Though You Treat Me Like A Dancing Bear

Twelve years ago girl moves to new country. Boy meets girl. Boy likes girl. Girl is oblivious to his advances but happy to have a friend. Girl gets to know boy and goes to the movies with him (as friends). Boy is happy. Girl is happy, but in denial. Soon boy and girl start dating.

Skip to the end.

Girl and boy get married one year ago.

In New York (because we're trendy like that).

Two of the hardest things about marriage that no one warned me about? Creating and using a new signature and calling the boy husband. The most common question I get? (It's not what you think.) Everyone asks me "How's married life?" I feel their agreement when I tell them it's the same.

I may be one of the few people who went into marriage knowing nothing does (or should) change. Except for my name. But that was my choice.

Ah marriage, I avoided you for as long as I could, but in the end you are like the smoke monster. All show and no action. You're not as scary as I imagined you to be.

<3

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Because Jamaican Me Crazy

Relax.

It sounds easy, doesn't it?

Just relax.

What if relaxing makes me anxious?

(I'm normal, I swear.)

Later this week I'll be traveling to Jamaica. An all inclusive. This worries me.

I wonder about the accommodations. The weather. How strong the sun will be. What I'll feel like doing. That I won't use my time wisely. Maybe I'll drink too much (or not enough). If I'll sleep well or have enough sunblock. Maybe I'll get addicted to being lazy. Will I find any metal chickens? I might have to drink Jamaica rum. Frick.

I know, tough life, right? We're going with a large group. Everyone is excited for different reasons. The main reason I'm going, and what I'm most excited about, is our friends' wedding. On the beach. If nothing else goes the way I imagine, I know this will be awesome. Why? Because I remember seeing the spark in the first few minutes they met. And while I never imagined they would be getting married 4 years later, I can't say that I haven't been waiting for this day.

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And I Will Try To Fix You

Come December, I will have been a receptionist for seven years. A job I was told would be a "stepping stone" after graduation. A job I never expected to love. A job I never expected would change me. A job that, after all these years, still surprises me daily. Oh, and frustrates me daily. (These are both good things.)

I love meeting new people and making friends with my regular visitors. I love having something that keeps me busy all.day.long. I love when people realise the indirect power I have. I love being able to passive aggressively mess with jerks.

People can be absolutely nasty to people in a service related job. Whether it be a waiter, cashier, or receptionist. I'll never understand the need to be rude to another person. Especially someone who is trying to help you.

I'm not saying it's right to spit in someone's food. To put your bread on the bottom of the bag, or to send your calls directly to voicemail. I'm not even admitting these things happen on purpose.

But they might.

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I'll Be Better When I'm Older

At what point can you call yourself an adult? Is it a matter of age? Career? Wisdom? The concept of being an adult never appealed to me. I realise you can't escape it, I just wonder where that feeling of maturity comes from.

I used to think working full-time would make me feel older. Instead it has made me cynical (er, more so). Then I imagined getting married would do the trick. Go figure, nothing changed then either. If anything, I now wonder if I suck at being a grown up.

I don't clean. I stay up too late and sleep too little. Sometimes I eat cookie dough (with raw eggs for the double whammy) for dinner. I am sarcastic in nature and use naughty language.

On the other hand, I am employed full-time. I exercise regularly. I always pay my taxes and vote. I eat my vegetables and take my vitamins.

Maybe being adult means finding a balance rather than playing the comparison game. I hope that dirty jokes and staying up late always appeal to me. Whether it's "adult" or not is irrelevant.

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So Beautiful To Me Your Mystery

When I was 15 I moved from Canada to the United States. While my accent is a strange Wisconsin-Alberta blend, my thoughts are less of a melting pot. Things that I know from Canada, I don't expect to see in the U.S and vice versa. When something forces me to blend my memories, I get confused.

Like the Stanley Cup Final. The fact it's on my TV right now is awesome. I love hockey. However, Hockey=Canada. Fine, so I process this fact and adjust. I get to watch hockey on an American broadcasting channel. As the puck flies around I notice advertisements around the rink and I see companies like Tim Hortons, Rogers, and Canadian Tire. These are companies I know, but never see anymore. This does not compute.

I often tell people that the two countries are more similar than anyone will admit. Even though this is true, it's not until you look at the small details that you see what makes each countries special and unique. Are there similarities? Are there differences? Of course, just look closer.

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Put Me In A Room, Distraction Less

Procrastination is contagious. Here’s a list of 25 things I should be doing (in no particular order): 

1. Cleaning my house.
2. Going to bed at a normal time.
3. Changing my name on my credit cards (last thing!).
4. Updating this blog.
5. Writing back to a foreign exchange friend (from October).
6. Spending the last of my gift cards.
7. Writing my cousin back (from May).
8. Designing a poster for my work.
9. Dying my hair (priorities).
10. Cleaning my car (to sell it).
11. Planning a game night (it was never promised).
12. Visiting my family in Canada (that was promised).
13. Learning Norwegian (seriously).
14. Clothing shopping for a trip next month (see #6, hmmm).
15. Going strawberry picking (missed it last year).
16. Emptying my e-mail inbox (is 300 unread too many?).
17. Getting to work on time (see #2).
18. Watching the end of Prison Break (that show ended?).
19. Reading my book (from 6 months ago).
20. Baking cookies (per request).
21. Finishing this list.

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Get On The Plane, It's Fine. It's Fine.

I love gore. Every good movie should have a touch of it. I know I should like movies with happy endings, but those are the movies I can't stomach (or believe). Horror movies have a familiar pace and tone I enjoy. I've often said that all good movies have at least one proper decapitation. It may be surprising that there's three on-screen events I can't stand to watch.

1. People getting injected with needles. (Why do they always need to show close-ups of it?)
2. Teeth falling out. (The thought of this seriously keeps me up at night. Especially after one of my teeth broke and needed to be repaired.)
3. Vomiting. (Enough said.)

Serial killers who take you while you sleep? Psychopaths who enjoy torturing you? Ghosts who want to seek revenge? Sounds like a good time. Just don't touch my teeth.

PS: The horror movie that stuck with me the longest? The one I refuse to watch again? Final Destination. The movie wasn't scary to watch, but the idea that death would hunt me down still scares me.

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