Time for a rebrand.
Or reboot, if you prefer!
Hence the title change for these “segments” – speaking of which, I suppose context is key, isn’t it?
Clint and I used to host a YouTube show aptly titled Coffee & Cannabis, which we started during the end of his undergrad and partway through my Master’s degree.
Earlier in the year, we’d recorded a podcast segment as a creative project for one of our courses together and instantly realized we had chemistry. Not only that but, speaking for myself at least, it seemed strange to me that Clint and I had never put our minds together before that fateful recording day.
Whereas that initial podcast was focussed on one topic, in our show we would discuss writing in a multitude of forms, our favourite authors, what movies we were watching, and writing tips based on our respective university experiences.
Eventually, the movie part took on a life of it’s own and spun-off into our podcast, High on Hollywood.
The whole marijuana / cannabis-themed angle sprang from the fact that Clint and I were huge Kevin Smith fans – and, as aspiring filmmakers and fellow partakers in the jazziest cabbage, we took Stephen King’s advice in On Writing (about emulating your fave writers until your own voice emerges as this weird pseudo-baby mixture of influences) quite seriously. That and, being amateurs, we identified with pre-Clerks Kevin Smith.
History was made and neither Clint nor I could look back.
Sure, we had our hits and our misses.
But we knew we had something special.
The show and podcast ran concurrently for at least one summer and throughout the year while we experimented with other mediums and show ideas (e.g. a Twitch stream called What Horror! where we would play horror video games and people could watch us live-and-in-action).
For awhile (see: five times), I wrote blog posts to kind of sum up what we were talking about on Coffee & Cannabis.
My last was in January 2021.
All of that brings us here.
Y’know, there was a period of time after we stopped doing C&C and High on Hollywood where I fell into a bit of a creative depression.
I didn’t know what to do with myself and my writing reflected this listlessness.
Of course, there were other things happening in my life at the time. Changes, realizations, mistakes, Covid… the stuff that makes living a life such a multi-faceted experience.
I didn’t know – but I hoped – we’d find our way back to this.
I didn’t know whether we’d get the chance.
When Siobhan received her offer letter from Lakehead last summer, it was a great reminder that the universe moves in ways both mysterious and fortuitous.
In other words, we are making a comeback folks.
Starting this September, you can expect to (at the very least) hear us in new episodes of High on Hollywood – but the fun doesn’t stop there… I’ll be rolling out another post soon with more ‘deets’ about all of that but just know the future is looking very bright.
On a semi-related note, my coworker, Sam, recently said something to me that has stuck with me.
We were talking about life goals and I mentioned there’s this tension in me between the desire to own a house and the desire to travel extensively within my lifetime.
Sam said some people work all of their lives to finally own a house (mortgage paid-off and all), say, by the time they’re 50, 60, or even older. In order to pay for their house, it’s likely they worked a full-time job every week for 40 years give or take – going to work, going home, spending a couple of days off – maybe a week, rinse wash repeat.
This, Sam said, is not the meaning of life.
It might be what some consider a “normal” life but Sam doesn’t think it is and I tend to agree.
We work all of our lives to own property and say, “I did it! I made it!” only to promptly begin preparing ourselves for the last stage of our lives.
What we really should be doing, as Sam pointed out, is following our dreams.
Of course, there’s nothing wrong with dreaming about home ownership or having your own space. In fact, that’s part of the point – there is no magical box that we all fit in.
It’s about freedom – a word that, I know, has plenty of (understandably) negative connotations these days.
But I’m not talking about freedom co-opted as a genocidal propaganda tool within a colonial framework of displacement and oppression to justify acts of violence – and neither is Sam.
We’re talking about the freedom to act.
We’re talking about how the universe moves through us, speaks to us, and fills us with a sense of purpose.
It’s confusing, of course, because the universe ranges from subtle to not-so-subtle in terms of the signs it gives us.
And, typically, the signs aren’t literal (as in the example above) but they do come. The truth comes down to whether or not we are ready and willing to listen.
Another thing to consider is that the journey is incremental (usually).
NOTE: I continue to use the words “typically” and “usually” here because there’s no one-size-fits-all approach to how we live our lives, like I mentioned, nor to the experiences we each have as individual human beings.
One good visual Sam planted in my brain is driving along a road at night.
Imagine you’re driving with your low beams on. You can only see about 100 feet ahead of you but you can see, and by the time you reach the spot just beyond what’s visible in that 100 feet you’ve illuminated another 100 feet.
It’s like eliminating the fog of war by exploring the map in old RTS games like Age of Empires or Empire Earth: the more you discover, the better you can approach things – the better your understanding of the world around you and your place in it.
Or, to better suit this analogy, the more progress you make towards your goal, your vision, and what fulfills you – what satisfies that sense of purpose and, hopefully, in the process either brightens or changes your life, others, or the world for the better.
After all, we were put here to love first and foremost (in my opinion).
At the very least, as I’ve written about before, love and fear are two of the greatest forces driving humankind’s will to act.
Ebb and Flow.
Ying and Yang.
Life and Death.
We think of these as dualities without considering the secret third option: the in-between.
It’s all spectrums. Everything is fluid – yes, everything.
If you feel a sense of rigidity or recoil at such a statement I beg you to ask yourself, “why?”
How does that threaten you (if it makes you feel threatened)? How does it move you?
If, like me, you find yourself identifying with the very idea of this universal fluidity more and more with each passing day then it’s high time to accept you’re getting in-touch with the universe itself, my friend.
Not that I’m some sort of expert. I’m really not.
I’ve just learned there’s wisdom in trusting your gut, there is truth in how we act, and there is no way to achieve [insert big dream or even miniscule goal here] without taking that first step.
There is no motion without movement.
No ability to see the road ahead without your car turned on and headed down the pike.
Maybe Dory was onto something in Finding Nemo, huh?
Anyway, if you’re not moving, hopefully you’re at least breathing – and if you’re not doing that last thing then a) my condolences and b) please go back to sleep, this was not written for zombies… on the other hand, you go, Zombie Coco!
Continuing the road metaphor, you might hit a pothole here or there.
You will find there are days when every light is blinking at you from your car’s dashboard.
It could be a single day – it could be a month, week, or year of what feels like Hell.
Sometimes, it’s good to just pull over and rest at the first sign of an opportunity.
On top of that, however, it’s extremely important to pay attention to those dashboard lights and see a professional to diagnose the problem – whether the problem is as simple as needing some air in your tires or larger issues like rusted brakepads, a loooooong overdue oil change, and a weird smell coming from under the hood.
Interpret and apply that all as you will.
Heck, your car frame might even be bottoming out… but still, there is a way forward.
Looking at my own life, there are plenty of times where maintenance was needed to get myself back on the road so to speak.
All of that is especially true when I look at my journey as a writer.
There is an undeniable ebb and flow to the life and work of any creative, I think, but it only becomes apparent with time (obvious as that sounds).
The bumps or potholes, in any given moment along our roadly-travels, tend to feel like chasms in the moment.
We might spend a significant time after hitting one of those obstacles wondering how it’s affected our car, truck, bicycle, or free-floating sphere of levitation – however you imagine your hypothetical vehicle.
Over time, however, those chasms and canyons return to a truthful shape in our minds eye, rightfully reverting to the much smaller deals that they are in the grander scheme of things.
Interestingly, the reverse can also happen where something we thought was small ends up having a massive impact on our trajectory.
It’s amazing how much control we have over our reality with perspective – and equally as impressive to understand how the mind adapts to survive by, say, repressing memories of trauma.
Ironically, it seems a combination of realizing we have all the power to make choices but none to control the world around us puts us all in a tense situation.
For example, I can sit comfortably in an office and write this post but there are displaced groups and people living in war-torn countries – places ruled by dictators; there are people without access to clean drinking water (not just abroad but even right here in Canada); there are people all around who don’t feel safe existing or who don’t have access to the tools to free themselves.
We live in a world where this disparity only seems to grow.
And yet, understanding my own privilege I still stop in those moments that seem so romantic, so hypnotizing about surrendering ourselves to the vastness of the universe.
Sitting on a big rock along the north shore of Lake Superior, for example, I feel a sense of awe mixed with oneness.
It makes me think of a couple pieces of media I recently engaged with.
Firstly, NK Jemisin’s slickly written duology-starter, The City We Became, entrusted to me on-loan from my friend, Leigh (who is determined – and, I must admit, has already succeeded – in making me the ultimate NK Jemisin stan).
The City We Became is so real, honest, and diverse with its characters. Jemisin crafts a story that feels like it could be happening as I type this blog post – it takes that concept of how we shape our own realities and applies it to a broader, interdimensional, almost Lovecraftian reimagining of everything we do and don’t see around us.
Taking cities and giving them character, making it believable, and making the reader care so deeply about a makeshift band of universe-defenders in a way that doesn’t feel commercial (*cough* Marvel, DC, Hollywood – also please don’t kill me, I love you all *cough*) is a spectacular feat. Jemisin’s concept for The City We Became is mind-bending and it just works. It’s intoxicating.
The “villain” – who, by all means, leans into the irony of seeming one-dimensional despite existing in multiple – is perfectly positioned within the story. She represents an era of outspoken, “fake news” hawking, fact-condemning complacency ushered in with some earnest effort from figures like Donald Trump.
Deeper still, the Woman in White is the embodiment of colonization, Manifest Destiny, the Crusades… “missions” carried out violently behind some falsity of reasoning that unavoidably boils down to misplaced fear and unwarranted hatred for entire groups of people, coupled with a desire to expand, to consume.
The only reality the Woman in White truly knows is one so horrifying the very sight of it nearly breaks the minds of several main characters in the novel (despite their abilities).
Ultimately, the main characters realize they must work together to stop the Woman in White… but it takes multiple signs from the universe, trusting some part of their individual instincts, and actively making a choice – to be connected, to fight, and to believe in themselves.
The point – tying this into the overall post – is that Jemisin’s work is a challenging and beautiful representation of the human spirit.
Do not resist the call of the Universe!
Which brings me to the next piece of media that’s been on my mind lately since I watched it: Bob Marley: One Love (2024).
I learned some interesting facts about Marley’s life watching the movie but it was his dedication to Rastafarianism and the idea of oneness that really caught my attention.
I won’t get into the nitty gritty of Rastafarianism – though that is something I am fascinated by on its own, especially considering my own Jamaican heritage – but what I will say is that it’s clear Bob used his image and his platform to promote the idea of a world where we all share the love.
Yes, it’s literally the title – I know.
But it’s his dedication to the idea that is so motivating. Even in the face of civil unrest in Jamaica, the death of close friends, and coming to terms with his own mistakes in life, Bob pledges onward with his quest for one, universal love.
He keeps driving down that road. Keeps swimming through the sea.
Even now, despite the chaos of worldly existence, Bob’s dream and his legacy live on.
When he dies, it is not as a martyr but as a person who lived his truth.
We see him wrestle with and eventually embrace all aspects of himself – past, present, and future.
All I can hope is that, when I die, people who knew me might say the same about me.
In the meantime, I’m focussing on staying on the road and keeping my eyes on what’s ahead – celebrating / embracing the beauty of love, the creative spirit, and everything that’s led me here: the good, the bad, the ugly – according to a sign in Sudbury, and everything in-between.
With all of that in mind, this series – I Know My Writes – will be dedicated to exploring my own creative pursuits, collaborations with Clint, and the kind of optimistic, semi-delusional approach to the world’s miasma you’d expect from yours truly as it relates to literature and various forms of media.
I’m going to keep riding the love train and there’s nothing you can do to stop me – hahaha (which feels almost as weird to type as ‘lol’)!
Oh, and I REALLY need to call my Grandma. ADHD is a wonderful thing, isn’t it?
thatfroninja. 