My Love Affair With Filming

I finally figured it out. What I truly want to do with my life. I mean I had that epiphany this time last year, but it finally feels real. Like this is something I’m truly supposed to be doing. You know how you have that person in your life. Everyone has one, the one person whose always right there. They make you smile in the morning, they cheer you up when your crying. They hold the key to your happiness and you somehow always seem to overlook them. And it’s not because they aren’t important or they mean nothing to you, you’re just always chasing this dream of what love and romance is supposed to be. Then one day you wake up and they’re gone and you suddenly realize it was them all along. That’s what this feels like, without the dreadful feelings of regret.

For so long I thought I was supposed to live my life one way and chase this dream on a center path. I didn’t realize there was something else calling me always there when I felt like no one else was. Something I was always good at. Something that made me smile in the morning and filled me with laughter on my most tearful of days. Writing, creating, pictures, the whole art of cinematography, something I’ve never lived without.

When I was younger I would create these little scenes in my head, about various parts in my life anywhere form the past to the future, and even the present. I would picture my life as if it were some great motion picture based off of so many different things. I would watch so much television, in fact the same seasons or specials so often, that I’d be able to recite a full episodes almost verbatim (thank you Hanny Montany). I could feel the characters and I always thought about where I would take the shows, what I would do differently. What show would I reboot and execute, dare I say better. 

And the writing was like second nature to me. I kept journals here and there, but it was school that really made me like it. My teachers always said I had nice “voice” in my writing. And for so long I never understood what that meant exactly. I figure it must’ve meant I was a good writer, of course that wasn’t quite it. I later learned it meant my writing had feeling, personality. It meant when you read anything I wrote, you’d be able to tell it was mines, in some way it felt like it was originality I guess. But of course the other parts of my writing needed and many times still need work. The notorious GSP, surprisingly tone, my explanations, etc. and learning I needed work really discouraged me. I got so caught up in learning how to write a “proper essay” I forgot how to have fun with my writing. I had to remind myself to just speak from the heart. That I needed to believe what I was writing in the same way I want the reader to believe it when they read it. And of course GSP was fixed with editing ad spellcheck, which meant I needed to stop being so insecure about the things I was saying and be comfortable with criticizing myself (which I’m sure you can tell is still an uphill battle). 

This beautiful path, of what I guess you could call, self discovery brought me to the happiest decision of my life. I was never good at my other choice, I mean I was okay but major components weren’t there and my skills in certain areas were lacking and it made me miserable. To be asked to demonstrate this task or what some would call a “gift” made me very anxious and very resentful. Now when I think about developing a show or being on the lot of a major production company it feels me with so much joy and excitement. The anticipation is like a high, so much so that learning more about the business doesn’t feel like a chore like it did with my other love affair (career choice). Something about this decision just feels right, I feel at peace, at least in this area of my life..



So I live in this house. In this houuse everyone is just balantly disrespectful to one another. The disrespect has gotten so bad I think everyone’s forgotten what it means to be human. There’s no regard for feelings and how sensitive or hurt someone can be and feel. We all walk around insulting each other and hurting each other’s feelings without thinking about how our words and actions will effect them mentally, physically, and emotionally. It’s gotten really bad. And not to mention all the clutter we live in. I mean we don’t live like extreme hoarders or anything, it’s just there’s stuff everywhere. Too many items in my shared bedroom, stack boxes have claimed the basement which is supposed to be my brothers room, and my parents can barely get around their room. The bathrooms I spend a sweaty hour cleaning from top to bottom, and by the end of the next day they’re a complete disaster. There’s old magazines that take up the living room. And the dishes always seem to pile up in the kitchen. The floors are dingy and the carpets are drenched in dog hair. It’s just a mess. Closet are pack to capacity and falling apart. It’s too much, a human being cannot live like this, one cannot thrive in this space. And when I try to say anything and fix it, it becomes this greater problem, this bigger ordeal, than it even needed to be. It’s quite pathetic. I want to take a minimalistic approach to living. If it’s not a necessity in our lives then we don’t need it. If the food is past expiration date throw it out. Stop eating things that aren’t going to benefit your body and help you live a happy, healthy life. My family doesn’t understand the sort of “fung shui” to living. The space we live in the things we put into our bodies, into our minds, effects the way we think, act, feel, and live on a day to day basis. If we it crap, expired food, dead carcasses, and overall junk that’s how we’re feel. We’re going to be sluggish and tired and anxious and angry and all those things because that’s how our food is made when you really think about it (in some sort of existential type of way I guess). If the space we live in cluttered and trashy we’ll feel that way we’ll act that way. The mind will be cluttered, we’ll be on edge constantly. And this is all probably the reason why we treat each other the way we do. The house looks like we don’t give a crap and in return we treat each other like crap. It’s really sad. So whoever you are, reading this, take my advice… Declutter your life, 360 your home, educate yourself about pretty much everything from food to organization. Look into KonMari and eating things that help you live longer and healthier. Reduce your carbon footprint, donate, and rest your mind, body, and soul. Live a meaningful life. So many people so on just occupying space rather than doing something worthwhile on their lives. Don’t be that person. Make a change. Make your house a home. 


Around this time last year I was lonely and sad and just depressed.

I’m different this year. I’m happier. I have better friends. I’m healthier and more motivated than ever been in life. I think I’m in not love, but a very meaningful like. He’s fantastic and he feels it too, I hope, at least I think he does.

Life is just going well. I have days where I still get sad and paranoid that all the bad stuff will come back, but I remind myself to breathe. That I deserve this happiness and good fortune. That I have a right to all the good things that are happening in my life. I remind myself that I’m worthy. I won’t lie there’s been ups and downs, but I’m getting through them and I’m making the best.

I’ve never been happier or felt this way ever. I’m going to bask in the light I’ve been blessed with and be grateful for these days. And hope and look forward to even brighter futures.

You Think You Know

So because your mother has been pregnant damn near 80 times, you think that gives you a right to examine my anatomy.

You think that because your family has been plagued with the curse (in my opinion) of being an unlucky teenage mother, that that somehow allows you to make judgements about my appearance.

See what you don’t know is that your comments and your side-eyed stairs will only make me stronger. They will only drive me to reach my success. They will only push me to be better than you. I will get out. I will become someone. And you, not to be evil but, you will stay no one.

Even as I give you this post, I will not give you the satisfaction of saying you name. I will not allow you to claim me as your victim. No, you see you know who you are, no one else cares.

You have no glory. No importance. You are simple a page in the book all about me. Not even a chapter in my life. Simply a paragraph, that I have grown beyond. When I mention you people will not dwell on what you’ve done, or what you’ve said, or even who you are, no. They will focus on how I overcame. They will ask me how I got through it, and drew strength from it. They will applaud my triumph and congratulate me. They will not think of you. I will no longer think of you. I will rejoice in the success I WILL create for MYSELF and laugh at the destruction you’ll still be surrounded by. I will no longer cry out in pain from the hurt I felt, but cry out in laughter at the karma you have received.

This even goes out to those who tormented my heart and took it for granted. I will breathe easier knowing you missed out on something spectacular. I want to hear how much you’ve tried to reach out and repair what, in hindsight, truly was never broken. The regret you feel for your treatment towards me will give me great pleasure in the mornings. I will make you daily adversities the throne I shall sit upon, in my later years. I will do things and create arts that you will not be capable of resisting, so that I may capitalize off of you in the future. I will then spend “your” money to create a better life and greater happiness for me and my true loved ones. I will make everyone of my dreams come true so you can see the beautiful smile on my face and look away in envy.

I will overcome you all and find my true happiness. Thank you.


July 17th, 2016

Money can buy love. That’s a given. Let’s stop pretending that it can’t. You can buy sex, you can pay someone to pretend to love you. Hell when you get wealthy you never know if people trulylove you for who are or if they simply just love your money. It’s sad but, it’s the world we live in. I don’t know how many times my affection has tried to be bought back. When you know you’ve done something wrong why not just admit to it and apologize. I know I’ve tried buying others affection unknowingly. I think even when you help someone financially, if you expect something in return (non monetary), then that counts too. That makes us a very pathetic society. And what makes it even worst is that we prance around making it such a cliché or calling it a bad thing, when people do it shamelessly, yet we’ve all done it at some point in our lives. I personally don’t care. Buy my love. Give me every dime you have and I will make you feel so loved, you’ll grow sick of love. That being said, of course it depends on who’s buying it. There are still boundaries. Relatives and loved ones should never try to buy your love. They should just do right by you. Anyone else is fair game.