Thursday, April 30, 2009
The In-Laws Have Cows
The chosen from the roll shot at my brother Jon's fiance Danelle's parent's farm.
Wednesday, April 29, 2009
This Octopus Is Going to Eat Your Face
I slipped. It was on ice, which makes it about month or so ago. I caught myself with my right arm positioned straight putting all the force on my shoulder. I can't articulate what I felt, it was just a general feeling of sharp pain which kept me from concentrating on such details. I might have felt my shoulder pop out, I might have felt it crack, I couldn't recall as I lay on the ground rubbing my throbbing shoulder. I suffered through the next few days of severe discomfort, but felt all it needed was some time to heal.
I should have know to go get it checked out right away from my previous experience with my breaking my right knee cap. I'd been down this path before, but of course, my testosterone told me I would be fine and to not worry about it. I'll walk it off. So now it's a month later (better than the six months it took for my knee), and I'm spending a good chunk of my day in the waiting room at the Pan Am clinic.
I've been here before so I know the wait that is ahead of me. I brought a copy of CS Lewis's 'Voyage to Venus' but find it hard to concentrate due to the TV playing over my head and the growing impulse to peek over the top of the book and people watch. That guy right across from me looks like a mess with road rash on the side of his face and his arm cradled into his body. The twenty something possibly farmer, possibly construction worker in the corner has a cast peaking out from the sleeve of his mud encrusted jacket while the girl beside him reading some generic women's magazine has a tensor bandage wrapped around her knee. I start to analyze how I must look amidst such apparent injury. No abrasions, no bandages, I'm not even limping. I must look like some hypochondriac come to waste the doctors time. I feel inadequately injured amidst such bodily trauma. I should have faked a limp.
After what seems like the better part of the day watching the more deserving lead away to the doctor one by one, my name is called. "Just in here," she says, "and have your shirt off." There is no more self criticizing time than sitting in the doctors room looking at the lump of pasty white winter weight that has secured itself to my midriff. I'm here to get my shoulder checked out, but I fear the doctor might in the objective interest of my health say something or at least cast chastising glance. Anyone else, in any other situation has the obligation of social etiquette to not speak of it, but a doctor, no matter how low he makes your self-esteem must be thanked for his sage advice. There is no greater motivation to hit the gym than sitting in an examination room trying to find the least unflattering sitting position.
Thankfully my fears are not realized as the doctor who eventually arrives is fully concerned with the state of my shoulder, not my waistline. I feel silly for worrying, but still, you better count on the fact that the urgency of obtaining a gym membership is at the top of my to do list. The prognosis of my shoulder becomes my main attention, leaving my future hours on the elliptical to be pondered over another time. Dr. Teo believes I may have chipped cartilage off of my shoulder which can only be fixed with scope surgery. I will be booked for an MRI and we will proceed from it's findings.
After covering my insecurities with my shirt again I make a quick exit into the slightly raining daylight. The remainder of the day contains viewing my first film photos in over a year, coffee coupled with conversation from friendly coffee shop employees wearing old navy officer caps, and the first listening of a new experimental classical album with a clever title while riding the bus home amidst the proletariat. The little joys that brighten the day despite insecurities.
I should have know to go get it checked out right away from my previous experience with my breaking my right knee cap. I'd been down this path before, but of course, my testosterone told me I would be fine and to not worry about it. I'll walk it off. So now it's a month later (better than the six months it took for my knee), and I'm spending a good chunk of my day in the waiting room at the Pan Am clinic.
I've been here before so I know the wait that is ahead of me. I brought a copy of CS Lewis's 'Voyage to Venus' but find it hard to concentrate due to the TV playing over my head and the growing impulse to peek over the top of the book and people watch. That guy right across from me looks like a mess with road rash on the side of his face and his arm cradled into his body. The twenty something possibly farmer, possibly construction worker in the corner has a cast peaking out from the sleeve of his mud encrusted jacket while the girl beside him reading some generic women's magazine has a tensor bandage wrapped around her knee. I start to analyze how I must look amidst such apparent injury. No abrasions, no bandages, I'm not even limping. I must look like some hypochondriac come to waste the doctors time. I feel inadequately injured amidst such bodily trauma. I should have faked a limp.
After what seems like the better part of the day watching the more deserving lead away to the doctor one by one, my name is called. "Just in here," she says, "and have your shirt off." There is no more self criticizing time than sitting in the doctors room looking at the lump of pasty white winter weight that has secured itself to my midriff. I'm here to get my shoulder checked out, but I fear the doctor might in the objective interest of my health say something or at least cast chastising glance. Anyone else, in any other situation has the obligation of social etiquette to not speak of it, but a doctor, no matter how low he makes your self-esteem must be thanked for his sage advice. There is no greater motivation to hit the gym than sitting in an examination room trying to find the least unflattering sitting position.
Thankfully my fears are not realized as the doctor who eventually arrives is fully concerned with the state of my shoulder, not my waistline. I feel silly for worrying, but still, you better count on the fact that the urgency of obtaining a gym membership is at the top of my to do list. The prognosis of my shoulder becomes my main attention, leaving my future hours on the elliptical to be pondered over another time. Dr. Teo believes I may have chipped cartilage off of my shoulder which can only be fixed with scope surgery. I will be booked for an MRI and we will proceed from it's findings.
After covering my insecurities with my shirt again I make a quick exit into the slightly raining daylight. The remainder of the day contains viewing my first film photos in over a year, coffee coupled with conversation from friendly coffee shop employees wearing old navy officer caps, and the first listening of a new experimental classical album with a clever title while riding the bus home amidst the proletariat. The little joys that brighten the day despite insecurities.
Friday, April 24, 2009
What you've dreamed of has become real
Why can't more commercials be this awesome. (This ones my favorite)
I love the Fleischer inspired animation, colour scheme, and the songs not bad either. Wouldn't be surprised to see this at next years Cannes Lions.
The others are good to.
I love the Fleischer inspired animation, colour scheme, and the songs not bad either. Wouldn't be surprised to see this at next years Cannes Lions.
The others are good to.
Saturday, April 11, 2009
Warp
The idea and practice of growth has been mental mantra since graduating in september. I fear/ed that without the pressure of assignments nor the doors and windows presented by the constant inflow of information, I would stall. I would become routine and bland, slowly erode adventure and spark into flab. Sometimes growth takes personal effort to create the situation, sometimes it is thrust upon you without option. And sometimes the opportunity is there but you need to step out of your comfort zone. Last week Junior Boys was in the city. I didn't end up going because I couldn't find anyone to go with me. It was just something I wasn't comfortable with. I felt kind of disappointed that I missed it. Then while dropping by my favorite coffee shop to work, Sara/h, (the girl who works there that I have sort of gotten on a first name basis with) said, "I'm really disappointed in you. I thought you would have just gone and let what happens happen." I realized that I was more upset that I wasn't confident enough to go to the show myself. Another situation presented itself for me to venture forth into the social jungles alone. This Friday I went to the Sebastien Grainger concert, alone. I've been to movies alone, eaten in restaurants alone, but never a concert alone. I had my ears completely blown out and enjoyed being, sitting alone sipping a sprite while waiting for the next set. Here's to stepping out and new experiences.
(this was written over a period of 5 or so sittings, so I'm not sure if the thought process followed. Busy Easter weekend.)
(this was written over a period of 5 or so sittings, so I'm not sure if the thought process followed. Busy Easter weekend.)
Thursday, April 9, 2009
American Wheeze
Any group that willingly or unconsciously side-steps creativity and human expression gives up their effective role in the society in which they live. In christian terms, their ability to be the salt of that society is greatly diminished. - Franky Schaeffer
Those who know me know how passionate I can get over the general North American Christian culture and it's lack of recognition of true artistic merit, and production of flat bland trinkets instead. Yesterday, while chatting with my father as we cooperatively scrounged through our kitchen for some savory late night bite of food he said something that surprised me. "I can't listen to CHVN. I don't like it," he said sincerely in a way I've come to realize I've adopted as my own, "the songs mean nothing. They have no meaning." I don't know why it surprised me so much. I know my father and what he chooses to listen to for music. I guess that it was that I had never heard him express distaste for certain music based on artistic merit. The same distaste that I had expressed myself so many times for the same reasons. He then continued talking about a musician named Evie that he had listened to from the 70s and how God had blessed her to be a song writer. I didn't hear all he said because I was so overwhelmed by the feelings of pride and connection. I am perhaps more my father's son than I realize.
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I repeat: art, creative human expression, and the enjoyment of beauty need no justification. The ultimate justification is that they come as a good and gracious gift from God above. - Franky Schaeffer
There is a longing within each one of our hearts. There is a longing. Listen to what DH Lawrence said, “ We want to delude ourselves that of the problem of our emptiness love is at the root. I want to say to you it isn’t. Love is only the branches, the root goes beyond love. A naked kind of isolation. An isolated me that does not meet and mingle and never can. It is true what I say. There is a beyond in you and a beyond in me which goes further than love. Beyond the scope of starts just as some stars are beyond the scope of our vision, so our own search goes on beyond the scope of love. And at least I think that it is at the root going beyond love itself.” Lawrence in one of the few occasions he writes is absolutely right here. It is not just love. I have a family that I love dearly. I cling to them past anything else that I possess. But there is a point at which you look for something more. You may be completely in love with another human being who fulfills the deepest desires of your heart except one desire that the human being cannot fulfill. There is always that haunting sense of emptiness that mankind cannot fill. Who put this there? This is an existential struggle. This is why I think the arts will always be so powerful in our existence, because the arts give us the privilege, as it were, of creating another reality. But it just assumes it is another reality. What it is is the reality in here. -Ravi Zacharias
In looking at the diversity of the Scripture in its content and form, one can hardly imagine that the Bible has anything to do with the present narrow theological sloganeering aspects of evangelical Chrisitianity. It seems to me that if the Bible had been written along the lines of what much of evangelical Chrisitanity represents today, instead of being the full comprehensive wonderful Book of diversity, beauty, knowledge, truth , wisdom, it would be a three-page pamphlet printed probably in words of one syllable, preferably on pink paper (because pink sells), possibly with a scratch and sniff section on the back to stimulate some spiritual experience while reading it. In contrast, the real Bible, the Word of God, is solid, human, verifiable, divine indeed. - Franky Schaeffer (zing)
something pretty for your eyes
Sisters - Kelly Vivanco
Those who know me know how passionate I can get over the general North American Christian culture and it's lack of recognition of true artistic merit, and production of flat bland trinkets instead. Yesterday, while chatting with my father as we cooperatively scrounged through our kitchen for some savory late night bite of food he said something that surprised me. "I can't listen to CHVN. I don't like it," he said sincerely in a way I've come to realize I've adopted as my own, "the songs mean nothing. They have no meaning." I don't know why it surprised me so much. I know my father and what he chooses to listen to for music. I guess that it was that I had never heard him express distaste for certain music based on artistic merit. The same distaste that I had expressed myself so many times for the same reasons. He then continued talking about a musician named Evie that he had listened to from the 70s and how God had blessed her to be a song writer. I didn't hear all he said because I was so overwhelmed by the feelings of pride and connection. I am perhaps more my father's son than I realize.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
I repeat: art, creative human expression, and the enjoyment of beauty need no justification. The ultimate justification is that they come as a good and gracious gift from God above. - Franky Schaeffer
There is a longing within each one of our hearts. There is a longing. Listen to what DH Lawrence said, “ We want to delude ourselves that of the problem of our emptiness love is at the root. I want to say to you it isn’t. Love is only the branches, the root goes beyond love. A naked kind of isolation. An isolated me that does not meet and mingle and never can. It is true what I say. There is a beyond in you and a beyond in me which goes further than love. Beyond the scope of starts just as some stars are beyond the scope of our vision, so our own search goes on beyond the scope of love. And at least I think that it is at the root going beyond love itself.” Lawrence in one of the few occasions he writes is absolutely right here. It is not just love. I have a family that I love dearly. I cling to them past anything else that I possess. But there is a point at which you look for something more. You may be completely in love with another human being who fulfills the deepest desires of your heart except one desire that the human being cannot fulfill. There is always that haunting sense of emptiness that mankind cannot fill. Who put this there? This is an existential struggle. This is why I think the arts will always be so powerful in our existence, because the arts give us the privilege, as it were, of creating another reality. But it just assumes it is another reality. What it is is the reality in here. -Ravi Zacharias
In looking at the diversity of the Scripture in its content and form, one can hardly imagine that the Bible has anything to do with the present narrow theological sloganeering aspects of evangelical Chrisitianity. It seems to me that if the Bible had been written along the lines of what much of evangelical Chrisitanity represents today, instead of being the full comprehensive wonderful Book of diversity, beauty, knowledge, truth , wisdom, it would be a three-page pamphlet printed probably in words of one syllable, preferably on pink paper (because pink sells), possibly with a scratch and sniff section on the back to stimulate some spiritual experience while reading it. In contrast, the real Bible, the Word of God, is solid, human, verifiable, divine indeed. - Franky Schaeffer (zing)
something pretty for your eyes
Sisters - Kelly Vivanco
Saturday, April 4, 2009
Wake Up Early
This is my favorite part of the week. Saturday afternoons after I finish my radio shift I slow down and breathe. I cook and eat a lunch of something from scratch and eat it while looking out our kitchen window onto what is right now our snow covered garden, while the sun pours back upon me. I then will often leisurely nurse the day's second cup of coffee as I follow whatever whim my heart chases (reading, crossword, blog scanning...). It is the most freedom filled moment of my week. The furthest possible moment from obligation and work.
It's not that I'm counting the minutes till I'm done at the station. I actually enjoy the experience and unique challenge of the job. I in fact gained a new appreciation for it this week. I realized while in the midst of a meeting this week that this is helping me be a better story teller. I can talk, I can B.S., but I need to better tame and train the beast. Containing eloquence, witt and entertainment in a coherent 45 second bite is a difficult task. I must plan my pronounced perceptions and pauses instead of allowing it to spill free form as I more often do. Perhaps this alchemy will produce a tongue of silver yet.
It's not that I'm counting the minutes till I'm done at the station. I actually enjoy the experience and unique challenge of the job. I in fact gained a new appreciation for it this week. I realized while in the midst of a meeting this week that this is helping me be a better story teller. I can talk, I can B.S., but I need to better tame and train the beast. Containing eloquence, witt and entertainment in a coherent 45 second bite is a difficult task. I must plan my pronounced perceptions and pauses instead of allowing it to spill free form as I more often do. Perhaps this alchemy will produce a tongue of silver yet.
Friday, April 3, 2009
I Am Hollywood
My first ever threadless tees came in. At $5 (well, before the exchange and then there's shipping) who could resist? A perfect addition to an already stellar day. Breakfast with Nikky, her boy Mike and Matt (sort of first meeting) at Stella's. Hanging out at the station and distracting people from work. Hanging out at the Cedarwood office distracting people from work. Hanging out at the new MCC coffee shop/used book store "Sam's Place" and purchasing some good reading material. All of this topped with lots and lots of good coffee. I'm just afraid that something is going to happen to balance everything.
Still all creased and crinkled from the package they came in.
Not a different shirt, but I like this one.
Still all creased and crinkled from the package they came in.
Not a different shirt, but I like this one.
One Day He Went Out for Milk and Never Came Home
Here is a glimpse at the aforementioned Moleskine notebook that I have been drawing in (not enough by my standards). It ends up holding a few thoughts besides the visual experimentation.
Our minds are anchored
to nature
to experience
to everything that has come before
but as spiritual creatures
we experience the unseen
immaterial and unknowable.
As experiencers of the spiritual
is our visual representations
flavoured by the unseen and unknown
spiritual realm?
on left page
Talks about the radio station, "christian" music, my reading of "Addicted to Mediocrity" and moments of overheard truth about art have concentrated my thoughts in this area lately. The above is where my mind ran to one day (most likely as I consumed mass amounts of caffeine spurring thought). Do we in some way see the unseen in art? I had another thought as I was shoveling snow today. Perhaps Christian art has generally been dumbed down to trinkets (as Des so well articulated for me yesterday) because art is viewed by the North Am Christian community as entertainment based instead of a medium of communication.
This is one piece in my Moleskine that I really like. I think Aaron called him Bubba. I'm finding I draw more cartoony pieces like Bubba here than anything realistic. I'm not very good at drawing realistic and find it intimidating to try, so I'm not very good at it. I wonder if I had some critical flaw might I be more "artistic". You hear of so many great artists creating amazing works as a result of wrestiling with their inner demons, their dark crippling past, etc. Maybe I should have a string of bad relationships or take to the bottle.
Wednesday, April 1, 2009
Meta
I decided that I wouldn't give the meaning of Akunon until someone asked. Yesterday someone did.
When I was starting this blog I knew that getting the right name would be important. It is the frame to everything you present within, it affects how you read the contents. It sets the boundaries. Originally I wanted to call it "Manalive" after the Chesterton book of the same name that affected me so much. It was however taken, not only on blogspot but every blog provider I checked. The name Akunon just popped into my head (well ok, there were a few variations thought out). Its a completely euphonic word with absolutely no meaning. I realized it was perfect. Having no meaning it could in fact mean anything and nothing at all in the same moment. Exactly how I saw my blog.
Saw this on FFFFOUND! Love it.
When I was starting this blog I knew that getting the right name would be important. It is the frame to everything you present within, it affects how you read the contents. It sets the boundaries. Originally I wanted to call it "Manalive" after the Chesterton book of the same name that affected me so much. It was however taken, not only on blogspot but every blog provider I checked. The name Akunon just popped into my head (well ok, there were a few variations thought out). Its a completely euphonic word with absolutely no meaning. I realized it was perfect. Having no meaning it could in fact mean anything and nothing at all in the same moment. Exactly how I saw my blog.
Saw this on FFFFOUND! Love it.
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