MYST Movie?!?!

So I have to take a moment out of my day to share this news. Apparently there might be work on a movie based off of the Myst Book, "The Book of Ti'Anna." I have always been a HUGE fan of Myst and the books were awesome. I couldn't be more excited!!

Check it out!

Since we're on the topic of movies I feel like I should also mention my excitement for the movie "The Road," that is based off of and awesome book by Cormac McCarthy. The Trailer looks epic... and it has Aragorn

Shoes

Lately I've been thinking about shoes... this is likely due to my recent escapade to try to find myself a pair. Once I found a store and started looking... there were many shoes that I considered to be cool but weren't what I'd call "Wesley." That got me thinking... what sort of shoe does say "Wesley?" In fact do we pick shoes which reflect who we are or how we think, or are we this way due to the shoes we buy. As I searched I inevitably did find a pair that seemed Wesley enough, and I purchased them. Since then I've begun looking more closely at what people wear for shoes, something that I had never really had much interest in. I've decided you can tell a lot about a person from their shoes, a seemingly innocent piece of clothing. Of course I could be inferring a lot when I start making snap judgments about people based on their choice of footwear... but it's still interesting to see who is wearing what nonetheless.

I see alot of different styles and fashions as I peruse this city, if you haven't guessed by now I enjoy people watching. It's interesting to take in not only what people wear, but also how they act. Not being fluent in French, I don't typically know what they might be saying but according to their tone you usually can pick up alot . There are moments where I can't help but chuckle a little when I see someone, these people are typically those who may be wearing their just off to the side enough to be cool, wife beater, and a little too much bling . We can get so caught up in consumerism sometimes... If only I had a coach bag, matching shoes, and of course Oakley glasses. The more money we wear the cooler we might be... now I might be a hypocrite for saying these things, sure there are times where I really like an expensive jacket or article of clothing. Yet I don't think I get as caught up into all of it, in many cases I'm pretty stingy. I saw a teenager the other day, amongst some of his friends, visibly self conscious about not only his looks but how he stood, laughed, and where he looked. I think I used to be him, and sometimes still am that way. Worrying about what I look like, nervous about not saying the wrong thing or just looking stupid. Maybe this is just breeding out of old high school popularity-aphobia. Now I'm just ranting and rambling... but your still reading so maybe I'll continue.

In life we can always encounter certain types or groups of people we can stereotype into smaller categories, so it's easier for us to assume who they are. It starts in high school and continues on from there; Jocks, Geeks, Preps, Emo, Goth, Punk, I dunno I'm sure there are a billion other. What strikes me is how easily they are able to spot at times, based on their appearance... sure I'm sure it's their own preferences for clothing, which somewhere along the line starts to define the entire group. Almost like me wearing a big sign on my back that says "Geek/Farmer/ugh no wait Kayaker" on my back. Since high school I don't think I've ever really fully fit into a category, and I pride myself for it. Yet when I think about the clothes I wear, I guess I sort of wear skater clothes... but don't really skate board... Guess that makes me a "Poser."

There really isn't much of a point of this blog post, other than just sort of a brain dump of thoughts I've been thinking about lately. Perhaps I am saying something though about commercialism and stereotypes... ugh... ignore both! Good lesson for today!

Fireworks

I looked up in wonder and awe… and yet I wondered how many times had I actually witnessed fireworks? I had seen fireworks since I was very young, hell it’s an American past time! I remember seeing them as a child in Sandwich, again actually with music at Universal Studios as with my parents, I remember watching them out over the water at Disney last year with Ann, Sarah, and Lauren (On Lauren’s Birthday), and now here in Montreal I stood in awe of the big bright lights and explosions. I couldn’t help but consider how really all that fireworks were, were highly complicated particle emiters, and even had a moment of contemplation about how I might be able to recreate fireworks pretty easy maybe… then Benoit got mad at me about thinking about work… So I focused again on the present. I felt like a kid again, and could feel goosebumps ripple my skin. Then my eyes wandered to a young boy looking up in awe just as I was, he couldn’t control his little feet and hands from shaking in joy… and I could relate… Although I had 22 years to find ways of controlling such outward emotional marks haha but I felt as he did… in wonder of the world. As I sat back and admired another artists work, I began to think about my own. I think I’ve started to become too comfortable, going to work, coming home, going to work… Watching the fireworks made me remember why I wanted to become an artist in the first place. I want to cause the same sort of excitement, the same sort of emotion that this little boy was feeling at that very moment. But what am I to do? Will I start an animation that I’ve been thinking about? A new character perhaps? But resounding from deep within myself, an answer came easily… I need to start writing again. I need to finish what I started five years ago… I need to tell my story. A story that when I think about, I get goosebumps… every time. A story that I have so carefully crafted in my head, and have enjoyed so many times in the quiet corners of my mind. I need to share it…

Afterwards I had an interesting conversation with a friend. She argued that the reason that so many people were so unsuccessful, was due to a deeper subconscious doubt that everyone held inside themselves. Sure we all want to do well and be successful, but when we might not even know it, there is a bit of us inside that thinks that it isn’t possible. Little did she know, and I wasn’t about to share it because I couldn’t get two words into the conversation haha, she was talking again about a self fullfilling prophecy. Thinking about this, I know exactly what she means, but the results for me has been somewhat different. There have been many moments in my life that for whatever reason, I felt a cold hard resolve that knew… positively, that whatever goal I had just set for my self… I would complete it. It was always a strange feeling really, to know absolutely that yes! I will accomplish this. Conversely I have had moments where I wanted something to happen, but deep down inside part of me knew it wouldn’t… and guess what? It didn’t…

I’m remembering this feeling again… and for whatever reason I can’t help but feel like this story could be something special. Maybe that just means for me, maybe it means the same for others? Who knows? This is something that won’t be completed swiftly. No, this is something that needs to be nurtured and grown properly. The seed has been planted for a long time though, and leaves have begun to sprout… It’s time for it to bear fruit.

Routine

There's not a whole lot to write about right now... I seem to be living life, living up to a new found "routine." The funny thing is, that is one thing that has been lacking for quite some time now, some sense of normality and routine. I think in a funny little way I'm happy to have found it once again... I get up, go to work, do my thing, have lunch, finish up the day, go home, go to the gym maybe, and then chill with the roommates. I've been feeling a bit more relaxed I think, becoming more comfortable talking to my foreign companions on a daily basis. I also think my French is improving which helps.

While there are times where I wonder if I'm doing well at work, I have no real reason to think that I'm not doing well right now. I've discovered what's really missing from my working life is a real artist critique like I had been used to having at Champlain. Where we would pick ever little detail apart and decide what are good aspects and what are not. I haven't really got that here, I'm just typically told when they like something and when to change a part of it. It's a bit different but I also think it's because English isn't their first language, and with a limited vocabulary it can be hard sometimes. So I can't help but think that if I wasn't doing well I would have been told by now I think...

It's been sort of fun having a little extra time now and then, I was actually able to complete a book the other day and start on a new one. If you know me at all you know my mind never really stops going so I've also been thinking a lot about a story I've been meaning to write. While I haven't had a lot of time to commit to it, I had worked on the beginning a little while back. I think I'm going to end this post with the first paragraph (because I really like it hehe), let me know what you think and if you want to know more you know how to reach me =)

Peace!

(and let it be known that if this is owned and created by Wesley Knee and don't try to steal it... I'll find you...)

_________________________

They say that the first lines of any story, gives the reader an insight into the rest of the book. "It was the best of times, it was the worst of times," "It is truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of a good fortune, must be in want of a wife," "Call me Ismael..."I wouldn't want anyone to get the wrong impression of my story. This is no epic, no guaranteed happy endings, the boy won't find the girl, and this is certainly no bedtime story. I can only promise you my story, told through my eyes, and therefor equally jaded... be sure to take that under consideration if you chose to read on. I've been called a great many things in my short life; brother, student, friend, thief, beggar, coward, orphan... although many titles have been passed my way there is one thing I can say for certain... I am a lost boy.

Guilt

I just had an interesting conversation with a friend of mine, which made me really think a lot about… Well the degree program I attended the students in my degree. I can’t help but really want to write this right now, and while I’m positive there are those who won’t agree with me, this isn’t about changing opinions. Perhaps these are just some of the notes of my experiences and thoughts on students, what we give, and even sacrifice for.

It’s so hard not to be a little bit competitive, but that’s healthy right? Of course it is, it makes us all better… We look to our classmates, see what they are doing, and we want to improve. No we must improve if we want to have any chance at a future. That’s what it’s all about right? We can speak about how much we might want to change things, or what we might want to “do.” The end game is always the same… getting that job. If we aren’t the best, or close to it… what chance do we have in the world today? So it eats at you, gnaws at a fresh wound from your last critique. You put in more hours, you take on more projects, because it all looks good on the resume. You sleep less, study more, and sure things certainly do improve. It’s all about the resume, and in the end your senior portfolio… the very thing that you can show to the world and proclaim “I am open for business!”

We do these things but at what cost? We might not even realize it but at times we start to lose a little bit of ourselves. We become paranoid with guilt, and diluted in thoughts of grandeur. It’s the guilt that gets to us… It’s almost like some sort of strange addiction to our work. If we’re away from it, we feel guilty; almost as if we will slip behind and get lost in mediocrity. We can’t take nights off, mornings, it’s even a joke to think you might actually take a day! To take a day off is almost like a distend dream, but something you have no real desire to grasp at that moment because you know… You know what you’ll find waiting for you at the beginning of that day… guilt. Then that day will be like every other.

What will it have been for in the end? Four years lost in a blur of study and late nights as you try to focus on your monitor? Perhaps… I felt myself getting lost once. In fact I was lost, and perhaps in some demented way still am. Work and school was my life, and there could be no other mistress other than Maya… What was I to expect though? I was “Wesley Knee” and I had to keep up appearances. Take this as you will but it’d be silly of me not to recognize that I was a role model for some, and while this filled me with pride. It also helped feed the guilt. It certainly came to a point where I wasn’t sure who I’d be without my reputation, maybe ironic that even in College peer pressure seems to seep into our lives.

I consider myself lucky, I had a friend… a really good friend who made me feel equally as guilty if I didn’t see her either. She helped me some of the way out of the hole that I was in, and helped me stay sane. While I never truly left the hole, which was in some ways was it’s own form of depression, she continued to teach me how to have fun… even take time for myself a little. It helped force me to become really good at managing my time, while I was still a workaholic, I had to schedule in time for her too. Now when I look back at College, I am sure to think fondly of all of my hard work, but even more so of the fun times I had with her. If I were to give any advice to those still in that degree program, I might say that while you need to work hard, you need to schedule time for her too… no matter who or what she is.

I get concerned sometimes, because I can see the same sort of depression in others… the guilt… the “Dark Passenger” whose always there telling you that you are not good enough, you must work harder, and is always there to remind you when you are away from your work. We get stuck in this sort of “mode” and we just become animated machines, we give our souls to our school work and equally as much to the EMC. This is all supposed to be fun right? Hell we’re working on video games! There is a point though were it stops being fun and becomes a lot more about the work it’s self. I consider myself lucky to have my friend who helped me through this, I hope that others won’t give up too much of themselves. I was like you too, still am in many ways, but hope you can find your peace in some way. While our minds go a mile a minute, sometimes we just need time to sort it all out… even if we are feeling the weight of the world… or perhaps just the UN.

If your wondering, then yes… perhaps I am still a bit bitter about somethings. Although I won’t dwell in the past, because right now the present is much more interesting.

~I hope anyone who reads this doesn’t take this post too negatively… this was just something I had to get off my chest~

On the inside looking out...

I find it ironic really... small town kid. Born from farmers and taught to enjoy rural America... Grows to find himself in very unlikely situations. At what point did Wesley, farmer kayaker boy, become Wesley, international 3D Artist. Perhaps I wonder more when this whole "international" bit started playing into my life. Perhaps it started my Senior year of high school, with a German friend who I affectionately refer to as Hanz. I thought it was crazy when I actually went to Germany to visit him in 2005... sort of funny now considering I've now traveled as far as South Africa. I find it ironic (I find irony and many things lately apparently) that in my Senior "Government and Economics" class (in high school), we had this project that we had to find a possible job that we might hold in the future. We then had to calculate how much we might earn and spend, on everything from rent to food. At the time I thought I'd go above and beyond and find myself a job in Montreal... It's funny thinking that five years later and I'm there. Almost a sort of a self prescribed destiny...


I find myself working in a studio with mostly french speaking people (Persian or Quebequa), living in a foreign country, and living with two guys from France. There are times I have to wonder how the hell do I get myself into this... situations. I'm not really complaining mind you, apparently I'm all for new cultural experiences. Yet this is all very exhausting at times. Communication seems to be my hardest point lately, and while I'm finding ways of discussing with my roommates... sometimes it feels strained.


I spent my first weekend with my two new roomies, who I do refer to as my "Frenchies" behind their back. They are definitely very nice, and it was interesting meeting some of their friends that they have in Montreal. It's an odd feeling being the "American"... An odder feeling not being bi-lingual like everyone else. I try my best to stay engaged, and even harder to listen to french constantly. Yet there are certainly times where I feel as though I'm on the outside looking in. Perhaps that's not quite right though... in all reality I'm on the inside looking out. Inside my head, the last corner of comfort at times, peering out into a world that can be very foreign to me. I continue to try to understand, both the culture and the language. If you know me at all, you'll know that I'll survive just fine. Sometimes being inside your head is the best place to be.