Stop growing on me.
I already have one of those memories where you giggle to yourself uncontrollably for ten minutes everytime it pops into your head.
Stop growing on me. Please.
Sunday, December 25, 2011
Monday, November 7, 2011
Toronto
Toronto, I gave you a chance. Even though in my mind I was dead set on leaving after a few years. I wanted to be open to anything you could have offered me.
But little by little, events through the interactions of some of your residents, til I couldn't deny it any longer, til I stopped making up excuses for you, convinced me that you will never have a place in my heart.
I left Montréal because I felt like my brain was going to die before my body. It probably would have; everything felt like a dead-end: my relationship, my work. I wanted to learn from lots of talented people, and I didn't want to depend on someone else to be happy. I wanted to be happy before we could be happy.
Now I have it all, but why am I not happy still? Beause Toronto, you're beautiful, but you're also filled with a lot of ugly people. A lot of unhappy people. A lot of tired and stressed people. And people whose eyes have had their luster taken from people whose eyes have had their luster taken from people whose eyes have had their luster taken. I don't blame them; it's marginally harder to stay happy in this city without buying stupid expensive things. Maybe it's harder to stay happy without lashing out at someone once in a while, who knows. But now I realize I only the time and heart for people who have the time and heart for kindness, smiles, positivity, coffee with 10% cream, honesty.
I don't regret coming here; I needed this. But maybe third time's the charm? It worked for Goldilocks.
But little by little, events through the interactions of some of your residents, til I couldn't deny it any longer, til I stopped making up excuses for you, convinced me that you will never have a place in my heart.
I left Montréal because I felt like my brain was going to die before my body. It probably would have; everything felt like a dead-end: my relationship, my work. I wanted to learn from lots of talented people, and I didn't want to depend on someone else to be happy. I wanted to be happy before we could be happy.
Now I have it all, but why am I not happy still? Beause Toronto, you're beautiful, but you're also filled with a lot of ugly people. A lot of unhappy people. A lot of tired and stressed people. And people whose eyes have had their luster taken from people whose eyes have had their luster taken from people whose eyes have had their luster taken. I don't blame them; it's marginally harder to stay happy in this city without buying stupid expensive things. Maybe it's harder to stay happy without lashing out at someone once in a while, who knows. But now I realize I only the time and heart for people who have the time and heart for kindness, smiles, positivity, coffee with 10% cream, honesty.
I don't regret coming here; I needed this. But maybe third time's the charm? It worked for Goldilocks.
Saturday, October 15, 2011
Friday, September 23, 2011
Monday, September 19, 2011
Do you think the secret to success is failure?
Do you think the secret to success is failure?
Sometimes when we used to talk about our university, we'd begin with incredibly funny moments we all were a part of at some point or another. But then we'd ultimately start trading or retelling horror stories. Stories about peers who retook courses so many times no one else had an accurate count anymore, stories about our own failures, stories at great length about how evil and unreasonable faculty professors could be. Stories about this one teacher who would command his silence by saying "Shut the fuck up or I will fail you all.".
Then some of us would say (because it was true): oh, how I hated university because I studied so much and never had a life, or how the education system sucks! How are these profs employed?? What the hell am I paying for?
I remember coming home, knowing full well that I had failed an exam, sitting on my bed and just bursting into tears. I tried so hard, but why couldn't I pass? Is that what I'm being taught? To fail?
Today (so it took me a while) I learned that that was exactly what I needed to learn. University taught me something money can't easily buy: grit. School built my character whether I liked it or not; it taught me to, when down in the dark pit of failure, to pick myself up and crawl out. It shoved me in that hole time and time again to the point I became not only a hardier but smarter individual, and learned to walk around that pit instead of falling in.
And once I wasn't a stranger to failure, I wasn't a stranger to rebounding with a greater tenacity, and then I was introduced to better expectations for myself, and from there, an idea of what success can be like for me.
Sometimes when we used to talk about our university, we'd begin with incredibly funny moments we all were a part of at some point or another. But then we'd ultimately start trading or retelling horror stories. Stories about peers who retook courses so many times no one else had an accurate count anymore, stories about our own failures, stories at great length about how evil and unreasonable faculty professors could be. Stories about this one teacher who would command his silence by saying "Shut the fuck up or I will fail you all.".
Then some of us would say (because it was true): oh, how I hated university because I studied so much and never had a life, or how the education system sucks! How are these profs employed?? What the hell am I paying for?
I remember coming home, knowing full well that I had failed an exam, sitting on my bed and just bursting into tears. I tried so hard, but why couldn't I pass? Is that what I'm being taught? To fail?
Today (so it took me a while) I learned that that was exactly what I needed to learn. University taught me something money can't easily buy: grit. School built my character whether I liked it or not; it taught me to, when down in the dark pit of failure, to pick myself up and crawl out. It shoved me in that hole time and time again to the point I became not only a hardier but smarter individual, and learned to walk around that pit instead of falling in.
And once I wasn't a stranger to failure, I wasn't a stranger to rebounding with a greater tenacity, and then I was introduced to better expectations for myself, and from there, an idea of what success can be like for me.
Wednesday, September 14, 2011
Monday, September 12, 2011
Summer Love Overheated : Junot Diaz
Anyway, something about where we each were in our lives, something about the wildness of our relationship, something about our weakness—-we were kind of trapped in each other. God knows for how long we lingered in our half-lives if not for the shit I’m about to tell you about. I have friends who were in miserable relationships for eight, nine years. I honestly believe we could have been one of them, trapped in “love” like bugs in amber.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)