May 2017: A Car Crash in Three Acts

I am beginning writing this post at 10:30PM on June 5, exactly one month to the minute after a pickup truck ran a red light and crashed into my driver's side door. I've had a full calendar page to dwell on the implications of this incident, but the crash wasn't the only event that left me shaken. This collision incited a month of change so massive that I can safely say my life is entirely different, and it should go without saying (but I'm saying it anyway), that I'm indescribably thankful that I am alive to write this post, that my fingers work to press the keys, that my ears can hear the clicks, that my eyes can see the screen, that my nose can smell the sticky air being blown into my room from outside by a box fan in the window, that I am alive. I am alive.

I am alive.

-
A CAR CRASH IN THREE ACTS

ACT ONE: I Switched My Robot Off

"I switched my robot off,
And I know more,
But retain less,
Retain less,
-tain less,
-tain less,
Less,
Less,
Less,
Less,
Less..."
- Gorillaz, "I Switched My Robot Off" Humanz (2017)

I love Gorillaz. That fictional four-piece is one of my favorite bands, and every single release of theirs has pushed me as an artist, a consumer, and a human being. Humanz is the first new studio album from Gorillaz in seven years, so naturally I purchased the deluxe version as soon as possible. But I wasn't just going to throw it in and listen to it on the drive home from the store. Oh no. When it comes to musicians and art that pushes me to grow, challenges my beliefs, and otherwise changes the way I think about the world, I sit down and give it my full attention. Granted, this album has also been referred to as "a dance club record for the end of the world" so I'm not expecting anything too deep - just plenty of beats and hooks to keep me dancing and singing while the political (and probably real) apocalypse begins.

I'm also in the middle of writing and recording a new Up n Adam EP; it's a fun little slice of Summer that I wanted to record and put out for free before planning a little mini-tour of sorts at different beaches in Michigan. A few of these songs require the sound of waves, preferably without people talking or yelling. In order to get these sounds, I figured I would drive to the beach at night (one of my favorite things to do, year-round) and record some waves. And, hey! I could listen to the new Gorillaz album if I went to a beach that was a solid hour away! (Gotta get the bonus tracks in too, of course.) It was going to be a perfect night, especially after the week I'd had.

At the time, I was working three jobs: Celebration! Cinema Woodland (where I'd been for three and a half years, ever since I moved up to Grand Rapids), ShadowShine Pictures (a production company started by a childhood friend), and Wealthy Street Bakery (my new job, mere blocks from my apartment). It had been a long week, but by some miracle, I had Friday night off. May 5. Cinco de Mayo.

I remember talking with Brittany (my roommate and one of the best friends I've ever had, in case you don't know for some reason?) before I left about whether or not it was safe to make the drive.

A: "I mean, it's Cinco de Mayo. People have been drinking all day. Should I be worried?"
B: "Nah, it's not like you're driving on Halloween or St. Patrick's Day or something."
A: "Yeah, I'll be fine once I get on the highway."

Even still, I remember opening my car door and looking back at my apartment thinking, "I've had a long week...maybe I should just have a night in?" But I looked at the moon and smiled, and then I got in the car and shut the door.

The new Gorillaz album was on my front seat. My clothes were comfortable, just a little too warm to fight the chill of being by the water. I put the CD in (Finally! After long last!) and drove away.
Honestly, it's funny recounting all of this because I had it all figured out. I knew who I was, I knew what I wanted to do with my Summer, I knew what I wanted to do with the next year and a half of my life. I had it figured out. And as I drove down Wealthy Street, through the roundabouts and across Division, I have no shame in admitting that I let out an excited yell. The new Gorillaz album was playing! I was going to the beach at night! I had film projects and music projects and writing projects lined up!

(What's that old joke? "How do you make God laugh? You make a plan.")

As track two ("Ascension") was ramping up, I was about to cross the US-131 overpass on my way to Market Street. I turned up the volume. I was beaming. The bass was throbbing and the lyrics were already being sponged into my brain so I could sing along as soon as possible. "The sky's fallin' baby, drop that ass 'fore it crash! Higher!" I approached the double-stoplight and saw a pickup truck slowing down; he had a red light, so why wouldn't he stop? "The sky's fallin' baby, drop that ass 'fore it crash! Higher!" He still wasn't stopping, but he was slowing down so...why wouldn't he stop? "The sky's fallin' baby, drop that ass 'fore it crash! Higher!" I'm about to go through the light and he's slowing down, but he isn't stopping. Why isn't he stopping? "The sky's fallin' baby, drop th--"

And then he hit me. My driver's side door smashed in, and I slammed my head against the window before it shattered. Then I felt a second impact behind me. I looked at the man driving the truck, and he vacantly stared back with glassy eyes as if he didn't realize I was another person. (I am almost entirely sure he was drunk. He looked at me, directly at me, and didn't see me. Our eyes met, but I could tell he couldn't see me.) He pulled the truck away, next to a city bus that I soon realized was the second impact I felt behind me.

And then I sat there, staring for a few seconds. I turned the music down, off. (Yes, that was the first thing I did.) I stared longer. Then I grabbed my phone and called 911. I got out of the car through the passenger side door, and these two girls who had seen the entire crash were parked in front of me. They got out and told me they had also called 911, and then they asked if I was okay. I just sort of went back and forth from staring at my car to touching my body everywhere that it hurt (which, to my utter shock, weren't many places at all). My head wasn't bleeding. I had all of my limbs and extremities. I was standing. "I think I'm okay. Do I look okay? Am I bleeding?" "Your nose is bleeding." I checked under the nostrils. "No, like, on your nose."

There was a small cut on my nose, a small cut on the back of my left hand (which is now a pink scar made of fresh flesh), and broken glass in my hair where my head hit, but no blood on my head. It was just a bruise. My driver's side door was all but detached from my vehicle, I had been hit by a pickup truck and rear-ended by a city bus, I was covered in shattered glass, and yet...I was alive. How the hell was I alive?

For the sake of length, I'll move a little faster.

The police and ambulance showed up, everyone gave their statements and went their separate ways, and oh yeah, the guy in the truck? He got out of the truck, ditched it, and left the scene. He just walked into downtown. Part of me thinks he was just blackout drunk and didn't realize what had happened, but part of me thinks he was convinced he killed me. Either way, he was gone.

Brittany was picking up Phillip (my other roommate, her boyfriend, and a really REALLY great dude) from work, but they were on their way back to pick me up. I called my mom from the back of a cop car (which is obviously going to be on my "two truths and a lie" roster from now on) and recounted everything to her, which is the last thing a mother wants to hear from her son at like 11:30PM or whenever, but I have the strongest (and best, honestly) mother on the planet. I don't know what I would do without her.

Brittany and Philip showed up, and I loaded up Brittany's car with the 50-60 CDs that were in my backseat, let the tow truck take my car away, and we were on our way back home.

As soon as I was sure I was okay (a question I asked Brittany and Phillip more times than normal, but they were more than happy to reassure me that it was just shock messing with me, making me feel like I had somehow not noticed I had an arm off or something), I went into my room and texted a few of the people closest to me. I told a lot of people I loved them that night, and it wasn't nearly enough. I wanted to tell every single person I had ever had any brief contact with that I loved them dearly.

Since the incident, I've been more aware of existence than ever before. Not just my own existence, but the existence of others. Every single person on this planet, from my family to my friends to the guy who hit me with his truck to people I'll never have an opportunity to meet during my short time here, all of those people exist. They breathe, they eat, they laugh, they cry. Every single person.

I've also gained a renewed belief in, for lack of better words, destiny and fate. For the past few years, I've shed much of what I believed about human beings having the inability to change certain things in their lives. I used to believe that much of life was "predestined" by God to fall into place; we had the ability to make choices, sure, but things were pretty much set. However, as time passed, I came to believe very much in free will, more than ever before. Don't get me wrong, of course I believe that meaning can be found in every event, good or bad (one need only look with an open heart - there are patterns in static). I also believe that we have a limited number of paths we can take in our lives, with an overwhelming amount of choices that lead us down these paths, but we make those choices. For instance, I chose to go to the beach at night and the man who hit me chose to drink until he could no longer operate a vehicle. But here's where the change comes in: all human logic points to the fact that I should have died a month ago. It doesn't make any sense that I would live after something like this, and since there was no "free will choice" in the moment that would have resulted in my avoiding being hit, there must be a reason outside of myself that I am still alive. Not that I was flailing about feeling purposeless or that I thought I was a god in complete control of my entire existence (if you know me at all, you're probably laughing at that). On the contrary, I just wrote a long thing about how I thought I had everything figured out and had plenty of purpose. And I've never considered myself a god (that never ends well for anyone, and frankly it's too much responsibility - no thank you), but rather I've always very much believed in a Higher Power, One who knows and loves all of us, and because of that, also gave us free will to make all of these choices and go down all of these paths. No, the thing I had forgotten, the thing I'll never forget again, was that I am unavoidably, through and through, whether I want it or not, entirely human. I am temporary. I will die one day, and that day was almost May 5, 2017.

I had gotten too comfortable in making my life turn into what I wanted from life that I was missing the experience of life. I was putting off decisions and desires because I was convinced I had time for all of them. Sure, I love listening to music and watching movies and creating things. Sure, I feel things deeply. That didn't change. But the days following the crash, I was noticing things I couldn't believe I had let slip by me. I became thrilled by moments that could easily be seen as mundane: the sound of a car passing, the way hot and cold feels, the way a door pumps when it is locked. And moreso than moments, I'm brimming with energy from, for, and about people; smiles are especially beautiful and contagious, the way bodies move when we walk, what others must be feeling when they touch a counter or lift a mug, the way bodies react to nervousness or excitement, the way necks turn into shoulders, the way coughs and sneezes and gasps and laughter echo in rib cages, the way eye contact feels like one glass pouring into another and vice versa. I am full of new energy. I am full of new life.

I am so grateful to be alive.


Before I showered the shards of glass out of my hair, I called my mom again, who pointed something out:

"Wasn't it May when your car blew up? Five years ago? And you were going to the same beach?"

Yep. Five years ago, almost to the very week, my car spontaneously caught fire and exploded on the way to South Haven at 10:30PM. You've heard the story, I'm sure. (And if you haven't, I'll be happy to tell it again.) We laughed about it, and it felt good to laugh.

Needless to say, I won't be leaving the house for the entirety of May 2022.

-

ACT TWO: Fade Out, Roll Credits, Cue Lights

(These next two acts will be significantly shorter in length and lighter in subject matter. But they must be written, as they too are massive changes worth noting.)

I worked for Celebration! Cinema for six and a half years.

In my time there, I saw roughly 300 movies for free (the employee ID tracks them, but before we got the ID, I had a few months of going when it was recorded on paper), I got thousands of dollars worth of popcorn, candy, and soda for hundreds of dollars, and I ate over one thousand soft pretzels. I know. That's too many pretzels. Good lord. How am I still skinny? I have no idea.

I also met countless people on various tracks in life, either getting a job because their parents bugged them to do so, or just trying to scrape by and pay bills any way they could. I was in the latter camp, but there was something bigger afoot: I got to be around movies ALL THE TIME and get paid for it. For years, it was the dream! I lived and breathed cinema. I mean, I still do, but working at a theater was the rich soil needed for my greedy little movie-loving roots to spread and grip and grow. I could see scenes out of context, I could memorize and critique dialogue, I could see movies I loved five times in a week if I wanted to! It was great. My time working at movie theaters (I also worked at one in Sturgis during high school for like three years too) has shaped who I am as a person in a big way, and I'll never forget it, but not only because of the atmosphere; it was also the people.

Now, I've already written a big ol' post for the people at Woodland, so I won't type all of that out again here, but rather the point of including this is to accent the gravity of my departure. My last day at Celebration! Cinema was May 21, 2017. My first day was September 10, 2010. You don't just invest almost seven years of your life somewhere and not feel it when you leave.

This change was a long time coming. This change was something I had wanted for years, and yet never felt like it was the right time. See, there's only so long someone can work late-night hours and stressful shifts for entirely too little pay in comparison to the workload. But at the same time, there was a culture and family at these places that meant more to me than a paycheck. And that's why I stayed as long as I did. And that's what I'll miss the most.

I had a last hurrah with some coworkers after my final shift. I'd spent years wondering what my going-away party would look like, and I was not disappointed. But it was different than I could have ever guessed, and I was so happy. This change, this was one that felt like a step forward. I was ready to move on, and people were cheering me as I left the nest. Sure, my departure was expedited because of my lack of vehicle, but it couldn't have been a more right time.

If this were a movie, this would be right as everything seems to be getting better for our protagonist. He's grown from pain. He's learned to be more honest and take risks. Things are looking up for this fella. You know, right before something unexpected and devastating happens out of nowhere.

Guess what's about to happen out of nowhere? Yep. Something unexpected and devastating.

-

ACT THREE: Suddenly, Everything Has Changed

"Putting all the vegetables away,
That you bought at the grocery store today,
And it goes fast, you think of the past...
...suddenly, everything has changed."
- The Postal Service, "Suddenly Everything Has Changed (The Flaming Lips cover)"

Some changes happen when you least expect them, faster than you could keep your eyes on, and harder hitting than you could ever prepare for; sometimes they happen before you even notice them.

I quit working for ShadowShine Pictures on May 30, 2017.

This was a decision that was not made flippantly, and yet it happened so quickly I could hardly believe it myself. I'm still having a hard time believing it. But I'm not having a hard time questioning whether or not it was the right thing to do.

I won't divulge details due to the sensitive nature of, well, all of it.

Suffice it to say, this was something that needed to happen. From this end, new beginnings will spark to life. Healthy beginnings. Honest beginnings. This will take time, and even though much of this post has an air of "life is short! TIME IS TICKING GO GO GO" there is something to be said for letting time take its time.

There you have it: the third and final act in the car crash that was May 2017. And just like that, suddenly, everything has changed.

"Putting all the clothes you washed away,
As you're folding up the shirts, you hesitate,
Then it goes fast, think of the past...
...suddenly, everything has changed."

-

EPILOGUE: Strange Interpretation

So here we are: no more car, only one job, and a re-found sense of destiny and a renewed appreciation for breathing. It's been a hard month, one of the hardest I've ever faced. Though this time, it wasn't because of school or relationships or anxiety; it was change.

One month ago, I had three jobs, a car, and plans enough to sink a calendar ship. (I've just received word: calendar ships don't exist.)

Now, I have one job, no car, and dreams.

Dreams are different than plans, I think. Plans are concrete and controlled. Plans are rigid and stiff. Plans can change, but not without bent plastic and splintered wood (you can even hear it crack; listen, next time!). But dreams...well, dreams are plans you don't force into a box. When people say "follow your dreams," they're usually whimsically coating something like "create a future you want, one that has value and worth in society" and in this particular society, this country, this world as a whole, that also means "make money, get married, and be successful...even if it means you step on other people to get there." And I'm not about that. Money, possessions, perceived success - it all amounts to nothing in the end. I think "follow your dreams" is a little more fluid and a lot more optimistic than that. You still need plans to get to your dreams, but don't let your plans keep you from your dreams. For instance, I'm still planning on that beach tour. I'm planning on releasing my EP. I have plans to get these plans completed in the timeframe in which I want them completed. But these plans are means to the dreamy ends.

Don't set up so many hoops for yourself to jump through that you forget what's on the other side of the hoops. These changes that I made, some more voluntary than others, were the removal of the hoops. And now, instead of hoops, I'm choosing to lay stepping stones. Plans, still, but plans that are the next step, only, instead of an obstacle. I have ideas for books, screenplays, albums, you name it; taking the time to create these things are no longer hoops or obstacles, they're the journey to get to the dream. In fact, in many ways, the journey of creating is the dream.

It all may seem like the same thing, but it's not the same thing at all.

I may seem like the same person, but I'm not the same person at all.

-

I'll let this curtain close with lyrics from my favorite band, who recently released their final EP from beyond the grave (I can't believe they've been broken up this long already) at the most perfect time they could have chosen to release it.

Thank you all for reading this. I love you. Truly.

-

"You can open every doorway,
And never leave the room,
You can curate every fantasy,
And never see what's true.

But you already know that,
There's nothing left to prove.

So take its worth and weigh it,
It all amounts to nothing in the end.

There's a picture of a picture,
On every single screen,
On purpose, accidentally,
On the wall of the museum,

But you don't need me to tell you
That it doesn't mean a thing,

So take its worth an weigh it,
It all amounts to nothing in the end.

It's a strange interpretation,
All colorful and bright,
A forced perspective portrait
Of manipulated light.

But you already heard that,
It's all a waste of time.
Yeah, you already know that,
It's heavy on your mind.
No, I don't need to tell you
What's weighing on the line,
Because you already know that.

Now the only thing worth being
Is impossible to be,
Yeah, the only dream worth dreaming now
Is a new reality.

And I hate to disappoint you,
But I wouldn't count on me.

So take it all and make it
Into something worth it in the end."
- the Soil & the Sun, "Strange Interpretation" from Actual Replica Vol. II (2017)

--

lovelovelove,

Adam

A Patient of Patience: Reflections on 2016

It’s been a long year. Everyone knows it; we’ve resorted to personifying the abstract time period of twelve months just so we have something to blame for the difficulties both personal and public, and everything from celebrity deaths (the first of which, David Bowie, will continue to weigh on me for the rest of my life) to our verging on apocalyptic political situations. One thing remains constant, though, and it’s the unwavering fact that time takes its time.

When the clock hit midnight last year on New Year’s Eve, I was surrounded by friends with whom I had spent the previous year creating films, seeing films, and eating plenty of tacos every Tuesday. It was a different sort of New Year for me. I remember sitting on my friend’s bench in his living room (before he got an incredible new couch only a few weeks ago from when I’m writing this) and thinking to myself that the change from 2015 to 2016 felt less like the fresh start I had always associated with this “made up” holiday (yes, I know calendars are human constructs, but let us have some fun, sheesh!) and more like a rest, like sitting on a bench after a walk, recouping before continuing along the same path. It was new to me. I had written and starred in my first real short film (along with close to 100 other people, of course), recorded my first full-length electropop record in my bedroom, was in a romantic relationship where I actually felt loved instead of simply admired, was living in the same downtown apartment I had moved into the year before with the same one best friend I had been living with since I graduated college, grew closer to an ever-growing group of friends, and I felt optimistic in virtually every aspect of my life. I had it together. The world was mine for the taking as soon as my short film blew up the festival circuit and I was getting offers to write blockbuster smashes with million-dollar budgets. (Note: I never actually thought I would end up writing said movies…but you get what I was feeling, yeah? Hyperbole, yes? Okay.) And then, I heard something in myself say, “This year will be about patience. Lean not on your own understanding.” This isn’t out of the ordinary for me, and I’ve learned to listen to said voice, as it has never lead me astray, so I knew that I should probably pay attention to this. These words stayed with me, even though I had no idea what they meant at the time.

This past year has been, for all its peaks and valleys, for all its beginnings and endings, relatively static in some senses, though hissing and overwhelming in others. The short film screeched to a grinding halt when we ran out of money to finish it (though it will be finished, I assure you) and I’m reminded of this fact when the people in my life, though kind and eagerly interested, ask me, “So hey, when do I get to see Garden Party?” which is by no means an annoyance, but a reminder that the thing that had governed my entire life for months was now an afterthought, something for which I had (and still have) to wait to see completion. It’s out of my hands, really, and no one is more eager to see a final cut than me (and, you know, everyone else who worked on it). When my album came out in August of 2015, I was just excited to have finally written and recorded a full-length pop record, which was a dream of mine. I had plans to play shows, release hand-made physical copies of it, and make a music video or two, all in 2016. Well, I didn’t play any shows (though I’m planning my own mini-tour for Summer 2017), still haven’t released the physical copies (they are sitting in front of me as I type this, and they are so close to release I can almost taste it), and did in fact make a music video (yay!) which turned out wonderfully and is one of my favorite creative accomplishments of 2016, despite being filmed and edited in one afternoon with a budget of like five dollars for Post-It notes, which frankly makes it even better in my opinion. The romantic relationship I mentioned did end, which of course brings its own set of feelings that could fill another blog post entirely (but won’t because it’s not exactly something I want to discuss publicly), which is part of where that whole “lean not on your own understanding” thing came into the story, both providing solace and sting. I gained another roommate, which spawned an anxiety I hadn’t felt before (What if he grows to resent me? What if they decide they want to not live with me? What if I can’t find anywhere to live and I have to move back in with my mom, fulfilling the stereotype of “millennials can’t support themselves” because my current job can’t pay me enough to live on my own even when I work 50 hours a week? …I’m a dramatic fella sometimes), and I’m happy to say said anxiety dissipated immediately, as the addition of this new roommate has been nothing but positive, and I can’t believe I was worried for even a moment (even though human beings are naturally worried about things they have not yet experienced, but anyway) – this is one of my favorite things about 2016, truly. Speaking of a new roommate, this also brought about a new apartment! It’s huge, it’s quirky, and it’s my favorite living space I have ever had in my entire adult life. My bedroom is the stuff of dreams: I have a writing nook, a television by my bed with a Sega Genesis hooked up, and it is located in a tucked away room in the apartment so when I want to not be in the way, I’m not in the way. It’s perfect, but it took patience and leaning not on my own understanding. Apartment hunting is not fun, but the right place comes along when one is patient and perseveres (and totally gets lucky), even though the rent is higher. This year also required patience, and no small amount of faith, when one of my best friends and I needed to take time apart, to grow separately before we came back together. Without divulging too much personal detail (of which there is an abundance), I can say with certainty and relief that said friend and I are better than we ever have been, and I am utterly grateful that this friendship could be salvaged and saved. As far as my personal creative endeavors (of which, I’m learning, there are many – always), I didn’t complete any feature-length screenplays or novels this year, but I did write some new poetry for the first time in a long time, and started a multitude of new scripts, fiction, and other such things. I look forward to watching these newly planted seeds grow. And lastly, though selfishly I say “most importantly,” I learned to be patient with myself this year. I am still learning this, daily and actively. I’ve never been one to allow myself time to breathe; it’s always been out of desperation that I rest, running full-tilt until I burn myself out and am forced to recover, only to sprint again the moment I have a shred of replenished energy. This year taught me, more than any other year, that tending to one’s weariness, whether from wounds or basic exhaustion, is vital. I now have a number of ways to rest, to allow myself solace and solitude from a world that never stops moving, running, buzzing, photographing, documenting, promoting, liking, favoriting, tweeting, following, screaming, debating, laughing, singing, joking, searching, and existing at the highest possible volume and output. Instead of allowing myself to be consumed by this rapid and constant existence, I’ve learned to focus on one thing and enjoy it, not to gain any sort of social advancement or knowledge of plot before someone spoils it, not to be able to discuss it with someone when I next see them, not to prove I’m the bigger fan, not because someone said “dude, you gotta hear this record/watch this show/read this book,” but because I want to enjoy it, taste it, hear it, smell it, see it, soak myself in it, experience it, wholly and entirely. I have interests again outside the realm of self-promotion that I feel no desire to share with the social media masses, and they will stay that way – they will stay my own. I enjoy things and sometimes don’t feel the need to tweet about them (but it’s okay when I do, and knowing that is important as well). I’ve learned to be patient with myself, because the only way any of us can exist is one moment at a time. Moments can be home, so live in them. Yes, I want to move to a bigger city and take on bigger things, meet more people and see more places, drink more beer and eat more weird local cuisine – but to wish for something other than where you are, when you know you can’t or shouldn’t leave where you are, is only cheapening the life you are living. Find and create a home within yourself and live in it so every moment can be a home, or when it’s not a home, it’s an exhilarating journey into the unknown instead of just another “less-than” experience that you might document later if you can find the right filter. Find things that make you happy to take slowly and take them slowly, even if it’s the new Pokémon game or rewatching a favorite television show or film series you’ve seen countless times already, reading a book over the course of months instead of a week because every chapter should be savored, buying an album you haven’t heard and listening to it until you know it enough to decide if you like it or not (don’t skip a single song), or tasting every drop of a new beer and leaving the flavor on your tongue, or let every bite of your favorite ice cream melt in your mouth. Lick the bowl clean. Allow yourself to breathe, feel yourself grow, grant yourself grace and space to change, and enjoy the seasons when you don’t grow or change. Enjoy your own company. Take your time. Patience. Lean not on your own understanding. Patience.

This past year I’ve been playing a game for the Nintendo 3DS called The Legend of Zelda: Majora’s Mask. It’s a game I grew up playing, and when they rereleased it for the 3DS, I knew I had to play it again. The basic premise is: you are Link, the Hero of Time, who has just saved the Kingdom of Hyrule from destruction, but afterward, your fairy companion departs and you’re left to wander in search of her. While riding through a forest, you are attacked by a mischievous creature called Skull Kid, who has two fairies - one black and one white, wearing a terrifying and powerful mask. Eventually you fall into a dark pit and wake up in Termina, a land which has three days until the Moon falls from the sky and destroys everything. You are given the task to awaken four Guardian Beings, collect many strange masks, and stop Skull Kid before the world ends. You have three days to do this. Luckily, you have an instrument, The Ocarina of Time, that can send you back to the first day (though you lose many of your insignificant items) to start the process again. There are temples to solve in order to summon the aforementioned Guardians, plenty of lands to explore, and countless people to meet who have no idea that you are going through the same three days over and over as you help them with the problems in their daily life. This game requires patience, planning, and the ability to enjoy the same events many times while also tweaking habits and patterns to trigger other events.

Even though I could write an essay about this game as an allegory for dealing with grief and depression, living the same three days over and over while everyone you meet is unaware, wearing different masks in order to make it through the day, I’ll save that for another time. The reason I bring this up (besides looking at my life as if it’s a story…because it is, and I’m a sucker for metaphor and allegory in reality) is because of something I read recently on Tumblr that put this year into perspective for me: “Those who wait upon the Lord will find new strength. – Isiah 40:31” with the caption, “Even in the fruitless seasons, God is working in you as you wait and depend on Him. Your roots are growing deeper and your branches stronger in preparation for fruit in the next season.” This year felt fruitless. I know that sounds blunt, and after writing this post, I’m realizing it was not without its beauty and progress, without its fruit, but this year felt like a fruitless season oftentimes, waiting for something that seems as though it may never come, and being told to continue waiting, fruitless or otherwise. It was a long year. It was a hard year. It was a good year.

In Majora’s Mask, it’s only after you collect all of the masks through completing tasks and quests, conquer each temple to summon each Guardian, and wait three days until the Moon gets close enough for you to climb onto it, complete a final set of challenges, and face Skull Kid and his Mask once and for all that you can break the cycle of the repetitious three days. To try to climb onto the Moon before you’re ready will only lead to the destruction of Termina and the death of everyone. It takes patience. It doesn’t make sense, but you do it anyway. And only when you’ve been patient and worked hard, and have been patient even more, can your Quest reach its climax and conclusion, and you can finally greet the Dawn of a Fourth Day, a New Day.

I don’t know what the New Day of January 1, 2017 and the many days after which will hold. I don’t know if it will bear fruit or uproot me to be planted in a new field. I don’t know if I’ll see the end of it (though I hope I do, of course), and I don’t know how I will have changed by the time of its (yes, we get it, calendars are made up and time keeps going independently of human constructs – stop ruining fun) conclusion. Perhaps it will be another year of patience and leaning not on my own understanding. Perhaps it will be a year of action. Perhaps it will be a year of change. Perhaps it will be a year of tending to that which is already planted, with a small harvest or none, and perhaps it will be the best year of my life (until the next “best year of my life” arrives) with action and change and travel and experience of which I cannot begin to predict but will burst and overflow with life. Maybe I’ll cut my hair. Maybe I won’t cut my hair. I don’t know, but not knowing isn’t a problem – lean not on your own understanding and be patient. Growth will happen where you may not realize it, and strength and experience will come through seemingly meaningless repetition. Change may happen over months or in an instant. Time will continue to take its time, and I plan to live in every single moment I am given.

And now I can finally finish playing Majora’s Mask and welcome the Dawn of a New Day.

Happy New Year. Here’s to 2017.

lovelovelove,

Adam

The Next Day: David Bowie (January 8, 1947 - January 10, 2016)

Last night, a man died.

Or rather: last night, a man was announced to be dead, which initially sparked cries of “hoax,” but was then followed by millions of sad reactions and lyric quotations and old pictures flooding the internet when we realized it was true. (It pains me so, to type these words.)

David Bowie has died.

As many of you know, and I am but one man among countless human beings who say these exact words (especially now, whether others mean them or not), David Bowie was one, is one, of my favorite artists. Fortunately for me, I have many friends who know this, and I received many messages of condolences when they heard the news, some assuming that I already knew, and others breaking the news to me gently. What a beautiful thing, receiving comfort from those close to me due to the passing of someone I’ve never met.

On January 22, 2014, I purchased The Next Day on vinyl, The Rise and Fall of Ziggy Stardust and the Spiders From Mars on used CD, and a used vinyl copy of Let’s Dance. I purchased these with a very good friend of mine, and I chose these particular albums due to a “beginners guide to Bowie” blog post that another one of my favorite artists compiled. The day I started my journey into the work of David Bowie is one I remember fondly, and think back on often. Since then I have acquired and heard almost every one of his 28 studio albums, whether on vinyl or CD, watched almost every one of his film roles, attended his travelling “David Bowie Is” exhibit in Chicago with someone very close to me who also adores Bowie’s art, and have otherwise become what is known to most people as a “superfan.” I’ve had people send me links to articles about his work, give me old magazines containing interviews with him, and make me hand-drawn Christmas cards displaying his likeness. My mother shares the same birthday as David Bowie. My best friend and roommate called a record store and claimed a rare copy of his album Low to give me on my 25^th birthday, which was the very copy I had been eyeing for months and was unable to purchase myself. I went to Los Angeles with the same friend who was with me when I bought those aforementioned first three albums, and he took pictures of me by Bowie’s star on the sidewalk, and went with me to record stores where I found the latter two installments in the Berlin Trilogy. I received a special edition copy of Labyrinth from the same person who went with me to Chicago. And just three days ago, my girlfriend took me to as many record stores as needed, in a city neither of us knew well, in order to buy David Bowie’s now-final album, Blackstar on vinyl, because CD just wouldn’t cut it quite yet. All of this is to say that my love for David Bowie’s work is known and celebrated with many people in my life who love me, and that beautiful message isn’t even why I sat down to write all this.

But it is now.

Originally, I was going to write a long piece about legacy, and how the man has died but the art will live on, and the Bowie we all know cannot die because his music and movies and books and whatnot shall always exist as long as humanity exists. I was going to write about how he has “earned” a peaceful death because his life was so full, and his life was full. It was full of writing songs, singing lyrics, dancing and performing for others, but it was full of experiences and mistakes as well. And it was full of love, from strangers to family; this man was loved, and inspired love. His music entered my life at a time when I needed to lose myself in a new exploration, to be inspired by an artistic innovator, and to feel like someone else “got” it, but what I didn’t know is just how much his music and art would inspire new friendships, inspire my own music and art, or most importantly, bring me closer to the people already in my life. And isn’t that the point? David Bowie sang countless songs about loneliness, confusion, pain, redemption, hope, and love. He brought people together. It’s not David Bowie we love, but rather the way he brought us all closer together under the blanket of being human, and inspired one more day, one more step, one more try.

Thank you, David Bowie. My life is better with your words and music and image in it. And that’s all I, or any artist, should really want from a legacy: to inspire hope and love in someone else.

Just for one day.

lovelovelove,

Adam

A Fresh Coat of Paint

I haven't written anything for this blog in over a year.

Needless to say, plenty has happened in that time. Speaking solely in relation to this blog: I changed its name, and removed irrelevant posts (things that weren't even fun to read for nostalgia's sake), but decided to keep it anyway, moving forward with a less uptight attitude concerning its content instead of creating an entirely new blog. For instance, I used to write these entries during landmarks in my life - birthdays, and the like. I also used to only title the entries with song lyrics (save for the Prague-related posts), which I may still do sometimes, but I'm not binding myself by it any longer. I suppose you could say July 31 is a landmark, considering it's a new month tomorrow and all, but I actually just had a thought the other day -- it's not about months. It's about getting water and sunshine today, so we can grow into tomorrow. Months are a human construct, and although it can be positive to have a mental fresh start at the beginning of a new month, I've learned that such a mindset can also prove dangerous if you let it determine your actions. We each have more control over our lives than we allow ourselves (though some people allow themselves too much control, which can result in selfishness and, in my experience, an utter trainwreck of human relationships), which means we don't have to write an entire month off as tainted or impure because of a negative experience in the middle of it.

So why do the minor changes I mentioned matter? I mean, this is just a casual internet blog, used for my own decompression and not for anything particularly profound. In fact, this entry is going to be a meandering spill of words from a water glass in my head. It may seem disjointed and all over the place, but it's all coming from the same source, so I guess that counts as a connection. The point is: it matters because it's still change and growth, no matter how small.

As I type this, I almost want to change the title to "A Glass Can Only Spill What It Contains," which would continue the contradiction already begun by the fact that I'm posting this right before the first of a new month, because those would be song lyrics, and song lyrics and landmarks are two things I'm claiming no longer have constricting influence over what I decide to post in this blog. I'm overthinking it.

Beyond the changes to this blog, there have been quite a few personal changes in the past year and a half. Bullet-point time!

- I'm still living in Grand Rapids, but it's an indefinite thing now. Adam from 2013 would be upset with present Adam for that, and if that's not a sign of growth, I don't know what is. I just know that LA was not the place I should set my sights on for the next move. I'm letting life unfold here, and boy is it ever.
- I got a new tattoo this past June. It's on my chest, and I love it. That ink circle holds so much meaning to me. Let's get coffee and talk about it.
- A script I wrote was filmed last April. It's short, but everyone involved was amazing and talented, and I can't wait to see the final product. This project also prepared us (a little bit) for this next bullet point.
- If you've been on my Facebook at all, you've seen a slew of promotion for a short film I wrote called Garden Party. We're shooting it in a couple weeks, but for the past two months, it's been a beast all its own. We have a website (gardenpartyinvite.com), an Instagram and Twitter, a Facebook, and a mini-series based on the character I'm playing (go to YouTube and search "Just A Sip With Stan." Trust me.), which is surreal in itself since I created this character and now he has his own mini-series. This whole project has been one of the best things to ever happen to me, and I cannot wait to film it.
- Last year on my birthday, I released 25, which is an EP by my lo-fi music project called Up n Adam. It's just me playing all of the instruments and mixing it and doing everything myself (except the album cover, which was shot by my friend Chloë, and the mastering, which was done by my brother Nick), and I'm still proud of it. But it's nothing compared to this next bullet point.
- Tomorrow, I'm going to announce the title and release date for the debut album from Up n Adam. It's going to be 12 songs of pure Summer and sugar, falling under the only genre that properly describes my music: ukulelectropop. I just listened to the final master mix of the album, and I can say without any doubt that this is how I've been trying to make Up n Adam sound since its creation. I'm so proud of this album. I can't wait for you to hear it. This album will also have original artwork by Chloë Malmquist (chloemalmquist.tumblr.com) that looks exactly how the album sounds: warm, fun, and sweet. Listen on bandcamp (upnadam.bandcamp.com) or follow me on Twitter (@upnadammusic). And thus completes the shameless plug for my music.
- As far as current in-progress work goes, I'm working on like four short scripts for comedy sketches and mini-series, a new feature-length screenplay, a few new songs in the works already, and those usual novels, novellas, etc. I always have something I'm working on, and I'm very much alright with that. Life is good.

--

From here on out, my plan for this blog is to...well...write in it. I was asked to do a track-by-track explanation for my album, so that will be coming soon, and I'll probably post some music reviews, book reviews, life updates, and other such readables. But as for now, this reintroduction comes to a close.

Be kind. Hug people.

lovelovelove,

Adam

24

Hello, everyone!

I know, I know...two posts in one day? This new year has brought about a new Adam!

Just kidding. That last one was an album review. This one is a life update.

I said yesterday on my Tumblr blog that I had big news on all fronts, and that I would reveal it all today. Well, here it is.

Firstly, and obviously, I am twenty-four years old today.
Yesterday was a perfect ending to a rough year of being 23. I don't know what it was, but there was something about 23 that just felt uncomfortable to me, and I must say that barely a day into 24 feels like a much better fit. I'm loving celebrating in a new city, despite not having done anything particularly exclusive to Grand Rapids (except sitting in this coffee shop). The point of this paragraph is: life is good, and life as 24 is great.
(I'm kind of tired of writing about fresh starts all the time. I think I need to make some messes.)

Secondly, and slightly related to firstly, I got my own ukulele for my birthday! Which means I can write new music whenever I want and maybe even do some shows if people need opening slots filled where you don't have to pay the performer! Woo! In that musical vein, I have some Christmas tunes in the works for an EP of holiday ditties, as well as a renewed desire to work on this full-length I've been talking about so much. It's going to happen, dang it.
Plus, Brittany and I have talked about starting a music project together, and Riley half-mentioned it last time I was in Kalamazoo, so who knows? My life could be getting pretty dang musical in the near future.

Thirdly, and most excitingly, I met with Matthew Miller (director of that short film I was in) to discuss future projects with him. We have two in the works. One of them is based on a short story I wrote (that pacifist parable I mentioned before) which might film in November. The other is quite possibly the funniest, smartest, and all-around best script idea I will have had the pleasure of working on to date. If we really go for it, which we are, it will be a big endeavor that will probably film in the Spring. I just need to write the script. My excitement is sky-high.

A few other things to mention:

I had an incredible weekend in Kalamazoo this past Friday/Saturday. I attempted an epic bar crawl with Riley, went to a pumpkin patch with a bunch of swell folks, and then watched my incredibly talented and heartbreakingly brilliant friend Lizzy play Fantine in Les Miserables at the Civic. She floored me with that performance. Seriously, go see it if you can. It's worth the ticket price and crippling depression (from the story), I promise.

Sunday night, I got pizza with my mom and brother and roommate at Brickroad Pizza here in Grand Rapids. It was delicious. And pizza.

Yesterday was great as well. I wrote a bit, walked a bit, and enjoyed life a lot. Then I went to work, which was painfully slow, but ended on a high note. Then I walked outside to see my driver's side rearview mirror hanging by its cords. I was angry at first, until I realized I could see this as a metaphor for not letting the past slow me down. It's also a metaphor for how I need glue, and then after I fix it, it can be a metaphor for using the past to not crash you in the present. Yay car metaphors!

And now I'm wearing a new shirt, having a spontaneous birthday, and loving every single person I come across today. All of these birthday wishes have me feeling so very loved, and I can't thank any and all of you enough.

Well, I think that's all I have today. It's nice not having every single post result in a really heavy, really long collection of really heavy, really long thoughts. May your Autumn's be blessed, full of love, and probably pumpkin-spiced.

Here's to 24. May it be the best year of my life so far, but only until 25 and beyond.

lovelovelove,
Adam

First Reaction Album Review: Bradley Hathaway - How Long

I don't usually write album reviews, but that might need to change, and this is a good place to start. Here is my review for Bradley Hathaway's new album How Long, which will be released on November 5th.

You can pre-order the album (and hear a great song from it!) here: http://bradleyhathaway.bandcamp.com/

Since Bradley is an unsigned, independent artist, any and all support will mean the world to him, I'm sure. This is one of the most genuine and loving human souls I've ever met, and if you enjoy his music, please support his means to continue making it.

Okay, here's my review!

lovelovelove

Adam

-

Bradley Hathaway – How Long

Yesterday was the last day of my life as a twenty-three year-old, and it was also the day I received an email from one of my favorite musical artists, Bradley Hathaway. You see, I backed a project of his on Kickstarter a couple of years ago, and the album has still yet to be released, officially. This email was an apology for the wait, but also a link to download a digital version of the album before the release date (as well as a few more apologies, because he’s such a sweet man). The album is titled How Long, and yes, the joke has been made countless times since he revealed the title about “how long” it took him to put out the album. It still makes me smile.

I’ve been a huge fan of Bradley’s work for many years. I learned about his output between the release of his first album of spoken-word poetry (All The Hits So Far) and his first album of music (The Thing That Poets Write About, The Thing That Singers Sing About). I saw an incredible live performance at Cornerstone Festival 2008 in Illinois, where he played his new record, A Mouth Full of Dust, in its entirety. It was then that I was branded by and fell in love specifically with the song “Look Up,” and shared it with many of my friends. I own every release he has ever put out, and I am looking forward to owning any and all new efforts. I still cry when I hear “The Hug Poem” and I still consider The Thing That Poets Write About, The Thing That Singers Sing About to be not only a staple in my favorite albums of all time, but one of the most beautiful, humble, and heartfelt explorations of love I have ever heard. A Mouth Full of Dust, and A Thousand Angry Panthers (the EP that followed Mouth Full), break my heart more and more with each listen, in the best way. I love Bradley’s music, period.

Needless to say, this email brightened my entire day, and I quickly downloaded How Long. But something told me I should wait until today, my twenty-fourth birthday, to listen to it. I am so glad I did.

In the email, Bradley said to express the feelings each song brought, so I’m going to review the album by describing what I was doing, track by track, in the most poetic way possible, since this first listen was a spiritual experience in itself. Bradley’s music, for me, has been best experienced surrounded by nature and the outdoors. I’ve had countless moments of closeness and clarity with God while walking or driving with Bradley’s voice in my ears, so it only seemed appropriate to go for a walk while listening to the new album. This morning, I put on my headphones, stepped out of my door into an overcast Autumn, and walked with no predetermined destination. I pressed play and took the first step.

(All of these street names, people, animals, and events actually exist and happened to me during this walk. There is something greater in this world, my friends. If you slow down, you can see it clear as day.)

How Long 

I first heard “Daddy’s Name” while walking over crisp leaves to the sidewalk. There was a dog pawing at a window from inside a house across the road. I smiled, and turned onto Page Street.

I first heard “How Long” on Spring Street. When he sang the line about the breeze, wind brushed my cheek; when he sang the line about the leaves, one fell in front of me, and I felt God everywhere.

I first heard “Courthouse” while sitting on the front steps of a church.

I first heard “Georgia” while waiting for a light to change, so I could safely cross the street.

I first heard “He Drives” and felt my heart breaking, yet held together with loving hands. A smile on my face and tears in my eyes, I felt like Bradley wrote this song about and for me. As it ended, I saw a man hammering a nail on his front porch.

I first heard “If I Should Die” and thought I’d never smiled so much during a song about death, and wondered if that was the point.

I first heard “Been So Long” on Sweet Street, missing a girl I have always been in love with and never known and may never know, but I love her still. A man was painting a white window frame as I passed.

I first heard “Beer Can” standing in front of a locked gate, closed off from a beautiful yard. When I turned around, the street curved in a way I didn’t like, so I returned to the gate, which was still locked. I thought I once held the key, but then I knew I never had and never will.

I first heard “So Far” when I felt sad. I walked home and knew I’d find Jesus at my door.

I first heard “You Look So Pretty” when I saw the place by my apartment where a pretty girl smiled back at me one time. A leaf fell when I least expected it. As the album closed, I opened my front door once again.

Overall, How Long is musically Bradley Hathaway’s best album, hands down. His sound has evolved from a humble simplicity to an abrasive disparity to now: a warm Southern nostalgia, slow-dripping with memory, love, pain, grace, heartbreak, and hope. His voice has never sounded better, and his instruments have taken a fuller feel. Lyrically, (I’ll need to get to know the album better before I can comment properly, but) his words are more mature and the stories more complex than his previous work. I look forward to learning the words so I may sing them along with Bradley if I get the chance to see him on this tour.

How Long is an album that will carry me through this Autumn season with song hugs and memories of loves past, with hopes for the future. Thank you, Bradley. The new record was worth the wait, no matter How Long it took to be released.

The Sound of Settling: An Autumn Update 2013

Hi, everyone! So, before I post this post, I want to give a little disclaimer. As I say in the post, I wrote this at 1am two nights ago while wired out of my mind on caffeine. I still mean every word I wrote, but boy do I sound loopy. And it gets pretty heavy at one point…so yeah, just a heads up. Okay. Here’s a post.

(I'll probably write on this blog more frequently now. I always say that though.)

-

To be honest, I wasn’t planning on writing this tonight.

It is now October, the first, and I am wide awake.

Brittany and I found a coffee shop close to our new apartment in Grand Rapids. There, we have wifi and can watch How I Met Your Mother in shifts, as there is only one pair of headphones in our possession at the moment. It was probably a mistake to drink coffee at such a late hour, but I was too excited about returning to the characters I hold so dear, as well as finding a new coffee-supplying location to frequent, so here we are: wide awake at 1am on the first of October, 2013.

When I said I wasn’t planning on writing this tonight, I don’t mean I wasn’t planning on writing it at all. Then again, when else would I write it but tonight?

I’ve been meaning to write another post giving some sort of “life update” in detail for a while now, but the timing has been off. For instance, the past month of my life has involved an immeasurable amount of endings, goodbyes, loose ends being tied, metaphorical deaths, as well as beginnings, hellos, new ends being loosened, and metaphorical births. I simply have not had the time to sit and get my thoughts in order. Until tonight, that is, with coffee pumping through the streams in my body and forcing my eyelids open.

Before I really begin, I want to clarify something that doesn’t really need clarification: I don’t write these posts, however sparse they may be, because I feel my life is important enough that the public needs to be updated on my every change. I write these posts because I need to feel in control of the organization of the events in my “lives” (creative, personal, etc.) despite not having any real control at all. I have some, sure, such as what paths to continue upon or progress or abandon, but when it comes down to it, much of my life is controlled by the lives of others. We all work together in an odd sort of collaboration to further our search for love (and I don’t mean romantic love, obviously), peace, and life in general. I digress. The point is: I’m not writing this because I feel I am special enough to warrant your attention, but rather to keep myself from becoming overwhelmed by myself.

I suppose I’ll begin with the obvious: as of the fourteenth of September, I have been living in a new city. That city is Grand Rapids, Michigan. I was nervous about the move, as is true with most people who move for the first time for a reason other than school or family, and I would be lying if I said the nervousness has dissipated. I feel more at ease after two weeks, yes, but I do not feel comfortable.  And that is a good thing. I have yet to connect with more than one or two “potential friends” and I still get turned around very easily when it comes to directions. However, this is exactly what I needed.

My farewell to Kalamazoo was excessive, to say the least. There were three going-away parties, visits to every major location that meant something to me for one final goodbye, coffee or beer and/or hugs with every single friend (well, okay, not every friend) that I would not be seeing for an extended period. A lot (but not all) of this had to do not with my college life, but with my work life. My coworkers at Celebration! Cinema Crossroads were, are, and always will be like family to me, and have seen me through a great deal of highs and lows. They gave me a sendoff(s) I will never forget, and helped me release my grip on my “college life.” You know, that mess from ages 18-22 that brought about heartbreak, anxiety, vices, and all kinds of things that I’ll need to get over for the rest of my life. It wasn’t all bad, though, as that time period also brought about an expanded sense of adventure, new confidences, new or strengthened friendships, honed skills, broadened tastes in music, film, and art, and more positives than negatives, ultimately. But with these goodbyes, I let go of that time in my life and stepped foot on the path I’ve been looking forward to my entire life. And that path is, well, my entire life.

Now that I have moved to a new city, with no other purpose than the one I feel I was born to do, I can finally begin living the life I feel called to live: the life of someone who creates stories and art that will make the world a brighter place and change hearts for the better, spread love to everyone, and bring even just a shred of glory to the One who created me. That’s really all I want to do, and now that I read those again, I realize that’s all I’ve been striving to do my whole life, and I’ve actually been doing it this whole time. But it’s different now.

This year in Grand Rapids actually feels similar to my past year in Kalamazoo in the sense that I’m still “preparing” for my shot at “success” as a writer. My plan as of now (which could change for all I know, but probably won’t) is to move to California after my year here to actually attempt a break-in of the film industry. (Riley, if you’re reading this right now, stop freaking out about the parentheses in that last sentence. Seriously. And also I miss you a ton.)

I want to lose the first word in my “aspiring screenwriter” status. I want to help create films. I want films I have written to be created. I want to see my name on a movie poster and in the credits on screens across the country, or even the world. I want my ideas to be the subject of “after-movies” discussion, where two people get to know each other better because they spent anywhere from a few minutes to a few hours talking about the ideas or perspectives I’ve helped present in a two-hour visual medium. I want to be ripped apart by pretentious critics. I want a small-town cinephile that wants to also help create films to see something I’ve had a hand in, and write a review of it for his film blog he started with one of his best friends. It may be short-lived, as are most careers in such a decaying industry, but I know that. I am going to pursue the chance to make even the smallest spark.

I know this all sounds crazy. Believe me. You can tell me how unlikely it is, or how my dreams are too big, or how I have no idea what I’m talking about, or whatever. I know all of that. But I also know that I’m only young once. I won’t be 23 again. Or 24. Or 25. Or 26. I have my entire life to settle down, get a “real job,” and start a family (because I really do want to start a family someday). But I don’t want to succumb to the horrifying 21^st century “American dream” of being closer to debt-free with each paycheck from a lukewarm job, a messy family life, and being consumed by regret that I didn’t pursue the insane desires of my youth. I’m going to go for this, and I’m going to learn a whole hell of a lot. I’m going to see just how much of the worst isn’t over and how many best days of my life I have yet to experience. I’ve seen a lot of people my age (and even younger) already curl up and forget the wild desires and lunatic dreams they had when “grown-ups” would ask them what they wanted to be when they too grew up. So many people barely a quarter of the way through their lives assume the worst is behind them, assume that’s a good thing, and create a bland self-fulfilling prophecy of the “okay” and the “fine” being how they spend the rest of their existence in this beautiful and terrifying life. I know I won’t “make a lot of money,” but even if I do, what does it matter? I will see things that not many people see and do things that, though silly or odd or whatever, not many people do. I want to suck every drop of something out of the time I’m alive and explode in some sort of flash or flood or fire that shines life and love onto everyone I come into contact with while I’m breathing.

So get ready, because the prologues and expositions are ending and I see chapter one speeding at me. And I’m standing in the middle of the street with no intention of moving out of the way.

Wow, sorry, that got really, really heavy. Ahem.

My plans for the year are kind of the “usual” for me in the sense that I’ll be continuing all of the creative pursuits I have been. I’ll be writing screenplays, both short and long. I’ll be continuing the film blog with Riley. I’ll be writing poetry when the mood hits me. I’ll be writing short stories, and perhaps working on my novel that I’ve had in the works for a few years. I’ll be writing, recording, and playing music (that I know is bad, okay? I’ve heard myself sing. Gosh. I do it because I like it), and hopefully playing a few live shows, if I can. And obviously I’ll be watching a ton of movies.

Some new things, however, are actual creation of some of these short films with a few different people, and a continued collaboration with my very good friend and spectacularly talented filmmaker Matthew Miller and his production company. There also may be a musical collaboration between my roommate and I, where we really divulge into our twee hipster existence and pull some songs out of them. I also really want to try my hand at painting. I don’t know why. It just sounds fun.

…and wow, I’m really crashing from that caffeine high I was on this whole time.

Let’s do some bullet points! Obviously most of this post has to do with my creative life, both short- and long-term. Here are a few goals in bullet form:

-       write another full-length screenplay

-       write a bunch of short screenplays

-       record and release the Up n Adam full-length

-       record and release a split with my brother Nick, and maybe another Christmas EP

-       write more for the film blog

-       write short stories, poetry, longer work, etc.

-       paint a bit, perhaps.

And here are some bullet points about my personal life, which I really haven’t discussed a whole lot in this post:

-       I’m working on making new friends.

-       I miss my friends that are already friends so much. Seriously. So much. It kills me to see pictures of you all hanging out without me. But keep having fun. Just know that I miss you and I wish I were there.

-       My new job at Celebration! Woodland is fantastic. Really. I love it there. More than I expected, honestly.

-       I’m still single, and although I’d worried about that for the past couple months, I’m actually starting to think I’m going to stay this way for quite a while. But hey, who knows. How I Met Your Mother started back up and I’ve been all kinds of swoon-y lately, between that and The OC. Even though Finn and Fire Princess broke up in Adventure Time. Poor guy. It’s for the best, though.

I am out of things to cover…but this post is already long enough. And it was totally not what I thought I wanted to write about, but hey, I feel better now that all of that came out, so it can’t be all bad. Or any bad. No bad. Breaking bad (oh crap, now this post is like everything else on the internet lately. I’ve still never watched that show…oops).

Okay, I should probably go to bed now.

I love you all. Sorry for the length of this post. You didn’t have to read it, but if you did, let me know and I’ll give you a huge hug next time I see you.

lovelovelove,

Adam