Bustin out all over

Okay, so I've been hesitatey-girl with this news, cause I am painfully aware of my history of musical career ideas. Doctor, writer, artist, bookstore owner, chef (I don't know what I was thinking that summer) and, following a much longer list than I have here transcribed, there was teaching (which stuck for a surprisingly long time). (Yes, that was past-tense).

Basically, I think the teaching idea was 'safe'. Mom certainly liked it, probably because (I think) she could imagine me actually making money that way (a luxury many of the past ideas didn't afford her). I should have realized that teaching wasn't really what I wanted to do when...oh, let's pick one: when I freaked out about leaving McMaster at all, when I failed to do any of the mandatory volunteer work, when I buried all the teacher's college brochures under dirty laundry, when I completely ignored deadlines for applications...I am one of the best people out there for avoiding things I don't want to do, I swear.
In any case (after that shameful admission that I can't quite believe I'm putting online for all to see, but then I guess that I didn't really make this blog to tell you all about my day-to-days, as boring as they are. I wanted to take risks here, I wanted to be honest and real. So, take a deep breath, and forge on, girl), I have found what is right for me. (Really!)

I want to be a publisher. Isn't that perfect?! Anyone who knows me will tell you, I'm all about the books. I'm that girl who hovers in the puffy chairs in the student centre always with her nose buried in the pages. I'm the one who won't buy a purse that's too small to hold a paperback (or the Order of the Pheonix, if you've ever seen the purses I carry). I'm the classmate wearing the eau-de-library cologne, the one with all the papercuts, the one whose walls are papered with post-its of book-release dates. I can navigate any Chapters in the southern Ontario region with my eyes closed.

So, I decided that being a publisher would be good, and I'm almost scared about how excited I am about this idea. My first plan was to go cold-calling all the publishing agencies I could find in the GTA after graduation, which was, let's face it, a flimsy approach at best. But, thankfully, I have a best friend who often takes better care of me than I do, and Lauren found this new program mentioned in a magazine. It's called the 'Creative Book Publishing Program' and it's running at Humber College (in Toronto) in May. So, (proving that this really is something I want to do), I immediately got off my ass and started the application process. So far, the head of the program (who sounds really nice- we've been in contact already) has been totally helpful and really positive, and I'm getting fairly psyched about this whole thing. I just hope I'm not jinxing anything by writing about it.

Anyways, I still have this essay to write for it, and an interview, but I'm almost looking forward to it. I really do think this program, and the job that (hopefully) follows it, are made for me. And this program is brand new, which makes it seem...well, do you ever get the feeling that certain things in the universe are happening just for you? I guess the cosmos are looking out for me.

Plus, I get treats! My mother was in Florida this past week, and it turns out that she and her sisters went to a bead show (and guess who lucked out???). Mom reports that I have a veritable fortune in dichromic glass to play with (yay!), and that I have at least a couple of orders to fill! I can't wait to get my hands on those pretties! (And make them prettier).

Anyways, I have Oscars to watch, as do all of you. Hope your springs come early!
Love B.

Good day

If you want the shortest distance between two points, don't ever send Tricia and I to find it. I don't know what it is about us, but every time we get together, no matter where we're going, we can never ever find it on the first try. I can tell you, though, that it is possible to arrive at a destination by traveling solely in u-turns.
After a slow start, Tricia and I made our indirect way to the Butterfly Conservatory, which was cool and we got a lot of pictures, hopefully good ones. Then to Niagara-on-the-Lake, where she bought me Celtic knot silver earrings for my birthday, and I got Greaves jam (the best) (blueberry rocks), and then we stumbled upon the chocolate shop Mom found, which is unexpectedly under new management, but the lady there assures me the chocolate will stay the same. After that, because neither of us was hungry enough for dinner, we drove to Ikea, where I got a new bowl (black, heavy glass, textured- I have a weakness for pretty things), some plants to put in my new bowl (I hope I can keep succulents alive), and some boxes because I never have anything to keep my stuff in. Then we were starving because Ikea is one of those places that distorts time, so we went to Tucker's Marketplace (an all-you-can-eat place) SO good! All in all it was a good day. Now if only I can get my shit together for the rest of this week...

Fuzzy At Best

It's about an hour after midnight, on the first day of Reading Week (no classes, huzzah), and I should be sleeping because I have this indefinite, ill-planned and fuzzily edged day to look forward to with Trish (ex-housemate) tomorrow, where we are going to Niagara. I'm looking forward to it, for a few reasons, including the fact that this will be the first time I'm out and about on my own in that area. I hope that my fuzzy-at-best knowledge of streets and direction in St. Catharines, Niagara-on-the-lake, the falls, and area will keep us from, oh say, driving off the escarpment or something (to make this analogy clearer, I envision Trish and I plummeting a la Aunt Robin in days far past).
I don't know if anyone can understand this (probably imagined) relationship I have with, and feeling I have for this area. There is something special about the place that your family roots are all attached to. I know that the generation before me might focus more fully on Russia being the root-area for us, but I might be just a tad too far removed to agree. St. Kitts is my roots. My mother is so connected with that place, and I love to hear old stories of hers, and to have her point out places that used to be significant to her, even though some of her stories range from long tales, involving old family homes, terrific storms that recall Titanic-like movie effects, and unexpected fowl visitors (are geese fowl? They are, right?), to short (or, more appropriately, abbreviated) tales, like "There was an old condemned house down there where my friends used to go to...what do you want for dinner?"
Right now my mother is in Florida, with her sisters. I am fairly jealous, though friends, books, beads, and lots and lots of TV call to me, and make me look forward to this week. I definitely am not looking forward to the reading that needs to be done over reading week. Bleah- that's the only time I'm going to mention that.
Here's a point that will make you smile, mom; you have sun, and highs of 25 degrees. We just got what looks like about 2 feet of snow! Yay!
Yeah, I just watched a parade of snowplows drive by. Seriously, there were three.
Anyways, I'm rambling. I wish that this week could be pure relaxation, but unfortunately there always seems to be something to focus on. Oh well, the thing that needs focusing upon right now, is sleep. Goodnight, friends. Have a good break, all.

Happy Birthday to Me

Well, fair readers, it's finally arrived. My birthday is here (as of thirty-two minutes ago), and I am twenty-four.
Wow that's a big number.
Well, I guess, technically, I'm not really twenty-four for another...seventeen hours or so (that right Mom?). That's when the namesake of this blog comes true. Fairly proud I've made it this far...

Really tired, so forgive the randomness of this blog.

Instructions from Lauren on what to do today (well, today after sleep. Sunday day, if that's any more clear):
Live it up. It's all about you - eat icing for breakfast. Wear socks that don't match just because you like them together. Stay in bed as of 7pm. Floss with licorice. HAVE A GREAT DAY!

I plan to follow her suggestions...they sound pretty good. Except I plan to modify 'floss with licorice' to 'eat lots of licorice', cause, her way...eew.

Anyways, even if the day is on the lame side of awesome, seeing as how I have to work and then study for Monday's test on Russian myth (unenthusiastic 'yay'), I plan to blog again and tell you all about it (sarcastic exclamation point)!
Good night for now...wish me many happy returns. (Except I like all my gifts, so there won't be any of those. Most are gift certificates so far anyway. Yay- looks like reading week is shaping itself into a no-guilt shopping spree for me!)

Okay, now I'm birthday-rambling. Birthday-logging off now. Good birthday-night.

Water, tests, metal, money.

Ever had one of those days that feels an awfully lot like you're the subject of a movie? Like there are a bunch of people out there watching something akin to 'Garden State', or 'Amelie', or more fearsomely like 'Being John Malkovich', but it's you up on the screen?
Wanna know how I woke up this morning? A bunch of books on a shelf beside my bed shifted. Books knocked over a closed bottle of water, there for watering Phil the Philodendron. Water bottle fell over to the shelf behind my bed, and knocked over a vase full of bamboo and gross algae water, onto my pillows, and hence, all over my hair. Waking up in a wet bed I'm sure is never pleasant and always worrisome, but when the water is trickling down the sides of your face, you know something's gone real wrong.
So, after a pile of soppy wet paper towels, a hurried shower, and change of sheets, I went to class. Where we wrote a test I didn't know about. Boo!
Had lunch with a friend from my next class where we grilled each other for the test I DID know about, wrote said test in one of those stereotypical college amphitheater rooms, where it takes a full eighteen minutes (I timed it) for the burnt-brained invigilators to hand out the tests.
Got the hell out of there and went to work. Deb gave me a present! I got a watch with a white band and two cute little glasswork hearts, in green. I'm going to make a lariat for the hearts.
Deb left and I had a class to run tonight- Chainmaking 101- and Brian showed up to teach it. Brian's pretty cool, he's in Comp Eng at Mac and makes his own jewellery. He's got a site, click on the title of this blog, I'll add the link.
So the class goes okay and the bus ride home is not so mundane as usual, cause Brian and I talk and it turns out he knows Mark (same program), and I get home and there's a letter for me and it's some bank that I have never done business with and they're offering me a loan. Who the hell gets random loan offers from foreign banks in the mail? What is this, like, "Well, she's dug herself in this deep, why not give her a shiny new shovel?!" This is the stupidest thing I've ever heard of. I've learned my lesson! I'm never taking out another loan again! Car, house, horse, whatever, I'm paying cold, hard cash from here on out, and not a cent more than what I can afford, then and there. Can't afford it? I'll go without!
And if I ever start writing this blog from my new home: #1 Fridgebox, Crackhead Alley, Ontario...you'll know why.

Adventures in Printmaking

After finally breaking down and purchasing a brand-spanking-new box of plain, sad, boring little bandaids, I've retuned to my finger-sacrificing hobby. I have tentatively finished three cuts (full pictures on blocks, not yet printed). So, tonight I decided to open up an actual bottle of ink for the first time and make a proof print (like a test print; you use crap paper instead of the good stuff. It shows you where further work is needed on the cuts). I was very careful. I got out newspaper to cover the floor. I took off all my rings, and tied back my hair. I changed into my hair-dye pants. It should have been quick, clean and easy.

Unforeseen obstacle to the quick, clean and easy plan: Buzz, the idiot freak-cat.

Picture the peaceful tableaux; a girl in neat pigtails leans over a beautiful art-nouveau inspired nameplate design, rolling black, sticky ink, in a quiet, neat manner.
Now, interrupt that tranquility with the dive-bombing out-of-nowhere mania of Buzz, the Godzilla/feline fiend! Claws extended, ears all kitten-perky, he attacks!..In the middle of a puddle of ink.
Here's an obvious statement, readers: kitten + printing ink...No good can come of this. And trust me, none did.

I suppose this could have been, all told, a minor problem, except for the fact that I (and I admit my mistake here, though I do so begging your understanding for my surprised and upset state of mind at that moment, which caused my reaction) screamed at the top of my lungs, "WHAT ARE YOU DOING YOU LITTLE MORON?!"
Which had the all-too-predictable effect of sending poor, inky Buzz TEARING ALL OVER MY ROOM!

After a ridiculous chase around said room, which should by all rights have been accompanied by some snazzy pursuit-music (preferably featuring the all-too-unappreciated banjo), a messy pigtailed, inky handed Me carried, by the scruff of his evil little neck (which might just have been the only clean piece of him), an understandably disgruntled Buzz to the bathroom, got him even more disgruntled by shoving him under the faucet and giving him a good dousing, and then threw him back into Krista's apartment.

Alone, peace restored, I returned to my room, tidied, fixed my pigtails...and watched tv for an hour. Printing suddenly seemed not-so-worth it. And kind of...tame.

Quiet evening after a visit home

I've been away the last few days visiting Mom. She has a cold- a sinus thing- so right now I'm taking bets on whether I'll get it or not. I think my odds are pretty good though- I feel fine and I very rarely get sick. VERY rarely. Though I probably just jinxed myself.
It was a good few days and Mom got me a birthday present- a gift certificate to Chapters. She said, when she gave it to me "Some day I'll get you a REAL present for your birthday"...But I don't really get what that means. Her believing that free books is not EXACTLY what I want, at any time, and for any reason, is fairly suspect, and makes me think she's forgotten who I am.
And we went shopping. I got new pillows (I love pillows. Really. Frankly there are more pillows on my bed than there is space for a person. Luckily I'm not that big a person). And I got some funky clothes, and a DVD I've been wanting for a long while. And more books. It was a prosperous trip!
Anyways, I got home and now (well, after I write this), I will study for the test I have tomorrow while watching the movie Amelie (I can't function without background noise, so don't give me that look).
I love that movie. It's clever and pretty and the first time I saw it was a weekend I'd gone back to Sarnia to babysit some girls from my old neighbourhood, and Mom came to their place after I'd put them to bed and we watched Amelie together. Mom complained right at the beginning that she'd forgotten her glasses (it's a subtitled movie), so, thinking she couldn't read the lines, I proceeded to read them to her...through the entire movie. It wasn't until after the film finished that she bothered to tell me that she could read the subtitles, but that she'd let me continue because she thought I'd enjoyed doing it. Which I kind of had, but the news was disconcerting, nevertheless.
Some movies don't have to be good to bring you back over and over, if they carry your own good memories. I guess I'm just lucky that this one is.