I haz it. 

I don’t know why I don’t feel as keen to blog on this particular one. It’s only been, what, four months since i started this? Terrible. This is starting to become like the many notebooks I keep on hand. I write on a few pages of one, then forget about it and find another one to write in. I always feel more inspired when there’s something new to share my thoughts on. Maybe this blog name and blogging format isn’t right for me. 

I don’t know. I may call it quits on this one and move again. I’ll let you know though.

If there’s one thing we can learn from Clone High, it’s that littering can kill ya. And so can garbage strikes. Toronto is filthy. C’mon guys… WTF?

I saw Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince last night. Like a bazillion geeks out there, I’ve been stupidly obsessed with the series for about a decade and have been known to be somewhat of a Harry Potter snob because of it. While I admittedly orgasmed while watching the trailer on iTunes months ago, I have to say that I wasn’t really as excited for this movie as I had been for previous films. The reason is simple: everytime a Harry Potter film is released and I watch it, I’m usually red with anger at how its adapted. Don’t get me wrong, I get that not every single detail of the book can be included in the films because of time constraints. The problem is that the Harry Potter film franchise ALWAYS takes out some of the most key plot points that would make the series flow smoothly (see: Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban). Some of those key points also made the books all the more interesting and complex, which is why it angers me so much how the film adaptations were so… well… dumbed  down. 

Admittedly, I wasn’t as offended about the Half Blood Prince as I was watching the other movies. While the first half of it was all scrambled, I did appreciate a lot of the humour and the awkwardness that is a bunch of 16-year olds figuring out the wonderful world of sexuality (all implied of course… though still extremely hilarious…. see: Quidditch tryouts). The last bit of it, however, was pretty lacklustre in comparison to the intensity of the book. Save for the cave scene, which was done quite well save for the disturbing design of the genital-less zombies (I get that it’s a kids movie… but Abe and I were a bit concerned about their crotch’s likeness to Ken Dolls), everything else just lacked that emotional connection with the characters. I found myself just wanting to get the movie over and done with… didn’t care for the events, didn’t even care for one of my favourite characters, Severus Snape when he fulfilled one of the prime plot points in the series. And what’s with the lack of explanation as to what the significance was of the Half Blood Prince? Isn’t that the name of the damn book?

Ginny also needs to be RBRed by a death-eater. Most. Useless. Character. Ever.

I thought that not reading the sixth book right before the seeing the film would cause me to cut it some slack since the plot wasn’t so fresh in my mind…. but no, the film still experienced my wrath. Maybe if they had taken the extra five minutes it would have taken to explain some things then they wouldn’t have to split the seventh book into two films…. because really, half of that damn book was just some teenagers camping in the woods…. does it really need two movies to cover the story otherwise?!

So Jacko kicked the bucket yesterday. I was on my final 15-minute stretch of my shift at work, mourning over Farrah Fawcet’s death with a co-worker when we received the phone call from her mother. My manager didn’t want to believe it, but google confirmed the news. Admittedly, I felt pretty sad and nostalgic. As a child of the 80s, Michael Jackson was a huge part of me growing up. I had many fond memories watching his music videos, dancing Thriller, singing “Lisa it’s your birthday!” even though this was only a Simpson episode about MJ, and watching a friend from film school dance to “Billy Jean” whenever we requested it at clubs when we were in University. And yes… i listened to A LOT of Jackson Five growing up too. My parents loved them and so I did too. Oh Jacko, hope you reunite with Bubbles and find the real Neverland in the afterlife. 

And who could forget Farrah Fawcet. Poor woman, her death and life story will now probably be overshadowed by Jacko kicking the bucket. I watched the original Charlie’s Angels growing up and had many fond memories doing the gun poses with friends in every photo from third grade on. That never got old. Farrah Fawcet, you will forever be one of the sexiest, sauciest and kickass women in Hollywood’s history. Adios. 

And Jeff Goldlum… I am glad you’re not dead. This news would have been too much for me to handle. May you live long and prosper so you can save us from dinosaurs and aliens when they try to take over the earth. 

I remember whining in school about not having enough time to do things because I was always so busy with school shit. Being a full-time student with a part time job at a bookstore seemed to just be too much. Due dates for papers? Man, that’s too much commitment to ask from a youngin’ with a short attention span. I couldn’t wait ’til I graduated so that I could have more free time and most importantly, freedom. Now that I have been graduated for two years, I’m finding that I’m dreaming about the school days when I actually seemingly did have more free time on my hands. 

I barely have any free time these days. Between working a day job in a place that I constantly want to firebomb, starting my own art business, looking for film gigs, doing freelance projects with friends and putting together a monthly stage play, I barely have time to do my own laundry. Time management of me has been extremely challenging since three of the activities I do are more or less full time jobs! To add to that: I am now acting in ANOTHER stage play for a theatre festival next month, and… oh yes… I’ve got a wedding to plan in four months. My head feels like it’s going to explode. 

I’m worried that the summer will just pass me right by because I’m going to be spending most of my time indoors. No tan for me… just strained eyes and easy-accessible junk food. Things would be a lot easier if I could just quit my day job, or at least go part-time so that I would have time for everything else. Unfortunately, since I’m only making enough to live with barely any money to save, I think I’m stuck doing this for a little while longer… 

I need some advice on managing my time.

Hi there. I still exist. I promise. Are you still reading? I hope so. I had been wanting to start this blog to exercise my need for theraputic ranting, but lately I’ve been busy getting myself into wonderfully awkward and equally bad situations that I never have time to write about them. I used to be a decent blogger, I promise. I never used to write these cliche (yes, I am aware that they are cliche) apologetic posts because I wrote like a fiend. How do you other bloggers get back into it again? I want to know!

Along with the sheer lack of time, I think what I’m having trouble with is finding my voice for this particular blog. I will talk about this publicly since I’m sure many other bloggers probably feel the same way. While I love having my own public soap box on the internet, I am also weary about revealing my real life 3D identity at the same time. I’m at a delicate position in developing my career in film and art, and I don’t want to have to think about fucking up my chances in succeeding because I wrote something on here in blind rage. Hey, it’s a legitimate fear… people get fired all the time for the work crap they talk about online. I thought that writing somewhat anonymously would be an easy feat. I have many friends who do it, including one of my best friends Ramona. Well, it’s pretty damn challenging. Maybe I’m still subconsciously paranoid and that I’m still being super careful about using generalized statements to describe the situations I’m in. How do you guys find a happy medium in blogging like this? Am I just over-thinking? 

Once a month, I put together a play. It’s not quite pornography, but the content is quite gruesome and still quite dirty in its own right. We were recently asked to perform at a special convention this summer, which was incredibly exciting for our cast. We had come a long way, and it was nice to change up the scenery by performing in a new space for an evening.

We were stoked about it, that is, until we received a very unsettling email from the convention’s board of directors. In the email, we were told to tone our regular show down to PG-13 to please the “family crowd”. Granted, our show is crude to the nth degree, but that’s the way it’s always been. We take pride in being that cast that upped the anti on crude comedy. Why invite us to the convention if it’s been such a wide known fact that we were never your parents’ favourite program? That’s why our shows are usually slotted at midnight, douchebags!

“It’s important to us to support our own local artists in our community,” the email stated. Support? How is censoring our work supporting our art? My head may explode from this logic… not to mention the fact that the original work that our performance is adapted from is Rated-R. You can’t clean up an already “dirty” piece of work. It’s either you support it or you don’t. It’s just as bad as saying you like your gay friends but are against them tooth  and nail for wanting to getting married.  

What bothers me most about this whole thing is the content that they choose to censor. The show has two aspects to it that makes it Rated-R: extreme gore and B: mild sexual undertones. Guess what the convention is offended by? Sure, we can cut up bodies like meat and mutilate organs in front of children… but as soon as naked female breasts hit the stage,  ”uh-uh. Nope! Highly inappropriate!” Why is is that most people are OK with gratuitous violence, which is, well, harmful and extremely negative, but then they get offended by something natural and positive as sex? How does that work? 

A lot of my creative work has always been sexual in one way or another. I’m a sexual person, I can’t help that. Dealing with ignorant individuals who want to censor what I do is like pulling teeth. Yes, while I don’t agree with their views, I do realize that not everyone is koscher with depicting sex so publicly, but don’t invite us to perform in your damn space if you don’t like what we do! 

I must see this movie. I think my head just exploded in cuteness when I saw the trailer. Oh Michael Cera. My ovaries want you.

I got an impromptu day off today, probably the first in a very long time. I had originally booked the day off to be an extra in a feature film shoot, but since the call time ended up being in the late evening, I have the whole day to laze around the apartment in my underwear. It’s been a while since I’ve had a day to myself like this. Usually my days off consisted of entertaining cast members from my stage-play, escaping the suburbs by crashing in our living room for the weekend (not that I ever complain, I do love my cast).  Any day off also consisted of a huge list of things to do.

Not that I’ve done fuck all today. I actually accomplished three different tasks this morning that I had been meaning to do for a while now: register my business with the government, print out my business cards for said business and contact the ring dude for some custom jewelry for mine and Abe’s* wedding. Between the day job and the theatre hullaballoo, I never have time to take care of things I’m interested in like my career and future marriage. It’s pretty unnerving!

While my morning had been pretty productive, I plan to spend the rest of the day to do some valuable me time (with the exception of the couple of hours later this afternoon where I sit in the laundromat to watch my underthings tumble). A long nap, healthy lunch and some art time are in order. 

* Abe is my fiance. Not his real name, but back when we first met and he had shorter hair and a scruffy goatee, he did look a lot like Clone High Abe. It’s pretty appropriate for this blog anyway.