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.
Friday, April 24, 2009
Sunday, April 5, 2009
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.
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.
Sunday, March 8, 2009
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.
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.
Wednesday, February 25, 2009
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.
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.
Sunday, February 15, 2009
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.
Tuesday, February 10, 2009
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.
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.
Friday, February 6, 2009
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.
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.
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