we keep this love in a photograph… we made these memories for ourselves.

photo credit: Bethany MacIsaac Photography

Its been a while since I wrote anything.

The last year and a half have held so many up and down moments. Happy memories made, and more tears than I’d like to think back on. But if one moment stands out in my mind–it’s this day.

September 12, 2015 — I married my best friend, the love of my life.

If you’ve stuck with this long a long time, then you know my story hasn’t always been an easy one to tell. There was a time in my life when broken wouldn’t even describe who I was. I lost myself, for a long… long time. When K. came into my life, the darkness I lost myself in for so long slowly, but surely, started to lighten again. And for the first time in the longest time I realized that I wasn’t alone, that there was someone who I could confide in. Not just the good things, the happy things–but someone who I could show all of me. Who I could lay beside, and confess the things I’ve been through… all of it. No filter, no hiding.

For the first time I realized what it meant to be loved unconditionally.

We’ve started a new journey together, and I have no idea what the next 50+ years has to offer. All I do know is that will be beside me… my love, my husband, my best friend.


Here comes the bride….

This past weekend, I was lucky enough to be able to stand in the wedding of one of my best friends. Words cannot even begin to describe how happy I am for these two people–Ashley has been my best friend since we were kids, playing Spice Girls in my backyard. And Shawn, her now husband, was introduced to our group in hilarious fashion over a game of Craninum many, many years ago. I love both of them to death, and I’m so happy for them and their happily ever after.

Now, because pictures are way better than words… here are just a few shots from the night before (and our girlie sleepover) and the big day.

The bride-to-be totally cool, calm, and collection the night before. Testing out her “honey-do” whistle.


Hanging out the night before. Lots of candy and conversation all around.



Doing Ashley’s nails… I wish I had remembered to take pictures of her nails.



Total concentration.

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And when this hourglass has filtered out its final grain of sand… I raise my glass to the memories we had.


Do you know what happened five years ago this coming Wednesday (May 14th)?

I graduated from University.

I find it so strange to think that big chapter of my life happened five years ago. Looking at those pictures, it’s a little overwhelming to think how much has changed. My life has gone through many ups and downs–funerals, and weddings, babies, and new love. I’ve discovered the importance of my health, and for the first time in my life not only do I feel healthy, but I feel strong. It feels like a million years ago I stood in front of my University, head buried into the shoulder of my then boyfriend, scared to even cross the grounds and stand with my classmates for the group pictures they were taking. That’s not me anymore–not even a little bit. But never the less, looking at these pictures, I remember being that girl. I remember buying that dress, and how pretty it was. I remember how obsessed I was with losing ten pounds before, and how sick I made myself. I remember walking down the isle of the church, and seeing my whole family sitting there, proudly watching. And I remember thinking how it was the first day of the rest of my life… how I was in the “real world” now, and how terrified that made me.

Sometimes, it’s so nice to look back and reflect.

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.




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.



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.
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.
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.
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.

Let’s go all the way tonight….no regrets, just love. We can dance, until we die… you and I, will be young forever.


I’m a romantic at heart. I always have been.

I’ve never been the kind of girl that found the need to date people for the sake of dating someone just so I could so “Oh, this is so-and-s0, my boyfriend.” No, I’m perfectly fine being single, and taking care of myself. But once in a while… once in a while you meet someone and it changes everything.

And I’ve been feeling it lately. Oh how I’ve been feeling it lately.

The thing is, I’m not the easiest person to love. I know that. I’ve always known that. And unfortunately, the people in my past have reminded me of that over and over and over, to the point where I almost expect my imperfections to scare people away. For the most part, I’ve always been good at hiding the bad moments, the sad moments, the scary moments. But, from the beginning he’s just accepted that about me. Talking about my feelings has never been my strongest suit–I’m better at putting it in a story, and getting it out that way. But with him, it’s just been easy. I don’t know if it’s because I’d known him, and talked to him, for two years before this started, but it’s not as scary. It’s so easy admitting my darkest truths. Laying in bed, curled up beside him, we just talk. He told me from the beginning that I didn’t need to be scared, that no matter what I tell him, I’ll never scare him away.

And the scariest thing of all? I believe him.

Don’t wait too long to come home… my, how the years and our youth passed on. Don’t wait too long to come home… I will leave the front light on.

Hello 2013

(okay, so maybe I’m a little late on this post…. but oh well.)

It’s crazy to believe, but the whirlwind of a year that was 2012 is now over. And for me it certainly was full of ups and downs; of “i love you” and “goodbye”. It was the year I attempted to get my shit together, and fell all at the same time. But one thing I will love about 2012 was how I spent my Christmas holiday, and that was surrounded by the best of friends, old friends, and making new ones all at once.

Here’s the thing–I don’t do well with holidays, and I never have. But having my best friends back in town made everything absolutely perfect. In July, I had to say goodbye to the girls who have been by my side for as long as I can remember. The girls who supported me through everything that happened over the last three years. I wasn’t sure how I was going to survive without them, and it’s been rough. My birthday being the worst. But having them back over the holidays made me realize no matter the distance, home truly is where the heart is. And that even time and distance will never erase what we’ve been through, and what we mean to each other.

Memories are nothing without the people you make them with. And these will keep me sane until we’re together again, however soon that it.












I can be the girl in your fantasy, wild and free… say that you let me. A playboy bunny is all you need for tonight.

Wow, I haven’t written since last year. Where the heck has my brain been?

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.

Yo ho ho… and a bottle of rum.

As you can see, I haven’t exactly been updating a lot. It’s been over a month since I had anything to say, and even then it wasn’t much. The truth is, for all intensive purposes, life has just been… life lately. While I want to write–to update–there just hasn’t been anything stellar to inspire my words. And so my page has remained blank. For a while now I haven’t even sure where to take this blog, or what to write about. And with my birthday literally just around the corner, it’s struck me that maybe a twenty-five year old writing about her drunken adventures isn’t the most savvy life choice I could make.

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.