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.)

NYPL Menu Collection

Tunisian Nectar: Littleneck Clams, basement lingerie trimmings.

What??

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

Creativity

I'm taking a management skills development class this term. It's really great - we read about and assess our skills in relation to various management related issues (self-awareness, stress reduction, conflict resolution, etc.) and then talk about them in class. Today's class was centred around creativity, and according to the results of the self assessment, I was at the top of the scale.

This has me back to thinking about my career path. I want to make sure I get into a job where creativity and problem-solving is a major aspect. I have no idea what this will be.

Things I love today

The number 9.

Sleep.

Coffee.

Sunshine.

Looking forward to seeing District 9 when I make that happen. (Maybe it should be today, theme day.)

Smoothies.

Wooden boats (went to the maritime museum yesterday with friends from Vancouver - cried at the Halifax Explosion exhibit. Also - Tuesdays are by donation, yay.).

My half-price sunscreen that smells like creamsicle, even though the hornets love it too.

Water.

The library (as per usual).

Scott Pilgrim.

Thinking about space.

Serendipity: I was sitting on a bench, reading the aforementioned Scott Pilgrim, when I came across the word gallivanting, and paused to reflect on the fact that it was spelled differently than I thought it was. As I was staring at the word and thinking about this, the woman sitting next to me said into her cellphone, "Yeah, they're off gallivanting around..." It just made me feel like I was in the right spot.

Cutting off split ends.

Thinking about food.

090909

I love the number 9. Happy 9 day.

On excitement

Image by flickr user moleitau (aka Matt Jones)

It is amazing how restorative a Saturday alone can be. I am shocked that it is only 11:47 am. My day has contained unimaginable excitement - but all in my head.

Recently, I have been waking up early, then looking at the clock and going back to sleep. Every time it happens, I have a thought, in the tiny area of my brain that is actually awake, that I should start getting up when my body seems to want me to. This morning, when the tiny tap of a crow landing on the roof made its way through to my consciousness, I looked at the clock and saw that it was only 7 am. It was Saturday, and if I wanted to I could turn over and sleep until noon. Instead, I got up.

I had one thought.

Yoga or write. These are the two things I should be doing every morning that I almost never do. I don't know why I find it so hard to do these things that I absolutely enjoy. I must be punishing myself in some way, making myself slog from sleep to work (or television) without any time to get in touch with myself or the world.

Yoga seemed too hard, and writing, in comparison, easy. So I picked up my laptop and started typing away into my journal, the one where I can say anything, no matter how mundane (funny that I would feel worse about posting something boring than about posting something embarassing). I wrote for a bit, then got up and did some easy yoga poses.

I did things like put away dishes and read bits of my book (My Last Movie Star, by Martha Sherrill, which I am not enjoying as much as The Ruins of California, but I am enjoying), because I wanted to wait until the library opened to go out into the world. At quarter to ten I walked over, got a coffee, and sat with a pile of books. They've renovated the library recently, and it was full of windows and light and chairs to sit in, and I basked in the glow of sunshine and words. Somehow everything lined up; my caffe misto tasted delicious and I was suddenly full of ideas and energy and excitement. About a number of things. Well, two: what to do when I finish my MLIS (it involves writing more, and potentially more school - a fact I'm sure will delight my parents, and the critic inside me who thinks that I must not be cut out for the "real world", until I realize I'm already there, and doing okay by my true standards), and a blog idea (it also involves writing more, and is a big idea that I want to unveil in time). These two ideas started thrumming in me as I sat there. I could feel them in my pulse. I don't remember the last time I was so excited about something(s). Certainly not in the past few years.

All this in one Saturday morning. The weekend, books, sunshine and coffee - my favourite combination.

I like talking about myself. Or typing, rather.

Danette posted an interview meme (it doesn't really feel like a meme though - too tailor made for each individual) in which she was interviewed, and invited others to be interviewed in turn by her. I raised my hand (and pumped it furiously in the air), because I love being interviewed. At King's a bunch of the girls on my floor are in the journalism program, and I was occasionally interviewed (with tape recorders, even), and it was so fun. I wish job interviews were more like this:

1. If the last thing you ate was turned into a short film, what would it look like?

It would be from the perspective of the camera centred in the middle of the table and it would continuously rotate, showing a 360 degree viewing of alternate bites of caprese sandwich, sips of latte, and laughs, all out in the sunshine.

2. What was your favourite Halloween costume as a child? As an adult?

My favourite costume as a kid was when I was about 11 and went as a hanged person, and wandered all over the place holding on to this giant wooden thing that held a noose I made - I was sort of afraid I was going to trip and it was actually going to hang me. But it didn't. From an adult perspective my favourite childhood costume was when I was say, four? And had to wear a patch on one eye sometimes. So I went as a pirate. My favourite adult costume? Annie Hall, for sure. Because I had no idea what I was going to be until 7 pm that night, at which point I tracked down pants, a shirt, a vest, and a tie. No one knew who I was, but the costume made me so happy.

3. If you won the lottery where you get $1000 every week for the rest of your life, how would your life change?

I would probably keep working, doing the same things I'm doing, and invest/save at least half of the money every week. The rest would be saved for short term things like vacations and whatnot - and I would be happy to know that if ever I were in a job or situation I wasn't fond of - I could let go of it without stressing TOO much about money.

4. Have you ever written (sent or unsent) or received a love letter?

No. I've written and received a few like letters. And some heartbroken ones. I've only written those ones.

5. What do you want right now, more than anything else?

To be floating. Probably in beautiful water, but on air would be interesting too.

Yay for interviews! Thanks Danette! Now - do you want to be interviewed? Yes? Yes you do? (I love asking questions, too - I am a ridiculously curious person.) Well, tell me so in the comments - leave me your email address; I will email you five questions that I have invented for you (you); you answer on your blog - linking back to my blog (if you want... I guess you don't have to); you then post the rules and offer to interview other people (and on and on); you interview them.

Et voila.

I want to interview people. Let me interview you.

Life purpose? Sounds great.

I've been checking out the quirkyalone blog lately. Yesterday produced an interesting post about how to figure out your life purpose. I think I will have to try this.

Tone on tone

I've been noticing little things, lately. Subtleties.



Braids are what all the cool kids are doing these days. I love being surrounded by 18-year-olds.

Except when they use words I've never head before. Like biddy. Of course I've heard the word biddy before, but when I hear it I think of old ladies who are a little bit cranky.

It's slang, apparently, for girls you hook up with, randomly-ish, not seriously. At least, that's what I've gathered. I feel like an explorer in a new world sometimes.

Perfect jobs

We went around the table at dinner tonight deciding for one another what we saw as the perfect job. I was told that I should be a magazine editor (or else just a regular editor), and The Devil Wears Prada came up. "Yes," said Tiffany. "That character was made for you."

I looked at her askance. "Really."

"No, just like, you, are very firm in your opinions, and..." (This dialog is not exact, but is basically what she was saying.)

It's true. I am very precise in what I like and what I don't, and when something is right and when it is wrong.

Then I started fantasizing about having an assistant who I could send out to pick up whatever food I was craving. That would be great.

I don't think I'm very much like Miranda Priestley (or Anna Wintour), but I sure do like to decide things.

Mannerisms you have taken on entirely because of fictional characters

I love and adore Diane Keaton/Annie Hall (in my head they are one and the same) so much that I have taken on certain of her mannerisms in a way I hope is endearing but fear is entirely affected. It's actually really just one habit - putting my hands on my hips like she's doing here (imagine this photo involves her doing the same thing with both arms.) I think it all came about when I went as Annie Hall for halloween this year, and this pose was the one way I was able to get into character. And I liked it. So I kept doing it.


Are there any fictional characters or celebrities who have influenced your own mannerisms? Am I the only one who has done this?

I feel very exposed right now.

!?

I have recently become disenchanted with the exclamation mark. I'm not sure where this feeling has come from, but every time I use one I feel a little bit cheap.

I came across a quote from F. Scott Fitzgerald recently that perhaps sums up my feelings: "An exclamation point is like laughing at your own joke."

I think it has to do with my minimalist self - always paring down to the essentials.

That said, if you are one of my favourite people who happens to use a great number of exclamation marks (of which there are a few), I find them charming when used by you. I mean it.

Punctuation marks I do like: ; & ?

The Very Hungry Catterpillar

Do you know how much I am loving today's google design?


A whole lot, that's how much.

Places I want to be right now and why (kind of)

Scandinavia. I don't know which country. Maybe Sweden? Because I miss being blonde.

Miami. Hot. Food.

New Orleans. Food.

Paris. Because I miss the feeling. It is like being free and dedicated to pleasure and connection.

What is coming?

Something.

Scary.

Apparently I turn 27 and immediately start wanting kids. In this case I was talking about how wonderful the book Little Men is, and was struck by the desire to have a roomful of kids in bed to read it aloud to. I want to be Jo Bhaer! I want to run a tiny school for boys (and girl)! Full of hijinks! With my kindly professor husband! Oh no!

Something I said

Apparently I've decided that saying "high five" without any corresponding action is an appropriate way to express my enthusiasm. It could just be that I was outside in the cold, with hands in my pockets, not wanting to expose them to the elements. But I still kind of think it's awesome. I'm not sure my friend (who sort of half raised her hand in response) agreed.

Things I'm thinking about.

Snow. Annie Hall. Chicken noodle soup. New York. Ampersands. Walt Whitman. The Academy Awards. Writing. A nap. Laundry.

Chopsticks

I have never been much of a collector. I tried a few times, as a kid, to come up with something to collect. For a while I thought frogs. But nothing stuck. I am, by nature, an editor, not a hoarder. I tend to let go of as much as I pick up.

But now, I have organically happened upon the perfect collection.

Chopsticks.

My first three pairs: I love them all. I love them because they each have different personalities. Yep, I sound like a crazy collector already. At least I have chosen something small and cheap.

2009

I just wanted to post in 2009 as soon as possible. Which is actually sooner than it says, because I am actually in Pacific time but it says I am posting in Atlantic time. Which I will be back to very soon.

It feels like a ghost-town, Halifax. Like it doesn't actually exist. The same will be true for Vancouver, once I am gone.

I don't know if it's Vancouver or working at the Library again, or just having a chunk of time where my brain isn't coiling around homework, but I've been thinking about writing. And stories. Fragments are working their way around me, hopefully compiling. The image that comes to mind is one of those toys where the iron filaments are attracted to the magnet pen. Not that I actually know how those things work (wait, now I do. I googled it.).

This book is on my list of miracle cures for turning ideas and words and phrases into stories. I know, I know - just write. Okay.

Happy New Year.