I think I am hilarious.

My name is Natalie. I live and study in Toronto.
I really do think I am hilarious. Sorry.
Not Sorry.

Today I told my friend Rachel that I was going to “pull an Oedipus and stab my eyeballs out” but the whole killing your father, bonin’ your mother bit was a bit icky for us both so Rachel did some Google searching to find me a new literature reference to use for whenever I want to say that I feel like stabbin’ my eyeballs out.
Zaleucus it is.  

Today I told my friend Rachel that I was going to “pull an Oedipus and stab my eyeballs out” but the whole killing your father, bonin’ your mother bit was a bit icky for us both so Rachel did some Google searching to find me a new literature reference to use for whenever I want to say that I feel like stabbin’ my eyeballs out.

Zaleucus it is.  

I listened to this song on repeat, non-stop, yesterday during my forty-five minute walk home from work.  Sufjan Stevens is one of those artists who can make any situation feel like a fairy tale.

The deal with “slutty” Halloween costumes.

Every year around Halloween this issue of “slutty” costumes comes up.  I hear a lot of complaints about how girls will wear next to nothing on Halloween, and how stores will turn literally anything into a “slutty” costume, for example:

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I get really bothered about all of this “slut” discourse and honestly, I wish we could all eliminate the word “slut” from our collective vocabulary (along with the words “whore,” “loose,” and “easy”).

First of all, let’s talk about what it is exactly defines a slut.  Seriously, tell me.  What defines a slut?  Is it someone who sleeps with two people in one week?  Three?  Seven?  What’s the cut-off point? 

If you google it, you get some pretty bleak results:

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But even Google can’t tell me that exact number (also the issue of likening a prostitute to a slut is VERY problematic, but that’s a whole other blog post, friends).  So what really seems to define a slut is a woman whose sexuality makes you uncomfortable, which then requires you to slap a loaded label on her.

And not to be the girl who cried misogyny (stole that phrase from Lena Dunham during her interview with Jian Ghomeshi, wuddup!) but there is no male equivalent for the word “slut.”  I’ve never heard someone call a dude a whore, slut, or easy.  We’ve heard this argument time and time again (and yet nothing ever changes), but if a girl is with “a lot” of people (again with the problematic wording!) then she is a slut, but if a dude is with “a lot” of people, then he’s a player.  No negative connotation.

AND FINALLY, WHO CARES WHO YOU SLEEP WITH OR DO ANYTHING WITH?  Hey guys, remember that time that Trudeau was like, “There’s no place for the state in the bedrooms of the nation” and we were all like, “oh, okay, yeah, that is an EXCELLENT point” — why can we not apply that to our every day lives?  Like, actually, guys, who cares?  Why do you care how many people someone has or has not slept with?  Why are you applying your judgement and ‘morals’ to sexual behaviour that has nothing to do with you?

Personally, I think that if you are not hurting yourself or anyone else, you may go right ahead and do whatever you want.  If you want to wear a giraffe costume, go for it.  If you want to put up your Christmas tree in July, go for it.  If you want to wear socks and sandals — I mean, egh, I wouldn’t recommend it, dude, but whatever.  It’s your life.  Those are your feet.  That’s your comfort.  Go for it.  So if you want to put on a short skirt and kitten ears and call yourself a cat on Halloween, WHATEVER.  GO FOR IT.  I LITERALLY DO NOT CARE.  I get to continue living and breathing and existing in this fantastic world and I am not affected one tiny bit by your Halloween costume!

And I think this should extend to our actions and opinions around sex, too.  Sex and human bodies are used to sell almost everything, and yet we live in a society that teaches us to be super ashamed of anything that has to do with our own human bodies and sex (I used to have a roommate who was absolutely mortified every single time she had to buy tampons).  Here’s the deal, though.  I think if you want to go around and explore people’s bodies, that’s cool — just remember to not hurt yourself or hurt others, so just make sure you’re safe and make sure everyone’s on board.  Meaning, like, don’t tell someone you’d like to be in a relationship with them if you only want to sleep with them once and then peace out.  BUT, if you’re like, “hey, I’d just like to have fun,” and if they’re cool with it too, then go for it.  Who cares.  If you have safe sex with one person, or eight, or nine thousand, guess what I get to do?  I get to continue living and breathing and existing in this fantastic world — KIND OF LIKE WHEN YOU PUT ON A “SLUTTY” HALLOWEEN COSTUME.

We need to stop moralizing sex.  If you want to be in a monogamous relationship and if you don’t want to engage in pre-marital sex, cool!  No problem!  Do that, find someone who wants that as well, and hooray!  Everyone is happy!  If you want to go to sex clubs and be in polyamoric relationships, awesome!  Do that instead!

Basically, guys, in the words of my beloved Jay-Z, what you eat don’t make me shit.

We need to stop judging each other for what we wear and who we sleep with.  I think we should all judge each other by how we treat others instead, and how we react in different situations.  Whether or not we apologize when we’ve messed up.  Whether or not we’re compassionate.  Whether or not we’re inclusive.  That is the judge of a good, moral person.  I don’t give a shit whether you ate a turkey sandwich for lunch or if you wore a sexy school girl costume or if you had a threesome last night — literally none of those things define you as a “good” or “bad” person.  But whether or not you got up off your seat when an older gentleman or pregnant lady got on the subway?  Whether or not you were polite to your waiter?  That, I think, is what makes you a good or bad person, you guys.

I feel like this was a bit of a rant-y post, and so, here is a picture of me in a duck costume (featuring my brother in a dragon costume as my co-star).  You’re welcome.

Be nice and respectful to each other, guys.  Happy Halloween.

A couple minutes ago I posted

these pictures of my most dear friends, Jasmine (top picture, short hair) and Tegan (bottom picture, long hair) and it made my heart crumble a little bit.  They both graduated this past June (what jerks) and have left me to fend for myself in the world of academia.  I’m lucky in that Jasmine is still in Toronto and I get to see her every once in a while, but my other friend, Tegan, lives in B.C. and being apart from her is shitty.

And I know, I know — here I am, sitting in my warm, cozy, heated apartment in Toronto with a full tummy writing on my Macbook while I’m getting an education — my life is really good and amazing and I’m happy, but, holy shit, being away from her sucks, you guys.  I am lucky in that I have a lot of good friends in my life, but rarely do you make a friend who you just want to be around and do nothing with.  You just want to sit beside them and type your essay and soak in their presence because they are so warm and loving and being within a five-foot radius of them makes your heart beat a little slower, a little calmer, a little happier.

Yes, there’s skype and phone calls and emails, but there is literally nothing in this fucking world that replicates being in the same room as someone who you love more than yourself and trust enough to tell your darkest secrets to.  She sat with me and held my hand when I got my tattoo and was that one friend I could count on to be down to get poutine at 11pm on any given day.

I miss my buddy.  I miss my other half.

Also, on a side note - that picture of us, in the black tops and colourful leggings?  That was 100% co-ordinated.  The world will forever be our third wheel.

School stopped being fun the minute these two assholes graduated and left me behind.  Blah blah blah, I miss my soul mates, welcome to my dumb and boring blawg.

Gregory Alan Isakov

—Second Chances



"If it weren’t for second chances, we’d all be alone."

I am a firm believer

in the idea that as long as you aren’t hurting yourself or anybody else, you can do whatever the fuck you want.

Today I learned that if you want to be instantly sad, you should listen to the Her soundtrack while doing readings for your Sociology of AIDS course (where you learn about how unjust the world is and how awfully people are stigmatized for things completely out of their control and how governments simply ignored HIV/AIDS and didn’t fund research at all because it was associated with “deviant” groups of people which is bulllllllllshitttttttt.)

Today I learned that if you want to be instantly sad, you should listen to the Her soundtrack while doing readings for your Sociology of AIDS course (where you learn about how unjust the world is and how awfully people are stigmatized for things completely out of their control and how governments simply ignored HIV/AIDS and didn’t fund research at all because it was associated with “deviant” groups of people which is bulllllllllshitttttttt.)

I was working the other day

and this really lovely regular customer came in.  She has red hair that she almost always wears in a pony-tail, and she always gets an almond milk latte.  I like her, because she seems to always be in a good mood and likes to chat a little bit while I steam her almond milk.

We were talking about going on trips and ‘getting away from the city,’ and I mentioned to her how I’m itching to move soon.

She asked me how long I’ve been in the city for, and I told her that it’s been five years.

"I feel like I’m constantly craving change, though," I told her.  "I’ve never stayed in an apartment for over a year, and I’ve never stayed at the same job for over a year, with the exception of the apartment and job I’m in right now — I’ve had both for about a year and a half now."

As I handed her latte over, she told me that she’s been at her apartment for about ten years now, but that she thinks the trick is to get away from the city every once in a while.  Go on vacation.  Disappear for a bit.  Try something new.

I think there’s something really valid in what she’s saying, for most people.  But I kind of get worried sometimes, because I feel like I’m going to be itching for change forever.  I wear things out quickly.  I get excited too fast, I become obsessed, and then I move on.  I do it with people — and maybe you can look at it another way and maybe there is a part of me that leaves people before they can leave me (~*~uh oh we’re gettin’ dEeP today~*~) but I do it with everything else.  I get so into school that I don’t sleep and feel guilty when I’m doing literally anything other than studying, and then I collapse with exhaustion in April — and here I am, last year of university, just done and ready to get out. 

What worries me is that I’ll never be able to settle down.  Am I constantly going to be rushing through things, getting excited very quickly and absorbing everything there is to absorb and then dumping it and walking away?  Will I ever dig my roots deep enough into a city and think, “Yes, okay, I’m good here,” and be able to stay and actually legitimately be content?  Will I ever meet someone that doesn’t bore me to tears after a couple months?

I’ve come to understand and know myself as someone who always needs an escape plan.  I need to know that I can drop everything and walk away if I have to or want to.  Is that healthy, though?  Is it okay to need to know that you can shimmy out of a situation and disappear, if you want to?  I just get scared of locking myself down and missing out on everything there is to experience.  The world is so big and there are so many things I want to do and see and the idea of not living a full life terrifies me.

My point is, well, I don’t know exactly what my point is.  I want to move after I graduate and try living somewhere new.  Why not!  I’m young and healthy and alive and not tied down to anything and can do whatever I want.  When will there ever be another opportunity like this for me to do something scary?  But what scares me more than the idea of moving to a whole other city, on the other coast and in another time zone, (alone and not knowing anyone there!) is that I’ll move somewhere and build a little life and that desire in me to move and start over and try new things will never go away and will eat at me instead, no matter how often I keep changing.