The End.

Thanks for reading my blog.
This is the final entry.
I have nothing to say here.

true that.

My heart is full. And it's not about crushes.
The excitement of crushes only really last a few days. Life is about humdrum, and it's good that way.
My feet are full of blisters from wearing impractical shoes.
I move into the sublet today. Directly above my work. Noise. But I suspect I will find a level of peace. Closed doors can be just as useful and freeing as open ones.
The sun is warm in the trees and in the park and on the beach.
Let's ride bikes and hold hands and drink lemonade.
I took this personality test once, and it told me I was an idealist. We get bummed when our ideals don't turn out like how we want them. Sometimes I worry that I am just setting myself for disappointment every time I daydream.
My dreams are not elaborate or unruly. They are simple and lovely. But they require companionship. It's not so much loneliness. It's alone-ness.
I am not always completely sure my piece fits into the puzzle. Tossed in the wrong box perhaps.
I don't want that to sound pitiful. Because it's not.
I am not sad about this.
I hold onto hope.

EDIT:
I have always believed that hope and disappointment are next door neighbors.

crushes are crushes.
It's just that every once in a while you meet a man, and you want to see his insides. And you want him to see your insides.
Is that love?
Or is it just a supercrush?
Anyway, regardless of what the technical term might be, it's nice to have one.
It might seem silly to the common outsider, but it's a relief to obsess about boys (or A boy, depending on the day).
I was afraid that part of me got lost in the wash.
I sometimes struggle with embarrassment about feeling floaty feelings about guys. I have that grade 4 sense of shame (or whatever that is we learned at that age.)
This time, I have decided to afford myself the luxury of thinking nice things about this one.
I deserve a nice boy. I like to think lovely things sometimes. And fuck it if they're reciprocated or not. I have a half an hour now and then to daydream, and daydream, I will.
I found a Henri Nouwen book at the As Is.
I love that man.
He speaks my heart so many times.

A list...not A-list.

Things that I did today.
(like it matters)
1. hatched a moderately good idea.
2. ate nice cafe breakfast with ben and jen and nix.
3. watched Sex and the City movie.
4. shed a tear or two.
5. received free pizza.
6. had coffee with recently married friend and his new wife.
7. popcorn.
8. napped.
9. showered.
10. ate free pizza. well, half of it.
11. sat on the stoop of nix, and it was awesome.
12. met up with eric at cheaper show.
13. looked at art.
14. hugged a lot of people.
15. walked over cambie bridge.
16. ate cake and danced at kate's brithday party.
17. home.

good day.

more nonsense than usual

I am facing Vancouver life with caution. Carefully balancing on the edge of optimism, feeling like I could fall into the pit of normal life.
Not that normal life is bad. Just bad for me sometimes.
I like my life here.
Life with these sweet, natural friendships. Strong arms holding me tight everyday. Little golden moments. These didn't happen so much while I was away.
BF and I are holding accountability sessions every two weeks. We had one last night. I think the return is more difficult for him than it is for me. There was more trauma waiting for him. It's nice to be able to speak honestly with friends. I like when there is space to say what you mean. Space to listen and space to be heard. I think over the last few months I learned some things about communication.
There are a few boys that I am pretty excited to see on the streets. I cannot tell you enough how sweet it is to be back in a place where there are handsome dudes. I really felt like Berlin was a wasteland in that regard. It's a nice thing to have back in my life. Good healthy crushes.
I hate how pricey it is here.
I played the lottery the other day and won ten whole bucks. I had to split the winnings with Patrick because he got a ticket too, and we swore a solemn vow to split the prize if one of us won. But I am two dollars richer already. Canada is awesome.
I don't have a place to live.
I have a lead on something today. I hope it works because it's cheaper than a million dollars a month, and it's in the hood. I don't want to leave the hood.
I also have a new haircut. I was worried it might be butchy. If it is, oh well. There are worse things. I will just wear girlier things and lots of mascara.
I am also learning to ropes in the kitchen tonight. Soon I will be the queen of nachos and tofu scrambles.
This post is nonsense. I think I am falling off the blogging train.
I feel like I can't be honest here anymore. There is too much self editing.
I still think it's weird. Only putting the best things forward. Showing off. I struggle with the attraction to it. And when I read things that aren't about blowing our own horns, I feel like it's kind of cheesy. Like teenage poetry.
Maybe I'm wrong.
I know that it's just good fun, and and interesting way to keep in touch, and I love to read blogs...a lot.
It's just that I used to write a lot more openly here. Now I feel the need to keep it sort of...point form. or something. I want to put something out there, but I want it to be real. The person writing this isn't real. The big things are still there, and it's not about haircuts or the increase in rent prices.
You know?
I wanna take up pens and paper.

it's true.

I can be a real bitch.
Admitting it does not absolve me.
It doesn't make it okay.
I hate it.

My high horse is so high sometimes.
I'm going to start calling it my high giraffe or high T-rex.

How in the world are people's answers about God so concrete?
How can I love an Old Testament God?
How can I follow the ideals of the New Testament apostles?
I can't agree with this.
Do others suffer these complications?
How do you make it make sense?
Are certain passage ignored?
Do some words carry more weight than others?
Why are we so concerned about things that the Bible says very little about?
Is this my own ignorance? My own arrogance?
Am I wrong then, if I want to file it all down to one or two things?
1) God loves me.
2) Shit happens.
Is God responsible for the blood of holy wars?
Does it matter? We're his and he can do what he wants with us. Like G.I. Joes.
Is that love?
This is weird.
I know that I am on the path to belief.
I just don't get why it's so easy for some.
gotta go.

Magic in the real

Thanks to my sister, I have been doing a lot of research on Georges Melies. She sent me an awesome kids book based on Georges Melies work, called The Invention of Hugo Cabret. Georges Melies was one of the first great cinematographers. It's really beautiful and totally up my alley. I feel lonesome for the late 19th century sometimes. I wish that I was alive when all that magic was happening...real magic. Nothing computerized and digital and plastic. Everything was wood and glass and fabric and paint and paper. Photography and engines and professor inventors and Mark Twain.
I noticed that sometimes I like to dress in that time period. Like a man in that time period....corsets are hard to find...and long dresses are cumbersome. It's easy these days as it's kind in style to wear vests and keys and oxford shoes. I long for a pocket watch. If I were able, I would totally grow a curly mustache. I get instant crushes on guys with curly mustaches... crushes on dandies (don't tell john).
Anyway, it's interesting.
It has also sparked a renewed love for this song...and its video...watch it because it's beautiful.

I am also suffering from some late 20th century nostalgia.

5 hour crushes

Thinking of signing up for online dating.
Pros: love.
Cons: terrible awkward situations.
Singleness should be easier.
Berlin is good for this. I have turned off my goggles. I am not looking for a crush here. Besides, my general opinion of German guys is: boring.
I got a crush the other day though. It lasted about 5 hours.
This long-haired, tightly-panted, slightly stinky, lead singer of a metal band. not my type (typically) but he was nice and normal and funny and he had kind eyes. For those 5 hours it was nice to be in Berlin, because in real life there would be no reason for me to have met him...or hang out with him. It just happened because he's friends with one of the guys in the small circle of ex-pats here. And I didn't feel pressure to act like I knew or liked his band. It was just Berlin. That being said, I know that I will never see him again, so who cares?
It was just a nice afternoon in the park.
I got a letter today from my (ex-boy) friend Dave. It was a good letter. Made me laugh out loud in public.
My friend James arrives on Sunday. He's a real jerk. A likable jerk. I am looking forward to the visit. I feel like I will need a diffuser.
The house is going to fill up fast. Ben's dad is coming soon, and perhaps this guy Keith...which fills me with anxiety. THEN Sara and Bobbi!!!!
woot woot holla holla.
I can't wait to see them.
After they leave, the Irish girls come. The Irish girls are fun and colorful and hilarious.
Good times friends.
This post is a lot of nonsense.
Just filling the void.

Check this out though:
It's my 5 hour crush...The one with the long hair...brown hair. Don't ask questions. There are reasons why some crushes last only 5 hours.


I never claimed to have good taste.

in the end...

I'm usually pretty good at finding short-cuts, but I almost always take the long way.

I am having a hard time right now. With girls. Actually with one girl. I am taking myself out of the competition for power in relationships. I get this from girls more than I would like. Actually, probably all of us girls do. I am not the only one who struggles with this. I don't know why we do this to each other. I am sure there must be a male equivalent, but I think dudes mostly just wrestle or show off their pecs or have belching contests. Girls are sneaky and bitchy and passive-aggressive with comments about appearance and conduct and preference.
These days, at least three times a day I feel frustrated and small and defensive. I don't want to defend stupid things. I don't want to feel bad that I even like stupid things. You can agree with me or not, I don't care. I find myself saying and doing things to tip the scales of power back to me. I don't want to do that.
It's fucking bullshit.
This is what I think: You should try to like everyone. You should treat everyone with courtesy and respect, you could even find something you can both chuckle about. However, as soon as you find yourself trying to look really hard to see something you maybe could like in a person, is perhaps a sign that maybe you should just give in and say that you don't like them. At least you tried for a while. Not everyone is likeable.
So I give up. I have nothing to prove.

I just sent a nerve-wracking email to my father.
I have never felt nervous about talking to my dad before.
It's about my last post.
I found a place.
Berlin is far away.
In a good way.
This is fun.
I wonder what he will do...
I can still do whatever I can. Even if the answer is no.
I am prepared for a no.
I almost always am.
Fingers crossed.

I can do this:

I can do anything I want.
Faith. Trust. Love. Money. Hard Work.

1. Stay Calm, Be Brave
2. One Foot in Front of the Other
3. Make it Awesome

The other day I was walking to work. I have mastered a short cut that saves me at least 3 minutes. My short cut takes me around hallesches tor, along the canal, then up through the hospital parking lot, right to deifenbach straße. I was thinking about this song by Pedro the Lion. It's called Secret of an Easy Yoke. I used to love this song. I even made a zine from the lyrics of the song. For a long time, I treated it like an anthem. I treated it kind of like a theme song. It suited my doubt and discontent with the church. I think it was accompanied by a certain smugness. Also I think I viewed David Bazan (of Pedro the Lion) as some sort of prophet/leader. I think I wished that he would make it okay.
In recent years, I haven't liked the band so much. I went the more bluegrass/dolly parton/damien jurado/bruce springsteen/dusty folk way. I guess I just got tired of mopey sad songs. I got tired of people who like Pedro the Lion.
So I was walking along thinking of these lyrics, and I realized how they apply these days, but not in a protest way. The song now takes on an air of humility that just wasn't there before. I think it is a cry out for something simpler.
So when I came home, I checked it out on youtube (dotcom). This is what I found:

The first few seconds are him just talking...then it gets interesting...then the song starts.
I don't know what it is. I thought that this song might have been the start of some kind of revolution. I think a lot of people hoped this. I thought it was going to happen. It never did. And my leader fizzled out with it. There is a sadness when you suffer a loss of a hero.
Kind of like when Jared Leto started wearing eyeliner, or when they made that awful Anne of Green Gables movie (the one that has NOTHING to do with the books).

sometimes I worry

Sometimes I worry the blogging culture is taking over.
Look at me, I have two of them, and little embarrassed about both. Yet here I am, and I don't know why. I don't know why I want people to read this. But I want them to. I want to know that you're reading this. Leave a comment
This piece of shit blog.
I did that thing you know, where you click on the next blog, and it takes you to random blogs (usually written in spanish). The ones that I understood seemed kind of...vanity. Which is exactly what this one is. I guess it's what they all are.
It's an excellent tool for any random nobody to display their talents and possessions and children and travels. Most of it is boring, yet I find myself totally sucked in. Hoping that someone out there in the great wide world will strike me with something profound or clever or interesting.
This is what I have discovered:
1) All babies are cute.
2) All children are hilarious, and sometimes get sick.
3) Any food can look tempting given the right digital means.
4) We are all crafty and talented and have impeckable taste in paint chips.
5) Every flower is beautiful. Every sunset a total stunner. Spring is here
6) The renovations are coming along nicely.
7) The stuff you bought on ebay is super cool and a total deal.
8) Our husbands are a total dream.
9) The Eiffel tower is in Paris.

I don't want to step on toes. I like the blog world, I just sometimes worry about it. We behave this way in real life as well. It's human, we have always wanted to find a way to put ourselves on display.
Sometimes it's just alarming how out there we are with this. I have a web-page so HERE IT IS!!! Take a look. By the time you see a person face to face, there's nothing to talk about because you've already read the blog. I don't need to see the pictures of your kids that you have tucked away in your wallet, because I check you flickr site every week. I don't need to remember your birthday. I don't need to ask you about your trip to Europe. I don't need to see your house, or look at your garden. I don't even need to ask you why you're sad, but I can send you this fantastic e-card. It's all just there.
It has made the personal, impersonal. It makes me sad a little. It has the potential to get out of control.
I like hanging out with humans.

Hey, you should totally check out my other blog. I'm going to post about my life in Berlin!

i think i have a creepy internet stalker crush on this person.

dulcimers sound nice

I hope this works.

It's 355 in the morning here in Berlin. I am having a "white night" like the ones I used to have when I was in highschool. Sometimes I miss that blue room tucked in the basement with the Smashing Pumpkins poster and white christmas lights. I still have that poster somewhere.
I found a bit of faith on youtube. I don't know what made me type in Rich Mullins, but I did.
I've been thinking a lot lately about faith. Obviously, my own faith. I was rereading my blog (this one) from the beginning. You can read how my faith waivers and sputters and fizzles out. When I read the start, and it sounds like someone else. Someone trying to be something else. I can hear the effort to drop God's name. I thought that would define me somehow.
Contrary to what you might expect, I don't think that my loss of faith is a bad thing. I truly believe that God gave me this space to discover things on my own...or at least what I think is on my own...but it's probably being very skillfully guided along.
God knows me.
I've never been one who is content with doing something just because someone is telling me to. I am the ass who digs in her heels good and hard until she realizes in her own time that the suggestion was probably good and wise. This annoying need to make these decisions on my own, be it cleaning my room or doing my taxes (ask marilyn).
So I struggled. It was a long one. I didn't want to walk away, but I didn't want o stay either. The only reason I stuck it out so long is because of Holy fear. I mean, you don't really want to get on God's bad side. I've read the Old Testament (or at least parts) God can be a pretty mean dude.
Then, I had this dream. I won't get into it, but I really felt like it was telling me that it's okay to lose faith for a while and ask questions. There would be no abandonment.
I guess that's a long winded approach to simply saying that I am thinking about it more these days than I have in the past 3 or 4 years.
It's still frustrating, but things like old hymns and Dolly Parton and Henri Nouwen and Rich Mullins, make i seem simpler and nicer than it has seemed in a long time. If only it could remain that simple and nice. If only the church could be that simple and nice. I don't get why it has to be all weird and complicated.
This entry annoys me. I find it weird and complicated.

on being an artist

I think that I have experienced a bit of disenchantment in the realm of art.
I think Berlin really drives this home. There are too many sacrifices to make in the art world. I feel like I watch friends disappear into it.
And yeah, you could make art for art's sake, but some one has got to bring home the bacon.
There is very little that I know on almost every subject, especially art. All I know is what I see, and what I feel. My way of understanding is putting these two things together, and ending up with some product or conclusion. This is how I survive. I may be wrong, but until I find other filters, this is how it is for me.
It makes my stomach hurt when I think about it.
It would be possible to really make it in this art world if you did enough coke and gave enough blowjobs at the right parties. This is how it is simplified in my brain. I suppose you could get ahead in almost any profession this way, but in art, it seems like it's the only way unless you wanna do someone else's art.
The sheer vanity of putting your name everywhere, and being known, not because of art, but because of the parties and openings. A shy person (in my generation) probably won't be able to make money as an artist. Maybe after years of toil, and joe jobs...but by then, we will no longer be young and hot.
I wonder if like, thomas kinkade and robert bateman started out as conceptual artists when they were in their twenties. I wonder if they had to settle into paintings of cottages and cougars in order to get famous.
just a thought.
So I have decided that I don't want it.
I would rather make coffee if it means being honest.
What is the point of selling something you don't believe in?
My tolerance for bullshit has always been low.
It gets me in trouble all the time.
I am not the final authority on all things. I am constantly learning the lesson of humility. My high horse gets a little spooked sometimes, and I get thrown off. It happens. I am not a better person because I don't like or understand the art world. I just don't see a lot of good that comes from it...especially in art form.
Why bother if it can't be good.
Not that being a waitress is the best thing in the world, but at least my value isn't measured by the parties I attend.
Sometimes I feel like the little kid sitting at a table of grown-ups who are all talking about people I don't know. I respond to it emotionally. I get angry on the inside, and when I try to enter into the conversation, I get a "yeah but" response. And my little life feels littler, and my little feelings get littler, and my legs swing under my chair.
This is why blogs rule. I can write a few frustrating things and listen to Johnny and the Moon, and I feel like I understand...
Maybe you do too?

times.

they are a changing.
things are brewing.
big things.
get ready.

Singleness is a burden sometimes.
It's not a heavy burden.
It's like a pair of clunky boots. Most of the time, you don't even notice it...until you get tired, and your feet start to drag. Sometimes you just wanna take your boots off for a minute, and wiggle your toes.
This might not be the best metaphor.
Bateman brains are not the same for every Bateman. Some of us are slower, and need simpler metaphors.
All I'm saying is that at the moment, I would prefer not to drag my feet.

pizza

I aplologize for that last bout of self-pity.
It's not a big deal. I am positive my lack of good vibes was due to loss of energy while I was sick.
Ron Telesky's is not so bad.
I learned how to stretch the dough, which is something new, and mildly challenging. So now I can make pizza.
One time Sara and I tried to make pizza. our dough was dismal. an inch thick at one side, and the other side never even stretched to the side of the (9X9) cake pan. Then we discovered that we were out of cheese, so we used cheez whiz. Other toppings included lunch meat and pineapple. It's one of those flavours I still remember.
Totally delicious.

the green monster.

jealousy.
It sits deep in my chest, snapping and snarling and hungry. Usually it's kept at bay in a drugged slumber, but not today. Or yesterday. It's easy to say that things aren't fair. It's harder to shrug it off and scan the english classfieds for shitty jobs. The truth is that we are all sort of competing for the sweet job, and only a few of us can have it. I've just got to ignore the monster, and carry on.
Easier said than done.
I don't know why I seem to think that I am more deserving.
The bird caged inside of Dunkin' Donuts is signing.

reality of berlin

Yesterday Ben, Chad and I went to the Memorial for the Murdered Jews in Europe. It´s a neat place to walk around in. We decided to actually check out the information center.
That shit is so fucked up.
I think that fucked up is the best way to describe it.
We study the world wars, and watch the movies, and it never seems too real. But it´s real. It was so real. So evil. Cruel history faces me everytime I step out the door. The whole area around our apartment was bombed to nothing. And how people could get together and try to wipe entire races of people. Who stands there and pulls the trigger on babies and grannies and pretty yound girls? How do you do that?
This whole business makes me aware of how irresponsible I am when it comes to world issues. If it could happen 60 years ago, it could happen again....for sure.
So weird.

nonsense number 1

I've been thinking a lot about things.
Berlin is a very huge challenge. Not just geographically speaking...or not speaking, but also in the day to day.
I am not bummed out or anything, in fact, quite the opposite. I feel ready to face this coming year with energy and gusto.
Since arriving, I have become very inspired to do something amazing. I want to make some art. But I think the art I want to do is not quite Berlin styles. There are a bunch of art openings tonight, and there's a posse of ex-pats going around from gallery to gallery. To tell the truth, i am thankful for my sore throat that will keep me home tonight. I have never been fond of openings. I am not a fan of the schmooze....free wine or not.
I am encouraged by the fact that I want to make shit. This hasn't really happened in years.
I went for a walk today. I have an appointment with a potential employer tomorrow, and I wanted to be sure that I know where I am going. So I walked into Mitte. It's not a long walk. Everywhere I walk is interesting these days. The sun was setting, turning buildings pink. I was heart-glad that I came. I can do this.
If I can, anyone can. I am sure.
I had huge idea of what I would write here, but it's all forgotten. sorry. so it blogs.