Mar 26, 2018 — Leave a comment

Sometimes it feels like there’s this focus to constantly try to please others into liking you. And sometimes it feels like you’re amputating parts of your personality and interests rather than adjusting or adapting. This is not saying that my own experience is that shit or that great but it feels like that. This push and pull and the longing and the unwanting of trying to make new relationships versus accepting the undying truth of “you’re going to die alone someday.”

My current mood is this need to evolve my own characteristics and trying to be more open to different ideas and people. That’s what my heart desires. Or is it because of my failures is not because of my own lack of friend-making but because of not finding the right types of people?

Back in 2011, this theory proved right when I walked into a class full of film geeks and started to try and learn (or not learn) the craft of screenwriting. Being surrounded by people similar to me, made it sooooooo much easier to kick back and shoot the shit as violently as one wanted.

It’s like what my dad did as a kid, running out in the rice paddies with his buddies with firecrackers. Let them up and toss ’em in a pile of buffalo shit and run like the wind.

Because when that shit explodes, it’s going to AWESOME.

When that fellowship broke up, the next group that had a similar feel was the 2014 improv stint that got me out of my deep and darkest parts of my mind and reawoken my inner child to play with other misfits on the road of happy mistakes and moments.

And now, it’s 2018 and I’m feeling like an overworked dog and a lazy ass bugger who isn’t getting down and dirty with the writing. It hurts because it’s my own undoing.

Take, for instance, my promise that I would really analyze some of my favourite films to study and break them down for MYSELF and see if I can get that “a-ha!” moment for my own self-education. And you know what? I busted up that journal and looked at an incomplete date of watching Jurassic Park and noticed that I stopped mid-way and that was in June 2017.

My heart… the spasms of disgust.

It feels like the biggest letdown of letdowns. To promise and not follow through.

That’s the biggest lesson that the past few months have been about for my life.

Coffee, the drug of my life, has been kicked and curb stomped out of existence. It’s been about 82 days since my last cup of coffee and the tub of Folgers is still on my desk to tempt me every chance my eyes lock onto its bright red colour.

Walking, the only exercise that fits my current schedule and budget, went from an average of 6865 daily steps and a distance of 5.39 km last month… to 11,749 daily steps and a distance of 9.17 km this month. There are moments that my inner gut wants to cop out and jump on the subway to skip the whole commute from the first job to the second… but, you just snap out of it and move on.

Reading every day is better. My current obsession is The Count of Monte Cristo by Alexandre Dumas and it’s truly a big ass novel that struts like a strip down thriller that moves along at a blazing pace. Perhaps it’s the translation by Robin Buss that makes it flows so well but there are moments that it does feel like a Tarantino-esque. Or should I call this the original Tarantino? There are a few one-on-one moments between characters and the interplay between them is just addictive to read.

Just reading 20 pages is my magic number. So far, it’s working.

These are my sources of happiness.

Other areas that need a kick in the face: write more and mingle with other artsy farts.

The solution for problem one: chop the ego down, admit your failures and try to be accountable.

My reluctance to studying up on structure has moved from repulsive to acceptance to formulaic and now back to ground zero where I’m doing that whole “figure it out on your own” method of looking at favourite movies and seeing if I can break it down for myself. There are flashes of wow moments. Like mentioned earlier, looking at my notes for my last viewing of Jurassic Park really impressed myself. There were ideas and themes that leaped out at me and moments that I didn’t realize the filmmakers did until reflected upon. That’s why it’s so important to read the news and not watch the news — things fly by so quickly via audio-visual mediums that there isn’t time to really analyze what the fuck is truly happening.

To make myself accountable, it’s important to exhaust every possible resource for the single determined goal of getting things made. And this being a collaborative medium, it’s best to rekindle all those relationships and try to make the best of it. That way, you have somebody to bounce ideas and possibly ignite some of that jet fuel in your creative soul. And the ego thing goes with this point too… because at this age, you either die alone with all your crummy ideas in your head and in your notebooks or you get out there and share and dissect and vomit and slurp up and vomit again and collect the itty bitty pieces to glue in a neat little collage.

That’s my current hopes for this outlet.

But, not we return to the whole friendship woes.

There are moments where it feels like everyone has already met their friend list quota of that average seven and you’re the one who is left out in the outer circle. If I had to count how many people there were in my life, there would barely be a movement on my fingers to indicate a counted number. For those who I remain close, they are still distant in some capacity. Life has truly dragged us far apart from each other and led us down different paths. That has really affected how much effort there is needed to call upon these folks.

Do we really need friends? What is the purpose? To just distract yourself from the inevitable end? To share hobbies? To share a meal? The meaning of life, according to my high school physics teacher, is to create meaningful relationships between people. But, that’s it. He didn’t mention more than that point. And with this modern age of social media, damn it’s getting harder to find someone to just talk to.

Excuses are just laziness in disguise and the fear of putting effort and commitment in anything that seems new. There is still leftover desires to jump back into improv because my emotions are all pent up and my eye contact with strangers is waning down again. There’s that dark corner in the back of my mind that is waving a shadowy hand to woo me back into the depression I was before.

Yet, should friendship cost $200+ a term?

My lack of trusted comrades is affecting me in two other facets… overeating and prolonged window shopping that is crossing over into retail therapeutic practices of purchasing useless junk and/or food.

Being away from your lover doesn’t help too. Actually, it’s probably that void that is sucking the life out of my body. Sure the teaching jobs allow me to vent some of that energy out but those are just day/night jobs. Satisfying on a certain level of society but not so much in the social and creative departments.

One thing for sure, I haven’t given up.


Full stop.


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