Consumed

It’s amazing, this love.
On the International Day of Happiness, I certainly have a lot to be happy about…

The connection I have with Jordan continues to amaze me. The conversations we fall into about our feelings for one another never cease to touch my heart. We often wonder: do other people have this connection like us? Will it fade as time progresses? Or will it continue to become more powerful as it has shown itself to do over each month?

Sometimes I see videos on the internet of old couples who are so dedicated to their partner and they still have a light in their eyes when they talk to someone about their lover, and still show such pride and appreciation for the person in their lives. I am sure this will be us. Without a doubt, I know it will be. The connection is too real, was too instantaneous, and to authentic and honest to be anything other than this over-powering experience of pure bliss.

It is honestly difficult for me to remember a life before Jordan was in it. I don’t know that girl anymore. I have no recollection of living a life without him. He has consumed me with his endless love, his unwavering support, his pride in me, the laughs he brings to my life, and the excitement he floods me with when it comes to thinking about my future with him.

And one would think the long distance would be hard – and yes, some days when I could just use his arms wrapped around me, they are hard – but it’s just so simple, so natural. No thoughts sway from him. No others catch my eye. No sense of distance exists. No lack of trust, jealousy, or insecurity even touches my heart. I believe in us fully and completely and our constant communication, video chats, and moments of word-affections fill me in the time we are apart. It is like he is constantly with me; I carry him in my heart. It sounds so corny but it is so true!

And yet, simultaneously there is an emptiness we both feel when we are not together. There is a sense of strength knowing we have each other and love each other and the intensity of our love can overcome the distance, but at the same time there is an incomplete feeling that is completely cured when we are together. And we don’t have to be doing anything! The moments I value the most are those minutes after waking up, sharing a coffee, sharing morning affection, and making small talk. Or the moments before bed where we have our arms wrapped around one another and are shaking from laughter, diving into the most intellectually stimulating and passionate conversation, and then just slow down, quiet down, and fall asleep with our heads resting against one another. It is pure magic. It is so comfortable, natural, authentic… it is like we were created to be beside one another.

He tells me he always dreamed he would have a “wife” like me but I tell him I didn’t believe anyone like him existed. I could see myself alone forever and I was okay with that. I was done settling for mediocrity, I was finished with being in unhappy relationships with people got on my nerves more than they made me laugh, where drama was rampant and tensions were always high. All connections I have made had a negative, had something that stood in the way, felt incomplete. I saw romantic comedies and read romantic novels but didn’t believe that could be real life, until life brought me Jordan.

He says I have transformed him more in the past four months than anyone could ever achieve in the last four years. The things he tells me, the way he talks about me to others, I have never had a man show this much appreciation, respect, and adoration for my existence in their life. He consistently makes me feel valued. He continuously tells me how proud he is of me. He always makes me feel wanted and important to him. It is such a beautiful, confidence-boosting, happy feeling to be this loved and respected by a person you adore. I feel so lucky to know he feels this way about me. I feel so blessed to be loved by him.

And now, after another week together, we will have more time apart as we figure the next steps. Plans have changed. Career directions for the both of us have as well. It’s just a matter of powering through the next month (or two, or three) until we begin to build that home together. And I cannot wait to see where life takes us!

I always said my heart was in Paris. I didn’t realize how precise this statement could be! The Universe has a funny way of doing things… I am so grateful.

xo
C

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Musings at the End of 2018

Hey there,

Here are a collection of thoughts, unorganized, random, about all things and nothing at all.


Why do people have ‘New Year Resolutions’? Are people not aware that time is a concept invented by human beings and that the idea that there is a beginning and an end to a year is completely constructed by human beings? Why does “new year, new me,” exist? Why do people not work on making themselves a better version of who they were the day prior on every day of the year? Why does it take a concept like “the beginning of a year” to encourage people to make a change in their lives? I am so perplexed by this idea.

I do not have new year resolutions because, firstly, I know I will not hold to them, so I have no desire to advertise them to the masses (via social media). Secondly, I am consistently working towards being a better me than I was the day before, so the abstract concept of ‘new year’ does not improve who I am by any means.

But the weird part is how people define an improved self: by the way they physically look. A new year resolution most often includes time at the gym – this is why gyms see an increase in sales in January.  You can be a shitty human being but, hey, if you work out starting January 1st, you’re suddenly a better person! It’s complete;y absurd. Most ‘new year’ goals include physical goals but have nothing or little to do with developing your soul and developing who you are as an emotional, mental, functioning human being. Which is absolutely hilarious to me because so many people in my age group are very physically fit and attractive people but have put absolutely no work into the mental and emotional development of themselves and are, therefore, not functional partners. Plain and simple.

This idea of time is not meant to limit you but meant to drive you. And I am most concerned when people see time as a limiting factor – like, OH! I didn’t get anything done in 2018, what a waste! Human existence is immensely short, but I do not view years as wasted time but merely development towards where I’m meant to be.

Truthfully, though, it is without question that 2018 was the very best year of my life. Not only did I live out my dream of calling Paris home and living and working there (in one of my most favourite districts, no less), but I also found my soulmate – a completely unexpected piece of the twenty-eighteen puzzle that brought a new sense of purpose and passion to my life. But, again, this year is a human developed concept and I am just grateful to have lived out my dream and found my dream man in the process of it all. It could have been any year of my life, but it happened to be in my 30th rotation around the sun.

But my biggest curiosity lies with why people suddenly feel guilty about the lives they’re living in January. Why does January suddenly make people feel as though they aren’t living the very best lives for themselves? Why does this ‘start of the year’ idea push people into work-out mode and have them spending money where money need not be spent? It breaks my heart knowing people are so sold into ideals by time, that people are so controlled by these abstract definitions of expectation. I just get infuriated by the expectation pushed upon people around this time of year, especially via social media. I think that become a better version of you shouldn’t be defined by a date in time.

I said that already, didn’t I? I’m wasting your time.


I find it quite odd that I am an individual who likes to get away, run away, disappear, and all other terms which follow the same definition suit, and yet I spent so many hours of my life invested in Social Media and displaying every corner of my life to those who want to have a look.

And so I decided to make a temporary disappearance in the Social Media sphere by signing out of and deleting the apps of both my Facebook account and the personal Instagram account that I run.

We all know the cliche, “Live in the moment,” and yet our minds are also conflicted by the existence of yet another cliche, “A picture is worth a thousand words.” And so we are in this eternal battle brought upon us by social media: do you, A. live in the moment and put down the phone, or B. take that photo that supposedly speaks a thousand words and post that bad boy all over social media to create a manufactured dialogue with the masses who may stumble upon it?

And so social media caters to two very specific emotions felt by our lizard brain: the ego, and the guilt (that’s a part of the lizard brain, right? Or is it just the emotion dug into the souls of the youth of European and/or Jewish parents?).

If we post that picture, the likes, comments, or even just “impressions” (to the dinosaurs out there, that means the number of times it’s physically appeared on a screen) trigger in humans (I was going to use ‘us’ but I don’t want to associate with the ‘nous’ of that crowd) instant gratification, instant dopamine and serotonin delivery to your brain, and the same high that you could get from cocaine (they say). But then we are faced with the emotion that follows afterward; guilt at the judgment we may face for not living in the moment, and/or at manufacturing an inauthentic version of our otherwise unhappy lives, and/or for feeling addicted to your phone. We’ve got a win-lose in this situation.

Yet, if we look at the option of not posting that picture you just took of the meal you’re eating all over social media, we are faced with not getting the rush of the ego, but also not feeling the guilt. But if you pay attention, if you savour moments, if you appreciate the company of those closest to you without worrying about how they may look in your feed, if you capture memories and hold them in your heart, a different need is met: gratitude. And that need is not a part of our evolutionarily inferior lizard brain, either.

Gratitude is so immensely powerful because it literally consumes all aspects of your life and overpowers every other emotion. Gratitude doesn’t cause any negative emotions to arise in you. Gratitude can be passed onto others when it’s displayed in person (online, it happens to appear a bit phony) and brighten those lives just as it brightened your own. All self-help books speak to gratitude. All “keynote speakers” at random health/hippie/marijuana conferences say that gratitude will change your life. Everyone believes a bit of gratitude for what you have brings happiness into your life that allows you to forget about what you don’t have.

So, basically, I don’t see the loss in excluding social media from your experiences. I’m already reaping the gratitude rewards of stepping back from social media… and I’m grateful for that.


I always used to say that I would volunteer for that Mars program. Truthfully, I would volunteer for any space program, even if they told me there would be a guarantee that I wouldn’t survive the event. I just love space, I love the sky, I love planets, and nebulas, and constellations, and the potential existence of other lives. And so I would say that I absolutely volunteer and put my life on the line for it. And I don’t feel my opinion has changed on that topic. Which is odd because a lot of people used to comment, “yeah, but what about your boyfriend,” and I would shrug and say I didn’t care (because, in all honesty, an opportunity to get far, far away from them and escape the hell without breaking hearts would be a dream come true).

But now I actually, deeply, selflessly care about my boyfriend. I actually care about someone else (more than myself) and it puts this weird knot in my stomach that makes me feel both excitable and terribly uncomfortable. Uncomfortable because it’s unfamiliar and a little bit scary. But anyway, I’d still go to space but for a different reason: knowing that my boyfriend respects my dreams and encourages me to follow them without any hesitation, knowing that I’ve experienced what authentic, honest love was for at least a smidgen of my life, and knowing I’d see him at the launch cheering and telling people around him that that’s his girlfriend, the astronaut, would be reason to make me give this fantasy a shot. But it’s for those very same reasons that I’d decline the offer to go to space.

It’s totally weird what an absolutely stellar, nebula of a human being can do to your decision making process. I want to live, and wander, and explore, and be free, and get wild, but I want to do it with someone else now, and I want to make sure the experiences are able to be had without the exclusion of my boyfriend (like that solo space flight nonsense from before).

How is it that I feel even freer (I prefer ‘more free’) being a part of his world than I did when I was (status-wise) free, prior? How is it that my partner in crime subsequently encourages a spirit of independence and self-exploration in me?

Is being truly free when you have finally found someone in life who inserts themselves into your bubble of existence while also just blowing it up a little bigger to help it float a little farther, a little wilder? Are you only truly free when you’ve found the most authentic kind of love?

Love (or lovers) is referred to as ‘ball and chain’ but maybe soulmates are the ones who actually break all your chains and set you free to be the most authentic and happy version of yourself. Or they help tear down the walls of your self-made prison for you so you can experience even a small glimmer of happiness.

Does being truly free mean finding someone who puts your happiness before their own? Is freedom co-dependent on another person? Is that the irony in freedom?! Do you need another person to be free? Your soul mate? – That’s it, I’m Googling the etymology of the word ‘freedom’ and ‘free’ … OH MY GOD MY MIND HAS BEEN BLOWN. 

First, the generic etymological definition is as follows but let me bold the important part:

Old English freodom “power of self-determination, state of free will; emancipation from slavery, deliverance;””

That is literally a definition of freedom that has the requirement of needing another person for it to be a working definition.

But let’s get to the real weird part, and, again, let me bold the important parts… Here is the etymology of free:

“Old English freo “exempt from; not in bondage, acting of one’s own will,” also “noble; joyful,” from Proto-Germanic *friaz “beloved; not in bondage” (source also of Old Frisian fri, Old Saxon vri, Old High German vri, German frei, Dutch vrij, Gothic freis “free”), from PIE *priy-a- “dear, beloved,” from root *pri- “to love.”

The sense evolution from “to love” to “free” is perhaps from the terms “beloved” or “friend” being applied to the free members of one’s clan (as opposed to slaves; compare Latin liberi, meaning both “free persons” and “children of a family”). For the older sense in Germanic, compare Gothic frijon “to love;” Old English freod “affection, friendship, peace,” friga “love,” friðu “peace;” Old Norse friðr “peace, personal security; love, friendship,” German Friede “peace;” Old English freo “wife;” Old Norse Frigg, name of the wife of Odin, literally “beloved” or “loving;” Middle Low German vrien “to take to wife,” Dutch vrijen, German freien “to woo.” “

The etymology of the word free comes from the freaking word BELOVED. BE-FREAKING-LOVED. BE LOVED. TO BE-LOVED. TO BE LOVED SETS YOU FREAKING FREE – WHAT THE HELL ARE THE CHANCES.

Alright, thanks universe. It’s clear there is irony in the word free. It’s quite freaking clear that you do need the absolute authentic love of another person (that good ol’ soul mate) to truly be free.

And the other ironic part is that there is something kind of freeing about knowing you don’t have to worry about achieving your own freedom…


In 1995, I received the album, ‘The Garden’ by Merril Bainbridge and I would listen to it on repeat and sing along to the songs endlessly. In 1995 I was 7 years old. And now, I have stumbled upon the album again and played it from the beginning. It starts with this song:

https://youtu.be/p4wioPn8j0s

I was singing along as though I had just heard the album yesterday:

There’s a garden in my room

Would you like to take a look?

There are fascinating things you’ll find there

And if you dare to come inside

There is nothing I will hide

Come where there is sweet perfume

In the garden in my room

There’s a garden in my room

Would you like to take a look?

Rest your body on my velvet roses

Once you’ve tasted my delights

Many days will turn to nights

There is nothing you won’t do

For the garden in my room

Even as a child I was a writer. And I wanted to write poems and novels and short stories that would captivate my audience, that would siren song them into this abyss from which they would never escape. A black hole of linguistic pleasures that would have them falling in love with me and driven into madness.

This song stuck with me as a kid. I understood the sexual undertones because I was not a fool, but it stuck with me because I saw my writing as The Garden in my Room. I wanted to pull people in. I wanted them to taste my literary delights and lose themselves in the pleasure of words. 

But my words need not be soaked in the raw fantasies of carnal desires to have this same pull. I understand that now. I can write and pull in like a fisherman does with a hook, and trap and capture (and captivate) with any piece I compose that is, as Hemingway says, written in blood. My blood is my spirit. And my spirit is the authenticity I put into every single letter I type onto this page.

My writing is my siren song.

How many will I drown with it?

And why does that bring such a large smile to my face?


I think my greatest feature is my self-confidence. It’s humble but speaks to my gratitude that I was raised in a family that values education, that stressed the importance of self-worth, that pushed their kids to be hard workers and achieve milestones for themselves while also knowing the value of dreams and keeping them alive. My self-confidence in the woman I am today is due, in large part, to my upbringing. I recognize that, and I am grateful for that. My immense strength is my own, and my bravery is also my own, because even my parents said they would never do many of the things that I’ve done for myself in the past 30 years (buy a place on my own, bring my assailant to court, move overseas, etc). But who I have been shaped into, whether by my own whittling or the whittling of those who love me, makes me feel immensely proud to be who I am. I am a black sheep who is simply using the black to cloak the rainbow beneath it all…


An intelligent woman is a threat to everyone around her but is the biggest threat to herself. The anxiety I cause myself by over-analyzing, by my brain running a mile a minute as it processes every single scenario of every word and every action, is freaking exhausting. The conflict of intuition faced with logic and the right-brain venture in day-dreaming is too complex for a mere human to handle.

I am my own worst enemy sometimes.


I hope that when I die, someone who loves me takes everything I’ve ever written and compiles it into the book I never had the god-damn guts to create and shares with the world what I hid behind curtains of insecurity.

I am my own worst enemy sometimes.

Did I say that already?


I don’t write to be famous, to make money, to have my name plastered on people’s lips. I write to get out what is boiling inside of me before the pot overflows and I’m left a mess. I write with the intention that something may resonate for just one person and that that sentiment gets carried on, no matter whether it’s shared with my name attached to it or not. If it lives on, I still live on. A writer never dies. And, as Hemingway once said, those who a writer loves also never dies. Which is logical when it is my muse who drives me to write, the very most.


My inability to write a novel stems from the fact that I have an idea inside me that, if not released immediately (as my short blurbs and poems and ideas often are), quickly becomes a bore to me and the more I look at it and analyze it (like the crazy insecure writer I am), the most stupid it sounds to me. So I scrap it. If I don’t have completion in my writing immediately, it loses its zest. I really start to hate it.

I would write a novel about my life – as Hemingway used to do – but the intimacy of that is too fragile for me. That’s not a place I want many people to traverse. I am not that transparent a person. I do not trust people enough to let them walk along my life with me.

This is the reason I have been known as a lone wolf for most of my life (even while in a relationship with others). I am guarded.

This obviously fails to apply in my current relationship. Which is this weird and fucked up and crazy (and amazing) experience in and of itself. A lone wolf who finds a pack mate needs to learn how to adapt. I am always learning. I dreamt of finding this; I don’t intend on fucking it up.


I hope to endlessly encourage independence, dream-following, and driven behaviour in those who surround me. I hope anyone who knows and loves me understands that I selflessly offer my existence as a way for them to be their very best selves. I do not want anything less for those most important to me in my life. I don’t ever want to be a road-block on a path to success, to someone living their best life. I want to be the sail that brings the boat closer to that shore, not the storm who stops the journey.

If you truly know me, you know that that’s all I want for you. I will never stand in your way of that. Even if it means you must let me go.


I am so in love.

That is the extent of this declaration.

It is nauseating how badly I want to build a life with this wild human being I call my ‘boyfriend’.

Claudia from 5 years ago would laugh at herself.

Oh, and wild is the best definition for my man. It’s like a mirror of myself. The universe is teaching me a lesson. “Want to see what it’s like to really love yourself? Here, you, in another body. Enjoy the experience!” What a riot!


My eternal conflict as a bibliophile is always as such: read every single book in my ‘to be read’ pile at the same time, finally read that book everyone has been talking about (but often the most talked about books are the most mundane to me which sounds so fucking pretentious but I find the loudest screams come on the most silent of whispers), re-read one of your many favourites, or just feel so overwhelmed that you don’t touch any of the books in the pile, at all, and stare at them with longing eyes, instead.

I don’t know where I currently stand.


How little value we humans place on truth, spending our time more thoroughly invested in obtaining wealth, obtaining women, obtaining fame, obtaining highs, etc etc. And yet truth is the factor that brings satisfaction for eternity because truth underlies all wisdom, all relationships, all long-standing success, all things. Why is truth so damn unimportant to human beings? People used to die for truth. What the hell happened?

Nietzsche would be appalled at this universe and the people in it. Just as I am.

Though Nietzsche would have a lot to say about a woman on a quest for truth, but that’s another story for another day.


There are behaviours that people reveal to those they grow close to as time presents itself, and many are simply behaviours I do not have the time to tolerate. The easiest way to watch me slowly drift out of your life is to show me those true and ugly colours of yourself. I don’t have time for ugliness when my life has been far too beautiful.

I have watched 30 years of my life go by, I will not waste 30 seconds more on people who do not deserve me or my time. Let that be a lesson to those in my life – I will vanish as quickly as I appeared if I need to.

They say it’s bravest to cut off a rotting limb, no matter the pain you will put yourself through to do it. I will cut every limb from my life if I have to. I do not have time to cajole rotting flesh. I love myself too much for that. I don’t have time to waste anymore. I will not let the rot reach my bloodstream.

If you read this and think you might be a rotting limb in someone’s life, heal yourself quickly if you wish to save your relationship with that person. Rot away if they are meaningless to you. If they value themselves, you’ll be cut out of their lives quick enough anyway.


I wish I could let go as quickly as I claim I do in my writing.

I am my own fool.


This was circled in one of my Nietzsche books that I found in storage:

“Whenever you reach a decision, close your ears to even the best objections: this is the sign if a strong character. Which means: an occasional will to stupidity.”

I seem to have lived by that rule.

Well, at least now I know why I am the way I am.


Since the love of my life arrives in three sleeps, I am finally making public a blog post I wrote about him five days after meeting him:

I’ve changed my mind. I don’t want to go back to Canada. I’ve found home in Paris. I’ve found my home in a set of brown eyes as deep as the Pacific ocean. I’ve found home in skin that, when pressed up against my own, floods me with warmth and comfort. I’ve found home in a soothing, sexy voice that never fails to get me thinking and exploring my own ideas, that has me blushing with endless compliments and words of affection. I’ve found my home when I run my fingers through his hair. I’ve found my home when I kiss his face and feel overwhelmed with emotion; emotions that scream, “this is it,” and, “better half,” and, “don’t let go.” I’ve found my home in his vulnerability, in his beautiful laugh that makes his eyes squint and his bright smile show. I’ve found my home in words like “mignon,” and “mon petite bebe”. I’ve found a home in a man named Jordan Alzraa, and my soul knew if from the moment I met him. It was the eyes. My eyes knew his eyes. Like the patterns in our irises found their alignment and passion ignited immediately. Like every angel in my life screamed, “THIS IS WHO WE HAVE BEEN GUIDING YOU TO!!” as soon as our cheeks touched in greeting.

And believe me, I am aware that this sounds insane. I am aware that people could read this or hear this and roll their eyes at the speed at which I am declaring my admiration for this person. But I have never spoken with greater certainty or clarity. I know in my heart that this man is my soul-mate; the person with which, as the Greek philosophers said, was separated from me in creation, tossed across the ocean and waiting for me to find him. And ask anyone who knows me – they will tell you I didn’t come here searching for anyone except myself. But somehow, the universe aligned and we arrived in one another’s lives, and it’s game over. It’s done. I have met my (beautiful) doom. And I accept my fate. Because if my fate allows me additional moments with this man, then I will take all I can get.

I have known him for five days and feel as though I’ve known him for a lifetime. I have discovered more about this man in five days than past partners have revealed to me in years. And there are no rose coloured glasses here; but everything from his past has brought him to me, here, in this moment, as he is. And for that, I am eternally grateful. Because this man, in this moment with me, is better than anything I could have ever hoped for in a partner.

He is beautiful, inside and out. His eyes are expressive and warm and loving and safe. I feel protected when wrapped up in his arms. It feels natural falling asleep next to him. I love the way he smells. I love that our mindsets about life and living line up, but we have different interests to share with one another. I love listening to him speak. I love when he speaks English with his gorgeous accent. I adore when he speaks French; he looks more confident and comfortable when speaking his native tongue. It brings a smile to my face. I also love his smile; it radiates. And I love how thoughtful and honest he is. I love his authenticity. I love that he is real with me and I love that he knows he can be real with me. I love when his fingers interlock with mine. I love our chemistry and comfort level. I love that our moments are always sprinkled with periods of intense discussion, confession, and giggling. I love that in such a short period of time, this man already inspires me to be the best, most authentic version of myself, and to continue driving myself towards a life well-lived. I love who I am when I am with him, and I love who I am when I am not; still independent, still free, still living my life as I need to live it. But now, like a river flows through a city, this new sense of drive flows through me, I am continuously moved by a sense of divine purpose, comfort, and joy when I think of him, of us.

I have read that you know it’s your soulmate when everything falls into place instantaneously, but you are also met with challenges by the universe, as though life is testing to see who will cave first and give up an opportunity at being with the person you’re meant to be with. And we will have our own: I am going back to Canada, he is going to South Africa. But this is just a blip in the big picture. I am frustrated but unconcerned. Because now I have felt what it means to find “The One” and I’m not willing to just toss it away or move onwards without him in my life. I simply can’t. I have tasted him and now I wish to be drunk on him for eternity. I no longer can imagine a life without him in it, a bed without him next to me, a hand intertwined with any other fingers, my lips against the lips of any other… I simply can’t.

Ask anyone who I was before all this and they will tell you who I was when I first dated someone; I still would talk about others, look at others, indulge the ideas of others. But no; I was exclusively his as soon as our eyes met over conversation. I am blinded by the sun that is he. No option exists but him. This is bliss, this is truth, this is real. I need nothing else in this life as much as I need him beside me. Journeying together, adventuring together, growing together, seeing success together, holding each other through failures, keeping one another endlessly warm. In every fantasy I have of my future, there he is now sprinkled. He exists, and to know he exists and I have had him as a part of my life, means I cannot experience my own existence in any other manner. It just won’t do.

He is a nebula bursting within me. An explosion of purpose that I never expected or imagined. He is someone I couldn’t have even invented in my own mind. He is the living example of who I want to grow old with. Our connection is indescribable and unlike anything I’ve ever experienced. He is home. He is home. My home is when I am with him, and no other place will do, for he is home.

I always said I was excited about finding where to truly set roots down in my life because I am a lone wolf and a wanderer and an explorer and an endlessly curious dreamer. But now I know that the only roots I wish to bury deep are those that will be watered by his presence.

Don’t ask me how I know this after five days. But the universe has spoken, it has whispered to my heart, and I’m one to f-cking listen when she speaks.

my whole life got me ready for you


If you read this long, you deserve an award.

Happy New Year.

xo

C

Thoughts on a Plane

-written on the plane-

Hemingway once said: “Write hard and clear about what hurts,” and the pain I am feeling surpasses the definition given by written words. So let me be quite clear: this sucks. This fucking sucks. To know this raw, authentic, best friend, soulmate love, only to have the universe throw thousands of miles between us is a cruel, cruel joke. And I am not laughing. I am mad. And you know what I do when I’m mad? I destroy. I bravely face and overcome the challenge with unrelenting strength. And I prove to the problem that they are nothing in comparison to me.

The world is a lot smaller than it seems and for me to have traversed the ocean just to find my perfect match, my puzzle piece, my soul-mate, and best friend is complete magic. And it’s not something I will risk losing. This is not a passing or fleeting feeling. This is true. And a truer passion I have yet to experience.

He drives me to be better. He drives me to succeed. He drives me to be compassionate without expectation. He makes me laugh, especially when I need to laugh the most. He holds me and the world disappears. Our conversations expand my mind. He makes me feel beautiful. He makes me feel desired. He makes me feel truly loved and does so many little things to express this to me. How lucky am I?

I’m having heart palpitations as I write this and I worry that it’s because my body is manifesting my internal pain in physical ways. I need to sleep for a bit. I want to cry. Again.

–[slept on plane]–

I woke up. I had two beers. I cried. I slept again. I woke up. I cried.

6284 km between us.

I know we need to figure shit out. I know we need to do that independently to succeed. I know we will come back together when the time is right for us to work out. We met at a time when both of us needed it without realizing we needed it. It will continue in the same way.

He came in like a storm wind and he shook me right up. He’s left me changed. He’s imprinted on my soul and I can no longer let him go. I have seen his soul and I can no longer look away – it shines too bright, pulls me in like a moth to the flame. Like his eyes: they have a fire that I will willingly let burn me alive. What a beautiful way to die.

I am sure we have spent other lifetimes together. How else could someone know me so thoroughly in so little time? How else would I be so innately aware of his likes, dislikes, pains, needs?

It’s so interesting because we are the same person, like two wild children, best friends with the same mindset and goals. And yet all our differences also bring a perfect balance to each other’s lives. We are truly a perfect match.

But above all, our compatibility soars with our wanderlust hearts. We both want to find “home” – we both have no attachment to a certain place, and we are willing to explore and discover what’s best for us (independently and then together). But one thing has changed for me now: home is a person. Jordan Alzraa is home. “I have been shot down by love: you’ve got my heart now.”

It’s truly frustrating that this stubborn and strong person (me) is now completely hopeless and helpless against her feelings for one man who came into her life by chance. “No reason in getting attached, no?” –  I said this before we met. LAUGHABLE statement! The morning after we met I was texting friends, “Well, I am doomed.”

And what a glorious doom, what a magical destruction this past month has been. It’s so insane for me to say, “One month,” out loud when I swear I’ve known him all my life. I am happier having my best friend, Jordan, in my life. I have a teammate now. I have a partner ready to take on the world with me. I can’t fucking wait for the battle. I can’t wait to storm the field with this man.

But right now, I just need to share a bed with him again. Tonight will be hard.

Now my only concern is that I am not living in a town/area that makes random meetups with friends very convenient and I worry I may isolate myself in my sadness.

F*ck — the tears come in waves. And I am drowning. It hurts, it hurts, it hurts.

I am putting on ‘Flight of the Conchords’ on my plane television in an attempt to laugh. J was always good at getting me to laugh when I was down…

xo
C

Day 101 – Departure

Hey there,

I leave in three days.

This is such a bizarre sentence to write because it honestly feels – with no exaggeration – that just yesterday I was writing about my third day here. Where did 104 days go? It seems as though I blinked and they vanished. It’s truly hard to believe all that I did in the time I was here and it’s truly hard to comprehend how I will have to let go of Paris.

I am only human – I said I was ready and I said I was prepared for moving onwards to my next adventure (and I truly am! I am always eager to see where life takes me) but it’s only now as I wind down the days that I look around me completely taken aback by the fact that I will not be walking these streets anymore and I will not be riding this metro anymore and I will not be strolling over cobblestones, hand in hand with my partner anymore. There is magic in this city. There is inspiration everywhere you look. There is a great big sigh that seems to resonate through every street. And I fear going back home and not feeling that same sense of wonderment and happiness that I felt while I was here.

But I need to be reasonable: if I want to stay in this city, I need to find work that doesn’t just pay my food bills but allows me to live. And, yes, success in this city is difficult. But that depends on how you measure success, of course. Blah, I’m rambling. I’m just lamenting the loss that I will be faced with in three days. THREE DAYS. Where did time go? Did I say that already? Three days! I am so conflicted with what I am feeling in my heart. I am ready to move on. I am not ready to move on. I am excited to see my family and my animals. I am sad to leave my lover. I have loved Paris. But have I truly loved her the way I had hoped? Bring on the next adventure! But am I ready for it? And what will it entail? Where will I call home?

And the problem is that I’ve fallen in love (not really a problem, but you understand the conflict it presents). If you know me, you know I don’t revolve my life around other people. I’m pretty selfish like that. I don’t let relationships stop me from moving forward with where I need to be or what dreams I will follow. But, alas, this one is different. He is not stopping me but he is presenting me with a new perspective: what it means to make decisions in your life with another person in mind. Compromise; is that the word?

This is my honest to goodness soulmate. The only time I have been so sure about something was in my persistence that I needed to move to Paris and live here in order to be happy (I was right). I am just as sure about this as I am sure that Paris was meant to be a part of my life (and perhaps her role in my life is not fully actualized, I’m not sure – it doesn’t really feel as though it is).

It is weird to me to think about the fact that I will no longer be telling people, “I live in Paris,” but, “I lived in Paris.” It seems like such a minor adjustment on a sentence but you don’t understand the way it makes my heart ache. Just writing those sentences made me distort my face in discomfort. It’s not a pleasurable feeling by any means. But, listen: I found myself in France, without question. I discovered so much about myself in such a short amount of time. I actualized my dream of living in Paris, realized my purpose in life (to write) and I lived a life of true independence and adventure and I found my freaking soulmate. Who can say they’ve accomplished all that in their lifetime, let alone in 104 days? My thirtieth rotation around the sun was the most magical I’ve ever experienced.

I already miss Parisian breakfasts. I already miss French butter (seriously, there’s nothing like it). I already miss the blue rooftops. I already miss strolls by the Seine. I already miss the smelly (but convenient!) Parisian metro. I already miss the magical late night walks in this historic city. I already miss the drinks and dinners on the warm terraces, people watching and staring off at historic buildings. I already miss the silly French behaviours. I already miss the smell of Paris in the morning and the smell of Paris after a rain. I already miss my cube of an apartment. I already miss my partner’s more spacious, homey apartment with the view of the Eiffel Tower in the distance. I already miss my fingers linked with his as we laugh down different Parisian streets. I already miss walking into old used bookshops and being greeted by old Parisians who take their bookselling jobs very seriously. I already miss the grocer greeting me when I got my nightly baguette. I already miss the smell of baguettes in the morning. I already miss the cheap cheese. I already miss the lights of the Latin Quarter and the smells of Mediterranian food that coasted down every street. I already miss the bells of Notre Dame. I already miss it all. I don’t know how I’m going to do it when all I miss about Canada are: my family (and closest friends), my animals, cheap prices, good pay.

I don’t know if Canada will be where I set my roots down, but I know it will always be home. And while it’s nice to go back home to somewhere familiar, where everyone speaks my maternal language, where I was raised and feel exceptionally comfortable, where I know exactly where to go to get what I need, and where family and friends are waiting for me, it’s still, as of right now, not where I picture myself in two years, five years, ten years… Where those roots may be set, I don’t know. But now I am no longer finding that out on my own, but with a partner. And that’s exciting to me.

Anyway, I figured I’d write a little something before my trip is up, and I imagine I’ll be in the mood to write when I return to Canada and I feel the absence of my partner or I am craving cobblestone streets and blue rooftops, but in the meantime, let me just take a moment to say that these were the best 104 days I could have asked for. And more adventure is around the corner. And I’m thrilled.

xo
C

Day 87 – L’amour

Hey there,

My time in Paris has been immensely transforming, and just when I thought I was done having my soul completely reinvigorated by all this city and living here has to offer me, the universe chooses to bless me with more, flood me with love, and show me, now, what true happiness is.
It is not destinations checked off your list, it is not visiting every building in a city and filling your phone with photographs, it’s not jumping off the top of the Alps and floating back down to the ground, but it is a human connection that transcends explanation and ultimately leaves you breathing a great sigh of relief as every atom in my body says, “Yeah, this is it.”
 
I had said that: “When I am old they will say, “I hear she lived in Paris and it changed her forever.” but I did not anticipate it to this degree. I did not imagine it might be /like this/.
 
I have 17 days left here and as time winds down, I wonder if I’ve truly let go of the city as I said I had in blog posts, prior. But, let it be known, that no second will be taken for granted, as I savour what truly matters to me in this city.
 
I thought I loved her {Paris} but oh, I did not anticipate what love she intended to show me. She is still my favourite city in all the world, but now, for reasons beyond just her beauty. 
She brought me to my muse.
xo
C