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Emulating Emily

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Archives for April 2017

Petrichor

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While cleaning out my room this week, I uncovered a stack of papers containing short stories and flash fiction that I had written last summer. With most of the writing I do on scraps of papers, I end up grouping them together in small piles and stashing them somewhere that I won’t look for nearly a year later, if not longer. After going through this newfound pile, I picked out a few that I’d like to share here on my blog in the coming weeks.

 

Scroll down to read the first…

 

 

She stared out into the open, arms crossed under her leaning body. The stone railing held her upright, but nothing sheltered her from the sparse but steady rainfall coming from above. The rain clouds moved languidly, gradually making their way toward the last remaining traces of sunlight that she could discern in the far distance. Slowly, her mane of chestnut hair soaked up each raindrop, her clothing turning a deeper shade as it too, drank up the rain. From miles away, thunder rolled loud and deep, the lethargic grumble rolling its way across a blackening sky.

 

Still, she kept her arms crossed against the rough grey stone, sinking her body further into the stance. Rainfall could never perturb her. With only the terrace spanning before her, there was nothing particularly intriguing to see; nothing that she could not see on any other day in far better weather. Of course, she knew this was so, but staring out in these conditions was something in and of itself. The moisture in the air could not gather on her skin and face like this, nor the nearly non-existent breeze whisper in her hair, nor raindrops kiss her eyelashes on any other type of day. She could not feel the Earth weep, hear Her low groan, nor smell Her dewy tears in any other circumstances.

 

The rainfall increased, a heavy sigh from the clouds releasing the warm water from above her. The thunder grew louder, creeping closer to her safe spot on the balcony. Beyond the walls enclosing the terrace gardens, she easily could see a thick pocket of trees, a single sparrow darting from a distant rooftop awning, into the thick, deep green foliage.

 

Rain fell heavier upon her narrow shoulders, seemingly washing away her sins and misgivings as easily as it watered the Earth. Each droplet from the downpour worked toward erasing her fears; her hates; her distrusts, sweeping them away to the soil far below to be purged and forgotten.

 

Lightening cracked overhead, the illuminating force of nature glowing against her face. With her eyes closed slightly, she straightened her back, turned her face upward, and smiled.

 

***

 

X,

Emily

Balancing Academic and Creative Writing

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Distraction-free writing 👀

A post shared by Emily Michelle (@emilyfata) on

 

After spending over four years inundating myself with academic writing and reading material, it has been of some difficulty to transition back into effectively writing creatively. There were countless days in this near half-decade of my life where I sat emptily in front of my computer staring blankly at the screen, hoping that something — anything — would once again spark my creative writing abilities. The truth is, it can be extremely difficult to flip-flop between an academic mindset and a creative one; in post-secondary school, particularly one heavily based in science, we are expected to think of everything critically and quite often, from a singular point of view. It’s unsurprising that the result is an inhibition of creative flow… But there is a way to begin counteracting this, especially once you’ve moved on from that academic mentality and are ready to fully get back into creative writing.

 

Many times, I convinced myself that I was being creative just by planning out my stories. Though there was something rather imaginative about this (I was still coming up with a fictional story line — from the era of the plot, to the characters, their relationships with one another, and their background stories), I still felt like it just wasn’t enough. This was all done scribbled on pieces of paper in point form and, in a way, I was transitioning myself from a very critical and “abbreviated” research-oriented mentality to a more innovative one. To help with this, I have happily gotten back into the swing of reading as many novels as possible, vying for inspiration with each turn of a page.

 

As a cry out into the void of time and space in my desperate need to write fictional stories again, I asked for (and received) a We R Memory Keepers Typecast Typewriter from Michaels. Using a typewriter for my creative endeavors has really helped, as it removes me from distractions like social media, emails, and the internet in general. These are all things that I apparently have zero self control over when writing on my laptop. When you feel devoid of that passion for writing, regardless of how momentary it may be in the grand scheme of things, it becomes easy to get distracted by the other things at your disposal — mainly, the aforementioned features a laptop offers, that a typewriter does not.

 

Needless to say, getting back into novel writing has been a bit difficult. I have pages and pages of ideas for my next story, but am missing the drive to execute it and bring it to life. In between the chapters I write of that story however, I now find myself easily writing poem after poem. This is something that I had done quite easily in high school, but found increasingly difficult (as I moved more into novel writing) toward my senior year and into university. I’ve become quite attached to poetry writing, as it’s something that I can focus on and complete in a brief amount of time, yet still a piece that I can convey a great deal of passion and emotion through.

 

Of course, the ability to write longer works and once again form intricate lives and complex feelings for fictional characters will return to me once again. In the mean time, I’m content in writing what short pieces I can fully focus on, and brainstorming ideas for the day that I can again immerse myself fully in the written word.

 

How do you keep on track with your creative writing? What do you do to get yourself out of a writing rut? Let me know in the comments!

 

X,

Emily

Deciding When to Move Out

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Back when I lived in Whitby and my entire social life revolved this area, I couldn’t have pictured myself moving out of the Durham Region.

 

In grade 12, as I was nearing my high school graduation and preparing to go to the University of Waterloo, moving out from my then-home in Whitby was inevitable. The notion of having my own space and total freedom seemed like a dream come true. Along with it, I had all of these far-fetched ideas of how I would spend my freshman year at university. The Emily of 2012 was someone who neatly packed her embroidered tea towels, china tea set, framed opera posters, and any other dainty lacy thing I had collected over the years, and imagined how I would deck out my new townhouse residence. After spending one day in said residence with my crazy roommates, I decided that living away from home was not for me. In fact, at the end of the first semester, I transferred to Ryerson and spent my time commuting from both my mom’s in Whitby and my dad’s in Toronto.

 

It’s been over four years since I decided for myself to make this move back home, and although I sincerely did miss the freedom of being able to do what I wanted, I still found that I was largely able to move about the city of Toronto (and Durham, when I went to visit my high school friends) as I pleased. The first couple years of this were perfectly fine, especially as my number of friends from back home sizzled down to a select few, most of whom regularly frequent Toronto anyways, while my social group living in Toronto began to expand. In many ways, I have been laying myself a foundation for eventually living in Toronto during this time; I am comfortable here, I am happy, and I can’t picture myself working anywhere else but in the city. Not to mention the perks of having constant access to concerts and events (and the subway), which are all extremely important things for me. There is no sense of isolation living in the city, unlike when I was living in Waterloo. Because of this, I have found myself contemplating more and more the idea of moving out and getting my own place to live.

 

Moving into residence at the University of Waterloo in August 2012. Not one of my best choices, but still one that I learned a great deal from.

 

Most importantly, because I can’t afford to live completely on my own and need a roommate, deciding who it is that I want to live with is a difficult task in itself. For the last several years, my friend and I have fantasized about living in California while going to school there; however, after I revoked my applications to U.S. schools post-election and Christian decided on taking a year off to work before his postgraduate schooling, I realized that I would have to consider having another roommate while I stayed in Toronto to complete my certificate program in marketing. Thankfully, one of my closest friends (who I have known since I was six years old) is looking to move out of her apartment and is more than willing to share a place with me. If I am being completely honest here, I already spend a significant amount of my time hanging out at her place, so we know that we not only get along well in a small space, but also have the same taste in décor (I’ve drifted from my Victorian manor style to a more modern, coastal vibe…although, I still want to keep my bedroom soft and feminine). We are also dead set on living in the heart of downtown Toronto, close to both work and school.

 

As we narrow down where exactly it is that we will be living and go to view different condo units, the fact that I am going to be moving out becomes increasingly real each time, and consequently makes me so much more excited. I can see my living space coming together in my mind’s eye. The desire for me to get my life together intensifies with each unit visit. To think that by the end of the summer, I will be living in my own space and have this extra responsibility – but also the total freedom that comes with it – is quite liberating.

 

When did you move into your first place? Do you have any tips or tricks for someone who is living on their own (outside of school) for the first time? Let me know in the comments!

 

X,

Emily

Freedom & the Fear of Adult Living

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I’ve finally done it. I’ve completed my final term of my undergraduate degree, and each “last” was a roaring triumphant victory: turning in my last paper, completing my last lab, writing the last word on my final exam. As I pushed through these last months, I have been so wrapped up in reaching the finish line that I gave little thought to what I truly want to do after it was all over. Since I was a kid, I constantly flip-flopped between what I wanted to be when I grew up, always trying to pick “real” jobs. When I was in kindergarten and probably up until the age of seven, I wanted to be a veterinarian because I loved animals. Then, when I was eight, I thought I’d make a good teacher (probably because the idea of eventually being able to boss around a bunch of kids seemed like a fun idea). When I was nine, I wasn’t sure what I wanted to be, but I knew I wanted to do something fun. From the age of ten to twelve, I considered veterinary work again on and off. At thirteen however, my dad brought me to several of the Introductory Psychology night lectures he was taking at York University and I was so genuinely enraptured by the intricacies of human behaviour; on those few visits, I’d bring a notebook with me and take notes like the other university students, even though I undoubtedly stood out like a sore thumb among the adult students. I decided then that I would do something psychology-based.

 

High school began, and I decided I should be a doctor. A pediatric oncologist, which I probably decided because it sounded fancy and also because I felt like I was emotionally stable enough to treat children dying of cancer. By my senior year of high school, I knew this was not the case (I refused to take chemistry) and I revisited the idea of psychology. Somehow, amidst all of these ever-changing career paths, I never once allowed myself to consider one in the subjects that I excelled most in, and that gave me a genuine sense of excitement to learn more: English and history. I realized as I applied for universities that I would be happiest in a literature major, or even skipping post-secondary altogether and just writing for the rest of my days, but I was told by too many people and consequently convinced myself that this isn’t a “real” job. Plus, I found it was reasonable to have a back-up career. So I married the fascination incited in me by my dad’s psychology classes along with my adolescent idea of becoming a doctor, and decided that I would pursue a PhD in clinical psychology to eventually become a psychologist for terminally ill children.

 

One university change (from the University of Waterloo in first year to Ryerson University in second year) and several science courses halfway into my degree, I realized that I was not cut out for a PhD in psychology not necessarily because my grades weren’t as amazing as I had hoped they would be, but because I lacked interest in the material (remember the chemistry courses I refused to take in high school? That came to bite me in the ass in university, when I had to take multiple chem-based courses). Anything that deviated from learning about human behaviour eventually came to bore me; I felt bombarded by course after course that I did not want to take and an increasing desire to just do what made me happy, not what I thought would pay me really well.

 

Nonetheless, after sinking thousands upon thousands of dollars into a university education, I felt that I needed to do some sort of postgraduate work with my psychology degree. Enter Teacher’s College (which I’ve written about in the past, back when I was still trying to figure everything out). This was something I truly felt (and still feel) like I could have been good in, but it was a cop-out from doing what I actually want to do.

 

I don’t want to live my life waking up for work day after day, simply because I have to make ends meet or need to pay my rent/mortgage. I want to do something that makes me excited to get things done, that I don’t feel is a “job” that I must do. I want to write (however that talent of mine may manifest in a given career choice) and I want to be creative.

 

When I got my rejection letter from the University of Toronto, which I had applied to for Teacher’s College for, I won’t deny that I threw myself across my bed and sobbed for close to an hour, filled with self-pitying thoughts about how I’m not good enough for the Canadian version of an ivy league school, and how my life was going to be meaningless without the program I wasn’t even 100% sold on. After discussing it with several of my friends, I found myself on Ryerson’s continuing education site (despite vowing to myself that I’d never step foot in my school again after graduation, because I was so sick of it), and genuinely thrilled to come across a marketing certificate program that seems to fit everything I want to do, plus can be considered a “real job”. I had never really considered it before, but the thought of only having to do a certificate program while still able to work full-time satiates all the desires I currently hold in regards to kick-starting my adult life:

  • Utilizes my psychology degree in a way that I would enjoy;
  • Because the program runs in evening courses, it allows me start working full-time and thus, pay my own rent (I can afford to move out!!);
  • I can still pursue some sort of education after completing my undergraduate degree, but most importantly;
  • I have the chance to work in a career that allows me to fully embrace my creative nature, while also having opportunities to write

 

I felt very lost for a while, and was constantly in a state of confusion over my life. To some extent, it still does scare me that I have to start being an adult now; it’s funny to think how I have legally been one for the past (nearly) five years, but I am only now starting to feel the weight of this implication. I feel that it’s time for me to move out on my own not just because I know so many people my own age doing so, but because I feel the emotional and mental need to. I’ve realized that I really need my own space. There are some adult responsibilities I’m definitely not ready for right now (namely marriage and kids), but I think these foundational big steps are putting me on the right track toward feeling some semblance of living an adult life. I can’t go on forever feeling nervous about moving forward with my life and earning degree after degree to avoid having to start living… Nor do I want to.

 

For the first time, I feel genuinely excited and comfortable in the future I’ve laid out for myself, and as if I can make a life for myself from this foundation.

4 Little Things You Can Do Daily If You’re Feeling Overwhelmed By City Life 

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Toronto: my beautiful city that I sometimes just need to escape from.

 

Despite my adoration of city life, I’m the first to say that there are times where I need to step back from being surrounded by the hustle and bustle of total urbanity. I spend nearly every moment of my life surrounded by both locals and tourists, especially since my university is located smack-dab in the middle of downtown Toronto and work part-time in guest services as one of Toronto’s top tourist attractions. When you spend that much time surrounded by a constant flow of people, you can’t help but acknowledge the fact that you’ve become a city girl; I am a city girl through and through, there’s no denying it.

However, this isn’t to say that there are not times where I become so overwhelmed with city life that I recognize that I must step back and take some time away from my ‘everyday’. Each year, I find a way to re-center myself before re-immersing back into the city life I truly do love.

 

1. Take a trip somewhere surrounded by wildlife and nature.

For the past few years, I have had to ‘detox’ from city life and the stress of existing so frequently smack-dab in the middle of downtown, by taking the 6+ hour bus ride to Sudbury and adding a couple hour drive to Elliot Lake, in order to spend a week with my family living up north. This time is spent completely devoid of the stresses I face living in Toronto, and after getting my week-long fill of country life, I am always ready to get back home. In the mean time however, I am able to fill my time up with enough country road drives, lake wading, antique shopping, horse snuggling, and kayaking to last me the next 51 weeks of the year.

Missing hanging out at the property almost as much as I miss my cousins.

A post shared by Emily Michelle (@emilyfata) on

2. Visit friends or family living in a small town.

One thing about living in the big city that I actually like (but that you may not) is the disconnect from people. You don’t know everyone’s business and nobody knows yours, unless you tell them. However, if you like feeling this interconnectedness with everyone around you, go visit your friends and family who live in a small town. While escaping the city for point #1, mentioned directly above, I spend my week in the town of Elliot Lake, where everyone knows everything about you.

 

I can see the appeal of this to some people, because there is a sense of community and safety when you know everyone that you live in proximity of, as well as the goings-on of their lives.

3. Take a day trip to a conservation area and go for a hike.

I love taking my camera and a bag of halved grapes to go to the conversation areas in Durham Region for photos and duck feeding. I often find myself leaning over the pier situated on top of the large pond, quieting my mind and letting it wander to think about whatever it wants. Other times, I’ve gone on long hiking trails and spend the entire morning thinking about where my next steps will take me, instead of stressing about school; work; or dealing with masses of people.

4. Go on vacation to an island.

If you can afford it, travel somewhere far away, where you’ll know not a soul. Removal from the bustle of city life and situating yourself in total seclusion, just for a little while, can do wonders for your mental health and high-strung demeanor. Not to mention that salt water and the roaring of waves never hurt anybody.

 

Sometimes taking a time out is crucial to continuing enjoying life in a place filled with so much movement and a great number of people. Removing yourself from the city for a week or two in a more quiet and subdued environment is not because you dislike your own area in any way, but rather because we all need some peace and quiet once in a while. An annual trip to a more secluded destination is the perfect opportunity to align yourself back to basics and ready yourself to enter once again into bustling city life.

How do you take a break from city life? Let me know in the comments!

Happy travels!

 

X,

Emily