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.
What do we prove with huge houses we can’t afford to pay for or even fill?
We’re all a little crazy; I worry about those who don’t know it
Preview of 2012? Voter landslide in Colorado against new school taxes
Ignore the happy face it presents: Coercive state points a gun at you
I’m drawn to tales of brokenness, rescue and ultimate redemption
A broken heart is devastating, but closing yourself to love is worse
Loving a depressed person means holding tightly on trips through hell
Unexpected phone call can turn world from happy to miserable
Maybe it’s easier to do hard things when nobody says they’re difficult