44 Shades of F%!k This

**Warning, if you couldn’t already tell, I’m about to say fuck a lot.**

middle finger

Today was the worst fucking day. It wasn’t actually all that bad but there were moments where the only word running through my head was “fuck.” Fuck doing dishes. Fuck wet clothes. Fuck getting stuck with all the shit fucking jobs. Fuck my teeth for having thin fucking enamel. Fuck my eyes for being slightly better and slightly worse than last time I was at the doctor. Fuck not having insurance or benefits. Fuck $400 lenses in way too expensive frames. Fuck the dentist. Fuck root canals. Fuck fucking expensive pain killers that don’t even fucking work. Fuck the Canadian cold. Fuck forgetting my scarf. Fuck the wind blowing fucking ice in my face. Fuck bad drivers and slippery sidewalks. Fuck my stupid Windows phone. Fuck not having money for any of the things I need, let alone the things I want. Fuck student loans. Fuck fucking off student loans and fuck fucking debt collectors. Fuck Guelph public transit. Fuck Boston Pizza waitress chick for judging me for eating alone. Fuck chafing dishes that give me bruises. Fuck polishing cutlery, or fucking anything for that matter. Fuck shirts that ride up, fuck jeans that fall down. Fuck long days, fuck heavy bags. Fuck people who request the library books I’ve taken out so I can’t fucking renew them. Fuck it being to fucking cold to do anything. Fuck not having a car. Fuck this, that and the other thing. Fuck it all.


Happy Valentine’s Day!


A big Happy Valentine’s Day to all my friends near and far, single and attached. I’m personally celebrating myself and my own awesomeness today by drinking a ton of wine and cooking myself a feast for 1. However you decide to spend your day, know that it’s just one day of the year, and chocolate goes on sale tomorrow. In honor of the day of love, romance, and other cheesy shit, I wrote a poem for all of you. Try not to cry.

Roses are red,
Violets are blue,
I must have done something right,
To have a friend like you!

xx Becky

Get Messy // 1



Something I discovered in 2014 that I really really loved was creating an art journal. It’s such a fun and expressive way to put your feelings into something tangible. I joined up with the Get Messy girls about 6 months ago, and they’ve since grown into something bigger, better and also more awesome! We’re currently working on the season of looove, something that’s actually a pretty difficult topic for me right now. I was surprised how easily these pages flowed out of me. One of my favourite things about art journaling is how free it is, so I won’t explain any of the pages. If you have any questions, feel free to ask!

week1page1 week1page1-1 week1page2 week1page3 week1page4 week1page5

Hope you all had a great week, and Happy Valentine’s Day!

xx Becky

To Tinder, or Not To Tinder


If you follow me on Instagram you would have come across this charming photo of a Tinderfella who wanted to do some dirty things with my hair.


I’ve been on Tinder for approximately 2 weeks and have talked to 1 guy who didn’t make me want to throw up (and he was boring as fuck). I don’t go on it or check it obsessively, I don’t think I’ve played the addictive and judgemental swipey game in a week and although the comments can be amusing when I’m in a good mood, they’re depressing and degrading when I’m not.


Tinder is like the black hole of bad dates and awkward encounters… not that I’ve actually had any of the above. As a recently single and still moderately heart broken young woman Tinder seems to be the way to go, right? Swipe right for a good time! Flirt with strangers who could be cat fishing you or also just straight up creeps! Does ANYONE actually meet nice people on Tinder?


Maybe it’s the right way to go. Get out there, have some fun, make some friends and connections and have some better stories and life experiences than just what was on Netflix. Maybe I’ll give this Tinder thing a try.

xx B

On Moving Back Home…


no place like home

So it finally happened. The moment I’ve been waiting for since I moved back into my parents house. My mother pushed a button.

When I was in high school, my relationship with my parents was.. tense. At best. I was constantly rebelling for one reason or another and whatever their stance, I treated the conversation like a debate and took the opposite position. (My parents still think I would have made a great lawyer) I moved out when I was freshly 18 and haven’t looked back since. That is, until my carefully built life came crashing down around me and I sucked it up, asked for help, and ended up back at home.

It’s been 2 weeks, 4 days, 1 hour and 47 minutes since I moved home.

It took approximately 2 weeks, 3 days, 22 hours and 39 minutes for me to feel comfortable in my space.

It took approximately 2 weeks, 4 days, 1 hour and 24 minutes for my mother to say something that made me want to scream.

They gave me the basement apartment and said “treat it like your first apartment.” So I did. I moved some furniture, I changed the layout, I took the treadmill out of my room and split the giant desk into 2 pieces. I put some pictures on the walls, cleaned the goo out of the bottom of the fridge, and finally felt like I might be comfortable here.

At dinner I was talking proudly about how I used a drill and a screwdriver to change the desk, and she said, in a disapproving tone:

“Well make sure you talk to me about it before you make any other decisions to rearrange things.”

What happened to my first apartment? To “having my own space” and “giving me privacy”?

I realized that I could either fight, or I could accept it. I’m not on my own anymore. I asked for help and now I’m paying the price. Being at home, I will get all the love and comfort I could ask for, and then some. I will get the fancy expensive food that I can’t affortd, but I will get asked where I’m going, and when I’ll be back. I’ll be judged on my sleeping/eating/television watching habits but I’ll get unlimited internet. I will never get the space I could on my own, but I’ll always have clean fluffy towels. I will never be free to do whatever I want, but I will be able to reach my end goal more quickly.

There’s no place like home.

It’s OK to Not Be OK



I’ve been thinking a lot lately about my life, and they way I want it to be. Long story short, I realized that something was missing in my relationship, I realized I needed to fall in love with myself before I could offer myself to someone else, and I realized that I needed to leave Australia.

It was the hardest decision I have ever had to make.


Today marks 2 years since I first step foot in Australia. 2 years since I came face to face with the man who would become my everything.. until he wasn’t. 2 years since I started my crazy adventure in the land down under. Today is a hard day to face. 2 years ago I was so full of possibility, so full of excitement, joy, and hope. Today I have a heavy heart. I’m so much more aware of my own faults, and I know that you can’t run away from everything. I know that nothing comes easy, and you have to work at what you want.


But I’ve also learned that it’s ok to not be ok.

It’s ok to be sad, lonely, lost, and confused. It’s ok to turn back to the people who you love, and accept their support. It’s ok to cut out people who don’t support you, to get rid of negative energy. It’s ok to waste time watching bad movies on Netflix or to throw yourself into your work. I’m learning that it’s ok to have a bad day or two. I’m learning that I don’t have to put a smile on my face just because no one wants to see me sad. I’m learning to open myself up a little more and let people around see when I’m hurt. It’s not ok to hide inside of yourself. It’s not ok to build walls to keep people out.


But it’s ok to not be ok.

xx Becky

silly selfies c/o my webcam because what is a personal post without hilarious photos of me?