Whadda’week

Friday:

I went into work for what I thought was going to be work talk but was instead a bunch of friends offering wine and picking favorite cuties on the greyhound rescue website.

We later made it to three of the four art openings happening in the city.
(at, The First Nations University, the Creative City Center and robBos Art Project Gallery)

Ate a lot of cheese, sat in a glass tipi, ran through a field-ish, made some new friends, drank from the communal boxed wine, had a childhood friend describe my blog as,

“It’s like a travel log, except just for your life”
– love this, had major girl talk circle time, had a super in depth like 2 hour conversation about relationships-poetry-photography-everything with someone I’d just met, had two photo shoots (one under pretty street lights and one with a lot of screaming), dance partied, got 2 for1 pizza, hugged a lot, had 4am under the covers girl talk and saw a lot of various art, obviously.

Saturday:

“I think I need to lock myself in my bedroom.”

This is a text I sent to girlfriends going out and doing fun things.

I walked down the street to the hospital and bought two XL double doubles from Robins Donuts (my mom fricken loves Robins like you have no idea, they’re so nostalgic to me) in my pajamaz with crazy pulling my hair out hair, and basked in my favorite part about the hospital: it’s like the opposite of everywhere else! No fake smiles, no small talk, no having to lie when someone asks how you are, because in fact, no one asks you at all! It’s amazing there. No one can judge you, or be rude, or nosy or snobby like how people can so often be in real life. Going to the hospital just to get coffee is kind of like being in disguise, it feels almost wrong but not actually.

I ordered the pad thai I’ve been day dreaming about all week for delivery.

I listened to CBC radio 3 forever.

I spent too much time stalking people on facebook.

I encountered a very hurtful argument with an extended family member on facebook. The kind that makes you go, “uhhh wtf! really? uhhh…. ” so I cried about and dealt with that.

Then I finally finished (mostly) what I’ve been trying to finish all week; the written portion of my application to Emily Carr, and had an amazing response from people willing to read it through and offer advice. An old friend of my dads often sits on the acceptance committee for the arts programs at the university where she works so I followed her suggestions mostly.Thanks Marnie!

Around 3am my girlfriends, Jera and Eve, came over and we drank tea in my kitchen and talked shop (this is a bad joke, by ‘shop’ I mean relationships, ha! ahahaha) which led to deciding what animals we would be, and what animals our friends would be. Eventually it was 5am and they were being the most adorable comforter wearing duo ever and I was doing impersonations of people as their animal, apparently I have a natural talent.

We had a hard time deciding what I am.
First I was a fox, nah a horse, nah a deer, hmmm no actually a cheetah, hmmm fox?

Sunday and Monday:

More hair pulling out, waiting for images to load, eating left over thai food forever, re-writing, worrying, saying “ughhhhh” out loud a lot, ect.

Tuesday:

I went to this tutorial/session on how Twitter works at The Highland Broker which I’d never heard of before but is basically a mortgage broker who wears a kilt to work everyday and his 3 rad friends who specialize in social media and business. Kind of my ideal way to spend an afternoon, chugging coffee and learning/discussing social media strategy.

Spent about 3 hours at Atlantis (downtown open late coffee shop) finishing up my portfolio. I got to that place of ‘I’ve been looking at my own art work for so long that I can’t even tell what’s good and what’s not’ and ‘I’m too emotionally attached to these pieces for my own good’. I needed to ditch two of the images I already had to be replaced with some that showed more range, techniques and materials but I was having an awful time about it.

So I decided to go find someone who could see them with outside eyes and help me out. As soon as I stood up (I was hiding at the back in a corner) I saw my good friend Eric, who had innocently just slipped in to use the washroom, and dragged him over. He was worried about making decisions for me but his un-biased reactions to each piece did the decision making for him, and me. It was also just straight up nice to feel encouraged and told honestly that I’m talented. At times like those it’s so easy to feel absolute much self doubt. My favorite part was when he said that I “have a very interesting perspective on the female body.” with serious eyebrow action happening. CUTE.

It was totally a “Who Wants to be a Millionaire – call a friend” miracle moment.

Wednesday – Friday:

Weeerked every day all day, submitted my soul to be evaluated by Emily Carr, saw the Combat Improv show, smoked sheeesha, deconstructed + reconstructed (space and emotions), moved these gigantic glass shelf cases around, made a jewelry display that I really like of a mannequin head wearing a blue vintage hat and an antler as a crown with rings on it, cried a lot and felt stupid lonely – what a frustrating human emotion – the desire to be held, wrote, went to a friends rad birthday party, played drinking card games, ate a lot of brie cheese, everything and everyone was matching, went d-d-dancing, put on my “big voice” aka my charming – selling voice, drank a lot of coffee.

You know, the usual.

Tonight I also had a long nap (but I’m still totally tired) and painted my nails.

So, this is basically my extended excuse of why it’s been so long since I wrote a blog post, I’ve been feeling guilty about it. Too wrapped up in other things and neglecting what I actually want to be doing, classic.

Here’s a screen shot of my portfolio:
(my computer is totally over worked and angry at me so it would literally take hours to upload every image individually)

One down, 3 or 4 to go. Testing my application stamina, whew.

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So I’ve been writing a lot of poetry lately.

I think of them as edited ‘stream of consciousness’ pieces. I’ve been told that it’s ‘prose poetry’ but it’s written without an intended style in mind. Essentially I write and write and write and then edit the dumb parts out. Some of it is pretty R rated but mostly they’re just about relationships, social situations, observations and connections I like to sew between things. You can read them if you wanna,

Tis the Season
monday (R)
Does it count as morning pages if I just haven’t been to bed yet?
Romantic about Romance
Chomp Chomp
The Only Word Our Generation Seems To Know
the cycle of holding (R)
Thursday Thoughts (R)
Performance Perception
tell me something new

(and also tell me what you think, if you want?)

Sometimes Hurricanes Need Containers.

Image

This summer, I saw a Fringe show by the stand up poet/story teller/comedian Jem Rolls, he is fantastic, hilarious and so inspiring. He had a joke that went something like,

 

“Why would anyone go digging around in their insides and emotions?”

 

“Well, because I’m a poet, and that’s what poets do.”

 

I laughed so hard at this point, almost spitting beer onto the person in front of me. I would say that this is what many artists do, or at least what I do, in making art. I have often felt like I cannot accurately interpret or process my experiences unless I’ve made art about them, like I cannot understand my life, or myself, until it’s been reflected back at me.

 

Magicians need direction. Chaos needs structure. Creativity needs a place.

 

I am a hurricane and this blog will be my container.