There’s a building not far from my house that takes me back to December of 2004 each time I drive past. It’s not a good memory, but rather one that still gives me shivers eight and a half years later.
It’s the memory of a night I suddenly couldn’t remember what I was doing and freaked out as I tried to do my job.
We were close to finishing the first day of shooting for my short film, “We’re the Government — and You’re Not.” Even though I didn’t really know what I was doing, I was the writer and director, and I was sharing the producer duties. I honestly didn’t know until that day just how little I knew.
Even though the day had been a blur, things had generally gone well except for my car having a flat tire at the next-to-last shooting location of the day. (I rode around on the little “doughnut spare” all weekend because I didn’t have time to fix the tire.) I was waiting for one last prop to come in the mail. It was days late, but we thought it would be there. I ran to my house and it wasn’t there — and it was time to shoot the scene. I didn’t have a back-up plan.
Family seemed perfectly typical, but I felt envious of their lives
Obama’s delusion about ‘explaining’ illustrates all-too-common narcissism
The Cain Train becomes train wreck when candidate has to think on feet
Rhetoric about freedom means nothing without right to secede
We all see bits and pieces of reality; not a one of us sees whole picture
AUDIO: If we’ve experienced hurt, why do we keep trusting in love?
Laughing at the ‘rapture cult’? Those who believe in the state are no different
What if our craving for dopamine drives our desires and addictions?