Hey! I’m trying.

I keep coming back and apologizing to my non existent audience about my lack of consistency but here we are.

I have a friend and long time fan of my YouTube work that keeps trying to inspire me to get back into content creation. It really made me reflect on why I stopped and here is my current conclusion:

I started off making short form YouTube content in 2007 and incidentally it was the type of low attention span junk food that is popular today. My intentions were always to create polished long form content like TV and Film but due to technological constraints; I created short videos packed with visual and auditory storytelling. The scope was also manageable with what I had–not only tech wise but also talent; my father.

It worked and it was also a big fuck you to the gatekeepers, that I was lead to believe existed due to my college experience studying comedy writing, that were preventing me from creating the high production–long form content I had desired.

As time passed by; everything changed incongruently for me. The format I pioneered in became the dominate–however, I wanted to move on and create the long form higher quality videos of my initial aspiration. It felt like starting over and it still wasn’t the right time for better gear to be available at a prosumer level. I fell into a cult of the technical wasting time learning about equipment instead of honing my storytelling skills with whatever I had at hand. My father and I also got older. We both lost the patience and joy of working together on our fun hobby. At the time, we didn’t realize my father had undiagnosed Parkinson’s disease.

Furthermore, my foray in education was a double-edged sword. I thought going back to school to study film would help me up the ante on the production side, meet potential collaborators, and have access to better resources. This was true in some sense but also lead to less time placed in honing my skills as a visual storytelling–the content I was producing for the school was bad journalism.

The stagnation in creativity contributed to my depression and frustration with a lack focus in my career. Also, a bunch of ill fated relationships added to the road bumps. When I finished school, I began teaching what I learned in school and cobbled together a decent academic career that in the back of my mind would fund my pursuit of my lost creative endeavours.

Then I was given an opportunity to create a documentary idea I had pitched to a coworker a decade ago. The idea was solid and involved my father but like I mentioned early my father and I changed. We weren’t the same as we were 10 years ago nor was our working relationship. Deep down I knew both of us didn’t have our hearts into it but I felt maybe this was my chance to start a directorial career that would give me access to create more of the long form content I always desired.

The experience was a disaster. Partly because of my father and I lack of interest and ultimately due to the timing of the pandemic. What was planned to be a long form documentary turned into a short YouTube video that took 3 years to create. I had hyped all my friends and family into believing this is the one…and it wasn’t.

It left a very bad taste in my mouth. I felt embarrassed and like I let everyone down. It further pushed my father and I apart. I wanted this to be the final project I did with my dad by ending it on a high note….instead it ended with cymbal crash.

I’m typing this as I am taking the train into Toronto to teach an introductory film studies class. I wonder if I will ever have the desire to create again. Will it be film? If it is, I would want to make something long form and take my time to polish it. Will it be a form of writing? Maybe it should start there. All I can say, I’m still batting away the funk of these experiences so that the joy in creating returns. I don’t want to force it because it doesn’t make me happy but I know it’s like getting back into a fitness routine: it sucks at the beginning but then you can’t live without it.

I hope I get there again.

Budgie Dream

I had a fucked up dream. I passed out after dinner. I dreamt there were two oversized budgies on the kitchen table. They seemed a little depressed so I started to make kissy noises at them. They then started to happily make budgie chirps back and then they began to make love like birds do.

I remember thinking that was a good thing until they started to drink water out of their bowl. One fell to the ground and seemed like it was dying. The other fell over in a fruit bowl on the table. I started to freak out and began to blow air on them. They then woke up as I started to awake from the dream.

Happy Valentine’s Day?

I decided to google a dream dictionary to decipher it and from my first search hit I got:

To see a parakeet in your dream suggests that a message is being conveyed to you. Perhaps, a message from your unconscious is being transmitted to your conscious mind.

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To see birds in your dream symbolize your goals, aspirations and hopes. To dream of chirping and/or flying birds represent joy, harmony, ecstasy, balance, and love. It denotes a sunny outlook in life. You are experiencing spiritual freedom and psychological liberation. It is almost as if a weight has been lifted off your shoulders.

Ok, that was definitely the first half of the dream. That’s positive.

To dream of dead or dying birds indicates disappointments. You will find yourself worrying over problems that are constantly on your mind.

Aw fuck. This sounds like it’s representing my last relationship. At the end of the dream I was trying to save the birds and I believe I did.

That’s pretty crazy and kinda true I guess. If you don’t mind; Internet, I’m going to post my dreams and analysis regularly. I don’t know how often I pass out and have vivid dreams but it’s worth journaling. God bless.

Losing Faith while Praying the Bad Men Away

You may lose me here but I used to have a strong relationship with “God” when I was a kid. My mother was very religious and together we would pray before I went to bed and when I would wake up everyday. The praying wasn’t like in the movies where kids would kneel by their beds and actually talk to god asking for something like writing to Santa. It was more of a mantra that would put me into a meditative state–sort of like a trance. I would do this ritualistic act twice a day and it would put my mind at ease. It would allow me to easily fall into a deep sleep and wake up refreshed in the morning.

I remember I was so good at getting into this meditative state that I believed I could go deep enough into this world that I would never come back. I firmly believed I could shut my brain off and die. Not in a scary suicidal sense but in a crazy metaphysical way. I also felt this childhood magic was beneficial to my well being as I was getting good grades and praise for my creativity. I was able to do anything because I could focus on the task at hand with the utmost clarity.

So what happened?

I entered high school and was bullied almost every single day. I would tell my mother about the bullies and her answer was to pray more. I then put it upon myself to wake up at 6 AM on school days and pray for hours to make the bullies stop. It was torture and I was miserable. I wont go into detail but they were picking on me because I was a visible minority. The bullying went on for a year and so did my praying. It wasn’t until the second year when it finally broke me and I lost my faith. I stopped praying and confronted the bullies. I sarcastically would play along with them to the point they would laugh at how ridiculous it was and the situation would diffuse. The evil smoke hole kids found a lot of respect for me. I had won and realized through humour I was accepted into every clique. I was the plainswalker. I then dominated my entire high school from starting as the outcast nerd to becoming the most popular kid.

So what happened?

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I was at my peak and done. Nothing made me happy. I had zero motivation to do anything. My mind was full of so many thoughts, doubts, and worries that I ruined my academic career. I was emotionally tired all the time and stopped showing up to class in my senior year when I was student council president. It was really bad and lead to an avalanche of poor choices.

Now I’m not saying I’ve become some sort of hippy dippy religious freak or anti drug lamer. I’m just saying balance is important and don’t knock meditation. I understand now what “prayer” is all about and why it worked for me. I hope I can do it again and it’s not too late to regain the power to focus on my dreams and achieve what I set out to do 20 years ago. And I’m not afraid to admit my mistakes, swallow my pride, and do the right thing for myself. I don’t care if I’m an old, bald, white whiskered Billy now. I’m still that kid from 20 years ago full of fire and hope. Something burning inside of me kept me young at heart, kept me from doing anything too stupid that would keep me from being here and typing this out to you. Now let’s stop being cheesy and do something with ourselves.

Say your prayers and go to sleep.

Late to the Banquet

I have been having vivid dreams lately and I think they may be a result of being sick and going through caffeine withdrawal. I rarely have dreams or at least dreams that I remember so I’m going to document them in this here journal. WELCOME TO MY DREAM JOURNAL DURRR

Blogging dreams! Hell, I’m going to make a new WordPress category for it. Too bad this dream constitutes a nightmare.

The way that this works is that it helps to destroy the enzyme brand viagra uk in a man’s body, which destroys cyclic guanosine mono phosphate. ED is one of the cheap cialis brand chronic condition faces by men. Some of the causes for low sperm motility, low semen load, low sperm count and order viagra levitra sexual weakness. In so doing, the penis is engorged cialis stores with system. Ok so the dream starts with me being pulled into a crowded banquet hall by my friends. It’s completely packed with everyone I have grown up, went to school, or worked with. Pretty much anyone I could consider a peer or younger that I have encountered in my life crammed in a banquet hall serving a buffet dinner. I get shoved a plate and am trying to get some food from the tables. Everyone is drunk and laughing at me while pushing me around. I lift the lid off every food warmer to find nothing is left. A server scrapes through some sauce at the bottom of a warmer and dumps some veggie bits into my plate as another server throws some left over pizza in an oven for me. The servers aren’t taking me too seriously as I clearly came late and missed dinner. They leave the pizza leftovers in the oven for too long and hand me back charred black slices. I end up throwing my plate in the garbage and that’s when everyone in the hall begins to laugh at me.

That’s when I wake up, say “fuck you, subconscious,” and make something to eat.