Finger Picked

So the house was full - the entirety of the (immediate) family was home. Some were talking, some were helping to prepare a meal. In fact, we had all just lent a hand to bring supper together. As part of a new family tradition, for the last three years we've done handmade pierogies for a post-Christmas dinner. It's a fairly time consuming process, because once the dough and filling has been created, each pierogi has to be made from scratch. So we all help out over the various stages to make a delicious and wonderfully artery-clogging meal. It's quickly turning into a favourite tradition of mine.

Anyways, after I had spent a shift stuffing these mini Ukrainian dumplings I went to the living room to relax by messing around on my mandolin for a bit. Truth be told, ever since I started keeping my ukulele in the studio with me at school, my fingers get kind of itchy for strings to pick. I started playing some rather simple chords, G, D and C in various orders, and practicing my picking. I would play the D and then A strings a couple times, then go up to E and climb back down. That turns into D A D A D A E A over and over again, switching chords every one or two times. Then I complicated it a bit further by alternating between the G and D strings. That turned into G A D A G A D A G A E A D. It caused a rather backfire in my brain, muscles, and various neurons in between, but I finally got it working.

So I played for a bit, pretty pleased with the melody that came floating out as a result of all this utter chaos of internal co-ordination that I had somehow figured out. I tell ya - sometimes operating muscles can be a lot more difficult then you'd think, considering you use the same ones every day without much complaint. You try to make things a tiny bit more interesting, and you suddenly become very conscious of the connection between body and mind, and how one has to trust the other. And as weird as that sounds, it's true. Muscles trusting the brain seems pretty straightforward. "Hey, finger muscles, I need to to move like x so I can accomplish y." The real frightening bit is when it changes to "Ok guys, I told you what I need you to do and how to do it. I'll let you do your thing now." This is the part where you know what you want to do, but you can't quite get it to work quite right. So you think, yeah, I got this figured out, I just need to stop over-thinking and do it. You relax and let your muscles take over. And at first, it's like watching a herd of penguins in those massive sumo suits trying to practice synchronized swimming. Lots of flailing around, making funny noises, and things moving much slower and retarded than you know they should be capable of. But eventually the penguins squirm their way out of the overly-padded suits and do what they do. And when that happens... Music. It's a good feeling.

This post wasn't meant to be about music or the challenges of learning to play an instrument, so I'm going to do a bit of course-correction here.

I was sitting in the chair, plucking away this new melody I'd stumbled upon. And I got to the point where my hands could take over and I could look around. What I saw was the living room being lit by the warm glow of the Christmas tree. Next to it in the reclining chair was my father, who was reading. On the couch was one of my sisters, who was snuggling with her boyfriend. And down at the center of the floor, was my new baby niece who was bundled up and sleeping while her parents were in the next room. And something... Clicked. Something felt right, and it was almost as if the music I was playing had somehow become the gateway to me seeing a larger picture. For appreciating that particular, beautiful moment for what it was. With a clear dark sky outside, upbeat conversation and laughter around the corner, and the smell of frying sausage dancing through the house that smelled of old wood and dust.

It was... Perfect. That's all there is to it. Being exactly where you are and being aware of everything going on around you. Looking at the old man resting in his home, his daughter that is starting her search for her companion, and the sleeping child that's just starting her own journey through life. Circle of life, blah blah blah. Still, it was a pretty profound slice of time to find yourself in. Felt like the curtain had been pulled back another couple inches on this thing that we all experience between birth and death.

And as a musician (of sorts), I found it amazing how the little tune I was plucking was the keystone for this massive experience that happened within the tiny confines of my own mind and no one else. I don't know how to explain it. It's like being hypnotized by your own process of creating something. Not the end result so much as the experience of bringing it to life. And at the same time, it was like taking a step back, looking at the scene before me, and choosing a soundtrack to fit, where that soundtrack is exactly the music I was unfurling. Most of the people that read this (all two of them) will probably think that I'm high or full of crap or stupid or all of the above.  I'm pretty sure I'm not.

It was just a really nice 10 minutes of being alive.
-Cril

Crilix - Sleeping J

Yuletide Bits

Feels good to be home. Except for the part of, you know, actually being in the home, specifically. I'm rather allergic to it. Within half an hour, I notice my breathing starts to become more shallow. A couple hours later, my eyes itch. Shortly following that, my nose starts to run. Sigh. That building is full of so many memories, and I love the sense of peace it gives me to be there with my family. But it's quite the juxtaposition of  states to be in a place that makes you feel at ease emotionally versus falling apart physically. Sigh.

Anyways, Christmas. Good times. It's been the first time in two years that the entire family has been together. Not only that, but we're even +1. Exciting stuff. Lots of talking and sitting around and joking. Joking and smiling, and making eachother laugh. A sense of humour that fits like an old glove. I wish I could take that glove and put it in my pocket and bring it everywhere with me. Hell, or take that glove and wear it everyday.

I'm sitting here trying to figure out how I can record everything, and I have no idea where to start. So I'll just kinda spit it out in random-ish order:

• I've been 'playing' (or just messing around on) the mandolin a lot, which I brought with me, while the family sits around and does whatever. I really enjoy that - having and instrument for my fingers to dance across.
• It's amazing how the energy and focus changed once there was a new baby in the family. She's sickeningly adorable, and no one can take their eyes off of her. Such a little magnet or black hole for attention. You should see the gifts pour in for her.
• Speaking of gifts... Hopefully this will be my last year of not getting any for the family. Time/money/energy seem to be at a premium due to school shinanigans. It makes me feel horrible, but I just can't get it done.
• My brother got me a (rather nice) camera tripod. I'm pretty blown away, and super thankful. Kinda adds on pressure for next year to get on my game...
• My sketchbook is changing. Morphing. It's becoming less... "Draw what you see", and more... Stream of conciousness/patterns/faces/linework/journal. I kinda like it. I keep thinking about how I'm not a great illustrator. I want to keep drawing, sure, but I know I need to focus on my design work and improving that. I wonder how my sketchbook can be used for that. I've also been using an ink pen, and I really dig the line quality of it.
• My family and I spent Christmas Eve at my brother-in-law's parents' place, with his family. It was pretty good - a little bit awkward, but good. They're fairly laid-back people, and we had no problems having conversation and taking it easy. Still made me realize how awkward I can be around people I don't know very well. I keep finding myself thinking, "I gotta fix this. I gotta get better at this." I don't know why I'm so hyper-aware of it right now.
• I'm tired. I have tired all up in my bones. I sleep and sleep, and it's not enough. I had two naps yesterday, even. I've really racked up quite the sleep deficit during this last semester, and I can't quite shake it off.
• Christmas turkey dinner was delicious, as always. But I'm changing - I used to have two, if not three, servings in the past. This year, one was more than sufficient.
• I weighed myself for the first time in a long time. It seems that I've lost ~13lbs over the past semester, on the standard "Stress, bad eating habits, and less sleep" diet.
• My brother, meanwhile, has been super-aware of diet and calories and weight and such. It's quite a foreign mindset to be around, and feels odd considering how close we used to be with our terrible eating habits. This change is by no means a bad thing. Just different.
• Because I'm allergic to the family house (and therefore my room and my bed), I've been staying with my brother. It's pretty nice. Again, the widening gap in living habits is kind of... Unsettling in a way, but we still get along pretty well. I've been having a good time while we pick up some Minecraft (still addicting), browse Steam (too many games, not enough time), run errands (yaaay groceries) and this evening make lists of albums, comics and movies we should listen/read/watch (I'm going to be busy for many years to come).
• I went shopping, briefly, with my brother and sister. We took a quick peek through one of the bigger malls, and there was a first nations group performing some traditional dance and music in protest of some bill. I have no idea what bill it was, but I hope those natives lose their cause, just for the sheer volume of what they were doing. It was painful - the sound reverberating into every store, and it seriously hurt my hearing after ~15mins. I mean, hey, good on them for using the democratic tools and their disposal and expressing their concerns in a traditional way, but... Damn. That place did not have the acoustics to handle that kind of sound in a comfortable (or safe) way.
• I've formatted my laptop and a kit to double my RAM. My laptop is going to be on top of its game for the final semester.
• I'm stressin' out. I need to:
• Reply to many emails
• Find a name + URL for a portfolio site, make a portfolio site
• Fix up old pieces and start gathering portfolio pieces for a shoot
• Talk to a friend about the freelance work he needs me to do
• Change my home insurance provider
• Start thinking about the project for next semester
• SLEEP
• Find time to cook dinner for friends
• Book an optomitrist appointment
• Figure out when extended medical coverage ends 
• At one point on Christmas, I was so stuffed up and my breathing was becoming so shallow that I had to get out and get some air. So I put on some music and went for a stroll. I found myself walking down the middle of main-street, smack-dab center of the road. It was dark, with mostly full moon, a starry sky, and whisps of clouds being blown by the chill winds. Florence and The Machine sang through my earbuds. Not a soul was to be seen, up or down the road. It was perfect.

So, uh, yeah. I'm glad to be home for a bit, but... I'm still kinda tired and have a lot of stuff to get done. It's scary how the days are just flying by. So much to do, so much to do. And then in four more months, that will no longer be the case. Can't wait.

One thing at a time.
-Cril

Brian Setzer Orchestra - The Nutcracker Suite

End of Semester Fragments

Yay, seven semesters down, one to go. The end of this one was pretty brutal - the stress/anxiety was so bad at some points that I was having a tough time hunkering down to concentrate. But I got through it. I think my projects turned out okay. One of which, a book of infographs about cars, I'm pretty proud of. Mostly. I think. I'm terrible about feeling confident about such things, but I think it's okay.

Anyways, I'm pretty exhausted and I have a lot of sleep to catch up on. But I've been keeping track of odd ideas that I wanted to write down, so I'll cover the three most recent.

First, there's this girl I know. I think she's maybe 9 or 10, and she's the daughter of an awesome husband and wife I used to work with. They'd bring her in with her sister to work some days, and at the beginning she was super shy. She was maybe 7ish at the time. But she eventually warmed up to the staff, and she was a lot of fun to be around. Whenever she'd be in the office because she had a day off of school, I'd give her grief about skipping class. I'd generally just goof around with her - she's the textbook definition of cute and innocent, and she's pretty bright too. She has me added to her GTalk client, and from time to time she logs in and says hello. It puts a smile on my face every time. She's an awesome kid, and it's a treat to get to yak for a little bit every now and again. I know that we'll eventually drift apart entirely and she'll turn into some kinda teenage teenager, but... Still. She's a fun person to interact with.

About two weeks ago I was in the studio, and things were coming due pretty quick. I was stressed out, everyone was stressed out. So I took a quick break from my work, grabbed my friends guitar, and sat at the front of the class with my feet up on the big desk, and played for a little bit. In particular, I played a little song I had written. The only song I've written, really, and even that's being a bit generous. It's more of a simple little tune I came up with that that uses all of three strings. I've toyed around with it and found a rhythm, picking pattern, and basic melody/progression that I felt worked. So it is something I've put some time into it, and it's simple, and it means a little something to me. So anyways, I sat there and played it out at the front of the class, while there were a half-dozen or so students in the studio working on their own things, not really paying attention. And when I finished, one girl turned to me and said, "That was really beautiful, Chris." And another echoed, "Yeah, that was really good." And really, it wasn't anything special from a technical standpoint. But it felt really good to have someone recognize when you put a bit of yourself into something.

Just last week, while we were working away late in the studio a mere two days before a project was due, I helped people out here and there. Pitched some ideas, helped to flesh-out some concepts, gave some technical tips, gave a hand with production... Just trying to chip in and give a hand to everyone else that was just as stressed as I was. At one point in the evening, I gave a classmate a particularly helpful idea for a quote to pair with some video footage. My best friend in the school turned to me and told me, "Chris, you are the best man I know, you know that? I say that in all honesty". And coming from a person that I respect and admire in more than a few ways... It meant a lot. It meant a lot not only be a good influence on some of the people around me, but so much so that someone had to point it out to me.

On an unrelated note, during the last day of class where we all take turns getting up to present our projects, I kept myself awake by doing quick sketches/caricatures of every student that went up. I ended up drawing all ~40 people in my program, including the profs. And damn, my drawing skills are out of shape. Kind of a fun (but exhausting) exercise, though.

Anyways, I'm rambling. If I don't start paying off this sleep debt sooner than later, I'm going to have my sleep knees broken by the sleep loan shark's sleep goons.
-Cril

Pilote - Turtle [Bonobo Mix]

One More Lap of the Solar System

Sucks that I haven't posted in so long. School, homework, workload, blah blah blah, etc etc.

And this post is gunna be pretty quick.

I just want to say that it's pretty awesome to have a few people know and care about your birthday without having to say/do anything. Although I have a Facebook profile (that I seldom use), I made a point of not making my birthdate visible. I can't stand the half-hearted well-wishes from people that I haven't even talked with in a year. Seems kinda... Superficial.

And on the other end of the spectrum, I have a friend that ordered a movie for me. I have an uncle and aunt that took me out for Peruvian cuisine (each year for my birthday they take me to a different international restaurant, and it's quickly becoming a favourite tradition to go for food that I've never had before and don't know what to expect). They even gave me a small tuner for instruments. Then there's my classmate/buddy/bro/pal, who arrived to class with a big ol' slab of chocolate cake with eight candles. Just to know that he remembered and went a little bit out of his way for it made me feel good. Overall, they all might be overly grandiose gestures but... It's good to know that I have some friends and family that care. It's a damn fine feeling.

Anyways. Time to get back at it.
-Cril

You say it's your birthday
Well it's my birthday too, yeah
You say it's your birthday
We're gonna have a good time
I'm glad it's your birthday
Happy birthday to you

Beatles - Birthday

Dark Black Rum and Fishing Boats

"Thunk" is the approximate sound my head made when it struck the underside of my desk as I tried to sit underneath it. You know things are going really well when your prof says "I 1000 percent appreciate what you're trying to do, but..."

Bleh. One of those crits that just... Sucks the wind right out of your sails. After flogging this stupid publication project for a solid two months, I was hoping I'd be doing something right, but instead the best I get is "well, your thinking is good."

At the end of last week in branding class the two profs had all the students together and asked how things were going. So after some awkward silence, I said how it seemed that everyone I talked to was really concerned with the workload, particularly from the publication course. Immediately following this comment, I got no backup from anyone else in the class. And I continued to get no backup while the profs gave a 15 minute ramble on the importance of time management, delivered in my particular direction. And no one else spoke up.

Ugh. I felt (and feel) like an idiot. Made myself out to be a whiner, I guess. Lesson learned: keep thy mouth shut and trust not thy companions for backup.

I'm just feelin' pretty discouraged at the moment. Really not feeling good about the quality of work and the resulting (lack of) prospects of my portfolio.

I'll get through it. It sucks that I might need to churn out some less-than-decent pieces just to meet guidelines and pass the class, but... A pass is a pass, and I'll have all the time in the world to fix things up after I graduate. It just sucks that I'm working so hard to get it right now, but I can't quite hit the mark.
-Cril

Weddings, wakes and funerals
Might be heaven and it might be hell - depends
But there's one thing that I do know
You'll have your fill before you go, Amen 

Rankin Family - Weddings, Wakes, and Funerals

And I'm Still in a Basement, Oddly Enough

So I slept about, oh, 1.5, maybe even 2 hours last night. Nevertheless, I got up and went about the morning duties while I felt the blood drain from my face, disappearing to wherever the energy I didn't have was hiding. Then I got me to campus, put on my best impression of Someone Who Is Conscious, and got on with the day. I dunno how, but I survived. I'm about to go crawl into bed, though. But first I had an interesting idea float into my sleep-deprived, deflated brain.

Right after I graduated, I spent about... 4 years doing very little with my life. Sure, I was working full time and I did two semesters of general studies, but I was mostly a zombie for the entire experience. I spent a lot of time alone in the basement playing video games. I only need one hand to count the amount of times I went out with friends. I need about half a hand to count said friends. So I worked and gamed. The only thing of substance that comes to mind is that I started drawing regularly every day and that I managed to save 90% of the money I earned.

So I look back at the little zombie I was... And I wonder to myself what those years meant. I want to write it off and say that, as a whole, I did very little that was worth-while over that period. Four years is a long time to spend every evening playing whatever it was that captivated me before going to bed, working the next day, and then repeating the whole process over. There's not a lot of substance there. Fun and distraction, sure... But not a whole lot of livin' goin' on.

But, at the same time... I started drawing regularly every day and I managed to save 90% of the money I earned. Without those two things there's not a doubt in my mind that I would've got myself into art school to pursue a Bachelor's degree in graphic design (that experience and its impact is in and of itself way too big for this post). So if those years of idleness set the foundation for where I am now, doing something worthwhile, does that mean it was a waste? I took advantage of that time to work and save and learn to draw (which I think is one of the most impactful decisions on my life I ever made, and if you're reading this Frank, I credit you for it). These things really opened a lot of possibilities. So it was all worth it, right?

Well... I'm still not sure. Because I look back and there are SO MANY things I wish I would've done with myself. I wish I would've learned a new musical instrument, or traveled, or got a car I'd learn how to repair, or met people, or saw movies, or ate out, or find a girl to like, or worked out, or gone on road trips, or gone to concerts, or ______. There's so much that was left undone that, longs story short, I've now learned to realize that I'm missing out on the hard way.

So what if I just narrow it down to the money thing in particular? If I would've done those things, I wouldn't have had nearly as much savings, if any at all. But it all would've gone to something worthwhile, no? There are always loans for school. I could've used all that to go places and do things.

Bleh, I don't know. There are a whole lot of 'if' questions that come with this particular avenue of pondering. I almost want to stop and define what exactly I mean when I say "worthwhile". The past is past, and there's no use bleeding over it, I guess. The only thing to do is to learn something from it and keep it with you while pressing forward.

I'm feeling oddly introspective and philosofikle at the moment, and I could just keep on going and going. So many thoughts in this jumbled, slushy head o' mine. I need to sleep.

I think my main point, though, is that I still gots lots of livin' to do yet.
-Cril

David Holmes - Don't Die Just Yet

Busted Valve

So near the end of the semester, there's usually this all-encompassing sense of dread and anxiety, as I stress about... Everything. And I'm currently saddled with said feeling right about now. I swear, I'm going to have a stroke if I have to go for the next two months like this. There is an unbelievable amount of work. I just need to keep telling me that I need to throttle back and simplify my projects. They won't be done anywhere near how I'd like them to be, and my portfolio will be crap once I graduate, but I'll have the time I need after that I fix it all up.

Anyways. I was in the studio all day today (...and yesterday) and sat and talked with a friend and another close classmate. We were discussing various topics, and I made the observation that someone once said something along the lines of "we are the average of the five people we spend the most amount of time around." And then the other two stopped, and tried to pinned down who their closest five people were. I tried to do the same, but came up short. I got about as far as two or three before I ran out. There are other people in my life, sure, but I don't spend a particularly significant amount of time around them. And what happens if that means 60% of your average self is based on no one? That's reflected in how you think/act, methinks. I get the sense that not spending time around anyone means that... You spend more time alone. And your "average you" skews towards introverted/antisocial/shy. Maybe. Just a thought, but the idea intuitively seems to have merit.

Another thing that came up in our conversation was what our personal release valve is. The classmate said for her it was martial arts, which she hadn't done in a long time. My friend said alcohol (in a sad but true tone) and spending time with friends. My release valve, after a moment of pondering... Is/was driving.

The last month and a half and a bit has been really hard on me in that regard. I miss my car. I miss driving. I find myself staring in fascination at every Integra that floats by, and holding my breath and looking away whenever the bus travels by where the accident took place. I was to feel the vibration of the engine through the shifter, and the roads bumps and nuances through the steering wheel. And I desperately, hopelessly want to be able to plug in my music and just go.

But I can't. I need to get this insurance thing figured out, which is difficult considering how NO ONE WILL RETURN MY PHONE CALLS. And I'm getting worried that it's going to be too late to do anything, considering how much time has passed. But the plan this week is to leave a message every day, and if that doesn't work, I'm going to go down to the insurance office and camp out until someone, anyone talks to me.

Sigh. The worst part is that dealing with this stuff... Brings up all the emotional crap tied to the accident.

I miss driving. I miss driving a lot. I want my release valve back.
-Cril

Wading through the waste stormy winter
And there's not a friend to help you through
Trying to stop the waves behind your eyeballs
Drop your reds drop your greens and blues

Thank you for your wine, California
Thank you for your sweet and bitter fruits
Yes, Ive got the desert in my toenail
And hid the speed inside my shoe

But come on come on down sweet Virginia
Come on honey child I beg of you

Come on come on down you got it in you
Got to scrape that shit right off your shoes

Rolling Stones - Sweet Virginia

Get Yoself in da Game, Head

"This weekend I'm going to buckle down, concentrate, and power through some homework. It's time to stop slacking off, and really try to get back on top of things."

I've said that about two or three times now. It's kind of scary how much trouble I'm having really getting focused as the semester is picking up. It ain't funny any more folks, I REALLY have stuff I need to have solid progress on.

For Friday's class, we're branding a made-up product. We were supposed to have a brand name, logo sketches, and rough packing layouts ready to go. I worked ALL Thursday evening and ALL Friday morning leading up to my crit with the prof. What did I have to show for it? A name. That's it. Oh, well, I suppose I threw in some last-minute design inspirations for the direction I wanted to pursue. But, yeah. Nowhere near what I wanted to have done.

And here I am now, working on a book/publication for Monday. My goal was to have 2-3 spreads fairly completed. Instead, I'll be lucky if I have one done.

Procrastination, ha ha ha, you so funny.

...except I hate you.

Part of me is really looking forward to getting submersed in the work - staying at the studio late every night. Hunkered down with a crappy ol' cuppa noodle for supper, plugging away until it's time for me to go grab the last bus. I want that total submersion, not only to make the most of my fourth and final year of school, but to escape away from a bucket load of other things on my mind. People problems, thing problems, future problems. 99 Problems, Plus One. Or two, even.

Even worse, part of me inside is SCREAMING to be done. To be finished. I am so damn sick of having homework hang over my head every evening and day and weekend. I'm looking forward so much to not have this problem any more. I'm looking forward to getting a car. And learning to play the mandolin. And stay up late playing video games with friends and clanmates on a Friday night. And getting a macro lens, and drawing, and planning trips/adventures, and generally trying to make up for many years of my life that went unlived. That's right, I'm practically the walking dead.

Sigh. That desperate feeling of freedom right around the corner makes me feel like I'm going to burst. What I really need, though, is to cram that into a tiny box, and throw a lock around it, and focus on my work. Work, work, work. Just gotta survive for a bit longer. Please, just help me survive a bit longer.
-Cril

Ucieknê od przepaœci
Tych ramion z których siê nie wyrwê nigdy ju¿
Od jezior twoich oczu
Utopiê siê gdy wskoczê
Ucieknê bo
Nie mogê tak dalej
Ucieknê st¹d
Jak mogê najdalej
Ucieknê od pu³apki orchidei ust

Goran Bregovic - Spij Kochanie, Spij

Premise Line

So a couple of weeks ago I was presented with a complimentary ticket to attend a workshop by John Turby on story telling. Basically, it was a lecture spanning over three days that established the fundamental elements of crafting narrative, particularly with a focus on popular film. Really, though, a lot of the teachings felt pretty universal.

How the main character always needs to have a fundamental weakness that they need to resolve, and a how everything is driven by their desire to a reach a particular goal. How they need an opponent in order to grow, and how the hero can only be as strong as the opponent. An opponent who essentially has desire for the same thing as the hero; this is ultimately what brings them together. And the best antagonist you can have is one that is intimate with the main character and is the one that best knows how to exploit their weakness. The path along the way is full of allies (that will confront the main character along the way when their motives aren't pure), false ally enemies (that will try to derail him and exploit his weakness) and false enemy allies (that will help him along and provide insight into the main opponent). The main character eventually creates a plan he needs to fulfill in order to defeat the opponent and fill his desire. How this all culminates in a battle between the two, and how the hero has a self-revelation about himself, bringing understanding about the situation and who he truly is/meant to be. If he has this revelation before the decisive moment, he rises and becomes a greater individual after attaining his desire. If this comes after... He falls to a lower state than he was at the beginning. And in either case, a new equilibrium is reached and status-quo established.

That's the gist of about 18hrs of lectures condensed into a single paragraph. And that's not even touching on other MASSIVE parts that were talked about, like dialogue and genre.



Needless to say, after being bombarded with such an incredible amount of information over a relatively tiny strip of time, my head was doing funny things. I was thinking of everything in terms of story structure and genre. Including... Myself.

And that's when I began to wonder... What story do I have to tell? What's my weakness, and who's my opponent? Sure, these are all tools for crafting a narrative, but in my overwhelmed and sleep-deprived state, I began trying to piece myself together from this new point of view. What is my desire line? What am I trying to achieve, and do I have any kind of plan? Allies? False ally enemies/enemy allies? What self-revelations have I had/will I have, and what battles are before me? Do I fall or do I rise once all is said and done?

For some reason, I really want to craft a story using this framework to explain who and where I am right now. First, because it'd be a fun exercise. Second, because I think this structure really forces me to identify and confront various aspects of who I am as a person. If nothing else, how would I boil me and my story into a premise? A premise is supposed lay out an inciting event, the main character, and final outcome. There are a million different possibilities from this. "By moving into a new province to sweep floors in a robotics business, a quiet highschool graduate stumbles onto a love of art." "After enrolling at art school, an introverted shut-in finds himself wondering the streets of New York alone." "As he works through his final year of art-school, a dedicated workaholic ultimately ends up ______."

So many stories to tell. I wonder what mine would be. I wonder what it'd be like to be someone else looking at me in my entirety and be able to sum up who I am, what part of me is unique/interesting, and boil it down into a story. I think it'd be an interesting exercise I'd like to embark on once I graduate and have more time. A written self portrait, of sorts.

That all being said... I have a new found respect for writers and their craft. It's unbelievable the amount of work that has to go into creating a story from scratch so that it hits all the "beats" of a story (there's the fancy new jargon I got from the lecture), and keep track of everything. I have no clue how I'm going to apply what I learned to my own line of work in graphic design-type-stuff. But I know that I won't be able to watch movies or watch books the same way again. And I certainly have a new lens to focus and zoom in on myself and try to decipher some sort of bigger picture. What story do I have to tell, indeed...
-Cril

Michael Giacchino - Labor of Love

Back at 'er

Ah, school. It's kinda nice to be back, in a truly loathsome way. After just a few classes, I once again feel like a doofus that realizes he barely knows what he's doing. There's a class where we need to create and market a new product. There's a lot of emphasis on the customer and target market, and I find myself struggling to really have my head in the game and doing something, anything that the professors don't need to give me major corrections on. I'm just not finding this level of strategizing very intuitive.

Mind you, I'm finding that the 4th year profs are really... Hesitant to give you any concrete feedback. Lots of "it's up to you" and "go with your gut". And I see the point - if we're supposed to be independent designers, we need to be able to pick a direction and pursue it. But at the same time, I feel like I don't know how to identify what directions are the strongest, and that I'll probably working with other designers that'd say "yeah, I think this works best - go with it." And not to mention that, as a graphic designer, it seems a bit far fetched for me to be deciding what products should be making it to market.

The program heads seem pretty bent on making us "content creators", though. So not only do we make it look purdy, but we make it itself. I see where they're going with it - it'll make us way more valuable to clients for being able to make said content, but it'll help us to better understand existing content. I think that, ideally, they're training us to be creative directors, but... I feel as though that's being really optimistic. Realistically, I think a slim fraction of us will ever progress to that point. Seriously, I can't imagine that there are enough creative director positions created each year within the country to support that kind of growth coming out of art/design institutions.

So there you have it - going back to school makes me feel kinda dumb and I have doubts as to the kind of career I'll be able to find after I'm done. That being said, this week I somehow got a scholarship given out to the top 1.5-2% of the program. The money, while nice, is kind of secondary to the realization that I'm one of the top students in my degree, if not the top student. That blows my mind more than a little bit, especially considering that I don't look at my grades and I work two part-time jobs. Something tells me that, just maybe, I'll turn out okay after I graduate...
-Cril

Coldplay - Life in Technicolor

The gun, the gun, the gun, the gun

So through some crazy turn of events, it seems that my long-dead gaming clan is having some sort of post-mortem spasms. We used to primarily be a Counter-Strike community (particularly for 1.6 and earlier), and by the time CS:Source rolled around, we were starting to dissipate a bit. And between the creation of a Facebook page and the recent release of CS:GO, it seems like we're keeping in touch and (gasp!) spending in-game time together. We've even got a server. And a website/forum refresh to boot.

It's a really good feeling to see some of these people still kicking around, and getting to spend some (digital) time with them. There used to be so much politics and drama, and now... There are a bunch of people messing around, joking, and having a good time. And remembering the good times, too.

I don't know if it'll stay like this, if people will keep on playing or resume posting in the forums. I hope they do. I'm glad I got to do some fragging with them while I could, before school gets too crazy. Here's hoping that they'll still be around if/when I emerge from the other side of my education.

Anyways, it's been a weird day. I've been in a bit of a concentration-less limbo. Floated around between a bunch of different activities and thoughts. School's starting off a bit slow, so I'm stuck in this weird mode where I don't have lots of homework, but I'm too scared stiff to actually sit back and enjoy the lack thereof. I'm sure it'll all change soon enough.
-Cril

Then describe it

He came toward meWith a pistol?
From my bureau

Did you fight him?
Like a tiger
He had strength and she had none

And yet we both reached for the gun
Oh yes, oh yes, oh yes we both
Oh yes we both
Oh yes, we both reached for
The gun, the gun, the gun, the gun
Oh yes, we both reached for the gun
For the gun

Oh yes, oh yes, oh yes they both
Oh yes, they both
Oh yes, they both reached for
The gun, the gun, the gun, the gun,
Oh yes, they both reached for the gun
For the gun

 

Christine Baranski/Cleve Asbury/Renée Zellweger/Richard Gere/Rick Negron/Suaun Amyot - We Both Reached for the Gun

Beverly, and Her Plaque on a Bench by the River

We've all seen those benches. You know, the ones with those little plaques that dedicates this fantastical seat to a person. Sometimes we even read further than the "Dedicated in memory to..." to actually find out what name is attached. But we sit, we read or rest or admire the scenery or eat or people watch, and then we get up and move on with our day. And hey, apparently that bench was dedicated to someone or something. How sweet.

But have you really ever stopped to think what that little square of engraved metal actually means? What it represents?

I was walking around a park by my hotel in Saskatoon, and it was full of grey and green benches, each one with its own such plaque. Lots of names and dates and 'loving father/friend/mother/brother/sister'. And then I stumbled on one that read "In memory of the love we shared. Beverly Ann Newman. 1953-2010." It brought my lazy walk to a screeching halt.



Those few words can't even begin to hint at the rich story behind how this message found its way to a park bench. Hell, to even call it a story doesn't even do it justice. These twelve words, smaller than your average Tweet, represent a whole life. No, even greater - it opens up a window the tiniest crack into two lives.

Beverly Ann Newman was a soul in a body and journeyed through life just like the rest of us. She woke up on cold, grey mornings and would sigh at the unexpected and gloomy rain. She combed her hair before going to work. She licked her fingers after eating greasy chicken, laughed at the stupid joke she heard from a friend, and raised her head, with eyes closed, to greet the sun on the warmest of spring mornings. And in the fall, she could breathe in and smell the first scent of the coming snowfall.

And one day she met someone. And they fell in love. And they spent minutes, hours, in silence as they stared into each other's eyes. And they bantered while waiting for the red light to change while they were on their way to a favourite restaurant. They licked their fingers after eating the sticky food on their plates, and they told each other stupid jokes to see the other smile, and they turned their heads out of the biting winter wind and held each other close as their feet went crunch, crunch, crunch through the snow and ice. And some days they'd just stop to watch the river flow by, resting their heads on eachother.

And one day when she was just 57, Beverly Ann Newman died. And her greatest love wept bitterly in the hospital, and bitterly at the funeral, and bitterly as a form was filled out to sponsor a municipal park bench by the river they had visited together. And sighed heavily when first sitting on the bench that now bore the name of a now-lost love.

I don't know who Beverly Ann Newman was, what she was like, the colour of her hair, or what kind of music she liked. I don't even know who she left behind, and how heavy their heart must've felt when this simple little piece of engraved metal was the best way they could declare to the world a simultaneous sorrow lamenting a period of shared, pure joy.

But looking at that small sign, I know that Beverly and her love lived and experienced every drop of this human experience as I have or can ever feel.

That's a lot of responsibility for twelve lonely words on a green and grey park bench.
-Cril

As I walk away
I look over my shoulder
To see what I'm leaving behind

Pieces of puzzles
And wishes on eyelashes fail

Oh
How do I show all the love
Inside my heart

Well this is all new
And I'm feeling my way through the dark

KT Tunstall - Through the Dark

What I Did('nt Do) With My Summer

So school starts tomorrow. As usual, I'm feeling rather uneasy about everything. Nervous for the start of another year of late nights and instant disgusto-noodle suppers. But it's my last year, right? That's gotta count for something - in theory, this will be the last time that September should have particularly uncomfortable connotations. But alongside these unfortunate associations that grate against the wall of my brain, I inevitably find myself questioning if I have made the most of my summer.

Four months ago, I made myself a set of worth-while goals, like

• draw once a day for the first two months.
• work on design stuff for the last two months.
• do a self-branding identity.
• create a portfolio website.
• go to an optometrist.
• finish a dormant personal art-ish piece.
• clean out some crap in my closets.
• run 5km in 20 minutes or less.
• work my way through a long set of guitar lessons.
• become more fluent with the mandolin.
• get some new/better-fitting clothes.
• work 60 hours/week to save for school.
• spend a day in the park by the river with a friend, playing instruments.
• play some Battlefield 3 with another friend. 
• drive a solo day trip out to nowhere.

I got part way through the first goal before petering out. I did spend a few morning playing instruments with a friend, and a few hours here and there doing some gaming. But the rest of those, for the most parts were barely touched, if at all. I failed miserably.

But then I stopped and thought... What about all the things I did do? Such as

• spent five weeks in charge at the office while the bosses were away.
• went to Vancouver for a business trip.
• went to Prince George for a few days to meet with my grandparents.
• got tossed around by heart problems (or, shall I say, problems of the heart).
• crashed/totalled a car.
• bought and started to become comfortable shooting with a DSLR.
• bought and started playing a melodica.
• went on my first vacation.
• got my dentist work up to date (over 5 or so appointments).
• wrote/produced a 10,000 word analysis report at work.
• worked 50hrs/week.
• connected with close friends I hadn't spent time with in a while. Held a baby for the first time.
• read a novel for the first time in a long time.
• house sat for four weeks, dog sat for one (two dogs, mind you).

And so I find myself wondering... Is that good enough? Is it okay that I didn't accomplish my goals when I ended up doing so much else? I know that the car accident totally threw a stick in the spokes of my summer, and pushed me off a ledge into a pretty nasty depression. It was so debilitating that I couldn't draw or write or run for quite some time. Needless to say, totaling the car robbed me of my solo day trip, too. There also was a lot of interpersonal upheaval that I struggled through.

The things that brought me the most satisfaction, though, was the time I spent doing things with other people. It's probably the least solitary I've been since... Sometime in highschool, probably. But sitting and joking around, making music together, sitting still and enjoying the scenery, going on odd drives around the city, sharing a movie, sharing a meal, gaming, chatting, discussing all things great and trivial... I found it unusually satisfying. Spending time with other people is important, methinks. I still needed (and craved) my moments of isolation, but some days being with good company was the best I could ask for.

But I didn't do my portfolio site or fix my pieces or make an identity, like a good little design student should've. Compounded by the fact that I didn't find an internship, I feel like a bit of a failure standing at the onset of a new school year without having done much of anything to improve my career-type prospects. Sigh.

It was a long and hard summer, but I feel like I didn't do enough. This kind of time is such a gift that I'm convinced I've squandered, knowing how busy I'm about to come. And yet, in eight months it'll be like every week is a summer week because I won't have to work stupid hours to stay on top of things. The prospect of that kinda blows my mind.

But still. This summer wasn't a total write-off.

...right?
-Cril

Moby - Slow Light

Relax and Float Down Stream

So I went on vacation. This is actually kind of a big deal, for two reasons. First, because I haven't done so in a couple of years, trying to take the opportunity to work as much as I can so I can pay for education-type pursuits. Second, it was a big deal because it was my first independent vacation.

True, I planned and went on this trip with my brother. But it wasn't to visit a location that my parents had determined, it wasn't tagging along with relatives for a weekend trip, it wasn't for some school planned shindig. We said "hey, let's do a vacation-thing", we planned it, we carried it out. Considering my age and the fact that this is the first time I've done anything of the sort, it's kind of sad.

And this vacation, unfortunately, cost money. Of which I've been spending far too much over the last four months. I'm supposed to be saving for school, and instead I've been failing miserably.

Anyways. We decided to drive down to Portland for no other reason than I had heard that Portland's a neat place to be. And Seattle is on the way, so why no check that out too? And hey, apparently the Oregon coast is kinda nice, so maybe we could try that while we were at it.

That's about as much as we had figured out when the hotels were booked. We had a few other notions for things to do, but those weren't really cemented until days before we actually drove down.

I flew into a small local airport, where my brother was set to pick me up before we'd leave the next morning. He was late, so I was left by myself at the baggage carousel while people milled around waiting for their belongings to arrive. I was idly strumming and plucking away at the ukulele I had in my hands for some time before a gentlemen about 6-7 meters away called for me to play. So I did. Nothing fancy, just sauntering through the same chord progressions I had already been doing, but now with a bit more gusto. As if I was letting the notes acknowledge that they had a right to exist and be heard. Some people stole quick glances at me before turning away. I think that, for the most part, no one really cared. That old man didn't say anything or look my way again. But there's something in how he simply told me to "play" that stuck with me.

The next day we left from the Fraser Valley and went to the Sumas border crossing into the United States. The sign said the wait was 5-10 minutes. It took us about an hour and a half to finally get to the crossing itself, which we were ushered through in the course of about 45 seconds. We got some cheap-o American gas, drove, picked up some snacks, and then drove some more. In our small, black (or dark grey) Hyundai of a heat box, we drove right into the tail-end of a heat wave. You knew it was warm when putting your hand/arm out of the window while driving 60mph instantly made you feel hotter than keeping inside the mobile Korean sauna. Blech. But we powered through it.

We got into Portland in the late afternoon, and went to Powell's Books in downtown Portland. It's a MASSIVE book store, with huge departments for various genres. There were sections devoted to both WWII Aviation and WWII Aircraft. That was difficult to be pried away from. There was also a healthy art/design section. The rare books room was fascinating (hand made publications that were ~600 years old...). And, of course, there was a healthy science-fiction section. It reminded me of going book shopping with my Aunt as a kid. For Christmas she'd usually treat us out for a day, which included raiding book shops for some fresh sci-fi (particularly Star Wars). And that smell of books and paper immediately flooded back to me when I stepped into this massive bookstore. One of the cool things about Powell's Books is that they have new and used stock sitting side by side. I picked up a compilation of all four Hitchicker's Guide to the Galaxy books. I chose a used blue hardcover with frayed and slightly yellowed pages. It was cheaper, sure, but it felt like it had more of a story behind it than just the Adam' finely crafted words. I liked that feeling of caring for something that had already once been very loved.

With 4-5 books between the two of us, we paid and went to check into the hotel. We noticed that it had a pool, and decided that after supper we'd go for a swim to de-grease after the hot and sticky drive. So after much humming and haw-ing, we Googled up a local mexican restaraunt (which, on the US west coast, seem to be every other block). The cuisine was delicious. Slightly expensive, but good nonetheless. I ate more than I should've. A younger me wouldn't have struggled with it. Either way, we returned to the hotel, where I collapsed on the bed until morning. We didn't go swimming.

The next day we got up bright and early, scarfed down the continental breakfast, and fled the city in a westward direction to go to the Evergreen Air and Space Museum. All we knew is that they had the Spruce Goose, some WWII stuff, and some rocket/space stuff. And wowza, we weren't disappointed. The Goose itself was worth the $15 admission. The thing is MASSIVE. Like, massively massive. Comically so. As if it was a joke to say "Hahaha, wouldn't it be hilarious if someone made a plane THIS BIG?!" Or, alternatively, it's the stuff you'd see in fantasy or science fiction works, where they conjure up these morbidly colossal contraptions of scale that defies all reason. It was that big. Entire planes could fit underneath a single tail. Collections under a wing. No kidding, there was a B-17, that was positively dwarfed by the thing.

Oh, the B-17. Gorgoeus plane as-is. But we were there shortly before noon, when the sun came pouring in from the overhead skylights, and draped itself upon the bare, polished aluminum of the beautiful beast. My word. I don't think I've seen such a moving and awe-inspiriing aviation sight in person. The way that the rivits glittered, and the reflections waltzed along the fuselage... Truly amazing. The gem of the trip, for sure.




The rest of the collection was impressive, no doubt. There was a Spitfire, but it was painfully tucked into a far corner so that you couldn't get around it. A lot of other common sights of the 1940's European skies: A Lightning, Mustang, Warhawk, FW190, BF109, ME262, etc etc. Then there were some jets and helicopter stuff. Cool, sure, but it doesn't quite capture my heart the same way as the old warbirds. The space side of things was more to my brother's liking, with a bunch of rockets and... Space stuff. There were a lot of engines on display, which were pretty cool just for their textures and patterns of mechanical wizardry. They had a Blackbird there, which was cool to walk around. And for some reason, there was also a Mustang Mach 1. A bit out of place, but hey, no complaints there.

We walked around the perimeter of the grounds, inspecting the weathered aircraft that wern't so lucky as to deserve a place indoors, before heading out. We stopped at a fruit stand on the way out, having fresh cherries and blueberries for lunch alongside some small 6" fruit pies. Good stuff - not an elegant meal by any stretch, but no less delicious. While we were making our selection, an elderly couple approached us and mentioned they saw us in the museum. We exchanged brief, friendly remarks about the phenominal collection before parting ways and heading back into the city.

We went to the science center, OMSI. It was $2 for admission and $3 for parking, so why not? There were a lot of kids, it was busy. I remember when I was younger, those types of museums would totally capture my imagination and seemed like such an incredible place to me. Now... Not so much. That magic has gone. There was some to be found in the odd glimpse when you got one workstation/exhibit to yourself for a few precious seconds before the next kid came up and took charge, but those were pretty rare. Oh well.

Then we walked around the city for a solid hour and a half. Admired the architecture. Observed how young the people on the streets seemed to be (our age, probably, but as outsiders we seemed more than a little disconnected from them). The city is gorgeous, with a beautiful river, cobbled streets, trees. Lots of little shops. Packs of homeless people. Friends in a park. Lots of bridges, running back and forth over the waterways as if someone had thrown down a handful of limp spaghetti noodles and then exclaimed "CITY PLANNING!" It was terrible getting back and forth, and it was made worse by the construction that forced us to take a 15 minute detour just to perform a U-turn and get back to the exit we had missed.

Then we went into a sandwhich shop for supper before heading back towards the hotel. On the way we picked up some drinks and a cooler, so that our precious beverages that were kept in the fridge wouldn't fall victim to the brutal heat.

The next day we got up and scarfed down some more continental breakfast ("Mmm, tastes like free!") before starting our drive to Seattle. Rather than taking the main freeway, though, we decided to go west until we hit the coast and turned northward. On our way to the coast, we drove through the Tilamook Forest. Lots of trees and hills and other such nature things. Early on, we were triving and caught flashing glimpses of a little stream hiding behind the line of trees at the side of the road. After a couple of these teasing glances, we hastily pulled over at the next small rest stop (more than anything it was just an abnormally large shoulder with enough pavement to accomodate a parked car out of the line of highway traffic).

We got out, stumbled down the embankment, and came upon an incredibly peaceful and picturesque slice of nature. Moss, trees, rocks, and a babbling little brook. Water cascaded through smooth stones, and paused to form pools that went for green to blue to black with the depth. It was seredipitous that we stumbled on something that incredible after stopping on a whime at the side of the road. It was a gorgeousmoment. I felt like I was eight years old again. And if we didn't have to be anywhere and if I wasn't carrying $1000 in photography equipment, I would've been perfectly content to slip off my shoes, roll up my pantlegs, and go mucking about up and down stream all day. After a time of shooting and just sitting in awe of this inspiring little scene, we scampered back up the embankment, got in the car, and headed out.

The rest of the day was... Long, but wonderful. We stopped at CannonBeach, to gaze up and down the coast, and walk over the sand barefoot. After inhaling the ocean air and breathing in memories from childhood that were full of those familiar scents of the sea, we packed up and continued on the road.

For all of ten minutes, until we reached a roadside vista high on the side of the mountain. It gave presented us with a spectacular top-down view of beach we just visited, along with the most expansiveof panoramics, stretching from mountain to town to beach to sea to the lazy curve of the horizon, hiding out beyond miles and miles of Pacific ocean.

And we continued on, through mountainside roads, swamps, flats, rolling hills, lazy coastal towns... Just kept on pluggin' away, letting those dotted yellow lines blink away underneath the wheels. At one point we paused to eat at the “Try-Hard Diner”, as we came to call it. We can't remember its actual name, but all we came away with was a stomach full of mediocre food and eyes overloaded with the most tacky of 50s-era decor. It seemed like anything/everything that the proprietors had ever stumbled on that even remotely resembled the vintage aesthetic was proudly tacked onto a wall of this fine establishment. 




So we drove on, flirting with the overhead cloud cover. At one point after crossing into Washington, we missed a turnoff and ended up taking a short loop around a small peninsula. And this serendipitous mistake helped us to stumble on the Grays Harbor Lighthouse, the largest such building in the state. We saw signs declaring this feat to passers-by, and being passers-by ourselves, we figured we'd take a closer look. And after arriving at the end of the day for the sweet old lady manning the lighthouse and paying $5 apiece for the tour, we took a trip up the structure. Up along the spiralling staircase we'd pause several times to hear more trivia before reaching the top and getting to gaze into the magnificent Fresnel lens. The rich turquoise of the glass exploded light into prismatic rainbows, and the circular and symmetrical arrangement of the lens created an unexpected treat of colour and pattern. Such incredible beauty, now long obsolete by the small module mounted out the window that was the size of a small loaf of bread. Lens, emitter, GPS, wireless communications, internal electronics, and all. The idle Fresnel, by contrast, must've been two to three feet wide.

We eventually pulled into Seattle later than evening, after accidentally turning off the highway to switch drivers and ending up in a military base we were promptly escorted out of. So we checked into the hotel rather road-weary, made some loose plans for the next day, ate the remaining cherries and blueberries from the fruit stand, and basically turned into zombies for the rest of the evening. Watched some underwhelming Olympic coverage. Every athlete has a sob story and is practically guaranteed a podium finish. Didn't you know?

The next day, we plummeted ourselves into downtown Seattle, where we somehow ended paying $15 to park for four hours while we inspected a couple of the attractions in the vicinity. First up was the Experience Music Project. We immediately headed to the basement to see the science-fiction exhibit. Darth Vader's lightsaber, Neo's trenchcoat, a facehugger, Yoda's cane, Data's uniform, and a myriad of handheld weapons from a slew of big sci-fi movies and TV shows. I immediately wish I would've brought my camera, even though the lighting was so low that I knew I would've botched all the shots.

Then we went upstairs, greeted by a tornado-like sculpture made of guitars and all sorts of musical instruments. An AC/DC exhibit, a Nirvana exhibit, a Rolling Stones exhibit. Cool, I guess. I'm not particularly a big fan of any of those, but I'm sure that if I was, they would've been quite captivating. Well curated exhibits, just not my slice of cake in terms of subject matter. Then there was a gallery showing the evolution of the guitar, which while neat, was rather useless without paying the extra $5 for the audio tour which would've actually let us hear what sounds the darn instruments made. They had a studio section, though, where there was a bunch of common rock instruments hooked up with simple tutorials for people to work through. I tried turntables, an electric guitar, and mucked around with a mixing board for a time. That was pretty fun – I could've spent a lot of time in that section.

Then we left and walked across the plaza to the Seattle Science Center. Lo and behold, there was a large exhibition of ancient Egyptian artifacts, with particular emphasis on relics from the tomb of King Tutankhamen himself. Old statues. Busts. Ceremonial instruments, sandals, jewelry, lots of jewelry. Jewelry of the most exquisite craftsmanship, from a time far before the likes of power tools. The one jewelry/metal-working class I took probably had less in common with what I was looking at than more. Here were these wonderfully dazzling pieces that were, in some cases, more than 3000 years old. It seems so distant. The kind of thing you read about in boring textbooks. But then I looked at a golden mantle, with fine hatched lines around the perimeter. And when I looked as close as I could, I saw that one of these hatched lines was slightly crooked, off maybe 10-15 degrees from its neighbours. And all of the sudden, I could imagine some poor goldsmith slowly etching strokes in the afternoon heat, urging his hand to keep a steady composure. The whole exhibit seemed to become so much more human from that point on. Sure, all the glittering materials and fine workmanship is impressive and a testament to amazing skill. But the story, for me, was hiding in the imperfections.

Weirdest of all, I noticed, was the younger generation of pre-teens that went through the entire exhibit... Looking at the works through the screen of their iPhone, which had the camera on. They'd take a picture and move on without actually looking at what was in front of them, as if they were just on some kind of scavenger hunt to collect photographs of all the pieces in the exhibit. This struck me as really odd, for some reason.

We finished the exhibit and went through the science center, which was fairly similar to OMSI in Portland. Some neat stuff, but... We didn't manage to conjure up that magical sense of wonder we seemed to recall having at such things when we were younger. So we left the grounds getting infinitely more enjoyment out of the ancient Egyptian relics than we did from interactive science exhibits. Apparently we're getting old.

Then we grabbed a (slightly above mediocre) burger at a non-Try Hard Diner and drove to Bellevue. For those unfamiliar with the area, it's an area in Seattle, just slightly... Less in Seattle. Why go to Bellevue? A date with destiny. Or, rather, Valve Software.

When I received the email response agreeing to our humble request for a tour, I bounced around the office and told approximately everyone of the news. I haven’t been that excited in a loooong time. You see, I have a pretty solid fixation with Valve. It used to be all about their games, and it's not hard to guess why – Half-Life 1 and 2, TF2, Portal (oh man, Portal...), Left 4 Dead... They have an impressive portfolio. But gradually over the last three or so years as I've followed my education to be a designer, I've slowly but surely become more fixated on the how of Valve. The games are still cool, of course, only now the big draw is how they operate as a company. Their culture, creative process, environment, hiring standards, business decisions, etc. This fascination was kicked into high-gear when they recently had their new employee handbook leaked. I admire their work, how they think, how they operate. I find it all utterly captivating. I can only hope that some day I'll be of the calibre to apply and merit the response of even a phone interview. So to get to go on a tour behind the scenes of this center of my fascination... It made me jump out of my seat.

And that's how we found ourselves in Bellevue on a Tuesday afternoon. And after stepping off the elevator into the lobby, my heart immediately sank when I realized that we were part of a larger tour group of about a dozen other fans. It was selfish to assume that it'd be an intimate tour for tour, and I'm sure that they get enough requests to make organized tours the way to go. We all sauntered around the office, inspecting the Atlas model on the table, the icons of the laser-cut metal sign, caught glimpses of the Half-Life 2 crossbow behind the desk, and flipped through the large book of company concept art sitting on the table. And yes, I turned the massive red valve in the lobby (which, if you're familiar with the two famous company splash screens, with a valve on the back of a man's head and the other in place of an eye, represents opening your mind and your eyes). Before long, the woman sitting behind the desk announced that the tour would begin and told us that this was all a simple look into how Valve operates as a company. I drank it up. Truth be told, very little of it was new from what I had read in the handbook and seen in various photos online. But it was neat to see it in person, even if we were just lead around various hallways and weren't let in to see the studios where the magic happened. Again, the free tour was above and beyond what I'd expect for such a well-known company, and I wouldn't expect them to let anyone in to see where the actual development takes place. So no word on any upcoming release. We saw a wall full of hats outside of the Team Fortress 2 area and Left 4 Dead concept art using celebrity faces to determine the character's feel. Throughout the office and hanging on the wall were massive pieces of wood (36x48" and larger is my guess) with pieces of concept art and in-game assets/graphics printed out. It was a really striking way to decorate the office, in addition to the vivid orange paint. What else... We saw a bulletin board where they rotated through fan art and letters, the cafeteria with a kitchen that was practically a fully-stocked convenience store, a hallway full of awards... Really, nothing that hasn't been shown in some of the several articles about Valve's headquarters.

At the end when we were back in the lobby for last questions before the end of the tour it became just how obvious it was that the other fellow-fans in the tour... were the typical socially-awkward brand of gamer (and what else would you expect from someone fanatical enough to email for a tour?). The questions covered the topic of Half-Life 3 (seriously, why even bother asking?) as well as awkward jokes about Gabe's knife collection. I thought it was pretty dumb, considering how at the beginning of the tour the guide explicitly told us that she'd only really talk about the nature of how the company was run. I tried to ask a few related questions to open up the guide and see where she'd go with things, but it seems like the pressure from the others in the group kinda cut that line of discussion short. I wish I would've persisted and asked more questions. Oh well. Eventually we were given small/simple Learning with Portals backpacks and told we were free to roam the lobby before leaving. I had prepped a custom solar-powered lantern for Valve which I gave to our guide, who gave me a polite thank you. We grabbed our bag, got our parking validated, and left.

We went to a nearby mall to park, and spent the next couple hours walking around (after my brother picked up a jacket and we poked into the Microsoft and Lego stores for kicks) a nearby plaza with a stepped fountain working its way along the perimeter. Me and my brother discussed what we saw and went over how we supposed more of the day-to-day operations went. We came up with several questions we wish we would've asked, and stated our mutual dismay at the group of fellow gamers we were lumped in with. All in all, the tour was a neat experience. Not quite as mind-blowing as I had hoped, but I came to the conclusion that I'd like to ask for a tour again in the future and stick to my guns about asking what I wanted to know. Next time.

Then we went and found a small fast-food fish-and-chips joint for supper, drove to the waterfront to eat, and then returned to our hotel to pack up and get ready for the next day.




That morning we went for a pancake breakfast (which, for some reason, was not an insignificant point of order for the trip) before setting off. It was much shorter than the previous drive between Portland and Seattle, but we cut out to follow the coast a little ways on our way up to the border. Again there were some beautiful vistas along the way. One was along a wonderfully twisty road covered in a canopy of trees. It was driving bliss, even in an automatic econobox. I'd like to drive it again some day. Eventually we landed back in our native country and went to visit our parents at a campsite. We sat and chatted for a while and started up an impromptu fire to roast some hot dogs. There's a smell/taste I haven't had in a while. As the sun was starting to set, we headed back to my brother's place where I sifted through and edited photos for the rest of the night.

The next day we got up and went to my parent's place where me and my brother met up with our father and loaded up his small blue Ford Ranger with three kayaks. We then drove on out to a secluded-ish lake in the bush, unpacked, and paddled around the perimeter and noodled around for a couple hours. It was rather fun and gave you a solid sense of freedom. You could look at anything along the glassy surface of the water and say "I want to check that out" and then just... Go. Nothing stopping you, and a million little nooks and crannies to discover along the way. Eventually we packed up and went home. After our mom arrived back from a hair appointment, we went out to my favouritest pizza joint in the whole world that I haven't been to in... A couple years, at least. I tells ya - greek pizza to die for. I've never had any other pizza remotely that good. Then me and my brother returned home, and I plugged away at sorting my photos for the rest of the night.

The next day we went to spend the day in Vancouver with my sister. We drove to the outer-city and took public transit the rest of the way in, and upon arriving we went to an amusement park. I promptly decided that vertical Gs are not my slice of tea. This was determined in the time it took to ride a roller coaster and a swinging ship. I didn't really enjoy the sensation of briefly becoming airborne within my seat of the roller-coaster (more than a few times), and my gut didn't seem to do well when swinging forward on the ship (backwards, however, didn't seem to be much of a problem). So all three of us enjoyed some of the more sedate rides, and had a genuinely good time of the kiddie roller coaster. I was the only one brave enough to go on the swings that rotated after lifting you up several stories above the grounds. It was stated not to carry anything that might fall, so I slipped my shoes off before getting on. There was something oddly satisfying about feeling the wind in your toes from such a height.

Then we walked around a downtown-ish district in hunt of a pirogi lunch truck that drove away just as we were approaching. So we went to a fantastic little fry/poutine shop instead. Along the way I saw two 911 Turbos, one of which was white with while wheels and a beige interior. With a child's seat in the back. Gorgeous car. There was also a Ferrari 458, Aston Marton DBS, Lotus Exige, and a Maserati SomethingOrOther. I love me some good car spotting.

Then we went to my sister's wee basement sweet for a bit before connecting with her boyfriend and heading out to the Richmond Night Market. It's the largest night market in North America, apparently. I was kind of disappointed - not because it was small per se, but that claim of superiority set some sort of intangible expectation in my mind. In reality, it was row upon row of cheap Chinese crap. Cellphone accessories, sunglasses, toys, makeup and jewelry, prints. Lather, rinse, repeat. There were some As Seen on TV booths to spice things up and a large row of very Asian food vendors (octopus on a stick? Check. Small carton of fried tentacles? Check.). After a couple hours we left. Neat experience, sure, but I was disappointed there was nothing there really worth buying. The vendors weren't even interested in haggling, so... What was the point?

The next day was really low-key. I got up late, and spent most of my morning trying to make sense of the photos I had taken thusfar. Once the early afternoon rolled around, we once again drove out to my parent's place. The day before I had messaged my mom and summoned the Ghost of Birthdays Past, and convinced her to make me home-made sweet and sour pork for supper with angel food cake and fluff for dessert (fluff, of course, is a concoction of jello, whipped cream and fruit). I had a craving for just these things the previous day while out in the city, and leveraged whatever guilt-points I had to get my mother to make it for me in the name of the birthday dinners I've missed since moving out. It worked.

Before this splendid meal, though, both my brother and I went down into our old room to sort through some Old Boxes of Crap We Had Totally Forgot About. Just trying to put a dent in the mountain of useless belongings we'd never need, you know? Old schoolwork, my first Batmobile Matchbox, an old set of markers... Ugh. I was practically drowning in memories.
 

After the meal we left as the sun was setting. And for one last adventurous hurrah, we decided to visit a large waterfall outside of my home town. It was a little bit out of the way, but we drove to the side of a mountain, parked, and took a lazy 10 minute hike upwards. It was a wonderful scene, to be hidden underneath the shadow of the forest and look up at a waterfall that was shimmering with the evening's last light. At the foot of the fall creeks were darting back and forth. It made me want to ditch the very expensive camera I was carrying and start building dams and redirecting streams. It immediately hearkened back to that stream we had found in the Tilamook Forest. I took some pictures, we sauntered around, and went back down. On the drive back home we chased after the sun down the valley dipped in orange light. It eventually evaporated as the sun fell below below a far-off mountain range.

Once home, we busted out some popcorn and then watched a Mystery Science Theatre 3000. The only thing missing to complete this very long-standing tradition we share was some Kool Aid. But regardless, we laughed and we snacked away. Just like we've done a million times before. Just like we used to do every other night on such warm summer evenings when we were younger.

The next day we went to church, I went back to my brother's place to pack, and then he dumped me off at the airport. The end of my exotic vacation. There were dozens of other small memories along the way, but I think the best part was being able to laugh with my brother about stupid things, and pick up really old running jokes almost as if no time had elapsed at all. We're very similar creatures.

And that's what was primarily running through my head as I was waiting for my delayed flight. As I continued to wait in the jet while we were loaded with more fuel to fly around a large storm by the destination. As we flew around the storm and the city we were supposed to land at that was currently being bombarded with lightning and golfball-sized hail. From the air, I have to say, it was quite a spectacle to witness such a raging storm. Such a raging storm, apparently, that the airport refused to let us land. So we kept on going to... Saskatoon?!




That's right, apparently I wasn't quite meant to go back to work the next day like I had planned. Instead, I ended up in the wrong province at 1AM. It took an hour and a half before I had sifted all the way through the lineup to have my turn at the counter, where some incredibly tired-looking WestJet employees gave me hotel, taxi, and meal vouchers. In another half hour, and to the credit of the airline, I found myself checked into a four-star hotel, where I promptly slept for seven hours.

The next day... I was lazy. I got up, told people where I was and when I was expected back and had a looooong bath before I was finally out the door around noon. I stumbled through downtown Saskatoon in a daze (quaint little town/city. Nothing to write home about, but a relaxed place to be). I found myself a sandwich for lunch and made my way back to the hotel to grab my camera, journal, and a book I had picked up from Powell's. I spent the rest of the afternoon sauntering up and down the river behind the hotel. Taking pictures and poking around for a bit. Sitting in the sun and writing for myself. Lounging on a bench, being dipped into the science-fiction oozing from the book in my hands. Then I went back to the hotel, packed up (it was amazing how much stuff I can litter about such a small room within a short period of time) and went to the airport. I flew home without any incident.

This last day in Saskatoon was an unexpected pleasure, actually. A solid dose of 'do nothing' was just what I needed to unwind from my trip and sort out my head. It's one of the best things about being in transit sometimes - you happen upon these strange moments of limbo where there's nothing to do but... Wait. In my case, for my evening flight. And I'm kinda glad I was forced to slow down and wait, because it made me confront my sorely neglected journal and write down a lot of ideas that have been weighing on my shoulders. It felt good to get them out and recorded in a place that's only meant for me. It's relieving to know to get things out of your brain and lay them to rest, especially when they're the kind of things that would otherwise stay bottled up.

So yes. That was my vacation. One day longer than I had expected. But quite a journey. Perhaps not that exotic or exciting by other peoples' standards, but that's not what it's meant to be judged by. It was fun, it was what I wanted it to be, and that's all I can ask for. Saskatoon and all.
-Cril

Turn off your mind relax and float down stream
It is not dying, it is not dying

Lay down all thoughts, surrender to the void,
It is shining, it is shining.

Yet you may see the meaning of within
It is being, it is being

Love is all and love is everyone
It is knowing, it is knowing

And ignorance and hate mourn the dead
It is believing, it is believing

But listen to the colour of your dreams
It is not leaving, it is not leaving

So play the game "Existence" to the end
Of the beginning, of the beginning

The Beatles - Tomorrow Never Knows

Deflating Summer

It's been a while. It's been a looong while. The accident really knocked the wind out of me. For a couple of weeks, I couldn't get myself to write or play music or draw or game or read or walk or jog. Nothing but... Bleh-ness. I actually had the car donated. Went to the impound where it lay, got all of my stuff out. Ripped out the stereo, gutted the glove compartment, raided the change drawer. Removed the license plate. And as I walked away for the last time, I was more than a little choked up. Over that dumb little green Acura that has cost me way too much in maintenance. Argh. The impound attendant that came with me was an old and slightly grumpy man, being rather short and complaining about this and that. And as a sigh whispered out from my lips and my shoulders slumped as I turned away to go, something shone in within his grizzled outlook. "She served you well. Don't worry, you'll find another." Maybe not poetic or grand, but right then and there, after I had just stripped everything of value from the body of a friend... That comment lodged a lump in my throat.

The worst part is that it was sitting there with a full tank. A month prior, I had had an engine flush and oil change. Two more months before that, I got new brakes put on. Yeah, financially that's just adding insult to injury. But what really stung was that it was probably running the best it had been since I got it. I was looking forward to the rest of the summer together.

Sigh.

But now it's no more. And while the insurance drags out, as such things tend to do, I'm trying to sort out the if and how of getting a car for the next year of school. I can't stop thinking of the end goal for once I graduate, though: a new(ish) car. I've been paying far too close attention to the new and used markets, and reading reviews and checking stats for various automobiles that on the market. One thing at a time, yes?


Ok, because I haven't written in so long I have a LOT of stuff I want to talk about. Too much stuff. I've found myself wanting to put off posting because there was so much to get through. But I need to get my foot in the door and keep going. So I'll plow through a bunch of ideas in point-ish form, so that they won't be hanging over me. Here we go.

• Not too long ago I had a chance to visit with my grandmother. I was present while she was talking about her community with my aunt and uncle about. She was mentioning something about how there were several religions in the area, but they all had congregations that were so small that they couldn't afford to keep their buildings. She then proposed that maybe they should all share a building, profoundly stating that "after all, it's all worshiping the same God, just in different ways." Wow. That really struck a chord with me - that these people are doing their best to pursue their own version of happiness through living a life that resonates with their version of happiness. And even if the specifics are different, the end goal is still the same. We all share the same God(s), we just acknowledge it in separate ways. So why can't we work together to help eachother along, even when we might not share the same views? It's a beautiful idea. We all share something in common, and there's no reason why we have to be at eachother's throat about it.
• Been trying to bomb through as much dental work as I can. I've been putting it off way too long, and it has just recently dawned on me that I can save a LOT of money if I get everything taken care of while I'm still in school and covered by insurance. I may need to have my wisdom teeth out, which I'm not looking forward to, but everything else is pretty doable. I need to stop slacking around, though, because my teeth are in terrible condition. 
• Speaking of which, I should book an optomitrest appointment and get me an update perscription. Things don't seem too bad right now, but I'm sure it's one of those things you don't recognize is deteriorating until you get it properly looked at.
• I got a new (used) phone. A Nexus S. Pretty fancy stuff, much quicker than the old G1 I was using. Having a smart phone on hand is incredible, it really changes how you interact with the world. I just need to get some accessories. For example, I only have one Micro USB chord, which I left at the office. I'm trying to make it through the weekend on only one charge. I don't think it's going to work.
• School starts in just under two weeks. Yikes. Lots to do.
• ...I was thinking of writing about the vacation I took, but that's probably going to take a little while in and of itself. I'll save that for the next post.
• I took a lot of photos while on vacation, though. And for the most part, they turned out almost good. Lots that were just a smidge out of focus, or just slightly crooked, or a bit over exposed, or have some weird element peeking into the frame. But I'm getting better, I think. I could use a wide-angle lens, though.
• I saw Dark Knight Rises, which was pretty good. I really enjoyed a lot of the cues from the comic books. And I ain't no buff when it comes to the books, but I caught some really cool hints to the ones I'm familiar with. I thought the movie did a great job of bringing the other previous films together into one story. They did a good job of incorporating all the different elements into something bigger. The ending was a bit too sappy though - I felt like everything was tied up too nicely. I dug how they included/introduced Robin, though. But the last scene with Alfred felt waaaay too forced and cheery. And the statue was a bit too much. I almost wish Batman would've died to save us from the overly optimistic conclusion. Oh well.
• Go watch the Senna documentary movie. It's quite good, even if you're not into F1/motorsports.
• I'm about to embark on my last and final year (I hope) of education. Insert obligatory angst here.

Ok, I need to go do... Something else now. I'm glad that I've started posting again, though.
-Cril

And when you finally fly away
I'll be hoping that I served you well
For all the wisdom of a lifetime
No one can ever tell

Rod Stewart - Forever Young