Today I was Productive

Well Said

Coming from someone whose work I’ve always admired, this takes a considerable amount of pressure off.

One of Jarmusch’s five golden rules (and most appropriate concerning me) taken from a MovieMaker article in 2004. His other rules are available on their site.

Po Bronson

Due to a very fierce case of insomnia that has settled in with me for almost a week now and my incapability to take any sleeping meds, I have resulted in attempting to write myself to sleep. Unfortunately my mind hasn’t completely thawed out yet, therefore the writing of a whole short story, which is what I have been trying to do for the past week in vain, would be rather impossible at the moment. After writing my last post, I became intrigued by this Po Bronson character who was able to define the very thing I was fleeing and the reason for doing so all in one quote on the side of a Starbucks cup. I decided to look him up and was pleasantly surprised to find what seems to be my literary soul-mate (or at least one of many). He wrote a book entitled “What Should I Do With My Life?” Po, where have you been all of mine? This piece of work compiles 50 short stories of people confronted with that ticking-time-bomb question. A few are available on his website.

Those close to me know that I am working on a collection of short stories based on certain aspects of life and that I have very recently taken a strong liking to fiction which has slowly started to influence my work. Last night I saw the new Jim Jarmusch film: The Limits of Control. When I read that Christopher Doyle (In The Mood For Love) was behind the cinematography, I was there in a heartbeat because I was hoping it would knock something loose. Doyle was one of those responsible for giving me a wider vision of how things can be captured/perceived and how by simply framing a subject in another manner, you could change the image’s entire signification. Evidently this principle can be applied to words as well. The same story can be written in many ways depending on where you feel the emphasis should be put. Of course with fiction, the possibilities become endless, hence my sudden lenience towards it. However after reading a few of Bronson’s factual stories, I am again torn. Perhaps I will merely have to write two books simultaneously.

Day 18: Coincidence?

Confession: I have a major weakness for corporate coffee giant commonly known as Starbucks. It has been one of the very few things able to induce me out of my cocoon of an apartment during the last couple of days – yes, tragic I don’t deny it. My point being anyone who goes to Starbucks must have at least once read the small texts on the side of their cups entitled “The Way I See It”… or maybe not, I could just be a nerd like that. Well these cups remind me of fortune cookies in the sense that you get different texts each time. Funny thing is my last few were always the same:

“The Way I See It #26
Faliure’s hard, but success is far more dangerous. If you’re successful at the wrong thing, the mix of praise and money and opportunity can lock you in forever.
-Po Bronson”

Either somehow the people at Starbucks can sense my lingering fear of making the wrong decision about ditching my great job and future career in fashion for University and my passion for writing or it’s just a creepy coincidence. Definitely a tough call; nevertheless I am in the process of breaking the locks in order to not be a prisoner of what would be my unhappy success, but thanks for caring Starbucks!

Day 15 (Day 16, AM): The Internal Battle

Procrastination at its finest. A penny for my thoughts? I’d dish out a few hundred right now in order to extract a reflection. The conversion of thought process into written word seemed so taxing today; I really couldn’t bring myself to it. Is my weakening will a symptom of my current condition? If this is the case I should hope it be very brief. Ideas are vigorously smacking themselves against the membrane of my mind wanting to procreate, yet in vain. They remain outcast and panting in the abyss in which I seem to be residing in.

At 7:30 this evening I forced myself out of the house after several hours of hanging fire with the sole desire of dining at my choice Vietnamese restaurant only to find out, seven kilometers on foot later, they were closed? Feeling sore and strangely defeated I opted for another Vietnamese restaurant a few doors down that ended up making me queasy. Determined to do something productive, I had brought my camera along with me although even this seemed laborious.

Dear tomorrow, please be prolific ok?

Thank you in advance.
Sincerely, C.

Terrace Season

Apparently we weren’t the only ones anticipating its arrival!

New Beginning

And there it is!

My redemption.

Day 7: Hospitals and Greenhouses

I have yet to meet someone who enjoys spending time in a hospital (doctors and nurses exempt). The chosen color palettes and unattractive furnishings just do absolutely nothing to ease your anxiety of having to be there in the first place. Even if I need to go on a regular basis as I have been doing so lately, I still cannot seem to get accustomed to dodging wheelchairs and stretchers down dull pastel corridors. However, the emplacement of a medical establishment can be a great comfort at times. For instance, the Westmount greenhouses – built in 1927, are a walking distance from several clinics and hospitals. After a couple difficult visits at either or, I was relieved to find refuge amongst the flora so well kept underneath the hard water marked windows.
I think all hospitals should have greenhouses.

Finally Gotcha!!!

Phototherapy: On the road to recovery… One frame at a time.


My new Nikon D90, yes ladies and gentlemen THE Nikon D90.
Let the good times roll.

Day 1: She wasn't Invincible

When the “no, no it can’t happen to me”s reveal themselves to be completely false, it’s a pretty rude awakening. She told me it felt like she was sitting amidst burnt rubble that was once a life. It’s best to stop the burning ball of tumbleweed before it picks up speed and burns down the barn. Unfortunately for her, she learnt that the hard way. Instead, she was edging it on to go faster and faster – till it burnt her down, not the barn. Trying to build something all over again amongst the remains of what once was and the painful memories of how it all came apart is much more difficult than simply fixing it before the damage becomes too great. She learnt that she did indeed have limits and now she will be forced learn to cope with what happens when you breach them. Scattered across the city are the ashes of her well being after which she must run and catch in order to achieve wholeness again.