New Year’s Resolution(s)

Wow, it’s been awhile since I’ve been here…

My new year’s resolution has been to write music. This has been somewhat of a challenge, since I’ve never before in my life written anything other than essays and lab reports (and the occasional blog), but  it’s going decently well. I’ve found that the less happy I am, the better my writing gets (so I’m well on my way to becoming Adele Swift), so it’s been a weird year so far.

Second new year’s resolution, that I just made like 5 minutes ago, is to start blogging again. Hooray! (screams nobody)

I’m in the middle of training right now (I work for so as part of training I have purchased my very own website! There’s no hosting just yet, so it’s just a blank page of redirections ( but it’ll be a thing soon. Promise.

I guess that’s my third new year’s resolution.

Living in the sunlight, loving in the moonlight

…having a wonderful time.

(Thought I’d ruin all your good-weather moods with a little earworm-maker known as Tiny Tim. Just try getting it out of your head.)

Today I had the most wonderful 19C picnic. Early spring (still technically winter), grass sprouting, sun warming the earth (and waking up the bees… oh, the bees), and two out of three of my siblings in the park near my house with a manwich apiece. Well, my brother’s was the true Dagwood, but he’s also 17, tall, and skinny, so that’s to be expected.

Anyway, I brought my trusty guitar Monty along with us and set up an impromptu jam with my brother. Baby sister said we should get a busking licence, because “well, you’re not doing anything, and he’s not doing anything… except lie around the house and be lazy. He should get off his butt and do music.” Which was her way of telling her plenty-older siblings to get a job. I WILL WHEN YOU DO

So there you have it. Summer employment opportunity in an entrepreneurial musical venture as coerced by an almost-ten-year-old. Sounds almost fancy when you put it that way.


Figured out how to make a song into a video! I’M KING OF THE WORLD


Karaoke all the time

Especially on Tuesday nights.

Last night I went to an amazing bar in Church/Wellesley village and indulged in one of my more wholesome (yet totally embarrassing) addictions: karaoke. Literally any time a friend has texted or called and suggested karaoke, my immediate answer is yes. I will karaoke on a Tuesday till 2 in the morning (apparently).

I went to the bar Crews and Tangos last night for karaoke with DJ Elyse (who has a killer voice, btw) and it was madness. The house was reasonably full for a weeknight, and more and more people showed up as we gained momentum. The crowd was amazing – someone from my party sang a duet with a girl he’d never met before just because they each loved the other’s performance so much. The enthusiasm was incredible and everyone was just so positive, it was a fabulous atmosphere for both nervous beginners and obnoxious old-timers like me.

My friend Robyn is the one who is mostly responsible for feeding my insane karaoke addiction. Seriously, we go out mostly on weeknights because that’s where the karaoke is. Robyn this is all your fault. (Check out her tumblr if you like .gifs, Dr. Who, and Dr. Who .gifs.)

I did a music

Here it is!

And on my channel you can see the rest of my musics.

I like musicking!

Tim has been humming “YYZ” for, like, an hour.

Quotes from Tim this evening:

My mouth is like a party. Where everyone’s knitting. It feels like a 60s rug.

Let’s be mature about things. Penis.

UUUUUUUUSER. That’s a big deal in Tron, asshole.


I’m not sure if I know about bird sex.

Well, my pants are halfway down my ass right now…

I dreamed of smoking up with dad. Kind of awesome, but not really. It’s like, if I’m gonna smoke up, dad’s not gonna be my first choice.

What?! That’s worse than people I know who can’t beatbox and they say “boots in cats”!

Let’s count ass cheeks… One.

What the hell was that?? Oh… Charlotte’s money.

That’s so great, my ass cheeks just applauded.

I’m going to shut up now. I’m going to start throwing Santa at you. Where’s your diet coke?

I tried to say you’re welcome, but I couldn’t burp long enough.

I’ll sing to you about creepy shit.

And a bonus quote from Alex:

Is that a Diet Coke I see?
If it is I’m gonna be


Okay, so I promised to write about my last food class, and how my presentation was based on Dio de los Muertos. But may I interrupt that announcement for another announcement? Good, ’cause I’m gonna.


Okay, awesome. Fun times, I can eat dairy again, all is well. (I don’t eat dairy before a performance. It drives me nuts but at least gummy throat is one less thing to worry about come showtime.)

So for my final Cook the Books class at U of T, my group presented on Barbara Kingsolver’s non-fiction work, Animal, Vegetable, Miracle about her and her family’s year of eating only food they either grew themselves or traded for food that their neighbours grew (like a chicken for a lamb, or eighty pounds of tomatoes for the equivalent in salad greens, that sort of thing). We thought, great, give us the presentation on local food in December. But, as it turns out, our local farmer’s market The Brickworks (shuttle running from Broadview Station on the TTC) was teeming with local produce.

We managed to put together a Dio de los Muertos feast for 40 which included traditional Pan del Muertes, not-so-traditional sweet potato quesadillas, handmade tortilla chips and homemade salsa (our professor’s contribution), and not-even-a-little-traditional baked apples. Paper skulls adorned the room, along with an altar that we prepared with a centrepiece reflecting the four elements (because it was too hard to represent the 150+) and a motherflippin’ pinata. WE HAD A PINATA. I think that counts as an instant A.

The pinata was full of seeds (contributed by our Chef) and we had soil in which to plant them so our classmates could take them home and continue the local-food journey, even living in the city. Someone quipped that “oh no, the SOIL isn’t organic!” But of course, our group thought of that already, and yes, the soil WAS organic. So there.

The tea we served with dessert was an artisan tea, foraged by a native Canadian woman in the woods of Northern Ontario. It was, according to Hart House’s dishwasher, “like drinking a forest, yes?” Yes.

All in all, a good time was had by all. And I will admit, though somewhat begrudgingly, that not all locavores are snotty arrogant holier-than-thou hipsters. The farmer’s market was pretty cool.



Christmas busy making-things-season has come upon us. I apologise for the lack of update… or maybe you’re relieved, I dunno. Either way, I didn’t have time to write today because I was busy knitting a sock monkey.

I apologise.

In the meantime, I’ve designed my karaoke set list so I never have to leaf through one of those massive books again:

(Duet or more)
Spice Girls – Stop (great success!!)
Scissor Sisters – Everybody wants the Same Thing
B-52s – Love Shack
Meatloaf – Paradise by the Dashboard Lights

Barenaked Ladies – One Week (terribly impressive if you can hack it)
Joan Jett – I Love Rock n’ Roll
Meredith Brooks – Bitch
OK Go – Get Over It
Scissor Sisters – Kiss You Off
4 Non-Blondes – What’s Up

So next time you’re at a bar, or an awkward company function, or one of those random Asian karaoke rooms… you’re welcome.

Welcome, Christmas, bring good cheer

It’s that time of year again. The time when the church choirs dust off the carolling books, the department stores haul out the holly, and as soon as that pesky Hallowe’en’s out of the way (which we’ve been preparing for since August), the countdown for Shopping Days Left Till Christmas begins. (Only 65!)

Today I started rehearsals with the Kingsway United Church for their annual Christmas Pageant (which I’m pretty sure takes place on December 8th or something). This is my second year as choir director and already I’m known for my embarrassing choral warmups, eccentric conducting, and tendency to lose my voice by the end of rehearsal. (Thankfully, I’m only in charge for three weeks, and then the music director steps in to lose her voice instead.)

What a joyous season. Kids plan their costumes and get hyped on stolen candy from their parents’ shell-out stash while we celebrate the birth of Baby Jesus and try to be enthusiastic about shepherds for the next two months. Ring a bell, ring it merry up and down.

(As a side note, I’ve decided on my costume for this year. You know how most girls just add “slutty” to whatever they’re wearing? Slutty rabbit, slutty girl guide, slutty SS Youth, etc.? I’m just going to be a slut. That’s right – I’m going as Hester Prynne. The sluttiest Puritan of them all.)

(It’s kind of weird that I’m allowed to be a role model for children.)

Well, I’m off to the land of nod. Need to recuperate from all that exuberant conducting. It is a workout. Merry Hallow’s Eve to all, and to all a good night.

I’ve got a crush on Andy Ross

Yeah, I did this. No, I’m not ashamed. Well, a little. But pretty proud of how I cranked this baby out in like half an hour.

And now, the backstory:

Last June, I won tickets to see my favourite band, OK Go, perform at the Kennedy Centre Center in Washington, D.C., initially thinking the Kennedy Centre Center was in New York. (For the geographically challenged, NY is a LOT closer to TO than DC.) Thankfully, my grandmother used to be a flight attendant and so she got me free plane tickets to get there (with the stipulation that the other free ticket be granted to her. So yeah, I’ve been to a rock concert with my granny, what of it? She used to be a Playboy bunny. True story). Anyway.

I’ve loved OK Go’s music for about 5 years after having seen them by chance on a repeat of MadTV where they performed their famous dance to the single “A Million Ways.” So obvs the chance to see them live was too incredible to pass up… and it far exceeded my expectations. Yowza. Laser guitars, multi-instrumentalists, handbells… My grandmother later told the band that she was “hesitant at first but that bell thingy made me a fan!” to which they awkwardly went “heyy… that’s great…” and I died of embarassment. I was also only able to utter that I had flown in from Toronto that afternoon just to see them, to which they responded in much the same manner, and I died again. “They think I’m a moron,” I said to myself. “My favourite band, filled to the brim with musical and artistic genius, probably thought I was some teeny-bopper fangirl who couldn’t get a hold of her tiny brain cells to say something interesting or intelligent. Now what do I do?”

The answer came to me while babysitting my parents’ dogs: Write a love song.

For most of my love affair with OK Go, I, like thousands of others, have been infatuated with the lead singer, Damian. (He is fairly swoon-worthy, to be fair. There’s a reason girls go for guys in bands.) During the concert, however, before my brain decided to deflate, I noticed the second guitarist-slash-keyboardist-slash-chime-player-slash-hi-hat-operator-slash-whatever-the-hell-instruments-they-decided-to-pick-up-that-day. He was, to say the least, quite impressive. A maestro of multiple instruments. Capable of playing anything they threw at him with astonishing ease. My two decades of music training kicked in and I was ga-ga. He signed my ticket. I probably drooled on him. He played it off like it was all cool though. Probably happens all the time.

So when it came time to write my love song, Andy had managed to usurp Damian’s place in the crush-on-a-cute-guy center centre in my brain. Plus his name just fit itself so nicely to music.

Days went by and the video racked up a couple of views. Then it got tumbl’d by Andy’s official Tumblr fan site ( and the views went up. Then for some reason it got incredibly famous in Estonia (just check the web stats… Estonia is that tiny eastern European country that is the same colour as Canada on the map). Then Andy found it! He commented (not on the video link) that he was “Very flattered” and that the song had a “good hook, too!”

I died again.


The palpitations made it seem that way, anyway.

That was back in June. Damian’s managed to creep his way back into my brain’s cute-guy-crush centre but he’s about on par with Andy now. Maybe it’s time to write a ballad…