Franz Ferdinand. Listen. I have been and I am a better person for it. I am also a better person for seeing The Decemberists last night, and getting the VIP treatment. Guest listed, free drinks, oh yeh and special VIP seating on the side of the stage with the two opening bands, various headlining band-members and my favorite illustrator Carson Ellis, girlfriend of Decemberists frontman, Colin Meloy. I had the best seats in the house, in the best venue in San Francisco, and aside from all the glory, the show was fantastic-o! They played around, joked and made fun of each other, all the while singing incredible, better-in-person melodies with heart-breaking lyrical tales and of course threw in an accordian/electric guitar battle (i'd have to say the accordian won) – creating some of the best live music I have heard in a long time. I'm going back for more next week when Icelandic wonders Müm take the stage. Yup, good things happen in this city.

OOh, I have Gmail, aren't you jealous? Well, I say that with a hint of sarcasm, I am not so sure I will ever use the damned thing. I have too many e-mail addresses as it is. But, if say, someone wants to send me pirated software, music, etc that simply is just too large for standard e-mail, then by all means send it to the Gmail account baby, its a whole GB! That is pretty impressive, however I must say that my standard Mac mail app. is perfect for all my e-mailing needs (we are not talking about storage space). So, while I am outside laying under the sun, trying to keep the bugs off and drowning out the sounds of the Gay Pride festivities, please send me an e-mail to my Gmail, and uhh what else rhymes with mail? I'm gonna bail. Thank goodness there is no hail. Watch out for the rail, you slimey snail.

High heels and web surfin. They go hand in hand don't they? Oh yeh and a bottle of beer. Three of my favorite pals. I did a little shoe shopping today, let me tell you it felt good. And all completely necessary, I have a dozen skirts here I can't wear with my big winter boots anymore, or can't wear at all because they just don't go with tennis shoes and socks. Now the frillies won't feel lonely and neglected, they get to strut their stuff under the sun with two new pairs of sexified shoes: one pair of KC Reaction Mary Janes w/nice chunky heels and one pair of silvery metallic, beaded heels by Sketchers. Yeh better believe it, Sketchers makes heels now and they are pretty nice. So to break them in a little, I am wearing them as I blog. Happy girl, happy day.

I am in one of those moods, watch it. If you get an e-mail from me filled with complaints, you probably deserve it. If not, then I think you might be in the clear. I am on an e-mailing rampage, all going in one particular direction – my school. Every semester, it is the same story: web registration begins and those who must wait till day two because of the placement of the last name in this hierarchical system they have created, we know it as the alphabet, get *%@!ed from behind. Why? Because our registration system, though supposedly technologically advanced cause it's on the 'web,' is pretty far from advanced and always leaves us feeling stressed and angry. This school, and the program I am in especially, creates one section for practically every course knowing damned well the class is already overcrowded and most all of the 45-50 students will be wanting/needing the class, after all they are kinda required to graduate. So instead of creating more sections, and I know what you are thinking, perhaps they don't have the class space/money/teachers to do it – total bullshit, I fell for that the first year. Instead they raise the class size from 45 to about 80 for the new year coming in, hire new teachers and create new classrooms for this booming young crowd, but leave us – the ones who have worked so hard and fought through registrations and fought to squeeze ourselves into the barely visible space in required courses for the last couple of years, are once again, being forced to challenge the system we have so painstakingly placed ourselves into. I registered approx. one and one half hours after registration started on the second day and every single course required of me to take is full/closed. My only option is to put myself on a waitlist that will not really guarantee anything. I have been to a couple of schools in my day, schools with far larger class sizes (in the hundreds) and far less sophistication and money – yet registration was always as easy as pie and I can never recall having one issue with getting into a course. Bottom line people, if I pay 12-15G a year to attend a school which I worked so hard to get into, moved to another country for, a school supposedly holding a reputation to be admired, then I, WE MUST be guranteed spots in the classes that are required for us to take for graduation. Why is this so difficult to understand? Why is this NOT being done?

My ranting may get me nowhere, but at least it makes me feel a little less bad. Cover the kids eyes cause I am gonna curse: fuck you Emily Carr Institute and your bullshit, get your shit together and make your students happy for once. Thank you.

I can't think of anything to blog about. It is strange that I have this need to blog something, to blog about this and blog about that – blog blog blog. Gotta keep the people happy, therefore I blog.
blog.
blog.
TypeCon! Yes, there is something to blog a bit about. [mmm, say that really fast] Planning is under way for the festive typographic event next month – I have signed up for two workshops that I am very excited, I mean x-heighted about. [yeh so this post may be similar to tricky's] I am taking a half-day workshop with John Downer on Script Lettering in the era of showcards: "Showcard writing, once a flourishing trade in the days of vaudeville … John will bring several styles back to life in this rare reappearance of elegant lettering from the 1920s, '30s, '40s, and '50s."
I will also be attending a workshop on Digital type and typography for letterpress: "This workshop will look at digital type and typography, and the photopolymer plates often used to print from electronically generated copy … We'll compare text printed letterpress from hot metal type with their digital versions printed from photopolymer plates. In this context, we will discuss fonts that are better suited for letterpress use, and consider makeready/presswork issues with photopolymer plates, such as ink squeeze, paper, and depth of impression. Finally, we'll consider fine-tuning font designs for letterpress use." Very exciting stuff – I am SO ready to LEARN, I have never been filled with such anticipation for absorbing knowledge and of course rubbing shoulders. And well I can't forget about the cocktail party and the schmoozing party and then the party at Sumner Stone's Alphabet Ranch somewhere in a valley where we get to take a shuttle, cause like, we can't drive after that much typographic boozing. Huzzah!

I am rocking out. In some cases I am weeping on the inside, weeping from the sheer beauty of guitars blended with depressing, yet gorgeous vocals. This is a good year for music, and the number of shows I am guest-listed for is growing steadily [some on the list below]. Since I have seriously been neglecting my music list over there in the right column, here is a short list of some of the musical sweetness that has been tickling my ear drums as of late:

The Wrens
The Velvet Teen
Sufjan Stevens
Müm
Broken Social Scene [Better than chocolate, this one]

Today my goal was to find the buffalo. And I did, actually I was there just a couple of days ago on my bike, but never realized that the tree stumps in the meadow were actually bison. So today, I found the buffalo for a second time. I am glad I reached my lazy saturday goal, however, a little disappointed in the gigantic beasts. Maybe I was hoping for something a little more stimulating, like crazy, rabid buffalo fighting over territory. Bashing their heads together and scraping their feet in the dirt, alerting the others that they might charge and kick some buffalo ass. Or perhaps I was hoping there were be some crazy natives (golden gate park natives might come in the form of drugged out hippies or Janis Joplin look-alikes – wait she was a drugged out hippie) stalking their prey in the wilderness, hiding behind bushes and rocks with giant bow and arrows or spears, ready to take home a bit o' buffalo meat for the kids. Instead I found a few buffalo sitting on the ground, not moving, looking like tree stumps. I took a picture and went looking for the Dutch windmill. This was much more pleasing. As the feirce winds of the Pacific practically kept my wheels from turning, I saw the magnificence of the giant windmill. It was surrounded my lovely flower beds and little pathways leading into the forest. Its massive arms looked over the Pacific Ocean and cliffside houses which were hanging on for dear life. I rode along the ocean front, fighting the winds and loosing battles with the sand that left welts on my arms and flew under my eyelids. The beach looked nice, but being there was a different story. I quickly escaped back into the park where I would not be bothered by the evil forces of nature, the Pacific is like the Darth Vader of seas.

As I made my way back into the city, I stopped a few times along the way to capture images via and pen and paper – images of the Conservatory of flowers, weird dinosaur-looking ducks and fantastic stone pillars hidden behind brush and dark shadows. I will return tomorrow, but instead I might take a different route. I heard of a better beach in the Presidio which sits under the Golden Gate Bridge perhaps I will go see that one and hopefully not get killed by flying sand particles or kites.

Photos just added. If you happen to appear here and are embarrassed by your absurd behavior, I am taking complaints in the comments section below. Go lookie.

I apologize for my serious lack of attention paid to the ole bloggy blog here, I have been having far too much fun at the computer and away from the computer to write anything. Weekdays are dedicated to work, evenings to laundry, biking or bus rides and on the weekends I pack in as much insanity and drama as I can physically and mentally handle. I spent this weekend in Point Reyes again – I think I have talked about this place before – small town, lotsa new friends and way to many parties. There were two big BBQ sha-bangs and a parade, plus five or six visits to the local bar, remember, THE bar. You know you are going overboard when you are at THE bar before noon. And everyone from the night before is there as well (still wearing the bright blue chaps and cowboy hats, don't forget the plastic guns and beer breath). And you only leave to eat dinner, or go to another party, but then as soon as the party slows down, you go back to the bar. And you leave when it closes. And you don't go back home until the next morning, where you actually don't go home, but go straight to work where you most likely stink of liquor and feel like vomiting for 8 of the 9 hours there. AAhhhh, good times, good times.