Who am I?A recent graduate from York University with a Bachelor of Arts in English Literature & a Bachelor of Education
Vivacious What else? Responsible Experienced Dependable TechnicalCompassionate Organized Creative Conﬁdent Professional AmbitiousEducated Communicative Intelligent Enthusiastic Poetic Periodical Independent Idealistic
Creative Searching, frantic and careless, for inspiration in a bowl of cereal and a cup of tea, sitting on this sofa, night after night, staring at crooked pictures of what might have been. I am lost in a chasm of loneliness, with no light at the end of this tunnel. I crawl clumsily, scraping my hands on the pavement, leaving trails of blood and tears like pigeon crumbs. But no one follows them home. I crawl into my unmade bed, your pillow still waiting for your head to fall. I stay on my own side and tuck in my feet. I dream that I hear your car pull into the drive, and the rattle of your keys in the door. But you’re not coming home. You don’t even know where I live. It’s been two years, three months and two days and I still feel you crawling around inside of my mind. Tearingaway at my memories and conjuring up thoughts I’ve long since forgotten. Your voice resonates in my ears, and I can’tseem to shake the smell and taste of your skin. I recall every inch of your body, every freckle, every line around your eyes, and every crease in your smile. My heart holds tight to what my mind refuses to let go. And so I write about you when I’ve nothing else to say. I write about you to exhaust the pain, to extinguish the fire that still burns in my heart. Not for you, but for us and my life when the daily grind just didn’t seem to matter, because your arms were waiting for me. I write about you to cure the disease that resides in my belly, the hatred and anger of never really letting go. I write about you to remember, your love and our home, our couch and the armoire, the pictures in the kitchen we fought over and the new purple carpets.
Creative The air was awash with the sweet smell of coffee, biscotti and crisp winter air. He walked in;head held high as usual and brushed the winter off his jacket. She caught her breath and smiled as he approached her. He was, as always, seemingly oblivious to the power he had over her heart. But even the coffees they ordered were a reminder of how different they’re lives had become. His was a strong, bold and full bodied Irish Cream with milk and a sweetener. Hers was a sweet, frothy caramel delight. She tried to focus on everything but his smile. The sweet sounds of Etta James filled the background, and she tried effortlessly to forget how good she felt wrapped up in his arms lastnight. “Focus on the music” she whispered out loud, “And you just might forget his smile”. Etta James’ sweet croons of true love ring bittersweet in her ears. The mesh covered lamps were a cruel reminder of how trapped she felt sitting so close to the man of her dreams, yet feeling so restricted. Like the Christmas decorations forgotten in thewindow, he forgot how to love her back. Neglected and broken, she hung from his every word, her feeble heart pinned to her sleeve for the whole world to see. They embraced in the snow and she held on a little too tight and a little too long. Wishing fornothing but a kiss, she pulled away, gave him a smile and walked back to her car. “Focus on the music” she whispers to herself “And you just might forget his smile”.
ExperiencedCubicle life is not as glorious as the job offer makes it out to be. A decent salary, three weeks paid vacation and a benefits packagedressed to the nines can’t quiet the incessant need to scream, to break the monotonous silence that fills the crowded room. Gorgeouswomen in expensive high heel shoes tap out broken melodies as they glide through the atrium, with leafy salads and bottles of PC wateron their trays. The young men stare in wonderment and the old men don’t even seem to take notice.The air smells like freshly baked cookies and freshly brewed coffee. A scent that I’m sure they have carefully selected to induce feelingsof comfort and safety in this anxiety ridden community. The water feature that stands out like a black sheep in this world full of lambs,attempts to soothe uneasy minds with its tranquil sounds. I am not fooled by the placebos they have placed around the building. I can seethrough them and their attempt to create a harmonious environment. The reality is, they do nothing but suck up unnecessary energy andtake up ample chair and table space. The chair lined window offers an inviting place to sit. The chair that I have chosen to sit on is not ascomfortable as it looks. The legs are too short and my body feels oddly contorted. The material is soft against my skin, but the color isdrab and lifeless. I don’t like sitting here but have decided that this is the best place in the building to people watch. I can remaininconspicuous, blending in with my laptop in tow. The laptop is a status symbol in this building, and we are judged by the apparatus wecarry. I don’t have a Blackberry so I’m not paid as well as my boss, but I’m pretty sure I work more hours then he does.
Experienced I am surrounded by a sea of young, fresh, barely ripened bodies, swirling around in a mass of confusion and mayhem. I’m notsure what I’m doing here expect I know I stick out like a sore thumb. Sitting on a bench, trying desperately to appear inconspicuousbut the lines around my eyes and my outfit give away my age. Effortlessly, they strut around in designer jeans and handbags,blending together, becoming one entity. Originality is lost as they all strive to fit it. This hallway is quieter than I expected, and the solitude I unexpectedly find myself in makes me feel lonely, and suddenly verysad. I am bound by a space that I despise, despite the fact that I love being here. Every day that I spend at this school is just anothercruel and painful reminder of the fate that brought me here. Every lecture, every paper, and every bit of knowledge gained onlyserves to remind me of what I’ve lost in the process. The students continue to shuffle by, never picking up their feet and barely even noticing the girl sitting on the bench, watchingtheir every more. On campus, I am invisible. On campus, I am unknown. On campus, I am a fly on the wall, envious of everyonewho walks by. On campus, I am just another story yet to be written, but dying to be told. My story, like everyone’s story, is a sad story. A boy meets girl, heart breaking, gut wrenching, make you wanna cry kind ofstory that most people have heard again and again. No one really wants to hear my story. But I tell it anyways, to anyone who’lllisten because it makes me feel better. But mostly because I’ve always been one for a pity party. Well, put on your party hat folks,because this one’s a doozey!!
Professional Spectacular golf for all ages It’s 7:30am on a Saturday. The morning sun is warm on your face. The dew glistens like diamonds on the freshly trimmed grass. Getting out of bed this early on a Saturday is usually the last on your list of things to do, but with your golf bag swung over your shoulder, somehow this feels like vacation. Click the below link for full article:http://packurbags.wordpress.com/2012/02/06/spectacular-golf-for-all-ages/
Professional Lifestyle meets luxury at The EsplanadeLocated in the heart of sunny Palm Beach Gardens, Florida is a spectaculargated community that surpasses all others. The community of Mirasol is the ultimate in family, fun, ﬁtness, and natural beauty. Click the below link for full article: http://packurbags.wordpress.com/2012/01/31/lifestyle-meets-luxury-at-the-esplanade/
Technical When quality mattersEvery company would like to improve the way it operates, especially when it comes to improving customer satisfaction. As customers become more technical, better informed and sophisticated, their overall expectations will undoubtedly increase. The only way to keep up with your customersexpectations is to offer a better commitment to quality. ISO 9001 is by far an international leading, quality framework provider. Trusted by over 750,000 people worldwide, ISO 9001 delivers like no other. Click the below link for full article: http://canuckwriter.hubpages.com/hub/When-Quality-matters
Technical The framework for effectively managing your business and meeting all of your clients ever-growing demands starts with ISO 9001. Every organization would like to improve they way they operate. Whether it is by increasing market share, managing risk more cost effectively, or driving down operating costs, a quality management system plays an integral part in reaching these operation goals. Click the below link for full article:http://canuckwriter.hubpages.com/hub/Nine-Thousand-and-One-in-a-million
Periodical “...Long work days, too much extra curricular activities and an abundance of housework rarely leaves time for adequate sleep each night. Bed times get later; mornings come quicker and the time we spend awake gets longer...”http://www.squidoo.com/the-power-of-the-power-nap
Periodical “....Three things are guaranteed to happen in North American this summer: It will finally stop snowing in Ontario (well…maybe), children every where will rejoice in the commencement of summer vacation, and millions of people will have “Harry Potter” fever in July......” Click the below link for full article:http://www.squidoo.com/the-harry-potter-phenomenon
PoeticZenithYour hands are rough and strong whiteAgainst my white skinBut the softness invisible to your world Of your lips blending into wallsIn the crook of my neck and white linen Distract me lies pierce my lipsYour eyes twinkle and fake smiles fade quicklyLike the sun dances off the lake into the night, I follow youAnd your smile drifting on your breeze Invites meInto your warm room blow kisses that miss meWrap me up in softness, but land on her cheekWhite blankets and slippers, can you see me standingAnd keep me safe here or thereUntil morning forces me back waitingMiles away blendingYet your body still lingers white in the night Attached to my hip wanting to be seenAnd your breath is still warm on my cheek
Poetic thief in the night my bed is still warm in the spot where you laid running your fingers through my hairhow i long for a few more minutes, your breath on my pillow long gone and the scent of you has faded into the nightpoetry on my walls scream tears and burn flesh down my cheeks as I cry out for you, but sadly you have gone againmy body aches for you, my heart contorts and my soul bends, in hopes of finding a way to fit the likes of you into the love of me I have memorized the sound of you leaving, descending down from this high that wasonce you and I, and as your footsteps shuffle past me every day I begin to wish we had never met againI wrap my lips around your lies and savor the taste of your sorrow, while I try to convince myself that I understand youve never been mine to begin with Now that all hopes of us are gone, washed away by someone elses sin, my body aches and my heart longs for the love that we last made in haste.