Archives for posts with tag: Love

I adored the oak but was drawn by the sounds of the playful sea. And so I find myself stuck neither here nor there because those waves always move me but I should know by now they wouldn’t keep me.

It’s always this impression of freedom – the wild thrill of those waves in the wide open – crashing, lulling and bubbling around my toes, ankles, fingers and hips, and I should leave but it moves me. It pulls me until I am covered, dripping, floating, thirsty, happy, searching, giggling, surrendering, held and left, and held, and … Read the rest of this entry »

I was fresh at university, nineteen years old, when I had to get a surgery. It’s a weird surgery my mom is convinced is for those who hang out on their computers too long, called a Ganglionectomy. Basically they removed a cyst from my wrist that was making my fingers move on their own in a painful kind of way. Anyhow, not the point.

So I had this surgery, and then, everything sucked.

At the same time of this surgery, I was dating this guy I’d say was my first real boyfriend. He was obviously handsome, and hilarious. But I had this surgery and after puking up all the anesthetic, I got a call from him on my navy blue Nokia cell phone.

“I can’t see you anymore. You’re marriage material and I can’t do that right now,” he said. Read the rest of this entry »

The rain had paused long enough for her to run down the street. The sidewalk was painted by the faded orange street lamps, and we were just supposed to drive by, continue on, keep going.

Of course I couldn’t. She was obviously crying, so I pull around the block and park. “I’m just going to see if she’s alright,” I say to my coworker in my passenger seat.

I hate wearing shoes. Even flip flops, I just want bare feet. I’m sure I should be concerned about glass or nails or something else that could harm me. But tonight, I’m just not.

I open my car door, bare feet onto the rain-soaked pavement and run towards her. She’s half running, half distraught, but she turns and stops when I ask if she’s alright.

I don’t really mind that we’re in the middle of the road, that we may be in someone’s way. I don’t mind, the girl just needed a quick reminder; nothing gets in the way of love.

Read the rest of this entry »

Did you know in Canada of every 100 incidences of sexual assault, six are reported to the police. Six.

Did you hear? Six of 100 sexual assaults.

One in four women across North America alone will be sexually abused in their lifetime. Now go ahead and count the number of women in your family, since 80 per cent of these assaults are happening to them.

Include your extended family members.

Now consider your female friends.

Can we talk yet? Read the rest of this entry »

I used to dream big.

Everything swelled inside my head like clouds on a blue sky day and I was grateful for the shade as it would come,

and it would go. Read the rest of this entry »

I remember the first time I read Blue Like Jazz, my heart slipped out of my chest and onto my sleeve. I would read, pause, close my eyes, open my eyes, and read it all over again. The pages consumed me.

Donald Miller has grown since then, and it’s a beautiful thing to see humanity continue to become itself. However, this one little piece written about a time at college gets me over and over again because humility, responsibility, and acceptance should never be grown out of. It hits me right in the heart. I melt, want to change, and then see little to nothing look differently afterwards.

So, in the book, there’s this time he’s in college and something comes over him. He decided with a couple people to make a confessional booth during the college’s biggest party rather than make a christian booth people could come to hear about Jesus at. They showed up with cigars and sat inside this little booth thinking no one would come. But, they do. The people come, totally high, or wasted, but they come.

And then, Miller apologizes. Read the rest of this entry »

We no longer say BC (Before Christ) or AD (anno Domini- in the year of our Lord) in school. We call it Before Common Era, and, Common Era. We talk about Jesus and Socrates as though they’re basically the same person (‘person’), which could be a literal quote from on instructor. We discuss choice as the proper term since free will is a noble lie, a myth, which yet again I could quote directly from an instructor. And, aside from the elections, there is no topic that comes up as often as the man who wouldn’t drive the rainbow bus, and not ever once is it in in a good way. Still. Read the rest of this entry »