Peace and Love My Ass

Sometime in the late 1990s NBC (I think it was NBC) did a miniseries called The '60s. Julie Stiles was one of the stars and she played a suburban teenager who gets knocked up by a guy in a band and runs away from home after her father has a shit fit about it. She ends up in Haight-Ashbury (of course) and plays the role of the hippie flower child and appropriately names her kid Rainbow. (Ok fine, Micheal Rainbow but all her fellow hippies just call him Rainbow.) At one point she and her son are homeless, she's mugged and no one will give her a dime to use the payphone. So she screams, "Peace and love, my ass! I hate this goddamn city!"

Somedays that's how I feel about Ottawa.

This is one of those days.

No I don't have a good reason for it. It's just one of those days. They happen. I had them in Montreal. I had them in Toronto. But they seem to happen more often here.

And unlike other cities I've lived in, I never seem to have days where I say "I love this goddamn city."

I'll have good days and bad days. I know a new city takes time. A friend's parent once told me that it three years for a city to really feel like your own and I believe that most of the time. However, I think Ottawa and I are going to take much longer.

There are things I appreciate about this city and there are certainly people I appreciate here, but the city as a whole I find frustrating. I don't seem to fit anywhere. I'm a square peg and the city is a round hole that I'm tired of bashing myself against.

I know I'll wake up tomorrow and continue to bash myself against it. But for today this square peg is going to sit and a corner and nurse her bruises while telling Ottawa where it can shove itself.