Packing Schmacking

You know what sucks? Packing. Not packing for a lovely holiday. That can be fun. You download the customizable universal packing list (seriously, do this, it totally rocks), and pick out some pretty outfits and buy some new sunscreen. No, I'm talking about packing an apartment to move. Yep, its a universal truth, moving is one of those things that pretty much everyone loathes. Piles of boxes, extensive purging of items, organizing, bending, lifting, house in disarray. Its miserable.

But you know what else is miserable? Living in one of the worst neighbourhoods in Toronto. Two years ago, when I moved into my place I didn't know quite how sketchy the area was. I knew it was a bit rough, but I also knew that since I literally had one day to find a place to live, thanks to my Dad's screw-up, I likely wasn't going to do much better. My priorities were to be walking distance from work, and to pay less than $1000 inclusive for a one bedroom with a balcony in downtown Toronto. I found that. I also got the bonus of a pool.

However, I also got the experience of living a half a block away from the mission. I've witnessed drug deals and hooking, arrests for various types of offenses. In two years I walked outside my apartment after 10pm by myself twice. I was very careful. I learned that certain streets are safter to walk on than others, and certain sides of the street are better as well. But, I also learned a lot of different things. After awhile, you come to know and recognize a neighbourhood, and the people within it, as they recognize you. People in my area face all sorts of mental health challenges, of abject poverty, or drug addiction. I came to understand these issues a lot more, and much of my fear was broken down. I was still careful, but more conscious of the reality of the situation.

That being said, the building itself was pretty terrible. It has the most terrifying elevators you've ever encountered. Ok, maybe second most. Its a rough ride. The doors get stuck. I once was stuck in an elevator, and I had some nachos and salsa, and a couple girls in there had a 12 pack of beer, and we were like, "well, at least we can have a party if we don't get out". A minute later the elevator started up again. The man who was in the elevator expressed his disappointment that the elevator party didn't pan out. Amusingly, the elevators in my building are something of community builders. An elevator is broken, and you're standing in the hall, getting progressively later for work, and more and more people come and join you, having a common focus to bitch about caused people to talk to each other more. Raging at the building that has so many fire alarms that no one takes them seriously and actually evacuates during them is better done in concert with your neighbours.

Anyway, I am mightily pleased to be leaving my building, but packing, packing sucks. Putting your life into boxes and taking stock of the things you have to tie you down, getting sweaty and sometimes dirty, and realizing that you keep stupid things from time to time (like 27 mismatched socks. WHY? WHY???). Hauling and moving and worrying about the timing and logistics, its just not fun.

What should be fun is my new place. I'm going to be living with friends again, which will be a very nice update from living alone. I've enjoyed living alone, but I think that my new place will have a great balance. It will be in a far better neighbourhood with people I really enjoy and no more elevators or fire alarms. And, I'll admit, no longer living next door to the mission will be a lovely side bonus as well.

But booooo packing.

A Stroke of Awesome

So, first off, my apologies for my prolonged absence. I imagine I've likely lost all of my already limited readership. Perhaps my kind sister still checks back on occasion to see whether I've written anything new, but I can't expect the rest of you to have maintained interest. So, I thought, hey, why not come back to the blog with something loud, exciting, and wicked... bound to capture the interest of all! (Or just you, Shelly). What could be so awesome that it gets you as excited as an explosion in the first 30 seconds of a movie (or better yet, an explosion during the opening credits? thanks,Team America). You guessed it: A Thunderstorm!

(Props to my Mom for this wicked pic!)

Ok, maybe you didn't guess it, but thunderstorms are freaking awesome. I'd have sworn there, but there might be kids reading this. How they ever found this blog, I'll never know. But, its the internet, where children know far more than their parents. Seriously, as an aside, if I were a parent, I'd be TERRIFIED of the internet (and yet simultaneously enthralled! So much useful parenting and child development information!)

Right. Thunderstorms. So, I was never a kid who was afraid of thunderstorms, really. This was largely because my parents intentionally made a storm into an exciting and fun event. When we were kids, if there was a storm, especially at the cottage, they'd wake us up, and we'd all go into the veranda and watch the lightning and jump at the thunder, but feel enthralled by the entire thing.

Thunderstorms have never really lost their magic for me. Its been something that's endured. The majesty of nature is bewildering at times, and I've felt humbled to bear witness. Last month, my best friend Lily came up to my cottage for an awesome weekend with some family members and friends. On Saturday night, we got treated to an amazing show. After dinner and dishes were done, we retired to the dock as we typically do, in order to watch the sunset.

Well, that Saturday night, there was no sunset, per se. The lake was placid and calm, but we could hear a storm brewing around the bay. There was no rain or wind, but thunder would rumble around us like we were in the middle of a Tibetan singing bowl that had a very low voice. Then the lightning started. The lightning was intense and exciting, but well across the lake. We sat at the end of the dock watching this storm for a good 45 minutes until finally Mom had the common sense to inform us that the storm was about to hit, and we shouldn't be on the end of the dock inviting a lightning strike. She was right. We retired to the cottage, and two minutes later the storm hit us. We turned off all the lights and sat in the dark listening to the storm and Pink Floyd's Dark Side of the Moon. If you're ever wondering what is the appropriate music during a thunder or lightning storm, that would be it.

Once, a few years ago, my Dad and I were hanging out playing some cribbage, and a crazy lightning storm started. We quickly flipped off all the lights and power except for our stereo which had just started playing Dark Side of the Moon. Over the next 45 minutes, the lightning storm was exactly in time to the album. It had the same breath, the same spaces, multiple flashes and action at the same time as the beats. It was us, Pink Floyd, and God, and it was amazing.

So, to all you parents out there, don't let your kids be afraid of a storm, instead, help them get excited about it. You'll be doing them a favour for a lifetime. And guess what? They're calling for a thunderstorm tomorrow! Keep your fingers crossed!