Today's Soundtrack: brave or blinded, not sure which am I
For the past five, give or take, six years, I’ve been reading this guy’s journal. I don’t know him, and I doubt my universe will ever meet his; but his fears, his perceived inadequacies are all too familiar to me.
He’s an off-and-on freelance writer who developed a strong readership with his
relationship column for men on A-avenue. These loyal souls surf on to his livejournal very often and leave comments and their two cents regularly. Some even financed his trip to B.C.; his end of the bargain was to capture what he saw in megapixels and to transcribe the ins-and-outs of his trip on his journal. Needless to say, he didn’t disappoint.
His journal provides me with a daily dose of escapism. I love seeing New York with his words. Its crowded streets, the dirty subway trains with routes named after numbers and letters, but most of all the characters in his own world, with their own colours, shapes and idiosyncrasies. Even though I’m a regular visitor of the Big Apple, sometimes I can’t help but think that my love affair with the city started with his entries.
Some days I wish I knew the guy, maybe I could drop him an e-mail to encourage him to finish that book. Every writer has *that* book, the one that you’ve been slaving over since you were a teenager, the same one that you want to transform into a short story so you can live to see it in print. Yes, that one. The very same one that some are afraid to finish in the fear that it might actually suck. Mine is written on scattered pages of numerous spiraled notebooks buried in boxes stored in my closet. Some parts come out in my scribbled poetry on scrap paper I seem to dig up everytime I clean my drawers. I wish he could learn what I'm trying to learn. I wish I could tell him that even if his dream flops at some best-sellers list, the satisfaction that he would get at finishing and sharing his written work will surpass any “failure” measured by dollars and cents.
Tuesday, May 10, 2005
Wednesday, April 20, 2005
Starry-eyed in Spring
Yesterday Summer invaded this city, a crazy 27 degree high in the middle of April! Today, grey is the colour of everything outside my window, the rain persistent at staking its claim to this season. You gotta love the weather in Ontario.
My world is full of surprises - a month ago I whined about failing every job interview thrown my way, today I'm working in the comfort of home in my pajamas. Ok fine, I'm in jogging pants but you get the idea.
Don't you hate writing pretend-dialogue on your blog? Writers hope they're being witty and funny, but really it's no different from watching a crazy person talk to himself across the street.
Yesterday I heard from a friend that a favourite local gem is packing it up to make his way back to his home in Winnipeg, after his 2-years of singing his heart out in closet-sized cafes of Toronto. No one can say he didn't give it a shot. I wonder how many starry-eyed dreamers go back home every day, their hands up in the air, forced to call their passion a hobby. You have to bleed a good deal before you can live off of what you love, and only a few are willing to make that sacrifice. Even then, luck and good fortune play a big part.
When we were younger, we were told to go after our dreams. No matter what hindrances come along the way, if we want something bad enough, we should just go for it. As adults, we're ridiculed for even thinking this way. We're told to plant our feet on the ground and be practical. I just think there's a middle ground. In between deadlines and demands, we should still do the things that make us feel alive. Even if it means getting laughed at once in a while.
My world is full of surprises - a month ago I whined about failing every job interview thrown my way, today I'm working in the comfort of home in my pajamas. Ok fine, I'm in jogging pants but you get the idea.
Don't you hate writing pretend-dialogue on your blog? Writers hope they're being witty and funny, but really it's no different from watching a crazy person talk to himself across the street.
Yesterday I heard from a friend that a favourite local gem is packing it up to make his way back to his home in Winnipeg, after his 2-years of singing his heart out in closet-sized cafes of Toronto. No one can say he didn't give it a shot. I wonder how many starry-eyed dreamers go back home every day, their hands up in the air, forced to call their passion a hobby. You have to bleed a good deal before you can live off of what you love, and only a few are willing to make that sacrifice. Even then, luck and good fortune play a big part.
When we were younger, we were told to go after our dreams. No matter what hindrances come along the way, if we want something bad enough, we should just go for it. As adults, we're ridiculed for even thinking this way. We're told to plant our feet on the ground and be practical. I just think there's a middle ground. In between deadlines and demands, we should still do the things that make us feel alive. Even if it means getting laughed at once in a while.
Monday, March 14, 2005
Winter Blues
Today's Soundtrack: It's a silly time to learn to swim, when you start to drown
I like to drink hot water with floating tea leaves. Green tea leaves, to be exact.
It’s my new thing. Right after a meal, I boil some water and sprinkle some green tea leaves on there. My brand boasts that it’s the best ‘green tea in the world’. Since I only have the powdered green tea at the sushi restaurants to compare it to, I’d say it’s pretty good.
It’s already March, but the snow is still a constant visitor and this weekend, I started hating it. If I see white flakes covering my driveway again, I’m going to scream. I can’t take it, my back can’t take it, and my car’s about to die from it! I love it when the weather changes, and usually welcome the first snow-fall with open arms, but after months of snow build-up, I'm ready for spring. I can't wait for t-shirt weather.
So it’s three months into 2005, and I’m still job hunting. The part-time gig at the insurance company is not that bad; I get to work in a loft-style office, come in when I want to and the people are friendly enough. This other girl I work with, the other part-timer, is actually quieter than myself, she loves to write but more non-fiction, scientific stuff. She confessed to me last week that she’s a lead guitarist for a popular heavy metal band in the city. Pretty crazy. After seeing her promo shots on her band websites, I just can’t look at her the same way! She wants me to check out one of their shows, but I had to confess that my music preference revolves around the lo-fi stuff: indie pop, rock, soul etc. She says it’ll be a growing experience for me. LOL.
Anyway, about the job hunt, pretty soon, I’m going to need some savings, and a part-time job won’t give me that. I feel like I should be an expert in the art of the Interview by now, but unfortunately, I just don’t excel in that area. I try to be as bubbly as I can, sell my skill set with a smile and a high-pitch voice (I know what you're thinking, "Michelle's voice? high-pitch? Git outta here!) but it’s hard to remain excited when the interviewer’s a flake and the job just doesn’t interest me. What I would really like is an employer that I can say, listen man, I just need a full-time job for a year, so I can save up some money and go to school the following year. Think I’ll find a winner?
Up next: a journal entry with meat, I mean a meaty journal entry...ah, you know what I mean. I just want to write something else that doesn't revolve around the weather and finding employment.
I like to drink hot water with floating tea leaves. Green tea leaves, to be exact.
It’s my new thing. Right after a meal, I boil some water and sprinkle some green tea leaves on there. My brand boasts that it’s the best ‘green tea in the world’. Since I only have the powdered green tea at the sushi restaurants to compare it to, I’d say it’s pretty good.
It’s already March, but the snow is still a constant visitor and this weekend, I started hating it. If I see white flakes covering my driveway again, I’m going to scream. I can’t take it, my back can’t take it, and my car’s about to die from it! I love it when the weather changes, and usually welcome the first snow-fall with open arms, but after months of snow build-up, I'm ready for spring. I can't wait for t-shirt weather.
So it’s three months into 2005, and I’m still job hunting. The part-time gig at the insurance company is not that bad; I get to work in a loft-style office, come in when I want to and the people are friendly enough. This other girl I work with, the other part-timer, is actually quieter than myself, she loves to write but more non-fiction, scientific stuff. She confessed to me last week that she’s a lead guitarist for a popular heavy metal band in the city. Pretty crazy. After seeing her promo shots on her band websites, I just can’t look at her the same way! She wants me to check out one of their shows, but I had to confess that my music preference revolves around the lo-fi stuff: indie pop, rock, soul etc. She says it’ll be a growing experience for me. LOL.
Anyway, about the job hunt, pretty soon, I’m going to need some savings, and a part-time job won’t give me that. I feel like I should be an expert in the art of the Interview by now, but unfortunately, I just don’t excel in that area. I try to be as bubbly as I can, sell my skill set with a smile and a high-pitch voice (I know what you're thinking, "Michelle's voice? high-pitch? Git outta here!) but it’s hard to remain excited when the interviewer’s a flake and the job just doesn’t interest me. What I would really like is an employer that I can say, listen man, I just need a full-time job for a year, so I can save up some money and go to school the following year. Think I’ll find a winner?
Up next: a journal entry with meat, I mean a meaty journal entry...ah, you know what I mean. I just want to write something else that doesn't revolve around the weather and finding employment.
Thursday, February 10, 2005
Some aimless whining...
Today’s Soundtrack: hundreds of miles/yeah, you cry like a baby…
Today I woke up with a to-do list in mind. Nothing special, just your average to-do list of a person trying to keep busy while she’s unemployed. There’s this essay I have to write, laundry that needs to be done, bills to be paid over the phone, and a million job postings to apply for. I’m exaggerating - the job postings are close to ten but after this dry spell I’ve been experiencing for weeks ten feels like a million. I only had four hours before I hightail it to the west end of trhe city. I have school tonight and I prefer to leave before afternoon rush invades the city streets. Like all good unfocused individuals, I got sidetracked. Season 1 DVD of Alias looked too good to pass up, and since we just revived our cable subscription I can’t stop watching useless TV.
I manage to get out of the house before 4 o’clock, I see the snow on my car and realize the drive might take longer than expected. On a good day, I can get to YorkU in 20 minutes; that’s without the traffic and without the snow. Since we’ve had promising spring-like weather for the past couple of days, I’m almost certain drivers will treat this like the first day of winter.
It takes me an hour to drive down, I arrive at my favourite Tim Horton’s right by my school and decide to work on that essay. Since I have absolutely nothing to do these days, I find it hard to prioritize my tasks. I keep postponing chores like these because I know I'll have lots of time. It’s too bad I’m becoming an expert in time-suckage.
I decide to stop working right before 6pm. I know of only one quasi-free parking lot at my school and after 6pm the night students become vultures of parking spots. I get in my car and my phone rings. My sister’s laughing on the other end. When I ask her why she called, she tells me my class is cancelled because my prof is sick. And won’t I have a great night off and an even better reading week?! Of course, that’s not the worst part. I get to spend another hour driving home in rush-hour traffic, and waste more gas I can hardly afford.
Today I woke up with a to-do list in mind. Nothing special, just your average to-do list of a person trying to keep busy while she’s unemployed. There’s this essay I have to write, laundry that needs to be done, bills to be paid over the phone, and a million job postings to apply for. I’m exaggerating - the job postings are close to ten but after this dry spell I’ve been experiencing for weeks ten feels like a million. I only had four hours before I hightail it to the west end of trhe city. I have school tonight and I prefer to leave before afternoon rush invades the city streets. Like all good unfocused individuals, I got sidetracked. Season 1 DVD of Alias looked too good to pass up, and since we just revived our cable subscription I can’t stop watching useless TV.
I manage to get out of the house before 4 o’clock, I see the snow on my car and realize the drive might take longer than expected. On a good day, I can get to YorkU in 20 minutes; that’s without the traffic and without the snow. Since we’ve had promising spring-like weather for the past couple of days, I’m almost certain drivers will treat this like the first day of winter.
It takes me an hour to drive down, I arrive at my favourite Tim Horton’s right by my school and decide to work on that essay. Since I have absolutely nothing to do these days, I find it hard to prioritize my tasks. I keep postponing chores like these because I know I'll have lots of time. It’s too bad I’m becoming an expert in time-suckage.
I decide to stop working right before 6pm. I know of only one quasi-free parking lot at my school and after 6pm the night students become vultures of parking spots. I get in my car and my phone rings. My sister’s laughing on the other end. When I ask her why she called, she tells me my class is cancelled because my prof is sick. And won’t I have a great night off and an even better reading week?! Of course, that’s not the worst part. I get to spend another hour driving home in rush-hour traffic, and waste more gas I can hardly afford.
Thursday, February 03, 2005
Haiku Tunnel
Today’s Soundtrack: this very secret that you try to conceal/ it’s the very same one that you’re trying to reveal.
Yesterday I sat in a neutral-coloured cubicle, half gray, half beige; as neutral as you can get. I answered calls for an insurance company, took down orders of cancellation and got yelled at for 8 hours. It’s my first assignment at the temp agency, I would’ve been back there again today if it wasn’t for this damn cold/sore throat/fever. I hate office work just as much as the next guy but when money’s tight, you gotta do what you gotta do.
So I received calls nation-wide, some only had box numbers as addresses; it was box address, town name and then the province. I asked a few of those for their street name, and they just laughed at me. I even got a few from Medicine Hat, Alberta and Moosejaw, Saskatchewan. Now I could be wrong, but aren’t those the hometowns of both Kalan and Theresa, of the Canadian Idol fame? LOL.
Anyway, it wasn’t surprising that the most irate customers were the ones from the GTA. This lady yelled at the top of her lungs because I asked her too spell out her name. She said I was wasting her time. When I asked her for her address and discovered that she was from my ‘hood, I just shook my head and laughed. Malvern houses the feistiest (sp?) people in the city.
In other news, I’m addicted to Let it Die by Feist. It’s such a great cd, complete with a cover from Ron Sexsmith (who, according to Sarah McLachlan, is the songwriter’s songwriter). When I listen to Feist, I can close my eyes and see Paris. Give it a try and you’ll see what I mean.
I promised a friend I’d help him plug a Tsunami Benefit show he’s participating in this coming Saturday. Check out this flyer for more info.
Yesterday I sat in a neutral-coloured cubicle, half gray, half beige; as neutral as you can get. I answered calls for an insurance company, took down orders of cancellation and got yelled at for 8 hours. It’s my first assignment at the temp agency, I would’ve been back there again today if it wasn’t for this damn cold/sore throat/fever. I hate office work just as much as the next guy but when money’s tight, you gotta do what you gotta do.
So I received calls nation-wide, some only had box numbers as addresses; it was box address, town name and then the province. I asked a few of those for their street name, and they just laughed at me. I even got a few from Medicine Hat, Alberta and Moosejaw, Saskatchewan. Now I could be wrong, but aren’t those the hometowns of both Kalan and Theresa, of the Canadian Idol fame? LOL.
Anyway, it wasn’t surprising that the most irate customers were the ones from the GTA. This lady yelled at the top of her lungs because I asked her too spell out her name. She said I was wasting her time. When I asked her for her address and discovered that she was from my ‘hood, I just shook my head and laughed. Malvern houses the feistiest (sp?) people in the city.
In other news, I’m addicted to Let it Die by Feist. It’s such a great cd, complete with a cover from Ron Sexsmith (who, according to Sarah McLachlan, is the songwriter’s songwriter). When I listen to Feist, I can close my eyes and see Paris. Give it a try and you’ll see what I mean.
I promised a friend I’d help him plug a Tsunami Benefit show he’s participating in this coming Saturday. Check out this flyer for more info.
Wednesday, January 19, 2005
Songs of Love and Death
Indie super-hero has done it again, she’s managed to wow me with her skill of redefining the cover song. I know I’ve said this already but if your lovely ears haven’t listened to Emm’s latest Irish covers album yet, they’re missing out, I tell ya.
Irish tunes, insomnia and writer's block.
Today's Soundtrack: we love you, now go home.
Get out those gift certificates, head out to your favourite local music store and purchase Emm Gryner’s latest effort, Songs of Love and Death. This is Irish covers at its best!
Winter temperature’s been plummetting, and so are my journal entries. I’m still getting used to the idea that a whole lot of strangers may be reading this “journal” of mine. But I’m trying to get over myself and remember that “I’m not that important” as a fellow blogger once told me.
So I have insomnia. What can I expect after developing such irregular sleeping patterns over the holidays? I’ve been keeping myself occupied with French films, Stephen King novels, and countless Friends episodes. No writing in my notebook, I’m afraid. I gave it a try a couple of times, but nothing sincere is coming out. I keep telling myself that the best thing in the world is to write badly for a while until the good stuff makes an appearance. I’ve been telling myself this since July.
If anyone’s got a surefire way to get rid of this writer’s block, let me know; I’m all ears.
Get out those gift certificates, head out to your favourite local music store and purchase Emm Gryner’s latest effort, Songs of Love and Death. This is Irish covers at its best!
Winter temperature’s been plummetting, and so are my journal entries. I’m still getting used to the idea that a whole lot of strangers may be reading this “journal” of mine. But I’m trying to get over myself and remember that “I’m not that important” as a fellow blogger once told me.
So I have insomnia. What can I expect after developing such irregular sleeping patterns over the holidays? I’ve been keeping myself occupied with French films, Stephen King novels, and countless Friends episodes. No writing in my notebook, I’m afraid. I gave it a try a couple of times, but nothing sincere is coming out. I keep telling myself that the best thing in the world is to write badly for a while until the good stuff makes an appearance. I’ve been telling myself this since July.
If anyone’s got a surefire way to get rid of this writer’s block, let me know; I’m all ears.
Wednesday, January 05, 2005
Hating the familiar
constructing art
Today's Soundtrack: don't just fill my head with nothin'
I don't know what I was expecting from my first run-in with the GO Bus schedule this semester. It's my first day back at YorkU and my favourite prof just let us out at 8:15pm. Of course with my luck, the next GO Bus on my route comes at 8:20. I made a run for it, *hoping* that maybe, just maybe, the driver might decide to wait a bit before leaving. I thought he would want to grab a bite to eat before high-tailing it to the east end. That makes sense, I could think of a hundred instances where I was waiting for that bus home way past it's usual departure time because mr. driver decided to grab a snack on the other end of the campus. But not tonight. Tonight, probably one of the only nights that I'm rewarded with an early dismissal, he decides to drive away just when I step out of the doors of Vari Hall.
Super-star Prof never ceases to amaze me. Not only does he quote Yeats at the drop of a dime, he feels the same type of loathing that I feel about T.S. Eliot. He's probably the only prof I ever had that said "Screw the Critics!" and encouraged his students to think for themselves. I'm not saying he's an easy prof to have, I'm not saying that at all. He expects the best, but your own best. I'm not sure how I feel about 17th C. Poetry, the only writers I actually liked were Donne, Cavendish and Milton. This is just another course to fill my requirements for graduation and what best way to spend the next couple of Monday and Wednesday nights but to spend it reading poetry?
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