Navel Gazing: LA Story

This is where I over-share about my life, spilling all my thoughts, ideas, fears, and aspirations onto the page for everyone to see. Like you even care.

When I was in college at Boston University, I took a job as the Sports Information Director at the Wentworth Institute of Technology. I was badly overmatched at the job, which required more time than a full-time student like myself could give. I left after a semester, but not before I came across something I would keep close to my heart for the next 17 years and counting.

It was tacked to a wall in the Athletic Department, a white piece of paper with some printing on it. I have no idea who placed it there -– it didn't belong among the sweaty men and locker room talk. This is what it read:

IF I HAD MY LIFE TO LIVE OVER

I'd dare to make more mistakes next time. I'd relax, I would limber up. I would be sillier than I have been this trip. I would take fewer things seriously. I would take more chances.I would climb more mountains and swim more rivers. I would eat more ice cream and less beans. I would perhaps have more actual troubles, but I'd have fewer imaginary ones.

You see, I'm one of those people who live sensibly and sanely hour after hour, day after day. Oh, I've had my moments, And if I had it to do over again, I'd have more of them. In fact, I'd try to have nothing else. Just moments, one after another, instead of living so many years ahead of each day.I've been one of those people who never goes anywhere without a thermometer, a hot water bottle, a raincoat and a parachute. If I had to do it again, I would travel lighter than I have.

If I had my life to live over, I would start barefoot earlier in the spring and stay that way later in the fall. I would go to more dances. I would ride more merry-go-rounds. I would pick more daisies.

Nadine Stair
Louisville, Kentucky
85 years old

I photocopied that sheet of paper, and have kept the increasingly tattered copy with me -– tacked to walls in my workplace, taped to a bookshelf next to my desk at home – and looked to it often for inspiration. I even used it to explain a number of life decisions -– the choice to leave multiple jobs, even as a reason to move to LA from Boulder, CO. But like any great quote, or philosophy, or advice, it eventually loses the rush of understanding that once accompanied it and sinks back into the background. Even epiphanies whither on the vine.

You get lulled into some kind of haze, in which you seem to be wearing blinders. You focus on just what’s in front of you, and you lose sight of where you are in the big picture. Like a castaway adrift in a lifeboat, the scenery still looks the same, but you’ve drifted so far off course, you can never get back. This is how marriages are ruined, how people become stuck in professions they hate, why mid-life crises happen.

This is exactly what was happening to me until recently. I was so concerned with making it as a screenwriter, I failed to notice this pursuit was making me miserable. It’s not the writing, per se. I still love to write –- the rush of inspiration, the challenge of development, the thrill of executing an idea –- it’s everything which had surrounded it that was making me miserable.

You see, to achieve my goal –- making a living wage as a screenwriter -– I had to cozy up to several unattractive propositions: living in LA*, employing agents and managers with whom I didn’t necessarily see eye-to-eye, working with any producer who’d pay (or even promise to), etc. Kowtowing to these ugly realities slowly ate away at my soul, and I only realized when it started to kill my joy for writing. In addition, the money from our pitch sale is running out, and I’ve been unable to find a good job (due in most part to the fact I haven’t had a “real” job in about 10 years). My wife and I want to start a family eventually, but since you need a stable income for something like that, we seemed to be drifting further and further from that goal.

That’s when I realized: I don’t even need to be in LA to write anymore. With all the progress made in communicating via the Internet -- e-mail, IM, teleconferencing, Scipe, even a screenwriting program which allows two people to work on the same document simultaneously –- I could be a screenwriter from anywhere. When I first came out, it was a necessity -– I didn’t know anyone in Hollywood, and more importantly, they didn’t know me. But I’ve made my connections in town, I rarely go to many meetings anymore (and could always do them by phone in a pinch), and I’ve established myself (at least a bit) by selling a pitch. My writing partner, Barry, will still live here, in case any face-to-face work must be done in town. So what’s really keeping me here?

That realization excited me, and when I found out an old friend in Boulder had a job waiting for me if I wanted it, that excitement grew. My decision (along with my wife, of course) to move back to Boulder felt incredibly freeing. So was firing our managers, who were making the development/writing process a living hell. Once I freed myself from these uncomfortable constraints, the inspiration returned. And the ticking clock -– knowing I’ll only be here to work with Barry in person until early next year -– lends needed urgency to our current script, a project we’re both passionate about (but have been putting off for too long in order to write more commercial material).

I know that by moving, I may close doors which held opportunities in show business, but sometimes in life you need to make a change, and sometimes that change includes a shuffling of priorities. I still hope to keep writing in Boulder and eventually “make it” as a screenwriter, but I’m not willing to put my life on hold any longer to achieve that goal. At this moment, my dreams of having a family, my mental health, and my (and my wife's) overall happiness all have to trump any career strategy.

Right now, it’s time to ride some merry-go-rounds and pick some daisies.

* When a friend recently asked me the reasons why I'd prefer living in Boulder to living in LA, this is what I came up with off the top of my head:
--No traffic
--No smog
--No road rage
--No high speed car chases
--No pretense/attitude/douchebags
--Easier to meet people, make friends
--No lines at movie theaters/restaurants/bars
--Much more fun/less exclusive night scene
--More parking (doesn't sound like a big deal until you live here)
--More beautiful scenery
--Better/older friends already out there (2 best friends from college)
--No police helicopters circling above our apartment all through the night every Fri/Sat
--No long commutes to work (both our commutes are 30+ min. even though we work in completely opposite directions), errands, and friends (I have friends I don't see just because they live too far away)
--Less taxes (here I had to pay to become a small business so I could work as a writer)
--Less psychos/crime: Just in the last few weeks, a SWAT team showed up at out apartment building, broke down our neighbors door & dragged him off in cuffs, and an arsonist began burning cars on our street in the middle of the night. Previously, I've had someone steal parts of my cars 3 times -- once stealing my muffler, once stealing my rearview mirror, and once just stealing everything in my glove box -- and my downstairs neighbor once woke up to a homeless man standing naked over her bed masturbating.
--Better economy: For the price we pay for our little apartment out here, we can have a 3 bedroom house on Sunshine Canyon (a beautiful spot) in Boulder, with a garage, a fireplace and a huge deck overlooking a forest and lake.
--Better place to raise a family (I have more than one married friend who refuses to have kids until they leave LA because they wouldn't want to raise one here)
--Did mention "no traffic" yet? Seriously, this can not be over-emphasized
--For Andrea: Boulder universally listed as one of US's top 10 cities for animal-friendliness, environmental-friendliness, and organic/vegetarian food options