Some of this memory lane stuff is pretty fun, actually. Some, not so much. While living in Kingston and Vancouver, for example, I sort of relaxed about talking to strangers and panhandlers and the like. Before, when I lived here, I’d just ignore them. No eye contact, like they didn’t exist. But in Vancouver especially, I got used to talking to them a little. At the very least, answering their request for change with actual words, which seemed a lot more polite than the whole ‘they’re invisible’ thing. And I’ve sort of kept it up since I’ve been back. Alas, I’m learning that here, it really is better not to. Not to engage, I mean. It seems to elicit all sorts of unpleasantness. Major bummer, because it seems really rude to pretend that someone who’s just spoken to you doesn’t exist. Ah well.
Speaking of rude… what is with all the dirty dirty cat calling in the city? Seriously. It’s so disturbing. This morning, while out for a twenty minute coffee walk, I was harassed by no less than FOUR different men. That’s one for every five minutes I spent out in public! Three things to note about this disgusting phenomenon:
1) I was fully clothed in jeans and an oversized men’s Maple Leafs hoodie.
2) I’m pretty sure the excessive nature of the heckling is directly related to me being, as I always say, not quite white. (The pigs who were heckling me sure weren’t white.)
3) Ignoring them doesn’t seem to help, AT ALL. In fact, it seems to make it worse. The more I ignore them, the more they seem determined to force some sort of response.
What IS this? And why does it happen here and not in Vancouver? And not in Kingston? And what is happening inside these men’s heads that makes them think this kind of thing is okay? I mean, It’s funny in a Seinfed bit, but not in real life. And it makes me really mad too. Because WHY? WHY do these jerks think it’s okay for them to harass me (us, anyone)? It’s NOT flattering. It’s just creepy. Not to mention really unfair. Walking up Bloor today, a city worker (or so his reflective orange vest and truck implied) hissed something at me that was so vile I can’t even put it in here. Not even as a joke.
So… ew. Toronto, in this regard, is not very nice at all.
But enough complaining. Other things about the city are fun. Honest Ed’s, for example, is hilarious. I love it. (Poor old Ed. He just died, you know.) I’m also enjoying the fact that there is a library in my neighbourhood (not to mention a million coffee shops, grocery stores, drug stores, and subway entrances). I walked down to the UofT English department recently, and the hike isn’t bad at all. AND I hear the department is moving up to Bloor St., so come September, it’ll be even closer. Harry Potter mania is in full swing at the moment, which I LOVE. And hangin’ with the baby is also fun, though exhausting.
That’s it for now. It is three days till my birthday. I don’t need any presents, but if you’re seriously keen to get me something, here is a short list of things I need/would like:
• A cordless telephone.
• A french press.
• Wine glasses.
• Knives. (For chopping, not throwing.)
• Big prepared canvasses. (For painting.)
• A CD player/digital radio.
But seriously, what I want most of all is to hang out with you. (If I know you, I mean. You rando voyers shouldn’t expect a hang out.)