Sunday, December 27, 2009

I Lift My Eyes to the Mountains

(Canmore, AB)
The mountains are these barriers, these necessary stoppers that hold back your thoughts, that rein in insanity. On the prairie, your eyes can outstretch themselves, your soul can go too far waiting for some thing to catch it, snag it, slow it down.
They contain you, cradle you in their stony arms. It is possible to be completely flat, 2-D, on the prairie. You scream until your lips bleed and the sound goes out, out, out, skimming the fields until it falls off the edge of the earth. The mountains echo it back to you, and you feel stone in your bones. You ingest the rock and scraggly pines and diamond water until it leaks out of your pores and your eyeballs and you smell like dust and spice and you can see with a vision that is unnaturally clear and you taste time on your tongue.

The mountains have been here for a long time. Prairies remind man of his mortality, that life is finite. He is bound to the soil, to the trees that fade in the neverending wind. He harnesses the land to his own use, and ruins it.
You cannot rule the mountains: you must eke out a niche for yourself. You must give and give and give. Life is not about the getting: it is about the giving.

Travelling: once in a while when two strangers meet they feel a connection. This is not a fondness, or a love even, but a snagging of souls: they cannot help it. Even more rarely, but sometimes it occurs, is when the strangers do something about it. They may strike up a conversation, but most often they stare and wonder and selfishly create dreams that can be seen only by themselves.
It is most tragic when the strangers do start talking. They have given in to the magnetism, and for a while (whether this be a minute, a day, or even a lifetime) they are blissfully happy and the souls paint pictures and create much out of nothing. Often, this will lead to something more lasting, a sacrifice and a giving-in on someone's part. But, when you are a traveller, and your soul snags on another traveller's: well then, beware. For the very thing that pulls you together will without a doubt pull you apart.
It is not sentimental. It is slightly tragic, but the people it most often affects are also the kind of people who will smile bitterly and say "hey, it's life: chalk it up to experience," and move on. They must move on, for even if they wanted to stay, to wallow and sink, their very being would revolt. It is in the travelling that they are saved.
And I am saved.
And I have been saved.
And I will be saved.

Friday, December 18, 2009

You know it's me, not you. Who said anything about you?

taken this summer at Movies in the Square...when the city plays a movie on a giant screen at the main city square downtown's free, it's fun, it is a great idea! but it takes so long to get dark enough, haha.

I am realizing how much i love this small city. While of course the big ones are often better, this one suits me just fine...we seem to fit together. I love becoming friends with so many people, you run into acquaintances everywhere, and it's a little bit spooky because it is almost guaranteed that when you meet a new person, they will know some of your other friends randomly. You also have to be careful about what you say...because EVERYONE knows EVERYONE, a nasty comment can backfire. Or, like me last night at the Black Dog, you can be crushing on a guy in a black hat, while your new gay friend is telling you about the awkward two dates he just had with this really sweet, really cute guy who never called him back. And then it turns out your black hat boy is the "really sweet, really cute guy" who comes over because a friend is trying to set you up, and then they end up making out, and so while someone got his wish, i did not get mine. BUT, luckily, black hat boy brought a friend who turns out to be a local, well known swim-suit designer who decided he wants me to do some work for him. SO, the night wasn't a total bust.

Also, i am going to the mountains for some snow-boarding: leaving sunday, arriving home after Christmas. I am so excited; i haven't been boarding in two years! And i'm going with a great group of friends too, so that should be good.
Last thing: my favourite part of working during the "holiday season" is saying "merry Christmas" to everyone. I force it on customers; in fact i almost say it viciously. It is so much fun. Try it some time.

Wednesday, December 16, 2009

Oh Wherefore Art Thou

I sometimes get curious when i lose things. My pencil, my self-respect, my summer...i don't know where it could have gone. Sure, i did things: i worked, hung out with friends, had the cliche summer boyfriend, but what did i do of lasting value? Normally my summer's are chock full of educational trips across the world or to the interior of Canada or to the local park, and self-realization and discovery. But this summer...i am not quite sure how it slipped through the cracks quite so fast. And what do i have to show for it? Three rolls of film (, a journal full of illegible entries, and a head full of split-second memories.
See, this is what i don't want my life to be like. It happens so fast, things go by so quickly, and i want to grab them, snatch time by its coat-tails and say hey, slow down a sec. I didn't quite catch that last part there- where did you say my 20's went?
I feel a sense of urgency. Maybe it's because i'm getting older, maybe it's the culture we live in. But i can't- i just can't- slow down. I am rolling down a hill, and i only get going faster and faster the farther i roll.
Maybe this is the rest of my life: half-glimpses and almost-forgotten memories. Oh please, let it not be this way. I want to savour things! I want to hold the wine in my mouth and let the flavours seep into my palette! I want to smell the roses, and wait for the bread to rise, etc etc. I don't want to see the world... I want to experience it: not just sight, but touch, taste, smell. And I feel like my window of opportunity is closing, fast.

Monday, December 14, 2009

Drink Ourselves Awake

(photo by )
My neck is really long. Hmm, but what can i do, right? you can fix most things about yourself these days, but i haven't heard of any neck surgeons making necks longer, or, in my case, shorter.
It's not really too long. It just looks like it goes on forever in this photo. In reality, i love my neck. I love my body too. Even the imperfections. I wouldn't change anything about myself. I hope that this self-love lasts until i die. I want to be 40, and 60, and 90, and love my wrinkles and grey hair and sagging thighs and cellulitey-butt. I think that stunning, other-worldly beauty is found in the mistakes...the little details that take away from perfection. This, combined with a beautiful heart and soul make for a truly beautiful woman. All the people that i consider to be the most stunning i have ever seen are like this.
Exams are done. Today i diagnosed people of all ages and backgrounds, and actually had fun doing it. I think it is one of my favourite things to do. Is that weird? It is like "House", but real life.

I miss my friend J and my cousin J today. I don't often "miss" people...i am used to not having everyone i love around me all the time. But today, strangely, i was filled with nostalgia and melancholy...not a lot, just enough to make me sigh once or twice. It's alright though.

Sunday, December 13, 2009

The Thirteenth

Today. Today I am proud to say that I am living in the coldest city on the planet. It is a sort of accomplishment, and while it's not of my own doing, it is exciting none-the-less. Something to tell the grandchildren, you know. Yesterday was very cold too, but that didn't stop us from going out. There was a Christmas party (dinner and dance) waaay out in the country, and K and I decided to car-pool with her posse of boys out there. It was nice. A bit scary driving on the roads polished smooth as glass, with a fog hanging low over the ground- it is so cold that every molecule of liquid in the air freezes, so even though the sky is clear it is hard to see. And then you get ice on the inside of your windows too, from breathing. At the party I got to talk to a guy from my youth, who had been in Scandinavia for a few years, and it was surprisingly enjoyable. He worked on his girlfriend's goat farm this summer, and I thought that that was absolutely fantastic: how like something out of a book. I felt a bit out of place, as usual, but sucked it up and had a fun time anyways. Every few hours, the guys would go outside and run their cars for a while, to stop them from freezing up and not starting. And then this morning, it was -46, and our bedroom windows had ice inside them, and my nose was cold, and the day was sunny and frighteningly soft...when it gets very cold it is not "crisp and clear": all the plants, trees, buildings, even the horizon, are fuzzy. And the sunny sky makes it colder, for when there are clouds it holds a bit of heat in.

Friday, December 11, 2009

Where Do You Go To, My Lovely?

Versailles in early March.
There is something i have to say about Paris. I feel something towards this city that is akin to emotions i feel towards other human beings. I love it, as most romantic young girls do, desperately with a hunger and a longing that is like loving heaven... putting it on a pedestal in the hopes that it will fulfill my wildest dreams. I do the same with guys, and both never fail to disappoint. It is not wise to put all your eggs in one basket, nor is it wise to worship something/someone who cannot ever love you back. Paris, when i think of it as the City of Dreams, always crashes those dreams to the ground, only to erect a new monument in the rubble- it will not let you be in control. You have to give in, give up your expectations, and let the city show you what it can be...and let me tell you, it is something far better than a Utopia.
It is not always beautiful. Paris can be very dirty, and has that "big city" smell of dust and oil and rotting garbage that most major cities in the world have. It has a certain arrogance, that snubs you and crushes your confidence. The sun does not always shine in Paris. Sometimes it is constantly cold and wet and grey. BUT...there is something in the air. The dirty, smelly air, that sucks you in and, if you let it, will transform you. Everything you do, everything you see, even the horrid people and disturbing scenes, feels like it has been taken out of a book or movie. A story-line with you at the centre.
And you, as the central character, are the pivotal person in so many stranger's lives. If Paris has stripped away your bravado, it gives you back this: the certain je ne sais quoi that comes from believing, truly, that who you are and every action you do matters, and is key to the world's turning. It is not egotism. It is fact. Paris makes every little thing significant: smoking a cigarette while leaning against a bridge. Dropping a book and picking it back up again. Half-smiling when you pass an attractive man (or woman) on the street. A blink of the eye. Turning your face to the sun. Sighing slightly while drinking a petite cafe alone. Flipping your scarf over your shoulder. It all matters.
One of my favourite Paris memories is not a romantic encounter, or a split-second glimpse that haunts me for the rest of my life. It takes place when i was 18, travelling around the world, and at this time i was with my cousin J and her friend N. We had been in Paris for about a week, and after eating out for dinner almost every night had decided to try and save our money by buying bread (baguette of course) and cheese (something as foreign as possible) and fruit juice and sparkling water, which was very cheap. We ate bread and cheese for days. And I mean at least two meals a day were bread and cheese. It sounds terribly romantic, but in reality you go to bed hungry, wake up hungry, and start salivating when you see other people eating food on the street. So one day we decided that in order to distract ourselves from our growling stomachs and shortening tempers, we would take the train out of the city and spend the day at Versailles. We packed some bread and cheese, a few pieces of fruit, and (to save room in our bags) mixed the rest of the fruit juice in with the sparkling water. Dressed up in cute black frocks and scarves, we thought it would be sunnier out in the country, so we didn't bring coats, just layers of cardigans. We had an eventful time. Our train broke down halfway out of the station. We hadn't bought the correct tickets, so we hopped the gate with some ugly American boys who picked us up. We got to was raining. It was cold. We decided, after an hour and a half of wandering around the dead gardens, to try and see inside the palace. We waited in line for another hour, before we decided it was too expensive. So we found a little nook in the forest, out of the wind and sheltered from the rain, and sat on a stone bench and shiveringly ate our bread and cheese. We decided to go back to the city as soon as possible, since we were as miserable as could be.
Cold, wet, and in foul moods, we sat on the train and didn't speak to one another. Looking out at the darkening, sodden countryside we sunk into our own thoughts. Then, N decided she was thirsty. So she pulls out the plastic bottle, and starts to loosen the cap...BANG! With an explosion like a shot-gun, the lid goes rocketting off into space and juice goes everywhere. People on the train scream, and everyone ducks. The three of us look at each other in shock. Was that our fault? Then, because we are too scared to be embarrassed, we start laughing. And laughing and laughing and laughing and laughing. We talked about it for days, and decided afterwards not to mix fruit juice and sparkling water again. We also decided to start eating at least one decent meal a day. And so what could have been a terrible day turned out to be quite amusing.

And so is where i will live some day. I love it, i hate it, but it always surprises me. There is no city like it on earth...and if you let it, it can leave its indelible mark on your soul. If you build it up in your mind it will destroy your expectations, but if you let it move you, you will be changed.

Thursday, December 10, 2009

Some Warm Memories

J looks so funny. He was only 8 or something here. I love the rashie, wrap-around sunnies, and gap-toothed smile. So cute.
I don't know why my family hardly talks about some of our adventures. For me, I personally don't like to talk about it because i feel it makes me sound like a snob. Even when people mention a place that I've been, i rarely say whoa, i've been there! When people do find out more about my life (thanks to friends like K, who likes to set me up with boys by saying "this is a, she has lived all over the world") they are often surprised that i haven't mentioned it before. It's a slightly touchy subject...i would hate to sound like i'm bragging. Only when it is completely necessary do i bring up some of the most exciting aspects of my past.
This is taken when we lived in Perth, Australia. I was 13 or 14 in this picture, and i look a right sight! I was attending Iona Presentation College, an all-girls Catholic boarding school. I looked hilarious in my summer uniform, and those ugly brown shoes were required...i can't believe i turned out as normal as i have!
This is sister D, on one of our vacation trips to Rottnest Island. She is petting one of the sting-rays that liked to come in the shallows.
Awkward, young-teenage me.
My father is the one in green, and the other couple is Colin and Helen. We met them in Fremantle, and they became (and still are) some of my family's greatest friends. While they have no children our age, they are still fun to hang out with, and we have met them all around the world as they like to travel with us. Travelling with them means good food and lots of wine!

Tuesday, December 8, 2009

Is love a lie?

This is my "belief in summer days" picture. It reminds me of good things...warm weather, being outside, good food, no worries, being incandescently happy with life and the people in my life.

(backstage at Fashion with Compassion, October 2009)

It is one of my favourite songs, along with many other people. (Winter Song, by Sarah Bareilles). The funny thing is, i always thought the line "is love alive?" was actually "is love a lie?". On the surface these two mean the same sort of thing, but i like is love a lie better. In my bitter, sunken- in-thought days, where the light is far away and everything is grey and muted, love is a lie. A beautiful lie, but not truth. On those days, truth is what you can hold tangible in your hand, and truth is what you tell yourself it is. Love is a figment of thought, a sort of chloroform for the masses. And on those concrete, grey days, the chloroform is often welcome. Other times the pain is better...though it is ugly it sharpens life around you, and it is like breathing in the air these cold it freezes your snot, so cold that if you breathe through your mouth you choke and cough, so cold it aches in your marrow, but it is better to feel this pain, this aliveness, this surge of blood in your veins and the clenching of your lungs and every pin-prick of ice than to feel the numbness of love. Sigh. As you can guess, today is one of those grey, bitter days. But i must- i MUST- believe in summer days. And consequently, love. So, to answer the real question of the song (is love alive?) I have to say yes.
Cool thing of the day: song lyrics

I still believe in summer days
The seasons always change,
And life will find a way.

They say that things just cannot grow,
Beneath the winter snow,
Or so I have been told.

Is love alive?

Monday, December 7, 2009

The Twelveth

I have a feeling i should revive the "cool" project. One thing today that i think is cool...
Today was very cold. Minus 27. It is insane. My friend Katinka came into my cafe today while i was working, and the stupid girl wasn't wearing a hat or a hood. I bugged her about it for a while, because she is loud and crazy and loves to tease people. She is one of the most out-going people i know. Anyways, eventually she said to me:
"Hey. I know the importance of wearing a head covering in -27. I have lived here my whole life, and so that lesson is in my bones. I gave my hat to a homeless man I saw who didn't have one, 'k?"
and she left it at that. I almost started crying. Not just the very kind-hearted fact that she gave her hat to someone who needed it more than she did, but the fact that she didn't come in bragging about it. She was reluctant to show how kind she had been, and that touched my soul. I wish I could be more like Katinka. I wish we all could be more like Katinka. Not just doing good deeds, but expecting no reward for them either. I think that is very cool, very cool indeed.


When i was babysitting the boyz, J and A came over and we made a music video to The Rocket Summer's Gotta Believe, and we got put in their real life music video for that song, which is so cool if you ask me.

1:37 bottom left corner...the three crazy people rocking out in someone's (ahem) kitchen. I think that is one of my favourite activities...dancing around and acting completely wild to great music. When you don't care what people are thinking, it truly adds a special sparkle to your movements.

Sunday, December 6, 2009

Smoking Men (and one old hag)

This is inside my smoking man.
The top and bottom half just slide apart, while the cone of incense sits on a little tin plate.
This is what they look like when the incense inside them is lit. The smoke pours out of their mouths, and looks quite cool.
This is mine. Dad says he chose it because i paint too.
This is my sisters. Dad says he chose it because they are both old hags. Just joking!
And this is my brother's. Because they are both male. So original, Papa.
Also, more pictures of me are up on Flikr...

Saturday, December 5, 2009

The Eleventh

Il fait tres froid, au jourd'hui. Also, there was a snow storm all day yesterday and last night, and the snow is blown into HUGE drifts! We haven't seen snow like this since the first year we moved here, and the mild-coast girl in me rejoices at the exoticness of it all. I was out shovelling yesterday, and there is so much of it that there is nowhere to pile it- it is quite a strange phenomenon to be standing there, holding a shovel full of white powder, and looking around for a place to dump it. It is piled up high against the fence, and we can't dump it in the where does it go?
Yesterday we decided to start decorating the house for Christmas, since my grandmere is coming to visit for a while. She always bakes the most lovely Christmas stuff, and when she visits the house smells good all the time. She is also a very interesting person: she discovered a love of travel when my grandfather died a few years ago, and she is almost always off on some jaunt around the world now, taking cruises and exploring Hong Kong by herself. She and her sisters (also widows) also like to take off unexpectedly on road trips down to California, or Mexico, or across the country. She is fluent in German, shorthand, and loves to read. Oh, also knitting and crocheting. And embroidery. She plays the piano, organ, and has a wonderful voice.
We have these lit up stars that we bought this year, and we have strung them across our kitchen window. Although slightly tacky, they look amazing in the dark, and fill the kitchen with a sun-set type of glow that warms up the soul. I cancelled all my going-out plans last night because of the storm, and opted to stay home: my parents were hosting a "German party" in honour of my dad's trip, and so lots of friends braved the treacherous roads and came to our snug and warm home, bearing good things to eat and drink. Us young people watched "A White Christmas" in the spirit of the season, while the "olds" played in the kitchen. We all gathered round the dining room table, and feasted on roast pork, red cabbage, potato dumplings, and other delicacies. There was even German apple wine, which i thought tasted horrid- i like to think i have mature tastes when it comes to food and drink, but this was undrinkable, and even after a few tries it didn't grow on me. I have to go study now, but it was a wonderful warm night.

Friday, December 4, 2009

Victor Murray

This is in Baccarach, Germany, where we split up. He was going to Munich to see a friend of ours for the third time, and i was continuing on to see more Germany, Holland, and Poland, and hopefully meet my family somewhere!
This is very typical "Victor and I"...wearing some of the most inappropriate shoes ever to hike up some Alps. At least we looked good doing it!
Hahaa, if it looks like i am wearing the same outfit in every picture it is because i am! Limited clothing selection combined with the intense heat made for one cute dress worn over and over and over again until it got too dirty to live.
This is typical Victor, doing who-knows-what, wearing no shirt, bad tan lines, and rolled capri pants. It's kind of his thing though, this European-hobo style, and for him it works.
Since there was no A.C. of course, we had the windows down constantly, and as a result i had the biggest knots ever in my hair all the time! Also, i like this picture because it is the brownest i have ever been i think. I met up with Victor after spending a fortnight in Palermo where every day was a beach day, and i became almost orange. Skin cancer alert! But truly i love a bit of natural colour in the summer.
This was one of our typical meals: bread, cheese, and as a treat some proscuito ham. We would eat some gummy bears for dessert, and a piece of fruit or a a vegetable. I remember our breakfast were usually these awful plastic-y muffins, but they were so full of preservatives that they lasted forever! Oh, and instant coffee. Cold. Oh, and beer. It was our routine to get beer at the last gas-station of the night (where we washed our faces and brushed our teeth), and it was totally a competition to see who could find the cheapest bottle. The record was 0.79 Euros. Incredible.

This is Bignosco, also known as "Big Nasty" when she overheated. Which was common. It was very hot in Italy, and we would have to pull over and let her cool down, or hit some open highway where the speed of the air through the fan cooled it down enough. But other than that she was a good car. Comfortable for sleeping in.
This is us taking a break from driving, and eating lunch, in some train station in the middle of Switzerland. Yes, we always look this cool.
Talking about Mel a few days ago reminded me of the other good friend i made in Schladming. This is Victor Murray. He is oh, i dont know, 24 or 25 or something, lives along the coast in America, and when not travelling he works odd jobs and such. It's funny, because even though we travelled together (he was the one who bought the instructor's car) and we email back and forth quite regularly, i still dont know that much about him. Let me tell you how i see him though.
I like this picture of him (I took it in some small Swiss village, near the Italian-Switzerland border) the best out of all the pics i have, because even though it's not the most flattering, it is rare to have one of him smiling. I love the wrinkles around his eyes, and the laugh lines. He seems happy and "at peace", and lacking that invisible barrier that some people carry around all the time.
Anyways, so here is the thing about Victor. He is kind of original looking, in the way he dresses and the things he says and does. It scares the suburban chicks away, and makes many people uncomfortable. The first time i ever saw him was in the train station in Salzburg, and i thought he was a hobo! Then he turned up into my compartment, and he had a knife and long hair and a crazy hat and while i wasn't scared, i definitely was a bit wary. But, true to my nature, i love the oddballs and goofs and quirky people the most, and so once he got talking i found that he had the driest sense of humour, and was quick to laugh.
Through all our time in Schladming we didn't hang out that much, but we did get to know one another a bit and were on friendly terms. Afterwards, I heard he had bought the car and was travelling with Andrew for a while. I knew my travelling partner at the time, Hill, was leaving Palermo to go visit her German boyfriend, and so i asked him if i could meet him and Andrew in Alexandria, Italy, and join the crew. He said yes, and when he picked me up at the train station Andrew had given up and gone home, so it was just the two of us. We were a bit awkward at first, but being with someone 24/7 you have to become comfortable and talk or else you will die. And that's when i really got to know him as a person, and not just a crazy American-European-hobo-wannabe. It was great. He was a fabulous travelling partner. We had so many adventures, but it would take too long to talk about even the best ones. To finish up, we have kept in contact over the past year and a half, and i know that if i ever need a "partner in crime" i can count on Victor. He has the best sense of humour, is original and not afraid of what people think, has a noble soul and an old-fashioned sense of chivallry. I think he is, while not one of my "best friends" per se, one of my favourite friends. And that may be the best thing about him.

Wednesday, December 2, 2009

Studying with Mel (and in memoriam of room 22)

I feel like i have been a pretty shallow, surface person the last few months...focused on clothes, boys, fashion, boys, lookbook, boys, etc. and I want to change that. I am not a party-girl; I like to curl up and read books. Often I would rather stay home on a friday night and watch movies with friends than go out clubbing. Of course there are nights when i would go stir-crazy if i stayed in, but as we dive deeper and deeper into the dark depths of winter (haha, alliteration?) i feel like scrubbing my hair up into a pony-tail and schleping around the house in saggy-bummed leggings and wool socks, working on some paintings or baking rock-hard muffins. I find baking to be very soothing in an old-fashioned sort of way, and in certain situations (ie., when everything is right with the world, or when im trying to get over a bad day) i will wait until i am alone in the house and then i will play music and let my mind go blank while mixing and measuring. I have heard that this is quite common. And it works, too! Not only do you work out pent-up anger or frustration, or even excess energy, but you end up with something to eat, some treat that can be shared around.

Anyways, i got distracted. I was going to talk about my friend Mel. Mel and i met a year and a half ago in a small town in Austria called Schladming. We were actually room-mates for three months, in fact, she had the bunk-bed below me. I was really bad at making friends, still am in fact, and my 4 other roommates were not people i wanted to get to know better. Of course, first impressions are terrible and they ended up being my best friends there, but still...i was feeling pretty lonely, and a long way from home. Mel arrived a day later than everyone else, and when she did my heart sunk...i did not want to get to know this sort of emo- dark -haired girl with the eyebrow ring (that i secretly envied) better. But she was so bubbly, so full of fun and energy and witty comebacks that i was won over along with the other 4 girls. But it was when she started singing songs from Grease every morning that i really thought we could become friends. Soon, we were dancing on table-tops to the horror of the quiet villagers and serious students, and crushing over our instructor's bright blue eyes, and the 6 of us roommates came together as a whole force that was not to be reckoned with lightly.

In May we split up...some of the girls went home, some went travelling with other friends...Mel went with her mom and explored the rest of Europe, while I alternately crashed at an acquaintances apartment in Palermo, and caught up with a guy who had bought the blue-eyed instructor's car and we bummed around Italy, Switzerland, and Germany. But it wasn't until I got home in September that Mel and I became as good of friends as we are now. We text each other almost every day, and study for exams with each other over Skype. We are actually "studying" right now (well, she is. Im writing this!). I don't know how i would have gotten through life this past year and a half without her. She always has the best advice, and can make me laugh even when im crying. In fact, she even helped me pick "first date", "second date", AND "third date" outfits over Skype. Now, that's a real pal. SO thank you mel, for putting up with my hare-brained schemes and crazy adventures and strange sayings, and helping me sort out my problems by reminding me that yes, you can do it. And for supporting me in my decisions when no one else does- it means alot. And here's to dancing on the tables in quiet little Schladming, and shocking the stiff and serious: may we always continue to shake things up, whether together or apart. Love!

Tuesday, December 1, 2009


And so with a whole new look, lots of photo's, and a generous amount of entries, i am applying to lookbook...wish me luck!
I got chatted up on the train home from school today. It happens every once in a while, some brave lad will face my stony cold persona and try and ask me out. But today i was wearing my faded old jeans and a heavy wool sweater, and i had a scarf wrapped around my head to keep my ears warm...not exactly attractive! And he was pretty cute too...haha, im not full of it, i swear. It surprises me that anyone would want to ask me out, that's all. What about that sweet, bubbly, little 5 foot 2 girl over there? They get all the boys. Not us tall lanky stone angels. Sometimes guys will surprise though, and take the initiative. Here's to the unexpectedness of boys! Sante!

The Tenth

I am going to change around the formatt of this blog before i apply to Lookbook tonight, (A has already sent in her application! So exciting!) and then i'll do the dirty deed. It shouldn't be as big a deal as we are making it, and after all, we really only need one of us (out of A, D, J, and i) to get in, and then they can invite the rest of us. Yeah, that's the other news. My brother J is going to apply as well. I think he is a shoo-in for sure, as they are always looking for more guys i'm sure. It snowed heavily yesterday. Since it was only -3 or something, it was quite warm, and there was something still and other-wordly about the fat, heavy flakes that made an almost unhearable sound as they landed. Normally i hate walking in the snow/rain, since when the wind picks up it flys into your face, down your shirt, blearing your mascara all over and making your hair curl where really it should be straight, but yesterday there was no wind in the morning and the result was truly a winter-wonderland. Too bad that later in the afternoon the wind picked up, and going to work in the evening was an absolute nightmare. But still, nothing says Christmas in the North like a good snowfall. (It also says "November, December, January, February, March, April, and May!)

Monday, November 30, 2009


as usual, all of these ones and the ones on the previous post are courtesy of

LookBook Trois

The funniest thing about these shots is that the cigarette is just a of the bubble-gum ones my dad brought back from Germany. We sure are having fun with them!

Sunday, November 29, 2009

The Ninth

A lives quite close to the down-town core, and i live just over the river on the university side. So it wasn't difficult to wander around, get changed in the car, and avoid the dumpster diver's leers. And im sure we did make quite a scene...after all, it's what we do.

This was behind one of my favourite diner's downtown. I used to bartend there, once i had graduated high school, in order to make money to go travelling. It made for a wonderfully gritty back-drop.

There was another photo-shoot today, and we tramped through this muddy field to find the perfect shot: i haven't seen the results yet, but i hope they are good! These favourite boots of mine got quite filthy, and i will have to see what can be done to rescue them. While i quite like the whole "grunge" thing sometimes, other times i just like to keep my shoes clean, y'know? Hmmm, Christmas is coming, and that means buying Christmas gifts. I usually spend hours and hours thinking about what to get people, but somehow i never manage to buy the right thing. I am notoriously bad at buying gifts! Last year i got my mother a bag of (albliet) nice coffee...she wasn't too impressed. Ahhh well, I'll try my darndest this year...maybe this time at least one will make someone happy :) Oh! Fathzer got back from Germany last night, and he brought back a wiff of European air with him. We got scarves, chocolate, and these little smoking men...i will post a picture later, as they are difficult to explain. Also, these bubble-gum cigarettes which i was so excited for because i thought they were real at first...nope, just candy! But very realistic, and fun to bug our mother with. He had an amazing trip, got along with Henry just splendidly, and I'm glad they had fun, though just a teensy bit jealous that they got to go in the first place.