1:43 am Toronto Ontario

Prepare for a blog entry full of typos since I'm using a PC again in my grandparent's house.
alright. so i'm back in toronto after a week wandering around montreal.
very awesome city, i have to say. drinking age was amazing, of course. nightlife was pretty decent. old montreal was extremely cute as well. and of course, i brushed up on my french and brushed shoulders with many delectable french steeds.
but i'm still glad to be back in toronto. and definitely glad for where i live- new york city, that is. actually, when i think about it, no matter how much i complain about new york, it has to be, ultimately, the perfect city for me. because i can predict, with 100 percent certainty, that if i lived in montreal, despite being drunk off my face for the first couple of days, i would probably be bored out of my mind after a week. and i'd be pretty lenient giving it a week.
i'm very very grateful for the amount of things to see and do in nyc. so, yes, resolution: stop complaining about new york.
i'm happy that i can take this time off from the states though. canada really is a nice place. and it's one third my home, after all, together with china and new york.
i think being here has really taught me to live by myself; be independent, cook my own food, clean, deal with my own shit, and appreciate the more delicate things in life.
i didnt want to say "finer things" and sound like a douche.
i actually dont know any way to say this without sounding like a douche. but i'm starting to understand what's so beautiful about the little things. at a low angle, looking at the sun and the skyline. the pattern of the tablecloth. the texture of my dress. washing bokchoy leaves in cold water. no, i'm not on shrooms. i'm falling in love with these things.
photography is strange because sometimes it captures things in ways you didnt mean for them to be captured. something you think is beautiful just doesn't show up that way in a photo. and sometimes things you thought were pretty ugly, pretty lame, come out mad amazing. i have to say it's really refreshing to be forced to look at something differently, no matter whether it's decieiving or not. a photograph can never capture an experience though, really. it can't really capture an image, even, at least not in the way you saw it at that moment. but then, it can capture an attempt. it can recall memories. and i suppose that says something at least.
i have really wandered far into the realm of BS now. sorry guys.
sometimes i wish i had a talent. like writing songs or something. wishing i hadn't pursued art so hald-assed. i wish i could get on a stage and wow people away with something, something. but it's really sad. i don't have one. i used to think writing was a talent. but then that would be assuming that i am any good at writing. which is arguable at best.
i'm listening to ben kweller now and wondering what to cook for dinner tomorrow. dinner for one, i like it. i think learning how to embrace solitude is an important way of maturing. i said "maturing" because i didn't want to say "growing up" and sound like a douche. but "maturing" sounds pretty douchey too. i'm probably going to go round town and take some photographs tomorrow. i want to remember toronto like this. now i sound like a pretentious wannabe.
i wish i could stop judging myself actually. but it's hard. it's hard because i immediately judge everyone. including myself.
i feel like i should write something about love now. it's kind of imperative for a blog entry. but it's hard. i'm not in love. i'm not in love so i can't write about love. i can write about unfortunate encounters with the opposite sex, but that would be cheating. it would be cheating because i would be exploiting moments with no real meaning and pounding at them for the sake of getting some sentimental BS i can blog about out of them. when really i don't think about them much. my head is kind of clear of romance now, actually. sadly.
what's the point of blogging anyway? i just wrote a whole post about nothing. i can't write about the things that are really on my mind because then i would have to include specifics. by which I mean names. and that, of course, would be social suicide in many ways. also i can't write about embarassing things. because i dont want to embarass myself. but actually those are pretty much the only things that happen to me. so really there is nothing left to write about.

except about how god doesn't exist, but richard dawkins already wrote a book on that.
it's a pretty good book, too.
too bad it wont change anything.