Sunday, December 25, 2011

Please, please, pity my knees

I suppose I could take this opportunity to do some kinda post-semester recap. I want to save that for later (assuming I actually get around to it), but suffice it to say... It was a crappy semester. Maybe a more general year-end post would be the better way to tackle this. Right now, as the last few precious drops of Christmas evening are evaporating, I want to talk about how this was quite possibly, the worst Christmas I can remember.

It's the worst Christmas by the numbers, that is. Not many presents, barely any money. Fewest amount of family at home. Least amount of time spent together. A complete lack of energy and enthusiasm. 'Christmas cheer', it seems, has been a rather elusive beast this year. No one, no one, in my family was feeling it this year.

But you see, it still turned out to be a pretty good time. We all knew it was shaping up to be a crappy Christmas, and that no one really had any drive to do anything about it. So we... Took it easy. Sure, from a more traditional standpoint, everything was rather pathetic. But being there, it turned out alright. Not fantastic, but it was still a good time, for sure. We hung out, and shared low expectations. Not so much celebrating Christmas as trying to enjoy what little, brain-dead and disjointed time we had together. We all felt kinda bland, but we felt bland together. And that made it alright.

Point in case? When I arrived earlier in the week, neither my brother or I had figured out anything for Christmas gifts. So we went shopping. Bought some bulk candy, which we picked at for a bit before dividing up. Then we went to various stores and malls for several hours. Eventually we ended up in a department store where, being the shining examples of mature, responsible adults that we are, we bought every member of our family Nerf guns. It was stupid, but it was perfect. We all spent 10 minutes laughing like idiots this morning, after we unpacked, loaded, and took potshots at eachother. And we continued to chuckle like idiots while we hunted around the house for many of the spent projectiles that will probably stay hidden under various furniture for months to come.

So it turned out okay, I think, because of the mutual lack of enthusiasm. We shared it together, and that's what made the whole thing bearable.

Unknown Resident

I'm having a rough time disengaging from the semester. There was so much work that I had to get done, and to just flick that switch off... It's pretty jarring. And I have things to do over the break, for sure, but I find myself finding more things to do, because I feel the overwhelming urge to compensate for the lack of homwork. I feel bad for spending so much time being unproductive. I guess that depends on how you want to define word, though. It's unproductive from the school definition - crossing things off lists, seeing tangible results, accomplishing tasks, logging hours. But perhaps being unproductive in that vein is productive in another way - maintaining... Me.

I can't measure how much I've improved with playing an instrument over the past few days (and if I could, I'm sure it'd be depressingly low), but I know that I've gotten something else out of it. I've sat there and played for what feels like minutes (nothing good, mind you), and it feels great. Well, great with a fine coat of guilt on top of it. "You should be getting x or y or z done...". I've also been sketching more than once a day. In years past it has felt like a bit of a chore, but less so this time around. Sometimes inspiration or capability doesn't come, but overall it feels less like I'm banging my head against a wall.

This might all be the result of how long I've been trying to keep myself folded up into the box of homework. Now that I do have the time to let it out, it flows easily. But it flows with chunks of guilt bobbing in the waves. Should be doing stuff. Should be working. Should be, should be, should be... And I have been getting some stuff done. Small things, but things all the same. But it's never enough, is it? Bleh. Bleh, I say.
-Cril

Whoa there Santa you gave me a scare
Now stop teasin' 'cause I know you're there
We don't believe in no goblins today
But I can't explain why I'm shakin' this way

Louis Armstrong - 'Zat You, Santa Claus

Sunday, December 18, 2011

Holes

Ah, the end of the semester. I'm on my last project, it's due tomorrow. I'm actually on the easy part - I just need to plug in some content. But as these things tend to do, I'm rapidly losing steam. The hardest, easiest hurdle can be the highest and hardest one to have the motivation to tackle. But I'm probably going to be in good shape. This'll be another long night, sure. But it'll get done.

Over the last year or so, as I've gotten to know my classmates in the program, I've noticed a trend when it comes to the end of the semester. I get a lot of resentment. A lot of people tend to scoff and say what good shape I'm in. One person bugged me about 'I bet you've actually slept over the last two days haven't you? And eaten three meals a day, probably.' As if I magically have the capability to plow through my assignments in record time with no effort. I kinda take offense to it, in some way. I could list all the things I do that allows me to be in such 'good' shape to them, comparitively. But it isn't a contest. It just feels like I get put on some alternate plane where I automatically don't have to try. I'm some mindless, production robot. Nope, not an ounce of strain or stress on my part. Not at all. What right do I have to complain when my projects aren't going to plan or I'm not feeling confident about it? Bleh. Ramblerambleramble.

It's now been about a week and a half since I last drove my car. There's a hole in my heart where that belongs. There's nothing else to say here that I haven't mentioned in some of the MANY other posts where I talk about my car problems. It's a thing. A stupid thing. It shouldn't matter. But it does, and not getting to drive my car is really eating away at me. Bleh.

Last week, shortly after my car b0rked on me, I had a project I needed to travel across the city to do. Graciously, my uncle and aunt lent me their spare car so that I could go do it. I'm so lucky to have great people on hand that care for me. But I digress. The car didn't have an auxillary plugin for the stereo. So after a few minutes of getting frustrated with trying to listen to radio, I gave up and went the rest of the way in silence. Then when I arrived, I wasn't in a setting where I could listen to my iPod. So I did the project for a couple hours, packed up, and traveled back in silence. I wish I could say something about how profound it was to listen to the world for a change instead of earbuds, but it wasn't. I went that entire morning without my music, and man did it leave a void. Every morning, every morning I commute with music. It was such an alarming break to the routine. I'm not even sure if 'routine' is the right word - it makes it sound so plain and mundane. It made the rest of the day feel unusually surreal, actually.

Anyways. My eyes grow blurry. I need to get this last project done.
-Cril

Moby - Slow Light

Sunday, December 11, 2011

Week of Hell, Pt 3

It's Sunday? Ugh. It's Sunday. I have so very little sense of time right now. I'm just impressed that I've been running all day on 5hrs of broken sleep and a small bag of pierogies.

I'd just like to say that there's something to be said for a positive outlook on life. But right now, at this moment, screw that. Life right now sucks. Like, a lot.

Dear universe, is there anything else you'd like to throw at me? Maybe lose my laptop? Have my broken car spontaneously combust and burn to the ground? Might I suggest putting another one of my relatives in the hospital? Oh, I know. A massive hard drive failure would probably do it.

I'm a week from being done the semester, assuming I last that long. If I don't fall down dead within the next five days, I'm assuming that I will be crushed by a random piano falling from the sky.

I'm sure I'll survive, and everything will be okay. I'm not sure what will be anything left of me that's worth while, but there will at least be some charred remains. Life sure feels like hell right now. Too many things have gone awry over the last week, and my brain is broken in too many ways. Some perspective would probably do me good. I am not a beautiful or unique snowflake. I just need to suck it up and get my work done.

The homework. She beckons. (Back) into the breach.
-Cril

Celldweller - Ursa Minor (Electron Mix)

Wednesday, December 07, 2011

Sweet Desperation

There's something beautiful in the desperation of a 1AM car repair. The way that that a ratchet echoes off a street full of sleeping houses. How the hand fumbles through a maze of machinery to see what the amber street lights decline to illuminate. Trying to peer through foggy breath at that contorted collection of wires as the fingers, crisp with freezing winter air, strain to ensure that a screw won't fall and sink to the bottom of night's abyss. The effort to try what can be done, the precious little that can be done, in hopes that it'll make that magic difference. The way that this last valiant effort to redeem the day by accomplishing something of use is rejected by the fates. How that familiar 'clack' of the lock fortifies a car, as if it would prevent a would-be thief from eloping with a machine that refuses to start in the first place. Numb digits grasping up belongings from the curb and groping for the house key. A trudge up the path, through the front door, and into Tomorrow.
-Cril

Tangerine Dream - Tomorrow Never Knows

Tuesday, December 06, 2011

Letters

There's something in the way
the rhythm of a missing string moves
Notes and notes picked in grey
sighing sweet reverberation


Awake, awake, awake
by definition, at least
Churning and turning and trampling
across fields folding in on themselves


Commuting on the Bus of the Defeated
to a feeling of far away


A constriction of sorts
and some frustration of certainty
in the uncertain


-----
...well, that was wonderfully angst-y and depressing. I have no idea what any of this is/was, and I'm not sure if each 'verse' meant to be all be together or not. Just kinda thoughts and half thoughts that've been swirling around my cranium over the last lil' while. I ain't no poet or prosesmith, so take this refuse for what it is.
-Cril

And I,
I called through the air that night

A calm sea voiced with a lie
I could only smile,
I've been alone some time

And all, and all,
It's been fine


And you,
You had hope for me now

I danced all around it somehow
Be fair to me,
I may drift a while

Were it up to me,
You know I'd


Beirut - Port of Call

Sunday, December 04, 2011

Gotta Get Through

Mistake #1: Going to bed at 3AM last night.
Mistake #2: Getting up at 7:30AM, going for a walk, shoveling snow, getting groceries, doing some homework
Mistake #3: Having a nap from 11:20AM-12:45PM
Mistake #4: Going into the office to work from 7:00PM to 8:45PM

My internal clock is so thoroughly buggered right now. Feels like the entire day's been a hazy dream. I can't think, so I'm going lay down my bones to rest for the night. I should do homework for two or three more hours, but I just don't know how to. This is going to be a long week. I'm just tired. So tired.
-Cril

There's no escaping now
Let me show you how
What it feels to be true

There's no escaping now
Let me show you how
What it feels to be true

I've been workin' baby
For too long now
I've been searchin' baby
A way to tell you how

Chemical Brothers - The State We're In

Electrified in Blue

Bleh, don't know what to say here. I'm feelin' tired and have far too much work to do. As the end-of-semester crunch tends to go, I keep flipping between paralyzed with stress to feeling like I might just come out on the other side with all of my limbs attached.

I need to do a personal website, an advertisement for work, two series of three advertisements for advertising (go figure), design an exhibition, and prepare, execute, and document an installation piece. Then there's some personal stuff, some other work stuff, some social stuff, and other stuff I need to get sorted. Bleh.

There's so much to write, and so little time to do it in.

...

Unfortunately, at the moment, it appears that I'm stuck in freaked-right-out mode, and I can't stop thinking about what I need to get done. I wish I had all the the time in the world and sit here and type away. So, for the time being and until next week, know that I am, in fact, alive and breathing.

Somewhat.
-Cril

Outside the colored lights they bleed
For snow is white and colors need
As it just comes down like pure salvation

Trans-Siberian Orchestra - Christmas Nights in Blue

Sunday, November 27, 2011

Fresh off a bus to Six Years Later

It was six years ago today that I stepped off a bus, into a different province and a new job. It was like some sort of lame montage from that predictable, dime-a-dozen chick flick/drama that you'd never watch twice. Never the less, I jumped into my first full time employment, doing manual labour and other such menial tasks that you get minimum wage to do. The first day was a blur, like a hazy dream. All I can recall is that I sat there making springs all day long, because that's what someone told me to start doing, and I was so clueless about everything that I just kept on going.

And I kept working, blinked, and it was six years later. Somewhere along the way, I moved up in the world of sweeping floors and from taking things out of boxes and putting them in other boxes. I went from dabbling with the odd graphic design task to doing it as a primary position. At one point I made a few minor corrections on the website, and before I knew it, I was the go-to-guy for managing most of the online content. Instead of chipping in the odd idea for advertising, I seem to be heading up most marketing efforts, including evaluating donations and sponsorships. Now I'm a laser engraver technician of sorts, the content-writer most news posts, coder for newsletters, a non-coding developer for a new website, and... Other things, too. A far cry from winding springs all day. And through some truly bizarre twist of fate, I've found myself as the most senior employee.

And I think that's what really bothers me. Because I secretly have no idea what I'm doing. Well, I've dabbled in probably 70% of all areas within the company, so aside from The Bosses, I guess I technically should be capable, to some degree. And I won't lie, having people come to you with semi-significant questions or being asked for an opinion on something that's not directly under your control feels good. Really good. I like the idea that I have something valuable to contribute. But I'm not sure how much if it I deserve

This kind of became obvious this summer, though, when said The Bosses went on some summer vacation, and I was left as The Guy In Charge. Truth be told, the staff is wonderfully independent and capable, and I barely did anything managerial-like. But in those few cases where I had to jump in, what I did do didn't pan out so well. Not so say I burned down the building or made any big disasters, but some mistakes were made. I'm not sure how much of a success those two weeks as acting Big Cheese were, but it sure was a learning experience.

When I look around at my co-workers, I see a lot of talent and intelligence. Sure, I have more experience in a bunch of different categories, but I don't think I'm really the master of any of them. So I guess like any decent leadership, it's about trusting those that you're working with. It's just kind of tough to reconcile that I'm the one with most seniority, which (in theory) equals most capability.

It's also worth noting that while it was six years ago that I started working here, about only about 2/3 of that has been spent at full time. When I work part time during the school year, I miss out on a LOT. And that really drives me nuts, to walk in and do your important tasks, all the while having very little feel for what else is going on. There's more to it than a quick 15min meeting to see where everything is at - a big part of it is being able to feel and perceive the mood of the people around you. And that's something that's really hard to pick up on when you're working very limited hours.

So when it came time to choose my days off for Christmas, it didn't quite feel right to be told that I had first pick. By years of seniority and total logged hours, yeah, maybe there's some truth there. But I feel kinda bad taking that privilege when there are people around me that work just as hard as I do and have put in more hours over the last year.

There was a joke made last week, albeit a rather inappropriate one, where my boss mused that if I were to drop out of school, I could return to full time work and give the boot to the person that had been hired to take over most of my design and content management duties. Aside from the questionable act of joking about someone losing their job... I really don't like the idea that I'd get treatment like that above someone else. It just doesn't sit well with me. Don't get me wrong, I'm glad that I'm appreciated and they find I'm valuable enough that they want me back full time. It means a lot. But I don't like the idea that it may or may not come at one of my coworker's expense. Whether it be with wages, making decisions, performing roles or tasks, choosing holidays, or the job position itself... If it's interfering with someone else, it just doesn't feel right.

Maybe I still see myself as that doofus that stepped off a bus six years ago, with nothing more than a fistful of summer and temporary jobs under his belt. Seniority? What's that? Yeah, maybe I'll get some of this 'seniority stuff' one day when I'm a grown, serious adult that's been a part of the working world for a million years. The fact that I usually work part-time doesn't really help, convincing me that the time I do put in doesn't actually count.

I don't know. I feel like I'm rambling on about nothing, as I tend to do. I guess this whole seniority thing just feels foreign.

But yeah. Here's to six years.
-Cril

Celldweller - Through the Gates

Saturday, November 19, 2011

And the Insult of the Year goes to...

So.

It's not often I get so thoroughly chewed out, especially by someone I'm close to. But that's where I found myself yesterday evening. I was sitting at my laptop, alone in the studio at the end of the day, when it happened and I was left wondering where the pit of my stomach had fallen to. Said chewing-out occurred over chat no less (which must truly be a sign of the times we live in). But let's rewind a moment, shall we?

The other night I was having a late-night discussion with a friend about some pretty personal kinda stuff, when it came time for me to spill out an opinion. Now, I'm going to say up front that everything I said had merit. The ideas were relevant and important. The way in which they were delivered, however, was not. In an impressive (and, quite frankly, rather disturbing) display of Total Jerkiness, I instantly became a Total Jerk. I have no excuses for this, really. I had determined the core ideas I wanted to say, sure, but they seemed to take on a life of their own once they reached the chat window (via my fingers via the brain, which may or may not be in proper working order). No one deserves to be ranted at like that. For whatever reason, I stopped talking to the person on the other end and started typing at them. As if each keystroke was a physical blow of some sort. I still haven't quite figured out why, but apparently I was going straight for the jugular. With such... Drive and such purpose. So fixated on going, with a total lack of thinking or observation. Like a drug. Surreal and terrible.

So as such things do, the conversation ended in an anti-climactic and emotionally-charged implosion.

And in the sleepless hours that followed, I immediately knew what I had done and that the damage had been made. But like I said - no excuses. None.

Back to sitting alone in the studio, in front of my laptop. Whisps of fresh snow were swimming around outside in the dark, and the temperature was right around Far Colder Than It Ever Should Be, Ever. How appropriate. I decided that I needed to do something, and I needed to put out the flames before the bridge was burned. The problem was that I had had waited too long and my pyrotechnics were far too thorough in the first place - the fires had long ago run their course, and all that was left at this point was embers and smoking remains.

And then I got what I deserved. After a couple of precise, unexpected (though they shouldn't have been), and rapid jabs, and before I figured out that I was the source of the damp red liquid that was starting to leak out from under my shirt, came the uppercut.

"To say it hurts is to say Nothing."




Now, there's a good sort of context that surrounds this kind of thing. Context that gives it a million times more weight than eight words, two capital letters and a period have any right to. And stuff like that I keep for a physical journal that I hide away in the corner of my room. So why even bother posting this at all, you ask? Perhaps so that my readership of one can appreciate it (mind you, on some occasions that figure has been known to temporarily double). Really, though, this is a way for me for sort it out in my brain, to inhale and keep it in and internalize it before I blow it out to the world. No one will read it, sure, but that's not what it's about. It creates the illusion that it's out of my hands, because I've tried my best to deal with it and figure it out before letting it go free to fly wherever it wants.

So no, there'll be no context or specifics. I know that this brand of insult could be interpreted one of a million ways, and only I happen to have the key that tells me which one fits. But that's for me and the person that dealt the blow.

Now, how would you respond to something like that? I mean, poetically, there's something in the way that Nothing is capitalized that makes the statement beautifully sharp, jagged, and poignant. But as far as I can tell, semantics and distractions aside, there's no elegant way to get around it and keep your hands clean. So here's your protip: Don't make enemies out of your friends. They're the ones that know how to attack your weak point for Massive Damage.


Can't Hope to See

But through some twist I'm not even sure I understand, apparently there might be enough substance in the contorted, smoldering ruins of this bridge to build on again. I consider myself lucky, because I'm not so convinced that I deserve it.

So will this post bring the sweet cathartic release I've been craving, needing, for the last little while? No. Not even remotely. Something like that sticks with you. I'm not sure if there's any letting go of it, and even if you could, it'll most likely reach out grab a hold of you itself. So I've gotta deal with it. But that's the way these things go, right? And as much as I wish they would wither away and die, those stupid words I typed that one night will probably stick around and hold fast to the other person. I wish they wouldn't. I really wish they wouldn't. That notion feels worse than any Insult of the Year.
-Cril

Some things take so long
But how do I explain
When not too many people
Can see we're all the same
And because of all their tears
Their eyes can't hope to see
The beauty that surrounds them
Isn't it a pity

Isn't it a pity
Isn't is a shame
How we break each other's hearts
And cause each other pain
How we take each other's love
Without thinking anymore
Forgetting to give back
Isn't it a pity

George Harrison - Isn't it a Pity

Saturday, November 12, 2011

To be a Crystalline

Heh. It's almost midnight already. I tried to sit down at 5:30 ish to do some homework, and I started to drift off at my desk. I figured I'd lay down for a half hour, and then get back at it. Instead I went down for three hours. Now I'm going to pay for it.

So last week I didn't get to make a post, which kinda bugged me. It was a pretty nasty week, though - I had three projects come due within five or six days. One of which, a MAJOR project for a package design, really came down to the wire. I don't think I got to bed before 1AM that entire week. I've never really cut a project that close before, consistently staying up so late to get it done on time. I think there was some poor time management on my part along the way, for sure. I figured it wouldn't be a problem to spend one evening out for my cousin's birthday, and spend another evening chatting into the wee hours of the morning with someone. I'm such an idiot. No excuses, no excuses.

Yeah, 5-6 hours of sleep is still pretty decent, I guess. But I don't function that well on less than 7. I prefer 8, if I can get it. Feels like it's been a bit of a downward spiral over the last week as my sleep deficit builds up and weighs me down. One of my coworkers mentioned that I had "dead, lifeless eyes" when I went into the office this week. That's me - a dead, soul-less zombie, bound to walk the earth for the length of his temporary existence.

On a bit of a whim, I went to figure drawing on campus on Wednesday. I finished tutoring went to the top floor to sit down and sketch for a while. I really can't say when the last time was that I was overcome by such a completely encompassing wave of serenity. I mean, yeah, the drawings were garbage. But after parking on that stool, busting out a 2B and 6B and plugging in my consciousness to some music... I just drew. It was wonderful. There was nothing else. And I've never really done figure drawing outside of class assignments before, and that lack of pressure really helped me to loosen up and relax. It was marvelous. So serene. What a perfect way to unwind after a crappy week. Time permitting, I hope I can keep attending each week.

In other news, it was Remembrance Day yesterday. So as I do every year, I watched the sixth episode of Band of Brothers. It really hits a chord with me, and I feel such a tangible sense of dread and horror and sacrifice. And at this point in the semester, where I've been so focused on work and school, how I'm so narrowly fixated and so completely switched off... That one episode is like taking a sledgehammer to my brain. I so wasn't prepared for it.

I have so much homework to do. Well, homework not so much. But other odds and ends I want to accomplish. I don't know if I'll manage to get everything in. Alas, I am on the last... four or five weeks of the semester. The final push begins, and there's sooo much to get through. Lots of big projects to tackle. I wish I had more spare time to draw and play some music. But really, everyone wishes they had more spare time. Maybe, perhaps, someday, I'll get a handful of my own.
-Cril

How does it feel like
to make it happen here?
How does it feel like
to breathe with everything?
How does it feel like
to let forever be?
How does it feel like
to spend a little lifetime sitting in the gutter?

Scream a symphony

How does it feel like
to be a crystalline?
How does it feel like
to spend a little lifetime sitting in the gutter?

Scream a symphony

Chemical Brothers - Let Forever Be

Wednesday, November 02, 2011

Re: Lucre

Frick. The numbers are right.
-Cril

Booker T & the MG's - Slim Jenkins' Place

Sunday, October 30, 2011

Extreme Sounds That Told Me

Still in a weird head space, dammit.

You know what I love, though? When you stumble on a song that has been in your library for ages, and you discover that it totally makes a connection with where you're are mentally at that moment. When you can practically hear your own thoughts being sung back to you through someone else's voice, complete with melody and atmosphere and accompaniment... Feels like it's the definition of divine inspiration to discover that something was there, waiting for you to stumble on it, to express your state of mind better than you're able to.

So... Boy am I feeling unmotivated today. I guess I've been whining about that a lot lately, but hopefully I'll break through it this week. Well, I'll have no choice in the matter, really. I'll have two major projects coming due between the 4th and 8th, so this is a pretty important week.

I'm trying really hard to get less... Invested in school. Don't get me wrong, I still care and I still work hard. But I'm trying to distance myself from the competition and need to completely satisfy my professor. Sure, they're the ones that issue the marks and give feedback, so I really should be going by their word. But at the same time, I'm getting to the point where I need to focus on my portfolio. Marks will matter less. I think. I don't know. I'm putting in a lot of effort, and just finding that the emotional investment tied to marks is draining. I gotta concentrate on what I need to do and accomplish. It's not about grades - it's about skill.

I took a quick peek at my financial totals for 2011 so far. Turns out that I'm doing a lot better this year than I could have expected. And if it wasn't for how methodical and tedius I am with keeping records of these things, I'd be 100% convinced that there was a MAJOR error somewhere. So right now I'm only about 70% certain that there's something wrong with my data. In a way, I guess it makes sense that I'd be doing this well - all this year I've been working part time at both ye normal employment and tutoring, as well as picking up the odd freelance project on the side. So, yes, I should be in pretty good shape. But not this good. I've checked over my spreadsheet twice already, eyeballing my formulas and looking for any cells that contain peculiarly large numbers. And so far I've turned up nothing. Heck, it's open on my other monitor as we speak, taunting me. "You know that I'm screwing with you. You can't possibly be in this good shape for the year. I'm hiding the problem, so you can't find it, sucker." So far, the only thing I can think to do is to individually download every bank statement to cross-check it with my data. Is it worth the time? I'm pretty convinced that what I have isn't right, but is it worth the hassle to figure it out? Just the thought that I've screwed up somewhere in this mess is enough to drive me nuts. I try to really careful with this stuff.

Gah, I just finished looking it over again. Didn't find a thing. I don't get it. I guess I'll have to compare it once I get my tax forms at the end of the year. On the plus side, though, in a moment of weakness where I was high on the fumes of untrustworthy financial statistics, I finally bought myself some headphones. I've been stuck with crappy earbuds since early spring. And because I tend to destroy those too, I bought 6 more pairs. Hopefully that'll last me a year or so. For the headphones, though, I even went ahead and got an extended warranty, so that I can switch 'em out once they inevetibly get destroyed.

Anyways. Back to das hommwerken.
-Cril

Extreme sounds that told me
They held me down every night
I didn't have much to say
I didn't give up the light
I closed my eyes and closed myself
And closed my world and never opened up to anything
That could get me at all

I had to close down everything
I had to close down my mind
Too many things have caught me
Too much could make me blind
I've seen so much in so many places
So many heartaches, so many faces
So many dirty things
You couldn't even believe

Moby - Extreme Ways

Sunday, October 23, 2011

Twenty-Six Thousand Tonnes More

Well, crap. I just made the mistake of having a quick 40min nap. I was having a hard time keeping my eyes open at my desk while trying to get some homework done, so I crashed on the floor. Not only has this completely absorbed some work time, but it is going to come back around and bite me in two or so hours, when I decide to sleep. "Sleep?" my brain will say, "Ha ha ha! You foolish human! Your brief rest means you will not need to sleep until two hours from when you need to get back out of bed!" Argh. It happens every. Single. Time.

In other news, I've this last week I've been chatting with El Coworker some more, which has guaranteed any escape from my recent funk. So I press onwards, as my scumbag brain insists on analyzing far more than I think it was ever meant to. It's rather (mentally) exhausting, and insures me a perpetual state of uncomfortableness.

It was kinda funny, actually. On Saturday (which was yesterday, apparently) I was in the studio by myself, and my motivation lost a fight with distraction. Said uncomfortableness finally got a bit too intense, and so I decided to flee the city. Packed up, went to the car, and waded through traffic on the way to the highway. I merged, and alas, I was free! Until I reached the edge of town, that is, where there was an accident that had my spontaneous escape route backed up. So I took and exit and turned around to go back the way I came... And lo and behold, the first exit I found on my way back was what I needed to take to get to my place. So I gave up, and went home. It was more than a little discouraging, but also amusing. It's funny when you freak out and try to make a break for it, and then the universe shouts back, "SCREW YOU, HAHAHAHA!"

Bomb Omb Battlefield (Sketch-61)

So I went home and finally finished Deus Ex Revolution. Good game. The ending felt a little... Anticlimactic in a way. I wasn't really happy with how some of the ending choices were handled. Still, the whole thing was fun and the story was pretty solid. I mainly relied on stealth, so I can't quite say how the gunplay was. One thing I missed from the original, though, was how you could improve practically every part of your character, from aiming stabilization to how well you swam. The aiming, in particular, really gave you a solid sense of progressing as a character. In the beginning of the game, you were stuck with crosshairs that would sway all over the place, and each time you improved your ability (that even broke down into small, medium, and heavy arm proficiency), it was immediately noticeable and wildly satisfying. Alas, I haven't played the original DE in many many years, so these may be the recollections of a ~15 year old boy that are masquerading as some sort of rational thought.

Ugh, I'm running on not nearly enough sleep. Too many late nights. Seems like I'm constantly fighting with the need to rest. And I don't know what it is about this semester, but I just can't seem to get myself out of bed on time when the alarm goes off. I usually sleep for another half-hour, before I get up and run out of the house. Once I slept in for an hour. I still don't know how I made it to class on time that day.

Bleh, I'm feeling out of it. Time to go homeworkize. And than lay down my bones into my bed and do anything but sleep.
-Cril

The wind in the wires made a tattle-tale sound
And a wave broke over the railing
And every man knew, as the captain did too
'Twas the witch of November come stealin'
The dawn came late and the breakfast had to wait
When the Gales of November came slashin'
When afternoon came it was freezin' rain
In the face of a hurricane west wind.

Gordon Lightfoot - Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald

Sunday, October 16, 2011

Regarding Recent Exposure

I'm in a really weird head-space right now. I got chatting with a co-worker in the later hours of Thursday evening, when I should have been focusing on a Typography assignment. Instead we ended up discussing certain revelations until somewhere around 2AM. Just having someone to bat an idea around with for a few hours proved to be insightful, and I think I reached some interesting conclusions. In particular, I had no right to complain about what I was whining about in that post. I think it's a bit selfish and naive to assume that you're somehow entitled to such a relationship. The worlds a big place, and there's no kind of guarantee that everyone gets the kind of support they wish they had. And it's damn self-centered to assume that there'll be someone, somewhere that you can call in for backup at the drop of a hat. There are some battles, I think, that are meant to be fought and won or lost on your own. Not everyone is lucky enough to get the kind of reinforcements they wish they had at any given time, and it's naive and a folly to stake a campaign on it.

It's kinda depressing how long it took for that concept to click home. I'm not saying that we're all alone, and will be forever, and can't expect to have others there for us. But for some things, it'll just never be the case. We aren't entitled to anything, so you shouldn't be expecting it in the first place.

Over the course of the evening, though, El Coworker picked my brain for quite a while, just kinda poking at things and making interesting observations. One of which was "you think about stuff that aint supposed to be thought about". Which, quite frankly, rather amused me. I like to think that all the ramblings I post here aren't completely mundane.

Then she went on to make a few more remarks that I found rather uncomfortable, and to be honest, I don't completely understand. And I'm still trying to turn some of that stuff over in my mind's eye, examining it like it's some sort of foreign device that I just can't figure out how it's supposed to be used. I think I know what it's supposed to do, but not really how.

Uhm, yeah. It's all put me in a bit of a funk. I got home late last night from a wedding reception, and all the residual activity going on inside my head from Thursday just wouldn't let me get to sleep. So I naturally did what anyone would do under such circumstances - I busted out the kit and shaved my head. Pretty short, at least. Had there been more razors in the cabinet and/or I was blessed with a slightly less hideous scalp, I might've taken it all off. But once I finished, I went into the shower to wash off. And then I used up my borderline dull and sole remaining razor to take off the beard. And then I went to bed, and slept. Not very well, mind you - things are getting pretty cool at this time of year, and my cranium was left rather exposed to the lack of warmth in my dungeon suite. Still, it felt good. I wish my hair was longer, so more of it could've come off for even MORE Catharsis Points.

So until I get this whole ordeal sorted and tagged and catalogued within this wonderfully disordered (and freshly cut) head o' mine, it'll be business as usual. Perhaps with sharply increased intake and care put into my music selection. But at least I came away from it with one conclusion that I can put into practice. I suspect it'll take a few tries to get working the way I want it to, though. Implementation is always the hardest part.
-Cril

Rob Dougan - Clubbed to Death 2

Monday, October 10, 2011

Thanks.

Ok, it's getting late, and I probably still have another hour's work of homework I need to finish for tomorrow. But it is Thanksgiving (for the next 47 minutes, at least), so I figure I should throw some thoughts out there. Despite my rather pessimistic outlook on things, there are a lot of things to be thankful for:

-Goin' to a decent school. Yeah, I complain about it a lot. I miss having free time. But I'm really glad to have the opportunity to spend four years of my life studying a profession I enjoy. And maybe I've just fallen prey to its own propaganda, but I really feel confident that this particular school is something special. I think I'm lucky to have ended up where I am.

-Having solid, decent-paying part-time work. Work that allows me to clock in at odd hours, do things I enjoy with intelligent coworkers. Employment that pays me more than I think I actually deserve, and helps me keep my (financial) head above the water during the school year.

-Living in a pretty great country. Sure Canada has got its fair share of problems, but compared with a lot of places, it's really a nice place to be. I mean, the long winters suck for sure, but all things considered, I think it's something that I really take for granted how blessed I am to live where I am.

-The (few) close friends I have. I don't spend as much time with them as I should, but the unquestioning support and patience and engaging conversation goes a really long way amongst a world of brief, passing relationships.

-Having some really kind/considerate family in the city. Similar to above, but they feed me, like, a lot of food and come to my rescue when my car craps out. Which tends to happen with alarming frequency.

-Music. My word, where would I be without it. My emotional and spiritual and mental crutch. It's there when I need it, and there always seems to be a particular song waiting for me to stumble upon that will fix the world as if it's a custom-designed tool to fit this one single job. I just can't fathom not having it on hand. I don't know what I'd do with myself.

-Cars. My car. Driving. Well, okay, I'm in an abusive relationship with my car - so that feeling tends to come and go. But it's unbelievable how much wonder and excitement I get from automobiles. Reading about them, watching them... Yeah, I'm mechanically inept and probably don't actually understand much of what's going on. But it doesn't stop that flame of boyish wonder from lighting up my day. Makes me feel alive. To know that, yeah, there's something special out there. And I love driving so much. With the costs associated with it, it can be a bit of a guilty pleasure. But what a pleasure. The air is starting to get chilly and the leaves are changing to strange hues before collecting in the gutters - winter is definitely around the corner. And with that comes the need for wearing big boots and thick gloves. And this knowledge, dawning on me over the past two weeks, has really made me realize how much I enjoy driving. Feeling the grooves in the steering wheel rhythmically run over your fingers as the wheels straighten out, and the H pattern on the shifter knob that lays under your palm. The spring of the gas pedal underneath my foot, sensing the engine's revolutions vibrate through every surface, and every bump in the road that travels up through the suspension... My word. All of that at once, on an open road with a full tank of gas and some music coming through the speakers... It's a sensory overload that's the very definition of bliss.

So, yeah. I'm thankful. And now I'm thankful and running behind on my assignment. Happy Thanksgiving, y'all.
-Cril

The London Symphony Orchestra - Life on Mars

Sunday, October 09, 2011

Missing Connection

You know what? It kinda sucks not having a go-to wingman on hand. I wanted a hand with something the other day, something kinda personal and peculiar in my own way. And the thought occurred to me... I don't really have anyone in my class that I could trust with this. Or in the whole school, for that matter.

Well, it's not really an issue of trust. I know a handful of really good people in my class. I enjoy working with them, and we get along really well, and have a great time together as we wade through our four years of education. It's just that none of them... get me.

Wow. What a pretentious, angsty, teenager thing to say. But it's still true.

Outside of schoolwork, there's not much of a connection. And I know that if I were to go to one of these people with my strange little idea, they'd do their best to help me out. I don't doubt that at all. But none of them would understand said strange little idea. They'd give me funny looks and humour me the whole way through.

And that's what kinda unnerves me a bit. I have no one in my physical everyday life that I really see eye-to-eye with. And not on terms of politics or religion or whatever - that stuff shouldn't really matter. But in terms of personality. I guess what I'm getting at is... I don't know any decent introverts, dammit. And two introverts together is like a grand ol' vertex of introvertedness that's so incredibly satisfying in a way that I don't even have words for.

Who knows. Perhaps these are wildly unrealistic expectations, and it's next to impossible to find someone that I can interact with in precisely the way I'm imagining. But I can think of one or two people that if they were right there, yeah, I think I'd do alright to bounce a lil' bit of my crazy off of them. Even if they didn't totally understand why, they could somehow relate to it and trust me on the whole thing.

Bleh, look at me rambling on and not really saying anything. My point is... I know some good people at school/work, and enjoy spending time with them. But I don't have anyone I see in day-to-day life that I'd feel comfortable automatically leaning on. It kinda sucks, and I've found this whole epiphany to be more than a little unnerving.

Also, this is my 300th post and I have absolutely nothing interesting to say.
-Cril

Ludovico Einaudi - I Colori Caldi Della Terra

Sunday, October 02, 2011

Trying to Call Somebody Else

I'm pretty sure that when you permanently delete/remove your Facebook account, they still retain some of your old data on hand. Looking at the recommendations for 'Friends', there are at least two people from, we'll call it, the "Old Life". People from a different province altogether that I haven't really seen face-to-face in years. And somehow, Facebook magically thinks that based on my profile I might just happen to know them. Sure. Riiiight. There is nothing, absolutely nothing in either my profile information or current contacts that could possibly link me back so precisely to those people that I once upon a time had in my Friends list, before I destroyed the account with what I supposed was the digital equivalent of fire and brimstone. I have no way to prove the theory that they actually kept information from my old account on hand, of course. Maybe it's based on my email address, and those people have tried looking for me, and Facebook has kept that search on hand for when said account was claimed.

Either way, it still creeps me out and wish I wasn't on there at all. I don't trust Facebook at all. And I mean, yeah, Google has waaay more of my information and I'm less worried about them. They seem less scummy, you know? I could be wrong. In fact, I'm sure that Google has some less-than-reputable projects going on behind closed doors. Times like this, I wish I could just delete myself from the internet and move on. I don't like the idea of anyone keeping tabs on me like that.

I actually went through and parsed a half-dozen contacts from my Facebook contact list, after the person that made my account sent requests out to a bunch of people I don't know. Looking at my current list, sure I know most of them. But are they my friends? No. Not at all. And I want to destroy all those inaccurate connotations that they are. But alas, this is a professional networking tool, not for socializing. I'll leave 'em be. For now. But just the fact that it says "Friends (48)" makes me cringe. There is no way in hell that number should be so high. It just... Rubs me the wrong way. Like sandpaper on my cerebellum. It just ain't right.

And, of course, to prevent further people from finding me, I'm refusing to actually edit/fill in any of the profile info. As far as it's concerned, I went to a highschool I never set foot in, have a birthday three and a half months before I was born, and I'm currently attending a school on the other side of the country. And I've figured out the privacy settings (supposedly), so I even have all this information set to friends-only. And it's going to stay that way.

Some days I feel like such a grumpy old man of a hermit. Kids these days. Hrmph.
-Cril

Just seven numbers
Can straighten out my life
But my pride won't let me phone

Four Tops - Just Seven Numbers (Can Straighten Out My Life)

Sunday, September 25, 2011

No Reckognition in Their Eyes

Hrm... I have no idea what to say for myself tonight. I've been slacking a bit over the last week, having a hard time focusing and working. I gotta get my game in gear. This week has been a gong-show of appointments and scheduling, and with some nasty assignments coming up, it would've been nice to know when and where I should be. Bleh. This week will be better right?

Unfortunately for me, last week's Porsche adventure has started to fade depressingly fast into one long blur of surreal sensations. Not so much exact details as feelings. I guess it was such an intense experience that I was crushed under a sense of wonder and thrill, blocking out room for specific bits of information. It'll still put a smile on my face, for sure, but it's kinda sad how fast it's turned into a giant smudge against the wall of my memory. I'm really glad I wrote that last post so soon after it happened, though. Something tells me that I'll be flipping back to re-read it on a semi-regular basis.

Someone from my class finally got sick of me not being on Facebook, and created an account for me. He then proceeded to add some friends for me... And before I knew it, I had accumulated just shy of 50 new contacts, without sending out a single request myself. Most of the people are mere acquaintances, and some of which I don't even know at all. Why did they accept the request in the first place? 'Tis one of the mysteries of Facebook, I suppose. Being the way I am, 'Friend' is a term I don't throw around lightly. And, if it were to stay accurate to my interpretation of the word, I'd probably have less than 10 contacts. But it's not. I just need to accept Facebook for what it is: a networking tool. As is, I don't really log in unless I get an email notification that says someone's directly interacting with me. We'll see. I'm still not too excited by the privacy shinanigans, but I figure there's nothing to be worried about if there's nothing there in the first place. Right now I'm rockin' a bare-bones profile. And, thanks to the friend who set up my account, for some reason I graduated from a highschool I never attended and am currently attending a school on the other side of the country. I'm not feeling inclined to fix it. Yet, anyways. One thing I gotta say, though, is that Facebook has a really... Not very intuitive interface. Maybe I'm getting too old for this kinda stuff or something, but it takes me an unusually long time to find the most basic options/features. Gotta say, I'm much more impressed with Google Plus so far.

What else... I totally fluked out on my first Typography assignment. My critique went pretty well. Truth be told, I had been fighting with it all week long, until I kinda just gave up and ran with the front-runner. I feel lucky - it may have well as been someone else who made it. You know, that kind of a situation where you know it wasn't your knowledge or skill that got you through, just a matter of the Assignment Gods choosing to smile down on you, in their infinite whimsy.

Typography III, Project 1 - Mark Making - IMG_8863 
If you were to click through on that image, you'd see the description/rationale that I presented with the piece in class. The other meaning to it, though, was to reflect how I was feeling. I felt like I didn't know what I was doing, and I was getting frustrated. Venting that into the final piece felt really good, even if I was the only person to know it.

Anyways, I'm going to go to bed. I've been feeling pretty exhausted all week, and if I have any hope of surviving the next round of classes I'll need whatever I can get.
-Cril

Sometimes there’s a part of me
Has to turn from here and go
Running like a child from these warm stars
Down the seven bridges road


The Eagles - Seven Bridges Road

Sunday, September 18, 2011

Sound of Speed

I'm usually listening to some sort of music while I pound out these posts. But I have a problem: I heard a song live, and it's stuck in my head. And it's not like I can't find a recording of it. But with such things, it's impossible to recreate that feeling and experience of being there.

You see, I just went for a ride in a Porsche 911 GT3.

And to be honest, I'm having a hard enough time trying to make my thoughts coherent within my own head, let alone finding a way to express them using something so clumsy as words. All I know is that I'm wearing a massive smile that I can't seem to shake.

Let's rewind for a second. My love of Porsches spawned with Need for Speed: Porsche Unleashed, way back in 2000. I'm not even sure if I thought it was that big of a deal at the time. Unlike most young boys, I kinda skipped the sports car faze. Maybe it was because I grew up in small towns where such sights were rare. But either way, that old, pixelated game planted a seed, and I promptly forgot about exotic cars for the next 6-7 years. And later I picked up playing other Need for Speed titles again, which was fun, sure. But I really got the bug when I started watching Top Gear, and now as a 20-something year old man, I'm enamoured by cars. I can't shake it. I've successfully transitioned from following video game news like a hawk, to being completely obsessed with the auto industry.

And for some reason or another, that seed planted 11 years ago has sprouted and bloomed into a total love for all things Porsche. Not the outrageous Lamborghini or the refined Aston Martin or the classic Ferrari. I appreciate the sight and sound of them, sure, but it's only the news of Stuttgart's finest that I'll click first above all else when it appears in my news feeds. I crave Porsche. I even have a keychain with the crest, which is horribly mismatched to the Acura key it's bound to. It's almost insulting.

And yet, I've never really been in a Porsche. I've peered at them closely in parking lots and inspected them from behind the velvet ropes at auto shows. To my credit, I tried to get in one once. It was a 996 Boxter at some used auto lot, that had the roof down. I figured that if that wasn't an invitation to get in and sit down, nothing else would be. Turns out the car had an alarm. The salesman at the lot looked at me, rolled his eyes, and told me to screw off while he went inside to find the keys that disable the blaring sounds. What happens once inside a Porsche forever eluded me as a mystery.

So when I moved this last spring, and discovered that an authentic Porsche enthusiast lived in my neighborhood, it kinda blew my mind. He has a well-stocked garage, and some of his friends will come over to hang out and work on their own examples of Germany's finest. And it's such a treat, because every other time I come home from a long day at work or school, I'm often greeted by the beautiful site of a Porsche in my neighbour's driveway. Sometimes two. Of different models. From different years. A 911 Turbo. A GT3 RS4. A 996, a 997, a 964, a 993... It's absolutely wonderful. And it all happens within a few minute's walk from what I call home base. It blows my mind how lucky I was to move here, when I didn't have the faintest idea what gem of opportunity would be lurking nearby. The very definition of serendipity, my friends.

So it took me the entire summer to work up the courage to actually speak with the guy, after figuring out how to best compose myself to not look like awkward and obsessive. But a month ago on one Saturday morning, instead of turning the ignition in my car to drive to work I opened the door, got back out, and strolled down the street to talk with him as he was washing his car in the driveway. Turns out that he's a super fantastic guy. Really friendly, and was glad to show me his GT3 and tell me about it. Told me about the modifications and how he took it out to the track as often as he could. I drank it all up.

And this morning, not even two hours ago, he took me for a 20min ride.

There are no words.

I'd want to say something like 'sublime', but even that feels grossly insufficient. What I immediately noticed was how low the car was, and how foreign (yet satisfying) it felt to lift up the door handle from such an angle. Then I got in and sat down. The seat swallowed me whole - and not like an overly padded Ikea chair. It gripped me. The headrest made sure I was sitting up straight and paying attention. Almost as if saying "Keep your eyes forward - you won't want to miss this." And then we pulled out of the driveway and headed to the highway. I noticed how stiff the suspension was, and how it communicated so eloquently every crack and bump in the road. I loved it. Some would call it uncomfortable, but I wouldn't have it any other way.

Then it came time to merge, where we promptly got held up behind a minivan puttering along, almost oblivious to the fact that they should be speeding up to match the 100kp/h flow of traffic. A bit of an anti-climatic start, but when we pulled out to pass all that frustration was swept away.

100kph in second gear. Second gear. The time in which we reached it was over woefully quick, but it was like someone dumped a bucket of water on me. The first thing I noticed was the wrestling match between my back and the seat, as I was pushed back during those precious few seconds of incredible acceleration.

The next thing I was blown away by was the sound. Generally, in Top Gear or articles or whatever other car reviews, they mention how glorious the exhaust note is. And really, I kinda wrote it off as a fluff piece to pad the content. I mean yeah, they sounds good in those videos, but whatever. But sitting in that car as the tachometer passed the 4000RPM mark... The words fail me, again. You can see the acceleration, and you can feel it. But being able to hear it, and so richly... Being a 911, the engine is in the rear. It was like being chased, no, it was like being pushed by some inconceivable embodiment of pure fury. But what did it sound like?

Well, I can tell you that this particular GT3 was modified to use a complete Akrapovic Titanium exhaust system.

...

Damn, this is hard. It's like saying, "Yeah man, Eric Clapton played that guitar part with a Fender Stratocaster." You know what it is, and you know what it kind of sounds like. But you have no idea what it sound it makes.

It reached down into my being and it grabbed something and gave it a squeeze. You felt it. If you could inject adrenaline directly into your soul, this is what you'd feel. I'm not even going to try mashing words like 'growl', 'rumble', 'whine' and a consortium of other adjectives together, because it just won't do it justice. Suffice it to say that it was, easily, two-thirds of the joy of being in that vehicle.

There were other perks. The interior material was gorgeous, and I couldn't stop myself from running a finger up and down the stitching. The cockpit was elegant - nothing felt cluttered. Just precise and driven by purpose. The cornering was marvelous - the amount of grip was phenomenal. It was like the reverse of a hovercar, as if we were being sucked down into the road. And getting to be behind the soft curve of the headlamp (a classic and defining feature of all 911's) was so elegantly inspiring.

And at one point as we had almost returned home, I looked to the right at the side mirror, and I saw the spoiler's tip perched above the swell of the wheel arch. All that came to mind was "Damn."

I really don't know how else to summarize this. For once I don't have a sarcastic conclusion or a delicate song selection to properly express the emotion I'm trying to convey. And maybe that's why I'm still not listening to music while I finish this post. I want to hold onto that glorious aural manifestation of a naturally aspirated flat 6. I want to cherish it and never let it fade away.
-Cril

Sunday, September 11, 2011

And Into the Breach

Ok, so. Two things. First off, I want to try to keep posting once a week while I'm still in school. I'll probably be brief and sporadic and borderline nonsensical, but I want to keep going. Second, it has come to attention that I use this blog to complain. Like, a lot. And I want to try stepping away from that direction, so that I'm less of a whiner. "Weh weh, life is so tough for meeeee." You know what? Everyone has their demons, I'm no exception, and as a result that doesn't make any of my woes noteworthy. So I'll try and throttle that back for a time. I can't say how successful I'll be or how long it'll last, but I'll do what I can.

This is going to be one of those short posts. My weekend kinda disappeared into a cloud of regrettable time management. I got done over two and a half days what should've taken me a solid afternoon to take care of. Bleh. I really gotta clamp down and get things done. It seems like the semester is taking off where the last one left off. There's none of this "I'm waiting for things to really get started" crap. It sucks, sure, but I just need to stay focused and I'll be fine. I'm a bit apprehensive about some other odds and ends I want to maintain while I'm still in school, but what happens will happen.

Part of this mismanagement stemmed from Friday evening, where I spent a solid hour watching highlights from Whose Line Is It Anyways on YouTube. As a whole, it was time very well wasted. I haven't laughed so thoroughly in a while. Felt good.

So first week of school in review... Intro to Digital Technology has me working on some HTML and CSS. The prior I'm fairly familiar with, to the point of near-boredom, but I've known very little of CSS before taking this course. We won't be hand-coding things for long, but I've thoroughly enjoyed getting my hands dirty and coming to understand the kind of power that CSS represents. I've become fairly excited for this course. Mind you, it's quite something else to be taking my first HTML course since Info Tech waaaay back in high school. It's interesting to see how abstract and completely foreign it is to some members of my class. Others already know it, and some who haven't touched it before are able to pick it up quite naturally. It's a pretty wide spectrum of skill. Kind of a neat thing to witness, for the sake of perspective.

Other classes. Working on some sort of chart poster thing in Information Design. The assignment outline isn't very vague, the prof didn't do a much better job of explaining it, and to seal the deal, this is a new assignment and therefore there aren't any samples. I'm quite confused. I think I have a (rather absurd) direction I want to pursue, but I really don't know if I'm on target at all.

In Advertising... It's the same as where I left off last year. Doing ads. This one is for the charity group Oxfam, and I need to address one of the issues they're tackling as well as feature how this particular organization is unique/effective/awesome. It's this duality that I'm struggling with. I'm having problems coming up with an elegant solution, let alone generating a solid amount of rough ideas. The inspiration, she will not come.

And then there's Typography. I understand the assignment, I really do... I just can't get the stars to align. The project requires us to take random objects and write sentences that reflect that kind of mark making said object produces. I was hoping to make some sort of semi-coherent series, and my objects aren't producing the range of effects I'd like. Frustrating.

IMG_1607.1


On a social note, I forgot my earbuds one day at school. It was... Painful. I had nothing to hide behind for the day, and was subjected to overhearing the conversations of a loud, nearby table. I have nothing against the people themselves, it was just obvious that we have very different outlooks on life. It was lots of nattering about people's social lives, and some terrible jokes, and generally lots of laughing/giggling as a gaggle of young women tend to do. Again, nothing against them... It's just not my thing, and would have rather taken my mind somewhere else for a time.

So that's it for now. I'm going to bed. I'm going to have a productive day tomorrow, dammit. I'm going to get caught up on some homework during and after class, so that I'll go to go to bed at the end of the day feeling like I made a good use of the previous 24 hours. That's the idea, at least.
-Cril

Ronald Jenkees - Stay Crunchy (YouTube version)

Sunday, September 04, 2011

Mechanic Scholastic

So, I started classes this Thursday with Introduction to Web Design. We're covering the absolutely riveting topic of HTML and CSS. HTML I already know a bit. I learned it way back in High School, and have used bits and pieces of it on and off. I'm actually surprised at how much I still remember. CSS, I've fooled around with a bit here and there, but never really knew what I was doing. So this first unit is a mix of deadly boring, and semi-intriguing. We're actually not spending that long on actual hand-coding (ah, the tedious glories of Notepad...), before moving on to normal application-based weberizing with the likes of Dreamweaver. I want to give Muse a try at some point, but apparently it's too new to be in the curriculum. Oh well, I'm sure the course will be a decent experience, I'm sure I'll learn some good stuff.

On Friday I had typography, for all of 30mins. Apparently my prof was out of the country, so the two similar classes were brought together, the other prof introduced the assignment, and then he disappeared too. Exciting.

The thing that struck me is that when I walked in and took a seat... It felt familiar. Too familiar. Like I never left. And that kinda scared the crap out of me. I didn't really have that suppressed energy and excitement that usually lurks under the new semester anxiety. Instead it was just a universal feeling of dread. The wonderful notion of "yup, here we go again." Well, I won't lie. There was a familiar sense of relief at being able to hunker down and focus and spend let nights in the studio alone. But the fact of the matter is, I was expecting, even hoping, to feel recharged and ready to go.

It kind of scares me, to be honest. I mean, I've burned out every semester, and this probably won't be any different. I'm just worried that it'll happen a lot sooner than later. Almost as if I already have. I was kinda banking on that beginning sense of excitement to distract me from the work, for a time. Well, the work doesn't bother me too much. I'm afraid to death of Typography, but I'll live. The thing I really don't like is the hours. A 40hr week seems so foreign to me right now. I've been doing 60-80hrs over the last two years, and it's starting to wear thin. It worries me that I'm only at the half-way point and it's really starting to feel like a joyless grind.

DSC07825.1

There's a guy near where I live who owns a new Porsche 911 GT3. It gorgeous. It makes a wonderful sound, and he's had it out all summer, working on it and tweaking it and keeping it gorgeous. I've been eying it all season, and yesterday I finally worked up the nerve to go and ask the man for a quick tour. He mentioned that he and some friends competed in the Chump Car challenge in May (a 24hrs race for cars that cost a total of $500, like the 24hrs of LeMons in the US), where they ran an old 911. Talked to him some more and he said he'd been saving for his GT3, which was bought brand-new, since he was 11. The discussion and experience was wonderful, and I had a massive grin on my face for the rest of the morning.

This is going to sound borderline creepy, considering that I'd talked to him for a total of ten minutes, but that's the kinda guy I want to be. It gives me something to shoot for, something to hope for. Some light at the end of the tunnel. I want to be there some day. I'll keep my fingers crossed that I won't be a worked-out wreck by the time it comes my way. Bide my time until it arrives. Stomach out slow days and have dreams of a flat six to help me get through the long nights.

It just feels like where I am and where I want to be are two places completely at odds with each other. And weeks like this, I just don't know how to reconcile the two. The day-to-day grind just feels too all-encompassing. Here's hoping I'll come out the other side in one piece.
-Cril

The xx - Intro

Sunday, August 28, 2011

Got Me Gone

So... This is it. My last non-school weekend. Mind you, next weekend will be a long one with Labour Day and whatnot, but still. It'll be tainted by having gone to classes on the Thursday and Friday beforehand. Bah, bah I say!

After much deliberation, I actually managed to do something with myself this weekend. Well, I still worked Saturday morning, and today was full of odds-and-ends style shenanigans, but Saturday afternoon... I actually fled the city. A coworker lent me a Canon 30D along with far too many lenses that were far to expensive. The only other experience I've had a proper camera is within the confines at work, primarily for shooting product. Nothing too exotic. I don't think I've even taken the lens off of the thing at all, not to mention that 90% of shooting takes place within one mode at particular settings. So I will come right out and say that when it came time to shoot in the wild, I took a cheat cheat with me. And even then, it took a while for things to really click in before I felt like I knew that I could pretend to know what I was doing.

But, like I said, I was kinda on the fence about the whole thing. Less than a week until school starts, and there are still a million things I need to do. At work particularly. I know I've worked hard this summer, and kept my head down trying to get things done... But it feels like I've been fighting distraction after distraction the along way, and I wasn't as productive as I should've been. There's so much to do. And I could've gone home and organized my room and done my laundry, and give myself a haircut, and sketch... And truth be told, I was hesitant of going on any sort of trip, because I don't trust my car. I had that pit in my stomach that told me that going out of town to cruise some of the less traveled roads was a completely stupid thing to do.

But I did it. I finished that last email I had to said, borrowed a tripod from the office, and got in the car. Set the tunes, and off I went. Where, exactly? East. I picked a semi-major road, and I followed it until it turned into a dirt trail with a generic, numerical name. Then I followed it some more, turned around, and went back to the last road that was also paved, and followed that North for a while. Then I found another road leading East again, and turned off. And I went and I went, and at some point I turned South onto a small dirt road. There was a sign warning of a chicane, and I knew I'd found something special. And I followed it until it turned into more of a dirt trail, which was much more suited for vehicles that had a bit more clearance than my Integra. But I followed it for a while, carefully straddling the ruts and listening to the flowers and plants strike the underside of the car. And finally, once I was convinced that this was indeed no longer a legitimate road, I managed to turn around (and flatten the grass and weeds that would've constituted the shoulders of this path) to head back. And I stopped, and I got out.

And what followed was a rather interesting sensation. One of complete detachment.

IMG_1658.1

My cellphone, of course, had long since lost reception anyways. But getting out and looking around, there was no civilization. There were artifacts of it, of course. Lots of barbed wire fences, and along with dirt roads and old shacks constitute the main staples of prairie farm land. There were bees and weeds and grass and fields of such plant life that a city bum like me could never identify. But I was more surprised at what wasn't there. There wasn't a distinct dour of car and building and people sweat. And the rhythmic tide of road traffic was very absent. Those two things were like a slap in the face. For once I couldn't hear or smell the city. And there were artifacts of other people, like the fence posts or the ruts my car were carefully straddling, but no highway or road to watch the cars march by like a trail of ants. It was just me, squished in between two fields that used a seldom trod pathway as a poor excuse for a border. It was entirely liberating feeling of peace. Total separation from the machine of society. Such an entirely foreign sensation, that I just happened to stumble upon while traveling a well-forgotten trail to the middle of nowhere. I can't even say with a certainty that I've felt it before.

And just like some kind of crappy movie, I spotted a jet flying overhead and knew it was time to head back. And I indeed made it back just fine - it seems that, this time, my automotive fears were not necessary. Way out there, though, I would've been royally screwed if I got stuck. But I didn't. And driving with my music on and windows down while I chased the horizon was a lot of fun. I really can't get that kind of enjoyment out of video games or movies or reading. It's the kind of thing that, if I would do it more often, would probably make me a semi-balanced and happy individual. I love driving. I really, really do.

It took me all evening to sort through and prep the photos I took. I'd been shooting over the course of the entire trip, stopping here and there to snap some photos. I swear, those farm roads have spots made for photographers - small paved patches at the side of the road, big enough for two cars to comfortable park on. They're probably meant for farm equipment or field access or something remotely practical, but I found my own use for them. Overall, I had a fun time. The equipment was incredibly intimidating. Heck, I only had the courage to break out the monster wildlife/action lens once. That thing was massive. Having direct control of things like shutter and focus (I'm not quite sure if I have decent command of aperture yet) was wonderful. It reminds me of the first time I tried drawing with a tablet, compared to a mouse. How did I live without it? It changes everything.

Well, everything except my talent, that is. I had a good time, but the whole batch of photos left me underwhelmed. After all was said and done, there was nothing really noteworthy or inspiring in there. Maybe it was composition, or maybe I just need to be more proficient with the equipment. Or maybe I just plain ol' suck at photography. But considering this was just my first kick at the can with a DSLR, I don't think I should've expected anything more. I definitely want to get my own with a set of decent lenses. I'm hooked. Alas, such a notion must be tempered. These things do not come cheap, and there are more important things to be focused on.

So this is pretty much it for another summer, I guess. I feel like I was cheated out of a real summer somehow, but I have no one to blame but myself. That trip yesterday did more to recharge me than the last three or four months combined, but I still find myself a bit lacking. Seems like last summer was more enjoyable. I managed to sketch, game, and generally slack off more. In an impressive display of a total lack of self-discipline, I purchased Deus Ex Revolution last week, thinking I could play through most of it by the time I had to go back. But the time to do so hasn't presented itself, and it looks like I probably won't get to play it much, if at all, before I go back to studenting. I guess I had a few side projects on the go this summer, but... I don't know. As a whole it was a pretty unsatisfying break from school. So back to the grind with me then. Even though I'm not quite so sure I totally left the grind to begin with. But at least I found a hiding spot from it on an old and forgotten, completely unremarkable dirt road.
-Cril

You know I've heard about people like me,
But I never made the connection.
They walk one road to set them free
And find they've gone the wrong direction.

But there's no need for turning back
'Cause all roads lead to where I stand.
And I believe I’ll walk them all
No matter what I may have planned.

Don McLean - Crossroads

Sunday, August 21, 2011

Seemed Like a Good Idea at the Time

Ugh. Have you ever found yourself in a position where you ask yourself... What the hell was I thinking? You see, here I am, ten measely days from the end of my summer. I've realized that, for some reason, I thought that using my only two non-school months of the year to work 50-60hrs a week with some freelance projects on my off hours seemed like a good idea. There was this game with a jumping puzzle, where if you were on a cloud, it would slowly sink for a few seconds before disappating and you fell through. It appears that that is the fate that befell me and my summer. It just evaporated and seeped through the cracks. Here I am standing on the ground, wondering where the heck it all went.

I have some money. I could've done something with myself. Coulda gone somewhere. It's embarrassing to admit how little daylight I've experienced. Most of it is the fledging glow of the setting sun as I emerge from the office at the end of the day. It's probably safe to say that I did not get any significant exposure to summer. I somehow managed to let it passed me by under the notion that all the work would be worth it.

And I mean, sure, it was easier than the school year. 60 hours a week is, after all, just 60 hours a week. I managed to play a game or two, I've been able to (mostly) keep up on sketching once a day for July and August, I played my instrument, went out for the odd meal with friends/family... I just can't believe how little free time I've had, though. I mean, that totally seems to contradict the previous statement, but I seemed to have wasted my time on many small things I had to get done. And now the summer has been squandered. But still... 60hrs a week could've been 40hrs a week. I could've used some of my vacation days, like normal people tend to do, rather than stockpiling them to cash in like a burnt out gambler at the end of the day. A pathetic consolation prize for managing to skip over the most coveted season of the year.

So what now? I do, after all, have a week and a half left to do something, anything, with myself. Alas, 'tis too late. There's too much to do, too much responsibility I have to be responsible about. I honestly entertained the idea of working 8hr days for the rest of the summer, and I immediately found the notion to be a rather stupid musing. There's simply too large a pile of crap to burn through, if I want to go back to school with most things in a manageable position.

All these musings are almost certainly a manifestation of my nervousness for the upcoming year. Will I be able to hack it? Can I find the time to do everything I need to? I'll be studying on some of the more senior professors with higher standards... Am I ready to take the unavoidable hit to my grades? The second year was supposed to be the hardest of the program. What if this one isn't any different? What if it's worse? That's what I'm coming to expect from it.

Sketch-49

But there's always next Saturday, right? That's kinda what I'm banking my hopes for a peaceful sanity on, but I wish the day wouldn't come at all. Just leave it as something I can continually look forward to. The perpetual someday. Anything beyond the end of my education is too far out of sight. Keep the carrot near and palpable, but unknowingly unobtainable.

So. Saturday. Will it be a victim of last-minute organization? More odd jobs, so that I can satisfy my need to be physically, rather than mentally, prepared? Or perhaps I'll borrow the DSLR from work, and get in my car, pick a direction and just go. If only I could trust the car, and if only I was proficient enough with the camera. If only.
-Cril

We almost forgot how lovely a summer can be
Without any worries or rain
How lovely a summer here can be
We almost forgot how warm a meadow can be
Open your eyes and open your windows
And see how lovely a summer here can be

I love you
I love you
I love you
I love you
I love you
I love you
Give me a kiss
Give me a kiss
Give me a kiss, quickly, before the last bus

Scala & Kolacny Brothers - Ik Hou Van U

Wednesday, August 17, 2011

Wind Down/Up

Another obligated blog post. I'm getting so stressed on the run up to school. There's so much I need to get done, and I was (foolishly) hoping that I could spend the last two weeks before school trying to calm the nerves. Part of it is the fault of my relatives (Uncle/Aunt/Cousins) that came into town. I've spent ALL of the last four evenings with them. Which, really, was rather nice. We spent some good time together. I managed to simultaneously wrestle and beat up all my cousins from that side of the family at once. And my uncle treated me to my first straight-razor shave (MANCHIEVEMENT UNLOCKED), and we went out for a good brunch, and had some birthday cake, and watched a neat documentary on re-creating the WWII dam busters attack.

The problem was that I was expecting them in late Sunday before leaving mid Monday, and was kinda banking on Sat/Mon/Tue evening to get stuff done. Blog, email, a few freelance projects, renew insurance, etc etc. But these evenings evaporated in a rather unproductive, yet still pleasant manner. Bah. I don't feel bad for spending time with them, it's just a tad frusterating how the precious few drops of summer seem to be seeping through the cracks.

Anyways, there's lots to do with lots of responsibilities. Which is kinda good that I finally got a dataphone with a plan. I can be in touch and connected where ever I go. I've texted more in the past week than I have in the past three years. Most favorably, I think I like having the ability to get directions from wherever I'm at to whever it is I need to go. Quite handy. It eats the battery like crazy, but it's a fair trade off. And I have a USB adapter/cable in my car for recharging the contraption anyways.

I'm not quite sold on the smartphone, though. Particularly, I'm not sure about being connected all the time and being expected to be reachable 24/7. It's kinda nice to spend time in communication limbo, you know? Whatever.

Sketch-37

To completely switch tracks, isn't it interesting when an expected opinion is finally blurted out? It's one of those things where you have absolutely no proof of it, but you completely know what people think/talk about you when you aren't around. And in a moment of fatigue, it comes out when you're around. And really, it isn't even viscous or hurtful or meant in any kind of malicious way. Just a bit of a playful jab. Something you'd been expecting for a loooooong time, and can't fault any party for letting it slip. And it comes, and it's not a big deal, and you part ways, and it still isn't a big deal. And you're driving somewhere and pondering how it really isn't any big deal. And you realize you can't quite shake thinking/analyzing this thing that definitely isn't a big deal at all. But the sheer fact that it simply won't go away is proof enough that there's something there that still needs to be digested, and even then it'll still almost certainly come back up again shortly. One of those cases where your rational and emotional selves are at odds with each other. Kind of intriguing from a spectator's point of view. You know that there's just enough of something there to cast some reasonable doubt and mental discomfort. This isn't a social problem... It's an introspective one.
-Cril

Daft Punk - Derezzed

Wednesday, August 10, 2011

On Such a Timeless Flight

It wasn't until Monday afternoon that I realized I totally neglected to make a post. Completely slipped my mind. I even remember Sunday afternoon/evening. I'd made my lunch for Monday, finished tidying my room and got caught up on some emails. And I thought to myself, "what else is there to do tonight?" And I came up with nothing, so I spent the last few hours of the weekend sketching while I had the Pirates of the Caribbean up on the other monitor. I just finished re-watching the first three films. And despite what the critics seemed to say... I really enjoy the series. I love the strange and twisted folklore, especially. The first half of Dead Man's Chest was pretty terrible, though. It's like the director had schizophrenic fits where he thought what the film really needed was some crappy slap-stick so it could appeal to the kiddies. Never mind the fact that the rest of it was incredibly dark. Still, all things considered, it's a fun and engaging series.

Where was I? Right - drawing and watching movies instead of doing some writing. It's odd, because 90% of the time I always post on a Sunday evening. But I didn't - it completely slipped my mind. Maybe I'm going senile.


Sketch-35

Last week I went out with a coworker for lunch. He's a fairly old guy, 70-something, I think. Anyways, he loaned me a massive book on some WWII fighter aircraft, and eventually told me to keep it. For payment, he requested I pay for a lunch. And for the $17 it took to buy both of us some good eats from a rather tasty chicken and fries joint, I think I came out on top. But anyways, the to-and-from was the most interesting bit. The man has clearly lead a full life and done many more interesting things than I probably will. And between some of the stories, he passed on some advice. Which, quite frankly, I welcome - I'll take whatever tips I can get. I'm still a stupid young man, but hopefully enough of these little tidbits of wisdom will add up to something else.

On this particular occassion, I learned that the secret to a successful relationship was Communication‹communication‹communication‹sex‹money. In that order. It sounds like solid advice, and hopefully some day I'll have a use for it. The other thing he talked about made the largest impact and happened to be the most cliche statement that we've all seen thrown around: Stop and smell the roses.

Our lunch trip happened in two, rather logical steps - going there, and coming back. Most of the first and half of the last pretty much covered my coworker's interests, and more importantly, experiences. He's been around and seen a lot, and this setup really helped drive home that effective nugget of cliche advice. He's practically three times older than I am, and so as we bounced along in his Mazda 4x4 wagon back to the office, it was pretty clear that he knew he was getting near to the end of a different kind of road. So when he told me of the things he'd done and the things he had come to regret and then told me that his number one recommendation is to slow down and make life worth living... It kinda drove home much quicker and farther than the previous 734 times I'd heard that over-used saying.

See, I'm not a botanist or even a gardener at all. Heck, I don't like getting my hands dirty, and I'm not particularly fond of fresh produce either. Needless to say, I have very little use for the aroma emitted by plants. I can appreciate the aesthetics, to a degree, but the smell does not interest me. So when the "stop and smell the roses" phrase comes along, and tend to stop and roll my eyes.

But the man was right. He mentioned how money isn't as important as it's made out to be, and it's not worth working your life away for a little bit of financial security. I see the point, I really do. But I'm not sure if, at this point, I can tear myself away from the driving need to work, work, work and save whatever I can along the way. The thing is... What roses am I missing out on? And, of more concern, I'm starting to become worried that, never mind the flowers, I won't be able to stop at all. Where does it end? I like to keep to telling myself that once I'm done with school, I'm going to go places and do things, dammit. Buying a decent car seems to be the poison of choice for creating some sort of light to look forward to. But really, once I graduate, am I really going to step back from my penny-pinching frenzy? I can see it now. "I'll get the car next year. I just want to have x amount left over in the bank account". And then I'll wait one more year, and I'll put off that one trip, and I'll avoid buying that instrument I wanted to learn. Where does it stop? Will the rest of my life be spent on a $50 monthly entertainment budget? It's what I know, it's what I've trained myself to crave.

And in the mean time, I'll keep working long days and coming home late. I'll stumble straight through the door and in to bed, and won't even notice the roses that'll be obscured by the darkness of the night. Damn roses.

I don't know. I worry that I 'm even turning my recreational/"fun" activities into one more item on my to-do list. The first part of this entry highlights it exactly. I don't need to write. I won't be punished for it, I won't miss out on anything. But here I am, pounding at the keyboard with some sense of obligation. Sure, I still find it enjoyable and cathartic... But still. I should probably sketch. I should probably play and instrument. I should probably do some photography. I should probably _______. Before long, they'll be on the same level as checking the bills and taking the car in for an oil change.

There's the story in Luke 10, where Christ was spending an evening in a house with Mary and Martha. Martha was doing house work, and Mary was speaking with/listening to Jesus. Martha asked him to get Mary to help out, and instead he chastised Martha. “Martha, Martha. Thou art careful and troubled about many things: But one thing is needful: and Mary hath chosen that good part, which shall not be taken away from her”.

I think I may be stuck in some kinda state of perpetual Martha-tude. I keep making busy work for myself, even when there's something amazing and more worthwhile in the next room. And maybe I'm working on changing that special room into something more... Ordinary. And at the end of the day, what will I be left with? A clean house. But an empty house, too.

You can probably chalk a good chunk of these ramblings up to pre-school jitters, if you'd like. But I think that, unfortunately, there may be some sort truth to it. Now if you'll excuse me, I need to get some sketching done.
-Cril

Mars ain’t the kind of place to raise your kids
In fact it’s cold as hell
And there’s no one there to raise them if you did
And all this science I don’t understand
It’s just my job five days a week
A rocket man
A rocket man


And I think it’s gonna be a long long time
Till touch down brings me round again to find
I’m not the man they think I am at home
Oh no no no
I’m a rocket man

Rocket man
Burning out his fuse up here alone


And I think it’s gonna be a long long time...

Elton John - Rocket Man