Friday, 17 November 2017

Citizens, finally

Well, we made it. My family and I are finally Australian citizens. 

Wednesday, November 15th, 2017. We showed up, hugged our guests, took the pledge and became Australian citizens. Just like that. Of course, it was easier for me. Mom (Mum?) and Dad did the hard work while I just showed up. 

It feels good. It feels like another piece of the Me Puzzle slotting into place. God knows I've spent enough time trying to figure out who I am and this is one thing that feels right, like I was meant to do this. I am so blessed and thankful for this opportunity. I'm now fully Australian and fully Canadian, right where I belong. (Plus when I get my Australian passport, I'll be the real-life spy of my dreams with a stash of passports. Watch out, world.)

I'm not the same person as I was six years ago. A girl with strawberry-blonde hair who couldn't talk to strangers turned into a sort-of woman with purple hair who still gets lost in her head but knows how to find her way out. I think thirteen-year-old me would have been proud of the eighteen-year-old me, and I pray eighteen-year-old me will be proud of the twenty-four-year-old me. I think I will be. God hasn't let me down in the past, and I don't think He will in the future. 

I want to say thank you. I could write a whole book trying to thank everyone, so I'll try to keep this short. Thank you to my readers, who took the time to read the ramblings of a shy girl from the Albertan prairies. Thank you to everyone who helped us through the good times and the bad, who made the transition bearable (and also really fun). I couldn't have gotten through without my friends (old and new), family (again, old and new) and everyone in between (teachers, coworkers, pastors and kind strangers). I have borrowed mattresses, winter coats, tea, cars, dogs (plural), shoulders to cry on, Netflix accounts and homework answers. The kindness of the people in my life - Canadian, Australian, and everyone in the middle - has never failed to astound me. 

Thank you. 

Tuesday, 14 November 2017

It's good to be creative again (and my brain is weird)

It feels really good to be creative again. 


After a full year at university with little to no creativity going on, I'm surprised at how good it feels to sit down and write again, to get violet gel pen smudged across my fingers. Camera clicks and candles, late-night poetry, tending to my army of succulents lined up on my window sill. Mascara, musty pages of my favourite books and figuring out how to match my wardrobe to my new dip-dyed hair. 

I've always been a creative person, whether or not I've wanted to admit it. My creativity has taken many different forms over the years, the results both good and cringe-worthy. In either case, I've learned something about my art and myself. 

I won't pretend anything I've made is perfect. Good, even. But if I've enjoyed doing it, does it matter what the end result is? 

My brain is a bit weird. I'm both left-brained and right-brained, a mix of gears and cogs and pastels bleeding together like the sunrises across the horizon. Calculus is relaxing, getting lost in derivatives and integrals. Writing is beautiful, a whole world on its own for me to tumble into. 

I'm also a bit weird in that I want careers with both halves of my brain. I've always been a hard-worker and a dreamer, and for some reason it hasn't sunk into my heart that I've chosen to pursue two different careers, both difficult on their own to achieve. I guess when you have so many privileges you want the galaxy instead of just the world. 

And I think that's ok.

Monday, 6 November 2017

Life's Like That: Stupid things I've done during exams part 3 (in which I wreck a pillowcase (and still can't sew to save my life))

(You can find part 1 and part 2 here.)

If you'll remember from last week's post, I did something stupid which basically involved dropping my blanket in a candle then leaving it until the smell tipped me off that something had gone horribly wrong.

Well. That night I was studying some more on my bedroom floor (yes, I study on my bedroom floor) and I had my pillow propped against my bed frame (as you do (let's assume I'm a bit of a weird individual when it comes to exams ok?)). My pillow was scrunched up and stuffed underneath my bed, but hey, I had other things to worry about besides The Scrunching of my Pillow.

My butt had fallen asleep, so I yanked my pillow out from underneath my bed to rearrange myself (and maybe reassess my life choices). Unfortunately, due to the radioactive string cheese that was my brain I had forgotten the screw sticking out of my bed frame. This dastardly screw had been my downfall on more than one occasion. Out of pure spite it had ripped several holes in my Barbie suitcase filled with my American Girl paraphernalia and I always manage to hit it whenever I wriggle underneath the bed. (This has prompted many a conversation about how I rescued a small child from a crocodile and this scratch on my arm definitely wasn't because I was attacked by my bed.)

As a direct result of this neglected fact, the screw caught on my pillowcase and left a fantastic rip as a gift. Sadly, my mom was in the room and as you could imagine she was less than pleased at my one man army's attempt to destroy every piece of linen in her household. 

Of course, I had to stitch my pillowcase back up and as you might remember I'm not great with sewing. Thankfully, the chaos is mostly over. As long as my pillow is flipped the right way and my blanket is tucked in it's almost as if nothing happened.

Good old exams, right? 

Wednesday, 1 November 2017

Life's Like That: Stupid things I've done during exam time part 2 (in which I almost burn the house down)

Imagine this. Unwashed hair in a messy bun. (And not the one where you try to make it look messy and like you don't care, but a legitimately messy bun.) A pencil stuck in my hair, wearing pyjamas that probably needed a good wash. I'm sitting in a sweaty mess in the corner of the dining room on my beanbag, textbooks, pencils and workbooks splayed across the floor. I have a cup of tea to my right and a candle burning on the floor to my left, a blanket across my lap. 

My mind is frazzled. Formulas and random facts float through my brain, wrap themselves around my spine. Exams are just around the corner. I finish my tea in a frantic swig, then throw my blanket to the side and stumble to my feet. I need another cup of tea in order to think. 

The kettle boils, the dog barks, the TV in the next room crackles. I sniff. Something is burning. Then I remember. The candle. The blanket. 

Oh no. 

I race back to my beanbag to find my blanket carelessly strewn over the candle, charred synthetic fabric mixing with the tangerine scented wax. It's not on fire, but the once cornflower blanket is now ebony. 

I yank my blanket out of the candle to find a giant hole on the edge. I sigh. That's exam brain for you. That evening, I sew up the frayed edges with shaky stitches. It's a large enough blanket that you wouldn't see the hole unless it was completely spread out or if you were looking for it, but it's still a quiet reminder of how out of it I can be sometimes. 

(See part 1 and part 3.)

Have you ever done something exceedingly stupid like me?

Tuesday, 24 October 2017

Life's Like That: Stupid things I've done during exams part 1 (In which I insult veteran)

Heyo! So I'm back. Exams this term were extremely tough but I think I did alright, but unfortunately I had to drop most fun things in my life (including blogging and like, sleep). Which sucked. But I'm back now! 

During exam time, I was pretty stressed out. I was lacking on sleep, had more caffeine in my blood than usual and wasn't 100% with it. 

I was at work when I found myself serving an amputee. I work in a pharmacy, and we often get amputees and disabled customers so it wasn't unusual. So this guy was about middle-aged, a bit rough looking. According to his prescription, he was a veteran. It's possible he could have lost his leg from diabetes, but my money would be on that he lost it while serving. 

When he finished paying, I took a deep breath. I'd had a thought bouncing around the inside of my head, and like I said before I wasn't functioning at peak capacity. When he finished paying, I said, "So I'm sorry if this is super offensive but about your leg..."

He looked so scared and for a second I thought he was going to turn around and run away. I know I certainly would. Before he did, I said, "Have you ever dressed up like a pirate for Halloween? Because that would be awesome." 

He looked a bit stunned, but managed a smile. "No, I haven't." At about this time I kinda clued in that you probably shouldn't ask an amputee veteran if they've dressed up like a pirate for Halloween but it was kind of too late. 

We both kinda laughed nervously and he hurried away, probably rushing off to move to another country. 

(See part 2 and part 3.)

Have you ever made a social mistake? Tell me in the comments!

Thursday, 28 September 2017

Exam break

Hi everyone, as you may (or may not) have noticed, I haven't posted in the last couple of weeks and I won't be able to for another few weeks due to exams. Until I'm back, check out these other awesome blogs:

RM @ The Book Hound
Emily @ Ink, Inc.
Grace @ Somewhat Reserved

Thanks for your patience!

Tuesday, 12 September 2017

In which I watch too many vintage films

(So admittedly I haven't watched a vintage film in a while, but it was an obsession of mine during the uni holidays and I can't wait to get into them again.)

I find vintage films fascinating. They're a glimpse into the past that seem more... intimate? than books. (I'm definitely not bashing books, because I'm pretty sure if you cut me open crumpled pages and ink stains would fall out.) I don't know why, but when I watch a vintage film, especially the older ones, I feel like I fall into another world, another time. And, in a way, I guess I do.

Let's talk about The Astronomer's Dream (1898). It's a French, silent, black-and-white film that follows an astronomer's dream (plot twist, I know). The film is only three minutes long, but each time I watch it's like I've slipped from this world into another, where dreams and nightmares and the waking world are one in the same. The plot throws logic over the balcony and watches it shatter on the tiles far below, and I found myself jumping with it just to see what would happen. It's weird and wacky and wonderful.

Maybe I'm being dramatic. (I probably am, to be honest. (Maybe (definitely) I stayed up too late to write this and none of this makes any sense.)) But maybe by taking away the distractions of sound, CGI, colour, decent characters even, we can catch a glimpse into a time when humans longed to tell stories and scratchy frame-by-frame films were just another way to do it. These films remind us of our surreal, foggy daydreams and of the monsters in our heads, they point to a deeper, simpler version of the universe where logic doesn't exist in a way we can understand it. 

Or, maybe it's just a black-and-white film.

Some of my favourites:

The Astronomer's Dream (1898)  
Breakfast at Tiffany's (1961)
Frankenstien (1901)  
Gojira (Godzilla) (1954)
The Haunted House (1908) 
Rebecca (1940)

What's your favourite black-and-white film?