I was in a slew of emotions, trying to contain rather than let them out. Once they come out, they won't stop. I don't know if it's the weather to blame but it does a number on the water works.
I decided to not write during that period because let's face it: we've heard it all before. Yes, I'm not the best girl in Montreal (right now), yes, I'm still angry about Jerkface the "open relationship" guy who now has killed relationships for me...
...for now.
Previously it was the douchebag who took my money and said that I wasn't suited to be his wife or bear his kids. He's seeking work in the diplomatic area and so far dodging the ex and getting some drunk sibling to call me scum, hmm, does that sound diplomatic to anyone?
A Michelle Obama he seeks who is more background than stand out.However, Michelle Obama would never go for a douchebag.
Prior to that there was the yuppie that would make me cry every Friday. The type who talks of nothing but about his surround sound speakers, would exfoliate more than I do and thinks he's better than everyone (creatively). I don't see you writing scripts and putting on shows, you do however bankroll them then sleep with someone in the cast.
And so forth and so forth...
This all triggered after watching my friend's play about seeking for the right mate, to commit to someone he would put on a pedestal and dubbed "the best girl in Montreal". I met him when in the play, he ran out of the country for these girls. A couple friends filled me in on the "actual" story behind what really happened prior to the play.
Then I started to go through my track record, hence the water works. Also at the same time, my beloved Montreal Canadiens were having the week that they wish to forget, not letting Kovalev play and a link to mobsters by the kiddies of squad. We went back in time in a lifestyle common to the Mob, live fast, drink hard, women you have for one night only.
Hockey and relationships do go hand and hand, having a good relationship is like going to the Stanley Cup final: take full advantage because it's never going to happen again.
If I were to compare my dating record, I would have the hardest time making the playoffs. It would be a miracle to make it far, seriously, I need to reevaluate the lineup cause it's the laughing stock of the league.
In Montreal, it's easy to find the best girl because let's face it, there are a lot of amazing girls out there. For us, the reversal of fortune is nothing but a game of Russian Roulette. Too many chances, fewer and fewer guys out there. I feel like I'm not the best because there are more girls better than me then it becomes harder to compete. Or lack of competition as most guys will like anything, picky I know they're not. As long as they can make the playoffs (in whatever capacity) it's fine by them.
I think guys are even more insecure about being alone. It's just not as well played.
True fact: the douchebag started going out with a generic blond after he dumped me, 2 weeks later. When jerkface broke off with his girl, he was with his blond replacement a week later.
Then again, they were going on while still with the girlfriend, me as the extra.
BTW, I hate blonds. Unless you're Alex Kovalev.
I downplay in the game because since there is a lack, you really can't be picky. I got lucky with the douche, I loved his curiosity and the ability to make me feel like a better person. We were good, except the part where he couldn't keep a job and got clingy during my final year of University. I couldn't cope, snapped at him, then he thought, well this isn't going to work out.
Like I wasn't already stressed out enough as it is.
I tried seeing it from a Bob Gainey approach, he does the hardest job on earth making sure what is best for this squad and this happens, the kiddies drink hard with strippers, Carey Price is as useful as a plant. I know that the plant would stop the puck more. Expectations were high at first but now it's "let's just make the playoffs."
The same way I see guys. Why should I have expectations when clearly I will be disappointed no matter what. I will lose to blonds, when I do get mad then they think it's the end of the relationship. I no longer have the pressure of being the best when in theory there will be times when I will be at my worst.
Which happened to Kovalev then the whole city wants him out, then he does that magic thing he does and then we love him again.
STOP IT STOP IT STOP IT.
What I learned out of relationships and hockey is that the expectations are high for someone who has to do all the work while the other lounges around and makes it hard. It's hard for me because like I said: it's rare to go to the Stanley Cup final. I'm reaching the age where it gets even harder, selection is so scarce. For guys they can find whoever is "best" until it doesn't mesh. Stop seeking the best and seek what is real, sometimes there will be confidence in one night, a collapse in the next. I think women are more understanding about that (and this is why most of us date douchebags and jerkfaces). But yes, I want to make the playoffs but I will have to do this with an actual team that works as a team, no superstars, no spotlight. Nada expectations.
Who would want the ideal when the real has more surprises. Maybe this could be the year or maybe, who knows. I am doing my best here, right?
Wednesday, February 25, 2009
Sunday, February 8, 2009
Happy Hour?
Here I am writing my blog out of all places: the bar next to my work. It is in a way my office as I am here for hockey games, 5 a 7 and yes, even the occasional rendez vous with someone that fancies me (more recent, the jerkface from the open relationship). Yes, I’m still on this as he’s in my doghouse now, hiding like a coward as if he does show his face in my scene then it would be true: that he is a total jerkface, a liar and the most insecure person on earth. Wanting the attention as if he were a child tugging at his mother’s skirt, wanting her to validate his achievement (or simply his presence).
So why should I even give him the time of day when all he does is waste my time?
Other than that, it’s a loud night, the Habs play the Leafs, which means the bar, will be packed. Louder than normal when it’s hockey night, nearly impossible to hear one’s self amidst the patrons filled with chicken wings and beer. However the voice in my head these days outprojects the table of six next to me.
The bar of late, has been a place for me to think, to contemplate what’s been on my mind in the last while. I have realized this week the significance of a photo project that I’ve been doing for years. That yes, every two years I do become a different person and not the same as the two years previous. I compared myself from two years ago and realized:
I don’t like this person.
Where’s the self determined being that plays the underdog card and comes out on top with nothing to lose? The quirky, crazy, wanting to explore being that was (and can still be me).
She’s in this bar somewhere and I got to find her or else what was the whole point to what I’m doing. I don’t like wasting so I don’t want to be considered a wasted person.
The scenario as follows: the fear in me has been installed due to the consequences that have occurred: bad taste in guys, bad judgment in the jerkface, the sh**ty wrist that has limited me, the economic crisis and post university. All of these have added to this:
I’ve lost photo jobs to someone who barely knows the rules of photo yet has all the time in the world to shoot (I don’t, have a job), there are more politics in the paper I work at and would want to freelance more but the opportunities you can do at a student paper sure beats covering a bake sale. I’m questioning on whether or not I am a good photographer, or even a good person. I yell at one person…
I’m at a low point where: 29, lives at home, minimum wage, pushed around, no confidence at all. However, I do admit that since I realized this, maybe I can turn this around completely. I think the open relationship/sh**ty wrists are what’s preventing me, who wants to hire someone who may be prone to injury and bad judgment. People do talk.
I think jerkface did and I got blackballed.
I can’t seem to forgive myself for being the other woman. I think all the time I’ve done this awful thing and shouldn’t deserve anything. The fact that I have bad judgment, think about it, if you actually have me in a real life situation, life or death type of deal, would you really want to have your faith determined by the girl who decided to be in the open relationship with the same guy twice and not come out with something?
Really?!?
I remember being a lot smarter about this two years ago.
Man, no wonder why everyone stays in University, we’re a bunch of useless stupid people with no purpose to serve without the shelter of the ivory tower. I’ve become a total douchebag, the being I’ve been trying not to be however it crept up behind me as I was becoming vulnerable to the real world adjustment. You know the theory of the little fish/big pond and big fish/little pond. As I figured out how to become a big fish, the ponds would be easy to adapt and become smaller, I have no other form of level to go up to now, actually, it’s a Hell of a lot bigger than I can handle. I am now in the ocean and if I don’t adapt, I’m going keep on drowning.
I think it would be better if I were to drown my sorrows in the beer right next to me but I won’t, the fact that I’m writing my blog in a bar on hockey night has me thinking that this could actually be a good sign. I am writing again, right?
The whole notion of what could happen now then where I was two years ago is quite different, the rules and attitude is supposed to exceed intelligence however my scenarios are so childish and immature the only thing I can think of is:
At least you know, do something about it.
I know that’s something I would have never done two years ago.
So why should I even give him the time of day when all he does is waste my time?
Other than that, it’s a loud night, the Habs play the Leafs, which means the bar, will be packed. Louder than normal when it’s hockey night, nearly impossible to hear one’s self amidst the patrons filled with chicken wings and beer. However the voice in my head these days outprojects the table of six next to me.
The bar of late, has been a place for me to think, to contemplate what’s been on my mind in the last while. I have realized this week the significance of a photo project that I’ve been doing for years. That yes, every two years I do become a different person and not the same as the two years previous. I compared myself from two years ago and realized:
I don’t like this person.
Where’s the self determined being that plays the underdog card and comes out on top with nothing to lose? The quirky, crazy, wanting to explore being that was (and can still be me).
She’s in this bar somewhere and I got to find her or else what was the whole point to what I’m doing. I don’t like wasting so I don’t want to be considered a wasted person.
The scenario as follows: the fear in me has been installed due to the consequences that have occurred: bad taste in guys, bad judgment in the jerkface, the sh**ty wrist that has limited me, the economic crisis and post university. All of these have added to this:
I’ve lost photo jobs to someone who barely knows the rules of photo yet has all the time in the world to shoot (I don’t, have a job), there are more politics in the paper I work at and would want to freelance more but the opportunities you can do at a student paper sure beats covering a bake sale. I’m questioning on whether or not I am a good photographer, or even a good person. I yell at one person…
I’m at a low point where: 29, lives at home, minimum wage, pushed around, no confidence at all. However, I do admit that since I realized this, maybe I can turn this around completely. I think the open relationship/sh**ty wrists are what’s preventing me, who wants to hire someone who may be prone to injury and bad judgment. People do talk.
I think jerkface did and I got blackballed.
I can’t seem to forgive myself for being the other woman. I think all the time I’ve done this awful thing and shouldn’t deserve anything. The fact that I have bad judgment, think about it, if you actually have me in a real life situation, life or death type of deal, would you really want to have your faith determined by the girl who decided to be in the open relationship with the same guy twice and not come out with something?
Really?!?
I remember being a lot smarter about this two years ago.
Man, no wonder why everyone stays in University, we’re a bunch of useless stupid people with no purpose to serve without the shelter of the ivory tower. I’ve become a total douchebag, the being I’ve been trying not to be however it crept up behind me as I was becoming vulnerable to the real world adjustment. You know the theory of the little fish/big pond and big fish/little pond. As I figured out how to become a big fish, the ponds would be easy to adapt and become smaller, I have no other form of level to go up to now, actually, it’s a Hell of a lot bigger than I can handle. I am now in the ocean and if I don’t adapt, I’m going keep on drowning.
I think it would be better if I were to drown my sorrows in the beer right next to me but I won’t, the fact that I’m writing my blog in a bar on hockey night has me thinking that this could actually be a good sign. I am writing again, right?
The whole notion of what could happen now then where I was two years ago is quite different, the rules and attitude is supposed to exceed intelligence however my scenarios are so childish and immature the only thing I can think of is:
At least you know, do something about it.
I know that’s something I would have never done two years ago.
Saturday, January 31, 2009
Really contemplating....
I've been looking at myself really hard and asking myself: really?!?
Nothing right now is making me happy, everything (in my mind) feels wrong. My voice, is not coming out. My soul has nothing to believe in. Trying to find the right words, the right speech to make things out, instead anger and frustation comes out and scares away people.
In one case, thinking that I am crazy and need to be on medication.
Everyone is medicated, numbing themselves in believing that they can be content rather than face the fact: things are hard, you're going to have to deal with it. No ammout of booze, lust or even perscription will make this go away.
I'm aware of my situation, giving me a pill will make me deal with my emotions. However, the problem will still be unresolved. I can't live with that. I'm the type of person looking for answers, in the meantime I'm trapped in situations that (in theory can be resolved) however...
I'm afraid that either I'm going to fall flat on my face or (the greater fear)
that I might actually succeed.
It's like playing the lottery, we believe in the idea that it could happen and we keep trying, but what if...
I've been hearing the what if over and over, playing my numbers and knowing that it will never happen. Wasting my four dollars per week on a supposive solution, yeah right.
Yeah right that I can actually make it as a photographer and get out of my coffee shop job and move out of my folk's apt and get on with my life.
My doubts have trapped me into the situation above, the holder of a Bachelor of Arts who has been published and paid, overqualified in the art of latte making. My parents are old, that scares me thinking that if I win my lottery, it'll be too late for them to enjoy.
So far the words are still the same, still no answers.
I guess I can break it down this way:
-I hate my minimum wage job because I think I'm better than it, yet I'm still there dealing with stupid and stupid only.
-I work at a student paper with more politics (and more exciting) than what is happening in Ottawa (yet I think we have a better chance at a better fiscal solution).
-I don't trust my friends who can't be there for me as I am there for them, listening to them word for word (as I think they're afraid that they won't be heard either). The dominating type who are even more alone if they don't have someone in the room, the type to take charge but no one wants to march with them.
-My family...I don't talk about them in this however, they are core to me but I don't know if they're good for me (right now).
There are situations that have solutions however where to start? And is there room for me, my voice, my eyes and my heart in this?
I've been looking at this long and hard, asking what a 29 year old is doing stuck in this vicious cycle. I can't keep doing this. Don't you think it's about time that there is a solution...
or do I keep playing lottery tickets.
Nothing right now is making me happy, everything (in my mind) feels wrong. My voice, is not coming out. My soul has nothing to believe in. Trying to find the right words, the right speech to make things out, instead anger and frustation comes out and scares away people.
In one case, thinking that I am crazy and need to be on medication.
Everyone is medicated, numbing themselves in believing that they can be content rather than face the fact: things are hard, you're going to have to deal with it. No ammout of booze, lust or even perscription will make this go away.
I'm aware of my situation, giving me a pill will make me deal with my emotions. However, the problem will still be unresolved. I can't live with that. I'm the type of person looking for answers, in the meantime I'm trapped in situations that (in theory can be resolved) however...
I'm afraid that either I'm going to fall flat on my face or (the greater fear)
that I might actually succeed.
It's like playing the lottery, we believe in the idea that it could happen and we keep trying, but what if...
I've been hearing the what if over and over, playing my numbers and knowing that it will never happen. Wasting my four dollars per week on a supposive solution, yeah right.
Yeah right that I can actually make it as a photographer and get out of my coffee shop job and move out of my folk's apt and get on with my life.
My doubts have trapped me into the situation above, the holder of a Bachelor of Arts who has been published and paid, overqualified in the art of latte making. My parents are old, that scares me thinking that if I win my lottery, it'll be too late for them to enjoy.
So far the words are still the same, still no answers.
I guess I can break it down this way:
-I hate my minimum wage job because I think I'm better than it, yet I'm still there dealing with stupid and stupid only.
-I work at a student paper with more politics (and more exciting) than what is happening in Ottawa (yet I think we have a better chance at a better fiscal solution).
-I don't trust my friends who can't be there for me as I am there for them, listening to them word for word (as I think they're afraid that they won't be heard either). The dominating type who are even more alone if they don't have someone in the room, the type to take charge but no one wants to march with them.
-My family...I don't talk about them in this however, they are core to me but I don't know if they're good for me (right now).
There are situations that have solutions however where to start? And is there room for me, my voice, my eyes and my heart in this?
I've been looking at this long and hard, asking what a 29 year old is doing stuck in this vicious cycle. I can't keep doing this. Don't you think it's about time that there is a solution...
or do I keep playing lottery tickets.
Tuesday, January 27, 2009
Where did I go...I guess I'm back.
It's taken me a few days to think about this.
Where did I go, here I am. It's the 27th day of the New Year and I've returned (somewhat) to seeing things the way I used to. Well, attempting. Long story short, haven't been myself in months, I've been doing the things I've been doing, just not with heart and soul (no voice too).
Consider me the prettiest doormat in the city, no longer the ATM machine like I was before.
I missed out on commentary and experience such as the many elections endured, one more democratic than the other (while down South has become "Obamafied") her sister of the North is now a big fat joke with shaky Govenment, sliding economics and a shattered reputation.
How the tables have indeed turned.
Been out of the loop in the Montreal scene, full of more hipsters, trendoids and holes in the brain (more than ever). I then wonder if these people think they're better than me when they can't order coffee properly, I think then I may be the most overqualified person in the room and yet I still buy Apparel and look so normal.
I had a friend comment that the Plateau/Mile end have the worst dressers he's seen in this country, come on people: wear (proper) pants. Or simply wear pants.
In the last while I've lost respect to the elitists and the deadbeats (as to me) are the same: treat me like I'm second rate yet are useless without a mate to put down or make them look good. I lost a friend in between girlfriends as I was the in between in a thing we call an "open relationship".
Jerkface has now replaced douchebag in my books.
For a while I didn't feel like drawing, writing this blog and slowly taking pictures will be on that list (these are the "Big Three" of what keeps me going). Without these, I'll be the norm that is at my job during the morning shift, mudane talk of deadbeat boyfriends, wishing to do other things than watching TV and yes, hockey.
For my two cents about this: the Habs are good, Kovalev is not a bum, we're not going to get Lecavalier, if you don't know who the Hell is Jean Beliveau or anything reguarding the history of this franchise then you're a faux fan to me. Out of my face please.
You can guess that lately I've been angry, angry can work on many levels. Here, I'm choosing to put it out there rather than take it out on someone (mainly Jerkface, you can see why I'm pissed).
Mainly because I thought I was going to be hampered by my sh**ty wrist that plagued me last summer, made me misrable and not myself. Now, I'm doing what I can to not let this win, by writing, drawing, taking pictures (even if it bothers me a little). So far, so good via this blog.
I'm slowly getting back, I don't know if this will be consistant. However, the good news is that I'm trying and will keep trying till I feel that I've gotten my point across: as a person, as a friend, as a photographer, as someone creative.
As me.
I guess I'm back to work.
Where did I go, here I am. It's the 27th day of the New Year and I've returned (somewhat) to seeing things the way I used to. Well, attempting. Long story short, haven't been myself in months, I've been doing the things I've been doing, just not with heart and soul (no voice too).
Consider me the prettiest doormat in the city, no longer the ATM machine like I was before.
I missed out on commentary and experience such as the many elections endured, one more democratic than the other (while down South has become "Obamafied") her sister of the North is now a big fat joke with shaky Govenment, sliding economics and a shattered reputation.
How the tables have indeed turned.
Been out of the loop in the Montreal scene, full of more hipsters, trendoids and holes in the brain (more than ever). I then wonder if these people think they're better than me when they can't order coffee properly, I think then I may be the most overqualified person in the room and yet I still buy Apparel and look so normal.
I had a friend comment that the Plateau/Mile end have the worst dressers he's seen in this country, come on people: wear (proper) pants. Or simply wear pants.
In the last while I've lost respect to the elitists and the deadbeats (as to me) are the same: treat me like I'm second rate yet are useless without a mate to put down or make them look good. I lost a friend in between girlfriends as I was the in between in a thing we call an "open relationship".
Jerkface has now replaced douchebag in my books.
For a while I didn't feel like drawing, writing this blog and slowly taking pictures will be on that list (these are the "Big Three" of what keeps me going). Without these, I'll be the norm that is at my job during the morning shift, mudane talk of deadbeat boyfriends, wishing to do other things than watching TV and yes, hockey.
For my two cents about this: the Habs are good, Kovalev is not a bum, we're not going to get Lecavalier, if you don't know who the Hell is Jean Beliveau or anything reguarding the history of this franchise then you're a faux fan to me. Out of my face please.
You can guess that lately I've been angry, angry can work on many levels. Here, I'm choosing to put it out there rather than take it out on someone (mainly Jerkface, you can see why I'm pissed).
Mainly because I thought I was going to be hampered by my sh**ty wrist that plagued me last summer, made me misrable and not myself. Now, I'm doing what I can to not let this win, by writing, drawing, taking pictures (even if it bothers me a little). So far, so good via this blog.
I'm slowly getting back, I don't know if this will be consistant. However, the good news is that I'm trying and will keep trying till I feel that I've gotten my point across: as a person, as a friend, as a photographer, as someone creative.
As me.
I guess I'm back to work.
Tuesday, September 9, 2008
Sh**ty Wrists = Sh**ty Attitude
There will be no rest until everything is under control.
I'm literally on day 13 of a 14 day work week, where I'm working my minimum wage job along with working at a student paper (finding photographers and taking pictures) and well, biting my tongue about certain people's ideals and decisions. I'm back to being a busy girl after a summer of complete burnout. The same work mode as mentioned however throw in a bottle of gin, the Fringe festival and the politics of what a promiscuous inner circle= moments of self loathing and not truly being myself.
But that's the least of the problem.
I developed a wrist problem which has transcended into tendinitis, finally diagnosed last week as a freaked out my doctor over my sheer flexibility (no one is supposed to be bendy like that, ew). My health is now on the line, as a photographer and as a person. This could jeopardize my chances of ever taking pictures for a major publication or anything if I don't get any better.
However, this is what I'm up against.
Apparently at my job, I'm the only person that knows how to make a sandwich. No one knows how to cook, even the woman I work with in the back (she has 3 children and doesn't know how to cook pasta, I figure this is a family of take out).
At the paper I work at, editors think I'm a psychic so I have to guess the time and place on where to send my photographers (including myself), including the names of people I have to take pics of. "Instead of telling me, meet at a battleship at 10 am, tell me 'we're covering a conference by National Defence, 10:30." This is where you will have a photographer showing up.
Having friends who think are better than most (pride ridden) say you can stay with them, only finding out at 2AM after a long day of work followed by travel, that they left their keys in their apt and have to watch them break into their old place to crash. And this is the 3rd time I've seen this happen.
I won't get into the nitty gritty of my family life however there is that one member who really is taking advantage even though she has no advantage at all.
And then you throw in an unnecessary election and stir up more havoc.
How on earth am I supposed to get any better when my attitude is no better than anyone who thinks they are better than me. Where is the common sense that I work my a** off and what I get in return is abuse and sh**ty wrists.
Someone that used to work my coffee shop job recommended another specialist, someone more athletic friendly than medical. Already feeling the havoc of thinking about another thing to do with my wrists, I get annoyed as this is the last thing I want to think about after working a nine hour shift.
Since the diagnosis, I've gotten my focus back. I know what it is, I don't have to wonder what's going to happen to me as a photographer and as a person, this is treatable, there are ways to treat it. I will do anything now to be a healthy photographer when the pressure is on. I do however have to remember to ease up and relax now and then. I mustn't forget to have a better attitude as they equal to better wrists.
I guess that's my excuse to feel better about myself.
I'm literally on day 13 of a 14 day work week, where I'm working my minimum wage job along with working at a student paper (finding photographers and taking pictures) and well, biting my tongue about certain people's ideals and decisions. I'm back to being a busy girl after a summer of complete burnout. The same work mode as mentioned however throw in a bottle of gin, the Fringe festival and the politics of what a promiscuous inner circle= moments of self loathing and not truly being myself.
But that's the least of the problem.
I developed a wrist problem which has transcended into tendinitis, finally diagnosed last week as a freaked out my doctor over my sheer flexibility (no one is supposed to be bendy like that, ew). My health is now on the line, as a photographer and as a person. This could jeopardize my chances of ever taking pictures for a major publication or anything if I don't get any better.
However, this is what I'm up against.
Apparently at my job, I'm the only person that knows how to make a sandwich. No one knows how to cook, even the woman I work with in the back (she has 3 children and doesn't know how to cook pasta, I figure this is a family of take out).
At the paper I work at, editors think I'm a psychic so I have to guess the time and place on where to send my photographers (including myself), including the names of people I have to take pics of. "Instead of telling me, meet at a battleship at 10 am, tell me 'we're covering a conference by National Defence, 10:30." This is where you will have a photographer showing up.
Having friends who think are better than most (pride ridden) say you can stay with them, only finding out at 2AM after a long day of work followed by travel, that they left their keys in their apt and have to watch them break into their old place to crash. And this is the 3rd time I've seen this happen.
I won't get into the nitty gritty of my family life however there is that one member who really is taking advantage even though she has no advantage at all.
And then you throw in an unnecessary election and stir up more havoc.
How on earth am I supposed to get any better when my attitude is no better than anyone who thinks they are better than me. Where is the common sense that I work my a** off and what I get in return is abuse and sh**ty wrists.
Someone that used to work my coffee shop job recommended another specialist, someone more athletic friendly than medical. Already feeling the havoc of thinking about another thing to do with my wrists, I get annoyed as this is the last thing I want to think about after working a nine hour shift.
Since the diagnosis, I've gotten my focus back. I know what it is, I don't have to wonder what's going to happen to me as a photographer and as a person, this is treatable, there are ways to treat it. I will do anything now to be a healthy photographer when the pressure is on. I do however have to remember to ease up and relax now and then. I mustn't forget to have a better attitude as they equal to better wrists.
I guess that's my excuse to feel better about myself.
Monday, August 25, 2008
Why the Olympics are no Different to The Arts
To sum things up after experiencing the thrill of victory and the agony of defeat, I want to go to the olympics. I think I do this every 2 years, whether it's the winter or the summer, to be a part of an event half the world is participating as either athelte, media, employer or citizen whose backyard is used to host. I envy and end up adding (whatever city) to my wish list of travel, Beijing is now an idea one day, like Barcelona was when I went 4 years ago. I'm aware of the smog and the human rights however I'll do my best to be objective about it.
Besides, the photographers made this look so appealing. I want in.
I enjoyed being up at weird hours to watch the swim team and having the knowledge to understand what the appeal of our swim team and Michael Phelps is all about, my sister used to compete as a swimmer and watches the sport avidly. Funny, as she's more of the sports oriented and I'm in the arts, after watching and learning the stories on how the athletes got there and what it took to be there for a several seconds of glory...
...sports are no different than arts.
Seriously, it takes a lot to get there, to train in hopes to be something. There's sacrifice and dedication to become either Olympican or Creator. These are the crafts that parents fear their child will become because there's a lack of income, oh no, I'm raising either a jock or an artist.
Just great.
However, there's passion when there is focus, there is inspiration and confidence. There always has to be confidence when either competing or creating. Think of this as a Fringe show:
routine, write, rewrite, apply and hope you do get into the Fringe (or Fringes), rewrite and public read, rehearse (lots of time and money), focus on promoting your ass off in hopes that the audience will show. And when they show, you better put on the performance of your life, everyone watching, you don't stumble on your lines or your feet and believe that this show has what it takes to be a 4 star (the gold and the memorable) 3 star isn't too bad (as the silver and hope that the audience will remember you). 2 stars means you rather come in 4th.
That's right, confidence and focus, going for glory. The analogy works in many ways.
Well, that's how I see it. I really am into the sports than in the arts. It's like how Ustan Bolt put it as he points and waves, blows kisses into the crowd and pounds his chests and screams after setting another world record, he is a preformer, this is what the crowd wants.
Sports is simply another form of entertainment. Itself an art form, check out the photo galleries or read the stories. It is like dance, theatre, the tall man show posse like a basketball team, sketch com like swimming, you get the picture.
In the case of Canada, it is also lacking funding (in both areas).
The government announced that they are cutting funding in the Arts, the same time that Canada was medal less the first 7 days of the Olympics, it didn't look good for the nation knowing that our best can't compete and be elite like the rest. Most of the sports competing either have lack of or no funding at all (money coming from the athetes pockets). Funding is essental so more people can either play or perform. Talent cannot be wasted however we all can't be like Michael Phelps, we're not forturnate to have endoresments or funding, there are staving atheltes and artists out there.
Meanwhile, Phelps eats for 6 people in one day (I really wanted to use the joke).
I actually would want to see funding in sports, sports are inspiring and confidence boosting. It creates jobs for coaches, there's a science into wanting to be faster, going higher, becoming stronger. The sacrifice in training, no real life for a mere few seconds, the pay off if you finish in the top 10. I enjoy watching and cheering for someone who either was brought up by a single mom or living in poverty. These stories are memerable, like the South African who does open water swimming (and has only one limb), or the 1st medal for Afganistan or someone coming back from a serious injury, to perservere from adverstity.
I don't come across that in the arts, all I see are egos, divas and lack of originality. I'm ashamed of what I've seen in the last while, I ask myself if we (as artists) ever inspire for the good of people. I've seen some good shows however was not happy about the attitude. I do believe in confidence however all I see instead are assholes. Also, I don't recall anything that I found memorable, I remember the 1/1000 of a second win from Phelps or 9.68 from Bolt but I don't recall what Fringe show I liked in Toronto or a dance show or vernissage I enjoyed.
My point of view is this: Vancouver is next to host the world, there is a campain called "Own the Podium" where the goal is for Canada to finish first in medals, win some golds. They are putting funding in all sports to hit the podium or finish in the top 10, to compete with the likes of the United States, Russia, China, Australia. Countries that have proper funding in both fields of sports and arts.
Maybe Canada should do something like that with the Arts, that each field should earn it's way. I want to believe that the arts can do good however in the last while I'm not impress. I want to be inspired, I only see it in the pool or on the track, not the stage or at a gallery.
However, there is one thing that both the Olympic village and the Fringe circuit has something to boast about: what happens in the village, stays in the village (if you get what I mean).
Go Canada. This is where having a medal matters.
Besides, the photographers made this look so appealing. I want in.
I enjoyed being up at weird hours to watch the swim team and having the knowledge to understand what the appeal of our swim team and Michael Phelps is all about, my sister used to compete as a swimmer and watches the sport avidly. Funny, as she's more of the sports oriented and I'm in the arts, after watching and learning the stories on how the athletes got there and what it took to be there for a several seconds of glory...
...sports are no different than arts.
Seriously, it takes a lot to get there, to train in hopes to be something. There's sacrifice and dedication to become either Olympican or Creator. These are the crafts that parents fear their child will become because there's a lack of income, oh no, I'm raising either a jock or an artist.
Just great.
However, there's passion when there is focus, there is inspiration and confidence. There always has to be confidence when either competing or creating. Think of this as a Fringe show:
routine, write, rewrite, apply and hope you do get into the Fringe (or Fringes), rewrite and public read, rehearse (lots of time and money), focus on promoting your ass off in hopes that the audience will show. And when they show, you better put on the performance of your life, everyone watching, you don't stumble on your lines or your feet and believe that this show has what it takes to be a 4 star (the gold and the memorable) 3 star isn't too bad (as the silver and hope that the audience will remember you). 2 stars means you rather come in 4th.
That's right, confidence and focus, going for glory. The analogy works in many ways.
Well, that's how I see it. I really am into the sports than in the arts. It's like how Ustan Bolt put it as he points and waves, blows kisses into the crowd and pounds his chests and screams after setting another world record, he is a preformer, this is what the crowd wants.
Sports is simply another form of entertainment. Itself an art form, check out the photo galleries or read the stories. It is like dance, theatre, the tall man show posse like a basketball team, sketch com like swimming, you get the picture.
In the case of Canada, it is also lacking funding (in both areas).
The government announced that they are cutting funding in the Arts, the same time that Canada was medal less the first 7 days of the Olympics, it didn't look good for the nation knowing that our best can't compete and be elite like the rest. Most of the sports competing either have lack of or no funding at all (money coming from the athetes pockets). Funding is essental so more people can either play or perform. Talent cannot be wasted however we all can't be like Michael Phelps, we're not forturnate to have endoresments or funding, there are staving atheltes and artists out there.
Meanwhile, Phelps eats for 6 people in one day (I really wanted to use the joke).
I actually would want to see funding in sports, sports are inspiring and confidence boosting. It creates jobs for coaches, there's a science into wanting to be faster, going higher, becoming stronger. The sacrifice in training, no real life for a mere few seconds, the pay off if you finish in the top 10. I enjoy watching and cheering for someone who either was brought up by a single mom or living in poverty. These stories are memerable, like the South African who does open water swimming (and has only one limb), or the 1st medal for Afganistan or someone coming back from a serious injury, to perservere from adverstity.
I don't come across that in the arts, all I see are egos, divas and lack of originality. I'm ashamed of what I've seen in the last while, I ask myself if we (as artists) ever inspire for the good of people. I've seen some good shows however was not happy about the attitude. I do believe in confidence however all I see instead are assholes. Also, I don't recall anything that I found memorable, I remember the 1/1000 of a second win from Phelps or 9.68 from Bolt but I don't recall what Fringe show I liked in Toronto or a dance show or vernissage I enjoyed.
My point of view is this: Vancouver is next to host the world, there is a campain called "Own the Podium" where the goal is for Canada to finish first in medals, win some golds. They are putting funding in all sports to hit the podium or finish in the top 10, to compete with the likes of the United States, Russia, China, Australia. Countries that have proper funding in both fields of sports and arts.
Maybe Canada should do something like that with the Arts, that each field should earn it's way. I want to believe that the arts can do good however in the last while I'm not impress. I want to be inspired, I only see it in the pool or on the track, not the stage or at a gallery.
However, there is one thing that both the Olympic village and the Fringe circuit has something to boast about: what happens in the village, stays in the village (if you get what I mean).
Go Canada. This is where having a medal matters.
Monday, August 11, 2008
Now or Never, rules and goals for year 29
So, a few days ago I turned 29 on the 08/08/08. I must mentioned I was born at precisely 12:21 AM. If you're really a true believer of numerology then I must be a walking lottery ticket. I've been on the contemplative side (hence the title of my blog) and evaluating what has happened so far photo wise the last few years and in the last 6 months personally.
I'm doing good as a photographer, not so as a person.
Two years ago at 27 I never saw myself getting published and taking pics of bands, theatre and getting paid. I also was with a somewhat awesome guy who would later on tell me I'm not suited to be his wife and bear his children and has never paid me back for helping him inbetween jobs.
This might explain a lot about my dating record as I dwell on those words like an atlethe making a mistake that would cost them big. It's hard to shake off the psychology of bad incidents however I entered a slippery slope of bad events since I graduated from University. Like most of us, the achievement of finishing the degree is the end of a journey that has been a third of our lives. The opportunity of doing whatever we please can be a blessing and a curse, true freedom can be powerful but can make you vulnerable.
I learned that the hard way and here I am redeeming myself for what has happened. It's now or never, what is there left to lose?
For one thing, I changed the title of my Blog to Simply know Better (I dropped the "I" for the sake of not totally being the central character in this). Other thing is that I will attempt to submit at least once every two weeks as I need to improve on my writing in order to believe that the creative writing degree was for a purpose.
This is year 2 out of school, still at the same job for the last five years, more weirdoes attempting to "shoot and score" however "misses the crossbar" (in short: to get into my pants and not my heart) and the frustation of clueless nowheres surrounding the city.
Thus including some art related situations.
I sit here decided what to do next. School is an option however I wish to really give photography the chance I know it deserves. However...
I don't want to be an art person.
I want to do photojournalism instead. I want to use photo as a tool of healing, to serve a purpose. I have a hard time when I hang out with musicans, actors, even political science majors. I sometimes feel that there are bad intentions, secrets, backstabbing, egos and self fishness.
My parents did not sacrifice and raised me to become pretencious and idiotic. They also didn't raise me to be a flake and a douchebag that I was in the last few months.
In finding a balance, you have to really be yourself, not a photographer or student or employee. It's a challenge to stay sane in the industry, wanting you to like what they like when you think it's a bunch of crap. Also to like what you like knowing that what you like is genuine and sincere and not bandwagoning on a trend or what others think. It's hard when you think about how much crap is out there, how people have forgotten what outside is like or what tradition can be.
I think when I do photos there has to be a reason, more than a story. Why am I doing this, why should I care. Why should you guys read a blog that hasn't found a focus yet. I'm looking for one right now, lost a lot a ground this last while.
In the next posting there will be my awesome lists. In the meantime, my main goal for year 29 will be to redeem my focus.
I'm doing good as a photographer, not so as a person.
Two years ago at 27 I never saw myself getting published and taking pics of bands, theatre and getting paid. I also was with a somewhat awesome guy who would later on tell me I'm not suited to be his wife and bear his children and has never paid me back for helping him inbetween jobs.
This might explain a lot about my dating record as I dwell on those words like an atlethe making a mistake that would cost them big. It's hard to shake off the psychology of bad incidents however I entered a slippery slope of bad events since I graduated from University. Like most of us, the achievement of finishing the degree is the end of a journey that has been a third of our lives. The opportunity of doing whatever we please can be a blessing and a curse, true freedom can be powerful but can make you vulnerable.
I learned that the hard way and here I am redeeming myself for what has happened. It's now or never, what is there left to lose?
For one thing, I changed the title of my Blog to Simply know Better (I dropped the "I" for the sake of not totally being the central character in this). Other thing is that I will attempt to submit at least once every two weeks as I need to improve on my writing in order to believe that the creative writing degree was for a purpose.
This is year 2 out of school, still at the same job for the last five years, more weirdoes attempting to "shoot and score" however "misses the crossbar" (in short: to get into my pants and not my heart) and the frustation of clueless nowheres surrounding the city.
Thus including some art related situations.
I sit here decided what to do next. School is an option however I wish to really give photography the chance I know it deserves. However...
I don't want to be an art person.
I want to do photojournalism instead. I want to use photo as a tool of healing, to serve a purpose. I have a hard time when I hang out with musicans, actors, even political science majors. I sometimes feel that there are bad intentions, secrets, backstabbing, egos and self fishness.
My parents did not sacrifice and raised me to become pretencious and idiotic. They also didn't raise me to be a flake and a douchebag that I was in the last few months.
In finding a balance, you have to really be yourself, not a photographer or student or employee. It's a challenge to stay sane in the industry, wanting you to like what they like when you think it's a bunch of crap. Also to like what you like knowing that what you like is genuine and sincere and not bandwagoning on a trend or what others think. It's hard when you think about how much crap is out there, how people have forgotten what outside is like or what tradition can be.
I think when I do photos there has to be a reason, more than a story. Why am I doing this, why should I care. Why should you guys read a blog that hasn't found a focus yet. I'm looking for one right now, lost a lot a ground this last while.
In the next posting there will be my awesome lists. In the meantime, my main goal for year 29 will be to redeem my focus.
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The story so far...
- Cindy Lopez
- Montreal, Quebec, Canada
- Cindy is trying her best to make a career as a photographer and throws in her writing as a balance (as she did a degree in Creative Writing). Cindy may have this background however still wants to understand what makes people tick, have strange stories of their own and why is it so hard from them to order coffee (really, it's not that hard).