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Posts from the ‘Personal’ Category

May long weekend at Balsam Lake

Balsam Lake

Balsam Lake

I can’t help but look around this green earth and thank heavens I’m alive. The world is a magnificently beautiful creature, one that demands attention and respect. This weekend we drove to Balsam Lake and spent quality time with the McCallum’s. The weather was excruciatingly beautiful without a cloud in the sky. A couple of mornings I awoke before the rest of the crew and captured some photographs to document the physical evidence of the tremendous radiance of the Balsam landscape. Good company never hurts, so Lisa accompanied us and entertained with her warm sense of humour. With good food, great conversation and amazing temperatures, I can confidently say we all had an experience to remember.

Balsam Lake

6:30 a.m.

Balsam Lake

On the boat house

Balsam Lake

7 a.m.

Balsam Lake

Make a wish!

Balsam Lake

Empty Chairs

Balsam Lake

Dirt road

Balsam Lake

Lisa making veggie burgers!

Balsam Lake

Lisssssaaaaaaa!!!!

Balsam Lake

The gas station and corner store

Balsam Lake

Balsam Lake Provincial Park

Balsam Lake

My shadow

Sun

Sun

The moon over Balsam Lake

The moon over Balsam Lake

The University of Guelph

Johnston Hall

Johnston Hall still stands proud

For reasons unknown to even myself, I’ve been feeling melancholy lately. To lift my spirits and to get out of the house I ventured an hour out of Toronto to the sleepy town of Guelph, Ontario where I went to university. Not even the crisp warm weather could help as I was deflated by nostalgia. So little of the campus has changed in the ten years since I graduated. As I was walking the hallowed grounds I had visions of myself and most of my friends all blurry eyed and stupid from youth, wandering the corridors and creating drama out of the slightest insignificant misunderstandings. Good times.

We’ve come a long way from those humble days, but despite the progress, I couldn’t help but feel a sense of loss. Maybe it’s as cliché as the loss of innocence, I don’t really know. But something about our naiveté, our blatant selfishness and foolish attitudes makes me smile. I’m glad that I’m not a teenager anymore, don’t get me wrong, but I made the best of friends at the University of Guelph, and they remain very dear to me. Now all in our 30s we’re scattered across this great country of ours, but the shared experiences continue to unite us. I think.

Enough of this shameless sentiment. Here are some of the photos I took today.

Johnston Hall

Johnston Hall is a student residence

Horticulture building

The Horticulture building

The Greenhouse

The Greenhouse

Alumni House

Alumni House

The Bullring

The Bullring

War Memorial Hall

War Memorial Hall

Arts House

Arts House where Amy and Raquel lived in their first year of university

Creelman Hall

Creelman Hall

Raithby House

Raithby House

The cannon

The cannon is painted daily. I don’t know why. It’s tradition!

U of G Library

The university library where Alisha, Raquel and I worked for 3 years

I’m ugly

When I was growing up my older brother would consistently tell me that I was ugly and stupid. I now know that I’m beautiful and smart. Fuck him.

My birthday dinner at Ethiopian House

I had an early birthday dinner at Ethiopian House located south of Bloor and west of Yonge. Vegetarian dishes include spicy split peas, chick peas rich in garlic, lentils, crunchy collard greens and smooth-roasted potatoes. It was luscious. The best part is the coffee, which has a preparation time of 30 minutes. Afterwards I went for a beer. And now, I’m ready to fall asleep watching copious amounts of The Golden Girls.

Thanks to my friends who sent well-wishes. Much love to you all.

Here are my birthday flowers, in bold Technicolor!

Ethiopian House
4 Irwin Ave.
Toronto

Today is my birthday

I woke this morning with the words of Sylvia Plath floating in my head. “I may never be happy, but at least, today, I am content.” That sentiment reminded me of Lauren Bacall, who in a recent interview with Vanity Fair asked, “How can any thinking person in this world be happy?” I am abundantly aware of how lucky I am to have the time to think about my own happiness, because throughout the world, famine, disease and war have stripped countless others of a similar privilege.

Every day animals are senselessly slaughtered. Children go hungry. Women are raped. Gay people are killed. I cannot live without recognizing this truth, and by doing so, appreciate the life that I have been blessed with.

Last year I embarked on a quiet, personal, spiritual journey. I gave up my job, vowed never to be tied to the politics of an emotionless, toxic office environment again, and set upon finding my path, and in that journey, found peace within my soul. I stopped chasing impossible expectations; I sat, I listened to my heart, and I lived with passion.

What I learned from all of this self-reflection was not what I need, but to revere what I already have. Love. I have so much love in my life that it would make any man envious. To borrow a line from Marvin’s Room, where a terminally ill Diane Keaton mutters to her sister Meryl Streep, “I have been so lucky to have loved.”

I have been so lucky to have loved. So here it is. I am 33. On we grow.

Shoe fetish and musings about entitlement

Since living in Argentina for seven months I have become accustomed to life without luxury. In fact South America taught me a lot about how blindly North American’s covet possessions to stave off tremendous boredom. It’s not that I wasn’t already aware of that fact, but now that I’m in Toronto I can appreciate more of Argentine culture that I refused to while I was there.

For starters, Torontonians are incredibly stuck up people! I mean it. If I judge by my condo building alone, they are the most uptight people in the world. Relax a little guys, don’t take yourselves so seriously. I recognize now, how wrong it was of me in Buenos Aires to not see the humour when someone made a light joke at my expense. Talk about sensitive! Turn that frown upside down, mister!

To mask our boredom Torontonians participate in a shit load of extra curricular activities, and make trends and fads out of everything, the top on that list would be food, which women seem to almost want to make love to. Growing up Italian and having homemade meals every night, I don’t understand the fascination with food North Americans have, but they are obsessed with the very topic. I’ve tried to play along, and have even posted a few entries on my blog about meals that I’ve made here at home, but I just feel like a tool afterwards. Food doesn’t excite me the way an evening out with friends does.

Torontonians also love clubs. We love to belong to book clubs, baking clubs, cycling clubs, running clubs, you name it, we sign up for them. But they don’t make us any smarter, fitter or friendlier, if you ask me. We just end up acting smug, as though we’re more enlightened for having ripped off another culture for our own entertainment.

North Americans believe that the more they consume the happier they will be, but statistics don’t lie. Happiness indexes universally demonstrate that although we are the wealthiest, we are also the most depressed. When I was in South America some Argentines would ask me why we take so many pills in North America. It was in fact, a good question. They’re more happy and with very little. And then spoiled rotten people like me move there and complain because I have to wait an extra five minutes in line to get a razor. The shame I feel now, is unbelievable.

Torontonians  (I’m sure it can be applied to other parts of North America)  have an unhealthy sense of entitlement. One of the things I hear my friends say often is that they “deserve it.” This is odd to me. They’ll call in sick on a Friday and make an appointment at the spa, justifying their choice with the familiar, “I deserve this.” Everyone deserves to pamper themselves from time to time, I certainly have, but we demand it, shamelessly.

If you ask me the people who “deserve it” are the ones who live and work for very little and struggle to put food on their table to feed their families. The ones who have lived in generational poverty and who have been shunned by society as having less value and worth. Those are the people who deserve it, not a public relations specialist.

Last night I cracked open my closet and with a garbage bag in hand began eliminating items from my wardrobe. For years I have done this; every couple of months I like to give away clothes to Goodwill or some other charitable organization, because there are people who will wear something that I no longer do, and who need them more. I must have had 20 sweaters that I no longer wear just sitting there waiting to be loved. And so, though it was challenging, I filled that garbage bag up to the top and this morning walked over to the Goodwill on Richmond St. E. and gave it away. As soon as I made the decision to donate items that I had, but wasn’t using, I understood how surprisingly painless and freeing downsizing can be.

The hardest part for me are my shoes. I have a shoe fetish, I’m not going to lie. I have downsized and now own 15 pairs, but I need to simplify some more. But even I, despite all my musings in this post, struggle with consumption. What is it about the human species that we draw attachments to material objects so easily? The more we own the more valuable we think we are.

Of course I will have to end this post on the side of being preachy. I apologize, I am not Oprah, I do not pretend to have all the answers at the expense and exploitation of others for my own monetary gain. All I have is a philosophy that I try to remember while navigating through life’s rocky moments. So here it is: Our value is not determined by our occupation, or how much money we make, or how much, and what we own. It is determined by how we treat those who are less fortunate than us, and how we can change the world through selfless acts.

For me, that’s what I aspire to. A job, a car, a home, don’t even come secondary. Humility is the most important characteristic a person can possess.

What’s your duck face like?

A friend of mine loves to take photos of his wife. In these photos she holds a familiar pose: Her hand firmly placed on her hip, her curly brunette hair blowing in the wind, or fan, or whatever. It got me thinking about my own pose, which consists of lips firmly pressed, head tilted and eyes squinting into the glare of the intense flash.

There’s the faux candid photo, the duck face, “the selfy”, the Angelina, and a plethora more of poses we often see in magazines and facebook profile photos the world over that tell our friends and potential lovers we’re beautiful.

Here are a few examples of my staple pose. What’s yours?

We came in 2nd place!

Beer

I think they were serving $6 cosmos, but of course beer was the choice of drink for us!

Gayle’s BFF (that was the name of our team) came in second place during trivia night at Wayla Lounge in Leslieville last night! We lost by only two points, which was disappointing of course, but a stellar showing nonetheless. A group of queens beat us, and considering we were only a team of three, we did a pretty damn good job!

The competition

The competition was still arriving well after 9 p.m.

Texting

This crew spent nearly 30 minutes on their smart phones, without speaking

Look at my crazy eye

Look at my left eye! It looks like it's going to pop out!

Lisa and Franco

Lisa and me

Vodka

Pretty!

Lisa on streetcar

Lisa on the streetcar home

Perfume Genius at The Drake Hotel in Toronto

Lisa, Keith and I went to see Perfume Genius perform at The Drake Hotel on Queen St. West this evening. He has a remarkably soulful voice and is a skilled pianist. We were in heaven.

My work came back from class
With notes attached
Of a place and time
Or how my body kept him up at night

He let me smoke weed in his truck
If I could convince him I loved him enough
Enough, enough, enough, ‘nough

He made me a tape of Joy Division
He told there was a part of him missing
When I was sixteen
He jumped off a building

Mr Petersen
I know you weren’t ready to go
I hope there’s room for you up above
Or down below.

The Beaconsfield view

Before Perfume Genius’ concert this evening Keith and I sat and enjoyed a few beers at The Beaconsfield. I propped my camera by the window and captured a few minutes of life on Queen St. W. Afterwards we met Lisa at The Drake and listened to beautiful music.

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