Friday, July 14, 2017


According to my post count, this is number 1000.

Granted, there have been some posts I've taken down (at least one), and a couple that originally appeared on other blogs as chapters of co-writes that I've posted back-ups for here (probably four or five of those), but according to the post count, well...

This is #1000.

The first blog post I ever wrote was on a MySpace blog.  A friend of mine had written her own bio on her IMDb entry and it had irked me to no end, so I complained about it.  It was just over eleven years ago, and I was a helluva lot more curmudgeonly than I am now, despite my now being of a more appropriate curmudgeonly age.

And then it kind of went from there.  I was still young enough to be in my "I know everything" phase, and still arrogant enough to think that other people would want to read my opinions.  I am, admittedly, still pretty arrogant, but not so much that I delude myself into thinking other people care what I think.  Indeed, with most things, it's quite the opposite.  I actually try very hard to keep my mouth shut until someone asks me something directly.  Not that that always works.  I am human, after all.

In those early days of my blogging, I wrote wantonly of my opinions and wistfully of romantic notions of finding happiness.  I was in the death throes of a bad relationship (one that would wriggle with a weak, debilitating pulse for another three years or so) and in-between relationships that would provide with me with what I thought was motivation, but was really just misdirection.  But, slowly and surely, I started delving into my creative writing and - also slowly and surely - began sharing more and more of it on my blog.

By early 2009, one of my best online friends (we'll call him Joe) had discovered Blogger (then called Blogspot) and started a new blog there.  After following him for a few months, on June 21, 2009, I decided to give Blogger a try.  There had been a creative posting group called "Theme Thursday" (of which Joe was a part of), so I hesitantly gave it a go.  I didn't know it at the time, but I met one of my best in-person friends - Helen - during that Theme Thursday run, as well as several other Bloggers whom I have since met in person and keep in touch with to this day.

As all things tend to, however, the creative blogging community faded, and I lost touch with many of them.  Of the ones I kept in touch with, quite a few helped fund my first short film and a handful have become quite rabid supporters of my short film projects.  One, Megan, lives near me, and I've gotten to know her and her family (her son even house-sat for me during one of my overseas trips).  Another, Tom, I linked up with in Chicago and accompanied him to his home in Fort Wayne, Indiana.

Mortality, however, does not spare the virtual world, and another friend of mine - Tina - passed away a few years ago.  I hadn't learned about it for almost a year after her death, and my last messages to her with but a week or so before it.  Still, she was supportive of my creative endeavors, and her name is in the credits of my first film.  Others have died, of course, and still others have simply drifted away.  Happily, though, several are now Facebook friends, and while I may have not met all of them in person as of yet, the odds are strong that it will happen, particularly as I find myself traveling the world more and more frequently.

The absolute pinnacle of my blogging was in 2010.  I had hundreds of followers, posted on a schedule several times per week, even as I moved three times from late 2009 to late 2010 (including one rather large cross-country transition).

And then, in early 2011, I just lost it.  I can't remember exactly what happened, but it no doubt involved romantic notions of women who wanted nothing to do with those notions, and my world turned temporarily to shit.  I actually gave my blog to someone else (literally, gave it away) and faded to posted only a few times per month (mostly out of habit).

After wallowing in self-pity for few weeks, I got drunk one day, bought a plane ticket to Australia and - in April of 2011 - visited the country I would quickly fall in love with.  At the end of that month, I returned to the United States changed a bit, but still generally without direction.  I lost my gall bladder at the end of that year, and that's when everything changed.

Actually, now that I think about it... three things happened between 2009 and 2011 that changed everything.  In late 2009, before I left the sleepy North Carolina town I had been calling home, I ran into a woman I had a crush on back in 1995, and she inspired to get off my ass, ditch what had been making me angry, and go chase my fucking dreams.  In late 2010, I returned to Southern California - the region where I had grown up - and began to try to work out my career aspirations (to little avail, at least initially), which inadvertently resulted in my trip to Australia early the following year.  Then, in late 2011, my gall bladder got infected, blocked with stones, and pretty much ruptured, skyrocketing my productivity because, shit, I almost could've maybe possibly died.  And almost could've maybe possibly dying can motivate a motherfucker.

Long story short, 2012 to now has mostly been writing and producing short films and writing and editing feature screenplays.  And while things have generally been successful in that regard (an almost detour to Afghanistan in late 2012, notwithstanding), something had disappeared from who I was.  I no longer felt the wistful romantic urges that were once so very much a part of me.  On the flip side, I was also no longer easily angered.  Certainly, I don't miss the angry me, but I definitely miss the romantic me.  Indeed, during a short but intense relationship with a beautiful French actress in early 2012, there was almost no spark.  No... love?  Lust?  Anything?  I felt detached for almost the entire relationship, and I didn't know why.

(an ex-girlfriend would often say that you can only love as much as you can hate, and while I question her inspiration for such a statement, maybe she was onto something)

Anyway, I'm rambling now, but fast-forwarding to 2017, and I'm reading again.  I'm writing in significant amounts again.  I'm putting myself out there, both with the career and with new people.  The romantic in me is still very much absent, but I know he's in there somewhere.  I've lost thirty or so pounds since the end of 2016.  I eat better.  I exercise more.  I study more.  I'm strongly considering returning to school in 2018 or 2019 and earning my Masters and Doctorate.

I want to keep traveling.  I want to live in Australia.  I want to pay off all of my debts and take care of my parents.  I want to meet my beautiful, wonderful traveling companion.  I want the overbearing pragmatic me to give just a little leeway to the romantic me that just needs some room to breathe.

And I want to share with you what I'm doing.  Not because I think you should know what I think or feel.  Not because I think my life is anything to be envious of.  But because I want to share.  Read me if you like, ignore me if you prefer, but I'm going to put my life, my world, on these pages.  Not on a schedule, mind you.  Nor even with any guarantee of frequency.

But I enjoyed blogging when I did it, even at the end of 2010 when it had started feeling like a chore.  I don't keep secrets anymore.  The things I've done that were wicked, evil, or malicious are public to all who ask.  I have nothing to hide and no reason (nor will) to hide anything at all.

I am irreverent.  I am irrelevant.  But I am here, and I've been here for a helluva lot longer than 1000 blog posts.

Here's to another thousand.  And another thousand beyond that.

If you stick around, I hope you enjoy.  I hope you comment and ask me crazy, silly, and hard questions.  Call me out on my bullshit, please.  Let's discuss the things we disagree on.  Let's revel in our agreements.

On that note, pardon me while I revel in some homemade whiskey sours.

Tullamore D.E.W., bitches.

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