I've just skipped two classes this morning and am on my way to being late for my third. I should feel bad but I don't. Lately school has been uninteresting to me. The only exceptions are painting classes (which I won't be skipping my third class today).

Lately when people ask me how I'm doing or what's new in my life all I can manage is a blank stare. Maybe a shrug. Nothing. There is nothing pressing that is calling for my attention. I'm just going to work and going to class. Do homework when something is due. Otherwise, I don't really know "what's up". I'm not unhappy. In fact, I'm rather satisfied. But it feels like I'm waiting. Waiting for things that get me excited. I know enough about life to know that these things don't just happen unless you make them happen. So I guess what I'm waiting for is freedom from school.

My parents believed in early childhood education. Either that or they believed in a dual income which resulted in the chilluns being put in some sort of daycare. Essentially, I've attended some sort of learning institution since I was about four years old. So that's around 18 years of people trying to teach me stuff. And don't get me wrong, I love school. I love learning and being exposed to new ideas. But I am done. I need to learn outside of the safety of school. I want to see things.

So yeah, I have no fucking clue what's ACTUALLY going to happen when I graduate... So I guess I'm waiting to figure that out and waiting for the freedom to just do it.

Faced with a future with no employable skills (asides from making a damn good cappuccino) I've had to evaluate what my priorities are. Not money, partly because I will never have any and partly because I think I'll be just fine without an accumulation of stuff. I don't want to be just satisfied. I don't want to go about my daily routine just because there's nothing else to do. I don't want to do the same thing for the rest of my life.

This is falling apart into a rant. Really, I mostly updated because a few people have mentioned that I haven't in a while and I remembered how it sometimes gives me direction.

Well see.

I MUST EXPLODE.

I feel as though I have a tremendous amount of frustrated energy in me right now. Sort of like I've been in everyone's periphery for a while and I just need to yell in their faces to make myself feel better. I'm trying to channel this in a more productive way but I'm not sure how. So far all I've come up with is drinking beer and watching The L Word.

BOOM.

L is for loner.

David and I's one year anniversary passed by quietly about a month ago. We're happy, in love and I think we've built a solid relationship. This summer it seemed that I spent so little time at home that our living situation never really sunk in. Now that I'm back in school and David's working full time, I feel that I've had a taste of "real life" living together. I haven't regretting moving in together even for a second especially since I don't think our schedules could be any less synched (ie- Im in bed 2 hours before he even gets home and I'm out of the house at least 4 hours before he wakes up). Basically we've learned to make the most of the few hours every few days were our paths cross (you think I'm exagerating don't you....).

Anyways, all this means that I basically have the apartment to myself in the evennings. This is brand new. Never in my life have I ever had this much alone time. Turns out Im not terrible at organizing myself when it comes to school, but without people around I have no personal restraint. I eat terribly and spend money irresponsibly. Im messy and lazy. It's also really easy for me to become a complete shut in. It's something I fall into naturally and comfortably. If it weren't for work I don't think I'd talk to anyone on a regular basis other than David and whats worse it wouldn't really bother me. I miss Viki for that reason (yeah, you. You're sitting in Halifax right now feeling all smug because you got personal mention. Don't let it get to your head). No other person has consistantly poked and prodded me (some might say incessantly...) into becoming a more open and sociable person. Even now, she's the one calling me (I know, I know... I should call you. IM SORRY) So now, without someone to force me out of the house, I find myself uninterested in making the first step to socialize.

I can't help it. If I find myself with a night off with no homework, my first impulse is to go read at a bar with a pint. Or pick up sushi (delicious, delicious sushi... [re: irresponsible spending]) and watch a movie in bed. With beer. Or go see a movie alone. I love spending time with my friends, but unless someone else goes through the trouble or organizing it, I'm just as happy to spend time alone.

So there. If anyone ever wonders why I don't call them, this is why. I'm too busy being a loser.

From the cross streets of St-Urbain (the beer) and Sherbrooke East (the street).

I've always been one of those people who have considered their sketchbook to be open to anyone who wishes to see it. I think that it might be a fault. Tonight I sat down (after a beer or two....or three) and decided to sketch. I am ashamed to admit that I've barely done so all summer. Increasingly I've noticed (read: in the past year it has become glaringly obvious) that all my artwork is "safe". In the back of my mind I have always pictured myself showing it to my parents, or worse, my grandparents. Nothing I've ever done has ever crossed that invisible "parent-acceptable" line I seemed to have set myself. It's not that I've consciously denied a certain vision to myself, it's more that it's never been within the realm of possibility somehow.

So tonight I told myself that I would just draw as though the only person who would ever see that sketches were me. And guess what. I will never EVER show them to my grandparents. It's not that I have some urge to prove that I'm daring or shocking. It's more that these are the things that are one my mind. The drawings felt more like journal entries done entirely for my satisfaction. These are some of them, please excuse the total shit pictures.

Not what about these is so bad? These pictures are such shit that you probably can't read the text, and that's okay. They add, but they aren't necessary. Ordinarily I would deny that these had anything to do with my personal life but that's a lie. They clearly aren't autobiographical but they didn't come from nowhere. I normally dislike artwork that is essentially a messy outpouring of personal emotion on the grounds that it is so personal that it nearly impossible to criticize so what the point of showing it? But thats not what these are. And that's not why I'm reluctant to post these.

So what ideal am I protecting? Who am I protecting? Myself? My family?

I dunno, I feel like I'm on to something but maybe I'll forget by the morning.

I decided to keep the Starbucks job. When it comes right down to it I like the job. It's a selfish decision. My coworker (who buys hook line and sinker the Starbucks Ideals) told me that as long as I'm working there, I might as well make the most of it. No experience is a waster and that what Im counting on. Oh, and I'll make lots of money. I'm a sellout. So deal with it.


David isn't home yet... where is he?

Thoughts one, two and three

One! Today I had a good day at work at Starbucks. The more I try and talk myself into hating the place (re:last night's post) the more I get settled in an comfortable. Such is life.


Two! Montreal tap water is not as bad as the water from some other cities. But I have bee spoiled by Brita filters and can't bring myself to find gross city water enticing. But I found the solution: lots of ice and a lime wedge. Hides the taste. I rock.


Three! Recently I've been realizing that this is my last year in university and could potentially (but not likely) be my last year in school, ever. I think the realization stems from the standard where-are-you-from-and-what-do-you-do conversation with people you are forced to socialize with (ie- work). When it comes up that I'm in my last year of a BFA, the response is invariably : "so what are you going to do afterwards" to which I generally respond with a goofy one sided grin and a shrug of the shoulders as though such worldy dilemas were not of my concern because I am free like the wind and would gladly become a pirate and sail the seven seas (I don't know which ones. Do they mean ocean? Are there seven ocean.... ?) or perhaps sell all my wordly posessions and buy a motorcycle in france and ride it through the Alps. While I like option A, option B is slightly more realistic (only slightly). Either way, I wish I could convince my brain that a grin and a shrug is enough of a solution when it comes to the rest of my life, but it has been midly troubling. I'll just leave it at that for now.

2 months later... (actually, it's more like 4)

*** I wrote this first part a little over a month ago and then promptly forgot about it***

How embarrassing to have such a depressing post on my blog for so fucking long. (disclaimer: I've just spent 5 weeks in the woods with people who feel that no sentence is properly expressive without some sort of profanity. Please excuse the fucking profanity. Fuck.)

So shit... a bunch of stuff has happened. Anyone who matters (ZING! to all those who don't) know the important stuff: moved out of the Coloniale place, will be moving in with David come July and just got back from another treeplanting session.

While treeplanting wasn't really the ridiculous adventure it was last year (and last year was pretty fucking ridiculous) it did have it's moments. Mostly though it was just a job. A job where you get cold, wet, dirty, hot and severely bug bitten everyday and have nothing to look forward to but a tent and another day of your own personal hell tomorrow. Actually, I probably already knew this, but treeplanting kind of sucks. Nevertheless I'm glad I went. Sort of.


***Okay, now we can cut to real time***

So the move has happened, we're more or less settled, yadda yadda yadda. I won't bore you all with an itemized list of everything that has happened since my last post, but I will say that despite what I wrote a month ago, I could have done without a treeplanting repeat. I'm considering sabotaging myself for next summer by not taking a full courseload thereby forcing me to take a summer class. Not to mention I'd have a bit more spare time.

I'm working two jobs these days. I'm still participating in all that sucks about capitalism while working at Starbucks and on weekends I work at easygoing, family-run, neighbourhood favorite poutine and hamburger place. Guess which I like better. Guess which one offered me a promotion. Here's a hint: the anwser to both is different.

Before working at Starbucks I rarely, if ever, went there. It just so happened that I was flat broke and they were the only people to contact me. So, I swallowed my pride and put on the green apron. Thing is, I kind of like the job. It keeps you busy, I like working with people, I get free drinks.... but its STAR-FUCKING-BUCKS. It bothers me that I put in effort in my job and the people who reap the benefits don't even know I exist. The most that can be said is that the work I put in saves my manager from a heandache. The fact that their entire business plan goes against everything I look for in life doesn't help either. Their entire goal is that for 3 minutes of your day, you will be welcomed as though you have stepped your second home and be served exactly what you want by your endlessly smilling barista. And then you can fly halfway around the world and have the exact same experience. God forbid your soy latte tastes different in montreal than it did in New York. It's the same soy milk, it's the same esspresso; Starbucks makes sure of it. It is the product of a society that doesn't like surprises and certainly could not stand the thought of dissapointment.

The sheer amount of waste is enough to make you want to puke. We don't re-steam milk, which means that once it's been steamed once and then goes cold, it gets tossed. If ever you order a drink that only takes one shot of esspresso, you should feel good knowing that a second shot was poured at the same time and that it in all likelyhood went straight down the drain. You see, someone somewhere figured out that if you pour single and a double shot the quality will be different, therefore we should just always pour a double shot, no matter what. Again, god forbid your espresso tastes different. I won't even go into the fact that less than 6% of their coffee sales is fair-trade or organic. I don't know enough on the subject to sound convincing, all I know is that by anyone's account, they're kind of assholes.

So. Despite all this, why the fuck do I still work there. Good question.
-Like I said, I like the job itself. I don't dread going in to work.
- I need money. Treeplanting was far less lucrative than I would have liked.
- I have enough flexibility to work at Ma'am Bolduc, which despite its awesomeness, doesn't give me enough hours (re:money issues).
-Free coffee. This isn't a real reson, but it's still nice.
-I've convinced myself that it's temporary and I'll quit when school starts.

Recently I was offered a promotion at Starbucks, "if I was interested". So am I interested? Once again, good question. It comes with a raise significant enough for me to not automatically dismiss it. It also brings extra responsibility (not a lot, but some which is a start) which I would really like. And last but not least, it's right next to school so it's really convieniant.

Damn, I just ranted on for a really long time about work. Despite how boring this is to all of you, it was good to put it all in writing. It kind of puts everything into perspective. No doubt I'll be mulling this over all for a while to come. But for now, I have to head back to work (again).

Either way internetz, it has been too long. I forgot how writing helped sometimes.

Everybody hurts.

I always knew that this day would come.

Today it hit me that after 2 years in one of the best art schools in the country all that I've learned is why, specifically, I'm not a good artist, if I can even call myself that. Realizing this was so painful that it suddenly occurred to me how important it is to me. Is that irony?

I'm trying to think of something to say that isn't horribly self defeating and I'm having a hard time. All I can think of is the blank faces of people who couldn't care less about my work, of how embarrassing it is to continually show the same junk to my classmates, of how all I can think of is how unimpressive everything I do is and how I have no idea how to even begin changing that. Yes my friends, this is self pity. This is the realization that 4 years of hard work has done nothing but provide me with the tools to realize that I had accomplished nothing. So yeah, I'm going to indulge for a bit.

I cried today. There, I said it. I didn't think I'd write it here but I did. I cried so fucking hard.

This isn't the time for token words of support. They are completely meaningless here. I don't want to insult people by telling them I don't believe them but... in this context I just won't. Not to mention the fact that I would rather people say nothing at all than say something they don't believe.

So tomorrow I'm going to sign up for next year's classes and I'm going to try and ignore the fact that I am simply at a loss.

Ready for a break....

I can't explain how badly I want to stay in bed today.

*EDIT* It suddenly occurred to me that the solution to this problem is staying in bed... How easily solved!

From irresponsible and broke to employed in 36 hours!

Well folks, that's it. No more need for school, I have made it in the world: I am exactly what Starbucks is looking for.

Noteable parts of the interview:

"So why do you want to work at Starbucks in particular?" ---uh.... I don't? Because you're the only ones to have called me back?

"What's your relationship with coffee?" ---I drink it. It keeps me awake.

"Are you okay with starting work at 6:30 am?" ----.....That doesn't sound like something I would describe myself as being "okay" with.

"Are you comfortable telling white lies in order to sell coffee you don't particularly like?" ---Well, that's what I've been doing for the whole interview so why the fuck not.

"What is something you are proud of yourself for" --- Holy shit the bullshit I came up with on the spot in order to get this job!

Seriously guys, I was awesome. No one has ever bullshat their way into a job so spectacularly. She actually said that I was "exactly" what she was looking for.

I am SUCH a tool.



PS- immediately after getting the call for an interview I applied for treeplanting.

Because if it's on the internet it's true.

Well that was stupid. I feel like a failure and an idiot today. Last night is a blur. It is fitting that the last thing I clearly remember is a giant tray of shots being brought to the table.

I will say this clearly: I will not drink for a long while. Fuck it. I like to think that I can drink responsibly but clearly I cannot so I'll just make things easier on everyone and just NOT drink at all.

I wish I could ctrl-Z significant parts of last night. Why didn't I stay in and write an essay like I'd planned? oh right, because I'm an irresponsible failure. FUCK, I AM SO ANGRY AT MYSELF.


FUCKING IDIOT.

Of Valentine's day and One-Dimentionality.

First: I hate Valentine's day. (PS- I started this rant on Valentines day and finished it today)

I was going to give my Valentine's day rant in Cindy's lj comments but I figured you all deserved a part of my wisdom (hah). First off, I think people should take any moment they can to tell their loved ones how much they care. That being said, if someone choses to celebrate Valentine's day by being all googly eyed and in love, that's cool. I support love. My problem with Valentine's day is that it encourages artificial displays of affection. Not encourages, EXPECTS. It makes people do things that they otherwise wouldn't or wouldn't do in that way. I'm not going to lie, if someone buys me something expensive or even just nice and thoughtful I'll probably be happy. I'll be excited to think that someone thought I was worth these gifts (heh... "worth". what a twisted concept). But those things don't mean a thing in the long run. I feel like I'm pointing out the most obvious facts on relationships but it's true. What does someone buying gifts have to do with a relationship? The gift of objects don't amount to a thing when building a relationship. If you must celebrate Valentine's day, and I understand that there are some romantics out there who do, don't buy the other person a damned thing. I dunno, I feel like it would cheapen the moment. Honestly? whatever. Hah. I'm so articulate. (and I didn't even go into a rant as to how the big V day made people without someone to share the day with feel. That's a whole other story.)

But really, that was just a rant that popped up today. On to painting! So my drawing teacher, probably the art teacher I have the most respect for to date in my university career, offered to look over my painting to date in order to give me some direction if I wanted it. Which I did. He said many things which can all be summarized to: my work is one-dimensional. Both visually and conceptually. He said it in the most helpful way and to be quite honest, nothing he said really surprised me since I'd suspected it of my work for a while. I'd just never fully articulated or acknowledged it.

So. What does one do when one finds out that a year and a half of work is... well... wrong. That it just doesn't work. That it lacks something crucial to make it interesting. Well, I considered self pity, and some could argue that that's what this whole post is, but I disagree. I generally know when I'm being self-pitying (see: PITY FEST 2008) and I think this is more me verbalizing how I feel and what I'm going to do about it (also because I like making fun of myself and I'll probably be calling myself "one-dimensional" for the next few weeks [because I get a kick out of it] and I don't want to explain the joke every time) . I considered that maybe I just didn't have "it", that thing that makes good artistic geniuses. That inner something special that makes great artists. But I know that that's just bullshit (I'm so Po-Mo [that one's for the art kids out there!]). Honestly, I think good art comes through hard work. You can't just coast your way through it, which is so far what I think I've been doing. Maybe. Basically I've sort of made a commitment to myself to take it more seriously.

In an effort to encourage me by showing me painting that I could learn from, my drawing teacher gave me the name Jonathan Lasker. A quick google search will give you an idea of who he is. In all honesty, I'm completely in love with his painting. Not every single one but there are some that just make something click in my head. So I think that that's what I need to do. I need to find more painters that are doing stuff that really connects with me. I'm sure I sound like a pretentious art fuck but that's how it goes.

PITY FEST 2008 (not really) (ok... yeah really)

I'm not sure if I officially mentioned that I applied for the winter/spring 2008 season (because my life isn't official until I blog about it. Hold on while I puke.) While I never had high hopes, partially because my application wasn't that hot and partially because... well.... I suck (PITY FEST 2008). Basically they have had 2 shows since we got back and I've gotten no email. At this point I'm pretty much resigned to applying again next year. I've taken to checking the VAV Gallery website a few times a week to see if they have updated this semester's schedule. I don't think I'll feel it's official until I see it. I suppose the mature thing to do would be to email them but.. uh... yeah... I'm totally a child.

Last weekend when I was back at home I ran into Mark Glassford and we got to chatting. Random, I know. I am now going to take a completely narcissistic view of the conversation. What I came to realize is that I really have no clue what the hell I'm talking about, ESPECIALLY when it comes to art. I just start talking and random words come out that sound like they COULD go together and as I say them out loud I slow down as I realize that I had no plan of action with what I was saying. Then I stop speaking and I frown. This is usually when the person I'm talking to smiles at me and I smile sheepishly back and we both have a good ole' chuckle at Emily, because she doesn't actually know whats going on. Seriously, when it comes to explaining why I do what I do in painting or drawing or whatever, I can't even take myself seriously. I feel like this is something I should have thought of. Something I should be able to discuss and debate, instead of getting confused after a few sentences. (PITY FEST 2008)

Later on in the weekend I went out for a beer with my friend Ben. Ben is in a cartooning program at UQO but from the sounds of it seems to be getting a well rounded studio arts education. He asked me in all earnestness if I ever had any problems with people stealing my ideas. Ben is a talented guy and apparently he's had problems with people helping themselves to his ideas. I couldn't help but laugh. Honestly, I can't imagine ANYONE taking my "ideas", if you could call them that. Classmates say to me in conversation "oh yeah, you do abstract, right?". I "do" abstract. Apparently it's what I "do". What does that even mean? So what, is that like my "thing"? People say it like it's a dirty word too. That and collage (that one's for you Rhonda). Seriously though.... I do abstract. URGH. WHAT DOES THAT MEAN??? WHAT AM I DOING??? (PITY FEST 2008) Sorry, but sometimes people need a bit of virtual space to have a meltdown. I spend more time thinking about painting than I do painting. That just occurred to me. Does that even mean anything?

Fuck why is it that all I ever talk about is myself?

(end PITY FEST 2008, SEE YOU IN 2009)

Too personal?

The Gimp says:
I think you are naturally predisposed to being uneasy when you admit that you are in love with someone.
The Gimp says:
and you is the universal
The Gimp says:
you are basically telling them that you are now leaning on them a little bit
The Gimp says:
and you know that if they don't lean back the "free standing" marvel that the two of you create topples.
The Gimp says:
better put
The Gimp says:
he can hurt
The Gimp says:
you
The Gimp says:
really bad
The Gimp says:
just by saying that he's changed his mind
The Gimp says:
but the thing of it is
The Gimp says:
I don't think you would feel that way about someone without them feeling it back.
The Gimp says:
and this time the you is more specific



Gee Alex, when did you get so smart?

One small step...

This is my newest in progress painting. In progress means not done. Surprisingly, I think it looks better in photograph than it does it person. For one the colours are better here; the blue are slightly more purple-y on the original. Once again, I have mixed feelings about it. That is all.

My Stomach Has Something to Say.

Tomorrow will be my first day back at school. I am both looking forward to it and am slightly concerned. For the past week I have accomplished absolutely nothing (other than reading which I guess is something) and have rarely left the house. Since I finished school I have not picked up a single drawing or painting tool and what's worse is that I haven't wanted to. I'm hopeful that my return to school will kick start my productivity but I'm also worried that it won't. In fact, I'm REALLY worried that I'm slowly losing interest in doing what I thought was what I wanted to do for the rest of my life. I am terrified that I am slowly realizing that what I previously fondly called my "bullshit degree" (with self-deprecating good humor) is becoming not quite so fond-feeling-inducing.... (yeah, I totally make sense).


Basically I'm afraid that all along I was a directionless fuck-up just waiting until the art novelty wore off.

But also... and I'm almost afraid of saying this out loud in case I might jinx it... The classes I've been most looking forward to are academic and have little or nothing to do with my major. Next year, once I realize that I'm in my final year of my BFA (and we all know what that stands for) I am going to have a major crisis. The Who Am I? What Am I Doing? Where Am I Going? kind of deal. Right now I just keep convincing myself that I time to figure it out.

Happy Holidays

So a lot of people have been asking me how my christmas/holidays were and I don't really know what to tell them. I don't really want to be repeating myself constantly so this is it. Basically it was both fantastic and heartbreaking. All the good stuff like spending time with David's family in London and being home with my family was somewhat dampened by the news that my uncle has cancer.

He found out a week before christmas and then learned that it has spread to his brain. Just letting you know now that unless I bring it up, I don't really want to talk about it. I'm just sort of getting this out now. He is my uncle through marriage to my aunt and they have only been married for about 5 years. He's a really great guy and I like him a lot but I don't have much of a connection with him. So as much as I'm sad for him, I'm mostly upset for my aunt. She has had a tough live and she is probably the strongest person I have ever met. They seem so happy together; they were going to retire, sell their house and move into a cottage that they just bought. It breaks my heart that she's going to have to do it all alone. I know I've lead a privileged life and I don't have any close experience with death. So far I've mostly just avoided thinking about it.

My uncle was a smoker most of his life and quit recently. He is also a carpenter who has worked countless construction jobs involving god knows what kind chemical dusts (he knows he's worked with at least two kinds of asbestos). He's in his 60s now so when he started in the construction business asking for any kind of protection was like asking to be fired. Whether it's the smoking that has caught up with him or the unsafe working conditions or a combination of both, no one can know.

I think that's all I have to say about that for now.... SEGWAY

The thing with smoking is that no one is a saint. I'm not going to tell the people I love that I don't care if they smoke (when I say smoke I mean any kind smoke inhalation) because I do. But it's their lives and I don't particularly want people questioning my choices so I'm not going to question theirs. I do plenty of things that aren't good for me, including the occasional smoking and I'm not looking for people to make me feel guilty about these things. I make myself feel guilty. So if you want to smoke cigarettes every day or weed or hukkah, I'm not going to make you feel guilty. That's your choice. You know how unhealthy it is as much as I do. But I don't give you my blessing. If you ask me what I think I won't pretend that I'm cool with it. I will tell you that it upsets me. But that's if you ask me. Otherwise it's part of your life and I will not butt in. I'm not your mother, I won't nag or lecture or try to make you feel bad. While I can't respect the choice I can respect that the choice is yours to make. There, I think that is the most concise way to put it.
Like I said, no one, especially myself, is a saint. One day you will in all likely hood see me smoking weed or a hukkah. I try and convince myself that these are rare occasions but I know it happens more often than I would like. And while I don't feel particularly guilty it's not something that I take much pride in either. I guess in my mind there's a difference between a once and a while thing and an everyday thing. But that is my VERY VERY biased opinion. I don't know what I'm saying anymore. This isn't an attack on anybody. This is basically a "you do what you want and I'll do what I want" kind of deal.

So that's that.

Really, I had quite a nice vacation despite my uncle (mostly by just not thinking about it). I got to eat plenty of amazing food, spent lots of time with David, see my family and it was generally pleasant. I do however feel like I spent most of the time traveling... I calculated something like a little over 30 hours on the road. UGH.

Yeah, I think this post is long and depressing enough. I hope you guys all had lovely breaks filled with good food and hugs.