Feelin' famous

I guess this is what people in the industry call "a big break".

Read my first scoop which incidentally is my first story to get officially published, my first story to run on the website of a major newspaper and my first story to make it to print. They're all one in the same, folks.

Read the full length article on J-Source: "It's beyond just any broadcast"





The shortened version can also be read on any of the following:

• The Province
• The Vancouver Sun
• The Windsor Star 
• Edmonton Journal
• Montreal Gazette
• Ottawa Citizen
• Leader-Post
• Times Colonist
• Canada.com

Though the story itself wasn't the happiest of tales, I couldn't help but get swept up in the whirlwind of press.

4am before a deadline

Sometimes I just stare at the blank white page,

With it’s stupid stick line, impatiently flashing and waiting for direction,

But offering not assistance at all.

Sometimes I just stare at it, hating that it won’t find the words for me,

Because time’s blinking away, and I need to fill this goddamn page.

…  

Turkey time

Thanksgiving dinner was not always a tradition in my family.

There was once a time when the only exciting thing about my October long weekend was the fact that I didn’t have to go to school on Monday. Oh how times have changed.

After months of subsisting on Kraft Dinner and Nutella sandwiches, the thanksgiving menu comes as more than just a feast for the eyes – and I have learned to come prepared.

I have long since abandoned the fancy attire for thanksgiving dinner. Instead, I arrive prepared to eat, outfitted in stretch pants with the necessary elasta-waist to accommodate obscene amounts of consumption. At my house, thanksgiving is not about looking good, it’s about eating so much that it takes you 364 days to be able to look at another turkey dinner. 

This year, gluttony was taken to a whole new level with a Saturday morning turkey feast followed by Sunday all-you-can-eat sushi and to cap it off, a full Indian spread on Monday. The dining trifecta gave me a food baby with disturbing staying power, but at least I know I’ll be well insulated this winter.

So from my couch to yours, I hope your weekend was one of big bites and full nights.

Happy thanksgiving Canada! 

Scary hot

As a new resident to Canada's perceived capital, I am slowly learning the perks of living in Toronto.

1. The food is phenomenal 

B) There is always something going on 

III. People here are really, really ridiculously good looking 

Yes, on my tour of ethnic food carts and weekend festivals, I could not help but notice how insanely symmetrical the faces in the crowd were. Downtown is filled hotty mchotties who, until now, I thought only existed on the cover of magazines. Now I walk among them. 

These individuals require a classification all their own which my friends and I have termed "scary hot".

Definition: an individual so hot that you cannot look directly at them without having your retinas and self-esteem irreparably scorched. 

I cannot describe this class of super-humans further nor can I provide any photographic evidence because this definition applies to different types of people based on the observer. Regardless, while they say beauty is only skin deep, there are those lucky few whose beauty is blatantly evident all over their scary hot faces. Toronto, I'm talkin' to you.

First day of school

I may not be quite as super stoked as Nemo, but his pre-pubescent voice has been playing in my head all weekend in preparation for today. I'm brushing my anemone, checking my stripes and ready to start a brand new year of academia. Here we go, another "first day of school". 

Happy long weekend!

Since this blog serves as my virtual megaphone, I gotta say: THANK YOU to all of you who read my ramblings, stumble upon my site, or even just glance at the pictures. It means more than you know. You are wonderful.

Now that you're feeling warm and fuzzy inside, pass those feelings on and say something nice to someone this long weekend.

Let the final 3-day summer soak-in begin! 

Packin'

It seems only logical that you must conclude one phase of life before moving on to the next. Moving through these major milestones is often paired with personal reflections. What was important to you? More significantly, what was become important to you?

These are the hard questions that we all have to face when attempting to pack infinite amounts of crap into a very small number of boxes.

What was important to me? Well, I thought I couldn’t get by without my acrylic paint set, knitting equipment, soccer cleats, and family photo albums but nomadic student life has taught me these items are luxuries that I neither have the time or nor the space to accommodate.

What has become important to me? In short: bookstands, slippers, extension chords, and scrubs. Undergrad taught me the value of hands-free academic reading, not being barefoot in a student house, draining maximum electricity out of minimal plugs, and the absolute magic of scrub pants. Essentials redefined.

Now, I am once again folding, squishing, and Tetris-style packing my way to concluding another chapter of my saga. With those final boxes, I am packing away my undergrad, cramming it into my car and moving on to university 2.0, the grad school edition.

Ready or not, Toronto here I come.

Can you hear me now?

Dear cellphone companies of Canada, hear me roar!

Dealing with my cellphone is like combat with what I imagine my future mother in-law to be; difficult and ultimately a battle that I can’t win. From constant technical errors, hidden charges, and laughable customer service centers from (insert Indian accent) “Toronto”; that weight in my purse often translates to a weight on my mind. But these routine conflicts are nothing compared to what I’m now facing. It’s been three years and it’s time to start over.

I am standing on a precipice. One misstep and I’ll be stuck so deep in contract regulations that it’ll take way longer than 127 hours to gnaw my way to freedom. Rather than take the plunge, I considered taking a step back, enjoying a simpler way of life and recovering from the constant perception that my purse/backpack/pocket is vibrating.

I miss the good ol' days when your network just referred
to the tangle of strings connecting you to the other kids
 in the hood.

With my dedication to going retro, I went mobile-free for two weeks while traveling around Amurrica.

NEVER AGAIN.  

While other tourists were taking in the sights, I was constantly on the lookout for a payphone (fun fact: harder to find than a gum-free sidewalk). The salespeople and senior citizens that I asked for directions routinely pitied me and offered me their personal cellphones. One of my charitable donors attributed my ridiculous lack of technology to the fact that “Canada ain’t got cellphones yet”.  Unfortunately sir, we do have cellphones but we also have the super sneaky cellphone conglomerates to match.

Now having returned to Canadia, I have resigned myself to the fact that the next few weeks will involve in-depth research, pitting different companies against each other, and ultimately signing my life away for another three years.

Thank you cellphone companies of Canada. You put the hell in hello. 

Table top advertising

I recently ventured down to the country club of the Caribbean; Bermuda. Ok, so technically it's not in the Caribbean, but let's face it, anything with palm trees, beaches, and "no worries" is considered the Caribbean to us Canadians. 

Somewhere in between tanning, snorkeling, and multiple rum swizzles, I decided to carve my way into a new audience demographic. Welcome Bermuda readers, thanks for stopping by!