Although there seems to be an enormous amount of attitude in the city these days, I must admit that it's a happy time of year. Sunshine, birds, breeze, spring jackets, knee socks, little flats, windows open, paintings drying on my table in the cool air, the cat's little nose twitching at all the new smells from outside, the sound of the blinds hitting the window frame. The snow has melted, the shadows have formed, the world has slowed down; closer to that warm air lethargy.
But though I have positive thoughts through this change of season, there is still a plague abound out there. People don't seem to treat people like people anymore. Before you yell at me for causing you to have to slow your car at the crosswalk, remember that I am someone's daughter, not unlike your own. If I upset you because you think my bicycle is too close to your streetcar, is it really necessary to scream at me through the doors, in front of all your passengers? Is my bright red coat not enough for you to see me when I walk down the street? I don't appreciate your elbows nailing me in the rib when I pass you and your whole gaggle of squealing friends.
Honestly, sometimes its enough to drive me out of this city I love. I do love this city, but my brain and my mind are unhealthy here. I do love that I'm free to do as I please, but it's work. I want to build a cabin in the middle of a park (a park that you do not have to "use at your own risk") Seriously WTF this drives me mad...
No, I'd like to live in a cabin on the edge of a vibrant town, on the edge of a sunfilled cliffside, where people are truly welcoming, and can let go and party until dawn under the stars. I'll move into Orfeo's home in Rio de Janeiro (minus the infidelity and death)
The other day, a strange stranger appeared in the halls at work. He came with a giant beard and many questions about our culture. He wanted to know why we are forced to honour certain people, and make them feel special and loved, after they call our hard work "retarded".
He also wondered why the word "we" is used in such "royal" terms, and used so frequently, to disguise the fact that we were being told to do something. He wondered why someone would come to him, and ask him directly "do we have to go to the washroom?".
Did I ever mention how much work colleague parties can stress me out? Well, there are those kind of parties yes (the ones that happen after work, at a bar or at someone's house), but there are also the "at work" "parties" (separated by two sets of quotes on purpose) The kind where you all gather in the boardroom which is decorated with streamers, easy listening Christmas carols playing on a little CD player, and make small talk while balancing your paper plate, plastic cutlery, napkin and plastic cup filled (FILLED) with wine. Oh look! I'm the only one with a cup of wine because I'm surrounded by pregnant ladies. Is pregnancy catching? Will I emerge from said function with a giant pregnant belly? Sproing! Oops would ya look at that!
The following picture has nothing to do with pregnancy:
I am taking a baking class at George Brown, which is almost finished (one class left). I have made many masterpieces...all WITH NOSE RING IN MY NOSE!!! I have received some grief from the chef about my piercing. Apparently facial piercings are not allowed in a professional kitchen, and they are not part of the chef uniform (I have to wear a uniform, complete with chef hat) After a few passive aggressive reminders from the chef that facial piercings must be either taken out, or covered up (I will not take mine out, end of discussion) I stuck a band-aid on my nose for a class. As if I'm not already one of the biggest nerd-losers on the planet...I was then just a big nerd-loser with a band-aid on my face!! Anyway, it didn't seem to be a problem that everyone else in the class was wearing hoop earrings, watches, rings etc. So the nose ring prevailed. No. More. Band-aid. Face.
I have an accordion. I happened to mention the other day that I wanted an accordion (for reasons unknown even to me) and a colleague said he just happened to have one in his pile o' junk in the basement. So, lo and behold: accordion. I carried it home on the subway and got ridiculous looks and comments from all the strangers. Yeah ok, so I have an accordion!! That does not give you free reign to sling insults in my direction!!!*
*ok, maybe it does
Feel better Jerry. You are the most wonderful, whimsical person filled with awesome weirdness that I know. You one of my very best friends. You have been there for me through everything (my shy, my sad, my crazy, my kryztee) I am not good at dealing with people's sorrows, I never know what to say. But just know that I care, I feel all, and I am sad too because I can feel your sad.
I leave you with kittens.