party at the corona theatre

My first corporate photo gig was last Sunday, at the amazing Corona Theatre in St-Henri (a cute neighbourhood just south-west of downtown that we almost moved to). The staff of Chapters/Indigo/Coles rented a red carpet and velvet ropes for this old Hollywood themed party, and I got to surprise people, paparazzi-style, as they entered. I also got to try out my new flash, along with the coolest invention ever.

I collaborated with the tech guy throughout the night, and uploaded my photos several times during the party. They were then projected onto a giant screen at the front of the theatre as a form of decor and entertainment. It was kind of scary, having all my photos immediately displayed without time for any editing, but the reaction was very positive. After the first sequence of photos went up, even the wallflowers were parading in front of me, asking me to take their photos next. A good sign, I think.

Dressed formally myself, and taking full advantage of the chocolate fountain, I in no way felt like I was working. I just freaking love photography. Schmoozing and working with strangers, capturing fun and awkward moments alike, and giving them a final product that makes them happy—that's what it's all about for me.

And, since I opted to be paid by gift certificate, I now have a sizable sum of money to spend, guilt-free, on books!

Some fun photos from the night:

lovely lovely

Last night, I lugged a still-warm rhubarb crisp over to my friend Mark's house. I thought I was just going over for a quiet dinner, but when I walked into his apartment, almost all of my favourite people in Montreal were there yelling "surprise!"

I was genuinely shocked, and really touched. I have met some great people in this city. The rest of the evening was spent eating all the amazing food that people brought, and chatting over all sorts of booze.

Then today, after weeks of combing Craigslist and Kijiji ads, we finally found our new apartment. And it is fantastic. With etched glass french doors, pillars with angel face moulding, beautiful hardwood floors, two balconies, and a big kitchen, it is definitely a place I look forward to calling home.

Now that I know where I will be living, and have been reminded once again of the awesome friends I have made here, facing all the other unknown factors doesn't seem as scary.

(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.

sweet naïveté

I suppose I've reached the point in my life where I have to start networking.

Less than a year from now, I will hopefully embarking on a career of some kind, so I guess I should start planning for that...well, right about now.

The other night, a friend of mine invited me to be his date for a film festival meet and greet he was attending. Despite him being well into the indie film scene, we had no idea what to expect from this party. What we found was a crowded, mahogany-paneled room full of people who were much more dressed up than we were, trays full of hors d'oeuvres that I could not identify (I accidentally ate foie gras thinking it was tofu)and lots of name-dropping that I sure couldn't keep up with.

At one point, I was asking an British man which film he had directed. He told me the name and I said,
"Cool title."
"You don't have to say that," he replied.
"Say what, that I like the film title?"
"Yes, you're too polite."
"Okay, well, I do like it. Can you tell me about your film?"
"Sure," at this point is is laughing at me.
"What's so funny?"
"You don't mean to tell me you actually want to hear about my film, do you?"
"Yes, that's why I asked."
"Oh. It's just that when most people ask about your film at events like this, they don't really want to hear about it."
"I guess I missed the memo."

I totally missed the memo. The one that informs naive young party-goers, "being genuinely curious will make you seem like a crackpot."

My friend, on the other hand, having attended countless parties such as this one at various film festivals, is quickly becoming a networking pro. He even inadvertently landed an invitation to be hosted by a huge media exec the next time he's in Toronto. She took out her wallet, handed him her pearlized card. She looked over at me, smirked slightly, and put her wallet away. She has been networking so long she knows to save her cards for bonafide networkers, not waste them on the tag-alongs who are busy sucking back the unlimited free wine and trying not to fall over in the stilettos they never wear except for fancy events.

So, in short, in the near future I either have to start really networking, or at least learn how to look like I'm trying. Sigh.

when cougars attack

Saturday night called for yet another theme party. With "Pirates!" out of the way, naturally "Cougars and Weekend Dads" was the next logical step in terms of themes. Inspired by the ladies and gentlemen of Montreal's Crescent St (and especially those patrons of Thursday's and the Hotel de la Montagne rooftop pool bar) I present to you the men and women of cougar night.

White Eyeshadow and Chain Belt cougar

Leopard Shirt/Peggy Bundy Hair/Red Lips Cougar

Leopard Tights Cougar

Weekend Dad

Fake Tan/Visible Lipliner/70s Cougar (photo by Jessica Antony)

Cougar Bait with Leopard Tights Cougar

The Cougars pose with an unsuspecting, passed-out cougar

What theme will we think of next? Stay tuned.

checks and balances

Welcome to springtime in Canada, folks, where the weather makes people act like fools. Earlier this week we had a blizzard, and last night was warm enough to wear a skirt.

Last night I took a break from my essay writing marathon to attend a Luau party. It was a much needed break. Everything was going well until a mix of lychee martinis and rum-marinated fruit made me really cocky about my gymnastic skills:


As you might be able to tell from the awkward facial expression, things did not end up as gracefully as I thought they would. In fact, I pulled my back out in the middle of a crowded room and had to do various yoga positions for 20 minutes in order to be able to stand up.

Am I an old lady, or has my sedentary lifestyle of typing on computers all day finally had an affect on my party skills? I should point out that this is not the first gymnastics/party related injury I've had. Last Christmas I did a high kick while wearing tights on a linoleum floor, and ended up with a bruised tailbone. In high school I did a one-arm cartwheel on asphalt and lost my balance while upside-down. You think a girl could take a hint, but I guess not.

Anyways, I feel like a dirtbag sitting here, eating chocolate in my pajamas at almost 3 in the afternoon when I have an essay to finish. I'll return when I'm finally finished.

goodness gracious

You know you've arrived at a crazy party when:

1) Your friends start getting tackled by random girls in metallic underwear

2) Beds and couches are sprinkled with rose petals

3) There is a wall covered in pylons that are filled with candy

4) You spend half the night handing out slices of gourmet cheeses to other guests

5) The walls are plastered in risque photos

6) Your boyfriend ends up in a torn, wine-stained undershirt

7) The host tells you he found grafitti written with butter on his bathroom walls

8) You narrowly missed a whipped cream fight

9) The shooter boy is wearing fishnet thigh-highs

10) The party's theme is "nearly nude"

green daze

After a week of snow, melting slush, street fires, smashed windows, and humiliating myself in class among other such events, a weekend-long St. Patrick's day celebration was certainly welcomed. Saturday/Sunday stood as the last couple of freedom-filled days before delving into all the year end madness. How is the school year already coming to an end? Seriously, what have I been doing?

Alas, St. Patrick's day was spent sipping creme de menthe with Bailey's on the rocks, and drinking convenience store beer on the streets in the snowy weather, while waiting in line at the crowded pubs, playing my Irish tin whistle for adoring fans, and bashing my knee into a parking metre while jumping to grab icicles. Sunday we dragged ourselves out to watch Montreal's famous St. Patrick's Day parade to marching bands, giant St Pats on wheels, dogs dressed in costumes, and for me to have my foot essentially puked on by a small child.

After the parade, we had some guests over, and I cooked a large "Irish" brunch of soda bread, cooked cabbage, scrambled eggs with brie, breakfast sausages, and shamrock shakes. I was full for the entire day after that spread, let me tell you.

I find it kind of ironic that my academic research entails the use of blogs for sharing human rights and world health issues, and here I am detailing my Sunday menu to you. That's something I gotta work on--you know, not being a giant hypocrite. But life is about balance, isn't it? My brain is full of school stuff by the time I come to write here, so all I have left to share is a mundane collection of thoughts and events. But that's going to change over time.

Also, it's driving me crazy that all of the funniest, juiciest things I want to share don't seem appropriate for such a public realm. You know, the best stuff that spills out like beer on a bar table (or due to it), or the legion of characters I've been meeting. However, rest assured that a tell-all book is on the way. Those of you who might think grad school is only about dusty books might be interested to hear the tales I've been observing, experiencing and collecting. I'll find a way to share, somehow.

Right now the promise of spring temperatures have me hoping wistfully that the rest of the week will seem less dismal.

we dream beneath ceilings

In my old basement room, I always tried to bring a little incandescent starshine in to brighten up the gloom. On lazy nights in, or in a post-bar haze, I would lie in bed and look up at the lights to relax.

I guess it was the closest thing to stretching out on the deck, or the top of the big hill at my cottage, wrapped up in sleeping bags during shooting star season, trying feebly to name constellations.

I miss the wide expanses of the countryside. But tonight's activities will tide over those longings for a while, hopefully. Tonight is Nuit Blanche (aka "The All-Nighter) across all of Montreal. All the spaces that are usually closed (especially during the wee hours of the morning) are open tonight. Art galleries, theatres, rooftop hotel pools. I can't wait. I am especially excited for the planetarium show on this eve of the lunar eclipse.

Details after tonight.

For last night's photos from the opening night party of Art Matters click here.