I celebrated Pride this year by styling three outfits in the colours of the bi flag, sharing them on Instagram, and discussing queer issues in each post's caption. I touched on topics such as the intersection of Black and queer politics, bi erasure, and coming...
My partner and I spent an amazing, beautiful, fun week in Cancun from January 9th - January 16th, 2020. I know it was a good trip because I started full on crying the day we had to leave. I also know it was a good...
**Update: I made this into a video and read it aloud, if you want to hear the jokes from an actual human voice. The essay remains below!**
I recently got PRK surgery done on my left eye (yup, just the left). While prepping for it, I read approximately one million "My PRK Experience" blog posts, and I wanted to write my own for a couple reasons:
I haven't read any blog posts about getting just one eye done.
I thought it would be funny.
This seems better than me telling people I had laser eye surgery done, and them going, "like Lasik?" And me going, "haha yeah I got Laser Eyes," and them being confused, and me being like:
I hate glasses, I hate the way I look in them, I hate the way they press against the bridge of my nose, I hate how disgustingly dirty they get without me even noticing, I hate how many germs probably just hang out on them, having a goddamn party an inch away from my eyeballs.
This is why I typically wore contacts. Well, contact. Only one of my eyes needs a corrective lens. I diligently wore monthly contacts in my left eye for years. And I was careful with them, because I’ve read those freaky articles about flesh-eating amoebas devouring people’s corneas because they left their contacts in too long, and I have anxiety issues. I never slept in them, I kept them clean, and you know what? They were still a massive pain in the ass.
The tipping point: three times in two weeks, my contact fell out of my eye because my eye was so dry. Do you know how much monthly contacts cost? A six-pack of monthly contacts is, like, sixty bucks. So I literally cried out thirty hard-earned dollars. I was crying money. Enough was enough.
This was what compelled me to get expensive, excruciatingly painful elective surgery.
My boyfriend and I just got back from Las Vegas, where we clowned around for a week (as one does). As usual I made a silly vlog about it. Here are some photos, too, which can be broken down into a few categories...
On today's episode of Attempting to Fall Back in Love with the Place I Was Born and Raised but Have Spent Too Long in and Am Now Desperate to Move Away from but Can't as I Am in University: documenting my favourite hideous architectural style,...
[caption id="attachment_412" align="alignnone" width="3264"] I watched live jazz and drank wine at the top floor bar in the Royal Ontario Museum? Wtf? Amazing???[/caption]
After spending three weeks in Montréal in June, I carried on to Toronto for three weeks in July. I arrived on an overnight Megabus totally exhausted from A) the deadly heatwave that began during my last few days in MTL, and B) finishing up reading My Friend Leonard on the bus and CRYING. I was out of it and missing home and not sure how up for Toronto I really was, even though I knew from my last trip that I loved it there.
Well, I looked up from my book as the bus pulled into downtown, and the excitement and love came rushing back to me. I fucking love Toronto. I don't even know what it is about it. I just fucking love this city so much. And I had a STELLAR month pretending I actually live there, getting to know the place like the back of my hand, treating my damn self, and making new friends. This trip really solidified my goal of moving there in a few years. AHHHHHH.
In June I spent three weeks living in Montréal, Québec, in the Plâteau apartment of my good friend Charles (where I stayed the last time I visited the city, actually).
While I can't honestly say that it's my favourite Canadian city (I love the hustle of Toronto too much, sue me), there really is no place quite like Montréal. Caught between Francophone Québecois culture and the predominantly Anglophone culture of the rest of Canada, the city has developed a very singular identity, and it has a lot to say for itself, which it does through a huge arts and culture scene. I'm glad to have spent a month essentially just living there, really getting to know the city properly, pretending to be a local.