Friday, November 28, 2008

Keele and Museum.

I love Keele Station.

The subway platform is beautiful because it is austere. It's got a broad, white, gently arched ceiling that covers the Eastbound platform, two directions of tracks, and the Westbound platform.

Unlike so many other TTC stations, one must climb to reach the subway trains. Because there is fresh air at the end of the bright canal of Keele, there is hope on the outside. It reminds me of proper train stations in London, only without ornate Victorian curlicues and a generous smattering of clocks and yobbos.

Most of the TTC subway stations are, as one would expect, underground, with sickly-coloured grimy tiles and whiffs of dirt and exhaust.

One underground station that distracts the nose by distracting the eye is Museum, with a newly-unveiled interior in keeping with the collection that rests aboveground and which gives the stop its name, the Royal Ontario Museum. The usually utilitarian columns are, here, at Museum stop, larger-than-lifesize replicas of totems of the West Coast Canadian aboriginals, Egyptian homages to gods and monarchs, and Aztec pillars featuring canlendrical references.

Its walls are orangey. Not a gross orange to rival St. Patrick's hospital-ward-green but a subtle orange and buff colour which boldly holds, in standard TTC font (v. sans serif) the huge, three-foot-high title of the station. In the recessed name are hyrogliphics, which makes me want to go to the museum institution of learning above to learn what it says.

My guess is, "stand right, walk left."

Saturday, November 22, 2008

Gobsmacked.

Thanks to T for this.



I've watched it probably 10 times already.

And then this, which I will post in a link because I'm embarrassed by how much I like it.

5 more days of murdering chickens.

Thursday, November 20, 2008

Finger Lickin' Good.

Gack.

Ok, so I signed up with a temp agency. Last week I was like a switchboard wench at Nelvana, which I'm pretty sure is the animation studio behind the genius of the Care Bears. It was ok.

Now, I've got eight days at... um... A chicken murdering plant. It's a poultry plant, and as I walk to work in the office, I have to walk by trucks of very alive chickens drawing their last breaths. Outside the plant, the smell is straight-up narsty. It's like a small butcher that's too busy to clean up chum. I can't believe there are homes downwind. I'm barf myself to sleep every night.

The office doesn't smell at all. Amongst other things, I have to make sure the supervisors get messages from floor workers if they called in to say they wouldn't be coming to work, then there's data entry to say how long the machines were shut down each day. The records go back to August, and they're slowly being entered. I mean, since there's nothing else to do, I have to make that data entry stretch over the next week, so I'm slowly entering it.

Oh, how I dream of a job where I'm challenged and learning things (other than how to transfer calls) and feel like I'm helping, but not complicit in the murder of birds.

Wednesday, November 12, 2008

Still Kickin'.

Sorry for the radio silence.

Some fun things: I went to Ottawa last weekend to see my fam. Ottawa smells so good. I don't notice how sour and dusty Toronto is until I stand in another city and compare. It didn't hurt that there were a lot of leaves down, and I love the smell of decomposing leaves. It makes me want to prepare for the winter.

I missed commenting on my 4th Bloggiversary. It was November 1st. Of anything, this just illustrates that I've got to post more frequently, since that was almost two weeks ago!

Also, I've started a voice class. It's a class in radio and television commercial voice-overs, and television and documentary narration. I'm loving it, so far, and I'm two classes in. It's great, because we're getting experience in a real recording studio, listening to ourselves in headphones and behind a powerful microphone. Hopefully, I'll be able to put together a demo "tape" and maybe work in this field. I've gotten some great feedback from the instructors and the other students.

Some work would be nice; it's still a no-go. I signed up with a temp agency last week, but I'm nervous about what I might have to do. It sounds like a great place, actually, and I won't be screwed out of pay or have to do anything I don't want to.

Today, I'm pecking away at my screenplay. Did people know I was writing one? Yeah, I have been. For effing years. I hit a wall when it came to the final conflict, but I think today I had a breakthrough and now I'm denouementing. I just don't know how the aliens and the evengelical preachers are going to live together, you know?

Kidding.

My 30th birthday is coming up, and all I find myself wanting to do to celebrate is to go away. I just looked at flights to Rio, and they were surprisingly inexpensive. I have a friend there who can house me, probably, and I promise, I won't go to any favelas.

Well, let's face it: I won't go to Rio at all. I have no job, and my father would probably freak out and make me wear a mosquito net 24 hours a day so I wouldn't get Dengue Fever. Dad's just looking out for me, and since he works in health, he sees all the weird ailments people bring home from vacation. No wonder he liked Nunuvut so much - there's a very low incidence of malaria!

Ah, well. I'll just get Brazil out of my system the same way I have for years: I'll listen to some Astrud Gilberto and imagine myself as the Girl from Ipanema.

Tall, and pasty, and 30, and lovely, the Girl from Stratford goes walking. But not for too long, because she's got heel spurs, and she gets those weird blisters on her toes...