Productive Mornings

I know, it’s been a dry week; No New Heads Up Phones Down Posts!!!!!!! They say vulnerability is a huge part of blogging (It’s true, I read it in the Wall Street Journal) and so to be honest, I’ve had writers block.

Amidst my hiatus, this past week taught me much about both myself and the world, and allowed me to get curious about my new environment.

To start it off, I learned that McGill had a Quidditch team.  Never really having thought about Quidditch in a real life context before, I started going down a rabbit hole.

Do people playing Quidditch actually run around with a broom between their legs? I’m dying to know. Please tell me.

Also, what’s the demographics of the Quidditch team?? Is it only Harry Potter fans?? Do they have a varsity version? Are there really people still playing Quidditch at 20 years old?

Right now (It’s 2:30pm). Normally I’m not a big morning person, but when I woke up today at 9:15 I was ready to take on the day. What was different? I knew that I would be reunited with my MS51 sweatshirt.

Some of you may be asking yourselves how I could have possibly forgotten it in NY, and I really don’t know. But, no stress, because Celeste graciously offered to bring it all the way across the Canada-United States Border for me.

I could feel it in my bones that I was going to be productive.

I even finally got up the motivation to walk all the way to the dining hall (which I go to daily anyways  - but it’s different, I swear) and drop off my room form to tell them that my light doesn’t work.

This ceiling light, I tell you. She’s a moody bitch. Sometimes she works, sometimes she doesn’t. When I turn her off, sometime she stays on. It’s a process. (Rough, I know, I’ve had to live off the light shining from my closet and desk for a week)

Unfortunately, they were closed. Not to worry, though, because with Lola and Celeste by my side, we set off to do errands.

FIRST STOP: the pharmacy. You might want to sit down for this one. I bought Emergen-C. I know. Who am I? My parents??

They didn’t have the orange flavor but #NeverthelessShePersisted, and I left the store with lemon lime in hand.

To be honest, that’s really all I wanted to share. I feel like a new woman almost, reborn.

I did also go to the grocery store and finally bought dishes (Gone are the days of eating off a magazine). Unfortunately, even with all this productivity, it doesn’t seem like today is going to be my day to shine in terms of laundry. Oh well, that’s a problem for Tuesday!!

Violet

CANADA, WHAT THE FUCK?

Something I’ve noticed, in my limited time here, is that lots of things in Canada don’t make sense. Why are the outlets upside down? And why are they so high up on the wall?? Too bad I don’t know any electrical engineers.

Why does it say the seven rules to live by but only have five rules? Begs the question, is the poster trying to frustrate the reader, leaving them hanging for more motivational words of wisdom? Or maybe it’s just the touch of a shitty printer. Either way, good thing this in another dorm because I would not have stood for being subjected to this misrepresentation of facts every time I left my room.

Next on the list, the crosswalks say zero seconds on them the entire time the light is red, which makes you think that it just turned when really it could change back to green at any second.

More crosswalk drama: No one here crosses the street on a red light.

The date is DD/MM/YYYY, which theoretically makes sense, sure, but as an American, I’m fucked.

CANADA, I GUESS

Since I’m gonna be living here for a while, I thought I should off-shoot this with all the things Canada does right.

First off, on this cookie box we got, they suggested making s’mores. You know, in all my years, I’d never thought about making s’mores with the cookies that came with the chocolate combined. It really makes you think. Because, this way, the chocolate is consistently even, not going to fall out, and covers the entire s’more. Very well thought out, and this is coming from a “Titan of Tech”

Parc du Mont Royal is basically prospect park if it didn’t suck.

There’s an elevator in my building.

On top of the elevator, there are motivational posters every which way. Primely located, I can be reminded of these wise words on the daily.

Last but not least, theres bees everywhere. Not sure if this is scientifically correct, but it makes me think that they’re doing at least something right. Plus, it increases the number of times I can LOL about people being complete bitches about bees.

This is an unfinished list, don’t worry.

-Violet

Bagel V Bagel

Thoughts on the everlasting MTL v NYC bagel debate. What does one have on the other, and who comes out on top?

As a New Yorker, I need to state my bias. Before even trying a MTL bagel, I already know that there is one right answer, and you’re not gonna find it in Canada.

I should have known what I was in for the second I stepped into the bagel shop. Before I could think straight, I was assaulted by the sight of boho industrial decor every which way.

Putting this out of my mind (albeit difficulty, it was a lot to take in), determined it fulfill the bagel craving I had been feeling for days, I ordered my usual: sesame toasted with cream cheese and tomato.

I saw a chocolate bagel, which intrigued me, but I felt like it was unfair to start the review on unequal footing.

What felt like hours later, it was ready.

I peeled away the paper surrounding it, and could already feel the dry and flaky outside coming apart in my hands.

In the first bite, my suspicions were confirmed. Montreal had nothing on New York.

(Georgias bagel - I was too distraught to take photos)

I’ve thought all day about the best way to describe it, and the most fitting conclusion I could make was an airport bagel.

It was dry and unnaturally chewy, so different from the pillowy cushions of dough from back home.

I’m not sure if the business is struggling or if this is just the norm, but there was so little cream cheese and salt on there that I could almost taste the frugal owners’ plans to save money.

I almost had to peel apart the bagel to check that there was stuff inside, the whisper of cream cheese was so faint.

Even with all this: there was more. A simple bagel with cream cheese, not even considering the tomato, was 3.99. While even back home I would have felt cheated by this, the knowledge that the amount of dough and cream cheese in a New York bagel was easily triple the one I ate this morning made it too much to bear.

This bagels saving grace was the cream cheese (What’s awkward for them is that it just tasted like Philadelphia, so the best thing about their bagel was grocery store cream cheese). However, even so, it wasn’t enough.

Admittedly, other than the initial bias, I’m not dissing the Montreal bagel with finality. I know for a fact that I could find better elsewhere in the city, so now the hunt is on. I hope that they can redeem theirselves, for both our sakes.