The craziest ever story that you will tell 20 years from now and laugh about because it actually happened to you. What is the truth?

Today I finally got some answers. I am going to purposely remain vague; I had a conversation about this before, about how much to disclose in such a public forum. After some thought I've decided to change my approach. That is, I once thought of this thing as a diary, a place to put my thoughts, so that one day I may look back and remember. And this being public, I have to think more carefully about what I say. I do this for myself and nobody else and this is the way it will be.


Right, so back to the beginning. I got some answers today after I think was an appropriate delay, now that I am changed and ready and no longer naive. It's not helping me to sleep right now, but I am assured that I will feel better soon.


I used to be naive, to think that life would have this linear trajectory. Because I wanted it to work-out. Before I turned 20, I remembered hearing a warning - now looking back, a prediction - that being in your 20s isn't easy. I thought, that's absurd, it can't really be that difficult. But now I get it. I do. Thank you, to whoever, whatever is trying to teach me a lesson, but now I get it. Can we get over it now? And now all I hear is 40 is the new 30. That is another disconcerting "warning" and I can both agree and disagree with it. I don't want to wait until I am 40 to realize my happiness; then again, I also don't want to feel like I've already done my best work and that the rest is downhill from here.


What surprised me most in my lesson is how poorly people can treat each other. I used to think that it takes a lot of effort to be mean to somebody, but maybe it is the opposite, it takes a lot of effort to be nice...otherwise people would more often use their better sense to be nice. Have I lost my faith in people? No, but as I said before, I am no longer naive.


Sometimes I wonder if I demand too much niceness from others. I think that is one of my faults...maybe I end up being this human reminder or conscience if you will, to be good and to make the right decision. God that must suck to have to deal with.


All I really ask for is decency.


I have been feeling more confused than ever. Am I coming or going? Do I cry or do I laugh? Do I let go or stay guarded? There is so much more of the real world that I have yet to discover. It's daunting. But I am happy that my eyes have finally been opened. I am confronted with my past more often then I'd like to experience. That being said, I have thought about things enough to know that there are many ways I could have handled myself. I won't purport that I could ever have changed any outcome. That is a statement I will stand by. Guilt is a funny thing, but I'd never want anybody to feel guilt over me, because that just makes me a victim. And I am not a victim.

Jeopardy.

A cheeky wee tale. Pt. II

Where did I leave off...I think I was complaining about my accomodations, but I'm really not that mad. I got to stay there for freeee! It took me about a day to get over the jet lag. I really struggled to stay awake, especially with a full day ahead. It was painful having to go to Somerfields to buy groceries shortly after landing...I naturally found myself gravitating towards the candy aisle to see what kind of candy I could grab for myself (the Guylian dark chocolate I bought from duty-free was not enough). I think it's a blast to look at how different the packaged food is in different countries. The major observation I made was that everything is packaged into smaller portions - really strange. I tried to nap for the rest of the time, but I had to wake up in the middle to watch the French Open Finals...damn, Federer lost again! That was basically the end of Day 1.

Bus trips was the theme of this trip - I didn't realize how cool it would be to take a bus trip in Toronto. I always see those red double decker buses driving around downtown and I just might hop onto one of them some day. The red double decker really is universal and I just couldn't help myself, I had to get onto one in Glasgow...and Edinburgh. The first day in Glasgow was a dream. Blue skies and 20 plus temperature. I could have gone around all day on the top of the bus. Glasgow is pretty with its old buildings and interesting architectural details. We ended up stopping at the University of Glasgow and the Hunterian Museum, which had some cool medical displays. Unfortunately, we were prohibited from entering the library as a non-student!! I can't really recall seeing a single homeless person there, something that really surprised me. But as it was explained to me, Glasgow has a strong social support system rooted in its blue collar history. The last stop, of course was to Argyle St. for some shopping. I was a bit disappointed that most stores close at 6pm though. I fully expected to go to Scotland/UK and come back with a new favourite store...BUT I was overall very disappointed. I was also really surprised to find that I couldn't shop in most stores because their sizes begin at 8! Below 8 is considered petite. Is this the land of giants?? It would really suck to have to shop in the kid's section all the time. Topshop had a petite section but the maternity section was just as big. It got me to look around, and I realized that there weren't many small people there. There weren't many obese people, but they weren't small either.

*What I did realize while I was there is that I need a hot pair of boy-fit jeans!!!*

The next bus trip was in Edinburgh, a short train ride away...the train ride was so smooth that I seriously now am considering to take the VIA Rail rather than Greyhound. As soon as we got to Edinburgh, I was blown away by the character of the city. I was instantly 20 times more impressed with Edinburgh than I was with Glasgow. The first good sign - an H & M...familiarity is wonderful ;) I noticed a distinct difference between the accents. Unfortunately, the weather was really bad. It was sooo cold with just a sweatshirt on that I had to buy a wool plaid scarf. Later in the day it was drizzling rain. But I had a blast walking around the city, in between buildings and discovering interesting little quotes and bits of history written on plaques and carved into stone pathways. It was amazing to be able to stand at the top of a hilly road and look out to the horizon and see the water peaking out amongst the old architecture. Amazing. The view of the water was even better from the castle. I won't say much more about the castle other than being able to see the Crown Jewels...no pics allowed unfortunately. They were displayed along with the Stone of Destiny, on which Scottish kings were crowned; apparently this Stone of Destiny, returned from the English is not the real deal...it was a dummy stone that replaced the real stone when the English came to steal it. The last stop before dinner was to Mary Kings Close, a tour beneath the city to learn a bit of the history of that part of the city along the Royal Mile. The tour was a blast - it had a mix of the learning experience along with mystery, intrigue and oooooh, suspense. Very fun. I definitely could have spent more time in the Burgh but my biggest gripe is that there is nowhere to eat!! Where does everyone go after 7pm??? I suppose home, but most likely the bars...which were nowhere to be found. Anyhoo, we finally found a place to eat after walking in the rain for 20 minutes.

*Note to self. If anyone wants to lose weight, go to Scotland. Not for any reason other than that the food STINKS!!!*

A cheeky wee tale 'boot Scotland. Pt. I

My god what an interesting week. It started with some booze purchases and ended with another pick-up in a bus.

The week can be summarized quickly in a few words, in case you don't have time to read the rest. Whisky. Cold. Gloomy. Haggis. Black pudding. Loch Ness. Bagpipes and kilts. Plaid. Bus tours. Cranky host. Badminton. Aiy. Murrderrr.

Ok, not to worry, there was no murder other than basically the last few centuries of bloodshed that took place in Scotland. Seriously, there was not a story told that didn't end in murrrrderrrr. And I don't think I could ever say that word again without saying it in the good ole Scottie accent.

I called my host a cranky man, but really he's a cranky, disgruntled, cynical old man. Way too cynical to be in his 20s. Don't get me wrong, I am really grateful that he let us stay with him for a week. Despite his disposition, I have a feeling that he was happy to have us around. Sister's still bitter that he asked her to buy all of this stuff for him that he can't get in Canada - did it come out to more than $100? - and he didn't offer to pay her back. Is it not common courtesy that when you ask for something, you are going to pay for it? Anyhow...I think his girlfriend holds most of the decency in that pair. I think we earned our stay there, most definitely.

The first two days we did not have hot water...what does that mean? That means ice cold showers. Oh my goodness. For anyone who knows me, I primarily work at optimal temperatures that doesn't waiver outside of a 4 degree range - that's 23 - 26 degrees celsius. And I also must take a shower once a day. What a funny sight it must have been to see me taking a shower, one limb in and out of the water at a time. I don't think I was able to actually wash out the shampoo from my hair for the entire week because I just couldn't hold my head under the cold water long enough. But, you say, we only lost hot water for 2 days? Well when the hot water came back, it was like trying to tame a wild beast. The water was either HOT or COLD. The Scots don't believe in WARM.

The internet also went black for a couple of days too. And I am desperately dependent on checking my e-mail at least 2 times a day.

Right. And another thing about Scots. Basically the temperature outside determines the temperature inside. The apartment was freeeeezing the entire time. I know that people tell me that I am Canadian. Yes, thank you for reminding me. But we also wear toques and down winter coats. People were wearing tank tops in 10 degree weather. In Scotland, the tourists wear scarves.

......................................

IN SCOTLAND.

I will let you know how the haggis was on Friday. God it's cold here.

Fitness journal.

Why is it that I feel bloated after three days of running? Shouldn't I feel energized and stronger? I think that's my old mentality, back in the day when I was more fit. All I have to do is get over this horrid post-work out slump and push past it. Part of me wants to quit this working out business...clearly it's not for me. When I get home I am tired, sweaty, dehydrated and my whole face turns beet-red. Maybe that's half the problem, I'm always thinking about food, before, during and after I work-out.

Shut up. A few minutes of pain really isn't that big of a deal. OK, you can do this!