Alright, I only write on this blog on occasion. In fact, it's even less than that. I only write when I have something to say. Thankfully, no one checks this blog except my grandmother, and recently, my theatre friends. Well, maybe. Who knows. I'm just saying this stuff because it means more to me if I spout it out.
I don't like people.
I mean, I try. Honestly, I really do. They are capable of beautiful wonderful things. Perhaps I've just seen a shitty side of them. But they just seem to go out of their way to fuck with me. And when they don't, they simply ignore me instead. I don't understand how someone can be sitting in front of a screen, spout some cruel words, and think that there isn't a person on the other end. Or how they can despise you just for who you are. It's just saddening to me. I try to see the best in them, but they just take away my hope.
That's the sad side. Good news, there is a happy side.
I may not like people, that crowd of semi-anonymous strangers, but a person is pretty wicked. Any person is usually better than people. They choose me and say, "Hey Graham, you seem decent." and we operate under the understanding that we are both individuals looking for love and attention. I like people, and I'm finding more and more people who like me. Yay growing up.
So, in keeping with the moral of the story, if you don't like this, good for you. Go to a different website. But don't be a stupid ignorant member of the crowd that is people. If you liked this, thanks. If you are moved enough to write a comment, even better. But by reading this, and not being a douche, you've preserved some of the faith I have in people.
(Whiney and teenaged enough for you?)
Saturday, December 31, 2011
I feel the need to remind anyone who may read this, I'm writing for a very select audience.
The only people who follow this blog are my grandmother, my sister, and my aunt. While I know my sister doesn't check blogs anymore, my aunt and grandmother may check this blog on occasion and read with the greatest of interest.
Teresa, Bernice. You might want to stop reading right now. I'm not held responsible if you go running and screaming.
I'm really interested in cross-dressing. Like, a lot. I know that I've always liked the idea. Watching ms. doubtfire, tootsie and dame edna always made me really happy inside. And seeing as I'm about to have my own source of income, I'm probably going to be buying some womens clothes, a wig, and (obviously) a fake pair of breasts.
I don't know when or where I would do it. I'm just thinking it would be really nice to go out for tea on the weekend, sit with my legs crossed by a window, and write. If someone nearby says hi, I would introduce myself as Lucy, and chuckle on the inside. But I would really enjoy playing dress up, and being a chick.
I ask myself what this means, but I really can't find an answer. Maybe I'm trying to escape, but from what I have no idea. I just want to do this. Maybe I'll hate it, but I can only know if I try.
Thursday, November 10, 2011
So, I'm pretty sure the only person who reads this is my grandma
I might as well talk to you through this roundabout means of communication because lets face it, its more interesting then just sending you a message. I mean, being efficient, really?
I don't think acting is my path. It's not quantifiable, I can't just play anymore. Everything needs to be done to get better, but theres no way to know whether you are. It's becoming work, and I don't think I turn my favourite childhood activity into a profession. Acting is a wonderful pass time, but as far as life is concerned, it feels too crazy for me to handle.
I'm really feeling it for technical theatre. I mean, for one, its highly quantifiable. You hang a light, and you've hung light. Job done. Two, theres actually a good market for jobs. Three, I don't have to delve into myself and dredge out this cornucopia of feelings. (ok, not the best excuse, but still) And finally, It means I get to be part of theatre. Which is my love.
This whole situation really begs the question, will tech give me what I want. Can I find happiness through that as opposed to acting? I don't expect you to answer, grandma, but I thought it was a question worth posing.
I'll figure it out in time, I guess. Such is Life.
Friday, April 15, 2011
So, I feel like I have to get this off my chest, before i step into the big bad world, and get stabbed for my mistake.
Long story short, I thought I was gay. Did some soul searching, felt very conflicted, and discovered I'm not. After telling everyone I was.
Well, the good news is, I know who I am. So, I get to confidently stride into the world, and say, "Come to me, my shapely long haired love." The bad news is, telling everyone, "Hey. So, i'm a crazy adolescent who is confused. Sorry, but No Homo."
Thanks for listening, Internet. Good to know I can spout my feelings to the air, and pretend that someones listening.
Tuesday, October 26, 2010
I'll use swears however i want to. If i want to say, "Fuck off" I shall say, fuck off.
I have found out I have a real problem with people trying to control my language. I'm particularly loquacious, and when someone tries to stopper my expression, it bothers me to no end. If i say, "Paint her face blue and white, and then add a big ass scar." thats what i mean. Trying to alter the adjective takes away my ability to express myself, because instead of using the term that i think adequately describes the scar, I have to rethink my entire system of size, avoiding words that do the scar justice.
Don't get me wrong. I'm not dependent on foul language. My vocabulary is quite sufficient without the use of curses and such. Thats what makes their usage so efficient and important. When i choose to use a cuss word, then i have chosen it for a very specific reason. For instance, When I am chumming about with my mates, if i happen to call on of them a "Pickled Cunt-Knuckle", I did so for either two reasons. One, they did something of colossal stupidity, and deserve to reprimanded in an equally spectacular manner. Or two, I did so jokingly, and, using such provocative language, encourage a laugh or two. Replacing the word, "Cunt" with "Silly" renders the joke humourless, and unintelligible.
I'm going to branch off the main topic a little in this last paragraph, so hold on to your thinking caps. What bothers me the most about people trying to deny the usage of foul language, is that they dislike the word, simply because it is considered a "swear." The don't look at the context in which it's used, simply that it has been said. If my friend makes me squirt apple juice out of my nose, by telling a hilarious story, and i proceed to say, with a smile on my face, "Bitch!", should the use of that word be deemed taboo? I'm using it to express my surprise, awe and respect for the situation, and my friend. That seems to be perfectly harmless. Lets flip the table. I run at one of these people, who disagree with the use of unpleasant language, with a large knife while screaming, "SUNFLOWER!!!!" Even though this is an innocent word, it is filled with malice. Should the word "sunflower" be associated with genocide, torture, and starving children simply because of the emotion it is said with? Replace "Sunflower" with any other word, it's the emotion and the intent of the word, not the word itself, when dealing with adjectives and adverbs.
Hopefully that made sense. Btw, if your offended by this language, stop reading. Its not that tough. To emphasize this point, FUCK COCK MOTHERFUCKER SHITFACE DICKHEAEDED BITCHWHORE GIRL ORANGE ORANGE BANANA HEADPHONE EXPLOSION!!!!! If you just read that to the end, you obviously see that i don't need swears to be angry, but if you stopped at the swears, then who will never know. You also won't be reading this. Muahahaha.
Thursday, October 21, 2010
We don't fit. It's simple. It's painful. It's true.
You learn as you go through life. Every experience is another lesson. And every mistake you make, you learn. Hard as it may be, you must bear every bit of pain, and walk away alive. That is life. Every action has it's consequence, and all of the consequences must be borne.
I broke up with a girl in edmonton. We don't fit. We don't, it's a simple fact.
She showed me love. If you go through life, picturing yourself as a funny guy, devoid of attraction, and someone shows you love, you assume its a sign. You jump at that person, filled with hope and excitement, that finally, you have that completing piece of the puzzle. Little do you know, it's not about love its self, but the person who is giving it. Love is a byproduct of a person. Not the end goal.
I have to justify being a bastard. But, no matter how disgusting or ignoble I seem to the girl, I must follow through. Because, to lie to her is the worse of two evils. Better i leave her heart bruised, then shatter it a year down the lane.
Saturday, October 16, 2010
If i play my cards right, I can be a wild youth till i'm 30. Seeing as I began partying 2 years ago, that means out of a potential 15 wild years, I still have 13 years of them. Pow, I am young and far too concerned with myself. I should accept that at 17, I have an explosive amount of potential, yet absolutely no training. Therefore, the best path that I can currently see, is the either, A) Blindly create with an extreme disregard for what my head tells me is garbage, or B) Hold this creativity close to my heart, so that the day i have a ravine of my river of creative thought, it shall flow like no tomorrow.
Seeing as apathy and self-concern is too overpowering at the present time, option B seems to be the most feasible. However, I am once again not factoring in the fact that i am stupidly young. In 5 years, I'll have a crap load of training, yet, hopefully, I'll still have most of, if not more, of the creative thoughts.
Right now, I'm seeing talent explode around me, and it concerns me. I see fireworks, which burst forth into the world with brilliance. It frightens me, feeling like I am no firework, and therefor no artist, no creator. It is my deepest hope and wish, that i am instead a candle. Something that will go on and on into the world, with a sustaining light, that guides others.
So, in short, I will not let my sloth disturb me. I am not lazy, because of apathy. I am timid, because of fear of impotence. The system has ingrained such fear of technical correctness, that any and all attempts to do something in innocence, and ernest, are hampered considerably.
I feel like I'm mumbling in lofty ideological terms. But you know what? I like using lofty ideological terms. It gives my petty thoughts a feeling of grandeur unbecoming of their position in life. I think thats what being an actor is all about.