one man show

so tonight i went to a one man show at the cinema.

when roger mentioned a few months back that he was going to hire out the theatre for the night and put on a one man show i thought he was joking. lo and behold, i was wrong.

named 'where's the fat guy?' the premise was a motivational evening from a guy who (after losing 133lbs later on in life) knows how hard it is to change a lifestyle for the better in a lighthearted humourous way. an extention of sorts of the usual talks he gives as a weight watcher leader several times a week.

being that he's a pretty good auritor, i knew it would be worth the go see. lo an behold, i was right.

a fun filled evening was had by all. i did the photography thing (as per usual) for the duration so got a good view of a fairly filled theatre who, laughed (and cried a little) ultimately leaving motivated for whatever, be that weightloss or otherwise.

i have so much respect for roger. he has faith (in more than just god) and isn't afraid to take a crazy step every-so-often, despite the potential for failure. more often than not, some really cool stuff happens as a result.

thoughts

A friend of mine sent me an email today and in it was the line:
“We don’t know where we’re going, but we’re on our way”

Two weeks today I'll be leaving here to go back to Scotland. I'm in the process of job hunting (fun in this economy) and have no clue what I'm going to do when I'm back there.

I have a couple of exhibitions coming up in the next few months, a bunch of weddings to attend, and friends to catch up with (including a couple of new arrivals that I'm very excited to meet). Other than that, I'm clueless. Although completely open to anything as a result.

There's one thing for sure, the person who's going back is not quite the one who left. The last six months have given the opportunity to step back a bit from the life I was leading, take note of the things that matter, and be slightly more objective about what I want.

One of my pet peeves is an idea that gets thrown around a lot at the moment - 'I need to take time out to find myself.'

I think what people really mean is that the concrete comfortable mold that they had put themselves in has been shaken and they want to try and re-build it. The idea that we belong in measurable molds is one that is, in my opinion flawed. An idea stemming back to Plato(amongst others) and his quest for rationalisation of existence that inevitably lead to the compartmentalising of the functions of society, creating the idea that 'identity' is something that can be defined and held onto. In my opinion (and I'm sure many would disagree with me) identity is a far more holistic thing, as simultaneously fluid and solid as the elements that make up our world around us and our perception thereof.

I don't think we can ever 'find' ourselves because we were never lost. We just are. In a continual state of change (although sometimes more obvious than others) depending on the things around us by which we measure ourselves against. (ie he's short, therefore, I am tall. to put it simply.)

All of this, of course is just conjecture, but it's mine nonetheless. Perhaps however, we forget to breathe. We forget to pause and reflect, steaming on through all the changes, regardless of the affect they are having on you, leaving you a little confused as to how you reached the point you got to.

This is where I was when I got here. Not lost. Just in need of a reminder to breathe.

The people I have met here have taught me to breathe. Not so much by looking at myself, but by helping those around me who need to breathe more than i do. They taught through the lives they lead; selfless and caring, looking at the bigger picture that keeps on painting, despite us.

I'm in no rush to leave these people, but unfortunately have little say in the matter at the moment. And onto what, I have no idea.
But I'm on my way.

it's all cricket to me

every week, on the way home from the soup kitchen, the conversion of choice in the car generally revolves around cricket. despite growing up with a dad that loved the sport, i never got it. it is, however, a good opportunity to admire the view out the window.

yesterday, however, the tables were turned a little. a couple of students from the new york film academy were out for the weekend and, since they arrived just before we headed out to see the guys, they came with us. we got talking and i ended up having a discussion about installation art, turned out that the girl who found it's relation to reality and perception in modern culture just as fascinating as i do. everyone else in the car however, was lost at the word installation.

normally i probably would have toned down the conversation so as to not let others feel left out, however, it's the first time in ages that i've met someone who knows what installation art is, never mind having an opinion on it. so i didn't care. and had the first conversation about art that i've had in a long time that i could really get my teeth into. i loved it.

to err is human, to err on the side of caution is often, un-necessary.

i need a job

today i've been wondering about tea. (amongst other things)

it was late this afternoon after a morning out with the girls from the pantry (getting into trouble for lack of risk in clothing choices) and i was chilling out with a cup of tea at the kitchen table.

big mug. mid strength. no milk. no sugar.

daydreaming into the cup, watching it cool, it reflected the light from the ceiling fan. like a water reflection? not quite. was it water anymore? or was the water to the tea what oxygen is to water?

once the molecules attach themselves to the point where they can't be detached without changing the status of the water, by evaporation or some other process, does that change the thing? or is it just the thing + tea?

im not sure how long i pondered all the arguments for either side to myself, but by the time i'd done staring at it, tilting it, examining the steam, my tea was a little cold.

but this got me thinking. do external factors in life, whose influence or affect cannot be extracted without changing your status of existence, by death or some other process, does that change who we are? does it make us us + said external factor or affect?

some things can change the way you interact with the world, like a change in cultural perspective. but what about the littler things? an interaction with a shop assistant? an incidental email from a friend? an accidental half hour extra in bed? do these things brew in us as much as the things dunked in a bag? or do they attach themselves as separate entities that we have a certain control over; the option to discard?

i think tea might be a very underrated thing. it's essentially three basic elements combined (a mug. a tea bag. some water.) but its apparent simplicity is hiding an underlying cornucopia of complicated relationships that you could spend a lifetime contemplating.

a lifetime purpose as valid as that spent inspecting the wonder of belly buttons.

quiet pantry

this morning the food pantry was freezing. (i'm still trying to warm up)

it wasn't so much the heat as it was the lack of people. there must have only been around twenty families served thismorning which meant that we weren't running around like normal, keeping ourselves warmed up.

i don't know where they've gone. perhaps the holidays brought stuff in for some of them, either way. to be honest i think it was a good thing this week as supplies were very low.

afterwards i went out for lunch and a yap with a couple of the girls i've got to know really well over the last few months. apart from some mild lets-set-becky-up style scheming (i've learned to ignore it, but i felt sorry for the poor waiter) we had a really good time. i love them a lot and it was great to hang out somewhere other than the food pantry.

the thing is that there aren't that many people out there who get that it's not something you have to do, it's something that you want to do. it could just as easily be one of us who needs the help. so it's really nice sometimes to just chill out (talking nothing of sense or depth) with some folks that know where you're coming from.

the day i couldn't use a camera

sometimes photos are for keeping hold of things we want to remember.
people, places, laminated, sealed, held in place for later reminiscence.

i took a lot of photos in new orleans, there was so much to take in that i used photography as a tool to aid in processing what i was seeing. for the most part, due to disbelief.

but it's a funny thing. the one part that i didn't photograph is the part that sealed itself most in my memory. (i was told i'd be attacked for it so i thought it best to listen)

it was a thursday evening when we went to visit 'the wall'. the sun had set as we drew up to a dark gravel car park, flanked along one side by a large wall.

at first we thought we must be early, nobody was there. but as our eyes adjusted we began to notice a dark mass moving a little way along. approaching the mass gained definition, revealing hundreds of homeless people gathered around a small band of people serving hot meals.

i was a little scared, i think we all were, the sheer number of people surrounding us was forboding. but we were there to help so we shook off the intimidation and got on with it.

i joined in with the group of serving people, handing out bottles of water to folks to give me time to take in what i was seeing. as i watched and talked to people a sudden realisation took me aback.

the people in the queues could have been my friends. one; the image of an old friend from school; another; my brother.
some were younger than me but most were about the same age.
all misfits looking for their place.

the homeless folks i see regularly are predominantly middle aged, drawing comparisons with parents or grandparents. but it's very different when you can completely empathise with.

one girl in particular i'll never forget.

i left the servers and (with a friend) went to sit with a girl i'd noticed in the line, thin, made seventeen, on the muddy gravel by the wall, she sat. i sat with her and we just chatted for a while.

the conversation doesn't matter, but it will stick with me for my lifetime. her face, i didn't photograph, but it told a thousand stories, burned into my memory, is what i see when i think of that evening. the girl who i knew, but didn't.

her leaving words were 'keep spreading the love.'

all i did was talk to her, gave her a little hug, but to her it meant much more.

photography is a great tool for recording things, but the experience of life is often far more powerful than the capturing of it.

for that there is no justice a camera can do.

The Wall

sees of faces
somewhere, mass along
wet muck, gravel

deep water churning torrents
drowning in getting closer
sees of faces

feet keep walking blind
into the heart they go
watching muck and gravel

lines and faces
forming, merging watching waves
outlines now surround us

see the faces
one, another
line up one, back up the next

dark I watch
see the faces
i've known your face

I know your face
wade into shallows
kneel in the dirt

sees faces
holding shadows
waiting silhouettes

waves in currents
all along
the wall

happy new year

so last night i went to a hogmany (new years eve in these parts) party with some friends.

it was a little quieter than in past years, a few families getting together for a suburban soirie.

it was good fun, the people were lovely and it was nice to have a more civilised hogmany.

(maybe it was just that i had a weird family, but i did find it a little strange that the kids and adults were in seperate rooms for the duration)

so happy new year!

(i'd say i hope this one's slightly more sane, after the rollercoaster that was last year, but then where would be the fun in that?! yes there were mental lows but there were also some pretty funky highs! therein lies the amazingness of life)

new years resolution: use parenthesis less