Cinema
Good evening! Good morning! Good afternoon! Goodnight! Well whatever time of the day that you find yourself reading this blog post at, welcome to my thoughts and this somewhat organized mess that I like to call my writing.
It's been a very long time since I have posted a genuine reflection on this blog but I owe it to myself to acknowledge all of the things I've gone through during the past few months. It's been tough, but I am still here! I hope I am able to impart something meaningful to you but just in case I don't, I appreciate you for taking the time to read what I have to share.
When I go to work, I have an absurd amount of time to think and simply be in my head. Unlike my past jobs at a sushi restaurant (for 2 weeks LOL) and A&W, where it seemed like I could never catch my breath; my job at Kumon has been the complete opposite. All I am tasked to do is sit down, mark worksheets, and help a few kids with their oral reading skills. It's been a fruitful experience so far and it's truly a blessing to no longer have that sense of dread on days that I have to work. It's fair to say that the money I earn is simply a bonus, what really matters is the experience and the new environment that I find myself growing within.
However, it wasn't so easy in the beginning during the months of October and November.
I had been going through a few rough patches, particularly with confusing relationships, increased schoolwork and difficulty serving the youth. During this time, I simply did not know who I was.
I'd be sitting down at my desk during work and ask myself questions such as, "Why am I studying at this university when I spend 4 hours of my day sitting on transit?" or, "Why aren't I good enough for this person? What am I doing wrong?"
These fears and insecurities plagued my mind, making those shifts at work feel like days on end. As you may have already noticed if you've read past posts, I am the type of person who lives within his head. I spend my time replaying memories and trying to recall feelings from the past, a place that seemed so secure and bright; only to be replaced by the dull present moment that I had found myself in.
So after finishing all of my final exams (barely passing my Psychology course), I was blessed to travel to the Philippines with my family for a whole month. I thought, "Great! I get to leave behind my problems here in Canada and won't worry about them again until I get back on the 10th." The plan seemed foolproof, my mindset was incredibly optimistic.
Long story short, I went to the Philippines, shot a bunch of film rolls, caught 6 fishes, rode a motorcycle, ate like a king everyday, showered with a tabo every other morning, and finally found a sense of peace and identity. I had found my roots.
But I wouldn't be in the Philippines forever.
Eventually, the 10th of January came, and I found myself in British Columbia once again. (And it started snowing just after I landed, wonderful!)
Home sweet home. Free internet, showers with hot water, public toilets with paper towels, layering weather, Tim Horton's, my friends and my Canadian family. It was good to be back.
Yet the problems I left were still here. I still found myself pondering over past friendships I was so desperately clinging to, worrying about the upcoming semester, and struggling to find the will for service once again.
If I wrote that there was a single day that completely changed my fortunes and situation, I would be lying.
The reality is, I grew tired of expecting, exhausted of doubting, and just plain done with this lack of belief that things wouldn't turn out okay.
So I started writing. I began crafting and composing short stories that I vowed I would keep to myself. (A promise that I still intend to keep) There's something precious about writing from the core of one's self, a fragility that I discovered once I began writing these tales not for others to see but just for me to recognize my significance in this world that tries so hard to make one feel so small. And with each page written at home, at Tim Horton's on 156th, at the AMS Nest, I slowly but surely found my direction once again.
I realized that there is no substitute for experience.
Every notion of love, wether it be in victory or in heartbreak plays a crucial role in the development of one's character. A person molded by their experiences, not crushed by them.
These stories of mine were tiny fragments of my heart that spilled unto a blank canvas and painted a scene of pure love, pure honesty. That plain piece of paper became a universe that I fashioned into galaxies of love at first sight, and heartache of a love abandoned.
Back in December, I had proposed a project to a few friends that centred around a novel that was fully composed of original written work by me.
I wrote these stories and they're sitting in my notebook right now but somewhere along the process, I found myself dissatisfied by the idea - I desired something else, something greater.
And so recently, I've begun the very-very early stages of a short film production based on one of those stories; a piece of cinema that I hope to share with you all before the year is over.
Now you're probably asking yourself, how did a boy who was completely lost in life just a few months ago suddenly find the inspiration to embark on one of the most difficult artistic endeavours any person could ever achieve?
It began day by day.
It started with waking up and going to school on mornings when I just wanted to stay in bed all day,
when I chose to stay home with family dinner rather than going out with my friends,
when I walked with my head up and not staring down at the laces of my shoes,
when I answered questions in my discussion sections even though I knew nobody in that class,
when I finally found the courage to talk to the girl who I'd been too scared to talk to last semester,
when I wrote my first story,
a story that began with one paragraph, one sentence, one word.
Pick up the pen that you've been so scared to hold, even if your hands may shake, your body trembles under the fear and doubt; pick it up. It's been waiting for you.
The world around you awaits your art.
A blank canvas eager to be filled by what you are, and what you have to offer.
Let us begin.
AMDG
It's been a very long time since I have posted a genuine reflection on this blog but I owe it to myself to acknowledge all of the things I've gone through during the past few months. It's been tough, but I am still here! I hope I am able to impart something meaningful to you but just in case I don't, I appreciate you for taking the time to read what I have to share.
When I go to work, I have an absurd amount of time to think and simply be in my head. Unlike my past jobs at a sushi restaurant (for 2 weeks LOL) and A&W, where it seemed like I could never catch my breath; my job at Kumon has been the complete opposite. All I am tasked to do is sit down, mark worksheets, and help a few kids with their oral reading skills. It's been a fruitful experience so far and it's truly a blessing to no longer have that sense of dread on days that I have to work. It's fair to say that the money I earn is simply a bonus, what really matters is the experience and the new environment that I find myself growing within.
However, it wasn't so easy in the beginning during the months of October and November.
I had been going through a few rough patches, particularly with confusing relationships, increased schoolwork and difficulty serving the youth. During this time, I simply did not know who I was.
I'd be sitting down at my desk during work and ask myself questions such as, "Why am I studying at this university when I spend 4 hours of my day sitting on transit?" or, "Why aren't I good enough for this person? What am I doing wrong?"
These fears and insecurities plagued my mind, making those shifts at work feel like days on end. As you may have already noticed if you've read past posts, I am the type of person who lives within his head. I spend my time replaying memories and trying to recall feelings from the past, a place that seemed so secure and bright; only to be replaced by the dull present moment that I had found myself in.
So after finishing all of my final exams (barely passing my Psychology course), I was blessed to travel to the Philippines with my family for a whole month. I thought, "Great! I get to leave behind my problems here in Canada and won't worry about them again until I get back on the 10th." The plan seemed foolproof, my mindset was incredibly optimistic.
Long story short, I went to the Philippines, shot a bunch of film rolls, caught 6 fishes, rode a motorcycle, ate like a king everyday, showered with a tabo every other morning, and finally found a sense of peace and identity. I had found my roots.
But I wouldn't be in the Philippines forever.
Eventually, the 10th of January came, and I found myself in British Columbia once again. (And it started snowing just after I landed, wonderful!)
Home sweet home. Free internet, showers with hot water, public toilets with paper towels, layering weather, Tim Horton's, my friends and my Canadian family. It was good to be back.
Yet the problems I left were still here. I still found myself pondering over past friendships I was so desperately clinging to, worrying about the upcoming semester, and struggling to find the will for service once again.If I wrote that there was a single day that completely changed my fortunes and situation, I would be lying.
The reality is, I grew tired of expecting, exhausted of doubting, and just plain done with this lack of belief that things wouldn't turn out okay.
So I started writing. I began crafting and composing short stories that I vowed I would keep to myself. (A promise that I still intend to keep) There's something precious about writing from the core of one's self, a fragility that I discovered once I began writing these tales not for others to see but just for me to recognize my significance in this world that tries so hard to make one feel so small. And with each page written at home, at Tim Horton's on 156th, at the AMS Nest, I slowly but surely found my direction once again.
I realized that there is no substitute for experience.
Every notion of love, wether it be in victory or in heartbreak plays a crucial role in the development of one's character. A person molded by their experiences, not crushed by them.
These stories of mine were tiny fragments of my heart that spilled unto a blank canvas and painted a scene of pure love, pure honesty. That plain piece of paper became a universe that I fashioned into galaxies of love at first sight, and heartache of a love abandoned.
Back in December, I had proposed a project to a few friends that centred around a novel that was fully composed of original written work by me.
I wrote these stories and they're sitting in my notebook right now but somewhere along the process, I found myself dissatisfied by the idea - I desired something else, something greater.
And so recently, I've begun the very-very early stages of a short film production based on one of those stories; a piece of cinema that I hope to share with you all before the year is over.
Now you're probably asking yourself, how did a boy who was completely lost in life just a few months ago suddenly find the inspiration to embark on one of the most difficult artistic endeavours any person could ever achieve?
It began day by day.
It started with waking up and going to school on mornings when I just wanted to stay in bed all day,
when I chose to stay home with family dinner rather than going out with my friends,
when I walked with my head up and not staring down at the laces of my shoes,
when I answered questions in my discussion sections even though I knew nobody in that class,
when I finally found the courage to talk to the girl who I'd been too scared to talk to last semester,
when I wrote my first story,
a story that began with one paragraph, one sentence, one word.
Pick up the pen that you've been so scared to hold, even if your hands may shake, your body trembles under the fear and doubt; pick it up. It's been waiting for you.
The world around you awaits your art.
A blank canvas eager to be filled by what you are, and what you have to offer.
Let us begin.
AMDG
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