• Was in full force rain gear today — Cutest navy blue rain jacket, c/o lululemon athletica, Red gum boots with navy blue cherries, and a gigantor-ikea-sized Red and Navy umbrella. 
• BOUGHT A CINNABON. The guys who worked at the Dundas Sq. one work at the College one now. I narc’d on them for shutting down the one near my work. “I hope you know you ruined my life the day I walked in there and saw that windows were boxed up and you guys were outta business.”
• Filming Eduardo the Cat was so entertaining. That, and learning Rick Astley lyrics with Britney.
• Two days off did me well at work. Store looks amazing, my people are amazing, and I got called a racist b*tch from a Crazy that I banned away forever. Trust me, this moment was PRICELESS!
• The guy who was making my Subway sandwich was tryin’ to play eyesies with me. Too bad he’s totally sixteen years old. 
• Filmed a new music video. BEST. TIMES. EVER. Katie, Caroline, Rache and Brit… I owe you guys one. Mrs. Field’s cookies on me! You will alllllllll see this video soon enough 😉 😉 😉
• I am tired of cheesy dance moves, sweating, breaking my beedjo-girl glasses, and that STUPID ASS SONG ON REPEAT!!! 
• Jack Astors with two of the dopest homegirls around — Rache and Brit. “It’s ten after ten, on a Sunday evening, JUST SO YOU KNOW.” Garlic Pan Bread? Shoot me. You’re so delectable.
• I have finally found amazing girlfriends in this damned city. Women who are independent, incredible, vibe my vibes, and who are just straight REAL. Never, EVER, a dull moment with you guys. Nothing but love in my heart, and so much longing when you are in Ireland, Greece, and I am in Vancouver…
• You are still cool in my books. Just know that I care. A lot.
• Exhaustion. Tomorrow is editing day and preparation for another project.
• Someone wanna clean my house for me? Because currently my closet is my bed, and my accessories are on the floor…. and the dishes are in the sink… 
• Three. More. Days…. and I’m outta here, baaabbbyyyy! (Just for awhile.)
• SLEEP!

I’ve spoken my piece.

Peace.

“You are a freaking loaf of bread, that’s all you do, sit there, and loaf around… you loafer! Well, guess what. You’re expiry date is up and you’re gettin’ moldy!” – Brit S.

Oh womanly rants. They get me so heated that my ears start to get hot and my face flushes red. This is just one expressive Italian. Imagine a room full of angry women joining in on a passionate b*tch fest. It is an absolute nightmare. And it is almost always, always… about the same thing. The Opposite Sex.

I shall now turn back the hands of time to the night after watching ‘He’s Not that Into You,’ starring a superstar cast of Drew Barrymore, Scarlett Johannson, Jennifer Aniston, Ben Afleck, etc. This movie was surprisingly enjoyable to watch. It was also very thought provoking, to the point where Brit and I knew a good vent was in order. What transpired from this was the realization that we are just damn tired. I am exhausted from the confusion, the cloudiness and unclear communication between myself and the various men that have walked in and out of my life. Why can’t things ever be just black and white? You are either down for me, or you’re not. I like you back, or I don’t. Especially when it comes to me, I am not easily impressed these days, nor do I like people so quickly, but when I do, I am smitten. I am downright ‘I want to see you, tell you secrets and friggin’ just chhhiiiiilllllll’ sorta-dealy. I will make the effort and take strides to let you know that you have my attention… if you want it.

As of late, I am so confused from the lack of communication, my above-and-beyond efforts, and I just straight up feel like a loser for putting myself so out there. Maybe he’s just not that into me. I can take the hint.

There is too much swagger gone to waste waiting around for someone to get it. I shall go about my own business and will hopefully come across someone who will be eager to reserve my time for a Friday night date, or at least give me a call to want to know how I am. Until then, I no longer care to be the one to initiate movements with the opposite gender. It is draining.

Speaking of drained, slumberland is calling.

I’ve spoken my piece.

Peace.

or are you all stupid? Thanks for the reinforcement.

Not only stupid, but blind too. You are all stupid and blind.

It’s finally the end of a long week that can only be summarized best by JJ Wilson: “Char, what is up with the major bipolar facebook statuses?!” No consistency whatsoever this week. I guess you can say I allowed myself to get caught up with a lot of garbage thoughts about things that really aren’t as bad as it seems. Things are never as bad as it seems. 

The day has been therapeutic. I woke up, showered, was picked up by my buddy, Kevin, who was out to prove that delicious dim sum exists and that I mustn’t make drastic final decisions until I go to Bright Pearl. Located in Kensington/Chinatown, this resto was formally a funeral home. [Insert expressionless face here.] Ahh, the sounds of whirring cart wheels, random shouts in cantonese by old ladies with tattooed eyebrows, and the smell of chicken feet are what completed my experience. Halfway through our meal, after hearing the dim sum waitress offer us tripe and beef lips, I commented that I was still not convinced. I don’t know why small little dishes of pure protein don’t appeal to me. I love black beaned beef over rice. No if’s, and’s or but’s. We were soon joined by Kevin’s sister, Carmen, who reinforced our Asian Day, and the three of us reminisced together our experiences at the Warehouse Sale in Niagara Falls. A reunion is in order before I vacate Toronto. Oh helllssss yeah.

We soon parted, and I perused down Queen St. to check in on Rachie Pooh gettin’ her hurr did at Civello. We quickly caught up on the day, and I was off again, but this time northbound to the Granby residence. Greeted by Jen and Brit on the patio, the three of us sat, did a bit of shootin’ the sh*t, and watched the sun go down behind Toronto’s downtown buildings. I never have a dull moment with those two. We are forever commenting that our conversations need to be recorded because amusement there is undeniable. We talk about silly things, we talk about annoying things, but most importantly, we talk ‘real talks.‘ Much learned from today’s session, that’s for sure.

We hugged goodbye, and I was on my way once more. During the subway ride home, I decided to take a detour and went to see what’s poppin’ at VV. This is by far, the best VV I have ever been in, EVVVEERRRRR!!! I spent probably a solid two hours sifting through goods and scooped up $23 dollars worth of awesome. Two vintage belts, earrings, a pair of high-waisted denim jeans, and a skirt that I’ve converted into a dress. Retail therapy, especially when it’s ridiculously frugal, is exactly what I needed.

I’m home now. I made myself a delicious dinner of poulet avec pasta dans cream of chicken soup (with a touch of BBQ/honey — makes an amazing sauce!!) I silently bailed on all Friday night plans. A night of solitude writing a song, recording, and story-boarding is what needs to happen currently. That and… oh… the dishes, my laundry, packing/organizing unwanted shoes and clothes. I get so productive when Jenno goes home to Vancouver. 

Time is tickin’ and my final days in this beautiful basement suite are nearing. I will miss this place dearly. In the mean time, I advise everyone to take advantage of April, it will be the last you will see of me before summer arrives. 

Mmm. 

Raul Midon is singing to me, the laundry is done, and the dishes beckon for my attention. 

I’ve spoken my piece.

Peace.

She rushes around the empty suite gathering her things. Lipstick, check. Wallet, check. Keys, check. The typical ‘get-ready’ montage of a woman putting together a last minute outfit is sequenced to ‘Move on Up’ by Curtis Mayfield. Her black ankle-cut boots click-clack on the hardwood floors as she makes her way into the bathroom to primp up her hair. Down? Up? Ugh. She chooses to compromise somewhere in between.

In the midst of her busyness, her eyes take hold of her reflection in the mirror. She pauses. She remembers this look. She remembers the exact same feelings she felt that day as she stares back into her own deep, brown eyes. She remembers her words.

“I will not cry. I will not cry. You are worth fighting for. One day, I promise you, you will get exactly what you deserve…”

She snaps back to two years later and asks herself what the hell she thinks she’s doing.

She is tired of fighting. She is tired of convincing. She is tired of working. She has felt this before, she has gone through it, and she has been hurt by it. She knows better than to allow herself to go through it all over again.

She removes her jacket. She clips off her earrings. She slides into bed and wonders when that day will finally arrive…

There is some sort of hero complex in me that I have never fully acknowledged. Maybe it’s a potential I see, maybe it’s this notion that I am being used for a greater purpose in a particular circumstance, but whatever it is, I gravitate towards it. Instinctively. I’m not going to lie, it’s a tug-of-war between selflessness and selfishness. Selfless, for obvious reasons, and selfish,  because sometimes I need to tell myself I need to step away. I am exerting too much effort in something that will remain indifferent. Some people are okay with that. At the end of the day, I’m not. Never have been, never will. 

I will not do my heart a disservice by justifying and compromising what I actually want, and what I hope is one day available to me. I’ve done it time and time again, and it’s only left me battered and bruised. The heart is always whole, I know what makes me complete, but there are scars and stitches for a reason. They are a reminder to always listen, listen, listen. 

Recent life situations as of late only prove that I know my value, and I must be a stand for it.

At the end of the day, a little disappointment is nothing compared to knowing I chose to ignore myself. 

I’ve spoken my piece.

Peace.

First post to a new blog. 

Secretly, I have two other ones I’ve made that are still in the works. I laughed to myself five minutes ago because awhile ago I tried to create an account using ‘charloro’ and became SO annoyed that it was already taken! I said to myself, ‘WHO THE HELL could possibly be another char loro, TAKE the name, and not even use up their blog!?’ I felt like messaging this person and saying, ‘Um, excuse me, for the protection of my full name, I would love it if you deleted your blog since it’s not in use, and let ME have it. THANKS.’

… that conversation with myself happened about… ohhhh… a month ago.

Today I found out I was the one who created the blog under ‘char loro.’

I. am. a. LOSER.

–Moving on. 

I don’t enjoy nerdy computer talk, html, CSS?! Widgets?!? What is this business??? The last time I was seriously on frequent blogging, it was called xanga, and all I had to do was type a bunch of meaningful/meaningless thoughts and click ‘Submit.’ I don’t understand all this extra business. It’s a headache. I’m actually pretty annoyed about it. Don’t expect a fancy looking blog here. Nothing is special except for perhaps my words. Oh, and this clever little photo as my header, c/o Sir Nathan Santos. Fitting to my theme — looks like I’m thinkin’ up something real hard and real good. Lies. I am only at Fran’s wondering if I should risk it and order their Eggs Benny when I know the best one is from Eggspectation. Needless to say, the Eggs Benny was garbage and I lived out the rest of my afternoon in shameless regret. 

Blast.

Expect more soon. I am indeed a mouthful.

I’ve spoken my piece.

Peace.