photoshop for beginners

At the risk of sounding like a mom who's put her kid's artwork on the fridge, I'm about to share my homework with you.

A few months ago, I started taking a Photoshop class. Despite using the program for over 8 years, I have never really learned how to use it properly. I've taught myself a lot over time, but have focused only on developing techniques for lightly retouching portraits. As I'm taking on a higher volume of work, I decided it was time to learn to do things the right way and, hopefully, more quickly.

Within an hour of the first class, I mentally kicked myself for not signing up years ago. I was using the most roundabout, inefficient techniques to do things that could have taken just moments. I have been underusing and misusing Photoshop for years! Rather than cry over wasted time, I embraced the course and all it could offer. I just finished level 2 (of 10) and our final assignment was to make a collage using a collection of our own photos while incorporating some elements of magic, mystery or fantasy.

Here's what I'm handing in tomorrow:

And here are the photos it comprises:

To all you Photoshop wizards out there, have mercy on me. I am definitely a novice. But wow, I am so in love with this program now. How did it take me so long to discover its awesomeness? I feel like I just noticed the boy next door was cute once he took off his glasses, or just tasted wine for the first time or something. I'm late to the party, clearly. Level 3 starts in January. I can't wait to learn more!

le premier jour

As I bit into my crisp, red apple, the taste that filled my mouth was one of familiarity, nostalgia, and tradition. Every September, returning to school just as the harvest was kicking in. Every September, walking a well-known route to a well-known building. Every September, having a rough idea of what to expect.

The reassuring act of eating an apple as I walked to class masked a lot of things: uncertainty, fear, even exhilaration. The repetition momentarily fooled me into thinking things were the same as they have been for the past 19 years.

"Are you sad you're not coming with me today?" Brian asked yesterday, as he headed downtown for his first Ph.D class.

"Nope!" I replied, without a second's hesitation.

"Oh," he said, sounding slightly disappointed. "It's just that this is the first class we haven't gone to together in a long time."

"I know, but I am okay with that. You know that this is what you want to do, and that you want to go back to school. I know I want to do something different."

In the sweltering heat, three floors up in an old school building, I was conjugating verbs this morning. The room was packed: Me, one other Canadian anglophone, and about 20 immigrants from many different countries. We're all trying to improve our French, which is a struggle in itself. Then there's the added layer of thick accents from around the world. I have no clue as to what many of my classmates are saying in their accented French, and I doubt they can understand me. In the meantime, we all smile and nod awkwardly.

I was starting to feel faint in the heat, and putting my head down, when I felt something ice cold touch my cheek. The Iranian lady who sat next to me looked at me sympathetically and pressed a cold can of orange juice to my forehead. I smiled gratefully and glanced at her desk for the first time. She had an apple too.

c'est finit

And just like that, it's over. As of Thursday afternoon (short of completing some paperwork) I have now completed my Masters in Media Studies. The experience of the thesis defense was pretty intense, I have to say. Handing my work to three brilliant women who subsequently commented on, critiqued, and questioned it made me feel very vulnerable. Their feedback was certainly challenging, and of course got me thinking about all the things I could have done differently. But a thesis entails a process of dealing with scope, and learning how to narrow down your topic to exclude a million possible ideas, while including only a few.

I do not find it easy to focus on any one thing for a long period of time; I am happiest and most satisfied when juggling a selection of things. So when I decided to do a master's degree, it was mostly because I wanted to test myself, to see if I was actually capable of working on one big thing for a period of time.

I avoided involving myself in too many other activities here in Montreal, and put a lot of my hobbies on the back burner, in order to commit myself to this exercise in focus. All in all, my lifestyle for the last two years has predominantly had two facets: booze and books (a conversation and realization about which inspired the title of Jessica's blog). In other words, I've either been reading and writing, or enjoying the fruits of Montreal's incredible nightlife (okay, and day life. You try resisting sangria on a terrace when the afternoon breezes float down St. Laurent).

And now, I am so ready for my life to expand beyond these horizons. Some thrive in the grad school situation. I did not. While I enjoyed the overall experience, was stimulated by the work, love the friends I have shared the ups and downs of the program with, and am proud of my final product, I found that it was time for me to leave academia — at least for now. I need to get out of my apartment, and away from my desk, and into something a little more interactive (and, you know, financially lucrative) at this point in my life.

In stark contrast to the heady task of finishing my thesis, I've spent the last few days eating peaches while watching season one of Gossip Girl on my computer, saying a reluctant goodbye to Peter as he departs for Toronto, dancing til the wee hours at a 50s party, and eating at a crazy amazing Italian restaurant with Brian's family, and finally cleaning our apartment that has been full of visitors for the last two weeks.

Now I am ready to enjoy the holiday Monday, before "school" starts again: full-time French classes for me (+ the ongoing job hunt), and the small task of a Ph.D program for Brian. Sweet mercy.

a relevant snippet

From Chapter Two:Blogalization

...The online environment, with its inherent sense of detachment, has a disinhibiting effect on people. According to Flora, “electronic disclosure eliminates the normal self-censorship mechanisms that have evolved over human history” (Ibid 85). At a deeper level, the diary type blog allows an individual to celebrate and broadcast his or her individual adventures, and even their more banal aspects of daily life.

This process of sharing turns an ordinary person’s life into a published story, and allows the individual to feel like “something more than an anonymous drone in a technological and impersonal world” (Flora 85). By reading others’ public diaries, bloggers can reflect on the subjects at hand, and learn more about themselves in the process. If not always objective or truthful, public diary blogs represent what Blood terms “an unprecedented opportunity for individual expression on a worldwide scale” (Blood).

What is more, for all his criticism of blogs, even Keren admits that studying blogs is a critical step in the rethinking of the public/private divide, that was “traditionally affected by an abstract notion of the individual, and lack of means to penetrate his or her private sphere or lack of incentive to do so because it was considered irrelevant” (Keren 11). A critical look at blogs and blogging practice brings a discussion of the individual into the realm of public discourse...

Tomorrow I defend my thesis.

So often I am waiting for something, anything, to happen. There are always lulls, and then everything happens at once. My mixed emotions are like opposing weather systems, warm and balmy confronted by cold and dark. When the storm hits the calm, I feel like this.

On Tuesday, most of the news arrived by phone. I woke up to hear my oldest friend (the one who recently got engaged) tell me that her father had suddenly passed away. Just like that, while taking a nap at their cottage.

After hanging up the phone, it rang again, this time with a job interview for me.

It rang again shortly thereafter, when the head of Brian's Ph.D program called to tell him the department has a substantial amount of additional funding to offer him.

The phone rang once more, when the people buying some of my furniture called to tell me when they were coming to pick it up.

This same day, Brian, Peter and I met up at the printing shop and—almost $40 in photocopying later—all handed in our completed theses to the graduate studies office, and to our supervisors and readers.

And now, with half our furniture gone and an apartment half full of boxes, I am heading home for a funeral, only to return just in time for an inevitably hectic moving day. I will be back once the storm of everything passes.

!!!

Today I finished the final draft of my thesis. I would write, but I've got some celebrating to do!

hiatus for one more day

The final draft of my thesis, as I may have mentioned a million times, is due soon (as in July 1st), so I will be going into isolation mode to take care of that business. When I return, I have a whole new crop of pictures to share. Portraits, proms, and pride are among the photo themes. In the meantime, a preview:

beach vs. thesis

I'm up in the country for a few more hours, alternating between doing work, and giving in to my brothers' insistence that I head to the beach with them. I can live with these tough decisions.

onward!

I'm currently in the process of selling most of my furniture via Craigslist. I'm hoping this will make for an easier (lighter!) move, and give me some breathing room for new design ideas. Even though I am moving to an apartment in the same city, I am looking at the move as a fresh start.

My present apartment has an unbeatable view and central location, but the beige cement walls often feel oppressive. It may sound crazy, but I really believe that living in a high rise has got to have some kind of squishing effect on the psyche. A three-storey walk-up will be a welcome change.

I'm also looking forward to a fresh start after these relatively isolated 2 years of grad school. Sometimes I think the main reason I chose to do my masters was as an exercise in self-discipline — a way to force myself to focus. Now I'm getting that restless feeling we all get when we feel we've gotten the gist of the lesson, and it's time to move on.

So I've been idealizing the move as this big turning point, when my life will suddenly become exciting again.

Each step in life has its own perks and pitfalls, I suppose. This pros now are the incredibly flexible schedule, and self-indulgent writing sessions. The main con would be the isolation this kind of writing necessitates.

So, inspired by a comment I've received on this blog, I am going to go with the flow and write short, frequent entries about my day-to-day progress, rather than waiting until something "big" happens to blog about it. If I'm honest with myself, and with you, I will write what I feel and what I truly believe. Then this blog can change as my life actually does.

I think reading and writing SO much about blogging FOR my thesis has made me feel a little zany and, I think, has had a negative effect on this blog. Studying aspects such as privacy and readership has made me extra cautious about what kind of info I share, especially (to be brutally honest) given the amount of strange people I have met, and who might very well read this blog. But to be a great writer, you have to take risks. It feels like a risk for me to keep writing here, and sharing myself when I feel the compulsion to shy away.

So I am going to suck it up, and keep writing.

working weeks and weekends

I'm working on the final draft of my thesis, which is due on July first. My posting may be inconsistent over the next while. Or, if I continue to procrastinate as well as I usually do, I will post at every available opportunity.

The Euro Cup is actually helping my progress. I pretend that the screams and wails of jubilant fans outside my window are directed at me and my epic quest to finish this freaking thesis.

surfacing

...aaaaand I'm back. Wow, that last post was terrifying. My steady descent into thesis-induced insanity (which Brian has commented on several times when he's caught me pacing or jumping up and down) was really obvious, even in my writing.

Anyway, the first draft of my last (loooonnng) chapter was handed in last night. I've spent the last month researching, tabulating, filling in spreadsheets, cutting and pasting quotes, synthesizing, writing and editing this chapter—my own original research. It was strenuous, but I am pleased with the final product, even if it's only a first draft. I have to get the introduction and conclusion done, and of course edit the whole whopping thing several times, but that shouldn't be so bad.

In my mind, the worst is over now.

below the surface

Writing, over the last few months, has felt a lot like swimming. I am using all of my energy to make it through the water, only taking the occasional breath. The last few days of every chapter has felt like diving to the bottom of a deep pool, swimming to the top, taking a huge breath, and diving under again.

While I've been writing (and finishing another chapter!), so much other stuff has been happening too. I need some time to actually talk to people about things, before posting on here. Especially since lately, I have become more careful about what I'm sharing and with whom. I have always been a very open person, but lately it's been catching up with me.

If my friends mainly learn about the state of my life through things I've posted online, that doesn't seem right. Out of respect for them, I want to keep some news for certain ears only.

But I'll be back, with new photo shoots and big plans to show and tell.

it brings out the crazy in me

I have tried all sorts of incentives and bribes. I try depriving myself of food until it's done. I try drinking a litre of water and then telling myself I can't pee until it's done. I try turning off my wireless adapter and cutting off my beloved internet connection until it's done.

None of this has worked. Dizzying hunger, my bladder, and my insatiable need to read about anything online always puts a damn wrench in my plans.

But finally, after months of procrastination and 4 days of solid, honest work, it's done. Weighing in at a sizeable 32 pages, chapter one of my thesis has been submitted to my supervisor. Seeing as I can now barely speak in proper sentences after shoving that many words onto paper, I shudder to think how strange I will feel when the whole shebang is done. My whole vocabulary (including key words that communication profs love such as "pervasive" and "ubiquitous") went onto those pages. I've got nothing left!

Last night, quitting at midnight, I decided to relax by making rice pudding (see above). Simmering milk during the wee hours and then eating the whole yield in one sitting is enough to make a lady feel crazy. It suited me just fine.

Another key distraction has been this book, for which I had to venture into the Teen Fiction department of the bookstore and endure a smirk from the employee who directed me there. Rozzie has warned me that I may develop a "book crush" on the fictional vampire in the story. As reading and writing are now my full-time "job," stories and words are steadily melding with my reality. A book crush at this point would not surprise me at all. In fact, I would welcome it.

Sorry, Brian.

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.

lessons in deception

While signing a sizeable stack of books out at the library today, I was chatting with the elderly man who worked at the circulation desk.

"Isn't it a little early in the semester to be taking out this many books? You must be a hard worker. Or," he added, "you have discovered the art of making it look like you're working hard. A big pile of books can get people off your back, you know."

"Interesting," I replied, "tell me more."

"Well take me for example. I have wasted a lot of time daydreaming or doing nothing at work during my life. The trick is to use props. I can wander around for half an hour, as long as I am carrying a pen, a piece of paper or better yet, both."

"I'm pretty good at procrastinating, but not great at hiding it," I said.

"Well, get good at at least looking like you're working hard. That is the stuff they should be teaching you in school. That is the stuff that gives you time to have fun in life," he said, eyes twinkling.

I thanked him for the tip as he handed me my receipt. Walking away, I was thankful he didn't notice (or at least didn't mention) that half of my big pile of books consisted of audition guides for actors. Maybe I'm better at this than I thought?

lost in the mist

The past few days have been shrouded in a thick mist. It's one of those cases where the weather matches one's mental state. This is the week where I have to train myself to work independently, without the obligation of classes. Forcing myself to sit at my desk and work is not easy, especially with distractions aplenty online. Oh Youtube instructional makeup videos and Lost missing pieces, why do you tempt me so?

on hold

More photos on the way...just as soon as I finish this last paper.

passion versus reason

Things would be a lot easier if I were one of those people who, from the moment I was born, had one passion. I wish that my love of Lego had led me to be an architect, or that my love of making mud pies had led me to a career as a pastry chef. I am so baffled and in awe of people whose lives seem to follow that kind of path. The math nerds who become accountants, the athletes who become, well, athletes. Those who love something (one thing), who can't see themselves doing anything else, have a path to follow. They know what they love, what they are naturally good at, and what they can't imagine themselves not doing. What is that for you?

For me? I don't have one thing. I enjoy school (I better damn well enjoy school seeing as I'm in the equivalent of grade 19), but I also desperately love music and performance. I have a lot of hobbies, which--as my family and former roommates can testify--results in having a lot of stuff. I love my hobbies and stuff so much that I am literally and figuratively buried by them.

My room is piled with makeup, clothes, photography equipment, sheet music, musical instruments, books, and art supplies. My brain is so full of ideas and things that I just have to try, just have to learn, just have to do, that my day-to-day brain functions are cluttered. It is hard to operate this way. I can't do school readings without stopping to jot down song lyrics. I can't work on a paper without stopping to look up fancy cameras online. It's a pretty ridiculous way to operate, really.

The very idea that I am doing a masters of anything is almost laughable considering my lifelong inability to focus on any one thing.

Just today I found an ad in the paper for open auditions for an upcoming Mirvish production of The Sound of Music. I fit the description of the casting call exactly. I ripped out the notice, rented the movie and began to prepare for the audition before stopping to remind myself, "You know, you're still a full-time student for the next 8 months or so. You will lose your scholarship if you don't finish your degree in two years. Also, you live in Montreal while the production is in Toronto."

Oh right. That.

My passionate instincts are constantly at war with the more reasonable, nerd parts of my brain. Now you see why my blog has the name it does.

Also, while I was doing vocal warm ups to begin to rehearse my audition song, my earnest singing was brought to an abrupt halt when I heard the guy who lives above me yell, "SHUT UP!" at the top of his lungs. I felt like the princess in the new Disney film, Enchanted, whose innocent singing is greeted only by scorn from hardened New Yorkers. Ouch.

Has my polyamorous nature set me up for a fate where I try to do everything and end up doing nothing? If I continue trying to be a jack of so many trades, will I ever finish my master's?

this is what a nerd looks like

With a "work" schedule that usually consists of reading, typing, class and yoga, I don't usually have much occasion to dress up during the day. This weekend, participating in my first professional academic conference afforded me such an occasion.

It was cool to be immersed in an academic environment, to get away from my own studies and hear other people talk about their research. It was also a lot of fun to have drinks and celebrate with other folks involved in the conference, especially Chris, who got me involved in the first place.

The conference arrived at a weird time for me, just a few weeks after I had decided to take some time off from school. Instead of applying to do a PhD (which I very well may end up doing eventually) I have decided to step off the academic ladder for a while and see where I end up.

I've applied for a government job. I would also like to work at a bookstore, or a makeup store, or certainly at any kind of journalistic outlet that will take me. I hate thinking and planning this far in advance, but since my thesis has a deadline (August) and my home has an expiry date (lease ends in July) I suppose the time is arriving to think about the future. Just as the tick-tocking crocodile haunted Captain Hook, so do the ticking of time and the necessity of decision-making haunt me with each passing day.

The best way I can explain my decision to take a break is to use yet another cheesy time metaphor. My hourglass of intellectual inspiration is threatening to run out by the time I finish my MA. I need some time to recharge myself in public life, so that I will be able to flip it over again and get the school-related parts of my brain flowing again.

no move so fast

An elderly eastern-European lady slowly pushes her walker and its basket full of groceries down the ramp out of the grocery store. A woman in her mid-twenties who is rushing into the store bumps the lady and nearly knocks over her groceries.

"I am so sorry, Ma'am," says the girl, "I really didn't mean to do that. I lost my balance."

The older lady just laughs and says, "Oh you don't worry. You vill get in there in time. You no move so fast to get there. Belief me, you vill be there before you know!"
-----





Homecoming weekend approached, was awesome, and passed in the blink of an eye, as did the year in between this weekend and the last time I went "home" to Western. Peoples' haircuts are different or exactly the same, peoples' careers are starting or are eluding them, and peoples' flip-cup skills are still up to par.

Whatever people may say about Western, it certainly has fostered a sense of community that endures far beyond graduation day.