Monthly Archives: February 2011

until tomorrow

The days go on con­tin­u­ously, mea­sured in beats-per-minute. Winter’s here in all it’s bright glory, but the sun sets a lit­tle later every day, mark­ing the change of sea­sons. It’s the only way for me to keep track of the pass­ing time.

So many days are spent alone, yet I don’t feel lonely. The only prob­lem with iso­la­tion is that it lets me spend too much time with my own thoughts. This, com­bined with my intro­verted ten­den­cies (which means my stim­u­la­tion comes from mem­o­ries), makes me feel like I’m trapped in the past. I sup­pose it’s not all bad, but it cer­tainly does make it harder for me to heal.

Bronwen puts on makeup

 

I don’t know what to write. There isn’t the same strug­gle or need to vent. I find myself sit­ting and star­ing at a blank screen for hours at a time. It’s not like I feel the need to say some­thing for the sake of it. There are still thoughts and ideas that linger, things to get off my chest, but they’re either too too sim­ple to men­tion, or too com­plex to put down.

It’s strange to see this path laid out before me. I could wan­der off and explore new things, but I’m still too comfortable.

Things don’t change, but I don’t think I mind so much anymore.

returns

The only thing I bought in Britain was this tea can­dle shade of the London sky­line, found in a shop filled with baubles and knick knacks where Mike and Emma took me. They had a feel­ing it was my kind of thing. Funny to think that they knew me so well already in those three days. I love watch­ing the shad­ows dance across the shade in warm colours.

I went through an entire spec­trum of emo­tions there. Through all the won­der and excite­ment were still moments of weak­ness, gid­di­ness, sad­ness, and inse­cu­rity, because there are things you can’t escape by fly­ing to the other side of the world.

I’ve since set­tled back into my old life. The trip didn’t change me, not in any epiphanic way at least. It was more of an affir­ma­tion of myself and the way I’ve been see­ing things.

There were so many times that I was far out of my com­fort zone, thrust into inde­pen­dence, push­ing my lim­its, and that forced me to be objec­tive to keep my wits about me. In those objec­tive moments were objec­tive views of myself, where I began to under­stand that I was respon­si­ble for every­thing that was hap­pen­ing. For all the mem­o­ries and expe­ri­ences and footage and friendships.

And sud­denly, I real­ized, I like me.

One measures a circle, beginning anywhere

Been liv­ing on too much sin and not enough sleep, though mostly it’s in the form of calo­ries and sugar. Thank god I have an Asian metabolism.

Things are hap­pen­ing so quickly around me. Chris is get­ting seri­ous with his girl. Pat and Jen had their first baby, a boy named Kyden. ____’s get­ting mar­ried in April. (What? Yeah. What? Yeah.) Funny how I’m start­ing to feel like the one who’s all settled.

It makes me fan­tas­ti­cally proud to say that I’ll be assum­ing best-man respon­si­bil­i­ties, though I still asked ____ who he was going appoint cause I never feel like I can take any­thing in our friend­ship for granted. His anger at my hav­ing asked was prob­a­bly the warmest ges­ture I’ve had in a while. That means with the bach­e­lor party, the wed­ding, and another wed­ding I’ve to film, I’ll be dri­ving to Toronto three times between now and spring.

I’ve already lost ____ to an extent, as he’s only had about two months to plan his wed­ding, and he’s been busy with such. But even though our phone calls were my main form of con­tact with the out­side world, I haven’t noticed their absence, or as much as I thought I would at least. I think I’m get­ting used to being so out-of-touch with peo­ple. There’s so much ful­fill­ment one can find in a book or a movie or an instru­ment, let alone the vast­ness of the internet.

One of my ven­tures was mak­ing a trial World of Warcraft account1, just so I could try being social at a dis­tance, but I still couldn’t bother inter­act­ing with other peo­ple. And since the whole point of pay­ing a monthly fee for an MMORPG is to have that kind of inter­ac­tion, I stopped when I maxed out at level 202 on the third day. Good thing too, because it was the only thing I did for those three days.

I used to feel so guilty about being alone, think­ing I should be tak­ing advan­tage of some oppor­tu­nity to be social. Then I real­ized that if I ever got too uncom­fort­able and lonely, I’d get up and do some­thing about it. I’m too happy and too com­fort­able here right now. I think that’s why I can’t tell if this is where I’m going, or where I already am.

  1. Which I’d pre­vi­ously vowed never to play, know­ing my addic­tive nature to any character-building games, and WoWs never-ending game­play. []
  2. The max level for trial accounts. []

Larissa — Takamine F370SS

I sup­pose I should make a for­mal introduction.

My dad knew I was look­ing for a gui­tar so I could start teach­ing myself, and his co-worker’s daugh­ter hap­pened to be sell­ing hers. I decided not to buy it cause I had no idea what it was, not to men­tion the fact that I’m noto­ri­ously picky about these kinds of things. He bought me the gui­tar any­way (using my birth­day as an excuse), and I drove to Toronto to pick it up the first chance I had when I got back from Europe.

I asked Steve to do a demo of the gui­tar because his skills can really show it off.

Takamine F370SS: guitar front

Takamine F370SS solid wood acoustic dreadnought.

It turns out the gui­tar is absolutely gor­geous, with solid spruce on top and solid koa on the back and sides. And being hand­made in Japan in 1999 — the only year this model was in pro­duc­tion — makes it an instru­ment that will never be replaced. An heir­loom I’ll pass down to my chil­dren if I ever have any.

Continue read­ing “Larissa — Takamine F370SS”…

Each Coming Night (Iron & Wine cover)

I gen­er­ally don’t like straight cov­ers; the idea of play­ing some­thing exactly the same way as the orig­i­nal artist seems more like karaoke1 than any kind of musi­cally cre­ative pur­suit. But to be hon­est, I can’t hear this song any other way cause it’s already fuck­ing perfect.

On a set of D’Addaria Light Phorsphor Bronze, and with a com­plete lack of fingernails.

  1. Not that singing can’t be chal­leng­ing by itself. []