Today, I was gobsmacked with a wave of nostalgia. I went to a new restaurant for my office’s lunch run, Belcampo, on 3rd Street in LA, and it was there (in the Verve coffee shop next door) where I spent many a day typing away at my creative endeavors. Whether the focus was My Cancer Story, a screenplay, or the then-numerous blog posts (yeah, sorry about that), I spent my free time (of which I had ample supply then) ticking away at my form of expression. On November 8th, it will have been three years since I moved into my first apartment here, the temporary room rental on Blackburn Ave.
I’d hit another low point in my life recently– not because of work, but because my creative outlet, writing, was smothered by work. Don’t get me wrong, working on television show sets is something that I’ve dreamed about since I was a boy – and it’s a far cry from a hated profession being the inhibitor – but nevertheless, if I don’t write, then a part of me isn’t living.
Dedicated to Wes.
I just found out that I lost a friend I had grown to know very well over the past three years to suicide. We worked together on a few shorts in Maine and he always seemed happy (well, as much as any of us anyway). He had recently been taking care of himself; eating right, working out, and working towards his goals. But in the end, his thoughts were too much for him to contain and he took action albeit in the wrong direction.
I’m devastated not only because we lost him but sad that we feel so isolated in a world full of lonely people. If only we could get together more, talk more frequently, and learn to break away from feeling ashamed to reach out then this wouldn’t happen as often as it does.Read More »
This past Saturday, I was making my usual rounds driving for Lyft. I usually let the rides dictate where I go for the most part, so I am able to explore this great county called Los Angeles (and sometimes, Orange County too). So when I got sent up to the Canoga Park area, I barely batted an eye.
After that ride was completed, I quickly picked up another woman with a few bags headed close to home, the Bob Hope International Airport in Burbank. When I pulled up to the curb, she frantically threw her bags inside and immediately apologized that this might be a terrible ride for me.