Forever Tainted

~*~

~*~

And though my free time may be minimal, the time Lars and I have together is well worth it.  We enjoy our tea-time together.  We’re pretty content around here.

I’ll wait for you there, like a stone.

I’ll wait for you there… alone.

…the answer to getting what I want. I graduated my IGCSE’s way back in 1998 or so. Being a student in an International School in Dubai, UAE, this was the high school equivalent. I went from completing my IGCSE’s to the American University, where I studied just two semester’s of Visual Communications before leaving school behind and heading into the workforce. I didn’t want to study Visual Communications and at the time, it was pretty much that, Business or Interior Design available as accredited diploma options. I wasn’t interested in any of these.

Nonetheless, with all this education behind me and the opportunity to study whatever the hell I want now; that ‘whatever the hell’ being Exercise and Wellness, I need to first be able to answer questions like, ’ One factor of a² -8a +12 is…’ to even be admitted. I have long since forgotten the methods to such equations and for the life of me I do not know the answer (or even how to go about getting it). All the math I do these days is calculated with either an electronic device or some sort of computer program. I do very little actual mathematical thinking.

So, I’m going back to school – and I mean high school, at least for Math 11 & 12, Biology 12 and maybe some English recaps (because lord knows I don’t know how to read or write). Of course, I’ll take these courses online. I have an orientation meeting on Jan 6th with an advisor about how to best reach my goals prior to my actual fulltime college classes starting on campus in September 2011. The idea of all this learning is exciting to me. I really must be a geek at heart!

But last night, Jod’s and I looked at some of these prep questions from the assessment test and laughed our asses off about how much we’ve forgotten and how little we seem to know now. It’s true that in many aspects of real life, you really don’t need to know all the mathematical applications you’re taught in high school – and many teens will probably grow to forget the majority of what they’re forced to learn. Like myself, they won’t even realize it. It’s suckers like me that decide more than a decade down the road we want a career with scientific edge to it; suckers like me that end up having to go back and re-learn this stuff.

It’s a good thing I love to learn.

I woke up this morning and logged onto Facebook. Staring me in the face was this status, ‘Ask yourself, what would you love to do and then do it. R.I.P. John Lennon.’

The timing is impeccable, as lately, I’ve been asking myself what it is I love and whether or not I should be making some major life changes. For a long time I wasn’t able to answer a question like, ‘What do I like,’ or ‘What makes me happy.’ My answers were always something along the line of, ‘I can’t tell you want I want or love, but I can tell you what I don’t want or don’t love.’ Times are changing, evolving and so am I. I’ve learned I love endorphins. I love physical activity (once I get into the routine). I love working out at the gym. I’ve learned I love to laugh. I love comedy. I enjoy good, wholehearted company. I’ve learned I love people and I’ve learned I love to learn.

So I’m thinking about going back to school. To be precise, I’ve been thinking about going back to college to get a degree in Exercise & Wellness. It would mean becoming a full-time student for two years. It would cost around $8000. I would have to take a student loan, and I would have to either leave my job or reduce my hours to part-time. But in the end, I would come out with a degree in something I love, a stepping-stone to further education if I want it, a potential career as a personal trainer or something along those lines and a healthier, possibly happier me.

I’m scared of change though. And this is a big one. Perhaps it’s a leap of faith in me that I have to take?

”Today, I interviewed my grandmother for part of a research paper I’m working on for my Psychology class. When I asked her to define success in her own words, she said, “Success is when you look back at your life and the memories make you smile.”

I read that quote today. It made me think…

While I was in Squamish this past week, I got up with my 7-year-old niece and her little friend and I jumped on the trampoline. My sister has a trampoline. Lars’ sister has a trampoline. And I had a trampoline in my back yard for the longest time before mom died. I never once before had the courage to do such a thing. I will remember jumping with the little ones, and I'll smile.

More than a decade in Dubai conditioned me to think that jumping on a trampoline, like biking, working out, running, or conducting any sort of physical activity was inappropriate, even rude for a girl to do. I’m so very thankful I’m not longer a part of that hell. I look back on so many years there with pain and frustration.

Here are a couple more reasons I’m glad I’m not there anymore: Reason One – Sex Crimes & Reason 2 – Cough Syrup.

I’m going to spend more time doing what I know will make me smile, and less time with the crap that makes me unhappy. Lars is going to smile with me… Looks like we may have a new member to the family pretty soon, too…

Leaving my house of out sheer frustration today, I found myself wandering down the beach side, and into a graveyard. I think it’s important to remember the dead, even if you never knew them while they lived. A visit to the graveyard helps remind you, that you a mere mortal…

I took photos along the way, as I often find its easier to express myself creatively, rather than talking. And the number of pain-killers and sedatives I’ve taken today make talking or typing a pretty big task.


Walking along the water, I found this bouquet in the tree. I can only assume it’s there to remind passer-by’s of a death that had occurred there. Such sights are not uncommon here.


~*~
Than I came across a place I felt belonged…



And though it didn’t look just like that while I was there, in my mind, that’s exactly what I saw.

~*~

Two things struck me at the graveyard:



The date of death on this was 1919. 91 Years ago. And there are fresh flowers on her tombstone today. It goes to show some people will not ever be forgotten. Who could have lived long enough ago to remember Agnes Roberts? And how old is this person now?

Some pains never die. And some people will always be loved, even in death.

~*~

In death, there was an abundance of life:



I sincerely hope my grave looks something like this when I’m gone.



~*~

As I made my way back to the path by the water… I found myself a peace.

June 21, 2010

Lars,

I have no idea what possesses me to write this, but I feel consumed with this deep sadness… Not for me. I’m at peace. My life with you is perfect. It’s a deep sorrow I feel for you.

I need you to know that I love you with all my heart. My life… Me… I am complete now. And I so hope I’m wrong, but as I pack to leave for Squamish, I can’t help but feel it’s the last time. And last night, last night I slept the perfect sleep wrapped in your love; like a perfect end.

Thank you. Thank you for being so: so very wonderful. And thank you for loving me.

If something should happen to me, know my only regret is the time I did not spend with you. This letter should serve as my Last Will & Testament. And legal or not, I wish that everything possible is done to make sure these simple requests are fulfilled:

Promise me you’ll stand by Martin and my brother Jesse long enough to know they are going to cope alright. Please help them be strong, as I know you will be. And hug Kelly Fouchier, tell her I love her with all my heart, but know she doesn’t need you as they do.

Promise me you won’t let either of those epitomes of evil, Sheila Fouchier or Eleanor Russell near my family, my estate or me or my remains. It was not possible for me to live as if I had never encountered either vile excuse for a woman, I wish to at the very lest, die as though neither of these things existed in my life.

Promise me that when my son is old enough to understand, you’ll let him know that I loved him with all my heart and made every choice I possibly could in his best interest.

And finally, perhaps most important of all, promise me you’ll find happiness in our past and your future. I love you, and that is my truest wish for you.

As for my estate… After my debts are paid, I leave everything I own (including but not limited to my apartment in Dubai, my 2006 Nissan Altima (here in Canada), my 2003 Nissan Maxima (in Dubai), any and all jewellery, including that which was left to me from my mother’s estate) to Martin Christopher Lee to divide among my loved ones or keep to him, as he desires. I do hope something profitable for you all, becomes of the little I have, eventually. Perhaps you could all build something together?

There are two groups of people mentioned in this letter. You are either one of the reasons my life was worth living and I thank you, or you were living proof that true evil does exist and have made me even more thankful for the latter in my life.

Much love…
Xx

There is a signed copy of this on the bottom part of our bedside table, babes. I hope I'm just consumed with emotion today, and confusing the fear of missing you for a week with the fear of never seeing you again. I hope you never, ever have to pull it out, but it's there if you need it and I'd much rather be safe than sorry. I love you.

Tomorrow night, about 3 minutes to midnight marks 2 months. And it’s been a great two months – though it feels like it’s been a lot longer.

I woke at about 3am beside him last night in tears. Dreams of my mom, or rather of my mom being dead and me so very helpless without her woke me. I was in an antique store with this stupid blue cat toy in my arms. It was something like those Russian dolls that are just cases of smaller doll after smaller doll inside. I wanted it so very bad, and I knew that if my mother were alive she’d have bought it. But as I hugged it this woman walked by and told me she was going to buy it. I burst into tears, telling her how badly I wanted it and that I couldn’t afford to buy it. I woke, crying my little eyes out.

I miss her. I wish I could have just one dream of her being alive and healthy… Or even just happy, if she has to be dead.

It’s ten to 9am. I’ve dropped Lars off at work, put a phone call in to my son; he’s off to Thailand on the 10th of this month… If only his fucking dad would send him here instead…

Anyway, as soon as my Ipod charges I’m heading out to the gym. That always makes me feel better. My father comes home tonight. I think I’m leaving tomorrow morning for Squamish, though I’ve not yet fully decided. I’ll miss Lars and I’m not looking forward to leaving for that reason alone. Otherwise, I’m growing tired of this rock… My father’s ok with Lars being here while I’m gone. I’m ok with the two of them getting to know each other in my absence – hell he let me meet his mother and sister (bless them) for the first time without him.

Talking with him about the tattoo, we’ve thrown a few more ideas in there. Lars likes the idea of a voodoo doll. I like the idea of a pin-up doll – I mean a doll, literally pinned up to my back – bloody limbs and all. But then, I’m twisted that way.

We’ll see what we decide on when I’m back. In the meantime, I need to get the hell out of here. The gym is calling.