Wonder.

I wonder things. I wonder why the singular version of the word ‘movies’ isn’t spelled m-o-v-y. I wonder if ‘implicative’ is a real word, or if I just made it up. I wonder if the effort I go to in life will be remembered after I’m gone. Or even only in a month, or a week.

I wonder if the kids I see around the city will grow up to be icons of one sort or another. I wonder if the little boy I saw at the bus stop reading the giant book about frogs will grow up to be a scientist, or a comedian. Will he grow up to be a radio personality, or study abroad and become a dignitary of some kind?

I wonder if anyone ever thought that about me… for all the times I rode the subway as a kid, for all the new schools over all those years. Even now… I wonder if anyone wonders what I’ll make of myself.

Nicole and I got the apartment we wanted, this gorgeous little place in the Old South end of the city, just outside the downtown core area where I work, and some 5-10 minutes drive from the University of Western Ontario. We’ve now signed the lease and are making plans to move in.

The current (or, now-former) tenant has now moved out, and we’re taking the apartment (hardwood floors are owesome) as is – purple walls in the living room and hallway. I’m actually pretty interested in seeing my daughter’s reaction to the apartment the first time she sees it.

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  • About

    My name is Bobby.

    I write about random things a lot. I write a lot about random things.

    I write occasionally for Smashing Magazine and the London Community News online, and weekly for Interrobang, the student voice newspaper at Fanshawe College in London, Ontario.

    I've also been published by the Canadian University Press.
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