I’m back from a lovely hot yoga session with my friend JM.

To be honest, it was a long, dreary day. It was raining, and naturally I didn’t have an umbrella with me. After making it through a shift at the hospital, I wandered woefully into the cruel downtown streets.

My life is in disarray, I lamented to myself. Where am I going? What am I doing with myself?

I noticed a Cultures and ordered myself a frozen yogurt. I perked up a bit, and thought, “Aren’t the little things in life lovely? I’m like a ray of sunshine!” I made it about twenty steps before sinking back into my former state. It was hard staying so cheerful when everyone else was still so miserable from the rain as well. No one was moved by the rain sodden girl with an ice cream cone.

Dejectedly, I headed to King and Bathurst to the Moksha Downtown Yoga Studio for a 1 1/2 hour session. Resting in savasana (corpse pose – aka lying down) in the beginning of my practice, I nearly fell asleep. I got carried away thinking about some things that have been on my mind, and the heat on my skin felt good after being soaked to the bone from the rain. Free to relax and be still, I wanted to angst; I wanted to spend my 90 minutes lamenting over life.

Our instructor arrived, and I stared intently at myself in the mirror. My instructor told me to clear my mind, but I was resolute in defying her. I wanted to think about everything that had been eating away at me. We went into the tree pose, which involves lifting a leg. I couldn’t balance.

The thing about hot yoga is that it really forces you to take care of yourself– it’s very physically demanding, especially compared to “regular” yoga. With hot yoga, I have to make sure I eat properly and drink enough water during the day before my session, or else I get dizzy and want to pass out/commit suicide. There’s no half assing it– I’ve tried desperately chugging a bottle of water right before a practice after not having much during the day, and you can really notice the difference. So, physically, I had prepared myself.

But I forgot. If you’re not focused, you’re going to be a disaster.

My balance is generally pretty good, but today, I just couldn’t do it. I kept thinking too much. My mind wasn’t clear. Wobbling, I thought to myself, Ingrid, get your head in the game.  I started preparing myself for a High School Musical inspired pep talk. I’m serious – a Zac Efron/basketball montage was starting to play in my mind. It’s–

And then I nearly fell over. Embarrassed, I realized I couldn’t afford my ridiculous internal monologue either. My action had to be immediate. It was strange. For the first time in a long time, I was forced to just… get to it. No emotional reaction, no resentment, no thought– I didn’t have time to think, I just had to do it. For once, I had no choice.

During the next hour, my head was actually clear for once. It was really, really nice. After what’s felt like two months of continuous turmoil (mostly because of graduation), I was able to calm down for an hour and to really appreciate that thing that everyone has been telling me to appreciate for ages: the present.

I feel like I have a bit more strength now. Cheers to that.

http://www.mokshayogadowntown.com

They say a picture is worth a thousand words. This is is my friend AC’s fridge: symbolic of the state of our souls.

It’s the last week of school– the last week of my undergraduate degree and there is a good chance I’ve lost my mind. I just checked my mark for my Titus Andronicus paper and managed to wrangle an A-.

Despite this vague mark of intelligence, however, I’ve been a wreck. For example, I’m trying to read Cymbeline right now for my test tomorrow. There was a line: “My lord, your son drew on my master.”

It took me forever to figure out what that meant. I thought to myself, “His son drew on his master? Like, a drawing? Metaphorical drawing?” I finally figured out the line was, obviously, referring to swords and not crayons.

What the hell is going on with me?

This has been going on for about a month now. For example, I was going to go to Starbucks and, in my confusion over which one to go to, ended up looping the entire Southern portion of the Yonge subway line, only to end up at the Bay and Bloor Indigo Starbucks.

I’ve been trying to pump myself up in this last week by blasting High School Musical 3′s “Now or Never.” Zac Efron, move me.

This entry today is basically a melodramatic “Why is the world the way it is?” breakdown. It was probably sparked by the constant, gnawing graduation stress that has been eating my soul. Nothing extreme happened today, but the fact that everything was so mundane is probably what made it that much worse (i.e. foreshadowing the rest of your life).

My day started off pretty well, actually. I woke up tired, but had a good coffee and panini with my friend CT. I finally tried the Chicken Santa Fe sandwich from Starbucks (delicious) and I love the feeling that I get when coffee perks me up. Afterwards, CT and I were walking to class, and he made some joke. I didn’t laugh at first, but then I randomly started to giggle.

He said, “See? At first you think it’s lame, but then you think about it and it’s hilarious.”

I tried to suppress my laughter, and put on a cool smile and lowered my eyes in a casual, flippant manner. My hair was probably fluffed in the process.

“Whatever,” I drawled, lifting my cup of coffee to my cold face. It’s something I do quite often– it feels nice when it’s chilly outside. But as I shot CT a nonchalant, aren’t-you-silly look, a volcano of coffee spewed out of the mouth of the lid and covered the left side of my face.

CT nearly fell onto the road, his face alternating between laughter and amazement, and I started to laugh at my uncontrollably awkward reaction. Then I went to class, and I aced an in-class essay I had been worried about. Things were pretty great so far, even despite the weather.

But then my professor decided to make us watch “L’amant”, based off of Marguerite Duras’ novel. Normally when I watch a traumatizing movie, I’ve been forewarned so that I might brace myself. I had no such preparation for this film, and after witnessing most social taboos in heightened detail for two hours straight, I left feeling disturbed and isolated. It was a good movie, but I was absolutely not in the mood for it.

A few things went downhill from there, and things probably would have been different if the sun had been out. My feet were cold and wet, my body hurt from carrying around my laptop all day, and I was so tired.

I met up with my friend AC for dinner at Whole Foods, and had a laugh here and there. I was essentially trying to power through the day. Some time passed, and I decided to go to my beloved Bay Bloor Indigo Starbucks for another americano. They were handling something behind the bar, and one of the baristas jumped and let something go. It was some sort of item covered in small ants. She looked at me, and instead of freaking out about how that must be some sort of health violation, I smiled sympathetically.

They disposed of whatever the hell it was, and she made my drink.

I asked for soy milk on the bar, and she handed it to me. Hmm, it was brand new and unopened. Usually when that happens, the baristas are super nice, and shake it for me, and warn me that it’s full and that it’s probably going to spill all over the place. Well, no matter. I knew to be careful anyways. I poured it in, and tasted my drink.

It was really weak.

I’m really no coffee expert. Everyone’s always saying how this and that place has great coffee, but honestly, I’m pretty flexible and even I thought that this was bad. After hesitating for a moment, I asked that barista if she could re-make my drink. She paused, and said “Okay” neutrally. I thought to myself, At least she didn’t sound annoyed…

“Sorry,” I offered, and she avoided my eyes and shrugged.

I saw her pour the shot of espresso in, and then she began to fill it up with hot water. To my surprise, she stopped half way and plonked the drink onto the bar.

“Uh…”

I glanced at AC, wondering why on earth she left so much space.

“Should I…?” I looked at AC. AC nodded. “Um, excuse me, could you top it off a little bit?” She stared at me. “Could you add a bit more hot water? It’s…”

She nodded, grabbed my drink, added a second’s worth of hot water before shoving it back at me.

Hey, I’m sure dealing with those bugs was traumatizing, but really? What are you doing? I haven’t had a bad experience at Starbucks in a while, so this was really disappointing.

I’m trying to stay positive anyways. I’ll stop procrastinating now and get back to my essay. It’s always something small and random that lifts me out of crappy times like this.

AC just now: “Ingrid, my brain hurts. It’s telling me to stop putting things in. …That’s what she said.”

I totally lol’ed.

As you can see by now, this entry had nothing to do with the Gorillaz album – I just thought Demon Days sounded cooler than Bad Days. IY out.

The Winter Olympics had me reminiscing about my days in Whistler, so I pulled out my old pictures from last summer. It was then that I stumbled upon this heavenly steak tartare that I once had the pleasure of tasting. Embarrassing part: I can’t remember the restaurant’s name. Horrible of me, I know. But ______’s version of steak tartare is in the Top 5 of the Best Things I’ve Ever Eaten list. They served the dish with these hot, crispy edged starchy cakes made out of deep fried rice, and the contrasting textures and flavors still makes me weep inside a little bit. I’d go as far as to say that’s one of the main reasons I miss Whistler in the first place.

If I’m forced to move aside from the subject of flavor, though, I really liked the plating. In general, I’m very interested in dining, decor, and food styling. We can approach things at random, strictly out of utility, or we can approach things with thoughtful care and passion. I believe that food is so much more than just a necessity. My mother taught me this. Most of my interest, and what I’ve learned, in terms of food was due to her influence. My mom never took any courses on design or cooking. She manages the statistical team at a major pharmaceutical company, so she’s not obviously artistically inclined. But despite her technical and analytical background, she raised me with the belief that everyone can bring a little art into their life. Here are a few of her food styling basics I’d like to share.

The food below is all made by my mother (one or two dishes I’ve specified are by myself), and all the photos were taken by me.

1. Flowers. They’re an obvious way to dress up your dinner table, but there are plenty of ways to add them without blindly stuffing a premixed bouquet into a random vase on your table. I find that sticking to one color is the classiest way to go, and sometimes it’s nice to break down a bouquet and store them in individual little glasses. The tiered pink carnation display was from one of my birthdays. The frame is just stacks of clear plates and glasses; my mother didn’t buy some insane holder. The flowers are also from the supermarket. No fancy florist required!

2. Add height. The chicken breast with the mashed cauliflower on the right is actually my own cooking. See, I learn!

(Left to right: Cheese platter, White wine chicken breast with mashed cauliflower)

3. Simple repetition.

(Left to right: Takoyaki, Caviar on deep fried tofu, Tomato Watermelon salad with basil)

4. Adding a touch of green is probably one of the easiest ways to dress up your food. The seared scallop was made by my mother (obviously I am not that talented), but the okonomiyaki (a Japanese seafood pancake) and the pasta was made by yours truly. It’s interesting how a few pieces of raw vegetable and a brush stroke of sauce can really add something special to your meal.

(Left to right: Seared scallop on pea shoots, Okonomiyaki, Tagliatelle and Meatballs)

5. Interesting plates can really do a lot of the work for you. My mom bought most of her plates from Value Village and random restaurant clearance sales, so you don’t have to run off to Pottery Barn or anything and kill your wallet/self.

(Left to right: Strawberry pavlova, Grilled shrimp and peach salad)

6. Do something unexpected. This is probably the most ambiguous piece of advice, and probably the hardest to follow. Honestly, I don’t think I’m there yet– but I’m assured that with practice I’ll get there. Here are some examples of what I’m talking about. My mother thought of interesting ways to top cupcakes, like taking mini marshmallows and cutting them diagonally to replicate flowers.

(Left to right: Marshmallow cupcakes, White chocolate chip cupcakes, Strawberry brownie cups)

I first heard about snickerdoodles a few years ago from the TV show “Veronica Mars”. Veronica always made Wallace snickerdoodles, and I had no idea what they tasted like. Let’s get this out of the way: snickerdoodles have nothing to do with Snickers bars. They’re basically cinnamon sugar cookies, but then again, I feel criminal underselling them like that. They’re so much better.

The cookies themselves are soft and chewy; something that your teeth can sink wonderfully into. They have a comforting mildness and lack that sophisticated intensity, the kind you might get with a flourless dark chocolate cake. It’s all fine and well to have a decadent treat like that on occasion, decorated with a gooseberry and drizzled with some organic raspberry puree, but sometimes you want something nostalgic and uncomplicated for those rainy days.

I encourage people to make these simply for the pleasure of being able to eat them fresh out of the oven. Not all cookies benefit so much from this, but when snickerdoodles are still warm, their outsides are crisp and spicy with cinnamon while their insides are amazingly light and soft. Not gooey. Soft. Their texture balances out more after they’ve completely cooled, so woe to those who’ve tried my cookies the day after. Just kidding. I still think they’re marvelous cookies, but when I tried them warm, I think I fell in love.

What differentiates these cookies from regular sugar cookies is the cream of tartar used in the recipe. I think that is what rounds out the flavor, and is what brings lightness to the sugar.

I used this recipe from Recipezaar.com. Please enjoy it as much as I have!

Snickerdoodles (24 servings)

Ingredients

• 1 cup butter
• 1 1/2 cups sugar
• 2 large eggs
• 2 3/4 cups all purpose flour
• 2 teaspoons cream of tartar
• 1 teaspoon baking soda
• 1/4 teaspoon salt
• 3 tablespoons sugar
• 3 teaspoons cinnamon

Directions

1. Preheat oven to 350°F
2. Cream the butter and sugar, then mix in the eggs altogether in a large bowl
3. Combine flour, cream of tartar, baking soda and salt in a separate bowl
4. Gradually blend in the dry ingredients into the butter mixture
5. Chill the cookie dough, and chill an ungreased cookie sheet for about 10 minutes in the fridge
6. While your dough is chilling, mix together the 3 tablespoons sugar and 3 teaspoons cinnamon in a small bowl
7. Take the dough out of the fridge, and scoop teaspoon size amounts of dough
8. Roll the balls of dough gently in the cinnamon sugar mixture to coat
9. Place on chilled ungreased cookie sheet, and bake for 10 minutes
10. Remove from pain immediately to a cooling rack.

]]> http://www.iy88blog.com/2010/02/13/snickerdoodles/feed/ 11 http://www.iy88blog.com/2010/02/03/free-business-card-sampler/ http://www.iy88blog.com/2010/02/03/free-business-card-sampler/#comments Thu, 04 Feb 2010 04:28:29 +0000 Ingrid http://www.iy88blog.com/?p=246 Free stuff! I was looking into business cards because I thought it would be a nice touch to add to my job applications. Why Moo.com, you ask? I feel their mission statement best reflects my moral values, and their commitment to the environment– okay, I might have picked them because they had the prettiest website.

A sampler comes with 10 cards, and you can choose their Classic paper or their Eco-friendly paper. I chose Classic which sports a really nice thickness and a matte laminate finish. You can jazz up the text side more with different colors and logos, but clearly I was a bit conservative. Forgive me, for I am new to this.

I wasn’t sure what to put on the back of my cards, so I just chose some sunset shots I took last year. If I had money, I’d hire a graphic designer to make me a cool logo instead. But then again, that might be a bit douchey given my age and student status. Hmmm…

For really cool examples of business cards, take a look here.

—

Notes:

Actually, it’s only free if you get the “Printed by Moo.com” logo on the front of your card. I didn’t want that, so paid the ~$5. Otherwise, it is indeed free with free shipping.

I thought if I was going to blog, I might as well write about the restaurant I’ve been practically living at for the past month. I was vaguely aware of this, but then my friend MK pointed out that I had tweeted about eating there 3 times in the last week…

Hibiscus is located in Kensington market. Just take the westbound streetcar outside College Station, and get off one stop past College & Spadina. Walk down Augusta Ave. and you’ll find it tucked away.

There’s not much to order there. Everyone mostly goes for the Soup & Salad special. Now hold on, this ain’t no romaine affair. I was hesitant too, when my friend GB introduced me. He usually introduces me to cool places, but for some reason I like to go kicking and screaming.

But back on track. Yes, there’s basically just the Soup & Salad special. They have buckwheat crepes as well, but you know what? The Soup & Salad special is so amazing that I have never, ever been tempted to order a crepe. Like I said, this ain’t no romaine affair. What you get with the special is a bowl filled with different piles of all these lovely, lettuce-free superfood salads. Things like quinoa with dried cranberry, sweet potato, marinated broccoli, ginger carrot, or one of my favorites– the soy paste with mushroom. There’s a bunch of other stuff, including grated beets with sesame oil. I’m usually not crazy about beets (I never understood those people who just piled those frightening, fluorescent slices of them onto their plate at the salad bar) but as my friend FM agreed, these are delicious.

Everything is delicious, and even though it’s just a bowl of vegetables, I have never met anyone who wasn’t full afterward. Even my friend CT was full– and he’s a tall, athletic, hungry guy. All the skeptical, burger eating people who have tried the special (including myself) have loved it.

It comes with a mug of the daily soup, which has ranged from butternut squash with beet to ginger carrot. Dip in their raw sunflower seed cracker that comes with your meal, and you’ll be one content son of a bitch.

Was that unnecessary language? I’m sorry, but I feel the need to be a bit aggressive after prattling on about all this flowery health junk.

But seriously, folks, this is a place you can leave feeling good.

A bunch of hippies that were sitting near me once voiced out the thoughts that I was secretly thinking– key point being secretly, as when you say things like this out loud you sound moronic and insane. But to their credit, yes, yes I did feel like all the toxins were leaving my body. I, unfortunately, was unable to match them on their spiritual cleanse…

In general, for this glorious year of 2010, I’ve been trying to stay on a bit of a health kick. Gone are my days of frozen dinners (although those cheese cannellonis seriously aren’t bad). I’ve been drinking water, eating real vegetables, and I’ve finally replaced sugar and maple syrup with agave nectar.

What the hell is agave nectar? Well, it’s this natural sweetener derived from the agave plant, and it’s supposed to be better for you. I think it’s because it’s sweeter than sugar, and thus you need less? Regardless, it’ll be a gentler calorie count, and it doesn’t have any scary side effects like aspartame. Usually, when we substitute something for something healthier, we’ve downgraded. This is not the case. I actually prefer agave nectar in my oatmeal now. It’s a lighter, cleaner taste than both sugar and maple syrup, without losing sweetness.

I feel like Gwyneth Paltrow. What the hell am I doing, touting agave? I’ve become Vanessa’s douchebag mother from Gossip Girl (“I only use agave”). But you know what? It’s pretty cool when you can find healthy things that don’t secretly sort of suck, like Hibiscus and agave nectar.

Not that I always treat my body like a temple. Sometimes, after popping all those omega-3′s and slow cooking all that oatmeal, a girl needs to eat something disgusting and awesome. Buffalo wings are a favorite. I don’t need a million different flavors– I’ll always be a Duff’s girl at heart. Last night I dropped by St. Louis’ for some hot wings with my friend MV after the Tegan & Sara concert at Massey Hall. Which brings me to a point Tegan raised on stage: when you tweet (or in this case, blog) about something, is it a form of bragging?

Things to consider.

——

Notes:

Hibiscus (416) 364-6183
238 Augusta Ave.
Toronto, ON
M5T 2L7

Closed on Sunday. Open Monday to Saturday, and you have to get in the door by 6ish as they close at 7.

Also, try their ice cream. They’re all non-dairy, but I’d stick to one of their three coconut flavors: coconut mango, coconut blueberry, or coconut raspberry. Seriously, so amazing. I tried a regular flavor that wasn’t made with coconut puree, and it tasted like newspaper. Like the stuff you expect health food to taste like.

*The picture of the food from Hibiscus is mine, but I stole the store front from yelp.ca, and the agave picture from Thursday’s Girl.

For those of you who were lucky enough to be at the Yonge & Bloor station during rush hour this morning, you may have noticed 2 TTC workers handing out pieces of paper & happily greeting people. What were on those pieces of paper?? They were double sided COLOUR notices to ‘Please move to the end of the platform to improve service’ (let’s forget that ‘electrical/signal problems’ have nothing to do with improved service). The backside of this flyer showing a MAP of the platform, with coloured arrows indicating the direction in which you should move down (you know, in case you haven’t taken the train at Yonge St. since 1954 and have no idea what a platform looks like). WHAT I FAIL TO UNDERSTAND– is how they can afford to employ people to hand out a bajillion (colour) copies of notices that I guarantee no one gave a rats ass about — but are wondering why they are constantly falling into deficit. MY POINT IS: perhaps instead of fare hikes every few years, an external audit of the TTC’s UNNECESSARY expenses is needed. Rant Over.

I’m sure that all of you can draw your own conclusions. I, however, am a pinnacle of serenity and shall not comment. I would like to make a few unruffled and even-tempered observations about today, though. Some of these were observed first hand, and others were stories told by friends who had been stranded downtown.

• Apparently, a boy asked a Special Constable how the shuttle buses worked. The Constable replied by saying, “Diesel. 6 Engine.” The boy said that’s not what he meant. The Constable said, “I figured.”
• To maintain a balanced perspective, I will preface this point by stating that it was very chaotic at the shuttle bus terminal. However, TTC employees were controlling the number of people boarding the buses. There weren’t that many buses at the time, and yet the TTC told people to stop boarding when the middle of the bus still had tons of room. I felt like I was in Titanic, when they weren’t maximizing the number of people who could go on the lifeboats. I, myself, was late meeting a professor. A PROFESSOR PYR(*#PYurh;oiWHFIFJ:SKLFJ—
• My friend SG walked into the station and saw tons of people leaving. He figured something was wrong, and asked a TTC employee if the subway was working. “You think?” was the reply. SG replied, “Well, I haven’t heard anything, I just got here.” The employee replied, “There’s been announcements all afternoon.” “…I just got here.”

But whatever. I am cool as a cucumber. I totally don’t mind all of that, it’s like, totally huh-law-rious. In fact, I will even end with a tiny anecdote about something good that happened on the TTC!!!

You know how people tend to slow down a lot once they get into the doors? Well, those stupid door chimes were going, and this dude was just getting into the doors while I was behind him. I was all like, “Noooooo whyyyyy” but then he SPED UP. HE SPED UP REALLY QUICKLY as he heard the chimes and I had so much room to get in. He was awesome. I wanted to give him a badge or something, or be like “Fifty points to Gryffindor!”

Going to Hogwarts would be sick.

Me? My Myers-Briggs profile says that I’m more concerned with my direct environment and how it fits into my belief system. I guess that’s correct, since my actions are not as impressive on a global scale.

Some of you might know about my TTC story that happened a few years ago.*

A man was sitting, holding up his phone. It looked like it was pointed at a little boy sitting near him, and it sounded an awful lot like there were pictures being taken. And it didn’t help that the little boy’s mother looked frightened, trying to block his face with her arms without causing too much of a scene. She either spoke little or no English.

I didn’t want to assume what that man was doing, despite how horrifically obvious it seemed. What if i was wrong? What if he was just playing with his phone? So, after consulting my friend, we casually stepped in between the little boy and the camera’s lens.

The man started to swear, and mutter for us to move out of the way. He never directly addressed us, it was just frightening monologue.

I turned around eventually and said as calmly as possible, “Sir, would you stop swearing?”

I pointed out that he was in public, and that there was a child nearby. And the argument began. All he did was swear over and over again–no words, no defense, just angry profanity.

I was scared, and my hands were literally shaking. I’ve never felt fear like I did that day.

We arrived at Yonge and Bloor station, and everyone got off of the train.

As a different young man left the subway car, he sympathetically looked at me and said, “It’s not worth it.” He quickly walked off, not waiting for my reaction. I felt disgust. Not to enforce stereotypes, but as a much smaller female, I was expecting this active young man to be the one stepping up to the plate–not me. Looking back, I would like to assume that he wasn’t aware that the man had been taking pictures of the child. I hope that he assumed I was just some nosy girl who was yelling at a man who had the guilty pleasure of saying the F word once in a while.

But despite the anger I felt at this young man, I can look back now and understand why he said what he did. If the criminal had pulled out a weapon at me–if he had hurt me, I too would have considered: was it worth it?

But we can’t always be good at our convenience. I’m obviously not suggesting that a good act is only worth reward if our lives are at risk, but we can’t only be good when it requires very little of us.

Even for myself– this TTC story was ages ago. But these things keep happening. I understand that life is tough; bad things happen to good people. That’s just the way it is, I suppose. And we have to look out for ourselves, right? Like that young man had been implying, it might not be worth it. But what is the balance between looking out for ourselves, and watching dumbly as someone gets punched in the face? My co-worker told me a story about her friend, and how a store full of people watched a man randomly assault her. Luckily, when she ran outside of the store to chase the man, another guy helped her catch him. We hear about those stories all the time, don’t we? Especially in foreign countries, we hear about women being sexually assaulted while people walk by with their heads turned. But that stuff isn’t just part of that crazy world outside of our own ‘civilized’ one, it happens in our world as well.

So how much courage are we expected to display? How much bravery is appropriate?

I really don’t know. I’m not asking this from some moral high ground. That incident on the subway was a one time thing. I really don’t know if i could do it again, it was terrifying. And if I had been alone, if I hadn’t been with a friend, what would have happened then? As a person raised in a city, I find that we often pride ourselves on being tough as nails, and coolly indifferent to everything. Things just don’t phase us like they do those country bumpkins!

I guess you can see the point I’m getting towards, regarding the need for a balance.

There are different scales of being good, and different lengths in which we must extend ourselves for each type. In different places, a different degree of ‘being good’ is expected. We are expected to recycle. We are expected to donate to charity once in a while. But then we move from expectation to suggestion. It would be good if we could travel overseas to help the needy. I have the great honor of knowing many friends who have gone overseas to provide aid, but I myself have not. What does that mean? And then we reach the work place, where we no longer have suggestion, but something a little more complicated. The social system at the work place is a unique one. There are many instances in which what is good and deserved is not always recognized, due to the needs of the business. And this business of “being good” doesn’t get any easier in our personal lives. How many times have you been put in the middle of a difficult position between two friends? And you’re unable to act, because it’s not really your place or business–you just happen to be caught up in everything? What about when you witness a crime, and there’s not much time to react. What do you do?

Whenever these subjects come up, there’s often two extreme opposing parties: Those who believe that it is not your duty to save the world, and those who believe that you must always take the opportunity to “do good.” I see validity in both arguments, which is what gives me a headache.

Well, that’s enough for a Monday morning. Cheers to having a good week!

*The TTC is Toronto’s public transporation system, for my US friends.

This is a little embarassing, but I guess I’m trying to keep myself honest.

Recently, I decided to test out the theory, and see if “everything is on YouTube.” It really, really is. I was actually so shocked that this video was actually up, online.

In Grade 7, my school entered a competition held by the government. By virtue of being one of the few ethnic people at an upper middle class school, I got to be the star/victim of the video. Yes, that’s me being awkwardly knocked around. We happened to win first place. It was pretty cool and we were flown to Ottawa to accept an award. I guess I still had some of my star power at that age (I somehow managed to end up in calendars, operas, and banking commercials when I was younger. However, now that I am at an age where I might enjoy such opportunities instead of being completely bewildered by them, they are nonexistent).

One of the younger girls was so impressed by my acting during the shoot that she asked if I was actually crying at the end. This reminds me of the time I had to make a movie for class in Grade 9, where I pretended to be drunk, and my teacher asked me if I actually was. These comments continued in Grade 11, when he interrupted my Visine-crying scene in a group skit with unapologetic laughter, saying that I should be in a soap opera.

By the way, that is not me singing.