You're No Better Than Them

A friend recommended a book that has opened my eyes a little about accountability.
Mostly, in today's world, no one takes the blame for anything ever.
Or they apologize but give excuses. The janitor at my work for example. Another was this guy I work with who is convinced he is right about this one thing, but he is painfully wrong. You want to shake the shit out of people like this. But it really does no good. A person like this will justify his dumb behavior. As will people with will "never get it."
There is a guy at work who, always perceives what you are saying wrong. In other words, he can't interpret for shit. Perhaps it's a sting to my own ego as maybe I'm not explaining my position well, but he is a passive aggressive person. Those are the worst, by the way. Say what you mean, asshat.
Though he is insincerely nice (Mom fucked him up), he has a deep anger that rages on the peripheral, and quite frankly, the first person I'd expect to rage on society. Though his only saving grace is that he is boisterous. Loud people don't murder. Quiet ones do, which there are a lot of at my work as well. And they frighten me more.

The book also explains how little by little we are guided into (manipulated) into our own mindset. I started out as a bleeding heart Leftists. And a classic Liberal. The more I listened to a Leftist city like Los Angeles, the more I realized I was bamboozled into false reality. The, supposed, good willed people of the Left thought they are the "good guys." In reality, they are enablers and they can justify their behavior by hiding behind this shield. This is a Trojan Horse theory. When I started seeing the corruption from the entertainment industry and the hypocrisy, I checked out. Conversely, the Right is no better. Bible conservatives are the most despicable. Guilt pushing people to donate to save their souls while living in the lap of luxury Jesus himself would be ashamed of. These people have zero shame. Vote Trump and want to hide their ill gotten money. Yet, blame entertainment on the breakdown of society. If anything, these two should (and do) work together.

The issue is that you may not think you cannot be manipulated. But the smartest and the ones with the most street smarts have been. Look at the thing in your hand right now. Cell phone, smart phone, whatever. This is a device used to keep you tethered. Whether that information is useful to whomever isn't relevant, what is is that they listen to every conversation. Yes, folks...we have bugged ourselves...voluntarily. For others to use this info to extract behavior.
Many people assume there is nothing they can get that is of value from you. Information is power. The power to regulate your life. For instance, health care. Or insurance. Or anything that keeps the ones at top living comfortably while we just exist. Fine, if you have no ambition any further in life but to work and die.
My point being, if you want to enrich your life, be honest with yourself in how you perceive things. And how things honestly went down. When I got into my accident, I knew for certain the other guy had run a red light (since he likely thought at that hour no one would be out). It took a while for him to admit wrong doing. And luckily he was honest. There are too many people who think being dishonest saves their hide. Self preservation is a strong motivator. However, if you have to live with yourself, then you are living with a person you will learn to hate. That U.S. Ambassador's wife in the U.K. who murdered a kid on a bike needs to go back there and face the music.

Money Isn't Everything

I would say, a person who is really focused on making money can do it.
And if that is your goal in life, then I'm envious of the simplicity of it.
It does take hard work, and focus. Other than that, it's not difficult.
In order to do so, a lot has to change.
You will lose a lot of genuine friends. I say genuine because you will never know if it's having a LOT of money or it's really you.
The other thing is spending most of your time monitoring it and protecting it. A lot of time spent driving yourself for every cent.
Also, you will lost friends simply because having friends means spending money. You won't do that, if money is your goal.
You'll also lose relationships, because you will spend money on your significant other. Birthdays and anniversaries. They also come with relatives. Time spent at holidays and such take traveling. Traveling is money. Get rid of those and you will save money.
You will also forgo entertainment. The single biggest waster of money. Whether it be movies, traveling, ...I'll just say life experiences. Nothing thrilling. All you do to save and make money is to remain boarded up at home. Because eating well costs, as does living decently. Nothing frivolous.
These are all sacrifices for something that is suppose to bring you joy. Or at least buy it.
When I got my first adult paycheck (not for doing adult movies, dummies, I mean one where the check was stamped) I wanted to buy a house. It wasn't that I could buy a house with one measly paycheck, it was that I could think about it seriously.
But you know, as much as it is of an investment to own property, you don't really own it. Owning it means you never pay property tax. It belongs to the bank forever. Those guys know how to make money by using your money. Anyway, it occurred to me looking back now, that a house is also a money pit. Everything in a house is not cheap. Though most of us don't think in those terms. If there is a roof over your family's head, it's all worth it (as my Dad can attest). To me...it's money pouring out like water through a sieve. And it never ends. Because money is fluid. It always exchanges hands on a daily basis. Electronically or otherwise.
To me, this is not worth it. Ever. Because, when you die, none of it matters. All that you saved and scratched and focused on to obtain more of the green stuff means nothing. In death, that is as useful as a bag of dirt to a dehydrated person in the desert.
That is not to say, spend money as for tomorrow you may be dead. Being responsible also means shifting your money around so you are comfortable in life. Especially as every day, the older you get, the more you want less hassles. And that's what having money alleviates.
We are all so fearful of losing it or not having enough.
I think this is wrong thinking. I think you need to say that having the control of your standards of contentment means much more than having a stockpile of dollars.
Don't live beyond what you feel comfortable at. Also, don't be the person who finds themselves missing out on things because something inanimate guides you.
As you can see in the world today, religion and money guides too many people. And it's always in the service of being miserable.
Instead, provide for the people you care about (even if it is only yourself) with comfort.

You Cannot Take It With You

The single most destructive thing that will always kill you from the center out is pride which is linked to ego.
There's a janitor that works at our office who made a really dumb mistake of mopping around sensitive hardware. He hit the hardware and the system went down. Which is when I proceeded to get upset with him. Obviously this damaged his ego. Since he went into defensive mode. The situation fixes itself simply for the guy to apologize for the mistake and move on. Instead, he refused, and that is my pet peeve.

While we were casual friends then, the guy won't really speak to me anymore. Guess what? There is a reason why you'll always be a janitor.

I know this because I battle this myself. Holding a grudge towards someone is dumb. I do it and have done my best to change this. Not that I need to reach out, but I quickly drop the anger or resentment or whatever. It does no adult any good to hold onto this and you only take it with you to the grave. Don't. Learn to keep your ego and pride at bay. Or better yet, destroy it.
I have a co-worker who is brilliant at that. He is over 50. Probably will die of a heart attack because he is the exact opposite. He doesn't allow people screaming at him to get to him (or so he says, most likely squashes it down into a ball in his gut). Though I've screamed things at him in a temper tantrum, he hasn't held it against me. I've discovered he's learned defense mechanism through his mother who was abusive.

I'm not sure what the good middle ground is but I'll tell you this, the janitor who holds on to his anger and ego bruised resentment towards me hasn't guided my life in the least. For the occasional dirty look or silence, I've continued onto my other endeavors in life. See, a lot of the ego is that their absence or silence will result in your world crumbling. That's laughable. But it does feed into their narcissism. To me, I took a lesson in what ego and pride can do. It keeps you working as a janitor at a place where you get screamed at for doing dumb things. It also occurred to me now, that the powers that are in charge (all not within his ethnicity) most likely treat him this way on a daily basis, and now, in his mind, he believes I see him in the same subservient position. I won't lie and tell you that I don't. Only because I've done this job (as a work study job at college, which is the single worse experience of janitorial work you can do, TRUST ME ON THIS) and realize it is real work, but at the same time, if I were to not show up, no one would notice, as someone else can easily do it.
To me, the ego/pride has kept him in this world for...most likely, the remainder of his life.
The two options we have are, use the resentment to fuel your life or use it to burn it all down.
It's truly up to you.

In The Twisted Metal

The car slammed with such a force the rear driver side caved in and a piece of the door's frame shot out and pierced his thigh. A car had run the intersection light and nearly bisected his own SUV.

Boyd looked at his leg, mesmerized at how a rusted piece of metal could go so deep and through without blood pouring. The paramedics would later tell him that it missed nearly all blood vessels and punctured not a vein and went through muscle. Boyd would recall his biology class where they had to dissect a frog and he remembered where the hunk of steel had gone between tendons.
What luck.

Boyd gasped for air and stared up at the bloody pulp which was the other driver's face. It had launched through his windshield with such force the glass caved in but cobwebbed into his cabin. The man was young. A neck tattoo was the first identifying mark that it was even a human face. Though the glass had already carved gashes in its face. A faint breathing came from what was once a nostril. The eyeball drooped low but laid pressed to the glass. He saw something glitter against the web pattern and later remembered it as teeth. Broken from impact which grinned like a jack o' lantern. The face sucked in air, as Boyd watch it slowly take its last breath. The face had expired.
There.
Right next to his own face.

The impact was so sudden he didn't have time to realize all the change in his ashtray was scattered. Boyd struggled over to pick up a quarter. With pained effort, he flat-ended the change and pressed it against the jagged metal pole that stuck out from his leg for leverage. Nothing. It would not budge. There it stuck. And there it remained.

He heard some voices outside his car. Boyd caught a glimpse of his left ring finger bent back awkwardly. Relieved that his marriage band was still there.

"oh my god!" he heard muffled voices.
"Call someone!"

And it was late at night. Or was it early morning. Time froze at that point. Boyd replayed the accident over and over again. Yes, the dead body ran a light. But where did it need to go? Were people expecting him? That neck tattoo would most likely come in handy now. He laughed to himself. Anything to take his mind off his own condition. Sickened a little that he had survived where another had died.

Then he heard the familiar voice.
"Oh my god Boyd!"
It may have felt time slowed during impact but after a catastrophic accident, time doesn't make sense...
it was his girlfriend Paige.
A buxom brunette with sad clown eyes peered through the wreckage. Her mouth contorted to a look of absolute horror. Paige. A pretty girl with a pretty name. He could smell her shampoo from here. Lilac summer and lavender. It comforted him. The warmth of that scent. Feminine.

Boyd could hardly speak. The steering wheel was jammed against his chest. And he was gasping for air. Slowly as to maintain oxygen flow. Something he learned during trauma, is to not panic. Thank you Boy Scouts.
But it didn't matter much as he felt like a blob of jelly at this moment. Every bone ached as the brain began to scale back on adrenaline. Something on the floor had had his most attention. The focus most likely saved his life. His phone laid open. He loved vintage flip phones. It was open and it had autodialed Paige. He concluded that it must have been the impact that did so. He wasn't about to look a miracle in the mouth.
Slowly the fire department pried the door from it's hinges. A crowd of homeless had gathered next to a few drivers that stopped to gawk at the corpse from the other car, now impaled in his windshield.
Boyd felt something warm go down his leg, a blood trail began a dripping puddle beneath him and he felt faint.
The EMT got in his face "Stay awake...you cannot pass out...we'll get you out soon"
The firemen edged into the crushed metal and deftly removed the door. Boyd collapsed into the EMT's arms. They hurriedly fastened him to the gurney. Secured his neck. They had left the trimmed metal in his leg as the pressure was the only thing keeping him from bleeding out. Along the short distance, Stephanie looked down from her crystal green eyes "it's okay honey. I'll wait for you at the hospital. I love you."
Boyd had no voice to speak. Had no energy to do so regardless.
Once in the ambulance, the EMT that talked him through his consciousness hooked up an IV.
"You know where you are?" Yes.
"You know who you are?" Yes.
"What day is it?" Sunday
And so it went.
They seemed to have relaxed once the siren blasted on.
The guardian angel EMT patted Boyd on the shoulder "brother, this is your lucky day. Someone was watching over you."

It's not their fault they didn't know.

The secret that died in that twisted car.

Boyd was on his way to murder Paige. Earlier that day he had accidentally switched phones with her and received a phone call from one of her lovers.
One of them. Out of many.
As Boyd searched her contacts, the more men's names popped up. None of which he was familiar with in the 10 years they had been married.
The very same phone that autodialed his number.
Drugs will later make him forget that he felt the cosmic universe speaking to him as the odds of the phone calling her to alert her of his accident. That this may have meant they were meant to be together forever. Though she may have thought it was some other lover.

Or the fact that she had his phone and felt a sense of fear once she realized he had her phone. Flip phones. Who could tell back then?
It most definitely made him forget the murderous rage he felt the instant he realized how short life is and how quickly it could be taken away.
Flip phones...
...

Influencers

In the world of social media, influencers are paid to advertise their gear.
In laymen's term, they are a billboard for a product or event.
They "influence" people to buy or do something.
I laughed at this at first, but last night I found out a young man purchased a $9,000 camera because he had seen that I had one. Or at least used one. Then there is a person on YouTube who told me he was shooting his thesis on film because he had researched film shooting and saw one of my films online.

I would say, be very very careful how you present yourselves. In this case, I'm incredibly flattered anyone would dive that deep. On the other hand, there are also a lot of factors to consider. Such as, making films on film takes a different breed. Both these guys are in their 20's. I welcome this simply because they are our future filmmakers and the more we get of them, the more we make it survive.

HOWEVER, especially for women, sometimes what you put out there (especially sexy thick delicious bodacious bodies glistening in the sun) are gawked at by dirty sweaty perverts (such as myself). And you could create future "incels" who can't possibly find a woman as delectable as you. Unless you stalk them which is a crime. So don't. Stay in your basement. Or in L.A., you're studio apartment and spank it.

That said, and to be honest, make decisions after you done research. And post so that it is pretty innocuous. Sometimes I do wonder about my posts. Not because it jeopardizes my future as I strive to be...simple. But because I don't want to get people in trouble in the end.
There is a great responsibility to take on the responsibility of others. I'm not so sure people really understand that.

The Writer

I applaud every writer who has made it their career to write.
Honestly, you are the best thing in the business, and also the craziest next to the lead actress.
But I don't think a writer's contribution to the movie industry has ever been given credit.
I have a few theories...
perhaps it's that they look disheveled and mousy...
or it's because, as they say...talk is cheap. And that the actor will make anything work (so wrong).
The reality is probably in the middle.
Writers are seen as nerds who earn money to buy their nerd toys. And it doesn't take much, so there.
Is what those dumbshits in Hollywood think.
Without writers, they don't exist. The thought of writing, and physically writing is simple. Yeah, I can pound on my keyboard for three days straight and come up with a screenplay, but it doesn't follow any structure (though I think a lot of movies were made this way..."Three Billboards..." comes to mind).
Any way, I do write, and it sucks. Sucks in that sense in that I constantly have to give the main character peril. And sucks because my grammar sucks (English is second language). But mostly sucks because, above all...it must be done alone.
Though there are dual writers in this industry, very few can function like this (unless you're married or brothers. Or in Wachowski sense...sisters).
A LOT of people think writing is easy. Most, if they were to hear your pitch, have really bad input. It's not their fault, because if you imagine people who critique movies, a lot always say what they would do different. Also, people who watch a lot of movies...sometimes mistake the fact that they can write.
They cannot.
Film fans are the single most irritating people when it comes to writers. Or writers who want input. Though they can sense what a good movie is. In this day, most like movies for the wrong reasons. They can't articulate what it lacks (neither can you at this point, is the problem). So they offer suggestions that cannot help your script. Or derail it.
In some cases, they will jog your mind into a different direction.
It's your fault for asking.
The point being is that writers aren't given enough credit. Though I see it changing. The powers that be are on their social justice rants in awards shows now. Which leave very little time to thank the person who put the words in your mouth (notice how dumb stars sound without a script?).
Give writers love.

Greta Thunberg

A lot is going to be said about this 16 year old impassioned speech to the United Nations about the state of the environment. Mostly how bold she is to speak like that to the adults of the world. And the leaders. Let's be honest, she is a tool of the Left.
I've done plenty for the environment, starting with recycling, drinking from the same plastic cup for a week (if not longer), not driving, flying once a year and so forth. A lot. And I do mentally do these things. For this piece of shit kid to tell me that I robbed her of her future (or at least the leaders did) well, be more fucking specific, idiot.
How about calling out the countries who are the biggest offenders, if you had a spine. You can't because you are parroting other derailed idiots. Put the blame where blame belongs. To countries who could give two fucks what a 16 year old thinks. Seriously, this is the biggest display of western arrogance I've ever witnessed. To point a finger at us. Girl, go fuck yourself.
But she doesn't really understand much of the common sense side. She's on the Asperger's spectrum. While mostly book smart, she is mentally not people smart.
And with that, she is being used as the perfect weapon. To criticize this person is to "attack" a child." How devious was this planned perpetrated by the parents who most likely took a payout. Let's start by investigating that. Taking advantage of a mentally ill child.

She is the David Hogg of this time. Even looks like him. An unfortunate puppet of the agenda. Which is all theater when it comes to the people she is addressing.

I will admit this, Trump's dismissive tweet to belittle her is pretty cruel:

"She seems like a very happy young girl looking forward to a bright and wonderful future. So nice to see!" President Donald Trump

It's mocking her deranged state. And overreaction.

Anyway, watch her speech. I actually blurted out laughing because I thought everything she said was beyond theatrical. Bad performance. But entertaining. If the Left were clever, they'd use this as a meme or at least a mockable clip similar to...Tommy Wiseau's cinema. Saturday Night Live should have a field day.
But they won't. Because they're not that fun anymore.