The Windsor Complex
My bitterly complicated relationship with America stems from growing up in Windsor, Ontario.
Nightclub Revelations
Last New Year’s Eve, I made the trek with some friends to a club in downtown Kitchener. Being comfortable amongst the university crowd, I felt slightly tense wandering around in foreign territory.
Aotearoa
I think about William Wordsworth most when I’m laying lethargically across my couch, staring aimlessly into a bright television set. I suppose it should affect me differently; like when I’m trekking across a beach to spot a colony of yellow-eyed penguins, or silently gazing up at the Southern Cross.
Violence Without Borders
Traveling, to some, is a desired escape from the mundane tribulations of everyday life. It’s the picture of sandy white beaches, a lively resort that takes care of every detail so you can focus on relaxation.
Pulling Back Oz’s Curtain
It was nothing short of magic when Dorothy, with just the click of her ruby slippers, returned home from Oz. Over half a century later, we may not have the technology for teleportation, but with one click of a button we can send emails, pictures and even talk to our loved ones at home face-to-face via Skype.
Faith, Film, and Funerals
No matter how many classic movies I watch in a weekend, reality finds a way of catching up with me; an email reminding me of an appointment, a deadline that approaches without warning, or a sudden phone call that informs me that my grandfather has passed away. That’s the unfortunate thing about reality – rarely is music played to foreshadow tragedy.
Meditations for the Modern Man
On Friday nights I become a cliché, sipping pinot grigio and lustfully losing myself in…
Fashion as Fetish
My parents have desperately tried to instill in me the value of a dollar. I wouldn’t necessarily say they failed; I just have a very different idea of value and worth. Spending hundreds of dollars on a pair of Burberry flats to me seems reasonable and worth every hard-earned penny, when objectively, the shoes are probably only worth twenty dollars and have a redeemable value of even less.
The Art of Happiness
Two Buddhist monks walk past me as I anxiously clutch my Gucci leather satchel, waiting for his holiness the 14th Dalai Lama to take the Rogers Center stage. Observing the simplicity of the other audience members in their robes and clothing free of visible brand names, I feel like a walking cliché. While others are meditating, I’m thinking about how when this event is done, I desperately need to go buy some black leather over-the-knee boots.
Magic for Madness
The first therapist I ever visited was Dr. Felbaum. I was twelve.
On our first session, I sat in a comfy, oversized chair but didn’t allow myself to sink too deeply into it. He asked me what was wrong, so I told him. I told him I was afraid to leave my house, afraid to be around crowds of people, afraid of bad things happening, afraid of being sad.
To Walk On The Hawk
One of the most pivotal moments in life is the realization that you can actually have a say in the way it plays out. Up until that blessed eighteenth birthday we are children; constantly being told what to wear, when to be home and what we should do with our lives. While we may resent our parent’s over-protectiveness and endlessly struggle to bask in the glory our own independence, it is that little direction which often keeps us sane.
My Broken Biological Clock
There’s something disturbing about children. Perhaps it’s their pudgy faces, smothered with ice cream and selfishness, or perhaps it’s their freedom from responsibility and reality that unsettles me. While many women may listen religiously to their biological clocks and blush with maternal instinct, I remain unsettled and unwaveringly opposed to motherhood.
The Root of the Problem
What’s the root of the problem?
And where, can I find a solution?
The appetite of global hunger
can be satisfied by a dive
into the underwater caves of
Eastern Mexico.
The Big Rooted Tree
In my elementary school playground
there was a great, glorious tree.
I dubbed it ‘The Big Rooted Tree’.
Seven Months and Counting
Marilla: “You’re not eating anything?”
Anne: “I can’t. I’m in the depths of despair. Can you eat when you are in the depths of despair?”
On the Quest for Immortality
I built myself a coffin,
somewhere in my mind,
though being trapped for all eternity,
will only add to my condition…
