Sorry Mate, The Beatles Lied


I can see you clutching your pearls at my blasphemy now. But I stand firm in this realization, and will proceed to tell you why. 

All you need is love. Sounds nice, doesn’t it? Too bad it’s utter bullshit. 

There are a lot of head-scratching Beatles songs.  And some of those were brought to amazing cinematic life via a little movie called Across the Universe.

 But those boys really sucked the blunt when they wrote All You Need Is Love. 

There’s nothing you can do that can’t be done…


Nothing you can sing that can’t be sung…

Okay, I can roll with that.

Nowhere you can be that isn’t where you’re meant to be…


It’s easy…


It isn’t easy. Life is NOT easy, and love is NOT all you need to navigate it successfully. 



Maybe I’m making things too complicated. Maybe I’m not being spiritual enough. But the last six months have been kind of the worst, and I’m tired of not admitting that. 

Before we made the 14 hour drive moving back to my hometown, life was pretty good. It wasn’t perfect – I mean, I would have liked a bathtub and a double sink to wash dishes in and a regular job, but hey #firstworldproblems. My husband had a great job laying floors with his dad, and I was finding enough work to get by. We always had enough. 

And then, things sorta crashed and burned. We lost our baby. I couldn’t take the city and its crowded loneliness anymore, so I persuaded Steve to leave the only home he’s known for mine. 

I got a job at Starbucks and lived in a friend’s basement while Steve packed up our bungalow and looked for places to live. That’s how little we planned our move. People said we were crazy, that we were running away from our problems, that we wouldn’t succeed. But we took a note from t-Swift about it, and shook those hay-hay-haters off. 

I was enjoying Starbucks immensely, and after 3 weeks of being separated, Steve and I moved into our new little home, complete with bathtub and double sink. And second bedroom. And closets, oh my.

 We were living the dream. We had plans; I would support us until Steve found work as a floor layer, we would pursue our music, we would heal from our wounds. 

It almost worked, too. 

Then a couple of weeks before Christmas, I unceremoniously lost my job. 

New Years rolled around, and we each made beautiful resolutions to start fresh, keep pounding the pavement for work, investing in our relationships with friends, family, each other. 

Less than a week later, Steve came down with the chicken pox. 

You heard me: my 36 year old husband caught the motherf’ing chicken pox. For 6 weeks. 


For 6 weeks, I waited hand and foot upon this man, 24/7. Getting him better was my job. With each day that passed, our money dwindled. And we became a tad…tetchy. 

Because, yes, we were in love. Yes, we had taken the leap of faith to make our dreams happen. Yes, we had enough to eat. We didn’t look broke. But the rent was due, and living 30 minutes out of town was burning fumes in our pockets. We hardly spoke or touched; when we did, we were ridged with tension. Dishes were tossed, doors were slammed. 

Had our haters been right?

One day, the landlord came over to plough our driveway, and I literally hid in the bathroom for 20 minutes so that he wouldn’t possibly be able to see that I was home instead of working. 

Every time I looked at our bank account, I saw the word homeless on our horizon. I embraced the panic and the shame of our failure. I doubted every decision we’d made. I blamed myself, because if I hadn’t been so weak, would we have made these decisions to begin with?

I began to reach out to people; I couldn’t help myself. It’s the most awkward thing in the world, sharing money problems. Being broke is relative, and how do you share your struggle without making your friends feel like you’re subtly asking for a handout? Which, you’re not, but you’re  at a totally vulnerable enough place where it wouldn’t even slightly rankle your pride to accept one?

People can say money is the root of all evil, that money doesn’t buy happiness, that it only corrupts. But it’s a lot easier to believe that when you have enough money. 

Through facebook and friends’ inquiries, I started picking up nannying jobs around town. Steve was getting stronger, and had become able to function on his own. 

And then, a miracle happened. 

We remembered our music. 

Because of our “down time”, we were able to start singing and playing instruments together again. People started asking us to play sets of 9 or 10 songs at art galleries and cafes around town. We might even play a big festival this summer. 

We are living the broke musician life, and while it’s not glamorous, it is fulfilling. 

Every single set, we include this particular song. It is our anthem. 

Because, while living an “all you need is love” kind of life would be nice, it’s not real. 

This? Most definitely, assuredly, and heartbreakingly is.

We made this video 2 years ago, just barely out of the marriage gate, having no idea some of the obstacles we would overcome. 

Carly & Steve: Living On A Prayer

Today, the snow is melting, the sun is shining, I’m a full-time nanny, and Steve has a brand new job starting tomorrow morning. (Send him a good thought, would you?)

Take my hand; we’ll make it, I swear. 


Book vs. Movie

It’s no secret that nowadays, converting books to the big screen is a major money-grab. Some are ragingly successful, some flop flatter than that kid at the public pool trying to dive for the first time. But one thing is for sure: everyone will have an opinion about it.

I love books, and I love movies. But I will probably never get caught up in angrily comparing them, and here’s why.

1. I didn’t write the book or make the movie.

Audiences take books and movies so damn personally! And I don’t understand it. That director or script-writer cannot please everyone, even you. He/she doesn’t hate you, and he/she will probably never read that open letter you wrote to them, describing your hatred for them.

2. Editing is really, really necessary.

When a director/writer converts a beloved book, he has a lot of choices to make. Many developments of character/storyline in books are slow, or lacking dialogue, and that’s okay. We read books to take the time for escape. But for an average two-hour movie, not all of these details can be transferred in a way that’s compelling and interesting. (This is why I’ll always be impressed with the visionary world created in The Hunger Games. The books’ stories were told completely from Katniss’ point of view; she doesn’t describe or even know about many of the things we get to experience on the screen.)
Game of Thrones is literally the only thing I have currently seen that’s pretty much word-for-word from the book, plus boobs. (I’ve only read the first book so far, though, so I can’t speak for the accuracy of the rest yet.) And each book is equal to a 10 hour season of a very expensive mini-series. I’m sorry, but Hollywood can’t and won’t do that for every book you read, even if it makes you mad.

Ultimately, those changes that were made from book-to-movie HAVE to be approved by the author of the books themselves, if they’re still alive. When those authors penned those books, even they have to make a disclaimer at the beginning: “This is a work of fiction. Any relation to a person living or dead, or a situation, is purely coincidental.”  The chances of their original book actually imitating the life of someone, without permission, is very unlikely – but they don’t want to get sued, so they cover their butt, just in case. Movie-makers have to take the same care with the material they’re given. I refuse to shake my fist at a director who apparently “didn’t read the book!”

Believe me. They did. Legally, they had to. And they discussed everything with the author. They reached an agreement, they signed papers, and they covered their butts. Just because it’s not the world that you imagined when you read the book, doesn’t mean that it’s not a good movie version of the story, deserving of acclaim. That’s like hearing an epically beautiful and moving orchestral score, and saying, “Well, that’s not what I heard playing in my head when I read it! I hate it!”

So, if the author (or whoever is acting on their behalf) is cool with it, why aren’t you?

3. The Bible is not a novel.

I know, I know. I’m going there.

If converting books to movies has become a major money-grab, then converting Bible stories into movies has become the peak of money and controversy. But it’s not a new thing. Like, at all.

The Bible has been used for big-screen stories for the past 100 years, at least. And I highly doubt that any of them were completely “accurate.”

White Jesus, anyone?

Maybe because…

A.) None of us were alive when the Bible was happening.

B.) I believe that the Bible is the actual word of God, intended to teach and challenge us, to get us talking to (and hopefully loving) other people. But it is not always heavy on dialogue, infinitesimal details or even character development. Even with the big, well-known stories, there are still many aspects shrouded in mystery.

C.) Movie-goers and directors alike cannot exactly consult the many Authors of the written material to turn these stories into the movies they deserve to be.

That being said, I’m just happy that Hollywood is trying AT ALL, and a lot of them (not everyone) are doing the best they can. I have a list of based-on-Bible movies that I love. It’s not huge, but it exists, and all of them have details that are missing or added or changed. It’s my choice to not get offended by that. If the integrity of God’s character and his-story is still intact, I still feel blessed and encouraged every time I watch the stories of God and his people brought to life. It’s also up to me to keep reading the Bible, so that I remember the important details.

Wait, so you’re saying Moses’ future wife didn’t actually push him down a well and then become a gangster?

My point is: If you don’t want to spend your money on what you feel will be a piece of crap, that’s fine. Stick to the books…but you might miss out. (Personally, Steve and I like to watch the movies first and read the books afterwards. Then it becomes like an expansion pack of the world we were just introduced to!)

I just honestly don’t think that you can go into a theatre to watch a movie based on a book, novel or Bible, and expect it to be totally accurate or what you thought it would be. If you want that, you might have to make it yourself.

“Be the book-adapted movie you wish to see in the world.” — Darren Aronofsky *

But that’s just my opinion.

*He didn’t actually say that. I did. Or maybe Gandhi. I don’t know. Accuracy is hard.

Why I Don’t Hate the Oscars

Coming at you LIVE from the brown carpet…


Also from the brown couch…and brown coffee table…and brown pretzel sticks…

I’m Carly Hutton…


I’m wearing a unique blend of thrift store/lost & found bin. Don’t be jealous.

…and we take this whole Oscars thing very seriously.


It’s pretty much our Superbowl.

I know that some people out there HATE awards shows with the fiery passion of a thousand burning suns, and they are entitled to that. And yes, there are more important things going on in World News. There is still corruption, poverty, people dying in the streets, and it sucks. Yet even the strongest Oscar-hater has to admit that EVERY single Best Picture nominee was a film that had something important to say about humanity, history, and where we’re going. And we need that.

Mostly, that’s what I love. It’s not necessarily the dresses, the celebrities, the drama – it’s the stories. They’re all being told, and I’m making my own at the same time. And if you think I haven’t fantasized about turning my life into a book, which then becomes a mini-series or at the very least a movie, which then garners me all kinds of appreciation, which then leads to me hanging out with Jennifer Lawrence, well then, you’d…probably…probably totally be right.

I mean, it *would* be incredibly therapeutic.

The truth is: yes, it’s probably a lot of misused money + some narcissistic, privileged celebrities + a political popularity contest — but I don’t know what’s true and what’s not, therefore I can’t focus on it. I mean, last week, I tried to watch AND understand the first 2 episodes of House of Cards and my brain nearly exploded. I present to you:


Maybe that’s something I should be ashamed of, or work on. My right-side brain feels lonely sometimes. But that doesn’t mean Baby can’t appreciate the beauty of the Arts, darling.

So, while not everything was 100% perfect, I also know that some really good things happened at the Oscars last night, and I’d like to talk about them. I will be including my live-tweets-on-Facebook, cause I’m a rule-breaker.


I have asked, and so far, the Internet has NOT answered. WHERE IS MY JONAH HILL/LEONARDO DICAPRIO MEME?!?!?!?!?

Ellen. Makes. People. Happy. And ain’t NOTHIN’ wrong with that.


I wonder how long I will hold out before I get the app that lets me put my own face in this picture too.

Otherwise known as the selfie that broke the Internet.

Pizza. She ordered real pizza.


“Did I miss anything?” — after the beautiful, tear-jerking tribute to The Wizard of Oz. BT-dubs, how are people JUST now figuring out that P!nk is an incredible singer and performer?! *cannot compute*

Favourite conversation: “My entire newsfeed is your play-by-play on the Oscars. Are you alone? Is Steve refusing to engage you in conversation?…I was picturing you all alone with a Steve pillow, talking away, and then being like, Oh hell, you’re terrible company! I’m talking to the Internet!”

Empowered Women:

“To the people still foolishly clinging to the idea that female-centered films are a niche experience – they are NOT, audiences want to see them and in fact, they do make money. The WORLD is ROUND, people!” — Cate Blanchett, Best Actress nominee and winner for Blue Jasmine.

“No matter where you are from…your dreams are valid.” — Lupita Nyong’o, Best Supporting Actress nominee and winner for 12 Years a Slave.


“I sing because I’m happy, I sing because I’m free! His eye is on the sparrow, and I know He watches me.” — Darlene Love sings her feelings about winning Best Documentary Feature, 20 Feet From Stardom.

Humble Men:

From praising his hard-working single mom to saluting AIDS survivors and victims, to praying for the Ukraine & Venezuela, huzzah. (Jared Leto, Best Supporting Actor nominee and winner for Dallas Buyers Club.)

ImageFavourite conversation: “It’s too bad he’s so ugly, hey? NOT.”
“And 42 years old? I call witchcraft.”
“He’s 42?????? Whhhhhaaaattttt?????”

From picturing his dad dancing in his underwear in Heaven, to singling God and his family out for every good thing in his life, to totally redeeming himself from “Ghosts of Girlfriends Past” and “Fool’s Gold.” *all the tears* (Matthew McConaughey, Best Actor nominee and winner for Dallas Buyers Club.)

ImageAnd while it would have been great for Leo to finally win an Oscar, I really think that if he had (combined with the Ellen selfie), it would have sent our beloved Internet back to the stone age with all.the.breakage. #LeoFTW2015.

Food Can Change Everything.


Bono is stunning live, and this song features the most profound chorus I’ve heard in a long time. And it’s about Nelson Mandela. So there’s that.

Favourite conversation: “I got stuck reading this at microwave cheeseburgers???”
“One day, when we have kids, we’ll take real food more seriously.”

Just When You Think Everything Is Going Great, Tragedy May Strike.





**Sidenote: I heard that John Travolta is very dyslexic, so if that’s true, I have (low) hopes that social media will lay off soon.

…am I in Heaven?…

Despite being misnomered, and her band majorly messing with the timing of EVERYTHING, my angel prevailed and got this song an OSCAR!

When Life Gets Ya Down, You Can Never Go Wrong With a Harry Potter Reference.


“I will go down with this ship….”

Mexicans Are The Shiiiiiiiiit.

ImageImageAnd now it’s over again. My belly is full of SO MANY BAD THINGS, I have a Very Important List of Movies To Watch, and my Internet Welcome has been Overstayed.

Keep telling your stories,

Carly xo

How to “Let It Go” (Without Making the World Hate You)

Hi there.

Have you been living under a rock for the past 3 months?

Are you a soulless robot that doesn’t care about Disney?

If neither of these things apply, then you’ve probably noticed that the newest animated installment entitled Frozen has taken the world by storm. *ba dump shhh!* *that’s a rim shot and cymbal crash to accentuate my excellent joking skills*

A million YouTube covers (some of which you’ll see later) – not to mention that two friends of mine made a Facebook video of them singing “Love Is An Open Door” to each other, so that they could use the impromptu proposal at the end as a way to announce that THEY WERE ACTUALLY ENGAGED.

Saaahhhh Kyewt!!!

A thousand and two blog posts (Two belonging to my site, thank you very much!) all about Disney making a brilliant comeback, family, sisterhood, LGBT equality + metaphors, the twist they didn’t see coming, and all the questions Frozen left us so they better freaking give us a sequel.

It’s big. It’s huge. It’s Oscar-nominated x2, and for all the best reasons. Even though I love movies, whenever Oscar season comes around, I always find myself having watched only one or none of the films that have been nominated, and catching up later.

This year, I’m rooting for Frozen all the way, because at this point, it’s the only team I’ve got! I’m already clearing a spot in my shelf for that beautifully frosty blue DVD case to make a permanent home, counting down the days until March 18th, when it’s finally legal to buy.

I have never done that before. My passion for this story is a completely new territory. It might make sense to me if I had a sister I’d grown up with, or an abiding affection for swallowingly deep snow (I do not, on both counts.).

Ultimately, I think it’s mostly to do with this scene here:

Elsa Lets Go

Are you surprised?

I am either listening to, playing, or just singing this song at least once a day – Steve has been known to hum it around the house, which is by my pure osmosis because the poor, unfortunate soul hasn’t even seen the movie yet.

Those lyrics and that melody set fire to my soul. It’s my battle anthem before I go conquer my world that is dirty dishes and cat hair and insecurity.

As a woman and human being, I, too, want to let go, let my soul shine, let my voice be heard without fear of being judged or disregarded when I have emotions and words that other people sometimes don’t get.

Because I’m weird and unprecedented and dangit, I didn’t come with a manual. Only because I can’t be owned or used; that’s really all manuals are for, anyway.

I am always clawing to be free, to be unstoppable, to beautifully create my own life without hesitation.

Clearly, the 100 million+ views of that scene indicate that I’m not the only one. Something about Elsa and her vows to change her own life have resonated with the rest of us. Here are my favourite people who have bravely followed in Elsa’s footsteps.

I live vicariously through them because I myself cannot make a cover of this song to save my life. I’ve tried karaoke, piano, ukulele and acapella – it’s all one big, fat, NOPE. My fingers stumble over the passionate simplicity, my voice cannot communicate the power of its message.
To make a totally nerdy, totally brief Supernatural reference, I feel like a human that so badly wants to be possessed by an angel – but when they are, it turns out that their “vessel” isn’t strong to contain such a perfect being, so they eventually explode.

I don’t know how these people got their shit together enough for this, because I can’t even.

Intense Beard Man

Africa Babies

Impersonator of Perfection

Vivaldi Lets It Go Too

That Perfect Girl (aka Zac Efron) Is Gone

Yet, despite this song being my everything right now, there’s one thing that keeps it from being perfectly perfect. I hate that fact so much.

It’s just this one little phrase: “…no right, no wrong, no rules for me, I’m free…”

*uuuurrrcccchhh* *those are my imaginary car brakes fiercely tasting the road*

I despise myself for saying it, but this declaration of freedom, this character depicted not to actually be a villain but a victim with a gift, is slightly marring the complete abandon that I want to give over.

Okay. I get it.

It’s 2014. Things are not as black and white as they once were. You can’t live your life by rules, ’cause then you’ll miss out on life itself.

soooo get it.

But as anti-2014 as the idea may seem, I still believe that right and wrong are real, and that being free doesn’t equal you getting to do whatever the heck you want.


Unfortunately, I can give two very obvious answers.

justin bieber arrested









These two people are the current leaders of the “YOLO-I’m-rich-and-hot-and-only-God-can-judge-me-bitches” attitude of pseudo-freedom. They’ve been constantly assured of their flawless invincibility, while our world has given them money to burn. And they’re so young it’s scary.

What they think is freedom is actually a very sneaky form of slavery. They wholeheartedly serve money, fame, their own pleasure and happiness. They’ve made themselves their own gods, and as much as the world would like to insist that this is okay, there are still laws and hopefully consciences in place that insist otherwise. Not to harsh our vibe, or make us miserable, but to keep us alive. When we are our own gods, we self-destruct. Maybe not right away. ..

young-bieber    Young-Miley-miley-cyrus-7396196-268-399








…but every sad newspaper headline has an origin story of innocence and boundaries. True freedom, in the hands of the unwise and inexperienced, can court true disaster.

On the one hand, they’re celebrities. I’m not, and I don’t really know any. But on the other hand, unfortunately that line can and has been smudged to include the other 98%.

This story broke my heart and made me angry. Essentially, this kid took 4 people’s lives with his drinking choices because his parents didn’t put any boundaries on him growing up. In response, the court let him go free with only a probation sentence because he’d never been disciplined in his life, so he couldn’t be blamed.

I’m sorry…so this kid obviously needs structure and discipline and help, and your logic is…to not to? You’ve basically just continued his parents alleged legacy and undermined the fact that 4 people died. I hope it doesn’t take another fatal accident for this guy to look at his life, look at his choices.

Yeah, okay, I’m such a mom, whatever.

Back to happier, Disney-er things!

Ultimately, I think that Elsa learned this same lesson by the end of the story. Originally, she didn’t know that her “letting herself go” was killing her entire kingdom. That’s some pretty serious biz. Arguments could be made that she was so shamed and abused and sheltered and orphaned, that she couldn’t possibly be blamed for what she did. But in the end, she realizes that she does have a responsibility to her people and she does have a choice in how she channels her emotions – and in the end, her gift blesses her kingdom.

That’s the difference.

In light of the Frozen craze hitting the planet right now, I pray for these children and adults alike whose hearts are coming to life as they hear Elsa’s anthem – that their cry for freedom would be tempered with love and compassion and justice, not only for themselves but for others too. Maybe my opinion on this is not that popular, maybe I’m the only one would say it (and I hope I’m not), but in that, I am letting it go too. And one day, when my kids experience this movie (which they will), I want to make sure that they know early on the importance of being themselves and not caring about what other people may think WHILE not just doing whatever the heck they want as long as they’re happy.

fallon smith interview

Jimmy: “I was just wondering, you’ve been famous since you were a teenager – do you have any advice for me, how to handle the pressure?”
Will: “…I tell them [my kids] all the time, you just keep LOVING PEOPLE. Right? The thing is to make sure that your art is a gift to people, to help their lives to be better, to be brighter…you see, a lot of times, people fail in this business because they’re in it for their ego and they start doing it for them. And it’s just NO, you help people get through the day and you do it really well.”

PS: I apologize for being so incredibly generic and “old news” when it came to choosing privileged celebrities. I am also thinking of people like Woody Allen or Kanye West – really, anyone who’s a douche because they have enough money or talent to make themselves into a brand name with no consequences.

All the warm hugs,

xoxo Carly

i don’t know any tricks, but i’m feelin 26?

Wow, what a month. I didn’t mean to take such a hiatus, but life totally gets the blame here. She took me, made me happy, gave me rest, warmed my heart, kicked me in the crotch, said sorry about that, made me laugh and sent me on my way.

I could tell many stories about all of that, but I figure the best way to not bore you to death is to use point form, complete with bold headers and cutesy pictures. Are ya ready? Vamonos!

1. Second Honeymoons Are So Worth It

We did it. We drove the crap out of that road, stayed the crap out of that castle, visited the crap out of our Calgary friends, slept the crap out of our fluffy King-sized beds I never wanted to leave, pictured the crap out of our new camera, and we honeyed. the crap. outta that moon.










2. I’m Kinda Full Of It

You see the title of the post I wrote before this one? “Aging with Grace,” I called it. Well, apparently, I need to go back and do my homework because two weeks ago, I turned one year older and I’ve been nothin’ but trouble ever since.


3. There are 6 more days until Halloween.

2013-10-09 16.31.32 2013-10-09 16.31.39 2013-10-09 16.34.09

Which essentially means that I only have 5 more days to change Walter’s mind about this. If you take note of the body language, he’s clearly not happy. In fact, you’d think you had truly burdened him with the weight of the world and it physically restrains him from being able to move. The only thing he can do is give you dead eyes that speak of betrayal.But since we are good parents, we’ve decided upon the art of trickery. We sprinkled this costume with catnip and let it lay among Walter’s toys and mutilated bits of furniture. It won’t be long now. The twain SHALL meet and it will be glorious.

4. Eva Sofia is one of the most precious things that has ever happened to me.

If you don’t remember her, have a look at this and read the story of how I was given the special privilege of bringing her into the world 7ish weeks ago.

This past Thanksgiving weekend, she came to see me and everything was wonderful. Mom and Dad looked pretty well rested and happy and in love with their girly. They let me take a few family photos that I am just in love with…2013-10-14 08.30.34










2013-10-14 08.31.00





2013-10-14 08.31.12







My heart is officially a puddle on the floor.

5. My mom is a badass.

2013-07-12 07.55.29










Aaaaaaand this is all you need to know that.

6.  Money can make Weddings Beautiful and
Marriage Difficult.

It’s been a long, hard week, to be honest. On my wedding day 13 months ago, when everything was smiles and kisses and flowers and laughter, I didn’t know there would be weeks like this. Weeks where it feels like I’ve been looking for work forever. Weeks where it feels like I’m not the right person to live down here, where I don’t fit in, where I don’t seem to meet the standards just by being myself. (I have been blessed enough to interview with LUSH this week and get a call-back for a 2nd interview right away, but now I’m at the waiting stage and it is trying to kill me.) Weeks where Steve and I forget that we are partners, allies, in this together. Thoughts get thought, words get said, actions are made, and sometimes you worry that it can’t be fixed. Yesterday, I thought, Oh God…he’s finally had enough of me…one day, I’m going to be a lonely old woman – nope, not even with cats to surround me! – and I’m going to look back on this week and say, “Yes. That was the beginning of the end. How did I not see it?”

Ever worry that it might be ruined?

Yeah, but it’s not. Not today. Not this week, not this month and I’m banking on not this year.

And does it make you wanna cry?

Yes, and I do. And I pray and I fight and I kiss and I make-up and I fall in love again.

Where there is desire, there is gonna be a flame,
Where there is a flame, someone’s bound to get burned,
But just because it burns doesn’t mean you’re gonna die
You’ve gotta get up and try, try, try.

P!nk, my girl, you have created the marriage anthem and I don’t care what anyone says about that.

The truth is, there will probably always be a reason to be upset. At your partner, at life, at yourself. I have been all three this week. But it will drain your life, your joy away, and change nothing. So I am determined more than ever to do that whole thing where I stop believing the lies are true and the truth is too good to be true.

I am loved and so is he and we will carry ever on.

7. HOW IS BREAKING BAD SO AMAZING?!!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!???????

breaking bad







Like. I just. Can’t.

We are in the early stages of season 5, and I am in the early stages of having a heart attack. These characters have completely sucked us into their world — and miraculously, I have continued on through all of my internetting and NOT YET BEEN SPOILED BY HOW IT ENDS.

Like, the other day, I was at the LUSH hiring fair, and all I overheard another applicant say was, “Breaking Bad Finale,” and I interrupted him, saying, “LALALALALALALALALALALA NOT LISTENING DO NOT SAY ANOTHER WORD PLEASE.” And he was like, “Um, I’ve actually never watched the show, it’s just all my friends are talking about and I don’t know why.” And I was like,


That’s what Breaking Bad has done to me. It makes me LALALALALALA at complete strangers.

8. I Now Know Why People Make Fun Of Me For Being Mexican


when life isn’t good enough

“Write hard and clear about what hurts.” – Ernest Hemingway

Thanks, Ernest. I needed that little push.

Sometimes, being a self-proclaimed writer is a hard thing. I find that I have a zillion +1 thoughts every day about every little thing, and I’m constantly wanting to tell a story about all of it. It is almost a discipline to keep myself to writing a blog every once in awhile rather than every day. Same goes for Facebook or Instagram or any of the technological fancies we have at our fingertips for communicating. Without any arrogance, I can say that I know I am a deep well of thoughts and feelings and emotions – some real and some not. So what I have to ask myself, every time I prepare to SAY SOMETHING, is “Will they care? Is it real? Is what I want to say worth reading, worth writing?” Sometimes it is, but most of the time, no.

I’m hoping that what I say today IS worth it. Because it’s going to be hard to write.

For me, the past 3 years have kinda sucked. And I’m tired of sucking it up.

Yes, I DO know that in the past 3 years I have gained true friends and lost icky ones, gained my freedom of Canadian immigration status, gone to Europe, fallen in love, gotten married and have been living in wedded bliss for the past almost-9-months. I’m not a bitch. I’m so grateful for all of these things. But in the classic words of Coldplay, “Nobody said it was easy, no one ever said it would be this hard.” And for the first time in my life, I’m willing to ditch the positivity for a minute and be honest about how the past 3 years have made me feel.

Allow me to make a timeline.

April 2010 – “met” my dad for the first time + started relationship with him + everything was wonderful.

June 2010 – learned it was all a lie + fallout with both dad AND mom + “i’m not good enough” + made myself believe I’d fallen in love with a boy but really it was just an escape.

August 2010 – moved away from home because I’m a grown-up now with a REAL boyfriend ran away to PG + kept leading boy on because I’m a jerk + learned about the real world ie: “what? rent is something i have to pay every month even if i’m poor? what?”

November 2010 – could not keep up lying to boy + break-up + finally got work permit + first job ever, hooray!

lalalalala get permanent residence and all legaled up April 2011 life is good lalalalalala

August 2011 – get fired from first-ever job over a technicality i wasn’t aware of + first stab of self-doubt + second stab of “I’m not good enough.”

April 2012 – second-ever job disintegrates as the company goes out of business + screwed over by boss who does not give Record of Employment or T4 tax forms upon request, even to this day.

July 2012 – move away again + not running away, just running towards fiance + WTF this is a big city.

August 2012 – third-ever job is sketchy and weird + desperate + getting to know new family + new church + no connections.

lalalalala get married make a little home life is good lalalalalalala

September 2012 – day after wedding (some people might call it a honeymoon) + my new husband + food poisoning + camping + 2 days of violent sickness + freaking out cause i’m brand new at this shit + poor husband

October 2012 – day after my 25th birthday + not feeling too good + go to ER + kidney infection + brand new at this shit too

November & December 2012 – rain rain rain rain rain + quit third-ever job for being too sketchy and unfair and awful + more rain rain rain rain until

April 2012 – gained 20 pounds + whoops + how did that happen + depression + multiple interviews and job applications + no work + husband works all the time to support us + no connections or close friends + no Record of Employment to get Employment Insurance + no tax check returns because of no work + “still not good enough”

May 2012 – the story I haven’t told.

I was driving home from a desperately-needed babysitting job on 200 St. at 4:30 in the afternoon. My first two mistakes. Anyone who has been in Langley longer than I have KNOWS that 200 St. is the busiest street on the planet and that 4:30pm is the WORST time possible to be driving it.

So there we were, Lola (my car) and I minding our own business, when suddenly, unexpectedly, a green light changed to a red light. Without a thought, I pushed the clutch in and tried to brake without stalling. CRUNCH.

Actually, CRUNCH is an overstatement. More of a TAP, really. I debated whether the SUV in front of me even noticed my contact with her.

She stops everything, gets out of her car on the busiest street ever that now has a green light to get my information and now there are cars zooming by everywhere, honking and swearing at us for not going anywhere and can we pull off somewhere? no because this is the busiest effing street ever and we’re stuck.

I started shaking. I had never hit anyone before in my life and now I might have damaged someone else’s car or worse, hurt someone else.

But thankfully, no one was hurt. She took my information, and I was too rattled to even think about getting out and looking at the vehicles and asking for her info in return. She said that if she needed to file a damage claim, she would call me and let me know.

But she never did. I figured we were in the clear. Crisis averted.

Two weeks later, I got an ICBC file claim in the mail. I phoned in and made my own report, but they still needed to see my car. By now, we were mystified because there wasn’t a scratch on it – not even the plastic casing around my license plate holder was cracked. And the car I hit was substantially larger than mine, so what was the problem?

The problem was *ahem* 2 miniscule little paint chips on the back bumper from the screws in my license plate holder. That was it. The cost to get it repaired? Between $700-$1200, to be owed by yours truly. Or I can choose to have my insurance go up an extra $1700 a year for the next 4 years, and that price will get doubled if something like this happens again. All because I only have my N. I’ve known how to drive since I was 11 years old, but 2 paint chips and a not-quite-graduated driver’s license have flushed me down the toilet.

As soon as we left the ICBC building, my last brick of self-esteem that was holding me together crumbled. I cried and cried and cried. I can’t hold a good job, I can’t find a job, I can’t make friends, I can’t figure out where I am in this city and now I’m definitely not qualified to drive it. Not good enough not good enough not good enough. Stunted. Sick. Failure. Loser. Trapped. Incapable. Unqualified. A burden to everyone. Gotta keep trying but might as well not.

Of course I haven’t forgotten that now I’m trained to be a doula and I have my first client at the end of the summer. I’m so thankful to my friends who helped me pursue this dream. This is a good thing, and I’m happy about it. But now I’m also terrified. I’m going to be working with real people, with real babies, with real life. They’ll have their trust in my hands. Am I capable? Am I worthy? Am I good enough to do this? Because right now it feels like working, driving and making true connections with people are insurmountable feats – these things that have always come easily to me, that I thought would always come easily.

I don’t write for pity or help or comments about how this is not really a hardship compared to what some other people have to go through. I know all of that and it doesn’t make these things hurt any less. I write because I needed to. At the heart of this, I am just a broken kid who was raised to never owe anyone anything, to never be any kind of imposition at all – trying to figure out where I belong and what I’m meant to do. I always knew that the first year of marriage would be an adjustment and a struggle at times. But I forgot that Life doesn’t look at you and say, “Aww, these kids just got hitched. Let’s give them a little break so that they can get used to that first.”

I am learning this + learning that it’s okay to acknowledge the bad things sometimes. So don’t worry that I’ve suddenly turned into a Dark Mexican. When you block out the pain, you block out the joy equally. Maybe you have learned that as well, or you’re just about to. Maybe I can be the one to give you a heads-up, or maybe you can be the one to reassure me that this isn’t the end of the world. Deep down, I know that. I know that I’m going to be okay, that we’re going to be okay. I’m not there yet, but I will be.


In the meantime, Grumpy Cat will be my spirit animal and sustain me with laughter.

Stayin’ alive,

C. xo