theorie

Just thought I'd drop in for my yearly visit to alert everyone (all 2 of you) of my living status. Yup, still alive. Alive and busy as poop.

Let's see. Working 20 hours a week + going to school full time at OCAD + ridiculous amount of projects due every day + shitty freelance work + whatever time I can manage to squeeze in with my boyman makes for the most stressful, hectic couple of months ever. I mean, seriously. I knew it would be busy, when I told people before September what my schedule would be like they were all man, you're doing to die. And man, they were almost right. It would be intolerable if it all these things weren't a giant stepping stone towards my impending aspirations. And I do enjoy it. My experience at OCAD has been a world of difference from Ryerson. Everything I'm doing is related to my future occupation, which might seem obvious until you consider that all I was doing prior to this was robotics and installations in a program that was claimed to cover all "new media". I have some excellent professors, and I feel myself coming out of my shell more than ever before. Just the knowledge that I have at least one thing in common with everyone here really makes it easy to talk to nearly everyone. And I've discovered that when you actually care about what you're doing, you actually try. Which is, again, obvious, except that last year I was convinced that everyone hated their respective programs and were only doing what they had to in order to "succeed". Well, not anymore.

Work is work. Websites, brochures, magazine spreads, logos, etc. Not much has changed in that respect, except that I feel more and more reassured on a daily basis of my importance to the company. I really have become their go-to-guy. Or girl, you know, if you don't care for the usage of "guy" as an androgynous term. Cough.

Freelance is echhhhhh and officially done. But hey, can't say that I'm not learning anything. I have picked up the following tips over the course of 2 weeks:

- Never trust any client, even if you've worked with them on several projects before.
- Never trust clients in general.
- Write your own contracts.
- Especially if your client has a law degree.
- Come to think of it, never work with lawyers.

Follow the above advice and you won't be stuck with $750 remaining on your tab that no one will pay.

Other than that, not much to make note of. Nothing at all. Nope, no upcoming anniversaries to speak of.

;D

But seriously, Will is totally my rock and the only thing keeping me sane these days. I don't know how I would manage to survive without him around and I feel like I owe him so much. And that's all that needs to be said.

Peace out, holmes.

Hooray for new jobs! And now, a somewhat related msn chatlog.

---

Keem says (8:13 PM):
Keep your weapons handy

danica* says (8:13 PM):
oh i will, i'm putting a machete on my desk as a warning

Keem says (8:14 PM):
...
that is scary

danica* says (8:14 PM):
hey, they know the consequences

danica* says (8:16 PM):
i even told them so in the interview

"so what are some of your weaknesses?"
"if you cross me, i will attack you with a machete."
" ... "

Keem says (8:17 PM):
Well, at least you are being honest about it. that way when you hack him to ribbons he will not be able to act surprised

danica* says (8:17 PM):
i know! i think that was one of my strongest selling points right there

Keem says (8:18 PM):
the fact that you were honest, or that you hack people with machetes?

danica* says (8:19 PM):
well, clearly the machete one

Keem says (8:20 PM):
you should use an axe

danica* says (8:21 PM):
do you think i would get cleaner cuts with that?

( Merriness all around. )

Peace.

From Toronto to Montreal to Toronto again and now back home to Winnipeg in a matter of a week.

Montreal

Pros:

• Willie
• Old Montreal is adorable
• Willie is adorable
  
• Shops everywhere
• Quaint little restaurants everywhere
• Really, super cute all around, I can't emphasize that enough
  
• Well-dressed french folk
• One sweet jazz bar
• Well, Willie again
• Did I mention Willie? I don't think I did.

Cons:

• 4 days /= a vacation
• Sub-zero temperatures preventing exploring

Winnipeg

Pros:

•  TBA

Cons

• No Willie
• No adorableness
• Overall suckiness

Sigh.

Is anyone else participating in NaNoWriMo? If so, hit me up, dogs.

Hello, November!

( I r teh drawer. )

I was sexually assaulted on my run this morning. There I was, Band of Horses blasting in my ears, their melodic harmonies drowning out the crunch of foliage beneath my rhythmically shuffling feet, when suddenly something leaps at me from the brush, frantically groping and pawing at my ass. I whirled around to face my panting predator, tiny rivers of drool trickling from his gaping mouth, revealing rows of gleaming white teeth, and I smiled at him. Perhaps taking my advancement as a sign of aggression, he darted away through the sea of yellow and red, playfully tossing a stray branch in the air before trotting back to his owner's side, who offered a sheepish smile and shrugged apologetically. "Nice dog!", I called out, then I stuck my earbud back in its place and quickly jogged away before I could be subjected to further violations.

Spoiler:
It was a golden retriever. I am a masterful storyteller. Also, Snape kills Dumbledore.

You've read it, you can't unread it!

I'm still posting from the mouse-free zone at Flexo's. In my mind, I see myself returning to find decapitated mouse torsos littering the floor of my room, the wretched odor of rotted rodent carcasses seeping under the crack of the door and reducing the carpet to a smoldering pile of ash from it's acidic toxicity. But I may be exaggerating slightly.

Nothing beats a weekend of hanging out with your friends and making an ass of yourself at karaoke, I tell you what. I'm still shocked that I, the cripplingly shy girl who can't even pick up the phone to order a pizza, sang without inhibition for almost 3 hours. And I must say, we were quite the quartet. Plans to start traveling the country to play rodeo shows are already set in motion; the wheels are turning, the pot is boiling, and so forth. Our music will be a fusion of bluegrass hip-hop combined with undertones of reggae and techno. Beck has already expressed an interest in becoming our opening act. I'm just going to go ahead and say it, and I say this with complete modesty: we may just be bigger than Jesus. Keep an eye out.

Not much else worthy of mention, except that I have been experiencing the worst case of design multiple personality disorder ever. I can't seem to find my creative niche. I'm alternating from total Web 2.0, faux corporate to ridiculously minimalistic to grunge, and nothing works. If I see one more gradient "Aqua" effect, one more "paint splattered" photoshop brush, one more tiny pixellated font, I may blow a gasket. But I may be just lashing out because I tried to squeeze out 3 original designs in the span of a couple hours last night. What is it about school that can take something you love, grind it up and force feed it down your throat by the gallon full until there's nothing left but a bitter taste and a deep loathing for anything that requires the use of a mouse.

If anybody needs me, I'll be in my angry dome.

While I'm waiting for my video to finish rendering, I thought I might share a story chock full of so much irony, you'd best wear protective headgear as your head is bound to implode by the sheer magnitude of ironyness. You've been warned.

Felix has possibly the last ball-mouse in existence, and it is the most malfunctioning, sorriest excuse for a mouse in the history of mice ever, if I may say so myself. Many times I have resisted the urge to yank it by the cord in a blind rage and smash it repeatedly against the wall until the ball possessed by satan himself pops out, thus releasing its curse of terribleness. It's that bad. You point it left, it performs a swirling, looping maneuver and suddenly you've shut down the computer and deleted the C drive. I've had a spare optical mouse sitting around my house since I moved in, and have offered it to him on more than one occasion. "Yeah, maybe later." Well, 'later' finally became 'now'. We ventured into the spare room in my house to make sure it was still there and unused. I flicked on the lights, and sure enough, the mouse was there.

Well, a mouse. Only it was now brown, nimble, and disease ridden. Also, alive.

Well, if there was any doubt of my gender before, let it be known, I am either a woman or the biggest sissy on the planet. I reacted like a total chick. I'm actually somewhat embarrassed. Never have I had the pleasure of encountering rodents in my house before, especially not in the bedrooms, so it came as quite a shock to me when I started blubbering like a baby. I was so freaked out I begged Felix to let me stay at his house until the big strong men can defeat the beady eyed little beast. Oh, my heroes! I am such a girl.

Alright, so it wasn't exactly irony, just a coincidence. But that doesn't have as much panache.

This is wickedawesomestupidcool.

That is all.

I promise I will stick around this time.

Please find enclosed the highlights of the past 6 months of my life. Plus some purty pictures for the visual (read: illiterate) readers.

Part I: Wherein our heroine is overwhelmed by schoolwork.
Nobody enjoys discussing school beyond mere pleasantries, so I'll be brief. First year ended. Second year began. Same game, same ballpark, same team. However, this year beats the last in the professor department, because so far, I have yet to despise one of my profs. Any in the boring and rambling department? Yes. How about pompous and arrogant? Not so much. It is slightly more interesting as we're actually touching on subjects I am not a self-proclaimed expert in. I'm sorry, I meant it would be interesting if I wasn't so terrified of failing because I'm a moron when it comes to science. What does science have to do with art, you ask? Well, a lot when you're learning about robotics and the only science class you took in high school was biology. Can you say royally boned? I would, but I'm paralyzed with fear.

Part II: Wherein our heroine climbs the nearest clocktower.
So, I had a job. Note the past-tense. See, the job I mentioned so many months ago did not live up to its hype. First of all, my boss was a giant dillhole. It didn't matter if I spent 20 hours meticulously inspecting my design, searching for imperfections with a NASA certified telescope, he would still find 50 of his own and send a 20 page e-mail rant about how sloppy my work was, then completely wig out when I didn't reply within 2 hours. Now, I consider myself to be a perfectionist. Before uploading any of my own websites, I preview it in 5 different browsers, go through every page dozens of times searching for errors, double, triple, and quadruple check the coding, and test loading time each time I tweak a single pixel. If you expect more than that from me, you're just an anal-retentive ass who deserves to be sodomized with his own mouse. Second of all, I rarely received any work. Here's the routine: "Hey Danica, can you do this website for us by Friday, kthxbi". Website is completed and sent Thursday night. A week passes. Another week. Eventually: Oh look, feedback for that website I did 2 months ago! Back to square one! Oh, did I mention I wasn't being paid for anything I changed or fixed the second time around? Wee!

Was I fired? Nope. Quit? Not exactly. I like to think of it as more of an ellipses at the end of a sentence. See, I had this job...

Part III: Wherein our heroine designs mildly pretty things.
Admit it, you're just here for the pictures. You've endured the boring, monotonous conversation of fellow partycrashers and resigned yourself to a couple rounds of "guess what animal I am?", now bring on the free booze! (I know, my analogies rule.)

Here are a couple designs I've done over the past few months, for clients and myself. But mostly for clients. Which means I mostly despise them.

( After the beep. )

Good night!

Hello all. It's been a long time, I'm not even sure how many of you are still here. I'm alive and well, although I haven't had much to say for a long time, apparently since last April. I don't want to get into too many details about the happenings in my life since then, I simply want to dedicate this entry to the memory of a dear friend of mine who passed away this Saturday.

Her name was Jasmine. She weighed about 40 pounds and stood up to my mid-thigh. She had the brown and black colorings of a german shepherd but the build and demeanor of a border collie. She loved to sneak bites of cat food when no one was looking, and in the wintertime, she would bound about in the snow, snatching mittens off of stray hands and playfully tossing them in the air as if boasting her prize. She was terribly afraid of thunderstorms and the furnace; at the mere mention of the basement, and she would slink away with a whimper, warm brown eyes full of fear. During thunderstorms, she would cling to any leg, any corner in a room that offered solace, every bone in her body quivering. She was the most sensitive, gentle animal one could ever know, and although she had never hurt another living thing, she was prone to chasing squirrels. I don't think it was ever her intention to catch them, she just loved the thrill of the chase; her ordinarily floppy ears would perk up intently at the sight of the furry rodents, and after they successfully evaded her to dash up the nearest tree, she would prance about like a doe in a forest, her tail furiously whipping to and fro.

When we brought her home, she was a tiny ball of fluff too small and weak to climb the stairs. But we taught her that, along with the standard commands of sitting, laying, and rolling over, which to this day she could only manage halfway. We grew accustomed to spelling out words that made her perk her ears in excitement, such as "walk", "run", and "outside", which she soon learned to spell. She never had any health problems up until last month, when we noticed she was losing weight and having difficulty walking.

The veterinarian said she developed a tumor in her liver about 5 months ago, and although it was inoperable, with the right medication she could live pain free for up to to 2 years. She began taking the pills, and for the first 2 weeks she improved; she regained some weight she had lost and began going on regular walks again. Everyone was optimistic that she would last at least until Christmas, but I immediately recognized this as the calm before the storm and began preparing myself for the worst. Then it happened last week; she began refusing any food offered and struggling to move as the tumor inside her had pushed her stomach up against her spine, making it impossible for her to eat. On Friday, she couldn't even stand. My mother took her to the vet on Saturday, and when it was clear there was nothing more he could do, he gave her the shot that would let her sleep forever. By the time I heard the news on Saturday afternoon over the phone, she was already gone.

We rescued her from the humane society when I was 7. That would make her 14 when she passed, and in those 14 years she was the best, most loving pet I have known. My one regret is that I couldn't have been with her for her final year, but at the same time, I am relieved that I never had to witness her pain, because I know it would have broken my heart. Goodbye, Jazz. I will always remember you in my heart and in my memories.

I wrote this in my journal immediately after.

"I can't stop thinking that if I was there to help you, you might have gotten better somehow. Please forgive me and know that I always loved you, from the moment we first met and you licked my fingers through the cage at the Humane Society. I like to think when you did that, I chose you, but it was really you that chose me, wasn't it? I'm so sorry. You helped me through the most difficult years of my life, you loved me when it seemed as though nobody else in the world did. I am sorry that I could not help you through your pain as you helped me through mine. I love you, Jasmine."

As I'm sure any of you with pets can understand, it has been a difficult time for me. This is my first time dealing with death and I'm not sure how to handle it. I only hope that in time, I can remember her with fondness for how she lived, not with sorrow for how she died. Thank you for reading.

Hi Danica:

Just wondering about your Babysitter Club books. I was wondering whether you would like me to keep them so that you might want to give them to your daughter/son. Let us know.

Mom


Oh man, I have a daughter-slash-son now? WOW! THANKS, MOM.

Strange how in the past 9 weeks since I last clicked the "Update" link, nearly everything has changed. Okay, not everything, that may have been a tad over dramatic. But a lot is different.

For instance, I'm finally making some scratch again as a Web Production Designer. Which is essentially designing websites. I don't know why they had to try and make it sound all fancy. But the greatest thing is how quickly I was hired for the position. Week 1, I applied to a few places. Week 2, I have 2 interviews, and a few days later, 2 jobs. What exactly happened since last year, when I went on about 20 interviews for lame office positions and still had ziltch? I guess it just goes to show that if you're applying for a position you actually want, and you're not just insincerely rambling on about how much you enjoy working with people, well...it really makes a difference. And the work has actually been enjoyable. I implore you to name another job where you are allowed to do your work in your pajamas while simultaneously watching Futurama. I IMPLORE you!

School is over. I have one exam left for Popular Culture on Wednesday, and then I'm going home to the Peg for 2 months. Which is going to be just awesome, I cannot wait to get out of this stinkhole. By that I mean my apartment, not Toronto. Although it does have a signature smell. Anyway, I'll be going sans Felix for those couple months (tear :`[), he got himself a 4 month position at RIM. Yes, a 4 month RIM job. Try and say that without snickering! But if all goes according to plan, he'll be joining me for a weekend in June for my friend's wedding. It still feels weird saying that; my friend is getting married. Are we really at that age already? Sigh. Although, I have been becoming more and more aware of my aging lately. For instance, I now require about 12 hours sleep each night, no matter what time I went to bed. Felix and I are constantly complaining about the rowdiness of teenagers, claiming we were never that annoying when we were kids. Which leads to the question...what the hell is going on? I'm turning 21, not 50.

And speaking of getting older, Felix and I are going to get a taste for living together when I return. His job is in Waterloo, so we're renting out a place and I'll be staying with him for a couple months. I cannot wait to escape the clutches of his parents. The other night, he was issued a 9:30 curfew. A#H%@ILINSDGTKJN$L#.

WHEW. I think that's everything. Is anyone still around? I lost a couple comrades on eljay while I was being a mute these past couple months (like Ashley, WHAT THE HELL). Well, just to let you know, I'm still here, and I'm still reading.

You stay classy, livejournal. Thanks for stopping by.

I am greatly amused by the new "TTC Special Constables" ads I've been seeing on the subway recently. Really, they send a great message to the masses.
( Hilarity ensues. )

There's been a lot happening round these here parts. No, I did not move to the old west, which apparently is where I retrieved that gem of a phrase. However...
( Ordered List Ho. )

That's all the updating I can muster for now. Later, gators.

I would like to begin this entry by saying a belated "did not" to Katie, re: this accusation. I've been sleeping in class since before you were born! Additionally, I would like to say "woo!" in response to the A+ I received on my Art History midterm. SMRT.

It was Felix's 22nd birthday on Saturday. We went bowling with his buddies and I just barely passed 100. Yeah, I'm really not very good. I think I had more fun changing the names on the score screen than actually bowling. Needless to say, becoming THRILLHO did not help my chances. Afterwards, we came back to his house and had an 8 course meal while watching the Leafs game. Fun fun.

Now it's back to work this week. I have to buy 3 textbooks, catch up on 2 chapters of reading from each, do 2 photography assignments, get all my loan papers filled out and signed, and write a 10 page paper by the end of this week. Also, I need a job. Also, I need to get to the gym before I go up 4 sizes from all this stress eating. Yes, I'm definitely living the university life.

And now, back to not doing all those things I have to do.

Hey gang, long time no see. I've decided to utilize my last night of freedom by staying up really late and watching my newly purchased Futurama and Arrested Development DVDs while eating comfort food in bed, even if it means I'll only be semi-conscious for my first class tomorrow. And so another semester of subway snoozing begins.

I. Don't. Want. To. Go.

That aside, Christmas was the best ever. For 12 blissful days, I was home again. As soon as the strange feeling of being a visitor in my own home passed, it was like I never left, and with the best thing from Toronto by my side, it couldn't have been better. All my relatives loved Felix, in spite of his attempts at breaking the ice by putting on a fake accent and wishing everyone a "Melly Chlistmas". We stayed up late, we went out drinking with my brother and his girlfriend, we watched the Game Show Network for hours at a time, we took long walks with my dogs, we ate gigantic meals then woke up in the morning and did it all over again; in short, it was the perfect vacation. Even the weather was kind, we had a whole week of unseasonal warmth. And now I want to go back.

It's been hard adjusting back here again. My so-called "home" feels so empty. It doesn't feel like home without my brother playing guitar in the basement, my mom running on the treadmill upstairs, my dad snoring on the couch with the Weather Channel on in the background, or the dogs trying to eat the mailman. Those things used to be annoyances, but now I miss living in a house that is actually alive. I have no one to talk to here; roommate number one may as well be a mute and roommate number 2 is just a general annoyance. I'm starting to realize how much I need people around me who care.

But anyway, hopefully I can go back in a few months when this school nonsense is done with. I'll most likely have to, what with my money supply slowly dwindling away. I blame Christmas. And Boxing Day sales. Sigh.

Well. Good night, world.

Also: "Random post number" number 1240814.

So this is what it feels like to study and have it pay off.

I had my last exam today - at EIGHT IN THE MORNING; I had to get up at 5:30 to get to school on time - which I finished in under an hour. I'm such an Art History buff. Now I just have to wait for slowpoke to finish his 19 exams so we can head on home.

Man, I know I only have a few of you guys from the good old days of the web on my list, but you remember the personal site boom back around 2000? You know, when everyone and their grandmother had one, and being hosted by a cool domain was the highest honour you could receive, and the best way to promote your site was through signing every guestbook you could find? I was feeling nostalgic today, so I spent like an hour at archive.org, looking through my old sites (omg) and all my favorites from back in the day. It's weird how a piece of the internet can occupy such a huge chunk of my memory, yet I can't remember what I had for dinner two days ago. Remember endtask? Remember Tony Stone? Remember those crystal shards that everyone wanted to incorporate in their designs? Remember the obsession over brushes and using models in every single layout? Ah, memories.

Oh, who am I kidding, people still do that. But you know, the internet has never been quite so alive as it was back in the day. If you missed it, you'll never understand. But the people who were there, we know. It's the Woodstock of our generation.

Moving on. The other day, I was reminded of why I never watch award shows. I was randomly flipping past MuchMusic just in time to see Ashlee Simpson gyrating on the stage whilst singing so off key I wish she had stuck with the whole Milli Vanilli thing, followed by the award for ringtone of the year. Ringtone of the year? I have no words.

While we're on music, since everybody's doing it, I may as well. And you know, for nostalgia's sake. ( I haven't done one of these in ages. )

Well, this was fun, we should do it again sometime. My treat!

-

Addendum; Oh my God, old guestbook entries!

This may be my last journal entry for 8-10 years, as I may be going to jail for homicide very shortly. That is, if they catch me.

My first and only victim will be my housemate - rather, houseenemy - Daisy. Or as I've grown accustomed to calling her in my mind, Stupid Daisy Garbage Face. I've been tallying up all her offenses, but so far none are breaking any house rules, therefore I can't have her annoying ass immediately removed from the premises. However, the point still stands that she is annoying; repeat, annoying.

( Roommate Fun! )

On the flip side of the coin, I'm going home in 9 days, and I have one more exam to go, after which I'll have almost a month of freedom. The good has definitely triumphed over the bad.