-Dusting this place off. We'll see.
-We moved. More space and a pool, which has made me never want to leave my house. In the best way. Life is good, so what's missing? Artistic expression?
- I miss writing, but it feels clunky. Like when you haven't worked out in a couple of years and you walk back into a gym and look around and want to just leave because why bother? It'll never work. This is me stepping back on the treadmill in not cool gym clothes and a full sized towel because my workout towels are long gone and even though people are staring at the extra sweaty guy in the wrong Nikes, I'm going for it anyway dammit. Or something like that. Turning on the writing treadmill. I'm already tired. I could just go home.
-I archived my last post and returned Google Glass after having it for about 2 weeks. It's basically a mini phone screen over your choice of eyes. It's kinda cool, but mostly annoying. it's like the Segway of wearable technology.
-I have a working theory that we are all overstimulated, and that is causing us mass group depression. No one I know is happy, and everyone is hopelessly tethered to bad news and new information. I won't click the bad links anymore. I don't want to hear stories about kids getting left in hot cars or babies dying or beheadings or animal abuse or TMZ VIDEO! of a woman getting punched. We don't need to see these things. We can choose not to feed that machine of "bad news porn." Obviously there are issues to confront within these stories, but the media has no interest in conversation starters. They want outrage because it drives traffic. I'm pulling off of that freeway. Analogy level 2: unlocked.
-Are people who don't have to work and can just travel around the world without worrying about the cost happy? Please advise. Seems ideal.
What was that, like 5 miles? .24 miles??
Let them mess up the house.
Enjoy even the crying.
Walk around the block at their pace.
Answer them all the way.
You are their life.
Make them yours.
Live the way you want them to live.
Learn as they do.
You're not perfect.
Be present now.
You'll miss this later.
As I thaw out from a couple of months of drowning creativity with self-indulgence, my synapses refire to remind me of who I prefer to be.
I've been thinking a lot about art and creating and what the trick is to do it right. I wonder if the golden rule of art is to ignore the audience. Write, produce, create what matters only to yourself, and see if people care. Ignore those it is lost on, worry not about whether the majority approves, apologize for nothing.
Of course, easier said than done. But on stuff that is entirely personal (blog, twitter, pet projects) and not stuff created to satisfy an external expectation of some kind (paid gig, job, contractual obligation), shouldn't it be created without concern for who it pleases?
Tweet without worrying about unfollows.
Write without worrying about offending some.
Live without worrying about what people are thinking (they're not).
Eternal struggle. Same old words.
If you got here via search, you're probably me last week. I put off learning about Bitcoin for over a year. Finally, after my friend suggested I do myself a favor and buy into this new crypto-currency before it's too late, I did some research. I'm not last to the party, but I'm last among the Internet people I know. In the real world, it's still an underground movement.
So here's the very quick version.
Bitcoin is an alternative to a government based currency. It is not traded on the NYSE, nor is it protected by the FDIC, nor any other country's govenment. It is an idea, which is only realized through constant mining by various computers around the world. It's volatile. It may as well still be in Beta. It has the potential to revolutionize the way we pay for things.
Bitcoins are created by a process called mining, in which participants verify and record payments in exchange for transaction fees and newly minted bitcoins. Users send and receive bitcoins using wallet software on a personal computer, mobile device, or a web application. Bitcoins can be obtained by mining or in exchange for products, services, or other currencies.
There will only ever be 21 million Bitcoins. Think about that. If, and that is still a big question, but IF this currency catches on in 1/10 the way Paypal did, the price of 1 BTC has the potential to go up into the many thousands of dollars per Bitcoin.
Currently, 1 Bitcoin will cost you around $600. Steep. The good news is, you don't have to buy a whole one. You can buy fractions.
Based on my extensive research, the most trustworthy place to get in on Bitcoin is at Coinbase. I used their platform to buy in, just in case this thing goes up several thousand dollars over the next couple of years.
Of course, it could shit out and be worth nothing in a few months, but I'm a gambler. If you're looking to get in on it, Coinbase is probably your best option. But do your own research. I don't want you coming back here and yelling at me when Dogecoin Or Litecoin ends up becoming our Global Currency.
If you do end up getting in, use the referral link and we both get 5 bucks in BTC. Shit, in 2 years that could be worth 500.
When I was a younger blogger, and by that I mean back when having kids was a novelty for me, I wrote about them here. I recounted tales of outings and adventures, gloated about new parenting experiences, and shared photos as a kind of proof of my written words. This was in 2005, back when blogging was a thing.
Now, I wonder. Was it fair to mark their lives here, without their approval? Was it all right to post punched up tales of our lives, using them as main characters in a narrative that is undeniably self-serving?
I struggle with it. As they get older and become people that I live with, I find I am less willing to drag them into my own self-involvement. These words, at least for as long as I leave them here, are accessible to anyone. While we all worry about the NSA backdooring their way into our private lives, I wonder if there should be laws about what people can post online about minors. Kids should be allowed to start with an online clean slate, I think. Every bit of information about a person that lives online is a potential vulnerability. Is it my choice to broadcast my children in words?
Shouldn't kids, even when they are too small to understand their own rights to privacy, get to decide what information is shared with the world? Imagine if all of our baby photos and home movies were online for the world to see without our permission. Imagine if potentially embarrassing or revealing stories about us lived on the Internet because our parents needed validation.
Or is this just the new reality that we all must reconcile?
Okay, let's do this.
I've set up a group at Goodreads, which makes all of this much easier to manage. Some of you may already use Goodreads. As of now, I've created it as a secret private group that will not appear in search results. That's just to keep out the strays. Anyone is welcome, so please feel free to invite away.
The link to join is here:
As our first book, I chose Fun Home by Alison Bechdel.
I don't know all that much about the book or the author, but the reviews are good. Part of the reason I want to do this is to read 12 books I might never otherwise read. This seems like a great place to start.
If for some reason you're opposed to using Goodreads, that's okay. I'll post about what we read here too.
And we're off...
-I've been listening to the Eminem's Marshall Mathers LP2 for a week straight. Insane. Makes me wish I understood all of the references he makes.
-Spent last weekend in Vegas. It was rough. Some fun blanketed in bleak, smoky regret. Fuck that place.
-My last post was about beginning season 6 Fantasy Factory shooting. Almost 3 months later, we're almost done primary shooting. It's been full immersion back into a world I missed but will feel content to leave behind. It's closure I needed and have now found.
-Began shooting 20 episodes of a new series called Snack Off. It's a comedy cooking competition show, which has been very fun. I have high hopes.
-Synapses refiring after a week of abstaining from booze. As always. This blog lives and dies around my bad habits.
-Can't wait to get a Tesla when my current lease is up. I wanted a Volt, but just couldn't commit to driving such a small car. TSLA FTW.
-My dog is getting older, slowing down. I used to hope for that (he was a crazy kid), but now it makes me nervous.
-I'm blown out. Take on too much, pay the price.
This is for me more than you. I have to remember that.
After almost two years (1 year and 7 months, to be exact), we return today to the Fantasy Factory to begin production on Season 6 of our series.
Without context, it's probably hard for you to realize why that matters so much to me.
For now, just know that it's an exciting day that I was pretty sure we'd never see. Starting today, we get the chance to do it all one more time, and close out the series properly.
It feels like the band is back together for four more months.
ONE MORE TOUR!
This is Max. He likes weekends. We adopted him 8 years ago. He was living under a car in South Central LA when he was brought to the shelter. He is the nicest, kindest, sometimes stupidest, most loving, squirrel chasingest dog ever. There are thousands of dogs like him waiting for someone to come save them from a crappy life they don't deserve.
I have a love/hate with alcohol.
On the love side, I enjoy beer. I enjoy having the power to impair myself. I enjoy the way it makes me feel comfortable in social settings. I enjoy the culture of drinking, and the types of people who like to drink socially. I enjoy wine. I enjoy a cocktail. Alcohol and I get along pretty okay. Mostly
On the hate side, it has a dampening effect. It slows down my mental capacity the day after (and days after) drinking. It makes me sluggish. I sleep later. I miss mornings with my kids because I'm in bed. I don't write as much. Work is harder. I feel, and certainly am less creative. I panic more. The post-drinking anxiety is sometimes almost too much to bear. I wake up and frantically check who I've texted or tweeted or commented, slightly panicked. I don't exercise because why bother. I eat shitty food because who cares. I nap more. I'm annoyed more. I'm irritable and lazy. This list could go on for a while, I'm realizing.
So, it's a constant struggle. I have a hard time finding balance. If I'm in that drinking mode, being healthy seems impossible. If I'm in the health mode, drinking feels like I'm poisoning myself. I can't seem to find a middle ground. The swings back and forth between modes get deeper and farther apart as years go by.
I think we all know what makes us happy. We know what it will take to be healthy, fit, chemically balanced, etc. And yet, so many of us ignore that nagging voice inside saying:
You know what to do.
Earn a happy life.
It's not a pill or a drink or a book or a relationship or a therapist, right? It's listening to that voice telling you to stop doing the things you know aren't working, even if it's just an experiment for a week.
So it's been a week. I'm trying to swing back towards health mode after a long swing in the other direction. It's not always as fun to be healthy, but it does make me happier. Right? Is fun happiness, or is fun instant gratification at the expense of happiness? Where is the middle ground? Shit, I don't know.
I'm writing here, so maybe the experiment is working.
Is it possible that we are on the cusp of an anti smart phone backlash?
I recently ditched my iphone to break out of the cycle of buying for the sake of buying.
Yes, I realize that I just switched brands and haven't really broken out of anything.
Are we in that weird zone of new technology with no accompanying etiquette?
Is the novelty almost gone?
Do I need Vine? Instagram? Twitter? Facebook? Path? Spotify? Mulitple emails? Google+?
Do I want them?
Jesus, I'm thinking maybe not.
This social media shit is over, right?
As I round the corner towards the still youngish age of 42, I’ve had some time to reflect upon what’s worked and what hasn’t in my life. Periodically, I feel the need to share some of this wisdom. Usually this happens when I haven’t been drinking much and my brain wants to dump information. Here we are.
So here’s some advice. I know you didn’t ask for it, you probably wonder why I think I’m qualified to give it, and there’s a good chance you’re going to ignore it. I’m okay with that. This blog entry will tick a box in my subconscious need to feel like I’m connecting to people through words, and probably make me cringe when I’m out of phase with this creative streak I’m currently riding. That’s my cycle. Fun stuff, right? I'm already partially cringing.
Anyway, here we go.
1. Play like you practice.
If you’ve heard it from a coach, you know what it means. It means don’t save yourself for the big game. Don’t imagine a time when everything is real and you’ll finally be able to give it 100%. This is it. It’s real right now: your writing, your acting, your creating, your parenting, your working, your choices in life. There may never be a big game, or at least, not the one you imagine from the comfort of your couch while you’re playing Minecraft instead of rewriting your sketch. Time slips quickly, and the impression you make on people now will have lasting repercussions as your peers rise through the ranks and eventually have the power to hire you, or not. You play like you practice. You'll have no idea how to actually execute when opportunity arrives if you haven't been giving it everything until that day comes.
2. Trust your instinct.
If you’re miserable in your job, quit. If you’ve chosen the wrong career, make a plan to switch. If something feels wrong, you’re right. Fix it, and don’t look back. This applies to work, relationships, friendships, and life choices. Wake up in the morning the person you want to be instead of the person you’re constantly trying to change. Sometimes it’s hard work to stay true to the person you know you are. It’s always worth it.
3. Let your dreams change.
You thought you were going to be a famous actor but have slowly begun to resent everything about the career except the end goal you imagine to be the answer to your happiness? It isn’t. This goes back to #1. Life slips by quickly when you sacrifice your current happiness for imagined future happiness for an extended amount of time. People tell you to do what you love. That’s not an expression, it’s a philosophy. Switch your dreams to something that makes you happy right now, not hopefully happy later.
4. Open your eyes to the right person.
The right person is so rarely the one you’ve imagined since you were young. The right person is someone you love to be around; someone who makes you laugh, makes you happy, makes you feel strong. Lots of times, they're so obviously in front of you that you look right past them. If you find someone like that, latch on and never look back. If your current person doesn’t do those things for you, move on. Seriously, today.
5. Stop comparing your life to others.
Your life has nothing to do with theirs. You imagine their world to be perfect, but it never is. Find your own happiness, be happy for others successes, and fight that envy. It will tear you up and make you hard to be around. Dump your cynicism, while you’re at it. It’s cheap and simple.
6. Go where life blows you.
So to speak. Let that gentle pushing and pulling you feel each day guide you towards where you belong. Say yes to new things. Be open to exciting experience. Try new foods. Travel. Don’t just hate stuff because it’s easier. Maybe you’d love eel. Or urchin. Or the Insane Clown Posse. You don’t know.
7. Measure your failures as cautiously as you measure your successes.
So you failed. Okay. In the same way you are modest about your successes, be modest about your failures. Don’t linger in them. Think of all the hard learning you did while you worked so hard on something that sucked. Valuable knowledge. That’s how it goes sometimes. On to the next one.
8. Stop expecting stuff.
Your friends don’t owe you a job. Your parents don’t want to support you anymore. No one wants to hear you complain. You don’t deserve anything any more than anyone else. You aren’t the center of the world. You are responsible for your own happiness. Stop blaming everyone and everything else if you aren’t there yet. Fix it.
9. Be direct with people.
Fight the urge to say yes to everyone all the time. It’s okay to say no in a nice way. You’ll lose friends if you agree to do something and then just hope it fades away or they forget. Just be honest now and avoid the guilt later.
10. If you find the sweet spot, everything falls into place.
Get yourself to where you’re happiest in work, relationship, hobbies, social activities...and the world will open up to you. If you’re happy, people will want to be around you. If you’re miserable, you become a chore.
11. Be nice to the people who like you.
Don’t ignore their invitations. Don’t blow off their emails. Don’t take friendships for granted. If you do, you’ll eventually find yourself a fringe friend who everyone only kind of likes.
Okay, that's enough.
I’m sure some people will skewer this. It’s filled with cliches and some preachy horsecrap, but these are some real things I’ve learned. Most of this stuff is probably in self help books or group therapy sessions, but since I’ve managed to avoid both thus far, it's taken me almost 42 years to learn.
Of course, older folks will shake their heads and chuckle at the notion of an almost 42 year old popinjay spouting any sort of wisdom. So be it. Perhaps you 20 or 30 something youngsters will find a nugget or two in here that you can scoff at, file away, and then one day spout as your own after a hard lesson or two toughens you up.
Or maybe you already figured this stuff out and I'm just slow.
Brain dump: complete.
If there's one thing I've learned about not doing something, it's that you'll never get a return on all of your imagined outcomes.
They are zero.
Go ahead and keep tricking yourself into thinking you can do it better/faster/smarter. Keep trying to demoralize others who make things, from the cushioned comfort of your inaction.
Sellout. Hack. Not funny. Boring. Been done. Anyone can do that. Famewhore. No-talent.
Keep hiding behind the mindless act of cutting other people down...
Or, make something and release it and see what happens.
Hear criticism. Revel in acclaim.
Get better as you do both.
That's the most exciting part about art.
I wished for some things, and they came true. So I kept wishing for more, and they showed up too.
I didn't mean to rhyme there, but now I have and I won't rewrite it.
I suppose blogging is dead, now that Google has announced the death of Google Reader.
Not really, but it's sad. All of my friends are in that reader. I follow people I've forgotten about because they live in the sidebar of a bland little aggregator that keeps me connected. Sure, I could export my feeds. Will I?
Melancholy over a stupid RSS reader? Don't be an asshole, me.
Anyway, real life is on a run right now. So much good stuff that I can't bear to share it. That's not me being cryptic, it's me being cautious. I don't believe in jinxing shit, but I do believe in not fucking it up by being loud. Jinxing, I guess.
I won't be blogging every day this year. I tried, and missed. But I'll still write here. Add me to your non-Google RSS reader. Shit, maybe I'll go back to the OG NetNewsWire. They seem to be capitalizing on a rare Google mistake.
I've had nothing but juice and almonds all day. It's going to be a bitch to get off coffee AND booze for a while.
It can be done. Maybe I'll just wish for it.
Seems to work.
Sure, I blew it in February. I'm okay with that.
Once a day for a year is insane. I get that now.
Also, who wants it? There are about 12 of you reading.
Quality, not quantity.
But I'm here.
I'm not going anywhere.
Just try to shake me.
I've become obsessed with classic watches.
I know how it started.
About three years ago, John Mayer shot with us for a few days to be on an episode of Fantasy Factory. He'd seen every episode of Rob and Big and blindly called Rob to tell him how much he enjoyed it. From there, the two formed a friendship and John eagerly agreed to come down to do an episode. Everyone who worked on the show was excited. When you work in Los Angeles, you occasionally cross paths with ultra famous people. It's always a bit of a thrill, no matter what anyone tells you. People who claim not to be fazed by any level of contact with mega-fame are lying.
John showed up, and was brilliant. He was funny, smart, and nice to everyone working on the show. He went out of his way to be present and accessible, a delicate dance when most of the people approaching him on a daily basis are probably doing their best to play it cool and pretend that whatever the conversation is won't become a story for all of their friends later. He's a very cool guy. He even let me drive his Audi R8 to Hollywood one day that we shot. Quite a highlight.
In addition to being a talented musician and human, John Mayer also happens to be a huge watch guy. He's a well known watch collector, and he wore an incredibly nice watch each day of the three days we shot. I remember an IWC and some mega thousand dollar exotic watch, but the watch I remember most was this one:
If I'm not mistaken, that's a Green Rolex Submariner Date 116610LV, AKA: The Hulk. Pretty sick. Back then, I knew nothing about it.
One day during shooting, we got to talking about watches. I asked him why he cared so much. "It doesn't make sense to me," I said. "Who wears watches? You might as well carry a typewriter around with you," I joked.
He dismissed me (in a friendly way), saying: "You don't get it then. You don't have the gene. Some people do, some people don't. You obviously don't have the watch gene." He smirked as he walked back into the warehouse to shoot another scene inside of Rob's office.
Pfft. Don't have the gene.
What does that even...
SURE, I don't have millions of dollars to buy ANYTHING I WANT!
Who even checks the time anymore?
Don't have the...
I MIGHT HAVE THE GENE, YOU DON'T KNOW, JOHN MAYER.
After that day, I told the story of the time John Mayer told me I didn't have the watch gene to friends several different times. "What a dick," they always said. "Thank you," I always said.
But, the seed was planted. I couldn't stop thinking about that beautiful green Submariner. I started noticing other Submariners and Datejusts and Day Dates, and Daytonas in the wild. I started researching the history of the watches and the brand. Did you know the Submariner was the watch Sean Connery wore in the Bond movies? That an Explorer was the watch Ian Fleming wore when he WROTE Bond? That they are some of the most imitated watches in history?
I didn't either. Until John Mayer planted that fucking seed.
The seed grew into a nagging urge. I started to maybe understand the idea of having a nice watch. An heirloom. A workhorse. A constant reminder of this specific point in my life.
Fuckin' John Mayer.
So in 2011, I got myself an entry level Submariner. I used my 40th birthday as an excuse, although it was something I had been obsessing about for more than a year before I finally pulled the trigger. Some people buy corvettes when they turn 40, some people apparently buy a watch. It's not a fancy green bezeled one like John's, but I love it. I've worn it almost every day since I bought it. It's a "No Date Stainless Steel Sub," as they call it on the watch nerd message boards.
Someday, I'll hand it down to my son. I like the idea of passing a cool watch down to my kid. It's a nice connection.
Today I spent the entire day studying the late 60's Datejust, one of the most classic watches of all time. I read about the intricacies of the components; the variety of models, how to spot fakes; which ones are the most desirable, etc. I read about baton hands and Jubilee watch bands and the half life of tritium (the radioactive isotope of hydrogen), which gave watches in the 50's and 60's their "lume," or glow in the dark ability. I think I've been bitten by a watch bug. Or watch gene. Or maybe John Mayer?
Hey, I read that he's dating Katy Perry.
What a perfect segue to a photo of Katy Perry to close out this post:
Look at that. Her dress matches John's green Submariner.
Set high goals and don't be afraid to recalibrate.
We've been shooting the second half of the third season of Ridiculousness for the past couple of weeks. When we finish later today, that will be 58 episodes of this series over three seasons. Unbelievable. It premiered last week as the top rated cable show of the entire day. It's taken a while, but we're finally starting to feel like we know what we're doing. If all goes well, we'll get to keep making more.
I'm also producing and directing a series of commercials and internet spots that we shoot in a couple of weeks. It's a big project for our production company, and an exciting new path for me.
So, I haven't had lots of spare time for writing, but that's a good thing. Being busy is much better than the alternative.
I'll keep striving to post every day.
The good thing about falling a little short of a lofty goal is...
hey, you're still pretty high up there.
I spent over a week writing guest posts at Wil Wheaton dot Net. I know I neglected Nickerblog dot com, but I'm okay with that. Wil is not only a friend, but an inspiration. The chance to hop into the driver's seat of WWdN for even a short amount of time was a huge honor. I know it's just a blog, but fuck that no it isn't. It's THE blog. All the other blogs are just versions of it.
If you have been paying close attention (which my stats and comments lead me to believe you have NOT been), I missed a couple of days. C'est la Vie. I'm all about letting myself off for good behavior.
Life has been busy. Ridiculousness Season 3 premiered this past week (and did pretty fucking well), we taped episode 50 last Friday (FUCKING FIFTY MOTHERFUCKERS), and in January, Rob and I started our own production company. (!)
These things are good.
The company is called "SuperJacket Productions." Our goal is to continue to make funny content. Here's our logo, which I love:
It's based on a running joke from Rob and Big. It will appear as an endcard in all episodes of Ridiculousness starting with 302 (this Thursday). There is an animated version, which is way better than this static one.
Dudes, I have my own production company. WTF.
Pretending I know what I'm doing is my spirit animal.
You have to begin.
This is something I've been pushing myself to do this year. Ignore that shitty voice:
"If I’ve learned anything in my shaky life as an artist, it’s that you must stop talking and spinning and whining and start making your thing today. Pick up a camera. Pick up an easel. Open your laptop and turn off your Internet connection while you write. Find a starting point. Ignore the voices. Ignore the critics. Reward yourself for having ideas by valuing them enough to believe in them."
I had a dream that I decided not to finish college.
I told my parents, who completely agreed with me since I already have three kids and a currently successful career. That was the weird thing: I was both me now and me from college at the same time. Wibbly-wobbly-timey-wimey.
With the knowledge of my present (and to a college me, future), I decided that college was a waste of money and time. My parents were delighted, as they paid for all four years of college plus my victory lap.
I was in a fraternity in college. It made sense at the time, since it felt like an easy way to make friends. I'd call it more of a drinking club than an organization. It contributed heavily to my need for a fifth year to graduate.
If you subtract what I learned from books and classes in college, you'd be left with my bumpy road to socialization. I discovered who I didn't like being and finally realized the potential of who I might one day be. It took me five years, but I found my career. It sprung out of drunken nights in basements, an embarrassing night in a police station, failed attempts at Accounting, and dishes washed in a restarant called Martino's.
In my dream, I had all of the information and decided that college was a waste of time and money.
Sitting here, thinking back on it, it was exactly what I needed to end up where I am.
"Part of getting older is the discovery that there is no end plateau you eventually reach where everything is finally perfect. Maturity is a myth. You spend the first half of your life chasing maturity and the second half figuring out how to be escape it. By the end of 2012, I was feeling lost. A show that I produced had recently ended after five seasons, I was on the tail end of a six month decline into party/pig mode, and I started to feel like I didn’t have a lot of real friends in my life. Three kids and a busy job make it difficult to invest time into old friendships, and before you know it, years have gone by and you’ve drifted into deep, lonely water."
Just so's you don't think I've given up on writing every day...
Well, sort of.
Here's an excerpt...
I'm so excited.
"For some reason, Wil gave me the keys to the Internet by allowing me to guest post here on WWdN. WHAT THE WHAT? You can imagine my excitement, as WWdN is hallowed ground for some of us longtime bloggers and blog readers. And TNG fans. Oh my god, the one where Picard gets pwned by that Alien probe and lives a whole other life and learns to play a space flute? Hawesome. Wait, was Wil even in that one? What was I talking about. Oh, right. Keys to the Internet. WWdN. It’s the place we’ve watched a guy we wish we knew from movies and TV turn into a guy we really DO know, thanks to his writing and his willingness to share his life. It’s the blog that spawned thousands of blogs (mine included), and continues to be a fascinating (and generous) glimpse at the path our friend Wil is traveling..."
Here in Los Angeles, it's apparently okay to open fire on a truck that LOOKS LIKE the truck of an alleged cop killer.
From the L.A. Times article:
Manhunt: Newspaper carrier, 71, in ICU after being shot by police
A 71-year-old woman delivering newspapers with her daughter remained in intensive care Thursday night after she was shot twice in the back by Los Angeles police detectives during a massive manhunt for a fugitive ex-LAPD officer, according to the womens' attorney.
Emma Hernandez was delivering the Los Angeles Times with her daughter, Margie Carranza, 47, in Torrance early Thursday when police officers apparently mistook their pickup for that of Christopher Jordan Dorner, the 33-year-old fugitive suspected of killing three people and injuring two others.
Hernandez was in stable condition late Thursday.
The officers riddled the women's blue pickup with bullets in the 19500 block of Redbeam Avenue. Carranza was also hit, according to attorney Glen T. Jonas, and received stitches to a finger.
How the fuck does this happen? Why are we not protesting in the streets? What if you had a blue truck and were in the wrong place at the wrong time? Jesus fucking Christ, LAPD. This guy's manifesto accuses you of covering up truths, racism, and general corruption. Maybe the wrong message to send back is that YOU WILL FUCKING SHOOT ANYONE WHO DRIVES A SIMILAR VEHICLE, NO QUESTIONS ASKED.
I support law enforcement. I have family in law enforcement. But for fuck's sake, their job is to serve and protect not SHOOT PEOPLE JUST IN CASE.
Please be outraged by this.
One of the interesting life lessons I've learned over the past several years is that achieving dreams sometimes goes unnoticed. You spend so much time focused on general goals, which constantly evolve as you chase them, that you can be right in the middle of your destination and confuse it for more of the road to that elusive place you've only partially imagined.
I'll make it more personal.
There was a time in my life when the idea of having a job I enjoyed and the ability to pay my bills was a fantasy. When I was catering at Bar Mitzvahs or carrying baggage to rooms in the Park Hyatt or making drinks for fancy people at private parties, I yearned for a life that I imagined being something closer to the people I was serving. I wanted to have a family and be proud of some achievements and feel like a proper adult. I wanted, if nothing else, to not live hand to mouth; week to week; paycheck to paycheck.
Life is funny. It doesn't reward you with a cake when you finally arrive somewhere you set out to go. More often, life tricks you with new goals and more plans and if you're not careful, a dismissive wave of the hand at your occasional desire to clap yourself on the back. Onward. More to do. Recalibrating.
I don't live hand to mouth right now. I'm not living in a mansion in Bel Air, but I'm also not afraid to buy the good coffee from time to time. Shit, after almost six years, I'm finally convinced that I can handle our mortgage without nightly panic attacks. I'm 41. I had hoped to be somewhere like here when I was younger, imagining myself as an adult.
It was a long road to here. I slogged through the shitty trenches of day jobs for over a decade. If not for a few fortunate forks in the road, I might still be in those trenches. Knowing how this town works, I could easily be back there with a couple of bad decisions...
When the house is quiet and it's just me here on the couch, I do reflect on some of the things I have done. I think of traveling the world with extraordinary people on Trippin'. I think of the three series I've helped to build. I think of the three children I helped create. I think of the incredibly successful friends I have, who continue to shock me with their progress and seeming domination of this town. I think of meetings and deals and conference calls and big decisions and I realize...
I'm right in the middle of a place I always hoped I'd be. I get to work in the TV/Film business... and I really love it.
You hear about things other people are doing in their parallel careers, and their stuff always feels more important than the things you're actually doing.
But what I think I've figured out is that maybe no one thinks their own thing is as important as everyone else's thing. Rarely do we think our own careers are exceptional or amazing or extraordinary. Rarely do we step back and say, "This is where you used to wish you were, and now you're here. Smile. Laugh. Give yourself a high five." But we should, because who knows how long it will last, or how long we'll last, or how much it will really matter when we look back upon it.
I have had some exceptional experiences in my life, and I feel very lucky to be where I am.
There's still a long way to go before I get there, as the saying goes, but I have to remind myself that depending on perspective, "there" is also very much "here."