Growing out

Life under construction

AideeEverAfter has been a solace, portfolio, hobby, safe space, and gallery of my growth and experiences. Thank you for dropping by an old home

Moving on from university, from old habits, other head spaces, and on to new places 🍃

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A Lone State

A year and a half ago I stumbled on what is still one of my favorite silent shorts and I’m revisiting it. If you watch it, you’ll find it isn’t so silent after all. The only words uttered in the voice message in the beginning leaves a painful spell that remains long after anything is ever said. It nudges most who are familiar with this kind of feeling, a feeling unsure of what it is and what it can be as it changes minute by minute. The film rests on these changing internal tides where accepted solitude is constant. Backed up by a new retro inspired score, my favorite specifically being Video Dreams by Haunt, it explores the varying emotional states of heartbreak that turns into a stabilizing peace. He doesn’t seem lonely to me, just alone and as is with having nowhere to be with nobody else. But I can sense his state of missing.

The frustrated com arts major in me would’ve liked to work on a project quite like this one. If not for the unique play on music, it was a treat to the eyes more than anything. Viktor Pakpour’s cinematography is subtle in his panorama but particular with his setting. His color choices almost look surreal in the day then alternates with a relatable rawness in the evening which wonderfully capture the boredom and beauty in “life goes on”.

It’s not romantic, it’s the anti-romantic but especially artistic take on the reality of solitude today. I do enjoy taking romantic trips to convenient stores on my own too, does that count? I don’t live in the US but if this looks nothing like the high soaring American dream, this might just be the high point of its opposite in fact. He’s lost and he doesn’t mind, and this looks to me and obviously Victor Pakpour as one of the nicer places to go missing. We live in a pressing time wherein so many of us are actually being missed and missing the other, but always surrounded by the wrong crowds among things.

The six and a half minute short is like a trip back in time to my favorite decade, the 80s with hints of the 90s. I’m almost jealous because it’s hard to find yourself comfortably alone in the cross between what we’re never sure is suburbia or a mega city anymore. This is an acceptable form of withdrawal he was almost forced into by his situation, and he’s taking it rather chill, rather well if I might add. He does it in style. It’s interesting to note that he never once brought out his phone to connect to the past or to the far off others unlike all proper young adults living out realities posted online or y’know, it didn’t happen. And it looks like he can’t be bothered to. This film reminds me of the times I found myself under one of the sky’s many pastel hues despite being remotely removed from the side of the world I’d rather be in, and for a minute I can’t be bothered to as well.

The (Un)Art of Winging It

*Unlike my usual midnight posts, I’m even making a change in the time I publish things, weee. This was finished at 9:34 in the evening. Pause for applause. The night is young, haha. If you’re a crammer, you might relate 😛


“I’ve been a crammer my whole life,” I confess with a misplaced sense of pride in between the highs of getting there in the middle of the night, the more indescribable highs of actually getting lucky, and the lows of only recently failing to.

Who wouldn’t feel like gray-hoodie sporting Rocky at the end of that Gonna Fly Now scene, after getting through almost anything and everything last minute? Claiming I work best under pressure, almost appropriately I show up the morning of the exam in a sweatshirt. Inserting a quote about diamonds in the rough; linking an over-shared meme because we all relate. I’ve romanticized my own bad habits, blamed technology, referred to my Myers & Briggs type, given power to my own opponenttime and pressure, then likening it to a skill that happens to work wonderfully well with natural smarts and talent.

brokenwingin

that’s supposed to be a coffee hourglass haha

I realized I wouldn’t look back at my 17 years of schooling and think sentimentally of the latter “mornights” trying not to doze off to 40 more impossible pages. A clock never looked so scary. I’m searching for an excuse not to make it to class. Can I afford it? Nah. It’s a crappy feeling, for lack of a better word. I stay up beyond the suggested number of hours. I wake up (and I mean in the right mind finally) two weeks later, reading a draft I previously submitted full of typographic errors, ranging from minor spelling mistakes to greater mishapssomething about a dog and McDonald’s, and maybe some Freudian slips here and there. My pre-med progressive penmanship, hieroglyphics to the untrained eye, on daunting piles of yellow pad paper, has proven I’ve been half asleep through my classes. I have as well been more than half asleep through all that late night homework. I might even be a half-sleep-talker and it translates in writing, now a half-sleep-writer, apparently there may be such a thing.

My cool “winging it” academic life motto has lost its charm. I hope to say I used to call it, “The Art of Winging It” in my own head a lifetime ago, even if it was just yesterday and predictably a preview of the following weeks. It’s not an art, it’s no beautiful mess. It’s just messy and sheer luck; two things that aren’t going to keep getting me very far. Like every other thing that has for a while seemed shiny and my own: the night, yummy 3-in-1 coffee, starting after 12, and the relief after the storm; it gets old.

As I threw caution to the wind, taking time off what I’m currently cramming, to write about it, I’m shedding the heavy pair of broken wings that have carried me just inches above from metaphorical waves of those scary 0.0’s time and again. Call me a recovering crammer, I won’t be winging it anymore. I never want to need more time and I want to start drinking coffee while the sun is out, like a proper adult.

clock

[21:28]

promisetodad

Last night I had one of those nights wherein I just had to get up from bed and send messages to my dad cause he’s out of the country.

Even if there really are things I can’t control, stuff I might regret and may never come to terms with, and it’s all just waterworks-inducing so much so I refuse to write about it, I’ve decided to actually just try to work on my promises like a big girl would.