My Toronto theme song

Comes to mind, all the time. Then I listen to it like five times in a row. I love the clever irony in the la-da-da-da-‘s too. Swooning for that which kills your soul. Even as you declare how hard it is to forgive. Like it’s a walk in the park. An ice cream cone at the fair!

Here’s to wishing for the days when uncertainty and angst are behind me (if there is such a thing for those of us not engineered to be engineers). Days when I do the work I bring home. Or don’t bring work home (period). Either way, days on which I don’t have to feel guilty for seeming silly to infinitely cool boys (strike that, MEN, a concept I’m entirely unfamiliar with) lightyears beyond my years, galaxies beyond my leagues. In a way I absolutely deny entirely. And a way in which I haven’t in ages (and would prefer not to, thank you very much. So I admit to nothing. I admit.). Or squandering the evening way on drinks on an empty stomach and the building dread and anxiety of the day (and days, and weeks, and months) ahead. Even as things may be coming together. Looking up. What do these terms mean? Foreign as Greek. Italian. Not German (I know a smidgen of that still). Nazis aside, maybe that’s the best one.

 

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