Ta ta twenty ten!

I don't believe in New Year's resolutions. If you're going to make a change, why wait for the new year? Like Nike, just do it. That being said, as the calendar comes to an end, I always have the same thoughts in the back of my head. Eat better, exercise more, save money. I never end up following through with anything. We're all thinking of the new year and the possibilities it holds, but few of us act upon it. Instead of looking ahead, today I'm looking back.

2010 was a good year. It didn't start out that way. In fact, it was the worst New Year's so far. I drank too much, embarrassed myself entirely, dry heaved into my friend's toilet, sobered up slightly, went way out of my way to go find my boyfriend who was pained by my mere presence (even when sober), and ended up spending the majority of January 1, 2010 at my boyfriend's friend's house with the worst hangover in history, sitting alone in a corner while my boyfriend ignored me. A few days later we ended our relationship of 2 years. I moved in with my two gay friends, got assigned as assistant stage manager for a play, and started focusing on my life. I loved and lost in a matter of 2 months. I auditioned for two theatre schools and got rejected by both. I began using film cameras, and I don't think I'll ever go back to digital. I got my motorcycle license and bought a scooter.I traveled to Vancouver to see the festival of lights and The Lion King. I decided that acting wasn't for me and chose to pursue production. I made new friends and became closer with old friends. I competed in the Vancouver International Latte Art Competition. I assistant stage managed another play. I drank, I danced, I laughed till I was hoarse, I cried till I was dehydrated, I played laser tag, I played piano, I dreamed big, I had disappointments, I made mistakes, and I appreciated the little things.

In the next year, if I eat crappy food, blow every pay cheque, and still don't fit into that dress, I won't mind as long as I've learned as much as I have this year.

Ektar 100

I am not one to praise the mass consumerism that comes with Christmas, but I can not deny that this year I have been spoiled. My father gifted me a Yashica 35 MF. He found it in a second hand store. It still has the original leather case. He cleaned out some corroded batter acid, polished it up, and it's as good as new. My mother gave me a book of the pictures taken of The White Stripes throughout their Canadian tour that took them to every province and territory. First of all, they are my favorite band. Second of all, it's a perfect depiction of the vast beauty of this country. Third of all, it's entirely analogue.

Walking home from work yesterday with my Yashica around my neck, inspired by the photos of the tundra, I took a route I've never explored. I was standing on the edge of a field. Across the field was a road. On the other side of the road was a tiny wooden house accompanied by the skeleton of a large tree. Behind the house was an open snowy field stretching up into the tree line of a small mountain. The clouds opened up and the house was hit with very bright, low angle sunlight. The kind you only get this time of year. It was the perfect photo op, except for one thing: I was standing on the wrong side of the field. I only had a few seconds before the clouds would swallow up the sun. I had to take action. I sprinted into the field, kicking up snow and mud, ruining my chucks as I ripped out weeds with my ankles. Memo to me: take it easy on the Christmas baking next year. Gasping and wheezing, I reached the road with enough time to snap a couple photos, then the clouds swooped in and everything was grey.
Put that in your iPhone hipstamatic and smoke it.

Oh, those summer nights.

Flipping through old prints has made me extremely nostalgic for the summer. It's so grey this time of year.

Reederz

I feel like I should be trying to get more people to read my blog, but there are a lot of people I know that I don't want reading it.
How do I advertise to people I don't know? Spam?
Meat doesn't belong in a can.

Stop Motion

I have a camera that looks like this.

It takes pictures like this.

I broke the pictures down into single frames and strung them together to make a series of four frame stop motions. My friend Jeff wrote the music.

I went for a walk on a Winter's day.

I'd be safe and warm if I were in LA.

Which I will be January 16th.

My best friend bought me a trip to Disneyland for Christmas.

What did your best friend get you?

Run In

Every day I find myself in bewilderment of how small this city is.
We all run in the same circle.

S'been a while

Before I start this entry, I'd like to inform you of a thought I just had.
While taking a bite out of an Arrowroot biscuit I immediately thought, "These biscuits taste like babies."

Now onto the blog!

I'm sure that all three of my followers have been spiraling downward into a deep pit of depression at my lack of updates. The reason for this: Theatre.
I've been assistant stage managing a production of Peter Pan. I got thrown into that position a week before the show opened, and have had no time to do much of anything since.

Some fond memories of the show:
-Sweeping up fairy dust into the wee hours of the morning.
-Running over my foot with a pirate ship.
-Comparing my purple toe nails with the rest of the crew who also ran their feet over with the pirate ship.
-Going home crying on multiple occasions.
-Sweeping up fairy dust.
-Having the main curtain dropped on my head during a blackout while trying to strike Nana's dog house.
-Ripping the roof off Nana's dog house and throwing it across the stage while trying to avoid the main curtain in a blackout.
-Being informed that the 80 year old playing Smee was in the hospital 45 minutes before the show started.
-Being informed 15 minutes after the show started that the celiac crocodile had ingested gluten.
-Shoving a member of the fly team into the crocodile suit and pushing him on stage.
-The director telling Peter Pan that she should throw more fairy dust.
-Sweeping up more fairy dust.
-The Lost Boys asking me if they could "recycle" the swept up fairy dust and use it for their own entrances.
-Telling the Lost Boys that the last thing we needed was more glitter and that they're only to do as the director told them.
-The Lost Boys throwing fairy dust during their bows.
-Breaking their spirit and making them sweep.
-Burning my hand on a fog machine.
-Getting slivers from the rough set pieces.
-Surpassing my known strength and shoving set pieces at full speed.

I've endured too much insanity not to get accepted into theatre school.

I have two more things I'd like to share.
On Tuesday I was partaking in some excellent live music. Really, I wanted to jump up and dance, but I instead chose to tap my foot as no one else seemed as enthusiastic. While wondering if everyone else was having their minds blown I noticed the floor shaking in unison to the foot tapping of the audience.

On Saturday I had a particularly stressful show. Afterwards I went to a cafe to wait for some friends. The barista noticed at once that I wasn't feelin' too snappy and gave me my americano and a muffin for free. I wanted to hug her. Working back stage, you sometimes get forgotten in the shadows.