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I’ve survived my first week in Toronto and it has been met with veritable stress and calamity. I’ve reconnected with my parents and my room is as it was, as are the dust mites. They had a little party for me last night, all bunched up in their little dust bunny clouds. So far, I haven’t seen any of my friends yet, and I’m certain half of them don’t even know I’m still alive, let alone back in town.

There seems to be a lack of office supplies here, and I’ve resorted to using my neighbour’s gym bag as a garbage can, and his face as my notepad. He doesn’t seem to mind as much as I thought he would. Across the room from me sit the other developers — mostly php developers. They’re all quite similar to the interface designers and I’ve socialized briefly with them, if only to show them my stupidly awesome wolf shirt.

I realized last night how many people I don’t know anymore. After two years, seldom do people remember what fun it was to take your shirt off at a bar for their birthday. Rarely does that novelty ever give a lasting impression. At least, not a positive one.

Last night, I ended up having dinner by myself at Kim Jung Il’s Kitchen of Pho, nestled amidst the cookie-cutter houses of suburban Mississauga. The dimly lit neon signs decorating the restaurant entrance gave me the uneasy feeling that I was somehow stuck in a B-movie. I stared out the window, half-expecting to see a giant angry red tomato with sharp fangs, come rolling down the empty, wide 10-lane residential streets. The other patrons of the establishment seemed too calm at the prospect of this inevitablity. I quietly ate my dinner and left.

I’ll probably last 6-months living with my parents again, then I’ll have to move somewhere on my own. Being close to my parents is important to them, but being in the next room with only a thin slab of drywall between, might present awkward situations.

After reading Fast Food Nation, I was struck with the notion that I should eat less meat. That I should become a vegetarian, is similar to the notion that Michael Jackson should stop getting nip/tucks. It seemed highly unlikely, after once eating a 28 ounce steak (evenly cooked on all six sides), or even after eating grilled lamb with wild mushroom risotto, that I could resist the undeniable taste of meat.

I took it upon myself to start being more health conscience, eating instant noodles made from spinach, Liptons Side Kicks without the sides. I always thought I ate enough vegetables; potatos, mushrooms, and garlic were always staples in my diet. But if I was to give up meat, I’d have to extend my palate. I tried eating fruit salads, veggie bagel melts, and chewy twigs, but I was still left with a gnawing hunger in my stomach. My stomach was missing meat something fierce. Four days, I laid in my bed after dinner, feeling the agony of my meat-less diet. And then tonight I snapped.

I reached into my fridge, and grabbed half a pound of bacon that I had been neglecting for far too long. Oh sweet bacon, how I’ve missed you. Especially your sides of grisol. Biting down on that salty rind, I was suddenly so very satisfied. It makes everything so much better. Got chicken? Shake ‘n bacon. Got a steak? Wrap it in bacon. I broke down, no more than 4 days of being a meat-less entity, and I feel I need to apologize to George Foreman for neglecting my grill for so long. But my grill is back home. And all I’ve got is a wok with some bacon in it. Read the rest of this entry »