BookLust

Top of the World

For the past few days I have been feeling particularly blue, and I'm not exactly sure why. Perhaps it's because work has slowed down. Perhaps it's because I'm facing a big challenge with the latest picture book I'm illustrating. Or perhaps it's that let-down feeling one gets after lots of celebration and socializing (my birthday and our wedding anniversary). Whatever the reason, my heart is heavy, and I can't get out of this funk. This isn't good because I've got to give a presentation of my work tonight at the monthly CANSCAIP meeting. So I'm nervous and blue. And what do I do to quell this feeling of bleh? I decide to read my horoscope, something I very rarely ever do. And here's what I read:

Clearly I am doing something wrong.

Don't 6

Random Readings 15

If I remembered that morning of Clarissa's birthday so well – cards and torn envelopes scattered across the bed, intrusive sunlight burning through the curtained gap – it's because one of our little playful episodes brought me for the first time in my life to a full and complete experience in two places at once. Aroused by Clarissa, fully sentient and appreciative, and yet gripped by the tragedy behind the newspaper titbit, the two teams scattering midplay in the violent winds to die in their boots on the edge of the invisible pitch. All copulating creatures are vulnerable to attack, but selection over time must have proved that reproductive success was best served by undivided attention. Better to allow the occasional couple to be eaten mid-rapture than dilute by one jot a vigorous procreational urge. But for seconds on end I had wholesomely and simultaneously indulged two of life's central, antithetical pleasures, reading and fucking.

– from Enduring Love by Ian McEwan

So What Does a Freelancer Look Like?

Monday morning, after a very pleasant(!) appointment with my new accountant, I wandered into the always delightful Lillian H Smith library, to explore what was showing in the Osborne Collection, as well as sign out craploads of picture books (research for my ongoing pursuit of writing picture book stories). I then travelled back to Book City in the Bloor West Village, so that I could use my annual birthday book coupon to buy myself a belated birthday book treat (I ended up purchasing a copy of Quill & Quire as well as The Pencil: A History of Design and Circumstance by Henry Petroski). Then a cup of coffee and a blueberry scone at the local coffee shop, and it was time to take a bus back home and do some work.

As I was getting ready to get off the bus, the driver smiled at me and said, "Going home, huh?" I said yes, but that I would be going home to work (I guess I don't really want people to think that I'm a lady of leisure just because I'm not stuck in some stuffy office downtown). The bus driver then replied, "Yeah – you look like one of those people who work at home." I smiled and got off the bus, but as I waited to cross the street the thought suddenly occurred to me – just what the hell did that guy mean when he said that?

I immediately began to take stock of my appearance. It was a warm day, so my winter coat was open. The driver would have been able to clearly see that I was wearing a rather funky green East-Indian shirt, with comfortable jeans. I hadn't bothered to blow-dry my hair the night before; instead I opted for natural drying, which tends to create a Pre-Raphealite, kinky look to my mop. Never mind that because I've been so busy lately, I'm in serious need of a hair-cut, so the kinky hair was long and a tad messy. I was sporting my funky black glasses, because I had been reading on the bus. On one shoulder I was carrying my purse and a Toronto Public Library canvas bag, full to the brim with picture books. In the other hand I carried my Book City bag with my belated-birthday loot. I suppose I looked relaxed and happy. It had a been a very enjoyable morning.

But just what does a freelancer look like? Is it because I looked artsy and casual that he made that judgement? Do all freelancers look like me? I don't think so. I know for a fact that there are freelancers who make a concerted effort to dress very professionally every day, even though they work at home, just to put their head space in serious working mode (yeah, Steve, I'm talking about you!) Not all freelancers are casual artsy-fartsies like myself.

I wasn't offended by the bus driver's comments – just intrigued. So I'll pose the question again, hoping for an answer: Just what does a freelancer looks like?

BiblioQuotes 5

"You can't wait for inspiration. You have to go after it with a club."

– Jack London

(A friend who is a very talented writer brought this beauty to my attention).

Bloor West Toonin'/Town Cryin' 17

I'm baaaaack! Remember me? Anybody left? I hear crickets chirping. I got caught up on all my work, but then it was my birthday on the 28th, and April 1st is our 13th wedding anniversary, so, well...I got distracted. That's what comes from gettin' old!

This month's Town Crier toon. What more needs to be said? Snow be gone, damn you! And bring us yucky, dirty, slooshy slush! (But no basement floods, please).

Yet Another Sigh...

I'm still under the gun, but it's getting better. So for your viewing pleasure, yet another photo.

Recently the hubby performed a puppet play at the Oakwood Library during the March Break. The local York Guardian took a photo, so now Guido's famous!

Ain't he cute? Sigh...

Sigh...

As you can guess, I've had one hell of a busy week. I've been doing 15 hour days for the past week and I'm near the breaking point. And I'm still working, and will be up late again tonight. But after that, I should be somewhat caught up, so am hoping to post something of interest during the weekend.

So as a way of apologizing, I thought I'd give you all a good chuckle by sharing some beautiful photos of me when I was a kid. Funny thing is, just recently I was thinking of asking my dad if he had any old slides of me as a kid reading the comics, but I didn't bother because I figured the answer would be no. And so in one of those delightful serendipitous moments, my dad sent my mom some scanned slides for a completely unrelated reason, and looky looky!

Yup – it don't get much geekier than this. Not only was I chubby, sporting this horrendous contraption and blessed with bushy eyebrows, but I also had asthma at that time, and was allergic to almost every living thing in sight. Good times.

Inspired by TED

Strangely enough, it is often when I am at my busiest that I feel the least inspired. My mind is overwhelmed by deadlines and wanting to please art directors, and the end result is that my heart and soul feel a tad neglected. I've been feeling very uninspired lately, because tax time approacheth, and the deadlines loom ever large. But as luck would have it, some friends have been reminding me about the amazing web site TED (Technology, Entertainment, Design), which contains some utterly awe-inspiring and passionate speakers. Do check them out if you can spare some time. In fact, I insist you do. Instead of watching yet another silly TV show, get a cup of coffee, or better yet, a glass of wine, sit down and prepare to be engaged, entertained, and yes, inspired.

Some of my fave speakers to date: Jill Bolte Taylor, Isabel Allende, Ben Dunlap and Maira Kalman.

Enjoy!

Silly Poetry Friday 27

Well....after my very silly garbage rant yesterday, I thought it only fitting that I share a poem for Silly Poetry Friday that's all about garbage! And of course, the best garbage poem out there is none other than Garbage Delight by our very own delightful Dennis Lee.

You know...after reading this poem this morning, it occurs to me that the best answer to our garbage problem is to find a creature who enjoys eating garbage! Any takers out there?

GARBAGE DELIGHT

Now, I'm not one
To say No to a bun,
And I always can manage some jelly;
If somebody gurgles,
"Please eat my hamburgles,"
I try to make room in my belly.
I seem, if they scream,
Not to gag on ice-cream,
And with fudge I can choke down my fright;
But none is enticing
Or even worth slicing,
Compared with Garbage Delight.

With a nip and a nibble
A drip and a dribble
A dollop, a walloping bite:
If you want to see grins
All the way to my shins,
Then give me some Garbage Delight!

I'm hand with candy.
I'm a star with a bar.
And I'm known for my butterscotch burp;
A can stare in the eyes
Of a Toffee Surprise
And polish it off with one slurp.
My lick is the longest,
My chomp is the champ
And everyone envies my bite;
But my talents were wasted
Until I had tasted
The wonders of Garbage Delight.

With a nip and a nibble
A drip and a dribble
A dollop, a walloping bite:
If you want to see grins
All the way to my shins
Then give me some Garbage Delight,
Right now!
Please pass me the Garbage Delight.