Saturday, March 30, 2013
#38: Listen to new music
While trolling around on YouTube, found this band the other day. Take a listen - if you love Bon Iver (and what good hipster doesn't) you will like these guys a lot:
The Temper Trap - Miracle
Love the lyrics, love the music, love the message. Enjoy.
"The human heart is a strange vessel. Love and hatred can exist side by side."
- Scott Westerfeld, Peeps
#35: Talk about how cultured I am
I remember the first time I saw French like it was yesterday.
It was very early in the morning when I cautiously tip-toed down the hallway. The highly polished hardwood floors creaked gently as I made my way to the half opened door, where the smell of coffee lingered, tempting me toward maturity. I was nine years old.
I pressed my hand up against the ornately carved white wood of the door frame, the other hand lightly touching the brass pull. I peeked around the corner to see Joan propped up on fat, white, downy pillows. Her silk robe was pulled up around her collarbone, glasses perched on her nose.
"Well, come on up then!"
I jumped, literally, onto the multi-layered mattresses and snuggled up next to my aunt. Joan was always my favourite, even if I hadn't told her so. It was one of those things I didn't dare say out loud for fear of loosing some specialness that existed between us, so tenuous that the mere suggestion of it would cause it to lessen somehow.
"Here, read this."
The newspaper before me was written with letters I recognized, but in a way I could not understand. The next hour was filled with French language, history, geography, and most importantly, stories of her time in Paris. I fell head over heels in love.
Many years later I am still in love with France. Now, however when I pick up un journal I can understand not only what is being said, but the beauty with which it is expressed. I have heard it said that when you turn 30, you turn French. After my trip to Paris this coming spring - a trip I have been dreaming of since I realized it as a possibility almost 20 years ago - my 'French Decade' will begin.
Joan recently told my dad she is going 'a bit gaga'. The dementia that ate away at her mother is now the same disease robbing her of those once vibrant memories of strolls down the Champs Elysee and the little girl who hung onto every word. Those memories, like so many others, will live on in my heart. I am so grateful to her for sharing a part of her life that has become a thing beloved by us both.
It was very early in the morning when I cautiously tip-toed down the hallway. The highly polished hardwood floors creaked gently as I made my way to the half opened door, where the smell of coffee lingered, tempting me toward maturity. I was nine years old.
I pressed my hand up against the ornately carved white wood of the door frame, the other hand lightly touching the brass pull. I peeked around the corner to see Joan propped up on fat, white, downy pillows. Her silk robe was pulled up around her collarbone, glasses perched on her nose.
"Well, come on up then!"
I jumped, literally, onto the multi-layered mattresses and snuggled up next to my aunt. Joan was always my favourite, even if I hadn't told her so. It was one of those things I didn't dare say out loud for fear of loosing some specialness that existed between us, so tenuous that the mere suggestion of it would cause it to lessen somehow.
"Here, read this."
The newspaper before me was written with letters I recognized, but in a way I could not understand. The next hour was filled with French language, history, geography, and most importantly, stories of her time in Paris. I fell head over heels in love.
Many years later I am still in love with France. Now, however when I pick up un journal I can understand not only what is being said, but the beauty with which it is expressed. I have heard it said that when you turn 30, you turn French. After my trip to Paris this coming spring - a trip I have been dreaming of since I realized it as a possibility almost 20 years ago - my 'French Decade' will begin.
Joan recently told my dad she is going 'a bit gaga'. The dementia that ate away at her mother is now the same disease robbing her of those once vibrant memories of strolls down the Champs Elysee and the little girl who hung onto every word. Those memories, like so many others, will live on in my heart. I am so grateful to her for sharing a part of her life that has become a thing beloved by us both.
Wednesday, March 27, 2013
Tuesday, March 26, 2013
#33: Read Dostoyevsky
Read Ernest Hemingway's "The Old Man and the Sea" instead. Great read! And you'll be able to get through it in a day. Seriously, the description is amazing! I figuratively and literally could not put this down. Note to self, it's really hard to eat soup and read at the same time. My copy is now a little chicken-noodley.
“I may not be as stong as I think, but I know many tricks and I have resolution." - Ernest Hemingway, The Old Man and the Sea.
Monday, March 25, 2013
Saturday, March 23, 2013
#28: Be condescending
It's a good thing that hipster behaviour is only for hipsters. It wouldn't get you far as you climb the corporate ladder, or win you friends in the McDonalds lineup. Hipsters can be impulsive, grumpy, condescending and boring. To adult eyes, they are sometimes impossible.
But from a hipster's point of view, he's just learning to make his way in a complicated world. He feels misunderstood. He has lots of ideas (not good ones) but often no way of carrying them out. He sees big people doing all sorts of interesting things that he either can't manage, or they won't let him enjoy. What's a hipster to do then but become an eclectic mirage of counter culture - and fall into a heap of outrage if you disagree?
Such is my life right now. On Saturday I had supper with some friends, and my dear hipster friend was there. This is a person who, on December 29th, shut down just about every conversation I tried to start up. They were moody, sullen, distracted. I was back in Junior High. I tried not to take it personally, but when they got up and walked away from me when I was mid-sentence, I had had enough. I decided to take a "don't speak until spoken to" approach.
Saturday was the first time she spoke directly to me in 3 months.
"{Name} told me your musical went really well, that the accents were really good. Did they have a vocal coach?"
"Yes, ..."
"Who?"
"Me!"
Silly me for thinking she might actually think I could be good at something.
To be honest, part of my motivation for doing this project is to walk a mile in her shoes. Why does she act the way she does? Perhaps I can understand her boredom and displeasure with me if I have some more insight into what her life might actually be like. It sucks. I'm actually getting really sick of being a hipster.
For the rest of the evening I acted bored, elitest, self absorbed and condescending, all in the name of parody of course. It wasn't hard considering I'd had about 3 hours of sleep, and the wine was getting to me, but during coffee I began to perk up and act more like real me. It's hard to keep the hipster act up for too long. And my hipster glasses broke! So I didn't even wear them for them to know I was acting.
The night ended with my dear hipster friend (who has no idea about my blog, what a shame) insisting that if I go to Rome next year it would be, and I quote "Odd not to go to the Colosseum." This is the same person who acts like she's from Europe because her dad is an immigrant to Canada. No amount of Persian rugs and samovars are going to change tha fact that she was born and raised in Winnipeg. And always will be.
How's that for condescending?
Quote for today:
"The marks that humans leave are too often scars." - John Green, The Fault in our Stars
But from a hipster's point of view, he's just learning to make his way in a complicated world. He feels misunderstood. He has lots of ideas (not good ones) but often no way of carrying them out. He sees big people doing all sorts of interesting things that he either can't manage, or they won't let him enjoy. What's a hipster to do then but become an eclectic mirage of counter culture - and fall into a heap of outrage if you disagree?
Such is my life right now. On Saturday I had supper with some friends, and my dear hipster friend was there. This is a person who, on December 29th, shut down just about every conversation I tried to start up. They were moody, sullen, distracted. I was back in Junior High. I tried not to take it personally, but when they got up and walked away from me when I was mid-sentence, I had had enough. I decided to take a "don't speak until spoken to" approach.
Saturday was the first time she spoke directly to me in 3 months.
"{Name} told me your musical went really well, that the accents were really good. Did they have a vocal coach?"
"Yes, ..."
"Who?"
"Me!"
Silly me for thinking she might actually think I could be good at something.
To be honest, part of my motivation for doing this project is to walk a mile in her shoes. Why does she act the way she does? Perhaps I can understand her boredom and displeasure with me if I have some more insight into what her life might actually be like. It sucks. I'm actually getting really sick of being a hipster.
For the rest of the evening I acted bored, elitest, self absorbed and condescending, all in the name of parody of course. It wasn't hard considering I'd had about 3 hours of sleep, and the wine was getting to me, but during coffee I began to perk up and act more like real me. It's hard to keep the hipster act up for too long. And my hipster glasses broke! So I didn't even wear them for them to know I was acting.
The night ended with my dear hipster friend (who has no idea about my blog, what a shame) insisting that if I go to Rome next year it would be, and I quote "Odd not to go to the Colosseum." This is the same person who acts like she's from Europe because her dad is an immigrant to Canada. No amount of Persian rugs and samovars are going to change tha fact that she was born and raised in Winnipeg. And always will be.
How's that for condescending?
Quote for today:
"The marks that humans leave are too often scars." - John Green, The Fault in our Stars
Friday, March 22, 2013
#27: Play a ukelele
Well our school musical is all over, and now clean up begins. But not before we celebrate in style. And style in this town means a pizza party, cake and pop, and doing impersonations of famous people until 2am. Good. Clean. Fun.
So as part of the night's amusements, I played air ukelele (I had left our one at home, as I second guessed myself about bringing it along, and then forgot it) and created a mash up of some of my favourite tunes. Photo's were taken, perhaps even a video, but these shall necer see the light of day. This is me singing afterall, and we do want people to retain their hearing.
Here's the lyrics for you:
"Well you've undone me and you bet I felt it
I tried to be chill, but you're so hot that I melted
I fell right through the cracks
 |
| The Uke |
But I won't hesitate no more, no more
It cannot wait, I'm sure
There's no need to complicate, our time is short
This is out fate
I'm yours!
Hey soul sister
Ain't that mister mister on the radio, stereo
The way you move ain't fair you know
Hey sould sister I don't want to miss a single thing you do.....
Tonight
we are young
So let's set the world on fire!
We can burn brighter!
Than the sun......
Tonight."
Thanks Jason Mraz, Train and Fun for their awesome songs that can easily be manipulated into a similar key because my audience is tired an cannot hear the difference!
"Ah, music! A magic far beyond all we do here!"
- J.K Rowling, Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone
Thursday, March 21, 2013
#26: Write someone a real letter
We found this little gem at school, with a note saying we could borrow it as a prop for our musical. So to our generous benefactor, thank-you!
This also presented me with a wonderful opportunity to try writing, nay, typing someone a real letter. After inking up my hands something chronic, only to then realize some of the typebars were jammed, I admitted defeat and went the really old fashioned way. Ok, so not quite quill and ink pot old, but I put pen to paper.
I wrote this letter to my son:
Dear Gryffin,
I love you. The moment I found out I was expecting you, I started praying for you, and the type of person you would be. You, my love, have surpassed all those wishes and expectations.
The way you look at me and smile, your laugh, the way your face lights up when I walk in the room; your joy is infectious. You make me believe that anything is possible, and that I am capable of anything. You challenge me and inspire me. You make me want to be a better person everyday. It amazes me how, even at age two, you are a natural leader. You make friends quickly, are empathetic and caring, yet bold and adventurous. I know that no matter what you do in life, who you are will make all the difference. And who you are is amazing.
I know that sometimes I will disappoint you. I might miss an important game, or forget a promise I made but I want you to know that not matter what, you are my son, and I am your mom. I love you, and nothing will ever change that.
Keep smiling and dreaming,
Love Mommy XoX
I've kept it for now, but someday in the future I'll post it off to him - whether he is backpacking through Europe or living across the street - just because.
Tuesday, March 19, 2013
#25: Make a bracelet out of a fork
Easy.
So recently I have been spending A LOT of time on Etsy trying to find Nathan a really cool gift for his birthday. Something that is clearly handmade so I can pretend I made it for him, but actually well made so that he knows I didn't. Instead, I have found a bunch of things that I want, but don't necessarily need. Like vintage jewelry. And swirly straws.
One thing I stumbled across is something which was very popular back in highschool. Forklets - a bracelet made out of a fork. Nostalgia came rushing forth, along with grand delusions of starting up a fad from 12 years ago, just so that I could say that I was wearing forklets before they were cool.
Mmmmm. No such luck. My strategy was flawed. Here was the plan. I have a left over bit of 2x4 in the basement, a hammer, and a fork I got from the thrift store.
*side bar* A word of warning - people will look at you strangely if you buy just one fork from the thrift store. Why a fork? And why only one?
So basically the plan was to just smack the heck out of this fork until it was flat, and then bend it into a bracelet. so after an hour of hammering away, I had a slightly misshapen utensil, a broken fingernail and a hubby more concerned with his hammer than me.
So there we have it folks. Another attempted challenge thwarted by the guardians of true hipster living. I guess the 'fake it til you make it' strategy isn't working out so well for me. Time to try Plan B....
Until next time...
"You forget what you want to remember, and remember what you want to forget."
- Cormac MacCarthy, The Road
So recently I have been spending A LOT of time on Etsy trying to find Nathan a really cool gift for his birthday. Something that is clearly handmade so I can pretend I made it for him, but actually well made so that he knows I didn't. Instead, I have found a bunch of things that I want, but don't necessarily need. Like vintage jewelry. And swirly straws.
One thing I stumbled across is something which was very popular back in highschool. Forklets - a bracelet made out of a fork. Nostalgia came rushing forth, along with grand delusions of starting up a fad from 12 years ago, just so that I could say that I was wearing forklets before they were cool.
Mmmmm. No such luck. My strategy was flawed. Here was the plan. I have a left over bit of 2x4 in the basement, a hammer, and a fork I got from the thrift store.
*side bar* A word of warning - people will look at you strangely if you buy just one fork from the thrift store. Why a fork? And why only one?
So basically the plan was to just smack the heck out of this fork until it was flat, and then bend it into a bracelet. so after an hour of hammering away, I had a slightly misshapen utensil, a broken fingernail and a hubby more concerned with his hammer than me.
 |
| The line up |
So there we have it folks. Another attempted challenge thwarted by the guardians of true hipster living. I guess the 'fake it til you make it' strategy isn't working out so well for me. Time to try Plan B....
 |
| Busted! |
Until next time...
"You forget what you want to remember, and remember what you want to forget."
- Cormac MacCarthy, The Road
Monday, March 18, 2013
#24: Eat something gluten free
"Mrs. D, I have something for you!"
Word got out about my blog at school. Possibly by me. Regardless, I go tmy first free gift to help me with my project.
A gluten free cupcake.
Like I said in earlier posts, I have hipster students, and all in varying degrees. This girl is gluten free. I also have a vegan student, students with sock buns and iPhones, students who listen to music on vinyl... the list goes on.
It wasn't bad. A good friend of mine asked if it tasted like brown. No, not really. But I'm not sure I would go as far as making a batch myself. I have no idea where a health food store is in my town, and even if I did I shudder to think about what 1kg of gluten free flour might cost me.
Final thoughts:
"I'm not really sure which parts of myself are real and which parts are things I've gotten from books." - Beatrice Sparks, Go Ask Alice
Word got out about my blog at school. Possibly by me. Regardless, I go tmy first free gift to help me with my project.
A gluten free cupcake.
Like I said in earlier posts, I have hipster students, and all in varying degrees. This girl is gluten free. I also have a vegan student, students with sock buns and iPhones, students who listen to music on vinyl... the list goes on.
It wasn't bad. A good friend of mine asked if it tasted like brown. No, not really. But I'm not sure I would go as far as making a batch myself. I have no idea where a health food store is in my town, and even if I did I shudder to think about what 1kg of gluten free flour might cost me.
 |
| Mmmmmm.... chocolaty looking blandness |
"I'm not really sure which parts of myself are real and which parts are things I've gotten from books." - Beatrice Sparks, Go Ask Alice
#23: Wear something vintage
This was a tough one.
Ok, so get this. Once upon a time, women had curves. We're talking teeny tiny waists and 'Look-out-or-you'll-lose-an-eye' boobs and hips. To conclude, women 60 years ago could be summed up in 2 words. HOT. STUFF.
Flash forward to today. I'm looking around online, in the thrift store, in my MIL's basement, and I'm finding plenty of awesome vintagy clothes I would love to wear. Can I afford them? Hahaha, ooooh funny. But no. Can I wear them. Hmmm, maybe if I stuff my bra AND get a tummy tuck. So no. Add to that my bootylicious thighs with my long waist and I'm what some fashionistas would call a genetic 'hot mess'.
And then.... I found her. Shining like the beacon of hope she is, I had some help built in to the front, with some room to move in the hips. Shop Ruche, how I love thee. Due to the fact that I'm a bit technologically challenged at the best of times, I couldn't upload it from the website, but feel free to see the pin here (cough, shameless self promotion, cough).
http://www.pinterest.com/emmadyck/shop-ruche/
"There is always some madness in love. But there is also always some reason in madness." - Friedrich Nietzsche
Ok, so get this. Once upon a time, women had curves. We're talking teeny tiny waists and 'Look-out-or-you'll-lose-an-eye' boobs and hips. To conclude, women 60 years ago could be summed up in 2 words. HOT. STUFF.
Flash forward to today. I'm looking around online, in the thrift store, in my MIL's basement, and I'm finding plenty of awesome vintagy clothes I would love to wear. Can I afford them? Hahaha, ooooh funny. But no. Can I wear them. Hmmm, maybe if I stuff my bra AND get a tummy tuck. So no. Add to that my bootylicious thighs with my long waist and I'm what some fashionistas would call a genetic 'hot mess'.
And then.... I found her. Shining like the beacon of hope she is, I had some help built in to the front, with some room to move in the hips. Shop Ruche, how I love thee. Due to the fact that I'm a bit technologically challenged at the best of times, I couldn't upload it from the website, but feel free to see the pin here (cough, shameless self promotion, cough).
http://www.pinterest.com/emmadyck/shop-ruche/
"There is always some madness in love. But there is also always some reason in madness." - Friedrich Nietzsche
Thursday, March 14, 2013
Migranes and Musicals
Ugh. March is not shaping up too good folks. Due to some sickness and the fact that we have 4 shows in 48 hours, I'm taking a small break from blogging. I promise I will catch you up over the weekend though. Some things to look forward to:
Vintage head gear
An old typewriter
Ukeleles and
Giving someone a complex
Much love!
Vintage head gear
An old typewriter
Ukeleles and
Giving someone a complex
Much love!
Monday, March 11, 2013
#22: Write a poem
Partly because of my angst about daylight savings, and partly because I was in Winnipeg today, I decided to write a poem. It combines all of those things we love to hate about both this time and place. I call it "Ode to Winterpeg":
I remember clearly the first time we met,
Your beauty and splendor I'll never forget,
Your boisterous charm oozed from each pore,
Which at the outset I could hardly ignore.
The years have gone by, and we are still here,
The insufferable cold which I cannot compare,
As February dragged on your spell was broken,
So please take my poem as a small token.
You are a white hot mess.
With makeup smeared and dress torn,
You tiptoe away into the dawn,
You glitter and sparkle at terrible cost,
To awake to your flamboyant and trashy whore frost.
All I am left with now is the hack
Of that dreaded 2am Big Mac
Which seemed like such a good idea at the time...
You are a white hot mess.
But you are my white hot mess.
So I'll hold back your hair as you bark,
Up every wrong tree after dark,
And when Summer comes, and the turning lanes end
(seriously, when will they finish fixing Osbourne!?)
Then we can go back to being 'just friends'.
You are a white hot mess.
Final thought for today:
"Sitting around miserable all day won't make you any happier." - John Boyne, The Boy in the Striped Pajamas
I remember clearly the first time we met,
Your beauty and splendor I'll never forget,
Your boisterous charm oozed from each pore,
Which at the outset I could hardly ignore.
The years have gone by, and we are still here,
The insufferable cold which I cannot compare,
As February dragged on your spell was broken,
So please take my poem as a small token.
You are a white hot mess.
With makeup smeared and dress torn,
You tiptoe away into the dawn,
You glitter and sparkle at terrible cost,
To awake to your flamboyant and trashy whore frost.
All I am left with now is the hack
Of that dreaded 2am Big Mac
Which seemed like such a good idea at the time...
You are a white hot mess.
But you are my white hot mess.
So I'll hold back your hair as you bark,
Up every wrong tree after dark,
And when Summer comes, and the turning lanes end
(seriously, when will they finish fixing Osbourne!?)
Then we can go back to being 'just friends'.
You are a white hot mess.
Final thought for today:
"Sitting around miserable all day won't make you any happier." - John Boyne, The Boy in the Striped Pajamas
Saturday, March 9, 2013
#20 & #21: Eat Sushi and Tofu
Well folks it's that time of year again. Mother Nature has
decided to mess with us all by forcing us to change our clocks again. I'm sure
she looked great this morning when she got up. Me? Bleary eyed I stumbled into
church wearing a crumpled sweater and jeans that I'm pretty sure are on day 4.
Hot mess. Add to that a marathon week of rehearsals, takeout was in order.
Ironic living is the staple of any hipster diet. Given that
sushi was once considered an acquired taste, and new there seems to be a sushi
shop in every town in the country it is both fitting and ironic that I, your
favourite hipster, would make my own sushi. I looked online to make sure we had
all the right ingredients (we do) and then remembered one thing…
Making sushi is ridiculously time consuming.
Thus I faced my ethical dilemma head on. My stomach was
literally eating itself, so I needed food fast. Calling for takeout would
inevitably result in tears. Between my accent and the Korean shop owner, our
conversation would consist of English only slightly better than Beaker from the Muppet's. Not an option for a fatigued and famished hipster me.
Dear hubby came to my rescue. Not only did he order and pick up the sushi, but he made miso soup with tofu. Two birds with one stone; Boo ya!
"Some people skip through life; some people are dragged through it. I sometimes wonder if we are moving through time, or if time is moving through us." - Donald Miller, Blue Like Jazz
Thursday, March 7, 2013
#19: Wear an owl
Yesterday, I found myself running around, frantically putting
together hobo outfits for 16 year old boys. Elbow deep in vests, fingerless
gloves and newsies I realized I am long overdue for an outfit post. I don't
consider myself much of a fashion icon - as long as my clothes are clean and
look half decent I'm happy - but being a hipster has brought out a more savvy
and fashion forward version of me than my usual smug and sarcastic self. So
here's my fashion predictions for spring:
1. Florals
2. Triangles
3. Anything lime coloured
4. Owls
If you can wear all of these at the same time, bonus
points. My information is unquestionably reliable too. I went through a bunch
of stuff I've seen people wearing lately, and asked my magic 8 ball if they
would be 'in' this spring. Signs point to yes.
So I promise I will update this post with photo's tomorrow
of the fabulous outfit I wore yesterday. *Spoiler Alert* it included an owl. I'm way too old school for iPhone pics,
and too new school for the film kind, so while my camera is charging, you will
just have to amuse yourselves with this:
For a printable version, go here. You're welcome.
"People are, if anything, more touchy about being
thought silly than they are about being thought unjust." - E.B. White
Wednesday, March 6, 2013
#18: Drink tea from a mason jar
I feel like such a red neck. Ok, so you know those cute mason jar mugs, with the handle and nice etching on the side? Yeah I don't own one of those kind. I literally drank tea out of a jar today.
It didn't taste any different, though I would recommend wrapping something around it, or letting it cool down A LOT before picking it up to drink. Trust me to learn lessons the hard way!
"How did the hipster burn his tongue?"
"He drank his tea before it was cool!"
Ok, that was bad, but it's 11:30pm so some slack needs to be cut in my general direction. I either need to drink more caffeine or less. Being sleep deprived is the worst. Tomorrow I might wear a snuggie to school with flip flops, socks and some sweat pants with 'Juicy' written across to bum. Or maybe I'll go toddler hipster with my blankie and grandma slippers. Thursday is becoming a bit of a wildcard fashion day for me. I wonder how I could incorporate an owl into that equation...
Until next time:
"I thought insanity would be a dark bitter feeling, but it is drenching and delicious if you really roll around in it." - Kathryn Stockett, The Help
 |
| Not my cuppa tea |
"How did the hipster burn his tongue?"
"He drank his tea before it was cool!"
Ok, that was bad, but it's 11:30pm so some slack needs to be cut in my general direction. I either need to drink more caffeine or less. Being sleep deprived is the worst. Tomorrow I might wear a snuggie to school with flip flops, socks and some sweat pants with 'Juicy' written across to bum. Or maybe I'll go toddler hipster with my blankie and grandma slippers. Thursday is becoming a bit of a wildcard fashion day for me. I wonder how I could incorporate an owl into that equation...
Until next time:
"I thought insanity would be a dark bitter feeling, but it is drenching and delicious if you really roll around in it." - Kathryn Stockett, The Help
Tuesday, March 5, 2013
#17: Make your own product
After my ugly sweater challenge was thwarted by minions of the Dark Lord, I decided to leave this challenge fairly open today.
Any true, tree hugging, non-consumerist hipster knows how to get by with the contents of their kitchen garden and the organic/free range/fair trade contents of their pantry. They can make anything from face wash to pilaf with a few simple household ingredients (as in 'hard to find, expensive and from a boutique health food store). So stuff it, today I was going to make my own product - something I would usually buy during my weekly shop at Superstore.
I looked high and low online, and clicked on the first link that came up under my Google search of "How to make your own body scrub" and got this link.
So I made this:
Any true, tree hugging, non-consumerist hipster knows how to get by with the contents of their kitchen garden and the organic/free range/fair trade contents of their pantry. They can make anything from face wash to pilaf with a few simple household ingredients (as in 'hard to find, expensive and from a boutique health food store). So stuff it, today I was going to make my own product - something I would usually buy during my weekly shop at Superstore.
I looked high and low online, and clicked on the first link that came up under my Google search of "How to make your own body scrub" and got this link.
So I made this:
Ingredients:
1C Organic Certified Fair Trade Coffee Grounds
1/4 C Sugar
2 Tbs Olive Oil
Recipie:
Mix ingredients together, adding oil last. Scrub on body.
Awesome sauce!
Note to self: This is one of the plastic containers left over from my Recycling challenge that I decided to re-use instead of throwing out. Cue self-congratulatory pat on the back!
And, for this evening's entertainment:
"What you do, the way you think, makes you beautiful." - Scott Westerfeld, Uglies
Monday, March 4, 2013
#16: Wear an ugly sweater
So I went to the thrift store on Saturday looking for a number of things, among which was an ugly sweater. I'm not just talking the cigarette-yellowed ill-fitting kind. I'm talking Christmas themed with 3D pom poms as hanging ornaments off some shag carpet looking tree. I am sad to report, this is the first hipster challenge I have failed! However, I did stumble upon another treasure...
I was heading down to the book section of the store, you know, to find some Hemingway or Fitzgerald (again, nothing! What kind of thrift store is this!?). So I rounded the corner past housewares and stopped dead in my tracks. My heart started pounding, the blood rushing in my ears and my hands went numb and sweaty. There they were, Hipsters. And not just one, but a hipster couple, and even rarer find in Steinbach. I didn't know what to do other than hide around the corner and pretend I hadn't noticed them. Has this ever happened to you. You know, when you get a new car, and suddenly you notice everyone else who has the same car as you?I think that's happening to me, but with hipsters. I took a deep breath and gathered my thoughts, which amounted to this:
'I wonder what they have in their trolley?'
As I pretended to look at mismatched ceramics, I hatched a plan. I casually waited until they got to the end of the aisle, and then just happened to bump into them. We exchanged bored and condescending glances at one another before moving on.
Here's what they had:
1. Wire coat hangers
2. A beige floral tea pot and tea set
3. Miscellaneous items of brown clothing
4. 'Flour' 'Sugar' and 'Tea' canisters in that retro 70's orange hue
But it didn't end there. I left the thrift store, and went to Superstore to pursue my ugly sweater quest (I found something for $10, but I've received 5 compliments on it since Saturday so I guess that means it doesn't count) and on my way out what did I see? ANOTHER hipster couple! These ones were quite different though. The one's at the thrift store looked as if they just rolled out of a forest where they have been living in a tree house for the last 7 years. These were classy hipsters. They were all dressed in black, with matching androgynous haircuts, black RayBans, and converse shoes. Even their cloth shopping bags were black (How ironic, that their 'green' bags are not actually green).
I need to know more. I thought there was just one type of hipster. No wonder I have read so much contradictory information online about them - there is more than one type. I feel you input, dear reader, and more research is required. So let me know - what type of hipsters live in your neighbourhood?
Tonight's ponderation:
"But you can't get away from yourself. You can't decide not to see yourself anymore. You can't decide to turn off the noise in your head." - Jay Asher, Thirteen Reasons Why
I was heading down to the book section of the store, you know, to find some Hemingway or Fitzgerald (again, nothing! What kind of thrift store is this!?). So I rounded the corner past housewares and stopped dead in my tracks. My heart started pounding, the blood rushing in my ears and my hands went numb and sweaty. There they were, Hipsters. And not just one, but a hipster couple, and even rarer find in Steinbach. I didn't know what to do other than hide around the corner and pretend I hadn't noticed them. Has this ever happened to you. You know, when you get a new car, and suddenly you notice everyone else who has the same car as you?I think that's happening to me, but with hipsters. I took a deep breath and gathered my thoughts, which amounted to this:
'I wonder what they have in their trolley?'
As I pretended to look at mismatched ceramics, I hatched a plan. I casually waited until they got to the end of the aisle, and then just happened to bump into them. We exchanged bored and condescending glances at one another before moving on.
Here's what they had:
1. Wire coat hangers
2. A beige floral tea pot and tea set
3. Miscellaneous items of brown clothing
4. 'Flour' 'Sugar' and 'Tea' canisters in that retro 70's orange hue
But it didn't end there. I left the thrift store, and went to Superstore to pursue my ugly sweater quest (I found something for $10, but I've received 5 compliments on it since Saturday so I guess that means it doesn't count) and on my way out what did I see? ANOTHER hipster couple! These ones were quite different though. The one's at the thrift store looked as if they just rolled out of a forest where they have been living in a tree house for the last 7 years. These were classy hipsters. They were all dressed in black, with matching androgynous haircuts, black RayBans, and converse shoes. Even their cloth shopping bags were black (How ironic, that their 'green' bags are not actually green).
I need to know more. I thought there was just one type of hipster. No wonder I have read so much contradictory information online about them - there is more than one type. I feel you input, dear reader, and more research is required. So let me know - what type of hipsters live in your neighbourhood?
Tonight's ponderation:
"But you can't get away from yourself. You can't decide not to see yourself anymore. You can't decide to turn off the noise in your head." - Jay Asher, Thirteen Reasons Why
Saturday, March 2, 2013
#15: I liked them better before they went mainstream
"Oh I love this song!"
The radio cranked up, and a handful of paint sodden teenagers began singing away to Rihanna.
"Have you heard her new one?" some one else asked.
"You mean 'Stay'? It's alright. What's the name of that guys who sings with her?"
"I think it's like Mikky or something."
No-one knew. Hipster me couldn't resist. I'd been saving this one up for just this occasion.
"Mikky Ekko. Yeah, he's pretty good. I liked him way better before he went mainstream though."
I had no idea what I was talking about. I only knew about the song because Nathan thought 'Diamonds' was a collaboration between Ke$ha and Ri (it isn't by the way) and we had stumbled across it as a result of our YouTubing escapades.
I did a little more digging and found out Mikky Ekko is not an up-and-coming Scandinavian artist, as his name may mislead you to believe. No, he is a hybrid hipster/pop artist who is American (of all things!) and has been around for a few years now. I bestowed this wealth of absolutely plagiarized knowledge onto my tween audience (thanks wikipedia), most of whom tuned me out and kept singing along.
"Like Diamonds in the sky!"
I guess that's what happens when you start convincingly acting like a hipster. People tune you out eventually. I received a rather backhanded compliment today though. I over heard some grade 8/9 kids talking about me in the canteen. Who am I? I'm 'That hipster teacher' - yes!
Apropos for this evening:
"My thoughts are stars I cannot fathom into constellations." - John Green, The Fault in our Stars
The radio cranked up, and a handful of paint sodden teenagers began singing away to Rihanna.
"Have you heard her new one?" some one else asked.
"You mean 'Stay'? It's alright. What's the name of that guys who sings with her?"
"I think it's like Mikky or something."
No-one knew. Hipster me couldn't resist. I'd been saving this one up for just this occasion.
"Mikky Ekko. Yeah, he's pretty good. I liked him way better before he went mainstream though."
I had no idea what I was talking about. I only knew about the song because Nathan thought 'Diamonds' was a collaboration between Ke$ha and Ri (it isn't by the way) and we had stumbled across it as a result of our YouTubing escapades.
I did a little more digging and found out Mikky Ekko is not an up-and-coming Scandinavian artist, as his name may mislead you to believe. No, he is a hybrid hipster/pop artist who is American (of all things!) and has been around for a few years now. I bestowed this wealth of absolutely plagiarized knowledge onto my tween audience (thanks wikipedia), most of whom tuned me out and kept singing along.
"Like Diamonds in the sky!"
I guess that's what happens when you start convincingly acting like a hipster. People tune you out eventually. I received a rather backhanded compliment today though. I over heard some grade 8/9 kids talking about me in the canteen. Who am I? I'm 'That hipster teacher' - yes!
Apropos for this evening:
"My thoughts are stars I cannot fathom into constellations." - John Green, The Fault in our Stars
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