But you make me wanna act like a girl… paint my nails and wear perfume for you.

So I’ve written before that over the last couple years I’ve tried to conqueror my issues with anxiety, self harm, and disordered eating. With anxiety especially, I was told to try and put my energy into concentrating on something–anything–else. Now this might seem silly… but one of the best things I’ve found to put my energy into was nail art. I’ve always been obsessed with nail polish, ever since I was a kid trying to recreate Buffy Summers’ gorgeous manicures.

Over the last couple years I’ve discovered nail art blogs, and fell in love. I started slowly at first, trying different designs, but when I started recovering from my eating disorder I needed something to concentrate on other than food–or calories, or the weight I was gaining–and I really started to love painting my nails. Doing them made me feel pretty. No matter what I weigh, my nails don’t change–and I like being able to concentrate on that. Sure, I’m slightly obsessed with polish but I don’t think that’s a bad thing.

And thankfully, I have a boyfriend who understands why I have almost 300 bottles of polish… and growing. He even helps me pick out colors when I can’t think of how I want to do my nails. Now that’s love.

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Insert Veronica Mars theme here.

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It’s really happening.

In one week, the Veronica Mars movie–a movie I’ve been waiting for since the show went off the air in 2007–becomes a reality. Words can’t even begin to describe my excitement. Back in 2009, I posted that they were trying to make a movie…. and then nothing. Eventually I started to lose hope that we’d ever get closure to the end of the series.

And then, last March, they announced the Kickstarter with an adorable video. And my dreams of a Veronica Mars movie became a reality.

I wish I could put into words the excitement I’m feeling right now. I think Kenton thinks I’m a little crazy considering I’ve been obsessing for… oh, the last year about this movie. I have my tickets, my TEAM PIZ shirt is in the works, and I’m already planning on showing up to the theater at least 2 hours early because I want the best seats in the house. Yes, I may be a little obsessed… but Veronica Mars has never let me down. All I need to do is re-watch the series in the next 6 days (which, with this weekend off, will be no issue.)

Now all I need to do is figure out a Veronica Mars themed manicure, and I’ll be all set.

Oh yeah, and TEAM PIZ all the way.

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Hey… if Veronica doesn’t end up choosing Piz (LIKE SHE SHOULD), I’m more than willing to mend his broken heart… just give me a fancy hotel room and a long weekend. ;)

Do you remember when we first moved in together? The piano took up the living room. You’d play me boogie woogie… I played you love songs.

As I previously mentioned, Kenton moved in to the house I share with my roommate back in the middle of December, once he finished his school in Moncton. Technically, he had moved all his stuff in way back in October, but because he was commuting, we were still sharing my tiny old bedroom upstairs when he came home on weekends. That room was barely big enough for me, let alone the two of us together. You have no idea how glad I was once he officially moved in, unpacked, and we took over the basement.

 

I’ve never lived with a boy before. I wasn’t sure how it was going to go, especially considering I’ve somehow managed to acquire a huge amount of stuff in my twenty-seven years–but somehow we’ve managed to find a balance between our stuff. Sure, he thinks I own too many dresses, and I just can’t understand his obsession with home renovation shows (haha) but that’s what makes us work. I was a little scared, but honestly… nothing has ever felt so perfect.

And with that, I thought I’d share just a peak into our little love nest.

 

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Our bed. It’s a hand-me-down, replacing my old bunk beds. I can’t wait for us to get a new bed–that mattress has seen better days for sure. Once we get our tax refunds, we’re getting a new bed, and a whole new bed spread.
Also check out the awesome wood paneling that surrounds us in our new bedroom. So seventies. We also have a wicked wooden bar just off to the left that hides Kenton’s Man nook.
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My makeshift closet. Basically a whole bunch of rolling racks for my dresses and such. I wish I could say this was all the clothing I owned…. but not even close.
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More evidence of my overwhelming amount of stuff. So many books, and comics, and little nicknacks. Yeah… don’t ask me how all of this fit into that little room of mine…. I couldn’t tell you.
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We live in the basement, so there is no view. I jazzed up the window sill with Batman, and some stuffed toys, which joined the Kempt Rd. sign that Kenton had from his old apartment. He also put up hooks so I can organize my jewelry.

I’M BACK!

You may have noticed that my attendance on this blog has been sparse at best the last couple months. Back in August, my Mac cord died, and I just wasn’t able to get myself one due to the cost. However, my Dad managed to order me one online, and so I’m finally back and I plan on making regular updates now that I have the ability to.

 

 

 

 

It’s beginning to look a lot like Christmas….

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Christmas is a month away.

Weird to think how quickly this year has sped by. It feels like not that long ago I was celebrating last Christmas now here it is, once again. While usually I tend to get depressed around Christmas, the blues hitting me hard. This year, though, things are feeling different. The closer we get to Christmas the more excited I get.

This is the boy and my first Christmas together (we started dating in the beginning of January last year.) And more exciting with us living together it will be just us two on Christmas morning. I plan on getting the two of us onesies for Christmas morning and making a big breakfast. Usually I dread the holidays but this year I’m a giddy schoolgirl. I can’t wait to start decorating and baking and watching all my favorite Christmas episodes of my favorite shows. Not to mention some of my best friends will be coming back from the far reaches of the country.

I don’t know what has gotten into me. But I’m flush with Christmas sport and I like it!

Well I guess this is growing up.

So it’s kind of crazy, but I turn twenty seven in one week.

I don’t know why this age is freaking me out as much as it is. It just feels like such a monumental age. The more I think about it, the more I start to think about my life up to this point–the people in my life, and the people who no longer are. I will be the first person to admit I haven’t always made the best choices. For the majority of my life I’ve gone by my emotions, rather than by logic. And while that has lead to some great decisions, it also has meant that sometimes I’ve reacted from my gut.

 

I guess what I’m trying to say is that as my birthday approaches I can’t help but wonder about the people not in my life and almost wish I could make up for whatever reason it is that pulled us apart. Maybe this is being a grown up, I’m not sure. All I know is that for some reason I can’t stop thinking about it. And maybe there is no way to fix the past, to make up for the mistakes I’ve made. Maybe the best thing to do is just let it go. If only life had an instruction manual that could give me the answers. For now I guess all I can do is start from today and try and make sure I don’t repeat past mistakes. You can’t change the past, but you can make sure you don’t repeat it.

And if you’re scared of the future tonight, we’ll just take it each hour one at a time.

Fall is officially among us.

I’ve written before how fall is by far my favorite season. Fall fashions, Halloween (and my sister and brother in law’s annual Halloween party), and yes even my birthday.

In less than a month I turn 27 which actually freaks me out, more so than any birthday yet so far. There is just something about the idea of being 27. For one, its the same age my mother was when she had me. It feels like such a grown up age–like I should be married by now with a house and a dog and a couple kids. This is especially compounded by the fact my 10 year high school reunion is next year, and while Facebook creeping my high school classmates, I couldn’t help but notice a large chunk of them are married, and having babies and being all grown up. All I can boast is that I’ve finally gotten my beginners, about ten years after the rest of the world.

Don’t get me wrong I’m more than happy with my life, and the way things have ended up. I have the most fabulous family, friends and boyfriend and wouldn’t want life to be any different. My life may not have gone the way I imagined it would at 17 but that’s okay with me. I know 27 is going to hold a lot of exciting things-the boyfriend moving in, for one. So much is changing and I’m ready to embrace whatever the universe has in store for me.

Here in this diary I write you visions of my summer… it was the best I ever had.

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To my best friend,

It’s been a year since you moved a straight shot across the country, landing on the opposite coast.

We’ve said since we were kids that no matter what happens, and what life brings us, we will be eighty years old crazy ladies drinking gin from teacups and telling the stories of when we were young. And even with the entire country between us I will never stop knowing that’s true. After 13 odd years of good times, bad times and drunk times our friendship has never wavered. A lot has been changing in the last year, and both of us are no longer the silly tipsy girls who used to get drunk on a pirate ship and stumble through the streets at midnight.  It blows my mind that the next couple years will see us getting married and having babies and starting our futures. But no matter what happens, how many miles between us, I know that you and I will always be a part of each others lives. You’re not just my best friend–you’re my second sister.

I miss you so much. Everyday. But whenever it gets too much all I have to do is close my eyes and remember the good times, never forgetting it’s just the beginning of many more memories to come.

Whoa, 21 and invincible… whoa, can’t wait to screw this up. And woah, 21 and invincible.

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Myself, at twenty one.

Did you know that I’ve been writing in this blog for almost five years this month.

That’s right–five years.

Since I was twenty-one.

A lot has changed in those five years, more than I think anyone saw coming. It’s crazy to look back through old entries and read through who I was at the time. While my posting has waned over the years, sporadic at best sometimes, I’ve always tried to find my way back here, to keep up with the changes, to fill the computer screen with what will someday be nothing more than memories. I started writing here at a particularly rough time, when I was feeling lost, and this blog has watched me grow through the bad times, deal with the devastating, and bounce right back. And for that reason, I could never see me letting it go. Even though I’ve changed, this is still my home, my place to let sort out the troubling things, to geek out over silly things, and gush over the lovely-dovey.

I filled out this survey back in 2009, and although that’s not quite 5 years, I thought it would be interesting to fill it out again, and marvel at the difference.

How old were you 5 years ago? twenty-one.
Were you in school? I was just about to start my last year of University.
If so, what grade? Last. Year. University.
Who were your friends? Ella, Alyssa, Malory, Ashley, Michelle, Nick. But for the most part I didn’t see my friends. I’m a loner by nature–that’s just who I am. It’s something I’m trying my damnest to break out of, but it still lingers there, especially on the bad days.
Do you look different now? Well, I had just cut off my hair into a chin-length style, similar to how I now wear it… so I’m guess I don’t look too, too differently.
Have your music tastes changed? Somewhat. But my iPod is still filled with the same music it was back then, albeit a little more Glee since Glee didn’t exist in 2008.
What about your clothing? I’ve started wearing clothes that are actually my size, and not hiding my body under baggy layers as much as I used to.
How many people have you dated? 3, technically.
Have you been in love? Yes.
What was your best memory? I have so many, it’s hard to chose a favorite.
What was your worst memory? This, too, is hard to pick out one in particular. The night we lost my grandmother stands out in my mind though.
Have you moved? Yes!
Have you had your heart broken? Oh yes.
Did you get a new car? My parents did.
How many people have you slept with? Only a few that mattered.
Do you have more confidence? I do. It’s strange–I’ve been looking through old chat logs on my parent’s computer while I’ve been house sitting and while sometimes when I get down it feels like I’m still that girl, I do think I’ve made some serious strides in having more confidence and being content with who I am.
What’s something you wish you go change? For better or worse, things happened how they were suppose to happen in the end. Do I wish things could have been less strained or hurtful? Of course. But I wouldn’t ever want to go back to being myself at twenty-one. I was a very broken girl. If I could change something I think I would have been more honest with the people who loved me about just how much pain I was in, and how bad things were getting. I know I put a lot of stress on them, and for that I am sorry.
Any regrets? Not being honest when I needed help, and letting the pain grow until it got to an overwhelming level and I lost my head.
Have you lost anyone? Yes.
Have you gained anyone? Yes.
Have you gotten any taller? I don’t believe so.
Have you gained or lost weight? Since August 2008? Both. I’m slightly thinner now then I was exactly five years ago, but over the years I’ve gained and lost about 20 pounds.
Is your hair the same color it was? Somewhat? Maybe darker.
What was your biggest accomplishment? Surviving when I honestly didn’t think I could, or wanted to.
Have you improved at all? I think I have. I’ve grown up, I’ve matured.
What was your biggest downfall? Self harm. And the stubborn belief that I was “fine.”
Is there anything specific that reminds you of the past 5 years? This blog. But I’ll have to go with music, if only because music reminds me of the past more than anything else.
What do you miss the most? From twenty-one? Not much. I miss my grandmother and uncle everyday and wonder what they would see if they saw me now.

I wish there was something i could say… to erase each and every page that you’ve been through… even though it’s not my place to save you.

Most people don’t know this, but six months ago I was set on the idea of packing up the belongings I could, and moving across the country where two of my best friends reside.

Last year wasn’t an easy year for me. Early in the summer, I relapsed back into my patterns of self harm, hard. I was in a dark place, and I took it out on myself. I was hurting myself frequently, barely eating, and making myself sick daily. Topped with periods of binge drinking, I was starting to fall apart. It was only around Christmas when my best friends came home that I finally started to feel a little better. So when my best friend suggested me leaving home, out to her part of the country, I thought: yes! Maybe this will fix everything. And so I decided that leaving, essentially running away, was my perfect solution.

And then something changed.

When the boy and I went on our first coffee date, it was on a whim. He’d been suggesting it for over two years, and I hadn’t yet made myself available for it. We were friends, we talked constantly, and he was such a sweetheart but I was just too scared to jump. Finally, I decided one day to ask him, keen to see what it would be like. We set a date, and I jumped. I was still playing with the idea of moving away, but as we spent more and more time together–and I started to feel like a girl I hadn’t been in a long, long time–the feelings of wanting to run away started to fade away. As did my need for self destruction.

I don’t want to say that he “saved” me. I’ve always been a keen believer in the idea that no one can save you but yourself. Instead he showed me a part of myself that I had long forgotten existed. He knows about my troubling past, and he knows I’m still recovering–something he supports me in unconditionally. He knows I don’t want him to swoop in and try to protect me–and he knows he can’t. Instead he’s there to listen, to tell me he loves me, and keep me strong on the bad days. Six months on, and it feels good. I feel good. For the first time in a long, long time I feel like recovery is possible, that I can do it. I know it will never be easy. But in the end, the things most worth it never are.

I may do it on my own, but I’m never alone.