You're so vain, you probably think this Blog is about you

I love that song. 'Yourrrrrrrr so vain, you probably think this song is about you-your-so-vain..' -- I could go on and on and on, really.
That song came to mind this evening after I got home from work. I found myself standing in front of the mirror removing today's denim from my fingernails. Then I thought to myself, I'm standing in front of the mirror, cleaning my fingernails. Seriously. Do you ever find yourself just standing in front of the mirror obvlivious to everything around you, staring off into the abiss? Ok, just me, that's fine. I think I do this more than I am actually aware of. Then I thought, how much time do I spend in front of the mirror? How much time in my WHOLE lifetime have I wasted/spent in front of the mirror? Well for one, I wouldn't call it wasted time. I sort of enjoy getting ready. It's one of my hobbies. I'm not vain, or completely self obsessed; I just enjoy getting pretty. On occassion, I don't feel like getting ready, and on those days I simply don't (just for the record). I do take a while to get ready. I read in a magazine once that one is considered high maintenance if one takes more than an hour to get ready. I think that's always on the back of my mind, too. Sometimes I feel guilty for taking as much time as I do. Since I've moved to Alberta, I get ready faster -- which is nice -- but I wish that I was one of those people that didn't have to put a lot of time into getting ready (even though I enjoy it). But still, I feel guilty. Sometimes. Partly, the reason that I enjoy getting ready is because I feel as though if I look good, I feel better and thus have a better day. It all comes down to control as well. When I say control, I mean, like when (for instance) I make my bed in the morning. I feel as though that because it is made, because it is neat and tidy, and because I did it, I am more organized and in control of not only my bed, but my life. The same applies to getting ready. I am in control. Don't get me wrong, either. I'm not a control freak. I just like some sort of organization and structure in my life. Structure is good. It makes me feel good, personally. I recommend trying it. Try it tomorrow morning after you get out of bed. Make the bed. Be happy that you made the bed. It's the make your bed and feel better about yourself theory.
Therefore, in conclussion, I am not vain or a control freak. However, I cannot explain the whole staring off into obvivion thing, maybe I am just tired.
Goodnight and Goodluck all

Happy Birthday, Mommy

Thoughts on not being back home in BC for my Mom's birthday are the following:
I feel as though I've broken the Daughterly Code. There's seriously a code for everything. A Friend Code, Girlfriend/Boyfriend Code, Da Vinci Code, Code of Conduct, Code of Chivalry.. There are just tons of codes! And thus my point, the Daughterly Code being one of them; and the code in which I felt I have broken. I'm still being pretty vague, so let me explain a little further. My Muj ("Muj" being my pet name for my Mommy) and I are extremely close. Not just "awe, aren't they close," it's more like "holy crap, they're best friends" -close. It's true. I enjoy being around my mom, I can't get sick of her. She is one of those people that you want to get to know. She's so well rounded in every department of her life. I'm really lucky to be her daughter, but at the same time, after leaving I feel as though I've let her down in a huge, irreplaceable sort of way. My biological sperm doner left when I was in the Kindergarten, which didn't phase me at all. It was more like "so long, sucker!" The divorce did hurt my Muji though, and my little brother (whom I used to fight with, every single day -- but now we're super tight). After that effer (I don't like swearing) departed from out lives for the best, our threesome became a very close knit family, and I liked it that way. I believe that's when we really bonded. My Muj eventually remarried one heck of a guy, so at least she ended up with a very good feller, a castle and her very own fairy tale. -- So, there was a little of my background. Did that help at all?
Furthermore, on top of the guilt of not being there to help, and spend time with my Momma (+ the little brother), I am still burdened heavily with homesickness (a fatality that not even antibiotics can assist with). This makes me feel like crap, thus the breaking of the Daughterly Code. I am sure that there are exceptions and different sorts of rules that vitto what I think that I have done wrong, but the thing is, that would be cheating. You know, the type of cheating when someone (for instance) is 375 pounds and on a diet: works out, eats healthy, but during a weak moment when no one around, steals a crispy cream into there room and eats it in their closet. After which they get stuck in the closet and suffer a heart attack caused by exhausten when trying to get out of that darn closet. M ake sense? I lost you. Ok. The thing is, I just feel bad. I wish I were there. And I feel bad because I don't regret moving here at the same time.
Happy Birthday, Mom.
Love and Miss you,
Brittany

Is she new here?

So I moved to Edmonton two weeks ago from BC. Two whole weeks ago. This is coming from a girl that would go home at midnight to sleep in her own bed from sleep-overs when she was a kiddie. What would make me move to a place where there is no Momma and no mountains? My Chicken. Yup, it would be his fault. No, not his fault. After all, who could blame the most genuinely, all around, as perfect as they get, little boy to fall for me. No, again, it was just fate. The sick kind of fate that people smile plastic looking smiles, while watching in disgust the two of the cutest love birds in the corner, whom have their own language and talk mushily to each other. I just love that sick kind of fate. You dream about it happening some day, and then right out of no where, when you least expect it, it smacks you over the back and chucks you off of a 100 ft. cliff, falling madly, and deeply.. to your death. Just kidding, again. Deeply in love, actually. Yes, it does exist. And it only exists once you think that you are as happy as you can ever be.
This is kind of nice. Being able to vent to countless amounts of people, most of whom one will ever meet or hear from. A blog is also nice because I can use endless amounts of pink (not that it has ever stopped me before anyways).
So, as I was saying, I moved to Alberta from BC. I paused university, quit my job, packed my bags, leaving my momma and the castle in which I used to live in. I loved it there. That was the hardest thing I've ever had to do, and the biggest change -- ever. All of which is worth it. Not that my momma is irreplaceable. Just that, my life had to begin, and knowing that the best thing that I had ever come across was waiting for me (with a very good job of his own), here in Alberta. Cute, hey? Ok, fine. Say what you want, but I think it's super cute. Me and my Chicken. I've encountered numerous obstacles since I've arrived. Finding a job, getting lost, getting lost, not knowing where I am half the time, getting lost, getting lost. I did, however, find a job in the first two days of living here. I ended up choosing one about six days after being here (yup, I said choosing, it was nice, too). I work in a mall, in a classy little fashion boutique. You might have heard of it. If you do come in, I'm quiet one with sore feet (breaking in new pairs of cute little leather flats is another obstacle all in it's own).
There you have it. A little chunk of my life chucked into cyber space for all the normal people, gamers, perverts, bored people, celebreties (haha, ok fine), relatives, friends, government officials, psycho analysts , taxi drivers, McDonalds employees etc. to read.
Have a lovely afternoon.

I'm in Edmonton!

Hey, it's Brittany! This is my very first blog ever!