Olga's Poetry & Thoughts

I can't believe I'm moving to Toronto. Okay, it's not that far away from Richmond Hill, but it's going to be a big change. I grew up in these neighbourhoods. I've been in Richmond Hill for nine years now and I don't even remember life outside of this town. I know these streets on the back of my hand. In a mere three days, I will be completely cut off from this wicked little town (minus the fact that I have a job here, different story). Today, I walked around Richmond Hill. Visited my old high school (the cramped hallways, the secret corridors and the back field... memories came flooding back). Took one last glance at Central Library (all those hours spent at the exam tables, "studying" for mediocre high school exams). Ordered one last meal at the renovated McDonald's on Bayview and Major Mackenzie (probably spent hundreds of dollars at that place on McChicken combos alone). Walked past my old house, the one my parents and I moved into when we f

When I was seven years old, I got three dollars a week of allowance. I usually spent it on bubblegum or really cheap stuffed animals. Then one day, when I was with my parents at Wal-Mart, I snooped through the "summer toys" section to come across the most incredible toy ever, in my mind- an insect catcher. It was made of clear plastic and the lid had an opening that you could slide open, then snap shut, in order to catch the bugs. There was a net on one side of the container so that the bugs would be able to breathe. I was flabbergasted at the idea that such a wonderful invention existed, but I knew that my parents would never buy me this toy. They would tell me to get a Ziploc bag or tupperware instead. Those caught bugs too. But this was a special bug catcher and it cost fifteen dollars. It took me four good months of saving up allowance in order to buy this insect catcher (I spent a bit of it on bubblegum, so it slowed down the "saving" process). At last, I pro

For as long as I can remember, I've had the same unachievable goal, which I believed to be my life's purpose: to achieve perfection. I wanted to be a straight A student, an idol for the younger generation, the prettiest girl on the block, the girl with the perfect boyfriend, the perfect balance of everything that is wonderful and exquisite. Little did I realize that perfection is just a myth, like Big Foot or the cookie monster. I now type this blog post, feeling both shock and excitement, about my new found discovery- that the thing I've been trying so hard to attain all these years does not exist. It's a big pill to swallow, but hopefully a glass full of water and reality will ease the pain. The biggest problem with trying to be perfect is having the constant feeling of guilt and failure. Since perfection is an illusion, I'm chasing after nothing. I feel guilty for not being perfect and, by this definition, I'm a failure because I'm not perfect. This sou

I know you’re cheating on me with the game This foolishness is driving me insane If the taste of beer is sweeter than me Then kiss the keg and leave me be Love deprived, you’re a sad bitter man A lonely, sleazy Maple Leafs fan Half-undressed, I stand at the door You say move, honey, game starts at four I know that your friends will come over soon You’ll cheer on the team and yell like baboons Your life goals reflect your poor persona You can’t even choose- Guinness or Corona You’ve worn the same jersey for three days now You’ve fed on nothing but frat boy chow (Mr. Noodles, hot dogs, and leftover steak And last month’s strawberry birthday cake) It hits twelve pm and you still hit snooze If they lose, you drown your tears with booze And if they win, you celebrate with the gin Who do you love more- me or Fenton? I’m not sure why I haven’t left you yet But at a hockey game is where we first met

Dear Mother: Although it is difficult for me to imagine you as a messy haired twenty-something-year-old listening to Nirvana, it recently occurred to me that, before my existence, you had your own rockin’ life filled with studying and partying and embracing your days as an adult. Then you decided to have me, without knowing what I would turn out as- if I’d be a boy or a girl? (Both have their highs and lows). A dunce or a genius? (I’m somewhere in between the two, so I hope I didn’t disappoint you). I guess parenting is a tricky gamble and is arguably one of the hardest things to do in life. But I’m really grateful that you didn’t give up on me, even when I was doing annoying things, like refusing to eat my potatoes or drawing on the walls in marker.  In my preteen years, I’d get mad at you for not letting me use the computer or go out past nine because I thought you wanted to rob me of my freedom; in reality you were just disciplining me into becoming the well roun

I'm not usually intrigued by superhero action movies, but since I work at the cinema, I can't resist seeing some blockbuster action flicks from time to time, the newest one being Iron Man 3. Although the movies are based on comic books, I still like to do a literary overanalysis of the characters, their flaws, and the hidden messages that they're portraying about our society. Popular media defines society as it is in the moment. For example, back in the post-war days, literature was depressing and scrutinized the advance of the Industrial Revolution and lack of individualism (take into account Virginia Woolf or Sylvia Plath). Now, our society seems to hail the cynical hero- the one who makes snippy remarks, has low moral standards, and consumes himself with one-night stands- the jerk. The greatest example of the cynical jerk superhero is Iron Man. The newest Iron Man movie had a simple, predictable plot line (nerd wants revenge, things get blown up, pretty girl, nerd b

A while back, I wrote about the things I looked for in my "other half" ( http://www.olgapoetrytree.blogspot.ca/2013/01/on-origin-of-love.html )- respect, intellectual stimulation, devotion... These things are important, but now I'm starting to think that I'm looking for something much deeper than that. I am on a personal quest to discover myself as a student, a daughter, a writer, a woman, a human being with qualities that contribute to society. And at the same time I wish that my quest will intertwine with someone else's, and that this someone will help me on my quest as much as I will help him. A while back, I gave up. I forgot about my personal quest and I got lost in a forest of self-destruction and defeat. Now that I am getting back on my wobbly legs, like a newborn calf, I am starting to realize that the person I want to share my journey with has to do much more than just fulfill my basic requirements. His high paying career path is a plus, but not a must. H