This will, unfortunately, be my last post from across the pond, we are headed back to N. America tomorrow. I certainly don't want to leave, home is the last thing on my mind, but being as sick as I am, I kind of need a rest and my own bed to sleep in. I came down with a bit of a cold yesterday and of course today, even with treatment, it has gotten worse and I feel miserable (poor me, I know). This morning I went down to Portobello Market, it was lovely. Tons of antiques and wonderful little trinkets. I was lucky enough to come across exactly what I was looking for, old wood type. If I had had more funds, I would have bought the whole lot, but I did pick up a nice Type case with the Fleet Street stamp on it, as well as a nice little handle engraved with the name Caslon, being from the foundry of that name. History people, history. I also got a few pieces of type, of which I will happily photograph and post later on, bunches of Z's, Y's and E's. Now I am off to hop on tube, down to Waterloo and get on the London Eye, take in one last breathtaking view of this amazing city, get some photos and freeze my arse off outside.

The last two days have been filled with the beauty of the printed word, specifically sacred texts and historical books, that of which I have only read about. Yesterday we visited the British Library, after two hours absorbing an amazing Chinese Printmaking exhibit and standing in front of books like the first New Testament, written in Greek in the 10th century; Gutenburg's 42-line Bible; a 10th century Bhagavad Gita, plus others like Mozart and Bach's music, all written by their own hand; I ran out of time and think I may have to go back, just to look once more, in amazement. Today was St. Bride's Printing Library. I was able to sit and look through the pages of Bibles printed by Baskerville himself, as well as drawings by Mathew Carter and Eric Gill himself, the Gill Sans drawings. I am running out of time so I have to type quickly, last night I went to a 17th century pub where the Doves Press and Kelmscott press sat! I wil post links later- gotta run!

I adore London, but I loved Amsterdam even more. I think I accidentally left a part of me there, which of course I will eventually have to return to claim. I was sad leaving yesterday - the ground covered in a light dust of snow, that of which had started falling the day before, as the sun was shining, it was tremendously beautiful and I can't seem to get the image out of my mind. I took many photos, almost all of which are 35mm film, so it may be a little bit of a wait before I get to post any. Yes, I am in love with Amsterdam, now I just have to figure out a good plan of action for my return - and possibly my settlement?
After a good rest, I am up and ready for Pentagram today. Because of my increasingly awkward sleeping habits, I have been up before the sun almost every day, as I am now, I am even up before the coffee. Pentagram, great studio visit planned for us today, the British Library in the afternoon - should be quite exciting. My time is almost up, and this UK keyboard is driving me nuts, all kinds of punctuation is in a different spot. My editing may not be clean, I apologize. Until next time...

Hello from Jolly England! I am already in love with London! After recovering from well over 24 hours of no sleep, all is well and I am getting ready to head of to Amsterdam in the next 15 minutes. So far on my journey I have taken slow walks through Kensington, where I am staying, and have drank enormous amounts of coffee. The only complaint that I have is an incredible sinus infection that made me cry while on the descent into Heathrow yesterday. The altitude change made my head feel like it was going to explode and still I have an incredibly bad headache. I am trying to take enough medication so that my flight this morning won't end in tears. London is cold, really really cold, so today I will need to buy some mittens. I should get moving, my time is about over on this pay per use computer and I must stroll through the beautiful old park to meet Calliope and head off to Holland. Until next time! Cheers.

Oh the paper is done, thank the good, whatever, for blessing me with the ability to turn words into bullshit, or vice versa? Anyways, I figured I would post one last time before my trip to London tomorrow, just to rub it in a little more. I am going to be having fun and you're not. Well, that isn't necessarily true, I take it back. No, I don't. I will try to post a little doo dad here and there from underneath the haze of dark, black beer – maybe even a photo or two. All depends on how much I want and need to sit in front of a computer that I will most likely have to pay for, whilst on a lovely vacation. Don't fret, there will be stories, drawings and photos galore upon my return. ciao!

After a 1500 word critique on blue-jeans and popular culture, I can finally relax and prepare for my trip to London tomorrow. BUT, only after the paper is done. Meanwhile, earlier today I was treated to a lovely little lescture givin by one of Canada's only private book printer/publisher, Crispin Elsted of the Barbarian Press. He gave a summary of the history behind book printing and private presses, as well as showing us some of his own personal collection of antique and contemporary books, all printed at private presses. This collection included first editions of Dickens, fourteenth century European prayer sheets (see photos below) and original books from the Kelmscott press, as well as a re-printed (but remember, still letterpressed) version of the Kelmscott Chaucer (this acting as a teaser, since I will get to see an original next week). Below are examples of the prayer sheet from the fourteenth century, Tuscany.




After deciding to skip class, due to excessive homework, I stopped off at the liqour store. I stopped because I had my camera and the ROBO-HOBO was out front! I spotted him for the first time last week and thank goodness I had my camera this time! His sign reads, "Robo-Hobo, needs some beer, please insert your coin right here!" And he plays punk music!


So hilarious. Then I decided I needed a beer.

Just in case I would forget what some of my clothes and other belongings looked like when I go to pack this week, I made a list of items, some accompanied by illustrations of their appearance. Whenever I pack for a trip, I become borderline obsessive compulsive and I organize everything like Martha might plan out a dinner for the pope. I suppose I feel like I need to have anything and everything that I would need to feel comfortable and secure while away from home. What if it rains? I need a good jacket(s) or hat(s). What if it gets too warm? I need the perfect, most versatile t-shirt(s). What if my red bracelet doesn't match my skirt? I need to bring 5 others so that I will have some options.


It is OK, you can say it – I know I'm a little crazy.

This Valentine's Day, aka, day of pink shit and fluff, finds me relaxing at home with two very large bottles of Quebecois stouts, a ruler and some pencils. This day has been long, beginning early in a heavy downpour of cold rain, ending tired and exhausted after drawing diagrams and mock-ups for the proof of concept phase of one of my term projects. The next two days will be a serious cram session – staying indoors to complete all my drawings, writing a paper, writing a proposal for another paper, and uh, lots more. I'm desperately going to try and not daydream about how one week from this very moment I will be staggering around the tiny streets of Amsterdam, drunk off my bum, possibly singing typographic rock operas underneath a red light, or how my little basket attached to my lovely little bicycle will be filled with flowers and coffeehouse treats, as I ride around, possibly singing typographic rock operas.

If all you 'mericans out there can't decided on who to vote for this election, try punching your card for the Gay Penguin. On a related topic, there is a Monster in a Wheelchair, and he sings. I say these two are related because a) they are the last two funny sites I have visited, and b) they both use Copperplate Gothic as their body text and headers, the most hated typeface of the year, er, ever, hated by me. I'm sorry, but I'm not voting for the Gay Penguin, simply because he used this face for his website. Sorry dude, a vote for the Copperplate Penguin, is simply a vote for Bush. And to Mr Monster in a Wheelchair, I am going to cut him just a little slack because he is handicapped, and well, a monster – they are both hideous, so I suppose it is fitting.

You can do anything at Zombo.com, anything.

“… but with God delegating the responsibility of determining monster-naming conventions to me. I am being absolutely serious right now. One of the rules provided that male monsters be given the suffix “lor,” if their animal-root names ended in a vowel. For example, a monster-sized tarantula would now be named TARANTULOR. If that tarantula is female, however, she would be given the suffix "lara." As in TARANTULARA.”
I urge you to read this post (of which I took the previous quote) over at Tremble.com. Then make sure you read everything else on the site – everything he writes makes me wanna pee my pants.

My short hair has grown on me – well not literally, I am sure maybe a fraction of an inch or something – I mean that I am getting used to it and honestly it is quite fun. I can sport a faux-hawk and bed-head is nicely intensified. For the first time in years I bought some hairspray, that is something I haven't done in a long while, I wasn't quite sure what to get. So I relied on my design instincts and looked for good use of type and packaging. I'm not so sure I got the right product, as I haven't had a chance to test it out, but the screaming yellow bottle tells me that this stuff will spike my hair and keep it in place – I think it is called spiking cement, or glue. Should work, and at least it doesn't smell, I hate hairspray that smells.
It is a nice funky do that will be a perfect fit for my upcoming trip to Europe, like next week! I'm already fussy about parts that need a good trimming, so I might check out a salon in London or perhaps Amsterdam. Who is to say that the same thing wouldn't happen again, to this poor and mistreated head of hair? With its length now, I could easily go to 10 dollar barbershops and mom & pop salons, wouldn't make much of a difference. I'm still gonna smother it in glue.

Just to give an update on the previous post about my date with a new salon. I didn't think he could fuck it up, but he managed to. I actually made him stop because I couldn't stand to watch anymore! My natural bad-hairdresser instinct kicked in the minute I walked in the door, and saw him, this hippie man with a fro standing there patiently. But, I am a nice enough person to not turn and run instantly, I thought to myself that I cannot judge a book by its cover. Jeez, I wish I would have. First of all, it took him about 20 minutes to trim the neckline – let me just mention I am a PRO at getting my hair done, I have been doing it for years, and was even a hair model for 2 years for a friend as he went through beauty school, I have had the best of the best and the worst of the worst touch this head o'mine. It does not take 20 minutes to trim a neckline, and usually that part doesn't come first. Everything he was doing was all wrong, the way he clipped my hair, the angle at which he cut it, completely wrong and mostly backwards. Then he chopped it all, all that I told him not to touch, he chopped. Because my hair is very curly, I decided not to make a fuss until it had been blow-dried. My frown become larger and larger and I saw my cheeks turning bright red – he had butchered my head. I tried to stay calm, thinking of polite ways to let him down that he had given me the opposite of what I wanted, I did not ask for crap! Then, he pulled out the scissors again and that is when I put my foot down, "STOP! I am done here and so are you. This is not at all what I wanted…" I continued to explain that one side was longer than the other, on top of the fact it was about an inch shorter than what I had expected, he argued of course, saying that in fact he hadn't cut any length off. I was like, dude are you fucking BLIND or what? My hair is GONE, what do you mean you didn't cut any length off? I grabbed my belongings, threw down my money (what was I thinking? I should not have paid, but I'm not that evil), and immediately put on my to-the-rescue hat and I was out the door. I immediately got on the phone and made an appointment at my regular salon, of course they can't squeeze me in for a couple more days. When I got home, the first thing I did was get out the hair tools an I started choppin away. I must say I did a pretty good job, considering the hair is SUPER SUPER ass short now, like it hasn't been this short in years and I never intended it to be, but this evil hippie man forced me to complete the hack job. But it does look pretty good, and thankfully I can now cancel my appointment with the good guys, and save 60 bucks. *sigh* Never, ever again will I visit a salon simply for convenience.

A couple of sketches from my day at the beach.



Today I face a challenge that is both exciting but also a little frightening at the same time. I have a date with a salon, a salon unfamiliar with me and I unfamiliar with it. Exciting because I love a good hair cut like any other girl; scary because I have had very unpleasant experiences in my past, with stylists who have created a massacre upon my head, leaving me an emotional wreck in front of the mirror. I am very particular about who does my hair, for many years I refused to even try new stylists – though this weekend I made this decision based mainly on my laziness to head across town to my current hair-man and to try someone local, someone right down the street. I also want to try and save a few bucks; I do frequent one of the most expensive salons in town. I am only getting this mop cut – I figure he can't fuck it up TOO bad, I like my hair messy anyways, plus the sign out front is pretty neat. However, color will have to wait, that I am very, very anal about and I have to get a sense of what this salon is like before I will even let them touch my head with bleach and dye.

“Destiny is hard to seize. It's impossible to control every step you will take. But by doing, by making, by generating energy, you cause things to happen.” I couldn't agree more, and from this point forward, whenever I am feeling as though I'm not going to succeed or get anywhere with my work, I will think of these brilliant words by Danny Gregory.
I know I post links to his site often, but I cannot help it! He truely has become so inspiring for me and I have to share the love.

The sun decided to make an appearance today in Vancouver, it seems like it is the first time in months. I took advantage of this remarkable weather and hopped on my bike for a lovely little trip to the beach, my sketchbook and of course the iPod tagged along. As I sat observing the waves and all the people bundled in their winter coats, I spotted two enormous bald eagles soaring above my head, along with a couple dozen or so seagulls. They seemed to just float in one spot, barely moving at all, showing off their wing spans as jealous little seagulls bounced all around them like small children on a sugar high. I think this pair of stunningly elegant eagles were out for the same reason everyone else was, to enjoy the amazing view of English Bay. The seagulls on the other hand, were there to be annoying.Go here for a live webcam of the bay.

"When you stand near trees, they will be knocked down by lightening and you will be killed by lightening! There is no escape."Ohh goodness, my tummy hurts from laughing so hard at the expense of some kid who can't write, but certainly tries.

There is a plan in the works for tomorrow's complex type class. Our teacher has some Zapfino prints to give to us, though there aren't quite enough to go around. A suggestion was made, by myself I think, to come up with the best type related joke to win these prints. Well you know I suggested this because tricky pup and I have been practicing our type jokes, and laughing hysterically over them, we are totally gonna kick everyone's ass with our routine. Sock puppets have been discussed, randomly pulling out our home-made sock friends during class and letting them pull terribly dry phrases out of their back pockets, things like: Hey, what did Sans say to the Serif? Evolve already! *chuckle chuckle* That is funny shit, come one people! Like I said, a whole routine is in the works. I'll let you know how it turns out.

Oh, and yes, you did just read a post about a nearly 27 year old making sock puppets that tell type jokes – it is true.

Tuesdays are always tough, I have two difficult academic classes, both of which force you to think critically and having the brain turned on and focused is essential to keeping up with the lectures, presentations and class discussions. After noon-time beers and chicken strips; one beer I must mention, since I am a beer snob, was absolute crap. I have had canned piss that tasted better than this winter ale from the island brewery. Anyways, marketing for design is my afternoon class – today was quite interesting and I had a difficult time trying to keep my mouth shut after a couple of drinks, however, I succeeded at this seemingly simple task; Me + Drinks = No Self Restraint. We were shown a very interesting study done last year by the BBC, a poll which consisted of about 11,000 participants from various countries around the globe. This study was all about, and titled What the World Thinks of America. Though much of it was humorous and in no way do I take offense to it personnally, I did start to feel a little uneasy when questions regarding how people looked at Americans and what words best describe Americans, especially since most of the world considered us to be arrogant. I felt a little defensive, I guess since being the only American in a room full of Canadians. Some of you may have heard of this study, it is interesting and quite laughable, really. Jordan apparently hates our guts, and well, so does France, but that is nothing new, and well most of the planet. But hey, they dig American pop culture. Oh how I miss my arrogant, sex hungry, politically corrupt friends and family, I can't wait to go home.


Ok, so I had to get rid of some of the kids, well the lil' animated guys over on the side, under Adopted Pixels. They were moving, and moving way too much – they had to go (gee, someday I will be a great parent). I must have gotten all wrapped up in the moment, I went on a compulsive adoption spree, grabbing cuties left and right, without thinking of the consequences. I mean, come on who can resist a cat that just wants a hug and a monkey that dances? Shit, what was I thinking adopting animated gifs? This isn't the late 90's and I am not typically the kind of girl who put things like dancing bananas and pink smileys all over the place – but for some reason I turned into crazy-animated-gif lady, kinda like the crazy cat lady, but with, um, gifs.

To all of those whom I love, have loved and will love in the future, my birthday is coming up, you see, and I have a very deep desire, a dream you could call it, to attend the greatest rock show this century has seen – oh but if only I had a job, I could buy pay for my airfare to California! *sniff* Woe is me! Please, friends… can ya help a poor girl out? *sniff* It is terrible and evil to let a girl cry tears of sadness, but oh, to let her cry tears of JOY!

I totally love that I had no freakin clue it was Superbowl Sunday. Canadians just don't give a hoot (although you certainly know when there is a hockey playoff). Living in the states, you cannot ever get away from the Superbowl excitement, regardless of whether or not you are a fan, one always is aware of who is in the game, and what day it is accompanied by the multi-billion dollar advertisements for sugar saturated soft drinks promoted by the hot pop star of the moment, and salt infested potato slices, fried in Bud Light.

Go here, listen, and get wet doing it.