Ceaseless endings, and unflowered left beginnings, sometimes I pray for the north star to burn out...

Guess who's back? That's right! Me! The person you all love to read about. This will be a long post. And before I start I would like to say that the title is INAMORTA lyrics! Shit damn! They're so painfully emo. I left my journal at Trevor's cuz it also has my lyrics in it, so I'll just blab from my 'thoughts' book instead. Yes, I have two journals. Well, three if you count the blog. I write like there's no tomorrow. I always carry paper and a pen around. I will randomly stop in the middle of doing something and write. I think that's really important. Especially for writing songs. Don't force yourself to write lyrics, just write them down as they come to you. I go through writers blocks, and then all of a sudden, I'll be overflowing with thought. Now.. the farthest I can think back....

"Don't screw it up." You said it with such knowledge that was far beyond my grasp at the time. How did you know exactly what to say? I don't think you realize how intelligent those four words were. And how much they meant to me. Thank you.

It's eerie how past predictions have come to light recently. I will begin with telling a story that I haven't told very many people. In fact, it's something that few know about me. It all starts when I was very young. In fact, it starts when I was new to the world. Being the first child, my parents paid particular attention to how I acted. My mom was the first to really notice that something wasn't right with me. Telling me about my childhood, she commented on the fact that I had a hard time sleeping. I seemed to always want to be a part of what was going on. I drove my parents nuts by getting, on average, four hours of sleep per night. Sometimes they would put me in bed with them, but I would wake up every hour and reach out until I felt someone beside me. My mom went on to explain that I was very restless, and I seemed like I didn't belong. She said that I always gave the impression that I was out of place; that I just wasn't a happy child. Not to say that I wasn't cheerful, I just wasn't happy. My mom has always been kind of spiritual. She has an open mind about all forms of healing, etc. She decided to take me to a psychic-type who did 'readings'. The medium (the proper title) told of my past life, (a part of the story I choose to not go in depth about), and basically about how I was a very old soul who posessed a great amount of knowledge about the world. The most important thing he said, though, was that I wouldn't be completely comfortable in my life until I was 19 or 20. Growing up, I always had that fact in the back of my mind. I felt like I had ages to wait until I would find peace. Now that I'm here, I look back on what I was and I do notice a change. I was an angry kid, throughout most of my childhood. Something was always off; always missing. And around my 19th birthday, that changed. I can't explain what happened. It feels like I was wandering aimlessly before, and I have suddenly found the path I'm supposed to be on. Everything feels 'right'. I have become a completely different person. I look at things differently. I look at people differently. I react, speak, think, and live differently. Something inside me has calmed. I was reading a book on Buddhism the other day, out of curiosity, and I was surprised to find that most of the lessons I had already figured out on my own. I'm still learning a lot from that religion, just as I want to learn a lot from every religion. I don't think I want to choose just one, but I want to take influences from all over.

So I talked for hours to you because that's what we used to do, and we got back into the old routine of two girls sharing secrets and emotions. It felt refreshing. And to be completely vague....
"It sounds like you've found what you've been looking for, but you're not ready to accept that fact." You may be right. I'm not strong enough to accept that I may have found the answer when I wasn't even looking for it. I still have my hands in front of me as I walk with my eyes closed. I need to learn to trust my feet on the ground, the wind on my face, and that whisper of intuition that seems so prominent these days.

Life is like floating in a boat on the water. Some of us have paddles, and we are aiding in moving the vessel forward. Others are just along for the ride; to see the scenery. If we reach a waterfall and the boat crashes, then I will die with an oar in my hand, knowing that I tried. If the boat reaches a destination, I will feel the greatest knowing that I had a part in getting there. That's sort of how I feel about my goal in life right now.

Here's a story for those who like to see more of my impulsively lame side.... It was 12:30 in the morning when I finally had a chance to escape out the downstairs window. I had Sigur Ros; 4 hours until I started work; and my own two feet. I could go anywhere. I had the ocean on my mind. I wanted to hear the waves speaking in a language I couldn't comprehend. At first, I settled on Neck Point, but after some walking, I changed my destination to Piper's Lagoon. I started walking, and I came to the Tempo on Rutherford Road. That's when it hit me. A smell so powerful it stopped me dead in my tracks. Sweet like vanilla, and yet overwhelmingly spicy. Exotic. Intriguing. My mom said later she thought it might be jasmine. I looked around for the source of the smell; crossing the street to sniff trees. I came back to a fence beside the sidewalk, where the pungent flower was growing over from someone's lawn. A thick vine with clusters of thick white flowers. I picked a small bloom, and continued on my way, occasionally dipping my nose in the petals and inhaling deeply. I kept walking towards the beach when I realized where I really wanted to go. I changed course and walked all the way to your house. Upon arriving at your property, I walked to your car, and tucked the flower under your windshield wiper. I just couldn't resist imagining the look on your face in the morning. I couldn't help but want to make you wonder. Three hours round-trip and I was back in bed.

It was a night made for togetherness. We went to the beach, in a group, and lit a fire for smores. I soon had the urge to wander, so I drifted from the circle to characteristically climb a tree. I loved the feeling of a solid being beneath my body, while being suspended in the air. My body eased into the unyielding bark, and I gazed skywards to view the stars. The cold soon sidled up my spine, and I climbed down to retrieve a flashlight. I took the lamp to the edge of the water, to seek out a rock a few feet offshore. I stripped off my shoes and socks and dipped into the ocean to reach the sitting spot. I then layed down amidst barnacles and sea-smell to watch the sky and hear the treble hum of the waves. I didn't feel entirely peaceful, as if I wanted more out of what was in front of me. I searched the constellations for an answer. What was I looking for? The air felt full; like someone else was there. I remembered back to the days of Jiminy Cricket. When you wish upon a star. I was a child, and I looked to the stars to ask for guidance or a favour of some sort. Then I realized something as I lay in the dark, my friends voices behind me, merely backdropping the atmosphere. Those stars have been there since before I was born. Since before my parents were born; before my parent's parents were born. Those stars have watched the dinosaurs evolve. Those stars have witnessed the birth of life. They don't owe me a thing.

And to finish it off; some lyrics. Written on the Gabriola ferry. The first four words drifted into my head and the ink flowed from there.

It's in your honour, the way you hold your head when they press your face to the flame. You blink to cut it out. Your eyes turn a wiser shade of yellow and you tilt your hands to absorb whatever sunlight escapes through the clouds. So set in your ways, but then again, maybe not so... "Question yourself, it's the first step in finding it." "Finding what?" I couldn't give an answer. Maybe we're all here to burn out. To leave black scars and white tombstones and whispers of souls. This won't last long, nothing ever does, so you take time to test textures and taste the air in the depths of your lungs. So many nights spent sitting in silence, with thoughts so far down I forget them when I resurface. It's how I work. It's all for me. I don't think for anyone to hear. I press my face to the glass to feel the cold and see through. "You should try it this way." You say you're fine where you are.


"Your eyes slit the throat of all I know about myself."
-Thrice