Writing Prompt

1. What's one thing that's happened to you that has made you a stronger person? 
2. What's one thing that's happened to you in your life that made you feel weak? 
3. Where is one place you feel most like yourself?
4. Where is your favourite place to escape to? 
5. Who do you think has had the largest influence on the person you are today?
6. If you could change one thing about yourself what would it be? 
7. If you had one day left to live, what would you do first?
8. What decade do you feel you most belong in?
9. Who are you closest to in your family? Why?
10. Who is the one person in this world that knows you best?
11. What is your favourite quality about your best friend?
12. When you were younger what did you think you were going to be when you grow up? 
13. If you could identify with one fictional character (from a book, show, or movie) who would it be?
14. Do you easily accept compliments? Or do you hate compliments?
15. Is your favourite attribute about yourself physical or non-physical? 
16. What is your favourite physical attribute about yourself?
17. What is your favourite non-physical attribute about yourself?
18. Do you believe in love at first sight?
19. Do you believe in soulmates?
20. How seriously do you take horoscopes?
21. Have you ever been in love? How many times?
22. What makes you fall in love with someone?
23. What does vulnerability mean to you? What has the ability to make you vulnerable?
24. What's one thing you're scared to ask a man, but really want to?
25. If you were a man for a day, what would be the first thing you do?
26. What do you find most attractive about each sex?
27. What's one thing you'd love to learn more about?
28. What is something you've never done that you've always wanted to do?
29. Why haven't you done it yet?
30. If money didn't matter, what would your dream job be?
31. If you had today off from work, what would you do?
32. What was the last thing that made you cry?
33. What was the last thing that made you laugh? 
34. What is your favourite memory?
35. What's the last thing that really embarrassed you?
36. What is your biggest fear?
37. Do you have any regrets? What's your biggest one?
38. What is the craziest thing you've ever done?
39. Would you have a conversation with a stranger?
40. What's your favourite joke?
41. If you could be any animal, what animal would you be?
42. How do you think your parents would describe you as a child?
43. If you could go back to any age or time of your life, what age or time would it be?
44. What's something you believe in that not everyone else does? 
45. What's one thing you would say that makes you unique from other people?
46. What is one thing you feel your life is missing? 

To My Best Friend

I've known my best friend for 21 and a half years. For almost as long as I've been alive, she has been a part of my life. We have the sort of best-friendship that they base Disney Channel TV shows on. We text a lot; every day. We talk about everything. We share opinions about boys, food, clothes, makeup, culture, politics, people we dislike, people we somewhat like, school, art, pop culture, dating, TV shows, movies, white people, etc. I don't think we've ever gotten into a fight. She has been my constant since day 1 (of her life).

This afternoon, we're having a conversation. Texting back and forth, trying to make plans to see a movie later this week. She shares an article about Chinese bottle ladies in Toronto. We start talking about culture, and how we deal with our culture as second generation Chinese immigrants. We talk about the way we negotiate race and culture. I tell her one of the things I'm scared and ashamed of is eventually losing my culture when my parents are gone. My first generation immigrant parents have worked so hard to raise me in the best possible circumstances. Yet the reality is that my current situation moves further and further away from my parents and the culture they grew up in, and the culture they brought me up in. I'm afraid that without my parents, I won't keep up with the festivals and I won't know how to make any of the foods. I can already see how I might lose the language. As I'm expressing these concerns, Ellen tells me, "We could do it together. Between the both of us, I'm sure we can still do stuff." We could try to remember, maintain our culture and traditions together.

I know we've talked about this before. On my birthday, she sends me a long essay over text about this. It kind of clicked for me then. Our friendship has a longevity and truthfulness that is almost strange. I don't think it's particularly easy to maintain, although it has been for us. Our friendship has always been such a natural and unquestionable part of my life. Undeniable. I'm so glad for that.

Our conversation today reinforced how happy I am about our friendship. How happy I am to have her as part of my life, as a constant in my life. I am so happy and relieved to have someone who I can share growing up with, to share growing old with. I am relieved because our friendship means that I will never have to be alone when dealing with... Anything, really. There will always be someone to explore and examine the world with me. Whether it was when we were kids holding paper lanterns underneath a full moon, or today when we are almost adults discussing how difficult maintaining that cultural aspect may become. I have someone who will always be there to figure that stuff out with. I have someone who will always be there to listen.  To celebrate success with, to ponder confusion and sadness and anger with. I have someone who will always be in my corner as we're doing all that. And that? That's amazing. That's so lucky. I'm so fortunate. We're so fortunate. 

My best friend is great.

Film Haul

Pictured above: Kaley, Jennifer, Adam, Will, Cody, Eden, Holly, Michelle, Larissa, Ruth, Andy, Anwar, Ryan, Eric, some strangers and myself. 

On the 23 Women Who Inspire Me

Nico writes a list of 29 women who have shaped his life. A woman for every year of his life. These are women who helped him grow, who gave him love, taught love. "An ode to the women that taught me how to love." 

Inspired by Nico, I wrote a list of 22 men who have been storms in my life. They are men who have taught me strength and resilience, courage and recklessness. They are men who have built me and broke me. Encouraged me and forced me to grow.

Men and masculinity are so often thought of in violent, active terms. Men are not quiet. They are not soft or tender. Masculinity represents strength and aggression. They are forceful and hard. They are the storms of my life. Storms are beautiful, and they're necessary. When we are broken, we grow. But when we are whole, we also grow. The women in my life have made me whole.

If men are storms, then women are oceans. Women are the oceans that will always look clear, that will always fold back to envelop. They are the calm and powerful. They refresh and renew. They erode and demolish. Women are the calm you envision, but the strength and true, sheer durability that you sometimes forget. It is women and femininity that is uplifting and grounding. Soothing and paralyzing. So, a woman for every year of my life.

To my mother, Janny, who is everything that supports, nurtures and cripples me. Mom is constant love, sacrifice, care and attention. Mom is constant worry, expectation, and hope. Mom is always, always and will forever be home. I don't have words to express the importance of my mother in my story, my upbringing, my life, my values. Everything. Mom, I know I wasn't an easy child. I'm not an easy person- always an underlying illness even when I wasn't sick, a selfish child, a lonely child, someone caught up in her own world. I think you've done so well with me though. You've worked so hard. Thank you for that. Thank you for always trying to support me. You're the first person I want to share my excitement with, and the person I never want to disappoint.

To my aunt, Lisa, who has always been the symbol of fun and adventure. A kind of carefree. You've always had a story to tell, always a smile to share. Always there to listen to my stories, and to encourage them.

To my grandmother, Yuk Mui, someone who has seen too much of the world, its brilliance and its terror. My grandmother who was a child living through the Sino-Japanese War. My grandmother who travelled across the world to start a life where she truly knew no one and nothing. My grandmother who kept going, continues to keep going. On the other side of the coin, my grandmother who braved the world and never forgot its horrors and chaos. My grandmother who never forgave the world for the sadness it caused her. My grandmother who never got over the anger and an entitlement to something better. My grandmother who is relentless, but scared of death, scared of quiet. My grandmother is part of a world I will never understand, but maybe it's for that I should thank her endlessly.

To my best friend, Ellen, who is more of a sister than she is a friend. Ellen, who I have known since I was a year and a half and she was born. Ellen, who I talk to almost daily. Who I'm not afraid of exposing myself to; my secrets, vulnerabilities, flaws and mostly, my inconsistencies. In so many ways, we are so different but in so many ways, we are also the same. If I was to fall, you are what ties me to the Earth. You keep me grounded, truthful and accountable. I don't know where to begin or where to end when it comes to you, or us. I think you're how I stay together. Thanks for understanding. Thanks so much for understanding more than anyone can or ever will.

To Amma, who has been the best mentor and friend. Thank you for being a presence in my life, for you've always, always been such a positive influence. I think beyond our old school, career and boy talks, the thing that stood out the most was how bright you are as a person. You radiate so much light and so much kindness. So much goodness. I cannot wait to see you at your wedding, and I cannot wait for all the happiness that life, as you said before, will bring. That's the best thing you taught me - to look forward.

To Charlotte, who I ask about all things in life. Love, health, friendship, biology, things on the Internet, drugs, everything. I remember talking to you for the first time on that walk to the football game, and then sitting in your room till 3 o'clock in the morning that same day with Chris. We then spent so much of our time at Queen's together. We lived together for three years, basically four. You've seen me do some stupid things. You've seen me naked. You've seen me at some of my best and my absolute worst. And vice versa. We've done some fun things together, some boring things together, and everything in between. It's funny how things work out that way. I really don't know where I'd be without you the past 5 or so years. I see you so much and often as my voice of reason, and kinda my lifeline. I don't know how to express all of that without being cheesy... You're great. Actually, in your words, you're perfect.

To Mishi, who I shared almost every single dumb and drunk and fun adventure with in my four years at Queen's. My fellow Sagittarius who always sought a little adventure, always willing to do something, always willing to play the odds a little. When I think of us, I think of drunkenly walking down Kingston streets late at night. I think of laying in your bed and falling asleep while doing nothing at all. I think of all your weird meal combinations. I think of someone who makes me laugh, who makes me feel so cared for and loved. I think of tequila shots. When I think of us, I think of shouting to you in the next room. To be honest, I can't really think of those four years of my life without you in every frame. 

To Evasha, my first roommate. Maybe it's because we were roommates and at such a critical part of my life thus far, having you in my life feels like such a sense of security. You're always there to listen, without judgement. Or not, because you also throw in some of the shadiest comments. That's one of the things I miss a lot about you and Kingston- it's the regular everyday chats. It's swapping stories and anecdotes and that was us.

To Sarah. From the very first week of Queen's to now, it is so strange and lovely to see how our friendship has manifested. You are the sweetest, kindest, most generous person and I am so happy and lucky to have you in my life. Honestly, you bring such happiness and joy to my life. I miss you. I miss our time together. I miss hanging out - whether it is at the mall, in the library or just sharing a nap in my room. We always did have fun.

To Jenny, who I always saw as my cooler older sister. I have and continue to so admire you for the way you are, the way you have always been and continue to be. You are so fearlessly yourself, so fiercely and unapologetically independent. You have always had such clarity in how you approach life. I always aspired to be like you in that way. I know we don't see each other that often, but when we do, things feel so natural. They feel like an old piece of home. Even in the way that our friendship continues, I feel that kind of steady confidence that you've always exuded.

To my cousin, Michelle, who faces the world with a kind of bravery and independence and attitude. No one quite does it like Michelle, is what I always thought growing up. I like the way you've always approached the things in your life. You never backed down from what you wanted. You've always demanded a certain level of respect. I love that. I think this about you, is going to make you an amazing mother. I already see it. 

To Kelly, who I lost before I learned how to say sorry, before I learned how to put aside my pride and admit to my own anger. I'm sorry I never said I was wrong. I'm sorry I was angry and I took it out on you, on something that was never your fault and entirely my own. You were an amazing friend, and you saw me in a much kinder light than I deserved.

To Henrieta, the one I discuss everything big with. The one who challenged me intellectually, the one who demanded me to go further creatively. I remember our drawing sessions where we spent as much time discussing politics, philosophy, culture, life, art as we did any art. I think this was an important part of my life in Kingston. I needed someone who understood and sought after all those parts of life. No one else does adventure or living quite like you.

To Jennifer, who I shared so much of my growing up with. Who I used to sit by the skatepark with, making up stories for the boys, making up stories for the rest of our lives. You are a part of so many of my stories and so many of my memories. An undeniable part of my teens and also my young adulthood. I think the most significant thing to say, is that you were part of my discovery. The discovery of myself, of people, of culture, of adventure, of alcohol, of boys. Also, you're one hell of a muse.

To my first and second grade teacher, Ms. Brown. I think I will always remember you as the sweetest, most caring teacher I will ever have the absolute pleasure to meet. Years later, thinking back to some of the things you did for us, it is so easy to see how well suited you were to teaching young children. Their first encounter with the outside world. Thank you for showing this frightened child so much kindness, for encouraging her as much as you did. I still journal all the time. Thank you for giving me that.

To Nefisa, the girl who will change the world. I really believe that. You've always been so brilliant. The way you see the world and the tireless way you work. You're always someone I look up to, always someone who I can count on for support. Also, always someone who can make me laugh and open up a little more to the world.

To Danielle, who I have to thank for so many amazing opportunities. This program and your guidance was pivotal in how I see the world, how I know the world today. I know how lucky I am to have been part of this program. It offered us so many connections that we wouldn't have had otherwise. It helped me learn about the world, and the possibilities that I haven't seen before. You were at the centre of all that. You worked so tirelessly for us to get all of that. You also went above and beyond. It's really like family. I'll always see it as family.

To Auntie Tunnie, my mom's best friend and my babysitter as a little babe. In my own world, what is really my world and the people in it, you are who I always thought of as so much wisdom. A gentle, kind and patient wisdom. Someone who is humble. I adore you. I always have, even as a kid. I continue to now, and I think it's still so obvious. Maybe embarrassingly so. Your daughter is wonderful too. It's so eye opening seeing how she's growing up. When she was little, she reminded me so much of myself but as she's growing, I can see how wonderful she is on her own. She's going to do wonderful things, and I'm sure it's because of your presence. 

To Patty, my middle school best friend. I remember continuously walking the track during lunch breaks. I remember discussing boys over the phone. I remember the crying as we discussed the boys. I remember the first touch of teenage emotion, angst, drama; the vindictiveness of it all. Before 13-year-olds were ever cool, there was us and the way we saw the world that was too simple and too complicated. You were a simpler period of my life, but also when things became so much more complicated. 

To Erline and Kaley. I once read about the people you invite to your wedding. I'm not getting married any time soon, but the article suggested that you invite new friends as well as your really old friends. New friends who have the potential to stay in your life, shape your life; who you really enjoy having in your life. I always say that my coworkers at Starbucks are the sweetest people. You guys are that. But beyond that and our shared interests, it is also the discussions we have when we're together. It's so enlightening the way you guys see the world because of our different experiences growing up and existing in the world. This is always precious. We are bonded by mutual annoyances and interests, strengthened by food and the way we talk about life, learn about life and all its nuances.

To my yoga teacher, Krista, who sees the world in a way I want to learn. A world I want to be a part of. For me, Krista encourages a kind of juxtaposition in life so easily forgotten. I'm asked to push my body in ways I'm not used to, to challenge the pain and discomfort in my body that I so easily shy away from. I've always been told my body is a fragile thing and I can never be too careful with it. Here, I'm told to challenge. To respect my body, but to challenge it. I'm told of the power and strength of my body instead of its fragility. I'm told to play instead of staying in the shadows.

And finally to Hanna, who I have never met but write to, both in letters to her and in the back of my mind. Hanna, who is beautiful in the way she holds herself, the way she encounters the world, the way she lets the world encounter her. Hanna, I could lose and have lost myself in your words. I've also found myself and continue to find myself in your words too. Truly the embodiment of a force of nature. 

I wrote saying that a list of women would be easier to write. Women have always been there to inspire me, encourage me, support me. Women have always been there to protect and care for me in a way that the men in my life never have. Women, who have always served as the beacons of beauty, grace, kindness in my life. I'm not sure where I will be without them. I'm not sure how I will be without them. Women are everything. The past, present and future. Always existing and present.

23

My birthday is in less than two hours. I'm sitting in my bedroom just in my underwear. I have a cup of lemon honey tea, and I can barely feel my arms. It's the sort of tired where it feels like my arm might drop off. I'm still sweaty from a hot yoga class. I know I'll probably look like a mess tomorrow when I wake up at 5:30AM for work. I have scratches on my wrist, small bruises on my hand, legs and breasts. Most of which I don't know where from. I look in the mirror and I see the way my body rolls, gorges and rounds. I see all the things I'm unhappy about, but also all the ways that this fragile body of mine has lasted, has endured.

I'm going to be 23. That's twenty-three times around the sun. Twenty-three years of growing, of learning, of being stupid and of trying to manifest some sort of intelligence and wisdom. In 23 years, I've tried to learn some kindness, learn some things about politics, some philosophy. Tried to learn how to be less selfish, how to be more forgiving, more patient. So many things that I can look into my life and say I've succeeded at and I've failed at. It is a constant process of learning. Of becoming. We never stop becoming, and that's the trick they don't tell you. We will never stop learning. We will always be in the process of becoming.

23 feels like a big number. It feels like it will be a big year. I hope that it will be a big year. I think I need it to be a big year of change, a significant leap or jump. A change in chapter and direction. Something needs to feel like progress, look like growth; needs to feel like the ache of building.

I wonder in twenty-three years, what have I learned? In my twenty-third year, what will I learn?

• I've learned some of what I need in a relationship. I need stability, communication, some sense of commitment. I need excitement. I need good sex. I need someone passionate, someone at least a little reckless, adventurous, intelligent. I need someone who makes me laugh; to share laughter with. I need someone I'm not scared of talking to. I need someone to be vulnerable with. 
• I've learned about timing. Not all things are meant to last forever. Not all things are meant to even begin. There is a time and a place for everyone and everything. It's no one's fault. Just the way life goes.
• I've learned about being alone. Being alone happens. Loneliness happens. Surrounded in a crowded room with strangers or friends, loneliness happens. There is nothing wrong with being alone or feeling lonely. It helps us learn. It helps us explore. It helps us grow.
• There is a time to fight and a time to flow. Some things are worth fighting for, fighting against. Like working out of a bad situation, the way your body can stiffen and harden, the opportunities that you have to fight tooth and nail to have and to keep. Some things you have to just accept and ride out. Like drugs. 
• Try to live in the moment. There is only so much we can do about the past or the future. But also, remember that the moment passes. Whatever is bad now won't always be bad. Everything, good or bad, keeps moving. What is bad now, or what is good now might not be so bad or good in a week. Flow. Breathe. 
• The Good People exist. They're worth waiting for. They're worth finding. I know I forget this often, but I have to know that this is true. 
• I've learned about the importance of travel. Or more specifically, of unfamiliarity. The unfamiliar opens our eyes. We learn so much about the world and ourselves when we travel, when we explore. When we see the world with fresh eyes; child's eyes. 
• Have fun. Enjoy yourself. Loosen your jaw. Remember to breathe. Cry if you want to. Always strive for that deep belly laughter. 
• I've learned the importance of letting go, even if I don't quite know how to do this yet.
• I've learned so much about myself. Every new adventure, every new task, every problem or conflict, every time I feel so angry or so sad. Every time I feel uplifted, happy, disappointed. I am learning so much about myself, my past, my own personality, my ability and capacity to handle challenges and discomfort. How I handle fear. 
• I've learned to cook. 
• I've learned how to push my body. Through yoga, through colds, through sickness. Through the daily everyday practices of living. 
• I've learned the importance of not knowing. The importance of mystery and ambiguity. There doesn't have to be an explanation or a rationale. Things happen. Life happens. That's just the way it goes. 
• I'm learning how to smile through it all. How to breathe, how to step back and enjoy it anyways. I'm not any good at this, but I'm trying. I'm learning. 
• Et cera, et cera... 

I want things to go well. I always want things to go well. I want all the things that didn't happen this year, to happen next year. I want to embrace the world more, its people more, myself more. I want love, I want the start of a career, I want the bonds I already have to continue to strengthen and last. I want money. I want some sense of stability and upwardness in my life. I want to get my full license. Maybe a cat. I want to see things more from my parents' point of view. I want to learn more of their history and why they think the way they do. I don't want to disappoint my parents. I want to worry them less. I want more tattoos. I want my body toner and leaner. I want my skin to be better, to be less angry with me. I want to accept my body more for the way it is, but to never stop pushing for better. I want to keep up with yoga. I want to paint and draw, and I want to make this consistent and a real practice. I want nice clothes. I want to spend less money on trivial things. I want to be happy. I want to be more vulnerable. I want to do more for my friends. I want the Good People in my life, and more of them. I want to be around creative people. I want to be around kind people. I want to be loud and embracive of life. I don't want to back down from challenges. I want to move past the Fear. I want, I want, I want. I will have.

Every year is another year, another chapter, another start. Every month is another month, another chapter, another start. Every week is another week, another chapter, another start. Every day is another start. Every day is another opportunity for something to change everything.

22 was good. 23 will be good. 23 will be great. It will be to challenge, to endure, and to strive.

November Favourites

Vagabond Emira boots - These Chelsea boots are beautiful. Black leather, 2 inch heel. Blessed. They go with everything (of course, they're black boots). They're narrow from toe to shaft, which I digress is different from my various other black boots. These are a very popular shoe. I can see at least one other fashionable Torontonian girl wearing it every day. The girls at Aritzia know the shoe by name. But I can't say that any of this bothers me very much. It is a beautiful shoe. I also strutted around London UK in these babies.

My new tattoo by Jess Chen - which I wrote about it here.

This mug from Sam James.

A Little Life by Hanya Yanagihara - Shortlisted for the Manbooker in 2015, it tells the story of four boys who met in college and how they progressed their lives in New York City. There is a lawyer, an actor, an artist and an architect. Jude, Willem, JP, and Malcolm. This book is long, but it's so beautiful. I haven't been so excited for a book in a long while. There is humour, a kind of nosiness, humanity. I don't know what to say other than you have to read it.

ClassPass - ClassPass was offering a deal. $19 for five classes. I've heard of ClassPass before, but never bothered with it since I had my own yoga studio. However, since the summer, I've just practicing here and there at home instead of the studio. Four dollars a class was too good to say no. I tried a Pilates class at Misfits, an aerial yoga class at Fly, and then I cheated and went to my favourite yoga teacher Krista's classes at the various studios she teaches at. It was a very good deal, and I think a good way for me to get back into that fitness groove. Don't hate it. 

Old Film

Pictured above: Jennifer in London and Ben in Toronto.

Peach bums x 90s sweatshirts

Tattoo I

Last Saturday I got my first tattoo. It cost roughly $360, not including tip. And it was done by Jess Chen at Tattoo People. It was all line work, no colour. It's unlikely that I will ever get it coloured.

What is it? 
It's two peonies surrounded by some buds and leaves, spilling out of a rectangular box.

What does it mean?
The original sketch I made to show Jess included a line of poetry. 'The rose is without why.' 

The rose is without why
It blooms because it blooms
It cares not for itself
Asks not if it is seen

It is a poem by German poet, Angelus Silesius. I first discovered the poem as an art installation by French artist Boris Achour for Nuit Blanche in 2013. I fell in love with the words.

We are constantly bombarded with expectation and normalcy, complacency, society. There is so much we have to do, to such a specific degree and scale. I've always tried so hard to follow along. I don't know how successful I am in that mission, but I've always tried. I don't think I have ever sought difference although I'm sure I have always been a bit of an alien. A weirdo, out of place, an outsider.

I want to be reminded- I need to be reminded that sometimes difference is OK. Sometimes difference doesn't matter, because sometimes some things don't require an explanation. Things happen. I happen, life happens. We're so limited in what we can do to change the world, change ourselves, change our lives, the way people think of us, the way they think of themselves. And yet, we must keep doing, keep going, breathing. Life is. I am- without explanation or reason or the necessity of such. It is.

Peonies were chosen because they're my favourite flowers. The peony is the national flower of China. It's found in lots of traditional Chinese paintings as well as silk embroidery. It represents wealth, beauty, honour. Referred to as the "King of Flowers" or "Flower of Riches and Honour" on the Internet. Peonies bloom beautifully, but they look messy. Complicated. They're painted beautifully in Chinese paintings, a sort of simplicity and vibrancy in design and colour. But I think, in reality, they're such a full flower. So heavy, so lively, yet still fragile in the way that it can fall apart.

Did it hurt?
It didn't hurt as much as I thought it would. It felt like how many people described it to me, like a cat scratch. Some parts were a little more painful than others. I could feel the difference between the thickness of each line. The thinner line of the rectangle felt different from the thicker lines of the peonies, which felt different from the even thinner lines that made up the "shading". The tattooing process wasn't bad at all. The noise of the gun was annoying, but less so as time went on. The feeling of the gun vibrating against skin also felt less unfamiliar as time went on. It was OK. Incredibly bearable.

However, the rest of my evening after the tattoo felt like a disaster. I felt incredibly, incredibly weak and got very sick. It was to the point where I still felt light headed through most of Sunday.

I thought I was prepared for my tattoo. I had a full meal before my appointment. I met a friend for lunch around noon. My appointment was at 2PM. Lunch included pasta and some protein. I didn't drink any alcohol or caffeine before my appointment. I was prepared in that I brought water, a large chocolate chip cookie and a can of Pringles with me to my appointment. I didn't eat much of the cookie or Pringles until my session was done. I think this was my mistake.

Towards the end of my session, my head started to feel very full and stuffy. It wasn't a light headed feeling, but something different. I finished up though. My tattoo got bandaged up. I didn't think it bled very much. After my appointment, my friend and I went to a coffee shop because we had some time to kill before meeting another friend for dinner. The headache started slowly over the next hour or so. It became a quiet pounding inside my head. Fast forward a few hours, I did manage to get through dinner with my two friends. We had sushi. I was later told that was a bad idea. After dinner, we were still sitting at the restaurant waiting for one of my friends to be picked up. I vomited. My head was pounding and I spent the rest of the night vomiting. I somehow managed to Uber back to my place, but I think I ended up vomiting at least 3 or 4 times that night.

My good friend Henrieta told me after that I should've had something sugary after my session. I should've had something warm, like broth for supper. I should've taken it easy. Probably should've slept after my session. She explained to me that the endorphins and adrenaline in my body shot up during the tattooing process. I needed sugar for the crash. My body did not handle stress or shock well.

How long did it take?
It took about an hour for the actual needle to skin. The whole experience took about two hours, two and a half hours for the stencilling, prepping the station, discussing the final details of the design, etc. The booking her took about six months.

Why'd you do it?
I've always admired tattoos. I've wanted a tattoo for years but never settled on a final design or concept. I like Jess's artwork. I want to be able to control some aspect of my physical body, which always feels like it is just beyond my control. I like the idea of art on my body. A canvas. And, why not? Why shouldn't you?  

Are you getting more?
Probably. Don't tell my mom though.

A Little Life by Hanya Yanagihara

pp. 141-142:

He felt in those minutes his body's treason, how sometimes the central, tedious struggle in his life was his unwillingness to accept that he would be betrayed by it again and again, that he could expect nothing from it and yet had to keep maintaining it. So much time, his and Andy's, was spent trying to repair something unfixable, something that should have wound up in charred bits on a slag heap years ago. And for what? His mind, he supposed. But there was - as Andy might have said - something incredibly arrogant about that, as if he was saving a jalopy because he had a sentimental attachment to its sound system.

By Warsan Shire

I DID NOT WRITE THIS. I REPEAT, I DID NOT WRITE THIS. 

THE FOLLOWING IS FROM WARSAN SHIRE'S Teaching My Mother How to Give Birth. 

Entitled CONVERSATIONS ABOUT HOME (AT THE DEPORTATION CENTRE).

Well, I think home spat me out, the blackouts and curfews like tongue against loose tooth. God, do you know how difficult it is, to talk about the day your own city dragged you by the hair, past the old prison, past the school gates, past the burning torsos erected on poles like flags? When I meet others like me I recognise the longing, the missing, the memory of ash on their faces. No one leaves home unless home is the mouth of a shark. Ive been carrying the old anthem in my mouth for so long that there's no space for another song, another tongue or another language. I know a shame that shrouds, totally engulfs. I tore up and ate my own passport in an airport hotel. I'm bloated with language I can't afford to forget.

They ask me how did you get here? Can't you see it on my body? The Libyan desert red with immigrant bodies, the Gulf of Aden bloated, the city of Rome with no jacket. I hope the journey meant more than miles because all of my children are in the water. I thought the sea was safer than the land. I want to make love, but my hair smells of war and running and running. I want to lay down, but these countries are like uncles who touch you when you're young and asleep. Look at all these borders, foaming at the mouth with bodies broken and desperate. I'm the colour of hot sun on the face, my mother's remains were never buried. I spent days and nights in the stomach of the truck; I did not come out the same. Sometimes it feels like someone else is wearing my body.

I know a few things to be true. I do not know where I am going, where I have come from is disappearing, I am unwelcome and my beauty is not beauty here. My body is burning with the shame of not belonging, my body is longing. I am the sin of memory and the absence of memory. I watch the news and my mouth becomes a sink full of blood. The lines, the forms, the people at the desks, the calling cards, the immigration officer, the looks on the street, the cold settling deep into my bones, the English classes at night, the distance I am from home. But Alhamdulilah all of this is better than the scent of a woman completely on fire, or a truckload of men who look like my father, pulling out my teeth and nails, or fourteen men between my legs, or a gun, or a promise, or a lie, or his name, or his manhood in my mouth.

I hear them say go home, I hear them say fucking immigrants, fucking refugees. Are they really this arrogant? Do they not know that stability is like a lover with a sweet mouth upon your body one second; the next you are a tremor lying on the floor covered in rubble and old currency waiting for its return. All I can is, I was once like you, the apathy, the pity, the ungrateful placement and now my home is the mouth of a shark, now my home is the barrel of a gun. I'll see you on the other side.

To stay grounded

• Can you list 5 things you see in your current setting?
• Can you list 5 things you hear in your current setting? 
• Can you list 5 things you feel in your current setting? 

Repeat with 3 things.
Repeat with 1 thing.

Dalton Barath

I found a roll of film from years ago. This was the only print of any substance. Everything else was destroyed. A wreck. A lot of black with nothing, a couple of ruined shots. This was the only thing left. A double exposure of Dalton and myself in my room in first year. Lovingly dubbed the jail cell.

How the fuck did we go from there to here? I don't even talk to him anymore. I haven't spoken to him in over a year. The last time was an awkward goodbye at the Grad Club. I hope he's happy now. I wonder if he ever made it into military school. I wonder if he's still with his girlfriend. She was a sweet generous person, exactly the kind of person he needed. 

On the 22 Men Who Inspire Me

Nico writes a list of 29 women who have shaped his life. These are women who helped him grow, who gave him love, taught love. "An ode to the women that taught me how to love." 

I think it would be easier to write a list of the women who inspire me, encourage me, support me. Who love me. But this is for the men in my life, and their energy that I must accept. For it is the men in my life who have always caused the biggest storms, inspired the most tremendous growth. Men who have broken me, but also taught me strength and resilience. This is for the men in my life who have taught me endurance in love, courage and recklessness in love. It is for the men who have stayed and who have left. For the ones who have broken me, and the ones who have helped me rebuild. It is for men who continuously force me to go beyond comfortable, who open my eyes and show me the world in a way I had not seen it before.

To my father, Steven, who tries in the ways he can to show love, to create and foster a family. To my father who never knew his father, who never grew up in a conventional family. Who grew up struggling and lost. Dad, we disagree on so many topics. There are issues I don't know how to solve because of you, but Dad, I know you tried. I know you tried so hard to show me love and a good home. In many ways, it was a good home. Thanks for a childhood where I got to see so much, where I got to laugh so much. Thanks for doing all that you knew to do.

To my grandpa, Edward, who I wish got to see me grow older because I know you would've been proud of me in the silent way that you always were. To my grandpa who I still imagine sitting on the end of the couch, watching TV, helping me colour in my colouring books. It was my grandpa who was the first inspiration for art, for the creative. It was my grandpa who I never knew how to say goodbye to. 

To Phil, who still haunts me today. Phil, you were everything and you taught me so much. Sex, love, photography, pain, messy relationships, graffiti, being playful and taking risks. The ferocity and viciousness of love. You were the most beautiful summer. You taught me love, heartbreak and doubt in the way that only being in love can. You were the best love, but the most confusing and heartbreaking. 

To Adam, one of my best friends. You are the kindest, the most understanding. I always tell you you're one of the best people I know. You are comfort, you are safety. You are home. I don't want to imagine my life without you in it. We've known each other for maybe six years now, and I'm so happy for this. You're everything I'm so glad to have in my life. Thank you for always being so understanding, so giving with me. You spoil me, and for that, I'm so so lucky. 

To Jack, the boy who lived upstairs; my first crush. You were the one who first showed me the importance of laughter in the person you hope to be your partner. You showed me to look for a partner in mischief, in adventure. 

To my cousin, Ken, who always, always comes through. Thanks for all the drives and being the best handyman/tech guy. Things get tough, but they're far less scary when I know you're there for backup. Also, you have the driest sense of humour. You're so rude sometimes, and I love and admire that. 

To Dalton, one of my first and best friends in university. And whom I had the biggest crush on. I think maybe you were the one that got away. Everyone thought we were going to date. You kissed me on the cheek once, but that was all. You were still the one that showed me so much music, so many movies. So much counterculture. You were always so different, and the world seemed too small for you. I will always hope that you're doing well.

To Jonathan, my first kiss. I was 16, sitting in your living room. We were watching I Am Legend when you kissed me. I told you that it was my first kiss, and you turned my head over again and asked for my second. You were everything I wasn't at the tender age of sixteen. You were mysterious and a bad boy, all the things I'm drawn to today. 

To Stephen, who I lovingly call Bear. You are not the easiest person, and sometimes I have to really try. You are different and kind in the way you know how, the way you believe in the things you do. It is a lesson and a gift to see the world from another's perspective. It is a blessing to see the world in a way bigger than your own. You've taught me so much about myself, about being in pain, about being resilient. You became such an important piece of my life in such a precarious period of my life. I remember all the late nights talking. Please know that even when we don't talk as much as we used to, even as I grow, you're always part of who I am. A part of the things I aspire to be.

To Mr. Erickson. You've taught me so, so much about how to be kind. How to be understanding and accepting of difference. You taught me to be critical. How to push and create the change I want to see. You also introduced me to my favourite author, and for that I will always be grateful.

To Mr. Bauer, who made all the girls swoon. You are the epitome of a good teacher. You, who cared so much about the world and the people in it. You, who changed career paths so you could change the world in a more tacit way. You've taught me to be kind and considerate of the people and the environment around me. You've taught me to always see the best in people; the potential in the world. You taught me to always be hopeful for the future.

To Raj, who I've known for so many years now without having to think much about this fact. You've always encouraged my sexuality, made me more curious to explore and embrace my sexuality. You met a frightful, young, innocent girl, and seen her become the unapologetic sexual being she is today. And still, you compliment me on my smile.

To Alex and Griffin, the Boys who made my undergraduate career what it was. We met what feels like a lifetime ago. When we met, we were all so young and naive in the way that we saw the world, the way we handled the world. I remember all the times in first year we spent getting drunk, and then the times in the following years. You guys take such good care of me. You're always there as an ear to listen. Always there to finish off the food at all-you-can-eat sushi. I don't know where I'd be, or how I would've made it out of Queen's without you two. I have so much love for the two of you.

To Robert, who is a hard person to explain in my life. You taught me a kind of comfort in my body. You taught me to demand what I want, and to say stop when things become more than I can handle. You are a return to animalism. 

To Richard, who was the closest I've come to a real boyfriend. You were so good until you became so difficult. But it was good. Our strange and awkward dance helped me figure out what I want and what I need in a partner. It taught me to communicate and to compromise. It helped me realize the importance of being alone, and of finding myself before finding someone else. You were so tall and you always made me smile and sometimes, I still wish that we could've made it work. 

To Feo, the sweet alumnus who reassured me that the future would always be hopeful. We met right before the end of my final year. You were a friend of my Gael's, which only made your advice all the more reassuring. You were so many sweet things that I wished I had more often. A good influence who I wished I got to spend more time with. 

To Timmy, who I met in middle school and somehow followed through university. We've become such different people, and we haven't spoken in maybe a year. But we've always stopped and picked up where we last left off. You're very dependable in that way. You've always been dependable. I think we'll always be there to help each other out. You're just that kind of person.

To Russ, the boy I lost my virginity to. You allowed me the opportunity not to lose myself in another person. You gave me the freedom to constantly choose, rather than to let one person define me. Also, I can't believe you waited a whole Guy Ritchie movie to make a move. I fell asleep during that movie. I had already seen it before. 

To Alejandro, who spoke such lovely words and inspired me to speak lovely words in return. You were a beautiful tortured soul, more tortured than my young 19-year old self could handle. You were loving and possessive. I was in love and flighty. I never ached for someone the same way I ached for you. It was a short lived and distant romance, but the creativity and passion you inspired in me, I'll never lose the words for. 

To Matt, the only boy I felt truly sorry about. I'm sorry for the way I treated you. It wasn't fair. It was cruel and reckless. You met me at such a difficult time in my life. I was heartbroken and so, so lost. I didn't know how to deal with it and you were caught in the crossfire. This isn't an excuse, but a poor explanation. I hope you're happy now with someone who deserves your affection.

And finally to Samuel, the most recent one. We had so much in common, and towards the end I thought I was fine being friends. I liked your passion for igniting change. I liked the way you spoke about it. So defiant against a system I had already lost faith in. You still believed in change, and I admired that part of you. But like you told me, we're not perfect people and we can't always treat people the way they should be treated. I'm learning to treat myself better. Be kinder to myself, be less harmful. One of the last things you said to me broke me down in tears. It brought back all the heartbreak that I thought I had moved past. I'm not ready or willing to be thrown into that again. Men have taught me strength, but I am trying to teach myself kindness.

To the men who have changed my life, I wish you only the best even if our end was only the worst. I hope that if the stars and moons align, we'll meet each other only in the best circumstances and with the kindest intentions. I hope I will meet the men of my present and future with the same strength and resilience I've been taught. I hope I meet myself with the kindness that I will surely need. 

That Time in London

A flight on September 29th, originally set to land in London UK on September 30th at 6:25am. It was a week and a half of beautiful ol' London with an old friend to show me the ropes. I flew back to Toronto on October 10th. My week and a half in London was very, very full. There was a lot of walking. There was a lot to see, and probably more that still needs to be seen. I'm told London is one of the oldest cities, a real first class city. One of the most notable in the world. London was not for me, but it was still beautiful and it was still an experience to be had. 

9.29.16. This isn't my worst flying experience, but it certainly isn't the best. Before I go to the airport, I already know that my flight is going to be delayed but I go early anyways. What was originally a 30-minute delay becomes a 3-hour delay. My seat mate is nice though. It's his first flight since he was a kid. It's my first flight in two years. He's moving to the UK to do his Master's. 

10.1.16. Some girls are chatting in the kitchen when I get back to the hostel and join them. A French girl tells us her story. She spent her entire life doing the respectable thing- she went to school, to university, studied to start a career as an auctioneer. She always thought of herself as a career lady. When she failed her test, it all came crashing down. Now she moves around a lot. She works as a waitress, moving from country to country, trying to find a place for herself. Trying to find some kind of happiness. When she feels that it's not her place, she moves on. She tells us it's never easy. That it's not in her nature to be spontaneous or embrace change like this, but she doesn't know what else to do. Another girl contributes to the conversation, tells us her father told her, "There is a magic and a clearness in loneliness. Enjoy it."

10.6.16. What is supposed to be an early night ended up being much later when I come back to the hostel, only to go out again with people from the hostel. On a rooftop looking out at the Shard, I listen to these 20-year old girls talk about how they are exploring the world. A 20-year old Merreck tells me she took a year off from university to travel Europe and then spend a month in Vietnam. She tells me about how she backpacked the summer before in Europe. I keep meeting people like Merreck, although she is among the youngest I have met on my trip. These are people set on seeing the world, set on a little bit of difference in their lives. I am both proud and envious of these people with so much energy and curiosity to embrace the world. 

10.8.16. We end up spending most of the day drinking and drunk. It is fun. The food is delicious. We see parts of the city alive that I haven't seen before. But the travelling is taking its toll on me. I know I'm ready to go home. I think what I learned on this trip is this: I like travelling. I like seeing the world, but at the same time, I need some sort of routine- no matter how small. I also need a feeling of connection, of home. It can be in other people, it can be in spontaneous moments, but it has to be there. London, although beautiful, did not offer any feeling of home or deep connection. 

My flight home goes smoothly. 

Nearly a week after I've been home, it is still difficult for me to decide how I feel about my trip, how I feel about London. I tell people that London is not my favourite city. Some people get this, some people don't. 

Jennifer tells me at the beginning of my trip that London is just another big city, and by the end of the trip I agree with her. London is old and beautiful, but it is also a city ruled by young people and tourists. Buildings are torn down, but the fronts remain. An illusion, a mirage of history. A beautiful mirage, but a mirage nonetheless. The culture of the city feels hard to appreciate when there is so much other stuff in the mix. 

My favourite parts of the trip are wandering the galleries and spending time with Jennifer in the quieter parts of town. I liked spending time in Jennifer's neighbourhood of Fulham and then Shoreditch on a quieter day. It is getting a little lost on the tube, and flirting with British boys at a bar in Shoreditch. It is the wonderful scenery on the way to the Barbican Conservatory. It is also all the wonderful food we had. It is getting lost with near strangers from the hostel. 

London isn't my city. If pressed, I probably wouldn't go back. I probably wouldn't have gone if it wasn't to visit Jennifer. London is wonderful though. I had fun. I had a nice trip. 7/10. 

Pictured above: Merreck, Henry, Jennifer and myself. 

First Look at London

Pictured above: Jennifer and myself.

Excerpt from The Virgin Suicides

I didn't enjoy The Virgin Suicides. It's a beautifully poetic book, but the romance of it was destroyed from having seen the cult classic film multiple times prior to reading. I enjoyed the following passage immensely though, particularly the last line.

From p. 235 of my copy:

Inside, we got to know girls who had never considered taking their own lives. We fed them drinks, danced with them until they became unsteady, and led them out to the screened-in veranda. They lost their high heels on the way, kissed us in the humid darkness, and then slipped away to throw up demurely in the outside bushes. Some of us held their heads as they vomited, then let them rinse their mouths with beer, after which we got back to kissing again. The girls were monstrous in their formal dresses, each built around a wire cage. Pounds of hair were secured atop their heads. Drunk, and kissing us, or passing out in chairs, they were bound for college, husbands, child-rearing, unhappiness only dimly perceived - bound, in other words, for life. 

Behind Closed Doors #2

I explained Rob Meyers's project in this post. I explained it and included snippets of Phil's room at Bathurst and College. He probably doesn't live there anymore. I haven't seen him in over a year so I wouldn't know. The city isn't big or small. You just have to be where people are, I guess.

Here is snippets of my room around August 2016, photographed not with a disposable camera but a Konica Z-Up 60 that I got from a Bunz trade.

Jordan

PLAYING DIRTY NOT CLEAN

What were the highlights? 

1. NXNE x Belgian Moon party 
2. Seeing Daniel Caesar play an acoustic set at Trinity Bellwoods
3. Spending so much time with Adam, my favourite dude and one of my best friends
4. Wonderland with my girls, even though the wait times were so terrible
5. That bonfire by the highway amongst strangers
6. Spending time with friends
7. Bringing a Tinder boy from Chicago around Toronto for an innocent and fun adventure
8. Getting to 100-yoga classes
9. Discovering Kinton ramen
10. Making new friends 

What would've bumped this summer up a notch? 

1. Travelling anywhere- I had promised myself that I would at least make it to Montreal, but none of that happened
2. A summer romance 
3. A more satisfying job 
4. Always more time on the Islands, especially some time on the clothing optional beach

What sucked? 

1. The heat, the humidity
2. Boys who say one thing and then another; heartbreak 
3. Not enough art
4. Not enough reading

Was it better than last summer?

1. Infinitely. I was pretty depressed about things last summer.

Pictured above: Marcello, Teddy, Christian, Devonte, Eden, Sarah, Mishi, Charlotte, Adam, Will and myself.

Accident Prone 2

August 2016 follow-up to Accident Prone

Photo Collage: July and August 2016

Thankful 1

Boys suck. Relationships suck. I'm not sure what it is about intimacy and intimate relationships that make people lose their decency. Maybe it's the aspect of vulnerability.

I have amazing, amazing people in my life otherwise.

Last night, I met up with Adam to get Bang Bang ice cream. We were meeting at Dundas and Ossington, but he called me and told me he wanted to show me something. When I got to him, he made me close my eyes. He had a surprise for me. He guided me over to the spot so when I opened my eyes, I would see the clear full moon side by side the CN Tower. It was so beautiful.

In that moment, I felt so good and so thankful for the world. For him, one of my best friends, one of the greatest kids I know. For all the love I get, for all the care I'm shown. There are these good things in my life.

How To Destabilize A Man

She

• cancels a date at the last minute and apologizes, but won't give him a reason.
• describes her evening in five words or fewer ("It was really fun"), and then goes straight to bed.
• talks politics with her mouth and sex with her eyes.
• is alarmingly honest and answers "terribly" when asked how she's doing.
• actually forgets to wear a bra in summertime.
• makes an office meeting more exciting by discreetly laying her hand on his thigh.
• settles her scores with scores, instead of talking it through.
• grabs hold of a stranger's arm to walk down the stairs in heels.
• manages to pay the bill before he even asks for it.
• randomly exclaims, "This is the most wonderful day of my life!"

From How To Be Parisian Wherever You Are: Love, Style, and Bad Habits, p. 80.

July Favourites

Is this overdue? From last month:

Green juices - Call me a hippie/yuppie/trash, but I'm a believer. I love green juices. I particularly like the ones with lemon, ginger and cayenne.

Not dating - As I write this, it's only midway through the month but I haven't been on a date this month. I deleted all my dating apps. I go to parties. I meet new people, but only with the intention of making friends, not potential boyfriends. I'm having a lot of fun. It's light hearted. This is different for me and it's good for me.

Note: while I haven't been in a full fledged relationship, I'm used to dating. There are the first dates that don't go anywhere, the flirtations that last longer, and the guys I date for a few months here and there. There's usually some guy in the equation even if it's not really serious. It's refreshing to not. I like meeting new people, I like making new friends. I like spending time by myself, laughing with the friends I have. It feels like time to appreciate the great people and the great things I already have in my life. 

Bonfires - A quintessential part of summer and being young. It's the fiery blazes and the smell of roasting marshmallows and hot dogs. I've been to a couple bonfires so far this summer. There's something to them. I can't complain about anything. It is something that says good about the world and being so young in it.

Canada's Wonderland - OK, not really. We arrived late on a Saturday so it was crowded and we waited an hour for every ride. But I haven't been in 4 years and being there with my best friends was great despite all the waiting. Also, the Behemonth and Leviathan were absolutely heavenly.

Sam James Americanos. 

Sam James Cold Brew. 

Everything I Never Told You by Celeste Ng - Although I won't finish this book until August 3rd, I read most of it in July. The book is from a different time period, a different era almost considering the differences in culture and acceptance. Lydia is the middle child and the favourite of her parents, James, a Chinese man, and Marilyn, a White once-overachieving woman. Lydia drowns in a lake and the family falls apart. The way that it approaches family expectations, interracial relationships, being racialized, being a professional working woman versus a stay-at-home mom... These are all good things, and Celeste Ng approaches them with such a delicate air. I really enjoyed it and I'm trying to convince my best friend to read it so we can discuss it.

Everything I Never Told You by Celeste Ng

The following passage can be found on pp. 192-193:

Sometimes you almost forgot: that you didn't look like everyone else in homeroom or at the drugstore or at the supermarket, you listened to morning announcements or dropped off a roll of film or picked out a carton of eggs and felt like just another someone in the the crowd. Sometimes you didn't think about it at all. And then sometimes you noticed the girl across the aisle watching, the pharmacist watching, the checkout boy watching, and you saw yourself reflected in their stares: incongruous. Catching the eye like a hook. Every time you saw yourself from the outside, the way other people saw you, you remembered all over again. You saw it in the sign at the Peking Express - a cartoon man with a coolie hat, slant eyes, buckteeth, and chopsticks. You saw it in the little boys on the playground, stretching their eyes to slits with their fingers - Chinese - Japanese - look at these - and in the older boys who muttered ching chong ching chong ching as they passed you on the street, just loud enough for you to hear. You saw it when waitresses and policemen and bus drivers spoke slowly to you, in simple words, as if you might not understand. You saw it in photos, yours the only black head of hair in the scene, as if you'd been cut out and pasted in. You thought: Wait, what's she doing there? And then you remembered she was you. You kept your head down and thought about school, or space, or the future, and tried to forget about it. And you did, until it happened again.

Last Thursday with Samuel