3 posts tagged “liane”

I'll be driving to Las Vegas to see my best friend get married.
I can't wait! I better find some waterproof mascara, because I am SO going to need it!
I do have a few other projects I'm itching to tell you about, but I have my hands tied for now. Which sucks, because they are SO EXCITING!
All in due time I suppose.
Yeah, worthless post!

god, can you tell I haven't been to a wedding since my own? ffs! I'm stressing this big time.
Okay, so after much freaking-out upon my lovely best friend of all time yesterday, this dress was chosen:

and I'm putting feelers out about these shoes:

which Im going to get ANYWAY because I LOVE THEM... and I'm getting these for her bachlorette party/life, because I think they're so cute, I love the ombre purple!

I also need a way to justify these, and right now, the only thing I can think of, is because a)I dont have yellow shoes, and b) I NEED them for something, I'm sure...

The only person who will get this entry is Liane. Sorry to all who read this, but only she can truly understand what this is really all about.
I spent the weekend sick in bed, with god knows whatever it was going around. I went into my office on Friday night and pull out a nail polish stained black binder, one I hadn't opened in years, but one that I could never leave behind. I was about 17 when that binder was fresh and new, waitting to be filled with bubblegum fantasies. I called it "Duhamel". I got my tea ready and spent the entire weekend reading through the second full length novel I had ever written. I remembered the countless hours we spent at the big wooden kitchen table by the patio doors under the bright lights. Night and day, we wrote and wrote... thinking of nothing other than stories, plotlines, characters and locations. I think in those pages we created the perfect men - physically, mentally, emotionally.. everything we had ever wanted emodied in bubblegum fantasies. Hers; tall, dark and handsome... mine; tall, blonde and just a little on the chubby side.
I read, page after page and felt myself live through the words. I could close my eyes and feel the moments... imaginary and in my memories.
I thought to myself, 1/3 of the way through the story, if this was something salvageable. Could I take 400 pages of handwritten dreams and wishes and make it into something viable; something publishable. The binder currently sits with dozens of post-its and grammar corrections next to the couch. But I've realized something... it doesn't need to be changed. It doesn't need improvement. It doesn't need to be published. It needs to be what it is... a snapshot in time, when Liane and I ruled Montreal.. when the city was putty in our hands and we had it all. Her faded jeans and tanks, my platform runners and JNCO jeans... it's who we were.
Maybe that character was my perfect man, or maybe he's just what I thought blondie was like in real life. I've been with Nick for 7 years next month, and yet the sight of blonde hair and blue eyes makes me smile. In a sense, Duhamel immortalizes what Liane and I were, and what Alex and Nick were.
Sometimes I look back on that summer, and all I think about is the pain that lived in it. Duhamel reminds me of the perfect romance I had, within those pages, and the reason why, even though I haven't seen you in years, you will always be the only person who will quality as the absolute definition of a best friend.
I can't even watch House of Carters without thinking about if he's like what we envisioned him to be. He still makes my bubblegum heart melt.
But somehow, this reality, is considerably more sticking. Maybe my Nick and I will make another Duhamel. He makes my real heart melt. And despite all of the perfection that lives in those pages and in the memories of bubblegum pop of the 1990s, this is where my heart needs to stay.