The wonder years, et cetera.

While sipping tea amidst lamp lighting in the dark of an evening, my oldest sister and I sat reminiscing over our childhood; the wonder years. Chuckling to laughing to shrieking the stories unravelled and memories that we thought were long gone, surfaced. Ecstasy. The camping, the lemonade stands, and the babysitting; What times have been better than those?

Childhood innocense was ignorance as bliss. During those long hours of sandbox creations how could I have imagined what life as an adult would entale? Rent, loathsome employment, crucial decisions, and so on and so on.

Recently I have become more aware than ever of the faults that I have been cursed with, or rather, the once small flaws that I have allowed to evolve into my character. To name them would be embarassing as the list is far too long for ambition to overcome in near future. It seems as though, it is not quite as easy as it once was, to be a decent human being, in fact it is getting harder everyday. The realization that my character needs to be tended to, that I need to conciously decide to better myself in my everyday choices, actions, and words is overwhelming. How can it be that I haven't thought of this sooner? For now it seems too hard; too late to be beautiful.

Self-loathing slash pity aside, I enjoy the idea that there is still hope for me. It so happens that time is on my side; sitting on the meer age of 20, there is still days, nay, years - God willing - to enhance my current self, for my childhood morale to be seized, and evolve once more into the person that I so long to be.

Though I can't say I am un-satisfied with my current life, in fact it is turning out beautifully, yet, I can't help but sigh and utter those disgustingly familiar words ... Oh, to be a child again.

Signing off,
V.

My imagination.

The last time that my niece was in town my hope was restored in imaginations. You always hear people talk about children having an ample amount of imagination in their often odd shaped heads, but I didn't really think about the reality of those words until my niece showed me the ways of her mind. My sister - her mom - myself and my niece were sitting in the kitchen at my parents house chatting and we gave Cadence a wooden spoon to play with. We're nice, I know. Much to my surprise, she starts throwing it over her shoulder and saying "We're fishing! Look at all the fishies in the water!! I caught one! I caught a fishy! Look there's a pink one, a blue one, and a green one!" Just with that wooden spoon. What the hell right!? I couldn't even pretend to play fishing with her because my imagination is just that far gone. I couldn't see those damn fish. Suffice it to say, after watching my niece's display of... resourcefulness, I was pretty bummed of my lack there of.

Yesterday I regained my imagination... Big-time. Amidst an odd health situation, my childhood mind flew back to me in full force. My brain created pains in my stomach that I knew were non-existent; I created worst-case diagnosing scenarios. It was mahem in my mind to say the least. Final wishes, funeral plans, and last words were flying around up there and all I had to go off of was pale poo. The internet is a bitch. We'll see what the doctor has to say today, he will probably confirm the fact that my imagination is at an all-time high and that I'm missing B12 in my diet or somthing completely curable of the like. After my new diet is discussed, my imagination will go into recess until the next scare comes along.

We'll see though, either I'm dying in which case I'm flying to Europe tomorrow, or I have an imagination, in which case I'll be fishing at work today - avec mon stylo. I'd prefer the latter.


Yours Truly,
Vanasty.

Inspiration

Today I feel inspired to write a blog, which I have not done for quite some time now. For the last couple of months I have felt dry... As though I couldn't squeeze a drip of recent ponders from my brain to the black clavier where my fingers have rested; Waiting. Nothing. Today is nothing out of the ordinary, I experienced the silence of rested fingers just a minute ago but felt encouraged when I realized that no one will read this. I can write whatever I feel, even though I feel nothing yet am oddly motivated to write; but I have assurance that there will be no one there to critique my empty words. Hallelujah.

My life consists of... Work. On a day to day basis I am fighting the urge to call in sick. The push that motivates me to get out of bed is knowing that if I do call in sick, my poor mis-lead mother will be worried about what illness is keeping me from my duty of finding the poor youth of Winnipeg employment and will most likely take the trek to River Avenue at lunch hour to bring me food and sympathy. Oh the disappointment she would receive upon entering; to find me painting my nails or playing nintendo. The joys of working with Mom. It is now that she can stop repeating the words I despise to hear from her: "Be a woman of integrity". It is now that integrity is upon me; forcibly so. Unfortunately, yet fortunately, she is numb to that fact.

If only I could be satisfied with the slush soiling the back of my jeans. Summer seems far too distant, not to mention Fall: My goal, my prize. Daily I dream of textbooks, nervousness and re-kindeling my love affair avec le langue d'amour; Francais. As far away as Fall seems to be, saving money is my demon and my bank account is at an all-time low. With hopes of a maintaining a loan-free first year of university, I need to get on my A game. I will blame my worn out debit card on my living arrangement; Osborne Village. What else will I do but buy necklaces, bubble tea and boots? Nothing. I'll put my hope in summer being the solution; cycling the streets and walking the paths.

Here's to hoping... And to making it through the day.

*Cheers*


Love, Longlost V.