Friday, February 17

Becoming an adult in six simple steps


Number one: you start to think about laundry detergent options - either the expensive plastic cubes with everything included or the huge packs, but if you go with the packs you'd have to buy three. there you go, already forgetting that your body is your body, and that you are in it. remember when you used to write stories?

Number two: all of a sudden there's a lot less time for the art you always thought you'd be making. instead there are leases to sign and volunteer meetings to half heartedly attend. your emails become more blunt as you stop including "Thank you so much for your time" at the end of them. time is funny, it doesn't feel as if you turned eighteen three months ago.

Number three: the weeks finally start to understand your agenda, they shake themselves awake and quicken their pace. CVs are a painful thing for you now. you say "Have a good weekend" on Tuesdays.

Number four: how much does a dustpan-thing cost at Dollarama vs. at Pharmaprix? everything you told yourself you'd never really end up doing? you're doing: including buying that god-awful gym membership and frowning when people laugh in the library.
you look at the unstamped boxes on your gym card. you compare them to the smoothness of your face and you know which one of the two will stay unstamped.

Number five: you start to hurt for the complicated meals which you used to eat while talking talking talking. back home, there were no such loaded terms like white privilege, islamophobia, heteronormativity. the world could be talked about quite easily.
here, you watch your tongue, watch it bleed, bite it till it bleeds, watch the space in between your knees, watch your mouth, on the metro, look rested but not superior, not aggressive, not bitchfaced, not flirtatious, your face isn't the bouncy thing it used to be.

Number six: now your shell is almost completely hardened, there is one more thing to do: it is time to dread the nostalgia you will feel in ten years when reflecting on the person you are right. now.


Wednesday, December 21

people x places

Amelle calls it being "out of time". Final exams have finished and here we are feeling out of time. I am finished with the first half of my first year at university. There is a tiny blue ice-skate stamp on my hand from yesterday. (Amid all the 2016 presidential-Aleppo-Berlin mess, I write about me yet again.) I'm kind of embarrassed to say that while others around the world have suffered so much these past few months, I have found all these forms of fulfillment. And it wasn't even unnatural growth, but small incremental growth.

PEOPLE

There's Mackenzie, her hair is dipped into green. There's Silas and his soft way of looking at the world. There's Diana and the tattoos and loud snorts. There's Si Ran - she'll offer advice in a goofy way, while still managing to stay genuine. There's Alix and the afro-beats she'll blast when she's taking a shower, for all of residence to hear. There's Bowen, the quiet kid who is in engineering, who is so much more than the quiet kid in engineering. There's Saskia and Evalena and their conversations about feminist intersectionalism and pipelines and the rhetorical situation of Bitzer. There's Eden and her cynical humour and doodles of planets. And then there is Amelle. Amelle is sitting next to me at the moment, she is drawing in her journal and we are listening to "the city is my church", a playlist Kat made me. Surrounded by all these people, it's kind of hard to feel the loneliness and disconnectedness I felt six months ago.

PLACES

I thought my sense of orientation would get better in Montreal. It didn't. My mind is full of disjointed places. The Corona Theatre with the DJ girl who was way up there. The fresh bagel place, where the cream cheese came in tiny tubs. Poisson noir, the small underground dance apartment we went to on my eighteenth birthday two weeks ago. Panthère verte, the fast-food vegan place which has the best hummus in Montréal. The late-night dépanneur on St-Mathieu. The library, the Hall building, the chapel in residence where people go to study. The cafeterias and the awful top 10 charts music playing in a loop there!


I've done so much. But now, I feel like curling up on my bed and it being dark and warm. And not really reflecting, or projecting just being. 

Tuesday, November 29

orange pressée

Check out the Tumblr I birthed. All of it is stuff I created OR stuff that I haven't made but that has meant a lot to me over the past year / month / week / DAY. To know whether the work is mine or not, click on "sources" and then on the particular piece. I have chosen to only upload content (properly sourced), instead of reblogging (#in search of a truer Tumblr experience).

















Also, I have updated the "inspo" and "elsewhere" link up on here, if you'd like to have a browse.

(I'll be eighteen in less than two weeks, what?!)