casa del vaginal anarchy

here’s the thing about living with girls when you’re an adult:

HOLY SHIT, IT’S AMAZING!

coming from someone who has never really enjoyed living with other human beings, this comes as a total shock. but i mean it- maybe it’s because i’ve known katie for ten years, and the shit we found funny when we were kids are still just as hilarious today. maybe it’s the fact that neither of us have actually matured since we got our first period, or that dick jokes and fart noises still have us roaring in stitches on the floor…

maybe it’s because ten years ago, i looked like this:

and katie looked like this:

so absolutely every other joke we make is about anarchy, and feminism, and making fun of how stupid we looked, and how awesome our childhoods were. i’m so lucky to be where i am- that after a gut-wrenching breakup with the man i wanted to spend the rest of my life with, i get to share a home with someone i grew up with. someone who knows me, and gets me, and who paints my nails when i watch criminal minds and cooks me fish for dinner after bootcamp.

WE ARE LIVING THE ASEXUAL DREAM, Y’ALL.

i was really, really worried about how i would adjust to roommate life after not having roommates in over a year. how i would adjust to other people’s CRAP in MY HOUSE. but the fact is this: everything is perfect. her stuff “goes” with my stuff… we love the same things, we appreciate art and vintage and punk rock bands we’re still in love with. she’s an excellent cook, and she has a heart the size of the planet. and what was once me and dan’s house, turned MY HOUSE, has now transitioned so seamlessly into our house.

also dubbed casa del vaginal anarchy.

BECAUSE OI OI, FEMINISM, FUCK YOU.

etc.

it’s the summer, internet. i have two days of work left before i run out of here with my shirt above my head, boobs out, screaming SPRING BREAK. the first real break i’ve give myself since i graduated high school and spent days broke, hungry, and crying in me and m’s apartment, waiting for him to come home.

fucking crazy, right?

half the women in my life are either married, pregnant, engaged, or happily co-habitating with their lovers. and considering just a few months ago i had already picked out me and dan’s wedding song, and peed on a stick because i totally thought we’d accidentally gotten pregnant and the first thing that popped into my head was “well, at least we love each other”- considering how fucking insane that sounds and how long ago that seems and how sad and lonely that makes me feel… all those things considered- i’m okay.

there’s something to be said for the strength and support the women in my life have given me. i am constantly laughing, having fun, drinking wine, being productive and carefree and so overwhelmed by how big my heart feels.

this must be one of the best places i’ve been (emotionally) in my life. maybe it’s the season, or the fact that i will soon have time to go to the beach, read in the park, nap IN THE AFTERNOON ON A WEEKDAY (holy shit, what does that even feel like?!), spend time with my night owl friends who work evenings, who fucking knows… i feel so LIMITLESS!

i have a movie date tonight, bootcamp this week, my friend’s champagne 30 birthday party on thursday, a BBQ & potential baseball game on friday, and one of my favourite bands is playing a local venue next tuesday- so many fun summer activities almost every single day of the week. how do i even have time to feel sad?

in other news… katie’s dog finnegan ate up my $300 hugo boss frames, so i bought two new pairs:

SUMMER LOVIN’ !!!

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lately

i should probably just rename this blog “progress reports of a girl who takes one step forward, and ten steps back”, or better yet “little elle: why bother”

HA! i’m funny.

this is what the mancave looked like a few weeks ago…

this is what it looked like after dan lived in here for a few weeks when we decided to break up

 

and through all of this? thank goodness for this… all of it:

late night wine & strawberries on my porch

hanging out in the park & blowing bubbles

midnight street frisbee, in the heart of the city

on letting go

(…) so now i’m on a bus writing to you. it’s about 1:45am, everyone is sleeping and the stars are gorgeous. the engine of the bus is relaxing. it’s pitch black except for this little light above my head. my feet hurt from all the walking, along with my brain from thoughts of the little time spent with such a beautiful you. it’s been two days away from where my heart is, and it already feels like an eternity

i’m not good at packing.

i over-think and under-plan and fuck, i’m a mess. frankly, this is the first move i’ve made wherein i am not running, or doing things hastily. this has been planned and carefully thought out and yet, i’m programmed. i’ve been wired to act as if moving means hiding, running. i am so overly stressed by my situation at work, and i’m worn. on the bright side, i’ve been carefully boxing things i know i’ll enjoy having in me and dan’s apartment. i’m purging the poison i’ve been stowing in my boxes, in closets, under piles of clothes, in my heart. i’m ridding myself of furniture we don’t need to make room for pieces that will complement everything else we own. i’m choosing things based on dan’s taste, and mine. things that will mesh together in our home.

i trashed my m box.

i’m so sick of this negative non-sense i’ve been carrying around like a coward- like some sort of fucking medal showcasing my broken pieces. and i’m done with that. it’s a new year and a new opportunity and a new house. i’m starting from scratch, again… and this time i’m doing it right. i’m completing my healing process and moving forward. m has no right to invade a space i can finally call home, with a man who has me completely wrapped up inside of him. dan has helped me heal more than he’ll ever be able to understand, and i’m so grateful for his patience.

originally i wanted to make a big production of the disposing of the m box. but truthfully? the scars are reminder enough- what good will it to to wallow and cry and give him the fucking privilege of making me cry, again. and so i scrapped that idea, briefly sifted through the only happy pages of our relationship, and then trashed it. goodbye, good riddance, fuck you. that’s it. that’s all it deserved.

i am so drained from work and trying to deal with my anger. i had a panic attack for the first time since, well, m… to be honest. i haven’t felt so ripped apart and beaten down and years, and it’s time to be healthy. i can’t keep letting people destroy me like this if i ever plan to be happy again, on the inside, i mean. my brains, my heart. i need to fix myself.

what am i looking forward to this weekend? alone time with my lover. not doing much of anything, really. we’re celebrating valentine’s day on sunday- and i’m not quite sure what dan has up his sleeve, but i do know i’ll be giving him the framed (silly & naked) pictures my friend took of me, and i can’t wait to see the hilarious look on his face.

tomorrow’s a new day, and i’m turning today’s page.

i’ll see ya’ll on monday.

xx

home sweet hell

just the thought of our bed
makes me crumble like the plaster
where you punched the wall beside my head
and i try to draw the line
but it ends up running down the middle of me
(most of the time)

– ani difranco

i was sitting on the floor of my one bedroom attic apartment, looking around at its emptiness. i wanted so badly to love that house- it’s charming red and yellow kitchen with the polkadotted wall paper, the clawfoot tub in the aqua-coloured bathroom, the slanted sunroom with broken screens. everything about that place was charming. i loved the original wood floors, the heavy doors, the smells, the sounds it made at night. i loved the crinkling sound of the records spinning in the living room as i put away our clean clothes in the bedroom. i loved the dining room- even after he’d painted one wall blood red, on a whim. even after i’d moved our misfits poster from the bedroom door, to the wall behind the front door, to hide the broken plaster where his fist had gone through that one summer night.

we had a 13inch television that sat on an empty moving box in the living room and we stole cable from the neighbours downstairs. we had a computer that didn’t work, sitting on a broken desk. we had an old blue sofa i scored online for $20. we had a tiny table big enough for two, and we had a chess set. we had an old futon mattress for a bed and one black dresser- we shared both. we had an empty fridge and empty cupboards. we had one lamp, and a pile of books. we had a record player and two records. we had a dictionary, an old barrel we used for a side table, and one plant i couldn’t even keep alive.

that’s it.

i often wonder what our neighbours thought- if they could hear his yelling, and my crying. if they could hear us running after each other down the stairs, and into the night- screaming at each other in the middle of the street. i wonder if they were nervous when it was quiet- too quiet. i was always scared they’d call the police, they’d take him away, and i’d be alone again. i wanted anything but to be alone in that house again.

i started having night terrors when he wouldn’t come home. i’d have these vivid dreams where i’d wake up to the sound of a record spinning in the living room, and when i’d go in to turn it off, something would grab me by the legs and drag me through the house, screaming. and when i wasn’t having night terrors, i wasn’t sleeping at all. i’d lay in bed with the cat and just stare at the walls… contemplating my way out, wondering if i could ever live without him. wondering if i could escape him, if i even tried.

i look back now and wonder why it took me so long to leave- why i was so in love with him despite everything. we had so many plans to fix our horribly broken relationship- we thought we could rebuild ourselves in that tiny little apartment. and we tried… we’d have long bubble baths in our giant tub, and we’d read books together in bed. we would lay on the couch and rub each others’ feet and watch cartoons. but when the money ran out, the food ran out. and then it became a fight for survival. we had no hope and i had become too tired to try anymore. so we stopped trying at all. he’d be high on drugs and the adrenaline of effortless hate, and i would be the target. i was always his fucking target.

but i wanted so badly to be the one to fix him, to fix us.

<

my weekend, according to my blackberry

what a whirlwind!

biz, khala, dan and i decided to take a last minute trip to montreal on friday after work to see the no bunny show and hang out with some friends. we ran into a bunch of ottawa friends, i got to see some of my favourite people, and i REALLY enjoyed the no bunny set.

on saturday morning we drove home early, got mc donald’s breakfast, and i spent the day napping. that night the montrealers came over to my house to play drinking-cranium, have a dance party, and get totally silly. on sunday morning howie and i made a huge breakfast feast for all of us

when the montrealers left biz, andrew, zoe and i turned my living room into a giant bed, ate snacks, napped all day/night, and watched movies. it was GLORIOUS.

upside down snuggie

biz & i cuddling

moose and i cuddling

moose and zoe cuddling

…and not a creature was stirring, not even a zombie-demon-cat

finally!

i know you’re all dying to get a peek into the new place- but i’m sans computer or internet right now, so you’ll have to bare with these blackberry shots!

a corner of my bedroom…

andrew and stef, totally exhausted from the move

$300 later…

first feast with the gang!

last night, watching intervention at luc’s house, dead to the world

i’m not alone, i’m just on my own

i’m exhausted.

saturday’s move was quick & easy and i’m glad it’s all over. so many things happened this weekend but i’m too tired to attempt a recap. moose the cat kept me up all night, screaming. it’s been a rough transition for him too.

last night was my first night alone. friends have been staying over every night and it’s been fantastic… don’t get me wrong, but i was pretty excited to finally be in my house alone. i got back from luc’s around 10ish and wandered around the house- not really knowing what to do with myself. i started packing a lunch and the silence hit me like a ton of bricks. i love my new house, and i love all the love and effort put into making it a home, but it still doesn’t feel like home quite yet.

every time i walked into me, andy and matty’s house, i always felt at home. the colours were warm, the air smelled of a home-cooked meal, and the lights were always dimmed. the boys were usually in the kitchen, making their lunches or playing games on their computers. matty and i would talk about the day, and he’d usually prance around the kitchen- singing 90s songs and dancing while cooking. he always asked me if i had a good day. i miss that about him. i would kiss andy on the mouth, and then on the neck. he tasted sweet and salty, he smelled like hardwork and the cologne i bought him.

i can’t begin to explain how lonely i felt, making lunch for one, in my tiny little kitchen. i felt so fucking defeated. it still smells like fresh paint and stale air. i want nothing more than to run home, take off my stupid business wear, throw on an oversized tshirt and make dinner. i want it to smell lived-in. i want it to smell like home.

i want to stop beating myself up for making the right decision.