Friday, December 21, 2012


Mi Ancla.

It's a song I've recently discovered, and I know and love.

I heard it one day when I was at my downlow, at my worst. It pulled me up from my misery and enveloped me in a big musical hug.
It was amazing.

I love music.

Monday, December 17, 2012


I really want to blog.
I really do.
But what to blog about?
How about pictures?
ISSA PUPPY. This is Baylee. She's my companion, like Rose and the Doctor (I'm still on Season 1...)

Here she is again... That's my foot off the edge of the couch.
She tends to do this a lot. Apparently I make a good chin rest. 

And one last time. Isn't she the cutest?!

Photo creds to my dad, except the first one, which I took. We took all of those up there with my mum's fancy new camera we gave her as an early Christmas present. Isn't it amazing?!?! The pictures, that is. The camera is HUGE though, and the lens is massive... but the picture turnouts are amazing.

My rings! I've lost the thin one, and gained my purity ring since then.
But I wear these every day.
I'm not going to say that these rings are a part of my identity, but they all have very special memories connected to them. And I fiddle with them when I'm bored. My purity ring is my favourite (it's not pictured above). A late 16th birthday present, the mounting of the ring is my deceased grandmother's. The pearl within, my grandmother bought for me. It's a black pearl (or a blue pearl). It's rare. We got it on their 50th anniversary trip to Hawaii.



San Francisco from Sausalito. 

Britex Fabrics! 

These last two photos were from my October trip to San Francisco with my best friend. Britex is 4 floors of fabrics, ribbons, buttons, and scraps. It's the most amazing place EVER. But you can't take pictures inside :O 

<><><> So until next time  <><><> 

Sunday, December 16, 2012


Make a quick, nervous movement of the face or body as an instinctive reaction to fear 

I've done a lot of flinching these last few days.
Flinching from Connecticut.
Flinching from fear.
Flinching from death.
Flinching from decisions.
I'm uncomfortable. Are you?

Currently, I'm sitting on a couch, in a big, warm house. I have a raging headache, and I probably shouldn't be staring at the computer screen. But I'm waiting. For something big. Something big that'll never come.
But despite the disappointment today was, and the agony this last week has been, I have a lot of things to be grateful for. I have safety, I have life. I can't ask for more.

Sunday, December 9, 2012

Advent: 2nd Sunday

How silently, how silently,
the wondrous gift is given;
so God imparts to human hearts
the blessings of his heaven.
No ear may hear his coming,
but in this world of sin,
where meek souls will receive him, still
the dear Christ enters in.

I don't know what you guys do for Christmas. Do you have a countdown calendar? Do you have an advent calendar where you get a little chocolate or treat every day? Or do you do anything at all?

I don't know where you're coming from when you're reading my posts. But I will say that I am a Christian, and I believe firmly in the virgin birth of Christ and his resurrection and conquering of death. I believe in his life, his death, his miracles. I believe that he is fully God, fully man, and that Christmas is not about people, or presents, or food, but it is about his arrival in this world, and how it led to him taking away our sins and giving us the generous gift of eternal life with him in heaven as long as we accept him.

If you don't like this, please don't hate. It's what I think, it's what I believe. It's my lifestyle, it's my centre. Stop reading my blog if it bothers you. But I'm not backing off on what I say because of anything you'll say. It won't change anything.

For me and my family, each day we read these fun little cardboard books that tell the story of Jesus and his birth. Every Sunday, we sing a hymn, and then read a little lesson out of this book my mom has. It's a really thought-provoking read.

The thing that's struck me most about this Christmas season is the humility in which Jesus entered our world.
I go to a school where people walk around with $300 watches, $200 boots, and walk around with iPhones, iPads, iEverythings. In one of the richest communities in my area, it's easy to feel either poor or left out of the iCommunity.

But Jesus... Jesus was born amidst chickens, and pigs, and cows. And a donkey. He was born in less than ideal conditions, but he brought more happiness and joy on that day to complete strangers-- shepherds nonetheless. There were so many elements that were less than ideal, that weren't belonging to todays iCommunity, but that time's outcasts.

That means a lot to me. Sometimes (a lot actually), I feel like the outcast in my group of friends. I'm sitting alone at lunch, during classes, free times. But Jesus gathered up the outcasts. But not just the outcasts: He brought up that annoying popular girl, the stupid one over there, the video game nerds, the class nut, the school weirdo... He doesn't discriminate. He loves.

Tuesday, December 4, 2012

There was hope

Her fingers glistened over the keys as she formed the music, moulding it like a potter would his proudest work. Her breath, which brought about the music, filled the room like so much perfume, bringing with it a lingering sense of nostalgia, pure beauty, and somehow, deep sadness.

He clutched to the keyhole, the cold metal kissing his ear as her music slowly drifted towards him. He drank in every drop of the musical liquid, which soothed his body and mind as he heard this beautiful, tangible tone.

Pressing his eye to the peephole, he saw her there, his heart filling with admiration and a slight pride at hearing his beautiful girl’s playing. As his sight lingered, he saw the sound congregate on her cheek in a single, forlorn teardrop. Slowly, the music turned from bright to macabre, and somehow the tune filled him, but left a gaping hollow. Colour drained from the world around her as suddenly, her instrument glowing a soft silver in the monochromatic air.

He watched as a crack snaked down her porcelain face. She seemed so delicate, and as that crack became darker and deeper he saw a side of her that he had never had the honour or privilege to witness.

The music fell and swayed, as unpredictable as the ocean waves. It raised a wind, above his head, and caressed his cheeks, a soft and gentle butterfly, little drops of rain, green blades of grass.  The breeze created by her melody breathed colour and life back into the room, bringing cheer to a once hopeless place.

The last few notes lingering on his ear, and little drops resting on his open lips, he stands as she puts away the music-maker, and he wanders off, not wanting to be caught, the music trailing him like pixie dust.

Sunday, December 2, 2012


Last night, I slept without my CPAP machine.
It was awful.
I want to go to sleep so I can breathe again.
I want to go to sleep so I can escape things.
I want to go to sleep to wake up rested.
I want to go to sleep. Period.