the reluctant blogger.

busy. buzzing. business.

Business? Well, I supose that’s what you can call it. red tape, planning, invoices, emails, phone calls, red tape, research, and red tape. oh and failed attempts. or rather - half attempts. oh my half-attempts! and i never understood why he said i was afraid of commitment - until now! these sorts of things are about so many different things.

It seems that my pledge to resist filling up my empty days with busy-ness has back-fired horribly. or maybe business has replaced busy-ness. either way, things are somewhat hectic.

let’s see how i hold up these next few days. 5 hours spent in transit today didn’t treat me too well. half attempts to read and ignore the curse of bus and train motion sickness almost succeeded. how? apparently it’s rather difficult to put down a steig larson book. and forget that you’re cold and hungry and wasting away somwehere and nowhere between here and there, desperately needing to use the loo.

so what am I going to do about all of this? this business and busy-ness and life spent in transit? it appears i must replace tickets and passes for a license and some keys. yes, you read that correctly.

I’m going to learn how to drive.

YES.

Life is too complicated not to contradict itself. If we all just sat around identifying the hypocrisy in everyone and everything, we’d just be one big unproductive army of Holden Caulfield’s fucking around New York City with nothing to do and no one to love.

cherry pick m’dear!

Apparently it’s not good to type in the same place that you sleep. Work and relaxation don’t get along with each other too well. Or so I’m told. Dedicate one place to sleep, and another place all together to work and all will be well once the sun goes down. Apparently.

Well, I’m throwing all of that sourceless wisdom out the window and just damn well doing what I know can’t be good for me because I can, and because I need something to blame my impending sleeplessness on other than my own stupidity. There, I admitted it. Because none of us like to admit that we’re to blame - for everything - so here’s my attempt at being the bigger person and admitting to my mistakes. And just to be clear: when I say everything, I mean everything. Because it’s all you baby. I know that much is for certain. It’s just putting all of this theory stuff into practice which seems to be getting me.

I really don’t like the place that I’m in right now. Why? Because if I were my own best friend (which I often qualify myself as) I would be worried about me. Why? Because I have no idea where I’m going, my goals aren’t measurable and are therefore somewhat unattainable (to some degree) and I’ve stopped using big words – that in itself is mildly terrifying. When you start to become less articulate, you know that something’s wrong. It’s not like I’ve become one of those bumbling idiots (I’m no Mr. Collins) but my words seem to have been swallowed up somewhere between my voicebox and the outside audible world, and always manage to forget to announce their existence to my memory before vanishing. You know what I mean? Am I sleep deprived? Not entirely. Does this have any correlation to the fact that I never seem to be able to find my keys and the fact that I forgot to write down a shift that I had at work today (which I missed) and the fact that I was more torn up by it than I should have been? Most definitely. Why the major correlation? Because I’m just not up and running at full capacity. Why? because I have absolutely nothing constant in my life.

Does this all seem rather contradictory to last night’s post? Most definitely. But here’s the thing: life is too complicated not to contradict itself. And if we all just sat around and recognized the hypocrisy in everyone and everything, we’d be one big army of Holden Caulfield’s fucking around New York City.

So back to the main point: I had a crappy day. I’m 100% responsible for it. Because I made every single decision that was made today. And I’m sitting here on my bed typing away on my shitty lap top which enjoys freezing and I’m trying to redeem my day. Why? Because there’s power in details and sometimes ensuring that you’re happy means tying all of those frayed strings together at the end of the day (even though your sensibilities tell you that those ends shouldn’t meet up), and believing in phony clichéd lines like “everything happens for a reason”: which really boils down to picking and choosing what you want to feel and how you want to remember it. Oh the power of the selective memory!

So I’ve chosen to remember the following facts about today:

1. it was a beautiful day.

2. I had a lovely conversation with a stranger.

3. A woman gave me her pen to keep when I asked to borrow it for a moment.

4. I met up with an acquaintance after I had a minor break down, and it’s safe to say that we’re now friends.

5. I got some fantastic photographs for a project I’m pursuing.

6. I’m glad I never drank coffee today.

7. I’m excited about the future and the making of plans.

8. I believe I’ve redeemed my day in 8 easy moments.

Because being happy is as simple as disregarding the facts that:

 1. I have shin splints, blisters on my toes and possible sprained ankle.

2. I missed a shift, travelled to work at lightning speed (hence the shin splints, blisters, and ankle issue) upon a phone call from my not too pleased manager, which halted another project I was in the middle of (as I was not home) , arrived late to work only to be sent home due to a lack of uniform (which I did not have on me).

3. oh, and none of my managers are all too pleased with me either. So much for being reliable.

4. I’ve been accepted into 2 of the 3 universities I applied to and I’VE REALIZED THAT I DONT WANT TO ATTEND ANY OF THEM..and still have no idea what I’m going to do with my life.

5. oh, and I fucked up with the work thing.

But…as I begin to liken to the idea of going to sleep, something magical is happening…I’m mildly content. Why? Because I just redeemed my day in a few short minutes of aimless typing!

Fuck yeah!

Because at the end of the day, those poor decisions that I made are simply poor decisions. I am not defined by the few simple mistakes of yesterday but rather by all of the marvellous decisions and that I’ve ever made and am ever planning on making: like redeeming my day in picking and choosing the when and the where and the how and the what I’m choosing to remember and savour.

Because our power to be happy lies in our ability to pick and choose what we feel, and when we want to feel it. Yes, that is a choice. And all we have to do is make it.

lost and found and changing.

I went out for dinner with a good friend from high school today. Well actually, we went out for breakfast for dinner. I’ve really taken to doing things slightly backwards as of late because the repetition of the ordinary can be so bizarre sometimes. Talking with with my friend really opened my eyes to how quickly her life is changing and moving forwards and how much my life is just well, not. And then thoughts of what exactly I’m doing with my life began to swarm my head like mosquitoes to the porch light in the cool humidity of a summer evening. And I was somewhat overwhelmed and yet oddly relaxed by the threat of an onslaught of purpose-questioning anxiety.

It seems that I’ve gained some self-certainty over these past few months. Roots have dug into the earth and begun to take hold. I’m standing still. Everyone is moving forward. Everything is changing. But then again, so am I. I’m changing. Yes I decided to take a year off and yes everyone else seems to be moving forwards while I appear to have taken a few steps backwards but here’s the thing; I decided to stand still, to step back and re-evaluate before biting off more than I can chew. Last year at this time, I could smell my mid-life crisis down the road and heck; I haven’t even reached quarter life.

 I didn’t have any direction and we all need some direction. Without direction we lose purpose, without a sense of purpose we lose our drive and motivation, and without motivation we lose the will to challenge ourselves and take risks and accomplish things. Yet with enough outside pressure, we can accomplish feats without drive and waning motivation, (take my high school diploma for example), but at the end of the day our accomplishments look a lot more like empty titles and cheap pieces of paper, and a lot less like the fulfillment needed to guide our heads safely to our pillows at night. In other words, we lose our sense of all of that stuff that gives us substance.

 Of course I love wandering and searching and being lost I mean, why else would I be on a gap-year without so much as one person to give me useful advice? But even when we’re not entirely sure about the where and when and how, we still have direction – towards the goal of being found.

A goal I think I avoided admitting to setting at the beginning of this year of limbo. Because well, it’s a daunting goal to face. A somewhat terrifying and cliched opening to a cheesy “how I found myself in [insert wordly travel destination here]. ” But that doesn’t mean it isn’t serious.

Talk about one of the biggest challenges a person can face, because the whereabouts of the object of our searching is somewhat of a mystery. Because where is found exactly? And the thing is; once you find it, you’ll never be entirely sure if you’ve really got a hold of it. Because you’re the only person who will ever know. No one else can confirm it. And who are we really when we have no one to confirm the fact that we’re growing and changing and becoming more and more like ourselves every day?

Lost and found and changing. because everything changes. and the only way to confirm the fact that we know where we’re going is to accept the fact that we have absolutely no idea where the fuck we’re going. Because nothing is constant.

forgive me for not being perfect, i’m only human.

that moment of sheer fear when the act of doing something to satisfy your own creativity somehow becomes wound up in other people’s expectations of you, sculpts intself into the characteristics by which others percieve you and then becomes definitive of how you percieve yourself.

in other words: borderline failure.

and then you begin to fear the fear of not being able to recognize yourself as a free thinking and flawed individual but rather a machine working to reach the unattainable: perfection.

and then to create is no longer to create but to imitate that which cannot be immitated.

forgive me for not being perfect, i’m only human.

(on congested creativity and the pressure to create an entire body of art work before next friday when i can’t even rememebr to paint. Oh, because i need a portfolio to get into university)

dayfiveandsixandsevenandallthedaysafterwards.

After a little while, not watching television is just like picking up an apple instead of a doughnut. It’s definitely not as sweet but then it’s not tinged with regret either. It’s a different kind of feel good. no quick fixes here. because sometimes all you need to relax and unwind is something real to sink your teeth into. like a good book. or a project with tangible results. or a meaty conversation.

Did you know that on day 7 I actually found out what my dad does. Like actually, no joke. I officially know what his profession is now. He’s no longer employed as, “well, he puts on a suit everyday and sits in an office.”

Wow, right? I’m finally discovering some of those things I was always supposed to know.

And on day 6 I visited my great Aunt and she showed me her brand new ipad. “Did you know there’s this fantatsic thing on there that allows you to look up all sorts of things!” she exclaimed excitedly, “I even listened to old music with videos and everything. It was on this thing now, what was it called?” She took a moment to re-group and you could almost hear everything clicking into place. “Yess,” she said breathlessly, “it was the internet!”

It was exactly the sort of thing where smiling is so not voluntary. I could even feel my eyes crinkling at the sides as her face lit up.

And, on day 5 I read a book as if there wasn’t a metal box in my family room awaiting the end of my fast.

So what happened when it all ended? When the fast was finally broken? Well, I didn’t flip channels and burn out in front of commercials. I’m pretty sure my flipping days are over. In fact, I feel more in control than I have since the beginning of my gap year considering that I’ve just realized that those vampires have entered and left my television set as I’ve sat here typing — and I didn’t even set up the PVR to tape it!

I’m suddenly no longer dependant on it any more. on them. on all of it. my television set. everything that was designed to entertain me was really emptying me. of all my motivation. to do things. to cape diem without regret. even if the alternative is just visiting my great aunt.

So here’s to my most successful experiment yet. one of the best damn things I’ve ever done. my only regret is not having done it sooner.

Gap year well spent.

day 3 and 4

relax \ri-‘laks\

1. to make less severe or stringent

2. to relieve from nervous tension

3. to cast off social restraint, nervous tension, or anxiety

4. to seek rest or recreation

5. to escape the emotional and psychological constipation of couch-potatoism

I am more relaxed yet more busy. Life has become more hectic but less complicated. Clear lines of action are taken. Emotional ties to my living room couch are lessened. Bodies fall asleep as heads hit pillows.

Amazing, right?

I was even too busy to remember I was on a television fast yesterday. I went straight from work to a very fulfilling volunteer session, ate dinner at 10pm, visited my grandmother shortly afterwards. Had an intense few moments where, “are you afraid of dying?” dominated the silent kitchen where stories of past instances of life leaving friends and family in my grandmother’s presence filled the room like fog from melting snow on a spring day in January, and fell asleep so fast and deeply a few minutes after midnight that I slept through my alarm this morning and was almost late for work.

And why was that?

I felt so full and satisfied. It was like the dark chocolate I consume as my daily dose of fulfillment had suddenly morphed into a real life breathing, blinking, heart-beating individual. Becasue I had been to a new place, explored new territory, had an adventure in an old place with new eyes.

Today I dealt with a number of shitty customers at work. Defeat pointed me in the direction of Friends re-runs. Instead, I had three cups of tea, read the newspaper and leaned back in my stiff kitchen chair and felt every single muscle in my body relax. one. by. one. The stress of “minimum pay job emptiness” would otherswise be over-complicated by the over-stimulation of the distraction of Joey and Pheobe but instead it was eased with the escape and brain food that only articles on obscure travel destinations, and over-opinionated opinion columns can offer.

tonight my mind and body will stop the moment my head hits the pillow.

and that’s what an almost-week of no television can do.

magic.

day one.

 I did not watch television. I will not watch television. I did not watch television.  I will not watch televsion.

My level of creativity is not defined by the number of decorating shows WNetwork decides to gift me on a Wednesday afternoon.

My afternoon tea-time should not be spent with a controller in my hand.

Flipping for the sake of flipping is not an option. it should have never been an option.

Funny though, still managed to make zero art.

Although, I fared better than I thought. Maybe the part where I wasn’t home for the majority of the day had something to do wtih that.

However, tomorrow we face the worst day of them all. Thursday. As in - Grey’s Anatomy, Vampire Diaries Thursday. As in - my monday morning motivation to not press the snooze button more than three times. As in, the only way I got thorugh Wednesday for the last two years.

Challenge Accepted.

bring. it. on. 

first attempt at a sketch.

Teaching myself to draw again is so unlike riding a bike. They’re so many more things to take into account. Balance is minor and major, and more than one of a few things to consider. Not to mention the fact that the muscles in my hand and wrist and arm are not unlike those running muscles that enjoy turning to mush after a long winter of no jogging.

Seriously, forget passion. It’s all about discipline - of sitting there and just doing something because you have to. I need some have to. Some PRESSURE. Something to justify an art every day regime. Which needs to start NOW. Because when you revert to drawing your underwear, something’s gotta give.

I’m thinking television. My dearest most unproductive and influential friend. How does a one week T.V fast sound? Shall I start tomorrow?

 There. It’s decided.

Television fast commencing Wednesday January 25, 2012. Art making is to replace daily brain cell mass suicide.

YUM.