It’s exactly a month since my whole world rotated into a completely parallel reality. Barrack is out and somewhere along the white sandy beaches unconcerned with his fan mail or Trump’s conga of controversies lined up in no chronological order behind him waking up the masses from a bad dream to an even worse reality. I’m back to that 5 – 5 dreadful routine that has since last year had to adjust accordingly to accommodate the 20 hours of Law School deemed to elevate my professional status in between compulsory gym sessions (because I took the Christmas festivities a bit too seriously) and work obligations that have me channeling Albert Einstein’s famous Croquembouche hair style just to get through the piles of files permanently glued to my desk. That, while desperately trying not to become an addict as I drown in 3 cups of coffee daily just to make sense of this word ‘adult’. Oh and if that isn’t bad enough, I finally unpacked my last suitcase over the weekend and today marks my 4 week anniversary since I had an ice cream…(it doesn’t count if it melted and I took it as a milkshake instead right?) Sigh :O

This nebulous notion that good things must come to an end is the reason I’m gallivanting through my yearly resolution “do not form attachments” with some sort of snicker expression to get me through the corridors without opening a portal for intrusive banter because if it was up to me all it takes is a twisted sense of humor and fluent sarcasm for me to hold a press conference in a bid to summarize my entire life before the poor lad realizes I’m actually not that shy. To think Matt Abrahams would be clear about the correlation between speech and ones thought process or in my case spontaneous blabber and over enthusiastic expression to every bone jabbing topic thrown my way. It can be awfully stressful…well not for the other guy but for me as I try to balance out the ideal time to ship up and let them chip in! Now that’s a risk I’m not willing to take.

Lucky for me there’s a certain wave of tranquility when shooting in the middle of nowhere that has my creative meter buzzing especially when my favourite humans are involved to mask the fact that it’s February the 14th. The ultimate pairing of wine and baguette over yum company and thrilling conversations gets me fueled. Perhaps the only time I can (without fear of being deemed a cliché) actually be me. The false notion that his highness St. Valentine advocates for we poor riffraff to make a complete mockery of the word love and red simultaneously to attach some significant meaning to the day is quite frivolous (pardon me if I don’t share the same enthusiasm as most). To be young and in love (or not) in such a media/status driven society has quite frankly drained the authenticity and potentially any creative element designed for your person along with it. It goes without saying that if it isn’t Grande and expensive at that – it doesn’t quite cut it for Instagram’s picture of the day…hell to be marked biggest “L” of the year isn’t part of the playbook and I’ll be damned if I do. I often like to wonder what it would be like to love in the 60s when Sam Cooke and Nina Simone spelled out intimacy in the most fluid way possible as if to surrender to its mystical charm. Would a simple picnic cut it? Would you be okay with just you and yours? Or would ‘more’ eventually be the song you sung? To see just how much our generation has pioneered is an honor but to feel just how much passion has diffused in the process is an absolute profanity and so I choose to separate myself from it or maybe PDA sessions just make me really uncomfortable 😀

Either way, Just think about it

I’d like to sit here and reevaluate the pros and cons of being an individual associated with Generation X but time is running out and the stack of assignments at the corner of my desk refuse to work themselves out. As I depart, I refuse to result to endless apologies and false promises to do better at producing content that have turned me into a pundit. It could be worse…could be…but for now old is the adjective I’d like to stick with. Perhaps my inept knowledge of the classic childhood game “stuck in the mud” is to blame but this year I’ll try *note* TRY…with the 5 -5 routine knocking at my door and the typical Friday night happy hour run I’d hate to overstate the scope of my abilities.

Oh and one more thing before I forget…Happy new year (because it’s not complete without the enthusiastic chant to highlight this moment in history – I’m back guys) let’s try not take life too seriously shall we? Well except for the fact that my best friend looks like a tall glass of Domaine de la romanee conti…that…well that is a matter of International security *woosh* If you leave your numbers down below, INTERPOL will be right with you with a detailed case analysis on how they plan to eliminate the problem! 😀

…and for what it’s worth, happy V-Day.

Love and love,

Xx.

Pictures by C_Tole.

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  • Stephanie

    yeeeeeeeeessss!!!!! let’s try not take life too seriously 🙂