After we leave this world there remains only our artifacts. The dusty items that filled our lives, now in boxes and shelves. Scratched on paper and wood, the finger print of us. Tucked away and forgotten waiting for someone else to discover and evaluate.
And this is how the end begins, a small amount of change at a time. A quiet unraveling. A soft and steady suffocation. And then it's hard to breath. Things come unbound. An empty well that draws no water. You look back as you move forward, and there it all lies, telling the story of now and how you're here and ahead is dark, but you keep moving.
Holidays are ripe with memories, nostalgia, sentimentalism, strife (or contempt), and occassionally calm and relaxation (but I have three kids, so that's merely a situation that other people lie about). As I grow older — and successively see my past fade away into nothingness — I can't help but preoccupy myself with thoughts of what (my life) is and what (my life) will be.
This past weekend a we had a large crate delivered to our driveway. Within it contained some old furniture and several boxes. The stuff of my childhood dispersed across hundreds of miles, a casualty of divorce and moving on and aging. Boxes of musty old clothes and wrinkled drawings and small tokens of the boy I once was a very long time ago.
So here's the finished movie. Last night (Tuesday, Aug. 5th) was the awards show for the 48 Hour Film Nashville, our awesome team took home zero awards. Meh, politics. I'm still proud of our final product,...
Distractions: The one where I try to get back into the habit of working hard instead of hardly working OR how to use cliches
Upon receiving a Christmas letter from someone in my past, I find myself being mentally transported to that place in Canaan, New Hampshire, where the snow faithfully falls in abundance every year, and people are outnumbered by the trees and...
Elliott was downstairs playing with Sonya and I was in the kids room helping Abbie settle down for the night (and laying in Elliott's bed). My mind wandered to my years of high school, living in Kansas City. Maybe I just wanted to see if I could remember any of my time there, anything specific - 15 or more years gone. Faces and names and places crept up into my visions.