The countdown begins from the first breath.
A life full of moments
Missed and taken
More missed than taken
Took to the lam from trying
Hiding
In plain sight from the fear of success
Punch the clock
While the moments
Pretend
To make a difference
To change the world
Convince ourselves that the job matters
More than the life missed
Breaths sucked in under the yoke of make believe money
It ain't nothing
It everything - to us
It's nothing to time
To sand
To space
To the vastness on the edge of which we
Reside
Keeping score
On an imaginary ledger of points in a game no-one wins
No escape
No egress
All stress
Make that difference
Be that change
For you
For the mirror
So the last breath you give
Holds as much promise as the first one
You took.
Monday, November 25, 2013
Sunday, June 24, 2012
To My Fellow Graduates . . .
I had the occasion recently to attend a high school graduation. I was there to see a group of young people I had had the pleasure of working with these past five years age instantly before my eyes. It is to these fine people and grads around the world that this is addressed.
My own matriculation occurred some 21 years ago. It was a proud seminal moment in my life, a crowning achievement, and the culmination of 13 years of schooling. The thing is, I don't remember much of it. The sands of time have shifted over the years, obscuring the details, dulling the memories. To be honest, I'm not even sure that the remembrances I do have weren't aided by the photographs scanned after the fact. The memories of the momentousness of my big night have faded into a recollection among others of things past.
The reason I mention all of this - aside from being a massive prick - is to actually give you some hope, believe it or not. Right now, and over the past few weeks, amid the elation and relief, have likely been some tears and even a few fears (that would make an awesome band name). While it's true that a huge and defining part of your lives is coming to an end, the rest of it is just starting.
Oh. So that part's also causing you to shit the proverbial bed?
Well, what if I told you that a part of the rest of your life is just starting? Up to this point in your life, you've likely been led to believe that your life is divided into three parts --> before high school, during high school, and after high school. Right now the after high school part is looking pretty big huh? Well it is. It's freaking huge. There's just so much to do. The truth is, however, that the best part of living life is figuring out how you want to live it. The trick is, you can't figure out what you want to do with it unless you go out and do.
Go. Do. Some of my newly minted friends may find that familiar.
I've told every class and every student I've ever taught and every actor I've ever directed that I'd rather see them fail spectacularly than succeed mediocrely. What I mean is that in life, as in scene-work, you need to launch yourself at your goal with 100% of your efforts. Without complete commitment, you will never succeed completely.
Success through failure.
Failure in life is unavoidable. Lack of commitment is entirely avoidable. If you want to be an actor, failure is 90% of your career, but it is also present in every other profession and in life. If you don't fail, you will never understand what it takes to succeed.
Be passionate.
Don't do anything halfway. Give everything your all. I don't care what you want to achieve in life, but allowing your passions to guide you is a great way to lead a happy life. The old adage reads: "Do what you love and you'll never work a day in your life." But it runs deeper than that. Show yourself to be passionate in every aspect of your life and you'll never have to wonder "what if?"
Lastly, realize that in all of this you only have one life. Don't let anyone take that away from you by making if less than it deserves to be. Don't allow others to dictate the terms of your life. Don't waste the finite preciousness of your existence. Be good to others. Be honorable. Be moral. You are the sum of your experiences. The better the experiences, the better the sum. Some days those experiences are unmatched - yes, para-sailing with the Dalai Lama in the AM and dinner and strip Yahtzee with Carrie Underwood in the PM was pretty amazing, but so too was that solitary latte when you fell in love with Hemingway, or that time you laughed for an hour over some inane joke with a friend.
You're too young to get this yet, but life hurtles past you at break-neck speed. Don't waste any of it needlessly beating yourself up or not following your dreams. Jump in with both feet and squeeze every last drop of awesome out of it. Don't let anything get you down longer than you have to. Love yourself. Be in love. Be proud of yourself. Your families are proud of you. I'm proud of you.
Do great things.
My own matriculation occurred some 21 years ago. It was a proud seminal moment in my life, a crowning achievement, and the culmination of 13 years of schooling. The thing is, I don't remember much of it. The sands of time have shifted over the years, obscuring the details, dulling the memories. To be honest, I'm not even sure that the remembrances I do have weren't aided by the photographs scanned after the fact. The memories of the momentousness of my big night have faded into a recollection among others of things past.
The reason I mention all of this - aside from being a massive prick - is to actually give you some hope, believe it or not. Right now, and over the past few weeks, amid the elation and relief, have likely been some tears and even a few fears (that would make an awesome band name). While it's true that a huge and defining part of your lives is coming to an end, the rest of it is just starting.
Oh. So that part's also causing you to shit the proverbial bed?
Well, what if I told you that a part of the rest of your life is just starting? Up to this point in your life, you've likely been led to believe that your life is divided into three parts --> before high school, during high school, and after high school. Right now the after high school part is looking pretty big huh? Well it is. It's freaking huge. There's just so much to do. The truth is, however, that the best part of living life is figuring out how you want to live it. The trick is, you can't figure out what you want to do with it unless you go out and do.
Go. Do. Some of my newly minted friends may find that familiar.
I've told every class and every student I've ever taught and every actor I've ever directed that I'd rather see them fail spectacularly than succeed mediocrely. What I mean is that in life, as in scene-work, you need to launch yourself at your goal with 100% of your efforts. Without complete commitment, you will never succeed completely.
Success through failure.
Failure in life is unavoidable. Lack of commitment is entirely avoidable. If you want to be an actor, failure is 90% of your career, but it is also present in every other profession and in life. If you don't fail, you will never understand what it takes to succeed.
Be passionate.
Don't do anything halfway. Give everything your all. I don't care what you want to achieve in life, but allowing your passions to guide you is a great way to lead a happy life. The old adage reads: "Do what you love and you'll never work a day in your life." But it runs deeper than that. Show yourself to be passionate in every aspect of your life and you'll never have to wonder "what if?"
Lastly, realize that in all of this you only have one life. Don't let anyone take that away from you by making if less than it deserves to be. Don't allow others to dictate the terms of your life. Don't waste the finite preciousness of your existence. Be good to others. Be honorable. Be moral. You are the sum of your experiences. The better the experiences, the better the sum. Some days those experiences are unmatched - yes, para-sailing with the Dalai Lama in the AM and dinner and strip Yahtzee with Carrie Underwood in the PM was pretty amazing, but so too was that solitary latte when you fell in love with Hemingway, or that time you laughed for an hour over some inane joke with a friend.
You're too young to get this yet, but life hurtles past you at break-neck speed. Don't waste any of it needlessly beating yourself up or not following your dreams. Jump in with both feet and squeeze every last drop of awesome out of it. Don't let anything get you down longer than you have to. Love yourself. Be in love. Be proud of yourself. Your families are proud of you. I'm proud of you.
Do great things.
Monday, February 20, 2012
Inspire Me He Said . . .
Inspire me, he said.
Craning to the Heavens before faltering and crashing to Earth.
Picking himself up and dusting himself off, he looked skyward once more.
Inspire me, he said.
Reaching for the unreachable, he slipped, tripped, plummeted, fell on his knees.
One foot and then the next.
Breathe the breath.
Think the thought.
Dream the dream and try again.
Bigger.
Better.
More.
Fight for the light.
Need the need.
The passion of the doomed.
The spinning rock gives you one go.
So go.
One chance.
You can't stop time, can't stop the turning.
You can only ride the ride.
Inspire me, he said.
This time was different.
He didn't look up, didn't look down, didn't look out.
He looked within.
Lightening flashed, thunder clapped.
And kept on clapping.
There.
Inside.
The thousand points of light burning away.
The fire inside.
The need.
Inspire me, he said . . .
Craning to the Heavens before faltering and crashing to Earth.
Picking himself up and dusting himself off, he looked skyward once more.
Inspire me, he said.
Reaching for the unreachable, he slipped, tripped, plummeted, fell on his knees.
One foot and then the next.
Breathe the breath.
Think the thought.
Dream the dream and try again.
Bigger.
Better.
More.
Fight for the light.
Need the need.
The passion of the doomed.
The spinning rock gives you one go.
So go.
One chance.
You can't stop time, can't stop the turning.
You can only ride the ride.
Inspire me, he said.
This time was different.
He didn't look up, didn't look down, didn't look out.
He looked within.
Lightening flashed, thunder clapped.
And kept on clapping.
There.
Inside.
The thousand points of light burning away.
The fire inside.
The need.
Inspire me, he said . . .
Saturday, February 4, 2012
Looking Back At Myself
I like my lines. Those etchings in my visage. Those ephemeral furrows of a life lived. Of laughs had. Of laughs made. I'm proud of those little reminders of years ticked off. Of experiences had. Of battles won. The older I am, the more I've survived. Battle scars of wind and time.
I don't feel old. Don't think old. I feel as young as I ever did. Just grumpier. Just more placid. More satisfied. More unsatisfied with waiting for life to happen. Go and live it. The secrets of life seem less secretive now. What is important so much more tangible. Friends get divorced now. Friends die now.
Each new stage of life comes more quickly now. Races up to you and is gone again. Before you saw it. Before you knew it. How did we get here? How long ago? Familiar refrains now. Black and white long gone. Absolutes vaporized into reality. Seeing the depth beneath the water. Like a graph turned 3-D.
Seeing the world more simply. Beyond the politicking. Beyond the superficiality of man made desire. The rational reality of fact. Simplicity at a higher level. A Universe immune to us. A world that outlives us. Every one of us. Being born to die. The understanding of which lets us live more fully.
Gaze into that glass. Revel in the evidence of time. Immemorial. In memoriam. Age is a gift denied so many. Too many. Live your life vicariously through yourself. Be a living monument to the passed. To the past. But most of all -- relax.
I don't feel old. Don't think old. I feel as young as I ever did. Just grumpier. Just more placid. More satisfied. More unsatisfied with waiting for life to happen. Go and live it. The secrets of life seem less secretive now. What is important so much more tangible. Friends get divorced now. Friends die now.
Each new stage of life comes more quickly now. Races up to you and is gone again. Before you saw it. Before you knew it. How did we get here? How long ago? Familiar refrains now. Black and white long gone. Absolutes vaporized into reality. Seeing the depth beneath the water. Like a graph turned 3-D.
Seeing the world more simply. Beyond the politicking. Beyond the superficiality of man made desire. The rational reality of fact. Simplicity at a higher level. A Universe immune to us. A world that outlives us. Every one of us. Being born to die. The understanding of which lets us live more fully.
Gaze into that glass. Revel in the evidence of time. Immemorial. In memoriam. Age is a gift denied so many. Too many. Live your life vicariously through yourself. Be a living monument to the passed. To the past. But most of all -- relax.
Thursday, January 19, 2012
Pen
The tease of inspiration,
Of art held at pen's edge,
Struggling to stay distant,
Begging to be intimate
With the paper.
The pen drifts across the sheet
Lazy.
Willfully aware of its limitations,
Fearful of muddying the waters of inspiration
With so dull an instrument
As its own hand.
Guiding but not grasping
The depth of its own desperate genius.
Letting it happen of its own accord
As all art must for those without the gift
Of conscious talent.
Drifting, dancing,
Reckless but free.
Flitting and teasing
Gently and awkwardly caressing
Like a hand in the dark reaching for a body
Waiting for the electricity
To strike
To heave up and explode
Like the birth of a
Universe.
Water
Tripping light across the water
Bubbles burbling, gurgling,
Living and dying on the surface -
Scratching at the air
Before retreating to the depths of their own ego.
Existence passing below them as they
Transition willfully
Futile in their hope to move beyond the water's scope
The world they'd know if they could only
Know consciousness.
But alas . . .
Impossible for something that fails to exist
Longer than it does not.
Wednesday, December 14, 2011
This Temporary Life
Your life, and mine, and all lives in fact are, by their nature, anomalous. When you think about the sheer amount of circumstances needed to fall into place for you to exist . . . well let's just say that's it's a lot more likely that a particular human being won't exist than will.
Not a single one of your ancestors failed to breed. Each one of them survived infancy and childhood. Every one one of them lived to adulthood. Don't get me started on the math required to demonstrate that you exist solely because each one of your ancestors mated with your specific other ancestor (out of a smorgasbord of other potential mates) at that exact moment back to the beginning of time.
You are the product of countless generations. You are at the sword's point of evolution. You are an anomaly. We all are.
So when you consider the actual living miracle it is that you're here, don't forget that every other one of your planet-mates is in the same boat. From your family members, to your neighbors sure, but also to those starving children in some far away land that you've seen pictures of but would rather click past than be troubled by. It's not just you. None of us likes to be sad, and thoughts like that make us sad.
We occupy our little place on Earth for a time so quick, it's practically over the moment we realize it is. When you're a kid, a hundred years is a thousand lifetimes away, when you get a bit older you realize it's just one. At a certain point, your vitality is behind you. Your youth and energy are trapped in photographs yellowing in an album somewhere.
If you're of the fortunate ones, you get to see your skin sag and hair whiten, you're blessed with memories that may need a jump-start every once in a while but are long and rich. My Dad has always said "Age is a gift denied to so many". Ain't that the truth. As much as we shake our heads and feel sympathy for our elderly brethren, they are the fortunate ones.
This life is temporary no matter how long we shuffle this mortal coil. Just being here is a miracle left unfulfilled by literally trillions of other potential people - who knows how many geniuses we're never to hear of. Every decision you make in your life should honor that evolutionary miracle that puts you behind a computer reading this. Every choice you make for your own life should also take into consideration the fact that every other being on this Earth is as much of a miracle as you and should be treated as such.
Your whole life is spent in transit - from the moment you slip into the world to the moment you slip out. It's easy in this make-believe world of ours to put so much importance on details that we forget the big picture. We spend so much time living our lives that we forget to be alive.
In this temporary life of yours remember to live. Stopping to smell the roses was a cliche to me until I moved into a house with rose bushes.
Not a single one of your ancestors failed to breed. Each one of them survived infancy and childhood. Every one one of them lived to adulthood. Don't get me started on the math required to demonstrate that you exist solely because each one of your ancestors mated with your specific other ancestor (out of a smorgasbord of other potential mates) at that exact moment back to the beginning of time.
You are the product of countless generations. You are at the sword's point of evolution. You are an anomaly. We all are.
So when you consider the actual living miracle it is that you're here, don't forget that every other one of your planet-mates is in the same boat. From your family members, to your neighbors sure, but also to those starving children in some far away land that you've seen pictures of but would rather click past than be troubled by. It's not just you. None of us likes to be sad, and thoughts like that make us sad.
We occupy our little place on Earth for a time so quick, it's practically over the moment we realize it is. When you're a kid, a hundred years is a thousand lifetimes away, when you get a bit older you realize it's just one. At a certain point, your vitality is behind you. Your youth and energy are trapped in photographs yellowing in an album somewhere.
If you're of the fortunate ones, you get to see your skin sag and hair whiten, you're blessed with memories that may need a jump-start every once in a while but are long and rich. My Dad has always said "Age is a gift denied to so many". Ain't that the truth. As much as we shake our heads and feel sympathy for our elderly brethren, they are the fortunate ones.
This life is temporary no matter how long we shuffle this mortal coil. Just being here is a miracle left unfulfilled by literally trillions of other potential people - who knows how many geniuses we're never to hear of. Every decision you make in your life should honor that evolutionary miracle that puts you behind a computer reading this. Every choice you make for your own life should also take into consideration the fact that every other being on this Earth is as much of a miracle as you and should be treated as such.
Your whole life is spent in transit - from the moment you slip into the world to the moment you slip out. It's easy in this make-believe world of ours to put so much importance on details that we forget the big picture. We spend so much time living our lives that we forget to be alive.
In this temporary life of yours remember to live. Stopping to smell the roses was a cliche to me until I moved into a house with rose bushes.
Sunday, November 27, 2011
Rain
Rain falls from the heavens
Misting sheets like curtains
Wash the roads
The cars
The people's crowns.
It clouds his life
Depresses him
Uncleansing drizzle
Tripples, freezes his hands
A cigarette comforts him
Smoke wafting past his face
People hurry past hunched
Stooped in an effort to avoid
The downward plummet
Liquid clouds falling to Earth.
Buildings rush skyward
To meet the droplets.
Millions, like an invading force
Invading his world, his thoughts.
Consumed with Rain.
Misting sheets like curtains
Wash the roads
The cars
The people's crowns.
It clouds his life
Depresses him
Uncleansing drizzle
Tripples, freezes his hands
A cigarette comforts him
Smoke wafting past his face
People hurry past hunched
Stooped in an effort to avoid
The downward plummet
Liquid clouds falling to Earth.
Buildings rush skyward
To meet the droplets.
Millions, like an invading force
Invading his world, his thoughts.
Consumed with Rain.
Tuesday, November 22, 2011
Stand Alone On A Stage
Stand alone on a stage and be. Be that person deep inside that yearns to break free, to exist, to breathe. That person that yearns to surface. To lurch from the yoke of the water's grasp and gulp down lungfuls of acrid air - heavy in the incense of a ritual to be observed yet not obeyed.
Stand in the light and be seen. Seen for the most vulnerable face of you, made raw in the spot's light. The honey glow of truth and redemption and fear. Numbing fear of failure to be ignored and trampled on, trounced, made ready for the purchase of a new grasp. A new grip. A handhold on the granite face of that thing you call life.
Stand with nothing. Nothing but your honesty. Your honesty that in that moment alone you are true and real and strong and nimble. Feel that mutinous heart beat from deep within that cavernous chest and answer back with a quiet calm and resolve born of redirected fear.
Stand and see. Not the audience or the curtains or the stage, but your own hands and feet. See what you inhabit and own. What you control. What husk you are and will leave. But for now, here you are. In this moment. On this stage. See with the eyes of ten thousand men and women what space you occupy and in whose body you live. See the mirror in your own mind and adore that shell of yours for the vessel it is to guide you through this pain and love and peace.
Stand in that pool and feel. Feel that charge, that electricity, that inspiration, that perversion of a talent that you have at your disposal and stand in awe of what you will spend a lifetime seeking and chasing and yearning and loving and being in deep addiction to. That resonance that feels so good and seems so hardly out of reach. Be lifted to your toes by your own inspiration. It bubbles to the surface. You part your lips. You open your mouth. And you . . .
Stand alone on a stage.
Stand in the light and be seen. Seen for the most vulnerable face of you, made raw in the spot's light. The honey glow of truth and redemption and fear. Numbing fear of failure to be ignored and trampled on, trounced, made ready for the purchase of a new grasp. A new grip. A handhold on the granite face of that thing you call life.
Stand with nothing. Nothing but your honesty. Your honesty that in that moment alone you are true and real and strong and nimble. Feel that mutinous heart beat from deep within that cavernous chest and answer back with a quiet calm and resolve born of redirected fear.
Stand and see. Not the audience or the curtains or the stage, but your own hands and feet. See what you inhabit and own. What you control. What husk you are and will leave. But for now, here you are. In this moment. On this stage. See with the eyes of ten thousand men and women what space you occupy and in whose body you live. See the mirror in your own mind and adore that shell of yours for the vessel it is to guide you through this pain and love and peace.
Stand in that pool and feel. Feel that charge, that electricity, that inspiration, that perversion of a talent that you have at your disposal and stand in awe of what you will spend a lifetime seeking and chasing and yearning and loving and being in deep addiction to. That resonance that feels so good and seems so hardly out of reach. Be lifted to your toes by your own inspiration. It bubbles to the surface. You part your lips. You open your mouth. And you . . .
Stand alone on a stage.
Friday, November 4, 2011
What The Hell Is Wrong With People?
A bill was passed in Michigan today that started life as a piece of anti-bullying legislation despite the fact that it ended up being opposed by all of Michigan's State Democrats and the father of the boy who inspired the bill. Why the opposition to the bill after wanting it to help the young people being bullied across Michigan?
Because of a last minute addition to the bill:
"A last-minute addition to “Matt’s Safe School Law” protects “sincerely held” religious beliefs or moral convictions from being considered bullying. Critics feel the language will give anti-gay bullies a “license to bully” by providing an exception. ”This is just unconscionable,” said Matt’s father, Kevin Epling of East Lansing. “This is government-sanctioned bigotry.”"
In other words, if your religion tells you to hate people for being different, then it's a-okay to bully them.
This of course prompts me to ask:
WHAT THE F*** IS WRONG WITH PEOPLE?????
Not that I don't like a choice bit of hatred . . . no, wait, scratch that - it's the opposite, right? I really can't stand this level of government and church sponsored hatred.
There is something broken in our society these days, and it's not the other guys. It's us. You know why?
Because we as a society have no balls.
I really don't believe that the majority of folks are a**h***s - I truly think they are the minority - it's just that the majority seems to have absolutely no balls when it comes to standing up against them.
It's time for the rest of us - you know, the good ones - to stand up to these morons, these dunces, these sacks of human effluence, and tell them to shut up, sit down and let the smart ones drive for a while.
Because of a last minute addition to the bill:
"A last-minute addition to “Matt’s Safe School Law” protects “sincerely held” religious beliefs or moral convictions from being considered bullying. Critics feel the language will give anti-gay bullies a “license to bully” by providing an exception. ”This is just unconscionable,” said Matt’s father, Kevin Epling of East Lansing. “This is government-sanctioned bigotry.”"
In other words, if your religion tells you to hate people for being different, then it's a-okay to bully them.
This of course prompts me to ask:
WHAT THE F*** IS WRONG WITH PEOPLE?????
Not that I don't like a choice bit of hatred . . . no, wait, scratch that - it's the opposite, right? I really can't stand this level of government and church sponsored hatred.
There is something broken in our society these days, and it's not the other guys. It's us. You know why?
Because we as a society have no balls.
I really don't believe that the majority of folks are a**h***s - I truly think they are the minority - it's just that the majority seems to have absolutely no balls when it comes to standing up against them.
It's time for the rest of us - you know, the good ones - to stand up to these morons, these dunces, these sacks of human effluence, and tell them to shut up, sit down and let the smart ones drive for a while.
Saturday, October 29, 2011
I'm Not An Artist Anymore
I have a confession to make: I'm not an artist anymore.
I've always been an actor. I've always needed to perform. For all intents and purposes, I've been doing it as long as I can remember.
I remember the moment my mother looked at my father after I had finished performing yet another little "skits' and said to him, "we should get him into theatre". I remember my first class, my first presentation, and my first show. I remember the audience. The applause. It appeared as though this was what I was and had ever been.
I was 9 years old.
I continued down the path, gaining experience and praise until at 14, I was invited to join a local agency. The first parts came, and then the first series: "The Adventures of the Black Stallion". Three years we shot - in Canada, France, and New Zealand. Some amazing times and memories were made. I loved working. I loved earning money. The show ended after 78 episodes, and I chose to stay in Vancouver rather than head south to LA, to sun, and to bigger and better. I picked home over away because I had spent so much time away, that I wanted to make a home. I thought I would grow here. Other series came and I worked a lot, but plateaus were reached. A friend of mine has said that Vancouver is less a springboard and more a diving board. And although many exceptions have proven the rule, in my case it seems that the rule proved the rule.
I'm happy with and proud of what I've accomplished, but the artistic element in me has remained unfulfilled. To be fair, I have brought it on myself. I've long regarded what I do to be the business that it is. I'm not in the scene anymore. I checked out years ago. I'm not a very "actor-y" actor and am a solitary one at that, and with a family my priorities have changed. But I do feel that I may have done myself a disservice. I don't feel connected to what I do anymore by doing it. It is - in my opinion - supremely difficult to be artistically fulfilled as an actor in the film industry without having long term projects - at least the fulfillment that I want.
My artistic connection to acting is maintained by the teaching of it. I've been instructing people in the ways of screen-acting for some 19-ish years. I've been accused of being a good teacher, but I would argue that I'm not such a good teacher as I am a good director. I can read people, notice their foibles, tell when they're lying. I love the psychology of acting and bringing students to new breakthroughs. I love showing people how deep and difficult acting is when done right and how brilliant and rewarding it is when submerged in it.
I'm approaching forty now. Sure I'm aging gracefully, and while my children make me old before my time, my wife keeps me young with her own youth. Age tends to sharpen one's focus though, and I've realized I don't want to be just a businessman actor, I want to be an artist again. I need to stretch, to shake off the rust. I need to go back to my roots - I need to go back to the theatre. But I also need to go my way. Honestly.
I love acting. Always will. I also love directing. This is why I've decided to start a small - some might say tiny - theatre company in the new year. Original material. Brilliant young actors. A long journey. I have no idea of the details (yet) - only that it needs to breathe. Bigger and better. Always bigger. Always better.
I've always been an actor. I've always needed to perform. For all intents and purposes, I've been doing it as long as I can remember.
I remember the moment my mother looked at my father after I had finished performing yet another little "skits' and said to him, "we should get him into theatre". I remember my first class, my first presentation, and my first show. I remember the audience. The applause. It appeared as though this was what I was and had ever been.
I was 9 years old.
I continued down the path, gaining experience and praise until at 14, I was invited to join a local agency. The first parts came, and then the first series: "The Adventures of the Black Stallion". Three years we shot - in Canada, France, and New Zealand. Some amazing times and memories were made. I loved working. I loved earning money. The show ended after 78 episodes, and I chose to stay in Vancouver rather than head south to LA, to sun, and to bigger and better. I picked home over away because I had spent so much time away, that I wanted to make a home. I thought I would grow here. Other series came and I worked a lot, but plateaus were reached. A friend of mine has said that Vancouver is less a springboard and more a diving board. And although many exceptions have proven the rule, in my case it seems that the rule proved the rule.
I'm happy with and proud of what I've accomplished, but the artistic element in me has remained unfulfilled. To be fair, I have brought it on myself. I've long regarded what I do to be the business that it is. I'm not in the scene anymore. I checked out years ago. I'm not a very "actor-y" actor and am a solitary one at that, and with a family my priorities have changed. But I do feel that I may have done myself a disservice. I don't feel connected to what I do anymore by doing it. It is - in my opinion - supremely difficult to be artistically fulfilled as an actor in the film industry without having long term projects - at least the fulfillment that I want.
My artistic connection to acting is maintained by the teaching of it. I've been instructing people in the ways of screen-acting for some 19-ish years. I've been accused of being a good teacher, but I would argue that I'm not such a good teacher as I am a good director. I can read people, notice their foibles, tell when they're lying. I love the psychology of acting and bringing students to new breakthroughs. I love showing people how deep and difficult acting is when done right and how brilliant and rewarding it is when submerged in it.
I'm approaching forty now. Sure I'm aging gracefully, and while my children make me old before my time, my wife keeps me young with her own youth. Age tends to sharpen one's focus though, and I've realized I don't want to be just a businessman actor, I want to be an artist again. I need to stretch, to shake off the rust. I need to go back to my roots - I need to go back to the theatre. But I also need to go my way. Honestly.
I love acting. Always will. I also love directing. This is why I've decided to start a small - some might say tiny - theatre company in the new year. Original material. Brilliant young actors. A long journey. I have no idea of the details (yet) - only that it needs to breathe. Bigger and better. Always bigger. Always better.
Friday, September 23, 2011
Dear Mark Zuckerberg
Dear Mark Zuckerberg,
I think you're great. For real - you were amazing in Zombieland! But if I may be so bold as to suggest that your recent changes to Facebook, while brilliant for ADD afflicted chihuahuas, doesn't really jive too well with your more seasoned users - you know, those of us with a firm and troublesome grasp of linear time and in possession of one set of eyeballs.
Now, while I understand that Justin Timberlake convincingly argued the benefits of expansion in that wicked restaurant scene, I would also like to point out that that character was also later arrested for possessing drugs that may or may not lend themselves to wanting 150 different things to look at in one's newsfeed while meticulously cleaning one's home at three in the morning because one's waiting for a cake to bake because one suddenly became hungry in the wee hours after an all night pool party. Just saying . . .
I'd also like to point out that while you displayed razor sharp intuition picking apart the Winklevoss twins' lawyer in that boardroom scene, that doesn't mean you have a profound grasp on what I'd like to see in my newsfeed within a newsfeed (hint: It's not what friends are "liking" on other friends' statii). Algorithms are sexy and stuff, but they can't be used to read my mind. Only my wife can do that - and even then it's mainly only concerning whether or not I had that last cookie, or whether or not that girl that just walked past was cute or not.
Don't get me wrong Mark, I like your Facebook thing. It's free, it's a good networking tool, and it lets us all creep our exes' profiles to see if they wound up better or worse off after dumping us. The thing is most people like our social networking the way we like our relationships - initially exciting, eventually dependable, and with no huge sweeping changes that leave us confused and scared and trying desperately to figure out why it keeps bringing up stuff from last week in the middle of a conversation about Farmville.
Thanks for your time,
Richard
P.S. I hope they make Adventureland 2
I think you're great. For real - you were amazing in Zombieland! But if I may be so bold as to suggest that your recent changes to Facebook, while brilliant for ADD afflicted chihuahuas, doesn't really jive too well with your more seasoned users - you know, those of us with a firm and troublesome grasp of linear time and in possession of one set of eyeballs.
Now, while I understand that Justin Timberlake convincingly argued the benefits of expansion in that wicked restaurant scene, I would also like to point out that that character was also later arrested for possessing drugs that may or may not lend themselves to wanting 150 different things to look at in one's newsfeed while meticulously cleaning one's home at three in the morning because one's waiting for a cake to bake because one suddenly became hungry in the wee hours after an all night pool party. Just saying . . .
I'd also like to point out that while you displayed razor sharp intuition picking apart the Winklevoss twins' lawyer in that boardroom scene, that doesn't mean you have a profound grasp on what I'd like to see in my newsfeed within a newsfeed (hint: It's not what friends are "liking" on other friends' statii). Algorithms are sexy and stuff, but they can't be used to read my mind. Only my wife can do that - and even then it's mainly only concerning whether or not I had that last cookie, or whether or not that girl that just walked past was cute or not.
Don't get me wrong Mark, I like your Facebook thing. It's free, it's a good networking tool, and it lets us all creep our exes' profiles to see if they wound up better or worse off after dumping us. The thing is most people like our social networking the way we like our relationships - initially exciting, eventually dependable, and with no huge sweeping changes that leave us confused and scared and trying desperately to figure out why it keeps bringing up stuff from last week in the middle of a conversation about Farmville.
Thanks for your time,
Richard
P.S. I hope they make Adventureland 2
Monday, September 12, 2011
Stop Stupiding Up the Planet
Here's the thing - everybody's good at something.
Some of us are good at studying.
Some of us are good at sports - like gymnastics . . .
Others of us are good at eating bananas . . .
. . . okay, maybe that's a little much.
But the point is, we all have different strengths and talents.
Some people - scientists like Mr. Darwin for example -
- are good at being smart.
While people like Mr. Limbaugh -
- are really good at being pig-headed, ass-faced drug addicts who cater to the lowest common denominator and pander to the extremists by playing their own fears against them.
See? Everyone's good at something.
Every time I read the comment sections on news articles about Evolution online, I get the sense that the people who are really good at eating bananas are fancying themselves as being on the same level as Mr. Darwin.
Well, they're not.
These people get scared because science seems to be contradicting certain deep-seeded beliefs. They say that humans and apes are not descended from the same ancestor.
Although I wouldn't mind sharing an ancestor with the fetching Janet here - I'm sure you'll agree.
As a species, we have a lot of beliefs about nature and the Earth - some of them substantiated by science, some of them refuted.
The thing is however, that I can assure you that believing in something or not, doesn't change or make true or false something that exists or doesn't exist of its own accord.
My humble request would be that we let the people who are good at being smart take care of the smart stuff and led the banana eaters take care of the bananas.
Some of us are good at studying.
Some of us are good at sports - like gymnastics . . .
Others of us are good at eating bananas . . .
. . . okay, maybe that's a little much.
But the point is, we all have different strengths and talents.
Some people - scientists like Mr. Darwin for example -
- are good at being smart.
While people like Mr. Limbaugh -
- are really good at being pig-headed, ass-faced drug addicts who cater to the lowest common denominator and pander to the extremists by playing their own fears against them.
See? Everyone's good at something.
Every time I read the comment sections on news articles about Evolution online, I get the sense that the people who are really good at eating bananas are fancying themselves as being on the same level as Mr. Darwin.
These people get scared because science seems to be contradicting certain deep-seeded beliefs. They say that humans and apes are not descended from the same ancestor.
Although I wouldn't mind sharing an ancestor with the fetching Janet here - I'm sure you'll agree.
As a species, we have a lot of beliefs about nature and the Earth - some of them substantiated by science, some of them refuted.
The thing is however, that I can assure you that believing in something or not, doesn't change or make true or false something that exists or doesn't exist of its own accord.
My humble request would be that we let the people who are good at being smart take care of the smart stuff and led the banana eaters take care of the bananas.
Friday, September 9, 2011
Haters Gonna Hate . . . Because They're Assholes
I have a lot of great fans. Fans Tony the Tiger would be proud of.
They visit me on my fan page, they visit my website, they visit this blog, they write their government representatives to tell them how great I am, and some of the more female and attractive fans even send in bikini shots of themselves posing with cakes because they know how much I like cakes.
But then there are the anti-fans. Not Auntie Fan - she's lovely.
No, I'm talking about the haters. You know the ones - the total douche-bags that live on the internet and smack talk everything that comes their way.
They are also known as trolls - as in the things that live under bridges and eat childrens' bones, only in this case the bridge is their mother's basement and the childrens' bones are Hot Pockets and Tang.
I've come across a few of these guys and gals over my years as an F-List celebrity (that's right baby, F-List - I've had it confirmed by NASA. They apparently have a lot of down time these days).
They're generally on YouTube and love to slam me and call me a jerk, and weird looking, and small. Now to be fair, all of these things are true, but they wouldn't know that because they've never met me.
Although I may have met them. I wouldn't know. You know why? Because although literally billions of people hate on me on the interweb, figuratively zero people have ever said anything to my face. You know why?
Simple. Haters are pussies.
These people hate on everything and everyone. From that 14 year old girl Rebecca Black, to that 17 year old girl Justine Bieber, trolls attack anything that reminds them that they're angry at the world because their mom doesn't serve the Tang cold enough to their gaming liar.
So I say screw 'em . . . not literally of course!
I'm pretty sure they all have some kind of immaculately spread venereal disease that makes everything itch and 8-bit characters sexually appealing.
They visit me on my fan page, they visit my website, they visit this blog, they write their government representatives to tell them how great I am, and some of the more female and attractive fans even send in bikini shots of themselves posing with cakes because they know how much I like cakes.
But then there are the anti-fans. Not Auntie Fan - she's lovely.
No, I'm talking about the haters. You know the ones - the total douche-bags that live on the internet and smack talk everything that comes their way.
I've come across a few of these guys and gals over my years as an F-List celebrity (that's right baby, F-List - I've had it confirmed by NASA. They apparently have a lot of down time these days).
They're generally on YouTube and love to slam me and call me a jerk, and weird looking, and small. Now to be fair, all of these things are true, but they wouldn't know that because they've never met me.
Although I may have met them. I wouldn't know. You know why? Because although literally billions of people hate on me on the interweb, figuratively zero people have ever said anything to my face. You know why?
Simple. Haters are pussies.
These people hate on everything and everyone. From that 14 year old girl Rebecca Black, to that 17 year old girl Justine Bieber, trolls attack anything that reminds them that they're angry at the world because their mom doesn't serve the Tang cold enough to their gaming liar.
So I say screw 'em . . . not literally of course!
I'm pretty sure they all have some kind of immaculately spread venereal disease that makes everything itch and 8-bit characters sexually appealing.
Friday, September 2, 2011
Taking the Fun Out of Fundamental
It has occurred to me that the most fundamentally, intractably, and aggressively religious among us don't understand life.
You know the ones.
They want to run your life. They want to tell you how to live. They want to tell you how evil you are and why you're going to go to hell. They don't believe in a separation of church and state unless it's someone else's church from their state.
Some of them want to hurt you.
They are distrustful of intellect, let alone intellectuals. They flat out hate science right up until they need it to save their lives.
They will tell you it's us against them. Of course the ones you're talking to are always the "us" in the equation no matter where on Earth you're standing.
I have realized these people don't understand life because they think they are going to live in one capacity or another forever.
It's awfully easy to be glib with someone else's life if you don't believe in death.
No matter your belief, try a little experiment - spend one day as though there is no heaven. Spend that day savoring the light in the present that only exists in that moment.
Try to have a little fun. Pass on the fundamentalism.
You know the ones.
They want to run your life. They want to tell you how to live. They want to tell you how evil you are and why you're going to go to hell. They don't believe in a separation of church and state unless it's someone else's church from their state.
Some of them want to hurt you.
They are distrustful of intellect, let alone intellectuals. They flat out hate science right up until they need it to save their lives.
They will tell you it's us against them. Of course the ones you're talking to are always the "us" in the equation no matter where on Earth you're standing.
I have realized these people don't understand life because they think they are going to live in one capacity or another forever.
It's awfully easy to be glib with someone else's life if you don't believe in death.
No matter your belief, try a little experiment - spend one day as though there is no heaven. Spend that day savoring the light in the present that only exists in that moment.
Try to have a little fun. Pass on the fundamentalism.
Tuesday, August 30, 2011
How To Raise Children - Pt.1
My wife and I have three children. They are perfect in every way and never do anything wrong except when they just won't shush when Daddy's watching his racing.
If and when any of you out there become pregnant, or your wives become pregnant, or you're adopting, kidnapping, or you're picking up a little one at one of Angelina Jolie's garage sales, people won't be able to resist offering you advice on your new progeny.
Most of this advice will be terrible, misguided, and in at least three States - illegal.
I will now do you a huge favor and cut through all the bullshit by boiling it down to one simple rule.
Your job as a parent is to not raise an asshole.
There. Simple. To the point. Don't you wish more people had followed that advice when you were a kid? Then there'd be fewer assholes to deal with. Everything you do with your kids should be informed by that simple litmus test.
"If I let my kids whine and I give into their demands, will this make them grow into an asshole?"
Yes. Don't let them whine excessively and make them eat their damn vegetables.
"If I don't get after them for hitting other kids will that make them grow into an asshole?"
Yes. If you don't make them stop hitting my kids, I will.
"If I don't love them enough or give them affection, emotionally alienating them, will that make them an asshole?"
Remember that douchebag/baguette you used to date that cheated on you? Yeah. 'Nuff said.
There you have it, the one simple rule to raising kids - pretty intuitive huh?
Joking aside, raising kids is more simple than it can sometimes look. Love the hell out of your kids, understand that they're the most important things in your life now, and bring them up to be the best versions of yourself and throw in a pinch of confidence to help them be the things that you wish you'd had the guts to be.
And don't let them be assholes.
If and when any of you out there become pregnant, or your wives become pregnant, or you're adopting, kidnapping, or you're picking up a little one at one of Angelina Jolie's garage sales, people won't be able to resist offering you advice on your new progeny.
Most of this advice will be terrible, misguided, and in at least three States - illegal.
I will now do you a huge favor and cut through all the bullshit by boiling it down to one simple rule.
Your job as a parent is to not raise an asshole.
There. Simple. To the point. Don't you wish more people had followed that advice when you were a kid? Then there'd be fewer assholes to deal with. Everything you do with your kids should be informed by that simple litmus test.
"If I let my kids whine and I give into their demands, will this make them grow into an asshole?"
Yes. Don't let them whine excessively and make them eat their damn vegetables.
"If I don't get after them for hitting other kids will that make them grow into an asshole?"
Yes. If you don't make them stop hitting my kids, I will.
"If I don't love them enough or give them affection, emotionally alienating them, will that make them an asshole?"
Remember that douchebag/baguette you used to date that cheated on you? Yeah. 'Nuff said.
There you have it, the one simple rule to raising kids - pretty intuitive huh?
Joking aside, raising kids is more simple than it can sometimes look. Love the hell out of your kids, understand that they're the most important things in your life now, and bring them up to be the best versions of yourself and throw in a pinch of confidence to help them be the things that you wish you'd had the guts to be.
And don't let them be assholes.
Sunday, August 28, 2011
Smart Ain't Stupid
I remember, albeit perhaps through rose colored glasses, when being an intellectual wasn't a liability for a politician. Shoot, I remember when having an intellect wasn't a liability.
We live in this incredibly dumbed down era, a time when even the basest of us have been elevated to the status of genius by "opinion polls" that ask people what they "believe" in, as though it has some bearing on whether or not it exists.
My favorite such poll was one on CNN.com that queried visitors as to whether or not they "believed" in evolution. Sadly, shockingly, and stupidly it was a split vote.
I'm going to lay some truth on the internet here:
I don't think it's okay that a large and vocal group ridicules and beats down science with one voice and then demands science saves their lives when sickness comes calling.
I don't think it's okay that news outlets offer anything other than the facts and as near an objective story as humanly possible.
I don't think it's okay to hate one's neighbor while demanding love and kindness for oneself.
A well known and well respected politician died recently here in Canada. His passing unified people in sadness, regret, and sympathy. Whether people agreed with his politics or not, citizens everywhere respected the man. He left a letter to Canadians that was both heart-felt and inspiring. His last words in his letter were:
Wise words from a wise man. Jack Layton wasn't my politician, and the NDP isn't my party, but I am certainly proud to have had my politics impacted by a man (and other men and women) who aren't afraid to be wise.
We live in this incredibly dumbed down era, a time when even the basest of us have been elevated to the status of genius by "opinion polls" that ask people what they "believe" in, as though it has some bearing on whether or not it exists.
My favorite such poll was one on CNN.com that queried visitors as to whether or not they "believed" in evolution. Sadly, shockingly, and stupidly it was a split vote.
I'm going to lay some truth on the internet here:
- Evolution is real
- Climate change is real
- Natural disasters don't occur because anyone is mad at you
- It's none of your business if two people who aren't you get it on
- We really need to stop wasting time on these subjects
I don't think it's okay that a large and vocal group ridicules and beats down science with one voice and then demands science saves their lives when sickness comes calling.
I don't think it's okay that news outlets offer anything other than the facts and as near an objective story as humanly possible.
I don't think it's okay to hate one's neighbor while demanding love and kindness for oneself.
A well known and well respected politician died recently here in Canada. His passing unified people in sadness, regret, and sympathy. Whether people agreed with his politics or not, citizens everywhere respected the man. He left a letter to Canadians that was both heart-felt and inspiring. His last words in his letter were:
- "My friends, love is better than anger. Hope is better than fear. Optimism is better than despair. So let us be loving, hopeful and optimistic. And we'll change the world." - Jack Layton
Wise words from a wise man. Jack Layton wasn't my politician, and the NDP isn't my party, but I am certainly proud to have had my politics impacted by a man (and other men and women) who aren't afraid to be wise.
Friday, August 19, 2011
The Following Things Are Not Real . . .
Ghosts
Paranormal Activities
Reincarnation
Astrology
Gemology
Crystology
Cosmology
Any Word That Ends In "Ology" (This includes Geology)
Intelligent Design
Transmogrification
Psychics
Head Cheese
A Cool Politician
Klingons
Zombies
Vampires
Werewolves
That Hair Appointment That Girl You Like Keeps Claiming To Have Every Time You Ask Her Out
Gremlins (Even The Cars)
Most of Holland
Wrestling (With the exception of the mud variety - that's as real as it gets)
Attractive Uggs
Hipsters
An Un-Delicious Animal
A Highly Educated Religious Zealot
A "Reasonable" Amount of Botox
Michele Bachmann's Penis
Paranormal Activities
Reincarnation
Astrology
Gemology
Crystology
Cosmology
Any Word That Ends In "Ology" (This includes Geology)
Intelligent Design
Transmogrification
Psychics
Head Cheese
A Cool Politician
Klingons
Zombies
Vampires
Werewolves
That Hair Appointment That Girl You Like Keeps Claiming To Have Every Time You Ask Her Out
Gremlins (Even The Cars)
Most of Holland
Wrestling (With the exception of the mud variety - that's as real as it gets)
Attractive Uggs
Hipsters
An Un-Delicious Animal
A Highly Educated Religious Zealot
A "Reasonable" Amount of Botox
Michele Bachmann's Penis
Tuesday, January 4, 2011
Pitchin' and Bitchin'
As the New Year cracks open like a ripe cantaloupe, I am committing to my new ethos - pitch, pitch, pitch. As a professional and largely employed actor for 23 years, what I really want to do is be a cliché. I love directing and producing and have long felt that is the place for me as I move forth into the next couple of decades.
So, that means pitching like crazy this year. The end goal before the 12th month of 2011 is to have sold a concept, show, or script. It’s interesting trying to make what is essentially a lateral move. Twenty three years of experience in a given industry is more often than not a big plus when trying to move through it, but it’s not always easy to convince those that need convincing of that.
Hopefully this year will be rife with meetings and schmoozing, wheeling and dealing.
So, that means pitching like crazy this year. The end goal before the 12th month of 2011 is to have sold a concept, show, or script. It’s interesting trying to make what is essentially a lateral move. Twenty three years of experience in a given industry is more often than not a big plus when trying to move through it, but it’s not always easy to convince those that need convincing of that.
Hopefully this year will be rife with meetings and schmoozing, wheeling and dealing.
Tuesday, October 5, 2010
Gaining A Year
It was my birthday this past Sunday, and I have obviously since gained another year. As per usual, this annual festivus is cause for some introspection, some reflection, and some cake. Having consumed the cake, humor me as I dispense with some conclusion born of said introspection and reflection.
Approaching the big day, a very good friend did as all good friends should do and gave me a hard time in regards to my impending aging (apparently it all happens at once). He asked when I would start lying about my age? I thought for the briefest of seconds (I find that's how I do my best work) and remarked that I never lie about my age, nor would I ever. You see, when I was 15, I was diagnosed with a very serious medical condition called autoimmune hepatitis. Which is, as anyone with a medical degree could easily discern from the title alone, a disease in which my immune system attacks my own body (autoimmunity), in this case my liver (hepat) and causes it to inflame (itis). After being ill for four and a half months, and receiving a diagnosis after a fair amount of jaundice and blood-letting at the very chilly hands of various phlebotomists, I was put on medication that suppressed my immune system and saved my life - medication that I am still on to this day. Rest assured, my intention isn't to get all droopy here, or depressive, or melodramatic, or even a hybrid combination of the three . . . droopresslodramatic. It's too point out a simple and long held belief of mine: age is a privilege denied to so many.
I will never lie about my age for the simple fact that if it weren't for my medication and the advances of science, I wouldn't be here right now. I'm proud of how old I am. I'm proud of the life I've lived. I'm proud of how much living I've been blessed to be able to cram into these 37 years. Furthermore, I resolve to pack as much living (or more) into my next 37. After all, life is for the living isn't it? It's this saying I think of when I read the more . . . shall we say dramatic . . . statuses on Facebook (or is that stati?). It's a common theme for me, I realize, but when it comes down to it I think people should focus on the good fortune that surrounds them when they tearfully lament the burning of toast, or the dropping of glass, or the whatever of whatever that makes them scrawl FML. Honestly? To say f--- one's life over something so trivial? I get it - it's hyperbole, but still - I think perspective is in short supply these days.
People will often ask online how I stay upbeat. Well, I'll tell you - it's this. It's everything I just wrote. I stay upbeat because I remember how lucky I am. Not just with family or career, in which I am incredible fortunate to be sure, but because I am here. Because I am here to spend time with my family, because I am here to have a career. My favorite thing to say when anyone seems frazzled, angry, overwhelmed, over-dramatic, or overtaxed is: "You are not in the Darfur, and you are not currently on fire. Almost everything else we can deal with". I realize it's an oversimplification, but the point is there. I wrote in an earlier post that most of what we get so wrapped up in is make believe anyway, so try not to lose yourself in it. This isn't to say I'm not guilty of getting wrapped up in the pseudo-importance of a moment either, but I try to regain focus by thinking about how lucky I really am. There are people in this world who are literally eating dirt. My life is just fine. Help the people with the dirt.
As I've also written on here before, because of my medical condition, I have come to value and prize life over everything. Not just the life itself mind you, but also the quality of that life. No matter what you believe spiritually, we can all agree on this - you get one life. One tangible, seeable, proveable life (not all of those words are real). On that count we are all of us alike. Having said that to take someone's life, or quality of life over a belief is about the the worst thing one can do. Right now there are a lot of young men and women taking their own lives over other people's beliefs and the bullying that comes along with it. Telling someone that they aren't natural or right because they don't live up to your idea of what is "right" or other is more than offensive, it's tantamount to bigotry. Unfortunately it is also becoming State sanctioned bigotry when the lawmakers hide behind the veil of Propositions and ballots. A government's job is to administer the workings of the country and serve and protect its citizens - apparently sometimes from other citizens. I met a young man in Tampa this year who approached me for an autograph. He wore a shirt that read, "Not Gay, But Supportive". He couldn't have been more that 12. I marveled at this young man and then wrote in his program, "The World needs more kids like you" before signing it. Indeed we do.
Well, that's it. Another terribly earnest blog post. It started with birthday cake and sunshine and became political. I am beginning to think that I can't actually write anything mirthful! In the end it boils down to this: live your life to the fullest and let others do the same - heck, try to help others live theirs if you get the chance! I certainly appreciated all of the birthday wishes from all my friends - Facebook and IRL! So next time you get down about gaining another year on Father Time, remember what I wrote here and look at how lucky you really are.
Approaching the big day, a very good friend did as all good friends should do and gave me a hard time in regards to my impending aging (apparently it all happens at once). He asked when I would start lying about my age? I thought for the briefest of seconds (I find that's how I do my best work) and remarked that I never lie about my age, nor would I ever. You see, when I was 15, I was diagnosed with a very serious medical condition called autoimmune hepatitis. Which is, as anyone with a medical degree could easily discern from the title alone, a disease in which my immune system attacks my own body (autoimmunity), in this case my liver (hepat) and causes it to inflame (itis). After being ill for four and a half months, and receiving a diagnosis after a fair amount of jaundice and blood-letting at the very chilly hands of various phlebotomists, I was put on medication that suppressed my immune system and saved my life - medication that I am still on to this day. Rest assured, my intention isn't to get all droopy here, or depressive, or melodramatic, or even a hybrid combination of the three . . . droopresslodramatic. It's too point out a simple and long held belief of mine: age is a privilege denied to so many.
I will never lie about my age for the simple fact that if it weren't for my medication and the advances of science, I wouldn't be here right now. I'm proud of how old I am. I'm proud of the life I've lived. I'm proud of how much living I've been blessed to be able to cram into these 37 years. Furthermore, I resolve to pack as much living (or more) into my next 37. After all, life is for the living isn't it? It's this saying I think of when I read the more . . . shall we say dramatic . . . statuses on Facebook (or is that stati?). It's a common theme for me, I realize, but when it comes down to it I think people should focus on the good fortune that surrounds them when they tearfully lament the burning of toast, or the dropping of glass, or the whatever of whatever that makes them scrawl FML. Honestly? To say f--- one's life over something so trivial? I get it - it's hyperbole, but still - I think perspective is in short supply these days.
People will often ask online how I stay upbeat. Well, I'll tell you - it's this. It's everything I just wrote. I stay upbeat because I remember how lucky I am. Not just with family or career, in which I am incredible fortunate to be sure, but because I am here. Because I am here to spend time with my family, because I am here to have a career. My favorite thing to say when anyone seems frazzled, angry, overwhelmed, over-dramatic, or overtaxed is: "You are not in the Darfur, and you are not currently on fire. Almost everything else we can deal with". I realize it's an oversimplification, but the point is there. I wrote in an earlier post that most of what we get so wrapped up in is make believe anyway, so try not to lose yourself in it. This isn't to say I'm not guilty of getting wrapped up in the pseudo-importance of a moment either, but I try to regain focus by thinking about how lucky I really am. There are people in this world who are literally eating dirt. My life is just fine. Help the people with the dirt.
As I've also written on here before, because of my medical condition, I have come to value and prize life over everything. Not just the life itself mind you, but also the quality of that life. No matter what you believe spiritually, we can all agree on this - you get one life. One tangible, seeable, proveable life (not all of those words are real). On that count we are all of us alike. Having said that to take someone's life, or quality of life over a belief is about the the worst thing one can do. Right now there are a lot of young men and women taking their own lives over other people's beliefs and the bullying that comes along with it. Telling someone that they aren't natural or right because they don't live up to your idea of what is "right" or other is more than offensive, it's tantamount to bigotry. Unfortunately it is also becoming State sanctioned bigotry when the lawmakers hide behind the veil of Propositions and ballots. A government's job is to administer the workings of the country and serve and protect its citizens - apparently sometimes from other citizens. I met a young man in Tampa this year who approached me for an autograph. He wore a shirt that read, "Not Gay, But Supportive". He couldn't have been more that 12. I marveled at this young man and then wrote in his program, "The World needs more kids like you" before signing it. Indeed we do.
Well, that's it. Another terribly earnest blog post. It started with birthday cake and sunshine and became political. I am beginning to think that I can't actually write anything mirthful! In the end it boils down to this: live your life to the fullest and let others do the same - heck, try to help others live theirs if you get the chance! I certainly appreciated all of the birthday wishes from all my friends - Facebook and IRL! So next time you get down about gaining another year on Father Time, remember what I wrote here and look at how lucky you really are.
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