I moved to New Zealand from Winnipeg when I was almost five. I hated it. It was to a city in the south of New Zealand called Invercargill and there was constant rain. There was a depressing sensation in the air.

As lovely as people are to me about my performance, I'm still a huge critic. I like very little of what I ever do.

I love to watch my daughter. At twenty-two months, that little soul is developing at a rate I will never understand. She's kind of taught me that growth and expansion are a person's natural state and inclination.

At every turn you have to find a new kind of self-sovereignty over your environment. Every kid I see is at the mercy of Periscope, Twitter, or an Angry Bird of some description. People are shackled to their mediocrity by companies and businesses who want to consume your life with theirs.

The feeling of New Orleans is so pervasive. It's such a strange and decadent and enchanted embrace that that city has. There's a dark magic present. It's no wonder that it's been the hot bed for so much vampiric folklore. The city has got an ancient quality. It's one of the oldest cities in North America.

If you devote yourself entirely to a pursuit, there is no way you cannot find beauty and fulfillment.

We are taught to want a thing. We are taught that having that thing will make us happy. We are taught that having it immediately is the answer. We are taught a corrupted version of success. And love.