I think this blog has outlived its usefulness. It has been a friend and a diary of sorts, but the time has come to move on. I am determined to look ahead to a new chapter in my life and so I leave this blog behind. I might return in future, but for now, don't bother looking for updates.
Goodbye,
WG
Saturday, January 11, 2014
Monday, August 19, 2013
Cracked
It's been a long time since I posted anything - and I haven't any reason for my silence.
Tomorrow is my last first day of school, and it's a terror and a relief. I don't know what to feel except sadness. I have my share of regrets, but they pass like the afternoon thunderstorms. I'm very tired, although I slept for the past twenty-four hours. I'm not...waiting, per se, but I am restless. Lonely.
I have made my choices this summer. I have brought about some endings and accepted those I cannot change. I have sought solace where I can find it, and tried to be the best person I can be. It doesn't ever feel like enough, but there is no going back. I can say that, and mean it. There is no reason to go backwards and every reason to go forward.
This year will be my year. It is my last year, in a way, of childhood and protection. I'm so grateful for the way we structure life here in America - it means I can adjust, little by little, to adulthood. But, it also means that the end must come, and it has. Senior year of high school was the best and worst of my life up until then. I've been through a lot since that year, overcome obstacles and experienced miracles.
I'm still lonely. But I know it isn't permanent. I'm still frightened, but I'm sick of being frightened. I'm strong. I'll meet these endings with my head held high and my chin raised. I refuse to be broken. Not even a little. Cracked, maybe. Broken, never.
Salut
WG
Tomorrow is my last first day of school, and it's a terror and a relief. I don't know what to feel except sadness. I have my share of regrets, but they pass like the afternoon thunderstorms. I'm very tired, although I slept for the past twenty-four hours. I'm not...waiting, per se, but I am restless. Lonely.
I have made my choices this summer. I have brought about some endings and accepted those I cannot change. I have sought solace where I can find it, and tried to be the best person I can be. It doesn't ever feel like enough, but there is no going back. I can say that, and mean it. There is no reason to go backwards and every reason to go forward.
This year will be my year. It is my last year, in a way, of childhood and protection. I'm so grateful for the way we structure life here in America - it means I can adjust, little by little, to adulthood. But, it also means that the end must come, and it has. Senior year of high school was the best and worst of my life up until then. I've been through a lot since that year, overcome obstacles and experienced miracles.
I'm still lonely. But I know it isn't permanent. I'm still frightened, but I'm sick of being frightened. I'm strong. I'll meet these endings with my head held high and my chin raised. I refuse to be broken. Not even a little. Cracked, maybe. Broken, never.
Salut
WG
Thursday, July 11, 2013
In Which I Become a Mother
She is a darling little girl named Skye, who drives me mad by waking me up at quarter to four in the morning because she won't sleep. (Won't, not can't.)
In the past few weeks I have: suffered relationship drama, resolved said drama, flown across the world, become a mother, moved house and turned twenty-one. That's a lot to happen to a girl in three weeks.
I have resolved my fall class schedule and am currently on the prowl for jobs. It's an annoying process, trying to convince a company to hire me. I don't look forward to the post-uni years in which this matters even more.
My current struggle (aside from employment) is getting Miss Skye to eat. She is as picky as her mama was, sigh, and not cooperative in the least.
I also discovered, on a completely random side-note, that I enjoy bowling.
Can't follow my thoughts? I don't judge you; most days, neither can I.
WG
In the past few weeks I have: suffered relationship drama, resolved said drama, flown across the world, become a mother, moved house and turned twenty-one. That's a lot to happen to a girl in three weeks.
I have resolved my fall class schedule and am currently on the prowl for jobs. It's an annoying process, trying to convince a company to hire me. I don't look forward to the post-uni years in which this matters even more.
My current struggle (aside from employment) is getting Miss Skye to eat. She is as picky as her mama was, sigh, and not cooperative in the least.
I also discovered, on a completely random side-note, that I enjoy bowling.
Can't follow my thoughts? I don't judge you; most days, neither can I.
WG
Sunday, June 2, 2013
Life Lessons
A random collection of things I've learned over time.
#22: Not brushing your hair leads to tears.
#104: I don't have any blood.
#105: An insignificant shaving cut turns the bathroom into a scene from Saw IV.
#87: The bed doesn't make itself. Ever.
#31: Do not watch comedy shows in the library during exam time.
#182: Gingers run in packs.
#731: The battery never dies unless you're expecting a call.
#25: They can't read your mind. (Really.)
#19: The money you make yourself is harder to spend.
#1: This was a good one, but I forgot it while watching TV.
WG
#22: Not brushing your hair leads to tears.
#104: I don't have any blood.
#105: An insignificant shaving cut turns the bathroom into a scene from Saw IV.
#87: The bed doesn't make itself. Ever.
#31: Do not watch comedy shows in the library during exam time.
#182: Gingers run in packs.
#731: The battery never dies unless you're expecting a call.
#25: They can't read your mind. (Really.)
#19: The money you make yourself is harder to spend.
#1: This was a good one, but I forgot it while watching TV.
WG
Saturday, June 1, 2013
The Boyfriend Post
I'm sitting here sulking because it started to rain before I could make it to the library, so naturally I'm online looking at pictures of cats. And then it hits me: everything I see, the ones that make me laugh the most, remind me of my boyfriend.
So here's a collection of my favourite pics that make me think of the Beloved Boy, who is busily working on his end-of-semester assignments so he can get top marks and rule the world.
So here's a collection of my favourite pics that make me think of the Beloved Boy, who is busily working on his end-of-semester assignments so he can get top marks and rule the world.
I feel safest when I'm with him. I leave my phone behind, I don't check my Facebook page; I know that when I'm with him the rest of the world isn't out to get me.
And he's my bear. For cuddles and snuggles and kisses and laughs.
Yup.
WolfGrrl
Monday, May 20, 2013
A Few Little Things
I'm keeping my thoughts to myself for a bit while I process. I have a lot to think about these days. So...I naturally head to the Internet to make this thinking process easier, haha. Have some gems from my thinking and wandering.
It's the little, weird things in life that make me smile. Besides, have you looked at that koala? I mean, really, I knew Australia was full of deadly things, but never the cute, cuddly koala!
Also, if the Bella-cat is anything to go by, Man's Weird Reclusive Roommate happens to also be loud, insane and perpetually hungry.
Ta
WolfGrrl
Monday, May 13, 2013
David, Boris and TP
Well, here I am again. In bed, alone, with cold feet. Actually, I'm not alone: I have David Attenborough's biography Life on Air, a stuffed Kiwi bird named Boris and a roll of toilet paper in bed with me.
What do these three items have in common? Well, that's an interesting story...
Years and years ago, my mother read Attenborough's book and loved it. She recently (as in a few months ago) recommended it to me as a good read and I have been trying to find it in either a book shop or at one of the libraries. On my last trip into town I found it, and have been dutifully working my way through it. I've learned a lot from Attenborough's programmes on the BBC; ours is definitely a learning-oriented household. I may have never seen a Spongebob marathon, but I can quote Walking with Dinosaurs word-for-word. (And Lord of the Rings, but shhhh.)
Boris the Kiwi bird was a gift from my boyfriend for my last birthday. His real name (the toy, not my boyfriend) is Boris the Perv, because...well...he's pervy. We had a talk about this, and he has since reconciled himself to life at the bottom of the bed/on the floor. I usually manage to rescue him, but not always. I am not thrilled when I wake up to a bird beak wedged between my boobs. Or legs. Awkward...
The toilet paper is in my bed because I have a cold. Not because I'm a bed-wetter, or have a portaloo in my bureau or whatever. I ran out of tissues earlier today and was too tired and lazy to walk to the store to replace them. (Although I did walk out of my required film screening, and I did walk to the corner dairy for sustenance). I hate having colds. I never look as sick as I feel, so I end up schlupping around like a zombie who looks like a normal, if slightly unfocused, human being. Arghh. I also sound like Yoda because the goop in my head (yes, that IS a technical term, thanks) makes me mix up my words. Thank God I don't have any presentations; it's always fun to explain to the class - with a straight face - why you sound like the offspring of Yoda and Chewbacca.
I promised the Beloved Boyfriend that I would go to bed early. And I meant to, honest. But, well, I had a little freak-out regarding my History paper (already turned in) and my half-finished Anthro and Film papers, due next week. Sigh.
Goodnight. Or rather, goobnit.
WolfGrrl
What do these three items have in common? Well, that's an interesting story...
Years and years ago, my mother read Attenborough's book and loved it. She recently (as in a few months ago) recommended it to me as a good read and I have been trying to find it in either a book shop or at one of the libraries. On my last trip into town I found it, and have been dutifully working my way through it. I've learned a lot from Attenborough's programmes on the BBC; ours is definitely a learning-oriented household. I may have never seen a Spongebob marathon, but I can quote Walking with Dinosaurs word-for-word. (And Lord of the Rings, but shhhh.)
Boris the Kiwi bird was a gift from my boyfriend for my last birthday. His real name (the toy, not my boyfriend) is Boris the Perv, because...well...he's pervy. We had a talk about this, and he has since reconciled himself to life at the bottom of the bed/on the floor. I usually manage to rescue him, but not always. I am not thrilled when I wake up to a bird beak wedged between my boobs. Or legs. Awkward...
The toilet paper is in my bed because I have a cold. Not because I'm a bed-wetter, or have a portaloo in my bureau or whatever. I ran out of tissues earlier today and was too tired and lazy to walk to the store to replace them. (Although I did walk out of my required film screening, and I did walk to the corner dairy for sustenance). I hate having colds. I never look as sick as I feel, so I end up schlupping around like a zombie who looks like a normal, if slightly unfocused, human being. Arghh. I also sound like Yoda because the goop in my head (yes, that IS a technical term, thanks) makes me mix up my words. Thank God I don't have any presentations; it's always fun to explain to the class - with a straight face - why you sound like the offspring of Yoda and Chewbacca.
I promised the Beloved Boyfriend that I would go to bed early. And I meant to, honest. But, well, I had a little freak-out regarding my History paper (already turned in) and my half-finished Anthro and Film papers, due next week. Sigh.
Goodnight. Or rather, goobnit.
WolfGrrl
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