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Monthly Archives: January 2011

Dramatic Entrance

I’ve volunteered/been asked to be part of the technical crew for the Urban Arts Productions production of Marie Antoinette.
http://www.urbanartsproductions.com/

I’m So Excited to be back in theatre. It’s something I did and enjoyed in high school. (That’s an understatment. I literally lived in the auditorium for 3.5 years.)
I’m not acting and I don’t want to. I don’t feel like I need to be in the spotlight anymore. Besides, I ain’t purdy enough anyway :p

We had our first read-through tonight and the next month is packed with rehearsals! We also got the photo shoot done, which involved a lot of hoop-skirts and safety pins. (Note to self, bring a lot of safety pins to next costume rehearsal)

The show is held in the BC Maritime museum. It’s such an AMASING venue. It’s the old Victoria courthouse, it replaced the courts held in the birdcages in the BC Legislature’s basement. The third floor is the beautifully restored courtroom, once presided over by the (in)famous Judge Matthew Baillie Begbie, nicknamed the Hanging Judge. Some of the furniture is the only surviving Colonial furniture left in BC. And YOU, yes, you can sit in it and watch some incredible theatre.
(Gratuitous Local history blurb. I love history, and it’s so amasing to be able to do a production like this in such a unique and history-rich setting.)

So yes. Contact tickets@urbanartsproductions.com for ticket information. Show dates are Feb 24, 25, 26, Mar 3, 4, 5. I hope to see you there!

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Procrastination

I does it WONDERFULLY.

Currently, I’m on four of nine articles to read for my American history class. It’s tedious reading. The current article is the Knights of Labour (an early labour union) manifesto/constitution/rules of operation.
The article before was a court transcript of a NYC Machinst who was getting edged out by the extensive use of assembly lines and automated machinery.

It’s not exactly consuming.

I did finish reading the French Declaration of the Rights and Freedoms of Man and the American Declaration of Independance (which is a lot of whining, really) for European history. And most of what I am to read for BritLit. Left a couple poems to depress me while I eat lunch tomorrow.

So, I’m telling you about my not reading my readings instead of reading.

 

I spent today florist hunting with KC. We talked to 7 or 8 different florists, and it was only the last 3 that took flowers and put them together in front to show for examples and general ideas. And KC went from thinking of mostly roses to something a little simpler but so great for her. No matter what she picks (We didn’t settle with any one design or florist) she’s going to have some fantastic flowers to carry with her.

And! I made Eddie pick the favours (it was between two options) so that’s that done, too. We’re actually very nicely on track for this. We just need to start making things, like the flowers for the general decor.

Wander on Down Memory Lane

Because it’s been a while since I posted, have a double shot.

When I’m getting to know someone new, someone I really want to get to know better, to know inside and out, I often ask what is their favourite memory.

Well, I’ll share mine. Or, at least, one of mine.

I’m about 7. Maybe 6, but not yet 8. So more than likely 7, as that’s when I remember learning to ride a bike.
I grew up a younger sibling in a house with a big yard. It takes almost an hour to mow, it’s big. My bike was my brother’s old bike. And I don’t think it was new for him. Perhaps new to him, passed down from an older cousin, maybe. It was green, that sparkly paint bikes have. It had a big white seat with one of those upside-down U-shaped bars on the back (Were those meant to be backrests or something?).
I don’t think it had any gears.

Anyway. I’m about 7. It might be late spring, might be summer, the exact details are a little hazy. It’s sunny, I remember that. My hair was long and in a braid. I didn’t have to wear a helmet. Dad was teaching me to ride a two-wheeled bike without training wheels.
We had been trying for a few times, on the grass (the gravel driveway was deemed unsafe for my knees and hands, apparently). We’re over by the woodshed, Dad’s giving me a running start. He let go just past the shed, right near where the ground starts to slope downwards towards the barn. I’m peddling, and notice Dad’s feet aren’t beside me anymore. But I’m riding my bike, all by myself. It’s the best feeling in the world.

And then I turn my head, my arms follow, moving the front tire to nearly sideways and over I go. But I learned to ride a bike that day.

My Daddy is my hero. There really isn’t anything he doesn’t know about life. He can figure out my taxes, but we both can’t stand math. He’s honest, hard-working, loyal, practical, and really very wonderful. Not the most talkative, not very elegant (not clumsy, but the man’s been a logger since the late-70s.), and can be crass at times. But he’s my Dad. And there really isn’t anything I would not do for the man. I would give him both of my kidneys. Or my heart. If he needed it.
I’m such a Daddy’s girl. It’s not even funny.

Which is the cause, in a slight ripple effect, of my worst memories. But we won’t go there, we’ve got a lovely image of a young girl learning to ride a bike in our heads.

My family isn’t very close. Even my nuclear family isn’t close. I talk to my brother maybe once every couple of months. I do call home more often, mostly because I know Papa likes me to check in and let him know I’m okay.
I don’t even know if he understands what I’m taking in school, but I tell him anyway (He dropped out of high school to work) when he asks. I like to think he’s proud to have a daughter in university.

And with that, I am away to read a little, listen to the rain and then go to bed. Sweet dreams!

Lovely, Lovely Rain

Have I mentioned lately that I actually really enjoy the rain?

Though, I must admit, not when I’m trying to set up camp and I’m cold and wet and getting to be miserable because I am cold and wet and the damned rope for the tarp will not go high enough, and the rain is trickling down my sleeve….

But when I’m cosy inside my tent (or room) and here it tapping (pounding) against the tarp over my tent (or bedroom window) I feel safe. Secure.
I’m reminded of countless nights at home, growing up. My bed in the dormer that created most of the space in my room, the rain pelting the cedar shakes of the roof and tapping against the window, making that sound that only water against glass can make. I’m in bed, with the multiple old Queen-sized blankets that I loved on my twin bed. (Mum never understood my love affair with oversized blankets. Still doesn’t, but I love have blankets big enough to roll myself up in.) I would have been reading, with the lamp on. The cat may have been curled up at the end of my bed, maybe not. The house is quiet, and finally, the day is at peace. No one is yelling (A Several-Times-a-Day occurence once I got to high school), no one is asking/telling me to do something when I’m already busy doing another chore. I’m off in my own world, escaped into the realm of whatever book I’m reading.

I also love reading, which is good, as I have a metric [expletive]-tonne of reading this semester. I’m reading Johnny Got His Gun for American History, Heart of Darkness and the Congo Diary for European History as well as for my EngLit class. And for English Lit, I’m reading Heart/Darkness and C.Diaries and Mrs Dalloway, plus various other pieces.
Not to mention all the articles/primary resources for my history seminars.

Which means my fun reading isn’t going to happen much. I’m halfway through The House at Riverton which is superbly written thus far. It’s by Kate Morton, she’s written a few books. I read Her Fearful Symmetry mostly because I loved the line in Blake’s Tiger, Tiger. And Symmetry does not disappoint at all. Better than The Forgotten Garden, also by Morton. So good. Ms Morton is definitely a good read if you like a good twist, and multi-generational characters and plot lines that are complex and interesting.
I’m also halfway through The Guardian of Paradise about a women in the late 40s in Newfoundland, and her struggles with being an outcast in society, but she created her outcast status. It’s hard to explain, and nothing really happens, it’s sort of like a Victorian novel that way, but it’s very good. There is… a strange character that isn’t in the story often, but it almost revolves around them… Again, I recommend it.
It’s also one of the few books I’ve picked up by a male author. I’ve noticed I read a lot of books written by women.

Classes started this week, and I’ve got the three classes. I tell myself every semester that I’m going to do better this time than I did last time. And sometimes I do actually do better, but usually by the end of the semester, I’m so frazzeled that I can barely drag myself to the seminar, and you can be sure I’ve only skimmed a couple of the articles.
So, hopefully, I’ll get on top of that this term and fully read at least one of the articles for every class. :p

It seems like a good song for this rainy night. Jaime Cullum is a very talented young man.

I hope your rainy evenings can be filled with good memories, or at least a security in the knowledge of being warm and dry while the outside is decidedly not.

Slacker

Greetings, from the future!

I honestly never thought I’d make it this far. Growing up, I could clearly see my life until my 17th birthday. I could never see past it, it was all black. That’s why I panicked about it. And then nothing happened. Well, I did meet S on my 17th birthday weekend… But we won’t count that.

Over the past year, I’ve had some concerns about a certain part of my health. I talked to three doctors this year, and they all brushed me off. I went to see my family doctor when I went home for the holidays, and took Mum along. The Dr got me some blood tests and a referral for an ultrasound. (That reminds me, I should find a clinic tomorrow…) The bloodwork came back normal, which is nice to hear.

This year brings… a potentially very busy me!
I’ve got school, and will be finally finishing some sort of degree this spring!
I’m the planner for Eddie and KC’s wedding. (OH! Need to call about the candies!)
I should be finding a job this term as well. Hopefully soon-ish.

And, the most exciting thing: I’ve decided that I WILL go to Paris by the end of this year. Hopefully I won’t have to go alone. I am also thinking of late August/early September, but we’ll see what the year brings between now and then.

I’m taking a dance class, which starts next week, I believe. I am also looking into a bootcamp/circut training/other excersize class. I feel like I really need a kickstart in this regular activity thing. I really dislike how I use the “poor weather” as an excuse. I also lack any sort of motivation, which is a recurring theme with me. :/

I have also slackened on my vegetarian ways. I’ve been indulging in carniverous ways… I’ll pick it up more as I get more dollars for groceries. This in-between period for student loans can be pretty brutal. I want to make sure I’m still getting my protein and nutrients while eating next-to-nothing…

I am hoping this year brings about some wonderful things.
Pretty sure it will though. I’m in a pretty good city that I’m learning about more and more.
School is progressing, and I must decide soon whether I’m going to be a historian or feminist for my next schooling adventure…
There is a pretty neat man (I’m grown up enough to a point where “boy” doesn’t cut it anymore. Ack! Yay!) I’m keen on. He’s led me to believe he’s also keen on me, so we’ll see where that goes.
And Scouting is, as always, there for me.
My Scouting family never disappoints and always gives more than you can imagine, so I see it as my contribution to give back and to try to be the best person I can, to bring out the best in others. The Scouting Way.

Cheers.