hello stranger.

Between You and E B

E B December 23 at 10:00pm

hey patty fowler

do you know when you come home from france?

Patrick Fowler December 23 at 10:11pm

why yes i do.

may 11 :)

E B December 23 at 10:15pm

okay, and when do you leave us?

Patrick Fowler December 23 at 10:20pm

feb 17

E B December 23 at 10:30pm

ohkay. I felt like saying ohkay instead of okay.

Patrick Fowler December 23 at 10:32pm
bahah why do you ask?

E B  December 23 at 11:29pm
im not sure. first I was like "lets talk starry night" and then I was like "but hes gone" and then I was like "oh I will miss him.. I wonder when hes gone.."

Patrick Fowler December 27 at 8:13pm

i kinda dont want to go anymore :( but ohwell..

and yah. ill be gone which sucks major.

E B  December 27 at 9:37pm

does it have to do with your dad?

Patrick Fowler December 27 at 9:44pm

me not wanting to go? hell nah. if anything, he makes me WANT to go.

im just kinda over it? i mean with the whole disatrous hosting experience.. i dont know. i wont know the kid where im going, and i wont know the fam and.. yah.. and he lives ain a rural area and theyre not going to do much travelling while im there.. and the list goes on.

 E B December 27 at 9:46pm

when you describe it all,

I think of it as something I want to do.

thinking time.

time just to sit there in some simple place and reflect on everything.

reflect on everything I've done, school, work and relationships..

figure life out..

figure out where I want to go in life..

do some self discovery..

and come back wiser.. and with a better understanding of myself.. and a new sense of maturity.

I'd really like that. like a break from real life. with better food.

Patrick Fowler December 27 at 9:49pm

hmm. when you put it like that..

but still. i dont want peace and quiet, and i dont want empty time.. i want.. well.. i dont know what i want. i just like high paced and excitement. i want to see a ton of new places and meet new people. meh. but im committed to going, so i guess we'll see what comes out of it.

E B  December 27 at 9:50pm

find love. you should do that.

Patrick Fowler December 27 at 9:52pm

in a foreign country for three months and then it become a figment of my past? not too appealing. plus. love scares me.

E B December 27 at 9:57pm

watch one week with joshua jackson. you'll understand and the movie doesn't have to do with love. search for moments.

Patrick Fowler December 27 at 10:00pm

hmm. ill be renting that asap.

and finding moments in my life is somethign i need to work on. i like to speed through things, and get as many experiences as possible without enjoying any of them.



Thank you, E B, for this electronic conversation featuring your van city meets t-town wisdom

first class uneasiness.

Currently 4:55 p.m. as I write this sentence.  And I am going to try to keep this grammatically and structurely sound.

So I haven't blogged in a while.. and thats because I haven't been motivated to write anything.. what the hell is wrong with me?!
Really though, I have never been to anti everything before.  I don't want to get up in the morning, I don't want to go to bed at night, I don't want to eat, I don't want to text, I don't want to do photography, I don't want to blog, and I don't even want to go on facebook.. is this what they call depression?  Well.. I certainly hope not because that would suck major.
But I think I'm happy enough? I mean, I don't FEEL sad, or mad, or anything.. actually.. I don't really feel anything.  I'm kind of numb..

Except when I have reason to be.  This is going to sound like it's contradicting previously written sentences.. because it does..  I feel happy when I'm with my friends, when I'm looking at my little sister laugh and discover new things, etc.. but in those inbetween bits and whatelses, I feel nothing..

That may sound as if I'm crazy and belong in a psych ward, but it won't make sense to you unless it's happening to you, I think.

But enough with that.

This week is going to be nuts, crazy, and all those other words.  It's new year's week which means I have something going on every single day.   EVERY. SINGLE. DAY.    How am I going to survive?
Last night commenced the festivities, with a big holiday bash at my good friend M.R.'s house. I had a good time.  Yelled at some people and made situations extremely awkward pineapple.  But, had a good time nonetheless.
Then this morning, I went for a wonderfully delicious brunch with fellow G Crew members.. which seems to dwindle every time we get together..  I'll  have to blog about them sometime in the future, because that group of people literally changed my life.

France Update
So, I am going on exchange to France this February to May and my hosting experience didn't go so well, i.e. the blog about the exchange student.  BUT, I got my rematch.  I will be travelling to Marigny les Usages, a small town close to Orleans (1.5 hours south west of Paris).  And, unfortunately.. I'm not all that excited..

After going through what I did for three months of hosting, I have kind of been turned off..  my excitement no longer exists.. I'm even procrastinating getting all my paper work done :|
The thing is, I don't know the kid I'm going to live with so I know nothing about his family or his personality or whether or not we will get along.. Maybe I'm just stressing too much.. I hope.  I also hope I get excited about this whole experience.

currently 3:28 AM as i write this sentence. 

my night:
awkward turtle.  legit though.
alberto the lion?
apples to apples, cranium.. i failed to win.. ever.
stalkers and creepers were a common occurence.
pistachios, grapefruit, oatmeal chocolate chip cookies.   awesomeness.
court's hot holy cross highschool date.   basically rape.
driving in a car.. random
MB's house.. random
wierdweird that word is wierd/weird..? i dont really know whats going on..   aaaand its weird
BH is goldddd.    his face.   he found my shirt in someone elses drawer.. he didnt like.. then i told him it was mine.. more awkward.
hallway hangouts = love.  
winning card games = more love.
salty dough.  acccttttually.  fucking delicious.
just so you know.
ali hearts me.
and she likes that.
she really does.
she aint lieing.
she wouldnt do that shit.
seriously now.

loving life in the early morn.. :|   lies..
sams sleeping.. ali's sleeping.. im blogging.
and everything is as it should be.

p.s. ali's voice is heavenly.

goodbyes.

i now live with my mother..
i thought that was blog worthy.

french cocoa

currentttltllll l l r welkbwepvibrepivbqpebv ...
lets just cut to the chase.

I AM ECSTATIC!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
legit though.   i dont know how im even managing to type this because my blood is zipping through my body at 100 mph.

soooooooooo.   I got an email today.
And it said I find out who my new match is for France in all of FOUR DAYS.   this is thrilling.
And do you know what else is in FOUR DAYS???????????
CHRISTMAS BREAK!!!!!!!!!!!!  also thrilling.
i know ive said in the past how much i hate winter and cold and snow and all that jazz,
and well.   that was all truth.
except i forgot to mention that I LOVE CHRISTMAS>   everything about it from jesus' 2042nd bday to just sitting by the fire sipping hot chocolate.  ahhhhh.  gotta love the holidays.

Now something with a bit more substance.  I believe in calling Christmas, Christmas.  Because thats what it is.  Mind you, I also believe to call it Christmas within your own families, or social groups or whatever, because the thruth is, other people celebrate other holidays at this time, i.e. kwanza, hannukah, etc.  So i think a nice happy holidays is good to hear.
HOWEVER, I also believe that if you are not religious, as in you do not believe in the birth of Jesus Christ (shout out!!), that you shouldn't be celebrating 'Christmas'.  You probably shouldn't be celebrating at all actually.  I vote that you dont buy a christmas tree and that you dont get christmas presents, etc etc.   Rather, set up something thats important to what you believe in or something important to your family and celebrate THAT, not materialistic items

so I will leave you with one of my fave CHRISTMAS songs, Grown Up Christmas List (version sung by Kelly Clarkson).  CHECK IT OUT RIGHT NOW!!!!

to blond, i will miss thee

currently 8:09 PM as i write this sentence..

and i thought i should let everyone know that boys who have girlfriends should not be flirting with other chickies.

and at about 9:00 PM central time, I will have dark, brown hair.

:)

gray tears with a distant memory.

childhood.

something i dearly miss
and something gone forever.

time doesn't turn back and experiences can never be redone. regrets will never be fixed
and playtime is over.

the playground remains as it is
a playground
but we change it accordingly just as the age we are changes.
our innocence has been eaten away by all of our wrong doings, mature sights by an immature soul
adding years each day.

and now,
all I want is to take back those years. shed them and just be a kid.

becasue now that I am not.
I can never be.
And that scares me.

I just want my stresses to be eased
my worries to be relieved
my woes to be soothed.

I want for everyone to exist simultaneously without disrupting drama.

i want sandboxes
i want finger paints.

and i know i can want to any extent
and i also know that no amount of want will make things happen.
and i have come to realize that time ticks

and ticks and doesn't stop.

and what once was,
Was
and will never be again.

I am not a child anymore.
I am not a child.

I was a child.
I was.

A memory in my heart is engraved.
But like a pebble in the ocean,
it will be smoothed away.

And my wishes
and my dreams
and my goals
and my aspirations
and every thing I ever thought of
in my vast imagination

will also be smoothed away
in order for grown up thinking to take over.

I can feel it happening.
the smoothing.
the pushing away of a beautiful life
and a world of happiness

And a sea of gray
envelops my mind
And the drowning commences
As my tears drift into the abyss
Adding to the tears of every adult
before me.

and I have become
A man.

A man who was once a child.
A man who will never be a child again

beautiful bias.

These city confinements are crushing me. Living in a small town is bad enough as it is, but when you have higher dreams and aspirations, a population of 18 500 won't do much for you. Oh Thorold, how I love thee. The other T Dot as some call it, when in reality all I long for is to actualy be in the real t dot. Toronto that is. This is Canada for goodness sake. Los Angeles or New York would be a little unrealistic... erm.. more unrealisitic.
But lets face it. Theres really not much to do here in the Niagara peninsula. Sure i could go see the falls, or look at the canal. But I've done that. I need bigger. Better. I used to have all these plans about getting famous and leaving here for 'the big city'. Making it big. Seeing my name in lights. Seeing ME projected by lights. I had it all planned out. Step one. Get an agent.

Okay, so thats been an epic fail. I still don't have an agent, even after 6 years of planning.

Step 2. Get my big break. Also yet to happen..

Its safe to say that this dream has fizzled. majorly. But yet, I cant seem to get it out of my head. Its ALWAYS there. Like something that needs to be dealt with immediately, or it will persist. Whenever I think about me and the future, fame is always included in the path. I can lie to myself, which i usually do, and say I'll go to university, and get a career in the real world, and be successful that way. But I know that im lieing. The thing is. I want fame. I NEED fame. It seems to be apart of me now, which is starnge for someone who has never had it.

I see these young actors and singers and dancers, and i envy them. i am filled with jealousy, and compare myself to them (me always coming out unscathed). "Oh man, I couldv'e done that way better". Story of my life. But i know that I'll probably never get the chance to actually prove that.

And as I'm stuck in dream world, life goes on. Hollywood waits for no one... unless of course, you were born into the business, or you bought the time becasue you were born into a rich family, or because your parents pimped you out from birth.

And boy do I wish my parents pimped me.

So for now, I am still looking for that special someone.. ahem.. agent that is. And then maybe my dreams might become illuminated in reality as they always have been in my mindless slumbers.

a whorse and pet goose.

Currently 7:38 PM as I write this sentence.  And for some reason I think I have been spelling sentence wrong.. I'll have to check on that.  It doesn't look right.    * I WAS spelling sentence wrong.  Silly me. So I changed it.

What has taken months to prepare is gone.   The play has finished, and although all of a couple weeks ago I couldn't wait to be free of it, the last couple of days have made me really miss it.  Really, really miss it.

I have made amazing friends through this process and although I feel like the process of making them took a little longer than normal, I think the friendships made are far stronger than I originally planned.  I am truly going to miss seeing them every day.. what am I going to do with myself..

So enough with my depressions and how about some highlights?

The play was fantastic.  I do not know how it happened.  I do not how why it happened.  It just got extremely strong.   We all pulled our weight and instead of disappointing, which I had initially though would happen, we impressed.  Every show was different, which in theory is a bad thing, but it kept it fresh.  We discovered new things each time we performed and we changed the way we said things, the way we acted with each ball caught.   I've never laughed on stage in front of people before.. It was an oddly warm feeling I will miss. 

So congratulations cast and crew of Denis Morris' production of 'Play On!' 

And in lieu of celebrating my own successes, I went out.   Nothing connected to the show separate to the fact of going with two cast members and other friends..

Again, subjecting myself to illegal subsatnces probably was not the best decision.. but it happened, and thus, I shall blog about it because it really does not bother me that people know this much about me. 

The things I remember..:
SHREK!!!!! deer in the road... hit, crash, blood on the windshield.. I hope that didn't actually happen..
Amberlee and her boobs.. Calla and her mean face.. Taylor and her disney character..
hash not weed. weed not hash.  I made my decisions.
ponytails.   I am oh so exciting.. :|   sarcasm please.
edward cullen.. no i am not a vampire.. jacob black.. he legit looked like him though.
white eyebrows, white hair
the bird.. oh the bird..    the bird bites.   no, not me.  ponytail.   it was hilarious.
callas mean face is what i want to write about.   I have never, ever laughed so hard in my life. Ever. 
The mean faced sucked.  It looked like a sea monster that was trying not to laugh.  and kendra did not understand
oh, your earrings look good.   she didnt get it.
calla dont leave me!   she didnt.
there were pet geese too.. it was odd.
I vaguely remember a VIP room that I entered with a black light.. strange.
The crackers were awesome.  I ate mine in little pieces.. calla did not. 
And the cake was even better.  
drive home. i couldnt find my blackberry and i climbed out the back i believe..
cookie dough, chips and salsa, gross popcorn covered in chocolate, orange pop.. and life with derek of course.
bed time.    strange dreams..  grace got thick glasses and thats all I remember.

All in all.   a great night :)

numerical woes

currently 9:18 AM as i write this sentence.  3:17 PM as i type it.
Today, I decided I will delete a picture. I don't delete pictures.  I don't know what came over me.  I guess i've decided to become nice or something
Math class is overrated. Overrated because I hate it.  With a deep, developed passion. Hatred. And it doesn't help that I'm rarely in class - mind you valid reasons i.e. a 'me' day.  Thus, I have put myself into a pit of mathematical confusion.
I would much rather sit in the back of the room, make silly comments to whom sits beside me about the man teaching the class and the lessons being taught, and write random bullshit into my notebook.. oh wait.  I already do that.

Did I mention me and math have a mutual hate..?

So, I thought it would be kind of cool to explain math class via poem.. a very amateur crappy poem.. but nonetheless..

Madglibbing
man hanging
card playing

Math

Seriously?
Come on now
lets get real here

Math

blogs get written
chem is finished
french is practised

Math

Conversations
adorations
awkward lessons

Math

Math

baking soda. explodations. Leaking and running.
humpy camels. chosen words. english ess-ay.
right side. back side. Dennis, religion...
Homework habits.  Satisfactory? First. Life. Fail.
colour pens. green's mah fave. coffee, coffee, coffee.
sometimes tea. haus. carbs. bread? GaGa of course.
get it poppin. distaste, displaced.  no uniform
Jesus imaculation.  reflect on GPS. Reflect on chocolate.
reflect on nonsense

tests. exams. no difference, apparantly. lunch time-gone.
still adding, subtracting, expanding, graphing.
Chinese eyes. large eyes. pretzals. crabby crab crab.
Phil is asian.  Sam Sam Eric.  Sam squared wes.  Me.
Its Britney bitch. dada da na na.  Baby.

Math.

broken femur, shattered shin.

currently 10:11 as i write this sentence.. it would have been way cooler if it was 11:11.. but whatever.

After weeks of shtty rehearsals and fumbled lines, my cast and I somehow managed to put on a show. And one of the greatest performances I've done yet..
Strange because just this morning.. I was fretting about knowing my lines and just two days ago, we couldn't even get through the entire show during rehearsal time..
So how did we do it? Well.. I have no fucking clue, thats why.  I guess, in the moment, it kind of just came to us.. we knew the majority of our lines, and even when we didn't, we improvised flawlessly.  We somehow became our characters tonight and added in spur of the moment interjections, actions and last minute 'nuances'.
I'm still in absolute shock in the tremendous success we had tonight.   It was all a blur, but a wonderful blur I'll never forget.

We didnt just break a leg.. we destroyed it.

break a leg. break a spirit.

currently 3:55 pm as i write this sentence.  I'm sitting in the backroom of my highschool's theatre because the school play opens tonight.  I will be performing as Henry Benish in "Play On!".  I am listening to the Glee soundtrack surrounded by my fellow cast.   Minus a few. 
Everyone is freaking out.  FREAKING OUT.   well.. some.  I'm not, because I have come to the conclusion that things happen for a reason, so I trust things will work out.. whether that be something now, or something in the future.
Anyways,  one member of the cast is conspicuously absent.  Mostly because she is not being allowed to perform onstage. Why?  Well she got a facial piercing, a noticable one.  A monroe.  Personally I think it looks pretty good.  The problem?  She's playing an old senile woman.. and I have yet to meet an old senile woman with a monroe piercing.
So, she has been given an ultimatum.  Take it out and perform.  Or leave it in and don't perform.  She got it pierced two days ago, it has yet to heal, she refuses to take it out.  Now, I understand her need to express personal expression and what not, but I cannot condone the going out and getting a blatant face piercing two days before our opening night.  Like really.
But I don't thing the administration is treating the situation right either.  Okay, so she made a mistake.  Lets Forgive.  We ARE at a catholic school.  Let her go out and get a clear filler for the performances.  Really not a big deal.  Lets move on and get over ourselves.

Anyways, we are going to go do some italian runthroughs at the moment, because, in reality, we don't know our lines.. I know, unproffessional, but it IS an amateur theatre performance.

Break a leg.

the exchange student & december thoughts.

currently 10:45 as i write this sentence. Well everyone.. or more specifically the 1 or 2 people that might actually read this.., it is December. And you know what that means. Snow. And you know what that means. Me crying..


I don't understand my dislike for the snow.. oh yah. Its cold. And wet. But more importantly. Its cold. Did I mention I hate to be cold?


But thats not what I wanted to blog about, but rather something that came to my mind randomly..


So back to topic of my personal discussion.. This one time I had an exchange student living in my house.
He took over my room, my bed, my food, my home.. and the whole time I just wanted him gone. I can't even count the amount of time I told him he doesn't belong in Canada nor should he have ever done an exchange.. but let me explain.
He arrived in Canada. Okie Dokie. We go to Darian Lake. Not Okie Dokie.. Who knew he would turn out to be the creepy stalker type that gave me a constant fear for my life.. legit though, I locked my bedroom door eveery night.
He somehow managed to tell 2 people that he loves them and that he wants to be their boyfriend after knowing them a total of.. oh i don't know.. a day. Love at first sight? More like desperate at first sight. At this point he had been in Canada for 3 days.. Oh, and news flash.. apparantly they wear speedos in France... but that was a whole 'nother issue alltogether.
So i told myself it would get better. Over and over again, I repeated, "Pat, its going to get better. It has to get better." It got worse. It kept getting worse.

I decided for some odd reason, that I would take him to Toronto for the day to visit a friend. She speaks French. She knows Toronto very well. Good idea? Not so much. By the end of the day, he had written her a love note confessing his love for her and undying need to be with her even though he lives in France.. My deepest apologies.
Other odd quirks include a love for Pokemon.. I know this because the majority of his measly spending money went towards Pokemon DVDs.. even though I tried to explain to him those are for children, he told me they are very popular with everyone in France. That was a blatant lie because 1. I'm not stupid 2. I asked my friend's exchange student if that was true and it wasn't.. but that was obvious.
Anyways, by now you probably have a mental image of him, right? Well, what you are thinking is probably right, because his 'look' epitomizes creeper. He was tall. Like 6ft tall. And he was anorexic. Not really though because one time at dinner he ate 13 whole potatoes.. and that isn't a hyperbole either. I counted. Anyways, he is grossly thin. Picture manorexic. Okay he had a brown comeover that sometimes was mesy, and sometimes, when he decided to take a shower, wasn't. He had a rather large nose, but in terms of wideness, not protrusion. His ears stuck out and he wore glasses. Common fashion? High waisted jeans and a button down black dress shirt.. unbottoned.. same high waisted jeans and a bowling shirt. And sometimes when he was feeling adventurous, a sweater with sleeves that could zip off in case he got too warm and 3 quarter length nylon pants.. so floods. Its safe to say he could have easily walked Paris fashion week, am I right?


To make a very, very long emotional story short, I have never hated anyone more in my life. Seriously. My days consisted of large arguments with me telling him to go back to France, me telling him that he is a creep, me telling him that no, he cannot download anymore video games onto the computer, and me telling him he is a child. Notice the me telling? Thats because if this was going on in English, he wasn't comprehending anything because he learned absolutely zero English, no word of a lie. And if this was happening in French, which 9 times out of 10 it did, he would just laugh, shake his head, make noises, talk to himself, or just sit and stare. This one time I stood in his doorway for half an hour staring at him and him staring at me because he refused to tell me why he wanted to run home one day after school.. legit run, because he ran home that day. People saw him and texted me. And it was raining. I still to this day, do not know the sudden urge for this. Nonetheless, if you ever want to learn French, get really angry at a person who only speaks French and it just comes.


He is now back in France, thank God, doing whatever and I am thankful. Thankful because his inability to learn and speak English caused my French to develop. Thankful because it taught me that sometimes, I cannot control things. Thankful, because it taught me the importance of compassion, sympathy and empathy, and that I, much to my dismay, lack in those areas. Thankful because it showed me that I am capable of burts of anger, and thus teaching me how to control these spurts if need be. Thankful because it showed me, that although my family is disfunctional, it is no where near as bad the kid who's parents live provinces apart and plopped him into a foreign country despite his medically diagnosed depression and my assumpton of a nervous disorder.


In a couple weeks i will be recieving my new match for my stay in France and I am thoroughly excited, because I know that things cannot get worse. The only way my experience could be dampered would be if the family kept me in a closet and didnt feed me. Which is illegal and I would get re-re-placed yet again asap. So yah. Despite my horrendous hosting experience, I believe and I hope that my European travels prove to be worth it.


Currently 11:20 as I write this sentence. And ironically I have 6 paragraphs of French due tomorrow morning that I have yet to start..

cheers to highschool suckage.

currently 1:06 AM as i write this sentence. I am also currently inebriated.. oh the wonders of underage drinking. wait. did i just say wonders?

I have absolutely no idea as to why I subject myself to this kind of behaviour. I don't think I'm the rebellious type. nor do i like the feeling. It makes me drowsy and my brain stops working. Who the fuck wants their brain to stop working. legit though. i cannot control my actions, as hard as i try, or at least I think I'm trying hard, but I suppose I will never know because if Im under the infuence my judgement will be impaired and if Im sober I wont have a clear understanding because of the lack of state.

Did I mention that alcohol also tastes disgusting? Because it does. Everytime I take a shot, or have a sip or whatever, I cringe. I gag. But I get over it. I suck it up and I down the illegal substance while in my hands. Drunkeness is overated. I know that and i upset myself by always going back to it. but WHY.

Its that I can never figure out. Is it because everyone else is doing it? mmmm.. nope. I am not the conformist type. Is it because I want to fit in? mmmm.. nope. I know who my friends are.
then why.. i can never come up with an answer..

Anyways. back to the original reason for writing a post this late at night when i need my sleep so i can have a major chemistry study session. Highschool sucks. Well.. not really.. but the situatons we put ourselves into suck. Its poor judgement mixed with drugs mixed with our current wants..

Tonight I felt as if things changed. I dont know what changed or how it changed.. all I know is that things change..and they changed tonight. I have learned to trust my intuition and to follow it no matter what, and this is the feeling Im getting.

I know Monday will be awkward for whatever reason and I know that Ill be having some future long converstions with some friends with weak situation dealing skills.

I've learned that guys are jerks and girls are trusting.

I've learned that people do what they want.

I've learned that I care mostly for the way others are feeling.

God help me. God help us all.
Beuse we need it. I can admit that.

So heres to long, unremebered nights,
stupid boys,
stupid girls.
Here's to molding oursleves to the wants of others
blind love
blind heartbreak.

Here's to highschool.

Cheers. Ill see you in the morning.


And if this blog sounds totally incoherant..

And thats when my laptop died and I forgot about ever writing this post until i write this sentence.

photography over all. over sanity. over humanity.

Currently 9:02 PM as I write this sentence. I am sitting in my living room observing a documentary. This is an academy award nominee documentary in case you were wondering and it goes by the title "James Nachtwey: War Photographer" borrowed from the wonderful Mr. Murray, aka murr-dawg.

James Nachtwey is claimed to be the greatest war photographer of all time.. and with that I cannot disagree. His pictures are nothing less of stunning. But its hard to believe someone can distance themselves so much from horror that is happening 5 feet in front of them. I am the type of person who cannot bear to watch someone in pain. I have an undying need to help, to comfort. So watching the scene that just passed has made my heart shatter. The film kept rolling and the camera kept clicking as the female subject cried out. Her son was just murdered in a time of war. Her son was just murdered. Her son is dead. And she screams, and the tears fall. But the camera doesn't stop. ever.

Its hard for me to watch something like that, then for it to show him right after sitting in his quarters polishing his camera..

I quite obviously do not agree with this.. and as much as I try to not be biased.. i feel as if not helping has made him as much a monster as the ones that caused the destruction captured in his photographs. I do not respect this. I do not. I will not. And yet..

The photos..

But they are so much more than photos.. they are.. still theatre. Telling a story through a single image. Full of depth and full of emotion.. full of Nachtweys passion and of his soul. I've never seen such an image to make me break into tears that still stain my face because they are just that powerful. And although I cannot repect and agree with him.. I cannot help but respect and agree with his ART. Such an oxymoron, I am aware.. but the only thing I can say is to watch the documentary for yourselves.

I can only hope to achieve the level of artistics Nachtwey has attained.. and thats just it. I can only hope. I know now after watching that i could never ever do his line of work. I cannot sit around and record images while people are crying for my help.. screaming.. litterally begging to be held.. And so I commend Nachtwey for having that courage and discipline.

By now you probably have assumed I dislike the photographer known as James Nachtwey.. but you could not be more wrong. He is one of my photography icons.. heros per se. I view his outlook as something to learn from, not something to live by and I will always continue to admire the masterpieces he has created. He managed to turn something so gut wrenching and horrifying into artistic history. His photos inspire and cause room for thought.

. lets just hope you are never the one on the other side of his camera.

estranged

i love the world.
i truly do.

but i can never help but feel detatched at all times from it.
ive never felt in synch with my surroundings.. the lines never fit.

hmm. what a great thing to start my blog off with.. my philosophical woes. call me the anti existentialist for i place far too much hope into my destiny and the wonders of the universe.
but thats me. the boy who dreamt. who dreams. who will continue to dream. mostly because, without dreaming, why live. seriously though. someone without hope will not have a future, or at least not a very good one. so dream for the best, and you'll end up with some form of it.

currently. 1:30 in the a.m. as i write this sentence. on a school night. i suppose this has become my life. planning to study.. in this case french, and ending up on facebook. for hours. so ive traded that vice for this contraption of writing my thoughts into a public space.. which in retrospect will most likely end up being a not so great idea. i can already feelt he addicition starting.

so good night for the night. dream well. dream often.