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