Frankly, Mr. Shankly, I don't give a damn

Oh Dear...

2011-02-17T16:28:00.002-05:00

Has it come down to this?

There is a, what I believe to be, mentally-ill squirrel who comes to visit my window sill every few days or so. Why do I think it is not well? Because it has patches of fur missing yet it continues to scratch itself repeatedly. Not only that, when I approach the window or lightly tap the glass, it remains there, not perturbed by my presence.

So the only visitor I have coming to my window is a patchy, balding, itchy squirrel?!

Just Cuz It's Over, Doesn't Mean It's Over

2011-02-15T13:07:00.004-05:00

Best valentine message I saw yesterday:

Instead of getting you a valentine, I am just going to ravage your body.

Scrambled.

2011-02-14T14:18:00.002-05:00

I am certain that a lot of people who are on the job hunt and are tired of hitting wall after frustrating wall of rejections has considered selling their eggs before.

Loco!

2011-01-31T22:15:00.003-05:00

Yeah, yeah, it's been a while since I've written on this blog. I migrated over to Tumblr, and heaven only knows why I decided to write a post here today. But here I am. Typing. So there.

So what's been going on since I last wrote? Well, I quit my job, took over to Europe to help out with a music festival, returned, found another part-time gig and some other projects and now I'm contemplating another move. Gah. For a dream job. Double gah. Right job, wrong city.

When I was younger, I used to pride myself of the fact that I could move every few years. And now that I've settled somewhere for more than (gasp!) two years, I'm more reluctant to pick up and go. Vacations, yes. Relocation, maybe. Like Sisyphus, who was given the eternal task of rolling a huge stone up a hill only to have it roll back down, sometimes I wonder if I'm destined to constantly re-root. Is my punishment to keep on keeping on?

Aside from that, there is a lot of other muck in my head these days. A dear friend of mine lost a relative she was estranged to, so I am trying to figure out how to provide support for her. Navigating through her grief and emotions has not been easy.

I've also been digging around my own family tree and a series of mini Pandora's boxes have been opened, threads slowly unraveling. There were many things I did not know about my family and sort of am shocked to find out. Then there are a few things I am quite pleased to hear about. Needless to say, it's been an emotional roller coaster lately, which might explain why I was compelled to write an entry.

What better way to process life's confusion than by airing out the mucky laundry online?

For more frequent and less personal posts, check out my Tumblr page.

Sunday Review

2010-10-17T16:45:00.005-04:00

I've been eating cookies like Cookie Monster lately. Half a cup of butter coupled with flour, chocolate and sugar makes life more than all right, I say. And what better way to spend a Sunday than eating cookies and reading/writing?

I also got a helmet. Finally. While I don't necessarily agree with all the propaganda helmet proponents put forth (smart cycling without a helmet is safer than stupid cycling with a helmet...duh), I figured I might as well have one for long or night rides.

The livre currently in my grubby hands is Bike Snob's fantastic book, which has me simultaneously spitting out in laughter and nodding as the book engages and informs the reader about the cycling world. An excellent read, and I highly recommend it. Not to mention the graphics and layout of the book is pretty cool. It puts me at ease like finally hitting empty, paved roads.

Ow.

2010-10-14T23:22:00.003-04:00

I had the first tumble on my bike in the city a few weeks ago. It's been a long time since I've fallen off a bicycle, probably about seven years. Ouch. I went over the handlebars when I had to brake suddenly. My front wheel locked too quickly and my back threw me forward. Fortunately I landed in a way that didn't involve me smashing my face in or losing any teeth.

I was bruised and sore for days -- similar to when you work out and burn all that lactic acid, but without any of the benefits of working out.

Luckily there was little traffic, and I was able to get myself onto the sidewalk before any cars came by.

The perception of time totally shifts when you're facing danger. I know it must have been quite the sight to see. This girl riding along in a nice coat and dress and heels only to fly forward, going over the handlebars and land on the ground, chest and arms first. I'm sure the entire thing only took seconds, but when I was going over the bars, I had time to think, "Oh, I'm going over the handlebars, and I should land like this to minimize pain." The whole thing was simultaneously quick and slow-moving.

I'd like to think that we've evolved to adjust to danger like this. Or maybe my mind is just that quick.

Either way, I'm glad to be okay.

Summa, summatime!

2010-09-05T11:06:00.003-04:00

It's shameful how long it's been since my last update. I'm not going to lie...the next update may be just as long if not longer.

The summer has been one of the best in my life. I've filled it with bicycles, taking lots of photos, hangouts with a myriad of characters ranging from the good, the bad and the ugly. Job aside, I've been swamped with outside projects that have saved my soul and given me many good things to look forward to in the fall.

Normally I feel overwhelmed in the summer simply because the number of activities and invites go up and the energy level is high. Sleep is non-existent and the pressure to constantly be doing something is too great. This summer, while I have felt stressed and overwhelmed a bit, I've also been quite happy and excited about the work I'm doing. I've had a couple projects that are near and dear to me, so I'm more than happy to sacrifice sleep and sanity.

And finally, finally, I have the opportunity to go abroad in the fall. I don't want to give too many details as the press release hasn't come out yet, but I'm helping some good folks plan a music festival in Europe. So if all falls into place, I'll be heading over in November. I figure I have to take this opportunity to do a bit of travelling and writing and simply recharging my soul and body.

It's been a great last few months and I'm learning a lot, but I'm also scared shitless. I've taken on a few new challenging roles, and I have no idea what I'm doing. Fake it until you make it, I guess.

Barista Competition

2010-08-02T12:57:00.006-04:00

Photos from the Canadian Eastern Regional Barista Competition at St. Lawrence Market

Go west.

2010-07-25T23:12:00.003-04:00

Aftermath

2010-06-27T23:54:00.004-04:00

I am so disgusted right now. Disgusted and ashamed to call myself a citizen of Canada. The events that happened this weekend during the G20 Summit in Toronto has left a pock mock on the Charter of Rights and Freedoms.

We weren't treated as citizens. The police descended onto the city about a week before, and their presence was felt. About 22,000 police from around the country came and almost $1 billion was put into security costs for this meeting of world leaders. The costs of human rights and justice was far greater as I witnessed police brutality for the first time in my life.

The police charged at people who were peacefully protesting, illegally arresting, detaining and searching innocent people. Their actions were so atrocious and it is shameful that none of our leaders or politicians have commented. It's unclear whether the police were given orders or simply acted in a manner that made them the aggressors, but either way, the police were the real bullies here. I am so angry, words cannot even begin to describe the rage I, and many of Toronto residents are feeling.

The police were the ones in black. The police were the ones in riot gear, with gas masks, shields, bullet-proof vests, batons and guns. The police were the ones who charged, the ones who stomped and kneed bare flesh, who hit people without any protection. The police were the ones rounding up journalists and detaining innocent bystanders in the rain for hours. They were the ones telling lies and acting illegally, yet I doubt that there will be any repercussions for the actions witnessed today.

How did this happen? And why are our "leaders" staying silent still?

It's been a long day, and my emotions range from shock, anger, disgust, horror and shame. The summits may be over, but the scars are going to run deep. Toronto, you may not call yourself The Good anymore. Shame, shame, shame.

Why do I only know lady babes?

2010-06-23T23:46:00.002-04:00

Let's look at the facts, shall we?

Minor earthquake. Check.

Lunar eclipse. Check.

Major protests against world leaders and incredibly wasteful summits. Check.

Tense World Cup matches. Check.

What else will the weekend hold?

I am Liz Lemon

2010-06-13T20:45:00.007-04:00

One of my besties, Julie, is away in Switzerland for two months, so we've been e-mailing back and forth. It's been nice to have someone in a different country to correspond with again.

When I was younger, I used to have pen pals from all over, and it was a joy to receive letters about every three weeks. The postmarks and stamps were in different languages, and it felt like such a privilege to have a foreign envelope delivered straight to my door with a message that was handwritten and for me only. Not only that, the stationary and stamps and envelopes were as telling about a person and their land as was the letters themselves.

So while this isn't a letter (yet), these photos are for you, Jules.

May Daze

2010-06-08T23:48:00.010-04:00

I got my first fiction rejection letter!

2010-06-08T22:30:00.000-04:00

Maybe I need to redefine my definition of babe after my hangout with Maria. I love that chica. She's just so easy-going and honest.

Me: She's a babe! (Random chit chat about a bike babe.) She's one of those who can ride in heels!

Maria: Psssh! That's nothing. Show me a person who can play baseball in heels!

Fair enough. Well said, Maria. Heels or no heels, she's one of the best!

I ride, therefore I am

2010-06-02T19:36:00.005-04:00

Yes, yes, y'all! It's Bike Month in Toronto, and there is a whole whack of goodness cruising around until June 30th.

First, let me mention a couple good organizations and events that are happening throughout the month. Start off by checking out the Toronto Cyclists Union at the Bicycle Service Station at Union Station. You can get free air and safety checks as well as all-you-need-to-know cycling information.

There's also a bunch of urban fruit harvesting events with Not Far from the Tree, which organizes a residential fruit-picking program. Bike around, pick fruit that would otherwise go to waste, share with others, enjoy!

Community Bicycle Network is holding a number of workshops for beginners and those ready to tackle more advanced projects, like wheel building.

The Igor Kenk graphic exhibition is going on at Type Books until the June 30th.

As for individual events going on this week, check it:

Bluffs, Beers and Pizza in the Park - Friday, June 4, 6:30 departure Riverdale Park East, just north of Broadview and Gerrard East
Go for a ride to the Scarborough Bluffs and scarf pizza, guzzle beer with other hot cyclists while enjoying the romantic sunset.

Also on Friday from 6:30 until 8:30 pm is Diverse Bicycle City at the Parkdale Community Centre (75 Lansdowne Ave). The new Cyclists Handbook will be launched and there'll be lots of exhibits, snacks and intercultural performances.

I've seen a number of souped up bikes, but Donald Quan's Bikrophone is by far the most melodic. It'll be on display in the lobby of 401 Richmond St. I'll definitely be going to gawk at it. Quan will also be performing live on Thursday, June 17th.

The Bike Joint is hosting a Family Treasure Hunt on Sunday. Starting at noon, you can round up the kiddies and head to 290A Harbord St. to scour the city for clues and learn about local history. Yeah!

And finally on Sunday, June 6th, head to Bike Sauce! It's Toronto's newest DIY bike repair shop. They're organizing a joy ride to the Leslie Spit and a picnic by the lighthouse! Now, THAT's a Sunday!

Happy cycling this week! Please don't rain...

What is going on?

2010-05-30T01:26:00.003-04:00

The last little while has been a bit crazy, to say the least. I'm not that superstitious usually, but the events that unfolded in the last 48 hours have me freaked out.

First of all, let me say that it was a full moon on Friday. Weird shit happens during a full moon. Maybe it's myth, maybe it's lore, but a series of events that occurred on Friday and leading up to Friday have left me well spooked. Without going into too much detail, there were just some unpleasant reminders of the past popping up, a couple of high-profile deaths as well as a shooting in my neighbourhood. Yes, a freakin' shooting. I'm still majorly wigged out by all that's transpired.

As far as I know, the victim is going to be fine, but still. The whole feeling is unsettling.

The other thing I wanted to mention is I'm lucky. At the end of the day, I've surrounded myself with good people who are supportive, amazing, talented, creative, enthusiastic and genuine.

This was reinforced when I went back to Edmonton for a visit. Not only do I have good peeps here, I have good peeps there. Despite the problems I have with Edmonton, I'm so blessed to still have incredible friends there. So, so, so blessed. So, thanks.

Plain and simple...thanks.

Dear Diary

2010-05-16T21:40:00.003-04:00

There was an interesting piece in the Globe and Mail this weekend about the demise of diary-writing in this age of Twitter and blogging.

I often talk about letters, and how they are an absolutely lovely medium for communication, but sadly, no one does it anymore. Journals and diaries are along the same lines -- even if they don't provide communication between individuals, they provide an outlet for emotions, experiences and observations that are private as well as a treasure chest of thought. To an extent, blogs offer a similar purpose, but the difference lies in the audience. Blogs are meant to be read by the public, friends and strangers alike. Diaries are for one set of eyes only. I'd say there's less hesitation nowadays to air grievances, fears and hopes publicly, but when you do, it's actually less honest.

In the article, Irving Finkel, curator at the British Museum and passionate diary collector puts it perfectly:

"Yes, there are blogs everywhere, but the blog is orientated toward everybody in the world reading it. Diaries are truthful, never corrupt, because there's no agenda. There's only one person reading."

Despite the popularity of revealing what is supposedly our innermost thoughts, I think people are still fascinated with secrets (or the illusion of secrets). Look at the popularity of Post Secret. Diaries are traditional keepers of secrets. If you can't tell your secret to anyone, you can always trust your diary.

It's a shame that diaries are going the same way as letters and handwriting. I guess as long as there are angst-y teenagers, there will still be a few diaries kicking around. Somehow Anne Frank's Blog doesn't have that same ring as Anne Frank's Diary.

BINGO!

2010-05-09T20:14:00.011-04:00

I am over TCAFfeinated! The Toronto Comic Arts Festival was this weekend at the Toronto Reference Library, and it was fun, fun, fun! I volunteered at the Broken Pencil table and got to people-watch and drool over all the amazing artwork and talent there. TCAF is one of the best literary arts festivals in the country, and this year it delivered with Daniel Clowes (eeee!!!!), Jim Woodring (eeee!!!!), James Sturn (eeee!!!!) and the Igor Kenk graphic novel not to mention a whole shit tonne of other amazing and talented local artists like Jeff Garcia, Koyama Press, Michael DeForge, Jesjit Gill and Free Drawings, Ryan Dodgson, Selena Wong, Wowee Zonk and so, so, so much more.

Today I feel as if I have a "social hangover." It was packed with so much good stuff and wonderful friends, it was overwhelming. Not to mention, I got an East Coast injection when I ran into Halifax pals, Colleen MacIsaac of Little Foible and Laura Kenins!

Lindsay at the Broken Pencil table

Some goodies I picked up

TCAF made me realize how much I love small presses and independent publishing. There's something really lovely about limited runs of books and prints of zines. It's more about producing art than business.

Oh, yeah, and the other thing that made my weekend rule? I ended up winning a good chunk of change at Bingo. Yep, Bingo. Sara's birthday party + Delta bingo = me supporting TCAF artists and getting lots of goodies to boot! Yeah!

Words...

2010-05-05T23:00:00.003-04:00

"Those three things -- autonomy, complexity, and a connection between effort and reward -- are, most people agree, the three qualities that work has to have if it is to be satisfying...Work that fulfills those three criteria is meaningful."
-Malcolm Gladwell

"Sometimes it's better to fold than to keep on playing, even with a flush of hearts."
-Hooded Fang

"How do you get God to laugh? Tell him your plans."
-John Cleese

"Sometimes in life you just have to suffer."
-Dad

*Thanks, Dad. I guess it is what it is.*

Like the perfume of a city

2010-05-01T22:37:00.013-04:00

I finally saw Helvetica. Aside from loving all the typography and graphic design talk, I loved all the shots of Germany and Switzerland and Europe injected throughout the documentary.

Anyway, it's a been a "words" kind of day for me as I spent most of it reading, writing and mulling things over. Oh, and I got this amazing typewriter. I stumbled upon a street sale near Trinity Bellwoods. I've been looking for a typewriter for months and the price was reasonable, so I bought it.

It comes with a stylish case. Half of the zipper is broken, but I still felt like a lawyer carrying it around.

18 is my favourite number

Oh, and I finished a kite today!

Here are some other random shots of slide transparencies I picked up when I was in Montreal a few months ago.
Themes de vie!

Pettson and Findus

2010-04-26T23:23:00.009-04:00

I was having dinner with Andrea last night when we started talking about cycling. (I mean, what else is new?) However, she brought up an interesting point. She was considering not biking to work anymore. Now, if you know Andrea, you'll know that she is a cyclist. She's been doing it for years, is always attentive, wears her helmet and is a careful rider.

But she also mentioned that she would not want to put herself in danger and considered the streetcar tracks a bit of a hazard and the morning commute stressful, which it is. It's ironic since one of the advantages of cycling people always tout is that it is less stressful than driving. I guess any time you're on the road, it'll feel somewhat manic. The logic behind Andrea's reasoning is that she did not want to put herself in danger. Makes sense. Most of us don't want to die or be injured.

The more interesting thing about this conversation was the fact that Andrea considered not cycling anymore. Not completely abandon cycling, but for someone whose commutes are mostly done by bicycle, this is a pretty big statement.

So it got me thinking about my own commuting habits. I ride everywhere. And on days where I can't ride, I walk. I'm lucky that my whereabouts are mostly limited to downtown, therefore easily accessible by bike/foot. I haven't taken transit in months, and I feel pretty happy about that. Yet, when I think about my not-so-immediate future on a bicycle, I blank out.

Andrea and I started talking about if we had kids and whether we would commute with them on bicycle. Andrea would not feel safe doing so, even if they were riding on a side street and said she wouldn't want them riding as commuters until they were much older. I understand the reason for that concern, and I feel pretty divided about it. The inner cyclist shouts, "Bike 4 life!" whereas the responsible mother says, "What if..."

For some reason, I've only ever envisioned myself cycling now (at this age) and maybe for another decade or so, and then again at 65 or whatever, riding along a Swedish countryside idyllically on an old Crescent with a basket full of berries and flowers, on my way home from the market with fish for my cat. I've got amnesia for those 30, 40-odd years between now and blissful retirement. I can't possibly see that far ahead in my future, and what's even stranger is I can't see myself on a bicycle during those mystery years. And that is CRAZY considering how much I have bicycles on the mind.

The really troubling thing about this crystal-ball gazing conversation is I can't seem to imagine where I'll be or what I'll be doing during those years, period. I'd like to think I'll still be on two-wheels, but who knows?

Other people's children

2010-04-24T21:33:00.014-04:00

Zombie Party

I started sewing again...

JV got a new bicycle. He named it Pumpkin. His birthday was last week, so Pumpkin gets a top tube cozy!

Thought du jour

2010-04-20T00:46:00.002-04:00

Sometimes I feel as if words are like meals. I have to eat them three times a day.

Random Questions...

2010-04-12T20:01:00.005-04:00

How do you tell someone you miss them?

More importantly, how do you tell someone you miss them and a particular situation without ever having been in that situation before? So for example, say you met someone who you thought was wonderful. You can imagine some kind of relationship with them, some kind of nest, some kind of life built together. All of this imagined within the first 5, 10 minutes of meeting them. And then the party or the gathering or whatever social event that brought you two together is over. And you never see them again. You don't get the chance to tell them about your plans, goals, ambitions, feelings. How do you tell this person you miss them without ever really knowing them? And how do you tell them without coming across as an obsessive, delusional psycho?

Or say you have a child, but you don't see this child often (read: at all). The child's other parent and you are estranged, and for reasons much to complicated to write out, you do not see the child. You do not have much of a relationship (read: at all). Yet, it is possible to feel that twinge of sadness on Mother's/Father's/Parent day. How do you say "I miss you" to someone you don't actually have a relationship with? Or rather, "I miss what I wish we had."

This question is courtesy of Chuck Klosterman, whom I love for reasons much too complicated to write out.

"Here's a question I like to ask people when I'm 5/8 drunk: Let's say you had the ability to make a very brief phone call into your own past. You are (somehow) given the opportunity to phone yourself as a teenager; in short, you will be able to communicate with the fifteen-year-old version of you. However, you will only get to talk to your former self for fifteen seconds. As such there's no way you will be able to explain who you are, where or when you're calling from, or what any of this lunacy is supposed to signify. You will only be able to give the younger version of yourself a fleeting, abstract message of unclear origin.

What would you say to yourself during these fifteen seconds?"

Random Thoughts...

2010-04-11T02:40:00.005-04:00

If cycling in the city was ever turned into a Super Mario video game, cabs would be the equivalent to Goombas.

This Boing Boing post on Ramen is responsible for making me quit a five-year hiatus on eating Ramen. Back in the day, when I was a wee one in junior high school, we would break apart the noodles and sprinkle the seasoning (MSG) onto the raw blocks of noodles and eat them as a crunchy, salty snack. Tonight, coupled with some Jameson, I had a dinner of champions. Cooked noodles, of course.

I love business cards. I've been thinking about getting my own for quite some time. Then I stumbled upon Toxel, which features some interesting business cards. Go forth and self-promote!

WOOoo!den Handlebars

2010-04-01T10:53:00.005-04:00

Ok, it's my day off, but I'm still kind of stressing over some things I should complete. As a result, I'm procrastinating. I stumbled across this Fixed Xor Broken blog, which led me to FlourescentBrown's blog that showcases some beautiful wooden handlebars he's made. Swoon!

Because the sun has been shining...

2010-03-30T20:54:00.013-04:00

...I've been taking photos

Beware of moose in the backyard

Mucking about

Self portrait

Beautiful patterns

More good things!

2010-03-27T11:34:00.003-04:00

Continuing with my list of goodies, I'd like to add:

Finding a good coffee shop in your neighbourhood

Sonic is a stone's throw from my doorstep, and I'm pretty stoked about that.

The coffee is good, the staff is friendly, there's even a bike affixed atop of the door, but what caught my eye, was the bike pump hanging by the door. A grand idea! Even better is the fact that they'll have bike tools on hand in the spring so you can fix your bike AND enjoy a good cup of java. The cafe opened in December 2009, is located on Cecil just off of Spadina and is still a bit of a hidden gem, which I'm okay with. I'm sure come spring when cyclists are out in full force and you see a fine mechanic fixing up bikes out front, it'll become the coolest kid on the block.

(Not the best quality shot in the world, but what can you do with a BlackBerry camera? I mean, really...)

Exactly what I needed...

2010-03-26T11:29:00.007-04:00

I stumbled upon this great blog, 1000 Awesome Things by Neil Pasricha, right at the height of a craptastic week. The concept is simple: list 1,000 awesome things. Anything from fat baseball players to flossing (I love flossing) to the first shower you take after not taking a shower for a long time.

Pasricha's book version is coming out in April 2010, so look out for it.

A random list of some of my own 1,000 awesome things:

-Sleeping in you own bed after being away for a while
-Crushing garlic
-Riding at 6 am and hitting all green lights
-Coming up with a story idea
-When cute strangers smile at you
-Soup
-Chair dancing at your cubicle
-Dancing while doing the dishes in your underwear
-The moment caffeine hits you
-Nervous interactions with a crush
-Buying people coffee
-Dinner parties
-Just ripe cantaloupe
-Getting film photos back from the shop
-Watering plants
-Taking vitamins
-Booking a plane ticket
-Learning German
-People with crappy taste who think they have fantastic taste
-Wearing the hood up in a hoodie

Turn and face the strain

2010-03-25T21:01:00.006-04:00

Ch-ch-changes!

I'm going through some major stuff right now, and I keep thinking about ways to stay motivated and take the necessary steps to steer me towards my goals and generally feel better. It's hard because it seems like in the past little while, the gods have been crazy and the universe has been playing pranks on me, throwing curveballs. There have been lots of dips (and occasional ups) but it's the constant lack of positive reinforcement that makes being proactive somewhat difficult.

Motivation can be defined as moving towards something or away from something. Boiled down, motivation is either moving away from fear or moving towards desire.

I've been thinking a lot about how to mobilize and focus. I usually make huge changes in my life and then spend the rest of the time getting used to the change before making the next big change. But I find as you get older, the drastic changes happen less frequently as you get more comfortable. It all comes down to comfort, the fear of not being comfortable and the desire to seek out comfort. However if we can eliminate or at least diminish that fear, then there is less anxiety.

And so a list on making changes is in order:

1) Make a cup of tea, coffee, hot chocolate and sit down.
2) Make a list. This can be of goals you want to achieve in the next week, six weeks, six months, a year. Big and small changes. Then prioritize. If you need A, B, and C to get to D, then make sure they're in order.
3) Create a timeline. Make a deadline for what you want and when you want it by because it gives you something to look forward to.
4) Give a copy of this list to a friend or tell someone you trust and respect. You need support when you're making changes. Or at least I do. I find it much easier to talk to someone about stuff in my life because then I can derive further ideas from it.
5) Go forth and do it. Of course this bit can be hazy since procrastination and a bunch of other factors get in the way. But you have to try because there's a reason why you want to make some changes anyway, right?
6) Now make a list of things that are positive in your life. It helps to be thankful and grateful for the good things because you can't really make changes if you are constantly depressed.
7) Have a laugh. Because sometimes you need to have some minor distractions. And because you gotta try and spit out some of this hot fire.

This ALWAYS makes me snort out loud. Without fail.

What are some of your tips for making changes/staying motivated?

Yes, I have thyme

2010-03-21T00:42:00.003-04:00

Are we actually as busy as we think we are? I don't think so.

The idea of being "time-poor" versus money-rich has been ingrained into us. Think about how many times you complain about not having enough hours in the day or reading lifestyle articles on how to find that work-life balance.

It's not about how many things we need to get done but about how we prioritize. We all have lists of things to do, some have fixed deadlines, others are flexible. It's a matter of putting the most urgent things at the top but also realizing that it's okay to let a few things slide if we don't happen to finish them today.

Busy people are drowning in "time debt" or at least want to appear to be. And in the case of debt (monetary, time or otherwise), I think you have to sit down and evaluate ways to manage and get out of it.

I'm trying to stop saying, "I don't have time" because in actuality, I do. Bits and pieces of it, here and there. Scott Berkun has an excellent blog post about the Cult of Busy. He writes:

"We all get the same amount of time every day. If you can’t do something it’s not about the quantity of time. It’s really about how important the task is to you. I’m sure if you were having a heart attack, you’d magically find time to go to the hospital."

If you break down how the hours in your day are spent, I suspect you'd find a few moments and chunks of time to spare. I know I do. It's like snacking. Some nutritionists emphasize snacking as opposed to eating large meals. The snacks still fill you up, but it's a slower, more steady satiation. I think it's the same with time and your tasks. It's a matter of using those bits and pieces of time wisely or to your satisfaction. I've always wanted to write a novel using small chunks of time. The sentences, paragraphs, pages, chapters all add up and the end result is the same.

The idea is similar to the Pomodoro Technique, which is designed to help with effective time management. It emphasizes doing your work in 25-minute chunks with 5-minute breaks.

I haven't tried it yet, but 25 minutes seems a manageable. Just enough to hold my attention and focus me, but not long enough to leave me feeling strained or stressed.

One last thought I'll leave you with. I love what Scott Berkun writes here:

"Time is the singular measure of life. It’s one of the few things you can not get more of. Knowing how to spend it well is possibly the most important skill you can have."

Anxiety rides a bicycle

2010-03-12T18:09:00.013-05:00

I'm nervous.

I've decided to go ahead with this personal project. It's going to be daunting. It's going to be frustrating. I'll probably cry a bit. Or a lot.

I'm going to try and build a bicycle.

There, I said it. No big deal, right? Right? Wrong. I've been thinking about doing this for a while, and it's been causing me a great deal of anxiety. I've devoted countless number of hours and mental energy fretting about it. I've even woken up from dreams in a sweaty, sweaty mess with my hair matted to my forehead.

As it stands, I've got this rusting frame that's stripped down, one rear wheel, one-half of a rear basket, parts of brakes, a rusty chain, handlebars, a chain guard and bike guts all over my storage area floor. The thought of somehow assembling all those guts into a functional bicycle scares me to no end.

But, why?! Anyone who knows me knows I adore bicycles. I spend hours ogling bicycles and cyclists. Anytime a fine bicycle goes by, I turn my head. Anytime a fine cyclist goes by, I turn my head. Yet, there's this debilitating fear that is eating away at me.

And I've finally figured out why. It's not the fear of failure. It's not fact that I'm a lady diving into a "male-dominated" realm. It's not even the jumping into the unknown. Far from it. In fact, it's the jumping into the all-too-familiar. For me, bike repair has certain connotations, certain memories and associations to a past I don't necessarily need to revisit.

Hence the anxiety. Hence the fear.

Bike repair was never my area of expertise. I simply rode the bicycles that were built for me, no questions asked. But my curiosity has finally gotten the better of me. And that curiosity eventually won the arm-wrestling match with fear. The very essence of a bicycle screams self-sufficiency, so I want to learn how the machine works.

For me, the bicycle is a symbol of freedom. No waiting around for public transportation, no overcrowding into someone else's personal space. Biking is about five times as fast as walking. The wind goes through your hair. You feel every wind gust, every rain drop. There's a connectivity to the outside world that a four-wheeled shell can never provide. You are accountable for your speed and to a certain extent, your safety. It's taking transportation into your own hands (or feet, rather).

Do you ever have moments where you know you're on the verge of something big? Like once you cannon-ball into the unknown, there's no going back. It's like you can smell some kind of change in the air. The sweet scent of familiarity yet there's the unknown is much more overpowering, intoxicating. It's subtle but strong. Maybe even dangerous. Despite initial fears and reservations, you have to find out what it is.

So I'm going to try and do it. I'm going on this ride. And hopefully I'll meet some friends along the way. Kind and patient friends. Toronto has a wonderful cycling culture complete with a number of community bicycle collectives:

*Bike Pirates on Bloor
*Bike Sauce (opening up on the east end in the spring)
*Bikechain at the University of Toronto
*Community Bicycle Network on Queen (CBN offers some great workshops)

And as a great resource, the Toronto Cyclists Union.

As well, my friend Jeremy was kind enough to lend me the Big Blue Book of Bicycle Repair. And while I was in Chicago, I picked up this little gem:

Wish me a bon voyage. I'll take photos and send a postcard when I arrive.

When I do, becomes I wish I hadn't

2010-03-10T21:25:00.013-05:00

Sometimes it's just so damn nice to get out of the city and go to another city.

All look same?!

2010-03-03T14:17:00.005-05:00

Last week I went to an "Asian"-themed party. It's fucked, I know. Despite some initial reservations, I tried to quiet that inner voice and went anyway. It was a birthday party for a girl who is half-Asian, and she decided to celebrate her Asianess by making it the theme. So up went the red lanterns, on went the Japanese pop and out came the stereotypes. Imagine my horror when I, and other Asians at the party were introduced as "resident" Asians. Fuck, is right.

I even got asked: So, can you tell other Asians apart?

And yes, it is 2010.

The thing that really got me was the fact that this party was supposed to be a lark. That somehow racism, when under the guise of a joke or being funny, is supposed to be acceptable. When did being pegged as a "resident" minority become hilarious? And that somehow, if I don't see the humour in there, that I should lighten up. It's like being rounded up and branded with a scarlet letter "A" for all to see. As if I didn't already know that I was a minority in what is supposed to be a multicultural country, a city with a "harmonious hodgepodge of religions and cultures".

I know it's human to latch onto things that distinguishes a person from another. Person A wears glasses, person B has blonde hair. It's a weird thing to have your ethnicity constantly be pointed out or be the forefront to what others see.

You'd think I'd be used to it by now. I may be used to it, but it doesn't mean it bothers me any less. Having travelled around, my ethnicity has often been on the first (and sometimes only) thing people see. Sure, it's an aspect of me but it doesn't define all of me. It would be naive to think that people do not judge others on first impressions -- a person may have a snaggletooth or a lazy eye -- but does that mean you have to point it out? As if the other person isn't already aware of it.

It's ironic since what makes me "different" doesn't even make me distinguishable from another Asian. An example: A few weeks ago, an acquaintance (I've since downgraded his status from "friend" to "acquaintance" because after a year and a half, he still did not know my name despite us having hung out several times before). He called me Sandra. My name is not Sandra. I have never been named Sandra. Sandra is the name of a friend of a friend who moved to New York. FOUR YEARS AGO. Apparently we look alike. We're both Asian. I guess this acquaintance never bothered to notice that we were TWO DIFFERENT PEOPLE. And this shit happens all the time. Even to media personalities on television.

Michael Phelps recently thought Lainey Liu of Laineygossip.com was the same girl in Scotty Lago's inappropriate medal-biting photos. So of course, the natural conclusion to jump to for Lago is to think that Lainey is part of some insane conspiracy to bring him down.

Phelps and Lago may have the muscles, but I also thought they had eyes. Eyes that could look at someone's face and distinguish differences in features, height, age from another person.

Hello, Racial Profiling. I do believe you've met Mr. Phelps and Mr. Lago. I, too, however, have had the misfortune to make your acquaintance.

P.S. I am not in either of the above photos.

Cleanliness is Godliness

2010-03-01T22:46:00.008-05:00

I've been reorganizing my desk and craft corner lately so as to maximize creativity/productivity. Thanks to Sarah (and Ikea) for helping me put up these hanging pen and marker pods.

Invisible shelves from Umbra

A gorgeous building in Montreal. Random shot

Oh, you know...a muffin hanging out in a bush. Just another day...

It's only fair to tell you, I'm absolutely cuckoo

2010-02-23T22:31:00.004-05:00

Some belated Valentine's pressies. Normally I'm not one for Valentine's Day, but I do love any occasion that involves making pressies.

A gift for the dear Nanni...

Pocky stick letter and pennies upon which to make wishes!

The delightful Chlohan sent me this mini (yet mighty) gift! The cutest little package in the world...

...opened!

I think I'm alone now...

2010-02-23T16:53:00.004-05:00

I am having trouble writing this posting. It's because I'm multi-tasking. I can't quite focus. There's a gazillion things going on. I've got multiple windows open, a dozen chats happening, Facebook, Twitter, music and TV on in the background. My attention is all over the place. How has my head not exploded yet?

I've heard that's the "Internet Generation", simultaneously overstimulated AND bored. Too much happening, everything vying for attention, yet nothing being able to hold it for long enough.

I've noticed I've become a lot more ADD since I started my current job. Demands coming from all over has spread my ability to pay attention thin. And I don't like it. There's a time and place for multi-tasking, just like there's a value to single-tasking.

Which is why it was a blessing to find this article by Mark McGuinness on meditation and creativity on 99%. So much of the creative process and writing requires a clear mind. And time to mull it over. I think it's good to have the ol' neurons firing, but they also need some down time.

McGuinness writes about the benefits of meditation. "Qualities such as focus, calmness, clarity, and insight are as important to your creative process as glamour and stimulation." So true. Yet, it's hard to quiet the mind when it's racing. It's like yoga. I like yoga. It allows me to slow down the mind, expel the day and just breathe. Just breathe. Like meditation, it gives me some clarity and insight. But it takes practice. The mind is so used to being stimulated, that we actually have to work at settling it down.

I spend quite a bit of time alone as is, but I'm not actually alone. I'm always plugged in. Phone, IM, computer, etc. And there's no stillness. Michael Sean Symonds wrote an excellent piece about stillness in Ode. He writes, "We become so obsessed in the doing something that all of a sudden we want to do everything. And all of the time, the value of doing nothing goes unrecognized...If more people spent more time doing nothing, they might become aware of their true nature."

I'd say so. I think there's a huge value in travelling alone. When you travel alone, there's a forced stillness and quiet self-reflection.

So I'm going to try an experiment. I'm going to try and tune out more often. Unplug. Unwind. And just sit. Maybe in the dark. Think. Reflect. Breathe.

Hush now. Shh...

Bjork - It's oh so quiet from Stage of the Art .net on Vimeo.

Bikurious!

2010-02-21T01:15:00.003-05:00

I stumbled upon this amazing little gem when I was in Montreal last week. Bikurious Montreal is a rad bike shop and space on Rue Amherst. Its aim is to provide a safe and comfortable space where people can come in and learn about bicycles as well as other cool initiatives. Not only that, the website is a great resource for good places to support in Montreal and upcoming events.

What struck me immediately about Bikurious was how friendly and welcoming it was. I sometimes find bike culture pretty exclusive and intimidating, so it's nice to feel comfortable asking questions in a space that won't make you feel like an idiot for asking.

There are a couple places in Toronto (Bike Pirates and Community Bicycle Network) where you can go to learn to fix up/care for your bicycle, but they don't have that same cozy feeling Bikurious gives off.

Bikurious should just open a Toronto chapter. By my house...

Time is $$$

2010-02-17T17:59:00.003-05:00

Your most important asset isn't your skills, capability, friends, social standing, money, looks or anything of that silly sort. It's your time. Time, time, time. I've been obsessed with thinking about time lately: How to manage it better, how to squeeze every possible second out of the day, what to do with the precious moments I have when I'm not working and importantly, how to juggle that work/life balance, and looking at who I spend it with. We already waste so much time working -- in some cases for people we don't even like doing tasks we loathe.

Your time is kinda like your virginity. A gift you bestow onto others. Depending on who you give your time to, it can either be an intensely enjoyable or soul-crushingly miserable experience. And you'll never get that time back, so you'd better choose wisely. Unless you like wasting it, a reckless forfeit of time, then by all means, pop that time-cherry and spend it with any random schmuck.

I hate wasting time. I'm not saying that you have to spend every moment doing something. There is a great value in relaxation and doing nothing. Just not all the time. And you're bound to spend it with some random schmuck or wish you could have chosen your companion wiser every once in a while.

The point is, most of the time you can choose how and who to spend your pockets of time with. (How many times will I say time in this post?) I'm not a television watcher, and I hate just lying about when I can be working on some kind of creative project. And I hate spending it with people who are time spoilers.

Oh yeah, I was pretty delighted to find this Make Something Cool Everyday project. Now, that's a nice way to spend your free time.

Inspiration abound

2010-02-15T22:25:00.013-05:00

I went to Montreal over the weekend. Again. Every time I go to that city, I feel so inspired. There is a wonderful, quirky art scene there, and I am always in awe of the innovative and creative things people make.

As a result, I feel inspired to create again. More than just words. It's like Montreal kick-started the creative engine, so I'm going to work on some fun projects. One of my favourite things to do is assemble packages for people. My dear friend Ian suffered a loss recently, so I am writing him a letter and gathering some things to try and cheer him up.

I also picked up these beautiful letterpress blocks with images imprinted on them. I'm not sure what era they are from, but the one of the men in the library reminds me of the 50s or 60s. I'm planning to display them like photos on my wall, since I have such high ceilings and so much wall space. I <3, <3, <3 them. There's something so terrific about a moment forever captured on a wood block.

Speaking of beauty

2010-01-31T13:12:00.002-05:00

These bikes by Kinfolk are SO GORGEOUS. So gorgeous.

My eyes are starving for beauty

2010-01-31T12:02:00.003-05:00

Rah-rah-rah ROM! Oh, I'm a fan. Maybe not a fan of the 25 bones you have to pay to get in, but coinage aside, I likes, I likes. Yesterday, Julie and I went to see the Cut/Paste: Creative Redesign exhibit at the ROM, and it was a true delight. The idea behind the exhibit was to create new design using salvaged or old products.

It never ceases to amaze me what ingenuity people are capable of. It's like innovation and ideas are endless. When we were going through the other permanent exhibits, (nevermind we didn't have time for the Bat Cave or the biology floors, wah!) the ones that looked at civilizations and history, my mouth was constantly agape. There are so many products and inventions humans create, it's so crazy to see only a small portion of them catalogued and under glass.

We were speculating what sort of stuff will be put into museums years from now that represent our modern inventions and civilization.

The answer? Probably a whole lot of plastic (one of the banes of my existence, but I'll leave that rant for another day).

And probably this:

I could...

2010-01-28T16:24:00.006-05:00

bitch about how I think this homegirl is being stupid getting surgery to look like Jessica Alba in an (almost) guaranteed futile attempt to win back her ex-boyfriend.

I could also bitch about what a douchebag her ex is by asking her to change herself to look more like SOMEONE ELSE.

I could also bitch about how Asians have to stop trying to be blonde (because more often than not, they come up with brassy, tinny results).

I could also bitch about how homegirl's pretty and fine JUST THE WAY SHE IS.

Finally, I could also bitch about how ridiculous it is that this chick is going public with her "plight" to get help funding the surgery.

But I won't. It's like I'm on racial rant duty this week. It's exhausting.

Dan Squared

2010-01-26T22:03:00.007-05:00

So, instead of working on something I'm supposed to be writing, I'm blogging about why I like this logo so much. Let me clarify: it has nothing to do with the delicious brownie that sat on top of the napkin.

Rather, I noticed what a fine logo it was and started to think about why I liked it so much.

For one, homeboy's riding a penny farthing. That's pretty hot, if you ask me, and the lines behind his back and basket lead me to believe he's speeding along like no one's biz. Off to deliver those delicious, delicious baguettes and present, no doubt. And you can bet your butt, they're probably fresh out of the oven. I'm surprised there are no lines coming from the baguettes. Although if there were, they'd probably risk being mistaken for stink lines. I digress...

Two, he's freaking delivering baguettes on a penny farthing. If homeboy hits a bump, you can rest assured, he'll be catching each and every one of those tasty ass baguettes because that's how Daniel et Daniel rolls.

Three, homeboy's got a newsboy cap on. Not only does Daniel et Daniel serve delicious foods and create fun events, their delivery people are apparently straight out of The Great Gatsby.

And finally, the font of Daniel et Daniel is sick. The squiggly lines around "et" lead me to believe that their events are droll, and Daniel and Daniel may enjoy a game of hop scotch when they're not baking bread or rolling around on their penny farthings looking smart.

We're a homely bunch.

2010-01-23T03:06:00.009-05:00

One can never truly be vegetarian AND Chinese.

Well, you can. But you can't, really.

I found myself in Markham this weekend at a lively Chinese dinner, where the concept of vegetarianism meant eating fish and vegetables cooked with beef or not eating at all.

Markham, which has a huge Chinese population, is a weird place. It's foreign in the sense that it feels like a different country, yet it's not. Imagine a peanut where the shell is Canada/Canadian culture. You crack the shell and in the interior is this Chinese core. That's what I think of when I think of Canadian suburbs such as Markham or Richmond where large numbers of Chinese people settle down. And that's pretty unique.

Anyway, back to the dinner...it's been a while since I've been in a suburb, so as we drove to the restaurant, I was filled with bewilderment, unease, curiosity and even a little dread. Suburbs, and to an extent FOB (fresh-off-boat) culture is a throwback to my past life. Needless to say, I felt a bit uncomfortable and out of my element.

Attending a Cantonese celebration is quite the production. There's always an abundance of unidentifiable foods and protocol that must be followed. Tea cups must always be full, the most prominent or oldest guest is served first, the lazy Susan is always teeming with steaming dishes, there are always bowls with hot liquid and lemon, there's the usual jovial yet loud banter that sounds like arguing to the outsider, the prerequisite (almost fist fight) over the bill, and the disgusting bathrooms. The loos at Chinese restaurants, no matter how clean or high class the restaurant is, are always disgusting. Mops, buckets, pink soap, fake flowers and paper littering the floors are a must.

It is damn near impossible to eat a strictly plant-based diet in the Chinese mind. Of course vegetarianism exists in China. Many Buddhists eat no meat, but they are far outnumbered by carnivores who enjoy tripe, chicken feet, cow tongues, shark fin and whole pigeons. And a vegetable or mushroom that was cooked in chicken broth or next to a big ol' slab of beef is considered vegetarian. "Here, you can eat this...it's a tomato!" Nevermind that I can taste the cow juices when I bite down. I used to be a pretty hardcore vegan in my younger years, but I have since mellowed out. I don't think it's necessarily a betrayal of my morals, rather I'm trying to keep a cultural flexibility. A saving of face for my host. It's either this or not eating or being a big inconvenience for your host.

Don't get me wrong, I love the vivacity of Chinese meals. Everyone is always in a good mood and boisterous, and there's this unique banter that goes on. The Chinese sense of humour is hard to explain in English. It's very quick and witty. In a sense, it feels like bull-shittery and making fun of each other, yet it's purpose is to keep the conversation and laughs going. Meals together are supposed to be light-hearted and filled with lots of laughter. So everyone jabs and jokes at dinner.

After dinner, I went to my first FOB bar. For one, it was strange to be in a place where I wasn't a visible minority. These strip-mall bars are filled with booths, games, weird bong-like beer dispensers, vending machines with toys and Chinese snacks. When we sat down and ordered beer, they gave us this dice game. It's meant to be a drinking game, and of course it involves math. How stereotypical...Asians can't let go of their math even when drinking!

My big Markham outing was like reverse culture shock in many ways. Like I said, I haven't been in a suburb in a long time, and it's been even longer since I've been completely surrounded by Chinese people. My life in downtown Toronto is pretty different, and as a CBC (Canadian-born Chinese person), I've been accused of being white-washed or a banana (white on the inside, yellow on the outside), but I don't think that's fair. My work, schooling and interests have me running in mainly western (or at least non-homogeneous) and diverse circles, so I can't help it if I don't necessarily identify with FOB culture.

Sometimes it's difficult to balance who you want to be vs. what others expect you to be. Because I'm Asian, people look at me and have certain expectations of what I'm like. Chinese people expect me to be more Chinese. Non-Chinese people expect me to be more Chinese but in a different way.

Maybe it's about picking and choosing, when you straddle two cultures. I suck at math and don't know much about Manga, but I like rice and drinking warm water. I can pick up things with chopsticks, but I don't know how to play the piano. I can't read Chinese, but Chinese New Year's is one of my favourite times of the year.

I guess there's not much you can do, other than be true to yourself. You can't please everyone, so you might as well please yourself.

Fotos, Motos!

2010-01-18T23:24:00.004-05:00

Tell me what you want, what you really, really want

2010-01-16T18:35:00.009-05:00

I love hanging out with Pras. He's tops and a smarty pants. We came up with some (very general) conclusions over festive beers last night.

All women really want is to be appreciated.

All men really want (aside from the obvious) is to have a lady/fella stand by him and indulge in his various peccadillos.

Keep in mind these are gross generalizations and obviously there are exceptions, but I'd say it sums up my life and the peeps in it.

Offensive Offense

2010-01-15T13:46:00.004-05:00

I may have to start using 'Avatar' as a gauge of people. If you liked it, then no dice! We probably can't be friends. I hated it. Yes, the special effects were spectacular, but does that really excuse its racist and colonialist undertones? Not to mention cliched story line. Who's seen 'Fern Gully'? Anyone? Hands up? And 'Avatar' is done will less charm.

Yeah, the 3-D and new camera/computer techniques are cool. But does it make up for the shitty acting, atrocious writing and ridiculous Papyrus font? Really??? So long as a movie looks good, I guess it doesn't matter how offensive it is because 'Avatar' is turning into a box office behemoth And now there's word of an 'Avatar' trilogy?! Someone pull that USB hair braid out of the beast and put me out of my misery!

OMG

2010-01-11T21:59:00.006-05:00

I saw these wooden toys by Josh Finkle and wanted to die. Extinct style, like the animals they're modelled after. Everything about these toys is wonderful---from the wood to the way they stand to the packaging to their cute little paunches and curved snouts. Simply perfect. And I love wooden toys. There's an elegance about wooden toys that screams quality and class. Wooden toys were lovingly made to last.

The other thing that has me squealing these days is The World's Smallest Postal Service. For a mere 8 buckaroos (U.S.), you can get a mini handwritten letter, mini envelope complete with a mini wax seal and a magnifying glass to read the letter. Now, everyone join me in a collective squeal alternating with "aww!!!"
And finally, not squeal-worthy, perhaps more like chortling or snorting or even the occasional gag, this gem of a blog: Nic Cage as Everyone

I am both laughing and barfing and shuddering at the same time. For realz.

Num8er5 G4me

2010-01-08T18:40:00.004-05:00

Two posts in one day? I must be working late in the office...

2.11 -- Amount spent on grapes and tomatoes
4169672600 -- Phone number I called
49 -- Minutes it took to walk to work today
-9 -- Current temperature in Celsius outside
19 -- Minutes in the shower
7 -- Bars of Ritter Sport Erdbeer Joghurt Inga brought back from Germany
91 -- House number of the address I'm going to later
2 -- People I saw pick their nose today
177 -- Days until my birthday
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
My day in numbers. Priceless?

You know what else is priceless? The fact that I found this Radiolab podcast on numbers. Take a listen!

Words of wisdom

2010-01-08T11:27:00.003-05:00

I was reading Ellen Lupton's "Thinking With Type" book. And even though it's a book mainly aimed at designers and typographers, she included some free advice at the back of the book that translates well to the writer as well as life in general. Some of my favourites include:

Say more, write less.

Spend more, buy less. (Cheap stuff is usually cheap because of how it's made, what it's made of and who made it. Buy better quality good, less often.)

May your thoughts be deep and your wounds be shallow.

Make the shoe fit, not the foot.

It is easier to talk than to listen.

Build the discourse. (She's talking about design being social and living in society, but this can cross over to writers and any kind of creative community such as artists, musicians, magicians, spoken word performers, etc. Essentially, join/build a community of like-minded folks who are committed to the same thing you are and to share that with the world whenever possible.)

Go forth and reproduce. (You can take this any which way you want. Be it sexy times or reproduce creativity...)

Won't you join me in some cubicle/chair dancing?

2010-01-07T16:41:00.002-05:00

Some oldies but goodies:

I love the lyrics. How do you go wrong with lines like, "Without 40 ounces of social skills, I'm just an ass in the crack of humanity"?

And of course, The Zombies. I sing this song to myself all the time.

And finally, these two have been on my roster lately. It aids in making that 3 pm hump go by faster:

Mole-y Mole-y Moley

2010-01-05T15:00:00.003-05:00

Adrian Mole is the best. I started reading the books years ago, and I still hope someday I'll be able to describe cucumber sandwiches as "poncey" and my tea as "weak as a sailor's arsehole."

Thank-you, Sue Townsend!

January 3rd Thought of the Day

2010-01-03T17:11:00.001-05:00

Sucking it up, sucks.

Doesn't matter if you're black or white...

2010-01-02T19:58:00.010-05:00

Other uses for TVs

Nourishment

Soon-to-be Big Papa

Watch out for this Peeping Tom

Faces in places

Kalimba

Kalimba in action

Post-apocalyptic hope

Setting sail on the Bluenose

2009-12-28T22:24:00.004-05:00

What up, 2009? Why have you been the banner year for the grim reaper? Holy celeb deaths galore: Natasha Richardson, Ed McMahon, David Carradine, Bea Arthur, Estelle Getty, Farrah Fawcett, Patrick Swayze, Michael Jackson and Brittany Murphy. Need I go on? Compared to 2008's death list (read: Heath Ledger) you'd think Mr. Reaper was one of the few companies not affected by the recession and had more hired help.

On a personal level, 2009 was a rough year for some dear friendlies of mine, filled with heartache, heart break, mistakes and outtakes. And I had such high hopes for 2009. The motto was supposed to be, "2009: looking fine." Instead it turned into, "2009: pass the wine."

Well, I suppose you know what "they" say. With so much death, there's bound to be lots of rebirth. Here's to hoping that the birth canal of 2010 will be a relatively painless and colourful one.

Things are already starting to look up as 2009 winds down and 2010 is lacing up its runners, getting ready to receive the baton.

There's something in the air. And it smells like cinnamon hearts. I have friends who are getting lovey dovey, going back to school, getting married, buying property and moving cities and having babies. Big changes are coming. Ginormous things are happening. Get ready.

And yo, 2010? Listen up, kiddo -- I hope you don't mind that Matt has so fondly dubbed you "The Dime" -- but I'd really appreciate if you could send some love to my friends who need it. Just a little wink or a high five should do it, maybe a fist or elbow bump for the H1N1-wary. Thanks. We good. We solid.

Smoke Signals

2009-12-08T14:17:00.005-05:00

I was recently in Halifax, working on a project with my dearest friend, Carey.

The end result was this lovely book on correspondence between our two fair cities, Toronto and Halifax. We called the project Smoke Signals. We sold the book and a correspondence package as well as other crafts at the Halifax Crafters fair, which was a lot of fun and really well-attended. Thanks for the support, Halifax!

I'm someone who has moved around a lot in my adult life, and I spend a lot of time thinking about cities, comparing them and reflecting upon my various lives and personas I adopt in each city. I once had a friend say he didn't see any difference between cities, that all big cities were the same. I completely disagree, since cities are like people. They each have their own unique vibe; have different personalities. The purpose of this project was to try and capture some of that. Things that we loved (and hated) about our cities.

We also started a website for the project, which you can find here. If you'd like to order a copy of the book, you can visit the website or email smoke.signals.please@gmail.com

You're the Charlie Browniest!

2009-11-24T14:03:00.000-05:00

Some random thoughts and observations from today:

There should be a reality TV show about a lesbian couple called "Jan and Kate".

********

When I lived at my old house, I used to bike through Trinity Bellwoods every morning. There were always a few Asian ladies who did their morning exercises in the park. Tai chi, stretching, but one particular activity I never got: walking backwards. I have no idea what the health benefits are, but ok.

Since I've moved I have a new parkette I bike through. Today there was an older Asian lady walking backwards through it. She was sporting DC skate shoes with fat turquoise laces, no less! Older Asian ladies are FIERCE...

********

A "noirette" is someone who has black hair. It sounds better than "blackhead".

Don't wear earrings with prescription glasses

2009-11-23T13:47:00.002-05:00

For some reason, I've been dispensing a lot of advice lately. In the past few months friends have been coming to me with their woes, and dare I toot my own horn, I've been dishing out sage advice.

Just call me Ann friggin' Landers. Or maybe more accurately, Lucy van Pelt since I probably look more like her and have a similar cynical disposition.

Not surprisingly, most of the problems deal with affairs of the heart, and since I've been a resident of Singlesville for a while---I roll with the mayor and the police chief---I'm able to give unbiased, straight-forward advice that isn't clouded by lovey dovey-ness. See, I'm actually logical and rational as hell, so I'll tell you like it is. No holding your hand on your way to your first day of kindergarten. Take the bus like the rest of us chumps.

At the risk of jinxing it, I've been a zen master lately, the coolest cucumber in the crisper, chilled out and blissed out beyond (even my) belief.

This clear-headed state probably helps in giving good, rational advice. Everything ain't no thang. There really are few things in life one can't recover from (to a certain degree) given enough time, so why sweat it?

Who knows how long this calm stage will last? Maybe I am in the eye of the storm and shit's going to hit the fan soon. But until then I am just gonna continue playing Yoda and sip on this G and T.

Random thought: you can tell a lot about a person through their hands. It's like shoes. A person's personal style is reflected through their shoewear. You can tell what a person's hygiene and hobbies are like through their hands.

Are the hands rough? Are their nails dirty? Do they have long nails? Hands are like the face sans make-up. There's the same exposure to the elements. We don't usually cover up our hands except when it's really cold. So they're pretty telling of our lifestyle.

I really like looking at men's hands. Sometimes you can tell what someone's body looks like just by looking at the bone structure of their hands.

Hands! Advice! Monday!

Be the person your dog thinks you are.

2009-11-17T21:54:00.008-05:00

Sometimes I think people suffer bad days collectively. Today was one of them. A lousy day. It was one where people just felt mean. Luckily though, I had a good end to a bad day. My friend Paul brought up a good point. He blames the collective bad mood on the Leonid meteor shower, and from my wholly un-scientific research (namely an informal survey of my friends) we all either had rotten days yesterday or today.

Methinks cosmic events wreck havoc on our petty human lives. It's like the full moon. It's called "lunacy" for a reason. Jails are fuller, there are more accidents, murders and crimes, and people are generally nuttier when it's a full moon. We can't help it. The gravitational pull messes with us.

And to think this was the week I decided to give up coffee.

AT least The Rural Alberta Advantage's acoustic set at Soundscapes helped the day end on a better note. That band has a special place in my heart.

What up, delicious cat...!

2009-11-16T23:43:00.000-05:00

I thought of two new terms today that really should be widely circulated in the English slang.

1) Wordist: an artist whose medium is words. Ok, essentially a writer, maybe one who is more floral and ornate in their writing. Or maybe one who considers themselves post-post-modern.

2) Love death: the non-existance of a love life, perhaps the ceasing of any kind of love activity. As in "I don't have a love life. I am going through a love death." A mourning, a void of love in one's existance.

poor but sexy

2009-11-14T14:03:00.000-05:00

One of my favourite things to do is to take a bus or train somewhere. There's a certain calm and time for quiet reflection when you're sitting on a bus or train moving through city or countryside.

I love the physical act of moving from A to B. Right now I'm on a bus travelling from Montreal to Toronto, and it's raining outside.The window is blurry, the sky is grey and streams of water are racing each other towards the finish line at the bottom of the window ledge.

I came to Montreal for the weekend to meet up with Carey. She is in Halifax and Montreal is the halfway point for us. We are working on a collaborative art/craft project on the idea of correspondance.we left with some more definitive objectives and tasks to tackle before the show in three weeks, but I think Montreal has done wonders for motivating and inspiring me.

The city is bilingual and ther is something to be said about it's dual personality. The bilingual thing provides this mania that drives the city in a highly creative manner. Like Berlin, Montreal is broke, yet has a high concentration of artists. Certainly creativity and lack of income can go hand-in-hand, and that may be the case in beautiful Montreal. The creative energy oozing from this city seems maddening sometimes.

My hostess brought up an interesting point last night at dinner. She is a social worker and decided to move to Montreal because there is also a high concentration of mental illness in the city. She mentioned the idea os a correlation between artists and mental illness. "An artist is someone who does things differently, and someone who is suffering from mental illness is someone who can't do things in a 'normal' way."

Simple words but there's a certain truth to it. That line between insanity and creativity can be a thin one.

I've been in Toronto for a while, and I think I've fallen into a bit of a routine. There is a lot going on in this city in terms of music and the arts, but I find there's an underlying business aspect to it. It's not necessarily negative; there's simply less of a division between commerce and art. Or at least the partnership between the two is much more evident.

The mayor of Berlin once said the city is "poor but sexy." It's an interesting sentiment. At what point do you leave that behind? And at what point do you return to it?

Survivor

2009-11-11T14:48:00.005-05:00

These are things that have been sustaining me lately. Be they nourishment for the body or the soul, I'm glad to have had these things in my life to distract, inspire, influence, entertain and supplement me.

The Dirty Projectors
Elfin Saddle
Faces in Places
Soup
Radio Dada (Thanks to Chris DeWolf for this Maisonneuve article that brought my attention to the station in the first place)
Montreal
KevJumba
tUnE-YaRdS
Lula
Neon
This American Life
RadioLab
Finn Crisp and hummus
tokyomango

And on a side note:
Holy shitballs. I love this.

Kebler's tree was a sweatshop

2009-10-29T23:36:00.004-04:00

Normally I hate Halloween. Now, friends, you must be thinking: "What kind of a Scrooge Mc-Jack-o-lantern are you?" To which, I reply, "Boo-humbug!"

Yes, I hate Halloween. There's always so much pressure to come up with a "good" costume and now you can sexify any costume. Lobster? How about a sexy lobster? Piece of sushi? Let's bring sexy back!

Well, I say no. If I had it my way, I'd be this for Halloween. Or this brilliant piece of paper mache art.

Alas, my construction skills are subpar. More importantly, my time-management skills are poor. My sewing skills aren't bad, so I've resorted to being a garden gnome. I got a green apron, a flower, made a pointy hat, a mushroom and a beard (the pattern I found here) et voila!

All I need is a pipe and a jaunty idiosyncrasy, and I'm set!

Guess who's back? Slim Shady's back.

2009-10-27T15:57:00.008-04:00

I was kind of afraid to log into Blogger since it's been a while since I've written. I go through these periods where I'm super keen to update a lot, and then I go through sloth moments where motivation is about as rare as the albino squirrel that inhabits Trinity Bellwoods.

So an update of my life is in order.

Act I: I moved house. I went from a lovely little Portugese-style maison to what I've fondly dubbed, "The Babe Castle."

This house is huge. I'm talking monolith. The ceiling is high up, the walls are never-ending and I have to stand on stools to reach the cupboards. I'm like Alice in Wonderland. Going from one place where everything was small and compact to a ginormous house. Hence, the "Castle" bit. The other part? Well, I happen to live with babes. Statuesque gods. Both my roommates, who are a couple, are babes. They're fun and do interesting things and are fun and interesting to look at. Babes.

And I'm the elfin jester.

I reside in The Babe Castle, and it is glorious. Best thing is, it's in an awesome location---I like to think of it as the food mecca of the city---and the rent is more than reasonable. Oh, and there's a washer and dryer in our house, so there really is no reason to ever leave. Except maybe to gorge myself on all the food around.

Act II: Achey, break-y heart attack. Without going too much into detail, someone who was important to me, let me down. Again. This wasn't the first time.

Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me. Fool me thrice? Never. Well, maybe. I am a sucka like that.

At least you left behind your rolling papers and a CD. Ha. I win? Petty yes, but you gotta pick your battles, right? Um...

Act III: I went to Montreal. Not a big deal. Not the first time I've been. Not the most exciting city to visit.

But allow me to wax poetic about Belle Montreal for a second here. It's been a while since I've gotten out of this city, so it was nice to hop on the train and go. (Thank you, Via Rail!)

Montreal is belle. It's charming with its rolling hills, houses with spiral staircases, delicious pain du chocolats, bike lanes that actually make sense, charming vendors at Jean Talon market, especially you, Mr. Scar-under-the-eye-selling-purple-cauliflower (this is all fiction, of course. Not at all based on reality), stylish residents and cheap rent.

The other thing I love about Montreal (and travelling in general) is its randomness. I somehow found myself at some mini rave/party/horrible electronic music shindig and ran into two people from my past. Those two weren't connected in any way, but this freaky deaky shit seems to happen to me a lot. Especially on the road. "Beaver" I met about a year and half ago in the Newf, and Heather I went to junior high with in Alberta. Go figure.

Epilogue: Happy ending avec Prince Charming, a bicycle and an east coast? Or tragic suicide involving both poison and hari kari and (dis)honour?

Only time will tell. This play is still being written.

Life is short.

2009-09-01T20:40:00.007-04:00

Looking through old posts, it's hard to believe I haven't once written about biking. It's surprising considering how integral it is to my life. I bike everyday; it's my main source of transportation, and in a lot of ways a source of happiness. If I go a day without biking, I feel cranky. I refuse to walk anywhere more than two blocks, and I even shiver through early winter just so I can keep riding and taking avoid public transportation.

So, needless to say, I felt pretty upset and shaken when I heard about an altercation between a cyclist and Ontario's former attorney general, Michael Bryant that ended in the cyclist's death. I guess heated words were exchanged, the cyclist held onto Bryant's car, was dragged along Bloor Street and eventually died of severe head injuries. And Bryant? He was charged with negligence causing death and operating a motor vehicle causing death.

While there were plenty of witnesses, the police have kept most of the details under wraps, and it's hard to piece together exactly what happened. What led the cyclist and Bryant to have angry words, and why did the cyclist end up holding onto Bryant's car? Reports say that Bryant was arrested at a nearby hotel and that he called 9-1-1, but why didn't he stay in the area where the accident occurred? As is often the case with a tragic death, there are so many unanswered questions.

It's hard for me to even try and understand what happened. As a cyclist, I'm well aware of the dangers of cycling in the city---I almost got doored twice today and almost skidded off my bike once. And I know sometimes it gets fierce between a driver and a cyclist, both shouting curses at each other that seem justified, but I can't even imagine why the cyclist would hold onto Bryant's car. I certainly don't understand how some drivers can feel justified by their reckless behaviour or lack of regard for sharing the road with cyclists. I most definitely do not understand how people can let their emotions run the show especially when they get behind the wheel. Sadly when it's car vs. cyclist, it's the cyclist that pays dearly.

Reports say the victim was Darcy Allen Sheppard, a 33-year-old bike messenger in Toronto. The biking community in Toronto is large but also tightly knit, and I can't help but feel a horrible sense of loss even though I didn't know Sheppard personally. His death was just so senseless and preventable.

At work I have to moderate comments on news articles, and I am absolutely appalled at some of the things people have said. No matter how angry or stupid a cyclist has acted, he doesn't deserve death. I mean, come on. The sad thing is, no one saw this whole thing coming. Bryant probably didn't wake up that morning thinking he'd be involved in an accident and arrested. The even sadder thing is Sheppard probably awoke that morning, not thinking it was going to be his last.

There's going to be a memorial gathering and ride for Sheppard tomorrow at 5 pm at Bloor and Bay.

Soup's on

2009-08-31T21:51:00.003-04:00

I've been making a lot of soup lately. Yesterday was butternut squash, apple, yam curry soup. Today is carrot-ginger soup. And tomorrow? Well, I haven't thought about it that far ahead yet. Maybe a nice gazpacho or a corn chowder.

My coworker likes my soup; he laps it up and is complimentary in the most hyperbolic yet pleasant way, which is so fantastic I could die. It's always lovely when someone raves about your cooking. It does wonders for the ego. It's the culinary equivalent of getting winked at.

All this soup-making reminded me of someone I once knew. Matt Smith hated soup. I didn't think it was possible for someone to hate soup, but he did. He also only drank chocolate soy milk and root beer. Go figure. I was never really that close to Matt, since he lived in Vancouver and I was in Edmonton, but I was always fond of him. Ok, fine, I had a massive crush for years. One might even be so bold as to suggest borderline unhealthy. But those are just details. Anyway, we'd keep in touch sporadically, going through phases where we were e-mailing every few days and alternating with long stretches of non-communication. It's been a really long time since I last heard from him, and I hadn't really thought much about him unless something popped up in my day that reminded me of a conversation we once had or something he may have expressed disdain for. But generally, out of sight, out of mind.

It's funny how in our entire lifetime we come into contact with so many people, yet we really only keep in touch with a select number. Family, close friends, maybe physicians or dentists are constants in our lives. Depending on the period in our lives, we think we'll be forever in contact with some people, only to meet them again 5, 10, 15, 20 years down the line as total strangers. They may trigger a sort of deja vu-esque nostalgia. I find it so odd to run into someone I was once so close to only to be met with a feeble handshake and a weak smile or indifferent wave of the hand. And the thing is, each phase in our lives seems to come with different packets of people. I think it's safe to say not a lot of us are still friends with people we knew in elementary, junior high, high school or even university. Or at least not with every friend from a past era.

I've done more than my fair share of moving around, and despite living in a city for years and promises, when I move away, over time I only end up keeping in touch with a small number of people. I used to pride myself on being really good at keeping in touch. At some point, I kind of stopped making all the effort. All the energy and motivation I'd have to devote to keeping in touch with someone simply became too much. Not to mention some people aren't even worth all that effort.

*A side note about randomness: I've had a number of coincidences in my life where I'd be travelling and meet someone who is a friend of a friend from back home. It used to blow my mind every time this happened, but eventually I got used to it and realized two things:
1) Canada is not that big. Once you subtract all the babies and older people, then further subtract those that don't share common interests, the actual number in my peer group isn't that large. Plus everyone knows everyone else, especially with the social circle I run in. A side of Six degrees of Kevin Bacon, anyone?

2) After listening to Radiolab's podcast on stochasticity
(really just a "smarty-pants word for randomness") I realized it's just a numbers game. What we think of as coincidence, is really just probability and partly chance.

Anyway, back to Nostalgia Lane, it's always so bittersweet to think about people we've lost touch with. No doubt we share some good, nay, great memories, but there's also that untold story of why we drifted. And what do you say when you want to rekindle the fire of communication, when you want to reach out and retouch someone?

I guess you say, "Hi, so-and-so. It's me. Listen, it's been a while. What's been going on in your life? Oh, me? Not much. I'm just making this big pot of soup..."

The doctor is IN

2009-08-26T21:04:00.008-04:00

Dear You,

I love letters. I love writing them, I love receiving them. In fact, I make a killer care package. If I knew you, and you were going away, you'd be damned lucky to have me send you packets of brilliance and heart. But I don't know you. Or do I? Wait, now I'm confused. Moving along...

I could go on and on, waxing poetic about how great letters are. But I won't. There are enough people singing the mighty letter's praises. But I will say this. I was absolutely tickled pink when I saw this video about a Cuban writer who makes a living writing love letters. That sounds like my dream job. Nay, it is my dream job. It's like writing song lyrics and fiction. Let me be the Cyrano de Bergerac in your lovelorn, tongue-tied world. Unrequited love? I'd be more than happy to provide the words to win over your beloved.

So that video got me thinking. Why not set up a love-letter-writing booth at my next craft show? For two bucks, I'll write a couple paragraphs about amour that you can send along to enchant and delight your babycakes. Plus, it'll be handwritten and on an actual piece of paper. None of this electronic love. Hell, I'll even put on some lipstick and seal the letter with an imprint of a kiss. Go big or go home, right? In this case to the home of your dearest.

If my letter booth fails to take off, there's always the Advice Booth. Take a number from "that round-headed kid" Charlie Brown and his psychiatrist Lucy van Pelt. Only with inflation nowadays, psychiatric advice costs more than 25 cents. You tell me your problems, I tell you how to solve your problems. Or at least what I really think.

I guess if all else fails, I'll have to fall back on crafts. I've been making these wooden greeting cards lately:

And some fuzzy pins:

And magnets:

Love,
Me

P.S. This is not a shameless plug to go to zinedream II. I repeat, NOT a shameless plug.

She's got a gold tooth, you know she's hardcore...

2009-07-29T19:57:00.004-04:00

Well, at least I'm not preggers. I went to the dentist the other day and received some bad news. Ouch. Both figuratively and literally. Turns out I'm a grinder. Not of the moneymaker-shaking, cutting the rug, Beyonce-ready-for-my-jelly kind. I'm a teeth grinder. And it's costing me thousands. Apparently my teeth are so worn down, I'm cracking crowns and chipping fillings.

I had no idea. I didn't think I ground my teeth in my sleep. Maybe a little snoring, the occasional flail, but grinding? Who would have thought I had such power in my jaw? According to the dentist, our teeth are meant to break through bones. Huh. Put that in your pipe and smoke it, hardcore vegans who say humans weren't meant to eat meat. Looks like our jaws are indeed the jaws of life, ready to take a chomp out of a mastodon.

All the dental work I'm going to need done is costing me coin I don't have. Enter the parental units. I had to resort to the phone call of shame. I'm lucky I can turn to them for such emergencies, but the call was not without the "tut, tut" and "tsk, tsk" and dodging the "why do you grind? can't you stop?" questions.

I won't disclose the full amount. I can't even bring myself to whisper it to friends without hyperventilating. Let's just say someone once told me I could get a house in Newfoundland for this amount. Deep breaths...

I've always had bad luck with my teeth. Before you accuse me of scarfing down bags of candy and sucking down bottles of cola or fiercely chewing gum like Violet Beauregarde, hear me out. I haven't had candy in ages, nor do I drink soft drinks. I'll chew the occasional piece of gum after a garlic-y meal. So what gives? The positioning of my teeth and jaw is what. Maybe stress. I tend to clench when I'm stressed out. But this is after years and years of damage. Years! Frak.

Like I said, at least I'm not pregnant. Worrying about baby teeth and broken adult teeth just might make me crack. Someone get me a grill.

Three Random Thoughts

2009-07-18T17:03:00.004-04:00

1) This is tragic. Turns out the animal kingdom is just as fickle as we are. It's the salacious nature of things. The gay penguin couple at the San Francisco zoo have split up. Wah. One Mr. Harry left one Mr. Pepper and shacked up with a widowed penguin named Linda. I didn't think it was possible for penguins to be home wreckers or bisexual for that matter. Or cunning. One bird curator said Linda's deceased partner was a leader of sorts in that penguin colony. Looks like Harry recognized an opportunity when he saw one. Poor scorned Pepper.

2) More is more. I was talking to Chloe about what makes an outfit stylish, and the conclusion we came to was layers. Wearing layers and having details are key. And jewelry. Indulge me for a second as I try and make sense of this. There's a reason why Italians always look so damn fine. They're dressed to the nines in full suits even when it's sweltering out. What's that saying? Oh yeah. No pain, no gain. You can always tell a tourist in Italy. They're the ones in shorts and sandals.

I've always loved fall because that's when people start covering up again and start wearing stylish jackets and boots and shoes and hats and scarves, oh my! And the beards start to appear again. Gotta love those beards.

3) Frig, it's begun. Mom's started hounding me about settling down. I have a feeling every phone conversation from now on is going to end like this:

Mom: You know you can start dating now, right?

Me: Um, yeaaaaaaaaah.

Mom: It's time to start thinking about dating seriously.

Me: (grinding my teeth) Mm-hmm.

Mom: Being single is one thing, but when you get older, it's tough to be on your own.

Me: (teeth still grinding) Uh-huh

Mom: Bernie's dad has been asking about how you're doing. You know, he knows some nice boys in the city.

Me: (teeth still grinding) Oh god. Oh god. Oh god.Bernie's dad needs to mind his own business and go *&(%@()*&*&%#) himself.

Mom: Bernie's dad's best friend has three sons and none of them are married. They might be a good match.

Me: (teeth still grinding) Mm-hmm.

Mom: Have you been going to church? You should really go to church.

Fin.

Except that it's really not "fin" at all. This is just the beginning. Ugh. And that's how its going to be from now on.

Hat Trick

2009-07-12T18:09:00.003-04:00

Ok, so I didn't get a fedora this weekend, but I did make a sun hat. Now we just need the sun to come out more.

Reach for the stars

2009-07-05T22:40:00.004-04:00

Here are some more delicious treats...

Michael Hsiung's art is genius. It's whimsical, playful and sophisticated and witty. And it features centaurs, mermen and baby angora unicorns. As if that wasn't enough, his bio is HILARIOUS. Do yourself a damn favour and read it. Then join me as we roll on the floor laughing and clapping with delight.

Love giraffes? How about a million of them? Who doesn't love the gangly, vegetarian ungulates? Forget about leggy blonds. Necky ruminants are where it's at. Take a gander at One Million Giraffes and get cracking on a submission. Dude's only got 543 days left.

Courtesy of Maria's mad skillz.

I'm going to tell people I'm turning 25 again.

2009-07-05T21:10:00.005-04:00

My birthday was yesterday. It was lovely. I spent the day outside biking around and eating a picnic on a rock by the water with many friendlies. I also turned an age of significance. People told me the years that are multiples of 7 are usually important. 7, 14, 21, 28, 35, 42, 49, 56 and so on. They're supposed to signify milestones in your life. I guess 7 is when a child starts to become self-aware and a functioning little person. 14 is the most hellish year of adolescence. 21 is when you technically become an "adult". 28 is when you should be an "adult." 35 is "if you're not an adult by now, you're in deep kaka." 42 is when you finally start to chill out and mellow after having been an adult for some years. 49 is so very close to 50, but you've still got a year to enjoy being younger than a half a century old. 56 is when you're body and mind start to slow down. Aches and pains may be more frequent. 63 is when you're retiring or retired and maybe you've got little ones to look after again. Or maybe you're rejuvenated and can finally do all that travelling you've been waiting to do once you finished working. And so on, and so forth.

For my birthday, the lovely Anni got me this book by Miranda July and Harrell Fletcher. I love Miranda July's stuff anyway, but I especially love this book. The original project was a website that was started seven years ago and had various assignments that people completed and then documented. The book is just a snapshot of some of the amazing entries people posted.

One assignment I particularly love is #55: Photograph a significant outfit. Remember exactly what you were wearing during a recent significant moment. Maybe it was the day that your boyfriend broke up with you, or the day your nephew was born, or the day you decided to become a vegetarian. It should be something that happened in the last six months. Lay out what you were wearing on the floor, as if you are dressing an invisible, flat person. Tuck the shirt into the pants, the socks into the shoes, etc. Don't forget the other things that complete your outfit such as jewelry, purse, hat, etc. Do not add anything extra like a wig or a mask--just the clothes you were wearing. Stand on a chair or table and photography the clothes from directly above. Not from above at a slight angle, but so that the camera is pointing straight down. Send us the photo, along with the importance of the day, for example, "What I was Wearing When I got the Phone Call About Grandma Marris Dying." Do not write on the actual photograph, and make sure your photo is in focus. Note: avoid moments that you knew would be significant and so dressed accordingly--such as graduation or Halloween. The outfit itself does not need to be significant, it is just what you happened to be wearing when something of emotional significance happened.

This is mine from the past few months... I wore this the day we did cartwheels on the street. I remembered what it was like to laugh and play with someone. And that was when I knew one thing in my life was over and something else began.

Ikimono11000000!

2009-06-10T20:02:00.006-04:00

The best thing I saw today was this construction worker fixing this little kid's bike. Here was Mister, in his hard hat with the little tyke's bicycle turned over and fidgeting with the chain. Maybe he knew the kiddo, but I'd like to think that he didn't, and I had just stepped into a Richard Scarry world, straight out of Busytown where the construction bear man helps the little fox boy with his bike. Then they walk hand in hand to the candy store but not before running into the nice cat lady in her polka dot dress who sells flowers and wave at the postman dog on his daily route.

I wished I had a secret spy camera to capture such a tear-jerk moment. Wait, I do!

I finally got my grubby paws on this little camera, the Ikimono 110. This little camera looks like a toy, but it works. "Ikimono" means little creature in Japanese. I still can't get over how very ridiculously cute it is. It sits there in my hand just like an obedient squirrel would!

Sadly though, I did not have the camera on me, and I failed to capture that Richard Scarry moment. Dang.

However, this has made me simultaneously gag and laugh out loud:
Cheeseburger in a Can!

Busy Bee

2009-06-04T22:45:00.004-04:00

A whole new whack of projects...Apologies for the crappy photos, but I'm currently rollin' sans digital cam.

Sadiya wanted a Batman garter belt for her wedding. I even made the button!

The first of the food zine. You can't tell, but it's called The Food Off.

Not a project, but I did pick up this boss camera at an antique store today. Now I just have to find the oh-so-difficult-to-find film...

Marinating in anger

2009-05-29T10:44:00.004-04:00

It's Friday. TGIF, right? Not for me. I'm working allllllllll weekend. So obviously it's got me thinking about how being chained to the office is bad, being in front of a computer is butt, working for the man sucks, blah, blah, blah.

If you know me at all, you'll know that I'm all about crafts and skills. All I ever want to do is learn how to do things with my hands. Fix bicycles, cook, garden, build things, sew, silkscreen, play music, knit...Not sit. Hunched over. Suffering tension headaches and pinched nerves, going blind staring at a computer.

So, I was pretty excited to see Boing Boing's blog post yesterday about this book called Shop Class as Soulcraft by Matthew B. Crawford. It's about the importance of using your hands to make and fix things and how there's such an emphasis on "knowledge" work whereas the trades are viewed as inferior occupations. As if tradespeople are too dumb to do other work or have no other choice.

Crawford raises a bunch of interesting thoughts. It's great to have ideas people, but you also need the skills to bring about the execution. When I think of my high school life, I'm always stricken with regret. I went to an academic high school where the focus was on intellectual development. That's fine and dandy, but I really wish I had the option of taking art or shop classes. This school didn't even have a gym. Our options were French and music. My parents enrolled me into the school because of the "competitive edge" it offered for getting into university. I'm not dissing university here, but I do wish I had more of an eclectic training growing up. I liked what I learned in school, and I love writing, but I also have this obsessive need to gather as many tangible DIY skills as possible. There's something ingrained in me that needs to be able to fix things or at least figure out how something works.

I guess not everyone is supposed to take that academic route, but more and more kids are being pushed in that direction, and I'm convinced that's not healthy. It's creating generations of stressed out adults with poor posture.

I saw this video last week:

Ironically, civilizations that worked so hard to move from physical labour have moved to occupations that are just as oppressive. It's not as labour-intensive, rather mental-intensive. People are wigging out and stressing!

I really think there is something to be said about working with your hands. It's part of human nature. It's just so satisfying and comforting. And ironically, instead of doing something with my hands and mad skillz, I just spent a bunch of time writing about it.

A gentleman's pursuit

2009-05-17T10:25:00.003-04:00

A few days ago Boing Boing posted this article from The Atlantic about happiness. It focused on a study of men and their lives that spanned over seven decades! There has never been a longitudinal psychological study this exhaustive, extensive and detailed as this one. The men were interviewed, went in for physicals and completed surveys every few years up until their deaths. The study focuses solely on men, Harvard sophmores---JFK was apparently a participant but his files are sealed until 2040!

So the article got me thinking about the path to happiness and the pursuit of pleasure. If there is a straight and easy way to achieve a goal or obtain happiness, you can bet your balls I won't take it. I have this deeply ingrained notion that I have to suffer in order to get what I want. That means getting to grandma's house involves trekking through the Making-it-harder-for-myself-in-any-way-I-can Woods instead of simply hoping into a cab and whizzing straight there. I can't help it considering my upbringing. Catholic AND Chinese?! We were fed guilt for breakfast. Suffering IS salvation.

Why do I do this to myself? And on a greater level, why do we do it to ourselves? Why's it so hard to treat ourselves, and why do we always feel the need to justify it when we do?

Is it the recession? (The recession is my current favourite scapegoat explanation. Somehow I don't think so, as I've always felt guilty even during times when the economy's rollin'.

Could it be the puritanical nature of our ancestors? Maybe. The whole idea of relaxation and pleasure is so unnatural to us. Stress is pretty much ingrained in us, that even on vacation, we can't seem to relax.

I do know this though. Happiness is bunch on Sunday. And I refuse to feel guilty about that.

(I snagged the pic from www.nalinisingh.com/books.html)

Tell me one good thing that happened to you today...

2009-04-20T19:49:00.004-04:00

And these were the responses I got:

-Lana got to play outside like it was 1985 in the sunshine. If she is happy, I'm happy. and I got to sidewalk chalk alllll over the driveway

-the cat that my family sometimes takes care of had kittens

-i made a lovely soup....

-I had a great conversation about healthy body weight with my Katima-participants.

-i bought new shower curtains for our bathroom. and i also bought us a new can opener and q-tips. oh and mr. clean magic eraser. you should see half of our bathtub...its miraculous.

-roy cleaned the bath tub

-I registered my band as a business. I don't know why I'm so excited about that, but I -am.

-I read these hilarious posts from my neighbours!

-i finally finished this work that i should have finished last monday - woo hoo!

-i talked with some friends about starting a new band

-I saw Greggers by the water cooler.

-i found free lawn furniture on the side of the road.
(and i got an email from youuuuuu!)

-I went for delicious Indian food!

-i spoke to my friend mk about coming up for a visit in t dot.

-I tentatively agreed to let a French couple sleep on my couch for two nights.

-i got custody of two of my pets back from Daniel haha & played with them all day -- i thought it was pretty sweet! ;o)

-i got a haircut after being on a waitlist for two weeks!

Get it together

2009-04-16T19:15:00.006-04:00

"Only good girls get into trouble. Bad girls know how to take care of themselves."

That was THE best thing I heard yesterday. Last night Jamie's Area held a symposium on dating. The five speakers got down to the brass tacks of dating.

Local writer Chandler Levack interviewed her grandma Gemma Fischer on how dating has changed. Granted, some values have morphed over the decades, I think people still ultimately want the same thing: To love and be loved. It's human nature, and though we may have certain liberties in this day and age, the price we pay is a more complicated way of dating.

I was already feeling pretty emotional that day, and some of the bittersweet things Fischer said made me want to ball my eyes out. She talked about how people are too choosy sometimes, but one cannot keep looking forever for Mr/Ms Right. Maybe people are too greedy and want to "play the field" but that's also where complications arise. Fischer had everyone in the place paying attention at one point. You could hear a pin drop when she told the audience about her husband and how he spent a lot of time in Quebec, and how she, as a woman, knew not to ask too many questions. She also spoke about compromise and how women usually compromise more in a relationship. She pointed out that no one is perfect, and at some point you just have to accept it. Not settle per se, but quit looking for perfection. And I almost lost my shit when she talked about finding love and not letting it go because true, true love only happens a few times in a person's life. If you're lucky. So if you find it, don't lose it. Simple words, but often a complicated and hurtful process, no? It was so interesting listening to her speak because some of the things she said seemed outdated, but if you really thought about it, it's still relevant today for most people in some capacity.

Chris Dupuis provided a queer perspective and talked about his experiences being a slut. In his dry yet humourous manner, he through a top 10 list of his more memorable amorous encounters.

Emma Healey gave us the high school perspective and laid down three rules that should be made legal when it comes to dating. Number 1 was making Ikea the must-go-to place for a first date. I can't imagine that girl having any troubles getting a date with her witty personality. She can't be as awkward as she claims to be!

Kathleen Phillips performed one of my favourite pieces of the night. She wrote a hilarious character sketch about Charlotte, the Harlot, who loved everyone she had been with.

Aaron Kopff's talk was probably the most uncomfortable of all. He was a bit all over the place as his story had numerous offshoots, and it was hard to follow at times. But everyone collectively cringed and recoiled as he recounted the story of the time he shit his pants and had to call his ex to bring him a new pair. He ended his talk with an Annie Hall reference about how dating and love is a battlefield. Sure it's easier and less painful to not date---there wouldn't be as many casualties---but we just can't help ourselves.

One, Two, Buckle My Shoe

2009-04-13T20:11:00.003-04:00

There's something comforting about making a list. It's the beginning of a task, and it always makes you feel like you're getting something done even when all you're really doing is organizing. You may get the list done, or, in my case, you may not.

I know people who love making lists more than they love their mothers. I do not. I like lists sometimes, and I love my mom most times. However, in an effort to do more writing, I've decided to try and do a weekly list on this blog. It could be about anything...I'm open to suggestions, the key is to just have things to line up and then you, dear reader, can knock them down.

Anni suggested I make a list of things I want to do this summer. Seeing as Toronto has been lovely lately, full of sunshine and my mood has drastically improved from the despair of last week, I thought, why the hell not.

Summer's one of my favourite seasons---I mean there aren't many to choose from, but it's got a few things going for it. Namely my birthday is in the summer (now that I'm older, it's not as exciting and maybe in a few years, I'll come to hate summer because of it) and because summer is the best time to be biking around and fruit generally tastes better when it's warm out.

So, here are some things I want to do this summer:

1) Learn to fix/build a bicycle. I recently went to a bike co-op an learned some very basic skills. Bike fixing is like opening a Pandora's box. There's always more to tune up.

2) Hang out on stoops more. Nothing says fun like hanging out on a friend's porch/stoop watching people while enjoying some cold brews. Maybe incorporate a board game or two.

3) Learn Spanish. Not necessarily a summer-related activity, more an attempt to get motivated to learn a new language.

4) Visit Chicago. I have a fascination with the city and what it offers. And not because of the Obamas.

5) Bike rides and picnics on Toronto Island. 'Nuff said.

6) Hang out in parks and drink beer. Reasons to do this are similar to #2, but add in frolicking dogs and amateur baseball, and it's bliss.

7) Go back to New York and enjoy the city in all its sweaty, sticky, stinky glory.

8) Visit friendlies in Halifax and go biking to a lake. Jump in and bask in nature's grandeur.

9) Play Bocce ball and croquet.

10) More S.T.

That's it. A rather do-able list, I'd say.

*If you are really curious about #10, e-mail me.

**If you're really, really curious about whether I've accomplished this list, ask me in the fall. I may lie.

Give me my damn eggs...

2009-04-12T11:47:00.002-04:00

I should really mention the following things each time I visit a new hairdresser:

1) Do not make me look like an ass.

2) I do not style, use product or blow dry my hair so please do not spend more time styling my hair at the end than on the actual cut itself. The cut is king. I am a lazy hair person. I do not even own a blow dryer.

3) Just because I give you a photo of the kind of cut I want doesn't mean you have to do everything in your power to make my hair look like that. As soon as I step outside that door, the wind is going to flip and toss all your hard work into one frustrating knot, making me look like a chump.

4) Do not make me look like an ass.

Apparently my latest hairdresser did not listen to points 1 and 4.

I haven't successfully found a good hairdresser since leaving Edmonton. Not only did I find one, but two, count 'em TWO! really, really stellar stylists in E-town. Surely, Toronto could step up its game and present a worthy contender. I would think T-Dot would have at least one stylist who is both friendly and able to give me a cut that doesn't make me weep. I mean, really! I've tried recommendations, I've tried cheap stylists, expensive salons both here and in Halifax. Most cuts have either left me running out of the salon screaming and fighting the urge to cry or made me look in the mirror and go "meh" or "I should have just put a salad bowl on my head and cut it myself."

Daaaaaaaaaaaaaamn. I gots no luck with the hairdressers.

Let's Dance

2009-03-04T18:40:00.003-05:00

Ok, sometimes when I'm at work, I'll look up videos on YouTube (who doesn't, right?)

Anyway, I came across this little gem.

I'm a suckah for breakdancing anything. I've even started watching America's Next Best Dance Crew
and it wasn't because I was curious to see where A.C. Slater ended up. Admittedly JC Chasez, the Justin of N'Sync that didn't make it, seems like a pretty nice guy. He's always giving constructive criticism and quick to point out the positive aspects of a crew. And Lil' Mama with her sweet Brooklyn accent is definitely one of my favourites of the show. But I digress...

bgirldeedee, aka Lilach, does some pretty dope moves with her flexible phalanges, popping and locking, doing the moonwalk, fancy footwork and other moves. They look complicated even in hand form, so props to her for her choreography.

I wanna hold your haaaaaand...

2009-02-22T22:23:00.007-05:00

So I gotta give a proper shout out to this blog I've been following lately. Two words: Ryan Maloney. The man is a genius, absolutely brimming with wit and humour. I can attest to that because I work with him. Not only does he bring joy to my daily editorial meetings, he also brings a winning smile, apple-coloured cheeks and a mischievous twinkle in his eye, making the daily grind just that much more bearable.

I think Julie summed it up best when she described what happens when she reads his writing: Guffaw, guffaw, guffaw, awwww.....Ryan writes about his life with the right mix of honesty, self-deprecation and raunchy humour. He'll make you laugh, he'll make you cry, and he'll make you want to regurgitate his words.

If he knew I was gushing on and on about his work here, he'd probably blush a bit more in his already rosy cheeks and say, "Aw, shucks." Well, too bad, Maloney. I'm plugging your blog, and you best be ready to rouge more.

Now, if you'll take a walk down television memory lane with me, do you remember that episode of Seinfeld where Jerry dates a woman with enormous man hands? And that scene where she rips open a lobster with her bare hands?

Well, that's exactly how I feel right now wearing my current pair of gloves. See, I HATE gloves. I hate them because I don't like the way it makes my fingers feel alienated or the way it makes my hands look ginormous or how my pinky finger is always freezing and needs to sneak into my ring finger's section like a child sneaking into their sibling's bed just to get some extra warmth. And the reason why I'm wearing them is because my old pair of mittens have great big, gaping holes in them. I'm currently knitting a new pair of mittens, but it's taking me freakin' forever. And, because winter seems to be back, I need something on my paws, so I've resorted to the gloves.

Perhaps these monolith hands will help build bigger snowmen and snowballs? Lord knows they make my snow angels look warped.

Spring Cleanup, Please

2009-02-10T22:10:00.003-05:00

Now don't get me wrong: I love spring when things are starting to melt. I used to love watching rivers of water from huge chunks of ice run into storm drains. But there's something about the ceremonious unveiling of long-forgotten dog shit rearing its ugly head that I could do without. You'll always find smears of dog poop and mushy piles of kaka all over the sidewalks and other walking areas when the weather starts to warm up a bit. I guess it ain't spring until you step into some months-old canine fecal matter that have gone through the freezing/thawing process.

The street's barfed up construction and concrete

2009-01-31T02:12:00.002-05:00

The last few days I've been a Moody McMoodson. Not in a terrible way exactly. I feel pretty upbeat in spite of some work anxieties and uncertainty. I am now in Edmonton, visiting the fam and just hanging out.

The universe is certainly on its ass. The weather is warmer than in Toronto and it's frickin' raining so the streets are an ice rink. My usually quiet, boring suburban neighborhood has been dug up and there's loads of construction going on. I guess the city is expanding its transit system so things are all out of whack. I can't get over how much things are being dug up and how there are piles of ice, snow and pipes everywhere.

The biggest whammy of being back is seeing my friends. These are people I've known for 10+ years, and they're all grown up now. Little partying, everyone's in serious relationships, got careers on track, buying houses and cars. It freaks me out a bit to think of our past partying days and feelings of uncertainty. There was such excitement and optimism then. Now it's replaced by responsibility and routine. I guess that's what happens when you "grow up".

But I still can't help but feel incredibly guilty for having so much fun in my life. It's like I've got a larger slice of the cosmic pie of happiness and hot diggity, am I ever having fun. My life in Toronto is so different than my past life in Edmonton. It's odd to be back to revisit bits of the old me and old haunts. I can't help but feel very relieved for leaving Edmonton, and that makes me feel kind of guilty. I mean, these are my roots, yo! It's been almost two years since I've been back to Edmonton and while I'm enjoying strolling down Memory Lane, it's completely under construction. Things are familiar and they're not. It's definitely an odd feeling.

Top 5 of 2008

2009-01-21T21:33:00.007-05:00

So I'm going to post what would have been my entry to a music contest had I actually entered. I could blame the blackout last week for me missing the deadline, but really, I have no one or thing to blame but my own damn self. I'm still kicking myself for missing the cut off date, but hopefully you'll enjoy my musical ramblings.

Also, I would probably switch my #5, now that I've had some time to change my mind and say, screw Cancon! (and sorry Sari and Romy) I know the new Animal Collective, Merriweather Post Pavilion was technically released in 2009, but I feel like I need to mention this record because I've been glorifying it lately.

Otherwise #5 would be a toss-up between The Dodos' Visitor and Shugo Tokumaro's Exit.

*************************************************************************************

When I found out about the contest, my immediate thought was to compare music to food. Both are integral to my life, and my choices for the top of 2008 this year are like well-prepared meals. The musicians take time and care to produce a fine album and they fill up my mind and leave me feeling incredibly satisfied after each listen. I know I'm only supposed to write something for the top album, but I felt like each one deserved a few sentences.

5) Ghost Bees - Tasseomancy is like a shot of schnapps after you've received a fright. The Halifax twins of Ghost Bees are spooky, little elfins making music that are like tales you tell around a fire. Everyone is huddled together wondering who is the next person to be collected by death. Their lyrics are fantastical tales and their voices are both creepy, sad and beautiful all at once.

4) El Guincho - Alegranza! is like a post-modern gazpacho made with crazy hot peppers and a manic chef on LSD. I love this album because it's like a uppity, ADD, Spanish Animal Collective.

3) Bon Iver - For Emma, Forever Ago is a thick, warm, hearty stew slow-cooked over an open fire using wood you've chopped yourself. You can hear all the care that went into making this album, all the quiet reflection of the three months of isolation folk singer/songwriter Justin Vernon spent recording For Emma, Forever Ago. This album truly warms my soul.

2) Erykah Badu - New Amerykah, Part One: 4th World War. Ms. Badu may be a strict vegan, but New Amerykah is definitely the soul chicken dinner of albums this year. I love the beats, samples and melodies she uses. They fit well with her smooth, groovy voice. Whenever I listen to this album, I feel like I'm being fed a loving meal with a large family gathered around. We may fight, but I always know I can count on blood. (I'm a vegetarian, but I've always said that if there were a meat to turn me back to being an omnivore, it would be chicken!)

1) Chad Vangaalen - Soft Airplane is a musical sandwich, plain and simple. Like the humble sandwich, which easily fills up hungry tummies, Vangaalen's 2008 release is like a sandwich that fills up my musical hunger. His lyrics are the bread of a song, providing the structure, the very essence of a sandwich. The strength of his story-telling leaves me completely sated. The production of the songs, the melodies and instruments are like the filler of a sandwich. They can be simple like a peanut butter sandwich or a bologna sandwich, or they can be dressed up like a fancy roasted eggplant, hummus and avacado toasted sandwich. I want to say that "Willow Tree" alone is enough to make me let Soft Airplane take the top of the 2008 cake. He's the King Daddy of 200Great for me.

I'm not going to talk about it...

2009-01-21T21:19:00.005-05:00

I could blog about how integral the inauguration was to our lives and how history was made, but there are enough of those posts floating around the interweb. I will say this though: I got choked up watching the reactions of the American people during the speech. Sure, Obama is a great orator, but I damn near bawled my eyes out watching the reactions in the crowd. And that is exactly what Obama means to me. He is idealistic and gregarious, but he really represents hope to me. He won't be able to change everything and undo years of bad decisions but the most important thing he offers is a sense of optimism, passion and possibility for others, especially the young'uns. That's where real change is possible, in the future generations, and by god, I will be thankful if he's even able to inspire one good human being to be even better.

I know I said I wasn't going to talk about the inauguration, but goddamn, the First Couple's First Dance gave me shivers. Beyonce's voice was silky, sultry and smooth like freshly churned butter. I actually felt the shivers travel up and down my spine. Watching the Obamas dance made me believe that there is such a thing as everlasting love. I felt like I was at their wedding, and effin' hell, what a way to say hello to 2009.

And finally, finally, finally, Aretha Franklin's hat! I do believe the post on Oh No They Didn't sums it up so perfectly. I've been fierced.

It ain't right...

2009-01-04T17:19:00.002-05:00

That's what Anni kept saying the whole time we were in New York City. But she meant it in the best possible way because there were so many things that were oh so right. I am in love with that city. This was my third time visiting, and each time my love for it grows and grows. There's no place like NYC, and the people are not like the wet mops of Toronto. They actually have some passion and directness instead of the wishy-washy, apologetic nature of so many fellow Canadians.

I keep expecting New Yorkers to be rude, impatient and downright mean. They never are. They're polite, good-natured and funny people. I've never felt it so easy to talk to people or have people approach me. They have a happy disposition that I sometimes find lacking here in Toronto. This posting isn't to slam T-Dot because there are plenty of great things about this city, but it's always nice to get out of your familiar surroundings and see other places. If anything, this trip to NYC has renewed my lust for travel. I have a new vigour and desire to go to a new place at least every couple of months.

Some NYC highlights included:
-Eating at Red Bamboo (this may be the most amazing vegetarian restaurant I have ever been, and I've been veg for 11 years. Red Bamboo serves soul food. This ain't right.)
-NYC Public Library (the building is incredible, from the detailing in the interior to the sassy older librarian ladies with their smart outfits and perfectly coiffed do's. Now that ain't right.)
-Bonita (Mexican restaurant in Brooklyn. Not only was the food delish, the servers were friendly, cute and full of laughter and silliness. And they rocked some Brooklyn hip hop so brownie points...Again, it ain't right.)
-Free pizza at the Charleston (a bar in Brooklyn on Bedford Ave. During happy hour, you can get a pizza pie to choke down with the beer. Brilliant.)
-Bowling at the Gutter (another bar in Brooklyn. Now that ain't right.)
-Macy's (this is a world-class department store with old wooden escalators. Yes, wooden escalators. It ain't right.)
-Seeing Yo La Tengo in Montclair, NJ on NYE (the whole evening was so low key and unpretentious. The audience was multi-generational, there was no countdown, the music was phenomenal, the performance was solid. The only thing was the commute out to Jersey. It's give and take I suppose.)
-hanging at Moe's near Mat's house (good music, uninhibited people with uninhibited dance moves)
-New Yorkers ('nuff said. And it ain't right.)

For Old Timer's Sake

2008-12-08T21:32:00.004-05:00

I opened a Pandora's box. The other day I collected a couple things I had left at my friend's place after I moved away the first time. Inside were a bunch of photos and letters and buried memories. I ended up opening up everything and going for a stroll down Memory Lane. After a while, I just couldn't hack it anymore. Nostalgia and "what ifs" plagued my mind, and I needed to run away. The whole experience left me feeling somewhat numb.

It's weird how I've forgotten some things I swore I'd never forget. Or how I convinced myself that I wasn't going to be bothered by certain things anymore yet how easily that nagging feeling came back when I saw the mementos.

I sometimes find it hard to acknowledge how long life is. Sure it's short, and "they" always talk about how quickly it goes by and not to waste it. I agree, but when you stop and think about how much activity goes on in one person's life, how many people one meets, loves, hates, how many interactions and memories one person's life has, you'll understand what I mean. I used to regret when I lost touch with people or when relationships ended. I am the worst at letting go of dead relationships, constantly flogging that horse until I'm cranky and fatigued, but now I know better. I used to be very good at keeping in touch with people, but eventually it just got too exhausting to stay in touch with everyone. I have had luck reconnecting with people from my past, but there are still some that I haven't and wonder about. Opening that box only made me wonder more.

On a somewhat related note, Natasha sent me a link to Advanced Style, and I'm happily enjoying it. You gotta respect your elders, and these stylish seniors know what looks good. It's a relief to know that style doesn't have to go out the door as a person ages. Now what I really want to know is what kind of Pandora's boxes they have.

T'is the season, dudes

2008-11-29T23:36:00.004-05:00

I had to work this weekend, so I'm a grumposaurus. Aside from having to work, I find the nature of my work makes me kinda grouchy as well. I got a job writing news headlines for a website, and while it's journalism-related I'm not doing much of my own writing. But that's not the point I want to make. The point is the news is depressing. Well, duh.

Bad news is news. I've been feeling down all week, and aside from the usual things like winter and me throwing myself a pity party, I realized a lot of my down-in-the-dumps feelings were also because of what's been going on in the world. Shit hit the global fan and splattered everyone. From the Mumbai massacre and the Nigerian election-related clashes to the economy and the Canadian government on the verge of collapsing to shopping-related deaths in the States and the David Frost verdict, it's a wonder I've gotten out of bed. The thing is, there's not much I or one individual can do about it other watch/listen to the news and discuss with our friends about how fucked up the world is.

I'm a huge believer in the whole "when it rains, it pours" phenomenon. Past life lessons has taught me that either nothing happens or it all happens at once. I shudder to think about what'll happen next week. Thank God I get three days off, so preferably it'll all happen Wednesday onwards.

Oh yeah, The Acorn, a phenomenal band from Ottawa, should just change their name to Babetown. I was lucky enough to score a ticket to their sold out show on Thursday. The Rural Alberta Advantage and Obijou opened for them. I left the show thinking that all was all right with the world. Apparently not though. :(

Mom, Dad, I'd like you to meet...

2008-11-22T19:03:00.005-05:00

Here is a list of people I would love to have as boyfriends. In no particular order:

-David Sedaris
-Ira Glass
-Chuck Klosterman
-Roald Dahl
-David Suzuki
-Oscar Wilde
-Jens Lekman
-Sook Yin Lee

That is all.

I'd like a ticket to Stylesville, please

2008-11-18T22:24:00.005-05:00

At the risk of sounding horrifically materialistic and shallow, I got some sweet duds over the weekend, and I'm more than excited to show them off. House of Spy was having a fantastic sample sale, and I managed to score some key items as well as have the change room to myself! It's a communal change room and because it was pissing cats and dogs that day, it wasn't busy when I roll in soaking wet.

Anyway, all this ties in with my goal to change my wardrobe and develop a more "grown up" look. So far Operation Sophisticated Look has been a bust. I guess the not-getting-paid-until-recently thing was a big hindrance. I'd like to believe these purchases are send offs on the Grown-Up train en route to Stylishville, population: me.

I've been rocking the This American Life podcast lately. Ira Glass is a god, and it is THE best pieces of radio work I have heard in a very long time. Without fail, every single time I listen to that podcast, I want to cry. But in a good way. It's storytelling stripped down to its bare bones. No fancy sound effects, no screeching voices, only the one voice, maybe an occasional interviewee and stories that move, haunt, delight, entertain, amuse and frustrate you. I can't get enough of it.

Oh, and I don't care what any of you have to say about this next statement, so I'm just gonna say it. Vice's Do's and Don'ts are awesome. I've been reading for years and they're always consistent little arses. The writing is bitchy, mean, sometimes sexist, often downright rude, but dammit, do I ever enjoy reading them. Some say sarcasm is the lowest form of wit. I say, so be it. I'll be laughing all the way down.

Here's something else I've been reading obsessively (besides David Sedaris of course): Norman Yeung's blog. He's a local dude, artist, writer, actor, all-around talented man. I first read about him in Ricepaper and love his graffiti and artwork. Now that I've found his blog, all I do is read it compulsively and try not to weep with joy over how funny and utterly random he is. Check it, yo.

Bah Halloweenbug

2008-10-31T21:37:00.002-04:00

Well, I've started a new job. This was just week one, finished. It was intense. Lots to remember, faces to remember, names to remember, a cheery disposition to keep up even though all I wanted to do was scream or run to the bathroom and have a good cry. Ok, it's not that bad. Just another change in life and a transition to get used to.

So in addition to the whole job thing, I got thinking a lot about image and how it's so important to project "professional" once you enter the working world. All this translates to employability. I thought that it would be more lax in the dot com world, but at the end of the day, it's still a business and business casual reigns supreme.

It's not an easy transition for me since I'm pretty low-key and into comfort. I may also be stuck in a halfway point where I still enjoy youthful clothes, but I can't necessarily pull them off in my day-to-day work world. There's this girlness that I can't seem to shake, and maybe it's more about a mentality that needs to be shaken.

I used to have a shoe mantra that if I couldn't run in them, then I couldn't wear them, which is why I rarely own heels. I have never even tried on a pair of stilettos, yet they are the shoe that comes to mind when you mention the word "style". I don't think it's possible to be considered a style icon if you're someone who wears flats. It's kinda sad really, how there's only one kind of "style" but that's the way the cookie crumbles.

In all my years, I've owned four pairs of heels. One of which I bought this year. I think I'm going through an image anxiety transition. Clearly the jeans and t-shirts aren't going to cut it anymore yet I'm at a loss as to what is "professional" and still a personal style. As hokey as this is going to sound, What Not to Wear is exactly the kind of show that would be beneficial to someone like me. Ugh. I can't believe I just said that. Shoot me now.

Oh yeah, and I hate Halloween. I usually get costume performance anxiety. There's way too much pressure to come up with a costume, and I never do. I almost considered wearing a #11.

What the...?

2008-10-23T18:24:00.007-04:00

Well, I guess it's good to get the kids involved and informed about politics at a young age.
Lion Brand Yarn has some free patterns on their website for the U.S. electoral candidates. My question is: Why is McCain smiling and why does Obama seem to be scowling?

Pictures and blogs, oh my!

2008-10-22T09:36:00.004-04:00

Lately I've been obsessed with a few photo blogs. There's something nice about having a strong visual to mull over while doing temp work. :) In no particular order:

The Sartorialist Maybe it's because it's starting to get cold, and I'm pulling out all those sweaters and sweaters for some reason always remind me of runways and fall collections, but I love this blog. What I like about Sart's work is that he 1) takes beautiful photographs and 2) he doesn't do it with any kind of pretention. He simply appreciates good fashion and beauty for what it is, not because it's trendy or hip or cool. He also has some thoughtful insights he adds from time to time, which leads me to believe that fashion isn't always bitchy.

Sleeveface "one or more persons obscuring or augmenting any part of their body or bodies with record sleeve(s) causing an illusion." Brilliant idea by Carl Morris and John Rostron. People hold up album covers to their faces and dress accordingly to the album to match up their hair/clothes/environment to the album. I do believe they've launched a book as well! I think I've found my Halloween costume this year.

Boing Boing had some excellent posts last week. One of my favourites was The Brokers with Hands on Their Faces Blog. It's quite a reflection of the times. If you're anything like me who doesn't know squat about economics or business or trading, it's kinda cool to see the "human" side of finances. It's not all just numbers and dollars and cents, I guess.

2008-10-15T21:31:00.003-04:00

Holy cats, Invisible Publishing is producing some most excellent work! The small press is focused on publishing emerging writers and has already published several collections of short stories and a few novels. They're based in Montreal and Halifax and feature writers such as Devon Code, Stephanie Domet, Anna Leventhal, Sue Carter Flinn and loads more. I read Homing by CBC broadcaster, Stephanie Domet as well as In Transit, which features a thwack of short stories about nomadism/travel. Wonderful, wonderful stuff.

Today, I just picked up Fear of Fighting by Stacey May Fowles and Marlena Zuber, and I love, love, LOVE it. It's kind of eerie how accurately it describes my life. In a nutshell, the main character, Marnie, is in her 20s and still trying to figure out her own identity while getting over a broken heart. It's spooky because at some parts, Marnie's words mirror my own paranoid/sad/depressed/self-actualizing thoughts. I'd definitely recommend this book and all of Invisible Publishing's delicious offerings to anyone who enjoys reading works from a cornucopia of talented, fresh and cheeky writers.

Your throwup makes me throw up

2008-10-10T10:20:00.006-04:00

Let me be the first to say, I will eat my own damn words. Toronto does dance. The proof was in the pudding. The pudding of last night's show at Lee's Palace. Edmontonian (represent!) Cadence Weapon rocked the house and ran, jumped, crawled and flailed on stage all the while egging on the audience with his hip hop beats---courtesy of the dj who's name I can't recall...Noah? Noel? His usual partner-in-crime, Dj Weez-l, wasn't with him this time around and the sound was a bit more mashed up and less scratch as it is with Weez-l.

The sound at Lee's was shit (as usual), so you could only partially hear what Cadence Weapon was rapping. And with an artist like Cadence Weapon, it's important to be able to hear his clever lyrics. I had a hard time catching his Edmonton references, and that was a crying shame. He did his shout outs to Juliann Wilding and Nik Kozub though, and at one point, perched himself on the shoulders of localster, Henri Faberge. Cadence Weapon was sporting the best outfit...white jeans, black runners and a white shirt with a gold image of Barack Obama and gold lettering that said, "Change. Yes, we can." Priceless.

Local electro duo darlings, Woodhands opened, and more than sufficiently got peeps moving and shaking.

Top off Cadence Weapon's set with some kind of weird impromptu shirtless mosh pit consisting of three dudes dancing like it's disco and a cover of the Stooges' I Need Somebody and call it a night. Gear!

So you think you can dance, Canada

2008-10-09T09:52:00.004-04:00

Apparently not in Toronto. I went to see Stereolab at the Phoenix last night, and despite their most excellent pop-y sounds, only pockets of people were shaking their moneymakers. Toronto's notorious for having hard-to-please crowds, hipsters standing around like stern parents with arms crossed and slouching posture while bands jump, beg, and plead with music to implore us to move. Not happening.

The show was so, so, so good. Stereolab was really solid, and singer Laetitia Sadier was shimmying on stage, so there's really no reason why the crowd wasn't dancing either. At one point, Laetitia did this cool thing where she managed to maneuver her hair into a twist, and it stayed up for most of the song without any clips or elastic bands to hold it up. That girl oozes coolness with her sexy French accent and euro-awesomeness.

The set was solid, as they showcased more of their pop-iness. Each song was consistently good and mind-blowing. It's no wonder they've been around since 1991.

Adventures in Tempdom

2008-10-08T10:14:00.003-04:00

I've been doing this temp thing for a while now. My first stint was over a year ago, and I ended up getting a three-month assignment at a medical organization. It was fine and dandy and really good to get a semi-steady paycheque, but I thought now that I'm done school and moved back to T-Dot, I should be able to find something in my field. Of course, with things like rent, food and student loans, I've resorted to temp work once again. This time around, I've taken on smaller assignments--gotta keep searching for that dream job, right? So far, it's been up and down.

For one thing, some places treat you like shit. Employees know you're not around for long, thus it translates to either a) you are invisible, and your existance calls for no recognition or b) you are expected to know who every single employee in the frickin' company is and memorize the thousands of permutations and combinations of extension numbers. Of course the other temp experience I've seen is c) people are so incredibly nice to you and realize you don't know anything that they tell you you're doing a great job even when you've transferred their calls to the wrong person. C's are few and far between the jungle of A's and B's.

Don't get me wrong, temp work can be great if you're in between gigs or have something else that is your main passion on the go. There are certainly good opportunities to network and keep busy. In my case though, I'm networking in the wrong fields, and despite the money, it's sucking my soul and regurgitating back a cynical, negative puke experience. Barf.

The pic is from Marty Gordon, and his blog is www.martworks.blogspot.com/

YouTube: I love you

2008-10-06T21:14:00.006-04:00

Oh my freakin' god. I may be appreciating this waaaaay too late considering this video was made a while ago, but damn!

Kid Koala got his distant cousin, Monkmus to do this video, and I am floored by the end product. The song's called "Fender Bender" and it's from Kid Koala's Carpal Tunnel Syndrome album. The music is tight, the illustration is tight with just the right amount of humour and emotion. Hurray for Monkmus! I just learned about him from the latest copy of Giant Robot, where there's an interview with Monkmus. It's great art like this that makes me think all is well with the world.

Here's another amazing animation I found. A friend posted this up on his Facebook page ages ago, and I fell in love with Yuri Norshtein's work. Even the voice of the mole is comforting. Now I know the world will be okay.

And finally this little gem my roomie and I found on Bravo the other day. Diana Ross as Dorothy, Michael Jackson as the Scarecrow and Richard Pryor as The Wiz. Need I say more?

The Wiz - Brand new day
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