On figs

 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.

Teenage Magazines

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.

お誕生日おめでとう to me

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. 

Two people I wish I could marry

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)

NYPL Menu Collection

Tunisian Nectar: Littleneck Clams, basement lingerie trimmings.

What??

The Miss Frank E. Buttolph American Menu Collection, 1851-1930. Thanks to Alex.

New York, New York (Public Library Digital Gallery)

Man oh man I love Information Studies sometimes. Today I am working on a critique of a digital library collection, and I have chosen the New York Public Library Digital Gallery. I'm always amazed by how much awesome stuff is out there in the world, just waiting for me to discover it. The Internet is so big. Slash awesome.

Jim Henson

Jim Henson is very high up in my list of people I don't know personally but admire and love. Even though he's not alive anymore, I think he has left a legacy of awesome that will continue for a very long time.

I'm in the midst of planning my Montreal trip (T-minus four days and counting), so I've been checking out online links to Montrealy things. The Design*Sponge Montreal Design Guide led me to the Galerie & Boutique Headquarters blog, where I learned that September 25th was JHs birthday and was pointed to the Wikipedia entry on him, most specifically the section about his death and funeral - and warned that I would probably cry. And I did - but in the way that I usually cry, which is when I am reminded by how extremely kind people can be to one another, and how good, and how we can connect even when things are sad.

So: Be kind. Be good. Connect.

xo.

Also: Watch the Muppets Tribute to Jim Henson.

You should listen to

Spark.

Arts & Culture

I was lucky enough to spend the past two days at the Vancouver Arts Summit (thanks to my great summer job at the Alliance for Arts and Culture). The entire thing was fantastic, but yesterday was especially so.

I went to a super fantastic (super tense) panel discussion on "new media, new tools, new audiences". I've come to be pretty disenchanted with the term new media - to my mind there is no longer any such thing; it's not something separate from the way we live our every day lives. Everything we do is through "new" media -- plus what comes next? Do we get new new media when what we have now becomes old new media? Newer media? Terminology aside, the panel discussion was fascinating, due to the range of voices. At one end of the spectrum was Jerry Wasserman, who seems to have gotten into the internet out of necessity more than excitement, and still seems a little skeptical about the whole thing, and at the other was Kris Krug, who had more than enough enthusiasm about and faith in the digital world to get most attendees really excited about the possibilites that come along with expanding your online presence. I could really feel the tension between the two perspectives - the traditional media who don't trust the internet vs. the younger users/creators who seem to have integrated it into every part of their lives - but that tension made me feel so connected to my love for technology and media and newness, and the fact that at its core all media, new and old, is about connection and learning.

Weird fact: we all found out that Michael Jackson died because Kris was online during the session. The moderator had just asked the question, Where do you find information you trust online? and out of nowhere Kris said something like, Apparently Michael Jackson just died. I don't think I was the only one who thought it was some kind of test or demonstration, showing us that you can't trust everything you read. I then got two text messages in short succession both telling me the same thing. It was all a little surreal.

Today, to end the conference, the wonderful emcee (she had another word for herself, but I can't remember what it was... something french sounding), Vanessa Richards, closed by thanking everyone, and then she brought it back to MJ. She talked about how powerful it was to be a kid and see Michael with the Jackson Five showing her that children could sing and do it with passion and energy - that being a kid wasn't restricted to Sesame Street. She talked about how sad she was when Michael first went solo, and how lonely he must have been throughout his life. Then she sang his first solo hit, Ben, because she thought its message was one that should be recognized and embraced by the arts community. I wish I could post a video of her singing, because I had one of those wonderful moments where my vision shifted, and everything aside from the performer and the performance was totally gone. I was completely taken into that moment, which was a perfect end to two days of talk about arts; I got to get into that simple, profound, direct, moving, expansive experience that is the reason people make and see and do art. Since I can't post that, I will post Mr. Jackson, before it all came down around him, singing about connection.

p.s. As a result of this (the summit and the panel, not Michael Jackson's death), I can't stop thinking about this blog. Where it should go. What it should be.

p.p.s. I want to do and be everything. They tell me I can't.

p.p.p.s. I have always loved postscripts - even now that editing functions mean that I could actually insert the thought into the body of what I am writing.