dusk on the naberezhnaya

I’m back from Russia (for 2 days already, today is the day Real Life starts again, but not really because I have no pressing need to venture outside) and I’m in a strange state. Happy of course, but still learning that I only need one space after a period, so that’s bumming me out a little bit.

As I lounge around my house like I did before I left, catching up on old TV shows before I realize I’ve been wilfully procrastinating ergo making life more difficult for myself ergo bumming myself out on purpose, I realize that there is something missing.

All of the cued posts that I had lined up in Google Reader I end up skimming over – the ones that look long, saving for later (always later) – and don’t bother with looking, in a frantic thirsty manner, for more photographs, pictures, things that tell me a story in .2 seconds. I don’t want to read anything unless it’s new, and that happens because I read a lot and I get overwhelmed sometimes, but it’s different because I’ve come back from a 2 week-long hiatus from thinking, so to speak, except that it didn’t really feel like a vacation, but a kind of strange alternate universe that I wasn’t really sure I was really living in, but at the same time was convinced with because I had all these tasks lined up in the back of my head for when I came back which made it real but unreal because I didn’t want to come back to a whole brain-load full of work.

I’m not sure that sentence made sense, but I feel so rushed, even in breathing, that I don’t want to go and read it over – I don’t even want to delete any words or look over to see if anything makes sense because that takes time, that takes editing and thought and I am kind of tired of thinking, kind of tired of rushing my breath. I want to hibernate.

In short, because I will forget everything later even though I kept a diary, it was quiet. No clubs, no strange European excursions and (thank Universal Forces) no churches – although they were everywhere and beautiful. I wanted to go to spend some time with my grandparents, and I don’t think I even did enough of that for the 2 weeks I was there. My stomach didn’t agree with me and that made the first week very house-ridden and TV-watching. That’s okay, I heard Gilmore Girls in Russian though, so that was exciting.

I bought some things – not a lot because my concept of money has changed in a 180 degrees sort of manner since I was a teenager (more on this later!) – but nice things. Tall black suede winter boots with a delicious feminine ad comfortable heel, and a long and gauzy brick-coloured skirt that I am positively in love with. I also stole lots of things from my grandmother, it was like vintage shopping for free, and also my favourite part. A few sweaters, jewellery, a bag whose identical replica I saw in a store for $100.  Just so I remember (although it doesn’t matter). I came back with scarves, black and white pictures and souvenirs for my friends.

I came back knowing 3 stations of the Moscow subway (Lyubianka, Kitai’ Gorod, and Taganka) and a belly full of Azeri food. I realized that the same great-uncle that used to whisper me stories during afternoon siestas in the hammock at my great grandmothers cottage, now doesn’t know how to act around me. I realized I hate people who flaunt money but personally love fur coats (they look so elegant when the whole town is adorned with them!)

I realized that I love tea and discussions surrounding the process like pillow-forts of thought. I don’t like smoking, handed from a second or otherwise.

I decided that I need to write more – for the past 6 months I’ve been on a strange run of not writing, and I can’t be okay with that anymore. It’s eating its way out from inside, and I’m not a masochist. Apart from that, I was spoiled rotten by my boyfriend for our 3rd anniversary (which I missed!) when I got back. With THIS. Oh baby. I smell it all the time and sometimes rub it against my face while whispering really dirty things.

I’m a lucky girl in many ways – but I have to keep remembering that I need to do only as much as I’m capable of at a time. I don’t need my future laid out in my palm at every second of every day just so I can take a step forward. I need to take steps forward regardless, time has taken care of that for me.

Speaking of which, my internship at TalentEgg ended abruptly – due to company reforms and as sad as I am about it (I loved working there, and everything I was learning was incredible and I love the company itself) I know that they’re doing what’s best and that’s great. And I’m happy for them and so so glad that I’m on good terms with them.

But I’ve been procrastinating for a good many hours and now it’s about time I bid you “dasveedanya” and begin… things.

March will not be pleasant but it is only 30 31 days.

A

passport to freezing

Good eve, lovelies.

doesn't toronto seem warm now? yeah.

Just wanted to bid the Canadian internet adieu, since I am flying off to Russia for 2 weeks tomorrow.  And, well, from what I remember about Russian internet via my grandparents apartment, it is much less kind, young, or fast. So, while I’m taking Sebastian with me (my macbook), I can’t take my quick WiFi with me, which I’m sure will ensue in quite a bit of frustration. But I’m only really taking him with me because of school assignments (I don’t really consider this flight a “vacation” per say) so he’s really coming along as a rather semi-unwanted piece of machinery. But, then again, he might be a good photo-backuper, so I’m not complaining.

Anywhoozer, I’m off to finish stuffing some books into my suitcase and possibly eating some unhealthiness before bed.

I wish you all a wonderful couple of weeks without me and I will come bearing goodies, so don’t get too depressooooo.

Love,

Arina

the hum of heating

I don’t know if this is a good development or not, but since the new year I have been sleeping a lot less.  Part of it is unfinished business – exams, unread books, articles – but some of it is just hooking up to the world again.  For the general part of my winter vacation I disconnected with the world and forgot all the ties that kept me there.

It was fabulous.

So fabulous.

I’ve dreamed up of a million things (of course, with my commitment and attention span, I have none of them written down) and thought of a thousand places to go.  It turns out that I need to stay here for a while before I can think of going somewhere else.  That’s kind of a bummer, but getting back into things (“hooking up” as I said earlier) has been a dual process of self-pity and excitement.  Yes, there’s a lot of work in front of me, but do I love it? Yes. Do I yearn to do it every day? Yes. (Okay, not every day).

I love being at York’s campus in the build of winter. I love the crispness of the air and the malleability of the weather – the quick turns it makes from blindingly sunny to softening snowfall.  This keeps me so occupied mentally that I find it hard to settle down and do something worthwhile.  Huckleberry Finn, of course, is worthwhile.  It’s fantastic, really.  But I just don’t feel as though I currently have enough patience to sit myself through another 140 pages of it.

Unescapably, I will and I must, if only to save myself from certain guilt and remorse come exam time.

This summer’s plans (still in the drafting stages in my head) are quickly evolving from international escapades to bogged down school work and work overall.  Thinking about quitting the money work (at the bar) is tempting, but I feel like it would be pushing back against the current that’s sweeping me abroad.  I need money for travel, after all.

I’ve decided to do the TESOL/TESL certificate along with my Specialized Honours of English and Professional Writing – an extra 30 credits ($3000) with which I gain the freedom and the bare necessity to qualify for a teaching job overseas.  I’ve been looking around, and the market for ESL teachers in Canada isn’t bad either, although, who would expect it to be, it being the land of the immigrant as it is.

I guess I should learn Mandarin, or something along those lines.

I just want to stay in school for a long time, although I often nag my boyfriend about the complete opposite.  We’re different creatures, him and I, though – creatures that are built for different goals and meant to come to them through different means.  I try to understand that as much as possible, but it’s difficult when you expect everyone to mirror yourself (that’s the narcissism speaking), or at least understand the main judgements you make in your life.

Editing as a side job without pay makes you really want to write everything perfect the first time, so you don’t have to spend any more time thinking about your phrasing then you could possibly have to.  It makes me want to write like I talk when I get excited about something – cutting myself off in mid-sentence to mention something important and accidentally segueing [sp?] into another equally exciting but similarly incomprehensible (due to the interruptions) point.  You know?

Anyway, I guess you need to put in a fair bit of work to earn a degree, even though everyone says it’s so easy.  I won’t be satisfied barely passing.  I need to be trying for it.  I need to earn it, not just with my money, but with my brain.

I see now that it’s already crudely late (not comparing the past couple of 3-4 am nights, but according to the non-existant sleep schedule that I should be keeping) and I have a tedious class tomorrow morning.  I haven’t gone to this class for more than half of last semester and I’m still doing well.  The man is a holy idiot. I swear to all those administrative masters that are sucking money from my wallet over at York.

Alas. (I really like this word).

In February, hopefully, I’ll absence myself to Moskva for 2 weeks – disconnecting and hooking back up to the world in a mere 14 days.  I’m done trying to fit into the world’s schedule though; that is, without a doubt, one thing my boyfriend has right.  You have to make time to life your own life.  Yes, it’s inconvenient at work and I will probably have assignments due the week I am away and the editing will need to be spread out – but you know what? I’m 20 (for now) and I miss my grandparents and after all, it’s a matter of legal status, so it’s almost important in a way, too!

I’m making time for myself this year.

Love the quiet non-multitude of you that come by.  Need to write more, as always.  But the wires are hard to come by once you’re disconnected, and the freedom that being “wireless” allows is poisonous in the extreme.

Maybe it was meant to be, c’est la vie!

-Arina

castellano

Now listen here, bucko.  I don’t know about you, but I know that exams/essays/reading every day is well,

ruining my eyesight.

I wish I had something interesting to say because I read so many interesting things, but I just tweet them and forget about them.  Twitter is the new Facebook, for reals.  If you didn’t know I’m glad I’m the one to tell you.

My grandfather said that he would pay for a trip for me somewhere within the limit of 10,000$… and all I want to do is go and do this program: Americas Journalism Training.

I want to be an Argentinean.

This blog does very little to help me organize my thoughts sometimes.  For the main part of the day I’m bouncing around reading incredible things and doing nothing with them.  I’m reading more than I’m thinking about it all and I guess that sort of thought formation process is what I really need to work on.  I feel like so much of my thoughts go unrecorded because I stopped writing in my journal and cataloguing every day.  I just give brief overviews of life now, not little snippets of anything – just haze.

This blog is sometimes public and sometimes personal and 100% useless.

Like, for example. Yesterday I had to cut off a 19-year-old PokerStars.net champion.  He got angry and left me a 2$ tip for a 98$ bill.  That’s life, and I’m not complaining.  In fact, I kind of liked cutting him off.

Many jokes later.

 

Back to ardent feminist prose and literary analysis.

-Arina

before you knew, you’d know me. you’d know me.

I always write about days like this – I don’t know why they affect me so much or what kind of massive intrusion they command in my brain, but they do.  Slightly cold, sunny, calm days with cement that sounds like glass under my feet and salt strewn everywhere yet not a snowbank in sight.  Days like watching old man’s inner-ear hair wiggle with the movement of the subway down to Bloor, in the crisp sunlight streaming in from those smoothed windows at Rosedale.  Days like crisp sunlight, really.

Nothing more than me wanting to be outside, walking, travelling, for as long as the weather holds and my errands list doesn’t run out.  There is something that makes me drop into myself downtown, like I travel out of my body here, in the suburbs, and there I am reunited with something I was missing.  Mass identity, maybe, or maybe independence. Joie de vivre!

I’ve been seriously looking into moving to Nova Scotia for the summer – I’ve found a few jobs for which to apply, and a few flats to sublet.  They seem to match up.  Add a bike and a new diet and I’m as good as there, enjoying the sunshine, the solitude, the people – all alone.  Maybe it won’t be like anything I imagined, but it doesn’t hurt to try.  Maybe I can’t visit Brazil quite yet, or Morocco, or Germany, but this is Canada – and I haven’t even seen anything yet!  Isn’t that kind of ridiculous? 12 years and only 2 provinces.  And Quebec doesn’t even really count because I don’t think they want to be a province of ours anymore: what a petulant sibling syndrome, oy vey.  But really – it seems quite possible, if I just do my research.  It’ll also probably take a trip there in February to get everything settled out and all.. but that might be fun.  Hopefully this doesn’t backfire on me.  Hopefully I can make this work, with my job and school and everything.  I have too many things that I want to do going on in my head, too many places, ideas, storylines, emotions.  It’s all in there, in that small oval shaped thing sitting on top of my body.

I’ve been climbing from my resting place these past couple of days.  It’s a slow trek.  Oh! Hold on, I have to go take out the roast.

………………………

Okay.  Mmm… tasty.  I wish I had some leeks to cut up into the mashed potatoes.  And sauteed onions would mix in with that so well!

Anyway, sorry I got a little carried away with my food – again.  Speaking of food though, I went to Momo Yoma (I think that’s the right spelling) at Steeles and Yonge (the “Yorkville” plaza across from Centrepoint, with that Persian restaurant North as well) on Sunday as a going away lunch for my friend who is going on exchange to Spain for half a year.  It was fan-freaking-tastic.  Oh man – we got lie 3 complimentary dishes – crunchy noodle soup (I’ve officially converted to this from miso soup), soy beans and ice cream! The waitress was super nice and cordial and we thanked her with our tip (thanks to that though, I am pretty money-less currently).

Today I had to go down to the Russian Consulate downtown, and after I got my passport’s number there my dad had advised me to head down to the Main Toronto Police Division near College and Bay so I could just fill out the form and get it done with.  Needless to say – the police in Toronto SUCK BALLS.  They were going to charge me 40$ for something that the York Region police just told me they’d do ASAP with a SMILE.  Learn from that, suckballs in Toronto.  Because not only do you not SERVE, you don’t PROTECT either.  Jesus.  No pent up anger there, obviously.

ANYWAY, that whole little mini-saga was told because I decided to treat myself to a new restaurant after all of the commotion.  I walked by it going to the station, it’s a little modern joint called W Burger Bar on College.  Going a la moi, I walked in with my Peruvian, Ugly-Betty-ish sweater and yellow leather bag and requested a table for one.  While I caught that twinkle of surprise in the host’s eye, I gave him credit for proceeding smoothly and ushering me to a table where I could watch the kitchen staff scutter about and prepare my food.  I had read about this restaurant on blogTO (I think?) and am always up for a new resto downtown, hoping to discover that one true gem. So, there I was. Nothing on the walls, straight-edged black tables placed close together, a la downtown, and waitresses donning light pink (ie. see-through) shirts, black belts, grey skirts and flats ran about with doom and gloom cheer.  I realize that’s an oxymoron, but you’d see what I mean if you went there – smiles disappeared at breakneck speeds as soon as their faces were turned away from customers.

However, I didn’t really care. I read.  That all I just noticed due to side-glances and walking into the damn place.  While I didn’t have the cashola to spring for the expensive Kobe burger that I would have loved to have tried, I also didn’t really feel in the mood for anything super fancy.  A Heineken and a Bison Burger later, I was happy and full.  I can’t say I was overly impressed with the bison burger, although I loved their homemade chipotle ketchup and the sautéed onions that were my dressings. I just think the bison tastes exactly like beef, except it costs $4 more.  Mrah.

This isn’t a restaurant review by any means, but that burger still hit the spot.  And I kind of enjoyed having lunch alone.  Downtown.  It’s kind of… rewarding and calming.

I will try to do that more often.

It’s time for dinner though, and although I probably have more to say (if the internet ever stops me), I should probably put a halt on this whole rambling business.  What I should mention is that my boyfriend ended up having his surgery late last night in the emergency room, and while I’m not pleased with the accommodations he was given (uh, none?), I’m at least glad that the main danger is out of the way and he’s at home healing. I brought him loads of candy and several graphic novels to pass the time, although I’m sure his Percocet is helping….  as it has helped many “desperate housewifes” in the past.

Ciao. Arina.