Summer's here and I'm ready to play

I was patient. It finally decided to arrive and now that it's here I couldn't be happier.

It's been a day where Spring feels like Summer. And I lived it like it was my last. I adore those days where you get up and just want to feel every moment.

I fully realize that within my few posts I've mentioned the weather quite a few times. But don't you find it has great bearing on how productive or how enjoyable your day turns out!?

I felt like a pretzel. Random, yes, but, oh so delicious.

So, I made my way into the shopping village that comes complete with the sweetest bakeries and mom and pop type shops. Everyone and their dog was out and about and they all seemed to be sporting a smile, even the four legged ones.

I too had a lot to smile about. My lumberjack and I were permitted an evening together, finally. With work and school there haven't been enough hours in the day. As I walked along I felt like bursting; I'm so lucky to have him.

I basked in the sunshine on a bench that appeared to have survived several, hard decades. Unfortunately, the warmed pretzel and grande americano were not as lucky, only surviving mere moments.

The day also permitted a snooze beneath a winter stricken bare oak tree in High Park. The blossoms are there, just awaiting their queue.

Little India was the destination for dinner. The street was flush with vendors and sidewalk sales that sparkled. The sequins and vibrant saris were elegantly flowing in the evening breeze.

Our dinner was just as colourful. Although Gillian pointed out the food was too mild, she wanted to feel the burn. Glancing around the packed buffet house it was clear that they were cooking for a specific clientele, people like me (whimps).

Everything seems to be thriving again.

The blossoms have the right idea; it's just about the right time to come out to play.

With just one word at a time.

I'm afraid to write.

I used to love the freedom of writing. Sadly, this is why I moved across this great country.

I wanted to make my writing a career, a tool I could use to change the world. Yes, at this time I was an optimistic teenager who thought she knew EVERYTHING, she had the world by the tail.

With moving to Toronto I figured as soon as I learned the tricks of the trade, journalism would be my new passion. Tragically, this was not to be.

I've been working towards my degree in journalism for the past three years now. So far, all I've truly learned is to fear what I have to write. Not because I'm blunt or mildly offensive, no, quite the contrary. Many of my instructors have labeled me whirly and unfocused.

It's been only recently that I've come to voluntarily move myself towards a keyboard.

I came to the decision quite recently that these 'instructors' love themselves and their work far too much. So what if I'm whirly - deal with it!

I suppose I'm just tired of paying an institution thousands of dollars each year for them to tell me, 'We're sorry you suck."

There's only two more weeks left to this semester. I'm grinding away at the remainder of my assignments. It's an uphill battle, but I'm almost there.

My bones are weary. This isn't my flamboyantly dramatic side coming out to play either - I'm just dog-tired.

I’m ready and willing for something new to challenge myself with.