2011 fades away, and what a year it was. I’m going to be breaking this into multiple posts. A couple that are my year mostly in numbers, like books, movies, travel, etc. The other mostly made up of intangibles, life, love, lessons, and the like. This will be one of the former. I tend to document and record lots of data as kind of a side function of my everyday goings on. It’s not that I’m particularly stat focused or live life by numbers, but I like to keep track of where I go, how I got there, how much I did. It’s pretty easy to do now-a-days, especially since a lot of record keeping is automated. All you have to do is know where to look for the data. For example, I can look at my Verizon Wireless account and see that I spent 3289 minutes [52.4 hours / 2.18 days] talking on my phone this year. That doesn’t include Google Voice, GMail, or Skype calls, so the total is probably a bit higher. A more impressive number is texts. 20,608 from my phone and another 15,223 from Google Voice, for a total of 35,831 text messages. So, all the info is out there, it just needs to be added up.
So, where were we? I’m more of a “spur of the moment” or “stream of consciousness” writer, so there’s a lot to keep track of in recap style posts. When I first started writing this (Pt. 1), I was on my way to Syracuse, NY from Santa Cruz, CA to visit a dear friend. It was going to be some quiet time to get some work done, relax, and get organized a bit. I’m picking this post back up at Pt. 2, sitting 17 stories above Atlantic Center in Brooklyn, NY, after a snowstorm caused power outages that are preventing me from heading to Boston, MA sitting in a Starbucks in Atlantic Center in Brooklyn, NY. I’ve been talking to people about heading to LA. Work may be taking me back to Seattle. I have some plans for this upcoming New Year… but I’m getting ahead of myself.
Monument Valley, Utah
This was an unexpected side strip. It was 10:30AM, I had just finished breakfast, and I was getting ready to settle in and knock out some writing and photography work. I had a lot to get done, a lot in my notorious backlog, and was looking forward to a down day after the drive from Yermo, CA to Holbrook, AZ. I had just opened my laptop when I got a cuff on the arm followed by “Grab your gear, you’re already holding us up.” I had no idea what was going on and that frustrated me a bit. I don’t hold people up, I don’t waste time. Anyway. I wasn’t even in clean clothes, but I figured we couldn’t be going too far. I grabbed my basic photo gear; my 10-22mm, 28mm, 50mm, 70-200mm (I knew Barry would have his 24-70mm and 14mm fisheye, among others), tripod, remote trigger, etc. I suppose at any point I could have asked where we were going, but by this point frustration had begun to creep in and I started not to really care.
If you’ve never driven to Monument Valley, UT from Holbrook, AZ, it’s about a three and half hour drive across the desert and wastelands. Now, that’s totally fine under normal circumstances, but these weren’t quite. As far as I knew, we had no supplies (I’ve been stuck in the desert before with no water. It is not fun.) and no plans to get any. That is an easily fixable situation though, so long as there are places to stop along the way (there were). What was not fixable, was being in the confines of a pickup truck cab (the truck is actually really comfortable) with no escape from the endless onslaught of cigarette smoke. If you’ve read the first part of this story, you know my stance on the whole thing. No need to rehash it here. I probably breathed in more carbon monoxide than oxygen on that ride. I didn’t do much to alleviate my mood. Luckily though, I was about to get a chance to purge that with more fresh air than any person could ever breathe.
Now, as I’ve said before, I’m not really a landscape guy. I can appreciate the majesty of nature, beautiful sweeping vistas, the glory of nature, etc. but there have been very few times in my life when I’ve been truly awestruck by the beauty of nature. One was the first time I drove clear across the state of Texas. I didn’t understand the meaning of “Big Sky Country” until that moment. Another was much more recent, but it’s the fishtail end of this story, so remember these few sentences, I’m going to reference them later. Anyway, we got to Monument Valley and were immediately met with a view of “The Mittens”. If you’ve ever seen the classic John Wayne western, Stagecoach, then you know what I’m talking about. If you haven’t, and were born around the same time I was, then you’d probably recognize the view from Airwolf (although in the show it was called “Valley of the Gods”), since that’s where Hawke and Dom’s secret base was.
Random Aside: Airwolf.
Anyway. The view didn’t really blow me away but then again, I’m not big on the average views of things. I don’t like taking photos of things anyone else can take a photograph of (this is why I like photographing people), static things. I prefer to find a different view, a different perspective, if possible. Fortunately this is exactly what Barry had in mind. Twenty minutes later I would find myself in the back of an off-road rigged Jeep Wrangler, firm grip in the “oh shit” handles, bouncing across the valley floor.
This is where it all started to become worth the trip out there. The views from the valley floor, the far outlaying corners, the vast open expanses of nothingness; this was truly breathtaking. I’ve mentioned in the past that I love the desert. It’s clean to me. It’s dry and barren and simple. It burns away everything except the core of a being and even then, if you can’t adapt, it will burn that away too. I jumped out of the Jeep deep into the valley and just walked alone for a while. I explored by myself, able to see the valley how I wanted, able to experience the vast nothingness alone, and able to photograph what I wanted to. There is beauty, to me, in that kind of desolation. Being able to see into infinity in every direction and not see another living soul. I’m sure there is a metaphor in here for how I was feeling at the time (and, to a point, still do), but it doesn’t really matter. I didn’t really want to leave. I could have wandered into that desolation without any care for being found. Then I remembered that I’m still planning to visit Mt. Everest, so no disappearing into the wilds until that is off my list.
ANYWAY. It was a pretty amazing experience. I took a lot of deep breathes, did my best to purge my poor lungs, knowing that there was still the ride home ahead of me. That went about as well as the trip there, though I was in a slightly better mood. Back in Holbrook meant dinner and attempted sleep before pushing through to Albuquerque, NM the next morning.
And that concludes the side trips. Remember, I’m still on the road at this point. Living out of the same suitcase that carried me through Paris.
Albuquerque, NM. I’d been here plenty of times in the past, on tour, but nothing particularly memorable stuck out. We arrived on Thursday; Stephen would be arriving from Santa Cruz and meeting up with us on Friday. We took a look at the convention space, got parking settled for the RV, and finally got checked into a hotel, which was a simple luxury at this point (the last hotel I’d stayed in was all the way back in Seattle, the night before I left for Olympia, and it was terrible). I was able to unpack a little, air out my clothes, take a hot shower, and get caught up a little on photos, which by this point had been stacking up considerably. Apparently the place to eat in ABQ is Rudy’s BBQ, so that was the next stop (we would visit more than once on this trip, thus would begin the Banana Pudding Saga).
This would also begin my early morning Friday quest to get my new business cards from the USPS, who are probably the most infuriatingly inept organization run by actual nice people. The short story is that they decided to not deliver my cards to the hotel because… I dunno. It’s a hotel? That doesn’t make sense to me. All I know was that I was tracking the delivery status like Prince Humperdinck following a falcon on a cloudy day and one minute it was “Out for delivery” and the next it was “Undeliverable: Return to sender”. Not even an option to redeliver, I mean, seriously? I was 25 yards from the hotel front desk. By that time it was close to 5:00PM, which means I was SoL. I called, got run around, and decided that the best way to get my cards (which I needed for the show the next day) was to go to the post office first thing in the morning and try and intercept them before they got shipped back. This would lead to a 6 mile walk across Albuquerque, 2 different post offices, some incredibly helpful USPS personnel, and eventually getting my cards. They were printed by MOO.com and they are beautiful. Not how I was hoping to spend what would have otherwise my first morning to sleep late in weeks, but it had to be done. Mission: Complete.
Rock The Ink 2011
My next goal for that Friday was to build as much of the Anatometal booth as possible before Stephen arrived. This was old hat for me and building a single booth was pretty low key compared to some of the elaborate events I’ve produced in the past. I had a basic grasp of the booth from the tear-down in Vegas, so I managed to get about 75% of the structures up before Stephen waltzed in (Hi Steve!).
The show itself was… a show. This was much more of an “everybody knows each other” style show than Las Vegas, more of a family and/or community feel. I was introduced to lots of great folks, all very “friends of the family” style. I became a sort of unofficial official photographer (something to note for later) which was interesting to me because I was still a sort of “outsider” in this whole thing. It was also interesting to observe because even though this event has happened for a few years now, it did not seem particularly well organized.
DISCLAIMER: I’m not saying that to be mean, it’s just an observation from someone (hint: me) who has professionally produced special events for a long time.
The people I talked to did mention some issues that had arisen just before the event started, like a major venue change, but there were some location independent aspects, like social media and photography coordination, that could have been handled better than they were. It’s not the fault of any single person, but general production planning and event execution. On the upside of that is it’s easy for me to see where those gaps are and with a little planning assistance, the next show can be off the charts. So yeah, shot a lot of photos, met a lot of amazing people. I certainly look forward to being involved with Rock The Ink in the future. I suppose we’ll see.
The Road Back
So, with RtI 2011 behind us, it was back to Santa Cruz. The ride back was pretty much the ride there in reverse, with less side trips. We were on a schedule, so there wasn’t a lot of dilly-dallying to be had.
All The Damn Vampires
During my time in ABQ I’d made plans to head to Syracuse, NY via Boston, MA depending on how travel back to SC panned out. I ended up driving back to SC with Barry in the RV, which was a similar enough to the trip down that it doesn’t require great explanation, so I’d be flying straight to Syracuse through NYC. Before that though, I was going to have another one of those breathtaking landscape moments.
I really only had a handful of hours in Santa Cruz before heading to San Jose Airport to catch the red eye to Syracuse, via NYC. Luckily we arrived just before Golden Hour so, aside from a few errands, I was able to head directly to the coast to shoot the sunset. Barry knew a couple of spots that were just spectacular.
I watched a beautiful sunset on the coast, then to dinner with the Santa Cruz folks. It was a beautiful way to wrap up my time on the west coast. After dinner I was off to San Jose airport to catch the red eye to Syracuse, NY after a layover in New York City. I’ve been hesitant to return to the east coast given the time of year. The weather in the north east has a way of trapping people here and that was the last thing I wanted. I boarded my flight and tried to get some sleep.
And I feel that time’s a wasted go
So where ya going to tomorrow?
And I see that these are lies to come
Would you even care?
This is going to be a long one. I’m really far behind on a lot of things simply due to the craziness of my recent travel and shooting schedule. So, if you’re content to read it all in one go, grab a cup of coffee, a snack, and let’s get caught up. I’ll wait.
Good to go? Alrighty then.
Mario Barth’s “Biggest Tattoo Show on Earth”
AKA: Amazing People, Terrible Lighting.
This actually happened about three weeks ago, which is crazy to think about since it seems like I was just there. I was invited down to the Mario Barth’s Biggest Tattoo Show On Earth by my best friend, Stephen, who was working at the show with the company he works for, Anatometal. His boss, and owner of Anatometal, Barry Blanchard, is a bit of a photog, so the offer was extended to come down and shoot for the show. It wasn’t an actual paid gig beyond what I can license out, but it was worth it for the people I met and the shooting I was able to do. I had a lot of exclusive access to show happenings, so that was a good time. I shot thousands of photos and I’m still trying to process the backlog of them all. The odds of anything significant coming out of them are low, but it did lead to some other opportunities and potential work.
I’ve been disconnected from the body modification scene for a while. I first got pierced when I was 16 (ears/tongue/nipples) and tattooed when I was 18 (my 2nd day after moving to NYC). It’s been part of my life for a long time, but my involvement in the community fell off drastically when I started touring for a living and especially now that BME‘s “IAM” (an amazing social network that existed before social networks were even a thing) has seen its last days. There just isn’t the time to devote to it. My arms remain unfinished and I’ve removed a lot of my facial piercings and while I don’t really see the need to get any more piercings, I do want to finish my tattoos, and get a few more.
Being in Vegas, though, made me realize not just how disconnected I’d become, but also how much the entire industry has not particularly changed that much. The events are still kind of gimmicky and a lot of the industry still deals with a lot of cliché and stereotype. Granted, you kind of have to be when so much of the business is based on the general public. While I do not doubt the creativity, talent, and artistry involved, the whole industry could still use an injection of professionalism and organization. Administrative bodies like the APP have gone a long way with that, but given how old the trade is, I’m surprised it’s still as slap-dash as it is. I do love the people though. The unique expressionism, attitude, and overall acceptance of the community is amazing.
I got to meet Bill Tinney and his wife at BTSOE, which was a huge highlight. He is an incredible photographer and old hat to a lot of these events. I got some great advice from his wife over the weekend and I’ve taken it all to heart. It offered me a bit of an unexpected perspective change and I am certainly grateful for it.
The Monday after the show, I had a long talk with my dad about life and business and travel while I waited for the bus back to LA. It was right on time. I jumped on and headed back to Los Angeles without incident. Not bad for $25.
So yeah. A long, introspective bus ride both ways, through the desert. It provided further affirmation for me though that my personal values seem to exist in a space that is just not aligned with the majority of people I know. It doesn’t affect the work that I am able to produce on a technical level, but the longer I’m around people in a “professional” setting, the more I find I have to just isolate myself and work on my own level. I was kind of hoping it was just the result of working around people I’d never worked with before (aside from Stephen) and who are from a completely different industry. It’s not that there is no common ground, just highly different values and operational procedure. I end up hearing the same thing I’ve heard my entire life… “Why are you so serious all the time?” The post right before this one expands on this concept. Little did I know this would come up again, in a much more exaggerated fashion, a couple weeks later.
So, like I mentioned, it was a long bus ride through the desert back to LA from Vegas. I’ve made that drive many times in my life. On the way back, they showed “Despicable Me“, which I’d never seen and thought was pretty funny, “500 Days of Summer“, which I’d also never seen and didn’t particularly enjoy for personal reasons, and “When In Rome“, which I have, amazingly, seen before but cannot remember where. I listened to my usual podcasts and did a lot of staring out the window.
Back to the City of Angels
The bus actually got back to LA early, but then the LA Metro (if you can even call it that) was having all kinds of delays, so that pretty much canceled out any progress that had been made. I hoofed it back to Michelle’s place in Hollywood and got ready to jump over to my brother’s condo in Santa Monica for my last few days in LA. One of the last things I did in Hollywood was do some light wardrobe shopping in an attempt to reconnect with myself. It sounds silly, but reshuffling my clothes a little has gone a ways towards making me feel more comfortable with myself.
My brother is an interesting guy. I have no idea how he affords to live the lifestyle he does, or how no woman has yet managed to kill him for some of the relationship decisions he’s made. We haven’t always seen eye to eye, but as we’ve grown older, the bond that is brotherhood and family has pushed aside our differences. All in all he’s a great guy and I really enjoyed my time hanging out with him. His new condo is incredible and I’ve never explored Santa Monica all that much. I spent some time on the beach, staring at the ocean, shooting some photos, and spent the rest getting packed up and ready to fly back to Santa Cruz. I culled a lot out of my suitcase and considerably lightened my load. I would have to hit the ground running in SC, since I was immediately departing on a 3 day drive to Albuquerque, NM for “Rock The Ink: 2011“.
The Road There
Originally I was going to fly to Albuquerque, NM and meet up with Stephen and the Anatometal crew for Rock The Ink: 2011, a convention that Anatometal is heavily involved in. The offer was extended after my initial introduction in Las Vegas. When I mentioned flying down, Barry (the Anatometal owner) instead suggested that I drive down with him in his massive “house on wheels” RV. All I had to do was get to back to Santa Cruz. Well, it sounded like an adventure so I grabbed my camera, booked my ticket back to SC, and was on my way. It was going to be three days through the desert, not even a blip on the radar compared to my touring days, in a completely ridiculous vehicle. What’s the worst that could happen?
Now, don’t get me wrong, Barry and his 2nd in command, Tod, are two of the nicest people I’ve ever met. Great senses of humor, hospitable, generous, and fun to hang out with, Barry and I can wax photographica endlessly. The two of them represent a wealth of life experience I only hope I can one day achieve. There is one massive caveat though…
The two of them smoke more cigarettes than I have ever witnessed any human beings smoke in my life. I had an ex-girlfriend who smoked a lot, but these two put her to shame. Driving down the road, it’s no big deal. Just pop the windows open and it’s fine. I’m not a complainer and smoking in general doesn’t really bother me that much. My extensive touring experience has given me a pretty thick skin. I know how the road works. Where it killed me though, was at night when the RV is parked and closed up. I know now what it must be like to try and asphyxiate yourself in a garage. I’m not about to ask or tell a man to not smoke in his own house though.
I was willing to overlook the catastrophic effects on my health, but the damage that cigarette smoke can do to my equipment had me really worried. The gear I travel with, my camera, my laptop, my clothes… are all I have (yes, the same argument exists for my health). While I do hold the philosophical opinion that everything in my life is ultimately replaceable (with one, critical, exception), the practical reality is that I am not in a position to just be willy-nilly buying new things if they get damaged or destroyed. I understand that everyone’s situation is not the same, I only ask that they respect mine. Yeah, not so much. I did my best to keep my gear sealed up tight, but it was akin to fighting the tide.
On the way down to Albuquerque, we made two real side trips and one minor one. The first was a scant ride over to an abandoned water park outside of Yermo, CA. The second, a three and a half hour drive from AZ to Utah, up to Monument Valley that would push my tolerance to its limits. It would be the first of two times it would happen on this trip.
Yermo, CA – Abandoned Water Park
Barry and Tod had been talking about this place since Vegas. It’s just off The 15 near Yermo, CA. I was hoping for a bit more urban decay than I got, but it is still an amazing site for shooting photos. I would love to get some people and models together and go back and do a proper shoot. This trip was mostly exploratory for me, but I did manage to get some fun shots in. I have a much better idea about the site now and will definitely be returning.
Ok, that is enough TL:DR for now. Part 2 will be inbound shortly.
I’ve been sitting on a huge post draft that goes through all the crazy travel I’ve been doing recently. Las Vegas, Los Angeles, Santa Monica, Santa Cruz, Albuquerque, and back again. I’m currently on the road back to Santa Cruz. I’ll recoup there for a few days and decide where to next.
Part of that post was devoted to my recent trek to Albuquerque, NM from Santa Cruz, CA via RV, to shoot photos for Rock The Ink 2011 and then back again. It’s been a trying experience on more than one level, far more so than any tour I’ve ever been on, regardless of duration or circumstance. I’ve been on some pretty bad tours too.
The biggest part of this whole experience has been further confirmation that my personal and professional values just do not align with the vast majority of people I interact with. I find myself constantly at odds with how people function and the choices they make. Their conduct. I’m not saying that they are right or wrong, just that they do not ever seem to agree with my own. I always do my best to maintain a strict sense of professionalism and respect. In any given scenario my tendency to overthink means that I constantly considering the consequences of my actions and behavior. I tend to err on the side of caution. I stay quiet and focused. I set parameters and do not stray outside of them for a given task (though I, of course, always remain adaptable to any situation). This usually results in people saying that I am “too serious” or “too intense” and that I should “lighten up” or “relax”. It is very rare that I am around people who work on the same level that I do, who will take things seriously. To me, that is professionalism (Note: It is possible to enjoy your work and still be serious about it. You can have fun while working. It’s a matter of retaining focus on the job at hand). On a personal level, it means that my default is to always consider the effects of my actions and choices. I typically will not cross boundaries that I feel could be potentially disrespectful, regardless of my personal preferences. As I said, I tend to always err on the side of caution.
I’ve found that a lot of people do not. The try to force attention to themselves, or are concerned only with their own personal preferences. I’ve also found that these same people nearly always feel that their “way” is the “best” or “how things should be” without consideration for others. It is especially bad when people aren’t even self aware enough to recognize that in themselves. This leads to the aforementioned “too serious” style comments. It’s easy to see where this is going. Given that my personal values hardly ever align with those of others and the fact that 95% of people I find myself around are focused solely on their own, it creating increasingly uncomfortable, difficult, and frustrating situations. It makes working difficult and that feeds into a vicious cycle of not being able to enjoy my work, so I have to focus more on the serious side in order to produce the results I want. This feeds back into me seeming like I am incapable of having fun or enjoying what I am doing.
I once read that you should always strive to team up with people who are your general equal. If the other person is more skilled than you, they don’t need you. If you are more skilled, you don’t need them. Granted, people possess different skill sets, so it’s really a sense of “equality” across the board. You’d never learn anything new otherwise. I’ve heard this same concept applied to relationships, but that’s a conversation for a different time.
This trip also highlighted that I just don’t get people sometimes. Well, when it comes to personal interactions anyway. Observationally, I am very skilled at deciphering people and their motivations. I generally understand people and how they work. As soon as the interactions turn personal though (beyond general formalities), I find myself not sure how to react. It’s not that I have expectations; I just can’t always correctly interpret people’s actions or intentions towards me. Since I always side with caution, I think people understand that as disinterest, which usually is not the case. I am constantly entertaining dozens and dozens of options/actions and their implications (this was previously outlined in a post about my natural ability to see “avenues of possible outcomes”, the ability to easily anticipate people’s reactions). Without a clear understanding of intention though, I’m never sure what course of action to follow. I hate feeling like I am “overstepping boundaries”. I’ve been told that this is a somewhat unfair strategy, since my actions/reactions are required to confirm intention. The idea of misreading someone’s intention stops me in my tracks though. I’d rather politely do nothing. Something to work on I suppose.
Another trend I’ve noticed recently is people abruptly ending conversations. This is especially true lately in digital communications. Email, text, IM, etc. A conversation will start, questions, answers, general talking and then it’s like the person at the other end just walks in the middle of it without any kind of warning. Now, I of course understand that people are busy, and have lives, get distracted, have things come up, but it’s been unusually prevalent lately. People dodging questions has been common lately too.
So anyway, travel recap on the way.
I’ve been thinking all morning about where to start this. I can’t really decide on an appropriate starting point. How about…
9 years ago I trekked to Los Angeles on a personal adventure and found myself waking up on Sycamore St. in Hollywood. I was in the apartment of my new friend and upcoming professional photographer, Michelle Star. I woke up, kept quiet, got dressed, and walked to Starbucks to start my day. Opportunities abound…
Yesterday I arrived in Los Angeles on a continuation of a personal adventure. Today, I found myself waking up on Sycamore St. in Hollywood. I was in the apartment of my old friend and well known professional photographer, Michelle Star. I woke up, kept quiet, got dressed, and walked to Starbucks to start my day. Opportunities abound…
Too “history repeating”? Hmmm, how about…
I’m sitting in a Starbucks on the corner La Brea & Santa Monica in LA. I’ve sat in this Starbucks before, 2 years ago, while on a break/materials gathering mission while working on a job at Paramount Studios. I can see, from where I am sitting now, the GameStop and Target I went to, looking for a Mad Catz Rock Band Drum Cymbal Extension Kit for the stage I was building for the “Get Schooled” media event (see “Résumé” above).
Funny where you end up sometimes.
Not quite what I was looking for. Just the act of being here is changing how this is progressing, adding new potential to the mental mix.
I’m sitting in a Starbucks in LA, a city I’m on record for not being a huge fan of after living here 9 years ago. I’ve warmed to it a bit in the time since, but it still doesn’t sit right with me. “New York State of Mind” is playing on the radio. I loved living in NYC when I did. It’s not the city for me anymore really, sadly, but I wouldn’t trade the time I spent there for anything, good or bad. As I’m thinking of all those old times, feeling nostalgic, I look out the window to my left. A girl on a fixie just got hammered by a car on the corner of La Brea and Santa Monica Blvd. The car takes off. She is banged up, but ok. Her bike is rough shape. I rush outside to help.
The same thing happened to me 13 years ago on 8th & Broadway in NYC. I’ve told the story a thousand times. I start to wonder if it’s some kind of cosmic sign. My old life and my new life colliding? My past catching up to me? A chance to pay back some karma? I hold the belief that there really is no such thing as coincidence, you just need to be aware and recognize events as they happen, then try and decipher their significance. So now I’m sitting here thinking about what that might be.
A bit esoteric. How about just some recap action?
If you’ve been following this website, blog, journal, experiment, whatever it is, for any length of time, you’ll know that I have a history of being a bit all over the place… in more than just one regard. That wanderlust is seemingly baked in to my DNA/soul/consciousness/whatever. It’s driven by my perpetual feeling of a lack of purpose, or sense of really belonging anywhere. I move around a lot, try new things, and generally try and fill my life with skills and experience.
So now I’m sitting in a familiar Starbucks on La Brea and Santa Monica Blvd in Los Angeles, CA. This morning I woke up on the couch of an old friend, a friend I met here 9 years ago. Yesterday I was walking through the fog in Santa Cruz. So, just how did I end up in this seat?
Approx 2 years ago: I move from my apartment in Las Vegas, NV to Boston, MA for a shot at a fulltime job at Harmonix Music Systems, Inc. It’s a longshot, but the culmination of a lifetime of freelance work in the videogame event industry. Long story short, I get the job and become the Event Specialist for Harmonix. I go on to help produce events like E3, PAX (East & Prime), and Gamescom. I also slide into a kind of defacto photographer role for the team I’m on.
Approx 6 months ago: I quit my job at Harmonix Music Systems, Inc after the company is sold by MTV/Viacom and internal event production is scaled way down as the studio shifts it’s focus and new partners exert influence. I make the decision to move to Paris, FR for as long as a travel visa will allow. While there, I also travel to places like Cannes, Brussels, Antwerp, NYC, Bierves, Le Mans, etc. While in Paris I work on not just my photography and writing, but on myself. I try and sort out all my personal short-comings, my flaws, my weaknesses… the things I don’t particularly like about myself. I attempt to reconcile the two sides of myself that I feel are constantly at odds with each other. To find some kind of balance. In the process I end up boiling myself down a lot. I discover a lot of things about myself and for the first time in a long time I feel like I have priorities. I solidify some goals, make plans, and feel not only a sense of purpose, but also of belonging and comfort. I start to consolidate and focus on what I want in my life. A new me starts to emerge.
Approx 1 month ago: I leave Paris bound for Seattle, WA. I’ve spent as much time as I could in Paris without risking deportation. For the first time in a long time though, I don’t want to leave where I am. I actually like Paris and the life that was starting there. Duty calls. I’m headed to see Suki Valentine, a friend from way back, from the old New York days. She’s building and opening a new store in Seattle and I agreed to help out with the opening. She’s offered me a place to stay while I do. Though I’m sad to leave Paris, I am excited at this opportunity. After nearly 5 months of creative and emotional focus, I’m going to see if my practical skills are still sharp. I find that not only are they, but I am able to find some the balance I had been working towards. I start shooting photos for the store after it opens. I build massive playlists and DJ sets as well. I work on social media. I meet a lot of great people and even get a chance to shoot some photography on the set of a film in Olympia. I kind of like Seattle and the potential it presents. I seem to have started down the path I was working towards, but something is missing.
Approx 1 week ago: I leave Seattle, bound for Santa Cruz, CA. The housing thing didn’t quite pan out as expected in Seattle. I slept on the floor of the store a lot. I slept on the couches of new friends. It was fine, I’m adaptable and experienced. I’m good at making due with what is available. The hospitality and kindness shown to me by new friends was amazing. I’m not really comfortable with that for too long though. I don’t like intruding on people’s lives, no matter how much they insist that I’m not.
So it was off to Santa Cruz, CA, the home of my best friend, Stephen, his lovely fiancé Heather, and their hilarious Welsh Corgi, Patton. You can read more about that in the post right below this one. There will be another incoming shortly, a follow up on my time spent in Santa Cruz.
Yesterday: It’s an intensely foggy evening in Santa Cruz. Stephen drops me off at San Jose airport and I board a little prop plane bound for Los Angeles, CA. It’s a more introspective flight than usual. Since the plane never clears 25,000ft during the whole flight, I can watch the sun set below the California coastline and the lights of cities twinkle on. The two stewardesses are hilarious. They dole out complimentary drinks with wild abandon. The front cabin stewardess talks like she’s smoked two packs of Camel Light Wides a day since she was born. It was entertaining.
The fog is just as intense in LA when we land as it was in Santa Cruz when I left. It lends a kind of quiet to the arrival as we slowly descend though it. You still deplane to the tarmac on flights like this, and we’re all standing in the fog waiting for our luggage to emerge. It’s surreal and still kind of quiet. I get my bag and all that quiet goes away the second I emerge from the other side of LAX. It’s like the car version of white water rapids if it was a race and you were allowed to jump into the rafts from the sidelines. Cacophonous madness, but that’s LA. I knew what I was getting into.
Michelle and I chat on the drive. We catch up a little bit. I see her new place, drop my stuff. She’s been awake for 25 hours and is out pretty quickly. I drop onto the couch in her living room, putting pretty much everything aside for the evening. Stephen had let me borrow “Do Travel Writers Go To Hell” by Thomas Kohnstamm, so I start in just to see how it is. 3 hours later, I finish it. I start it over again, book marking passages with, appropriately, old boarding passes, airport receipts, and TSA inspection notices. Some of the paragraphs read like I wrote them, or at least like I thought them. Paragraphs like:
I am rarely lonely or depressed when I travel alone – except when I first wake up in the morning. My eyes adjust to the surroundings and I try to figure out where I am and what I’m doing there. One white ceiling with cracked paint is the same as the next. It is also a point in the day when I have too much space to reflect on the events that have led me to where I am, and to think about what else I could be doing with my life.
By the time I was though the second read, it was about 5:00AM. So much for sleep. I hadn’t really eaten all that much in the past day or so either. Sleep was in order. I’d figure out food tomorrow. Dreams were strange. I was up by 10:00AM. And now… here I sit, tip-tapping away, trying to get all this in order. LA is going to be a bit crazy (more on that later).
So yeah, something like that. Not the most detailed of recaps, but you can always just go read the individual posts if you’re interested.
And now we’re caught up a bit. For those that really know me, they know that I am omitting parts of this story, including one of the most important parts, actually, but that’s the way it is for now. The time isn’t quite right for that.
So that’s where I sit, literally. Dinner with my brother tonight and a shoot that starts first thing in the morning.
At this time last week I was preparing to leave Paris, FR, after 3.5 amazing months there.
At this time this week I am in Seattle, WA
preparing to spin after having spun my final set at BedlamBedlam, a new store opened by one of my close friends, Suki Valentine and her husband, Shea.
I flew in to not just DJ the premiere weekend events, but also to assist with the actual store production in it’s final days leading up to the grand opening. It was a mad rush right up to the very last second, but that kind of executional environment happens to be a specialty of mine. I operate very well under pressure and the diversity of my experience means that there wasn’t a single task I couldn’t take on. Everything from electrical work, vinyl cutting and application, construction/carpentry, A/V, merchandising, social media roll-out, etc, the works, you name it. It was nice to put all those skills to use again and to know I’m as sharp and well versed as ever. Helping my friends is the best possible cause so I was glad I was able to put my skillset to use for that purpose.
On top of the production work, I’ve also spun a series of live sets for in-store events, created epic playlists for the store, and photographed the goings on (simultaneously DJing and photographic events is not easy, heh). It’s been a strange amalgamation of my past and my present. When I was originally asked to DJ for the store events, including a fashion show, I thought it might be a joke. It had been nearly decade since I was behind decks, during a time in my life that was a million miles from where I am now. The technology has changed dramatically (I used to record my sets on long-play cassettes) so it was a bit of a challenge to do everything digitally from scratch (no pun intended), but I pulled it all off in a pretty spectacular fashion and added a lot of new tools and techniques to my audio arsenal in the process. My musical taste has certainly changed since that time too, well, “expanded” I should say. That proved to be a bit of a double-edged sword.
It is unfortunately, painfully, obvious that I am just not part of this subculture any more (something I also experienced with the hardcore videogame culture in my last job). I’ve evolved as a person and while I still retain aspects of the subculture as part of myself, I’m certainly much broader in scope as an individual than can be associated with any one particular group. Yes, I’m of course connected through the music, in a way, but I’ve found that as I have changed, and that which I introduce those changes, it’s not often met with a sense of acceptance, especially when applied to something as rigid as a specific subculture. The image is rooted in tradition, no matter how “anti-traditional” the image is. People want what they are familiar with and straying from that, even into a space that is more authentic or situationally suited for the environment, tends to incite conflict. I’m not saying I’m some progressive or creative genius or anything like that, just that I try to encourage the evolution of all things. To be open to the possibilities that something unknown can work within the context of what you are familiar with. As an example, here’s a small sampling of the tracks I used for the BedlamBedlam reception set I mixed.
Satan (Live from Irvine) – Orbital
Still – Neotropic
Radio Babylon – Meat Beat Manifesto
Moya (7″) – Southern Death Cult
Ostia (The Death of Pasolini) – Coil
Papua New Guinea – The Future Sound of London
Destroy Everything You Touch – Ladytron
Ballad of a Paralyzed Citizen – The Faint
Chainsaw (Josh Wink Remix) – Skinny Puppy
Stopwatch Hearts – Delerium
You Can’t Go Home Again – DJ Shadow
I was asked to keep it generally down-tempo and low-key. This was a reception, not a dance party. I was billed as spinning Trip-Hop, Ambient, and Darkwave, and while I am familiar with all those styles of music, I am not really devoted to any one of them. Now, a lot of those tracks above are not any of those three styles of music, but when well sampled and mixed, they work into a marvelous dark electro-ambient landscape. More-so, each track was explicitly, deliberately, chosen for personal significance to the people in attendance. The opening sample in the live version of “Satan” is something Suki and I still reference to this day. “Assimilate” is an industrial classic and a staple of my old sets, the remix I used for this set fit the event but still was able to call back to those days. “Destroy Everything You Touch” is one of Suki’s favorite tracks. “You Can’t Go Home Again“, well, I’m sure by now you can guess why I put that in there. I can go on and on, but you get the idea. The entire experience was designed to have significance, even if it didn’t fit exactly into the genre scope I was assigned. To me, that is the essence of producing a meaningful set/event/photo/etc. A personal connection trumps guideline/genre confinement, especially when you can still operate within the boundaries of the theme. That is what having passion about something is. Well, to me anyway.
My in-store sets have been much different. Crazy uptempo, epic, sprawling, sets full of old and new. Although the store’s theme is “Goth” (which also usually bends backwards into 80’s, New Wave, and Post-Punk) I’ve been straying far more into Industrial, EBM, Synth, Electro, and even a bit of Metal. As it is, I’ve been banned from mixing The Misfits into my sets and that is extra-ordinarily disheartening to me. I’ve caught some flack for some of my choices (Southern Death Cult is ok, The Cult is not.) and some I’ve been able to sneak under the radar because they fit so well (Devils Never Cry, Bloody Tears) and I know how to mix them. Pushing boundaries like that was one of the reasons I was originally noticed and picked up by Nintendo (mixing classic Nintendo tracks into my cool-down sets). Pushing those limitations is progress and imagination.
In any case, it’s been an experience. Originally I was going to make Seattle my base of operations for a while. The start-up scene, tech industry, and creative environment are very strong here and there is a lot of great job potential. Unfortunately, the housing situation that was proposed to me did not manifest as planned and, well, I kind of need one of two things to get the ball rolling in most places. A place to live or a well paying gig. With one, the other can usually be secured very quickly. Without either, being particularly effective at anything becomes a challenge. So, with that, it’s time to move on. I definitely still feel that there is potential here though. I’ve made some amazing contacts across all different kinds of industries and I could probably integrate very quickly here, but now is just not the time. It’s been a good lesson in saying “No.” and understanding what I don’t want. Both of those being kind of opposite scenarios for me. The former in that I’m not going to just be ambivalent about things and the latter in the way that I do have such a better idea about what I want in my life, especially after Paris.
During the reception one of Suki’s closest friends asked me if I live in my own “Kyle World”. I asked her what she meant (I’m not fond of that phrase) and she clarified. She said that it seemed like I didn’t quite fit into any of the traditional group dynamics around me, especially for the store. That I seem to live outside of my given environment, observing or affecting it externally via my photography, music, work ethic, etc, but never becoming an actual part of it.
It was an interesting observation. In a way it’s true, given my natural adaptability and ability to play a role that is needed while still holding on to some base element of myself. Maybe I’m out of practice after Paris, where I was just able to be myself 95% of the time.
And so, here we are. My last week in Paris. So much has changed since even my last entry. Well, that was 21 days ago so I guess that makes sense. 3 weeks ago I moved from my original apartment, which I’d only rented for 2 months, to an amazing place on Île Saint-Louis. I wake up to the bells of Notre Dame now.
As you might imagine, I am not ready to leave this city (again). Let’s be honest here, the good ol’ US of A has seen better days. Every time I read news about the states it seems dire, for all kinds of crazy reasons. Now, I’m not saying France is in any kind of uniquely spectacular condition but if I’m going to call a place home in the middle of all these global financial crises, it might as well be somewhere I enjoy. I’ve come to love the people here, friends I’ve made, I love the opportunities this city presents (it really is an artists wonderland) and what the city itself represents. I love that as I continue to travel, I can do so from here much more easily than from the US (“travel” meaning “outside of the US”, I’ve seen 95% of America already). I have met some amazing people here and I want to meet more. I’ve integrated into this city well already, but it really is a place I feel I could be a part of.
Sure, I didn’t get a chance to do or see everything I wanted to. That is of course contributing to not wanting to leave. There are things I can easily do back in the states vs. here, of course, and some I cannot. I am excited about a lot of things I’ll be headed back to as well. I haven’t seen a lot of my friends in a long time. I’m going to be helping friends open up an amazing store in Seattle as well as guest DJing a few sets in the same city. Talk about nostalgia (I was a club DJ in NYC back in the late 90’s). I’ve been asked to shoot my best friend’s engagement photos in Santa Cruz. I’m meeting with a great friend and amazing photographer in LA about more photography work. I’ll be passing through NYC and Boston as well, and who knows where else beyond that.
Thinking about it that way makes it all sound like an adventure, and it is! It also means I’m going to be transient again. It means jumping back into the battle. It means a lot of stress and fighting and figuring out things day to day again. If there is anything I’ve left behind in my time here is Paris, it is my desire to go back to living like that.
It’s not that I can’t, or won’t, of course. I’m as adaptable as ever. I can and will make work what I need to make work. That’s just the way I am. There is something different though. Something that has changed. I’ve mentioned it before, it’s simply wanting to be where I am. It’s being in a place where I feel at home, supported. A place I care about. A place that frees me up to put my mind on other things. When I don’t have to constantly worry about where I am going to be next I see myself open up to so much more.
Plus, you know, I’m getting too old for all this. Ha!
I am much more complete from my time here. I have a much clearer direction about what it is I want, who I want to be, who I want to be with, and where I want to be. On one hand I feel energized, excited to put myself into practice, on the other I know leaving Paris leaves a lot of unknowns and I don’t like that.
You’re waiting for a train. A train that will take you far away. You know where you hope this train will take you. But you can’t know for sure. Yet it doesn’t matter. Now, tell me why?
I’ve had a hundred conversations in my head lately, but none that I can remember enough to put down here. I still stand by the idea that as soon as I can directly write via my thoughts on long, night time, walks this website will be a content powerhouse.
It’s easier to leave than be left behind, I suppose.
Well, that’s all for now. This post has been sitting as a draft for almost a week now. My Paris galleries will keep expanding even after I leave. I have a lot of photos from this particular adventure, eventually they will all be in these galleries. My time here has been too important for them not to be.
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And so here I sit. Watching tour boats travel up and down the Seine from my spot on Paris Plages, next to the pétanque courts. My croissant is mediocre and I’m treating myself to a Fanta Orange (I stopped drinking soda a long time ago). There are people painting around me, and people filming the people painting, and people photographing the people filming the people painting (how meta). The sky is dark, which seems to be the usual lately, I expect rain.
If you read the last entry here, (it’s long, I know) you know a little bit about how and why I’m here. If you were aware of my plan before I left, you might be asking yourself why I am still here. Then again, if you were aware of my plan before I left you are also psychic and don’t need to be reading this. Here, I’ll concentrate for a second and you can just skip this whole website thing.
Happy now? While I was waiting for you, a bee drank my soda.
So, expanding on things for those of us who are not so fantastically mentally endowed, part of my time here, and even prior to coming here, was to take a long look at the people in my life and where they fall within this kind of behavior spectrum I’ve been visualizing. This spectrum basically ranges from people who primarily “take” from the relationship to people who primarily “give” to the relationship. And that isn’t just about time or things; it is about understanding, expectations, trust, and support. Overall, really, though, it is about acceptance. Acceptance that people live dynamic lives, that things change (although people often don’t: see below), and that not everything goes to plan. I tend to give people a wide breadth. I understand that people are flawed, circumstances sometimes dictate, and that things don’t always turn out the way we hoped. Note: I use the word “relationship” here to describe all general interactions between people and myself. It does not exclusively mean “romantic relationship”. I have a great relationship with my best friend, Stephen, but I don’t want to date him. You know, in case that wasn’t clear.
In any case, I started looking at all these people and realizing that there are only a handful of people who I feel like I can say “No” to and not feel like it’s going to be the end of the known universe.
This is one of those things I recognize explicitly in myself and something I have worked quite hard to overcome. I just did not like saying “no”. I did not like feeling like I was disappointing someone by not always being available to them. I don’t like feeling like I am closing doors to opportunities I would otherwise have by staying open to any possibility.
Generally, I just took a kind of ambivalent viewpoint and stance that didn’t require me to commit to a “yes”, but left the door open by also not directly saying “no”. I’m sure you can imagine how infuriating that must have been for a lot of people. In my mind though, I was convinced I was keeping people happy; they get what they want from me no matter what direction they swing. Well, generally I like giving people what I think they want so the relationship stays open (good) to possibilities. It all kind of made sense in my head.
Yeah, except life doesn’t really work that way and, for the most part, neither do people. I had to realize that by saying “no”, the world wasn’t going to suddenly end. I had look across that spectrum of people and start to realize that if my relationship was going to end with someone because I stopped being so ambivalent about everything, then it probably wasn’t worth it in the first place (Thanks, Nina). So I did. I started setting those boundaries. I had to. It wasn’t easy. It required being explicitly direct. It required taking a chance that a relationship could end. That you could lose someone from your life. It required the conviction and courage to make a choice.
Time out: Ok, I know this all seems pretty silly. So much angst over the simple, silly, act of saying “no”. It’s more than that really. It’s more about not wanting to lose people close to me by not giving them what they want. It took a lot of time to accept that some people just take and that they really don’t deserve the attention and affection I tend to freely give.
Anyway, so I started. I had the best possible reason.
And, well, nothing ever goes as expected. Some people reacted just like I feared, that saying “no”, just once, was grounds enough to not want to be friends any more. It hurts. A lot. I felt, and still feel a bit like I let those people down. I caused that end to happen by not always being there. I miss them, I suppose, but ultimately I needed to be able to say what I did. The caveat here is that by giving to less people, I can increase what I do give to the people in my life who truly deserve it. Quality vs. quantity as it were. And I very much like that.
Well, that’s where I stopped writing. I’ll be picking things back up in the next one. I have a ton of notes I want to get in here.
I feel compelled to commit this to medium before it goes out of my head. Not that I think it will, not how I’m feeling at this very moment, because it’s one of those feelings I think a person only ever experiences a precious few times in their life.
Two months ago I left the United States, Boston specifically (but that’s another story), and moved to Paris, France. I don’t speak French. I’d only ever been here once before in my life, for 5 of the most wonderful days I had ever experienced in my life. I came here for a lot of reasons. For adventure. To escape. To test myself. To explore aspects of myself I had shelved for the sake of my work. More so, however, I came here to be close to a woman. A woman who, in the short time I’ve known her, has changed my perceptions of a great many things in my life. She moved here for many of the same reasons that I listed above. Knowing that made the decision to move here incredibly difficult.
I can handle myself. I am efficient, adaptable, capable, smart, and creative. I can understand how most things work in a very short period of time. I suppose it’s the definition of “having a head” for something. I know how to travel, how to live with very little, and how to make the best of nearly any situation. I’m rarely “out of my element” because I don’t really have an element. As my brother would say, quoting Bruce Lee, “You must be like water.” None of the practical aspects of any of this move were difficult for me. Language, custom, tradition, day-to-day… easy. I learn, I adapt, I integrate.
What made it difficult, beyond my ability to even parse in my head sometimes, was that I did not want to, I could not, impose on this woman. This was her time, not mine, and none of my reasons for coming to Paris really held up, not in the shadow of wanting to be with her. I had to respect her choice. I did. She is one of my dearest friends. It was a terrifying decision, but one I ultimately had to make. And I did. And I made it with one repeating thought in my head (ok, maybe two).
My whole life I have felt that I have been missing two things: Place and Purpose. Anyone who knows me knows this about me, though I’m sure it is not uncommon. That I have never felt like I belonged anywhere that I was and that I never felt as if I had any kind of purpose greater than just existing. My best friend Jess once famously said to me “Maybe your purpose is just to have no purpose. I’m sorry that of all of us, that had to be you.” (14 years later I would hear the line “Just suppose that the shaping and molding of destiny… is your destiny.” when watching the remake of “My Sassy Girl” and noted the similarity). I’ve thought about that line a lot in my life and years ago I started to accept it as the truth. It lead me to a place of indifference about pretty much everything. I was completely non-nonchalant and ambivalent in my decision making process. I let a lot of things just happen, without really trying to influence them or affect them (as much as one can) in any particular way. I became content to just… see what happened. My skillset made this pretty easy, especially my adaptability and problem solving skills. It was easy to just cast my sail and see where the wind would take me.
It sounds romantic, I suppose, on some level, to be that carefree about things, but carefree can quickly become careless if you’re not careful. It is also, as I would discover, ultimately just really selfish. I wasn’t committed to any particular place or any particular people (in a broad sense). Places are easy. People not so much. A person, least of all. Sure, I had people in my life I love, dearly, and I still functioned as a person (duh) and knew how to play my part, but in the end, it was very difficult to feel like I needed to make an overwhelming effort to maintain anything since, well, I’d only happened into it in the first place and I was only really just passing through. As my friend Nina would say “Fuck you, Mercury, you are such a goddamn fatalist.”
If you’ve reached this point and have decided “Jesus, what a self afflicted, self centered, asshole.” I wouldn’t blame you. When I look back over a lot of my life, I feel the same way, though my friends tell me otherwise (two sides, always). You might also be asking “What the fuck does this have to do with Paris?” I’m getting to that.
So here I was. Torn between leaving for Paris and just leaving her to the time alone I know she needed. And then, one night, laying in bed, a thought just crawled up there. “Hey…” it said, “Hey, why are you even debating this? Why don’t you snap the hell out of it and get your shit together? You know you are capable of it, the practical, that part is easy. Stop looking for an excuse not to. You can’t leave it to the wind, to chance, this time. You’ve finally found something worth going after. Make the decision to chase this hope, this dream.“
I was right. Well, the tiny me in my head was. This was different. This was worth it. I couldn’t just sit around and hope what I wanted would happen. I had to go do it, go make it happen. And maybe I would fail, but I had to be able to say to myself “This is what I wanted and I did something about it. I took that chance.” And in that second, in that flash, I had found Purpose. Even if just for this one thing, I knew what I needed to do.
So, with that out of the way (you know, just like that), I was off to Paris. Well, not quite, I had some stops along the way, but for the purpose of this writing, I was off to Paris. That was two months ago.
Now here I sit. Today is my last day in my little apartment in Bastille. It has been a complicated two months. I took my chance, I stepped up and made a choice, and nothing ever happens how you expect it to. But this isn’t the end of this story, this is just the start of it (I know, you’re thinking “Then why the fuck did I just read all of the above?“, trust me, I’m thinking the same thing about writing it.) and here’s why.
Place. This place. Paris.
Ok, ok. Sorry. So knowing the above, you know that I’ve never felt at home anywhere really. I mean, I can integrate and make due with where I am, but I don’t know that I’ve ever lived anywhere long term that I’ve really felt is home to me. The one exception to this might be New York City. I lived there for 12 years and I do love that city. It was home for a while, but I was far younger in those days. Looking back, I know that NYC what what I needed it to be for me at that time. I love it for that, but I know it is not what I need anymore. For me, home is a lot more about the people I’m with than the place I am. I don’t know if that last fact has played into how I’ve come to feel about Paris, and while I suspect greatly that it has, I am not ready to leave this city. Not even a little bit.
This is one of the most unexpected things about this adventure for me. To be in a place where I do not speak the language, where so many things are different, where I have never been… and to totally fall in love with it. To, despite all those things, feel like I can fit here. To wake up and like where I am. To walk down a street, to want to see more, do more, to know more. I suppose this is the ultimate draw of Paris, why so many people love it here, so in that regard I guess I’m not unique, but I was not really ready for this. I have pictured aspects of my life here that I have never imagined before in my life and I do not want to leave that, at least not yet (there are rules, after all).
So, it’s strange. Somewhere along the way I managed to find Purpose and Place, and that lead to something else unexpected; Identity. (I was thinking about making a venn diagram for those three things, but graph-jamming isn’t exactly one of my strong suits.)
Anyway, yes, Identity, the last of my great personal struggles. If you remember from way back up at the top of this post, I talked about selfishness. One might point out that selfishness is an aspect of understanding identity. I mean, if I only ever thought of myself I must have a good idea about what I want and who I am, right? Sure, except that I am not a selfish person. Being a selfish person was, is, not a part of who I really am, same thing with also being so ambivalent about so many other things in my life. Now, I do understand that the way I was living was masking who I was from myself. In this past year, where I was (Boston) was doing the same thing. My Purpose (or lack thereof) and Place were obfuscating my Identity from me and everyone else I care about (or didn’t). I had fallen into a role I was playing, more than one actually, on a stage I didn’t want to be on. The demeanor I was putting forward was not the nature of who I am (This line is attributed to my best [yes, I have more than one] friend, Stephen, who once said: “People don’t change. They can’t really, because who they are is made up of so many things they aren’t even aware of, that they can’t even remember. They can change what they show the world, their demeanor, but never who they really are, their true nature.“). Some people, like Stephen, have a nearly identical nature and demeanor. They do not hide much from the world and are honest with those around them. You can take what you see or not, but they are not going to play some part for you. Some people have an opposite nature and demeanor. Some people hide their true nature behind their demeanor. Some people don’t even know what their true nature is.
In any case, with my Purpose a little better defined and my Place filling an actual role in my life, my Identity has begun to form. I don’t feel nearly as lost as I used to and I look in the mirror now and recognize the person looking back. He’s not complete yet, but his core is there. He has dreams and goals. He has an idea about the direction he wants to move in and he’s not afraid to take steps in that direction. To start down that path proactively, instead of just wondering if the wind will take him in that direction and casually accepting if it doesn’t.
This is the real reason I came here. These were the changes I needed in my life, to help make it an actual life, and not just an existence. And I am not ready for it to be over. Not that I think it will be if I leave, but Paris has filled that Place role so well. Doubt always lurks in the background, and it can come on so quickly, but being here, doing what I know I need to be doing, what I want to be doing, can keep that at bay. It gives me the chance to be me, and I kind of finally like who that person is becoming.