Best of Editing Luke #7

To be honest, I've never considered myself a hipster - at least it never seemed that way by comparison.  The connotation actually suggests a form of loathing to me.  The kind of person who would shun you if they saw you buy your groceries at Walmart or remove a song they liked from their iPod the minute they heard it on a popular radio station.

Then I thought about my traits.  I'm a former film student, current video editor and photographer, living in a loft apartment, who blogs, who fills walls with inspiration boards and make-shift posters, who over the last 6 months has stocked his fridge with increasingly more obscure brands of beer, and as of yesterday, a guy who redesigned a blog header featuring himself with stereotypical film-hipster glasses that have no practical purpose.  Oh yeah, I went there.

You won't find me shunning the mainstream however.  You also won't often hear me say that I don't like something because I think too many people already like it either.   

The few things that bother me about the mainstream are often easily applied to the things that bother me about most things in general.  No matter what social classification, it's a lifestyle built on distaste that I dislike (uh oh, double negative).  I just don't want to hear about a life defined by the ways it's been segregated, I want to hear about how amazing it is because of the things you've embraced.  

Originality shouldn't exclude others from sharing experiences, it should be defined by how unique your perspective, reaction, etc. is within those everyday occurrences.  This should be unshakable, and your passions shouldn't waver at the first sign of criticism.  If someone else liking or disliking something completely alters your perception of that thing, maybe you never really cared that much about it in the first place. 

Hipsters can be too far into the alternative to recognize that they're still a product of a mass culture, and likewise, the overly mainstream person is neglecting to see that most ideas evolve from far more obscure places than Hollywood.

I've created a paradox with my non-hipster, hipster critiques.  But what's clear to me now is that it's easy to become what you thought you were avoiding - or at least share some part of it.  We're all posers to some extent though, and that's a good thing. It means we're continually borrowing inspiration and finding ways to cycle through cultural influences. Then again, maybe I'm just a dickhead.

Best of Editing Luke #6

Over chipped pavement shadowed by golden facades, the palm tree lined streets of Hollywood Boulevard are brimming with activity. In a dream world driven by the promise of opportunity and stardom, the vendors of this dizzying street harp on about star homes, movie tours, and even their own work. It's lavish and seedy, exhilarating and perhaps even a bit sad.
 
The Kodak Theatre, home of the Academy Awards, is kitty corner to dingy tourist shops, posh retail outlets, make-shift museums, and chain restaurants. I love it for the same reason I love Las Vegas. It's an illusion that strives to bridge the gap between the homeless guy on the corner and the international celebrity that lives in the hills. The chances of seeing a real star amongst the impersonators is slim, yet still the continuous camera flashes dictate that everyone is invested in the scene.
 
A small time independent filmmaker like me is quickly lost in fantasy. As a kid this seemed believable, attainable, and even desirable. It might as well be a movie set now. Hollywood Boulevard is an amazing place that allows you to get lost in a flurry of movie gossip and entertainment euphoria, but it's also just symbolism on steroids. A fun ride for an afternoon, you can't help but feel like a commodity in such a tourist saturated locale.
 
I marvel at the Oscar statue knock-offs and amounts of people taking pictures of sidewalks, myself included. Hollywood Boulevard inadvertently forces you to consider all those who haven't made it while touring a walk of fame that lists those who have. Who are some of these stars anyway? The juxtaposition makes me appreciate my day to day editing for it's lack of glamour.

Another busload of tourists is unloaded in front of Grauman's Chinese Theatre as we head into Madame Tussuad's to take our pictures with wax. It's just another day in Hollywood.

For more, check out the footage I shot of Hollywood Blvd. in 2004 and my complete photo set from 2010. 

Best of Editing Luke #5

At times I find myself being fascinated by the simplest things. Moments of essentially little consequence, that only in the right frame of mind seem to trigger reflection or inspire me to think out a scene for a screenplay I haven't written yet. I doubt that this is uncommon as we all have moments that are conveniently entertaining, but I've discovered that the more I can absorb these moments the happier and more self assured I become.

For instance, today I was at Walmart and overheard someone say 'I have no idea where my car is, I parked somewhere out in the boonies'. I started to laugh because I refer to the 'boonies' all the time, and until hearing this other guy say it I thought to myself that I have no idea what that means. I guess it's just slang for the middle of nowhere, but still, boonies? When did that catch on and where did I pick it up? Pointless, I know, but there are a lot of dumb sayings that I've embraced over the years.

Also, today the temperature reached a new record high in Regina, beating a previous high from the 1920s. It was 37 degrees Celsius, the kind of hot and humid weather that makes you feel like you just got out of the shower and can't seem to dry off. The dorms are pretty good, I have AC in my room. My one roommate though, or person who also has a dorm here (roommate sounds like we know each other) insists on opening the windows on a daily basis (which leaves me following behind to close them). His reasoning for this could be to let out the smell of his cooking or maybe he likes fresh air, but all I can think about is that the work it took to cool off the place is lost in 5 minutes. Not to mention all the energy it wastes. Plus, how does 37 degrees feel good unless you're on a quest to turn your shoebox of a room into a personal sauna?

My history in residence is full of stories like this that both irritate and entertain (after the fact). There is enough material here for numerous seasons of a residence based sitcom. I'm a white guy in College West (the dorms) which puts me in the minority to a largely Asian population (especially during the summer when most Canadians have gone back to live with their parents or whatever). The cultural differences can be vast. Although, what I may justify as cultural differences is more likely the general stupidity of a select few.

I've learned to deal with residence life so when it came to the open windows on one of the hottest days of the year, I was once again cheerfully shocked as opposed to angry. In contrast, I've experienced everything from the routine loud music and roommates, to people using the toilet as a garbage disposal, cutting their hair in the kitchen and leaving it, and cooking food that smells like the sewer backed up. It's far from glamorous, but it's the kind of fodder and abuse that breeds creativity. No doubt, building character in numerous ways too. Any how, I've left a note on the windows, hopefully we can save some AC now.

The cherry on top of the day was getting a Slurpee (or technically a froster) at macs. With it being so incredibly hot, the machines were overworked and some of the Slurpees were pretty runny. A kid came up, maybe 8 or 9, and as he turned the lever to fill his cup a rush of liquid just sprayed all over him (clearly inexperienced). Noticing the obvious shock of the kid, and trying to hold back laughter myself I turned and said what anybody in that situation would say, 'that sucks'. Probably actually cooled himself off anyway, so, lucky kid. Not that I thrive on the bad experiences of others or anything, but it's the hiccups that keep things interesting.

Sometimes it doesn't take much to make a good day.