Classical Shakespeare.

I was at the opening weekend concert of the Toronto Symphony's 90th season last night --is there anything quite like listening to classical music live? Add to that a Shakespeare theme that included Christopher Plummer as a guest reading from Henry V alongside Walton's score and you basically have an evening of epic proportions.

I'm pretty sure Prokofiev's Romeo and Juliet is the favoured musical interpretation, but I may just have been won over by Tchaikovsky. Though my friend astutely pointed out that all he can think of when he hears the familiar love theme is Sims (sigh), the cliched association of cartoons or cheesy slow motion scenes of lovers running towards each other is overridden by the other theme representing the rivaling Montagues and Capulets. I've never heard the piece in its entirety and it gave me chills.

10 ways I am like my cat.

1) My default look is usually bitchface/judging-you.

2) But if you give me a back massage I'm all yours.

3) My bed is home.

4) I'm hungry....a lot.

5) I miaow.

6) I'm hot then I'm cold.

7) I'm an old lady.

8) I'm a night owl

9) I have childbearing hips

10) I dance dance dance

The trouble with cheating.

I ended my sleep-at-a-reasonable-hour-like-a-responsible-adult streak last night when I had a 1am movie session with Last Night. The main reason I chose to watch it was because of my shameless girl crush on Keira Knightley and her insufferable pout and razor sharp jawline. But it turned out to be my kind of movie in general --which is best described as "slow." That sounds like a backhanded compliment but what I mean is I love movies that you can just marinate in, where nothing really happens, where it's a slightly rose-tinted version of the romance and angst of everyday life, where you get to watch people wash their hands at the sink or make food in their perfect kitchens or walk around in their underwear. Films like Lost in Translation  and Beginners.

So except for Sam Worthington's wooden acting and bovine expressions and the cop-out ending which left me raging a little, Last Night was my kind of movie. And it also got me thinking, which is a miracle for any film to do to a viewer these days. I'll spare you the spoilery details but what the film essentially asks is which kind of infidelity is worse --or, as I chose to read it, which would I rather my partner commit --a one-night stand largely fueled by physical chemistry, or a constant, nostalgic longing for a former love who holds that "special place" even though there is no physical act of  cheating.

I have no immediate or final answer to which I would find more forgivable/understandable because let's face it, both situations suck. And yet both, I think, are so easy to happen without malicious intent. I think I would find the emotional cheating more forgivable and more painful. I say more forgivable because I don't think you can help what you feel, and memory is such a powerful force that escapes control most of the time....and for that reason it would also be more painful to know that some other individual occupies your S.O's mental space, regardless of whether they're even there or not. Whereas I would probably be far more enraged by physical cheating and the choice to act on what you're feeling. Is that less forgivable? On second thought, maybe not given that I could probably also take some twisted comfort in knowing it was "only" based on lustful desire, not loaded history.  

I honestly can't say which I would find easier to deal with but I believe in both cases it's not necessarily a dealbreaker --that's not to say you shouldn't break up if the guy/girl has been a total asshole about it --but's it not simple enough a matter to have a pre-made decision about without any context. Everyone fucks up because everyone's human. But I guess I can only theorise until something actually happens.

I return with furry creature in tow.

While this blog has very much been "en hold", life, contrary to my expectations, has not. You know it's a good sign when you're too busy to spend time on the internet....not that that's entirely been the case, but let's just say the reason I've been MIA for 3 months here is because there's been too much to update as opposed to too little or nothing. Yes, while I fully expected this to be the summer of idleness to conquer the wiling hours of all other confused graduates also embarking on ambiguous gap years, things have surprisingly been on a roll.

I always hesitate to celebrate these kinds of moments because I have a Protestant's suspicion of happiness.
I'm sitting here in a new apartment with an iPhone (hey, I was previously using a phone where I couldn't hear people on the other end) on the desk and a cat curled up on my bed wondering,  how did this happen?? When did I start remotely resembling that thing you call an Adult? At this point you probably think I have really low expectations of what the "adult's" life looks like, but that's it for me. That's the "young professional" image I have in my head. Apartment + Cat + Single Girl = Young Professional.

Oh, I guess Job should also be in that equation somewhere, which I do have covered as well. Two of them --one is a little soul sucking and the other places me back in the vicinity of the college and around keen eyed first years who make me feel like a once beautiful washed-up trophy wife, but hey! The important part is that both gigs allow me to chase the ultimate lofty goal. Which I also like to think I am inching towards slowly, at snail's pace with stars still in my eyes (how is possible to be so extremely cynical and idealistic?) and not much of a backup plan, but the drive is there and I'm realising more that that's the feeling that counts.

It's funny how things sometimes work out in a way that's completely opposite to what you planned, and you feel like you should fight them but then you realise they're just as great. I had planned to spend a year in la belle France....then that got downgraded to making the move to Montreal....and then it turned out to be just moving out a few blocks north, and even working back at the college. Towards the end of my last year at uni I was so clueless  and scared shitless about what was next --even in terms of what I wanted to be next --that the only thing I could say for no real reason was that I had to leave Toronto, if not Canada...just for the sake of change itself. And then I graduated, and realised how much I loved Toronto and how much it had become home without me realising. Everything I had hated about it was to do with the stress of school, and now that it was over....that just left the city and the people I know here. And they're all pretty damn great.

Sometimes I read back on my old journal entries and am shocked at how miserable  I was. Even now I still remain wary of feeling too happy because with every high point there's a downhill, and to me that's not pessimism, it's keeping things in perspective and avoiding arrogance and complacency. But I guess right now this moment, I can concede that I'm feeling more than just okay.