I don’t know if blind optimism is a side effect, but I’m going with it right now. Not a lot is bothering me at the moment. I’m chipping away at each little and big project a notch at a time. Whether it’s shooting, planning a shoot, editing, working on images for the graphics, or simply walking in the park whilst letting my mind wander to ideas and creativity, it’s all working towards the goal. Making more movies of any kind. 
I still need help getting movies made. I cannot create in a vacuum. I need to bounce ideas off of people and to make [b]GOOD[/b] movies, I need great craftspeople. They don’t hand out awards to those who just make [b]GOOD ENOUGH[/b]. I want to make movies of a degree of excellence that heretofore have not achieved. I want to push myself to do better.
This blog has always just been for me. I mean, there are a handful of good friends that read this to keep up with me, see how I am doing. That motivates me a little, but mostly it’s just a place to write. Writing this blog is a sandbox of ideas. It’s an expression. It’s a reminder to myself. It can be a place to vent my frustrations. Although I try not to anymore, sometimes it is a soapbox.
No harm is intended to any individuals. If that is a by product of my words, then I apologize. Sticks and stones, as they say. I have found that words hurt far less than the lack of words. I write and even this blog becomes as redundant as a conversation with me, the circular approach and reiterations of thoughts and ideas. Still, I must write.
I was reminded today of an experience that will remain holy in my life. 16 years ago I was writing a screenplay. I had the kernel of an idea that was growing in my mind. One day I started to write. I left work at the evil giant singular banc where I was a broker, and went home with a partial sick day. I wrote from 2:00PM, then blinked and it was 11:00PM. I was amazed that the characters started writing their own dialogue in a fashion. What lurked around the next corner was completely unknown to me and as they discovered it, so did I. It was one of those miraculous writing experiences where you feel like a vessel for the story, not the other way around.
None of my ideas are dead, just dormant. I want to wake a lot of them up. I see an army of ideas fueling several productions. The horizon lays before me like a golden sunset. Happy days, peaceful nights, and stories being told by a shaman around the fire.
Is that not what life should be about for a storyteller?
[i]”I’m hearing right and wrong so clearly, there must be more than this, it’s only in uncertainty that we’re naked and alive, I hear it through the rattle of a streetcar, hear it through the things you said, I can get so scared, listen to the wind, I hear that voice again”
– Peter Gabriel[/i]
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