2012

Well 2012 is upon us. The last year of our lives. The year of prophecy, and of global destruction. Sounds like fun!

For me, I have a list (that keeps growing) of what 2012 will be and what it will hold.  It's a list that I'm going to keep to myself, at least for now.

Let's just say that 2012 is the year.

Means to an End

For a while now, I've been reading books on television writing.  Books on spec scripts, creating pilots, character development, etc. Yet every time I finish one of these books, I feel like I still need to read and learn more about writing, like I haven't yet figured out what I need to do or should be doing.

What I should be doing, if I want to be a writer, is write.  I shouldn't necessarily quit learning about the process, but I should quit only learning about the process, and not actually doing any of the process.  That's what I should be doing, if I want to be a writer.

There's an issue here, however.  I don't know that I want to be a writer.  I certainly don't feel like one.  I've been told by others that I should be a writer, or that I look like a writer (whatever that means!), but deep down inside, I don't really identify myself as a writer.

Really, I just see it as a means to an end.  I have this whiteboard full of ideas for creative projects.  Almost any idea could be developed into a film, a TV series, a novel, a comic strip or book, etc.  The problem is that they stay on that whiteboard and don't go anywhere.  Sometimes I try and develop an idea into something, such as Nut Jobs, a web comic about squirrels I created that has lasted all of six strips, and that hasn't been touched in over a year.  I created it because it was the only way that it was going to get made.  I don't consider myself an artist, and I'm pretty sure my high school and college art teachers would agree with this.  It's not my forte.

As for writing, it's not that I can't write per se, it's just that I feel like I have to follow a formula, and that I have to learn that formula, and do the process by following the steps.  It feels forced rather than desired, and that just seems wrong to me.  Maybe that's how it is for all writer's though.  Maybe it's like every other form of exercise, where you often dread doing it until you've done it, and then you realize how great it feels to have done it.  You can't wait to do it again tomorrow, even though you know that tomorrow you're going to dread doing it once again.

In a way, I'd love to just take that "Created by" title, and leave the "written by" title for those who actually want to be writers.  I just don't know if that's doable without having a few "written by"credits of my own though.

Do the means justify the end?

Getting Un-Stuck

At some point in my past, I picked up a very bad habit.  I learned to look at myself as being stuck in situations.  Stuck in the school or workplace, stuck in relationships, and stuck in accommodations.

I saw my jobs as things I couldn't leave for various reasons.  Maybe there was no one to replace me, and I'd feel like I was burdening the company to replace me.  Maybe I'd just negotiated a raise with benefits, and to leave would make it feel like I hadn't appreciated that.  Maybe I was afraid that to change jobs would mean a potentially drastic pay cut.

Leases and roommates kept me stuck in housing situations.  I didn't want to let anyone down, and I didn't want to leave anyone hanging.  It didn't keep me from wanting out though, so I trudged along until I figured out how to get unstuck.

In a way I guess I could say I've been fortunate that I've not really been stuck in too many relationships, whether romantic or platonic.  Some tricky ones took a bit of figuring out and distancing, and there were moments of feeling stuck in one relationship or another, but nothing long lasting.  I have friends however that have dealt much more with this problem, and as of yet have been unable to get themselves unstuck.  They will, eventually and hopefully.

Feeling stuck is something I do to myself.  No one else makes me feel like I'm stuck in a situation, only I do.  I was talking to a coworker about future goals, and my thought was that without training someone over a course of time to replace me, I'm the only one who can do my job.  She casually commented that I'm not irreplaceable, that there other people out there who can do my job, and probably do it better.  It was a comment that relaxed me, not because I want to be replaced or anything, but because it sort of melted that feeling of being stuck away.

Don't allow yourself to think of stuck, or you will be, but only by yourself.  If you need to get out of something, anything, you can.  It's very possible that someone will end up feeling hurt, and it may even be you, but isn't a little pain worth the freedom?  Feeling stuck is a negative emotion, and it's not going to benefit anyone in the long run.

Tucker's Treehouse

One of the things I consistently look for in life is a place of solitude, sort of like Superman's Fortress, only not so icy or secret.  I always want a place where I can go and just think or watch the world go by.

I had a couple of such spots at the summer camp I worked at in Michigan, and the Harbour Green Park in Vancouver is another one.  I never found a spot at Chapman, nor near any of the places I've lived in Orange County and LA.  The closest I've come to is the various walks I would take and to take to Starbucks and other coffee shops.

I was driving back from Orange County today when I realized where this desire for a place of solitude came from.  I was reflecting on life (as I often do when driving alone), and when I started thinking about my teenage years, I was reminded of my first spot.  We moved to Michigan when I was 11, and the house we moved to had a lot of trees.  Our previous house in Michigan had been somewhat tree deprived, so I loved climbing the trees in Michigan.  It wasn't long before my dad built me a treehouse in the tree next the house.  I guess I'd never thought about my dad being able to do that before then, as he was much more of an intellectual and white-collar.  But he built a rather sturdy and awesome treehouse, and taught me a lot in the process.  I had no idea what treated lumber was before this project, and I'm pretty sure I didn't know what chicken wire was, either.

So he built my treehouse, and I spent a LOT of time in it.  Often with friends, and often solo.  It was my spot.  My brother and his friends had the roof of the garage (counting my treehouse, we had three ways of getting onto the roof without a ladder), and I and my friends had my treehouse.

When I was 16, we moved to a house about 10 miles away, and I was now too old for a new treehouse, and with the ability to drive and attending boarding school, I spent far less time at home, so the need for such a spot was lessened.  I don't recall looking for a similar spot at that house, but I know that I can't think of anywhere on the property that would suffice.

I haven't really gone back to look at the old house where my treehouse was, but I do know that both the treehouse, and the tree that held it, are long gone.  I know I'll keep looking for my spot, and future spots to come, but nothing will compare to my treehouse of old.

I also know that if I have kids, especially if a boy, I will do everything I can to provide them a treehouse, just as my dad did for me.  Thanks for the treehouse Dad, and for instilling the desire to just get a way once in a while and enjoy life.

From Then Til Now

Whoops.  It's been a few months.  Sorry.  Here's what you've possibly missed.

On the 19th of November, I turned 29.  Last year of my 20s.  I spent the occasion with friends at a local favorite bar and just had a general good time.  The planning for the 30th has begun.  I'm looking forward to both the shindig, and the age.  It'll be good.

Thanksgiving was spent with family-friends.  Not blood related, but closer than mere friends.  It was good times, and I discovered I like brussels sprouts.  Who knew?

December provided me with two weeks vacation surrounding the holidays.  I spent those weeks in Michigan with my folks, and spent a lot of time with more family-friends.  Too often I forget how many great friends I have out there, and how much I wish I could see them more often.  Life these days seems to pass too quickly, and before I know it, years have flown by.

Christmas was low-key.  Spent it with my parents and original "other parents", the parents of one of my best friends growing up.  It used to be tradition that we spent Thanksgiving with them, but since I'm now in California, and my parents in Tennessee, the tradition hasn't been observed.  So, this year we did it for Christmas.  It was really nice, and again, made me wish we could do it more often.

Sadly my brother and his wife weren't able to join us in the frozen north (which was occasionally rather warm), and they were missed.  I can only recall one other Christmas that wasn't spent as a family, and it was a Christmas I spent in California without them, although I honestly can't remember why I wasn't there.  Strange.

January was New Year's, which was low key with more friends.  The mellowness was nice, although I think I expected a more rowdy engagement.  Not a disappointment though.  I worked a lot, and took a long weekend in the middle of the month to make up for it, and headed up to the bay area to see friends I hadn't seen in a while.  One of them works at Pixar, and so I got to meet up with her for lunch and a small tour of the main building.  Seemed like a fun place to work.

We're into February, and I've been working a lot still, though not as much as January.  I've been doing some new functions at work, on top of my old ones, and it's kept me very busy, very scatterbrained, and very "moody" as my co-workers like to say.  I prefer to call it stress and pressure and whatnot, but it is what it is.  I often feel like I have too many hats, but have no way of passing any off, so I just try and keep a few on the hat rack and not wear them all at once.

And that's where we are now.  Boring, I know, but maybe that's why I've waited so long to update.  Perhaps I can get back to more of a normal schedule and actually post on topics of interest.

Clutter

A common theme between home, work, and pretty much everywhere I make a base for myself is clutter.  I have a knack of putting things in places they don't belong, mainly because I've never taken the time to create a place for everything.  I have sentimental knick-knacks next to computer parts and repair tools and office supplies.  I have gifts for people I meant to give them months ago next to blank CDs, DVDs, and a flashlight.  I have a rack of MiniDV tapes I'm never going to touch again sitting next to books on my bookshelf.

Work is no better.  It's not that I don't want to be organized, or that I don't try, because I do want to, and I do try to.  Half of the time I put things in various places to "deal with later" because I'm too lazy to do it at the time.  Eventually I go on a "cleaning" spree, which results in just moving things around so that it looks less cluttered, but everything is still there.  I wouldn't call myself a hoarder, because I do eventually realize I'm never going to use something, and get rid of it.  I'm just prone to cluttering.

I guess it shouldn't surprise me though.  I put things "away" like I store things in my brain.  If my brain were a storage room, it'd be full of piles.  There'd be plenty of shelves and filing cabinets and things, but nothing would be sorted.  It's just how I work, I think.  I typically bounce around topics with no segue in between them, because that's how they're stacked in my head.  Occasionally I mentally re-arrange them, and throw out the thoughts and memories I don't need anymore, but for the most part, I just shuffle them from one pile to another.

If I were smart, which apparently I'm not, I would have been dusting off surfaces as I clear them and before putting things back on them.  Whoops.  Next time?  Ha.

Hm, another song in iTunes I've never played, nor heard before.  I give you Christina Perri' "Jar of Hearts":

Yesterday Is Just a Memory

I know time is constant, but sometimes it just feels like it moves faster than others. October feels like it was blinked away. I remember doing a bunch of things, but I feel like I paid October's rent yesterday, and November's today. Somewhere in there were five Fridays, five Saturdays, and five Sundays though. Crazy.

I'm amazed at how long I've known some people, and how much my friendships and relationships have changed in that time. In the last decade I've gained a lot of friends and lost quite a few. Although I wouldn't say I lost them so much as the friendships just sort of fizzled, as they do. I read an article not too long about how social networks are messing with our normal friendship cycles. We're meant to gain and lose friends; it's part of life. But with social networks, we no longer say goodbye. We just keep our former friends just a reach away, although now they're more of acquaintances, even though we used to talk to them daily and knew everything about them. It's kind of saddening.

Not as saddening though as the number of people I can't be friends with anymore, because they've left us. Sunday I learned of yet another person from my past who passed away, and while I was somewhat sad about it, I hadn't talked to her in 7 years. It was more of a reminder of the people who were closer to me that have died recently.

Death, like time, is also a constant, and for some it just comes sooner than it does for others. That's just the way it is, and the way it will be, unless the various religions have some truth to them. If they do, great. If not, well, what will it matter? We'll be dead.

Vertical Horizon - I'm Still Here: