Why I’ll Never Be a Hipster

Do you ever feel like you have something to say, but you have no idea what it is? Or maybe you do, but you don’t want anyone to know?

I do. Actually, I think I have my whole life, but I am particularly becoming aware of it this week.

But it’s silly, right? The Internet has exploded because everyone somewhere has something to say, whether it’s on Facebook, Youtube, Twitter, Tumblr, Instagram, and blogs doing what I call the “Starbucks” — there seems to be one on every corner.

With all of these outlets for speech at our fingertips, how could we possibly feel like we’re not being heard or that if we said what we wanted to say, it would be ridiculed?

I mean, look at that person. They just came right out and said it. Now they’re a meme. Why can’t I be more like that person with the added bonus of correct English?

Here’s my problem:

I’d like to think that I’m unique. That I stand out amongst people my age as far as my interests go. That maybe I’m a starter of new currents to flow into, rather than a coaster.

I would like to be a hipster. There it is!

It would be great if I could take artsy photographs that inspire people or listen to bands no one has ever heard of or not care about what people think of me or to understand politics and actually have an opinion about it.

But I like too much stuff. And it’s not always the greatest stuff either. Or, at least, according to our world, it isn’t. However, I’d like to think that they don’t get to decide what I like, so I feel a confession time approaching.

#1: I just realized who Joe Biden is yesterday. And I still don’t really care.

“Well, fine then. I don’t like you either.”

#2: I like every single Taylor Swift song I’ve ever heard. Yes, even that “Never Ever Ever” one.
Oh, and…that Justin Beiber song “As Long As You Love Me” , mmm-hmm. Lurve it.
Although she might rock this look better…maybe.

#3: I made an account for Instagram yesterday and Youtube this morning. Just in case you weren’t feeling exposed enough to my life.
Just like that, only more jolly.

#4: I have arguments with myself in my head. For example…

Carly #1: Maybe I should start taking a shower every day. Nahh, too much work. And more expensive.
Carly #2: Ending up in the hospital with a kidney infection is also a lot of work. (But not more expensive. Canadian Healthcare, WHAT UPPPP? *mental high five*)
Carly #1: Well, a LOT of people don’t take a shower every single day. I mean, look at the 1500s – most people were lucky if they got a bath once a year and they survived!
Carly #2: Yeah, that Bubonic Plague wasn’t too bad. Your call.

Literally in the space of 15 seconds. And the jury is still out.

#5: The other day, I made blueberry muffins and chicken corn chowder from scratch. I felt so fulfilled, I almost cried.
Yes, yes they do.

#6: I have watched 3 seasons of Dexter and loved. every. minute. What is wrong with me?
Maybe not wildly excited, but certainly intrigued.

#7: I read People magazine. But only when it’s like, “Oh, I guess I have to cause I’m waiting at the dentist or the doctor’s or whatever.” But seriously, if there’s a pile of mags to choose from and they include something intelligent like Time etc., I will choose People every time. And laugh.
Also, I started reading Anna Karenina last year and never finished it. Don’t get me wrong, it’s good, but boy do you need to portion that puppy out!
Duuuuude. Totally.

#8: I shop at Wal-Mart without guilt or shame. The only cause I have ever fought for is to own a diamond ring that has only Canadian diamonds in it for sure; I couldn’t bear the thought of my decadence costing someone in Africa their arm.
But now that THAT mission is complete, I am free to love cheap household items and 2 liter bottles of Pepsi for $1 !
How could you say no to Wal-Mart kitty?

#9: Every time I go to the dentist, I lie.
“Have you been flossing?”
“Totally, probably like every other day.”
“Cause your teeth have a lot of plaque build-up.”
“Really, that is so strange…”

#10: I’m sure there are many more things I could confess, but my first Youtube video is about to finish uploading and I gotta go.


Honeymoon from Helen

Tomorrow is a very special day as it marks three weeks since we said our vows.

Three weeks.

So far, I am lovin’ just about every minute of it. Don’t get me wrong, it HAS been fraught with peril and puppies, but when has my life not been that way anyway? Not much has changed; I just signed on for a permanent roommate and–okay, everything has changed.

But I’ve come up with a list of 3 of my favourite things about being married. It may be funny or sad or disgusting or weird or all of the above. I’ll let you decide.


Our wedding day was seriously fun. For all of the craziness factors that come with planning a wedding in 9 weeks, I’m amazed it was so fun. Steve and I laughed until our stomachs hurt – although, I think I edged out a little bit ahead on the pain factor because HELLO TIGHT LACE-UP WEDDING DRESS.
From an amazing dip of a kiss at the altar to the hugs at the receiving line, from the wonderful feeling of changing into non-high heel shoes to the sunshine in late September, from the wedding party photo shoot to the speeches, from eating a Tim Tam Slam to starting a flash mob – it was unforgettable. Steve and I still recall little moments from the day with each other and it still makes us beam from ear to ear.

Outside of the wedding day itself, fun times have existed simply in building inside jokes with each other and learning each other’s language. We are starting to become one brain and, I’m sorry, but we are a funny person. Our dear future kidlets won’t have a chance. Quite frankly, our ambition is to be like Lily and Marshall from How I Met Your Mother, and then slowly evolve into Emma Stone’s parents on Easy A by the time we have teenagers.


You have probably noticed that things…happen…to us. We don’t ask for it (I don’t think) yet we seem to find ourselves in situations where we have to problem solve on the fly or go, “Oh wow, I’m glad we narrowly avoided that disaster.” Like the time when I was moving down to Langley and the van transmission blew up. Or any of the days that we were in Hyder, Alaska.
Or, hey, like the time we set off down the road to go on our camping honeymoon and less than 24 hours later, the day after we got married, Steve started violently throwing up into a plastic grocery bag that had holes in it. We were in a tiny trailer without electricity and parked so very, very far from the bathroom. By flashlight, I scrambled to find hole-less bags for my honey to be sick in, all the while thanking God that I wasn’t one of those people who puked at the sight or sound or smell of another person losing their cookies.
He had food poisoning for 4 days. And as if that weren’t enough, the day after my birthday – which was Sunday – we had to rush to the hospital  because I was doubled over, writhing in pain and high with fever. We didn’t know what was wrong. I hadn’t been feeling well for over a week, but attributed it to the wedding/honeymoon/moving in/organizing crap-phase of life we now find ourselves in. I kept pushing off the pain, the nausea and the sweating…but now here we were, in an ER overrun with people in just as much suffering as I was. They took temperatures, blood samples, urine samples; they told us to wait.

We had arrived around 5:30pm and I was not seen by a doctor and hooked up with an IV until almost midnight.
I could hardly breathe, the pain was so sharp. I was terrified because I had never felt like this in my life and, friends, I’ve had the Swine Flu.
After another round of blood and temperature taking, a doctor confirmed what we’d been suspicious of for awhile: I’d had a bladder infection for about a week and, going ignored, it had turned into a full-blown kidney infection. I had a fever of 103 and with the nausea/vomiting I was experiencing, the only thing they could do was continue to keep me hydrated with an IV while they waited for my blood work to come back.

I thought having to hold Steven while he was sick out both ends at the same time was awful, but how much worse this must have been for him.

Which leads me to…


I know what you’re thinking. “Mmm-hmm, newlyweds on their honeymoon, the topic is intimacy, they probably have some zany bedroom story that I’m going to regret reading.”

Nope. To put it into perspective for you *ahem* I’m going to give you a math problem. Rare, I know. But I’m actually pretty good at ratios.

Days of being married: 3
Times of Steve being sick out of one/both ends while I held him: at least 10/3
Times of being sexy: 1

(I’ve always hated math.)

And when I was in the hospital, I could barely walk without Steven helping me. He had to help me to literally do anything or go anywhere, including the toilet and the shower. I would have been embarrassed if I hadn’t been so loopy with fever.

I’m not talking about that kind of intimacy, although it is definitely an important part of what we have and are starting to develop more.

I’m talking about something a little deeper.

It’s an intimacy that says, “There are things I now see and know related to you that I wish I could unsee and erase from my knowledge, but I love you anyway.”
It’s staring into the most cringe-worthy, uncomfortable situation and not walking away.
It’s being willing to be the nurse that cleans the bedpan, the surgeon that opens a chest cavity, the firefighter that runs into a burning building, the life guard that jumps into the dark water…but for your marriage.

What’s so amazing is that we could spend so much time feeling super awkward about this, wondering if the other secretly can’t stand us anymore. I personally have always doubted whether someone would still love me if they knew the REAL me, the good, bad and ugly me.
But now it’s all out there, and we literally have nothing to hide anymore. We can be totally ourselves and we know we will be loved regardless. And it’s awesome.

To me, that’s true intimacy. Anything less is love based on a contract with conditions, which is not what I signed up for. We promised for better OR for worse, in health AND in sickness too.

Happy 3 week anniversary, love. As crazy as it’s been, I’d choose to do it again already.