I’ve been lucky enough to go on many adventures this summer. Cottaging, camping, Montréal, Tubing at the Elora Gorge… and a few more still to come1. I’ve also been lucky though to have had some mini-adventures right here in the city.
Like hanging out with SweetGIF at the CBC Music Festival.
It was one of the first of those hot, hot Toronto summer days but we kept our cool and showed those CBC festival goers just how exciting and fun SweetGIF can be.
Or hanging with some of the loveliest of my friends on my balcony, whether it be rainy and cold, scorching hot or just right2.
I won’t be able to host one of these this month, but I’m so grateful I was able to host one every month for the last 3 months. I started hosting them because I needed to surround myself with wonderful people who I knew had my back, people I knew who loved me despite all my flaws, and maybe some of them even love me because of them. I am so grateful to have such wonderful people in my life.
And then there was this night out with the girls. We got dolled up. We ordered wine, orgasmic appetizers, drool-worthy meals and were treated to a large assortment of delectable desserts by the staff at Boehmer as we celebrated the last few weeks of our darling friend’s unmarried life.
And then there was that night we went to Notable Prom. The event itself wasn’t spectacular but it certainly was fun getting out with one of my best friends, and reliving our prom night even if only by regaling stories we remembered.
We left a wee bit later than I wanted to, but we were still on the highway by 9:30am. There were a total of seven of us who went up to the cottage this week; we took two cars up and arrived at the cottage about 30 minutes apart. It took me a full day to fully unwind this time around1, and even then I wasn’t fully myself.
I tried my best to be present with everyone, but the gnawing feeling in the back of my mind and heart were incessant. More and more it’s becoming extremely evident that the only option I have is the one option I really wish I didn’t want to have to take. But this isn’t about all that. This is about how lucky I felt to have been able to spend three and a half days with people who I don’t feel deserving to know so intimately. I can only hope that I never made anyone feel uncomfortable simply by going through what I’m going through. I swear, I tried my best.
It isn’t that I don’t think I am worthy in the sense that I am worthless, no, it is merely that I know how many amazing people there are in the world and I know how lucky I am that they chose me to include in their lives2.
There was a fascinating dynamic present, and it made for a great mix of deep connection and light-hearted fun. There was a lot of sexual innuendo, dad jokes and puns, mixed in with talk about Myers-Briggs test results and philosophical topics about love and connection. They are wonderful because they choose to live authentic lives, they open their hearts to everyone, careful not to let anyone in who doesn’t truly deserve it. I could really learn a lot from these people.
I love how much simpler life is at the cottage: waking up unassisted by alarms, going for a morning run breathing in nothing but fresh air, stretching with a gorgeous view of the lake, trees and wildlife in the distance, enjoying a morning coffee with the same view, swim-showering in the lake, sun-drying beside the same awesome people I mentioned above, lunching, going for boat rides, visiting the look-out tower, swimming in Oxtongue Ragged Falls, playing cards against humanity with some of the dirtiest3 minds, vicky-cures4, roaring fires, star gazing, and the best part of all – celebrating the birth of a woman who inspires me to be the best version of myself.
I spent quite a bit of time working on purging unnecessary items from my home this past weekend. Less time than I would have liked, but it still felt good. It has been a slow process – purging the unnecessary from my life – because I’m so sentimental, and because I have a hard time giving up things5. I just need to keep the end goal in mind, and all this time in-between, and the feeling that continues to gnaw at me will be something I will learn to harness so I can become the ultimate version of me6.
I just want to send out a thank you to those I spent the week with at the cottage. You may not have known it at the time, but you helped this lost soul feel like she belongs even if only for a few days. I am forever grateful for your generosity.
compared to the last time I went away – to go camping anyway[↩]
I’m even more aware of how lucky I am because there is someone I chose to keep in my life right now who takes me for granted – and while I wish it was as easy to do as it is to say, I know I should cut them out…but like I said, easier said than done[↩]
I’m a hopeless romantic, and I think that’s my biggest problem1, the fact that I’m hopeless about romance. I think that while I was growing up, the notion of being hopelessly romantic was the best because it meant that one would be romantic no matter what; that you would choose love, no matter what.
Now that I’m older, and not less prone to my impulses, I’ve come to the realization that it’s pretty stupid silly to be hopeless about the subject of love and romance. Being a hopeless romantic means that you are the type who would do anything for the person who is lucky enough to earn a place in your heart. “Ain’t no mountain high enough, Ain’t no valley low enough, Ain’t no river wide enough, To keep me from you”; and other such unrealistic proclamations, these are the sort of things you’d hear someone – who was a hopeless romantic – utter. It’s lovely, isn’t it? Doesn’t it awaken those butterflies in your stomach? Make your heart race, and your palms sweat? Me. Too.
Of course, as I’ve already stated – all that romantic stuff is unrealistic. You swoon while you make promises of such grand gestures and your ‘love’ is elated because, “Oh my god, you’d do all that for me? I feel so special”. Of course, unless you back it up with actions that demonstrate your dedication, you’re just a liar. Maybe that’s a little unfair – maybe you didn’t mean to lie about the things you’d do to make the other person happy; maybe you had every intention to do those things but life got in the way. Either way, it still proves my point – being a hopeless romantic is really one being just hopeless. Maybe there’s nothing romantic about it all. We were just taught to think so.
Now say, you’re on the other side of that coin and you are the one who needs to hear such proclamations of adoration to truly feel loved. Well, you’re fucked too aren’t you?. The odds of you meeting someone who a) will adore you enough to speak to you like Romeo spoke to Juliet, b) will actually mean every word they say, and c) will share your hopeless romanticism is smaller than… something with really small odds2.
All I’m trying to say is that once upon a time, I believed in Once Upon a Time. And now I realize that all those fairy tales ended in a wedding or a marriage to someone they barely knew, with no follow-up story for how their lives actually played out. All that we were told was that they lived “happily ever after”, but we were never given proof. So I think it’s time to put away my hopes of finding the kind of adoration that I am, seemingly, cursed to feel for my partner. It’s time I realize that the way I love is the way that I love, and that anyone else I may pair up with isn’t going to love me the same way, but that doesn’t mean they love me any less. I guess.
So far, I’ve always known what I know about love. But for the first time in my life, I’m really unsure. I’d love to hear your thoughts.
I sing. A lot. I’ve written about this love more than once. It simply makes my heart happy. Sometimes I like to sing a little more seriously than others; I think normal people call it ‘practicing’.
One day, I had a great practice. I still didn’t earn an A+, though; My brain decided to drop the lyrics about three quarters of the way through the second chorus but I didn’t let that faze((it just occurred to me how long it has been since I have used that word, man does it look freaky)) me. I skipped a couple of lines and took a breath for the part that was coming up: The hardest part. The bridge1.
You see, in this particular song, there’s a really high note that’s held for a long time and then it changes notes and you have to make it to sound as if sung from the same breath as previously mentioned! Well, fuck me. I have loved this song though. It’s my song. I’ve been trying to conquer it for so long and I have yet to get 100%. Maybe all I need is just one2, but I won’t know if I don’t get that first one.
[It’s funny how sometimes you could be writing about one thing yet there are a myriad of other life aspects it could be applied to. I digress.]
That day, not only did it feel perfectly comfortable skipping those words but I nailed the bridge. It felt so good. Better than sex3. And that was enough for me that day. I felt accomplished. On top of all that, I figured out a thing or two about my own voice and the inner workings of it. All by myself4.
I’d still prefer to get voice lessons at some point in my life; one day 🙂 For now, I’m just going to have to keep figuring it out on my own5.