It got me thinking about the truth.

What is the truth when it comes to a relationship.

Is truth really what someone speaks or does it become what we know? Now that in a nutshell has been my ‘food for thought’ for the last few days.

If in the span of a relationship you hear over and over again how much you mean to someone; how someone would do anything for you; how much someone loves, cherishes and wants to spend the rest of their life with you; how someone has never ever been with anyone as amazing as you…..is it truth because it is spoken or does it become truth once you believe it?

Are people who lie really at fault or are we at fault when we process a lie and choose to believe it?

Cause as of lately I lean towards it being the recipient of such ‘truths’ fault. I’ve always been intrigued by lying as an art form I’ve spoken on this before, and it’s mainly because I’m such a terrible liar. (I guess I just wish I were better at it) I speak what I mean, I probably reveal too much and never reveal anything I’m a 100% sure on.

Should you waste time hating someone for lying to you, or should you just focus on the fact that hating yourself for believing it makes more sense…….

When I’m lied to I often am at fault for believing it. I’m gullible most times to things I should never believe. I’d like to think as I have aged I’ve gotten better at this, and living in NYC has helped too.

So when I’m told something I believe that the other individual truly means what they are saying, and therefore how can you not believe what you are told.

How can anyone not believe the lies that get listed over an over again in a long-term relationship. (that is if they are lies, who really knows)

Because if you believe someone loves you, or cares for you, or gets you, or wants you, or even respects you, is it not mostly your fault when you come to the realization that they never did anything of the things listed above?

Much like a tree falling in the woods, can a lie really be a lie if no one is there to believe it…….?

One thing I think we all evolve with is our belief systems. Now this can be so many things and ideas. Beliefs cover everything. Yes everything. From politics, sex, and how long to wait after eating to go swimming our beliefs shape our every move.

Yes, what we believe in is in a sense what keeps us rolling. It dictates our everyday life, and our belief systems (although constantly changing) are our fundamental core.

And then there is religion. Oh the great topic of religion. Now I can’t pretend to even have a conversation on this topic, because not only is it specific to each individual (yes even if you are a member of an organized one) but also I don’t really know if I have every really known what religion means and in turn has meant to me.

I grew up Catholic. Very Catholic.  Catholic school, church every week, grace before a meal, hell I was even an alter server in church (one of the best ever I might add) But at the end of the day what does growing up Catholic even mean. I have no idea!

I really don’t.  I personally believe that you can never quite escape what you come from, as much as lots of people say. And although I don’t think I would ever shout form the roof tops that I believe in God, or that I am Catholic, and the end of the day I think I would have to associate most with being Christian, only because that idea and belief system has been grilled into my brain for so very long.

But again, what does that even mean!?

All I know is for as long as I really remember. As long as what is actually relevant in my adult life I’ve been more a fan of keeping the George Michael kind of Faith, then the kind that involves a God.

And then there was yesterday. Where I found myself sitting, waiting, and in prayer. I prayed. And exactly what the means…..I have no idea. But it happened, a for real prayer in the first time in a for real long time.

I am not to sure what this post is about except maybe change, and life, and at the end of the day it’s just about me….me on one specific day. So there you go.

But spooning is just one in the plethora of sleepy snuggle positions out there.

Relationship sleeping has an element of security to it. You feel secure, and safe with someone next to you. And like some corny stupid Faith Hill song it’s because you can feel the other person “breath”.

And although we may move from spooning to only a small cuddle we still feel that person there, and that is the comfort…right?

And as time passes an relationships evolve we grow comfortable in both turning away and not touching, because we don’t need to feel the other person to know that they are right beside you.

But that’s where one of my new favorite positions comes into play. As we both drift off to sleep facing away from each other, our bodies get comfy, and we start to curl into little sleeping balls.  And even though we didn’t need to fall asleep touching each other, our bodies find each other……. and we are sleeping “cheek to cheek.”

But thing is I didn’t feel right posting here the last little while. It just didn’t seem right.  I started to taper off a while ago, then would proclaim “I’m back” but truthfully I was never feeling it, and so I’d drift away into the night again. It wouldn’t go unnoticed, I’d get your comments, your emails, your tweets, asking where your Sunday PULL was or that post I promised on ‘this or that’ but after awhile those stop too. And then today (or should I say yesterday) something shocking happened I had 193 unique hits on my blog… the first time in over 2 years I feel anywhere near under 200 or even 300.  And something in that hit me. I don’t know what it was just something hit me. Not in an “ I better get cracking” or “oh no” or even “what the hell where is my love” kind of way, just in a “isn’t that interesting” kind of way.  It is kind of interesting how when you stop talking (or should I say typing) after a while people just stop listening. Almost like you never were there, like it never meant anything to them, or even to you……and “isn’t that interesting” at getting lost on the side of the road of this information super highway.

Now lostplum has been here since 2006…. and became a steadier stream of consciousness in February of 2008. That’s 3 years…. 3!

3 great years…..I’ve meet some great people via this blog, and had some great adventures, and yes some bad ones as well.

I’m proud to say I have never just banged out a post for the purpose of blogging everyday. I don’t just sit down and say “I’m here world pay attention…I have nothing of value or usefulness, but here’s a fun video cause I’m lame today” I’d like to think I’ve always posted something that even if it didn’t make others think or made them laugh it did those things to me. I always provide content…i think….well maybe….

Hold your horses…. this isn’t a goodbye letter!

Lately I’ve been in a blog rut.

A RUT!

That’s all it has been. I just had no motivation to post. (Notice I didn’t say writing rut…cause I have been writing) A very “what’s the point of it all” moment in my head…..this moment has lasted a few months.

I don’t apologize: why should I?!

It just is what it is…. it has been what it has been.

But here is the thing. When looking at that under 200 mark I hit today it clicked in my head that it doesn’t really matter if 200 people read this, or 2000 or even 2. I read it and I say things that matter to me. I don’t do this for anyone else…I have lots of other projects I do for others. This is just my little world (it’s getting old just like me) where I talk about those ever important issues like relationships, dating, friends, boys, sex, guys, the odd few men, and even love.

I just LOST my place on the page for a little while…. bare with me I think I’ll be finding my way back soon.

FACT: I’m posting at 2am that has to say something!

Well I have to disagree it should be:

Don’t hate the player, hate the education system** for failing to prepare the vast majority of boys*** for creative communication and management skills that are  needed to navigate through life.

** outside education and inside (home) education

*** notice I say boys

SIDEBAR: Yeah I know I didn’t do the follow up post from last monday…I know….

I’ve been working, playing, escaping, enjoying, stressing, working, laughing, crying, writing and enjoying all things offline (but still on) and trying to figure out how one comes back after an absence like mine.

What do I write? What do I say? Do I talk life, love, relationship status, make a stupid list, discuss the hot ‘topics’? What is a plum to do?

So….I do what any normal person in my predicament would do. I write down 15 topics and pick one from a hat. Actually I number them and have the computer generate a random number, but lets pretend a hat was involved.

I ‘pull’ THE IDEA OF LOVE.

A little heavy for one to come back with don’t you think.

Why did I even write that topic down I have nothing in mind for it. Why couldn’t the computer have said 3? I want to tell that embarrassing story that goes perfectly with number 3, but I get number 8: THE IDEA OF LOVE.

I need to think about this one for the day.

Tomorrow I will write about THE IDEA OF LOVE.

I am back after all, what else do you want?

My mother once called me 19 times within a 3-hour period (no message) when I finally picked up one of her calls after I had gotten out of a meeting:

“What! What do you want?”

“Oh..hi..haven’t heard your voice in a few days..how are things?”

“Did someone die?”

“No, why?”

“Cause unless someone dies don’t call me 20plus times in a day.”

“Oh, well if someone died I’d just send you an email.”

Great thanks mom. I can just see it now: “so and so died today. Very sad. It’s really sunny here today but looks like you are getting rain in NY. Pack an umbrella. Love you” (no joke that what it would be!)

So maybe I can rationalize a death email, maybe. Maybe even via facebook, or an IM.  People are always complaining about being broken up via facebook. Well actually I’ve only ever heard of girls complaining about this, which sorta equals you’re a big crazy and he doesn’t want to even talk to you.

But in a world full of all these impersonal forms of communications for important messages, where do we draw the line.

It’s become the norm like a said to breakup online, via email, or text. People have proposed via twitter, and updated facebook status from a funereal.

What should be personal, and what shouldn’t?

I think everything goes. If you want to say your vows on twitter, or tell the world on facebook that you cheated on you boyfriend, go for it. Be my guest.

But then there is one thing I think has to be a personal moment, one thing that completely changes when it’s done in person.

The simple apology.

Having someone apologize for bad behavior via IM or text, or even facebook is not and can never be the same as a simple to your face apology.

In fact, can you really be forgiven if you don’t ask for it in person?

I have always lost weight while in relationships, not gained and after thinking on it and even asking others I’m still perplexed at where this idea comes from. Does being in a relationship really make you fat? And if so where is this happening? I’m looking at you Dr.Oz, tell me!

I haven’t posted the post, because well, I might disagree with my statements now, I may have to jump on the bandwagon and say that being in a relationship just MIGHT (might) make you gain weight.

It all depends on who you are dating…

In my unposted post I outline that yes you go out and dine more with a partner but I think you are more conscious of it. You share things like apps and deserts, and you wait to eat with no snacking as to not ruin your appetite, and after your big meal is done your ready for other after dinner activities. Your meals are more planned out. More timely. You and your partner plan to do lunch there for you don’t spend all afternoon eating a sleeve of puddings. You mix it up more, not ordering Chinese then eating the leftovers for 2days and then reordering Chinese. I don’t think a relationship is cool with splitting a muffin and a bag of left over movie popcorn for dinner, but when it’s 10pm and I’ve realized I haven’t eaten yet the muffin/popcorn combo works fine for me.

I’ve dated alot of guys who made comments about my weight, or my appearance. And yet at those times I was like half the size I am now. Maybe I’ve been more aware of it in the past cause the guys I was with made me so. Maybe them telling me I was fat or that I should watch my weight made me more conscious then the average. Made me in a sense not be the norm and actually lose weight while in a relationship.

Also I’ve dated a bunch of vegetarians, strike that I’ve dated way too many vegetarians! Now don’t get me wrong I love a big dinner salad, and get them all the time. And I don’t judge them for not eating chicken (for not eating bacon I do!)

Ok so maybe it’s not the vegetarian thing at all. Maybe it’s that I’ve dated alot of guys who overly care about their appearances and like their women to fit into a pretty little not over a size 8 box. In fact, I think that might be it. In fact, I’m sure of it.

Maybe all along not only have I been dating the wrong guys but my waistline has been too.

So here’s the thing: I love food! I eat. I try new things like I’m just experiencing them, cause alot of times I am. I grew up in a house where I don’t think salt even was/is present. Sugar kids cereal was the luxury, and there are no real restaurants around. When I went to undergrad University I slowly weaned myself back onto gluten and boy is gluten good! And tried things for the first time like chocolate milk!  I started traveling and experienced the pleasure of that. Cause the true test of being an adult is making the choice to only eat gelato for two days when in Rome.

And then I moved to NYC and the foodie in me was unleashed like a razor to Britney’s head. Add on top of that that American portions are bigger then my face, and I’ve falling in love with spice, butter, and meat. And although NY street meat has got nothing on Toronto’s it’s a hell of a city to fall in love with food in. Thus I started to gain alittle, or maybe a lot….

Maybe I just need to fall for the right guy too! Maybe my stomach has been on a hunt. A hunt not only for the perfect hotdog but well for the perfect “hotdog”. A hunt for a guy who introduces me to things called ”Combos” or “Popeye’s Chicken” and even “Pop Tarts”. A guy who makes me nachos for dinner and indulges in the idea that we each get a desert and share them.

A guy who likes me for me and even though I might be at the biggest I’ve ever been in my life by like 20 pounds, holds my hand while we walk for street side tacos at 2am, and tells me I’m beautiful as I have taco grease running down my chin….maybe falling in love with the boy who loves ‘All’ of me is something I can really sink my teeth into.

SIDEBAR: I hate hate hated the book Eat, Pray, Love. Gag me with a spoon!

I love my Babcia more then anyone else in this world. My Babcia is my favorite person, and I think she always has been and always will be!  I had the pleasure of two weeks (on and off) with my Babcia while on vacation this past month, and much like my Mama Plum she’s never at a lack of advise when it comes to life, love, and boys!

9 Words of Wisdom from Grandma ‘Babcia’ Plum.

1:  “Men always know what fun is no matter how old they get. Old men are always bad!”  Guys love to get into your pants, and this fact apparently never changes!

2: “If I said so it means I mean!” Respect your elder, that is all.

3: “You won’t really know till you get married when people become normal…..they aren’t normal till marriage, and if it doesn’t work out, oh well you get to try again.”  Sometimes our love lives don’t turn out how we want or how we expected them too. Things changes and more importantly people changes, but life goes on, and you move on too. So “oh well”.

4: “Don’t give away too much Pączki”  A pączki is a like a polish doughnut or pastry. Mama Plum gave the same advice once. There is nothing wrong with giving away a little ‘desert’, but don’t be over indulgent and fill the plate or the other person just might get sick.

5:  “Everything gets split 11 ways”.  Babcia was saying what would happen if she won the big 80million drawing.  And I looked at her and said I think she was miscounting.  This side of my family is very small.  And she explained everyone would get some. So mamaplum and daddydoo wouldn’t share a piece they each got a piece. Same with my cousin (who is technically a step cousin and her husband and baby on the way) “ahh blood doesn’t equal family. Family is family” She’s right family is family, and family can be whoever you want it to be!

6: “As long as he knows how funny you are. You funny! (laughs) Not sure who you get that from? “  When you find someone who loves and appreciates all of you (best and worst quality’s) they are worth holding onto! And laughter really does make all the difference.

7: “Call your mother.”  When people care about you, you sorta have to show that you care back, even if it gets on your nerves.

8: “You are who you are, never what you could have been.  Life throws you all over the place, you just need to be happy” Anyone who has lived 86 years I would assume would think this is true. Life gets turned upside down and no money, royal blood, trinkets or possessions can save you or change that. But when you have family, love, and happiness nothing else matters: you don’t need anything else!

9: “Lets drink to that!” A term she uses often, and pours whatever happens to be infront of her. Life should be celebrated, and cherished. No matter what happens there is always an upside. As the quote she says all the time to me that I steal on a regular bases states: “ It could always be worse” so let’s drink to that!

My cousin has been visiting and we were talking about how people ask her for directions all over the city (something that happens to me often no matter where I travel) and I was saying it must be because we appear to be nice, sweet, approachable Canadians. But no one really knows we are Canadians. We just seem nice, sweet, approachable, and helpful (like most Canadians)

What makes someone approachable? And what doesn’t? I always share the ridiculous pickup lines that guys have used on me, but do I just seem like an easy approachable target that looks sweet enough to fall for their terrible lines or do they really find me attractive?

Do I really have nice, sweet, and approachable (Canadian) written all over my face, or is it just in my head……

One time I had gotten off the subway on my way to an event. I had about 6 bags in hand and it was a hot September night. I got off on one of those stops that are way under ground. You know the ones that take like three levels of escalators before you see the light of day.

As I could see the first set in my view I noticed it wasn’t running as people were clopped up the ’stairs’. Urg…I struggled with my bags up the long (and first) flight of escalator stairs. I started to sweat in my party dress. I was starting to get angry, but after this flight the escalators will work I thought to myself. But then…those weren’t working either. “F-this” I think, and I made my way to the elevator. Now subway elevators freak me out. If you have ever been in a NYC subway elevator you know what I’m talking about and if you haven’t just think on it for a bit.

I push the button and wait. As I’m waiting (the elevators are really slow, I want to mentioned that) this guy makes his way next to me to wait. He’s attractive at first glance, and on crutches as one leg is in a full-length cast. (I start thinking about a broken femur bone, which must hurt like a firey hell as I wait for the doors to open) He smiles, I smile back.

The elevator doors open and I go to walk in (crutches boy had gestured for me to go first) But I stop just past the door as I notice something. There is the corner of the elevator is a big pile of poo. Yes real human poo! “Hells no!” I think to my self, and probably said it out loud too as I go to leave the elevator. As much as I don’t want to climb two sets of escalator stairs with all these bags sweating up my party dress I sure ain’t getting in that slow ass elevator with someone’s feces!

“Wait!” The guy says.

“Pardon” I turn back.

“If I ride up alone when it opens people will think I did it.”

I stare sorta blindly at him.

“You serious?!” I say

“Please. It’s only one floor.” He gives me this look that only a sweet approachable Canadian girl would fall for.

I step in the elevator as close to that door as I can. The doors shut.

I turn back and look at the guy I followed into an already gross NYC subway elevator that just happens to have a pile of poo in the corner.

“If this elevator stops and doesn’t open I will break your other leg!”

He begins to laugh…and laugh hard.

I begin to laugh.

We get off the elevator at street level laughing like I’ve never laughed with a stranger before.

“Thank you so much! You’re really sweet.”

We parted.

This story always leaves me confused. Does being sweet mean you’ll ride with poo for a complete stranger? It may, but it sure smells wrong to me!