G'DAE, Mate

So I sold my mandolin.

It was a gift from a dear friend, who bought it for me a couple years ago. It was a used beginner model (a black Epiphone, worth only $200 new), with okay-ish sound, stiff fretboard action, and tuners that wouldn't quite stay put. I wasn't too attached to the instrument itself, but it meant a lot to me as a gift.

So I sold it. I almost got back how much I spent on it, too.

Then I took what little spending money I had left from New York, added in various graduation present money from family, a chunk of my (meager) savings, and my used mandolin money... And I bought a brand new, high-end mandolin. An Eastman. Made in China, yes, but all by hand. It has a beautiful matte finish. There's no paint, and under the right light the rich pattern of the warm wood grain looks like it's glowing. There's a fine white stripe on the contours. The strings press down nicely.

Of course, I researched the model to death before I even tried it out. The reviews were consistent: it's a great quality instrument for a (relatively) modest price, that will be a great companion for beginners and intermediates. It's even alright for advanced players too. Sounds right up my alley, right?

Well, I tried it out in the store and it sounded pretty good. But then I tried the other mandolins, which impressed me far more. Alas, I didn't have the $1200 or more to spend on those and I felt confident in my research, so with a little bit of hesitation I pulled the trigger on the Eastman. I even had an unopened one brought in from another branch, so I didn't end up with the showroom model.

Upon getting home with it and taking my first strum, though... All my doubts vanished. Away from the other customers trying out guitars and ukuleles, I could hear the lush tones of the Eastman. The highs were higher, the lows were lower, and the mids were... Middletastic. Seriously, it makes a glorious sound. What bums me out is that I'm going to get used to that sound before long. I wish I could hold on to that sense of wonder I got from truly hearing it for the first time.

The mandolin is the one instrument I've wanted to really know how to play well for quite some time now, so it seems appropriate to spend all my gift money on something like this that I'll hopefully have for the rest of my life. I even bought Mandolin for Dummies, which I'm slowly working my way through in lieu of actual (and even more expensive) lessons. I'm trying to take things seriously by playing at least 20 mins every day.

I'm feeling good about it it. I've been slowly learning how to do some basic picking, and it's a truly odd mix of frustration and fascination. One moment I'll put all my effort into playing, only to receive slow and clunky results. A day late (or sometimes even just an hour), my speed and accuracy has noticeably increased. It's not great, mind you, but it's improvement. I think everyone at some point should learn a difficult physical activity like that. It's pretty amazing to fight your body to make it do what you want only to get mixed results, and then unexpectedly find success almost as if it was always there, lurking out of the corner of your eye.

And then you show your wonderful instrument that you've been labouring over to a friend who doesn't even know a single mandolin chord but is a pretty kickass guitar player, and inside of five minutes he's become more proficient at it than you are. Maddening and amusing at the same time.

Anyways, here's to finding a new companion, learning something new, and making music. All at the same time.
-Cril

Here comes the man with the mandolin
He'll cheer you up 'till your ship comes in
Lovable old fellow playing an old tune
He comes 'round every afternoon
Raggedy old minstrel, wearing a big grin
You'll love the man with the mandolin

Glenn Miller Orchestra - The Man With The Mandolin

Pennies and Anvils

It's hard to take advice from some people, you know?

There's a friend from SVA who's still in New York. After finishing school, she applied for work at a bunch of places and ended up getting an interview or two. Within a month she managed to snag a pretty good job at a fairly high-profile company after being referred by a friend. I was so happy/proud of her. It's a killer opportunity any designer would be lucky to have.

And then there's me. Applying and cold calling and interviewing until my fingers hurt, my ears are bleeding, and my mouth is drier than a mathematics lecture. And try as I might, I just don't have much to show for it, nevermind a high-profile job like hers. It's tiring and discouraging and draining on the self confidence.

Being a decent friend and good person, my friend tries to keep me motivated. Tells me it's a long road. Try to be confident in the interview. You just gotta keep trying and not give up.

If it were coming from anyone else, I wouldn't have a problem with it. And it's not that she's doing anything wrong, either. But because she got that job so, dare I say, comparatively easily, it's hard to take. I wanna say, "gah, she doesn't know what she's talking about! She clearly hasn't suffered through what I have, and therefore doesn't have any wisdom to offer me." It's a long road. I need to stay confident in my interviews. I just need to keep trying and not give up.

Stick those words into the mouths of any other person and I wouldn't have a problem. It's dumb.

I don't begrudge her success. Not even a little; I'm ridiculously happy for her and really admire her good fortune. She's very talented and obviously deserves to be where she is. No, there's no begrudging of her success. Instead, I'm just becoming bitter at the lack of my own.



Shortly after she got her job and was basking in the glow of her new employment, she remarked to me how she told our portfolio class prof about her success, who promptly invited her to come in for the next school year and talk to the other students. My friend said that if there was one thing she'd like to tell the students, it would be how they should embrace what makes them unique. How showing your interests and personality is what sets you apart from others and catches attention.

Bitterness demands I roll my eyes, even though the point has merit.

I started wondering what I would say if I got a job and was invited to come in to speak to the class (and yes, this is an exercise in utter fantasy due to the slight distance gap between me and the school). I think it'd go something like this:

As a designer, I lack two things. Self confidence in my work and natural talent. I'm not very visually-inclined and as a result design does not come easy to me. If you're anything like me, I have some advice for you. When you're working on something and can't get it right, keep beating your head against the wall. Eventually, there'll be blood. Keep banging your head against the wall. At some point after the start of bloodloss, you'll stand back in a stupor and find that you've made something worth while. When it comes time to get a job don't wait for opportunities to show up, and instead just start knocking on doors. Knock until your hand bleeds, and then knock some more. At some point, your bloody stump will get you ten minutes of attention from someone in charge. Chances are they'll tell you to (politely) screw off. Go to the next door and repeat the process with your other hand. Eventually, someone might even think your two-stumped bloody hulk is interesting and give you a job.

So, yeah. Bitterness is one hell of a drug. Even if I had had better luck with the job search I think the core of my message would remain the same, except with less jaded gore.

At some point I mentioned my doubts and fears to my friend. She told me,

"i think you're better suited to things that are more straightforward... to be honest... design is such an abstract...thing"

Oof. It's funny how I can shrug-off her positive advice and roll my eyes, but that little tidbit slipped from her hand like a penny and landed with the force of the rooftop anvil. Pretty devastating stuff. That's probably because it has more than a couple grains of truth to it that speak directly to my own insecurities and hesitations.

And after all, she graduated near the top of the program and got a high-profile job right out the door. She probably knows what she's talking about, right?
-Cril

I wake up, it's a bad dream
No one on my side
I was fighting
But I just feel too tired
To be fighting
Guess I'm not the fighting kind

Where will I meet my fate?
Baby I'm a man, I was born to hate
And when will I meet my end?
In a better time you could be my friend

Keane - A Bad Dream

Wake me up when my September starts

Well it's September, and you know what that means: back to school. Except it doesn't. And I'm not even talking about the teacher strike in BC, even (Dear government, please get your act together). No, for the first time in five years I'm somehow not going back into the classroom/studio.

I wish I could say that it felt more strange than it does. In reality, it's all just anticlimactic. It's nothing much more than an unintentional and slightly audible sigh that prompts the inner dialogue "I guess that's it, huh?" In the past, I usually would have spent the last week in some form of an angst-driven fidgeting marathon. I'd go for along walks or, when I had a car, a day trip out into the countryside in search of calmed nerves and fresh air.

Instead I'm working part time, with plenty of idle twiddling of thumbs and the ability to watch the first leaves fall. Yes it's much more relaxing and calm, but it's also its own version of unsettling, but for darker reasons. I'm still worried about finding a job, for many reasons. To validate my choice of (now completed) education, to get a steady income to buy a computer and a car, to be self-sufficient enough to move out and find more permanent accommodations.

I'm excited to start living and all that jazz. It's kind of a funny plot twist that I was so anxious to get a job and now I still haven't managed to land anything. The job hunt keeps following me around, and I can't get rid of it. Maybe I'm not trying hard enough. It has been really nice to take the last couple of months a bit slow after the anxiety-binge of five years of school and part time work. But I know I've had too much of this low-pressure time, and I feel like I'm slowly starting to become stagnant and complacent. That is scary as hell. I need to get my ass in gear. I need to get a proper design job.


My parents and grandparents have all sent me bits of cash as a graduation present. I think I'm going to buy a new mandolin (a proper one this time, something that'll last me a good long time) and get serious about playing it. I want to do this for three reasons. First is to learn something new. Second is to fill in the gap caused by the phantom back-to-school anxiety. Third is to, well... Start living. This is one of those things I've told myself I'd start doing once I finished school (ie, getting a stable job), along with cars, computers, cooking, and other various undertakings (that don't necessarily start with the letter C). Most of those things are hinging on the full time job I still don't have, but I feel like getting this instrument will help seal that fact that I am, indeed, done with school.

I'm glad I'm not going back to class this fall. I've had enough education, thank you very much, and I'm looking forward to the next phase of my life. I'd be lying, though, to say that I don't miss the excitement, familiarity, and productivity of school. And the sense of purpose and direction. I'm still searching for those things, I guess. I'm excited to start something new, I just need to find a track to hop onto. I don't necessarily want to be going balls-to-the-wall fast like school was, but a little bit of momentum would be pretty nice.

I'm doing more cold-calling tomorrow.
-Cril

This song could be the one
To help you understand everything I’ve done
Maybe it’ll move you and you could see
I’ve been taking all my time to make the best of me

The proper lighting can make or break a room
So let’s bring a wall of LEDs in to illuminate the doom and gloom
We’ll let the sun brighten up the space
We’ll take time to make sure that every single thing is in its place
Then I’ll change your mind

Barenaked Ladies - The Fog of Writing