Escapism

I was reading an interview with David Suzuki yesterday, and he said something along the lines of “we’re ignoring the planet dying and instead focusing on celebrities” (sorry, I don’t have the exact quote).

This statement really got me thinking about escapism.

I have an obsession with stories. Not only do I spend a large majority of my time playing video games, watching movies, watching TV shows, reading books, and reading articles online, I also spend my time writing those articles, and those stories, and working on theatrical productions and, occasionally, films. My life is about stories. I live, breathe, and sleep them.

They’re how I approach the world – the experiences I have in real-world situations often turn into my best (or terrible, I guess that’s debatable) stories. My life is a series of stories, starring myself and my friends and family. I suppose this is true of all people – what would there be to talk about if not for what happens to us in our lives? We recount stories to one another every day.

Suzuki’s point mostly focused on celebrities. I do fall into this trap from time to time. I cast books in my head. I go to conventions and meet my favourite sci fi actors. I likely know way too much about the personal lives of celebrities, and I can usually name pretty much every actor I see on screen. I can even tell what commercials are shot in Toronto, based on the actors that appear in them (yes, I’m likely a dork).

Does this come at a cost? Do I ignore real world problems or situations in favour of the glitz and glamour of Hollywood? Yes. Probably.

I know the world is dying. I do a little bit – I’m all about public transit (although I’ll admit this is more for the selfish “I don’t want to learn to drive” reason – though the environmental benefit is nice) and I’m getting better about turning everything off when I leave, and doing things like only washing my clothes in cold water.

I know people are dying. There are so many terrible things that go on everywhere – war, famine, slavery, poverty, oppression. I don’t really do anything about that. I don’t know that I can. I’d love to adopt a child in some war-torn country or give money to those in need. I tell myself I don’t because I’m unemployed and have no money to give. Yet somehow I’m writing this from a Starbucks on Yonge Street – so that excuse doesn’t sit well with me. The extent of my charity is lazy – liking things on Facebook so other companies will donate a dollar, retweeting for the same purpose.

Sometimes I feel like I’m a really terrible person. Perhaps I am.

I get involved with politics to a point, but I don’t go nuts, mostly because I’ve learned there’s a lot of people I simply don’t want to discuss politics with.

I’ve always believed that telling stories helps the world. It makes us human. I still believe that. I believe we become aware of those people who are dying , the environment, everything through the media and education. I believe the arts are central to this because they allow us to work out our feelings on these things. And escapism isn’t all bad – it can’t be all doom and gloom all the time.

Do I hide in the stories? Does creating art and words make me self-centred? Am I a terrible person who lives in the arts rather than helping out her fellow man in the real world? Or can I help by writing and creating and doing? Is it a false reality? Does writing this down actually do anything for anybody or does it stroke my own ego?

I guess I just thought I’d share what was going on in my head today, as I sit in a Starbucks on Yonge, on a laptop I am lucky to have, in a life full of wonderful and terrible stories.

Graphic Novel Project – Request for Your Dreams!

Hello everyone,

So, I have a project in the works, (extremely tentatively entitled “The Rub”) which will hopefully turn into a graphic novel. It will largely be made up of real-life dreams (the sleep kind, not the aspiration kind, though I’m sure those are lovely too). To begin working on a draft, I need to collect those dreams, and where better to begin than here.

WHAT I NEED: Any dream of yours that you can describe for about a minute or longer – so this means the dreams you can remember quite vividly. The dreams you can only describe in a sentence or two will likely not provide enough material for me to work with.

WHAT WILL HAPPEN IF YOU AGREE: I’ll set up an interview, either in person or over Skype (you can email if you wish, though I’d prefer a live chat). There will be a form to sign (basically agreeing to allow your dream to potentially be used – and a decision on your part of whether or not you wish to have your name credited. This credit will not directly be in the story, nor will any images look like you – the credit would be on a thank you page only. I do understand, however, that some dreams can be unusual enough that you don’t want to be associated with them at all, so it is your choice whether or not you want to be thanked publicly or not). If I’m interviewing you online, I’ll email you the form and you’ll need to print it, and send it back to me via scan or mail (if that ever lives again). Then we’ll have a chat (which I’ll record) and that’s all that needs to happen!

If there are any questions or concerns, feel free to contact me.

Thank you for your help folks. Projects are fun. 

Love,
Heather

In Case You've Ever Wondered...

According to Last.fm

A Love Letter to UTSC

In the months and days prior to the end of my final semester, a lot of people have been asking me “So how does it feel?” “You must be so excited!” That kind of thing. And now that I’ve written my final exam, everyone is saying “Congratulations!” And many people have been surprised when my answer is “No, I’m not excited at all. I love school.” It’s not quite the response everybody expects.

I also believe in being grateful. And so, this is my love letter to you, UTSC. It is also my goodbye.

I loved being at school because I love all of you. You have made the past three years an absolute joy. I loved our shared experience. I loved discussing books and plays with you. I loved the often insane amount of reading I had to accomplish. I even loved essays (well most of them anyhow). I loved discussing and making theatre with you. I loved D&A. I loved the openness and acceptance that I have encountered just by speaking with all of you – I have had more intellectual debates about art, religion, and culture in the past three years than I have ever had in my life. I loved laughing with you at all the goofy shit we came up with. I loved expanding my mind by the various classes I took (though I will admit – some classes were significantly better than others).

This is why I loved hanging around in the greyspace and LLBT. I was happy to just be around all of you. I learned more from being around all of you then anything.

Prior to my time here, when I was largely unemployed and mostly sitting at home doing nothing, my brain had shut off. I didn’t realize it at the time. I was in a numb state, where this haze prevented me from being at all creative. UTSC opened my mind up to so many new ideas and people. It cleared the fog. I feel creative again, which is something I hadn’t felt in a long time. And I owe that to you.

To everyone who is currently seeing school as a giant pain in the ass: don’t. It is so incredibly valuable, and our brief time there is so precious. Sure, it is occasionally stressful and there’s occasionally drama outside of our dramatic studies, but really, it’s such a blessing. This has been exactly what I wanted out of a school experience, and I didn’t get that when I went to college.

Thank you. All of you. I look forward to hanging out with you and working with you in the future. (ii)

Heather

i) This has been cross-posted to my Facebook.
ii) Watch out for Part 2: A Call to Arms. It should be coming around within a day or so.

Boredom and Music Quizzes

Instructions: Put your favorite music player on shuffle (Party Shuffle on iTunes) and fill in the names of the songs in the order they show up. Or you could pick your own songs, but that’s not as much fun.

My friends see me as: Pinch Me (Barenaked Ladies)

My make-out song is: Do You Want To Know a Secret (The Beatles)

My day will be like: My Number One (Paramore)

I’ll have a good day if I can just hear: It Wasn't Me (Anouk)

Next time I’m in front of a crowd, I’ll say: Keep On Rollin' (Dana Fuchs)

My message to the world has always been: Sleep Together (Garbage)

Somewhere in my wedding vows, I will include: Over The Moon (Rent Broadway Soundtrack/ Idina Menzel)

My best friend is like: Hooker (P!nk)

My alter-ego is: Greatest Hits (Sublime)

Right now, I feel: Snowball in Hell (They Might Be Giants)

My innermost desire is: Pennsylvania 6-5000 (Brian Setzer Orchestra)

What makes me happy is: Rap Medley (Barenaked Ladies)

My birth was like: Clear (Jason Webley)

My theme song: You'll Miss Me (They Might Be Giants)

My deepest secret is: Generic Blues (Weird Al Yankovic)

If I reached the top of Mount Everest, what I would scream: Untitled (Neutral Milk Hotel)

My favorite thing to do is: Le Loup (Superbus)

The story of my life is: When You Wish Upon a Star (Pinocchio soundtrack)

At my funeral they’ll play: Canada Haunts Me (They Might Be Giants)

When I’m drunk I say: I'm Good I'm Gone (Lykke Li)

Behind my back, my friends think I’m: Boston and St. Johns (Great Big Sea)

If I got lost on a desert island, I would yell: Orange (Spiral Beach)

When I’m in the shower, I sing: C Moon (Wings)

My love of life was inspired by the song: Thank You (Jill Hennessy)

Highschool was like: Born Secular (Jenny Lewis and The Watson Twins)

My family is described by the song: I'm Ready (Allison Weiss)

How will you die? Rigadoon (Great Big Sea)

To cheer myself up I: On The Street Where You Live (My Fair Lady)

Eco-Nomy

I feel stiff in this ecosystem.
Like a weed in the grass, unwanted.
I've never been one with the stale grey walls,
the 5x5 spacing
and the business casual embellishments.
The moment I go bushwacking,
I get a small, round fist
exploding from my stomach.
My instinct for colour,
family,
life,
tell me to turn and run.

What Happens When I Take Part in Psych Experiments

I write poetry! Yay!


I become increasingly aware of the expansiveness of the universe
Aware of how far my feet are from the ground
As if the hardwood underneath me was insufficient, a false reality
That could vanish instantaneously, causing my body to shatter
With shards of my soul floating into the atmosphere
Twinkling, fake stars in an endless sky