Letters to a young artist

My dreams of become an artist have quickly spiraled into becoming a novelist.  It seems as though I've become less passionate about expressing myself onto canvas and have become more passionate about expressing myself through writing.  An artist is someone who expresses themselves artistically, so I suppose a novelist is an artist.  I just realized I'm not sure I want to seek a career in the visual arts as much as I once longed to do.

I e-mailed Lesley Crewe, a well known published writer from Cape Breton, seeking for advice.  So, this advice I'm going to pass onto you. "If your goal is to be published," Lesley wrote, "then you're in for a lot of misery, because getting published these days is pretty difficult." Hmm.  No... the only reason I write is because I love it.  I certainly never had dreams of being published when I was seven, writing down my heart and soul into tattered pages of my Mickey Mouse diary.  Lesley told me if that's my only goal, that I may be waiting a very long time.  This advice is good for anyone seeking fame in the arts... or anything.  Do whatever you want to do... for yourself;  Don't do it for anyone else or for any other reason than that.

"I you write because you want to, and if you write for only yourself, you'll have wonderful writing experience."

I suppose I strive to be a writer for self fulfillment and if I stumble upon success, then kudos!

"But I have a feeling, if writing is your love, then you'll do it for yourself and no one else. That is the best.  That way you're free and not encumbered by what you think others want from you."  That's excellent advice.  This is part of the reason why my love for painting and drawing has diminished into turmoil.  I was under the constant pressure of having to paint and draw what people wanted me to.  It quickly became a chore - a chore I wanted to have done and over with - a chore I wanted to bury in the past.

"Trust yourself and your talent and know that you are a writer when the writing is all that matters to you.  Getting published isn't what makes you a writer.  If you love it more than anything, then you're already a writer."

We are all writers already.  We're the authors of our own lives. We shouldn't live in accordance to other people.  We should live for ourselves and strive for self fulfillment and our own happiness.  Every day is a new page waiting to be filled... so go out and fill it.

Note to Frosh:

Well well well,

it's that time again, folks!

I'm sure those of you anxiously clenching your Mount Allison acceptance letters are more than ready to finally leave the house you grew up in.  I know that I certainly was.  My three years at Mount Allison flew by but I'll try to remember back from when I was in your shoes to give you some advice for the next eight months to come.

So, here are some necessities to have packed (especially if you're in residence):

1. A whiteboard for your door. YES YES YES. This is definitely what you need.  Pick up some colorful dry-erase markers while you're at it.  Do you get excited when you get a parcel or letter in the mail? I certainly do.  This is exactly the excitement that tickles your toes when you discover a friendly message on your whiteboard.  Write on your neighbours' and they'll do the same.  It's so much better than writing on Facebook walls!

2. A floor mat to put in front of your door.  S is for Sackville and S is also for SNOW... and LOTS of it! So, it's VERY handy to have something to soak up all the slosh from your shoes when you're after trucking through mountains of snow.

3. Posters, pictures and prettifications.  Keep in mind that your room is going to be your room for the next eight months... so you're going to want to personalize it!  Your room shares the essence of a hospital room splattered with bare walls and emptiness, so be sure to bring things that will make it "you". When new friends visit your room, they'll get to know a lot more about you by its aesthetic appearance... so doll it up!

4. Sandals. Unless you're in Campbell res, you're going to be sharing communal washrooms and showers.  I cringe at the thought of my feet alone... so think about the many peoples' feets that you'll be sharing headquarters with.  Yes.  Pack a few pair of flipflops to sport in the shower.

5. Power bar with surge protection. For some safety reasons (though MANY people refuse to obey this), you're prohibited from using extension cords... so get a power bar or two to supply the source needed for all your electronic junk.

6. Stackable storage bins. These are super super handy. It's hard to keep organized in a small space, especially if you have a roommate. You can NEVER have too many stackable storage bins!  You can get ones in the dollar store in various colours!

7. A Glade plug-in. The preferred snack in residence, for some reason or another, is microwave popcorn.  Sure, it's great at first... but I'm not over exaggerating when I say you'll be walking down the hall to the scent of buttered popcorn every day/night.  You'll need something to mask the nauseating scent(it becomes nauseating after you're forced to consume it every day) so pick up one of these plug-ins and a few bottles of Febreeze.

8. ALARM CLOCK. This is pretty obvious. If you don't have a cell phone equipped with an alarm, you'll definitely need to pick up one of these.  It can be hard to haul your rear out of bed for those 8:30am classes so you'll need an alarm clock with an obnoxious crow for that extra push.

9. QUARTERS. You've probably already packed numerous rolls of quarters.  Now, times it by ten and pack the difference. You really have no idea how many quarters you'll need for laundry. And quarters you have stashed away for laundry will quickly turn into quarters for the vending machines in the lobby. Oh, those vending machines will come in handy to quench your late night cravings for munchies.

10. A ridiculous amount of warm clothes. If you haven't read my blog on Sackville winters, click here. So, don't forget to pack your scarves, mits, hats, etc. in order to survive snowy Sackville storms.

Hopefully, this blog will be of help to you while you're double checking your packing list!  Look me up when you get to town and I'll be more than happy to show you the ropes.

Take care for now!

Prankwar.

When the counselors go to camp, we go to camp prepared. And by prepared, I mean fully equipped with the following: saran wrap, tin foil, multiple rolls of duct tape or any kind of tape, string and rope. We are fully prepared for war. And by war, I mean a week of prankfest.

It's become a little bit harder to get away with planning pranks when we know eachother and eachother's daily schedule's in and out. We know right away when one of the guys are missing or if something fishy is going on. And they usually sense when we're up to something. Two weeks of camp have gone by with harmless pranks and we all still await for the extravagant ones that we are seemingly oblivious to.


Last summer, the female staff got up at 4am in the morning during the last day of camp. During the week at camp we'd carefully snatched the male staffs' car keys. We parked their three cars in the middle of the field and proceeded to wrap them in saran wrap, wrapping paper and post-id notes. We'd been stealing their clothes all week and froze them. So, we took their frozen clothes and placed them neatly on the designated cars. We tied their cars together with rope and just taped random objects (whatever we could find) to their cars. They didn't know what to think when they woke up in the morning and saw it. Their reactions were absolutely hilarious and they have yet to get us back for this top of the line prank.

The staff form different alliances, banding together. Last week, one of the female volunteers was "on the guys' side" but was secretly telling us everything the guys were planning. So we were one step ahead of them. However, I'll give it to the guys. They did get us good. We'd been sneakily trying to get their car keys again. For example, Morgan tossed Liam his car keys in the air and we snatched them. I announced that was too easy and we gave them back. I knew it wasn't Liam's keys. They were trying to fool us. This happened a few more times. We then found Liam's keys in the couch. Later, we saw him searching through the cushions cursing. We snickered. We set our alarms and woke up at 4am. We creeped our way up to where Liam's car was. I went to open the door... the key wouldn't work and neither did his automatic car starter. We were livid. We turned around to go back to bed when Liam rolled out from under a tree, shined a flash light at us and said, "FAIL!"

They've only been playing defense so far. But we have a feeling they're cooking up something. I head back to camp for the week again tomorrow with my necessary tools for any pranks. I'll keep you posted!

A Canoe Adventure

We were getting ready for a little canoing trip. Three female counselors, myself, and 7 campers. There weren't enough life jackets for everyone, so Donna and I said we'd be ok without wearing one. I asked Lana, the director, is this was ok. She replied, "Yes, you know how to swim.. and Beth, you're a lifeguard." I nodded in agreement and we headed towards the water for our canoe adventure.

***

I sat in the canoe, paddling as hard as I could with little to no progress. I was in a forever fight with the current's waves which were pushing effortlessly against me. I tried to remain calm so the camper in my canoe would believe I knew what I was doing. I concluded that I wasn't going to win the fight. I hopped out of the canoe. The water's coldness creeped through my body and I cringed. Rocks and oysters clawed at my feet but my face remained made of stone. I hauled the canoe to the shore. Another canoe full of campers floated down with the current. I swam over to their canoe, fighting against the current, and hauled it to shore. I told them to sit tight.

The last two canoes were on there way towards us. I was yelling at them to turn around. That failed. I swam through the current once more, wondering why this day of all days was the day I was stuck without a life jacket. I hauled two of the canoes together. I tried to get everyone out of the current but it just kept getting worse and worse. I yelled to a fellow counselor that we'd have to go back and get the male staff for help. Two canoes managed to turn around and were heading back towards the camp to flag down the rest of the staff. I peered out at the canoes fighting to head back towards the camp and concluded there was no way there were going to make it back quickly; The wind was too strung now. I stood up to waist in the water with my scraped feet. I decided I'd take the road back. I ran through the woods, telling the campers and two staff that were stuck to stay put while I'd go get help.

I never ran so fast in my life. I flagged down a truck and breathlessly told them the situation. He told me to hop in while he drove me back to the camp. I ran to the main building, my shoes being kicked in the air and grabbed the airhorn. I blew it twice and proceeded to sprint towards the beach were the kids and male staff were. I ran as fast as I could. Morgan, the lifeguard, saw me with worry and question in his eyes. I collapsed to the sand, clenching my sides as I gasped for breath. "Canoes.... stuck.... current.... help," is all I managed to squeeze through each breath. I managed to explain what had happened and we all headed back to the camp. Liam, Morgan, and I headed in a car and truck to where the canoes were stuck. We drove the campers and canoes back to camp.

It certainly was an adventurous day.

RIP MP

I'm so sorry for my lack of updates lately.  I've been ridiculously busy with my art and with getting ready for CAMP CAMP CAMP!  I can't even express my excitement for camp.  Although, I'm a little worried because our little camp is fighting to survive and if we don't get an increase in registration numbers within the next two weeks before the first week of camp starts, it's not going to be good.

Sydney Presbytery Camping Program, formerly known as Mira Pines, is the same camp I've attended since I was nine years old.  When I was sixteen and seventeen, I volunteered my whole summers there and then the past two years I've worked there.  This year will be my third.  As a camper, the week I spent there was easily the best week of my summer.  Some of my most favorite memories are of the many nights I spent at the camp.  There is no greater feeling than at the end of the week you get when you hear the campers tell their parents how much of a great time they've had and that they can't wait until next summer.

There was a huge controversy so blown up into the realm of irrationality that I can't even tell you what it was about.  Something along the lines of a contract and lack of money made "them" (whoever "they" are) force us out of the campsite that held a home in our hearts for years.  We had to basically move to another campsite.  We were at two different ones the last two years, and our original campsite has been torn down to the ground.  The same bunks I slept in and chalked my name across with crayon no longer exist.  Mira Pines Campsite, which was once full of the anticipation of camp to start, has been put to rest.

"Different Site, Same Spirit" has been our slogan for the past two years but we've attended many meetings in which the existence of camp in the future was debated.  The camp registration fees for our camp have increased brutally, therefore, the registration numbers are at a standstill.  The price has risen from $150 to $360 for one camper.  We've been getting parents calling outraged by the increase (obviously).  The staff has nothing to do with it and we've done everything in our power to try to get the fee to decrease back to a rational one.  The cost is so high because the camp didn't make any profit in a very long time.  But since WHEN is it about money?  Kids have nothing these days to keep occupied and the access to drugs/alcohol is so much easier than we were kids so a lot of them are resorting to this as a means of entertainment.  Camps are one of the only things we can count on;  People don't realize how important they are... especially the people who only want to make money from them.  It's not about the money.  At all.  It's about helping kids have an unbelievable summer.  

I've tried contacting the local newspaper, radio stations and TV ad agencies to help promote the camp.  I've gotten little to no feedback, therefore, I'm very disappointed in the community who doesn't seem to want to help Mira Pines.  I've made an online website for the camp so kids can register online - a lot more convenient than in the past : www.sydneypcampingp.com and we've printed many posters to advertise.

With a campsite that holds about 35 campers, there are only 5 registered for the first week of camp.  This is unbelievably heartbreaking and it seems my only wish is lingered on the hope of winning the lottery so I can buy back the original campsite and help campers (new and old) to continue to spend their summers at their favorite place.

I left my heart in San Francisco

"So, do you think you'll go back to San Francisco again?" my mother asked me on my way out the door. I paused and looked at her, "I loved San Fran, Mum, but there's a whole world out there I've yet to see."  She smiled and asked me where I would go next year. I shrugged but my heart is set on Ireland.

San Francisco was great and I saw everything I wanted to see.  It was a little overwhelming at first and somewhat surreal.  I got to see the Golden Gate Bridge, Haight/Ashbury, The Painted Ladies (shown in the intro for Full House), Pier 39 & Fisherman's Warf, countless markets, an aquarium where I got to pet some funky underwater animals, tried sushi for the first time (and by 'tried' I mean chewed, gag, and spit it out), mastered the art of chopsticks, rode up and down the ridiculously steep hills, learned all about hookah, visited the Modern Art Museum, realized I didn't like photography, drank beer, played scrabble, grew close with old friends and met new friends.  It was overall a satisfying trip; I was surely sad to leave California but I'm sure I'll make my way back there again someday.

I was hoping the trip would shed some light on what kind of art I want to make in fourth year at MtA.  I realized that my love for photography has diminished.  Photography is so popular now because anyone can be a photographer if given a nice camera.  There is no magic to photography anymore; it used to be about the element of surprise - not knowing exactly how your pictures would turn out until you developed them yourself.  But now that everything is digital, you can delete and retake to your heart's content until you find a picture you really like.  To me, it's sort of like cheating the system.  Obviously, not everyone feels this way and a lot of people really enjoy looking at photography and enjoy taking photographs - but for me, it's different.  And once you've seen one photograph, you've seen them all.  I'll regain interest when I stumble upon a photographer who does something different than what the rest of the photography world is doing.

A few years ago, in Cape Breton, a photographer grew quickly popular - advertising his photographs all over malls, the newspapers and television.  Everyone wanted to be one John Ratchford's models who glowed in these magnificent photographs... and you could.  It was like a frenzy where everyone where I'm from grew obsessed with this photographer and it was the "cool" thing to go be photographed by him.

I was one of them.  For a ridiculously high price, I went in to his studio where he photographed my graduation picture as well as some "cover girl" shots, and he photographed me with my artwork.  

Every time you walked through the mall, you would stop to look at his photographs to see if you knew any of the people in them.  You almost always did.  A lot of other artists started adopting his photoshopped style of black and white photographs with only selected color items in them (Such as a guitar player gripping his guitar which was blue, while the rest of the photograph was in black and white).  This was new.  But now everyone with a camera can do this.  Why would you go spend thousands of dollars when you can easily just go do it yourself?

With free trials of Adobe photoshop, Youtube tutorials and other online tutorials, Facebook applications such as "Picnik" and digital cameras, it's as easy as pie to become a photographer.  People no longer slow down to see if they recognize faces in Ratchford's photographs in the mall because they can just go home, log on to Facebook and do the same.

A novel.

I want to write a novel.

I was reading through entries upon entries in an online diary I've been keeping since I was sixteen and I was inevitably getting soaked up into my own writing.  My two best friends sat on the bed beside me, while I sat at the computer reading them selected memories I'd recorded through my life.  They sat, enthralled.  I looked at them, "Are you sure you're not bored?"  They giggled like schoolgirls and chimed, "No" almost too effortlessly.

"Beth, you HAVE to write a novel," Jess told me.  Another friend, Meg, told me once, "You write in such a way women can relate to."

I can't really explain it so you'll understand, buts sometimes I get snapped into a writing zone where various words are jumbled in my head.  A scene is created;  An emotion merges and I have to open up my laptop and write exactly what's in my head before I lose this sudden surge.  It happens a lot.  It's been happening since I was sixteen.  I write after this sudden surge and I feel a strong sense of satisfaction when rereading the paragraph what I wrote.

I need to write a novel.  I'm going to write a novel.  I've already started.  I've started since I was sixteen... writing down random scenes filled with character and emotion whenever it'd come to me.  I told my brother-in-law that I wanted to write a novel.  He looked at me and said, "Write what you know."  What do I know?  Boys.  Love.  Heartache.  Independence.  It's what most girls write in their journals or diaries and I have hundreds of entries upon entries to use as motivation and my foundation.

I am, now, in novel-mode.

***

I fly to San Francisco tomorrow.  I've never been so excited for myself.  Like my future novel, this is something I need to do for myself.  This is something I need to experience by myself, which is why I'm going alone.  Like writing a good paragraph and feeling a strong sense of satisfaction, I need to breathe air with a hunger for adventure and a happiness for life.  I need to go to California and come back feeling that strong sense of satisfaction.