I'm like, totally professional

For a class we have to choose a magazine to completely redesign. I'm not sure that I'd like to do one of the magazines that I currently read, because I like them...that's why I read them. I enjoy the layout, the content, the photography... There are some things that I would change, but in general, they're pretty good.

But here comes the dilemma...I have an idea for a different type of magazine that I would like to redesign. Not a magazine that I read, not a magazine that I would read were it better designed. Just a really atrocious magazine. It is called.....Tiger Beat! I used to buy Tiger Beat back in the day when the walls in my room were plastered with JTT posters and staying up until 9:00pm meant we had a cool babysitter. But the problem is this: I think these magazines look like shit and are a disrespect to the teeny boppers that read them. Just because the content is trash, doesn't mean that the magazine should look like trash. HOWEVER, I don't know if my design teacher will take me seriously if I hand in a project with the cast of Twilight on the cover.

Tomorrow I'm going to scan the shelves in the neighbourhood 7-11 in search of a respectable magazine in need of a facelift. And if I can't find one...then I need to find the perfect font to encapsulate just how totally HOT Miley Cyrus's fold-out poster is.

Thoughts

There's nothing quite like watching someone run after the bus. It's like an awkward little glimpse into their character.

It had to start somewhere

When I was a kid, someone told me a lie. A specific lie that lead to compulsive behaviour that lasted for years. I don't know who told me this lie or why it stuck with me, but someone once told me that if you found a mistake in a book, you could call the publisher, and you would get an award. I believed this person, and for years I would copyedit books as I read them. I still do. Back then it was an obsession. I can't remember when I found out that this "award" didn't exist, but I do remember that it blew my mind. It was like the time in grade five that my teacher corrected my spelling of the word "believe". I had been spelling it "belive" for my entire literate life. THAT blew my mind. I still remember feeling shocked and disgusted. I'm pretty sure that's when I became fixated on proper spelling. These just might be the reasons that I grew up wanting to be an editor.

Maximum Capacity

I've learned a lot being student again. I can spread takeout over 3 days of school lunches. I can get ready in the morning, eat breakfast, make coffee, check bus times, and get out the door in less than 15 minutes. I've learned that the motivational factor of Timbits outweighs anything and everything. I've also learned so much in my classes that it feels like my brain needs to stand up, stretch its legs, and take a big deep breath. We're nearing the end of one of our major projects and the days are getting longer and the mornings are getting earlier.

Despite my crammed schedule, the never-ending pages of readings, and my to-do list that has grown so quickly it must have discovered how to asexually reproduce...I'm continually trying to keep up with wedding planning on the side. Back at the end of August I told myself that I was putting the brakes on wedding planning until Christmas break, but any bride (or woman, for that matter) can tell you that it's impossible. There's no switch in your head that you can flick on and off, willy nilly, to block out invitation layouts and dress styles and centerpieces. I should also mention that Luc's older sister had a fabulous wedding this weekend that threw my brain into wedding overdrive.

So now, after telling myself to focus on school, start a wedding dress diet, and leave the planning until Christmas break, I'm sitting at the computer, eating a chocolate bar and fawning over flower arrangements and hotel options for our guests. Go team!

Derelicte

I have an objection with people who dress like slobs and carry designer handbags. I’m not a fashionista, and I don't live by a stringent set of couture codes, but I do think a Chanel purse coupled with a pair of inside-out, frayed sweatpants makes you look like a FOOL. Knowing that this getup is the outfit-equivalent of putting ketchup on a filet isn’t some kind of clandestine knowledge. I wouldn’t even call it a rule – just common sense. For instance, I know that if I’m wearing a gown, I’m probably not going to pair it with an old hoodie. Just like I wouldn’t wear a pearl necklace to the gym. Everyday sensibility. So the next time you see some crazy girl walloping a hobo over the head with a Louis Vuitton clutch, it’s just me trying to smack some sense into another lost soul.

Confessions

I bought a pair of Spanx to wear under the dress I'm wearing to Luc's sister's wedding this weekend - and then I put them on, looked in the mirror, had a hearty laugh at the lengths that we go to in order to look a certain way, and then I returned them.

Ladies and gentlemen, the crazy recorder neighbour...

I was only able to dangle the camera out the window for the the tail end of her performance before the battery died, but I think you get the idea. I'll be sure the battery's fully charged when we're treated to another splendid musical performance.

Neighbour playing the recorder from Kristen Gladiuk on Vimeo.

Is an eBook really a book?

One of the readings for a class this week was about eBooks and reading on the Amazon Kindle. As you can imagine, in a publishing program, this topic comes up often. I think it's great that people are reading, I just don't like the idea of the eBook trying to replace a real book. I hate it when people try to predict the extinction of print - whether it be books, magazines, or newspapers. But I don't see eBooks as real books. To me, eBooks take all of the elements that make a book a book and get rid of them. Poof! Or, I guess "zap" would be better. Click? Whatever.

One of the comments in the article I read was from a man who said eBook pages are great because they don't flutter in the wind. That right there is an example of how we're taking the human out of everything.  Obviously a screen doesn't flutter in the wind - but I would call that a con, not an advantage over print books. I want to feel the pages, even if they flutter out of my fingers every now and then. I like running my hands over the textured pages and tracing the tips of my fingers over the cover design. I want to see what kind of font they used and how the chapters are organized.

My feelings towards eBooks are akin to the feelings I harbour for screw top wine bottles. I'm not a wine snob. I just like the old fashioned way; the romance and the routine. I recognize that it's easier to skip the corkscrew and get straight to the drinking, but that doesn't concern me. Taking the time to open the bottle is all part of the process. I understand that the introduction of the screw top wasn't intended as a time saver, but I'm just saying...I like doing it the old way. Some people won't agree, but I think uncorking the wine can be just as pleasurable as drinking the wine.

It's the same with books. I know that I could download an eBook from the web in seconds, but I like visiting the bookstore. And the feeling of finishing a great book is doubled when you file it on your shelf, and it sits there obediently, looking beautiful. Or when you lend that book to a friend. A few years ago I got a used copy of The English Patient that someone had written notes in.

I had no mirrors in my house for three years. Yet - I could always see my reflection: the children, the neon lights, the faces of the Filipino and Russian prostitutes, the eyes of taxi drivers in the rearview mirror, in the raindrops, in the journals, in the music, in the movement. I was never as unaware of what I looked like as I was in Japan - and yet, I was most conscious of how I appeared. 

As soon as I can find something like that in an eBook, maybe I'll change my mind. Maybe. Because it's not just about the words on the page. Reading an eBook is convenient. Reading a print book is an experience. It's about everything that goes into making them, everything that comes out, and everything that follows.

I will say this: eBooks aren't all bad. Just like screw top wine bottles. But I think print will disappear at the same time the french warm up to the idea of twisting a lid off their wine.

I suppose I'm the crazy neighbour now

Late last night, with my hair in wild tangles, dressed in my sponge bob pajama pants, an old tshirt, and my pink rubber boots, I ran up and down the streets outside our apartment looking for my friend's car. She lives across the street from me and it's her birthday today (Happy Birthday Callie!), so I wanted to leave something for her to find this morning. I had printed a picture (and put it in a ziploc bag to avoid the morning dew), and planned to slip it under the windshield wiper so it would be there waiting when she drove to work this morning.

Upon finding her car, I noticed that the sunroof was open about 4 inches. This opening presented a second option: dropping the picture inside the car onto her seat. But what if it fluttered down onto the floor? What if she sat on it and didn't notice? MAYBE....just maybe I could stick the edge of the ziploc bag in the sunroof track so it got caught and was left hanging there. That would be awesome.

For you to understand how this looked, you must know that I had the crooked smile of a completely ravenous lunatic on my face. And I was still laughing to myself about the cat picture that I had printed out. As I had part of my arm inside the sunroof, still laughing away like a fool, someone was walking by and staring at me. Sure, I knew what I was doing - just something nice for a friend. But what did it look like to the passerby? I didn't consider that at the time. But probably like a crazy woman trying to find a car to break into to talk to her invisible giraffe in private.

But whatever...at least I don't play the recorder.

Wake up call

Someone new moved in downstairs, and of all the annoying habits and quirks that neighbours can possess, ours plays the recorder. That stupid little plastic "instrument" that is only capable of hitting so many notes, making each song sound strangely similar. The same instrument that is generally reserved for children who can't manage the intricacies of a real instrument yet. The instrument that, in most households, ends up being hidden, deep in a cluttered closet because it produces the most inelegant, irritating sound that drives families to the brink of insanity. Ours were taken away repeatedly as kids. It was really more like a weapon of extreme torture than a tool of musical expression.

This morning Luc lined up for a Mountain Equipment Co-op sale at 5:30am. He snagged some really great showshoes at an enormous discount, so it was worth it...but obvisouly he hit a wall of exhaustion this afternoon. Being the supportive fiance that I am, I joined him for an afternoon nap. The sun was shining in through the bedroom window and a light breeze blew in every few minutes. It was very pleasant until our awesome new neighbour started tooting away on their recorder.

Initially, I was confused. I was in the sort of state where dreams and reality blend together and you're still mad at your boyfriend for ditching you at the miniature monkey museum to make jam with Hannah Montana. Upon opening my eyes I was face to face with Luc, whose eyes were also wide open. The slight raise of his eyebrows told me that I wasn't hearing things. I wasn't dreaming. Someone was playing the recorder and he heard it too. If I stood up and looked outside, I wouldn't find a Medieval Fair below our bedroom window. Even still, I kept expecting to hear a wench yell out "huzzah" and tent full of drunken jesters to break out in old-timey laughter...whatever that sounds like.

We slid out of bed and walked on shaky legs to the window. It was our neighbour, no question about it. The out of tune notes sailed up and smacked us in the face. I hope to god it's a phase.

Reading

White Teeth  - Zadie Smith

My fiance, the ass...

It's been brought to our attention that Luc and I aren't the only pair of our kind. As I mentioned a few days ago, we sent out our save the dates, and our guests have begun to peruse our wedding website. One of Luc's friend's tried to get to our website by googling our names: kristenandluc
He found a site...he found Kristen and Luc...but not the ones he was looking for. Here's my favourite highlight from the site:
"Kristin jumped on Luc giving him his first bareback experience"
And here is the site itself:
AWESOME DISCOVERY

October Banner

Monthly Photo - October 2009

Kits Beach at sunset