I always write about days like this – I don’t know why they affect me so much or what kind of massive intrusion they command in my brain, but they do. Slightly cold, sunny, calm days with cement that sounds like glass under my feet and salt strewn everywhere yet not a snowbank in sight. Days like watching old man’s inner-ear hair wiggle with the movement of the subway down to Bloor, in the crisp sunlight streaming in from those smoothed windows at Rosedale. Days like crisp sunlight, really.
Nothing more than me wanting to be outside, walking, travelling, for as long as the weather holds and my errands list doesn’t run out. There is something that makes me drop into myself downtown, like I travel out of my body here, in the suburbs, and there I am reunited with something I was missing. Mass identity, maybe, or maybe independence. Joie de vivre!
I’ve been seriously looking into moving to Nova Scotia for the summer – I’ve found a few jobs for which to apply, and a few flats to sublet. They seem to match up. Add a bike and a new diet and I’m as good as there, enjoying the sunshine, the solitude, the people – all alone. Maybe it won’t be like anything I imagined, but it doesn’t hurt to try. Maybe I can’t visit Brazil quite yet, or Morocco, or Germany, but this is Canada – and I haven’t even seen anything yet! Isn’t that kind of ridiculous? 12 years and only 2 provinces. And Quebec doesn’t even really count because I don’t think they want to be a province of ours anymore: what a petulant sibling syndrome, oy vey. But really – it seems quite possible, if I just do my research. It’ll also probably take a trip there in February to get everything settled out and all.. but that might be fun. Hopefully this doesn’t backfire on me. Hopefully I can make this work, with my job and school and everything. I have too many things that I want to do going on in my head, too many places, ideas, storylines, emotions. It’s all in there, in that small oval shaped thing sitting on top of my body.
I’ve been climbing from my resting place these past couple of days. It’s a slow trek. Oh! Hold on, I have to go take out the roast.
Okay. Mmm… tasty. I wish I had some leeks to cut up into the mashed potatoes. And sauteed onions would mix in with that so well!
Anyway, sorry I got a little carried away with my food – again. Speaking of food though, I went to Momo Yoma (I think that’s the right spelling) at Steeles and Yonge (the “Yorkville” plaza across from Centrepoint, with that Persian restaurant North as well) on Sunday as a going away lunch for my friend who is going on exchange to Spain for half a year. It was fan-freaking-tastic. Oh man – we got lie 3 complimentary dishes – crunchy noodle soup (I’ve officially converted to this from miso soup), soy beans and ice cream! The waitress was super nice and cordial and we thanked her with our tip (thanks to that though, I am pretty money-less currently).
Today I had to go down to the Russian Consulate downtown, and after I got my passport’s number there my dad had advised me to head down to the Main Toronto Police Division near College and Bay so I could just fill out the form and get it done with. Needless to say – the police in Toronto SUCK BALLS. They were going to charge me 40$ for something that the York Region police just told me they’d do ASAP with a SMILE. Learn from that, suckballs in Toronto. Because not only do you not SERVE, you don’t PROTECT either. Jesus. No pent up anger there, obviously.
ANYWAY, that whole little mini-saga was told because I decided to treat myself to a new restaurant after all of the commotion. I walked by it going to the station, it’s a little modern joint called W Burger Bar on College. Going a la moi, I walked in with my Peruvian, Ugly-Betty-ish sweater and yellow leather bag and requested a table for one. While I caught that twinkle of surprise in the host’s eye, I gave him credit for proceeding smoothly and ushering me to a table where I could watch the kitchen staff scutter about and prepare my food. I had read about this restaurant on blogTO (I think?) and am always up for a new resto downtown, hoping to discover that one true gem. So, there I was. Nothing on the walls, straight-edged black tables placed close together, a la downtown, and waitresses donning light pink (ie. see-through) shirts, black belts, grey skirts and flats ran about with doom and gloom cheer. I realize that’s an oxymoron, but you’d see what I mean if you went there – smiles disappeared at breakneck speeds as soon as their faces were turned away from customers.
However, I didn’t really care. I read. That all I just noticed due to side-glances and walking into the damn place. While I didn’t have the cashola to spring for the expensive Kobe burger that I would have loved to have tried, I also didn’t really feel in the mood for anything super fancy. A Heineken and a Bison Burger later, I was happy and full. I can’t say I was overly impressed with the bison burger, although I loved their homemade chipotle ketchup and the sautéed onions that were my dressings. I just think the bison tastes exactly like beef, except it costs $4 more. Mrah.
This isn’t a restaurant review by any means, but that burger still hit the spot. And I kind of enjoyed having lunch alone. Downtown. It’s kind of… rewarding and calming.
I will try to do that more often.
It’s time for dinner though, and although I probably have more to say (if the internet ever stops me), I should probably put a halt on this whole rambling business. What I should mention is that my boyfriend ended up having his surgery late last night in the emergency room, and while I’m not pleased with the accommodations he was given (uh, none?), I’m at least glad that the main danger is out of the way and he’s at home healing. I brought him loads of candy and several graphic novels to pass the time, although I’m sure his Percocet is helping…. as it has helped many “desperate housewifes” in the past.