jdhiebert.wordpress.com

The title of this blog is where I'm blogging now. i found wordpress.com has way nicer options for making your blog and i was able to import this blog into there. so i will no longer be blogging here. it is now http://jdhiebert.wordpress.com/

so go there! and update me in your blog list! :) :)

Tale as old as time...

So I went to see the last showing of "Beauty and the Beast" last night at Rainbow Stage with my friend, Pam. And I'm not gonna lie...it was one of the most exciting things I did this summer. Other than Egypt, Rome, and Paris, of course... :P



That story is my absolute favourite Disney movie and I can still remember seeing it in theatres as a young girl. The music still gives me chills. Lame? Possibly. But it is such a beautiful story. Of a girl who's considered a little odd. Different. She dreams of having adventures and getting out of her "small provincial town" to find excitement. She finds solace in her books. (She sounds an awful lot like me, eh???) And her down-to-earth sensitivity, inner strength, and self-sacrificial nature (this is where our differences appear... :P) all make the character of Belle one of the greatest Disney characters of all times (plus that yellow dress she wears during the dance...). She doesn't give in to bullying Gaston, even for a moment, she never waivers from her decisions. She is fully aware of what is right and wrong. And she gives up her own life to save that of her father's, without hesitation. And she is rewarded in the end. She gets a hot frickin prince.



It's simply a story of how much love can change people. (Ew, that might be the mushiest thing I've ever blogged...) Think of how the Beast transforms throughout the story. It's incredible, really. Ok, perhaps unrealistic and yes yes, it's just a fairy tale. But I think it's more than that. I think it's based on an awful lot of truth.


I've been asked if people are capable of changing. I think so. You just have to want it badly enough. You've got to be realistic about it. And you've got to be willing to put in the effort. That's where so many of us fail. We mess up, we give up, we claim it isn't possible to change. But that's all crap. We all know people who have changed. And not just in little ways. My brother, Tim. My cousin/the amazingest friend ever Katrina. A friend in Germany, Claudia. And many more. It's not all just a load of bull. It's our inability to commit. It's our tendency to give in. Possibly even a lack of self-confidence, or self-respect. And it never fails to amaze me how the people I have seen change have done so because of the work and support of people in their lives.


Think about it. Belle could have given up on the Beast. Seen him as a lost cause. But that's just not how she is. (Am I taking this metaphor too far... :P :P) Why is it so easy for us to give up on people? Why do we always look for the worst in someone? Why do we automatically assume others can't change?


Moral of the story: I want to be just like Belle when I grow up.


Ok, so this was actually just gonna be my review on the Rainbow Stage production and somehow I digressed onto some kind of philosophical rabbit trail that is probably making you all wonder "What did Julia spike her brownies with today? And where can I get some???".

So I don't have much to criticise. My only two points are these:



1) They made the beast too silly at some parts. He would throw these temper tantrums that made the crowd laugh. And in the movie he was simply gruff, and a little frightening. And I like that version of the Beast much better.

2) The musical had songs in it that weren't in the movie. And they were frankly kinda boring songs. The other music from the movie gives me shivers but the added songs were slightly annoying.



But other than that it was all fabulous. Seriously almost cried once or twice. I know, I know, I'm turning into a Danielle-Steele-reading-Jennifer-Lopez-movie-watching softy...Ew. And the actors were brilliant. The girl who played Belle sounded EXACTLY like her. She must have studied the movie for hours. Oh and the Gaston actor was perfect for that part. Wow. Talk about a first-class narcissistic moron.

Attitude Adjustment

So school is coming up.

I've been avoiding thinking about it.

Everytime someone says something along the lines of "So Julia, you ready for school?" I respond with a gruff "It's not here yet. That means we don't talk about it."

I'm a worrier.

Which is why I don't like to start worrying about things until they are immediate and unavoidable. It's just a waste of energy. So I prefer to not think about it.

But then I started thinking, maybe I'm approaching this with the wrong attitude. Maybe I should try being excited about it. School is always a good time. Sure, it's hard work and you're constantly hoping and praying that your prof likes your paper or that you studied enough for that exam or that the cute boy 4 rows over thinks your hair looks particularly shiny today(muwahahaha), but learning is never something you should dread. Or avoid. I feel like I've gotten lazy over the last year. I need to get busy again. Balance work and school and friends and and and... So even though driving to downtown Winnipeg every morning seems quite unpleasant (don't really wanna get up at 6am, 4 days a week), even though going to a new school is "scary" (how old am I? Seven????) and even though meeting 30 new classmates that you'll be spending practically every day with in class for the next two years is a little nerve-wracking, I should still be looking forward to it. Sure, it's scary as heck just thinking about being in a real classroom with a teacher judging your skills and some university supervisor evaluating your work, but why should I cower and be scared all the time? I'll make mistakes. I'll need them to tell me what worked and what didn't. No one gets it right off the bat. We all have to start somewhere. And I know that I have unrealistic expectations of myself. I like to get things right the first time. I don't like the thought of people using the words "room for improvement" to describe me or my abilities.... But I mean, I've finally reached the stage of my education where I'll actually be learning about what I want to do with the rest of my life. I've finally arrived. So maybe I should just flippin' enjoy it, hey?

So here's to appreciating the past and looking forward. And if that smile doesn't come all on its own, I can always learn to paste it on. Someone once told me that teachers need to be great actors. May as well start practising.

Mermaid Moments and Corn Strings

Written Friday, August 14th

So I went to Camp Arnes for Wednesday and Thursday with a veeeeeeeeery good friend of mine, Naomi, where her parents have a cabin right on the lake. It is now officially an annual tradition (right? after the 2nd year you can already label it a tradition, right?????). We'd already been planning it for practically a year. lol. I spent as much time as possible in the water. I don't need any toys (slides, diving boards, pool noodles...nothing...although dinghies are always a good time...why is the singular spelled 'dingy' and the plural spelled 'dinghies' with an 'h'???? so many questions...)...as I was saying tho, when I'm in the water I don't need any toys to keep me occupied, I don't need anyone to go in with me. I can just hang out in there all by myself. Brings back mermaid moments. I always used to pretend I was a mermaid when I was a kid. Especially that one summer I spent in Italy with my aunt and uncle...don't judge me...I was the only child there, so I had a lot of free time. And what better way to use said time than to pretend you are Ariel minus the clam shell bikini?? I would just dive for hours on end.

Made grilled corn on the cob for supper. After shucking them (is that what you call it? And is it an ear of corn? Or a head? I'm getting all confused...) there were corn strings EVERYWHERE for the rest of our stay. Officially dislike corn strings.

Wednesday evening we had decided to go skinny dipping once it got dark, because I was still a skinny-dipping-virgin and the cherry just had to be popped. (I have been on the brink of various skinny dipping ventures before, but we always ended up being far too sleepy to rouse up anything resembling the willpower to get naked and then cold...never mind at the same time.) Anywho, so we watched a movie after dinner and then headed outside. Only to find the sky alight with lightning. But I was so not ready to give up. or Put on clothes. or Deal with the disappointment and consequent comfort eating. :P So we figured the lightning was super far away anyways and we would brave it just for a little bit. So I got in there, chucked my towel onto the rocks, spent a grand ... oh, I'd say .... 20 seconds getting wet and then decided the lightning all along the horizon was just waaaaaaaaay too freaky. so we ran (as quickly as rocks slipperier than a lubed-up fish and a pitch black sky would allow) out, wrapped ourselves in our towels, and sat down on the stairs to watch the storm in the distance. Incredible lightning, unbelievable starry sky above us, and shooting stars! Lots of them. One of them was soooooooooo close to earth. I've never seen anything like it. And it was moving along the sky so slowly, with a super long tail trailing along behind it. Unbelievable.

But at least I can officially say I've been skinny dipping.

And then came Thursday morning. It was kinda chilly and cloudy outside but the waves were pretty sweet so I was determined to go for a swim. Which I did. And the waves kinda mauled me. I was laughing so hard tho that I had no control as to what the waves were doing to me, as you can see in the pic. Thanks A LOT Naomi. Good times tho.

Then, after about an hour and a half, we packed up all our crap to head back to the cabin. And the second we started walking away the sun came out. And beat down for the rest of the day. Typical. Anyways, after spending some time in Gimli for the afternoon we went back outside and I took one final swim. Divine.

I. Love. Lakes.

How DO their brains work???

So I have a new theory: when guys see a girl in a dress, they automatically act more gentlemanly than usual. Now, is it the dress or the legs? Well, doors don't get opened for me when I'm wearing shorts, so it must be the dress. Does it make us look more fragile? The whole damsel in distress scenario??

Case in point (that's right, James, case IN point), I walked into work today looking like this.

Door got held open for me on 4 separate occasions today.

And yes, that is FAR above average for a normal workday. :P

Shakespearian babies

I might be a little in love with Donald Miller (the guy who wrote that book I've been reading, Searching for God knows what). He just spent the entire last 18 pages of his book explaining how Shakespeare's Romeo and Juliet is actually a retelling of the biblical love story - you know, the whole God's love for mankind dealio (yes, that's right, I said wrote dealio). And seeing as how Shakespeare would be the proverbial love of my life (suck on THAT Gwyneth Paltrow) if it weren't for ... you know ... 6 centuries, give or take a few years, separating us and we would have had many brilliant and poetic Shakespearian babies together (ok, is this getting a little weird??), Donald Miller has officially got me hooked. I think I would read just about anything he wrote after that little compare and contrast essay conclusion to one of the best books I've read in a long time (and I don't tend to read Christian literature because I often find it simplistic, off-base, unrealistic, sometimes phony, and just plain ole poorly written). Seriously, tho. With this book I felt like I was at a university lecture. All the symbolism, literary devices, Petrarchan analyses, and imagery comparisons (Rosaline = lunar, Juliet = sun; moon pale in comparison to sun...AAAAAAAAH how I miss English lit classes)...But honest. Shining a Christian light on Shakespeare's work...how have I never thought of this before???


I'm getting way too carried away here. This was going to be a two-line blog post.

So much for that, eh?

We might have to have a party on the day I actually achieve a word limit goal...

Searching for God knows what Pt. 2

And here is the second part of what I found really helpful in that book by Donald Miller I talked about last time...

"...It is true God used a great deal of poetry in the Bible. David was a poet and his son Solomon created a musical called Song of Songs, which is about romance and sex, and even Paul had memorized the works of Greek poets so he could speak them from memory when giving a talk. If you quote a poem in a sermon today, some people think you are being mushy, but if you quoted one back in the day, people would have felt you were getting to the core of an idea, to the real, whole truth of it. ... I started wondering if the message God was communicating to mankind, this gospel of Jesus, was a message communicated to the heart as much as to the head; that is, the methodology was as important as the message itself, that the ideas could not be presented accurately outside the emotion within which the truths were embedded.

And if you think about these things, it only makes sense that if God was communicating a relational message to humanity He would use the multilayered methodology of truth and art, because nobody engages another human being through lists and formulas. Our interaction with one another is so much more about that hidden language. I started wondering if our methodology, that of charts and formulas and lists, is not hindering the message Jesus intended. If our modern methodology is superior to the methodology of historical narrative mixed with music, drama, poetry, and prose, then why didn't God choose lists instead of art?

I began to wonder if the ancient Hebrews would have understood this intrinsically, if they would have sat around watching plays and readings poems knowing this is where real truth lies, and if our age, affected by the Renaissance and later by the Industrial Revolution, by Darwin and the worship of science, hasn't lost a certain understanding of truth that was more whole. If you have a girlfriend and you list some specifics about her on a piece of paper--her eye color, her hair color, how tall she is--and then give her this list over a candlelight dinner, I doubt it will make her swoon. But if you quote these ideas to her in a poem:

She walks in beauty like the night
Of cloudless climes and starry skies
And all that's best of dark and bright
Meet in her aspect and her eyes ...

...she is more likely to understand the meaning, the value inferred by your taking notice of her features. The same ideas, expressed in poetry, contain a completely different meaning. She would understand you were captivated by a certain mystery in her aspect, in her eyes and her stride and the features perfectly met upon her face. And while our earlier conceived list of features might have been accurate, it certainly wouldn't have been meaningful.

It makes you wonder if guys like John the Evangelist and Paul and Moses wouldn't look at our systematic theology charts, our lists and mathematical formulas, and scratch their heads to say, Well, it's technically true; it just isn't meaningful.

...

The difference between meaning and truth is quite simple, really. It is something we all understand and operate within daily. Several years ago, for instance, I chewed tobacco: Long-cut Wintergreen Skoal. I know, I know, it was terrible for me. It causes cancer of the mouth and is bad for your heart and your breath, and girls are never going to want to kiss you if you chew that stuff. I knew all that for years and yet I couldn't kick the habit, mainly because I didn't want to. The tobacco gave me a little buzz and helped me relax. But I tried to stop. I went to Web sites and looked up statistics about the health risks of chewing tobacco. I printed the statistics and placed them on my desk where I could read them when I was tempted. But it didn't help. I still bought a can of the stuff every other time I gassed up my car. This went on for at least a year, until...

I was listening to the radio one afternoon, editing a chapter in a previous book, when a voice came on, very distorted and troubled. The man sounded as though part of his face were missing, low and muffled and slobbery. Between songs, the radio station had inserted a commercial, a public service message about the danger of using chewing tobacco. The man in the commercial said half his jaw had been removed, that he had no lower lip, and the reason his face was deformed was because for years he had used smokeless tobacco. He didn't list any facts, he didn't speak of any harmful ingredients, he didn't say he was going to die of cancer. And yet the image of a man without a chin speaking into the microphone was enough to convince me to stop. I never used the stuff again. I just didn't want to.

...I thought about my experience with chewing tobacco in connection with understanding the difference between meaning and truth. I wondered if when we take Christian theology out of the context of its narrative, when we ignore the poetry in which it is presented, when we turn it into formulas to help us achieve the American dream, we lost its meaning entirely, and the ideas become fodder for the head but have no impact on the way we live our lives or think about God. This is, perhaps, which people are so hostile toward religion."

Searching for God Knows What Pt. 1

I'm sorry if any of you are finding my "spiritual crisis" a little annoying, as it seems to be taking over my blog, but as I've said many times before, I have to write ME. I have to write what is on the forefront of my mind, in order for any of this to be any good. So you'll just have to bear with me.


I think I might have been reading my Bible "wrong" all these years. I've always wondered: Why did it never speak to me the way it is supposed to? Why did it never become personal for me? Why did I never experience that thirst that all good Christians are supposed to experience? Well, the problem might have been the fact that I am majorly over-analytical and want to discover the logic of everything, EVERYWHERE. And want to feel that light bulb go on every time I open my Bible. Even if I only read a few verses. Or a kind of megaphone Jeremy Irons voice booming down at me from heaven. That would work too. But I had totally forgotten to read it as a book, out of enjoyment. With stories, passion, meaning, and beauty - to find something relational. A love story. And heck, I don't even like mushy stuff. But that's not the kind of love story I'm talking about. Anyways, all this is really quite terrible for someone who graduated with a degree in English LITERATURE. I should be an expert in this stuff. Or perhaps my education has caused me to forget how to read something without looking for symbolism and literary devices around every corner. Anyways, I'm reading this book by Donald Miller (thank you Jordan) called Searching for God Knows What and I'm finding it really helpful, especially in this area. Here's what flicked the light switch for my proverbial mental light bulb. And since I found it so helpful, I thought a few of you might, as well. :)


"While having dinner with a friend recently, she commented that the primary concern for Christians today is to translate the precepts of Scripture for a postmodern audience. And I don't know what postmodern means, but I kindly disagreed with her and wondered out loud if we didn't need to stop translating the Bible for a modern audience, an audience endeared to the simplification of reality, an audience that likes to memorize lists in an attempt to understand God. Perhaps if we stop reducing the text to formulas for personal growth, we can read it as stories of imperfect humans having relations with a perfect God and come to understand the obvious message He is communicating to mankind.

I was reading The Cloister Walk by Kathleen Norris the other day and she was talking about Benedictine monks and how they would sit up late at night to study the Bible by candlelight. I wondered what it would have been like to have studied the Bible and not be tainted by lists and charts and formulas that cause you to look for ideas and infer notions that may or may not be in the text, all the while ignoring the poetry, the blood and pain of the narrative, and the depth of emotion with which God communicates His truth. I think there would be something quite beautiful about reading the Bible this way, to be honest--late at night, feeling through the words, sorting through the grit and beauty. It wouldn't bother me at all to read the Bible without the charts and lists because a person could read the Bible, not to become smart, but rather to feel that they are not alone, that somebody understands them and loves them enough to speak to them--on purpose--in a way that makes a person feel human.


Here's what Kathleen Norris said about those monks:

Although their access to scholarly tools was primitive compared to what is available in our day, their method of biblical interpretation was in some ways more sophisticated and certainly more psychologically astute, in that they were better able to fathom the complex, integrative, and transformative qualities of revelation. Their approach was far less narcissistic than our own tends to be, in that their goal when reading scripture was to see Christ in every verse, and not a mirror image of themselves."

~ Donald Miller, Searching for God knows what

Just something to think about. How do you read your Bible??

Justin Bieber

Ok, so I posted a list yesterday. A new haters list. But today I saw something that I just have to add. You remember my last haters list where one of my pet peeves was white male singers using "shorty" in their lyrics? Well, this belongs in a subcategory. Called JUSTIN BIEBER.

Oh my goodness. Have you heard of this kid??? He's, like, 14. Caucasian (as you can see in the above pic). And a rapper. Well, kind of like Usher...this rapper/R&B singer mix.

Ok, kid, what is WITH that hair???

The funny thing is he's actually "friends" with Usher. Usher is actually in his music video.

And he sings this song called ... hang on, let me google it ... ok, called "One Time". And he sings about this chick he's in love with (some over-developed too-much-make-up-wearing 13-year old babe) and he actually sings stuff like "You're my only one", "You're my one love" and "I'll give you what you need". I'm sorry, but what the heck does a kid who hit puberty, like, yesterday know about this stuff? But the kicker is the part where he says "Whatever you want shawty I'll give it to you". I almost barfed my recently ingested nutella toast and peach yogurt all over Zoe's couch.

And you know how kids can text stuff to muchmusic and it appears on the side of the screen? All these chicks were texting "I love Justin Bieber" and crap like that. And then a good song by The Junction came on and all these same stupid kids started texting stuff like "this song sucks".



What is wrong with the world today? And why do I seem to be one of the only ones who sees it????????????????????????????????? Or do you see it too???

Things I Hate

I think it's time for a new list. The title of today's post gives you the topic. Why'm I such a hater today? Who knows. I'm actually in a really good mood and have fun plans for tonight. That's right! Julia has a Friday evening OFF! But anyways, this is the topic that came to mind. Possibly because I had to get up at 5am for work...

1) the words jiggle, chuckle, and fart. seriously. just don't use those words in my presence. especially the latter. in fact don't do ANYTHING inlcuding that last word in my presence.

2) people who don't listen to me when I tell them things on the phone and then accuse ME of having given them the wrong information. Um, no, you are just incapable of understanding ... English. (as you might have already guessed, I'm talking about work-related calls...)

3) l'il wayne...especially his song "let it rock"

4) chipped nailpolish

5) Matthew McConaughey

6)

7) body break commercials

8) breakfast

9) too-short pants (also known as floodpants). seriously. worst fashion crime, as far as I'm concerned. it's right up there with gold spandex and stonewash jeans.

10) dr. pepper. especially cherry flavoured dr. pepper. really anything cherry flavoured. or dr. pepper flavoured.

11) cooked vegetables. any. no joke.

the rebel

Thank you to everyone for the encouraging talk backs, emails, and long conversations over dinner/coffee. Some of you have expressed hesitation about giving me advice or recommending books and stuff because you don't want to sound like know-it-alls, or something, but please don't! This isn't one of those cases where I'm just looking to vent. Advice will be accepted ...and tested. :)

One thing I think I'm beginning to realize is that I've been expecting something to just happen on its own. I'm waiting for a lightning bolt, a shipwreck, some kind of jolt to snap me out of the ordinary. But I'm beginning to think that's not gonna happen. I'm beginning to think that I just need to start. Somewhere. Anywhere. I need to make an effort or the stagnancy will simply spread its stale presence. If we're the ones to walk away and let things slip, we might have to be the ones to take the first steps back. And while I've known this for a long time, I've been rebelling against it.

See, I hate it when people try to make me do something. Or persuade me. Or convince me. Even when I've told them to LAY OFF. It makes me run in the opposite direction. A few examples: if someone suggests going waterskiing or wakeboarding or whatever, they're all "it's the best thing ever. you HAVE to try it. don't be so scared." that just pisses me off. it makes me want to never even touch a wakeboard. (and for the record, i've waterskiied and had a very ... uncomfortable experience. including a word that rhymes with shmenima.) it just makes me not want to try it, SIMPLY FOR THE REASON THAT YOU ARE TRYING TO MAKE ME. I know, it's childish. It's lame. but also, why don't people simply believe me when i say i'm NOT INTERESTED IN WATER SPORTS? i actually simply couldn't care less. and the more you try to push it on me the more set i become in my choice to not do it. i'll go bungee jumping. seriously. one of my dreams. so OBVIOUSLY i'm not a scared person. i would just like to be able to choose FOR MYSELF what i want to do or not do.
Or another example. When my mother says things like "you know, you could have cleaned out the dishwasher when you got home from work." meaning that it's still not unloaded and she would like me to do it now. but now i won't. simply because she says it like that. you know, if she would just ASK me "julia, could you please unload the dishwasher" i'd be right on it. But the whole guilt-trip insinuating thing just rubs me the wrong way. Again, i know that's stupid and i should get over it. get over myself. but it's so hard. anyways, when i tell my mom she should just ASK me to, she always responds with "well, i don't think i SHOULD have to ask you anymore. you're 22 years old." now, she may be completely right, but how is the guilt trip any better than simply asking me? ok, this may seem very silly. but these are just two trivial examples. (well, trivial to me; maybe not my mom. but for the record, i unloaded the dishwasher yesterday after i got home from work. it was not dad. it was me. CREDIT. I WANT THE CREDIT.) but as trivial as these things may seem, this trait (unfortunately) affects ever single area of my life. Including my beliefs and faith. so the more people tell me they have the answer or that i just need to get off my butt and do something about my confusion and doubt, the more i want to just sit on my a** and ... ya. But really it's only hurting me. My stubbornness and inability to concede when I'm down ... or just plain old wrong ... is one of my ultimate flaws.

I don't think I've ever said that out loud before. Or even actually thought it to myself before.

Scary.

So now I'm going to go curl my hair. Do my make up. And then go look for my Bible; yes, i've been home for over a month and haven't even looked for my Bible since I unpacked. You wanna know what's really sad tho? When I was packing in Germany I actually seriously thought to myself: "now, do you pack your Bible, which you have opened a total of....twice...the whole year .... or maybe save a few more tanktops that aren't making the cut and coming back home to Canada with you?" isn't that horrible? i am an awful person. you are all going to stop reading my blog now that i'm actually exposing all my issues.

but there it is.

p.s. my bible won over the tanktops.

Quote of the Week...

I realize it's only Thursday, but I really don't think anything else I could possibly hear this week will top this one...

"Being married is like... living with your best friend. And having sleepovers every night."

~Melodie McMahon

l

Apparently she's in on the convince-Julia-marriage-is-not-evil project...

My raging disillusionment...Nr. 2

PLEASE TAKE THE TIME TO READ THE WHOLE THING. I'D LIKE TO HEAR YOUR THOUGHTS. -jh

_________________

No, THIS particular raging disillusionment is not about marriage. Let out that breath of air and relax. Well, that's until you read what this post IS actually about. :P

So blogging has been a lot more difficult for me since I returned to Canada. I think it's because I don't feel I have anything to "report" anymore. I mean, I'm home. So I'm either at work or hanging out with a friend or ... watching One Tree Hill. LOL. No joke.

So what could I have to say now that's worthwhile? What could I possibly talk about that would actually interest anyone? There are no more crazy German tales or adventures. Just my old life. And don't get me wrong...I LOVE my old life. I love my ruts and routines. And I love and appreciate this incredible home that I have (country, province, and town) more than ever before. But I have also been wrestling with the feeling that perhaps I should just delete my blog. When 4 or 5 days go by and I can't think of ONE thing that would be interesting enough to put out there on this grand world wide web, I start to panic and wonder whether I might end up losing what has become one of my favourite pastimes over the past 12 months. I love to write. It keeps me sane. And I don't think I suck at it. But ... what if the material is gone?

So I was sitting here today, wondering what I should write about. See, my worst posts are the ones I write when I'm trying to think of something fun(ny) to write about, just to keep ya'll entertained. Because those aren't coming from a real place inside of me. They sound forced ... because they are. And my best posts are the ones where I sit down, place my fingers on the keyboard, and suddenly realize 500 words later that my post is done and I didn't even have to think about it. I realized this I'd say...maybe half a year ago. So I've since then been trying to only write when I get that urge. The urge to describe, portray, create, even entertain. And to erase the anxiety that creeps in when I'm afraid I might forget a certain feeling, sound, smell, place, person, event. I have SUCH a fear of that.

And while I was sitting here today, wondering what I should write about, I thought to myself: "how have you been feeling lately? why can't you be honest, Julia? what's with the frigging writer's block?" And I realized that I've been wrestling lately...well, more like finally admitted...I already knew I was wrestling. As opposed to a light fun-filled blog post with a gazillion silly metaphors, painfully-thought-through alliterations, colourful descriptions, off-the-cuff judgments, and an infinite amount of "frigging"s and "frickin'"s to give it my own little flair :P, this one is a bit more difficult to put out there.

I once again find myself disillusioned.

That is the sentence I haven't been wanting to write for months. But haven't.

I find myself disillusioned about my own faith. See, I was hoping that while I was in Germany this year I would figure some things out. I would spend more time reading my Bible, trying to understand exactly what it is I believe and why. Without the usual distractions of university, work, friends, more friends, and life. I don't want to be one of those Christians who believes because that's how she was raised. I refuse to be. And while most people find it difficult TO believe, I have to admit that I have the opposite problem. I would find it difficult NOT to believe. I mean, I've grown up with this all my life. I only know a world with a God. With a Jesus. So I would be more afraid to face a world where this doesn't exist, just cuz I can't imagine it. And I don't want to. But the worst Christians in the world are the ones who only believe because that's how they've been raised. The ones who haven't tested it. Or made it their own. I recognize this. But that only leaves me with a larger dilemma. What do I do about it? How do I fix this? Can this even be tested?

I really really really don't like fake Christians. I call them "bubble Christians". They live in their little impervious bubbles ... hardly made of soap and water....more like bricks and concrete...and they put a happy face on everything. They listen to worship music 24/7. They judge everyone around them with a simple snide remark or glance, holding a Bible in one hand and a gavel in the other. They claim to believe in something they've never lived a day in their life. And they turn me off. So if they're turning ME off...a good Christian girl...then what must they be doing to those out there who might finally be looking to Christianity for the answers?

The more fake Christians I meet, the more I run in the opposite direction. The more I examine myself...my flaws...and then the more I try to expose my flaws and draw them out, even show them off...to make sure that I don't turn out like THEM (the "flawless" ones). It's the religious equivalent of pinching yourself really hard to make sure you're awake. But in case you haven't extrapolated this further than "it's a GOOD thing to not wanna be a phony, Julia" let me just tell you that this isn't exactly a positive trait...just like pinching yourself on a regular basis probably wouldn't be much fun either. It makes me say things...do things...feel things...that I probably shouldn't be doing or saying...or even feeling, all in an attempt to not end up on the opposite end of the spectrum. But I don't want to return to middle ground. I find myself so tired of middle ground. I'm sick of it. Bored of it. I crave the extremes. Any extreme? No, an extreme. But is it good for me?

A high-school friend of mine, Kyla, blogs too (you can find her in my blogs list on the side). And I find myself checking her blog ALL the time. It seems that while she and I may not have spoken face-to-face for...oh, I'd say...2 years or maybe more...she seems to be having similar thoughts. Similar struggles. I can totally identify with so much of what she's been saying. And it is actually her honesty...her courage to put her personal issues about her own faith out there for all to see that has given me the strength to do it myself.

Is there safety in numbers?

Or are there answers in numbers?

Another reason I decided to write about this ... even though I REALLY...and I mean REALLY ... didn't want to, is that Pastor Sieg actually mentioned the whole "being a Christian because you were raised that way" issue in church this last Sunday. I was immediately intrigued because this has been one of my main concerns for a few years. I was waiting for him to placate my fears and spoon-feed me a pat little answer. But instead he said this (among other things): "God doesn't have any grandchildren." I was paralyzed for a moment and these words are still ringing in my ears. And I need to figure this stuff out.

So I come to my final points: Why are Christians so afraid to admit they are struggling? Why has it taken me 22 years to admit it? Is it because I feel that after 2 decades of believing in something that actually LITERALLY means life and death I feel I should have at least a few things figured out? Isn't that what others would expect of me?

I may not have actually said that much in this blog. Perhaps nothing significant. But it was real. It was ME. And you wanna know how I know? Because a few minutes ago I sat down, I placed my fingers on this keyboard, and 1,341 words later, here I am.

Top Four

So most of you know already that I am working at my old job: the pool where I worked for two years before I left for Germany... Shall remain nameless. And if you've spent any time with me in the past few years you will have heard me tell ... let's call them 'stories' ... about some of the more ... unique experiences. Well, nothing has changed since I got back.


Here is my list of Top Four Moments from this past Saturday (by the way, basically any summer pool stories are about a certain cultural group that shall also remain nameless. They pretty much take over the pool every weekend.)


#4. I'm sitting outside, watching the splash park ... which coincidentally had no children actually splashing in it due to gaylord wind, making my day quite uneventful ... so I'm half-dozing (not really, tho) when all of a sudden I hear shrill ... and very loud ... screaming: "SPIDER SPIDER SPIDER". And a young teenage boy of formerly mentioned 'cultural group' is dancing in circles around the picnic table, flailing various limbs and breaking all sound barriers. Like the glass shattering kind of screams. Big kid. Almost macho looking. Until that moment, anyways. Maybe it doesn't sound that funny to you, but to someone who is actually scared of spiders (me) and would still never react like that, even though I'm a girl and retain all yelling and flailing rights when under insect/reptile duress, it was a very funny moment.



#3. An elderly gentleman and his (assumed) grandson were walking past me in the hallway when I stopped them to remind them that they cannot wear their shoes in the indoor facility. As they were removing said footwear the old man looks at me ... with a straight face ... and says "You do realize this is going to make my feet wet..." To which I merely responded, as calmly and coolly as possible, "You do realize ... you're at a swimming pool...???" For real I don't get some people...



#2. I was sitting at the top of the slide stairs, where it is my job to make sure people wait an appropriate amount of time to let the previous person reach the bottom. Who knew my job would also be to inform a middle-aged lady (again, of previously mentioned cultural group) that no, she, in fact, MAY NOT slide with her sandals on...

...... WHO ASKS THAT????

#1. But my favourite part of the day was when I was once again sitting outside, guarding the splash park, when suddenly a family (blah blah blah...cultural group...) asks me whether they can bring "that table over". I look in direction of pointing. See table. Past the fence of the aquatic centre. IT'S ONE OF THE PARK'S FREAKING PICNIC BENCHES. NO OF COURSE YOU CANNOT BRING IT IN HERE. But I'll admit, I was slightly tempted to say yes, just because I wanted to watch them lug that sucker to the front doors, through our lobby, through the change rooms, down the hallway, past the outdoor pool, and onto the splash park lawn out back. Um...BRILLIANT ONE FOLKS.

One Tree Hill ... on a Two-Way Street...

So I’m addicted to One Tree Hill.

Thanks A LOT ANDEE! My sister in law has all the seasons and I’m housesitting for them right now. So ALL my spare time…and I do mean ALL … is taken up by this prime time soap. Honest to goodness tho, I’m not even half-way through season 2 and I’m already exhausted just WATCHING the lives of these five 17-year olds unfold. Honest to goodness, do any real teenagers have that much drama in their lives? And if so, how the heck do they deal with crap like that? Cheating boyfriends, backstabbing best friends, pregnancies (real and fake), drugs, alcohol, divorcing parents, cheating parents, deceptive parents, lying about everyone and everything, confusion, mayhem, disaster! It’s ridiculous! If these are actual teenage problems nowadays, its no wonder kids are turning out the way they are. Children trying to handle adult issues with a lack of wisdom that is only to be expected at that age.

I’ve been noticing it steadily over the last 5 or 6 years. These kids that are trying to be grown ups. They wear the same clothes as me … a 22 year old. They all have their little cell phones and myspace pages and who knows what else. They watch movies with scenes and listen to music with lyrics showing/describing physical … ahem ... body parts … that they don’t even possess yet...or at least aren't developed … and physical … uh ... actions …. that they’re not even actually capable of due to lack of ... you know ... appropriate hormones etc. They date and break up, they cry and make up…they rant of love and hate as if they know what they’re talking about. HECK I’M JUST STARTING TO FIGURE SOME OF THOSE VERBS OUT. So someone tell me: What is the freaking rush? Why do I hear 5 year olds making judgey comments like “Mom, why's that lady fat”? Could it be because they hear their mothers discussing weight issues over coffee and a package of Lean Cuisine with only an astonishing 8 grams of fat? Why do kids at school have absolutely no respect for their teachers? Is it because their parents are always trying to be their best friends as opposed to their authority figures, and so the kids just don’t know what they’re supposed to do with someone trying to impose rules and boundaries? Why do 7 year olds have self-esteem issues and why are 12 year olds throwing up in the toilets at school? Is it because they watch their mothers measure out one cup of rice for dinner every night in that desperate attempt to wedge their way back into the pre-pregnancy jeans? Why do kids seem to have a complete lack of work ethic? Is it because everything gets handed to them on a silver platter and daddy’s cash is lining their pockets? Why do kids today seem to just skip that innocent stage…the age of snowmen and forts and jump rope? Did someone just … forget to tell them about it and drop them off at the mall instead? What is with this obssession with growing up? Maybe it’s not simply the old adage “Kids today” followed by a frustrated sigh and roll of the eyes. Maybe it’s what we’re doing to them. Or perhaps I should say what we're NOT doing to them. What is everyone so afraid of?

...and who woulda thought I could get so philosophical from watching a modern day 90210???

Molly Cherie Burzuik

Welcome to our psychotic family...

Looks like your hair is already trying to fit right in!!! :P :P

I'm an auntie x 5! WOOOOOO. And let's be serious folks...how cute is she???

P.S. Congrats Mike and Miriam, for getting your little girl. Finally an excuse to buy cute frilly (possibly furry) pink stuff... :) :)

Move? Why? Where?

So I was randomly reading something on msn.ca the other day and I came across this. It basically said everything I've felt in the last year. But expressed much better than I ever could. You know, I never really understood what an incredible country I was born and raised in until I left. Don't get me wrong. Germany rocked. And I do love the country very much. But basically everything pales in comparison to Canada. At least to me. TRUST ME. YOU PROBABLY DON'T REALIZE OFTEN ENOUGH HOW AMAZING YOU HAVE IT HERE. I know I forget on a regular basis. So here's a little something to remind you... :)

A Love Letter to Canada
By Robin Esrock

"My first draft for this love letter began: “Shall I compare thee to a hot summer day? Fireworks erupt and the BBQ steams a sweet sticky scent into the air, both driving my neighbour’s dogs insane.” It went on to praise the 10 provinces and 3 territories, the virtues and industriousness of our people (IMAX, Insulin, Basketball), the extraordinary natural beauty, coast to coast. I had a few lines about our money, our artists, our national temperament, our national sport (watching our teams crash out of the Stanley Cup). Said the letter: “We mine over 60 minerals inside the world's 9th largest economy, but have a healthy respect for nature and enjoy the outdoors. Unless it's freezing the carrot off a snowman, in which case, we are known to enjoy underground heated shopping malls.”But I knew something was missing, and if you’ll indulge me a few moments more, I’d like to share some vignettes.

A 23 year-old Brazilian girl is having a BBQ. She works two jobs, one as a nanny for a family in the suburbs, and they are throwing a celebration because she has just received her permanent residency status. From a poor background, offering little opportunity for education or much else, she has worked her way into Canada at great personal sacrifice, and promises to accomplish much. There is a speech, and she tears up, and in her face I see a tough past and promising future. This is Canada.

Auschwitz, Poland, 1942. Condemned prisoners arrive by cattle car carrying the few belongings they haven’t sold for their survival. Immediately, their bags and battered suitcases are confiscated. Family heirlooms, wedding rings, and anything of value stripped away, replaced with a striped uniform and numbered tattoo. The goods are transported to a large warehouse on site, which fills up so quickly another is needed. To the prisoners, these warehouses represent a wealth of material treasure, cherished memories, and most importantly, hope. They give the warehouses a nickname. They call them Canada.

In May 2004, I was sworn in as a Canadian citizen. The day before, a car had run me down at a Vancouver intersection, breaking my knee and setting me on the path to travel journalism. I popped a small pill of morphine before I settled in the front row of the courthouse, my leg heavily strapped up. Missing the ceremony would delay the process, and after five years I had waited enough. My older brother immigrated to Vancouver without once having stepped foot in Canada. I followed him 18 months later in the same manner. What made me leave everything I know behind on the other side of the world (South Africa is literally the opposite side of the globe) to start fresh? Very simply, the answer is Canada.

For all the negative news you might read in the newspapers, for all the economic challenges we face, the rising crime, reports of corruption, environmental disaster, it pays to put things in perspective. I moved here, along with so many others, because Canada offers a better life. By my reasoning and research, the best life I could hope to find. I didn’t need UN reports and various research indexes to tell me that the quality of life in Canada is amongst the best in the world. It would take me a year before I could find a good job. Longer still to reestablish the kind of friendships I had lost. Through it all, I felt safe, I felt welcomed, and I felt that anything is possible because the opportunity exists. Ten years later I have a successful career, a TV show no less that pays me to travel the world; my dream job. This is Canada.

My first love letter lightheartedly identified modern icons of Canada, from yoga-stretching hippies on the West Coast to foot-thumping lobster chompers in the Maritimes. We have wolves and cougars and bears and moose, but our national animal is the beaver: industrious, capable, a bucktooth smile for teamwork. We embrace the outdoors, the big prairie sky, the Albertan Rockies, the Quebecois’ providing tenacious unity in diversity. Sports, science, comedians, writers – for a relatively small nation, we have had a relatively large impact on the world, even if sometimes we feel they don’t exactly notice.

My second love letter is a lot more personal. I love that I can drive on a highway for days, meeting friendly people along the way, chewing on eye candy throughout. I love that it’s safe, that politicians are called to task, that our much criticized medical system helps me every time I’m sick. I love conversations with immigrant taxi drivers and nurses and dock workers and computer scientists who work hard and have made great sacrifices to be here. I love drinking tap water. I love the efficiency of our transport system, the police, the phones, the Internet. I love that our Canadian teams are always the underdog. I love our beer and wine and fresh seafood and healthy beef. You can criticize everything I love, and sure there’s room for improvement, but compared to just about any other country on the planet, things could not get any better. And that, in the end, is Canada. Happy Canada Day. "

l

l

l

P.S. I realize I published this on the US Independence Day, but whatevs. I'll celebrate 2 Canada Days if I have to. :) :)

Erin Katrina Visram

I love this girl.



In case you didn't read the title to this post, you'll need to do that in order to understand the previous sentence.


It's funny. Cuz she's been my cousin for almost 20 years. We've always gotten along. We just never realized ...

that we were basically meant for one another!

No joke.

You know how people always say that about their significant other? "We were made for one another?" Well, Katrina was made for me. I mean, not in THAT way. Pervs.

Seriously. So a week and a half ago we got back from four weeks of mindblowing travelling in Germany, Egypt, Italy, and France. And I cannot believe how awesome it was. We got to know each other SO WELL, obviously, after 4 weeks of being together 24/7. But we just meshed on so many levels. It got to the point where we would say the exact same thing at the exact same time with the same inflection. We even laughed the same, just ask Peter. We could finish one anothers' sentences and you don't even know how many times one of us would say an idea out loud and the other would respond with "I was JUST thinking that". Honestly, it was creepy. Just ask Zoe. It seriously happened multiple times on a daily basis. But we have enough differences that we don't get annoyed by one another. And it was incredible how well we travelled together! Where one dropped the ball or forgot to do something, the other picked up the slack. Each and every time. If either of us needed to be left alone for a little bit, the other picked up on it and just stayed out of the way for a few minutes til "it" had passed and things were good to go again. No need to do any of that emotional verbal diarrhea thing. And I don't think we ever even once got mad at one another. We even like to party the same.


There is this strange connection. This strange bond. And it grew surprisingly strong in that month. There is a trust between us that I can categorically say I haven't had with very many people before. It could have to do with the fact that we are related and blood is thicker than water, as they say. But it's more than that. Impossible to explain. And so rare.

So this is a tribute to Trin, as I affectionately refer to her. :P I love this girl more than life itself.

If I had to choose three words to describe Trin they would be:


- generous: seriously, I don't know very many people who are so unselfish. She gives and gives without expecting things in return. Just last night I went over for a bonfire and she had this beautiful Hallmark picture frame with this AWESOME pic of the two of us on our trip in it. The frame says "Unforgettable". How true. She also bakes DELICIOUS desserts for the Niverville drop-in every week. And does so many other countless things that are so far above and beyond what people ask of her. She is basically just friggin awesome.


- hard-working: as I already mentioned Katrina picked up any slack on this trip. She was so organized yet spontaneous at the same time. If something needed to get done, Katrina was on it. If we were guests somewhere she was the first to get up and help in the kitchen. If anything needs to be taken care of...ever...she will be the one volunteering first, putting in the most energy, and pulling it through to the end. Auntie Erna, you should be proud. :)


- trustworthy/loyal: I got to our family gathering the other day about an hour late (cuz I had to work) and Katrina had WAITED for me before she ate. So while everyone else was chowing down on hamburgers and my grandma's famous potato salad, Katrina waited until I arrived to make her plate. No one has ever done that for me before...and I don't think I know anyone else who would do that for me. And while it may seem a silly thing to mention, it meant a lot to me. It definitely shows me loyalty, in a sense. And I have many other examples of her loyalty, but those are between her and me. :) In terms of trustworthiness, if you tell Katrina something in confidence, that's where it will stay. Because she would expect no less of those she trusts. This is truly a rare quality.


We've seen each other, like, 5 or 6 times already since we got back, but it feels like I haven't seen her at all. Obviously, compared to spending all day every day together in june, it is basically nothing, but still! I just love hanging out with her. :)

So Katrina, if you read this and feel slightly embarrassed, I want you to know that every word of this blog post is actually an understatement and you should in no way feel undeserving. In fact, you deserve much more eloquence than I can deliver. You are one incredible "skinny girl". kiss right, kiss left. 4 kisses? WHY NOT!!!! :) :) ...don't the rest of you just hate inside jokes???


P.S. I might expect a pan of brownies, tho. :P :P JUST KIDDING. Or am I???

I'm home.

Sorry that I've been gone for so long. I've posted pics on Facebook but for those of you who don't have it...I'll post the links later.

Other than that...this is what I've been working on in my limited spare time in a desperate attempt to publish something on my blog. Sorry for it's lateness...and lameness...

You know you’re back in Canada when:

1) You’re driving your car down the highway and a semi transporting a giant house is driving towards you. And it’s not considered an oddity.
2) When someone asks what everyone wants for supper “hotdogs” is the common denominator… And those daring to stray from that path answer with “Kraft Dinner”.
3) You try on clothes in a store and the employees are asking you every two seconds whether everything is fitting fine, whether you need to try a blouse to go with the skirt you picked out, or whether you want to know about their latest promotions…again. As opposed to hiding in a dark corner somewhere, avoiding anyone or anything resembling a customer.
4) Guys think that a cotton polo shirt is dressy.
5) Dessert is served with giant jugs of ice cold water. Not 20 bottles of room temperature pop, juice, or alcohol.
6) 10 complete strangers tell you to “have a nice day now” … in one day.
7) You’re drumming your fingers on the steering wheel to the beat of a song on your radio and all the oncoming drivers “wave” back at you.
8) Old friends greet you with the good ole “shriek and hug”. And nearby onlookers don’t even blink.
9) It’s normal to pay for things like movie rentals with a credit card.
10) Tim Hortons and Shoppers Drugmarts are more numerous than houses.
11) Everything around you just seems oversized. Aka. Shampoo bottles, cars, meal portions, maple syrup bottles. Seriously, our food and hygiene products come in, like, commercial size compared to European stuff… And a VW Golf is considered a good-sized car in Germany. BAHAHAHAHA.
12) You ask for lots of ketchup at a restaurant … you get the whole bottle, not just an evil disgusted glare along with two extra 1 ounce packets.
13) Every menu in every restaurant has a minimum of 5 different burgers listed. Even Chinese restaurants.
14) There are more pick-up trucks than cars on the road.

I. LOVE. CANADA.

Too. busy. to. write. any. coherent. thoughts.

girls are here... WOOOOOOOOOO!

major. blogging. absense.

sorry. folks.

apparently i have a thing for punctuation...

Hyperventilating

ZOE AND KATRINA WILL BE HERE IN 20.5 HOURS. OOOOOOOOH MYYYYYYYYYY GOOOOOOOOOOOSH. SO EXCITED. After, like, 8 months of planning I just can't quite believe it's actually HEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEERE!!! And being in such a celebratory mood I decided to stock up on food so the jet-lagged gals won't wither away and starve on me. lol. It's actually really fun having people come out to visit, cuz it gives you an excuse to buy stuff you wouldn't normally buy just for yourself. (In my case, food in general.) I literally spent today what I normally spend in about three weeks. HAHAHA. But look at my fridge! It has never seen so much food at one time! (Or beer. Or rum. Like I said, celebratory mood...)


And those are fresh German buns on top there...YUM! I haven't even bought MYSELF fresh German buns this year...


On a totally different note:



I found this in my emails from EONS ago and it actually made me laugh out loud to read it again. Maybe it's due to my current Canada/Winnipeg nostalgia as I'm gearing up to come home in June, but either way I thought it was funny. Maybe you've read it before, maybe you haven't. Either way, if you're a Winnipegger...or have lived in/around Winnipeg for any lengthy period of time ... it should at least make you smile. :D My dad told me in an email that I'm "squeezing this Canada thing for all its worth" but let me just squeeze one more time :P ...


Subject: Guide to Winnipeg


1. First you must learn to pronounce the city name. It is WIN-A-PEG, not VIN-A-PEG and it does not matter how people pronounce it in other places.

2. Winnipeg has its own version of traffic rules. Never forget that downtown Winnipeg is composed in large part of one way streets. The only way to get out of the center of town is to turn around and start over when you reach the river.

3. All directions start with "Go down Portage".


4. Portage has no beginning and no end.


5. The 8:00 A.M. rush hour is from 6:30 to 9:30AM. The 5:00 P.M. rush hour is from 3:30 to 6:30 P.M. Friday's rush hour starts on Thursday morning.


6. If you actually stop at a yellow light, there's no chance you're from Winnipeg. Yellow lights are for sissies.


7. Lagimodiere Blvd can only be pronounced by a native Winnipegger, so do not attempt the phonetic pronunciation. People will simply tilt their heads to the right and stare at you. (And let's not forget Noter Dayme! And of course, Portidge)


8. Bingo, Bugs and Perogies are a way of life. Deal with it.


9. Construction on the Winnipeg streets in summer is a way of life and a permanent form of entertainment. (Especially those dopey-looking city workers holding up signs in traffic that say in big orange letters "SLOW:" I always want to yell, "You don't really need to advertise buddy!


10. Many bizarre sights can be explained simply by realizing "Oh, we're in Transcona!"

11. Construction crews aren't doing their job properly unless they close down all lanes except one during rush hour.


12. If someone actually has their turn signal on, it was probably left on at the factory where the car was made.


13. Buying a Winnipeg street map is a waste of money since the termination or continuation of any street is entirely at the discretion of the Works Department of the City. Example: Salter, Isabel, Balmoral, Colony, Memorial, Osborne, Dunkirk. You've gone ten miles on the same road and the name changes seven times.


14. Asking directions will help you get acquainted with numerous happy-to-help residents. It may not be any help at all for finding the address you seek.


15. Never honk your horn at another car in traffic. The bumper sticker that reads "Keep honking, I'm reloading" is considered a fair warning.


16. Exit and entry ramps on the Perimeter are just the recommended way of entering and exiting, feel free to exit at any grassy point you wish.


17. All drivers frightened of heights, stay clear of Charleswood and it's ten-foot ditches. Believe me when I say you won't get out without a hundred dollar towing ticket.

_______________

... 1.5 hours after posting all of the above...

So I wanted to make a sandwich. I opened my fridge. Then I stopped and stared. Then I thought "Wait, whose house am I at?" (Literally. No joke. That's what I was thinking.) Then I realized it was MY FRIDGE. Then I laughed. Out loud. (Can you tell I've been living on my own for a year???) But then I stopped again. What was I looking for? And what did I want on my sandwich? THERE WERE OPTIONS. I can't handle this. Usually when I open my fridge there's one thing in there. No hard decision-making necessary. So I continued to stand in front of my fridge and ask myself: what usually goes on a sandwich?
I think I'm going mental.

Grown-up stuff.

As of 11am Tuesday, the 19th of May I am no longer a registered resident of Eilenburg, Germany. How strange. I'm just starting to really realize how much I changed this year. How much I learned. And how much I'm going to miss this place that really has become my little home. I went to my last aerobics class yesterday, where I was allowed to choose what we did for the class...I definitely chose step aerobics. LOVE IT. Mainly cuz it actually makes you sweat and feel like you accomplished something afterwards. Unfortunately it was about +30 yesterday and MAJORLY humid (had a massive nighttime thunderstorm) so we were sweating already after the warm-up, but whatevs. Anyways, the point I was trying to make is that I only now realized that I had found my rut here. I had found my routine. I had various activities that kept me busy during the week. I was teaching English classes on my own without freaking out beforehand due to my lack of experience and knowledge. I regularly ran into people I know on the street or in the grocery store. But today stood out in stark contrast as I spent the morning cleaning, vacuuming, dusting, washing, and sweeping. And packing. Getting ready to leave. In approximately 67 hours Zoe and Katrina will be arriving here in Leipzig. And then there are a BILLION things to plan and organize and get in order during the week they're here with me before we take off for Cairo. Sometimes I wonder where all the grown-ups are that are supposed to be taking care of me and showing me how to do all this. And then it hits me: I AM a grown-up. Technically. ...let's leave my behaviour and maturity level out of this. :P So all these grown-up things that I'm having to deal with are normal. And I shouldn't NEED someone to hold my hand or tell me where to go, what to do, and how to do it. (Except for, of course, my lovely parents who were quite distraught to find out I was planning on travelling all over the place without insurance and then took care of it for me...What would I do without them??? Well, I'd probably be dead many times over, actually....)

But I find myself asking: When did I cross that invisible line? When did independence, self-sufficiency, rent, grocery bill, utilities, mastercard, and responsibility all become a part of my regular, every-day vocabulary? Was it December 15th, 2004? (18th birthday, for those of you who didn't get it...) Or was it the day I hopped on a plane in Toronto and decided to test my own will and determination for a year in Eilenburg, Germany? Am I the only person who wonders about these things, even gets a little freaked out by them occasionally? Does everyone else just find it all quite ordinary? And the most difficult question of all, the one I actually ask myself quite frequently, but have yet to find the answer to: Can I master this ... this 'life'? It sounds melodramatic, but I'm serious! Sometimes I wonder if I think about things too much.

I'm gonna have to think about that.

I'm such a wuss...

Good morning!


So this past weekend was my very last one in Ellefeld, where I lived with my family as a kid. Needless to say that was sad. I was there quite frequently this year and I enjoyed it to its fullest every single time. On Friday I got together with my friend Claudia Strobel and we went for a walk in the woods where Tim and I used to play a lot. I wanted to walk through there one more time before coming back to Canada. Not really much to tell. We had a good old typical German supper at her parents' house afterwards and just kept talking and talking. Avoiding the inevitable goodbye. And anyone who knows me knows that I HATE goodbyes. With a passion. I actually get NERVOUS before goodbyes. Sometimes I just try to move off to a corner while everyone else is saying goodbyes so that they might just pass by me without seeing me. Come to think of it, that hasn't ever worked, but I still keep trying. I'm nothing if not consistent. I just find goodbyes so awkward. Should you hug, shake hands, just say something? (Obviously with good friends you KNOW that you should hug them, but then how long should the hug be? How hard should you hug them? Should you hug more than once? Who's gonna be the first one to break the last hug and take a step back? You can tell the other person a LOT with a simple hug. If it's too short and not hard enough you tell them you don't care. If it's too long and too hard then you seem a) desperate, and b) it could just get awkward....I know, I know, I overanalyze everything.) And then you have to think of something short but fitting to say...and who has ever heard me come up with something SHORT to say ... never mind FITTING! And then the other person always has tears in their eyes and I'm an unemotional robot when it comes to crying so then I just feel like an insensitive dork. Goodbyes never really hit me because it never actually FEELS like I won't see him or her again for a long time. I kind of only realize how long it was when I actually see them again after a long absence. (Did that make sense?) I often wish I could just do goodbyes over email. So much easier. I'm such a copout. Wuss. But I can't help it. I just find goodbyes so AWKWARD.


So ya, this weekend I said goodbye to Claudia, and then to another one of my closest friends out here, who is coincidentally also named Claudia.
We took the whole day on Saturday to hang out. We had planned a trip to Prague together for a weekend in April, but she got a really bad virus and we had to cancel that. So it had been a really long time since we last saw one another and now it was already the LAST time. We went up to the Goeltzschtalbruecke
(world's largest brick bridge...unfortunately also a hotspot for local suicide attempts), which was another request of mine...to visit the bridge, not the suicide part. I always thought it was so cool as a kid and I had definitely planned on seeing it at some point this year. Who woulda thought I would need 10.5 months to get around to it??? But it was super fun. We had a little picnic and then tried to climb up to the top of the bridge. I happened to be wearing heels that day. NOT a good idea, but heck, I thought we were just gonna eat some food, gaze at the giantness of the bridge, and move on. But I shoulda known better. I always have to find something stupid to do in the most inconvenient shoes/clothes possible. I had to run from tree to tree to try to keep from rolling down the hill.
I almost died, kinda sprained my ankle, and by the end was seriously considering using the surrounding brush as a toilet, but it was totally worth it. It reminded me of our class fieldtrip to that same bridge in elementary school.
And then on Sunday I was at Christina's one last time to say goodbye. Again, nothing to report. We just chatted all day long and then went over to her parents' for supper. She was my best friend for 4 of the 5 years in Germany so I spent LOTS of time at her house as a kid. It was cool to eat dinner with her parents and little sister (who ain't so little anymore! She's turned into this gorgeous 16 year old. Crazy.) BBQed just like old times.

And then on Monday I had to say goodbye to the Maedlers, my family on loan, as they called themselves. They were like a second set of parents to me and my brother as children already, so you can imagine how close I was to them after this year. I always stayed at their house on the weekends in Ellefeld and I spent a lot of time with them. I hate goodbyes. But again, it just didn't feel like this was actually the last time. Except for the tears in Nancy's eyes. It was a great weekend, but I was also relieved when it was over, just cuz I knew how many goodbyes I had to get through. I did chicken out tho by not going to church on Sunday. I mean, I was invited for supper at Christina's (our summer church services are in the evening), so I had a good excuse, but I couldn't face going to church and saying goodbye to another 10 million people. I know, I'm an awful person. And have possibly insulted several people. But I couldn't do it. Is that terrible? If it is don't tell me. I already feel bad enough.
The only crummy part of the weekend is that I was never able to get together with one of my best friends, Daniela. And thus was also not able to say goodbye to her family, and I was very close to her fam, all my life. That was hard for me. But it can't be changed now, so ...

I just cannot believe how fast a year has gone by. When I got here I thought to myself: "Wow. A whole year. Now what?" And I just figured I'd have lots of time to do everything I wanted. To see all my friends 5, 6, 7 times. To go for long walks in our old woods all the time. To have lots of time to myself. Well I was wrong. Dead wrong. Some of my friends I only got to see once or twice! Where did my year go? The plan was also to become a half-hermit. I was really looking forward to that, after 4 years of university, work, and stress. I mean, this year in Germany wasn't stressful, but it was anything but slow-paced and relaxed; I was definitely running from one place to the next, especially on the weekends. PEOPLE, BEFORE I KNOW IT I'M GONNA BE 40 YEARS OLD. I'm tellin ya...

But this song makes me happy. Oh so happy. I just discovered it. And ordered the CD this morning on Amazon. Lol. I don't care if you make fun of me for liking it. I can't help it, their music is just ridiculously contagious. And the male singer's dancing makes me literally laugh out loud every time I watch the video. (I posted it on Facebook already, but for those of you who missed it... it will make you happy, i nearly guarantee it. :P)

oh, and here are the pics from the weekend, again for those of you without facebook.