This means I am in my happy place. I love being alone. I love it to the extent that when I have to go on long stretches without it, I miss it like an old friend.
It also gives me time to tinker with online photo editors. Now here’s what got me photo editing:
My laptop’s a peckish little diva, and each time I try to install Adobe Photoshop, it fails CATASTROPHICALLY. (The All Caps makes me worry in a Dalek-y sort of way, pardon the Doctor Who reference that may be lost on you.) So, right at the start of this long weekend, one of my Melange colleagues suggested an online editing site, Picnik. There I went and voila! A child with cyber ADHD and a brand-new toy. (Disclaimer: I don’t mean photo-editing on a professional level- just a few fun tweaks here and there for miserably failed cellphone-cam or self-taken photos to make them look just a tad better than random blurs. )
Now, thanks to Tori Amos’s music, I’m feeling a bit Zen and much too lazy to write about the highlights of the past few days, so here are some of those pictures instead (not my best editing attempts, but probably serve the best purpose):
That’s Cattksi, reading at the last Really Really Bad Poets thing. Hers was a poem about boobs, and while there were lots of unbelievably GOOD ones that night, I thought hers particularly rocked.
Vince and Jingle’s improvisational pocket performance at Handuraw (from PAK’s “CHANCE?”). YOU HAD TO BE THERE.
You still can, of course- there’s always another one every last Thursday of the month at 7:30-ish. (Or you can time travel- your call.) But “Chance?” was one of my favourites so far. I rolled on the floor laughing (in a literal sense, even) for most of it. So glad I decided to sit this one out. There are times when being in the audience is very, very rewarding.
And here are some of the things I do at work when not actually working. Our team reprised our role as the Stryfe Academy: A School for Disturbed Young Professionals, with a short impromptu skit (that’s me in the tartan skirt)…
And the week before that- our version of The Bride of Chucky…
Once again, we had no time to put our performance together, so I scribbled a silly rhyme in between calls, put on my storytelling voice, and let them follow my cue. There’s all sorts of improv, you know. Some sorts involve murderous living dolls. Basically.
I don’t really recommend it, but you can read my Chucky rhyme here:
That said, I’m chuffed to bits to be given plenty of chances to draw on people’s faces, mess up their hair, and make them don strange costumes at work. Every half-decent living carnival’s dream.
There’s more, of course, and it involves night photo shoots with lots of mud and rusty boats, and blinking, and other fun things like that- but I can tell y’all about it in the next post.
PS. The sad songs I was talking about were “1000 Oceans” and “Hey Jupiter” by Tori Amos. I won’t tell you what kind of coffee it was. ‘Cause I’m wildly deranged like that.