A note to my readers

Yesterday, I started my second year of CreComm. I am taking eight classes – not including the work I will be doing on my IPP – and I know things will quickly become stressful.

As a result, I will not be able to post to my blog as frequently as I have this past summer. Occasionally, I may only update my blog once a week. This doesn’t mean that I don’t have anything to say; it simply means that I am just too busy to write anything new.

I will also be writing about Public Relations related topics on a weekly basis, as this is the main course I am currently studying at school. But, I will continue to keep the content varied and as interesting as possible. The name of this blog will probably change, but it will still be my thoughts, insights, and daily experiences that are expressed.

I value my readers, and I hope you will continue to follow my blog as I struggle through the next eight months.

About me

I’ve been posting to this blog for almost a year now, yet I’ve never really included anything basic about myself. Well, there’s no time like the present, so here are a few random facts about me...

My favourite colour is blue.

Ever since I was young, blue has always had a calming effect on me. It reminds me of the ocean, the sky, and everything pretty in general.

I don’t like flowers.

This might sound strange, but it’s true. I do occasionally enjoy getting flowers from people, but not anything I actually have to maintain. I prefer a book as a present...or, more recently, a gift certificate to Superstore so I can buy food.

Half the time I hate my height and half the time I love it.

Everyone in my family is tall (except my mother). Chris – my brother - is probably about 6’3” or 6’4”. My dad is 6’2”. I last measured in at just under 5’10”, which is a bit tall for a girl, in my opinion.

When I’m surrounded by short people, being tall is quite frustrating. But, when surrounded by tall people, I feel at home. It’s just one of those things that I’ll never be content with.

High-heeled shoes are my nemesis.

This ties into the height thing. I refused to wear heels when I was growing up, because they made me taller than every single guy. Now, I have serious issues walking in them. I did buy a few pairs this summer, and I’m determined to learn, but I have a long way to go before I cease to worry about falling on my face.

I play the piano.

It’s been an off and on struggle for a number of years, but the piano is something that has always filled me with a sense of joy. Music is a truly beautiful thing, and nothing can compare to it.

I collect books.

I’ve never actually counted how many I have – because I hate math – but I have a lot of books. History books, classic novels, interesting cultural specimens, everything. Some of my favourite books are the Post Secret series by Frank Warren and Vietnam Zippos.

Travel is essential to a happy life.

No place is off limits, and I will go absolutely anywhere once. This includes weekend getaways to Lake of the Woods, or more exotic locations like Europe. I also love to write about where I travel, a fact that my long-term readers will already be aware of. So far, I’ve pegged 63 cities in 13 countries on Facebook, which is a fair accomplishment for a 24-year-old if you ask me.

While interested in exotic cuisine, I’m allergic to pretty much everything.

I discovered a few years ago that I have a variety of serious allergies, many of which prevent me from being able to try new and interesting foods. Some of the more serious allergies include soy, tofu, and legumes like brown beans. I have to carry an eppy pen everywhere, and it’s really uncomfortable at house parties when I have to refuse trying appetizers because I don’t know what’s in them.

I love to be active, but I’m not very sporty.

A number of years ago, my dad and I got a treadmill. (Well, dad bought it and I tested it for structural integrity, but I consider it to be a joint effort because we’re the only two people in the family who really use it.)

We both started running, and tallied our monthly miles and times on a chart on the wall. Then, dad would enter the results into a spreadsheet that he would print out and display. If you don’t know my dad or me, this might sound odd, but we’re both very, very competitive. We wouldn’t admit it at the time, but we were always competing against each other. (But, naturally, I always won).

Then I moved out, and I try to either run or walk outside every day.

But my boyfriend is a very sporty guy, and over the years I have picked up some of his outdoor activities. Our favourites are biking, hiking, canoeing, and snowboarding. I’m not the greatest at snowboarding, but I give it my all. If I’m outside, moving around, I’m happy.

I’m addicted to school supplies.

This is a problem that has followed and taunted me for years. Even though I am a 24-year-old post-secondary student, I still want the pencil case with the hidden compartments. I always stop to look at the stacks of colourful journals, despite the fact that I write using a computer.

And pens. Don’t even talk to me about pens. I have a serious, serious problem when it comes to purchasing pens, and I love each and every single one so damn much.

Sometimes I get a little obsessive with the apartment cleaning.

I can’t write if I’m surrounded by clutter. The problem is that our apartment normally is cluttered, so I spend time each morning trying to find places for miscellaneous items. This will stop when school starts, and I don’t even want to think about what our apartment will look like then.

I want to talk to my grandparents on my mom's side again.

They both have died – my grandpa when I was only a little girl – but some irrational part of my mind keeps telling me that someday, somewhere, I might reunite with both of them, sit down, and have the greatest conversation. Nothing would be cooler than sitting down with my grandpa, drinking some beer, and listening while he tells me about his life. And my grandma would probably fall in love with my boyfriend instantly, which would be amazing to see.

My little brother and I actually get along.

I guess I shouldn’t really say “little” anymore, because he is 21 years old. But, to me, he’ll always be my younger sibling. Surprisingly, we have always gotten along, more or less. After my family moved to Winnipeg, we became incredibly close. Our bond has yet to be broken.

I ramble.

Initially, I only meant to write a few things about myself. I’m currently sitting at 1,020 words, so I think I’ll sign off for now. (It’s a lot easier to talk about yourself than I realized...)

I hope you learned something new...

Sayonara for now.

Not a comedian

I recently purchased Robin Williams: Weapons of Self Destruction on DVD. It’s his latest stand up comedy tour (from 2008) and it’s hilarious.

I remember watching various professional comedians perform on television throughout high school, and I was always in awe of their abilities. It’s difficult to come up with enough material for a fast-paced routine, but it’s especially difficult to create material that will actually keep people laughing.

At RRC, we have an optional course called Comedy Writing. It instructs students on how to write their own routine creatively and effectively. At the end of the semester, each student in the class must get up at the King’s Head Pub and perform their act in front of a live audience. Feedback is essential, and one never knows if they are truly funny until they make complete strangers laugh.

After much deliberation, I decided not to take Comedy Writing during my second and final year of CreComm. Watching Williams – a “professional” comedian – effortlessly deliver anecdote after anecdote only solidified my feelings that refusing to take the course was the right decision.

Why was this my choice, you may ask?

Well, along with the fear of being publicly ridiculed, I seriously am not funny. Sure, I can make jokes when surrounded by friends. But, I highly doubt that I could create and then perform a comedy routine that would actually make people laugh. My sense of humour is random, off-kilter, and more than slightly sarcastic, and sometimes, people just don’t understand what the hell I’m talking about.

Our Comedy Writing instructor – Kenton Larsen – assured me that everyone is capable of being funny. I disagree, and to prove my point, I’ve decided to write a comedy routine on my own time. My deadline is the end of the year, at which time I will allow a few people to read it. I’m not going to intentionally try to write a crappy routine, but I’m more than confident the result won’t be pretty.

I salute funny men like Robin Williams, Jim Carrey, and Eddie Murphy. It can’t be easy.

Burning backdrop

The fire in BC - and resulting smoke haze that has blanketed the country – reminds me of my trip to Europe last summer. More specifically, it reminds me of my last days in Athens.

Mom and I left Athens for Canada on August 24, 2009. For anyone who isn’t aware, this was during the time that severe wildfires threatened parts of the city.

The day we climbed the Acropolis to visit the Parthenon was one I will never forget. On one side of the impressive structure, our pictures were beautiful and clear with a blue sky backdrop. On the other side, however, the Parthenon was shadowed by a quickly-spreading, apocalyptic-looking haze. To be honest, it was actually pretty terrifying. I don’t really believe in Greek Mythology, but it looked like the Gods were literally getting ready to unleash their wrath upon the city.

The following day, we woke up in the wee hours of the morning to begin the long trek home. We drove down the highway to the airport while it was still dark, and barely saw another car on the road. Then, as we turned a corner, I was confronted with one of the most awe-inspiring sights of my life. On the hill, about three miles away, was a huge, angry looking blanket of flames. They cut into the darkness savagely, and lit up the sky in an angry array of red and orange.

Both mom and I didn’t know what to think, and thankfully the cab driver explained about the wildfire before we truly panicked. The fire was far enough away that we weren’t in danger, but close enough that we felt we were not quite safe.

At the airport in London, we watched BBC News report on the event while waiting for our next plane. I wanted to shout “we were just there” over and over again, as if somehow that would lessen the enormity of the situation. We hadn’t realized what was actually happening while we were in Athens, which is probably for the best. Thousands of people were evacuated, and hundreds of homes were destroyed. If we had known, we might have left early. That would have been a tragedy in itself.

If you want to read more about the Athens wildfires, a good link is BBC News. There is a video of the flames on this site, which will give you an idea about what mom and I saw that morning as we headed for the airport in the dark.

Below, I have included a few pictures that we took while atop the Acropolis on August 23, 2009. Even though the fire was burning in the suburbs of Athens during that time, the smoke travelled for miles.

We didn’t manage to take the clear, stock photographs of the Parthenon that most tourists desire. But, I think the photos we got are special in their own way. Who could have guessed that during our two days in Athens, mom and I would become more of a part of history than we ever imagined.

(These were all taken on the same day, during the same visit. I think this last one sums up the situation nicely, don't you?)

Irony

I guess it makes sense, in theory.

Last night, I burnt my index finger on my right hand. Nothing serious, but it was bad enough that Jeff and I needed to make an emergency trip to Shoppers Drug Mart for some burn spray.

I spent the entire night toggling between icing it and complaining about it. I really wanted to sit down and write a blog, but couldn't type. I also couldn't hold a pen, which I still can't do. Playing the piano was also out of the question, so instead I finished reading my 87th book of the summer.

It's funny. I spent four months writing whenever possible, then obtained an injury that made it impossible to write. I think that people don't realize how much they use their hands until they are unable to do so. Permanently losing the function of one - or both - of my hands is a horrifying thought, and something I refuse to even contemplate.

Next Monday, when I start school, I should be healed and ready to go. It's just interesting this happened to me now, at the end of my summer as a writer.

Maybe the Gods are trying to tell me something...

Or maybe, I'm just a natural klutz, and some things can't be avoided...

Something that really bugged me...

This morning, I was minding my own business (listening to music and dancing around my apartment like a ninny) when someone knocked on my door.

I didn’t open it, because anyone here to see me would use the buzzer outside. Instead, I took a quick and careful glance through the peephole. Two men were standing on the other side of the door, and both were wearing Shaw t-shirts.

I still didn’t open the door, but asked loudly through it what they wanted.

Here’s what happened:

Shaw dude: “Hello there, I’m from Shaw cable and we’re doing some work here in the building.”

Me: “I didn’t call for Shaw.”

Dude: “Yes, we know, we’re hooking up someone’s Internet in the building. It’s come to our attention that you aren’t using Shaw as your Internet and cell phone provider.”

Me: Uh...”

Dude: “You must be paying too much.”

Me: “... uh...”

Dude: “I have a special deal, $10 a month, and if you open the door I’ll give you my card.”

Me: (finally thinking of something intelligent to say) “No thanks, I’m all set.”

Dude: “Here.” (slides card under door) “When you’re ready to start saving money, give me a call.”

And they’re off, leaving me with a business card sporting a handwritten promise of Internet for $10 a month written in a casual scrawl.

I heard them knocking on every door in my building, and pretty much everyone told them to take a hike.

Don’t get me wrong. I’m all for cheap stuff. What I’m not for are people knocking on my door and trying to sell me things that I clearly state I don’t want. The Shaw guys got into the building because they are hooking up someone else’s Internet. They decided to use their temporary access to try to drum up some new business.

Not cool.

I support unique and interesting selling tactics, and I understand that everyone needs to make a living. But please, please don’t try to sell me things through my door. I’m a paranoid apartment dweller, and I will regard anyone who arrives unannounced and uninvited with suspicion. I also felt that the deal was “too good to be true,” which only compounded my frustration.

I just needed to get that off my chest. Now, I can go back to dancing to the Footloose theme song in peace.

Florence and a naked man

I didn’t like Florence.

Yes, I know, for many people it was one of the highlights of Italy, but not for me. It was hot, it was muggy, I was sun burnt, and there was a sanitation strike at the time. I literally waded through garbage as I picked my way cautiously down narrow, graffiti-laden streets in search of something impressive.

Maybe the fact that I had just spent two days in Rome, which was preceded by Venice, had something to do with my foul mood. Regardless, my one day spent in Florence was enough for a lifetime. We visited the Duomo di Firenze – the famous cathedral in Florence – and my first impression was “I’ve had better.” Sure, it was pretty, but nothing to write home about. Next, we wandered around a few squares, which were cute and covered with the usual tourist items. The only difference was that leather was the most common item that could be purchased.

The highlight of my day in Florence was a visit to the Academy Gallery to see Michelangelo’s David. Originally, the sculpture was placed in the Piazza della Signoria, but it was moved indoors in 1872. This was smart, because the last thing anyone wants is to see the world’s most famous sculpture vandalized. I spent an hour wandering around David, taking in every detail, and it was an amazing experience.

Now, I can actually say I've seen the naked man up close and in person.

(This was the alleyway we stood in to wait to enter the museum. The walls were covered with graffiti, and it looked like someones nightmare.)

I wrote a poem about my experience in Florence, and it’s hilarious. Unfortunately, I’m currently trying to get it – along with a collection of other Europe poems – published. So, I can’t post it here. I will give you the first few lines, and hopefully that will spark some interest. If you’re curious, and want to read the whole poem, I’ll send it to you.

Firenze

I’m surrounded by garbage.
I didn’t discover there was a sanitation strike until after my opinion of the city had been soiled.
It’s hot and muggy.
The man standing in front of me obviously hasn’t showered in a very long time.

But then again, that could be me who smells.

This is Europe, and personal hygiene goes out the window after about three days of travel.
A standard European bathroom leaves much to desired, and absolutely everything in the room is soaking wet after each attempt with the handheld shower wand.

Take a swim in a river. Or wait for rain. Trust me, it’s easier.

I read the entire poem at an Aqua Books Open Mic Night in July, and my audience was very receptive. They loved the part when I explained why David is proportioned incorrectly, but if you want to know why, you’ll have to read the poem.

I forgot to mention the awesome karaoke night my fellow Contiki travellers and I enjoyed. We found a dingy dive in the basement of some historic building, but it was one of the most elaborate karaoke setups I've ever seen. There was a huge stage for the performers, big screen televisions on every wall, and an abundance of really good of alcohol. It was a great night, and a great way to end a not-so-epic day in Florence.

I would visit Florence again if it was part of another, larger trip, but not if it was the featured attraction. I apologize to any Florence-lovers out there, but this was my experience and I tell the whole truth on my blog.

Stick around for detailed accounts of my excursions in Berlin, Rome, and Paris, as well as an account of how I almost died of heat stroke in Greece. :)