Ladies and gentlemen…
I know, I suck.
I can’t really explain why I haven’t written a blog in two months, maybe longer. There’s something about blog writing, at least the way that I do it, where you kinda have to be in the right groove. I’ve been writing this blog non stop for three years, and I think I just had to step away for a while and keep things to myself.
Ya’ll got too up in ma shit!
No, no you didn’t, I just wanted to type that sentence.
It’s been awhile compadres.
I’ve basically spent the last few months building up my styling business and actually enjoying the creative process. Getting fired and going on EI was, artistically, the best thing that could have happened to me. For the first time in my creative career I have been able to freely create without having a fucking panic attack every other day. I’ve had bills to pay since I was a teenager, and I never had a chance to breathe most times. But now, for 12 months, I can create and stand on solid ground while doing it.
I sometimes feel guilty about the freedom, like I’m cheating somehow. Then again I think about the work I’ve created and pulled off this year, as opposed to last. It’s different, it’s more calculated, it’s the way my work should have always been. Not to say that my work was shit…I mean starting out, yea, I had some shit work here and there.
You need to step in shit first, it makes you pay attention the next time you go for a walk.
Beyond that, I guess I should update you on my woman crew stories. Recently we all went up to Cat’s parents’ place. A place with room to roam to say the least. We were all in fine form, hammered in 90’s PJ sets, attempting to play a game of pool. Cat’s the second of us to be walking down the aisle, so we’ve decided that it calls for many wine-soaked hangouts and Backstreet Boys dance-a-thons.
K-mo said THE whitest thing I’ve ever heard that hasn’t come out of an orange bleach-blonde mid-forties Fresh-‘N-Wild super market customer.
I only went in there once to buy tampons…
They didn’t have tampons.
Right, what K-mo said: “I ALWAYS have leftover kale,” and she said it the way you probably read it in your head. She said it like a debutant having a stroke while explaining the origins of her silverware collection.
…Or an Upper Eastside, Saran Wrap-faced wannabe desperate housewife…your choice.
Lately, my days are spent either in bed watching ridiculous crime dramas or running around sourcing clothing, accessories, set pieces and crafts for upcoming shoots. Or, by the time I get out of bed I’m headed off to meet friends for some antics, bar hopping, and late night hosting. I’m not living a glamorous life, but Im certainly living a good life, no matter how hard it gets sometimes.
It’s really important to let yourself just be every now and then, words straight out of my man’s mouth when I’m freaking out. “Honey, just relax.” Maybe that’s a more accurate statement. I am horrible at self acceptance and validation. I feel like I’m racing against people I’ve only seen in Instagram posts. But I’m starting to realize that putting in time, taking days to just let yourself go, is fucking important.
Sure, I love the spazzed-out, in-the-moment adrenalin of crunch time. It’s something that is both terrifying and exhilarating. There’s a lot of room for mistakes, and you have to pick your time and place to be in that zone. Like when you you fast-talk your way past the doorman at a party you definitely shouldn’t be at. Not the night before a shoot and you’re at Zara maxing out your credit cards for something at 8 a.m. the next morning because of a client request.
There’s something a lot more rewarding in a well planned creative piece, and this last three months have taught me the importance of timeframe and reward.
I never really know if my writing helps anyone else dealing with creative endeavours. I hope I can at least help ease the pain of the I’m-not-trying-hard-enoughs. The last three months I’ve had days where I feel like Im going to get sucked into a greyscale life. I’ll just become a late passenger on a train that’s already left the station. A flamingo at a penguin party. A chain smoker at a health spa. A paper bag princess at the Met Ball. An educated person at a Trump rally. A hamster at a rat race.
Always a round peg in a square hole.
Not that I’d EVER want to fit in or attend a Trump rally, unless I was solely there to spike the food with laxatives and watch everyone shit their pants.
Somedays I look at my work and think, “It’s just not cool enough and nobody knows who I am.” Then I usually drink a bottle of Bordeaux Sauvignon Blanc, smoke a half pack of cigarettes and validate myself to Adele sonnets.
Ya know, lip sync styles.
But in the end I keep going, I keep creating and I keep finding like minded people to join me in my insane ideas to eventually get paid for. And regardless of my doubts I know the kind of life I want, and I know I couldn’t live any other way. I get weird being in bank buildings, let alone any office that has cubicles.
Why do all office buildings/condo lobbies smell like Apple stores?
Anyway I hope you are all de-hibernating and your hibernation was less dreadful than our previous years in Toronto. I feel like we all got out more this winter, and I certainly walked/stumbled home from more bars and parties this year. However, my late night takeout bill has been doubled…
I’ll take this time to apologize to every JUST EAT driver I’ve not answered because I’ve passed out at 3 a.m.
Thanks for reading, loves.