Remembrance

In the darkest moments of the night, I woke to the spring storm with a start. Woken by the dream with a man I never thought I would, then unable to return to sleep at the realization of another that never could. I checked my timeline to what I already knew was true. These past months my body has been solemnly marking its milestones of a year ago. It remembers the crowd swirling the French academy foyer on that last rainy day in Paris, it remembers the snow-capped mountains surrounding a cabin in Norway. Whenever I’m worked up I just have to look back on the calendar, as I remember the when, my body remembers the who and the how.

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A Union Jack on the loose!

I lost my Blackberry-lookalike Samsung Link cellphone on the bus this morning. It has a Union Jack cover and should be squished in a window seat in the first row of the back half of the bus.

I was in that seat from the start to finish of that bus’s run and I’ve been told by OC Transpo that the bus has since returned to the garage. It’s just frustrating that they wouldn’t give me the garage’s phone number. Who cares about proper procedures when a Union Jack’s on the loose? Transpizzle, my dear insider at OC Transpo, can’t you do something about it?

Now, if you like me and happen to get your hands on the phone, return it for a favour that you can cash in at anytime (N.B. the value of said favour would increase with time, as I become more and more accomplished. Would anyone like to be appointed the head of a Royal Commission and have their name forever enshrined à la Gomery?).

If you don’t like me and happen to get your hands on my phone, enjoy it while you can. I have some juicy texts saved (two years, three countries and just a few men) and a phone book containing the personal numbers of some powerful people in this town. I’m giving my Union Jack 24 hours to make it back to me, then I’m dropping it cold.

If my phone recedes from me like the monarchy is receding from the mainstream (according to some people at least), then it’s time for the upgrade I’ve been thinking about. I need a phone that takes higher quality pictures and videos to cater to the insatiable desires of Penning an Image‘s followers. At the same time, while I have most of the number backed-up or could obtain it again from the individual, there are some people I could, or should, never speak to again. This is a sign from the divine.

-Rong Rose Liu, always glass half-full.

P.S. Of course, you should refrain from sending me texts that could leave you in a compromising position. After all, the Union Jack is temporarily not in my care… I’m having a Maxime Bernier moment.

Tall Tales, Chapter 1 – Tall Men: A Scarce Resource

As a Chinese girl towering at 5’10”, I have plenty of tall tales to share. Here is the first of three of my favorites. Read also Tall Tales, Chapter 2 – A Tall Eyesore and Tall Tales, Chapter 3 – Jack and the Beanstalk Syndrome.

Once I was at a party in a condo off of Elgin Street, one of those new developments geared towards young professionals. The place crawled with young bureaucrats and soon-to-be-young-bureaucrats MA students. As soon as I situated myself at the party, I found myself gravitating towards the two other tall girls at the party. It wasn’t hard for us to locate each other, considering that our heads bobbled well above the sea of hair below.

Typical of female discussions, the topic soon turned to men (unfortunately). For us tall girls specifically, the topic was the lack of tall men. Eventually, we reached the conclusion that every girl could have a guy taller than her, if only people behaved themselves and only dated those whose height is within a reasonable limit to their own. After all, it seemed to us a waste of height for a very short girl to be latched onto a very tall guy. All those precious inches could mean the world of difference to us!

At this point, a petite girl I was talking to earlier penetrated our circle and asked excitedly what we were discussing. Even in her sky-scraping heels, the top of her head barely reached our chests. I very awkwardly began to explain that we were talking about tall men but before I could say any further, she reached for the ceiling as high as she could and burst out: “I love tall men! The taller, the better!!”

*Tall girls exchanged looks with each other

*Crickets

*Tall girls all decided they need to refresh their drinks… at the same time

*Short girl looked around bewildered as to why she was suddenly alone

Read also Tall Tales, Chapter 2 – A Tall Eyesore and Tall Tales, Chapter 3 – Jack and the Beanstalk Syndrome.