predictable hokum

previously published by me elsewhere:

There seems to be so much stirring up inside me right now that I can't think where exactly to start. I know it's the general curse of a storyteller to determine when to introduce the story, and when to decide that the story is over. Sometimes that takes up more time than writing the damn thing.

From a suggestion by a couple of friends I have jumped on this bandwagon, and joined up at the trend that is myspace.com. I tend to steer clear of trends, or that's at least what I'd like to believe. Yet here I am, adding to the useless drivel that clogs the internet, and serving it up on the new devil music for teens space of choice: my.

As much as I have likened it to newspeak, ala 1984, I have even started to post these "blogs" on a fairly regular basis. I feel I am quickly becoming a far less private person than the sort I have perfected being for many years. Sure, I know I can select my readership, but for some masochistic reason I choose not to. There's something exciting about sharing with whoever cares to read, but then again it also makes me feel rather exposed. So, I'm undecided on the matter.

Sometimes I feel like I have to really contemplate each phrase to ensure I am not insulting someone who might stumble upon my site, and to ensure whoever reads it doesn't start to judge my overall writing ability. In that light, recently I was called verbose by a friend of mine. To me it was rather an insult, but only because I'm well aware of my failings. I'm reminded of a professor I had in college who referred to one of my pieces as overwrought. Look it up, it's not positive either. So the hell what - I like words!

So, this myspace thing has diverted far from my expectations. I still think my prediction that a lot of people use it for bootycalls is appropriate, but there's a whole other side to it that I have recently tapped into. It also has the potential to reunite people in a very controlled reunion type environment. I have actually gotten back in touch with some people who I fully expected would never re-enter my life. Ever.

But I do think there's a certain amount of it all that really gets my mind churning. I just keep looking around at people, whether old acquaintances or complete strangers, and everything that they'll share here about themselves, whether writing, pictures, or lists of interests. I think a lot of people just want to matter.

There's something that's really gotten me while looking at all of this collected life in pictures, and such. I'm reminded of "Wonder Boys", an under-appreciated film. There's a scene with Katie Holmes and Michael Douglas alone in his study, talking about how his 3,000 page book represents making no noticable choices.

I look at those pictures of all of those places people live, or have visited, or of activities they like to fill their weekend with. And I think again about choices, and I'm reminded of how little life we really get.

Don't worry, I'm really fuckin' far away from preaching that old carpe diem crap here. Okay?

But, anyway, there's something very elementary school about the whole matter. "If you choose to play in the block area, then you're not using the finger paints today." That shit never lets up, does it? If you decide to visit the Grand Canyon, you might never see the Eiffel Tower (financial figures aside, of course).

Choice.

Its about putting stuff in just as much as it is about leaving something out. Most of the time I find myself focusing every waking moment on something related to my career choice, whether it's writing scenes, networking with on-line colleagues, mapping out a shooting schedule, researching, or innumerable other things, even to the point of infringing on regular life. I think most people spend their whole careers trying to break in, paying dues, and honestly taking everything and anything that comes along.

You know, sometimes it would be nice if the right choice could be "no".