Disposable Project, part II

These are the final photos from the Disposable Project.

The flash on this camera broke and the camera could only be taken out in the sun. With so many things and so few things happening in the past year since these photos were taken (ASUS Formal 2015), photography and creativity have been sitting on the back burner. I haven't forgotten about my personal endeavours and the things I'm still very passionate about, but it's regrettable to say that I haven't been spending as much time as I should on these things.

If I am honest with myself, I don't think I'm happy. I'm not satisfied. I don't know where the self from a year ago thought I would be now, but I can't imagine that this is the place. I feel tired all the time, I feel overworked and suffocated. The exhaustion sinks so deeply that I feel little to no energy to pursue personal projects or creative projects. My life has become a sad routine. The happiness, the joy I feel is brief and far in between. I do not feel overwhelming joy, I do not feel like the bright eyed child I want to become. I am not living the way I want to be living, not achieving the things I want, the feelings and moments I want. I don't feel as if I am living at all.

They have this saying, something like- surviving instead of living, living to work instead of working to live. I don't want to just survive. I would never be happy with survival. My friends have always told me that I'm not someone meant to just survive. Too idealistic, too flighty to merely survive. Imagine the sick dread and disgust at the thought of survival.

Looking at the photos of yesteryear, thinking back to the moments I've had of pure happiness, excitement, ecstasy, I know something has to give. Something has to change. Those like us, we're not meant to live in cages, feet bound, cemented to the ground. Flighty creatures are meant to fly, meant to explore. Something has to give. So, it's time to start imagining a storm brewing.

Pictured above: Mishi, Sammy, Charlotte, Sarah, and myself.

Weekend Reflection

Last weekend I visited Kingston and Queen's University. It's strange to think that I graduated and moved out of Kingston almost a year ago.

The following is the journal entry following my visit, dated March 14th:

The last two months have been hectic and exhausting. I decide I need a break, a refresh. I am in my old university town for the weekend- from Thursday afternoon to Sunday afternoon. I graduated last June, so it hasn't been that long. Everyone thinks the same. Everything is familiar but everything is different. I don't run into any of my friends. I don't see my classmates or friends of friends. Everyone is gone. The fields, the library, the main intersection, the campus coffee shop- everything is the same. I am home, but I am not. This isn't my home anymore. It almost feels like a strange dream. 

I get in on Thursday afternoon. The ride share isn't pleasant, but I'm back in this place where everything looks the same. I sit with my friend at the library for a couple hours while she works on a paper. I grab sushi with one of my old roommates and I tell her everything- all the good, all the bad. She tells me it's like old times again. We go over everything. Friday consists of shopping downtown, Thai food and hanging out with Sarah, her boyfriend and his friends. I miss my friends, I miss my friends, I miss my friends. Saturday is sweet. I go for a short walk because it is beautiful and warm. There are so many girls already in shorts and short dresses. Ellen and I get coffee. We check out the small art gallery attached to the library. After this, Sarah drives us to the movies. We see How to be Single. We have dinner at the campus pub. We order so much food between the four of us that the waitress cannot believe. Saturday night ends when my best friend and I wait for her to get ready and then a beer tasting at a brewery downtown. I don't get back to my weekend home till almost 2 or 3AM. I leave Sunday, so Sunday is slow. We start slow and we sit at the campus coffee shop until my ride is there. 

I encounter all the same things but everything feels different. Everything feels fine and normal until in an instant, I realize, I am reminded that this is not my normal anymore. While everything looks the same, what made this place for me is not here anymore. I am walking by the field and I will not go past it to go to my first year residence, or the building where my last year seminars were. I am sitting on a couch at my friend's boyfriend's place and the jokes being made are not personal (to me, for me). These boys are funny, but they're not my Boys. They're not my friends, not who made these past four years great and safe and home for me. I take a shortcut through the gym to get to the house I lived in for two years. I only do this once. It is not my house anymore. I go into the house and everything is where it is supposed to be- the kitchen, the living room, the dining table, the stairs upstair, et cetera et cetera, but it no longer has that sense of home. It no longer has a sink filled with dirty dishes or drums sitting in the living room. It is not filled with our shouting or our laughing. It is not mine. Not our's. 

This weekend I feel strange and distant from everything because while everything looks the same, I know things are not the same. While they may not have changed drastically, they have changed. I have changed. The people who used to make this place home for me, have also changed. All the the students walk by and everything makes sense. But then something says, "You're not a student anymore." 

I'm not a student anymore. Kingston and Queen's was almost a year ago, but it feels almost like a dream. 

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.

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.

Low-fi Portraiture

I am still in the process of developing a couple of leftover cameras from the Disposable Project. Here are some more gems from my final undergraduate year. There are low-fi, mostly terribly taken pictures of my friends and I.

Pictured in the above are: Ellen, Adam, Jennifer, Mishi, Griffin, Sarah, Evasha and myself. 

Disposable Project

For my final year of my undergraduate degree, I decided to purchase disposable cameras to document this last year. The idea was that I would develop the cameras after the year was over and I'll cry because of how beautiful my friends were, and how happy we looked. The following are some of my favourite shots:

I don't know if you, dear reader, have ever seen How I Met Your Mother (2005-2014), but the opening sequence of the show is a small slideshow of photographs - moments from the gang's time at their local MacLaren's Pub. The photographs are taken with a disposable camera one night at the pub. I want these photos and this project to resemble that. I want to look back at these photos and think of my time with my friends as fun, adventurous and unapologetically innocent.

Youth is the eternal summer, the beer and cheap wine induced smile. The bonafide family of rosy-cheeked friends, made only more beautiful by dim lighting and disposable cameras. Gangly bodies draped by precious clothing and precocious smiles. We drink till 4 in the morning and laugh till 6. A salute to the beautiful girls and dashing boys. 

Pictured in the above are: Tamar, Mishi, Sarah, Charlotte, Sammy, Andrew, Taylor, Shabs, Ross, Ellen, Griffin, Devonte, Nefisa, Sierra and myself.