first-time lobster eater = me

Video blog from Jasper

Some videos from my second day in Jasper, Alberta (November 25, 2009).

stop-motion stops my heart

Any stop-motion animation gets my heart fluttering and alights my urge to make Sculpey figurines all over again like I once did in my mother's craft-packed basement.

From the 1964 claymation Rudolph to Nick Park's Wallace & Gromit to Henry Selik's Nightmare Before Christmas...lest not forget his take on Neil Gaiman's Coraline! If it is possible to fall in love with the production of a film, I am guilty of such a feat.

I am struggling to contain my enthusiasm for Mr Fox and his Fantastical George-Clooney voice and fellow Anderson cast members to hit Canadian cinemas. Where will I be when it hits November 25? On the train to Winnipeg! I may have to drag my chum, Wisam, out for a matinee.

late night ponderings

Why am I increasingly drawn to wearing black items of clothing? Is this a sign of ...aging? mourning? lack of creativity? or increased creativity (it's standard in graphic design attire, apparently)?

Why do bloggers take weekends off? Do they not peruse the Internet or continue their ponderings on Saturdays and Sundays?

Why do art students always seem to be having more fun? Is it because their minds haven't been conformed to fit through the narrow funnel of academia? Do their programs relieve them of traditional academic institutions' right-versus-wrong, check-one-box-only, one-point-for-showing-your-work-but-two-points-for-the-correct-answer limited methods? Do I sound jaded by my university experience?

Why am I able to justify eating more than I need to simply by looking at my profile in the mirror while lifting my shirt and seeing how far I can still suck in my stomach? Is this morbid or are there others out there like me?

Why can't my windburned cheeks look more like lightly dusted rose petals and less like glossy baby buttocks?

Why can't Canada have the same film release dates as America all the time? Mr Fox is too Fantastic for me to wait a week longer than the Yanks. Guess I'll read the book in the meantime.

Good night.

moleskine envy

cuuuuuute. and clever. (thanks, poppytalk, for the fun.)

note to self

Make a book or journal using an old record album as the cover.
Source: Too Good to be Threw (Courtenay)

Thus must also learn how to bind books.

melancholy

i enjoy a song cover that surprises me into smiling. Lend your ear: it's MGMT a la banjo.

Thanks, Shane via Hype Machine.

awesomeness: book form

Dallas Clayton may be my new Maurice Sendak.

Ok, no. Lies. Delete delete delete.

Sendak cannot be replaced.

But there is definitely something special about Clayton and his Awesome Book. If I can achieve the same level of success through creativity and pleasure, then I will have reached one of the greatest aspirations of my life.

I think I am so suddenly captivated by this artist/father/philanthropist is that he makes his work available to the world without cost. You buy because you want a tangible copy in your own bedroom, to read to your child or, like me, if you don't have a child, keep out on your bedside table for inspiration and daily reminders to keep going after what my crazy mind is idealizing.

With ink and standard markers, his illustrations are beautiful, honest, raw, engaging and complex. You can question the rationale but why bother? His art reminds me of the kind of stuff I know I wish I was still doing, but have forgotten how to let myself be free enough to create. I stopped drawing and painting a long time ago, allowing other activities and self-imposed responsibilities take priority. Who would have thought it would be such a psychological challenge to let go?

i am inspired

Where does David Horvitz generate his thoughts? Is he influenced by his environment, by his friends? Where does he look when he wakes in the morning? What does he do after breakfast, and where does he go to clear his brain? Because I'd like to go there. To rummage through his leftovers.

a special rarity

Jocelyn Wagner knows it's a special rarity to be at home sick with her dad eating pancakes.

I made this my Facebook status this morning but quickly removed it. Why?

1) Less people knowing that myself and my father are ill the better (H1N1 rumours are moving faster than the 'disease' itself);

2) the statement involves a bit too much gloat, which I'd rather avoid;

3) posting stuff on Facebook is essentially like starting rumours about oneself - why do that to oneself?

Thus, after those reasons, is the purpose of having a personal blog. To express oneself to only those rare few who actually, possibly, follow my ramblings. I.e., my two and only sisters.

Now for pancakes!

When my dad makes a pancake, he takes the task literally. I don't mean the cake is made from scratch. I mean the cake is made to fit the entire pan. Here's how Papa makes the cakes:

Add water to President Choice pancake mix, whisk. Crack egg into pan, flip before yolk solidifies; remove. Pour entire batter into same pan over med-high heat; let bubbles form but no charcoal. Flip, wait a minute or so then return fried egg to top of pancake to "warm." Locate Grade No. 1 Light Maple Syrup (1 L container from Costco, no less) from fridge and sit at breakfast counter with single-cup black coffee to accompany. Consume.


Most times I pass on the offer to have a pancake with Dad. Those offers tend to come on weekends, his normal time to be home during the morning. But today is a Tuesday and he is home feeling ill. I too am home with similar symptoms though have no where else in this world I need to be (huzzah). So this is a special rarity to be at home with Dad, making pancakes.

I accepted the offer, but requested a smaller version. His attempt at 'small' was appreciated, though my portion ended up being just half the size of the pan. No complaints about this. Just a concern about the absorption rate of maple syrup: where the hell does it go so quickly? I poured on nearly 1/4 cup and I could barely taste it in my fluffy cake de pan after a few minutes. Oh well.

Can one ever have too much maple syrup?

Note to self: consume maple syrup during train trip.

omg

Coco Cupcakes strikes again! Brilliant and most likely delicious.
Can I have this cake simply because I am fascinated with the magic of Max and his honest wilderness?
Any excuse to eat cake!

can't ... fight ... the happiness!

Radio 1 Live Lounge

Beautiful cover.
The strings. Her voice. Lyrics so poignant.

He may not have looked a thing like Jesus but he talked - and listened - like a gentle soul. I will always know.

falling in love with a city

I get a kick out of Angela at we do the movies. Through her I found this vaguely poignant quote, stashed away in a beautiful little film, Paris, Je T'aime.

brilliance

From A Cup of Jo blog feed this morning:

After only 20 minutes in the air observing the New York skyline from a helicopter, London-born artist, Stephen Wiltshire, drew the entire view in accuracy and scale from memory. This isn't his first cityscape either. The brilliance of autism continues to awe.

Front inside Harbour Centre (former study grounds) perched on the ledge of the massive bay windows in the Teck Gallery.
North Van across the water; Waterfront station on the left.

Second day in Vancouver, prior to my Wild Things vulnerability, it rained. Surprised? Off I trekked to downtown from the West End. Hooray for the "generousity" of Translink and my UPass validity (or lack of) because bussing about the city is certainly easier when you don't have to count change. I heard from a friend about this lovely Lebanese place near Harbour Centre so off I took Andrea for lunch. Mmm falafels!

Nuba is located in a venue in the underfloor space of an old, old building in Vancouver, across from the Vancouver Film School on the edge of the DTES. Last time I frequented this location, it was a tacky Mexican restaurant. But no longer! The decor of Nuba is fresh, clean, large arc walkways, and lots of space. Clearly a popular dining spot for those working downtown. And very reasonable prices, I'm happy to report. The 'hot sauce' is hardly hot but does have a fresh kick suitable for the falafel, hummus, avocado pita I had. Andrea tried the red lentil soup...you must try. I will certainly hit up Nuba again.

The rest of the day I spent burning time on the Internet at Renaissance cafe on Burnaby Mountain, then hanging out with my Wild Things companion for the evening. Traffic was stupid so we had to x our trip to Ikea but that left more time to cook dinner!

Weather update for Day 3 in Vancouver: lighter rain. With a chance of breaking cloud. Off to Langley/Whiterock I go!

Where ARE the wild things?

They're raging inside my tear ducts and breaking my heart strings. Because I certainly reacted to this film last night.

I set myself up to react in such a way. I have been captivated by Maurice Sendak's magic since ... wel, I can't remember that far back into my memories. What I can recall is how this captivation has intensified into my adult years. Not because I am nostalgic of my childhood; quite the opposite. I have a strong realization that childhood (read: my childhood, for I can't assume everyone's to be the same) was not as we adults glorify it to be. Mine was confusing, anxious, curious, terrified, worrisome, irrational. And that is exactly what I got from the film last night.

I'll be upfront immediately and say it wasn't the best film I've seen. But there were enough elements (or enough personal hype) to make it as magical as the book. A different kind of magic, however, it was reassuring knowing Sendak had co-produced the film (and for me, Dave Eggers as a co-screenplay writer).

I'm not great at articulating why I appeal so strongly to this book/film. Others have said far better than I could how the film has made me feel. If someone asks me what I thought of the film, my reaction is mixed. You can't read my face and understand, and I'm sorry to say my words can't do the feelings justice. It conjures up the pain of the hundreds of goodbyes I've had to make in my life, and more poignantly, the most recent, hardest goodbye of my life. The scenery reminded me of places I've been; the Wild Things of people I know, and of myself. I admire how the Wild Things voiced their internal tormoil - something children do well, but as adults we force ourselves away from. Perhaps I enjoy it so because of my desire to lash out, destroy things, create things at will. Shout and howl without reason. This is something we associate with children because as a society we permit them the liberty to do so. As adults, we're expected to hide our emotions and get on with life. But my biggest query is: what is life if not emotions?

Anyway, I know this piece of art wasn't everyone's cup of tea. The company I took with me last night fell asleep at several points (though, bless him, he didn't grow up with the book and hasn't been under its spell since a young age). But it was beautiful, and it was heart aching for me. I cried, yes, I cried. At many points and for so many complicated, beautiful reasons. That's one thing I can do: be vulnerable. There is such a wealth of feeling, emotion, experience to be had from making oneself vulnerable to life.

um ... wow!?

Kiel Johnson's Cardboard Twin Lens Reflex Camera Time Lapse from Theo Jemison on Vimeo.

A week's return

Yesterday I returned to Vancouver. And oh what a joy it was.


MGMT - Electric Feel (Official Music Video) - Watch more amazing videos here
A notable song I'll likely always associate with Vancouver. Not for the lyrics, more for its ubiquity while dancing at Honey.

I know it rains here, but it does so on the Island. I know it has it's traffic and transit problems, but where doesn't it? Here in Vancouver are friends. People I connect well with, who make me laugh and laugh back with me. My sister is here...who, once living only two blocks away, I managed to see every other day. I'm very excited to see her tomorrow; 'tis her birthday!

Despite a delayed ferry departing Nanaimo, I had a pleasantly standard crossing to the Mainland. A kind friend retrieved me from the terminal, saving me the pleasure of Translink's service to downtown.

Also here in Vancouver are good eating establishments, two of which I tested yesterday:

Red Door on Granville

• Try the lettuce wraps - just the right balance between hoi son sauce, ground chicken and Chinese sausage, and the iceberg leaves were crisp and refreshing;
  
• skip the chicken curry - it's nothing to shout about, though the crispy naan was a nice change).
• I paired the meal with a pint of Dragon Tail Ale (a pseudonym for Granville Island's Pale Ale) which was tasty enough.

and Quattro on West 4th and Trafalgar:

• $10 pastas on Mondays, Tuesdays and Wednesdays - a chance to get hooked, and a too-easy opportunity to spend more on your wine than food.
  
• I had the special: gnochhi in a rose sauce with artichoke hearts. The gnocchi was well-prepared, and the dish overall was nice, but I can't say it awed me. I was much more impressed with Larissa's dish, the fettuccine with wild mushrooms in a cream sauce. That fungi was beautiful, and the pasta broad and fresh.
• Also sampled (ha) two glasses of the "organic" Malbec, a spot-on suggestion by Larissa.
• Between us six ladies, we nearly cleared a platter (yes, platter) of three desserts - all but the tiramisu which was decided to be a medium-rate attempt by Michelle's internationally-discerned pallet for this particular dessert. The two we did fully devour were the ricotta cheesecake (with a blueberry compote, I think) and the freshly-made brownie, served with vanilla bean gelato and a caramel sauce. The cheesecake was bold and the brownie was superb: soft inside, crisp outside.

Post-girls' dinner, Larry and I made our way to Gastown for more Malbec at Chill Winston. A little too chill in that Wednesday-night venue. Plus, seeing as this was our third glass, we were content to bed down for the night soon after.

I have fallen in love. With an unavailable 100-year old apartment in the West End. The beauty is currently rented by Larissa and friend, though I just may try to get myself on the wait list for this building. $1400/month for all this wood, powder room, small deck, huge windows, two huge bedrooms. And it's cleaner than the Commercial apartment building I resided in a couple months ago. (Poor webcam photos follow...)

Blogging on the train

I've been spending a lot of time on VIA Rail's website these past weeks, planning out my trip across the country. Turns out VIA operates a travel blog site and encourages train-ers to keep a blog about their journeys by offering a $300 prize to the 'best blog' every 3 months. Obviously I started one - though I've decided not to depart until November 22. Nonetheless, I'm blogging about the plans I'm making and anything VIA-, train- or Canada-related.

Mom's craft area with Avery

Friday I tagged along to work with my mother. She facilitates an amazing early childhood education program that encourages the involvement of parents in their children's play and learning. But StrongStart is more: it's a supportive social environment for both the kids (aged zero to 4 years) and their adult companions. Parents play with their children while chatting with other parents or caregivers, sharing stories, resources and laughs. The 1.5 classrooms my mother has managed to lay stake to is full of anything a child may wish to touch, smell, squish, throw, jump on or dress up in. Her classrooms are divided into various sections: Science, Literacy, Circle Time, Craft, etc. When I joined her on Friday, I pulled up a mini chair at the Craft area and barely left!

Why did I feel so at home with the construction paper, hole-punchers, markers, glue, aluminum foil, dried leaves, crayons, glitter...? On either side of the mini table I sat at, there were shelves of well-organized supplies. The kids (i.e. me) can reach for whatever they want and start creating something immediately.

I was comfortable in that space because it reminded me of the similar, yet more extensive, craft area my mother had established in our family home. Descending the stairs into the basement of our three-story, five-bedroom, four-bathroom, huge-backyard house, one would be greeted with a room packed top to bottom with dress-up clothes, paint, paper of every weight, old cards, Sculpey Clay, different yarns and strings, stamps and ink, scissors of every size...and then some.

I would get lost for hours down in that basement when I was a child. And emerge proudly with whatever creature, painting, school project or mini installation I'd set my mind on doing that afternoon.

My mother likes to mention (mainly to other parents) the haunted house I built when I was about 10 years old. From cardboard, I measured, cut, painted and lined with foil the detached old house. I made trick-or-treaters from Sculpey, trees from crafters paper and mounted it all on another piece of cardboard. A tea candle was placed inside to let the windows glow in the night. I loved it myself, and recall doing it just because I wanted to. No school project, no reason to impress someone. Well, it was probably to impress my mother because I did always love (even if I didn't realize it) her adoration.

--

Friday morning, as the children arrived at their own pace with their caregivers, I did odd jobs for Mom. She introduced me as they tottered in, washing their hands before finding their name on the photo board. "Hi Avery!" I heard her exclaim (though she does get this excited for all the munchkins). I'd heard about Avery before but never met her the few times I've been into StrongStart previously. Mom has been struck by this three-and-a-half year old because, a she states herself, she is reminded of me. So I turned around and was introduced to my mother's flashback. She is a darling, if I may say so, with her cute wool tights, brown skirt and braided pig-tails. She stared at me when my mother says to Avery's mother: "Avery reminds my husband and I of Jocelyn when she was a little girl." Avery's head kind of cocked to the side as her blue eyes took me in. Was she thinking, "Is this what I'm going to turn out like?" I was from that point on a little bit more aware of who I am at this very moment in time.

Avery and I connected a few times that morning, predominantly at the Craft area. (Heart!) We made crayon rubbings of leaves on aluminum foil, then covered them in coloured glue and sparkles. We took turns drawing animals. "You're missing something," she told me as I finished up my giraffe. "Hmm, how about a top hat?" I offered. Her giggle was shy but I could tell she was warming up for more mischief. "You're still missing something." After I added his hooves, eyes, a bow tie and a green leaf to munch on, she still insisted something was missing: "He has no hands!"

Now, due to the various educational institutions I worked my way through, and perhaps from my parents' own methods, I've become a pretty structured person. I'm creative, and enjoy my imagination, but adding hands to an animal that I know full-well doesn't have hands goes against everything realism and science tests have forced me to know. Yet something on Friday had me think, Why not? Why not give the giraffe hands? Why stick to the boundaries you already know? Why not create something new, something unknown, something honest? For Avery, there was no question that this drawing of a giraffe should and could have an additional body part. And I want to be more like Avery. If she is similar to something I once was, I'd like to experience it again. I just left a very long-term relationship in which I lost myself. I am just emerging from it. I want to find out who I am, what it is I truly like and love. What are my passions, my dreams. What animals do I want to put hands on?

Next week I think I'll go back in and hopefully see Avery. I'll draw a bicycle with wings. A train full of talking flowers. And hopefully she can tell me more about what I'm missing.

Favourite photo

Thankful for...

All the love in my life.

I know, kind of cliche. But it's the honest truth. There's little that love cannot reasurre one about the anxieties or unknowns of life. And from the moment I woke today, I was in touch with those I love and feel love from: immediate family (who were fortunately in immediate proximity today) and my lovely friends (who were unfortunately too far to hug, but close enough thanks to txt msgs. Oh hai, friend!)

S and B arrived in the AM (crazy cats, rising at 5am to ferry over!) and the feasting began promptly. Attempts to burn calories were done by trekking (very lightly) through Courtenay's trails. Smells of recently-procreating salmon filled the air around the river. We found a rope swing, a hand-shaped stump, several slugs and Sam's new theme tune (including enough laughs to burn perhaps that extra dallop of ice cream I had for dessert. Nah.).

"I love animals. All they do is live to have babies.
And lucky for us humans, that means more for us to eat."
(Sam)

No mounting horses?

-----

Then more food was prepared; we could have fed an extra two people most definitely.

Favourite twists on Thanksgiving staples included: brussel sprouts sauted in butter with roasted almonds, sweet potatoes with browned marshmallows, local baby carrots in lemon and honey. Mom's stuffing shall never be tampered with, and the bird came out pretty near perfect - a feat worth noting considering my parents' technique of wrapping the cooked bird in towels and storing in a cooler til serving time. Sangria and white wine flowed but the Wagner's don't get too rowdy with alcohol, just a little slurry and fatigued. We were reasonable and gave ourselves an hour between sets. So prior to the pies we (I) did the dishes and the Ontario Oma was telephoned.

"Just stay healthy, Jocelyn. Don't pack too much in either."

Well, in regards to dinner, such advice was perhaps a little too late. But I'm taking it to heart for my travels. Danke, Oma.

Eating and games go hand-in-hand with this family.
Dutch Blitz and Sequence were the favourites today.

Web-posting conscious

The filter in my conscious and judgement needs a tune-up: without thinking, I posted on Facebook a video of a peer doing the student speech for my convocation ceremony. I wasn't personally fond of his delivery, but, as another peer commented on the video, "props to him" for facing such a challenge. Could I have done a better job? Perhaps I could have done a different job, but it still would have been nerve-racking. Alas, it was poor manners of me to publicly criticize him. So, although no one but my sister reads this blog, I apologize. (My fingers are crossed that no one else but Joni, Michele and Wisam saw the video and my comments.)

Chairlifts and Retail [Fun]

Up, up went the (free) chairlift to the peak of Mount Washington today. It was my first time to this mountain. Though there was no snow, it was cold enough to remind me of what to pack for my upcoming winter travels (namely, a good toque and lots of layers).
Turns out my mother is a bit nervous about chairlifts. I love my sister's giggle. And my father's smile.

Netbook or NOTbook?
Later in the afternoon, I dragged my sister out to Future Shop with me to browse their netbooks. I'd done my research and was under the impression that all models offered pretty much the same thing. I went with the cheapest one (Acer's 11.6" Aspire One) and am in the midst of testing it out now. I have under two weeks before I leave for Europe. I have a few issues with it, but so far it connects to the Internet well enough, and I can blog pretty well; the keys are a happy size for my fingers and the whole things is pretty damn light (2.7 lbs). I'll have my verdict before I leave.

moving/leaving home

Yesterday I officially graduated from university. I donned the official gown and cap, picked up the official piece of paper, and walked across the stage to have my hand shook by an official. The weather was brilliant as the small group of us proceeded behind a troop of bagpipers, across the AQ's pond and down the steps of SFU's unique architecture. I had several friends there, some in gowns with me, others with cameras and hugs. My parents and sister made the journey to celebrate too.

Me and Sammy!

And then the move began. Apparently Vancouver on a Thursday evening is not the time to be in a vehicle. Alas, we had little choice. From the mountain to The Drive, between my parents and I (with the vicious cat locked away in the bathroom), we hauled my belongings into the back of my father's truck. Stuck in bottle-neck chaos crossing the Iron Workers' Memorial bridge, we accepted our 9 o'clock sailing fate. Tarp-n-rope trouble caused my dad a bit of frustration as we headed north up the Island but he got us safely home by half midnight. Thank you, Dad, for moving me yet again.

I'm sad to have left Vancouver. However for the past month (at least) I've been itching to leave its unsmiling inhabitants, crazy traffic, and Olympic anticipations. Such feelings began to change as friends expressed their sadness about my approaching absence. I always knew I had good friends but perhaps this last week I realized how good of friends I truly have. I may have just moved 'home' to my parents', but I feel more like I just left home. They will know how much they mean to me, though, as I have many intentions and methods of maintaining relationships across distance and time.

Tuesday night was the launch party for my student's magazine, InContext. I did the redesign and publishing of this issue as the final two credits of my degree; I admit, I'm pretty proud of the end result. We showcased other students' design work at the party and feasted on tasty appies. Very nice to sit down with my fellow keeners over a beer and red wine!Brianna and Tamarah!Cam and Andrea!Me and Gabriel!
Oh, and I have to mention the delight I tasted Wednesday during my first visit to Deep Cove: fresh, homemade honey doughnuts at Honey's. Oh. My. Dense yet fluffy. Crispy outside, soft inside. Honey (and fat) oozing throughout. I stuck with the basic honey version, though there were alternative temptings with chocolate or maple glaze atop (I kid you not). Strongly recommend a coffee to balance out the sugar.

First day of the last week...or less

I normally wake early on weekday mornings to cycle to work. Work being childcare. I tend to do 3 hours in the mornings, taking a set of 2-year-old twins out into the parks of Kitsilano, feeding them their snack, changing a diaper or two, before returning them to their father. It was a beautiful day today and would have been a lovely morning to toddle about with munchkins. However their father requested an evening shift and I obliged. So the morning was for me: I remembered how much I love having mornings to myself.

Commercial Drive is lovely in the autumn. As busy and eccentric as it was in the summer, the locals seem to be the main type of folk I see since the temperature has dropped. It's a bit of a shame I'm moving. Nah, strike that – I've had some good times in this apartment but it's time to depart. I can always return to this neighbourhood.


I saw my good friend, Missy, today. She recently moved to Vancouver from Penticton with her boyfriend. All going well, I'll be crashing with them in their lovely duplex during the Olympics. They recently adopted an SPCA kitten, formerly known as Nelson, currently nicknamed Thor (short for Sir Thor Oswald Harris VII...I too did not know cats could be knighted, but that is my Missy for you).
We dined at Applause on Oak and 67th, enjoying reasonably priced, well-stocked bento boxes for lunch and chatting about travelling in Europe. Missy did a bit in May and June of this year on her own. She was encouraging of my 'planned spontaneity' approach and bid me farewell with a winter jacket of hers as a loan to keep me warm. It will return to her hopefully as white as I've taken it.

I've got to find some tips on photographing hands if I'm going to make my project worthy of viewership. Marc of Take Out Photo says "meaning is conveyed in a person's hands. ...how to do a portrait of hands: show them in action. Capture the mechanic at work. Capture the child finger painting. Show hands turning the pages of a book. Hands holding a favorite possession. You get the picture."

Hands des amis

This weekend I had the chance to pitch my travelling project idea to several friends. All seemed quite happy to have their hands photographed. I try to encourage them to pose however they wish, to show whichever hand for whatever reason. I'm trying to capture their own expression.

Unfortunately I'm not sure how well this trusty old Canon IXUS is going to work, as the flash is quite obnoxious. Not a flattering flash in the slightest. Do I spend some money and hope for a better camera/flash? Or save the $200 and use it while in Europe? I'm thinking the latter. I'll have to get creative with alternative lighting.

Kyle and Michele: Friends from university. Michele and I lived together for a year in townhouses at SFU; Kyle is her lovely boyfriend. We enjoyed brunch together on Saturday at Two Chefs and a Table, east of Gastown. Kyle's uncle is co-owner and chef. I had the amazing strawberry apple pancakes with vanilla butter, syrup and beautiful hashbrowns.

Shina: A former childhood acquaintance and reunited friend through university residence. Joined us for brunch. She got into the hand posing, wanting to include her allergy bracelet and offer 'vertical depth' to her hand pose.
Courtney: Fellow Communication student, and Crafty Lady. The group of us made cupcakes Saturday afternoon (my sister's Dr Pepper recipe was a hit). As you can see, I tried to avoid use of the flash. Not so successful. But the cinnamon cream cheese icing on that mini cake still looks fantastically teeth-rotting.
Jen: my best friend. We grew up together, leading sports teams and joining forces on school projects. After losing touch over a few years, we reappeared in each others' lives during rocky relationships and fortunately get to hang out once a week – even despite the trek from White Rock to Vancouver. She was slightly self-conscious of her self-claimed 'sausage fingers' though I have to disagree; her hands are strong and suit her caring yet assertive personality. Her ring is from Mexico, and is the same as ones on both her mother and sister's hands.

Had a bit of a 'sleepy' brainstorming session with my sister last night, pondering the ways we could maintain our creative desires yet satisfy the need to make money (not-for-profit style). I'm about to embark on a budget-travel stint for about four months and the $2500 in my bank account is not likely going to stretch that time. So I'm going to be looking for creative ways to get by.

I also want a project while I'm away. Something that acts as a daily goal but also a method of documenting my experiences. On a relevant tangent: Recently my mind has been returning to tattoo ideas. Never have I considered an image worthy enough to permanently embed into my skin until I got thinking about what is important to me, what represents something I care strongly about. I thought of my mom, my sisters, my friends, my father, my significant other on the other side of the planet, and all the loves I hope to meet and cultivate in the future. My tattoo idea is a line drawing of my mother's hand, formed in the shape of the ASL sign for I love you. Should I want to add anything to the tattoo in future years, I would use the folds and lines of her palms to trace the names of those I love.

Anyway, this leads me to my travelling project idea. I love hands, and I love what people do with their hands. I also love making things with my hands: something tangible, with texture, smells and depth. (Hence my desire to get into publishing.) So I'm thinking of documenting all the hands I meet along my travels. It's going to take some confidence on my part to ask a new stranger-come-friend to photograph their hands, but if I have a little 'pitch' about my project, perhaps it would intrigue them? I would then like to free-hand sketch each hand into a notebook, so I have digital and a hard copy. My favourite way to draw hands is the one-touch line drawing exercise many people probably did in their youth during art classes. You stare at the object you're drawing, never glance at the paper on which you're drawing, and never take your pen off the paper. Your drawing is one continuous line. Kind of like this!

I have ideas of where I want to go while in the UK. I want to find the towns and cities that have a bicycle culture, where I can rent a bike and see how extensive their bike routes or designated roads are. Unfortunately for these places, I will be using Vancouver as my bar for comparison, though comparing isn't my goal: it's to meet people with common interests (bikes) and stay active (burn calories so I can eat calories). I also want to find the communities where pro-literacy/book making/zine creating/craft selling/etc lives. I want to find little literary-related gems and send them home to my sisters in Vernon and Vancouver, my mom (and dad) on Vancouver Island, my girlfriend in Halifax, and my lovely best friend in Whiterock. I love mail, both sending and receiving. So my next idea is to utilize my blog as a portal for meeting people who want to receive mail from places on my travels. Should I charge them? It wouldn't make me money, but it would help cover costs of postage. I could take tips from David Horvitz, who's art project helps him do things he wants to do while providing a bit of joy and entertainment for those willing to part with a few bucks.

Going back to my tattoo idea and my hand project ("hand job"?), Thanksgiving is approaching and my family of five will be gathering in Courtenay for a day. I plan to take photos of everyone's hands, and perhaps a family hand portrait? (Question mark inserted here as invitation for my sister to post her comment, as she is the only one reading my blog thus far.)

volunteering and networking

Volunteering and networking: the former I've done a lot of, the latter I am slowly improving upon. Today, I did both.

Word on the Street is an annual event here in Vancouver, held at the downtown Public Library. 'Twas my first year volunteering at the event, but not my first time volunteering at a large-scale event (I've also done the 2009 Juno Awards, Terry Fox Runs, etc.). I had a generally positive experience today, helping set up the silent auction items and then aiding my sister in her assigned duties at the Information Booth. Unfortunately, my lovely sister did not have such a great time, having been ignored by the Volunteer Coordinator and left to run the manic stand solo. Not having been briefed properly on all the 'information' we might need to know during the course of the day, both my sister and I were finding (read: educationally guessing?) the answers as best we could, in between selling t-shirts and loot bags. There were a handful of bitter members of the public, appalled at us for not 'having information at the information tent' (oh, that particular woman was not even helping herself make sense) which I think left my sister jaded by the volunteering experience.

This is a conclusion I've seen come to many a good-natured, time-giving volunteer after large-scale events that were not well prepared (yet very reliant on volunteers). Many events could not run successfully without the unpaid time and patience of volunteers. They turn out to be the face of the event, and sometimes take the brunt of the public's frustration. I'm sorry to those people we could not help today, but I hope you at least found our Volunteer Coordinator to divulge your displeasure.

As for networking, I've been challenging myself to do it. Almost ruthlessly. Like connecting the dots, or picking Door A after Door D, hoping that one will lead to the next opportunity. From a former professor, to the director of a masters' program, to a children's author, to an introduction to a publisher willing to take on interns...I hope I have a door opening for me upon my return from travelling. It's kind of exciting. I know it comes down to my enthusiasm and perseverance, though, and should I pause to dither-dather over whether to e-mail a new contact or not, the door may close with a loud sigh in my face. So no hesitations for me. The rest of my life is a head of me and I want to knock on all the doors.

Blog to read blogs

I don't blog much. I simply blog to read others' blogs. At this point, the pool of creativity out in this world is too vast for me to contribute without browsing through some of its contents. And to start, I'm taking tips from my blog-experienced sister and scouting out all her favourites. Copying is flattery, in my opinion.