Self reflection ispired by a blog.

I saw this over coffee this morning. It caused me to ponder...

Ah, self reflection over points in time. It's interesting when you can identify a particular unexpected event that changes or shapes your life in some way.

I remember one such moment when I was a student at Memorial in a rather emotionally tumultuous time. I ended up missing a linear algrebra (or was it calculus?) exam because I because quite ill with the flu.

It was deferred with a doctor's note, except the head of the math department didn't think I was a very good student (I wasn't one actually). He denied my deferral though I had missed the exam already. I ended up with a 0 on an exam worth 50% of the final grade. Needless to say I failed that course in a BIG BIG way but it also caused me to fail out of school. I was able to retake the exam in the end though I still failed the course. I had failed out of school for about 10 days, and it was during that period I lost my summer job with the university since I had to be a returning student to get it.

That's when a few things happened -- I got a job in a non-profit arts magazine. I left school to work full time. Because I lost the summer job, I ended up making a career out of being a writer to a point where I was actually making a living at it. Granted I ended up eventually whoring my writing skills as an advertising "creative", but still actually paying the bills as a writer? *gasp*

Not only did the event changed what my summer job was, that in retrospect is trivial, but it ended up shaping the next several years in a direction I never would've expected.

Several years later, I ended up going back to school, even making the Dean's list (*gasp*). A far cry from the eccentric guy that use to hang out on the Third Floor of the TSC.

Ah, the 3rd floor of the TSC. Memories... Sniff.... Memories of someone setting my copy of The Muse on fire while I was reading it (they were attempting the opening sequence of Bonanza in real life...)

Amongst the Merry

Here's a photo that I took a couple of years ago back in St. John's, Newfoundland on a visit.

I like it.

In fact, it helps inspire me. I did my first art show a month agoI didn't sell anything at the show much, but the point is I went out and tried -- and I'm now making arrangements to sell on consignment through a local home decor store.

This photo got a good response -- mostly people wanted to figure out the media. It's a photograph of a painting on a concrete wall. It seemed to dissapoint people when they found out I didn't draw or paint it myself, or did fancy photographic tricks to layer the plants on top of face image. It was just a photo. *sigh* No fancy photoshop'ing. The only trick was that it was a snapshot of real moment in time.

Now, this perturb me a bit. There were other photographers selling at the same show, mostly digital or the traditional 4x6s printed in bulk via the kodak lab at the local grocery store. Good on 'em I suppose -- they have the nerve to get out there which I didn't until recently.

But what I think about my photographs is I do almost NO digital -- I have a couple which I print because the image just *worked* but mostly it's me and my canon or if I'm feeling extra artsy, the rolleiflex magic.

A black and white photograph is often me choosing the film, the speed, the apperture, developing the film (for better or worse, if I'm using the medium format camera, it IS me developing the film), going into the dark room, choosing the lens, the filters, the paper, figuring out exposure, going splish-splash with the chemicals, washing, and drying (trying to avoid water spots) and then looking for a good matte or frame. A long process, all hands on involved and leaving the fact that each time I do it, it will be slightly different. I often don't print the same image more than a couple of times -- and if at a later date if I want to reprint something, I have to go through the entire darkroom process all over again, and often with different settings because I've either forgotten what I've done or want to do it differently....

This is why I don't go digital. I'm not against digital photography -- a lot of cool things can be done that way, but I enjoy the process. For me, it feels more artistically significant -- more unique, not just in the process but in the final product. Going digital makes reproduction simple

But it also means it's more expensive to do, need more space, have too much equipment around the house and in the end, I have to charge more because it costs more -- but to stay competitive and actually sell anything I have to lower the prices to stay competivitve with the digital people.
Then again, I don't make my livelihood via the arts anymore. I am not going to miss a meal or car payment if I don't sell that piece of work. I can afford to be "artistically sensitive" and self delusional about my artistic endeavours.

I am a jealous bastard

Epiphany. Bang! Like a brick to the back of my skull, rattling brains and such.

I've had a few recently. Epiphanies... not bricks (such as "I'm not a patient as I thought I was"). The most recent is that I AM A JEALOUS BASTARD.

Here's the scenario... you find a blog of someone you once knew. From that blog you find a link that takes you to another person that you also knew -- follow that chain a few more links and *poof* you stop and gaze at an old acquaintance's online presence. This person has achieved a lot in his personal passion. He has a web page about it. And *voila!* I am a jealous bastard.

It's not that I haven't achieved much. House, job, kid, some savings, a car. I'm good at what I do. But have I achieved much in any way of a passion?

At one point, writing was my passion and I even had some modicum of success (it even paid the bills at one point and was my full time job). But that was a long time ago. A month ago, I had my first art showing. But there was no juried selection, I just asked to show and they had space to fill. Oh, and I only sold prints to people I was related to either by marriage or the usual means. If... I... had... just... sold... one... (I had plenty of positive comments though). So that's a first step.

I wish all people I know and knew all the success they deserve (well, mostly. I can be a nasty bastard too sometimes).

The first step is to recognize my flaws and failings. The next is to improve upon them (not, how to become a better jealous bastard....). Of course, I do wax poetic on this blog don't I? How self-indulgent this is.

I've joined the iPOD generation...

Now my life is complete.

The fact that I own an iPOD itself doesn't make me complete. Perhaps it is the fact that I am listening to The Clash on the afore mentioned device while I write this is what makes me complete. Maybe I will next listen to some Alien Sex Fiend, or The Cure.

I can live out my rebel yell, while working away with the other Sector 7 corporate drones in the cubical I've called home for the past 6.5 years. All in the discrete package of an iPOD nano.

No need for me to dig up my knee-high combat boots. No need to dress in black. I can have my punk lifestyle, old school and hardcore, in my head as I twiddle bits to make the corporation happy.

I can feel like I've regained my rock-n-roll edge -- if it is only in the void between the headphones.

I'm not saying that I ever had the edge. I probably never did. I probably am and was delusional -- just the delusion that you buy into evolves over time.

This little piece of consumer culture sells itself on rock-n-roll and that your individuality is the playlist of songs that you've downloaded from iTunes. You can bob your head to the beat with your fist in the air while surrounded in your own tiny bubble of individuality. It's like the jeans commercial that pushed being an individual if you just buy Levi's 501. It's the selling of cool.

Congratulations, I've just purchased another piece of my so-called individualism from a corporation -- just like I've done countless times before. I just realize it now.

Maybe I'm just having a cynical day.