I don’t know that anyone else has quite as hard of a time as I do when it comes to changing for the better.

Over the last two years I have really wanted to quit smoking. I’ve done impressively well lately. Down to one smoke a day. But never have I ever gone a FULL day without a single smoke. Not since I was 18.

It’s been a long uphill battle, but I think today is the day.

Now this isn’t the only thing I have struggled with since transitioning from teenager to adult. I have always desired a healthy life; walks at night, yoga in the morning, drinking tea instead of coffee… the usual. I genuinely feel the inability to quit smoking – the constant and daily reminder that I have an unhealthy habit – really made me feel defeated. I felt so defeated that I made excuse after excuse to not go to the gym regularly or eat properly.

It was my crutch.

Now with letting smoking be a part of my past I hope to inspire myself to push harder and deal with the difficult. I want to at a minimum exercise for 30 mins daily. I work at a desk all day so even just 30 mins of yoga could make a huge improvement.

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Most of the time we spent together is a blank spot in my memory – like most of my failed relationships. I do remember little things. The things that made us.

I remember Christmas with your mom.

I remember random, unexpected kisses on your driveway while we were “just friends”.

I remember wine and good food… homemade cheesecake.

I remember cuddles that were too tight.

I remember loving you but not being in love with you and I think you do too.

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Working Title

I love looking at my old posts. 

It’s embarrassing to see how emotional I was and how dependent I was on men in my life. It funny to look at my old plans for life and see how far I’ve come.

Reflecting on the past is difficult when you don’t have pictures, words or just anything tangible that triggers memories. Even with the posts I made, some are just too vague for me to know exactly what guy I was referring to. There are the obvious situations but luckily I have this wonderful defense mechanism that kicks in and allows me to forget the holiday/summer flings and “heartbreaks”.

I did not know what I was talking about when I referred to heartbreak until about a year ago today. I knew betrayal and pain. I did not know heartbreak.

Heartbreak is so much more than throwing shoes, crying and eating your feelings. Heartbreak is like being stripped of feeling. You end up raw and naked. Just basically desperate for something to fill the void. Heartbreak empties you.

I left a good man in a bad way. He wasn’t the right man. More so I don’t think I was the right woman.

But it was good… for a while.



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So my boyfriend asked for my opinion. Not always a great idea.

He had heard on the radio about this girl who was infuriated over seeing a diaper brand with pink for the girls and blue for the boys. He thought it was just the most ridiculous thing he’d ever heard and I did too.

But for different reasons.

He was genuinely emotionally effected and annoyed by this woman he didn’t know and her opinions. Running his mouth about how “sensitive” people (by this he meant women) are these days. Just for some context… he’s 27.

I just couldn’t care less.

He believed girls should be in pink and boys couldn’t.

I believe if you want to educate your children that colours don’t actually mean something about your gender than do that. Talk to your kids. Don’t expect the rest of the world to agree.

But he was just as bad as the woman on the radio. He was adamant that I agree with his belief. Like a religious person trying to tell me I just have to love their god.

I’m not going to agree with you  just because you were told something was true at too young of an age that you simply refuse to disagree with it. 

So my opinion on the matter:

Pink is just a colour.

It is not a behaviour,  a phrase or an action. It is not something to shame a child for liking or disliking.

So when my boyfriend tries to argue with me by asking, “Would you want to put your son in pink?” I infuriate him somehow with a simple, “sure.”. (He was being really sensitive…)

He just doesn’t get it.

Pink is just a colour.

This is a common issue across the world. Both sides want to jump right to infuriated, indignant and loud. Just demanding the other side to agree.

This world is evolving and with more and more children being educated to not take what they’re told as scripture and to make up their own minds (hopefully through some thorough research and basic common sense) – we’re bound to see some progress.

I know it’s scary when things change but changing the way we frame people, (and by frame I mean; judge/criticize/make assumptions about) – whether it’s by their gender or sexual preference – could have some positive effects.

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She told me in the car as she drove through a nearly empty parking lot. My worst-best friend. She hadn’t answer my phone calls or my texts the night before. So she told me why.

She told me what he had said to her. She told me where he had touched her. She told me how she didn’t walk away. She was lying at the time. I found out later she had kept it mild – made it more easy for me to stomach. I reacted pretty poorly anyway.

So there I am – on all fours, on the grass just gulping for air through my sobbing. The sudden shock drove me to just get away from her. I asked her to pull over and flung myself onto the ground. The betrayal and grief strangled me.

My sobbing can’t overpower the sound of my worst-best friend crying as she tried to hold me together with a firm embrace… but I broke. I lost the naive piece of me, that hopeless romantic side of me.

The moment I learned he had never cared for me, respected me, thought of my heart in any way – I was shattered and every lovely moment spent together and ever loving word that came from his lips were questioned and instantly invalidated

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Everyone clearly believes a man can not change. 

Did he change? Or did my perspectives simply change? Is he more warm and loving or am I just being less annoying? Did our break up rattle the cages, did it clear out unnecessary cobwebs.

I feel like it’s different. I feel like he kisses me more and touches me more and talks to me more and is more patient and kind and thoughtful.

Maybe my perspectives different. Is it possible that I’m just focusing on the postives now instead of the negatives. I mean I still see the negatives… Could I be lying to myself more, pretending more, rationalizing more, hoping more, simply and truly being more niave than I’ve been? 

Is that possible? 

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A change in scenery from the windows

I’m in Montreal. Inspiration for my art is everywhere. But I have no sketch pad or canvas, no pencil or paint. I’m strongly inspired by the interesting scenery and of course my overwhelming boredom. My brother is hard at work and in an attempt to not bother him I took to cleaning his apartment and chain smoking. Now my throat is raw from both the dust and cat hair and well… my beloved cancer sticks. 

Yes, I could lounge around and watch crappy tv all day, but all I can think about is how great it would be to sketch out the archway I can see from my brothers bedroom window. Since I feel like my time is wasted watching television, I’m finding my thoughts growing louder in my mind, while I scrub the oven top and sweep the floors and of course, every 20 minutes, my five minutes smoke breaks.

Now you’d think – a 21 year old woman could go out on her own and explore could she not? For those of you who are not older brothers or have no older brothers… he won’t let me. I could get lost or kidnapped.. who knows? In a big city like Montreal anything can happen. 

I see that as an exciting sentence… Which is probably part of the reason why I’m not allowed out. 

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