A Close Encounter of a Third Kind

Have you ever talked to a stranger and really — I mean REALLY, connected with him/her? I’m not sure if it ever happens to people. But when it does, it’s nothing short of magical. I can attest to that.

It happened one night back in January, when I was on my first day at a new job. I first noticed her when she was building parts of the riser for the stage and I was standing in a circle with my fellow technicians waiting to be assigned a task. Besides me and another girl, she is the only other female theatre tech who was working that day. She wore a nicely-fitted t-shirt, jeans and steel-toe boots: the same outfit that pretty much everyone wore regardless of gender. But there was a certain flair about her that stood out to me (Or maybe it was the odd familiarity of her which I couldn’t quite put my finger on that puzzled me).

Anyway, I kept my eye on her —or tried to, rather— throughout the day. I secretly wished that we could be friends. We were working two very different fields, her being a stage hand and me being a lighting tech, and rarely come in contact with one another even though we were in the same space.The chance came towards the end of the day when I was asked by my supervisor to help her sort out some cables. We didn’t talk much other than our actual work, and after a short while we were at the end of our shift. I took my time getting my things together while she changed. We then signed out and headed out together.

On our way to the skytrain, we passed by Steamworks, a popular pub in Gastown. We decided to take a detour and went to visit a friend of hers who works there. Upon inquiry, she finds out that he wasn’t in that particular night. So she turned to me and asked if I still wanted to hang out. Heck, why not? I said yes despite my watch displaying some figure past ten and the back of my mind telling me to go home. Immediately following my “yes”, we were led to a small table through a rowdy crowd on a weekend night. I thought I had made the wrong decision. I don’t even know this person who I was going to drink with!But a yes is still a yes.

When we sat down by a wall of bookshelves at a table for two, I was starting to get intrigued at how this night could turn out. A friendly new face at a new place. As far as I was concerned, I was networking with an experienced technician. And networking is always a plus in this industry. Thus began our new-found friendship. We sat facing each other and asked questions. Unavoidably, awkward silences filled the time in between our quest of getting to know each other. Awkward in a good way (I don’t know if that even makes sense) because smiles would creep up the corners of our mouths. I was mesmerized by this woman who contained a sort of mysterious stature. I felt that I’ve met this stranger before… in my dreams? or was it deja vu?

She surprised me when she said she graduated from the theatre production program at SFU not too long ago. Ah, no wonder! We have probably worked on some production together! We discussed the possibility but could not recall any specific instances. But my instinct was right. We at least have a shared knowledge of what our post-secondary education is like. We shared the same faculty and worked in the same facility for the span of the 4 years that we obtained our degree. Did this night of bonding with a stranger just get better or what?

I shared with her my distaste for the theatre production program and my lack of knowledge of the beers that Steamworks served. She laughed at my lone drunk story, and in turn she told me about the jist of her life. Our silences turned into inarticulate understanding of each other’s lives. It was truly magical. After a pint of beer we each had, we called it a night.

Strangely enough, I could not remember what she looked like on the way home. The smile that mesmerized me for the past hour disappeared from my memory. In addition to that, I was uncertain when I’d see my new friend again. She wasn’t working the next day, and our relationship is still just beginning that it would probably seem like I was coming onto her if I asked her to have a drink with me again.

As soon as I got home, I went through the entire folder of programs I’d saved from working on or seeing shows. I found all the past dance ones at SFU, but I was missing THE one. I was so sure that our names would appear on the same page though I couldn’t exactly remember what I did for the show.

With that missing link, I did a very stalker-ish thing the next day and stole her contact info off the time log sheets at work. I didn’t know what she would think if I called her out of the blue, especially since she didn’t exactly release her phone number to me.

But I was longing for someting more. Something this intriguing doesn’t just happen for no reason. I had to do something. I decided I would text her on opening night, despite her expressed dislike for texts. Still, it was the only way I could keep this relationship going. So I did. She thanked me for it. Further communication were made via facebook thence.

And now, before we could advance our friendship further, she’s embarking on a months long trip to South East Asia. I’m at a loss of sound advice for her. I am surprised to find myself feeling sad to have a friend who I’ve spent less than a day’s time go away for so long. Or am I sad because I am not able/ do not have the courage to do what she’s about to do?

Either way, I still feel that we are somewhat mysterious semi-strangers, yet it’s like I’m losing a dear friend to hang out with over the summer. I know she’ll make great discoveries over the course of her amazing trip, and that she’ll come back a different person. But that doesn’t changed the fact that I am officially bummed out :(

5 Shows in 6 Days

I’ve been running around the city in the last 6 days trying to catch the different shows I’ve committed to. You can say that it makes me sound busy, but really it’s like a break before I bury myself in school work in the next two weeks. So I’m gonna tell you about the 5 shows I’ve seen recently:

Machinal (SFU 2010 Mainstage) by Sophie Treadwell; ongoing until April 17th
A 1928 Broadway hit, Machinal is a modern age tragedy of isolation turned to murder. Based on the true story of Ruth Snyder, Machinal follows an unremarkable stenographer, Helen Jones, who is caught in the mechanics of a repetitive, lifeless identity. Only when fate offers her a glimpse of intimacy, triggering deep passion for living, does she realize how deeply trapped she is. Machinal is regarded as a masterpiece of expressionist theatre.

-Personally I really enjoyed this piece. It’s rather fascinating and unlike anything I’ve seen recently. The lighting design is pretty sweet, too.

Mozart’s The Magic Flute (The Opera Project)
The Magic Flute in concert! Great singing but everything else pretty much flops. Including lighting, which I was helping out with (only because they were really crappy lights).

Odori: The World of Kabuki Dance (Japanese Theatre) at Fredrick Wood Theatre
Kabuki is traditional Japanese theatre. Quite intriguing, I gotta say. But I wonder how people back then stay awake during the performance…

Selina’s Grad Recital (UBC Recital Hall)
I can’t believe Selina’s graduating! Along with a handful of my highschool friends… this concert is part of the graduation requirement, and she makes the bassoon sounds so good! Every time I go see her perform, I regret not going to music school…

Chris Botti with the Vancouver Symphony Orchestra (Orpheum Theatre)
I am really lucky to have gotten the last ticket in the house! Chris Botti’s trumpet-playing gave me goosebumps. His band and guest performers are excellent, too! I wish my friends were there…

That makes it… 13 shows in 2 months!

101 Dalmatians

There is a feeling that our entire film class just got slapped across the face. REPEATEDLY. This Cruella de Vil guest-speaking producer (aka soul-crusher, kiss of death) is beating everyone’s filmmaking dreams to the pulp by the minute. The “industry” she describes is a cold, harsh and competitive place. If we want in, we HAVE TO decide on what we WANT, pronto. And [unfortunately] she has a certain disdain for the Canadian industry. Basically she laid it out for us: you can’t go anywhere if you don’t go down to the States. So when we went around the room speaking about what we want to do in the future film-wise, I can sense a certain defiance in everyone’s voice.

It’s as if we are 12 years old again and we’re being spanked for being too naive. I mean, yes, we ARE graduating soon, and yes, we —well, most of us anyway— somehow or other wants to make films when we’re done school. So yes, we are looking to involve ourselves in some sort of filmmaking endeavor post-education. But in what capacity and how will we go about achieving that are two of the many questions that we can’t quite answer yet. As much we are about developing a secure career, we are still students. Art students with troubled hearts who haven’t completely figured out who WE are yet. So please, put yourself in our shoes before you march in and lay out your entrepreneurial career crap. (No, it’s not that we don’t care, it’s just that we have too much on our plates at the moment that it has simply been ousted from our priorities or thought process)

And there are many ways to go about achieving our filmmaking dreams. Ways other than joining the union or moving down south. So the system Canada has in place is indeed application-based bureaucracy. So there’s a better chance of success if you make something in the US and market it across the border north. That doesn’t mean people hasn’t been able to make a splash without having gone that route. (Or maybe we’d all like to believe that we’ll get lucky like that small portion of filmmakers who made a name for themselves on their own did)

So for a brief hour and half, I can feel our entire class of passionate Canadian filmmakers coming together secretly. There were glances going around the room, and we knew we were seeing eye to eye against what she’s presenting. It’s sort of magical, like a silent bond occurring in an instant —something that I felt our year lacked compared to the other years.

Perhaps this cold smack on the face was exactly what we needed. It’s our wake-up call. The bucket of icy water poured over our head. We’ve been in film school for 3 years now. Maybe we have gotten too comfortable and too used to hearing the sugar-coated reality of the filmmaking world. We are, after all, a fresh crop waiting to realize our full potential. And we won’t be able to do that unless we decide what specific kind of crop we choose to be. We can’t spend forever reveling in what would be “fun” or “nice” or “cool”.

But, as bittersweet as it is, I’d like to believe that we are still young… and as young people, we are still allowed dream.

Faith

Faith. It’s the engine of everything I do. Well, maybe not all the time, but just about anything anyway.

Flipping back in my notebook, I come across the notes for a World Literature class I took in fall 2008. On the last page of the notes, in point-form, I documented the class when we were in a teleconference with Gina Ochsner, an award-winning author. We had been assigned to read two of her short stories,Articles of Faith and Halves of a Whole in her book People I Wanted to Be. It’s been almost two years now, and only the titles sounds vaguely familiar. But I remember her stories centered around the themes of the “good” supernatural forces and magical realism. She believes in ghosts and is superstitious. Regardless of how skeptical I was about the beliefs she held, I enjoyed her stories. Then when she she mentioned that

faith is the engine of her writing

I had no doubt she was going to be a great writer (as if she wasn’t already).

Faith is sure belief and trust. Faith is being sure of what you hope for and certain of things even if you cannot see them.

Having faith in what I do, what I want to do, and what I can accomplish is what gets me through the day. I don’t know how anyone can carry on with their life without having at least a little bit of faith. I can’t guarantee that my degree will ensure me a well-paying job. But I have faith in myself, in what I learnt and will learn, and in my abilities that I will eventually get there. Having faith in life helps you to accomplish a lot of things, things which you might otherwise think is impossible.

Yet like how life is unfair, there are times when spirits are weary and your faith can wear thin. When that does happen, doubt starts to settle and your belief and trust weavers. So… what then, what if you do lose faith? You sink really really low… and it’ll probably take a long time to rebuild your faith. That’s when friends and family comes in handy. And hopefully their faith is infectious enough that at least you can take a little faith bug away from them.

Then you can pick up where you left off. Or not, if it’s better to start new.

I’d like to believe that I’m a pretty faithful person. Yet I don’t know if I have faith in my writing. I love using words to express myself. Sometimes they are not the most appropriate, or that they reveal too much. Writing makes me feel vulnerable… when I am indeed writing about what I’m feeling. But I guess I wouldn’t be doing it unless I have at least a little faith. Even the tiniest amount counts. Faith, it’s what carries you and me across the page.

I’ll Have You Know

…that I’ve been quite happy for the last few days; happy like I’ve never been before.

:D

Thank you for getting my adrenaline going, and I really hope that it’ll carry on throughout the months to come.

Small Epiphany...?

When I get depressed, I think about calling friends —most of whom who are probably preoccupied with their life. I look for certain people to talk to, and the ones who I KNOW are busy for sure I skip. I scroll through the list of contacts in my phone until I reach the name of the person who’d most likely put in some time to hear silences at my end of the phone. But it never works out. It just doesn’t. Usually endless ringing greets me. And when I get lucky the other end picks up, only for me to discover that the last thing on their mind right now is to cheer me up or “hear” me out. Then I’m ruined for the night. I reach the end of my contacts and pockets my cellphone, often with a heavier heart than when I first started looking. I sink lower in my depression and thus begins a gloomy week.

I have no clue many of my close friends actually read my blog. But it doesn’t seem like ANY of them is. Sometimes that gets to me. Sometimes I get frustrated when they ask how I’ve been when I’ve already poured my heart out through writing. I end up saying “good”, “not bad”, or “okay” because I really don’t know where to start describing how/what I’m feeling. If you had read my blog you’d know.

This whole friendship thing is complicated. It requires too much balancing and reciprocity. I have been known to put too much weight on my friendships. At times I feel the people who I care about doesn’t care about me as much. It is always me who has to go after them. I am always making the sacrifice(s) that’s retaining the friendship(s) together even thought no one’s asking me to make those sacrifices. But if I don’t, friendships will probably disintegrate to a point where we’d become just “facebook friends”.

No matter how subjective all this is, it still feels shitty when there’s no one to talk to at the end of the night. Of course everyone “invest” in relationships differently. So if those who I care about doesn’t care about me as much, maybe I should stay at the same distance and find something/one else who would give me as much in return? Perhaps I should adapt a nonchalant attitude and pretend that everything doesn’t matter, just like how I feel when you don’t put in as much effort.

The sorrow of thinking about the lack of friends who I can talk to can almost be too overwhelming to the point where my original sadness seems infinitesimal, like a water drop in the ocean. I don’t know what to do anymore, except to face things on my own; deal with my own shit before I bother anyone else with it.

I’m totally getting off-topic here… I opened a can of worms and you know how those don’t close! What I originally wanted to say when I first started this entry was that maybe I’m overlooking it. Maybe I’m taking all my friends for granted. Maybe, just maybe, they are not as ignorant as I make them sound. And maybe I should not make this such a big deal (although it has been for a long time). Maybe I should open my eyes and see that there are people who actually care about me (even though most of them are just saying nice things here and there to make me feel that they care when they’re really too busy to care).

Maybe I shouldn’t think the worst of people. Maybe I should stop being such a hypocrite. Maybe I should stop having such high expectations for my friends. And last but not least, maybe I should appreciate them for who they are regardless of how they make me feel.