Nothing says “let’s start fresh this year,” like moving every single piece of your shit.

…Uhh… into a new apartment, not like, just reorganizing it, or moving everything you own one centimetre to the left, just to see if it messes with your chi.

This is how I’ve chosen to begin 2014.  Well, like, the 4th.  At midnight on January 1st itself, I was celebrating at a posh restaurant in Niagara-on-the-Lake with my sibs and that was fun.  But I don’t have the bread to do that all the time, so as of now, I am situated in a tiny apartment on Bloor Street, down the street from things that matter to me, like one of the city’s best comedy venues, a subway station, and a Popeye’s Louisiana Chicken.

My hope for the year is that the proximity to downtown will motivate me to go out and perform more.  Or to stay in and write more. Or to go out and write more.  Or to just do more.

I’m hoping the long Mississauga and before that Etobicoke commute times are over, and with it will come more time to spend working on things I moved to Toronto for in the first place.

So here I am 2014, and I’m right inside Toronto’s bosom.  Inspire me, you crackhead-run whore of a town. And please send over someone with big muscles to help me unpack.

(***Huge shout out for my bf, pops, bro & soon-to-be bro-in-law  for getting me into this tiny little paradise.)