Greatest Monday EVER

I woke up this morning the same way I always do: My alarm went off, and after some struggling to find my arms beneath the blankets I hit the snooze button and went back to sleep. Nine minutes later, my alarm goes off. I hit the snooze button and go back to sleep. Nine minutes later, my alarm goes off. I hit the snooze button and go back to sleep. Nine minutes later, my alarm goes off. I flick the button over to radio, but my clock is being testy again and doesn't pick up the station. So I lie in bed and stare at the ceiling, slowly inching my feet out from beneath my cozy duvet so the cold floor won't seem like such a shock. Then, with the world's most heartfelt sigh, I ease my way out of bed and hit the showers (where I wash my hair AND my face twice, because I can't remember which cleansing rituals have already been completed).

Then, clean and dry and wrapped in a big fluffy towel, I turn on my computer to check my email. But this morning differed from others in one glorious way. Awaiting me in my inbox was a notification of the one thing every student (even us ancient grad students) wait the entire year to hear....

SNOW DAY.

Classes cancelled, assignments put off, SNOW DAY.

Of course the first thing I do is call my Mom to brag about my luck, and revel in the fact that I can go back to bed for awhile. And go back to bed I do... not sleeping, but watching a full 3 episodes of Gilmore Girls on DVD and letting my mind slowly wake up the proper way.

Then, after sufficient time had passed and I felt it was time to actually start my day, I hazarded a peek out the window, to see this incredible environmental saviour that caused classes to be cancelled.

And what, may you ask, did I see?



An inch of snow. ONE. FULL. INCH.

As one friend put it, "An inch of snow and the entire city shuts down? What a Toronto thing to do..."

Poor Chazz, he probably thought coming south meant never having to say "I'm freezing". Too bad I left my snow brush in Ottawa...



I don't think the holly-like bush outside my front door liked it too much either. But it sure does look purdy!



And now, my friends, I am off to spend the remainder of my snow day trying to catch up on homework assignments and study for the two midterms I write this week.

Oh, and to practice my "interpretive talk" for my job interview tonight... wish me luck!

Child-Robyn's Dream Come True

So I was sent to cover an event today for the communications department, and when I walked into the room I nearly fainted with delight. The room was full of 1500 brand-spanking-new books. Shiny, colourful, wonderfully-gloriously-new-smelling children's books.

Child-Robyn would have died on the spot out of sheer joy.

(You can find more info about the event on my school blog... it'll be up within a few days)

Down for the count

I've been out with a major headache all day, either due to the weather or the chloroquine (apparently nausea and headaches are the main side effects).

Makes paper-writing really fun.

A Day of Health

So today I went and got all my travel shots and meds that I need for Costa Rica, and have officially started taking my chloroquine (anti-malarial drug). Now all I have to do is finish up all the crap I have to do school-wise in the next few days (which, trust me, is A LOT), pick up my Costa Rican colons (the currency there) on Tuesday, and I'm almost set to go....

Gawd I need a break.

"Chloroquine Spill"

A Photo a Day Keeps the Crazy Away....

I've never been the kind of girl who made or kept New Years resolutions.... but I have always observed Lent. When I was little, I consistently gave up chocolate, chips, pop, gum... whatever my vice happened to be that year. But as the years progressed, there seemed to be less and less to give up. I don't really eat candy, I rarely eat chips, I don't drink pop at all, I've stopped chewing gum for the most part (unless it's to keep me awake during especially boring classes... then I'll pop a piece). Really, my only vices right now are lattes and peanut butter (not together. Ew.), and I can't really give up either one of those, since lattes are my back-up source of calcium and peanut butter is my back-up source of protein. (Yes, I need to grocery shop more often.) So, this year instead of giving things up for Lent, I've decided to make goals instead.

Which brings me to the point of this posting. My goal for Lent is to spend a little time each day with my camera. Each day, I will produce a photo/photo series/photoshop disasterpiece for your general enjoyment, and my overall sanity. This is me forcing myself to take time away from the stress of school, and do something that I actually enjoy and makes me feel saner. I'm convinced school is killing my creativity, so this is me rebelling.

I will not go gentle into that good night. Rage, Rage against the dying of the light! (Thank you, Dylan Thomas)

So, with no further ado, here is my first photo series:

"A Study in Sweet Hearts"







Keep checking back, I'm going to try and keep up with this photo-a-day thing... there will be a brief hiatus from March 6-15th while I head to Costa Rica, but expect more photos after that!

Oh, and I'll be cross-posting to Facebook if you want to keep an eye on my images there.

$10.50's Worth 1000 words?

I have a problem.

Well, I don't really see it as a problem... but my bank account/time management troll (the little guy I keep employed in my daily planner) may disagree.

My problem? My hobby is becoming a bit of an obsession.

I've realized that when I travel anywhere, I carry at least three cameras with me. Four, if you count the fact that my cell phone also takes pictures. Basically, I have my big fancy DSLR, which I love to death, plus the lenses and hot-shoe flash. I also carry a digital point-and-shoot, for those times when I want a fast photo instead of playing with lighting and all the fun dials on my big camera. And, just in case I feel a picture just isn't quite enough, I have my Flip-cam for taking videos. To go along with these, I have a full-sized tripod and a mini gorilla-pod, plus a few other miscellaneous accessories.

But the real problem? I WANT MORE.

Tonight I was a few minutes away from winning a vintage Praktica Super TL3 camera with accessories on ebay, with a bid of $10.50.
It was something I bid on purely on a whim, and mostly because it was such a great deal... I mean, a vintage 35mm SLR, in working condition, that comes with 2 lenses, a flash, and other miscellaneous attachments?? That's what we call a STEAL. I even went so far as to check out what batteries it needed, where I could get them, and how much they would cost ($5.95/battery... not too bad). It came down to the last 10 minutes of the sale, and it totally looked like nobody else was going to bid... there were only 3 of us involved in the original bidding, and they both stopped at $10. So there I was, picturing opening the box, pulling out my new toy, loading some film, and having the time of my life. Maybe I'd try to sign up for evening photography classes on campus so I could develop my own film... and then I'd hone my darkroom skills and learn how to create different photo effects while developing the shots... and then my photos would be so good that somebody who turned out to be the owner of a small independent gallery would randomly see them, beg me to show at their gallery, and my photography career would be well on its way to getting started....

But while I was busy planning out the rest of my creative life, I stopped paying attention to the auction... and in the last 5 minutes missed 12 bids, and lost the camera to somebody who paid $22.50. Damn.

I don't know what exactly it is about the old vintage cameras, but there's something about them that I love. I think part of it is just that they look so effing cool! Yes, I know, that's totally a shallow comment... but it's true. I mean, even drawings of them are cool looking. In fact, I've recently fallen in love with these amazing dishes from Etsy that I would get, if I had a house of my own to use them in:



Even more than looks, however, is just the feel of the older cameras. They have heavier bodies and more angular shapes, which makes them different to hold. They have the fun little film-advance lever that makes the "cachink!" sound when you flick it. And the shutter click is just so much more satisfying on the old cameras! My fingers twitch just thinking about it...

I think part of my love for the old cameras comes from the fact that I learned the basics of SLR photography using my Dad's old Ricoh. Taking pictures with that camera just felt more pure than with digital, and I can remember the thrill of using it for the first time. Plus there was the excitement of never actually knowing what would come out with each shot, and the exhileration of developing the film in the darkroom and watching what would suddenly appear in the frames... man, I miss those days (however brief my stint in the darkroom was).

Now, don't get me wrong, I DO already have a 35mm SLR. But the thing is, it's a relatively new one and reminds me a lot of my DSLR. I love them both, but they just don't feel the same as the older ones. (Oh, and it's currently back home in Canada...) Hence my recent obsession with tracking down the perfect vintage SLR (preferably for less than $30... but that may be asking a lot). Yes, 3 SLRs is excessive. No, I don't need another camera. But this little voice in my head just keeps whispering "but it's a good deal! It's an investment! It's only $30-ish dollars! You've been thinking of getting a vintage camera for a few years now, and if you're still thinking about it then it's ok to get one... you've held out long enough!"

Could somebody please tell the little voice to shut up? Either that, or help me justify getting another camera... and then help me scour ebay for a nice one in good working order.



Oh, and ps: school's ok, life's ok, and only 11 more weeks in Durham... I'll update when I have something more interesting to add.

Last Night in the First Quarter....

Hello again, world! I've taken what has turned out to be a rather long hiatus from blogging... and for the most part, real life in general. After my last post I basically spent my remaining time in Durham either holed up in the computer lab or sprawled out in my room studying, then I flew home for a month of blissful, school-free vacation. I spent most of my time hanging out with family, meeting up with old friends, sleeping, playing, and generally just pretending the days weren't ticking by. But alas, they were... and so I'm back in Durham and right back into the thick of things. Even though this is only the first full week of classes, I've been swamped since I got back with all the magazine stuff that I couldn't finish off before I left, and chose to ignore when I was home (because really, I can't write a locally-based story when I'm out of the country...). I could whine and pout about the unfairness of being assigned stories last minute, and how maybe they should have *remembered* to assign me the stories originally instead of sending me home in prior weeks because they had nothing for me to do.... but that's not what this post is about.

No, dear friends, this post is about the somewhat scary fact that tomorrow (or more specifically, in about 2 hours) I turn the dreaded 2-5.

(Dunn Dunn DUUUUUUNNNNNNNN)

Now I myself am not exceptionally bothered by this fact. Sure, I'm turning a quarter of a century. Yes, when I say it that way it sounds old. And numerous (usually younger) friends seem to get a great deal of pleasure out of pointing my ancient-ness out to me. And telling me that all their friends who are that age are married and have popped out a couple of kids. And how that's ok, I'm just not "at that stage" yet... whatever that may mean.

The thing is, people aren't maturing at the rate they used to. Women don't get married at the age of 17 and have 3 kids by the time they're 21 anymore. Instead, we go to school. We get a degree. Sometimes we get two degrees. Or three. We're capable, and it's recognized... so why is my "stage" in life dependent on whether there's a ring on the finger and a bun in the oven? I'm not measuring my life by whether or not I'm in a serious relationship... so why should other people?

Peoples' "innocent" comments and teasing jabs occasionally will get to me, and I'll let myself be overcome by all the things I haven't done in my 24 years on Earth. I haven't finished school, I haven't had a "real" job (or so I've been told), I haven't found the person I want to spend the rest of my life with, I haven't figured out where I'm going to settle down or what exactly I'll be doing, I haven't decided where I'll be 10 years from now... hell, I don't even know where I'll be 4 months from now!

But you know what? I'm only 24. And in 1.5 hours, I will only be 25. That's not as young as I used to be, but it's sure as hell not old. I have the rest of my life ahead of me to figure out where to go, and what to do, and who to spend time with. I'll be a year older tomorrow than I am today, and that's ok! Age is just a number, and I'd rather be older and have done the things that I wanted to before "settling down", than be young, married and bitter.

I'm young. I'm happy. And it's THAT, not whether or not I have a ring, that makes ME successful.