Prompted by the radio '93

J'ai vraiment aimé mon séjour à High Park!

J'ai observé tellement de nature, parfois écarlate, parfois insensible à mes désirs.
J'ai regardé plusieurs animaux, incluant: les tamias rayés, les écureuils noirs, les chiens...


J'ai entendu des gens rire! C'était une belle journée ensoleillée, et j'ai vérifié que au moins un téléphone fonctionnait.

J'ai parlé en portugais, mais ça n'était pas des phrases complètes.

Writing is supposed to set me free, so why do I feel so imprisoned?

Always consult a professional!

Source used for information: The Field Guide to Mushrooms, by Marie F. Heerkens (based on Field Book of Common Mushrooms, by William S. Thomas

Photography by: GH ©

Full disclosure: I have not consulted a professional to identify the above mushrooms, and I have not gathered enough information to know if these are edible.

WP: Can I accept where I'm at right now?

This post was inspired by a review of an article published in The Atlantic last week, and since I'm not quite sure how to cite e-mails, and since I'm still recovering from not being a university student anymore, I'm just going to say that Sundays with Sisson is the source and finish this run-on sentence by fully disclosing that I haven't actually read the afore-hotlinked article but that the gist of it is as follows:

• More square feet =/ happiness

I can anecdotally confirm that more square feet (when it comes to real estate) doesn't lead to more happiness. My theory is that the bigger houses we build, the more physically divided we become, and, as such, because there's more space between human beings, we physically become lonelier.

The happiest days of my life were spent living in a tiny closet not unlike the one Harry Potter lived in in the first few books (spoiler alert? if you're from the future, which you are if you read this, Harry Potter is arguably the most influential and popular book series of the 2000s). And those days were happy not because of the square footage, but because of the people I lived with.

Anyway, back on the subject matter: Can I accept where I'm at right now?
The fact that I'm frantically writing all these words out to an empty constellation of internet protocols means that I probably have trouble doing that, but hey: at least I'm thinking about it.

Point being: instead of chasing things that don't matter like incredible deals on plants and the latest screen technologies, I should probably focus my attention on crafting better writing.

And so here I am, and I still refuse to triple check my own writing and the 2nd best thing I can do is attach an image that shows that I'm working on being present:

High Park a few days ago. A natural shade of green canvasses the landscape.

 

Cheerful times ahead! Only a few more days until summertime.

Still just me writing things out, but I'll sign with my new pen name:
Kalleigh

Still riding the Raptors wave

The Toronto Raptors won last week, and people were still celebrating en masse downtown this week, which is a pretty awesome thing to be a part of.

I was listening to the radio, some old classic rock tunes playing through my ears whilst I walked and I wondered where to take my legs next. Were it not for the radio announcer providing me with an update on the local pedestrian traffic downtown, I likely would not have found myself at Yonge & Dundas square next.

There, I sat down in a tired heap and waited for entertainment, and entertained I was, for there were three giant TV screens broadcasting live from Nathan Philips Square, the biggest enclave of Jurrasic parkians to be found in Toronto. The mayor, the premier, and even the prime minister were to be seen smiling at the crown and exchanging pleasant formalities with fans and players alike.

Then, a curious thing happened. An announcer not part of the television broadcasts went up on stage at Yonge & Dundas and told everyone to remain calm, and to please not panic, and that more information would be provided shortly. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary, and for a while nothing was out of the ordinary, save for an eerie feeling of unease caused by the rather vague and disconcerting comments by the official.

Minutes later, screaming - and an sudden rush of people. I felt trapped like a skiier caught in an avalanche, and in a split second had to make a choice: get swallowed up by the human stampede or try my best to get the hell out of dodge.

Well, I got the hell out of dodge with a scraped knee and the avalanche of people subsided. Still in a daze, I looked around at the spot where I had been sitting and there was sticky, sugary garbage everywhere.

I shan't forget the June of this year, the month where the Toronto Raptors basketball team won and caused ripples of energy to cascade. And I'm thankful that unlike some other cities, we don't riot over sports. We party, play, and work hard, and that's how we won the NBA championship.

For 2020: GO LEAFS GO!

Minority 1984: Brave New Sunfarm

How about a minority report type thing, where instead of having precogs try to find out where crime might happen we instead have postcogs who try and locate people who play hooky with work and "re-place" them into their dream careers instead of whatever job they're playing hooky with when they come up with these terrible business plans that I see on the telly.

Losing subjects are terribly malicious when you don't know what to write it makes more sense to write something than nothing and nothing published makes for a very bland blog - so is editing a job that can get taken away by robots?
Grammarly would have you believe that you can get easier writing done when a robot helps you along, but I argue that by not purposefully inserting each letter onto the screen you are practicing a loser's ability, which is to say the ability to assure that each word is correct without worrying about spelling, and spelling is sacred.

Some random mushrooms

2024 edit: This was a freewrite exercise.