I owe many a restless night to our bipolar thermostat. Poor quality sleep has, unfortunately, been a regular occurrence as of late, and Parasite flashbacks hitting me at two thirty in the morning was the last thing I wanted.

Enter Monday with a vengeance for its too-short, two-day disappearance. I arrived at my desk to the marvelous sight of a Mocha from Pilot, along with a handful of snacks that a certain prehistoric had nabbed from the past weekend's Chinese New Year festivities.

The morning daze was gradually assuaged with the assistance of caffeine and sugar, and by lunchtime, I was ready for more exciting endeavours. Well, errands in disguise that later led to the discovery of an illegitimate Brown at UNIQLO. Despite its inauthenticity, the weighty figure brought joy nonetheless.

​The week then proceeded with more mid-day errand-running: fresh fruit to aid digestion and powdered effervescents to keep colds at bay.

​Having been denied of the drop-in zumba class last week, the arrival of Wednesday marked our redemption day.

The post-work plans commenced with tasty treats from Truscott Bakery, an Italian grocer within ten minutes of Clarkson (that I had, interestingly, never chanced across in all my years of commuting).

Far larger than I had imagined, the bakery offered a variety of breads, imported packaged goods, and even a small seating area for in-store consumption. A Buy 6 for No Tax Mix & Match sticky note was pasted at the corner of the pastry section, however I made a beeline for my two items of interest and swiftly maneuvered over to the checkout. This resolution was, regrettably, bulldozed by a supposed sale on ladyfingers. Two packs for $2.49 seemed reasonable in the moment; it wasn't until afterwards that I discovered  significantly more competitive prices.

Moral of the story: Think twice about checkout-side merchandise.

​As far as can be from a movie buff, there are admittedly a few instances where Cineplex is win to earn my hard-earned wages. 
Fabricated City, The Peanuts Movie, Deadpool 2, Crazy Rich Asians, Star Wars, Infinity War, and JOKER are a few titles that have succeeded in the swindling mechanism. Most recently watched was Frozen 2, which was a, surprisingly, great all-around production.

The movie commences in a dingy, dirty semi-basement lodging, where cockroaches are rampant and drunk, urianting men are frequent sights. A poverty-stricken family of four is seen struggling to make ends meet, anxiously hunting for a Wi-Fi signal to grab hold of potential work opportunities via Kakao Talk. (For improved relatability though, the English subtitles had been translated to read 'WhatsApp' instead of 'Kakao'.)

One of my first observations is the presence of a familiar face: Park So Dam. A stellar actress with an impressive track record, I was instantly excited for the remainder of the production upon witnessing her appearance as the daughter of the family. The son, whom possessed great resemblance to CIX's BX, was also oddly familiar, though I couldn't quite put my finger on the exact piece of work.

The tale starts out quite humourously, with the family arguing their way through incorrectly folded pizza boxes. It isn't until the family is graced with the presence of the son's friend - stony souvenir in hand - that their lives take an unexpected, debatably upward turn.
Crossing paths with and ultimately infiltrating an affluent household, the first hour showcases the quartet's deft conning capabilities. One by one, existing staff serving the family are ejected through staged traps; in turn, the family members are employed to fill these positions. The ordeal was witty and comedic, however the series of events possessed an underlying sense of anxiety that was difficult to pinpoint until the second hour rolled around.

Throughout the story, I paid little attention to the usage of stairs as a distinguishing tool of economic status. By contrast, I had been hoping that the stone souvenir would provide some sort of symbolism. It did not.
My immediate response to the gory final sequences was of distaste and confusion. I hadn't seen the need for such an extravagant escalation of events, though I must say that this concept is not foreign to regular K-Drama viewers. "The writers kind of just...gave up." was my immediate allegation.

​​Immediate afterthoughts consisted of confusion and absolute alarm at towards the vicious killings of the characters. The course had kept me engaged for majority of its run - an utter anomaly, might I declare - then cloaked in the comfort of my concert hoodie for the final fifteen minutes. Only following the review of other recaps was the ending depicted with greater clarity; notwithstanding the director's choice of portraying reality in the darkest, most pessimistic (practical) sense, the unpredictable murders were still overkill for me, especially in regards to the daughter. Park So Dam's character had shown the most compassion for the debt-ridden basement couple, with the mother in close second.

Social implications aside, I'd like to profess appreciation for the cinematography. While the filming style wasn't as creative as I would have liked, various camera angles/heights allowed the audience to grasp a better idea of the setting, further confirming the eerieness of the underground chambers and griminess of the destitute, sewage-flooded semi-basement.
​
A piece of work reflective of extreme income gaps around the world, Parasite was relatable but not particularly pivotal.

​Weekends these days are generally an extension of the regular work week, with the exceptions of errands replacing email correspondence and nonstop cooking in place of site visits. The 9-to-5 working hours hold consistent.

Sparse pockets of time are sometimes allocated towards baking projects, for the process enables creativity without fear of criticism for abandoning my post in the kitchen. Dried cranberries, raisins, and unsalted, roasted almonds had been obtained on the most recent grocery run, thus prompting the realization of Oatmeal Cookies.

An accidentally heavy handful of baking soda resulted in modest dryness, though the cookies remained suitable as a hearty breakfast item.
As an afternoon snack, it paired swell alongside the 8 Man English Pale Ale - a variety I had initially anticipated to prove as bitter as an IPA.

A quick round of cleaning took place before more errands. Oh, and hair-dying at home. For the very first time in my life.

The offer had been on the line for quite some time, but it wasn't until a certain prehistoric creature swung by to relieve me of my workload that the procedure properly materialized.
Consumed whilst awaiting the reveal of rose-tinged hair was Coffee Stout and a spice-laced cider gifted by my favourite fangirl.

Zero comments were extended towards my return to the real world with a mane of revived red. It was of no matter to me; I proceeded with my lunchtime excursions about the PATH for economical snacks, errands (yes, there is always more on the to-do list), and the Plant Positivity pop-up at Union Station.

​It's been an unusually quiet (gloomy?) time in the house thus far, and I was reminded of Chinese New Year festivities only upon observing the floral Shiseido tunnel at Hudson's Bay.

Mid-week undertakings were scheduled to take place by Eglinton West: research results for low-budget physical activity pointed in the direction of free drop-in classes at York Recreation Centre. And nearby just so happened to be Seara Bakery, a colleague recommendation for Portuguese egg tarts.

​Located in a sidewalk-less plaza near Keele and Lawrence, the bakery-café hybrid bore a great degree of similarity to SanRemo. That said, the seating area was roomier, significantly cleaner, and more pleasant overall. A double-sided laminated menu and napkin dispenser were positioned at every table; a cartoon-esque mural of the city adorned the south wall of the establishment

We took to sharing Crème Caramel as well as a single Nata - aka the primary purpose of the stopover.

Group activities are decidedly uncommon in my neck of the woods. So when a certain prehistoric creature extended an invite to a DIY sushi get-together with the promise of mahjong, I was more than thrilled to get going on the 401 early Sunday morning.

​The day prior could be summarized to outright helter-kelter: in between weekend work shifts were "grosho" runs, and in between those were intermittent preparatory procedures for gathering-ready baked goodies. Without a doubt, I was worn to the core by the end of my sixth workday, especially given that badminton and laundry were the customary terminal tasks of the day.

​Nonetheless, there was no shortage of enjoyment in presenting Chocolate Buttercrunch Cookies - made possible with the acquisition of fraktals from the Seasons Christmas Market at the table. 
Apple Pie and an impromptu Mixed Berry (with hidden marshmallows) also received astounding feedback.

After being acquainted with nigiri-wrapping and shari-tossing techniques, we cleared the table and proceeded with the next order of business: Mahjong, with a side of mild alcohol.

The rest of the group guzzled Asahi while I had my taste at MacKinnon Brothers' Red Fox Ale; it was, regrettably, bitter and not reminiscent of amber ale in the slightest.

​The Indian Roti House along Queens Quay was visited for a quiet weekday lunch, with our roti ordered online in advance for pickup.

A Mango Chicken Curry Roti - made mild (with special instructions for further mildness) - was shared amongst a party of two. Presented in an aluminium foil tin was a rectangular parcel, and within it a sweet-savoury mix of tender chicken bites and occasional strands of spinach. Its cloying properties were likely owed to canned mango concentrate, which yielded a degree of sugariness that would have paired optimally with higher notches of spice. Nonetheless, it was a highly enjoyable dish and ideally portioned for two.

The pick-up process was swift and effortless; the hair net-donning cashier was also incredibly amiable.

​With each passing year is incremental desensitization to the infamous New Year resolution buzz. Perhaps it is the coming of age, or maybe the progressively surging workload as a full-fledged human in the workforce. Our growth as mortals is somehow proportional - linearly or exponentially is for you to decide - to the daily task count that must be accomplished by day's end. And with that, we lose sight of the specifics of daily activities. A routine is adopted thoughtlessly, and time slips through our fingertips as do grains of sand on a Malibu shoreline.

As extensive as this collection of visuals may be, it merely serves to convey my early 2020 observations at a very high level.

​Java is the notorious propellant of all Monday activities, in addition to majority of weekday morning happenings. To be graced with the smoothest espresso on the planet, one heads to Pilot. A decadent Mocha and exquisite Flat White soothed our fatigued souls from the evening prior.

​Later in the afternoon was a second boost. Marked by a lunchtime walk about St. Lawrence (and prompted by the St. Lawrence Market's weekly closures) was a stopover at Balzac's. The two-part partitioned coffee shop was a cozy endeavour in the historical, parking-scarce neighbourhood: brick walls, wooden floorboards, and seedling-and-coffee-pot-embellished wallapaper contributed a certain zen-ness to the established environment.

​The clock was ticking, so we chose our items to go: a Brewed Coffee for the prehistoric creature and a Ginger Mollasses Cookie for myself. My treat was chewier than it was crunchy, and not nearly spicy enough. The prominent presence of molasses was pleasant, though the tacky texture of the flat round left much to be desired. A slight gripe was also emitted at the absence of the ginger candy centrepiece adorning the surface of every other unit in the stack. Unfortunately, the specimen had been shoved into a paper bag swifter than the blemish could be diagnosed.

​Upon the mention of Hub, I can summon forth only memories of definitive quality. And while it's been brought to my attention, on several occasions, actually, that across from platform emerged their sister location, I had yet to find a chance to visit.

Immediately before MiKi's doors was a similar parking situation to Daldongnae - an access permitting entry via right turns only - and a scarcity of spots much like Katsuya's original uptown location. The interior was, in fact, a tad tinier than the famed cutlet eatery, though adopted a similar format to Hub. With a maximum capacity of thirty seats in the forms of four- and six-seaters, raised communal tables were in absence.

​The floor layout was compact with a sushi bar that faced the dining area and washroom stalls at the back of the restaurant. Spotted within one of the two individual, gender-separated stalls was a multi-tier shelf, complete with air freshener, just like Hub.

A reservation was originally made for their opening time of 11:30 AM, however was later postponed due to collective tardiness amongst the group. Finding parking was my initial concern, but thankfully all three personal vehicles under consideration were able to be accommodated without issues.
Despite being geographically furthest, I was first to arrive and nabbed the table just short of the clock striking noon.

As I awaited the arrival of the others, FANCY played overhead; videos of orangecane's favourite septet cycled through on a small screen above, remaining consistent for the entire duration of our visit. The playlist blaring above, annoyingly persisted with more behind-the-scenes tunes, in the same manner, interrupted only by a few bursts of BLACKPINK and (G)I-DLE.

< Pictured above and below: Salmon Pressed Sushi, Tuna Pressed Sushi, Unagi Kimchi Donburi, Over the Rainbow, and Legend Dynamite >

​The group was guided through the menu, with emphasis on their tried-and-true offerings. Aburi pressed sushi and wacky Special Rolls possess unwavering appeal to first-time diners, as did the positively irresistible Unagi Kimchi Donburi (well, to the vast majority at the table anyway).

The coming of a new year has seemingly lost its meaning with each iteration. Too fatigued for subzero photography excursions amidst the masses, I've mainly taken to celebrating the national event from the comfort of my home and cable television. Last year's had been spent exporting a painfully tedious compilation captured on the East Coast, whereas this year's proved even more mundane: recovering from a potential case of food poisoning.

Maintaining their presence is orangecane's adorable sugar cookies; though the Maple Nutmeg bears didn't lack in the visual appeal category, the plain, full-body Santas were my personal fave.

New to the collectives are: Thai Tea (!!!), Peanut Butter Stout, and a scrumptious coffee-laced choco bar from a lover of stars and pigs.

2020's arrival stirred up quite a bit of noise, for it marked the landing of a new decade - a fact that raised awareness of time and space (aka AGE). ​Frankly, it's never been a habit to recap the happenings of the past 365 (and sometimes plus one) days. But sometimes, just sometimes, it's important to look back, just to see how far you've come, or how far you've retreated.