L'ecole me detruit

First assignment of writing class. If only I could express my write in french as I do in english. Husband says that at the end of the term I will look at it and be happy at far I've come since this deficient kick-off to the class. I sure hope so.

Je suis une jeune femme assez petite. J’ai des longs cheveux brun marron qui tombent sur mon dos dans les boucles dénouées. J’ai des lunettes qui s’abritent mes yeux bleu pur et clair. Mon nez est facilement discret, mais celui qui se trouve dessous n’est pas. Couvertes par le rouge, mes lèvres sont plein et les coins se trouvent la plupart du temps courbé vers le ciel - je crois que je suis à l’apogée de mes sourires. Mes doigts sont minces et longs, les ongles portent souvent le vernis rouge, violet ou rose. L’annulaire fait étalage de deux belles bague qui signifie que je suis une épouse. Je suis aussi une femme délicate en physique, mais plutôt dans mon cœur et j’ai beaucoup d’amour à partager.

7 words over the limit but who's counting?

Here's to a C. They DO get degrees.

xoxo
Incompetent V.

Two apples a day keep the doctors far away...

This Friday will be the last day I wake before the hour of 8am, wear heels and slit envelopes with a smile on my face. No more of that. I suppose in a few weeks I will return to waking before 8am as my school routine takes its toll. Regardless, the end of this summer office job is in site, and 4:30pm on Friday afternoon will bear my march of glee down the elevators, out the doors and onto my free spirit. Ahhh, fall is upon us.

This summer has been one of many novelties. New husband, new home, new car, new job. This job, new this summer, has also been new in other summers. Three times the charm is my motto, and back again I was for one more round of Master Anglers, good mornings until 12 and good afternoons until 4:30. Everyday I open the doors, turn on the lights and deliver the newspaper; The Sun and Free Press to the lunch room, the Globe & Mail to the President. I go to my desk, turn on my computer, take the phone off call forward, check the voicemail and remove my travel mugged coffee from my bag with haste. At 9:30 I eat one apple and at 10 I go for coffee with Betty, a lovely lady of 54. I ask her what she did last night, she says "Oh, nothing much", then she asks me and I tell her about the events that last night beheld. At 10:30 we return to our desks, I open the mail, do the Master Anglers, deliver the mail, and answer any odd phone calls that come my way. Then I come back to my desk and eat another apple. Usually at this point someone will have brought me whatever small task that they don't feel like doing that day, licking envelopes, making labels, or preparing packages. At 12 I hop on my bike and pedal as fast as my legs allow, to my sweet home for lunch. For one hour I feel like a normal human being with feelings, thoughts and things to do. It's important and I need it. At 1 I return from my blessed abode, and tend to the awaiting invoices. These are the longest hours when my only company is this screen, and the game which is to wait. I am the winner everyday. At 2 I drink a can of diet coke which is merely an action to keep me occupied so my eyes don't run their free will and fall slowly but surely to their most desired position, it works every time. At 3 I print and proof my batch of invoices, then slowly take a stroll down the hall through the office where I deliver them to the accounting clerk. The rest of the day is a blur. No coke, no invoices, only silence until 4:30. And that, dear friends, is my day and was my summer. Thankfully in between all of those things I had one companion to keep me updated on the beauties and events of the world, and discuss decisions, annoyances, and the humour of our jobs. Thanks e-lady, T-lady - you have carried me through the summer.

Now it is 11:51 and I am hungry as a duck. 9 minutes until lunch time and then I will feast.

Cheers to zombie office life that will be brought to an end in 2.5 days. Thank goodness.

xoxo V.

Inspiration

I wanted to write that in French but it's the same. It is in French and English. It is a bilingual word.

Today I feel oddly/odly (however it is that you spell that word) inspired to be me. To be the young, and wild, and free 22 year old girl that I am. I feel happy and content and largely in love with my husband, extra thankful for my friends and extra extra happy that I live in Winnipeg with everyone else who lives in Winnipeg.

Today I had lunch with my very dear friend. Tomorrow she is going to venture into untracked land (un-tracked by her) and accompany her beau to his highschool reunion. While drinking coffee at a small table for two, she confessed to feeling silly about her fresh age of 21 amidst a class of adults - 10 years post-highschool. I looked her right in the eye and said "homegirl - never be ashamed of your age." Then I repeated a line which an equally dear friend once uttered, unknown to what significance it would have to me, "Confidence is key." That is what I believe. Admittedly, there have been times when I have felt disadvantaged by my young age as I, like her, typically can be found among people that don't share this age as common ground. In the past few months I have taken very strongly to my age and dread the days of an older one. Again, I have to admit that it's not because of this key confidence that I am so bold to preach about, but more in fear that life won't be what it is now, that it will not bring flowers and kisses and giggles, as it has consistently at age 22. Regardless of the reasons, my age is one thing I hold dear to my heart and I would defend to the end. 22. That is me. That is my age.

Sometimes I confuse who I am with who I want to be. I might say, think, or write something, re-visit it and wonder, with all the honesty within me, if it were merely a wish-filled thought, or the strings of my heart. I would love to crack the code. Aside from this confusion, today I feel content about this struggle. Today I feel like the scrapes I have inside my soul are okay to have; acknowledged and free, they will be sorted in due time. In this moment and in this year, this is who I am pleased to be.

Ummm... Also this weekend will be grand. I feel it and I know it. Me and my team are going to storm the streets, the stores, the wedding and our very own living room with love and fun and I just can't wait.


xoxo forever,
V.

En route

I wouldn't say that my ride to work is a commute, no, it's more of a jaunt. I wear my work clothes while cycling, and they are far from sweaty when I arrive at the tinted glass doors on the 7th floor. 155 Carlton is a short 10 minute bike ride, at a fast pace I might add, from my door step on the 3rd floor of my lovely abode dans le village. Yesterday, in that short yet stressfull trek through the roar of rush houred drivers, the leg of my right pant got caught in the chain of my bike. I realize that wide leg pants are not the ideal outfit for riding a bike, but rolled up and ready, I thought they proved themselves fairly versatile. The quick spin on my trusty two-wheeler would turn to into a hike when I turn it in for walking shoes. The 10 minutes of travel time would turn to 25, and 25 minutes is the amount of time that would be stolen from me and my peaceful cradle. What to do, what to do...Ride those pants to shreds, take the hike, or put together a work riding outfit and change upon arrival. None are great options but one will have to suffice. Not today though, I wore a dress.

My email team abandoned ship today, designsponge is leaving a lot to be desired, my daily creeps have yet to post and Landy is not answering his phone.


Bored forever,
Vanasty.

Mountains of fun

Ah, back to work after a long weekend. Something typically not anticipated, yet this year's extra day felt longer than average. Do I have a job? When was the last time I was there? Honest thoughts scrolling through my brain on Tuesday's eve left me gratefully logging the events of the weekend, and with content I compiled a mental list of the fun that was had over the last few days: breakfast date, biking, coffee, 2 movies at the theatre, exchange district wandering, sangria, mall walking, more biking, lunch date, birthday party in the park, a movie at home, etc. Yikes. Could it get any better?

This summer has been a different experience for plenty of reasons. The weather has been sub-par to say the least, but regardless of that seemingly significant downfall, it has been one to be remembered. Friendship is at an all-time high, and love is swinging from him to her to her to him. Dates and day-trips galore, I don't feel as though this summer is passing me by with nothing to show. No, this season has brought and taken more than I imagined, and for re-assurements sake, it won't stop in September.

Also, one month until school starts. It's slightly shameful how eager I am to buy my textboks and sneak into my favorite homework location on campus. My courses are picked and my schedule is made. A planned life is a happy life in my books.


Happily yours,
Vanessa

Marital Bliss

Life was dramatic when the wedding plans were in full bloom, moods were swinging for the best and the majority of those involved were pleased with the decisions being made. It was fully entertaining to hear the voices, opinions and stories of those who are of a different generation, culture, and for multiple commas sake; genders. Hilarity ruled with comments flying from mothers and mother-in-laws to be alike.

Now, amidst the calm of a married life, sweetness is in the air, among love and other things, and I will boldly proclaim from my honeymooning perspective that I don't see how this could go sour, how it could fizzle or die or dare to be covered in dust. Endorphin'd and bare legged, yes, but this belated summer shine is not completely to blame for these hopes and dreams that daily keep my lips curved up. And we shall call him husband - ta-da! - a title that flows from my lips and fingers with dis-comfort and un-ease. But one can only adjust to so much in such a short frame of time n'est pas? If a new name for my very own lover is too much to bare, how could anyone expect of me to find comfort in a new name for myself? That, I must say, is far too much. Yes married life blissfull and pure but let's not get carried away too far too fast, shall we? Let's ease ourselves into the routine of this commitment and all that comes with it. Yes. Let's.


Shortly and sweetly,
Vanny.

Encore

One of the many oddities about life, is the inability to maintain organization within thoughts, emotions, memories, and experiences. The times are countless when a memory has masterly tip toed in and re-kindled feelings thought to be long gone, and scenes dubbed acted and closed. Yet the lessons that are learned when these thoughts have dared to re-haunt are those that had yet to been learned and it is now that you are mildly able to, in the smallest of scales, weigh maturity and the lengths you have come since those years, months, and days that thankfully time has left behind.

As I sat yesterday amidst neighbors and strangers discussing blatantly the truths of our hearts, ashamedly leaving the weight of our words for the ears of those sitting close to bear, for a split second my words halted and I was perfectly aware of myself. Surrounded by my own panic, the most natural form of self-consciousness flowed over me. For a moment I sat across a small table from myself and watched the fake, real, sincere and concerned words flow from my mouth. Then it was gone, my sentence attempted to be put back together and in the name of distraction the conversation continued but with a lingering film of realization blurring my sight. Interesting.

The end of an era is drawing near to me quickly and with fearsome steps forward I approach the time with tears. It is shocking even to myself, how tangible are the breaking of ties between myself and my mother and padre. A seemingly physical procedure leaves me hanging with my new companion to re-attach myself to, leading us into a whold new world. Aladdin's words have never held so much weight in my life. It is then that the tears of joy race down my face for part 2 of the crying sensation featuring myself in my dark, dreary living room along with indescribeable feeling of soaring, tumbling, and freewheeling through an endless diamond sky. Ahhh, what a lonesome apartment will lead you to write. Putting my loneliness aside, I will boldly say that May 9th could not come sooner. Though terribly content with my current quality of life, I am more than confident that this life is going to only get better once that day has passed... It's meant to be.

Awake and dreaming,
this was,
Vanessa.