Sunday, October 16, 2011

Tuesday, September 13, 2011

Somehow I frequently end up using odd items for bookmarks. Most fitting right now: Seven blades of grass for Annie Dillard's The Writing Life.

Saturday, August 27, 2011

Monday, August 22, 2011

The mug I'm drinking from today says, ''My Dad is the Best!'' Yep. I happen to agree.
Self-discipline has its moments of startling beauty.

Monday, August 01, 2011

A black act just crossed on the sidewalk in front of me. Big, beautiful and black. Well, at least my day's been wonderful so far.

Tuesday, July 26, 2011

You're Here (Grateful Tuesdays #27)



Thank you for:
Beautiful, true performances.
Beautiful, observant, *sightful* shooting.
Follow shots.
Editing.
Luxury in editing.
Sofia Coppola.

My trembling heart.

Tuesday, June 07, 2011

Which of my three beds should I sleep in tonight?
is comforted by the familiar.
God's changing me a lot. I feel I'm in a stage of life where things I assumed would always be a part of who I am may not be so.

Monday, May 30, 2011

Sunday, May 01, 2011

My dad shined my shoes without me knowing it! First shine on my favorite pair of shoes. Thank you, Dad!

Thursday, April 14, 2011

Tuesday, March 22, 2011

Why does my left knee hurt so much? All I've been doing for the past few days is lying in bed.

Thursday, February 10, 2011

A good, good day. Today was full of friends. I felt loved.
It will have been nice regardless.
got to see many friends downtown today! If I survive tonight, this will have been a very nice day.

Saturday, February 05, 2011

The other day I got to just sit and talk with my sister. I was in the middle of something, and she was on her way to something, but things went into to slow motion for a bit, and it was nice. I don't spend as much time with anyone in my family as I'd like to, and sometimes it seems like people you are around the most are the most difficult to open up to, so those factors are what went into making it nice I suppose.

Thursday, February 03, 2011

Be Thou My Vision

Right now, I'm writing a story, a framework for a screenplay. I'm fighting the entire time against the instinct to shun any elements that I feel like I've seen before.

I love original work, I love the filmmakers that reach for the heavens, so much so I give a free pass to those who only make it to the clouds.

But I don't feel like trying to be original is what gets you there. Originality for it's own sake deadly, no, worse, it's tedious.

But here I come, time and time again, horrified at the prospect of my work being received as "unoriginal."

Writing from my insecurities is always a very dangerous temptation for me.

But great writing, as far as I can tell, doesn't come from looking over your shoulder every five seconds to see what "they" think of you. It comes from a clear head and clear vision. Originality will come, I believe that. But not if I call for it. It's a byproduct, and it knows that. It's modesty, humility, will not allow it to take the place of storytelling, art-making's true king: Truth.

I feel very pretentious writing that sentence. But I believe it; I have to. I would wither up if my art was to aim for something else, mainly because there is nothing else.

Anthropomorphism is a Joy


The "Sad" Bookshelf

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And for free, this wonderful image from the same site:


Sunday, January 30, 2011

Thursday, January 13, 2011

Aw, how sweet.

Apparently Facebook is very concerned that I don't have a girlfriend.
Look out, Yenta: You've met your match.