[Before reading this essay, please be so kind as to watch my short film “The Honey Garlic Man“.]

Approximately twenty months ago I graduated from the Vancouver Film School. I consider myself to have failed to live up to what the school was expecting from me, or at least what they wanted me to be. While I was attending the program, I went through a lot of changes, a lot of perspective shifts, and a bit of a crisis. In love, in friendship, in myself. In who I was, who I wanted to be, where I wanted to go, who I wanted to go there with. I’ve always said that the most important things I learned at film school weren’t the things they were trying to teach me. Yes, I learned a lot of useful, practical and essential knowledge on how to make a film. But the experience of being away from home, the place I had lived, habited and existed within for the last eighteen years. I was the first kid to move out of province, and the first kid to go to post secondary. It took about a year and a half for me to actually feel comfortable in where I was, and who I was. But that was after many, many anxiety attacks, many wasted opportunities, the end of a seven-year long relationship, and the departure of myself from a few people I considered to be very important to me.

The funny thing is to think back to how I was perceiving the situations that happened, and how I perceive them now.

Take the film The Honey Garlic Man for instance. It was the only thing I walked away from VFS with. The only thing I was proud to call my own. I gathered a group of very reluctant friends together to make some sort of mad monster pulled straight from the confines of my mind. I didn’t really know what the project was gonna be. I had two scenes, an intro, intermission and outro. I knew the parts, but what did they all mean? There’s a logical reason why I pieced everything together the way I did. Why i shot it the way I did. Why I walked around Vancouver with a shitty camera set to the lowest quality setting taking videos of parks, ambulances, trees, my feet, my bathroom, my girlfriend’s rabbits. I cut them all together and the plan was to play them on an old tube TV, which unfortunately did not happen, mostly based on my own lack of preparation [I asked someone to bring a TV but never had time to make sure I could somehow play the videos I had made on the television].

The project was our final in advanced cinematography. Create a visual journey. Or something to that effect. Create something that would evoke emotion, repulsion, admiration, whatever. But evoke it through visuals. We needed to put together a pitch project to present to our teacher. We needed our concept, and two different visual styles that it could be shot in. The instructor would then choose five winning pitches, and they would be made into short films, with a six-hour shoot and a limited gear package.

My two visual styles were german expressionism: bringing in black and white, high contrast and strange, eery shadows. My second concept was Harmony Korine: grungy, gross, uncomfortable. Something you hate looking at, but are endlessly fascinated by. That was basically the premise of the idea. To make people uncomfortable. Of course, the origins go back to when we were shooting the class finals in the term previous. The original concept was pure comedy. A man named Gunther Harlic works at a Honey Garlic factory. One day, he falls into a fat of honey garlic sauce and drowns. His ghost then proceeds to haunt the factor, tooling around in a wheelchair making strange, metallic whirring noises. He was covered head to toe in honey garlic sauce, and if he touched you, you had been “marked”.

I didn’t really follow it too closely, but when I made the film, I credited Deb and Paul, the friends I concocted the idea with, as concept creators.

I handed in the pitch, and figured there was no way it would be picked. There were fifteen other people in the class. There was no one mine would be picked.

Then came the day that the winners were announced. The instructor handed back all of the packages, but I found myself empty-handed. It took me a second to get it, but when I got it, I was giddy. He was still holding five folder. And one of them was mine. He handed it back to me and said he was intrigued by the idea of using an old tube TV. He wanted to see where it would go. Someone asked him what it was about and he told them to ask me. I figured that was a good sign. I was hoping for it to alienate the audience.

A couple of weeks later and we were going to shoot. I didn’t prepare too much, which was brought to my attention by Deb, who was an actor and production designer on the project. And who I reluctantly convinced to join my project instead of a different one that was set to shoot at the same time. I didn’t mean for my text to sound so… pleading. It may have come off differently.

The shoot was quick and easy. We had six hours and I used four. So then we sat and waited until we were allowed to return our equipment, which was scheduled at the end of the six hours. My lead actor, Paul left immediately after we finished shooting. I felt bad for him. He gave the performance I wanted, but he hasn’t talked to me about that experience or the film since, no matter how many times I’ve tried. Unless you count the time he referred to it as “his Vietnam”. There was a moment where I shot a little video of us shooting it, during the scene of him eating the chicken, honey garlic sauce smeared all over his face. While I finished recording the video and was looking down at my phone, I heard Paul utter “I’m done.” I looked up quickly and noticed him looking at me. I so desperately didn’t want him to think I wasn’t paying attention. I was. Well, to my phone, which I had just recorded maybe ten seconds of footage on. I felt horrible, but I played it off as if he hadn’t seen me and he was just done. I told him to go until he was finished.

He went straight out the door after that.

Now, it wasn’t part of the assignment to actually finish the project. Most people didn’t. I think I saw maybe two other finished shoots from this project. I got mine edited together right away. And the composer, and my best friend, Andy, was already working on the music for it. Things came together quite quickly and I waited until Halloween to post the video. I thought that was fitting, considering I had so lovingly dubbed the film as a “Silent Terror Comedy”.

I sent the video to my directing instructor [one of only two teachers at the school I would refer to as a mentor or inspiration to me, who would later be fired for a reason I’m not entirely clear on. Due to that, I’m not sure if I could recommend VFS to anyone anymore], and I sent the video to my cinematography instructor. My cine teacher told me “there is definitely a market for films like this” which pretty much meant “this is weird, I don’t get it, but if you think it’s good someone else might.” My directing instructor gave me a more detailed explanation, giving due props to Paul’s performance, and Andy’s music as well [which I consider to be the part of the film that actually makes it good].

I remember sending the video to everyone I knew, or at least everyone I respected or thought would enjoy it, or wanted opinions from. I also posted it on various social networks. I got into a discussion with one friend about what the film meant. I hadn’t really thought about it. The whole thing was based on the tone of it. It was more about the things it made you feel rather than the things it made you think. Not wanting to sound pretentious when I answered “I don’t know” I made up some bullshit about narcissism. About how it was me reflecting on my own narcissism. Which was bullshit.

Now, it’s a year and a half later, and I’ve watched the filmed many, many times, and at least three hundred and nineteen people have watched it, which is a number I’m damn proud of, and I thank every single person who took the time to watch the film.

Ever since I was a kid I’ve had outrageous anxiety issues. I never really called them that until recently. My mom told me when I was a kid I need to have the whole day planned out, and if something changed she needed to sit me down and explain to me why it needed to change. On top of that, being raised by television, the internet, pornography and the threat of a cooler older brother, I was coerced into a meek, apologetic and lonesome individual. To this day, I prefer being by myself a hundred times more than being with anyone else, whether it be my girlfriend, best friends, families, anyone. I spent my last ten months in Vancouver basically alone, not because I didn’t have people to hang out with, but because I liked waking up at noon, reading for three hours, walking to work where I would work a mindless job that I could not care less about until past midnight then walking back home, smoking a joint and sitting up until 2 or 3 in the morning watching movies, writing and drawing. It was fantastic. I enjoy nothing more than writing and drawing [which is another thing I realized more recently as I started to work as a photographer more and more].

Due to my anxiety, I have a predilection to stay in places I feel safe. With my friend, Deb, was one of those places. I just felt comfortable around her. We joked around and talked and neither of us cared [or at least I didn’t care] if we were sitting in silence together. There was nothing more to it than that. She felt like family. Unfortunately, because we spent so much time together people, including her, started to think I had feelings for her, she had feelings for me. I’m not sure about her side, but this confused me a lot, and I never really explored the idea until after my girlfriend and I broke up a day after Deb moved from Vancouver to Calgary, which was the day after we graduated film school.

I was left alone, empty, broken. I didn’t really realize it at the time thought. I told everyone I was happy. The same old bullshit everyone says when they go through a breakup. Except I had never been through one before. I didn’t know what to do with myself. What I did end up doing was losing all control over what came out of my mouth. I entertain a lot of ideas. I’m imaginative, I explore thoughts. So I started to explore these thoughts out loud to other people. I would just say things to see how people would react, or how they would perceive what I was saying. Because these people were my friends, they would humour me, they would consider my words. They would try to be there for me. There were three main people I went to, Deb, and my friends Evan and Adele. I haven’t spoken to Deb or Adele in over a year. I believe this is to do with my sudden and horrifying vocal vomit.

A lot of these thoughts were sprung from my anxiety about events in my life. What did these people think of me, what did I think of them. I questioned a lot of things, and explored a lot of things I had been tip toeing around for ages. My mental state, my upbringing, my sexuality, gender identity and style. But more than anything, what influenced me to be what I am today.

I kept up this largely unwarranted barrage of sharing until the following October, when my mother had a stroke. I was at a flea market when my brother called me to tell me. I wandered around in a daze, went to the bathrooms and cried and called my girlfriend, choking on my words and unable to speak. Why the fuck was I in Vancouver? I didn’t talk to anyone about it. I didn’t think anyone really needed to know about it. But the I stopped talking about everything. I started keeping things to myself again. Including my deep-set melancholy, and my worsening anxiety. Instead of searching for solace in the advice of others, I started spending more and more time alone, completely cut off from people. Which, depending on the day, left me more anxious or more happy. When I moved back to Alberta was when I started using marijuana medicinally to treat this anxiety.

It wasn’t until March of this year, on the weekend of my girlfriend’s birthday, that I really had to confront my anxiety issues. She went with a bunch of friends from work [AKA a bunch of people I had never met before and had nothing in common and how could I spend a night with all of these people?] to a restaurant that had moved a couple of tables and called themselves a nightclub. I had a couple of friends come too, so I wasn’t completely alone.

Then all of my friends left. My girlfriend was having fun with her friends. I didn’t know any of these people. So I drew a werewolf with condiments and a knife. My girlfriend told me I looked autistic, so I left. I was angry. More importantly I felt as though I was sinking into myself, getting further and further away from what would traditionally perceived as a “human being”. I felt like shit. And then i started to explore why I felt like this. And what it was exactly that I was feeling.

I ended up coming across some articles, watched certain movies, and a particular book written by a woman who suffered from general anxiety disorder, that I knew what to call it. In fact, I had gone back and watched my favourite film, Nicolas Winding Refn’s Drive. And I related to the protagonist more than ever before. He was so anxious, so uncomfortable. He did things out of an overwhelming uncertainty. I finally understood why I loved this film. But that got me thinking, if I could perceive this film from a completely different perspective, what else would I see differently with my new perspectives on myself and my inspirations?

So i took another look at the film I had made: The Honey Garlic Man.

I wasn’t that surprised to feel an overwhelming sense of clarity about the project. What it was I was saying, whether it be unconscious or not. There was always a part of the film that was meant to be ambiguous, that was meant to allow the audience to derive whatever meaning they thought the film had. But allow me to explain the film as I perceive it:

I could have spent this essay explaining to you how I personally experience anxiety, but the easiest way for you to understand is to watch the film.

Gunther is my surrogate in this story. Gunther comes to this party and finds himself in an unfamiliar situation, with unfamiliar people. And he’s a little different from everyone else, even if he doesn’t perceive that. Being in a situation like that, at a party, a bar, wherever, is extremely emotionally taxing on me. Minutes become hours, I begin to feel my skin crawl. My heart races and I become light-headed, not enough to pass out, but enough to feel my face getting warmer as it reddens. The long shots, the stares, the lazy synth, these are all direct manifestations of my anxiety. That is literally how I feel at a party. Everyone might as well be wearing animal masks and ignoring me.

The intro, intermission and outro, these are all direct representations of Gunther’s mind. Of my mind. Racing, searching, seeing. It doesn’t sit still and ideas leave it and enter it completely of their own volition. Consider the Intro: Gunther is at home, with his rabbit. But these other thoughts, of fear, loneliness, emptiness, come into his mind and he can’t help it. Then onto the intermission: Gunther is on his way to a date with the rabbit girl, as we find out in the next scene. His feet walking, ambulances flashing by, playgrounds, Houdini. These are the little glimpses he remembers. The textural details that linger in his mind.

Before I get into the outro, we come to the second scene. Before any situation, I run every possible scenario through my head, at least all of the bad ones. One of my worst habits, which was pointed out by a longtime friend to me, is to always expect the worst out of every situation. And it’s true. Nothing is ever as bad as I assume it will be. This scene, the dinner scene, this is directly related to that. Going on this idea, where does the dinner scene take place? A restaurant, an apartment, or Gunther’s mind? It’s gross, and ugly and Gunther knows he’s ruined everything he could have had with the rabbit girl, which is why in the outro she is with the wolf boy, and not Gunther. I’m very worried about screwing up. In everything I do. Friendships, relationships, jobs, hopes, dreams, art, conversations, whatever. I think my biggest fear is to fail. Myself more than anyone else. I know who I want to be, but it’s hard to see myself getting there, and a lot of my present anxiety comes from that. I went to film school, now what? I quit my job and I’m starting a production company? I know nothing about running a company.

In short, I have no idea what I’m doing. But the one thing I learned from my period of over sharing is that sometimes, confronting issues out loud, especially ones I’ve dealt with in my mind for so long, can be extremely healthy for my mental state.

So I invite you to watch The Honey Garlic Man, maybe it’ll get a few people a couple of steps closer to understanding me. Of course, I’m still in the process, so there are lots more to come.