Write About Love

I always wondered if the title of the album is a pun on “right.” Can you be right about love? Were you right about love, and it being something so heavy that you would have to write about it?

For as long as I can remember, I’ve wanted to write. In grade school, I imagined myself being R.L. Stine with his Goosebumps books. You have to remember, this is long before Google, so searching for what he looked like was out of the question.

In high school, I fell in love with movies, and I imagined becoming that writer/director combination. I learned about the directors all the cool kids liked – Stanley Kubrick. This was also when Tim Burton was “goth” and Kevin Smith was an indie genius.

In college, I dug deeper. Orson Welles became a personal hero. David Lynch was good at messing with your mind. Darren Aronofsky was clever, and low budget. Richard Linklater was…low budget.

After college, the digging continued. As did the hopes of many other filmmakers. Christopher Nolan was worth researching. Wes Anderson released a handful of great movies. Other low budget things caught my eyes, namely Primer.

I also dug into what I was positive was my genre – dystopias. I watched Dark City. I loved Blade Runner. I also got lost in Hollywood – Matrix and Matrixesque spinoffs. Then, something happened.

You see, after college, I was wondering what I was doing with my life. I thought a lot, and usually nothing good or conclusive, but I thought. I found out about philosophers who may or may not have paralleled my concerns. Albert Camus. Sartre. Neitzsche. I got into Deism, and dabbled in Buddhism.

In turn, I found what may have been hidden treasure. I discovered a cheap copy of Orson Welles’ The Trial. I knew the name from Citizen Kane – who hasn’t? At first I didn’t get it. Why is this man being pursued? It is unclear what he did wrong, and in the end he accepts his fate. Is that all there is to life?

After moving out, I caught on to what was going on – or so I interpreted. I had to spend wisely, if at all, while being out on my own. I couldn’t have fun like I once did. If I drank, I couldn’t get trashed because I had an apartment to take care of. In 2009 when I moved out I didn’t realize that. In 2013, three and half years after moving out, I am used to it.

You see, I thought writing was a childhood dream. And I realized, I had to live an adult waking life. It was a nightmare!

The Trial has themes of feeling guilty and age and loss. Being out on your own, with no one to protect you, you have feelings of guilt and loss and age. I should not have bought that wall-sized poster of ants because now I can’t afford rent!

I realized that I wasn’t living in a dystopia, as much as I was living in a social dystopia. Life isn’t hard, it is social pressures that are hard. You have to have money! You have to have friends! You have to not just survive but thrive!

You see, for the longest time, I thought that was my genre. I was positive I was put here, just to show people how backwards the society we live in is. And so I read 1984. And I read Brave New World. And I watched Synecdoche NY and Brazil – more examples of society preventing you from doing what you want. But if you learn to content where you are, you won’t have these troubles (of course, we’re back the Buddhism thing – I want to do nothing but meditate and enlighten. But to enlighten I have to get up and show people peace! And if I don’t show them peace then what good is meditating?).

And then I grow up. And I love. And I lose. And I read Warm Bodies.  And I love, or so I think. And I lose. And I hurt. And I dwell. And I reflect. And I watch Warm Bodies. And I realize that love can bring new life to things.

But I think about that forced genre. The idea of something creepy falling in love. Hey, I know my flaws. I’m part of the internet age, I stalk – I’m creepy!

And I realize, it isn’t a social dystopia. It’s human interaction. It’s love. Write about love.

And that’s why I’m extra happy I’m getting into Star Trek – now do those videos make sense? Man can travel the stars, and all that will persist is human drama. The apocalypse can occur and what will remain? Human drama.

And I realize, being that creep and being in love is the perfect analogy to being human. And I write while I take a break from the internet during Lent. And I write about a werewolf who matures and stays human. An adult human.

And I realize, as much as I’ve been hurt, I’m still turning into into a creative outlet. And I realize, there are creatures in our subconscious and ancient myths who can add to things we feel in day to day life.

And while yes, I am writing on a blog, and wow is this a long entry, I don’t feel this is me. I did not take journalism in college. I took art. I studied media communications, and focused on video production.

We all want to be that director and win an Oscar. But for as long as I can remember, I’ve wanted to write. I can write here. Or I can explain lessons I’ve learned without the aide of movies or music, and I just write.