a little deprivation to raise consciousness.

I'm in week 4 of the Artist's Way. It's a 12 week "rehab" program for artists who want to resolve their creative blocks. I haven't told everybody that I'm on it, except for a choice few.

I'm starting a week long deprivation exercise to purge my brain of all the media I've loaded it with. That's right... no reading, music, surfing the net, YM-ing, watching movies or anything of that sort. At the rate it's going, I might as well abstain from the cigarettes too.

Sometimes one needs to simply tune out from the world to better hear the little voice from within. Perhaps I need to do just that. I'm praying I don't go clinically INSANE this week.

So, without further ado... Ciao cyberspace!

I'm headed off to face 7 days of fuzz free silence.

Two-timer.

I am... career-wise, anyway.

I realized this after having a "moment" while at work today. Amidst the pots and pans sizzling and with my mise en place being put in their rightful place for this evening's service, in the back of my mind I was thinking about music (the other pursuit). I found myself GUILTY of cheating on the work that stood before me - the glorious, picture perfect food that had to be impeccably delivered to our guests tonight. Instead, I was daydreaming about giving birth to a three chord song that had snippets of words as lyrics and without a hint of a title just as of yet.

While I had one thing I thoroughly loved and enjoyed, I am thinking of the other. All would be well, if I had loved one craft a little less than the other. But the dilemma is this: I am in love with them both, quite tenderly and wholeheartedly. If these two lines of work were women, I would be deserving of a good slapping from both parties.

Why, mother... can't I have my cake and eat it too?

~to be continued~

Fighting With My Dinner

When seafood is concerned, there is only one acceptable way to cook it... COOK IT LIVE. No if's and but's. L-I-V-E is the word to remember.

And boy, my Monday dinner plans got a bit more L-I-V-E-L-Y than expected when this guy jumped out of the bag.

I had to fight off this villain to have a scrumptious dinner. Look at those claws.

"Come any closer and you can kiss your iPhone away, Toots!".

It's generally a bad idea to leave any electronic devices near the stove or on a busy kitchen counter, as this photo demonstrates.

Anyway, I got him and his other buddies in a steamer pot with a bit of lemons and salt. Alas for the furious five!

And in 15 minutes... Voila!

I guess the fight's over. So much for being on top of the food chain. Hehehehe!

blog, blog, blog...

...o neglected blog! *singing Pavarotti style*

I had the most hectic week imaginable. Hectic, yes, but very well worth all the energy I spent. I kicked last weekend off with a trip to SLC Utah to watch one of my childhood heroes (yet again) ~ NO DOUBT. The concert was AMAZING. Two younger bands opened up for Gwen and the peeps, and they were The Sounds and Paramore. Both were fronted by the most kick-ass, awesome, rocking frontwomen I've ever witnessed onstage. That evening was a triple dose of power-chick action. Because of that, I revel in my new found love for Caucasian chicks who can rock the mic with all their might.

Gwen Stefani is definitely a pop icon, PERIOD.

I went with my beloved white boy and forever concert buddy, Alex Hagstrom, who was leaving for Cape Cod later that week in pursuit of other blessed career opportunities. It seemed to me that I was losing all my close friends to the East Coast (as Kelly was also leaving for NYC that same week). This migration trend is baffling me. What is it about the East Coast that is luring all my wonderful friends? I'm afraid that I already know the answer, and it will only be a matter of time 'til I realize the fact that I gotta do what I gotta do. But until then, allow me to sit with my state of denial a bit longer (and I assure you, it will not be that long).

When I got back from SLC, I had to do a hurried shoot of my P7D post for the PRECIPICE cycle. By hurried, I mean hurried with a truncated time schedule. I came back on a Tuesday and this thing would have had to be done by Thursday evening at the latest. As usual, I had to do with what I had, so I am quite frustrated with not having coherent content. But before I bitch on, let me just say that the whole experience pointed out two significant things: 1) I was amazed at how quickly my editing skills are coming to a sheen despite the fact that I have a generic program. and 2) It seems to me that the editing process bypasses my ADD. I realized that I like editing movies and would also like to get into the business. So there, I vocalized it. Done and done.

Now, on with the bitching. The next time I am due to post on P7D, I want to work with a damn storyboard. Jeezus! I want my work to have a spine for once and not be under pressure (but then again, it's also the time constraint that gets all artists' creative juices flowing). The bottomline is: I would like my work to have conscious focus. That is my next goal.

Another strange thing happened to me this week. I started hearing phantom tunes in my head, which means it's finally time to pick up that digital recorder and write songs. These tunes are fleeting. If I don't get them down, they'll forever be lost. I've lost many a riff and a line by saying that, "Yeah... I'll remember that progression or I'll remember that line because I came up with it.". Oh my, how the creative mind is tricky... when it's on, it's ON. The muse is like another person who just prods you to hum, write or do whatever it is that needs to get done. More often than not, you - the artist, will not be able to keep up with the surge of ideas and remember all the nice details. The lesson here is: Don't be caught without a pen when your ideas strike. Save your time and effort. Get it down. Get it down. Get it down.

I'll close this entry by sharing this belief of mine. I believe that the most interesting conversations lie between the drunk and the sleepy. Just don't question it. Sometimes, drunken and fatigued talks are more sincere than everyday small talk. This week, I was blessed with an opportunity to answer a striking question which shed some light on a little truth about myself. Take note, I answered this without flinching. And it goes a little something like...

"When was your first failure?"

"It was at hopscotch. I was 5 years old. I badly wanted to play with the kids on the street but I didn't know how, so I never exerted the effort to learn it and I walked away.".

"But that isn't a failure.".

"It is. I carried that habit with me to adulthood. I tend to walk away from things that I don't understand off the bat, even if I wanted them badly.".


And now I know how my ego was born.