Not Made For The BIg City

Yeah, it's pretty, whatever. I hate humans.

I’m back in downtown Toronto for a month while I complete my placement – the final step before my program is done and I never ever ever have to go back to school.

(Fast forward 10 years when I decide, for fun, to do a Master’s in English Lit. To my future husband cat, please, at that moment in time, talk me out of it).

Ahem, so anyway, I’m in the same building that I was, right in the swanky part of Toronto. Things I have noticed in my week of being here:

-          All of the men are gay. Or at least dress like they are. It makes me uncomfortable that they can…fit…everything in those very tight pants. It makes me wonder if they have anything to fit…ya know? Many of my girlfriends talk about how sexy the downtown men look in their fitted suits as though they’re in powerful, executive positions. Meanwhile, I’m looking past them at the construction workers like, “Oh hey there, you ruggedly sexy man, you…” (Except I don’t say that to them…anymore).

-         Everyone is very small. I don’t mean like in weight, although that’s true. I mean in stature. The tiny, albeit lovely, girl next to me was sitting at my desk next to my extra large Tim’s cup and I couldn’t help but notice that she was about the same size as it. Like a giant’s cup next to a normal sized person. Naturally, I’m the giant. I was wearing heels the other day that, halfway through it, I had to remove them because I was acutely aware of how much fucking taller I am than everyone. The woman I work with is at the height of my boobs. Which…is probably pretty awkward for her.

-          A woman in the office looks and sounds like the Asian chick from Pitch Perfect. YouTube that shit. And then wonder how I don’t laugh every time she speaks (ie. I do).

-         I am acutely aware of myself when I’m in this city. Of how much I’m not used to the city life, and how much I feel like I don’t belong here. It’s very strange. But I’ve never been AS self-conscious (well, that’s a lie, but at least in the last few years) as I am when walking through these streets. Maybe it’s all the people. Maybe it’s their fashion sense and general aura. But when I’m here, I’m counting down the hours until I’m back in my small town. Even more, I find myself wishing I was going home to a farmhouse on a bunch of acres away from people and where it’s quiet. And that, ladies and gentlemen, is the definition of anti-social. Nice to meet you (although probably not that nice).

-         Any desire for fashionable clothes and big diamonds is gone when I’m here. Yes, even big diamonds! What is happening?! It’s like I’m so against becoming a Torontonian that I go the complete opposite direction and try to make myself as simple as possible (and I’m a relatively simple person). The other day I called myself a farm girl. And then I laughed to myself. I’m not a farm girl. I have worked on a farm, but I don’t live on one. Who am I?!

-          I have a crisis of identity when among large swarms of people. Does this mean I’m agoraphobic? I hope not. I’m going to book a therapy session just in case, though…

 So those are my thoughts after my first week at placement. I’m clearly learning LOTS!

Love,

M