wailingblend

.the buck stops here

2008-01-15T23:49:00.001-08:00

you can now find Shannon at http://wailingblend.livejournal.com/ ... Trust me, it's for the best. Better photo posts, sleeker layout, happier me, and therefore more frequent posts. I mean, check it, it's cool.

. I dreaded those locks.

2007-12-13T03:17:00.000-08:00

I just spent 11 hours on a dude's dreads. The sad part is, they're not that fantabulous - our equipment/my experience prevented him from having a beautiful set of tight, maintenance simple dreads. I mean, he's not ruined, he can have good dreads, he'll just need to work hard. He also hasn't quite grasped that dreads = high maintenance hair. That will, as in all cases, either sink in very quickly or lead to some ugly locks.

Turns out being a hippie doesn't qualify me as a hairstylist.
Plan b: professional floral gunstuffer.

. my glass half-overflows.

2007-12-09T19:45:00.000-08:00

A slight damper in the works of gallery shows, friends.

I had my first major meeting about the whole gladstone shebang- turns out that the group accountant is a raging pessimist. She spent most of the meeting solemn-faced, and insistently panicked about everything that could go wrong. I spent most of the meeting expressing my confidence in the quality of the group's work, my faith that all deadlines would be met, and that all pressing questions concerning the gallery and thematics surrounding the photographs would be answered in the fullness of time. I'm pretty sure she didn't believe me, much as I tried to get her to be happy about the whole thing.

Since I'm kind of ( eep) slipping into a leadership role, I refuse to be one of those miserable planners that drenches every step with worry. Not I! Who's kidding who? Every adventure is but one mis-step from disaster. Acknowledge it, put your faith in Jesus, get over yourself, and move on.

So there. Ima stoically stick to my optimistic guns.

.It's like we're real artists or something

2007-12-05T00:36:00.000-08:00

So, Background: Contact is Canada's largest photography festival. Every May, close to a million people descend on Toronto to visit the 200 formal and informal venues that display the work of over 500 artists, ranging from the super famous to obscure emerging artists. Though the venues can be as small as tiny street corner booths, there are twenty five "hubs" - major exhibitions by key artists in key locations, heavily visited by art dealers, tourists, and professionals.
Most galleries in Toronto are booked for it eleven months in advance, and the hubs are for people like Edward Burtynsky, Nan Goldin, and retrospectives on artists like Avedon.
But my friends and I decided to give it a try. One of the "hubs" had a juried call for exhibitors. Long shot at best. And kind of compounded by the fact that I wrote up our proposal about a half hour before the deadline. It was the first formal proposal I had ever written. The group kind of forgot about it - we were against dozens of established artists and collectives with a lot more experience. We've been dejectedly looking for plan Bs, and had almost given up on CONTACT, since all the galleries are booked solid.

We got it. A full month in the Gladstone Hotel, with our own gallery, promotions, crazy assed opening, in one of the best locations in Toronto.

Holy CRAP.

*note to Chris: this pic of you was one of the 4 images that got us in - thanks for being in front of my lens. You rock.

.Eleanor Winters was a babe

2007-11-29T14:57:00.000-08:00

Some good news to brighten up cold days:
1) I was given a lightly used, rather high quality mp3 tape recorder. I mean, it has a wee built-in mic and it doesn't even have to plug into the wall. I'm going to stuff it down my shirt and record strangers on the Tee-Tee-Cee.
2) Positive meeting with a fiery prof of mine today. She said lots of good things - and my ego needed the boost. Then she bought me a doughnut.
3) Best of all, I've been granted a solo show in the Eleanor Winters Art Gallery, February 11th to 16th. It's going to be expensive, and glorious. All stops will be pulled - and every Thom, Dick and Harry will be invited to the opening reception. There will be booze, glory, and art, sweet art. It's a small gallery, but if I work the space, it'll be well received. Anyone want to help me do receipt rubber cementing over the break?

. Off work at five

2007-11-25T02:05:00.001-08:00

hurrah! Tomorrow I go to my aunt terry's to be fed. Free food, watching the Colbert report, and talking with a human being who isn't stressed about exams. (I'm betting you don't qualify under that heading).

Sounds like a sunday to me!

.to drive one to drink

2007-11-13T19:35:00.000-08:00

aw gee. work's not going so well at the Absinthe pub. I forgot to restock pitas and tortillas, and also to make extra garlic bread on saturday night.

I got called into my boss' office this morning, was told I was taking advantage of the place, was dicking around, talking to my friends too much, and was generally not up to par. I was told to clean up my act or else. I did the head nodding thing, and throughout the whole session felt gradually worse and worse physically.

I went into the kitchen afterward, my hands shaking like leaves. I got tunnel vision, thought, "oh. no," and promptly fainted. CRAP.

.ween!

2007-10-27T13:39:00.000-07:00

Yay!
The ween show was awesome. I almost didn't make it, since my concert buddy got lost in the middle of critical mass and we couldn't find each other. How someone can lose 100 people on blinky-light bicycles is beyond me, but it happened. We reunited, and went into the concert, which was kind of massive. So many bodies. It was so much fun, I didn't even drink. Check out some of the ween videos on this blog.

My planter friend Al and I bathed in the afterglow by going to Fran's and ordering four coffees each, and biking very, very slowly around downtown.
Then I ate a slice of pizza which was much larger than my head.
Biking back uptown in the pouring rain was pretty intense afterwards.
I slept with ween in my headphones.

.Blargh! Yorked!

2007-10-25T14:21:00.000-07:00

I have to voice my annoyance at York...it's been a tense week regarding cash flow. New glasses, 70 dollar art project, you know. But- I was supposed to get paid this week, so everything would be fine.
Not.
All student employees in fine arts haven't received pay. When three of us went in en masse to figure out what was happening, the department told us that the woman in charge of our pay was on vacation. Vacation.
Please, York. Don't tell me that I need to live on $3.17 for two weeks, begging for money to finish my art projects and gain the gift of sight, just because someone went on vacation.
I'd go get some retail therapy, if I didn't know it would cost me more than $3.17.

.What the night operator told me

2007-10-22T21:58:00.000-07:00

"So, I work nights." Says Dave, the late night operations engineer at the utility building. We've just met.
"Mostly, nothing special happens, I'll go weeks without seeing another soul on the job. But sometimes things get weird, y'know? Like two months ago. I was about to go for my smoke, when I see this kid, poking a tree with a stick. Just standin' there, poking it. I'm like, is he having a bad trip or somethin? Is he battling some sort of tree-rex?
Anyway, I phoned security, thought he might need some help. But I decided I'd be all brave and see what was up. I go out there with my smoke and ask him whats up. and he just looks at me funny and says
'I was studying, dude- in the tree. Look.' and I look up, and sure enough, there's a backpack on a branch. With a raccoon sitting on it. Apparently this kid saw this raccon coming for him and decided to give up the branch, but had second thoughts when he realized his textbooks were worth 300 dollars. So I start shaking the tree, and the raccoon goes higher, and sure enough the kid climbs the tree and gets his books. Then asked, him, well, what the hell are you doing studying in a tree at three am, anyway?
'you have to understand, dude,' the kid said, 'it's perfect focus up there. That tree is a study tree.'
and that," Dave says, finishing his cigarette, "is why I never could figure out you fine arts kids."
Happy Monday.

.the aeroport

2007-10-21T19:17:00.000-07:00

Today I made a pilgramage to Pearson airport, too see Thom off on his flight, and deliver his birthday present, his christmas present, and also a small container of 1950's appetizers.
Prunes stuffed with peanut butter, wrapped in bacon - now that is my love language. The thought had to be the thing that counted, though, since Thom's stomach was in no mood to accept even the most wholesome and postmodern food, let alone mine. I gave it to some hungover kids instead...apparently, they were the best thing to happen to them today so far. Score one for 50's housewives.
I think that saying goodbye and giving him these tiny, handmade packages with "November 18th" and "December 25th" written on them shone some light on the meaning of "token of my affection"- because if I tried to cram the affection in a box, I can guarantee it wouldn't fit in carry-on.
Thom gets a hand heart from me.

. broken glass, broken glass.

2007-10-21T01:36:00.000-07:00

Last night was pretty awesome.

Me and Christopher Jardin biked downtown at warpspeed in order to attend a punk/hardcore show at Sneaky Dee's. Listen, I wasn't wearing the uniform for that kind of show, I looked like a total hippie. Jesus tee and all.
By the end of the show, I had blood on my Jesus tee (not mine), wicked bruises across both thighs, one pair of busted glasses, and one semi-black eye. It's not a really bad black eye, it just looks like my left eye hasn't slept in days.
When the bands started playing, felt strangely sucked into the moshpit. I forgot to take off my glasses. That was fine for the first two bands, but the third one was the killing kind- the kind that throws beer on the crowd, takes off their clothes, and throws themselves into the crowd. I think I solely held the lead singer three or four times. The stage was only knee high, which gave the added element of fear for a busted set of patella, should the crowd throw you the wrong way.
So the crowd surfers were pretty out of hand. Kamikaze, I swear, because they were jumping directly into this suckerpunch of a mosh pit/my face. The busted glasses and blackish eye happened when a Doc marten landed in left eye socket. my glasses fell to the floor, and I gave them up for lost. Chris jardin got elbowed super hard in the nose, but he found my glasses in the scuffle. The arm was broken off, but miraculously, the lenses don't have a scratch on them.
Now I'm sore. But it was sweet to hang with Chris, and sweeter to sleep like a baby afterward.
punk may be better therapy than I had previously thought.

.This job winning system needs work.

2007-10-18T09:09:00.000-07:00

The man is getting me down. Today I had the interview for becoming the official Winters photographer, a job with good money ($20/hr(!)) and more importantly, experience I desperately need in event photography. If you want to make a living with a camera, you need to learn to do events. Mostly weddings.
Anywho, it turns out that I pretty much wowed them, and they offered me the job five minutes into the interview. Seriously.
We were all delighted, and so we sat down just to chat. They asked me about the jobs I have now. When I told them about the darkroom, my first interviewer actually clapped his hands at the prospect of their photographer having 24 hour access to the photo labs.
Then the bureaucratic bomb dropped.
York University policy states that I can't have two work study positions, and the dark room counts.
Le sigh. The look on the college staff faces was like a kid whose ice cream had dropped off the cone. So, bottom line, they're petitioning the university to make an exception, but the chances are slim to none.
I got the job, but I (grumble) didn't get the job. pooh.

.The ballad of John and Nezeah

2007-10-17T22:57:00.001-07:00

Living in residence is a short experience at best, with a turnover rate, room to room, of a mere four to eight months. Consequently, me and my current rez buddies often recieve mail and phone calls for residents who have lived here months and even years before. The following is a verbatim set of messages that have been left on my neighbour's machine, from a guy named John to girl named Nezeah.

1)hey nezeah, it's john, I was glad you called me and uhh...yeah, I'd love to get together on Saturday, how do you feel about dance cave, after we do, like, dinner or something? You can just call me back on my cell, ciao bella!

two days later:
yeah, Nezeah, uh, call me back, ok? It's John, and uhh, you sounded like you wanted to do something, so, dance cave, right? Call me!

next day: (dejected tone) Nezeah, yeah, it's john, and , you haven't called me back, so...I'll be at dance cave tonight. I hope I'll see you there, but if I don't, yeah. I hope you're there, Peace.

My neighbour couldnt call poor john back, because he never left his cell number. She changed her answering machine greeting to

"Hey John, this is Chelsea. Sorry, not Nezeah, Chelsea. I hope you get her real number, but this isnt it. It's not that she doesn't like you!"

Oh John, I hope you find her eventually.

.I dont even HAVE fruit.

2007-10-15T17:10:00.000-07:00

Ok, so my room is infested with fruit flies. I have gotten rid of any conceivable foodstuff that might be causing it, but they just won't go away...solutions, anyone?

.Sunday. It had better be a fun day.

2007-10-14T02:40:00.001-07:00

Won't lie. This week was pretty crap. The critique kind of bombed, mostly because of blunt and harsh criticism from my brilliant and bitter professor. Turns out that he was a contractor for many years and doesn't take kindly to just anybody trying to up and make a construction project with a big idea and the wrong kind of hinges.
And I'm too sensitive about that sort of thing, so after the critique I ran to the washroom, cried for an hour despite trying to gain control and go back to class, and threw up for sheer trauma.
Afterwards, my prof apologized and said that his criticism was out of line, that the second he had spoken, he knew that he had shattered me. He said he hadn't meant to do it. He said he mistakenly had thought I was cocky, when really I was fragile.

Even though I know it's just an art piece, I still haven't been able to sleep, knowing that the failed piece is still up in fine arts, and that I can't burn it for firewood to assuage my pride.

So tomorrow is Sunday...hope something good happens. I'll bike downtown, that might help. It usually does. I went to Canadian Tire today with some old friends, but sadly, Canadian tire is best done with a big budget and no conscience of how little one needs a smart crockpot that will cook your meals and flambe your bananas at the moment of entry into home after work. (but I wanted that crockpot bad,anyway)

.tool//time

2007-10-08T20:45:00.000-07:00

The house thanksgiving was awesome as usual...Tofurkey, laugh attacks, and pie, pie, pie. Today's food hangover has been pretty extreme. I'd like to sleep/bike it off, but instead I have to...
Build a box.

After three weeks of no ideas for my first fourth year art project, I finally got an ok one...except that involves constructing a 4' by 4' wooden cube with a door, lighting, carpeting, and panelling. The concept is to have the little claustrophobic walls inside covered with photos of people staring into the lens (re: at you.) Only one person can fit into this miniature gallery at a time. All right, deep. Fine.

Too bad I'm terrified of building anything that requires a measuring tape. I can hammer things and work a staple gun. That's it.
Between my Dad and I knocking heads together for an afternoon, I got the frame done. Two days left. It's going to be epic.

.Thursdays...blursdays.

2007-10-04T09:56:00.000-07:00

Today, when I showed up for scary advanced explorations with Jon Baturin, I understood that it was critique day. I understood that I would not be showing work today, instead showing it with the second group next week.

Not so.

He told me I was first on the list to present. I practically choked on my breakfast sandwich. After spluttering my fuckup, he made an example of me, then told me I could go next week. I blushed then cried.

Oh dear. Today isn't off to a great start. Hopefully my Canada's wonderland fearfest date will turn things up.

.chalked doors- and more

2007-09-30T01:33:00.000-07:00

York's fire warden sent a top down order a few weeks ago that all residences had to take down their bulletin boards and door signs, and anything on the doors of residents.
Basically, the order is to prevent York from being sued in case of fire rather than preventing fires, but there you have it. If you've ever lived in residence, you'll know how important a doorsign and a bulletin board can be, for good feng shui and connecting.
Anyway, I was bummed at being faced with door after faceless door, not knowing who lived where. I had some chalk on hand, so I decorated mine up (album art from hayden, a white board, and some buttons). It looked snazzy, I was pleased, and I wrote a little note on the white board telling passerby that I'd give them chalk if they'd like.
One week later, and at least half of my floor and a good many doors throughout the residence have been chalked, and not just with my chalk. There are doors with calligraphy names, doors with full on murals, doors with drunken signatures by friends, and doors with fireproof doorbells installed.
It's spreading, too. I'm excited! yay for my home!

.a bike named massey

2007-09-28T23:24:00.001-07:00

Today I took my bike Massey downtown, and I biked all the way there. I went with some bike activists to Critical mass, this big shindig where a couple hundred riders just...take over the road. There were some awesome bikes, lots of cute people with dreadlocks, and one guy who had installed a surfboard on his bike so he could just surf when he'd picked up speed. Thats right...too cool. Botoom line was that it was a good time. I feared for my life on the way down though, because all these hardcore cyclists were telling me to weave through traffic with them.
Listen, I don't weave. Massey, beautiful bike that it is, doesn't qualify under the hardcore city messenger bike heading. I came about a hair from hitting a car. The driver threatened me with death.
The ride finished in Kensington market, so we stopped in to check see if Chris was home. He wasn't. Fran was, and we went out for Vietnamese.
So, all in all, I probably biked between 60 and 70 kilometres today. My ass is killing me. Me and biking are going to be more than friends.

.all that and the

2007-08-22T13:26:00.000-07:00

We just ransacked meagh's apartment. I mean, ransacked it. It took hours, three garbage bags, and lots of sanity breaks, but its done. So, you should come to Meaghan's apartment. It looks, smells, and feels fantastic. She'll probably make you noodles, too.

What a nice few days in Peterborough it's been - My only regret is that it's been too short. At long last, I had a photo shoot with Desiree. It was fabulous, we'll need to do a repeat with some more batteries, too. Look at the photos here . Desiree is pretty much the best. She and Dan were supposed to come over today, but my mommay is sick, so we'll have to raincheck. No worries, guys, we'll get you over soon.

Spent a bit too much cash back home this week, but I couldn't help it. Peterborough is teeming with cool beads to put in my dreads, and Mandie from Mandie and Co. makes the coolest clothing ever. I would have bought a hoodie from them, too, but they only had extra small left. Pssh. Biotch ain't no extra small (finger snap).

Back to York tomorrow. Too soon, to be sure, but I know I'll like being a frosh boss. I'm going to try super hard to sneak back for folk fest, and of course some weekends following, in order to find and chill more thoroughly with the ptown crew I couldn't find. (rick, toph, this means you.)

. they'll make a moving made for tv movie.

2007-08-13T21:11:00.000-07:00

somewhere in the middle of this week, I planted my 100 thousandth tree of 2007. I never thought I'd see the day when I could encompass a big number like that in a single planting season.

I am sitting in the company of Misty the cat, a cool little tuxedo owned by two dear vegan friends. It's nice to have cats around again. Planting is one big dog binge. As this will be my last planting post, it's time for the top tens . This week is my last shift, where I'll eat what the quebecois call "tooski" (Tous qui reste dans le frigo).

top ten 2007//

- getting dreads. It turns out that every treeplanter has had dreads at some point. The night I got them done in a 12 hour sitting, over a dozen planters wandered in at intervals to do a dread, put some wax in, or tighten one. All were brimming with advice, stories about their dreadlocks, and offering me beads. I have one bead given to me that was made in a seventh year planters rookie season, and subsequently worn in two sets of dreadlocks.
-Grizzly bear sighting. Kind of an obvious one, but it was just too intense not to be mentioned again.\
- Snow day June 19th. Getting blanketed with big flakes, singing The rita Macneil Christmas album, and generally enjoying the beauty and novelty of it all. Snow in summer: how can you not be overjoyed?
- mix tapes. An amazing gift of several of the best planting mixes ever made, homemade and with love. I'll burn you a copy when I get home, you'll see why.
- riding shotgun all year. It let me get to know my foreman better, learn how to use the radio, and discern a grouse from a rock from an obscene distance.
- the dogs. They have sort of made a dynasty here, with families and interrelations spreading between camps. Some of the dogs here are such proud bush dogs. One, Manana, a white shorthaired lab mix, chased and took down a deer. Returned to the cache covered in blood. Most of the other dogs were just lifesavers in general, happy to see you, follow you, and offer you a vole they'd caught.
- Judy. Our camp cook, Goddess of the bush, mother to us all. This woman would fiercely scold someone for taking a spoon without asking, but if that same person was ill, she would be in the kitchen making them her special tea from hot pepper, ginger, lemon, and honey. She was also my port drinking buddy in the cold spring.
- moose on the land. So ridiculous/majestic. they dont walk, they hover and glide when they move.
-my tent. would that all apartments could be so small, so peaceful, and so simple.
- this moment: first day of spring season, my boots are new and stiff and the laces keep coming undone. An old logger/planter comes up to me and tells me about a special logger knot that keeps them tight. Expecting him to leave me to do it, he instead drops to one knee, unties my shoelaces and knots them back up for me. he called me "little miss loggerboots" for the rest of the season.

bottoms:

-accidentally pooping on a tree. Sorry, little guy.
-seeing a bear in the morning, then seeing it after it had been shot by locals.
- rose bushes. They are prickly.
-eating night shade thinking it was raspberries. NOT. stomach would not forgive me.

and the best for last. seeing you all, scratched up and weatherbeaten though I am.

..

. if you want, we can, we can.

2007-07-20T14:38:00.000-07:00

The flight is booked home, I will be arriving in the tdot at 9:30 pm August 17th. Welcome party, anyone?

Last week's contract was harder than anyone thought possible, and half my crew quit. The ice cream store saved us, I think, in addition to being parked next to a glacial river. Those things are blue like the tropical oceans, only cold instead of hot. I cried a lot, and I feel like there's a pit in my stomach, but hopefully this next contract will cheer us all up. I've been stung by bees and stinging nettles, had to replant 17,000 trees, lost a lot of sleep, got hailed on with stones so large that I have bruises. The camp was alternately baked dry and senseless, then deluged with lightening storms that sent the dogs running into the nearest set of planter's arms they could find. Some tents sunk, as the rising glacial river surrounded their sites and destroyed all their stuff. Not mine, I was a girl guide.

I also got surprised by a deer on my land. It bounced away a few metres and watched me for a long time. On saturday night, the planters showed up at the jam night in the cowboy bar. Bull heads on the walls, a deer shooting arcade game in the corner, you name it. We looked very out of place, and I was afraid that we'd get beat up. It happens in small towns. But the locals were so excited. Most of them had never seen a digeridoo (sp?) before, and the jam band had two. By the time I had finished singing "Red House" and was breaking into "O, death", three couples were dancing, and a soused old gentleman came up and told me to quit planting and go sing, for I'd "Surely given Rita MacNeil a run for her money tonight, oh yeah."

Take that, Rita. Wait a few years and I'll have a tea house going, too.

.them big ol' bears

2007-07-11T14:18:00.000-07:00

GRIZZLY! I saw one! 45 feet away! Thats, like, nothing!

I blame people leaving out dogfood, but, after the last morning of planting the edson alberta contract, we went to take down camp to be greeted by a big grizzly that wouldn't leave. The first thing I noticed (I was on lookout on top of the truck) was that he was far too close to us, and that he was awesome. But, he was not interested in leaving, so we needed to take down our tents in big groups with multiple lookouts. We kept the trucks running, the quads going, and the dogs locked up. It came close enough for National Geographic style photo opportunities. Take note: however big you think grizzlies are: they're bigger.

Soon I'll be done in Alberta. there's no rush, though, our camp is next door to an ice cream parlour. re: deadly on wallet.

2007-06-16T13:19:00.000-07:00

We had Monday off last week. Vanderhoof has unofficially declared Monday a funday, so nothing with the internet was open. Thankfully, we have Saturday off this week, but it didn't work out so well at the bar last night...Narrow misses with locals who don't like planters.

In other news, my design for the company tee shirt got used, and it's pretty cool. I'm a little embarrassed by it, everyone walking around wearing something I drew.

My foreman, Colleen, has a brand new puppy. The whole week has been a haze of cuteness. Unstoppable cuteness. I was paralyzed on my land by the sight of my foreman carrying the tired little pup in her backpack. How can I plant trees with such goings on?

Strange weather we've been having to end this contract- and what a long contract! Tired planters have been pelted by snow and hail, I've needed to change my mouldy gloves for days but had none extra. Next week is the last shift, where we'll party, plant in big groups, and generally get this sucker done. Then alberta, sweet Alberta. It'll be a good change.

Take care, Ptown and the rest...drink a latte for me, the Vanderhoof folk don't know what they are.

2007-06-05T14:25:00.000-07:00

having accidentally deleted thge post i was writing, I have ten mins to write this one. just enought tinme to spellcheck. This week brings fun with language, the facts of low morale, and the frenzy of gourmet morels.

I was in a piece you had to bushwhack through the forest to get to. It had a pocket in the back, a little bubble of land with no access. Since the piece was big, Julie and David came in at the end to help me finish. While they were coming throught he trees, they yelled,
"hey, Shannon, How is your land!?"
"J'ai des grandes poches sur mon patch!"
It should have been fine, really. poche = pocket, right? Well, no. Poche means "testicle." I had just told them that my land had big testicles in it. When they finally stopped laughing at me, we barely had time to finish.

Nobody very happy this week, we're all too tired. numbers are lower, poeple are sick, production is down...how do we boost morale? i know how I do. I...

Find mushroooms! Morels! these little black jewel orbs are all over my land, but are notoriously difficult to see. Some mushroom hunters go for years without finding one. I found three hundred, just while planting. It made a nearly unbearable four days into an easter egg hunt, and for that I thank god. But now, wghat does one do with 300 gourmet mushrooms (they costs over 300USD per pound)? I dont even have a microwave. Maybe i'll just...look at them. So pretty. google image black morels. you'll see.

. speeeeed!

2007-05-30T13:45:00.000-07:00

three minutes to wriyte in library computer no time to spellcheck they will cut me off momentarily, its super hot up here, we had a snowball fight on day 5, the vegetarians get pasta in at least three forms every night this week, strange bugs have hatched that mate on allt he planters. We call them f*ckbugs. I dont know what they are.
told the quebecous that a wapiti is an alk. they dont beleive me still. muist print off labelled picture. went dancing last night. local guys think im sexy. dont think local guys are sexy. locals guys can, however buy me drinks.
came off school with an A average. would have been a plus but french got inthe way. serves me right for thinking i could write in french.

much love.

.anatomy of a planting week.

2007-05-24T14:27:00.000-07:00

Day 1. - am given a large piece, rocky at the back, but so beautiful at the front. Begin to plant like there is a fire under my rear. Up til today, haven't planted over 1500 trees this season.
1880 trees by end of day. It's actually a personal best.
Day 2. -boss drops me off at new piece with 2000 trees and a smile. Realize ten minutes in that the piece is rocky. By 11:30 am, after rage planting for an hour, crying a little, and hurting my hand, give up on 2k for the day. Begins to hail in the afternoon. Thank goodness for hard hats. Wind blowing in negative temperatures.
-1215 trees by the end of the day. Given a hug and told that tomorrow will be better.
Day 3. - Same piece. Determined to channel the patience of the noble Jersey cow to get through the rocks, since sad trees are bad trees and being discouraged never helped anyone plant faster. Virtually emotionless throughout the day. When frustration begins, think of forewoman and puppies. Impossible to be frustrated while thinking of puppies.
-1555 trees by end of day. Happy, drinking wine with the crew.
Day 4: Finish the rocky piece in an hour, and am moved to a piece which shall be called "The Texas Creamshow massacre." The piece is beautiful, shaped exactly like Texas, and comparable in size. Only 760 trees in by noon, but pounded like a maniac in the afternoon, over 300 trees per hour. Began to think 2k was possible. Worked even harder. Put in the 2000th tree at 5:30. Fell onto knees and thanked God.
-2025 trees by the end of the day, 2nd highest on the crew, got a beer, fell into bed soon after.
Day 5: short day...worked hard, but so hot.
-1420 trees by the end of the day, 2nd highest on the crew. Beer time.

In other news, hot debate is raging on the existence of a creature called the Wapiti. Only the Quebecois use the word, and say that its an animal thats bigger than a deer and smaller than a moose, living in Canada. You'd think elk, right? They insist it isn't. It's been bugging a lot of people all week, I'm really hoping Wikipedia will settle the matter.
Someone suggested that it was an animal only french people could see.

.planter quotes.

2007-05-15T13:38:00.000-07:00

to a rookie on his first day:
"Hey, James, How's life in the fast lane?"
"Not fucking fast, that's for sure."

On discussing a recent gray jay sighting:
"So, you said it was medium sized, what colour was it?"
"I'm colourblind."
"Take a guess?"
"I dunno, bird coloured?"

In other news, a Cake album has been stuck in the truck CD player since the beginning of the season. It wouldn't be so bad, except that since we've moved 142 km up the logging road, we can't use our Mp3 players. All the car jacks are being used for radio contact. I have very word memorized on the album. Most days I just sing cake on the land, it's useless to resist. they were catchy to begin with, and now we have nothing else to listen to. the Quebecois have taken to singing in the back of the truck to provide a break. My personal favourite?

Je fait de la poudre
Pour travailler plus
Pour faire plus d'argent
pour faire plus de poudre
pour travailler plus
pour faire plus d'argent
pour faire plus de poudre....

Yup. that vicious cocaine cycle. We're in a logging camp now, so I get a nice warm bed, nag champa incense, and a roomate who talks in her sleep. Last night, she was saying, "Non! Non! Je planterai plus!"

Indeed.

.tick tape

2007-05-02T12:02:00.000-07:00

Ok, so the crew had ticks this week. I have found several in my hair, some already burrowing.

Basically, we were on a twenty cent block, when someone found one on their arm at the end of the day. They look like deep red dustmites, the size of the top of a pen or a 0 gauge earring. They burrow in, suck your blood, grow, and lay eggs. When we started to get nervous and check ourselves, our driver laughed at us.
"Hah! You guys, one tick doesn't mean we all have them."
"Aie, but Johnnee, I see one, she ees on your forehead!"
"AAAAH!"

We found fifteen in his hair, and two in his armpits that we had to get out with hot tweezers. Whenever ticks are mentioned in camp now, you see people's hands fly up to their hairlines to check. Our New Zealand planter, Justin, found one below his belly button and crawling south.

"I'm not sure I'm a big fan of all your wildlife," he told me.
The little guys are nature's equivalent of an armoured car. You cannot kill them, except with fire. I tried to squish one with all my strength, and it just waved its little red legs at me. We set up a strip of duct tape on the truck to stick them on. They flail their little legs and hang around.

Another glorious week out west. As my friend David grumbled while pulling one out of his chest hair:
"I'm sorry, leetle ticky-tick, but I don't think I'm ready to have children."

. bluebirds

2007-04-27T15:26:00.000-07:00

Thanks for the comments, meagh and rick, it makes my day off to see them:)

Last night was surprise night off, because most of our trees are too frozen to plant today. Just as well, since it snowed yesterday and my Carpe Diem attitude can wear thin. For a treat and to avoid the wind that was flipping several tents over, we stayed in the hotel nearby. About seven beer into the night, half the camp starts a game of texas holdem. I've never played, but I figured that one bundle buy ins were a good place to start.

I won two pots, totalling 830 trees, or well over 125 dollars.
I don't know how this happened. Apparently my poker face is good.

Theres only 1 minute left in my session, and today was long since I helped dig a road. This place is packed with planters.

peace.

.It's up for debate.

2007-04-22T13:48:00.000-07:00

The first week.

My shovel is slick

with hand's fresh opened blisters.

Greatest job ever?

The first week in Barriere: difficult and decent. The mystery bruises are returning, the land has been a potent mix of rock and good soil (hard on the wrists). I've managed to forget something every day at work...one day it was a hair band, the next I had no gloves and had to plant bare hand. Barehanded planting is an excercise in tiny cuts and cuticle slivers. I also forgot my sunscreen one day, so my allergic reaction has returned in all its bumpy, itchy glory.

That said, my crew is cool, we have a New Zealand planter named Justin this year. I was planting on his land yesterday. As I planted up to him, he yelled; "Shannon! Shannon! I saw a chipmunk! No, I saw two! I tried to catch one, but they're too fast! They're awesome! Did you ever see a racoon?"

Needless to say, he's enjoying the wildlife. He wants to see a bear so badly, and yet is really freaked of being eaten. If he stays, he'll see his bear for sure.

We have the best cook. Had her last year...she's pretty much a kitchen goddess. Friday's dinner was spinach/feta quiche and scalloped potatoes with borscht, and neopolitan ice cream for dessert. Take that, McDonalds. We're in a valley, but we plant in the mountains. From my land, I could see Kamloops, an hour's drive away.

Keep it real back home. I think about the homekids a lot.

.We'll smoke the monster out.

2007-04-10T21:38:00.000-07:00

I'm pretty upset. York cut down all the trees around our favourite student hangout at winters, flooded it, razed the bushes, and put in heavy, ten foot tall steel fence poles. They did it before, and the students pulled out the poles and carried them away. This time, they put the poles in much deeper, and I suspect that they may have put concrete in the bases of them. It was so awful, to arrive there tonight with my friends. They were enraged and dismayed. They kicked the poles, they gathered the treelimbs. They covered the woodchips. Half a dozen tired, sad people.

I get angry when trees are cut down for no good reason. Logging is different, somehow. If the old growth forest becomes toilet paper, its bad, but at least it went to something. When York cuts down trees from a student space, they are destroying my living room. Students can't afford paintings. We take our beauty where we can find it. When they replace the stumps with steel barriers, they desecrate our home.

We're coming back with shovels tomorrow, with rope. We'll dig out the fence and carry the poles as far as we can. It's futile in the end. York will get their fence, they will block us out. They took down the mural that had ten years of student signatures on it. I never got to add my name.

I shook one of the poles for an hour tonight trying to loosen it. My arms are tired. I'm bruised. What they had back-hoes and chainsaws to do, I can't undo with my bare hands.

With your degree, you will get a crash course in powerlessness.

.so spaketh the sapling

2007-04-07T14:06:00.000-07:00

This time next week, I'll be planting trees. Literally. Whew.

I'd like to thank Jardin for helping me put thirty personalized fortunes into fortune cookies after taking the old ones out with pins...job application. Don't ask.

It's the last weekend home. I love you Peterborough. Toronto, we'll talk. BC, here come I.

.curiouser and curiouser.

2007-03-29T10:40:00.000-07:00

I'm going back to the darkroom after an intense and weird morning. We were doing photography critiques for black and white, and my friend Jehnai was presenting. she's had a hard time with the prof all year, and has been desperately trying to improve. The prof harshly criticized her beautiful image and her art, and the critique dragged on with jehnai crying. After 10 minutes I stood up and paced the back of the room, I was too furious.
My critique was next. I was shaking- and I proceeded to lay into my prof. After saying that I had the floor, I called the previous critique a debacle, called her grading and evaluation arbitrary to the point of being disturbing, said that this method devalued all of our work, and that the disparity in her comments was disgusting. My prof stood up to defend herself, but then apologized.
I feel pretty bad, though, because it won't save Jehnai's grade, and it prolonged her suffering and tears. We had to break after because all hope of continuing normally were dashed.

. you still have my hallelujah

2007-03-28T22:18:00.000-07:00

It's been a whack few days.

This afternoon I sang at the funeral for art stuff, my store. Everyone dressed in black and walked into the grand Vari Hall rotunda, a public space with great acoustics and a lot of student traffic. After eulogies, I was asked to sing Amazing Grace. So I did. All four verses. It was surreal to hear the place go quiet, and to see the students stop and watch from the balconies.

We should appropriate public spaces for hymn singing more often.

Over the weekend, I got a gift...a camera. I brought mine to church just for fun, and Kerri and Joel Kightley saw me with it. Out of nowhere, they offered me theirs. Now, the best part is this. When I get to their house to pick up the camera, I see how extravagant their gift is. My camera is a Pentax SF1. They gave me the Pentax SF10. It's not just a good camera, it's a fantastic camera that I already know the functions for. Thanks, Kightley-trons. I wish I could be so generous and not make a big production of it.

In other news, while heading to the foodbank last week (saving for new boots, and between paycheques) I ran into a buddy of mine near the school chapel. We talked about the crunch of March finances. As I left, he pushed a twenty into my hand, smiled and said "Don't worry: ends will meet."

I'm thankful for these little graces. They are undeserved, but these in addition to a weekend home have been a battery charge to the end of March.

.it's been said, she knocks them dead

2007-03-14T09:57:00.000-07:00

With a month left to go in this province, (then out the British Columbia, that beautiful mountainous mudhole), I get carpal tunnel syndrome. It's not bad, it's just irritating.

My art store is being shut down. Cossar's is closing. Speak Volumes will be stricken silent.

I went to the library to get resources for my essay, to find that every scrap of related material has been rented out and isnt due for another week. The essay is due in 2 days.

This warm snap has me jittery. I can't sleep, even though the all nighter season is upon me.

I've started walking really fast everywhere and doing pushups. The planting dreams have started again.

I need to get home to Peterborough -there's something in the air here.

flu. Heck.

2007-03-01T16:18:00.000-08:00

Was just diagnosed after about 24 hours of knowing that this nausea, coughing, chills and fever could be nothing else. I haven't eaten since Tuesday, just finished sleeping for over 20 hours. As a result, I missed all my favourite classes. But, I need to say it's my fault for not getting the flu shot. Chris Jardin conspiracy theories aside, would it have killed me to get one?

Somebody make me soup.

Actually, it might be best if you didn't come near me.

.John 5:1-11

2007-02-22T00:46:00.000-08:00

Because there is little else I could do to further postpone doing my homeowrk tonight, I'll give you the photo project I'm handing in at 8:30 am tomorrow, entitled, Fishers of Men.

Look close, enjoy.

.culture, schmulture

2007-02-09T13:49:00.000-08:00

a story I heard while staying up all night with my friend Garner.
"So, my moroccan friend decided to invite me over to his parents house for dinner. They don't speak much english, but I figured I'd be fine.
Well, they served me a huge plate of fantastic food. Even though it was more than I could eat, I cleaned the plate to be polite. As soon as I finished, his mom took my plate, reloaded it, and came back. Not wanting to insult her, I ate it all. The, she did it again, and again, piling more food on as fast as I could finish. I'd be damned if I insulted her cooking by not eating it, so I ate myself green.
Meanwhile, in the kitchen, his mother was desperately reheating last week's leftovers to keep me eating. Turns out, Moroccan etiquette dictates that when you finish eating, you leave a bit on your plate to infer that your hostess fed you amply. A cleared plate needs to be refilled, and it's an insult to make your hostess do it.
Finally, the fifth plate came, and I threw up my hands and said that I couldn't eat anymore, apologizing. His mother threw up her hands and demanded in arabic why her son had brought such a rude bastard into the house.
Her son translated between us until the mess was sorted out. My friend's mom laughed, hugged me, and invited me to come back for dinner next week. "By then, my fridge might have recovered from your Canadian manners."

. No, really, it's fun once you try it.

2007-01-30T23:43:00.000-08:00

Ok: embarrassing secret: I go into trances with small animals.
No, seriously. Gophers, raccoons, and rabbits mostly. It goes like this. I'll come into the quad around the college, and see a small animal dart into the bush (tonight it was a rabbit). The I stay on that exact spot and do not move a muscle. I learned it in life drawing. I even breathe really shallow. For the first ten minutes the animal stays either in the tree or under the bush, but eventually, it starts to relax. After about twenty or thirty minutes of standing perfectly still, the animal starts foraging again. If I move once by accident after fifteen minutes, the animal spooks and I need to start over. It is trancelike; your eyes go out of focus and you lose track of time. It's fun, too. I've untreed raccons with this quirk, and gotten gophers within three feet of me.
Here's where it got embarrassing.
Tonight while returning from the pub, I spotted a rabbit under a bush. Stood still. After ten minutes it started foraging again. After twenty, it came out from under the bush and went onto the open snow. After thirty, the don on duty came out to see why three residents had voiced great concern that there was a girl in the quad standing stalk still in minus ten degrees for a freakishly long time. Blushing, I pointed out the (now frightened and re-bushed) rabbit and explained that I like standing still until they move etc, etc.
Shoot. Sometimes I just realize that I'm weird.

.The rainbow connection.

2007-01-27T00:16:00.000-08:00

Today:
- Positive space training, which means that my room is now an identified (certified!) safe zone for LGBT people to hang out, be themselves, talk to me and have me listen, and get resources which I can give referrals to. The course was offered for free on campus, so I jumped on it. Should have done it long ago. More excuses to keep my room clean.
-sushi with my aunt. Avocado maki and I are tight!
- stopped shampooing my hair at the advice of a hippie bartender friend of mine, who hasnt shampooed for two years and has gorgeous hair. It will take a few weeks for my hair to correct itself, so I'm now a grease monkey.
- discovered that tandoori heat doritos are vegan. Harvest vegetable soup at the absinthe pub is not. It is filled with beef tallow. Eeegh.
- Read a book called "Why you should give a damn about same sex marriage." I already did, but now I have statistics...
-ate late night veggie pizza while discussing the bible with an atheist friend. I like the bible.
Whew...that was a day. Now I sleep and dream of avocado maki, queers, and leviticus. MMMMmmmmmmmmmmmmm.

.a letter from Laura

2007-01-26T02:34:00.000-08:00

Dear Godmother, Shannon Marie Culkeen;
May God's grace always be with you. I want to thank you for the letter that you have sent me, for your good wishes and for your prayers, thank you for thinking on me. Because you sponsor me, I want to tell you about how I am doing here. My family is doing Bad. My dad had a surgery for a hernia because there were complications. I have a migraine...other than that, all right, more or less. I want you to come, I need you to come please. I want to know if you can come and spend time with us. I passed the 6th grade! May you enjoy yourself on Christmas. I love you very much. You are a rose. Come soon.

(2nd paragraph, maybe another letter.)
Dear God mother; I got your lettter, I loved it. I am still sad, because my Dad is still sick. I need to have blood taken out of my right arm to have exams, to know if I truly have a migraine or if it's something else. In these moments, I wish you were here. I need you to come, more than ever. I loved the picture you drew of me, I will send you another.

Bioi;

Laura Imelda de la Luz Colin (Age 11, birthday February 4th, 1995)

Crud, My sponsor kid breaks my heart.

How can you explain to an (almost) 12 year old that, though you provide a lot of the privileges she has in her life, you're too poor to come see her?

.sawdust and diamonds

2007-01-15T12:17:00.000-08:00

Heavy weekend home, kids. Much love to you all.
Now I'm here, and will live in the dark room until further notice.
Picture post coming soon.

Picture at left done by friend Joel.

.Throwing stuff at other stuff

2007-01-06T18:46:00.000-08:00

The new darts my lil brother gave me for Christmas rock. See image at left. Seriously.
Of the two games of cricket (it's a darts game) I played last night, I won both, and these darts got rave reviews, for precision and nice flying.
What grace! And how very pimp they are! And the flyers don't have naked chicks on them!
You should all play. It's stress relieving in a big, projectile way.

.Je suis un canard...vive le france.

2007-01-04T23:11:00.000-08:00

SOOO keeping the french course. The films were so great. WWII quebec war propaganda ("come, fight ze engleesh war!") and pre WWI Catholic films. In addition, my prof is an older guy, and he speaks slow, succinct french. I can understand him nearly perfectly. I even commented in class (and was understood, except that once I said "montagne" when I meant "montage"...that screwed them up.)
And the movies we'll be watching! les Invasions Barbaires, Un homme et ses pechers, l'homme qui planter des arbres , mon oncle antoine..and a slew more. Whee.

.francofolie

2007-01-03T21:15:00.000-08:00

Back at York. Thanks for the sweet holiday, guys.

I'm currently getting cold feet on my Cinema Quebecois course on Thursday nights. It's not the course itself, I'm sure that will be awesome. The problem lies in where it fits in my schedule. Namely, in the middle of Pub night, on the other campus, after eight previous hours of class, with nary the time to get a sandwich in between. It will be, as my boss put it, "death by time crunch." If tomorrow's shuttlebus/exhaustion situation goes unfavourably, I will end up trying to squeeze myself into the (already full) art of the Arctic class.

In other news, Moments in Canadian Art History looks to be an awesome course. Whoo.

.sometimes you can't stop her...

2006-12-13T08:51:00.000-08:00

I nailed, nailed, nailed that exam, baby.
Now just two shifts at work, some gift wrapping, and home, sweet home.
much love, folk.

.advice time.

2006-12-10T00:37:00.000-08:00

So, how do you dump someone? Because four dates later, I got one that ain't a keeper. Never had to do this before.

Discuss.

.rejoice, rejoice, rejoice

2006-12-08T21:50:00.000-08:00

Tonight I went to a thing put on by the Christians in Founders called Deedz...basically everyone gets together, makes bagged lunches and hot chocolate, and heads downtown armed to the teeth with warm food and clothing to hand out.
I was decidedly out of my comfort zone.
I think that the Bridge in ptbo has it down when they avoid the sandwich/breadline mentality. Homeless people are pretty tired of sandwiches, and rightly so. The good parts were when you'd get a talkative guy, and a few folk would sit down crosslegged and have a smoke with them on the grate.
Dave Blondel took the youth group out to hand out sandwiches a few years back, and it freaked me out, because I realized how little a lunch really is. Also, it made me realize a lot about respecting people's personal space, and not feeling a sense of entitlement to it just because I'm a Christian with hot chocolate.
So, a bunch of groups do the whole sandwich/hot chocolate handout deal. We passed by one, and a pretty girl said "Hey! I know you!" Turns out that she knows Meaghan...saw her sing at the Huizenga farm in Uxbridge. This struck us both as hilarious, we laughed and laughed.
The night ended with me being invited to, like, three church services on campus. I think I'll take the catholic dude up on his offer, too. Good vibes.

So, what do you want for Christmas?

.Gott segnan Sie

2006-11-28T03:56:00.000-08:00

It's seven am. I just got back from seeing Thom and Bree off to their flight. I gave them tiny flat packed Christmas gifts (Thom's dad thought this was odd). They'll open them on the 25th, which I think is neat. Like a Christmas time capsule.
They are dressed warmly, they are well fed, and their boarding passes are packed in order of flight.
The Chris/Thom/(rick) apartment will be no more as of Thursday.
We're going to miss these two kids a whole lot, won't we?

. so, can we talk about the weather?

2006-11-25T22:03:00.000-08:00

Someone asked me THE EVIL QUESTION tonight. After a wonderful evening of planting 100 bulbs at the wormhole ( so they will bloom in spring during exams). She is an atheist, and I'm a Christian. We were talking, and all seemed to be nice. Then she asked me if I thought she was going to hell.
Please, my friends, don't ask a Christian that question...it's just not fair. It was so obvious that she wanted me to say the wrong thing, too. What is the right thing to say? I told her the bible says we're all essentially screwed without God, and that we're all on the same playing field.
Then she asked me whether I thought I was going to heaven.
Yes, I do.
Why?
Because about five years ago I took advantage of a universal get out of jail free card by the name of Jesus?
Then you believe I'm going to hell.
That's not up to me at all.
Well, whether its true or not, the fact that you believe it is really mean and offensive. Um...I'm going home now.
So, I've managed to offend you?
It Can't be helped. Bye.

Crap. I tried. Does anyone understand? I loathe offending people. I'm not elitist, I don't think that God likes me any better than he likes everyone else. God likes you. Really.
Grumble.
I want to have tea and not think about conversational atom bombs.

.veggies unite!

2006-11-23T23:33:00.000-08:00

The cyanotypes keep getting pushed back. The internet makes them sound so easy. Today I learned from Jamie the technician (who resembles "Grumpy" from Snow White) that this process is toxic enough to make a gas mask a good choice. Ugh. Now I do it Monday.
On the happy side, I recived a BIG Good Food Box today. Now I have enough food to feed three of me for a week, all for a slim $17. This service is offered in PTBO, and the food box changes with what is seasonal. You can get an organic version, too! Check out what I got:
3 green peppers
1 head of cabbage
3 lbs of apples *
1 sweet box of clementines (eating them, now)
1 canteloupe
1 bunch of broccoli*
1 romaine lettuce
1 bunch of bananas
1 lb of plum tomatoes
1 box of mushrooms*
3 lbs carrots*
*locally grown
Sweet! My box came with recipes to use the veggies, so I'm making ginger carrot soup and cabbage/carrot bhaji. Man. Cheap surprise produce rules.

.turning blue

2006-11-17T11:27:00.000-08:00

This is a cyanotype. I am making cyanotypes this weekend. If you want make one with me, just say so, and I'll slosh some hand mixed chemicals onto canvas for you and we'll have a blast.

.twenty eight

2006-11-15T23:35:00.000-08:00

What I did this afternoon. It's part of a larger piece. I enjoy these themes, but I'm not sure whether I feel like answering to my class about them.
I'm well adjusted, folk. Some people aren't afraid of heights...others aren't afraid of needles.

.we'll dig his grave with a silver spade

2006-11-07T15:47:00.000-08:00

So, CASA randomly just gave me a cheque for $100. A portion of my honouraria, they said. A thank you, for all I've done. So...um, yay groceries?
The darkroom was closed tonight. Some moniter decided they weren't going to show up for work. I may slay this department yet. And so...tomorrow, I am in the darkroom from 8:30 am to 9:30 pm. The only hope I have. At least my negs are ok. Thanks Thom, Chris, and twin.

2006-11-03T00:57:00.000-08:00

Developed and printed this image today. I like it.

.aiee! but she glows!

2006-11-02T06:49:00.000-08:00

Last night, I was at the Absinthe pub, enjoying a drink I didn't pay for. A friend of mine was supposed to let me into Winters Residence yesterday morning to cook. We had arranged to meet at 9:00 am sharp. Suffice it to say, I was forgotten outside, ridiculously holding an armload of groceries. I ended up making the soup in the microwave ten minutes before coffeehouse (yay microwaves). I got a beer out of it from my guilty friend. Hah! Guilt beer.
Anywho, as I was ordering, I noticed the bartender Erin grinning at me funny. She said;
"Hey, uh... why do you have the blacklight ab stamp on your face?"
"I do?"
" You totally do!" she called the other staff over to see it. Then it dawned on me. It was a print from 8 hours with my sleeping face smushed on my hand. The ab staff roared with laughter while they were pouring my beer.
Perhaps I should shower more often.

.calender dyslexia?

2006-10-29T13:17:00.000-08:00

So, I managed to trade an hour of my shift with one of the porters. She came by this afternoon, presumably to confirm things. Instead, she said;
"Hey man, you might want to check the schedule...I don't actually think you're supposed to work Monday."
So I did. Abashedly, I must admit, that I was never scheduled to work Monday. That's my usual shift, but not this week.
Well, I suppose that's taken care of. On Monday, I intend to play darts!

. good things come.

2006-10-29T01:37:00.000-08:00

Sometimes, I night just clicks.
I was at a party, and having a surprisingly good time. All my school friends were there, along with many I hadn't seen in a while. I wasn't planning on going, but I optimistically packed up my remaining 1/3 bottle of bailey's and resolved to show. It was a sweet night of socializing, decent music, and one generous event that will sustain me for weeks, I know.
The party was at a lull, and I was getting tired. I guess I was starting to show that despondant look I've been moping around with for days, because Leeanne approached me almost immediately, and shyly asked if she could play with my hair. My hair is a greasy mop under a toque tonight, with flour still at the scalp from my halloween costume, but I agreed. She pulled off my toque, and began playing, scratching, massaging my scalp. She didn't stop for five minutes. I felt myself beautifully reduced to a smiling, stress-free puddle. Then she pulled off my jacket and massaged my back for a half hour straight. When I was so satisfied as to be past movement, she slipped a Crispy Crunch (my favourite!) into my hand. Then she moved onto the person beside me. It was in a quiet side room, and over the next half hour I saw her repeat the ritual with all the stressed, tired persons around me.
It should be said that I don't know Leeanne all that well. This gift of hers was the best and most timely I could have received.
Have a sweet weekend, friends. Tell me all about it come Monday.

. yes, and every man a liar

2006-10-27T17:24:00.000-07:00

I need, NEED someone to take my porter shift on Monday. I am scheduled to work through my last CASA meeting. I can't work that day. I just can't. In order for me to sleep at night, I need to be at that meeting, look them in the eye, and say my peace.

.so is this how Clinton felt?

2006-10-25T00:43:00.000-07:00

For those who do not know, Tonight marked the unexpected beginning of my impeachment from CASA, my beloved student government of three years. Why? I dropped too many balls. My whole being is sad. Many much needed and supportive conversations with people I love tonight made all the difference, I thank you.
All there is left is this difficult week ahead of me, my last week as VP Programs. I ask for your support and prayer, that I

Would conduct myself with as much dignity as possible, lending grace to a situation where bitterness could be rampant.

That my words and actions would reflect not the past few terrible hours I have spent on CASA, but the three good, dedicated years.

That encouragement would come my way when I need it most.

That Christ would be in the changes at hand, and in my student life after CASA.

I am not usually one to drop the name of Christ in my blog (kills the comments), but I feel beyond a shadow of a doubt that if anyone would get my situation, he would. Even more so, I feel that is anyone could help me govern my conduct now, he could. So pray, if you do. If you don't, message me and send me some love. Sorely needed this week.

.Stan Rogers

2006-10-17T15:14:00.000-07:00

One of the best Canadian drinking tunes ever. brings tears to my eyes whenever I hear it.
1) She went down last October
in the pouring driving rain.
The skipper he’s been drinking
and the mate he felt no pain.
Too close to Three Mile Rock
and she was dealt her mortal blow
And the Mary Ellen Carter sitting low.

There was just us five aboard her
when she finally was a-wash.
We worked like hell to save her
all headless of the cost.
And the groan she gave as she went down
it caused us to proclaim
That the Mary Ellen Carter’d rise again.

Instrumental break

2) Well, the owners wrote her off,
not a nickel would they spend.
"She gave twenty years of service,
boys, and met her sorry end.
but insurance paid the loss to us,
so let her rest below",
They laughed at us and said
we had to go.

But we talked of her all winter,
some days around the clock,
She’s worth a quarter million,
a-floating at the dock.
And with every jar that hit the bar
we swore we would remain
And watch the Mary Ellen Carter rise again.

Refrain:
Rise again, raise again,
Let her name not be lost
to the knowledge of men,
For those who loved her best
and were with her to the end,
We’ll make the Mary Ellen Cater, rise again.

3) All spring, now, we’ve been with her
on a barge lent by a friend.
Three dives a day in a hard hat suit
and twice I’ve had the bends.
Thank God it’s only sixty feet
and the currents here are slow
Or I’d never have the strength to go below.

But we’ve patched her rents,
and stopped her vents,
dogged hatch and porthole down
Put cables to her ‘for and aft
and girded her around
And tomorrow, noon, we hit the air
and then take up the strain
And watch the Mary Ellen Carter rise again.

Refrain

For we couldn’t leave her there,
you see, to crumble into scale.
She’d save our lives so many times,
living through the gale,
And the laughing, drunken rats
who left her to a sorry grave,
They won’t be laughing in another day.

And you, to whom adversity
has dealt that final blow
With smiling bastards lying to you
everywhere you go
Turn to, and put out all your strength
of and heart and brain
And, like the Mary Ellen Carter, rise again!

Rise again, rise again,
Though your heart, it be broken,
your life about to end,
No matter what you’ve lost,
a home, a love, a friend,
Be like Mary Ellen Carter, rise again.

.ballad of a lonely construction worker

2006-10-17T14:33:00.000-07:00

I am starting to get an itch...one of those itches that either demands a new hole in my body, a new picture drawn on it, or in this case, a burn. Booking a consultation with Blair next week, for two rings around my ankles. Tattoos have to come soon, too. I have all these images of leaves, treelines, cityscapes, and group of seven paintings in my head.
Stressed about a thousand meetings...I'm not cut out for highly motivated self organizational jobs, straight up. I like events that take care of themselves (like potlucks) and not ones that need constant rescucitation and babying to make happen (like environmental concerts).
Much love. Wish I was there.

.danke

2006-10-09T21:34:00.000-07:00

Thanks for the cheer, guys.
Oh my Land, the Tofurkey was fantastic.
I arrived at the House of Thom and Chris this morning. Spent an intense time drawing on Thom, but eventually he and I just went out with the cam. The pics were taken on a sofa that had been overtaken by a colony of woodlice. Coolest animals. Meaghan's house should take them in as pets.
After that I curled up on Chris's bed and started to read 1984, but that swiftly led to sleep. I was woken up abruptly by Chris Shamuing me. That was cool, we went and took pics on the playground. Five rolls of film this weekend...and probably 5 pounds, too.

.the nine daughters of mnemosyne

2006-10-03T22:51:00.000-07:00

Having gone through paintings, files, and prints, I discovered that I have over 150 finished art images of Thom, created over the course of five years or so.

I've been terribly sad lately at the thought of not having new images of him to paint, to draw, or photograph. I keep resolving to take my camera home, to photograph him more, or draw on him, accumulate more images with which to make more images.

If you've ever had a muse -archaic word, but it's apt- you'll know what I mean. What have I been chasing after in five years worth of renderings? He posesses so much grace in his movement, and not in the dancer sense, either.

There's a few artists here who use their close friends as inspiration. It's difficult. A photograph with a subject...well, I guess your goal is to have your message seen, through your model. But with your muse? It becomes a visual testament to this love you have. Not only do you want your message seen, but with each image, there's this attempt to make your audience understand why 150 images of Thom would never be enough.

.poppin fraiche

2006-09-29T23:38:00.000-07:00

How to be a good neighbour, Shannon Style:
1) be in a great mood on Tuesday night. In a fit of sheer goodwill, put little posters on your neighbour's doors saying "Friday is baking day: I'll drop some fresh baked Chocolate chip cookies on your doorstep!"
2) realize that posters are public knowledge, and regard with growing alarm the number of post-its on your door which request cookies. example: " OMG! G210 is lonely! We want cookies too! <3>
4) Have a really blase depressio Friday. Come home feeling not like a good neighbour but a crampy porcupine. Resolve to let neighbours make their own D*mn cookies.
5) Repent of such rude thoughts. Resolve instead to go to general store to buy supplies. You need eggs, brown sugar, and margarine.
6) Drop existing baking supplies on the floor. Grimly add white sugar to shopping list and rent vaccum.
7) Arrive in general store, go to baking aisle.
8) Notice tubes of Pillsbury cookie dough are on sale...
9) Stealthily bake cookies, hiding any evidence along the way. Heavenly smell fills the hallway. Residents follow you like Pied Piper.
10) Deliver cheater-cookies to neighbours. Receive many post-its of thankyous: "OMG! You're so nice! We're not lonely! :P *^_^*"
11) feel alternating twinges of guilt and satisfaction.
Mea culpa, mea mmmmcoookie culpa.

.pulling punches left and right

2006-09-26T20:41:00.000-07:00

I have grown to dislike three hour marathon meetings. I always get cranky at about the 1.5 hour mark, start playing devil's advocate on all the motions, and mostly feel disagreeable. At least I came home to a spotless room tonight ( I got ambitious and cleaned it). In a half hour all my laundry will be done. Ironically, Chris just left today, and for once my room looks sharp and ready to entertain.
I'm really grateful for Chris coming over lately, he's been sparking some life and companionship into an otherwise pretty solitary residence. The only people who have EVER set foot in my room are me, and him.
This week, I'd encourage you to act in service to someone you love or a group you support. Everyone I've run into this past week is it desperate need of support, for some reason. Time of year? People re-immersing themselves in the all too hectic sharktank of fall? So, use your imaginations...get back to me in a week.
Plans are well underway for the winters Potluck. Though a smashing success last year, you can look up my post from that day here. November 11th, I think, its the one with the oreo cheesecake that Des counselled me through.

.malinke drums aint easy to play.

2006-09-18T13:42:00.000-07:00

Oh, good folk, what can a girl do with a deliciously hand dyed, hand spun ball of wool? I got it for Christmas from Meaghan long ago, and it's been staring at me prettily from a drawer ever since. It screams "Crochet me! knit me! Bitch, Do something!" Well, I want to, but you see, there's not very much of this wool. It is only one ball. Any suggestions? It needs to be something unique and cool, too. So that the girls in fine arts all come up to me and tell me how awesome I look and where did I get my pretty hand dyed ____? Oh fashion slaves...

I just got my djembe yesterday. This baby broke the bank, but oh my, I've just fallen in love. I'm sure that anyone who has ever bought a guitar would feel the same way. I was intimidated by the selection available, but after much playing and cajoling by Chris, I settled on an oversize Guinea drum, with a dark coloured goatskin and rough scraping. It has basic carving and smooth insides. It tone, in my opinion, would make the angels sing. I was walking around kensington with it, and this beautiful rasta aquaintance of mine shouted for me to come play. I was far too shy.
OH. and the original uni-clam that is posted on Meags blog? It's a piece of graffitti in kensington. You can all see it. I kid you not. I just about screamed.

.but I know what to do

2006-09-13T14:44:00.000-07:00

My arms are a mess of bruises, only some of which I know the origins of.
1) yellow green bite mark from pub night. It was public...she was tipsy at the time.
2) strange purple bruises on the crook of my elbow: did any of you shoot me up in the night?
3) reddish dots of new bruising on my knuckles from mashing them on a metal garbage can by accident
4) blueish bruise on inner wrist from a tight cuff. Shady, kids, shady.
In other news, 1) Chris is sleeping on my floor. My room is small. I stepped on Chris a few times last night. Chris talks in his sleep, kicks things, and then moans about kicking them.
2) Ptown might not be doable this weekend. Lots of reading and photo needs doing. That, and the purchase of a fo' real african djembe, preferably from Guinea or Mali. I'll see, dudes and dudettes, keep your hopes up.

.after 1.5 hours of bored doodling, I give you...

2006-09-10T23:00:00.000-07:00

My rendition of the uni-clam.
Tomorrow, I would like to be holed up in my room for 24 hours, but I have djembe in the morning and a concert at night.
I stumbled upon a dessert tonight. I tried it on a whim, and I think I've discovered something wondrous. Ahem: mix
1 package butterscotch instant pudding
1.5 cups milk
.5 cup Bailey's Irish cream.
Pour into two bowls, refrigerate for 5 minutes and serve. OMGoodness.

. PB and Bacon...gastronomic sensation?

2006-09-06T22:37:00.000-07:00

Winters has always been one for runningjokes. I thought I'd never hear the death of Snakes on a Plane jokes, and that was like, nine months ago. Now, it's stingrays. Tonight, I was just having a pint, when I hear two theatre students arguing. Eventually, the most flustered one yelled
"You know what sucks worse than you, Aengus?" The entire table stopped to yell
"STINGRAYS!"
Saints preserve us. Or at least the frosh, cuz if that foolishness don't stop, I might axe somebody.
Also, was reading "Better Homes and Gardens" cookbook, my old school one from 1956. Want a few appetizers to impress all your friends? Give these a try, it'll be keen! (They're fo real)

Take 1lb crisp, cooked bacon slices. wrap a slice around a stewed prune stuffed with peanut butter. Fasten with a cocktail pick and serve.
Spread peanut butter on small squares of buttered toast. layer crisp, cooked bacon on top. Broil and serve.
*Pretzel Kababs* skewer one cube of pork/ham luncheon meat, one cube american cheese, and half a stuffed olive with a pretzel stick. Serve chilled.

I once was lost, but now am Founders

2006-09-03T22:16:00.000-07:00

Residence.
I'm moved in, my setup is sweet and cozy. My computer doesn't roar when I turn it on. Tomorrow I'll bring oreos for my neighbours. Chocolate is as good an icebreaker as any in a residence as large as this one. Right off the hop, I ran into all my friends. I dropped my stuff and helped them move in to Winters, and we had a great time catching up and muscling fridges up the stairs. Though the concept of a bunch of third and fourth year students running back into residence is alien to most trent students, Toronto rent prices makes many happy to do so. I've found it to be great for maintaining community in an otherwise big campus/big city kind of atmosphere.
I was welcomed back to the winters quad this evening by a skunk ambling across my path not ten feet from me. I'm sorry, but they are possibly the coolest nightlife on campus. They shuffle and whuffle so amiably.
I was a big dork for stressing about it all. Please be good to me and don't rub it in too much.
After a night of online haggling, my courses are as follows. I know Meags will envy me the first one.
-Cinema Quebecois
-Private Djembe lessons Yes, it covers a degree requirement...
-Moments in Canadian Art History
-Colour Photography
-BW Photography
-Workers' Organizations: the labour movement and democracy in Canada
I'd like to pick up another course, if I can find the time. It's a royal tossup between Medieval Stained Glass in context, the foundations of Christianity, The postmodern Body, and historical techniques. All of these courses are full at the moment, but I will continue to haggle for them. I can't stop checking.

.Why are pirates so awesome?

2006-08-22T07:15:00.000-07:00

Because they just ARRRRR! (courtesy of Lynn Bowerman)
Tomorrow I go to Toronto for job training. I predict feeling quite stupid, but no worries. I'll soon know the difference between screen printing chemicals in no time.
You know what's funny? I just got the email from York about my move-in dates etc. I know I've been complaining for a month about Founders, but I got a surge of excitement when I read the email. Perhaps it will all work out for the best.
Thanks for the great birthday party on the weekend, Rick. e won't forget mount scramble hill for a very longtime. OOH! and I climbed up to the top of a Cat! Like, the top of the claw arm! Topher saw.
Chris Jardin is lonely this week. Go hang out with the little dear.

2006-08-02T12:59:00.000-07:00

I'm home in a scant four days, so this is my last bush post. Here, in no particular order, are my planting top tens:

~ having the Most Hardcore Planting Injury Ever (incidentally, this item also made it onto the bottom ten). Last week at a bush party, I was sitting with a bleary eyed planter. The conversation went to my leg, and people wanted to see the scar. The bleary planter suddenly awoke and looked at me like I was a unicorn. "What? That was YOU? That HAPPENED? I thought they made you up to scare the rookies..."
~ funny french with the Quebecois: one of the checkers, a burly gentleman, was calling out the results of his plots to the foremen across the field. Obviously upset at the low results, he forgot his grammar. Instead of yelling "I have a three" He screamed "I am a TREE!"
~ the spruce boxes in Houston: the workers at the nursury must have loved planters. Every 30 spruce boxes or so would have a carefully wrapped chocolate bar tucked inside, or even a note saying to "have a wonderful day." Whenever it happened, the whole crew felt as if it had won the lottery.
~ the chai in Smithers: Oh, my word. I found the little hole in the wall that served it on the first day, and was tempted to never leave because of it. There will never be a chai to rival this chai. And yes, they served a soy chai version.
~ Ryan Press: an 11 year vet on my crew, reminds me very much of Carlo Raponi. Such a standup kind of guy, and taught me so much about being a planter.
~ being called a workhorse: woot, woot. I got that a lot, and I felt like such a keener (tee hee)
~The bambi moment: a little row of baby squirrels hopped up on a log in a line and chattered at me one day.
There are more, but i didn't bring my list with me. The number one on the list of treeplanting top tens?
~ coming home.

.sweat and countdowns

2006-07-28T14:18:00.000-07:00

I saw them. I saw the feral horses. They were on the road, all different col0urs. Swaybacked, mostly light bays. Small. Stocky. They reared at the vehicles.
I've been tossed from crew to crew this week, and now I've finally settled down with Colleen, my old foreman. It's a good thing, my crew rules. I have been working my butt off...the end is in sight, and I can't slow down near the end. There's no time to relax, it seems. I'm either working or preparing to work. I'd rather it this way, with filthy hair and tanned arms. Three kilometre walk ins to blocks with no access have been trying and good all at the same time. These blocks are through the forest, you can't get to them from the road. We've been bushwhacking all week. The one block last week was situated near some carcass of an animal, so we saw bears and lynx all day. I talk way too much about the wildlife, but it's probably less scary than telling y'all how many coffees it takes to get me going in the morning, so near the end of this season. Ten days left, guys, it's a fortnight til I see you.

.In alberta, beef rules.

2006-07-17T15:12:00.000-07:00

Though its not as bad as I thought. This one will have to be a ten minute post, but there's lots to tell. I'll post again tomorrow.
1) scenery is cool. Crystal blue glacier water, climbing mountains to plant, and helicopter blocks that will have me flying before 7 am.
2) planted 1800 trees one day this week. I lost an hour that day, so it would have been 2k. I have faith that its coming.
3) Im very, very, very dirty.
4) Tomorrow I book my flight black. expect me august 5th or 6th.
5) 2 degree mornings. May I never, ever leave the north, its so beautifully cold.
6) all planters are on a red alert constant lookout for cougars (more here than bears), and wild horses that are not mustangs, but feral inbreds that escaped decades ago from farms and have been dominating the bush ever since. Ten times more dangerous than moose.

. if you aren't at the game, you forfeit

2006-07-10T22:17:00.000-07:00

I'm going back to the bush tomorrow. No, really, I mean it. Wait, I might have jinxed it by saying that, if you believe in jinxes. I do not.
Therefore, we are entering into the countdown phase. This is the part where rick leaves a comment to the tune of "Come home now. Do iiiiit". But not quite yet, unless I get impaled by a stick through the torso, eye or neck region.
It'll be nice to get back into the bush, set up my tent, and start living like a bush kid again. This has been a nice go of it, though, PG is not without its charms. Especially driving the truck. Man, I like driving that truck.
So that's it, kids. Time to get dirty.

.chevy astro

2006-07-09T01:52:00.000-07:00

^ I just bid on eBay for one of those. I'm up too late, I'm twitchy, and I'm worried about my housing situation. I know I'm worried about my housing situation because I've spent the past hour formulating a fool proof plan to live in a vehicle...turns out that at York university, it's doable to the point of being practical. I've covered food, hygiene, adequate temperature maintenance, social accessability... With the exceptions of security and toilet facilities, it's no sweat, and the aforementioned issues can be surmounted by vigilant use of locks and location. I bet there's a club of hippies who just live on campus that way. Hell, I even looked up York parking regulations, and living in your vehicle is not prohibited.
I do this type of thing more than you'd imagine...make extensive plans for adverse/bizarre situations. I'm pretty much playing around, but it gets deep. Like,
-you're fourteen years old, you've just been kicked out of the house. You have a Sin card, warm clothing, and valid government ID. Using the resources alotted to you as a real person (ie, your human network, possible housing/food options) what do you do for your long and short term needs? OR
- You have been accidentally left in the woods. You have as much backwoods knowledge as the average citizen, and there is good cause to believe you will be picked up in the morning. What system of food and lodging do you conjure? In this case, it's
- you are a 20 year old university student with campus access to laundry, food, study/office areas, and health/financial resources. You do not, however, have access to adequate housing, nor is the budget available to rent an apartment. With the deadlines closing in and no hope of shelter in sight, what practical options do you have, for either short or long term?
So, uhh, I'd suggest that somebody find me an apartment soon. If living in a van is looking like a viable option, you know my situation is getting a bit off kilter. And if i come home with a $100.00 chevy astro, start looking up decorating books.

. I think I can.

2006-07-04T23:15:00.000-07:00

I'm staying up late on the net. I came across this photo, and I feel so strongly about it I'm fidgeting. I can't shake the feeling.
These are the foremen (and the camp supe) for my old company, A and M. The scowling gent at the top right is my old foreman Latimer, he's only 23.
I didn't do so great at this company. I tried, but in terms of numbers I was pretty dismal on the crew. This foreman...I would have chewed my arm off (no, really) to plant 2000 trees for him, because that was the only way to be someone to him. I would go back to that ugly company just to plant 2K for the people in that photo, so they'd look me in the eye and know that I could.
This year, my foreman (while drunk, it's the only time you can get true, valuable information from them about your personal worth) told me that I was the hardest worker on her crew. There was a thirdspace sermon once about Trying Really Hard. I think about it almost every day on the block. Look up the notes for it from ::Blondel.
I don't think I've ever worked harder at something. I'm getting my 2k next month, and I know I'm going to cry when I do. It's hard to explain, but there came a point last year when nobody in that photo believed I could do it anymore. It was just me, on the block sweating, and saying I think I can over and over. It's going to be a glory day when I do, finally.
Try really hard, guys. Try really, really hard.

.back to the bush (I pwn internets)

2006-07-04T14:09:00.000-07:00

Tomorrow I get released back into the wilds of hard labour. I plan to make $3000.00 next month, so I can come home with cash to burn. I'm hoping that if I work super hard, the time between planting and PTBO will go fast. Planting always does, though, regular time dies out there. We work too much for it not to.
Currently having the feminine debate on "To shave or not to shave?". My legs and armpits, that is. I've enjoyed being furry, but I can't wear long pants anymore, and I've dragged out a couple of tank tops. The truth is, I'm only a closet furry girl. When it comes to going out in public, I feel much more comfortable shaved. That said, I loathe stubble.
For anyone that misses me: It's only one month til I come home. Tell George Street I said hey. Prince George says hey, too.

.dem bush road, drive on.

2006-06-30T16:25:00.000-07:00

In about twenty minutes, I will be going camping. Yes, I will be going camping on a logging road. My mother thinks its hilarious. But I'm pretty stoked. I get to sleep in a trailer and eat veggie burgers, and apparently this trailer has plumbing. I don't even know if I can use plumbing with so many useable bushes nearby. that said, I still have a lot to learn about peeing outside. I managed to pee all over my suspenders last week, and had to wear them like that until they dried. If there was anyone around, I might have been ashamed, but there wasn't. And let's not even get into how many times I've accidentally peed on my boots. Those poor, poor boots.
I'm excited to fish, and if I can find the bloody USB port on this computer, you'll have a bunch of cool photos from the weekend. Happy Canada Day, everybody. Do something Canadian. For the love of goodness, making dirty beaver jokes doesn't count.

.sometimes, when I plant, I think about the internet.

2006-06-29T08:40:00.000-07:00

Left: Jake the camp supervisor at prework. Below:Peterborough native and dear friend Rachel, working in a terrible patch of devil's club. Above: Happy female highballer,
Lindsey.

Rick already got grilled for not blogging. You also need to blog too. This week off is basically the only time I can "surf" the web, the rest of the summer is slotted into once weekly, 15 minute increments in which I slam a few words into my blog, check my email, and maybe get to see two blogs before my hung over fellow planters start to growl at me.
But, oh, not this week. This week I'm on msn every twenty minutes, and the only thing growling at me is Maggie, the little ball of fur. And she wants a cookie, not the net.
The internet, as usual, has nothing happening on it, so make me happy and blog and post photos and keep me in touch with your day to day boring happenings.
Today I'm going to cruise in the truck and read High Fidelity by Nick Hornby. So there. Why don't you blog about it?

.a green shirt and a smile.

2006-06-27T12:50:00.000-07:00

Probably the first image you've seen of me all summer. I may have a dork facial expression, but I just got my hair cut so I feel all stylin'. In about twenty minutes, I'm going to go chase my employer down for information on workers compensation and how to get to Rocky Mountain House, Alberta. The summer plant is coming! I'm currently set up like a queen in my uncle's basement, and can't wait to take their little dog in the Ford F-350 downtown. My aunt and uncle were so excited to see me. My uncle said "My, this hard labour seems to have agreed with you..." My aunt just said "Oh, good god, girl, you're skinny." Screw skinny, people, I can lift you and your mom on my hips and plant you at perfect depth into mineral soil. Beat that, and drop me a line this week. I'll probably be on the internet for most of it....mmmm....the internet.....

.rest me well

2006-06-26T13:32:00.000-07:00

Well, meags is in BC, and so am I, with a week off In Prince George to recuperate after the Spring Contracts. Then Alberta, to Rocky Mountain House and ten cent land. Two splinters have worked themselves out of my leg, one the size of a matchstick from the front, and one 3.5 inches, last night from the back. It came out at the end of season house party at Hybrid, with much fanfare and a litany of awed cursing from the company's owner. My leg feels so much better. I kept the spinter, Im going to encase it in epoxy and make a pendant from it. I'm a dork that way.

So, meags, call me, and the rest of you, expect a call. I saw an elk on my land this week.

.if you go down in the woods today

2006-06-17T13:12:00.000-07:00

I finally saw a bear on my land this week. I was planting a tiny block (piece of land) that was, oddly, situated behind another block, so we had to walk through planted trees to get to it. The block consisted of some remote pockets, but remember, it was a wee block, maybe 3000 trees. So I'm planting, enjoying the cream, when I hear David the Quebecois call my name. I look over and between him and I is a BIG black bear. This buddy was no juvenile. I started shouting at it, but David called to me in french that the bear was perfectly calm and cogniscient that it was much bigger than us. Shouting did nothing. It just chilled and looked at us, and eventually lumbered off into the treeline. David planted with me for the rest of the day. We sang loud french music.
My leg is functional but weird. It bleeds every day when I work, and now that the swelling has gone down it's become obvious that the stick went in much deeper than I thought. The path of the stick angled upwards and inwards from the entry point, several inches. Eeeeep.
Last night my room was the party room, so I got not a wink of sleep. I need to go get some sweet, sweet chai and call my mom.

. and speaking of hardcore...

2006-06-12T12:44:00.000-07:00

Most of the readers of this blog know I've managed to get an injury. A big, fun one. My leg was impaled by a stick, leaving a hole the size of a nickel, in which you can see fat, muscle tissue, and good amounts of bruising. Nature bites back, baby.
At the time I got it, it was sort of funny. Realizing that the injury I got was not to be walked off (there was a blood ringed hole in my pants that made me look like a 'nam vet), I went back to the road and radioed my foreman for first aid. When after a half hour I reached her, I was a little unhinged.
"Colleen Smith? It's Shannon, Block 148, I need first aid."
"Oh, Shannon! Cool, just hop onto Andrew's land, he's got a big pocket at the back that needs planting."
"No! Colleen, I need FIRST AID, I impaled my LEG on a STICK, I am BLEEEDING."
"Shit! I'll be right there."
I heard the truck revving and I feared she was driving at the speed of light on a bush road. She threw the truck into park and jumped out.
"Oh man," she said, "That's a real good one, shan....you're gonna HURT tomorrow..."
So I'm super hopped up on T3s with codeine. When the pain is bad and I need to take two, I become unfortunately stoned. I didn't get into town in time for stitches, so the scar is going to be massive. The crew makes fun of my gymp status, but I know that at least three of them are scared of sticks now.

.oi!

2006-06-01T14:13:00.000-07:00

I was just sad to discover that my last week's blog post didn't make it onto the interweb...something must have screwed up. That means that a lot has happened that y'all haven't heard of, so sighs to that.
I just started the new contract in Houston, BC. I swear, every time I look up from planting I have a postcard shot to distract me. There are mountains everywhere. There are also bears everywhere, I'm averaging about three bear sightings per day. In fact, the logging camp I'm staying in had a major break-in by three large black bears. They destroyed the kitchen. But I'm not too worried, thats what happens when you're somewhere so remote. It's a two hour drive away from town on the bush road, and then you need to take a private barge across the lake to reach another road that takes you to the logging camp. The camp is basically a miniature city within a gravel pit, made of square low trailers, a portable gas station, and a rec room with a pool table, darts, foozeball and satellite TV. I've been appreciating the pool table.
Even better than all this (and I'm happy as a clam) is the fact that I'm finally making good money. I am planting in the thousands now, and it feels right. I can run around my land with ease. Unfortunately, this has taken a toll on my beloved boots, which are now more like sandals with spikes on the bottom. The past three days of work I've had my socks ripped open by slash...because of the holes in my boots which reveal my entire foot. Oh well, at least I can get the hardcore award.

.kalashnikov

2006-05-18T12:39:00.000-07:00

I know I've been direlict in my blog duties, so I planned it out this week to maximize my 15 available minutes online. I want to give you a taste of what I do out here, so here is my (ahem) daily routine. Read it and love it as much as I do.
6:00 am: alarm clock goes off. I mostly grumble at it.
6:20: roll out of my sleeping bags, throw on my work clothes, and crawl out of my little tent to greet the day.
6:30-6:45: grab breakfast, make lunch, throw my stuff in the back of the ford, and drink coffee.
7:00 am: leave for the block (clearcut)
8:00-5:15: plant! this is the part of the day where I sing songs, think of you guys, get angry, yell, and generally work. Insert weather here:)
6:00-7:00 pm: dinner. Glorious, glorious food. Last meal, the veggitree-ans got delicious tvp samosas, veggie curry, fresh naan, and spiced banana ice cream for dessert. Best part of the day.
7:00-9:00 pm: hang out with my crew, we swap stories, spin fire, drink, listen to good tunes, play bocce, construct dirt bike jumps, race boxes down gravel pits, hackey sack. I hang with the quebecois and do the above in french as well.
9:00 pm: I go to my tent. Usually I read for about thirty minutes, throw on two sweaters, two pairs of longjohns, wool socks, a toque, mitts, and two sleeping bags. Then I sleep like the dead to do it all again the next day.
On the subject of missing home: there is a girl from ptbo here. she wore a planet bakery shirt to work yesterday, and I did a happy dance. The shirt made my day, the dance made hers. Like a having a bit of home here all the time. hope home rocks on without me, guys.

.hello muddah. hello faddah.

2006-05-12T12:00:00.000-07:00

(here I am at camp grenada)
actually Im in the laundromat surrounded by coworkers. We'll keep it short.
Yesterday, hail, in big painful pellets. I had fun with it though, I was in the truck for the worst of it with my foreman and the crew highballer. The atmosphere was hazy. Afterwards, as the hail poured down on my Absinthe pub shirt, I kept clicking my boots together and yelling "there's no place like home".
Missing ptown. Loving the scenery. this week, I've seen baby bears, 2 moose, and two grouse(s). I was really excited about the grouse(s).

.tendonitis, you can't fight this.

2006-04-30T13:53:00.000-07:00

word. i have 15 minutes at the internet cafe...so, monosyllables.
1) food great. vegetarians spoiled rotten. cook adores the use of cashews.
2) land is good, familiar pains returning. lily white hands now poop brown.
3) two days back, camp blew down. Giant food tents sent sprawling over gravel pits. My tent miraculously stayed put.
4) all drivers smoke pot while driving down bush roads. high quality trucks mean roads are simply guidelines.
5) very cold at night. Rum not helping.
6) after a certian point, dirty hair gets so dirty its almost clean.

2006-04-24T00:42:00.000-07:00

She carry a torch for a brown-eyed boy (spring done come, I won't get none).
Summer come fast. She gone see that torch turn ash.

.over the river and through the woods

2006-04-23T23:12:00.000-07:00

Tomorrow I go into the bush, though apparently it's only, like, 20k outside of town. Remote? I think not. I'm having bad dreams of all my fellow planters laughing at me when I get there. They all point and laugh and bray like horses, because I packed too much. Now mind you, I think I did a better job of it this year than last. I have a good idea of what I need. Yet my bags weigh more than I :( grumble grumble fourmonthsworthofgeargrumblegrumble.
I will miss my aunt and uncle's hospitality (cultural studies students...GO!), their sweet dog, and their giant trucks (see pic) which I drove with red-neck relish, Global warming be damned. A quick stop to the BC Beer Co ensured that I will make friends tomorrow:). More bloggies in a week or so. Til then, about 10,000 trees.

.tis a fine game!

2006-04-22T11:22:00.000-07:00

Cribbage, that is. My uncle and aunt have taught me how to play, and I dare say it will give euchre a run for its money for "Shannon's top card games" list. I dreamt of good hands last night.
yesterday, my aunt brought me to the cool indie bookstore (every town needs one, speak volumes woot), and I bought 5 books. They are as follows:
-The Boat that Wouldn't Float ::Farley Mowat::
I first saw it in my grade six classroom, and now I'm appreciating it immensely. Farley Mowat may have been a useless drunkard, but he was funny when he wanted to be, and the book is so Canadian it reeks.
-Not Wanted On the Voyage:: Timothy Findley::
York theatre put this on as a play, and it was damn good. Depressing re-telling of the Noah's ark story. I was told by all the actors and production students to read the book or die. Canadian author, too.
-Call of the Wild/White Fang ::Jack London::
I loved Call of the Wild as a kid, read it over and over. The book I bought has White Fang in it as well, which I haven't read. Two birds with one stone, and set in the Yukon to boot.
-Itty Bitty Van Gogh Journal ::eventually filled by me::
obligatory journal for treeplanting, to keep daily tallies and document my descent from civilization. I read last year's journal from treeplanting, and its kind of scary. Like, once I did a four page all caps happy freakout because a wolf spider had killed the final mosquito in my tent, so I could sleep bug free. A wolf spider.
-Secret present for Meaghan ::Secret Local author::
Don't want to elaborate too much, but she'll like it. It's being sent out via Canada post on Monday.

.why don't you blog about it?

2006-04-20T12:11:00.000-07:00

I shannon, have a deep problem with buttons/technology. The furries <--- say so.
I didn't set off the alarm today (yet, it's only noon). So I excitedly have planned a lovely dinner for Alton when he gets home from work, since my aunt won't be home to cook. Beets, scalloped potatoes, cabbage, and tabouli salad. As I joked to Rick, it's "Irish peasant with a touch of lebanese".
Except that I couldn't find the car keys. They weren't on the counter. After a spirited search, I called my uncle, who promised to come in an hour and drop off the spare pair. Five seconds after I hung up the phone, I found the keys. In my pocket. Now don't I look foolish.
So, after I called him to cancel his emergency key drop (blush) I go out to the truck with great intentions of going to the store and picking up bulgur.
But the button to open the truck door won't work. It beeped at me malevolently, but the little lock won't open. So, I start cussing like a sailor, quietly so the neighbours wouldn't hear. I've been reading too much Tom Robbins, so I though of hitchhiking into town. Wimped out at the prospect of rape and rain.
My aunt Sandra calls. "Well, didja find the keys?"
"Yup, they were in my pocket"
"....oh, good."
"I can't make the button thingy work! I'm pressing the little grey button like you said and it's just beeping at me!"
"Did you hold the button down for 5 seconds?"
(blush)"Nope." So, problem solved, though my aunt wisely made me unlock the door while she was on the phone. Well, now I have two hours before dinner needs to be on, so I'll just run to the store. Hopefully won't hit a tree. There's lots of them here.

2006-04-19T11:33:00.000-07:00

I am currently in my uncle's house, beautifully situated on the Nechako river, surrounded by trees. My aunt kindly left me her car so I can galavant all day in Prince George. There is one problem: I'm afraid to touch the door knob to leave. You see, the house is alarmed. I was given the simple drill last night as to how to use it, and I figured I shouldnt have a problem. So I went outside today, coded my password, went to the garage. Touched the doorknob, and the alarm went off. Loudly. I ran back in, coded the password to make it stop. Alarm company calls, I give them a passcode. I thought that was it. I made my way outside, passcoding all the way, and nothing happened for twenty minutes. Then from the riverbank, I hear an earsplitting alarm. I run back, and passcode ten times to get back in, and eventually shut the alarm off. I The neighbours came. "Who are you? I'm calling Alton" said one neighbour. My uncle explained.
But the alarm company hasn't called yet, and I think that means the cops are coming. Prince George might have to wait until someone opens the door for me.

.No sleep, go for days without sleep.

2006-04-14T01:33:00.000-07:00

I'm on a brief internet break from packing. I'm almost done, I just need to do and pack my dishes, move my treeplanting gear out of my closet, and give the room the final once over. The computer will be dissembled last, its glow is soothing.
I've done the most gruelling all nighter I could conceive of. It has lasted since Monday at 8 am. So, by the time I get to bed Friday evening (though I'll likely nap in the car), I'll have been up for 110 hours, having stayed up for four consecutive all nighters. There are only 168 hours in a week. I've made joking predictions before about going days without sleep to finish schoolwork. This time I've really done it. No, I'm not hallucinating. Yet. I'm in an good mood though.
More posts tomorrow. My photo journal isn't done yet.

.all these people drinking lovers spit

2006-04-09T20:12:00.000-07:00

I'm beginning my final and grievously hectic week at York U. It's all good. I may not sleep, but it will get done.

This weekend, was at home. I'm really starting to feel wistful for a missed Peterborough summer. I didn't realize how much I'd grow to love my friends, or my hometown. Here's hoping for a great planting season that ends in the beginning of August. In the meantime, send me your addresses, and you'll get unique postcards with harrowing tales of gun weilding camp bosses, duct tape being used in place of any other medical intervention, and nice views. It will be great, just please don't forget me.

music: Robot Hero//Tujiko Noriko

.there's a man in my room

2006-04-03T17:37:00.000-07:00

My bed is now occupied by a sleeping guy named Alex. I know him from theatre class. Today I was called from the CASA office for a "rez emergency". I found out that the emergency was Alex, who lives on the fourth floor. He has severed a ligament in his knee and basically can't walk. Let alone make it to the fourth floor. He injured himself after office hours closed, so a guest room couldn't be found. So, he is staying in the first floor with me tonight. I got him two bags of frozen corn so he can ice his leg. He's quite friendly. I'm grateful that God dumped this injured guy in my bed...rarely does one get the opportunity to fulfill a need so easily.

.summer reading list

2006-04-01T19:24:00.000-08:00

She carry a torch for a brown-eyed boy
Spring done come, I won’t get none
And June don’t last, She gone see that torch
Turn ash.

Know a good book? I'm compiling my summer reading list. You have a mission...tell me the title/author in the comments, and I'll buy it, read it treeplanting, and think of you.