11.24.2003
11.23.2003
Accumulating Toronto Experiences
Before I left Victoria, I had a list of things that I wanted to do in Toronto. I'm a big fan of doing things. Hanging out is great, but when you live in a city like I do (he he he) it seems silly to sit still for too long, even if it is for a Maple Leafs game on tv. And so, upon arriving I set about to cross things of my list:
CN Tower: done
Toronto Symphony: done
Big City music scene: done
401: done
The list goes on...but even better, it keeps getting longer. And the opportunities for fun and culture keep falling asleep in my lap. Today I went to Air Canada Centre for the first time and watched the Raptors lose...from really really good seats. If we waved our hand in the air they broughts us wine and sushi, and Vince Carter would look up from the court to wave back. And the best part was that the tickets were free- our boss gave each of his employees $180 platinum tickets. And so, my story of fabulous Tdot experiences keeps going. Got any ideas?
CN Tower: done
Toronto Symphony: done
Big City music scene: done
401: done
The list goes on...but even better, it keeps getting longer. And the opportunities for fun and culture keep falling asleep in my lap. Today I went to Air Canada Centre for the first time and watched the Raptors lose...from really really good seats. If we waved our hand in the air they broughts us wine and sushi, and Vince Carter would look up from the court to wave back. And the best part was that the tickets were free- our boss gave each of his employees $180 platinum tickets. And so, my story of fabulous Tdot experiences keeps going. Got any ideas?
11.20.2003
Times New Roman
Struggling to get through the last hundred pages of The Market System by Charles Lindblom. And, as my mind begins to wander, I think about the month that lies ahead of me. Four assignments due next week. Work. A week “free”. Work. Four finals. Work. Victoria. In between those focal points is, of course, the occasional recreation activity: Raptors game this Sunday. Roger Sanchez. The Res talent show. Niagra Falls. Jacob Two-Two and the Hooded Fang. Bye-Bye Birdie. Holiday parties.
I can’t believe how I’ve ended up here- a month before my first term at U of T is finished- without time to think or breathe or live the life I was looking for out here. I have waves of it occasionally, but mostly this is a gotta-get-through-this time. When will I have time to learn and live? I find it hard to believe that university is a time to put your heart and brain on hold, but at this point it mostly feels like that. Or at the end, will I look back and feel satisfied with what I got out of this whirlwind? Perhaps that is what it is…I know that I love it, I just can’t find time to sit back and soak it in to appreciate it. Each time I’ve completed something, participated in something, felt something, there’s something else to complete, participate in and feel. But at the same time I want to do more.
Ah, the typical paradox. Life’s always simpler when I’ve had a look at it in times new roman.
I can’t believe how I’ve ended up here- a month before my first term at U of T is finished- without time to think or breathe or live the life I was looking for out here. I have waves of it occasionally, but mostly this is a gotta-get-through-this time. When will I have time to learn and live? I find it hard to believe that university is a time to put your heart and brain on hold, but at this point it mostly feels like that. Or at the end, will I look back and feel satisfied with what I got out of this whirlwind? Perhaps that is what it is…I know that I love it, I just can’t find time to sit back and soak it in to appreciate it. Each time I’ve completed something, participated in something, felt something, there’s something else to complete, participate in and feel. But at the same time I want to do more.
Ah, the typical paradox. Life’s always simpler when I’ve had a look at it in times new roman.
11.15.2003
Deli-madness
Gosh! My weekends are so full- work work work. I love the deli. That I can disappear from regular school (etc) life for two days without feeling unproductive. And then I reemerge with one day again before school starts again. So, I've just finished 21 hours in two days, and am ready for some party! Oh wait, no party this weekend. Chill plans.
Cryptic.
Love Kate
Cryptic.
Love Kate
11.11.2003
To Act...but on what?
How can I be a social activist if I don't know what to be active about?
This question has been a struggle for a while- one that I hoped would be answered to some degree with participation in an international development program like the one I'm in, but alas, it is still on my mind. If anything, I find myself more confused (perhaps a good thing as things have to get worse before getting better?). In this program, which is fundementally a critique of development history, there is very little action to develop new concepts of development. Perhaps one could say it is an underdeveloped development program? The subject matter leaves me feeling that there is nothing we, or I, can do to alleviate poverty, reduce the gap, create the good society...the discourse overwhelms me.
But for some reason, others in the program seem so confident in their activism. This week, there is a free trade fair, organized primarily by IDSers. Yes, the conditions of the workers are perhaps better. But, the money for the coffee is still exiting the country, put in the hands of western fair traders. And last week, they organized a walk to raise money for a well in Cambodia. I was shocked, as earlier that week, we'd learned about the implicit implications (often negative) of building such a well in such a community. Doesn't this program, if anything, make them stop and think for a second?
Actually, though, I admire their confidence in their actions. As I begin to think more seriously about how I will address development issues, I wish that I was more confident in identifying issues I could potentially tackle. It would be much easier if I believed passionatly one way or the other. However, as some people are wont to say, that's not necessarily so.
This question has been a struggle for a while- one that I hoped would be answered to some degree with participation in an international development program like the one I'm in, but alas, it is still on my mind. If anything, I find myself more confused (perhaps a good thing as things have to get worse before getting better?). In this program, which is fundementally a critique of development history, there is very little action to develop new concepts of development. Perhaps one could say it is an underdeveloped development program? The subject matter leaves me feeling that there is nothing we, or I, can do to alleviate poverty, reduce the gap, create the good society...the discourse overwhelms me.
But for some reason, others in the program seem so confident in their activism. This week, there is a free trade fair, organized primarily by IDSers. Yes, the conditions of the workers are perhaps better. But, the money for the coffee is still exiting the country, put in the hands of western fair traders. And last week, they organized a walk to raise money for a well in Cambodia. I was shocked, as earlier that week, we'd learned about the implicit implications (often negative) of building such a well in such a community. Doesn't this program, if anything, make them stop and think for a second?
Actually, though, I admire their confidence in their actions. As I begin to think more seriously about how I will address development issues, I wish that I was more confident in identifying issues I could potentially tackle. It would be much easier if I believed passionatly one way or the other. However, as some people are wont to say, that's not necessarily so.
11.10.2003
Amousia
"Why should creatures have the burden of existence forced on them without their consent?"
CS Lewis, from Surprised by Joy.
Ah. I loved the Narnia series. But had no idea that this man wrote like I think. Just read.
CS Lewis, from Surprised by Joy.
Ah. I loved the Narnia series. But had no idea that this man wrote like I think. Just read.
11.09.2003
Thank you Boris and Mr.401
Just for a complete change in musical events: I went to the TSO last night. For those of you who aren't quite as hip and bohemian and Torontonian as I am, that's the Toronto Symphony Orchestra. Although we had seats that restricted our view of the orchestra to the strings section, we could still see the dynamic Swedish conductor. I sat there for the hour and a half, trying to understand the language he was talking and getting filled with random pleasureable thoughts. And then, being me I had to write them down, so now I have a program filled with spastic comments and inspired revelations.
The music iteslf was wonderful. During the first half, in his TSO Debut, Boris Berezovsky delivered me to Rachmaninoff ecstacy. In the second, Boris had vanished, but Sibelius fufilled my every need in orchestral music. And the nice thing about this event was I was home at 9:30 at night, rather than in the morning, as some music events encourage.
Another bonus to the TSO experience was the sheer number of chic people crowded into the chic space. Aside from a flirtation of red here and there, the whole colour scheme was decidedly black white. God I love this city.
Afterwards, I drove home on the 401. Perhaps you don't think this is a big deal but it is!!! We live about half an hour outside of Toronto proper, and as Phil'd had a bit to drink, I found myself behind the wheel and entering the 401, surrounded by Leafs Fans who wanted to make it to the Air Canada Centre in time to see the Leafs kick Edmonton's asses. Anyway. The 401. I've been driving a little lately, but nothing compares to the thrill of a twelve lane highway, in a very urban area. The best part is when you're hurtling toward skyscrapers and the CN tower at 135km/h. And yes, I did drive downtown in rush hour traffic. For some reason, I have such a prolonged sense of satisfaction from the whole thing.
The music iteslf was wonderful. During the first half, in his TSO Debut, Boris Berezovsky delivered me to Rachmaninoff ecstacy. In the second, Boris had vanished, but Sibelius fufilled my every need in orchestral music. And the nice thing about this event was I was home at 9:30 at night, rather than in the morning, as some music events encourage.
Another bonus to the TSO experience was the sheer number of chic people crowded into the chic space. Aside from a flirtation of red here and there, the whole colour scheme was decidedly black white. God I love this city.
Afterwards, I drove home on the 401. Perhaps you don't think this is a big deal but it is!!! We live about half an hour outside of Toronto proper, and as Phil'd had a bit to drink, I found myself behind the wheel and entering the 401, surrounded by Leafs Fans who wanted to make it to the Air Canada Centre in time to see the Leafs kick Edmonton's asses. Anyway. The 401. I've been driving a little lately, but nothing compares to the thrill of a twelve lane highway, in a very urban area. The best part is when you're hurtling toward skyscrapers and the CN tower at 135km/h. And yes, I did drive downtown in rush hour traffic. For some reason, I have such a prolonged sense of satisfaction from the whole thing.
11.01.2003
Fete
Party. It was halloween night, as I assume it was for many of you, and so I had to party. Earlier in the year, a friend Jenn had introduced me to the fabulous world of jungle music, and last night she did it again.
The first component was the costume. I have very strong opinons about halloween costumes. First, the concept must be witty and original. Secondly it must be well executed and aesthetically pleasing. Jenn and I were all and both. Wrapped in vines and littered with ferns and sparkles, I was a wood nymph straight out of A Midsummer Night's Dream (only sexier. I know that I did it in Vic a couple years ago, but that's the fabulous thing about new cities...you can recycle old ideas). Jenn was fully sexy in her old sheet mummy get up. So much midriff! I wish I could put photos here, but alas we are committed to disposables and have yet to develop the film.
We went to Theory again, the same party that we went to last time at the Kool Haus. Again, it featured UK DJ's, and again we were right up front. I am starting to get my jungle legs, as Jenn calls them. As I mentioned in the last post, since I've gotten I've been exposed to quite a variety of musical stylings. I think that jungle can definitly become part of my scene, especially with the continued quality of djs like Grooverider and Goldie.
All in all a fabulous night...not too many stories to tell as this was a dance-your-pants-off event.
Just on a side note, it's interesting that meeting people at parties has evolved for me from just saying hi and talking about whatever to a comparison of the big names and big parties we've been to. I remember that I used to think people like that, who wanted to talk about the value of the music while we were dancing to it instead of just dancing to it, were pretentious. Now I just tell everyone I meet that I went to see Tiesto.
10.29.2003
Even a stopped clock gives the right time twice a day
When looking around for a blog in the depths of my brain, I often try to pick out themes that are present in my life. Something that keeps coming up lately is the general concept of worship. In fact, I'm having a conversation about worship as we speak.
For starters, in the most conventional sense, worship involves God and pews and holywater. I've been surrounded by religion lately as two of my closest friends here in Toronto have huge amounts of faith. Both Christians, they've opened my atheistic eyes to their individual versions of worship by answering my countless questions. Faith has ceased to be about organized religion, as I've often thought it was, and has become the conscientious interpretation these individual's make of their beliefs.
Worship again comes up in the form of entertainment. I've been a trance junkie for what seems like forever, and that faith continues here. It is a common analogy to compare partying to religion, so I won't delve deeper into it, except to say that I've been invited to sample other denomonations in the form of jungle, house and techno by my new party friends here. My weekends are frequently full of musical worship.
The final form in which worship is relevant is how it relates to me personally: I desire attention, but more specifically, I desire worship. I'm aware that this type of statement proves my arrogance and vanity, but perhaps by publicizing it I can reduce the sins involved. I find that frequently my actions are motivated by the desire to inspire awe, shock and therefore worship from others. The way I smile, flirt, speak, and move are all carefully designed as a result of lifelong experiment to increase the likelihood of worship.
In this blog I'm concieving of worship as something to give and recieve, an action. But is it perhaps more of an emotion, something more sensorial we are unable to manipulate? Can I choose the things I worship? Can I make something worship me? Is there such thing as subconcious worship and how does it manifest itself? Can worship be developed and enhanced? How general is my sense of worship? According to Jerry Soloman, "the word 'worship' can become a cliche devoid of significant content if we don't stop to consider its meaning." I think he's right, and as a result, am fascinated by worship.
For starters, in the most conventional sense, worship involves God and pews and holywater. I've been surrounded by religion lately as two of my closest friends here in Toronto have huge amounts of faith. Both Christians, they've opened my atheistic eyes to their individual versions of worship by answering my countless questions. Faith has ceased to be about organized religion, as I've often thought it was, and has become the conscientious interpretation these individual's make of their beliefs.
Worship again comes up in the form of entertainment. I've been a trance junkie for what seems like forever, and that faith continues here. It is a common analogy to compare partying to religion, so I won't delve deeper into it, except to say that I've been invited to sample other denomonations in the form of jungle, house and techno by my new party friends here. My weekends are frequently full of musical worship.
The final form in which worship is relevant is how it relates to me personally: I desire attention, but more specifically, I desire worship. I'm aware that this type of statement proves my arrogance and vanity, but perhaps by publicizing it I can reduce the sins involved. I find that frequently my actions are motivated by the desire to inspire awe, shock and therefore worship from others. The way I smile, flirt, speak, and move are all carefully designed as a result of lifelong experiment to increase the likelihood of worship.
In this blog I'm concieving of worship as something to give and recieve, an action. But is it perhaps more of an emotion, something more sensorial we are unable to manipulate? Can I choose the things I worship? Can I make something worship me? Is there such thing as subconcious worship and how does it manifest itself? Can worship be developed and enhanced? How general is my sense of worship? According to Jerry Soloman, "the word 'worship' can become a cliche devoid of significant content if we don't stop to consider its meaning." I think he's right, and as a result, am fascinated by worship.
F6
I've said it before and I'll say it again: yay roommates. We continue to grow closer and more comfortable with each other, and more and more I'm realizing how much they are the most positive influence in my life here. I was always skeptical of the "lifelong friendships with undergrad housemates" but I think the hype might be right for once. We've just finished another session of sitting and chatting, this time on Kate's bed. It's amazing how often we do that...you'd think that by now we'd have run out of things to talk about and laugh about.
Home life's evolved a bit in the past couple of days to involve a revolving door. It seems as if we've had more visitors than ever- 8 or 9 people just popped their head in today at least! It's nice to have constant people to talk to, and at the risk of sounding fickle, it's an egoboost. It's a bit as if I'm living the stereotypical "college life" of a character on Sweet Vally High. Still, I look forward to being able to breathe again as I don't quite feel I can in these close quarters.
Often I want to have a moral, some wit, or at least a general statement to conclude my blog with. As this topic keeps on coming up, it's hard to explain its significance. Just know that because it comes up a lot, it means a lot. I suppose in this case, in a suburb I hate, with an ugly school to my left, it's the people around me who are defining the environment and my habitat and so I'm finding I rely on them more for my entertainment and enjoyment. It's not what I ever expected, but it's got its merits and perhaps it's something to add to my vision of my future.
Home life's evolved a bit in the past couple of days to involve a revolving door. It seems as if we've had more visitors than ever- 8 or 9 people just popped their head in today at least! It's nice to have constant people to talk to, and at the risk of sounding fickle, it's an egoboost. It's a bit as if I'm living the stereotypical "college life" of a character on Sweet Vally High. Still, I look forward to being able to breathe again as I don't quite feel I can in these close quarters.
Often I want to have a moral, some wit, or at least a general statement to conclude my blog with. As this topic keeps on coming up, it's hard to explain its significance. Just know that because it comes up a lot, it means a lot. I suppose in this case, in a suburb I hate, with an ugly school to my left, it's the people around me who are defining the environment and my habitat and so I'm finding I rely on them more for my entertainment and enjoyment. It's not what I ever expected, but it's got its merits and perhaps it's something to add to my vision of my future.
10.26.2003
10.23.2003
Looseleaf Constraint
...Have been writing all day, all week, all year, in various forms, yet still cannot seem to get all the things in my head down on paper...
10.22.2003
Hot Pink Life
I want to write a quick note about how tumultuous a week this has been so far...and it is only wednesday. The three factors in the tumult are: roommates, exams and other. The way each of them make me feel is so contradictory, but simultaneously so intense, that it's all a bit overwhelming. First off, I've totally and completely bonded with my roommates this week. It is really unbelievable. We started delving into each other's closets- literally, and now we're closer than ever before. Funny how grad dresses and pashminas can bring people together! And I don't know how I would have gotten this far into this week without them.
I've had two midterms so far this week, and have two more to go. It's been difficult because I've had to catch up on a lot of stuff because I got behind last week as I had three large assignments due. The only problem with an interdisciplinary program in which I am taking courses in first, second and third year, is that everything seems to come at once. It doesn't help that I didn't feel that I did very well on the first two- it discourages me for the rest. But, it is two am and I feel confident about tomorrow's economics test and so I'm about to go to bed.
However, one more thing: It seems that along with two very dominant factors in my life (roommates and school), there is a third set of things that are contributing to a huge degree of emotional, physical and ideological variety from one intense twenty seconds to the next. Ranging from work issues, to friends with need for support, to lack of food, to theological questions, there are new things all the time that kick the crazyness of this week up a notch.
As I read this post over, I realize that the issues and feelings of this week are so standard and generic. I could have perhaps just written down "when it rains it pours" and saved myself ten minutes. But, I think the thing that makes weeks like these interesting, the thing that I struggle to get down on paper, are the interactions between each of the factors. Why are the good times versus bad times proportioned the way they are? Why is it that I am cycling so quickly through each of the emotions, ideas and feelings? How can the feelings, so intense for twenty seconds, be so knocked out and discarded for the next twenty seconds? And why do those seemingly knocked out and discarded feelings come back, in slightly different form, so formidably 2013 seconds later? When will I learn the lesson that this week is so obviously trying to teach me?
Thank you so much to everyone who's contributed to the mayhem of this week (Mel, Kate and Saniye for house time; mum for thinking it's okay that I don't call; Phil for new friendship; Jen, Mike and Matt for the prospect of partying; and Grant for still thinking)
I've had two midterms so far this week, and have two more to go. It's been difficult because I've had to catch up on a lot of stuff because I got behind last week as I had three large assignments due. The only problem with an interdisciplinary program in which I am taking courses in first, second and third year, is that everything seems to come at once. It doesn't help that I didn't feel that I did very well on the first two- it discourages me for the rest. But, it is two am and I feel confident about tomorrow's economics test and so I'm about to go to bed.
However, one more thing: It seems that along with two very dominant factors in my life (roommates and school), there is a third set of things that are contributing to a huge degree of emotional, physical and ideological variety from one intense twenty seconds to the next. Ranging from work issues, to friends with need for support, to lack of food, to theological questions, there are new things all the time that kick the crazyness of this week up a notch.
As I read this post over, I realize that the issues and feelings of this week are so standard and generic. I could have perhaps just written down "when it rains it pours" and saved myself ten minutes. But, I think the thing that makes weeks like these interesting, the thing that I struggle to get down on paper, are the interactions between each of the factors. Why are the good times versus bad times proportioned the way they are? Why is it that I am cycling so quickly through each of the emotions, ideas and feelings? How can the feelings, so intense for twenty seconds, be so knocked out and discarded for the next twenty seconds? And why do those seemingly knocked out and discarded feelings come back, in slightly different form, so formidably 2013 seconds later? When will I learn the lesson that this week is so obviously trying to teach me?
Thank you so much to everyone who's contributed to the mayhem of this week (Mel, Kate and Saniye for house time; mum for thinking it's okay that I don't call; Phil for new friendship; Jen, Mike and Matt for the prospect of partying; and Grant for still thinking)
10.21.2003
AHHHHHHHH!
Fucking ratbastard of a motherfucking telemarketing group. FREAK! Last week I started my career as a sleezy telemarketer. It was worse than I ever imagined. I was selling "last resort" credit cards to people who had no chance in hell of ever being approved for one at a bank. As a "credit restoration company" we sold 2500$ monthly credit for a onetime only fee of $249. Most of these people didn't even have that much money in their bank, even though they desperatly wanted the credit card. Our selling point was trying to get them to borrow it from a family member or thier boss. When I asked my boss how many of our customers succeeded in improving their credit, he said about 10 percent. The rest go into greater debt, thanks mostly for the cash advance feature which lets them take out 500$ cash a day on credit. Five days later, they have no way to pay of the credit and spend the rest of their lives in debt. I worked there for three days, making a total of two sales, and was asked to come back and work for them. Today I quit in part because of my new deli job, and in part because of the morality (lack thereof) at SNS. The part where the fuckingratbastard sentiment comes in is that because I quit, I don't get paid for the days I was there. That's more than a hundred dollars, but more importantly 12 hours of misery and angst that I went through! I want that money! And so, I am pissed off.
10.17.2003
Order 1017: A deli-sized portion of adventure
A couple of notes on a good day. It's sort of silly to write this in such a disjointed way as a list (much as I am a fan of them), as all the factors combined significantly to create a good day, but alas, I can come up with no sufficiently easy but better way.
Transit in the Morning
Since arriving in Toronto, I haven't woken up before 8:45am. It aggravates me that I sleep in both because it wastes the day, and because obviously I'm lacking some life interest if I feel better in bed than I do up and about. Today I was out of bed by 6:20, and on the bus by 7, on my way to an unknown section of this gigantic city to recommence my career as a deli girl. I planned to read on the bus, but I ended up just smiling out the window, happy to be on a bus, on a clear cold day, with a bus driver that said thank you and have a nice day over the microphone at every stop.
Reesor's Deli
After an hour bus ride, a ten minute subway trip, and at $10 cab bill, I found myself once more standing behind a meat slicer, totally in charge of it's on and off button and the thickness of the slice. Perhaps I've got deli in my blood, or perhaps my enjoyment of the deli trade has become more profound in the face of telemarketing, but I spent a truly happy day learning the ins and outs of a new delicatessen. On the satisfaction checklist, coworkers, general atmosphere, and assigned tasks all rate an overwhelming GOOD on my scoreboard. Thank god for smoked, spiced, and sliced.
Special Mention
Phil was a sideline-but-significant part of my deli day. He's my new friend (fabulous fabulous fabulous...that I can call someone here a friend and really mean it) from Political Analysis who discovered my love for delis and arranged for my current employment. He also works at the Farmer's Market, but on the "chicken side". We didn't interact much, but it was as if he watched over me the whole day to make sure that I was happy and delicious (get it? deli-licious!!! Oh the deli humour!), as if I was a special guest to his work, not a new employee.
Next Stop
I left my new place o' biz and trekked southbound on Yonge (did you know yonge is the longest street in the world? It goes nearly all the way from Lake Ontario to Thunder Bay in Northern Ontario. Thanks Sonia and Walter at the fruit stand for that tidbit). In the subway once again, I lost myself in the clatter of Friday rush hour for a minute before emerging into the city once again in GreekTown. I have a couple of friends (that word once again!) that live there, in the Danforth...east Toronto. It's my prospective neighborhood due to the nice mix of fancy houses, apartments above stores, huge Greek churches, accessible subway stations, central location, bars, restaurants...and that one place with the really nice earrings. It was there that I had arranged to meet Ina, my Latvian friend who shares a midterm with me tomorrow. Starbucks, studying and spilling before Thai food and diagrammatic discoveries of life. This Ina is good to chat to because she draws things out on a piece of looseleaf; like lists but more dynamic.
Toque and Gloves
Back on the subway for the final time tonight, I had an epiphany about unfair terms of trade. I won't get into it, suffice to say I think it'll come in useful on my exam tomorrow.
In the last cold minutes before I reached my house, I was alone and alive for a few minutes longer, facing the return to my life sucking and oppressive house. I had time to do a twenty second emotional recap of the day: the twenty seconds was, while not a bursting feeling, a noteworthy sensation of happiness, leaving me to conclude that, against all odds (Scarborough odds) I have had a wonderful day.
Transit in the Morning
Since arriving in Toronto, I haven't woken up before 8:45am. It aggravates me that I sleep in both because it wastes the day, and because obviously I'm lacking some life interest if I feel better in bed than I do up and about. Today I was out of bed by 6:20, and on the bus by 7, on my way to an unknown section of this gigantic city to recommence my career as a deli girl. I planned to read on the bus, but I ended up just smiling out the window, happy to be on a bus, on a clear cold day, with a bus driver that said thank you and have a nice day over the microphone at every stop.
Reesor's Deli
After an hour bus ride, a ten minute subway trip, and at $10 cab bill, I found myself once more standing behind a meat slicer, totally in charge of it's on and off button and the thickness of the slice. Perhaps I've got deli in my blood, or perhaps my enjoyment of the deli trade has become more profound in the face of telemarketing, but I spent a truly happy day learning the ins and outs of a new delicatessen. On the satisfaction checklist, coworkers, general atmosphere, and assigned tasks all rate an overwhelming GOOD on my scoreboard. Thank god for smoked, spiced, and sliced.
Special Mention
Phil was a sideline-but-significant part of my deli day. He's my new friend (fabulous fabulous fabulous...that I can call someone here a friend and really mean it) from Political Analysis who discovered my love for delis and arranged for my current employment. He also works at the Farmer's Market, but on the "chicken side". We didn't interact much, but it was as if he watched over me the whole day to make sure that I was happy and delicious (get it? deli-licious!!! Oh the deli humour!), as if I was a special guest to his work, not a new employee.
Next Stop
I left my new place o' biz and trekked southbound on Yonge (did you know yonge is the longest street in the world? It goes nearly all the way from Lake Ontario to Thunder Bay in Northern Ontario. Thanks Sonia and Walter at the fruit stand for that tidbit). In the subway once again, I lost myself in the clatter of Friday rush hour for a minute before emerging into the city once again in GreekTown. I have a couple of friends (that word once again!) that live there, in the Danforth...east Toronto. It's my prospective neighborhood due to the nice mix of fancy houses, apartments above stores, huge Greek churches, accessible subway stations, central location, bars, restaurants...and that one place with the really nice earrings. It was there that I had arranged to meet Ina, my Latvian friend who shares a midterm with me tomorrow. Starbucks, studying and spilling before Thai food and diagrammatic discoveries of life. This Ina is good to chat to because she draws things out on a piece of looseleaf; like lists but more dynamic.
Toque and Gloves
Back on the subway for the final time tonight, I had an epiphany about unfair terms of trade. I won't get into it, suffice to say I think it'll come in useful on my exam tomorrow.
In the last cold minutes before I reached my house, I was alone and alive for a few minutes longer, facing the return to my life sucking and oppressive house. I had time to do a twenty second emotional recap of the day: the twenty seconds was, while not a bursting feeling, a noteworthy sensation of happiness, leaving me to conclude that, against all odds (Scarborough odds) I have had a wonderful day.
10.16.2003
Listing=Living
In Economics today I sat down and wrote a list. Three in fact. One was how to get from my house to my new deli job that I start on Friday. The next was planned christmas gifts for both Victoria and UTSC people. The third was the study/work/play breakdown of the upcoming weekend. Some of you that know me will realize the significance of making these lists, for others, let me enlighten you: I am a list maker. I feel most comfortable and most enthusiastic when my life is planned via an assortment of lists (a trait "inherited" from my list obsessed dad). The reason why it becomes significant now is that I haven't written a list since I left for Toronto almost a month and a half ago. The fact that I've started listing again means that the centeredness I was missing is coming back. Some would think that making lists would increase my centeredness, but for some reason I can't make serious lists unless I've already got some concrete format to my life.
Kate is listing=Kate is living.
Kate is listing=Kate is living.
10.14.2003
AVB
Saw Armin Van Buuren (please read in a cheesy annoucer's voice) at the Guvernment this weekend. A+. All I need now is Tiesto, and Toronto will be complete. In a very Kate version of Thanksgiving, I counted my blessings to a 4/4 beat. As usual, the adventures were epic. Thank you to Mike and UK Matt for making my night.
It's strange to party in a new town. To some degree it's exactly the same, but at the same time very very different. Probably the most significant is the difference in people. On the Island we wear our sweats, meet tons of new people each time, and rotate between tents, stages and woods. In Holland, it seems as if everyone is there for one reason and one reason only: the music. It controls and sucks everyone in. Here in Toronto, we entered the club with the bar stars and wondered for a while if the atmosphere would change from bar to party or not. But, in the end, just as at every party, everywhere, you dance your heart out and smile with your whole body. You feel the perfect mix of unfulfilled satisfaction.
It's strange to party in a new town. To some degree it's exactly the same, but at the same time very very different. Probably the most significant is the difference in people. On the Island we wear our sweats, meet tons of new people each time, and rotate between tents, stages and woods. In Holland, it seems as if everyone is there for one reason and one reason only: the music. It controls and sucks everyone in. Here in Toronto, we entered the club with the bar stars and wondered for a while if the atmosphere would change from bar to party or not. But, in the end, just as at every party, everywhere, you dance your heart out and smile with your whole body. You feel the perfect mix of unfulfilled satisfaction.
10.10.2003
Up In My Room
This is the view from my window, the one that won't open, the one with curtains with cigarette burns...nice eh? I like that some of them are turning nice colours and the others aren't. Is it like tree puberty, they all go through it in different stages? Funny, they're quite thin, but I think they're still fairly old. What's with that???
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