Dear 2011, Thanks for the ups, the downs, the smiles, the tears, the pain inducing laughs, the plane rides, the amazing family and possibly more amazing friends! Here's to a mind blowing 2012!! Happy New Years Everyone!!
I always feel all sorts of awkward doing this, but…
Some good souls out there have asked (so kind, so very, very kind) to meet up in dee city, and as I would not-so-secretly lurrrve to meet/touch/gaze at anyone who reads my rambles, I was wondering if anyone would like to join me for a calorie enhanced beer (or three) or water (no judgement here) at The Ginger Man(11 E and 36th St), on Tuesday, January the 3rd at shall we say? 8pm.
It’ll be all sorts of awesome, and casual, and omigoodness I’m going to meet people who live inside my computer - how exciting! So yes, I am rambling because I am nervous, but if you’re free as a bird next Tuesday, feel free to join.
I swear I’m cooler in real life (disclaimer: I’m not at all).
Ps. I am also running the Emerald Nuts 4 mile run on Dec 31 (look at me getting off to a good start) so let me know if you are!
I wish all my nails were all the same length. I wish I didn’t have any split ends. I wish I could wear backless tops. I wish I hadn’t eaten that. Or that. Or that. I wish I read more. I wish I slept less. I wish I had more money in my account. I wish I was in south east Asia. I wish I had a corporate job. I wish he hadn’t hurt me. I wish I hadn’t hurt him. I wish I didn’t stay up so late doing nothing. I wish I could spell better. I wish I took the time to proof read. I wish I watched less tv. I wish I lived in NYC. I wish I had never met him. I wish I lived close to her. I wish my sweater wasn’t so tight. I wish I had heels with red souls. I wish I hadn’t recently gained so much weight. I wish I could remember the name of that bubble bath. I wish I didn’t feel so lost. I wish facebook never introduced the timeline. I wish I understood Pinterest more. I wish I knew more. I wish I knew less. I wish I had gone for a run today. Or yesterday. Or any day. I wish poverty didn’t exist in the world today. I wish the world was a better place than it is. I wish I had volunteered in Bangkok. I wish there weren’t any homeless dogs. I wish I didn’t lose my hair elastics so much. I wish I got up when my alarm sounded. I wish I was better at writing. I wish my hair naturally dried nice. I wish I wasn’t so shallow. I wish I didn’t carry my weight in my stomach. I wish I could work in the States. I wish I had a boyfriend, or at least someone to lay next to at night. I wish I’ll one day get married. I wish I’ll one day feel true love. I wish my hair didn’t fall out so much. I wish Canada wasn’t this cold. I wish I wasn’t so honest the whole time. I wish I didn’t think about my weight. I wish I knew if he ever looked at my facebook profile. I wish I had a better memory. I wish I had worked harder at school. I wish I wasn’t so scared. I wish I knew everything would be okay.
I watched the entire first season of The New Girl in one sitting.
I’m really scared about Melbourne.
I’m really excited about Melbourne.
Sometimes I find myself holding my breath thinking about Melbourne.
It’s hard to look for an area to live, when you don’t know the city or where your job will be.
I have faith in myself, but sometimes it waivers.
Fresh snow sprinkled on tree branches is one of my favourite things.
The cold is one of my least favourite things.
This is a random post with no point.
I forgot what it’s like for your jeans to be tight #horrible #uncomfortable.
I’m going to take a bubble bath today
I am meeting a friend (Naomi - of travel fame) tonight for dinner. Last time I saw her we were in Thailand. Sigh…
I need a hair cut, but am too cheap to get one.
In first year residence I let a friend cut my hair. She told me she had been to “hair dressing school”. Turns out it was “hair styling school”. Which then turned out to be, “19th century hair styling” school.
I dream of the Himalayas.
It’s still really weird not having a job. A routine. Or working over Christmas. I’m trying to enjoy every moment of it (ie: being in bed at 11am), but I find myself constantly feeling guilty about it.
Right now I am hungry. Me thinks I’ll have eggs for breakfast.
I can feel it. It’s everywhere. True, the air has got a lot thinner in the last few years, but still, the judgement is there. My thoughts are this: I worked in a twenty-something male environment for four plus years and never met anyone through work. It was the epitome of where I expected to too, but nope, I never once did. Was it me? Maybe, but for the sake of this post, let’s pretend it wasn’t.
I remember this one time I stepped into an elevator with four, cute guys all around my age (this actually happened a lot). Yay! We’d have 32 floors to climb together. But not a word was ever spoken or glance was ever given. They were all either on their blackberries or staring at the tv screen.
The world has changed kiddies. It’s a lot harder to meet people than it used to be.
Sure, it’s not my ideal way to meet Mr. Prince Charming, but if it’s opening up my chances, why not? Exactly. Also (secret confession) I’ve always had a secret desire to try it. I suppose a tiny part of that desire is because of this blog… over the past three years people have emailed me I’m “relatable” (perhaps because of my honesty? and thank you very much btw), anywho, I wanted to see if it translated into an online profile.
I know the stigma is still there, and it does scare me sometimes (I’ve definitely been guilty of it too - truth be told it’s the reason I never could bring myself to have a profile in Toronto, because WHAT IF SOMEBODY I KNOW SEES ME ON IT?!?!), but at the same time I feel like I’m at a point in my life where I know who I am. So… (high-five for this, btw) you can judge me all you want, it won’t matter. It’s simply something fun, different, and entertaining for me, which could lead to a blissful, happy, Disney movie, type of love - the love we all secretly want and desire, or just a few good stories to one day tell. Who knows!
“Best online dating website in Australia.” Oh yes friends, that’s how and why I chose okCupid. Plus, it’s free (I’m not ready to spend money on this experiment of mine).
I had heard eHarmony was for older people (knock, knock marriage time), Plenty Of Fish was actually Plenty-of-Sex, which left Match.com (still may try) and okCupid. Really, I had no idea and chose one at random. as per Google’s advice.
And yes, I am located in “Melbourne, Australia,” and no, I am not necessarily looking for the father of my future (super cute) kids. It’s more just something fun, an experiment if you will, to meet people and go on dates!
SO FAR, SO GOOD?
It’s been about a month. Here my quick thoughts on it.
It’s harder than I thought it be.
It takes a lot (a lot!) of time and effort
It’s really easy to forget people
I don’t think the actual match percentage means anything
Everything is very public. (last time you signed on, if they read your message, who viewed your profile, etc) I like this.
I am way more shallow than I thought I was
There are shady guys out there. And there are good guys
It’s safe if you’re smart and not stupid/naive.
Oh Lordy, Lord. Just like most things, there are good ones, and then there are bad ones. Dear Men, Here are my rules:
Be wearing a shirt in your profile photo, please n’ thank you. I don’t care if you’ve got a 16 pack and biceps made of steel. Less is more gentlemen, less is more.
If you’re 30, do not say you’re interested in 18 year old girls. Ew.
Do not list ‘sex’ as one of the things you could not live without.
Do not send me a, “hey funky girl.. I love your smile.. you sound like a woman with stamina.. nice :)" (<— REAL msg btw) message.
You have to have actually read my profile. Include something in your message to prove this. (running? horses? ice-cream? beer?).
Spell. Check. For the love of God, spell check!!! (Hints: to vs. too // their vs. there // then vs. than.)
Don’t call me fat.
Have a photo.
Like dogs. Want children.
Must have a facebook page. With friends/history/photos.
Wait, WHAT? You want me to list my, “BODY TYPE?” Effffffff. Should I lie? Average? Holy crap. I am sweating. Fine, I’ll settle on “curvy,” because “full figured,” and “over-weight” just didn’t look as politically correct.
Truth bomb: I filled out my profile in roughly 3.2 seconds. True story. I just sat down and did it, and then didn’t look back. I have no clue how I come off, but I like to think it’s my true self. Who knows.
This is my “Summary”
What to say? What to say? Let me see… I should mention I’m Canadian (eh?), moving to Melbourne in January (the 28th!!). And despite procrastinating at everything in life, look at me getting a head start in the dating world. I love horses, dogs and traveling. Oh how cliche’! But it’s true. I quit my job in August, packed up my life and headed abroad, y’know, to see the world (Eastern Europe, Nepal, SE Asia).
Although I love traveling and adventure, the couch and pubs also hold a special place in my heart. So to counteract my love of staying in with wine and/or beer and/or hard liquor (hush you) and/or mass amounts of delicious food (I’m looking at you pizza), I run. I completed my 3rd marathon in September, and plan on doing the Gold Coast one in 2012. That makes me sound way cooler/more athletic than I am, so yea… I’ll just leave this summary with that.
I’d ask you for suggestions, but then my profile wouldn’t be, my profile, now would it? :)
Ugh. Photos. So… I am convinced I photograph way better than I look. Lots of people say this is a good thing, but it’s not. Trust me, it’s not. It’s better to be good looking in real life, not online. I photograph skinnier than I actually am too. Deceiving to my profile viewer. So yea, that’s scary as hell. It’s a huge fear of mine, meeting someone who thought I was skinny, and then seeing their eyes dart around my body and realize I’m not.
So yea… there’s that. I know it shouldn’t matter, but still, I’d then feel like shit about myself which is something I’d like to avoid. I actually tried to add my ‘love of food’ to my profile, and full body shots to let my suitors (wait, can I call them that?) know I aint Little Miss Bikini over here, but still, it was hard to choose.
I ended up choosing random facebook profile pics…
So yup, there’s that. Nobody has really sparked my serious interest yet (c’mon Cupid! Get your shaz togatha!), but then again, I’m not looking that hard. Truthfully I’m at such a funny point in my life I’m not sure any guy could stand my constant changing of plans, and pondering life thoughts…
But having an online profile has given me hope, and been a nice distraction from life. I get about 6 or 7 messages a day and most of what these Melbourne guys say is really flattering (who knows though, maybe I’m being taken in), which has actually given me more confidence!! So yea… this little, not-too-serious experiment of mine has given me hope, and in the dating world/game I find that’s what it’s all about when you’re a single-single-single lady. Hope! (peace out Kitty Kats, I’m gonna find myself a man!)
Christmas Biscottis (for people who don't like biscottis)
I don’t like biscottis. They’re hard, and usually not worth the calories. But-but-but, my mom makes these gems every year and despite not liking biscottis (or fake cherries), I seriously cannot get enough of these tasty Christmas treats.
3/4 Butter (softened) or margarine 2 cups Sugar 6 Eggs (use 5 if you easily taste eggys) 2 tsp Vanilla extract 2 tsp Almond extract 100g packet Slivered (or chopped) almonds 1+ cup Red/Green cherries (40 or 50 chopped) 4 cups Flour 4 tsp Baking powder Pinch Salt
In a bowl, beat together the margarine and sugar until light and fluffy (and light coloured). Beat in eggs, one at a time. Add slivered almonds, vanilla extract and almond extract
In a separate bowl, sift together the flour, baking powder and salt. Add cherries to the margarine and sugar. Gradually add the flour to the mix. Mix the flour in well.
Get a large greased baking sheet or a large baking sheet lined with parchment paper. Take about a quarter of the mix and shape into a log on the parchment paper (can use a knife to shape log). Flatten the log out. Repeat to make a second log.
Bake the logs at 180C for 25 to 30 mins. They should be light to medium brown.
Cool for about 30 mins. Use a sharp knife to slice the logs into ½ inch slices (so they can stand up nicely).
Then bake the slices at 150C for about 20 minutes. Take them out when they look how you like them (light to medium brown). Cool on a rack.
Make and bake a second set of logs with the rest of the mixture.
Makes 4 logs – about 60 to 70 biscotti. Store in a sealed container or freeze.
Note – very easy to make and you can use other flavours at other times of the year. Disclaimer - they will make you fat Warning - they tend to migrate to one’s buttock regions, but they’re so worth it (promise) and make superb gifts!
This is embarrassing and makes me look like a terrible person, but (total honest confession here) I used to be embarrassed by my family’s Christmases. Isn’t that awful? I know. Actually, it stemmed from the invention of facebook, tumblr, twitter etc —>being allowed into other people’s Christmases. Suddenly I was comparing my Christmas with hers, his and yours.
Everybody seemed to be have a million and one cousins, crazy aunts and uncles, eggnog, lots of eggnog, and were all jolly and festive getting drunk around a big, old, real Christmas tree. A huge beautiful Christmas tree that looked like it was from the pages of House and Home: Christmas Edition. And of course the tree’s base was always surrounded by a huge number of presents for the large number of people in this big, beautiful, home. Their celebration would go on for days, and there I was, sitting at my computer —> Refresh. Refresh. Movie. Doing nothing. Refresh. Food. Refresh.
My family’s Christmases were small. Are small. Just five people. Well, now six with my sister’s husband. (A consequence of moving from South Africa to Canada.) We open gifts in the morning, usually knowing what every gift is beforehand (in an attempt to save money and not buy useless things for each other). Then we’d go for our Christmas walk with the dogs, eat a [always very delicious] Christmas dinner, and then debate whether to play boggle, cranium, or watch Love Actually yet again (if by God’s good grace an argument over something stupid hadn’t erupted). Then it be over. Our small, little gathering of just the six of us would be done. And we’d all retreat to our respective corners of the house or world, and move on. Christmas would be over and I’d be back on the Internets creeping other people’s big days from the comfort of my room.
Envy. It’s a terrible, terrible thing which absolutely deserves its spot as one of the seven deadly sins. Essentially it’s counting other people’s blessings, not your own. And that’s what I did for many, many years. Sad, really, that is.
But luckily over the years (through time and simply growing up) I’ve come to love my family’s little gatherings. Love them. And appreciate every moment (good or bad) with them. After all, I took a 23 hour flight home for this one, and every second of that uncomfortable flight was worth it. Every second.
I love how it’s just the six of us. I love the potatoes my mom makes only at Christmas time. I love the table cloth she made just for Christmas so many years ago. I want to be buried with my hand stitched stocking, I love it that much. And the people. My people. My little family, which I would take a bullet for without hesitation, I love them with all my heart. Then there’s the quality streets that are hidden in random places. And the chocolate ornaments that hang from the tree. The stuffing. And peas. Well, I love all the food at Christmas time (obviously). The coming together. The eating at the fancy table. The homemade desert, and the plastic wine glasses we use despite being adults. I even love our fights and arguments, and constant communal battles not to eat cheese. They are my people, and I’m not sure what I’d do without each of them.
My Christmas this year was perfect. I still saw big, beautiful, gorgeous, Christmas photos all around (tumblr/facebook/twitter), but not even a tiny part of me wanted to be anywhere but here. Anywhere but home. All the wondering whether I made the right decision coming home early was put to rest. I belonged here this Christmas. And Christmas 2011 will always hold a special place in my heart.
you know those days where you wake up with no alarm clock, the sun streaming onto your bed? you then glance at the time, and although you’re not tired you still stay in your cocoon of warmth for an undisclosed amount of time. eventually you reach for your laptop and watch three episodes of your favourite tv show. you’re a season behind - excellent. the main character finally gets together with the boy you’ve wanted her to, and your heart swoons because you have become so invested in a made-up character on tv.
eventually you head to your hot shower smiling for no reason, and just stand there enjoying the warmth till you figure someone will surely come looking for you. you let your hair air dry, because why not? and then put on a pretty dress, your favourite coat, hat and mitts and head out the door to your favourite starbucks. you brought your laptop with you to work on your resume, and casually start looking for jobs when you (obviously) get sidetracked into your usual cycle of facebook, twitter, tumblr, and yes, okCupid. a nice message awaits you there, from a cute boy too, "by the way, you’re way to good looking to be on here lookin’ for love. Get out their and meet the man of your dreams." too bad he can’t spell, but still, so nice of him to write that. once again, you find yourself smiling today.
you then open your gmail and there lies an email from that boy in Seattle who made your heart skip a beat. finally (with great persuasion) he’s emailed you his first short story. you are the second person to ever read it. you’re nervous, because what if it’s bad? but it’s not, at all actually, if anything it makes you wish he was in that starbucks with you. you’d then express how his words and thoughts touched you. (email praise never sound as genuine).
so there you are, sitting in your usual starbucks, procrastinating as you always do. the last time you were sitting in that seat your adventures had been far and few between, but now you have enough adventure, spontaneity, and travel stories to fill a book. you look to your right, and there it sits, your visa card waiting to be used. where to next? that’s the question of the hour, isn’t it? eight tabs. you have eight tabs open all suggesting ideas, but you settle with where your heart has always desired and wanted to go. australia. melbourne to be exact. london can wait for now…
today is a good day. today was a me day. no, i didn’t eat perfectly or go for a run, but i found myself so content with the little life i lead. content with my place in the world. despite actually being homeless, jobless, boyfriend-less (meh), and somewhat at a loss as to what to do with my life. but. i am happy. in the next few weeks huge decisions will be made that are going to shape the rest of my life. it’s scary, exciting, and exactly what i needed. a year ago I was stuck in a job and a world i felt i didn’t belong to. and although i currently find myself in limbo land, i have no doubt that despite being lost i am paving my way, one decision at a time, to the place in this world i belong.
This post is brought to you by random boys from OkCupid who have sent me messages in the last 24 hours.
28 / M / Straight / Single
Probably very different from what you’re used to, being far from family and all (and the change in seasons).
Anyway, I’m just here to offer a gift of warmth. (Physical warmth as it were, if you feel the need to snuggle up with anyone under the covers this Christmas).
Again, Merry Christmas :)
38 / M / Straight / Single
You sound cool!
Would love to meet you. Especially if you’re lonely this Christmas season.
27 / M / Straight / Single
hows ur night/day going?
I have to say reading ur profile made my laugh… unfortantly it makes mine look like, to put it simply ‘shit’ lol. You’ve inspired me to zest it up…
I myself am a runner allthough 7k is where i hit my wall, maybe together we can challenge ourselves, hopefully not looking like tools in the process…lol or perhaps challenge ourselves in bed one day. Take that as will (:
Anyway its getting late look me up and if you have any questions shoot me a line… personally i prefer catching up in person.
—— Oh. My. God. What the bollocks is this Christmas crap? Just because I’m on okCupid at 6pm on Christmas Eve does not mean I’m lonely. Or desper… wha? wait. Oh shut up you, I’m waiting for dinner to finish cooking, before watching Love Actually with the delicious-going-to-my-ass cookies I baked today.
Oh crap, I am so dying alone, aren’t I? With lots of cats too. When I’m a dog person.
I was right around the corner from my house tonight, driving home on this dark, cold, December evening when my headlights caught the reflection of a runner. She was running up a hill; smoothly, swiftly, effortlessly. One step at a time.
I sat at the lights and watched her. The hill was huge, so huge, but there she was, her reflective gear flashing to the beat of her pace. Left. Right. Left. Right.
I sat there with my heater on full, scarf around my neck, and winter coat on, stunned by this person moving past me. That is so impressive - to leave your house when it’s so dark and cold out, and especially at this time of year. Wow. Good for her.
Then suddenly I realized that was once me…
I’ve run that same hill many times. The last time I ran its path was for the Berlin marathon’s final hill training session. Ten hill repeats, I believe it was.
That thought made me pause for a moment.
Because with all my being I could not believe I had once done that. That I had not only once run that hill ten times in a row, but how I had gone on to run three full marathons, four halfs, and gone for insanely long runs in the dead of winter, where my water bottles even froze solid.
I was impressed with this anonymous runner, but now suddenly, in my warm car, I was in awe of myself.
But running is not like riding a bike.
I could not run that hill right now. Hell, I’m not sure I could run a mile right now. Square one, that’s where I am, that’s my spot, on the couch, over there. The world of running seems so scary to me, and the entire running world (especially in the winter) seems like another world a way. Another world I don’t belong to… but somehow, I once did.
I am determined to get back into the world of running. That, I really, really am.
Tomorrow I’ll go for a run. My first run since the Berlin marathon (3 months ago). I don’t want to. I know right now it’s going to be cold, it’s going to be uncomfortable and it’s definitely going to be hard. Really, really hard. But still, I am going to go.
And I won’t be going for the run to lose weight. Or to look better. Or to lose some of the jiggle on my ass. Instead I’ll be going for the run simply to accomplish something that right now seems so hard. To accomplish something that seems so impossible.
My distance won’t matter. My speed won’t matter. And the number of times I have to walk (fine, stop) won’t matter. But what will matter is this; tomorrow when I go to bed, when the moon inevitably slips into its place, is that I simply left my house to do something good for myself, despite it being hard, and annoying, and cold, and uncomfortable, it’ll simply matter that I accomplished something that the day before I viewed as impossible.
Tomorrow I’ll run.
Tomorrow I’ll prove to myself that I can do it (winter weather and all), and that I’m just as capable to do it as that anonymous woman running up that hill.
It’s surreal sitting here at the Bangkok airport. A 23 hour flight ahead of me (I swear I’m going the long way around the world). And 3 incredible months behind me. Part I is complete. Part I because Part II starts soon. January soon. That’s when the next huge (huge, people, huge) phase begins. A new city. A new job. A new routine. A new permanent bed.
A new life. Whoa.
I am not ready to leave Asia. At all, actually. It was a complete irrational decision on a down traveling day that placed this one-way ticket in my hand. Irrational, but good. I am surprising my mom for her birthday. And Christmas. She wanted me home so badly. It’s my gift to her. Originally being from South Africa, my family has really small Christmases in Canada. So every body counts. My body counts. I know it’ll mean so much to my mom I’m coming home. So I am. (A (very cheap) $700 ticket from Bangkok to Toronto also helped the case.)
Berlin, Croatia, Nepal and South East Asia were spectacular, there is no doubt about that. It’s better to leave on a high note, right? Right. I want to stay, I do. I want to book a flight to Burma, then head to Chiang Mai to meet that guy I liked so much (he invited me). I want to meet up with old friends. And keep making new ones. But it’s done now. My bags are checked. And here I sit, at the Bangkok airport, about to board a plane home…
I love my family, my friends, and my home in Toronto, but I truly am so sad to be leaving the best few months of my life behind. I rarely (as in never) use the word ‘epic,’ but really that’s the only word that comes to mind to describe my entire trip.
They’re boarding my flight now. And off I go, into the abyss of the sky and the world, and then finally, back home.
Boy: I was going to make a sarcastic comment about one of your pics… but then I was like “shit, she’s really working that black dress.” So, there you have it; honesty.
Me: I’m intrigued. Sarcastic comment?
Boy: Oh yeah! It was where you say something about how running counteracts the effects of your eating habits, and I was going to say something like “looks like running didn’t really pay off…”, but yes, then I saw the black dress photo, and I was like “hold up, she’s kinda working that”. And yeah, I’m white, but when I think that shit, *I say it in my mind in a black voice*. Know what I mean? I’m sure you talk with your neck and snap your fingers, too.
Cut n’ pasted folks. I couldn’t make this up if I tried. File under: complisult.
And fyi, he was talking about the dress in this photo, which I only uploaded so I wasn’t the cliche only-head-shots-she-must-be-fat type of girl. Huh.
Ready, y’all? We’re going point form at it. Who’s excited? Answer: You are! You are!
So, remember that bright, pink, awesome outfit I wore? Well that night was all sorts of debaucherous (and fun). Seriously. There are stories from that night not appropriate for Little Blog… although - I fully intend on posting some of the photos soon, and making leude innuendos to things that happened. KIDDING (as I see Naomi panic from the other side of the world).
So I drank myself to the wee hours of the morning, each and every day over Full Moon (which is just code for: drunk party). And as we all know (way too well), I am not 22 anymore, but actually 27, which means post my body pretending it was young, it needed some serious me-me-me recuperating time. And yes, my good friends, this is exactly what I’ve been doing the last 3 days. Nothing. Absolutely Nothing. I sleep. I read. I eat. I beach. I nap. I beach. I nap on the beach. I read on the beach. I get ice-cream on the beach. Then, when night comes, I watch $1.50 movies on my laptop or stalk people on facebook. Brilliant. Life is brilliant.
Last week I met a guy I really liked (don’t think I’m a slute, pleasenthankyou, other boy knows all this, and I was single). There was something about him. My type to a T. But also something new to him. So, me being me, made myself a plan; I just had to meet him. Problem was, he was with another girl. A beautiful, blonde, cute, skinny (egads… I always compare. whatever you do too) girl. But as I had had one too many drinksbuckets, alcohol gave me the va-va-voom confidence to make a move (seriously. whoami?!). I saw him staring at me. And quickly moved in. Friendly, charming, “I lost my friend” (true story, btw), was I. And then within 5 minutes American Boy, Irish-Girl and I were chatting up a storm. They had just met 40 minutes before. Totally fair game. Right?!? And then (then!!!) without me even doing anything, American Boy leaned in and whispered, You’re the most beautiful girl on the beach. I’ll meet you behind that sign in 2 minutes? Sold! To the man with green eyes. I nodded (shut it you. it wasn’t like that). He made up an excuse. I continued talking to Irish Girl. Then said I needed the washroom. ((She’ll never have any idea - at least, I hope))). I KNOW, RIGHT?! Low move. ((or, as someone recently told me, “c**t move”)). But. But there was something about this guy. Something I needed to know. More than he’s sexy, and hot. And more than I was drunk happy. I just wanted to talk him. So we left the main party beach, and went for a long (re: 3+ hour walk) down the beautiful beach lit by the full moon. Eventually it started to pour. So we escaped to his little cottage-thing, conveniently close by (come to think of it, probably done on purpose on his part). It was all very PG (not even 13). Don’t worry. I wouldn’t write about it, if it wasn’t. But I liked him, a lot. His sense of humour. His beliefs. His background. His stubble. Good God, his stubble… I ended up seeing him again. And then we parted ways; as all travelers who meet do. But then today he sent me a simple facebook message saying, “I loved meeting you.” Which obviously sent me into swoon mode. But. But I’ll never see him again. Which is fine. I knew that. But the point to this ramble is this, I hope I marry someone, that when we’re 90 and grey and crippled, my heart still flutters like it did for that boy on the beach, under the big, bright, full moon.
In other news. I have so many issues these days, I think I have to be single for my sanity. Seriously, I am too selfish right now in life to be with another person.
So today, when 5pm hit, I realized I hadn’t spoken to anyone! Oh the life of a quiet traveler, but luck was on my side as a kind gentleman (of England fame who I met two days ago) knocked on my door to see if I wanted to eat dinner with him and his friend. Yes and please.A social gathering for three? Count me in!! I ate too much, but so the story goes…
SO, I am utterly obsessed with The Vampire Diaries. Seriously, it’s bad. So bad, I was talking to this hot guy (see. above) and I sincerely hoped he’d bite my neck, Vampire-style .OHMYGOD TV HAS BRAINWASHED ME.
I am incredibly excited to give my Christmas cards this year. Wait, you’ll see why…
Christmas. Oh Christmas. The most wonderful time of the year. Buutttttt sadly I am so not in the spirit this year. Like, at all. Firstly, how does Santa operate with sunshine and humidity? Pretty sure his sleigh needs snow. And I’m pretty sure the old man would over-heat to death in that Santa suit over here. See? Not in the spirit at all. It just doesn’t feel like Christmas. I need snow-snow-snow!
I saw a scale on the street today, outside of a 7/11 and I seriously debated paying to weigh myself in public. I want to know my weight so badly… should we place bets now? Higher? Lower? The same?
I’m still finding it hard to adjust to the Thai culture here. From their big cities, to small. On the outside the culture is so conservative, yet the second the sun goes down, the Lady Boys and Prostitutes come out to play with the western world’s dirt, old, men. I stare those men in the eyes when I see them, and usually just feel sorry for them.
This. This is the best website ever. And I don’t even like law.
Confession. I signed up for online dating. YOU DID NOT (<— you). OH YES I DID (<— me). WHY ARE WE YELLING? (<— you) I don’t know… (<—me). It’s everything bizarre I thought it would be and them some. Hi, I’m Liz. Look at me! I’m sooo cool. I’m sooo cool. Please like me. Please be impressed by me. Very weird. But I think it’s gonna be FUN. And guess who’s gonna hear all about it? You Are! You are! (note: I just signed up out of curiosity. I am not actively looking).
I miss running. Man, I’m gonna regret saying that soon. But really, I do. The schedules, the routine, the feeling after the run. I need it. I want it. I just can’t get enough of it. WHO AM I?!?
The Hunger Games Part II exists nowhere on the island I’m on. I know this, because I literally stalked every book store looking for it.
Tag Under: #FatGirlProblems. My tan lines are awful. My legs are super tanned, as are my north of my boobs, but my actual boobs, rump, ho-ha, and stomach? super super white. I look ridiculous naked. Good thing no one ever sees me in the nude.
It’s my mom’s birthday on Monday (the 19th!!) I want to surprise her so badly, but I don’t know how. Balloons? Flowers? E-Card? all so lame… Wait, I have an idea… but mums the word for now (PUN!)
It’s 12:51am right now. I need to snooze because I have a very busy beach day tomorrow. Then, to my horror, I’m flying into Bangkok tomorrow night.
Or on buses, or trains, or anywhere else seats go back. Why? Because I feel too bad for the stranger sitting behind me. It doesn’t matter if everyone has their seat back (including the person in front of me), or that I’m twisting and turning in discomfort. I just never put my seat back because I feel sorry for John Doe behind me.
Ridiculous, right? I know.
I am probably one of the world’s biggest pushovers, always trying to please others, always doing what others want me to do. Never what truly pleases me. Never what makes me happy. But don’t get me wrong, I don’t live my life in a constant state of misery-in-the-quest-to-make-others-happy state of mind, because generally I am very easy going. Sure, that works. Yup, I can do that too. Okay, that sounds great. Most of the time I just go with the flow, which actually suits me better.
But then there are times I need to stick up for myself. Do what I want. Exactly, what I want. Not what they want, not what she wants, and especially not what he wants.
I tried with him. I did. He tried too. We both tried. But it wasn’t meant to be. I wanted so badly to please him, not hurt him, never taking a moment to stop and breath. Wait, what do I want? I was always asking myself questions, then answering them how I thought he’d want them answered. And inevitably, it got messy, and I lost my direction trying to please him, not listening to my soul.
I so desperately wanted to like him more than I did. No, I wanted to love him. But it wasn’t there, and even though I knew that from the start, I tried, and tried, and tried. I wanted to please him. It didn’t really matter what I wanted. But that ‘it’ factor, I so look for, and so desire, it just wasn’t there for us, no matter how much I tried, or what I did.
It was no ones fault it didn’t work out. But my fault it dragged on so long. Questions with no answers. Decisions being made, but the opposite ones of what I wanted. What I needed. What does he want? How can I make him happy? Maybe he’s right, it just takes time. That’s what the past few months have been. Ups. And downs. And the right decisions not being made. And me doing what I thought he wanted. Never sticking up for myself.
Our skype call was 1 hour, 1 minute and 53 seconds. It’s over now. We’re going our separate ways. Finally, I was honest. I feel very sad, yet so relieved. It’s absolutely for the best. I was that girl with him, playing back and forth, simply because I was always trying to please. Never following my thoughts, never following my heart. I never quite knew what to do.
Over the last few months I’ve learnt two very valuable lessons. Number 1: just because I don’t know/get/understand my own feelings, doesn’t give me the right to mess with others. I hurt him. A lot. Unintentionally playing games with him. And for that, I am truly sorry. And lesson number 2? I must always (a.l.w.ay.s.) do what makes me happy. Always follow my heart, and unfortunately, if that means someone getting hurt, I have to suck it up, bite the bullet, and just say how I feel.
He’s a wonderful person, and with all my heart I wish him the best. I know he’ll find his happy ending, nice guys always do.
I’ve been a little quiet on the home front lately, mostly because, ummm, let’s just say I’m officially going through my 1/4 life crisis. Tears are constantly sitting behind my eyes, and all I pretty much want to do is go home. I’ve officially banned myself from The Facebook, it’s just too hard to see my home crew’s lives in status and/or photo form. Should we file that under #firstworldproblems? Because yes, I am aware of what I am saying.
Naomi headed back to Boston yesterday, which is probably a huge motivator for my mood today. It was so (so!) great having her here, and now suddenly, so (so!) sad having her gone. I also didn’t get the volunteer position (working with dogs in Bangkok) I was really hoping for. Very sad. I suppose I just feel really lost. It’s the first time on my trip I don’t know what to do with myself. Or where I want to go. And. I know a total of zero people on the island I’m on, so yea… it gets really lonely during the days.
My money is also lower than I thought it would be at this point, and I am in constant state of fighting myself not to eat. Seriously, food is not my friend, food is not my friend. Maybe if I say it enough, I’ll actually believe it. I blame my perpetual state of ‘hunger’ on being with no other human-beings for two days (I am a serious people-person). Usually when you stay in hostels, there are other people in your ‘dorm,’ with you, but for three nights I “splurged” (US$27/night) and got my own room. I needed my own room. To cry. To skype. To make life decisions. To sleep in. Not feel judged. Really, just to be. But now I’m alone, with no one to talk to, except you, Little Blog. That’s all.
I’m finding myself questioning everything lately. And quite frankly, it’s really annoying. I’m second guessing everything I think. Everything I do. All the things I’ve planned for the next few months. What if. Deadly words. I’ve become unable to ever make a decision. Out of fear it’s simply the wrong choice.
My mom emailed me today, “I think you are on the road to sorting things out. You just have to pick a direction and go with it.” Her email helped. I hope she’s right. I realize I’m getting life experiences while traveling and a lot of people would love to do what I’m doing (and you should btw, as I wouldn’t exchange it for anything), but as much as I’ve been ‘living the life’ (so to speak) the last few months, I keep seeing people back home accomplishing things. Engagements. Promotions. Marathons. Babies. Advancing their lives, and, well, I find myself getting jealous. Ridiculous, right? I don’t know. Maybe I’m just craving accomplishment (damn how I wanted that volunteer job).
Christmas is coming! and with it, fabulous things. At least, I hope. And then of course there is New Years Eve, which means new beginnings. A new slate. A new wonderful and fresh year. It’s true, I did indeed fail at all three of my NYE resolutions, but as always, 2012 will be another year to try. To try. I’m in a perpetual state of trying in my life. Never actually accomplishing. Just try-try-try trying. I’m actually so aware of this, it hurts. But 2012, here’s to hope…
It’s late here. I should sleep. I always write stupid life stuff when I’m tired. Exhibit? The above. Really sorry about that, btw. Tomorrow I’ll try upload some photos of Happy-Liz, we shall see.
You decide to travel, so you do. You choose your countries, your cities, the places you want to go, the things you want to see. You want an adventure. An escape from your real life. You want to see the world! Be part of something.
And so you book it. Say your goodbyes. And leave. You walk through the airport gates. Go through the security check. And board your plane.
Then you anticipate. And wait… And move through the system. Whether you like it, or not. One country at a time. One day at a time. Trying to be unique, but doing the exact same thing all previous travelers have done. And all future travelers will do. It’s easy to say break away from the worn path, but easier said than done. You’re a fish out of water. You don’t know anything. Neither does anybody else. And so word gets around about the best places to go. The best things to see. And of course, just like everybody else, you want to go.
And then suddenly you’re standing on a beach, nearly unable to see the actual beach. Why? Due to the boats and people, of course. Because of all the tourists. All the other tourists. The other tourists just like you. So you can’t be mad. Or annoyed. Even though you want to be. You are just like them. No different. You planned your trip. As they planned theirs.
And so the tourists eventually take over. Money will win over the environment in these countries. Every time. And that beautiful spot you wanted to see? It’s gone. Killed. By people, the people just like you. So there you stand, looking out at the sea, with boats, and engines, and people everywhere you look…
My friends, it was so, so sad. The below are pics from “The Beach.”
This post isn’t about the beauty of Thailand’s beaches. Although, they must have once been stunning. In fact, this post is to say to those who want to come, not to. Or at least, to warn you. They’re so over run. They’re not pleasant at all. Line ups. And waiting. And being shuffled through the crowd. It’s so sad, but true.
I’ve seen a lot of things on my trip so far. And the only consistent thing, found in each, and every place, is how tourism is ruining the beauty of the world. And sadly yes, this includes my Everest Base Camp hike. There’s not much else to say. Really, it’s just my observation. Something I’ve just noticed that’s making me sad, and something that was really (really!) apparent when I went to that infamous beach, I was so looking forward to.
Here a few photos strategically taken to avoid the crowds…