the mightier word

I've always tried to live my life on the belief that my actions will speak louder than words. I'm really not one of many spoken words and I truly believe in the golden rule. Sometimes I think I'm even a bit of a pushover, having a hard time saying 'no'.

And then I realized real life is all just playground politics and that humans never outgrow the social mentality of grade schoolers. I try to teach my students to act compassionately and to make wise choices and yet all around me I feel despair at adults acting worse than my kids.

Now I know actions hold no impact. It's whoever can speak the loudest to the most people. We pry and scurry around for gossip like scavenging rats and we spread rumours and filth faster than the plague. Suddenly the reputation on which you've always based your actions on can be crumbled with just one loud word.

I don't speak loud enough in return.

And I don't feel I should have to otherwise I'm just another rat scurrying around.

spinsterhood

Impending spinsterhood comes sooner than expected. If one had asked me before, I would never have thought that I was a cat person. Cats were considered snobby, arrogant, and housebound. Dogs on the other hand are sociable, frolicky, and shares my love of outdoor adventures. But lately I find myself feeling contented to sit at home with a cup of tea and a throw over my lap on which a small kitten sleeps purring away.



My new joy on whom I've uncreatively bestowed the name of B.B. She greets me at the door, she talks incessantly, she plays with my shoes, and she purred her way into my heart. Are you still a cat lover if you only love one cat?

fashionista?

I don't like to shop, yet I care about how my clothes represent who I am and how I don't want to portray a conformity to the lacey, flowery, pink templates that all mainstream brands seem to think women want.

Sometimes when I dress in the morning, I wonder how others view me. I want to be seen as very carefree, as someone who prefers to loll about in a meadow of wildflowers absorbed in a book, as free as the wind to carry me off anywhere and everywhere. I don't like structure and I defy all matching rules. I love red shoes, black tops, tee-shirts with some witty representation (even if it is only to my own humour) or with a japanese print on it, baggy cotton pants, light cotton scarves, long printed skirts and colourful bracelets from exotic places. I hate wearing dresses and will usually wear my jeans underneath. My favourite outfit consists of my red red crocs, green paisley shift dress, comfy jeans, and a bright purple cardigan. And today, I bought the most perfect pair of orange-framed sunglasses to top up this wanderlusting confection.

Clothes present to others a part of our personality. It's the very first impression we make. Everyone is a fashionista in their own closeted way.

letting go

Adieu
Et tâche d'être heureux
J'ai perdu du temps
On est tellement bête
A vouloir cacher
Tous nos sentiments
Voilà que tu pars
Je te demande pardon
J'aurais dû te dire
Depuis si longtemps
Que je t'aimais tant

Va
Maintenant va t'en
J'apprendrai sans toi
A aimer le vent
L'air frais de la nuit
J'apprendrai sans toi
Avec les chenilles
Et les papillons
A tromper l'ennui
Ne traîne pas, adieu
Et tâche d'être heureux

~Le Petit Prince

out the door

of lollies, sweets, and sugar highs

Growing up, the highlight of the day was walking home after school and stopping by the corner store. All the school kids would crowd in around the counter where boxes and bins of candy covered every inch of the shelves and a nickel or dime can buy you a sugary treat bigger than you can fit into your mouth. Underneath all the packaging, all the candy were the same, 100% sugar designed to keep the kids on a sugar high and guaranteed to spoil dinner appetites. And the walk home... oh the joys of sucking on a sweet or inhaling the sugary pixy stixs all with a spring in your step. I'd take little nibbles or licks for maximum lasting power so that by the time you reach home, the sugar is still seeping in through the tastebuds. Sweet tarts, sour keys, and all the little hard candies were sucked on and not swallowed until dissolved into a salivary sugary memory. Those were the golden days of childhood.

fairytale magic and reality

“What if Prince Charming had never showed up? Would Snow White have slept in that glass coffin forever? Or would she have eventually woken up, spit out that apple, gotten a job, a health-care package, and a baby from her local neighborhood sperm bank? I can't help but wonder if inside every successful driven woman is just a princess waiting to be saved?” -Carrie Bradshaw "Sex in the City"

Fairytales frustrate me. Why do the women wait around for the men to show up and save them? We grow up on fairytales, Sleeping Beauty, Snow White, Cinderella... Are fairytales and chick flick movies distorting our idea of romance and finding the perfect mate? We hold out for Prince Charming but in reality, no men are that charming. There are flaws that movies never spotlight on and not all relationships end perfectly with a kiss and singing squirrels prancing about. And yet most girls still believe religiously in the fantasy that a guy will come charging on a white stallion and rescue them from the humdrum of their lives, showering them with princely gifts and serving their every whim. I mean of course, who wouldn't want that?

Are modern women realistic about men and relationships?