Bembo's Zoo
Flash movie designed as promotion for the book - "a story featuring a menagerie of animals made from Bembo type characters." Much fun! -- 2005.02.28 -- 20:15 | © 2001-2003 Stacey Waspe

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Illustration Friday
Inspired by PhotoFriday.com, this is all about illustration. Even if you're not an illustrator. Themes change weekly. Very cool.

Photo Friday - The Weekly Photo Challenge
Feeling creatively restless? Need to let off some steam? Get out there and shoot. And then post. Cool.

Canada Reads - The Books (short list)
While Rockbound has become the book that "Canada Reads" in 2005, it's not one I've read. The only book on the list I've managed is Oryx and Crake, which I loved. I've got some CanLit to read.

Transit Buttons: Stick 'em on your bag, dude!
Buttons featuring replicas of the tile art and visual landmarks of Toronto's subway stations. -- 2005.02.27 -- 20:15 | © 2001-2003 Stacey Waspe

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Rescue Remedy
I never knew what to make of this stuff. But I'd always heard such good things. So yesterday, while having a not so great day at the office, I thought I'd try it. The jury may still be out, but initial reports look favourable. -- 2005.02.26 -- 20:15 | © 2001-2003 Stacey Waspe

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The Dragons Are Coming
Animal Planet looks at the science behind the myth of dragons over the centuries. Too cool.

Designer Glass Eyes at 826 Valencia
You know, everybody needs a spare set of eyes. Handy for when you want to be a pirate or something.

The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy - Adventure Game
So good. Except that I keep dying. Sigh. I suck.

Omlet - The Eglu
Because it's all about keeping chickens. -- 2005.02.25 -- 20:15 | © 2001-2003 Stacey Waspe

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Typographica: A Journal of Typography
About type and type design and all that good stuff.

Diana Gabaldon relates "One of Those Days"
Or explains "How One Writes While Living With a Family". (Not very well, sometimes, but one does it anyway.)

HBO: Sex and the City - Interiors
I'm always amazed with the sheer amount of material online about Carrie Bradshaw, everyone's fave (fictional) New-York-It-Girl. But interior shots of her (fictional) apartment? Oh-my-god. Sign me up.

Justine Larbalestier - First Novel Advance
The original post that started it all.

Justine Larbalestier - More on First Novel Advances
A few more words on first novel advances. Enlightening.

katespade.com
Fast Company has a great (and inspiring) piece on Kate and Andy Spade this month. Andy's quick rules of branding (your people are your product,etc.) are dead on.

Wow! All the crusts of bread I can eat!
A MeFi thread on first novel advances and all that other stuff.

John Scalzi's Utterly Useless Writing Advice
#7 (the art of rejection) and #10 (don't quit your day job) are recommended.

sillybean.net: Writing and Publishing 101
Great links on writing and publishing. -- 2005.02.24 -- 20:15 | © 2001-2003 Stacey Waspe

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3M Security Glass Ad (Signal vs. Noise)
Great ad campaign. -- 2005.02.22 -- 20:15 | © 2001-2003 Stacey Waspe

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Dates in Star Wars: via Answers.com
This is bloody addictive.

I Park Like An Idiot
You suck at parking! Let the world know it! (We do like the idea of slapping these on stupidly parked vehicles though.)

Above all else, it is about leaving a mark that I existed.
Keri's journal postings are always inspiring. And this month, this week, today, the quote is simply perfect.

wish jar journal: a question answered...
A little more on creative paralysis. Seems we are not alone.

SABRINA WARD HARRISON
Sabrina's first book "Spilling Open" was given to me as a Christmas gift, and it's lifted my spirits. In many ways. So thanks!

Shameless Magazine: For Girls Who Get It
A newish mag that has way more for girls than the typical hair and make-up tips. The Spring issue launched this past weekend. -- 2005.02.21 -- 20:15 | © 2001-2003 Stacey Waspe

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Random Note #1: Late Friday afternoon looking west out over Bloor Street from the office during a glorious sunset, realizing that the cool winter light was altered, was somehow warmer. Paul is taking a picture through the blinds. It is almost 6 pm and I have the delicious thought that I've made it through another cold season and that it won't be winter forever.

Random Note #2: At the juice bar on Saturday afternoon. Apart from the early morning hours that were blindingly bright with sunshine, it's been a muted, grey day. But as I am sitting there reading a book, the sun breaks through the clouds and warms me through the big window. I turn my face toward the window and close my eyes because the sun is so bright it is making me look like I am crying and I let the sun kiss my face. The sun feels so wonderful on my skin and when I sneak a glance outside, the little bits of leftover, frozen, dirty snow look sad and not the least bit menacing. It is mid-February and I feel like winter is behind me.

It seems fitting that I should be thinking about these random thoughts today, because we were blessed with another winter storm late Sunday, which dumped somewhere between 5 to 15 cm of snow on the city. From the looks of things, I think it was more rather than less.

But this morning, I have to admit, it looked pretty.

AAHHH!!! | www.dlim.org
Wow. Haven't we all had weeks like this? I'd totally volunteer for something like this. (Props to the fine folks at Veer.)

Secondhand Blows!
Possibly one of the best anti-smoking or secondhand smoke "awareness" campaigns I have ever seen.

stupid.ca
More of that "no smoking" stuff. Nicely done. -- 2005.02.20 -- 20:15 | © 2001-2003 Stacey Waspe

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HOWdesign.com - Be a Modern Day Leader
Communicate clearly. Lead by example. Oh, and a little encouragement goes a long way.

The Man in Blue > The gentle art of persuasion
Great writing, great viewpoint, great comments. I think "particularly if they themselves aren't part of the design's target group." should become a mantra or something. -- 2005.02.19 -- 20:15 | © 2001-2003 Stacey Waspe

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A few months ago, I read this great piece in How Magazine about the in-house creative team at Starbucks. You know, those crazy folks that made the oh-so-everyday-coffee hip and cool and worth many many many of your spare dollars?

When I was there this week, I happened to pick up a copy of their "Make It Your Drink" guide, and was really impressed not only by the sheer usefulness of the thing, but also by it's strong graphics and great voice. And I learned a few things about ordering at Starbucks. Now I can walk in and order a Grande Vanilla Soy Extra Foamy Tazo Chai Latte any time I want.

So I thought I'd share a bit of it, because, seriously, the part about 'the moo' made my day. Or maybe that was the Chantico and white-chocolate-chunk chocolate cookie. Yummy. Oh, and if you care to read the piece in HOW, you can get it right here.

I've wanted to be a writer for as long as I can remember, although there is evidence of other desires, like a Mother (1977), a Skater (1978) and a Ballerina (1978). Maybe a Princess. But the memories about writing are the strongest.

I remember being 13 years old, in grade 8. I'd just won a short-story contest held by the high school I'd be attending in a few months. It wasn't the first contest I'd won nor the last, but this one stands out in my mind. I am proud and fiercely protective of my words. I am talking with my teacher about the fact that I want to be a writer. He tells me that this is wrong, that I'll never make any money, that I should be a journalist instead, because journalists are writers who get paid for writing.

Fast-forward to my third year at university, after I'd picked magazine writing as my major in my four-year journalism undergrad. There are something like twenty-seven of us, sitting at desks in an uber-modern classroom. And a teacher, a well-respected writer and journalist, is telling us that if we're a really successful freelance writer, we can expect to make about $27,000 per year. Canadian. How disappointed we were. How we staggered from that classroom and took the last few dollars left over from tuition and rent and went out that night to drown our sorrows in pints of beer because we'd likely be poor forever so what difference did it make if we had to eat KD for the rest of the month?

These things happened well before I became paralyzed, became mute, unable to communicate in a creative way. When I wrote short stories and plays and poetry. And sure, lots and lots of it was juvenile. I was a shy child, an overly dramatic, angst-ridden teen. But some of it was strong and good. All me.

While I can sort of get a sense of when I stopped being creative for creativity's sake, somewhere around the end of university, I'm trying to figure out why. Fear is at the heart of it, I'm sure. Busyness too. Journalism was serious. A smart choice, serious pursuit, solid profession. Writing, the kind that I really loved, wasn't exactly serious. At least not everyday. It wasn't always smart. It was introspective and painful and emotional. It was sometimes silly and playful, without direction or purpose. Not easy, putting yourself out there. Definitely not solid.

Are we taught to believe that only remuneration makes us successful? Makes us happy? That doing something creative just for the sake of being creative, for the sake of our sanity, for the sake of creating meaning out of this existence and maybe nothing more isn't worth the effort? And when does that lesson take it's stranglehold on us? When does that piece of us that is so fearless as a child wither and die or, at least, crawl away to hide? How can we coax it out again? How can we protect it when it does come out to play?

Writing is a tortuous process. As is design and other creative endeavours. It is painful and beautiful and full of angst or goodness or both. Sometimes it blows us away. Sometimes it just plain blows. The end result can be heartbreaking. Frustrating. It can be full of "staggering genius" like Dave Eggers or be superficial and silly and yet still very real and poignant, in a Helen Fielding/Sophie Kinsella kind of way.

Creation can feel wonderful. But usually that feeling arrives after it's all over and you've given birth to something really good. You feel empty, drained, but in a good way, like after hot, sweaty, intimate sex. You've given something of yourself and you cannot ever get it back and somehow it feels so right. How many times do creatives really get to feel that way in a lifetime? And is the joy diminished by the work or words never seeing the light of day, like paintings hidden in a closet? Or by facing a client or an editor with a loud voice or big red pen?

It's like in Kissing Jessica Stein when Josh says that he critiques and edits the work of other writers who aren't as talented as him but also aren't as paralyzed. "Any artistic frustrations I feel now I just take out on them." How dark that seems and yet, while it's not something I do for a living, it's a sentiment or situation I totally understand. It feels too hard, writing, creating, being that earnest and open all the time and it becomes easier not to, especially when you can make more money doing something else. I've met people like Josh, who seem to be frustrated creatives themselves, constantly taking others down a notch, telling them they aren't very good. And at some point, no matter how hard you try, a sliver of their words and actions gets inside and starts to fester and part of you begins to believe them.

In the years since university, I have struggled to find a voice. And the creative stuff I do has become full of that voice in varying degrees, the essence of me, slightly humorous, sometimes self-deprecating, even Mark Morford-like in it's rambling twistedness. I like to tell stories about things that happen to me. I like to use words to connect to others. Sometimes as a way to humanize the communication I'm doing, especially in the corporate world. Sometimes as a type of therapy if I'm writing for me. To know how I feel about something, I need to write.

This week I realized the risk of creativity. The fear of the red pen. At the day job. Because for the most part it's the only place I'm creating something, unless it's the wee work I do on this website or the photos I'm now taking. This is a danger. Because sometimes I don't win. Sometimes I get crushed. And as much as I believe that I shouldn't give so much of myself at work, that I shouldn't let it be personal, it is. There is some element of the work I do that is me; my voice is there somewhere. I believe in my company. I believe that I can make a difference. That I can help something real to be broadcast out there and help reflect that we are real and human and wonderful and funny and smart and all that good stuff. Because we are. And so, for the most part, I put myself out there everyday. And sometimes I get burned.

Being a so-called creative is tricky, because creativity is personal. Has to be. Or the end product rings false. And when your clients are creatives too, they see through the BS really fast.

How do we face all these challenges, the red pen, the lack of faith in the work we do and not start to believe that we cannot do it? How do we keep the faith?

Maybe it's bad that we push kids into thinking about what they want to be when they grow up. How can you know what you'd like to do for the rest of your life when you're 13?

While I don't regret the path I took and certainly don't regret where I've ended up or what I'm doing, most days at least, sometimes you just have to wonder about the other path. If I'd made a different decision when I was 13, if I'd never moved away to school, never left home, if I'd studied English and read really great writers non-stop for four years, what would my life look like?

Would I have faced the corporate world? Would I be so very afraid to play?

CBC Radio | 50 Tracks | Definitive Canadian Pop Songs
I've always thought Jian Ghomeshi was kinda cute. Now he'll bring a bunch of celebs and pop culture savants together to nominate their choices. -- 2005.02.18 -- 20:15 | © 2001-2003 Stacey Waspe

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Kissing School : Seven Lessons on Love, Lips, and Life Force
Great kissing: the book (for those that aren't up to the trip to Seattle)

Kissing School
It's all about great kissing. -- 2005.02.16 -- 20:15 | © 2001-2003 Stacey Waspe

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All About Cthulhu (Answers.com)
Just in case you didn't know about Cthulhu. I swear, didn't he show up on Buffy or something? Anyone? Anyone?

Adobe Studio Presents Milton Glaser
Quite simply amazing: "The world is a very astonishing place." (Needs QuickTime, folks.)

2: The Magazine for Couples
When I first heard of this I was a little amused and, well...amused. But they've got some good articles and info and stuff. Not sure if it's for couples, per se; maybe they figure both men and women will get it. Anyway, it's all good.

The Misadventures of Hello Cthulhu
"Um...Master? Why do you have ribbons on?" "Just go kill something!" "Wait! I want ribbons too." Very strange. But funny.

ToyVault - Cthulhu Plush
Evil godlike slumbering demons seem to be just the thing, this week. -- 2005.02.15 -- 20:15 | © 2001-2003 Stacey Waspe

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NUMBER27 / The Work of Jonathan J. Harris
This is really cool. I'm going to be spending some time here. -- 2005.02.09 -- 20:15 | © 2001-2003 Stacey Waspe

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Now they're going to bed
And my stomach is sick
And it's all in my head
But she's touching his chest now
He takes off her dress now
Let me go

The Killers' Mr. Brightside has been with me much of the day.

The Song of the Day has been Placebo's Pure Morning:

A friend in need's a friend indeed,
A friend with weed is better,
A friend with breasts and all the rest,
A friend who's dressed in leather,

Twin Peaks - Wikiquote
Random quotes from Twin Peaks -- 2005.02.08 -- 20:15 | © 2001-2003 Stacey Waspe

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The Song of the Day (that song that sticks in your head that you just can't shake?) is Catherine Wheel's I Want to Touch You:

You're the only soul inside that makes me shake
And the crazy senseless things you made me take
It would really make my day
If you'd only move away
'Cause I'm scared that if you stay I'll want to touch you
I want to touch you

The whole damn thing is a vanity site, if you really think about it, so why not go a tiny bit further and wish myself a happy birthday?

I've taken issue with my birthday in the past. It's February and I live in Canada. Which means snow, cold, and illness are not unusual. They might even be expected. Ice storms were not infrequent. Friends getting off the school bus with me for the birthday party extravaganza would slide down the large skating rink that was my driveway, which was long and slope-y. Once my friend Susan fell. On my birthday present, natch. It was one of those flat round vinyl things called records. Yeah. Well, you shouldn't sit on them. Or fall. Because they break. In case you're wondering, it was Culture Club. That was Grade 7. I kept the two halves of that album until I moved away to university.

Of course, while in grade school, I usually had math exams on my birthday. Math and me don't get along so well. So that sort of sucked too. I now religiously take my birthday off work, to prevent things like random pop quizzes.

I was a child of the seventies. Born in '73 to my lovely parents, Wayne and Donna. While it is true that I looked a little like an alien when I was a baby, most people think I look not so bad now.

In 1973,Ferdinand Marcos became President of the Philippines. (For life, but then some bad stuff happened and he ran away.) In the US, the Supreme Court ruled on Roe versus Wade. Richard Nixon was president. He announced the peace accord in Vietnam. Peace pacts were signed. The first American POWs were released.

Watergate. The Exorcist. American Graffiti. The Saturday Night Massacre. Jesus Christ Superstar. Carlos the Jackal screws up his attempted assassination of British businessman Joseph Sieff. Richard Nixon said, famously, "I am not a crook."

George Foreman became heavyweight world boxing champion, defeating the undefeated Joe Frazier. I've heard of George, but not Joe. It's all about the grill, I'm sure.

Queen Elizabeth II opened the London Bridge. The new one. And the Sydney Opera House. Go Liz.

King Gustav VI Adolf of Sweden died. Carl XVI Gustav became King. One does not often think of Swedish royalty and I think this is bad.

Bobby Darin died. And J.R.R. Tolkien, Lon Chaney Jr. and Bruce Lee. Neve Campbell is born. So is Tori Spelling. And Monica Lewinsky.

Journey, KISS and AC/DC are born too. If one can use the verb in relation to bands.

Russians launch the Mars 5 space probe. Though they were called Soviets then. Up here in Canada, Pierre Trudeau was Prime Minister. Women swooned. We began constructing the CN Tower. And other stuff. I'm sure we did other stuff that year. Although the CN Tower is pretty big, so maybe not.

Schoolhouse Rock! premiered, as did The Six Million Dollar Man. Around the world, 1.5 billion people from 40 countries watched Elvis: Aloha from Hawaii. Why, I'm not sure. My Dad was probably one of them. Crocodile Rock and Goodbye Yellow Brick Road by Elton John were extremely popular. As was Superstition by Stevie Wonder. What a great year.

I am lucky enough to share February 4th as a birthday with Charles Lindbergh (1902), Rosa Parks (1913), Dan Quayle (1947) and Alice Cooper (1948). Of them all, I think I've always been most excited about Alice.

Today's trivia brought to you by the letters "s", "l" and "w" and the number "4".

{ Typophile } found type gallery
A gallery of found type.

The Hivelogic Narrative by Dan Benjamin
Good blog by one of the "A List Apart" and "The Morning News" dudes. Read his biography and you'd think he doesn't sleep. And while it's true, it's probably because he's playing with his GameBoy. -- 2005.02.03 -- 20:15 | © 2001-2003 Stacey Waspe

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Brevity: A Journal of Concise Literary Nonfiction
In 750 words or less. -- 2005.02.02 -- 20:15 | © 2001-2003 Stacey Waspe

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ITMS Link Maker
Make links to any one of Apple's iTMS stores

Alternative Canadian Walk of Fame - Inductee: Hammy Hamster
Being from the backwater of LaSalle, Ontario, I didn't actually experience Hammy the Hamster until one childhood March break spent in Toronto. The whole family spent many fine mornings that week watching Hammy. Gotta love him! -- 2005.02.01 -- 20:15 | © 2001-2003 Stacey Waspe

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There is a man in my neighbourhood who, instead of asking for spare change, often asks me if I'd like to buy a drawing. His name is Leslie King.

Yesterday, while I was at the juice bar, natch, he was there, selling his wares, so I did. He didn't want very much money for it. Only $2.

The one I chose he drew from memory, of a kids game he had seen in 1959. Which he tells me they still sell in a toy store at Yonge and College. He draws one "Tetrahedron" drawing like this every month, at the end of the month.

When I told him my name, he sang a few lines from Stacy's Mom by Fountains of Wayne, which I bought on New Year's Eve day, because I think it's funny.