the not-so-inspiring post about inspiration

It's not that I'm against socialites. It's not that I'm against the scene or hate on everyone who's a part of it. What it really comes down to, is now that I've completely withdrawn from it, now that I've taken myself away from the scene as much as possible, I realize that I didn't enjoy the person I was while I was in it. The great parts of me were hidden, while the lesser parts of me were embellished.

A few years ago, I went to dinner at this man Conrad's place in southern Florida. Several Argentinian filmmakers were present. We spent the evening talking about Descartes and Anne Sexton's poetry. About foreign film and the revolutions that took place in history. By the end of the evening, we were all gassed from red wine, so we took the party outside onto the patio. We danced under the stars and hugged the sky. That night, I was the girl I like. I was someone with confidence and inspiration and creativity. I was pleasant and well mannered and fun and completely uninhibited. The girl I was in Ottawa or Whistler's scene is different. And I don't think I have room for the latter anymore.

Last summer while I was away from BC visiting Ottawa, a buddy had posted on my FB wall "What will the Whistler scene ever do without its Queen?". Reflecting on this, I say to myself, I don't want to be the queen of any scene, or anyone, but myself. I want to own who I am, good and bad, and experience everything possible to encourage the little-yet-big personality inside of me. The real one. I have met some intellectual and stimulating people within the scene, both here and in Whis, but collectively, the "scene" and each "group" of people, sum up to a bunch of (dare I say it?)-- FLUFF.

I don't mean to come across as snobby. If people want to drop acid to party instead of to paint, then step right to it. I suppose I've come to realize that I'm too humble to take part in the scene's night life or social life. That I'm just not fierce enough because quite honestly, I'm just too fucking honest. When you're as honest as I am, everything around you suddenly seems so false. Whether this is a tragic flaw or a great gift, I have yet to figure out, but I know that I don't need social status to be popular, a thousand photos of me on FB to be seen, or a loud attitude in a bar to be heard. All I need is the true me and an outlet...and of course, my outlet is writing.

Okay, so now that everyone thinks I'm a mass hater...Let me express what I DO love!

I've discovered how much I absolutely adore nature. That I'd rather be barefoot by the lake dancing to a friend's acoustic guitar, than stuffed in a bar with mad bass pumping into my ear drums. I prefer to be outside where everything is alive, than inside, mimicking everyone around me and behaving "accordingly." I like boat shoes instead of heels. I do the things I do because I like them. Not because it's trendy. I substitute milk with soy for the same reason. I have a vegetable garden in my yard because I'd rather know where my veggies come from, not because I'm taking part in the hundred mile diet. I love Nestle. She's the sweetest little pup ever. We've been going on these grand hikes together and getting lost and stuck in the rain.On those days I don't even hide from the rain, I twirl in it! There's something so pure about being vulnerable to nature. Something so sincere about working for nature, instead of making it work for you.

I haven't the slightest clue what the point of this post is. I suppose I just got home from my best friend Ashley Dawn's apartment (see her blog link on my page) and every time her and I get together, we can't shut up about the things that inspire us. I simply wanted to get all of this out before the thoughts dissolved into my frantic mind. I'm such a scatter brain these days.

Oh yes and Bertha is back on the road. She's so perdy. She's got a new windshield!

I can't believe that girl has taken me to Cannmore and back to whis, and whis to Ottawa. She just won't die.