Amy Grace

I'm back in Castlegar for another summer. It is going smoothly so far, and I don't start work until Monday, so I have a few days to recover from the mess that was school. I'm staying again with a friend of the family in the same housing co-op as my parents, so that makes my life so much easier than if I were staying with my sister for the whole summer sharing a room with a set of bunkbeds. I mean, I know people share small spaces the time, but I just like it if I don't have to.

Anyway, if any of y'all are in for a game of postal tag, email me at amy.grace.elizabeth at gmail dot com and give me your address.


ETA: That poisonous, libellous old lady who lives a few doors down from my parents' house is at it again. I wrote about her last summer here and here.  It started right back up again on the first day I was back in town; after she told me that I look good as a blonde, she got on my case about how it's lovely that I'm on her side against all the evil people here.  Oh yeah, and her constant promises to run away to live with rich relatives in England have been broken.  Again. 

This is the last day of my undergrad degree. That knowledge hasn't served as quite the motivator that I thought it would. 

I am not coming back to Victoria in the fall, which hasn't quite sunk in yet, and I kind of wonder when it will.  I am ending this year with a bit of a mad scramble to get things finished, which is interesting considering that I'm using programs that I've never used before, starting about 12 hours before the assignments are due.  Oh heck.  Well, it'll get done no matter. 

My skin does this thing where it gets itchy and dry when I'm stressed out -- I have had anaphylatic reactions to stress before, though this doesn't really feel like that, more like I've been rolling around in freshly cut grass with no clothes on or something.  I haven't been doing that at all, and I honestly don't think I have ever, but still that is what my body feels like right now. 

Back to linux versions of things (ie: Scribus, the Gimp, Inkscape). Back to the frustration of using Photoshop files in the Gimp, too. Proprietary shit sucks. 

Grindhouse: first half awesome, second half so so so bad. 

That's all.

Today is the first frisbee day of the year. This is a big deal.  Also, I have a new paintshirt because my other one is rapidly decomposing.  (I almost typed "rabidly", which might apply, sort of.)

What the fuck is with spring?  Why do people behave like assholes when the warm season hits?  Srsly ppl, grow up.  It'll happen eventually so it may as well be now.  In the meantime, I'm going into hiding til it's passed;  I hope someone remembers to find me.

Dream One -- Fighting Hitler

Setting: Rainy Coast, somewhere with 100 foot cliffs and low clouds.
Medium: Pen and Ink drawing, with semi-flat colouration.

Characters
Mind one: me.
Mind two: Hitler.

I am a member of "the resistance" (which resistance? I don't know) charged with finding out how Hitler's forces have all sorts of crucial information about us.  I am a shape shifter and leave bodies when they die.  The first part of the dream that I remember , I am in the body of a female with blonde hair, but am killed by a blow to the head.  I move to the body of a high-ranking male.  At that point, Hitler is "himself", but I kill him in a knife fight.  He takes over the body of a middle-aged man in the room where we are fighting, and launches himself at me.  We wrestle with knives in our hands for several minutes, and Hitler grabs my tongue and eventually the dangly bit at the back of my throat.  We struggle outside, past a group of people who just stand there gawking.  We approach a cliff and he throws me over after stabbing me in the lower abdomen.  I see blood trailing above me, and wake up, but not before I move my consiousness to someone who orders the capture of Hitler.  I don't know if I was actually able to capture him though.


Dream Two -- Scrapping and Street Racing

Setting: Mountain roads, a camping site with about 30 other students between the age of 18 and 25.

Characters
Myself, a street racer
Andrew T, a hiker and bus rider
Kristy, the girl of a street racer
Andrew H, a street racer

I am initially in a red sunbird, driving on the left side of the road, racing to get to the bridge where there's going to be some sort of fight.  Eventually I realise that none of us are in the cars we were driving in, but instead we are floating at highway speed.  Not flying, really, cos we're all upright.  I ask Andrew H about how I can go faster, but he doesn't really know how to explain and tells me "it's in you".  Kristy starts freaking out at me because I am going faster than she is, and makes plans to get her boy to beat me up when we get to the bridge.  I arrive when about 1/3 of the people I was racing against are there already.  We start throwing each other against the railings and bouncing back to tackle one another. Kristy's boy directs all violence toward me, but I still manage to walk away.  Once about half of us are too bruised and cut up to move, the rest leave and head to a bus waiting to take us up a mountain to a camp ground.  While we're on the minibus, Andrew T and I start beating the shit out of each other with our hiking packs that were full of canned goods.  When the beating the shit out of each other is done, we just sit beside each other and talk about

I have been sleeping more than 12 hours a night/day for about two weeks.  I am sick with something, but I'm not entirely sure what.  It makes my stomach/esophagus and back hurt.  The doctor gave me (hella expensive) pills to treat ulcers, which is something I hope I don't have.  Booooo.  Also my allergies are kicking in.


Last week: jackhammering at the base of the powerpoles outside my house. 
Yesterday: hydrants exploding in full glory throughout my neighborhood.
Today: machines on the backs of trucks, making a rattling sort of hum. On for 5 minutes, off for 5, on for 5, off for 5... and so on.

I met one of the creepiest, least fun to be around guys I can imagine tonight.  He spoke with and affected Eastern Canada accent (I could tell because sometimes he slipped up and spoke like most people do in Duncan) and used the term "eh" several times per sentence.  He sang about really crude, sexual things while he was walking on the street, and tried repeatedly to get us to read his (presumably) terrible poetry from a notebook that was full of (absolutely) terrible sketching while we were eating dinner.  He asked strangers to sign the back of his book, most often attractive young women wearing little in the way of clothing.   He conversed in non-sequiturs (ie: we were talking about beer, and he went off about how awesome it is that glass is actually a liquid, like he thought we didn't already know that).

In any case, he was all icky and gross and I hope to never encounter him again.

So, I went for the final installment of my learning disability assessment today, and although the results are still very preliminary,  I found out that despite most of my "learning areas" being in the "high-average"/"superior" range (ie: 80-99th percentile) I have two areas of severe weakness.  My score in symbolic processing was in the 4th percentile, as was my abstract spatial manipulation (I think that's what it's called).  No wonder I'm so stinking bad at logic!  It also explains why I just didn't get geometry in high school.  They did say, however, that I am just fine at basic math, tho I already knew that.

Now, I am waiting to find out what this means for my degree.  I really really hope I don't have to take logic to graduate. 

I am going nuts about something I probably would be better not off not paying attention to. There is a woman who I interact with on a message board sometimes, and she is very difficult to handle.  She frequently accuses young men about how they speak/type in a way that prevents women from feeling comfortable to participate in the discussion.  Now, that wouldn't bother me in the least if 1- the young men in question actually were behaving that way, and 2- she didn't engage in the exact behavior that she condemns the guys for. 

She's a bully, and she won't ever agree to disagree, even if the conversation is going around in circles. She participates in discussions around gender/identity by proclaiming over and over that she's a dyke and as a result she won't ever accept trans women as women because it's 'just men being typical men and exerting their male privilege in a realm that they cannot normally have access to' or some stupid horseshit.  She also refuses to "allow" men to be feminists (which, I am sure she knows, is really not within her realm of authorit-ah, or anyone else's).

This woman speaks in a way that is both infuriating and impossible to react to without looking like a spazz (ie: nicey-nice on the surface, but really scathing and mean if you know the context of what she says).  When I try to react in a civil manner, she tells me that I'm being stepped on by the patriarchy if I buy into the "garbage" that I believe about gender.   Yep, that's me, all stepped-on by the patriarchy.  Look, I even have footprints on my belly and calves from when those brutes had mud on their shoes.  Aaaand, she's one of those lovely people who think that bisexual folk are lying to themselves, which is always a good way to win points with me. 

It just makes me mad when she pulls the thing where she claims that other people are bullies cos the other people are trying to stop being bullied by her.

K, rant done.

Other, perhaps more noteworthy things to say:
- I am moving to Vancouver.  Probably this fall. 
- I got a tattoo on Tuesday.  It is healing nicely.
- Red Sparrowes are playing on March 20 at Pat's Pub in Vancouver.
- I start work around the middle of April.  I think I have to miss The Ex unless they're out West.  I can't really afford to go out East.
- I have some plans for block print shirts, but for whatever reason, my computer doesn't like to upload photos onto the internet.  I will resolve the problem promptly.
- I have a new crush, I think.

Apparently going on long expeditions for the sake of music is something I like to do in Aprils.  This year I imagine it'll be QC somewhere, before I start work.  The ex is playing 3 (location TBA) dates in Canada, which means my trip to Seattle to see ISIS and Jesu is probably not going to happen. 

Me and Martin are hitting up the greyhound I think.  I heartily encourage other people to come with us.

When I was in grade 8, I had no real friends.  I had a group of people who were in a similar situation, so we ran together to keep ourselves from going insane.  They were all really naive, from fairly well-to-do backgrounds.  They were into Savage Garden and the Backstreet Boys, and they'd do these collages with lyrics from sappy love songs and pictures of their crushes from the yearbook and class photos.  (Their crushes were always the popular boys who usually didn't know who they were.)

One time, I got invited to a birthday party of a childhood friend, and one of the girls from the group warned me that I shouldn't go if I ever wanted to hang out with the cool kids.  Only about 10% of my mind wanted to hang out with those jackasses anyway, so I went to the party.  After that, the group cooled considerably toward me.

A couple of months later, a guy in the next town over murdered his whole family.  Radio and TV reports told everyone to keep an eye out for a white dodge van with a missing side-view.  The same girl who warned me of the risk to my social life told us all that she'd seen the van, but we shouldn't tell anybody. She went to the office, and the cops came to talk to her -- turns out it was not the same van.  A couple of days later, I phoned one of the girls to see if she wanted to hang out.  She said that she wasn't allowed, cos I'd blabbed about the van. I phoned someone else, same deal.  The thing is, I didn't say anything.  Honestly, I didn't even believe her; I thought she was making it up for attention.  Later I found out that these girls thought I wasn't doing enough to climb the social ladder and were doing anything short of telling me that to keep me from running with them.

I've seen most of them since high school, and most of them are finally over that and some of them are even nice, but it took a long time.  Being in grade 8 is rough times.

I hate migraines, especially the ones that take hours to turn from headache to their evil evil selves.

In other (though related) news I am going to bed early tonight, and going swimming tomorrow morning.

ETA: Hey look! I can't even punctuate properly.  Boooooooo.

Now that my computer (no longer a windows machine, btw) is set up on a table in my room, I consider myself officially moved in. I am the resident of a canteloupe coloured medium-sized boxy room that looks over the playground.  I have set up studio space and a big huge blotter all over my desk.  Yes!

I am still trying to get the media manager on my computer to work properly, but once that's done I expect that I'll do a big back entry with pictures of some art that I handed in before xmasssss and the stuff that I'm currently working on.

Also, if I happen to make some neat tshirts by means of block prints who wants one?

I am in the process of making a mix CD to send to a friend.  I can't send songs that may be misinterpreted as "I have a crush on you", because there is the possibility of that due to some history between us.  My friends are queens-supreme of compulsive mix CD analysis; it has put the fear of god into me and has slowed down the pace of this project substantially.

I had several strange dreams last night, but most of them were revolving around the physical manifestations of sleep.  I don't quite know what that means, but in one instance I was dreaming while still partly awake, but due to the position of earthy stumps behind my eyelids, I could tell how much more time would elapse before completely losing consiousness.   The awake parts of my mind were represented by stumps that stuck completely out of the ground, and the asleep parts were partly submerged in dirt.  I think I might try to use this tactic in the future when I cannot sleep; I wonder how effective it will be. 

I also dreamt of tap dancing, but it wasn't nearly as cool.

I am at the Vancouver Greyhound station right now, on my way back to the Island.  The bus was late due to a LANGLEY diversion, so I'll be on the 9pm ferry and Josh's coming to pick me up because I can't connect with the Mill Bay bus.  I got some purring left as 2 messages on my cell phone, when I couldn't answer it due to low battery.  Some human purring and some cat.  I am drinking terrible coffee with chocolate something or other mixed in, and I'm surrounded with stuff; suitcases, boxes of gifts, piles of scarfs and coats, stupid ugly exmas decorations, other grumpy travelers and running kids. 

I spoke to a woman on the bus who is a teacher.  It was neat because she told me all about what it's like to teach in small communities up north, which is something I consider a distinct possibility for my future.  She actually taught in Cold Lake, Alberta, which is where I grew up. 

Man, I am half grumpy, half elated.  I love it when emotions combine to an indistinct buzz in my gut. 

Time to line up; the bus should be leaving very shortly. 

A holiday update.

The past ten days have been remarkably low in conflict considering that there have been 6 people, including a hyper five year-old and a grouchy seventeen year-old, living in a three bedroom townhouse.  The five year-old has learned how to pronounce "r" as well as "l" in words since the last time I saw him. The seventeen year-old has de-grouched substantially since then, too.  I am  with my family tomorrow.  I'm stopping for a couple of days in Kamloops to visit family and then I'm back to the island.  It will be the first New Years that I will be able to uh... par-tay if I so choose, as I have always been babysitting or hanging out with mi familia. 

I got a harmonica and a glass slide to play guitar with.  I am in love with harmonicas.

We had a family friend and his partner over for dinner.  No turkey, tourtiere instead.  She's Quebecoise, and her dad just died a few weeks ago.  The tourtiere triggered something, and she had a bit of a breakdown at dinner.  I can't say that I liked her on the previous occasions that we've met, but tonight she just seemed like... a better person.  It was really an interesting change.  Despite being really miserable, she was kind and honest.  I have seen the Death Effect before and every time I see it, it plays games with me.

(I am daydreaming of cycling around Haida Gwaii.  Well, half daydreaming, half planning.  I want to live in a tent this summer while I'm working.  Maybe I can actually pull it off. That'd be really neat-o-riffic  Y'all should come visit me in my tent if I manage to arrange such a thing.)

Sitting in a coffee shop with a computer and headphones is actually the most productive way I've found to get work done.  I don't have any desire to leave my seat, for fear of having my computer stolen, and I have nothing to do to distract myself except MSN and general internetting. 

I am done my graphic arts portfolio, which is a really nice feeling.  I am >< that far away from being done my photography final assigments.  I am pretty happy with the outcome of photography, not so much with the graphic arts crap that I did.  I just didn't spent enough time on it.  I imagine that I'll spend more time on that kind of thing in the future; I'd like to get reasonably good at webdesign, I think. 

Oh, and my final painting is done.  I actually really like it.  I've never been happy with a painting before.   I think I'm going to make it into a series.  I kind of if I can even get a gallery space or whatever.  I think I'd like that.  I used to object to selling art, but fuck! How else do people who do art make a living, really.

I am regaining a sense of direction in art.  I was so under this crazy block for a long time, but I'm not really afraid of things turning out poorly anymore.  It's really OK if they do.  I actually learn a lot from things that go to shit.  Fancy that, eh? Not like the rest of life, not at all. 

There needs to be more jubilation in this world. 

Really for real.  I love everything sometimes.  Even homework right now, and cement and seagull poop. 

OMGWTFLOL I am almost done my term, and I feel like I have actually done some artwork that I'm happy with.  Yesterday I spent a lot of the day painting.  I will take a picture of it and stick it on here when I'm done, which should be tomorrow.  It's pretty solid, and consists of dictionary pages, transclucent red glaze and some black lines so far.  I'll stick a picture of with my final project for sculpture  too (wireframe papier-mache pillow in white with a wireframe 3D "z" sitting on top, painted black and held about an inch above the pillow with more wire -- it's a shrine to sleep). 

Today in the afternoon was mostly 3D rendering of a short animation and two stills. Oh boy do I suck at things not photoshop.  I can link to my graphic arts website later in the week, I think.  My entire crappy portfolio will be on there by then.