Midnight in Paris

Photos of graffiti in Guelph 

Rarely do I ever want to watch a movie in theatres (I suffer from slight movie theatre ADHD), but when I heard about 'Midnight in Paris' I knew it was worth a trip to the theatres. I, for one, adore Woody Allen movies strictly for the dialogues & his neurotic view of human relationships (my favourites include Annie Hall, Manhattan, & the Purple Rose of Cairo). The film’s elements embodies all the major themes that I often use as a foundation to examine my own life: Nostalgia of relationships, escapism to a previous era, and romanticism of an idealized past that life is better from times passed and cities unknown. Add the dazzling cinematography of Paris + the classic music of Cole Porter + Woody Allen satire + post-modern art and literary references, and you have yourself a brilliant film. 

Owen Wilson’s character is much like myself; it is evident that he is a fellow purveyor of nostalgia as he struggles to write a book about a nostalgia store. He uses the past as an antidote to fill the void of his current relationship and present life circumstances. He bewilders in the idea of living and loving in the 1920s, the years he believes is analogous to a “golden era”. As his character develops, he realizes that no matter the era we live in, there’s always a time and a place that we long for; a time period and place that we feel better suits ourselves. 

John Lennon says it best, “If The Beatles or the sixties had a message, it was to learn to swim. The people who are hung up on The Beatles and the sixties dream missed the whole point when The Beatles and the sixties dream became the point". Both Allen and Lennon cautions us that we create our idealized world by dreaming of the past. If we are constantly looking back, we will be missing the possibilities of our current time. We can use the past to point our way but it is only through our present can we truly find ourselves. Rather than reminiscing about the dreams of the past, live that dream now. 


Yours,

P. xo.

Guelph

Memorial of John McCrae - Author of Flanders Fields

Pictures from our short day trip to the energy-sucking ghost town of Guelph in the summer. 

Yours,

P. xo.

I'm not sleeping but I'm still dreaming

 Gifted Abbey Road playing cards from London

 Playing cards before the outdoor movie at Waterloo Park

Rango

We can never really understand our sleeping dreams; they leave just as fast as they enter our cognition. During my last remaining hours of sleep this morning, I must have woken up at least a half dozen times to vaguely remember that my dreams included roundtable discussions with people from my past. These dreams and their scattered details have left me lingering about the people who have slipped under my subconscious. Why were these people there? Because of excommunicated feelings? Because of personal vendettas re-released in dream form? When we wake up from an improbable dream, we interpret and analyze as if it is our looking glass into reality. However, I really don’t think there is any need to dissect every dream as if they have an inherent meaning. Every dream remembered is left for interpretation and how we reflect on our dreams, reflects on how we perceive our own lives. The important thing to take away from dreams is that it is only through the practice of analysis do we find its significance. For example, in the past I was guilty of dreaming of a not-so-nice thing boyfriend-at-the-time did and felt an uncontrollable angst against him the rest of the day. It was as if I had believed there was a reason to the dream and therefore drew upon the warpness of my mind to create a new reality. Trying to make sense of that dream led me to be confused with my real-life. The dream was not a mirror of reality and so an explanation of why I dreamt what I did would not have sufficed. It’s only through being a critic of my own thinking did I discover why I felt this way.

Yours,

P. xo.

Summer sports

TFC vs. Vancouver Whitecaps Game 

Blue Jays vs. Phillies

I love how there are always vast amount of things to do around Ontario and how every city within the province has something different to offer in terms of heritage, festivals, events, nightlife and scenery. Although I haven’t been magnetized by Toronto (as I still think there’s nothing to be culturally envious about), I do appreciate their wide range of professional sports. I just wish that I had caught a Raptors game!

P.S. We are currently experiencing record breaking heat in Waterloo. 34 degrees celsius but feels like 46, and still rising! The weather is definitely something to write home about since Vancouver is experiencing clouds and isolated showers.

Yours,

P. xo.

Prove Yourself

Pictures from the Craft Beer and Rib Fest in Victoria Park, Kitchener

Specifically from this weekend, my observations of others have shown me that we are all in a match to prove something to ourselves. Whether it is our egotistical determinations or individualistic desires to not be defeated, we want to prove to ourselves that we are not foundation-less. This attest to our own personhood can come in the form of trying every game at a carnival until a disposable toy is won, proving that emotions can be controlled after a breakup, proving that the strongest of friendships can remain, proving that all it takes is one more lift, one more goal, one more word...

The Purveyor of Revived Nostalgia

Where we ate our dinner

Inside St. Jacob's Antique Market

 Just a portion of the massive record collection in St. Jacob's Antique Market 

 If it wasn't so heavy, I would be packing it to bring home 

 $350. Still thinking about how much I want this.

 My new "old" camera

The pictures above are from St. Jacob's Antique Market. My fellow purveyors and I also made the short journey over to Canada's largest Antique market in Preston. The camera and suitcases are some of the vintage goodies I have acquired over the last little while. 

The two greatest things that my Dad ever gave me was life and the Beatles.

I grew up listening to music circa 1960 which included the likes of The Beatles, The Beach Boys, Lesley Gore... among many others. I often lamented over how my dad insisted on playing his music around the house and within the confinement of the green mini-van. However, with time I developed a particular admiration for the yesteryears and have since dreamt of being a teenybopper on American Dreams who makes the defiant transition into a flower child. My love of the oldies extended into films when I discovered classics such as Rebel Without a Cause, Some Like it Hot, Roman Holiday, An American in Paris, and Grey Gardens. While it would be fascinating to imagine that I am the rebirth of a sixties mod, it seems more believable that I love vintage because it restores the reveries of my childhood.

Yours,

P. xo. 

The Panache of a Silk Scarf

Wearing and thinking thin because of the twists of my trajectories

Like that of a silk scarf bequeathed to me, life's offerings should not weigh my 

shoulders down

Wrapped ever so gently so its sheerness does not make me impervious
But blanketed enough to be protected

I could not think of a better way to cure any feverish emotions than dedicating a portion of my weekend to watching movies. I can now cross these movies off my list: Burlesque, Schindler’s List, Requiem for a Dream, and Sunshine Cleaning. I'm ready for a new week!

Yours,

P. xo.