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I had planned to take some time this morning to write a proper post, full of reflection, introspection, thoughts for the future, and so forth.  I’ve kinda let that time slip away, working on a few little bits for the Fuel empire, keeping up with Facebook, and tinkering with the blog itself.  Maybe I’ll find time later?

So I’m 41 now.  Not much of a blogger, though I stoutly declare that I am still very much a blogger at heart.  1258 posts!  Most of which you can’t get at anymore – I archived them.  I think in print sometimes.  I’m certainly deep in a blog-worthy life.  Marjorie and I are expecting our twosome to become a threesome in just… eleven weeks!  And New York really is the center of the universe – you can feel it all out there, spiraling around us.

The Chaos team recently returned from the Banff World Media Festival – you can read a bit about our adventure here.  As much as we like to tell ourselves how awesome we are, it’s still a little unnerving to immerse yourself amongst the kings & queens of the industry and come out feeling like you’re absolutely right.  I mean, ego is one thing, and we always qualify our braggadocio with the knowledge that we have yet to see our work on television, but… nevertheless… we work hard and it shows.  The network (and/or studio) that jumps in bed with us is going to be happy they did.  Sure we have a lot to learn, but our creativity, our drive for perfection, and our ability to collaborate makes us a bit of a dream team, if I do say so myself.

Anyway.  A year ago this moment I was headed to Central Park for a picnic with the New York contingent arranged by Marjorie.  Her plan was to send us fellas on a fabulous scavenger hunt all over town, culminating in a birthday feast.  Her plan went flawlessly and we discovered many new and exciting spots to raise a pint.  Once we’d reached the finish line, however, I put my own plan into action and proposed.  She said yes.  We got married three months later.  A whirlwind, yes, but such is my life.  Now, one year on, she’s glowingly pregnant and we could not possibly be happier (unless it involved bags of money).

We went to our first prenatal class last night – three hours flew by.  We have a couple drawers filling up with baby clothes.  I dream almost exclusively about the birthing process.  I smile when I see the antics of little girls on the subway.  We debate the merits of various classic children’s books.  We ruthlessly dissect the feature sets and quality of strollers.  We are baby crazy.

The company has dug in and got serious about building a many-tentacled empire.  We are still working diligently on phasing out the mom & pop aspects, but we have goals and we are on the path to reaching them.  The day is in sight when the company operates like a company, and we can focus less on the how and more on the why.  And then it’s all fun.  My own mindset has shifted fundamentally in the last year.  I’m no longer content to come along for the ride and play Captain Supportive.  I’ve recognized that I’m needed at the wheel sometimes, whether it’s asked for or not, and I don’t hesitate to throw my shoulder in.  I won’t say there’s a discreet sense of “it’s about time” from the team, but I do feel it’s appreciated.  Which is good, because I don’t feel I’ve mastered the necessary tact yet.  Better to get out and push than ask if anyone would mind.

So.  Chaos.  We now have The Million Dollar Rolodex.  We met with top shelf execs from Warner Bros, AMC and NBC Universal Cable.  We also met with others.  I say it that way because these were the ones who seemed most excited about where we were driving.  The others seemed either intimidated or helpless.  There is a sense that the industry wants Story and Stars.  And why not?  What good reason could there be to vary from the very simple formula?  Well, not counting the appeal of reality tv, which costs (comparatively) almost nothing to shoot and can be brand-driven out the yin-yang.  When we show up and extoll the virtues of an admittedly radical shift in how tv works, and then get into the story (which is very good, btw, and would stand just fine on its own), execs can be forgiven for arching their eyebrows and looking for the nearest exit.  If they can get past that first panic attack, then their eyebrows keep climbing.  They start writing things down.  They start asking questions.  That’s our favorite part.

Didn’t I say I was pressed for time today?  Yes.  Yes I did.  I’m going to try to come back later… probably tomorrow… and chat some more.  For now, well, New York calls.  Lee and I have some story to write, and then a few of us are going to go see Empire.  I’ll see if I can’t take some pictures for posterity.

In 2003 I wrote a bullet list of who I was. I avoided any preconception or structure. It was just an exercise to see what came out, without any agenda of influencing perception. That’s where blogging was at the time, like pirate radio a decade before that, and podcasting a decade after. Exploring. Throwing your voice into the dark to see what would come back. It was probably 50 lines or so. Took me three hours.

My blog is ten years old now, and many times along the way I’ve wanted to tackle that exercise again. Somehow, despite all sorts of noteworthy milestones, I’ve never gotten around to it. Maybe it takes this long to highlight the contrast. Maybe a milestone like 40 is too much to resist.

• I’m 40. 41 in a few months. I wonder what all the fuss is about 40. Seems like no biggie to me.
• Interestingly I still weigh the same, but the body shape has improved. Well, the flat belly still eludes me.
• It’s true that the body takes longer to recover as you get older. Hangovers are a day or even two lost where it used to be a morning headache if that. But I still only get a cold once a year or so, and my health continues to defy all conventional wisdom. I thank bacon.
• Seems like every time I post, I mention how infrequently I post. Usually I really am too busy. If not with work then with maintaining the rest of my life. Blogging seems an indulgence I can rarely justify.
• I still take pictures. Turns out it did lead to a career. I don’t manage to take the camera for a walk nearly often enough, though. I do miss that.
• The dj thing also contributed heavily to making this career possible. So there, Mom. But I don’t miss it. Mostly.
• I wear glasses now, because things at a distance are a touch blurry and that’s not acceptable for a director of photography. I also wear them because I look damn good in them.
• I’m a director of photography. And my incessant sketching in elementary school lead me here. Screw you, math. I’m also a sound designer. In elementary school I did all my own sound effects. Screw you, math.
• I live in New York City, which is just a notch more intense than Victoria. I love it here. I am where I need to be.
• On any given day I might be lighting a set or operating a video camera, or a steadicam rig, or yes, a stills cam. Or I might be in post, mixing or sound designing. Or I might be creating graphics for video or print. For a while I actually created music, but the production schedule is way too packed. Now I use music straight from Universal. Sometimes I’m tinkering with code on the web. Sometimes I work on copy for the company. Speaking of writing…
• My writing partners and I work under the banner Chaos Complex. We are committed. Despite already murderous schedules, we carve out 9 hours or so each week to collaborate online, and the stuff we write is pretty damned engaging. We have a completed pilot script, first season arc, and bible for a TV show about a guy in New York trying to scratch back into acting, two decades after spectacularly melting down as a spoiled child star. But that’s only half of it. It’s good, and it will change the way you watch TV. That’s not hyperbole. We also have a feature about a writer and a hitman. And another TV show, a political action thriller about two sides of the same coin – and that’s all I should say about that. And yes, we have a really ambitious idea for zombies. We are prolific. We make us laugh. We give us chills. And, more importantly, others too.
• I have no trouble believing in our direction. We’re good. We’re going to make movies. This is the last job I’ll ever have.
• I do lie awake at night worrying about the studio system. By all accounts it’s broken. Artistic vision is getting butchered, processed, and sold slice by homogenous slice. “Innovate as little as possible” is the maxim of the automobile, music, and motion picture industries. It’s not about giving people what they want – it’s about giving them more of what they’ve already shown they’ll pay money for. Stay on the path where it’s safe. This is not something I am especially good at, so… yeah… sometimes I lie awake at night.
• Then again, wait til they get a load of this guy.
• I am not overburdened with modesty. I think it’s okay to know you’re good at something so long as you never let it make you complacent. Cocky is good, I reckon. Arrogance, not so much. There are legions waiting to take your place.
• I want to write a book. Books.
• I have a bit more gray hair than I did ten years ago. A bit less hair overall.
• I am closer to my sister and to my parents now. Still not as close as I would like. I adore my nephews Liam and Wyatt, and I want very much to be a bigger part of their lives. The Taverners are still exploring the Family thing. It’s coming along. Retirement has helped.
• I wrote the original 2003 post on a Windows PC. I built one more PC after that. Since that one exploded (not hyperbole) I have been exclusively and cheerfully Mac. Mac Mac Mac. Mac Mac Apple Mac. I’m writing this post on my second tweaked MacBook Pro, with my juiced-up Mac Pro tower just behind me churning along, backing up some photo drives. My second iPhone is lying on the couch within easy reach and just beyond that is my iPad. I divide Manhattan into Apple Store zones, though that has become a largely irrelevant exercise since the opening of the Grand Central Station store. I thought Steve Jobs‘ personal skills with his staff were lacking, but his unified vision of design has changed the world.
• Guillermo del Toro – also a visionary.
• I wish my memory were more reliable. I wonder why it isn’t. I feel a little helpless sometimes. The iPhone notes app gets used a lot.
• I’m part of a team making an app for tablets that makes running a consultation-based business much easier, and dare I say, more fun. While that isn’t a new claim in the business management biz, our idea is to come at it from a useability perspective first (and always). It worked for Apple. We announced the app in Berlin in February. It’s not exaggerating to say that this alone would be a very profitable career path. Story of my life – if only I could focus on just one thing.
• I don’t really wish that.
• I wake up every single day loving my life and the opportunities it has presented me. I wonder how many others feel the same.
• I also wake up every single day with music in my head. The song changes up, but there is always a song. I bet the same thing happens to Ferris Bueller. This morning, the song was Yello – Oh Yeah, from Ferris Bueller.
• If you smoke, I think you are a fool. Not joking. You are disgusting. Grow up.
• If you use an apostrophe when you refer to your CDs or the 80s or your several TVs, I assume you didn’t do very well in school.
• I think people who can’t be bothered to proofread are lazy and have no respect for their audience and not nearly enough for themselves. When you send me a typo, I believe you do not respect me, and do not care that I lose respect for you. Having said all that, I still send out the occasional typo. Haste makes waste.
• I’m confused by the politics in the US. Perhaps that’s oversimplifying. I’m confused by the willingness of the voting public to buy what lobbyists are selling. Insurance companies are legally allowed to let people die untreated. It happens all the time. It’s not news. Yet many Americans stridently claim they have the best medical system in the world. I once visited Charleston, South Carolina, and on a tour they showed us copper plaques on the side of certain buildings dating back to the Civil War. They were fire insurance markers. If your house caught fire, and you had insurance, the fire brigade owned by that insurance company would come fight the fire. No plaque? Hmm. Got a bucket? Not much has changed. This is supposedly the shining example of democracy and wealth.
• A small group of well-informed men gamed the securities and investment system, making billions, and caused the near collapse of the global economy. None of them have gone to prison. It was all technically legal. Wrong – desperately wrong – but legal.
• I tend to rant a bit about this sort of thing. I think more people should. One day a president will be elected because he’s angry enough, and because enough people are angry enough. Hopefully.
• I wish Occupy Wall Street could codify the message. They’re right, but it’s hard to follow a vehicle of change with no direction. Righteous causes need manifestos.
• Church and state do not mix. It’s a real problem here. A real problem. Money and state is bad enough.
• Jon Stewart and Stephen Colbert are holding a critical mirror up to America, and they are having a noticeable cultural impact. There’s hope.
• I think if the middle and poor classes understood economics there would be no Republican party.
• I’m trying to think of the last time I really drew something. I think it was before the original who am i post. Wow. It’s not that I stopped being creative. It’s just that cameras and computers make it so much easier to get the pictures out of my head.
• I haven’t painted anything I’d call a painting in about twenty years. I’d like to pick it up again one day.
• I did manage to get to Florence for a few days. It was everything I hoped and then some. I had a mild case of something I later found out is called Stendhal syndrome. In Florence. Where it was named. That tickles me. And makes me wonder if there’s something in the water.
• I still talk philosophy and politics whenever opportunity presents itself. The shape of that opportunity has changed in ten years. There is less intelligent discourse, and more tunnel vision. I don’t think this is a new phenomenon so much as what happens when people get older. As always I wonder if my strong opinions make me seem as closed minded as certain of those around me seem. Luckily, I still have some friends I can get into it with. Best part (necessary part) is we don’t agree on everything. I think it is a measure of friendship that you can debate without it affecting the relationship.
• I make my bed almost every day. The dishes don’t sit overnight anymore. I vacuum the couch. I sweep the floor. I dust. My summer shirts are hung separately from my winter shirts, and my shorts trade places with my jeans at this time of year. To my credit, I still don’t iron. Vive la resistance.
• Of the dozen people I was closest to when I wrote the 2003 post, I am still close with zero. The two people I am closest to now were close to me longer ago than that. Life is a funny thing.
• I still feel that friendship is the glue that binds the universe together. And that it cannot be taken for granted. And that while you must hold fast, you must also let go easily. Paths sometimes diverge. That’s okay. Sometimes they converge beautifully.
• I’m still a closet gushy romantic. Maybe not so closeted. I recruited dozens in my plot to propose to Marjorie.
• I’m married. She’s wonderful. She is beautiful, warm, kind, generous. She makes me laugh right to my core. She is the yin to my yang and I would be lost without her. She believes in me (she would say that she believes in us). So much so that she left her life and family in Vancouver to explore this mysterious and irresistible thing we have. It’s humbling, scary, thrilling, and inspiring, and I will see to it she never has cause to regret it. I will succeed because the light in her eyes says I can. We can.
• I’ve been working on this post for about three months now. True story. Because:
• I told a bit of a lie at the beginning of this post. I know just why i am writing this. While 40 is a milestone worth marking, there is one other that fundamentally changes everything, that really does demand a pause for reflection. It’s when you understand that this moment in time marks the divide between Everything Before, and Everything After, and not in the iPhone or Star Wars or Tolkien sense:
• In September I’m going to be a dad. For a perfect little girl.