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Though it drove my husband crazy at first, he has now embraced the way I have dubbed this time of year in reference to our media consumption Boring Season. My husband, Jay, is an indie filmmaker and cinephile. Even outside his personal craft, his family used to bet on which movies would win at the Oscars for which categories, and I think there was also much debate in the group chats about the Golden Globes, etc. To be honest, I had never actively watched any of these awards

2025 was not the worst year of my life. After the past five, my expectations are very low. In a machine gun fire of deaths, lockdowns, small business closures, and interpersonal landmines, having a year where only one friend died and I didn't have to shut the doors on something I worked endless hours to bring to life... yeah, it's a win. Not to be a fucking bummer. New Year's always makes me reflective, and as cliche as that is, I don't think it's a bad thing to spend some t

A haunted story about a Christmas Gift gone wrong.

That's it. That's the post. ... ... Are you still here? Okay Okay Okay. I'm never as creative as I am when I am collaborative, or at least in conversation with other people. Even when I am just in a flow state of making shit, it never begins well in a vacuum. I hated a lot of things about art school (I dropped out after second year) BUT I did have a favourite thing: Life drawing class. Nearly every morning for the entire two years I was at OCAD I would take whatever ear

I'm probably the worst business owner I know. Now, before the people I love rush in with their extremely well-intentioned chorus of, "noooo, Chris, you're so passionate, you're so ambitious," I want to tell you that it is objectively true. I'm impatient, disorganized, overly-sensitive, and allergic to money. I have never had a marketing plan. I lose the "why" of what I'm doing on a daily basis. I have raging imposter syndrome. I hate being in charge of everything with nearly