WestJet Christmas Miracle

I don’t know about you, but I always get especially emotional around Christmas. The spirit of giving in is in the air, and because of it I am always overcome with incredible joy. That joy is, 9 times out of 10, expressed through tears. The act of kindness that follows is no different.

WestJet did something really spectacular this year, and showed the Christmas spirit to the passengers of two Calgary-bound flights. The video, and the reactions of the passengers, truly speaks for itself. My favourite is the lady who received a camera.

Merry Christmas, friends. Spread some cheer :)


My Favourite Christmas Tradition

It’s no mystery to anyone who knows me that I love Christmas. I put up the tree on November 12th. I listen to Christmas music year round. I make meals out of Gingerbread Oreos, partly because I have to enjoy them while I can and partly because it’s finals. I am not ashamed to say that Elf is my favourite movie. No, not my favourite Christmas movie. My favourite movie. Period.

With all of my love for Christmas type things, my favourite tradition is going to Stuart McLean’s Vinyl Cafe Christmas. I have a love for all things Canadian, as well as all things Christmas. New and old stories of Dave and Morley, Stuart McLean’s perfect narrative voice, and festive music by a Canadian band that is showcased. Does it get any better?

Last night was the 2013 edition of my favourite tradition. Usually, it’s just mom and me. Last night we brought along Curtis and my dad. The boys loved it – as I thought they would, and really, how can you not?


Stuart read some great new stories, two of which focused largely on Mary Turlington (my favourite character). I was over the moon with Christmas spirit. The Good Lovelies, a great Canadian band who recently won a Juno for best Roots/Traditional Album of the year, were a great complement to the Vinyl Cafe stories. Check out one of their Christmas songs here:

Last night was the perfect break that I needed headed into finals week. A little Christmas cheer goes a long way.

Merry Christmas, friends :)


Fiction Is Greater Than Reality

I watch a lot of TV. I have shows that I am so dedicated to and so in love with. And when a really great show ends, I feel pretty intense sadness – considering it is only a TV show.

I’m fairly certain that I cry more over fiction – books, movies, TV – than I do over real life. I become so invested in the lives of the characters and feel so much emotion for the created worlds that I experience on the page or the screen. If you were to break it down to numbers – and numbys and math are so not my thing – but it wouldn’t be outlandish to say that I cry during 80% of the books, movies, or shows that I read/watch. I most certainly do not cry over 80% of the things that happen in my life.


Tell me that didn’t make your heart break.

I’m not sure what this abundance of emotion for fiction and lack of in reality says about me. Perhaps it is my apathetic, status quo nature. I just go along, coming to terms with things I don’t like and can’t change, and making the best of it along the way. In consequence, I lead a fairly average life. Planned and predictable. Spontaneity was never really my thing – re: my anxiety. But I’m happy with it, and I wouldn’t have it any other way.

I suppose that could be why I become so invested in these fictional characters and their spectacular, glamorous lives. I am too afraid to become emotionally invested in anything in reality, so I throw my emotions at fictional characters. Reading and watching allows me to take risks that I never would dream of in real life.

But to be honest, I’m okay with that. I live for the romanticized plots. For the extreme displays of emotion that just don’t happen in real life – at least not mine. But that’s okay. I’ll always be able to turn to moments like these.

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As I Sit Here Freezing,

The heat in my apartment has gone out. Again. For the past two days my roommate and I have been either driven out of the house to warmer locales, or stuck in our beds at home attempting to maintain our body temps.

As frustrating as this is, I have a lot of things to be grateful for. Sometimes, when you think everything is awful, you just need to remind yourself of everything that is not. I need that right now. Follows is a short list of things that I am thankful for, especially in this cold. I will keep it brief so that I can crawl back under my covers as soon as I can.

  • Covers, to crawl back under
  • Hot water (Yes, I do have this again)
  • Tea, to warm me up
  • An apartment, with or without heat
  • My lovely boyfriend/spaceheater
  • A car, that I can use to drive somewhere warmer
  • My parents, who harass my negligent landlords to fix things
  • My parents again, for being amazing
  • Soup, to warm me up and provide comfort

I would expand more, as I am thankful for so so much, but I cannot feel my fingers. Oh, to be Canadian in the winter. Oh, I’m grateful for mittens :)

The Little Things – Or Big – That Keep Me Motivated

Well, finals are among us. Another semester come to a close, and it’s gone by so fast. They all do. Now that I am over half-way through my degree, I can see a light at the end of the tunnel. It’s a little one, but if I put on my glasses, squint, and tilt my head just the right way I can see it.

As I sit here at work – yes, I’m at work, but I can explain – I am lacking the drive to study or to finish my final paper that is due tomorrow. Instead, I’m listening to Christmas music and drinking copious amounts of coffee. I’m going to need all that caffeine in my system as I stay awake all night doing the things that I really should be doing right now. But, such is university life sometimes.

I am often plagued with the little voice in the back of my head while I’m studying or writing,

“What is this even for? What is the point of finishing this assignment? What on earth am I doing with my life? How is this paper going to help me in five years?”

Truth be told, it probably won’t help me. My archaeology lab test isn’t going to come in handy in my life. I may eat my words and head an excavation someday, but I doubt that. All the communication theorists and papers on social media in politics and unconscious motivations of dialect code-switching are wearing me down.

Let me clarify, I in no way think that the core work of my degree is useless. Quite the opposite. But you see, that nasty little voice in my head that feeds off of procrastination and failure likes to try to make me think so. It’s hard for me to stay motivated when the reward is long-term.

Usually, when I write a paper, I make word count marks for myself to hit and reward myself. More often than not, I like to reward myself with ice cream. Or an episode of 30 Rock. In those moments, it’s the little things that keep me going.

This semester seems like it has been especially difficult, though. It has taken quite the toll on me. I have set higher expectations for myself, and pushed myself to the limits to achieve them. It’s times like these, at work, that I see the bright future that I can achieve if I just keep trucking along.

Forgive me for the materialistic stance I am about to take, but I like pretty things. And working in a showhome on a quiet night by myself gives me a little bit of a chance to play house. I look around and can think that maybe this is what I will come home to, not visit three times a week. Granted, any home of mine will not be decorated as nicely, or as clean, but it’s something. A little addition to that light at the end of a very long tunnel. A hope that I will not be in my little basement suite forever. That I will be able to move on to bigger and better things.

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The Beginning

I am terrible. A procrastinator extraordinare.

What should I be doing right now? Studying for finals, writing my final term paper, and a myriad of other academic type things. Instead of checking items off of my massive to-do list, I am creating this blog.

I found that this semester I didn’t take enough time to write for myself. I was so focused on tests and assignments and my GPA and LSAT prep and the like that I sort of lost track of what I really wanted. I was running full speed ahead down a path with my blinders on, and when I finally stopped to take a breath I looked around and didn’t even know where I was anymore.

I was having a quarter-life crisis.

Here I was. 20 years old. Over half-way through a degree, with no clear picture of my future after it. I knew what I wanted that future to resemble. Or did I?

Of course I did. By the time I turn 30, I would be a lawyer, living in the suburbs, married, with one child and a golden retriever. I would be driving the latest Mustang. Everything would be perfect.

No no no. This isn’t my dream. This is the dream that others have created for me. A picture of the ideal that was placed in my mind by someone else. I realized that I have never taken the time to sit down and actually think about what I want with my life.

And thus, the creation of this blog.

I’ve always been inclined to the written word. Thoughts flow much better from my fingertips than from my lips. I am far too emotional to express myself well in a spoken form. Things always seem so much more logical on paper – er, or on screen. Regardless of the medium, it is my hope that I will be able to find some kind of clarity through expression.

Here’s to self-discovery. Here’s to the beginning.