Wednesday, 28 April 2010

Broken Computer

Love is a medicine for the sickness of the world; a prescription often given, too rarely taken.

Our home computer has been hit by a massively massive virus, and I am forebidden from touching, looking or even thinking about going within a 10 metre radius. We are anxiously awaiting the return of my host brother from university so that he can fix it. Luckily, this will be next week. Due to this, clearly I'm not going to be posting very much, not that I've been posting all that regularly anyway.

Happy Cup Day the blog was started during a time in which I didn't always have a lot to do. It was an excellent outlet, and I thoroughly enjoyed writing regularly. Things started to pick up here, and some of my priorities had to take a back bench. Originally I just started going to bed at 3AM, but for those of you that have experienced 'Emily Jane When Tired', you'll know it's not pleasant. So HCD has been neglected of late, which makes me sad. However, it would be foolish to spend time writing in English, when I have the opportunity to socialise in French (that being The Idea of the trip).

On that note, I can make no promises as to a full recovery of HCD as of May, but what I do promise is to try. I'm posting this now after having braved horrific winds and walked to the library, and I'm planning to do the same again over the weekend. I have some articles in mind including:
  • New York Haul
  • Babelcute: tourist
  • Birthday Highlights
  • Lazy Girl's Guide to a LoliShag (haircut!..what you do in your spare time in none of my business...)

Yes, you did read 'Birthday Highlights' correctly. Tomorrow, I turn 18. Right now, I am on the very brink of womanhood.

To be honest, I think I felt more like an adult when I was fourteen...

Sunday, 25 April 2010

Back from New York

I am so tired I think my eyes are going to fall out.

More importantly, my trip to NY was perfect. I spent way too long on buses, I didn't have as many showers as I'd have liked to, and I ate like a pig. My photos are a mix-matched collection...sometimes blurry, oddly angled, pouty, posey....I love them.

It was my second time in New York. First time round, it was hot. And smelly. I liked New York, but I couldn't exactly see what the major major fuss was about.
I must have had my eyes closed.

This time round, I fell in love. The diversity, the noise, the personalities. It could be so easy to feel lonely in such a big city, but the feeling of community is so strong, and I felt right at home. Just taking a slow walk around Times Square I was thinking 'This is it, ma fille.'

New York; you're mine...

Wednesday, 21 April 2010

Stupidly Short

I have minus amounts of time so this is short.


In one hours time I shall be on my way to New York...17 hour bus drive, here I come.

See you Sunday!

I'm nearly there New York...are you ready?

Tuesday, 20 April 2010

Hair Cut

Let us dance in the sun, wearing wild flowers in our hair...

As you may have noticed in the past couple of posts, my hair colour has changed...again. I used Fuxia - Vitality's Art Absolute Pure. You buy the colourant and the peroxide seperately and mix it up yourself. I ignored this, just bought the colourant, deposited it on my head and waited forty minutes. Where my hair has been previously coloured, it's taken rather nicely, but I am still left with a cm of Emily Jane au naturel.

Then today I got a hair cut. The ends of my hair were deady dead dead, so I decided to be severe
and have everything that wasn't perfect cut off. I returned from the hairdressers (half blow dry, then long walk in the wind) looking like this:
which is frankly, a less-than-inspiring hair cut. I got that 'oooooh God, what have I done' feeling in my belly.

However, I am not one to give up without a fight, so 15 minutes and some hair spray later, it looked like this:

What is the moral of the story?
Hair cuts don't have to be scary, and long live hair spray.

Leaving Meal Outfit

Vanity is my favourite sin.

I have a collection of photos taken over the past week or so of various outfits...are a run down of some of my outfits something we're interested in? Leave a comment or get in touch at and let me know. Of course you could just pull me over in the street. Whatever tickles your pickle.

Dress: Yumi
Headband: Ardene
Tights: New Look
Shoes: Carvella

And this is the make-up I teamed with it.

"The purest and most thoughtful minds are those which love colour the most."
I must be on the right track then...

Tarot and goodbyes

This is my simple religion. There is no need for temples; no need for complicated philosophy. Our own brain, our own heart is our temple; the philosophy is kindness.

I've never been a spiritual or superstitious person. When I was seven I broke a mirror, and the ensuing years leading up to my fourteenth birthday were certainly not marred by bad luck. I do have a soft spot for fate however, and the idea of serendipity. This is backed fiercely by my romanticism, rather than anything faith driven. Tarot, I find rather fascinating. Not that I believe necessarily that there is something bigger than us at work when we draw cards, but our reactions to the ensuing results are a fascinating way of realising what we actually want the cards to say. Therefore, we ourselves answer our original question. So when Bridget asked if I wanted her to pull my cards, naturally I jumped at the chance.

Bridge says:

for "the best action to take" you got the knight of swords, who represents obstacles that must be overcome if progress is to take place

it also sometimes represents a man bursting into your life

watch out for that


Emily Jane says:

bursting is always appreciated

* * * *

Sunday night was the goodbye meal for another exchange student, who hails from Alberta. Alexandria has been excellent to have around for the past three months. We've engaged in everything from castle building and biscuits, through whale orientated political parties, to Calamari and piggy banks. Accompanied always (seriously, without fail) by talk of beautiful men. The only person to truly understand an exchange student is another one, so thank you, Alex, for letting me rant, and for yourself ranting in return.

There's no-one here but Alex

I hope you never forget what you have learnt here, and that one day, perhaps, you'll be able to smile without looking stoned.
(I'm working on that too..)

Sunday, 18 April 2010

Twelfth Fan!

The best leaders inspire by example. When that's not an option, brute intimidation works pretty well, too.

Goodness me, a happy day indeed.
Violet LeBeaux has become the latest follower of Happy Cup Day, and I am over the moon. I actually did a little victory dance in my swivel chair (the second victory dance of the victorious I am feeling!). Her blog is inspiring, her attititude humbling, and her nails..well they're just freaking awesome. Truly the Queen of the Hime Gyarus.

So without much further ado, a warm Happy Cup Day welcome to Violet!

I dare say you haven't had much practice, said the Queen. When I was your age, I always did it for half an hour a day. Why, sometimes I've believed as many as six impossible things before breakfast...

Friday, 16 April 2010

Lazy Girl's Guide to Deco

She may very well pass for forty-three in the dusk, with a light behind her

You will need:
  • Cheap hand-held mirror
  • Snacks
  • Large flat backed jewels
  • Short attention span
  • Craft glue
  • Pyjamas
Step one: Arrange self comfortably on bed with most of the above
Step two: Realise you've forgotten something vital
Step three: Haul ass out of bed and get it
Step four: Apply glue to individual jewel and, starting in the middle, apply in a mildly haphazard manner.
Step five: Attempt to not use the same jewel twice in the same area

Step six: Perfect art of eating whilst crafting, taking care not to glue down snacks, or snack on glue
Step seven: Get bored half way through and take a nap
Step eight: Wake up several hours later, confused
Step nine: Realise that it's taking too long, and decide to bodge it

Step ten: Apply glue willy-nilly to back of mirror and stick on whichever jewel comes to hand
Step eleven: Get frustrated that only certain shapes are left, and that they're all the same colour
Step twelve: Rush finish job

Step thirteen: Camera whore excessively with finished product
Step fourteen: Vow never to attempt any sort of deco again
Step fifteen: Hide epic failure behind a "witty" blog post
Step sixteen: Go to Violet LeBeaux's blog
Step seventeen: Look jealously at her deco skills
Step eighteen: Forget step fourteen
Step nineteen: Order cabochons and tiny diamontés from the internet
Step twenty: Embark on next deco adventure

It's not denial. I'm just selective about the reality I accept...

Cunning Plan: Project Pink

I believe I will dip my pink-and-white body in yon Roman tub. I feel a bit gritty after the affairs of the day.

Personally, I believed that one was either a pink person, or a red person, but never both. This was reflected by the sheer volume of red things I possessed: camera, shoes, hair, iPod, gloves, carpet, lips...just to name a few. But recently I've felt a real longing for more pink.

On that note, here is the plan in all its simplicity:
if pink is an option, pink is the answer.

So far I've been taking baby pink highlighter has been getting a lot of action recently, along with the only pink item of clothing I own (yes, that is Blossom from the Powerpuff Girls).

I've also purchased two pink lipsticks and a pair of pink slippers.

I'm heading off to New York next Wednesday with the school (you cannot appreciate how excited I am), and man, oh man, I am going to have a pink field day.

Weeeeee'lllll drink a drink a drink to lily the pink the pink the pink...

Sunday, 11 April 2010

Sneaky Peeklet

If I stand here, I can see the Little Red Haired girl when she comes out of her house...of course, if she sees me peeking around this tree, she'll think I'm the dumbest person in the world...

A teeny peek at my prom dress...I couldn't resist (:

I am real

"...Likewise, if you look “just nice” in person, you will look “a bit on the plump side” in photos. True, there’s this operating theatre known as Photoshop and we can always perform digital surgery on ourselves."

I usually give credit when I quote from blogs, but not today. In this person's defence, the end of the article is more in defence of not having to skinny down. But still..

Photoshopping...really?! I read this and was astonished.

For me, the blogging world is somewhere we can turn to to follow examples of real people. Of real people, away from the bright lights and high expectations of the glossy pages.

But us real girls get belly rolls when we sit down, our skin isn't always clear, our arms do a little bingo wing jiggling when we wave, and patterned socks distort over our calves. This is all oh so true for me; but my god, I am so deliriously happy with myself right now.

Underneath hair dye, make up, eccentric clothes, high heels and hold em up and in bras, we are just girls. We are girls that make mistakes. We are girls that succeed. We are girls that write. When we go to bed we are nothing but our natural state. And it is essential that we are happy like that, because otherwise, what exactly are we happy with?

So to those of you who photoshop before you reveal, please feel free to go ahead. I must say, it's a mighty skill to be able to use this software so effectively. I have minus amounts of skill in this department...even if I wanted to photoshop myself, I couldn't. Well done for perfecting this art, as art it is, just as it is art when we sculpt our hair and paint our faces.

But now, with my 12 megapixel Holly, I promise you that I will never, ever, photoshop photos of myself.

Do you think, because I am poor, obscure, plain, and little, I am soulless and heartless? You think wrong! — I have as much soul as you — and full as much heart!

She's making a comeback

A lot of people are waiting for Martin Luther King or Mahatma Gandhi to come back -- but they are gone. We are it. It is up to us. It is up to you.

I was gone for a week. A week of being extremely busy for seemingly no apparent reason. A week of never eating dinner at home, of walking a lot, and of talking in English more than I probably should have done. Yet Happy Cup Day was always at the back of my mind, niggling, waiting.

I have, however, managed to not only buy a new camera (yay!) but also a prom dress!

And there she is, my new camera! Her name is Holly.

You'll have to wait til June to see my dress though...

Sunday, 4 April 2010

She's a real girl

They used a doll when I fall through the ceiling

Today brought forth another glorious day. I ate way too much chocolate, spent a lot of time with my host family, and finished the day by devouring a fairly sizeable chunk of rabbit. The cuter the better, that's what I say.

I made the most of the fantastic weather by taking another long walk. I effectively wore this outfit, although this picture was taken a couple of weeks ago (clearly, as I am now camera-less). I also had knee highs and my coat (it may have been nice out, but it's not summer yet!). All along the path in the park, strangers were saying 'Bonjour', older men were dipping their caps, and little girls were grinning inanely at me.

Blank minded, I turned the corner at the end of the path and entered the marina. Hanging on to her father was a tiny girl, no more than four years old, and the cutest little thing you've seen in your life. She pulled on her daddy's hand, pointed at me and said 'Papa, papa....c'est une vraie poupée!' (Dad,'s a real doll!).

Best compliment I've had this year? I think it just might've been...

Saturday, 3 April 2010

Easter, realisations and a confession.

Hearing nuns' confessions is like being stoned to death with popcorn

I warn you, this is one of those posts.

I'll start with the confession; I lost my camera.

The weather here was gorgeous, then suddenly snowy and horrible, then generally a bit miserable. Yesterday it got up to 6C, so I went for a really long walk with my camera. I ended up walking all the way to Dollarama, and buying my first, timid, deco supplies (more on that later). This is a good 50 minute brisk walk each way, but I did a massive amount of camera whoring in the sunshine, and all was good. Around 5pm, I arrived at the church which overlooks the park and the river, and isn't further than five minutes walk from my house. I specifically remember taking out my camera to take a picture of the park, because a sudden fog had descended. After that, I have no clue.

Several hours later, at home, I wanted to upload my pictures to the computer. My camera was nowhere to be found. I searched through the bags, my various pockets, the kitchen, the hall, the living room, my room, but to no avail. I figured I was just overlooking it.

Today I tried again. I searched in all the same places, several times, and many new places despite knowing my camera wouldn't be there (bags I hadn't used for weeks, drawers in the kitchen I hadn't opened, the bathroom I never use...etc). Nada. I was so frustrated. Partially because that was my camera, which I use a lot, and it was a gift, and it was expensive, and that's generally really annoying (sorry parents...subtle way of admiting it huh?). But mostly I was annoyed because I just could not understand how it could go missing. If my last picture had been taken in a shop, or a bathroom, I can see myself putting the camera down and walking off without it. But in the middle of a church car park? Who puts a camera down in the middle of a church car park?!

A bad and highly frustrated mood descended upon me. Outside it was even more beautiful than the day before, with a temperature of around 12C. I could see many people outside walking to the park to appreciate the fantastic weather. And here I was, stuck inside, hopelessly yet tirelessly looking for my camera.

Sod it, I thought. I'm going out.

I went upstairs to get changed, and in a last ditch attempt, I completely emptied the bag I had taken with me the previous day. A bag in which I found something. Not a camera, sadly, but instead a camera sized hole.
So thaaaat's what happened to it.

Feeling weirdly relieved, I went to the park.

There were so many people, it was unreal. And I walked along beside the river, this river that flows not only through the heart of Québec, but also through the souls of its people. Just listen to music from Québec; I assure you at some point they'll sing about the St Laurent. I greeted everyone, the many I didn't know, and the few that I did recognise.

Sun shining on my face, a light breeze in my hair, I realised something. In the end, all things go. We do not use everything forever, and there comes a time when everything is used for one last time. I've had that camera for two years; it was a birthday present from my parents. I loved its red casing. I loved its speed. I loved its size. The fact that it frequently ran out of battery, the self-timer photos were blurry whether I used flash or not, and the memory card flap often got stuck didn't bother me too much. I felt sad for the loss of my camera, but I realised you can't let these things get to you. Mourn for your lost gadget, and then keep walking.

I reached an area of the park without any people. The ground was flooded from the rapidly melting snow and made for a rather watery walk. I stopped and listened. I heard the birds in their late afternoon song. I heard the river, with the tide going out. I heard the factory...the reason that the town is even there, the job provider, money maker, paper producer. It was so uncomplicated.

I ended up walking to the Manoir du Cafe, to have a sit down and a tisane. So I sat down at my usual table, and low-and-behold, I knew one of the ladies sitting at the table next to mine. She's the mother of one of the girls in the gospel choir, and she gives me a lift to and from choir each week. She was with her sister, who, by a great coincidence, used to live in London.

An hour, a cranberry tisane and a varied conversation passed quickly. It was a pleasure to speak of my country with one who knows it. There are many flaws in my land, yet I feel such a strong connection to it and to my life there, despite being so far away. Maybe that's why I feel it so acutely; you don't know what you've got til it's (or you're) gone. I really enjoyed the conversation, and felt honoured when my new friend insisted on paying for my drink.

So there I was, exactly twenty four hours later, in the same spot in the church car park over looking the park and the river. But today, the air was clear, and I could see the river going on for miles and miles. I took a mental picture.

And it was there, where I lost my camera, that I found what I would like.
I would like to go back to Africa.

Happy Easter, everyone (:

Eleventh Fan...Fifty Posts!

All good books have one thing in common - they are truer than if they had really happened.

So here we are again, welcoming a new reader to the pack, a new friend to the midst, a new spoon to the drawer.

I stumbled across Sophia Alexandra's blog, No No Deja Vu, by accident, and discovered that we have rather a lot of things in common. I also discovered that she takes some excellently eccentric photos of herself...yes, I do occasionally wish I was made of candy. She's also the most striking person I've come across in the cyber world...which is saying something.

So a warm Happy Cup Day welcome to Sophia!

This post also happens to mark the 50th a big thank you to my spoons (:

Friday, 2 April 2010

Emily Jane Experiments: Eyelashes

Every experiment, by multitudes or by individuals, that has a sensual and selfish aim, will fail the aim 'To have eyelashes that look like grass' sensual or selfish?
No matter; either way, my experiment went very well. Thank you.

I've always had mighty difficulties with applying fake eyelashes, and had never (until the other day) successfully applied a set to my face.

The only eyelashes I have are green, with flowers on, that were sent to me by my mother this christmas. This did not discourage me in the slightest, and spent a good couple of minutes armed with a pair of tweasers, looking down into a mirror (that's the key!), brandishing grass-lashes. Then suddenly there I was, standing in my room, surprised by the fact I'd succeeded, not reaalllyy knowing what to do. Of course, there was only one thing to do.
Camera whore!

Of course, the second photo doesn't show much eyelashes wise, I just included this gratuitous belly shot because I have been working hard on said midriff.
So take that society!

Just for the record, I know I'm not hime gyaru, but...first say to yourself what you would be; and then do what you have to do.

Thanks Epictetus (:


This is it baby.

Natural, ethnic, with a gal twist?!


Check out Mitsu's Mori Gyaru article at Universal Doll