Did you ever dream what you wanted to be, what you needed to be

What you would do for ME?

Did you ever give the envelope a shove, place yourself high above


Did he slap away your hand as you drowned in the sand

Bring poison to your place bearing an obscene face

Delicate flower to never forget the REASON they met

…the image is burnt.  Is it the day you just learnt

To despise and feel scorn? Curse the day you were born?

Thrust to claw and defend

A broken soul with no mend

I think about you

In the darkest of days, in my most heated rage

I think of you. 

I see you.

I think when I see you

Imma ki** you.

the better way.


8:20 am on a sluggish, overcast Tuesday, and you just want to make your miserable-ass way to your miserable-ass work day. Suddenly, the announcement… the train is being stopped due to an onboard assistance alarm being activated. The majority of the passengers grunt in disgust, rolls their eyes, etc. and the morning has already been soured for them.

I’d witnessed this happening at least once every other day. What becomes an interesting yet unwelcome scenario is when the passenger who needs assistance is you. Such was the case over three weeks ago on my way to work.

It was a regular day. I normally board at the southernmost car, leaning myself against the door nook at the (front?) (?) (back) (?) of the train. Bent over and engrossed in my Stephen King novel, I look up after a while and suddenly feel very hot and flustered. I loosen my scarf, the world begins to spin, and before I know it, I open my eyes to see several strangers peering down at me, asking if I’m okay, and helping me up off the floor. They make way and walk me to a seat, all while the passenger alarm is ringing, and the train suddenly halts. Davisville station. Four stops from home. A nice lady in a TTC uniform, the driver, comes up to me and asks what happened. I’m mopping the sweat off my forehead with my scarf. She tells me it’s okay to feel ill, and don’t be embarrassed, because it could happen to anybody. I’m shocked and disoriented, because it’s happened to ME. I actually fainted for the first time in my life (okay, the second time, if you count that time in grade 8 when it was cool to make someone push your throat up against the wall and make you faint – yes, it works).

A very kind lady offers to come outside and sit with me until the medics and police can assess the situation. A policeman comes very swiftly, takes my ID, and asks me a series of questions, all the while very pleasant and accommodating. Then came the paramedics, who pricked my finger for a blood sample and took my blood pressure, which turned out to be low. They suggested I go to a doctor, and told me an ambulance was waiting should I decide to take it. I declined, fearing it a) might be an extra cost I didn’t wish to handle and b) was just too much melodrama for a mere fainting incident. After taking more information, the paramedics let me back onto the train, where I headed back home immediately, emailed my boss of said incident, and headed straight to emergency with my family. Long story short, after five hours of testing and general waiting, I was declared fine and allowed to leave.

Why I am writing this story today is because I was so touched and overwhelmed to have been treated with such kindness – by fellow passengers, TTC staff, the police, and the medics. I’ll admit, I was one of those jerks who was the first to roll her eyes at any delay. Now, I’m grateful for the time that is taken to ensure the safety of every passenger onboard.

I was scared to “TTC it” for a few days after but, ever since, I ride all the way to Finch and back south just to make sure I get a seat. Doesn’t hurt to be cautious.

on moments.


2:30 am.  Can’t sleep.  Sensing I am awake and turning slightly, Dani gently places her angelic little hand over my eyelids and says, “Close your eyes,” wrapping her arms around my neck and pulling my head down on the pillow beside her.  I lay there for the entire two minutes it takes for her to fall back asleep and pull out my phone.

I had been reading his blog earlier that evening, and it was consuming my thoughts.  It brought back a flood of memories of a time when I was just getting to know him, of when my soul mate was once a total stranger.  I remember our first encounter.  Quiet and shy, with a bag of gummy candy atop his work station (I think mmm, candy… yay), I would’ve never expected to squeeze a conversation out of him, let alone become as close as we have.

He doesn’t open up so easily, nor quickly let anybody “in.”  It was just natural, the way we connected.  Many poets and artists with flourishing pens may have tackled the subject in centuries past, but actually experiencing it is a different occurrence.  It’s real.  It truly does happen.

I believe in faith and friendship, trust and kindness in a relationship.  When those are absent, what do you have, really?   A life without love.  And when one is in this sticky situation, is he or she expected to remain in it?  Do you not owe it to yourself to find that happiness, or at least keep trying?

I gaze upon this beautiful little being lying in bed, eyes closed, mouth partially open and think, wow, she is the product of us.  I am inspired and full of pride.  I did all right by her.

Weigh Back…


I often struggle with what once was. “I once had” this.  I “once did” that. But more niggling than ever, I “once wore” that size.

The year before I had my daughter, I was 29 years old and in the best shape of my life. Granted, I weighed the most I ever had, yet I was toned and super fit. I ran my first (5K) race ever in 25 minutes flat without even training.  I worked out 4-5 days every week and ate healthy food (no desserts). And I wore a crop top or sports bra to work out (in a coed gym- brave!).
**side story!
Once upon a time on a Dominican beach, I was sunbathing topless and my companion had gone out on the sand for a run, leaving me alone in my half-naked glory. I was partially snoozing when a shadow blocked my sun and two locals stood in front of me with a gigantic snake (a python? all I know is it was Britney-Slave-4-U huge) and a camera. They were insisting I get up and take a picture with the snake – yes, the souvenir photo that gets put up on a very public wall that you can order at the photo desk.
I looked around for my (then missing) companion, covered my chest with my hands and sternly said no, at LEAST three times… !!!
So back to the story at hand.  I went back to the gym 4 months after having my baby. Less than halfway through my first Pump class, I got extremely dizzy and nearly passed out. It must’ve shown since the instructor took a moment to come by and ask if I was okay – embarrassing!  I skipped a few tracks and managed to finish the class, but I was sore for the next two weeks.  I was scared to return and when I did, I was just miserable to see such a slow, jiggly shape staring back at me in the mirror. But being as stubborn and determined as I am, I went daily, working my way up to two classes each morning, 5 days a week. Before 3 months’ time, I was back at pre-pregnancy weight.
I managed to keep up my workout regime all summer, until I returned to my full- and part-time jobs. Then I just couldn’t find the time or motivation. I tried to go before work a few times, but that meant getting up at 5 am after finishing work close to midnight the night before. As you can imagine, that didn’t last.
I’m on March Break now and as I type this, I should be getting dressed for my workout (I had pledged to attend every day this week). We’ll see if that happens.  I’m extra tired (I guess staying up til 3 am watching Prison Break didn’t help).
That last paragraph was written on Tuesday morning, and it’s now almost 11:30 pm Thursday. I haven’t been to the gym all week.  As my hubby reassures me, the new-ish introduction of studying has taken precedence over my workouts, and that is nothing to feel terrible about (which of course I do).  It never used to matter if I was tired, ragging, irritated – I ALWAYS made it to the gym.  Now, I have to put it on the back burner and give myself some time to physically, and most importantly, mentally, rest.
I can’t wait too long because, as I’ve mentioned in a previous post, I’m running a 10K race in May.  In June, a Spartan obstacle race.  And just yesterday, a co-worker approached hubby and I to form a work team to attempt the CN Tower climb in April.  I’ve referred to myself as crazy before, and I suppose I am, because I’m intrigued by the idea and I’d like to participate.  If not for charity, the street meat vendor in front of the Rogers Centre that I used to frequent when my company was situated there.  He owned this amazing three-nipple-like mayonnaise squeeze bottle and even offered bacon bits and corn.  I digress.
Now I impose upon myself a new challenge which I call 3-4-5:  3 inches, 4 pounds, in 5 months.  The 3 inches I’d ideally lose around my spare-tire of a waist and 4 pounds self-explanatory, well in time for my trip to Europe in 5 months.
I generally find that in the summer, frequent outdoor runs, more sweating, and smile-inducing sunshine help to keep the weight off.  I’m disappointed in myself for slacking, but spring is around the corner and up open the many possibilities of outdoor activity.
Wish me luck.  Until the birds are chirping, however, I’m going to be eating Golden Oreo Cakesters, cashew-and-toffee-swirl ice cream, and other sugary, highly caloric yummies.  I’m only human.

The Eternally Elusive Clock


I don’t know what I was thinking.  I do love to write, and I have bunch of foolish/not-so foolish thoughts to share with the world, but did I really account for the time it would take out of my schedule?  Initially, I wanted to (re)start a blog to document my upcoming travels and experiences as a working court reporter (yes, yes, I was looking waaaaay ahead), but then I decided to start now.

Now, when I already have full-time schooling, a frisky and unrelenting toddler to mother, a part-time job, two crazy athletic events to train for, and sleep and more studying somewhere in between.  And now this blog.  WAIT – I forgot to mention the volunteer hours I hope to be logging at the zoo this summer and the continuous European vacation planning extravaganza that is to take place this August.  Perhaps I possess masochistic qualities, but  Hear me squeal and whine about it now but I fully intend to have every single item crossed off my to-do list!

My sincerest apologies for not writing sooner.  It’s review week and I’ve been catching up on some of the exercises I’ve been sort of neglecting.  I’m caught up now, so here I am!  Though I don’t attend class every day (we operate on a self-guided schedule, and I must attend class at least 50% of the time), that doesn’t mean I’m not working.  I have to account for at least 10 hours of online writing practice per week, plus daily dictation exercises and reports, and a very tricky grammar course that stumps even ME at times (if you don’t know me personally, I’m a spelling and grammar PSYCHO, so please proof-read your emails and comments before you send me any =P).

I once had a blog on which I posted almost daily, and in the mere 4 (?) months of its existence it accumulated over 1,500 visits.  I’d say that ain’t too shabby 😉

Please help me get there again this time – heck, let’s exceed that goal!

Thank you for your visit today, and hopefully tomorrow and several times after that!

One day I plan to do a post on cupcake reviews.  I like to call them fat cakes actually, because since I returned from maternity leave, stopped working out and started ingesting these little cups of satan, I gained 7 pounds 😦  For that reason, I am going to be running a 10K race in May and some scary-looking what-the-fk-was-I-thinking Spartan obstacle race in June, after which I expect to melt off the aforementioned poundage.  Then go on vacation.  YAY!

I digress.  Stay tuned, upcoming post is already in the works 🙂

alpha basis birth blastoff


I once dreamt I found myself in a house and in one of the rooms was a dark shadow that terrified me so I tread lightly and eventually passed by it. I went up the stairs and in one of the rooms there was a psychic and her male associate and she was holding a handheld device with an LED display lit up with blue letters.  When she saw me there, she pressed a button and the words Preferred Fate appeared on the screen. With her head, she motioned towards the staircase and the dark room below it, and I understood what she was wordlessly telling me: my preferred fate or that room; the choice was mine.

This is how my blog came to be.