A new video I just finished for my friends’ band.Debut video for the band Lazertag, shot while on a “tour” to South-By-Southwest. A great song from a new band in San Francisco, and a video to encompass the beauty of the song and the traveling performance experience.
Find more About Lazertag at: http://www.myspace.com/lazertagmusic
So, recently I have begun to talk to strangers. This is something that my Mom has done throughout my entire existence. It is possible for her to start a conversation with anyone, no matter when or where, the “gift of gab” is apparent. Throughout much of my childhood I had seen this as strange, as the constant guiding through elementary education explicitly enforced the “Don’t talk to strangers,” mentality into my subconscious. The social existence of me and others was to be kept separate, until a shared experience were to bring us together.
Throughout my life, this has only become more evident through the advent of personal electronics. No matter where you go now, there is a high likelihood that those who surround you will be talking or listening to some sort of device. I spent many days in San Francisco huddled closely by strangers on a MUNI train or bus never to utter a word, as I and my neighbor would both isolate ourselves into the seclusion of our IPODs. Pretending to be mesmerized by my music, I would make sure to divert my attention and refrain from any type of connection. Why though, are we so afraid to connect with others?
We walk on the street, making sure to avoid eye contact and to give enough personal space. We stand two feet away from each-other as we fill drinks at a restaurant. We keep sunglasses on our face while inside. We start conversations on the phone while approaching a register in a store or restaurant. We listen to our IPOD as often as possible, or play games on our phones. All just to guarantee not to make any connection with the other people who surround us.
I have begun to truly admire my Mother’s ability to approach anyone, as she welcomes any type of connection. It may seem strange at first when she wanders off to some unknown group of people, until you begin to see the smiles upon their faces. They honestly welcome her into their space, and within minutes it could seem as though she had known them her whole life. It is possible to feel the energy of the surroundings change as she formulates a connection not just between her and them, but between our group and their’s.
I am trying to hone some of my Mother’s skill within myself. The past couple of days, I have tried to remain open to the possibility of talking to those around me. At first it was scary to begin a conversation with a stranger; never knowing their personality or way of thought. With each interaction though, I have begun to feel more comfort in the process.
I have begun mostly by talking to the checkout people and workers of those institutions which I visit within a day. Within the first moment of interaction, they quite often are pleasantly shocked to be recognized. How often we get caught up in the routine of a transaction and forget about those who stand in front of us. One transaction after another the employee can fall into a routine of labor, and feel just as a cog in a machine. With a little conversation, it allows them to break from the monotony and remember life outside of work. I have been sincerely thanked by a concession employee at the movie theater this week, for asking him how his day has been and truly listening to his response. Within these interactions I also benefit, as I am able to see the employees’ true personalities. In a time when so many transactions are automated and pressing a few buttons is the norm, it is nice to truly use the possibility of interacting with another person.
Another place where I have felt the benefit of conversation with strangers is within elevators. Why do we allow that uncomfortable silence to happen? Any conversation is easy in an elevator, as it is as simple as stating the obvious awkwardness inherent with elevators or usually some sort of observational recognition. More often than not, the other person is just as desperate to not fall victim to the silence and will work to fill the short ride with some chatter. Within my short time breaking the elevator silence, I have met numerous people within my apartment complex. In a large complex, each time I ride I have the opportunity of meeting someone new.
There is so much that can be learned from those around us, and so many situations which can be brightened up by building relationships. I am not saying that I will stop everyone who walks by me on the street, but when an opportunity is available I am going to try to be open to it. My belief is that with a welcoming approach, most people will enjoy breaking societal silences and be glad to meet a new person. A majority of the day we are bored as we follow routine, and a new interaction can be a refreshing way to break the brain out of auto-pilot. Give it a chance…people aren’t so bad.
-B
So as I stated in my last post and as witnessed by skimming the dates next to my postings, recently my rants have been fewer and far between. To remedy this situation, I wish to keep writing as often as possible, telling myself that writing even the simplistic emotions of the day will be better than writing nothing. So here it begins, the thoughts of the day.
I downloaded the cd Volume One, by She & Him, which features the vocals of Zooey Deschanel and instrumentation by M. Ward in a debut recording. Ever since I first witnessed her performance in All the Real Girls, I have had a crush on the cute and innocently adorable Zooey Deschanel. Viewing that film at my college in a small intimate screening with the director present, I had no idea what to expect. All I knew was the director’s previous film, and off reputation was ready for whatever he had to offer. The film was good, and all though it didn’t compare to the director’s other film, it was unavoidable to fall in love with Zooey alongside the main character in the film. Her performance was completely natural, and her expressive eyes held a gentle gleam that could encompass all of her emotions.
Not much later within the film Elf, Zooey first premiered her singing voice, and with every word of “Baby It’s Cold Outside” I found myself questioning if it was truly her who I was hearing. There was an old Billie Holiday like jazz sound to her voice, it had a strong depth to it but always remained soft and welcoming. With a little deliberation, I was forced to recognize that the voice I was hearing was without a doubt rooted within the same young and innocent soul I was watching on the screen. Now I was smitten on a whole new level, and knew that in time I would hear that voice again.
Recently, I ended up seeing her in concert where she performed two songs as part of an ensemble concert in a storytellers type format. There were many established musicians there, and at this point Zooey had nothing recorded beyond her appearance in Elf. As she stepped on stage her nerves were evident, but as her voice began to emanate throughout the hall the tones got stronger with every beat. The classic old school voice reverberated through me as I began to picture her in black and white, a glimmering sequence dress, and whiffs of smoke filling the room. In a musical period where so much is over produced and tweaked, watching her and M. Ward as the only two on stage deliver so much emotion, was an excitingly refreshing experience.
What I hoped from the cd was a good format to display this powerful voice, and songs which were not too over produced. The cd delivered on every level. Throughout the cd Zooey’s voice and songs vary between a Patsy Cline type country twang and a lovingly tone reminiscent of the Doo Wop style of the 50s with the Wall of Sound orchestration. I’m not a music reviewer, so I can’t get too complex in my review, though I can say that every song is a very comforting sound which is easy to welcome into your musical collection through its fun sound which never loses its natural feeling. The tone feels as though it is rooted with the sounds of many of the musicians to which they feel an ultimate respect, and that I should have received the music on a record burned in acetate instead of downloaded straight to my mp3 player. I have no idea how many of the songs are covers, except for a few obvious ones at the end. What I know is that, throughout each song I never lose the warm feeling from hearing her voice and as a debut it showcases her vocal ranges to a good variety.
I know that with the windows open on a nice sunny day, there is nothing that could keep me from smiling while listening to this record. Times have changed, and music these days often over use loops and hooks to drill lyrics into your subconcious without worry of any emotion behind the music. In this day and age technology has allowed for anyone to go into a record studio and have their voice manipulated into the correct tones, but through all the tinkering the sounds get so clean that many of the emotions disappear. I feel that a record like this allows for a rawness to the overall production, understanding that leaving a natural feel to the performance relays to the listener the true ability and emotional dedication of the artists.
I wish I could say that I will let the needle wear thin listening to the record, but instead I shall play it on repeat a few times through my samsung yp-t9 mp3 player. After writing this, what I really have come to understand is that I wish I could make the connections and references within all the musical stylings of the songs. I enjoy music, and even took a few musical history classes in college, but no matter what I am still a very casual listener. So in the end, I recommend the cd.
This was supposed to be much more simplistic and concise. My goal for future daily thought postings is to be just quick blurbs.
-B
I haven’t written for awhile, and in response have allowed myself to continuously feel guilty about my fear of returning to the world of published emotions. Constantly, I have allowed myself to fall under the belief that I have had nothing worthwhile to speak of. As my struggle with my job ended, and the tranquility of unemployment checks became a reality; I settled in silence.
As work was no longer a morning obligation, my days began late and at times were extremely fulfilling through activities of repose. As I went through unemployed phases of creative exploration within the city and healthful trainings to ready myself for a race to which I am ill-suited; I could not see a desired end in sight for my days of independence. My unemployment was not much to live on, but was not that much different from my days of scraping and lifting to which I have learned to make do. While the checks could keep me going for months and months, I allowed work to become a thing of the past. Now though, I know it is time to return to the workplace. I’ll admit that the decision has been advanced through an upcoming freeze in my unemployment funds, but that just became the final exclamation of the need to return to work.
How weird it has been not being held by a regimented system, or ordained way of life. The nearest it has felt is to the days of summer, but even then I had my parents around to watch over me. As a kid, I always imagined my independence leading to a television that held free pay-per-view with the Spice channel readied without interference, and beers and women constantly abound. In reality, my freedom has proven to be much more subdued, as I allowed myself to: travel, make my own films, learn improv acting, hike, go to plays, watch a lot of movies, and catch up on some reading. I actually spent a constant amount of time, going to the library. Somehow with time, my Utopian image of liberty has replaced beer with books and the Spice channel most often with old 80s movies on DVD (a craving for childhood reminiscence struck).
Considering this was the first time in my life that I was completely on my own, I haven’t been quite sure how to feel about it. Often, I find myself longing for some sort of structure. It is not like I have been begging for something to fill up my days completely, or to have a boss looking over my shoulder. I think what I have craved most is the knowledge that I know what I want professionally, and am definitely working towards something.
After a couple of years working in the film industry, it has been increasingly difficult to see where I will be most happy. I began with the naive joy of falling into production and having the film geek joys of being there for everything that ends up on screen. After the first film that I worked on, watching it play out like a scrapbook on screen was an amazing feeling…and to have my name appear in the credits was what felt like the beginnings of achieving my childhood dreams. After a few films though, I began to notice that the many hours left me no social life outside of work. For me, this only meant some missed nights out drinking with friends and the hope for some weekend fling. What I began to notice though, is that for those who had been crewing for years it meant the complete separation from their families. I’ll never forget sitting down in a restaurant with a field producer at lunch, when his daughter who he hadn’t seen in months called. When their conversation ended, he looked towards the rest of the table and told us that his daughter had just called him the “Worst Dad Ever.” The producer uttered the words and tried to laugh it off, but it was clear that he was hurt by this interaction and his laughs were merely there to make us feel calmed by his reaction. In fits of argument and anger this is a possible out lash of a teenager towards a parent, but this was not guided towards his actions; but rather towards his inactions to which he had no control. Living a life based on freelance work and travel, he was forced to follow the work no matter where it took him and for however long it may last. I could never picture myself in that position.
For the past couple of months, I have allowed myself to procrastinate my job search in relation to my unclear notions of which career path I shall follow. I would love to say that this job search has been delayed because of my extreme joys at an independent lifestyle, but in reality I believe it has been mostly a fear at recognizing where I would have an opportunity to work and if that is truly what I would desire to do. My past couple years of work and schooling has led me most recognizably towards the production field, but at this point my heart only wants to work on production when it is creatively rewarding to me through independent projects. As far as a daily source of income, I wish for a position which provides a normal schedule and an ability to gain knowledge of another aspect of filmmaking; which has a creative outlet that I may follow into a career path as I continue to work on my own side projects during my off hours. For most employers, they are bound to view my resume as someone who is only suited for the production side. Through all my desires to have a creative career, I have only readied my resume and self to the position of a manual laborer.
My goal now is to show employers that I am more than a manual laborer, and no longer shall my skill set solely be based upon my ability to lift objects heavier than 50lbs and to follow orders well. For me to get over the label of manual laborer, I must understand that I am capable and worth much more than that. I shall impart on others a strong sense of worth, through a full understanding of my creative potential and intellectual essence. Long have the days been, that I have been but a lemming in the workplace. Time has guided me back into the fray of the employed, and what I shall remember most is that the labels on my resume shall not define me. Although I have followed a certain path of professional development within the production side of filmmaking, I am hopeful that I will prove myself beyond those past positions and that it is possible for me to understand and project my true values.
-B
A new trial at fame and fortune through ketchup.
I Hope You Enjoy!
Eat, Pray, Love by Elizabeth Gilbert. A Best Seller. One Woman’s Search for Everything Across Italy, India and Indonesia.
READ IT!
As I’ve mentioned in previous posts, the most important path to joy seems to be finding the ability to live in the present. Worrying about what is to happen in the future, what may happen, and what already has happened only acts to keep us out of touch with our current situation and the desires present within us. The only time that matters is now. All the planning for future joy, will be to no avail; if at the moment you can’t allow yourself the time to sit in the present and search within for the joy which currently awaits your acceptance .
For so long I have wished upon stars, and waited for my day to come. From the day my Grandma taught me, “I wish I may, I wish I might; upon the first star I see tonight,” I have used it without fruition. I have sat waiting for my train to come in, thinking that the future is where all my dreams will be offered to me. Always, I was looking to the future; as I constantly followed the belief that eventual financial and romantic success will lead me to joy. This year, I have begun to learn that the joy I so often wished upon stars for, is available daily and is offered to me consistently. As I offer time to myself, through meditation and through personal outings, I leave the worries of past mis-haps and future goals behind. The more quiet I can make my mind, the clearer its’ present desires are offered and fulfilled.
What I have noticed within my own learnings, is that most of the thoughts I had running through my mind dealt with situations which were possibly going to arise, or already had. I allowed myself to create unnecessary anxiety, as everything I was worrying of was in the realm of the uncontrollable. The future is to be dealt with only in the presently motivated necessity, where organizational tasks can be accomplished but not dwelt upon.
It is easy to allow the existence of future tasks to become a procrastinated exhibition of your “responsibilities” and worth. Not dealing with something that can be immediately dealt with, as to allow yourself the ability to declare the almighty phrase of, “I am just so swamped, I can’t..”. This phrase becomes an excuse to avoid opportunities you may fear or changes in your routine, and also allows you to feel like there is meaning to your existence as you become a dependent figure in the completion of a variable amount of tasks. We present our amassed levels of responsibilities to others as proof of our worth, and seek their acceptance and approval of our daily doings as being a worthwhile attribute to the overall well-being of the society. We tell ourselves that if I were not here, the tasks would never be completed; and hope others to see the same.
We are not here to complete tasks. We are here to take advantage of all the moments we have, and fulfill all of our innermost desires. Although I write with conviction and authority on this subject matter, the fact is that I am not where I want to be. The concept is so simple that it becomes baffling to accept. The main goal is just to let go to the now, and act upon pure intuition; not being dependent on acceptance or self-judgment. So many barriers have been built based upon societal judgment and an endless supply of self-imposed rules and restrictions.
Since early childhood, we are raised to seek approval and acceptance through a system of grades, treats, and eventually through promotions and raises. I am working to rid myself of my mind’s controlling nature of real-time deliberation, as it tries to protect me from the possible humiliation of failed social interactions. I want to stop worrying about what people may think about what I do, and just do it.
As a tool to direct me into a intuitive reality, I have begun an improv acting class. My goal is not to become the next John Belushi, as my comedy and acting skills are not to be celebrated. Through improv, I hope to take steps towards removing the moments of deliberation, in which I afford my mind the time to question its desires and the affects of my possible actions. On stage, any moment of deliberation kills the pace of the scene and the necessary conviction to sell the idea to the audience. Every action must not only be decided within a split second, but must be stated confidently with an infecting energy. So far, I am not very good at it and often mess up. Through just two classes, I have already felt myself begin to gain a comfort in putting myself out there with the opportunity of failure constantly present.
From every mistake, I am faced with the reality that it is just one moment which will pass by; and as it does, I recognize that I have survived. Every step towards actualizing my full present day potential is a step forward, and I am beginning to welcome failure as a necessary stage in my evolution. I hope for this lesson to lead me through potential social situations and job opportunities, as I allow myself to be put in situations where failure is possible. I shall not let the fear of failure stop me from acting upon the desires, which lead me towards opportunities of pleasure. Fear grows stronger with every second of thought that it is offered. Act quickly and intuitively, or it is likely you will not act at all.
As I have allotted time for myself, the greatest thing that I have recognized is my need to stop thinking. I have stopped to listen to my mind, only to have it tell me to stop listening to it and begin listening to my heart. The mind is like an attention crazed child, desperately seeking attention while never being fulfilled. First, the inner mental child may crave an ice cream which momentarily relieves when received, but very quickly will be replaced with an all new desire; such as a toy. Through rewarding the cravings you fulfill the mind’s desire to be recognized, but while always craving recognition a new desire will surface immediately. The desires’ of the heart long to lead you towards recognizing your full potential, and wish for you to gain understanding and experience as your true self. The heart doesn’t speak as often as the mind, and it is very necessary to work on clearing the mind to be able to hear what the heart has to say. To stop wishing upon the future, we must learn to live in our present and become the beings we are meant to be; beings who act intuitively upon our true desires and strive for the joy which emanates from the knowing of our true self.
-B
So, this is a video I just made after I got laid off from my job. Seeing the uniform shirts remain in my closet, I realized that there was no choice but to burn them. This was not like the end of a school year desire to burn homework, as that is truly just based on a feeling of rebellion. This act was to tell myself that this stage is over, and that I can be worth more than an improperly fitting menial uniform employment existence. This journey was meant to clear myself of the negative associations, and allow a new period to begin where my self-worth and joy were the most important aspects of my life.
I hope you enjoy it and recommend allowing it to load first. I couldn’t get it embedded for some reason, so click below or view on my sidebar under “A New Beginning.”
I have started to question my manhood. I have not decided to question my level of manhood based on my desire to be with women, my muscular strength, or my overall level of testosterone; as all of those factors except for muscular strength I feel fairly confident. No, this questioning has arisen as a result of me viewing a pair of boots on a man the other day, and wondering if that was ever an option available to me. What does it take to pull off a pair of boots in all seriousness?
When I have imagined myself in cowboy boots, it has been in a John Wayne sort of representation. My visualization consists of a gun holster strapped to my hip and crushing a cigarette beneath my leather bound pointed toes, as I confidently stand in the hardened sunlight opposing my silhouetted next victim. A gold sheriff’s badge bounces rippled streaks of reflected sunlight upon the ground in front of me. My woman stands by my side showing not an ounce of fear, knowing the inevitable outcome her smile flares sunlight off of her glistening white teeth in my direction. With ease my hand glides to my gun, a sub-conscious automation pulls the trigger and the bullet screams through the dry air and strikes my victim in the chest; his feet fall out from beneath him, and a cloud of dust circulates in the air as he strikes the hardened ground. Blood spilling from the wound it continues to pool atop the dry soil, as he is left gasping for his last breath upon the barren road. Heroic responsibilities finished, I stroll through the pebbled road crunching my way towards the saloon. I make my way up the stairs to the saloon, with the hammering of my heels announcing my arrival. Busting my way through the saloon doors they swing creakingly back and forth, and the once bustling bar silences upon my arrival with a cumulative fearful inhalation of breath. As I relax to an awaiting glass of whiskey, I recognize this as just another day at work.
That is how my imagined Utopian relation to cowboy boots plays out. In the real world, I feel as though instead of representing my masculine strengths and heroic capabilities, they would act more like an indicator of my masculine faults. I picture them more as a juxtaposition of character within my style, than as an attributing element. I am not looking to completely makeover my entire stylistic existence, replacing my t-shirts with button up flannel and covering my head with a cowboy hat. All I was thinking, is trying to find a way to be able to supplement my appearance with the crunching and hammering walk of cowboy boots.
My desire would be, that the supplemented boots would allow me to walk through the streets and into a bar feeling as though I was passing through the creaking saloon doors. Although the sound of The Killers music would be reverberating within the walls, I would only hear the inhalation of breath respecting my entrance and masculine nature. An intimidating and confident power, emanating with every hammering step. In reality though, I think that after leaving the comfort of my Reebok Pumps for the pointy and tight boots, my walk would be comparable to that of a hobbling puppy who had recently hurt its paw. With my hobbled walk and overly smiley face, the tighter clothing emblazoned with artsy images would simply seal the irrational existence of the boots and the raw natural power that they exude.
The man I saw the other day, wore the boots along with the flannel I spoke of before and whitewashed jeans. In this day and age, that is where it seems that the boots belong. As it is not completely necessary for that man to ride a horse to the bar, he damn well better have drove a pickup truck there. For me in my pearl white Infiniti I30 and my tight artsy clothing, the boots seem as though they would be better left in the trunk. Maybe if I find a cheap pair at a thrift store or swap meet, I’ll buy them under the guise of a possible Halloween costume. No matter what, a good pair of cowboy boots and a toy gun could still be empowering enough fun for a simple man like me to make them worth the ownership.
-B
Today my elimination from Panavision occurred, as my head which I so firmly placed upon the chopping block felt the cold slice of the guillotine’s razor sharp blade. The eventuality of a lay off was obviously not a surprise, as my words had pleaded for the possibility to make it so; though, today the action itself still struck me with a blind sighted collision and tossed me around like an American Gladiator within the “Gladiator Arena.” For today, I began the day as a normal employee who saw glimpses of his possible future through e-mail notifications of job offerings and a renewal of my substitute teaching credential, seeing them solely as mere possibilities to explore further throughout the oncoming month. Now, I see them as signs for what was to come. For in the morning, I thought my day was to be an un-eventful cyclic repetition of days past…that was not to be the case. Within my first hour at work, I was called by my boss to the back area of the building where we are currently involved in an inventory project. I glided towards him ready to lift and clean whatever I was to be instructed upon, but instead he began walking me away from the room.
Within the first moment of connection with my boss’s eyes and his silent direction from the original destination, the overwhelmingly apparent aura was of a somber nature. As if in a planned out dolly move on a film set, or a well blocked actor’s choreography we flowed into the Human Resources department and sat within laid out chairs in an office where I was the only one who seemed not to know what was coming. I admit there was a slight inclination of what was to take place, but my previous “meeting” on Friday left me with a month notice and no guarantee of a layoff as a true possibility. Now, only three days after my trial at a two week notice could it possibly happen? All I can say is yes, it was possible (maybe with a little assistance of the power of the internet) to speed up the process of a layoff. I was informed to return to work and not speak of what had just occurred, until lunch time when I was to leave the building for the final time.
My walk back to my department was a bittersweet jambalaya of emotions, as the reality sunk in that I was not prepared emotionally for the end. I was happy to eventually exit with a severance check in hand and un-employment possibilities, but the reality of a $200 a week un-employment check and no job to fall into had struck me…not to mention the most straining necessity of saying goodbyes to the many amazing people I had met within my time at Panavision. Fear, happiness, relief, sadness, and shock encompassed every step I had taken through the linoleum covered floors and insane asylum white walls. I eventually reached my station where I was to remain silent about what had happened and the inevitable final walk out the doors, which would represent the beginning of my new journey.
Scrubbing case after case and going through various products I gazed upon my co-workers longing to tell them, and concurrently admiring their personalities and the relationships I had made with them. Through all my troubles within the company, what kept me going in day-after-day was the people who surrounded me. For a building as stale as a hospital, the joking and compassionate nature of every co-worker allowed a spark of joy to remain kindled within my spirit. I long to keep the relationships alive, as I have accepted all of them as family within these trying times.
After hours of keeping my fate secretly within the confines of my ever anxious mind, it was time to divulge the reality upon those who I would be shortly saying my goodbyes. I had become comfortable with the understanding that I will find something better and more fulfilling, as I let my heart guide me to my next career move. What I was absolutely still not ready for, and may never have been ready for was having to face the shocked faces of my co-workers as I told them mere minutes before I was to be gone forever. I admit that I don’t cry much, and especially not in public; but as I began to utter the words I emotionally collapsed every time I saw the shock within their expressions. Eyes dampened, I went one by one trying to hold my composure and explain what had occurred. I wanted to make it clear that this was by choice, and not just another layoff which could be forced upon others. I hope no one else has to face a true lay off, as I cannot imagine being completely shocked by this event. I was lucky to know that this was to possibly be in my future, and that I was ready to move on…unlike the many who faced elimination without warning weeks ago.
After making it through my goodbyes, I allowed the title of co-workers to be removed from those who surrounded me. All my co-workers had truly been friends throughout my entire time in employment, but now as the sterile title of co-worker is removed they are to properly be labeled so.
I exited the building much later than I had anticipated, after waiting hours for Human Resources to be ready with my paperwork. Instead of exiting at lunch my true departure occurred at 6pm, but no matter the time the end had come…or shall I say my beginning (maybe cliche, but still true). I stepped into the parking lot, feeling the brisk night air caress my body as the still cleansed sky from rains previous passing filled my lungs; and with a long breath, I released the mass of disappointment and fear which had previously been fortified somewhere beneath my ribs. I then screamed a howl of joy, and as corny as it sounds it felt amazingly relieving and seemed to be an un-avoidable action. Once I stepped into my car and turned the key bringing life to the engine, I exited the parking lot allowing a new chapter to begin. I am excited to see what shall be written in the story of my life, as I know not what will come. I am confident that all will be for the better, and am happy with myself as I am beginning to find true solace in writing. Within these posts to come, I expect my life to be re-energized in some form; as I shall continue to trust my acts of intuition to lead me properly to my true destiny.
-B
PS. I also truly want to thank all who have approached me this week, and have found an interest in my rants. I started this merely as a place for me to practice my writing, and release that which had been lingering within my conscience. I admit that I too have hoped that some may find it entertaining, and possibly useful in some form. Through the discussions I have had this week, you have given me confidence to follow my intuition and write that which I feel needs to be expressed and not worry what is to be thought of it. I will continue to write, and hopefully get better as I do so.
I also forgot to mention, that I take donations. Ok, maybe I mentioned last time as well…but hey, I’m now un-employed and you can’t condemn a man for trying. (Seriously though, sidebar main page.)
