As this month has ticked by I’ve been increasingly aware of the date. Not because of any impending event or activity, but because it represents a moment for nostalgia. I’m thinking about May of 1991. Twenty years ago. When I graduated from High School.

As a seventeen year old senior, I remember thinking that I’d be thirty-seven at my twenty year reunion, and that was really old. There were two large errors in that assumption. First off, thirty-seven is far from old. And secondly, there’s no twenty-year high-school reunion on the horizon. Which brings me nicely to my point.

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My son has just now grasped his first two clear words… Dada, and Mama. Truth be told he’s said them both for a while, but in the last few weeks it has a lucid connection to the appropriate people. (“Dada” has been a blanket term for any male or picture of me for quite some time… now…it’s just used for me. A nice change). So it’s obvious that he can’t read yet. But I think his personal library is far larger than mine.

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Celebrity is one of the things I find fascinating and infuriating about our society. People who are our entertainment have now become our idols. It’s as if the court Jester ( a slave-like role in its day) has now become the champion of the kingdom.

And the phenomenon has turned the corner from people famous for doing something we love, to people who are famous for just being famous.

Which leads me to my recent irksome line of questioning:

What is Ashton Kutcher known for? Why is this guy famous?

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The minute I saw this news story I knew I’d found a blog entry. A strange mix of irony, tragedy, and sheer stupidity converging to create fantastic commentary on the strangeness of our society.

Here’s the short version: A 20 year old girl in Detroit has been put on probation at her job. Why? Well, she’s a waitress at Hooter’s and she’s getting a bit fat for her shiny orange shorts.

And this made the news. Redefining the “fluff piece”. Ah-hem.

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Life is a frustrating series of boundaries. I’ve always hated the things I can’t do, lack the talent to accomplish, or won’t find the access to attempt. And now, as a father, I will be forced into the role of “them”. I’m now part of the big, dark, unsupportive mass of people setting up the “don’t go near there” boundaries. So this has me thinking about how much the fences vary.

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You may think I picked that title to attract readers or I’ve chosen to exaggerate or speak in metaphor. However, I promise you this is entirely true.

I had an amazing week last week, shooting 6 Days on an independent feature production. The days were long and tiring, but really wonderful. And it was amazing to see how many ways a smartphone can be utilized in the constant melee that is production. Little did I know what lurked in the brain of this device.

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If approving a friend or following someone sounds like a typical day in front of your computer then you understand how ubiquitous social networking sites have become. In theory, we are all supposed to feel more connected. To never lose touch. To know what all our friends, favorite celebs, and those people we couldn’t stand in high school are doing with their time.

But I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again… we don’t live “in theory”, and in reality it strikes me quite differently. Click to continue »

Unless you live in a bunker with no internet or television, you know that Swine Flu is the hot topic and disease of the moment. And in this constant barrage of updates and headlines touting “pandemic” I’m struck again by America’s #1 creation. We used to lead the world cars, computers, electronics, and freedom, but now we lead in one area: Panic and Fear.

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I just helped my In-Laws move stuff from their mountain home outside Denver, Colorado back to their home base of Dallas, Texas. Our drive across Kansas and through Oklahoma was such a striking difference to my normal life that I felt like I’d been dropped into a carnival dunk tank on a cold day.

To put this into focus let me start by saying: I live in LA. I drive a Sports Car.
But for this trip: I drive a 20,000 pound diesel truck. Through Kansas.
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When I moved to Los Angeles I had my share of nay-sayers. Some folks in influential or mentor-type roles really questioned my thinking. I was 23 years old and “following a dream”. One in particular asked me “How long do you intend to do this?”

Wanting terms and conditions. A quantifiable plan. Milestones.

I responded “How long is a dream worth chasing?” That shut them up. They had no answer for that, and I don’t think they’d ever even thought of the question.

Now, thirteen years later I don’t have an answer for it either. How long is a dream worth chasing? I find that to be the lingering query of my existence. If forced to answer I would quickly say “as long as I have breath…”

But reality does dawn… even on us dreamers. Click to continue »