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.
Practically and legally, it’s true: Good fences make good neighbors
Suicide’s what happens when you can’t find reasons to keep living
Healthy romance features mutual growth, not just ‘take me as I am’
Get over it: There’s no media conspiracy against your beliefs
Why do so many of us stay where we know we’ll remain miserable?
Heart that truly loves is a servant for another’s happiness and peace
Global warming or a new ice age? Anyone who claims to know is lying
So you’ve rescued dogs and cats, but how about a baby elephant?
How terrified would your child self have been of your current adult life?