Friday, September 28, 2012

{music music music}

Photobucket it's been a fun couple of weeks around here. i think that by the time it's all said and done, i will have seen twelve separate shows in the space of 8 days. SO. MUCH. MUSIC. if you've been reading this blog for any amount of time, you know that i'm a happy camper right now.

a few of those shows don't have anything to do with this, but the canadian western music awards are in my city this weekend, and i got asked to join the social media team. which is pretty fantastic. i mean, i would've gone anyway, and i'd have taken a million pictures and tweeted and blogged about it anyway. the only thing that this changes is that i don't have to pay for anything. and you all know that frugality is right up there with live music for me. can it get any sweeter than this?
Photobucketoh AND, to muddle this post just a bit more: i wrote a wee review about a show i saw last friday that you can read by clicking HERE. {family of the year--heard of them? CLICK! they're so much fun.}

Thursday, September 27, 2012

{TOTE BAGS}

Photobucket is this getting excessive yet? {sorry} i've got tote bags now!

they're 18 bucks and shipping is FREE RIGHT NOW {just until sunday}. they would, possibly, be good for carrying around library books, or small animals {cat-sized}, or shoes. they have a smaller pocket on the inside for keys, or smaller animals {mouse-sized}, or whatever tiny miscellaneous items you need to take somewhere.

i also have to say, in capital letters, THANK YOU to everyone who's been buying up the iphone cases and laptop decals and hoodies and cards and whatnot. i used some of that money to eat last week, and eating is one of my favourite things to do. so, like, bless your cyberspacey little hearts. i mean that very sincerely.

Wednesday, September 26, 2012

{three}

Photobucket someone asked me yesterday how long i've been married for. i smiled and said, "three years, tomorrow."

at this, the guy scoffed and got that look on his face that clearly said, you're so young. three years is nothing. 

which is fine. i'm very used to that look, to people calling me a newlywed and saying, "wait'll you've been married as long as ME. THEN you'll know what's up." 

it doesn't bother me because it's true. three years isn't very long. that day in the little white church in the middle of nowhere feels like yesterday. we've got a lot of life left to live.

which is fantastic.

we talked about it last night when barclay got home from work.

i said, "three years isn't very long."
and he said, "that's for sure."


and then i looked at him and i thought about maybe both living till we're in our 90's and hanging out at a coffee shop on our 70th anniversary, me spilling my coffee all over myself, him yelling hoarsely so i can hear him, saying,
"SEVENTY YEARS ISN'T VERY LONG!"
and me hollering back, "BUT THAT'S DUTCH BLITZ NIGHT AT LIZ'S HOUSE!"

and then he'll tuck a stray piece of silver hair behind my ear and turn my hearing aid on for me. and we'll split a cheesecake, like we did on our third anniversary.

it'll be cute.
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Tuesday, September 25, 2012

{the girl}

Photobucket i am very good at some things: making a certain type of cookies and drawing paper cranes and, you know, getting into fights.

i don't know if it's my extremely confrontational nature, or my overly frowny face, but everyone seems to want to beat me up.

girls, mostly, actually.

i can think of about five separate occasions right off the top of my head. five is a lot of people trying to beat you up, even if not all at the same time. and only one of them even had a good reason. {a fantastic reason, even.}

but the point is not that.

the point is that i was at a hey ocean show friday night with some friends. i was standing about six rows back from the stage and enjoying some sick jazz flute, when i noticed a disturbance off to my left.

she was taller than me. this is usually unusual because i'm 5'8". she wore one of those black shirts with the slits in the sleeves and overly dangly silver earrings and lots of make-up and probably heels, and she was moving vigorously.

VIGOROUSLY.

both arms up, fingers snapping, head bobbing, hips frantically jerking and thrusting as though trying to keep an invisible hoola hoop from falling to her ankles. she elbowed her way through the crowd, ignoring the glares and "hey!"s from those she pushed past. once she was through, she reached back and grabbed the wrist of a smaller version of herself, pulling her roughly though the throng of people who were just trying to enjoy the show, for pete's sake.

i didn't mind her at first. i took a moment to appreciate the comical dancing and cast sympathetic glances at the girl whose space was being thoroughly and successfully invaded, but then i turned my attention back to the stage, back to ashley ball and her terrific stage presence.

unfortunately, i was clearly sending out my usual beat-me-up-please pheromones, and this girl was not oblivious to them. she zeroed in on me and made her way to my side.

lucky me.

she seemed to size me up immediately and hate me instantly. what can i say? it's a gift.

it started with some gentle hip checking. like, you know when you're playing hockey and the 300 pound gorilla on the other team wants you dead? like that.

one particularly significant check sent me flying into a guy standing on my right.

"SORRY!" i shouted at him over the music, smiling apologetically.

"NO PROBLEM!" he shot back, "I KNOW IT'S NOT YOU." he pointed at the girl and shook his head. "CRAZY, HEY?"

i nodded gratefully. crazy.

but, among those other things i mentioned earlier, i am super at holding my own in mosh pits. i am very used to being kicked in the head by crowd surfers and avoiding the dancers and, basically, holding my arm up when someone is being rowdy close by so that if they fly into me suddenly, they'll land on my arm, not on my face. self defence, you guys. polite, pleasant, self defence.

this wasn't, at all, a mosh pit so much as it was a bunch of people swaying to a slow song, but up went my left arm instinctively as i watched warily the great wall of motion out of the corner of my eye.

and so it was, friends, that the next time she flew into me, as expected, the small of her back connected with the sharp little peak that is my elbow. it could be argued, then, that it was i who started the fight, that i 'threw' the first elbow.

she spun around and glared at me--the kind of glare i usually reserve for bank robbers and kidnappers. "WATCH IT!"

i was watching it, i wanted to say. if i hadn't had my arm up, i'd have a black eye.

but i just smiled at her. "sorry." the music was loud. i turned my attention back to it.

i heard her shout to her friend, motioning towards me, "THIS GIRL! HIT HER AS HARD AS YOU CAN! MAYBE SHE'LL GO AWAY!"

i exchanged glances with bethany, who i'd come with. yikes.

it escalated pretty quickly from there. sorries and smiles are, apparently, not a universal language. she continued to dance like a lunatic, slamming against me more and more intentionally. her friend joined in. i kept my arm there, and continued to fix my attention on the stage. like playing dead during a bear attack. i hoped they'd lose interest.

they didn't.

"GIRL. GIRL." she waved a hand in front of my face after a few unacknowledged body-slams. "WHAT'S YOUR PROBLEM?"

i smiled at her, sincerely, i hoped. "no problem!" i hollered above the music. "just watching the show!"

"YOU KNOW, I CAME HERE TO DANCE. IF YOU HAVE A PROBLEM WITH THAT, YOU CAN LEAVE!"

i nodded. "no problem!" i said again.

"BECAUSE, YOU KNOW, IF YOU'RE GOING TO GET UP IN MY FACE AND STAND RIGHT WHERE I'M DANCING, OF COURSE YOU HAVE TO EXPECT TO GET HIT."

we were drawing some attention from the people around us. the guy i'd run into before touched my elbow. his girlfriend threw me a sympathetic look. they shuffled over and pulled me away from the girl. my mosh pit samaritans.

the girl took offence to this. she followed me through the crowd, standing as close to me as possible, and started whipping my face with a wall of thick, product-stiff hair. her right arm connected with my ribs. i held my hand up to cover my face just in time.

maybe that was the moment. i can't remember exactly. she spun me to face her. "EXCUSE ME. EXCUSE. ME. WHAT IS YOUR PROBLEM?"

i tried to speak calmly, while still loud enough for her to hear me over the music. "no problem! i have no problem with you. i'm just watching the show!"

"WHAT'S WITH YOU THEN? IF THERE'S NO PROBLEM? YOU'RE PUSHING ME! STOP TOUCHING ME! STOP IT!"

bethany was watching. my new couple friends were watching. everyone was watching. everyone looked bewildered. i attempted to defuse the situation: "i'm really sorry, i'm just trying to keep from getting hit. you can totally dance. i just don't want to get hit in the face."

"YOU'RE OUT ON A FRIDAY NIGHT AND YOU EXPECT EVERYONE TO JUST STAND AROUND LIKE YOU? YOU EXPECT ME NOT TO DANCE? YOU JUST COME STAND RIGHT IN FRONT OF ME AND GET ALL UP IN MY FACE AND PUSH ME AROUND?"

i was confused now. had we switched bodies?

she was heated. "LET'S GO OUTSIDE, LITTLE GIRL. LET'S DO THIS. YOU WANT ME TO TAKE YOU OUTSIDE AND MESS YOU UP? WE'LL HAVE A LITTLE 'CHAT'."

i couldn't help what happened next.

it was pure reaction, zero thought. zero control. and if you know me in real life, you can probably picture it, too.

the whole thing was ridiculous, but the thought of 'stepping outside' to fight this girl, the realization that she fully expected me to push her or hit her or whatever it is people actually do in fights hit me square in the funny bone with such force and precision that i threw my head back and laughed at the top of my lungs. as though she'd told me a joke. unfortunately, i was the only one who got it.

now she was confused. her face contorted. "ARE YOU SERIOUSLY LAUGHING AT ME RIGHT NOW? ARE YOU FOR REAL? I WILL TAKE YOU OUTSIDE AND MESS YOU UP!" she turned to bethany. "IS SHE ACTUALLY LAUGHING AT ME RIGHT NOW?"

i have one of those laughs that you can't really mistake for anything other than laughter. not even bethany could save me now. i understood my mistake, but i couldn't stop. maybe it was half hilarity, half nerves. i was shaking and laughing and shaking with laughter and i couldn't stop.

and all i could think was, i'm going to get hit right in the face right now. which is hilarious. and fantastic. i hoped the band would see. they would probably tell the story at their next venue.

the girl moved toward me. i braced myself, still giggling horribly. still shaking. i looked away, noticed that they were playing my favourite song.

"singing songs about the ocean...."

she lunged at me.

"...and every night's a lullaby..."

her...arm was...around my neck. i stiffened and stopped laughing.

"...the coastal breeze, and the salty seas..."

i tried to make eye contact with the bass player. help! dave! i felt silly for knowing his name.

"...i've never felt so far from home..."

i became aware that i was not being strangled, or punched, or beat up at all in any way. the arm was still around my shoulder though, and suddenly i felt her lips on my ear.

"chicky," she began.

chicky?

"chicky. you need to loosen up. you're so uptight. why are you so uptight like that?"

she squeezed my shoulder, pulled away slightly, looked me in the face. her armpit was too close to my mouth now. i held my breath. i would rather be punched in the face with a fist full of rings than assaulted by armpit smell.

"dance, chicky," she said. she turned to bethany. "YOUR FRIEND IS REAL UPTIGHT!" she shouted. "WHY IS SHE SO UPTIGHT LIKE THIS?"

because you smell like a men's change room, and some of my hair is stuck to the sweat on your shoulder.

back to my ear. "you need to learn how to dance. like me."

she smiled at me and let me go.

she left then. before i could get her number or thank her for her good advice.

i know this is getting long, but i just have one thing left to say.

our friendship was rocky. we didn't always get along, and we had our differences. she didn't share my sense of humour, i didn't share her love for dance. we didn't even know each others' names. but i feel like our true strength lay in our ability to be real with each other. i smelled her at her strongest, she held me even when i resisted her. it's stuff like that. the little things. the big things. the confusing times. the beautiful times.

"...jolene, jolene, jolene, jolene. but it ain't nothing but her favourite country song..."

Monday, September 24, 2012

{monday morning memory sorting}

Photobucket looking back on this weekend, i can't decipher between dreams and memories--and there were a lot of both. i'm having one of those mornings with lots of coffee and weekend brain file sorting.

having someone break into the house with a shotgun in the middle of the night...dream. {good.} almost getting beat up...friday night. not a dream. campfire, complete with surprise explosives...saturday night. definitely not a dream. getting up at 3 am for a road trip...saturday morning. not a dream. car accident...dream. 

and so on. i'm very short on sleep, so every memory has a dream-like quality to it, which makes the process a bit challenging. thank goodness for picture and video evidence.

while i'm sorting, watch this video. as per usual, you had to be there, but you weren't, so...you get the thirty second crappy cell phone sound quality experience.

it's my dear brother-in-law, scott, and a friend of ours, brett. scott is the one with the giant wet spot on his bunnyhug. don't worry, it's not sweat. trivia/name-dropping: brett is first cousins with mike tompkins, and looks kind of exactly like him. the whole music/talent thing must run in that family like a wildebeest stampede. {i've been referencing the lion king like crazy this weekend and i don't know why.}

anyway. we were hanging out in the camp chapel saturday night and the sound system was on and there were some general shenanigans and then these two got up there. i appreciate the whole beat-boxing while playing the harmonica thing. go scotty, it's your birthday.

beatboxing from Suzy Krause on Vimeo.

Friday, September 21, 2012

{archives}

sometimes, i open up my own blog page, click on the archives button, and see what i wrote exactly one year ago. you know, to check if i've grown up.


for example, this is what i wrote one year ago today:

"i saw my next-door neighbour taking a walk the other day and it was weird for me because i'd never seen her outside of her yard. i didn't know she ever left her yard. i wondered if she had been kidnapped and was just returning to her yard, frazzled and shocked at the concept of there being world outside of her yard.

but then barclay got all voice-of-reasony and assured me that our neighbour is a real human lady and needs to leave her yard sometimes. it was still weird for me, though."



two years ago, i wrote about disassembling my light fixture to make earrings out of it. {here


and three years ago tomorrow, i wrote this: 

"i got a black eye at work on friday.
dallas hit me in the face with a ball, so i, the quick thinker that i am, immediately made a big deal about it even though it didn’t hurt at all and ran to the bathroom. i came to staff meeting later on with a very bruised and swollen-looking eye and cheek, due to the fact that i just so happen to live out of my car and therefore happened to have my make-up case handy for just such occasions as these. a little eyeliner goes a long way.
he felt pretty bad, i think. i helped him to. i prodded my “swollen” eye, which appeared to be glued shut, moaning, “my wedding…my wedding is this weekend…”
ben tried to make me feel better by saying that it was a nice black eye and that he wished he had a black eye like mine. i glared at him spitefully, saying that it was not a nice black eye, that it was going to ruin my wedding pictures.
later that day i washed it off and we all laughed together, happy that my wedding wasn’t ruined and that i wasn’t really actually that much of a cry-baby.
i love love love pulling people’s legs. if i could find some job where someone just paid me to pull legs, literally or figuratively, i’d be there."



i'm going to go ahead and say i've grown up, at least some, which makes me feel both hopeful and sad. 

Thursday, September 20, 2012

{introversion}

today, you can find me here, hanging out with my friend brigitta. {she has a colourful, beautiful blog full of fun things. i highly recommend it.}

we're discussing introversion over there. come join the conversation if you feel like it...
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Wednesday, September 19, 2012

{don't panic}


cases for the new iphone5 are now available in my soc6 shop. click the picture and you're off.
{every case you'll see comes in iphone 4, 4s, and 3 as well!}

Monday, September 17, 2012

{piano teachers & piano students}

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Starting in grade two, I went across the street to the church during lunch hour every Tuesday for my piano lessons. My piano teacher's name was Maylene, and I adored her.

No, you read that wrong. You read it like, "adored." I mean, though, "adored."

Because school was for me, at best, tricky. I wasn't the prettiest or the coolest or the most athletic--I learned that right out of the gate. I wanted to be the best at something, but I wasn't the best at anything. If anything, I thought, I was the very worst.

I went to my lessons a half hour early and would sit on the steps outside the sanctuary and eat my lunch there and read a book. At 12:30, Maylene would call me in and I came, with my pink beginner books in a quilted red case that my grandma had sewn for me.

(It had my name on it in glitter glue.)

I remember the way she made me play it again if I played it wrong, and the way she knew I wasn't counting sometimes even though I said I was, and the way she could actually tell if I'd practised that week or not. I remember the way she got more excited than even I did when I finally understood something for the first time, and the way she was so happy to reward me when I finished a book or learned a hard piece - just seemed happy to see me each week. I remember how she made me feel like I was the best student she had, and I remember so looking forward to that half hour every Tuesday. I remember practising so hard because I wanted to impress her so much. I remember feeling important and loved and talented.

And I remember once coming to my piano lesson in tears, because a boy had told me that I had big ears and would never be pretty. It's funny, because I don't remember what Maylene said to me or how she handled it, but I remember leaving feeling better.

I'd actually forgotten that last one until this past year when one of my students came for his lesson, threw his backpack on the floor, slammed his elbow as hard as he could on the lower end of the piano, making a terrific minor-sounding noise, and burst into tears (school is not easy, i don't think, for anyone all of the time).

I don't remember what I said or how I handled it, but I absolutely remember, only a few minutes later, when he wiped the snot and tears off of his face and gave me the biggest smile I'd ever gotten from him.

"You gonna be ok?" I asked.

"Oh yeah," he said, beaming.

And it was just such a little moment, but suddenly I remembered my own moment like that with my piano teacher and it was like Lion King circle of life stuff, piano teacher edition. I wanted to run back home right then and give maylene a hug.

I'm teaching my first couple of piano lessons of this school year today.

I'm so ready for it. I've missed the small, strange people who come pounding up my porch steps at their appointed times, with their big personalities and little quirks and superhero backpacks. I've missed hearing about his day at school or her weekend with her grandma, his immense frustrations with a teacher at school, her awards and good marks. I've missed the kid who saves me cookies from his lunch, clenched tightly in a sweaty palm for who knows how long, melty and sticky, and excitedly watches me eat every last bit because he knows how much I love chocolate. I've missed the one who can't sit still (but tries to really, really hard), and the one who secretly makes me necklaces out of paper clips at his desk during school, and the one who wants to learn songs about six grades ahead of her level instead of this little kid music, and who learned the first six bars of Fur Elise by ear in a week just to prove to me that she could.

I love this job.
Because I love these kids.

Friday, September 14, 2012

{video scrapbook: toronto 2012}

this week i ended up in downtown toronto all by myself for a few hours on my way to the airport. it was pretty fantastic.
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a lot of people don't really seem to get the appeal of wandering around all by yourself, pretty well aimlessly, in a strange city that you've never been in before--at the very least, they would reason, you should have someone to meet, a mission, a map...? 

but this is my technique, and it is flawless: 

1) beforehand, i google one thing i know for sure i want to see. i google how, roughly, to get there from where i already am. in all honesty, i lose interest about halfway through this point and decide to figure it out when i get there. because even if i get lost on the way,  especially if i get lost on the way, i'll find something else to appreciate instead. when {or if} i find my first destination, i just wander from there and see what else i can find. on this trip, point A happened to be the cn tower, because i knew it'd be kind of easy to find and get to--considering it's one of the tallest buildings in the world and everything. from there i saw the cbc building, and from there i found chinatown, and the tiff festival, and the entertainment district, and dundas-younge square. it's like a snowball; you just have to keep moving. 

2) i keep an eye out for helpful-looking people. the thing is: strangers are not always axe-murderers. they are, 9 times out of 10, someone's mom or grandpa who would be thrilled to give you directions, and sometimes even a free subway token. you just have to smile at them. you have to be willing to talk to them. be smart about it, obviously, but don't waste time not asking for help...

3) i don't get my hopes up too high. because i suck at the planning part, i always try to remind myself that i can't be upset if i don't make it to wherever i'm aiming for. i enjoy just being in a new place completely surrounded by people i don't know. i take pictures of things that are unfamiliar. i put my earphones in and listen to bright eyes and sit on a bench and watch people walk past and give them crazy fascinating back-stories in my head. i go into every single building i can that doesn't have a sign telling me not to enter.

4) i fully take advantage of the fact that i can do whatever i want and it has no effect on anyone else. i can eat lunch at 4 in the afternoon or i can stop for food every five minutes. i can walk really really fast or i can dawdle and visit every single shop. 

5) i take a million thousand hundred trillion pictures/videos. the only part of exploring alone that i don't like is not being able to share the experience with someone else. which is, of course, why i take so many pictures. actually, i'm kind of a creep: i wear my camera around my neck and leave it recording in video mode a lot of the time. then i come home and filter through the wobbly videos, accidental shots of strangers' bellies and all, and see what i come up with. the videos are never good--i mean, really, they're mostly hands-free and filmed on a pretty basic camera--but they are enough to help me remember what i want to. i compile them this way and stick them on the internet so that i can delete all the individual video clip files and not have to worry about them taking up space on my computer.

{float on}
music by modest mouse

anyway. the whole thing made for a pretty sweet afternoon. even the flight home was magical, because watching a sun set from 30,000 feet is, you know, nice.
if you want to see more of my pictures from toronto, click right here.

Monday, September 10, 2012

{five warning signs you give yourself that you shouldn't say what you're about to say}

people's brains are very smart: we know when we shouldn't say something. but our tongues are very stupid: we say it anyway. i used to think this was a thirteen-year-old-girl thing to do, but then i realized that it's actually a people-in-general thing to do. and then i further realized that i do it too.

rats.

there is, however, a semi-solution. it's not full-proof, and it's got its holes, but it's helpful. and that's usually a good place to start. the semi-solution is called, "JUST LISTEN TO YOURSELF". because before you say something you shouldn't, you actually usually tell yourself and everyone around you that you know about it. it's like your brain is trying to reign your tongue in but your tongue is a dragon. {dragons pretty much do whatever they feel like.} however, if you learn some warning signs, it becomes so easy: as soon as you hear yourself starting a sentence with one of these five phrases, you just shut your mouth.

1) "no offence, but..."

this usually gets said right before something really offensive, which is funny, isn't it? i once had a girl say to me, "no offence, but you have really crooked teeth." and i was still offended.{!} so either that approach doesn't work, or i'm a tad oversensitive.

but how is it supposed to work? is the "no offence" supposed to cancel the actual offensive thing out? if anything, it only gets the other person's back up, ready to be offended. and, i mean, sometimes you actually have a good, loving reason for saying something that might possibly offend someone. {by all means, go to it.} but i find that the good old no offence usually prefaces flippant, unneeded criticisms.


2) "i wasn't supposed to say anything, but..."

this one's for when someone told you not to say something to someone {or anyone} but then you feel like, for whatever reason, your reason for wanting to say it trumps their reason for not wanting you to. you dig? "don't tell her i told you this, but she's thinking of moving to tibet."

it doesn't matter if it's huge dramatic gossip or boring little nothings, if you weren't supposed to say anything, you weren't supposed to say anything, so don't say anything. it's so easy.

it's like you're robbing a bank and as you're pulling out your gun, you're saying to the teller, "i know i'm not supposed to rob a bank, but..."


3) "don't tell her i told you this, but..."

i came across a good rule once about only saying things about people behind their backs that you would say to them to their faces. {and in the same tone using the same words.} so put your judgey voice away and shoosh.

besides. you probably have friends who commit crime number 2 regularly. words have passports, suitcases, and air miles.


4) "i know this probably isn't what you want to hear right now, but..."

i don't know about you, but i hear this a lot when i'm having a hard time and i'm hanging out with a friend or even someone i don't know very well and they don't know all the details but they still want to give me a touching and motivational chicken soup speech about what i need to do or think or say or how i need to react.

usually totally well meaning, i know, but did you know that when someone is sad, they don't want a motivational speech? they want you to say this: "i'm sorry. that sucks. i'm here for you." and maybe they want a chocolate bar. and maybe they want you to sing them a song. and maybe they want you to knit them a pair of cute slippers.


5) "on america's next top model this week..."

shhhhhh. you're not supposed to admit you watch that.

Friday, September 07, 2012

{poetry slam}

i have a new favourite thing.

this isn't groundbreaking; i have a new favourite thing every other minute of every other day. i stumble on new favourite things like little pieces of furniture on the way to the bathroom in the middle of the night: i can't help it. documentaries on the deepest part of the ocean. tylenol 3. dragon boating. really, really sad music. terrifically open-ended movies. sweet potatoes with brown sugar. sarasa pens. yellow nail polish. Photobucket poetry slams. that's the kick i'm on right now. have you been? in my city, they have a poetry slam on the last wednesday of every month. and it's exactly as you're picturing it: finger snaps, a small crowd of angsty hipsters in beards and saggy beanies, so many references to "obscure" authors and music and long, passionate pieces about armpit hair and our environment. {people make jokes about hipsters and stuff, but i like them. i think they're funny. aside from the whole moustache thing, which i am very over.} there are judges, and a group slam, and a winner, and an open mic at the end of the night. 
Photobucket bethany and i went the other night. we got coffees and settled on the hard cement for the two hour tournament of words. we snapped our fingers when we liked something, and whispered, "i don't get it..." to each other when we didn't get something.
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the guy who won was kind of weird, in a grab-your-chest-dramatically-when-you're-talking-about-your-broken-heart kind of way, but i'd rather watch someone like him, who was really majorly into it, than someone who went up self-consciously with a piece of foolscap and read a deadpan poem about flowers. 

there's a festival of words in the neighbouring city in october...i'm thinking i might have to make a day trip out of it and see what's up. i could listen to poetry for hours. i know: i'm so deep.

you all need to go to a poetry slam, like, tomorrow. and tell me how you liked it.

Thursday, September 06, 2012

{help! i'm a mermaid}

one of my favourite places on the internet is answers.yahoo.com. i mean, i don't come across much good advice there, but the questions are fantastic.

i came across this one yesterday, and i couldn't help but be really pumped about it. i love that there are people out there like this. i love that their initial reaction upon discovering their true identity as a mythical creature is to go to yahoo answers about it {i would probably call barbara walters or jian ghomeshi}. i love that these people are not in my immediate family.



what do you guys think? is she a mermaid? please help! i tend to agree with noname, though carey_ba... has a very, very good point.

also: if you google "i'm a real mermaid", my picture comes up on the first page of images. am i a mermaid?? please help!!!

Wednesday, September 05, 2012

{that blonde girl}

a friend texted me this picture the other day, and i thought i'd share it. besides, a few people were wondering what i was talking about a few posts back when i said i'd been "standing in a big glass box full of money with strangers gathered around me screaming, 'STUFF THE MONEY IN YOUR MOUTH!'"
i was downtown hanging out and listening to music on the plaza with some friends, when two girls in pink wigs approached me. they asked if i wanted some money and i said "sure," because that is a very good thing to say when someone asks if you want some money. but only if the inquiring person doesn't look very scary or sketchy or murderous. {and that is why i mentioned the pink wigs.}

they explained to me that i had to get into their glass box for one minute and that {fake} dollar bills would start to blow up from the floor and that they would write me a cheque equal to the amount that i grabbed.

i stood there for a second, skeptically. a few weeks ago, a girl had offered me free cirque du soleil tickets if i could double dutch successfully for 10 seconds. i'd drawn a crowd of people who'd laughed heartily at my expense and i'd almost fallen flat on my face and couldn't even last for two seconds and i'd made a complete fool of myself and hadn't gotten the tickets, and my consolation prize had been a red clown nose. it was awkward, at the very least.

but i'm over it now.

still. i don't want to be known as that blonde girl who always is doing embarrassing things on scarth street. but. i love free stuff more than i love not being known as that blonde girl who always is doing embarrassing things on scarth street.

so i signed the waiver form and jumped in the box and the fans fired up and suddenly there was just money, everywhere, like a dream. and all around the box, there were people. men in business suits and women in running shoes and teenagers holding sandwiches and kids with their pets and their parents, and everybody was looking at me, in the box, grabbing uselessly at the money, distracted by the guy in my peripheral screaming, "GET IT! GET IT! YEAHHHH! MONEY!"

but, as you can see {sort of} in the picture, it turns out that i'm kind of horrible at grabbing money out of the air. who knew? you can't really practise for this sort of thing. you don't sit in your living room over the air vent and some five dollar bills for an hour a day.

i flailed. i'd grab a bill and then it would blow away just as i reached for another. i started storing them under my chin and armpits, and then i worried that someone else had had that same idea and that i might have ones that had been under their armpits beneath my chin. gross. i turned around and around like dog chasing its tail. i sputtered as a wad of bills hit me in the face. ARMPIT MONEY. my hair got in my eyes and i couldn't see for a solid thirty seconds. it was not as bad as drooling all over myself in shoppers drug mart, but it was still, on some level, humiliating.

but i'm over it now.

anyway. i got my cheque in the mail yesterday for thirty bucks, and i think i am officially that blonde girl who always is doing embarrassing things on scarth street.

Monday, September 03, 2012

{teaching myself patience}

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i used to think that the most important part of making any kind of art--and making it well--was having massive amounts of raw talent. being born with the ability to translate what you see or feel with your fingers onto paper, or canvas, or whatever. but this week i realized it might be something else, actually. it might be patience. the willingness to sit still and try until you convey what you want to. the willingness to learn how to do something that you're not a natural at.

most of the time, i get a kick out of sitting down for five minutes and sketching something up really quickly with a thick pen and very little detail. a finished product with minimal effort. in between washing the dishes and running out the door to get groceries. something to look at and smile at and crumple up and throw away.

i am lazy; i know this about myself. i'm easily distracted and constantly needing to move on to something new. i don't use a ruler. i draw in pen because i don't feel like doing it in pencil and then going back over it. {if i make a mistake, i'll work it into the picture.} i am surprised and a little embarrassed when someone likes something i've drawn because i know it's sloppy and i know i didn't put much into it.

lately though, i'm trying to counteract my instinctual laziness.  i have been sitting down with a full french press and the short stories of f. scott fitzgerald on audio book and practising my patience. trying to notice little things and learning how to put them down on paper. trying not to rush myself and teaching my fingers not to take shortcuts. {but i still draw in pen and i still don't use a ruler. give me a break, i'm trying.}

this week, my patience project was the wallpaper in my living room. because nothing will teach you patience, artistically or otherwise, like drawing repetitious black and white flowery flourishes with a fine-tipped pen.

and nothing will make you prouder than putting some effort into something for once and having it turn out exactly the way you wanted it to.