Arriving in Toronto


I flew into Toronto on the 30th of June. I was exhausted and slept through most of it. I’d spent the entirety of the day before not only packing a shell of my life into the suitcase that I’d be living out of for the next two months, but also moving everything I still own out of the house that I own with my ex.

It’s a good thing I was already somewhat interested in minimalism before this all happened. I managed to sell most of my furniture on Kijiji which made the hassle of moving heavy, obnoxious objects someone else’s problem. And I just got to watch and collect a little sum of money. Not a bad trade at all. Only had one issue with Kijiji when a girl showed up to take away two large dresser drawers with a tiny little sedan. I asked her how she proposed to take the dressers in her tiny car, but she assured me she measured and knew it would fit.  Anyone with even a modest level of common sense and logic could tell that this was physically impossible, but nonetheless I got to marvel as she and her equally dimwitted (sorry) boyfriend attempted to fit these dressers into her car, and (of course) fail.

“That’s so weird,” she exclaimed, baffled at her defeat. “I totally thought it would fit!”

That’s because you’re an idiot…

After this experience I sadly began to mention in my ads that everyone had to have adequate transport for the items they wanted prior to coming… I mean you’d think it would be obvious, but apparently it isn’t.


Packing for a trip is pretty stressful on its own, and moving is pretty stressful on its own. Combine the two and, well, you can imagine… I spent half the time lying on my empty living room floor like this… because when I have too much to do I end up overwhelmed and then I do nothing.


Rupert was there to help me out, fortunately. By licking my face and lying around with me. Support from loved ones is essential. To my detriment I’m pretty stubborn and thought I’d move everything out on my own. It took only a few hours for me to crack and finally call my brother to bring an SUV to help me with everything. I managed to move most of the things I wanted to, and left the rest for the ex.

Now normally when I travel I pack extremely light, I’m talking one pair of jeans, one pair of shorts, and maybe 5 tee-shirts. This was a bit different. I needed to pack enough that I could survive a month’s dance intensive, 2-3 months of regular clothes, and anything else I needed on a regular basis. I ended up having to haul all of this on a bus, and through the subway to the distaste of those around me.


And I say distaste because the bus driver was a maniac and would take turns like Mad Max would. Every time a corner came around the suitcases would roll (damn the wheels!) into whoever was around me and I kept laughing to myself over how absurd it was and apologising to the people who were understandably irritated by me. But in fairness, that’s a lot of luggage and I didn’t have a choice, or any help. When I arrived at my subway stop I managed to choose the exit without an elevator or escalator so I had to he-man all of this up four flights of stairs. Again, could I have walked to the other side of the subway station to find an elevator? Maybe. But as I mentioned previously I am stubborn and felt committed to suffering to the end.

So that’s the story of my arrival in Toronto. The first night here was a little rough because of all the residual stress, but the days since have been pretty great. I’m really enjoying the energy of this city so far. I think it’ll be very conducive to writing and creating a new life for myself. Also there’s so much going on. The Fringe Festival has just started and I’ve been to see one show already and am looking forward to seeing more. Headquarters are conveniently located just down the street from my sublet. Tomorrow I start my dance intensive, and at some point I need to start the hunt for dog-friendly downtown apartments.

It’s all happening pretty fast!

How did everyone enjoy the weekend?

Thoughts on breaking up

ouatifilwtwpA little over a month ago I split from my partner of six years. We’ve been together since I was 20 and lived together since I was 21. We’ve shared a bed, a bank account, a mortgage. We’ve shared trips to faraway places. We’ve supported each other through good and bad, we’ve laughed until we cried, we’ve shouted until I cried. We’ve put up with each other’s annoying habits, talked about our days, exchanged absurd and pointless texts when we were bored.  We’ve window-shopped for a ring he’s never going to buy me and we’ve planned a future together that isn’t going to happen.

Because we’re giving up on us… and that’s hard.

I’m not trying to make this out to be a woe-is-me post. Of course there are a lot worse things in life than splitting up with someone. I mean, people are breaking up all the time so there must be something to it, right? I also know there are people who have been together way longer and gotten divorced who would look at this post and go “Just six years? No kids? Pffffft.”

But to me, six years is a very long time. He was my first serious relationship, my first love, my confidante, and above everything— my best friend.

These are just some thoughts on breaking up…

It’s utterly bewildering how someone can go from being everything to you one day, to absolutely nothing the next. 

I mean, really. Breaking up is just plain weird. It’s the strangest thing when you have to morph this person who has been so important to you for so long into just somebody that you used to know (as Gotye would say). The sheer force of will it takes to overpower the instinct to call/text him when something funny or peculiar happens is, in and of itself, a massive feat. Who do I share all the developments of my day with? Who will help me get in and out of particularly challenging yoga poses when I practice at home?  Who do I call when I need a pick-me-up? Not him. I can’t call him anymore just to say hi. I can’t call him to ask how his day is going or what we should have for dinner. I can’t call him to ask him to pick something up from the store on his way home from work. I have to, like, get everything myself now… every time. Man, life is so hard.

For so long he has been the person that I shared everything with, and now he’s not. And that’s bizarre.

My brain is now a war zone for endless, senseless, hyper-active and totally irreconcilable emotions. 

It’s like all these sensations are vying for power in my head Game-of-Thrones-style, and I’m the lowly peasant caught in the cross fire. Everyday somebody new is on the throne and dictating my mindset. It’s a laughable roll of the dice. Will I wake up full of pep and optimism? Will I wake up a miserable, lonely, sobbing mess? A pillar of strength, starry-eyed with dreams and determination? A jaded bitch without trust in anyone? Who knows! But you have to play to win, so keep rolling those dice!

And I do. Every single night.

Letting go of “us” and becoming just “me” is the most devastating, gut-wrenching part.

I’ve expended so much effort trying to make something work that wasn’t going to work. I dedicated so much of my energy and all of my heart to this person because when I committed to forever, I meant it. Realising that forever could end so easily is a possibility that I never allowed myself to consider, and every day has been a struggle to cope with that. To accept it. But I have to let it go. I have to let go of the hope, I have to let go of the dreams, I have to let go of the possibility of a future with the person I intended to grow old with.  Somewhere inside me is this heaping sigh of relief brimming with anticipation to be released. I don’t know that I’m ready to release it just yet, but… hopefully soon.

We are over. We were something once, but we’re not now, and we won’t be later. That’s enough watering dead flowers. Enough wasted tears. I’m covered head to toe in battle wounds that I earned fighting for love. I’ll never regret that, but I guess sometimes love just isn’t enough… and maybe that’s okay.

Not everything works out as we expect. Life’s all about moving forward. We should never regret loving someone. Even if they ended up not being “the one”. You can give a lot of love to someone, and get a lot of love from someone, and the fact that it didn’t last forever doesn’t mean that it wasn’t real, or worth it.

Change is just an opportunity to become a better person, and because of all this I’ve decided to take a leap of faith: I’m moving to Toronto. Actually, I’ve moved to Toronto. As of two days ago. I’m starting a new life, in a new city. And while it’s scary to be on the other side of the country from all my friends and family and everyone I’ve ever known, I’m excited.

It’s time for me to create a new home for myself.

Wish me luck. I think I’ll need it.

Love in Ten Lines

Love was here once
before. A wild love,
taken by love in
stride. Untamed love skipping
across the pond, love
sinking under water, love
drowning. Love caught in
love’s own overwhelming throat.
Love crying, streaming down
cheeks. Love brushed away.

A photo I took while on the road last year. This is pretty Castlegar, BC.

Beautiful Anarette challenged me to write a poem about love in ten lines. You can read hers here! Love is always an interesting subject to write about, and always revealing. Here are the guidelines:

  • Write about love using only 10 lines.
  • Use the word love in every line.
  • Each line can only be 4 words long.
  • Nominate 10 or so others who are up for the challenge.
  • Let them know about the challenge.
  • Title the post, Love in Ten Lines
  • Include a quote about love ( this can be your own)
  • You may write in any language

When you trip over love, it is easy to get up. But when you fall in love, it is impossible to stand again.”

― Albert Einstein

I nominate all of you who are reading this to partake in the challenge. Leave a link to your poems in the comments and share your words!


in hopes once more
a friendly energy
money left on the table
and maybe
a way to make this work

a means of using
tyrannical reserves

to our benefit
a strong defense

take a page from change
in this case,
make it an arrangement
be willing to fail
be broken into pieces

if nothing else,
it could help ease some fears
after so long
because obviously
I’m not to your liking

that’s why
if there’s any room left

all’s well that ends well, right?