May The Fear Be Within You

If you’ve ever seen “Defending Your Life” (which you should) there is a moment when Albert Brooks has to come to terms with his life. See, his life was full of fear. Everything he did, or as was the case, didn’t do was because he was scared. Which doesn’t buy your way into heaven. Not only was he a scaredy cat in his present life, he was also freaked in his past lives. As they show in a scene in the halls of past lives. Each time, he ran from his fears. Never faced them. Nor took a chance.

That is a solid message for those of us out there that are so scared of the unknown. Of trying to figure out our full potential. As I got older, I realized how much more unsubstantiated fear I have. And I don’t even know why. Maybe risk assessment of an older person. One that weighs consequences over…well…living life. I have a lot of that lately. My friend Mike has it in spades. As I mentioned before, he’s paralyzed with life. He doesn’t know what he wants to do. All he knows is that data ingest isn’t it. It’s not creative. And he constantly taps me for all the creative projects out there. I’m not sure if he’s just a talker, or he’s willing to put rubber to road. Most desperate people continue to play in the fray. Which is…vamp openly how miserable they are, but when approached, he wilts. My impression of him is that he’s just bored with life. A boring person gets bored easily. Mike isn’t a boring guy, he’s actually quite hilarious. But he just doesn’t know how to channel his interest into something he could do for life.

I think there are a lot of people from my past don’t realize what I do, but believes my life to be more interesting than their own lives. In some ways, this is true. Movie making is…by its very nature, interesting. Telling stories is a universal appeal. We do it everyday. To be engaging is something else though. Most every occupation out there doesn’t have that added bonus of exposure. I can’t brag about my pizza tossing skills (which I’m actually very good at).

So, people throw this into a “glamorous” pile. It’s got some moments. Such as when “Jurassic World” busted over $500 million just domestically, and I’d be the one to scan every single 35mm film frame (I don’t scan 65mm), I took pride in knowning so many people saw something I’d touched. Yeah, it’s silly, but it’s something. Also, I know other projects being released this year will have a similar effect. That keeps me motivated to do my own movie. To show my chops, at the next level. I don’t expect much, and I hope I don’t promise all that much either. But I told my sister recently, that I feel a bit of disappointment that I hadn’t made the type of money that allowed my parents to retire. I was ambitious at some point, to which that was ancillary to being a director. It’s so wild how people embrace that title. I find it harder to say than “I love you” to a chick. “I’m a director.” Eesh. I think since this town, everyone wants to direct. And everyone believes you fake it till you make it. It’s a good attitude, if you don’t go delusional. But then fear creeps in again.

I’m sure anxiety never really goes away. There is a lot of things to fear that are completely made up in my head. To which I think it’s only natural to be very…careful, now that opportunities aren’t as…let’s just say inside a dreamer’s head. The practical side most definitely creeps in. I’ve hobbled myself financially, and I think a lot of times…this leads to that unfounded fear that I’d be some hobo riding the rails. A healthier, younger me wouldn’t care. Creature comforts are for the disabled. I’m attempting to streamline my life by getting rid of gear I use to hold so sacred. The more stuff leaves me, the lighter I feel. Will I regret these decisions? Probably not. My mind is mush anyway. I start to pity the ones who go day to day with very little to look forward to. I think being scared and doing something about it, trumps being paralyzed with no purpose.

I don’t sleep much. Nor do I walk around in peace. That’s my own brain playing tricks on me. I’m constantly moving and tinkering and…well, thinking. Or trying to. I work on other scripts as this short film I’m making is in production. I’m juggling as much as I can, because I don’t know how much time I have. Talk about a motivator. Recently Amanda Peterson had passed away at 43 years old. She was that hot blonde from “Can’t Buy Me Love.” I had a crush on her. Another teen crush not mentioned (as I was hot for her, but her snob attitude and her eventual bowing to young Patrick Dempsey’s nerd got the hot girl, didn’t ring true. For me anyway. But it got me thinking about how short our potential of doing anything can be. If she’d gone to her grave never regretting a single decision she made, that was a full life. The glory days relived on screen…forever. We all want to be immortalized. And there are no compromises once it’s over. Being afraid of life…is what always turns it into a tragedy.

I may never be successful in the way I wanted to be. But, at the very least, I won’t say I didn’t try.