tuesdays are for poetry

It’s comforting to know that I once sat next to this burgeoning poet of the century for many hours at a time (thanks to exhausting, sometimes delirious production nights for my campus newspaper). Bahar’s words sometimes want to make me weep, smile wistfully, and every single time they stir some sort of emotion I don’t even have words for… hopefully with enough reading I might just be able to put my finger on it.


What would the French language be without accents? Why do accents even exist, aside from the comedic appearance of a hat on top of an assortment of letters? Although I can’t stand here and say to you with a straight face that I’m fluent in the language of love, there’s still an inkling of an answer in my mind: to guide us through the twirls and leaps of each sentence, accentuating the romanticism I envision when someone speaks French.

And how are rooms any different than languages? A room can divulge whole stories to you that otherwise would have remained quiet, because seeing how people choose to surround themselves in a place they identify as home reveals the comforts they can’t live without, be it a single picture frame with a pair of familiar eyes staring back at them, or whole galleries to keep them company.

The details lie in the accents people choose to display, as though they are surrendering bits and pieces of themselves to those allowed in.


A white wall has always seemed to be the perfect, and most literal, blank canvas for a room to show off details that otherwise may have gone unnoticed. Take the vertical row of pegs, all perfectly aligned with the hanging light as if they were pointing our eyes towards it. White walls have always been my weakness for this reason, because they do so while washing the whole room over in what I feel is such purity.

But if you’re like me, this weakness may have shifted. I am proud to announce I have a new unforgivable weakness – a block of colour against a set of white walls that has such depth and moodiness and warmth all at the same time that to sit anywhere in its vicinity I’d feel as though I was in a sea, or a night sky in the last of its hours before the sun rises.


Aside from how charming this little boy looks, and really quite proud with his overwhelmingly large collar extending over his cardigan, the most striking part of this photo is where he is placed. An unconventional placement of artwork is deliberate, bold, and unabashedly inviting.


And so I meet my original weakness again, but this time it’s not the block of colour surprising me but the copper fixture to hang elegant and minimalist garments. If only I had clothes that I didn’t, from time to time, want to hide away from any peaking eyes, including my own. Although, can you really blame me? That sweater with two moth holes from three years ago will definitely be perfect for something. 😉


You know how I can tell this was chosen by a man? Because any real man is never really sick of playing with dinosaurs, even if he pretends it’s just a bookend for visitors. Although, to be fair, as a real-life woman, I wholeheartedly advocate any need for a toy dinosaur in my room. 


Perhaps the most intriguing aspect of choosing all of the special details that give a room a story is that any one detail that may be the feature accent for you won’t be for another. That chalkboard, for most, could be the “accent winner” because it’s obviously the most hilarious way to keep your routine in check, but for my music-lover boyfriend sitting next to me, it’s most likely the pair of headphones waiting to be slipped on just next to it.

Everyone will indulge in a different part of a room if done right. In my opinion, anyway.

What’s a bit of your room you couldn’t do without? For me, it’s a face-off between a summer scarf draped between two hooks as a sort of hippy-dippy headboard, and a poster of a sunlit forest that literally soothes my core with a glance. 




WARNING: You are entering a lost land.

…that I couldn’t bring myself to ignore, nor painstakingly travel through. This metaphorical lost land I’m talking about is otherwise known as my imported blogger posts. See, what I decide to post on here really does mean something to me, and to delete literally hundreds of posts that I’ve accumulated over the years would be a minor tragedy to me. However, they are not the most visually pleasing as of yet because the import made all the photos itty bitty.

Alas, they will be resized eventually. For now, please put on your little people glasses.

Freshman Fifteen: Figment of Our Imagination?

This fall, I joined my university’s newspaper, and so far the good times have been rollin’. Decided I might as well post on here what I write about in the column because it’ll pertain to you lovely folks too.

Currently slouched in my dorm’s wannabe rocking chair, I see the remnants of a KitKat bar and a bag of chips quickly inhaled, a bowl of fruit abandoned behind my laptop’s screen, because let’s be honest, I don’t eat like a normal human being during Frosh Week. This is essentially the essence of what every girl, or boy, fears when entering into university. Even with the mere word, “freshman”, a certain number slyly creeps next to it, waiting on the tip of your tongue. “Fifteen, fifteen, fifteen.” As soon as I utter these two words, “Freshman Fifteen,” the eyes of the adolescent girls nearby light up with sheer horror as if I had mentioned that Canada had just started the Third World War against North Korea, and the Mounties are going on horseback.
See, us girls do not take these apparently inevitable extra pounds lightly. In fact, it’s somewhat of a pact to try and avoid it. Plastered across some of the athletic clubs posters in the booths during Mac Clubsfest was one of their most powerful incentives: “Avoid the Freshman Fifteen!” Just down my hall, one of my friends has devoted herself entirely to rowing, a sport she hasn’t ever dappled in yet alone considered until she saw those words, her savior, her free ticket out, to avoid the terror of gaining fifteen extra pounds.
Others, maybe including myself, maybe not, have adopted a sort of “yolo” or should I say, “yofo”, attitude about it all. The rows upon aisles of not exactly the healthiest options conveniently placed by the cashiers are a source of my quick surrender into its salty goodness. Clever move, centro, clever move.
But can I be real with you for a second?
The Freshman Fifteen, my fellow first year students, is a myth. Now you may have heard this before, and brushed it aside in favour of the adrenaline you can savour amongst girls anxiously talking about it, the tales passed on from mothers and sisters and cousins alike, but it is imperative to know that honestly, you can escape it pretty swiftly because the Freshman Fifteen is in fact the Freshman Five.
There. Breathe. Put down those running shoes for the third workout of the day. Finish that bowl of Honey Nut Cheerios. Pat your wheezing friend on the back. We’re not joining the army, folks. We are not actually in a metaphorical war with our raging hormones and metabolisms in the face of our freshman year. We’re simply exploring the next stage of our lives where every meal hasn’t been planned by mummy hours before you got home from school.
And how do I know this is so? Science, yo. Studies galore. If you even type freshman fifteen into the all-knowing mother of technology known as Google, you will find “myth” and “exaggeration” alongside those menacing words.
Despite its apparent exaggerations however, I took it upon myself to scour the internet for some perfectly reasonable and valid tips to avoid the said Freshman Five all together. And no, it’s not going to be as mind-numbingly simple as saying, “Well, just eat a salad,” because hey, genius, sometimes I’m going to want a burger and you can glare at me all you want, but just because we’re in university doesn’t mean I’m going to adopt the diet of a bunny rabbit to keep off extra weight (as admittedly cute as bunnies are).
1.     One of my newfound buddies had invested in me some wisdom she had heard from one of the wise, wandering upper years. Start your routine as soon as possible and stick to it for two weeks without faltering. Now I admit, I haven’t started this either. But hey, we’ll see eachother at the gym tomorrow, or gracefully gliding through Cootes Paradise like the gazelles we really are. As soon as it’s in your routine, you will – gasp – crave exercise.
2.     Hey you! Don’t leave to class without a breakfast! And a breakfast doesn’t count as a medium coffee from centro. Your metabolism is most likely a lazy fellow, and he’s going to stay in his peaceful, little slumber until you kick start him with some nutrients. Think fruit plates from the salad bar, granola bars at the very least, or even whole grain waffles you can slip into the microwave in your commons room before class, topped with decadent greek yogurt.
3.     The goal is to make your meals look like a rainbow, and no, that doesn’t mean a pizza with black olives and brown mushrooms. That’s a kind of an evil looking rainbow anyway. Who would want to see that streak through the sky? Now that we’re on the mindset of pleasing your metaphorical audience with a meal rainbow, let’s choose something with veggies of all colours, protein in the form of chicken or ham, and some calcium.
4.    Get some buds and join something. Anything. It can be as specific as Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu (who knew?) or Beginner Yoga. Something along the lines of Zumba seems to be quite the craze lately. Do I know what it is exactly? No. Can I tell you now? Yes. It’s “an exhilarating, effective, easy-to-follow, Latin-inspired, calorie-burning dance fitness-party.” Okay, you had me at dance-fitness party.
To get down to the gritty, the freshman fifteen really is just psychological. The campus is not forcing food down your throat, nor is the gym glaring at you every time you walk by it. And hey, bikini season’s over, am I right? It’s sexy winter parka time. Ooh la la!  

Swindoll, you are a wise man.

Exactly what I needed to hear.

“The longer I live, the more I realize the impact of attitude on life. Attitude, to me, is more important than facts. It is more important than the past, the education, the money, than circumstances, than failure, than successes, than what other people think or say or do. It is more important than appearance, giftedness or skill. It will make or break a company… a church… a home. The remarkable thing is we have a choice everyday regarding the attitude we will embrace for that day. We cannot change our past… we cannot change the fact that people will act in a certain way. We cannot change the inevitable. The only thing we can do is play on the one string we have, and that is our attitude. I am convinced that life is 10% what happens to me and 90% of how I react to it. And so it is with you… we are in charge of our attitudes.”  Charles Swindoll

Summer, baby, I forgot how much I loved you.

Well, summer, you took a little too long to get here, but man-oh-man am I excited you’re here. I’ll have you know I prepared quite the list of things we’ll be doing together… to begin with:
That’s right. Wear a bright orange gown and just dance around on the precarious wing of my personal jet. (This can come true in my summer dreams, s’all good.)
1. Dedicate an entire day to listening to/downloading music, making sure that my summer playlist is just top notch quality.
2. Go swimming in vintage apparel, perhaps with some red lipstick on, ya never know.

3. Somehow become as glamorous as Grace Kelly in her darling white bikini. Somehow.
4. Document my summer with disposable cameras – otherwise I can promise you I will never develop them. And maybe, while I’m at it, finish up some photo albums that are just screaming for attention.

5. Play a friendly match of volleyball/badminton with some friends and the fam, which I vow will not turn into what it usually does… an overly competitive death match.
6. Prepare some home made ice cream. 
7. TUBING. My passion in life. 
8. Visit the beach one day a week. After waiting all year long for it, I can’t just go up and pass this beautiful spot for later.
9. Learn the guitar…? Yes. Yes, I will! Learn the guitar.

9. Purchase this piece of property. Honestly, this house was made for the summer. Just saunter out of bed and jump into the pool right outside your window! 

10. Be waken up by the sun, and not my cruel alarm clock which lets out a tireless, shrill ringing bell. Side note, don’t you love all of those lovely patterned blankets and sheets and pillows all toppled over one another? So tempting right about now. 
12. Slip away into a whole other time zone with my best friend and her yacht. (Say yacht and you can’t help but say it like this… or maybe that’s just me. In which case I need help.)
13. Attempt to go fishing again. But not the boring type, the super-jam-packed-intense dock fishing type! You know, where you lower down a hanger wire with some crushed oyster dangling off the edge… I hope you weren’t eating, my apologies.
14. Escape to… wherever this beauty of a place is.

15. Act like a tool and skateboard down a street. It’s inevitable all of the skateboarders will come out to play during the summer time, so I won’t be too out of place.

16. Drift away in an ocean on a calm day like this. Look at this picture, and all stress will simply evaporate away.
Well, folks, I’m glad to be back. This last month just took everything out of me, and there just wasn’t any time for cyberspace. But now I have hours and hours of time and my summer is juuust beginning. Perfect. I’m in a really euphoric mood right about now, this is so strange.
ps. I remember looking at this last year. Who adds in “have a wet t-shirt relay race” seriously? Just when you think you understand the world, that gets slipped into a summer to do list for teens. Woow world wow!! 

Kittens In Bowls!

I really need to brush up on my Japanese some more and figure out what exactly is going on! Essentially the kittens seem to be finding their way into ceramic bowls… while they/we all squeal with excitement at how adorable it is. Some find this kind of thing nauseating, as in just so not cute and more completely ridiculous (I think I’m smack in the middle), so I left a little screenshot to let you all know what is to come… the title wasn’t lying. It is literally kittens in bowls. Nothing less and nothing more! Well maybe except for the kitten who rolled in his bowl. That was huge. 
Here’s the real thing. Skip to 0:24 if you want to get right to the action. This can be considered your “healthy dosage of cuteness” for the month too.

…I know. Adorable/what?!


Simply Dashing

Nothing like a gleaming, golden daschund to make a room a tad more dapper. I’ve always been enamored with these petite and proud dogs. The way they trot alongside their owners never fails to bring out the giddy ten year old in me, and so, if I were to have in one in my very own home, my day would be brightened every time I saw its delightful little face.