Fingers crossed!
But if that doesn't pan out, I'll still be one busy beaver.
Fencing lessons start later in the month, signed up for mainly for the novelty of telling people I'll be taking fencing lessons. Like seriously, who does that? I'm also trying to get into a pilates class. Being as poor as I am I can take classes at the local rec center at half off, but the pilates class requires that the class be half full before anyone can sign up with a discount, so, wait and see on that one. I just wish they'd let me sign up online, but with the card they gave me, I have to sign up for classes in person. How terribly primitive.
This month the Sidney Reading Series starts up again, at the Red Brick Cafe, and while they don't often feature poets, I like listening to all kinds of writers talk about writing. Among those who will be reading is Mary Novik, whose book I fell in love with after randomly pulling it off the shelves at the library and have since ordered my own copy in the hopes of getting it signed but I only just hope the 80%off sticker peels off cleanly because that might be tad bit embarrassing. I had heard a rumour Lorna Crozier would be reading at some point but all the posters I've seen around town don't mention her, which is a bit of a heart breaker. She is one of my absolute mostest favourite poet ever ever, especially since Ondaatje turned out to be... well... grumpy might be the nicest way of saying it. Fart works, too.
And if all that isn't exciting enough, I've also got a Trades Exploration course starting up in January at Camosun, which should help in refining my plans for the future!
After after allllll that, it's time to go to Turkey! I doth heart the adventuring... le sigh.
And tomorrow I'll either send out more poems since I recently added a number of literary magazines to my pile of flash cards, or... vacuum.
Tuesday, September 8, 2009
Friday, August 14, 2009
I wrote dinoporn poetry, of course I giggle when I say 'poo'.
I'm terribly clumsy. So, long story short, we've been out a blender for some time. But no more will my frozen canned pina colada mix thing sit idle in the freezer, having gone on sale the day after 'the incident' and myself having forgotten and stocked up on frosty deliciousness, for we visited costco! My manfriend and I took his sister and her manfriend in, us having the much coveted costco card, to buy toilet paper. And of course we came out with a cart worth 200$... And...! No, not a blender, but something even better!! A 'Smoothee-Bar'! Ya, it's a blender with a spout bit at the bottom... but you can both blend and pour... at the same time! It's amazing. I'm amazed.
I'm also amazed that I survived an hour hike up a mountain that almost did me in, a full day on a lake, fishing from a sketchy raft we found, lol, and paddled around on with freaking sticks, in the rain, and didn't manage to catch a single thing. Like, seriously? Effort=reward! Get it right, nature.
Nature, though, has provided me with a nag. A wisp of an idea that I know must surely solidify into an idea, some fabulous thought, both deep and whimsical, that can then be teased into words, words crafted into poetry. If only I could just sit and think! I need moments (yes, plural, it's that vague of an idea, it's a nag after all, a wee tug at the back of my mind) to dedicate to the art of pondering. Pooh-style. (teehee, poo!).
My nag: A great big tree I pass in the morning, really really early in the morning, like pre-sun-rise-and-that-time-when-sane-people-wake-up, stretches its canopy over a large portion of sidewalk and throughout the night will have left a circle of sticky all around it, strong enough to tug at my shoes. What kind of tree leaks from it's leaves, it's branches' tippy bits? Is that what's happening? I don't know. But in the afternoon, walking home that same way, I always walk on that same stretch of sidewalk and see it sprinkled with bees, wasps, hornets, a potpourri of stingers in all different fashions of stripes, stuck or ... what? What are they doing? My shoes no longer stick, but these little fellows, a handful of them, have congregated, mellow and well-spaced, so I don't have to step on them, and they don't seem to get too riled up. How terribly interesting, no?
I'm also amazed that I survived an hour hike up a mountain that almost did me in, a full day on a lake, fishing from a sketchy raft we found, lol, and paddled around on with freaking sticks, in the rain, and didn't manage to catch a single thing. Like, seriously? Effort=reward! Get it right, nature.
Nature, though, has provided me with a nag. A wisp of an idea that I know must surely solidify into an idea, some fabulous thought, both deep and whimsical, that can then be teased into words, words crafted into poetry. If only I could just sit and think! I need moments (yes, plural, it's that vague of an idea, it's a nag after all, a wee tug at the back of my mind) to dedicate to the art of pondering. Pooh-style. (teehee, poo!).
My nag: A great big tree I pass in the morning, really really early in the morning, like pre-sun-rise-and-that-time-when-sane-people-wake-up, stretches its canopy over a large portion of sidewalk and throughout the night will have left a circle of sticky all around it, strong enough to tug at my shoes. What kind of tree leaks from it's leaves, it's branches' tippy bits? Is that what's happening? I don't know. But in the afternoon, walking home that same way, I always walk on that same stretch of sidewalk and see it sprinkled with bees, wasps, hornets, a potpourri of stingers in all different fashions of stripes, stuck or ... what? What are they doing? My shoes no longer stick, but these little fellows, a handful of them, have congregated, mellow and well-spaced, so I don't have to step on them, and they don't seem to get too riled up. How terribly interesting, no?
Monday, August 3, 2009
When I grow up, I want to be Tina Fey.
A lot of looking to the future, not a lot of looking to the now.
What does this mean to the writer-me? Not a lot of writing. For now. And maybe not for a bit.
A year has passed since university, and life and writing-life never fit fully into any good groove. Work-work never got into a steady rhythm, and money always seems too tight. The up until now now-plan was to work part-time, write, and housekeep. But the now-plan was just that, a now-plan. It only works for the now, with no room to evolve into a future now-plan, since it sorta had no room for a future-plan. So it's time, having had the now-plan in effect long enough to know that it is not entirely fulfilling, to focus on the future-plan. And dream up a future now-plan.
So, what do I want to be when I grow up...?
I'm thinking of learning a trade. I'll follow the footsteps of other BC poets like Kate Braid and Jane Munro and finance my writing habit through hard labour. So I've been doing a lot of research, not into the mating habits of dinos (le sigh), but into all the different kinds of trades available, and where to learn them. And of course fishing up contacts for folk in the know who
wouldn't mind having a little buddy tag along for a day and see what it's all about, 'cause, in all seriousness, I don't know much about much.
Electricity comes out of walls.
Wings make planes fly.
Cars have wheels. Oh, and red cars go the fastest.
What does this mean to the writer-me? Not a lot of writing. For now. And maybe not for a bit.
A year has passed since university, and life and writing-life never fit fully into any good groove. Work-work never got into a steady rhythm, and money always seems too tight. The up until now now-plan was to work part-time, write, and housekeep. But the now-plan was just that, a now-plan. It only works for the now, with no room to evolve into a future now-plan, since it sorta had no room for a future-plan. So it's time, having had the now-plan in effect long enough to know that it is not entirely fulfilling, to focus on the future-plan. And dream up a future now-plan.
So, what do I want to be when I grow up...?
I'm thinking of learning a trade. I'll follow the footsteps of other BC poets like Kate Braid and Jane Munro and finance my writing habit through hard labour. So I've been doing a lot of research, not into the mating habits of dinos (le sigh), but into all the different kinds of trades available, and where to learn them. And of course fishing up contacts for folk in the know who
wouldn't mind having a little buddy tag along for a day and see what it's all about, 'cause, in all seriousness, I don't know much about much.
Electricity comes out of walls.
Wings make planes fly.
Cars have wheels. Oh, and red cars go the fastest.
Tuesday, July 28, 2009
Boo Google. 50 dkp MINUS!
Win a Sony Reader, but only if you live in the U.S. Boo-urns.
I entered anyways... :P
What will reading look like in 100 years? "Reading will be fluid. Novels, articles, poetry even, will be fully integrated into life. Words will flow from writer to reader as instantly as either desires. Reading will be then, and forever, the first love of many, words as intimate as though wrapped around our fingers; they may very well be."
I entered anyways... :P
What will reading look like in 100 years? "Reading will be fluid. Novels, articles, poetry even, will be fully integrated into life. Words will flow from writer to reader as instantly as either desires. Reading will be then, and forever, the first love of many, words as intimate as though wrapped around our fingers; they may very well be."
Thursday, July 9, 2009
Mexico was so hot the mexicans were sweating!
Mexico was fantastic. I'll miss the abundance of guacamole and parrots.
Of course, upon coming home, I was hit with a case of the blahs. Real life is just so... blah. I like vacationing. It doesn't help that I came home to a work schedule of afternoons. I hate working later in the day; it gives me an entire morning to brood on the workday ahead, so of course I can't get anything done. So despite the mexican refresher, nothing new has been produced.
Periods in which nothing gets written, a dry spell one could call it, is not a bad thing if you can identify the causes, and endeavour to enjoy the respite. View it as a chance to wash clean of any bad habits that inadvertently crept into your writing, to dispel whatever was plaguing you before to get written, to distance yourself from the challenges that bogged you down before. Identify this as a time to 'not write' and be grateful for it. When you return to your desk, your pen, you will be as new, able to sit before your poems, written and not, and see them afresh. The main thing is to remain calm and happy, and not panic or beat yourself up over all the not-writing you're doing. Remember, lots of people are not-writing.
I had a fantastic time last weekend when a friend came to visit. I suppose any night the strata president calls with a noise complaint is a good night. Whoops.
And this weekend will have lots and lots of time spent with family
*** this is where my computer craps out and I start up the bfs comp to finish the post. While waiting, I run the dishwasher, put on a pot of water for tea, and check the mail. Ohh a package for me!
Ahem, this weekend will have lots and lots of time spent with family out of town, which I'm very excited for!
... His computer screen is so small. And this ergonomic keyboard is, uh, challenging to say the least!
Ya, my computer is, uh, ya. Earlier in the week my video driver... melted... corrupted... vanished? Whatever, I redownloaded it. I did see that one coming though, strange flickers in the video when playing WoW, the occasional blank screen, and then of course the full return to 8bit colour. Nice. Fixed now, but...
The firefox isn't so hot. Completely draining all resources, and after 6pm when my virus scan starts, my comp is totally out of commission for the day. Never mind the random freezes throughout. Buh. I can look over at my comp right now and see the task manager showing two firefox.exe, each at 50% cpu occasionally 49/51. Like, why?
Don't worry though, a bluescreenofdeath did prompt a full backup of all my writing as soon as I got back from the mexico!
My tea is ready.
My package from the mail? Let's call it a souvenir from mexico. Except instead of spending an outrageous amount of money at the resort's boutiques, I came home and bought the same thing off ebay for cheap. Lol. Savvy!
Of course, upon coming home, I was hit with a case of the blahs. Real life is just so... blah. I like vacationing. It doesn't help that I came home to a work schedule of afternoons. I hate working later in the day; it gives me an entire morning to brood on the workday ahead, so of course I can't get anything done. So despite the mexican refresher, nothing new has been produced.
Periods in which nothing gets written, a dry spell one could call it, is not a bad thing if you can identify the causes, and endeavour to enjoy the respite. View it as a chance to wash clean of any bad habits that inadvertently crept into your writing, to dispel whatever was plaguing you before to get written, to distance yourself from the challenges that bogged you down before. Identify this as a time to 'not write' and be grateful for it. When you return to your desk, your pen, you will be as new, able to sit before your poems, written and not, and see them afresh. The main thing is to remain calm and happy, and not panic or beat yourself up over all the not-writing you're doing. Remember, lots of people are not-writing.
I had a fantastic time last weekend when a friend came to visit. I suppose any night the strata president calls with a noise complaint is a good night. Whoops.
And this weekend will have lots and lots of time spent with family
*** this is where my computer craps out and I start up the bfs comp to finish the post. While waiting, I run the dishwasher, put on a pot of water for tea, and check the mail. Ohh a package for me!
Ahem, this weekend will have lots and lots of time spent with family out of town, which I'm very excited for!
... His computer screen is so small. And this ergonomic keyboard is, uh, challenging to say the least!
Ya, my computer is, uh, ya. Earlier in the week my video driver... melted... corrupted... vanished? Whatever, I redownloaded it. I did see that one coming though, strange flickers in the video when playing WoW, the occasional blank screen, and then of course the full return to 8bit colour. Nice. Fixed now, but...
The firefox isn't so hot. Completely draining all resources, and after 6pm when my virus scan starts, my comp is totally out of commission for the day. Never mind the random freezes throughout. Buh. I can look over at my comp right now and see the task manager showing two firefox.exe, each at 50% cpu occasionally 49/51. Like, why?
Don't worry though, a bluescreenofdeath did prompt a full backup of all my writing as soon as I got back from the mexico!
My tea is ready.
My package from the mail? Let's call it a souvenir from mexico. Except instead of spending an outrageous amount of money at the resort's boutiques, I came home and bought the same thing off ebay for cheap. Lol. Savvy!
Monday, June 8, 2009
Maybe my rogue will get past level 74 today, cuz I ain't going in to work!
Oh, I'm sick. So sick. I'm going to eat chocolate ice cream for breakfast, cuz my throat hurts, my skull aches, and my face is filled with goo.
Dear Mexico, please be kind to my weakened immune system, this cold is wearing me out.
Love, a super fan.
Dear Cold, goooo awaaaay!
From your worsest nightmare ever, rarr!
Dear Goo, get out get out get out!
From you-know-who.
Dear Friends and Family, if I don't make it through this, and I may not if the ice cream runs out, please have my remains placed in the pool at Cancun, so that I may float through eternity in sunshine. Also, tape a Pina Colada to my clenched fist, I like those.
Love, a somewhat pathetic sicky.
Dear Mexico, please be kind to my weakened immune system, this cold is wearing me out.
Love, a super fan.
Dear Cold, goooo awaaaay!
From your worsest nightmare ever, rarr!
Dear Goo, get out get out get out!
From you-know-who.
Dear Friends and Family, if I don't make it through this, and I may not if the ice cream runs out, please have my remains placed in the pool at Cancun, so that I may float through eternity in sunshine. Also, tape a Pina Colada to my clenched fist, I like those.
Love, a somewhat pathetic sicky.
Wednesday, June 3, 2009
It's like a diary entry, without so much angst.
It is hot out. The weather seems to have gone from "jacket and a scarf" to "god damnit now I gotta shave my legs" over night. But that's ok. I was gonna shave them soon anyways; I'm going to mexico in less than two weeks!
In other news, I had a dentist appointment yesterday, and was able to schedule a follow up appointment for this saturday. The hygienist there was very gentle and had worked in a periodontist office for a while and so understood my paranoia surrounding the gum graft I'd had done a year ago. The dentist himself was very nice too. And the receptionist was very accommodating when it came to scheduling appointments, as everything needs to get done before the end of the month, when I will most likely loss... loose.. er.. loos... looozze (what?) my benefits.
Not only does 'poet' not come with a salary, the benefits suck too. The hours are nice though.
A few more rejection letters, and a slew of lit mags have reached the end of their reading periods and wont be accepting any new material until september. I am considering sending material to online magazines, something I've yet to do.
I planted some mint. And by planted I mean I bought two thingers of mint in the plastic pots and stuck those out on my patio. They came with dirt in them and I threw a cup of water at 'em. They'll be fine. I'm gonna make mojitos! I have to make ice cubes first though.
I don't have much else to type about... so I will tease you with some sample lines from my bestest dino porn poem:
"Everywhere they go, a hundred tons
of flesh smacks against another
hundred tons..."
Writing this poem I learned three new words: thews, milt, and amative. Oh what fun!
In other news, I had a dentist appointment yesterday, and was able to schedule a follow up appointment for this saturday. The hygienist there was very gentle and had worked in a periodontist office for a while and so understood my paranoia surrounding the gum graft I'd had done a year ago. The dentist himself was very nice too. And the receptionist was very accommodating when it came to scheduling appointments, as everything needs to get done before the end of the month, when I will most likely loss... loose.. er.. loos... looozze (what?) my benefits.
Not only does 'poet' not come with a salary, the benefits suck too. The hours are nice though.
A few more rejection letters, and a slew of lit mags have reached the end of their reading periods and wont be accepting any new material until september. I am considering sending material to online magazines, something I've yet to do.
I planted some mint. And by planted I mean I bought two thingers of mint in the plastic pots and stuck those out on my patio. They came with dirt in them and I threw a cup of water at 'em. They'll be fine. I'm gonna make mojitos! I have to make ice cubes first though.
I don't have much else to type about... so I will tease you with some sample lines from my bestest dino porn poem:
"Everywhere they go, a hundred tons
of flesh smacks against another
hundred tons..."
Writing this poem I learned three new words: thews, milt, and amative. Oh what fun!
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