on feelings and other tangled illusions

I was reading this article today, which finally.. finally.. after 3 long months, made me want to write.

In a nutshell, Khalid Hosseini (an author who really moved me with his words) explains that even he, a man who sold 38 million copies of his books, has limitations in truly expressing the written word. One of his favourite passages are from one of Stephen King's novels:

"The most important things are the hardest to say. They are the things you get ashamed of, because words diminish them - words shrink things that seemed limitless when they were in your head to no more than living size when they're brought out. But it's more than that, isn't it? The most important things lie too close to wherever your secret heart is buried, like landmarks to a treasure your enemy would love to steal away."

Now, I'm not a writer, and nor do I think I can sell 38 million copies.. (wellll, never say never..), but I kinda get what he's saying. 

My lack of desire to write, or to take photographs lately, stems from the same desire (.. or lack of it)... of just trying to figure it all out.

I feel like I've been in this stage forever. When I used to write, I was lost, helpless, but.. happy, and chugging through life with my myriads of adventures. Now that I take photos, I feel like I'm in the same conundrum, still trying to figure out what this is all about. Except now I think a lot more.

I miss doing stupid things. I still remember the thrill from jumping from a mini cliff into the warm waters of the Ottawa River when I went whitewater rafting (i can't swim to save my life). I miss just picking up the phone and calling your crush and asking him out for a movie date. I miss the thrill of being a blissful idiot, a title I was truly proud of being, as in the example when I walked into a laser eye clinic one day to get my eyes fixed without any research or fear, all by myself.  

If you ever want to know the meaning of life - my answer to truly living a selfless, happy life - start looking at the world with child-like eyes. And instead of looking at the memories gone by as days you can never get back, start looking at them as lessons.

I love being a child. I know I am truly blessed that people even mistake me for a young adult! I do wish though, that my immaturity would take precedence on melancholic days when I feel like I am better off living in a desolate island away from all human life.

I attract the best kind when I am deliriously happy for no reason. My art makes me happy. And, like everything else in life, when you are truly truly happy, you attract someone who can't wait to be around you. 

And therein lies the crux of the problem, because like everything in life, they never stay. I used to think this was just a temporary state of being, but now I am starting to realize that maybe it's just my fate. Maybe this is how it's supposed to be.

So sometimes all the hurt can really take its toll. You can only write so much, until the cup runneth over. You can only make images so much, until you feel you have to start putting on a filter so people don't think there is something wrong with you. And it's not even past stories or broken dreams that dwarf your visions. The fact of the matter is, you find yourself completely broken. And when you are broken, you are unable to make solid dreams. 

So you put on a filter. You stop talking about it. You catch yourself when you are about to say something. You limit your interactions with certain people. This becomes a catch 22, as people can only give what you give back. You start to understand what being an island is all about. The hurt seems less deep, because there is no one to penetrate that hurt in your litte island. And no, there's no boat. You start enjoying it. 

And then one day you wake up, and you realize, you are alone.  

Yes, everyone loves you. But, you are .. alone, which, I think, is the biggest fear that human beings may face. Let's face it, no one wants to be alone. It's like dying while you're still alive.  It is human nature to be with someone, even for a little while. 

Which brings us to the second conundrum. I'm not even sure I want to be with someone anymore. Ever.

It's not that I am hurting, or jaded, or bitter, or tired. After all that I have been through, I think.... it's enough.  A union or commitment is a beautiful thought. It keeps you warm. But, maybe it is for.. other people. Those that understand one other. Those that are not selfish. Those that are willing to fight for each other.  Those that love. I have a whole lot of love to give. But, maybe I'm meant to do that sporadically, for short bouts of time. Maybe it's not them anymore. Maybe its just me.

I've been having this constant battle for the last little while. As I get older, I am told that I need to find someone, because as a woman I cannot possibly stay single for the rest of my life. But the more I am away from it all, the more I realize that maybe this is what makes me happy. Because being happy equals to less hurt. And I'll take less hurt any day.

And I'm fine with this. I'm happy (Mom, I hope you're listening :D so please stop worrying!)  

This picture took me a while to make. I feel like with my never-ending zest for life, I'm always getting attached to 'something', but the 'something's' always unattainable, or the 'something' was a figment of my imagination, or the 'something' just wasn't meant for me in the first place.

At the same time, I wonder if maybe I should stop getting myself tangled up in all this mess. Except lately, I don't even wonder anymore. I just think, nah. I just want to live a happy and simple life.

It's a constant battle.  

It's unfortunate that it had to even come to a "battle". Maybe I am better off seeing things as a child when it's less complicated and everything is beautiful and innocent.

marriage of tangled illusions

As per the Stephen King quote, the most important things lie too close to wherever your secret heart is buried, like landmarks to a treasure your enemy would love to steal away. 

I guess this is how I'd explain my lack of activity - my thoughts are all I have, and I just don't feel like disclosing the landmarks to my treasury. Except, at the same time, as an artist, that is really all you have and that you must express. And if you cannot display that, it would be tantamount to calling yourself a fraud. Hence, this inner conflict have given rise to this series entitled, "the battle with id".

an attempt at a paranoid dancer's soul

sometimes with all the curveballs that life throws you, you wonder how is it that you’re supposed to go anywhere that resembles a straight and narrow path.

i’ve been so busy with my commercial shoots lately that i’ve had no time to do what i love – conceiving and executing my own ideas for photography. i have been so antsy and restless.  on top of that, i got bogged down with a nasty flu the size of texas, and i just couldn’t get myself to do anything besides sleep whenever the time allowed, followed by a general disinterest in anything remotely creative.

and then, suddenly, it was like the angels started to sing. a sign.

Got called to do a simple photoshoot with lots of motion, for a creative head of music and fashion.

Patrik is the Artistic Director for Armani/Prive, and if you’ve heard or seen his work, you’d be a little overwhelmed too. It’s just so refreshing to meet more creative juices in Dubai, I feel like we are so short of it here.

I checked out Patrik’s website (www.paranoiddancer.com) and I realized I could do so much more with this man’s creative vision. A simple photoshoot of fashion or motion would just be such a waste.

I wanted to show this man, and what he was, in all his glory! I had one week. Oh boy.

So my stylist and I put our heads together, and from our conversations with Patrik, we decided we wanted to do some environmental portraiture with him – but something to squash all the stereotypes about him, and at the same time exhibit some portraiture to show what he is all about – a man whose head is constantly brimming with funky ideas with music, fashion, perspectives, thoughts… oh and the icing on the cake – he writes so eloquently. There is nothing more sexy than a man who knows how to express his thoughts in such a fluid manner.

We told our ideas to Patrik, and he was game for anything. This is what a dream subject is all about – when they go over and beyond what you ask of them.

So we came up with these sets of images:

the most ridiculous sin of them all

I’m talking about jealousy, of course.

I just ran across someone who I hadn’t seen in ages. And by ages, I mean ages of the eons-ago, spanning transatlantic ocean when I was still in Toronto and we somehow knew each other in the fair maiden city of Toronto.

After swapping stories for a bit in the middle of the traffic, we decided to grab a coffee somewhere. I don’t drink coffee, so what ended up happening was we ended up swapping a lot more stories than I had bargained for.

In all of this, my friend claimed, and kept on repeating, how said friend was jealous of me.

And I don’t mean in a ‘omg, you’re crazy, that’s amazing! I am so jealous of you!”  I mean, in a “oh. that must be nice. living life like a princess and taking off whenever you feel like. jealous! not of all us have such luck. I’m so jealous! I want your life, you little brat!”

Yep.

Yuck. Ugh. I paused for a bit when I heard this bit. and then I pushed the idea out of my head that had been brewing in my mind since I ran into this person: I would not be taking down this person’s number and inviting them over for dinner any time soon.

I don’t usually know how to feel when someone claims they are ‘jealous’ of me. To me, it means they want your life. You have it great, and they want what you have. Never mind the fact that it never occurs to them how or why you are living the life you have. For all they know, this perfect life that you are living just landed in your lap one day from the sky, and lo and behold, you get to live it like the spoilt, undeserving brat that you are.

Really? Me, perfect? Really, my life, perfect? Really, you would love to be basking in my perfect little experiences that are proof of my perfect little existence?

Fine.

Go on, be jealous of my perfect failed relationship that traumatized me like a child. Feel free to give your heart to someone who tells you he wishes you were never born. Enjoy the sensation of mind-numbing fear when you were having lucid dreams of being pushed and yelled and emotional blackmailed and screamed at for not being the perfect person he had envisioned you to be. Live a charmed life where everyone was happy for you and your loved ones, only to live in glorified shame where everyone is wondering where it all went. Go on, give up a job, be shameful and be embarrassed when you realized you had nothing and you have to ask again like a child. Hide from your friends and spend that time making up stories in your head about what would be the next grand excuse you can tell them now.

Go on, have my perfect little life where you could have boxed it all in 2 suitcases. You didn’t need a home anyways. Feel satisfied knowing that someone chose another home and another person, over useless little you.

Go on, have a perfect little life where your only companion at night was your tears-strained pillow.

Go on, have the perfect little life where your friends thought all you did was take photos all day and all night, so you couldn’t possibly be invited to hang out during special holidays with them.

Go on, have the perfect little life, where you must be sitting on a treasure trove of money, and not endless hours with 4-hour sleep days and trying to educate yourself on how to be better at your job.

Go on, have the perfect litte life where you look at yourself in the mirror every morning, and hate the body that stares back at you, because it could never possibly attract all the wonderful, educated, thoughtful people who seem to be interested in every other person/friend/living thing around you, except you… and so when you look at yourself in the mirror every night before you snuggle up to your side of the giant queen-size bed, you get the chance to hate the body even more.

Go on, have the perfect little life where people you have helped before they were in relationships now do not talk to you anymore, because they are in relationships.

Go on, have the perfect life where jeans are always much too tight (again), where bank accounts never seem to get past that minimum monthly level, where people just never seem to revert back to you when they promised they would, where people just think of you as someone to hang out during the daytimes and not on weekends, where you seem to be perpetually alone even when you travel to the most crowded places on earth, where shirts with bursting front buttons are the bane of your existence and never seem to make it to professional client meetings, where not even ridiculously stupid heels are not enough to overshadow the leggy models that the guy you are crushing on seems drawn to, where the people you promised yourself you would not allow to walk all over you trods all over you again, where you have been so hurt so many times by so many people that you have stopped asking the Big Guy for help at all because you know it doesn’t matter anymore.

Is this the perfect life that they are really jealous of?

I’d love to see them handle it with the charm and grace that I am constantly struggling to.

Once upon a time, I used to be hurt if someone claimed they were jealous. Because clearly, they were not happy for me. I am a ditz indeed, I am happy for other people’s successes, why couldn’t others be happy for mine? It didn’t make sense. It should be a positive result, not a sad consequence. It usually meant I couldn’t talk to them in the same way anymore. I am in no way a success story. I am a broken story. I am a never-ending result of perseverance, will power, and enduring obstacles. Sometimes I overcome them, sometimes I fail them with glorified level of epicness. I keep facing challenges daily, and I will do so for a long time. EVERY DAY. There are so many “wtf am I going to do now” in my head that I am running out of vocabulary. But it’s ok. I just need to deal with it. I don’t have a choice, its.. just life. It’s what I choose to do, when I am confronted with it. And sometimes, sometimes in that rare lucky moment, when I have confronted a challenge, and I have done it successfully, I feel accomplished. And when I feel accomplished, I feel successful. And when I feel successful, I feel happy. And when I feel happy…. well, I am over the moon. It shows everywhere.

And then, somehow, that makes me into a person that you are not happy for?

I don’t get that.

But I’m through that now. Now, I don’t care anymore if people are jealous. It’s their problem, it is how they choose to handle a conflict in their mind. I wish though, that instead of being jealous of someone, they would use the opportunity to learn from it, and inspire themselves with it. It’s just a more realistic solution.

I love my perfect little life. Its a contradictory little life, but it is all mine, and I wouldn’t swap it now. It made me.

If you are really jealous of me, it means you want to be like me. Good lord! Do you understand what this means?

And if you want to be like me (its such a bad idea!), do what I do. When I see someone who has done something nice and living a good life, I become really curious and I decide that I need to figure out what they’re doing right. I decide that if I want something I’ve never had, I need to do something I’ve never done before. So I become happy for them, then I decide I want to be their friend (and not an enemy!), and then I want to learn from them, and finally I want to be inspired from them.

So instead of taking the easy way out, and just being “jealous” of someone, do something you’d never done before: be happy for them. Learn to be like them.

It’s worked wonders for me.