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.
Cult’s targeting of family funeral points to folly of speaking for God
As world descends into madness, back away and guard your heart
Social creatures: We heal each other, but start dying when alone
Brutal truth is that we will never be able to fix all of world’s evils
A year later, my father’s death looms large, but I have no regrets
What kind of person are you if there’s not a word to define you?
AUDIO: Spark between two hearts can be beautiful mystery of love
Try a new game: Make others smile — and let yourself smile with them
My life will matter only if I can show love and meaning to others