It’s passion, it’s not love, Infatuation never ends up right.

New blog:

No cuddlez in mudville

No cuddlez in mudville

the spell is over and tickets have been purchased

i need a bathing suit


And you’ll like it

Nonsense old lit.

So, I’ve taken up the habit of sending letters to various different people this past year and a bit. It’s been really rewarding in that I have discovered true love and acceptance from people I had not expected. I’ve grown in a million little ways, discovering myself alongside a dozen different people. I’ve worked my pants off this year gathering funds and supplies for my next winter, which is to be spent across river (West Dawson) in a cabin. I’ll be chopping my own wood, eating my own scratch food and writing my letters. I’ve become so enthralled with writing letters that I really am starting to believe that if I was to be paid for writing letters—I would have a perfectly long and happy career. Sending my thoughts and love to strangers is healing and rewarding. I’ve found myself that happiest that I’ve been living in the Yukon. People here are hardy and sincere—a very refreshing break from the community that I’ve grown up in. When people have a problem, one can walk down the street, proclaim their need and have someone come out to help them within the minute. That’s just how things work in an isolated northern community. I’ve learned that friends come and go for various reasons, some simple and some hard to deal with. The hardest one to understand is lack of compassion.