Wild Celtic

Why I chose to study in the UK

2012-01-10T10:23:00.005-07:00

Here is a link to my experience in the United Kingdom and why I chose to change my life and finish my degree:

http://www.facebook.com/notes/education-uk-usa/student-representative-meaghan-couture-why-i-chose-to-study-in-the-uk/271635856233165

Hindsight

2012-01-03T07:40:00.003-07:00

She walked away. The spirit within her that felt she needed more compelled her to leave. Hindsight makes her feel sad. She feels sorrow and grief. For doing what felt natural.

The joy on your face without her makes her happy mixed with a twinge of regret. That happiness couldn't be achieved with her but you got there because of her. Being a vessel for other people to find happiness drains her. She has helped scores of people. Yet still she is not done.

Your happiness is important to her. You said you'd never get there but you did - see how happy you are? They never had that kind of anxiousless connection. Every past friend has found purpose and joy with another.

It felt natural. And the goal she has is noble and may satisfy her. She just wants you to know - She's sorry.

A pulse

2011-11-29T14:29:00.001-07:00

A pulse that beats within me says:
Write. Write. Write.
But the voice that governs my actions decides
You don't have the time.

I walk and I read and I plan and I work.
I pay bills and send emails and go places
I'm scheduled to be.
Showing up is the key to success...

But all I want to do is write.
All I want to do is my future...
All I want is to be done

But alas...it's unwritten.

Jungle

2011-11-18T11:28:00.000-07:00

Special? Maybe. Lonely, definitely. A path wild with vines and bushes and obstacles because it isn't travelled very often. A thorn sticks from her foot and makes the trip painful with every step. But to stop is not an option. Tears and blood drip along the leaves of passing trees as she grasps trunks and pushes against them to make a dent in this journey of hers. Breathing heavily she remains steady and marches onward. Good things happen, too. Light breaks through the dense wilderness and shines briefly across her face but there is something blocking her from enjoying it. A dark, oppressive mist that gathers around her feet, clouds her vision and even takes away the warmth from a directly shining sun. Stopping is not an option. Whispers come out of the jungle around her, voices and taunts. 'Not good enough.' 'Just go back the way you came. It's easier.' 'Who are you kidding? This path wasn't meant to be forged.' Sometimes she listens. Mostly when it's in the dead of night and the only companions are the dead stars hanging above the dead planet. But still, like the beating of her pulse, she carries onward. Trying new directions, using new tools to cut her way forward, dreaming of the end of this path, praying it will eventually join up with a river or a road or a path less overgrown. They tell her that she's special. Quietly she pounds forward, their words falling on deaf ears. She needs to earn it. To prove it. To feel it. And as she walks onward into the night and listens to the whispers she knows...she's not there yet.

It's weird

2011-09-02T17:21:00.003-06:00

I don't harbour any hidden romantic feelings. I'm not regretting my choices or where I am. But with memories of my old life, I feel massive guilt at the hurt I unintentionally caused by leaving my ex-husband. I think of the things we used to do together and I smile because at the time I was enjoying my self. He was my friend. And I hurt my friend. And that makes me feel sad and a bit guilty.

I hope that with time it will resolve itself. I do.

2011-07-07T11:51:00.001-06:00

I miss writing. I really, really do.

School's Out For Summer

2011-06-04T14:49:00.002-06:00

To see a world in a grain of sand,
And a heaven in a wild flower,
Hold infinity in the palm of your hand,
And eternity in an hour.

I think that is going to be my next (and last) tattoo. I have one on my left should blade and one on the nape of my neck...looking in the mirror, one on my right shoulder blade will look complete. Feel complete. Next thought...

Thank god University is out for the summer! I am SO worn out mentally because of that, plus other life things like finding a place to live over the summer, missing my family, bills, second year loans, arguing with little details still tied up in my past. Hoping I did well enough yet needing to keep moving and not look back because I'm the only one making all of this work. I am so fortunate to have found a full time job for my summer break at a wonderful place with a good vibe. I'm staying in a foreign country all by myself - I need a place to make money and work hard but I also need a stress free environment. I've come too far and worked too hard to be somewhere I'm not happy. So I am thankful I've found someplace I feel accepted and encouraged to succeed.

I may get a chance to write more now that I'm not trying to absorb the parameters of consonants, the phonetic symbols of all the languages in the world, whether or not an affix is inflectional or derivational, how children acquire languages, the VOT release of a velarised voiced alveolar lateral approximate (l) or what Grice's Maxims happen to be. I can just - focus on work or a new relationship or ... me. I've not had an opportunity like this or felt freedom like this in a very long time. And I'm truly very happy. My parents are proud of me, my sister wants to follow my footsteps...I'm blazing my own path and while at some points it got dark or lonely or I was afraid...I kept on going and it's been rewarding.

Some free writing poetry and then I'm off to surf the net:

The noise of the evening floats on the air
As she lies down on her bed, her yellow cotton dress
Spread around her like small rays of sunshine spilling from her breast.
Whirs of traffic, the click of the clock, the laughs from upstairs,
The beating of her heart - All sounds that gently reach her ears
And make her smile, taking in a gentle breath and quietly releasing a sigh.

She's done it, a whole year. Thinking back on her path it seems like the
Life of another, not her own. And yet it is her life, her story, her memories.
Some of it so hard, so lonely. Other parts full of joy, awe, love and magic.
This mystery of her life still elusive and mysterious. Her heart on a journey all
It's own with no guide or guarantee that by opening it again she won't get hurt.
The scars of past lovers still ache on cold mornings, the threads of her spirit
Woven together by the hard work of family, friends and her determined nature.

Unsure of what her future holds or how to live her life, she stares up at the sky
And waits for a sign. As a star shoots by, she smiles and the wind gently taps
Against the window. Life is but a melody, a dance, a story. And with hope and a Little bit of kindness...maybe she's finally done it.

Psychic Medium and Counseling: 2012 The Awakening to Spiritual Mind

2011-05-28T11:06:00.001-06:00

Psychic Medium and Counseling: 2012 The Awakening to Spiritual Mind: "As 2011 progresses many have wondered if 2012 will end the world. The answer is both yes and no. The world as it has been ends. Always the n..."

This is my mom's page. I'm being supportive :)

Creating

2011-05-10T11:31:00.004-06:00

Pen to paper is the most difficult place to begin for a writer. The ideas we have are usually overflowing, keeping us awake at night as we jot notes on little scraps of paper with a penlight. And you would think it would be easy for a poet or a storyteller to use ink to transfer what they see, feel or think onto a blank page. It isn't. Every new beginning is daunting.

Creation is never simple and when it's successful, that is even more rare. That is why we usually attribute the creation of great art, music, poetry, literature - to the gods. Muses. Sprites. It is such a miraculous task that surely no mere mortal alone could perpetrate such an action? Yet that is what writing is...it is the manifestation of what we create in our imagination from our knowledge and ideas. By writing I am not claiming that we achieve equal level with demigods but rather I am giving credit where credit is due: To those people who every day and night break the chains of self doubt, push through the little nagging voices of people who say they can't and just DO. For we are our own worst enemies.

I promise to keep trying. After all...I got this far.

Tattoo

2011-04-11T15:56:00.002-06:00

I got it about a year ago now. I have wanted this image as a personal tattoo for about 5 years. I held on to it and never got it because the people I was around judged me for it, told me they'd have less respect for me. I already had a celtic tattoo on my left shoulder blade, and they frowned when they saw it.

The tattoo on my left shoulder blade is in memory of my grandfather, Jack. He passed away when I was 13 from a massive heart attack. He just dropped to the floor, gone instantly. My grandmother, Rose, was distraught and sold the house they had shared for 40 years almost immediately. I snuck into his bathroom and took the handle off his cabinet door. And it is that symbol that is on my shoulder. It means a lot to me. It symbolizes family. I cannot be ashamed of it because it reminds me of my Poppy.

Oddly enough, Titanic (1997) came out that year. My grandfather's name was Jack and my grandmother's name is Rose. I cried like a baby the whole movie. I haven't been able to watch it since. And not watching a movie for the last 12 years that was the biggest grossing film until he decided to top himself this year with "Avatar" is no easy task.

It was the same year that my cousin was shot 4 times in a robbery. He lived despite all odds that he wouldn't and through the miracles of doctors they re-created a lot of internal organs for him. I watched him in the hospital, visited him as often as I could, cried for him, hoped for him. He finished college, he got married and though he was told he'd never had children, he has a beautiful baby girl.

That tattoo reminds me of when I was 13 and thought I'd lost all of my family to tragic and quick ends but realized I hadn't. That I can't bring back those that are gone, but I will live for their memory. It symbolizes to me so much more than ink on skin. It's a part of my life.

The same goes for this new, secret tattoo I am sharing with the void. This triquerta means a distinctive link between the physical, mental, and spiritual parts of self. It means past, present, future. And people may judge me for it...But -

I am who I am. And that is good.

This little light of mine

2011-04-07T14:00:00.002-06:00

I promise to start shining again really soon.

Changes

2011-03-31T06:30:00.004-06:00

I keep meaning to write about my new journey. This will hopefully remind me to do so but I think that I also need to find out who I am now with all of these changes in my life. I was a full time daughter, wife, co-worker, sister. Now I'm far removed from those daily roles. Now I am a daughter and sister via letters in the post, thoughts at bedtime and weekly video chat. I am no longer a wife. I am no longer a co-worker. I no longer share the same weekly classroom for dance and yoga classes with strangers whose faces were my friends.

I am no longer on ground where any face I see will have a history attached to it. All of my exes, all of my friends, all of those who could be familiar are now removed and in their place are faces I've never looked into before. Nor do they bear any recognition of me. I am somewhat of a phantom...an apparition. I float past the eyes of strangers who may register me for a moment, realise they don't know me and I float back out of their consciousness again.

Changes.

Here in this new environment I am changing all of those things that I didn't like about myself from my youth. Where once I would have been silent, I speak. Where once I would have cast my eyes downward, I look up. Where I would never have before accepted help, I am learning to accept outstretched hands offering assistance. So...who am I now?

I've been musing over this. There are so many features that make up a person. At it's most surface level I am a 26 year old who struggles with the number of her age with the stage of life she's put herself into because it's unconventional. I also switch the the third person reference for poetic effect. Damn you Grammar Classes.

I like reading FBI, CIA thrillers. I like mystery novels. I enjoy listening to Indie music groups as well as Top 40 Top Charts. I like jazz and classical and opera. I enjoy the theatre. I like dancing - in clubs, at a formal ball, in a dance class, in my room. I love to shower. I shower more often when I'm stressed. I value my mind over my body. I write poetry when I can. I'm an avid fan of the shows Frasier and West Wing. But I also take pleasure in watching Glee. I enjoy the simple things in life - seeing ducks waddle on the sidewalk, a shooting star in the night, raindrops on my cheeks. A melody that I love getting stuck in my head.

A student again - I'm starting at the beginning to set a proper foundation for the future that I want to have. I gave up possessions in favour of life experiences. But with that has come a price to pay and it's in the form of evaluating my life. And it has left me melancholoy sometimes. Every single person I know back where I used to live (it isn't my home) has said that they are so envious of my ability to have done what I've done. They dream and live a little through me. And I can't help but think -
Why was I the one who was able to get away? To not be trapped? How can I be this person? People who knew me when I was young - I was such a shy little thing. If you'd told them I would be moving to another country all alone to live and pursue higher dreams that were tucked away in her heart - They probably wouldn't have believed you as I would have been clinging to my mothers dress, hidden behind her knee. I was labeled sweet, friendly and intelligent. Never beautiful. I was told maybe one day I'd be beautiful. That forever injures a person's self esteem. And if or when I attain beautiful - I will never identify with it. It's my inside self that I have spent so much time working on - whatever happens on the outside is irrelevant. I dislike it when men whistle at me as I pass. I am intelligent and capable, educated and funny. But they don't know that about me. I don't how to reconcile with that either.

Changes. I've never been good with change...

I don't know who I am I guess. I will give this another try later in the week. Until I can find out the answer. Writing helps me. In the meantime, I will enjoy the sunshine in Manchester. A nice break from the raindrops that fall on my eyelashes...

2011-03-19T12:56:00.000-06:00

Deep breaths, she thinks to herself. Closing her eyes, she inhales through her nose and out her mouth. She holds her books tightly to her chest. Breathing deeper, she wonders why she feels the need to calm herself. A need inside of her starts to creep up her spine. Just do it, she thinks. Run. Go. Run. Run. She starts to breathe more quickly, breathing more shallow breaths and she opens her eyes to look around.
“You okay,” he asks her. She cuts her eyes over at him, then looks to the other side of the street. The feeling taunts her. Just do it, go, go now. If you don’t go now, you’ll never go. Run. You know you want to, you know you have to, can you do
it? Run. Go! Fuck it.

She looks over at him and says, “No.” Tossing her books into his arms, she dashes in the other direction. Running as fast as she can, the feeling loosens its grip on her, the anxiety is left on the street corner back with her books and a past. Feet pounding the pavement, her left shoe falls off her foot and, hopping, she takes off the right one, tossing it into the gutter. This feels good. The wind whipping through her hair, the pavement scratching the bottoms of her feet, she lunges forward with everything she has, running toward nothing but away from everything.
Eventually she comes to the end of town, jogging rather than running then walking rather than jogging. Out of breath she stops at the beginning of Mister Kaluse’s corn field, hands on her knees, head hanging down, gulping the fresh night air. She leans her head back and looks up at the sky full of clouds. She wishes she could grab one and fly away from this place to somewhere new. Her feet are aching, her lungs are burning and she can’t help but smile for the first time in months. She straightens her skirt, adjusts her bra and starts to walk along the edge of the field, head tilted toward the heavens looking at stars and satellites.

“Hey,” a deep voice says from about a foot behind her. She jumps and whirls around. Her heart is pounding anew, this time a fight or flight response. A good looking man in dingy jeans and a t-shirt laughs and takes two steps back, signaling he means no harm. “Didn’t mean to scare you but I was just thinking it’s getting sort of late for a woman to be walking around in the dark on a road with no shoes or company. You need any help?” The way he tilts his chin at her and grins stirs something inside of her. It’s like she’s met this man before, although she doesn’t recognize him. His eyes sparkle with interest. “No, thank you, I’m fine. I just needed some fresh air and my shoes were just getting in the way.”

Another feeling is tingling inside of her. She walks up to the man and stands no more than a few inches from him, the heat from his body and hers mingling together in the cool of the air. “I’m better now though,” she says to him. “I can breathe out here.” He looks down at her. “Well, that’s very good. I’m glad for that. Be a shame for a pretty girl like you..” He doesn’t get to finish his sentence because she stands on tiptoe, grabs his shirt and, pulling his body closer to hers, kisses him square on the mouth. He’s taken off guard but within seconds puts his hands around her waist and pulls her close, their kiss deep, warm, familiar. She pulls back and looks into his eyes. They’d never met before but some part of her soul recognized his. She smiles a crooked grin and he chuckles softly at her. He knows it, too. His hand goes to her jaw and he gently pulls her in again for another kiss, softer this time, less urgent. Deeper and passionate. She runs her hands through his hair and down his torso….

The night goes on around them, the world spinning along as it should. The guy at that corner went along his way, not giving much thought to the books he carried or the girl who ran off. The shoes got picked up by a kid on her way over to a slumber party, and the woman… well that is what imagination is for, after all.

Why blog?

2011-03-03T05:57:00.002-07:00

Could it be because we feel our voices are not being heard?

At work. At home. In politics. At school. In our group of friends. By our parents. Our children. Our spouses.

People everywhere are reaching out, desperately trying to be recognised. Twitter. Facebook. Blogger.

With all of this talking - We're still not listening.

"People look without seeing, hear without listening, eat without awareness of taste, touch without feeling and talk without thinking." Leonardo da Vinci

I'm listening. What is it that you most feel needs to be said? Not to me, just in general. And post it here, if you like. Because everyone deserves to have a voice.

Wandering Soul

2011-02-16T05:03:00.003-07:00

Yeah I went with nothin
Nothing but the thought of you
I went wandering...

I went out there
In search of experience
To taste and to touch
And to feel as much
As a man can
Before he repents
.....
Yeah I left with nothing
But the thought you'd be there too
Looking for you.

I think being able to pass these sites on my own two feet, with fresh air in my lungs, thoughts in my mind, wind gently brushing my cheek and my eyes free to wander is quite wonderful. My walk to University is like that...I feel lucky that I don't zoom by it without seeing. I get to look as the sun hits the leaves, as an old man slowly walks his little dog, as children run and laugh inside the walls of the park. I hear birds sing and buses rumble and see the streets of my home.

It is a lovely view I have, even if it does get lonely sometimes.

You're My Wonderwall

2011-02-13T10:53:00.002-07:00

Maybe you're gonna be the one that saves me. Maybe your friendship can save me from myself. Here's hoping it can because sometimes it's a bit much to be me.

We've had so many lives and sometimes, in the dark of night, I miss a few of them.

Eyes closed and the world fades away. Consciousness lost to the sea of dreams that wait for me to arrive after darkness falls. In them I find myself powerless to the colours, emotions and happenings of a world I visit only at night. Run, swim, watch and feel...sit, eat, hug or talk. Admire, loathe, laugh or cry. Familiar faces, strangers and those in between. Later, after waking, trying to remember what it was I saw, felt or said.

But it's impossible to remember that which isn't actually a memory.

Things that weren't actually said. Or felt. Or seen. Though my senses try to convince me of the reality of my dreams, my reality shows me it was just a dream as I look down at my empty hand, tearless pillow and silent room.

I move about my day in a quiet haze. Somewhere between here and there. And part of me is sure you're still with me.

Poetry Repeats

2011-02-11T06:15:00.003-07:00

I'm putting these back on here. For maybe they will help me shine again:
A little thing, a gangly sort of girl
All knees and elbows with skin so fair.
Eyes dark like the night, they shine with
Curiosity, with interest, with light.

Her nose in a book, she does not notice
The changes that time brings to a woman.
Dark hair down her back, skin fair and pale
And hips that curve and sway.

The boys look her way and she glances down
Thinking their interest is merely to tease
In her head she is still a gangly thing
All elbows and glasses and knees.

_______________________________________________________

She tunes in
So she can tune out
She gets plugged in
To listen to bands play unplugged
Or downloads some songs
to upload to friends

This crazy cycle is
leading her in circles
chasing shadows in the fog
for answers to questions not yet asked

She rushes in the morning
to wait for the evening
And prays for sleep only
to curse the alarm clock's ringing

A small town girl out
in a big city world
Invisible in the middle of a crowd
yelling out loud to a sky
full of crows and clouds.

This crazy cycle is
leading her in circles
chasing shadows in the fog
for answers to questions not yet asked

She calls, she prays, she listens, she waits
A big city girl in a small world
Watching a sky full of clouds and crows
as questions fall silent on her lips
and clocks hands spin
and away she goes....

_______________________________________

As the moon illuminates the sky and dances with the stars,
I sit and contemplate the fact that such a world is ours.
How can it be that this wonderous place is right here in our midst?
How can it be that there exists a beauty such as this?
The answers to these questions I may never hope to know,
but unto you these humble words of wisdom I bestow:
To those of you with a gentle heart, let it guide your way
For it is you who can most enjoy the beauty of today.
To those of you whose hearts are filled with much bitterness and sorrow,
all I can do is offer you a promise of tomorrow.

MJC Copyright ©2009

Don't read..not worth the effort

2011-02-10T13:48:00.004-07:00

Apparently I'm having a crisis. A breakdown of the copacetic, a loss of the glitter, the sparkle, the drive. A crisis of faith, of purpose, of meaning, of self.

I've lived so many lives and in the still of the night I really miss some of them.

Do I believe in love? I once believed in a deep and true love between two souls who were meant to be together. A man who would know me, see me and love me for the sum of all my parts. Who I would, in return, feel the deepest and strongest adoration for and want to have a life together. This is fantasy. Reality is a string of bad relationships until you find one that is all right and you settle into feeling less then yourself. Trade in your dreams for a new but slightly used car, a warm body at night and someone to talk to on the other side of the table. And before that there were the liars, the yellers, the boys who hit walls, the boys who cheated, the boys who left or the ones who stayed because they didn't know what real love was supposed to be like. And then, when you set out from those things looking with that little ember of hope that is still kindled in your heart: What do you find? Men offering to cheat on their girlfriends with you, men who ask for one night, the liars, the cheaters, the men who hit walls, the men who leave. And this, ladies and gentlemen, this is the reality. Divorce...cheating but 'forgiving' each other...lying to your partner to keep them happy, to keep you happy. It's so tiring. Go on a date and meet up with someone who said they were all these wonderful things...only to find them snorting coke and swearing they're fine. Or find someone who you feel could very well be your soul mate only to find they are taken and still email you late into the night while planning a weekend away with their girlfriend. Lads. As Valentines Day approaches and we allow ourselves to put on rose coloured glasses ... I can't help but think that life would be better lived alone. Without the farce. Honesty. Reality. Why lie?

I don't believe in religion. I don't know if I believe in dreams. It's all perception and biological response. Safety is just an illusion. Relationships are an illusion. Set up for failure. So is life...what is all of this anyway? Societal norms. Expectations. Working hard - for what? Doing everything the hard way, everything being just a little bit harder for you and not knowing why. Having to fight for every inch of happiness.

I've had so many lives and sometimes, in the dark of night, I miss a few of them.

Is it really better to be pursuing a dream when so much hangs on your ability to succeed? If you fail...that's it. Game over. And the chances of failure are so much higher than the chance of succeeding.

I don't even know anymore. I try and I try and I try and I've finally started to wonder...

What is it I'm trying so hard for.

I have to tell someone...

2011-02-10T04:30:00.005-07:00

That I don't know if I can believe in love.

It hit me recently, walking down the street one early morning back to my room. The rain gently falling on my face, droplets collecting on my eyelashes. I looked around at the hazy glow surrounding the street and silently knew...

I'm struggling to believe.

Just like the idea of Santa or the Toothfairy or Saint and Angels and all those concepts that died before it...It feels a bit like that. No anger, no sadness. Just acceptance.

And I didn't even pause in my stride. I kept walking, chin held high. And I'll keep working hard for the things I believe in and for what I want. But just a little bit wiser.

Fifteen or Twenty-six

2010-12-20T09:36:00.001-07:00

I think it's all the same, really.

12 months

2010-12-16T08:52:00.004-07:00

When it's been a while and people ask you, "What's new?" how do you typically respond? I sigh. (Every time)

It's like the phrase, "You all right?" as a greeting, not as an actual question. It took me weeks to get used to being asked if I was okay about 20 times a day. By the end of some days, an unlucky flat mate who would nod and say, "Ya'all right?" in my direction would get a very emphatic and somewhat exasperated "Yes, I'm FINE!!!" from me. But I've come to learn all of these people aren't really thinking that I look like I'm not all right ... they were just saying hello. Now I take pleasure in saying, "Yeah, you?" I can't initiate it as a greeting just yet. My speech pattern is too American to pull it off. Though I can't help but wonder when greetings like "what's up? How's it going? You all right? What's new?" became something to which we don't really want a response that includes detail or discourse. When did we stop caring? Somewhere between our grande lattes and two o'clock meetings? I'm not sure when I lost my attention span.

Adjusting to a new environment has not been an easy transition. Though I've had quite a busy 12 months. Twelve months ago today I was still married, living in a house we'd just built, working at a job celebrating three years there although I hated it and didn't want to celebrate Christmas because I was unhappy. I knew, however, deep in my gut that my life was about to change. Drastically. I felt it on the air, in my bones as I went to sleep - that with the beginning of the new year my regular routine wasn't going to be regular anymore. January saw the beginning of a new life for me with a dissolution of a marriage that wasn't really a marriage, anyway. It was two close friends sharing four walls and a yard who were good at accomplishing tasks together. February saw me living in my parents house for the first time since I was 18. March was full of me going to dance classes and coming home to cry.

April was the turning point. April saw me saying, "I wanted a change. Now change it. You've got nothing but a pocket full of dreams. Place it all on one big chance, one big dream and jump with both feet. See what happens." I never thought about failing. An email was sent to a University in the UK. "I'm passionate about pursuing my education in English Language. If this is something I can do with your University, please contact me." Enter. Send. Back to the job I hated. May saw a response. "Yes, please send your transcripts. Are you coming to the UK?" Enter. Send. Plane ticket booked for June. June saw me and my sister in England to see if I liked the city, see what the school looked like, see if I was accepted or not. I was accepted without hesitation - full entry without having to apply through the normal channels. If I wanted the placement, it was mine. I still laugh when I think about the admissions manager asking me if I'd applied to other Universities in the UK, also and I replied that actually, no ... I'd put all my eggs in one basket and wanted into this specific University. His expression was priceless. I'm guessing not a lot of people do that. July and August saw me working every night after my day job to apply for my UK immigration paperwork, finding a room with the University, selling my car, selling my furniture, packing my things into the basement, giving work ample notice that I was leaving.

September saw me flying to Memphis to say a final goodbye to my family who, in all reality, I won't see for a long time. It saw me having my last day at work, saying goodbye to family and getting on a plane for a new life. September saw the serendipitous meeting of me and my new group of friends, the first day of University and so many other firsts. October was lectures, halloween, football games. November saw more lectures, bronchitis, long walks, student life, friendships growing deeper. December brings the end of term and lovely Christmas traditions that I'll remember forever. Decorating the Christmas tree with J, watching movies with my friends all day, exchanging presents under the tree, writing holiday cards, checking the post every day for cards from friends, family and people I still have hope for, getting ready for traveling and lots of snow.

12 months. Relationships. Jobs. Schools. Different lives. Happy times. Sad times. And all of the in between.

All the while I can't help but wonder - Am I in the inbetween? Or is this the beginning? Or am I at the end of something? And why, when I've done so much and come so far, do I feel like I'm only half of something rather than whole...

For those who have lost

2010-11-29T09:11:00.000-07:00

Every day, faces pass us by in a whirl of different shapes and colors and size.
The eyes of some meet yours for a moment and pass by,
The eyes of others have met yours countless times.
Some moments we ponder, memorize or sometimes even forget.

Though frozen in time are hundreds of snapshots, pictures and memories
There to remember for us.
Smiling faces all laughing along to a joke or a story that has
Long since vanished into silence.

But the joy remains imprinted on paper,
Behind the glass hung on our walls.
Precious people who’ve left us behind in this fleeting reality
Still hold our hands, kiss our cheeks, share a smile in those
Framed and trimmed photographs, those moments, those memories.

These people, these moments, these pieces of our hearts,
of our history, of ourselves are with us always
Hanging on walls, propped up on desks, tucked inside wallets…
Carried for a moment in a passing glace
Carried for years in a shining summer
Carried forever when they are in your heart.

(C) MJC 2010

Rain

2010-11-04T11:29:00.003-06:00

Life is strange. It's beautiful but it's frightening. It's so easy sometimes and yet so difficult. It's psychological and biological but doesn't make any logical sense whatsoever. I have wonderful new friends. It's a bit wearisome sometimes making new friends. Trying to remember which bits about yourself they do know, which parts they don't. Telling stories you've told a million times over to others again to these new comers to your life so that they may know something about you. Constantly having to explain why you're a 26 year old undergraduate to every single person who asks because "it's just not how it's done over here." Aching a little from losing the relationships you formed in an online community because you withdrew into the physical world.
I could write volumes about what my new friends don't know about me. But they like me anyway. So, really, what are relationships? If it's not about knowing my past and I have no idea what lies ahead in my future...are they really just about the here and now? So that begs the question: Who am I now? Now, in this moment in my relationship with these people, who am I and who are they? Because we're headed into the future together.
I desperately need a moment to just be. I need a long, deep conversation with someone that isn't about today or what I did but is about intangibles and nonrealities. Is about all the bull that doesn't matter but really does matter like what's the meaning of it all, what's the purpose, who are we?
I need to not have to write volumes about what my friends don't know about me. I just want them to know me. But then you could always ask, "Why? Why do you want them to know you?" I always end up going away. We all do. We all end up going away. And in the end maybe that's why no one knows me. But if they wanted to, I'd let them in anyway.

Deleting my Posts and Signing off

2010-09-29T16:38:00.003-06:00

I really think that signing off is where I need to go. You all have been so supportive, it means the world to me. You have my email if you want to contact me but I am resigning from the blogging world. It's been a long time coming for me.

It has been an honor spending this time with you all. I will check up on your blogs and support your progress.

My life, very simply put, has changed.

Second Thing About Me

2010-09-23T12:09:00.004-06:00

So, after having a fabulous day about University and town I am back tonight to answer the second post in a seven part series about me. I'll briefly address some of the comments left from the first and move into something a bit more descriptive. The first three questions were from Alan at News From Nowhere:

How are you enjoying your new home?
I adore my new home. I've never felt quite as "at home" anywhere as I do here in England. My whole life I've felt a bit out of sorts, like I didn't really belong in the places I was living. Sure, I had friends who loved me, a job, a house, things to do but I always felt a bit like I couldn't breathe or be myself. Here in Manchester I am breathing deep, full breaths of life and it tastes so sweet I could live in these little moments here forever. The green plant life dripping with fresh drops of rain and dew, the soft breezes and gentle sunsets, the hustle and bustle of the city while I walk and notice all the small details about this city on my walk to Uni. Roses in bloom, a pidgeon happily munching on popcorn, puddles reflecting the brick buildings on the sidewalk, the multitude of languages that I can hear. Alan, the answer is I'm enjoying my new home very much because to me, in spirit and heart, England is my home. I have just been away for 26 years.

Are you used to the climate?
I am. I don't mind it at all. I love the rain and I'm used to things changing rapidly. I have my umbrella and a rain coat. I know people prefer sunshine and all but I find the weather here lovely. It's never boring.

Have you found any decent pubs?
Yes, I have! I feel so lucky. I met a woman at the airport going to the same area as me for halls. She's a bit closer to my age than the 18 year olds. Her luggage fell off her trolley and I stopped to help her, we ended up dragging each other's belongings all over the campus together. She was kind enough to invite me to join her out at a cool pub on the main thoroughfare on the way to school and in turn I met the most amazing group of people. They love quizzes, are highly intelligent and funny. That and they are so welcoming to me that I'm without words to express how thankful I am that I happened into this gathering of people. I'm in awe of their group of people and admire their friendship with one another. They introduced me to another pub a bit off the beaten path but nice and quiet if I would like a pint to enjoy watching footie. It's in this way that I also feel so happy.

That answers Alan's questions. I will now go into the second thing about me which is about the events leading up to my moving to another country. People from the States have a hard time understanding my decision to move and I can see that from their point of view. I'll answer Andrew's questions in my Third Thing About Me post.

As you know, I'm back in University to get my degree. I'm pursuing a Bachelor's (Honors) Degree in English Language. The events that lead up to my moving to England have, I suppose, been going on a bit of my whole life. I have lived in a lot of places within the states, traveled to a lot of them, that sort of thing. When it was time for everyone to go to college from high school to get degrees in what they wanted to do I was struggling with a difficult home life. My mother had bipolar disorder and the summer before I was to start at Regis Uni with a $40,000 scholarship behind me (which could only be used if I lived at home) she had an episode which she still can't remember to this day where she kicked me out of the house. I was devastated. Not about losing my scholarship but about the turn of events in the relationship with my mother who at one time (and thankfully now is again) was my best friend. I took out a loan and went to another college in the area but didn't care about school. My life was so different from those of my peers - I just couldn't gather the joy or confidence needed to finish classes. I took a year of psychology, a year of English and a year of History and eventually just left. No one cared if I was there, I was spending good money going no where and so I entered the world of Finance as an Operations Manager at a bank. From there, I was sucked in by the money and the "should do" way of life. "Should" buy a nice car, "should" buy a condo, "should" work for nice things. And so I did. From 20 to 25 I had a good job, a nice home, a fancy car and nice things but I was so empty inside, unhappy, unfulfilled and unchallenged.

There was a day where I was sitting in my kitchen and I thought about the day I die. Someday I will and I hope it's not for another 70 years but I thought about it nonetheless. I asked myself, "When you draw your last breath...will this be what makes you smile before you're gone?" The answer was, "No." I couldn't just live life the easy way, collecting things and not pursuing my dreams of an education from a University I respected. Education is and always has been so incredibly valuable to me. I want my University degree more than anything in the world and I want it for me. I couldn't bear the thought of living in Denver any longer. It isn't my home. California isn't my home, neither is Michigan, Tennessee, Texas, New York, Florida, or any other states I could name. Then I remembered how much I loved visiting London in 2008. London, though, is expensive and a bit too big for my liking so I did some research and came upon Manchester. It's up and coming, a lot of financial services are being poured into it to restore and maintain it. So, I emailed the University and told them I was passionate about finishing my education and wondered if they would accept me. The director of the programme asked for my transcripts and once I gave them to him he told me I was accepted on the spot. No tests, I didn't have to apply or anything - if I wanted in, I was in. So I jumped. I took that leap that you get in life - that one moment where if you hesitate you regret it and if you take it you could very well live the life you were meant to lead. I sold my car, signed over my house, sold my furniture, packed my things and within three months I had a visa to live in the UK for the next three years to pursue my dream.

Now, when I close my eyes at night and ask myself, "Is this a life that, if you were to take your last breath, you could be happy with and smile?" A tear forms at the corner of my eye, I breathe deeply, smile and say, "Yes. Yes it is."

Seven Things Meme

2010-09-20T13:41:00.003-06:00

Hello all. It's been a while since I've been around and I apologize for that! I've just recently immigrated into another country and things have been a bit of a whirlwind for me but in a wonderful and amazing sort of way. I just realized tonight that I am exactly where I hoped I would be in my life. I feel exhilarated and complete in a way I never have before.

William at My Walkabout has nominated me for a Seven Things About Me meme. I thank him for thinking of me. I will try my best to fulfill the honor of this meme and in the process let you all know a little more about me. I'll post this first one and offer the comment section up to suggestions for a topic for one of the next six posts.

This first one probably won't be too informative, as I'm not great at leading the charge on describing things about me. Usually I list off all the normal things. Hi, my name is Meaghan. I'm 26 and a cancer sign. I come from a family of four and my father spent the early years of my childhood in the military, which means I moved a lot in my youth. Thus not forming a lot of lasting childhood friendships. That has been both a blessing and a curse where I try to find a certain peace. I love meeting new people and hope very much that they like me. I usually doubt myself when it comes to social situations, being more of an observer than a leader. Though am happy to lead when offered the opportunity.

I'm at University now and actually I've visited this post and left it a few times now. The first of seven things about me - I have no idea what people would want to know about me and I would hate to presume to even know where to start. So, comment field is below - if you have any questions, give a shout. If not, well ... I'll try my best. I always do.

Airports

2010-09-13T16:39:00.005-06:00

Recently I've spent a lot of time in airports and it got me to thinking about just how many I've visited over the years. I've been fortunate enough to be able to travel thanks to friends who flew me out, family members who wanted to see me or having flown "buddy pass" because of people with flight benefits. I wanted to clarify that I am by no means jaunting out and about in the blue skies of our world willy nilly but merely thanks to the kindness of people in my life.

My first airport trip, that I can remember, was from Denver to North Carolina, when I was young. My father had just gotten out of military service and had found a job on the east coast. The airports I can remember having visited since then are as follows:

Denver International Airport
Philadelphia International Airport
John F Kennedy International Airport
Memphis Airport
Dallas-Fort Worth Airport
San Francisco Airport
Los Angeles Airport (LAX)
Las Vegas Airport
Salt Lake City Airport
Honolulu International Airport
Kahului Airport
Detroit Metro Airport
Chicago O'Hare International Airport
Lambert-St. Louis International Airport
London Gatwick Airport
Manchester Airport UK
Hartsfield-Jackson Atlanta International Airport
Cancun Airport

Those are the ones I can remember anyhow and some of them were for layover flights. The worst layover flight I remember was getting stuck in LAX for a night because all the flights were over-booked. I have never been more frightened. I told my friend to hang on a minute, I had to use the restroom. I went into a stall and cried. Los Angeles is intimidating! I pulled myself together, washed my face in the sink and rejoined my friend to find out where to sleep that night. Then again I was a mere 18 years old and a bit new to things. I got stuck in St Louis for a night, same problem. New York was a fun trip with a History class in high school. I had written an essay that got selected by the teachers so I was able to go see Boston and New York City. Memphis Airport is rather small and Dallas is the largest I've seen, next to LA. Hawaii is gorgeous - open walkways and birds flying about. I was also intimidated by London's Airport - the sheer volume of noise with people, languages, train whistles, buses...I still remember being a bit scared by it all. I love Manchester Airport. It's smaller and much more user friendly. I stepped off my flight last time, drew in a breath, looked around and commented to my sister, "Now THIS is my kind of airport."

I have an airport story that illustrates how small the world is today. I was flying from Denver to Memphis, connecting through Dallas so I could visit my family and surprise my grandmother. I arrived in Dallas and it was about lunch time so I went and got a Happy Meal. I like them for the smaller portion sizes. I went back to wait for my plane and took a seat opposite a nice looking woman. She looked up from her book and commented on how she has a friend that only eats Happy Meals, for the same portion reasons, but that she keeps the toys for her nephews and nieces. Smiling, I thought she was very friendly and sounded up for a chat, so we chit-chatted a bit about this and that, life stuff, my upcoming move, her business dealings in London and such. Turns out she was on my flight only because her connecting flight was cancelled but that we were both in Dallas from Denver on our way to Memphis. The time comes to board the plane, we say goodbye and take our seats. I had such a connection to the woman, I thought her very intelligent and wonderful to talk with so I took out my notebook, wrote her a little note saying how nice it was to meet her, that I knew she'd be great in the new pursuit she was taking and gave her my email if she ever wanted a person to talk with. I waited until the fasten seat belt sign came off and introduced myself, giving her my name and note and took my seat. About 20 minutes later she came back by and gave me her email, as well, saying how nice it was we met. Fast forward to when we land: I get off the plane and, nice woman that she is, she was waiting for me. I had looked at her email and it had the company name of XYZ that a dear family friend works for. I asked her, "Do you by chance know Joey Smith? He works for XYZ and I know it's a long shot but he's had dealings in London, as well..." She laughs, smiles and says, "Oh my! I know Joey, he's a dear friend of mine as well!! I noticed your last name is Couture. Do you know anyone by the name of John Couture? He's a friend of mine." (I'm making up names to protect identities.) I smile broadly, so pleased with this little life surprise and tell her, "John Couture is my father and Joey Smith has known me since I was 5." Two strangers, a different city, in some random airport by chance because her flight was cancelled and she knows my father and my dear family friend.

It's one of those things that just makes me smile both inside and out. If you're reading this, Ms Smith, it was wonderful to meet you!! :)

Today

2010-09-09T22:25:00.004-06:00

I feel able to take on the world
and feel as small as an ant.
I feel happy, joyous
and just a bit sad.
I'm excited, elated
and just a tad nervous.

I feel like an 18 year old girl going to school
but I know I'm a 26 year old woman finishing university.
I feel like I'm packing a lot of things
but I know how much I've given away or am leaving behind.
I feel like I've got a million words to say
but I don't know where to start writing.

So giving hugs I wear a smile
As they wipe away a small tear.
And I laugh with a lump in my throat.
I dream of the reality I will find.