As I Crash Again

To be honest, I shouldn’t be writing this right now.

What I should be writing is my two remaining essays for school. Both are due this coming Thursday and I have much left to do.

This is my process, though. At the beginning of each semester, I am nothing less than an academic wrecking ball; I decimate everything in my path. Unfortunately, at some point the wrecking ball loses momentum and sways back, continuously floating back and forth between its release point and target, losing power with each swing. From what I can see, I’m approaching my last swing.

I don’t know why I wait until the last minute. This is reflected throughout my life.

That’s all I have to say about that.

I went to a Buddhist temple the other day. I didn’t know that Buddha was not considered a God. I liked that. The Buddhists (Nichiren Soshu, to be exact) believe that anyone can be as good as the Buddha. Everyone is capable of enlightenment. They teach you that you, yourself, are capable of good. You don’t need anyone else to tell you that you are good, for you have it within you. You can be as good as what you worship.

I witnessed myself act for the first time in years a couple weeks ago. The short film that I did a few months ago finally released. I didn’t do very well. That made me really, really sad. Genuinely sad. After watching, I had one of those truly existential moments where you undoubtedly believe that you aren’t good enough to succeed at what you want to do. Then you start thinking about how you won’t make your parents proud. Your parents will die knowing you weren’t good enough (of course you were in their eyes, but that won’t satisfy you). You won’t be able to provide for your family. You should just quit.

Fuck it, though.


What I’m Reading:

Amusing Ourselves to Death by Neil Postman

What I’m Listening To:

The Saturation Trilogy by Brockhampton (“Star” is my fav, I think)


P.S. There is no good reason for Bearface to be in Brockhampton.

The Most Practical Advice on Accomplishing Anything

The most pertinent piece of advice if you want to accomplish anything.

I’ve always had immense trouble with following through. I get these wondrous ideas that ricochet in my head for days, but they never make it down to paper. Or they do, and they just never develop from there. This is because I talk about them.

Instant gratification, my friends, the bane to all of my work thus far. Now, bear with me, as I read this on the internet last week on some website I can’t recall and I’m about to quite loosely paraphrase it for you. It essentially says:

“When you get an idea, a new idea for a project, a business, etc., STOP TELLING EVERYBODY ABOUT IT. The science behind it is says that when you come up with an idea and haven’t begun to flesh it out, yet you still talk about it as if you’re actually working on it, your brain somehow thinks it has put some legitimate work into the project. So you go to a dinner party, tell everyone about this screenplay idea that you came up with and are working on, now everybody thinks you’re this genius screenwriter (and you revel in it), so you go home and sleep like a baby because you feel as if you accomplished something. You didn’t. It has to do with the power of suggestion, “speaking it into being” etc.”

This is what I’ve always done. After high school and before I moved to Los Angeles, I was working full-time and saving up money for that move. I wasn’t in school; so whenever I went to college parties with my old friends and I’d talk about my plans they’d say, “Oh my god that’s SO cool that you’re gonna be an actor and like living on your own in L.A. and like I’m just an Economics major like ugh.” That shit made me feel so good. Even though I hadn’t moved yet, I hadn’t booked a single role, I still felt as if I had already accomplished all of that; because they already envisioned me as that person. The work was done.

But therein lies the problem, because you haven’t done any work.

This is why when I began to read for pleasure (something I had never experienced before), I didn’t tell anyone about it. I knew that if I told people I started reading all the time, they would tell me that I’m smart. Thus, I would think I was smart. And I’d stop reading. So I didn’t tell anyone; and now I can’t stop reading. I’m doing the same thing with this blog. Not a single person in my life, except for my girlfriend who I couldn’t hide it from because she sees me type the posts :), knows about this. And I intend to keep it that way until I’ve built something worthwhile of this burgeoning domain.

What I’m Reading:

Of Human Bondage by W. Somerset Maugham, up to Chapter 9 (hey, at least I wrote today!)

What I’m Listening To:

Emergency & I by The Dismemberment Plan

The Beginning of a Beginning

I turned 20 four days ago.

And just about a week ago I finished reading James Joyce’s collection Dubliners. That was huge. Not in length, but in scope. It was huge for me. I read it because Ernest Hemingway told me to. You see, I come from a family of writers, and though I never cared much for the craft, I had some talent. I thought I was an actor, but I don’t know anymore. During my time on this earth a various assortment of potential occupations have piqued my interest and action, though I have yet to come upon something that truly fascinates me and holds my folly.

At age 10, I got my first gig as an actor playing the role of “Jock” in High School Musical at the local community theater. Some people claim they remember exactly when they got the “acting bug”, but I cannot recall such a moment. I was and remain an expert recluse. I never raise my hand in class even if I know the correct answer. I seek to blend into the background wherever I am. I don’t really talk to people. One, because I am afraid people won’t like me. Two, because I really don’t like most people. I never take the opportunity to show people who I am because it scares me. I believe the reason I was drawn to acting is because it provided me with a medium that allowed me to express, even if it was as a character. I kept this hobby all the way through high school and, in my sincere opinion, I was decent. I held an officer position in the Thespian club, I was booking lead roles left and right, I was even making a name for myself in the local film community. But I never really cared. I never loved it. It was never something that I yearned to do for any other reason than that it was what I did. 

And what I did led me to the decision to forgo a higher education and instead move straight to Los Angeles immediately following my nineteenth birthday in hopes of a big break in Hollywood. Under the impression that I would get the jump on all the actors that decided to enroll in four-year BFA programs, I packed up my 2002 Saturn fit for a very petite king and made the arduous journey from Phoenix, AZ to L.A. How has it worked out for me? Quite well, in fact. I’ve booked two jobs working as an extra. That’s it. I’ll explain why that’s good.

All of my life I have never been able to stick to any one thing. I become gravely invested in a single activity and after about two weeks, at the moment when you have to start honing in on the details to continue progressing, I give up. This has never occurred to me in regards to acting, and what I surmise from that is that I have never found it difficult. So, as a logical man, I must assume that I have been doing it wrong. Something I have learned through my first twenty years on this planet but have yet to experience myself is that anything worth doing will at some point pose a challenge; If I truly care about what I am doing, I will take on that challenge. I need to find out if writing is my true calling. That is why I started this blog. This is my challenge.

In December of 2014, I was applying to be a BFA Acting major at USC.

In February of 2016, I was going to apply to the Los Angeles College of Music to major in Music Production

In October of 2016, I watched Mad Men from start to finish in a week and a half and decided that I wanted be an actor again.

In July of 2017, I read an article about Ernest Hemingway and his young apprentice Arnold Samuelson. Hemingway gave Samuelson a piece of paper with sixteen works and their respective authors. Along with this, Hemingway allegedly said to the boy, “Here’s a list of books any writer should have read as a part of his education… If you haven’t read these, you just aren’t educated. They represent different types of writing. Some may bore you, others might inspire you and others are so beautifully written they’ll make you feel it’s hopeless for you to try to write.” So, I’m beginning my education. The first book I was able to find at the library was Dubliners and I completed it three days ago. My thoughts on the book soon to come.

So, as of right now, July 26th, 2017, I am deciding to enroll in the local community college as an English major. My dream, as it stands now, is to write a screenplay, sell it, and star in it. As implausible as that sounds, it’s all I got. And I’ll be damned if I don’t try.

Until that time comes, you can find me here. And what you’ll find here is this:

  • The anecdotes of a twenty year old kid living on his own in Los Angeles (I feel as if that should be enticing enough on its own).
  • What I’m reading.
  • My thoughts on what I’m reading.
  • What I’m listening to.
  • My thoughts on what I’m listening to.
  • My general reflections on the world, the world around me, and myself.

For those of you who are reading, I implore you, hold me to this. Because I don’t know if I can.