I don’t want to write this blog post

So maybe I just won’t.

Nope. I just decided. I’m not going to.

I’ll try again tomorrow.


cheers. xx


I missed a day and that’s okay

Yeah, I did miss the 12th day of NaBloPoMo yesterday. In fact, I didn’t even think about it until I woke up this morning. Apparently I spent an entire day not thinking about writing a blog for a 30-day challenge.

And I don’t even care. Not one bit.

Okay, so clearly I care enough to still write some sort of post for Day 12, but I’m okay knowing that it was a day late.

Usually I feel super guilty and upset with myself for having missed a day throughout these past few years while participating in NaBloPoMo, but maybe, just maybe, I’ve finally come to the realization that I’m doing this for me and not for anyone else (despite my wish for having loads of people read my blog on the regular (though we both know that I don’t write enough for anyone to be able to read regularly anyway)).

But anywho. I’m going to move on. Stay tuned for a new blog in the next hour or so. Gotta keep on top of these things, you know 😛

Until later,

cheers. xx


Late night thoughts

I wonder, I wonder, in these last ten minutes of day 24 if I’m doing the right thing; is moving away to a far-off land the best decision for my two-days-less-than-twenty-five-years-old self? Is leaving all of my friends and family behind in the wake of my grand adventure the most selfish thing I’ve ever done? Should I ignore all doubt in the process?


And that’s all I need.

This is the best decision I can make right now. Those friends and family members will be waiting for me if they’re worth anything. Sometimes we need to be selfish. The doubt is just my brain trying to talk myself out of going on an adventure.

Everything is going to be perfect.

Until tomorrow,




“You’re a Parisian
snowman!” the young
girl, bundled up to her

eyeballs exclaims as
she places a beret on
top of a newly formed

snowman. He’s a bit lopsided,
but it’s the best she’s made
all winter. And the snowman

stares at her through his button
eyes and dreams of baguettes
and the Eiffel Tower and knows

nothing but a stationary life
and the happiness which
exudes from the girl each

day when she comes
to ask him how his winter
is treating him. And his

love grows for her more
each day as she gets taller
and he gets smaller.

“Je suis content,” he thinks
as he melts into the grass when
spring demands the young

girl’s attention.
A short one, but who
are we to say that

snowmen don’t live full lives?



Sometimes I find myself
watching snow falling from
beyond the window

and wondering if I,
too, am being watched
falling from a pedestal.

A pedestal that I
have fabricated in
my mind in a

feeble attempt to
believe that I am
greater than I was before.

My only wish:
to fall gently and to
accumulate with the others

who have built their
own pedestals and
tipped off the side, fallen,

and blanketed the earth in one final hurrah.