Incandescently Ridiculous

listening: slow club, when I go

Hee. Well, I won't be married by twenty-four, but The Fellow will be. (I know everyone who reads this blog already knows this, but when one hasn't written in one's personal blog since September 2013 and has failed to even mention one's engagement on said personal blog, maybe we should catch the past few months up, yeah?)

My life is lists, right now. If you've been keeping up with the wedding blog, you'll have gotten a peek into the frenzied world that is wedding planning. If we're being honest, however, my mom and I have remarked more than once on the ease of planning my wedding. We just decide stuff and then do it. It makes watching Say Yes to the Dress and Four Weddings and the like rather hilarious, because we can't imagine being that snippy with each other (or anyone else involved in this wedding!) 

Let this be the shout-out to the wedding party. Alanna, my matron of honour, has come along with my mom and me on more than one shopping trip, has lent her time and craftiness to helping Mom with decorations, has volunteered some driving services for the days before the wedding, has dispatched her husband to be part of the go-between team on the day of the wedding, and has generally been a lovely matron of honour. Stephanie has contributed to various and sundry Pinterest boards, planned a shower and been a general fountain of knowledge and support. Savannah got right in there on the shower planning and support train in her inimitable way (I'm telling you, everyone should have an event planner in their bridal party), Morgan coined the term "consider us a combination of wingwomen and psychiatric nurses", and she along with Jenelle and Clarissa have been the most encouraging, supportive and helpful long-distance bridesmaids one could ask for. I wish that the seven of us were able to really spend some time together before the rehearsal, but I've been so grateful for the Bridemaids group on Facebook as a reasonable facsimile of hanging out and drinking wine. I feel like these girls, some of whom have never met, have made this process so delightful and easy and something I will really remember and enjoy for the rest of my life. I know, too, that Craig is so pleased that all his brothers, my brother, and two of his very best friends are going to stand up for him at the wedding. We are lucky enough to be friends with each other's friends, and so the crowded stage will be a real testament to family and to the family we picked for ourselves. Anne and John too, in the middle of their stressful big move, provide us with a good deal of support and advice for which we are devoutly grateful.

The biggest shout-out from me, however, goes to my mother and father, who have put an unparalleled amount of time and effort into our wedding to make it what we want it to be as well as enjoyable for everyone who's coming. From my dad being the first ever dad to attend a "picking the chair cover colours" meeting for our vendors to my mother spending her spring break fashioning my centrepieces, they have thrown themselves into planning and supporting our ideas, and we would be getting married on the side of the road without them.

I'm also thrilled at the number of people who are able to attend and show their support for us. Getting married at 23/24 is not the Done Thing it used to be, and so to see and feel the love of our friends and family around us as we're preparing for the Blessed Event - it means more to us than I think I can write. People are coming from all over the country for us. That's amazing to me. From Morgan in NS to the Sprung connections in BC - it is truly touching. (Gross! This blahg is getting sappy).

Hopefully I'll check in here more often. I kinda miss it.

-rae

listening: daughter, landfill

One of my favourite presents I ever received was a pair of men's size small Coca-Cola branded pajama pants purchased from Sears the day that I left residence for Christmas holidays.
They were and are a little too short, but handed to me with a handmade card, a can of Coke and a Red Arrow 10% off coupon by a girl who I still didn't know very well but was rapidly becoming one of my best friends, they meant the world to me.
I still wear those pants a few times every couple of weeks - my comfiest, most-well-worn, softest, too-short pair of pajamas. They ride up around my knees when I sleep and drive me bananas, but I still get the same rush of unexpected warmth when I look at them. I had a hard time adjusting to life on my own in Edmonton, and having Savannah as my partner in crime and motivation and skiving buddy and way home from the bar got me by. She still gets me by today.
So Sav, here's a minor tribute. I'm wearing those pants today.

Gifts are a funny thing. I could write pages and pages about things I've received that have made me feel wonderful or that have been the essence of someone's good nature and thought and care for me. Maybe I will some day.

-rae

listening: florence and the machine, hardest of hearts

I meant to come home from games' night at Russ/Darcie/Ryan/Tim/Enrique's house and drink a glass of wine, maybe collect all my bobby pins and put them carefully away. Instead, I'm eating s&v chips and blogging. Lateral move, except for all the bobby pins on my bed.
Tomorrow is the Great Head Shave - for all who've followed me on Facebook this week, you know this has been one of the big events on my newsfeed. I have had the distinct pleasure of knowing Miss Gillian since she was probably just...oh, she can't have been much more than eight the summer her siblings were in the group I led at summer sports camp through the church. (And yes, I was a sports camp leader. Wrap your head around that one). She dated my brother for some time, and I've known her family through our church for obviously quite a while. Hearing about her osteosarcoma diagnosis felt like it broke my heart. I have been praying for her a lot, and railing at God a fair bit as well; I donated to the head shave when it was announced, but kept having the feeling that there was more I could do - there was more of a support that I could be. So off with the locks. I have bought some attractive head scarves and Natasha has loaned me a wig, so we're going to have some fun with it.
I'm so shocked and pleased to relay that I've beat both fundraising goals I set combined - I originally was aiming for 150$, but when my wonderful friends and family knocked that out of the park I set my goal at 400$. As of tonight at 11:00 PM, I've raised 1015$ which is going to the Kids Cancer Care Foundation of Alberta. You guys are amazing. Thank you so, so much.
Bald selfies will be on Instagram and Facebook.
From the bottom of my heart, thank you. And thank you to everyone who is keeping Gillian and her family in their hearts and minds. I never thought this diagnosis to someone not in my family or close friends could hurt so much, but it feels like a slap in the face. Gillian is the most wonderful, kindest, sweetest and most talented girl, and she is stronger than this. I'm so honoured to shave my head to support her in her fight and to raise money to help other kids in the same boat.

-rae

listening: esperanza spalding, I can't help it

This is going to be a very short blog. Also, I'm on my fourth glass of wine, so I take absolutely no responsibility for my typing because YOU KNOW WHAT? It's a good job I even OPENED my blog.


I'm sorry. I didn't mean to be so shouty.
It's the four glasses of wine.

It's the absolutely nothing to say.


-rae

listening: tyler ward, the rescue

Hey, I remember why I used to blog so much in university: I was procrastinating. Much like I am now. (Actually, that's a filthy lie: although I probably could do more *#&@ing chemistry tonight, I did already do more than I a) meant to and b) thought I would. Also, I only cried once. So.)
I keep sneakily screen-peeking Craig hoping to catch him also procrastinating, but he is very good at school and is designing a house instead of blogging or Facebook. I keep putting in requests for my dream house but at the rate we're going I've asked for about fourteen balconies and a hot tub the size of the yard, so I think he's ceased listening to me. I would have, were I him. I believe I requested turrets at some point.
Speaking of dream houses went looking at show homes with my parents and brother a couple of weeks ago (a time-honoured pastime in which my family has indulged for many a year) and I fell completely in love with a house in Evanston. It had a giant, raised kitchen with a big built-in desk just off it, and it was so different from some of the other houses we saw. New homes can sometimes seem a bit cookie-cutter, a bit lacking in character; and this one just overflowed with it. I wanted to marry that house and have its tiny large-kitchened babies. (oxymoron) (what did you just call me?) Anyway, if you see me investigating dream mortgages, that's why.
Debating having potato wedges as a bedtime snack after I drive Craig home. Thoughts?

-rae

listening: ellie goulding, figure 8
(I need you more than I can take).

I should make a resolution not to blog when I'm in a bad mood. It leads to lists and nothing of substance. However, I've been plugging away at Chem 20 for some time this evening and it is so frustrating. It feels like nothing sticks in my head, and now I'm trying to make a coherent hypothesis for my lab about the boiling points of hydrogen compounds and how they are affected by dipole-dipole and London forces and it's on the tip of my tongue pen but I can't make the words go into sentences.
Steph says everyone who has a science degree "and actually cries" has cried over chemistry. That makes me feel better, sitting at my dining room table weeping and looking out at the dark night.
Craig says "you can do it; I believe in you." I tell him this all the time and always mean it, but for some reason it's harder to believe when someone says it to me.
Ooh, we're veering into therapy topics. Ooh, I guess it's time to reference therapy on the blog!
Most of the people who know me and read my blog know about me and my 'broken brain', and thus can skip this next portion because it's going to be worded pretty much exactly how I've probably already speechified it to you. Hand gestures excluded.
If I had a chronic limp, I wouldn't hesitate to use a cane. I wouldn't try and hide it, I'd just use a cane; and when people inquired, I'd explain "such and such makes me limp, and this cane helps me deal with it and walk better." Thusly, an imperfect analogy: My brain does not know how to handle stress and anxiety very well, and I have depression: an SNRI (serotonin-norepinephrine reuptake inhibitor) and therapy help me deal with it and live better. It's actually surprising how long it took me to be okay with saying that out loud, but now I say it all the time and to anybody I know. If I had a broken leg, there would be no stigma about me talking about it. I have a broken brain and I firmly believe it's time for there to be no stigma about me talking about that. (This is a topic my friend and I had a very passionate discussion about the other day, and I feel I need to own it even more now: because of people like a close relative of his who is paralyzingly afraid to admit that something is not as it should be in her brain. If I can own it, maybe it will help someone else own it and ask for help).
So! I go to therapy (the 'head lady', in common parlance around here) and I take a 'head med.' And I don't exactly know why I felt that needed a declaration on my blog which a few close friends and family members read, but I'm really glad I said it. It's my blog about me and me includes my 'broken brain', after all.
Somehow this has veered quite far off of Chemistry 20, but I'm okay with that. I'm actually in a slightly better mood now. I think I'm going to drink some wine while my dear Craig works on his architecture shenanigans (have I mentioned his straight A's last semester? MY BOYFRIEND IS SO SMART) and play Age of Empires because there is plenty of time to cry more about chem tomorrow. Also, I think I nearly have that hypothesis all formulated in the back of my brain. Sleep on it?

-rae

listening: black keys, next girl
(I am actually listening to something Bjorkian as Morgan is watching Dancer in the Dark, but I've had this song stuck in my head for literally days. I've been busting it out at the ferry stop and in the middle of the street. Morgan understands).

In a neat narrative twist, it rained the morning I arrived in Halifax and it's raining now as I contemplate how much I hate packing. The rest of my vacation, it was beautiful - no rain, just a strong wind and sun. It was seventeen degrees yesterday - I didn't wear a coat. The grass on the Commons near Morgan's apartment is still green, and if you didn't notice that the trees are almost bare, you wouldn't guess "November" at all.
I like it here. I like the brightly coloured houses, especially - and how none of them look the same. Everything is old. I took a picture at the ferry terminal that said a ferry has been operating near that same spot since 1752. 
I've walked around downtown Halifax a bit. Friday night, with me still delirious from jet lag and asking Morgan every few minutes what day it was (Morgan: Saturday! If you ask me that again I'm going to disembowel you). We walked along the edge of downtown to get to the ferry terminal to take the Harbour Hopper to Dartmouth yesterday. (Morgan: It's called the Harbour Hopper, but you have to sit down. There are signs). Last night Emma (Morgan's truly wonderful roommate), Morgan and I went out for dinner and then to see Skyfall on Spring Garden Road.
I have done a lot of Haligonian walking, actually. Halifax is a walking city. I walked to Dalhousie with Morgan and attended a guest lecture she had in a gender studies class, about women in the military. I really enjoyed being in a lecture hall and taking notes again; it's funny what you miss. I was dispatched on Monday while Morgan went to work to have an Adventure Day, my two tasks being to not lock myself out of the apartment and to bring Morgan a yam. (Success on both counts, plus a lot of walking and staring at my novel in a Second Cup). I have eaten lobster, scallops, fish and chips and mussels.
One of the real highlights of a wonderful trip, though, was renting a mint-green Ford Focus and driving across three provinces to spend two hours in Charlottetown. (The dirt really is red - so are the roads in parts of New Brunswick and Prince Edward Island! Also, the Confederation Bridge is really, really long. It's quite imposing to be tootling along the highway on PEI and see it in the distance. Also, apropos of nothing, there is a town in PEI called Crapaud. We took pictures).
I could stay here, I think. The pace is different, the air and sea are different. It's a weathered beauty. It's been a wonderful few days.

-rae