Earlier this month, I had the pleasure of filming Geneviève and Jamie on their wedding day. It was a beautiful outdoor ceremony in the country with only about 50 people, and a vegan dinner for the reception.
One of the interesting things I got to see was the sock dance, an old French-Canadian tradition where the eldest unmarried sibling has to don a pair of ugly socks (symbolizing their cold feet) and do a silly dance. People throw money at him or her, which is then collected for the newly married couple.
I decided to keep the grading natural cause there are so many vibrant colours in each scene — from tattoos, hair dye, clothes, foliage, and decorations — that I wanted to bring out for a lighthearted, playful mood. Goddammit I love grading; it’s become my favourite part of the process. You can set so many kinds of tones with colour alone.
The colours also led me to decide on using Beirut’s “Postcards from Italy” for the song, as the ukulele and horns emphasize that festive feeling wonderfully.
I also got to work with Liz, a photographer who’s as fantastic as she is considerate. So far, she’s been the only one to say to me, “Tell me if I get in your way”, before I could say it to her. Guess who I’m referring if anyone asks me for a wedding photographer recommendation.
Sometimes I study the films of videographers I admire, and I’m inspired by their style but it never feels right when I try to achieve the same for my films. They rely on editing to make their films interesting, and the films end up looking posed or unnatural. I’ve realized that I have to follow my own style — telling a story by capturing the beauty in the simplicity — because that’s what I’ve been trying to do in words and photos my whole life.
The drive to Toronto is getting easier. It’s my only chance to really listen to albums nowadays, not to mention the comfort of seeing familiar towns on the way, like the names of subway stops you can’t help but memorize as a child on the way home from school. And in a way, so many years later, Toronto still feels like home. Getting there is a journey, but the people always make it worth it.
My patience tends to wear out about a quarter way in, when it becomes hard to maintain a reasonable speed. It’s a test of whether I can drive safely to see how far I’ve grown as a person.
I fail every time.
The view from Alex’s downtown apartment. You can easily tell Yonge Street apart from how brightly it’s lit.
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on the path of least resistance, you discover:
- it is impossible to explain the appeal of dubstep to someone who’s never heard it
- everything works out in the end
- moonwalking is easier to do without pants on
- just hugs are completely different from hugs after kisses
- no one is ever too old to eat Pocky
- saying we can still be friends is like your mom telling you your dog died and saying you can still keep it
- there is never enough time
- Dolly will do anything for food
I always wonder if I’ll ever reach such a complete peace that I’d stop writing completely. One of the reasons I started this blog was to have a place where I could get things down and sort my thoughts out on a page, but I don’t need to do much of either nowadays.
I know so many people who’ve continued writing, even after finding that kind of happiness in their lives. Unfortunately, happiness has robbed them of literary inspiration, and now they have nothing interesting to say. It wouldn’t be so bad if they stopped writing, but they post for the sake of posting instead of having something to say or express or vent, and it reeks of desperation and insecurity.
I used to worry that happiness would make me a boring person too, but now I wouldn’t mind as long as I realized it and gave up this blog. It’s so embarrassing to write out of a belief that it’ll make you interesting. Or even worse, to be oblivious to the fact you’re writing about the most inane things.
Everything is balancing itself out. I’ve stopped trying to predict or control my cycles of introversion and extroversion, productivity and procrastination. As Oscar Wilde once said: “The only way to get rid of temptation is to yield to it”. By doing what I want when I feel like it, every need is met in turn.
Life doesn’t get more comfortable than this. It’s been a great summer.
Now on mashed solids. Ruby at 11 months.
I’m glad I got here by myself, without the help of a friend, or lover, or windfall. It was something I had to do on my own, so I’ll always know I’m strong enough to pick myself up and continue growing.
The only thing that’s really missing now is another cat (or two), but I already blew my kitty budget on Leonard’s vet bills. I’m not at the right place for a new adoption anyway, and I’ve decided to wait until my major projects are finished (hopefully some time around the end of the year) before I take on another life.
It’s official; Kyden has the softest, pinchiest cheeks ever at eight months.
I’ve been back from my trip for about a month and a half, but it feels more like a year. I’m so different now from the person I was before I left. I was dying then, but I’m living now.
The only way I can tell how quickly time is truly passing is in the faces of my friends’ babies. Each time I see them they’re making new sounds, saying new words, more conscious and coherent. I used to envy the carefree innocence they have when running about naked, the single-mindedness they possess when engrossed with a new toy, but now I feel like one of them.
It’s strange to feel like I’m ready for a relationship at only this point in my life. It didn’t seem right that anyone should love me if I didn’t love myself, and that didn’t really start until recently.
It also took a good round of therapy to figure out that I was sabotaging my relationships so no one could have the chance to hurt me. If I consider which ones would have worked out had that not been an issue that caused me to break up with my girlfriends in order to protect myself, I can only think of one. But that was a long time ago, and while we may have worked then, it’s no guarantee for the people we’ve become, as I’m sure there’s been a lot of growth on both our ends. It’s only now that I feel like my personal evolution has reached a peak, a place where I’m satisfied with who I am, and there won’t likely be any more drastic changes that may affect the dynamics of a relationship.
I’ve been able to recognize that the risk of getting hurt is inseparable from the trust we place in the people we love, and that risk is always worth it. I’ve left behind my baggage, something no one else should have to deal with, and I’ve had enough experience to know exactly what I’m looking for in a relationship and what kind of people work with me.
Took me 30 years to figure it all out, but everybody’s gotta learn sometime.
Don’t have much to say lately. Sometimes I get stuck at the title.
I’ve been holding off on starting various classes cause I’m not quite into my regular pace of life. I’m still riding the crests of over-stimulation from my trip, not yet ready to be routinely seeing people. Consequently, this means I lose sense of time, weekly classes once being my anchor points for certain days of the week.
I always look forward to grey and dreary days, when it’s the perfect excuse to stay inside and just tinker on the guitar.
I never feel lonely anymore. I’m too comfy in the house, too occupied with this sense of hedonism, too busy pouring myself into my projects, too spoiled by life I’m living, too blessed by the cards I was dealt. Sometimes I end up parking my car at a strange angle one could never hope to replicate, and I’m sure this is how my neighbours can tell I haven’t been out in more than a week.
The Hintonburger: a six ounce handmade local beef patty with bacon, cheese, signature barbeque sauce, and fuck yeah.
All I ever wanted was a little bit of peace. Now that I’ve found it, I’ve stopped thinking about the future. Right now is good enough.