resolution

i usually find new years resolutions kind of ridiculous, but I have 2 serious commitments I'm going to make this year (& by serious, I mean that I'm going to take them seriously - they are far from actually serious): 

1- blog more! write more! read more! 

2- take more photos (& take better photos). I'm considering Project 52 this year...

Happy New Year! Bonne Année! 

xx

ridiculous ludicrous preposterous absurd silly outlandish

i could go on.

when it comes to photographs, i am completely & utterly absurd. i love photography. i love taking photographs. & as much as i love photos of places & things, they lack that third piece we often use in describing nouns: people. i think people are the most difficult to capture & i have such respect for anyone who can take a good picture of someone. i'm really interested in portrait & wedding & fashion photography mostly because they involve people. & isn't that the most intriguing subject.

until i actually find the time & money to take another photography class, i spend my time experimenting with photos of myself. this is where the ridiculous aspect comes in. half of my iphoto is made up of photos of myself. & that's a lot considering i upload about 1000 pictures a month from my cameras. narcissism: i have an entire set dedicated to it on my flickr (& yes I am shamelessly linking it...).

i came across this photo because i hopelessly behind on my photo updates; Blog, facebook & flickr wise.  Now that i'm all done school & exams, i have time to update, but with how far behind i am this task is suddenly incredibly daunting. i realize this is ridiculous. it's not like editing photos is even real work. & it's not as if i don't enjoy it. i'm just slightly peeved at myself for getting so far behind. & my computer is slightly peeved that i accidentally screwed up my iphoto...(my laptop is over 3 years old & slightly temperamental when it comes to iphoto. oh how i wish I had iLife 08.) 

anyways, seeing as editing helps put of working on my cv, i really can't complain. back to gilmore girls, peppermint tea & photo edits, it is...

hello vanity...

magic

It snowed! I'm not talking the little bit of frost you sometimes get after a particularly cool fall evening. I'm not even talking that first skiff of snow we always get in early October. I'm talking real, full blown, gorgeous snow. The kind that makes it kind of hard to walk properly. You end up sliding around everywhere & doing a sort of waddle to keep from falling on your tailbone. The kind that is so white that in the streetlights make it look like a sprinkle truck unloaded its contents all over the street. The kind that comes with big fat snowflakes you can catch on your tongue. The kind that covers the world in a white blanket & makes you want to stay inside & sip hot cocoa by the fire, watching the snowflakes dance outside. There's nothing like the first magical snowfall to remind you why everyone wishes for a white Christmas.

One more month

in one month I get to see this again:

xoxo

I used to be _____ but I'm not anymore

Two people with whom I've reconnected in the past few days have commented that they always thought they'd read something of mine one day. It's kind of ... I suppose disconcerting to get this sort of feedback on the direction people thought your life would take. And, frankly, so did I.

I remember how in grade 12, my English teacher burst out laughing when I told him what undergrad program I'd selected. He thought it was a waste and that I belonged in English.

Post high school, writing as a hobby just got shoved aside and shelved like all my other hobbies ... and I just never picked them back up again. But I still think about writing all the time. In fact, I think in narration ... my inner dialogue is third person, and constantly being edited and revised. I'll mentally rehearse a dozen ways of describing scenes. I think in terms of characters and plot and mood and setting. There are so many unwritten novels in my head. But any sort of creative writing that I do now - a rarity, really - feels so awkward and stilted.

I would like to be read.

It's hard enough to be published if you're really talented. And, as much as I would like to be, I'm afraid I'm not.

dèjà l'hiver

Elle s'étonne, le temps passe si vite, déjà Noël, déjà l'hiver, déjà demain et rien ne bouge, voilà le problème, en effet, notre vie est immobile et la terre continue de tourner. -Delphine de Vigan


I can feel it in the air: winter. Here's to late nights in a courtyard with friends from all over the word. Wine, melon, crayfish & vodka. To random nights, with amazing people. To staying out until all hours without a coat. To sunburns & freckles. 


To summer. 

Love

 My cousin got married last weekend in Toronto &, fortunately, I was able to make it out. It had been a long time since I'd last seen that side of the family so not only was that lovely, but the wedding was as well. Here is a preview of a few of my very favourite photos from the night so far. The rest will go up on my flickr, but here's the first glimpse!

Bubbles instead of confetti

Bubbles

Bride & Groom

First Dance

Alanna is grumpy and craving junk food. It's taking all my will power not to head over to belle pro for a poutine...

Quelle chance!

I've wanted to run 10 km for a long time now. It has probably been a goal of mine for years, in fact. I'd been working pretty hard on this goal, but I'd only ever made it to 7 km. Visitors & school & work (&&&) had been getting in the way, however, & my runs were becoming shorter & shorter. This week, I finally felt like I was back on track. I'd found my stride again & had a few confident runs. It was time to step up, however daunting that 10 seemed. & today was the day. Today, I conquered my fear of the 10 km run. Don't be fooled by the title of this entry however, it was not out of luck that I finished. No, that took a great deal of effort. As luck would have it, my 10km run coincided with being shit on by some bird (I hate birds!!) around the 7 km mark. Another first!

Another first!

Naturally, I was fairly appalled by this. How long had a been running with bird shit on my arm & lulu jacket? Did anyone else notice said bird shit? Do I stop & clean it off? The answer to that one is yes. I did stop & clean it off (as best I could -using some lovely fall leaves) & continued my run.  

When I got home, the bird fiasco slightly overshadowed my triumph (temporarily - I'm still elated!). I told my mom about both the run & the bird shit. Her response: Lucky you! That's good luck. Go buy a lottery ticket. 

& then she pestered me a few more times until I decided that I would. My final first of the day: lotto 649 purchase. Hopefully this is a well spent two dollars! 

eau

Vacation stop in Telegraph harbour

I've more or less been in or around water my whole life. Growing up in BC, my parents had a 26 foot cabin cruiser that we spent most vacations on, cruising from island to island. I guess that's where both my love & respect for the water started. It seems almost natural that from there I got into competitive swimming. I swam for years. & I don't regret a minute of those countless hours I spent swimming back & forth. It seems only natural that from there I went on to swim varsity, which eventually lead to coaching & now teaching swimming lessons as well. It seems I just can't stay away from the water. I'll be the first to admit that most water related activities come much easier to me than those one land - I aced my scuba diving tests despite sleeping through long periods of the class for example. & stick me on a wakeboard & I'll impress you far more than I ever could with it's snowier counterpart. I'm awkward on land, to say the least & anyone who knows me well will undoubtedly agree. I can point out at least 2 bruises from a land related activity on my person right this second, in fact.

Lake Okanagan

Skuba diving in Thailand

So it comes as a bit of a surprise that I've taken up running. I've always been a pretty active person & I do venture away from water sports from time to time to take in a hike or a bike or to eat my way through a city. & I didn't used to be a terrible runner. In fact, I used to be a really strong runner. I'm going to have to blame 10+ years of swimming on my more recent failed running attempts. So when I recently decided I was tired of hitting the pool or the gym every time I wanted to work out, I turned back to running. Don't get me wrong, I do love a good swim but everything about it is time consuming & time isn't something I often have a lot of during the school year. So running was calling my name.

Shuswap Lake

In the past I've never run much more than the occasional 1 or 2km to get warmed up for whatever I was doing next. & I struggled through those short distances. But this spring, I decided to give it an honest shot & started running a few times a week. It was fairly slow & painful & I rarely got in much more than 3km, but it was happening. Then the boyfriend came to visit. Unfortunately for me, the boy is a natural runner. Unfortunately for my poor body, I am an extremely competitive person. Every time we ran this spring, he hopped & jogged along - barely breaking a sweat. Despite the fact that I was running at least twice a week & he rarely ran, I just couldn't keep up. & honestly, I probably still can't. But I have a goal now & between the drive to keep up with him & the sheer boredom of living on my own this summer, I've made a pretty huge improvement. I went from barely being able to make it over 3km (& moving at a snails pace) to running over 5km for the first time last week. & then over 6km a few days later. & today, one of those sticky, disgusting Montréal summer days, I did a whole 7km. & despite the fact that it was 40c & I decided to run uphill for half a km out of the blue at around 3km, I actually made it. So I have to say I'm pretty proud of myself.

Wakeboarding this summer

Maybe by next summer, my tan won't be decorated with black & blue bruises...or at least perhaps not as often....

We talked about feelings :)

I don't get it when guys freak out, I really don't. For the longest time (measured in years), D wasn't ready for me to meet all his "people". And then all of the sudden, in the past month or so, I've finally been able to put faces to names, and he didn't act like it was a big deal. And then when I suggest we have dinner with a friend of mine? He gets all slippery, like, "Oh, you just have fun. Don't worry about me." What the eff? Does he not want to meet my people? Is he just nervous? Does he think that I don't really mean it, or that I just feel obligated to reciprocate? He's so important to me, and I'm dying for everyone to finally get to know him. Why won't he just go with it - why does he have to make it into a thing? Argh.

Opulence

noun
1 the opulence of the room luxuriousness, sumptuousness, lavishness,richness, luxury, luxuriance, splendor, magnificence, grandeur,splendidness; informal plushness, classiness, ritziness, poshness,swankiness. antonym simplicity, restraint.2 a display of opulence wealth, affluence, wealthiness, richness, riches,prosperity, money. antonym poverty.
Last week, I went on a trek of sorts up to the Westmount Lookout. If I only had one word to describe Summit Circle & its surrounding streets, it would be opulence. Once I get to editing the photos I took, I will post them & talk a bit more about my walk, but until then here's a teaser. 
Just North of Westmount Park I ran into another park (the name of which I'm drawing a blank). There were the most gorgeous flowers & I got a few good shots. Here are a few of my favourites. Not sure I even did them justice. 

Photo du jour

I got my hair cut today & I thought I'd share. I took some somewhat decent self portraits with my DSLR yesterday afterwards. My photography teacher always talked about making sure eyes don't look dead - catch light he called it. It took a few attempts, but my massive sliding door proved pretty useful for it.

She blow dried my hair out in loose waves & I so wish I had the skills to ever do it like this myself. I don't even wanna wash my hair because I know that I'll never be able to do it!

Alanna is full of plans & expectations.

The Greatest Outdoor Show on Earth

One of my favourite things about summer in Calgary is the Stampede. I didn’t grow up in Calgary so I never found it lame or dorky. It was all new to me when we moved in 1995. Like snow & Chinooks, I fell in love with it.

Part of the draw of the Stampede is how completely ridiculous it is. For 10 days of the year, everyone pretends to be a cowboy. People don boots, jeans & cowboy hats instead of their usual suits to go to the office. There is a higher concentration of plaid than at any other time. & most offices find an excuse to throw a big party & spend the day drinking & socializing instead of actually working.

Arguably, one of the best things during Stampede though is the free pancake breakfasts that pop up in parking lots all over the city. There is one every morning in some community. People volunteer to make pancakes or hand out juice or plates or paint faces or lead ponies around. I’ve worked a few myself & the amount of people that show up is astounding. I guess it shouldn’t really be, seeing as it’s free. There’s usually a band & activities for kids & line dancing.

This year, I told Mom to find us one to go to the Saturday I was back. We headed out to Coventry Hills in our cowboy boots & Stampede gear & joined the masses in line for our free pancakes. Luckily it was a gorgeous day (unlike most of the rest of the summer in Alberta this year) so we enjoyed our pancakes on the curb in the parking lot.

Pancake breakfast is the very best way to start a long day of Stampeding, if you ask me.

deltiology

I don't exactly study them, but I suppose you could say I do collect them. I love Postcards & I have tons from all over the world - some that I've collected from my own travels & some that others have sent me. The back of my door of my room in Calgary is covered with them & I had begun a small collection in my room in my old apartment in Mtl.

This new place, however doesn't really have a bedroom door. & tacking them to my back door is entirely too tacky for my liking so I've come up with a better solution - the ugly glass topped table I have from the old place. It's perfect, especially seeing as I have no table cloth & the paint is peeling and chipping. On top of this, my awesome boyfriend sent me a postcard from pretty much every place he visited, so I have plenty of postcards to cover the whole thing. Ingenious! No?

Do you ever just not know how to feel??

Alanna is getting ready to hit the stampede! Yahoooooo!

settling

Moving. Oh moving. What an…ordeal? Perhaps that’s not the right word, especially seeing as it went particularly smoothly thanks to a few amazing people. Nonetheless, I’ve been technically moved in to my place for two weeks as of today & it’s only finally coming together now. I don’t have very much stuff, certainly not enough to fill a one bedroom apartment, but my studio is packed to the rafters it seems. & I still have a couple of things at my old place (although one is the chair to my desk & the other is a tiny bookshelf).

I’ve been playing with different set up for my apartment. I’m sure it will continue to change over the next few months until I get it all figured out. The hardest part seems to be my bed & chair. 

The day after moving in. Not much has changed in this corner of the room aside from it being more organized.

Configuration One.

The way I’d originally had it set up is slightly awkward for my bedside table (which doesn’t quite fit on the wall beside my bed & sticks out a bit) and my dresser (which sits awkwardly at the foot of my bed.) Basically the set up is awkward all around. Especially since my bed is then up against the wall so if anyone stays with me, they have to climb over me to go to bed – I won’t be forfeiting MY side of the bed…. Sorry.

Configuration Two.

Deux

The latest confuguration looks a lot nicer, but makes for an awkward set up for my coffee table (Yes, I know it’s awkward that my coffee table is just sitting there on it’s own to begin with…I’m not sure what to really do with it.) & in some ways makes things feel smaller.

Basically, I’m almost totally unpacked & moved, but I’m still figuring out the logistics of this apartment of mine.

Prettier, more organized view of my desk/table & balcony

My tiny little kitchen.

Now if only I had an extra foot all around, all of my apartment problems would be solved. I guess I can’t complain too much however, I do have A/C & in 42c, not a whole lot else matters… 

move along

I’m officially moved. Well, according to my old lease & my new lease anyways. & for the most part I am actually officially moved into my new place as well. I left a few things at the old place – 2 mirrors, my desk chair, photo collages, and the modem & cable box – but aside from that everything else is here.

Up until it actually fell together, I was fairly certain that I was going to end up crying on the sidewalk halfway between apartments, France 2005 style. (When, after over 24 hours of traveling, 2 hours of wandering around Rennes like a lost child, with no idea where my residence was & unable to find a single person who would help me out, I sat down on my giant suitcase & bawled. Don’t fret for my 21-year-old self, however. I did manage to pull myself together enough to check into a hotel for the night & get enough sleep to easily find my residence the following morning.) I had 2 sbux coworkers & a friend from school (with her station wagon) help me with the move. & thank god for that station wagon. We managed to fit almost everything in it & only had to carry a few minor things the 4 blocks. I know 4 blocks doesn’t seem like much, but talk to me after you’ve carried a metal legged table that distance. It’s far enough.

The following evening, Kat helped me with the last few things & I’ve been (very) slowly settling in since. Normally, I would have my entire place figured out almost a week into living in it, but there are a few last minute touch ups that need to be finished so with the knowledge that worked will be coming in a out tomorrow, I can’t be bothered to set things up for real & get everything cleaned to my satisfaction only to have them trek through in their work boots. We’re in the middle of a disgusting humidity & high heat warning, so keep your fingers crossed for me that my AC gets fixed tomorrow as promised.

Until all this gets sorted, you’ll just have to keep on waiting to see my new digs. I know, heartbreaking.

sappy sappy sappy

I'm not usually one to share this with the whole world, but it's been well over a month & I still have well over a month to go. he left for europe this week & my world is a whole lot lonelier. i made him this, like the big, sappy, romantic sucker that I am sometimes....

I'm not very good at not being jealous.



I need to work on this.

ninety-nine bottles of beer on the wall...

& so it begins... The season of (outdoor) festivals in Montréal, that is. Every person I've mentioned the fact that I'm spending my first summer in Montréal to has had more or less the same reaction: You're going to love Montréal in the summer!! Needless to say, I'm pretty excited for all this city has to offer this summer & hope to experience as much of it as humanly possible. That said, I kick-started things with the annual Mondiale de la bière. Given my love of beer & train stations, I'm was pretty impressed with this festival (although the emphasis is much more on the beer than on the fact that it was held in gorgeous Windsor Station). 
The festival ran June 2 to June 6 & I had the opportunity to attend twice. First with the roomie for a couple after-dinner beers Thursday evening & then with a co-worker on Saturday Night. Thursday, we sauntered in around 8:30, waited in line for our beer tickets & glass mugs & tasted a few delicious brews. 

Saturday wasn't quite the same story. We headed down around 5:30 once Deanna had gotten off work to find a line that snaked around the side of the building. Apparently we weren't the only ones who thought a beer festival was a great way to spend our Saturday evening. Seeing as neither of us had any other plans & we'd been excited about it all day, we decided to try the line....at least for a little while. We ended up waiting a little over an hour, sticking it out in a torrential downpour that soaked our shoes straight through. At least we had umbrellas.    

Finally we got in & waited in another line to buy tickets & a mug for Deanna. Once we had all the necessities it was beer tasting time. We each had about 12 tickets ($1 each) & beers were usually 2-3 tickets, with a few slightly pricier ones. In the end we probably had 5 beers each. I tried to stick to micro breweries & beer that I can't get on a regular basis. Some of my favourites were Muskoka Cream Ale (which Deanna was very excited to find, being from ON & familiar with this smooth cottage beer) & Ma Première Blonde (a play on words: Blonde can mean both girlfriend & beer). The evening wouldn't have been complete without a large poutine, which we enjoyed with our cottage beer, picnic-style in the courtyard.

We parted ways & wandered home a few hours later, leaving me even more excited about the upcoming summer of festivals. 

my shoes however, might not be quite as ready...

my poor shoes are even more worse for wear....water now leaks in everywhere

Summer Lovin

Summer has arrived to Montreal, or so it seems at least. Last week the city felt like a sauna. It was the hottest weather I've ever felt in Canada & it's only May. I'm told it will only get hotter & more humid so now I'm not entirely sure what I've signed myself up for.  I will, thankfully, be taking a two and a half week break to head back to the dry heat of the homeland. Yes, I am going home for some Stampeding, among other things. A second thing I should be thankful for this summer is the AC in my new apartment. Yes, folks, I found myself a new apartment so you needn't fret about me living on the street on setting up a permanent cot in the lifeguard office. And yes, it has AC - an almost foreign concept to me. No one has air conditioning in AB, at least no one I know. So, I'd kind of laughed it off as an unnecessary perk when I signed the lease. That is until last week when I thought I was going to melt. Our current apartment was a bit of a sweatbox. & not just because it doesn't have AC. Despite the rest of its lovely features, it lacks 2 sets of screens. I am lucky enough to be the proud owner of one of the screen-less windows. The other is in the living room. Sorry, apartment, I still love you, but this is one of your serious downfalls. I know this seems slightly absurd, but I'm fairly certain our landlord has just forgotten about these two missing screens. In fact, I distinctly recall him saying he'd put them in come spring. but now that we've told him we're leaving, I feel awkward bringing up the oversight. It's silly, I know, but I really didn't think we'd hit 38 degrees before Canada day, never mind in May! But enough about my current apartment. Let's talk about my new one, as I'm sure you're all dying to hear about it.

It's 3 or 4 blocks closer to both workplaces & school. So now, I can cut my 20 minute routine down to 15 minutes for Starbucks in the morning OR I can make myself presentable with makeup perhaps from time to time (ok, let's not kid ourselves here, we all know I'll never choose makeup over sleep at 5:45am). It's above a Tim Hortons (which at first seems unappealing, but brekkie on my way to the Y? yes, I'll have time now). The building isn't anything special from the outside, but the interior is newly renovated & has some pretty high tech security. The landlord seems to be a doll, as well. My apartment itself, is on the 4th floor. It's a 2 1/2 (in the rest of Canada we'd call it a bachelor) & everything it is is brand new. It's been totally renovated - hardwood floors, new appliances, new tile bathroom. & it has a patio! All in all, it's a pretty sweet place, exactly where I wanted. Crisis averted.

& it only took me a month and a half to find it.

Lyssa is up early baking cheese buns and strawberry-rhubarb pie :)

Alanna officially has a place to live come July 1! & it's a better than decent place at that. Such a relief after my (overly) melodramatic meltdown on Tuesday night.

A Picture Tells A Thousand Words

At least that's what they say, & sometimes my photos seem to do the talking a little bit better than my words. I guess I'll have to work on that. Nevertheless, here are the photos I promised from the night the Habs won & I took my flashy camera for a walk down to Crescent. Unless you're living under a rock, I'm sure you're aware that the Habs won the semi-final series against the Penguins last week as well & Montréal was once again a crazy (awesome) place to be. The roomie, the boyfriend & I joined the revellers briefly, but managed to avoid tear gas & the looting. There was however a car set on fire (& burnt to a crisp) near our street. Exciting?

First Round: 

               The street wasn't closed off during the first round. Intersection of Guy & St Catharine's.  

Car surfing is always safe

Round 2:

st catharine's in front of the faubourg. 

making our way through the crowd as we approach crescent

sea of people at crescent

& to cap off the evening: slightly difficult to see burnt car.

close encounters

The only thing more awkward than running into an ex is running into an ex's mother ... and she's naked.

Alanna had to have her iPod touch restored to the factory settings. This wouldn't matter for most people, but I took a bunch of music from friends' computers in Calgary....& I live in Mtl now....downloading spree?

baby talk

So I went back to my old job for the summer, doing rehab-therapy with kiddos, and in addition to assuming my old clientele I've also been assigned a ... gasp ... infant. Well, he's 18 months. Legally this qualifies him as an infant, although I don't know how he'd be characterized if I took like a census or something. Anyway. For 2 hours every afternoon I feel so awkward and, frankly, a little terrified. And really, he's the most complacent, happy thing that ever was. But I'm with him in this closet of a nursery - thank goodness the mother doesn't hover - and the whole time I'm hyper self-conscious. Should I be always chattering? What's the appropriate work-to-play ratio? And how do you play with a baby, really, anyway? Getting the work part done isn't too much trouble, although it feels mean and a little wrong sometimes to wheedle his fist out of a death grip or to make him roll onto his front when every time his one little arm gets pinned under his body and he mashes his face into the carpet.

He drools like Beethoven, too. (Dog, not composer .... Well, maybe composer, you never know.)

Everyone thinks it's hilarious that I'm afraid of babies. It's not irrational. It's not like I think they'll attack me or something, pull out special infant krav maga. I'm just unfamiliar with them. They're foreign to me, like a wallaby or a babushka'd grandmother fresh from the old country. If anyone gave me either of these to manage for an afternoon I'd feel equally anxious and unfit. It's not my fault I've never been baby-proofed.

If one ever comes out of me I won't be afraid of it, right? (... Or will I be more afraid on account of its violence? Hm.)

Alanna is crossing her fingers these girls pick her to live with them! Awesome plateau apartment!! Swooooon.

comeback kids

I have one lingering "Calgary" regret.  I missed out on the first year that Calgarians took to the streets to celebrate playoff victory on the infamous Red Mile. I am sad to admit that though I longed to head down to 17th Ave and get trampled by the masses after a win, I never did quite make it. There was always some other commitment that kept me away. And it was never the same after that first year - or so I'm told.

So living a block away from what could be known as Montréal's version of the Red Mile, I could hear the shouting & singing & honking of cars after tonight's unlikely comeback.  I thought back to my missed experience in Calgary. I thought about picking up my phone & texting the people I knew would be out celebrating. I thought about the pain of waking up at 5:30am, hung over. But I could still hear the not-so-distant parade of partygoers. I compromised on a short walk down St Catherine's street and wow, was I ever floored. I've never seen anything like this. If I hadn't already opened this morning, I would perhaps be capable of providing a better description. However, I did & my brain can't, so picture this (or hold out for the photos I snapped while attempting to hide my slightly flashy camera): headlights & brake lights as far as you can see, helicopters circling overhead, habs flags everywhere, gridlock, habs jerseys, people running, dancing, high fiving their way down the street, surfing on moving vehicles, chanting, singing, honking, tires squealing, ole ole ole ole, more honking, more people running, dancing around cars, hanging out of cars, standing on top of cars... I got as far as Crescent Street before I came upon the riot police and turned around. I've had enough encounters with them to know it's best to just leave.

And this is only round 1....

allons donc

Alright, the backstory. So. It was an unseasonably warm March day. There we were, tarrying in a little casse-croute in the Plateau, belly up to sliders, poutine and Quebecois half-pints. ... And we had a great-minds-think-alike moment. Perhaps a blog?

Our interests, though eclectic, run parallel. Travel, photography, indie music, la langue francaise, journalling, keeping-in-touch ... we thought, Hell. Do we have to zero in on just one theme? Why not a blog that reflects rather than focuses our randomness? We’ll defend - no, vaunt - our caprice.

We are both Cowtown transplants negotiating our new eastern addresses (and identities?), and staying connected in millennial fashion: texts, tweets and status updates, Youtube and Failblog links shared via Skype, postcards, emails (or, as per Alanna’s penchant, e-novellas), personal blogs and Flickr uploads. We are, quite literally, épistolières, sharing ourselves and our stories as a serial collection of artifacts. And this collection, for better or worse, will be less like a curated museum exhibit and much more akin to a hoarder’s junk drawer. Ergo, farrago. (And, as a special bonus, we can rhyme!)