Ahhh.... the LONG weekend! :D
What better way to start it out than with a movie-night. A movie night that turned into a 1 AM adventure drive through Central Jersey.
I think it's funny how everytime I go out, something... unexpected happens. Last night, I'm driving home, and I KNOW Rich is gonna call me to go out. Sure enough, as I'm driving home, Lupe Fiasco's "Superstar" starts playin on my phone, right on schedule.
We end up heading to Burtucci's...delicious. I had a glass of wine.
We head over to the movies to see, oh yes, CLOVERFIELD, opening night.... and opening night for a hyped movie, at the AMC in Cherry Hill... oh you know you're in for a fun night.
First showing we wanted to do was sold out, so we bought our tickets for the next show an hour later. Had some time to kill, so we head across the highway to the mall. Note to all you locals. When they begin to close the shops, don't figure on getting to your car easily if you park near the JCPenny. Take a West Side Exit, no matter where it is. We howerver went out an EAST entrance, and couldn't get back in when we realized in order to get to the car on the other side of the JC Penny, we'd either have to circumvent the entire 1 million square feet of mall to get our car, OR... hop a fence. I was wearing my good shoes for some reason, my good jeans I didn't wanna rip, so I ran down the block to the end of the fence, and back around. Rich hopped the fence. Yes, I apparently was a wuss. But I was not gonna be arrested last night for looking suspicious...or odd in my good clothes and a cozy scarf...
As I'm making my way back to Rich, I find he's on the phone with a friend who apparently has some paperwork he needs for his NJ for Obama meeting tomorrow, he asks me if I can come along with him after the movie. I said fine I guess... then I learn it's in Princeton, 45 minutes north of us. Now, at the beginning of the evening, I was planning on just dinner and a movie. I had a long-ass week, I was tired and wanted to sleep... I expressed my discontent, but eventually caved for the sake of helping him find the damn place.
We head to the movies, and made our way through the teenage sea of emos, freestylers, and teenyboppers into the theater... which was filled, except for the first three rows. Eventually we agreed that seeing 2 hours of shaky camera and jumpy horror was not going to be pleasant at a screen towering 30 feet above us... We exchanged for the next showing and waited in the line for an hour. [there being a reason for everything, had we stayed, I would not have run into my awesome friend, who was back from school in Seattle and gave us her number, she was seeing '27 Dresses']
The movie was... good. I mean it wasn't great, but it certainly held my attention. I felt like 'Aliens' meets '28 Days Later' meets 'Blair Witch Project' meets (say it with me) GODZILLA. BUT the effects were all but priceless. Like I am ACHING to buy this thing on DVD, and would buy it on High Def to get the full real-time feel for the camera work... on a considerably smaller screen. I will say, it almost hurt to watch the technique for so long. I found myself looking off-screen at the heads in front of me just so I wouldn't get queasy. But the creature was fantastic. Yes, the American explosion-loving sci-fi buff in me got all giddy after we left, there was no need for sleep after that. Ultimately, because of the technique they used, I presumed the very act of rotoscoping each shot to match the movement of the camera as perfectly as it looked must have been more fun than actually watching the movie. It was so LONG, yet I actually left wanting MORE. At least more of the cool stuff. More creature shots, more explanation. Hopefully I'll get my wish with a barrage books I can salivate over at B&N :D defining the creature, pics, drawings, making-of's, possibilities of sequels...perhaps shot with a steady-cam this time...? :), etc.
After we left, we began the hunt for this guy's house. It was 12:30 am, and we decided it was best to not call, as he was probably asleep. It was freezing. Somehow, we found ourselves in a section of Princeton I'd never seen before... a dark place with no street-lamps, dark foreboding houses, no fences, tall skinny trees, and only the glow of Princeton on the clouds above to offer any detail of the landscape. I lost my sense of direction immediately. It wasn't a neighborhood. It was a forest with off-shoot driveways. We eventually found the mailbox, the number worn and eroded, drove up, grabbed the stuff, and high-tailed it out of there before any worrisome rich fools had time to alert the night-watchman after staring at our slow car eyeing each house. So, it was a fun little adventure. After getting home and waking my parents, I slipped out of my coat and cozy scarf and into the best night's sleep of the week.
1/20/08
1/16/08
1/16/08
Sarah left this morning for FL. It's weird thinking she will not be in my direct presence for upwards of 4 months. Between her birth, and now, I've not been away from her for that long a period of time. Given the circumstance of her Disney College Program requirements, she will not be able to come back up here for a good-ol' fashioned NJ visit at all. I miss her already.
I find myself listening to "Shadowland" from the Broadway production soundtrack of Disney's 'The Lion King.' The song is a somber choral adaptation from an instrumental melody in the film. The song speaks of departure, and it's kind of funny how I finally stumbled upon it today. Anything that sounds Jungle-y, like Lion King, or Tarzan, makes me think of Florida and the vacations we've taken there. I greatly appreciate the Lion King, as it is probably the only Disney production I've ever felt ensnared by. Everything else by Disney?... meh. What's different about it? Well, to me, it's like trying to compare it to Snow White and the Seven Dwarves, you just can't. Nor can you compare The Magic Kingdom to Animal Kingdom within the Disney parks. Animal Kingdom was at least in part inspired by the success of The Lion King, and the incredible resonance it has had with all ages.
It's a completely unique folk story, non-western, dramatic, very adult in its allegories, and I didn't really feel too strongly about it until it became a musical, and with that transition, I felt, a very unique approach on the part of Disney. Incorporating tribal art influences, the stylized craft and African appreciation of color, the woodcarving with the gnarled but simplified shapes and motifs of that genre, not to mention the intoxicating musical instrumentation to help echo those motifs. Apply that to the already-mature Disney animated production, and it's entirely refreshing and awe inspiring. The Lion King was probably the first Disney film to make me cry... and if there's one thing I love, it's tears of joy. The music alone makes me want to create my own folk art, 3D if I have to. It's incredibly inspiring.
When the fam and I had the magnificent chance opportunity to stay at the new Animal Kingdom Lodge last June, I was actually taken aback that Disney could make such an engaging and completely detailed themed resort. Everything, and I mean everything in the place is an African Safari-themed art piece, right down to the tile patterns lining the shower walls in the bathroom. Add that to walking the hallways, passing captioned pieces of real tribal and contemporary African art, peering out the window, and seeing a giraffe or zebra grazing in a near-by tree. They've really outdone themselves with this experience. But then again, that's Disney!
1/10/08
1/10/08
Well, that was the most awkward lunch hour of my life. I never figured myself to be the one with issues, but apparently, I complain too much. Jen just gave me the tough love talk, I'm not sure it helped...
Let me explain...
I need to vent. And it seems I have a lot to vent about. The last time I vented this much, it was into a journal after my second break-up two years ago. And my God, was that a good vent.
I basically bought a journal and tore into it all the frustrations, pains, joys, hate, and guilt I usually unloaded on my friends. It was a wiser choice, considering the fact that a lot of my friends were becoming greatly angered and frustrated with me.
My personal question is, why am I so angry, obsessed, frustrated? Am I getting laid enough? No... maybe that's it. But getting laid only creates more issues to unload about. No... it's something else.
I want to PAINT. I want to paint, and become the best painter I can be. Better than all those who make me insanely jealous on ConceptArt.org. And in ORDER to paint, I need three things:
1) Time - This is probably the most important. Even for digital painting in Photoshop, there is a great need to sit down for endless hours to just express away. I never get time, and it's pissing me off, big time.
2) Space - I need a place for work, for inspiration, for quiet contemplation or music. My room is about 50 percent this. While it holds as a great place to get inspiration, it is not condusive to spreading out and getting comfortable for work. It is NOT devoid of interruptions from parents, friends, the dog...
3) Energy - In order to create energy, one must spend it. Exercise is an excellent conduit for creating energy, it builds energy. Do I ever exercise? I used to. I don't seem to muster enough gusto to do it now, and I'm not sure why. This is a problem. When I want to work, I am always exhausted, simply because I don't get enough exercise...
So in this, I think the real issue is getting exercise. I am by no means overweight, just lethargic. It's a matter of getting up and doing it, which is the hardest part. Why do I hesitate? I don't like dealing with the after effects of exercise, the shower, the sweating, the aching body, the gasping for air... yet somehow I always feel better afterward, and I forget this. I feel good after because it feels like I accomplished something, that I'm actually doing something positive. WHY IS THIS NOT MOTIVATION ENOUGH TO DO IT IN THE FIRST PLACE!?
Well...I guess it's because I don't seem to have enough time, or space...
Let me explain...
I need to vent. And it seems I have a lot to vent about. The last time I vented this much, it was into a journal after my second break-up two years ago. And my God, was that a good vent.
I basically bought a journal and tore into it all the frustrations, pains, joys, hate, and guilt I usually unloaded on my friends. It was a wiser choice, considering the fact that a lot of my friends were becoming greatly angered and frustrated with me.
My personal question is, why am I so angry, obsessed, frustrated? Am I getting laid enough? No... maybe that's it. But getting laid only creates more issues to unload about. No... it's something else.
I want to PAINT. I want to paint, and become the best painter I can be. Better than all those who make me insanely jealous on ConceptArt.org. And in ORDER to paint, I need three things:
1) Time - This is probably the most important. Even for digital painting in Photoshop, there is a great need to sit down for endless hours to just express away. I never get time, and it's pissing me off, big time.
2) Space - I need a place for work, for inspiration, for quiet contemplation or music. My room is about 50 percent this. While it holds as a great place to get inspiration, it is not condusive to spreading out and getting comfortable for work. It is NOT devoid of interruptions from parents, friends, the dog...
3) Energy - In order to create energy, one must spend it. Exercise is an excellent conduit for creating energy, it builds energy. Do I ever exercise? I used to. I don't seem to muster enough gusto to do it now, and I'm not sure why. This is a problem. When I want to work, I am always exhausted, simply because I don't get enough exercise...
So in this, I think the real issue is getting exercise. I am by no means overweight, just lethargic. It's a matter of getting up and doing it, which is the hardest part. Why do I hesitate? I don't like dealing with the after effects of exercise, the shower, the sweating, the aching body, the gasping for air... yet somehow I always feel better afterward, and I forget this. I feel good after because it feels like I accomplished something, that I'm actually doing something positive. WHY IS THIS NOT MOTIVATION ENOUGH TO DO IT IN THE FIRST PLACE!?
Well...I guess it's because I don't seem to have enough time, or space...
1/9/08
1/9/08
It's hard to escape the office around you, and focus on the task at hand. The task at hand currently being writing a blog entry. Granted, I should not be writing a blog entry while at the office, but in some fashion, this is work. It is an exploration of expression, and while my job most usually follows visual exploration, I play the copywriter here and there.
I am frustrated. This simple fact has helped me ruin my own day. Though I am a firm believer in keeping a good attitude, positive thoughts positive things so to speak, I can't help but grouse right now.
Why am I frustrated? Several reasons.
Job Stress
Life Stress
Social Stress
Personal Stress
The Job Stress is nothing compared to Life Stress, which basically puts me in this continual loop of paranoia and guilt. The reason today is this. Mother and Sister are attending a show in NYC tonight. I'm not joining them, much to my happiness, as I can't stand wasting my days and nights with something. To get me out of my own room is a task in itself, and the longer I am out of my room, the more I yearn to get back. Anyway, my mother has decided that they will NOT take the train at the late hour the show gets out, and as a result, they will have to be picked up, by my father, who has to drive 2 hours into the city, and 2 hours back home.
Needless to say my mother wishes me to accompany my father on the long drive tonight, should something happen. The striking guilt of denying such a waste of my time comes in when my father too has requested I go.
Am I so selfish? Am I that bound by my passions to not spend 4 and a half hours in a car tonight, when I could be researching my own art style, painting even, relaxing, sleeping, enjoying a drink and a good movie? The truth is, yes, I am a slave to my own hobbies.
Why the unsocial hobbit-like existance? Mostly because of past relationships. I was an unsocial creature in High School and College. After commencement, I found my first of 4 loves, and after the most recent 4th, two years later, I find myself closing off from the world. Retreating into my small hovel of a room, in the house of my parents, the same room I've had since we moved to New Jersey when I was a child of four. Social Stress.
Nightly, I embrace the warm walls of my room, that sanctuary of a slice of heaven, a place for creativity, entertainment, and luxury, my own private Margaritaville, devoid of the corruptions of a tempting lover, the noisy annoyances of my own friendly banter. Oh sure, I get the urge to go out every now and again... eventually. But the fact remains, I enjoy my solitude. I'm a less grumpy Shrek, enjoying the privacy of his swamp, though seemingly, I continually have annoying donkeys yelling and pounding on the door. My loving family.
To move out would be a timeless gift, I feel. Able to live completely free. I'll worry about health-risks, and hospice when I'm older. Alas, I can't afford it, not with my paycheck. I'd take freelance, but as I avoid my friends sometimes, so too, I avoid clients. If there were something more annoying than friends, it's friends who are paying you to do something.
Is it everyman's dream to completely be devoid of responsibility? I know it's my dream. Able to live spontaneously for my entire existence. I've done the job thing, it has its perks, but I feel living with my family, and having a job where the diversity of projects is as rare as snow in Vegas has sapped me of my motivation. Motivation is built on the notion that you are striving for something, an end goal.
What happens when your goal is just not that enticing? When your motivation is superceded by apathy? When you find yourself completely complacent in life, and your directional compass just spins out of control?
Such is my life.
I write today to try and understand where I'm headed. So far I've not figured anything out in these long-winded beginning paragraphs much more than the fact that I have issues. So let's just move on.
Personal Stress. What happens when I get to the room? First, I drop the messenger bag. In the bag, a sketchbook 90% empty, the iPod, an "Art Journal" a recent investment of mine, which seems to be working out nicely. In which, I write my art thoughts, and list art ideas in a list on the back. I get my nap in usually before dinner. But once dinner is done, I seem to be done for the night. I found that it is good to exercise to promote, not only good health, but a hightened energy when coming up with art. As an Illustrator, it is imperative to have an open mind to new and different concepts... which I can't seem to come up with most of the time.
No, I end up crashing in front of the computer till about 12:00 am when I get up, feel angry at myself for not having done anything. But it is at Midnight that I also come up with the desire to research, and hopefully come up with a good idea. It's strange how this happens everynight after I should have gone to bed. It's as if my body WANTS to work after the hour I should shut it down. So many times at around 12-1 have I just wanted to get up and go for a jog, which I obviously don't, as it's too late, the prowlers and abductees, sickos, and cops are out to kill, rob, maim, stare, beat up... Yea I'll have none of that. Hrm, in hindsight, when I have that energy, instead of retiring to a book or bed and just zone out in front of the TV or computer, I should do the Tae Bo I always speak of.
But needless to say, it's frustrating when I save all that time at night to work, and nothing actually happens. But we know why. Art is not made without actually making art. And in order to make art, you have to swallow your perfectionism, and just hope for the best.
---
It was lunch hour, and I took a small break. I sat in the car on this gorgeous 65 degree winter day, turned on the iPod, cracked open a Monster I bought in the Cafe earlier (cause they didn't have the Lo Cal one I like) and just zoned out for a little while.
I feel a lot better... kind of.
I'm still angry that I have to go on the damn car trip tonight, as I really hate wasting a night. I haven't had one night this week to myself yet, and I feel completely angry. Tomorrow night's booked. I'm doing a bowling thing with coworkers. Ugh, I hate this. I never get the load of free time to really delve into digital painting that I want to.
I guess being an Artist is synonymous with frustration, at least someone concerned with originality. There's a fun word. A fun issue. Originality. Art comes so naturally to those who are hardly original. But for me, at least, I can't seem to do work that's not completely new or different, as I tend to get bored with drawing or painting something that already has been done... which is everything. A conundrum, to be sure.
But there is hope. Monday night, I was reading Art & Fear by David Bayles and Ted Orland, and basically it said very logically, you can never get bored with you. Like, painting entirely what I hold interesting will... duh... interest me, and will keep me interested. When I think about it, the way I did so many things in the past was because something or other kept my interest. And there were a lot of things that did so, in HS and in College. Now... it seems my interests are limited, but I shouldn't waste my time trying to paint dwarves or robots if they just... don't do it for me.
Nay, I need something completely Jim, something oddball, yet realistic. Something... provocative.
Wow, this entry is a large one. But I feel like half of my adult life story is in here. It was good to let it all out, I feel. Good to rant and rave.
...even though I'm at work.
I am frustrated. This simple fact has helped me ruin my own day. Though I am a firm believer in keeping a good attitude, positive thoughts positive things so to speak, I can't help but grouse right now.
Why am I frustrated? Several reasons.
Job Stress
Life Stress
Social Stress
Personal Stress
The Job Stress is nothing compared to Life Stress, which basically puts me in this continual loop of paranoia and guilt. The reason today is this. Mother and Sister are attending a show in NYC tonight. I'm not joining them, much to my happiness, as I can't stand wasting my days and nights with something. To get me out of my own room is a task in itself, and the longer I am out of my room, the more I yearn to get back. Anyway, my mother has decided that they will NOT take the train at the late hour the show gets out, and as a result, they will have to be picked up, by my father, who has to drive 2 hours into the city, and 2 hours back home.
Needless to say my mother wishes me to accompany my father on the long drive tonight, should something happen. The striking guilt of denying such a waste of my time comes in when my father too has requested I go.
Am I so selfish? Am I that bound by my passions to not spend 4 and a half hours in a car tonight, when I could be researching my own art style, painting even, relaxing, sleeping, enjoying a drink and a good movie? The truth is, yes, I am a slave to my own hobbies.
Why the unsocial hobbit-like existance? Mostly because of past relationships. I was an unsocial creature in High School and College. After commencement, I found my first of 4 loves, and after the most recent 4th, two years later, I find myself closing off from the world. Retreating into my small hovel of a room, in the house of my parents, the same room I've had since we moved to New Jersey when I was a child of four. Social Stress.
Nightly, I embrace the warm walls of my room, that sanctuary of a slice of heaven, a place for creativity, entertainment, and luxury, my own private Margaritaville, devoid of the corruptions of a tempting lover, the noisy annoyances of my own friendly banter. Oh sure, I get the urge to go out every now and again... eventually. But the fact remains, I enjoy my solitude. I'm a less grumpy Shrek, enjoying the privacy of his swamp, though seemingly, I continually have annoying donkeys yelling and pounding on the door. My loving family.
To move out would be a timeless gift, I feel. Able to live completely free. I'll worry about health-risks, and hospice when I'm older. Alas, I can't afford it, not with my paycheck. I'd take freelance, but as I avoid my friends sometimes, so too, I avoid clients. If there were something more annoying than friends, it's friends who are paying you to do something.
Is it everyman's dream to completely be devoid of responsibility? I know it's my dream. Able to live spontaneously for my entire existence. I've done the job thing, it has its perks, but I feel living with my family, and having a job where the diversity of projects is as rare as snow in Vegas has sapped me of my motivation. Motivation is built on the notion that you are striving for something, an end goal.
What happens when your goal is just not that enticing? When your motivation is superceded by apathy? When you find yourself completely complacent in life, and your directional compass just spins out of control?
Such is my life.
I write today to try and understand where I'm headed. So far I've not figured anything out in these long-winded beginning paragraphs much more than the fact that I have issues. So let's just move on.
Personal Stress. What happens when I get to the room? First, I drop the messenger bag. In the bag, a sketchbook 90% empty, the iPod, an "Art Journal" a recent investment of mine, which seems to be working out nicely. In which, I write my art thoughts, and list art ideas in a list on the back. I get my nap in usually before dinner. But once dinner is done, I seem to be done for the night. I found that it is good to exercise to promote, not only good health, but a hightened energy when coming up with art. As an Illustrator, it is imperative to have an open mind to new and different concepts... which I can't seem to come up with most of the time.
No, I end up crashing in front of the computer till about 12:00 am when I get up, feel angry at myself for not having done anything. But it is at Midnight that I also come up with the desire to research, and hopefully come up with a good idea. It's strange how this happens everynight after I should have gone to bed. It's as if my body WANTS to work after the hour I should shut it down. So many times at around 12-1 have I just wanted to get up and go for a jog, which I obviously don't, as it's too late, the prowlers and abductees, sickos, and cops are out to kill, rob, maim, stare, beat up... Yea I'll have none of that. Hrm, in hindsight, when I have that energy, instead of retiring to a book or bed and just zone out in front of the TV or computer, I should do the Tae Bo I always speak of.
But needless to say, it's frustrating when I save all that time at night to work, and nothing actually happens. But we know why. Art is not made without actually making art. And in order to make art, you have to swallow your perfectionism, and just hope for the best.
---
It was lunch hour, and I took a small break. I sat in the car on this gorgeous 65 degree winter day, turned on the iPod, cracked open a Monster I bought in the Cafe earlier (cause they didn't have the Lo Cal one I like) and just zoned out for a little while.
I feel a lot better... kind of.
I'm still angry that I have to go on the damn car trip tonight, as I really hate wasting a night. I haven't had one night this week to myself yet, and I feel completely angry. Tomorrow night's booked. I'm doing a bowling thing with coworkers. Ugh, I hate this. I never get the load of free time to really delve into digital painting that I want to.
I guess being an Artist is synonymous with frustration, at least someone concerned with originality. There's a fun word. A fun issue. Originality. Art comes so naturally to those who are hardly original. But for me, at least, I can't seem to do work that's not completely new or different, as I tend to get bored with drawing or painting something that already has been done... which is everything. A conundrum, to be sure.
But there is hope. Monday night, I was reading Art & Fear by David Bayles and Ted Orland, and basically it said very logically, you can never get bored with you. Like, painting entirely what I hold interesting will... duh... interest me, and will keep me interested. When I think about it, the way I did so many things in the past was because something or other kept my interest. And there were a lot of things that did so, in HS and in College. Now... it seems my interests are limited, but I shouldn't waste my time trying to paint dwarves or robots if they just... don't do it for me.
Nay, I need something completely Jim, something oddball, yet realistic. Something... provocative.
Wow, this entry is a large one. But I feel like half of my adult life story is in here. It was good to let it all out, I feel. Good to rant and rave.
...even though I'm at work.
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