As my official title has changed from bright eyed student to unemployed and desperately looking, I can tell you that nothing tastes as good as a free meal. But since I'm not getting too many of those, breakfast for $3.99 comes pretty close.
Today I ventured downtown to a local eatery to have breakfast with my girlfriend. Since she will be traveling to Paris in a few days this will be one of her last chances to eat greasy, fried food before the taste of fresh bread, cheese and street crepes takes over her diet. In an attempt to wrestle with my jealousy, I joined her and was glad I did.
Yes there was plenty of butter, too much bacon (I can't believe I'm writing that) and fried potatoes for miles, but it was delicious. Besides, breakfast is an important meal that gets your metabolism working and your brain firing on all cylinders.
The price was also a draw. I mean how can you go wrong with a $4 meal from a restaurant that doesn't have smiles on the menu or spaceship themed bathrooms? You can't, it's simple logic.
But the price was really just a bonus. Having breakfast with my girlfriend was the best part. Eating meals can sometimes be a lonely endeavor, especially when everyone seems to be at work or traveling to the far reaches of the world. But today I was able to spend some time with someone I love.
So I am grateful for $3.99 breakfasts. I am grateful for the boost it gives me and the delicious nature of home fries and toast. And I am grateful that I could sit down, have some amazing company and enjoy a side of morning sun with my eggs and bacon without it meaning a bounced rent cheque.
Monday, April 30, 2012
Friday, April 27, 2012
#70- My New Phone
Before I explain my new phone, I must first take a minute to eulogize my old phone.
It was a good phone. It was a simple phone. It lasted me three, long years and I enjoyed that it was small and had no ability to access the internet or download apps or even turn on properly sometimes. I mean don't be fooled, it was a reliable phone and was always trusty when I needed to text someone or call a source for an interview (as long as it was a shorter than twenty minutes because that's as long as the battery could last). And despite its duct taped backside and the fact that for the last three months I had to open it gingerly and with surgeon-like precision because the two pieces were hanging together by a thin, thread-like wire, it survived a lot and went through many an adventure snug inside my pocket.
But when I saw it tumble to the floor and break in two, I sunk to my knees, put my head in my hands and did a little mental fist pump because, finally, the last chapter on my old phone had been written.
So a week ago I went to buy a new phone and I discovered that these newfangled smart phones weren't all that evil after all. I tried to act the shrewd business man and seem uninterested in the sly selling points the salesperson was throwing at me, determined to get the best deal I could. I lasted all of two minutes until I folded like a kid in a toy store upon seeing that instead of hitting individual buttons on the screen to text I could simply swipe my fingers across the keyboard to spell words.
In all seriousness though, I walked out of the phone store with not only a new phone, but a reopened gateway to friends, family and the world. I could once again hear my girlfriend's voice and make plans with hometown friends I hadn't seen in weeks or months. I could call my grandmother while I was doing errands to tell her I was coming to visit. I was able to wish my brother good luck on his exams. I could receive the non-existent phone calls offering me a dream job. I was able to spell words like actinomycin and pentangle without even trying. I was connected and life was a little happier.
I know I don't need all these things to stay connected and have a meaningful relationship with people (Believe me, two and a half weeks without a phone will teach you that), but it gives me options and as far as I'm concerned options are never a bad thing when it means more interaction with the people you love.
So I am grateful for my new phone. I am grateful not just for the functions it provides, but the benefits that come with them. I am grateful not only because it adds convenience to my life, but opportunity: the opportunity to talk to people I care about, make connections and achieve goals. And I plan to see what sort of crazy journeys these new opportunities will take me on, with new phone by my side of course.
It was a good phone. It was a simple phone. It lasted me three, long years and I enjoyed that it was small and had no ability to access the internet or download apps or even turn on properly sometimes. I mean don't be fooled, it was a reliable phone and was always trusty when I needed to text someone or call a source for an interview (as long as it was a shorter than twenty minutes because that's as long as the battery could last). And despite its duct taped backside and the fact that for the last three months I had to open it gingerly and with surgeon-like precision because the two pieces were hanging together by a thin, thread-like wire, it survived a lot and went through many an adventure snug inside my pocket.
But when I saw it tumble to the floor and break in two, I sunk to my knees, put my head in my hands and did a little mental fist pump because, finally, the last chapter on my old phone had been written.
So a week ago I went to buy a new phone and I discovered that these newfangled smart phones weren't all that evil after all. I tried to act the shrewd business man and seem uninterested in the sly selling points the salesperson was throwing at me, determined to get the best deal I could. I lasted all of two minutes until I folded like a kid in a toy store upon seeing that instead of hitting individual buttons on the screen to text I could simply swipe my fingers across the keyboard to spell words.
In all seriousness though, I walked out of the phone store with not only a new phone, but a reopened gateway to friends, family and the world. I could once again hear my girlfriend's voice and make plans with hometown friends I hadn't seen in weeks or months. I could call my grandmother while I was doing errands to tell her I was coming to visit. I was able to wish my brother good luck on his exams. I could receive the non-existent phone calls offering me a dream job. I was able to spell words like actinomycin and pentangle without even trying. I was connected and life was a little happier.
I know I don't need all these things to stay connected and have a meaningful relationship with people (Believe me, two and a half weeks without a phone will teach you that), but it gives me options and as far as I'm concerned options are never a bad thing when it means more interaction with the people you love.
So I am grateful for my new phone. I am grateful not just for the functions it provides, but the benefits that come with them. I am grateful not only because it adds convenience to my life, but opportunity: the opportunity to talk to people I care about, make connections and achieve goals. And I plan to see what sort of crazy journeys these new opportunities will take me on, with new phone by my side of course.
Thursday, April 26, 2012
#69- J School
I guess if I'm talking about J-school I should probably start off with a nice, solid lede, one that's punchy, but concise, informative, but engaging, one that's... oh, I guess I already dropped the ball on that one. Oh well.
But seriously, I just finished my undergraduate career eight days ago and J-school is already transforming from the thing I cursed every morning, noon and night while secretly loving it to a word dripping with nostalgia and covered in memories.
As I write this I look around my room at artifacts of my J-school career and it feels like I should be a character in a movie; the old man who wonders into his attic trying to find his cane only to suffer flashbacks of his life when he sees old pictures and such. Heartwarming? Sure. Corny? Definitely.
But I can't help it. I can see the pub crawl shirt in my closet out of the corner of my eye, the very same one that has the names of some of the greatest people I have ever had the honor of calling friends on it (although in barely legible scrawl that can obviously only be attributed to the poor lighting in the pubs).
And there in front of me on my desk is my recorder and microphone, the very same ones that I swore at when they wouldn't work properly and I lost half an interview about the pie industry in Ottawa. But also the same ones that hung by my side during the toughest production days that left me utterly exhausted, but indescribably exhilarated.
And what's that on my desk, an assignment from my political reporting class? Plenty of red ink on it, but a decent mark and, even more importantly, encouraging words from my professor (although even less readable to my eyes than the pub crawl autographs). I can't help but smile and remember the lessons I learned from all my teachers and not just about journalism, but about life too.
Yep, as I look around my room I know two things for sure: I really need to spend a day cleaning it up and I'm really going to miss J-school with all its crazy deadlines, early morning classes, mind numbing post-morts, awesome friends, history-witnessing moments and quiet nights doing what I love most, writing. And I would do it all again, the very same, if I had to.
So I'm grateful for J-school. I'm grateful mostly for the people I have met in it, from my girlfriend, to friends who have shaped my last four years, professors who have molded my brain and sources who have challenged, changed and reaffirmed my perspective on the world. I'm grateful and I'll never forget it, but it's time to move on. Peace out J-school.
-30-
But seriously, I just finished my undergraduate career eight days ago and J-school is already transforming from the thing I cursed every morning, noon and night while secretly loving it to a word dripping with nostalgia and covered in memories.
As I write this I look around my room at artifacts of my J-school career and it feels like I should be a character in a movie; the old man who wonders into his attic trying to find his cane only to suffer flashbacks of his life when he sees old pictures and such. Heartwarming? Sure. Corny? Definitely.
But I can't help it. I can see the pub crawl shirt in my closet out of the corner of my eye, the very same one that has the names of some of the greatest people I have ever had the honor of calling friends on it (although in barely legible scrawl that can obviously only be attributed to the poor lighting in the pubs).
And there in front of me on my desk is my recorder and microphone, the very same ones that I swore at when they wouldn't work properly and I lost half an interview about the pie industry in Ottawa. But also the same ones that hung by my side during the toughest production days that left me utterly exhausted, but indescribably exhilarated.
And what's that on my desk, an assignment from my political reporting class? Plenty of red ink on it, but a decent mark and, even more importantly, encouraging words from my professor (although even less readable to my eyes than the pub crawl autographs). I can't help but smile and remember the lessons I learned from all my teachers and not just about journalism, but about life too.
Yep, as I look around my room I know two things for sure: I really need to spend a day cleaning it up and I'm really going to miss J-school with all its crazy deadlines, early morning classes, mind numbing post-morts, awesome friends, history-witnessing moments and quiet nights doing what I love most, writing. And I would do it all again, the very same, if I had to.
So I'm grateful for J-school. I'm grateful mostly for the people I have met in it, from my girlfriend, to friends who have shaped my last four years, professors who have molded my brain and sources who have challenged, changed and reaffirmed my perspective on the world. I'm grateful and I'll never forget it, but it's time to move on. Peace out J-school.
-30-
Thursday, November 10, 2011
#68- The Singing Bus Driver
It all sounds like the plot of a corny movie from the 1950s.
The happy-go-lucky bus driver who sings on the job is told to button it by city council after years of serenading public transit riders. Of course the public valiantly rallies around the driver with the golden pipes, flooding councillors with letters and emails demanding them to stop the ban.
The happy ending, though, may not be coming. Mayor Jim Watson seems adamant about turning down the driver’s; whose name is Yves Roy, volume.
While it heartens me to see how Ottawa is standing up for Roy, council's decision very sad.
I have had the pleasure of hearing Roy sing on many occasions and on dreary, cold days when riding the bus is the last thing you want to do (which happens often in an Ottawa winter), hearing the crooning driver has brightened my day.
Listening to the joy this man has for his job, for life, for music, is invigorating and I would bet you everything I have that no one could keep a smile off their face after his contagious good spirits hits you on a wave of knee-tapping song.
After seeing videos in the last week of bus drivers swearing at riders and illegally talking on a cell phone while driving, hearing Roy's optimism and passion restores my faith in city drivers and makes me more attentive to the smiles, nods and thank you’s I get every day from OC Transpo employees.
So I am grateful for Yves Roy, the singing bus driver. I am grateful for his joy in life that everyone should strive to achieve. I am grateful for the simple, but hugely important, gift he gives hundreds of people every day with his voice. I am grateful for everything he stands for and for the people who stand for him. So Jim Watson, if you happen to stumble across this post, please don't make Roy stop singing, write the last scene in this movie, make that happy ending.
The happy-go-lucky bus driver who sings on the job is told to button it by city council after years of serenading public transit riders. Of course the public valiantly rallies around the driver with the golden pipes, flooding councillors with letters and emails demanding them to stop the ban.
The happy ending, though, may not be coming. Mayor Jim Watson seems adamant about turning down the driver’s; whose name is Yves Roy, volume.
While it heartens me to see how Ottawa is standing up for Roy, council's decision very sad.
I have had the pleasure of hearing Roy sing on many occasions and on dreary, cold days when riding the bus is the last thing you want to do (which happens often in an Ottawa winter), hearing the crooning driver has brightened my day.
Listening to the joy this man has for his job, for life, for music, is invigorating and I would bet you everything I have that no one could keep a smile off their face after his contagious good spirits hits you on a wave of knee-tapping song.
After seeing videos in the last week of bus drivers swearing at riders and illegally talking on a cell phone while driving, hearing Roy's optimism and passion restores my faith in city drivers and makes me more attentive to the smiles, nods and thank you’s I get every day from OC Transpo employees.
So I am grateful for Yves Roy, the singing bus driver. I am grateful for his joy in life that everyone should strive to achieve. I am grateful for the simple, but hugely important, gift he gives hundreds of people every day with his voice. I am grateful for everything he stands for and for the people who stand for him. So Jim Watson, if you happen to stumble across this post, please don't make Roy stop singing, write the last scene in this movie, make that happy ending.
Saturday, November 5, 2011
#67- Chai
Forget the DeLorean; my nose is the only time machine I need.
My shnozz can take me back to any time or any place. All I need is the smell of something that opens the gate on a memory and the sights, sounds and feel of the some of the best, worst and ordinary times of my life play on the screen in my head.
The smell can be anything, from a whiff of cardboard that makes me think of my summer at the box factory or the harmonious odors of gasoline, tobacco and popcorn that fling me back to my childhood at the Canadian National Exhibition.
Today it was the smell of Kenyan chai.
Chai is the Kiswahili word for tea and when I smelled it wafting through the event I was photographing, my trip to the wonderful East African country of Kenya played itself out like I was there again.
Chai was the morning wakeup call when I was in Kenya. It was there every morning, freshly made from scratch by the Kenyan staff at the camp. The warmth it gave, the energy it instilled, the simple joy it brought was amazing.
Even before those things, came the smell. It was mesmerizing, comforting, even inspiring in a way. Chai was my alarm clock in Kenya (along with the bird that loudly chirped outside my tent every morning) and it signaled a new day in the country I had fallen in love with at first sight. I came to associate the amazing memories I had with chai. The friendships made and strengthened, the lessons learned, the showers missed, the awesome people met. These all came during or after a nice cup of chai.
So I am grateful for chai. I am grateful for taste that leaves my taste buds in awe. I am grateful for its warmth and its comfort and its enchanting smell. I am grateful for the people who grow the ingredients and the people who make the tea. And most of all I am grateful for the way chai can take me back and help me relive some of the best times of my life with some of the greatest people I've ever met and look forward to the day when I can do it all over again.
My shnozz can take me back to any time or any place. All I need is the smell of something that opens the gate on a memory and the sights, sounds and feel of the some of the best, worst and ordinary times of my life play on the screen in my head.
The smell can be anything, from a whiff of cardboard that makes me think of my summer at the box factory or the harmonious odors of gasoline, tobacco and popcorn that fling me back to my childhood at the Canadian National Exhibition.
Today it was the smell of Kenyan chai.
Chai is the Kiswahili word for tea and when I smelled it wafting through the event I was photographing, my trip to the wonderful East African country of Kenya played itself out like I was there again.
Chai was the morning wakeup call when I was in Kenya. It was there every morning, freshly made from scratch by the Kenyan staff at the camp. The warmth it gave, the energy it instilled, the simple joy it brought was amazing.
Even before those things, came the smell. It was mesmerizing, comforting, even inspiring in a way. Chai was my alarm clock in Kenya (along with the bird that loudly chirped outside my tent every morning) and it signaled a new day in the country I had fallen in love with at first sight. I came to associate the amazing memories I had with chai. The friendships made and strengthened, the lessons learned, the showers missed, the awesome people met. These all came during or after a nice cup of chai.
So I am grateful for chai. I am grateful for taste that leaves my taste buds in awe. I am grateful for its warmth and its comfort and its enchanting smell. I am grateful for the people who grow the ingredients and the people who make the tea. And most of all I am grateful for the way chai can take me back and help me relive some of the best times of my life with some of the greatest people I've ever met and look forward to the day when I can do it all over again.
Wednesday, October 26, 2011
#66- Rick Mercer
There's a point in many slap stick movies where the main characters is reduced to a blubbering mess or a dazed out zombie by some overwhelming conflict in their lives. This cues the character's best friend/sidekick/rival-turned-friend to slap the guy or gal in the face to bring them back and ultimately topple the obstacle standing in the way of a happy ending.
Thankfully we have Rick Mercer to be that slap in the face for our country.
I'm thinking mostly about his rants, the minute or two-long monologues he has on his show where he vents about something in society that he thinks isn't quite right.
When youth weren't voting, Mercer made us realize how lucky we are to be able to mark the ballot and that we actually could make a difference.
When the Canadian government refused to name asbestos as a hazardous material, he shamed them for shipping the cancer-causing material to developing nations.
And in the wake of another devastatingly tragic teen suicide he came out and gave us the walloping we needed to hopefully take action.
In his latest rant, Mercer talks about Jamie Hubley, a 15-year old gay boy from Ottawa who took his own life after years of bullying, which mostly targeted his sexuality.
Mercer gets angry, and rightfully so, that this horrible bullying is not only still happening, but appears to go unpunished and urges his fellow Canadians to stand up and do something about it now.
"It's no longer good enough to tell kids who are different that it's going to get better. We have to make it better now," he says, "Every teacher, every student and every adult has to step up to the plate."
"Adults don't need role models, kids do," Mercer says in his rant, ending by saying "300 kids, is 300 too many," talking about the number of kids who commit suicide every year in Canada.
Reading the news stories, it's easy to see how amazing a kid Jamie Hubley was and how devastating a loss it was for everyone who knew him and for a world that needs people like him.
It’s also easy to see that we need to join together and take action now against every form of bullying, especially homophobic language which is so prevalent in hallways and classrooms of schools.
So I am grateful for Rick Mercer. I am grateful that he stands up for those causes and people that many others ignore. I am grateful that he's brave enough to grab millions of people in this country by the shoulders and shake them with the (sometimes) hard truth. And I am grateful that he's there to give us those slaps in the face that we need. Hopefully now we can wake up out of our daze and make this world a better place. I see hundreds of awesome things every day; there’s no way this isn’t possible as long as we work together for good.
See Mercer's video here: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Wh1jNAZHKIw
Thankfully we have Rick Mercer to be that slap in the face for our country.
I'm thinking mostly about his rants, the minute or two-long monologues he has on his show where he vents about something in society that he thinks isn't quite right.
When youth weren't voting, Mercer made us realize how lucky we are to be able to mark the ballot and that we actually could make a difference.
When the Canadian government refused to name asbestos as a hazardous material, he shamed them for shipping the cancer-causing material to developing nations.
And in the wake of another devastatingly tragic teen suicide he came out and gave us the walloping we needed to hopefully take action.
In his latest rant, Mercer talks about Jamie Hubley, a 15-year old gay boy from Ottawa who took his own life after years of bullying, which mostly targeted his sexuality.
Mercer gets angry, and rightfully so, that this horrible bullying is not only still happening, but appears to go unpunished and urges his fellow Canadians to stand up and do something about it now.
"It's no longer good enough to tell kids who are different that it's going to get better. We have to make it better now," he says, "Every teacher, every student and every adult has to step up to the plate."
"Adults don't need role models, kids do," Mercer says in his rant, ending by saying "300 kids, is 300 too many," talking about the number of kids who commit suicide every year in Canada.
Reading the news stories, it's easy to see how amazing a kid Jamie Hubley was and how devastating a loss it was for everyone who knew him and for a world that needs people like him.
It’s also easy to see that we need to join together and take action now against every form of bullying, especially homophobic language which is so prevalent in hallways and classrooms of schools.
So I am grateful for Rick Mercer. I am grateful that he stands up for those causes and people that many others ignore. I am grateful that he's brave enough to grab millions of people in this country by the shoulders and shake them with the (sometimes) hard truth. And I am grateful that he's there to give us those slaps in the face that we need. Hopefully now we can wake up out of our daze and make this world a better place. I see hundreds of awesome things every day; there’s no way this isn’t possible as long as we work together for good.
See Mercer's video here: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Wh1jNAZHKIw
Friday, October 21, 2011
#65- Street Musicians
There couldn't have been a duller start to the afternoon for me.
The skies were grey, the trees were beginning to go bare and I was just beginning an hour and a half round trip to school just to hand in an assignment.
If the people of the street could read my mind, all they would have seen was the word BLAH in caps and 72 size, Times New Roman font.
But suddenly the air was full of rhythm and movement, vivid colours and dreams and passion. It was full of something that blasted away the greyness, defied the blah, attached itself to everyone who walked by and, I'm certain, strolled along with them all say. Even if all those business people and mall shoppers tried to look too busy or too cool, I could them glance at the source of the music, a man playing the saxophone, and smile somewhere deep inside. And so did I.
Street musicians are willing to go out and liven everyone's day, put a little tune in their heads and a jump in their step, without a promise of any sort of return, not a Loonie or a quarter or even a nod from some people. They do it anyways, because the music is just as important as or greater than the desire to be recognized. Doing what makes them happy is payment enough sometimes.
So I am grateful for musicians who bring their talents to the spots outside the mall or the bus stops or crowded city corners. I am grateful for the inspiration and joy for life they give me. I am grateful for the pride they give me in the city where I live and the world I inhabit, because if there are people here that make people happy doing what they love without asking for anything in return, than we're definitely better off than some people think.
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