Twenty Eleven

2010 was magical, there is no doubt about that. The Olympics, Paris, Switzerland, Hawaii, Vegas, weddings, it was all decently documented here, so I’ll try to not bore everyone with the details again.

But this year is about to come to a close. With two short days left in the year it is time to look ahead. Looking ahead though, frightens the shit out of me.

Almost 30, still single, and feeling a wee unsatisfied, I don’t know what I want from 2011.
And yes, I know I said I was ok with 30, but I may have been a big fat liar. There is so much shit that I want to do with my life, and I feel like I’m running out of time. I mean eventually, I want to settle down, find a boy to spend my life with, but I don't want to rush anything, and well need to hurry the fuck up. Time's running out!

That being said, I think from 2011, I want adventure. I want to feel like I took some chances on me, and maybe one or two will work, but if not, I want to look back on the year ahead thinking I grabbed it by the balls and made 2011 my bitch.

Also, I would like a new liver. This one won’t cut it for much longer.

Here we are again

I originally wrote this post two years ago, but here we are again, like we will be every July 25th. This year make 13 years since my cousin died. And still I sit here, welling up at the idea that another year has passed. That my cute little half-breed nieces & nephews will never know the best part of our family - that they will forever have to hear stories of this man they know only from a photo.

Stupid life.

There are some moments in your life you will never forget. Your first kiss, your first job interview, winning your first award, being published for the first time, you get the drift.

There are other moments though you remember for all the wrong reasons. They catch you off-guard and throw your life into a tailspin. A moment that you will forever be able to revisit by just closing your eyes, the steps you took, the feelings you had, the reaction you gave and then everything else just blurs.

My favorite cousin died 11 13 years ago. All because of a motorcycle accident, this man was taken away from his friends and family far too soon. Far too soon.

He was funny and smart and kind and had this ability to make you feel so special, even if you weren’t. He was adventurous and outgoing and playful and I doubt you will find anyone out there to say a bad word about him. He was someone you could look up to and admire, without ever feeling lame for actually admiring someone.

And after going down a few steps and sitting down with my dad, he was taken away from me. Forever. Well, he had been taken away from me a couple of days earlier, I just didn’t know about it. Sometimes, ignorance really is bliss. And while I can vividly remember the moment leading up to my dad talking to me and the talk my dad had with me and a few moments immediately after, the rest it is all a blur, with random memories here and there; things that gave me some sort of comfort and other things that proved to be no solace at all.

I think about him all the time, obviously, more so today. The upsetting thing is, I cannot remember his voice. I remember what he looks like and moments we spent together, but I was only 16 and didn’t know that I needed to remember what his voice sounded like. You never realize that you NEED to remember these things, that moments you never thought would matter, really do when you can’t have them anymore.

You never realize that the people you love won’t always be around. That one day, you will be calling their family to say, I am thinking about them today. But in reality, you think about them all the time. At the top of a climb and the beautiful view, I think, fuck Hugh would have loved this.

So, yeah, today sucks. I has since 1997 and it will every year until the day I die. All because of one fucking moment, one little fucking second, so many years ago.

Worst day ever.

Frustration

I am starting to get frustrated.

Single for three years, dating the entire time, I have yet to meet a boy I really enjoy in Vancouver.

No, because I like the difficult life, in the past three years, the only boy that I have met that I like enough to think about dating lives 8333km away. (yes, that is the exact distance from Vancouver to Bern)

So now, not only does he live very far away, but because I think he's pretty great, I'm getting frustrated. Frustrated with the fact that we cannot really get to know each other from so far away. Frustrated that this great life I have here cannot be shared with him. Frustrated that because I was lucky enough to find him, I am now uninterested in the idiots boys here.

It was four really special days in Bern and how I would love for it to translate into something more. At the very least a second or third date. But I am starting to feel the hope he provided slipping away. He is too cute to remain single for much longer.

And my biggest fear may just come true: I will be forgotten.

I hate the idea of being forgotten. Especially by this boy.

sigh

The Spirit

Ok, I admit it. My cynical heart is totally warmed by the Olympic spirit.

In fact, I'm a little drunk with it. But more on that later.

Tomorrow, the Olympic cauldron will be lit. No one knows who will light the cauldron. It is apparently the best kept secret in Canada. Which in and of itself is pretty cool.

My thought is this: Wayne Gretzky will run the flame into BC Place, and together, with Betty Fox, they will light the torch.

I am extremely attached to the idea of Betty Fox lighting that cauldron.

Why?

You see, I was named after my grandmother. Originally, I was supposed to be named after Tanya Tucker, but three weeks before I was born, my grandmother, Iris Ann Suares, died. So, rather than just Tanya got Iris Tanya Ann.

Go ahead, you can't not say it with a southern accent.

I never knew my grandmother, but she has had such an impact on me. A lot of it has to do with the name, but I think much of it has to do with the unknown. I was the only one of my cousins that never knew her and the all spoke so highly of her. When I was young, the name felt like a burden, but I'm also convinced, the name won me a special place in my grandfather's heart.

She was also, despite the technical difficulties, the best grandmother I had.

I also didn't know Terry Fox. In fact, up until a few years ago, I had very little emotional attachment to Terry Fox.

That changed when my ma told me about how, after my grandmother lost her legs, my mom took her down to see Terry Fox run through Toronto. Apparently, it was something my grandmother felt very strongly about and was very adamant about doing.

To hear my mom tell this story, to paint this picture and to hear about how my favorite blanket, that I still use, was the same blanket used to cover my grandmother's legs so she wasn't embarrassed for being an amputee, and was there with her just weeks before she died, well that puts Terry Fox very close to my heart.

I mean, my blanket, the only tangible piece piece of this lady I never knew, was with her when she saw him. I think that is pretty special.

So I really hope it is Betty Fox. Like a lot.

For any people outside of the Great White North that may not know who Terry Fox is, Big Daddy posted a great video the other day: