four

the solo dance party in my living room, my office desk chair, my car, and kitchen, gosh blasting on repeat, is just a bassy distraction; i have to be quiet.

silence and space have always been hard for me – i like to hold all the hard things of the world loud and close until they soften and can be spread out before me. i want to see through them. i want them to see through me.

but today i am quiet, watching the minutes slip closer to that imperceptible moment in which the sun returns to a spot it only finds once a year. four years ago i marked it out from the rest of time –charging down the path toward today – with one simple question. and it's amazing to think that it was just one question that the years and i enthusiastically hog piled ourselves upon.

the years, they are both my friends and enemies who just don't know how to settle down. and tonight we are a rowdy and unapologetic bunch, with nothing much to do except hang the first thing on the walls of my new home. all the while, the word four, said too many times throughout the day, begins to sound like it's from another language.

no title

it's taken me two and a half years to do something i thought would take two months.

i am here though–still–moving through life, resonating in connections, moving toward beauty, and most importantly raging an ongoing war with the utter paralysis only perfectionism can inflict. the only reason i'm here today, finishing the all important task i came home from alabama with is because i have not been able to give up. even in my silence. even in my inaction.

i have a film to make and a minute step to take toward a dream i've had for decades. and i have a voice and drive to answer to in myself: a clear and unwavering directive to channel this power and i have of bringing people toward openness and vulnerability, toward a clarity of emotions and purpose and hope, and somehow make that into some Thing. i still am unsure of what exactly. i am definitely unsure of how this will support me or satisfy my ambitions, but i know it's somewhere ahead. and i know giving voice here, breathing intent into sentences for others to witness, i am one small step closer.

and on this road i have a friend, one who i crossed paths with many times during the course of last year's film festival. we first intersected at the beginning of the festival, twins in tears at the end of the same film, a mere row or two between us though unaware several weeks later i'd walk up to her at closing night, and within minutes ask her to help me on my short film. following my nose we are both at the beginning of some big journey and will share the same road for a while. we meet up each week and review the work we've done, mulch ideas in possibilities for the future, and wait for the day soon when we will work on the same project together.

i've got this. i think i've finally got this.