On Current Accomodations

I'm currently staying in Bedford-Stuyvesant, which is a neighbourhood in Brooklyn. And not just any neighbourhood, either. You know when Jay-Z sings about growing up in the hood, and all those wonderful, upstanding activities that took place? Yeah, he's from Bedford Stuyvesant. Or Bed-Stuy, as it's commonly referred to. So when it came time for me to move a month and a half ago (during the final stretch of the semester), and I stumbled across an AirBnB listing that was affordable and not too far away, I jumped on it. Sure, it said it was in Bed-Stuy, but how bad could it be?

On my way to spend my first night at the new address I walked over, leaving my apartment around 9pm, and passed no less than four pairs of street cops just hanging out in the streets, keeping an eye on things. The walk itself was only about a mile. Turns out that my new abode was located inbetween between project buildings. Y'know, like, the projects.

So things are pretty bad, apparently.

Life in the apartment started off well enough. I got settled in, and the biggest shock was that my bedroom window overlooked an alley full of trash and each morning I'd be the only non-black person waiting on the train platform. And on weekend mornings someone in a neighbouring apartment likes to blare terrible RnB, in the evenings there are constantly cars with loud stereos passing by, and there are usually people in the streets yelling at each other no matter the time of the day. Okay, so, not ideal, but still not terrible. I can live with a little bit of ambient noise, right?

The apartment's owner is a vegetarian health-nut, and therefore there was a distinct lack of microwave in the tiny kitchen. Not that big of a deal.

Then I bought some ice cream sandwiches and threw them in the freezer, only to have them slowly start melting into midly cool, wax-paper wrapped chocolate and vanilla ooze bombs. Freezer didn't work, apparently. Okay, not the end of the world.

Between that and the limited fridge and cupboard space, I didn't have a lot of room to do serious cooking. So I'd been living off a diet of sandwiches and mac n' cheese, keep a few bare essentials in the fridge: cheese, butter, deli meat, a couple vegetables. Until a few weeks passed and those all began to go bad as the fridge, too, decided to quit.

I was now only eating non-perishable foods that could be easily cooked. Ramen, mac n' cheese, beans. I'd buy some apples and carrots, and do my best to burn them within a couple days before they went bad. Scurvy isn't fun, or so I hear. One night after dinner I was still hungry, so I figured I'd go make myself another pot of macaroni, when lo and behold, the kitchen lightswitch crapped out and I was left standing in the dark.

I went to bed a little bit hungry that night. Part of the problem is that I can't afford to eat out regularly, so I need to stick to my guns and stick to a store-bought diet. It's not convenient, sure, but all I could do was chuckle to myself at the misfortune and keep on pluggin' away.

A couple weeks passed, and the fridge and freezer was finally replaced. Huzzah!

No joke, the exact same day, the stove stopped working. I'm currently sitting on about $20 cookable non-perishable foods that I can't eat because I simply don't have a way to heat them.

And that was only the kitchen.

Some days the hot water simply doesn't show up for work, leaving you with a room temperature (or some days downright cold) shower. That's okay for the days when the temperature is filthy warm and humid, but other days it's always a bit of a gamble to know how quickly you'll want to get jump out of the tub.

And then there's the internet. It started off alright, and then it turned into an outdoor cat. Yes, I know that the internet is usually for looking at cats, but mine has become one. It comes and goes as it pleases. Sometimes it doesn't show up for days on end, and then it'll be suddenly there without announcing its arrival or any indication that it had even left. But, like any cat worth its weight, it's impeccably lazy. Web pages take a minute or two to load, if they even load at all.

I was feeling particularly bored the other day, so I decided to download a small indie game on Steam. A top-down racing game with weapons and zombies. It was less than a gig.

It took two days to download. My download topped out at 54.2kb/s. If I didn't know any better, I'd say that makes it slower than 56K dialup. It certainly felt like it, though. And it was definitely less reliable.

I've been doing my best to stay positive about everything, thinking "Nah, lots of people have it worse. Things aren't that bad." Then one day, the buzzer sounded and I headed down to the building entrance to see who it was (because, you guessed it, the intercom is busted). Lo and behold, it was three police officers, badges around their necks and everything, serving a search warrant for a shady-lookin' black man. They asked me if I knew and/or have seen him. I said no. I let them in the building, and they begun their search.

It was somewhere around here that I realized that I am, in fact, living in a dump. This is the kind of thing you'll recall for the rest of your life in the form of any sentence starting with "Man, I used to live in a place where..."

To be honest, the people in the apartment aren't too bad. Lots of cool people have been coming and going (it is an AirBnB place, after all). The apartment's owner is a stage actor and has lots of stage actor friends who come over and listen to musicals and sing along to musicals. Even when they aren't on. That kind of thing, to be honest, just puts a smile on your face. Sure, it's strange and unexpected, but in a "this is kinda awesome" way.

Aside from that, though, I'm kinda miserable right now. I miss my previous apartment, and I miss home, and I'm not too fond of where I am at the moment. That's probably fuelling my decision to return home in a big way.

But you can't argue with the fact that this is one hell of a place. New York, that is. I've lived in some strange places and spoken with strange people and seen strange things (did I tell you about the 2AM street brawl in front of my old address?).  I'll definitely miss it.

I'm hoping, though, that I'll still find lots to smile about. And high on that list will be a decent home made meal, made in a kitchen full of functioning appliances and everything.

Until then, I need to figure out how many stars to give this place on AirBnB.
-Cril

You know that I would love to see you next year
I hope that I am still alive next year
You magnify the way I think about myself
before you came I rarely thought about myself

Behind your veil I found a body underneath
Inside your head were things I never thought about
You know that I would love to see you next year
I hope that I am still alive next year

What's my view?
Well how am I supposed to know?
Write a review?
Well how objective can I be?

Mark Ronson (ft. Paul Smith) - Apply Some Pressure

Dave Matthews, a Frat Party, and Karma

The Dave Matthews Band seems to catch a lot of flak. Seems to me that it's one of those bands that got popular and is just "cool to hate". As a friend remarked when she found out I had a ticket to go see one of their concerts, "isn't that the band that only white meat heads like?"

Yes, yes it is.

It took me a long time to get into the Dave Matthews Band. Several years ago (almost 10 now, yeesh) my uncle dumped his entire music library on me probably in hopes that I'd expand my taste beyond the seven albums (I cannot confirm or deny that four of those seven were Linkin Park) I owned and played relentlessly. Lots of classic rock and jazz, and a couple of DMB studio albums. I liked a couple of the tracks here and there, but overall the band didn't make much of an impression. It took me a few years to finally burn my way through all of my uncle's music, and at the end I discovered I had passed over a single DMB live album. With nothing else to listen to, I put it on.

I found myself listening to a band I swore I'd never heard before.

Yes, it was the Central Park Concert live album by the Dave Matthews Band that introduced me to the notion that some bands are, indeed, better live. Much better.

DMB obviously have a lot going for them - unconventional rhythm and song structure, solid vocals, really tight musicianship, unexpected lyrics. But it was their raw energy coming from performing live that caused me to Stand Up (ha!) and properly appreciate of all of the above. I'd never seen them in person (despite their relentless touring year after year, they never come to my end of the continent), but I could tell from their official live albums that they're at the top of their game in concert.

Lo and behold I somehow ended up coming to New York. Shortly after the New Year when they posted their summer touring schedule, I was able to book a ticket to their second night in Camden, PA. They had shows in New York itself that wouldn't happen until much later in the summer, at which point there was a chance I wouldn't be around. So instead I had to take a bus two hours to Philedelphia, where I was able to catch a ferry across the river to the venue in Camden.

Immediately after the start of the first all-acoustic set I discovered that I wasn't attending a concert. No, I was attending a frat reunion party for the grads of 1998. It seems they rented a stadium so that everyone could talk and drink and get high, and have room for the Dave Matthews Band to perform as background entertainment for the evening.

The signs were there before hand, of course. Lots of middle-aged white men (and women) waited in line at the gates with their packs of beer and lame shoulder tattoos. As I sat in my end-seat 20 minutes before the show began, a man stumbled up, vomited in the isle, then kept on walking. And it basically all went downhill from there.

What I didn't understand was that attending a DMB show was a favourite pastime. People would show up with their beer, catch up with friends, and talk about how many of the band's shows they've seen. And they'd continue talking about how many times they've seen the band while the band was in the middle of performing. Then they'd take a break to either get up and fetch more beer, or light a joint and pass it around. I eventually just gave up and stood in the isle beside my seat, so I wouldn't interrupt the continuous flow of people to/from my row.

And like I mentioned, the band started with an acoustic set. But the steady sea of conversation ruined it for me - it was difficult to really hear and appreciate the music itself. Thankfully, when they switched to the full/electric arrangement, the speakers were blasting so loud (it just isn't a frat party without loud music) that it was at least near impossible to hear people more than 4-5 seats away.

I realized somewhere in the middle of all this that, no, the Dave Matthews Band does not indeed suck. I feel pretty comfortable defending that statement. But the Dave Matthews Band fans on the other hand, are terrible. They almost ruined the show for me.

To be clear, I'm not just talking about a half dozen people around me that were kind of annoying. No, these people were everywhere. And I could tell this was the case because I heard one of the senior event staff working the isle by my seat mumble to herself, "can this evening just be done with already?"

But to their credit, I was offered to participate in no less than two joints during the show. Dave Matthews fans may be obnoxious, but you can't say they aren't generous.

Either way, part way through the show I was able to relax and enjoy the show (this may have something to do with the second, third, fourth, and fifth-hand pot smoke floating around my section). I'm not a veteran of these shows, so I didn't recognize most of the songs which are, apparently, usually only performed live. But still, the band was in good form and you could tell that despite how long they've been performing, they still knew how to have fun together on stage and enjoy what they do. The final song from the encore was Two Step, which ended in an orgasmic explosion of light, noise, drums, and music. I've seen a few concerts over the years, and this one was definitely the most hardest of cores in terms of rock and roll. It was one hell of a thing to whitness. Very loud, and unapologetically energetic. Great experience.

---

After the show I became karma.

We streamed out and rushed to the ferry crossing to get back to Philadelphia. The line was long, following a path that went around a corner and up a hill. People would just cut across the grass to get to the corner and join up with the line, despite the (dunken) shouts of everyone waiting their turn further down the line. Eventually I got to the corner, and a set of four middle aged guys cut in, despite being called out by several people surrounding me. These four guys essentially just said "yeah, whatever, we don't care. We're okay being dicks and skipping the wait." I found myself internally cursing humanity, realizing that this is why we (as a race) indeed cannot have nice things.

I was pissed off at how selfish crap like this is the equivalent of looking at someone and saying "I'm more important than you" when one of these guys lit up a joint and started passing it around between the four of them as they stood waiting right in the line. Before long, one of the police officers watching over the concerts' mass exodus pulled two of the group out of the line, asking them what they were smoking. They claimed it was nothing, and showed their empty hands. The cop wasn't fooled and asked where the joint was, and the two pretended they didn't know what he was referring to.

It was at this point that I looked looked down at the pavement infront of me where the two men had cut in line. Lo and behold, a still-glowing and half-finished joint.

I pointed it out to some of the other people in line that were annoyed with how the group skipped waiting in line. We got the policeman's attention, who came over and picked it up. The two men were sent to the back of the line as punishment, and their two friends who were also sharing the joint remained in line.

I know it's "not cool" to snitch out a pot user, as was reiterated by some woman close by that was pretty offended that I alerted people to the joint on the ground. Even though I don't smoke, yeah, pot doesn't hurt anyone and it probably should be legal. And I probably wouldn't have said anything about it had those idiots been such pricks about cutting in line.

Bam. Karma'd.

And not long after, the other two people still in line realized that their ferry tickets were with their two busted friends now waiting at the back of the line. So the left.

I won't lie, that felt so. Damn. Good.

I also felt a little bit bad for a time. I don't know if I'd do it again, but it was neat to see someone make a dick-move and then get punished for it shortly afterwards through something unrelated. And I got to be the surrogate for karma itself.

It's okay, though. In the end I was also on the receiving end of karma's boot for ratting those two guys out. The concert ran a lot longer than I expected (apparently a DMB concludes about 4 hours after it starts, compared for the 2-3 I planned on), and I ended up missing my midnight bus back to New York. The next bus was supposed to be at 3AM, and actually showed up at 3:30. I didn't get home and to sleep until about 6:30AM.

On the plus side, though, knowing that I had 2.5hrs to kill before the bus arrived meant I could walk from one end of downtown Philadelphia where my ferry landed to the other where the bus terminal was located. I want to say that "in hindsight it wasn't a very smart thing to do", but I knew full well at the time that it wasn't smart to be a tourist walking through an unfamiliar downtown at midnight. But I did it anyways, at least keeping to well lit areas and trying to be extra-aware of my surroundings. It was a nice walk, actually. Philedelphia is a pretty city (what little of it I saw, at least), and along the way I was able to get a late-night Philly Cheesesteak. Right in downtown Philly. A Philly Philly Cheesesteak, if you will.

It was actually kinda gross (they only had Cheese Wiz or American *cough*plastic*cough* cheese), but it was a neat experience to have at 1AM when you're very far from home and not quite sure what the rest of the night will hold for you. Or how you'll even get home.

Strange times. I'm glad I experienced each one of those twenty four hours. But they were very strange.
-Cril

Come on, all of you wanted to lie
Get in line and everything'll be fine
We gotta toss our troubles to the wind
We'll beat 'em all like we did in the end

Money is clean cause we scrub it good
With guns and gasoline we're gonna save the world
Nothing's obscene if we only close our eyes
Boys and girls welcome to this joy ride

Dave Matthews Band - Joy Ride

On Current Deliberations

I don't even know how to begin. Okay, let's keep it simple then:

I am currently unemployed and in New York City. I know I don't want to be in New York City long term. I do want a job. There are lots of jobs here, and a lot of good jobs, too. The problem is, as a Canadian I need to get special visa status in order to stay. The end of the grace period on my student visa ends in roughly two weeks. In a way, I'm glad; it's forcing some sort of decision out of me. Or not.

Yes, it would be fun to play Hot Shot New York Designer, and be "that guy" that gets a killer job in the big time and everyone looks up to. I mean, who wouldn't want that? Me, I think. I've never been one to want awards and recognition. My goal, I think, has always been to work with cool people to make cool stuff. I'd love to be at some small/intimate little studio making Neat Things for a living. I don't think I want it to be seen all around the globe, or be in design annuals or anything. I think I'm just on a voyage to make myself happy in a way that I'm not reliant on the recognition of others. Hell, I've never really boasted about scholarships and grades, have I? I just want to be happy making good work I like.

And for a career, yes, it would be a wise thing to take a decent job at a well-known company. That's the kind of thing that could guarantee me some job security and better pay down the road. But I'm so tired of the whole delayed-gratification schtick. These last four years, I've been putting off having a life. Having a car, taking lessons for an instrument, travelling, learning to cook... I've put all of it off in the name of "I've got to work hard and concentrate now, so that later I'll be in a better place to enjoy those things." And that's what I've done. Yes, I could get some fancy New York job and do those things, but I know that I don't want to be in New York forever. It'll be like one more thing where deep down I'd be sitting on the launchpad, waiting to actually take off and start living the life I envision in my head.

But maybe I can't get a fancy New York job. I've applied at ~50 places over the last month and a half, and have been continually refining my portfolio. And yet I've had all of four interviews, none of which have born any fruit. I've even got a few killer referrals from one of my profs who's an uppity-up in the design world. That in itself was a bit of gong show. Talk about a missed opportunity.

There was an assignment where the student that did the best would get an hour-long personal consultation with the professor who knows everyone in the New York design scene. She could introduce the winner to anyone they wanted. And I won. So we booked the consultation and I went. And I completely wasted the opportunity. Got some feedback on my portfolio. She made an open recommendation on Facebook. And... That was about it, really. It wasn't until afterwards that I realized I pretty much could've used the opportunity to score an interview at anywhere I wanted. Problem is... at the time I had no idea where that'd be. And I still don't, really. I'm so utterly clueless about what I want professionally that it freaks me out. And when I found myself standing at the Gate of Infinite Possibilities, I uttered the equivalent of "I like turtles" and promptly closed my eyes and just started flailing around. A totally wasted opportunity. I feel like an idiot. Any of my other classmates would have made a better use of that consultation than I did.

I know a lot of the things I want out of life, but my career is (and always has been) one big blind spot. I'm not sure where I'm headed. Before coming to New York, I'd quip that as long as I could pay the bills, I could flip burgers and still make a pretty happy life for myself. I don't need much. A decent computer, a used car, and instrument. And then I came to New York, and I saw just how many possibilities there are. Grand jobs, big clients, large paychecks, conferences, design rock stars... It's all here. I feel like my expectations have adjusted themselves to fit my surroundings. Now I want it all. Or do I? I feel like the city has poisoned me, in a way. I feel like I'm dying to lead a big life, when I know I'm a small/quiet life kind of person. There are too many lights and sounds here.

So here I am, thinking that "yeah, maybe going back to Calgary is the way to go." After all, that is where I want to be. Around friends and family, somewhere car-friendly. But how much of that is me being homesick? How much of it is me wanting to justify returning home so that I can hide from the pressure of being a big and fancy designer? Or hiding from the possibility of failing at an impressive interview? I can't tell. Things are cloudy. I feel like I'm under a bit of a microscope, with friends/professors/family all watching to see how I do in the big time.

So is it okay to go home? I think that's what would make me happy. I'm worried that's a collection of fears masquerading as an excuse to give up here.

I won't lie, I'm absolutely craving some stability. I've lived in 4-5 places over the last year. I haven't had any work. The anxiety over whether or not I could/would stay has been gnawing at me since I originally arrived. I want to work. I want to have a kitchen where I can cook what I want. I want a car. I want to pay off my loans.

And here I am, about to let fate decide for me. Originally, I had decided that I'd stay if I got a decent job. If I got a crappy job, I may as well be back home where I'm a bit more comfortable and the cost of living is more affordable. If I got a groovy-cool job I'd stay, because it'd be good to have on a resume. But neither of those two possibilities have actually occurred. And I'm still applying for work here and there without any luck. So I may not have a choice after all. I have one solid week left where I could fish for work, but if I'm going to leave, I'd rather start preparing for that now. I kinda want to hang up my hat and enjoy my last two weeks here without worrying about finding work.

I've been incredibly restless these days. I have problems listening to podcasts, because my mind wanders towards my current predicament. I've been having very violent and unsettling dreams. Sometimes the uncertainty makes me want to vomit. Other times, I get so mad at myself for still not knowing what direction I should take me career in.

If I go back to Calgary, will I be a failure? I know that's a bit fatalistic. But apparently all the ACAD students that have come here on this SVA scholarship have ended up finding work and staying. I'll be the first one not to. But I know that I don't like the big city. I still have a lot of small town boy in me. I don't want to stay in New York all my life. So maybe going back is the best thing I can do. If I don't know what direction to take my career in, I can at least go the direction I know I want to take my general life in. New York will still be here. When I know what I want to do with myself as a professional, I'll do it. Until then...

Go West, young man.
-Chril

Mogwai - Take Me Somewhere Nice

So what have I learned?

Well that's a scary question.

The obvious stuff: How to screenprint, use Cinema 4D, the art/purpose of personal branding, the finer points of presenting. How to make a (simple) interactive portfolio, how to work on interactive projects. The difference between a gaussian blur and lens blur (hint: HUGE). How to find an apartment in one day, how to navigate a subway. How to swim through crowds of infinite depth. 

The less obvious answers is that I learned I have a lot to learn still. A lot. I learned I have problems with colour, typography, layout, contrast, concept, execution. In a nutshell, I'm not very good at what I do.

A bit heartbreaking, isn't it?

Now it should be said that I did, in fact, do pretty well in my classes. Dean's list, and all that. As one of my favourite profs told me, "you're a fantastic student. One of the best in the course." Notice how he didn't say "designer". He later added that he was expecting my pieces to be pushed a bit farther visually.

Okay, maybe I'm reading too far into things here. Most of my self-doubt is probably due to my portfolio prof who was particularly hard on me and made it clear how much I don't know. She really raked me over the coals over it, and justifiably so. But I also know I learned a lot from that experience and improved. But still... There were times when I listened and watched so intensely, trying to soak up every bit of knowledge so I could get better. And yet, I still lagged behind.

That's when I learned that either I'm inherently not good at designing, or learning, or both. Any of those possibilities are pretty disheartening to think about.

But I still got good grades, right? That means I've got to be pretty good, right?

No joke. On the very last day of one of my classes, I overheard a 3rd year student talking about her portfolio review. She said the comment left by the department head was "your GPA is stronger than your work."

AH-HA! Lightbulb moment! Like that prof said, I'm a good student. And I am. I participate, I'm on time, never been absent, follow the brief, etc. But, yes, my work is a bit lacking because I'm not that hot of a designer. 

This is something I've known in my gut for a long time and have just been able to articulate now. It raises a plethora of ugly questions. Why can't I be naturally good at what I want to do? What am I naturally good at? Am I in the wrong profession altogether? Has all of this been one massive waste? It's a really sucky realization to have, that you know you aren't as well inclined towards your field of choice as compared to your classmates/co-workers. That maybe in some way you're not cut out for it like others are.

I've learned that I'm not very good at what I do. But I am a good doer. If I'm still a solid student, that means I'll be a solid employee, right? On time, hard working, attentive, etc. Maybe my work might be lacking a bit, but I can make it up with my general work ethic.

As someone that worked his way through his four-year degree, I like to think that I work pretty hard. But then again... Everyone thinks they work hard. Have you ever gotten into one of those conversations where people try to prove they're the one's that work the hardest? "You worked 50hrs last week? Oh, well, 60hrs is the norm for me". Etc, etc. It's like a giant race to the bottom, to prove that, no, I'm the one that's the biggest loser without a life.

So is that something I should be proud of, even? I don't know.

But I do know I'm not the worst designer out there either. As much as the competitive part of me desperately wants to look down from the top of the mountain, I need to find peace with the fact that I just wasn't built to climb that high. And maybe I don't need to be the one get to the very top and be the one to plant a flag. Maybe it's okay to go at my own pace, one step at a time. Perhaps I'll never reach the top, but my determination and focus will eventually get me to some sort of summit with a nice view. I'd be okay with that.

I know it's easy to look at all this and fall into the despair of "I'm a failure as a designer, I'm not good at my profession, what have I spent all this time/money on", etc. In a strange way, it's very tempting to run away to flip burgers for the rest of my life. It's a punch in the gut to realize you aren't as good as you wish you were. Makes you wonder if there's a problem you have. If you just can't learn properly, or you're lazy, or just plain ol' inept. I mean, I want to be good.

Throughout the year, I've been keeping an open document called "Lessons Learned" full of the little things I need to keep in mind. Visual principles, about typography, colour, layout, contrast, etc. I'm trying to learn, trying to make it stick. I was going to copy/paste it in here, but it's like a grocery list of my insecurities as a designer. I might not have the physique of a mountaineer, but I hope things like this will help me to keep climbin'.

When I saw him last. that prof that told me I was a good student left me with one last thought as we were parting. He said "you'll be just fine", in a matter-of-fact tone. I don't know if I feel that way right now, but I think he's probably right. Just gotta keep climbin', and one way or another, I'll find my own trail and things will sort themselves out.

-Cril

I know when to go out 
And when to stay in 
Get things done

I catch a paper boy
But things don't really change
I'm standing in the wind
But I never wave bye-bye

But I try
I try

There's no sign of life
It's just the power to charm
I'm lying in the rain
But I never wave bye-bye

But I try
I try

David Bowie - Modern Love