Spiderman

So, I know this isn't a comic strip, but I wanted to go with my idea that came rushing through my head yesterday. Hahaha. I'm not very good at hands, but I hope ya'll this this is decent. Im happy with it I think, so I hope you are too. I was kind of hoping to get a cynical, creepy look to it, so i hope thats what I achieved.

The Adventure Comic Series.

Okay, so I've decided to do something new with my blog on account of the inability to write about the life I'm not having. I've got a lot of time on my hands and recently purchased a tablet and have been trying it out along with this illustration software called GIMP. Boy is it ever confusing, hence why I didn't opt for the very expensive (GIMP was free) Adobe Illustrator.

I just wish these programs were writen in lamans terms for people like myself who aren't experts. But in anycase, a few years back I was really into comic illustration stuff; mainly pen to paper--so I think I'll start recreating them on the computer with this fancy tablet. Though, I haven't figured out how to change colours in this damn program, so bare with me with the boring black and white until I do.

The picture is just basically a roughly sketched montage of the many characters I've created over the years, and will continue to become the characters of my up and coming comics. It's pretty messy but I haven't learned the tricks of the trade yet on sharpness and that, but soon, soon you will be amazed. Maybe I can inspire you with my lack of skill, comical creativity. Either that, or make you gag.

Alright. I'm off to play around with my tablet; become one with the tablet sensai.

Cheers.

Dig that garden up and pray the monsters don't come out from your closet.

Paper Toss

Realizing that your 9 month old computer is a piece of crap: $900 dollars; sitting there for hours with your dad trying to figure out a solution: 6 hours of stress; watching your 65 year old dad entertain himself with Ipod games; priceless.

Ugh. What can I say, computers are crap. After experiencing four crashes in three days; after doing system restore only to find out it made things worse; after re-installing my whole operating system and starting from the beginning; I'm still trying to get this crap up back and running.

I got's me a banana

Heck, has it been that long? Have I become unexcited with the writing of blogs? Bah! I didn't think I'd ever join the D Lister's of bloggers; not that I was ever an A Lister, in your world anyways.

It's been almost a year yet I've got not much to say. It hasn't been as epic of a year as I'd hoped; I thought I'd be an astronaut by now or something; traveling to the moon and being all space like. Shucks, what stellar thing shall I write about to entertain you folks with; shall I tell you about the muffins I made today? They were quite delicious. They were banana-nut-oat-chocolate-chip-wheat-can't-eat-just-one-unless-you're-being-health-conscious-which-isn't-my-best-asset muffins. Tastey. But eating them right out of the oven is never a good plan because the flavours haven't absorbed so it inevitably ends up tasting like fire would (or fire wood, ha. take your pick). Yep, as untastey as fire. Shiz. Reading this is probably as terribly as watching your grandmother shower, so I'll try to move onto something more interesting.

Hmm, what's more interesting than muffins? Oh, how about a top 10 list. I've really always wanted to do one, but for what? OH! My life the past year. Good one. Though I don't know how many readers I've still got out there. But let me check: "Hello out there. Can any of you read me?" Silence. Sigh. It's what I figured, but hey lets just pretend you're all still out there and give this a shot.

10. Finished my third year of University with flying colours (even though I don't really know what that exactly means, I didn't see no rainbow)

9. I didn't get pregnant. That's always a winner in mentioning.

8. I purchased the miracle of entertainment; an Ipod touch and baby, it's bitchingly awesome.

7. I got re-hired at that fabulous camp I worked at later, but didn't win over the guitar playing hunk of hubba-hubba.

6. Adopted the words "epic," "romantical," and "stellar" in my daily vocabulary of musings

5. Felt the pain of washing my phone in a load of laundry. Sure I got a clean smelling phone, but it didn't work-what's the use in that! Pft.

4. Broke my leg at the end of my summer job tripping over a pile of shoes, what up Murphy's Law

3. Worked on the autocraphical book I'm writing. Though it's the best crap I've ever encountered.

2. Realized that a secret identity on blog sites doesn't work when you're excited to show friends your posts

1. One that I'm not happy about, and it does not deserve to be in the place of #1 : I caved and got a bitching twitter. But since you know now, give it a shot, be my bitch and follow me! www.twitter.com/monyyas...

Alright, so let's see if this new start to writing this blog again kicks off.

For now, don't forget to tuck your pillow under your bed; dust mites are for sleeping.

On another note, I've gotta get better material.

Don't forget your number

So, I definitely haven't posted for a while mainly due to no inspiration and the sad fact that my so-called-life has become as dull as the the knives in my kitchen. In any case, the most exciting thing that has happened in the past week was the two coat check shifts I picked up thanks to my sister. Sure, it's not the most glamorous job, but it makes me quite the bit of cash without any full commitment, and I get to do whatever my big heart desires in those boring 7 hours--not to mention the fact that I get to regale you with the encounters of my coat check patrons.

The two nights combined into one; in the sense that I'm not sure what event's transpired on what night; what I do know though is that I very quickly learned to address people by the brands of their coats. It's like being in someones closet and checking out how much money they actually spend on their clothes. For me though, I'm not big on spending $300 on a scarf ,$140 on cashmere gloves, or $900 on a coat of any form. I'll tell you who is though; Mr. Burberry Jacket. Yes, that's right. Mr. Burberry owned a long navy blue Burberry coat, decked out in gold plated cuff links. He came about once or twice to grab his jacket to engulf his lungs in tobacco and in the end left me a very shady $2 tip. It's not much for me to grab your coat of fthe hook, twice but you can't fool me into thinking $2 is all you can spare at an open bar event Mr. Burberry; I know you're a wealthy man and that your pockets can spare more than $2.

Along with Mr. Burberry was his friend Jones New York. Adorned in grey wool and black trim, the Jones couple didn't quite sit still on their hangers. Was it that they were made with too much fabric and too heavy for the hangers, or was it that the hangers were not made well enough for the couple themselves? I believe it was Jones New York who left me a very generous $5 tip at the beginning of the nightwhich I was content about, considering he claimed his wife's jacket a half dozen times to join in with the other tobacco filling lungs outside.

Among the nameless coats lay a handful of Danier Leathers. Oh the trouble they gave; falling off the hangers, bending the hangers, breaking the hangers and taking up too much room. Between this group of coats, the tips were average; $1 here, maybe $2 there. Sure, again I don't expect much, but they're just a handful of trouble I tells ya. The reason they're so heavy is cause their pockets are full of cash meant to give to the coat check girl. Though, I'm not sure they were ever aware of that. Tragedy.

I would however like to give a shout out to the husband of the fur coat who was very stealth in handing me his tip. $10 dollars baby. Of course it was because his eccentric wife enjoyed filling her lungs with tobacco every hour. But let me tell you; Mr. Husband-to-the-fur coat slipped the 10 in my hand as I passed him his wife's coat and with the nod of his head, walked up the stairs and into the darkness. He pretty much made up for the dozens of people who left me nothing in my poor little tip jar.

Of all the coats and all the brands that I observed and all the cellphones that were left in pockets that went off throughout both nights, it was the people themselves who were really something. Where to start of course is the question. The first thing that comes to mind is the handful of people who lost their tickets and though describing their coats would suffice; surprisingly I seemed to remember the faces with the coats of many people, but yet still had some trouble.

One guy; who I need to mention was very attractive, lost his ticket. Now, he was one to remember considering he was very intoxicated. I asked him to describe his coat and he was barely able to articulate his words. He asked if it was cool if he came in to my booth and at first I denied him entrance , since I was very protective of my booth. It made me feel important and I couldn't risk him coming in and messing up my coats!! I mean, what would the world come to if coat # 750 came after 767???? (hahaha) Anyways, I kept asking him yes or no questions figuring it was a better method in his state, and in the end pointed to the coat I believed was his only to be denied. Upon letting him in, surprise surprise it was the right coat.

Among him, there was another guy who walked into the booth without asking, looking for his coat as if it was his own home closet (he ran off at the beginning of the night before I could hand him his ticket). I suggested that he step out and I that I would take care of it, since he was throwing my whole zen off, but he insisted rudely that he would look for it. So ,I stepped aside and waited until he left. Rude, or what. Maybe more like aggressive actually.

Ohhhh. Talking about rudeness, some woman who had helped plan the event, stored her purse in the coat check booth along with her coat and entered and existed the booth as she pleased. I didn't mind as much since she needed to, but what did tickle me in the wrong way was when she put her glass on my drawing/doodle that I was working on (which everyone who came to retrieve their coats was impressed by). She didn't even notice or apologize when she took her glass and left her dirty napkin too boot! Luckily it didn't stain my drawing, else I might have mixed up her coat to get her back; what a pickle she would be in--even though I would probably be the one getting it for her in the end.

So, this drawing that I did started from a doodle, but turned into something apparently impressive. Mr. Suave came by a couple times to get his coat and on the second time noticed my drawing and was impressed. And in his drunken manner began to discuss how he too is an artist; but a musician while trying to hold up a meaningful conversation. He inquired as to why I drew what I did and I replied saying it was whatever was in my head. After 10 more minutes of meaningless and drunken discussion, he left for what I thought would be the night. Soon after he came back and told me that he wanted my drawing; I didn't think I would care at first, but I had grown an attachment to it within those short hours and he realized that but still tried to coerce me into giving it away; "artwork to another artist" were his words more or less. He told me he was going to go for a smoke and come back and expect to have my drawing signed and dated. He was a pretty weird character, consdiering he kept addressing me as "delicious." "Hey Delicious, whats up; hey Delicious, whats that?"

In the end I decided I would give it to him, even though I was somewhat attached to it--but I felt there wasn't any point creating art if it couldn't be shared. But he never did come back, which really did make me happy, because it meant I got to keep my drawing without any form of guilt.

Im sure there are more stories but I'm too tired to think about them. If I do, I'llbe sure to post them. I've got another boring shift on Saturday, but I'm sure it means more stories. Anyways, below is the doodle I did during that weekend and beside it, what I've worked on since.

Cheers
So as you can see, its crappy-ish
and the lines aren't so clean, but
I was doing it on my lap. I like it
though.
<----



This one is a bit cleaner and sharper.
Same idea though.
ps my scanners kind of low budget.

Rythmic Dillussions

And it’s weird because the power of music illumines feelings in me that nothing else or anyone else ever could. On a constant basis I’m listening to my melodramatic tunes; feeling the vibrations in my head; letting the words linger throughout my mind and body; on the bus, at home, in the car—the music follows me everywhere. It has and continues to be a space where I can feel however I want, think what ever I want and be whoever I want. I believe it’s fair to say, that music fills each of us and transpires into a million different meanings at different points of our lives

needIt scares me when I realize though, the power music has over me. How it can prompt the emergence of tears, of laughter, of empathy, of sorrow, of excitement and of craziness—and by craziness, I mean the times I breakout in dance moves in front of my mirror; that’s right, no shame.

to It’s every so often that I find a song that shakes me to the core. Today it was “Ballerina” by Leona Naess. Unless you want your mood to drop, don’t listen to it. It’s a beautiful song really, just a little gloomy, yet somehow I can’t turn it off. My life—well lets just say it’s a little ironic in the way it works; in the way I work; in the way my head works. When people are feeling down, they’ll usually fill their heads with the musical vibrations of happy sounds—the likings of Andy Kim’s “Sugar, Sugar” and Debra Cox’s “Beautiful U R” –and the many more that I currently can’t recall. For me however, it’s quite the opposite.

yellFor this city girl, it’s mellow music that I would rather, that I need to listen to in order to get through whatever the hell I’m going through; which on a weekly, daily and hourly basis can be what I seem to think is a lot—mostly concerns with the missing and broken pieces of my life’s puzzle.

out It definitely sounds like I’m depicting my life is a tragic life story; it really isn’t. It has its great parts—the parts I am so thankful to have and the parts that lead me to turn on my gangster beats in appreciation. But everyone longs and wishes for what they can’t have; and everyone hopes and dreams that things come to them sooner than later, and I’m no different.

loudTruly though, what I’m getting at is that it jolts me that I can’t find an answer to why we feel such a special connection to music. It’s relatable to everyone—which is the simplest and only answer I can come up with. Any other views and answers that I’m missing out on? One thing I know for sure is that I definitely wouldn’t be able to get through life without it.
someIt’s a bit of a dangerous object though I think. It manipulates us, breeds actions and adds both unnecessary and necessary larger-than-life effects to daily events. For example, in films where individuals are on their deathbed and hand in hand with their loved one sitting beside them, the scene becomes ten times more effective when Enya’s “Only Time” comes on, than it would be without her soothing sounds. The music combined with images captivates the hearts of viewers and causes their tear ducts to emit uncontrollable tears—at least for me anyways. And in reality, something that can seem so little like a small and meaningless fight between friends can turn into something with much more of an emotional effect when you turn on a mellow track before bed.

placeIf life had a soundtrack, wouldn’t each action of life seem more—for lack of a better word—epic? Your first step; your first dance; your first successfully baked pie; your first rainy day kiss; your first child—would all prompt the perfect song to be played filling the space surrounding you in each of those larger-than-life moments.

to Music becomes a space where your heart accelerates its beats and where your fingers can tremor in life’s emotions. It’s a space of freedom and creativity.

call There’s an immense amount of beauty in music; in its words, its melodies and its rhythms—that is no lie. It can transpire into whatever you want it to be; it can relate to the best things of your life one day and the worst things the next.

mineIn essence, I guess part of me just loves the mysteries and power that music holds. Sometimes I wish I could be the main character in certain songs; where things always work out four minutes later. But for now, I think I can deal with taking my music in stride and being just an average city-girl.

The Last Day of October

Witches and Warlocks; princesses and princes; beauty’s and beasts; ghouls and ghosts; superheroes galore— some of the many Halloween costumes the kiddies came to our door in this Halloween. Innocent two; three; four; six; eight; ten; thirteen and then-some-year olds slipping on their dresses and from their over-sized batman masks as they climbed up the stairs. How cute they were with their big bright and toothless smiles pleaing not so much for trick, but instead treat. As kids swept the streets and pumpkins illumined pathways in neighbourhoods across the city during the early hours of the night, the hours that proceeded later weren’t so innocent and candy filled. Instead, Halloween transpired into a very different scary story in downtown Toronto where the nightlife was filled with Jokers and Mob Men; Pimps and Hoe’s; De-clothed police officers and jail bate runarounds; naughtier-than-naughty devils and less-than-angelic-angles.

Halloween is a day to look forward to all year round; not more than Christmas but more than Valentines. Oh, and definitely not more than Thanksgiving, but certainly more than Easter. It’s an excuse to dress up in anything or as anyone without looking crazy—for the most part. And for all the men in the world, it’s the one opportunity they have to dress up in girls’ clothing without having their heterosexuality questioned. The most enjoyable but challenging part of Halloween is deciding the night’s attire. Most individuals wish to dress as something creative, but fun; original but recognizable; sexy but not slutty—and again I stress, for the most part. Lastly, there are the few that wish to scare the skivvies off—if they’re not already off—of everyone else around them, by dressing in the goriest of gory attire possible.

BOO!This year F, L and myself decided that we would uniform ourselves as flash dancers/aerobics instructors for Halloween night. We were initially thrilled about it, considering we would get to wear tacky fluorescent colored clothing, headbands and leg warmers—though it seems they’re today’s current fashion anyways. As enthused as we were about that idea, it came and went when we thought of dressing as fire-fighters. F was on the fence about joining in our crusade, but in the ended joined forces as a sexy and gorgeous police officer along with M who was the cutest bunny of all and LS who kicked it into gear with her cowgirl attire.
Did ITo bring a touch of inner pizzazz to our costumes, L and I decided we would adorn our shirts with wording on the back that said “I put out” and on the front “Fire,” though I was the only one who followed through in the end. Originally, the shirt would suggest a failure of innocence on my part (which for the record, I totally am innocent) but then would disappoint upon turning around. Unfortunately my theory did not work out as planned. Instead, my suggestive shirt prompted the most horrid and cheesy lines from a handful of boys which included: “So you put out the heat eh? Well I’m the heat,” and “You put out fires right? Well you better hurry up and put me out cause I’m on fire.” Near the end, I had given my shirt too much credit and decided to brush the cheese of with some wine, and began responding with “Fire? Where? You’re definitely not on fire,” and “You don’t look like the heat.” Horrible I know. I’m really not that mean, I was just served way too much cheese but I won’t deny that I asked for it (but so did they!).
scareAnyways, our original plans for Halloween went astray considering our usual pub was packed and left no room for us to move, dance or breathe. Surviving it for no more than 45 minutes, we rushed out of there and headed to one of our favorite dives; McDonald’s. Sure, a bunny, cowgirl, two fire-fighters and a police officer in McDonalds wouldn’t seem like the picture perfect place to spend Halloween night, but it was. Those fatty fries and deliciously fake burgers were a blessing in disguise as they permitted us to avoid the crowds of confident and nearly-naked girls who took ‘sexy’ to a whole new level (if you know what I mean), and to avoid boys with the utmost unoriginal pickup lines and whose concern was to retrieve their ‘deserved’ assets. As much as originality wanted to be attained by all individuals alike (including myself but failed for my lack of creativity), and though the “Where’s Waldo’ costumes would be of utmost surprise, most had the same goal in mind; to dress or undress in any which way as Halloween offers the only night that justifiably provides that opportunity.
you?Next Halloween, I’d like to as me at age seven; dressed up as a big orange pumpkin and as happy as can be, skipping from door to door with my huge candy filled pillow case.
heheThe sad truth is that when you grow up, Halloweens aren’t filled with toothless smiles, bags full of candy, happy innocence and elementary school dances. Grown-up Halloweens are instead filled with bodies immersed in a sea of “sugar”, spice and not so much nice.