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