Fitting Rooms

Man, I really dislike fitting rooms.

There are many reasons as to why I think this way, and you might also feel the same way.

So let us begin this list of peeves shall we?

  1. Why do you need my name???: I swear, 1/3 stores I enter has some overly cheery person dressed in all the latest gear ask me for my name. I’m just here to try on a bunch of clothes that I probably won’t buy anyways. I don’t want to awkwardly tell you my name after 3 seconds of stammering the first letter like “E-e-e-eva” and then not look at your face because I know for sure you’ll look hella amused. For most people, this might not be a big problem, but I have a slight speech impediment, so I’d like to do this as little as possible

  2. They tiny tho: I will never be a total jackass and take the handicapped fitting room(s) just for their comfortable size. However, would it kill clothing chains to add a few square feet to their supply closet sized fitting rooms? I don’t want to have to watch for any sharp bench edges or a misplaced hook jabbing me in the back/legs/stomach when I twirl in that cute dress.

  3. Stop asking me stuff: A fitting room is uncomfortable enough for me without you hovering by and asking me if I’m okay every couple minutes. If I want a different size or a different colour, I will probably ask for help (unless a friend is nearby, and in that case they’ll be my clothes swapper) and thank you for walking to the other end of the store to retrieve it for me. But if I’m not, then it’s probably safe to assume that I’m doing okay.



I’m giving a poetry lesson #dafuq?

On Tuesday, I’m going back to my high school not to visit my teachers and annoy them with every single insignificant detail of my post high school life…

…but I’m going back to give a lesson/writing lab/show a bunch of videos and talk hour in spoken word poetry??

Right now, I’m actually like “dafuq? How?” Because even though I’m only giving this lesson to grade 10/15 year olds, it feels like a big deal, since I’ve never had any public speaking experience aside from in class presentations and radio (where I’m speaking into a microphone in a room by myself so it doesn’t really count).

I hope this will help me build up the courage to compete in poetry slams.


Sad late night poetry

It’s 3:30am and I’m still awake. I wrote a spoken word poem a few minutes ago. It is currently still untitled. Here it is:

I hate the way I feel sometimes. Because I remember a time when I felt just a smidge more whole,

a bit more happy,

a bit more of everything else.

I never took this many trips to the ocean because before, simple words didn’t make me lose my balance.

Now, I feel the salt in my wounds with the rain in my heart mix in my eyes and wash over me like the shower I never wanted.

I want to feel whole again.

I want to feel like all my slices are intact, the empty space in me never existed.

It’s so much easier to get pushed off balance with a hole.

You can sift through the memories, force them through,

yet still be left with nothing as the wind carries them off to another body.

I want to feel happy.

Like truly, utterly happy.

But happiness is a vase.

Once it chips and breaks and loses it’s form,

no matter which way you glue it back together,

it’ll always have cracks.