Magdalena O!

The more I think about all these art and design programs I am applying to, the more I think about which ones I really actually want to go to and then I start thinking about why I am so stubborn about going through more schooling. I could just take a certificate program and probably end up with a similar or even better paying job. But I don’t want to do that, I want to go to art school and experience that environment. I want to experience it in Europe. What is it exactly that I want to accomplish? What do I really want to do? I know what I love and what inspires me and makes me feel alive in this grandiose way, but is graphic design the way I want to give back to myself? Am I just nervous about being rejected? What if all the schools reject me? Design has been my life. My life? The more I think about moving and doing something so full of risk (something that never pans out well for me) the more I think about death. What if I die struggling for this? Should I even bother? Would I even know if I died?

My desire for new experiences moves me, because I am so afraid of dying. Instantly. How would I know this has all ended and I am not Magda as I know to be in my physical body? How do I die? Not in the sense of a physical death, but how do we die? Our nerves just pop? Our experiences cease to exist? I guess that’s what faith is for. Sometimes I wonder if there is an alternate consciousness to me and I don’t even know it, but it knows me. How can it be that I can experience a totally different physical reality on salvia while being restricted by my body in this reality? I should take note if any temporal changes happen next time I take lsd. I should be sleeping, but the worry of death has taken over me. For years I had terrors as a child that I would be killed in my 20′s. Actually, the night terrors have never stopped, but the crying has. The anxiety that I won’t wake up. That tomorrow I will not be able to experience whatever it is that I want. That, as I now understand it to be, sex won’t be there, orgasms won’t be there or music or my legs taking me across the city. The biggest life change so far is coming up. I am expecting a slew of anxiety – my stomach has already warned me with its relentless knots.

This is an actual letter sent to Proctor and Gamble from Wendi Aarons of Austin, TX, regarding their feminine products.

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A few months ago I became a board member of the West Queen West Business Improvement Association (BIA) on behalf of my workplace. The BIA stretches along the overhyped constantly gentrified Queen Street from Bathurst to Dufferin. Marcus, the co-ordinator pleaded with me so that I would join. So that I could bring a fresh new voice to the BIA. The BIA is mainly made up of owner’s of businesses, and I, not even a manager at my work, was chosen. The president of my work agreed (especially considering my past political forays) and I nearly fucking cried. Sometimes it’s difficult for me to accept that others have faith in me, faith in my potential.

There’s several sub-committees and I was elected to be the chair of Streetscape – the committee that’s devoted to beautifying the street. This is the most vital subcommittee and has the most impact on the neighbourhood and here I am, part of that decision-making process. The first meeting I went to, I mostly kept quiet and felt intimidated by people that have lived in the area longer than I’ve been alive. I kept quiet when they were discussing graffiti removal. I kept quiet when ideas on beautifying the street seemed uninspired. The free snacks provided my mouth full of food instead of conflicting words.
The next meeting I went to, the general board meeting, I was one of twelve people and they all had something to say. How much of this can I talk of here? Vaguely, it was the same old story of the executives not bothering with respect and rules and disregarding the rest of the board, because some issues are just not worth discussing with the rest of us. I sat there again, quietly. The executives didn’t even bother to introduce me until I chimed in half-way. “So, just to let everyone know I’m Magda…” There was actually two other new people there to, so introductions from the circle came around, ending in a wank fest of who’s been on the street longer. I spoke up after that. I did.

A major project I have to discuss at the next meeting,

2 Ossington is being torn down for another ‘modern’ five story building with slate gray walls and a look unfit for the historical visage of the street. Everything is being torn down lately. Everything needs to be fresh and clean and white. I thought we all realized the Lysol dilemma years ago?