Showing posts with label quote. Show all posts
Showing posts with label quote. Show all posts

Monday, April 29, 2013

the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth...

this is the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth.




a phenomenal time to be living in the digital age, but at the same time, a scary time for any photographer who grew up, learned and broke into the scene using a film camera.

and I'm proud to be guilty of being such a person.

For many "old school" photographers, the ease and practicality of digital photography casts a dark cloud over many who have recently taken up "the camera", and decided to call themselves "professional photographers' with little or no training.
The web is bedlamized with these people and their sites. Their claim to fame and ruthless bid for your attention.

The market is now over saturated, but perhaps in that plethora of 'Wanna Be Richard Avedons' the true gems really shine.

Those artists who truly have a vision, a unique way of viewing the world around them, these are the people who can take a square metal box, some photo sensitive plastic and turn that into pure magic.


Thank you to a wonderful fellow photographer who knows what real film is all about for reminding what it's all about and why i can't live without my box of plastic and metal...

shine like you are

Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our light, not our darkness, that most frightens us. Your playing small does not serve the world. There is nothing enlightened about shrinking so that other people won't feel insecure around you. We are all meant to shine as children do. It's not just in some of us; it is in everyone. And as we let our own lights shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same. As we are liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates others .
(Timo Cruz)



Sunday, November 29, 2009

Buddhist Shmoodist or slavery to a pattern

This kills me...
It just keeps on getting better/worse.

Why do i even bother?
At this point, I don't even know. Perhaps it's a distraction in the light of the diagnosis of mom's scan this friday. Or perhaps it's the hopeless romantic in me who thinks that one day he will wake up and see that he has a daughter who is still willing to unconditionally welcome him into her broken heart no matter how many times he trampled and ripped it apart.

but this is getting closer to the final straw.

His post on fb:

Great debate I was in at my Tibet/Buddhism course here in Mt.Tremblant yesterday. Had a great workout this morning at the gym and now heading into St.Jovite for afternoon of Billard training from a pro in preparations on our every Monday nights league. No time for retirement!!!!!! Mimi working as usual with the Swine H1N1 vaccinations...

My reply/post

I had studied Tibetan Buddhism when i did my religion minor in University d must say that is a fascinating religion of pure, yet difficult doctrines for the lay man to follow. Practice is a long journey which requires much study and discipline. I'm very surprised that you are taking a course. Good for you! Perhaps of benefit to you (and to those that were once close to you) would be a careful examination and practice of the Six Paramitas as this is the path of the Bodhisattva—one who is dedicated to serving the highest welfare of all living beings with the awakened heart of unconditional love, skillful wisdom, and all-embracing compassion, but following this path takes patience, which is in itself is the heart of the Buddhist path which requires courage, patience, flexibility and intelligence. Good luck and namaste.

and when I went to check the next day if he had commented on it - he had deleted it.


Fucken deleted it.


I knew that it might rattle his cage and wanted this to be a litmus test of his continuing hostility towards me, all the while putting up this front that he is on the path to enlightment.

and he calls a treadmill a "threadmill".

Oh you have no clue how tempted I am to write:
"it's a TREADMILL not a Threadmill you douchebag"

but I am sitting on my hands to keep from typing it, for now...


but in the meantime, i might just post this in my status.

Just for kicks...






I stopped loving my father a long time ago. What remained was the slavery to a pattern.
Anais Nin 








Thursday, October 22, 2009

this could not have come at a better time...

This is a brilliant post by the amazing actress Glenn Close.

I thank her for writing this.

it needed to be said, and i could not have imagined of a better time than today to stumble up this.




Mental illness and I are no strangers.
From Alex Forrest in Fatal Attraction to Blanche Dubois in A Streetcar Named Desire to Norma Desmond in Andrew Lloyd Weber's Sunset Boulevard, I've had the challenge -- and the privilege -- of playing characters who have deep psychological wounds. Some people think that Alex is a borderline personality. I think Blanche suffers from post-traumatic stress disorder and everyone knows that Norma is delusional.

I also have the challenge of confronting the far less entertaining reality of mental illness in my own family. As I've written and spoken about before, my sister suffers from a bipolar disorder and my nephew from schizoaffective disorder. There has, in fact, been a lot of depression and alcoholism in my family and, traditionally, no one ever spoke about it. It just wasn't done. The stigma is toxic. And, like millions of others who live with mental illness in their families, I've seen what they endure: the struggle of just getting through the day, and the hurt caused every time someone casually describes someone as "crazy," "nuts," or "psycho".

Even as the medicine and therapy for mental health disorders have made remarkable progress, the ancient social stigma of psychological illness remains largely intact. Families are loath to talk about it and, in movies and the media, stereotypes about the mentally ill still reign.

Whether it is Norman Bates in Psycho, Jack Torrance in The Shining, or Kathy Bates' portrayal of Annie Wilkes in Misery, scriptwriters invariably tell us that the mentally ill are dangerous threats who must be contained, if not destroyed. It makes for thrilling entertainment.

There are some notable exceptions, of course -- Dustin Hoffman in Rainman, or Russell Crowe's portrayal of John Nash in A Beautiful Mind. But more often than not, the movie or TV version of someone suffering from a mental disorder is a sociopath who must be stopped.
Alex Forrest is considered by most people to be evil incarnate. People still come up to me saying how much she terrified them. Yet in my research into her behavior, I only ended up empathizing with her. She was a human being in great psychological pain who definitely needed meds. I consulted with several psychiatrists to better understand the "whys" of what she did and learned that she was far more dangerous to herself than to others.

The original ending of Fatal Attraction actually had Alex commit suicide. But that didn't "test" well. Alex had terrified the audiences and they wanted her punished for it. A tortured and self-destructive Alex was too upsetting. She had to be blown away.

So, we went back and shot the now famous bathroom scene. A knife was put into Alex's hand, making her a dangerous psychopath. When the wife shot her in self-defense, the audience was given catharsis through bloodshed -- Alex's blood. And everyone felt safe again.

The ending worked. It was thrilling and the movie was a big hit. But it sent a misleading message about the reality of mental illness.

It is an odd paradox that a society, which can now speak openly and unabashedly about topics that were once unspeakable, still remains largely silent when it comes to mental illness. This month, for example, NFL players are rumbling onto the field in pink cleats and sweatbands to raise awareness about breast cancer. On December 1st, World AIDS Day will engage political and health care leaders from every part of the globe. Illnesses that were once discussed only in hushed tones are now part of healthy conversation and activism.

Yet when it comes to bipolar disorder, post-traumatic stress, schizophrenia or depression, an uncharacteristic coyness takes over. We often say nothing. The mentally ill frighten and embarrass us. And so we marginalize the people who most need our acceptance.

What mental health needs is more sunlight, more candor, more unashamed conversation about illnesses that affect not only individuals, but their families as well. Our society ought to understand that many people with mental illness, given the right treatment, can be full participants in our society. Anyone who doubts it ought to listen to Kay Redfield Jamison, a psychiatry professor at Johns Hopkins, vividly describe her own battles with bipolar disorder.

Over the last year, I have worked with some visionary groups to start BringChange2Mind.org, an organization that strives to inspire people to start talking openly about mental illness, to break through the silence and fear. We have the support of every major, American mental health organization and numerous others.

I have no illusions that BringChange2Mind.org is a cure for mental illness. Yet I am sure it will help us along the road to understanding and constructive dialogue. It will help deconstruct and eliminate stigma.

The World Health Organization (WHO) estimates that by the year 2020 mental illness will be the second leading cause of death and disability. Every society will have to confront the issue. The question is, will we face it with open honesty or silence?

Sunday, October 11, 2009

ride the dragon

life has been chaotic these past few days and I have no clue why.


Usually, there is a direct corelation between my mood and what is going on around in my world, but lately, things have been, well, quiet. Non eventful. Mom saw her doctor who is sending her for scans in November (our little 3 month window has opened up wider for a few weeks), but no real "news". A follow up of sorts. So there was no real reason to get anxious.

but i am, and it's rough.
I have not swung this high or low in many many months. I'm thinking back to maybe a year, or two? And I'm not even taking the extra Welburtin that the doc prescribed to me. I don't even want to think what that would be like. When i tried it two years ago, I was flying into walls, and if i decided to augment my dose now, i might fly off of buildings or bridges.

so i try to put one foot in front of the other but I can't help but to be very nervous that at any moment, my manic instinct will kick in and i'll be running in the other direction, well, actually, with no direction in particular, in circles perhaps, until i collapse into a heavy weeping mess, looking to get lost in the spaces between horrible thoughts of suicide and exalted grandeur.

last night, I happened to stumble upon the movie - Control.

I had watched the whole film about a year ago, and it still affects me deeply. An instant vivid snap into a time in my life when death was a welcome respite from the exhausting whirling orbit of fear and elation that i lived every moment of every day for months on end. The fact that it is so breathtakingly beautiful to look at did not help to pull me away from not watching it, but as a result, i regressed to the tender age of 16, when life should have been full of promise and possibilities, but was devoid of life and hope, and where suicide was the only path to calm and rest.

15 minutes was all it took, and time began to warp.

And what i find odd was that my regression into these dark memories began during the point in the movie when the band is actually doing quite well; their career is taking off, interest in their music is growing, and the young men from Manchester are still filled with hope and optimism.

Just like i was once, a long long time ago.

"you know, E, the thought of suicide is never far enough in my brain. It's always "this" close to moving into the liquid plasma of my current existence. It's never far enough, and that scares me."

i silently wept as he lay on the couch. He was too buzzed after a night of jamming with the guys to truly grasp what i was saying, and I am not angry at him for that; it's the exact opposite - I feel sorry for him that he has to live with such a ticking time bomb.

when i was 16, Ian Curtis' deep oily crooning of life left unfinished resonated with something almost primal in my soul. Beyond the words, beyond the tempo, a mysterious and macabre comfort connected me to him. He got to complete what he wanted to end before i did. Each song is a testament to this.

Sometimes i am thankful for that, sometimes i envy him for beating me to the finish line.


Thursday, July 24, 2008

in the blink of an eye, she was gone




“There is a theory which states that if ever for any reason anyone discovers what exactly the Universe is for and why it is here it will instantly disappear and be replaced by something even more bizarre and inexplicable. There is another that states that this has already happened.”

Douglas Adams

taking a little hiatus for a week or so, or more.
Need time to process things. Need time to rest.

Friday, June 20, 2008

late late night ramblings are the best ramblings of this catatonic photographer

.
.

"A man should write for all he is worth, about whatever state
he is in at the time, however little he knows about it. You only stumble on poetic truth in the dark, in the light it is too easy to step around it."

P J Kavanagh.



this should be my new profile blurb


and I will post this on my wall, in gigantic letters to remind me every day the reasons why I continue to keep this blog.