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Personal

Found Film

Back in what truly feels like another lifetime, I made a bunch of short movies, most at summer camp, CEGEP or university.

After spending most of my youth determined to pursue an acting career, discovering filmmaking felt like a revelation. Now I could tell my own stories! No one judged me on my appearance! Good riddance to all the discouraging casting calls!

So I produced a slew of short films and videos on Super 8, Hi8, SVHS, 16mm, and other now-obsolete or prohibitively expensive formats. I graduated with a Communication Studies degree, and had a career in the industry. I felt a particular passion for documentaries. While I had no problem getting work as an associate producer, production coordinator, assistant director, and script supervisor, it turns out I never loved working in film and TV. In fact, at times, I hated it. The interpersonal politics were sometimes stifling and the work could vary wildly between stressful and exhausting, to mind-numbingly boring. Government tax-credit applications, anyone?

Eventually, the World Wide Web (yes, we called it that in the 90s) became a thing, and I taught myself HTML and started building websites on my own. The rest, as they say, is history.

During my recent sabbatical, I decided to get my old film and video productions digitized before the tapes deteriorate even more. Rewatching them now makes me cringe for many reasons – Why did I put myself in so many of them? Why is the editing so awkward? Why did I often pick such cheesy music? – but some are also fun to watch.

Here’s one I made about the then-obscure Drawn & Quarterly comic publisher, produced as a demo for a CBC show I was trying to get onto – an English version of Course destination monde, if anyone remembers that from the 90s in Québec. I made it to the final round, but ultimately wasn’t chosen as one of their globetrotting videographer-journalists. (I cannot for the life of me remember the English title of the show, so evidently it didn’t become a hit.) Instead I spent the next two years working as assistant director on Iris, The Happy Professor for TLC, alongside a wacky local crew and a cast of raunchy puppeteers. But that’s a story for another time.

Categories
Personal

Soundtrack of a Sabbatical Summer

While on sabbatical I’ve had a few songs on repeat as I’ve been reflecting on the past, processing the present, coming to terms with some big changes in my life, and trying to just be. Hard stuff, but this music has helped.

Alanis Morissette – Unsent

I was inspired to give Alanis another listen after seeing Tranna Wintour’s homage Dear Alanis: A Musical Comedy. Theme song of this post.

Sara Bareilles – Armor

I’ve loved this song since I first heard it on CBC Radio and realized it was a new track from one of my favourite singer-songwriters. In a strange twist, I only first watched the video this week, and it clicked that the song shares the title of one of my favourite posts from last year, and echoes similar themes.

Tegan & Sara – Where Does The Good Go

Theme song for my Year of Big Change. Also my Year of Binge-Watching Fifteen Seasons of Grey’s Anatomy. (Still have several seasons to go. Holy moly they made a lot of episodes.)

Pharrell Williams – Happy

A new, but welcome, feeling for me lately.

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Travel

Visiting Villa Kitty

When my beloved cat Sophie recently escaped, I postponed the departure date for my sabbatical trip to Southeast Asia – and seriously considered cancelling it altogether. I didn’t feel right leaving with her still out there somewhere, and certainly couldn’t imagine enjoying a vacation.

When Sophie joyously returned home, I went ahead and took the trip, only having to delay my departure by a few days. One of the things I’m so grateful I still got to do was visit Villa Kitty.

♦ ♦ ♦

When I was planning the Bali portion of my trip, I knew I wanted to try to get off the beaten tourist path a bit. Beaches and waterfalls and temples are lovely, but what do I really care about most? Animals are high on the list. And of course, more specifically, cats.

Tabby basking in the sun

In the process of researching photo tours, I learned about Villa Kitty, an Ubud cat rescue founded by Elizabeth Henzell. Reading about their work struck a chord, so I wrote to Elizabeth, who graciously invited me to spend some time volunteering. While the rescue pays staff like vets and animal technicians, there’s never enough time to cuddle and play with all the cats and kittens, to help heal and socialize. That’s where volunteers come in.

Elizabeth Henzell, founder of Villa Kitty
Elizabeth Henzell, founder of Villa Kitty

When I got to Villa Kitty, Elizabeth welcomed me warmly. The whole operation blew me away – a huge serpentine maze of brightly coloured corridors and open spaces full of cats and kittens playing, sleeping, curled together in cages, quarantine rooms, and play areas, depending on their age and health status. The place is currently bursting at the seams, housing 300 cats, but the space is well organized and efficiently run.

Molly Parr Isolation ward

People walk into Villa Kitty with tiny kittens found in gutters, ditches, and river banks; cats who are injured, orphaned, or abandoned; and every other heartbreaking scenario you can think of. Staff bottle-feed the littlest ones, perform free sterilizations for the community, and continually spread the word about caring for cats responsibly. They place kitties in foster homes and find adoptive homes for as many as possible.

One-eyed cat in cage

I wish I’d had more time to spend with all these cuties, but I know I’ll return if I’m ever in Bali again. And if you’re a cat lover who finds yourself in Ubud, your cuddles are needed at Villa Kitty – so don’t hesitate to reach out!

♦ ♦ ♦

Visit Villa Kitty on the web, Instagram, or Facebook.

White and tabby kitty meowing in cage
Categories
Food Travel

Pasar Ubud

When I was planning a sabbatical trip to Southeast Asia, I looked around to see if there might be any photography-related excursions along my route. I stumbled across a morning market photo tour in Ubud, Bali, that sounded intriguing. As it turned out, not only did the person offering these tours run them on a donation basis – with money going toward local animal charities – Mark Chaves is also a WordPress developer with a site hosted on WordPress.com! It seemed meant to be, so I signed up for a tour and hoped for clear weather.

When Mark asked ahead of time what kind of photography I’d like to focus on, I mentioned that I’d like to get better at street photography, but tend to feel shy about taking photos of people. He said this was a common problem, and that he’d compile some tips in a blog post. Within a few weeks he made good on his promise, and I found the post about how to approach “making” photos in public places extremely helpful, even inspiring: Strangers Are Friends We Haven’t Met Yet. I vowed to put into practice what I learned.

♦ ♦ ♦

It was my last day in Bali and I met Mark at 7am outside the bustling Pasar Ubud. While I’m far from a morning person, I knew it would be worth it!

Mark seemed to intimately know every nook and cranny of the market, pointing out details and interactions I never would have noticed on my own. He encouraged me to take lots of photos quickly, which helped me avoid overthinking and capture more spontaneous shots. He knew many of the regulars working the market, and made people smile when he asked if it was OK for me to take photos. We even stopped to greet some of the resident stray dogs and feed them the treats he’d brought along in a small plastic container.

Mark feeds a local stray dog

I’m so glad Google led me to Mark’s site that fateful day. It was a memorable experience, and I love the photos that resulted.

Categories
Personal

Lessons Learned from a Lost Cat

As a longtime indoor-cat mom, my worst fear is one of my cats escaping outside. It’s something I’ve always been paranoid about – my front vestibule is called “the kitty airlock,” and I watch visitors like a hawk when they open the back patio door to make sure no feline slips out.

About a month ago, my nightmare scenario became an awful reality.

When I was forced to leave my house with my three year-old tabby Sophie following an exterminator visit, street construction noise caused her to panic and throw herself repeatedly against the sides of her carrier. She literally broke the plastic door hinge, and it popped open. She immediately took off like an elite parkour athlete. I watched her dash down the street, darting into people’s open doors, through houses under renovation, onto balconies, and most horrifyingly, along narrow window ledges. I immediately dropped everything I was carrying and went after her, but I simply couldn’t catch up, and she disappeared. A neighbour came out to help, bringing cat treats as an enticement. Construction workers stared at me like I was an alien.

I was utterly devastated, filled with guilt that I’d failed her. I’ve had cats before, but Sophie and I have a special bond. She’s offered steadfast companionship and affection over the last year, always by my side as I’ve made my way through a difficult personal transition. And I’d let this happen to her. Many tears were shed.

I won’t keep you in suspense. Early one morning, Sophie sauntered in the door I’d been keeping open, after four days of outdoor adventuring – more likely four days of hiding, terrified, tucked away in some nook under a nearby neighbour’s deck or shed. More sobbing ensued as Sophie stared at me, looking perfectly fine, if a tad confused at my outburst.

The experience was a surreal and harrowing one, but it did spark several intense epiphanies that I can’t stop thinking about, and that’s really what compelled me to write this post.

Community of Caring

Over the course of the ordeal, I experienced the most unbelievable support from friends, family, and acquaintances. People brought food and drink – and reminded me to consume it, since I had no appetite. They went out searching nearby streets and alleys – early in the morning, in the scorching midday heat, and even taking a bus to my place at 3:00am, when a local vet said people tend to have the most luck finding missing cats. They made posters and put them up, talked to strangers and neighbours and shopkeepers. They brought flowers, hugged me tight, and rubbed my back while I cried. They slept on my couch so I wouldn’t wake up alone. People who couldn’t be with me in person sent heartfelt messages, checking in on and encouraging me, expressing their sadness at my loss, sharing their own stories of cats lost and found, telling me they’d be there if they were closer. They reminded me it wasn’t my fault, even though I felt I’d utterly failed a creature I love with an intensity that’s hard to describe.

The outpouring of support floored me, and I was and am so grateful. People I knew only casually stepped up to help in ways I never would have imagined. Their warmth and caring and hands-on efforts were the silver lining that helped me get through the devastation of losing Sophie. I am incredibly lucky to have these people in my life. Not everyone does, and I will try to never take it for granted.

Why Worry

To say I’m a worrier is an understatement of immense proportions. Anyone who knows me reasonably well would probably describe me as an anxious control freak. I worry about logistics, minute details, things I can’t control. Little things, mostly. But a lot of little things.

In the middle of the ordeal I felt two giant hands reach down and grab my shoulders. Although I was alone in the house, there was also a voice. And it said something like this:

Stop worrying about all this stuff! It’s not important and things will work out somehow. You’re wasting so much energy. Life is short!

The experience was a wake-up call, reminding me that I invest way too much energy in worrying about the little things, and that it sucks time and energy away from what’s really important. I knew this already, of course, but this was such a visceral experience, and it shook me.

Next

Now that Sophie’s back, I’m trying to hold onto what she taught me by disappearing for four days. While I hope never to repeat the experience, the lessons learned will stay with me forever.

Appreciate my friends and family more. Talk to my neighbours more. Sweat the small stuff less. Yes.