I Think I Hate Social Media

This is mostly going to be dating related, so if you’re not down with that, you’re welcome to leave now.

I’m sick of people thinking that a ‘good morning’ text is romance. That changing your relationship status on Facebook is the defining moment. That the more Instagram posts you have of you and your other is equal to how much you love them. I’m tired of this ridiculous cycle, and I’m especially sad that this is what dating has become.

I want to be romanced. I want to romance them! (totally a two-way street) I want to worry less about how people perceive my relationship via social media and worry more about how I can make them feel appreciated.

I’ll know I’ve found a keeper when we can get through an entire meal without checking our cell phones. I really just want that ‘fuck yeah’ moment. Like, when i think of that person, my immediate reaction is ‘fuck yes’. And to any scenario. Fuck yes I want to spend time with them, fuck yes I want to skydive with you, fuck yes I want to eat so much sushi I feel like I’m going to explode, fuck yes let’s go to Legoland/Aquarium/AGO/ROM/dirty hole in the wall bar. And I want them to feel the same.

Being single is tough. Or maybe I’m just beginning to really hate social media.

The Bus.

I love being horribly straightforward. I love sending reckless text messages (because how reckless can a form of digitized communication be?) and telling people I love them and telling people they are absolutely magical humans and I cannot believe they really exist. I love saying, “Kiss me harder,” and “You’re a good person,” and, “You brighten my day.” I live my life as straight-forward as possible.

Because one day, I might get hit by a bus.

I could be walking down the street one day, blasting Rihanna or Fleetwood Mac, jamming so hard that I don’t see the bus coming. I could be walking with a book in my hand, reading until the very end. I could be paying total and complete attention, imagine the impact before it arrives.

And I’d really, really rather not die with some confusing statement I said sitting in the phone or the thoughts or the memory of someone I know, care about, need.

I know how it is—we all want to be mysterious. None of us want to get hurt. None of us want to look desperate. So we wait to respond to texts, phone calls, emails, Facebook messages, Tweets. So we communicate our emotions in how we end our messages (no period this time? Really gonna get them.). So we say vague, half-statements and expect people to read our minds.

But what if we died?

What if the last thing you ever texted that girl was, “I don’t know, whenever,” when she asked when she should come over, even though you really really wanted to see her right now? What if you were head-over-heels in lust with some beautiful human in your Lit. class but you chose to wait 15 seconds before texting them back, only to never get the chance to text them at all?

Maybe it’s weird. Maybe it’s scary. Maybe it seems downright impossible to just be—to just let people know you want them, need them, feel like, in this very moment, you will die if you do not see them, hold them, touch them in some way whether its your feet on their thighs on the couch or your tongue in their mouth or your heart in their hands.

But there is nothing more beautiful than being desperate.

And there is nothing more risky than pretending not to care.

We are young and we are human and we are beautiful and we are not as in control as we think we are. We never know who needs us back. We never know the magic that can arise between ourselves and other humans.

We never know when the bus is coming.

– Rachel C. Lewis



I know it’s probably a little too casual, but I want to be comfortable and myself. I’ve always made the mistake in the past to dress as someone I’m not and quite frankly I’m over it.

If you see the grungy girl being probably a little too shy or a little too awkward, that’s me. Say hi, please! See you ladies on Saturday!

Birthdays was the worst days

My birthday is coming up. It’s a little weird for me, to be honest. I always say I don’t like celebrating my birthday, but I always secretly wanted someone to throw me an amazing bash. I’m going to be in Toronto this year for BlogPodium, so maybe I’ll stay the night and go dancing. Or drag someone to Ripleys Aquarium. Maybe get tattooed.

Anyway, I always make it a point to treat myself. I made it through another year, why the hell not buy myself something pretty. I think this will be this year’s gift.

This is my absolute most favourite gift I’ve ever received. The person who bought it for me, I don’t really speak to much anymore. He probably thinks I lost it, but I carry it around with me everywhere. It’s my absolutely favourite and probably the most thoughtful gift I’ve ever received. I never asked for it, I didn’t even know they existed. He just knew I’d love it. I’m scared to wear it now though because the pin is a little loose. :/

Do you buy yourself birthday presents? :) If not, you should.

Trying to understand suicide

The so-called ‘psychotically depressed’ person who tries to kill herself doesn’t do so out of quote ‘hopelessness’ or any abstract conviction that life’s assets and debits do not square. And surely not because death seems suddenly appealing. The person in whom Its invisible agony reaches a certain unendurable level will kill herself the same way a trapped person will eventually jump from the window of a burning high-rise. Make no mistake about people who leap from burning windows. Their terror of falling from a great height is still just as great as it would be for you or me standing speculatively at the same window just checking out the view; i.e. the fear of falling remains a constant. The variable here is the other terror, the fire’s flames: when the flames get close enough, falling to death becomes the slightly less terrible of two terrors. It’s not desiring the fall; it’s terror of the flames. Yet nobody down on the sidewalk, looking up and yelling ‘Don‘t!’ and ‘Hang on!’, can understand the jump. Not really. You’d have to have personally been trapped and felt flames to really understand a terror way beyond falling.

– David Foster Wallace

Disconnecting and Reading

I’ve taken a lot of time off the internet lately. Social media is a strange thing. I really do have a love/hate relationship with it. It’s given my opportunities to meet people I never would have otherwise, and I even found a boy and fell head over heels in love (and out of love). How could I not love social media?

What I’ve come to realize is although it’s fun to curate all the best bits of our day and show them off to friends, acquaintances, and strangers. It’s also destroying us. It’s letting us to speculate, judge and make assumptions about other people’s lives, which I’ve admittedly been guilty of doing. (but really, so are you)

So, how do I change that? Delete my accounts? That seems a little drastic. I haven’t quite figured it out, but I’ve taken steps in the past few weeks to change.

I know this sounds really ridiculous, but I leave my computer at work now. I would cart that stupid thing everywhere. I was constantly downloading, watching movies, finding new music, or reading pointless articles. A weight has literally been lifted off my right shoulder.

So, what have I been doing with all my spare time? Reading books – a LOT of books. I think I’ve done 4 in the past two weeks. And I’m halfway through my 5th! Admittedly, 3 of them were smutty trash, but I still made it through!

I was actually really stoked on Orange is the New Black. It’s a lot different than what the Netflix series has depicted. I highly recommend it.

I’m currently simultaneously reading Hard Choices by Hillary Clinton and A Light Between Oceans by M.L. Stedman.

What’re you reading? Help me build my list!

Why don’t I live here?

The Song That Changed Your Life

Have you ever had a song change your life? I know how that sounds. It’s crazy – but I’m sure it happens more often than we’d like to admit.

Saeglopur by Sigur Ros is mine. And here’s why:

I had a rough childhood. I remember the day in early 3rd grade when everything changed. My parents divorced, and it was really messy. Lots of overnights at grandma’s house, tears, pleading, accusations, but the worst how I ended up in the middle of it all. I won’t get into the nitty gritty of it, but it completely changed me. I wasn’t a kid anymore and I didn’t trust anyone – I became fiercely independent and incredibly dependant all at once.

This independence didn’t sit well throughout highschool. I had a toxic relationship with my parents and needed to get out asap. Not only were drugs an easy escape, a drug fuelled roadtrip and a boy offering me a place to live in the big city probably didn’t help.

I remember it vividly the day I heard this song. I was in Toronto alone in my first solo apartment after breaking up with the boy that gave me the escape. I was on a bender – I’m not going to be ashamed to admit it. It was day three of not sleeping, not eating, barely leaving my bedroom. A friend sent it to me and told me it was the most beautiful song they’d ever heard. They were right.

Something inside me clicked after I played it a million times over. I can’t tell you what or why, but I knew at that point in my life I needed to make a change because the path I was going down wasn’t doing me any good.

I moved home 5 days later.

So.. I challenge you to think – Do you have a song that made a deep impression on your life? Tell me! And the story if you’re comfortable.