While I’m carried by some invisible force the last part of the journey I try to think about what I was doing before I woke up but I can’t remember what it is was. I can’t remember where I was going or where I came from. I’ve been reborn ignorant of my purpose. I can barely feel my body but there is wind at my back. I wish I was lying in the dust, fixed into that purple sky. A place full of stars and circling lights, a sun that never seems to set, but is always hidden behind some dark silhouette.
Twelve-thousand and twenty-two... and the freezing winds are gone. I’m stagnant in the cave, my vision not registering, a violent sweat and wretch, then blackness. And I’m never going to wake up again.
In another lifetime I did wake up though. I found myself cradled to a wall, eyes uncertain and timid. Vulnerable in the reflections of a cracked murky puddle, I could just barely turn to rest against the wall. Sliding down its grimy surface, a burden of my own body I gave into the view of an orbiting light, the same as before and for now my only memory of anything at all.
Positioned as I was, I noticed something in the shade of the unnatural lighting. What appeared to be fungus covered the floor and invaded almost half of the entrances eternal shadows. Parched and afraid of the water the fungus seemed an impassable option. In slow motion, an unfocused parcel crossing a channel of space, I found myself with it in hand.
I can safely sit in the shadows of the cave’s mouth and embrace that swollen brown sun; there is no direct light, merely a hint and a tinge of its youthful past. It only offers an unpleasant glow that makes stomach acid rise into my throat. It is for these reasons that I try to avoid it at all costs. I feel displaced; a voyeur, watching myself struggle in vain from somewhere far away. There’s something all together unwholesome about where I now find myself. In the wake of logic I find myself a shivering beacon of self-abuse. I’m scared and broken, there is no path laid out before me and I have little to reassure myself that anything will ever be right or normal again.
I’ve been here for less than two weeks from what I can recall. Fungal spores have been my nourishment. Since arriving some time ago, I have settled into this place I find myself. In a coma, broken by the euphoria of a full stomach, the dust in the not-quite-still air holds a motion and grace of something that gnaws my memories but cannot be placed (Constellations). I feel a quiet rage overcoming me and I find myself again succumbing to a vile influx of acid. Straining and sore I find myself outside, bent over in the sunlight that never seems to rest. Combating my demise I crawled back to the forest of darkness and solitude. Nearly delirious, I feel the fungus spreading its’ roots in the core of my system. A host of healing properties I would never have considered or hoped for. I feel stronger every day I rest here.
More and more a singularity is forming inside me. I can feel a pulse and see the sparkle of recollection. In a place that seems removed from the very fabrics, I see a farm that breathes and flows. It is a blur which focuses itself and dims again. I can remember nothing more, that has been over a course of, what I can fathom, nearly a week. It’s impossible to tell.
Friday, July 16, 2010
Reflection
Since January, I have absorbed more information than the three previous years. Coming into the program I was quite possibly the least likely candidate. I didn’t finish culinary management due to a back injury and luckily realised that hospitality was not right either. All I knew was that I wanted something that let me interact with people. I wanted a life that I could do something I thought was impossible; actually pursuing my passions.
Since then, the courses that seemed so intimidating in the first few weeks have transformed into a much more rewarding, enthralling experience. I believe that Copy Editing alone improved my writing more than any amount of classes I thought possible. Realizing that there was an entire world open to me, challenging me to use my writing, I was more excited than ever before.
Throughout the year there have definitely been some difficult periods, but the overall experience is always rewarding. Persevering with Public Relations will be the best decision I’ve ever made.
Even though it’s harder than anything I’ve been a part of before, never once did I have the desire to stop. Every project, assignment and challenge has been a hurdle to test me. The classes themselves have been my favourite part of the program. As much as I enjoyed the networking, students and facilities, the overall highlight for me was the classes.
Though I feel the overall flow of the assignments throughout the year is in serious need of revision, those 16 classes will stay with me for the rest of my life. The experience that I am walking away with is the something I feel very privileged to have. I am 21 years old, with little to know experience in the industry. All I want to do in my life is write and enjoy it.
That is impractical though. So, the next closest thing I could hope to do is improve a company, a person, a movie. I can use my writing for more things than I’d ever considered in December.
This course has been a stepping stone, a turning point and an epiphany that I have been searching for since the world opened its doors, stepping out of highschool five years ago.
Since then, the courses that seemed so intimidating in the first few weeks have transformed into a much more rewarding, enthralling experience. I believe that Copy Editing alone improved my writing more than any amount of classes I thought possible. Realizing that there was an entire world open to me, challenging me to use my writing, I was more excited than ever before.
Throughout the year there have definitely been some difficult periods, but the overall experience is always rewarding. Persevering with Public Relations will be the best decision I’ve ever made.
Even though it’s harder than anything I’ve been a part of before, never once did I have the desire to stop. Every project, assignment and challenge has been a hurdle to test me. The classes themselves have been my favourite part of the program. As much as I enjoyed the networking, students and facilities, the overall highlight for me was the classes.
Though I feel the overall flow of the assignments throughout the year is in serious need of revision, those 16 classes will stay with me for the rest of my life. The experience that I am walking away with is the something I feel very privileged to have. I am 21 years old, with little to know experience in the industry. All I want to do in my life is write and enjoy it.
That is impractical though. So, the next closest thing I could hope to do is improve a company, a person, a movie. I can use my writing for more things than I’d ever considered in December.
This course has been a stepping stone, a turning point and an epiphany that I have been searching for since the world opened its doors, stepping out of highschool five years ago.
Sunday, June 27, 2010
Every Devil
Why I would still work for British Petroleum
-And Supporting The Toronto Police-
People have a lot of difference reasons they end up where they are. Family, location, pay, challenges, ethics, morals and rewards are all factors that play out their roles in our lives. Finding our place in the work world is not always about finding the perfect job. Sometimes it means deciding what we can offer and ignore. I can offer you honest insightful work. I possess creative drive and an unprecedented focus. I can offer you three things: My maturing skills, my loyalty and the pliable mind of youth.
I see conceding ethics in a positive light. It’s not about giving up something you believe in. It can be about the pursuit of new knowledge and procedure; a view from the other side. You can be an honest caring person and still lie through your teeth about the benefits or risks involved with X. You can do whatever you want, and the secret to living with it is by making those skills part of your arsenal, not part of your nature.
The way I see it, helping British Petroleum improve their image would be a monumental task, a chore which I would take on whole-heartedly. A failure like this could happen to anyone, it just happened to be BP. It’s happened to others before. And I would have worked for them too, all of them.
Enron, Exxon-valdez, AIG, Goldman Sachs, Bernard Madoff, all of them. You know why? Because they handled themselves incredibly poorly. When a company is in a haemorrhaging state like that they need all the good help they can get and they’re willing to pay the big money for it. With some camera time I’d even like to represent these companies in front of their enemies.
But let’s talk about Toronto for a moment. This city is not a “police state” and it never will be. Activism is one thing and I give props to all of you U of T and Montreal students with your ironic protests. Down with American Apparel! You fucking idiots. I used to be in a lifestyle where I didn’t really like the police. I would not show them my ID if they asked me during some random day. But during an international event like this? What are you so afraid of? Why do people get so self-assured at the chance to “voice their rights”. I have rights too but I’ll be damned if you catch me anywhere near downtown Toronto and you know why? Because the police are trying really hard to do their fucking jobs, so why would assholes like me and you want to go down and make it worse?
I stand by the boys in blue. I would say they should be more aggressive if anything. But hey, I’d like to thank for Toronto for the recent media coverage. You’d think this was Tiananmen Square if you’d never been here before.
To recap, every devil needs a smiling face.
-Kade
-And Supporting The Toronto Police-
People have a lot of difference reasons they end up where they are. Family, location, pay, challenges, ethics, morals and rewards are all factors that play out their roles in our lives. Finding our place in the work world is not always about finding the perfect job. Sometimes it means deciding what we can offer and ignore. I can offer you honest insightful work. I possess creative drive and an unprecedented focus. I can offer you three things: My maturing skills, my loyalty and the pliable mind of youth.
I see conceding ethics in a positive light. It’s not about giving up something you believe in. It can be about the pursuit of new knowledge and procedure; a view from the other side. You can be an honest caring person and still lie through your teeth about the benefits or risks involved with X. You can do whatever you want, and the secret to living with it is by making those skills part of your arsenal, not part of your nature.
The way I see it, helping British Petroleum improve their image would be a monumental task, a chore which I would take on whole-heartedly. A failure like this could happen to anyone, it just happened to be BP. It’s happened to others before. And I would have worked for them too, all of them.
Enron, Exxon-valdez, AIG, Goldman Sachs, Bernard Madoff, all of them. You know why? Because they handled themselves incredibly poorly. When a company is in a haemorrhaging state like that they need all the good help they can get and they’re willing to pay the big money for it. With some camera time I’d even like to represent these companies in front of their enemies.
But let’s talk about Toronto for a moment. This city is not a “police state” and it never will be. Activism is one thing and I give props to all of you U of T and Montreal students with your ironic protests. Down with American Apparel! You fucking idiots. I used to be in a lifestyle where I didn’t really like the police. I would not show them my ID if they asked me during some random day. But during an international event like this? What are you so afraid of? Why do people get so self-assured at the chance to “voice their rights”. I have rights too but I’ll be damned if you catch me anywhere near downtown Toronto and you know why? Because the police are trying really hard to do their fucking jobs, so why would assholes like me and you want to go down and make it worse?
I stand by the boys in blue. I would say they should be more aggressive if anything. But hey, I’d like to thank for Toronto for the recent media coverage. You’d think this was Tiananmen Square if you’d never been here before.
To recap, every devil needs a smiling face.
-Kade
Monday, June 21, 2010
Redundant Music
So this weekend my girlfriend and I went to my parents place. My brother is getting married in August and his fiancée had her wedding-shower on Saturday. It was an awesome weekend all around, I spent the day on Saturday then with friends from years gone by and the rest of the weekend with my girlfriend and family on the lake. But, I got a call on Sunday from a friend on the other side of the country that sent me into a self-analysis of missed opportunities and alternate possibilities.
My friend that called me, well let’s just say he’s A+. This kid does digital recording and audio wizardry the likes of few others. In our separate lives in Peterborough we devoured our ideal cultures. In a bender of self-depravation we sold our souls for more music. Condensing just below the surface was a raw energy waiting for a vessel. When he called me I realized that if things had been different, I’d never have had to write this blog, I never would have met any of you that are reading this and I would be rolling around behind a gigantic switchboard.
That`s Recording Arts Canada, it`s on Peter St. in Toronto.
It`s a gorgeous building with a program unrivalled by nearly anyone in North America.
It was my buddy that had graduated from there that convinced me to explore the opportunity.
This is a brief overview from the RAC site.
``At RAC, creativity is fostered through inspiration, skilled guidance, and world-class facilities. RAC's staff and faculty include top, award-winning industry pros. Our programs of study are designed with the help of the leading technology companies, industry professionals, and artists in music, sound and digital imaging.``
I did not care if the music industry had died, I wanted to do what I loved no matter what.
!!!BAM!!!$14 000!!!BAM!!!
Wow, for tuition for 9 months not including any other expense, how could I go wrong?
Then no more than a week later I got a cheque from WSIB for $13 500.
I was torn between two worlds.
Do I go to school and not have any money to do anything with or do I consider my life first. I love my girlfriend with all of my heart, we`re sick of the city we`re in and we want to do something different.
So I start to weigh the pros and cons and everything in between. And I come up with an answer.
I`m not going to go to RAC now or ever. I`m going to look at some other choices and in the mean time I`m going to play my fucking music like I paid fourteen thousand dollars to do so.
And that`s exactly what I did until a few months ago.
Now my strings are warped and rusty, my beast a dusty wreck and all of my trinkets and equipment has been forgotten.
Music has taken me on a roller-coaster and I feel that I owe it to myself to bring it back into the forefront of my life. When I`m done what I am doing and I find the time for myself I will play again.
-kade
My friend that called me, well let’s just say he’s A+. This kid does digital recording and audio wizardry the likes of few others. In our separate lives in Peterborough we devoured our ideal cultures. In a bender of self-depravation we sold our souls for more music. Condensing just below the surface was a raw energy waiting for a vessel. When he called me I realized that if things had been different, I’d never have had to write this blog, I never would have met any of you that are reading this and I would be rolling around behind a gigantic switchboard.
That`s Recording Arts Canada, it`s on Peter St. in Toronto.
It`s a gorgeous building with a program unrivalled by nearly anyone in North America.
It was my buddy that had graduated from there that convinced me to explore the opportunity.
This is a brief overview from the RAC site.
``At RAC, creativity is fostered through inspiration, skilled guidance, and world-class facilities. RAC's staff and faculty include top, award-winning industry pros. Our programs of study are designed with the help of the leading technology companies, industry professionals, and artists in music, sound and digital imaging.``
I did not care if the music industry had died, I wanted to do what I loved no matter what.
!!!BAM!!!$14 000!!!BAM!!!
Wow, for tuition for 9 months not including any other expense, how could I go wrong?
Then no more than a week later I got a cheque from WSIB for $13 500.
I was torn between two worlds.
Do I go to school and not have any money to do anything with or do I consider my life first. I love my girlfriend with all of my heart, we`re sick of the city we`re in and we want to do something different.
So I start to weigh the pros and cons and everything in between. And I come up with an answer.
I`m not going to go to RAC now or ever. I`m going to look at some other choices and in the mean time I`m going to play my fucking music like I paid fourteen thousand dollars to do so.
And that`s exactly what I did until a few months ago.
Now my strings are warped and rusty, my beast a dusty wreck and all of my trinkets and equipment has been forgotten.
Music has taken me on a roller-coaster and I feel that I owe it to myself to bring it back into the forefront of my life. When I`m done what I am doing and I find the time for myself I will play again.
-kade
Thursday, June 3, 2010
Shallow Like A Valley
So I guess this is my second post. There’s a lot of stuff I skip or forget to tell people just because it seems irrelevant to me. Times and places and things that have been important to me just seem to fade out. My passions and aspirations blink from my mind when I’m talking to someone. Where I want to be and what has gotten me where I am are two questions that I rarely want to tackle.
I blame it on a lot of things.
At this point I would like to stress that I jump around a fair bit.
When I talk about “loving” or “enjoying” music and writing I don’t mean it in a figurative way. Writing and listening to certain genres or albums leave me with an explicit feeling of self-fulfilment. Enveloping yourself in a melody or passage is a feeling that social interaction cannot touch. Now, that’s not to say I’m socially-handicapped or agoraphobic. All it means is that when I have the time to read, write or listen to music I do it; with fervour.
So yeah, I blame my lack of personal discussion on a lot of things. One is the deep love and inspiration from the arts that I find hard to express with my words. Why would I bother when I could care less what you are going to tell me? I mean honestly, your opinion will not hinder my judgement. (I feel that this very statement warrants an entire post)
Another thing I blame is this self-inflicted act of becoming so fucking jaded. The internet has destroyed my brain and corrupted more or less all of my faith in both the individual and the group. News from around the world exposing you to circumstances you could never conjure can be too much sometimes. Aside from the real world trauma and duress there is the seedy underbelly of the world wide web.
“What the hell is wrong with me?” is something that I think quite often when trolling Digg or Cracked. The level of emotion that I feel reading true accounts of war-stories or under-publicized statistics baffles me. The real stories are the ones that get swept underneath a carpet of pre-teen madonnas, celebrity sex-addiction and god-damn Twilight.
Guh-faw. I’ve also come to realize it’s better to stop a rant before it can fully materialize.
Until next time...
-Kade
-30-
I blame it on a lot of things.
At this point I would like to stress that I jump around a fair bit.
When I talk about “loving” or “enjoying” music and writing I don’t mean it in a figurative way. Writing and listening to certain genres or albums leave me with an explicit feeling of self-fulfilment. Enveloping yourself in a melody or passage is a feeling that social interaction cannot touch. Now, that’s not to say I’m socially-handicapped or agoraphobic. All it means is that when I have the time to read, write or listen to music I do it; with fervour.
So yeah, I blame my lack of personal discussion on a lot of things. One is the deep love and inspiration from the arts that I find hard to express with my words. Why would I bother when I could care less what you are going to tell me? I mean honestly, your opinion will not hinder my judgement. (I feel that this very statement warrants an entire post)
Another thing I blame is this self-inflicted act of becoming so fucking jaded. The internet has destroyed my brain and corrupted more or less all of my faith in both the individual and the group. News from around the world exposing you to circumstances you could never conjure can be too much sometimes. Aside from the real world trauma and duress there is the seedy underbelly of the world wide web.
“What the hell is wrong with me?” is something that I think quite often when trolling Digg or Cracked. The level of emotion that I feel reading true accounts of war-stories or under-publicized statistics baffles me. The real stories are the ones that get swept underneath a carpet of pre-teen madonnas, celebrity sex-addiction and god-damn Twilight.
Guh-faw. I’ve also come to realize it’s better to stop a rant before it can fully materialize.
Until next time...
-Kade
-30-
Thursday, May 20, 2010
One jug of Wine; first excerpt
Change is good. Change is always good. Music is the pursuit of my life; it blossomed in me when I was younger. It happened when my town still had kids that cared about their culture, not the drugs. The drugs scared all the good kids and the artists away. Or they fed off them. Because it is naive to think that it’s any different than that. Even still, I have friends with some beautiful voices. I could get lost in their words. Sometimes when I listen to music something deep inside engages me. It’s visceral, and I love it.
I’ve got friends and they say I have talent. I try to give them love because they tell me I have an honest face. But it gets hard. People get pulled so many different ways; jumping from one town to another, laying down roots just to rip them back out, meeting friends just to find new strangers, leaving people just to find more questions. It’s all a blur. Life was cumbersome, a heavy cloud, thick around my head. The only thing that brought clarity was running.
Sometimes that's a good choice though. We won't always have time to enjoy what we love. And if ever get the chance to find myself somewhere else exotic like that one timeless summer; Alive in the bliss of my distortion and just whatever was running through me, I will be complete, because for those two four months I truly did not care.
That was just the beginning.
I’ve got friends and they say I have talent. I try to give them love because they tell me I have an honest face. But it gets hard. People get pulled so many different ways; jumping from one town to another, laying down roots just to rip them back out, meeting friends just to find new strangers, leaving people just to find more questions. It’s all a blur. Life was cumbersome, a heavy cloud, thick around my head. The only thing that brought clarity was running.
Sometimes that's a good choice though. We won't always have time to enjoy what we love. And if ever get the chance to find myself somewhere else exotic like that one timeless summer; Alive in the bliss of my distortion and just whatever was running through me, I will be complete, because for those two four months I truly did not care.
That was just the beginning.
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