[Ellie's Story] Buying & Bills

I stood underneath a store awning to avoid the rain and waited at the corner of Broadway Street and Cambie Street, watching the bustle of everyone rushing to get home after the day’s work. Street traffic was just starting to get dense, and the cars were slowing down in speed, unable to move any faster than a crawl. I nursed two Starbucks cups in both hands, enjoying their warmth as I kept an eye out for Sacha, who had promised to help me shop for a TV this Friday evening.

It wasn’t long before I spotted a familiar figure in a long charcoal grey overcoat matched with a navy knit scarf heading towards me. I looked up and smiled at Sacha, offering one of the coffee cups I held. Seeing the sparkling droplets sprinkled over his dark brown hair, I smiled at my friend whom I’ve known since my university days.

“Leave your umbrella at home?” I chided, opening my own after Sacha took the coffee from my hand.

“No – at work, actually,” he responded, taking a quick sip from the cup. “Thanks. This is exactly what I needed after schlepping around in this…stuff.” He grimaced, looking down at his black leather shoes, covered with slushy snow melted by the rain. “I think I preferred the freezing cold of yesterday. At least the snow was still solid.”

I looked at Sacha’s shoes, tilting my head in thought. “You need man boots.”

“Yes, and those would go really well with my dress pants. I thought you were supposed to be good with fashion, Ellie,” Sacha said, taking the umbrella from my hand since I was having trouble holding it six feet above the ground to accommodate his height. “I hope you’re not writing about men’s fashion in your next blog entry.”

I gave Sacha a glare. “Hey, I could…if I wanted.”

“Then do your readers a favour and make sure I approve of it before you hit ‘Post’.” Sacha raised his eyebrows, the corners of his mouth curled upward in a growing smile.

Or a smirk. The smug bastard.

I squinted my eyes at him, trying to look evil. “I’m not one of your subordinates, mister. Don’t treat me like one of your office clerks. I don’t need you to approve anything,” I said, trying to sound as cocky as he looked.  

“Sorry shorty. It’s just that you look a bit like our new marketing assistant. I get you two confused sometimes.”

“You snob,” I simply retorted, unable to outwit Sacha for the gazillionth time. “I don’t know why I still hang out with you.”    

“Because you need to learn better banter,” Sacha said matter-of-factly, not missing a beat. “And, because I know my electronics.”

We walked north along Cambie Street, heading for the Best Buy near 6^th Street. Jokes aside, we moved the conversation along to what kind of a TV I’d like to buy, and what brands were the best. Even though Sacha was good with electronics, I was hesitant to buy anything based on specs alone. I explained that I really wanted to make sure that this new TV fit into my apartment, unlike the last one, which apparently was top-of-the-line, but was way too big for our apartment – courtesy of David’s decision.

“It needs to look nice with my TV stand,” I stated. “I need to visually like it.”

“Pun intended?”

“No. Um…yes. Geez – I dunno,” I mumbled. We had just walked into the Best Buy and I was overwhelmed by the bright lights and goods displayed everywhere. We headed towards the section with televisions. The store was relatively quiet since it was mid-January, way past the boxing week sales madness. Sacha and I walked down the first row of televisions displayed and was quickly approached by a sales person, eager to help.

“Looking for a TV? For the house? Or a spare room?” he asked. He was an older man in his late forties or early fifties who spoke with a mild accent.

“Uh…neither,” I replied.

“It’s for an apartment,” Sacha interjected. “We’re looking for something between  42 to 50 inches, maybe plasma, 1080p.”

I nodded dumbly, trusting Sacha on…almost everything to do with this television except for its size and visual appeal. I had sworn to make myself do some research beforehand, but dealing with a breakup during the holidays had taken up all of my energy. And now, all I really cared to do is cuddle up on the couch with a new TV, drinking a cup of warm cocoa, my cat snuggled up next to me, and not worry about how it all came to be, 1080p or not.

“We have some good ones on sale,” the salesperson said, snapping me out of my reverie. He walked us over to one television set. “This one is good one, 46 inches, 1080p, plasma display…”

Sacha looked at the label sticker on the set. “Hmm. 120 hertz.” He looked over at me. “You still gaming a lot?”

“What’s ‘a lot’?” I asked. “Maybe once a week? Is that considered a lot?” I ventured.

“Enough to warrant getting something better.”  He turned to the salesperson again. “Do you have anything with 240 hertz?”

I had no idea what Sacha was talking about. Should have done my research, I thought to myself. I focused on some of the other sets that were sitting on the shelves that looked kind of pretty.

“If you need 240 hertz, then I would recommend you getting this one,” he said, pointing to another television set. This one was enormous. “This one is one of our customer favourites.”

Sacha walked over to check out the set.

“It’s huge, Sacha. It would never fit on my stand.”

“It’s 50 inches,” he replied, inspecting the base. “It’s not too bad…it might.”

“Yes, the man knows what he wants,” the salesperson said, winking at me in jest. “We shouldn’t get in the way of a man and his TV.”

      “But it’s going to be my TV,” I said, trying to smile politely.

“Ah,” he said to Sacha with a smile and an understanding look, “I hope the miss isn’t going to fight with you for the remote control.”

Sacha cleared his throat, looking over at me. Should I correct him, or will you? was his silent question to me.

“We’re not together,” I said. No smile now.

Somehow, people always thought Sacha and I were a couple. After half a decade of being friends, it was getting tiresome correcting people. Sacha had told me once that this happened to him all the time, no matter what girl he was with, so obviously it was a problem with him and not me. Maybe he just had the typical “boyfriend” look.

The salesperson sobered. “Oh. I’m sorry miss,” he said, looking from me to Sacha. “You two looked like…”

“It’s okay, don’t worry about it,” Sacha said. He quickly changed the topic. “So do you have anything smaller? The ‘miss’ says this one is too big.”

 Fifty minutes later, we were out of the store, with the order and delivery receipts safely tucked in my purse. Based on my budget, I had decided on a 46 inch

 LED television, 1080p and 120 hertz. But most importantly, it would look good with my TV stand. We headed towards Broadway Street again, to find ourselves some dinner.

“Thanks for your help Sacha. It’s great having someone knowledgeable to help me shop. Dinner’s my treat. What do you feel like?”

“Anything,” he said. “I’m starving and can eat a cow.”

“Sorry,” I said to Sacha, “I didn’t realize how late it was.” I quickened my pace to allow him to walk faster. Being much taller than me, Sacha had larger strides and usually slowed down to accommodate my much shorter, Asian-sized strides. I was always struggling to keep pace with him, even though I considered myself a relatively fast walker.

We decided on a sushi restaurant close by, and I readily warmed myself up with the hot matcha tea that was served.

“So how are you doing being alone nowadays?” Sacha asked as we got settled into our seats.

“I’m fine,” I replied. “It’s nice having the place to myself sometimes, being able to toss everything everywhere without a care to what anyone thinks. You know how David was always super neat and tidy.”

Sacha smiled. “Okay, don’t invite me over. I don’t want to see piles of clothes and garbage strewn about.”

“Hey, I’m not that bad!” I defended myself. “But I am worried about my finances.”

“Spending too much?”

“No. Just…a larger mortgage payment now that David’s gone,” I admitted.

Sacha studied me while taking a drink from his tea cup. “If you have no money, then why did you just buy a TV twenty minutes ago?”

“Because I need entertainment! Having a TV is stress-relieving. And I need to relieve pressure,” I emphasized. “C’mon, you should know about that. You’re a guy.” Then I looked closely at Sacha’s finely tailored shirt and high-end cashmere scarf. “Or maybe not. You’re metro.”

“You say that like I’m gay or something.”

“You mean you’re not?” I began to smile, not able to help myself. “Sorry, it’s just that you sort of look like this gay friend that I have. I get confused sometimes,” I retorted, pleased with myself for my late comeback.

Sacha laughed in mock amusement. “You don’t have a gay friend, Ellie. And despite what you think, I’m not it.”

“Not yet,” I grinned at him, trying to look innocent while administering the coup de grâce.

Sacha rolled his eyes, smiling for real this time. The truth was, he was far from being gay, and we both knew it. With his blue eyes and dark hair, Sacha had classic good looks worthy of a Polo ad. As such, Sacha always had a line of girls for dates. The fact that he worked in marketing at a large firm and had tickets to all of the cool client-sponsored events in town certainly kept them coming. Ironically, other than a few dates here and there, Sacha was still single. Of the time I’ve known him since second-year university, Sacha hadn’t dated a girl for longer than six months. I figured that this was due to the fact that his standards were too high. Sometimes I wondered how he ever accepted me as his best female friend, he was so damn picky.  

“Okay, enough jokes about my sexual orientation. Back to the TV,” Sacha said. “Explain why you need one if you’re so short on money.”

“Like I said, it relieves my stress. Believe it or not, being an admin assistant has its pressures too.”

“I don’t doubt that, Ellie. I’m just asking you if you really need a TV for now. Maybe you could hold that off until you save some money.”

“No,” I insisted, “it’s important.” My voice was sombre as I looked at the grains of wood in the table, running my fingers along each line. “Since David left,” I started, thinking of the right way to articulate my thoughts, “the apartment feels…empty.” I looked up at Sacha briefly, unsure he if would laugh at me and tell me that I was being silly. “And I think having something to do, and some lights and sounds in the apartment would fill some of that void.”

Sacha was silent. His right elbow was propped on the table, index finger held up against his nose and chin resting on his thumb. This was his usual “thinking” pose whenever he was deep in thought or evaluating someone. I always wondered if the L-shape that his finger and thumb subsequently made was his private way of calling somebody a loser.

“Could you get a roommate?” he asked.

“That’s exactly what Madison said. I’m hesitant to, which is what I told her too.”

“Because you’re so messy?”

I gave Sacha my evil eye, for the second time tonight. “Like I said, I’m not that messy. Just because you’re a minimalist doesn’t make everyone else a slob. Some of us like to have stuff around us. You know, like furniture and belongings. You ever hear about those?” I referenced the fact that Sacha hardly owned anything. At least, nothing that he displayed in his spiffy loft apartment.

“Sure, coming from the girl who doesn’t even have a TV or a coffee table. I at least have those,” Sacha said.

“Yeah, but that’s all you have. Your place seriously needs a woman’s touch.” I said. “Or actually, anyone’s touch.”

Sacha just chuckled and shook his head. “My place is fine, Ellie. I know having a television is helpful, but so is having a healthy chequing account. If after a few months, you’re not having any extra money to save, then you should look into other options. Like a roommate.”

“Extra money to save? Geez, Sacha, I might not even have money to pay my bills!”

Sacha drank his tea, looking at me seriously. “Room. Mate.”

I threw the floppy laminated menu at him. “Order your food. I’ll think about it.”

On my way home from dinner, I went to check my mailbox. Out fluttered a few flyers, some coupon books and a few undistinguished envelopes. I grabbed everything and went up to my apartment, flipping through them. I got to the envelopes by the time I stepped inside my apartment. I looked at them, sighing.

Mastercard bill. Hydro bill. Internet bill. I threw them on top of my Visa bill which was already sitting on the counter. I opened them, looking at the amounts. I sighed again.

“Roommate indeed,” I muttered to myself.

~ To Be Continued ~ 

[Ellie's Blog] The Perfect Benny: Arms Reach Bistro

As a tribute to the new year, the humble beginning of my blog, and the possibilities that lie ahead, I’ve decided that the first post will be about something that symbolizes fresh starts and new beginnings: breakfast!

The fact is, I love brunch. Not only is the timing ideal, allowing me to enjoy my weekend sleep-ins, but the variety is huge! From country-style to fine dining, whatever tickles my fancy that morning only tastes better with eggs & carbs. 

Despite the variety, I inevitably find myself ordering the classic brunch dish, eggs benedict, over and over. Perhaps I am a creature of habit, but the soft, runny poached eggs over a variety of toppings (which typically involves a protein or two to appease my inner carnivore) and toasted English muffin, smothered with Hollandaise sauce (which every place makes a different self-proclaimed perfect version of) calls to me like cascades of harp music. Heaven!

To start off The Perfect Benny, a series chronicling my search for, well, the perfect Benny, I caught up with a girlfriend over brunch last weekend at Arms Reach Bistro, situated in quaint, little Deep Cove in North Vancouver.

The atmosphere is classy and grown-up, quiet enough to have long, private conversations over coffee. Try and get a window seat, the view is very “North Shore”.

I had their Timo’s Benedict, with onions and smoked salmon, served with hashbrowns. I enjoyed the crisp crunch of the onions, but didn’t get the full smoked salmon flavour I was so looking forward to. Some bites I forgot it was there! However, the day was saved by the wonderful Hollandaise sauce; creamy with no graininess whatsoever, and a subtext of…something nutty. I couldn’t put my finger on what the secret ingredient was, but it made the sauce delicious.

If you go, I’d suggest leaving some extra time afterwards to walk around the area as you digest. The view from the pier is beautiful and there are little shops where you may stumble upon treasures.

Although I wouldn’t necessarily make the trek to Arm’s Reach Bistro for the food alone, the whole Deep Cove package (and the delicious Hollandaise sauce!) makes for a great lazy Sunday, so the itinerary is one I would repeat and recommend to friends.

[Ellie's Story] Broke 'n' Down

       The holidays were officially over. The Christmas decorations at work and all around the stores and streets have been taken down and everyone was moving with a duller energy typical of any other winter day. I had also taken down my mini Christmas tree and the strings of lights around my apartment window. I remembered that it had only been two months ago when David and I had put everything up, in early celebration of our first Christmas in our new place. 

       How things have changed in a mere sixty days.

       With all of the Christmas decorations in a 30” x 30” moving box (miraculously, with the tree included), I shoved it over to the corner of the spare bedroom, which was still largely unfurnished. It was supposed to have been David’s  home office since he usually brought a lot of work home. All that was left in there now was a small shelf that had originally belonged to me. David had taken everything else with him after our breakup.

       Our breakup had felt like a divorce. After having been together for seven years and living together for almost a year, our lives were so intertwined amongst our family, friends and even personal belongings, that our breakup had felt like tearing off limbs in the separation process. It definitely tore off pieces of our hearts, along with our mutual trust. At least, it did on my part.   

I dusted off my hands, closed the door to the spare bedroom and evaluated the rest of my apartment. David had taken the black glass-top coffee table, the matching dining table set, and a large mahogany bookcase. I was left with our charcoal loveseat, a small hallway shelf and our TV stand – minus the TV. David had taken that too. All that was left on the TV stand was my Playstation 3, along with a few games, and some DVDs and CDs.

I walked over to the window and peeked out through my blinds. It was grey outside, the thick clouds preventing the evening sun from penetrating through. The Italian restaurant across the street was already starting to receive early dinner patrons, dining leisurely before spending what was most likely their Saturday night out on the town.

 I had also kept the floor lamp in our “divorce”, which I now turned on. It lit my small two-bedroom apartment with a cozy warm glow, making it feel less empty than it was. Now that I was officially single, I spent most of my weekends at home. The past few weekends alone had entailed me cleaning up the place, packing up any residual things of David’s and dealing with the legal paperwork of changing the apartment’s ownership to my name, mortgage and all. Some of the paper copies were still on the kitchen counter. I hadn’t had the emotional energy to put that away yet. At the top of the pile was a thick brown envelope from the law firm – in it, I knew, were the final copies of the signed papers, stating my ownership of this apartment.

I sighed inwardly, knowing that I should be putting that all away safely somewhere. I walked over, picking up the brown envelope – still unopened, and put in it in my purse, where I decided would drop it into my safety deposit box at the bank tomorrow. My eyes glanced toward the paper pile again, noting the small sheet of scrap paper that now sat at the top. I picked it up, reading the numbers scrawled on it in my handwriting:

Monthly Budget

               

Salary minus deductions: $2217

Mortgage payment: $1470

Maintenance fees: $260

Telephone: $32

            Cable & Internet: $75

            Utilities: $82

Cell Phone Bill: $65

Typical Groceries: $180

            Balance Remaining: $53

 

I remembered this to be the balance sheet that I had written over a month ago, after the initial shock of the breakup with David was over. I had panicked then about whether or not I could afford to keep the apartment. I had figured at the time that without David, I could probably cancel our landline and reduce our cable and internet bill usage. Even utilities would be slightly less since I wouldn’t be using as much electricity as the two of us combined, especially now that his home office was gone. I put the scrap of paper down and looked at my credit card bills which were sitting on top of my counter.

“Now’s as good a time as ever,” I muttered to myself. “Might as well deal with all the bad stuff in one shot.”

I opened my Visa bill and peeked at my balance: $305.86.

“Not bad,” I told myself. I moved onto my Mastercard bill. And gasped.

Balance: $979.36        

“Crap!” I yelled. What the heck did I buy this month?  My eyes scrolled down the itemized list of stores. I mentally rehashed what I bought at each location. Dinner, luxury bath soap, blue sweater, lunch, coffee, china tea set, jeans on sale, matching top, dinner again, new vacuum cleaner, groceries, nail polish…

“Oh right,” I groaned. “I was Christmas shopping all last month.”   

I sat down on my sofa and looked around my empty apartment. “And I still have all this stuff to buy!” I groaned to myself. What was I going to do?

I picked up my cell phone and texted my best friend Madison. “Going to be broke on a single income. Save me,” I typed.

“Hey, u get paid more than I do,” she texted back a couple of minutes later.

“I’m stuck, with D gone,” I replied. My phone bleeped again.

“Wanna talk over brunch tomorrow?”

“Yes. Where and when?”

“Call ya tmrw ;)”

I put my phone down and breathed a sigh of relief. My dear Madison would know what to do.

             .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  . 

I met with Madison on Sunday morning at a quiet place called Arm’s Reach in North Vancouver. She had to visit her parents and was in that area anyway. I hadn’t been in North Vancouver in a while, so I didn’t mind making the Seabus trip across the Burrard Inlet. Madison picked me up from the Seabus terminal and drove us to Arm’s Reach, where we sat by the window seat. The morning sun was out in full force and we could feel its welcome heat on our paled winter faces.

By now, Madison’s summer freckles had lightened on her porcelain skin, and the sunlight made her almond-shaped light brown eyes appear even lighter. Her light brown hair shimmered with the tiniest hint of strawberry blonde. I smiled at the friend I’ve known since elementary school. There were times that Madison didn’t even look half Chinese. Sometimes I had to remember that she was, even though I’ve known her forever.  

I ordered my usual (and my favourite): Eggs Benedict. I decided that getting a bit of comfort food would be good today.

Waiting for our orders, Madison and I juggled with my options after I told her that I might be facing a fifty-three dollar balance at the end of each month. I didn’t even want to tell her how bad my credit card bills looked.

“Could you get a roommate?”

“Like who? Some stranger?  That would be difficult.” I shook my head. “Unless you’d want to be my roommate?” I looked at her with my best puppy-dog-eyes expression.

“Aw, Ellie. Don’t do that to me. You know my piddly salary. I wouldn’t be able to afford sharing your rent downtown. Rooming with my cousin on the east side is hard enough, even with the family discount.”

I stared out at the beautiful view of Deep Cove, allowing my thoughts to drift out with the flowing waves of Burrard Inlet.

“Is there any way that you could spend less? Don’t go out so much?”

I looked at Madison. “That would be no fun. My job requires de-stressing.”

She evaluated me for a bit before responding. “Yeah, you’re right. You’re quite the active gal. Asking you to stay home all day is like asking your cat to ignore catnip.”

I laughed. “C’mon! I’m not that severe. Mo is addicted to catnip like a heroin addict. Unlike him, I have some self control.”

“Is that with the video games or the eating out that you’re talking about?” Madison replied, with a twinkle in her eye.

I slumped my shoulders and squinted my eyes at her in mock evil, acknowledging her point. “Both,” I retorted. “I’m a girl with many interests, okay?”

Madison smiled sweetly. “I know. That’s why we’re friends.”

Our server arrived with our food, and I whole-heartedly immersed myself in my Eggs Benedict, allowing the taste of the special house Hollandaise sauce to distract me from my troubles.

“Could your parents help you?”

I shook my head. “I wouldn’t want to ask…I am an adult. I should really try to be independent. They already helped with some of the down payment, which I promised I’d pay back one day. I couldn’t ask them for more. In fact, I should be paying them a monthly family allowance, if I was a good Chinese daughter.” I chewed hard on my hash brown. “Which I’m apparently not,” I added ruefully.

“I understand.” She sighed. “Well then that settles it,” she said, taking a large bite out of her grilled chicken sandwich. “Like it or not, you’re going to have to get yourself a roommate.”

I swallowed my hash brown with a large gulp of water, seeing the pragmatic expression on Madison’s face and knowing deep down that she was right.

I sighed. First my mom, and now my best friend.

Why were people always right?!

 - To Be Continued - 

[Ellie's Story] New Year, New Beginnings

    “Ellie, you’ve been telling me about this forever. Why don’t you just go ahead and do it?” my mom said to me. “It’s a new year and maybe that’s the right time to start afresh.”

       I chewed on my lip, knowing that my mom was right. I mumbled something that sounded like mild agreement. I hated when she made sense.

       “You used to love this time of year. You were always so excited to begin new projects,” my mother continued. “But lately, you’ve just been complaining about the things you haven’t done. How hard is it to start one anyway? It seems like everyone is doing it. Mrs. Poon was just telling me that her son’s been making lots of money off of his. What was it about again? Something on limited edition running shoes or something....”

       “Well, I might not be as good as Jack at it,” I muttered. “He’s kind of a whiz at computers.”

       “But isn’t it all about the writing?”

       My mom was, yet again, bang on, in more ways than the obvious. Writing a blog was about the writing, and for me, the writing was especially important because I love writing. I didn’t want to just start a blog to make money off of sponsor ads or just to kill time at nights. I had mentioned to my mom about starting a blog because I enjoyed the writing process and wanted to make a living – and eventually a career- out of it. And although I’ve known this for a couple of years now, I still haven’t started writing much.  Being an aspiring writer doesn’t mean much when you haven’t  been writing anything substantial. I let out a deep sigh.

       “Yeah, I know mom, it is about the writing,” I finally replied. “I’ll work on it, I promise.”

Who knew that a simple long-distance phone call to wish my parents a happy new year would end up being a personal wake-up call?

I ended the conversation, feeling contemplative. I wasn’t sure if I felt more bummed or inspired. Sure, like any other 25-year old, there were things in life that I wanted for myself. Things like a great, high-powered career and a four-bedroom house in the suburbs. But those things would take time to achieve. Luckily, my life wasn’t empty either, I reminded myself. I had a job that sustained me and a hugely supportive network of friends and family. And most importantly, I had my health and a good, working brain. I know these weren’t things that most people prided themselves on, but hey, for those who don’t have them, it’s important.

Despite this, there were definitely things that were missing in my life that caused a little gnawing ache in my chest. I took this as a hint that some changes needed occurring in my life. New Year’s guilt, anyone? I thought to myself. Good grief.

With that last thought, my brain clicked. Yes, Ellie, this is the year that you should be making changes for yourself, for the betterment of your aching chest if not for anything else, I told myself. (Who knew - maybe this was the real cause of heart attacks.) 

All this means that I would have to start improving on the things that I needed to improve on, and start working on reaching my goals…once I settled on what they were exactly. I focused on my life, at present.  Let’s call it my 2011 balance sheet:

  

Things I Have (in no specific order of importance)

1.)    A fulltime job as an admin assistant that paid for my bills, allowed me to put 20% into my savings account, and left some extra for splurges and goodies.

2.)    A cute two-bedroom apartment downtown - mortgaged, with one bedroom currently vacant.

3.)    Dedicated parents, hugely supportive in an Asian way (mostly monetary), albeit physically missing since they reside in Hong Kong.

4.)    Fabulous friends who support me in a spiritual way (non-monetary), some of whom I’ve known for over a decade.

5.)    A two-year old cat that had long black fur with a white chest and paws, with adoring puppy-dog eyes that always seemed to make me feed him at will. (His will, not mine.) 

Things I Don’t Have (again, in no order of importance)

1.)    A fulfilling career as a writer, since this stirred my passions a lot more than a career as the firm’s un-official office slave.

2.)    My own personal form of transportation. (The bus does not count, even if I am on occasion the only person to ride on it when I come home late at nights.)

3.)    Extra spare time to write.

4.)    Opportunities to travel all over the world (which might include exotic locales so that I could write on the beach with a margarita in hand).

5.)    A winning lottery ticket that would allow me to pursue my dreams and interests without worrying about the bills, thereby fulfilling needs #2, 3 and 5, collectively.

6.)    A stable and loving boyfriend (hopefully with good looks, romantic inclinations and a hefty bank account to boot).

7.)    The stamina and dedication to do all that stuff I promised myself that I would do last year, one of which was starting my own blog. (Ha! At least this one was being taken care of.)

8.)    A Gucci purse.

Okay, fine. That last item is admittedly shallow, but I’ve secretly always wanted one since I saw one on an episode of The Hills.

I looked again at the second half of my list, and highlighted the few things that truly mattered to me: writing, time, and travelling, which when I thought about it, probably included experiencing the city itself. After having lived in Vancouver for so many years, there were still a lot of things I haven't discovered about my hometown. I concluded that these were easy goals to focus on this year. I just needed to dedicate some time (which ironically was a goal in itself) to work on them.

So, I’ll need to start writing more. A lot more. Even if it’s not about much, I’ll need to make myself committed to writing as a means to an end, which is to be a writer who will actually produce some written work for some money. Hopefully.

I turned on my computer and opened my web browser, typing in the URL that was to be my goal and my new companion, starting today. I entered all of the registration details, filling in the profile details afterwards. I chose a few design elements, and in a mere hour or so, I was looking at my new baby: 

www.pieces-of-ellie.blogspot.com 

Without hesitation, I began to write:

"Wow! The idea to start a blog has rolled around in my head for quite
some time and I've daydreamed on multiple occasions about what I would share with my readers…"

    ~ To Be Continued ~

[Ellie's Blog] First Post

Wow! The idea to start a blog has rolled around in my head for quite some time and I've daydreamed on multiple occassions about what I would share with my readers. But now that I'm actually staring at this empty space with my fingers perched on home row, I'm a bit at a loss for words. Where do I start?

Hello! My name is...
Ellie.

I am in my twenties and share an apartment with my cat, MoMo. Like MoMo, I am passionate and easily amused (we also share a fondness for afternoon naps!). Rather than a focused study of one topic, my vision for this blog is to present a sampler tin of the things that have captured my thoughts and feelings.

In the random chaos of the universe and internet, I'm so glad our paths have crossed. Welcome and please make yourself at home.