The Earth According to Mark.

I really hope that this terribleness is the kind of shit that proceeds the Golden Age, parallel somewhat to the many heroes and inventors and innovators whom I look up. I'm about to make alot of terrible mistakes [or are they good decisions?].

And I want to be held accountable for every action.

When I used to live in Irvine, I would drive to the beach, this area on Orange St. and Pacific Coast Highway. I would venture in the darkness of the sand and stand there looking into the dark void. Moistness from the ocean would slam against my face, and soon a moistness would start rolling down my cheeks. I wrote it off as condensation or the proverbial "sea breeze" but the intent was clear.

I would clench my fists and scream in the face of the Pacific Ocean. And I do this for hours on end. Just walking up and down the beach screaming, like a knight battling a dragon in those fairy tale stories that often litter the kid's section of Borders. And in such instances, I truly felt that there was this ferociousness inside me that would soon dissipate amongst the waves. Unfortunately, such flames are never fulfilling, and I feel this tinge of passivity bite my neck.

Vegas.

They say that what happens in Vegas stays in Vegas, but a part of me died there. Nothing happened in particular, but I feel like it was a turning point for the worst. I lost myself. I lost my passion. I lost direction. Not all in one instant, but in a sort of realization.

Sometimes I wake up, and I feel like I'm in the wrong life. Like this wasn't my destiny or my plan, I just happened upon someone else's and became in engrossed in it like a communicable disease or a contagious virus. It just sort of sneaked up on me and took everything. And I wish I could start-over. And in many ways I might get that chance: I submit my nursing papers this month. And then I wait five long months for a reply that may very well hold the key to everything.

I have a goal. Nursing school. I have a plan. A master's in PA or maybe even pharmacy school. But I don't have the "why." If "why" is the "meaning," I want to find "why." I want the justification for what was and what is, so that I can look forward to the what will be. I know happiness is reality minus expectation, but I can't help but feel full of unfulfilled anticipation.

I'm not aimless. I just want to know why I'm pulling the trigger.

I really believe it's going to be a good film especially with JD working as the director of photography. I don't think I could've dreamed up some of the shots he came up with; I'm more of a story guy, and I was usually saying stuff like, "I need a shot of me putting on clothes," while JD was saying stuff like, "Let's shoot from this angle, against the light, and keep you in a third of the shot." It really shows this diverse multitude shared between us: one guy is poignant and plot-driven, the other is artful and visual.

It reaffirms the belief that I'm not entirely hard to work with. Recording an album this past seven months has really showed me that just because one person can do "this" doesn't mean they are willing to do "that." I can tell you the stories of difficult people, but I'd rather concentrate on the people who had an open mind and an open heart and wanted to make music with me. It reminds me of how I did this really weird spoken-word song with a friend for Open Jam. (And I'm very grateful to my friend for being so willing to do something quite daring.) I didn't want to do it because "it was weird" or because "it was jocular," but because no one else was doing it. I wanted to do something different. And very after-the-fact, I think I was partially inspired by the spoken-word scene in the movie She's All That.

And that's how I feel about this film I'm making: It's the "good side" of collaboration mixed with the unnerving need to perpetuate "different." I could easily shoot a film and edit it in a week, but given what I'm doing now (live-action/animation), I can see this project dragging out until August easily. (Maybe even September.) Well I'm putting my foot down right now on August 26. But I can't promise anything. Like I said, post-production will primarily be done by me alone, and will take the bulk of my time.

But it's always good to try something new. Especially when you don't know how that something new works. Because I'm not going to lie - I only have a VERY superficial plan to impose animation in live-action shots. But I'm willing to trudge through it all just to get this film made.

I don't believe in much to be honest. I try sometimes late at night. When I'm kneeling in pews with folded hands. On long car drives to Southern California. But the only voice that speaks to me is my ceiling fan, the echo of a clergy man, and rubber rolling on asphalt. That's why sometimes I feel the only omnipresent verbalizations I should listen to are the ones inside myself. Too often there's this drive to beat the shit out of the outside when really we had it in ourselves all along.

I had to write this personal statement. It asked what made me a better candidate in the time between when I last applied and now. It was like asking me what I had accomplished over this past year. So I went through my mental list: donating blood, taking a class, sparsely doing volunteer work, judging speech competitions, and the list goes on [for just a tiny bit]. But there is one accomplishment which I feel cannot be recorded: I always lacked this self-efficacy, but if this year taught me anything, it's to really go out and paint the world red; to be the conquerer not the conquered. I'm reading this book The Tao of Pooh, and the book pushes these 'chill' ideals like "Effortless Effort" and "Uncarved Block." I think three years ago these ideas would've made sense, but after living in Bakersfield for this long, I can honestly say that inaction and passivity are the reasons this world is so lacking in hope. We want change but aren't willing to purport with our own being?

I know I said that from age 22 to 23 was a blank - a void of unemployment, but I see it for more than that. It was the calm that caused the storm. I can't live the way I am anymore. I need something more than what I have and what I'm doing. I need to tear down the four walls around me and blow the roof off. I need to sink my hands in to the soil and breath embers through my nose. I want to say it was my fault that I couldn't get a job, but in realizing Bakersfield's 20% unemployment rate, it's because I never took the chance to branch out - as in, branch out of Bakersfield. I kept my ambitions confined. But no more.

Because life is supposed to be about the mistakes we've made, and the only mistake I've made in the past year was not making any. The worst decision I've made is the one I didn't make. And the list goes on. I'd rather be an active failure than an inactive loser. I'd rather be chasing the what-can't-be-had than settling for the what-is.

Because life should be about adventure and romance. And not every adventure involves an excursion into the darkness of the night or being chased by police or any variation of the aforementioned. But rather adventure entails doing that which you are insanely scared of. Adventure asks the adventurer to take a risk, to neglect the past [or learn from the past], and to go forth. And romance should be essential for me, the troubadour of the unrequited whose denialist attitudes towards poetry are only purported by a love of said-poetry. Words, words, words.

This week I send off my papers, and it's probably the only time I'll ever really pray for something. Because it's a future that I feel is the most plausible. And I don't feel like I'm settling on this future. I feel like it's a different path, a different road, a different state of mind. And sometimes change is good.

I don't know why I wrote this in this blog.