The Chronicles of Sarnia: part 1
It's funny how people not from Toronto say everyone from Toronto thinks Toronto is the centre of the universe. Yet, everyone thinks their own town/city/acre of farmland, no matter where they are, is the centre of the universe.
I've recently taken on my fourth world-in-its-own-rite in one year. Yet driving along the 402 to Sarnia seemed strangely familiar. The little farms dotting the highway led to a small city, with a dank downtown and a booming boxstore upper end. A river that smelled a little strange not far from a sandy beach lining big blue waters.
And yet, despite its familiarity, my transition into this city has not been seamless. I had planned to stay in a big house with student firefighters minutes from the beach... but some things are too good to be true, and in the last minute I ended up taking a by-the-week room in what later turned out to resemble a crackhouse. I surprised myself by staying the night, but waking up to see the room in the light - the yellowed condom package on the headboard and the communal bathroom that had splatters of blood, other fluids and dirt - and I packed up and checked into a hotel. Then there was the flat tire, which in itself was not a big deal but seemed like it at the time. Later I found a cozy and thankfully clean room in a big house a little east of downtown with a lovely older couple who keep trying to feed me cookies. Although I hope to find my own place soon, this will do just fine for now.
I've also started a new job. I won't talk about that much, but only say that I don't quite know what I'm doing or will be doing. I've come to this job at a time of great change, so everyone tells me, though I don't yet know the backstories. I like the people and so far I like the job very much. Although I'm still quiet and socially awkward - as I usually am for weeks to months when meeting new people - I feel oddly comfortable here. Yet, my dear friends in Toronto, expect a house guest often.
I've recently taken on my fourth world-in-its-own-rite in one year. Yet driving along the 402 to Sarnia seemed strangely familiar. The little farms dotting the highway led to a small city, with a dank downtown and a booming boxstore upper end. A river that smelled a little strange not far from a sandy beach lining big blue waters.
And yet, despite its familiarity, my transition into this city has not been seamless. I had planned to stay in a big house with student firefighters minutes from the beach... but some things are too good to be true, and in the last minute I ended up taking a by-the-week room in what later turned out to resemble a crackhouse. I surprised myself by staying the night, but waking up to see the room in the light - the yellowed condom package on the headboard and the communal bathroom that had splatters of blood, other fluids and dirt - and I packed up and checked into a hotel. Then there was the flat tire, which in itself was not a big deal but seemed like it at the time. Later I found a cozy and thankfully clean room in a big house a little east of downtown with a lovely older couple who keep trying to feed me cookies. Although I hope to find my own place soon, this will do just fine for now.
I've also started a new job. I won't talk about that much, but only say that I don't quite know what I'm doing or will be doing. I've come to this job at a time of great change, so everyone tells me, though I don't yet know the backstories. I like the people and so far I like the job very much. Although I'm still quiet and socially awkward - as I usually am for weeks to months when meeting new people - I feel oddly comfortable here. Yet, my dear friends in Toronto, expect a house guest often.
posted by Am at 10:41 PM
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