Archive | February, 2011

Breakfast.

16 Feb

Breakfast is quite possibly my favourite meal of the day. I love the fellowship of dinner, and the casual atmosphere of lunch, but there’s something about breakfast that is just really special. First of all, it can happen almost any time (considering when you wake up, and what you’re having) and it can be almost anything from cereal to leftover lasagne. I also think that breakfast says a lot about the upcoming day or the previous night.

There’s breakfast-for-dinner, always a comforting choice. There’s leftovers-for-breakfast, some of my personal favourites being pizza, lasagne and chocolate cake. Although, as a general rule anything Italian and anything dessert makes for a good breakfast. (this, of course, makes tiramisu an excellent choice). There is forbidden sugar cereal, paired with TVO on Saturday mornings, and there is classic peanut butter on toast.

Growing up there was the muffin-in-the-car breakfast that defined my hectic highschool days, happylaughing-french-toast, which my mom would make whenever my parent’s university friends stayed over, the pancakes-after-church that symbolized Sundays spent at home, the white-bread-with-real-butter-and-homemade-strawberry-jam that used to mean I had spent the night at my grandparent’s, and those mini cereal boxes of frosted flakes that my mom would only buy as a special treat for family road trips.

These days there’s stale-pizza-from-the-night-before (which we usually leave on the floor right in between our two beds so that neither of us have to move in order to obtain nourishment when we finally wake up), there’s Cora’s-with-the-girls, there’s nothing-but-coffee during my 8:30 class, and there’s a BLT on those glorious mornings when the caf has bacon.

Camp Ponacka in the Morning.

I’ve had some really great breakfasts in my life.

I can remember once when my family stayed at Mark and Carol’s house (Mark and my dad were roommates in university and so were Carol and my mom) Carol was making pancakes, but ran out of regular flour and had to use whole wheat. Turns out whole wheat pancakes taste amazing. Mark and Carol can always be counted on for great conversation, and I remember spending that morning hearing stories of the crazy things my parents did in their youth while drinking some really yummy juice (which Carol also made).

After prom I went to my cottage for the weekend. I remember early on that last morning, we took one look around the messy cottage and decided to take our (still warm) raspberry turnovers to the beach where we sat and enjoyed a quiet, relaxing meal, reminiscing about the whirlwind of events and the roller coaster ride of emotions of that weekend.

I remember breakfasts in Italy of crescents and coffee. Every morning, crescents and coffee… but they were the best crescents, dusted with icing sugar, and the richest coffee. I would never get tired of it.

When we were little we would make breakfast in bed for my parents. However, after a few mornings of carefully carrying cheerios and orange juice up the stairs it dawned upon us that they would probably prefer something more interesting. My approach to this was to turn the food into art, using danishes as flowers and cutting fruit, cheese and toast into all kinds of shapes to create my masterpieces. Spencer’s solution was to perform songs while my parents ate, and Alex’s approach was truly… well, it was something. He would drench rice crispies in chocolate sauce, then sprinkle on some blackberries and proudly present it to Mum and Dad. Seeking their shocked faces he would say “But you LOVE chocolate! and blackberries

love Breakfast. I love mornings. Quiet early mornings, rushed weekday mornings, soft summer mornings, magical snowday mornings, late sleepy mornings, loud Christmas mornings, happy mornings.

Algonquin in the Morning.

If, for some reason, you are still reading this particularly long post you are probably wondering what on earth the point of all this is. This week I had three very different breakfasts, which I would like to tell you about.

The first breakfast was Friday morning. After staying up very late, I woke up very early to finish an essay for my Shakespeare class, that I had left ’till the last minute. I sat, exhausted at a small table in the corner of the caf eating cornflakes, drinking coffee and feeling… tired, a little hopeless, and kind of stupid for letting this happen. I finished the essay just in time, but then had some seriously frustrating printer issues that resulted in me wasting both paper and time. Somehow I managed to make it to class just in time.

The second breakfast also happened on Friday morning (What’s better than breakfast? TWO breakfasts!). You see, I got to class (barely late) to see that the only free chair was in the very front row, and had to struggle past everyone else, trying to be as inconspicuous as possible. Now, as much as I love good old Shakespeare, I was not in the mood to talk about King Lear for two hours. This wasn’t the day to be discussing gauged out eyes or lying sisters. I took my seat and prepared to suffer. But then, my professor said the most amazing thing. “Most of you look like you’ve been up all night trying to finish this paper, so why don’t we just cancel class today?”.

Most days I might be mildly excited by this, maybe even a little disappointed, but on this particular morning I was deliriously happy. I walked back to res with a triumphant smile on my face, planning to run straight into my friend Caileigh’s room to tell her about my good luck. However, my stomach rumbled, and I decided to stop at the caf first to grab a bagel. Stepping in the door, who did I see but Caileigh, sitting at a crowded table full of some of my favourite people I’ve met this year.

They were eating breakfast.

I told them my story and then loaded up my plate for a much happier breakfast. I was planning on using the cancelled class time to get some reading done, but ended up sitting at that table for almost two hours just talking. As much as I needed to catch up on some reading, relaxing with people I love was really the right thing for me to be doing. I needed some chill time.

The third breakfast was very different from the other two. It happened on Saturday. Madeleine was in Toronto for the weekend, so I had the room to myself. Most of the time, I love living in a place where I am always with friends. It certainly deprives you of alone time though. I woke up on Saturday feeling like I needed to have some time away from the world. I brought breakfast back to my room along with a copy of the latest IMPRINT (our student newspaper). I realized that I also use my computer way to much. So I closed my laptop, put on some Mumford and Sons and dove into my blissfuly private meal.

my new family

7 Feb

I sit here I smell the residue of coffee on my sweatshirt, hair, and the  skin of my finger’s. I smile because it’s something that has become familiar and ordinary. Sure, the job was a mind boggling change and a little different then I had expected it to be. But now I welcome the residue it leaves on my extremities, it’s something I can count on and something that has become part of me. Besides the smell… I have so much fun there because I can be myself, and I am pushed to be me, to dwell in and enjoy who I am.

There exists moments when I feel alone, friends who have dispersed, and friends that aren’t really friends. but despite, I have been given beautiful moments with seriously some cool and  strange strangers. and my awesome buckers family.

While sometimes these moments are, honestly, quite shallow. But others… it’s almost as if, there are times where you become old friends with someone you will have 5 minutes of your life with. You both share something with the other, because there is no pressure, and really, there is nothing to lose.

I have learned so much about myself while working here, I am pushed to be out there, exciting, engaging, and fun and I LOVE it. Everything is so much better with partners who are striving to be these things. And besides that, I have been able to open up and also have confidence in me. I have learned the importance to be REAL with people, to engage and to value whomever comes rolling in – too look people in the eye and genuinely care about what they have to say. I have had some of the coolest most inspiring conversations – no matter how ordinary and short they may be.

While it might sound sad to some people, I honestly love my job – for the sole fact I get to smile into so many different people’s lives and I get to share the workplace with some freakin’ cool people who are now my second family!

Mark is a tall dark and handsome aspiring actor who is hilarious to work with and always lightens up any stressful situation. I always enjoy his reassuring smile and easy going personality.

Cassie and I have hilarious times together, we laugh probably too often in front of strangers who seem a little bit hesitant as to why there are tears in our eyes.

April was very intimidating at first, but she turned out to be a girl with a huge heart. Her southern accent seeping into conversation makes me smile.

Vincent is the most peaceful person I have ever met. He inspires me to be at rest, and to enjoy any moment that I am given. The atmosphere transforms when he is around, both the customers and the employees can all feel it.

And all the rest of em… I can’t imagine my life without every single one of them!

P.S. Here’s a cool quote I heard recently….

“It’s odd how day by day nothing changes, but pretty soon, everything’s different.”

I Need a Hug

2 Feb

“I read about how you touched them and they were healed
Or even if someone just touched your cloak they were forever changed
You let a broken women bathe your feet in her tears
And you washed your best friend’s feet
I am just wondering though did you just ever hug people

I mean I know that it is a silly question and all I am sure you would have why wouldn’t you
But its one of those things that was never mentioned that got me thinking about it

And how whenever there was a touch from you sins were forgiven and sickness fell
I think I’m caught up in my sins last time I checked all my body parts were properly working, nothing special here
I am just a kid with a heavy heart these passing sunrises and sunsets

I don’t think our encounter would have ended up in the gospels or anything
Because all I really need is a hug
That is ok for me to imagine right
That’s not going to be conflicting with any sort of theology is it
Ok good, then hug me

But not one of these side ways one arm around the neck type hugs
Or the ghetto right hand clasp fists elbows to chest pit pat on the back back
Or you put your right arm over my right arm and I put my left arm over your left arm and we make this weird sort of diagonal thing
Nah none of those

BEAR HUG ME MAN
Take your old school carpenter arms and throw them over my upper body leaving my arms dangling underneath yours somewhere and I can barely move them because your squeezing so hard
But don’t pick me up and make my back pop because I hate it when people do that

And hold me, hold me here in your arms until I start to cry because
I WANT TO CRY
But I just can’t seem to do it on my own
I have been teary eyed once recently but not even enough for a drip down my cheek
Theres just hurt in my soul that needs to be purged so hold me in this hold pose until the pain is flowing from my eyes and nose”

-Bradley Hathaway