Where do I even begin? It’s been years since I’ve blogged publicly and consistently so I’m a little rusty at this. But recently, I’ve felt this urge to have another go at blogging for a couple of reasons:
For one, I really need a place to talk (write) shit about people, sans first-hand judgment, who fall into the category of either stupid, rude, obnoxious, frenemy, generally annoying or any combination of the aforementioned. Note that this is a non-exhaustive list of categories. And before you start stoning me like you’re holier than thou and telling me that no human being is perfect (debatable as per google images of Jessica Alba), I just want you to remember that that means every person therefore has the capacity to annoy the shit out of you for one reason or another, and consequently, you will talk, and have talked, shit about these people. Admit it, it’s both entertaining and satisfying to bitch about someone who has rubbed you the wrong way. All of us could use a good vent from time to time. But hey, if you can totally stand your Facebook friend who feels the need to post a photo of her breast pump, or if you can tolerate selfies with an irrelevant song caption plus the hashtag ‘blessed’, then yay you. But I can’t because I am not Taylor Swift – I am neither perfect nor looking to be best friends with the whole world.
Then there’s the fact that I really miss writing about whatever the hell I want to write about. I want to start writing about things that I love again, like food, fashion, design or travel (please note that saying I love these things does not equal me saying I am an expert in them; don’t make illogical leaps). For the past 3 years, I was moonlighting as a masochist in law school so I only authored papers that I wouldn’t otherwise recognize as mine if not for my 9-digit student number on each and every page. I read them now and I’m like, ‘what does that even mean?‘. But now, having finished the most academically grueling chapter of my life, I finally have the chance to satiate my caffeine dependence one perfect cup at a time rather than by the gallons (yes, I used to sleep for less than the amount of time of a female mayfly’s lifespan), and if I feel like it, write all about the single greatest cup of coffee.
I would tell you all about myself, given this is a little ‘about me’ spiel, but that just seems a little contrived at this point, if not short of being self-absorbed… or worse, ‘humble-braggy’ (should probably add this to categories above; humble-braggers are the friggin worst). Instead, I think I’ll just let this little blog grow organically in the hopes that you’ll get to know me and I’ll also get to know myself better. A lot of changes are currently happening in my life now that I am no longer in my 20s and I think it’s a great time as any to start documenting my new experiences and my new perspectives as a 30-something because, HELLOOOO!, I am finally in Carrie Bradshaw and Bridget Jones’ age group aaand general demographic — i.e. unmarried, childless, and unconventionally attractive! Please tell me what in the world can be more exciting than that. So stay tuned.
In the meantime, I shall leave you with my snaps above from the Club Monaco Market. After a long day of sitting at my desk tackling public law, I took the subway for 15 minutes moseyed on to this little place of pop-up heaven on Bloor Street and got myself some well-deserved treats: a perfectly poured flat white from Boxcar Social which reminded me of the impeccable coffee in Sydney (Australia, not Nova Scotia); a decadent caramelita bar from Bake Shoppe (not pictured because hunger, duh); and a mini bunch of locally-grown garden roses from Sweet Woodruff which was a sweet deal at half-price (yay for end of day sale).
still kay. 