Marion Cotillard

I stumbled upon this video of Marion Cotillard while perusing The Debonaire today. Marion Cotillard and I look similar in a way that makes it feel sort of surreal to watch this. Not like, Oh mon dieu, I look exactly like this mega-gorgeous film star, but like we could be cousins, or sisters or something. She smiles with her mouth closed and gets sort of squinty in the same way I do. So, in what seems to be a form of narcissism, I completely adore her.

I especially love the way she mixes up "ed" and "ing" endings, so she calls herself "confusing" rather than "confused." It makes me wonder what kind of mistakes I make in French, without even noticing. I hope that when (not if) I next go to France and make new French friends they find my linguistic missteps at least a little bit charming.

And a little clip of her in French (on filmmaking):

It's funny how people's voices change depending on the language they're speaking. Et j'adore ça aussi.

Not lost

I'm not lost exactly, I'm just not entirely sure where I'm going. The thing that's keeping me from feeling lost, I think, is knowing that so many others are where I am, or have been.

Reading this piece on being lost by Penelope Trunk made me feel like a member of a tribe, all of us bumping around in the world, opening doors, looking around corners and lifting up the edges of things to see what's underneath. Looking, and hopefully finding. 

My favourite bit from the post is about the importance of art: "When you are lost is when you need art most." This is so true for me. Finding and reading Where the God of Love Hangs Out last week immediately pulled me out of the weird mood I was in and connected me to the feeling of awe that comes with encountering really amazing art. It reminded of what's possible.

Other art I want to experience:
I Am Love
The second season of Nurse Jackie (yes, television can be art. Pretty much anything can be art)
An Ontario peach (in keeping with my stance that everything can be art, I most certainly believe that food can be art. I think that food can nurture those same places in us as do songs with perfect, husky harmonies and novels with characters so real they feel like they're alive inside us, places far more important than our bellies)
Everything at the Art Gallery of Ontario
Watching people everywhere 

And, oh yes, I'm creating. Sometimes blogging doesn't feel like it should count, but I'm counting it. I've also started doing morning pages again, in the hopes that I will let some of the stories that have been pushing their way forward actually come out.

Life beside the CN Tower (which I always want to call the Space Needle)

The CN Tower from my window, pixelated by the screen door.

And in the morning, in the fog.

I had some kind of flu-type thing over the weekend, and I just lay in bed sleeping, and when I was too tired to sleep I watched TV on my computer (I finally started watching Modern Family. That is a great show). I think that my body just gave up after I spent a few days freaking out about jobs and possible futures and where I should be and what I should be doing.

Rest, my body said. Stop it. Look what you're doing to yourself.

Yesterday I felt about 70% normal. This morning I was at about 85%. So off I went, into the world. The weather today is beautiful, clear and hot but not crazyhot like I've almost gotten used to. I explored my new neighbourhood a bit. I'm currently staying right down by the Toronto harbourfront, which is a sort of odd little area. I was sad that I didn't have my camera with me, because there were so many weird little nooks. Odd little green hills and spans of fake beach with little yellow beach umbrellas.

I should have sought out the water earlier. It's so nice to sit and watch an expanse of water sparkle, even if it's not the Atlantic or the Pacific.

After the water I walked up to the library. I joined the library last week, and I've already been up three times. Today, while browsing, I came across a new collection of stories by Amy Bloom, one of my favourite authors. So I decided to do one of those soul affirming things I somehow hadn't done in too long. I bought myself a steamed milk with hazelnut, found a comfy chair, and sat and read. I've read the first half, and the book (Where the God of Love Hangs Out) is as wonderful as anything she's written. I cried already. I hardly ever cry when I'm reading.

A trip to the water + a substantial sitdown with a good book = majorly rejuvenating.

I think a lot in word based mathematical equations lately.

Toronto has been up and down. Not literally, it's actually pretty flat (although the simcoe wave deck is another of those odd waterfront nooks I discovered today). But it's been very weird not having a job, not having money to explore, and still trying to make a connection. I felt absolutely called to come here, and just followed that blindly, figuring that when I got here I'd see why. Now I'm just kind of waiting to see what happens, feeling altogether out of my element. I know that I need to give it a bit of time to find my place, but that is a sort of scary place to be, especially when there are people around me, people that I know love me, who are nudging me to just grow up and join the real world already. I am, I swear - I'm just doing it my way.

I really am a part of that thing, that generation Y (ahem) thing that they talk about, where I know that my job is going to take up a huge part of my life, so rather than trying for work life balance, which sounds like a joke, I'm aiming for work life unity. A strong sense of community is probably the biggest thing I'm looking for. I was lucky enough to have that in my past two jobs, and am looking for it again. So for now I'm taking a job in a coffee shop (I actually got an awesome vibe based on the interview), while I try to build a career (and a life) combining my dedication to service and to community with my extremely wonderful creative and organizational skills. 

So yes. This is my generation Y post. Maybe I should write a graphic novel about the whole thing.

The high life in Toronto

The view from J's (and soon to be, at least briefly, my) balcony.

First thoughts on Toronto

My first text to Alex, upon arriving: "So many hipsters on bicycles. And bricks."

Today I spent my first day in Toronto walking around alone. (I live here now. This is brand new.) I bought a perfect two dollar latte at JetFuel. I walked to the closest library branch to find out what I will need to get a library card. I went to the big chain bookstore and bought myself a little map book thing.

Downtown smelled at first like a mix of chocolate and people, and then a few blocks later it was a very warm nutmeg smell.

I passed a sign in a window that said: Be motivated in life by desire, not fear.

It made me feel good.

Halfway through writing this post, I happened upon this video, a poem (a collaboration between lovelies Tanya Davis and Andrea Dorfman):

I am a little bit in love with it.

I am not someone who is averse to alone, or who associates alone with loneliness. But lately I've been around people a lot. So today, being all by myself from the time I woke up felt slightly strange, especially being in a place that I don't know. That poem is a lovely reminder that I can cherish these moments. I get the chance to explore my new city, to be with my impressions, to notice things and stop and enjoy them and have them be mine for a while.

Maybe I will take myself to a movie soon. Going to the movies alone is one of my favourite things. Maybe I will wait until a day gets so hot that I can't bear to be outside. Or maybe I will go when the sun is shining but there is still a cool breeze, and I won't even feel guilty, because a dark movie theatre is an amazing place to be, no matter what is going on outside.

It is very exciting to move to a new city, sight unseen. I keep forgetting this is the second time I've done it, although it feels completely different, because when I moved to Halifax everything was in place before I got there. I had a job, a place to live, and a school to go to. This time everything is free and possible and nothing is certain, but things keep falling into place and I just keep going, trusting. It makes me feel alive and young and possible and a bit timid but also brave and hopeful and glad. 

This city is prettier than I expected. Greener.

It is different. 

I was craving a place to explore, and now I have a whole city full of tastes I've never tasted, sounds I've never heard, people I've never met, and on. I am welcoming Toronto recommendations (indeed, I am soliciting them). Tell me about your favourite Toronto place, if you have one. 

Before I got here I listened to this song over and over, mostly because there is a line that mentions Toronto: 

I really love that video - it feels like summer. And I am a sucker for lone trumpets.

The Decemberists performing Crazy on You.

A friend of mine sent me a link to this video with the comment that the girl on the left reminded him an awful lot of me. This is a giant compliment, as she is adorable and obviously awesome. Apparently it's Shara Worden, who sang the role of the Queen on the Decemberists' The Hazards of Love. I didn't go see them when they toured for that album, and I'm still a bit sad about it. This video of her singing the Queen's Rebuke just reminds me, but it is so good that it's worth the pain.

Also, I want her haircut. 

New blog

So it's pretty brand new, and currently only has two posts up (one of which you've already seen), but I am super psyched about my new blog, Cahiers du cinémode. Go look. 

In Ottawa

Walking in Montreal

I tried a macaron for the first time, from boutique point g. At first I was skeptical about paying $1.50 for a tiny piece of vibrantly-hued sweetness. I should not have been. I got the "abricot - thé noir" flavour. It was delicious. I didn't decide that I needed to document the wonderfulness that is a macaron until I was almost finished.

I am constantly coming across colour combinations that make me stop.

Like pink and grey.


It is beautiful.

The Big Library

And so begins my summer of wandering.

I left Halifax on Monday for good (or at least for goodish). I'm slowly winding my way back to Vancouver for August, but after that everything is up in the air. I'm craving adventure and newness: a big city and new faces after two years ensconced in tiny, loving Halifax.

Currently in Montreal. I was welcomed on Tuesday night by homemade paella and my favourite beer, and since then I've been reveling in one of my favourite cities, mostly going from delicious food to delicious food, with lots of walking between mouthfuls.

This morning I was taken to la Grande Bibliothèque (or, as I call it, the Big Library). It is gorgeous, and full of bright spots to sit and read (or write, as I did). We went straight to the 4th floor, the film and music section, where I found row after row after row of CDs and DVDs and books.

I love her. In the CD stacks.

"Can I please live here?" I asked. I want to set up a bed in the stacks and sit up late at night screening the thousands of movies I have yet to see, randomly selecting them from the shelves. I want to go through the music collection, listening to each and every album in turn, discovering new bits of world. I want towering piles of books scattered throughout the library, organized according to my own personal system (possibly by colour).

I am currently a little bit homeless. Anytime anyone asks me, "So, where do you live?" I sigh a little and smile. "That is complicated," I say. Or simply, "Nowhere" with a laugh. I'm looking for potential homes, and finding them everywhere.