And with that said, here’s the truth: I’m seeing someone.

I know. It’s scary to admit out loud. But the truth is, I’m very smitten. For the first time, really, I like someone. It’s new, and strange, and weird, and I’m not used to that feeling of missing someone when they’re not around, or feeling to giddy to see someone. It’s been a long time since I had four hour phone conversations until one in the morning, but you know–I like it. It’s all happening pretty quickly, but somehow it just feels like this is what it’s supposed to feel like. I’ve found someone who I like hanging out with, who makes me laugh and smile, who puts me at easy when we talk. I have no idea where else this will go, but I know for right now I’m enjoying every stolen moment.

And that’s all that matters to me.

Wouldn’t you like to know.

Truthfully, a lot has been going on behind the scenes lately, and as 2012 was ushered in (drunk, with close friends, in a very low key event), things were already happening. Anyone knows, I’m the queen of saying “this year, everything will be different” and then having horrible follow through. I spent 23 and a large part of 24 stuck in the same pattern of wanting change, but never really attempting it. But things actually are changing, and I’m letting go of my fear when it comes to that silly thing called life.

Of course, me being me, I don’t want to reveal too much yet–lest my plans be spoiled. But I can let you know that there may be some big changes coming my way, both professionally and personally. And the second it feels like the right moment to share, you know I’ll reveal all, spilling my secrets like I always have. But, if you’d like a clue… I can admit that maybe, just maybe, there may be a boy involved. Just maybe.

And, in the mean time, I thought I would share a couple pictures from my sister’s Playboy Bunny themed birthday party this past weekend.

I was always that girl in love with love. It started with fairy tales–I was such a Disney kid. For some reason I honestly believed that life wasn’t complete until you met that prince, and he made your dreams come true. Even as a teenager, I thought that as soon as I found that person, everything would finally fall into place, that I would be happy. I spent a lot of my teenage (and young adult years) unhappy: with my body, with my life, with myself. I threw myself into what I thought was love, hoping that one person could fix everything. Make me whole; make me happy.

And I did find love, real love. But here was the thing about it that I didn’t realize until after we had broken up. He was never the one to save me. For four years of my relationship with him, I was still cutting, hating myself, suffering through low self-esteem and high anxiety. As much as I wanted love to save me, it couldn’t. Sure, it brought me back to earth when I was panicking, comforting me at my darkest, protected me from myself. But I still wasn’t happy. No, it wasn’t until I made the choice–myself–to save myself that things changed. Slowly, of course, and not without bumps in the road.

Sometimes I feel like because I’m still single, people feel sad for me. It’s been almost two years since Andrew and I broke up, and there hasn’t been that one defining person to come into my life, and sweep me off my feet. My “prince”, so to speak. And the thing is I’m starting to realize is that I don’t need that, hell, don’t want it. I don’t need a guy to be happy, or complete me. I’m perfectly content and happy being on my own. Guys are nice, and fun, and yes I miss cuddling terribly. But I don’t need a guy to save me anymore, and I don’t need a guy to be happy. I’ve survived the worst possible moments on my own, and I appreciate that more.

Screw being a Disney Princess. I want to be Wonder Woman now.

It just seems like yesterday, it was 2010 on the verge of ending and I was looking forward to drinking away a hell of a year. While 2011 hasn’t exactly held the same life changing milestones, it certainly has in its possession some more subtle ones. If 2010 was the year of extreme change, 2011 was a year of growing up for me. No broken hearts or crazy hair or even new tattoos, but some somewhat maturing. I think the one thing I learned the most this year was about letting go–of preconceptions and expectations, of hurt, of pain, of the things that make you unhappy. Quitting my job was one of my proudest moments because it was the moment I decided I wanted to be happy.

And, of course, there was my nephew who honestly has helped me the most. Who knew a 11 month old could teach you so much about life. But he does, everyday–he opens my a little bit more to the reasons why life can be exciting, and how short it really is. And because of that I’ve refused to let life slip by. I’ve made amends, I’ve made friends, and I sure as hell have made sure I haven’t missed a chance. Because, I only get one life. It sure as hell better be as amazing as it possibly can be.

I remember thinking–caught up in the belief I was so “in love”–that I would never get over that heart break. Of course, there was more to the story than that, dirty details I still deal with to this day. Looking back on it now, I don’t think I was so much in love with him as the idea of being “in love” or being loved. Even still, I remember it taking me a long time to deal with everything that happened. It wasn’t until I met Andrew, until he helped me heal, that I realized what real love felt like. Even still, the idea I could ever be friends with that boy, after everything that happened, seemed absurd. Whether or not I had loved him, he had broken me.

Cue six years later.

One of the funniest things from the night before Andrew and I broke up was I got drunk. Way drunk. After leaving my girlfriends, I curled up in bed–on my computer–and for the first time in a long time logged into my MSN. I don’t remember exactly what started the conversation, but High School Ex-Boyfriend sent me a message–I think after I changed my status to something telling–asking me if I was having a bad day. We’d chatted a few times, over the years, but this was the first time we started having a real conversation. Being that it was late, and I was angry and confused and drunk, I started spilling about the whole situation. This lead to chatting on the phone at three in the morning, and an invitation for me to come over to his place. I didn’t, of course. Although in my angry state of mind the thought did cross my mind, knowing exactly what it would have meant.

Over the last year or so, HSEB and I have chatted back and forth, but it wasn’t until this summer when I started my new job, that we really started talking regularly. You see, my manager and he are good friends, which is just one of those wow-this-is-a-small-world moments. One night, when I was staying home alone, I came home from working hoping a friend would come over and drink with me. When she bailed, I found myself slightly drunk on tequila and on MSN. HSEB and I started chatting, which lead to an invitation to hang out and drink together. So at 12:30am, I walked down to his place, and the two of us got smashed together. It was one of those funny, if-only-sixteen-year-old-me-could-see-me-now situations I couldn’t help but laugh at. Of course, I got a little too wasted, threw up, and ended up passing out at his place. Waking up the next morning, not only realizing what had happened the night before but that I was still there, I couldn’t help but laugh. Sometimes the world is a funny place. But the funniest part of all? It wasn’t weird or awkward. It was almost comfortable. The most comfortable morning after I had in a long, long time.

Since that night, we’ve hung out once more, and it’s kind of hit me that the two of us–as hilarious as it is–are friends. The irony of that fact–and yet I haven’t talked to Andrew in a year and a half, excluding exchanging some fairly angry messages via email–has not escaped me. Here I am hanging out ever so casually with the first boy who ever really broke me, and yet the boy that put my pieces back together? He’s out in the world somewhere, but not part of mine. But it makes you think I guess. Who knows, maybe seven years down the line, it will be Andrew who I run into, and we can chat as though nothing ever happened as all. Hell, maybe even be…. friends.

Guess that’s called growing up.

I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I’ve been missing in action a little over the last month or so. It was never intentional, I just lost my spark when it came to writing. The truth is, this blog has been my home for over the last three and some odd years. But lately I’m feeling as though I’ve lost the girl behind it (and any inspiration for writing).

But I could never say goodbye to the blog, even if the thought of retiring it has crossed my mind. It’s my home, plain and simple. Like a best friend, even if you could a couple of months without talking, you know it’s still there waiting for you, ready to listen to all your secrets. They grow with you, changing right along as you do.

And with that, I must say, this blog is probably going to be changing over the next couple months. I’m not exactly sure where I want to go with it–it’s always been a jumble of thoughts. But I do know I’m ready to bring it along with the changes in my own life. And things are changing quickly. I’m letting go of the negative things in my life–not letting myself hold onto the sad things.

I’m growing up, I’m spreading my wings, and a I feel like a whole new girl.

Yep, I’m a redhead now. Don’t you just love it?

However, in the time being–since I’m still twenty-four, a child, and not at all old–I figured I couldn’t do this update without pictures from my evening last night. Two words: pirate party. As of three o’clock yesterday afternoon, I wasn’t even sure if I was going. But after some convincing from some coworkers (and, my fucking fantastic manager) I literally was like “screw maturity” and pulled on what best passed for pirate garb from my closet. I can be old and boring and mature and responsible when I’m dead. And I did cab home instead of sticking around (sure, it was two in the morning….) Sometimes I think I should be doing something more… adult. But then I look at my parents, who are in there fifties, and just as slightly still drunk as I am this morning, and I know that growing up is totally overrated.

And with that, the pictures. Arrrrg mateys.

Here’s the thing, ten years ago, had I thought about how life would look at twenty-five, I probably would have had some dreamy romantic tale. Even five years ago, I imagined life at twenty-five would be very different. Not to show how naive I was, but I honestly believed by the time I reached twenty five I would be engaged, if not married. I imagined I would be doing something to do with writing (vague, I know) and that I would be an adult. But the reality? I’m single as ever (and, maybe I add, loving it), working retail while trying to figure out how exactly to accomplish my dreams, and partying on weekends like I’m sixteen again. And you know what? I couldn’t be happier.

Here’s the thing, every year I sit back and think: this is the year I do this, this and this. And every year, when I haven’t checked those things off my invisible list, I feel bad about myself, like I am just a big fat failure. But you know what, I think for this birthday, I’m going to do something a little different. Sure, I could go on and on and on about the things I want to do, or see. Or, instead, I could just live life, no expectations, no planned stops. Life shouldn’t be about planning, or expectations. It should be about living every day to the fullest. Instead of fretting when things don’t go as “planned”, brush it off, and take another road. Maybe it won’t be perfect, but who wants perfect anyways? Perfect is boring. The flaws of life are definitely more exciting.

And they tell one hell of a better story.

Truthfully, ever since I started my new job I’ve been feeling more and more like summer was ending. Working long hours (and an abundance of fall clothing in stores) will do that to a girl. Even still, with September only hours away, I can’t help but find myself looking back longingly at the Summer that was. Today I spent what will probably be my last day at the lake, soaking in the sunshine as much as possible with my best friend by my side, feeling a little bit nostalgic–already–for the last couple months.

You know, without a doubt, I can say I’ve lived more in the last three or four months than in the last twenty four years. I’ve always been one of those people who has to write what they know. Sure, I always embellish, but I need inspiration for which to draw from. And sometimes I feel like maybe that’s why my stories have been a lot of the same, over and over. When you only know a few things, or haven’t lived all that much, it’s harder to draw from your own experiences. But over the course of the last year, I’ve found myself coming out of my shell a little bit more, taking risks I never would have taken before, finally embracing who I am. And this Summer… well, it was the summer of me. I finally let go of all the preconceived ideas I had about how to live, threw my hands in the air, and jumped in with both feet without once thinking about the what ifs. I felt like I was living, making up for lost time. And oh boy, do I have some stories to tell.

But now that I can feel fall in the air, I suddenly realize that I also need something solid to hold onto. A future. That’s the thing I feel myself craving so much. A solid path to look down, somewhere in the horizon where I know I’m headed. Right now… right now I have a job, yes, and I love it. Hell, it could even be a career. But a job doesn’t make a life alone, and so lately I’ve really been considering the future. And what I want out of it. And more and more I’ve realized if I really want to blossom, then it may be time to leave. Leave home. Leave Halifax. Leave Nova Scotia. I’m a big fish in a little pond, and I’m craving a change of scenery so badly. There are so many things I want, a future I keep avoiding. And it’s time I took the same bravery I had in embracing my summer, and made a decision, no regrets.

The winds of change of blowing, and the big city is calling me.

It won’t happen all at once, I’m sure. But one day soon I hope I’ll have a big announcement to share.

So in honor of that one year anniversary, I thought I would post some of the pictures from that day. I never did originally, since the day after we immediately left to go to my Uncle’s funeral. But I thought why not celebrate a year–of sadness, and most especially of joy–with a peak back to the day.

August 28th, 2010