This is the third, and likely final, post I'm importing from my Facebook account. I wrote it earlier today, more then six months after "Revelation in an Orthopaedic Wing". The healing that I thought would take four or five months shows signs of continuing for at least another three months, and it's already been 6. Here are my thoughts, now. Revalation Number 2 November 26, 2013 at 11:23am As I look at the events of the past two weeks, in the context of the last 2 years, I find myself imagining a conversation which could have passed between me and God, this past April. I had been unemployed, or partially employed, for just over a year, and was about to start a new job. However, in two weeks, I would be run down by my own truck, to spend the summer in and out of the hospital, still struggling to heal as Thanksgiving approached. Me: Hey, God! I got a full-time job! Thanks! God: Hey, good news! What's the job! Me: pretty much the same thing as at C*******; installing internet-capable, programmable thermostats for the power company's energy saving program, only now it'll be in Baltimore! God: Oh, okay. Do you like the work? How's it pay? Me: Not really, and the pay is about the same, but I'm good at it, probably better than most of their techs. God: SO you'll be doing the same dead-end job, and barely scraping by? Me: Uh, yeah. but it's WORK. I won't be unemplyed, any more! Besides, my Unemployment benefits run out at the end of May. God: Well, I suppose that's good, to a degree, but wouldn't you rather be doing something else, like maybe film work? You know, if you could make that work, like Ed or Jim, or some of your other friends, it could really be good for you, and you'd be on set! Me: yeah, but I haven't been able to make that happen, here in Maryland. God; Hmm. Yeah, that's rough. How many film resumes did you send out, this past year? Didn't you get ANY response from projects? Me: Um, well, I never actually applied to any film projects, but I did work Freelance at B**** ****** for five months! God: Hmm. Well, Theatre work is sure better than thermostats, but hadn't you already worked for them? Me: Yeah, in 2009. God: So then you didn't actively pursue any film projects this past year? Me: Well, no, not really, but Film work is too sporadic. I need something steady. God: I suppose I can see that position. Well, good luck in your new job. Me: By the way, God; my truck won't start. is there anything you can do, to help? God: It's an old truck, and you need to replace your starter. Me: I don't have the money, yet. I just started my new job. God: Well, you could always wire in a switch that'll let you start the truck from under the hood, while you're standing in front of it... six months later: Me: God, my femur isn't healing, and I won't be able to go back to installing thermostats for months, now! I NEED work! I've even registered with Temp agencies, and THEY don't even have work I can do, with this leg! God: Wha? Oh, sorry; I was just reading this interesting notice about a series casting for 18th-century types... SO what was this you were saying, you can't find work?

This is the second Facebook note I'm bringing over here. On the 29th of April, 2013, I started a new job. It was a dead-end job, for barely-scraping-by money, but it was steady work. I was relieved, having just come off a year of either no work, or temporary freelance work. On the 11th of May, 2013, on the way home from my last day of training, I stopped at a gas station to use the restroom. When I came out, my Jeep Cherokee wouldn't start: the starter was bad. However, only the night before, my best friend and I had figured out a way I could get it to start, under the hood. This time, however, I forgot that I had parked the truck in first gear. As son as the truck started, it ran me down, and broke my left femur. The following was post described my thoughts a week later. Revalation in the Orthopaedic wing May 20, 2013 at 9:49pm Monday Morning, and somewhere, it's rush hour. Somewhere in all this, (the 13th, I believe) was the seventh anniversary of my last argument with my wife, and the 16th, then, was the day I told her I was done, that while we might keep a single household for the boys, we were going to get a divorce. I had been mulling over our argument at work, and it was only when I realized the example I was setting for the boys, that it occurred to me that it was time to declare enough. Then, in September, Mom got her diagnosis: a baseball-sized tumor on her right lung. We lost Mom the day after Christmas, just hours before Mom's first Granddaughter, Missy, was born. Dealing with divorce, death, financial crises,trying to figure out life as a grown-up, on my own, led to years of tribulation, a plummeting credit rating, gaining weight at a rate of 10 pounds a year, etc. I was beginning to really wonder if I had broken a mirror somewhere. I was hoping and praying that, somehow, my seven years of bad luck was coming to an end, with the seventh anniversary of that last argument, and then I managed to run myself over with my own truck. So clearly, the seven-year theory was flawed: things were (and are) cascading together, and are going to get worse, until I make them better. Life has forced me to stop and deal with things: i have a new job, but I CANNOT work: at least, not for the next couple of months. I don't have a car. I don't have income. I have legal cases that I'm about to put into a bit of a limbo, until I can physically walk into court. i am forced to minimize my life, and to deal with all the little issues I've ignored, which have only made them worse. I must now stand (figuratively) and fight my demons. I have no choice. The other day, I was thinking: if I had only made SURE the truck was out of gear, I'd have driven home, gone for a short hike, spent the next day dealing with laundry and legal paperwork, gone to work Monday, and spent the past week working and hoping to somehow get caught up on a few things. I felt a sudden sense of loss: That's all? Life would have (barely) gone on? I'd be going to work, coming home, having legal battles with the ex, missed my boys, and lived by myself with too many belongings, with no plan, no pattern, no real change, no progress, and, well, lemme just say it: no sex. I would not be, in my own life, the man I want to be. I'd be living that life of "quiet desperation" that I had always lived, only now I'd be solely responsible for my non-life. I have the chance to rebuild myself, make myself better than I was before: better, stronger, faster. It's not going to be easy: it'll mean facing my fears; it'll mean changing lifelong patterns; worst, and scariest of all, is that it will mean that I will have to depend on someone I've never been able to count on, someone who hasn't had my back, who has always managed to weasel out of fighting for me. I'll have to depend on ME. It's going to be scary, standing my ground and fighting to carve a meaningful life for myself, but a shattered leg is a small price to pay for the chance to stand and make real change.

The following post was written two years ago, as a Facebook note, but I thought I'd bring it here. I figure if I'm going to blog, I shouldn't keep restricting myself to certain subjects, adn whether or not there is anyone to listen, I do have a lot to say. With that in mind, here is the first of a number of Facebook posts I'd like to share with a broader world. Creative life August 24, 2011 at 1:03am I was recently in an email discussion with a friend who, like me, is a very creative person. H'es feeling frustrated, because people are telling him he needs to specialize, and he doesn't want to give up all the things he enjoys, to focus on only one. I can sympathize with this sentiment, but Faulkner was right, in a sense, when he said "In writing, you have to kill your darlings." As to specializing, they're probably right. Even in creative fields, people tend to pigeonhole each other. When I went out ito Hollywood in 1995, having never worked professionally in a creative field, I managed to get a job in a Creature Effects shop as a "Runner". That is to say, an errand boy. The big hurdle in Creature Effects, for me, was getting to the point where I wasn't hired as a Runner. Go into a shop in a particular position, and that's probably the only position you'll get in that shop. Some will let you "exceed your brief", but others will not. I was a runner in three shops before I started getting consistent work as anything else. There is a quirk, however; if you're careful/lucky, you might manage to get one title at one shop, and another at another. Before I worked at the prophouse which was my last job in Hollywood, I was going project-to-project as a moldmaker in some shops, a carpenter in others, and a modelmaker in yet another. Of course, having a speciality allows you to become the "( blank ) guy", who is high on somebody's list for gigs that need a "( blank ) guy". This is what makes you marketable; the fact that you know how to do a certain job, and do it right. In my case, I once heard about foam sculptors. I thought it sounded like something I could do, but I had no idea how to become one. Fortunately, fate placed a number of opportunities in my path to sculpt foam, and I was surprised how quickly I found myself teaching others, whenever a foam-sculpting opportunity came up. In the past 12 years or so, every time I've found myself on a foam-sculpting job, no matter where it was, I ended up becoming the lead foam sculptor. Even so, I've still done moldmaking, modelmaking, carpentry, etc. How did I become a Lead Foam Sculptor? By making the #$% up as I go along. In creative fields, there's often no map, except the one you draw, no precedent you can follow. Much of it involves stepping off the beaten path, and going wherever your faith in your creativity takes you. So specializing doesn't necessarily mean you completely abandon all other avenues, it just means that you learn what your strengths are, and you develop them. How do you determine what your strengths are? In a creative field, they're probably things you already like doing. The main thing I've learned, (and am still trying to learn) is to not be ruled by fear. A huge part of making the transition from Runner to Moldmaker, was overcoming a lack of confidence in my knowledge. Would I remember the correct ratio of base to catalyst? Would I remember all the components needed? When I applied to work as a Moldmaker at my fourth shop, I wasn't sure I could pull it off. I was afraid I would be getting in over my head, but, even so, I asked for $12 an hour, when the most I had EVER made was $10. I got the gig, and two weeks later, my Supervisor told me that he thought I was worth more, so he bumped me up to $15. The next paycheck, I was at $18, because the raise had accidentally been processed twice. I told him about it, and he said "We'll just keep it where it is, now." So, in three weeks, I had gone from $12 to $18, because the shop felt that it was consistent with my skill level. I soon learned to listen to my gut when offered a job. If my gut said "This job is gonna suck", I knew not to take it. If it said "Can I handle this job?" I knew to take the gig, and that yes, I COULD handle the job, and handle it well. That little voice hasn't failed me since, although I have failed it, by taking jobs I knew were gonna suck. If I ever am offered a job, and my little voice says "This job is gonna be a piece of cake", then I know I'm aiming too low. So it all comes down to that leap of faith; faith in your own considerable abilities. I, like the people I hang out with, tend to be a Fantasy/Sci-Fi geek. It only follows naturally that the road we follow on the map should be the one that leads not to the finished, marked areas, but to the area that reads "Here, there be Dragons".