weekends away

Today is my day off.

It's 5:33 and I'm too coffee-jittery. I drank two really great coffees today, so thick and oily that they sparkled (even when I added soymilk) but now I'm paying the price. My insides are all chattery and impatient. Adding to my general discomfort: I put on Paris Je T'aime hoping for some background noise but just got drawn into all the sad plots. I don't think I really like it. It seemed awesome when I saw it at the Broadway whenever it came out, but now...not so much. I like the one with the Spanish-speaking mom-nanny, but it's ungodly depressing. And the one with the little dead cowboy...but that's also depressing. I guess I am just not into sad stuff right now.

What problems!

Just kidding. It's really my fault for not using my day off more productively. I knit a few rows of the sweater I'm working on but that's about it. And got a new bank card. And went to therapy. I read Be Good in the tub. Wrote Maranda a letter and posted it. Maybe it wasn't so unproductive after all?

Last night I slept exceptionally well. My room was exactly the right temperature and pitch and I drifted off snuggled against CB. When he woke up and left for work I slept for another hour. I prefer sleeping in together, but this was a close second. Anyway, after an hour I got up and had bran flakes with soy milk and raisins (I pried them out of three of those little red boxes they come in: raisin fiend). And that oily delicious coffee I mentioned earlier.

My posts are always so mundane. I think mundanity makes me nice and calm, a good antidote for all the anxiety I have. "Mundanity" is not a word, and I think that's a problem.

Anyway...I hope everyone's doing well. Now it's time to put some food into my belly.

xoxo

let me show you girl that i know wrong from right

So, I went to a doctor for my once-a-year-complete physical (which I probably haven't had done in years...I think my last time seeing a family doctor was when I was 17. YIKES). She was the most doctorly doctor ever - extremely calm, cool, and collected, her reaction to any distress I was in was not to reassure me but to offer suggestions, etc. I think the stereotype of doctors as problem solvers and nurses as caregivers is not too far from the mark, in all reality. While sometimes I think I'd prefer to just see a nurse practitioner for all my medical needs, there is occasionally just something about someone who gets to the facts with or without your total emotional ease.

Anyway, it turns out that EVERYONE WAS RIGHT: taking a daily B complex is actually necessary. So I've started taking a B complex! I've never taken supplements in my nine years of being veg (except for a brief period last summer where I chomped down on Flintstones multivitamins like they were candy)...it turns out that B deficiency can actually make you - get this - MANIC. And depressed, irritable, etc. I'm looking forward to being a more pleasant person (well...potentially).

My mom is visiting for the summer and so it's meant long, awesome hangouts where we make pizza or strawberry jam, knit up a storm, traipse around the better coffee shops of Toronto and where she meets me for lunch when I'm at work. It's been pretty fantastic. I'm looking forward to next month when I'll get to see Cat and we'll do many similarly wonderful activities.

Today I'm wearing a totally ridiculous dress that I'm not entirely sure I can pull off at work, but we'll see. I hear bright blue gingham is due for a comeback.

xoxo
clara bee

a nightmare + the end of the academic year

I had a really terrible nightmare last night. Or maybe it just seemed terrible because I rarely have nightmares. Anyway, the details are vague now, but I do remember a rooftop party, a girl going missing, and sneaking away from the party when cops and ambulances showed up. I didn't know why I was leaving. I was afraid they would think I did it (not sure what).

The dawn approached, and I found Alison on the empty streets of Broadway. Blood was running into all the storm drains, flowing red. I asked in a tiny voice what happened, and she said "Everyone with running water has seen it this morning. Her blood." I felt so afraid and I asked Alison to hold my hand. She did and we walked up Main street. I wondered why I had left, and if they were going to think I killed her. Alison's hand was reassuring in mine. I could hear sirens in the background.

I awoke, shaking. My bare arms were very cold. I woke CB and whispered "I had a nightmare, can you please hold me?" He was still mostly asleep, but complied. Wasn't able to shake the feeling until the alarm went off at 6:40.

Tomorrow will be my last exam at school. I'm very much looking forward to this. My friend Michela and I studied for four hours this morning. I've done all the stuff necessary for CB and my trip to NYC, and am feeling much calmer than I did this morning. Right now I can't imagine anything better than going to museums and bookstores and zine libraries and vegan restaurants with my CB.

xoxo
cbl

the middle of things

Ah, school. I dislike it so much, yet it follows me around like a wheezing puppy I can't ignore. Actually, I think I'd much prefer a wheezing puppy to school, but I certainly wouldn't have the cash to pay for its vet bills. Anyway, one paper and three finals to go.

This weekend was TCAF, but I honestly spent very little time there, which is a bit of a downer. It happens every two years, I suppose, but I would've enjoyed going to some readings and panels. However, I had a pretty wonderful weekend anyway. CB and I slept in super late, ate falafel, were the hapless victims of an insane, unexpected thunderstorm, then came back to my house where he patiently sat next to me and kept himself occupied while I typed away at an essay. We ate pad thai at Jean's Vegetarian Kitchen (don't worry, I specified "no eggs") and returned, quietly keeping each other company until I decided to stop for the night and we fell asleep like exhausted kittens.

It sounds kind of...normal, I guess, but it was actually a really lovely time. What I'm looking forward to even more is when we can spend time together but I won't be doing school work. When we can chill and do creative stuff. CB is a top-notch person. For real. Risking sounding mushy, my day is always best when he's a part of it.

Anyway. It's time to get ready for work, if I don't want to be late, which...naturally I don't. By the way, I'm thoroughly enjoying the company I have at work, in particular two amazing individuals who laugh at my ridiculous and often nonsensical jokes and in turn tell equally ridiculous ones for me to giggle at.

Remind me to tell y'all about my hilarious Star Wars: A New Hope dream later.

xoxo
cbl

I'm wrapped up in a blanket on the couch before getting dressed for work as I write this, sipping a vegan breakfast smoothie that is kinda changing my life.

From Nicole Georges' Invincible Summer, Vol. I:

1 banana
1 cup soy milk
1 handful coconut shreds
1 heaping tablespoon almond butter
honey, to taste (I left it out, personally)
Blend it all up!

Seriously. Amazing.

School's been a bit of a bummer as of late, but I think I can handle it. Two more papers and three exams in the next three weeks, which is sort of horrifying, but totally doable. My self-confidence was bolstered by an academic adviser I ran into at a book launch (which I attended with the ever-lovely Jess) who remarked that my grades were very good. I mean...I guess so?

What else. Two of my zines got reviewed in Broken Pencil, which was unexpected and awesome. Unfortunately, the site doesn't have an online version of the print version, so you can't read it unless you have a copy. Anyway, this is really the shot in the arm I needed to start working on stuff again. This week, I sat at a little table in our backyard with my typewriter working on a new zine while Jess sat on a blanket in the (soon-to-be-mowed) grass, catching up on Canadian culture with a pile of arts magazines. It was a really fantastic feeling...one I hope to have again, as soon as finals are ooover.

Work has offered me some extra hours, which is good and bad - good because I need the cash, bad because it'll interfere a mite with studying this week. I think it'll end up being fine, but nonetheless I feel a shade nervous. I'll be so glad when school is all wrapped up and done with.

Anyway. I'd best be off, but I promise to try with more regular updates.

xoxo
cbl

this song you just learned

A year ago today, I arrived at Pearson International Airport with one big suitcase, knocked numb and hazy from Cat's wisdom tooth surgery painkillers she had given me to soothe my nerves for the plane. The reality of the move sunk in as I rode in the stiflingly hot backseat of my aunt's car.

That night, Felizia and I walked to the Big Carrot. I bought juice and vegetables to calm me. I got out a little piece of paper and called Andrew, asked him if he and Paul were still coming to visit me the next day. I put on the new shoes my dad had bought me. I cried as quietly as I could.

I thought of the little calendars I had kept in my room for months, counting down the days until I moved. I thought about how I stopped ticking the boxes towards the end. I thought about excited whisperings to Cat and Alison at Louis' one march night.

There are so many ways this place has become home, big and small: heartbreak, building a map of the city in my head, making fantastic friends, a shitty job, a great job, the discovery of beautiful tiny city secrets, getting lost and found on public transit, falling in love.

Tonight my roommates (upstairs and downstairs) are having a barbecue (and don't worry, there will be veggie burgers, and they will be grilled first) and I couldn't imagine better timing.

It is a good time for me to be alive.

I know I haven't updated in almost a month. For most of March, I just couldn't think of anything interesting to say (not that that's ever stopped me), and this past week has been of particular difficulty. It's been very hard to talk to anyone or make myself do anything.

On Monday, March 30th, I, along with all of my coworkers (some friends, some strangers) was informed that my dear friend and colleague had passed away. Out of respect to him, who was always a very private man, I don't wish to say too much about his role in relation to mine at work, but suffice to say we worked together every day since I began working there. I feel uncomfortable disclosing his cause of death, but yet I feel I must, for I'm simply not up for telling everyone separately now, and it is an important factor. He took his own life.

He was a big reason why I enjoy my work. Every day between ten and eleven (depending how busy it was), we'd make earl grey tea together. He did a perfect Ali G impression that made me laugh every time. There are never enough pens where we work, and they always go missing, so we'd routinely re-enact the "My Pen!" sketch from Kids in the Hall. He was a deeply spiritual and religious man, and right before he stopped coming to work, he lent me a fantastic book, which I wrote about here (the one about Islam and the West). He always wore birkenstocks, and up until the end of this week, they were still there in my workspace, tucked under a table. I kept staring at them and thinking "dead man's shoes", a phrase the origins of which I can't recall. It made me feel guilty. He is not a dead man, but my friend.

One time we discussed the band Einstuerzende Neubauten, him mentioning he had seen them in concert. After this friday, I had one of their songs stuck in my head and thought of how much it described this friend. Particularly, the line "it's in the open, but it doesn't get stolen". In a way, we all recognized how beautiful and amazing he was, but at the same time we never really got it. He was underappreciated. I never asked him if anything was wrong, because it never seemed like anything was.

My dear friend, I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry I didn't ask. I'm sorry I didn't tell you everyday how helpful you were to me, sorry that I didn't thank you for your patience and hard work. I miss you so much. We all do. I hope you found what you were looking for.

before we knew it

I'm in a super nostalgic mood today. Oh brother.

Lately I've found myself missing lots of people lately, particularly the very special and unique friendship I am lucky enough to share with Alison and Cat. Remembering the three of us at the Living Room or walking to J.S. Wood singing Tom Petty songs or driving in the green sedan to Jerry's for sorbet and then the Weir, shrieking with laughter.

These two women are so important. I wish I could properly convey that to you all. And I think we are made better by hanging out with one another. Sure, we're all cool girls on our own, but somehow we're better and brighter together. We are, as Vonnegut would say, of the same karass. Spring is coming and I know that around this time last year we were running down Lansdowne, no sweat sneakers hitting the snow-melty pavement, giggling like hell. I love those girls.

I also have been having some little pangs for other feelings that were developing around this time last year via Canadapost. Yeah...listening to MGMT and MIA and elaborately drawing monsters in shirts and ties on parcels. Before that other dude came along.

Oh, and I have it on good authority that at least two of my exes read this blog, which is sort of embarrassing, but more so for them, I think.

This is a really busy month for me. Lots of essays, etc. to finish. And lots of involvement! I'm going to a teach-in that No One Is Illegal is putting on and plan on attending their meetings more regularly. Also, *fingers crossed* I might be doing some art for a cool store I frequent. AND! Food Not Bombs.

Last night, after a big day of International Women's Day madness, I went to Dance Cave with my roommate and friend Jen and met up with some other good folks. Age of Consent came on and I dragged everyone to the dance floor, even though it wasn't the "cool" time to dance yet.

Doodle doo do d-d-do do do d-do...woooon't you please take me home...

Felizia and I went for brunch today. I made friends with this really great couple and mentioned to them that I have an irrepressible love of fake '50s diners, but can never find satisfying vegan options there. They referred me to Sadie's, this fantastic place on Adelaide and Portland. It has the perfect combination of total kitsch, great vegan food, and totally affordable prices. I can even go there for BRUNCH, an amazing meal which is too often only for omnivores and vegetarians. Felizia, a fairly hardcore meat-eater, also enjoyed it. We've agreed that it will be the Numero Uno Post-Hangover Destination.

And now: goodnight. There are more adventures to be had tomorrow, and with each passing day I know we are closer to spring.

this is just my own little unscientific inconsequential post-script

I think I'm getting sick. You know that feeling?

Last night, neither I nor my CPA (close personal associate, not certified public accountant) could sleep. Out of seemingly nowhere, he sat up in bed like an actor does in a movie after the character has an alarming dream and began, "If you were on a desert island..."

Among the things to decide were: what basic meal you would choose for the duration of my stay, what album you'd bring, and who you would get a yearly phone call to. The rest I can't really remember.

Anyway, I said tempeh and avocado sandwiches on whole wheat bread, Blonde on Blonde, and Cat (he chose chicken fried rice, Graceland, and one of his uncles). I don't consider Blonde on Blonde my favourite album of all time (in fact, I'm not entirely sure it would even be my favourite Dylan album or even on my top ten albums of all time), but I think it would be good desert-island music. Probably. Tempeh-avocado-sandwiches and Cat, on the other hand, are definitely two of my favourites of all time. There are other foods and people I love, of course, but nothing satisfies me like a tempeh avocado sandwich, or a more-than-an-hour-long phonecall with Cat.

The reason why I'm writing this seemingly inconsequential post is because I'm sick of studying for my final, even though said studying mainly consists of reading comic books, an otherwise enjoyable pursuit. I'm sorry for being such a slacker.

I am really looking forward to summer. Nightly, I dream of bicycle rides and evening walks and cotton dresses.

grand pianos crash together

For one reason or another, I just cannot get started on an essay today. It's totally beautiful outside and the perfect weather for a bicycle ride. But...the essay isn't gonna write itself, and it's on a book I like, so I should really just hop to it. After this...obviously.

I'm drinking instant coffee with cinnamon and brown sugar and it's pretty stellar, surprisingly. I'm insanely broke right now, so I cooked up a huge amount of beans in tomato sauce, which I will be eating with rice for the next...long time.

Lately I haven't been into straightening my hair or shaving my armpits. Two new habits I hope I can keep up. But I've been feeling as though I'm in highschool again...Monster Days. I know I'm not a monster but a human being, but it can be hard to believe sometimes. York girls all seem to have inexplicably long, shiny, perfectly styled hair and flawless clothes. I mean, it's not a style I aspire to, but none of these women look remotely awkward...their pants aren't baggy at the knees, or too long...they don't look uncomfortable in what they're wearing. Their (incredible expensive) shoes don't have holes or salt stains (how is that possible?!) and they all carry these huge-yet-unridiculous bags.

Meanwhile I'm wearing over-washed jeans that are way too baggy at the ankles and knees and shirts I've had since highschool with my frizzy hair tucked into a hat. But I speak a lot in class, so maybe they think I'm really confident and totally down with looking the way I do. Someday I will be!

Okay, for real, I'm going to start this essay so I can go for a bike ride tonight.

SIDENOTE: If you were wondering, Hallmark Day came and went with a trip to No Frills, a homemade meal, and an episode of Carl Sagan's Cosmos. So pretty much a typical night for my Close Personal Associate and me.

no one looks too surprised

I'm drinking green tea and listening to Billy Bragg, taking a break from this really good book my co-worker lent me. It's a conversation between Jacques Derrida and Mustafa Cherif and it's amazing. About Islam and the West, how there's no one Islam, how there's no one West, and how everyone needs to chill the fuck out about attacking religion. Haha. Oversimplified. It's a very graceful consideration of many important things. Not one-sided or anything at all, if that's how I'm making it sound.

Tired as hell. School is lots of reading. I might take a highschool chemistry class next year at night...the idea of doing a highschool course makes me nervous, but I think I might need chem 20 in order to do any programs of interest to me apres l'anglais degree. I'm so excited!

My friend Steph sent me a beautiful parcel with gifts from her and Maja. I may have mentioned this in my last quasi-drunken post. When I grow up, I want a submarine-themed Jacques Cousteau bathroom. And a pink office. Yeah, pink. Cotton candy-like. With ornate white frames with Steph's art in them.

(Oh and...by "office", I mean my own room, if I share a bedroom with someone. I think it's important to have your own space.)

Tonight CB and I supped on the finest stirfry: banana peppers, broccoli, carrots, tempeh, and red bell peppers in a thick homemade peanut sauce over brown basmati rice. I would like to be able to dedicate lots of time to every meal someday. Not just some pb & j every lunch, but something with actual vegetables and stuff. Don't get me wrong...I love the pb & j. But still.

YEAH I know I talk about food a lot, and "when I grow up". Sorry.

Things are good in the present too. I love everyone around me and work and even school is developing a faint spring-y glow when I hear sparrows chirping in the reed-thin young trees at York.

i am finally seeing

Tonight at the Red Room, Paul and Emma and Jessica and I drank so much sangria and then they started playing "The District Sleeps Alone Tonight" by the Postal Service. And everyone in the pub cheered so loud when Ben Gibbard sung "Smeeeaaaared black ink". Unbelievable. I used to listen to that song so much when I was 16, lying in my hammock, brittle hair snaking out from me. You know.

I also got a parcel from Steph today with the most beautiful things in it, including a silkscreen she named after me and a pair of earrings Maja made for me. It almost hurts (it does hurt) how wonderful most people are.

School is going fine, if you were wondering. I'm getting all As and A+s. After I finish this degree next year, I will do something with less theory and more practice. Like putting needles into people or listening to them talk about their problems...it depends on which program jumps to accept me first. And whether or not I'm a total flake.

Oh and...I called Ernest Hemmingway a "pretentious misogynistic blowhard" in my tutorial and my T.A., the ever-plaid-shirted Dave, laughed uncomfortably. It was awesome. I'm glad I got that off my chest.

bread and roses. i mean, essays.

So.

I'm going back to school this week, which will be weird, to say the least. I've been trying to do some work to lighten the feeling of total anxiety that will doubtless strike (haha) once I return to that Suburban Campus O'Doom. This morning I finished the longest essay that'll be due within a few weeks, only to find when I checked my email that it's due almost three weeks from now. In all reality, this is a good thing, because I'll be able to refine it and whatnot.

Later today: the starting of a short but kind of pain-in-the-ass paper on gender and power in The Bacchae and Antigone.

In other news, I've been crazy broke (croke, if you will) and thus trying to come up with Creative Kitchen Solutions (registered trademark). Last night I made some pretty good whole wheat soda bread, and currently in the oven is some raisin soda bread using the less-hardcore all-purpose flour. In case anyone doesn't know, soda bread is not filled with cream soda...it's a really dense Irish bread that doesn't use any rising agents (like yeast). So it's delicious and requires little-to-no patience! Oh, and usually it can be made with 5 or less ingredients, which is ideal.

I've also been eating a lot of rice and tempeh. Seriously looking forward to having the dough for some fresh vegetables and possibly some juice or something.

So, uh...this is likely not interesting to anyone else. And is poorly written, due to the fact that I've squeezed out an essay recently. My apologies.

Tonight I'm going to an Unsuperbowl Party. Not sure what exactly said party will entail. Meanwhile, my Close Personal Associate is going to be in small-town Southern Ontario watching two dudes beat the crap out of each other on TV. I'm thinking my time will be better spent.

little red wagon, little red bike.

I feel like if my heart was playing a board game, it would be RISK, and I'd be losing really, really badly, because all my little pieces would be spread out on different, unconnected areas of land.

Snerk snerk.

My school is going to be back in session soon. I'm prepping myself for numerous anxiety attacks.

Lately I've been drinking a lot of genmaicha tea and getting up like six times a night to pee, waking up everyone in the process. And eating vegetables. Too many. If I have to eat cauliflower or broccoli again in the next 48 hours, I'm going to hurl.

A couple nights ago, as I was falling asleep on a cramped single bed, I remembered sitting outside The Outhouse (not an actual outhouse, but a big white house on Clarence that several of my friends have lived in at various stages of my life) after a living room show with Rachel and having one the most honest conversations we had ever had. Then her and a boy who she had dated walked me home, and I remember feeling like her and I had a weirdly powerful secret.

We ended up having a secret, but it wasn't weird or powerful.

Secrets and suspension and uncertainty are usually things with a lot of potential, but that potential doesn't always arrive. That's why they're so fun and scary in the first place.

I'll post something more concrete someday.

dishes and last week's papers

V and I were talking on the phone. She was telling me about how so many of our highschool friends are in or applying for med school. How some of them aren't and are horrified with themselves.

We were in a group for "accelerated learners", which is to say, there were 40 or so of us (in a graduating class of about 200 kids) who had all our classes together and were continually told what stereotypes we fitted and given continual tips on how to stick with them. I'm being unfair. There were some great teachers. Maybe the wretchedness of highschool just casts such a program in a grisly pall.

Anyway. "Everyone's just at a crossroads, I guess," V said.

"I'm not. I'm not even at the crossroads yet."
"Me neither."

In all honesty, I don't even know where to go right now. I've been out of school since November 6th because of this bloody strike and I honestly can't imagine going back. The very thought makes me feel queasy. Working three days a week certainly isn't enough, and I'm becoming increasingly unmotivated with my own pursuits.

I need to kick my own ass.

Then again: is it so bad to be the girl who wears braids and reads books but maybe doesn't get all the metaphors and references, who works at a clinic for a decent wage (knock freaking wood) and makes her friends big vegan meals, the girl whose schedule is so flexible that when you call and say "My back hurts", she actually says "I'll be over to fix it in a moment"? I mean, I'm happy. I have more money in my CPP than anyone else I know who's my age. I feel kind of like a grown-up Pippi Longstocking.

In other news, I got a tiny parcel from some eBayer from Maryland today. Three sweet as hell E.T. necklaces that cost under $5 (shipping included). Currently sporting one of E.T. and Elliott where E.T. kind of looks like a disgusting giant penis (watch as my blog counter goes up by 2000 for use of the phrase "giant penis").

Awesomely, The Weakerthans are touring with the Constantines for the first time in four years. It's twenty-five bones, which is approximately $15 more than I've ever paid to see them, but for their sweet highschool meaningfulness, it is worth it to me. I will likely be attending with my favourite set of brothers.

If anything, I just want to hear them bring Reunion Tour alive. It's a good little album, but just didn't quite get me like, say, Left and Leaving. I know, I know. Blah blah they're poets not musicians. Whatever. They are so good at making beautiful things.

What would you say is the most thrilling beautiful process in the whole world?

I would say something involving skin, because skin is such a beautiful, thrilling organ. When I was a young teenager and had never even kissed someone or held someone's hand, I would often daydream of how I would just like to touch someone's face. To feel how someone else's anatomy fits together, I think, or maybe just because I was a painfully lonely kid who felt utterly starved for contact.


But anyway.


I'm reading Kurt Vonnegut's Galapagos at the moment and it, too, is thrilling and beautiful. Feeling a little bit worried about my "big brain". Something in his writing has this ability to push (gently push) at a highly sensitive point in your chest, even with the silliest things.

My bedroom is so cold. I haven't slept here much at all this week and I'm re-acclimatizing. No warm extra body for me tonight! But I'm planning on an early sleep before work tomorrow.

Incidentally, it has struck me how very very lucky I am to work where I do with the people who also do. I know that someday, when I leave that tiny chart room, I will dearly, dearly miss it.