Well, that was a blast from the past... Today, an old teacher of mine from Northern Secondary came in with a tour. It seems that in his retirement, he decided to run a tour company... for students. Because he didn't get enough of us as a teacher. He came up to the counter and said, "Hi ! Do you remember me?" I looked at him and thought, is this a crazy man?, but out loud I said, "No, should I?" So it was Mr. Chapman. Let me express how weird it was for him to be excited to see me, considering how he always had a horrid dislike of me when I was his student. It was mutual, of course. He used to go out of his way to say hello to my friends, in my presence, and pointedly ignore me. Despite whether I worked hard, did research for my papers, paid attention, or not, I -always- got 72%. Without exception. (This would be the same teacher for whom a male stripper was hired back in my babysitter's time at Northern, for which she was suspended.) And he was so excited to see me; he HUGGED me.
I feel kinda dirty.
In other news, I'm finally going to see Sin City tonight with Rick. Hooray ! We wanted to see it right when it first came out, but we waited because of various reasons, including a friend joining us (who ended up sick), school, and other such things. Of course, Hitchhikers' Guide opened this weekend, but I'm still on the fence about it. It was such a wonderful book that I'm almost certain the movie will be a pale immitation.
Passover is almost over, which is very good, since being in the city with someone who isn't Jewish, and with 99% of restaurants not catering to a kosher crowd, or not caring one way or the other, it can be a real challenge finding something that I can eat. For instance, today, I was so grateful to the Jewish-owned crepes place, because not only are crepes non-leavened, but they're keeping kosher over the high holiday. It's all over tomorrow, though, until next year (in Jerusalem).
Friday, April 29, 2005
Let's talk a little more about Revelations, hmm? There are a number of forums out there on the web talking about it, and of course, it was "slashdotted" (slashdot.com) shortly after it was released. There's a delicious rumour out there that the team behind "Rev" was all just a bunch of Lucas plants put out to make a fake fan film in order to drum up interest in the forthcoming Episode III, out on May 19th. I'm not one of the gloried CG artists, I don't get all the attention, but my role was significant and I'm very happy to have been a part of it. It is particularly nice knowing that my storyboards really did make it onto the big screen.
The film is doing exactly what it was hoped, its momentum is building and more and more people are taking note. It has surpassed 10,000 downloads, and if each download was watched by two people, which isn't a stretch at all, we're talking about 20,000+ viewers. Not bad for a fan film's first two weeks. The buzz suggests that those at The Ranch have even taken note, and, God, that is bloody exciting. I once applied to work for them, and though I received a rejection letter in the mail, in a weird way... I still win ! I know for a fact that a number of the CG artists at ILM have privately screened it and were impressed... And that means my work, too.
For an article about it, one of many, read this one from the New Zealand Herald. And when they talk about art talent from Canada... they mean me. :)
The film is doing exactly what it was hoped, its momentum is building and more and more people are taking note. It has surpassed 10,000 downloads, and if each download was watched by two people, which isn't a stretch at all, we're talking about 20,000+ viewers. Not bad for a fan film's first two weeks. The buzz suggests that those at The Ranch have even taken note, and, God, that is bloody exciting. I once applied to work for them, and though I received a rejection letter in the mail, in a weird way... I still win ! I know for a fact that a number of the CG artists at ILM have privately screened it and were impressed... And that means my work, too.
For an article about it, one of many, read this one from the New Zealand Herald. And when they talk about art talent from Canada... they mean me. :)
Thursday, April 28, 2005
It is awfully quiet in the house and out in the garden. Willi's strong personality preceded her whereever she went and we are left looking in her spots, despite knowing she isn't there. Even Chester is doing this, although he saw and smelled her body when we brought her back to the house from the front by the road. He isn't pining, but he is clearly lonely, subdued, and every so often, he checks, too, just to see if she's there. There is an empty kitty condo beneath the desk in the den, and a fuzzy brown cat bed with no cat curling up in it. The hardest, though, is at night. She isn't playing with Chester, or yelling for her bedtime snack. She isn't sitting on my dresser waking me up by throwing things onto the floor, and her compact little body isn't curled tightly behind my knees. A night has not passed that I have not cried, even when I was in Toronto this week, even though there is no association of Willi and Rick's apartment, I still wept. There is no little cat riding around on my shoulders, stealing my socks and washing them, or pressing her face to mine. Instead, there is a gaping hole in the fabric of the household.
My mother feels guilt because it happened when she was alone at home. She feels responsible, but I don't want her to. I don't blame her for what happened. It could have easily happened on my watch. Today, Mom was trying to think of ways in which Willi's death could have been prevented, going over the what-ifs, but I don't want to go over them. In the end, they make us feel bad and solve nothing. It happened, it was fast, and Willi is dead. No amount of pondering the circumstances will bring her back. I wish my mother wouldn't feel like it was somehow her fault, it really wasn't and I don't believe that in any way it was her fault.
On Saturday night, before bed, I said goodbye to her. I touched her nose, her paws, pulled her tail out from under her and wrapped it around her legs. I tried to close her eyes, but I don't know if they stayed shut. Mom covered the box she was in, and even when I took her to the vet's, I didn't look at her again. Today, Willi is being cremated. We took her body into the vet's on Monday, and despite the cost of cremation and having the ashes returned, I feel good about it. I will get her ashes back in a week. I'm by no means wealthy and the cost is a burden, especially after the Baltimore trip, but it means I can take her to the cottage one last time and she will get to be there forever. I had wanted to take a week in June to go up there, just her and me, but now I don't think I can bear it. Mom suggested I still could go up, but I don't think I can do it alone. The joy of having her there was too much - I can't do it yet. In August, we can all go up there, and I will take her somewhere she liked to be and lay her to bed.
My mother feels guilt because it happened when she was alone at home. She feels responsible, but I don't want her to. I don't blame her for what happened. It could have easily happened on my watch. Today, Mom was trying to think of ways in which Willi's death could have been prevented, going over the what-ifs, but I don't want to go over them. In the end, they make us feel bad and solve nothing. It happened, it was fast, and Willi is dead. No amount of pondering the circumstances will bring her back. I wish my mother wouldn't feel like it was somehow her fault, it really wasn't and I don't believe that in any way it was her fault.
On Saturday night, before bed, I said goodbye to her. I touched her nose, her paws, pulled her tail out from under her and wrapped it around her legs. I tried to close her eyes, but I don't know if they stayed shut. Mom covered the box she was in, and even when I took her to the vet's, I didn't look at her again. Today, Willi is being cremated. We took her body into the vet's on Monday, and despite the cost of cremation and having the ashes returned, I feel good about it. I will get her ashes back in a week. I'm by no means wealthy and the cost is a burden, especially after the Baltimore trip, but it means I can take her to the cottage one last time and she will get to be there forever. I had wanted to take a week in June to go up there, just her and me, but now I don't think I can bear it. Mom suggested I still could go up, but I don't think I can do it alone. The joy of having her there was too much - I can't do it yet. In August, we can all go up there, and I will take her somewhere she liked to be and lay her to bed.
Monday, April 25, 2005
Before I write about the sad event that occured this past weekend, I must finish my account of last weekend's adventures.
Baltimore - Part the Second
The party following the Premier was better than I'd thought it would be, which isn't saying a whole lot, since I didn't know what to expect at all. The locale, Club One, is a three-storey space with an industrial, techno feel to it, with lots of metal and glass and reflective materials, but tempered with asian-style lanterns hanging from the ceiling. The top floor was VIP space reserved for cast, crew, etc., and the particular people with whom they were attending. The event had some of the tastiest food I've ever eaten at anything comparable. Seafood dips, sushi, noodle dishes, and the best dessert nibblings, ever. Seriously, I could have crammed the little pastries all night. *laugh* What would that have done to my figure, hm? There was also dancing to well spun music, to which a guest accompanied on a congo drum (rather well, I might add), an auction of awesome goods that I could not hope to bid on in support of "Make a Wish", and other neat things. I didn't stay until it closed, I was knackered, but it was well past midnight when we left. In all, a very good evening.
On Sunday, it was check-out time, and then Rick and I headed back into Baltimore proper in order to attend the last in a three-game series of the Yankees at the Orioles. It promised to be a good one, as the O's had been creaming the Yankees. We bought our tickets, which were pretty good, even if they had a "limited view", and then wandered around in Camden Yard, looking for snacks and especially a bank machine. I was delighted to find a kosher snack stand where Rick got a sausage (25 cents less than a normal one) and I got a knish (yes, a knish - in a ballpark !) and large salted pretzel. The pretzel was nothing to write home about, but the knish, which is basically a chubby potato dumpling, was delish ! We had both Orioles and Yankees fans sitting around us, so there was some good cheering. Of course, anything compared to the Toronto stands is rowdy. Also, it was really nice to see a full ballpark, too, with 47,000+ fans in attendance.
After that, we drove back to our friend's house near Washington and decompressed a bit before heading to a Tapas restaurant. Our friend's daughters are a lot of fun, even for adolescent proto-people, and we had a pretty good time at dinner. My plan had been to pay for the meal, since N~ was kind enough to treat us to Indonesean on Thursday night, and because of her hospitality, but upon receiving the bill, I was mortified to discover that I'd left my wallet... In The Car. The car being parked in front of their house, quite some distance away. I was incredibly embarrassed. This has only ever happened once before, when I took a friend to dinner years ago and only had my debit card on me, and they didn't take debit, and there was enough ON the card to pay, but not enough to withdraw enough in the form of $20 bills. Anyway, our friend ended up paying and I promised to send her a cheque upon my return to Canada.
On our return, we put Revelations in the DVD player for some fun. I think they were impressed - everyone is impressed by it ! It was fun to point out bits that I knew were my own, and offer little anecdotal tidbits. I am disgustingly proud of the whole thing. Part of me wishes that I hadn't given up the movie work to work for He Who Shall Not Be Named, considering how that ended up. Oh well. Next time, if there's a next time, I'll know where my priorities DO lie. I digress; then it was time for bed, as Rick and I had a plane to catch in the morning, and N~ had work and the girls had school.
Now, let me tell you about some of the (mis)adventures of the Baltimore trip. It began with a ride to the Buffalo aeroport by Rick's parents. Unfortunately, Rick is not quite the Mapquest maven I am and although he typed in the destination we wanted, what he ended up with was directions to the very centre of Buffalo. We lost about half-an-hour, or more, to driving around in the sad streets of a once-prosperous, now fallen, city until stopping in a mechanic shop to find out where the hell we were going. Rick and I arrived at the aeroport with twenty minutes to our flight. Of course, the days of easy security on internal flights are gone, at least in the USA, so we knew we were in trouble. First we had to find the check-in, which we did, and we were informed that my luggage was late (no shit) and might not make the flight. Okay, no problem, we could wait for it at the other end, it wouldn't take that long. Then, with tickets in hand, we ran to the security clearance only to discover that there were at least sixty people in line. Under fifteen minutes until our flight; we hear my name called over the PA system paging us for our flight. Ten minutes to go. I looked at Rick and said, "Put your sweet face on," took off my sunglasses and proceded to ask very politely if we could skip ahead because we had just been paged. Yes ! Okay, one more part of the queue to hop and we could be golden. I asked again, and YES !
At security, we dumped our stuff into the bins, removed our shoes, and hoped for the best. No problem ! Back into our shoes - nevermind doing them up - into our jackets and we were off and running for our flight. The thought occured to us that our luggage might make it, but we might not. Five minutes or less, now, and we're still running. Halfway up a ramp to the second half of the gates and I see our check-in counter. My lungs are burning, my legs are crying (my bike boots are bloody heavy), and I slow to a brisk walk. At that point, I knew we would be alright, for lo and behold, there was the captain waiting with the ground crew, and the plane isn't going anywhere without him. We made it ! But did our luggage?
At Baltimore-Washington International, after a non-eventful flight ("If you look on your left, you'll see where the West Susquehanna River meets the Susquehanna River...") we waited with anticipation to see if my luggage appeared. It did - the last one through the rubber curtain. Now it was time to pick up the car I had rented. The last time I had rented a car at BWI, things had not gone well. This time proved also to be a challenge. My credit card was declined. Gads ! There was enough money for the car on it, and then some, but the $200+ security deposit the company wanted was too much - remember, there's that tricky little exchange rate. We were informed that they could not run my card through again in the same 24hr period, not even if, as Rick suggested, with a manual authorisation. Bastards ! So, I called up Mastercard, managed to get them to raise my limit by just enough that it didn't require my mother's permission AND would allow me to rent a car from a different company. Now, there was no problem, except that the car was a good hundred bucks more expensive because we were a walk-up, not an advanced booking. ARRRRRG !
After that, it was smooth sailing until the following evening when Rick and I were fifty minutes late for dinner because I couldn't remember the meeting time and no one called me (as I had hoped they would) to confirm where we were meeting (we were at a different hotel, you see) AND then there was utter gridlock on the Interstate because of all the baseball fans flooding in to watch the evening game. We actually spent half an hour in the cab getting to the restaurant when it probably shouldn't have taken more than ten minutes to get there. Can you say stress?
After our return to Canada on Monday afternoon, we had to stop at Rick's parents' house before getting dropped at the GO Train station in Burlington. I had been napping in the car and was somewhat groggy when we got out. Who ever was in front of me, did not hold the door for me and it swung back and the enormous mailbox attached to it nailed me on the shoulder - HARD - tearing my beautiful lambskin jacket we'd gotten only a few weeks earlier. I was tired and cranky and couldn't take it anymore. All I wanted was to be home and with my mother and my cat, and now my jacket had been eaten by a killer mailbox and I still had a trainride and a Greyhound ride ahead of me to get me to Peterborough. And, then, naturally, because Murphy is a bastard, I arrived at the bus terminal in Toronto scant minutes after my bus departed, leaving me to wait for over two hours for the next one. Rick was a sweetheart and came up to join me (he'd gone home, of course) and brough spring rolls and took my jacket with him to have it fixed.
Let me tell you, I never wanted to be home with my mother so much as I did after that trip. For all the fantastic things that happened, the stress was really awful, and when I did finally get home, I had four and a half projects that needed completing by Friday. Ya. My week kind of passed in a blur of school insanity.
The End.
------------------------------
Sort of. Unfortunately, one event took place this past weekend that put all the stress of school and finances and nearly missed flights in perspective. This past Saturday, while I was at a friend's house, watching Revelations and other things, my best friend Tracy with me, Willi, my beloved little cat was hit and killed by a car.
I can't bring myself to write about it again, but you can read about it here in my other journal. Today, I took her body to the vet's in order to have her cremated. I asked for her collar back, and for the ashes to come in an unsealed container so that I can sprinkle her at the cottage when I go up there this summer. In an instant, my beloved Stinky Bee was struck down, her life taken, and I'm grateful that it was fast. There was no blood, no obvious trauma, just her lifeless little body set out on the grass in front of the house. I've wrapped her collar around the work socks she used to carry around the house, the ones that are fuzzy from all of the washing she gave them.
It hurts so much.
------------------------------
Baltimore - Part the Second
The party following the Premier was better than I'd thought it would be, which isn't saying a whole lot, since I didn't know what to expect at all. The locale, Club One, is a three-storey space with an industrial, techno feel to it, with lots of metal and glass and reflective materials, but tempered with asian-style lanterns hanging from the ceiling. The top floor was VIP space reserved for cast, crew, etc., and the particular people with whom they were attending. The event had some of the tastiest food I've ever eaten at anything comparable. Seafood dips, sushi, noodle dishes, and the best dessert nibblings, ever. Seriously, I could have crammed the little pastries all night. *laugh* What would that have done to my figure, hm? There was also dancing to well spun music, to which a guest accompanied on a congo drum (rather well, I might add), an auction of awesome goods that I could not hope to bid on in support of "Make a Wish", and other neat things. I didn't stay until it closed, I was knackered, but it was well past midnight when we left. In all, a very good evening.
On Sunday, it was check-out time, and then Rick and I headed back into Baltimore proper in order to attend the last in a three-game series of the Yankees at the Orioles. It promised to be a good one, as the O's had been creaming the Yankees. We bought our tickets, which were pretty good, even if they had a "limited view", and then wandered around in Camden Yard, looking for snacks and especially a bank machine. I was delighted to find a kosher snack stand where Rick got a sausage (25 cents less than a normal one) and I got a knish (yes, a knish - in a ballpark !) and large salted pretzel. The pretzel was nothing to write home about, but the knish, which is basically a chubby potato dumpling, was delish ! We had both Orioles and Yankees fans sitting around us, so there was some good cheering. Of course, anything compared to the Toronto stands is rowdy. Also, it was really nice to see a full ballpark, too, with 47,000+ fans in attendance.
After that, we drove back to our friend's house near Washington and decompressed a bit before heading to a Tapas restaurant. Our friend's daughters are a lot of fun, even for adolescent proto-people, and we had a pretty good time at dinner. My plan had been to pay for the meal, since N~ was kind enough to treat us to Indonesean on Thursday night, and because of her hospitality, but upon receiving the bill, I was mortified to discover that I'd left my wallet... In The Car. The car being parked in front of their house, quite some distance away. I was incredibly embarrassed. This has only ever happened once before, when I took a friend to dinner years ago and only had my debit card on me, and they didn't take debit, and there was enough ON the card to pay, but not enough to withdraw enough in the form of $20 bills. Anyway, our friend ended up paying and I promised to send her a cheque upon my return to Canada.
On our return, we put Revelations in the DVD player for some fun. I think they were impressed - everyone is impressed by it ! It was fun to point out bits that I knew were my own, and offer little anecdotal tidbits. I am disgustingly proud of the whole thing. Part of me wishes that I hadn't given up the movie work to work for He Who Shall Not Be Named, considering how that ended up. Oh well. Next time, if there's a next time, I'll know where my priorities DO lie. I digress; then it was time for bed, as Rick and I had a plane to catch in the morning, and N~ had work and the girls had school.
Now, let me tell you about some of the (mis)adventures of the Baltimore trip. It began with a ride to the Buffalo aeroport by Rick's parents. Unfortunately, Rick is not quite the Mapquest maven I am and although he typed in the destination we wanted, what he ended up with was directions to the very centre of Buffalo. We lost about half-an-hour, or more, to driving around in the sad streets of a once-prosperous, now fallen, city until stopping in a mechanic shop to find out where the hell we were going. Rick and I arrived at the aeroport with twenty minutes to our flight. Of course, the days of easy security on internal flights are gone, at least in the USA, so we knew we were in trouble. First we had to find the check-in, which we did, and we were informed that my luggage was late (no shit) and might not make the flight. Okay, no problem, we could wait for it at the other end, it wouldn't take that long. Then, with tickets in hand, we ran to the security clearance only to discover that there were at least sixty people in line. Under fifteen minutes until our flight; we hear my name called over the PA system paging us for our flight. Ten minutes to go. I looked at Rick and said, "Put your sweet face on," took off my sunglasses and proceded to ask very politely if we could skip ahead because we had just been paged. Yes ! Okay, one more part of the queue to hop and we could be golden. I asked again, and YES !
At security, we dumped our stuff into the bins, removed our shoes, and hoped for the best. No problem ! Back into our shoes - nevermind doing them up - into our jackets and we were off and running for our flight. The thought occured to us that our luggage might make it, but we might not. Five minutes or less, now, and we're still running. Halfway up a ramp to the second half of the gates and I see our check-in counter. My lungs are burning, my legs are crying (my bike boots are bloody heavy), and I slow to a brisk walk. At that point, I knew we would be alright, for lo and behold, there was the captain waiting with the ground crew, and the plane isn't going anywhere without him. We made it ! But did our luggage?
At Baltimore-Washington International, after a non-eventful flight ("If you look on your left, you'll see where the West Susquehanna River meets the Susquehanna River...") we waited with anticipation to see if my luggage appeared. It did - the last one through the rubber curtain. Now it was time to pick up the car I had rented. The last time I had rented a car at BWI, things had not gone well. This time proved also to be a challenge. My credit card was declined. Gads ! There was enough money for the car on it, and then some, but the $200+ security deposit the company wanted was too much - remember, there's that tricky little exchange rate. We were informed that they could not run my card through again in the same 24hr period, not even if, as Rick suggested, with a manual authorisation. Bastards ! So, I called up Mastercard, managed to get them to raise my limit by just enough that it didn't require my mother's permission AND would allow me to rent a car from a different company. Now, there was no problem, except that the car was a good hundred bucks more expensive because we were a walk-up, not an advanced booking. ARRRRRG !
After that, it was smooth sailing until the following evening when Rick and I were fifty minutes late for dinner because I couldn't remember the meeting time and no one called me (as I had hoped they would) to confirm where we were meeting (we were at a different hotel, you see) AND then there was utter gridlock on the Interstate because of all the baseball fans flooding in to watch the evening game. We actually spent half an hour in the cab getting to the restaurant when it probably shouldn't have taken more than ten minutes to get there. Can you say stress?
After our return to Canada on Monday afternoon, we had to stop at Rick's parents' house before getting dropped at the GO Train station in Burlington. I had been napping in the car and was somewhat groggy when we got out. Who ever was in front of me, did not hold the door for me and it swung back and the enormous mailbox attached to it nailed me on the shoulder - HARD - tearing my beautiful lambskin jacket we'd gotten only a few weeks earlier. I was tired and cranky and couldn't take it anymore. All I wanted was to be home and with my mother and my cat, and now my jacket had been eaten by a killer mailbox and I still had a trainride and a Greyhound ride ahead of me to get me to Peterborough. And, then, naturally, because Murphy is a bastard, I arrived at the bus terminal in Toronto scant minutes after my bus departed, leaving me to wait for over two hours for the next one. Rick was a sweetheart and came up to join me (he'd gone home, of course) and brough spring rolls and took my jacket with him to have it fixed.
Let me tell you, I never wanted to be home with my mother so much as I did after that trip. For all the fantastic things that happened, the stress was really awful, and when I did finally get home, I had four and a half projects that needed completing by Friday. Ya. My week kind of passed in a blur of school insanity.
The End.
------------------------------
Sort of. Unfortunately, one event took place this past weekend that put all the stress of school and finances and nearly missed flights in perspective. This past Saturday, while I was at a friend's house, watching Revelations and other things, my best friend Tracy with me, Willi, my beloved little cat was hit and killed by a car.
I can't bring myself to write about it again, but you can read about it here in my other journal. Today, I took her body to the vet's in order to have her cremated. I asked for her collar back, and for the ashes to come in an unsealed container so that I can sprinkle her at the cottage when I go up there this summer. In an instant, my beloved Stinky Bee was struck down, her life taken, and I'm grateful that it was fast. There was no blood, no obvious trauma, just her lifeless little body set out on the grass in front of the house. I've wrapped her collar around the work socks she used to carry around the house, the ones that are fuzzy from all of the washing she gave them.
It hurts so much.
------------------------------
Thursday, April 21, 2005
Ahhh, Baltimore. Whatever I was expecting from Baltimore, this was not it. My experiences up until this past weekend had been from the bus terminal, en route to Philadelphia from Washington, DC, passing over it from an aeroplane, and listening to a friend who used to live there talk about how Bal'more was a fallen city. Granted, I did not visit a lot of the city, but I passed through several neighbourhoods heading to various events, and though it may be stretched thin through some areas, a bit careworn and rough around the edges, Baltimore was a whole lot more beautiful than I'd imagined.
The downtown is primarily geared to the tourist market with big attractions such as the Aquarium, historic ships, and sports stadia clustered around the inner harbour (this would be the inner harbour of Chesepeake Bay, by the way). There are trendy, if somewhat silly (what with their ideas of what exactly "proper attire" might be), clubs and restaurants downtown, and expensive hotels. Moving uphill, pretty much straight from the harbour, you find the historical Mount Vernon district, which is full of colonial buildings, antiques and art stores, interesting boutiques, and finer dining establishments. You'll find some bed and breakies in this area, too, which were too expensive for Rick and I to stay in, though we did consider it. In this area, you'll also find the very attractive Walters Art Museum, which though an unassuming contemporary building from the outside, is an airy, esthetically pleasing building on the inside, full of helpful, friendly staff, a lovely gift shop, and extensive collections of fine and cultural arts from around the world. It was also surprisingly large on the inside; in two hours, Rick and I had not seen more than 1/4th of the collection. While we were there, a very good exhibition of George Stubbs' equestrian works was on display.
The Senator Theatre, where Star Wars Revelations had its premier on Saturday night, is in an older neighbourhood that, for those of you familiar with Toronto, is reminiscent of the Yonge and Eglinton area - but the way it was fifteen years ago, with the mom and pop stores and slightly worn, but handsome middle class houses - crossed with Leaside. The Senator Theatre itself is a stately, art deco movie palace, currently in the throes of refurbishment. It has a grand domed loby, a large, semi-circular marquee outside, marble and plaster mouldings, and there's a huge lounging area/powder room attached to the women's washroom. Again, like the Eglinton Theatre or Royal Cinema in Toronto. It boasts a stage as well as a screen, beautiful vintage lighting and decor, and the seats recline, even with a capacity of 900 people. What an incredible venue for a once-in-a-lifetime event.
Rick and I spent our first half-day and full night staying with a friend of ours in Silver Spring, MD, which is actually much closer to Washington than Baltimore. In order to kill time and enjoy the heavenly weather (and to decompress after a stressful, though damned lucky, trip from his parents' to Buffalo to Baltimore, which I will write about later). We drove around the area near by and found a zany antique market-commune-thing in a series of historic homes. We wandered through the maze of shops, each one basically taking up a room in the house, and enjoyed looking at the many weird and wonderful things. Then we went and walked around in a modern inter-faith cemetary/memorial garden where we read markers and enjoyed the cherry trees, which were in full bloom. We also took a drive down a little rural lane that led through horse paddocks, a golf course, beautiful new homes for the wealthy, abandoned fields and out-buildings, and past little eccentric homes in the woods. Dinner, that night, was had at a more-than-adequate Indonesian restaurant where I had Bami Goering, chicken satay, and fried bananas (with powedered sugar on top !!) and Rick shared ristafle with our hostess.
The following day took us to our hotel, which was a bit harder to locate than necessary, as it had just changed from a Holiday Inn Express (what I had booked at) to a Quality Inn (which I did not know about). After some confusion, we figured it out and got our room. To save unnecessary credit card stress, of which I'd already had plenty the day before at the rental car agency (I'm cursed, by the way, for renting cars in Baltimore - never again !), we paid in cash. The hotel was not quite as expected, and frankly, we weren't expecting a whole lot, but the beds were clean, the appliances worked, there was fresh soap and towels, though no face cloths, and a constant supply of fairly tasty apples in the lobby. Unfortunately, it also came with a nearly inexhaustable supply of heavy-drinking Yankees fans in town for the three game series against the Orioles.
We spent Friday afternoon at the aquarium, which was really nice. I could have spent all day watching the rays flap leisurely through the water, and we both enjoyed the dolphins just swimming naturally in their pool, not doing tricks. One of them is extremely pregnant and swam quite stiffly because of her belly getting in the way. Unfortunately, I mixed up our time for dinner, the Revelations art/CG/sound team dinner and we really had to hustle to get there. We ended up stranded in pre-game gridlock for half an hour and had one heck of an expensive cab-ride. Thus, we missed the salad course of the meal, but that's okay. The director, Shane, said many nice things about everyone, though he almost forgot me, but made up for it with sweet words and I forgave him. I met the majority of the CG team, whom I had only known from their websites, their work, and constant emails. Following the meal, we rode around town in a limo watching the Behind the Scenes stuff for our film, stopping to do some bar-hopping, which ultimately was disappointing (jeans, tennis shoes, and cargo pants are not allowed, but it seems ugly Hawai'ian shirts and hideous club wear is considered "proper attire"), and ended up heading up to the Senator to check it out the night before the big event. That last bit was really neat and I think we all enjoyed it the most.
The Saturday took Rick and I to the Walters Art Museum before the premier. I spent an hour applying false nails and painting them before we left, and when we got home, I was already so sick of them, I cut them down to a manageable length before getting dressed. I wore the corset, which apparently most everyone missed, because they were hiding in the VIP room. Their loss. Anyway, it was a red-carpet event and there was a stormtrooper honour guard flanking the carpet and an R2 unit was tootling up and down, beaping merrily. There was press in attendence and the theatre was utterly jammed. Speaches were made, which didn't suck, and Darth Vadar made the announcement about cell phones and whatnot, which was a really nice touch, and then, FINALLY, it was time for the movie.
I won't review it. There are plenty of them already floating around on the Internet and you can download it yourself at the Panic Struck Productions website. It has its flaws, but in the end, it's pretty amazing, considering not a penny was earned in the making of it, nor was a single person paid for their work. I was in divine company, considering the talents of the CG artists, and was amazed by how things ended up. Nothing, however, holds a candle to how I felt when I saw my storyboards come to life on screen. There is one full scene that I saw as my work, and several sequences of shots I recognised right away. And, I must admit, that some of those shots were really good. It was pretty frickin' amazing to see my name scroll up twice in the credits, too, once as costume artist, shared with another, but all alone as the storyboard artist, and THAT was incredible. Sure, no one ooohed and ahhhed at my work like they did the effects, but I knew where my work was and how it was used, and that is what mattered.
I'll stop here, now, and finish my recount of my adventures in Baltimore in my next entry. I still have another project to start (and finish) tonight for tomorrow - the last day of class. So, next time I'll write about the after party, the antics of the CG guys, the Orioles game, our last night staying, once again, with our friend in Silver Spring, the trip home, and the attack of the killer mailbox.
The downtown is primarily geared to the tourist market with big attractions such as the Aquarium, historic ships, and sports stadia clustered around the inner harbour (this would be the inner harbour of Chesepeake Bay, by the way). There are trendy, if somewhat silly (what with their ideas of what exactly "proper attire" might be), clubs and restaurants downtown, and expensive hotels. Moving uphill, pretty much straight from the harbour, you find the historical Mount Vernon district, which is full of colonial buildings, antiques and art stores, interesting boutiques, and finer dining establishments. You'll find some bed and breakies in this area, too, which were too expensive for Rick and I to stay in, though we did consider it. In this area, you'll also find the very attractive Walters Art Museum, which though an unassuming contemporary building from the outside, is an airy, esthetically pleasing building on the inside, full of helpful, friendly staff, a lovely gift shop, and extensive collections of fine and cultural arts from around the world. It was also surprisingly large on the inside; in two hours, Rick and I had not seen more than 1/4th of the collection. While we were there, a very good exhibition of George Stubbs' equestrian works was on display.
The Senator Theatre, where Star Wars Revelations had its premier on Saturday night, is in an older neighbourhood that, for those of you familiar with Toronto, is reminiscent of the Yonge and Eglinton area - but the way it was fifteen years ago, with the mom and pop stores and slightly worn, but handsome middle class houses - crossed with Leaside. The Senator Theatre itself is a stately, art deco movie palace, currently in the throes of refurbishment. It has a grand domed loby, a large, semi-circular marquee outside, marble and plaster mouldings, and there's a huge lounging area/powder room attached to the women's washroom. Again, like the Eglinton Theatre or Royal Cinema in Toronto. It boasts a stage as well as a screen, beautiful vintage lighting and decor, and the seats recline, even with a capacity of 900 people. What an incredible venue for a once-in-a-lifetime event.
Rick and I spent our first half-day and full night staying with a friend of ours in Silver Spring, MD, which is actually much closer to Washington than Baltimore. In order to kill time and enjoy the heavenly weather (and to decompress after a stressful, though damned lucky, trip from his parents' to Buffalo to Baltimore, which I will write about later). We drove around the area near by and found a zany antique market-commune-thing in a series of historic homes. We wandered through the maze of shops, each one basically taking up a room in the house, and enjoyed looking at the many weird and wonderful things. Then we went and walked around in a modern inter-faith cemetary/memorial garden where we read markers and enjoyed the cherry trees, which were in full bloom. We also took a drive down a little rural lane that led through horse paddocks, a golf course, beautiful new homes for the wealthy, abandoned fields and out-buildings, and past little eccentric homes in the woods. Dinner, that night, was had at a more-than-adequate Indonesian restaurant where I had Bami Goering, chicken satay, and fried bananas (with powedered sugar on top !!) and Rick shared ristafle with our hostess.
The following day took us to our hotel, which was a bit harder to locate than necessary, as it had just changed from a Holiday Inn Express (what I had booked at) to a Quality Inn (which I did not know about). After some confusion, we figured it out and got our room. To save unnecessary credit card stress, of which I'd already had plenty the day before at the rental car agency (I'm cursed, by the way, for renting cars in Baltimore - never again !), we paid in cash. The hotel was not quite as expected, and frankly, we weren't expecting a whole lot, but the beds were clean, the appliances worked, there was fresh soap and towels, though no face cloths, and a constant supply of fairly tasty apples in the lobby. Unfortunately, it also came with a nearly inexhaustable supply of heavy-drinking Yankees fans in town for the three game series against the Orioles.
We spent Friday afternoon at the aquarium, which was really nice. I could have spent all day watching the rays flap leisurely through the water, and we both enjoyed the dolphins just swimming naturally in their pool, not doing tricks. One of them is extremely pregnant and swam quite stiffly because of her belly getting in the way. Unfortunately, I mixed up our time for dinner, the Revelations art/CG/sound team dinner and we really had to hustle to get there. We ended up stranded in pre-game gridlock for half an hour and had one heck of an expensive cab-ride. Thus, we missed the salad course of the meal, but that's okay. The director, Shane, said many nice things about everyone, though he almost forgot me, but made up for it with sweet words and I forgave him. I met the majority of the CG team, whom I had only known from their websites, their work, and constant emails. Following the meal, we rode around town in a limo watching the Behind the Scenes stuff for our film, stopping to do some bar-hopping, which ultimately was disappointing (jeans, tennis shoes, and cargo pants are not allowed, but it seems ugly Hawai'ian shirts and hideous club wear is considered "proper attire"), and ended up heading up to the Senator to check it out the night before the big event. That last bit was really neat and I think we all enjoyed it the most.
The Saturday took Rick and I to the Walters Art Museum before the premier. I spent an hour applying false nails and painting them before we left, and when we got home, I was already so sick of them, I cut them down to a manageable length before getting dressed. I wore the corset, which apparently most everyone missed, because they were hiding in the VIP room. Their loss. Anyway, it was a red-carpet event and there was a stormtrooper honour guard flanking the carpet and an R2 unit was tootling up and down, beaping merrily. There was press in attendence and the theatre was utterly jammed. Speaches were made, which didn't suck, and Darth Vadar made the announcement about cell phones and whatnot, which was a really nice touch, and then, FINALLY, it was time for the movie.
I won't review it. There are plenty of them already floating around on the Internet and you can download it yourself at the Panic Struck Productions website. It has its flaws, but in the end, it's pretty amazing, considering not a penny was earned in the making of it, nor was a single person paid for their work. I was in divine company, considering the talents of the CG artists, and was amazed by how things ended up. Nothing, however, holds a candle to how I felt when I saw my storyboards come to life on screen. There is one full scene that I saw as my work, and several sequences of shots I recognised right away. And, I must admit, that some of those shots were really good. It was pretty frickin' amazing to see my name scroll up twice in the credits, too, once as costume artist, shared with another, but all alone as the storyboard artist, and THAT was incredible. Sure, no one ooohed and ahhhed at my work like they did the effects, but I knew where my work was and how it was used, and that is what mattered.
I'll stop here, now, and finish my recount of my adventures in Baltimore in my next entry. I still have another project to start (and finish) tonight for tomorrow - the last day of class. So, next time I'll write about the after party, the antics of the CG guys, the Orioles game, our last night staying, once again, with our friend in Silver Spring, the trip home, and the attack of the killer mailbox.
Tuesday, April 12, 2005
In half an hour, the new Dr. Who comes on television. I watched it last week - the first episode - and was far from disappointed. In fact, I enjoyed it about as much as humanly possible. It was thoroughly modern, updated, hip, and yet also hokey, goofy, and didn't take itself seriously. The new Dr. is wonderful and I'll do my best to absorb as much of him as possible, since he quit the show after the first 13 episodes. Boo on him. At any rate, Tuesdays will have meaning to me, now, in two different timeslots, not just when Special Victims Unit is on. While, I wait until it begins, I do have some time to catch everyone up on things going on this week.
First of all, tomorrow, after class, I will head to Toronto, and then to Hamilton to spend the night with Rick at his parents'. You see, on Thursday morning, we're getting a ride from them to Buffalo airport. This is terribly exciting ! Well, not the ride, but the trip we'll be taking. Also, this means we'll be crossing the border in a car, rather than on a bus ('cause the Greyhound's what them poor folk travel on and thems fun to detain at Customs...), and we'll have less chance of being hassled. Now, don't get up my nose for making that poor folk comment. It's true. The Customs officials seem to get a lot of pleasure out of hassling and harrassing the people who can't afford to travel any other way. Anyway, with his parents in the car and us in the back seat, we'll look less like Suitable Targets(tm).
EDIT: Continued at 9:50pm, same day
So, what, other than homework, am I doing now? Well, other than the handout for tomorrow's "Learning Cafe" (no, really) and work on the school groups programme, I'm trying to sort out my confirmations and make sure that I have a copy of each one with me for the trip. I also need to remember a whole list of things that I drew up today after class. I have a lot of stuff to take. More clothing than what I'd normally take for what is, essentially, a long weekend, but then again, I don't normally need so much dress clothing. It's not like I usually attend film premieres. There's so much to do -- AHHH !
I aim to be at Rick's around 7pm or so in order to catch the GO service to Burlington where his mother can pick us up. This means I'll probably have to duck out of class early, in order to get the last few things done. I have to write some emails and tie up some loose ends, and then finish this damn homework. There's so much to do and so little time.
In other news, for those of you who miss my write-ups about the cats, let me offer one now. Spring is here and the cats are out. It started with Willi, who is, by far, the most adventurous of the lot, though not prone to feral flashbacks like Chester is. She was going out, rain or shine, most of a month ago. She happily spends the entire day frolicking outside and tormenting the birds (of which there are many), forgoing meals and quality time in front of the television. When she does come in, it's usually for brief spurts just to make sure everyone and everything is where they're supposed to be. Then she's off again. After supper, she comes back and pretty much crashes. Right now, she's completely zonked behind me on my bed.
Chester, on the other hand, goes out for limited periods of time, long enough to eat something he shouldn't (today it was parsley), and vomit it up all over the house. Normally, because he hisses before puking, we can catch him and put a newspaper under his face. Today, however, he did his worst before I could catch him and effectively sprayed stomach fluids all over the stove and down its front. Tedious, creature. I had to break out the VIM to clean it up. And then there's Melody, who mostly goes outside in order to sit on us, or the windowsill (looking in, naturally), always in the sun. Hers is a very pleasant dotage, as my mother calls it. Indeed, it must be nice to be an 18 year old cat in our household. Lucky, deaf girl that she is.
First of all, tomorrow, after class, I will head to Toronto, and then to Hamilton to spend the night with Rick at his parents'. You see, on Thursday morning, we're getting a ride from them to Buffalo airport. This is terribly exciting ! Well, not the ride, but the trip we'll be taking. Also, this means we'll be crossing the border in a car, rather than on a bus ('cause the Greyhound's what them poor folk travel on and thems fun to detain at Customs...), and we'll have less chance of being hassled. Now, don't get up my nose for making that poor folk comment. It's true. The Customs officials seem to get a lot of pleasure out of hassling and harrassing the people who can't afford to travel any other way. Anyway, with his parents in the car and us in the back seat, we'll look less like Suitable Targets(tm).
EDIT: Continued at 9:50pm, same day
So, what, other than homework, am I doing now? Well, other than the handout for tomorrow's "Learning Cafe" (no, really) and work on the school groups programme, I'm trying to sort out my confirmations and make sure that I have a copy of each one with me for the trip. I also need to remember a whole list of things that I drew up today after class. I have a lot of stuff to take. More clothing than what I'd normally take for what is, essentially, a long weekend, but then again, I don't normally need so much dress clothing. It's not like I usually attend film premieres. There's so much to do -- AHHH !
I aim to be at Rick's around 7pm or so in order to catch the GO service to Burlington where his mother can pick us up. This means I'll probably have to duck out of class early, in order to get the last few things done. I have to write some emails and tie up some loose ends, and then finish this damn homework. There's so much to do and so little time.
In other news, for those of you who miss my write-ups about the cats, let me offer one now. Spring is here and the cats are out. It started with Willi, who is, by far, the most adventurous of the lot, though not prone to feral flashbacks like Chester is. She was going out, rain or shine, most of a month ago. She happily spends the entire day frolicking outside and tormenting the birds (of which there are many), forgoing meals and quality time in front of the television. When she does come in, it's usually for brief spurts just to make sure everyone and everything is where they're supposed to be. Then she's off again. After supper, she comes back and pretty much crashes. Right now, she's completely zonked behind me on my bed.
Chester, on the other hand, goes out for limited periods of time, long enough to eat something he shouldn't (today it was parsley), and vomit it up all over the house. Normally, because he hisses before puking, we can catch him and put a newspaper under his face. Today, however, he did his worst before I could catch him and effectively sprayed stomach fluids all over the stove and down its front. Tedious, creature. I had to break out the VIM to clean it up. And then there's Melody, who mostly goes outside in order to sit on us, or the windowsill (looking in, naturally), always in the sun. Hers is a very pleasant dotage, as my mother calls it. Indeed, it must be nice to be an 18 year old cat in our household. Lucky, deaf girl that she is.
Monday, April 11, 2005
Are you in my class and reading this? Are you irritated by what I've written? Well, let me take a moment to remind you that a) no one is twisting your arm (or forcing your eyelids open) to read this, b) this journal is mine and reflects my own honest opinions, perceptions, and thoughts and, c) it's not like I'm slandering anyone, my days of naming names are over. So, I understand you've been grumbling (yes, the grapevine reaches me, too), and that you've taken my entries too personally. Then, I guess you're feeling about my entries the way I'm feeling about the things I perceive to have happened to me over the last few weeks.
Maybe all of this is just another lesson in Exhibit Design. Maybe we're all feeling the impact we have on each other, be they positive or negative, and we're all walking away from this with an emotional response or opinion. If this were an exhibit, then I guess we would have succeeded somewhat in our aims. Heh. Fun way to look at it, right? I suppose I'm wrong about that, too.
I am tired of this class now. We all are. We're tired of each other, of our opinions, our voices, our manerisms; it's almost done. Just a week left, really, and most of us are more than ready to get out of here. Not everyone handles stress in the same way, and if we've had anything over the last two months, it's been stress. LOTS of stress. Some people get paranoid, others get angry. Some have panic and anxiety attacks, while others try to avoid each other. I've tried to be a good peer, not just a good student, and if I've failed lately, think about how I've succeeded in the past. Think of all the work I've put in, often extra work that I've simply picked up because someone needed to do it. We have all stepped up somewhere to do what needed to be done, and most of us have also fallen short of a few goals.
This is somewhat rambly, I know. It's just a stream of consciousness, the garbage in my head. I'm past caring about how people perceive me, or my opinions, I'm just interested in getting everything done as best as I can. That's what we should all be doing. If I could do it all again, I would do only one thing differently: I would provide everyone with a schedule of my time here in the Petes and in Toronto, the commuting time, the lack of access time to my files, my programmes, and whatnot when I'm in Toronto, how many hours I work each week, and the time I spend doing work that relates to school activities without actually being the minimum manditory responsibilities. Or, maybe I'd just not bother with extra school-related stuff at all. But probably not.
Is there a moral to this rambling, meandering post? Sure. But I'm done with extra work, so figure it out for yourselves. And, to those of you reading this with whom I still have a decent working relationship, thank you, I appreciate your faith in me, and your friendship.
Maybe all of this is just another lesson in Exhibit Design. Maybe we're all feeling the impact we have on each other, be they positive or negative, and we're all walking away from this with an emotional response or opinion. If this were an exhibit, then I guess we would have succeeded somewhat in our aims. Heh. Fun way to look at it, right? I suppose I'm wrong about that, too.
I am tired of this class now. We all are. We're tired of each other, of our opinions, our voices, our manerisms; it's almost done. Just a week left, really, and most of us are more than ready to get out of here. Not everyone handles stress in the same way, and if we've had anything over the last two months, it's been stress. LOTS of stress. Some people get paranoid, others get angry. Some have panic and anxiety attacks, while others try to avoid each other. I've tried to be a good peer, not just a good student, and if I've failed lately, think about how I've succeeded in the past. Think of all the work I've put in, often extra work that I've simply picked up because someone needed to do it. We have all stepped up somewhere to do what needed to be done, and most of us have also fallen short of a few goals.
This is somewhat rambly, I know. It's just a stream of consciousness, the garbage in my head. I'm past caring about how people perceive me, or my opinions, I'm just interested in getting everything done as best as I can. That's what we should all be doing. If I could do it all again, I would do only one thing differently: I would provide everyone with a schedule of my time here in the Petes and in Toronto, the commuting time, the lack of access time to my files, my programmes, and whatnot when I'm in Toronto, how many hours I work each week, and the time I spend doing work that relates to school activities without actually being the minimum manditory responsibilities. Or, maybe I'd just not bother with extra school-related stuff at all. But probably not.
Is there a moral to this rambling, meandering post? Sure. But I'm done with extra work, so figure it out for yourselves. And, to those of you reading this with whom I still have a decent working relationship, thank you, I appreciate your faith in me, and your friendship.
Saturday, April 09, 2005
It has been a long, fairly unhappy week for me. There have been a few tiny frustrations, too, that have added to my feelings of dread. For instance, Elfwood has been down all week and because of massive data loss, everything is gone from after early February. As a moderator, I'll have to pick up my socks and get some extra moderating done in order to pick up some of the mess. Also, I keep not getting ahold of the people I need to speak to. This has meant phone tag and email tag. I hate those games. But, far and away, the worst thing has been my social interaction with my classmates.
Last Saturday, I received an email from the management group (part of the subsections in our exhibit development team) that wanted to be polite and professional but actually came across cold, vague, and shockingly impersonal. It stated that my performance as part of the team was poor and needed to be improved. Okay, I can deal with criticism; I'm not 15 anymore. Unfortunately, the email did not explain how I failed in my responsibilities and moreover, hit me in the the head out of nowhere. Yikes. I was furious, especially since the email originated from my friend's email account. She and I have talked very candidly together for a long time now, and getting this letter from her was really awful.
I responded to their email, which, by the way, was copied to the class instructor, Deb, with whom I had some baggage, thanks to an earlier attempt to deal with stuff. My email managed to be mostly polite, but at one point, I did get a bit snarky. Ah well, considering how angry I was, I guess one little snark-out isn't that bad. Anyway, my answer also copied the instructor and demanded a meeting to discuss the matters in person when I returned to Peterborough from Toronto, the following day. Well now, their answer came pretty quickly, and they answered my demand with a time and place to meet (the following day at the Tim Horton's near the museum). I accepted and then had only to wait, getting progressively more nervous.
So, talking about it was very good, and we came out of it pretty unscathed, with the understanding that they would send an email detailing the outcome of the meeting to me, copying, again, the instructor. They did this, which was nice, and it was a much nicer, gentler, more personal message than the first one had been. The problem is; however, my classmates, presumably the ones who raised the complaint in the first place, do not know about how we sorted things out and as a result, a while bunch of people now think of me only in a negative light. Again, I can handle it - rejection is something I've gotten quite used to, and my friends seem genuinely bothered by what's happened.
What is even worse, and extremely childlish, is that not only am I viewed as a slacker, but I'm getting the "silent treatment" from a few classmates (fewer at this point than on Monday), and am being treated as a pariah for group work. My teammates even went so far as to strip me of my responsibility as a speaker at the opening event (detailed somewhat, below). So. Needless to say, I've felt really uncharming this past week, and even did some good, old fashioned crying. With two weeks of the programme left to go (that's six assignments, yet), this was really not the way I'd hoped to end it.
In other, but related, news, yesterday was the official opening of our exhibit, "A Century of Celebrations in Peterborough: 1905-2005". I was there ahead of time to help with the set-up of the food/drink tables and do some cleaning and moving around of furniture. Rather than giving the speach, I spent most of the time in the exhibit answering people's questions and doing stuff not to get bored. Speaking of boring, the speaches did go on a little bit long, but considering the number of speaches given, I guess it didn't take that long. At any rate, it went off basically without a hitch and everything looked great, even the ga-ga podium from which people spoke.
Now, I'm literally sitting here in the phone dungeon (as I have been since 9am) waiting for my break person t come and relieve me so I can hop over to The Second Cup for a decent cup of coffee. A decent, LARGE cup of coffee. I normally don't doze off while working, but just a moment ago, I -thought- I was deep in thought, but actually discovered that my eyes were closed, I'd typed a nonsensical sentence, followed by four lines of lowercase "i". I'm certainly glad that no one was here to witness that little whoopsie. Come on break !
Last Saturday, I received an email from the management group (part of the subsections in our exhibit development team) that wanted to be polite and professional but actually came across cold, vague, and shockingly impersonal. It stated that my performance as part of the team was poor and needed to be improved. Okay, I can deal with criticism; I'm not 15 anymore. Unfortunately, the email did not explain how I failed in my responsibilities and moreover, hit me in the the head out of nowhere. Yikes. I was furious, especially since the email originated from my friend's email account. She and I have talked very candidly together for a long time now, and getting this letter from her was really awful.
I responded to their email, which, by the way, was copied to the class instructor, Deb, with whom I had some baggage, thanks to an earlier attempt to deal with stuff. My email managed to be mostly polite, but at one point, I did get a bit snarky. Ah well, considering how angry I was, I guess one little snark-out isn't that bad. Anyway, my answer also copied the instructor and demanded a meeting to discuss the matters in person when I returned to Peterborough from Toronto, the following day. Well now, their answer came pretty quickly, and they answered my demand with a time and place to meet (the following day at the Tim Horton's near the museum). I accepted and then had only to wait, getting progressively more nervous.
So, talking about it was very good, and we came out of it pretty unscathed, with the understanding that they would send an email detailing the outcome of the meeting to me, copying, again, the instructor. They did this, which was nice, and it was a much nicer, gentler, more personal message than the first one had been. The problem is; however, my classmates, presumably the ones who raised the complaint in the first place, do not know about how we sorted things out and as a result, a while bunch of people now think of me only in a negative light. Again, I can handle it - rejection is something I've gotten quite used to, and my friends seem genuinely bothered by what's happened.
What is even worse, and extremely childlish, is that not only am I viewed as a slacker, but I'm getting the "silent treatment" from a few classmates (fewer at this point than on Monday), and am being treated as a pariah for group work. My teammates even went so far as to strip me of my responsibility as a speaker at the opening event (detailed somewhat, below). So. Needless to say, I've felt really uncharming this past week, and even did some good, old fashioned crying. With two weeks of the programme left to go (that's six assignments, yet), this was really not the way I'd hoped to end it.
In other, but related, news, yesterday was the official opening of our exhibit, "A Century of Celebrations in Peterborough: 1905-2005". I was there ahead of time to help with the set-up of the food/drink tables and do some cleaning and moving around of furniture. Rather than giving the speach, I spent most of the time in the exhibit answering people's questions and doing stuff not to get bored. Speaking of boring, the speaches did go on a little bit long, but considering the number of speaches given, I guess it didn't take that long. At any rate, it went off basically without a hitch and everything looked great, even the ga-ga podium from which people spoke.
Now, I'm literally sitting here in the phone dungeon (as I have been since 9am) waiting for my break person t come and relieve me so I can hop over to The Second Cup for a decent cup of coffee. A decent, LARGE cup of coffee. I normally don't doze off while working, but just a moment ago, I -thought- I was deep in thought, but actually discovered that my eyes were closed, I'd typed a nonsensical sentence, followed by four lines of lowercase "i". I'm certainly glad that no one was here to witness that little whoopsie. Come on break !
Friday, April 01, 2005
I've had the luxery of a relaxing (mostly) week. The exhibit is installed and it looks better than I had thought it would, which is good. Not that I believed it would look bad, mind you, just not as professional as it does. Despite the insecurities, arguments, and clashes of ego, the group pulled together and really made it happen. I took many photographs of the installation process and sometime this week I will begin downloading them onto Natasha and compiling them for the exhibit group - for our portfolios. I got some really excellent pictures, candid shots of people doing construction and whatnot. As Amber would say, "Good times, good times."
Unfortunately for me, this past weekend, I had a maple latte (this is so dumb, I tell ya) that literally made my stomach turn. I spent one and a half days pretty much incapacitated due to food poisoning. This was, without a doubt, The Suck. The BIG Suck. I missed work on Sunday because of it and even when I was uptown at Julie and Jerzy's, I didn't eat anything more than three dried apricots and two small biscuits washed down with some tea. My guts were in agony. Anyway, I went back to the coffee place on Monday and told them it made me sick, and maybe tomorrow they'll compensate me. I dunno, free coffee in the amount of money I lost from not being able to work, would be nice. Anyway, I could get 41 servings of my "usual" for what I didn't make at work. I'd be good with that, or even half of that, frankly.
I have hardly had a chance to talk to my mother since her return from New York. We've been a house on wheels. First I was gone the whole Easter weekend, then she was hosting a retirement party for some PSO musicians, now I'm back in the big city... and so it goes. At this rate, we'll be able to have a good talk when I'm done class (which is in three - THREE !). I can't believe how quickly the time has flown. When I'm done school, I will continue doing the Peterborough/Toronto split, working in the city and resting chez maman. And then the wedding bonanza begins.
In June, I will be attending a betrothal ceremony. July is Tanya's wedding month, and my dress should be in soon for trying on. Oh man. August is Juliane and I'm going to make another attempt to try on HER bridesmaid gown tomorrow after work (it was foiled by food poisoning). Then in September, I will be starting my internship, where ever that ends up happening, and finally, I'll have Tracy's wedding in October. Holy crap, that is a lot of matrimony. Rick's mother has started asking me when he and I are planning to get married and I really wish she'd stop. I gave her a good jolt last weekend when I told her we'd just elope instead of doing anything fancy. Boy, did that quiet her down. Don't want that kind of answer? Don't ask the question ! Yeesh. I haven't even lived with the guy yet, weekends don't count.
Anyway, it's time to cash out at the ROM, so I'll sign off here.
Unfortunately for me, this past weekend, I had a maple latte (this is so dumb, I tell ya) that literally made my stomach turn. I spent one and a half days pretty much incapacitated due to food poisoning. This was, without a doubt, The Suck. The BIG Suck. I missed work on Sunday because of it and even when I was uptown at Julie and Jerzy's, I didn't eat anything more than three dried apricots and two small biscuits washed down with some tea. My guts were in agony. Anyway, I went back to the coffee place on Monday and told them it made me sick, and maybe tomorrow they'll compensate me. I dunno, free coffee in the amount of money I lost from not being able to work, would be nice. Anyway, I could get 41 servings of my "usual" for what I didn't make at work. I'd be good with that, or even half of that, frankly.
I have hardly had a chance to talk to my mother since her return from New York. We've been a house on wheels. First I was gone the whole Easter weekend, then she was hosting a retirement party for some PSO musicians, now I'm back in the big city... and so it goes. At this rate, we'll be able to have a good talk when I'm done class (which is in three - THREE !). I can't believe how quickly the time has flown. When I'm done school, I will continue doing the Peterborough/Toronto split, working in the city and resting chez maman. And then the wedding bonanza begins.
In June, I will be attending a betrothal ceremony. July is Tanya's wedding month, and my dress should be in soon for trying on. Oh man. August is Juliane and I'm going to make another attempt to try on HER bridesmaid gown tomorrow after work (it was foiled by food poisoning). Then in September, I will be starting my internship, where ever that ends up happening, and finally, I'll have Tracy's wedding in October. Holy crap, that is a lot of matrimony. Rick's mother has started asking me when he and I are planning to get married and I really wish she'd stop. I gave her a good jolt last weekend when I told her we'd just elope instead of doing anything fancy. Boy, did that quiet her down. Don't want that kind of answer? Don't ask the question ! Yeesh. I haven't even lived with the guy yet, weekends don't count.
Anyway, it's time to cash out at the ROM, so I'll sign off here.
Wednesday, March 23, 2005
My mother is coming home today. As I write this, she is en route to LaGuardia with an extra suitcase packed with the stuff she's bought (books, mainly). She's been to museums and last night to Lincoln Centre, she's eaten many tasty things, and walked and walked and walked. She'll be home tonight around 5:30pm, no doubt exhausted from the trip, and I'm looking forward to it. I've missed her. I did get over the initial loneliness and have filled my time quite fruitfully, what with school, Rick, and more school stuff. Even Chester, who pined for my mother after she left, got over it. In fact, last night, he even slept with me. Of his own volition ! Needless to say, I was bloody hot. My bed is for one person, so being filled with that plus three cats all tightly pressed against me... You can imagine how uncomfortable I was, although certainly not lonely.
Installation week is going far better than we thought it would, although there have been some really extraordinary fuck-ups with the dry-mount press. Somehow the temperature knob got knocked out of whack and everything has been cooking/melting/bubbling. The temperature was reset accordingly, but still, one expensive professionally printed photograph continues to give trouble. It's very frustrating. Sabina Bartlebee (my sexy new printer) has already paid for herself with the number of prints she's done for the exhibit, and thanks to the latest problem, I'll have to call her into action again, later. I was supposed to be doing it now, but I left the disc with the images on it back at school. Yes, I'm a forgetful dork.
Yesterday, I was challenged to creating a stuffed mount for a Native ribbon shirt. We have these silhouette manequins onto which we can place clothing, but because they're essentially flat, they have to be padded. So, I turned my very unattractive Coca Cola shirt (that had been accidentally dyed pink by some red underwear - it's always the red underwear) into a body for "Sven". I had to build in shoulders, chest and a back in order to support the shirt. Some of you know that I am a poor excuse for a seamstress, but I took to the task with alacrity, tested my skills, and rose to the challenge. Pretty, it isn't, but when the ribbon shirt is mounted, it actually looks like there are shoulder muscles and pectoral muscles, which is what I was hoping for. Now, if only Sven could have some pants, it would be perfect.
I've been taking photos through out the installation process and I've become something of an irritant. Today, Sally said, "You're like one of those nosey gossip column reporters from the 40s." It's true, only, I wouldn't have been a gossip columnist, I'd have been one of the real press corps, in a fedora, with a "press" tag in its ribbon. So there.
Anyway, I must go back to school with my red selaphane and black electrical tape. Also, I must remember to get Mom's pliers back from Meghan.
Installation week is going far better than we thought it would, although there have been some really extraordinary fuck-ups with the dry-mount press. Somehow the temperature knob got knocked out of whack and everything has been cooking/melting/bubbling. The temperature was reset accordingly, but still, one expensive professionally printed photograph continues to give trouble. It's very frustrating. Sabina Bartlebee (my sexy new printer) has already paid for herself with the number of prints she's done for the exhibit, and thanks to the latest problem, I'll have to call her into action again, later. I was supposed to be doing it now, but I left the disc with the images on it back at school. Yes, I'm a forgetful dork.
Yesterday, I was challenged to creating a stuffed mount for a Native ribbon shirt. We have these silhouette manequins onto which we can place clothing, but because they're essentially flat, they have to be padded. So, I turned my very unattractive Coca Cola shirt (that had been accidentally dyed pink by some red underwear - it's always the red underwear) into a body for "Sven". I had to build in shoulders, chest and a back in order to support the shirt. Some of you know that I am a poor excuse for a seamstress, but I took to the task with alacrity, tested my skills, and rose to the challenge. Pretty, it isn't, but when the ribbon shirt is mounted, it actually looks like there are shoulder muscles and pectoral muscles, which is what I was hoping for. Now, if only Sven could have some pants, it would be perfect.
I've been taking photos through out the installation process and I've become something of an irritant. Today, Sally said, "You're like one of those nosey gossip column reporters from the 40s." It's true, only, I wouldn't have been a gossip columnist, I'd have been one of the real press corps, in a fedora, with a "press" tag in its ribbon. So there.
Anyway, I must go back to school with my red selaphane and black electrical tape. Also, I must remember to get Mom's pliers back from Meghan.
Friday, March 18, 2005
Today is my anniversary with Rick. Five years. FIVE YEARS. Holy crap. And to think, it was only supposed to be sex... Well, I guess at this point I'm supposed to muse on our longevity. I don't often talk about this, at least, not publicly, but after five years, I suppose I can share my wisdom. I've learned some things along the way.
Firstly, it is important to recognise that even when you don't feel you can give a person what they need, be it love, attention, food, sex, whatever, and the guilt eats at you, makes you want to give up and throw the whole thing away, have patience. Some of my friends, and I'm sure, Rick, too, know that for a long time, I felt that I couldn't give Rick what he deserved. He fell for me hard, and quickly, and I felt like I was always playing a game of catch-up and no matter what, I lagged behind. It was frustrating for me, and probably unfair to Rick, and I thought about ending things because of it. But, all the time, I kept reminding myself that there had been relationships in my past where I had been the giver and the other had used me up and then backed out when it looked like they were supposed to reciprocate. So, I hung on, not wanting to be like those people.
Secondly, and this is related to the first point, if they're good to you, respect you, and keep you warm and safe, that's already 70% of what you need to sustain the relationship. Sure, you have to do the same for them, and here, I think I failed quite regularly through our first couple of years, but... Rick had patience. Stubborness? That too. And, he was right. If they're all those good things, and you can't figure out what the problem is, barring sexual disappointment, maybe you owe it to yourself to take some time to figure things out. I put this into practice at a point when I honestly believed I would not survive Rick's constant adoration and my own incapacity to reciprocate. Some of this was chemical imbalance, some of this was situational, some of this was external distractions that sapped my ability to commit. It took four months to reflect on what I had and why that made me a really, really lucky woman.
Thirdly, allow room for growth. Over time, people change. Sometimes they change for the worse, but I believe most people change for the better. In the beginning, Rick was really hard to like. He was an asshole in restaurants and his impatience and intensity made me cringe. Smoking was also a major turn-off. He treated a few of my friends to his least likeable qualities and that made them question why a sensible girl like me would be with such a pig. I knew he wasn't always a pig, but he definitely rubbed people the wrong way. Abrasive, is the word. Something kept me holding on, though, and it wasn't just the sex. It was the realisation that Rick was mellowing, was moulding himself into something more palatable... someone... nicer. Those four months apart forced me to see just how much he had changed. And that I'd changed. Because growth happens to you, too, though often we can't see it, because we think we're the way we've always been. Also, don't believe that if there wasn't passion in the beginning there will never be passion later on. Passion can come later. It can grow just like any other facet of a relationship. It does not have to be there at the beginning. In fact, it might even be better to grow into it, because you can say to yourself, "Wow, things just keep getting better !" which is way cooler than saying, "Remember how it was?"
There are probably a hundred other things I could offer as advice, but I think these are the three most important for me and Rick. Five years ago, after spending the night together, I said to myself while we waited for the streetcar that would take me to work and away from him, "If he kisses me goodbye and thanks me, I'll invite him back." He waited until the last possible second, but he did, and I invited him back. I've been inviting him back for five years now.
And I love him. I LOVE RICK.
In other news, unrelated to our anniversary, I've got the house to myself this week. My mother is in New York City visiting friends. She flew down on Wednesday and will come back the same day next week. She was nervous, because she hadn't really travelled, especially not alone, like this since her stroke. But, now that she's there, I bet she's having a wonderful time. I sent her a tiny list of things I'd like her to bring back for me, including new bras from Victoria's Secret, and more Sesame Street panties. I love 'em ! So, anyway, she's supposed to be visiting old friends and stuff, but I don't know if she will - she may end up not giving herself enough time. I know how that can be.
Anyway, I'm alone here, with the cats, which really means I'm not alone at all because at any given time, one of them might be sitting on me/next to me, staring at me, yelling at me, or getting underfoot. Pilling Melody is going better than I thought it would, but I have to say, no wonder she doesn't like Mom as much as she used to - being pilled three times a day is brutal. It's also a bit of a trick to remember which ones she's had already, but I'm getting the system down. Chester is lonely. Last night, he sat up on Mom's bed waiting for her. It was sad. I'm just not 'the mama'. He has been outside a fair bit, though, as has Willi, because there is much cat activity and many bushes needing to be sprayed. It means there is less litterbox activity, which is nice for me.
Which, somewhat relatedly, reminds me that I have to feed the fish before I go back to school.
Firstly, it is important to recognise that even when you don't feel you can give a person what they need, be it love, attention, food, sex, whatever, and the guilt eats at you, makes you want to give up and throw the whole thing away, have patience. Some of my friends, and I'm sure, Rick, too, know that for a long time, I felt that I couldn't give Rick what he deserved. He fell for me hard, and quickly, and I felt like I was always playing a game of catch-up and no matter what, I lagged behind. It was frustrating for me, and probably unfair to Rick, and I thought about ending things because of it. But, all the time, I kept reminding myself that there had been relationships in my past where I had been the giver and the other had used me up and then backed out when it looked like they were supposed to reciprocate. So, I hung on, not wanting to be like those people.
Secondly, and this is related to the first point, if they're good to you, respect you, and keep you warm and safe, that's already 70% of what you need to sustain the relationship. Sure, you have to do the same for them, and here, I think I failed quite regularly through our first couple of years, but... Rick had patience. Stubborness? That too. And, he was right. If they're all those good things, and you can't figure out what the problem is, barring sexual disappointment, maybe you owe it to yourself to take some time to figure things out. I put this into practice at a point when I honestly believed I would not survive Rick's constant adoration and my own incapacity to reciprocate. Some of this was chemical imbalance, some of this was situational, some of this was external distractions that sapped my ability to commit. It took four months to reflect on what I had and why that made me a really, really lucky woman.
Thirdly, allow room for growth. Over time, people change. Sometimes they change for the worse, but I believe most people change for the better. In the beginning, Rick was really hard to like. He was an asshole in restaurants and his impatience and intensity made me cringe. Smoking was also a major turn-off. He treated a few of my friends to his least likeable qualities and that made them question why a sensible girl like me would be with such a pig. I knew he wasn't always a pig, but he definitely rubbed people the wrong way. Abrasive, is the word. Something kept me holding on, though, and it wasn't just the sex. It was the realisation that Rick was mellowing, was moulding himself into something more palatable... someone... nicer. Those four months apart forced me to see just how much he had changed. And that I'd changed. Because growth happens to you, too, though often we can't see it, because we think we're the way we've always been. Also, don't believe that if there wasn't passion in the beginning there will never be passion later on. Passion can come later. It can grow just like any other facet of a relationship. It does not have to be there at the beginning. In fact, it might even be better to grow into it, because you can say to yourself, "Wow, things just keep getting better !" which is way cooler than saying, "Remember how it was?"
There are probably a hundred other things I could offer as advice, but I think these are the three most important for me and Rick. Five years ago, after spending the night together, I said to myself while we waited for the streetcar that would take me to work and away from him, "If he kisses me goodbye and thanks me, I'll invite him back." He waited until the last possible second, but he did, and I invited him back. I've been inviting him back for five years now.
And I love him. I LOVE RICK.
In other news, unrelated to our anniversary, I've got the house to myself this week. My mother is in New York City visiting friends. She flew down on Wednesday and will come back the same day next week. She was nervous, because she hadn't really travelled, especially not alone, like this since her stroke. But, now that she's there, I bet she's having a wonderful time. I sent her a tiny list of things I'd like her to bring back for me, including new bras from Victoria's Secret, and more Sesame Street panties. I love 'em ! So, anyway, she's supposed to be visiting old friends and stuff, but I don't know if she will - she may end up not giving herself enough time. I know how that can be.
Anyway, I'm alone here, with the cats, which really means I'm not alone at all because at any given time, one of them might be sitting on me/next to me, staring at me, yelling at me, or getting underfoot. Pilling Melody is going better than I thought it would, but I have to say, no wonder she doesn't like Mom as much as she used to - being pilled three times a day is brutal. It's also a bit of a trick to remember which ones she's had already, but I'm getting the system down. Chester is lonely. Last night, he sat up on Mom's bed waiting for her. It was sad. I'm just not 'the mama'. He has been outside a fair bit, though, as has Willi, because there is much cat activity and many bushes needing to be sprayed. It means there is less litterbox activity, which is nice for me.
Which, somewhat relatedly, reminds me that I have to feed the fish before I go back to school.
Tuesday, March 15, 2005
Today is a happy day. Why? Well, not because of school, which was kind of dim, or because of being utterly exhausted after less than four hours of sleep. Not because of the nap I had in the late afternoon, nor because of my French class.
Today is happy because it is my MOTHER'S BIRTHDAY ! It is also my friend Megan's birthday ! And it is Al and Carrie's SECOND wedding anniversary !!
Hooray !
Tomorrow will be a strange day. Why? Because my mother will be flying to New York and won't be coming home until the following Wednesday. I'm not sure I can cope with being all by my lonesome for so long... I've become a child again, what with all this living with Mom, business. ;)
I'll be at home, looking after three cats, one of whom is quite elderly and requires medication thrice daily, so I won't be in Toronto this weekend (yay !). Also, it's coming up on five years with Rick. Oh my goodness ! So, he'll be coming out here on Friday night. Whee !
Today is happy because it is my MOTHER'S BIRTHDAY ! It is also my friend Megan's birthday ! And it is Al and Carrie's SECOND wedding anniversary !!
Hooray !
Tomorrow will be a strange day. Why? Because my mother will be flying to New York and won't be coming home until the following Wednesday. I'm not sure I can cope with being all by my lonesome for so long... I've become a child again, what with all this living with Mom, business. ;)
I'll be at home, looking after three cats, one of whom is quite elderly and requires medication thrice daily, so I won't be in Toronto this weekend (yay !). Also, it's coming up on five years with Rick. Oh my goodness ! So, he'll be coming out here on Friday night. Whee !
Sunday, March 13, 2005
Oh man. I didn't write about the gala? Yikes. It seems like forever ago, now, too. It was a far greater success than I imagined it would be, and I didn't think it would suck. In fact, it was a rollicking fun time and I enjoyed working the event. My programme and little wine glass tags looked really professional and I was quite proud when my mother thanked me from the podium. Once, I would have been horribly embarrassed to be acknowledged by my mother publicly, but I'm not twelve anymore, and it makes a big difference. I was very proud to be her daughter, too; she the president of a more than adequate community symphony. Not only that, but I was lucky enough to enjoy the event for what it was and posed for a pair of photographs at the photo booth, bid on a couple of items in the silent auction, and sat for my caricature. The caricaturist was really funny, and is the creator and force behind The Super Popular Show. Neat. I was given a standing invitation to visit the animation studios, so I think I might. Maybe this week, when the next assignment is in.
Speaking of assigments, this past week was GRUELLING. There were all the official assignments, and then there were a number of seemingly small, but surprisingly involved, extra projects I took up for the cause of my group's exhibition. I designed a logo that I am RIDICULOUSLY proud of. You can see it in my gallery at DeviantArt. Yes. I created it from scratch.
In other news... after a long day of work, Rick, who'd picked me up and the ROM, and I went to Sneaky Dee's for dinner. I was needing nachos and he needed some wings. We walked from the museum to the bar because I wanted the exercise and it wasn't too cold today. Our route took us through the UofT campus, which I've always enjoyed walking through (albeit, moreso since having graduation - I think it's the obligation, thing), and I saw three sure signs of spring. The fist was a robin hopping about the lawn of Trinity College. The second, and ultimately the MOST satisfying, sign was the appearance of a plethora of tiny crimson-tipped pale green/yellow shoots just errupting the soil's surface just a few buildings further along Harbord. The third was a guy in shorts. Seriously. I think he was a little over optimistic, but spring can't be far away now. Nevermind the five centimetres of snow that fell in less than an hour...
Also, we saw Phil the Alien tonight, which was possibly the silliest movie I've seen in a very, very long time, and certainly the silliest Canadian movie I've ever seen, and I enjoyed almost every second of it. I laughed my ass off, one might even say. Go, see it ! It's Canadian, so it won't last longer than two weeks.
Speaking of assigments, this past week was GRUELLING. There were all the official assignments, and then there were a number of seemingly small, but surprisingly involved, extra projects I took up for the cause of my group's exhibition. I designed a logo that I am RIDICULOUSLY proud of. You can see it in my gallery at DeviantArt. Yes. I created it from scratch.
In other news... after a long day of work, Rick, who'd picked me up and the ROM, and I went to Sneaky Dee's for dinner. I was needing nachos and he needed some wings. We walked from the museum to the bar because I wanted the exercise and it wasn't too cold today. Our route took us through the UofT campus, which I've always enjoyed walking through (albeit, moreso since having graduation - I think it's the obligation, thing), and I saw three sure signs of spring. The fist was a robin hopping about the lawn of Trinity College. The second, and ultimately the MOST satisfying, sign was the appearance of a plethora of tiny crimson-tipped pale green/yellow shoots just errupting the soil's surface just a few buildings further along Harbord. The third was a guy in shorts. Seriously. I think he was a little over optimistic, but spring can't be far away now. Nevermind the five centimetres of snow that fell in less than an hour...
Also, we saw Phil the Alien tonight, which was possibly the silliest movie I've seen in a very, very long time, and certainly the silliest Canadian movie I've ever seen, and I enjoyed almost every second of it. I laughed my ass off, one might even say. Go, see it ! It's Canadian, so it won't last longer than two weeks.
Friday, March 04, 2005
Tomorrow is the Peterborough Symphony Orchestra Gala and it cannot come soon enough. I really do get off on deadlines for graphic design work, as my mother has now observed, to the detriment of just about everything else. I had so many plans for this Reading Week. There was going to be stair painting here at home, and finishing the painting at Rick's. I was going to do a shit lode of school work... It seems that is not going to be quite the case. I'll do a minutia of school work and hope my classmates forgive me. I've just been so damn busy. And I've had three migraine headaches in it all.
Yes, it's true, the migraines are on the increase since going off the injection in September. This is a disappointment for me as I had really hoped they wouldn't return. I will have to make an appointment with some clinic doctor so I can get a fresh referral to see my specialist. It makes me crazy that I have to go through the whole referral business again because it's been over two years since I last saw him. God, that is so dumb. Anyway, as the Advil Migraine slowly loses its potency, I can't really see any other choice if I'm to get a prescription for Maxalt again.
Despite all the pain and deadlines, I managed to make time for me. Just a little bit of time, but enough to update the contents of my Cafepress store. I've introduced the ever popular Wumpus Bees into the line-up and there's a bunch of new stuff. Go check it out, now. Now ! And buy things !
That is all.
Yes, it's true, the migraines are on the increase since going off the injection in September. This is a disappointment for me as I had really hoped they wouldn't return. I will have to make an appointment with some clinic doctor so I can get a fresh referral to see my specialist. It makes me crazy that I have to go through the whole referral business again because it's been over two years since I last saw him. God, that is so dumb. Anyway, as the Advil Migraine slowly loses its potency, I can't really see any other choice if I'm to get a prescription for Maxalt again.
Despite all the pain and deadlines, I managed to make time for me. Just a little bit of time, but enough to update the contents of my Cafepress store. I've introduced the ever popular Wumpus Bees into the line-up and there's a bunch of new stuff. Go check it out, now. Now ! And buy things !
That is all.
Tuesday, March 01, 2005
March seems to have come in as a lion, roaring majestically, reminding us all that this is still winter, even if there have been a few robin sightings. It's really beautiful outside, I must say. Unfortunately, what with the up-and-down of the air pressure, I have developed a migraine. No surprise, there, but nonetheless, irritating. It's still snowing out, and I'm hoping that by tomorrow, I'll finally get out my skis and have a little jaunt. I'll do it in the evening, when no one is out, though, because, well, firstly, I love snowy nights, and secondly, there won't be anyone to see me as I embarrass myself. I haven't been cross-country skiing since highschool, I think.
Saturday is the Peterborough Symphony Orchestra's Swing into Spring gala, an event that has been plagued by unfortunate events. Hopefully, the gala itself will go very smoothly and raise the PSO some needed money and will be the first in a long future of gala evenings. It is a wine and food pairing event, with music by a pair of ensembles (out of the PSO) and the popular local band, Felix and the Swing Cats. Nicole of Nocturnalia and her beau, Dan, will be coming out for the event. She will be a featured guest offering palm readings. Rick will also be out for the event, but I'm going to be pretty busy being all mingly with the guests. I had hoped that Al and Carrie would come, but I guess they're not planning on it, since I haven't heard anything. I didn't bother to invite Chris and Tanya, even though they might have come, since they're so darn social that if you don't book them a month in advance, at least, you can pretty much forget it.
Speaking of Tanya, my bridesmaid gown is ordered and now it's time to wait. Why it should take twelve weeks for a gown to come in I have no clue. If I can have something custom made from scratch in six, why does a prefabricated gown take twice as long? And then, of course, it will have to be altered. The bridal business is quite the racket, you know. The more experience I get in people's bridal parties, the more I realise that whatever I have, my wedding will be non-traditional - and I don't just mean my gown colour. Yeesh.
And now for something completely different: take the commonly confused words test ! I scored 100% Beginner, 93% Intermediate, 93% Advanced, and 66% Expert! With 100% better than everyone in my age group. I'm not sure how accurate the percentage for my age group is, but I don't doubt I scored higher than most.
Because I'm just like that.
Saturday is the Peterborough Symphony Orchestra's Swing into Spring gala, an event that has been plagued by unfortunate events. Hopefully, the gala itself will go very smoothly and raise the PSO some needed money and will be the first in a long future of gala evenings. It is a wine and food pairing event, with music by a pair of ensembles (out of the PSO) and the popular local band, Felix and the Swing Cats. Nicole of Nocturnalia and her beau, Dan, will be coming out for the event. She will be a featured guest offering palm readings. Rick will also be out for the event, but I'm going to be pretty busy being all mingly with the guests. I had hoped that Al and Carrie would come, but I guess they're not planning on it, since I haven't heard anything. I didn't bother to invite Chris and Tanya, even though they might have come, since they're so darn social that if you don't book them a month in advance, at least, you can pretty much forget it.
Speaking of Tanya, my bridesmaid gown is ordered and now it's time to wait. Why it should take twelve weeks for a gown to come in I have no clue. If I can have something custom made from scratch in six, why does a prefabricated gown take twice as long? And then, of course, it will have to be altered. The bridal business is quite the racket, you know. The more experience I get in people's bridal parties, the more I realise that whatever I have, my wedding will be non-traditional - and I don't just mean my gown colour. Yeesh.
And now for something completely different: take the commonly confused words test ! I scored 100% Beginner, 93% Intermediate, 93% Advanced, and 66% Expert! With 100% better than everyone in my age group. I'm not sure how accurate the percentage for my age group is, but I don't doubt I scored higher than most.
Because I'm just like that.
Saturday, February 26, 2005
The Canadian Military is mocked by many for its amazing lack of, well, equipment, for one. It isn't the military's fault, but it can be somewhat embarrassing. That said, there is nothing - NOTHING - less likely to inspire awe than a soldier in full cammo carrying an enviro-hemp totebag. You know the kind, the "green" bags that were popular ten years ago that are now only carried by those who shop at health food stores.
Okay, had he been wearing fuzzy bunny slippers, that would have been less inspiring, but still, whatever effect the uniform had on anyone was completely tempered by the silliness of his overstuffed totebag.
Where did I see this fine specimen? At the Canadian Government building up near Yonge and Sheppard. There were plenty of army types walking about, as well as customs officials (there's a passport office there), and none of them really impressed me. And I like uniforms. Anyway, I was there with my mother who was dropping off her passport papers to have ready before she flies to New York. As far as I know, you don't require an up-to-date passport to cross into the USA from Canada, but it can't help to have one. I, personally, am thinking of applying for a US passport, too, for ease of travel.
Speaking of travel, I've been sending out inquiring emails to all sorts of museums here and there. Mostly, I've had either no response, or lame response. My plan was simple, get an internship in New York City. How's that working out? Well, that's the thing, it isn't working out very well at all. One museum in NY has responded, and in all honesty, the form response wasn't a good start and not having my question answered helped even less. So, I've pretty much crossed that institution off my list.
The museum that has been most excited by the prospect of my interning with it, is... in Winnipeg. I have nothing wrong with The 'Peg, as it's sometimes called. In fact, I've never even been there so I have no point of comparison. What I do know about Winnipeg is that it is a pretty funky city and has a strong arts community. It isn't very big, and its other nickname is "Winterpeg", but they have a well-known museum there, the Manitoba Museum of Man and Nature, and that museum's education/interpretation department seems to want me.
For the next little while, I'll use polite stalling tactics while I wait and cross my fingers for the Brooklyn Museum or MOMA to return my email, but I may have to get used to the idea of finding a place to live in Winnipeg. It's quite a bit farther away than New York, but it could be a lot of fun. We shall see.
In other news, utterly unrelated to school, passports, or the Military, Rick and I went to Canoe last night. This is a very high rated restaurant and one we would not normally visit (considering the price of food, etc.), but Rick had won some gift certificates through his work and we decided to use them. So, it was the most expensive dinner I've ever had (I think) and completely worth it. Every penny of it !
So, what did we eat? This:
Final bill, with tip? $310. Half of that was paid with gift certificates and the other half we're calling an early anniversary dinner in celebration of five years together. You know what one of the most pleasant parts of the meal was? It was wonderful to be treated as though every single thing we said, ordered, or ate, was a pleasure for the staff. Our waiter really gave us the feeling that he was delighted to serve us and that we were the most special of guests.
And the food was mind-bogglingly good.
I am a lucky woman.
Okay, had he been wearing fuzzy bunny slippers, that would have been less inspiring, but still, whatever effect the uniform had on anyone was completely tempered by the silliness of his overstuffed totebag.
Where did I see this fine specimen? At the Canadian Government building up near Yonge and Sheppard. There were plenty of army types walking about, as well as customs officials (there's a passport office there), and none of them really impressed me. And I like uniforms. Anyway, I was there with my mother who was dropping off her passport papers to have ready before she flies to New York. As far as I know, you don't require an up-to-date passport to cross into the USA from Canada, but it can't help to have one. I, personally, am thinking of applying for a US passport, too, for ease of travel.
Speaking of travel, I've been sending out inquiring emails to all sorts of museums here and there. Mostly, I've had either no response, or lame response. My plan was simple, get an internship in New York City. How's that working out? Well, that's the thing, it isn't working out very well at all. One museum in NY has responded, and in all honesty, the form response wasn't a good start and not having my question answered helped even less. So, I've pretty much crossed that institution off my list.
The museum that has been most excited by the prospect of my interning with it, is... in Winnipeg. I have nothing wrong with The 'Peg, as it's sometimes called. In fact, I've never even been there so I have no point of comparison. What I do know about Winnipeg is that it is a pretty funky city and has a strong arts community. It isn't very big, and its other nickname is "Winterpeg", but they have a well-known museum there, the Manitoba Museum of Man and Nature, and that museum's education/interpretation department seems to want me.
For the next little while, I'll use polite stalling tactics while I wait and cross my fingers for the Brooklyn Museum or MOMA to return my email, but I may have to get used to the idea of finding a place to live in Winnipeg. It's quite a bit farther away than New York, but it could be a lot of fun. We shall see.
In other news, utterly unrelated to school, passports, or the Military, Rick and I went to Canoe last night. This is a very high rated restaurant and one we would not normally visit (considering the price of food, etc.), but Rick had won some gift certificates through his work and we decided to use them. So, it was the most expensive dinner I've ever had (I think) and completely worth it. Every penny of it !
So, what did we eat? This:
- Lobster and cuttlefish salad (me)
- Oysters (Rick)
- Seared bluefin Tuna (me)
- Rack of lamb (Rick)
- Side of King mushrooms (shared)
- Sticky Toffee something or other (me)
- The most incredible butter tart (Rick)
- Capuccino (me)
- Coffee (Rick)
- Two glasses of white, each - Reisling for Rick, Chardonay for me
- Late harvest wine (one glass each)
Final bill, with tip? $310. Half of that was paid with gift certificates and the other half we're calling an early anniversary dinner in celebration of five years together. You know what one of the most pleasant parts of the meal was? It was wonderful to be treated as though every single thing we said, ordered, or ate, was a pleasure for the staff. Our waiter really gave us the feeling that he was delighted to serve us and that we were the most special of guests.
And the food was mind-bogglingly good.
I am a lucky woman.
Wednesday, February 23, 2005
I want to sleep. That's really all I want to do. I'm not depressed, just very, very worn out. This coming week is reading week and it can't come soon enough. Even though it will be jammed full of activities, I still look forward to a week without school. Even the knowledge that my last test score was 98% isn't enough to bouy me up. Chocolate, nice and dark, would definitely help, but I don't think we have any. If I make it to the gym tonight, maybe I'll feel envigourated. We'll see.
Yes, I promised more to come last post, but I just can't right now. There is my bed, empty of me, waiting for me to lie in it. Close my eyes and just... sleep. Mmmmm.
Yes, I promised more to come last post, but I just can't right now. There is my bed, empty of me, waiting for me to lie in it. Close my eyes and just... sleep. Mmmmm.
Saturday, February 19, 2005
First of all, I would like to wish someone, who shall remain anonymous, a very happy 30th anniversary ! You know who you are ! Congratulations on this special day, and may you see another thirty years, one day at a time. *love*
Last night, I got to see something people haven't really had a chance to see in Peterborough, at least not in the last fifty years, or something. I went to the Opera ! Yes, the Petes now boasts Lyric Stage, a brand new opera company spearheaded by Canadian singer, Eleanor James, and a merry band of the musically inclined. For their first performance, they played Cupid and Death an early Baroque opera that contains all the necessary elements to make theatre-goers blush, and has probably been doing so for three hundred years. The synopsis has Cupid and Death spending a night at an inn where a vindictive servant (spurned in love and afraid to die) switches their arrows (or, in this version, guns). What ensues is chaos as young lovers are struck dead in the midst of wooing and the ailing tear off their bandages and fall hopelessly in love. There's hetro-, bi-, homo-, transexual love and there's even a dose of bestiality. It is quite the romp ! The aging couple sitting beside me became quite uncomfortable as the "Old Men Dancing" troupe all began fondling each other. Most everyone else, mind you, laughed so hard that tears streamed down their faces.
I have to say, I haven't laughed so hard in a while. I was supposed to leave at the intermission to catch my bus into Toronto, but I was feeling pretty unsteady (thanks to a certain monthly visitor) and had the feeling that I really should see the second half of the performance. I called Rick and rearranged my plans. I don't think he was thrilled, but he still gets to see me later, so he'll live. The opera was fairly well acted and generally well sung, with the exception of a couple soloists who probably only got the parts because of family connexions, and the leads were quite good. It was a success, by my account, and a great first showing for this new little company. I look forward to their future shows.
More news to come.
Last night, I got to see something people haven't really had a chance to see in Peterborough, at least not in the last fifty years, or something. I went to the Opera ! Yes, the Petes now boasts Lyric Stage, a brand new opera company spearheaded by Canadian singer, Eleanor James, and a merry band of the musically inclined. For their first performance, they played Cupid and Death an early Baroque opera that contains all the necessary elements to make theatre-goers blush, and has probably been doing so for three hundred years. The synopsis has Cupid and Death spending a night at an inn where a vindictive servant (spurned in love and afraid to die) switches their arrows (or, in this version, guns). What ensues is chaos as young lovers are struck dead in the midst of wooing and the ailing tear off their bandages and fall hopelessly in love. There's hetro-, bi-, homo-, transexual love and there's even a dose of bestiality. It is quite the romp ! The aging couple sitting beside me became quite uncomfortable as the "Old Men Dancing" troupe all began fondling each other. Most everyone else, mind you, laughed so hard that tears streamed down their faces.
I have to say, I haven't laughed so hard in a while. I was supposed to leave at the intermission to catch my bus into Toronto, but I was feeling pretty unsteady (thanks to a certain monthly visitor) and had the feeling that I really should see the second half of the performance. I called Rick and rearranged my plans. I don't think he was thrilled, but he still gets to see me later, so he'll live. The opera was fairly well acted and generally well sung, with the exception of a couple soloists who probably only got the parts because of family connexions, and the leads were quite good. It was a success, by my account, and a great first showing for this new little company. I look forward to their future shows.
More news to come.
Tuesday, February 15, 2005
Happy Canadian Flag Day !
I can't remember if I mentioned my not-so-old printer dying or not, so forgive me if I have, but I'm going to do so now. My printer, an HP deskjet 960c, started out rather well, but sometime in the fall, approaching Christmas, it started to make a grinding sound. This began to happen after I refilled the ink cartridges, but this isn't what caused it, because I'd been refilling them for several months. In fact, I really doubt that refilled ink cartridges could be responsible for what actually happened. One of the little plastic flappy things that raise when the paper starts to come out physically came unattached and an itty-bitty little coiled spring bounced out. I tried to fix it, but all I got were grinding noises and then the paper stopped feeding through entirely. My initial plan was to take it into a shop and have it repaired, but as time wore on, I started to realise that it probably wasn't worth the price to do so.
Three months later, fliers from Staples started to arrive at the house and they had tantalising offers in them, although, not really what I was looking for. Then, a little more than a week ago, a big green flier arrived, addressed to us and it offered much more interesting and useful deals. Here began the hmming and hawing. I looked through the flier, front to back to front again; in the washroom, in my bedroom, on the couch, in the kitchen. Receiving my OSAP funding, finally, after months of problems, suddenly gave me just enough finiancial freedom to buy a new printer, but which one? Three days ago, or so, with the flier sale running out of time, I started my consumer research in earnest.
I visited several websites, including a few that were really excellent, if not necessarily helpful. The problem with many sites was the lack of reviews. There could be twenty for one printer, and none for another, which wasn't helpful at all when the missing printers were the ones I was searching for. I engaged Rick in the research as well, and between the two of us, I did end up with a number of useful reviews. Finally, I settled on the one I purchased, the Canon PIXMA iP4000. It's not the latest model in the PIXMA line, but it was available, within my price range, and had just about all the bells and whistles I needed or wanted. With knowledge in my brain, I was able to make what I think was an informed decision and ordered it on-line.
The truth is, I am very disappointed with my HP. Up until now, all my best printing experience has been with HP equipment. I was aware that my mother's Lexmark, a machine a year older than my old printer, actually did a better, more reliable job than what I was using and that was frustrating. Now, I have my Canon and I hope that it lives for years and years. Computer appliances shouldn't be disposable, and it really pained me to have to spend more money so soon after the last one was purchased. That said, maybe be able to donate the HP to a computer charity or something.
And, in the meantime, I have one Hell of a sexy printer !
I can't remember if I mentioned my not-so-old printer dying or not, so forgive me if I have, but I'm going to do so now. My printer, an HP deskjet 960c, started out rather well, but sometime in the fall, approaching Christmas, it started to make a grinding sound. This began to happen after I refilled the ink cartridges, but this isn't what caused it, because I'd been refilling them for several months. In fact, I really doubt that refilled ink cartridges could be responsible for what actually happened. One of the little plastic flappy things that raise when the paper starts to come out physically came unattached and an itty-bitty little coiled spring bounced out. I tried to fix it, but all I got were grinding noises and then the paper stopped feeding through entirely. My initial plan was to take it into a shop and have it repaired, but as time wore on, I started to realise that it probably wasn't worth the price to do so.
Three months later, fliers from Staples started to arrive at the house and they had tantalising offers in them, although, not really what I was looking for. Then, a little more than a week ago, a big green flier arrived, addressed to us and it offered much more interesting and useful deals. Here began the hmming and hawing. I looked through the flier, front to back to front again; in the washroom, in my bedroom, on the couch, in the kitchen. Receiving my OSAP funding, finally, after months of problems, suddenly gave me just enough finiancial freedom to buy a new printer, but which one? Three days ago, or so, with the flier sale running out of time, I started my consumer research in earnest.
I visited several websites, including a few that were really excellent, if not necessarily helpful. The problem with many sites was the lack of reviews. There could be twenty for one printer, and none for another, which wasn't helpful at all when the missing printers were the ones I was searching for. I engaged Rick in the research as well, and between the two of us, I did end up with a number of useful reviews. Finally, I settled on the one I purchased, the Canon PIXMA iP4000. It's not the latest model in the PIXMA line, but it was available, within my price range, and had just about all the bells and whistles I needed or wanted. With knowledge in my brain, I was able to make what I think was an informed decision and ordered it on-line.
The truth is, I am very disappointed with my HP. Up until now, all my best printing experience has been with HP equipment. I was aware that my mother's Lexmark, a machine a year older than my old printer, actually did a better, more reliable job than what I was using and that was frustrating. Now, I have my Canon and I hope that it lives for years and years. Computer appliances shouldn't be disposable, and it really pained me to have to spend more money so soon after the last one was purchased. That said, maybe be able to donate the HP to a computer charity or something.
And, in the meantime, I have one Hell of a sexy printer !
Monday, February 14, 2005
Appologies, I'm having a nerd moment. :) Hey, I'm allowed.
Andalusian. You're Graceful and Beautiful. You like
the way you are and you love to impress. You're
sweet and caring, but you can get a little show
offy. You have lots of friends and the elders
respect you. You've made a good spot out there
for yourself. Good Job!
What Breed of Horse Are You?
brought to you by Quizilla
Andalusian. You're Graceful and Beautiful. You like
the way you are and you love to impress. You're
sweet and caring, but you can get a little show
offy. You have lots of friends and the elders
respect you. You've made a good spot out there
for yourself. Good Job!
What Breed of Horse Are You?
brought to you by Quizilla