I keep my pencils in a shot glass

It’s pretty well known that SFU has one of the most attractive student bodies in North America, especially when the international students get factored in. Luckily for me, I get to work weekends, which means the international students make up a large percentage of human life left on campus: the attractiveness ratio hits the roof and keeps rocketing upwards. At least six different accents an hour, guys. My heartbeats.

Batting eyelashes aside, one such student happens to be in one of my classes. I’m pretty certain she’s the cutest thing I’ve seen in ever. Between her affinity for Starbucks and my crazy work schedule, I get to see her lots. Not nearly enough, but lots. Here’s a drawing of her, because it’s way more fun to sketch when the subject’s that charming.

am I right, guys?

am I right, guys?

I rest my case.

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I need to start this caboose back up!

You ever get that feel where all you want to do is just…run away for a bit, catch up on listening to music, making things, sleeping, and just sort of…talking to yourself? I’ve been too busy lately. I feel like I’m not really up to speed with myself, if that makes sense. But anyways, updates:

Working at Starbucks is like drinking the proverbial cup of cult-ish corporate blood, but is fun if you tune out the “Starbucks is God” mantra. I don’t get bothered by the Armageddon of students slavering at the thought of sugar-jacked espresso and milk, because it doesn’t matter. They’ll get their drinks, eventually, and I’ll go home, eventually, and then I’ll get to sleep, or procrastinate from homework, or whatever. It’s all chill, man. Anyways. That’s that.

Writing class: I honestly thought I’d be putting everything I wrote up here, because it’s loads better than what I usually post, but after getting critiques from classmates and teachers all I want to do is rework it over and over again until it’s perfect before I let it see the light of the internet. So hence the poetry dry spell. It’s good, though–the class, I mean. Makes me feel like I’ve found my people, yo.

A quick shout-out to the Peak Performance Project artists: you should check them all out HERE. I voted for Good for Grapes, but it was a tough go between them, Hannah Epperson, Van Damsel, Luca Fogale…man, there’s just some really stellar music coming out of this thing this year, and you should go immerse yourself in it (totally too late to vote now, I’m sorry, but on Tuesday they’re announcing the top 5 bands! This is exciting stuff).

One more thing: I’ve been semi-dared to do a series on flirting and seduction for NaBloPoMo (National Blog Post Month, where one posts every day—oh god) by the super-suave Scott over at In Spite of That, with the assurance that he’s going to do a series on trying one new hobby each day in November (and blogging about it). I’ve already failed one day, but I will post TWICE today to make up for it.

Last thing: I love you all, you beautiful blogger people you.

halloween haiku + ramble

masquerades and rain
pumpkin beer, seeds, and lanterns
hurrah hurrah yay

I adore Halloween and to make sure I get the absolute most out of costumes this year I’ll be attending VCon (pirate-themed, yes please) and Steamcon (hopefully). Pumpkin beer is hitting the shelves (Howe Sound Brewery, mais oui), the rain is thundering outside (thank you Vancouver), and it’s just about time to break out the box of onesie pajamas.

I love summer, but man, autumn is my jam.

Complaints of a Committed Woman

[EDIT: I should have clarified this further before publishing this article. When in situations/settings where looking for romantic partners is expected (bars, clubs, etc.) I’m quite up front about my state of availability and/or interest, because I certainly don’t want to waste anyone’s time who’s trying to get lucky. It’s more benign settings such as school, or work, that I find this to be a difficult situation. ]

I don’t initially tell people that I’m in a committed relationship, especially men. This is in part because it’s not always the first thing that comes up when I talk to people, and in part because I’d like to actually talk to people without them worrying that my partner will come rampaging out of the bushes to beat them up.

Point: I’m a young adult, but I am an autonomous adult, who has value whether or not I’m in a relationship.

Unfortunately, in my experience, this isn’t always the first thing on peoples’ minds when talking to me. And no, I’m not complaining about people mistaking my status for single and attempting to ask me out: I’m flattered when that happens. What disappoints me is the silence I get when I mention my partner in passing, or when (if I don’t catch it soon enough) I have to clarify the situation. It’s like people saying “well, you’re off the market, why would I bother talking to you?”

Let’s take a look at that saying, “off the market”. First off, I’m not a piece of livestock. Back to the point above, I have value in my individual personality regardless of whether I’m “available” or not. And I’m an optimistic person, most of the time. Chances are, I think that you have value regardless of your relationship status.

In all likelihood, if I’ve engaged you in conversation in the first place, I think you’re an interesting person. I think you’re someone who I’d like to get to know better, because I adore being surrounded by fascinating, fun people. I’m lucky enough to have many amazing friends who bring all kinds of wonderful depth into my life, and this exchange of ideas and experiences is what makes the courtship of friends worth it. All those awkward first text messages, facebook interactions, invitations, the dance is all worth it if a connection of value grows.

Let’s take a look at that term now, a “connection of value”. I made that up, but I like it. For me, that means that in knowing each other, we mutually benefit from sharing viewpoints, stories, recommendations, advice, laughter, all these really neat things that we wouldn’t have if we hadn’t met. “Friendship” is an overused term, in these situations. It’s loaded. “Friendship” calls to mind the dreaded (and repeatedly disproven) “friend-zone”. So yes, I’ll call you my friend, because it’s an easy label, and nobody wants to be a personified “connection”. If anyone has a better term than “friend”, let me know. “This guy I know”? Agh.

Point is, when I refrain from saying I’m in a relationship, it’s not because I want to “lead people on”. That’s the furthest thing from my mind. I believe that my relationship status is not the entirety of my being, and I appreciate it when other people think the same thing.

friendship

Kind of related?

What do you think? Comments are appreciated, I’d really like to know.

I’m popular, guys!

Hello Ladles and Gentleforks!

Thanks to you all, but especially one Lindsey over at LindseyKnows, I have one hundred and fifty followers on WordPress! Thank you, thank you, I’m really tickled pink. Only 9 months in the blogosphere, just like having a baby. Well. I mean, the average gestation of a regular human baby is nine months, so…

You get it. I love you. Thanks.

Image

I’m seriously into stamping and also bow ties

No guys, seriously. STAMPING. I ran into Deserres the other day and sort of barked “stamp…making things! Where?”

The counter guys didn’t seem phased, just pointed me in the right direction and I wandered into a whole new world. I bought Speedycut lino blocks, and fabric paint, and a lino cutter set, and then immediately set to work on projects.

This translates into me ripping off the packaging of all my new things and sort of staring at them, asking them (telepathically) “how do you work and how”. It’s a process. Eventually I just picked up the pointy things and made a huge mess. The second try was better. Loads better. I’ve now made three stamps and they’re all beautiful (this is subjective, because I’m biased).

Taking it to the next level: stamping self-drafted pattern pieces with self-carved stamps….how did it come to this. How.

So of course, I can’t just stamp normal things. I have to stamp, like, really complicated things. It was my dad’s birthday a few weeks ago, and he’d been complaining that I keep making bow ties for other people, but not for him. My dad, he does not wear bow ties. Ever. If he must wear a tie, he wears his bright red tie with spinnakers all over it (colourful sails for sailboats). He’s a sailing man, so I figured this would be an appropriate rival for the spinnaker tie.

Light, navy cotton with swiss dots is pretty sweet for bow ties in general, but turns out stamping little white sailboats all over the fabric after cutting out the pieces was the best idea. The fabric paint cured after five minutes under the iron, and then I was away to the races! Sewed it all up, and here’s the finished product:

Ta-da! Birthday present for father. He was pleased.

Ta-da! Self-tied bow tie for father. He was pleased. (Disclaimer: this is so not my dad in the photo. This is me.)

I’m really excited. I plan on stamping everything. Y’all better watch out. Nothing is sacred.

addict

without it I become a puppet
without a puppeteer.
I am a fixture among thousands
walking mindless towards—
but in recent days
the strings seem too brittle to hold
my head up, my neck straight
(never mind my arms, my legs)
I am a little past diminished than
is usual
even four cups in.