#52

Well, I've done it. With this post, at least.

It's the first time since 2012 that I've managed to write (on average) a post a week for the entire year. I gotta admit, somehow, that my heart hasn't quite been in it as it has been in the past. Think I'll try to keep going, though. It's good to have some sorta record of my life. For a while I was even keeping a physical daily journal, jotting down 3 notes a day about what I got up to. I should resume that.

So many "I should"s. Hrm.

This'll be my last year for the daily second video, though. While I still need to make the darn thing, I think the process has run its course. I think I captured three fairly formative years of my life (last year of school/graduation, a year in NY, and the first year of being a working stiff) and I manage to find and appreciate the little details of everyday life. I'd like to think it's made me a happier person.

2015 is done in about 12 hours. It was another good year, I think. Alas, I'm ending on a bit of a bad note as my health has taken a sudden swerve to the uncomfortable side. I haven't been this bad in years. It's all good.

I made one of those cheesy year-end letters that I gave to friends and family. Here are the (written) contents, with appropriate redactions to maintain this blog's self-imposed rules of semi-anonymity.

2015 has been pretty uneventful, but that’s exactly what I needed. After graduating from ____ with my Bachelor’s of Design in ___ and spending the better part of a year taking classes in New York, I was ready for some boring ol’ stability. So as of December of 2015, I’m proud to have completed my first year as a full time designer/junior art director at _____, where I’ve been working with clients like ___, ___, ___. I’ve been having fun, learning lots, working hard, and playing a bizarre amount of ping pong at lunch and after hours. 

Late last year I used  newfound my steady income to buy a hilariously unreliable 1987 Porsche 944. It’s awful in almost every single way, and I love every part of it. This summer I drove it all to both the ___ and ___ reunions, and it held up remarkably. Driving a Porsche and learning some auto maintenance has been a longtime goal of mine, and I’m having a blast. This one time, though, I decided to change the sparkplugs, and it somehow took me no less than three trips to the hardware store just to get the right tools. That part wasn’t so fun.

This fall I parked the Porsche and purchased a 1999 Honda Prelude to drive through the winter. It’s a great car and some of the features are wonderful (such as heated seats, a remote starter, and not breaking down all the time), but I’m already looking forward to the spring to get the Porsche back on the road. 

Another long standing goal of mine I started to work on this year was to take mandolin lessons. I used all of my graduation gift money to buy a higher-quality instrument to replace my beginner one, and towards the end of the summer I found a teacher. Progress is slow, but I’m enjoying myself and above all it’s been a great way to force myself to practice and play more often. Right now I’m learning the Huron Carol (so I can play a duet with Mary) and part of the the Stonehenge song from This is Spinal Tap (because my teacher is kinda awesome and kinda strange).

On the side I’ve been keeping myself extra busy with some freelance design work. I’m working on a medical consultation website service with a team based out of ___. I also made a website for a new events and promotion business, as well as edited together a commercial for the ___. I’ve been lucky to have a bunch of great opportunities to work on in my spare time, which keeps me from playing too many video games. They also help to pay the Porsche’s perpetual repair bill, which is nice.

Over the last few months I’ve also started dating a long-time friend, ___, who I worked with at ___ and ___. She’s an ____ hippie with both a ___ and ___ degree (I’m still trying to figure out how that works). She has a great sense of humour, does yoga and dance, is an awesome illustrator, and continually tries to introduce me to fancy organic foods that, quite frankly, confuse me. 

What will 2016 hold for me? It’s hard to say; I’m still trying to wrap my mind around getting paid to do something I enjoy, and using some of that money to do more things I enjoy. So if nothing else, hopefully I’ll be doing more of what I’ve started this year: steady employment, driving adventures (and subsequent auto repair adventures), mandolin lessons, and whatever other neat-o things I can squeeze in. Maybe I’ll even learn how baking works. 

It might be more entertaining to read that as a "fill in the blanks" exercise.

Anyways, that's it. Maybe that's more than it. Maybe... It's time to bring this whole blog thing to a close. I've made 477 posts across 10 years, and have had various sets of eyeballs create 13,000 total pageviews. Perhaps this thing has run its course. Hrm, indeed.

Let's see what 2016 is all about.
-Cril

Force Awakens

Star Wars. Yup, it's a thing.

As I was sitting in the theatre waiting for the feature to start, my cousin asked me "Do you think it's a good idea for them to make another Star Wars movie?" It kinda stumped me. If there's money to be made, it's not so much about if it's a good idea as much as it just being a matter of time. Despite my excitement for FA, I kinda wish they didn't need to make another trilogy. Or the prequels. I was pretty happy with the original set and the expanded universe. But to say "I wish they never made any more!" is kind of an old, grumpy thing to say. Regardless, they made the movie. And it was good.

I kinda felt like the movie spent half the time winking and nudging you as if to say, "Hey, see that? Yeah, it's a Star Wars movie. Get it? We made a Star Wars reference. Hah, did you catch that! It was like those other Star Wars movies you really liked!" Essentially, it felt like they mushed the good parts of A New Hope and Empire Strikes Back together.

And can you blame them? Stakes are pretty high on this one, and I have no doubt that they before they set off there was a LOT of discussion about what made the originals so good, and how they can give fans what they want.

The action was good, the art direction was good, the cast had good chemistry, the story established a solid foundation to build on... You can't really fault them for anything.

But it reminded me of the final episode of Breaking Bad: It did what it needed to do and checked off every last box that it needed to. It wasn't exactly anything too ground-breaking, either. Very well done, and very safe.

So I'll give it a solid 4/5, probably on par with Jedi or Hope. It didn't rock my world like Interstellar or Fury Road or Grand Budapest Hotel, though. But I'll still probably line up to see the sequel, so they've secured a few of my future dollars.
-Cril

Ballin' the Jack

Apparently Samurai Jack is going to be renewed in the new year. This news had approximately zero impact until I had several people point out to me how awesome the original series. So I figured I'd take it for a spin and would try it out. I was pleasantly surprised; it has a pretty unique premise and the art direction is FAN-FREAKIN-TASTIC. It's quite beautiful to watch, and has a simple and catchy illustration style. That said, the timing and pacing is a bit strange sometimes. I get the feeling they have about eight minutes of content that they need to switch out to fill up 20. Sometimes it's nice that they can take things slow, but most of the time I just find it a bit of a grind. Especially fights - they seem to just go on too long somehow.

At this point I'm early in the second season, but I'll be happy to keep watching. It's a light and fun show, and it's nice to have on while I tackle other things. 

In other news, Christmas shopping, work is busy, and drawing. I'm looking forward to getting some time off soon.

-Cril

Eats

My family was pretty broke when I was growing up. We'd eat out maybe four or five times a year. As a result, going to a restaurant (everything from a fast food drive thru to a proper sit-down meal) has always been a 'treat'. And that's still the case, somehow.

I usually budget $50 for eating out a month, but things at work over the last week have been pretty crazy, and the company gives us $15 for dinner if we're there late. So I'll work until 7-8 and grab food on my way home. I've eaten a lot of Subway, chinese, A&W, and such. It's strange, because staying late triggers in the back of my brain to go, "yeah, you get a treat!".

But at this point, I'm kinda sick of eating out. I'd rather just have the time to go home and eat something a bit simpler, and not have to ask for a receipt. I still want to eat out, though. It's a conflicting feeling. I'm getting more of it than I want, but the back of my head tells me I should have more. Bizzarre. It kinda makes me wonder if I'll ever be able to shake these associations, or if any kind of meal not cooked at home will always have a certain draw to it.
-Cril

Goldenish Rule

This has come up twice today, from two wildly different directions. But here it is:

Some days (most days) I wish I could make the official first commandment of all religions to be Thou shalt be groovy to each other.

Lately with the Paris thing, there've been lots of such discussion. And nothing will change, and this same kind of discussion will resurface again at the next religiously-driven atrocity. Yet it remains that many belief systems seem to outwardly focus on hating other people and their belief systems. Sexual orientation, political views, matters of faith all seem to be easily condemn-able material. Sometimes I wish people would focus more on how they can improve the world around them rather than worrying what others are doing/believing.

A lot of religions have rules, specific rules, as to how not be a dick. No stealing, so murdering, no cheatin', etc. The New Testament has some great general grooviness to it, what with "do unto others as you'd have them do unto you" and "what you do to these, the least of thine brothren, ye do unto me". I like those passages. A lot. But I guess because they're not explicitly part of the big shiny Ten Commandments they're automatically optional and can be pretended that they don't exist.

But is it really too much to ask for? That we just all try to be nice to eachother and realize that hey, if what the other person is doing doesn't harm anyone then more power to 'em.

That sure would be nice.
-Cril

Dry Day at the Office

I got into work this morning, and come 10AM I head to the water cooler for my regular glass of cool water. Lo and behold, nothing. Apparently a water main had burst. Yeah, maybe I should've been tipped off that something was afoot by the city trucks out front, back, and along the side of the building.

But no water. Got so damn thirsty during the day and I was too cheap to go across the street and buy something from the 7-11. Especially if it's water - why would you pay for that? One of the most pervasive cons of our time.

Then I had to go to the bathroom. In the porta-potty outside in the parking lot. Thankfully it was near freezing out, so there wasn't quite the same odeur as usual. But that didn't keep my butt cheeks from getting cold, or having to use hand sanitizer alone afterwards.

The whole thing just put a weird, unsettling cramp on my day. I think it's technically against the provincial labour code to work in a place without running water. I can see why.

Although, it almost makes you wonder what it's like living in Africa.
-Cril

Automotive Associations

This summer as I was in my 944 on the highway between Somewhere and Somewhere Else in BC, I passed a 911 driver going the other direction. He raised his hand out the window to me, and I waved back. Felt good, man. For a moment I felt like I was part of the Porsche Cool Club. It was oddly validating. The interesting thing, though, is that the other driver was part of a procession of some ~20 Porsches flying past, and was the only one to acknowledge me (in all my lowly 944 glory). To go one step further, he's been about the only other Porsche driver to offer a friendly gesture in the whole year I drove the car.

About a week after buying the Prelude, as I was walking out to it after work and thought to myself, "Damn, this thing looks like a boy racer/rice rocket". I was kinda dismayed. Yes, it drove nice and was comfortable and all that, but I realized it totally associates me as a try hard/tuner crowd wannabe.

Here's the thing though: in the two months I've had it, I've had about 4-5 friendly encounters with other Prelude drivers. A thumbs up, wave, nod... They seem like cool cats.

So maybe I'm not so fancy no more, but it's neat to be part of a Friendly Club for once.

Car culture is strange.
-Cril

Repetitive Pix

I just uploaded 31 photos to Flickr. Of those, about 28 are of my car. Of those, about 20 are nearly identical.

In September I resurrected a dormant tradition to pack up the camera, charge the iPod, fill up on gas, and just go for a drive on Labour Day weekend to wherever I think might be interesting. It started as a way to calm the nerves before another year of school, but these expeditions to wherever I thought might be neat were also a great way to just blast some tunes and enjoy what was left of the summer's driving weather. 

This year, though, I pretty much knew I had to park my 944 for the winter. Considering that can last 6-8 months and an alarming oil leak, I had some worries niggling at the back of my mind as to whether or not I'd get to go on any such drive again in this wonderful(ly maddening) machine of mine.  Just in case my Porsche affair was coming to an end, I figured I'd document the hell out of the thing.

So, yes, I've uploaded an embarrassing amount of seemingly uninspired and repetitive photos. But I like to think of it as a bit of a love letter, too. Every day I drove it, my 944 made me smile. And at the end of those days as I walk from the driveway towards the house, I had to look back over my shoulder and smile. 

I don't know what comes next, but I sure as hell am glad I did the stupid thing and bought a 30-year old entry-level Porsche. I mean, just look at it.

Ahhh.

-Cril

Things to Do (Get Off My Ass Edition)

Hard to believe we're already knee-deep in November. The weeks seem to be passing by alarmingly fast these days, and the end of the year is barreling up pretty quick. Kind of a subtle reminder that I need to get (and keep) my ass in gear to accomplish the things I want to.

Thing 1: RMA'd my video card, after being unable to replicate a system hang on a borrowed card. Alas, the problem persists. Next up, need to try a different power supply. Hopefully I can figure this out in time for year-end sales, so I can pick up whatever part I need.

Thing 2: Second-a-day videos. Have to do a few more to catch up, and then start making the grand video.

Thing 3: Needa see a dentist before my yearly insurance allowance disappears.

Thing 4: Wayyyy back on the Labour Day weekend I went for a drive and took some pictures. I have to finish editing them and put them up. I've been chipping away and am about 4-5 from being done.

Thing 5: I decided I want to make a Christmas Card, I think. That gives me about a month to actually get it done if I want to mail them out on time. Need to figure out what it's going to be/look like.

On the plus side, this weekend I finished sealing up my windows, ordered new glasses, and got an oil change. Three more things crossed off the list. Work's been pretty draining lately, though, and I've been crashing pretty hard once I get home. Need to stay on top of things.

Side note: Out of boredom (and laziness), I finally installed and played Mass Effect. I think I bought it about 4-5 years ago on Steam sale, and just beat it a few days ago. Good story and solid gameplay, save for a few minor frustrations. I'll tack ME2 and 3 onto my 'to watch list'. I', probably going to get Battlefront if the reviews are decent and a couple key people enjoy it, but when the year-end Steam sale comes around I'll see if I can pick up Mad Max, Arkham Knight, and Rebel Galaxy if they're on decent sale. Those should last me a little while.

Mind you, now that ME1 is out of the way and I have nothing interesting to play until Battlefront, I should have the time and boredom I need to start chipping away at those Things. Particularly the Christmas card. I should get crackin' on that one.
-Cril

Inktober Over-ober

Whelp, I survived Inktober. I failed miserably if the endeavour was defined by "draw every day for October". I probably only drew on twenty of the thirty-one days, but by the end of the month I had managed to produce 31 sketches. I think that's called 'the spirit of the law', and I'm totally okay with that. It was good to make a point of drawing (almost) every day. I should keep going, but with all these small commitments (every day there's a bit of freelance, practicing mandolin, cooking, writing, cleaning, etc etc) I'm finding it harder and harder to do more. I'm sure my inner 18-year-old is rolling his eyes at me for not having the time or energy to stay on top of the arts. But I want to do more, dangit.


Lately I've been in a lazy funk. I've been slow at work and just want to do nothing once I'm home. Let my eyes glaze over with the endless waterfall of meaningless internet junk. But it's not very fulfilling, you know? I guess that's why I have those small commitments. I worry about being lazy and stagnating at life. But sometimes we just need to slow things down, right? That's how she goes.

Right now I'm playing Mass Effect for some reason. The original, that is. I want to play the new Batman and Mad Max game, but I'm waiting for them to go on sale to justify the purchase. I may get myself the new Battlefront title. The only way I can justify that honkin' $80 price tag (or $140, for all the extra DLC...) is to call it a birthday present to myself. I have a couple weeks yet to decide, though, and getting a freelance invoice paid would certainly make the decision easier. We shall see.
-Cril

Belated Thanks

Things are goin' alright, you know? I've been working full time for a year now. I usually work late, but who can complain about that when you can expense dinner, and you know, you're working at a job you like? I even play ping pong in the basement over the lunch. I'm having fun, most days. I'm driving to and from work in a sport-ish car with a phat subwoofer in the trunk. I have a hot red sports car I drove over the summer, with an oil leak under the hood. I live in a bit of an underground lair, which is cold and dark. But it's the right size, and it's mine. I get to cook my own meals when and how I please.

I'm making some money, and saving it for vacations and entertainment. I have the odd freelance project, which I use to make money and save even more. I'm taking mandolin lessons. I suck, and the progress is slow, but that's how such things go. I have a beefy computer that (when it isn't randomly crashing) gets around 100FPS in GTA Online. That number's just ridiculous.

I got friends and family I care for and care for me. I even got a girlfriend, for all the challenge, confusion, and general wonder that brings into my life. I sketch, I noodle on my ukulele at work, I listen to the autumn leaves crunch beneath my feet, and I chomp on home made sweet and sour pork. I go to the theatre to watch the odd movie, and go to the Netflix for most of everything else.

I think life's alright.

My mom made the quip on the phone about how just when you're starting to get settled, life will throw you just enough of a curve ball to catch you off balance. As John Lennon once sang, 'life's what happens when you're busy making other plans' (mind you, by that definition you could say that life is what ended up killing him). I think that's pretty accurate. Makes me wonder what's waiting for me just around the bend. Lose my job? Car get stolen? Sick family member? Makes me anxious on some level, but there's no use in sweating over hypotheticals. In the mean time, it's just steady as she goes.

Y'know, with the odd trip to New York thrown in.

I'm a lucky dude.
-Cril

I Vot'd

I don't know why, exactly. I don't pay very close attention to politics in the first place, and prior to arriving at the polls and staring down the barrel of a stubby golf pencil at the ballot, I had no idea who was even running in my riding.

I think that, as I grow older, something in me is changing that makes me want to care/participate. I still think that most politicians are sleazbags that I primarily interested in maintaining their sleazbag status. They all end up being the same, scandals and all, to the point where I'm not sure if it really matters voting for one party over the other.

But I voted. Not so much for a particular party, just against one. In doing so I came across two biases.

First, Justin Trudeau. Should I vote for him? I mean, is he old enough? Can he handle the responsibility? Wait a minute. Does that someone even ten more years of age away from myself would magically be a more logical choice? After all, the likes of Elon Musk and Larry Page seem to be doing alright at the head of their respective mega corporations. If they can change the world, why can't someone of their age lead a country? The thing is, I think I'd have infinitely more respect for one person that knows how to surround themselves with specialists and listen to their opinions, rather than one person that knows all and acts on his own accord. One's a leader, the other's a meglomaniac. Sure, maybe you can accumulate more knowledge with age, but I'd like to think we generally learn to listen to and work with others from a much earlier age.

In the end, I think we're just used to seeing 50-60 year old presidents. They win elections, so that fuels their image/stereotype in the media, which influences voters in the next election. It's an infinite loop that isn't really based on much.

Not that I'm necessarily saying a 20-year-old should run a country, but I don't think someone should be retirement age in order to qualify for the position.

Paying so little attention to politics, on the lead up to the election I spoke with everyone I knew to see how they'd vote. I got a pretty uniform answer. "Whoa," I thought, "this party is going to win by a landslide!". So I voted in line with my peers, only to discover that the party of choice lost in my riding. By 2% of the vote. So while I was absolutely certain that it'd be a landslide victory, it turns out that every other person I pass on the street where I live voted for someone else.

It's a bit of a rude awakening to realize that your world view doesn't necessarily match everyone else. Not only that, but all those statements of opinion you make with confidence turns out to only shared with a minority of the public. Straaaange.

Too often I think that people cry foul and declare that the world is coming to a certain end because their political party/candidate of choice didn't win. In reality, those people just need to realize that they don't represent the majority of their fellow country members. It's not that the country is headed to hell in a handbasket, but that you opinions and interests are more specialized than you thought, and therefore aren't necessarily worth catering to when keeping in mind the benefit of your average citizen.

Democracy, man. It's a helluva thing.
-Cril

Trubbleshootin'

I won't lie, on some deep-down level I enjoy troubleshooting computer problems. Most of the time it's a logic-driven process that requires research and deliberate problem solving. And yes, the rest of time it's just an utterly maddening process that defies all reason or common sense.

But usually, it's pretty straight forward. Error logs, drivers, OS updates, disabling features. Unfortunately, at some point you run into a wall where there's nothing else you can do but start swapping out hardware in order to narrow it now. Thing is, it's not like you just happen to have a spare video card or power supply sitting around. Let alone one that's compatible with the rest of the possible culprits.

If I were an entrepreneur (and a dumb one at that), I'd start a business where I loan out components for people to troubleshoot their systems. It would, of course, go bust in short order (I'm guessing there aren't a whole lot of DIY computer folks out there, never mind the fact that PCs are in decline). But at least then you could pay $5 to borrow a video card for a couple days instead of purchasing one brand-new and paying a ridiculous restocking fee for returning it.

Anyways. After lucking out and borrowing a video card, I think I've managed to conclude that mine has been the source of some random hanging. I've even gotten the gears turning on an RMA (yaaay EVGA). Alas, I have a sneaking suspicion that my PSU might yet be the culprit. I really hope it's the video card, because I'm not sure where I can borrow a power supply from...
-Cril

Blocked

It’s a sucky thing when you realize that you’ve done buggered up so thoroughly that someone you care about and respect has decided to cut you out of their life.

I recently stumbled upon a piece of advice that said, “Making a mistake doesn’t mean you’re a bad person.” While true, I can’t help but feel like it can still make you bad at being a person.

Such is life, right? Still makes me wish I woulda/coulda done things differently, though.

-Cril

Back again, back again, jiggity jig.

Sometimes reminiscing can be a fickle and whimsical thing. To be conjured up for fun or nostalgia's sake. It lands like a bird and chirps away and flies away again.

Other times, though, it lands like a brick to the face.

"REMINISCE?" it asks.

"YOU WANT TO REMINISCE? LET'S REMINISCE!"

And thus a few weeks after waxing poetic about the last year of life, I find myself suddenly, borderline inexplicably, back in New York.

At first it was surreal, like taking a tour bus through a dream I had twenty years ago. And then it all kinda comes back. Oddly enough, the smell of the subway – that mix of sweat and vomit covered up by industrial cleaners – kinda snapped me back to reality. Yes, I know this place. I lived here. I'm not just a tourist in a strange town.

The first order of business (and menu) was to hit up the Halal Guys for dinner. Then I went to Birdland for dessert and took in a set of jazz by Barbara Carroll. I even bought a souvenir set of playing cards. Not getting to see any jazz was one of my big regrets. Not getting any souvenirs was another.

The next morning (this morning) I went to get a big fat cinnamon raising bagel smothering half a pint of strawberry cream cheese. Didn't have enough of those.

And then I walked by SVA's doors. Just to see it, just to touch base and check-in with one of the most incredible experiences I've ever had. I miss it, I really do.

It's funny how having a little bit of money changes things. All of the sudden I'm able to enjoy things and breathe at the same time. The jazz alone cost me $50, but was worth it. And I could actually enjoy it.

So this trip has been a bit of a redemption... To make up for some of the things I missed out on and appreciate the city when I'm not behind the lens of a broke, stressed student. It's also good to know that even though I didn't land a big time gig in New York, I'm still doing alright. I got a job, and here I am travelling to the big city.

Maybe I'm not the hoitiest-of-toitiest of designers, but still. I think I did alright. I even get to go back home to my two (!!) cars. One of which is a Porsche, even.

I dunno. Maybe my brain does funny things in a Connecticut hotel after an absurd amount of travelling in a short amount of time. But I'd like to think that my head is in better place because of this whole thing.

And to think it was just dumped in my lap. Life is strange sometimes.
-Cril

Post-September Chills

Oof, big couple weeks. People havin' babies, gettin' girlfriends, doin' travellin', buyin' bidnesses, buyin' cars. And working late. Oh yes, lots of that.

I'm gettin' kinda sick of the long hours. Some of them are self-imposed, mind you. Even though I'm workin' hard to stay on top of things and doing the best I can, I've been feeling kinda useless at work. I've let a few, dumb, stupid mistakes slip through the cracks, and I get the feeling that my boss isn't overly happy with anything I produce. It doesn't help that he's a bit over worked and under-vacationed, and is getting kinda agitated. It doubly doesn't help that I'm super receptive to that kind of tension and it kinda wrecks my concentration. Sigh. Work sucks. Except when it doesn't.

The other week I was feeling that my boss was getting fed up with me and was inches from letting me go. I don't know if that's even remotely close to the truth or not, but I was in a funk for a little while. But I figure, hey, if they let me go something else will come along, right? I'm living cheap and can live even cheaper if I need to. If no one will take a chance on me, maybe I can get by flipping burgers for a living. I even have some emergency savings should something like that transpire. Life will go on, in one way or another.

In other news, winter has come out of nowhere and landed with the grace of a muddy brick. Things are suddenly cold. I've started winterizing my basement suite, sealing the windows with plastic sheets and foam. There's not much I can do.

In other other news, I have internet access! Yes, I'm sure that's quite surprising, coming from someone posting to a web site. My upstairs housemates moved out last week, and took the wifi with them. So I got my own account and was hooked up this morning. Only $25 a month, until it's $70 a month. ISPs are such a racket.

Also, welcome to Inktober. The goal is to draw once a day for the entire month, and was a welcome challenge when my internet pal approached me to do it with him. I haven't drawn much in... months. Haven't done any freelance or design or anything. Just work and movies and gaming. It'll be nice to do something more constructive.
-Cril

A(nother) Year

Well, it's been a year. A year since I started my new job. A year (give or take a few months) since I finished my post-secondary education I returned to my home country, my home town, and then my new home town.  I returned to my old job, and then went to my new job.

So far things are going pretty good. I'm enjoying the work, getting paid well. While I'm learning lots, it's not as much as I was during school. That's not necessarily a bad thing, but all of the sudden my my insistence to not take my education any further has wavered. A masters? Yeah, that'd be kinda fun. I miss the air of creativity and evolution under pressure. Maybe some day. Or maybe not.

What else? The plates on my Porsche 944 expire in three days, which means I've been back on the road for a full year. Rather than renew the registration, I went out and got a brand new plate for a new/used Honda Prelude. Admittedly, that has more to do with having a reliable/comfortable car for the harsher months of the year. I drove the Porsche one last time while I was running around getting it prepped for winter storage. Compared to the Prelude, it's so much lower, the steering wheel is heavier, the clutch is smooshy, and the engine is slower and grumpy. Reminds me of why I love it so much. I feel bad parking it for the next six months, almost as if I don't appreciate it enough or am cheating on it. These are probably the thoughts of some one that thinks too much, though. Either way, seeing it tucked in beneath a grey car cover makes me sad. But at the same time, a bit excited for another spring and summer.

I've been cooking. I made sweet and sour pork, pancakes, stir fry, stroganoff, and a handfull of other meals that aren't actually that impressive until you take into account how I ate minor variations of the same three meals for the last four years I was in school. I'm also buying/eating more produce and other healthier-ish items.

I made a computer and have binged on more than a couple games. Feels good to get it out of the system.

I have not been drawing, though. Apparently the next month can be referred to as 'Inktober', so I'm hoping to get back on the wagon, even if it's for a short time.

I started taking mandolin lessons. Progress is slow, and seems to only happen when I'm looking the other way. It's frustrating, but such is life.

I went on a road trip over the summer to BC. In my red Porsche. It was wonderful.

I got my first traffic violation - a parking ticket. It makes me feel like an idiot, but considering it's my first offense since I started driving 14 years ago, I think I'm doing alright.

I helped renovate my friend's house so they could sell it. It was a great experience, and felt good to help in a way that's really appreciated by people I care about.

I did a fistful of repairs to my 944 - new distributor cap, ignition wires, vacuum tubing, spark plugs, and a throttle body rebuild. Not bad for a beginner. Makes me wish I had a garage I could park in and work on things over the winter... There's so much to do, and I enjoy the work.

The last few weeks have been tough. I drove my Porsche to get the oil changed, completely forgetting I took the plates off of it. I had to bus home and back before I could go any further. I've made some stupid mistakes at work. Also made some mistakes along the way. Last week I sent flowers to an ex, as a friendly gesture. It was a stupid thing to do, and I feel stupid about it. She was understandably pissed off at me. What an impressively insensitive thing to do. Gah. Some days I feel like I'm getting dumber with each passing year. Sometimes each passing day. Gotta get out of this rut.

A year. A big, fat year has passed by. Was it everything I had hoped for? I don't know. I feel like I'm making leaps and bounds in some areas, and falling down on my face in others. When I was in school I had such clarity about all the things life should be, and about how great everything would be. And don't get me wrong, life is great. It always is. But I don't know if it's as awesome as pre-graduation, stressed and anxious me had envisioned. Maybe nothing is ever as fantastic as hopes forged in times of duress would make them out to be. That's alright, though, as long as I keep chuggin' along and having a good time wherever I can.
-Cril

Parking Signs

Dear Diary,

Today I was That Guy. That Guy who parked his red Porsche sports car in a handicap zone. That Guy who's Caucasian, in his late 20's, strutting around in his office-casual attire, and working in an advertising firm.

You know, that kind of That Guy who makes you think, "what a tool bag. I hope he gets a big, fat ticket."

And that's what happened. Inside the That Guy brain of mine I was thinking "What? I parked in a handicap zone? Gahhhh! How did I miss that! Why did I do that! I'm an idiot!"

It was an honest mistake. But after reading "Red Porsche" on the ticket, I realized EXACTLY what I must've looked like.

In actuality, sometimes That Guy is just a dufus.
-Cril

An Evening in Los Santos

So I've been playing GTA Online. More than I should, actually; I'm working on completing 28 consecutive days of daily objectives. I suspect that once I finish that (five more days to go...) I'll throttle back sharply. That isn't to say it's a bad game, and sometimes the chaos of it all can be kind of neat.

It started off as most GTA sessions do: I got shot in the face to death while trying to outrun the police for whatever 3-star infraction I made. As a result, once I respawned my personal vehicle had been impounded.

"Jumping over the fence to break out my vehicle is so boring. I'm going to do this right." And thus I went and got a giant military cargo helicopter that I was going to use to lift my vehicle out of the clutches Lost Santos' finest. Upon arriving at the lot, I found that my vehicle had been destroyed, so I started buzzing local traffic out of boredom. Lo and behold the helicopter's hook latched on to a random commuter, and I lifted it up into the air with me.

I decided that the most prudent course of action would be to hunt down a nearby player being chased by the police and try to drop my load on (or even near him). Apparently flying around with a car in tow does horribly things to a helicopter's maneuverbility, and after one too many tight turns between buildings, the attached car snagged on a building and caused me to do a fiery face plant into the side of a skyscraper. All hands were instantly lost. I respawned.

Lo and behold, a message appeared "hey crilix u want a lift?". Apparently my shenanigans were being watched.

"Sure!"

Moments later, a sleek, gold passenger helicopter descended into a nearby intersection. I got in and joined another player in the back, where we sipped champagne while the pilot took to the sky. A few minutes later, I was dropped off in the parking lot of the golf course (I had forgotten about the waypoint I set there a little while ago).

I thanked him for the ride, he said it was no problem.

I played a round of golf and scored 3 strokes under par.

There's a certain and strange beauty in moments like those that can only be found in an online game. Chaos and spontaneous hostility, broken up by a very odd flavour of casual kindness. Think about it; I went from trying to drop a car on another driver to getting an air taxi lift to a game of golf, as if it was just the guy's job to ferry people around.

What a neat experience.
-Cril

An Eastern European Dinner

Here's the thing about eastern European women - when they ask you to dinner, it isn't so much request or invitation or suggestion. No, the question itself is entirely rhetorical. You are coming to eat. Not only that, there will be no less than three dishes (plus vegetables) to choose from, on top of dessert.

And so it was that after dropping off my friend from the airport, I found myself making small talk and eating a curious chicken stew with her and her parents.

On the way up the walk after (politely) failing to decline her mother's invitations, I quietly checked with my friend that it wouldn't be weird if I stayed. She replied that of course it wouldn't be - it'll be nice and will help make things feel like normal.

You see, her father is dying.

My friend flew into town to stay with her family for a month, following the news that her dad's experimental chemo treatment in Florida had failed and his cancer is inoperable.

The structure of this post so far is pretty spotty. But such was my headspace for the evening.



He didn't have any hair, and I couldn't shake his hand or make any physical contact. His eyes were bright with a sharp intelligence, but were ultimately betrayed by a gaze full of exhaustion. It's strange - I've never met the man before, but I couldn't help but feel that I was almost speaking with an imposter. You got the sense that something was out of place and the person you should be talking with is in the other room.

But we did talk. I was not even remotely expecting to stay for dinner. Had I known that I might have even met her family, I certainly would not have worn my communist party shirt. It's one thing to wear around friends and peers, but it's another for people that were governed by a Dear Leader. We ended up having a casual discussion about the horrible things Stalin did.

He had a thick accent that I was slow to understand sometimes. I always feel inadequate in those situations, as if I'm not trying hard enough to understand or I'm not good enough at listening. Here's a perfectly intelligent person (perhaps moreso than I am), speaking English, and I keep asking variations of, "I'm sorry?" and "Pardon?" Very frustrating.

We all ended up talking about Canadian politics, airport security, terrorism, and the eccentricities of AirBnB users.

In a way, it was a really beautiful moment. It was a really intimate look into a recently reunited family under incredible pressure.

Yeah, sure, maybe for them I was able to help the meal feel "normal". For me... I was on edge. This situation is not a small thing. Her father's illness is not a small thing. I want to get all philosophical about a person knowingly being near the premature end of their life, but it seems like a disservice to the people I shared a meal with. After being close to my friend through her father's sickness, what I think about things seems so futile and insignificant next to the pain and fear that these people are living.

What am I supposed to say? I'm a dude in his late 20's, working his first career job, with a stupid red sports car and a gaming computer. I know nothing that compares, and even all these jumbled words just seem... like a clumsy way to wrap my head around it.

I appreciated their hospitality and openness in a vulnerable time. I wish them all the best and hope that whatever peace that can be found in such a situation will be found.

Life sucks.
-Cril

If it ain't dead
Maybe in the here after
Instead of tears
I'll learn all about laughter
But meanwhile I'm stuck out here

It just ain't fair, but I know
I said I know
Oh yes, I know
There must be a better world somewhere
There's just gotta be
Gotta be a better world somewhere

Dr. John - There Must Be a Better World Somewhere

Small Things

Car's fixed. I hate to admit it, but it took me a solid 30mins to get the distributor cap properly mounted. I have no idea what Porsche was thinking with those spring-loaded, right angle screws. But I got it in eventually, and I really hope I never have to take it back off.

Autumn started this week. Even though all the trees are still full of leaves, there's a subtle coolness in the air. And we got a brief hit of winter, too - we had two days of solid rain, and on the second one there were odd flecks of damp snow scattered throughout.

It's got me thinking about how I'm going to get around over the winter. I don't think I should be taking the 944 out. The salt is going to eat it alive and it takes a while to warm up in the cold. I can't imagine it's particularly good for it to be running in extreme temperatures, either.

That's all I got. I'm feeling a bit out of it tonight.
-Cril

Mystery Box

So late on Sunday I ordered a part from Amazon I needed to complete a car repair. I threw in a ping pong paddle so that I a) got free shipping and b) didn't have to keep using a decrepit communal bat when I play at work.

Then on Tuesday, something strange happened. A package came for me. And it was not from Amazon (oddly enough, that one came the next day. Three day service for free shipping ain't nothin' to sneeze at). It was brown. It had "Bespoke Post" written on the side, with "Frontier" on the tape holding the lid closed.

I had no idea what it was, who it was from, or why my name is on the shipping label. And the thing is, I still don't.

Inside the package was a fountain pen, old school pocket knife, cast iron bottle opener, and a nice notebook. They're all wonderful of wonderful quality, and even though the whole package is incredibly hipster-tastic, I was really impressed. After doing some research, I found out the package is worth about $55 and sent from a US company.

What really gets me, though, is how there wasn't a single clue as to who sent it to me. No note. Nothing on the shipping label. I asked around, and none of my friends, family, or coworkers will fess up to being the culprit of spontaneous kindness. My boss suggested it was a free sample, as I'm an art director at a marketing firm. Alas, upon reaching out to the company, they told me they were not able to disclose who had made the purchase.

Darn.

So now I have this brown box sitting on my desk, full of great little objects I'm hesitant to use. I wish I knew who it was from. I like the contents, I want to keep them. But it just doesn't feel right delving in if they're surrounded by mystery and I can't appreciate the person behind the gesture.

At its worst, it could be from a certain someone that won't leave me alone despite my wishes (and several demands) that they never have anything to do with me again. If I find out that's indeed the source, I'll have no choice but to return the items in perfectly unused conditions.

At its best, I've done something someone has appreciated and is thanking me for. I'm okay with that. I just wish I could thank them in return.

So the beautiful brown box shall continue to sit.

I hate mysteries.
-Cril

Sonic Escape - Circle the Sea

Car Repairs and Such

This is a reminder that not all car repairs will go well. After replacing all the vacuum tubing and rebuilding the throttle body a month ago, last weekend I replaced all the spark plugs and distributor cables. That last job made a world of difference - the engine now revs silky smooth. That last 'repair' was relatively simple (yes, even though I made not one but THREE trips to the hardware store for appropriate tools) and I managed to do it all on my own. It left me feeling doubly confident.

This weekend's task was also fairly simple: replace the ignition coil, distributor cap, and rotor. I started with the coil, which came out just fine. Upon opening the new one, though, I discovered that it requires a ballast resistor that I don't have. Ok, fine, I'll put the old coil back in while I order in the new part... Alas, I can't get the clamp/harness to close for some reason. It's truly boggling - there's a quarter inch gap between the clamp and the tab it's supposed to be bolted to. So the plan is to go and get a slightly longer bolt to make up the distance. Hopefully it should be pretty simple to find one.

Ok, fine, if I can't take care of that right now, I may as well do the distributor, right? It was a breeze to remove the old one, but lo and behold, the single allen bolt holding on the rotor required a metric wrench (ah, the glories of working on a German vehicle). Once I got the right tool and despite being slightly stripped to begin with, the bolt came off without any drama. I don't want to use the same bolt, though, so I'll add that to the list of parts to get.

So in a nutshell, I'm waiting on a ballast resistor to arrive and I need to find two new bolts. Not the end of the world, not complex, but it's still being more difficult than I had anticipated. At least I haven't really broken anything. Yet.

And on the plus side, I'm slowly building up my collection of tools (over the last two weeks, I've acquired a torque wrench, spark plug socket, socket extension, a mini-ratchet with additional screw bits, and a metric allen key set. I'm gettin' there.

It's worth noting that I'm enjoying myself, even if I can't quite get some of the grease and gunk out from under my nails.

---

Following two recommendations within a short time span from people that don't know each other, I decided to give Bojack Horseman another shot after being unimpressed with the first episode. I skipped to episode 5 or so, and the show slowly transformed into something more interesting. It turns into a cartoon about, yes, celebrity and such, but also depression and self-esteem. While the human/animal mix is interesting, overall the humour is... passable. But the darker themes are what kept me coming back to binge-watch the two seasons over the course of a week and a half.

---

I took my first mandolin lesson on Friday. My teacher, as he put it, can play the mandolin but doesn't call himself a mandolin player. Despite that and seeming a little scatter-brained, he's a nice dude that seems to know his stuff. Even if the quality of instruction doesn't turn out to be that great, the main thing is that the weekly lessons will force to me to practice and try new material. I've become pretty aware that without some external pressure, some things tend to fall by the wayside. If I'm paying $25 a week, I'll make sure to be playing more often (or dare I say, regularly). Hopefully it works. We shall see.
-Cril

Call me a relic, call me what you will

I think that one of the dirtiest tricks time plays on us isn't that we get to watch those around us die, or that our minds become dull like an abused pocket knife. I think it's the illusion that we stay exactly the same while the world goes on, and goes to mad.

I spent some time with my parents the other week as we vacationed together and attended not one, but two family reunions. Somewhere along the way she made a comment about how dumb flat-brimmed baseball caps are. Why on earth are they catching on. Why would anyone wear one.

Fashion. It's fashion. I won't claim that they catch my fancy either, but the world evolves. It's scary how out-of-date everyone looks in a school yearbook from just 15 years ago. I don't think there's a single yearbook that ages well, where people today would look at it and say, "Yeah, I totally dig that hairstyle and those glasses. I have no idea why they never went out of style." Makes you wonder all the horrible things that we're wearing now that will look stupid a few more years down the road.

There's this old lady I tutored for a time, and now occasionally help with computer problems. All the time she remarks about how, as a young lady, people were so much nicer and kind. No one stole anything, there was less crime, and overall the world was a much safer place to be.

I think that, as a whole, society tends to favour the younger generation and looks fondly on a certain degree of naiveness. I've enjoyed the benefits of that so far, and I can already see that as I age those benefits are starting to wear off. It's just how it is. And as for crime and safety... Statistically speaking, things are better now more than they've ever been.

There's this older guy I know, who isn't aging to well. He'll be on oxygen for the rest of his life, doesn't have a lot of money, and drives a used minivan. He's gifted me his bicycle (because he's too weak to ride) and sold me his DSLR (too heavy to old). He's a kind dude, has some amazing stories and a treasure-trove of skills, but can be pretty depressing to be around. He talks about how there's nothing these days to enjoy and the world is miserable. I was at a party with him once and a few of us were discussion music when he remarked that "The Beatles ruined rock and roll, and there hasn't been anything good on the radio ever since." If you go to YouTube and look through the comments for any The Band or Led Zeppelin videos, you'll see the same sentiment repeated ad naseum. Commenters coming along, with an air of objective, non-biased authority to assert their utterly biased opinion that "music these days just isn't what it used to be."

Now, I undoubtedly skew towards enjoying older music myself, but that above statement is so full of self-important crap, from people who miss their youth so much that they need to tell themselves that their early-adulthood culture was superior to any and all others. Newsflash. Before the older generation was complaining about pop or rap compared to rock, there was another that complained about what an abomination rock n' roll was versus their beloved and wholesome swing. Before that, swing and jazz was considered the abomination.

It's all the same. No doubt, the music of today will be seen as superior to that of 2045. Same goes for fashion, TV, literature. It's just a cycle that will repeat and repeat, as long as there is a younger generation and an older generation and a gap between them.

Maybe youth is alluringly deceptive, or maybe age is breeds bitterness. In the end, I think it's just all the same. What I'm scared of is become a bitter old man that can't see this cycle. I'm not saying that I need to even like the latest hot band. I just need to recognize that it isn't my taste, and it's not therefore inferior. I don't want to get stuck in this self deluded sense of superiority, thinking that the history of anything and everything clearly peaked when I was in my 20's and 30's. What a narrow view of things. Yeah, growing older grants you a great deal of universal wisdom. But it also robs some of their sense of perspective.

I was chatting with a friend a few months ago about the nature of life and death, and I told him that the biggest reason I fear death is that I won't get to see what comes next. Our planet/species has made such incredibly strides during my lifetime (never mind even over the 100 years), that it excites me to see what we're capable of another 20, 50, 100 years down the road. I dare you to successfully explain what the Internet will become to a farmer during the great depression. Now just imagine what kind of advances there are to come that a mere designer from 2015 won't be able to comprehend.

The thing is, though, there are some people who are alive, but have shut down. People who don't get to 'see' these modern miracles, because they're too deep in their opinion that it's all going to hell anyways.

Please, please don't let me be grow old and bitter. Let me see and appreciate the world how it is for as long as I have air in my lungs.
-Cril

Just take those old records off the shelf
I'll sit and listen to 'em by myself
Today's music ain't got the same soul
I like that old time rock 'n' roll

Bob Seger - Old Time Rock n' Roll

Chuckin' It

So the other weekend I just passed a major milestone in my quest to graduate from Graduate to Actual Adult. I went out, and for the first time in my life, bought a pair of shoes that cost more than $40. In fact, they cost double that. At the behest of a friend and a girl from work, I replaced some cheap and rapidly deteriorating Chuck-like Walmart sneakers with a brand new pair of plain-Jane, black and white leather Converse Chuck's. $80. Not even on sale or anything.

They're pretty nice and comfortable. The laces are oddly short (surely, a conspiracy to purchase new ones), but they look pretty good. I feel somehow proud of myself for having something of quality and of a brand that isn't generic-sounding and reeking of a budget shelf. I don't know if I should be proud of the fact, though, that I've bought into some big brand name. Does it make me cooler now? A sellout? Or just desperate? Who cares.

One thing's for sure, though. I am going to be mighty pissed if these things don't last more than 6 months. That must've been the main point of the whole purchase in the first place.

Anyways, onwards and upwards.
-Cril

Chikkin'

So I think I just had the best darn chicken I've ever had in my life. Even weirder? I made it. After literally clicking on the first link after Googling "how to prepare a chicken breast". So here it is, in a nutshell. Why? Mainly for future reference, as another saved link will just get lost in the collection of all the other saved links I've never visited twice.

1. Beat dat chicken (flatted it out).
2. Season dat chicken (I used some seasoning salt, Italian herbs, and a bit of garlic powder)
3. Put some olive oil into a pan and warm it up on high. 
4. Reduce head to medium/high, and put in dat chicken. Cover the pan.
5. After a minute, flip dat chicken over.
6. After another minute, set the heat to low and let it simmer on low (with the lid still on) for 10 minutes.
7. Turn off the heat and let it sit (still with the lid on) for another 10 minutes.
8. Eat dat chicken. It will be delicious and unbelievably moist.

Bonus step: Take the runoff from the chicken pan and drizzle it over dem potatoes for extra flavour.

I know this sounds weird, but this is probably the first time I've cooked with proper chicken in ~2 years, so I was pleasantly surprised that it turned out so well. 

Lately I've been getting tired of eating, and I find that having new/different things to eat gives me incentive to not miss a meal. Plus, I get to learn how to make something new. Although, the question arises, am I going to run out of new things to try? I still need to be somewhat responsible with my grocery budget. Which, fun fact, has increased from $120/mo while I was in school to a whopping $200 now. In the back of my mind I worry about losing my job and having to go back to $120 a month, which makes for a pretty repetitive diet (things like ground beef very quickly turn into a 'treat'). But I guess it makes just as much sense to worry about that as it does running out of new recipes to try. 

In the mean time, I'll be having me some kickass chicken.

-Cril

Say everyone's talking 'bout chicken

Chicken's a popular word

But anywhere you go, you're bound to find

A chicken ain't nothin' but a bird

Some folks call it a fowl

That's the story I heard

But let 'em call it this and let 'em call it that

A chicken ain't nothin' but a bird

You can boil it, roast it, broil it

Cook it in a pan or a pot

Eat it with potatoes, rice or tomatoes

But chicken's still what you got, boy

It was a dish for old Caesar

Also King Henry the Third

But Columbus was smart, said, "You can't fool me,

A chicken ain't nothin' but a bird"

Cab Calloway - A Chicken Ain't Nothin' But A Bird Lyrics

I'm Qualified

It's been a good couple of weeks.

First, I played The Stanley Parable.

What an incredible, fantastic game. Not only is it an emotional and horrifying experience, but it's surreal too. Do you remember that moment in the original Arkham Asylum, when the game "crashes" and restarts? This game takes that sense of genuinely intelligent player manipulation and runs wild with it. I'm not going to spoil it, because to spoil it would absolutely ruin the experience. But I had fun, so much fun, that I found my mouth was cycling between being agape with disbelief and amazement to being a huge grin. I don't think I've ever played a game that has pushed its medium and the preconception of storytelling so far. Incredible, incredible experience.

Just get it on sale - the price they're asking is a bit steep.

Still gets 5/5, though.

---

Next, I played GTA5. Still am working my way through it, actually. Much to my chagrin, I can only get it to run on low settings, lest is causes my computer to hang every hour or so. Nevertheless, the game is good. Really good. Whereas Stanley is a radical new idea, GTA5 is an old idea that has been cooked to perfection. The gameplay is fun, the handling solid, it looks good (yes, even on low settings), and so far it's well written. It's even a bit less repetitive than previous iterations of the franchise.

I don't know why, but only now am I really appreciating the game's writing. And I'm not even talking about anything plot related, but everything world related. The stupid billboards, the obtuse strangers on the street, the bizarre commentary from the radio DJs. Yes, it always been chock full of parody, but now I'm kinda realizing just how well conceived it is.

Here's something for you: Jimmy (Michael's deadbeat son) and Trevor are the same character, one which is a commentary on gamer culture. Trevor's life is the endless smack Jimmy talks, but followed through with. And it's all a critique of the very people buying and playing GTA. Hell, I'd go so far as to say that Jimmy is/was inspired by how players act outside of the screen, and Trevor is inspired by how players act on the screen (probably in GTA in particular).

Anyways, it's good, and I've been enjoying it. I can tell it's good because I can't seem to put the damn thing down and have stayed up playing until 2AM before heading into work bleary-eyed 6 hours later.

---

In other news, with the aid of my uncle and his vast collection of tools and mechanical intuition, I did some repairs to my car this weekend. Over six hours we did the mundane (installed a new washer fluid pump), the slightly challenging (changed out all the vacuum hosing), to THE FRIGGIN' INTENSE (removed, cleaned, and rebuilt the throttle body). This last one was quite the feat - the air intake had to be completely removed and many parts unclamped and unscrewed. Then we took off the TB and transformed it into a collection of tiny bits which were scrubbed and reassembled with new seals. It was quite the ordeal and very nerve-wracking to not just remove such an integral part, but utterly take it apart.

But we got everything put back together, and when I turned the ignition... It worked just fine.

I'm not sure if the improvement was worth $250 in parts and 12 man hours of labour (the throttle response is now a bit more crisp and consistent), but I think it's safe to say that the whole process was probably one of the most badass things I've ever done. And I learned a TON too, which was a big part of why we did it in the first place.

And damn, did it leave me feeling empowered. We must've left a leak somewhere, because all that fuel-infused hot air has gone directly to my head. I CAN NOW FIX ANYTHING, AND HAVE FUN DOING SO. I DON'T NEED NO MECHANIC.

I just need the tools. And specialty parts. And someone walking me through the tricky bits.

I'm actually going to bring the car into a shop to get some hefty alignment work done, but am currently planning to do my own tune up (high voltage cables, distributor, coil, spark plugs) and cleaning out the idle air control (which'll involve removing the fuel rail). I hope I have as much luck (and fun) with the latter two as I did this weekend.

Here's to more successful repairs down the road, hopefully all of them more preventive than not.
-Cril

Lookey here
Better hurry up and check it out
Lookey here, lookey here

Your steak ain't no hipper than my porkchop
Your Cadillac ain't no hipper than my bus stop
Your champagne ain't no hipper than my soda pop

Lookey here, I'm ready to take care of business
Have no fear, I'm already here

Dr. John - Qualified

Picked Last

We play ping pong at work (during lunch and at the end of the day, of course). Here's the kicker: I am by far and away the worst player in the office. Sure, we have two new employees that have started playing and I can beat them. But they're rapidly progressing faster than I am, and in no time I'll be back to being that guy that can't win against anyone.

It's funny; after all those years in school learning new programs and materials and taking tests, I kinda had this underlying belief that I'd float to the top of whatever it is I set my mind to. And here I am, being one to the people that practices (or plays, rather) the most and can't seem to get anywhere near the winner's circle. I find myself thinking, "Wait, really? What's wrong with me?", as if usually all I do is will success to happen.

But it doesn't. Not with a ping pong paddle in hand, and not after 2000 serves in 100 games. It just won't come.

And then I think back to those glorious highschool days, where I was consistently one of the last 3-4 kids chosen for any given activity in the dreaded gym class. Right. That's where I belong when it comes to such things. I have a long and consciously forgotten history of poor co-ordination and performance, and I guess some things always stay the same.

That doesn't mean I can't enjoy myself, though. Thankfully, almost everyone at work are gracious winners and I have fun playing and losing as long as I get the odd point in or make a lucky save.

I know it's a dumb thing to say, but I you can't expect to do well at everything. I'm glad I have the natural inclinations I do (technology, learning... other stuff too, I hope). But I'm even gladder that I can enjoy sucking at something, too.
-Cril

Two sides of the gun

Steam Summer Sale! This has probably been the first time in a long time that I've really been able to participate, and I probably put more time into the Monster Clicker game than I should've. Goofy and utterly pointless, but I somehow found myself checking in  3-4 times over the course of a day to see how I was doing. Taking a step back as someone who works in advertising, it's certainly a clever way to get people engaged with the sale. I wonder if gamers in particular are more likely to participate in futile activities with glaringly obvious commercial overtones. Strange.

I bought 'This War of Mine' on sale after a LOT of deliberation (including reading reviews, deciding I would get it, watching playthroughs, deciding I wouldn't get it, more trailers/reviews/videos). I figured that, as someone who feels some sort of connection to to warfare beyond the typical guns and explosions, it would give me a better perspective on things. And boy, it did. It also played directly into my bizarre attraction to the tragic and depressing.

It's an incredible experience, really. I guess it falls into that 'survival' genre that's so hot right now, but it feels like anything but a popular cash grab. It has a lot of soul to it, and definitely gave me a new perspective on things. The gameplay itself is simple (scavenging, crafting, constantly maintaining well-being) but is utterly unforgiving. The combat is quick and lethal, and there are no save states. If one of your people dies to a freak accident (such as one of my characters that got locked inside a hostile building and was gunned down while trying to find an exit), that's it. Not only do you need to cope with the loss of a critically skilled team member, but the rest of the cast will become depressed at the lost. Let that depression linger too long and they'll kill themselves. Yeah. And the same goes for stealing from a hospital or elderly couple (even though you desperately needed the meds and food to make it through one more day). Your actions have consequences, and it's all tied together and delicately balanced on the head of a pin. I don't think I've had such tension (and emotional connection) from a video game in a very long time. Definitely qualifies for the 'game as art' category.

Side note: On my second playthrough, I made an easy custom scenario where there was an abundance of supplies, short/mild winter, and a lack of hostile presence. The game immediately lost 90% of what makes it incredible. Without the tight strain of rationing, you don't have to make the hard choices and live with them afterwards. The bleak struggle is what fuels the experience's beautiful, heart-wrenching impact that elevates it high above what other titles can hope to achieve.

5/5.

And now, by way of contrast, Borderlands 2. Spoilers ahead:

Do you like shooting? Do you like finding better guns to shoot with?

That's the entirety of the game. Go to X location, use guns to shoot the bad guys, unlock new weapons, go to z location, use new guns to shoot the bad guys. Get a skill point to let you shoot better. Repeat the process. Get to the end of the story? Do it all again! More bad guys! More shooting! More guns!

Needless to say, it got stale pretty fast. And although the writing didn't quite tickle my funny bone, I applaud Gearbox for making an FPS with a sense of humour. The art/visual style is pretty solid too. The shooting feels pretty tight. The main thing I liked was how utterly simple and seamless it was to have other players join your game and play together. No lobbies or hassle, and it's nice to 'drop-in' on someone that'd otherwise being playing a single player campaign.

Aside from that... It is what it is. Well made and unique, but ultimately repetitive as hell.

3/5.

In other news, I also bought the Stanley Parable and GTAV, neither of which I've cracked yet (my meager bandwidth allowance means I'll need to setup my laptop at the office over the weekend to download the latter). I was on the fence for a long time over GTA. It looks good and was well reviewed and I definitely want to play it, of course. But $70? Ouch. Alas, that's the new reality for us Canucks. If it was any other game I'd gladly wait for the price to drop after a year or so, but in this case peer pressure from a couple of sides pushed me over the edge.

I mean, hey, I'm a dude getting paid a career salary while livin' on the cheap. I guess I'm entitled to the occasional fit of consumerism.
-Cril

No music? No music.

Fury Road

Inception: A thief who steals corporate secrets through use of dream-sharing technology is given the inverse task of planting an idea into the mind of a CEO.

Edge of Tomorrow: A military officer is brought into an alien war against an extraterrestrial enemy who can reset the day and know the future.

Mad Max: Fury Road: Some bad guys chase the good guys through the desert.

Fury Road is a spectacle. It is not cerebral or intellectual by any means, and unlike Inception or Edge of Tomorrow, it does not have a fantastical concept that will challenge your view of the world and amaze you with amazing possibilities. Instead, it will show you explosions and cars tossed into a blender full of dust. It is the purest essence of the Action Flick genre.

But here's the thing: It perfected it. The premise is so simple and sounds so bland, but it was executed to a level where it becomes so much more than a mere spectacle. Yes, the action was impressive and easy to follow. The art direction was fantastic and the visuals stunning. But it was also delightfully weird.

There are many incredible little details scattered throughout, that are so off-kilter and utterly strange. Yes, we all know what a post-apocalyptic setting is like, but I don't think I've seen it be so alien before. Kamikaze warriors that spray their mouths with chrome before their sacrifice. A shoe/foot sizer for gas pedals. An accountant with a suit, metal nose covering, and exposed nipples. A collection of women being farmed for milk. And, of course, a guitar flamethrower hooked up to a massive set of speakers.

What's best is that the creators knew how to withold information, teasing you with just enough strangeness to make you wonder what led this world to be the way it is. They didn't tell us what exactly was going on with those hunched-over people on stilts in the marsh. They were just there. For a mere moment. Totally unexpected and not telling their story, but openly inviting you to imagine it for yourself.

Wonderful. I honestly think that too many movies these days try too hard to wrap everything up in a neat bow for the viewer, which kills some of the magic. Boba Fett does not need a back story. He's a badass that just shows up and silently does his thing. Not knowing his name or where he's from or why he's there adds to the allure. The less you know about a character (or setting) can make their presence that much more powerful. We don't know how Empirator Furiosa lost her arm, we don't need to know, and that lack of knowledge makes her character that much more intruiging.

A couple other thoughts:

• I love that at one point the title character goes off to commit badassery and we aren't invited to come along. He just goes and comes back. That, to me, somehow shows the confidence of the film makers and cements just how awesome this guy is. Showing the action would've just dulled things and made it less interesting.
• Traumatic flashes spliced in over chaotic action. Intense, vivid colour palettes. Slightly sped-up film. The whole thing together turns into this wonderfully surreal nightmare.
• The 'cars' (if you can call them that) were amazing.
• I don't think I've been so riveted in my seat and exhausted by the end since I saw Inception in theatres. The whole movie just kept on going, building towards and explosive finish.
• I think Tom Hardy 'evolved' Max in a pretty solid direction. In the previous films, he seemed like a bit of a loner desperado with a steel gaze. With the latest iteration, I get the feeling that Max is lonely and troubled, and his human thoughts and feelings are all he has to keep himself company. True, there wasn't really any character development over the course of Fury Road, but I get the feeling that a vivid portrait of Max was painted over the duration.
• Face masks, a prosthetic arm, a leg brace... It was fantastic how humans and machines were intertwined, especially among the three main characters. Some great mirroring going on there.
• Dat colour palette. Yellow, orange, red. Then absolutely blue. Then yellow, orange, red. Green made an appearance three times - at the beginning, middle, and end.
• Great framing and great cinematography. Sometimes it was striking, and sometimes it just added to that sense of a unrelenting nightmare.

There's more. I'm sure there's more - I get the feeling that so much love was put into the small details in this film that I might need another screening or two in order to fully appreciate it. It's dense. Dense with action, characters, intrigue, chaos, art direction, and strange little cues. For a 'bad guys chase the good guys' movie, you can't ask for much more.

-Cril

When I get to the bottom I go back to the top of the slide

And I stop and I turn and I go for a ride

And I get to the bottom and I see you again

Well do you, don't you want me to make you?

I'm coming down fast but don't let me break you

Tell me, tell me, tell me your answer

You may be a lover but you ain't no dancer

Look out!

Helter skelter

Helter skelter

Helter skelter

Beatles - Helter Skelter

Live a Little, Get Around

The opportunity came up at work to art direct an edgy, energetic, and intentionally vague promo piece, contracting the actual work out to a separate studio. Talking about it, me and my buddy got really inspired and excited, and volunteered to do the whole thing over the weekend and off the clock.

So that's what we did. And we had a fantastic time doing so, putting in about 20 hours each over the weekend. By the end of it we were exhausted, but ultimately stoked for what we had come up with.

I remember spending all my weekends in the studio at school and thinking, "Once I graduate I'm never going to do this to myself ever again. I'm tired and miserable and just want to go sleep/watch a movie/play vidya games/etc." On my way home Sunday night, though, I found myself appreciating how much fun I had creating with my friend. A notion crept up on me like a thief that, rather than removing possessions, leaves behind realizations. I just spent the weekend doing what I loved.

Over and over I've told myself that a select few people in the world ever get to work at what they love. Lo and behold, for one weekend at least, that was me. What a wild idea: I do love what I do, and I get to be paid for it. Granted, this feeling comes and goes given the project, but still. Even if it's just the odd something, I'm pretty lucky. That's a cool thing to have as part of your life once in a while.

Then, lo and behold, after showing the project to the boss and making some revisions... The client's getting cold feet on the direction they had agreed on and the project may be trimmed down substantially to make it more widely digestible. I feel like we're putting a cool project into an induced coma.

But that's the business, and that's life. I'm freakin' exhausted from missing out on a weekend and several evenings (fun fact: at some point last night I was in a hallucinatory state where my blankets were the layers of my project, and I spent a considerable amount of time rotating and changing the order they were in). But I'm still a bit buzzed at how much I enjoyed myself over those two intense days. I'm even jazzed at the mere idea that I can have such a good time at my profession.
-Cril

Live a little be a gypsy, get around
Get your feet up off the ground
Live a little, get around
Live a little be a gypsy, get around
Get your feet up off the ground
Live a little, get around

Hand across the water
Heads across the sky
Hand across the water
Heads across the sky

Paul & Linda McCartney - Uncle Albert / Admiral Halsey

Old Familiar Score

While I was in school, I had a bit of a mantra that matched my current state of being. It took the form of a Beatles' lyric (as such things tend to do) that went:

I'm so tired
I haven't slept a wink
I'm so tired
My mind is on the blink

Never mind the rest of the song. Even though I never had to do an all-nighter (which is something I'm  kinda proud of, by the way), there were many late nights. And aside from physical rest, my mantra was expressing a general state of mental exhaustion for going, going, going on school and homework and workwork without much respite.

Have you ever had one of those weeks that just drags on forever? Yeah, I'm pretty sure I've had one of those that lasted five years.

The other day, I was getting a ride to work with a friend when I'm So Tired came through his stereo. I had the sudden realization that it's been a looooooong time since those familiar opening lines had crossed my mind. It was like running across an old friend that, quite frankly, you didn't really miss all that much in the first place.

It was a liberating feeling to know that I was past that part in my life. A good reminder of how much better things are than they were.
-Cril

It seems to me I've heard that song before
It's from an old familiar score I know it well, that melody

It's funny how a theme recalls a favorite dream
Dream that brought you so close to me

I know each word because I've heard that song before
The lyrics said, "Forevermore" Forevermore's a memory

Vera Lynn - I've Heard That Song Before

30 Year-Old Foundations

I forget where I read it, but a couple months ago I saw a headline to the effect that by the time you reach 30, your personality is more/less set for the rest of your life. Most of your development has finished or plateaued, and you've mainly become the person you'll always be.

As someone staring square down the barrel of the big 3-0 shotgun, I'm slightly panicked by the thought that I'm about to commit to my many flaws. Oddly enough, over the past couple years, these have been becoming more and more evident. I've even developed a sudden sense of clarity in regards to what I've inherited from my parents.

I think that everyone, whether they care to admit it or not, is a lot like the people that raised them. And not just in terms of mannerisms or speech patterns, but some core personality traits in the case of biological parents. This in itself is probably deserving of its own post. But one of the things that I'm a bit scared of is how, like my father, I can become obsessed with something for a few months, completely beat it to death, and then move on. I can see that, within myself, I can struggle to stay committed to a task. What happened to sketching every day? Or playing the mandolin every day? Even this blog takes a lot of conscious effort to contribute to.

Will I always be like that? Unable to latch on and pull the trigger on something every day? Is that going to keep me from 'greatness', for the lack of a better word?

But what about everything else I'm not proud of, like being tight with money? What about eating just a bit too much than I should be? What about spending evening after evening doing nothing, feeling dissatisfied, and not being able to change it? What about a brain that seems to be springing leaks like a certain 2.5L Porsche engine, dripping the precious memories of oil every where I go? Can I even fix that, or do I just need to be diligent to keep my mental fluids topped up?

I think I'm afraid that on my 30th birthday I will suddenly be locked down into a perpetual state of stagnation. That it'll be impossible to make progress in the most personal sense. I know that life is painted using more shades of grey than something so binary as that. But even then, guttural fears aside, I think I reject the notion that progress ends at three decades of existence. I think, yes, by that age (or there abouts), a foundation has been laid and a certain perception of the world has been established.

In fact, I'm pretty sure it's happening. Over the last few years I can feel that I've been maturing (or, rather, "adulting"), leaving some elements of youth behind. Littering upsets me, I can't stand the smack-talk when playing online, and just this last month I even paid attention to a local sports team's results in the league finals. Truth be told, it scares me more than a little to let go of my 'youngerness', partially because I'm not sure I ever did well at being a kid and I feel like a lot of that stuff passed me by while I was worrying about whether or not I'd ever be able to afford a car at the tender age of 7 (true story. Spoiler alert: I grew up and was indeed able to afford a car).

I'm rambling. Help, I think I might be going straight onto old age.

In the end, my point is that I'll either conquer my own personal demons or I won't. I hope I can find and hold onto some sense of youthful wonder. I hope I can keep growing. Most of all, I hope I can find some sort of personal acceptance for whatever I am or become. No matter my age, though, that seems like it'll always be a reoccurring theme.
-Cril

As the dawn began to break
I had to surrender
The universe will have its way
Too powerful to master
Oh, oh, oh, oh

The Flaming Lips - In The Morning Of The Magicians

At the Intersection of Alberta and Wall St

Last week Alberta elected an NDP government, breaking a 44-year dominance by the Progressive Conservative Party. For just a moment as I watched the diehard conservatives of the Province freak right out, I thought that maybe there's hope after all. If such a political dynasty can fall (and so thoroughly at that), perhaps the people still have some significant influence on their country's fate. I'm not a political person, but I couldn't help hoping that maybe things can change for the better.

Then I stumbled on a copy of 'Inside Job' on my media hard drive, watched it on a whim, and have been undeniably depressed since. We are so, so screwed. And yes, I know I might now have the 'right' to make that statement considering I'm commenting on US politics as a Canadian. But our two countries are close, and what happens just south of the border seems to have repercussions everywhere else. While the economic influence is certainly worrying, the cultural influence is even worse. Power attracts money attracts power attracts money, and there's nothing your average Joe without a handful of lobbyists can do about it. Yeah, I've read lots of praise for the Canadian banking system and how it shielded us from even worse circumstances... But how long before that culture of capitalistic corruption seeps into our political and financial systems?

It's really, really scary to know that it's just a matter of time before our next financial collapse. And with the way things are headed, it'll be worse than the last. Here I am, thinking about how best to invest my money and pondering the merits of property ownership... When even the safest decision can be utterly undermined by a few well-off individuals at the top of the food chain trying to make another buck. It's damn scary. And how do you even prepare for the next financial shenanigans?

We're screwed. I know this is all pretty much a knee-jerk reaction to a documentary with a pretty bias tone, but it seems to resonate with my particular flavour of cynicism. Rich get richer, and politicians get richer and rig the system to keep it that way.

This is why I tend not to vote. I just feel like all the candidates that aren't scumbags already will become so once they get a bit of influence. Maybe I should just focus on what happens on my side of the border and hope, for all our sakes, that our new political party will do some good.
-Cril

Money, get back
I'm all right, Jack, keep your hands off of my stack.
Money, it's a hit
Don't give me that do goody good bullshit
I'm in the hi-fidelity first class traveling set
And I think I need a Lear jet

Money, it's a crime
Share it fairly but don't take a slice of my pie
Money, so they say
Is the root of all evil today
But if you ask for a rise it's no surprise that they're giving none away

Pink Floyd - Money

Just Numbers

The last time I took an IQ test, I was somewhere in the 11th or 12th grade. As being a teenager and answering inane online surveys go hand in hand, it was an online test (from who knows where) and I mainly did it out of curiosity. I ended up scoring 90, which is on the lower end of average intellegence. 

The other night, as being a guy with nothing to do and aimlessly browsing Reddit seem to go hand in hand, I stumbled across a link that claimed to be "An online IQ test that isn't fake bullshit". I started off clicking through to see what such an IQ test would look like, and after finishing the first 4-5 questions I decided to keep going. This despite it being 12:30AM and the test having a 40min timer. There were about three or four questions I didn't manage to figure out in time, but I ended up scoring 112, which is on the lower end of high intelligence. 

This gave me two realizations: I never recognized just how much that low score I got as a teenager damaged and haunted me, and IQ tests (no matter how much "fake bullshit" they may or may not have) are all equally useless.

Self-confidence has never been a resource I've had in large quantities, and especially in those formative years as a young adult, that 90 IQ was a bit of a dent in the brain. It's like that older brother that would give you a firm punch in the shoulder that says, "Remember your place and don't get full of yourself." It makes you a bit twitchy after a while. 

This became especially true when I was working on my Bachelor's, surrounded by classmates that I was seeing every day and essentially competing against. My mentality quickly became "Well, I'm not smart enough and I don't have the raw talent... So I'll just have to hustle and work hard to make up the distance." That's kinda become my mantra over the years, and I think it's served me well. Even then it's a little bit scary, because anyone can learn to work longer, but you can't increase your intelligence or core inclination. I'm occupying a spot that anyone with the drive can muscle in on and unseat me. 

My have a really intelligent family, and I think there was always this subconscious pressure to be smart too. And I always felt like I landed a bit short. So when I got that 112... To be honest, it was like a sigh of relief. Like I could say, "Whew, yeah, I guess I can be smart too, I guess." Like maybe in every other conversation I have I don't need to tell myself "Listen to them, they're probably right. You know you're not that smart." Kinda gets degrading after a while.

But all that being said... IQ tests are garbage. I don't think you can judge all humans based on a single metric like that. You can't seriously tell me that Picasso would've scored just as well on an IQ test as Einstein, and that therefore the prior is clearly inferior and has not accomplished as much. It's like comparing apples and freakin' waterfalls. Both have had their own impact on society and culture, and one didn't have any less potential than the other. 

One of the comments from the Reddit post states that "IQ tests are designed to test the fundamental building block of human intelligence, pattern recognition / basic logic." And you know what, maybe that's true, but... Maybe human intelligence simply doesn't matter as much, especially depending on how "success" or "productive member of society" can be defined. Hell, just how limiting can a lower IQ be if George Bush can become El Presidante? 

Even looking at the test I did last night, I recognize it as a very, very visual test. Being a designer, that's my language and the channel that I probably learn through best. But what about people who are more verbal? Tactile? Kinetic? Even if an IQ test was some definitive golden measurement, there's no way that all humans can be equally evaluated via one way of administrating the test itself.

So, yes, maybe I have an IQ of 112, but I don't think that should really change anything. I'm still gonna hustle and I'm still gonna work hard.

-Cril

Sometimes late

When things are real

And the people share the gift of gab

Between themselves

Some are quick

To take the bait

And the catch the perfect prize

That waits among the shells 

But Oz never did give nothing to the Tin Man

That he didn't, didn't already have

And Cause never was the reason for the evening

Or the tropic of Sir Galahad

Jericho Ronsales - Tin Man

Don't You

Hey you.

Yes, you.

Are you reading this?

More to the point, why are you reading this?

You know who you are.

You know you shouldn't be here, you know you shouldn't have called. I want to be left alone, and I made that clear. Leave it be. Move on with your life. I want to move on with mine. Call off this stupid appointment on Thursday. It isn't going to do either of us any good.

I don't want to talk to you, you don't need to talk to me. It's been, what, two and a half years since we last actually had an (awkward) conversation that lasted more than two sentences? I'm tired of you telling me you aren't interested. I'm tired of having to tell you I'm not interested, and I'm tired of you getting really upset as a result.

Let. It. Die. Move on. You have better things and people in your life that deserve attention than some guy that you used to know a few years ago that isn't (and has never been) interested in what you want.
-Cril

You're so vain, you probably think this song is about you
You're so vain, I'll bet you think this song is about you
Don't you? Don't You?

Carly Simon - You're So Vain

Do it already

Words.

Words, words. Words.

Look at me, I'm typing. It's kinda scary that literally just writing down some words was what I need to do to open the door enough to keep going. Strange, that.

I feel like I'm losing momentum. I'm being hypnotized by the steady rhythm of full time work, and sedated by the need to "just relax for a bit" after a day in the office. I can't seriously be so tired that all I can do after a measly 8-9hours at work I need to spend the rest of the evening shooting pixels with other pixels.

My company went through some pretty major restructuring a couple weeks ago, and more than a couple of good people were let go. In the fallout, many of us have had to step up to keep the wheels on the bus. I think I worked about 60hrs that week, and by the end of it I could tell that I was pretty tired and irritable. Which makes sense until I consider that for five straight years at school, working 60-80hrs a week was the norm. And true, what I have now is a much healthier balance, but I can't help but chuckle at how "soft" I'm getting.

Still, though, when I was in those throws of all-consuming academia, I had some sort of clarity about what I wish I could spend time on. I didn't find myself wanting to sit down and game for a few hours every night so much as wanting to learn the mandolin, learn to cook, learn to maintain a car. And while I'm doing those things to some degree, they're still very much taking a back seat to mind-numbing entertainment. It's kind of a let down.



I met with a friend from ACAD last Friday, and caught up after not really talking for 2 years. He mentioned how he's pretty devoted to getting out of work right at 5. He gets there on time, does everything he needs to accomplish, and goes home once he's put in his 8 hours. It's gotten to the point where his coworkers know not to even ask him to stay, because he pushes back really hard.

I can appreciate his devotion to maintaining his ideal life balance. Being a bit of a people-pleaser, I'm not sure if that solution is for me, though. I don't mind chipping in if it'll make a difference, and an extra hour here or there isn't the end of the world. But it's cool to see someone that knows where to draw the line between work and home life.

Anyways, my point is this: I gotta renew my focus on extra-curricular activities. At the beginning of the year, I made the goal to get better at playing the mandolin than I am at the ukulele. Recently I've barely been practicing at all, and the though occurred to me, "June isn't too far away. That's halfway through the year, it'll be a good time to step up my game." But that's the wrong approach, isn't it? There's absolutely no reason I shouldn't step up my game now. More practicing. More sketching. More cooking, more car stuff, more writing.

If I don't do it, ain't nobody else gonna do it for me.
-Cril

I am ready, as ready's anybody can be
I am ready, ready's anybody can be
I am ready for you, I hope you ready for me

I got a axe-handled pistol on my graveyard frame,
That shoot tombstone bullets, wearin' balls and chain,
I'm drinkin TNT, I'm smokin' dynamite,
I hope some screwball start a fight

Muddy Waters - I'm Ready