I want to feel good.


Real Love

… What is it?

Don’t ask me.

I have come to the conclusion that I have become somewhat of a borderline cynical realist about Love. I simply do not buy into the charm of The Story anymore. You know what I’m talking about. The Story — it’s how we embellish the truth of what’s taking place between two people to make it all shiny twinkley and magical, maybe even cue in background music and mood lighting, if you will. There is the exception of the very, very few, who I can say are ‘fairy tale’ status, but that is as rare as finding a diamond in a long strip of sandy beach.

This is not to say that I don’t think I’ll ever “find love” and will choose to remain single for the rest of my life. Please. Over dramatic. I have just had a strange realization with myself that I have become disinterested in pursuing anything with anyone because I am being realistic about the situation. The situation being, I am too young, to really give a sh*t. The effort, the dedication, the compromise, the time put forth in really giving a crap about someone? Holy. I’m exhausted.

Where does all this stem from? Perhaps my past ideals with romance, how it’s all “supposed to happen” and experiencing… that it doesn’t happen that way. It’s like your first kiss. The leg pops up and it’s pure bliss. Lies. It’s so awkward you half wish you were drunk. “Oh, is that a tongue? That’s kind of slimy, but apparently this is supposed to be freaking awesome. I don’t get it.” I called my best friend Amie post first kiss and asked her, “Amie, was your first kiss magical? I thought it was supposed to be magical.” The veil has been removed from my eyes.

Don’t assume that someone came along and has tainted me terribly to gain this perspective. There is no particular circumstance or individual this is targeted towards. Generally speaking, I look at all The Stories (and you know the epic stories that make my life), and much of them, in the Romance chapters, have lost all their essence.

Sad. Sad? Mmm. Unidentified emotion.

I believe this is just my current state and thought process until someone with incredible substance and swagger steps forth and rocks me upside the head. I don’t think I’m ready for him yet. Until then, there is a bag of Doritos with my name on it, and 3 episodes of How I Met Your Mother that I can watch before bed time.

I’ve spoken my piece.


Comments (1)

Take a Second.

It’s a funny feeling being back home. Being so removed from this bubble that is Vancouver and being reintroduced to it in a new light has had such a strange effect over me in the past few days. I instinctively pick up old habits — like not cooking for myself (what with food being constantly in the fridge and on the kitchen table), or bossing my little brother around to get me glasses of water and do my bidding. I also don’t see things the same way and part of me feels this pressure to live in the light of how people saw me before I left. I think that’s lame and I’m consciously aware of it. I have done too much growth in the last year and a bit to assimilate back into the old Char that we all once knew. 

The east coast flavor has left an irremovable taste in my mouth. I can’t NOT be who I’ve become, and I refuse to be suppressed by people’s condescending eyes and assuming thoughts that I once allowed to rule my actions. It’s what Toronto has done to me: I. Just. Don’t. Care… Sorry? Ha. For some its a shocker, and for those who I know are genuine and true peoples, it’s a relief. A breath of fresh air, really. I’m a freer, stronger, open-minded, deeper, darker, grimier individual than I’ve ever been. I’m pretty proud of it, not gunna lie. *Shrugs her shoulders*

Much to come in this following week. Work commences as of 9 hours from now and will consume most of my week. Other things on the agenda include getting together with old friends, my internship with a meeting at Bons on Broadway ($2.99 breakfast and crack coffee, baby!), and catching up on editing footage I’ve had since Toronto (I’m crazy backed up.) I’m very excited to work with new equipment my work has gotten most recently, and to learn, learn, learn. I’m thinking of making a trip to the Vancouver Art Gallery sometime this week as well and see what the latest exhibit is. I can’t even remember what it looks like in there anymore.

Time to get on the grind. 

Rain, go away. Sun, I invite you into my presence.

I’ve spoken my piece.




I think you are incredibly lame. Lame. Lame. Lame.

You actually, really irritate me.

Go away.


Friendly Manitoba.

Lies. I have not met one single friendly, approachable and just plain NICE person here in Winnipeg. Nobody smiles unless I make the first attempt. Nobody introduces themselves unless I stick my hand out… I just HATE reading this repetitive lie over and over and over again on every single license plate. You’re so deceiving, Manitoba!

The past few days have been enjoyable. Despite the fact that I feel like I gained 7 million pounds overnight, the people that are Joe’s people, are great. Imagine if you will, a city that lies on a barren flat land, everyone drives in cars, nobody walks, and there is nothing to do but eat… and drink. Such are the activities I partake in daily here. I believe this is the 5th day in a row my body has consumed alcohol in large amounts? Gross. Please strap me to a tread mill for three hours with weights on my ankles. Thanks, I’d appreciate it.

Gluttony is the reigning theme to this 5 day stopover on my way back home to Vancouver.

I shall go into further detail with scoops on this trip at another time when it’s not 3 in the morning and I really should be in bed. All I gotta say is… I’m real glad I’m here. =)

1.5 days left. Then it’s hometime, baby.

I’ve spoken my piece.