Move (ment)

I'm moving tomorrow morning, early. I'm nervous. At the same time, I'm really excited and looking forward to life in a new neighbourhood. I know that everything will be fine, I'm getting a good feeling about it, but still, for some reason, I'm nervous.

I'm going from Rosemont (deep deep Rosemont) to South Central. I'll be 15 minutes away from my school (that's by foot), in comparison to 40 minutes via bus+metro. Just that fact makes everything a whole lot better. I'll be 20 minutes away from my job instead of an hour. I'll be living close to everything, in a place where there's a lot more activity. My photography will probably benefit from that.

Those who know Montreal know that South Central = Gay Village. I'm not sure how I'll enjoy that. I've never been really fond of that neighbourhood. It seems to be the epitomy of everything I'm not. I'm not partying all the time, I don't devote a cult to my body. At the same time, I'm thinking that perhaps living there will help me face that, face the fact that, yeah, some people in life are vain and some people in life are bitches and judge the value of others by who they wear and the haircut they have. But it should allow me to recognize that not everybody is like that, that not every guy who lives in or frequents that neighbourhood is like that.

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I felt really blue at Christmas. On the bus ride to Granby on the 24th, I had to focus really hard not to start weeping. My mom was picking me up at the bus terminal. When I got in the car, we started talking about things and I explained that I was feeling blue. Again, I came really close to crying. After the xmas mass, we got back home and my sister+brother-in-law arrived. We had the traditional feasting and gift-exchanging. Seeing my family really made me feel better. I felt loved. These past weeks I've been feeling really lonely. Lonely like no one really cares. It's nothing worrisome though. It's not related to depression or anything. I recognise that my life, in general, is going really well. But still, I feel terribly alone...

Fastforward

My school term ended a week ago. Christmas is coming up and I'm moving out of the Villa in a week. Time flies, it's just incredible. It seems like only a month ago, it was scorchingly hot outside and I was looking forward to beginning photoschool and was a bit anxious as what it would be like. Finally, school turned out to be pretty much all I expected and promises to be even more as the terms go by. Next term, we'll be tackling studio work and artificial lighting, colour theory and, gasp!, we'll even shoot 4x5s!

As for this term, I went through a crisis towards photography and came out of it with a better vision on what I want to do and I'm producing stronger work. At my term assessment with capture and lab teachers, the comments were really positive and encouraging. Also, I got the highest final grades that I have even gotten in my life: 92% in capture class and "over 90" in lab.

So, this year will have been a crazy rollercoaster and my first real foray into what I shall name: The Adult Life. So, since I'm in a seemingly neverending listing mood, here it goes again:

2005 in keywords:

• johnné
• love
• german
• drunken interior photography of a woman
• student strike
• new job
• heartbreak
• new adventures
• rollercoaster
• weird people
• relapse
• discovery
• tears
• laughs
• running
• photography
• dSLR
• recovery
• new beginnings
• Powerbook!
• public transit
• piercings
• love
• heartbreak (again)
• friendship
• family
• sweat
• work
• strength
• questionnings
• and, ultimately, coming through

I've probably missed a couple of things, but I think that summarizing a year in keywords beats the hell out of doing a full written recap. Also, I doubt that doing so would be of interest to anyone but me.

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I've spoken to my father last week. For the first time in something like 8 or 9 months. We chatted and then I admitted that I wanted to make contact for a while but was having a case of pride. He said that so did he. So we agreed to stop that shit right now and keep in contact from now on.

It seems that, in doing so, a shift was initiated. Some people I had not spoken to in a long time contacted me. Other things of that effect have happened. Maybe it's the coming of the new year, but I feel a new cycle coming on, something different.

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I finally managed to go see my doctor about my blood test and my medication follow-up. My blood test was superb, absolutely nothing wrong with it. Also, seeing how everything is, I can stop taking my meds anytime starting mid-january. During all the time I was in the cabinet, my doctor kept on talking to me about photography and making jokes. When I left, he gave me a nice pat on the back wishing me merry christmas and sweet things for the new year.

:D

Things I Love

(I'm in a listing mood, please bear with me)

Here's a little non-exhaustive list of things I love (not in any particular order)

I love:

• the sound of my powerbook's keyboard when typing
• my powerbook
• my family
• foggy mornings
• having a bowl of cereal not long before going to bed
• waking up without an alarm clock
• waking up before my alarm clock and making it on time to class
  
• surprises
• smiling at people on the street or in the metro and see them smile back
• my friends, the dear ones
• making people laugh
• laughing and giggling
• the feeling I get after training
• printing images on a professional printer
• my camera (which is now named Nikole)
• Johann Sebastian Bach
• Erik Satie
• muffins (yes, I know that I said I'd quit muffins...)
• www.toothpastefordinner.com and www.nataliedee.com
• browsing camera stores and drooling over pro DSLRs and Leicas
• optical theory
• moleskines
• music
• Darién
• Sharpies
• Montreal
• the Museum Of Contemporary Arts of Montreal
• flowers
• riding in Emilie's car and singing along to the music
• life
• many other things...

Things I Should Do

This is in the same vein as the Resolutions post of a couple weeks ago, but this is just a series of random thoughts I had while taking a shower.

A Few Things I Should Do:

• Stop biting my nails
• Get reacquainted with my father (or, at least, write him an email, even if it means stepping on my pride by doing so)
• Get back to running (yes, I know it was in my resolutions. I did manage to find a way to train 3 times a week without skipping, but still nothing on the running front)
• Do my dishes a tad more often
• Take more pictures
• Keep learning german
• Start applying for jobs as a photo assistant as soon as the new year gets here
• Be more careful with my files and my workflow in order not to lose data
• Call my doctor, now that I had my blood test done
• Write a Thank You card to my sister
• Call my friend Marie-Eve, just because
• Prepare for moving out

That Darned Blood-test

I was supposed to get blood tests done for about 4 months now. But I kept postponing it. It's mainly a routine exam, to make sure that my depression relapse wasn't caused by a physiological problem.

I figured I would get that done tomorrow morning because my class starts at 13:30. So, knowing that I had to fast before the test, I had dinner, then went cycling, came back, had only a glass of juice and then stopped ingesting stuff (except water). As I was preparing my things for tomorrow in order to be able to leave the flat quickly and get that test out of the way, I checked my sheet. I had misread before. I was certain I had to be sitting on a empty stomach for 8 hours prior to the test. It was 23:00 when I checked. But the sheet said that I had to have not eaten anything 12 hours prior to the test. So, without knowing it, by drinking that glass of juice at 22:30, I ruined my possibility of taking the test tomorrow morning.

Guess I'll have to have it done next week.

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I couldn't fall asleep, so I got up and felt hungry, so I had a bowl of cereal. Then, I turned on the TV. I had forgotten how much fun watching infomercials can be. I saw the last 5 minutes of an advert for a fortune reading by telephone service. The man was telling the woman on the phone that the man in her life was going to acquire a house in the next "4 to 7 months". The woman was extatic and kept on saying: "ooh! Yes! really! wow! thank you! thank you so much!"

And right now, I'm watching an infomercial for a dating service that caters to straight men and woman, gays and lesbians, bisexuals and swingers. It's really funny to watch, they're playing back messages by the members and showing trite moments lived by the members, all in slow-motion. The name of the service translates roughly to "The dating service that hits!" It's mainly a way for people to hook-up for sex. I love how the people in the messages try to be clever but they just end up sounding stupid. My favourite one goes like this:
"Guys, be wary: I know what I want. Pleasure, pleasure and just more pleasure" (all said in a really cheesy tone)

TV. Great, smart entertainment at all hours.

A Quote For Inspiration

"I need to have a spark of truth and love in my photos
If it isn't there, things don't work"
-Yann Arthus-Bertrand

Resolutions

Here's a list of precepts I've either started to implement in my life or that I will start implementing in the next few days.

• Sleep more
• Go to bed earlier
• Leave behind some bad (and stupid) habits that I've acquired as of recent
• Not let myself be brought down by the snobs in my program
• Tone and moisturize day and night
• Eat better (i.e. eat complete meals)
• Bring lunches to work and school
• Give up muffins (I'm addicted to muffins...)
• Drink less coffee and more water
• Get back to running
• Keep with my training routine (I used to be really strict and go training 3 times a week, but because of all that's happened, my training has been incredibly episodic in the past 2 months)
• Masturbate less
• Not waste energy over little frustrations
• Be less severe toward myself
• Be more confident
• Carry a camera with me at all times
• Learn how to and start using a diary
• Write down my ideas
• When I wake up, scribble down the oddities that I've dreamt about
• Clean up my room and my flat as needed and not wait until I find it unbearably messy
• Tackle things as they come up and not postpone
• Start meditating again
• Spend at least 3 hours at the piano per week (this will be hard to implement, but I'll work on it)
• Work on my piano scales and my sight-reading
• Meet new people, hear new and different opinions and viewpoints
• Etc!

Printing

Last tuesday, in lab class, we finally started printing. We had been printing proofs using the Phaser printer, but the inkjet system finally became operational last week. The lab for first year students is outfitted with a (very very nice) Epson Stylus Pro 4800. Teacher had told us the week before that if we wanted to print this week, to buy our paper and bring it to class asap. When I went to the store, they were out of said paper. So I resigned getting it then and went to class paperless.

I was just working on my pictures, turning them to black and white, arranging my weekly contact sheet when I noticed that three pictures I had taken would work perfectly as a triptych. I arranged them and asked the teacher for his opinion. I wasn't certain of the validity of printing that. He asked me what I thought and I confessed that since school started I felt like I didn't know anything anymore. He told me that yes, there is validity in doing that and that I HAD to print it. That questions always come and that we can get carried away by them, but the idea is to keep shooting.

Because of the fact that most students could not get their box of photo paper on time (Ilford Gallerie Smooth Pearl 11x17), the department gave a couple of pro 13x19 sheets to the class for printing. The idea is that the sheets would have two pictures printed on them, so we could maximise the ressources. My triptych needed a whole sheet to work. So when I said to my teacher that I would wait to print it because I would be using a whole sheet, he told me to do it anyways.

So I printed it and it was an amazing feeling. To actually have something come out, something that I worked on. Something that I shot, processed, arranged and then printed.

I came out of lab class with a glow (and a triptych printed on 13x19 pro photo paper).

(See the triptych here.)

Now What?

I've probably written about this little crisis I'm experiencing toward photography. I'm at a point where I can take decent pictures but nothing really speaks to me. I take pictures that hold up, but they are pictures for the brain and not pictures for the heart.

I had a meeting with my capture class professor today. She commented on the work I've submitted since the beginning of the term. Her feedback was mostly positive. At the same time, she noticed that my pictures are devoid of any emotional charge. I explained to her my current questioning about picture-taking and image-making, about why I'm doing it, what speaks to me and what I want to say through my imaging. She gave me tips, ideas. Mainly, she said something along the lines of: "Olivier, you seem to have hit a comfort zone. You draw your images really well, there are a lot of graphical element, but your images convey no emotions. You like working with people, so why not try to work with people you don't know. Surpass yourself, go further, do things you've never done. Make it as so this term has just begun. Try to infuse yourself with a feeling, perhaps through music..."

So I imagine that it's really time to admit that I need to do some thinking. Why do I take pictures? What drives me to want to record and capture the visual world? What have I got to say? And, most importantly, why do I censor myself?

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My little return to music is really gaining grounds inside of my head. I'm getting back to where I was when I was studying piano, that is, analyzing everything that I hear, paying attention to the progressions, imagining a piano overlay on what I'm hearing.

I'm currently reading Aaron Copland's What To Listen For In Music. It makes for really interesting reading, giving some insight in the various elements that form a musical piece and how they affect us. Also, it's quite nice to be reading a book that was written in the late 1930s. Add to that some autumn and some jazz and it makes you feel like you're there.

Towel-Throwing

I used to have a nasty tendency to give up when things became difficult. I came to this realisation when I finally received my university transcript for the winter term. At the end of that semester, I was completely run-down and really thought that it was over. Yet another failure to add to the list. But I was wrong. I found out that I got rather smashing grades for that term (Try A- in german and A in cinema). When I told my mother, she told me straight up: "Oli, you always do that, whenever you think things are wrong you just give up".

I received that transcript about two weeks ago and the thought sat with me since then. It's true that I give up easily. I will work hard for things I care about but if I become unfocused or if I fall off-balance, I just give up. I'll try to weasel my way out of the difficult situation, accepting the doom.

At the same time though, I find that I have evolved. My behaviour is not so defeatist anymore, even though it used to be. I could list many things that I have fought for even when I thought it was over. The moving out of home/starting university thing is a nice example. At that time (about a year ago), it felt as though fate was completely against my moving out, yet I found a way and did it. I'm really glad I did fight for that, because I'm happy now.

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In 2001, about a month after being diagnosed with depression, I decided to take piano lessons. I had always been a lover of music, I had taken a little intro course to music in highschool, I was writing little tunes when I was 8 years old. I always wanted to study piano but never had the chance to. At the point where I was and being in my final year of cégep, I figured it was as good a time as any to get to it. I took it for 8 months. When we did the conclusive show for the arts program at my cégep, I played one of Satie's Gnossiennes. My piano teacher was amazed and told me that I had now proven to her that I could do anything I wanted, as long as my heart was into it.

Then I moved out to Sherbrooke and moved back to Granby four months later. I called my teacher and picked up piano again. But I was unfocused. I never practiced and then I got this crazy idea that I should learn more instruments. I ended up taking three different instruments at one: piano, saxophone, alto recorder. It didn't take long for me to just crash and start calling-in to cancel my lessons because I had not practiced or just because I didn't want to go to class. My piano teacher tried a different approach. She made me write songs and taught me some improv techniques. When spring came, we both knew that I wasn't coming back to study piano in autumn. That was in 2004.

I stopped playing music altogether and went on with other things. Rediscovered a passion for photography. Moved to Montreal to study german in university and decided, about a month after school started, that I really wanted to be a photographer. Applied to schools, got admitted in cégep, decided to go for it. During the summer, I had a recurring dream of being in photoschool and music being intricately woven in my life. Not music appreciation, music writing and playing.

I imported my keyboard from Granby during the summer but never actually touched it once. It was just there, in the corner of my room, idle.

Yesterday morning, I woke up at 4am, with an urge to play piano. I had breakfast and sat in front of the keyboard. Music just came out. A little set of four chords kept on returning no matter what I played. I toyed around for about an hour before it was time to leave for school. I was supposed to have dinner with Justin but it fell through because of him being ill and needing to seek medical attention. With my evening free, I just went training and sat the keyboard again.

Today, after class, I went to Archambault Musique and bought a book on scales, chords and arpeggios for piano. I sat at the keyboard and starting exercising myself, to relearn what I once knew and build my musical foundation from that. I am determined not to give up this time, even if it gets difficult.

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The little tune that started coming out yesterday is turning into a waltz. Looking through my book on scales, it turns out that the progression is very coherent, the last chord being the relative minor of the key in which the tune is rooted. The worktitle for it is Waltz For Someone Else.

Addiction

I am addicted to incense. Don't ask me why, but I just love burning incense in my room. However, I believe I've gone too far recently.

About two or three weeks ago I bought a 50 pack of japanese incense (Daigen-Koh, sandalwood). I finished the box tonight.

I woke up around 3am and there was an almost overwhelming smell in my room. A smell very reminescent of burnt wood, burnt furniture and stale cigarette. You can distinguish the sandalwood somewhere in this very complex fragrance if you really concentrate. It must be the buildup of the smell in the room since I've moved in it that makes it so strong and weird. But I definitely have to stop using incense for a while, until my room takes on it's normal smell again.

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I went shooting pictures yesterday afternoon. I've been consistently taking pictures in the past three days. The first two days were shots without models, yesterday was a shoot walk-around style with Justin.

I had already did a little exterior shoot with Justin, but the light was quickly fading and that lead to most of the shots being unusable because of motion blur and camera shake. Also, no matter how comfortable the person is in front of the lens, I always feel a bit clumsy around the person I'm shooting the first time I'm taking pictures of them. The subsequent times I feel a lot more at ease and oftentimes it shows in the photos.

Yesterday's session was a huge delight. We just walked around a very industrial area, talking about love, life and our respective arts. It was just very easy to take pictures, I felt extremely comfortable. In between our moments of talking there was silence. Not an ackward silence, but a very cozy silence, sometimes completed with Justin humming a song.

Photography can be quite a zen experience.

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Just before I woke up a couple of minutes ago, I was having a dream. It was a very intricate story about a girl getting married and being accused of stealing a very expensive fabric at her aunt's fabric shop. I just remember the ending, when the girl broke into the fabric shop to try to find clues to back up her theory of the cousin being the stealer of the fabric. So she broke in the store and the cousin was there, handling a pickax and menacing her, threatening to break her marriage by killing her. The mother of the cousin (i.e. the aunt) arrives and gets stabbed by the cousin. The cousin then goes for the girl but she is stopped by the aunt who was also carrying a pickax with her and managed to stick it right in her daughter's heart (despite her injuries) and killed her. I woke up when the ambulance and the police was arriving at the crime scene.

Memento

My roommate moved out of the Villa a couple of days ago. She is now getting settled in her new dwelling, with her boyfriend.

They have been together for, if I'm not mistaken, about three months. They decided to make the move when they were one month in.

Now, a lot of people say that what they did is risky, temerarious even. But I say that it's incredibly beautiful. They are going past the common knowledge, the current thinking of dis-involvement and self-reservation. They want to be together so they take steps to ensure that they will be together. They fell in love and are rightly living that love. I applaud them for that, for their courage to move forward and embrace one another and the love they have for one another.

Rock on, Anne-Marie et Guillaume!

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Anne-Marie moving out cleared up the big bedroom of the apartment. So, since I'm now living alone there, I decided to upgrade to the bigger room. In the process of moving furniture around and cleaning up, I've found a pair of underwear under my bed. Not MY underwear, but a pair belonging to François.

It was one of those moments you'd wish there was a hidden camera filming the event. I was just sweeping when I stumbled unto the underwear. At first I was puzzled and then, when I realised what it was and who it belonged to, I started laughing. A nice, genuine laugh. It's quite the memento, I have to admit. I was doing laundry at the same time I was cleaning up the rooms so I threw the pair in the washing machine. They are now perfectly clean.

Of course, I could make a plaster mould out of the underwear and then make a cast of them out of acrylic, but that would be time consuming and really worthless. So, I will send the underwear back to François with just a note saying that I found them under my bed and that they would probably be more useful to him then they could be to me. I'll also specify that I washed them so he doesn't think I pulled a practical joke on him (though, if he knows/knew me just a bit he'll know that that's not my style). I'm guessing he'll be happy to have them back...

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This morning, on my way to school, I witnessed a great act of kindness performed by a stranger. A blind man was getting out of the metro and, using his white cane, was hunting his way to the stairs. A stranger, coming from behind, took him by the shoulders and softly directed him to the stairs and then just quietly left, with the blind man back on track and going up the stairs.

Better The Devil You Know

In the last post, I was talking about the new job I was hired for. The next day, I went to the store to get the documents I needed to sign. Getting in the store, a bit of an odd feeling came over me. I went to talk to the manager, he gave me the documents to take home, read and fill-in. When I asked how many hours a week I would get, he completely changed state and became rather stern. "We don't promise hours here", he said.

I left with a real bad feeling. On my way out of the mall, I passed in front of the photo studio I always thought of applying at. Just as I walked by it I decided that it was time for me to go in. So in I went and I asked the girl at the counter the procedure to apply for an assistant job there. "Do you have any photo experience," she asked in a cold, bored voice. To that I replied that I had been shooting seriously for the past two years and that I was a first year photography student. She went from cold to completely interested, grabbed the business card of the studio, scribbled down an email and urged me to send in my resumé with a paragraph listing all my photographic experience.

Later in the day, I wanted to pass by my current job to announce that I was quitting. I was still swarmed by a bad feeling about the new job. Still, I figured that all I need in life is to move forward and that way things will fall into place by themselves. So, I went by my job and wanted to talk to the manager, but she was not working that day. I went to the assistant-manager and announced him that I was quitting. "Not you too!!," screamed he. Turns out the manager was leaving a week from that day. She was fed up (and had been for a while) with the job. I went outside and had a lenghty chat with the assistant-manager. I told him about my frustrations with the current state of the store and about the constant negativity at the job. We talked and figured things out, he offered me to always work around 20 hours a week if it was what I needed. I asked him to give me a couple of days to think about it.

I was going home that weekend. When I came back, I had taken my decision: I would keep my current job. I think I made a wise move. It's better the devil you know.

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If you pay attention to the time of this post, you'll see that it's past 3 am and I'm not sleeping. I don't really know why I have such disturbed sleep lately. I'm guessing it's stress from school and all those changes around me. Because of those recurring insomnia nights/nightmare spells I have been getting, I'm really really close to being expelled from visual language class. In 5 weeks of school, I managed to make it there on time only once. Twice I've missed class because of insomnia that lead to major oversleeping, once I've been late for the same reason and once I arrived late because there was a little party at the Villa and I went to bed too late. I will have to go and talk to my teacher before he fails me by default. All is fine and well in all of my other classes; it seems the flaking out peaks in the night between tuesday and wednesday. Hopefully I won't be kicked out of that class because that would mean having to retake it next year and thus being a year behind in the visual arts courses (it would not affect my photo classes, though).

This past wednesday, I was feeling really confused and lost. Especially after having missed yet another visual language class. When I got back to my apartment after work, I was in a really gloomy state. I went cycling and did it very intensely for 40 minutes, then went grocery shopping and called my mother while browsing the aisles. "Ma, I'm feeling confused," I said. She asked me what about and then we talked and she helped me figure things out. Some of those tips she gave me actually have helped me getting back on track. Now all that's left to do is to sort out the visual language problem.

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Yesterday (sunday) morning, I got an automated email message from an internet SMSing/friends-connection service. It was an invitation to join the service in order to keep in touch with the person who sent the invite. That message was sent to me by François...

Now, I don't know if he did that while we were together and it just happens that I am receiving the message from that service now, something like a month and a half after it ended OR if he sent it recently.

If he sent it recently, I just hope he realises how stupid a move that was. He has not manifested himself at all in the time since the end, he has not even checked the next day to make sure I had made it safely back. I left his place with a feeling that he was just relieved that he was finally freed from me and his lack of communication once that was done actually just reinforced that feeling. So, if he sent that in hopes that I would want to get in touch, he is so completely mistaken. If he has something to say to me, he should write me a real email or call me or write a letter.

So if I was right and he tried to get in touch with me that way, I just have to say: Fuck You.

One Great Day

That's exactly what I had today: one great day. It all started slowly and normally, with visual language 1 class. We did clay sculpting, working on creating textures. Today was the student integration in the school's art gallery. I had three hours between the end of my class and the integration, so I went to the coffee shop where I always go.

I had thought ahead and brought my computer with me. So at the coffee shop, I worked on a paper. I chatted with the manager who has now become a friend of mine. We talked music and I ended up burning a CD for him. He went to the backroom and burned me two CDs of music I have to discover. As I left, he hugged me. I just couldn't stop smiling.

I go to the integration. We were a lot less than they had expected. Instead of the 60 first year students they were expecting to come (60 out of 84 total first year students), we were only 15. So we all talked to one another, looking at the exhibit that was there. Then, all the teachers gave us a speech about imagemaking, about photography. The program director closed that speech with something really inspirational and motivating, telling us to go forward and never lose the passion for image that brought us there in the first places.

At 5pm was the vernissage of the exhibit that was in the gallery. It was the yearly teacher's show. Some really really great photographs were there. We got to meet some of the second and final year students. I also got to chat a bit more with another first year student, a girl who happens to be in my group. We left the show and the girl went to catch her bus. As I was walking for the metro someone pulled my backpack. I turn around and there is Emilie. We both had our evening free so we went for coffee and then went to the MACM (Museum of Contemporary Arts of Montreal). We left at 8:50, as the museum was closing.

While we were walking back to the metro, I check on my mobile: there's a message. I take the said message and it's from my roommate, telling me that the manager of the place where I had a job interview had called and to call him back, if possible before 9. I hurry and call back...

I'm hired!

That's definitely a great day.

The Fear Of Art Classes

Sometimes, I get scared of little things.

In the program I'm doing in school, it's mandatory to take a certain amount of visual arts classes. This term, I have observation drawing and visual language 1. Now, because of my flaking out in the first week and a half of school, I came late to the first visual language class and completely missed the second. I also missed my second observation drawing class.

Yesterday, though, I woke up way early to make sure that I would be on time to visual language class. I also had to drop by the school store to buy a tablet of newsprint paper. I did all of this and indeed arrived on time to class. I was rather nervous, having missed the last class and not really knowing what to expect (apart from what I had read in the course outline).

It all went very well. The class was about drawing with volumes and doing volume renderings with ink and graphite. The teacher was very motivating and I, for once, didn't feel like a complete loser taking a visual arts class.

I got out of class feeling quite hyper: I've beat my fear of visual arts classes.

I Feel Lost

I feel lost.
I feel lonely.
I'm not entirely sure why.
Just yesterday, I was in a beautiful mood.
Things must have turned sour in my sleep.

I don't really understand myself these days.
Or the state I'm in.
I have pulsions heading every way.
I'm a sinus curve.
One day is beauty, the other is gloom.
One day I'll be lifting a building. The next, I'll be falling from it.

This is recurrent, I know.
But I want to be away.
Away from myself, away from my head.
I would want to fall asleep under a tree.
Wake up cradled in a stranger's arms.
Who would disconnect me from me.
If only for a while.

Numbers and Equations; Phrases, Poems and Choruses

I'm wondering what's left, what remains when you've truly loved and then lost that love. What happens once that person holding your heart has just gone away, taking that heart with them. I'm pondering what makes one love better than another, what makes the worth of a love. Is it based on the length of time that love has existed? Does it lie in the strenght of the feeling?

And once that love inhabits you and then leaves you, what stays inside. What is it that stays true, when that love became simply a string of numbers and equations, just a series of phrases, going over and over in your head. What happens when all that's left are pictures, poems and choruses? It's like repeating the same thing over and over: it loses it's meaning. You forget the reason why there is a numbness, an emptiness. Yet, that numbness is still there. You forget why and how things happened, but the words, the songs and the pictures are there to remind you.

How does one separate oneself off of a love that never ended properly?

Everything New

Seems I succeeded at resetting my system and regaining a form of routine. I made it on time to all the rest of this week's classes. I am (genuinely) in a good mood and I've been able to sleep normally for a couple of days in a row.

Then, also, I got a new computer. A PowerBook G4, the 12 inch model. I can't express just how much I love that machine. I have always been a Mac fan and was once the proud owner of an iBook. Sadly, that iBook died in a really weird and frustrating fashion more than two years ago, just as I was in the finals period of my last year of Cégep. Since then I had been using a PC that was graciously offered by the famiglia to ease the pain of losing my friend the iBook. But that computer, as powerful as it was when I first got it, started becoming rather sluggish for all photoprocessing tasks and I have been harbouring the idea of getting a new computer. The plan was that I would get a computer for myself and hand the PC down to my mother, for her to finally step in the digital era. So, last thursday, after class, I decided to go get my electronics store fix and went to BestBuy (which is quite a long trip since it's right in the middle of the island. so, to get there, it's two different metro lines and then a bus ride). Browsing the aisles, I came upon the Mac section and saw the PowerBook 12 inch, at a ridiculously low price (like 400$ below standard price and something like 280$ below the educational price). So, I left the BestBuy with a new computer and a hugeass grin on my face.

Also, I got a call from one of the places where I had applied for a job. I'm having an interview on Wednesday. I'm excited!

And as a last uplifting fact, it seems that fall is slowly setting in. Today was sunny, featuring the kind of light one can only witness in autumn. It was windy and chilly. So that's the best thing, really.

A Good Beginning

I've been feeling rather shitty lately. Despite all my affirmations to the contrary, I didn't feel fine at all. I was numb at best, and falling apart at worst. Last week was incredibly bizarre. I was in a not-sleeping spell, or sleeping a ridiculous 3 hours each night. Having nightmares here and there. I arrived to class late twice in the first week of school, both times because my body forced me to get some sleep.

I was irritable at work and didn't want to deal with any of the customers. Just the thought of going to work was making me want to vomit.

Then, I went to my mother's for the weekend and slept like a log (a bit like how I slept when I went to my mother's right after the terrible sleepless night of leaving Quebec City). Came back here and my no-sleep began again. I felt like I was flaking out, completely.

Then, this morning, I overslept to the point of missing class altogether. So I went directly to work, feeling completely miserable.

Getting out of the metro, I saw from afar a woman that looked a lot like a former coworker of mine from the bookstore. Walking closer, I saw that it wasn't her. I started thinking about the sound advice she had given me many times before, about her way of viewing life. She was an intensely inspirational woman, my favourite coworker.

Then, walking towards work, on St-Denis, I pass in front of a restaurant. I turn around and there she is, sitting on a terrasse, having lunch with another woman. I just went to say hello and she was thrilled to see me. I was about to be late for work, so I just quickly greeted and she asked me where I worked, then saying she'd drop by during the day.

Seeing her instantly made all my gloom disappear. I had not seen her since last October, when she left the bookstore because she was moving to Sherbrooke. It felt like a sign, something telling me that things will be alright.

She did drop by a bit later. We talked for a bit and she gave me her phone number in Sherbrooke, inviting me for a coffee or for a sleep-over if I ever felt like it. Gave me some more of her relieving advice and then she went on her way. She was in Montreal only for the day, a spur of the moment thing.

So, now, it's 9:20. I'm going to bed. I know I'll sleep well tonight and that things will sort themselves out.

I might have been off to a false start, but I intend to transform this into a good beginning.

To The Anonymous Commenter...

Hi,

Reading your recent comments (the ones on the post "The Hardest Thing To Say And Do" and "Music For The State I'm In"), leads me to believe that you somehow know me.

Would you mind manifesting yourself, either by sending me an email or at least commenting AND leaving your name or a nickname or something like that. This anonymous thing is starting to freak me out.

Thank you,

Oli

Music For That State I'm In

I believe music to be my main addiction. Thus, there's always a soundtrack around each and everything I do. It's gotten to the point of even when I am not listening to music, there's something playing in my head, constantly.

I was in the metro coming back from my class this morning and I started thinking that, this past week, I've been listening pretty much to the same stuff and that maybe that was the soundtrack to the state I'm in right now. So I figure I'd make a list of albums and songs that are of particular meaning to me at the moment.

Let's start with the albums. For clarity, it's always the name of the artist/band first and then the piece second.

Albums (in no particular order)

• Blonde Redhead - Melody Of Certain Damaged Lemons
• Morcheeba - Big Calm
• Yo La Tengo - Summer Sun [particularly excellent when it's raining outside]
• Lali Puna - Faking The Books
• Moby - Hotel
• Coldplay - X&Y [and, more importantly, the following songs: Fix You, A Message, The Hardest Part, Swallowed In The Sea]
• Autour de Lucie - L'échappée belle
• Frou Frou - Details
• Julieta Venegas - Bueninvento
• Bugge Wesseltoft - Moving [more importantly, the song: Yellow Is The Colour]
• Dido - Life For Rent [See You When You're 40, This Land Is Mine, See The Sun]
• PJ Harvey - Uh Huh Her
• Yeah Yeah Yeahs - Fever To Tell [Maps, Modern Romance]
• The Fiery Furnaces - Blueberry Boat
• Sarah Vaughan - Snowbound/The Lonely Hours
• Zero 7 - When It Falls
• Interpol - Turn On The Bright Lights

Songs (in no particular order)

• The Cure - A Forest
• Aaliyah - We Need A Resolution
• Aaliyah - Loose Rap
• Alanis Morissette - Everything
• Alanis Morissette - Right Through You
• Andrea Heins - Song Without You
• Andrea Heins - Smalltown
• Nina Simone - I Put A Spell On You
• Esthero - Beautiful Lie
• Jewel - Standing Still
• Kahimi Karie - Nikon 2 [I just so love the thought of the girl being a photographer and the other guy being a gigolo, and the parallel she makes in the song]
• Jay-Jay Johanson - I'm Older Now
• Avril Lavigne - Fall To Pieces
• Laub - Losigkeit
• Sarah McLachlan - World On Fire
• Sarah McLachlan - Stupid
• Pato Fu - Eu
• The Pretenders - Back On The Chain Gang
• Incubus - 11am
• Incubus - Nice To Know You
• Imogen Heap - Hide And Seek

So I think that paints a rather good picture of my musical landscape of the moment. I figure it will speak more than I can about my state of mind of the moment...

The Hardest Thing To Say And Do

I felt something was off but I never expected that.

I really believed that this time, it was right. That it was serious. That this love was meant to last. I refused the thought of it being a summer fling or just a volatile affair. I really fell in love. Not in a mad fashion, not in any destructive way. I just felt like colours were brighter, life felt just a little bit lighter. I felt empowered by this love.

But then something felt a bit weird. I felt something had changed. At first I didn't ask him because I kept on thinking that I was probably just imagining things, just trying to find the bad in this good situation. Until two days ago, when, lying in his bed, I ended up asking him to tell me what had changed on his part.

Turns out that gut feeling was spot on. Something was indeed off. "I'm afraid of commitment," he said. "I'm scared of not being free anymore". Something about the balance of love tipping more on one side than the other.

It was 2 am then. I was supposed to leave only the day after, but considering this, taking the soonest bus back was the best idea. Next bus was at 5:30. I could have stayed there, watching him avoiding looking at me, barely saying anything. But I just couldn't. So at 2:30, I left his place to go roam the streets of a city I barely know, until the passing of the bus.

The hardest thing to say and do?
Saying "Salut, François", opening the door and walking out.

Some Thinking About Aesthetics

Summer is my worst season. I usually can't produce work in the summer. At least, nothing substantial. Years prior, I would be unable to write, unable to think about things at all during summertime. I would be able to produce work in the fall, in the winter and in sprintime, but come summer, dry season hits.

This year, I felt determined to go past that. To go past the lethargy, the lack of creativity or inspiration. My way of doing it: working more. Force myself to produce more work, to try and think differently, to take more pictures, to carry my camera with me even more than I did before. In that effect, I started taking pictures of little daily things towards the beginning of the summer. I created a set on Flickr with that work that I called "Slices: The Ongoing Project". It was about cataloguing daily happenings, but daily happenings that were outside of my normal, regular context.

Then, I went on to make a series of diptychs with pictures I had taken. Just to try new ideas, to try and force meanings, try out new aesthetics. Always in order to work around the lethargy and lack of creativity that hits every single time summer comes.

This research culminated in three photos, a series titled Crude Imaging. Three pictures of me, half-naked, taken with a slightly overexposing flash burst, then processed to make them unpleasant to view. Why? To try and force myself out of the realm of the beautiful.

In doing that, I started understanding things about my need for photography. About why it has become so primordial to me to take pictures. About why it is that I want photography to be my career, my life. Not the only thing in my life, but my main creative outlet.

I will write more on that topic later, because I'm currently sitting in an internet cafe, somewhere in Old Quebec and I am not totally sure when my (computer) time will run out.

What's important for me to specify though is this: No matter what happens, I'm in the right place. I have something to produce in the photographic realm. I am beginning school in less than a week and then will begin a three year journey that will help me comprehend all that it means. But I know it's right.

Refusal Letter/Eternal Underdog

I submitted a poetry manuscript to a publishing house (that publishes poetry only) about a year ago. It was a book that took me two years to write and correct and rework. A book that I love because it's a mark of a very intense two years. At the same time, when submitting the book, I was aware of it's limitations, namely the lack of cohesion. It was written without any defined theme or directive. Just poems, together.

My mother called me today, saying that a letter arrived for me, from the publishing house. I asked her to open it. The letter said that my manuscript had been thoroughly evaluated by the reading committee but did not win the majority of the committee over. It ends in wishing me to keep writing.

I had felt this refusal coming. In the past few weeks, I often had random thoughts stating that my manuscript had been turned down. So it didn't come as a surprise in any form. Still, I find myself a bit disappointed by the news.

I could always submit it to other poetry publishers, but I will not. When I first sent it, I told myself that if it were to be published, then all the better, but that if it were to be turned down I would just work harder on the second one and see it as a nice act of courage, that is, to have sent it in in the first place.

I have already begun work on my second poetry book. I began writing it last summer. I have a theme this time around, a directive. Just yesterday, I was rewriting and compiling, I found out that about 75% of the writing is done for the book. All I have is to work harder now.

This makes me feel like a bit of an eternal underdog. They didn't turn down the book because it was crap but because it didn't receive a majority of votes. That basically means that some of the readers liked it and others hated it. It's a middle point situation. Which is the incarnation of a long-standing fear of mine, the fear of being the constant and eternal underdog. The person who neither excels nor fails. The person whose writing is good but never stellar, the photographer who takes okay photos but never astonishes or captures attention of people.

I know a lot of that amounts to the work we put in what we do. But what if it never is enough? What if no matter how hard I work, I always end up back to the middle point?

I Hope She Made It Safely Home

I went for a beer with an acquaintance of mine. I came back home taking the last metro and then a late bus. It was about 1:30 am as I got off at the stop three blocks away from my apartment. From afar, I could see people walking in a weird fashion. I didn't pay much attention to it since there are two bars in those three blocks. But as I got closer, I noticed that it wasn't so much drunken walking as some sort of fighting going on. About a block and a half away, I just stopped and stared. It was a man and a woman. The man forcing the woman to do something. Him shaking her, throwing her to the ground, her trying to get away and him using brute force on her. I think I saw him hitting her. I was just standing there, not doing anything, just staring, with my headphones off my head. The man looked in my direction and saw me. Without thinking, I just turned around and walked back to the boulevard. I heard some form of shouting, then the sound of car doors being slammed shut and a car starting fast. I turn around to have a look and there was no one on the sidewalk, just the car driving really fast in the opposite direction.

I went to a corner store, bought something and then came out. There was a policecar parked next to the corner store. It was still there after I came out of the corner store. I didn't say anything and just walked back to my flat.

I hope what I saw wasn't what I think it was. I hope it was just a man trying to help a drunken woman in the car for her not to hurt herself. There's no way for me to be sure of that though. I feel like in the movie Blow Up, where the main character is blowing up the image of what might or might have not been a murder and, ultimately, never find out. I don't know if I could have done anything to help, to make sure the woman was safe...

I hope she made it safely home.

Words Returning

It might be just because we are getting closer to autumn, it might be due to my life gaining some form of direction, but I've been experiencing a return. The return of the words. Not the words for daily communications, no. The words to describe a different form of reality, a reality of the imaginary. Words to be used as tools, as builders.

It had been a long time since I wrote anything of note. I would want to write something, to describe what I feel or see, I would try to. Yet, I'd always end up unable to make it satisfactory. A real, profound lack of inspiration. It's been that way for more than a year. Recently, I would feel that I lost grasp of my language.

Last week, I would get little flashes. Just little words, coming together, little strings, phrases. I found it surprising and didn't really write down those little strings. And just a couple of days ago, while I was in Quebec city, sitting on François' couch, looking out the window, a precise idea took form. An idea for a short poem. It was imperious that I'd write it down. Which I did. Then, through the couple of days there, I wrote a couple more of those little poems. On the bus ride back to Montreal, I felt rather inspired and wrote some more. The words came back. Like they did before.

So I guess my writing teacher was right after all. Words will go and leave for a while, but if they've inhabited you before, they're bound to come back.

profilepicture!

Lying In The Hammock

I spent almost an hour lying in a hammock today. I'm at my mother's place, just for 2 days. It's the usual round of coming here to get some rest, to enjoy the sun, to swim and just feel like I'm on vacation. It's odd. This time last year, I felt trapped here. Now that I live someplace else, coming here is soothing.

I was lying in the hammock, right next to the pool. Sun shining through a trellis and throwing shadows in the process. I was just laying there, thinking. Thinking about the current state of my life. About all that has happened in the past year, all that happened since I moved out. About what lies ahead for me...

I came to the conclusion that I couldn't be in a better place. Looking back, I'm exactly where I want to be. I have moved out of home to study, risking to fail once more. But I didn't fail. It's been over seven months and I'm standing strong. There were some really hard times but I came through. Things always end up being for the best, this time being no exception.

In a little more than a month, I'll be beginning my studies in Photography. This is what I've been waiting for, what I've been wanting to do for a very long time. I'm almost there now.

I have a job that I really enjoy. Of course, I don't want to do this for the rest of my life. For now, though, this job is just perfect. I love the people I work with, I love my work environment. I feel good there.

I share an apartment with a really great girl. We both moved in from Granby. We both adapted to the city, together. We shared the times that passed and surely we'll share the times that are yet to come. Through all of this, I'm certain that I have made a friend for life.

I'm in love. I'm in love with someone who's in love with me too. With someone who makes everything seem sunny, who makes me feel incredibly good about myself. A person bringing cinematic moments in my life.

I was lying in the hammock and it dawned on me. My life is great. I wouldn't want it any other way.

That's Buttah

I work in a cosmetics store. Since our products bear a rather unconventional appearance, we're often asked by the customers what a specific product is and/or what it does.

Yesterday, I was in a particularly chipper mood. I started imagining the same kind of scenario happening in a grocery store. Here's a little dialogue featuring a Salesperson (S) and a Customer (C).

C- Sorry, Sir, what's that?
S (in his best New York accent)- That's buttah...
C- Ooh, buttah?
S- Yes. You spread it on toast or you can use it to cook a nice meal.
C- And what about that thing here?
S- That's produce...
C- Ooh?
S- Yes, produce. You use it to make salads
C- Is that so? How lovely is that!

Needless to say, I kept on giggling and made my other coworkers laugh with that. And now, when I'm asked the same question 50 times in a day, I just have to remember the grocery store scenario to keep that smile on my face.

Notes Of Edith Piaf

There's this moon that keeps on shining. From the night we were sitting on the ledge by the river, it has been present. The night we walked about your city and the night after, when I took the bus ride home. Even tonight, venturing outside, I'm greeted by this moon, so beautiful.

There are those butterflies that are flying about my stomach. When a thought of you comes, when I see a picture of you or a picture of us, together. When I hear your voice on my answerphone. When I'm lying right next to you, the butterflies are there.

There's this feeling. Triggered by notes of Edith Piaf or Jane Birkin. The feeling of something different, of a beginning, of something new.

I'm happy.

Inspiration Hole

En direct de la Villa Johnné

This is a gratuitous plug of a new endeavour Anne-Marie and I started. A blog, entitled En direct de la Villa Johnné (Live at Villa Johnné), that has a single focal point in mind: Relationships.

If you speak french, visit it, knock yourself out, indulge and do come back for more

En direct de la Villa Johnné

beijos,

-Oli

Random Rambling

I wonder how much time a month I spend just staring into the vacuum while in the public transit system...

Classifying Former Instances Of Love

If you go back far enough on this blog, you'll read little stories about a guy I always called G. His real first name is Gilbert. I will use that name throught the rest of this post in order to prevent confusion with another person whose first name begins with G.

I had met Gilbert online something like a year and a half ago. We chatted for about 6 months and then, last summer, finally met for real. I fell in love. He had just moved to Montreal and I was still living in Granby. We managed to see one another pretty much once a week for all of August. Then September came, we couldn't see one another, things degraded, he finally broke-up by phone in November (after months of being elusive and not telling me what was going on).

Sometime after, but before I moved to Montreal, he started talking to me again on MSN. On and off, he'd come online, chat me up about some random things and always disconnect abruptly.

In the same timeframe when Benoit left me, Gilbert came to the shop where I work, saying he was looking for a gift for a friend of his. I showed him around the store, he bought some bath product and left. He kept on coming online to talk to me, never really saying anything important or interesting but always questionning me about my relationships. Having learned that I had been dumped and that I was intending to stay alone for a bit, he wrote me something like "Good, you'll finally get to reset your karma" and then proceed to write some stuff about his new boyfriend. It was always that pattern. He'd come online, ask me how I'm doing, if I'm seeing anyone (and always seeming relieved that no, I'm not seeing anyone) and then start talking about his boyfriend, about how he's glad to have someone around that he's comfortable with so he "can concentrate more on the other spheres of his life".

He came to the store again, about 2 weeks ago. I didn't really want to see him. He was with two friends of his, introduced me to them, then told me he was coming in to buy a shampoo (that I had recommended to him the time prior and that he finally bought, only he bought it at the Quebec City store). He grabs the shampoo, tries to make conversation with me (but I'm staying incredibly cold) and then leaves.

Early last week, I came back from spending time in Granby, soaking up the sun and swimming. As I was processing the photos from a photoshoot I had done there, he comes online again. For some reason, I had a feeling he would. Then he starts talking to me. Same routine. Greetings, how am I doing, am I seeing anyone, relief that I am not, anything new?. Then, he tells me he got a new bed. I congratulate him on that and wish him good sleep. To this he replies: "well, it's not so much the sleep but the fact that now [his new boyfriend] can come sleep over if he wants..." (yes, he even went as far as doing suspension marks after his sentence. This was it. Then he says he has something urgent to do and that he's leaving. Conversation ended like this:

-Why do you talk to me at all, Gilbert?
-I don't know, Olivier
-Because it seems that, everytime you come online, you always manage to plug in your new boyfriend and then you disconnect abruptly
-Well, sorry, I hadn't noticed I did that. I guess I can just stop talking about [his new boyfriend] or just stop talking to you altogether.
-Whatever
-OK

He disconnected. I erased him off my list. I didn't block him (but I will if he comes to talk to me again).

Yesterday, I felt bad about that. I don't like passing for an asshole. I was thinking of writing him an email, explaining exactly why I do not want to talk to him or see him at all. Then, I decided I just should leave it as is. Why go on and write to someone that I still have feelings for them if that's most probably what they just want to hear. It feels like he was talking to me just to get the feeling that someone is stirred by him. I don't want to give him that. So this will be it. From a summer to another summer, chapter closed.

Maybe that's what I need in order to get a fresh start. To classify the former instances of love. And now that Gilbert's case is closed, it's time to classify Benoit...

An Array Of Thanks (in a quiet, discreet, subdued way)

I am rather uninspired to write anything lenghty or profound. There's not all that much happening in my life these days.

I wanted to write a little thank you note to various people, for various reasons. I thought I would do it here.

Bob: Merci pour le long commentaire sur mon dernier post, ça m'a fait du bien d'être remis en contexte. Faudrait réellement que l'on trouve le moyen d'aller prendre un café ensemble la prochaine fois que je suis à Granby...

Ryan: Thanks for all the comments on my photographs, your suggestions and critique. I really, totally appreciate it. Also, thanks for commenting on my blog and actually taking the time to read this.

Anne-Marie: Merci pour les encouragements, les coups de pied au derrière, les jokes, les discussions, "Dancing With The Stars", le partage d'appart, etc. Puissance Villa Johnné!

Renato: Obrigado pelas lições de português! (and thanks for correcting me when I make mistakes. I'm pretty sure that it'll pay off fairly soon)

And thank you to all those reading this blog or taking time to look at my photos on Flickr. Thank you all who make my daily life what it is. Thanks to friends for sticking by me, to my family for being what it is.

(there, we all gotta be thankful at one point or another, no?)

A Response So Fast

Tomorrow, it'll be a week since I started taking medication again...

My first depressive episode took a long time to set itself. In early 2001, I started losing all interest for things. Slowly, life became darker and darker. I didn't really know what to do. I had dropped out of school and was working almost full-time in a videostore, doing shifts from 5 to midnight. It was planned that I was going back to school in autumn of that year. As the year progressed and summer came, I found that I enjoyed nothing. I was shying away from friends, always feeling rejected and paranoid. Then autumn came. I became almost mute at home. I found I had a hard time speaking, I had nothing to say. At school, I couldn't focus. I didn't know what was wrong with me. It escalated to the point where I felt a sort of crawling in my head. I wanted to scream and rip myself open. Yet, no one ever noticed a thing. Friends said I looked really energetic and focused. I just didn't understand.

One day, at school, I had decided that it was enough. I was walking up the stairs to the third floor in order to start inspecting what would be a nice, efficient way to jump out and crash in the parking. Arrived to the third floor, I saw a friend of a friend. She just said to me: "Oli, you are sitting down and telling me what's wrong." I just started crying. She told me: "you can get help you know." That shook me up so much. Someone I didn't really know actually knew how I was feeling.

I left school and walked to the hospital, where my mother works. I entered her working room and she immediately became pale. I motionned her outside of the room and I just said: "mom, I'm not fine" and started crying again. She cried too, telling me she had seen it for months and didn't know how to approach me with it.

I went to a clinic, waited for hours, ended up seeing the doctor that was on guard that day. He didn't really seem to believe that I wasn't feeling well. He set an appointment with the emergency psychiatrist at the hospital for the next morning. I went home, tried to sleep, half succeeded. The next morning, I go to the hospital, wait, get to see the emergency psychiatrist. I get the usual interview, she prescribes antidepressants and sets an appointment for me to be followed by her.

It turned out that this psychiatrist was quite homophobic. She was positive I was having a major depressive episode until I mentionned I was gay. From that point on, she tried to make me say that I actually liked girls and was denying it, which was causing my breakdown. She also accused me of faking, just for attention. After a couple of sessions, she told me to come back a week of two before my prescription ends, to decide for a final plan. Turns out I couldn't get an appointment and I was forced to stop taking the medication abruptly. I got quite a bad case of withdrawal (just google "Paxil withdrawal" to get a nice idea of what it was like). Finally got an appointment for a last session with the psychiatrist-from-hell. She was angry at me and told me to just stop thinking about life too much, that way I'd stop wasting my time and hers and I would be happier. That was in June 2001.

Summer passed, I was not really balanced, but I made it through nonetheless. The meds had helped a bit, I could at least focus and function. School began again and about a month in, I relapsed. After a couple of weeks I knew it was wrong. I had lost focus, I wanted to sleep all the time, I didn't enjoy things, I felt frustrated. The whole thing.

My mother managed to get an appointment for me with our family doctor. He interviewed me and actually believed what I was saying. Prescribed me medication again (a different one) and proceeded to follow me for a couple of sessions. That was a friday. The following sunday, my mother took me for a car ride. We went to a beautiful small town about 40 minutes from where we lived. I had never been there. We walked, then went for a coffee in the cutest coffee shop. We took our coffee outside, on the terrasse, on a windy day of october. I caught myself smiling and actually talking. Then my mother said something that I'll always remember: "Oli, I think you're coming back!" A couple of days after, I was indeed almost fully back. Wondering if this was normal, my mother asked the pharmacist she works with if it's standard to get a response so fast to that medication. The pharmacist answered that yes, indeed, if the patient taking that medication was to be responsive, he would most probably start feeling better within 72 hours.

I took that medication for a year, then, with my doctor, we decided that it was time for me to stop taking it. It all happened very smoothly. I had recovered, quite incredibly. That was in June 2003.


Thankfully enough, this time again, I responded quite fast to the medication. Two days after I was already feeling better. Right now, pretty much a week in, I am almost fully back.

I thought a lot this week about what it all meant, about why I need to take a little yellow pill for me to function without the crawling in my head and the darkness covering everything. I realised that it was alright, that it didn't make me a weaker person or a bad human being. That if that's what it takes, then it's worth it.

And that life is much better when I'm actually able to smile for real.

Butterflies/The Great Big Step

I went to Granby last saturday night, to spend an evening with my mother. I needed to talk about what's happening, about what I've been fearing. I needed to establish a plan with the person who was constantly there when the darkness came back. To talk about it, we did. I came back to Montreal the next morning actually having hope of things getting better.

The plan was for me to go to the clinic on tuesday morning (as it was my first whole day off) and explain the whole thing.

Yesterday, I felt very very happy. A bit too happy. It's usually a sign that I will dip down again when I get a sudden burst of elation and energy. This morning, I overslept and missed portuguese class. I woke up feeling totally lost and empty, wanting more than anything else to have a car run over me instead of just getting on with life. So I modified the plan: I would go to the clinic today, not wait any longer.

I go there around 10am. The morning is already full, I'm told to come back 2 hours later, which I do. I get there, wait 2 hours and finally get to talk to the doctor. I was fearing this. I actually was scared when I knew that it would be my turn soon. My turn comes, I'm called in the office.

Once in, doctor introduces himself, shakes my hand. Motions me to sit down and asks me what brings me there. I take a deep breath and I begin telling the whole story. I explain everything matter of factly. He asks me a couple of questions, I reply. Takes my blood pressure, checks for other things. He writes me a prescription for the medication I was last on and tells me to come back in two weeks, to check on if everything is working, if the dosage is right, if I'm tolerating it well. I feel I'll be in good hands. That, in itself, is a total relief.

I called my mother while walking to the drugstore, to update her on what is happening. She seemed relieved too. Now, it's diagnosed and I will be followed. It means the great big first step has been taken.

I'll be okay soon.

I Don't

I don't want to annoy anyone with this.
I don't want to make it so my family cannot sleep at night.
I don't want to come off as a drama queen.
I don't want to repeat myself.
I don't want to be redundant.
I don't want to be needy, heavy, difficult.

But I'm unwell.

I don't want to come to terms with the fact that I will always have that dark cloud right above my head.

I don't want to be constantly unhappy.
I don't want to be ungrateful.
I don't want to be grumpy.
I don't want to panic.
I don't want to be alone.
I don't want to be with anyone.
I don't want to sleep.
I don't to be constantly tired.
I don't want to feel that my future is always so far ahead.
I don't want to forget that in 2 months time I'll be doing what I've been wanting to do for a very long time now.
I don't want to be one of those people who evade their own selves through something external.
I don't want to push people away.
I don't want to let anyone in.
I don't want to constantly wonder where I belong, if I'll ever belong anywhere.
I don't want to feel this crawling inside my head.
I don't want to have this rollercoaster inside.

I don't want to worry anyone with this.
I don't want my mother and my sister to not be able to sleep.
I don't want to ruin any friendships because of the way I'm feeling.
I don't want to break off anything.

I don't really want to
But I think time is ripe for me to admit
That I will need help.

Again.

Unsent

iTunes is always set to shuffle all the songs in my library.
Today it's rainy outside, grey skies, wind. The most beautiful weather.

I am sitting in front of my computer and iTunes just started playing Unsent (the song by Alanis Morissette). This has got me thinking about someone I left a week and a half ago.

I had met him through the internet. We went for a beer and ended up chatting for 7 hours straight. Then, he accompanied me to see Monade's concert in Montreal, as I was going alone and he knew about Stereolab. We had dinner before, then went to the concert (where I just could not stop grinning and smiling, being so happy to see one of my favourite acts up close and personal), then went for a beer and chatted again until 2 am. He dropped me off home and I kissed him.

And so began a bit of a relationship. I would see him, we would call one another or just chat on MSN. Things were great. I even did a photoshoot with him. I was glad to have found someone so interesting to spent time with.

Then, one tuesday afternoon, while I was working, Benoit came to see me at work. I didn't expect that. He brought me back my CDs and a book I had lent him. Told me some stuff that I honestly don't remember because I was just so affected. I could hardly breathe, I was shaking, my heart was beating like I had just ran for miles. His visit lasted five minutes and, for the rest of that day, I felt terribly unwell.

I started wondering why I was so shaken, why it had affected me so much. I kept on seeing the new person, but something was wrong. It took me a couple of days to understand.

It finally hit me: I need to be alone. I can't begin a relationship if I'm still recovering from the past one. I can't begin a new chapter without completely finishing the one prior.

A week and a half ago, I went with the new man for a chat on a terrasse, as we often did. Then we took a walk. At the Old Port, I started telling him about my need to be alone. Thus began the breakup process. In a sense, it was the most peaceful breakup I have ever experienced. After that, I was about to take the metro, but no, he drove me home anyway. I got out of the car and he told me something incredibly bittersweet, along the lines of "you should take my disappointment as a compliment". Two days later, we came on an agreement to delete one another from our MSN lists, just for the meantime. For him to heal and reflect on what had happened. I understand that need and respect it.

It's been a week since that last MSN conversation. And upon hearing that Alanis Morissette song, I felt compelled to write a little something about him. About that beautiful relationship that I just wasn't ready for. About this great great guy and beautiful soul, the person I could listen to for hours on end. About an incredibly smart, witty and beautiful man.

If you're reading this, I just hope that you are well. Prends bien soin de toi et merci pour tout, vraiment tout.

The Greatest Family

Yesterday, I wrote the Quick List 2. I wasn't feeling well. Not feeling well at all, actually. A little after posting that list, I called my mother.

My sister picked up the phone and instantly noticed I wasn't well. We talked for two minutes and she said they would call me back in order for me not to pay long distance fees. They called back, this time my mother was on the phone. She began with: "Apparently, you're feeling so-so, Oli?" I broke down and started crying. I didn't really know where all of this was coming from, but I was crying. I just talked to her about how I was feeling empty, how I was missing them, how I felt sad, how I was stressed and disappointed. She was calming, soothing, as she usually is. Gave me advice, told me to hang tight, that things would get better as long as I keep moving forward. I had an overflow of emotion that just had to get out, so it seems. The peak of weeks worth of accumulated things. We hung up some fifteen minutes later. I was still crying.

I sat on the couch and kept crying. Then, I just took a deep breath and thought: "fine, now that that's out of my sister, I gotta move". I got up, went to my room, put all my dirty clothes and my bedsheets together and went to the laundromat. Did all my laundry, then came back. I went on a cleaning frenzy: I tidyed up my room (which looked like a disaster zone, it was awful), then did the dishes (that had accumulated for days), then brought all the recycling downstairs.

I started feeling a lot better, like I could breathe again. My mother called back, to ensure that I was feeling a bit better and that I had gone and done my laundry (I had told her about the sorry state of my cleaning). Wished me a good night and ensured me that things would be fine, that everything would get better.

I went to bed at 10 last night. Slept until 10 this morning. I guess I needed it. I am fresh this morning. I know things will improve but I also have to accept that there will be rough spots along the way. I also know that I am not alone.


I have the greatest family.

Quick List 2: I'm Sick Of...

I'm sick of...

• having things look like they will improve only to have something else crash on me
• feeling talentless
• feeling useless
• feeling futureless
• this emptiness inside that makes me feel useless, talentless and futureless
• having to constantly worry about my finances
• not having enough work hours to pay for everything and thus, worrying about my finances
• not being able to find stability in my life
• the current state of my life
• feeling lonely and yet, not being able to open myself up to the people who open themselves to me
• this drama
• never finding one thing that would constantly making me happy
• shifting
• coming back to the shifts whenever I am in a rut
• wondering if I have chosen the right path
• not knowing what to do when I need to make changes in order to see the state of my life improve
• always being the odd one out

New Profile Picture 

Gearing Up For New

I went to register for my autumn program last week. It's official. Come end of august, I'll be studying Photography, in order to make it my career, my life.

In other fronts, things are getting better. I'm seeing the light. I have stopped being worried about my life, about my finances and about my possible relapsing. My life will be fine, I just have to remember that I'm the one steering the wheel. My finances will get better, but I'm a student, it figures I have to be poor at times, no?

And then, there's the relapsing. After a lof of thinking and talking about it, I figure there's not much I can do about it. I know what are my signs, I know what indicates an impending relapse. But I can't avoid it from happening and I have to accept that it might happen. Worrying about it is not going to help or solve the problem.

So I'm gearing up for new. I'm ready for changes, new beginnings, cleaner moods.

An Aftertaste Of Surveillance

Of course, this could all be a coincidence. A nice, very well orchestrated fluke. Although, I doubt it is...

Last weekend, an ex of my ex (who also happen to be a close friend of his) came to the store where I work. He wanted to say hello, see how I was doing. I thought it was really nice of him. I was quite glad to see him again, as he always seemed to be a really kind person. So we talked for a bit and then he left. I didn't really think twice about it.

But then, today, my ex's best friend happened to walk in the store. My first thought was to go and find some chore to do in the back, to avoid him. On second thought, I went straight to him and said hello. He didn't really seem shocked to see me there, but still blurted out unconvincingly that he "didn't remember I worked there". So he ended up asking me how I was doing, a question to which I replied I was doing fine. Then I asked him how he was doing. He told me about his new work and intership and everything and then reciprocated, asking me what I was up to, in the field of studies. So I told him about my portuguese lessons and then studying photography. He was looking increasingly bored and looked away all the time, then, just said something along the lines of: "yeah, that's nice, buh-bye".

He didn't leave the store right away but kept browsing, with a friend of his. Oftentimes I turned around and saw he was staring at me. He left a couple of minutes after.

Now, I have to mention that that friend of my ex never liked me. I felt that he was threatened by me and always acted weird around me. My ex and him were really close friends, sometimes it felt just a bit too close of a friendship. I often wanted to ask Benoit about the whole matter, about if they had been together before. I never did ask. I probably should have.

Thinking about that also had me thinking about how Benoit seemed to be researching the impossible, looking for a lover that can never quite exist, a construct of his most profound fantasy. Of course, nobody can mesure up to that fantasy. At the same time, his best friend appeared to me to be the closest match to that fantasy of his.

I came to those two little conclusive thoughts on my way back home:

1. Benoit and his best friend should probably just get together, once and for all.
2. If Benoit happens to be checking up on me, he definitely should cut that out. Either speak to me directly or just avoid me altogether. No proxy, no sentinels, nothing.

Also, I remembered today that Benoit still has a CD of mine, Stereolab's Dots And Loops LP. I'd really like to have my CD back...

Mood Uppers

I've been meaning to write a little blog entry titled "Tidbits of Happiness" for a bit. I never really had time to do it though and then, my mood went down a couple of floors.

Today, mood went back up though. So I figured it was as good a time as any to finally write about little things that bring me joy, along with some mood uppers I had the pleasure to experience today.

Tidbits of Happiness (not an exhaustive list)

• Having my hair flap about when there's wind blowing
• Rain, in all forms (Walking in the rain, listening to jazz music in the living room with the rain falling outside, etc)
• Waking up really early in the morning and just getting out
• Listening to music in the Metro and have the surroundings conform to the sounds and the beats
• Dancing at work
• Walking back home from the Metro station (either 30 or 40 minutes, depending on which station)
• Making eye contact with people

Mood Uppers (not an exhaustive list!)

• Witnessing random acts of kindness performed by strangers
• S U N
• Knowing there's friends around when you need them
• Noticing that my subconscious mind has just saved my ass
• Going running
• Grabbing a smoothie at Liquid Nutrition on Drummond St. (fave one: Blueberry Burst)
• Seeing proof that some people in this world actually believe in me and my work

Quick List 1: I Look Forward To...

• my portuguese lessons (next monday!)
• studying photography (next august/september)
• receiving an admission reply from Concordia University, so I'll know whether I'll be studying photo in Cégep or University
• the summer (yes, quite odd coming from me)
• taking driving lessons and getting my driver's licence (in my second year of photo studies)
• travelling (don't know when, but it can't be soon enough)
• meeting new people, making new friends, discovering other views of the world
• having some money leftover for me to go clothes shopping (because I am currently on a rotation of four shirts and three pairs of pants, none making my ass beautiful)
• having some money
• being kissed
• meeting friends from abroad I have not seen in a long time
• running a marathon (still some time to go before I'm actually ready for it, but it's a goal!)
• being kissed again (preferably by the same person who will have kissed me three lines ago and having that person kiss me again for quite some time. that would rock)
• leaving for a week or two on a to-nowhere-in-particular trip, just going somewhere and taking pictures in the process
• photoshooting this summer the stuff that's been in my head for a year now
• the next time I'll see my family again

Je transgresse

Je transgresse ici plusieurs règles personnelles. Je vais écrire ceci en français. Je ne me censurerai pas.

Je voudrais tellement que les choses soient différentes présentement. J'aimerais ne jamais t'avoir rencontré, Benoit. J'aimerais ne pas être dans l'état où je suis. Je voudrais ne pas me sentir vide. Je voudrais ne pas me sentir ridicule d'être encore chaviré par ton départ. Je voudrais ne pas me sentir désagréable, inadéquat, inopportun et inimportant.

Je voudrais vivre ailleurs, je voudrais connaître autre chose. Je voudrais que le temps passe plus rapidement, que l'été arrive, que ma vie change encore. Je voudrais ne plus être instable, je voudrais ne plus m'intéresser aux gens qui ne s'intéressent tout simplement pas à moi.

Je voudrais traverser tout ceci et me réveiller en étant bien demain matin. Je voudrais ne pas être en train de souhaiter que ma vie soit comme avant, je voudrais ne pas avoir l'impression de basculer. Je voudrais ne pas avoir à toujours me donner un coup de pied au derrière pour me lever le matin parce que, relativement souvent, je me réveille en ayant l'impression de n'avoir rien à donner, rien à offrir, rien à apporter.

Je voudrais sentir que je compte pour quelqu'un. Car, présentement, je n'y crois plus vraiment...

Ich kann nicht schlafen

Yeah, I can't sleep. I just woke up at 4 am, a little confused, out of a dream I don't really remember. Now, I just can't go back to sleep but that's nothing worrying, it's my usual way. I have slept just so much at my mother's house this weekend that it's expected for me not to be able to sleep well for a bit after.

I went back home last weekend. Last time I went back was a month before, for my birthday and it had only been a quick visit. I went home for dinner then came back to Montreal to sleep. Last time I went back to really spend a weekend was almost two months ago. This weekend I saw my uncles and aunts, all asked what I was up to, what I was doing, how I was managing in school, how I was managing through life. Pretty much everyone avoided the love topic, my mother having already told them about my breakup. However I didn't avoid the love topic when talking with my mother. Getting her point of view face to face on what had happened was reassuring, soothing. She gave me some sound advice, the kind only a mother can give.

I realised that I was ripe for a little hometown trip. The city had started getting to me. I had begun experiencing the kind of loneliness you only can feel when in the city. Also, I needed just some time to step back from everything. April 2005 will have been one hellish month. I know, though, that there's better days to come, that this is a new month and it will bring some new, grand, exciting things. I'm hopeful. Or maybe I'm just naive.

I'm giving up on love for a while. I don't know if I should be writing 'I'm giving up on romance' instead, because love is such a vast paradigm. I don't know. It's romantic love I'm giving up on. I am not letting go of the love I have for my family and friends. I guess I'm just shutting down this part of me that could love another person. Just for a while.

It's 5 am and I'm staring at this screen. I'm having one of those moments. I was fine before going to bed. Now I feel sad again. I don't know how to deal with this feeling. Time will do it's thing, if I believe what everybody has been telling me.

Had I a driver's licence and a car I would just get out and drive away. Go far, see the coast, leave this sadness behind. Find myself just for a while. See the sunrise and spend the day waiting for it to set. Good thing I can't drive, 'cause that would be just fleeing my problems.

Love (or the lack thereof). The simplest thing in life can sometime be so difficult, so hard, so painful.

Facing Reality

It's raining today. Pouring, actually. This week has been a mix of sun and rain. This weather is all very cinematic.

I've been sort-of dating someone for a bit now. We agreed to get to know one another, to go slowly but communicate on what's happening along the way. That's fine, excellent even. However, today, I had a moment of clarity: it won't work out with that person. Not to say I'm repelled or lacking interest in that person, because I am completely interested.

A friend of mine (G, actually), sent me an album a couple of days ago. Télépopmusik's latest, Angel Milk. This puppy has been playing almost non-stop since I received it. It's an album that's quite peculiar, it sounds a lot like a breakup album, being shattered and picking up the pieces. It also kinda fits my mood of this week.

Something is odd in my close universe at the moment. My best friend's boyfriend vanished and has been missing for a week now; my father was admitted to the hospital for a serious respiratory problem (I heard he's back to his home now); a lot of my friends are having breakdowns. And I am not completely over my breakup.

It's not Benoit I'm missing. In fact, I don't really want to see his face at all. Later, yes, I'll want to know how he is, but not now. Also, I think it's not the relationship I'm missing. It feels like a little something broke inside of me. I feel lonely, a bit lost, a little less motivated at everything. I have retreated just a little farther into my own mind. I recognise this state, I felt pretty much the same way last autumn, when G broke-up with me.

It's funny, no? The G-and-I relationship was spread over months but we didn't see much of one another during that time. Yet, I was really shaken when it ended. I was hoping on it getting better when I would finally arrive to Montreal, I was, everyday, knowing that the time until my move was getting closer. Alas, it had to break before. I fell into the state I currently am in, retreated into my mind. I listen to music and I imagine stuff, I visualise it happening into everyday life. I guess it's just an extension of melancholy, some poetic dream-living.

I've been in that state for a moment. I recognised it's onset sometime last weekend. I was coming home from work, in the bus, and suddenly felt distantiated from myself. I was seeing people in the street and I wished I were somewhere else, a couple of months back in time. I was hoping it wouldn't be that state but now there's no denying it.

It's not that it's unabling me from working, going on with my daily life. I'm fine. I am even almost sure that people don't notice it. But I do.

And right about now I'm wondering if, finally, at one point during my life someone will fall for me and me for them. I'm wondering why it is that when I love people they end up throwing me away. I have loved G, honestly, sincerily. I have loved Benoit completely too. We all know what happened both times...

Beginnings Anew

As is almost usual now, things shift quickly. Sunday I was really down, missing B, wondering what was going to happen next...

Monday morning, as I woke up, I felt the mourning period was over. Just like that, not even a week and feeling all rinsed fresh of this past relationship's toxins. It's funny how things change quickly, isn't it. I really feel that I'm through with this. I'll rehash a crappy metaphor I used months ago, but again it's the intangible hand playing the drum machine, everything sequenced as it should be and quantized to perfection. That's precisely what's happening, I feel.

School was beginning again Monday. I went to my first class and after the whole cuisine of evaluation was done, the prof was showing videos that she was going to show again next course. I just grabbed my stuff and left. Took the metro to Jean-Talon station and went walking. I stopped by this music store I had been wanting to visit for ages now and browsed. I feel the urge to play guitar again. I left the store and just walked. Walked through the Little Italy, listening to music, with the sun shining brightly. It felt good, it felt right. I passed by the photolab and got my processed slides. It's been some time since I shot new material. Sat down at the lightbox and was so pleasantly surprised: A lot of the work was actually good! Very vivid colours, nice textures. It was infinitely pleasing to realise that I have not lost my photographic abilities.

It truly feels like a new beginning, a fresh start. The only page in my life that had not been yet turned finally ended up turning. That's excellent.

The Raw

First and foremost: To all of you readers (all three of you), I'm really sorry about this thing becoming the Daily Diary Of A Dumpee. I'm using this as a vent hole, like I always have. Only now I'm updating more regularly, because I really have stuff I need to get off my chest...

I need to be hugged. To be hugged and told that everything will be okay, everything will turn out alright in the end. Part of me already knows that fact (refer to previous post), but when emotions take over the cold facts just drown. This insane thought keeps running in my head: what happens if there just isn't any more love left for me in this world? Does anybody care anyway?

I'm getting memory flashbacks from when I was living in Sherbrooke. That dreadful four months. I was constantly alone then. Between the sheer tension and passive agressiveness of my then flatmate and my alienation towards the University and the arts program I was then following, my life was really hollow. I was really wondering about my worth then. That autumn in Sherbrooke was following the summer when I met B for the first time. That summer I could barely breathe. I wasn't sleeping, I wasn't eating. In Sherbrooke I was still recovering from that. I remember in early September B had sent me an email, our first contact since the day I broke the communication. His email had troubled me so much I just grabbed my MD player and went walking. That night I walked for two hours.

I'm remembering that summer before I moved to Sherbrooke, all the time I spent visiting B, spending time with him, hoping he'd finally fall for me. It was always the same pattern, I'd be with him and all of life was shining brighter. I would later leave and cry out the whole water content of my body. Once, I just got on the bus back to Granby, started listening to Coldplay and cried all the way home. Bus was full but I didn't care. It had to get out. I remember sitting on a bench with B, in the park next to his apartment, just looking at the lake. We would sit there not saying anything and I could feel just how sad he was over his past love. I remember the first night we were sleeping together (I had missed my bus home because he was showing me a peculiar alleyway on the way to the bus station). That night we spent a countless amout of time just drawing figures on each other's backs.

I feel like I'm currently alienating all of my entourage being this way. Like I'm being a sappy, pathetic worm, wiggling my way through. But I'm not OK. I know that I'll end up being fine and that it won't always be like today, but at the moment, I'm not fine. Tonight, I really didn't know what to do. Listening to music didn't do any good, I didn't want to read, I tried watching television but nothing good was on. I didn't feel like wasting time on the internet. I ended up staring at the ceiling, twirling my hair. Finally I did my laundry and now here I am, typing all the random thoughts that came through my head while waiting for my clothes to dry.

Right now, I hope for better days. I want my life to come back to it's normal state, without me being all over the place and oscillating like a sinus curve.

Clean Slate

Yesterday I really crashed. It was no kidding when I wrote that I felt like a trainwreck: I really did.

But then, this morning I woke up feeling really light. Light and a little relieved. Had breakfast, took a shower, got dressed... Leaving my flat, something dawned on me: I know I'll be okay. It's one thing to say it, but to realise it is another altogether. But I am certain I'll be fine. Of course, I am not over this at all, but the worst, most intense part is behind me.

During my break at work I called my mother, to tell her that I was feeling much better and to assure her that I would be fine. She started crying on the phone. Not because she was sad that I'll be okay but because she had been really worried and so had been my sister. Since those dark years where I was really depressed all the time and couldn't function, my family is always worried that I'll fall back into depression or want to kill myself. But there's no danger, I'm not that fragile, gloomy puppy anymore. I just wished they'd actually believe me when I say that so then next time something happens my family will be able to sleep at night.