Romantic Ramblings

It has recently come to my attention that as much as I talk about being content and rather happy with being a single woman, I do talk an awful lot about relationships. Not only do I talk a lot about them, but I'm starting to think perhaps I secretly want one. Not that I think one can simply obtain a relationship like some item on a grocery list or acquire one when the craving arises; we're not discussing chocolate here. Perhaps a better suited phrase would be I am secretly eagerly awaiting the hopefully inevitable pursuit of being wooed. Winded, but probably more accurate.

It is often confusing though. I view myself as being a strong, secure and independent human being, someone able to withhold petty human emotions like romantic love. Obviously, the sense of security I have within myself is skewed, and in a big way. I don't believe people are meant to withhold affection for the sake of independence, whether it be of a platonic or romantic nature. If that were the case, we really wouldn't need other people in our lives, would we? And being a person who literally lies on my floor if I'm apart from people and civilization for more than two days, people are clearly important to me and possibly my mental well-being too. 

However, I am also one who enjoys bucking the trend. Example: in grade three, I vowed to always detest horses, dolphins, and the flute due to the popularity of those things within the female portion of my classmates. To this day, I am still wary of horses, claim that dolphins are evil, and think the flute is ridiculous (no offense to anyone who plays the flute or has a soft spot for either animal). And a seemingly reoccurring trend among my friends, classmates and peers are relationships, and poor ones at that. True, the older I get, the more friends I have who have been lucky enough to meet amazing significant others who better them, encourage them, and truly love them and I am constantly grateful to know wonderful couples like that. I suppose somewhere, deep within my proud and rebellious heart, I believe that if I can buck the trend as long as possible, than I've officially made it to Saint-like Maturity. As I continue to write this post, I'm realizing more and more how ridiculous this whole thing is, which is probably a good thing to realize now rather than 25 years down the road when I'm a bitter and cynical single still.

It's funny to think that my mother was married at my age, technically even a few months younger than I am now. Funny, and a definite check on where I am in life. I mean, my mother and father clearly had the maturity, the wisdom and the deep love that only a married couple can have by this age, something that I still feel so far away from. So, perhaps in my pursuit for utter independence, I've actually been pushing away the idea and reality of true commitment, which is ultimately the biggest sacrifice one can make and perhaps the truest mark of Saint-like Maturity, as commitment, whether to God or a person, takes an incredible amount of faith and trust. Perhaps in a roundabout way, I've been regarding relationships in a far more childish way than I care to admit...though I suppose this post just admitted it for me. 

Before I end this long and convoluted post, let me reassure Readers that I have no intentions of trying to make up for wrong thinking by latching on to the nearest Available around me; that would be stupid, plain and simple. Don't expect to see any changed Facebook statuses in the near future either. However, now that I've shared my thoughts and am perhaps a bit more open to the overall idea of romantic relationships, maybe the next time my folks mention "grandchildren" I won't scoff quite as loudly! Lots of love (the platonic kind, I mean) to you all!

Tis the Season of Over-sized Sweaters and Pumpkin Spice Lattes

It's official: Fall is upon us. Though technically we have another two weeks till the calender declares it Autumn, but we all know that Fall begins as soon as the first Pumpkin Spice Latte is consumed (with long-awaited gusto, I might add). So here I sit, drinking my third Pumpkin Spice of the Season, attempting to study for my first test this semester whilst being serenaded by Diana Krall. And while I sit here, I find myself thinking about my future. Though I seem to worry and fret about my future on a daily basis, I now find myself languishing the thought of being twenty-eight (I never said it was a "distant future"), sipping the first PS Latte of the season, smiling and loving life, perhaps with an equally life-loving man next to me! 

The fact is I really have no notion about what the future looks like, and I'm certain any thoughts I may have are WAY off base! So occasionally, I enjoy day-dreaming about life and the possible good that could ensue. I'm certain I'm not alone in this either. Admit it, at some point I'm sure everyone reading this has sat back and wondered, "Hmmm...what if...?"

This is my What If moment. And I am enjoying it immensely! Soy Pumpkin Spice Latte and all!

There really is no rhyme or reason behind this post, as is the case with most of what I write. Meh...my grade nine English teacher would be appalled (Remember...TRANSITION!), but I enjoy simply typing sometimes. Meaningless as these scribbles (or rather, pixels) may be, there something to think on, something to savor, something to smile at. 

Speaking of smiling, here's a few old photos of my dog, Rolo! Enjoy and Goodnight!

Trapped in the Kitchen...and paying tuition to be there!

Before I begin, apology for my lack of recent updates. Not that, I suspect, my infrequent posts give reason for anyone to be dismayed (save perhaps my Mother), but I apologize all the same!

It's true...or rather, it's TRU! I am a student once more! Not to be dramatic, but I never thought I'd live long enough to see the day I willingly returned to school. But, alas, the time has come! I am currently enrolled in Professional Cook Training Year 1, which sounds far more glamorous that it is. Though there is some theory, most of the course is practical, hands-on work experience, which I am so looking forward to. As first year students, we will be cooking for the University's cafeteria, open for both breakfast and lunch. Early mornings and off early enough in the afternoons to have plenty of time to work outside of school. I will pretty much have no life outside of a kitchen for the following months. My future husband will be very pleased indeed...

I confess that I was less than thrilled upon arrival today. Though some of you reading this know me as a funny, occasionally obnoxious, lovely lass, I have to say this: I DETEST CROWDS! Especially crowds where I am new and have no immediate connection to anyone or anything. It honestly makes me want to run for the hills. I literally had to force myself to even introduce myself to people today. I can't blame it all on being exhausted (barely a lick of sleep last night) or personality traits. I can say I was beyond nervous for the first hour or so, for no apparent reason either. It's not like the students and faculty are out to kill me (as far as I know...). 

If anything, the thing that reaffirmed that I'm not in fact insane for enrolling was this: I'm really not here for me. Listening to the instructor talk about how food creates an experience for people, that you can go anywhere with these skills, that in the kitchen it's all about a "Family"...I remembered that I'm here for people. I'm here to meet people in my course who have incredible passion and to be inspired by them and be inspiring for them. I'm here to learn from my instructors, all of whom I'm sure have fantastic stories and who will instill in me a passion for creating something beautiful (and delicious). And I'm also here because I want to bless people in years to come; Not only by the food I make for others, but by teaching others skills they can use to bless their friends and families, skills to help people get back on their feet and move forward in life. I want to use my passion for people to fuel my passion food, not the other way around. 

So, I look forward to learning how to filet a fish, make choux pastry properly and put together a divine product. I look forward to it because, for me, it's not about the food itself, but rather about the people who enjoy it and are with me to see it through.

Hope this sentimental and rather sappy blog post makes you smile! And think, as you read this today, tomorrow, or months down the road...what skills and passions do YOU have that you use to bless others? And are you, indeed, blessing others with them? So go out there and make someone's day today! Lot's of Love to one and all!

Mind the Gap

When I was still living in England, I had to take the train to get anywhere out of town. Although skeptical of public transport at first, I soon grew to love the train system. The one thing that I noticed right away was that as the train pulled into the station, the loud speakers would crackle to life. "We are approaching __________ Station. Please mind the gap between the train and the platform edge" would echo throughout the station and train itself. Sure enough, as the doors opened up onto the platform, you'd look down to see a six inch gap between the train and the tracks below. Making sure to take a hefty step from door to platform, I'd follow the traffic of people flowing out and go about my business.

Now, one week ago, I was in church for the first time in awhile. Though I love my new job, it does take up much of my week, including early Sunday afternoons. This Sunday was no exception, and I was only able to stay for the beginning of church. As the sermon started, I realized that the topic for the past couple week had been "The Life You Live". My pastor began his sermon, and as he spoke, I realized how much what he was saying resonated with me. One thing that really struck a chord was when he asked the congregation, "Are you living the life you want to live?" He followed that thought by asking, "Is there a gap between where you want to be in life and where you are?" These questions have led me here, to this blog post.

I've been mulling those questions over in my head now for a week. Granted, I've really been putting off thinking about them since coming back to Canada. But the image of a gap is what really hit me this time around. Let me put it this way:
If I look at where I'm at as being a train platform, and where I want to go as being getting on the train, then I would say I'm still sitting on the platform, trying to wave down the passing trains. Sometimes I feel like the gap between me and the train I want is immeasurable, a distance almost greater than the journey itself. Other times, it seems like things are going my way and the trains are lined up to take me to my next destination. 

It's a funny thing, waiting for wherever you're going next in life. It's also hard to not be so forward-focused that you miss out where you are now. It's difficult when I know where I WANT to go, but going back and asking God where do I NEED to go. As much as I love to think I know best, I don't. So I keep trying to make the most of my time here, wherever "here" may be, still looking towards my future destination, bridging the gap between where I am and where I know I'm destined to go.

People...

This week I (finally) began my new job, working in the kitchen of a new restaurant here in town. Being a new restaurant, the training schedule has been very busy and there's always two to three times more people training than will actually be working a regular shift. Despite all this newness, I am LOVING  my new job! Sure, I may be one of a handful of girls working in the back, and I do believe the red dot on my thumb is a burn mark, but it's been incredible thus far.

Part of this excitement over the job I think is also due to having been bored out of my mind since coming home. Given the lack of transportation, my own apathy, and bipolar weather, my laptop has proven its true friendship these past couple of months. Needless to say then, that working with other human beings has been a major high. However, one thing has been bothering me since I started working. One thing which hadn't even dawned on me until this week; I don't know how to have fun. 

Let me elaborate a little bit:
Before I left for England, not only was I in a different town, but I was in a completely different age bracket. I was still a teenager, and a good law-abiding one at that. So, now I'm back in Canada, now a legal adult and am no longer affiliated with anything involving school, youth group, or anything else "young". This being said, I honestly haven't the slightest idea how to hang out with people my own age.

The only young adults I've hung out since I reached that age bracket have all been Christians, good, law-abiding Christians who truly do love God. I haven't been with young adults who aren't Christians (and sometimes aren't law-abiding) since I joined the ranks. To give you some more context, even just listening to the conversations at work can be difficult. Now, I can already say that I really, truly love my co-workers, which is awesome, but some of the things I hear being said and discussed makes me feel on the outs. Green Brownies, leisurely hook-ups, drinking till blackout occurs are seemingly the main source of humor within the crew. Back in my McDonalds days, yes, I would've found these stories hilarious and probably would've even encouraged them. But how do I respond now?

I see the way I am now and where I've come from, and I can truthfully say I pray that I never go back to that. I'm not proud of the things I found funny and the things that I said to be funny. I want to have integrity in every area of my life. So how can I be relevant, hilarious, honest, upright and moral, and still be able to go out the pub with my new-found friends? The answer to this is probably simple, and probably ends in "Just Be Yourself", but sometimes it doesn't feel as simple as stated. Sometimes life, relationships, all these things can feel like a juggling act, all a careful balance between chaos and control, order and a world of pain. I don't understand it myself, and I often find myself wondering why, if I'm such a people person, is it so hard for me to figure them out?

On a plus side, I have recently acquired a phone, so friends, I'm not as far gone as I thought I was. Progress...





 

And On a Lighter Note...

It has come to my attention that, after twenty years of ignorance and denial, I am a bit of an odd person. There, I said it. It's time to face the facts and deal with the hand I've been dealt. It has taken awhile to come to terms with this shocking self-revelation, but I now can say in total confidence that I, Jade, am odd and I'm okay with that.

Clearly, this is not as monumental a discovery as I'm making it out to be, but in light of the fact that my last entry was anything but "cheery", I thought something out of the blue was needed. So, here are The Fifteen Reasons Why I Am A Strange One Indeed:

1) Whether I'm alone in my home or in the public eye, I continue to speak to my dog, Rolo, as if she were able to communicate back. No baby talk, but I do find myself asking her some of life's greatest questions, and then pausing for a response.

2) I am a sucker for Science Fiction and Fantasy television series. And nothing thrills me more than finding a kindred spirit, someone who chuckles when they see my TARDIS themed t-shirt. Nothing, except for...

3) ...when someone comments on an incredibly clever Facebook status that I spent time mapping out in my head. Thank you for acknowledging my wit.

4) I have never and will never read an electronic book. Why? Because dog-earing a page of a book makes me feel ten times for accomplished in life.

5) My idea of a perfect weekend morning is waking up, only to spend the next three hours in bed watching movie trailers on YouTube.

6) Also, I read movie and book plots on Wikipedia to determine whether or not I want to dedicate time to either.

7) I have dressed up every Halloween, save this past one. Most memorable costumes include a geisha, a gypsy, and a t-shirt which read "This is my Halloween costume" across the chest. Needless to say, the latter received the most comments (and possibly the most stares...never again).

8) I have collected Archie comics since Grade 4. I also keep a stack of about five in my bathroom at any given time (for those longer sessions).

9) I also collect odd rocks and gemstones. I keep them in the same box I kept a tuft of hair from my first hamster, Teddy. Though the tuft as been removed since, I think of him every time I open that sequined heart box.

10) I am a master air guitar player and lip-syncer and practice frequently in my bedroom.

11) I have my deepest thoughts while showering. Most major revelations in my life have come to mind somewhere between shampooing my hair and shaving my legs. This is partly due to the fact that I often "reenact" interviews between myself and Oprah (yes, Ms. Winfrey herself). Don't ask where this habit came from; I haven't the slightest idea. But I can say that had Oprah ever interviewed me, I would have presented solutions to world poverty, homelessness, the prison system, legalizing gay marriage, the abortion issues, religion in schools and religious freedom, all while being complemented on my latest novel/album/film/etc. Trust me, I am the most kick-ass person Oprah would have ever interviewed! 

12) The only way I enjoy cooking is with music blasting. More specifically, I only really enjoy baking while listening to swing music or anything jazzy. Also, I prefer to be wearing either a dress or skirt with my apron and heels. Or bare feet, depends on how sexy I feel while sifting flour.

13) I lay awake two nights ago thinking of things that make me weird before I decided to make a list.

14) I have multiple bizarre celebrity crushes. Not your typical Justin Beiber or Channing Tatum crushes. There's Edward Norton, Kevin Spacey, Robert Downey Jr., Liam Neeson, and David Tennant to name a few. Common thread: they're all older than my folks. Is this a problem?

15) And last, but not least, the final thing that makes me strange is that I think that all these points are strange. Sure, some of them are worthy of a "Come again?", but, hey, these a simply a few things that make up the wonderfully weird person that I am and am so thankful to be. There's been plenty of times growing up and all where I questioned who I was and why I was. There were plenty of times where I remember thinking I would never fit in this world, no matter what. But (it's about to get religious up in here) God made me as I am, when I am, where I am, what I am, and who I am. Honestly, if I tried to attempt to be anything other than Jade, well, I simply wouldn't be Jade (duh...). So strange, weird, or perfectly Jade-like. Call it what you will, and love it all the same! 

R is for RRRRAAAAGGGE!!!

I like to think of myself as a kind and trusting individual. I think, for the most part, I do a good job of being a good friend and a genuinely lovely person. I have my muttering-curses-under-my-breath and rolling-my-eyes moments, but compared to my teenage years, they are seldom and, usually, for good reason when they do happen.

But every now and then, it's like Something overtakes me and is determined to make me look like the biggest jerk who ever walked the Earth. I describe It like a bubble of rage, somewhere in my diaphragm that lurks around within. It feeds off of every wrongdoing done to me (imagined or real) and prefers carbonated beverages. Confined to the torso region of my body, It doesn't get much exercise. Combine that with the number of soft drinks I consume, It simple grows and grows. I'm pretty sure this little Rage Bubble creature waltzes around my diaphragm, shaking one fist at the world and face-palming Himself with the other hand. 

I've never cared too much about Him freeloading; in fact, I avoid Him as much as possible. Being the "kind and trusting" person I am, I've never given much thought to evicting Him. I don't want to hurt His feelings, you know. But that has never stopped HIM from being a bit of a douche. It's like He never learned how to be socially normal or politically correct or even just nice. And when I least expect it, He jumps out of hiding and overtakes my body. Sometimes He makes me say things that I end up regretting, sometimes it's typing something that I should have thought through first. And sometimes He overtakes my actions ( a la dumping water on a friend, back-handing my sister, cutting someone off, etc). It's not a pretty moment and it's never nice.

Although I haven't evicted Him entirely (He has a lot of baggage, and it'll take sometime to clean up Hid mess), I've downsized His living quarters. I've given Him limited access and instructed Him not to act before running it by me first. He's not too pleased about the changes I've made, but I can say that I've had far less foot-in-mouth instances ever since! That doesn't mean I don't feeling Him seething around inside. Sometimes, I hear Him freaking out, yelling things that shouldn't even be thought of, and pounding against my heart as if to agitate me into action. But then I put down my Coke Zero, take a few deep breaths, and tell Him to get lost and watch TV or something. And life returns to rainbows and butterflies once more!    

And I'm not talking about poor eyesight...

So, I have this theory that there is a curse that hangs over every single person. It's the curse of the "double-take".

Let's not beat around the bush; we've all been there at some point, and I'm sure a few of my readers are still there with me. When passing by a member of the opposite sex, there is this sudden unintentional urge to turn back and see what you're missing. Sometimes you don't even walk by the person; you might simply be within eye-shot of said individual. 

Point-in-Case:
This morning, I was checking out a new church with my mother. Now, we were specifically checking out this church because of the large number of people my age in attendance. Seeing as how I'm still trying to find my place here, we thought we'd give it a whirl. I was not five feet into the building when I spot a dude on the sofa in the lobby. Had I been asked to describe him in that moment, I wouldn't have been able to answer, as I honestly had not gotten a good look at him. Now, I had a choice in that moment: I could have continued to walk towards the coffee bar with my mom, not giving the guy a second though...or I could sneak another "casual" glance in his direction. I chose the latter. Upon a double-take, I concluded that he wasn't my type. Now, was there anything overly repulsive or desirable about this guy? No, not that I saw anyways. Did I need to look at him a second time? Absolutely not. Would I have checked him out again if "he" had been a "she"? Nope. But why is this?

Now, this all may seem quite shallow to anyone reading this. I like to think of myself as not being a shallow person...but a person who, nonetheless, appreciates the human body (particularly of the male variety). I don't think this is wrong, but feel free to disagree with me. I want to talk about attraction, not lust here.

As a single, straight female, I am obviously attracted to men. As a single, straight, Christian female whose majority of friends are in relationships (dating, engaged, married, with children, etc), I am acutely aware of my singledom. There's this weird and, I think, unnatural pressure on Christian singles to get married off young (they don't call it "Bridal College" for nothing). And, from a "worldly" standpoint, it's pretty uncool to be single if you're not hooking up every other weekend. As I am neither hooking up or currently hitched, I'm in that awkward and uncomfortable stage of being simply single...
...which means I'm also very aware of any and all male activity in my presence. I think nearly all singles suffer from the overly acute awareness of the opposite sex. For some, it peaks in high school, others in college, and for some of us it really never ends until we tie the knot. 

So, is the double-take a natural phenomenon? Maybe so, but maybe not. Do I continue to stand by my belief that while I'm double-taking some guy in church, there's someone just as single as me doing the same to me? I certainly won't deny it! But cheers to the single life, however long it lasts. Though I pray that one day, that "double-take" turns into a slo-mo movie moment, complete with montage, cheesy 80's music, and a happily ever after finale!  

Family Portrait

I never fully realized how blessed I am to have the family that I have. Before England, I was living within thirty minutes from nearly my entire extended family for the first time since grade two. I lived in the same country as my family for most of my life, but nearly always lived far enough away from family that Christmas was a HUGE deal and birthday presents between my sister and I were always combined. 

This never bothered me. In fact, until recently, it been a bit of a relief to be apart from family that I honestly grew up not knowing very well. I would feel awkward during reunions because, as much as I love being part of a family, I never truly felt part of my greater, extended clan. I don't blame my parents for this; in fact, I've spoken about this to them on numerous occasions. I grew up rolling my eyes when people would talk about how much they missed their cousins, aunts and uncles, grandparents, and the like. It just never made sense to me, never having lived close enough and been old enough to warrant a decent relationship with any of them.

After having finally come to terms with the fact that, yes, I don't fair well with long-distance relationships, which in turn leads to many unhealthy coping mechanisms, I can finally say, in all seriousness and joy that I love, and greatly enjoy my extended family!

I have the strangest, most lovable family ever! I have my mom's side of the family: a 101 cousins (all of who are more tech-savvy than me...and probably dress better), my aunt and uncle who built an entirely new house simply to fit even more people into the already bustling household, my grave-digging uncle, the uncle who introduced me to modern technology (aka. the DVD player), the secretly totally hip grandmother/free hairdresser, and "Waste Not, Want Not" obsessive gardener grandfather. My father's side of the family is a bit smaller, but no less lovable: my Shaggy-look-alike cousin (who has a tattoo, which instantly gives him more swag than me), my chicken-rearing uncle (who bought his wife a corvette), my aunt who I personally don't think has aged a day during my lifetime (and she drives a corvette), my not-afraid-to-call-you-out grandma who made me realize that my dad was once a kid too (also, she gave me aprons, so she's a winner in my books), and my adorable grandfather who, although he is nearly deaf, still knows how to crack a mean joke!

I love my family, immediate and extended. We are a quirky bunch of people who laugh and eat and eat and laugh together when we can. Though I still have that initial awkward sensation upon entering any given family scenario, I know that I will leave each gathering with a grin on my face and having gained about three pounds extra. C'est la vie!

The Big 5-0

This being my 50th post on this blog, I feel like this particular post needs to be a reflection of some kind, to evoke emotion in you, the great public and devoted readers of this blog. So, here goes. Try not to tear up. (Warning: use of language may offend some. Reader discretion is advised.)

Yesterday, driving from what I call my "new home" to what is now, quite understandably, my "old home", I was both excited and dreadfully frightened. I was excited to see sights which had at one point been oh-so familiar, to return to places that held much fond memories, and reunite with people who've played such a key role in my life. However, I was also freaked out of my mind for those exact same reasons.

Have you ever left a place that you think you can read like a book only to return to find that things are not quite how you left them? We are all familiar with this Paranormal Activity-esque horror scenario, though most of our situations don't involve ghosts (let's hope). There's a certain level of comfort about finding something the same way it was; it makes us feel at peace because we understand it, we have control over it. There's a beauty about certainty...because the unknown scares the hell out of us!

I have a very vivid imagination, but a relatively terrible memory. The only way I remember anything or anyone is by labeling them, whether by physical description ("Oh, you mean the lady with the Real Housewives of Texas hair?") or situational description ("Yeah, yeah...he's the dude who made farting noises in class and then got suspended for selling drugs on campus!"). I should let you know that both those scenarios were in fact made up. What I'm trying to say is that I remember places by the memories I has there; not by the name of the street or where a mall is located on a map, but my memories and the people that were there to share them with. But a memory is therefore tied to what a place has become and whether or not those people are there to reminisce with you.

Which brings me to reunions. I am terrible when it comes to any sort of reunion. I get awkward, look off into space, jumble and mumble my words, and am left scrambling for something, ANYTHING, to coherently say. I constantly feel the need to dredge up old conversations as a means of keeping the present conversation alive. This only amplifies the fact that I have a hard time not only keeping in contact with people, but emotionally reconnecting with old friends, a fault I am desperately trying to overcome. Apart from my family, I think I've skyped, like, three other people while I was away. I'm not proud of this and I'm very sorry to anyone I promised a skype date with and went back on my word. All this to say, I freak out about failing to rekindle friendships.

Now, you might be reading this thinking, "Wow, thanks for this uplifting and inspiring post. I think I'll go jump off a bridge now". Wait, this post has a happy ending! 

So, I went to my old town today to meet up with a friend for coffee. I was nervous and sweating like a pig the whole ride there, while trying very hard to regain control of the steering wheel. As I pulled off the highway, I saw the old Heritage Barn, where I went to the fair with a coworker and we rode the Zipper three times, screaming like maniacs, and then listened to a concert under the stars. I drove past my old house, where I first discovered the importance of following recipes and the frailty of handrails. I past my old workplace, where I had my first car accident but more importantly, where I met amazing people who work hard and laugh harder. I wound up outside Starbucks, where I was to meet my friend, Alexa. I walked in and looked around, then suddenly felt a light tap on my shoulder. I turned around only to end up in a warm, long overdue embrace from a good friend. We sat, drank our coffees, talked about life (the big things and little things). I stared out into space a few times and brought up a few old conversations, but you know what? We had a great time, as awkward as I may have made it (I'm sorry, Alexa!). 

I'm all about living in the Now, but the Now wouldn't be what it is without my Past. And though I wouldn't want to relive it, it's nice to visit every now and then!

Mediocracy at it's Finest.

So, my last post was, perhaps, less than "sunshine, lollipops and rainbows". I was about to apologize, but I think I did enough of that already. You get the picture; life is a bit different now. I do, however, apologize if anyone read my last post and went into crisis mode, under the impression that I have become a depressive homebody. This, is NOT the case, let me reassure you. Dramatic at times, yes, but far from an under melancholic existence!

With that written and done with, my days have somehow managed to fill up, despite unemployment and very little to do outside my apartment. I have been baking up a storm, which is perhaps not the safest thing to do while by yourself. Someone needs to tell me to quit sampling my creations and to start doing a few more crunches. But what kind of aspiring chef would I be without a taste here and there...and maybe a bit more here, and I think I need to try that again too! It has been an excellent week for baking, something I enjoy doing, despite my loathing of having to follow any given recipe. Granted, it always seems to taste better when I do stick to the recipe. Go figure, or rather, there goes my figure. See what I did there; yeah, I thought it was clever too!  

I've taken up practicing guitar a lot more now as well. I pity any of my neighbors who are privy to my constant failed attempts to properly play an F chord. "F" you, F chord, I say! It certainly is a workout for your fingers, moving up and down, curling in the most unnatural positions. How have I never noticed before the beautifully sculpted fingers of performing guitarists? 

 

 

As I was saying...

So, that's been a thing. Also, bought a ukelele, which I intend to master like a boss. Who says "Somewhere Over the Rainbow" won't give me the street cred I will eventually deserve? Everyone, but that's besides the point. Nah, it's been fun playing it, though I do need to re-tune it every time I bust it out. I can say one thing for sure, I am going to be a freakin' hipster babe this summer strolling around with my ukelele in tow. Take that, World!

Immensely looking forward to visiting friends and family this upcoming week. Trying to mentally prepare myself for a bit of a shock to return "from whence I came", but it shouldn't be as frightening as I'm currently envisioning it to be. 

Plans are up in the air right now. It's all a little bit hazy, the future. I know what I would like to do; it's how to get there that I need to figure out. But, there's still time for that. For now, let them eat cake! And what's dessert without a show to accompany it? Hang on while I find a song that doesn't use an F chord...

handshakes don't always do the trick.

Warning: This post is not a nice post, nor is it very light-hearted. Please understand that I do not wish to complain or point fingers or even look for sympathy. I simply want to write honestly.

We're warned constantly about coming out of a life-changing experience (namely YWAM) and what it may look like. I've endured the initial awkwardness and shift in habit, and, though I still refuse to say "trash can", I've re-adapted pretty quickly. However, one thing still bothers me, and that is my lack of friends currently.

Again, please no one take this the wrong way or get upset. Hear me out first. I have spent the past two years connecting with people from all walks of life, and going deep with them. I have cried, laughed, sang, and peed my pants in front of these people. I love them all so dearly and wouldn't change a thing about my relationships with any of them. However, it struck me yesterday afternoon. After yet another unsuccessful round of handing out resumes, I returned to my vehicle with a second coffee in tow for my mother at work. I got in the vehicle and froze. Now, understand that I love my mother and father with all my heart. I joke about them being old, but they are some of the funniest, most entertaining people I have ever come across. But that doesn't make them not my parents. They still are my parents, and I realized that the only human contact I've really had since coming "home" has been with my parents and their friends, who are in the same age bracket. I have had very little interaction with people my age, making me somewhat friendless right now. After two years of dedicated friendship-building, I'm back to square one with no one to even go for coffee with.

This isn't to say all is lost, nor am I saying that it's right to severe all past friendships. But let's face it; a relationship can only be maintained so well over a long distance. I'm leaving for Vancouver in two weeks time and plan to meet up with my friends in that are, something that I am thrilled about. But what happens when I come back here, without the familiarity of friends? 

I read a note someone gave me last year. This very dear friend wrote down different qualities they see in me and encouraging words for me. One words they wrote was, "Friend of God". Ironic that I'm yakking on about not having friends, and the One friend I've knowingly began to shut down to is Him. I suppose I won't know true friendship until I can learn to be a true friend. And if the only One around right now is, indeed, my Best Friend...then maybe I need a few lessons from Him.

Normal

Ok, so I'm reading a book that many of you have probably heard of (if not, I HIGHLY recommend it). The book is Blue Like Jazz by Donald Miller and it is an excellent book which I am shocked at every time I pick it up. I secretly think Don is the subconscious part of my mind, bringing things to light which I was kind of ok with chillin' in the dark. Sadly, I have the mind to realize that ignorance is NOT bliss, therefore, it's time I confess a few things to you, my readers and the general public at large:

I am terrified of normalcy, of living an ordinary life. I'm petrified when it comes to committing to one thing, one time, one place, even one person. I hate the idea of a nice-to-five life for the rest of my time here on Earth, and nothing scares me more than never being truly known. 

I suppose you could trace back these fears to childhood. Before I say anything more, let me first say I don't blame God or my parents for the many moves we as a family made; as of late, I've come to terms with them and realize that each move had a reason, a purpose, and came at just the right time. Growing up, we moved nine times and my sister and I attended nearly a dozen schools. My parents were involved in different organizations and churches, and rarely worked the same job for more than three years. I had many different friends which lasted as long as I attended the same school or church. As a result, we didn't live "normal" lives and lasting friendships have been between far and few. With that in mind though, the friendships that have withstood the test of time have been amazing, encouraging, and such a blessing for me, particularly in times of serious depression and anger with the world.

I didn't live what the media portrays as "normal", and that has been a small comfort all these years. Call it pride, call it a defense mechanism; I enjoyed being, what I deemed, one of the few really different people. I would (and to my shame, still do) make known how different and odd I truly was. I suppose it helped me cope with the fact that I did indeed feel on-the-outs. A wanderer with few close friends and nothing overly profound about me, I felt the need to, in some way, stand apart from my peers. 

All this to say, normalcy is something I don't want to associate with, for fear that if I do, I'll lose what has kept me from being just another face in the crowd. I fear that if I commit to one place, one time, one person, I will suddenly lack the mystery and intrigue that I've pretended to have for so long. But is this just sheer independence and my own rebellious nature?

And THIS is where Donald Miller comes in. There's far too much in my mind to write it all down in coherent words and phrases, but he has certainly struck a chord, I'll give him (or God, or both) that. Here is an average guy, living a normal life, going to university, not overly "Christian"...and yet, I find his story fascinating. I love how God speaks to him and gives him such incredible insight into how God sees the world. I love how something as "normal" as going to university is turning out to be the Ultimate Faith Challenge and the people he meets constantly push him to believe in something, to go deeper in life. I love how he makes the exact same mistakes I make, making me feel slightly less like an idiot. I guess it's like the infamous Mom line says, "Everybody's unique", which I used to take as a load of bull (pardon me...) for meaning, "Everybody is useless and boring" but now I realize that God doesn't make "boring".

Ok...let me sum up my thought process: God made man in His image, we are made in the image of God. According to dictionary.com (yes, not the best reference), one definition of the word normal is "the standard". So, we agree that God is the Ultimate Standard, right? Which would make God "The Normal". Then, wouldn't being "normal" mean you are, perhaps not THE standard, but close to the standard, meaning Christ-like? Meaning that to be "normal" is to be the closest to who God made us to be? Just thoughts, and I haven't fully thought these through either. Simply writing scrawled on a blog where the world wide web can read it. 

Thoughts, anyone?

God must love me...

Before anyone groans and rolls their eyes after reading the title...HOLD ON A MINUTE! This is not a sermon because we're nearing Easter nor is this anything that would single out my "religious" readers. In fact, I actually would like to take some time to brag about my Home, if you wouldn't mind. 
I know I mentioned before that this new "Home" is, indeed, new. However, that does not diminish the love I already have for this place. Let me elaborate by showcasing a few photos of my now-Home:

 
I have to add that I didn't take these photos; I found these on Google (give me a break, I haven't been here THAT long!)
So, ultimately, this blog is simply to say that I sure have missed mountains, blue skies, lakes, hills, sun, and just varied landscape! Don't get me wrong, I ADORE the UK. But nothing says, "I am a True Canadian, Strong and Free" like breathing in that fresh, crisp air while gazing out at mountains, some snow-capped and others covered in beautiful, deep green vegetation. Needless to say, I can't wait for Summer to finally arrive! 
Apart from living in this nature-lover paradise, I'm currently scouring the town for employment. I don't want to be picky, but I'd reeeeeally like to get a job in a coffee shop. Maybe I'm a bit of a hipster, but I love the coffee shop atmosphere, all warm and welcoming. Fingers crossed that sometime in the next week or so I get a call, or email, I'm not that fussed!
It's definitely a bit different living a "normal" life again. No strange accents, no walking around campus in my housecoat, no more pubs (anything that calls itself a "pub" here, ain't!) Still friendless, and you know it's bound to be that way for awhile when you get excited about your parents sitting next to you in Church. I honestly haven't the slightest idea about what's next right now. So many options, so much confusion, not enough time with God. So, yeah, that needs to be a priority!
Anyways, just letting y'all know that I'm alive and well, enjoying the wonderful, if not slightly bizarre, weather here and praying desperately for a job and a clue about what's next! Thanks a million! Write soon!

Home, let me go Home.

Home looks beautiful from inside the café. I look out and see the green field surrounded by brick estates with white trim on the windows. The grey skies have finally let up, allowing the vivid blue to make a welcome appearance. Inside, “The Civil Wars” sing softly in the background, creating a rather pleasant atmosphere as I drink my regular latte. Kaitlin sits in the corner, sipping her mocha. She looks at me and says, “I have a question that may seem weird but it has a reason…”

This is and has been life here in England. Though at times noisy and busy, sometimes it’s exactly like it is right now: warm, bizarre, cozy, and tasty! I love it here, everything about it. From daily tea and biscuit breaks to community meetings where our YWAM England National Leader bellows Scripture from the scaffolding, I have never had such a strange and beautiful time with such strange and beautiful people. 

The future is still foggy, which is why, perhaps, I’m so thrilled to be going home within the week. Though this place has been home to me for the past year and a half, I look forward to seeing family and friends again. I look forward to NO meetings, however much hilarity ensued during them. I’m excited to get a job (never thought I’d say that). And I look forward to seeing God move in my home country, hometown, and in me as well.

I’m also thrilled to eat Ketchup chips (notice CHIPS, not CRISPS), to go to Tim Hortons for an Ice Cap, to drive on the “right” side of the road again, and hopefully, never use an umbrella while I’m home! Here’s hoping and wishing!

L-O-V-E

Where did we go wrong?

Now I don’t mean "we" as in "me", "he", or "she"

I mean "we" as in collectively

As a church body that was once so strong

Now everywhere we go we’re seen as wrong

As ignorant fools who preach morality

But live lives of scandal and jealousy

As young men who profess hope and grace

But turn to pornography to take His place

As young women of fire, truth and purity

Yet whose swollen bellies scream of lost virginity

As old news that’s come and gone

A tired refrain in a worn-out song

I can hear Him crying from up above

This wasn’t what He meant when He said “love”

Love is not tolerance of evil deeds

Or a passive attempt at planting seeds

That we hope will grow and praise the One

But that hope is too fragile, easily undone

No, Love is more than simply a word

Love is an action, Love is a verb

To actively give away what is given to you

And in the hard times see it all through

To embrace suffering with open arms

For the sake of the One who saves us from harm

 

He died, crucified for love

Whilst we sat by, our push became shove

We distanced ourselves from the One

Not heeding His words when He said “It is done”

But not even death could overcome

Our Great King who sent His Son

With death beaten, now life enduring

What started small began suddenly stirring

A relentless love, more than history itself

A beautiful pursuit that now gathers dust on a shelf

How could something so precious, something so fine

Be reduced to folklore, this love that is mine

He gave His all, His life for us

Yet over the little things we fuss

Over our clothes, our hair, material things

They’ve become our idols, our lovers, our kings

Whilst the Man, the One sits on His throne

Shaking His head and sighing “Come back home”

I heard His cry while I was still far away

Empty pockets, a pig pen, pitchfork and hay

And I knew that I would never be worthy, never be perfect as He

But maybe a servant in His house I could be

But as I placed each foot in front of the other

Shuffling back towards the One, my Father

He saw me, still covered in muck and grime

Ran to me, hugged me and shouted, "You are Mine!"

 

That isn't poetry, prose, or rhyme.

That is Love, of the purest kind.