Practice makes fucking perfect.

Hello Anger, it’s me again.

The five stages of grief:

1. Denial (I can’t believe this.)
2. Anger (I really can’t fucking believe this.)
3. Bargaining (fucking kill me.)
4. Depression (I really really can’t fucking believe this.)
5. Acceptance (fuck it.)

In the past 3 years, I have become good friends with each stage. The more times you do it, the better you get.

I am so. fucking. over. it.

Might as well get a one way to acceptance, but not before a small layover to visit my friends in depression. We’ll make it quick this time.

Perfect mood for some dark and gothic Anne Hathaway.

Anne Hathaway 3 Anne Hathaway 5 Anne Hathaway 6 Anne Hathaway 7 Anne Hathaway 8 Anne Hathaway Anne Hathaway2 Anne Hathway 4


work life musings.

I always find it strange to think about the frail yet dynamic nature of relationships, for all relationships; not just those reserved for a partner or significant other.

All it takes is a little time, sprinkled with a touch of space and your closest most bosom friend is now just another stranger.  But it works both ways, and I guess that’s where the solace lies.

I give credit where credit is due - thanks JVYN for introducing me to this little piece of gold.

I give credit where credit is due – thanks JVYN for introducing me to this little piece of literature beauty.

05 – Instant Crush

Photographer: Jean-Baptiste Mondino 

Someone asked me once if I get tired of walking around listening to music all day.The truth is, yeah. Sometimes I do.

Realistically? I have small ear holes, and after awhile the ear buds make my ears ache.

But aside from that, no I honestly do not. To me it offers a backdrop that mimics a double-hinged door capable of swinging both ways. On one hand it can serve my mood, whether it be a moment of self-pity or an aimless meander through the city. A fact especially true given that I am free and perfectly capable of picking my own songs. After all, I made the playlist – I can push the door whichever way I want. But then there’s that one moment where you forget that the door swings back, and you’re hit unexpectedly.

This probably just sounds like a load shit, but give it a moment to contextualize. Like any other normal easily impressionable person, shit happens and your emotional cues respond accordingly. In fact, what I’ve come to realize is that somethings are generalizable to the entire population, and it is because of this that people can write love ballads, create rom-coms (romantic comedies for all you abbreviating noobs), or talk about heartbreak in the same “demolishing-the-world-of-kleenex-with-a-tub-of-ben-and-jerrys” way. Everyone rides the love coaster, and everyone’s advice is nearly identical. So when dealing with depressing shit, you plug in to depressing music (cause that’s just what you do, just flip to any montage of any movie where the protagonist is dealing with some sort of epic lost love) – which to me has been ridden with the likes of death cab, the postal service and the XX.

So, you’ve picked your poison. You want to wallow? Go ahead. Push the door in that direction, I mean you’ve perfectly catered your playlist for that exact reason. Just be aware, that when it swings back you’ll get hit with the likes of track 05 – instant crush. And although this song is about some sort of demented love triangle, the name itself and the uppity beat of the song gives you a fleeting reminder of what it was like to have that moment of connection brought on by the slightest inadvertent brush of arm hairs, the childish but not so childish peripheral side stare; or that sudden increase in heart rate when  it feels like you only have five seconds to perfectly (and seemingly effortlessly) craft something both parts intriguing and indifferent to say. This is where you become an overplayed cliche, and know that everything will be okay while hoping it’ll come again: an instant crush.

Do my ears hurt? Yes. But getting hit by that door, damn can it be refreshing.

On a city gallivanting note – my thing this summer has been free outdoor films. Entertainment for those living under the poverty line. I think my love for outdoor films came to fruition during last years open roof festival which was a combination of a local band and a documentary (which is still on by the way). I must also be subconsciously emotionally sadistic in nature, because I have made it my thing to catch the romance themed TIFF in the park series at David Pecaut Square every Wednesday. The selection was just too perfect I couldn’t resist, with the likes of young Cher and Nicholas Cage in “Moonstruck”, the  classic Meg Ryan/Tom Hanks duo in “Sleepless in Seattle” and who could turn down Robert Redford in “The Way We Were”.

FYI: There are free movies playing almost everyday of the week (i.e. Sundays at Christie Pits, every second Friday at the Junction, Tuesdays at Yonge and Dundas). This Wednesday there will be a screening of “Triplets of Belleville” at Harbourfront, which I highly recommend and is a total must see.  Plus it’s pretty sitting outside, and the ambience is always nice.

Donnie Yen on screen @ Reel Asian Film Festival (there is still a free exhibit at the TIFF bell lightbox)

Donnie Yen on screen @ Reel Asian Film Festival (there is still a free exhibit at the TIFF bell lightbox)

Watching a movie with shoes on is so overrated.

Watching a movie with shoes on is so overrated.

TIFF in the park

TIFF in the park + CN tower



“if your not busy being born, your busy dying” – bob 

Fancy meeting you here…

Why hello world, nice to see you again.

I know it’s been a while, but life just caught up with me. It’s been a busy few weeks (months really), but I’m taking this lazy evening to compose a long overdue post. I’ll officially be finished my clinical year soon, in four weeks to be exact. What’s more scary then being released into the real world, with no guaranteed job prospects, is the idea of actually having a job that requires taking on life altering responsibilities without the safety blanket of someone way smarter then me.

But the idea of being a REAL adult… one who has a career, a house, a home, a family, or a “forever” relationship (maybe even a car, or at least a bus pass) – is straight up effing daunting . Allegedly there’s no time stamp on these things, but when the world around you is walking in the same direction (supposedly I am of “that” age), you can’t help but want to follow along. Plus, secretly behind this computer screen I really am just another human subject to implausible romantic comedies. But luckily, the pull of societal expectations does not supersede my drive to ultimately do “whateva tha hell  I wan'”.

I had wanted to say Happy Chinese New Year, when it actually was the advent of the New Year. Unfortunately at the time I was actually studying (seriously, I am not joking). But hey it paid off cause eventually I ended up with 100% and 94% on my two presentations, and yes I am totally bragging. After all, you are your own biggest fan (besides your mom of course). Anyways, better late then never: Happy Belated Chinese New Year!

So in late celebration, I’m highlighting fashion photog Chen Man. I read an interview/article about her last year, and have liked her ever since. Beijing born and raised, this 28 year old fashion photographer aims to combine traditional chinese culture with modernism in her photos. Using 3D-photo-fixer-upper techniques (i have no idea what this would actually be called), she has created her own style and has been featured in many different fashion mags. And here I am, JUST getting started.


Self portrait

Chen Man self portrait on the Great Wall

Excerpts from  A Lover’s Discourse: Fragments:

“Am I in love? –yes, since I am waiting. The other one never waits. Sometimes I want to play the part of the one who doesn’t wait; I try to busy myself elsewhere, to arrive late; but I always lose at this game. Whatever I do, I find myself there, with nothing to do, punctual, even ahead of time. The lover’s fatal identity is precisely this: I am the one who waits.”


“I look for signs, but of what? What is the object of my reading? Is it: am I loved (am I loved no longer, am I still loved)? Is it my future that I am trying to read, deciphering in what is inscribed the announcement of what will happen to me, according to a method which combines palaeography and manticism? Isn’t it rather, all things considered, that I remain suspended on this question, whose answer I tirelessly seek in the others face: What am I worth?”

― Roland Barthes, A Lover’s Discourse: Fragments


Dear world, you know what I’d really like right now? I would really like to sleep.

I have been trying to for the last two hours, and no matter how hard I will my eyes close… I just can’t.

My head hurts, feels like there’s too many things going on right now. Which is crazy.

Cause all I wanna do is dance.

Wait on me: Clara C

Been trying not to be conned
By your sleight of hand
Been trying not to be tricked
By your sleight of hand

But you smile, then you prowl
Then you go for the kill
And you open my eyes
Just to keep me nearsighted
Your waves they are holding
My head by its mouth
Peace flows through my veins
‘Cause I know
I’ll come up for a breath

So wait on me
Wait on me
Wait I’m being tossed to and fro
But I’ll be a polished stone

I, I’ve been broken in
But I sure ain’t been broken down
I, I’ve been broken in
But I sure ain’t been broken down



“You’re entirely bonkers…

… But I’ll tell you a secret: all the best people are.”

If you’re going to fly through the air into a pile of bodies… you might as well look good. (photographer: Nick Knight)

This was never my intention.

Once a month blogging? Never. I had higher ambitions. I definitely thought I’d stamp the cyber world with some meaningful post at least once a week, and by meaningful I don’t mean life changing, I just mean signature.

Alas, life is up to it’s old antics again. And here I am, one month later, writing a long over due post about nothing at all. Shall I bring you up to speed?

Well, hospital life is improving. I realize I don’t hate the job description as much as I hate being a student in clinical placement. I hate kissing ass, and I hate being a constant shadow, a mute follower. Most of all, I hate being judged. Actually I take that back, most of all, I hate kissing ass. 

I recently finished watching the Disney rendition of Alice in Wonderland. As much as everyone hated it, or thought it was bland… I truly liked it. Although it took me three years to finish it (I am unfortunately forced to watch movie’s in part. This ruins the movie, and I usually forget the previous part by the time I watch the next part.), it wasn’t because I found it uninteresting. The featured quote is actually from the movie. I really liked it, and now it sticks as a sticky note on my computer screen. It reminds me that we’re all weird, and it’s not a bad thing. On the other hand, maybe it just makes me feel better for being a weirdo. But for whatever the reason, it’s my new line.

I also have some superfluous test coming up. It’s something ridiculous like six hours long or some other random amount of time. Why? Because my useless academic institution has self-esteem issues and attempts to compensate by flexing their muscles and forcing us to a write a test simply because they can.

But most importantly, I’m holding a charity winter drive. Long story short, I was walking down the street and saw a homeless person on every, single, street corner. It was raining, it was freezing, it was horrible. So, I looked into different shelters, found one that catered directly to women through an organization that I liked and learned that it was underfunded. This Christmas we are collecting winter jackets and boots for the 30 women at this shelter. We are putting together gift bags for them as well, cause seriously… gifts are awesome. No argument possible. With that being said, if anybody has old winter jackets, scarves, boots that they are looking to get rid of… contact me!

(The shelter we are donating to is called Savard’s House, based in Toronto. The organization is Homes First Society, a Toronto group. More information can be found here:

Anyways, in the two minutes I have allocated to free time, I found a new fashion photographer that I like a lot – Nick Knight. He’s not new, just new to me. In fact, he’s been around for awhile and I find that what I like about him is that his fashion photography seems more artistic and different from the usual mainstream editorials.

Having been awake since 5 am (using super ninja basic math skills brings me to a grand total of 19 wakeful hours, and here is also where I throw out a reminder that there are only 24 hours in a day), I’m extremely exhausted. My eyes are half open and I can’t bear to waste another precious minute of potentially amazing deep sleep to think of an eloquent way to conclude this poorly written post. (run on sentence, I know.)

So, until next month.

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