Diary of a 20-Something Blog Virgin

Sell Out, Shmell Out

2011-07-24T06:53:00.001-06:00

About a week ago, I went to Moxie’s to visit some of my ex-coworkers/now-girlfriends for dinner. Every time I visit, I always promise myself to make more of a habit out of it. Being there always seems to bring about that comfort of nostalgia I so often crave. That feeling you get when you come back home after a lengthy trip: happy you left in the first place, as your departure was what lead you through a new journey, but somewhat relieved to be back all the same. Back in your comfort zone, letting the breath you kept held for so long finally come out, letting go of the anticipation and anxiety that you held with you through every unknown step of your latest experience. The reason that these feelings are so bound up for me in what was merely one of several past part-time jobs is twofold—one being that I quit and asked for to be re-hired so many times, that feeling of “coming back” is just hardwired into my emotions by now, two—I have more memories of waking up after a swift nap in the staff lunch booths than I do of waking in my own bed. Anywho, being that it is a restaurant, banter and fun-poking is an essential part of the culture at Moxie’s. So, I was anything but shocked or offended when the conversation between my former boss and the group turned into a full out ridicule directed towards me for “selling out my dreams of writing” for the money and comfort that a job in the insurance industry will (hopefully) give me. It did, however, leave me a nagging thought, a kind of inspiring itch. I took the route of comfort to be able to enjoy my passion as a hobby instead of begrudge it as a job. Yet it seems that I have become over-absorbed in my new life, woven two tightly into the rigidity of routine and schedules. My fiery passion in which I once pursued this hobby has instead now fizzled down to a permanent degree of room temperature on the back burner of my life. So Tom, this one’s for you. Just* to show you I can make money and* write all at the same time.:)

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I bought a new pair of running shoes for the gym yesterday. It’s always a somewhat emotional experience for me. (Being a cancer zodiac, to the core, most of all experiences tend to evoke some sort of unnecessary emotion) But when you thrive on the gym as much as I do, you would understand why. Well, first of all, I should explain that, growing up, inanimate objects took on probably much more human qualities than they should have. (Thanks, Mel-Sac). Names were given to toys and things that usually don’t get named, personalities were given to objects that wouldn’t necessarily have a personality in real life, well, objects that couldn’t even possibly have a real life. Essentially, let’s just say we lived in a Pinocchio-esque type of environment in our younger years—we treated all of our puppets as real-live-boys.
It’s only normal that those types of feelings towards my things have carried on through to my adulthood, right? (Just agree and read on).
After confirming that my new shoes had made the cut (through a trial run on the treadmill), I deliberated solemnly on how to properly dispose of my older, worn out runners. A special, separate, bag just for them, I decided. They can’t just get dumped in the big black bag that gets tossed so thoughtlessly to the curb. No, they needed a proper burial. It’s only appropriate, I think. We’ve come so far together, my shoes and I. We could’ve toured an entire small European country in the miles that we’ve ran. They have taken me on some motivating and inspiring trips. They have weathered with me through the bad days--always there to pick up my slack. They have kept my feet dry and clean on days when I decide to abuse them on unforgiving concrete or the unpredictable shore line of whatever given ocean of the country I’m currently visiting. They’ve seen me through to my goals and beyond. They stood by me proudly as I crossed the finish line of yet another 10k, pushing me to keep my pace, to meet my hoped-for time. They’ve kept my feet grounded as I push my legs to do one more squat, lent me the power to push my arms to press just 5 pounds heavier, stayed firm so I can do just one more sit up. Pushed me to my very limit and then showed me I can do even just a little bit more…
Tomorrow will be garbage day. Tonight, with memories in mind, I will pack up my shoes in their special going-away bag. In the morning, they will sit proudly on the curb, their worn-out condition a proud reminder of everything they’ve accomplished, more significantly though, all they’ve help me to accomplish. My eyes may not have memorized their make, or model, or colour, but my mind will remember the lesson they taught me in the power of perseverance, my memory will embed in it all the strides we took together, my muscles will remember the endurance we gained, the strength we accrued.
And so you see, sometimes it’s not so bad to invest emotion into every experience—whether it be a relationship with a simple running shoe, or the memory of an insignificant part time job. What if, instead of making you “weak” or “vulnerable”, “emotionally too-available”, it makes you wiser? Helping you to learn that much more from that much little; helping you to grow faster and stronger—taking something with you every time you walk away, from whatever it is you’re walking away from, as your foundation of growth for wherever it is you may be going.

Rut a tut tut...

2010-11-16T07:45:00.000-07:00

My diary posts are almost always inspired by conversation topics that I find to be recurring at any given point in time. Don't you sometimes feel like certain issues just keep on crossing your path? I don't know how or why it happens, but it always gets me thinking...

These past few days I've been thinking a lot about our insecurities and our personal thoughts on our own self-worth. Well, I can't say it's a new topic on this blog, I'm quite sure I've mentioned it several times in the past, but for some reason the issues seems a little more pressing...not only in my mind, but in the minds of others. Recent conversations with friends (from various circles might I add), and the December 2010 issue of Shape Magazine has me convinced that I'm not the only one that ponders or struggles with this issue.

Somewhere, deep in the back of my restless, vast (though not necessarily crowded) mind, I know that I have come a long way. I am sure that I have accomplished a lot...whether it be in terms of education or in terms of health and fitness. I know it. But how often do I believe it? That's a different story...

One of the several articles in Shape that focus on this issue brought up an interesting point: "Most people pay attention to the huge achievements int heir lives: running a marathon, hitting a five-year mark on their marriage, losing 25 pounds. But by also celebrating your smaller triumphs, you'll be happier and up your odds of reaching those bigger feats." (p. 32) As obvious as this statement might sound, when I read it I kind of experienced a eureka moment. A marathon of interviews recently, for both small part-time retail positions and larger full-time career jobs, forced me to speak openly about my past accomplishments. I had no trouble rambling on and on about the charity fashion shows I organized, or my graduation from a top Canadian university, but never once did I come out and say "well, yesterday I was especially tired, hungover and lazy, but I got my ass to the gym and did the best that I could anyways, even if it was half of what I usually do." Why not? In retrospect I realize what an accomplishment that was for me, at that moment in time, and how much of a struggle it turned out to be, but at the time I would never see it that way. Why not, again? Because at the time, all my negative mind could focus on was how upset I was at the fact that I wasn't doing my best and that my workout wasn't as intense or as long as it should have been. Maybe if I focused on how much it was I would have felt much more confident (which is exactly how I should feel) slapping on a skirt and nylons that same evening for a night out on the town...

Isn't it so funny how our mind works? ...But is it our mind, or how our mind is trained to think? Sometimes I feel like we programmed to expect the worst and dismiss the best. A friend of mine said to me recently that whenever she's blessed with a bit of success, the thought of it being ripped away from her scares her away from pursuing the said opportunity she's presented with. I've felt that many times myself.

Isn't it funny how I am now exactly who I wanted to be 5, 10, 15 years ago, yet I'm still not satisfied? The chubby, teased little girl of my past is screaming and yelling at me from inside, reminding me how many tears were cried in yearning of the body I've worked so hard to achieve....why do I keep silencing her?

Isn’t it funny…how the things we are most hard on ourselves are the things that people seem to compliment us the most on?

Isn’t it funny…how after one hurtful experience, we are so quick to build a wall around our emotions and ourselves, that seems so impenetrable? That one hurtful relationship outcome fills us up with so much self doubt and drains us of our self love to the point where moving forward seems so daunting, so impossible?

Isn't it funny that when we initially receive a compliment, of any kind, we are elated, but in the end, how long do we actually carry it with us? I'm speaking for myself only, but I find as soon as I step back into the ever-critical workings of my mind, the kind words and happy thoughts are instantly replaced with harsh reminders of all the goals I have yet to achieve.

I wish I could conclude this post with a suggestion, with encouraging words. And I don't want to be depressing or negative. There are days when I could run to the top of the mountain and shout to the world how proud I am of myself. But then there are the dark days, when I can feel the failure in every over-worked muscle in my body...including my heart, my mind. I think that we all need to realize that these painful feelings are unavoidable. That no one can be positive all the time. That the gym won't always make you feel better after you binged one too many times. I think the second we can see past these feelings, when we are plagued with them, we will realize that the brighter side as never really left us, that it will creep into our horizon again slowly, if only we have a itty bitty bit of patience, if we just keep on keepin' on...

Sleepytime Tea is a Rip Off

2010-11-11T02:51:00.000-07:00

Mission camomile tea=fail

Mission eat early to avoid nightmares=fail

Mission warm glass of milk=fail

Mission cut coffee and other caffeinated products from diet=fail

Mission cut down on workouts=fail

Mission sleep=epic fail

Seriously, will I plagued with insomnia for the rest of my life?

On to the next...

2010-11-10T04:38:00.000-07:00

After LiLi's Diary spent some time on the shelf, as the desk of femme fraiche left very little room for its pages, I've decided to brush the dust off the cover and indulge myself in some non-foodie-writing. It just so happens that my thoughts are once again inspired by a life change, obviously.

This summer, as I restlessly lay in the Taormina heat, my idle mind wandered to many-a-places. Shortly before I left, I met with my cousin, Twin, to get to talking about the possibility of a career in the insurance industry--something I would not have even looked over once, not to mention twice, on my own. It is my firm belief, however, that ignorance is not always bliss, that sometimes when a little light is shed on something that might be out of our line of sight, we might realize it may be much more fitting than we could ever imagine. With careful thought and research, and a compelling testimony thanks to AP, the dirt road to my future began to take on a much more paved gleam. I decided to pursue it more feverioushly upon my arrival back home.

I am a self-proclaimed extremly impatient person. Well, that's not entirely true, but when I want something I want it and I want to have it....5 minutes ago. So as the vacation came to an end, and the Moxie's bashing with TBagg became more intense with every vodka water San-Pellegrino-Lime, my need to leave (again) hit its strongest point. When I got home, I called my close friend LG on the ASAP to set up an interview with her at her store, even though it meant a move from one retail place to the next. A move was all I really needed, I told myself, to get the ball rolling. I wanted to have a full-time position by Christmas, and I needed the motivation that change and challenge bring me to accomplish my goal.

I got the new job with LG, but unfortunaletly, the position did not work out the way I thought it would. So after leaving Moxie's not once, but twice, I returned. Though this time, I had a little less patience in my drive and a lot more desire to move to the next step in my life than ever before. I spent the past few months sending my emails out into the abyss of the internet, a process I have become oh-so-familiar with since graduation, only to learn that the opportunity I was looking for would come knocking on my inbox door. After a referral thanks to AP, two interviews, a gruelling waiting game (whoever said patience is a virtue obviously never had to wait for anything), I was informed yesterday that I got the job!

My excitement for starting this next phase continues to course through me with fever, as I sit here, the next morning, after a night of extremely restless sleep. It's funny how my stomach knots got tighter with energy as I learned the good news, instead of unravelling like I expected them to. In less than two weeks time, I will officially become the career girl I have been dying to be for some time now.

For any one who graduates without a definite plan, the process of finding your path can be both disheartening and depressing. Just when I thought my objective of being employed by December 25th was unattainable, opportunity presented itself and I learned once again to never doubt your goals. And on top of that, how important it is to make them in the first place.

As I pat myself on the back, I wish it were your hands that were patting me too...

"I could use a dream or a genie or a wish..."

2010-07-07T08:19:00.000-06:00

"to go back to a place much simpler than this..."-B.O.B feat Hayley Williams-Airplanes

Usually on my drives home from the gym, my energy is exploding: if weather permits, windows are down, music is on so loud it almost drowns out my even louder singing. But today, after consecutive workout numero 6, my car rang with the sounds of only professional artists, albeit, my windows were still down thanks to 35 degree weather (at 9 am) This time I decided to actually listen to the words of the songs, instead of trying to sing over them.

One, in particular, caught my ear (?<--insert appropriate saying here). From B.O.B feat Eminem and Hayley Williams Airplanes: "And back when I was rappin' for the hell of it, But now a days we rappin' to stay relevant". I thought it was so true. I am not a rap-game-aficionado, but it is still easy to see how the industry has changed. Before, rapping about money and women and cars made you famous and kept you around, now fans are much more educated, now they want something with more substance.

And I thought to myself, now how true is this for so much else in life, so many people, so many situations?

Is ignorance really bliss? Take, for instance, when someone you love is sick or in trouble: would you rather turn a blind eye to avoid having to deal, or scrutinize anybody and everybody for each and every detail in order to be supportive? I remember when I was hit with my first tragedy--when the life of my fun-loving free spirited Uncle Wally was taken from him, and from us. The months of his illness are like a bunch of hazy clouds in my mind--and not because I was too young to have a decent memory of them, but because I felt like I was getting constantly left in the dark, having information withheld from me to protect me, not upset me. I was so angry. My aunt called one day and I pressed her for details. When she glossed over the subject I freaked out. I am not the ignorance-is-bliss type, my curiosity does not allow it. (Although sometimes my mind wishes it would, to keep the fairytale I build in my mind alive and kicking)

I'm not just talking matters of the heart here. This lyric made my thoughts split into a few different strands. I can remember the day, although not clearly or from personal experience, when post-graduate education of any form made you a big deal. When you still had to rip the sides off printer paper. When the internet still required me begging my teenage phone-obsessed siblings to let me share the line so I could chat on MSN. Now, only a short time later, everything has changed. Only PhDs or professional post-grad programs get you a career, and even that is not a gaurentee. Now the internet is a whole other world and if you missed the boat, good luck finding yourself a seat when you finally manage to clambour aboard. Options are endless for anyone for everyone. Apparently, our generation is just as stubborn as am I when it comes to unveiling the truth, discovering new things, breaking barriers. We have broken more than I think any of us imagined and good for us! But not so good for our futures. When, in the past, there were still windows of opportunity in a lot of fields, now, so many markets are flooded. Jobs that used to require merely experience now ask for degrees and when you show them that, they ask you for a profile that'll impress, enough to make you memorable out of the million other candidates who came before and will definitely come after.

As I see it, you have two options when faced with this challenge. Option one is to keep your innocence, remain ignorant, move on to something else and push your heart's desires to the last page on your agenda. Or you can jump in, take a deep breath, and work slowly. Despite the fact that my refusal to remain uneducated has also given me a slight case of anxiety, all the while leaving me feeling a bit like im constantly drowning, I will not give up my fight for success. It is not every day when I stumble across feelings so passionate. It is even more rare when they last longer than a day, or an afternoon, or an hour. You know that feeling? The one where every compliment or step forward makes you all giddy, every set back only pushes you harder...the one that makes you re-think a routine you normally follow so stubbornly--makes you want to throw it all away and just dive into your dream full-force, no strings attached, nothing holding you back. The one that stays on your mind, even when you want a break, you ask it stop, you try to remove yourself. It is a high I refuse to let fall.

Trust me, if you love it enough, it is worth it. And it is not so cold once you get used to the water...

My mind's in suburbia

2010-06-23T08:39:00.002-06:00

Both a recent day trip to the city (with my mama, just like old times) and a recent registration at my previous home-away-from-home (U of T) has had me falling in love all over again with T.O. My daily routine of gym-work-home-sleep has kept me confined to the two major intersections that make up Woodbridge (Weston/Langstaff, Weston/Hwy 7) and it was refreshing to get back into the city for a full day, to walk the same walk I did for four years, to take it all in again. Travelling through the area of Castle Loma got me thinking of Paris, both of the grandeur of Versailles and the chic simplicity of the Parisian-styled town homes that line the neighbouring streets. International delicacies made me realize that European adventures, although cherished and constantly craved, can be made locally if you just open your mind and do some online research.

But after a tiring day, yes, downtowning coupled with a lengthy pit stop at Yorkdale (standard) does get me sleepy, I must say it was nice to come back home. My parents have always had a knack for picking just the right streets to move to--despite moving twice in the past few years, I have never felt uncomfortable and have always felt at home even on moving day, even in the chaos. (I guess it helps that we have stayed in a 5km basis for each move, but that's besides the point). My first home is where I lived the dream childhood--I met my two soul mates, we created our fantasy world and grew up in that bubble. I think a lot of my time is still spent living in it now, even though I'm gone, even though I've grown. My second home was the ideal drop-in spot--all my friends were always welcome on my front porch at anytime, my backyard was the perfect setting for keg parties and flip cup games on rainy nights (thanks to our roofed patio). My current home welcomed me from the start--small and cozy, with neighbours so typical of picture perfect suburban life it makes me tingle with warmth at the very thought. An image of my daily witnesses pops in my head: grandparents taking their kids to school, young guys washing their cars and dirt bikes, everyone gathering at the white plastic table and chairs on warm summer, spring and fall evenings, placed strategically on their front yard, paved just for that reason, to welcome any and all of their neighbouring home owners.

I am naturally a home body, my horoscope even says so, so alot of sentiment is held in my home life for me. And that is all-encompassing--from the actual structure, to the lot surrounding it, to the neighbours, to the landscaping on the yard, to the trees that line the curbs, to the feeling I get when I round the corner, turn on my street and unlock my door. For my whole life, home always been a suburb. My childhood memories are comprised of annual block parties, bike riding adventures, street sports, convenience store runs, gossiping owners of corner pizza joints, walking to school and home without a guardian. My current days are full of comforting familiarity--seeing the same people at the gym everyday, the regulars at work, cashing out with the same person daily at Fortino's, having that instant camaraderie whenever you meet a fellow citizen..my life has always been in suburbia, and I don't think I could ever leave.

Looking for a bridge over flooded waters...

2010-06-21T13:31:00.000-06:00

Sometimes I feel like I am living in a world where I am constantly standing in flooded waters. Why is it that everything always seems so over done, so many times repeated?

Maybe it is the universe that I'm choosing to immerse myself in right now, but it seems to me like the creative arts job market is becoming more and more popular with each passing day. There is no such thing as being arts-minded or inclined anymore. Both print and online resources make any skill accesible to anyone willing to put in the research time and work effort. With a promotion of expressing your personality so evident--from blogging, to Facebook profiles, to Twitter and all the way down to personalized desktop backgrounds and cell phone skins--the pressure is on for everyone to stand out, in their own unique creative way. What does this mean? For one thing, a world with a lot less black and white (which, for a colour junkie like me, seems like not such a bad thing). But on the other hand, it also makes jumping into the world of writing seem beyond daunting....making me feel too old while also making me feel too young...like a naiive little girl with too many questions to ask and not enough answers to give.

Learning the ropes of a new field is both exciting, for a curious mind, yet exhausting, for the mind of a self-diagnosed sufferer of ADD. So much information is available at our finger tips...but what do we do with it? What is important enough for us to absorb, and what should we let trickle out our opposite ear? What may be new and exciting and world changing for me, may be old news to the rest of the world. How do I make myself interesting to read while supplying information that is both knowledgable and relevant for both educated and uneducated minds in my particular field of interest?

By the same token, this is not the case for arts careers only. I think about professional fields like law, medicine and teaching especially, where the extra schooling replaces the unpaid internships but still does not gaurentee you a secure job position once you've been handed your diploma. Gone are the days when education put you a step ahead. Here are the days of doubled student loans courtesy of unemployment and brutal interest rates.

So as I begin my journey, I look for inspiration in everything and everyone. Recent advice from several people has always been the same: write, write write and do some reading and write some more. I am particularly reminded of my good friends LC and EC, and my mom, who have given up so much of their time in devotion to the passion for their future. LC, with her countless volunteer hours spent in classrooms, with high school teams, in the basements of churches teaching catecism classes, and so much more I'm sure I'm unaware of. And EC with her absurdly impressive writing resume which I am both envious and so very proud of. And of course, my mom, who miraculously managed to work full time, go back to get her BA, go to teacher's college, and still always manage to have lunches made, dinner ready and clothes ironed for us on a daily basis. What has this landed them, you ask? An acceptance letter from every teacher's college school of choice, a brand new career as editorial assistant at a Rogers magazine, and a career title change from underappreciated office manager to many student's (at many different schools) supply teacher of choice. And so I will try to emulate their success with their same persistance and perservance. And despite my recent lack of effort on the blogging part, I will write until my fingers bleed and my laptop battery dies.

Home may be where the heart is...but who says he can't have a vacation cottage?: Vecchio Frak

2010-05-15T13:19:00.002-06:00

After a stressful day at work, serving strangers and refilling too many waters on the patio, I decided I needed a good hearty comfort-food meal. Growing up with an Italian background, in an Italian neighbourhood, comforting food doesn’t come to me in grilled cheese sandwiches or BBQ burgers, but in wood-oven thin crusted pizzas and fresh homemade pastas. You could understand why I felt the only suitable place to satisfy my cravings would be good ol' College St. After a traffic-less drive, a lucky parking spot and a wind-filled wander, we ended up at Vecchio Frak, where we were warmly greeted by a familiar-looking host. In true mia casa è tua casa fashion, we were welcome to seat ourselves at any spot we favoured. The restaurant was just the right amount of being European-chic--it didn't make me feel underdressed nor did it make me feel like I went through a time warp to the 80s. Unlike so many spots on College, the restaurant seemed to seat many without forcing you to rub elbows with other patrons. The interesting and lengthy drink list only triggered my indecisive tendencies, so I let the server (with the Italian accent--common among almost all the employees in this restaurant, and a weak spot for me) be my guide in beverage selection--and he read me all too well, sending me over a larger-than- life-sized version of my favourite cocktail: a pina colada. Antipastos definitely had us contemplating skipping entrees, but our decision not to was wise in the end. The perfectly flavoured bruschette miste was just soft enough (but not mushy) to keep the fresh toppings on the bread from becoming castaway victims to the plate. The tonno, olive e patate salad was not over dressed and the potatoes reminded me of the ones I used to cherish from the tavola calda at the Italian bakeries by my house. The Campolina pizza with mozzarella, truffle oil, mushrooms and eggplants was authentically rustic and thin--but not the thin that doesn’t go straight from dough to burnt. The truffle oil added that amazing flavour that only truffle oil can master and the eggplants were cooked just right, with the skin left on, but with not a hint of bitterness. The risotto alla pescatore was seasoned well and the rice was cooked perfectly al dente. Although the fish variety included much of the ocean, it seemed to be a little too al-dente itself. Our full stomachs forced us to pass on dessert. Instead we ended a pleasant evening with a Campari and soda and a Gaggia-made cappuccino. The simplicity of the experience made it ideal--friendly service, light and fresh fare in a favoured location. Added bonus? Discovering that the familiar host was a long-lost elementary school friend who just moved back to Canada after living in Italy for 8 years. Needless to say, my nostalgic cravings were more than thoroughly satisfied. A genuine offer to return by the staff will surely be accepted in the near future.

http://www.flickr.com/photos/buttercuplane/

Get Lost

2010-05-13T16:24:00.001-06:00

If my past blogs haven’t made it obvious enough, I’m the type of person who finds myself most completely when I am nowhere to be found. I like to lose myself in my surroundings, whether they be scenery, literature, magazines, a conversation, or a movie. You’ll often find me ignoring my less-interesting guests at work in favour of a juicy conversation (usually about travel) with some of our regulars. As a moody Cancer, it’s not too unpredictable that my source of distraction changes quickly and often. I find I think most clearly when my mind is fuelled with interesting topics and captivating visions. Today I’m dedicating my blog to my favourite way to pass the time--playing hide and seek (with secret hopes of never being found)

Here’s a sneak peak to this week’s top-secret hiding spots:

The Forgotten Garden by Kate Morton: who ever said whimsical could only be found in the Fantasy section at Chapters? I’m not quite through this one yet, as I’m indulging slowly to savour the imagination-provoking text about mystery, fairy tales and knowing your true self. The constant change of scenery and time period keep you on your toes and keep my easily-distracted mind entertained thoroughly. The book takes place in the early 1900s, the 1970s and some-what present day (2005) following three different characters travelling between England and Australia in hopes of self-discovery. As a reader, I anxiously read to discover with them, all the while trying to unravel the mysteries of their pasts that slowly reveal themselves throughout the text. A book that never quite gives you all the answers but is always provoking questions--need I say more?

Food & Wine-May 2010: Nothing like a good gourmet food magazine to make you hungry. But for anyone whose been tempted enough to look past the salivating cover knows there’s much more to magazines like this one than just luxurious and strenuous recipes. Two articles in particular struck my attention in this month’s issue:

Red Wine & Vegetables: Friends or Foes by Ray Isle profiles Californian vineyard owner and restaurateur Randall Grahm and his chef Charlie Parker and their tendency for (successful) odd wine pairings. Anyone who knows me, or has at least caught sight of me even once in a school cafeteria or work back-room knows I should be part-rabbit for how much I love fruits and veggies. Needless to say, I obviously took pleasure in reading how well his “spicy 2007 Bonny Doon Bien Nacido Syrah [one of my favourite varietals] matches beautifully with Parker’s warm-main course salad of young turnips with greens, black olives and hazelnuts”. The success is credited to the earthy properties of root veggies. How relieving it is to know I can have my cake and drink my red, too.

Soup Nazis have more than just a bubbly big-haired Elaine to worry about nowadays. In Where Chefs go to see the Future, Anya von Bremzen talks about international chef congresses that are putting the concept of “secret ingredients” in the past by showcasing master chef’s creating complex dishes right before your (and the media’s) eyes. This article brought in stark contrast for me just how accessible cooking techniques have become for us--from the internet to the Food Network, it seems anyone can become an insta-Cordon Bleu graduate. This is something I defintely have taken granted of (with my search bar). But at second thought it kind of saddens me--will showing too much to too many take the magic out of cooking, discredit the talent in the creators?

Don’t forget to check out a tribute to the Great North (that means us, of course) in the travel secton (A Superselective Guide to Canada’s Best Wine and Food). Planning a back-packing venture any time soon? Let the go list be your guide when it comes to dinner restaurant choices and perfect wine pairings: 100 Best New Food and Drink Experiences. Renovating? (or just planning your future dream kitchen as I often do), Ted Allen offers some expert tips for creating a space fit for a culinary king (or even the top chef master of your castle) in Ted Allen’s Renovation Challenge.

The Young Victoria -The beautiful backdrops of traditional English gardens and castles made this the perfect Sunday afternoon film for someone who plans to travel to London in the near future. The movie profiles the life of the legendary Queen Victoria and her successful reign despite a somewhat premature possession of the crown. An essential love story kept me glossy eyed and was made all the more delicious with some seriously wise casting choices. Her self-assured personality and determination for success made me thinking girl-power thoughts for the whole 105 minutes of the film, all the while making me re-think a second degree in English history.

Toronto Life- June 2010

This month’s feature article, 50 Reasons to Love Toronto Now, covers what we love most about our city--from educational reformers like Chris Spence, to restaurants dedicated solely to a comfort food fave, Grilled Cheese, offered up in ten tantalizing versions in Kensington Market. My favourite of the list was number 9, though--The Toronto Temperance Society. An ode to all the cliques, high-society and the no-boys/girls-allowed treehouse mentality, this members-only club located above Sidecar on College is a drinking club for the wealthy. For an annual fee just shy of $300 dollars, members sip on only-the-best cocktails while abiding by strange clubhouse rules (the most entertaining being a strict no-cosmo policy that, if broken results in immediate removal from the premises). Definitely tickles my Gossip Girl fancy.

Here’s what’s next on my list of indulgences:
Rumors by Anna Godbersen…Part 2 of The Luxe teen series
The Sweet Life in Paris by pastry chef David Lebovitz
Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland and Through the Looking Glass the classic by Lewis Carroll (a must-read before London)
The House at Riverton by Kate Morton (Forgotten Garden)
The latest issue of FASHION that just arrived in my mail box today
And of course next month issues of my faves from the stands

Any suggestions??

Al Gusto

2010-05-12T20:40:00.003-06:00

Tucked away in a hiding spot so common to many Vaughan venues (that is, an industrial park), sits Al Gusto-- restaurant, pizzeria, gelateria, bakery, cafe, etc. This multi-purpose venue offers you everything you crave all in one spot with the added convenience of being open 24 hours a day, 7 days a week (a notable difference when comparing it to most other neighbourhood bakeries that close no later than 8pm).

Nostalgic for Europe, as always, and anxious for a gelato experience to allow my taste buds to reminisce the way my mind does constantly, I made my first visit to Al Gusto with great friend Alessandra Nicole. I must say, when I first entered I was slightly disappointed. At first look, the large size and serene-ness of the place did not bring me back in time or evoke any sense of familiarity. But a closer examination proved me wrong. Not only does the pastry counter offer every traditional delicacy imaginable like canoli and mini tiramisu (were my eyes fooling me, or did I miss out on the cornetti?) but the gelato bar is fully stocked with both classic flavours like Nocciola, Amaretto, Fragola and Banane and the less common selections of Kinder and Fior di Latte. Not only iss the bar obviously accented with oak wood, but the shelves that line the mirrored walls are faced with bottles of spirits, wines and liqueurs and, of course, boxes of Baci chocolate.

The cozy clustered cafe tables in the front of the restaurant are home to a wide range of guests on this rainy Tuesday evening--a pair of girlfriends catching up, a large group of young parents and their children, several mid-older couples, and a group of young espresso-sparkling-water-drinking men. The typical crowd, familiar decor, predictable menu and delicious cappuccinos painted a beautiful picture of a night in Roma (with the added bonus of a young staff with, get this, authentic, straight from the home-land accents, working alongside their elderly parents). I indulged in a banana-stracciatella mixture (my two ultimate faves) while Ale opted for a chocolaty mixture of banana and Bacio. Both were a pleasant serving size and both came with brightly coloured wafer rolls (to be enjoyed as a mixture of crunchy and creamy). Despite an educational conversation on the Canadian music industry with Ale (aspiring Canadian girl-group artist from Queen of Hearts, check them out at http://www.queenofheartsmusic.com/), our cappuccino mugs and gelato cups were quickly emptied (and by emptied I mean licked clean).

Although, the experience did allow me a quick peek down memory lane, lingering patrons reminded me that, in harsh reality, we were not in Italy and gelatos-to-go in colourful coppas were not to be enjoyed on cobblestone streets that did not await us outside...ahh, some things just aren't replaceable.

Al Gusto is located at 8099 Weston Rd (between Highway 7 and Langstaff) with an additional entrance from Jevlan. In addition to its cafe brimming with sweet treats, Al Gusto is also a pizzeria, salumeria and full-service ristorante with a tavola calda and pane.

a picture can say a thousand words and create a thousand thoughts

2010-05-10T11:02:00.002-06:00

i have too many dreams, i fear. i spend much too much of my time thinking and get easily discouraged when it comes to doing. i'm learning to find things that keep me motivated and keep my creativity animated. courtesy of m-sac, i have been using vi.usalize.us as my stimulant. i suggest you all spend an hour (or six...like me) on this site whenever you need a good push out of reality into the wrong direction. here are a few of my faves from today:

Fresh to Death

2010-05-10T04:30:00.003-06:00

Happy Monday All!

How was your weekend? I hope you spent a decent amount of time enjoying the wonderful weather brought to us c'est fin-de-semaine (that's an ode to you, M-Sac) which included thunder and lightening that almost brought down my house, wind which threatened to throw me across the Atlantic (which I wouldn't have minded) and a nice healthy May dose of Sunday morning flurries. Ohhhh, Canada. Needless to say, my activities required indoor voices only.

I spent the weekend continuing on my journey of unearthing my domestic goddess. And if you got the chance to taste my carrot cake or baked brie you would not be sneering at my use of the term goddess, on the contrary my friend, on the contrary. Actually, the carrot cake was part of last weekend's festivities, but the excitement of it carried over to this week anyways. You see, my maman was overseas for the past 7 days visiting my dear M-Sac in L-Town so I decided to save her a chunk in the freezer as a welcome home present. Now, I am usually not one to verbally pat myself on the back, but this carrot cake definitely deserves it. The combination of crushed pineapple, grated carrots, chopped pecans, sugar, butter and a cream cheese icing (obviously) made for a 9x13" pan of heaven, courtesy of Canadian Living. Here's a shot of what's left, stowed away in my freezer, waiting patiently for our next binge day:

This weekend however, I crossed over to the savoury side of the palate. In addition to indulging in a Say Yes to the Dress and Four Weddings marathon, I spent Friday evening catching up with Mama and her European adventure while assisting her in the preparation of 40 cannelloni for my grandmother's 80th birthday party. This experience not only taught me how to cook an essential dish but also inspired my new goal for the week! (I tend to set both fitness and diet goals every week to keep myself entertained and motivated) I didn't realize it as we were working, but in retrospect there was definitely a common denominator responsible for the success and fame of these cannelloni. What was the LCD, you ask? One word: freshness. Aside from minor ingredients, everything in this dish was made with fresh supplies bought earlier in the afternoon: fresh ricotta from Quality Cheese, fresh noodles from the pasta store, freshly grated parmigiana reggiano cheese...mixed with tasty sauteed spinach, fresh tomato sauce and grated mozzarella...all of which adding up to a casserole sent straight from the Italian gods themselves (are there any of those btw?). Unfortunately, I do not have any photo documentation, but you'd be lying if you tried to tell me your mouth wasn't watering anyways.

So, as I stated earlier, my new "thing" for the week is to try my best to eat only fresh foods. Minor exceptions will be made, for both convenience and budget. Things like frozen fish fillets are permitted, but canned tuna or salmon is not. Nothing in cans or bags are allowed, neither are things that require scorching in the microwave (cough there goes my popcorn addition cough). Yogurt is still allowed (hello, pro-biotics) and so are things like plain chocolate (i.e. from the 1kg bar of Diary Milk mama brought back). This goal stems from two sources: 1) from the fact that my stomach has not suffered, despite eating a dish not normally included in my diet and 2) from a summer time spent eating foreign (but always fresh), carby, starchy foods, huge portion sizes, not gaining an ounce and always feeling amazing...

And just as an added FYI, my fitness "thing" for the week is two cut my runs in half and add an extra swim session daily (basically, short run, two swims...this is just a needed break from running, just to switch it up, just so I don't stop loving it as much as I do)

I'll keep you posted and let you know how I'm feeling come Sunday!

P.S. Stay posted for my first Vaughan profile, should be up by the end of the week! Research begins Tuesday evening with a much-needed-and-awaited date with a long-lost-stew-loving-sister...

P.P.S-- a shout out is necessary--Happy 80th to my Mociute aka Mociuts aka the Queen aka coolest grandmother ever! xox

P.P.P.S Another shout is necessary--I just wanted to thank my lovely friend Justine for her amazing appetizer idea. It was quite the hit at the party this weekend and may have been one of the reasons why most of our supper dishes ended up packed up and taken home as the whole family's food supply for the week. Curious as to what this tasty treat was? Baked brie, topped with fig jam, wrapped in phyllo pastry:

It was actually my first time working with phyllo and proved to be not as difficult as I feared...

Butter that baby up reeeal good...

Before and after shots

800 gram wheel of brie already half done after a mere 15 minutes of being put out...

2010-05-10T03:43:00.001-06:00

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100-Mile Challenge

2010-05-07T10:32:00.001-06:00

So, here I am sitting in my computer room, blanket on, hood up...cold. I wish the weather was as nice as the reflection through the windows make it seem. I tried. I took my fluffy slippers and my book and sat on my front balcony...for 3 minutes. No sun was warming me through the chill. There was no hope for me, cold-thin-blooded old me.

My days have been pretty empty lately. I keep myself busy (not with work, mind you...) but empty in the sense of purposeless, obviously. Filled instead with baking and cleaning and reading (I'm currently lost in The Forgotten Garden...check it out) and playing my recently re-purchased Nintendo 64. (Don't lie, you know its the best system ever) I feel like I have all the desire in the world to start building my future, but when push comes to shove, my laziness wins and I'm stuck in front of my newest flea market film purchase, a new episode of one of my many reality-show addictions, or with my book in my hand and my mind in another world.

So as a tool of self-motivation, I have given myself a goal. Unlike most of my recent un-attempted goals, this one I am declaring out loud, in print, so I have no excuse to not fulfill it (since my pride would suffer too much of a blow). I've decided, as a loyal and life-time citizen of Vaughan, I have failed to give it the credit it truly deserves. My knowledge of our wonderful little community falls short when it comes to being in tune to local events, home-town talent, or even where to find the city's greatest slice of pizza. Vaughan is definitely a city in the GTA to be rivaled. Yet, even with so much at our fingertips we always reach further. Nights out locally are hardly given any credit, real celebrations are always saved for downtown venues. Why? Trust me, I am no one to talk. My daily visits to Toronto.com have made me quite a budding expert at the downtown scene...I am definitely one to book everyone of my birthdays somewhere south east of our border. But I think a lot of our lack of appreciation stems only from a lack of knowledge. There is much to love about our town. Much to do and much to be proud of. If there is one place that can disprove that big city lights are the only ones that could possibly shine on success, it is Vaughan. We should proudly claim our citizenship. We should be able to argue to the contrary when people diss suburbia. So, my goal is to help us citizen's of Vaughan do just that. I intend, in my blogs, to profile local hot stops, tasty restaurants, new and old hang outs, young talent, accomplished members of our city and bring them to the forefront, give them a little credit where credit is due.

So I am accepting any and all suggestions. What makes you proud to call this city your home? What do you miss most when you're away? What place gives you comfort when it is needed the most? Where do you go for a great night out, when you need mental relief but don't need a traffic jam or a lengthy subway ride? Where do you get your best morning espresso, buy you freshest and favorite loaf of bread, have your best workout? What contributes most to your routine, the one that is a part of your every-day, not just your week-ends, that makes it just a little less monotonous, a little more enjoyable?

Post your suggestions! Now is the time more than ever. Seriously, suburban lifestyle is hot. A sixth successful season of Desperate Housewives is testament to that. So is are all the Real Housewives. The Hills and The City wouldn't even exist if there was no Orange County and you'd be lying if you said you didn't find Jersey Shore even a little bit entertaining. Let's put Vaughan on the map. (or at least make googling local resto-reviews a bit easier and informative) Maybe you can even be the next Snookie...or Brody Jenner...

Do a little dance

2010-04-28T15:35:00.001-06:00

As I was swimming yesterday, I over heard two ladies, who I always see, talking about two very serious issues that they were currently dealing with in their personal lives. It really threw me off considering they are two of the friendliest and seemingly happiest of the ladies that frequent the pool with me. It made me really think about that saying, you know that one, about everyone having skeletons in the closet.

It really is true. Everyone does have at least one guy chillin' behind their favorite cocktail dress or freshly pressed suit. It's just that every person deals quite differently. Some people keep those suckers locked up tight. Those are the people that you tend to usually hate because they trick you into believing that they have the perfect life with no skeletons to deal with at all. Then we have the people on the other side of the spectrum, the ones who obviously don't have enough storage space to keep their skeletons behind closed doors. Those are the people who tend to make their lack of ability to deal with their skeletons a teeny bit more obvious. And by teeny bit I mean that I have fully seen people out with their skeletons on the weekends, I've even served a skeleton a vodka on the rocks before, no joke. (They are an obnoxious crowd, to say the least) That, I think, is a bit extreme. I mean we all have enough trouble dealing with our own skeleton's b.s., I don't need to deal with yours while I'm working, or having a coffee, or relaxing on my day off. There is no need for you to parade your skeleton around town in hopes that other people might buy you two a drink to cheer you up or even offer your skeleton a place to stay.

And then there are the third type of people, the ones who deal with their skeletons on their own time, for the most part, but sometimes take them out for a short stroll to give them some air, or when they need to vacuum up the dust bunnies on their closet floor. Those are the people who got it right, I think. Sometimes those skeletons can get to be quite a handful, sometimes they get a bit restless and cranky when you keep em cooped up for too long, sometimes we all need a hand or some advice on how to properly rear a skeleton.

Don't you think everyone would be a better person if they knew the right way to raise a skeleton? I think the world would be a better place. For instance, they wouldn't take up our bar tables and disrupt us at work, we wouldn't have to make awkward small talk with skeletons on rare nights out with our girlfriends, we would probably all receive less calls where we are unexpectedly put on conference with others' skeletons and we would be much less envious of some of our peers.

So this is what I propose. I think that we should all get into the habit of letting our skeletons out, maybe if it is even just once a month, for a night out on the town. Loosen them up a little, get them a little tipsy, maybe. We could dress them up in top hats and bow ties and take them dancing. We could merengue and salsa and cha cha. We would have a bit of fun with our pesky old skeletons: eat a nice meal, share a few laughs, do a little jig and drink a whole lot of tequila. We could play a game or six of flip cup, show our skeletons who is really boss.

Maybe we could even bond a bit.

Maybe our skeleton could teach us a thing or two about ourselves, our strengths, our limits. Maybe we could learn to see a new side of our skeletons, a better side, a side that makes us a little less hesitant to open up that closet door when we know we have to re-organize our wardrobe...

You may say I'm a dreamer, but I'm not the only one...

2010-04-26T04:53:00.001-06:00

Monday mornings are always bittersweet. I enjoy how I usually feel so refreshed after a full and complete day of lazyness and relaxation, after a tiring week of work and even more tiring week of workouts. Every Monday is the same: I wake up a bit earlier than needed, a little sad that my weekend festivities (no matter how simple, how grand, how memorable or how blurry they may have been) are over, a little anxious to work off my weekend binges, and a little excited to begin my countdown for whatever I have planned next. For the most part my spirits are high, even despite the fact that it seems impossible to swat away that inkling feeling that continuously threats to creep up into my mind--wake up silly girl, that refreshed feeling won't last too long, the week begins again, back to the grind.

Grind? Let's get serious here. My life is definitely less than grinding. The only difficult daily task worth mentioning would be my workouts, I guess. Those I use as a means to feel stronger than I really am, I push myself harder than I should so I can walk away feeling like I accomplished something, defeated something, am worthy of those indulgent breaks I take. But besides that, my life is everything but challenging. Wake up, go to the gym, come home, eat lunch, serve other people some lunch, go for a swim, eat a yogurt and cool whip parfait. Oh yes, I lead a difficult life (*yawn*)

This Monday has brought with it a new and foreign emotion. It's been headed my way for quite some time now, I was expecting its arrival. Today, like so many other days since graduation, I am feeling less than inspired. But in a different way than normal. Usually I embrace my un-inspiredness, thankful for a mental break, thankful for the fact that I am happy even though I have nothing really exciting to report, nothing extra special going on in my life right now, no news on the horizon, no impending grand plans. Today is different. Today I am on the lookout for inspiration, slightly jealous of my peers who seem to be swimming in a giant pool of it, with their foot in every door of opportunity. I am envious of those whose inspiration is so obvious, whose drive is so feverish, whose passion is so defined for them, it is them, they cannot function without it. I use to be like them, working, gyming, schooling and planning major events without ever tiring, achieving all the goals I set out for myself (and even surpassing a few). I seem to have lost that, though. Now I am inspired by my past self, my past accomplishments, envious of that energy for something that seems so diminished or so wasted on less than important tasks.

A recent discussion I had with creative writing college professor Antanas Silieka made me realize even more how much I crave that all-embracing desire for something. Writing, he said to me, was something I knew I had to do. It wasn't so much about living my dream, but about doing the only thing I was capable of--I am quite literally clumsy when it comes to anything else. And that is what it is all about. Dreaming is essential, of course. I, Captain Dreamer, Miss Disney, am first to advocate that. But a dreamer does not a happy person make. Anybody can dream. I dream all day long, but I don't do much. Dreaming is a fallacy, it is a guilty pleasure, it can take you away while you sit still, it can make you reach new heights while you're grounded. But the idea of dreaming is limiting. How many people actually end up living their dreams? The statistics seems so daunting. They seem so discouraging. If our future is only a dream we will likely settle for the next best thing, thankful we got so close, yet never feeling entirely fulfilled. No, it cannot just be about dreaming. It has to be about finding that thing, the only thing, the one thing you can do that makes you feel like you finally found your skin. The one thing you can do without stumbling, no matter how many times people try and push you, how much you are tested, how many times you think you have failed.

That is what I am looking for today. I search for it in my things, in my favorite books, my most prized possessions, even in my little doodles, my agenda, in my half used notebooks, my cookbooks and written recipes, my past travels, my future travels, my Google search bar......

but it is no where to be found.

I guess like every other good thing in life, and likewise, everything we ever misplace, it will come to me when I least expect it, I will find it in the one place I forgot to search....

Are you inspired?

Ode to Christopher Columbus

2010-04-03T05:42:00.006-06:00

I usually get at least one or two days off a week (not counting my lunch shifts which are actually, at the most, 4 hours each). Usually, I appreciate it how one regularly would--running forgotten errands, tying loose ends, relaxing, shopping, visiting my favorite hairdresser. But today I enjoyed it the way it is meant to be enjoyed. As I lay on my makeshift lawn chair in my backyard, consisting of a cement patio and towel pillow, it's hard not to contain my good mood, hard not to tap my feet to the beat of my iPod.

It is absolutely perfect today. It makes it so easy to pretend like 4 wheelers are motorinos. It is impossible not to close my eyes and be back on that coast, with that town on the cliff, or the one with the buildings of uniform white, or the one with the broken mountain cliff and stretch of white sand. It is difficult not to dream to be back on the road again, planning another journey, jetting off to another spot to discover, to explore. Sadly, it all falls apart with the sliding of the screen door and a call to the vaccuuming duty I`ve been lazily pushing aside all day long.

But as long as the sun shines, my mind will stay stuck in another place...my intention of an impromptu getaway still at the heart of my summer plans.

When you travel, what do you travel for? Do you wish to see for yourself the tales you are told in your history books? Do you want to brush the fur of a lynx, feel the mist of a rainforest, get tangled in a vine? Are you restless or passive? Do you want to globe trot from Sardegna to Siam, from Tanzania to Thailand, from Dublin to Dubrovnik? Or do you settle in one locale?...live the culture, unearth its mysteries in their entirety, exploring just as much of yourself as you explore the land...

My two European getaways taught me much about myself, my travel style. My first trip to Italy was a trip in constant transit. It made me realize how much I love my friends and family. It made me realize that I am a person who loves being around the people they love. It made me see that loneliness is felt in a room of empty faces. That sometimes it can take being surronded by a throng of people to realize how isolated one can get.

My second trip made me realize that I really am as lazy as I claim, that constant change (or change that happens at anything more than snail pace) unnerves me, makes me anxious. It made me realize that I cannot function on a schedule not created by myself, that I can run 6 miles a day but I do not move quickly naturally, and that I am truly happy when my skin is warmed by the sun, kissed golden by its rays in a backdrop where the soundtrack is of lapsing waves, departing and arrive boats...where nature is alive and we thrive off it, depend on it, worship its simple granduer. It made me realize that I can fall in love with a land, that it can leave a mark on my heart and take a piece of my soul. That when I find my right fit then I don`t need to try it on for size, but my mind is already made and I find myself standing at the checkout, credit card in hand, already embracing the newest piece of the puzzle of me as if it has been there all along.

What else do we ever look for, really, besides a niche? A little corner where we fit in so perfectly, relax so easily, so comfortably. Sometimes our niches are lavish, sometimes they are simple. Sometimes they are found close by and crowded with familiarity; sometimes they are far off and unhampered. Sometimes they are found in a person, sometimes in a place. Sometimes they are our perfect job, our ideal home, our newborn child, our grown teenager, our mother, our father, our siblings. Sometimes our niche is a spot on our couch, a chair on our veranda, a wooden deck at our cottage. Regardless of their variety, they all posses the same power--they are always where we find ourselves most truly, always where we find we can explore ourselves most thoroughly, with no restrictions.

It is with this thought that I urge you to book that trip. To realize that when your mind is constantly in flight, than why should you ground your feet? To learn that sometimes it takes you going to the other side of the world to find your spot at home.

Late for Today

2010-03-29T18:54:00.002-06:00

Isn't it so funny how sometimes time can stand so completely still? And I'm not talking about those moments you read about in books where "I looked into his eyes and time stood completely still". I'm talking about those moments where something so subtle can bring you back so far so quickly and make you feel like you never left, like you never grew up, like things haven't changed so much.

It doesn't take much for me to experience this type of nostaglia, or so I noticed today. It can be the simplest thing. Take, for example, a visit to the dentist's office. The very same dentist you've gone to your whole entire life. As soon as I walk through the doors I am 10 years old all over again. Despite some random updates in equipment, everything is exactly the same--from the big automatic chairs, to the yellowish tinge in the overhead lights, to the reception desk and all the fun prizes hidden behind it (the stickers and bouncey balls and plastic froggies). The years have passed everywhere else in the world except for that dentist office, where I am still that little girl, nervous to be there again and excited to have a day off school. I am that little girl when I open the door to Book City and smell that familiar smell of books old and new, thick and thin, black and white or coloured all over. The same Book City with the same yellow and black sign with the same shelves. All of a sudden I am tugging at my mother's jacket, begging her for the latest Berenstain Bear book to add to my already vast collection. Memories seep through the walls and standing in that room again brings them back into painfully vivid focus.

No, it does not take much at all to take us back. A movie, a storybook, a favorite meal, a cartoon show, a bowl of cereal, waking up to the surprise of cooking pancakes. And even if it's just for a moment, everything is erased. All that we have gone through over however many years that have passed. Getting over our first day of school, making our first friend, conquering our first ever homework assignment, graduating from high school, getting our degree, getting over a flu, healing a broken bone, healing a broken heart...losing someone you love.... And for that moment everything is right again. And nothing has ever hurt enough to leave a scar. We have so much to gain and at the same time everything to lose. And you feel so innocent but still so indestructable. And so motivated and not quite yet jaded. And nothing is impossible.

And everything is possible.

And dreams aren't just for dreaming, but goals for acheiving.

And then you come back to now and you are determined once again. And now I am refreshed all over again.

But a piece of me wishes time could go back and stand still forever. And I wouldn't have to just pretend you were waiting for me in the waiting room. And I wouldn't have to see you in the paintings on the wall, or fly fishing picture frames you made on the counters. Or feel you in the eyes of an old friend. And the time I spend with you wouldn't need to end when I wake up. And I wouldn't need these moments to be reminded of you, because you'd be in the car right next to me.

If I hadn't just been sitting in it, I would say that you'd lost your mind!

2010-03-25T04:40:00.002-06:00

There's something about being young that so many of us seem to forget. It seems easy to do so, too, considering for the bulk of our lives we are told that we need to grow up and be serious to save our futures. It's almost ironic, how we are constantly told we need to work harder when we are young in order to prepare ourselves for a lifetime of, let's face it, working even harder. So when do we get to enjoy the ride? I mean, sure we enjoy it in our own way, through our own outlets. In our social lives, with our friends, with our girlfriends and boyfriends. But that's only half of it. That's only a quarter of the way we spend our time. The rest of it is spent either cooped in the library, sitting in a lecture hall, working full time, building houses, building roads, installing lighting...

But who said we weren't supposed to enjoy what we do for a living? With a world so big and vast, yet with all our opportunities so close, why do we think we have so little choice? And most importantly, why can't we enjoy our road to discovery? Making a choice doesn't have to be as hard as we think, and at the same time it doesn't have to come so easy. We don't need to stick with our first choice...or second, or third. We don't even need to stick with any choice at all, ever. If success and happiness can come to you in constant change, than why do you need to settle for monotony? And if making choices isn't easy, then why can't it be fun? We have the opportunity now to dabble here and there, to explore things we may think we aren't suited for, aren't talented enough for or things that may seem impossible to acheive. But what do we know anyways? How well could you possibly know yourself at 16, at 21, or even 30 to be so sure that you can only do so much? How many times have you surprised yourself by surpassing your goals, acheiving the unexpected...even if it just means finishing that essay you never thought would end (and acing it, to boot), or making your sales goal at work, finally saving enough money to buy a car, laying that last brick.

It's so easy for us to take our weekend so lightly. To have one too many drinks, to act just a little immature, maybe dance on surfaces not meant for heels, to crankcall strangers (or not) already sleeping, to kiss one too many boys you may not have if your vision was a bit less foggy, to use our outdoor voices indoors, to waste our money on unnecessary clothes, shoes, purses, sunglasses, alcohol...and to back it all up with the "I'm young, what does it matter?" excuse. Maybe the way we think on our offtime isn't so wrong. Maybe we shouldn't try so hard to not act our shoe size. Maybe we can really be ourselves when we don't take ourselves too seriously. Maybe we would make wiser choices, take the more daring path. Maybe we would find a more real version of ourselves, and maybe we would find a path that let's us express that everyday...not just on Saturday nights. Maybe we could end up doing something that makes us happy AND pay the bills...now wouldn't that be naughty?

The next question is 'Who in the world am I?' Ah, that's the great puzzle!

2010-03-24T04:16:00.001-06:00

I think I'm finally coming to that point now. My lack of formal responsibilities has cleared my mind and allowed me to reach that place. That place where I feel comfortable starting to think...think about possibilities, think about choices, think about tomorrow...but in a non-restricted way. In a no-deadline kinda way. Not in the way I've been trained to think, to function. There is no due date on my thoughts.

My first step, I've decided, is to think about my thoughts. To think about thinking. Because when it comes down to it, I am myself in my truest form when I am living in my mind. I think we are all most true to ourselves in our thoughts. Contrary to popular belief, we are not defined by our actions, I believe. So often they are done on impulse, so often our insecurities or our over-confidence force us to act, or not act, for all the wrong reasons. So often we regret our actions. So often we rectify them in our thoughts.

What kind of thinker are you? Do you think to dream? Or are your thoughts more grounded? How do you think about yourself? Are you critical or defensive? Do you chastise your self in your mind for the choices you make, or reason away the guilty conscience you have built for the choices you do not make at all? Do you dream of objects...of cars, or houses, or cottages or dogs...or do you dream of emotions? Of happiness and excitement, of laughter and of love?

Does your mind create a fantasy land for you that cushions your thoughts from the harsh reality? Do you dream of living in a land where fantasy is real, where you can touch your dreams with your hand?

I dream of a time where I can be where I dream, without dreaming at all....where I can live the life of my thoughts. I dream of the day when my body follows my find on my journies. When the lands I create can be concrete in some form, in some land not made of smoke. I dream of the day when everything doesn't seem so out of reach. When happiness and success can both mean following your heart. Where the impending doom of our futures doesn't seem so dark, doesn't stop us from remembering the present.

Where does your mind take you? And when do we leave?

Lace up

2010-03-08T05:18:00.001-07:00

I have a confession to make. It's not something I'm proud of...but really, yes I am. It has led me to make some not-so-wise decisions but has taken me on one of the greatest journies of my life.

I am in an abusive relationship.

Unfortunately, it is not fresh. No, it is definitely not new. It is ten years in progress, and for that reason, it is impossible to walk away.

If the ride on this endeavour has been anything, it has definitely been bumpy. But rough as it has been, every second has been worth it. Even those seconds when I forget just how good it is, especially those seconds when I come so close to giving up, to throwing in the towel, just to pick myself up again and put my all into it with a reborn energy so strong I feel like we're starting all over from scratch.

It is one of those relationships that keep you coming back for more, no matter how battered and weak you feel. It was hard from the start. Hard to commit to. Hard to find the time. Hard to find the energy. Hard to change my ways. The struggle only made it more difficult. Made me feel unworthy. Made me feel like I didn't belong. But as they so often say it will, time made it better. Made me stronger. Made me realize my potential. Slowly I got strong. Slowly I was ready to take on more.

The middle years have passed in a blur. Things got comfortable as they so often do. The whole thing just became a routine. But by the same token, it became my routine. It became a part of my schedule. It became an integral part of my to do list. It became not just something I did, but something I was. And as habit so often does, things became easier. The whole thing just got boring. The challenge disappeared and I lost interest. I stopped giving it all. I thought I had reached my potential. The relationship suffered. It was on the verge of breaking. I was on the verge of calling it quits.

And then it came. That renewed energy that so often seems to save us all in the nick of time. Just when you're convinced you can't take it anymore, you realize why you've come this far in the first place. And the love was back...if it had even ever entirely left. And I was strong again. And we were strong again. Things went back to the beginning. When you get over that awkward stage of finding your footing and finally start to enjoy the ride. And every bump, no matter how big, felt like a make-shift barrier, just put there temporarily, just waiting to be broken. And I could make it through all the pain as if it wasn't there. Ignored until it healed itself. Now, today, we are still going strong, although problem free we are not. I still wake up those mornings with a bad taste in my mouth at the thought of it. I still curse the day it all began, wishing I could have found a life that made me happy without it.

But the fact of the matter is, there is nothing quite like this relationship that I am in. It is contradictory in every which way possible. Just as quick as it can elate me, it will deflate me. It is a monotonous rountine, yet it is completely unpredictable. It has the power to break me down but has the tools to build me back up. It makes me strong, but at the same time it eats away at my bones, makes me weak at the knees. I dread the days when we meet but when we are apart I wish we could be together. It picks me up when I am about to hit the ground, it makes me feel like I can overcome it all...and then it sends me home in tears. It is the only thing that will make me forget the pain...the very same pain it has caused. It understands me the best, without asking for explanation. It needs no excuses. It pushes me further just as quick as it threatens to limit me. It takes me away from it all, without even taking me a mile. It is just as bad for me as it is good. Everyday I go to it with dragging feet just to skip back with a lightened step.

Through it all, it has always been there. Always the same, but always adapting to me as a change, as I grow, as I need more, as I need less.

No one ever said it would be easy. The things that matter the most never are.

It is my battlefield.

1-800-GOT-JUNK?

2010-03-03T08:07:00.000-07:00

Wow has it ever been a while. I went through another one of my slacking stages. You know those stages where you get computer lazy? Lazy to turn it on, lazy to wait for it to load or re-load once it freezes, lazy to creep pictures on Facebook, lazy to respond to peoples posts. That's exactly what I've been lately...lazy...lazy and loving it.

After going through a few changes and switches since the fall I finally feel settled. If you're waiting for me to tell you I've settled into a job with a promise or in even semi-concrete plans for my future, you may be here a while. Because the only thing I have settled into is my meaningless routine of part-time work in service, going to the gym, spending my free time completely as I please whether it be sleeping, or cleaning, throwing tea parties or booking last minute Caribbean getaways. And it turns out it is precisely what I've needed all along, just what the anxiety doctor called for: to be settled feeling unsettled-not knowing what to do next and, finally, not worried about it.

Since as far back as high school (to Grade 10's Civics and Careers to be exact), I've been so entirely focused on the What's Next? What can I do now to make my Next come quicker, make my transition smoother, get me to that place where I make the most money to take two vacations annually and perhaps own a cottage up north. What can I do now to get the best grades to get into the best university? What program can I take that'll give me the best chance to land that lucrative career? What exactly is that lucrative career...why do I want it? What do I ask my work to bring me in my life and what am I willing to give to it in exchange? I always put so much on my plate to make the most of my time--sports teams and school councils, part time jobs that turned into 40 hour work weeks above and beyond my school time, taking on fashion shows during two of the most difficult years of my life, balancing a pretty active social life throughout it all and let's not forget my gym addiction which needs to be fulfilled at least 5 days a week. Although being goal oriented is definitely not a flaw, the problem it seems to cause is that we simply forget to focus on the What's Now? When was there time for me to just sit back and think, to put everything into perspective, to figure out who I am outside all my responsibities, my tasks, my assignments, my workouts, the clubs, the parties? What makes me me when I'm left alone to my own devices...what will I build for myself? I've focused all my mental stamina on figuring out just where to turn next and have forgotten where I was walking. Every morning I woke up and worked for tomorrow, every night I fell asleep anxious for a sunrise instead of taking the time to enjoy the moonlight.

This realization has helped me to slow down, to step back. To see that after so many years of What's Next I'm finally ready to take some time to live for now. To wake up every day and create my own agenda, to have nothing tying me down from doing what I want when I want--no essay to stop me from going for a tan, to the mall, for a swim, to hot yoga--no meeting with vendors to make me cancel my hair appointments or take me away from that book I just can't put down--no full time job to restrict my vacation book-offs, to stop me from going up north for a few days when I want to just get away, to take me away from the money service work makes so quick and easy and limit my funds. Now I think freely...about whatever I want...about things that don't necessarily stress me out...although sometimes those thoughts creep back up. Now I go to bed as late (or as early) as I want. I book off my shifts online, guilt free. I draw pictures in my agenda to make up for the empty space left blank by a lack of school assignments. Now I am happy being uncertain and excited to make the most of this time of my life...to work to travel....to work to live...and not to live to work....but to live for me.

Everything hurts more when you move slowly

2010-01-05T17:16:00.000-07:00

Maybe it's the glass of wine I'm sipping, or the reminiscing of summer escapes that is making me sentimental right now, but more than likely it has to do with a goodbye I will be saying in 2 very short days. On Thursday, my sister is packing up and moving overseas to the UK where she will pretend to work while instead she will indulge in probably the greatest European adventure of her life. Constant preparation makes this week feel like a continuation of the holidays--well, something is different in the air, that is for sure. It is, however, a reality that has yet to hit me. "Can you cover my shift for me so I can take out my sister? She's moving on January 7th for 7 months!" "Of course I'm gonna miss her." I find myself talking about it more than I find myself believing it. 7 months of separation after 22 years of inseparable-ness. Let's be honest, 6 months, as the last one I will spend with her...using her for free accommodations and easy access to bordering paradises. Am I going to miss her? Anyone who knows us knows the answer. Am I jealous of her? Let's just say expedia.ca has been my homepage for the past few days. Am I nervous for her? Probably a lot less than she is for herself...but that's because I'm too happy for her to let any other emotion get in the way. Although the iminent departure date may cause her to let her fear get the best of her, I hope that behind the anxiety she is remembering that this will be an experience she'll never forget, where she will meet people she will always remember, and make memories that will last forever in her mind (probably hazy, though, from all the wine she will ingest prior to making the majority of these memories)

So, tonight I raise my rare glass of week-day red to my sister. My best friend. My twin soul. The girl who shares my smile, shares my eyes, shares my hobbies and most of my paranoia-s. Here is to all the mornings spent in comfortable silence, with a giant bowl of cereal and toasted Russian. Here is to the workouts--the good ones, the bad ones, the frustrating ones, the painful ones, and to the ones we skip. Here is to the lazy nights spent in, downloading music, making drinks, writing essays (most of the time simultaneously), watching movies, watching TV (and sleeping in front of it) Here is to the messy nights out together--Muzik booths, birthday buses, King One West suites and My Apartments. And here's to the messy nights out apart where shared text messages never kept us too far away from each other. Here's to the nights when I came home too obliterated to lock the bathroom door, or hold my own hair back, or to laugh at myself alone. Here's to the nights when she came home too messy to undress, or stay dressed, or with newspaper stains on her face. Here's to all my stupid comments--my mis-pronunciations, my mis-understandings, that gave one too many opportunities for me to be the punch line of several jokes. Here's to teasing Mom (it won't be funny anymore when I have to laugh at her alone) Here's two our identical warddrobes (a result of our identical presents). Here's to our identical [boy] hair cuts. Here's to our travels--from Wasaga beach to the Eiffel Tower. Here's to the best five weeks of my life spent with the only person I'd ever be able to tolerate for that amount of time in a foreign country. Here is to the girl who is an expert at stopping my tears and wiping my cheeks, at boosting my self-esteem when I've lost it, at motivating me when I'm slacking, at making any disappointment I may ever have in myself disappear, at turning any bad day around by just being there, without even having to say anything at all. Here is to the best sister I could have ever been blessed with. Who I will miss more than I know just yet. This trip is for you Mel. After everything, I can't think of any who deserves it more than you. Use it wisely. Live it up. Carpe diem. And most importantly, think tabula rasa.

And don't worry about the weather, your heart will keep you warm until the European sun arrives and I join you to spend another summer beneath it with you.

xoxox

Merry Monday

2009-12-21T18:52:00.000-07:00

Today is Monday. Today is the one Monday of the year I will celebrate. Today is Monday and today my good mood is indestructable.

Today is the first day of Christmas week. No need to follow that last word with an asterix meant to correct it as a typo. If New Years, a holiday not even in a category comparable to Christmas, gets two days, then I demand that Christmas gets at least a week. (And let's face it, it gets almost two months anyways) Today is day one of the merriest week on the calender. I put aside as much energy I can in advance, store it in a vault, in a labeled shoebox, so I have an abundant amount to enjoy this week as much as I can, to find any excuse in the book to bring out the child in me that skims so close to the surface all year round just waiting for the right time to break through.What will you do to ring in the holidays? How do you prepare?

Here I have compiled a short list of all things Christmas, all things I find necessary to get done this week. If your schedule is lacking that cheesy holiday cheer it should be crammed with, than this list was made for you...from me...because if I'm ever gonna share, this week has gotta be the best time to do it.

-make a Christmas CD--first and foremost, as it will serve as the soundtrack of your X-Mas week and should be played at all and any time possible (a quality selection should really include Betty Boop's Santa Baby, Home Alone's Carol of the Bells, Trans Siberian Orchestra's Christmas Canon and Manheim Steamroller's anything)
-bake something--ANYTHING--gingerbread houses are preferable, if you're feeling really ris-kay, a gingerbread mansion is ideal, but there's nothing wrong with starting off slow...a gingerbread man, or two...and don't forget a wo-man, for politic's sake...(sugar or shortbread cookies cut into shapes of candy canes and santa are perfect--top them off with heaps of red and green sparkles, silver baker's balls and candy christmas trees all available in your local Fortino's bulk aisle)
-slot ample time for TV Christmas classics--Home Alone's been on loop since November 1st so I expect that one to be crossed off your list already, but no Christmas week is complete without Jack Frost, any one of the three Santa Claus', JTT's I'll be Home for Christmas, The Family Man, either version of Miracle on 34th Street, It's a Wonderful Life and most definitely Dr. Suess' How the Grinch Stole Christmas....for those who aren't satisfied with this year's screenings or whose schedule doesn't allow them to catch em should think themselves lucky...video stores have late hours and a much greater selection without the hassle of commercial breaks
-if it's a white Christmas Week where you are, a tobogganing session, Snow Man making project or friendly/competitive neighbourhood snowball fight (complete with forts) should not be skipped--who knows how many other opportunities we may get for these with all this global warming mumbo jumbo they talk about
-save at least one gift for Christmas eve--admit it--despite the overwhelming fury and aggrivation the malls give you at this time, if there is one place where the spirit is most alive, it is definitely in the shops. There's nothing quite like the endless loops of Christmas carols, the cheery yet exhausted sales people, the crowds of people rushing to find that perfect gift, and, of course, the mall Santa's and their increasingly intricate workshops that give you that festive feel.
-if your not the primary chef of the house, accompany whoever is on every shopping and preparation experience possible--build up the meal in your mind so you can drool over it in your dreams and savor and appreciate every bite. The spirit is definitely alive in every grocery store you walk through, you can feel it from the jam-packed parking lots. And don't miss out on the trip to the markets--namely the fish market where I will (with overwhelming excitement) make my first visit too later this week
-wear as much red and green as you can--and don't forget about the ugly Christmas sweaters stuffed in your bottom drawer that you just haven't had the heart to give away just yet
-make sure you host as many pre-Christmas coffee and dessert dates as you can afford--remember its not quite Christmas Day yet and you're gonna need a place to put all those things you've been baking
-hit up Wal Mart to stock up on some sweet chocolate deals--nothing fills up the table better or gives the perfect sweet finish to an already full belly (my faves? well, anything chocolate is a friend of mind but Toblerones (try out the white chocolate if you haven't already yet), Guylians, Lindts, Ferreros are all dancing in my head)...and one box of assorted won't kill you...but drift away from Quality Street and Pot of Gold to a much more tasty world of Laura Secord
-and one more thing--save all your wrapping for this week--make an afternoon of it of course with your CD on repeat and your chocolates close by for extra energy. There was nothing like a stuffed Christmas tree that made me happier as a kid--and don't judge me on my shallow-ness...it took nothing more than a pair of gloves to make me happy and I have it on tape as proof!

Merry Monday and Merry Christmas week! Don't limit your activities my list (it's slightly incomplete at best, anyways) but try and indulge yourself in at least one corny, cliche, totally typical event of your choice!

Today is Groundhog's Day

2009-12-19T07:31:00.063-07:00

Warning warning. Do not get your hopes up. I'm not talking about the real groundhog's day. No, I'm sorry you did not sleep through an entire season. I apologize but, no, Wiarton Willie did not leave his burrow and no, spring is not only six weeks away. No, I am terribly sorry, but it is not even officially winter yet. What I'm referring to is a Bill Murray kinda Groundhog's Day. It's the day when we wake up and our lives feel like clockwork. The day when our same futile routine starts anew and we spend its entirety searching for ways to make it different from yesterday.

Everyday is Groundhog's Day for me. Every morning I roll out of bed with the same thought in mind--why can't I just sleep in? And where is my breakfast? Okay...maybe two [conflicting] thoughts, every morning they are the same and every morning they are followed by the same challenge I face every time I open the fridge...hmmm what am I craving this morning? It is only after the initial thrill of indulgence in either savory cheeses or sweet cereals that the painful reminder hits me--time to gear up for another session at the gym. Yes, here is when the reality of Groundhog's Day sets in the most--when I realize all I have in my near future is another one of the identical workouts I have been having for the past ten years, even despite my progress, even despite how different my workouts are from this week compared to last.

My dismal attitude is only temporary, I'm glad to say. It only takes a short (well, it feels much longer) 1.5-2 hours to turn it all around. Every morning I drag my feet onto the treadmill. Every mid-morning I bounce back to my car and sing my way home with the morning radio countdowns. Now I am free--now, today can be whatever I want it to be.

What do you do that makes your day that much better? For me, there is no hesitation in my answer, no doubt in my mind, nothing turns my day around like a good workout. I can wake up in any mood and in any state and nothing else can quite make things right like it does. There is something about its healing power that is quite different from all the consolation or sympathy that the world has to offer--it is different in that you are healing your self, by your own will, through your own strength. When I am battling my self--my weaknesses, my insecurities--I am running past my flaws, breaking through my skin with each step, with each mile into a newer body, a stronger me. When I feel bullied I picture myself running alongside my aggressor, as he huffs and puffs on the dust I leave in my wake. When my anger threatens my sanity, I erase it from my thoughts with a motivating song and drain it from my body through my dripping sweat. There is nothing better than a good run to get you through any rut, to push you past any obstacle, to make your today a day to celebrate instead of another groundhog day to dread.

What do you do that gives you that feeling? That out-of-body, out-of-mind experience. That one thing that pushes you to your limit, if not even a little bit further. When you're drowning, what brings you to the surface? When you're losing the game, what gives you the strength to tie the score? When you've been beat, when you've been taken advantage of, when you've been wronged, how do you get revenge? What fuels your fire? Pick one thing that has the power to take you to another world, if even for an hour, if even for a few minutes. Choose anything that makes you feel invinsible, unbreakable. You hold the keys to unlock your mind from its own, sometimes self-defeating, confinements and unleash it into a world of strength, of guiltless, deserving self servitude, of true independence in every sense of the word. Find something that can make your day not just any other Groundhog's Day.

2009-12-16T12:31:00.001-07:00

Christmas is nine days away and I can literally feel it. Maybe it's the endless loops of Christmas carols I wake up to every morning and likewise fall alseep to every night. Or maybe it's the cup of Starbuck's Christmas blend I just finished sipping on. Whatever it is, it's got me feeling good. And with no real work scheduled from now till then, besides picking up the odd shift here and there, I am officially in celebration mode. Holiday wine again tonight? Or is it the season to bake some brownies and savour some chocolate?

I saw the sign...or did I?

2009-12-16T12:16:00.003-07:00

At the end of it all, where does the real challenge lie? I guess you can say that everyone is different--one person will handle one thing with stride and grace while the next person will simply flop on their face. I truly believe that in this thing we call life, the biggest challenge is not what we do, how we do it, who we do it with but merely the decision we need to make before we do anything at all. When facing a crossroad, a fork in the road, two opportunities, three opportunities, or no opportunities at all, the only thing that will get us from position A to position B is a choice.

I know what you're thinking--wow, very profound. Thank you buddha for enlightening us. We all already know this--choices were not made to be easy. The answer is not always in blinking lights or in the cards that we have so carefully chosen from the deck in front of us. But it seems to me that there are those people who can make snap decisions so easily, so quickly. And they are the same people who never turn back, who never rethink if they were right or wrong or if they misjudged the situation or themselves. I envy those people. Mostly because I used to be able to do that. Yet now every choice is a hurdle to overcome--what job to choose, what future is best for me, what to do this weekend, what to wear to work, what to eat for dinner, should I really be buying this cereal?.... How do they do it? What is their strategy? Is their some sort of scientific formula I've been missing out on, some fool proof guide of how to make choices for dummies (like me)? Does it boil down to personality? Is it just a character trait that some people possess--to be strong willed in your decisions, to be perpetually clear headed and focused? Or do they look to something beyond themselves--are they just skilled at reading the signs not all of us can so easily see--the ones that are put on the side of our paths, directing us exactly where we need to go when we make an unknown turn on our mapless journey.

For someone like me, every coincidence has a meaning. Maybe that's why I look for signs everywhere whenever I'm stuck in a make-up-your-mind situation of pros vs cons which has so often been the case lately. Or maybe I look for signs so I can blame some sort of out of body, out of world source for choices gone awry. My excitement for my first downtown serving job was bombarded when an internship offer seemed to hold the keys to my future. Two of my wishes coming true--but simultaneously when they were supposed to happen consecutively. Admitting defeat, I decided to start again fresh, wipe the slate clean. Although fully equipped with a "thanks but no thanks" email in my draft box, the firmness in my selection wavered when I was prematurely greeted with a certain proposal in my inbox. How could I deny that this is no coincidence. And now, after a slight bout of anxiety-to-start-my-real-life had subsided, I was once again thrown off kilter by a message in my voicemail box from another part-time dream position in a venue which probably holds no sustainable future yet has been the recipient of dozens and dozens of my resumes for the past two years. What do you make of curve balls that come your way? Do they make you second guess for a reason--to tell you that you might not be as right as you think, your opinion not so sound, your preference not quite preferable?

How do you read your signs? But most importantly--does it even really matter? I mean, if there's one choice I've firmly made is to choose to believe that we never really know what we want. Case in point: Twenty years ago I had my heart set on being a butterfly. Twelve years later my love for the decorative colour on the insect's wings was expressed in a desire to bring colour and decoration to rooms and houses. Four years ago I was accepted to University of Toronto where I began my degree in Philosophy in anticipation of a career in law. Last May, I graduated with said degree. Law school here I come? Not quite. No, I was left with no aptitude or inclination towards law, or any other area or skill really, besides maybe the fine art of over-thinking (I'd like to shout out to philosophy for granting me this one) Last season I obsessed over the perfect pumpkin carving. This winter I fantasize about the North Pole. Yesterday I raved to my mother about my intense and exclusive desire for all things seafood--it's 10a.m today and I'm already thinking about the turkey and chicken sausage I have pre-made at home for dinner. One hour I want nothing else for my future but to usurp Peter & Paul's, the next I want to be Carrie Bradshaw.

I guess choices will always plague us--the best we can do is make as many of them as can. Never be indecisive, do not take your time, do not make a list or two or three and definitely do not check it twice. Say yes to everything and no to nothing. Experiment in every lab, play in every field, sign up for every team. Opportunities are finite, don't take them for granted.

Tis the season to be just a little teeny bit selfish...

2009-12-11T06:01:00.000-07:00

If you'd like to know what I've been up to lately, my answer for you would be a lot of clearing--clearing up my schedule, clearing up my head, clearing up my future and, of course, clearing up the mantel to make room for the wreath and all the ceramic Santa Clauses. One thing I have not been doing, however, is clearing up the negativity.

The time is shortly upon us. Before we know it, we'll be (sadly) hauling out the boxes to pack up all the glitter and sparkle that has left my eyes twinkling for the past two weeks. In no time, we will have nothing ahead of us to look forward to besides a distant spring and another round of the brutalest of the winter months to battle. How are you using the little amount of festivity we have left on our calender? I'm using every free minute I have to celebrate the season--whether it be a Christmas tablecloth-shopping trip with my mom, or a catch up lunch with one friend followed by a catch up dinner with another, a girls' night in, a girls' night out, a gingerbread-house-building challenge, a baking session (or two, or three), Christmas-themed weekly chocolate surprises for my boyfriend, neighbourhood Christmas lights decoration gazing or anything else I come up with. But what I must say I have yet to done enough of is give back to someone who is extremely important, yet so often forgotten, so often looked down upon, so often punished and so often someone I find myself shaking my finger at, shaking my head at in disappointment--and that someone is me.

When change happens gradually it is often hard to see just how far you have come, just how much progress you have made. For me, that is my greatest challenge--it is something I struggle with everyday, every hour and especially at every meal time and snack time. I won't deny that I have done well--when I want to generalize--but on a daily basis I seem to find it easier and easier to overlook my triumphs and dwell on my slip-ups. Maybe it's the dreary weather, or the extra holiday treats I have been indulging in, but lately I can't seem to shake that icky gross feeling of insecurity that I have been plagued with for the majority of my past.

But today I am in clearing mode. And I am ready to clear away the ugly thoughts. And why shouldn't I? After almost ten years of sweat and tears, of good days and bad weeks, of losses and gains, of boredom slumps and reenergizing boosts, I can finally say I am happy where I have ended up. I have reached and exceeded so many goals. I am smarter now than ever before, wiser than I was, more educated and healthier as a result. Today I will not look over every imperfection with disgust. Tomorrow I will not punish myself for an extra chocolate square here or a well-deserved glass of wine there.

If the imminent holidays have caught you in a frenzy to finish crossing off your shopping list, your over-time work hours have robbed you of your free-time or exams have made you forfeit any attempts you may have made to reconnect with friends and family, than at the very least take some time to appreciate you. Do one thing a day that puts you at risk to be transferred off of a certain someone's good list. Don't harp on the piece of chocolate bark you secretly gobbled last night, or the extra slice of cheesecake you had at your work Christmas party. This year, take the glass of eggnog for yourself and leave Santa the 1%. Don't read the article that tells you 'which foods to avoid this holiday season'--instead only avoid the ones that don't leave your mouth watering and your stomach grumbling. Forget about portion control but don't forget that red wine is good for your heart. Keep in mind that the season is for generosity, for giving, for friends and family, but don't leave yourself in the dust.

Another year has almost come and gone. Think about how much you have done in these twelve short months. Remember every challenge you have faced--whether it be a seemingly impossible essay topic, a fight with a friend, recovering from a broken relationship or adapting to something new and foreign. If your hectic schedule leaves you with only one minute to spare, this year, use it on you. You deserve it.

A dime, two nickels and two pennies-life-crisis

2009-12-07T17:27:00.001-07:00

Have you ever felt like you were stuck in time? Trapped inside a frozen ice box of now and desperately scraping from the inside to get out to later? You just don't know which direction you'd rather be going--you're overly anxious for your future, yet still nostalgic for your past.

I think (and yes, this is theory #132), that this may be the cause of my emotional instability and indecisiveness. I'm caught in a waiting room where it's never my turn, stuck in a purgatory brought to earth especially for me, racing to win the game of Life but hesitating whenever it's my turn to roll the dice. I'm swinging on the swings in the playground of my dreams while I build the picket fence around my ideal red-brick house. I'm wavering between leaping forward or turning around and running back.

How long will these clashing desires continue to plague me? Do I have the strength to make the right decision? Which path is easier anyways, when my choices include a mundane life of no challenge, or an unknown future of potentially overly-challenging learning hurdles? Or will I stay stuck in this insufferable limbo of fluctuation forever--essentially spending the rest of my life painfully deciding how to avoid the most pain?

Real life is for phonies

2009-12-05T15:04:00.002-07:00

My mother always praised me for being a realist. Really? Try reading my blogs, mama. Reality to me is just so passe. Who wants to live in reality when you can live in a world where sugar plum fairies don't have to dance only in your head. My ideal job--event planning. Well, that's what I tell people. My real ideal job? Being Jack the Pumpkin King. I never understood why people gave the Grinch such a hard time, who doesn't want to steal Christmas? So you can swim in eggnog, make it rain gumdrops, have all the gingerbread in the world, park reindeer in your garage and have Santa's workshop in your shed. I definitely am not a realist. Common sense is not my thing. I'm most certain I live a life of a neverending childhood, where fantasy has trickled into reality, where talking bunnies send me on chocolate hunts and I get my spending money from underneath my pillow. When people ask me for the time, I take out my giant watch and stuff it back magically into my tiny interior jacket pocket. When I throw my unbirthday party, we drink tea not wine, you must come in your purple top hat and don't sit too close to the cat if you're no good at riddles. In December it is always snowing, Christmas lights are always glowing and sleigh bells ring to the tune of the carol of the bells. I've been visited by three ghosts, I've taken a walk up a hill to fetch a pail of water and ended up in the gingerbread house of my dreams with Smarties door handles and gummy bear couches. My fairy godmother dressed me for prom. On March break, I vacationed to the North Pole and on Christmas eve I left out the double sets of my pictures for Santa beside his cookies and milk. I don't call cabs, I call golden chariots. My mermaid tale was a perfectly suitable substitute for water wings. Hungry? I always have green eggs and ham.

Come into my world with me, whenever you need a break from your own. Come to a land where music is always playing, children are always laughing and nutcrackers are always doing ballet. Come to a place where we get stuck in dragon-guarded towers, not in traffic. Yes, I'm sending you an open invitation to my world--where you can go everywhere and anything goes. Where when I close my eyes, I can live in a chateau in France when I think of Paris, I can feel the sand on my skin when I remember Italy, where I am playing cards on the deck of the beach cottage in Wasaga when I miss my past. Where the whole world is at your doorstep and every other world is only a Polar Express ride away. Where a window of opportunity is quite literally a door from one magic to the next--from the land of all hallows' eve to the kingdom of Old Saint Nick.

No I don't think I'm a realist at all. Why should I be? When everyday can be an adventure instead.

Where everybody knows your name

2009-12-02T17:53:00.000-07:00

If I hadn't already made my decision regarding my current employment status (do I stay or do I go?), then I definitely cemented it yesterday. A necessary meeting with a friend/past coworker/my first ever bride client led me back to Moxies for an early lunch. In typical me fashion, I arrived early--early as in doors-just-got-unlocked-early. And thank god I did so--reminiscing with friends meant I couldn't make it past the host stand for 15 minutes, didn't order my lunch for another 10, and took another 2 hours to chew and talk my way through it. And I loved every minute of it. I loved the familiar faces and the warm energy, I loved the where have you beens, the let's do drinks, and the how much do you miss us? from the managers. I loved every interruption, I loved that conversations seemed to pick up and continue as if I never left and I loved being made fun of with the same jokes by the same people. I loved to hear the recent gossip and even loved to hear the complaints just because it gave me comfort to know that some things never change and that, despite it all, these people haven't left.

Why is it that as we work our way through our young adult life we feel like it is necessary for us to upgrade our jobs? To move to something more professional, more advanced, more sophisticated? At least I've always felt that way. If there's one thing that this experience has taught me is that there really is no better or worse job. There is only what works for you, what ultimately makes you the most happy. When we look forward to our future, we typically envision a life of drudgingly dragging ourselves to work everyday, painstakingly punching in and joyously punching out, miserably dealing with demanding bosses and competitive coworkers. But why? I refuse to settle for a future that only pays the bills and puts the food on the table. Likewise, I refuse to have a future that can afford all the luxuries in the world if it means a life of miserable weeks followed by too-short weekends and lacking sufficient time with family, friends, and myself. I refuse to believe that we can't find the perfect medium--where work leaves you fulfilled without stealing your soul just to fill your pockets with money you have no time to enjoy.

It is for these reasons that I have decided to go back to my past. Yes, the same past I ran so quickly from, was so quick to criticize, was so miserable living in. Because I realized that sometimes, you just don't know what you got till its gone. That sometimes, you set your standards higher than you'd actually like them to be. That sometimes no matter how convinced you are that something is perfect, that it is not, and that if it doesn't work, it doesn't work and now its time to move on and get over it. But despite my decision to return to my most recent roots, I will not give up on my pursuit. I will find harmony with work and play. I will find the perfect place for me, the right job, an enjoyable schedule. Even if it means I have to create from scratch, work from the bottom up, build it on my own. And until then, I will use the "life is too short" card to make sure I never have to endure anything that doesn't make me happy for any longer than I absolutely need to.

When Once Upon a Time doesn`t necessarily end in Happily Ever After...

2009-11-30T08:19:00.002-07:00

What do you do when things don't turn out quite how you expected them to? And by 'quite' I mean not even close, not even at all. What do you do when your blessing doesn't leave you feeling very blessed? Do you learn to love things the way they are, or refuse to settle for nothing less than what you really want?

I think I've come to that kind of a crossroad, even despite the short experience I've had with my recent endeavors. Week 1 left me exhausted (after 60 hours of work), week 2 left me drained (after tacking on a second job to my schedule), week 3 gave me much more time to breath (but somehow my sporadic outbursts into tears became much more frequent), week 4, not even yet begun and my motivation is absent, my strength to start the week nonexistent, and my desire for it to be Sunday again is feverish. Maybe my lack of satisfaction stems not from a flaw in the actual jobs, but a flaw in my strength of conscious, physical strength, or something else. Maybe I tend to put things up on too high of a pedestal for them to ever live up. Maybe I am bad at judging my own character--maybe I don't know exactly what I want. Or maybe I could be right. Right in the sense that when something isn't for you, it just isn't for you and you don't need to force yourself to love it.

Let`s break it down. The internship--a dream come true for an inexperienced aspiring event planner. The reality--a not-so-welcoming cramped office working for people who don`t really seem to enthusiastic about their jobs, or the state that it leaves their bank account in. (Leaves me less than thrilled for a position in that company) The restaurant--chic spot downtown, frequent local sports celeb diners, easy and great money and a great learning experience for a growing server. The reality--doing a lot of ego-fueling (def not my thing), sore feet, lack of personal time, feeling alone despite being in a busy restaurant, and no nights to myself. The later starts give me ample gym time, but the amount of hours leave me with not much time for anything else. Recent messages from old coworkers make me miss a past that I was once miserable to call my present.

Now here is the question that I pose to you: (feedback would be greatly appreciated, via facebook is fine): What should I do now that my dream come true is actually a dream fallen through? When the item on the shelf isn`t quite as shiny as whats on display in the window? Do I settle for something less or pass it up to look for something more?

Test, test, 1,2 3

2009-11-19T02:27:00.000-07:00

There's definitely been alot to say about my life lately. I'm going through a transition period that has left me feeling, fortunately or unfortunately, like everyday holds another lesson to learn from, and another challenge to overcome.

As I write my blog on the memo pad of my phone traveling from the Bay St station to Union, I realize I'm very much living my life in transit right now. It is where I conduct most of my business-eat meals, catch up on reading, sleeping, update myself on the lives of my friends, make my plans (really, what plans?), take my unpaid breaks...It`s tiring, but it's not bad. After four years of the commute I am clearly used to it. At least now I'm traveling to places I want to go.

I can't say the transition hasn't been difficult. I'm in the middle of a learning curve where nothing feels familiar and everything requires an effort. Two new completely different jobs, two completely different lists of things I have to master. I know I have been pining for this change for quite some time...but I was not made aware of the toll it would take on me physically, emotionally and mentally. Criticisms, small and big, have made me overly emotional---cut to me, hiding away in the washroom for a quick cry in the middle of a rush, or for a lenghty sob in a late night cab ride home as I listen to my drivers long distance call to Pakistan instead of the radio, while eating dry cereal (are you surprised), half of which misses my mouth and finds a new home all over my jacket, scarf and nylons.

If there's one thing I have learned from these past particularly trying days is that attitude can go a further distance than I have ever imagined. How do you handle the curve balls that come your way? When your not as good at something as you hope to be? When you make a mistake you know you could have avoided? When, instead of getting a shoulder to cry, your ignored with a cold shoulder? What's your breaking point.

I met someone new this past week. Or should I say I had a visit from the figure of the past. The playground bully. Yes, for those who may not know, or those who may not wish to believe, he does exist outside the brick walls of our elementary past. He has infiltrated the boundaries of the real world and, no, he has no mercy. He is no one in particular. He is not only one. He is everywhere--lurking behind wine bottles and server trays, office desks and water coolers. Just waiting to prey on any unsuspecting vulnerable victim--someone I have very much made myself out to be lately...someone you should never allow yourself to become.
This week, the playground bully put me to test. His challenges left me feeling weak and defeated on nights after long days of waking up too early, traveling from here to there, typing in the wrong client number, ringing in the wrong drinks and missing a newly sat table. This week, after coming face to face with the playground bully of my version of the real world, I was faced with two choices. Do I let it weaken me? Do I take the criticisms that I know are not true and rework them into the once confident definition I had of myself not too long ago? Or do I stand up to my bully, deflate his ego by proving him wrong and chuckle to myself as I watch him pretend to not see it, not admit it, as most bullies often do? I think we can safely say we've all met our match. If you haven't yet, count yourself lucky, but remember this for the time when you do: the bully is only as alive as you allow him to be. Don't let him test your opinion of yourself. It has been formed by someone who knows you best, after a lifetime of jumping over hurdles without knocking down the bar, or knocking down the bar and picking yourself up again to finish the race. He is another hurdle. His criticisms are not what defines you, but what defines him. He creates them from anything, anywhere, at any opportunity, to feed his soul and corrupt yours.

A conversation had at work yesterday got me thinking. Why do our minds only cling to the memories of criticisms from others? So quickly casting aside the compliments, filing them to a part of our mind it takes too much effort for us to retrieve them from on a rainy day? Why do we let the playground bully stay alive in our thoughts, threatening our self esteem, and forget about our desk partners who complimented our hairbands and brought us chocolates at all the appropriate holidays?

Yes, I have learned that well in a short period time. Life in the real world isn't all I dreamt it would be. There are days when I skip to the subway, and others when I watch the time go backwards on the clock. There are nights when I`m close to giving up, followed by mornings of post-workout rejuvanation, followed by days of success. There are days when you are hurt by people who you thought were there to help, and surprised to be helped by those who you thought wanted to see you hurt.There are times when it breaks your heart to learn that a smile and a sweet demeanor won`t get you what you want, when nice guys will not finish first, when not everyone you meet will like you or think you`re smart. But it`s time to face it. I am here now, world. I am here at least in my new world. I either have to face the challenge, or risk the loss. The true test is letting your mind chose which one is more worth it.

Tip toeing through the minefield

2009-11-13T06:00:00.000-07:00

Why is it that when things are going good in our lives we automatically retort to saying that "it's too good to be true"? Lately, I've found that line running through my head more often than I am comfortable with. When times are rough, its always a grass-is-greener-on-the-other-side scenario. Isn't the whole point of that phrase to get us to appreciate what we have, no matter if it doesn't exactly meet up with our expectations? But when we finally get everything we ask for, instead of being grateful, we simply begin to anticipate our own failure. After landing a sweet job at a hot restaurant right in the heart of the city, an amazing internship with a prominent company doing exactly what I want to be doing in my future, celebrating an anniversary of a relationship that makes me happier daily, being in a good place with friends and family, I can't deny that I am not walking on eggshells. When will this all come crumbling down? How can I be so lucky? Is this all just building up to an even harder downfall? To put the stakes even higher, on Tuesday, day 2 of the internship, I was offered a part-time position (yes, paid) by the director of events and catering...at the same moment that he shook my hand after meeting me. I'm trying to stay positive, think like The Secret taught me and attract only good things to myself. But I must admit, it is a challenge when you lived a life with many many downs and not always so many ups. If life is a game, my winning streak is only making it more likely for an impending loss. But I refuse to be a statistic--this time I want to beat the odds. I will appreciate what I am being given without fear. I'm sitting at the highest table, with a full house...I'm raising the stakes, I'm going all in....will I take it all or will I flop?

Excuse me, Mr. Webster, can you please redefine lavish?

2009-11-09T05:58:00.000-07:00

Is there something wrong with simply loving the simple life? I don't wish for extravagance. I don't enjoy dressing up (or barely dressing) on Saturday nights just to go somewhere that you can't hear yourself think, to waste calories on drinks you don't want to drink, just to waste your money on memories you won't remember. Not saying I judge those who take pleasure in this at all, I was once the downtown Toronto nightclub scene mascot. I have just learned to like early nights and even earlier mornings followed by productive days that lead into relaxingly rewarding nights. I prefer Sunday afternoons to Saturday evenings. I enjoy tasty dinners accompanied by exotically flavoured martinis and full-bodied wines at a dining hot-spot on the town. Even more I love home cooked dinners in, maybe not as a tasty, with a bottle of randomly chosen LCBO wine, sometimes not as prized. I find pleasure in comfort--in coming home from a long days work to curl up with a good movie, your favorite show. I find it in tacky decorating for the holidays and cooking festive treats, in books about women who walk stylishly and purposefully to their Manhattan offices, or books about history and legend. I daydream about a house with a backyard and a dog and a barbecue. My favorite channels feature shows that reinvent the living room and cook you dinner. I like to turn off my phone ringer sometimes, so I can live alone in silence, even if I do this as I sit in a noisy cafeteria at lunch time. I question whether my interests are strange. Or why they don't include the normal activities of someone my age. Did I miss out in Europe when my days were filled with sun and sand and my nights simply with gelatos, wine and my dreams? Should I put my name on guest lists to force entry to these standard weekend venues? Should I shop for clothes that I can only possibly wear out to ensure social activity? Or should I continue my life down under the radar, guilt free, where I am admittedly most content, yet where I risk most judgement for being an awkward social hermit?

Take Me Away

2009-11-07T07:47:00.000-07:00

We all have those days when we want nothing else but to disappear...for a day, for a week, for a month...to a place real or imagined... to explore, to learn a new culture, to get away from our troubles or to revisit the magical lands we were introduced to as a child. When I get into one of these moods, and a vacation is not on the horizon, I have only one indulgence that will satisfy my craving (besides cereal). To me, there is nothing like a well-crafted animated film that can take me away to serenity in a restless mind. It doesn't take much to make me happy...a Disney classic of fairytale lands, princesses and dragons, a Tim Burton ingenious creation of pumpkin men in Santa Claus suits or travels to the land of the living dead, and most recently, a trip through Henry Selick's trap door to meet the people with the button eyes and their sinister abducter. What can be more exciting than wrapping yourself up in a blanket and being taken on a journey to an unknown far-away land? To meet creatures of the underworld, ghosts of christmas past, misguided Halloween icons, madhatters and rabbits who can tell time? To watch candles come to life and sing and dance, to dance with a friendly beast, to see your imagination come to life on the screen in the form of the North Pole, of hobbit holes and giant peach houses? The two or so hours is all it takes to refresh your thoughts and invigorate your mind. The credits roll and I am ready to work even harder to make my dreams come to life.

I patiently wait for 1 oclock to roll around, when I will indulge once more in the much anticipated (by me) Christmas Carol with Jim Carrey. I'm sure it will be just as whimsical as I expect it to be with just the perfect amount of Christmas to inspire my holiday crafts. Expect my feedback to be posted shortly.

Confessions of a procrastinator

2009-11-05T03:03:00.001-07:00

I always follow the same routine when I get into a new hobby, past time or interest. I usually attack it feverishly on the onset--buy any product that has to do with it, spend all my time thinking about it, working on it, etc etc. Then, slowly but surely (quite obviously as no intensity that strong ever lasts), the interest wanes and the hobby is usually either placed permanently on the self of the past or sticks around in the back of my mind, re-surfacing on rainy days when my mind is empty. That would be my explanation for the lack of recent entries on my part. My days, however, have been anything but empty. I won't bore you with the details, just a quick update on what came to be of all the exciting new events I had on the horizon. Ki Restaurant: I officially finished my training shifts last night. All I have to say is: Thank God I wasn't in school during this process. On the upside, I now feel fully educated in Japanese cuisine technique and terminology (pshhtt and I thought I'd stop at Spanish...) But I must admit that I am extremely happy here. Although the learning process has been challenging, I have felt both supported and warmly welcomed throughout it all. The clientele is awesome from what I see-similar to a Moxie's weekday lunch crowd. The hustle and bustle of the Bay street diners makes me yearn to be a top notch stock brocker or lawyer (just so I could wear fancy woman's power suits and demand all the attention and special treatment I could get!) I start on the floor next Wednesday I believe...until then I will anxiously wait to put my new skills to test and finally start making some dinero. Equally, if not more, exciting is the new internship I started this past Tuesday. Yes yes! I am officially an intern girl. And for one of the big boys in event and catering--Eatertainment. My tasks for now will be contract data entry and just generally learning what happens before an event comes to life. From there, I will move into more hands on stuff at actual events. Despite the fact that my boss Meelee warned me the office work was anything but exciting, I was loving my tasks on Tuesday. I guess I just had the geeky newbie thrills. Extra perk? Free food and drinks at the Bloor Street Diner express cafe...I guess my obligatory coffee runs won't be so bad now that there's something in it for me too;)...With my internship being in the Manulife centre in the beautiful Yorkville district on Tuesdays and working at Ki at Bay and Wellington every other day, I am now happy to call downtown my new home...(and will it officially be so in the near future? That seems to be the new household proposal for now)

I am feeling, finally, extremely fulfilled. My new schedule leaves me little time to dwell on my future and I am now working towards my career goal. I am so lucky to have landed two excellent positions in two thriving companies in the two fields I love the most. Only time will tell if I can make something permanent and successful from either of these opportunities.

But first, this calls for a celebration...and what is truly better than 3 nights up north relaxing with wine and food and my great boyfriend?

Till I return..maybe...or maybe in a month, or so?

Lights, camera, fashion

2009-10-19T05:26:00.000-06:00

Today is the day. Day One of my much anticipated hectic week. It already feels like this week is brimming with opportunities. I start my day off with my first meeting with the event coordinator/training coordinator at Ki. Then I will proceed on to my first shift volunteering at Toronto LG's Fashion Week. I feel like there's just so much to take in this week. Who knows who I will spot on and around the runway? Who knows what tips this coordinator will give me this week? And with a possible second job at a brand new upscale supper club and an interview for an internship at a prominent event planning company in the horizon, who knows what else this week will have in store...

Falling back into that festive feel

2009-10-18T11:04:00.000-06:00

I absolutely love days like today. Days when it seems like everything and anything leaves you feeling inspired. I woke up in a particularly good mood, despite a short night's sleep. Sundays are the perfect day--when you truly feel like you deserve a day of rest after a week of activity. For me it's a day of rest in anticipation of a week with a jam-packed (yet equally exciting) schedule. I spent the first few hours of my morning perusing the internet--adding fuel to my creative desires through the Martha Stewart website's arts and crafts and pumpkin template sections. Yes, she has been recently added to my celebrity icon list and yes, I choose to disregard any past felonies that may be lurking on her resume. I feel like my new-found love for entertaining and decorating hobbies have left me feeling like I'm growing more and more into who my dad used to be each day--a feeling so unbelievably overwhelming yet unbelievably stimulating at the same time.

With a kick of energy from my espresso, I hopped over to Fortino's for a quick grocery run on my mom's behalf. There's something about Fortino's that always puts me in a good mood. Normally I despise having to fight through weekend crowds, but today I reveled in it: young couples shopping for a family Sunday lunch (my favorite), beautifully coloured fall produce of pumpkins, squash, sweet potatoes and Ontario apples, excited kids running around the Halloween treat aisle, and moms with grocery carts loaded with this years selections of extra-giant pumpkins. Yes! Pumpkins are exactly what I need today. I must say, I definitely did not look as graceful as the moms inside as I struggled to pick up two pumpkins at once which resulted in a twisted wrist, a popped knee cap and a dirty outfit. It didn't matter-the pumpkins were worth it and today is one of those days when no amount of struggle can bring you down.

There is no doubt in my mind that my burst of energy stems from last night. I have added yet another person to my icon list and, although this lady may not be celeb-status, she definitely meets and exceeds those ranks in my books. Before a birthday night out on the town in honour of Erica, us girls gathered at her house for a little pre-soiree hosted by the fabulous Sandra. I was instantly impressed (and envious) of the gorgeous fall decor scattered around the house-pumpkins of all sizes and colours, vanilla candles, and even Halloween hand towels. I was blown away at the spread that enticed me on the (beautiful) kitchen table: shrimp skewers with a spinach aioli, arugula parmigiano and fig salad, cheese gougeres and a fabulous cheese and honey spread all of which was perfectly complimented with Vanilla Sky and Pumpkin Patch cocktails created by John. I swear I did not want to leave that kitchen, I wish we could have brought the club to us and stayed right there. There's something about that house that is definitely magical. So I would like to officially and publicly thank both Sandra and John for an amazing evening that left me feeling fulfilled both in my stomach and in my heart and mind (bring on the cheesy remarks) and with a renewed desire to let out my creative tendencies whenever and wherever I can.

So now, I wait for my new Giada cookbook and Canadian Living Complete Christmas Guide book to arrive in the mail via amazon.ca before I begin to plan my Christmas wine and cheese party. But my days will be filled with fall decorating, pumpkin carving and holiday cookie making until then!

Unemployed is a four letter word...

2009-10-17T15:52:00.000-06:00

Finally!! After weeks and weeks of searching, emailing, calling, etc, etc, etc, I have finally landed what should be a lucrative job! I am now officially a new member of the team at Ki Restaurant and Lounge at Bay & Wellington. The offer did not come without some work--an hour and a half interview and several grilling sessions from several of the restaurant's managers. It was all worth it in the end. This is essentially the dream position I've been trying to land since my introduction into the serving industry over a year ago. Not only do I have a new job, but a new job right in the beautiful financial district of downtown Toronto. I finally get to return to the commuting scene--with much more enthusiasm, might I add, considering I will be commuting to a place that I want to be. My orientation is on Monday, before my first shift at Fashion Week. AND on top of it all, I will be trained by the restaurant's very own event coordinator--fate? I think so. I was asked how I felt about double shifts....hopefully this means I will get somewhat full-time hours. Surprisingly, I am more than ecstatic to leave the empty, uneventful lifestyle that I have lately become imprisoned by. So I guess patience really is a virtue--but where in the fine print does it say that it comes with the painful price of anxiety???

Woo hoo! Welcome me back to the working world!!

Raw meat, what a treat!

2009-10-12T12:04:00.000-06:00

After assisting in the creation of a beautiful stuffing dish and filling it up inside the giant deceased bird, I, for my first time ever, threaded shut a turkey. Texture: slimy. Process: proved more difficult than my mom made it look, hence the bent needle that I ended up will. End result: fulfilling...maybe I'll voluntarily kill some live lobsters after all.

Trix are definitely not just for kids

2009-10-12T10:18:00.000-06:00

I actually firmly believe that there's a big conspiracy going on in the cereal industry. And no, you did not just read a typo. I am absolutely convinced that there is some sort of added addictive chemical that they put in cereal that makes it impossible to stop at just one bowl. That would explain how I am so good at self-restraint in every single other aspect of my life aside from breakfast. I try to ban myself from said addiction for weeks at a time but I can never get past day 3 without giving in--excluding last Lent, but that's only because I didn't want to spend the rest of eternity in the fiery depths of hell. It would also explain why, even though I knew I was about to indulge in a four course Turkey dinner alongside four courses of wine, I still managed to scarf down two servings of the tasty treat this morning. Now I will blame my full stomach for for not allowing me to go to the hot yoga class I was trying to force myself to go to this morning. I guess that's what the holidays are for. I'm looking forward to a week of restraint AND extra cardio sessions.

Julie and Julia? Or Liana and Giada?

2009-10-11T09:07:00.001-06:00

I went to go watch Julie and Julia last weekend. Warning: definitely not a good idea to watch this if your a foodie, or at least a broke foodie, such as myself. I thought the movie was adorable...but all it did was 1) make me hungry and 2) make me want to copy Julie's cooking challenge. Soooo, 40 dollars a new Giada de Laurentiis cookbook later, I decided to do just that. However, on a smaller scale. Julie challenged herself to cook all of 500-and-something recipes in the Julia Child cookbook in one year. My challenge? Cook all of the recipes (I believe there's about a hundred) in Giada's newest Italian cookbook-Giada's Kitchen. My reasoning behind this? I need to learn how to cook. The domestic woman's gene in me is slowly surfacing. My motivation? My desire to become a professional entertainer and cocktail party thrower in combination with my love for Giada, Italian food, and the modern miracles she works on authentic recipes. My test subjects? My mom (her talent in the kitchen will make her a tough critic), my boyfriend (his stomach is already doing hunger flips of excitement) and my sister (I'm sure her nit-picking will make its way through some of the dishes). I'll keep you posted on my progress, but I'm sorry to say, that unlike Julia Child's book, none of these recipes will involve me killing live lobsters.

Triumph of the Frump

2009-10-11T08:40:00.000-06:00

My recent lack of social activity has killed my desire to dress in anything but track pants and sweaters. The part of my brain that was once so focused on style and fashion has temporarily (hopefully only temporarily) gone on hiatus and been clouded over by thoughts of warmth and comfort. You would think that when I was forced to trek downtown for my Toronto LG Fashion Week volunteer meeting that I would have wanted to get into the spirit and dress like I could possibly belong in the scene. Buuuttt comfort won the wardrobe battle once again and so I headed to King St West dressed in my runners, lulus, a gray cardy and a patterned pashmina. When I pulled up to the building I cannot tell you how lost and out of place I was. Everyone was dressed to impressed in their jeans and boots, their toques and blazers. I could feel the fashionistas eyes burning into me and scourning me for my outfit choice. It wasn't until we got our assignments that my confidence got a boost. Despite having applied late, I somehow managed to land a position working backstage. At first I was oblivious to the importance of this position until we backstagers were seperated from the group--apparently "everyone" wanted this "coveted" position, we were told, but only a few of us were selected for certain reasons (who knows what they were) After hearing the job description and learning that, despite the fact that the position is hectic, I would be working one on one with all the models and designers, I became overwhemlingly excited. I could feel the shopping-addict, fashion magazine-lover and fashionably concerned citizen bubbling up in me all over again. Step aside, doubting fashionistas, looks like the frump came out on top this time.

Bowing out to Break Through

2009-10-04T06:44:00.000-06:00

Sooo, its been just over a month since post-graduation season truly began. After being a professional student my whole life, New Years truly comes for me in September when the leaves fall off the trees and are used to replenish the shelves of any store's school-supply section. Basically right now, my life feels like it is anything but counter-productive. I've always been the "pssshh do we reaaallyyy need a car to get around?" type--now, I find myself scouring the Autotrader website daily for something--ANYTHING--that will fit into my student-loan-plagued budget. Please, I'm sending out an S-O-S to anyone that can save me from the confines of my house which has become an all too familiar prison for me ever since the slow economical season of the year began and shifts were cut short at work.

But my restlessness is not only caused by my yearning to spend more time at Moxie's Classic Grill. This is the first time (that I can actually remember) in my 22 years of life that I am not back in school full-time for the year. It is a feeling strange beyond strange. For the past four years of university I had school to back up my 'I'm still young and have time to create a future for myself' motto. Now, when people ask me what I'm doing with my life, my answer is simple, honest and to the point--nothing. And it drives me absolutely crazy. I am anxious to be a part of something bigger, something so much more and something that I want to be doing--something I've been dying to do for the past two years.

This past Saturday I spent my first day working somewhat in the field in which I plan to make a future. When one my best friends asked me to help her coordinate a wedding, I had to tone my excitement down so she wouldn't think I was a complete loser. The day was great--ensuring everything was perfect for what may be the bride's best day of her life. It was a fairy tale wedding--big wedding party, vintage cars, extensive guest list, chic decor--the works. And just being a part of it all coming together was amazing. I went to bed feeling truly tired from a truly fulfilling day for the first time in a long time.

And so, after a thrilling experience and stemming from a month's worth of anxiety, I have decided to make my official Pseudo-New Years Resolution. It is time to pack it up--the past, that is. The times when I studied through the week and raced to the clubs and the parties and the alcohol on the weekends. My stomach can no longer handle it (last weekend is my proof of that) Now, although still a fresh graduate, I have to seize my enthusiasm for a successful future and use it to do something productive. I must put myself out there, grab any opportunity that comes my way-whether its single-handedly planning a wedding, or serving cocktails at a bar mitzvah. Yes. I am ready world. Look out for me, I'm determined and I'm coming.....right after I find the perfect career-woman blazer and shoes. Right?

Before naptime...

2009-09-25T06:15:00.000-06:00

For some reason, these past few weeks I've been plagued with a constant feeling of nostalgia. I've always been a little kid at heart but it seems like lately my desire to be 12 again is particularly fierce. Ever since I graduated last June, I've felt like a lost puppy. Don't get me wrong, I definitely don't miss the days of trudging downtown through any insane weather temperature or condition...just thinking of it makes me shudder. Maybe its because I live behind an elementary school. Everyday, at 10:20am, when I'm usually home alone, the silence is broken with sounds of recess bells and yelling kids. Everyday, at 10:20am, I think about how much I wish I was out there with them.

My childhood was definitely epic. I lived in a fantasy world created both in mind and shared in the minds of my two across-the-street neighbours. We wrote books (and did our best to live in the stories we invented), we rode our bikes to what seemed like the other end of the earth, we made movies, we held seances, we told scary stories, read scary books and lived for Halloween where we could truly express ourselves in the years most creative holiday. We loved every second of it. Life was so simple, yet so interesting, so fulfilling. And now I'm free from the bonds of school and university and responsibility and all I want is to feel as free as I did in those days...

But the sad thing is, I'm not 12 anymore and life isn't the same fantasy it used to be. It hurts to write it as a statement because |I spend so much of my time denying its truth. I express my longing for the past through my addiction to cereal, cartoon, Disney, Barbie, children books and fairy tales. Its embarrassing to admit that amazon.ca's daily recommendations for me include Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs Platinum DVD addition...and even sadder that I actually contemplate ordering it every day. Don't we all just wish we could be kids again?

The seal is broken.

2009-09-23T05:25:00.000-06:00

So, this is it. My first ever blog. My first ever anything that involves me sharing any personal thoughts with anybody except for my journal (and yes, I do refer to my journal as a real person--or else I'd feel like I was just talking to myself and let's face it, I can save a lot of energy by just doing that in my head). I must admit that I'm pretty nervous. I signed up for blogspot almost a week ago and it took me this long to muster up the courage to actually write my first post. Am I crazy for having these anxieties? Am I any good at this? Will people like me? Will people like my blog? Is my title good enough? Should any of this even matter?

I haven't experienced the thrill of freestyle writing for quite some time now--not since I left elementary school and got the creative life sucked out of me by high school and good old theory-loving university. I'd like to thank my talented friend and budding journalist super-star Erica for inspiring me to start this project. You can check out her blog at http://erica-ec.blogspot.com/. I'd also like to thank my dad for always praising my creative writing projects in school and proudly showing them off to anyone who was willing to listen. Now let's hope that I continue to inspire myself to write more entries and not get bored and abandon this project like I do so many others.

So since this is starting to sound like an acceptance speech, (for an nonexistent award, might I add, which I have created in my mind the same way that I created my friend, Journal) I think I'm just gonna sum this up with this: hello, blog world. It's nice to finally meet you. I really truly believe this could be the start of a great relationship.