I'm back from the great white north and back to my old habits of drinking wine on a Friday night and watching an ANTM marathon. Thank god. My parents are major health freaks and keep saying something about cigarettes and exercise. I don't remember exactly.
Home was great. It's funny, I thought I could never live anywhere else, but now Toronto seems kind of foreign to me. It made me very sad, because my best friend and my sister both live in my old neighbourhood and they know all the good sandwich places and I really feel like life is going on without me. Queen St., which used to be the mini-Williamsburg of Toronto is now filled with glossy Zara storefronts and there's a whole new minimall that popped up across from my parents' street in the burbs. Well, minimalls do pop up I haven't been home for a year, but still. And today, when I was perspiring on the F train in 62 degree weather with some old woman giving me dirty looks because I was trying to share her pole, I felt pangs for the TTC. This picture was taken at around 11pm on a weekend. Sigh.
I'll just continue on with my nomadic lifestyle, I guess. Maybe in a few years I'll look back at Brooklyn, from my perch in the hippest neighbourhood on Mars, and think it's way over.
Yay Caridee! Go on with your crackhead self.
2 comments:
You and your shoes. I swear. Get some help.
Good for people to know.
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