Helsinki (July 26-Aug 2, 2026)

I'm at the point where it's been about 20 years since I've been to wherever I'm travelling. It's a weird combination of something feeling so recent yet being a lifetime ago. 

There have been a couple trips recently where nothing felt familiar. I was desperately hoping for a glimmer of recognition, but it often didn't come. And something about that felt really sad.

I had a couple moments of recognition on this trip (particularly, when I saw the Esplanadi and thought the facing shops - although many of them have moved locations - and the Marimekko fashion show that I stumbled upon). It literally was just over 20 years ago that I was there.

Anyway, some things that stuck out to me this time:

• If you are with a baby and stroller, it is free for you to ride the rail service
• They don't (need to) chain up tables/chairs on outdoor patios overnight
• Everyone seems to have a Marimekko tote bag
• Lots of lactose-free products because the Finnish don't understand why you need to suffer through bloating 
• So many second-hand clothing stores...and I don't mean the 'vintage' kind. 
• Very sustainability-conscious (e.g., see point above)

Random ramblings

I'm plugging away, I think making some good progress on living, in terms of being and knowing me. Moments where I'm feeling proud of where I'm at, noticing some differences, also still recognizing and being aware of other niggly things. Basically, being human. I think even my ability to acknowledge that is a good thing.

I'm trying to tune in to things that give me joy. To notice it and give it attention and worth. To try to actively to things that give me joy. I was recently reminded that going to grocery stores give me joy. This particular (fancy-ish or artisanal) store reminded me that I like to look at fancy jams and jellies. Fancy oils and vinegars. That nice packaging and labels have an impact on me. And that when I travel, I will continue to visit grocery stores and perhaps picking up something to add to my pantry (of course, within carry-on luggage allowances!) might be something to do.

My dad recently started (radiation) treatment for cancer. (Everything seems to be going ok.) Today, the patient after my dad was wearing an orange jumpsuit, had restraints on their wrists and ankles, and accompanied by two individuals that I would assume are workers in Correctional Services. The individual was chatting with the medical practitioner as they were walking by. I had so many thoughts running through my head. Today already felt like a day where my emotions were feeling quite large, so maybe that had something to do with it, but that particular moment made my mind race and my emotions rise. I have no judgment about it (definitely with respect to the situation, and with respect to my reaction, I'm just letting myself be 'human' and reflecting on it). For some reason, I just felt documenting it in some way.

TSO concert and musings

I haven't been to the Toronto Symphony Orchestra (TSO) in probably over a decade. Do they now play the national anthem at the beginning of every performance? I wasn't expecting it and I couldn't find anything written about it on their website or in the programme so it threw me for a loop when the conductor came out and then immediately cued up the orchestra to stand and start playing. And then the audience scrambling to get to their seats a measure or so in. I mean, it was lovely to hear the piece beautifully played, but I did think through the logistics of this. Anyway, something to consider.

At some point during the concert, I also starting thinking about the learned etiquette or culture of (classical music) performances. Knowing that applause is reserved for the end of a piece (as opposed to, for example, the end of each movement of a concerto). That a standing ovation seems to be common practice for soloists and at the end of a concert. I don't think I'm knowledgeable and experienced enough to know if they are always warranted, but I'm also not making any statements about the quality of this particular performance. But I do also wonder the typical knowledge base of audience members and would assume that while there would be folks who are knowledgeable/experienced enough to make an appropriate judgment, there are others who don't. I can imagine there are folks that are also follow the crowd's response. And do soloists always come prepared with pieces for encores - is this now a standard expectation and/or part of the culture? Does it come hand in hand with the standing ovation phenomenon? Are audiences trying to get more bang for their buck? 

I started thinking about the accessibility of such performances. Who attends these concerts? What is the demographic? How do parents introduce their children to classical music and/or this etiquette/culture? What efforts to organizations take on this front? (I remember taking a field trip to Roy Thompson Hall - including being encouraged/allowed to play a Bach piece on their organ; I remember getting handouts and activities targeted to kids from a performance; I remember benefiting from TSOUNDCHECK.) I know that my parents were very deliberate with the experiences that I was afforded as a child. And the literal investment that it entailed. I am so grateful.

I started thinking about what I would do to if introducing someone to their 'world'. I started thinking about the benefits of sitting in different areas of the concert hall and what might be more/less visible. (Note: if I go to a concert with a pianist, I have a preferred sitting location.) 

I had forgotten about the amount of stars that exist in Roy Thompson Hall. The expedition to the women's washroom was enlightening (they are plentiful, but a set up that is not necessarily intuitive). 

Anyway, can you tell that I can have an active mind and that, while the performance itself was enjoyable, my mind still wandered to various places? 

Here are the concert details from the TSO website (pasting here because who knows if the actual page will disappear after the season is over). 

*** 

Eva Ollikainen and acclaimed pianist Mao Fujita bring the full range of emotion to Brahms’s stormy Piano Concerto No. 1, followed by Stravinsky’s The Firebird, a spellbinding work that bursts with vivid orchestral colours, transporting listeners to a fantastical realm of daring heroes, enchanted princesses, and otherworldly magic.

Eva Ollikainen, conductor
Mao Fujita, piano

Brahms: Piano Concerto No. 1
Arvo Pärt: Symphony No. 1 “Polyphonic”
Stravinsky: Suite from The Firebird (1919 revision)

 

Lists of films from festivals past

...I just felt like listing the different films that I've seen at festivals in the past couple years. 

 

Hot Docs 2022

(descriptions based on what I could find in the internet) 

 

Aftershock - In October 2019, 30-year-old Shamony Gibson tragically died 13 days following the birth of her son. Two months later, the film team began documenting Shamony's surviving mother, Shawnee Benton Gibson, and bereaved partner, Omari Maynard, as they began to process what happened and figure out their new normal.In April 2020, 26-year-old Amber Rose Isaac, died due to an emergency c-section. Within weeks of Amber's death, Omari reaches out to Amber's surviving partner Bruce McIntyre and a lifelong bond is formed. Together, Omari and Bruce begin the fight for justice for their partners with their families and community by their side, while caring for their children as newly single parents.The film witness these two families become ardent activists in the maternal health space, seeking justice through legislation, medical accountability, community, and the power of art. Their work introduces a myriad of people including a growing brotherhood of surviving Black fathers, along with the work of midwives and physicians on the ground fighting for institutional reform. Through their collective journeys, the film brings us to the front lines of the growing birth justice movement that is demanding systemic change within our medical system and government. Trailer

 

The Exiles - Brash and opinionated, Christine Choy is a documentarian, cinematographer, professor, and quintessential New Yorker whose films and teaching have influenced a generation of artists. In 1989 she started to film the leaders of the Tiananmen Square pro-democracy protests who escaped to political exile following the June 4th massacre. Though Choy never finished that project, she now travels with the old footage to Taiwan, Maryland, and Paris in order to share it with the dissidents who have never been able to return home. Trailer

 

The Last Lap Dance - The film first reveals the struggle to close the strip clubs in Tel Aviv, from the point of view of the strippers, and documents the first public struggle of sex workers in Israel, a struggle that was almost completely ignored by the media. A follow-up film over the years that reveals to the audience a different and unfamiliar view of sex facts in Israel and of the organizations that struggle with them. 

 

***

 

TIFF 2023

(descriptions based on Festival write-ups)

 

Backspot - There are a lot of movies about cheerleaders, but Backspot is out to do something different. It goes behind the phony smiles of its young athletes to explore the ambition and drive that defines them. Sure, Toronto DJ and filmmaker D.W. Waterson (TIFF Filmmaker Lab ’22) still brings an irrepressible energy to the obligatory scenes of young women pushing themselves to perform dizzying feats of agility and strength. But Waterson and screenwriter Joanne Sarazen (TIFF Micki Moore Resident ’19) know their characters are still just kids, dealing with the same insecurities and challenges as everyone else. They might launch themselves into the air like superheroes, but one wrong move will bring them crashing to the ground. Riley (Devery Jacobs, who also produced) can’t afford to make that wrong move. The ferocious competitor and furious perfectionist finds herself under pressure when she and her girlfriend Amanda (Kudakwashe Rutendo, TIFF Rising Star ’23) are both selected for an elite cheer squad. As the diamond-hard coach (Evan Rachel Wood) and her assistant (Thomas Antony Olajide, TIFF Rising Star ’21) put them through their paces, Riley’s anxiety escalates, and a compulsive behaviour intensifies. Something’s going to break… but whether it’s physical or emotional is anybody’s guess. A decade after her revelatory turn in Jeff Barnaby’s Rhymes for Young Ghouls (TIFF ’13), Jacobs has grown into a performer who holds the screen like no one else. She understands that acknowledging one’s vulnerability is a formidable strength, and Backspot is about watching Riley figure that out as well. TIFF film page. Trailer.

 

The Movie Emperor - Andy Lau is the consummate screen legend. With a career spent traversing genres, Lau has shown he can melt hearts, dispatch bad guys, and scale the heights of art house cinema. He is also one of Asia's biggest pop stars. And so he’s perfect to play a megastar looking for a change in this insightful send-up of the movie business from director Ning Hao. Lau Wai-Chi (Lau) is a Hong Kong movie star with legions of devoted fans and a constant eye on his competition. His fame has drawn him inside an ever-tighter circle, where all he can do is keep his body perfect and worry what other star is snagging an award or a big role that should be his. Vulnerable and sensing the need for a new image, Lau is persuaded to take the starring role in a humble indie drama where the protagonist is a village pig farmer. Lau and the director — played by Ning Hao himself — agree this foray into miserabilist cinema will be just what foreign film festivals crave. As Lau begins the painstaking process of learning how to play the role convincingly, we witness a series of pitch-perfect take-downs of film industry pretension. Like Robert Altman's The Player, the satire here is merciless, but still allows for genuine feeling. Lau proves brilliantly adept at sending up the anxieties of millionaire movie stars while also revealing the sensitive soul of an artist. Smart, entertaining, and gorgeous to look at, The Movie Emperor is a joy to watch... especially at a festival. TIFF film page. Trailer. 

 

Sing Sing - Based on the real-life arts rehabilitation programme founded at Sing Sing Correctional Facility, Greg Kwedar’s new film follows a troupe of incarcerated actors who work on a play as part of a theatre workshop at the prison. Every six months, the men gather in a circle of chairs, often looking to Divine G (Colman Domingo) to help decide their next play. When he recruits a new member called Divine Eye, he gets more than he bargained for. The group’s dynamic begins to shift as Divine Eye suggests they do a comedy for the first time, prompting the men to throw out a jumble of wild ideas — from pirate ships to Roman gladiators to Old West gunfights. Flustered at first, Divine G quickly starts to see Divine Eye’s discomfort with the vulnerability required for what seems like a silly pursuit. While planning for his own clemency hearing, he tries to forge a connection with Eye, as the men collectively unpack the pain of their experience while undergoing the joy and escape of creativity. Domingo gives one of the most memorable and affecting performances of his career, bolstered by a cast made up almost entirely of formerly incarcerated actors and alumni of the Rehabilitation Through the Arts programme. Their participation brings an authenticity to the group’s founding principle that human dignity must be a part of the justice system. Directed with a dynamism that matches the charm, mischief, and compassion of the men themselves, Sing Sing recognizes the value of a place we can gather in which to discuss, debate, and create, wherever that may be. It’s an ode to art as a process, much the same as life, through which we can strive to better understand ourselves and each other. TIFF film page. Trailer. 

 

*** 

 

TIFF 2024

(descriptions based on Festival write-ups)

 

Little Jaffna - Lawrence Valin’s feature debut is a crime drama that tells the story of Michael — played by the director himself — a young police officer from a Tamil family, living in Paris, as he’s tasked with infiltrating a local criminal enterprise that’s funnelling money to the Eelam liberation movement back home in Sri Lanka. Stern and always suspicious, Puvi (Puviraj Raveendran) heads a local gang that’s part of this scheme, every one of his troupe clad in vibrant clothes that match their vivacity. When Michael jumps in to help them during a fight, he’s brought into the fold, soon meeting with Aya (Vela Ramamoorthy), a former Tamil Tiger and the leader of this whole organization — who waits for him on a rooftop with a cricket bat. Puvi and Aya become pivotal figures in Michael’s life, as friend and father figure respectively, complicating his task as the group’s next clandestine move inches closer. Increasingly confronted by what’s happening in the homeland and the reality of how France treats Tamil immigrants, Michael’s identity and loyalty are tested, pulled between the community he has finally found, and the reality that his mission is to dismantle it. Valin’s first feature recalls Ladj Ly, another breakout director from France. Great casting, dynamic action, and sociopolitical storytelling make Little Jaffna a memorable showing, not just for the thrill of Michael’s journey, but also for the energy and colour that new voices bring to the screen. TIFF film page. Trailer. 

 

My Sunshine - Following his auspicious 2018 debut, Jesus, Hiroshi Okuyama’s latest feature, My Sunshine, is a beautifully crafted tale centred on two adolescent figure skaters who swirl through budding emotions and never-before-experienced motions of the soul with the same grace and trepidation that characterize their movements on the ice. This touching and simple story, set on a small Japanese island, follows young hockey player Takuya (Keitatsu Koshiyama), proficient skater Sakura (Kiara Nakanishi), figure-skating tutor Arakawa (Sōsuke Ikematsu), and his boyfriend (Ryûya Wakaba). Takuya, a shy boy with a stutter, doesn’t feel at ease playing hockey with his schoolmates but is completely taken by Sakura’s graceful figure skating and decides to start following her coach, former champion Arakawa, just to be near her. As the story unfolds against cold and beautiful winter sceneries, it strays away from typical sports movie clichés and focusses on the bond of friendship that forms between its three protagonists. Capturing interpersonal dynamics and the subtle sensitivities typical of adolescence with insight and empathy, the film often recalls the cinema of Kore-eda Hirokazu and establishes Okuyama as a rising talent in Japanese cinema. As director, writer, cinematographer, and editor, Okuyama delivers a work of simple elegance. His exquisite and rigorous aesthetic sense is applied with precision to the composition of each frame, rendering the snowy landscapes and indoor ice rinks with a delicate and ethereal beauty, much like his narrative. A testament to Okuyama’s evolving artistic voice, My Sunshine underscores the relevance of quiet, introspective storytelling. TIFF film page. Trailer.

 

Really Happy Someday - Before he transitioned, Z (Breton Lalama) was a rising star in Toronto’s musical-theatre scene; his Éponine in Les Misérables is still the stuff of local legend. But now, with testosterone injections affecting his voice, Z must figure out how to sing in his new register in order to return to the thing he loves most — and, in the process, integrate his past and present selves. With the encouragement of his partner Danielle (Khadijah Roberts-Abdullah), Z finds Shelly (Ali Garrison), a vocal coach who can help him retrain his instrument. But until he can get back to auditioning, Z needs a day job — and he winds up as a barback at Squirly’s on Queen West, working for Santi (Xavier Lopez), who, as it happens, turns out to be very sympathetic to his situation. Really Happy Someday is a small movie, made by a tiny team. Director J Stevens and Lalama wrote and produced it together; Stevens also acted as cinematographer. The narrative is drawn from Stevens’ and Lalama’s own lived experiences, told as authentically as possible. Indeed, Z’s retraining sessions with Shelly are more or less real: Garrison is a veteran voice coach, and when Z hits a note he didn’t think he could reach, the amazement on his face belongs to the performer as much as the character. But Really Happy Someday isn’t just about a person learning to sing again. It's about community, and identity, and learning to live in a skin that finally feels like your own. TIFF film page. Trailer.

 

Rez Ball - With her third feature film, director and co-writer Sydney Freeland shares a deeply inspiring and energetic account of overcoming adversity and finding one’s purpose. Based on a remarkable true story and set in the sprawling and beautiful Navajo Nation, Rez Ball follows one unforgettable season in the lives of the Chuska Warriors boys’ basketball team. Fronted by the charismatic local hero Nataanii Jackson (Kusem Goodwind), the team is searching for a way out of its current losing streak, which frustrated community members blame on Coach Hobbs (Jessica Matten), herself a former basketball star. But Nataanii is struggling with the tragic deaths of his mother and sister and, after a devastating turn of events results in his passing, the team is left even more bereft and rudderless. The heir apparent to lead the team is Nataanii’s best friend, Jimmy Holiday (Kauchani Bratt), whose own family and financial struggles threaten to derail his hoop dreams. As their slump continues, Hobbs, Jimmy, and the rest of the team must find a new path forward. Inspired by their language and culture, they develop a uniquely Navajo twist to playing basketball — which they dub “Rez Ball” — leading to an unexpected win streak that keeps alive their hopes of competing for the state championships. With a tender and assured lens, Freeland explores complex and sensitive topics with grace and care as she draws out impressive performances from her cast, including a radiant Bratt in his debut performance. The film is executive produced by NBA superstar LeBron James and co-written by Reservation Dogs creator Sterlin Harjo. TIFF film page. Trailer.

 

The Wolves Always Come at Night - Seamlessly blending documentary and fiction, The Wolves Always Come at Night is a timely reminder of the sometimes tenuous foundations of the places we call home. Born to generations of herders in Mongolia’s immense Bayankhongor region, young couple Daava (Davaasuren Dagvasuren) and Zaya (Otgonzaya Dashzeveg) are raising their four children as they were brought up: with an intimate connection to the land and the animals they share their lives with. After an unexpectedly severe sandstorm leaves a devastating impact in its wake, Daava and Zaya must make a once-unthinkable decision that will irrevocably change their family’s lives. With herding now untenable, they relocate to the city for work, as hundreds of thousands have done before them. For Daava, this includes selling his beloved stallion whose absence leaves a lingering hole in his heart. Once in Ulaanbaatar, the family sets up in the ger district, a sprawling yurt settlement on the city’s outskirts where most of the former herders now live, and where overpopulation and pollution thrive. Director Gabrielle Brady lays bare the emotional ruptures of climate change and urban migration on Mongolian herders, told through the experiences of one family. Dagvasuren and Dashzeveg, also credited as the film’s co-writers, are revelatory. The quiet heartbreak they endure is etched on their faces as they drift ever further from the herding life and culture they deeply love, yearning for a day they can return to their home and hoping, likely in vain, that it doesn’t cease to exist. TIFF film page. Trailer.

 

***

 

Hot Docs 2025 

(descriptions based on Festival write-ups)

 

#skoden - When director Damien Eagle Bear started his journey as a filmmaker, the first person he interviewed was Pernell Bad Arm, a homeless man he encountered while filming at a Lethbridge, Alberta shelter. Years later, Eagle Bear encounters Bad Arm’s face again—online, in a meme. Initially used disrespectfully by non-Indigenous people, the image was soon reclaimed by Indigenous memers, who added the popular Rez catchphrase “skoden” (from “let’s go, then”), transforming it into a rallying cry. The meme went viral. Revisiting his early recordings, Eagle Bear delves into the story of the man behind the image, speaking to Bad Arm’s family members and friends. His story reveals the complex relationship between Lethbridge and its unhoused Indigenous population, offering a poignant humanist perspective on Canada’s growing street community. Trailer

 

Marlee Matlin: Not Alone Anymore - A trailblazer in Hollywood, now Marlee Matlin gets to tell her story in full. Her legacy was cemented when she became the first Deaf actor to win an Academy Award for her starring role in Randa Haines’s Children of a Lesser God. Beyond her ground-breaking performance, however, Matlin’s fight for representation in the film and television community became paramount. In her filmmaking debut, director Shoshannah Stern shines a light on American Sign Language speakers who have continually sought space in cinema, a medium that rarely brings their work to the fore. Through candid and open dialogue, Matlin covers some of the difficult moments in her life while also unpacking the impact she has had in an industry that has made her carry the weight of an entire community. Trailer 

 

Mr. Nobody Against Putin - Pasha works as a teacher in a small Russian town. Beloved for his goofy and progressive attitude, he provides safe haven for his students, who find themselves in an otherwise regressive and stoic society. With Russia’s full-scale invasion of Ukraine comes a new directive from the government: teachers must begin spreading state-sponsored propaganda. Pasha, also the school’s videographer, is tasked with recording sessions of this indoctrination and sending video proof to state representatives. Horrified by the transformation of his school and his community, he begins to capture other scenes: the rise of fanatic nationalism, the militarization of children’s groups, and the enacting of authoritarian laws. Pasha is faced with a dilemma. What should he do with the footage that reveals Vladimir Putin’s cruel regime? He can either delete it and keep quiet or share it with the world. He chooses the latter and so becomes the world’s friendliest whistleblower. Filmed in secret over two years, Mr. Nobody Against Putin is an incredible tale of bravery and standing by one’s beliefs in the most suffocating of circumstances—even when doing so means leaving all you love behind. Trailer

 

Siksikakowan: The Blackfoot Man - “Growing up in Siksika, masculinity was all around me but was unclear. Now, using my lens, I seek to find clarity.” Grounded on the land that has provided for his ancestors since time immemorial, filmmaker Sinakson Trevor Solway, addresses the past by looking forward with generations of Blackfoot men who are rebuilding culture and community in their work and recreation. Each of them has a unique journey and story to share about the challenges they face. Important introspective questions frame thoughtful observations about what modern masculinity does and doesn’t look like, especially for those who have been stigmatized and misunderstood. Roping cattle, singing, playing hockey and participating in Ceremony all play distinct yet important roles in how these men support each other. Artists, athletes, ranchers and many others share vulnerable and authentic reflections on their lives that culminate in an exceptional vérité portrait of kinship and resilience for these Siksika sons, fathers, husbands and brothers. Trailer 

 

Spreadsheet Champions - This charming documentary follows six students representing their countries in competition at the Microsoft Office Specialist World Championship in the Excel section, the most prestigious and challenging element of the competition. Each a national champion, these students from Australia, Cameroon, Greece, Guatemala, the United States and Vietnam travel to Orlando, Florida, where a win could offer life-changing academic and career opportunities. The competition provides the chance for them to compete and be challenged by other students, all of whom are the smartest kids in their class and come from a range of socio-economic backgrounds. The film highlights the importance of the support the students receive from their families, friends and each other, while these incredibly talented young minds learn to handle the ups and downs of setback and failure—not through formulas and data-handling, but by living the experience. Trailer 

 

The Last Ambassador - It is Manizha Bakhtari’s conviction that one day soon, she, her family and all refugees from Afghanistan will be able to return to their beloved homeland. Since the Taliban’s takeover in 2021, she remains her country’s only female ambassador, even though she is no longer recognized by its current government. From her (now unofficial) office in Vienna, and despite constant threats to her safety, Bakhtari defiantly fights gender discrimination, secretly educating Afghan schoolgirls through her Daughters programme and relentlessly mobilizing the international political community to join her cause. A devoted mother and wife, she is also the daughter of the renowned Afghan poet Wasef Bakhtari. Through extraordinary access, The Last Ambassador leads us to an understanding of why Bakhtari is risking her life. The film intimately captures a woman deeply committed to her people, her culture and her land, which is so close, and yet unreachable. Bakhtari reminds us that we cannot continue to look away from the women of Afghanistan. Trailer 

 

***

 

TIFF 2025

(descriptions based on Festival write-ups)

 

Between Dreams and Hope - A window into the burgeoning underground queer community of Iran, Between Dreams and Hope centres on a young pair with dreams like many others — to live joyfully without restrictions on their love. Azad (Fereshteh Hosseini), a trans man, and his partner Nora (Sadaf Asgari) thrive amongst like-minded friends, a haven of self-expression and acceptance, in bustling Tehran. They live blissfully, but when Azad takes steps towards medically transitioning, he is troubled to learn that his estranged father must grant his permission or the process would be halted indefinitely. Although wary, the couple travel to Azad’s hometown to plead their case to his family. The return is not welcome, and when Azad disappears during a row, Nora must find her lover, with little assistance or care from the local authorities. With this stunning and unspeakably brave entrant into the queer canon, Farnoosh Samadi (180° Rule, TIFF ’20) highlights the supreme tension between Iran’s so-called radical youth who engage with queer identity and feminist ideals — amongst other revolutions such as the ongoing “Women, Life, Freedom” movement — and the restrictive violence of conservative generations supported by the overarching regime. Harnessing daring and memorable performances from Hosseini and Asgari, and shooting even the most despairing moments with empathy, Samadi’s eye is gripping and sincere. As the stakes escalate, the film balances a tragic potential outcome with deep-rooted love, never absolving hatred as a thing of the past and crucially, never submitting to desolation in the face of tyranny. TIFF film page. Trailer

 

Dinner With Friends - With so many major distractions like kids and careers, adult friendships are hard to maintain, reducing in-person quality time to a minimum. That is the basis of Dinner With Friends, the feature debut of Sasha Leigh Henry (Sinking Ship, TIFF ’20; Bria Mack Gets a Life, TIFF ’23). Channelling films like The Big Chill, Husbands and Wives, and Past Lives for inspiration, Dinner With Friends follows eight longtime friends as they meet up for dinner parties — sometimes after months have passed — that often end in surprise announcements and hurt feelings. Henry, alongside frequent collaborator Tania Thompson, takes topics that are realistic and mundane, like caring for aging parents or sitting in city traffic, and uses those as launching points for major drama and full character developments. Fittingly, we only ever see the group together, with the exception of the first scenes introducing long-married couple Joy (Tattiawna Jones) and Malachi (Alex Spencer) as they debate whether to put in the effort to reunite the friend group. Once together, long-held tensions and inside jokes lend authenticity, suggesting these friends have spent their twenties together. Dinner With Friends offers a look inside this set of millennials, with full access to their group chat and a seat at their tables, begrudgingly hosted by anyone except for the Type A Joy. TIFF film page. Trailer 

 

Meadowlarks - Based on her 2017 documentary Birth of a Family, acclaimed filmmaker Tasha Hubbard has turned to drama for the first time. With Meadowlarks, she takes the story of four siblings, separated as babies, who are reuniting 50 years later during a week spent in Banff. Kicking off with awkward small talk, gifts, and forced bonding events, the one brother and three sisters do their best to get to know one another after decades apart. Their forced separation at birth was part of the Sixties Scoop, the term given for the then-common practice of removing Indigenous children from their families, often without consent, and placing them with the child welfare system. While documentaries have covered this topic over the years, nothing has ever fictionalized the experience of uniting as adults and coping with the consequences. To tell her story, Hubbard has assembled a terrific roster of Indigenous acting stars to play the siblings, including Michael Greyeyes (40 Acres, TIFF ’24), Michelle Thrush (Bones of Crows, TIFF ’22), Carmen Moore (Unnatural & Accidental, TIFF ’06), and Alex Rice (On the Corner, TIFF ’03). Their surname translates to Meadowlarks. An emotional journey handled with care, respect, and beauty — one of the Birth of a Family siblings is credited on Meadowlarks as executive producer while Hubbard is a Sixties Scoop survivor — Meadowlarks will leave you in tears, hugging your family members closer. TIFF film page. Trailer

 

Powwow People - Visionary director Sky Hopinka’s Powwow People invites audiences into the vibrant orbit of a powwow. And not as detached observers but as welcomed participants. Both a celebration and a radiant assertion of sovereignty, Hopinka’s second feature immerses viewers in a globally iconic First Nations event, rendered here with a cinematic language that defies easy categorization. Eschewing conventional documentary structures and narration, Hopinka deploys direct verité with subtlety and atmospheric precision to open intimate spaces where dancers, singers, and drummers prepare to enter the circle. Among them: a charismatic emcee, a Two-Spirit dancer imagining new futures, and a host of intergenerational presences that mark time in gesture, regalia, and rhythm. Shot over three days and unfolding across the arc of a single one, the film moves from daylight into darkness, where the participants’ arrivals, preparations, and performances braid memory, motion, humour, and cultural resonance, culminating in a mesmeric 30-minute unbroken shot of a Northern Traditional dance special. A multidisciplinary artist and academic whose work has reshaped the aesthetics of Indigenous cinema, Hopinka continues to reconfigure how we look at, listen to, and witness Indigenous experiences. With Powwow People, he subverts the extractive lens of ethnography, co-organizing the powwow itself and inviting the dancers, vendors, singers, and spectators into a consciously constructed collaboration for film. This is not a document of a powwow. It is a powwow in cinematic form. TIFF film page. Trailer 

 

Steve - Director Tim Mielants and Oscar winner Cillian Murphy reunite, after Small Things Like These and Peaky Blinders, for a powerful adaptation of author and screenwriter Max Porter’s bestselling 2023 novella, Shy. It’s the mid-’90s. Steve (Murphy) is the passionate head of a crumbling “last chance” reform school for teenage boys. With meagre resources, overstretched staff, and a mounting sense of futility, Steve must navigate one pivotal and precarious day made more tense by the arrival of a documentary news crew profiling the school, and the result may prove to be more exposé than commendation. The school is part institution and part last-ditch social experiment conducted in a shoddy rural manor house run by tired adults who believe their students still have something to offer the world. The boys, meanwhile, navigate an uneasy border between volatility and vulnerability. Mielants captures this tension and the quiet ruptures of the day with raw immediacy, shifting between verité-style footage (complete with interviews) and intimate glimpses of private moments. Fights break out, staff flounder, and mistakes are made as Steve clings to the belief that things will turn out well. Murphy, in a performance that glows with haunted conviction, anchors a remarkable cast. Jay Lycurgo is extraordinary as Shy, a young man fighting the undertow of his own mind, pulled between despair and the faintest flicker of possibility. Tracey Ullman and Emily Watson bring grounded, aching depth to roles shaped by care and compromise. Steve is a bruised elegy for institutions under siege and a character study shaped by the courage of those who persist within them; a chamber piece of forceful commitment, lost boys, and stubborn acts of hope. TIFF film page. Trailer

 

The Secret Agent - Brazilian filmmaker and TIFF veteran Kleber Mendonça Filho delivers one of the year’s greatest films with The Secret Agent, a sly, genre-bending political thriller starring Wagner Moura in a brilliant performance as Marcelo, a technology researcher on the lam in 1977 during Brazil’s notorious military dictatorship. The film begins with Marcelo headed to the northern city of Recife — the filmmaker’s oft-portrayed hometown — seeking asylum and to be closer to his young son. Arriving during the raucous celebrations of Carnival, Marcelo is welcomed by a colourful community of political refugees, yet an insidious atmosphere of surveillance, paranoia, and danger encircles him. Mendonça Filho spotlights corruption everywhere, from the sleazy local police chief and his ruthless deputies to the director of the state identification archives where Marcelo is simultaneously working, hiding, and searching for his mother’s official ID card. Told in three parts, and toggling between multiple timelines, The Secret Agent reveals its plot in a puzzle-play of intrigue and information that reflects the ways in which truth is often concealed and memory contradicted under oppressive regimes. The film functions as a précis for the authoritarian playbook. Yet, it is also a thrilling and pleasurable neo-noir steeped in Mendonça Filho’s love for and knowledge of cinema, with film references including Jaws (screening this year as part of TIFF Classics). The film was shot with Panavision anamorphic lenses and vintage camera equipment, replicating the visual style of the 1970s.Winner of multiple awards at this year’s Cannes Film Festival and driven by a grim, hypnotic tension, The Secret Agent is essential viewing. TIFF film page. Trailer

 

Whistle - You can whistle while you work, whistle like a lark, or whistle in the face of danger. There’s a reason so many expressions use the word to evoke joy conquering gloom. Surely, we can use more of that. In this delightful film, we meet some of the world’s virtuosos as they gather to compete in the Masters of Musical Whistling competition. At the helm is competition founder Carole Anne Kaufman, who operates the Hollywood event as a labour of love. She alternates between charm and grit to manage fraught finances, technical mishaps, and tender personalities. Filmmaker Christopher Nelius is attuned to the comic aspects of putting on a show with hints of Waiting for Guffman. Indeed, the whistling contestants are a bit quirky, but they’re also talented and charming. Among the international participants are Japan’s Yuki Takeda, a regular contender who has repeatedly come in second; Spain’s Ayna Ziordia Botella, the daughter of a circus performer, who has nurtured hopes of winning since childhood; Molly Lewis, a Los Angeles–based performer who whistled in the movie Barbie and recorded the album On the Lips; and Jay Winston, who gave up on Broadway dreams to teach at a New Jersey high school. Whistle joins the beloved subgenre of competition documentaries exemplified by titles such as Spellbound, Air Guitar Nation, and The Speed Cubers. The allure of these films is that we enter a world where people master a skill more for love than money. These whistlers may never achieve fame and fortune, but they will win a place in your heart. TIFF film page.

 

You Had to Be There: How the Toronto Godspell Ignited the Comedy Revolution, Spread Love & Overalls, and Created a Community That Changed the World (In a Canadian Kind of Way) - On June 1, 1972, a humble production of a hit musical retelling of the Book of Matthew officially opened its run at the Royal Alexandra Theatre in downtown Toronto. As for what happened next, that may be most accurately expressed by the subtitle for Nick Davis’ celebratory documentary, You Had to Be There: How the Toronto Godspell Ignited the Comedy Revolution, Spread Love & Overalls, and Created a Community That Changed the World (In a Canadian Kind of Way). And that’s no empty boast about a bunch of singing hippies. Based solely on the bright futures of so many of the talents who formed the cast during the 14-month run — Martin Short, Eugene Levy, Gilda Radner, Victor Garber, Andrea Martin, Dave Thomas, and Jayne Eastwood plus musical director Paul Shaffer — Godspell’s impact and influence cannot be overstated. The improvisational element of the musical itself helped foster a unique sensibility that comedy fans would soon recognize in Saturday Night Live, SCTV, and countless other TV shows and movies. As Davis’ film reveals, the Toronto Godspell was a hugely formative experience in the lives of the participants, too. With its deft mix of engaging interviews with surviving participants, animated recreations, and other means of compensating for the scarcity of original archival materials (if only audience members had smartphones in 1972), You Had to Be There brings this special time back into the present with an irrepressible sense of joy. TIFF film page. Clip

A weekend in Montreal

 Within the past two months, I've spent two weekends here in Montreal. That's the most weekend time I've spent here since 2020.

This weekend, I did some things in the city that gave/give me joy. I just tried to enjoy the city. And I tried to live in the moment and take it in. Sounds like a good way to go through life in general, but it's taken me a bit to be able to do that here, and it's still a work in progress. Don't get me wrong, Montreal has a lot of things going for it, but I have to reframe some significant experiences.

Anyway, I went to Jean Talon market today. And instead of hopping on the STM, which would have been my regular practice, I walked there. The walk is very reasonable and only discovered when a couple weeks ago, I had some friends come to visit creating a couple positive memories for me. This is what I need here. In addition to a night in Old Montreal, we also met up in Little Italy and I'd made my way home by foot. It doesn't seem like a big deal, but meeting up with them those two nights and being 'out' in the city more than I usually would was really therapeutic for me.

So I walked, I wandered, and I looked at people, nature, and the city. I picked up some items from Marché Oriental and then headed over to Jean Talon. Noticing changes and what remained constant. I meandered through, looking for the best 'deals'. I contemplated my shopping list and what the rest of the day and week might hold.

As I have often done, I bought two cheeses from La Fromagerie Hamel - a hard and a soft.

1. Laliberte - Laliberté est un fromage triple crème fait de lait de vache pasteurisé et de crème. Sa belle croûte fleurie renferme une pâte fondante aux arômes exquis de champignons à la crème. Son nom est emprunté à celui du sculpteur Alfred Laliberté, né à Ste-Elizabeth-de-Warwick.

2. Alfred fermier - Ce fromage porte fièrement le nom de notre ancêtre, Alfred (le fermier) Bolduc. Il s’agit d’un fromage fermier, au lait cru biologique de vache, à pâte pressée cuite, affiné sur planches de bois. Sa croûte jaune orangée dégage une agréable odeur boisée. Il se démarque particulièrement par sa texture souple et la complexité de ses arômes de fruits, de caramel et de miel.

And I enjoyed both with a baguette and des tomates and continue to have a good day.

This Place

 

 

Last night, I watched the world premiere of This Place, been screened as part of TIFF 2022. It was an amazing way to start my TIFF 2022 experience and return to the festival as the last time I attended was 2013.

It's become pretty clear that I gravitate towards films with themes of identity, culture, and coming of age. I also like over the top spy and heist films, but I'll get to those later in the festival.

I am also leaning in pretty hard to issues of race. BIPOC stories are particularly interesting to me. 

This film checked off a lot of boxes for me and the bonus was the fact that it was set in Toronto (which I obviously have a strong affinity towards).

While the film explores some very serious themes, there were quite a number of light moments as well. I would hope that the film would be similarly received by any audience, but it was such an enthusiastic crowd at this premiere. The film was incredibly well-introduced by director, executive producer, and co-writer V.T. Nayani. And co-lead, executive producer, and co-writer, Devery Jacobs sent a video introduction as she couldn't be in attendance. The Q&A was also incredible, with thoughtful questions and insightful answers. It really was the perfect TIFF experience.

As I said, a great start to TIFF.

Picture courtesy of www.tiff.net
 

Bones of Crows

I just got home from watching Bones of Crows at TIFF 2022. It just so happened that I was at the first public screening of the film. I feel like I was part of history. 

I had selected the film because of the content. I have a lot to learn. And while this film delivered on that front, it's also an incredible piece of art.

Watch this film. 

Picture courtesy of www.tiff.net

Little wins

Today, I got some ice cream. I even got it in a waffle cone. Roasted white chocolate and it's yummy. 

I also went to the public library to work. I haven't done that since early 2020.

Five Little Indians

 Five Little Indians, by Michelle Good.

I just finished reading this book. It's one of the best books I've read in awhile. I mean, I know I don't read a lot, but this one stands out. I woke up at 2.45am, for some reason, unable to sleep. I haven't been sleeping too well recently. Anyway, I was about 3/4 done this book and thought that this might be a good time to finish it.

Some of the earlier chapters were tough. But important. There were chapters that seemed hopeful. I'm glad.

Everyone should read this book. Or at least, know about our history and its implications.

The book is about residential schools and their survivors. It is about family and community. It is about trauma and inter-generational trauma. There is substance abuse, sexual assault, and suicide. 

Related, but by no means a comparison to communities who are deeply affected and effected by residential schools, I'm reflecting on the difference between trauma and discomfort. I think of people who get uncomfortable and mistake it for trauma. I absolutely believe trauma to be real (I surely live with it, and thankfully on a much smaller scale than others), but feel ______ (still working on identifying my emotions) about those who aren't willing to sit with their discomfort. To unpack it. To turn the attention inwards.

Changing topics again (maybe this is what happens when you can't sleep), I have been trying to read again. I'm trying to be intentional in my reading. My recent books were:
- The Reason You Walk, by Wab Kinew
- Interior Chinatown, by Charles Yu
- Klara and the Sun, by Kazuo Ishiguro

Up next will be Motorcycles & Sweetgrass, by Drew Hayden Taylor. I had actually watched this video a couple years ago and didn't put two and two together until I was doing a little digging with regards to my booklist.

- picture courtesy of www.chapters.indigo.ca

"Can I charge my therapy to the university?" and other 'fun' titles

Never did a Table of Contents feel like my truth.

I'm hesitant to read the book for fear that it will re-traumatize me. It's a tough balance between reaffirming that I am not alone and self-preservation. I know that there's tons of literature about this topic for me to consume (I've only skimmed the surface in my efforts, and that has already taken me through a range of emotions)...I have to pace myself.

Upcycling a paper carrier bag

I really appreciated seeing the process of putting together this bag. Lots of respect for all the artisans out there.

Created by Hahns Atelier.

A poem for me to remember

 Someone sent this to me recently. I'm posting it here in case I need to look it up at some point.

Give your daughters difficult names. Names that command the full use of the tongue. My name makes you want to tell me the truth. My name does not allow me to trust anyone who cannot pronounce it right.
      —Warsan Shire

Ramblings (April 29, 2021)

What to say. I am definitely feeling pandemic fatigue. While I certainly am privileged to be in a low-risk household, be able to work from home, have a stable and comfortable income, and have access to a vaccine (I got my first Pfizer shot yesterday), living through a pandemic isn't terribly enjoyable. I am doing my best to follow the government mandated guidelines and thus do not have the interactions, distractions, and stimulation that, even as the introvert that I am, turns out I appreciate. Anyway, nothing to be done about it. Just doing my part and hoping that things will evolve for the better.

I am not so motivated to be active, which kind of sucks. It's gone in waves (like a lot of things). There were a couple stints of regular activity, including youtube videos and scheduled exercise routines. Since I've moved back into my own place, I haven't felt keen on doing anything and haven't forced myself to do it (which just might be the only way to ensure that something happens at this point). I tried to do a couple longer walks and regular trips to the grocery store is another way I get out and walk. I even did a little bit of stairs in my building (a little limited though given that we only have access to certain floors in our building). For a couple weeks, I've gone for (a) bike ride(s) on the weekend. I often hope that once I'm out and about, I feel better and am glad that I got going, but it doesn't always end up that way (which is tough, because then there really isn't that payoff that you hope to get). I like moving and I think I've always been relatively active, so this feels different. Admittedly, a lot of my activities have been scheduled (e.g., classes) so there's some accountability or added incentive in terms of the cost and commitment, but I still would have thought that any activities would feel good. So it's a little disappointing that I'm not getting the (endorphin) kick that I would have expected. I suppose there will always be things in life that you don't necessarily enjoy, but you still (need to) do them.

I have been thinking about that recently. How much in my life will I need to take action? Do something that I don't particularly feel like doing. Take risks (or what feel like risks to me). Push myself out of my comfort zone. I've been reflecting on that because I feel that up to recently, things have been going ok. I'm sure in my life thus far, I'd done things all of the above. But I am currently at a place in my life that I'm not loving life as much as I used to. So, (in adult life) does the balance change in terms of the amount of 'the stuff above' that you need to do to maintain the same 'love of life'? While life wouldn't always be a cake-walk and nothing's perfect, I'm having a hard time figuring out whether I need to (force myself to) step up more (than I want to), or that there's something else in my current like that I can change that will make the difference that I'm hoping for.

I'm going to change the topic now.

I've been passing the time by watching TV shows (and then often falling down the youtube rabbit hole to watch featurettes, cast interviews, and panels). In addition to whatever shows that I've kind of been keeping up with whenever they're available to be streamed on TV provider's websites (e.g., Grey's Anatomy, Law and Order SVU, Big Brother, Survivor), I had started watching Fresh off the Boat (even before the pandemic started and was just waiting on the final season), Cheer, The Good Place, Chef's Table - Volume 1, Never Have I Ever, Schitt's Creek, Black-ish (although now I just have to wait), Mixed-ish (again, just have to wait), Grown-ish (although, it's my least favourite of the 'ish' world and I'm not sure I will continue with it), Kim's Convenience, and most recently, Superstore. There might have been others that I can't seem to remember anymore. Anyway, I need to find a new show. I had watched some full-length films towards the beginning of the pandemic, but I'm finding the length of them to be too much of a mental commitment for me right now. That doesn't mean that I haven't watched 3-5 episodes of shows back to back though. Somehow the shorter burst are just easier for me to take in right now. I also found that I was more interested in watching films that were comedies or generally, lighter content. Seems the same for my TV shows.

After watching the trailer for Shang-Chi and the Legend of the Ten Rings, which I'm kind of excited to watch that when it comes out (#representationmatters - but more about that later), I was thinking that I could go through the Marvel Comic Universe films from the beginning in preparation. I've only watched 3 or 4 films from the list so I'm clearly not big follower/fan, but I think it might be a fun activity. I like action films, I like big blockbusters, watching them in relatively close succession might be fun to try to look for Easter Eggs or make whatever rudimentary connections I can not really knowing much about anything. I'm not sure that I will watch all of the films, but got recommendations from friends who know and might instead work my way through their curated list. We'll see how it goes.

In addition to the brain fog from the pandemic, I have brain fog from attending to race, equity, identity (and whatever other words fit - I'm still working on my vocabulary). Though it's been building for a couple years now (I mean, realistically, it's probably been brewing for my entire life, but the past 6 years saw some intense acceleration), this year (I follow the academic calendar, not the Gregorian calendar), I've had the time and space to engage with these issues more explicitly and meaningfully. Some times are really great (a weak word, but I'm not sure what would make the most sense here - again, I'm still working on my vocabulary and identifying emotions), other times have been quite difficult and overwhelming. As a result of life and world events, I'm getting an extra influx of ____ (media, attention, resources, etc.). It's a work in progress. But through that, I've consciously realized that (here's the connection to the above) #representationmatters (to me), so am keen to find ____ (TV shows, films, media, etc.) to engage with that will fill that need. And I am now conscious of why I got excited about the animated film Mulan and Michelle Kwan back in the day. And more recently, when jumping on the Raptor bandwagon, getting particularly excited when Jeremy Lin got on the court (I know I missed Linsanity). So yeah, I'm excited for Shang-Chi and the Legend of the Ten Rings. 

And even looking at my list of TV shows that I've recently taken up indicates that I'm _____ (craving? interested in? excited for?) options with people of colour. And I'm always connecting more dots. When going through the full catalogue to create my short-list of films to watch at festivals, films about identity seemed to come up. I remember the first time that it came up as a key word when I was going through my short list and didn't quite understand what it meant and was perplexed as to why it seemed to be a pattern for me. But it does make sense. Turns out, I've been grappling with my identity for well, I guess it would have to be my lifetime (consciously or not, and actively or not). And if I think back and reflect on my life, it really has been a common thread. One of the last times that I spoke with a therapist, she had commented on this theme. In particular, she spoke about my tension of being a first generation Canadian, and daughter of East Asian immigrants. So race and gender of course factor into my experience and my journey to clarify my identity and place in the world.

I think I'll stop there.

Lays Chips Roasted Bree Milk Tea Flavour

Here's another one for you. The English label on the bag says "Roasted Bree Milk Tea Flavour", but the picture and a little bit of googling makes me think that it's crème brûlée. I like crème brûlée. I actually like it a lot. Crème brûlée and milk tea...I'm not so sure about. Also, given the outcome of the other chips that I recently tried, I'm a little worried. But I feel like snacking so here goes.

Shoving my nose into the bag, it smells sweet. Caramel-ish? It doesn't smell bad. I would eat a dessert that smelled like that. But this is a chip. Maybe I'm thrown off because I've been conditioned to think that chips are salty. And then I have to contend with these two bags.

The flavour...what the heck is this? It's not offensive, so that's good. Similar to the other bag, it doesn't taste how it smells. This one has a very mild taste, but yet again, I can't place it. There's a strange mouth feel - bitter (maybe the tea)? No, that's not it. Metallic? Chemically? Something that's coating the tongue? It's very bizarre.

They're not horrendous though, am I'm still eating them. I don't think they're as good as the classic North American flavours (actually, and the British flavours that I sampled), but it's hard to say if that's a sweet versus salty influence. Are there potato items that are sweet? Maybe I'm just not used to the sweet and potato combination.

I'll finish this bag. It's sort of hitting the spot. I don't think it tastes like crème brûlée and/or milk tea in particular, but how many chip flavours actually taste like what they're supposed to be if you think about it. Or, I could just have a weak palate. I think these are kind of salty, actually. And there definitely is a flavour to them. I think I'm getting that earthy 'tea' flavour as an aftertaste. I suppose the sweet-ish flavour I'm initially getting is the "bree" or crème brûlée? It's just not totally coming through.

I'd say, try this one. And see if you can figure out the flavour. I mean, I'd say try the other one too, because I think it's worth trying everything, but this one, at least I can enjoy.

Lays Chips Iced Coffee Oolong Milk Tea Flavour

I like exploring. I was exploring cheese for awhile (I'd still like to keep exploring cheeses), but the fact that I can explore chip flavours such as this kind of shows the difference in what's accessible and available to me now. I mean, I definitely didn't explore as much as I could have for the past 6 years, but I did explore in some ways but I'm skeptical that even if I'd put forth more effort, I would have come across these chips.

Anyway, the English label (I'm illiterate in Chinese) that was added on the chip bag indicates that these are Iced Coffee Oolong Milk Tea Flavour. Before I saw the label, I wondered if it was grass jelly (because of the jelly cubes in the bowl), but I guess not. Do people put coffee and tea together? Is that a thing?

I don't know if I've had coffee flavoured, or tea flavoured chips before. I'm assuming that they will be sort of sweet? I don't know if I've had sweet chips before.

Ok. Well, that was weird. I just opened the bag, and was immediately hit with a coffee smell...maybe with a dash of tea (?!?), but definitely coffee. The chips...they taste like nothing I've ever had before. They don't taste like coffee. They don't taste like tea. They don't taste like the smell that I got when I opened the bag (in fact, when I shove my nose back into the bag that initial coffee smell is gone). They have a sweet taste. Kind of caramel-ish? They are pretty crunchy. Like, maybe more crunchy that regular chips? It's almost like they feel thicker? Maybe I'm just making that up.

So the bag's been sitting here for awhile (I was just facetiming with a friend for the past hour). And I haven't been tempted to continue eating them (which is a big deal, because usually when I open a bag of chips, I eat the whole bag in one sitting). The smell had kind of settled to a Coffee Crisp-type of scent (which I guess sort of fits). I just ate another chip. And it's still a weird taste that doesn't match the smell. There's definitely an aftertaste in my mouth, which could be tea-ish. I mean, it's sort of earthy?

Needless to say, I'm not terribly impressed with these chips. I definitely wouldn't get them again. They are...curious.

March 30, 2021

 I live in a pocket of very tall buildings. There are a lot more buildings than there were the last time I lived here and at the time, I felt like there wasn't much in the way of restaurants and shops. And still a lot of empty lots that I knew would eventually become really tall buildings. It wasn't an issue though, because I had a Metropass and happily took public transportation here and there, even hopping on the streetcar for a stop or two, because, why not?

Now, most of those empty lots are filled, and as I said recently, it feels like a completely different space.

Maybe there actually is more stuff then there was before, but when walking around this morning, there seemed to be quite a lot. It requires a 10-15 minute walk past a bunch of tall buildings, but there is actually a lot more than I thought there was. In my head, that 10 minute walk is such a barrier, but I think I'm the barrier. It's not as bad as I think, and I just need to get over myself and get out there. It's easy for me to get comfortable in my abode and now go out. And somehow it seems even more onerous to have to ride an elevator to get out of my place as opposed to just opening the front door.

Even places to get groceries that I had thought were just a little too far for my liking are actually equidistant to the set up that I has been doing for the past 6 years. Sure, most of that time was taking the bus, but during the pandemic, I was walking and it wasn't that bad. It actually felt nice to go. I was also the spring and summer, so that probably helped, but the point is that I was doing it regularly and it wasn't "too out of the way" then, so it shouldn't be too out of the way now. 

I've said that I feel like I'm re-learning. But this time around (and it's been a theme that's taken over the past 5 years or so) it's like I'm trying to get over a fear. I'm not sure that fear is the right word, but it's on the side of hesitancy, or trepidation. I'm still not great at identifying emotions. But I can identify that it's a different feeling than how I used to feel. I used to feel like a curious and wondrous explorer. There have been many times over the past 6 years that I've said "I used to be". And I wonder, am I a different person? (I mean, yes, of course, I'm different. Time's passed, I have to have changed.) But, have I lost certain characteristics that I felt were core to my identity, and characteristics that I valued and appreciated? Or, if I've just been shaken up a little bit, will those characteristics come back? I don't think it's that I'm living in the past. I'm absolutely nostalgic (I've had a great life!) and think fondly about different stages of my life. It's not necessarily that I want to go back to a previous time (although, I want to sit with that thought for a bit more and unpack it), but that I want to hold on to some things. Yes, I miss having that jet set lifestyle I had when I first started this blog, but as much as I'd love to have a lot of that 'life' right now, I actually don't want to have that life now and forever. But I want the parts of me and some of those feelings/emotions that I had. I'm just using that as an example, but there really are personal attributes that I felt like were me and they seem a little less (I want to remain positive, so I will assume they're still there) prevalent. But there are times that I truly wonder. They don't feel accessible. And at time that I think they would resurface, or with certain efforts to try to get there...it just doesn't happen. People have told me I'm still me. They're still there. It'll just take some time. It'll come. I want to believe, but maybe people actually do change and I'm changed. Maybe this is my new reality and I just need to accept it? Anyway, we'll see what happens.

Also, how do people meet new people? Can/does it happen just out and about? Today, when I was walking, someone just stopped me and said 'hello'. They tried to strike up a conversation, albeit (in my interpretation), rather awkwardly. It concluded with a suggestion to grab a coffee. I declined. There were many thoughts going on through my mind. I thought about the fact that my plan was to get home so that I could get work done. It's a weekday, and I try to work on weekdays. But, technically, I didn't have a meeting until much later in the day and there was nothing urgent that I didn't to get to. So, was I being reasonable (with myself) in saying that work was stopping me from saying yes? I thought about the fact that it's a pandemic and that gathering with people for coffee might not be ideal. But technically, it was just one other person and we could have sat outside. So, was I being reasonable (with myself) in saying that the pandemic was stopping me from saying yes? I know (as a fact) that I've been so well trained to be skeptical (that's actually putting it mildly) of strangers, which is related to the fact that I'm a woman, and even more heightened by the fact that the stranger was a man. So, was I being reasonable (with myself) in saying that them being a stranger kept me from saying yes? Yet, meeting a new person and making a connection are both things that intrigue me. I'm going to think about it a little bit more.

Relatedly, saying "yes" is something I've thought about as well. Yes day, week of yes, month of yes, year of yes...is this reasonable and realistic? Can their be rules, guidelines, and/or boundaries to this? Or does that defeat the purpose? I suppose it's important to first identify the purpose. I'm going to think about this a little bit more as well.

March 23, 2021

 I just came back from a walk. I haven't been out a lot recently - it just hasn't been a priority. But I'm trying to make it one. As I continue to re-familiarize myself with my surroundings, I'm trying to take different paths (even if going to the same place). I tend to do that anyway (I think I get bored with the same scenery, or put with a positive spin, I'm interested in exploring), but I'm hoping that the more ground I cover, the more settled I'll feel.

I am looking around a lot as I walk. I think more than most people do. I wonder if people notice. Do they wonder why, instead of looking ahead, I'm looking all around. And not even just with my eyes, I know my whole head is moving. It could be that I look like a tourist, but I 'feel' like I've even more extreme. Like, tourists would stop, perhaps take pictures...whereas I'm still moving. Moving but constantly looking. And staring. I suppose I could stop, but I feel like I would be constantly stopping. In some ways I feel like a child. A child who is seeing things for the first time. And I suppose I am seeing a lot of things for the first time. They weren't there the last time I walked these streets. Or they look totally different with this pandemic light. But I feel that I'm not behaving in the socially/culturally accepted way. I am STARING. But I'm ok with that. I mean, I' am clearly thinking about it, but I'm gonna do me. And I'm ok with me.

I walked by a COVID-19 Vaccination Clinic today. It made me feel something (I'm still working on identifying my emotions, and more specifically, developing my vocabulary). I don't know what it looked like inside the building, but there were lines outside. Lines of elderly people. They could have been my grandparents (I wish I had grandparents). Or, actually, my parents (my dad got his first shot two weeks ago, and my mom was supposed to get her first this morning - I'll need to check how that went). Most, if not all of the folks were in pairs. Were they both getting their shots? Was one there for moral support? Was one a caregiver? Were they two people, but going through live together? Some seemed to provide physical support. Those taking slow and tentative steps. Those who needed a hand or an arm. The front-line staff went from person to person, confirming their appointment time...and asking if anyone needed a chair to sit on. Several folks in the line had chairs. Around the corner and down the stairs, was another line for accessible access. More folks with grey and white hair. More folks with stooped backs. More folks with masks. It made me feel a lot of feelings - thinking a lot about the past year. Thinking about the vaccinations that were going on in that building and all around the world. 

I read books, magazines, newspapers, blogs, etc. I watch TV, youtube, movies, etc. I listen to the radio, conversations, etc. But somehow when I see it, really just see it in front of me. That's when I feel the most feels.

A new chapter

 Coming up with a title for this post took more energy than expected. I decided to just write something and not put too much into it so that I could get to writing the post itself. At the end of the day, coming up with the "best" title probably isn't the most important thing. Coming up with a title that I can live with and getting to actually posting something is more important for me.

I had thought of starting to write/post/blog again in the fall. The fall had marked an "official" new chapter in my life and thought it might be a nice time to start back up again. But it didn't become a priority. Then I thought that January might be a good time to start again. A new year (if following the Gregorian calendar), so another way to mark a new beginning. But it still didn't become a priority. 

Then I kind of thought about March 13th as a date that I would try again. The date in 2020 that things in my world officially shut down due to the COIVD-19 pandemic. A year in and still going. So a date on which to reflect. 

And while the pandemic has been devastating in many ways, I am also grateful. For me, the pandemic resulted in a forced break and distance from some things that were having a very negative impact on me. Without the pandemic, I'm sure I would have managed (because that's just what would have happened), but I'm grateful for the intervention. It was a pause. A stop. An eject. Things had already boiled over, but I just kept going. And I already had some things in place for the fall that I was hoping would help, but getting some relief in March instead was much appreciated.

The initial isolation was fine, well, it was actually good. I rested. I started my recovery. Actually, I'm not sure if I was ready to recover yet, I think I was more at a place of just stopping the damage. The pandemic gave me (personally, and to others) the permission to prioritize myself. Well, it's true that perhaps before the pandemic, had I prioritized myself in my interactions with others, I may have been equally accepted, so it might have been more of a personal issue, but to some extent, I believe that personal dilemma was a result of social conditioning and external pressures. The shut down resulted in a change in my schedule. I also didn't have to face (literally) many of my triggers. And for the most part, I could choose when I wanted to engage. I want to pause here and say that I recognize my privilege and how fortunate I am/was to be in a situation where the pandemic led to these positive implications (including even having a job to begin with).

The pandemic also facilitated better social connections. Ironically, the pandemic led me to be more social. Reaching out to folks to see how they were doing led to setting up Zoom, Skype, Facetime, and Googlemeet chats. I have touched base more regularly with a friend who lives across the country and was a support even before this 6-year journey, but was literally there when I got the first official notification of the move. I have daily check-ins with a friend who has given me such understanding and reassurance during so many new experiences. I have monthly (virtual) get-togethers with a group whom I haven't regularly kept in touch with over the past 6 years. I have weekly get-togethers with a group whom I know will be there for me when I need them. And there are others. In reality, these connections could have been happening before the pandemic, but life just kind of goes the way it does, and again, I'm grateful that the pandemic stepped in to prompt them to occur. While part of me wonders how things would have unfolded if I had acted on these connections earlier, it doesn't matter because we're in the here and now, and I'm so grateful for where I am now. I hope that I continue to take the initiative to reach out and stay connected.

It's pretty clear that I wasn't in a great place for awhile. I'm better now, but I'm not really where I want to be. Pandemic aside, there are still a lot of unknowns about the future, and that's really unsettling for me. 

I've made some (what I feel are pretty significant) decisions that I hope will result in positive change. That being said, they are not decisions that I had wanted or expected to have to make in my life. And while I said earlier that no matter when, I will manage, I've never wanted to be the person who "manages", rather my personal expectation and assumption was to "thrive". What I envisioned "thriving" to look like, isn't really happening (or doesn't seem like a possibility). So we'll see how things will unfold.

It's kind of hard (for me) to revise what almost 40 years of an impression of what "thriving" looks like. But I'm moving forward. I have no choice. Something's happening. I'm trying to find my way. And I'm trying to find myself. From time to time, I notice differences. So those moments are reassuring. Other times can be tough. But generally speaking, I'm doing better. 

So here I am, in a different place (physically, emotionally, mentally...). We'll see what happens next. I'm taking things one day at a time, and learning to be kind to myself. It's/I'm a work in progress.

5 years of...something...

The past five years have been big. For SO many reasons that I can't get into at this point (e.g., not wanting to take the time, not having fully processed it all), and while it's been uncomfortable at times (and has had a direct impact on reducing the frequency of blog posts), I guess (optimism?!?) it's made me a better/strong/whatever person and regardless, it happened so I have to accept it.
I feel very fortunate to have grown up in Scarborough. It's a great city. I had a great childhood. I enjoyed my school experience. I enjoyed my social experience. I enjoyed my cultural experience. But it's only in the past five years that I wonder if it was too good. That it made me take things for granted. That it sheltered me from some realities.
Now, I did my undergrad in a very different context. And I lived in Europe for a couple years. Sure, I've had a idyllic life, but it's not like I've been in a total bubble.
I think I've been pretty Pollyanna to a lot of things. Naivity, optimism, superficial...not sure what to label it as, but there are many important issues that I'm aware of, but never seemed to internalize. Often if it didn't hit close to home, it was difficult for me to connect to.
That's not to say things haven't happened in my life. Especially explicitly yucky things. I have been called names. I have memories of interactions between my dad and random people on the street. Things that have hurt and have clearly stuck.
I don't know exactly how it all worked out. Was it becoming an adult? Was it the fact that issues are more discussed in public spheres? Was it moving to a different context? Was it academia?
Point is, I've been grappling with things that I never seemed to have grappled with and it's confusing. It's terrifying. It's uncomfortable. It's upsetting.
I wonder if I've been in denial thus far. I wonder if it's real. I wonder what I'm meant to do about it. I wonder how I'm supposed to cope.
I've done a lot of reading (and reflecting) on it all. In particular, today's post was spurred on by this article. But I don't to reduce it to just the messages in the article (I mean, I already have some privileges that others don't and thankfully don't experience things that others do). I'd want to link to so many articles, but also don't want those to be interpreted as the ones representing my dilemma. It's a much bigger thing that I'm vaguely discussing here that (to the extent that I've started writing many post like this in the past and then deleted them) I don't want to be misinterpreted (and I still fear that I will be). I don't have the language to articulate it. I often wonder if I don't fully know what I'm dealing with, but I'm perhaps (or, colleagues assure me) I do know, it's just that I might not be able to communicate about it in a way that I would like. Listen to your gut, they say. My problem is that I have self-doubt, am in denial, and/or .
I have colleagues who work in certain fields that have a particular and definite perspective about the thoughts that I share with them. I'm not sure if I fully agree with their world-views, but I can't ignore it. I want to take bits and pieces. It's complex. My interpretation of their views is that it's not. (Apologies. That's simplifying it too much - they definitely think it's complex, but the base of the situation seems straightforward.)
Anyway, I'm starting to loose steam. Not sure how to end this post. The doubt is creeping in. I don't want to seem like I'm blaming anyone/anything (although, I also feel the need to pinpoint the "problem" to help me make sense of it all). I don't want to point a finger. I need to be more courageous. Not be so scared to offend. I think for me, it's because I still feel like I'm processing it all that I don't know what kind of stand/message/voice I have.
So yeah. I guess that's that.

Airport security

I've traveled enough that going through security is pretty routine. I can be pretty efficient. While there are some things that are consistent no matter where you are, sometimes there are little differences between airports (e.g., taking off shoes, not having to put larger bags in bins). CDG caught me off guard. I didn't have to drink the water out of my 330mL water bottle nor did I need to take my laptop out of my bag. I actually had to ask to confirm that I heard correctly.
So it's not about technology. I can't wait until more airports have this.