Now I donít know what Iím feeling. Not quite numb, not depressed, but not excited. I worked on the house today. Painted a door, decorated a bit, cleaned a lot. I also sat on the new leather couch and pet the cats for over an hour. Trying to cut down on my Internet time really is like weening a crackhead off of meth or, you know... crack.
Rise to the occasion. Putting my head back on. Lifting everything to meet the challenges. My obstacles are simple. Get up every day, breathe, and walk out the door. Some days are easier than others. Hope is not lost, not yet. My first true love remains in my heart, and thatís the need to tell a story.
Iím still swimming in a sea of malaise. There is a lot of potential in one aspect of hope and thatís in Accidental Art. I want to make this movie damn it. Itís been ripe ever since we got the script in order. Iíve let too much affect my confidence.
The murky funk passes again. Teaching 2 classes this week helped get me out of the ditch. I try to bring my ďAĒ-Game to teaching. I plan things above and beyond what is expected and on the page. I create interactive material, present more video tutorials, and whatever this internal energy can be called, that fire ignites even when thereís only 5 students.
You see? This is what Iím talking about. I want to continue to be generous when I choose to, but this makes it very hard. I have a stellar example that vexes me. It makes it nearly impossible to ignore.
Letís delve deeper into my past, to the root of some of my issues if you will. I am in no way unaware of many of the causes to my psychological needs and wants. Of course upbringing colored my views. I always feel I am ultimately responsible for all of my own decisions. My choices are just that, MINE. Thatís not to say there arenít some amusing anecdotes that might mean more to a student of Freud than myself.
I continue, slowly, to paint and redecorate the homestead. Itís like Iím erasing the bad memories, or even evil spirits that live in the walls. When I lived in this 100 year old house in the 1990ís, first with some friends, and then later just roommates, no matter how bad things might get, this house was the first place my entire life I felt was a HOME, truly a home. When Iíd go to places like Europe or Africa, then come back, this was where I felt I belonged. My friend Noreen dubbed it ROSSDOM.
For those of you faithful readers of my blog, I have noted that some of you showed concern about being so honest and blunt in the public eye. And even about how this is somewhat one sided, but arenít all blogs? More importantly, I had not in the thick of it mentioned nary a word about the break up until my ex had kind of opened the floodgates by making one sided statements on Facebook. So here I am; what one reaps, one sows.
Hope lives on the horizon. Sometimes you get a sign and for me that came from a filmmaker meeting and I told someone the storyline of ACCIDENTAL ART. It was like I was breathing for the first time in a few years, as if sunshine came out and hit me in the face with their glorious rays. My original intent was to do a short film or two first to Ďwarm upí kind of like the scrimmage before the big game, but screw it. Time to get back in the saddle again.
Life goes on. I donít know why, but it does. There are good days and there are bad days. Sometimes the days a dull, others are filled to the brim with excitement and adventure. Who knows what causes the patterns?
Not too long ago I had what I would consider a kind of spiritual experience. I felt as though something or someone was trying to tell me something and it wasnít the kind of rational, corporeal experience I normally have. I donít drink, nor do I do drugs (which is such a vanilla term Ďdo drugsí, because you snort cocaine, shoot heroin, smoke weed, etc. none of them do you Ďdoí), so this wasnít something from a chemical/biological source. I donít know what it was.
Yeah, still not feeling great. Another toothache and now the flu donít exactly help. People take from these blogs whatever they want. I have no real control over that and itís not really anything I care to correct. Misunderstandings, assumptions, and preconceived notions conspire to create whatever image of me everyone will want to make. All I do is keep writing.
So, it happened. I never intended to get someoneís entire YouTube account shut down, but that is exactly what happened. I know because itís so easy in todayís world to obtain a video and to re-upload it yourself, but it doesnít negate the fact the Intellectual Property laws are still in effect.
I already know how this is going to play out. Itís not fair that I can see certain aspects of the future like a crystal ball. The truth is it wasnít personal. I am on a content ID aware program that alerts me to ANYONE who uploads my own short films anywhere on YouTube. I have an automatic response to take them down if used in their entirety. Itís a violation of copyright laws. Even if it was someone I used to spoon on a regular basis.
There are some upsides to my world right now. I am eating much better. I cook a lot at home. Iím still walking between 1-4 miles 7 days a week at either Sharon Woods or High Banks Parks. Iíve lost over 30 pounds since June, although I am still very overweight. I have been more dutiful about cleaning my house, and slowly doing repairs. Iíve been reading exponentially more. Being all alone is not entirely bad. I guess 10 years ago I didnít have quite the same point of reference to compare it to.
It feels like there is novacaine in my soul. I have so little emotion about anything. I care about practically nothing. I love my cats. I derive a small amount of pleasure from watching the Daily Show, or reading a good book. Overall though, the passion of my life drained a long time ago. This was long before the big break up. It has little to do with my ex.
So another week has come and gone without nary a clue as to how to end my creative drought. Iíve been working on the homestead quite a bit. It has been stifling to have the living room unchanged since the divorce. Coming home and having nothing look or feel different was pulling me down like an albatross. This past weekend, a friend came over and helped me paint, and then I spent hours moving furniture, hanging posters, putting up pictures, etc.
I wanted to mention something a little more uplifting than my last blog. My life is not completely devoid of anything positive, nor am I eyeballing headstones or writing overlong eulogies for my own funeral. Something keeps me going, and in some cases, it can be the simplest things.
So Iím going to try to shoot again soon. Writing is not my problem. Itís the making the movie part that has me a bit gunshy. I think I have developed a higher degree of obsessive compulsive disorder in some areas and have therapeutically resolved it in others. I am STILL remodeling my condo. Itís like I feel I canít do the next thing until the first few things I set out to do are done.