Do Not Fear the Foe

There must be a reason that I haven't been writing. I'm so distracted by my work at the retail computer store. Distracted and exhausted. My schedule confuses me only b/c I wake up with my wife at 7am and don't go back to sleep, when I have to work at 5pm.

The creative voice is laying dormant in fear and repose. I have learned a Shakespearean monologue, finally. Now, I must learn a comedic one, and 2 more contemporary. That's the plan.

I haven't had one audition from my manager nor my agent. They ask for new headshots, but there has been a LONG dry spell of auditions.

I read Syd Field's book, Screenwriting and I was inspired to write an actual screenplay b/c of the ease in which Mr. Field explained the process, making perfect sense to me. It seemed easy, and I did the exercises up to a point. When I was supposed to brainstorm on a character biography, I stopped writing and continued on with the chapters reading.

That's where the fear kicked in, filled with self-doubt about my skills as a writer or creative voice. Doubts of why crept in as well. Why am i doing this? Why should I write something? How important could it be? How self-involved to write a story.

Then I read Kung Fu Monkey, the blog, and his Writing section helped me to understand that writing, no matter how creative and expressive, is still a job. A job that you work on 8 to 10 to 12 hours a day, if you are lucky and talented enough to be hired as a writer. As an amateur writer, that is the kind of goal to strive for, and remember, if I can force myself to write like it's my job (despite that my energy is consumed with two other jobs), then which "job" would I much rather do?

I don't like the temping job, despite the money. I like the computer store job, despite the lack of money and bad schedule. I may never know the possibilities of the money if I never write.

And at this point in my life, I have no creative writing under my belt, so that virginal project has yet to be popped out. That's the biggest wall. I've never done it, so I don't know if I can do it. Then I read, no matter how good your first screenplay, or play for that matter, it will not be produced. Well, play itself, I can produce with investors I know, but screenplay is a different monster. It takes agents to like the spec script, then it rests in their files forever. At least, I know that.

But with all my fears preempting my literary strike, I have no idea, and will only slow down in output in this blog. I know, I've looked. The number of entries are lower. Hey, I write more at the investment bank b/c I have more time. At the computer store, I am at the beckon call of the customer. The remaining time is precious, to be consumed by my loving and understanding wife.

There are no excuses. I know there is time in the days when I work the store, it's the sleep schedule that screws me up.

Basically, struggling artist, battles own demons to start a script. Fear is winning. Will he fight back? He is aware now, or at least, acknowledges the fear, the mighty foe. Is this the time to do battle with his own worst enemy? Tune in and find out.

Draft This

Almost two weeks since the election. Happiness ensues. Rep. Charles B. Rangel(D-NY) wants to reinstate the Draft. Slavery ensues. Again.

Now, I do agree with raising troop levels in Iraq to at least three to four times the amount present to win this war fast and get the hell out, but reawaking this devisive and unconstitutional measure seems insane and a throwback to dividing the nation. And of course, he had to be a long-time Democrat from New York. And here I was proud to be a New Yorker and relieved that the majority of Democrats won both the House and Senate.

Rangel's proposed bill and Sen. John McCain's trumpet for escalation is just what everyone was talking about after the election - bipartisan smooching and rubbing. I doubt it will pass, and the support of those in the military and in America will not allow such an event to happen, but I'm sure glad Democrats and Republicans are getting along so well, gosh darnit.

There has to be another way to do it. How? I have no idea. I don't want my brother, who is 23 this year, heading over there. I'll give him money for an extended trip to the Philippines instead of having that money go to his own personal body armor. While he's there, he can remind American officials of the past conflict, after the Spanish-American war. When the U.S. liberated the Philippines from the oppresive Spanish colonialism, a decade-long insurgency of Filipino nationalists and Muslims wanted to push America out of the region, reluctant to more foreign rule. The conflict was long, protracted and unpopular here at home.

I want America's past idealism to ring true in the present, but poor leadership has created a lesser world view of this once beacon of hope and prosperity. I don't want to think about it anymore. Iraq, war, immigration, Homeland Security, Terror. And that's why someone else is doing the thinking for me, our elected officials. It's their job to focus on it when everyone else must go about there lives. But if something like the draft starts to affect more and more people's lives, there will be dire consequences here at home, like the sixties, and individuals will start thinking for themselves and taking action.

After Hitler's invasions followed by Pearl Harbor, America rallied together with a million strong in the military through a phased draft and volounteers. Vietnam was a slow burn without a great rallying event for the people, although the Gulf of Tonkin incident sparked more military increases and a draft. 9/11 brought the country together and we felt accomplishment in Afghanistan, though Osama still has not been found. But along the way, the course was not stayed, and we ended up in Iraq. Something else needs to be done by our country as a whole to rally together again, in order to prevent the tragedy and national mourning of another 9/11. If a large scale attack happened, our country would again rally, and it is absolutely possible that attacks will occur. If that happens, a draft might be feasible. But that doesn't mean I'd agree with it. And neither would Americans, taking their cause to the streets.

Vote or Die, again

With the election tomorrow, I feel compelled to read as little as possible about who's who in New York. I don't like what's going on, so I want them out. I'm not even living in New Jersey, but the constant, ugly barrage of mud-slung ads is making me feel dirty. I need an apolitical shower.

Wash away the dirt and grime that has put a stranglehold on America. Even though it's common knowledge that the New York Times' has a strong liberal bias, I don't really mind. I'm a re-transplanted New Yorker, born North, grew up South, moved back North with a liberal-conservative mesh of sensibilities. The NYT's editorial on the election is about the only thing I've read, and I appreciate the writer attempting to re-define the NYT as a common supporter of moderate Republicans, but this year, the NYT supports none. I hope that that is enough soap to promote good voting hygiene.

How many scandals can there be? How many more hypocrites of the Christian right can be exposed? How many Constitutional rights can be tread on roughly and swept under the rug of Checks & Balances, only to be recovered when the next staff of Washington's sanitation workers comes into power. Our republic is a war of inches, and each inch that is given away, bill by bill, Patriot Act by Patriot Act, will slowly lop off the feet and limbs that support a free and more perfect Union.

I'm so tired of the way things are being done. I don't follow politics as much as some, and I know more than others, but as an everyday citizen who watches enough of the news over the past four years, and reads into little details here and there, I want them all gone. I want our country's rights back and a departure from the fall into executive dictatorship that has happened with a Republican-led House, Senate and Executive Office.

I may be speaking in general terms, but I know enough of the specifics to feel embarrassed about what's going on in our country. I never thought there would be such a return to the storied past of the Vietnam era. Scandal and war, secrets and cover-ups. I thought that the culmination of those times would end with progress and change, and learning from the past. But under-achieving cowboys tend not to learn about the failures of the times when partying it up on Daddy's bill, snorting blow and failing at running a business.

If we're going to dive into the past, I want to call upon a voice of the past, a fictional one that called to a nation to get "Mad as hell, and [I'm] not going to take this anymore!"

I hope the nation is angry. I hope the angry turn out to vote. I hope the winners shake up the current losers in office, and I hope the new leaders will not fall into weakness the way the current base, fearful representatives have done.

We need hope and we need courageous individuals who are willing to risk there first term on doing what is right and fighting for it, life or death. Life or death is what our soldiers are facing, and life or death is a suicide bomber's choice culmination. Our leaders need to be willing to die politically in order to save our country. Let them be martyrs for the Cause. Otherwise, we shall sit in this pigsty for another two years, maybe longer.

Today's Fortune

A week's gone by without writing a blog. Funny how I write more at the investment bank than at the retail computer job. It's just been difficult to get situated in my contrasting schedules. Mondays and Fridays I work the nine-to-five life, Tues-Thurs I work 5pm-midnight. I was working 7pm-2am, catching the subway and getting home at 3:30am... not my preference.

I used to do it all the time, cater-waiting, bar tending, working as a bellman at a fancy, boutique hotel. I didn't mind then, when I was single and had no one to come home to. But now I do, and home is all-important. I was also living in Manhattan, so the commute wasn't so bad. If it was way too late, I'd take a cab home. A $40 ride doesn't fly in the distant realm of Brooklyn, far, far away. A normal person with a car can go a hundred miles in two hours. But us super creatures, highly-evolved at public transportation, can travel 10 to 20 miles. By car, at night without traffic, we could drive to north New Jersey in a half hour. By train, two hours. That's why we rarely visit family across the Hudson.

And that's why we accept automobile donations. Feel free to leave the keys in the car. Just holla and pull the car up to the curb. We'll gladly take it off your hands. Hell, I'd take your yellow cab if you offered. It's just that people would try to flag us down all the time. It'd be a little weird with strangers jumping into my backseat all the time. "No, I'm sorry, can you get out." That's why they invented locks, yes.

We like to tell ourselves that being in the City is worth it. It's where we have to be. It's where all the action is and where all our business is done. Well, it is. But being a son of the South, where cars and trucks are lifeblood, I miss the freedom of just walking outside, braving the elements for only a minute or two while the car warms up or cools down, and propel myself to point B. In New York, there's no avoiding the elements. It is in your face.

Two days ago, it felt like spring. I was walking around in flip flops, T-shirt and jeans, thinking, I love November. Today, it's frickin' winter, and I'm ready to migrate my tail feathers to Miami. "That's the Chicago way. And that's how you get Capone." Huh? Sean Connery at his best.

Pulling back into the bank building - I like to pretend and use a car metaphor, I can dream - I realize it's the simple things that make me happy. Sharing the subway ride, snuggling up to my honey. Eating a nice warm Everything bagel, which includes rock salt on the Everything, giving it that extra Umph, stuffed with hot eggs, ham and melted cheddar. Breathing easy and in good health. A decent paying job that gets us by, allowing me to write a little, while holding onto the dream. A hot-as-hell apartment in frigid little Moscow (I've said hell twice, now three times - I'm so free-wheelin'). That's what keeps me going.

I'm really appreciating, in this moment, all that I have. I've got my family, friends, and the love of my beautiful bride. I'm a fortunate man.