Post inspired by Mr. Joe Bougher’s idea to see what we’d write for our very last post. Photo taken July 7, 2004 before this blog was even a thought and before I’d done any of the growing I’ve done since then.

If I’ve met you (face to face or online, no matter) and we’ve had a conversation, you will always be in my heart.

Before I go on, I just want you to know that I wish I had blogged to you more often. Just about every day since I created this blog in April 2005 after I finished my Master’s degree, I think about things I’d like to blog about and photos that I’d like to share with you. But weeks went by and all of a sudden it was a new year.

Moving along.

One of the (many) things I’ve learned while I’ve had this blog is that my heart and my brain are very much connected. Some people can easily make decisions with their heart with which their head won’t agree. Some people can easily make decisions with their head with which their heart won’t agree. I cannot easily do either. This causes me heartache. I’ve lost many opportunities because of this. I have a hard time not being Melanie all of the time, flaws and all.

I can remember one year (I was in my teens) at Corn and Apple (the local summer festival) I really wanted a slave bracelet (“a wrist bracelet joined to a ring by a chain”) and I was very excited that I’d saved the money to buy one. I went to all the vendors and found the one I wanted. It had a yin-yang symbol on it and I loved it. I have large fingers, so I made sure it fit the finger I wanted it to fit. It was $27, which was a lot of money to me. There were a lot of people and the vendor was hurrying me along as she didn’t like that I was touching things. Now that I think about it, I was a punk kid so she probably thought that I was going to take it. So I rushed. And I bought it.

Heart before head. I wanted the bracelet bad.

As I was walking away, I tried to put it on. The ring fits. The bracelet does not. My stomach drops. I turn around to a huge “NO REFUNDS” sign. I panic. I turn around and turn on the charm while trying not to cry. It works. I have my $27 back. But no bracelet.

Why is this story important?

I’m still sick to my stomach every time I think about this. Writing this down was hard. The anxiety I felt weighed on me and the guilt I felt for making a rash decision haunted me for a very long time. I had nightmares about it and can remember coming into my parent’s bedroom one night in tears because I couldn’t get back to sleep.

What this shows about me: I think about things. I mull things over. I replay events over and over again in my head, both good and bad. What if I had said that? What if I had done that? What if I had blogged more? What if I’d tweeted less? What if I hadn’t told people that I loved them?

So. If this were my last post, this is what I’d want to say:

I love you Dad. I love you Mom. I love you little sister. I love you little brother. I love you Joe. I love all of the family members who are up in heaven watching down.

I love you Buttons. I love you Clawdia. I love you Pawlyanna. I love you Shadow. I love you Shelby. I love all of the pets who are up in heaven getting belly rubs for eternity.

To my dearest lady and gentlemen friends (in the order we met) CG, ZY, AH, VN, OH, VB, JS, EM, JD, DZ: You are loved.

To the little kiddos out there that I’ve had the pleasure of meeting: You are loved.

To all of you: If I’ve met you and we’ve had a conversation, you will always be in my heart.

There are 500 photos in the queue and 500 stories to go with each of them. But rather than keep you waiting, I thought I’d introduce you to the relaxed Melanie that Joe caught on camera one evening while the family played Scrabble on the deck while the sun set over the barn. I love the farm and I loved a relaxing week off with Joe.

I had a great time. So great a time that I came home completely exhausted and had to sleep for a week before I got back on schedule. Well, kind of.

As I mentioned on Twitter, my first thoughts of home turn back to the job hunt. Which in turn gives me anxiety and sleepless nights. Which were amplified by the fact that I had just had a wonderful week at home with my family where I didn’t let myself worry about money or jobs or anything. For a whole week. It was great. So in addition to vacation fatigue, job stress, and PMS (it’s a great thing eh?) I’ve had a rough week.

Today things turned around though. One of the things I forget when I’m down is that I need to not just stay confined to my little bubble. Even though Joe is around to bump into my bubble on a daily basis, if I’m not careful it gets very cramped and lonely. Thoughts of feeling fat and unemployed and stupid and unlovable run rampant. But thanks to an email today from one of my best girl friends and a phone call shortly thereafter, I realized that I’m not alone in this big mean world.

And I felt better. And I realized even more things.

I think I have this job thing figured out, but I’m going to have to leave you all hanging as to what that is until I get it confirmed for sure. Joe and I are finally tackling the apartment. Clutter and mess in the apartment is a huge indicator of my mental well being, so getting that straightened out will come with great relief. We still have 2x lots of things (two kitchen shelves, two sets of cutlery, two sets of dishes) and so about half has to go. And with the heat it’s been less than motivating to start carting stuff to the thrift store. The cats are lovely and cuddly and glad to have us back. Other than things are a bit financially strained everything is great.

Everything is great.

It’s nice to say that once and a while.

My last post summed things up pretty well. I still don’t have any photos of unicorns or rainbows, but I’m working on it. Instead you can have a photo I took on Easter weekend on a chilly beach in Sudbury.

Summer is here and I’m preparing for a week of vacation in sunny Manitoba. I’m knitting up a storm because I’ve not used these past six months to finish my family’s Christmas presents. I’m one and a half down, two and a half to go. There will be many photos of finished projects once they are blocked and such, so stay tuned!

Much progress has been made in the cleaning of the apartment and the brain/soul searching I’ve been doing. Applying for jobs once again is a humbling and frustrating experience. So many of the jobs I’d love to do and I am perfectly qualified for are being posted, but it’s so obvious that they are being posted for someone already in the position. Requiring 2.46 years experience in the position is kind of a dead giveaway. Okay maybe I’m exaggerating.

I’ve had a lot of ups and downs in my (very short less than five year) career. And I get caught up in them. When really I need to focus on the bills. Because sometimes little details get lost in the big picture. For the first time ever I’m working on having more than one iron in the fire (even though there is one really big iron right now that I’m not talking about for fear of jinxing it) and we’ll see how it goes.

But that will wait. At least until I get home from Manitoba. I plan on taking lots of photos. And doing yard work. And working on super secret projects. And hopefully at least once being able to dabble my toes in one of Manitoba’s fine lakes. Will it be Lake Minnewasta or Lake Winnipeg? Who knows!

But most of all I’m looking forward to spending quality time with Mom, Dad, little sister, and little brother. I love being in Toronto and I loved being in Ottawa. But I love my family like bonkers and it’s so terrible to be away from them. They worry about me being jobless and being able to provide for myself while being so far away. I worry about that too. Someday I want to have a job where I can have the flexibility to go home for a week and it not be Christmas time. I’m lucky that Joe was able to get this week off work. I’m lucky (and unlucky at the same time) that I’m able to go because I don’t have a job.

The soul searching continues. And the knitting. Oh gosh the knitting.

I’m happy.

Like rainbows and unicorns happy.

That’s right, I said it. I’m being happy just been being.

I’m not having to capture moments with Joe because they are so few and far between. I’m not travelling between Ottawa and Toronto on a cramped bus. I’m not having panic attacks about work. I’ve had enough contracts to help Joe make sure we’re eating. I’ve had lots of cuddle time with my cats. I call Mom and Dad and tell them about my day and I don’t whine and complain. I’m volunteering more. I’m meeting new people. In fact, I met some really great people tonight and hope I can hang with them more often.

My biggest problem at the moment is PMS. But that’s a short-lived problem. My biggest worry? What I’ll pack for my upcoming trip to Manitoba.

That’s right, I’m not worried about cleaning (apartment is a mess, oh well) or anything. I’m just happy being.

So beware. Lots of ideas are brewing, especially ones that might help me stay in this self-employed state of bliss.

That includes a lot more photos to make up for all the ones I’ve not taken recently. Especially ones of rainbows and unicorns.

/vanishes

Internet: I talk a lot about Him (and those of you know know me know I ain’t talkin’ bout Jesus) and yesterday I (re)blogged about the night we met. I also wasn’t feeling well yesterday. Still not feeling 100% today. So many feelings, eh?

Joe a rather awesome guy who just happened to live in another city when we met. He hated to talk on the phone, but he talked to me on the phone almost every day for nine months. He’s a rather awesome guy who I’d only see when I went to Toronto or when he came to Ottawa. Which meant if we were lucky, we’d see each other twice a month for a weekend.

This photo was taken by Joe just after noon, three days before my 28th birthday. It was taken on one of the first extended visits we’d had with each other.

I wasn’t feeling the greatest, but I was feeling well enough to make it to the top of the Cup & Saucer, a lovely hiking trail on Manitoulin Island. One of the main reasons that I was feeling up to it was that I wasn’t carrying around 50lbs that was there the year before. Which is why you get to see a full body shot.

We were visiting his family camp as I was on my week long birthday celebration holiday. We spent Labour Day at camp, went back to Toronto and dealt with me exhausting myself while I was still a bit under the weather. But it was a great week. Suffice it to say, I’ve been a bit busy. Life changing busy.

I started this blog (I know, you’ve heard this before) in April 2005 as a way for me to document my adventures in the “real world”. It wasn’t long before I began working for the federal public service.

And here we are, over five years later. Since I’ve just recently re-launched the blog, the stories aren’t all here yet. But I’ve got five years of posts waiting to be edited and re-shared with you all.

Don’t worry if it’s kind of a blur to you. It’s kind of a blur to me as well. During that time I had one major nervous breakdown and a couple of smaller ones. But everything before January 1, 2010? That was Chapter 1.

Chapter 2 promises to be more interesting. I’m happier than I’ve ever been, and boy do I have stories to tell.

So what’s was so special about January 1, 2010? Other than it was over six months ago and I’ve still not blogged about it?

On New Year’s Eve Joe came to Ottawa and whisked me (and my kittens) away on his black steed (okay it was a black hatchback) to Toronto. We arrived at 11:30 pm. Enough time to go to Jug Town for a bottle of orange pop and a box of kitty litter. We toasted the new year and promptly fell into bed. Well, onto the futon mattress on the floor. I had hired movers, so my stuff arrived the following Tuesday. It’s still kind of not unpacked. So no photos have been taken. But Joe, the kittens, and I are very happy in our well located, reasonably priced Toronto apartment. Even if it is a mess.

I’d had enough with the job I was in. I felt like I’d become wallpaper and couldn’t get ahead. Or a break. When I made the decision to move, I was coming up on the end of an acting assignment and there was really no hope for anything after that. Management had done what they could, but it really looked as though I was going back to being a junior analyst after I’d spent a year and a half as a “full” program (and even Senior) officer. With the long distance relationship I was using my already too expensive apartment like a hotel. I was able to walk to and from work, but I was so exhausted/depressed/disheartened that the five blocks seemed like an eternity.

It was a good choice. In late January I learned that I’d failed the competition I’d been in for my branch. I’m rather fond of the saying “if you don’t have anything nice to say…” so I’ll leave it at that. But had I been in Ottawa for that and had Joe and I been apart when I got that email, I probably still would be bawling on the floor. My experiences in the public service had very much been of the “If anything bad can happen, it will happen” variety. It probably isn’t that way for everyone. But it was my reality. Well, at least until last January.

For six month’s I’ve woke up on Monday mornings (okay, afternoons) and didn’t feel a ball of dread in my stomach. Even though I’ve taken off the golden handcuffs (for at least six more months) and given up all the security and benefits that go along with them, I feel more free than I’ve ever felt. I’ve gone through bits of my belongings and my blog and started sharing things or throwing them out. I’m glad that I can say that a chapter of my life has come and gone.

Now, on to Chapter 2.

You might have been wondering where I’ve been. My presence here comes in fits and spurts it seems. I’m trying to fix that. I’m getting a lot of help from Joe. I’m actually planning on launching another blog. I know, two blogs for me to post on in fits and spurts! The real reason for not posting this time? I just finished a ginormous writing contract. I traveled two and from the office for three weeks. It was nice. I’ve enjoyed sleeping in yesterday and today. And I’ll probably enjoy it again tomorrow. And then maybe I’ll worry about finding more work.

I’m also in a bit of a down period right now, but it’s kind of par for the course when you’re a girl. Bless Joe for not suffocating me with a pillow. A PMS migraine is lurking and so I’m having trouble sleeping. And me having trouble sleeping means I’m super cranky. Which means I probably shouldn’t blog unsupervised. But really with no supervisor there is no one stopping me.

I was planning on not ending my last posting spree with the downer that was my series “On being dumped”. I had planned on ending it with this post, but I never got around to it. This is kind of the end of that, but really it’s the beginning of something better.

It’s the beginning of having someone in my life who no matter how many bad dreams I have about him leaving, he kisses me and says I’m stuck with him forever. Or is he stuck with me forever? I can’t remember for sure.

And for those of you who like the rose (Joe’s rose, i) and don’t watch my Flickr stream like a hawk: Joe’s rose, ii.

Originally posted on August 12, 2009

The Globe and Mail asked me: Do you believe in ‘the one’? [Survey is now closed, comments are pretty great though.]

Regardless of the results of that survey, the gist of it is: yes.

I believe in the one…
…who I want to spend all of my time with.
…who I immediately want to tell all of my news to, good or bad.
…who I want to ensure is the happiest person on earth.
…who is in my thoughts as soon as I wake up, all day, and before I go to bed.

I believe that there is one person out there for you that will be your best friend till the bitter end and not give up on you when even you’ve given up on yourself. I don’t believe that this person is predestined to be with you or that you’ll even meet this person. I believe that some people have to try and fail a number of times before they find that person. I believe that some people are lucky enough to find that person right away. I believe that with love and patience and effort, anything is possible.

I just got off the phone with the one as I wanted to make sure that he was okay with me talking about this online. I told him that I thought he was the one, and he was okay with that. So he’s the one that I want to spend all of my time with and all that jazz. Even though I wasn’t very good at blogging regularly before him, it certainly has been more difficult after him. Not that I’m blaming him or anything. Ahem.

I asked my ex once if he believed in “the one”. We were sitting on the futon and it was facing the big windows in our apartment and he was sitting straight and looking out towards the windows and I was sitting facing him. His answer was a flat out no, which immediately made me feel bad for suggesting such a silly thing. This should have been red flag a bajillion and two. But at the time I loved him more than anything else believed he was the one, and I fought hard to keep him. And it turns out he was right, he didn’t believe in “the one” and dumped me rather unceremoniously. And if I’m honest with myself I knew that he wasn’t the one a long time before I found that note taped to my wall with duct tape.

It took me over two years to muster up the courage to give my heart to someone, over two years of thinking and creating standards for myself and listening to those around me and not just rushing in head first and making more mistakes than I had time to fix. I thought I was broken beyond repair and that I’d never find anyone, let alone ‘the one’. Luckily I had people (especially V) who didn’t let me think that way all the time.

But then one night I decided that I would peel myself out of bed, put on some nice clothes (blue jeans, cute blue shoes with flowers on them, brown t-shirt, black shawl, gold necklace from my grandmother, brown beaded earrings from E.), put on some makeup (the usual black mascara, black eyeliner, sparkly bronze eyeliner, shiny lip gloss), walk outside and buy a birthday card and attend the birthday celebration of a friend of mine. It was a supper at Café Paradiso followed by dancing at The Rainbow and I had convinced myself that I would go to the supper and not drink too much and go home early.

And then my world changed.

After an evening of gorgeous food (I had the vegetarian pasta, it was one of my first meals out as a flexitarian. He had the lamb. I was really jealous) and loud funk music, I knew that I was on to something good.

I realize that there is almost a rose theme to these posts! Completely untended and my love of roses has nothing to do with my breakup being dumped. I realized that there is an important distinction that I’ve made for myself that makes me feel a whole bunch better about the situation.

I didn’t get to go through a breakup. There was no negotiation, no goodbyes. I was dumped. No wonder I felt (and sometimes still feel) like garbage.

This post was an important step for me. I felt a lot of guilt for the bridges that had gone unmaintained for years and posting this made me feel as though I’d put myself out there and tried. At least a little bit.

This is the last of the original “on being dumped” series. It kind of abruptly ended when I was focusing my time on making a new relationship work as opposed to mulling over an old one. But then again, it’s only been since the relationship that I’m in that I’ve been able to share so openly and honestly how I’m feeling.

But I promise you this, it won’t be the last. They just won’t come as often as they have the past couple of days. But now at least you are up to speed!

Originally posted: August 19, 2009

I’m trying to scan more photos as I’m trying to piece together my life between 1999 and 2006. I did a few scans when I first bought my scanner (the photo above included) but have yet to do anymore. The time between 2006 and today has also been rough.

I don’t for a second want to go back to when I was in this photo. Even though then, both of my grandmothers were still alive and I still got to spend every day with my family. My Dad was sick. I longed for adventure.

I didn’t have a Bachelors degree in Political Science, I certainly didn’t have a Masters degree in Canadian Studies. I hadn’t been a Senate Page. I hadn’t been a Parliamentary Intern in both the House of Commons in Ottawa and in London. I hadn’t spent 4 years gaining invaluable work and life experience as a public servant in Ottawa (August 24 is my 4 year anniversary of walking into the building where i currently work).

In this photo, I’d never been kissed, never had a boyfriend. I didn’t have two glorious cats who are the best roommates on earth. I had never met Him. I hadn’t met some of the greatest people in my life (I’d name you but honestly if I forgot one of you I’d not be able to forgive myself. If you wish you were one of the people I’d name, you are one of them). I’d not been to my little sister’s beautiful wedding.  I’d not be sitting right here right now writing this blog post.

I had never been dumped.

Being dumped was a terrible experience. Being dumped meant that all of the effort that I had put into the relationship and sacrifices I had made for that relationship didn’t matter. It meant that six years of compromises and shaving off bits of myself so that we could fit better together and so that our relationship could work didn’t matter. I was left sobbing in the middle of the apartment, not eating and just waiting after every time I heard the elevator doors open (my apartment is right beside them) that there would be a knock on the door and the words that would make the nightmare stop.

I felt as though I had done a terrible thing. I had sacrificed so many things for a relationship that was over with a note duct taped to my wall. I had sacrificed time with my family every time I went home to Manitoba so that I could spend time on the phone with him. I had sacrificed friendships to develop a relationship with someone I wholly believed was my best friend and who I believed I would be with forever. Which is how I justified the sacrifices. Because they were worth it.

I’ve learned something. I’ve learned not to sacrifice bits of myself that are important, because you never know when you’re going to have to go back and make six years worth of apologies for lost time. I feel so much guilt, sometimes it’s so overwhelming that I just try and ignore it. Other times I realize that though I didn’t really burn bridges that I’d be more comfortable about asking for help if the bridges were in better repair. So this post is dedicated to repairing bridges.

I have no idea who reads my blog. I barely know how to access my site statistics, I have no idea who subscribes to the feed. I know that I import the posts as notes into my Facebook account. I know that I get lovely comments on occasion from lovely people.

But if you read this and you’d like me to repair our bridge, please let me know. I’m right now trying to do the best I can but I’m spreading myself thin and getting overwhelmed. I don’t know what bridges were out there and who cares to reconnect. So if you read this and you want me to make you cookies or go to coffee or let you yell at me while I sit quietly, let me know.

For those of you who don’t want to let me know, I’m in the process of importing all of the blog entries I’ve ever written into this blog. For the longest time I have struggled with what I wanted to share and what I’ve shared. I figure at the very least that you all deserve to root through the contents of my last six years and see if there is anything good.

I’ve hung the big old “Under Construction” sign on my network of bridges people. Through the power of the Internet I hope we can get in touch.

http://herrealworld.com/

http://flickr.com/photos/herrealworld/

http://twitter.com/herrealworld/

http://facebook.com/herrealworld/

Re-reading this post made me look back at myself and think about how kind I must have been feeling the day I wrote it. I can tell I was upset (because it doesn’t really have a very good flow) and that I wanted to make sure I didn’t make an ass out of myself. This is the second post (chronologically) where I talk about being dumped (I think, looking back in my archives is dangerous because I spend a bajillion hours reminiscing instead of finishing the post).

In case it’s not clear below, I wrote this post as I was cleaning out my desk at work (we were moving offices) and I found a note from the ex tucked away. It was a card from the roses (pictured above) that I got for some reason. All I remember is that I really deserved the roses.

I think I was trying to be artistic because I had a vivid memory of red roses from when we met (I didn’t get them though, the roommate did) and pull this whole post together with the red rose theme. Looking back I don’t think it worked, but I’m sharing a post from my past so I’m gonna leave it as is.

What I will say is that red roses are (and continue to be) my favourite flower. Apologies that the photo is blurry, but I kind of like it that way.

Originally posted: August 13, 2009

The precursor to my being dumped story begins in my first year of university during reading week. Those who were geographically close enough to family had gone home to visit them, those of us who weren’t stayed and did more of nothing than usual. It was just after Valentine’s Day and I had been lamenting to myself over the fact that for the 18th time in a row, I was single.

My roommate had her boyfriend come to visit her and he had gotten her two dozen roses and I was a tad jealous but quite happy that I was able to help him get a really good deal on them in the Byward Market. I helped her modify of my big water bottles as a vase and I was able to enjoy them as we shared a room.

There was a guy on our floor that was always very sweet and often girls would say “Oh I wish I could marry you!” to him. Very friendly, open-hearted, kind. I will admit that I had developed crushes on many of the guys on the floor (you were all so awesome!), but one evening (and for the first time ever) that crush became something more.

I’d been waiting for this forever. This being a relationship. I had no idea what I was getting into; I just knew that I wanted it. And all of a sudden it was almost seven years later and I was sobbing into my telephone to anyone who would listen about how he left me that night and shoved his keys under the door. I have never spoken to him since.

It’s strange how things work out. The end of that story was a typed note signed with an orange Sharpie red duct taped to my wall that told me how fucking much he loved me and that he’d call me in a few days about bills.

The beginning of my being dumped story was a note that I found stuffed into my hardcopy of the Values and Ethics Code for the Public Service while cleaning my office for our move across the river. The note was attached to a dozen roses (one of which is pictured above) that was sent to my workplace and said “love me forever, the ex”. I looked at it, shook my head, and threw it in the recycling bin.

This story won’t be about my relationship with my ex. That ended rather crudely on December 5, 2006. This story will be about how being dumped made me into the woman I am today. And though there will be bits and pieces of the story of that relationship mixed up in this story and even though I (and a number of medical professionals and therapists) think what he did to me was inhumane, I’m going to do my best to respect the ex’s privacy.

I hope you learn as much from this as I did, I am certainly going to learn a lot from writing this.

The only problem with this one is that it was during my “in denial” stage where I blogged about things that weren’t true to make it seem like I was okay. So to better show you how I used to do that, I’ve used strike through quite liberally in this update. And italics are additions that I made today. Enjoy!

Originally posted: October 9, 2008

I’ve been tagged by J., and am tagging everyone!

1. I aboslutely adore making lists, especially lists about me.  I think I need to do a new 100 Things About Me list, because the old one is from a much different time.  I’m actually said that my lists category only has one entry in it.  Well two now, including this.  My love of lists expands to chore lists (I like making the lists, not doing the chores), grocery lists, lists of things I’d like to buy…the list goes on! This is all still 100% true.

2. I’m a big fan of Facebook.  I use Twitter to update my status, and I upload most of the photos from my iPhone.  I post links and pictures that I really like, and want to share.  I import this blog so that people can read my posts from there. (Hi people who read my posts via Facebook!)  I play Tiny Adventures I don’t even remember what this is, maybe Dungeons and Dragons related? and keep track of books that I read.  I just love, love, love Facebook. Facebook is mostly for stalking people. I’ve got a page there for this webpage so that people who choose to see my blog posts and if they ever get the Twitter app to work I’ll be a bit happier. But still. Ugh. Smart Twitter for Pages saves the day. After writing this post I fiddled some more and finally found a solution. This Facebook apps filters out all the @’s and the RT’s and the #hashtags so that my Facebook peeps are not subjected to Twitter clutter. /cheer

3. I used to play Dungeons and Dragons.  And I love it.  Right now I’m a 12th level monk, who is a kalashtar named Cosmaashana.  I recently realized that I accidentally removed all of my previous posts on her when I revamped the blog, so I’ll be putting those back up pronto.  You will notice that her name has a link, and all of the posts will eventually be in the Cosmaashana category. I have posts kicking around somewhere of some creative writing that I did with this character, I’m sure I’ll post them someday. I’m currently working on a related but super secret project that involves a sketchbook, some pencils, a canvas and some paint.  I’m sure you’ll hear about it soon. I’m sure you won’t hear about it soon as I have no idea what it was. I can assure you that I have plenty of sketchbooks, pencils, canvas, and paint laying around the house though. Chances are I was going to illustrate one of the adventures, but I can’t really say for sure. As a side note, I really would like to start playing again. I’m thinking maybe even trying to be a Dungeon Master. We shall see. Until then I’ve started a Draenei Priest named Cosmaashana in World of Warcraft to tide me over.

4. I love my job. I said that because I was still in it. I don’t talk about my job on my blog, but that’s because I’d rather not.  This is generally a good policy and I still stick to it. I didn’t say anything about writing about jobs I’m not in at the moment. And technically I’m just on personal leave so we’ll see. I also don’t talk about my *really* personal life either. Yes, I do. Well parts of it. I’ll tell you all anything (but not everything) I tell my Mom. In both cases it’s because things happen at work and in my *really* personal life that implicate other people, other people who might not want to be talked about on the internet.  Back to my job.  I really love it, even if sometimes It’s going terribly.  The transition between being a student and being a professional has been a hard one, but I can say I think I’m finally at the beginning of “there”.  I’ve learned some lessons the hard way, but that’s sometimes how life goes. Amen.

5.  I’m in love with James Bond, and my favourite James Bond is Daniel Craig.  Who I often get mixed up with Clive Owen.  But it’s definitely Daniel Craig that I am in love with, and not Clive Owen.  This may or may not have anything to do with this picture.  It also may or may not have anything to do the swim trunks that he’s wearing.  But let me assure you, my love of James Bond runs much deeper than any physical attraction I may or may not have to Daniel Craig. I was in love with James Bond because the ex liked it. I now think James Bond is okay to watch and more think that Daniel Craig is hot. The end.

6. I am in love with all things England.  The time I spent in London is one of the most memorable times in my life, and the people I lived with and the people I visited that I had met when they came to Canada are some of the dearest and most wonderful people on earth.  I love the tradition, I love the buildings, I love the hundreds of years of history, I love the parliamentary system, I love the Tube, I just love, love, love all things England.  I terribly want to go back when I’m not dirt poor. Still 100% true.

7. I am a terrible procrastinator.  Right now I’m procrastinating about going home and getting cleaned up for my parent’s arrival tomorrow evening.  I’ve been a procrastinator my whole life, just ask my Mom about my project about cows that I did in Grade Three.  I should really scan that sucker and post it. Once again, 100% me.

I guess that wasn’t so bad, eh?

• Thank the person who gave them this award/roped them into this meme. (Thanks Bad Mummy!)
• Share 7 things about myself.
• Pass the award along to 15 bloggers who I’ve recently discovered and that I think are fantastic! I’m not very good at tagging people, so if you read this…you are tagged!

I also think it’s worth noting that seven things is really too easy. The last list I did about myself (in 2005! When I started blogging!) was 100 things. Without any further adoooo, here we go!

1. I’ve got the best boyfriend on earth. He’s the brother of a friend from Ottawa and we met at her birthday party. We started talking on the phone and the Internet and quite quickly realized that seeing each other in person quite regularly was something we wanted to do. We spent almost a year traveling between Ottawa and Toronto and then I decided that I was ready to pick up and start fresh in Toronto. And we’ve been living together ever since. I love him dearly and he doesn’t even annoy me one little bit ever.

2. I love working. I’m not a workaholic as I’m way too lazy for that. But when I have work to do that’s appreciated/that makes my brain work/that makes me feel needed I am in love! The money is of course nice, but much better is being able to communicate and collaborate and cheer each other on. And for your information, I’m on a contract right now that I LOVE TO BITS. This is big because I used to be very unhappy at work. I worked for the public service and had some very emotional and psychologically moments that affected me deeply.

3. I play World of Warcraft. In fact, I’m playing as I type this. I’ve been playing Horde since October 2006 (I think…) and I just recently started playing Alliance. I love both for different reason, but am right now really digging Alliance as it’s a whole new game. I have a level 80 druid, a level almost 80 paladin and two lowbies: a priest and a shaman. As you can tell, I love playing classes capable of healing. My favourite races to play are tauren, draenei, and night elf.  I’ve been playing Warcraft since the beginning and I love everything about it: the lore, the graphics, the everything!

4. I have gained and now lost a significant amount of weight in my 28 years on this planet. My main gain happened in university and the leadup to entering the public service. Being unceremoniously dumped added the final 20 pounds. I went to the doctor and she of course wanted me to lose weight and provided a much needed push. My little sister was also getting married and I didn’t want to be the fat sister bridesmaid. I was still a chubby sister bridesmaid, but as of the wedding I’d lost almost 50 pounds. That’s been a year now and I’ve not really made much of an effort, but thanks to changes in eating patterns my weight now starts with a two for the first time in a long time.

5. I call myself a writer these days and I’m quite happy about that. In my last list I mentioned that I wanted to call myself a writer so I’m happy to say that after five years I’ve finally come to terms with the fact that I am one! I had a bit of a rough go while I was working for the public service because I had a manager who pretty much destroyed any confidence I had about any of my skills, but since then I’ve had lots of opportunities to prove to myself and others that I can make writing happen with my fingers.

6. I love food and food related activities. I used to be an emotional eater and now I’m just an eater. And a maker. I love to make and eat things, or go out and eat things, or have someone make things for me so that I can eat them. I’m not a picky eater at all, but I’ve finally learned that I can say that I don’t prefer something and be okay with that. I’m not the biggest fan of some tofu related products (and soy can be pretty evil, more on that someday) but you deep fry it and chances are it goes in my belly. My favourite food are the wings of chickens: spicy or sweet or hot or saucy or not, I love ‘em all. And P.S. coffee rules.

7. I love my family more than anything. Perfect bookends: I started with Joe and for the finale I’ll talk about how awesome my Mom, my Dad, my little sister, and my little brother are. I have grown much closer to my family in the time that I’ve been away from Manitoba, and even more closer in the time since I was dumped. I realized then the importance of my support system and keeping it healthy. The phone and the Internet are lifelines to home and my visits are less far and few between.