OMFG - Location, Location, Location

They say songs and smells (surprisingly) are the best triggers for memories from the past, but I always find that locations invoke the strongest nostalgia for me. What is it about roaming the same streets that my friends and I once drunkenly caused mischief upon or being at the same playground my siblings and I grew up on that causes me to feel almost a physical gut feeling of deja vu?

Where this is especially vivid is when it comes to past relationships. As if technology hasn't made it hard enough to forget some connections I would rather not think of often.(Facebook is a graveyard for old relationships. I had some chick comment on a picture of my ex and I from over a year ago and it showed up on my newsfeed -- not to mention the newsfeeds of my over 1000 friends. I spent the night warding off questions of whether we were back together. Thanks, chick.) Perhaps I'm just over-sensitive (which, admittedly is not an unusual when it comes to matters of the heart) but there are some places I choose to avoid on purpose.

One would think any place where a pointed falling-out between old lovers occurred would be the most obvious but it's actually quite the opposite for me. Places where we fought --whatever --I really could care less. One more reminder of why not being with them now makes that much more sense. It's places where the happiest memories took place that pull on the heart strings. Central Park where we paddled on a boat amongst the ducks, that sushi place where we always ordered for each other and any other place where similarly maudlin, borderline nauseating, actions happened are emotional landmines.

Lucky for me, my last relationship was quite the globe-trotting one and unless I plan on going to London, Paris, and New York consecutively any time soon, I'm safe. Toronto has been my hometown and thankfully any sappy memories I had in various locales there have been erased or replaced by, well, new and better ones. No one takes my city away from me, after all.

I'm in Montreal for the weekend and some places are less pleasant than others. Sensitivity? Perhaps, but feelings are feelings. At the end of the day it comes to a decision: either mourn the loss of something that no longer exists or let them remain happy memories and nothing more. The latter is the sensible choice and one that I've been able to do only recently. For me, I know my life goes happy, happier, happiest -- sure what I had once was nice, but the best is yet to come. Everything for a reason -- a belief that's never steered me wrong thus far. Take that, Central Park.

OMFG - Eat What You Love...A Haut Appetit Connection

As Toronto Fashion Week takes over the city, models once again are in the spotlight, ready to be scrutinized by the media, fashionistas and the general public. Whoever said modeling was an easy job has never done it -- only those with thick skin should apply. Thick skin, however, is the only part of a model that is allowed to be thick as rail-thin is still the ideal body-type. I don't care how many fashion organizations vow to use models with body types of a certain BMI, or cast "curvier" models every once in a while: fashion has always featured extremely thin women. Everything else is simply for good publicity or sympathetic smiles from the fashion elite. We're all dying to be thin, thin and thinner.

Well, not all of us! I've been lucky enough to be naturally quite thin (while still being able to eat as much as I please for the most part) and find that the girls I become close friends with in the industry share my view on food: eat what you love, just don't stuff your face. I've never been one for extreme dieting, unhealthy means of staying skinny (read: laxatives and other unpleasant forceful removal..), juice cleanses or anything else along those lines. It's all too impractical for me. Life is for living, and that, in my opinion, includes ordering dessert when out for dinner with your boyfriend, making grilled cheese when you feel like vegging out and doing nothing at home, or sampling all the various gourmet hor dourves when at a party. Anyone who has the willpower to censor themselves every minute of the day with food is probably not the happiest...after all, a starving model is never a happy model. Give me the happy glow of a well-fed woman over the grayish tinge of an emaciated waif any day.

My closest friend from modeling, Elizabeth Minett, (or Minny as I call her) shares a similar philosophy when it comes to chowing down: mainly that we both turn into miserable cows when hungry, and become gentle purring kittens when with a bellyful of delights. Minny and I first bonded a couple years back when we met during a fashion show we were both in....a week later and we were sharing gossip over late-night greasy Chinese food after a night of clubbing. Chow mein? Yes please! Chicken balls? Why not! Fried rice? Of course! It was love at first bite for Minny and I and we've had many a food adventure in whatever city we happen to be in together since then. (Cupcakes in New York, pub fare in London and sushi in Miami, just to name a few!) To know there are other models out there with beautiful figures who enjoy food as much as I do was, and is, refreshing. Minny lands more than her share of jobs making it clear that girls who eat are not just happy, but damn sexy as well!

Minny + cupcake = <3

Minny is a baking enthusiast and has parlayed her passion for all things ooey, gooey and delicious into a blog of her own which follows the world of haute healthy eating from the perspective of a stunning model. We recently took a cupcake tour of Manhattan stopping at several well-known cupcake shops and sampling treats at each one to take tasty notes for her to blog about post-meal....a pumpkin cupcake at Sugar Sweet Sunshine, a vanilla bean cupcake and banana cream pie at Magnolia, a sugar-free cupcake from The Little Cupcake Shoppe...suffice to say it was heavenly!

While sitting around and indulging in cupcakes everyday is not the healthiest of lifestyles, it was a lovely way to spend a day. Don't get me wrong; neither of us chows down on burgers and fries daily, but we do eat when we're hungry and enjoy desserts just as much as we enjoy healthy foods. I feel sexier, happier, and most content when my body is at its natural weight as opposed to being a frail five or ten pounds lighter which would fit industry norms. I don't allow modeling to dictate what I eat, and more importantly how I live my life, and would much rather share a tapas dinner with friends than sit alone at home counting how many grapes I'm allowed that day. Minny and I have gossiped over late night Chinese, chatted over spicy salmon rolls, discussed life crisis's over slices of cheesecake and had girl talk over salads. Food is friendship for us and is part of the equation without a second thought; which is exactly how it is in both our lives. Fashion week, Schmashion week! Girls, once again I re-iterate: eat what you love, but don't stuff your face (unless it's on really good cupcakes..) and you'll be lovely as ever on the inside and out.

For a Minny & Sheilakins approved recipe, Flourless Chocolate Walnut Cookies (Big. Fat. MMMMM), go to Minny's Haut Appetit Blog here!

Haut Appetit's Flourless Chocolate Walnut Cookies!

The Sport of Celeb F*cking

I don't really follow sports. I find baseball boring (although going to games is an excuse to drink beer during the daytime without judgement), hockey mildly interesting (mostly for the fights that break out and and again, non-judgmental early drinking), and basketball marginally the most interesting, if only to go to games and spot the hardcore bling of all the baller wives who attend games from across the court. Many of my model counterparts, however, pay for more attention to sports than I ever could. For them it's not activities that take place on the field or in an arena, and don't involve any balls....actually wait. Maybe not. I'm alluding to the subtle, yet entirely present sport of celebrity hook-ups! That's right...the game of schmoozing and whatever happens after schmoozing with celebrities simply because, well, they're celebrities.

My darling hometown of Toronto is an interesting little habitat to observe celebrity behavior. Not blase and jaded like New York where Manhattanites can walk past Sarah Jessica Parker and the twins on the way to Magnolia without blinking an eye, (and where non-New Yorkers pretend to be just as uncaring if only to fit in), or downright shameless in fame adoration and the road to get there like in L.A, Toronto falls somewhere in the middle where everyone freaks out and wants to be seen with celebrities, but only if they're seen in a way where they don't appear to care. As if you just so happen to be hanging out with George Clooney because you two obviously run in the same circles -- and not because you heard he was going to be at some film fest party and pulled every string you had to inch your way to the edge of his table and take a picture where you're just barely in the same frame. Potato, potato. It's not just our secret gawking that makes Toronto unique, but also how comfortable it is for celebs here. Maybe it's that the T-dot is relatively low-key, or that they think we Canadians are just generally nicer and won't snitch on scandalous behavior, but whatever it is, celebrities certainly figure they can get away with more when shielded by the Great White North.

Our sheltered home and native land makes it so that celebs are more accessible than they would be in other cities...if you know a few club owners, are a model or a scenester in any way, chances are that you have a few star stories to share. And so, with celebrities frequently in town to shoot movies, do press tours or promote clothing lines, it has become something of a competition for many local girls to see just how many they can snag. I've seen this game in action; a young, sort-of attractive male star in his heyday will come to town, get wined and dined by high-end restaurateurs and venue owners, and taken to the hotspot of the night. And then the picking begins...usually his handlers will scope out the models or other attractive ladies who are there and bring them over to the star until he finds one he likes. Sleazy? Definitely. But somewhat understandable given the situation. I mean, why fish for something that you can get hand-delivered to you? With that in mind, it completely boggles my mind how many girls I see swoon, giggle, then eventually leave, with all these douches. They don't even have to be attractive! Just as long as they're famous. It's tit for tat: the star gets to add one more notch to his post of international banging and the chick gets to smugly know (or let her friends know is more like it) that she totally put the moves on Chace/Adrien/Gerard or whatnot.

If you're a spectator of this sport like I am, it's all very amusing and entertaining. I've been pulled from the sidelines every once in a while but am really not one for athletics...or being hit on by egotistical dudes who get their handlers to make introductions. Otherwise it's a fun game to follow....celebrities, models, scandal, and parties? Totally trumps sweaty dudes throwing a ball around if you ask me. For those participating, please continue to do so at events and clubs where we spectators can all continue to catch games -- especially during the playoffs, otherwise known as TIFF! Have fun, keep score, and for the love of fame don't forget to use protection -- we all know nothing's worse than having to sit a season out because of an "injury". All together now, Team Canada!
x

OMFG - Everything for a reason...even you Irene!

Nothing quite shows who truly cares about you like a natural disaster. An over-hyped natural disaster at that, but  a scary event to go through by yourself in New York City nonetheless. Especially in an apartment with no television and no internet. Like a typical girl, Hurricane Irene was late to arrive and made us all wait  (the little bitch), but thankfully her impact wasn't too bad. Mostly flooding of the lower-lying areas of Manhattan and power outages, plus a few trees and garbage cans as causalities. I'm grateful and my thoughts go out to those the South who received the harsher end of her wrath.

Despite it being a slightly over-glorified rainstorm, the city rightfully took precautions in what could of been a devastating event. I spent an hour waiting in line at the grocery store stocking up on food and water (turns out I'm balls at shopping for food for myself...M&M's, lox and figs didn't exactly go well together..), bought a flash light and made sure I was not in an evacuation zone. Actually, all information about the storm was parlayed to me via my darling sister, dad and friends. Thank goodness for their thoughtfulness or I would of been totally out of the loop, save for runs to a nearby Starbucks to use the Internet there.

I definitely believe everything happens for a reason and the support I got from the friends close to me made me realize who was important in my life. It also made me realize who definitely wasn't. People who brushed Irene off as "nothing much" and "oh you'll be fine" were right in facts but sorely lacking in empathy and care. I mean, sure, it's going to be all right we think, but to me, if they really cared, they'd be worried about a loved one there anyways. Or at least provide a little comfort.

This post isn't much more than to point out just that: everything, and I mean everything, happens for a reason.  I trust in destiny always and I was definitely supposed to be here during this to fine-tune several things in my life. It's back to lovely Toronto on Tuesday and I can't wait for a fresh start, fresh perspective and most of all change! Bring it on.
x

OMFG -- Model dinners.

I'm watching the Czech model across the table from me pick at her tuna tartar. There are three tiny pieces of  crostini at the side of her plate, which she removed immediately from the dish the second it arrived at the table. She also spent a good ten minutes precisely cutting up and slowly eating the decorative cucumber slices that framed the tartar. It doesn't take a expert to see that this chick has serious eating issues. Perhaps even anorexia from the looks of her bobble-head and stick-thin gaunt yellow arms.

I was at a model dinner at a beautiful tucked-away Italian restaurant in the Upper East Side. I've been at my share of model dinners and seen my share of stick figures pick at an assortment of five-star cuisine, but it never fails to make me feel sad. These poor girls...I mean this is some of the most beautiful food there is and what do they do? Pick at tartar. As a foodie, it pains my fat little heart. Pass me the pasta.

I know what you must think: I'm one of those skinny girls who thinks she eats a lot, but really, doesn't eat that much...it's just a lot compared to models. Well, let me assure you kids, it's a lot compared to models, normal people, that fat dude scarfing down his Big Mac over there and more. Ask my best friend Sarah, my sister, even my model friends and I'm 100% positive they can all vouch for my monstrous appetite. (Mind you this is all done as daintily as possible. I'm a classy bitch.) Yes, I have a warp-speed metabolism, but I'm not impervious to weight gain...everything in moderation is the key. Eat what you love, just don't stuff your face. Except if you're at a really amazing five star Italian restaurant on the Upper East Side. Come on, Czech. Like, really?

Blah, blah, blah, I know how tough the industry is and how much pressure we models are under to look like sticks. I've had days where I've felt like a ginormous cow, or times when I go into castings and feel like the biggest girl there. But I'm not sixteen and doing this (thank god). I'm twenty-four, know my body pretty well and am happy with it. I also have the common sense to know that unless I remove some ribs and my hipbones, and retard my growth to pre-puberty, there's no way I can compete with the eating disorder/fifteen year old/boyishly-built sticks out there. It's just not possible. Knowing that, I can enjoy my food and know that whatever work I get isn't going to vary much based on whether I eat this bagel and lox or not. So the answer, is always yes.

Living life without enjoying food just doesn't seem much like living at all. I've tried my share of diets and means to stay skinny and none of them have been remotely fun. Being starving all the time makes for one bitchy Sheilakins, and that's putting it lightly. Throwing up, laxatives, and all other extremes just sound, well disgusting. And for all the times I've tried to starve it off, not much happens. I basically lose 5 pounds give or take and my quality of life is severely worse....so food, friends, and good times it is! Happy and 5 pounds heavier is so much more lovely than miserable and 5 pounds thinner.

I've discussed model pressures and food in blogs before, but it has surfaced in my mind again since being here because it's so much more extreme in New York. All my model girls in Toronto have hearty appetites for the most part, bless their foodie souls! After a handful of model dinners here, it's apparent that sitting around tables sipping wine and staring longingly at food while barely talking is the norm. That's cool. Just means more food for me.

Eat happily, drink heartily & just be content lovelies!
x

OMFG - Cuppycake Heaven.

There's something to be said about the perfect cupcake. A little piece of heaven made of perfectly dense yet fluffy batter, airy frosting and melty goodness that spreads a sugary warmth when eaten. If it wasn't detrimental to my health and more importantly to my figure, I'm positive my diet would consist entirely of cupcakes.

Something of a phenomenon over the past decade, cupcakes have taken the gastro world by storm and remain the toast of the baking world. From wacky foodie flavors (bacon cupcakes!) to haute couture designs (Louis Vuitton cupcakes!) and everything in between, it seems the appeal of a little loaf of cake is never ending. Later this week my dear friend Elizabeth and I are doing what two fat kids trapped inside models bodies should do: taking a cupcake tour of New York City. So far our stops are set to include the legendary (well to Sex and the City fans anyways) Magnolia Bakery, Crumbs, Sugar Sweet Sunshine, and the darling sounding Babycakes. My poor thighs won't know what hit them.

What is it that attracts the masses to these bundles of baked goodness? There are even cupcake trucks dotted around the city (Toronto, take note!) and any decent deli has a few frosted selections. Surely there's a reason the masses have jumped on board the cupcake wagon. Aside from being scrumptious, cupcakes (or as my sister and I call them cuppycakes...a name we used when we were little that stuck) are small enough that eating one doesn't cause mounds of fat guilt...although speaking from experience, eating 5 does. (Side note: earlier this year I took the bus back from New York to Toronto with a parting gift from a friend: a dozen cupcakes from Sugar Sweet Sunshine. Needless to say only 6 survived the ten hour journey. And by 6, I mean 4...it was a long time guys! Don't judge.) For girls, and certain guys I'm sure, cupcakes are an ideal little package. Chic, and easy to dress up in gorgeous little outfits, cupcakes are definitely the most fashionable of anything you'll find in a bakery...delectable and designer? Irresistible.

As a girl, I can say from experience that nothing elicits squeals of excitement quite like a box of pretty cupcakes frosted and decorated to lip-smacking loveliness. There's something comforting about stylish sweets, uncomplicated and complete in their deliciousness and appearance. You know they look good, you know they're sweet on the inside and you know they're going to satisfy you -- which is more than I can say about most men! The choice between sex and chocolate is a question that always seems to pop up when my friends and I are having post-club drunken conversations and the verdict is usually split in half. It seems that there's no easy answer to what's more satisfying for a woman: desserts or sex. (For the record, I choose the former...there are some things chocolate will never do for a girl.) Perhaps if the question had been cupcakes, and not chocolate, over sex, the verdict would be unanimous. I've seen girls who don't eat carbs, girls who have sworn off gluten and girls who pick and prod at single pieces of sashimi dive into cupcakes with the enthusiasm of a fat kid....sex in a box, is basically what cupcakes are to women.

My homage to cupcakes is nothing more than the foodie in me expressing a love for these darling treats. I have not been able to pass a cupcake truck yet here in Manhattan without sampling at least one of the flavors on display! (They have mini sizes, and one bite sizes...genius.) Versatile, trendy, chic and most of all mouth-watering delicious, cupcakes are a single girl's best food friend and a non-single girl's comfort in frustration. Or, if you're just a foodie like yours truly, they're simply the icing on the cake...literally! Bon appetit! x

OMFG -- A little Perspective

When I was 18, I got my first tattoo of a small pair of wings. It was not some deluded tribute to thinking of myself as an angel, or anything to do with fairies, but a simple reminder to always have perspective in life. The wings were my freedom, the ability to fly away and gain perspective when it came to any situation, and see it with fresh eyes. Throughout the years I've amassed a couple other tattoos which are more like love scrawls that create a delicate narrative along my body, and realized that I needed perspective more than ever...instead of being consumed by situations since I am so driven by emotions, especially when I think love is involved.

I've been in New York the past couple days, and I can't think of a better place to regain my perspective. Being alone in the most influential metropolis in the world puts you in your place in every way, and also allows one to find an identity in its vast anonymity. It's not that I was a wanderer up until now (love, and always will love Toronto.) but anyone who has been to NYC knows the impact it can have. Spending solo time with nothing but the city and your thoughts is bound to lead to some realizations, even to the most spacey of space cadets, let alone an over-analytic, hyper-thinker like myself.

Add rainy weather, gray skies and slightly more desolate than normal streets and you've got yourself the perfect scene for the emo kind of day I've been having. Pathetic fallacy, my late English teacher from high school taught us it was called when inanimate objects (like the weather) reflected a character's mood. Although I can't blame my thoughts on the dowdy Manhattan weather -- it was beautiful and sunny yesterday and still my brain was thinking faster than it normally does...close to combustion I think it borderlines on at times. Just what is all my perspective being gained in, you ask? Why the answer is obvious for anyone who remotely knows me. Love. Love, love, love. I don't think anyone who's not a Romantic era poet thinks about love as much as I do.

It's a lovely sentiment to live by, but also a huge weakness and my ideas on how it should be in my life (cough, perfectly, cough) usually end in disaster. How does one cope with the little girl who lives in a fairy tale? I have no idea, and neither does any man I've dated. Realistic and rational and unshakably chill I can be, but for some one who is thoughtful and caring and places so much of her happiness on living life that way, it's hard to find that expectation reciprocated in one's romantic life.

And so, with all my trials and tribulations when it comes to being a lovey dovey romantic, I've slipped on my pair of wings here in the Upper East side where I'm staying and attempted to see everything I've been through with fresh eyes. As long as I move forward with some sort of progress, I'll be satisfied. After all we are nothing if not for progress.
x

OMFG - NYC Lovin'

Guys and dolls, I've been bitten by the Big Apple fever that every twenty-something experiences at least once in a lifetime. I don't know any other way to put it: I'm totally geeking out over New York City! Up until recently, I had only been as a child. All my memories of the big city were romanticized childhood ones, like adoring the glamorous Rockettes on stage at Radio City Music Hall or tilting my head way up high to take in the beautifully lit Christmas Tree at Rockefeller Center surrounded by snow and my family. However now, as an adult, I've been twice in the back past month (I'm blogging from my friend's Upper East side apartment right now!) and all I have to say is this: New York City is freaking amazing.

The bright lights and big city are so much better when you're at an age to be a part of everything. The constant buzzing of things happening in the air feeds directly into my energy source and I feel like being out and about all the time. I'm a Toronto girl born and raised and so cities aren't a new thing for me; however after 24 years in a mid-sized place like Toronto, I feel like a whole new, bigger city where everything is unknown is just what I need to pump a little life into the rut of routine I've been in lately. I can see myself living here without a second thought, whereas every other city that I could almost see myself living in had a but moment. (Singapore: amazing design and layout but too hot. London: love the culture but miserable rain. You get the idea.) When I was leaving the last time I was here, it was the first time I felt sad to go home.

What is it that reels so many of us into the Big Apple and makes us never want to leave? Aside from the obvious being that NYC is a top tier city in business and fashion, there's the undeniable cool factor that, while other cities try, they just can't seem to emulate. (And trust me, no other city tries harder to be cool than my darling Toronto....I love it and all, but until we stop attempting to copy NYC, Miami, Paris and what have you, we won't ever create a sustainable identity of our own.) On a totally nerdy note, I personally get a kick out of how much the city gets featured in television and film...and like every twenty-something girl it's landmarks from Sex and the City that I squeal over most. (H&H? That's where Carrie bought the bullshit bagels! Tasty Delite? That's where Charlotte gets her diet dessert with Harry after dinner! Eeeeeee!) There's also the constant activity that such a large city can handle on an everyday level. When it's after 2 a.m. in my hometown, my cuisine options are either poutine, dirty Chinese food or street meat. Down here? Well let's just say I was out well past four on Saturday and enjoyed a leisurely sit-down meal of champagne, lobster and oysters. I speak for every foodie out there when between mouthfuls of buttery lobster I murmured, "Oh baby,  I think I'm home!"

An admiration -- no make that adoration -- for the Big Apple is nothing we haven't heard a million times before. Plain and simple, this is the city where it happens. It being whatever we might be looking for in our lives. Whether it's a dream job, fame, love, artistic inspiring, or simply a foodie experience, Manhattan and its surrounding areas is where we find seemingly endless opportunities. (Or, seemingly endless trouble depending on what you're seeking...) In the very least, it's where we go in hopes of finding these opportunities and end up creating new experiences on the many paths there. You never know who you might bump into in a city of more than 7 million of the most ambitious and interesting people out there, and it's exciting to say the least. Sure, Toronto's got NYC beat since it's my hometown and where my family and most of my friends reside, but while I'm young, relatively care-free and mobile, I think I'll let my Big Apple fever run just a little bit longer. x

OMFG - Spring Fever!

The weather in Toronto has slowly been getting a little nicer and nicer....and with everyday that the thermometer creeps towards the positives, the entire city lets out a little sigh of relief that maybe Spring really is just around the corner! Unlike other cities where it's warm (or warmer) year round, Torontonians like myself are so used to the dull, dreary days of winter that we're all officially insane when Spring fever hits! It hits us. And it hits us hard. I think this may be the only city in the world where you can see people on the streets wearing flip flops and winter boots on the same day. We experienced a day where the warmth hit the double digits a little while ago and, despite being only ten degrees, it was probably the busiest clubbing night I've seen in a while and throngs of girls (your truly included) headed to the clubs in what I would normally wear in the summer. See? Officially insane when Spring fever hits.
The winters here being brutal as they are (this is The Great White North after all, cosmopolitan as we are) put even the cheeriest of Canadians into a bit of a bind and causes what I like to call "Toronto-hate Syndrome". Oh, we've all been affected by it at one time or another. You know the feeling...when you want to have a fabulous night out but the idea of putting on a slinky outfit and your most dangerous heels just seems -- well, dangerous, considering the icy streets and snowy mounds you'll have to navigate. The cramp on your night leads to a breathy sigh of "I hate Toronto!" and thus the syndrome begins. It's a snowball effect from then on in, where every weather-related disaster, no matter how small in scale, leads to a full-on case of hatred for our at-time geographically impaired city. The scene gets stale fast during the winter months partially because even the most persistent of clubbing troopers find it hard to make it out there when it's twenty five below and blustering winds ruin even the most coiffed hair-dos and also because everything just seems a little monotonous when given a bleak gray scene as a backdrop.
Well my darling Torontonians who are still in the city...Snap out of it! (For all of you who jetted out of here, I'm shooting you a slight evil eye. But only because I'm jealous. And because you suck.) I love our little city and the credit it deserves is usually taken away by 1) either New York envy (we really can't help that it's so close.) 2) the winter blues. Since NYC isn't going anywhere without the appearance of either King Kong or Godzilla, I think it's safe to say the winter blues are something we can easily all conquer. Luckily the worst of it is over and with March only a couple days away, Spring's green grasses and dewy air are truly just around the corner. Nothing spreads happiness faster than a little sunshine and I'm looking forward to the epidemic beginning as soon as the first rays hit the ground. As for the dry spell clubbing-wise; it's only one if we let it be one! I don't know about all of you, but I'm the type of person who will have a good night out as long as I'm surrounded by friends (and a couple bottles..come on now) so a night where we all mission it out, albeit in sexy little outfits under our puffy down-filled coats is definitely worth it. And, if you truly want to show everyone what we Canadians are made of, you'll find your way out in a sexy little outfit and that's about it. Blame it on Spring fever. But we're all about ready to be a little insane once it hits.
x

New York --OMFG.

I've always been one of those people who loves to sleep. Maybe it's because I'm the ultimate dreamer and getting lost in my dreams was something I looked forward to even as a child, but for whatever reason, sleeping soundly has never been a problem for me. Up until recently that is.
So lately I've been waking up in slight panics with my heart beating faster than normal. My heartbeat has always been a good indicator of changes or events that are going to unfold in my life; being some one who thinks with nothing but their heart, I guess this is fitting. Whenever my heartbeat starts to pick up, I know it's because there's something I need to resolve or because something, either good or bad, is about to happen. Seriously.
Anyways, as hokey as it all sounds, I know better than to go against my heart because well, it's been my guide in life so far and minus one devastating heartbreak (and let's face it, it happens to everyone once) it's never steered me wrong. I thought I was waking up out of sadness over not being with my ex anymore, panicking that I didn't have him in my life in the way I wanted anymore. But it turns out it had nothing to do with him at all, and everything to do with me.
My panicking, my internal tick tick ticking of my heart was, and is, my ultimate wake-up call! It's time for me to get the hell out of here.
'Here' for me is and has been for the last 23 years, Toronto. I was born and raised here and love this city to death but I feel like I've exhausted it. I've been clubbing since I was 15 (thank you fake New Brunswick ID!), wining and dining just as long, know everyone I feel I need to, and heck, I remember when Ossington was actually grimy, not all hipster grimy that way it is now. When you've been in a city long enough to see a neighborhood experience gentrification...well that's when you know it's time to go!
Travel has always been a passion of mine and my quest to conquer has gotten the best of me...I need out and I need it ASAP. I've known so many people with this intense drive to get out there and want more, more, more. I've never really felt that push until recently. Toronto doesn't feel big enough anymore, it doesn't feel like where opportunities are and where the magic is happening. It's lost its mystic appeal to me and is just a place I have to reside until I can make my way to where I belong: New York.
New York is where I need to be right now; it's energy, it's industry, it's worldwide title of being the place where IT happens -- IT being whatever, and whoever you are seeking in life. I'm going for my career, I'm going to meet people, I'm going for too many things to name specifically right now just because for the most part, I have no idea what I'm looking for. But one thing is certain: I'm going to find IT in New York.
The allure of big cities is undeniable to me. I studied Urban Geography in university for goodness sake because I just can't seem to get enough of cities! Where and why commercial, industrial, social, administrative, pretty much all activity and action occurs is what I wanted to get to the root of and where I need to be. The center of all the action! While Toronto was a nice mid-size city to start with, it's time for me to crack the top-tier cities of the world: the big three are New York, London and Tokyo. Screw vacations. Vacations imply that I have to go home after visiting. I want a life that includes living in one, two, or all three of these cosmopolitans. The reason for my panic attacks is as clear as the Van Cleef and Arpels rock that will inevitably grace my left hand in the future: I need to move out of Toronto and finally live in a place where I feel my outside matches my inside.
Seems like my days of being a laissez-faire sleeper will be over once I go to New York...who needs dreams in sleep when you're living them?
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