Street Style 1

Images taken from Jess and downtown Toronto streets

I think fashion saved me. I think art continues to save me today.

I still have some of the first fashion magazines I've ever brought. I think the very first one was the May 2009 copy of Vogue. Quickly though, I became addicted to Nylon Magazine and checked fashion blogs religiously. Fashion but more specifically, personal style became my religion. I watched runway videos from top designers, but it was street style and blogger's personal styles that interested me the most. It's also not that these styles were the same as my own, but it was reading someone based on their clothes and how they held themselves together. Style can be everything.

Fast forward to today, I no longer have ambitions to become a fashion designer but living in Toronto, I'm surrounded by so many unique (and uniform) styles that it's hard not to still love personal styling. I maintain that fashion saved me. Fashion was my gateway to so many different arts, photography and colour or monochromatic schemes. It's everything.

Coffee shops and vanilla skies

Life Updates

1. I started a new job about a month ago. It's part time. I wake up around 5:30AM Monday to Friday. It can get exhausting, but a job is a job is a job. I'm a barista. It's OK. 
2. I was seeing a guy for a bit back in August. We're not seeing each other anymore. Instead, I text one of my best girlfriends every day and I tell her two days ago that she's basically my pseudo-boyfriend. 
3. My student loans officially start requiring repayment on November 30th, 2015.
4. I've almost begun the process to begin applications for graduate programs (and others). Yesterday, I met with an old high school advisor and we talked about school and life. She graduated out of Queen's University too, and she told me that when she first moved to Toronto after her undergraduate degree, she was pretty lonely in the city. Fast forward a couple of years, everyone ended up moving to Toronto. That's my hope too.
5. Two Saturdays ago, I had a job interview. I have a second interview this Friday. 
6. Over the last month or so, I've been to this one sushi shop at Dundas & University far too often. They have this great take-out special. It's $4.99 (excluding tax) for 16 pieces of sushi and a can of pop/water/juice. I think the girls might recognize me. I usually get 16 pieces of spicy salmon sushi and a can of ginger ale. 
7. I haven't been making a lot of art, but I'm picking it back up. I started a new journal and I've done quite a few small watercolours. One hungover Saturday after Halloween, I pack my journal and some pens and go to sketch the skyline at Sunnyside Beach. It was windy, I was all alone, and it was divine.
8. I'm still slowly settling back into my life, back into myself. Things are progressing. 

Behind Closed Doors, Looking Back

Photographer Rob Meyers has a book called Behind Closed Doors that captures "the private homes of 25 of the world's most creative people". Some of these people include Courtney Love, Jeremy Scott, Martha Stewart and Tavi Gevinson. The premise of the project is that Meyers asks people to photograph their home using a disposable camera and then to mail in the results that they liked. This means that they can mail in a single photo or the entire roll, and of course any amount in between.

I bought this book because it was on sale at Urban Outfitters for $5. 

I was out shopping with one of my old roommates when I bought it. My old roommate and I went out for dinner after shopping, and then I ended up at the apartment of the guy I was seeing at the time. He's a photographer - both professionally and I imagine at the very nature of his soul. After explaining the project and flipping through the book, I asked him to take some photos of his apartment. How he saw it, how he wanted to show it. 

Phil's Place, Toronto, August 2014

He lived in this single room in what was a rooming house. It was a small place, but it was good I think. It was in the hub of downtown, close to some notorious bars in Toronto, across the street from old remnants of my childhood. We spent a lot of time in this little place while we were dating.

I've been looking at old photos from the past year. I count a lot of dates; events that I consider to be beginnings and ends that may not matter very much in the grand scheme of things, but I remember regardless. This weekend marks the anniversary of the last time I spent any time with this guy. I ran into him once when I moved back into the city but I haven't seen him since.

There aren't any leftover feelings.

Philip, August 2014

It's weird looking at these photos and remembering. I'm not sure he even lives in this apartment anymore. 

Recently, I've been busy with work and thinking about applying for grad school. I spend quite a bit of time thinking about where I am now versus where I was last fall. It's striking how quickly things change and how we adapt to new changes. I'm not in school anymore, I'm currently working a retail job. I don't see the same friends as often. I'm dating (but not quite - it's nothing serious and sometimes, hardly anything at all). I'm trying to be more responsible in my adult choices. For example, I started the process for repaying my student loans and I'm looking into better banking options. I also try not to go to sleep at 3AM. 

I think I'm finally getting a hang of how to move forward from last fall and being a student. Cheers. 

Throwback Thursday 1

Between Here and There, 2011 

Moleskine 2

March 2015

Accident Prone

I fell.

I slipped down some stairs at my friend's apartment building and got a nasty cut on my right hand and these ugly bruises on my knees. I sat stunned on the ground for a few minutes. These two guys smoking outside kept asking if I was OK. I didn't cry. I picked myself and my bloody knees and hand up, and got my friend who was waiting around the corner to be let in.

We went back upstairs to my friend's apartment. She saw me and joked, "I leave you alone for two minutes."

Such is the life of someone clumsy.

Weekender

I will be visiting Kingston this weekend because my friend Griffin is driving up to see his girlfriend. I will be staying with my friend Sarah. I will be seeing some of my old professors and some old friends and old roommates.

I will be bringing with me: 

• Muji pencil case with one HB pencil, one eraser, one pink highlighter, 4 pens
• Macbook Pro with charger
• iPhone 6 with charger and accessories 
• Kodak disposable camera with flash
• Moleskine journal #5
• Tylenol  
• DivaCup
• Sun screen
• Toiletries
• Batiste dry shampoo
• Pond's make up wipes 
• Makeup bag
• Marc Jacobs wallet
• Undergarments
• Wilfred turtleneck sweater
• Lululemon black Flow bra
• Wilfred grey tank top
• Zara black long sleeve linen shirt  
• BDG green and blue flannel
• Silence + Noise grey tank dress
• Nasty Gal black back cut out bodycon dress
• La Notte "Total Slob" t-shirt
• Silence + Noise camouflage shorts
• Gap denim shorts
• BDG black skinny jeans
• Lululemon leggings
• Wilfred cream blanket scarf
• Zara pleather moto jacket
• Zara 3.5" black heeled booties
• Converse white low sneakers
• Fjallraven Kanken bag
• Small brown side bag 

Part of an ongoing floral series

Watercolour and magazine cut out, May 2015 

Casa, part II

In Memory Of, part II

Yesterday was move in day at Queen's University. Four years ago, my parents drove three hours from Toronto to Kingston to help me do the same day. This September is the first I won't be returning to Queen's. This year is the first year since maybe when I was three years old that I won't be returning to school. It's a strange feeling. I catch myself missing school - and not just seeing my friends, but also the education and learning aspects of it. 

I was going through old photos from my first year. I looked different, we all did. I believed in different things and I made decisions in a different way. I knew less, but maybe in some ways, I also knew more. There was more innocence, more naiveté, and more willingness to do the stupid things that only come from seemingly boundless naiveté. 

My first year at Queen's was marked by my first time living separate from my parents, first time getting drunk, first time puking from drinking so much, first hangover, first binge drinking challenges, first time wandering the streets tipsy and falling with my friends but so happy, first time getting decked out for St. Patrick's, first time day drinking, first time clubbing. It was also marked by my first time pulling an all-nighter to finish papers, my first time drinking energy drinks, my first time falling asleep in lecture halls. It was marked by the first time I stayed up till 3 or 4 in the morning talking to some of my best friends. The first time I woke up for a sunrise, the first time I stayed up all night and saw the sun rise between my books. There were so many other firsts. I probably couldn't pick out all of them. It would take up too much of your time, dear reader.

These last four years have changed who I am indefinitely. Going to Queen's was stepping out of my comfort zone, and it was so entirely worth it. 

If I could tell someone just stepping into their first year, this is what I would say:

Challenge yourself, talk to new people, get drunk, get stupid, get uncomfortable, laugh, go watch the sunrise. Work hard, study, embrace the new concepts you are going to learn, be critical, ask questions, discuss the things you are learning, listen to people talk about things you don't understand, always be curious (about everything), ask questions. Accept education as a gift, accept the new people around you and their curiosity as a gift, accept this part of your life as a gift. Accept change. Have fun. Remember to laugh, but it's OK to cry. 

I'm surprised at how quickly four years have gone by. Some days, I wake up feeling like I am still in the top bunk of my metal frame bunk bed, a little hungover and confused by what happened last night. I swear I can still remember what it was like to be 17 and 18 in my first year of university. I remember the air smacked out of my chest when I drove into the ground for the slip-and-slide during Frosh Olympics. I remember the shaving cream and being told to "sizzle like bacon". I remember the plasticky pizza in Leonard cafeteria and the long line for noodles in Ban Righ cafeteria. I remember sitting in the Victoria Hall common room at 5AM, trying to craft a politics paper. I still remember all of these things as if it was a few days ago, but now I have a BAH in Political Studies with a minor in Philosophy from Queen's University. 

Included in the above are photos from my first year at Queen's University, including pictures with two of my best friends and my orientation ("frosh") group.

Family and Culture

Sometimes I think about my parents and all the things they had to encounter in their lives, and they are only around 50 and 60. I think of my grandmother and all the things she had to encounter in life. My grandmother was so young during the Sino-Japanese War. She doesn’t tell the stories, but I can only imagine the horror and fear she experienced. My parents and grandmother all immigrated from China to Canada. All three had to build their entire lives again in a foreign country with a foreign language and a foreign culture. My parents and grandmother still speak in broken English and they don’t fully understand the culture or customs here. They never will, but they have made it so far in their lives, both physically and figuratively.

Once I was walking down the street and talking to someone, this 30-something Caucasian Canadian male told me that he didn't understand how immigrants could live in a foreign country for decades and pick up so little of the language. I cannot remember what I told him that day. He may be right though. I suppose it is strange to move to a foreign country, be immersed in a different language and culture, yet remain so isolated from it. The short answer is that my parents and grandmother were working and they didn't have time to sit in a classroom and learn the language and the customs.

Talking to different children of immigrants and listening to different stories from popular figures, everyone's story is different. This point is very loudly expressed in Eddie Huang's memoir, Fresh Off the Boat. We all have different experiences of the reconciliation of American/Canadian and Asian cultures. It shapes us, the children, in so many different ways. There are a lot of positive stories but also, a lot of negative stories and assumptions.

Sometimes I don't know how to talk to my parents. My mother tells me I've changed and she doesn't understand the things I do anymore. I am now an awkward mix of my Chinese background, Western education, mixed upbringing and the fast pace, large information of the Internet. Some days, I find it hard to find a sense of community anywhere. But other days, like today, I think about how far we have come as a world to allow all of this to happen. As I grow older, I see the world become more interconnected. Trade is no longer just economical. There is so much to the world and its people.  Today, I think about how proud I am of my parents and grandmother who left their lives behind to start this new one. I think about how grateful I am that they did, to try to allow something more for future generations like me.

We are small, but we are powerful and the world is beautiful.

Included in the above are old photos of my parents and grandmother when they were young, old family photos, and recent pictures of my friends and I. 

An ongoing floral series

March 2015

A reflection

A few days ago, I share a beautiful sunset.

One of the things that has always fascinated me about life, is how quickly it can all change. We all make plans - plans for lunch tomorrow, plans to see a movie next week, whether or not to have kids or get married in the next five years. We make plans, but we don't know how quickly and easily things can change in a week. I think most of my big moments and important people have been found and discovered unexpectedly.

I think I saw it in a movie or read it in a book. The question was: have you ever met anyone and instantly thought that this person will change your life forever? I asked a couple of friends, some said they have, some said they haven't. I don't think I have met anyone and instantly thought this, but I have met people who have changed my life forever. I meet them unexpectedly.

I don't know if I have met anyone lately who will change my life indefinitely. I don't know if I ever know. Recently, I met someone who makes me happy, giddy. Four years ago, I met some girls who will come to see me grow, help me grow, inevitably be a part of the rest of my life - whether we remain part of each other's lives or not. During our time together, we laughed, we cried, we got angry and annoyed. Last summer, I met someone who helped me experience my world a little differently. We meet new people all the time. I always wonder who will change our lives a little bit, which moments will become imprinted in my heart long after the moment is gone.

Two months after I officially graduated and nearly four months after I finished my formal schooling, I am slowly finding my ground again. I feel a little less lost. I am meeting new people, finding new experiences in which I settle myself into. This summer, which comes to a close soon, has been strange and slow and I have been drifting. Yet they say that those who wander, are not all lost.

A few days ago, I share a sunset. We had not made plans before. It was just a casual mention over text messages that we were both free that evening. We are still walking when the circle sun disappears into the earth, but we sit and watch the fiery trail it leaves behind. It is not the most exciting sunset I've seen, but it is beautiful. I don't think the moments that define us always have to be loud. I think the moments that define us are often quiet, with a small wave or acknowledgement. Maybe this sunset was like this. Maybe not.

Human life is short, and it changes so quickly. Let's go watch the next sunset together.

In Memory Of

I'm talking to my old roommate and I want to cry. I say to her, "It's weird thinking back to the last day on campus and knowing that I'll always go back to Queen's, but it won't be home anymore."

Back in April, I distinctly remember standing in front of Stauffer Library at Union and University, looking across the street to the John Deutsch University Centre. I thought to myself that I will never be back in that spot.

Kingston, Ontario, Canada is only a three hour drive from Toronto, Ontario, Canada, where I live now. Queen's University has a long homecoming tradition and a strong community. I will always go visit Queen's and Kingston. I will visit next year to see my friends who are still studying at Queen's, I will return later still to see Queen's again. It's not the last time. The visits will just be less frequent than every day, going to my classes or the library.

Queen's University and the time I spent there from ages 17 to 21 will always, always hold a special place in my heart and soul.

In March, I am sitting in my bedroom with a Queen's alumnus. He graduated two years ago. We met at a wine-and-cheese alumni event in Ottawa. I tell him that I'm terrified to be leaving Queen's - excited, but terrified. I tell him I will miss my friends and the moments we shared together. He told me that things will be OK, he said that sometimes visiting Queen's is even better than being there. I told him I loved my friends, I loved living with them and being able to pop into their houses at any time. Still, sitting in my bedroom now in Toronto, I hope the alumnus is right. Life will be OK, and Queen's will always be a pleasant visit in the future.

If not for Queen's, I don't know what kind of person I would be. I believe in nurture over nature, that we are a product of our environments.

I chose Queen's University and moved to Kingston, Ontario, Canada because at 17, I desperately wanted to run away. I didn't feel happy anymore. I wanted Queen's University to become a home I built by myself, for myself. And it did. I arrived at Queen's knowing four people - a guy friend from middle school and three other kids from my high school. I left Queen's having made some of my best friends and knowing some of the best people. I left Queen's having discovered more of myself, and more importantly, having found family.

A month before the typical return to Queen's, I miss it. I miss my friends, I miss the campus, I miss the professors. I miss Stauffer Library. I miss walking by the gym I never went to. I miss getting Booster Juice and Quiznos. I miss QP and weekend wings nights. Oh, and the sangria. There are so many details. I loved my time there. I can't believe I'm a Queen's alumnae.

Hanlan's Point

Pictured in the above are: Jane and myself. 

SOS

I think I am caught in last summer. SOS, send help.

Today, I am standing in a local Toronto shop called Soop Soop with a guy I just met. It is a beautiful store- bright, white, simple, minimalist, humorous almost in its decoration, light-hearted in its feel. He is a nice guy- easy and interesting to talk to. Engaging, with a pink North Korea hat. I just met him, and I listen to his conversation with the store clerk/ owner. I am flipping through a C-Heads Magazine. Issue #33, entitled Summer. Lovers and Strangers. 

The magazine is beautiful. It is dedicated to summer, to the lovers and strangers we meet during the warm, sunshine months. I realize I am not photographing, hardly documenting.

Last summer, I met a man, I was reintroduced to California, I sat in backyards and drank too much beer. I was learning what it was to live, to love, to be part of an adventure.

Photographs are a great way of remembering, linking yourself to the past but also bringing people and experiences to your future. I need to return to this form of documentation. 

Pictured in the above are: Amanda, Hilary, Aleen, Jennifer, Andrew, Phil, Shivam, Devonte, Taylor, Adam and myself. 

Study of Perspective - Distillery District

Study of Perspective - Distillery District, July 2015, Toronto. 

Ai Weiwei is a Chinese artist that I deeply, deeply admire and respect. A few years ago, I saw his exhibit According to What? at the Art Gallery of Ontario in Toronto. He has a series of photographs called Study of Perspective.

This photograph was inspired by Ai Weiwei.

Moleskine 1

Inspiration Board 2 - Spaces

I've always liked spaces to feel homely. Cozy. Lived in. Loved in.

Growing up, I don't think my parents put much thought into home decor. A lot of our furniture is mismatched and throw together out of convenience and maybe what they liked about each separate piece when they first saw it at the store. I suppose there just wasn't much consideration. My parents recently bought a new leather couch though. We were shopping for a new fridge and after picking out a fridge, my mom started to walk around the big box store. She then told me we were getting a new couch. OK, Mom. The couch is near black and I suppose it matches the black marble-print coffee table a little bit better now, but for the most part, our furniture is still mismatched.

Mismatched furniture never mattered though. The mismatched picture frames never mattered either. All the pieces functioned and they were well used. All the frames held photos, memories and anecdotes of my childhood and my parents' adventures. All the strange knick knacks spoke of our experiences. Like this one time my mom and I went to a yard sale and bought these awful, ridiculous looking piggy banks for $3. I love those things.

I realize home isn't the white brick wall or the sheepskin on a chair though. Home is where we breathe a little more slowly, laugh a little too loudly and sleep peacefully. Home is home is home.

Images are taken from Urban Outfitters' "About A Space" blog articles.