Crushing Krisis

Comic Books, Drag Race, & Life in New Zealand

Personal

28 years, 51 weeks: pt. 2

by

Tuesday, September 14, 2010. 28 years, 51 weeks.

Tuesday was a day. That’s the most positive thing about it I can muster. That, and work never reached the temple-pounding stress of Monday. I even left on time.

At home I desperately attempted to render some order to the studio. My gear had been in disarray since our house concert, with mic stands and guitars strewn through every room in the house. The back-to-back rehearsal and gig the prior weekend had scattered things even further. I was finding microphones in couch cushions and quarter inch cables under my bed.

Still tidying, from my attic window I spotted Gina walk across our driveway and up the path to our door. Having shed my work clothes I wore only underwear as I flung open the window and screen and hollered, “Be right down!”

Laundry, I reminded myself, you need to do laundry for the gig.

I barely managed to get myself into a pair of jeans by the time I hit the front door and Gina smiled, accustomed to finding me in states of half dress ever since she lived in the apartment above mine in 2001. [Read more…] about 28 years, 51 weeks: pt. 2

28 years, 51 weeks: pt. 1

by

Monday, September 13, 2010. 28 years, 50 weeks, 6 days.

I woke up and immediately felt unprepared for the week ahead.

That’s not the kind of way you should feel as soon as you open your eyes in the morning. Especially not on a Monday. It should be prohibited as an emotional state.

What’s more appropriate? Maybe, “It’s morning!” possibly amending “Already?” Or, “I’m tired.” Even the old standby, “I’m hungry.”

Those are the sorts of feelings to have upon waking up. Lingering dread is more the sort of feeling you want to avoid. [Read more…] about 28 years, 51 weeks: pt. 1

28 years, 51 weeks: intro

by

It is six thirty-five in the morning, and I am on my way to work to begin raising hundreds of thousands of dollars for charity for two hours before doing my actual job.

I slept about three hours last night. I have eight-hundred more words due on a freelance assignment before midnight tonight and then rehearsal for the next two nights. I’ll have Thursday night to myself, unless I go out to see the show I’d like to see. Somewhere in there I have to fold some laundry and edit and upload a few gigabytes of videos for three different bands.

All that, and turn 29, on Wednesday.

Sometimes I don’t know how I’m supposed to do it – be this thing that I so desperately want to be. Like some Sisyphean Looney Toons sketch, I feel like I’m constantly plugging leaks in a giant dam only to have a new one spring for each I’ve stopped.

Can I be a successful professional in good shape with a happy marriage, an evening music career, a well-kept home, and writing gigs on the side?

Last week I tried to do it all. I was moderately successful, but it meant I was too busy to blog about it at the time. Does it defeat the purpose of being moderately successful if I don’t have time to blog about it?

Well, I’m making the time now. I’ll be moderately successful, damnit.

Critical or Contrary?

by

Critical or contrary – which one are you? More importantly, can anyone else tell the difference?

The topic is on my mind thanks to something Gina said to me a few weeks ago. E and I were chatting with Gina after the last show of her Fringe Fest play. We joked about different narrative structures – ways her play of three connected one-acts could be turned backwards or inside out to get a different reaction.

(I know, nerds, right?)

At some point this phrase emerged from my lips:

That would be very Nolan-esque – like Inception, only without being awful.

Now, I don’t want to get into Inception drama – we’re all entitled to an opinion. I typically love Nolan, but what’s relevant here is people who liked Inception outnumber the dislikers nine to one and I’m in the “dislike” camp.

That’s where Gina’s response comes in. She whipped her head over to me and said,

Oh, Peter, you’re just contrary.

After years of having buck teeth and big ears, very few insults get under my skin, but this one cut deep.

I protested, “I’m not contrary! I’m just critical. I like plenty of things other people like. Twitter! Dark Knight! Lady Gaga!”

Despite my protests, Gina stuck to her label. To her, I’m contrary – I frequently dislike things enjoyed by a majority.

I don’t see that as contrary – just critical. If my reasoned response is to dissent on a musician or a movie while 90% of the world loves it, that’s part of my critical barometer. If you don’t like Inception either, maybe you’ll agree with some of my other opinions. Whole recommendation engines have been built on this idea, like Netflix and Hunch.

Disagreeing just means I’m critical, not contrary. Right? If we all agreed all of the time, what would be the point of art?

Let’s return to my opening query: critical or contrary – which one are you?

The answer is probably both. It depends on the perspective.

Like the proverbial stopped clock, any committed critic is going to come off contrary sometimes, just like a dedicated contrarian can still hit the critical mark on occasion.

Your challenge is that people listen to critics and ignore what’s contrary. When you’re the odd one out as a critic you still have to frame your opinion in a way that can engage and inspire your audience – even if that’s just your best friend.

Which one am I? In my head I’m a critic, and when it comes to music almost everyone  I know trusts me to be one – because I offer reasoned opinions about everything from Gaga to Rodrigo and Gabriella. With movies, if I only take the time to dish on popular films I dislike (which are numerous) clearly I’m coming out all wrong. If I want my disappointment in Inception to be taken seriously maybe I need to dial up my enthusiasm about movies slipping past other people’s radars.

What about you?

rodrigo and gabriella.