midnight cravings

Sometimes, when I should really be sleeping, at a late, late, too late hour, I get a hankering for mini-wheats. Because they taste so good, they can't be beat. Right now, I want mini-wheats. So that is exactly what I am going to have.

Sometimes, when I should really be sleeping, I shouldn't really be sleeping at all. Because life is too short to pass up a bowl of mini-wheats because you are too afraid to wake up tired.

much more than just a run

I said I would run 5 kilometers this morning at the Terry Fox Run. At least, that was what I said. And with pride when I decided it. But when I reached the 2.5 km turn around sign I kept going. My legs didn't do a 180 degree turn around and I didn't head back to the finish line. Not yet. Because I decided, within a few minutes, that I was going to run the 10 km run.

The reasons are plentiful. I woke up this morning entirely excited and nervous to do my first run. I had been 'training' - if you would like to call it - running just under 5 km and thought that I could handle that distance. But as I was getting ready for the run, I had a small breakfast and turned on the news. I was doing my stretches and on CBC they ran a special about Terry Fox.

He ran a marathon a day. He ran 42 km per day, for 143 days. And he ran it with just one leg. If I can just interject math into this for one second, Terry Fox ran over 5,000 km in less than 6 months. And all the while he did it without complaint - a 22-year-old man who faced cancer head on and decided that it would not hinder his dreams. I know this sounds cliche, but in all seriousness, it is blatantly true.

After listening to what the news was saying about him, I couldn't imagine not completing the full run. I have both of my legs, I don't have cancer in my lungs or in my body, and I am not held back in any way other than by laziness.

And as I passed the 2.5 km mark, and then the 5 km mark, and back around to the 8 km mark, and finally to the finish line, picking up speed just to pass under the sign that reads 'Terry Fox, Marathon of Hope' I felt entirely overwhelmed and happier than I have felt in a very long time.

I raised $145, and my legs felt like rubber, and the second I walked under that banner I felt weak and ready to fall straight to the ground, but I ran. And I would do it again without any hesitation.

A 5-k run

I can't believe I haven't written this before, but last week, after repeatedly running past signs labeled "Terry Fox Run, Sept. 13" for the past six days, I decided I am going to raise money and run in the Terry Fox Run.

I've never done it before. Independently, I mean. Of course every high school student is required to run - or in most cases, trudge slowly down the main street with a sullen look upon their face - but I've never voluntarily run for a good cause.

So I signed up for the run, and for the past week I've sweated and practically hoped that I wouldn't trip over a rock and end up flattening my dreams of running for a purpose that has nothing to do with getting into shape.

But I believe it's more than just that. There is something... encouraging, even inspiring, about running for someone or something other than yourself. Because I don't feel any sense of selfishness. I feel like, for all of the people I've known that have suffered from cancer - the friends, the family, the acquaintance - I'm actually doing something that is a little productive.

And I don't mean to sound boastful, or egotistical. I am just happy because next Sunday, when I run 5 kilometers, I'll be doing it for my grandparents, and my uncles, and for my mom and dad, who have seen so many of their loved ones taken away because of cancer. And of course, I'll be doing it for Terry Fox.

a new home

The last week and a half have been... intense. First, my sister and I had to pack up all of our belongings and take a leap of faith, heading back to Vancouver and Victoria for school. Sister is going to UVIC, I am going back to Kwantlen to finish my degree.

My mom and dad helped us in the move, and I am now finally sitting in my own place, on my own couch, in front of my own television and cooking in my own kitchen. And I don't think anything has ever felt so good, so independent.

I've never been on my own. If i wasn't living at home with my parents, I was renting a room in someone else's house. If I wasn't renting a room, I was bunking with my boyfriend's parents. I've never fully been able to appreciate the quiet, the personal space of my own place. And now I am!

It feels great. I baked my first pie the other day, I've decorated how I want to decorate, and no one can come in and tell me to change it, to move this here and suggest I do that. It is liberating. And furthermore, I can't wait for the day I actually come to own a home, I can only imagine that independence would increase.

For those of you who read my blog, thank you, because I'm not sure too many people do. But I will still write!

cry, why, cry

It's a funny thing, when sadness hits you. Sometimes your not sure where it came from, which direction - which instant brought it on, how long will it last... what is it that makes us feel it, and so strongly?

Well, tonight, for instance, for me it was a number of things. An argument, followed by a fairly sad movie (The Time Traveler's Wife), which was then followed by a series of "mellow" playlists on my iPod that should be renamed "depressing tunes," while lying on my bed and writing nonsensical messages to my long-distance boyfriend.

But it is also a funny thing, because at times it feels like crying, or being sad is the only way to work towards being happy again. How do we know what happiness even is unless we sometimes feel downright awful? So awful that a good cry tends to cure all that boggles our minds. I know that is what happens to me. I cry, get all that was bottling up inside my heart out on the plate - or the 30 odd tissues that have now been pulled from their home and re-deposited into the trash bin - and then I realize how silly I was being.

Thing post really has no direction, except now that I've welled up some salty tears in my eyes, wiped them away, and wrote about it, I feel... better.

Camping: a place where tents, huts, or other temporary shelters are set up, as by soldiers, nomads, or travelers.

Wow! What a weekend! Ben, Emily, Justin, Chelsea, Joey, Tab and Kevin (and me) all went camping up the Ottawa River over the weekend! And it was amazing.

We got all our gear together, then the four of us hiked in to the camp on the beach! Perfect sand. It was so gorgeous - except that it rained the four days before we got there, so the hike in was wet, muddy and our socks and shoes were soaked by the time everything was set up. But it was entirely worth the hike in. We got our tents up, started a roaring fire and ate some deliciously juicy hot dogs.

I love nothing better than camping. To get away for a few days - no cell phones, no internet, no traffic lights and car alarms, no distractions. Just nature. Completely surrounded by nature. It's wonderful. To survive on what you have, and swim/bath in the river, brush your teeth from a creek, go to bed smelling like campfire. It's truly the best experience.

I'm glad we actually organized ourselves and went - because it was my second last weekend to do anything with these amazing friends in Ottawa. Gush!

tick tock

I CAN'T BELIEVE how fast time goes by. I mean, really. One minute you say to yourself "I've got plenty of time to do this, to do that, to see him, to see her," and suddenly you're wondering "what the hell happened?"

That is how I am feeling right now in my current state. It is alarming to see that January turned to February without even a minor delay, February became March and it was my birthday, then March suddenly turned to June and here we are... June 29, almost July, with a million things to do before I have to leave. But, if I wasn't so busy with all this nonsense I would be bored.

This blog has really no point to it at all right now. I wish it was a bit cooler in Ottawa - the humid 30 degrees has me sweating at all hours of the day - and even at night it's hard to get comfortable to fall asleep.

That is all.

internet madness

I am sitting on my computer today - again - trying to figure out how to avoid being so easily distracted by the internet. Because, let's face it, even though we try again and again to avoid facebook, myspace, twitter and perezhilton.com, it is virtually impossible unless one has a strong will.

Apparently, I do not.

I have stories I have to write for my deadline tomorrow - stories that are easy, with good quotes and solid information, that would be written within minutes if it were not for all these tempting distractions.

Can you imagine what life would have been like 20 years ago when all such means of communication did not exist? I could. I think it would be peaceful. Less consuming, where one feels as though they have to know everything about every one all the time day and night. Exhausting, right? Even saying that last sentence has me feeling tired.

I wish that for a few days I could do my job as a writer, as a journalist, without having to use the internet. 

First blog and my neck is swollen

Well, how does one start a blog? Does it begin with a greeting, sort of a "welcome to what will soon become confessions from my heart", or a "I hope my violent outbursts will not deter you from further reading"? I'm not quite sure. But I'll do my best to entertain and enlighten, and maybe even frighten.

This past weekend Ben (that is my long-time boyfriend) and I went to a cottage on Lac de la Mere Bleu in Quebec. Having grown up in B.C., I tend to forget the horrid tales that my dad, who used to live in Ontario, told me of the swarming black flies. But spending an afternoon in a canoe, with no head netting at hand, has taught me not to forget those tales again.

I was viciously attacked by black flies. They look like fruit flies from the Okanogan Valley, except for when you wipe the back of your neck and are suprised to see christmas red blood dripping from your hands. Yes, those tiny bugs they call black flies eat your blood. And they do it without mercy. Ben counted over 30 bites on my neck alone. By Friday evening, I had begun to swell up and turn red with little dots all over my skin. On Saturday, I was aching all over - sort of like you do with the flu - and by Sunday I was ready to take a bristle brush and rub it all over the bites.

Needless to say, I miss the days of Horse Flies from B.C., where at least you could hear them coming for you and have time to prepare for a painful bite. I most definitely was not prepared for this itchy, unbearable feeling. But... at least there is always Benadryl.