So simple.

The entire commerical after 0:03 is completely made of still shots. The spot doesn't overemphasize the product (Canon Rebel XSi) but simulates motion through rapid-fire stills.
I don't know; It's just beautiful.

Director: Andrew Douglas
Music: Sacred Noise

Happy freakin' December.

Between Tuesday and Wednesday, I had an exam, 2 finals, and a presentation. I was happy as a clam last night after all was said and done. I went to the bar behind my apartment by myself. I sat down and ordered a beer. I smiled and shamelessly hit on the bartender.

The guy to my right, Lars, is a senior at my university majoring in english and philosophy. He enjoys reading short stories and fiction by authors I've never heard of and made it a point to let me know that my poor taste in reading selection was ultimately inferior to his.

To my left was a person I'd met earlier this year; the friends that introduced me to him look up to him as some sort of oracle. (They also told me that I'm a huge loser for studying a lot and going to graduate school.) I never really understood this, everytime someone said anything to him ("how's the weather outside?"), he would gaze off into space until all the particles and quarks solidified to form the answer to your question, and definitively affirm that it's 62 degrees and partially sunny with a slight breeze from what feels like the west. Everytime you spoke to him. So it surprised me that this insightful fellow was sitting next to me smoking some Natural American brand cigarettes. Attempting to incite conversation, I sarcastically remarked that "they're terrible for you in case you haven't heard". Now, the monologue that ensued was perhaps the most uninsightful knockoff of Zeitgeist that I've ever heard. Two things I learned about this guy:

1. He must have taken me for a complete idiot.
2. He thinks that he conceptualized Zeitgeist and brought it into being.

He's a first generation immigrant to America, legitimate citizen with a greencard and everything, but ironically, he hates being here. He ex-/com-plained how everyone that works owes the worst debt by owing their soul to the universe. Everyone from the tobacco industry, to the doctors that help tobacco users, to the people that dig their graves, all owe much more than their debt to the "Fed" (you've got to watch the movie to understand this); "the working man", he says, "owes their soul to the universe...only when they're not working can they ever be liberated". Universal debt: that's apparently the name of the game. For the first 10 minutes, I pretended I'd never seen the movie or performed any extensive research into the validity of this theory, but after a while, seeing how skewed his perception of the world was, I had to let him know he didn't just think up these ideas while sitting there talking to me.

As much as I enjoy conversation completely plagiarized from a socioeconomic/religious conspiracy theory film after stuffing my brain for 3 months with information that might actually matter in saving someone's life someday, I was disgusted. I couldn't believe that people really buy into this and was even more awestruck they'd try to push these beliefs onto others. This is our society. Ideas are toxic.

Last call rounded the corner and thankfully for my shortening temper, he left to continue "being owned by his debt". (This is the sound of me shaking my head in annoyance.) I chatted with the bartender for a bit longer and signed my receipt with my phone number, something I had only previously heard of in tales from friends. I walked home in the cold.

Only two more finals to go to finish out the longest semester of my life.

So long Richmond.

I woke up this morning at about 7am. I made a cup of coffee. I put two of my bags in my car. I got a "Good Morning" greeting from my friend "G" en route to the car. "G" wanders our street all day and night asking people for change and especially likes to solicit in front of my apartment.

I drove around the city.

This morning was especially overcast, about 42°F, bare trees, foliage in the streets, trash on the sidewalks. There were a few of G's friends puttering around the sidewalks, aimlessly wandering to who-knows-where.

For the first time, in my eyes, Richmond was ugly.

When I first came here 5 years ago, I wanted to own this city. I wanted to know everyone that was important and every person that could make a difference at the university. I wanted to be a doctor. I wanted to save lives. I wanted nothing but to make a difference in someone's life by bettering their health. I can't do that here. I hate this city.

My dad, who has his own small business, wants me to get a job. "Keep going to school if you want, but don't keep thinking that medical school is a possibility for you" he said, a nice way of saying that I'm too dumb to get in (or that I won't make a good doctor, I couldn't tell). He only wants me to be happy, and thinks that when I have an income I'll be happy, just like him. Except he's not happy, and he has an almost-six-figure income. Up until this year, he was as supportive as he's capable of me chasing my dream, but there was something about me graduating that made him all of a sudden want me to get a job immediately.

Fine Dad, you win. No more "chasing of dreams". But I'm done here. And now I'm leaving.

This begins the struggle to move across the country, where I've always imagined myself, in California.