when my breathing stopped

20130612-200345.jpgWe’d been stopped in the subway tunnel for 15 minutes when my breathing stopped. My heart was being crushed under immense pressure. My lungs – well they said a sweet toodle-oo with a great big eff you! At that point I put up the volume of my music and rested my head on my bag. With my eyes closed I felt a little bit better, in spite of the fact that the B.O. of the man in front of me found its way into my nostrils.

Apparently I can’t handle being confined and helpless. When the train began moving again my head spun, my stomach convulsed, and I nearly lost my composure. For over an hour I was stuck on that train. The train that toyed with my emotions: Go. Stop. Wait. Go. Go. Stop. Wait. Wait. Go slowly. Stop. I could sense the annoyance mount in the other passengers. I saw the roll of their eyes every time the driver explained about the signaling problems and apologized for the inconvenience.

All I kept thinking was; Breathe, Vanessa. Breathe. Don’t get anxious over something you literally have no control over. You think the driver WANTS to be stopped? No. Breathe. You’ll get home eventually. Calm down and take a nap. That mantra (thanks MOM!) was the only thing that kept me from experiencing a full-blown anxiety attack that night.

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Funny how that all happened on my way home, just after I tweeted: Potential is one of my favourite words. To me it’s hopeful and optimistic; attainable and reachable. Each day has the potential of turning out wonderful or completely shitty. Most things you have no control over but you DO have control over how you react to certain things, which is why I still ended up having a pretty okay evening. I didn’t spend my night complaining about the TTC or that I got home late. I went on with my night as if nothing happened. I wrote a little, worked out, ate a handful (or two) of my mom’s homemade chocolate almonds – the ones I’m not supposed to eat because they’re for my sister’s baby shower (#Sorry #NoI’mNot). Then I climbed into bed and let my mind wander.

I thought about all the wonderful things that could happen. I thought about potential and let the word swim around in my mind. I thought about taking up photography. I thought about taking writing classes. I thought about the novel I’m slowly working on (or maybe it’s a short story). I thought about becoming an aunt. I thought about traveling: New York, England, Italy, and Paris – I’m coming for you. I thought about marriage. I thought about family. I thought about love. I thought about change. I thought about work. I thought about words. I thought about time and reminded myself that all good things can’t come at once — no matter how hard you work for them.

I thought good thoughts and woke up with a smile.

Love Always

Vanessa Xo

Trains and Lovers [Book Review]

Trains and LoversAs I read most of Trains and Lovers (my second Random House read for June) on the subway, I could almost pretend that I was there with Kay, David, Hugh, and Andrew. Sitting across from them, listening intently to their stories of love and all of the different ways you can love someone. I even thought for a brief moment I saw a fleeting fishing boat outside the subway window — the boat that sparked the conversation between these unforgettable characters.

In Trains and Lovers, Alexander McCall Smith explores the nature of love—and trains—through a series of intertwined romantic tales. The rocking of the train car, the sound of its wheels on the rails…there’s something special about this form of travel that makes for easy conversation. Which is just what happens to the 4 strangers who meet in Trains and Lovers. As they travel by rail from Edinburgh to London, they entertain one another with tales of how trains have changed their lives.

I read this novel in black and white. Each scene appeared in my mind as a photo, a blurred moment that was barely captured. The edges of my book faded away as I got caught up in the story and the words came to life. Trains and Lovers is the most charming book I’ve read in a while. I’ve never read Alexander McCall Smith before but I will definitely check out his previous work in hopes to find some more of his quick wit, his real-life honesty, and his way of words. I love how he describes the most basic human interactions, the way he depicts love, and the way he frames so many little truths about humanity. You can easily see a piece of yourself in each of these characters and find it exciting to learn a bit more about them.

This book has its own little rhythm to it, it’s slightly poetic. At some points you’ll feel the swaying of the train and hear the screeching of the breaks, and you’ll hope that this little story isn’t quite finished. You have so much more to learn about these people, about life! I underlined so many wonderful quotes in this sweet and profound novel.

Each of us has his or her reasons, for making this journey, for being as we are, for continuing with the lives we lead; ordinary lives, of course, but touched here and there with moments of understanding and insight, and sheer marvel.” (Page 239)

This novel will fill you with many moments of understanding and insight. It will remind you of what a wonderfully amazing stupid thing love is. It will remind you that we all go through the same things, we do stupid things for love, and we all feel love in the same way — that’s what makes it so great. We’re all idiots. We’re all suckers for love.

We live and breathe love. Loving someone ‘is the good thing we do in our lives’.

Trains and Lovers comes out today – get on board!

Love Always

Vanessa Xo

** Synopsis from the Random House of Canada Website **

Stay True.

Dorothy Parker

Dorothy Parker

The most difficult thing about blogging (writing) is staying true to the voice of your blog. It’s difficult to stay true to the brand you created when there are so many other blogs and brands to be intimidated by. I created this blog as a space for my personal thoughts, as a space to practice and improve my writing, as a place to learn more about myself, as a place to share great books. Admittedly I’ve lost sight of my voice a couple of times. Sometimes I didn’t even recognize the woman holding the pen, I didn’t hear my own nasally soften-spoken voice when I read my posts over again. The important thing is that I noticed and I put myself back on track.

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Another difficult part of blogging (writing) is privacy — what do you share? What do you keep to yourself? I’ve had people tell me that they follow my blog in a tone that makes me feel like they know more about me than I think they do. I’ve had people tell me that I should be careful. That my generation doesn’t know the importance of privacy. Well, that’s what social media is, letting people into your life, into your home. It’s scary how BIG social media has become in my life, I’m even applying for jobs with SOCIAL MEDIA in their description.

Sometimes I sit back and think oh my gosh, I’m sharing my thoughts with who knows how many people. On top of that it’s on the INTERNET, FOREVER. After the initial nausea from that thought subsides, I allow myself to think other thoughts. My Pen, My Voice is a brand. It is a brand that I created. It’s ME, it’s who I am and what I represent BUT I get to choose what I share. Along with this blog I have two other notebooks with me at all times. One is a diary and one is the rough beginnings of my novel — neither of which I share on my blog.

I think people forget that there’s a person behind a blog, a twitter account, an Instagram account etc and what they share is only fraction of their lives. They let you see what they want you to see.

I am my truest self when I write.

 I write with honesty, intention, passion, and determination, but please don’t forget –

My Pen, My Voice is just one side of me.

Love Always

Vanessa Xo

Bursting the Bubble [Week 9]

311997_217056328351539_100001415190739_627228_2236282_n_largeAn old man sits alone and plays Solitaire at my local Tim Horton’s. He’s concentrating intensely and yet he’s so far removed from angst. You can tell that he’s enjoying himself. The shuffling, the flipping of every card, the way he holds it in the air until he finds the right spot for it – there is something calming about it. I’m mesmerized. There’s something so sweet and serene about this entire scene that I realize I’ve lost my spot in line. I’m a young girl creeping on an old man and his deck of cards, who has just lost her spot in line. I wonder who noticed. I wonder why I never saw this solitary man, with his deck of cards, his empty coffee mug, and a few crumbs left on his plate. I wonder how many other people noticed him at all.

Solitaire. I guess I’m a solitary person. I like to be alone. I like the quiet. I enjoy silence: I hear it’s golden, although I’ve always pictured it as a shade of pastel pink and tasting like bubble gum. Silence is sweet and sometimes we need to give our mouth a rest and let our eyes take over.

So, this week I let my eyes take over.

* A white box with a huge carrot cupcake appears on my desk with a plop, a lovely handwritten note is stuck onto it. It’s dripping with positive words and beautiful thoughts.

* A young woman with her legs crossed tightly sits across from her friend at Starbucks. Her eyes are rolling so far into the back of her head that I can’t see what colour they are; they’re lost in her lids. A look of disgust is on her lips as she speaks. What is she saying? I don’t want to know. If you have nothing nice to say, don’t say anything at all.

* An abandoned bright orange construction helmet resting beside a sign that screams DANGER! WORKERS ABOVE!

Red and white business cards falling out of my wallet - I pick them up the same way I’ve picked myself off the floor many times before.

* A seagull’s lonely quill feather sleeping on the sidewalk, smiling at me. It recognizes the writer who walks past but doesn’t pick it up because she’s also afraid of germs.

* Construction. An ever-growing city.

* Cotton candy clouds spanning further than the end of the earth, shaped perfectly to the dome that is our sky.

* A girl with a smile from ear-to-ear, a spark in her eyes, and a story to tell – I catch her reflection in the subway window and realize that its me.

I saw a lot this week and I tried my best to listen as well. I heard everything around me. I heard praises, scorns, advice, beautiful music, panic, fear, private whispers, and laughter. Hearing. Seeing. Actions we do without thinking, without noticing. My goal for the final three weeks of my internship is to be conscious of what I’m seeing and hearing. I have a few more events coming up, a few more books to read, a few more manuscripts to bind, a few more questions to ask, and plenty more to learn — I want to absorb it all.

I want to learn it all. 

Love Always

Vanessa Xo

Children of the Jacaranda Tree [Book Review]

In January I was sent an ARC from Simon & Schuster of Sahar Delijani’s debut novel Children of the Jacaranda Tree. 

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Neda is born in Evin Prison, where her mother is allowed to nurse her for a few months before the arms of a guard appear at the cell door one day and, simply, take her away. Omid, at age three, witnesses the arrests of his political activist parents from his perch at their kitchen table, yogurt dripping from his fingertips. More than twenty years after the violent, bloody purge that took place inside Tehran’s prisons, Sheida learns that her father was one of those executed, that the silent void firmly planted between her and her mother all these years was not just the sad loss that comes with death, but the anguish and the horror of murder.

Neda, Omid, and Sheida are just three of the many unforgettable characters in Sahar Delijani’s startling debut novel, Children of the Jacaranda Tree. Set in post-revolutionary Iran, from 1983 to 2011, it follows a group of mothers, fathers, children, and lovers, some connected by family, others brought together by the tide of history that forces its way into their lives. Finally, years later, it is the next generation that is left with the burden of the past and their country’s tenuous future as a new wave of protest and political strife begins.

I have to start by saying that I am thoroughly looking forward to any other book penned by Sahar Delijani. Her writing is clean, delicious, and addictive — she takes you to a place filled with turmoil and pain and showers you with an immense amount of love. The characters are real, complex, and so full of emotion that I was sad to let them go.

There are so many lessons to learn from this book, so many times I wondered how people actually go through such horrific events and stay brave. There were so many times my heart ached and wondered if I would ever be brave enough to fight for my beliefs. There were so many times I felt thankful for not having to go through what the characters in the novel did. The thing about novels revolving around historical events is that the reality hits you smack in the face, punches you right in the gut, leaves you a little winded and breathless, Children of the Jacaranda Tree did that and so much more.

I’m a little sad that I can’t share any quotes from the book with you but I urge you to pick up a copy of this book and get lost in the great writing, the wonderful characters, and the beautiful sentiment behind the story.

Love Always

Vanessa Xo

** The synopsis is from the Simon & Schuster website **  ** The title of this post is an indirect quote from page 113 of the novel **

Who Named the Knife – and other thoughts

“When you feel envy and wish you were someone else, remember you that you have to take the whole life.”
- Who Named the Knife by Linda Spalding

It’s terrifyingly easy to become envious of someone else’s life. It’s easy to get so caught up in what others are doing (especially with all of this social media, sharing, and documenting) that you lose sight of your own dreams and wishes. I’ve written about this before and I’ll probably write about it again because it’s something that scares me a lot. When you can’t see the finish line or you feel like many people are sprinting faster than you (even though you’re working just as hard), self-doubt will sweep you up on its dark cloud and suffocate you. You can’t let that happen. Keep sprinting even when your lungs give out. No matter how many people pass you, keep sprinting.

If you look far enough into the distance you’ll realize that they aren’t gunning for the same finish line as you.

At some point the track branches off and we all have our own path to follow.

Your finish line is yours and yours alone.

Cross it.

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Love Always

Vanessa Xo

“Beyond the Lobby: Bookseller Receptions”

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I mentioned on Bursting the Bubble Week 8 that I attended the Random House of Canada Bookseller Reception. I also mentioned that there would be more about it on the Retreat by Random House website.

Well…IT’S UP!

You can check out my post here: The following is a guest post from Vanessa Grillone, Publicity Intern

Love Always

Vanessa Xo

Bursting the Bubble [Week 8]

photo 2The fact that I get to see the publishing world as an intern, book lover, aspiring writer, AND book blogger is something that amazes me week after week. I’m starting to understand just how important this internship is and I am so thankful that I have still have about four weeks left!

This week I went to an author event and a few stock signings with my wonderful colleague Anne, Rhidian Brook (author of The Aftermath), and his lovely daughter. We started at The Novel Spot in Etobicoke, where Rhidian signed books and answered questions. This is where I learned that writers should also be great speakers. Having a great sense of humor and a true belief in your story can really engage your crowd. During Rhidian’s talk, he was challenged by someone who read his book. The gentleman wondered if Rhidian had maybe gone too far, to which Rhidian replied, Thats what writers do. They spin plates and see how much they can get away with. I love that line.

That evening I attended our monthly Indigo Bookseller Reception but you can read more about that on the Retreat website next week.

On Tuesday I was lucky enough to attend a blogger lunch with Page Morgan, author of The Beautiful and photo 1the Cursed. I love blogger events like this, they’re small and intimate which allows for the chance to really get to know the author. Page (or should I say Angie — Page is her pen name) answered any question we asked, chatted about various books she’s read, gave us some behind-the-scenes stories from novel-writing, and signed all of our books.

So after all of the fun events this week and the weeks prior, what am I feeling? A little nervous as the job-search has begun but mostly I feel guilty. I swear the printer spews out pages and sounds like a beating heart. If you start the binding machine at the same time, the sound bangs through each beat. Yesterday I thought, now that is the sound of a heart breaking.

Am I the one breaking hearts?

Well, I have been 110% committed to this internship and I don’t really make time for anything else. To make things worse, my family is amazing (yes you read that right). No matter what time I get home, be it 6:15 or 7:00– my family is waiting for me to have dinner with them. I sure as heck wouldn’t wait, not if I was starving.

My VERY pregnant sister never says anything when all I talk about is what happened at work, or what author I met, or what book I brought home. She lets me gab and gab and doesn’t seem the least bit phased if I forget to ask her about her day.

And my boyfriend, that wonderful man, who comes over during the week, knowing very well that I have to eat dinner, workout, and shower before I spend a second with him. Who doesn’t get mad when I fall asleep within five minutes of sitting down in front of the TV. I would probably go into full insecure-girlfriend-mode and freak on him for not putting me at least 2nd.

The only one who seems to be holding a grudge is my dog, who doesn’t even come to the door to say hi when I get home. I give him treats to sweeten him up though ;)

So, what can a girl do in this situation but give thanks: Mom, Dad, Joseph, Jessica, Alex, and Waffles — I’m sorry for being so selfish lately. Thank you for understanding, for being there, and for loving me. Thank you for believing in me and thank you for not making me feel guilty.

This guilt is all my own creation and with every beat of that printer, I’m learning from it.

There’s got to be a balance somewhere and I will work hard to find it.

Love Always

Vanessa Xo

P.S. Amanda featured me as her latest Everyday Beauty — check it out HERE.

All things BIG

Today I am embracing all things BIG.

Big hair. Big pimples. Big dreams. Big thoughts. Big mistakes. Big failures. Big workloads.

Mostly because I have no choice, but also because at some point in your day you’re going to get so caught up in the GOOD big things that the BAD big things won’t matter. You’ll forget that you have a gross pimple dead-centre of your forehead (until a co-worker can’t stop staring – but then you’ll charm them to the point that they stop noticing it too). You’ll do something amazing and RIGHT and you’ll forget about the mistake you made a few hours earlier.

You’ll forget about your big failures and focus on your BIG DREAMS because it’s the only way to make the most of your day.

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Love Always

Vanessa Xo

Then Again [Book Review]

978-1-58836-942-0Knowing my obsession with memoirs, Lindsey recommended Then Again by Diane Keaton and I’ve been enthralled by it. I’ve mentioned it a few times in the past few blog posts and now that I am finished it, I highly recommend it. I’ve never cared much for Diane Keaton but I found reading about her life intriguing. She tells you everything, she writes beautifully, and she isn’t afraid to cast herself in a bad light. Diane Keaton has seemingly low self-esteem and doesn’t think much of herself considering she had a dream and made it happen. I was left in awe when she spoke of her relationships with Woody Allen, Warren Beatty, and Al Pacino. It was incredible to read how she taught Al Pacino how to drive or how Woody Allen wrote Annie Hall based on her life or her true feeling about The Godfather. It was fascinating to read Woody Allen’s love letters to her.

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The most amazing part of her memoir though, and the entire premise behind it, is that it’s a combination of her mother’s memoir as well. Dorothy Hall kept journals, took photos, and made scrapbooks, and they all make an appearance in this memoir. This memoir compares a housewife of the 1960′s with big dreams and a knack for writing, creativity, and self-expression, with an aspiring teenage actress, letting you see how similar those two can actually be.

Dorothy Hall is one of the most inspiring women I’ve read about. She is a woman who found her voice by putting a pen to paper. She believed in the power of THINKING. She believed in her family and I found her portrayal of family dynamics enriching. Her words tugged at my heart-strings and I learned a lot from Dorothy Hall and Diane Keaton. This memoir made me wish for a simpler time, where people need to make a greater effort to communicate. Now, I want nothing more than to TALK more to my mom, to THINK more, to DREAM bigger, and to WORK harder. This memoir will always have a soft-spot in my heart and I can’t wait to pass it on to my mom and dad, who will love it for different reasons.

dorothyhallpg-vertical“Dad was always telling me to think. Think ahead. Think….But it was Mom’s struggles, her conflicts, and her love that made whatever ability I have to think possible. She supported choices that created experiences that expanded my life. As a girl, Mom, like me, had vague grandiose aspirations, but, unlike me, no one helped her expand on them; no one could.” (171)
 

Love Always 

Vanessa Xo