Ever so often, I would find myself having these mental breakdowns that get triggered by the smallest incident. Feelings of being inept, lazy and stagnant, overwhelmed me. Then, I would compound the negative feelings by beating myself up for being ungrateful for this fortunate life that I have. I know that there are people all over the world who would kill to have what I have in this moment. But… I just can’t ignore the screaming in my head. I can’t ignore the truth. The time has come for me to accept that this life, the life that I have settled into, it just isn’t enough for me. As grateful as I am for it, I know there is more that I am suppose to do. I feel it in the deepest parts of my being.
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Coming of Age; Quarterlife Crisis
"Even tho I have less answers than I did when I was younger. At least now I have a better understanding of my ignorance. And because of that, I am open. I listen. I observe. I leave space for me to be wrong. I let myself evolve.
My realization of the infinite unknown allows me to fly because I no longer believe that it's an absolute fact that I can't. Nothing is absolute. What may be true today may not be true tomorrow. Hold on to nothing except the ability to let go"
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Is it weird that I wrote a love letter to doors?
Why do you intrigue me so? I travel over great distances to see beauty of foreign landscapes, but somehow you always manage to steal some of their attention. Is it just that I suffer from the typical human flaw of wanting what I can’t have? Is my infatuation because you are so rare of a creature where I live? Where I live, we are rich but not wealthy enough to own anything of your quality. Our riches are birthed in being able to have more not better. You have been placed so far out of our grasp that we wouldn’t even know where to look to find you. Because you see, in the land of plenty where I live, it only refers to plenty of cheap, useless shit. oh no, You would be too expensive and too rare for a person like me to have where I live.
But in these foreign lands, people, much less affluent than I, can have you. Is it because they have not yet created valueless substitutions to replace you as they have where I live? They keep you through their whole life and then you live with their kids. Each year becoming more and more enticing, taunting me with the grace of your aging beauty. But where I live, all we have left are soulless substitutions of you; Cloned in rapid succession. None of them have your aura. Getting uglier with every year and every mark.
You were born of skillful labor and care. You were created, not just simply produced. But all we have are soulless substitutions of you. They serve a function but have no purpose. You hold the stories of the lives that dwell behind your protection. You are the first statement of who they are to the outside world. But unfortunately, all we have are soulless substitutions of you. What do they say of us to the outside world? Are we are cheap, utilitarian, soulless creatures. Are we offered up on discount; are we expendable!? It seems like our only source of individually comes from our adornments. Other than that, we are of little difference to one another, with little connection to our creator. Is there no one to take pride in our creation? Has our aura faded into transparency? Are we now just soulless substitutions?
"Love Actually"- The Real Star
Let’s me preface my following statements for those who do not know me intimately. I LOVE movies! The art form serves as a muse for my own creative work. And “Love Actually” is one of my favorites (judge me if you want, but know that I don’t care). The one particular story lines of nine in the now Christmas Classic, that resonate with me, is the one of Jaimie. It speaks to a deep personal desire of mine. No, I have no interest in my wife cheating on me with my brother. Nor do I dream of hooking up with the woman that was imported to work for me after I see her strip down to her undies and jump in a lake and profess my love even though I can’t understand a word she says (thats getting pretty close to crossing the line to human trafficking and prostitution). No, It’s because of the third main character that is never spoken of but is arguably the most compelling element of this whole story.
It’s the space that envelops the unfolding of the love affair; The stage itself. This love story blossoms in a rustic French lake house set in a picturesque countryside. I’ll call the home Madeline. I think anything this beautiful deserves a name. The love scenes would mean nothing if not for the light filtering through her wooden paned windows and resting on the warm white washed plaster walls, the exquisitely carved doors and worn terracotta floors. The home is exponentially enhanced by the rolling hills framing a private lake that sits a few step down from the entrance. What doesn't feel possible in a place like this?
The scenes that stick with me the most are the ones that I crave in my own reality.
Sure, an attractive Portuguese love interest would be awesome, but it’s Madeline that stole my heart. Being able to check out of my day to day reality when things get crazy and escape to arms of my own Madeline have been the plot of my fantasies. She would be my own piece of heaven set in a backdrop of paradise. My inspiration to write, think, dream and create in the warmth her aged soul. The importance of the unspoken character of space and architecture are essential in almost every (great) movie. It’s the character of a movie that although has no speaking parts, tell the anchoring story. For that, this is my ode to “Madeline” in one of my favorite guilty pleasure films.