Here I am

The plane shook but my nerves shook harder.

I've never been very good on planes, but I love to travel. I love to find myself in the most random of locations.

And this is where I am right now, somewhere random.

Lethbridge, Alberta isn't necessarily a travel destination for many, apart from avid golfing enthusiasts. But, I decided on a late February morning back in Toronto that it would be where I carried out my internship for CTV.

I arrived a week early so my mom, sister and I could make a mini holiday out of it. Yesterday was the day we were to rendezvous. We all flew in from different directions: Seattle, Vancouver, Toronto and met up in the Calgary airport. Mildly drugged (this is how I have to fly) it felt so good to embrace in the jovial family group hug. I hadn't seen my sister in so long and we haven't had a family getaway in forever!

My mom, as she is so good at doing, took the reins and plopped my sister and I into our pre ordered rental car. This woman is the most organized human being on the face of this planet. I kid you not.

We flew off down the highway, at the speed of an Albertan driver, to Canmore for the night.

This is where we would come through all seasons when I was small for a weekend getaway when we lived in Calgary with my dad. This place has changed so much, but it still holds so many memories for me.

This morning we were up early and heading out onto the open road with our choice Starbucks beverage in hand.

An overwhelmingly intense thunderstorm showered us throughout the two-hour duration the whole way south. But, there was a clear sky over Lethbridge (was this a sign?).

I've never been here before and didn't quite no what to expect. It's a mid sized town with all of the amenities. It's arid with wind that would mess even the most shellacked 'do' and so far the air smells like manure, maybe it's the season.

At this moment I'm settled into the lobby of the golfing resort we're staying at. I needed a short break from the estrogen packed condo. I love my family. But man, we all make such a big deal out of nothing.

But we're set for a great week together. There's a plentiful supply of wine, groceries and a stack of movies and books awaiting my attention.

Adieu sweet feline, adieu.

I always promised myself I would never become the crazy cat lady. Well, I have come close.

In January of this year I had, had enough of the mice who thought it was more than okay to run freely about my apartment. With the okay of one of my room mates and a shrug from the other I set off to adopt my cat.

It was one of those cold sleety days in late January. But, it was the day that my family would grow.

The Humane Society smelt of diarrhea and the dogs never stopped barking. Over and over I checked and rechecked the small steel cages. I knew I wanted an adult, female. I knew what I wanted but I just couldn't find it. I had almost given up and they were closing soon. I hadn't checked the cages that were hiding behind the open door. I crouched down and there she was. A beautiful brown tabby that looked terrified with the entire noisy goings on.

She looked like the cat I had grown up with. She was perfect.

She was called Mia but I changed it to Mayah. She was mine now.

My roommates and I brought her home. I fussed over her every need for a good few weeks afterwards.

Almost immediately she settled in and promptly became herself. No more shy humane society kitty, no, no.

She squawks when she tries to explain or converse with you. The sound is more along the lines of a baby with bronchitis. Mayah emits this noise when she's hungry, looking for you, bored, curious or when she's hunting.

She claims at least one of my pillows every night and sleeps at the head of the bed; a location she feels more than justified to sleep in.

She sleeps by the door and refuses to move when you're trying to leave. Looking up at you with a look of disdain.

For some strange reason I always feel possessed to leave the television on for her comfort.

She also always sits by my laptop (as she's doing right now) and stares at me as I write, slowly pushing her back end into the photo frame of my mom and I, until it collapses.

All of this will come to a standstill tomorrow. Mayah is making the big journey westward to move in with my grandparents. I'll be away on my internship and I want her to have the attention she feels she deserves (please note the ounce of sarcasm).

The taxi arrives at 6:30 a.m. to take us to the cargo hold for her flight.

She'll probably be squawking as I walk away with tears flooding my eyes and my heart breaking as I move quickly to exit the building.

We'll be reunited at Christmas. But for now sweet feline, bon voyage.

Cleaning out my closet

I’ve been feeling stifled by stuff.

With too many clothes stuffed in every which way, my closet was beginning to appear like some sort of Robert Munsch character. It had a beastly identity and we weren’t getting along anymore.

Something had to change.

I’ve always held onto the saying, ‘If you haven’t worn it in a year, chuck it out.’ Unfortunately, I haven’t always put this saying into practice.

With the house to myself these days, I was free to blast Alanis Morissette’s, ‘Jagged Little Pill’ and attack that growing monster of mine.

It was so refreshing to pull out clothes that were visibly no longer my style or that I had worn to rags. A breath of fresh air uplifted me.

I moved on to cupboards and drawers that were crammed with paper. One by one I collected assignments from these past three years in school. I was proud of most of these but also ashamed of a few.

Carefully compiling the articles and essays I was proud of and chucking the ones I was ashamed of having my name attached to. I was embarrassed of these marks and of my lack of interest in some of these assignments.

You can’t hide from shame by shoving it into a dark little drawer. No, no you simply have to throw it out!

There is still more to do. But at least I can breathe properly again.

Taste the city

The best place to meet was at Pape Station, in front of the Tim Horton’s. I quickly called my friend to confirm just as I was descending into the underbelly of the subway. I was late.

I hadn’t seen Anne in so long. We have opposite work schedules. She finishes work just as I’m waking up, it couldn’t be more opposite.

But today we made a date for this sunny Saturday afternoon. The Greek food festival, The Taste of the Danforth was in full swing and we both love, love, love food.

Meeting up with friends can be a tricky thing when a festival is on in this city. But, she stood waiting, beside the scruffy looking coffee shop, with her back to me; just as she said she would. She was mesmerized by the parade of strollers and hungry festival goers who were making their way to the strip.

I was so excited to see her. I had to refrain from jumping on her back or pinching her butt; because I wasn’t a hundred per cent sure this was her and wouldn’t that have been embarrassing if it wasn’t - whoops.

I called out her name and she turned; a big hug was definitely in order.

We strolled down the street maneuvering around the kamikaze mommies with their buggies and wagons.

Then there were the masters with fire and meat; dozens of men with thick, black, well manicured moustaches hunched over their open aired grills.

We ate spanakopita, corn on the cob and sipped away at freshly squeezed strawberry smoothies.

There was just so much to see. A large stage was set up at the far end of the street festival. As we neared it three women floated to the stage with smiles wide and bellies bare. They shook what the good lord gave them and we all enjoyed every second of it.

Everywhere you turned people were rejoicing. Patrons at a cafe were dancing and calling out Opa! as they threw hundreds of paper napkins in the air. Passersby didn't know what to make of this, but the owners didn't even give a second look.

This was a perfect summer day in the city and as close to Greece as I'll come for at least another year.

Just about there

It hit me, straight across the face, I have to make the most of this experience.

So much of my time at university has felt like a waste. Not that attending has been worthless but that I’ve taken it all for granted.

I have one more year to make it happen, to push myself to exhaustion. I’ll squeeze every drip of experience I can out of this time.

In just over two weeks I’m off to Alberta. I’ve been dreaming of this time since I was officially accepted into Ryerson University’s Bachelor of Journalism program.

Now I must clarify, I haven’t been dreaming about Alberta that much is for sure. It’s the required, un-paid internship that I’ll be carrying out there that has been humming away in the back of my mind.

The options were great. I could have gone anywhere. But I knew that I wanted to be in a small news station; so any hands on experience wouldn’t be considered taboo.

It all fell into place. The way things are supposed to when it’s the right fit.

But at this point I’m feeling a bit of anxiety and apprehension. Hopefully this all fades away quickly, because I’m supposed to enjoy this time.

Although, I have been counting the sleeps until my departure.

Summer Shower

Torontonians are afraid of rain.

But, then again I don’t blame them.

I found a grassy court yard today. I sat out on a cement block with a purchased bowl of soup.

The mix that surrounds me is so diverse.

Corporate sharks waddle about in black suits, frantically sucking back their lunch hour nicotine fix; they obsess over the latest message on their black berry. The mommies sit huddled with their salad and diet drink. They discuss their latest plan to lose that god forsaken baby weight or how their teenagers have no respect. Now, the disgruntled employees are my absolute favorite. They look like they dressed themselves in the dark and loudly bitch, bitch, bitch about what their psychotic boss did to them that morning.

These people are my entertainment.

With my soup finished and the clock running out it was time to head back to the reception desk.

As I gather my belongings up the dark clouds over head blacken and just as suddenly, crack open. I felt just one large droplet on my shoulder. I hear the spackling downpour on the hot cement just seconds before I see it.

The sharks, mommies and hate filled employees scatter in every direction, they flee the open space. I have to laugh at this dramatic scene.

The rain here behave like the people, wasting time is never an option. Just as shelter was found the rain shower intensified. It was a wall of liquid falling from the sky.

Where I come from rain doesn’t fall like this. At home a summer shower is something to enjoy. It has never been something to fear or flee from.

The rain, like the people are just different here.

No jackpot

Bright lights and loud noises have never excited me.

I’ve always been frightened by fireworks and I’ve also always hated large crowds.

One town that has both of these is Niagara Falls, Ontario. This is where I spent my weekend.

My Mom flew in last week and whisked me away to this tourist hot spot.

Niagara Falls is a very confusing place; it doesn't quite know what it wants to be.

It is the location of one of Canada’s natural wonders but it is also home to cheap tourist attractions, which advertise themselves with overwhelming neon strobe lights.

Business owners here uphold the motto, ‘Why ask for a dime when you can charge a dollar.’

We did, however, spend most of our time outside of this tourist trap. We sipped locally made vino at various wineries throughout Niagara On The Lake (Niagara Falls' charming neighbour).

Although on our last night there I made the executive decision that I wanted to experience the night life at the Falls. This meant a casino. I’ve never been in one before and they’re in plentiful supply here. But, I never fathomed wasting my money on nothing would make me feel the way it did.

With my non-gambler of a mother by my side we climbed two sets of escalators from the entrance. A weathered looking middle aged woman was gliding down the opposite direction, swigging a bottle of Canadian.

Despite the frantic pulse of the place, my heart slowed a little. I had no idea how to take it all in.

We slowly strolled the perimeter, peering into the sea of slot machines, not knowing where to start.

A cashier, who looked like someone's grandmother, broke the 20 dollar bill I wanted to dedicate to the ‘cause’. She explained with a patient, motherly tone just how these money grubbing monsters work.

“A machine has to speak to you,” she explained pushing forward four 5 dollar bills underneath the cage.

There was one machine that caught my eye a little earlier. Its theme was ‘Phantom of the Opera’ and I saw that show recently with my boyfriend. So, I suppose that machine had spoken to me.

So I settled in and saddled up. There wasn’t much to it and it was far less exhilarating than I had originally imagined it to be.

I kept winning credits, which kept me playing longer. But, in actual fact I just kept losing.

At one point a haggard, middle aged man stepped up to the machine beside mine. He released a 20 and played one round. He spent every cent of that green bill on one spin, lost and walked away.

This sight depressed me. I was finished losing, so we left.

I can’t see this ever becoming a favorite past time.