Independence is a virtue, especially in filmmaking. This is the ongoing tale of a Texan following the dream that chose him.

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Plight and Self Wallowing and the Future at Stake
December 18, 2007

Of late, I've found myself slipping deeper and deeper into the black hole of depression from being alone, homeless, and trapped in a small cell with no windows 24 hours a day with only brief leaves of absence for an occasional meal or shower. To make matters worse, it appears that the love seat that I call home will no longer be available to me in the very near future. My only firm option as of this moment; My car. My co-workers, who are of the utmost caliber of gentlemen are but a sad substitute of the companionship I crave with the woman I married and our dogs and cat. The Internet is my only connection to the rest of the world.

I'm living a life that studio myths are made of. Residing in a bare-walled production office on the Sony Pictures Studios lot in Culver City. I shower in a men's room on the far side of the lot which, mercifully, has a lock on the door. There, I have the most privacy of the day. Even while in the office, whether during the workday, weekend, or even nights, there's the constant threat of intrusion by cleaning staff and security personnel. Sometime after 1am is when the lady comes to empty the trash, except for Tuesday nights, when she comes early around 10pm. That's my "go to bed early" night, since I know I won't be aroused from my sleep when she comes charging in like a herd of buffalo to retrieve the garbage. Her eyesight must be horrible, too, because she never fails to illuminate the office with the full load of ceiling-mounted track lighting, of which there are two independent systems, both capable of dimming. The alarm clock sounds at 7:30am, which is when I SHOULD get up and do a little exercise. But, when you're this depressed... there's just no option. Therefore, I snooze until around 8:30, when I finally get up and select the days clothes and load them into a small bag, topped with my ONE towel. Having slept in my attire from the day before, since I never know when I'm going to be visited throughout the night, I mount my trusty bike and head for the far side of the lot and hope that nobody is hogging the shower. If they are, I simply wait patiently for my turn, rain or shine. Despite the fact that there's a lock on the door, and no other restrictions which would force he to hurry, I try to be hasty. This bathroom belongs to the grip department... unofficially, of course. And, teamsters certainly have their ways. My bike comes in with me, which is a testament to the size of this shower room. It's large enough for a toilet, shower, a bike and room to walk around all of it. I shower quickly and leave.

I work.

I have lunch, hopefully off the lot, somewhere.

I go back to work.

I eat dinner, usually, at my desk. PB & J... Ham and Cheese.

Then it all starts over again.

Despite strenuous efforts to busy myself with the two or three weekly television shows I like, which I download off the Internet, or reading, or writing... I never do seem to feel the momentum of accomplishment. Rather, I feel like I'm slipping further into a dream, or coma, and from it there is no real return.

My goal in suffering these absurd conditions is to further my career in filmmaking. Yet, just today I sat paralyzed, watching a golden opportunity walk right past me and out the door. Amy Paschal, the head of Sony Pictures Studios was eating lunch at the same restaurant I had chosen, and I never even introduced myself. I panicked. I froze. What would I say? What would SHE say? Simply, I wasn't prepared. Will I ever be? Is becoming a producer like having children? Can anyone ever REALLY be prepared for the first one? I'll never know to where that meeting might have led. But, I'll always know what it meant to me. It has launched me into an abyss of doubt in myself. If I can't do something as simple as a casual introduction, then how am I supposed to broker multi-million dollar deals with studio executives that eat people like me for breakfast. My career... despite all the basic signs that it is moving forward... has stalled. Not because I'm being denied... but, because I'm no longer moving. I'm just standing here like an idiot, surrounded by my dreams which are just outside of arms reach. All I'd have to do to connect is take a step forward, and for once in my life, they would be within reach. I've never doubted I could do it, probably out of naiveté. Regardless, I see no boundaries, no hurdles, no chasms which separate me from my goals. I see only me in the way of myself.

As if that weren't enough drive a man into an asylum, there's the matter of my wife. Here now, we have the great dilemma. This amounts to the same argument of the chicken or the egg. Do I chuck it all to be with my wife now, or do I persevere and hope for a better life for us in the future. Naturally, both options have merit. What other variables must be considered? Sanity of man, sanity of woman? Children, of which we have none, save the pets? Stability, with which neither of us are familiar? Financial security, which is one goal of this mission? Happiness... Ah, there's he kicker. But, when does the happiness come into play? Now, or later? Could I learn to be happy later, having given up my dreams to be with the woman I love now? Isn't that an interesting question? The answer can only be found in answering another, equally important question... what else could I be happy doing? Me? Nothing. This is it. Filmmaking. There's no other career for me. Teaching came in second, but still nothing like this. So, then another mind twister... WHO'S happiness is more important? Hers, that's easy. But, when? Now or forever? That's not so easy. She'd be happy having me with her now. Later, though... she'd likely grow tired of my depression and irritability at having lost the one pursuit that fulfills me. No more happiness for her, unless of course she doesn't really love me anyway, in which case, this is all moot.

Alas, I'm stuck with this situation. A goal really. I must actively aspire to fulfill it. Otherwise, why am I here. I must take advantage or risk a lifetime of regret for the rest of my years. I didn't choose this business, it chose me. And, I must answer the call with one of equal volume, so as to say to the industry, "you chose wisely".

Being in this situation has taken it's toll, but it has not broken me. My wife is depressed as well, and that has put incredible pressure on me to succeed. The weight of my entire life is on my shoulders right now. My career, my marriage, my future family. All that I will become in this world will be determined by the outcome of THIS situation. Today, opportunity was lost. Tomorrow, it won't even see me coming.