(il)literati

In my research, I have come across the work of some fantastic writers. One person who has really stood out to me is Nigerian poet and author Ben Okri. In his book A Way of Being Free, he often seems to see clearly into the hearts of all sorts of people. One phrase that I like in particular:

"A young woman, standing on a shore, looks out into an immense azure sea rimmed with the silver line of the horizon. She looks out into the obscure heart of destiny, and is overwhelmed by a feeling both dark and oddly joyful. She may be thinking something like this: 'My soul looks forward and wonders—just how am I ever going to get across?"

I just picked up Sarah Slean's latest album, The Baroness, and am finding it to be her best yet. Definitely recommend.

This is a quiet Saturday. Last night a bunch of us went out to Main Hall, a place that always seems to bring out the crazy in everyone who goes there. I spent too long talking to a moustached man, my one friend accidentally swan-dived off the side of the stage while dancing, and most of us aren't sure how we ended up home.

I guess I was in good spirits though, as I apparently sent the following text message to my friend Peter from Brian's cell:

"Hi dallas says she lovery you and you are a favonsive."

Despite being in school for 19 years, after a bottle of wine, I am always brought back to my kindergarten level of self expression.

it might as well be spring

Maybe cheap strawberries at the grocery store mean that spring is on its way at long last!

Life on the ice planet was wearing on me. Now that I'm not yet going to be a theatre star, I have to decide what else I would like to do...or how else I am going to get there. That means it's back to the drawing board. That means I have to decide whether or not I will be staying in this city. Until yesterday, as I said, the cold was wearing on me. I was frustrated with this never-ending winter and the perpetually ice-encrusted state the streets and sidewalks.

But now, with the temperature at a comparatively balmy 4 degrees Celcius, the city is coming alive again. There is such a huge difference between Montreal in summer and winter. For those people who have only visited it during the latter's months, please come back when the sun is shining and the terraces are packed with people drinking pitchers of sangria. Spring and summer are when Montreal shines, at least in my mind.

I am almost finished the first main chapter of my thesis, with two more to be completed by the end of May. I'm fuelling my progress by biting chunks of a dark chocolate Easter bunny. Speaking of sweets, here is a delightful little blog passed on to me by my friend Jess.

In anticipation for my next apartment, I picked up a couple additions to my ever-growing tacky tea set. I found these tulip cups and saucers at a warehouse store near my cottage:


And my parents got me pink, elephant shaped cream and sugar dishes for Easter. I can't wait to decorate my next place, which will hopefully be less of a concrete box and more of a quirky home. Now if only I knew what city it will be in.

two-way mirrors

I'm not supposed to write about this, so I won't name names or places. It was too unique an experience not to at least share a piece of it. I'm back in Montreal now, but just a week ago ago, I was pacing in my hotel room in Toronto, trying to get myself and my songs in order for an audition.

I stood in a room with 99 other young sopranos, all of whom were warbling away like crazy, and I had the strange sensation of being just another songbird in a cage. Our hopes and talents were trapped together in one room for hours, and they flitted desperately around, resonating, but ultimately bouncing off the walls. It became a cacophony of competing chanteuses.

I walked onto the set after hours and hours of waiting. I looked at the two esteemed judges, I was blinded by the stage lights. I froze. I sang, but the song was trapped inside by my nerves, so the story couldn't come out.

They couldn't make up their minds about me, so they invited me back the next day, along with 23 others. We would soon be in cramped quarters together again, but on a stage instead of in a waiting room. I can't divulge any more at this point. You will have to wait for the show to air in June.

So, despite feeling deflated, I have learned a few things from this experience. From all my practicing, I have remembered how much I need to sing. I need to sing regularly, loudly, and with gusto. Which means it's back up to my secret practice space, since I don't want to drive my neighbours crazy.

The other thing I learned is that getting ready for this whole audition process breathed new life into me.  I have been so excited, nervous, thrilled, scared, and bewildered. I like how those estranged emotions feel. It feels great, and it feels like something, to not know what will happen.  To know that anything could happen. I want to feel that way more often.

***

As for the above photo, I tried something different and stood on the other side of the camera this week, while modeling for my mom. I learned most everything I know about photography from her--she is amazing. It was fun to have my picture taken by someone whose abilities I respect and trust. I will post a few more once I figure out my new computer.


Happy belated Easter, or happy spring pick-me-up, pastel-toned accessories day!

attacking the fat

Nearing the end of a long and calorie-laden winter, there are few feelings more exciting for a woman, than the the feeling of one's butt receding in size.

This coveted feeling only comes, unfortunately, from some serious spring work-outs.

My friend Karen, renaissance woman extraordinaire, is training to teach a new fitness class at Goodlife Gyms called "Body Attack." She summed it up to me as "boot camp at the Olympic athlete level." So, when she asked if I would be willing to take the class while she practiced teaching it, I decided to step up to the challenge.

Sweet moonlit night, no class I have ever taken could have prepared me for her class. Even my first spinning class, when I thought the name came from the sensation of seeing stars spin around my head as I almost fainted, did not compare to "Body Attack." We kicked, jumped, punched, ran, did many a jumping jack and more push-ups than I have ever done in the sum of my life. Karen did all the moves with ease, and wasn't even out of breath while confidently yelling out the instructions.

You know those infomercials for fitness videos and bizarre hand weights, wherein everyone has 300-esque abs and terrible tans? No one actually believe that a lame fitness dance could melt off the pounds in such a manner. I watch those infomercials to laugh at the high-cut spandex, but I have never put stock in the fact that flailing one's limbs would give results. I do classes at my gym, not because I feel I get a fantastic workout, but because I enjoy working out and it forces me to leave my desk during the day. Unless I'm doing weight training and running or swimming, I never expect dramatic changes in my body.

After Karen's class, I stand corrected. She told me that "Body Attack" really does reshape the body. She is solid proof of that. A few years ago, she decided to give the classes a try.  The workout, combined with healthier eating, helped her lose a substantial amount of weight. Now she is teaching the damn class! And this is on top of having a very intense, successful career. She is truly an inspiration to those of us who have trouble breaking our bad habits and never reaching the level of fitness to which we aspire.

Inspired by Karen,  I feel like fitness (and a more impressive derriere) is slowly becoming an attainable goal.

to get you though the cold

This recipe, from Jamie Oliver's latest cookbook, is fantastic. Perfect for a cold winter night.

If you're feeling a bit more ambitious, try making this pecan chocolate chip pie recipe. I've made it twice now, and the trick is to undercook it slightly.

Or, if you just feel like looking at pretty pictures of food, check out the food styling blog, La Tartine Gourmande (in English and French).

Oh, and I almost forgot: Rambo stuff, as promised

trust me, i'm more sick of writing about this stuff than you are of reading it

Over the usual table of teas and coffees, a few of us were discussing "big plans" post-graduation, one of my friends talked about his difficulty in deciding between moving back to familiarity in his home city, or following some career prospects in yet another bigger city. He knows that either pursuit will mean he'll be giving something up.

When he said, "It seems like the further you push yourself, the lonelier it gets," I got to thinking:

Is this the case with everyone? Will it be the case with me?

Does delving deeper into school inevitably turn a person into a weirdo? Does specializing in obscure things make you less and less able to relate to other people?

Right now, being obligated to sit, isolated, at a desk is lonely. It's not like we didn't know this was coming when we applied to do an MA. But before the warped reality that is thesis writing really started, I think I had convinced myself that all grad school required me to do was to watch a lot of movies, make fun of things and people over drinks, throw around fancy words, and read the odd book.

Yes, now is a rather lonely stage, but I take comfort in the fact that the isolation doesn't suit me. I haven't started muttering to myself, collecting cats, or getting too comfortable in my desk/cave existence. In fact, I can't wait to finish and move on to the next thing.

The worst possible scenario would be that I'm not slowly going crazy and not noticing, and then by the time I re-emerge into the world everyone will wonder what happened to me.

The best case scenario is that I finish my thesis, learn to tuck the nerdy side of me away when living my everyday life, so that I don't scare away normal people.

I look at a lot of my peers who will, like me, be wrapping things up in a few months. When I look at them I know they will get through this and be really successful professors, writers, publishers, artists, and contributing members of society. I have complete faith that a lot of them will excel, just as I know (with utter certainty) that others will continue to be condescending oddballs.

It's easy to envision what others will do, but so hard to do the same for oneself.

And, this post, from the blog Stuff White People Like, is one of the most hilarious, depressingly accurate descriptions of grad school I have ever come across. The post I just wrote is the freaking epitome of what this post describes. Shoot me now.

stormy weather

Let's get the weather out of the way first: we in Montreal (and across south-eastern Canada) have had 3 major snow storms in one week. Jennie and her boyfriend Zach got snowed in at our place last Tuesday night, and we got snowed in at their place in Ottawa this weekend. I have no memory of a winter that surpassed this one. That being said, there are ways to take advantage of such an extreme winter.

Option 1: Embrace it

Last weekend, I attended Montreal's edition of Nuit Blanche, an all-night party spread across the city's cultural venues. We started out at a giant gallery that had all kinds of lovely art, performance pieces, a free cupcake feast and cheap apricot beer. After dancing in the snow at the Old Port, watching a disco dance at Old City Hall, eating maple syrup poured on ice, dressing up and having our photos taken at a costume shop, listening to organists play horror themes at a cathedral, and passing out at the planetarium, Brian and I made it to the free breakfast at 4:30 am. I was surprised to see a lot of small children who made it through the night at hungrily ate their free breakfast. I admire their stamina.

Ariana and I, falling asleep in line for the free breakfast

I know many other cities are starting to join the Nuit Blanche tradition, keeping their museums, galleries, and other cultural spaces open all night. I think it is a fantastic idea, and it is taken up by citizens with enthusiasm. I'm not sure how similar the Toronto version of Nuit Blanche is, but if it's anything like Montreal's, I would certainly recommend it.

Another way to embrace this weather is to frolic in it. During the height of the latest storm on Saturday night, a few of us piled on some winter gear (and in my case, some scuba goggles) to play in the snow. Instead of grumbling about the storm, why not make the best of it? There's nothing to get endorphins pumping like flailing one's body into 4 feet of snow.








Option 2: Become an Indoor Activity Enthusiast

In addition to my ballet classes (which I do not enjoy, but take as some kind of self-imposed torture), I have recently started taking ballroom dancing lessons. Believe it or not, this was my dad's idea. He thought it might be good for my dancing confidence (of which I have little) and brighten up my winter life. He was right. I think I have found a new passion. Despite his penchant for silk shirts, my instructor is great. Let me tell you, busting out a Viennese waltz is one way to dance away the winter blahs.

One aspect of the lessons is a supervised practice period. At this point, the instructors lower the lights, turn on the disco ball, and start calling out dances to each successive song. I managed to learn the basics of the tango, foxtrot, swing, hustle, mambo, rumba and many more within that period. My favourite partner was 80something man who hobbled over to me to ask for a dance. Once the music started, however, he straightened up and, as if by magic, was the strongest dancer on the floor. I could not keep up with him if I tried, and believe me I was trying. If you are a hardcore Dirty Dancing fan, or just looking for a new activity, I would suggest taking a ballroom dancing class. It is surprisingly fun.

I am leaving for Toronto next Sunday. Before then, I have a heck of a lot to do. Here goes nothing!

too much and too little

A LOT has transpired over the past week. Suffice it to say I am short on time to write at the moment. But I will be back as soon as I find a minute, with stories of an all-night, city wide party, another snow storm, and my new 85-year-old dance partner.