutely gorgeous.

It's hard not to have renewed hopes and dreams, and add a bounce to my step when so much is reminding me that the world is full of second chances and thirds and fourths and even fifths.

So I guess all I'm trying to say is, I love the spring.

#21 - Capture a moment and it will last forever...

Most people are unaware that along with my huge list of writing and creative skills, photography is not only one of my favourite things, but I am also halfway decent at it. I would love to use my photography professionally, but capturing people is not one of my strong points, and I just don't know where I would sell the stuff I have. Plus, what I'm capable of doing is still somewhat limited by my basic point and shoot (though, don't get me wrong, they can be fantastic).

Eventually I want to get a Digital SLR. I'd love to do some sort of photo-journalism trip sometime. I used to do miniature photo-adventures, but since coming home to Orange-town, I just haven't had the same fire. It may be that I've lived in this town so long that I find it hard to see anything with an interesting eye. I'm going to challenge myself this summer to do some photo adventures though. As much as I know I won't come up with anything as interesting as the shots I had in Toronto, I might just surprise myself with what I get.

Until then, and of course pertaining to this random fact, I've posted a bunch of my favourite photos I've taken for your viewing pleasure!

Wash it all away, the pain of yesterday; bring hope on your tears that run over me.

I didn't realize how much I've missed the rain until our first Spring shower this past week. While everyone around me was complaining about the lack of beautiful weather, I found myself staring longingly out the window.

Today, it began to thunderstorm during church. As the thunder crashed over the volume of the sermon, I felt antsy. I wanted to be out there, listening and watching, covered in rain.

Rain has never depressed me. For as far back as I can remember, it has been one of my closest friends. It's been there to hide my tears when I didn't want anyone to know my spirits were crushed. It's been there when I've wanted to dance outside just because I could. It's been there when I've been overjoyed, and it's been there when I just wanted to partake in the strange solitude it provides.

It was there when I needed hope, needed the reminder of God's forgiveness being forever. It washed dirt off my arms and tears off my face, then ran away with it never to be seen again. The same way God takes the things we ask for forgiveness for, and puts them away to be forgotten.

I love everything about the rain, and I couldn't be more thankful that its back.

#22 - I've always been incredibly simple... even about the simple stuff.

No matter how many different, awesome types of ice cream you put in front of me, my number one choice will always, always be Vanilla. I've been this way for as far back as I can remember. I don't know why, I just prefer it to all the fancy flavours.

Another interesting point to note, chocolate will always be my second-last choice. I don't mind chocolate, but I'm not really a fan. In fact, I'd probably be okay if I never ate chocolate again.

My least favourite however by miles long is Tiger-Tail ice cream. I don't mind the orange part, but considering I hate black licorice the flavour of the black stripes just makes me gag.

Even the smell of it makes me nauseous.

Which is why I tend to stick to vanilla. I know I can never go wrong with the flavour. It's never too strong, too sugary, too bitter, too sour.. it's just right.

Of course, offer me some Reese Peanut Butter Cups with it and you'll never see me refuse.

#23 - I guess I've always been into the weird.

I'm not really sure what it is, but I've always found myself attracted to the weird, to the things most people aren't. Especially when it comes to my taste in men. For as far back as I can remember, it's always been the guys who were opposite the 'popular' that I liked and I was often mocked for it.

When most girls were fawning over JTT, Taylor Hanson and Leo Dicaprio (this is circa 1995), I was pining over a young and awkward Ryan Gosling. Back in the days when people who saw him were certain he'd be a nobody. I loved his geekiness and his gravitation towards the awkward. Of course, I did call that he would grow out of that phase and become one of the hottest young stars of our generation, but no-one believed me. But that's a whole other story.

This man was my first celebrity crush, and I followed everything he was in, never missing an episode of Breaker High or Young Hercules in order to catch a glimpse of him.

When I was thirteen, I confessed to my mother and some friends my next weird crush. By this time most girls my age were all about Nick Carter and Justin Timberlake (though, I can't deny I had their posters on my wall). But me? I had a huge crush on Nicholas Cage. Of course my girlfriends called me weird and a freak and my mother found it slightly disturbing that I was celeb-crushing on a man of that age, but I couldn't help it.

To be honest, Gone In Sixty Seconds was to blame for my strange crush on him. There was just something about him, in a leather jacket, calling himself a 'bad, bad man' that just won my heart. Of course, I'm sure a large part of that can be attributed to the fact that he was obsessed with my dream car, but it seems the crush has stuck with me over the years.

In the movie Stand By Me, it wasn't the generically good looking one that caught my attention, it was of course a young and awkward Wil Wheaton, and Corey Feldman.

And, perhaps what I consider to be my strangest crush, Raiden from Mortal Kombat (the first movie) and Mortal Kombat Conquest. I can't exactly tell you why I found this character so attractive, though I think it had a lot to do with his incredibly quirky sense of humour. Whatever the reason, this guy was my hugest crush for about two years in high school. While that may sound really strange, that I was crushing on a fictional character, at the time I was a huge anime freak. Which, if you know anything about anime nerds, the crazier ones have a nasty little habit of forming odd attachments to fictional characters.




And there you have some of the stranger crushes I have developed over my life, solidifying the fact that I am indeed a very odd little cookie.

#24 - My first kiss, was not a foot-popping romance.

I've always been a hopeless romantic. As such, I had a lot of hopes for my first kiss. Such high hopes that I held out until I was seventeen. I fought through the teenage hormones, the desires of that romantic connection that tv and books tried to put in my head.

I was dating this guy I never should have dated. We had nothing in common besides our love for basketball. We couldn't even hold a conversation. I was an academic. He... well, not so much. But he was the first guy to really pay a lot of attention to me.

I had all sorts of hopes and dreams for that first kiss. It was going to be life changing.

And then I caved. I'm still not sure why. Maybe it was that the guy had promised me marriage, and I, like the naive little Christian girl I was believed it. So I let go of the thing I held most dear at that point.

Some people say they remember their first kiss like it was yesterday, because it was so magnificent. Others, barely remember it because it was a spur of the moment chance happening.

For me? I only remember it as something I wish I had avoided. Because that precious thing I held so dear? Was left in a Wendy's parking lot with a guy who was too afraid for any PDA. There were no sparks, no magic glittery things, and no foot-pop. It was lifeless and bleak.

Ironically, I suppose it was a bit of a prelude to what the relationship would be.

And on that note, I leave you with a question following random fact #4. What was your first kiss like?

#25 - The things you may, or may not know...

As some of you may know, my 25th birthday is fast approaching. I've decided that in the days leading up to it, I'm going to do 25 posts of 25 things about me. 25 feels like an odd year. There are times where hitting that age terrifies me. There are times when I feel like I'm behind; like I should have done more with my life by this point. Others, I feel completely indifferent. It's just another year, after all. And there are times when I get excited, wondering what new experiences, journeys and adventures 25 will bring.

When you think about all the things that could happen... when I think about all the reasons I could have never made it to 25, I can't help but be grateful for being alive. For the opportunity to be 25, whether or not where I'm at in life is a good thing.

Because I'm alive. Despite it all, I am alive.

Which leads me to my first topic. This one is probably the heaviest one.

Some people live life never facing death until the end. I've faced it three times. Two, not by my own choice. One, because I thought it was what I wanted.

The first time, I cannot recall my thoughts or feelings. I was two, and my heart stopped. I can't tell you anything about it.

The second time, I was so afraid. Initially, I thought I wanted it. To feel the coldness of death, and then to have all my suffering, pain and agony gone. I felt unloved, unwanted and like I was the reason that everything went wrong in our family. But when the realization of death's nature dawned on me, the fact that it is final and irreversible, I remember nothing but fear. Realizing that I really didn't know where I was going to end up. I wasn't sure if heaven or hell was real, if there was just emptiness, or if there was more. And that scared the snot out of me. So much, that I remember begging a God I didn't even believe in to save me. To step in, prove the laws of the human body wrong, and let me walk away without injury or even a sign of what I had done. To save my life, even though to that point I had given Him no reason to want to. It wasn't hope, it wasn't trust. It was pure desperation. But that desperation saved my life.

The third time I cheated death, I didn't know I had until afterward. I was heading home during a blizzard, and spun out on a highway doing 50 km an hour... which wouldn't have been so bad, except it was into oncoming traffic, and  the person who hit me was already doing 60. I walked away with a few minor cuts and bruises, a burst blood vessel and a sore knee. Of course I was in shock and barely noticed the injury until I realized that walking was hard to do.

The paramedics told me later that they had been at an identical accident the night before, and no-one walked away. One was pronounced dead on the scene, and two were air-lifted to a Toronto Hospital.

It was the most terrifying moment of my life. But knowing that I could have died, maybe even should have? It put a lot into perspective for me.

So to be alive at 25? I think that's something to look forward to.

The Movie Reviews: National Treasure

Well hello my readers! I've joined yet another EPIC blogring. This one, is for BAD MOVIES. The theme this month is bad Nick Cage movies, and I have the honour and pleasure of hosting the incredibly amazing Coyote Rose. This girl is not only crazy hot, but she's also funny, intelligent and just wicked-awesome. If you want to check out her blog, and the review posted there, head on over to "Ugh Nic Cage, you've done it again!"

If you wish to see my review, you can find it on the lovely Christina in Wonderland's Blog. :)

But without any further adieu, I present you with Coyote!

Its time for Sucky Movie Awareness Ring for April! A BIG THANKS to Tabs for hosting my nonsense today. We opted to do bad Nick Cage movies this month, because lets be honest for every 1 good movie he does he manages to produce 4 crappy ones. So being a History Major, I felt like I had to do National Treasure. As a film, its really not one of Nick Cage's worst, but the plot is completely outlandish and honestly historically inaccurate (but then what film is historically accurate?). Although i do love Nick Cage trying to make Historians look cool.

Anyways lets just start with the major premise that the Founding Fathers had some secret treasure stashed away from the British. First, Freemasonry started in Britain so any Freemasons in America would have been part of the same sect as the two groups hadn't officially divided yet. 

Second, if the Founding Fathers had all that gold and jewels hidden away, why in the world did they not use it to fund the Revolution? I mean they had to take out loans from France and Spain to finance the war. Why would they do that if they had this hidden cache of gold and jewels at their disposal? Furthermore, the vast majority of the Founding Fathers (depending on who you consider a founding father exactly) were not Freemasons. Ben Franklin and John Hancock were in fact Freemasons, but there is no evidence that Thomas Jefferson, John Adams, or Richard Henry Lee were ever affiliated with the Freemasons.

Second, stealing the Declaration of Independence (which was not signed on July 4th but officially signed in August by Second Continental Congress) should be much much harder. I mean that thing is under like bulletproof glass, with guards 24/7.  Also there was entirely too much lighting in that room. Old documents like the declaration are kept in dark lighting as to not ruin the ink or pages.

Then there is that whole end section in Trinity church which burned to the ground in 1776, and was not rebuilt until after 1780. I'm pretty sure when the British burned that church to the ground they would have found the secret room. I mean they aren't completely inept. Then the second Trinity church was torn down in the 1830's because of structural damage from snow. I'm pretty sure between the second and third rebuilding of the church, the treasure would have been found or moved.

Also everyone in that movie needed a fricken haircut.