Tools...

Okay it's been a while. You're saying: "Hey the guy gets a new doggie and drops out of sight?" What the hell have I been doing? I'd like to say that I've been very busy. I'd like to say that I've been accomplishing a lot. I'd like to say that I've met the most wonderful girl and we've been on "a tear" these past months. I'd love to say that I've just finished the most wonderful screenplay... But no. None of this has happened. Oh, I have met some wonderful new people. And yes, the dog is just the best friend/animal on the planet. Kind, smart. Attentive. Loving. What a gift.

I am writing two new screenplays... SLOWLY...VERY SLOWLY.

I've been in a bit of a rut. That's life. I'm moving along. Out of it, I hope.

Teaching at the Strasberg Institute now in NYC. A good friend put in a good word and they gave me a shot. Teaching is hard. Teaching screenwriting is harder than hard. Takes me back when I was in college. I was an Economics Major at the time. Entered my first econ math class. I remember the professor saying:

"I'm going to write an problem on the board. If you can't solve it very quickly you are gong to flunk this course. So get up and leave. Drop this course as soon as you can."

And he went on to chalk something that maybe an alien from another planet might understand. So 20 of us non math types (out of a class of 30) got up and ran for the exit.

Looking back the guy was smart. He didn't want to teach something half the class would never understand, so he weeded half the class out. I can't do that. I have 6 students. I have to teach them screenwriting. And I will. But it's hard. I don't believe you can teach someone to write or act well. You can only show them your best tools and they have to take it from there. So, I'm working on my tools. Finding my way. Slowing down. Trying to make myself as clear as I can. I write from someplace else. Don't know where I got my tools... I've always had them. Now I have to share them. Wish me luck.

How Much Is That..?

I week ago I went to work as always. It had been a cold night. I wasn't looking forward to this day. The car wash would be icy. The wind would be at my face the entire day. Monday was a clean up day at the wash. After a busy weekend, things had to be made right again for the coming week. I get there to find the place cleaner then usual. Too cold for folks to come and throw their garbage around. Wait...what's that? A dog? Running loose at a car wash? Must belong to a guy that searches through my dumpster for cans... Wait he's not here. Who does this dog belong too? I ask the few customers there. He doesn't belong to them. I ask the dog, he growls at me. Has he spent the night here? Later I see him laying in the sun. It's cold. I mean, it's cold. Looks to be a Pomeranian. They don't mind the cold so much. But I've got to get him out of here. More customers are coming in and he's growling at them...barking at them.

I call the dog catcher.

The dog catcher comes. Says: "Oh...he's in a bad way. Not an easy grab. You catch him and I'll take him. Otherwise..."

Wait...isn't that his job? To catch the dog? I mean...he's the dog catcher...right?

I go to the corner store and buy a box of small dog treats. I go back and temp the little dog with them. He's starving. Eating them if I give him distance. I try to coax him into a storage room... He's too smart for that. Doesn't like storage rooms. How about my car? (there go my clean car seats) He jumps in to get a treat...I close the door...I've got him. I get in. He gives me a look. An almost grateful look. I pet him. He's not so bad, just cold and scared.

I take him to the CT Humane Society. This dog is not abandoned...he's missing. I tell them the owner will probably be here by nightfall. The humane society won't take a stray dog. "Since when?"

A waitress and a dog lover at a diner up the street says she'll take the dog for a couple of nights until an owner comes.

She has two other dogs.

This little guy goes nuts in her house...bites her husband.

He's out. Back in my car.

I take him to my mother's house where I'm staying for a few days...the dog is an angel at my mother's house... He loves my mother. He loves my brother. He loves my aunt. He loves me.

I put up a sign--"dog found, ask for details..." Nobody asks. Nobody is coming to his rescue. This is the smartest dog I've ever seen. Nobody cares. I decide to keep him...name him Runi... He'll be with me...unless a teary-eyed family comes and asks this dog for his forgiveness...

Where's George Costanza When You Need Him?

I heard someone say the other day: "If everything you do is turning out wrong, then don't do that anymore." I guess it's like the old doctor joke: "Doc, it hurts when I do this..." And the doc replies: "Then don't do that..." It sounds simple enough. Basically if you don't like your life, chance it. Hmmm. It's true that my favorite Seinfeld episode is the one where George Costanza is so fed up with his life that he decides to do the opposite. And it worked!

To do the opposite to what we are used to actually takes work. It feels uncomfortable. I know I want to change for the better. I just have to break through the wall of uncertainty. Like the story of the two unborn babies in the womb. One says: "I can't wait to get out of here..." the other says: "Why? I like it here...three squares and a cot..." the other says: "But there must be a better place than this, I feel so cramped!!! and the other: "But what if in this other place...it's hell...and life is hard and there's less room then this..?" his brother says: "I'll take my chances...I have to grow..."

I have a lot of stories today. But stories are just stories. It's time to make the necessary changes for greater happiness and awareness. I mean, that's why we are here in the first place, isn't it? I should hope so. But I come from a long line of "womb dwellers," so it won't be as easy as I hope it will be. Or maybe it will...I mean, once I take away the excuses. Happy 2010 to all.

Is Someone Watching?

Earlier this year it became clear to me that in a very short time I'd be needing a new car. Mine was clocking 200,000 miles and I was afraid that there would come a day when I'd break down in the middle of nowhere, and the cost would be devastating. I set a goal for replacement by July of this year. Nothing happened. Except I became poorer. August? Nothing.

Then all is a sudden my fan switch went. I only had one speed, and that was "high." I began to look at the new car market. Then "cash for clunkers" came along...but wait...my car wasn't a clunker. September? Nope. October? Forget it.

I was stuck. Winter was coming. My old car wouldn't make it to Spring.

Then in November... A person I knew put a 2004 Red Chevy Cavalier up for sale. $4000? Not bad. (And I do love the color red) New tires, CD player, AC, more pep. "Would you take my old car?" I asked. "Give you $600 for it", they said.
Deal. So I bought the Chevy for $3400. It's like a new car. I'm so happy.

After the last storm I was needing to get myself a new snow shovel. I had let a friend use mine. I went to work soon after and found someone had left a brand new snow shovel behind. A heavy duty one. Expensive. I put it aside, but nobody came for it. A brand new shovel. Hmmmm.

My brother needed an ice scraper for his car. I bought myself a new snazzy one on a stick and extended itself, with a brush on the other end. I wanted my brother to have one. I offered to buy him one, but he was stubborn about it. I let it go. A few days later someone left a brand new one for me. Exactly the same as the one I had. Where did it come from? And the shovel, and the inexpensive car? I just asked...and... Coincidence? I guess so.

A friend of mine just moved into a new apt. in NYC near me. He doesn't have a car, but his rent came with a parking spot. So he gave it to me. I now have my own place to park in NYC.

Let me tell you, I hated parking in the street!

It's true that these happenings are small things. But...is somebody watching? Does somebody actually care what happens to me?

Maybe it's me. Maybe I care. Maybe I'm loosening up finally. Believing that I deserve these things, and that life shouldn't be so hard. That perhaps I am worth some divine help. (Whatever that means) Maybe there is a Santa Claus, or a higher being watching over me, even if that higher being is slowly becoming me.

It's time to shed the words: "Life's a bitch and then you die". And replace them with: "Life's easy and then you move on to the next life and it's a vacation!" Sound crazy? Yeah. But it could be my 2010. I'll keep you posted.

Rebuilding The Brain For Success...

I watched an interesting show on CNN the other night that dealt with "life after death." What was so interesting to me was not the topic of the show, but a comment made by one of its panelists, namely Deepak Chopra. He was arguing with a "skeptic" about the man's inability to process the concept of "life after death" by saying: "A kitten raised in a horizontal room will think the world is horizontal, and a kitten raised in a vertical room will only see the world as vertical." This wasn't the kitten's opinion, but the way the kitten's brain was formed from his learning experience. To change his thoughts of the world, the kitten would have to do nothing less than change the configuration of his brain. No shit...

Those that have dabbled with the book "The Secret" know that it is basically telling you the same thing: Change the way you think, and you will see the world differently, perhaps for the better if you choose to. Well I am here to say it's easier said then done. I sometimes feel my brain configuration has been dipped in epoxy and "there ain't no way I'm gonna change it." But I'm trying. Trying to feel more positive about my life in this world and what I do in it. Trying to free myself up to the fact that I should actually be making a lot more money for what I do. Trying to give myself permission to be successful, to be in love... I do not sabotage, but I tent to lose focus...

????

(what was I saying?)

No wonder a good number of people hate each other... This guy wasn't in my room... His culture wasn't there anyway...so it can't be right... All these things--this religion, that color..those sounds...they weren't in my room...when my brain configuration was being constructed--you know, so...what's it doing in my world now??? That kind of woman? She wasn't in my room, why should--could--she be there now???

This year has to be different... It has to be. I'm trying to change those horizontal and vertical lines into some sort of successful plaid. Or maybe my new room won't have any walls... maybe rubber walls... I don't know... I don't... But a change...she's a coming... 2010 can't come fast enough...2012...???? Now that's another story...

Time and The Wizard Of Oz...

Okay so The Wizard Of Oz is 70 this year. Where'd the time go? Ahh, that is the question my dear Watson. Time. Is it real? Time that is. As in what's on the face of that clock? Minutes? Seconds? Hours? Pages of a calender ripped away as years slip by. As a child I remember some Christmas Eve nights lasting what seemed like an eternity.

In the film, Dorothy travels to Oz and it takes about an hour and thirty minutes or so. And yet to her film family in Kansas, she's only been out for a moment. Like our sleep. We dream what seems to be a lifetime and then we wake and realize that we've only been unconscious for a relatively short time. (there's that word again...conscious...I'm not planning this)

You know Edgar Cayce thought that our lives where taking place in a split second and our brains were so underdeveloped, it stretched the time out to what we know as "a lifetime." Think of that. Everything a person goes through in life: birth, school, dating, marriage, children, business success...or failure...sickness...death...to some folks way of thinking is only going on for a split second. Einstein thought the same way.

I know that sometimes I stop and think. Wow, where'd the time go? Just yesterday...my father was alive...I got my first bike...just yesterday...I was in collage. Just yesterday...and I was in that relationship...

Then there's the masquerade party. The scenery changes. Friends get gray and fat or bald or...(fill in the blank) And me, (Is that me now in the mirror?) I'm stiffer and move slower...perhaps a bit bent over...are my bones changing? My face? Hmmm. Where'd the time go? And this problem that's on my mind...that I've been recently worrying about? Only worth a fraction of my time compared to the rest of my life? You think? Like Dorothy's trip to Munchkinland...just a minute of time.

The older one gets, the faster times travels...why? Maybe for a good reason. My god, 2009 came and went rather quickly...didn't it?

Weekends At Bellevue...

Come September every year I get punched in the gut by life. August is a great month and everyone around me seems to be in a great mood. People are on vacation, enjoying the great weather here in the North East. I, like everyone else, get swept up in all the excitement. Then September comes and BAM! Something happens. All the air in my mid section leaves. My head starts to hurt. And more times then not, I'm reaching for the aspirin bottle. Why?

Friday afternoon I'm driving to my mother's house as I do most weekends. I have the car radio on and this doctor, Julie Holland, is explaining some of the sections of her new book, "Weekends At Bellevue." She means the hospital. Ms. Holland is smart, but not too smart for a modest guy like me to understand. Her voice comes across the radio waves quite well and in a matter of seconds, I'm out...hypnotized right into the subconscious. (so who is driving the car?) Then it hits me...wait...I spend my weekends in Bellevue!!!

The street I was raised on is called Bellevue Avenue. Go figure. And being the struggling writer that I am, I also (to supplement my income) help run the family business in Connecticut. It's a self service car wash my father bought back in 1971. When in Connecticut, I usually stay on Bellevue Avenue. But what does this have to do with me being punched in the gut by life in September?

Well as doctor Holland explained; "...With seasonal changes and loss of sunlight, more people get depressed in the winter months."

Ah, Seasonal Affective Disorder or S.A.D. And I plunge into depression.

I always thought I was thinking back to my younger years and dreading the end of summer vacation...(comes in September right?) I thought the feeling in my gut was a carry over from the hatred of school. (dyslexic remember?) But no, it comes down to sunlight. We need sunlight just as our plants do. As our cats do. As every other living thing does. I hate the beach, but this isn't about collecting sand. It's about collection sunlight...on your head...through your eye sockets...like the ENERGIZER BUNNY...we need to be charged up. We need SUNLIGHT! Or we will die.

I work in the sunlight, and I love it. It's funny but I write in the dark however, figure that one out. My imagination must like that setting better. But when the springtime comes, it's like a shot in the arm for me. My future suddenly looks bright. My birthday is in April. Women in NYC shed those heavy clothes. We come out of our caves. The chances of my car wash freezing solid are almost nil. Ah, life is good.

Tonight I write in the darkness of my Bellevue Avenue cellar. I foot of snow is scheduled to fall across the region. I haven't a clue where my snow shovels are, or my windshield scrapper for that matter. It's time to hunker down... It's time to buck up and bear it... There's no crying in winter time... My father used to say to me as a boy standing frozen next to him... "You're not cold...you just think you're cold..." I didn't know at the time it was all about the sun. If I did, I'd probably say a little prayer like this...

"Oh Mr. Sun...come back around...don't forget that I am here...waiting...my eyes closed...my smothered hair...my scarf wrapped tight...my glove hidden fingers gasping for your warm air...waiting for the triumphant return...of your full force...don't forget me...I need you...