This is Love.

I've been feeling far too negative as of late, so I spent Sunday focusing on writing a list of things that make me genuinely happy:

1. Roadtrips

2. Hitting deadlines

3. Receiving handwritten mail

4. Coffee!!

5. Fresh-baked bread

6. Eavesdropping on teenage boys talking about girls

7. The first time wearing new clothes

8. Freshly-laundered sheets

9. New favourite songs

10. Scientific-sounding words

11. Hugs/hand-holding (and any other oxytocin-inducing physical human contact)

12. Puppies (and most other baby animals)

13. Orgasms

14. Board game nights/building puzzles 

15. Swimming in Cold Lake (and most other bodies of water)

16. Sloths

17. Squeezing blackheads (not necessarily my own)

18. Reading books in the bathtub

19. Driving

20. Waking up in a sunny room

21. Favourite Scrabble words

22. Polka dots

23. Writing lists

24. Favourite mugs

25. Campfires

26. Dance parties

27. Potlucks

28. When someone cooks a special meal, just for me

29. Bike riding 

30. Take-out food movie nights

31. Affectionate nicknames

32. The sound of shoes clicking in an empty hallway

33. Diving off the side of boats

34. Freckles/scars

35. Second dates

36. Capture the flag/hide-and-go-seek

37. The smell of skunk

38. Drinking from coconuts

39. Sharing pistachios

40. Fresh haircuts
41. Ridiculous Facebook conversation threads
42. Spontaneously planned hangover brunches
43. Walking around barefoot outside (and also in other places that one should not typically walk in bare feet, such as airports)
44. Stealing the neighbour's cat, Loki, and making him cuddle with me

The Best Hangover Cure

"Now I see the secret of the making of the best persons; it is to grow in the open air and to eat and sleep with the earth." -Walt Whitman

The Weight

I'm carrying the heartache with me like we've never been apart.

(Every time I sit down to write this, I stop myself. It's too personal, it's too much for here. After nearly 14 years of doing this, of sharing the most banal aspects of my life on the Internet, I'd like to think that I've perfected the art of maintaining a personal blog without ever actually getting too personal or giving away too much. But it's hard lately, figuring out where that line is. I've become too cognizant of who is reading these words and more so, who will read into them. And in that way, even if I only write three sentences, it may still be too much. I'm forever starting over. And yet.)

The heartache is just that--a dull ache, at best. I don't have the time or energy for tears. It's aching for a lost friendship, for a life that I never felt completely comfortable with, for something that was probably never meant to be--or maybe it never really was. It's aching with the uncertainty of what I've done and what that means and what I don't have control over.

The heartache is following me, heavy on my heels as I tromp through the city, music in my ears, frustration in my fingertips, toque pulled low over my ears. I'm carrying it carefully, close to me, because I need this now. I need to know what this means because this is how I'm going to figure out what I want.  

And in time, I'll be fine. I'm always fine. It's probably the thing that I like most about myself.

I knew that it would be like this.

Daily Affirmations

I'm in a rut that I just can't seem to get out of. I need a hobby. Instead, I've been doing this:

(I have to admit, I'm surprised that it's taken me this long to reach this point.) 

Gluttony

If nothing else, at least I have my priorities straight.

(And it's true. I plan on spending the next two months eating my feelings.)