The Bold Creative Types

I have a few friends who are creative in different ways similar to myself but who really own the fact that they're a "creative type" and I'm constantly jealous of their bravery. Normally, I'm bold enough of a person to not really care if someone I cross paths with isn't a fan of me, but, admitting to others that you're one of those Arts-degree-holding, museum-loving, I write/sketch/paint/do stand-up comedy in my spare time type of individuals takes balls. Normally such a proclamation ends with a room of people staring at you like you're a chain pot-smoking, lazy, naked bongo playing hippie lacking any self-direction... so, basically, they look at you like you're Matthew McConaughey. Nobody wants to be seen as Matthew McConaughey (except him, perhaps).

I try to give myself credit for the things I have done, the chances I have taken, because there's a lot of them. I've always been the type of girl who told boys when I liked them, I was in plays in High School, on the Improv team in University, auditioned to get into Ryerson's Acting program, I have a YouTube channel and I dance like an idiot and don't care who sees. All of these traits have really helped me enjoy my life thus far, but I wish I sort of owned who I was even more. One of my creative friends recently printed off a bunch of his short stories into a self-made book, set up a card table at the University we both attended and attempted to sell them. While I don't normally care what people think of me or if people approve of me, that right there is something I can not ever see myself doing. You sit there at your table, and people pass by, seeing you as the vulnerable raw nerve that you are, a "struggling artist" and it's easy for them to make snap judgements about you which are often wrong. You're lazy, didn't go to school, anyone can write (a laughable claim), and that really starts to get to me. Make judgements about me or don't like me? Fine. Make judgements about what I do, my interests, and what I potentially want to dedicate my life to? That hurts. If you see me as less legitimate than someone in a suit and tie because I'm fairly certain a desk job lifestyle isn't for me it's not my issue, it's yours, but, in the moment, I lose my perspective and wonder what's wrong with me. I need outward gratification for my decisions and the direction of my life more than I should, more than I want to.

Shane Koyczan is one of those people who owns what he does, owns that he's a writer/poet/spoken artist to such a level that it makes me feel like I can't write at all in comparison. The topics he writes about always hit such a humane cord and his words are always so polished and well-spoken that it gives me shivers. I've already listened to this particular piece three times today and it reminds me to be bolder, own who I am more, and get out there. As Shane himself says, "... failure was never nearly as important as the fact that we tried".

Personal fav lines: "Six feet above the underground where we will all one day rest. So remember every instance before death. Every first kiss, first dance, near miss, last chance, yes, no, maybe so."

"Let us live like we meant it. Let us burn like we mean it. Because this world doesn't give a shit if we end in a train wreck or a car crash. If our story ends with a dot or a dash. If we were dust or ash."

Trust me... watch it.

Applying For Jobs In A Nutshell

Good grief.

I'm So Proud of You I Could Throw Up

Have you ever experienced that horribly complicated feeling when you're super proud of someone close to you's accomplishments, yet, at the same time, their new-found successes just serve to make you feel shitty about your current lack of impressiveness? Well, I do, and it sucks.

It especially sucks if the timing couldn't be any worse. Just like how the doorbell always seems to ring incessantly when you just sat down to take a shit and then realized that you're out of toilet paper halfway through and family and/or guests are over, so you can't just do the bunched-up-pants-at-the-ankles shuffle of shame or the half naked walk to your toilet paper stash... calls from loved ones to excitedly tell you their most recent triumphs and tales of awesomeness similarly always seem to come right when you're contemplating eating that questionable expired yogurt in your fridge because that's become a thrill in your life. Look at you, you dangerous risk-taker. Your life is so fast-paced. "No, don't do that!", others might say, "It's risky! You might get sick!". "Life is risky!" you'll reply boldly with a look of steely conviction as you guzzle down the strawberry banana treat which is long past its prime. "It's delicious and I regret nothing". 

Today I wasn't contemplating eating questionable yogurt, but, I've been very down on myself and feeling unimpressive for a number of months. Today I told myself to nut up. I got up early and had a nice breakfast. I had a nice, long, hot shower, which, as always, if you're down, makes you feel part of the land of the living again. I made a "To Do" list and told myself I would actually complete everything on it this time, no exceptions. I was sketching out my rough draft of an essay for a writing contest a company is having where I could potentially win a job with them for a year. I was feeling good about having bathed and having eaten a healthy well-balanced meal when I received the call of significance. Don't get me wrong, the person in question, my boyfriend, very much deserves their success and I couldn't be happier for him. He's worked hard to get where he currently is and I chatted with him for about twenty minutes about all the variations of awesome he is and how sunshine-y and great everything is looking for him... and yet... I hang up the phone and my stomach feels like I just swallowed a bag of flour. It's crazy to think about how much a short phone call can make you look at things differently. I glanced down at my chicken scratch notes of an essay on my desk, the same ones that just moments before made me feel pride and happiness that I was being productive with something, and now they enraged me; felt pathetic. Like I was chasing after something that is a long shot to begin with and feebishly trying to climb Mount Everest in flip flops.

Hallmark greeting cards should really capitalize on this particular situation, this horrible mishmash of emotions. "Congratulations!" the card would say on the outside in colourful pretty script and then on the inside, "I hate you, you happy fuck face".

I know it's unhealthy to make social comparisons too frequently between yourself and peers, but I'm a flawed human being and it's one of my unhealthy habits. I think I'm allowed one as I don't smoke or anything, but, this habit of mine still causes a sort of cancer to spread throughout my mind. It's hard to not reflect on yourself and your own efforts and hard work throughout the years while you congratulate someone else and tell them they deserve the fruit of their labours (because they do), but, so do you. Where the heck is your golden ticket to the chocolate factory? Did it get lost in the mail? Is it even coming?

I'm already dreading Christmas. Christmas and Thanksgiving are the fucking worst days of the year for people in not the best stages of their life. Thanksgiving isn't a problem for me as I have a small family and we don't all get together for Turkey Day, but on Jesus's birthday we do. Standing next to someone who has a lot of interesting answers to the question, "So, how have things been for you? What's new?" when you don't yourself really hurts the ego. I rather stand next to a super model and have a whole room verbally compare our attractiveness levels loudly and harshly than stand next to someone who has a life worth bragging about. It's like a newbie stand up comedian who's going on stage for the first time, palms almost too sweaty to hold the microphone in their grasp, being told to follow up Louie CK... it's not likely to go well for the newbie. "Then my boyfriend told me he got an Internship at one of Ottawa's biggest and best Museums and I said back to him, "That's great! If you need me I'll be over here in my sweat pants eating cookie dough from the tube listening to Enya songs on a continuous loop and crying." *Silence from the crowd* "Is this thing on?" 

I think we all tell ourselves the yellow brick roads we're merrily skipping down are leading to sparkling Emerald Cities, as, well, the alternative is depressing and enough to make you want to eat more expired yogurt. It's a lot easier going down your winding roads though when you feel you have others to link arms with while you skip. Dorothy had the Tin Man, Scarecrow and Lion, and, well, I'm not really sure who I have left to travel with. Sure, I have friends, people I can vent to on occasion, and I'm very thankful for that, but, sometimes it feels nicer to talk to people with the same issues as yours whom you feel you can relate to and more and more peers of mine are starting to enter their Cities of success while I'm still stuck back in the twister in Kansas.

It all reminds me of one of my favourite movie quotes, a conversation between Alice and the Cheshire Cat in "Alice in Wonderland".

Alice: "I was just wondering if you could help me find my way."
Cheshire Cat: "Well, that depends on where you want to go."
Alice: "Oh, it really doesn't matter, as long as...."
Cheshire Cat: "Then it really doesn't matter which way you go."

Maybe that fictional Acid trip Cat is right. It doesn't matter which way I go.

Excuse me, I'm off to eat some magic cakes, drink some magic potions and have an adventure.