the new is the true

but vs. and

2012-02-04T15:29:00.000-05:00

This is going to be a hippie post.

I was walking down the street just now, thinking about how I'd like to win a billion dollars (or something in that vicinity). I was thinking about the fact that if I did win this large sum of money, I'd like to have someone to help me figure out how to manage it ethically, meaning help as many people as possible, and in a way that felt meaningful and important to me. I started explaining it in an imaginary conversation, saying, 'So I want to have a comfortable life, and have things I enjoy, and make sure that my wealth grows and my family is taken care of and my life feels good, but I also want to-.' And I stopped. I was going to continue with, 'help as many people with my money as I can, and make sure that the world is benefiting from my riches.' I stopped because I suddenly recognized that that word - but - meant that something in me saw those two ideas as opposed, and how likely was it to believe that I could do both things if I also thought that they worked against one another. And I realized that a very easy transition, replacing the word 'but' with the word 'and' meant that I could (subconsciously) accept that the two ideas could work together. This seems to me like it will help everything to flow a little easier.

So: I want to have a good life, enriched by wealth and access to material goods and experiences I might not otherwise afford, and I want to contribute to the betterment of the world by sharing that wealth and using it in ways that fulfill my own vision of wonderful.

Now I'm really noticing my internal monologue (or dialogue) and where there are conflicts between things I want. Example: I want a career I enjoy and I want time to write creatively. Further: I want a career that supports me well financially and I want to write. I want to enjoy Toronto and I want to maintain strong connections with the people I love around the country (/world). I want to feel healthy and I want to eat things that I enjoy. Before this afternoon I likely would have used the word 'but' where you see all of those pretty slanted ands (so open and nice, and). No longer.

Resolutions

2012-01-11T21:08:00.000-05:00

Instead of New Year's resolutions, Sally and I spent the solstice making lists of things we were releasing and things we were inviting into our lives. Top of my list for things I'm inviting into my life: a focus on creative projects, and sharing them with other people. Because as much as I write, and make, and experiment, it's usually just for me. I know that that can have its place, but where I'm stuck is putting those things out into the world, and out in the world is where I think they should be.

Then I came across literary resolutions, and decided to make one of those, a fair bit after the fact. I posted mine in this week's edition of bookishness, but here it is again:

I resolve to write something that's not an email every day (and read some classic literature). This is today.

Nomi Chi

2011-08-19T10:56:00.000-04:00

I am still totally obsessed with Nomi Chi's tattoos. (That she makes, not has.) I think you can see why. Sigh.

Yum y Yummier

2011-06-26T20:23:00.001-04:00

Please please please, if you are in Toronto, go to Agave y Aguacade.

It's in Kensington, and it's hidden away in a little nook of Latin American food stands (as I said to everyone I told in real life, "You know the place with the churros? Way in the back behind there."). I am rarely willing to pay for Mexican food, because it is usually oh so disappointing, but this: there are no words. Okay, there are a few words:

Fresh.
Insanely fresh.
Delicious.
Oh my god delicious.

R and I took our lunch (the Tostada Verde and the Tostada Tinga, about $7 each, along with drinks from across the street) to the tables out back. It was so so so so so so so delicious. And so (wait for it) fresh.

When Agave y Aguacade opened it was staffed by just one person, Chef Francisco Alejandri (he has a blog. It has recipes. They are surely wonderful.). Early reports focused on (guess) the freshness and deliciousness of the food, along with the waaaaaaaait that came with (or rather, before) it. When we went there was a second person working alongside the chef, but we were still standing around for 15 minutes or so before our food was ready. Just to say, plan ahead, and know that there may be a wait (though it's actually fascinating and fun watching them prepare everything with so much care and precision). Know also that the food is totally worth it.

Very pinteresting

2011-04-02T17:39:00.000-04:00

As I am an early adopter (or at least like to think of myself as one, ahem no smartphone yet what?), I had to take Ms. Spankie up on her offer of an invitation to join Pinterest. What is Pinterest, you ask? I HAVE NO IDEA. BUT IT'S NEW AND PRETTY.

From what I gather, you "pin" things you come across on the internet (pictures only? Not entirely sure...) onto "boards" that you categorize. Here is mine. So far I have pinned one thing.

If anyone's interested in trying it, I have five invitations. Yes!

I will always and forever be 15 inside

2011-03-06T18:04:00.001-05:00

Grounding my anxiety by cleaning the apartment while listening to Hole's Live Through This and drinking red wine. Except for the fact that I didn't get drunk for the first time until I was 17 (xawesomex), I could be 15. Although 15 year old me would probably be throwing things around, rather than picking them up.

Radical Self Love

2011-03-05T20:57:00.001-05:00

photo by flickr user Scoobymoo

Of late, I'm obsessed with loving myself. I've felt slightly disappointed by circumstances lately, by the fact that living life is sometimes challenging, and I get stressed out, and feel down sometimes, and I would much rather be feeling good and excited and happy. I find myself wondering how to feel good despite the challenges, because I know that changing my circumstances is not the great cure-all it sometimes seems it should be. I (me, moi - not my job, not my apartment, not my blind date, not my novel-in-progress) am in charge of how I feel. I hate coming across all new-agey (even though I am, at least a little bit), but that seems to be the truth of it. And if I don't feel good then... well, then I just need to start feeling good (and doing whatever it takes to make that happen).

I've made an internal, as yet unwritten list of ways to do that, and at the top of it: fall in love with myself.

I remember reading something written (or said) by Iyanla Vanzant about falling in love with herself. I felt: intrigued, envious, inspired. I realized, yes, I like myself a lot. I sometimes love myself. But I'm not in love with myself. And that's not okay with me.

So - how does one go about falling in love with oneself? I'm still not entirely sure, but even just by being aware that that is my ultimate intention, I've noticed changes. I realized that at heart I actually do love myself - I think I'm fun, and interesting, and pretty, and smart. I like hanging out with myself. I guess I'm kind of dating myself.

I think it was thinking about dating, relationships, etc, that prompted this recent impulse. I've been single for a long time, and pretty fine with that. I've always said and believed that I would much rather be single than in a relationship with someone who isn't a wonderfully, delightfully, astoundingly great match for me. Lately, though, I've been hoping for that wonderfully, delightfully, astoundingly great match to show up. I'm still hoping for it, but at the same time I realized that I don't want to spend my time longing and yearning. I'd rather spend my time recognizing my awesomeness, developing it, and knowing that no matter what happens I'll be more than okay. (I'll be awesome.) Only then will I actually be in a position to be really great in a relationship.

So. Yeah. Falling in love with myself. I've been keeping an eye out for ways to hasten the process, and today, thanks to a meandering blog path started by a suggestion from my sister (my lovely sister), I came across Gala Darling. I'm kind of in love with her. She loves sequins, which aren't really in keeping with this whole minimalist vibe I've got going on, but I am so so glad that there are people out there who love them and wear then and celebrate them. I suppose I can wear metaphorical sequins, if nothing else. Anyways, along with sequins, Gala loves herself. She practices (and preaches) radical self love, which is exactly what it sounds like. Here are 100 ways she thinks we can start doing the same, and an email from one of her readers that touches on the whole relationship/self-love thing.

Throughout the process of thinking about this, and writing about it, I keep coming back to something I know I must have said as a snarky tweenager, "Oh. My. God. She is so in love with herself." It depresses me to think that when I said this, I said it with poison in my voice. With judgment. It feels weird to say, aloud (or in print): I want to be in love with myself. I worry about being judged, about people thinking I'm vain, or selfish, about people thinking that I should focus my love on others (believe me, I want to love all the rest of you/them/us, too). I guess part of this process is letting go of that fear. About finding a place where I am so self-assured, so certain that I will love myself, and take care of myself, and do what I know is best for me no matter what other people think or say (or what I worry they're thinking or saying).

Because I'm the one who has to (gets to!) live with myself and my decisions for the rest of my life. And maybe longer.

Whee.

Really.

Tanita Tikaram

2011-02-21T21:13:00.000-05:00

I so love this.

Media gluttony

2011-02-05T17:08:00.002-05:00

So, my experiment is over. What did I do with my time spent not watching TV, movies and random youtube clips, reading, web browsing?

Cooked a lot. Fresh sage was of particular importance.
Meditated a bunch.
Wrote a lot.
Sang along to Hole's Live Through This while cooking, among other records
Played bananagrams
Did a leetle beet of hot yoga
Made conversation
Made birthday cards
Edited down my wardrobe
Shopped (erm... not sure why this was allowed, although I suppose creating my outward identity via clothing is, indeed, creating)

And now, as with any crash diet, I am responding to its conclusion with a glorious binge. Mainly in the form of signing up for zip.ca, because I found an online coupon for a four month free trial. DVDs! In the mail! I've also got tons of stuff to read and watch saved up, because people have been sending me recommendations throughout. I didn't realize how frequently people recommend things to me. Currently on the list:

Portlandia
The Great Man
Great House
Crazy Sexy Diet
On Writing (haha)
Blue Valentine
Somewhere
The King's Speech
All of the Guardian's top 50 television dramas
The Lotus Eaters

The pile next to my bed (and in my mind) has been growing, and I am so excited to start in on it.

Pleasure Reading

2011-01-28T22:42:00.000-05:00

I went into Chapters today to buy a book for a friend, and while there I stopped at the discounted fiction table. Pretty much any time I see a novel published by Harper Perennial sitting on that $5 table, I buy it. I've had great experiences with that little olive - I see it and I think "smart and enjoyable."

So anyways, In a Perfect World, by Laura Kasischke, was sitting there. I'm not sure what the rules say about reading the backs of books, but given that I invented them, I decided to see what the book was about. It sounded interesting. So I opened it. I'm pretty sure the rules say that reading the inside of books isn't allowed. I really, honestly could not help myself.

It has been so long since I've read anything other than film criticism and recipes. Over three weeks. It feels like a lifetime.

I read the first line. And then the second.

It was like I was inside an awful romance novel, what with the frissons of pleasure that were actually, literally, running up and down my spine. I am so ready to read novels again. So so so ready. I'm off to Montreal tomorrow for a whirlwind reunion three of my beloved Halifax ladies. 29 hours in the city, with a 5 hour train ride on either end. What happens on the train stays on the train?

As far as the actual fasting part of my culture fast (I keep changing what I call it) - it's going well. I've managed to wake up an hour early every morning, so that I can spend an hour writing before I go to work. I don't think I can fully express how wonderful it feels to make the time to find that connection every day. I also went to a hot yoga class for the first time in months. It kicked my ass, but was also great. I've been meditating lots, and cooking lots, and talking lots, and thinking lots.

Oh yeah - it was my birthday yesterday. I cheated on my no restaurants rule (I decided that there are no rules on one's birthday) and went out for chinese food and frozen custard. It was a lovely day. I love birthdays.

Happy weekend.

Shocker

2011-01-20T21:25:00.002-05:00

What's shocking is how little "free time" I actually have. When I started this whole cultural fast I'm on I figured that I would spend a lot of time staring around until I decided on something to fill my time - I've been completely surprised to find out how infrequently this is the case.

Instead I'm realizing how much I usually do double duty - I would cook dinner while watching an episode of a TV show, or surf the Internet (do people still call it that? It sounds so stodgy and somehow old-fashioned) while talking to my roommate. For the past two weeks I've been spending a lot more time focusing on one thing at a time. I think about what to make for dinner, experiment and make things from scratch more, spend more time cleaning up... I spent an hour reorganizing my clothes today. It was great.

I've been trying to wake up early so that I can spend some time writing every morning. I've managed it every day this week. I get up and get dressed as quickly as possible, then stop in a coffee shop somewhere to write for twenty or thirty minutes before I go to work. It's really nice - and I want to keep this up. It will be really nice once I have more space so that I don't need to leave the house - I'll be able to get up and make myself a cup of tea and sit and write.

Speaking of more space, Sally and I are trying to draw the perfect apartment to us. We almost had a place a few months ago, but it fell through when the owner's friends wanted it. The night before we found out we didn't get it, Sally had a dream that we were moving into the perfect apartment, so my sadness was tempered by lots and lots of hope. One of my projects this month is putting together vision boards for our place.

Here's my inspiration for our perfect living room:

And our kitchen:

Sigh - I'm so looking forward to it.

In other news I'm trying to fill my days at work with connection and fun. If I'm going to be there every day I want to be enjoying myself, so I've taken it upon myself to figure out how to do that.

Hope your January is going well and you're finding ways to beat the January Blahs. If you need some inspiration I vote you try to make this absolutely amazing sounding Pistachio Olive Oil Cake, which I've included up there in my vision of the perfect kitchen (from design*sponge - which is where most of the images in the two vision boards are from).

Moments

2011-01-15T12:31:00.000-05:00

Yesterday, on the subway home, there were two Russian women, and for a few minutes I wondered whether they were engaged in some kind of subtle performance. Art. (that is how I typed that, instead of performance art - I'm leaving it in case it's meaningful) They had big bouffants held up with rhinestone covered clips, and they were both wearing fur coats. One of the women carried a large leather Betty Boop purse, also covered in rhinestones, and the other held a snakeskin bag. They were wonderful.

I've cheated, a little bit. Usually it's by accident - I'll be engaged in some kind of sanctioned googling (how to make calamari) and realize after a couple of moments that I've been sidetracked by someone's blog or article. Whoops. But yesterday, it was kind of... on purpose.

I've been thinking a lot about meditation, and so I've found a few guided meditations for falling asleep online (this feels like it should be allowed, so I'm allowing it. As long as I don't sit there listening to guided meditations from the time I get home to the time I fall asleep). The other day I came across this woman talking about meditating for pineal gland activation, and she linked to the 2012 Enigma by David Wilcock, and I just couldn't stop myself from going and watching the video last night. All 90 some-odd minutes of it. It's all about time travel and what's going to happen in 2012 and aliens and Egypt and Stargate and and and. I love conspiracy theories. Yes it's ridiculous and no I'm not committed to believing any of it, but it's so fun to think about.

And watching it gave me some ideas for a project I've been thinking about, so now the key is to go make them into something.

Today I'm meeting Sally at the coffee shop for a study date. It's snowing out.

Why oh why

2011-01-11T18:20:00.002-05:00

Why oh why can't I read blogs?

Withdrawal

2011-01-10T21:06:00.000-05:00

I've got the shakes.

Not really, but I woke up sick this morning. I think I'm going through withdrawal.

I honestly think I am addicted to all of those things I'm currently giving up, in a way. I'm pretty sure they diminish my overall quality of life, but like any addict, I'm simultaneously convinced they make it better. I just can't imagine my life - any life - without books, or movies, or great TV shows. But especially books. But consumed in the quantities I typically imbibe, they can also become a kind of toxin.

I stayed home today, wrote a few pages of stuff that turned into a scene from a screenplay (the other night as we were having random almost drifting to sleep conversations Jessica said, "You should put this conversation into a romantic comedy screenplay. Or a Sofia Coppola-esque movie." My response: "I'm pretty sure any movie I write will be a Sofia Coppola/romantic comedy hybrid."), did some research for an essay I'm writing on I Am Love (the one film I'm allowed to watch. And read about. Like how I fit that in there?), napped, talked with Sally about how awesome our apartment is going to be, talked about how great our days are going to be tomorrow, and, now, blogged. And boiled eggs to take to work for lunches.

Overall things are going fine. I get frustrated, because sometimes it feels like I will do this for a month and have nothing to show for it. I get impatient with myself, and want for everything to come together all at once, like magic. I want the muse to show up and result in a fit of inspiration and productivity, rather than these sort of half ideas that I have to try to fit into something cohesive and hopefully beautiful. But all I really want from this experience is to get into the habit of making things, so that later on I can achieve some kind of balance.

Getting excited and making things

2011-01-08T21:48:00.001-05:00

Lately my mantra has been something more along the lines of: Relax and watch TV. I hung this poster next to my desk at work, but every day when I leave work I'm thinking something along the lines of "I can't wait to go home and watch (insert latest TV show obsession here - lately it's been the Good Wife)." Or I get out from in front of one computer and sit in front of another, losing countless hours to the wonders of the Internet. And I love the Internet, you know I do, but sometimes you just need to get out and do something.

I brought a few of my books home from Vancouver with me, notably The War of Art. My friend Claire recommended this book to me a couple of summers ago, when I was back in Vancouver feeling bored and lethargic, unable to do the things I wanted to do. Mostly, write. I've always wanted to write. I've always written, actually - and still do: blogs, journals, random notes on the world. But only very rarely do I turn these notes into formal... creations. So I brought this book all about conquering your inner creative demon - resistance - back with me, and on Thursday morning I tucked it into my bag to read on the streetcar on the way to work.

When I pulled the book out of my bag, I realized something: reading about being creative is not the solution. If anything, reading about being creative is part of the problem. I've spent a long time claiming that every creator needs a fallow period, and that all of the consuming that I've been doing - the movie marathons and stacks of books and meandering paths through the Internets - has been so that ultimately I will reach a point of glorious creativity. That I will fill up the cup of my life until finally it overflows, and all of the ideas I've had will rush out, so many perfectly formed stories and screenplays and novels and songs. That eventually I will dance around huge green fields with rainbows (yes, multiple rainbows) in the sky and streams of creation shooting from my fingertips like Jubilee's fireworks.

I think I've been deluding myself.

I think that in order to create great things you might actually need to... try.

So I'm going to do something radical.

I'm going to try. I'm not giving myself a choice. I'm cutting out everything else I would otherwise be doing.

No TV. No movies. No books. No Internet (well, little bits of Internet. For specific things. Like how to cook basmati rice. But no doodling around the Internet for hours like I usually do). And no restaurants. Because I'm tired of consuming, and I want to spend some time creating. I'm allowed to do anything active - write, draw, play games, sing, dance, cook, talk... I'm still debating as to whether doing crosswords is allowed. We'll see how desperate I get.

Oh - listening to music is allowed. Because it doesn't feel the same.

I decided all of this on Thursday morning, in a burst of what some might call inspiration and others might call folly. It's not something I spent much time thinking about, and if I had I might have decided against the idea. When I got home from work that night I looked around, feeling a little bit lost. I cleaned the apartment. I made dinner. I fell asleep waiting for my roommate to get home from Vancouver late that night, because I didn't have anything to occupy my attention.

I'm on day three of my experiment. I don't think the depth of it has hit me. I have noticed that I take more time with the things I do, and that I'm listening to my body a little bit more.

I've spent a lot of time thinking about how I'm going to fill my days. So far I'm planning on learning how to shuffle cards properly, doing some gluten free baking (this life diet coincides with a post-Vancouver/Christmas detox), writing, finding a new craft to try, having band practices with Sally, making a stop motion fashion film, writing some haiku, and all kinds of exciting things. I'll probably blog about it (because blogging is allowed - yay). I'm currently in the hopeful, sort of excited stage, which is interspersed with moments of bewilderment.

Many moments of bewilderment.

&s

2010-12-18T10:20:00.001-05:00

Have we talked about how much I love ampersands? I feel like we must have, because I love them so much. The curves. The replacement of a whole word with a single symbol/letter/figure thing. The fact that I can spell my name with one (&ge). The possibility inherent in the word "and".

I'm not the only one. One of my favourite blogs is is ampersandampersand.tumblr.com, "a blog celebrating the beauty of the ampersand" by posting a different example every day. Here are three of my recent favourites:

Two bands

2010-12-05T20:35:00.000-05:00

Two bands I've been listening to a lot lately are Florence and the Machine and The XX.

Mmmmmmmmmmm.

2010-12-03T22:30:00.001-05:00

I stopped at Clafouti on my way to work this morning, because I decided to celebrate Friday by finally trying one of their croissants (I had tried to get one on a Saturday once, but I got there at about 11 am and they were sold out). When I arrived I decided to celebrate by trying two of their croissants - I bought the chocolate almond and the cinnamon sugar, and then I cut them in half when I got to work. I expected to prefer the chocolate, but the cinnamon sugar was so so so good - essentially a butter croissant with a thin layer of cinnamon and sugar spread on the inside of the pastry before it was rolled.

Yum.

Happy Friday to me and to you.

Blogging more, work, and dreams

2010-12-02T19:51:00.000-05:00

Dear diary,

I promise to write more here. Mostly because I really feel like I need to have something to mark the transition from work life to real life. Life life. Because I've learned that it's possible for me to be a workaholic. Who knew? I'm almost three weeks into the new job and I've had a massive problem letting go of work when I leave for the day. I think and ponder and stress. I think it's mostly the fact that it's a steep learning curve, and I really want to be good at what I do - the transition from novice to expert is uncomfortable for me. But anyways - I am really really trying (and beginning to succeed) to leave work at work. But I want something to mark that transition. I've been walking home a lot, but it's starting to get cold. So I think blogging, even just finding something interesting to share, is a good way to make that transition back into my life beyond work.

I finally bought a bed (I've been sleeping on an air mattress for the past four months). And by bed I mean futon mattress that is currently on the floor. I'm not so far away from my student days (and indeed, probably just between them, knowing me) that I've moved on to actual mattresses on bed frames. I've had interesting dreams since I bought it. The first night I dreamed that I was in an acting class with Woody Allen and he loved me and was going to cast me in all of his movies.

Tonight I'm listening to Rachael Cantu and baking potatoes. Yum.

Will write more soon. Promise.

Have I told you lately that I love Sheezer?

2010-10-25T16:06:00.000-04:00

Like, a lot.

Seriously. Sally and I spent last night at our band practice singing an excellent rendition of Jolene and fangirling over Sheezer. I really really want that t-shirt.

I'm going out of town this weekend, otherwise I would so be at their show on Friday night, swooning in the front row.

A photo of a beet and thoughts on other people's thoughts on life

2010-10-18T12:56:00.000-04:00

I fell in love with this beet while preparing Thanksgiving dinner.

In other news -

My favourite piece of advice from Milton Glazer's 10 Things I Have Learned, via Keri Smith:

Some people are toxic. Avoid them.

It is not necessarily true that the same person will be toxic or nourishing in every relationship, but the combination of any two people in a relationship produces toxic or nourishing consequences. And the important thing that I can tell you is that there is a test to determine whether someone is toxic or nourishing in your relationship with them. Here is the test: You have spent some time with this person, either you have a drink or go for dinner or you go to a ball game. It doesn’t matter very much but at the end of that time you observe whether you are more energised or less energised. Whether you are tired or whether you are exhilarated. If you are more tired then you have been poisoned. If you have more energy you have been nourished. The test is almost infallible and I suggest that you use it for the rest of your life.

Another great piece of thought/advice from the Keri Smith post that linked to this (which resonates with me as a blogger and a human being):

as a teacher you are always mining the world for content, things you can use in class, things to share, and it creates a kind of bond with the people you are sharing with because you are always excited to bring something to them that you think is interesting or related to what you are teaching. what is somewhat difficult is that while you are in it there is no real gauge for how you are doing. how do you know if you are reaching someone? if you are a good teacher, some of what you are teaching might not sink in for years. I suppose you just give them all you have and release all attachment to outcome. Isn’t that how it is with all important things in your life? Parenting, art, relationships, etc.

Yep. Good rule for life - give all you have and release all attachment to outcome.

2010-10-06T12:46:00.000-04:00

Think of what we've come to. It is one of the great testaments to the intellectual—and moral, and spiritual—poverty of American society that it makes its most intelligent young people feel like they're being self-indulgent if they pursue their curiosity. You are all told that you're supposed to go to college, but you're also told that you're being "self-indulgent" if you actually want to get an education. Or even worse, give yourself one. As opposed to what? Going into consulting isn't self-indulgent? Going into finance isn't self-indulgent? Going into law, like most of the people who do, in order to make yourself rich, isn't self-indulgent? It's not OK to play music, or write essays, because what good does that really do anyone, but it is OK to work for a hedge fund. It's selfish to pursue your passion, unless it's also going to make you a lot of money, in which case it's not selfish at all.

From What Are You Going to Do With That, an essay by William Deresiewicz. The man, I must say, has a point.

Young Bjork (=love)

2010-09-26T22:49:00.001-04:00

I somehow ended up watching all of these videos of young Bjork tonight.

They were just entrancing (this one is just audio).

She's so cool. (Way to state the obvious.)

It gets better

2010-09-26T11:18:00.000-04:00

I am totally in love with Dan Savage's new project, It Gets Better.

A month in pictures

2010-09-25T22:49:00.000-04:00

And some words.

Toronto is going well. It's so nice to be working. I saw my first TIFF screening. I was so high on the experience that I can't tell whether or not I really liked the film. I went to MOCCA (yay for free art). I'm too cheap to get on the subway so I walk pretty much everywhere. On days I remember my camera this means I get some fun pictures.

In chronological order here are photos of the last month in my life.

One of the weird little spots by the waterfront I was talking about:

And a golden building:

I went back to the odd "beach". This time I sat down with Sally.

We watched a guy and a girl flying a kite. I tried to surreptitiously take their photo and ended up with an accidentally blurred photograph à la my dad (although he does it on purpose).

Sally was craving salad so I yelped "salad in Toronto" and we ended up in Kensington at Hibiscus, a vegetarian and gluten free café. We shared a delicious salad bowl and a crepe with pear, brie and walnuts. It was really good.

Walking down the street one day I admired this woman's hat. It reminds me of Darth Vader.

Today I walked over to Roncesvalles with Alex. We picked up Pączki (polish donuts) from Granowska's Bakery and delicious Americanos (Americani?) from Lit Espresso Bar.

I got one filled with plum jam and one filled with sweet cheese. I've been trying really hard (and usually succeeding) to eat stuff that's fairly low on the glycemic index, but man I love good donuts every so often.

Then we walked home along the water.

I'm glad there's water here.

I'm also glad it's fall. I love the days it rains, although I need better shoes.

Overnight Steel Cut Oats

2010-09-21T21:00:00.000-04:00

I am currently obsessed with this recipe. I make it a little bit differently (the original recipe sounds delicious, but I don't actually have most of the ingredients). Note that the recipe is for about 3 or 4 servings. So, I take a quarter to a third cup of steel cut oats and a tablespoon or so of shredded unsweetened coconut, then put it in a bowl just submerged in water and a bit of milk. I sometimes add raisins or dried currents. Then I put it in the fridge. In the morning I add sunflower seeds, ground flax, and chopped almonds, with a bit of sugar or honey and a bit more milk. If I'm not in a hurry I heat it up on the stove first. I eat this pretty much every day at the moment, and it is so fast and filling and delicious.

Is this us?

2010-09-09T17:47:00.001-04:00

I've been a little bit busy, settling into my new job (Working is fun. Unemployment is overrated. I'm such a nerd.) and new city. I promise to try to have more than the sound of wind whistling through here up soon.

Via Cat and Girl.

When people say nice things about you

2010-08-26T16:23:00.001-04:00

My most recent (wonderful) boss recently had to fill out a reference form when I was interviewing for a job. He wrote:

Ange is best suited for an occupation which enables her to encounter and engage with an incredible amount of information, which she can then share in creative and helpful ways with others which help them to discover something new about themselves and the world in which they live.

The job I was interviewing for would not have been the job that he was describing, and his words made me feel completely comfortable with the choice I made that it was decidedly not the job for me. I loved that he could see this in me. Thanks to him I now I have a very clearly expressed objective: that job. I'm looking forward to it.

Marion Cotillard

2010-08-26T00:13:00.003-04:00

I stumbled upon this video of Marion Cotillard while perusing The Debonaire today. Marion Cotillard and I look similar in a way that makes it feel sort of surreal to watch this. Not like, Oh mon dieu, I look exactly like this mega-gorgeous film star, but like we could be cousins, or sisters or something. She smiles with her mouth closed and gets sort of squinty in the same way I do. So, in what seems to be a form of narcissism, I completely adore her.

I especially love the way she mixes up "ed" and "ing" endings, so she calls herself "confusing" rather than "confused." It makes me wonder what kind of mistakes I make in French, without even noticing. I hope that when (not if) I next go to France and make new French friends they find my linguistic missteps at least a little bit charming.

And a little clip of her in French (on filmmaking):

It's funny how people's voices change depending on the language they're speaking. Et j'adore ça aussi.

Not lost

2010-08-24T15:52:00.000-04:00

I'm not lost exactly, I'm just not entirely sure where I'm going. The thing that's keeping me from feeling lost, I think, is knowing that so many others are where I am, or have been.

Reading this piece on being lost by Penelope Trunk made me feel like a member of a tribe, all of us bumping around in the world, opening doors, looking around corners and lifting up the edges of things to see what's underneath. Looking, and hopefully finding.

My favourite bit from the post is about the importance of art: "When you are lost is when you need art most." This is so true for me. Finding and reading Where the God of Love Hangs Out last week immediately pulled me out of the weird mood I was in and connected me to the feeling of awe that comes with encountering really amazing art. It reminded of what's possible.

Other art I want to experience:
I Am Love
The second season of Nurse Jackie (yes, television can be art. Pretty much anything can be art)
An Ontario peach (in keeping with my stance that everything can be art, I most certainly believe that food can be art. I think that food can nurture those same places in us as do songs with perfect, husky harmonies and novels with characters so real they feel like they're alive inside us, places far more important than our bellies)
Everything at the Art Gallery of Ontario
Watching people everywhere

And, oh yes, I'm creating. Sometimes blogging doesn't feel like it should count, but I'm counting it. I've also started doing morning pages again, in the hopes that I will let some of the stories that have been pushing their way forward actually come out.

Life beside the CN Tower (which I always want to call the Space Needle)

2010-08-17T19:17:00.004-04:00

The CN Tower from my window, pixelated by the screen door.

And in the morning, in the fog.

I had some kind of flu-type thing over the weekend, and I just lay in bed sleeping, and when I was too tired to sleep I watched TV on my computer (I finally started watching Modern Family. That is a great show). I think that my body just gave up after I spent a few days freaking out about jobs and possible futures and where I should be and what I should be doing.

Rest, my body said. Stop it. Look what you're doing to yourself.

Yesterday I felt about 70% normal. This morning I was at about 85%. So off I went, into the world. The weather today is beautiful, clear and hot but not crazyhot like I've almost gotten used to. I explored my new neighbourhood a bit. I'm currently staying right down by the Toronto harbourfront, which is a sort of odd little area. I was sad that I didn't have my camera with me, because there were so many weird little nooks. Odd little green hills and spans of fake beach with little yellow beach umbrellas.

I should have sought out the water earlier. It's so nice to sit and watch an expanse of water sparkle, even if it's not the Atlantic or the Pacific.

After the water I walked up to the library. I joined the library last week, and I've already been up three times. Today, while browsing, I came across a new collection of stories by Amy Bloom, one of my favourite authors. So I decided to do one of those soul affirming things I somehow hadn't done in too long. I bought myself a steamed milk with hazelnut, found a comfy chair, and sat and read. I've read the first half, and the book (Where the God of Love Hangs Out) is as wonderful as anything she's written. I cried already. I hardly ever cry when I'm reading.

A trip to the water + a substantial sitdown with a good book = majorly rejuvenating.

I think a lot in word based mathematical equations lately.

Toronto has been up and down. Not literally, it's actually pretty flat (although the simcoe wave deck is another of those odd waterfront nooks I discovered today). But it's been very weird not having a job, not having money to explore, and still trying to make a connection. I felt absolutely called to come here, and just followed that blindly, figuring that when I got here I'd see why. Now I'm just kind of waiting to see what happens, feeling altogether out of my element. I know that I need to give it a bit of time to find my place, but that is a sort of scary place to be, especially when there are people around me, people that I know love me, who are nudging me to just grow up and join the real world already. I am, I swear - I'm just doing it my way.

I really am a part of that thing, that generation Y (ahem) thing that they talk about, where I know that my job is going to take up a huge part of my life, so rather than trying for work life balance, which sounds like a joke, I'm aiming for work life unity. A strong sense of community is probably the biggest thing I'm looking for. I was lucky enough to have that in my past two jobs, and am looking for it again. So for now I'm taking a job in a coffee shop (I actually got an awesome vibe based on the interview), while I try to build a career (and a life) combining my dedication to service and to community with my extremely wonderful creative and organizational skills.

So yes. This is my generation Y post. Maybe I should write a graphic novel about the whole thing.

The high life in Toronto

2010-08-01T13:09:00.000-04:00

The view from J's (and soon to be, at least briefly, my) balcony.

First thoughts on Toronto

2010-07-31T02:30:00.005-04:00

My first text to Alex, upon arriving: "So many hipsters on bicycles. And bricks."

Today I spent my first day in Toronto walking around alone. (I live here now. This is brand new.) I bought a perfect two dollar latte at JetFuel. I walked to the closest library branch to find out what I will need to get a library card. I went to the big chain bookstore and bought myself a little map book thing.

Downtown smelled at first like a mix of chocolate and people, and then a few blocks later it was a very warm nutmeg smell.

I passed a sign in a window that said: Be motivated in life by desire, not fear.

It made me feel good.

Halfway through writing this post, I happened upon this video, a poem (a collaboration between lovelies Tanya Davis and Andrea Dorfman):

I am a little bit in love with it.

I am not someone who is averse to alone, or who associates alone with loneliness. But lately I've been around people a lot. So today, being all by myself from the time I woke up felt slightly strange, especially being in a place that I don't know. That poem is a lovely reminder that I can cherish these moments. I get the chance to explore my new city, to be with my impressions, to notice things and stop and enjoy them and have them be mine for a while.

Maybe I will take myself to a movie soon. Going to the movies alone is one of my favourite things. Maybe I will wait until a day gets so hot that I can't bear to be outside. Or maybe I will go when the sun is shining but there is still a cool breeze, and I won't even feel guilty, because a dark movie theatre is an amazing place to be, no matter what is going on outside.

It is very exciting to move to a new city, sight unseen. I keep forgetting this is the second time I've done it, although it feels completely different, because when I moved to Halifax everything was in place before I got there. I had a job, a place to live, and a school to go to. This time everything is free and possible and nothing is certain, but things keep falling into place and I just keep going, trusting. It makes me feel alive and young and possible and a bit timid but also brave and hopeful and glad.

This city is prettier than I expected. Greener.

It is different.

I was craving a place to explore, and now I have a whole city full of tastes I've never tasted, sounds I've never heard, people I've never met, and on. I am welcoming Toronto recommendations (indeed, I am soliciting them). Tell me about your favourite Toronto place, if you have one.

Before I got here I listened to this song over and over, mostly because there is a line that mentions Toronto:

I really love that video - it feels like summer. And I am a sucker for lone trumpets.

The Decemberists performing Crazy on You.

2010-07-19T15:06:00.001-04:00

A friend of mine sent me a link to this video with the comment that the girl on the left reminded him an awful lot of me. This is a giant compliment, as she is adorable and obviously awesome. Apparently it's Shara Worden, who sang the role of the Queen on the Decemberists' The Hazards of Love. I didn't go see them when they toured for that album, and I'm still a bit sad about it. This video of her singing the Queen's Rebuke just reminds me, but it is so good that it's worth the pain.

Also, I want her haircut.

New blog

2010-07-18T12:42:00.003-04:00

So it's pretty brand new, and currently only has two posts up (one of which you've already seen), but I am super psyched about my new blog, Cahiers du cinémode. Go look.

In Ottawa

2010-07-11T12:18:00.001-04:00

Walking in Montreal

2010-07-04T00:39:00.003-04:00

I tried a macaron for the first time, from boutique point g. At first I was skeptical about paying $1.50 for a tiny piece of vibrantly-hued sweetness. I should not have been. I got the "abricot - thé noir" flavour. It was delicious. I didn't decide that I needed to document the wonderfulness that is a macaron until I was almost finished.

I am constantly coming across colour combinations that make me stop.

Like pink and grey.

It is beautiful.

The Big Library

2010-07-03T01:26:00.000-04:00

And so begins my summer of wandering.

I left Halifax on Monday for good (or at least for goodish). I'm slowly winding my way back to Vancouver for August, but after that everything is up in the air. I'm craving adventure and newness: a big city and new faces after two years ensconced in tiny, loving Halifax.

Currently in Montreal. I was welcomed on Tuesday night by homemade paella and my favourite beer, and since then I've been reveling in one of my favourite cities, mostly going from delicious food to delicious food, with lots of walking between mouthfuls.

This morning I was taken to la Grande Bibliothèque (or, as I call it, the Big Library). It is gorgeous, and full of bright spots to sit and read (or write, as I did). We went straight to the 4th floor, the film and music section, where I found row after row after row of CDs and DVDs and books.

I love her. In the CD stacks.

"Can I please live here?" I asked. I want to set up a bed in the stacks and sit up late at night screening the thousands of movies I have yet to see, randomly selecting them from the shelves. I want to go through the music collection, listening to each and every album in turn, discovering new bits of world. I want towering piles of books scattered throughout the library, organized according to my own personal system (possibly by colour).

I am currently a little bit homeless. Anytime anyone asks me, "So, where do you live?" I sigh a little and smile. "That is complicated," I say. Or simply, "Nowhere" with a laugh. I'm looking for potential homes, and finding them everywhere.

Why am I not there right now?

2010-06-24T16:29:00.001-04:00

Um, food film festival? Being a part of this is my new life's calling.

photo by flickr user EssG

Discovered via Bust.

Home

2010-06-23T19:11:00.002-04:00

So I'm back.

2010-06-20T17:04:00.007-04:00

Université Ste-Anne is in the middle of almost nowhere. The school is right next to the ocean, on a big span of land with beach and woods. The largest wooden church in North America is right next door. It has a tall spire that you can see from anywhere nearby. Across the road you will find a cemetary, a credit union, and a small shack that sells ice cream and various fried marine animals.

It was glorious. All of it.

The ocean and the sky and the littlest bit of sun. On the last day I sat by the water and wondered why I hadn't gone there every day.

I found my tribe within the first three days. A little band of us formed and we proceeded to spend all of our time together.

The grass, where we spent 75% of our time, and the cafétéria, where we spent the remainder.

It felt exactly like high school. Like the best of high school, sitting with my rad friends talking about zines and haircuts and movies. En français.

Also, summer camp. I've never actually been to summer camp, but I'm pretty sure that this was exactly what it is like. All the fast friendships and midnight makeout sessions and rainy days watching comedies from the 90s and five week couplings and stolen cookies. And the crying on the last day. With more beer.

On the day we visited smuggler's cove the stairs down to the beach were boarded up. I think it was better that way.

One day we took a bus trip to a couple of historical sites that are important to Acadian history. We got on the bus at 8 am and didn't have time to get coffee. I hoped and hoped during the two hour drive to the first stop, Port-Royal, that there would be somewhere to buy a coffee. There wasn't. I trudged around a bit, fake (real) whining, until I got into the spirit of the reconstructed French colony. You could wander in and around all of the buildings. Pick things up. Try out the beds.

Lauren. With a gun.

Luke and Blaine in bed.

Me in the window. Smiling. Quel surprise.

It was pretty fun.

We then got on the bus for another two hours. Again, I hoped and hoped that there would be coffee. We got off the bus at Grand Pré (the site of the deportation of the Acadians from Nova Scotia) and I went up to the information desk to ask if there were somewhere to buy one. Nope.

So, instead of going into the park, a few of us headed off down the road, in search of a café someone had seen. It was only a few minutes away, and when we got there we had one of my favourite meals ever. The staff at the café didn't speak french, so we switched back to English for an hour and a half. We ate sandwiches and drank coffee and finished by sharing a slice of coconut cream pie. The fact that I hadn't eaten or drunk anything since getting up and getting on the bus made all of it that much better, and speaking English felt vaguely illicit and, more than anything else, comfortable.

Not that I didn't love speaking French. I did love speaking French. Most of the time. I made a very concerted effort at the beginning of the session, and I avoided all English music, all English everything. I journalled in French. I spoke in French. I was amazed at how quickly I started thinking in French.

And then I realized how very nearly impossible it is to have a deep, meaningful, emotional conversation with someone in a language that is not your own. I found people at Sainte-Anne that I loved, and respected, and found enormously interesting, and I wanted to say more to them than "Wow, this weather is amazing," "I love when there's pesto in the salad bar," "I like your sweater," and "Want to watch a movie?" So I caved, a little. Not a lot. But I did have a couple of very important, wonderful late night conversations in English.

I needed them.

I'm still a little in denial that it's over. I got back to Halifax yesterday morning, and every time I walk down the street I think I see my newest favourite people. The first bus back to civilization left Ste-Anne at 1:30 am on Friday night/Saturday morning, when almost everyone was at least a little bit drunk (pompette, rather). I thanked modern life for making it so easy for new, awesome people to find their ways into my life, but mostly I cursed it for making it so easy for them to go home again afterwards.

Because honestly (and yes, this is going to be sappy, because I am sappy), my favourite part was the people. I feel so lucky that pretty much everywhere I go I find lovely, funny, smart, awesome, inspiring people. Wow, so much earnestness there. I better make up for it with some cynicism in the near future. Must. Watch. Heathers. Now.

Not really. I'm alright with love.

Le dernier jour

2010-06-18T11:07:00.000-04:00

Il y a quelques mots français que j'aime beaucoup. Mon mot préfére a ce moment c'est pompette. Ça veut dire "tipsy". Je pense que j'utiluserai même quand je parlerai anglais.

À nos amours (or: I want to dress like a Parisian teenager circa 1983)

2010-06-14T21:42:00.002-04:00

Last night we watched À nos amours, a French film by Maurice Pialat made in 1983. Sandrine Bonnaire (who I loved in Vagabond) stars as Suzanne, a 15-year-old Parisian who "embarks on a sexual rampage in order to separate herself from her overbearing, beloved father, ineffectual mother, and brutish brother." Or so says the DVD case. Honestly, I was able to understand little more than the barest skeleton of the story. I didn't even realize her brother was her brother until the film was almost over. Still, I was in love with the film from the first frames. It is absolutely gorgeous. It is one of those rare films that I wanted to watch again immediately as the credits came up (preferably with subtitles).

While the whole film was more than amazingly composed, the costuming was complete outfit porn. I was plunged into a state of aching lust. Coral red and teal and grey and blue and perfectly loose t-shirts with flared skirts and heels and geometric patterns and cuffed jeans and oh oh oh.

I knew I was a goner when Suzanne appeared in this perfect, simple summer day outfit:

Then came the one shouldered striped black and white top with a flared black skirt and white sandals. I couldn't get a very good shot of this one, but trust me:

Here is the outfit Suzanne wears most of the time. I love cardigans. I especially love this cardigan. And a grey-on-grey striped t-shirt with a drapey grey miniskirt? Um, YES:

This was one of my favourite moments in the film. And my favourite pair of shoes:

I may have said something like "oh mon dieu" when Suzanne appeared in this outfit. It was mostly because of the red boots. You can only see a tiny sliver of them in this shot:

The red boots are more visible here. I also love her friend's outfit. That tulip skirt. The deep scoop neck. And the french mannequins:

Okay. I adore this sweater. Teal and coral at THE SAME TIME. With black. Although I would probably wear it with pants. Or at least shorts. But that's just me:

And finally. Forget lust. I am completely and utterly and forever in love with this dress. Love. I don't think a still shot can do this dress justice. You have to see her in it. The print. The simple belt. The perfect little squared pockets. The way the skirt drifts away from her body. The ease. Sigh.

L'amour.

Soirée 50s

2010-06-11T18:08:00.002-04:00

Tonight is la Soirée 50s.

This was just the inspiration I needed. Thanks, Sally.

And, for good measure, from one of my all-time favourite movies:

2010-06-05T14:18:00.008-04:00

Did I ever tell you how much I loved The Book of Dahlia?

I was reminded of it last night while talking to a friend of mine about how much I wish I were Jewish (and how I'm secretly - or not so secretly - convinced that I actually am, somehow*). I connect so strongly to Jewish culture. Last spring I put my bibliographic search skills to work poring over the public library catalogue to find novels with Jewish protagonists. I found The Book of Dahlia (among others, rest assured. I'm a fantastic librarian.).

Dahlia is a chronic underachiever. The 29-year-old spends her time smoking a lot of pot and occasionally, vaguely considering grad school while watching old movies on TV. Then she has a grand mal seizure and is diagnosed with brain cancer. Yup. The novel is hilarious and smart and dark and sad and awesome. Love. LOVE.

*Seriously. Just after Dahlia gets out of the hospital after being diagnosed, she and her parents head to Barnes & Noble: "This is what Jews do when the shit hits the fan. Go find books." How am I not Jewish?

(This post in English brought to you by a rainy day where I really felt like expressing myself with some semblance of clarity and intelligence.)

Midi dans le salon de la duchesse

2010-06-02T19:03:00.000-04:00

J'ai oublié que Keren Ann a plusieurs chansons françaises. J'aime celui-ci.

Deux choses que j'aime

2010-05-30T17:19:00.000-04:00

Les chansons francaises,

et l'animation stop motion.

Via Mashable.

Ce soir

2010-05-26T19:12:00.001-04:00

Radio Radio vont performer a Ste-Anne. Woo.

A la bibliotheque

2010-05-20T19:21:00.002-04:00

Alors j'ai trouver la bibliotheque. Quel surprise. J'ai empreunter:
Ni d'Eve ni d'Adam
Casque D'or
Camille Claudel
Caché
Stupeur et Tremblements
Fucking Åmål

Un cahier d'exercise jaune

2010-05-14T13:50:00.000-04:00

I decided to attempt to keep a journal in French while I'm doing the French program, so yesterday I went to the art store to buy a new journal. I wandered around and nothing was quite right, until I found this adorable marigold Semikolon notebook. It's small (about 5x8) and has about 160 pages. The pages are lined, which is the only downside (I really love writing on unlined pages), but the colour and size and adorableness of it win. I also bought three of my favourite pen, the Pilot G2 (I prefer the 5mm, but all they had was the 7) two in black, and, for something new and exciting and different, one in turquoise.

I'm interested to see how this whole writing in French thing will go. I think that maybe my tenuous hold on the language will let me experiment a bit more, and maybe I'll end up with all kinds of dreamy, poetic journal entries. Otherwise there might be lots of, "Mon cahier est jaune. J'aime mon cahier jaune." kind of stuff. We'll see.

J'aime mon cahier jaune.

This is probably my last blog entry before I leave for my program, so... a bientôt.

Colour (or color)

2010-05-11T14:37:00.000-04:00

Image from Color Collective

Do you want to know how much I love Color Collective? To the moon and back. So simple: beautiful images distilled to perfect colour palettes. I love encountering these small bursts of colour, energy and inspiration when I go through my blog feeds in the morning.

Je cherche la musique Francaise.

2010-05-10T14:03:00.001-04:00

In less than a week I will be completely immersed in French. Eep.

The Canadian government has a program through which students can do a five week french (or English, if they are a native French speaker) immersion program. Next Sunday I will be making my way to l’Université Sainte-Anne, a small French language university in Pointe-de-l'Église (Church Point), Nova Scotia.

A few weeks ago I received my "passport", a little blue book filled with information. And rules. Until that point I hadn't really thought about what French immersion actually meant. Sure, I realized I would be speaking French exclusively, but there was a line in the passport that made me realize the broader implications. Under the heading Stereo it says, "Portable stereos are permitted, but use headphones to avoid disturbing others or imposing your musical tastes on others. French music must be played at all times. Professeurs and animateurs may check headphones to ensure that English music is not being played."

So I need something to listen to. In French.

The Internet led me (somehow) to my favourite find, Ô Paon, aka Geneviève Castrée. She formerly made music under the name Woelv, and I love that stuff, too. You'll like it if you like slightly weird, haunting vocals and overlapping sounds that make you feel like you're listening to music while drifting underwater in the shallows of a dark ocean.

My friend J recommended Coeur de Pirate, the Montreal-based darling of the francophone (and otherwise) indie scene. And she is indeed darling. I downloaded her album, and while it's short, it's lovely. I also highly recommend listening to her covers of I Kissed a Girl and Umbrella - her voice is gorgeous and a bit smoky, and I love piano-based covers of pop songs.

My friend A then got me into the 60s French girl pop singers à la Françoise Hardy (LOVE the audience in this one).

And that's where I currently stand. I have a small selection of girl singers to listen to (people have recommended other stuff, but these are the ones I've liked best. I guess that's not surprising given what I listen to most in English). I'm definitely still on the lookout for some more selections, so if anyone has any recommendations, please send them my way.

Oh, I'm guessing the no English rule applies to blogging, too. I'm aiming to possibly, maybe do some updating en français. We'll see how it goes.

Oh! Also, I am going to need to find some French novels to read. Any thoughts?

And yes, a bit nervous, but très excited.

On figs

2010-05-09T11:56:00.004-04:00

photo by flickr user suttonhoo

I came across a quote from Sylvia Plath's The Bell Jar while reading an article in Vanity Fair about the Barbizon Hotel for Women (where all the brightest young ladies stayed while trying to make their mark on Manhattan, including Ms. Plath when she interned at Mademoiselle in 1953):

I saw my life branching out before me like the green fig tree in the story. From the tip of every branch, like a fat purple fig, a wonderful future beckoned and winked. One fig was a husband and a happy home and children, and another fig was a famous poet and another fig was a brilliant professor, and another fig was Ee Gee, the amazing editor, and another fig was Europe and Africa and South America, and another fig was Constantin and Socrates and Attila and a pack of other lovers with queer names and offbeat professions, and another fig was an Olympic lady crew champion, and beyond and above these figs were many more figs I couldn't quite make out. I saw myself sitting in the crotch of this fig tree, starving to death, just because I couldn't make up my mind which of the figs I would choose. I wanted each and every one of them, but choosing one meant losing all the rest, and, as I sat there, unable to decide, the figs began to wrinkle and go black, and, one by one, they plopped to the ground at my feet.

Now, I swear I'm not depressed, but this passage so perfectly sums up that feeling of overwhelming possibility that comes with being young and jobless (or rather, job-free as I like to call it). I could do anything - but which anything should I try? And what will I be missing out on if I do?

I am such a teenage girl sometimes.

Really, I know what I want. To be a film librarian/screenwriter/novelist/blogger/TV host/epicure/kind person.

The Order of Myths

2010-05-06T12:22:00.002-04:00

The men's faces are covered by masks. The man on the left, the one speaking, wears a satiny costume. His mask is lacquer shiny, pale, with rosy cheeks and a wide mouth. He looks like an overgrown porcelain doll. "We have no trouble with the blacks," he says. "The blacks and the whites get along fine." The old man next to him, his eyes covered by a silver mask tucked under his baseball cap, stares mutely ahead.

This was the moment that I became completely captivated by Margaret Brown's 2007 documentary The Order of Myths.

In 1703, 15 years before New Orleans was even founded, Mobile, Alabama was home to the first Mardi Gras in America. Over 300 years later the celebration is still central to the city's cultural life and identity. Or, perhaps, identities. Mobile's Mardi Gras is racially segregated. Two organizations, one white and one black, mount dazzling, separate events.

Brown's film navigates the jewel laden, liquor soaked phenomenon that is Mardi Gras in Mobile, exploring both sets of traditions. The energy of Mardi Gras suffuses every frame, and a current of tension is never far from the surface. Every moment is significant. Every gesture, and every slip of the tongue, feels weighty. Brown shows us a vibrant, complicated part of American life. I sat rapt, pulled into the narrative, until the film's final moments. And when it ended, I wanted nothing more than for it to keep going. I also felt the intense need to try a moonpie. Apparently this is a completely normal reaction.

Taut, intricate, beautiful, fascinating.

9/10.

Becoming a music nerd: step one

2010-05-03T14:08:00.000-04:00

My lovely friend J, knowing my indie music anxieties, forwarded me a link to this guide to hard to pronounce band names. Perfect. My hair will be asymmetrical in no time.

The xx

2010-04-27T23:52:00.001-04:00

photo by flickr user Kmeron

I've been craving newness lately. It's in the air: springtime. Possibility. New haircuts, new clothes, new cities (possibly). New music.

I use the word new with some hesitation. Nothing makes me feel more behind the times than the music scene. I'm aware of the fact that the youngest, coolest people will blow their bangs up in the air (apparently my vision of young, cool people was formed in 1988 and will never change) and sigh, "Whatever. I've been into the xx since I saw them at [insert hipster name]'s party in [insert London neighbourhood I've never heard of] ages ago."

I admit it. I'm a little envious of those people. Part of me really wants to be a music nerd, but I've only ever been able to peer in from the outside. I stand at the edge of the circle and rock back and forth on my heels, nodding in fake recognition when the cute girls and boys in glasses and tight pants name check obscure Norwegian pop bands from the 60s that were "so influential." This is why I love the Internet: I can now run home (...I want a smartphone) and look up whatever random band (movie, asian snack food) was being discussed.

I read something (somewhere) recently about bands someone (somewhere) saw at Coachella. They gushed a little bit about the xx, and I was intrigued. Often I'm disappointed when I look up bands other people gush about, but within half a second I was hooked, and I've been listening to nothing else since. (This is the song I started with, and I love this video.) I don't usually love boy-girl back and forth vocals, but I like the way these slightly smoky, subdued voices weave in and out. Minimalist with driving rhythms and good hooks. A little bit moody, but not despairing. Not so much pretty, but gorgeous. Love.

Beautiful things (/I love librarians)

2010-04-23T12:36:00.000-04:00

I am a little bit in love with Hillary Webb's art. Hillary is one of the many (many) creative, lovely librarians-to-be I've met during my studies, and I've been wanting to share her work since the first time I saw it. I've always liked embroidery (my past is littered with unfinished cross-stitch kits), but Hillary's work takes it to a different level. I'm a little fuzzy on the details, but she hand dyes her materials with dyes made of nature (nature! things like marigold, dahlia, black walnut, cochineal and umbilicaria, according to her website). The idea of her collecting little bits of world fills me with this fleeting storybook feeling that I can't exactly pin down, but it's rich and deep and a bit spangly. She then fashions her materials into these lovely studies of shape and colour. Love, Me Boutique in Halifax has recently started carrying Hillary's work, and I'm sure there are other avenues by which it could be purchased, if that's your deal.

I love librarians. And art. And colour. And nature.

Teenage Magazines

2010-04-19T10:33:00.000-04:00

I just remembered my dream from last night (boring I know, wait up). One of my favourite things to do when I was a teenager was to sit in bed with a giant stack of magazines I had already read before and go through them. I would do this over and over again, for hours at a time.

Last night, in my dream, this was what I did. I remember dreamthinking, it would be amazing to have a blog all about old teen magazines. Surprisingly, awake me also thinks this would be a great idea. This was probably inspired by Jezebel recent revisiting Sassy's Dopey Fashion Poses, and I am currently very sad that I dumped (hopefully in an eco-friendly way, as I would have learned from this April 1993 issue) my piles and piles and piles of Seventeen (and Sassy, and YM, and... those were the main ones. Mostly Seventeen and Sassy.). Anyway, I would so love to go through them again. That would be a great day.

Maybe rereading blog posts would give me that same feeling. Probably not.

Bright futures

2010-04-11T20:47:00.001-04:00

Image via definitive touch

Oh, hello.

[blink blink]

I am thisclose to finished my degree. Yeah, that one that I moved to Halifax for almost two years ago.

What?

So I am almost officially a librarian. I don't have a job lined up, per se, but I think librarian is a title like doctor or artist - now that I am one I will be one forever, no matter what my job title actually is.

Speaking of job titles, I'm looking for a job. And as a part of Job Search 2010 I'm thinking I should develop some kind of official, portfolio-esque web presence. I just want to build a pretty simple space online, a my name here kind of thing, where I can showcase some of my talents (of which there are many, and metadata is just one of them), but I'm lacking in an awareness of how exactly to go about doing that. I understand how to get my own domain name. And I know some html, css, etc. But I don't know how to combine the two to end up with an actual space online. I was looking briefly at just using wordpress.com to build a page, but I quickly got frustrated by the fact that I would have to pay more to make any changes to the css, and I wasn't in love with any of the themes as they stood. Plus I'm actually really picky about design, so I'd like to have a little more control/develop something that's a bit more my own. So, if anyone has tips on how to go about getting started, please send them my way. Thank you. I love you.

Also: the closer I get to being a librarian the more drawn I am to classic nerd glasses. The need is almost physical, at this point.

Um, rad.

2010-04-07T16:39:00.003-04:00

This is the best thing I've seen in days (edit: weeks). Also, ever since seeing A Single Man I've been wanting to dress like it's 1962 every day. This didn't help.

She & Him Volume 2

2010-03-25T13:11:00.000-04:00

I'm currently listening to the first song on She & Him's new album Volume 2, which can be heard in its entirety at (on?) NPR. It arrives just in time for sunny days (Halifax has been mostly gorgeous for the past little while - I think it might be a real spring!), although She & Him manages to make me feel sunny even when the world outside isn't. I love the power of pop music.

Currently obsessed with robots

2010-03-24T10:19:00.001-04:00

photo by flickr user NYCArthur

I'm so glad I went to class yesterday morning instead of "accidentally sleeping through my alarm clock" like I thought I might. My prof made the brilliant choice (coinciding nicely with the day we had to fill in her evaluations) to show us TED videos all morning. The videos were, as per usual, engaging and thought-provoking, but I found one particularly inspiring. It was about robots, and about making them seem more human by having them recognize and reflect emotions (and making them look like Einstein or Philip K. Dick). My mind ran to the future, and I started inventing a world, one where my grandchildren come tell me that they are in love with their robots (and I wear powder blue to their weddings). I think that at heart I'm a sci-fi geek who doesn't really read much sci-fi... that needs to change. But I really want stories with heart. Literary fiction with robots. A Tale of Two Cogs, or some such. (After googling, I'm guessing I should start here.)

In a related turn I came across a retweet from Kris Krug about the Cyborg Reconstruction Fund, which led me to explore Amber Case's work as a Cyborg Anthropologist (um, awesome). I've been going on about how we're all already cyborgs for ages, in my own little I don't really know what I'm talking about but look at hearing aids and contact lenses way, so I'm glad there are people out there who can actually put these thoughts into coherent, academia-approved reflections on the world.

As I realized in class yesterday morning, it's amazing how deeply science fiction films have affected me, and to a certain extent I've already thrown up my hands and am just waiting for the day my robot companion turns on me. Somewhere deeper, though, I find this all so inspiring. I'm excited about the future. Oh wait, it's actually the present. Rad.

Happy return of Nurse Jackie day!

2010-03-22T08:05:00.002-04:00

Nurse Jackie is my second favourite show currently on TV (next to Friday Night Lights), and I am so excited for the second season. Which starts today.

Unfortunately I don't have cable, so I will have to wait for some future day to watch, but I wanted to celebrate anyways. And say, if you haven't already watched the first season, DO. And I am a little bit envious of you.

Les petits

2010-03-21T08:55:00.000-04:00

For some reason I was craving this scene the other day.

I'll always be a Truffaut girl, me.

Visiting home with Google Street View

2010-03-11T15:29:00.002-05:00

Ahhhh! Surreal feeling.

I've been longing for Vancouver a little bit lately, especially after what I assumed would be Olympics madness turned out pretty awesome. Springtime is slowly starting to peek out at Halifax, although I'm still skeptical about how long it might stick around. I was so sad last year, arriving back home in May, to find that the cherry blossoms had already come and gone even though the trees were barely budding here on the East coast.

So today I went back home, by way of Google Street View.

There is my house. Ack. Following the arrows down the street actually felt surprisingly real.

I also walked ("walked") along the seawall for a little bit. And looked around downtown.

If only technology had evolved enough to let me hear and smell and taste (selectively, of course). I could definitely go for some Japadog right now.

Confidence aka the decision

2010-02-27T10:29:00.002-05:00

One part 1920s Parisienne, one part monk, one part four-year-old, and one part fashion. I love it. Oddly enough, I feel eminently more feminine with short hair. And free. And stylish. If only springtime would arrive so I could pair it with cute dresses, and stop ruining the effect with my stompy snow and salt-stained winter boots.

I also decided to try the recent tip I found via A Cup of Jo on how to look confident in pictures (hint, it involves a mysterious chemical food product). I think it works, especially when combined with taking 8000 pictures and sorting through them meticulously.

I know where I'm going!

2010-02-23T09:56:00.002-05:00

It's "reading week" here at Dalhousie, and I have been reading. I've also been watching. Last night I made myself one of my favourite pastas (minus the cheese and butter & plus a couple of soft fried eggs on top) and sat down to watch one that I picked up at the library on a whim, I Know Where I'm Going! (1945). I loved it, but it served to remind me that I really really really want to have a screening room some day. A big screen and wonderful sound and me in the dark with everything that could possibly distract me taken away. For some reason I had a really hard time concentrating, and I hate the fact that I paused the movie twice to check things online. Ugh, me. Because this movie was so beautifully shot, in ultra-gorgeous black and white, and I wish I had been able to just shut the rest of my brain off and enjoy, to be completely immersed in it.

It was great. Joan Webster has known exactly where she is going since she was a tiny girl. Now, at 25, she is on her way to a small island in Hebricles, Scotland. There she will marry the very-very wealthy Sir Robert Bellinger. That is, if she can get there. The weather (or fate?) does not seem to want to cooperate, so she waits on the mainland with the requisite cast of colourful characters. I loved watching the headstrong Joan come up against forces greater than herself (you know, nature... love), trying as hard as she can to control everything. The accents were especially fabulous (and ridiculous). I love discovering new old movies. I've watched lots that I love (It Happened One Night, Imitation of Life, and on and on) but I know there are tons out there I haven't seen, especially ones that have gotten a little lost in the interim. Do you have a favourite (or ites) I may have missed? Please recommend.

Blog names

2010-02-18T10:27:00.002-05:00

Trying to come up with a blog name gives me the same feeling as when I was a teenager and tried to come up with great band names.

The Anachronism

2010-02-15T21:56:00.001-05:00

I worked on this! Barely, but I did.

2010-02-15T13:19:00.000-05:00

Just read this article on the Secret Society for Creative Philanthropy, and thinking about what I might do. Oh the possibilities.

Love one another (and yourself)

2010-02-14T14:01:00.000-05:00

(Gorgeous heart print by Ork Posters)

On Valentine's day, I think about love:

Love is a verb.

Love is real.

Love is make believe.

Love makes the world go round.

Love will tear us apart.

Love is easy.

Love is hard.

Love is kind.

Love is everything.

Luckily for me while my romance plate may be empty (and sparklingly clean, and has been sitting in the drying rack for a while), my love plate is delightfully full. And today, because it is also Chinese New Year, my love plate was full of both friends and dim sum.

Hearts.

Lady Gaga Hair (and others)

2010-02-04T13:56:00.004-05:00

Okay, I don't really want to admit how much time I spent playing with this makeover site this morning (and afternoon, ahem). It's way too addictive and time consuming, but you get to try things like Lady Gaga hair. And Rihanna hair. Um, awesome? Yes.

The highlights (so to speak):

Zooey Deschanel.

Random long hair... not sure who.

Gretchen Moll.

Parker Posey.

Jackie Warner.

Jenna Malone.

So basically this shows me (in my opinion) that I look infinitely cuter with short hair. The long hair all made me look... blah (I know, I have a fantastic vocabulary. Thanks.). The shorter hair makes me look... more alive? I'm not sure what it is - probably the fact that it brings the focus to my eyes. Anyways, I think the reign of long hair is about to end. I'm still hanging onto it a little, though. Why?

My Type

2010-02-02T16:01:00.003-05:00

What type are you?

Finding awesome things: Shawn Kuruneru

2010-02-01T14:53:00.000-05:00

I'm sitting here at the Anchor Zine Archive, and this is why I love coming here: currently cataloguing a gorgeous zine by Shawn Kuruneru.

I sort of knew this day was coming...

2010-01-31T22:15:00.001-05:00

This time it's Carey Mulligan.

I absolutely adored her in An Education, and she's been all over my celebrity radar this awards season, wandering around with Shia Labeouf, looking adorable with her goddamn super-hot cropped hair.

I really thought I had made it. In the recent past, I even thought to myself, wow. I'm really pleased that I'm enjoying long hair. I haven't missed short hair at all.

And now this.

Before Carey it was Michelle.

And before her, countless others, winding on to way back when, the one who started it all, Drew.

Sigh. I've had this feeling before. Many, many times. It comes on so suddenly. I'm wandering along, perfectly content, then wham: short hair short hair short hair short hair. It looks so cute. And gamine. And free.

I haven't fully 100% given up on long hair yet, but I think you can tell where my heart lies.

お誕生日おめでとう to me

2010-01-28T14:14:00.000-05:00

The grammar of that is probably completely off, but it apparently means Happy Birthday in Japanese. This year seems to have become the Japanese birthday, and it was delightful. A few of my friends and I went for sushi after work, which was delicious, and then we came home and watched Cherry Blossoms while eating Chai creme brulee (okay, maybe the multicultural birthday: I also had spicy thai noodles for lunch).

Cherry Blossoms is a really beautiful movie. I loved it. It's about love and grief, and about how hard it is sometimes to connect, even with the people we love the most, but also how important it is to connect, to really try. It's about aging and family and romance and living and dying. Made by Buddhist director Doris Dorrie, who also made Enlightenment Guaranteed (which I loved), this film is... sometimes slow, sometimes sad, moving, funny, pure, natural, ephemeral... so many things. Recommended.

8/10.

And while I know it's not my birthday anymore, I decided to keep celebrating myself today, given that I had to spend most of yesterday in work, and didn't get a chance to buy myself the ever-important birthday gift to self. I kept on in the Japanese theme, and finally wandered into a little store that opened in Halifax recently, the Ikebana Shop. All kinds of adorable Japanese things were laid out beautifully, and the store was so peaceful and colourful. I was at a table looking at the various teas, when the man at the counter asked me if I was familiar with Japanese teas. I told him I knew a little bit, but not a lot, and he told me he was preparing some tea if I'd like to join him. Ferdy explained to me about pouring the hot water into a separate bowl to cool it (apparently 80 degrees is ideal for tea), and steeping the tea for about a minute so it doesn't get too bitter. He then poured it, switching back and forth between two cups, pouring a little bit into each at a time, and handed me a cup. It was delicious, subtle and slightly sweet. I had a really great time chatting with Ferdy, and found out that his wife teaches Ikebana classes in their upstairs studio. I really want to go try a class (or two or twelve), so I think that might be one of my birthday gifts to myself. I also picked up some Genmaicha Matcha-iri (Green Tea with Roasted Brown Rice and Matcha), a gorgeous cherry blossom notepad, and a couple of cute little buttons.

Yay for cherry blossoms. Yay for Japan. Yay for Japanese themed birthdays.

This makes twitter worth it

2010-01-27T09:23:00.000-05:00

So, I've been on twitter for a while now, and I stillllllll haven't really connected to it. But the other day my sister told me she was following the baby-sitters club members, and it made my... month? So, in case you need a better reason to join twitter (or check it more regularly) here are Kristy Thomas, Claudia Kishi, Mary Anne Spier, Stacey McGill, Dawn Schafer, Mallory Pike, Jessi Ramsey, and, for good measure, Logan Bruno.

So it's my birthday

2010-01-27T09:03:00.000-05:00

And yes, this post is just a pathetic attempt to get people to wish me happy things.

Last night I dreamed that my favourite teacher failed a paper I wrote. In her comments she wrote, "You are too old to be dancing around subjects like this." It scared me. So apparently I need to get to the heart of the matter.

Oh! Also! (probably) Happy Birthday Apple Tablet! Here is what the world says about us:

You possess creative and verbal style, an analytical mind, and a broad tolerance of others' differences. Many of you are excellent at teaching, whether or not you do it for a living, as others readily respect you and follow your lead. As well, you are good at encouraging and motivating people. You are an especially trustworthy person. You value your personal freedom more than most and don't easily accept restrictions. Your thinking is progressive and way ahead of your time. Famous people born today: Wolfgang Mozart, Lewis Carroll, Bridget Fonda, Mordecai Richler.

Last night I had a dream

2010-01-23T13:16:00.000-05:00

Last night I had a dream that I wrote a short story, and was going to give it to my dad to read. I was reading over the last bit, and it was awful, like bad Bukowski.

I am loving and Capable

2010-01-22T13:26:00.001-05:00

Today's Cat and Girl = practically perfect.

100 things I love

2010-01-16T19:34:00.002-05:00

I asked Sally for a list of 10 things she loves (searching for birthday ideas), and then I gave her mine, but we both decided that 10 things is not enough. So we're expanding to 100. Here they are (in no particular order):

Spicy food
Books
Movies
Sex
The Internet
Creme Brulee
Alternative Pop Culture-y things
Simple but cool jewellery
Anything made of awesome wood
Black pens/blank pages
Noodles
Dim sum
Food (ha)
David Burdeny's photographs
Japan
30 Rock
Graphic design
Libraries
Television
Metallic eyeshadow
Pantone notebooks
Teen movies
Tea
Dark chocolate
The idea of having a pet
Journalling
Jezebel.com
Chopsticks
Prawns
The number 9 (and the number 27)
Modern quilts
Androgyny
Black tank tops
Black jeans
Black
Grey
Vancouver's glass skyline
Hot dogs
New York
Asian photo booths
Teal
Nerd glasses
The ocean
Hot tubs
Crossword puzzles (only when I have a mechanical pencil)
Almond croissants
The Decemberists
Candles that make the whole room smell like... warmth and love
Graphic novels (/comics)
&s
Typography
Rachel Maddow
Jemaine Clement
Orange juice with lemon squeezed in
Giant bowls
Daikon
Cherry blossoms
Reading to kids
Bacon
Pasta with garlic and anchovies and red pepper flakes
Paul Simon
Musicals
Beatniks
Floating on my back (usually in water, but on air would be cool too)
Amazingly supple leather
Learning cool computer things
Paper cranes
Spicy Caesars
Watercolours
Modern Embroidery
Ballet flats
Moleskine planners
Going to see matinees by myself
E.E. Cummings
Stories of Hollywood's Golden Age
The Academy Awards
Photography (especially portraits)
Dancing
Listening to Joni Mitchell alone in the afternoon while drinking tea
Fresh, clean sheets
Algemarin foam bath
Hugs
Speaking French
Woody Allen movies
Listening to the rain before I fall asleep
Cooking while listening to music and drinking wine
Trying new foods
Raw silk
Rock and roll haircuts
Coffee (with cream)
Singing along with the radio while riding in cars
Great conversations
Blogs and blogging
Favourites (mine and other people's)
Soup spoons
Spicy scallop rolls
Fashion
Michelle Williams's 2006 Oscar dress
Astrology/new age awesomeness
Love

Very annoyed

2010-01-08T12:05:00.001-05:00

I've been thinking about tattoos for a long time. I would consider myself a tattoo person, if I weren't so wary of committing myself to one forever and ever and ever (well, till I die. Or have it removed. I guess it's really not forever at all). And given that I think of myself as somewhat Buddhistic (is that a word?) at my core, if not in practice, I feel conflicted about the idea of doing something so inherently... materialistic. Still, I am very drawn to the ritualistic, symbolic aspects of tattoos, and the idea of claiming my body, and to the base aesthetic appeal.

I go through crests of time when I'm more interested in getting a tattoo, and right now I'm in the riding along in one of them. I think it's because I'm turning 28 in a couple of weeks, and I feel kind of like 28 is my 30. When I went to the awesome psychic a few years ago, she talked about the Saturn Return, and how I needed to get myself together by that time, otherwise I'd be working on the same issues for the next 30 years. Suddenly I'm really feeling that. I want to find my place in life and just be. Probably with a tattoo. Or tattoos.

I've been searching for a tattoo artist who matches my imagined aesthetic for years, to no avail. And then, somehow, I came across Nomi Chi. Whose aesthetic I looooove. Who, miraculously, is based in Vancouver. As was I. For years. And over Christmas. But I find her today, as I decide I want a birthday tattoo. Now. And live in Halifax. (Where she has apparently tattooed before, and may again. But not now.)

And I am very annoyed.

My favourite 21st century movies (so far) (including the year 2000)

2010-01-05T16:55:00.000-05:00

I read A.'s top ten films of the last decade and immediately had to run out and write my own list. Here goes:

10. Irreversible
9. The Wackness
8. After the Wedding
7. Gosford Park
6. Rachel Getting Married
5. Stranger than Fiction
4. Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind
3. Amelie
2. Kissing Jessica Stein
1. Monsoon Wedding

This was really hard for me to narrow down, and there are so many movies I want to cram in there (Murderball, Wall-E, Let the Right One In, City of God, and on and on). And some of the movies I think might make it in there, I haven't seen yet (namely The Hurt Locker). Here's to even better movies in the next decade. Imaginary clink of glasses.

Dear Teens

2010-01-01T19:20:00.002-05:00

Dear Teens,

Welcome.

Ange

Dear "Aughts"

2009-12-31T21:48:00.002-05:00

I'm on my way to a New Year's party, but I felt the need to post some kind of commemorative post here.

Dear "Aughts",

Thanks for all of the good times and good people. I'm really into the way we're wrapping up our time together. There were some rocky days in there, but also a lot of awesome. This came mostly in the form of amazing people, with amazing food being a runner up. Some amazing books and movies and places were also present.

I feel too overwhelmed by everything that happened between us to even try to make sense of it all. My whole adult life so far has been spent with you... Look at me getting sentimental (pretty rare, except where sports movies are concerned).

Anyways, this is just to say thanks. I wish you all the best in your retirement.

Yours fondly,

Ange

Gift

2009-12-26T20:36:00.007-05:00

December 25: Gift. What's a gift you gave yourself this year that has kept on giving?

The day after.

I'm sitting here in my room, my bed piled with presents. As per usual, I've been spoiled this Christmas. (Thanks.)

But what have I given myself? I'm quite fond of gifts to oneself, especially for birthdays (the birthday outfit is a favourite of mine), though Christmas usually ends up with so much money being spent on other people that there is not really any to spare for myself. Oh right. I just remembered the big chunk of money I spent on a dress a few days ago.

BCBG consistently has my favourite party dresses, and I think this is the sexiest dress I've ever tried on. I tried it on and at first I thought (and stated): this looks ridiculous. The bottom half is layered, ruched and billowy. Standing in my bare feet, I thought it made me look like I had a tiny top half and a giant bottom half. Add heels, however, and it just worked. Wary of the slightly high (but on sale) price tag, I wavered. Yes. No. Yes. No. Maybe. No. Yes.

Yes.

It's one of my few "grown up" purchases (I definitely haven't made it to the mattress or couch stage yet), and I'm very excited to wear it. Actually, I was planning on buying a party dress sometime this Christmas since the King's YAS ball is coming up, and last year I felt seriously underdressed. Now I just need some new shoes (I realized the other day that I own no heels. None.). And maybe a lipstick.

Car Ride

2009-12-20T09:32:00.002-05:00

I absolutely love riding in cars. Although I hate driving (will not, do not), I love the feeling of being in a car and watching the outside go by, settling in and relaxing. I'm sure it's whatever settles babies and gets them to sleep, still doing its work on me. I am having a hard time picking just one car ride that I loved this year. I will go with two scenarios.

Whenever my dad drives me home through an empty downtown and across the Lions Gate Bridge at night after we've spent an evening together. I feel so warm and content and safe (and no, this is not an explicit attempt to get you to drive me home more often, dad. It's true.).

Driving around with Tiffany running ridiculous errands in Halifax. Usually we end up stopping about 8000 times. It's so mundane, but with the music and the laughing and the ambling pace I love it. Oh, also the long drive we took to Tiff's family cottage, despite the fact that it ended with a flat tire in the middle of the night.

I love riding in cars with people I love.

Shopping

2009-12-18T10:36:00.002-05:00

December 18 Shop:

I have a nice set-up, in that I get paid for my job in residence in room and board, so I don't have to stress too much day to day about the cost of groceries or rent, and I can spend little pockets of money on things that I love (and others that I don't). So here are the top ten things I spent money on this year.

10. Library fines. Working in a library for 5 years left me... even less likely to adhere to library due dates. Unfortunately, I now have to pay the fines I accrue.

9. Going to movies. This is one I haven't actually spent as much money on as I would like to have, meaning I haven't gone out to see as many movies as I wish I had. Although there are so many opening on Christmas that I want to see, so I can still spend more this year. Yay.

8. St. Ambroise Apricot Wheat Ale. Best beer. Mmmmmmm.

7. Yarn &c. I've spent $60 in the last two days on yarn - then again, I tell myself it will go to make Christmas presents for multiple people. If I can get things knitted in time.

6. Make-up. I've been living a relatively make-up free existence this term, but every so often I get cravings for new pots of colour to smear on my face (so weird, when I really think about it). Last spring saw a concentrated interest in blush. I'm not sure why. Yearning for the flush of youth? Possibly.

5. Christmas presents. Yipes.

4. Flights. Being bicoastal is oh so glamourous. And pricey.

3. Tuition. And books. For school, not fun books. Okay, a couple of fun books.

2. Coffee.

1. Food. Being fed in the residence meal hall can only go so far in nourishing my body, not to mention my soul. This year saw a brief affair with Smartfood (the white cheddar popcorn. Sounds healthy. Not so much.), and the continuation of a long standing romance with dim sum, sushi, and spicy noodles from Chabaa Thai. And chocolate.

Word or Phrase

2009-12-18T10:30:00.003-05:00

December 17 Word or phrase: 2009 was lovely.

2 in 1: Packaging and Tea of the Year

2009-12-16T08:59:00.002-05:00

Whoops - missed yesterday's Best of 09 prompt. And am now running off to buy the right size of knitting needles for a project I'm about to start.

December 15 Best Packaging: A friend of mine was staying with me, and he drank one of those little bottles of Glenfiddich that comes in the tiny cardboard cylinder. He left behind the cylinder, which I immediately recognized as the perfect chopstick holder. It's about 2 inches in diameter, and about 5 inches high, and while it's obviously a whiskey container, I've been on the lookout for the perfect decorative paper to hide its provenance and doll it up a bit.

December 16 Tea of the Year: ...I love tea. I haven't discovered anything that has absolutely rocked my world this year, so I'm going to go with the classic favourite, Earl Grey. I tried it with lemon and honey for the first time this year, and it was delicious. But usually I'll go for just milk. And a cookie.

It's not chocolate, but...

2009-12-15T08:52:00.004-05:00

The Hubble Space Telescope Advent Calendar is an awesome way to count down to December 25th, whatever that day means (or doesn't) to you.

Rush

2009-12-14T09:24:00.005-05:00

December 14 Rush. When did you get your best rush of the year?

I'm thinking back and realizing that this has, for the most part, been a really relaxed year. The good thing about that is I haven't had any real lows, but I haven't had many high highs, either.

Okay, after thinking about this for a few minutes, I am going to go with: stepping off the plane, by myself, in Montreal. I've traveled alone before, and I highly recommend it, because the fear adds to the excitement and the relief of realizing that you are fine, and you are capable of navigating new terrain. I was only by myself for about an hour, between getting off the plane and arriving by shuttle at the bus station where I was met by Kat's lovely friend Lauren. I spent that hour (and the next few days) surrounded by newness, and I absolutely love that feeling (that rush) of knowing that I am seeing or doing something for the first time.

When it comes down to it, I look back at my life and so many of those rushes I can remember are associated with travel. All of my senses are engaged with the new places I go - I feel myself expanding with tastes and smells and sights and sounds and feelings. So a thought for 2010 (and the rest of 2009): seek out more of these experiences, even at home. Try new dishes at new restaurants, seek out new neighbourhoods, try new things. Try to bring that complete sensory awareness to my everyday life. Feel more rushes.

Catching up to the best of 2009: the best change I've made to my home

2009-12-13T13:25:00.007-05:00

I haven't been blogging much. I've been feeling this two way pull between wanting to write more, but wanting to write more extensively (bigger ideas, more research and time and thought dedicated to posts) - which means that the little things that I usually post about feel insubstantial and get lost, but I don't actually write the long things, and so I don't write. I've decided enough is enough. I've been thinking for a long time about developing a group culture blog, something where my more substantial posts can go without feeling the pressure of having to post something every day, but I still love my little nook here, so I'm going to try to just post things without worrying that they aren't smart or interesting enough. I'm smart and interesting!

So, as a jump start, I'm going to try the best of 2009 blog challenge (discovered via Mennogirl's post), which immediately intrigued me. I'm a little bit behind (there is a post for each day in December), but here goes:

December 13 What's the best change you made to the place you live?

I'm so happy to be back in my little suite at King's (for anyone who isn't aware of this, I have a job that I love in residence at a small university in Halifax. The only downside is I don't have my own kitchen. Oh yeah, and I can't have a pet. Oh - and people can be really loud when they drink.). I have just enough space for me, with a big window that looks out onto the quad where I can watch the leaves change and the snow fall and the magnolia tree bloom. It came fully furnished , and the furniture I have is not what I would call my style. A big maroon couch and a maroon and gold chair, with mismatched wood shelves and drawers and cabinets. Still, it feels homey and bright and comfy, which is most important to me.

Being that I am a grad student, and that most of my money goes to school related expenses (tuition, coffee, beer, thai food), and also that Halifax is most likely not my permanent home base, I haven't spent a lot of time or money on decor. I also really appreciate... sparseness. Not in a cold, clinical way - it's just that I don't go for things that aren't perfect (according to my sensibilities). I want one perfect thing, not a bunch of random things I think are pretty cute. This year I decided that I needed to inject slightly more of my personality into my home, but in a way that would go with my inherited furniture. I managed to find two pieces (don't I sound professional?) that go well with the current feel, but make it feel more like home and a little more me.

I lived without cushions for the first year I spent here. I couldn't find anything that went well with this weird maroon and gold theme, so despite the fact that I love cushions (especially for cuddling when I watch movies), I went without. This year I decided that had to change. Wandering through the Superstore (my favourite store ever, although I can never actually find clothes I want to buy), I came across a set of red and purple graphic print cushions for... $15 I think? It was one of the best finds ever. They wouldn't necessarily be what I would choose if I were starting from scratch, but they are actually quite suited to my style, and they go with the rest of the stuff in my living room. Yay. Plus, they make perfect laptop perches when I am sitting on my couch (a la now).

I also bought a framed Tree/Buddha print from Winners for $20 that now sits on my bookshelf and adds some interest/texture.

And probably my favourite change to my home is not actually one I made. It is thanks to one of my favourite people, who knew I was in love with a ridiculously expensive candle from Aveda (apparently they only sell them over the winter holidays), and surprised me with it for no good reason. It was the best, most surprising gift, and I was giddy for days. Honestly, it smells so good. I'm addicted. I light it and my whole room smells like warmth and love and spice. Pretty much everyone who comes in comments on how good it smells, even hours after the candle has been put out. I was never much of a candle person before, but this candle makes my home feel so much more... homey. Ha. Sensuous. Warm. Relaxed. All of the best things.

Despite the fact that it is nothing like the home I would create with unlimited (or even slightly less limited) time and funds, it is my perfect little nest for now. I love being here. That feels so good to say.

Anchor Archive Zine Library

2009-12-08T15:33:00.003-05:00

photo by flickr user lyndall musselman

Yesterday was completely rejuvenating.

While my roots are firmly planted in punk rock, I've been feeling old and staid lately. This is mostly because I no longer delight in standing and head-bobbing (or even dancing) at shows that are crowded and late at night; I would almost always rather be eating cheese and talking with friends in a cozy living room, or reading, or even (gasp) sleeping. I despaired in my facebook status the other day about the fact that I think I look more conservative than I really am. My hair hasn't been a colour other than its own natural brownish shade for at least two years (which could not have been said for it between the ages of 12 and 25). I have a typical grad student uniform of jeans and t-shirts and cardigans. I have no tattoos (yet) or other distinguishing marks that can call out for me, "Hey! I'm rad! I like the same obscure awesome things you do!" Does any of this matter? No. Does it feel like it does? A little.

Yesterday I visited the Anchor Archive Zine Library. A tiny, ramshackle little space that abounds with energy and verve and personality, the kind that I've felt to be a little lacking from my everyday existence. I've been spending so much time with my computer and blogs and google and online databases and so on and so forth, that it was incredibly nice to be surrounded by paper. I spent an hour or so being trained in how to catalogue the zines, and then I set to work going through them. I love zines. I love that people can put their stories onto paper and send them out into the world and we can share them and pass them on and draw and create - and they don't have to be epic. Just stories and thoughts and drawings and ideas.

It was a reminder of that sense of community I found when I was 14 and going to shows all the time. A reminder that I should be using my hands more - and not just for typing. A reminder that the world doesn't end outside my neighbourhood - there are amazing people doing amazing things everywhere.

The fact that zine libraries even exist has just brightened my existence considerably. Plus, I now get to add "Zine Librarian" to my resume - and I so will.

So: if you're in Halifax - go check out the Anchor Archive Zine Library. If you're outside of Halifax and you have copies of your zines (you know who you are), send them in! We don't need to be famous novelists to write and share and connect. Just write something down and let someone else read it.

2009-12-06T10:36:00.002-05:00

This is stunningly, awesomely beautiful.

Also: I'm done school (for the semester)! Any awesome things (that don't cost money) that I should be spending my time with (according to you)?

(Video found via BOOOOOOOM.)

2009-11-19T09:54:00.003-05:00

photo by flickr user applejan

I've been thinking in fragments lately.

Not sure what it means.

Or why.

I write letters that are line, then line, then line.

I like it.

Mostly.

(And I want one of these.)

Somewhere I would like to be tonight

2009-11-15T09:59:00.004-05:00

Watching Lauren Ambrose with her band, the Leisure Class, play their first show in New York.

I recently rewatched all of Six Feet Under, a part of my favourite show trifecta (the others being the West Wing and Friday Night Lights). I love Claire. Yes, she's moody and annoying and self-centred, but I still love her.

Here is a perfect (fitting) moment from Six Feet Under:

Extremely Loud & Incredibly Close

2009-11-07T16:09:00.004-05:00

I had my first ever book club meeting today. I can't think of very many things better than eating and talking about books. Well, reading is one of the things I can think of.

Our first pick was Jonathan Safran Foer's Extremely Loud & Incredibly Close. For some reason (and I should learn my lesson, because this happens over and over again in life) I didn't think I would really like it, but I couldn't have been more wrong. The story follows Oskar Schell, a nine-year-old New Yorker whose father was killed in the World Trade Centre attack. Oskar is ridiculously intelligent, literal, awkward, anxious, thoughtful - among the most neurotic fictional characters, I've ever encountered, child or otherwise. The book jumps between characters and times, language and writing styles, and makes use of images. I wasn't sure these literary techniques would serve any purpose but novelty, but there are so many beautiful moments, and every word (and picture) helps define the emotions and the characters so precisely, that I ended up cherishing the little things I thought would annoy me (including Oskar).

This book is about grief. It's about the fact that every single person is grieving something, and that we carry that around with us forever. There was some discussion of whether this was a depressing book; for me it absolutely wasn't. It was a sad book sometimes, yes. But I felt hopeful, realizing that we have all lost people and things, but we are still able to make new connections, and still able to love - not just able, but we can't help it.

8.6/10. (Yes, that is my way of giving it an A.)

Side note: In the book, Oskar finds a mysterious key in an envelope marked only with the word "Black." He decides to speak to everyone in New York with the last name of Black, to see if someone can help him figure out what the key is for. In this adorable video, Jonathan Safran Foer sets out to recreate his protagonist's quest. Sort of.

Two people I wish I could marry

2009-10-29T19:38:00.004-04:00

I'm currently reading Steve Martin's memoir about his stand up career, Born Standing Up. It is reminding me how much I love him (although his recent spot on 30 Rock did a lot for that, too). A throwaway line about Rick Moranis's Woody Allen impression (it was "so precise that it made Woody seem like a faker") made me remember how much I also love Rick Moranis (and spend a while tracking down a video; the quality of the picture isn't that good, but the quality of the impression is. It starts at 2:41. Also: another awesome Rick Moranis video. This one is especially good if you have an interest (or disinterest) in Canadian Cinema.).

(contented sigh)

Read read read read read read read

2009-10-19T15:41:00.001-04:00

I wish I could do this.

Found via A Cup of Jo.