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1st Monday in May
It’s that time of year again… April’s showers bear resemblance to God watering his plants to bloom for Spring. The faint hint of Summer in the air. It also brings us THE most important fashion day of the year, the first Monday in May, the Met Gala. This year literally on May 1st. From the time when I was just a little girl, fashion was the “be all and end all” and still is to this day. It wasn’t just about the clothes! Trust me when I say I am a fashion ADDICT, that is an understatement. Just ask my parents! Clothing to me are fabrics fashioned in heaven in…
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50 Days of (Toronto) Summer
If you know, you know. And if you don’t—well, this post is named after one of my favorite movies, 500 Days of Summer. It’s about Tom, a hopeless romantic and greeting card writer played by Joseph Gordon-Levitt, who gets absolutely blindsided when his girlfriend, Summer, ends things out of nowhere. He spends the next 500 days obsessing over every moment they shared, trying to pinpoint the exact second their love started unraveling. In the process, though, he stumbles upon something unexpected—himself. He rediscovers who he is outside of the heartbreak. And, in taking on Tom’s theme—and the very quick redirection my life is taking—I, too, have been doing some reflecting.…
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Retrospect
I’ve never been the type of person who believes our lives are already mapped out for us, as if the stars decided every step we’d take before we even learned how to walk. That every heartbreak, every detour, every moment that knocked us sideways was part of some grand, prewritten plan. But I do believe in something close. I believe that everything happens for a reason. That every decision we’ve ever made, every twist in the road, has shaped us into the people we are today. And maybe that’s not as poetic as the idea of fate, but it’s real. Because when I look back on my life, I can…
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Light at the end of the tunnel
October. It’s always been a special month to me. It’s my birthday month, after all. But more than that—it’s Domestic Violence Awareness Month. A few years ago, I wrote about my own experience with domestic violence. I had been through it. Survived it. And I wanted to share my story. To bring awareness. To let someone out there—anyone—know they weren’t alone. And do you know what happened? I got backlash. People from my past reached out, concerned—not about what I had gone through, not about what had happened to me—but about how it made them look. Imagine that. People worried about their reputations over the reality of what I lived…
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Crossroads…
Just a little Wednesday food for thought… I’ve been thinking a lot about crossroads lately. About how many of them we meet in our lives. About how they shape us, whether we want them to or not. The definition of crossroads is: “a point at which a crucial decision must be made that will have far-reaching consequences.” Far-reaching consequences. It sounds intense, doesn’t it? And yet, it’s exactly what it is. Gone are the days of my parents’ generation, where life followed a neatly wrapped sequence of events.Meet your life partner. Get married. Buy a house. Have kids. Work a steady job. Retire. Live in peace until you’re old and…
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Bosom Buddy
National Best Friends Day. A day dedicated to the people who keep us sane. Who make life brighter. Who hold up mirrors and remind us of who we are when we forget. Chandler and Joey. Nick and Schmidt. Timon and Pumbaa. Dionne and Cher. Zac and Screech. Thelma and Louise. Oprah and Gayle. Ben and Matt. Snoop and Martha. We all have a Robin to our Batman. I’ve always believed that best friends are self-made family. As an only child, my friendships weren’t just friendships—they were lifelines. The brothers and sisters I got to choose. The ones who stood beside me through every chaotic, beautiful, messy chapter of my life.…
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What day is it??
A Love Letter to Life in Lockdown. As most of you know—whether you live in Canada or not—here in Ontario, we are still in lockdown. Yes. Yes, I know. The world is opening up all around us while we sit here, still waiting, still counting the days. I won’t even begin my long, theatrical rant about that because, trust me, we would be here for hours. What I will say is this: I have been confined within the walls of my apartment for more than 170 days now. 170! That is nearly half a year spent in the same space, watching the same walls, pacing the same floors, staring longingly…
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Hopeful
Hello, world! I cannot believe it has been over a year since I last posted a blog. Actually, it’s probably been that long since I’ve written anything at all, which is a little unsettling because writing has always been my way of processing emotions, of making sense of the world when it feels like chaos. And if there was ever a year brimming with emotions, it was 2020. What even was that? A year that lasted both 12 months and 157 years simultaneously. A paradox in time. A masterclass in vulnerability, grief, and resilience. A year that left me, someone who is rarely at a loss for words, utterly speechless.…
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All in this together
Boy, has it been a while since I last wrote… Okay, my journal doesn’t count. That’s my personal chaos, my messy, unfiltered thoughts spilling onto pages no one will ever see. But here? Here, it’s been a minute. And, wow, has life happened in the meantime. Summer. Can we have it back now, please? I know, I know—I’m Canadian. I should be used to winter by now, and honestly, we’ve had it easy this year. But with February creeping up, I can’t help but plead: Winter, please, stay kind. This summer, I actually fell in love with the city again. Maybe because I hadn’t spent a summer here in a…
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Ode to the loves of my life!
I’ve been a writer since I was a little girl. I write to process, to escape, to remember. I write when I can’t find the words to say out loud. When my emotions feel too big, too tangled, too heavy to carry inside my chest. I write about moments I don’t want to forget—the good ones, the bad ones, the ones that shaped me. And I write to relive—to travel back to the summers I never wanted to end, to the nights that felt like magic, to the heartbreaks that, at the time, I thought I’d never recover from. But today, I’m writing about something different. Gratitude. It hit me…