.ween!

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!

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

"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

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.

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.

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

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.

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.

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

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.

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

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

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

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.

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.

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

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.

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.

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!

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.