The Act of Lightening

I have a story to tell you that starts with nail polish and ends with the promise of good things to come. Let me start by saying that it's been a hard couple of days. School, relationships, social life - everything seems to have gotten really heavy recently and I'm nearly crumbling under the weight. So in between writing essays and wondering what kind of person I want to be, I gave myself a slightly more tangible goal: to stop biting my nails.

This might not sound like a big deal. Or you might be absolutely disgusted at the very thought of it and it might be the biggest deal in the world. Let me explain.

I've been biting my nails for as long as I can remember. Whenever I'm stressed or bored and especially when I'm writing. My nails are puny. The total surface area that they cover on my fingers is barely noticeable. For a long time I resigned myself to being that weird girl with the gross nails. I wouldn't draw attention to them and I certainly wouldn't paint them. My hands were never going to be beautiful - I would whip them out, do whatever needed to be done, and shove them back into my pockets, fearing knowing eyes and judging looks. But this year I decided to change that. I love nail polish! I love colors! I love making your appearance something that you can have fun with rather than worry about. So this year I am determined to stop biting my nails.

So far, I've been doing an okay job of it. Not planning on being a hand model any time soon, but hey, if it means no more history readings...

Today was a big day. Today I woke up with an aching throat and a pounding headache and a to do list that covered multiple sticky notes. Today I almost couldn't take it. So I decided to paint my nails.

I was sitting outside on the fire escape, watching downtown Vancouver disappear into fog while the sun sank behind the mountains, concentrating far too hard on getting every last drop of paint onto the specks that are my finger nails, and I was okay. The nail polish, a chalky, primary school yellow that I bought at a Dollar Store and makes me look like I have jaundice and freaky short nails, is called Lightening. And I decided that maybe, just maybe, that's a sign.

No sudden revelations, no abrupt changes, no lightning. But a gradual and conscious shift to the better. More days when being happy doesn't seem like such a struggle. More time and space to breathe. Less weight on your shoulders and less people or things trying to bring you down. Today, tomorrow, and every day after that we are consistently, determinedly and irrevocably 

lightening.

Now to show off my handiwork. Sorry for the messed up nails, guys, but again, I'm working on it.

Friday Find: Trees Organic Coffee

It's been feeling a lot colder on my mountain top recently. And not just I'm-wearing-three-sweaters-and-Google-changed-it's-homepage-to-mark-the-coldest-recorded-temperature-in-Canada cold, either. Last week I had to deal with some less than cheerful happenings - someone stole my phone and wallet. It was one of those things that you always hear about, but I never imagined it actually happening. Which is probably why I left them in my bag and walked away for a few minutes (in the library. Is no place sacred?!). Sometimes there are people in this world who want to do bad things and you can't always stop them.

It was a rough day, but it isn't all bad. I've felt such an outpouring of support and kindness since then (balanced, of course, with the occasional "Well, that was dumb") and, in what is possibly the ultimate display of affection, a friend of mine even bought me cheesecake.

If you find yourself in downtown Vancouver, Trees Organic Coffee not only advertises "Vancouver's Best Cheesecake," they do a pretty good job on delivering. I shared two slices - Maple Walnut and Chocoholic. Maple Walnut was definitely the winner. Soft and creamy, rich without being too sweet -basically everything you could possibly want in a cheesecake.

Trees describes itself as "a European style cafe - laid back and somewhat bohemian." It definitely felt like a place where you could spend your whole evening. Several evenings, actually. I'm leaning towards every night of the week, every week. Especially since they have a punch card system. Order 9 slices of cheesecake and you get the 10th one free (same goes for coffee)!

If you ever want to meet for cheesecake, I am so there. Clutching my purse with my brand new wallet and borrowed cell protectively to my chest. There are some things worth braving the cold for.

Home

Starting university for me has also meant living away from home for the first time. But when I went back for Christmas break, I couldn't help but feel like I'd left several important pieces of my life - my new life - behind.

Home to me is like shooting stars or melting snow. 

It's a feeling, not a place. And when I'm lost or lonely, I know that deep down inside I'm craving that feeling more than anything else.

When you can text a friend in the middle of the night to go eat french fries and lukewarm grilled cheese in your pyjamas.

When you catch a smile over the rim of a tea cup.

When you don't need words or thoughts or explanations to know that you're feeling exactly the same thing at exactly the same time as another human being.

I'm not homesick for a house 17 hours away. I'm not homesick for mountains or pancakes or late night news, the glow of the TV illuminating your pajamas and fuzzy socks, a fleeting smile on your face when I come in the door.

But some days I do wildly, desperately, painfully miss that feeling of belonging. Of knowing. Of being home. So let's go out, let's explore new territories within ourselves and the world around us. Let's learn new things and meet new people and lead fabulous lives full of incredible experiences. But I hope you always have a place, deep down inside yourself, that you can return to when you need to curl up and be alone. A place where smiles are open and books are thick.

I hope a little part of you always always always stays home.

Made with ♥ Monday: Cinnamon Roll Scones

My perpetual downfall, in life as in scones, seems to be that I don't quite know when to quit.

That's why I ask people, "How are you?" when we run into each other on the way to class and end up having to yell "Good, thanks, and yourself?" over our shoulders because a simple hey just wasn't enough.

That's why, once I'm really hugging someone, it'll take a forklift or at least an incredibly awkward amount of back-patting and contented sighs (entirely on my part, let's face it) to make me let go.

And that's why, as seems to be the natural way of the universe, my scones are always ALWAYS dense. But, my friends, I have news. I have hope. I have, sitting on a plate next to me, the impossible.

I made fluffy scones. And not just any scones. Cinnamon roll scones, for the cinnamon bun addict (namely me) who just can't wait for dough to rise. Continue reading and share in the wonder that is:

Cinnamon Roll Scones

original recipe here

Scones:

2 cups flour

1 Tablespoon white sugar

1 teaspoon baking powder

1/2 teaspoon baking soda

1 pinch of salt

6 Tablespoons cold butter

1 cup buttermilk

Filling:

2 Tablespoons softened butter

1/3 cup brown sugar

1 teaspoon cinnamon

Whisk together your flour, sugar, baking powder, baking soda and salt. Then add the butter, preferably cut into cubes, and work it in with your fingers until the whole thing looks crumbly and delicious (well, at this point, not really. But soon, I swear).

Add the buttermilk and mix only until everything sticks together. If you're like me, this is incredibly hard. Resist the temptation to work in every last bit of flour. It's difficult, but it's worth it.

Transfer the dough to a lightly floured surface and knead into a rectangle that's about 8x11 (think sheet of paper size, or, if you have piles of homework and reading from the first week of your second semester, use one of your many syllabuses--syllabi?!--for reference!). I ended up using a rolling pin, totally convinced that my scones were going to come out rock hard, but, due to some kind of freaky black magic and/or pacts with the devil, they didn't! (I may or may not have promised some nefarious character my first born child in exchange for this baking miracle. So worth it.)

Spread the softened butter over your dough then sprinkle the brown sugar and cinnamon over top. Try to get it everywhere (including your mouth, if necessary). Sprinkle a little water or milk along one edge then, starting from the opposite edge, roll it loosely to form a log and press to seal.

Slice your happy delicious cinnamon log into 8 pieces, put them on a baking sheet and pop it into the oven at 400F for 17 to 20 minutes. Personally, feeling a little impatient, I took them out right at the 17 minute mark to check (just do the old fork-batter test) and the bottoms were already a tiny bit burnt! Oh no! Just goes to show you can never be too quick to eat scones.

Let them cool, grab a book (if you're super lucky, something that isn't a textbook!), curl up and welcome the week in the best kind of way. Happy Monday and lots of love.

20 Before 20

So a funny thing happened to me yesterday. I turned 19.

WHOA! CRAZY! BIG DEAL FUN TIMES!

Well, to be honest it kind of was. But it was also the first day of a new semester and the first of many very long Monday mornings. But I spent it meeting new people, eating frozen yogurt, and starting my freshly assigned readings in a room full of flowers. That is my definition of a happy birthday.

In the midst of all this wild and crazy partying (with morning classes the next day? Yeah, maybe next time) I spent a few minutes looking forward to the year ahead. I do love making lists, and my birthday project was to compile a list of 20 Things To Do Before I Turn 20.

Here it is, my road map for the year ahead. I may not know where I'm going, but I hope I'll have 20 more stories to tell by the time I get there! Hello, 2014 and hello to a brand new year full of possibilities. Possibilities and stationary, that is.

Books of 2013

2013 (last year, as bizarre as that sounds) was my first attempt at the 50 Book Pledge and, to be honest, it got a little crazy. You know it's bad when the first thing you do after picking out a new book is to flip to the end to check the page count. And you know it's especially bad when you stick with books you don't even like that much just in order to finish. Let's just say I can get a little competitive - I may or may not have a history of tackling my fellow first graders during sack races. It's a vicious sport - and when I pledge to do something, I am absolutely determined to follow through. Treating books like game tokens, though? Yeah, that's not something I'm particularly proud of.

I don't think any reading is bad reading, though, and I ended up choosing (and finishing!) a lot of books that I otherwise probably wouldn't have. I also freaked out a few librarians - and worked on my biceps - by gathering massive stacks of hardcovers every time I stopped in.

The 50 Book Pledge is unique in that now, almost a week into the new year, I can go back and look at everything I read in 2013. It's fun to remember the odd ones, like The Day I Ate Whatever I Wanted by Elizabeth Berg, a collection of short stories about middle aged women who are dissatisfied with their lives and end up eating a lot of cake. Or You Had Me at Hello by Mhairi McFarlane, a British romantic comedy that had me saying "snogging" without an ounce of humour for at least a week afterwards.

I can go back and see the books I got for Christmas; the books I read on a train trip that took three hours longer than planned; the books I read for class in both high school and university; the books I read on my e-reader while exploring Germany; the books I bought in Heathrow because they were three for the price of two and seemed extra cheap because the prices were in pounds; the books I devoured any chance I got on breaks from work and school; my winter, spring, summer and fall collections; books for rainy days, snowy days and beach days; and the books that became true friends and instant favourites.

2013 was a good year for reading, even if I only made it to 45 (I know, I know, I'd score a Participation ribbon, at best). But hey, for the sake of fairness, let's just round that up a little.

My books of 2013:

1. Animal Farm by George Orwell
2. The Raven Boys by Maggie Stiefvater
3. Anna Dressed in Blood by Kendare Blake
4. The Anatomy of Wings by Karen Foxlee
5. The Perks of Being a Wallflower by Stephen Chbosky
6. One Day by David Nicholls
7. The Gargoyle by Andrew Davidson
8. Demonglass by Rachel Hawkins
9. Spellbound by Rachel Hawkins
10. The Wayfinders by Wade Davis
11. Reached by Ally Condie
12. Clockwork Princess by Cassandra Clare
13. Lips Touch by Laini Taylor
14. You Had Me at Hello by Mhairi McFarlane
15. Monkey Beach by Eden Robinson
16. Across the Universe by Beth Revis
17. The Calling by Kelley Armstrong
18. Hamlet by William Shakespeare
19. All Quiet on the Western Front by Erich Maria Remarque
20. The Flight of Gemma Hardy by Margot Livesey
21. Altered by Jennifer Rush
22. Invincible Summer by Hannah Moskowitz
23. The Virgin Suicides by Jeffrey Eugenides
24. The Day I Ate Whatever I Wanted by Elizabeth Berg
25. St Lucy's Home for Girls Raised by Wolves by Karen Russell
26. For Darkness Shows the Stars by Diana Peterfreund
27. A Discovery of Witches by Deborah Harkness
28. The Time Traveler's Wife by Audrey Niffenegger
29. Looking for Alaska by John Green
30. Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close by Jonathan Safran Foer
31. The Ocean at the End of the Lane by Neil Gaiman
32. Her Fearful Symmetry by Audrey Niffenegger
33. The Graveyard Book by Neil Gaiman
34. Will Grayson, Will Grayson by John Green and David Levithan
35. The Girl Who Chased the Moon by Sarah Addison Allen
36. Great Expectations by Charles Dickens
37. Nervous Conditions by Tsitsi Dangarembga
38. Surfacing by Margaret Atwood
39. Buddha of Suburbia by Hanif Kureishi
40. The Reptile Room by Lemony Snicket
41. An Abundance of Katherines by John Green
42. The Dream Thieves by Maggie Stiefvater
43. Allegiant by Veronica Roth
44. The Madness Underneath by Maureen Johnson
45. This Moose Belongs to Me by Oliver Jeffers