don't let the past remind us of what we are not now

It’s been another crazy week. Between the appoint­ments and the hang­outs, I haven’t had a night to myself.

One thing I wish I had more time to appre­ci­ate is the weather. The most recent bliz­zard draped the city in snow wet and heavy, and all I want to do now is go out and shoot with a nice piece of glass that goes wider than f/2.8. I keep promis­ing myself I’ll do it next snow­fall, but life always seems to get in the way.

baby playing peekaboo

 

The over­stim­u­la­tion has left me with my guard down, and I’m stuck in my mem­o­ries again. Left remem­ber­ing old con­ver­sa­tions, nights lost to the senses, and my regret at not men­tion­ing how much I liked those nails done up in white and nude.

It’s not my fault. Honest. I get pulled into it in the most inno­cent ways. That song will come over the tinny speak­ers in the pro­duce depart­ment when I’m pick­ing out toma­toes. Or I’ll be on the 12 home, going through ran­dom songs in my col­lec­tion to try out my new mon­i­tors, when I catch some­one shar­ing what I always saved for us.

I’m start­ing to under­stand how help­less I am to change the past, but at the very least, I can change myself. And that’s often good enough nowadays.

wrapped in chords

Context. It’s 19°C in the house. I keep an elec­tric heat­ing pad under my hoodie, the gui­tar is slung around my body, and my head­phones are con­nected to the com­puter. I’m wrapped in chords, with a win­ter scene per­pet­u­ally out­side my window.

I know this won’t last for­ever, so I’m indulging in these lit­tle rit­u­als. Trying to enjoy all the lit­tle things I started tak­ing for granted, like car rides at night when the roads are clear and the car is warm. I’ve lost myself in the shuf­fle. I know I need to recen­tre myself, but I’m wait­ing for things to set­tle down first.

There’s so much I don’t say to my friends. Not because I don’t trust them, but because my news never feels impor­tant enough to bring up. It’s stuff they stopped talk­ing about years ago, cause they’ve moved on from this part of their lives. Well I’m still here, hop­ing everything’s going to work out in the end.

Magic: The Gathering prize

Martial Coup: Put X 1/1 white Soldier crea­ture tokens onto the bat­tle­field. If X is 5 or more, destroy all other crea­tures, and win a box, a booster, a pack of nice lands.

I real­ized that I don’t spend that much time with my core group any­more, but I do hang out with a revolv­ing group of friends. It seems like there’s always another per­son to catch up with, another meal to share, another night of gam­ing with the guys. It’s keep­ing me occu­pied, for which I’m thank­ful lately.

Otherwise, I’ve been think­ing a lit­tle bit about the past and a lot about the future. Trying to pic­ture where I’m going to end up, but it’s never some­thing I can fig­ure out.

this is interlude

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I wasn’t ready for the snow. I pic­tured myself at home with noth­ing bet­ter to do than sleep in as it was falling, but instead I’m too busy to enjoy it. Now there’s noth­ing left of the snow that has fallen, cause fate seems to be con­spir­ing with the weather to make this Christmas any­thing but white.

Unfortunately, this is when I need to be buried under snow. I’m con­vinced the win­ter will wash every­thing away, and I’ll emerge clean again.

boy plays with man

 

I don’t know what to do with myself lately. Ever since Will was born, catch-up time with John has been a call he gives me every now and then between meth­ods of pub­lic trans­porta­tion as he makes his way home from work. I just want to talk to some­one and have their undi­vided atten­tion, cause it’s the old habits I miss the most, the late nights when you’d rather stay in someone’s com­pany than sleep. But the only peo­ple who under­stand are also the peo­ple with their own lives, and too often I’m left to my own devices.

As a result, I’ve been feel­ing vul­ner­a­ble. I hold myself back from reach­ing out to the wrong arms, the ones who touch my face and drag their nails across my skin, the ones with famil­iar smells and com­fort­ing weak­nesses, the ones who appre­ci­ate the things I want to be appre­ci­ated for, but none of whom can give me what I need.

pictionary

Dennis’s socks.

I’m sure I’d feel as lonely as ever if I wasn’t so over-stimulated and ready to be by myself for a while. This prob­a­bly won’t hap­pen until some point dur­ing the hol­i­days, and even then, I had plans on catch­ing up on per­sonal projects and chores I can only bring myself to do once a year1. Maybe this is adults mean when talk about how time passes more quickly when you’re older.

I’m in between places now, unsure of where I am or where I’m headed. But at the very least, I know what I’ve been through and what’s behind me.

  1. i.e. Cleaning the floor­boards and walls of the house. []

some day i'm gonna find it out

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Over-stimulation is a sling­shot moved by the force of com­pany for the sake of self-distraction.

cat in window

 

And yet I’ve never felt so alone. The nights are filled with absence, which I try to mol­lify with indul­gence. It’s okay for now cause I know I’ll be okay some day, when it’ll be safe to be alone with my thoughts again.

chapters

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I’m writ­ing this over break­fast — a sim­ple flax bagel with cream cheese and hon­eyed tea — some­thing I haven’t done since back in the day. How weird is it that I don’t write any­more. At this point, I can’t tell if it’s a shift in inter­ests, or just a lack of need.

I lose track of the days cause I don’t sleep reg­u­lar hours. Or talk to John. Or play games. I can’t under­stand where the time is going. I won­der if life will ever slow down again, or if this is it, this is the rea­son old peo­ple whine about how quickly the years have passed and how some small food item used to cost some small amount.

man holding baby

This is how I want to be woken up every day.

I haven’t had a chance to recharge my bat­ter­ies in as long as I can remem­ber. The Christmas hol­i­days will be nice, when I’ll actu­ally be tak­ing the time off to her­mi­tize and relax, when I won’t have another video to edit, sub­ject to write, song to learn, or friend to visit. I may even treat myself to Portal 2.

boy playing with Lego

 

The Fall has started like no other. The air is clear and the sun is out, but it’s start­ing to get nippy at night. Every morn­ing I wake up with the pave­ment dark from the dew, and soon I’ll be scrap­ing ice off the car, instead of wip­ing the con­den­sa­tion from the windows.

It’s still not cool enough to leave the win­dows open all day, but the antic­i­pa­tion is enough. There’s some­thing com­fort­ing about a pre­dictable cycle, know­ing that snow will fall and melt, that things will die and grow.

mother holding baby

 

I can finally see the grand scheme, the chap­ters in the book we’re con­stantly writ­ing, where an end­ing means a begin­ning is on the next page.

In a way, it feels like I’m finally here, except I don’t know where here is, I just know it’s exactly where I want to be.

warm divinity

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Music sounds so good. It’s like every­thing has a beat I can dance to.

Sometimes I start writ­ing an entry based on notes from a few weeks ago, but I end up dis­card­ing most of them cause I don’t feel the same way any­more. It’s like I’m con­stantly shed­ding skin in the words I delete.

I tend not to over-think things now. My deci­sions are based on what I want at any spe­cific moment, instead on the future, or the con­se­quences, or what may hap­pen as a result. This regres­sion has been one of the most impor­tant (and dif­fi­cult) things I’ve learned to do. It feels like I’ve been going in the wrong direc­tion for 30 years, but at least I was able to fig­ure that out before much longer. Now I under­stand Picasso when he said, “It took me four years to paint like Raphael, but a life­time to paint like a child.”

Pat grilling

Pat on his new grill. He’s still fig­ur­ing out the hot spots.

I don’t even prac­tice gui­tar any­more, but I’ll put on a song I’m addicted to and pre­tend I’m play­ing with my favourite singers for hours. It’s not help­ing me improve (which is usu­ally what I enjoy), but by god is it fun.

The weeks lead­ing up to my trip were full-tilt cause I couldn’t stand being by myself. It was never that bad before. I even bought an iPad app that lets me watch ran­dom web­cams from around the world, just so I could have some­thing hap­pen­ing live next to me, even if it was two-thirty in the morn­ing. Usually it was a buf­falo chips restau­rant in Florida with mus­tard table­cloths, a beach resort by the sea in Italy, or an over­head cam of a sushi chef in Tokyo1.

Nowadays, I don’t mind the soli­tude or the com­pany. I’m feel­ing unwound and have set­tled into old habits; not get­ting enough sleep, eat­ing at the wrong times, never going out. The main dif­fer­ence is that I get so much less of John nowa­days, which means I feel so much more alone, but I’m strong enough to be okay with that now.

The days are bright. Like a boy, I find it hard to con­cen­trate on work when the sun fills the house with warm light.

  1. This is how I learn that sushi chefs puree wasabi using only a chef’s knife and a great deal of patience. []

between the river and the ravens I'm fed

Consider the ravens. They do not sow or reap, they have no store­room or barn; yet God feeds them.

—Luke 12:24

It’s start­ing to get uncom­fort­ably busy. There’s always some­one else to visit, another per­son to catch up with. Projects have a way of find­ing me too; I’ll hear a song and decide that I need to make an arrange­ment, or some­one will approach me for a web­site or video when they’re pur­su­ing dreams of their own.

dinner at the Trolley's

Me and Trolley and Steph and Aaron and not you. I win.

(I have yet to get a pic­ture of Trolley with a full glass of beer.)

It’s the same way when it comes to fig­ur­ing out what to eat lately. I open an empty fridge a half dozen times, each time think­ing I’ll find a hid­den cache of food that wasn’t there before, then some­one will call me for dinner.

I’ve been for­tu­nate enough to jam with a few peo­ple too, includ­ing Heather, who pulled out her cello for the first time in her adult­hood to give me root notes on the base­line. One draw of the bow across those strings has con­vinced me that I want one of my own; the tones are rich and meaty, some­thing you feel through the entire instru­ment, and espe­cially the ten­sion of the rib­bon (and I thought the gui­tar was tac­tile). We even con­vinced Sergey to pick up some mal­lets and strike the keys of a glock­en­spiel with us, the first time in his life he’s ever played an instrument.

I’m look­ing for­ward to the Fall, when I have noth­ing else booked. Part of me wishes I could take a year off and lock myself in a cot­tage some­where and work on my own projects with­out inter­rup­tion, but I don’t mind so much right now. Luckily, the work is always ful­fill­ing, regard­less of whether it’s for me or not, because so often I get to col­lab­o­rate with such won­der­fully cre­ative peo­ple. I just need to ride the del­i­cate line between dis­trac­tion and over-stimulation.

was I more alive then than I am now

I try to sched­ule my time with peo­ple very care­fully; with intro­ver­sion, there’s a del­i­cate bal­ance between iso­la­tion and over-stimulation. I always make sure I get a lot of alone time between major events. The only prob­lem is that means I’m alone for too long when plans don’t work out.

On the other end of the spec­trum is the fact that I can never say no to peo­ple if I’m too busy. I’m the one with­out kids, so my sched­ule is a lot more open than most my friends, and I never know when I’ll have another chance to see them. This is prob­a­bly why I’ve been film­ing for four days straight.

Luckily, this included a won­der­ful per­for­mance by the inim­itable André Bluteau, whose debut CD is out now, and which you should most def­i­nitely pur­chase after lis­ten­ing and sub­se­quently loving.

I added a touch of grad­ing to give the video a bit of creamy 1950s American diner feel. I’m thor­oughly impressed by Apple’s Motion soft­ware, and the power it has to cre­ate object-tracking text effects. Text can add such a nicely sub­tle cin­e­matic touch, though doing 3D trans­for­ma­tions to make words match the plane of a fore­ground object is an exer­cise that will make your eyes bug out.

Andrew Vincent live @ Raw Sugar Cafe

The only thing pre­vent­ing me from mak­ing out with this man was his green hat. Don’t, don’t, don’t cover it up.

Also head­lin­ing was Andrew Vincent, who opened his set with Girlfriend’s Dog, a song I first gave to Bronwen when we started dat­ing. It was right before she moved in for the sum­mer, and she had Bear, who was also a Labrador Retriever.

Now I under­stand why I need to much time in between events. After the con­cert, I didn’t fall asleep until three in the morn­ing, even though I was exhausted. The strug­gle not be shy and intro­verted drains me, but the sim­ple act of being around so many peo­ple leaves me inor­di­nately ener­gized. It’s too much some­times, but I never know what to think of that feeling.

gotta go on

This is my cur­rent anthem. T-Dot represent.

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Sometimes I won­der if I only love Toronto because of the peo­ple. There are always things to do and friends to visit, and it feels like my home­town. I hate the dri­ving, I hate all the cops down­town, I hate the fact that it takes me at least half an hour to get any­where, but I always look for­ward to going back.

baby sun conure

Baby sun conure. This lit­tle guy was just start­ing to grow feath­ers, and kept in an incubator.

The iso­la­tion was nice, but it got to the point where John would say he was proud of me just for hav­ing lunch with some­one. Now I find myself going out more and more and it’s a refresh­ing change of pace. Not that I felt like I was uncom­fort­able being home alone; more like the urge to be out over­took me, even if that meant I was still alone among others.

I won­der if my her­mitage was just an extended stretch of time I needed to recharge after my trip to Europe. Or maybe it was know­ing that the next stretch of time until the sum­mer was going to be busy.

This time it doesn’t feel like a tran­si­tion period, because I know it won’t last. I’ll even­tu­ally go back to extended time alone, and I’ll for­ever be in the flux of socia­bil­ity and soli­tude, win­ter and sum­mer. The only thing that’s con­stant is hap­pi­ness. Sure, there are flashes of mis­for­tune, but they’re fleet­ing, con­tained, and just a part of day-to-day life, noth­ing out of the ordi­nary. Maybe this is why I’ve been find­ing it hard to write. I’ve always been fueled by suf­fer­ing in some way or another, but all that’s left now is this contentment.

August ending

August passed me by.

My Tai Chi stu­dio closed at the begin­ning of the month due to the new provin­cial tax pol­icy. I was going to look for another stu­dio, but I haven’t had a chance. Instead, I took up singing lessons. It didn’t help that Starcraft 2 came out, and the fact that most of my friends pur­chased it too so there’s always at least one per­son online and ready to play with me.

greeting Audra

 

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Autopilot

Cohen and MacBook Pro

I’m cur­rently on autopi­lot. Doing with­out think­ing, and just being.

It’s a strange feel­ing because I’ve been try­ing to get to this level where I’m no longer con­scious of try­ing to be at this level1. It’s a recur­sive night­mare. But now that I’ve been here for a few days, I’m not sure if I like it. I can’t tell if it’s because I’m not used to it, because I feel like I’m miss­ing some­thing, or because I feel way too overstimulated.

I tried to sched­ule a day of rest, aka me time, aka her­mi­tiz­ing in my house, in between every event, but that didn’t work out. I won’t have a sin­gle day to myself until the 3rd of January. I was hop­ing for a hol­i­day where I could sit and do noth­ing for two days in a row, just so it’d be like a long week­end at least. I’ve been try­ing to cel­e­brate because I fin­ished my con­tracts early, but I sup­pose these last few days have been enough of a treat, even if it’s left me with­out any time to with­draw and reflect.

One day I woke up at Darren’s house, went down­stairs, turned on the TV, and Serendipity had just started. I remem­ber watch­ing this generic hol­i­day dri­vel set in a New York Christmas at Vicky’s house back when I was in uni­ver­sity. It was def­i­nitely Christmas back then cause I was back home in Toronto, before my par­ents divorced, and we went to house par­ties as a fam­ily. It was it’s own lit­tle serendip­i­tous sign, remind­ing me the hol­i­days were here, and I should take it all in for a second.

  1. Croupier, star­ring Clive Owen, is com­pletely based on this idea. Go see it. []

Working Hard and Playing Hard

Miric

Thumbnail: Barbecue
Thumbnail: Documentary night
Thumbnail: Karen and kids
Thumbnail: Strawberries and scones
Thumbnail: Stuffed animals

It’s been busy. Side work is going well, and I try to do as much as I can on week­nights so I can have my week­ends free.

It’s made for a rather hec­tic sched­ule, which is a wel­come dis­trac­tion at the moment. I feel great for being pro­duc­tive, and great for being able to relax. Time is fly­ing. I can’t believe it’s past the mid­dle of September already.

I use to bring my cam­eras with me every­where, but now I find I’m tak­ing fewer pic­tures. I want to be less of an observer/documentalist and more of a par­tic­i­pa­tor lately. I don’t want to miss out on liv­ing from wor­ry­ing if I’m cap­tur­ing every­thing as best as possible.

Things iPhone app

One of the things that’s helped me main­tain my pro­duc­tiv­ity is Things for my iPhone, which gives lit­tle alert badges on the things that are due. It’s a great moti­va­tor when you want to clear the alerts from your home screen.

this ambition made me tough

Dirty pool

If it hasn’t been painfully obvi­ous already, I’ve been busy. Even though it’s only been four days since my last entry, I think that’s the longest I’ve ever gone with­out writ­ing since my month-long hia­tus back in 2006. There are so many thoughts I have been putting in the back of my head to write down, so many pho­tos I have yet to work on and post.

kitty 1

The big project is the house show on Saturday. This week I’m get­ting things ready: clean­ing; buy­ing ice, ice cream, and top­pings for the ice cream bar, cups, spoons; mov­ing fur­ni­ture; cre­at­ing playlists for the lounge time before the show; orga­niz­ing food and sleep­ing arrange­ments for the artists; and prepar­ing to cap­ture the whole ideal in pic­ture and video.

Pho with Aaron and Trolley

I think I’ll be able to breathe again some time in mid August. Until then, I’m work­ing away hap­pily, and learn­ing to pri­or­i­tize instead of doing what I feel like.

Kitty 2

But even then, I don’t think I’ll want to stop. I’m quite enjoy­ing these projects, or, should I say, fin­ish­ing them because it means I’m pro­duc­tive, and there doesn’t seem to be any­thing more sat­is­fy­ing at the moment. I haven’t sat down and lost myself in a game in a while, which is strange for me. And even stranger that I’m not jonesing, as it used to be my favourite pas­time, and the only one that would relax me. Most of my relax­ation time now comes in lit­tle doses of quick iPhone games.

Window shopping

I like being busy.

But we’ll see how long that lasts.

Amnesiac Epiphanies

It seems like every week­end I make plans, because I think “I haven’t seen this per­son in a while and I don’t know when I’ll have a chance to hang out with them again.” But it doesn’t seem to stop, because there’s always another per­son to see, another thing to do, and by the time I’ve caught up with the last friend, it’s been months since I saw the first friend again.

This is the first week­end that I’ve had free. I just played Black and White 2 for five hours, and it feels good, con­sid­er­ing that I haven’t really played a game in a while, let alone be able to lose myself in one. It’s like I don’t get a chance to relax for more than 45 min­utes at a time before I’m off doing some­thing else.

A lot of my older co-workers tell me they don’t even have time to relax on the week­ends. It’s one of those things that comes with hav­ing kids, hav­ing a house, hav­ing a full-time job. Is this what being an adult is about? Not that I mind; for a while now, I’ve wanted to be this busy so I could for­get about things, to move on.

And then, I real­ized that I have.

Busyness Never Ends

What began as an attempt to move my router and modem from their pre­car­i­ous posi­tions on top of my (top-opening) deep freezer, turned into a com­plete reor­ga­niz­ing of all the closet space on the bed­room level of my house over the week­end. This means I had to pull every­thing out to see what I was deal­ing with, decide how to sort it all, and buy shelv­ing units and stor­age bins to store them.

It was a race to get every­thing packed away (or thrown out) and off the floors of the bed­rooms and hall­ways before the week­end was over so I wouldn’t have to sleep sur­rounded by the mess. I dis­turbed many a spider’s home this week­end, and in doing so, had to kill the spi­ders as well.

But it didn’t stop there, oh no. At 10:30 last night, with my bed­time closely approach­ing — and my eyes dry­ing out from the exhaus­tion — I got my iron­ing done, and my lat­est batch of music added to my iPod.

It seems like it’s another week­end gone, chip­ping my nails, dam­ag­ing my fin­gers. Non-stop, save a phone call with John.

The last few week­ends was lit­er­ally spent in bed with my muse, so I guess I was just mak­ing up for pro­duc­tive time that I haven’t had in a while.

Bronwen and I agreed to try to see each other at least once a month. Which doesn’t seem like a lot at only 12 times a year, but I think of the last time I saw Pat or Aaron, and it was on New Years.

I’m also try­ing to make doc­u­men­tary nights and Sunday brunches a reg­u­lar thing. The fre­quency of reg­u­lar remains to be seen.

It seems like even my relax­ing time needs to be planned and sched­uled. I’m tak­ing a break from God of War 2 to play Black and White 2, which I never fin­ished. My next book­ing with Dan is over a month from now, but I just received noti­fi­ca­tion that it has to moved back to accom­mo­date for other venture.

I’m still going with projects, start­ing new ones before the old ones are fin­ished. I’ve decided that I can’t stop the cre­ative process, and that forc­ing myself to stick with one until com­ple­tion makes it a chore. I like to have my fin­gers in sev­eral pies at once, so that I can take a break from one but still be pro­duc­tive by mov­ing to another.

It seems like the busy­ness never ends. Is this what being an adult is like?