Geryoneis

My Short Fiction writing instructor at the University of Toronto School of Continuing Studies is literally the only person I’ve encountered in the creative writing industry who:

- is serious, grounded, and does not romanticize the idea of getting your book published
- still maintains a sense of humour alongside the above traits
- does not stigmatize genre fiction or sugarcoat critique.

This is after I’ve attended two library lectures by published authors, a week of intense workshopping that included a professional mentor and guest speakers like the CEO of HarperCollins Canada, and had three additional published authors individually critique my work. And let’s not forget the writing group I attend. I shattered their world of ego-stoking by being too serious about what I do, apparently.

THANK YOU, IBI. YOU ARE SO REFRESHING. ♥

Telling stories involving friends of mine is one of my strong suits, as I’ve been told I have strange friends. Felt like documenting a recent adventure.

PLAN: go to some dive bar called The Communist’s Daughter and drink with my sister and friend-from-a-very-young-age.

METHOD OF TRANSPORT: friend’s dad’s hated Chevy Malibu, Backstreet Boys blasting all the way, parallel parking being a bitch. Notice a sign that reads “EXCESSIVE HORN BLOWING PROHIBITED” near a row of residential houses.

REALITY: Communist bar is super tiny and crowded to the point that we will not fit inside. Different, acceptable pub/restaurant located. Serves an amazing chickpea/jalapeno dip with pita bread and has Erdinger on tap.

I CONSUME: a massive stein of Erdinger, plus half my friend’s beer. In a very short time.

AFTER-PLAN: McDonalds.

METHOD OF TRANSPORT: Getting lost in downtown Toronto in the Chevy Malibu, our music causing a trio of cyclists to burst into song (“I Want It That Way”), and getting stares from passers by. I sing along, inebriated, with vigorous, boy-band-esque gestures.  Switch to The Lion King soundtrack. AYYYYYYYYYYYYSIBRENYAAAAAAAAAAABABABEEEEEESEEEEEBABOHHHHHHHHHHH all the way down Dundas West. We all sing.

ORDER AT MCDONALDS: two coffees, two McDoubles, fries, and nuggets. Making fun of the Filet O Fish advertisements is our primary activity.

Then we went home and planned to play Barbies at a later date. We’re all over 20 years of age.

The end.

child’s play
potpourri
come to me
self admitted
oh, you know
rotting into your pillow

missed opportunity
black and blue
what can i expect to do
bruised all over
and it moves in for the kill
slowly
shredding
and i’m fading

self defeat
has never been so sweet

Disenchantment is probably one of my greatest fears.

I think us young people (i.e. university students & recent grads trying to make something of ourselves) need to stop being so hard on ourselves. Myself included. We don’t know shit and yet cut ourselves no slack.

Most reassuring thing that I heard today: a friend who I admire told me to start taking my own advice, because she learns from me. That is so weird that I have to trust myself via someone else’s validation of my own instincts.

I’m not really one for blogging, but what’s the harm? There are the occasional babbles about my ongoing projects that I want to get out, but I just figure that no one cares, so what’s the point of posting it publicly? At the same time, it’s a bit cathartic to have stream-of-consciousness musings and simply spit it out on my keyboard. And in that case, I don’t particularly care if no one cares. Hm. Let’s try it.

Today I was sure to pick up the new Silversun Pickups album, Neck of the Woods.

Holy shit, this band has outdone themselves. I’m beyond picky when it comes to music, film, art… Experiencing the work literally has to feel like it’s amplifying my soul before I give it any credit. Being catchy is always a plus, but it’s never enough. To be honest, I’ve only listened to the first 6 tracks so far, but that’s been ample for me to say that it may well be the best album I’ll buy this year. Also helping me to churn out the next chapter of Ravaged, which I honestly just DON’T FEEL LIKE writing. Mainly because I have to finish it for my writing group on Thursday and that’s not something I’m really looking forward to. I’ve been to five meetings so far and while I usually come out of it with rants or humourous anecdotes, it’s rarely fulfilling. And I can’t just leave because the people in the group know my bosses, so I’d have to see them at all kinds of literary events anyway. Don’t need any bad blood or awkward dynamics. At least it gives me a deadline for my chapter output.

So, yeah! This was me blogging. Boom.