Life & Feather Update

Ha. Ha. Ha.
Success. Dedication.
I laugh in their faces.
Because that's easier than facing them and admitting that I let both of them down.
I have not been writing.
I have not been cleaning.
I have not been eating slowly.
I have failed in every way in all of my feathers. Big. Fat. Fs.

But you know what the funny thing is?

Somehow, I don't feel bad.

And that, strange as it is, is most definitely a good thing.

You know what it means?

My perfectionism is loosening its constricting grip. I'm learning to work with myself and be happy with myself.

I've failed, yet I don't feel like a failure. I feel like my life is more under control than it has been in a long time. My room has boxes and crates and bags and clothes everywhere in preparation for moving, moving OUT and I feel oddly calm and controlled.

What is this? Am I maturing? Is that what this is?

Or am I perhaps getting used to my failure?

I don't know. Either way, I feel like I'm no closer to figuring out what this blog is supposed to be doing.   Or, for that matter, what I'm supposed to be doing with this blog. But the feather thing is, perhaps, going to take a sabbatical.

I would appreciate so much if whoever reads this would take the time to comment on what kind of blog you think I should write. A personal/lifestyle blog? A project blog? A beauty blog? What am I? 

Love you all.

About Me Tag

Vital Statistics:

Place of Birth: Somewhere in Canada ;)

Zodiac Sign: Libra

Male or Female: Female

Occupation: Free as a wild bird. Except for school.

Residence: Canada, as in NOT GONNA TELL YOU. Shorry.

Screen Name: Angel/The Fledgling Angel

Appearance:

Hair Colour: Dirty Blonde

Hair Length: Short/Medium

Eye colour: Hazel

Best Feature: Eyes

Height: 5' 9 3/4"

Braces?: Got them off in May! Will not miss. At.All.

Glasses?: Yes, but more often I wear ma contacts to spare the world a little of my nerdiness. {Apparently that's not a word. Okay.}

Piercing: Ears

Tattoos: None.

Righty or Lefty: Righty

Your 'Firsts':

First best friend: My friend C., we met when I was 2 and she was my only friend for a long time. Happily, we're still friends. Though I have more friends now.

First Award: No idea? I've been getting violin awards since I was seven or eight, so probably something like that.

First Sport You Joined: Baseball! I hate baseball. It's the most boring sport ever, but my mom put me in a little tykes baseball when I was around four. I couldn't hit to save my life, or catch for that matter. Most memorable moment was in my first game when I finally hit the ball, and hit it pretty well. Everyone was yelling at me to run home, and I, having no idea how to play baseball or what home was, starting running for my house. 

First Real Vacation: That I can remember, Mexico with my extended family.

First Concert: Faber Drive. I'm not proud, people. 

First Love: Hasn't happened as of yet.

Favourites:

Movie: Lord of the Rings.

TV Show: Don't really have TV, but anything food related.

Colours: Blue

Song: After the Storm, Mumford and Sons or Things That Stop Your Dreaming, Passenger OR pretty much anything U2

Candy: Coffee Crisp Bites. My addiction.

Restaurant: Meh. Not really a huge fan of most of them. 

Store: I really like American Eagle for their jeans but pretty much anything, I'm not fussy.

School: can't tell ya that!

Book: Gypsy King by Maureen Fergus is currently ma fave, but I read way too much to have just one.

Magazine: home organizing/decor. #dontjudge

Shoes: Moccasins 

Currently:

Feeling: Lazy and hungry

Single or Taken: Single

Eating: Nothing

Typing: This

Online: Obviously...

Listening To: Nothing. Previously, Lana Del Ray

Thinking About: Supper. 

Wanting: To not have to dust, wash my bedding, walk my dog, and have responsibilities.

Watching: The computer screen

Wearing: Pink cut-offs and a feather tank.

Future:

Want Children?: I don't want to give birth, but I'm thinking adopting is a good way to go.

Want to be Married: Eventually.

Careers in Mind: Writer, teacher, really have no idea.

Where do you want to live?: Somewhere warm with gorgeous scenery and not too many people.

Have you ever:

Kissed a Stranger: Nope...

Had Alcohol: Apart from trying sips, no

Smoked: No, and never.

Ran Away From Home: Yes! When I was very little. 

Broken a bone: No

Got an X-ray: Nope

Broken Someone's Heart: No

Broke Up With Someone: Kind of

Cried When Someone Died: Yes

Cried At School: No ... maybe? Not in public, anyways.

Do You Believe In:

God: Yes

Miracles: Yes

Love At First sight: Not sure

Ghosts: No

Aliens: No

Soul Mates: Yes

Heaven: Yes

Hell: In some form

Kissing on The First Date: Would have to actually experience this to judge.

Yourself: With some things, sometimes.

Brain Dump

I said that there would be two more vacation posts coming. Well, guess what? I lied. I'm not inspired at all to finish posting them, and by them I mean more frivolous commentary on some snapshots that take ten minutes each to upload on our internet speed, which I approximate to "dead snail". I feel constrained by this blog, oddly enough, like because it's my search for perfection I can't reveal any of the imperfections of my life, or, really, any of my personality. I'm not a perfect person. I'm not one of those polished, coiffed, graceful, every-minute-in-control people. I'm just not. And maybe I'll never be, and maybe, just maybe, I'm okay with that. So this is my brain dump. It doesn't have a subject. It may contain updates from my life, perhaps pictures, rants, sobfests, anger, and rancid dog vomit. Really. That's what I had to clean up yesterday. After I spent all this time vacuuming my carpet, dusting, washing bedding ... my dog walks up to me, looks me in the face, and throws up right on my carpet, two full cups of pasta salad, hardly chewed. I cleaned it up with paper towel and soap and water with no swearing and only simmering anger, but apparently it wasn't enough because the rancid smell is still in my room, and let me tell you, there is no worse smell. My life is not glamorous, people. Baking soda is my friend now. When I get off my butt and my computer and get out of my pyjamas and shower {maybe} and all those other things that I don't want to do but seem to always need doing.

Why does it seem like we can never enjoy the doing, but only the result? Never enjoy cleaning, just get through it by thinking about the reward of a clean space. Don't enjoy cleaning up dog vomit, but enjoy {or, rather, tolerate} a {mostly} dog-vomit free space. 

I'm stressed, too. I've decided to stay in dorm at my school in September, for at least one whole semester. On my own. Away from home. For four nights. Responsible for everything. It kind of excites me but scares me too. I don't know if I'm ready, and all my inadequacies seem to multiply when I think about it. 

I just don't know, and my head seems to be swimming with all these possibilities, responsibilities, personalities, flaws, and sometimes I think the best life would be to be a hermit in the hills, answering to no-one and discovering who you truly are. That sounds like heaven. 

Thanks for reading, whoever, wherever you are. I'm going to leave this on a slightly happier note with this picture I took from our cabin deck on holiday. 

Summer Road Trip Part 1

Hey everybody!

Today was my first day back from a wonderful and restful vacation. I'd like to claim that I did nothing ... but the truth is, I only did next to nothing. So the next 3 posts will be dedicated to what I did do. You might think this is horribly boring, but seeing as no-one seems to comment on this blog, it doesn't really matter anyways. 

First, here are some random pics I just snapped on the way to Kenora, which was our final destination. Driving through the prairie provinces were kind of flat, but beautiful, I thought. Or maybe I just want to flaunt my newfound love for my camera.

As we got more into Kenora, I amused myself by trying to snap pictures right as the vehicles passed my window. 

The ride didn't seem to take that long before we arrived at our cabin.

The outside was very pretty, I thought, and so was the greenery all around.

The inside, however ... 

{this shade of green was found seemingly everywhere, but never in the exact same shade. My feelings about this carpet are mixed, as it was delightfully squishy but rather hideous}

{The master bedroom closet/snazzy red capris}

{The living room: ugly floors + mismatched decor + too little in too much space = this}

{the master bedroom. I actually rather liked the wooden framing around the bed. The rest of it? Maybe not so much}

To be fair, there were things I liked, such as the hot tub IN the bedroom

The cool antique light switches found in certain parts of the cabin

And, as I said, the whole outside was beautiful, including the view out our window

And maybe not including our lovely beer umbrella {sorry, Molsen}

My bedroom was pretty special. It included three layers of bedding, all of which on their own weren't the nicest and together were ... well ... special.

{this dashing plaid print was found on the fitted and flat sheets, plus the pillowcases. I like to call it The Lumberjack}

{this light blue fleece was my favourite of all the bedding, because despite how it looks in this picture, it was a rather pretty baby blue, and, more to the point, it kept me from freezing my butt off in the mornings. I call it Bunny Hug}

{the top layer of the bedding was this wonderful beigy floral pattern. For obvious reasons, I call it Hotel}

{If you've been following along, this makes all the bedding together The Lumberjack Bunny Hug Hotel, which sounds like a good name for a hit single}

I shouldn't be so cynical, but I am. Anyways, it wasn't like the decor really bothered me, it was more funny than anything else, but I felt like it had to be pointed out. All in all, I can't complain because the cabin served it's main purpose: housing thousands of games of Dutch Blitz. If you haven't played it, go out and buy it right now. Then proceed to harbour a growing addiction, culminating in the moment when, at eleven at night, you try to bribe your family with chocolate to get them to keep playing, insisting that your seventeen game winning streak is about to end. 

That's part 1! Stay tuned for part 2, which is entitled: Out and About, rather originally I think. 

Angel

Introductions

Hey Everyone,

I say 'hey', although I know that most likely no-one will read this. And, if they do, they probably won't take the time to comment or anything. But that's okay. I'm not writing this blog for anyone other than myself, which is maybe how it should be. But I digress. Five sentences in and I'm already wandering.
Today I want to write down what this blog is really about. But before I can do that (hold the sighs, people) I need to talk a little bit about myself.

I could say that all my life I've been set apart, but that might not be the whole truth. A more accurate saying might be all my life I've FELT like I've been set apart, different. Sometimes in a good way: special, unique, gifted, smart--but also sometimes in a bad way--awkward, klutzy, "different" looking.

Over the many years, growing out of my painfully awkward puberty and gaining some much-needed thoughtfulness, I don't think I would trade being set apart for blending in. I won't go into detail about my childhood (perhaps later) but I feel like I'm better set up in most ways for being different.

One of the main aspects of my personality that has grown up through these years is perfectionism. What do we think of when we hear that word? Everything must be perfect. You'll work yourself to death trying to fix an unimportant detail. Anal-retentive. Frustrating. Takes forever to do anything.

Some of those apply to me. But in general, I feel I'm the worse kind of perfectionist. Oh yes, there are two kinds. The better kind is able to channel their perfectionism into hobbies, excelling at every one and persisting through any trial to come up with a high standard even they can be proud of.

The worse kind has the same instincts, the same standards, but a different work ethic, maybe it could be called. I'll start something with the highest hopes, work so hard at it, but then the minute something feels like it could go wrong or take a lot of work--POOF! Magical Mr. Negative-O appears. My personal failure coach.

"Wow, look at you? Feeling like quitting again, are you? Can't you finish anything? Look at all these successful, polished people around you with there lives under control. There must be something wrong with you if you can't even muster up the energy to put away your laundry. What are you going to do when you have to live on your own and clean a whole house? You failure. Why don't you just go downstairs, find the box of wafers in the top right hand shelf by the glass bowls, and eat yourself sick while watching cake boss reruns on youtube. After all, there's no point in trying anymore, is there? If you can't do it now you'll never be able to do this. And don't even think about starting something else. You don't have enough motivation to lift a feather with your toe. You're nothing but a lazy, fat, ugly, and annoying little girl and you'll never be anything else,"

I feel as though I must put a little context into this. I guess by most people's standards I wouldn't be a failure. From the outside, here is how I look:
-5'10", 130 lbs
-Dark blonde, medium length, wavy and thick hair
-Hazel eyes, a large-ish nose with a bump and regular lips {I guess. I think. I hope.}
-Has a good circle of close friends
-Nice, friendly after you get to know her, talkative {perhaps too much?}, generous
-Talented. Plays violin at the highest level there is {ARCT} and Piano Grade 10. Sings in a vocal jazz group, has perfect pitch, taught/will teach violin students. Is decent/somewhat good at art. Writes quickly and easily.
-Smart. Gets above 95% in all school subjects. Reads extremely fast, can type fast as well.

That's the outside. That's what people see. Maybe that's even what I try to project, or some of it at least. But on the inside--well--that's where my personal failure coach resides. I tend to not finish things I start. The reasons can sometimes be mixed. But Mr. Fail is definitely a big one. He is, I guess, most of the reason I'm taking up this blog.

I'm fifteen. The transition to adulthood, though it may seem far off to some, seems to loom closer and closer to me. I might stay in boarding school with my own room next year. And that is the first step. And I hope to get into an international school for the year after. Then I might be countries away from my family, continents even. And after that -- really and truly on my own. So really it only makes sense to begin preparing. To defeat my own personal inhibitions and learn what I can truly do. Planning ahead. Something I've always loved. This blog will document my struggles, hopefully my successes, and also my failures, as I set goals and experiment with new things on my journey to become the best I can be--and also to learn what perfect really means to me.

If you've read this far, I commend you. I only have one more thing left to say, and that is in regard to the name of my blog--The Fledgling Angel. I think that most of you have already figured out why I call it this, but I'll tell you anyways. One of my friends gave me the nickname of Angel. I can't really remember how, or, to tell the truth, why as I don't see myself as very angelic. {Another thing to strive for, perhaps?} But I like it. So, I've kept it. As for the fledgling part, well, that belongs to the journey I'm beginning into adulthood. Not a chick anymore, but not a bird either. A fledgling, perhaps one for too long, but who can blame anyone when the gap between the nest and the ground seems so big?

xoxo
Angel