Toronto: The Armpit of Canada or Just a Knee?
I was walking home from work this morning (yes walking! My bike and I had another fight and are currently not on speaking terms) and I passed this little bumper sticker type deal in a store window that said: "Toronto: You Belong Here." Hey now! Let's not jump to any rash conclusions here people! That's being rather presumptuous. In any case, it got me to thinking......Ames, do you belong here? After 8 months (?!?!) in the big city, you'd think I'd be able to come to a clear cut answer, but no, I can't say I can. After all, we are talking about the place I used to hate like a mad cow disease. That cruel cold vast expanse of concrete, cars and carbon monoxide we'd skim through on the way to Grandma's. The place where people lived when they had abandoned all hope, reason and self respect. The place that epitomized everything that was evil, malicious, malevolent, immoral, criminal, and nasty about the world around us. (I used a thesaurus for that one). Yet somehow here I am, trying to belong (and yet not belong), to a city I now call home. Home? Damn, I'm a Torontonian. Worst name ever.
Okay, question is, why did I move here? I could have easily just have hooked up with a job at the hospital I consolidated with in London, moved into a quaint little apartment, zipped around in my quaint little Chevy Cavalier and had a quaint little life in a place that was ruled by a university. For any of those who know me, that sentence sums up why I moved in a nutshell. That's not the life for me and I knew it. London: fun while it lasted but it was time to move on. There would be no challenge to that life and I wanted a new challenge.
Still, that doesn't explain Toronto though. So many other places to move to! Barrie was out of the question (I'll always be hometown proud, but only from a distance). Ottawa and Montreal were in the running and I'm sure would've been incredible (pamplemousse? deux pamplemousse....?) but the clincher was the little known fact that I'm a Messham. I have big plans 2 or 3 years down the road to run off wherever and save the world, and don't know when I'll return. How do these two things connect? Toronto won me over because it meant I could live with my sis Jess, have brother Benerson Messhapaldi up the street and Mom and Dad (and Chucks and Jake) a jump home on the 400. A sentimental fool am I but I want one last hoorah with the Messham cult before I fly off and do what I have to do.
(An added bonus was a guaranteed full time job, and although I was told I had no hope of getting in at Princess Margaret, I'm now working at one of the top 3 oncology hospitals in North America, seeing and doing things I could do no where else. Incredible.)
Toronto though, it had to be you. You're in such a rush to get somewhere that you don't consider where you're going. Sky of grey, sea of green and the stars don't shine bright, if at all. You don't make eye contact, you always look away, your voice is a car horn. Trees somehow become a priviledge, not a right and people become a threat, not a life. How do I live here?
Maybe it can be blamed on Gord Downie. I love that part in the Hip's Bobcaygeon where Gord goes "That night in Toronto...." - just the way he sings it makes it mean somehow so much more and it's just so sexy and drives me crazy. I've had many of those nights here, where everything flows into itself and the lights are there and the whole night is one amazing moment. Toronto isn't beautiful but there is beauty to it. You take a book and a walk and you see it. You jump on a bike, start pedalling and it comes to you. So many brilliant things to experience and see, not to mention the people you meet that take you to these places and to those nights. Such a cast of characters: there's Phil, the absolute most unique, go-where-the-wind-takes-you being I've ever encountered, a guy who won't say a word in a crowded room and yet somehow control it. Yann, aka Pope (cause he's Polish), a guy who can hit my lattitude of noncommitment anytime (ask him about that one) and who lives/breathes poker, always 'all in,' in more ways than one. Of course James is in there, business boy prodigy, ready to slow dance at the drop of a hat, and the catalyst to much of what is now my life in T.O. Then there's Jolan himself, the truest jack of all trades, the bravest of urban explorers, a guaranteed adventure everytime we meet.
Ah but the night wears on. Yes yes sure sure this is all good but enough of this tangent, a wrapup is in order and a conclusion must be drawn on whether, as the bumper sticker suggests, I belong in Toronto or not. (Hmmm, that's what this whole email has been about? That's a gyp.) Sure, it's fun here with the restaurants and concerts and culture, but to live here? Isn't it supposed to be just a place you go for a couple days to see some concert or friends and then return back to life as it should be? Can a gal like me ever actually belong here? I'll say sure. For now, sure I can. I mean, why not? Things are going pretty incredible for me, my life is here right now and I'll keep it that way, at least for a while. Deep inside though I'll always feel an imposter living it up in the T-Dot. I know Toronto will eventually overstay her welcome and one day I'll have to kick her out of my life, but then again that seems to be a pattern with me (look what I did to London.) Fond memories forever but a gal has to know when to move on. So no worries to all you Toronto bashers out there, 'tis only a phase for your sweet little pal Amy. May as well enjoy it while it lasts.
Oh how I miss the stars though.
Okay, question is, why did I move here? I could have easily just have hooked up with a job at the hospital I consolidated with in London, moved into a quaint little apartment, zipped around in my quaint little Chevy Cavalier and had a quaint little life in a place that was ruled by a university. For any of those who know me, that sentence sums up why I moved in a nutshell. That's not the life for me and I knew it. London: fun while it lasted but it was time to move on. There would be no challenge to that life and I wanted a new challenge.
Still, that doesn't explain Toronto though. So many other places to move to! Barrie was out of the question (I'll always be hometown proud, but only from a distance). Ottawa and Montreal were in the running and I'm sure would've been incredible (pamplemousse? deux pamplemousse....?) but the clincher was the little known fact that I'm a Messham. I have big plans 2 or 3 years down the road to run off wherever and save the world, and don't know when I'll return. How do these two things connect? Toronto won me over because it meant I could live with my sis Jess, have brother Benerson Messhapaldi up the street and Mom and Dad (and Chucks and Jake) a jump home on the 400. A sentimental fool am I but I want one last hoorah with the Messham cult before I fly off and do what I have to do.
(An added bonus was a guaranteed full time job, and although I was told I had no hope of getting in at Princess Margaret, I'm now working at one of the top 3 oncology hospitals in North America, seeing and doing things I could do no where else. Incredible.)
Toronto though, it had to be you. You're in such a rush to get somewhere that you don't consider where you're going. Sky of grey, sea of green and the stars don't shine bright, if at all. You don't make eye contact, you always look away, your voice is a car horn. Trees somehow become a priviledge, not a right and people become a threat, not a life. How do I live here?
Maybe it can be blamed on Gord Downie. I love that part in the Hip's Bobcaygeon where Gord goes "That night in Toronto...." - just the way he sings it makes it mean somehow so much more and it's just so sexy and drives me crazy. I've had many of those nights here, where everything flows into itself and the lights are there and the whole night is one amazing moment. Toronto isn't beautiful but there is beauty to it. You take a book and a walk and you see it. You jump on a bike, start pedalling and it comes to you. So many brilliant things to experience and see, not to mention the people you meet that take you to these places and to those nights. Such a cast of characters: there's Phil, the absolute most unique, go-where-the-wind-takes-you being I've ever encountered, a guy who won't say a word in a crowded room and yet somehow control it. Yann, aka Pope (cause he's Polish), a guy who can hit my lattitude of noncommitment anytime (ask him about that one) and who lives/breathes poker, always 'all in,' in more ways than one. Of course James is in there, business boy prodigy, ready to slow dance at the drop of a hat, and the catalyst to much of what is now my life in T.O. Then there's Jolan himself, the truest jack of all trades, the bravest of urban explorers, a guaranteed adventure everytime we meet.
Ah but the night wears on. Yes yes sure sure this is all good but enough of this tangent, a wrapup is in order and a conclusion must be drawn on whether, as the bumper sticker suggests, I belong in Toronto or not. (Hmmm, that's what this whole email has been about? That's a gyp.) Sure, it's fun here with the restaurants and concerts and culture, but to live here? Isn't it supposed to be just a place you go for a couple days to see some concert or friends and then return back to life as it should be? Can a gal like me ever actually belong here? I'll say sure. For now, sure I can. I mean, why not? Things are going pretty incredible for me, my life is here right now and I'll keep it that way, at least for a while. Deep inside though I'll always feel an imposter living it up in the T-Dot. I know Toronto will eventually overstay her welcome and one day I'll have to kick her out of my life, but then again that seems to be a pattern with me (look what I did to London.) Fond memories forever but a gal has to know when to move on. So no worries to all you Toronto bashers out there, 'tis only a phase for your sweet little pal Amy. May as well enjoy it while it lasts.
Oh how I miss the stars though.
posted by messh68 @ 2:10 AM
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