Taking the high road...alone

In my life I've always worked very hard to do things right, in the right order.

Learn how to drive with a driving school, then get my full licence.

Go to high school and then, without skipping a beat, go to university.

Take paid internships in university to ensure I don't go into too much debt from my schooling, while gaining valuable experience.

Graduate then get married.

Get married then have sex (yes, me and Jessica Simpson...).

I've recently realized, though, that in my quest to abide by my parents' and my church's, and society's rules, I've painted myself into corner.

My friends and family are scared of talking to me about what they did differently or wrong because they're afraid of what I'll think.

And on the one hand it's nice to know that I firmly live and breathe my values everyday and that they are aware of them that much.

But on the other hand, it means that I'm not approachable. Not at all.

I've had friends get divorced and not tell me. I've had siblings take months to break the news to me that they didn't wait. And I've had in-laws not want me to know what they've been up to.

And all because I might look poorly on them.

What does that really mean, though? That they respect me enough not to want to disappoint me, or does it mean that they think I'm a stuck-up kid who would judge anything that walks by?

The high road is quickly becoming a lonely place, where I don't understand and never will understand those who made diffferent decisions, and, beyond that, I'll only judge instead of listening and supporting.

The trouble is that is NOT me. I'm not that person. I'm the person that works hard to understand, to be the perfect friend.

Apparently, though, perfection has its cost too - everyone else.



My heart is so very heavy today and my head feels like sinking into a soft pillow and not waking up for a very long time. It is taking everything in me to keep working today, to stay alert, and not give in to the need for sleep and peace.

Yesterday was long, busy day and was filled with activity and chatter. It was also filled with news about a dear friend and the trouble she has been going through in her marriage.

As I look to my own marriage and I see what a blessing it is, I wish so desperately that she could feel the same way, could enjoy the same contentment, stability, and security.

I reread old love letters from my husband from before we were married, and I was reminded how sweetly we love each other, how blessed I am, and what a great thing love can be.

And then I think of her situation and am also reminded how awful love can be, ripping you apart and making you want two different things at exactly the same time.

How awful.


I don't know

Ever since I was small, I imagined myself being a mom. I've pictured what it would be like to carry a child, dreamt of what it would be like to have their heartbeat under mine, and worried over the labour part of the whole ordeal.

My husband has also dreamt of being a dad, and when we had the "Do you want children?" talk that is supposed to occur before you get married, it was a resounding "Yes!" from both of us. And then the dreaming changed, turning into "us" as parents, which, in all honesty, felt more secure than dreaming about it alone.

Now that we are married, the subject of children is all I can think about, because for the first time in my life I'm able to have children and I'm able to support them. I dream of my belly getting big, I dream of holding them, I dream of teaching them, and raising them to be good adults, and I dream about the kind of dad that my husband will be. Let me tell you - I picked a good one. He will be a fantastic dad.

Today we went for a hearing test for my husband. He has Waardenburg's Syndrome and is hearing impaired. He has absolutely no hearing in his right ear, and only partial hearing in his left. He wears a hearing aid in this left ear and this is the ear that we were testing today.

Waardenburg's Syndrome is genetic, which means he got it from his parents (we're assuming from his dad) and it means that our children have a 50% of having the same disability.

The audiologist who did the hearing test for us talked about the risks for our babies, and told us that we should look into genetic counselling before we have children.

She said that there are worse things than hearing loss as an impairment, but that any child with a disability takes an enormous amount of emotional, physical, and financial energy, and that we should make sure we know exactly what we are getting into before we embark on making our own babies.

As I sat there, questions and worries started swirling around in my heart, for that is where all my children thinking goes.

Will we be able to handle the strain, on ourselves and our bank account?

Will we be strong enough to keep our marriage alive with a disabled child?

Will we be okay enough to handle not only a child with a disability, but also a father with a disability?

Is it selfish, that despite all the risks, we still want to birth our own children?

Is it normal that my heart is already breaking for the challenges that my children will face?

Will I be a good enough mother? For any child, disabled or not?

I don't know.


You know it's time when...

You know it's time to cut your losses and find new friends, when a pal of yours shows up in a car with his girlfriend and proceeds to ask you for your opinion about certain cheating actions the girlfriend has recently done...while she is listening. And instead of getting outraged about the fact that your pal is accusing her of cheating and airing it in public, the girlfriend gets offended when her side of the story is not represented properly.

I love my neighbourhood, especially my downstairs neighbourhood.


Compact living

My husband and I have been married for almost a year now (11 months on April 21!). For that almost-year we have been living in a quintessential first apartment, complete with crappy neighbours, uncaring building owners, and all the weirdness that comes with living with a bunch of people that should never meet, yet do because they happen to live in the same building.

We are hermits in our apartment world, with some marked exceptions. We don't really associate with our neighbours, which I think stems from the fact that we don't have children and we're rarely hanging out in our apartment. We're a really busy, 20-something couple, and that is reflected in our non-relationships with our neighbours. Case in point - new people moved in directly across the hall from us, and yet we have not introduced ourselves. And since they (no clue how many) have moved in, we haven't seen or heard anything from them, which is actually a nice change, considering what we live above.

Our neighbour below us, although a complete stranger, is very well known in our apartment and in our circle of family and friends. This is because he has the distinct honour of being the worst part of our apartment life.

And that, my friends, is saying something. Because we deal with all kinds of crap living in a building that is owned by a big, impersonal, stupid company. Like water being turned off at least once a month. Like there being no hot water for days on end at least once a month. Like repairs never getting done in our apartment even though we asked for them to be completed LAST MAY. Like weird smells in the hallways that permeate into our living space, an unending tropical heat wave all winter, our names being deleted for NO reason from the list of tenants at the front buzzer, our mailbox getting broken into and vandalized, and the locks being changed on the doors without warning or the offer of new keys.

See how impressive it is that Downstairs Guy is the WORST problem and the BIGGEST thing we will NOT miss when we leave?

Because he is far more noisy than the bottle-smashing, screaming, car alarming, yappy dog yelling, big dog escaping through the balconey window cacophony that occurs outside our window EVERY night. His VERY bad taste in music (or anything that has a bass line of ANY kind) is pumped so loudly I now know the lyrics to multiple rap songs that I probably could have lived my whole life without ever acknowledging their existence.

Because his pot habit makes it impossible to ever open our windows in the summer. His enjoyment of using the outdoors as his personal ashtray gives my husband and I a whole new understanding of what "high" feels like, when not perpetuated by God, or a great song (that actually has lyrics, not just creative swearing), or a fantastic bout of you-know.

Because, with his help, we have achieved the requisite number of first apartment stories that will carry us into the rest of our adulthood.

Because when we buy our first house, we will leave him behind and NEVER look back. EVER.


Love triangle

I've seen my future.

Well, okay, I've dreamed of my future. With my eyes wide open. So maybe, I've daydreamed my future.

I am dreaming of one day becoming a novelist...and not just any novelist, but one where people buy the book I write. And like it. Without getting paid or threatened to. That is the dream.

But this is not the dream that I talk about in my interviews with potential employers. The dream I talk about is different, slightly skewed for optimum brownie points, which, as we all know, make the world of job-interviews-becoming-job-offers go round.

The professional dream that I dream out loud to potential employers is the dream of being the head of a communications department - determining when and what should be communicated. Working closely with other writers and other brilliant people to send out a coherent, effective message. That is the out loud dream.

But it isn't the dream that keeps me up at night, or fills my brain with varying sentence structures and different stories. It isn't the dream that fills my mouth when I talk to my loved ones about my dream. It isn't the dream that I whisper to my slumbering husband..."You are the husband of a brilliant novelist."

I like that I have two dreams. It makes me feel like I will never tire of writing, even though that is what I'm currently doing for a living. It makes me feel like I have a barrier between the two, and they will never affect each other or cross over.

Inevitably, though, this barrier is only in my mind, and not in reality. And at some point I will hang up one of those dreams, possibly for the other. For like every other love triangle, eventually someone gets fed up with the arrangement, someone gets jealous, and someone gets too serious.

Unless, I can happily live in a polyandry world, where everyone is happy in our arrangement, because that is just the way it is.