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.

There’s nothing worse* than a neighbour playing music or television so that you can barely hear muffled noise or thumps or bass lines, but not loud enough that you can actually make out words.  It’s not bothersome in the way loud music is bothersome because it’s actually in your chest and ears and you can feel the thumping — it’s that little niggling feeling, like a hair attached to your arm that slightly tickles you and makes you feel crazy.

* There are a lot of worse things, actually.  Running into the subway station only to be met by a train slidin’ outta there, and seeing that the next train is coming in 9 minutes (might as well be a CENTURY).  Getting a paper cut in between your fingers.  Getting your bangs cut too short.  Going on a date and really liking the person and not getting texted back by them, ever.  Going on a date and not really liking a person, and getting texted by them right away, so that you have to break it to them because you’re a responsible adult.  Getting overdue fines on library books.  You know, stuff like that.

Life is good and I am very happy.

I have spent the entire week canning non-stop.  I have made seven jars of regular salsa, three jars of peach salsa, three jars of peach preserves, five jars of plum preserves and nine jars of pickles — and I’ve never canned ever before!  I know it’s not a big deal, and I kind of hate it when people my age do something like put a tablecloth and a vase of flowers on a table, or make a fucking stir-fry, and then put in on facebook and say “I am so ~*~dOmEsTiCaTeD!!!~*~  wifey material right here!!!”  We get it.  You can feed yourself.  You can clean.  Congratulations.  BUT, that being said, I still feel pretty proud of this whole canning experience.  I’m just worried that I’m going to open all the plums up in one week and gobble them all up, because that’s all I want to do right now.  I love fruit, you guys.  Can you blame me?




I also re-started school this week and I was so nervous because I wasn’t motivated at all — but holy moly, you guys, nothing brings my motivation back like looking at the syllabus of my 20th Century American Lit course and seeing Frank O’Hara (!!!) on it, or having a lecture in my Sociology of Everyday Life course where we talk about how emotional responses vary in appropriateness given in what culture we are (e.g. it may be okay to cry in public in certain cultures, but others, like our North American culture, sees it as a sign of ‘weakness’ and people are often embarrassed to cry in public).  Get at me, knowledge.

Little things are good too.  I got my bike tires pumped this morning and DID YOU KNOW WHAT A DIFFERENCE FULL TIRES MAKES!?!?  Um, pretty much A WORLD of a difference.  Ridin’ my bike was so smooth and easy today, you guys!  A friend I made a couple years ago in Paris is in Toronto this weekend and I get to play tour-guide and show her around the city.  I bought a whole bunch of posters at my school’s poster sale and now my walls look like the Musee D’Orsay puked all over ‘em.  Van Goghs and Monets and Toulouse-Lautrecs ERRRRRWHERE.  

It’s been incredibly cool and crisp these past couple of days, and it makes the transition from summer life to school life that much sweeter.  I am sure that in a couple months (if not weeks!) I’ll be complaining about how cold it is and how much weight school is piling onto my shoulders, but for now, I’m just super content and happily excited, you guys.

"A one-night stand made you feel as if you had just been invented.  You were with someone who couldn’t quite believe in your existence.  They marvelled over you the way that people marvelled over a brand new baby, where they couldn’t get over you having ten toes and ten fingers.

It was exciting and scary like the first day of elementary school.  There was something so innocent about it.  In longer relationships you end up having to think up all sorts of fantastic fantasies to be excited by the person.  But now, this first night you are enough.  Who really wanted to know themselves?  Instead I could exist happily in this world of first impressions.”

          —- from The Girl Who Was Saturday Night by Heather O’Neill

Brand new garage door art on the west side of Bickford Park.

Brand new garage door art on the west side of Bickford Park.

Annoying things I used to do as a kid that make me cringe:

  1. Play neopets.com (I took it sooo seriously, man.)
  2. Say “thankies”.  Like, actually.  For real.
  3. Collect cat statues and align them on my dresser and dust them every week and think I was really cool.

These are just three things I thought of today while at work but I’m sure there are many, many more.  To be continued.

I can’t count the number of times in a day where I’ll be daydreaming or just making lists in my mind or planning my week in my head as I walk down the street, only to snap back to reality and realize I had the bitchiest, grumble-iest, scowliest face on.

I can’t help it that my face just naturally settles into an angry/frustrated-looking expression while I’m thinking!  But I feel like everyone walking around me on the sidewalk must think I’m a total asshole.  Like, they wouldn’t be totally wrong because I’m definitely an asshole, but come onnnn, facial muscles.  Help a sista out.

I like to think that I am

a savvy consumer and a critical thinker.  I’m smart with money (almost to the point of being cheap and stupid — walking to and from work and school every day this past winter might not have been the best idea when it was -40 degrees, especially since the subway only costs $3…).  I don’t really care about brand names too much.  I think I’m more so concerned with the actual quality of the product rather than who made it, ya know?  I’d like an iPhone (who WOULDN’T) but given the fact that one tiny piece of technology costs more than my rent, I think I’m pretty satisfied with my junky little phone (whose touchscreen is an asshole because it refuses to respond to my fingertips all the time nowadays).

HOWEVER there are some brands that really get to me and I just want their product for no other real reason other than wanting one, like Herschel bags and laptop sleeves.

I don’t know what it is about Herschel bags and laptop sleeves that make me drool, but they do.  I just think they’re dank as fuck and look really neat and professional but still hip and cool at the same time (“hip”???  ”cool”??? am I ninety?  who says these words???) and I JUST WANT ONE.

However, back to the cheapness.  Not really willing to dish out $90 on a backpack; not really willing to dish out $50 on a laptop sleeve.


I was biking to No Frills yesterday and passed a sign advertising a Herschel sample sale.  I’ve never been to a sample sale, but I’ve always pictured them all like this:

But I went anyway and you guys, it was like Christmas in September.  I biked after work and it was hot as the fucking desert and I got a little lost biking long Davenport (WHO KNEW THERE WERE MOUNTAINS IN TORONTO) and so when I arrived I was sweaty and expecting a mob.  But!  Instead!  There were SO MANY BACKPACKS and wallets and sleeves and messenger bags and duffel bags and people were all being polite and making room for each other and everything was so cheap and the employees were really helpful (“Which pattern is better — this one or this one?”  ”The one on the left, for sure.”) and I BOUGHT MYSELF SO MANY THINGZ, one of them being this dope, beautiful, sleek-as-fuck bag:

This one shopping trip cost me the equivalent of two weeks’ worth of tips, but, fuck, that’s what tips are for, man.  Treats like this.  (Also, I should clarify that I’m a barista, not a bartender, so don’t worry, I didn’t clean out the store.)

Anyway, I bought a backpack and two laptop sleeves.  And I know they’re just a backpack and laptop sleeves.  I know that I’m acting like they were selling Canada Goose jackets for $50 a pop, but it just felt really nice to treat myself to something I’ve wanted but held off from for a long time.  Hooray for sample sales!  Hooray for being a savvy shopper!  Not-so-much hooray for being consumeristic and wanting something just for the label, but you know what, I’m 22 and I am so cheap that I re-use my aluminum foil and I walk in -40 degree weather and I water down my almond milk so it lasts longer, so, hey, I am allowed to drool after a label every once in a while.

THAT’S ALL.  That’s the story of the sample sale and my bag and laptop sleeves and how they made me the happiest lil lady today.

Marriage is like a wedding cake.  It takes a lot of effort, but it’s probably really awesome and worth it — but I don’t know, I’ve never been married and I’ve only had one wedding cake in my life so I’m not like a fucking expert or anything.

Marriage is like a circus.  It can be a little crazy at times, but it’s also magical.  Also, you can go get cotton candy.  Also there are colourful lights and loud  music.  Also there are acrobats.  And elephants.  Wait what were we talking about again?

Marriage is like an apple.  Having one a day keeps the doctor away.

HEY GUYS TODAY I LEARNED THAT I AM AWFUL AT ANALOGIES.  And that I probably shouldn’t write my own ‘happy wedding’ cards.  And that I should probably never be hired by Hallmark.  And that I probably shouldn’t compare weddings to stuff when I am running on two hours of sleep.

Hey guys quick poll — who here thinks my brain will ever get its act together and not keep me awake until 3 am when I need to be awake at 5 am the next morning and have a boatload of stuff to do all day long?

Never?  Never ever?  

Alright, cool.  

Welp.  Just gonna zombie it out all day long.  Sooooo spaceeeeeyyyy.

So my very last year of university (hopefully)

is starting in three days and I’m… not that excited about it.

It feels really weird to be not excited for it, because for my entire life, I have spent every single August bursting with excitement, thinking about my outfit for the first day of class and buying pencils and notebooks and thinking of crunchy leaves and cold fingers wrapped around coffee cups and the sound of hundreds of fingers tapping on little laptop keyboards and, most of all, getting excited for that moment that happens every now and then in a good class where a professor brings up something that blows your mind and you feel all rich and enlightened and a little high because knowledge is the fuckin’ bomb.

am, however, so excited for pumpkin spice EVERYTHING that I think I’m going to burst.