I was inspired both out of love and envy. The love side derived almost entirely out of Lena Dunham’s “Tiny Furniture,” for its brilliance, of course, but more for its courage and will. She wanted to make a movie and she made one. And it was great. And contained. Great and contained. Why couldn’t I do that?

Then there was the envy side — people I knew, making movies, both shitty and great, but making them. What did they have that I didn’t? What made people have such faith in others I saw as complete goofballs? Somewhere I learned that no one actually had faith in them — not any more than they had it in me. These people had faith in themselves.

Cue the lightbulb. Faith in myself. As cliched and trite a thought as can be. But faith only scratches the surface, unfortunately. Will is equally if not more important. No one will help you. You can only do this yourself. I’d never thought this way before, but that was the thought I needed to have in order to make this happen.

So — okay, faith in myself, blind will, I latched onto those. Mix in a little envy. Plenty of that in spades. Now the icing — turning forty. You turn fucking forty and look in the mirror and it is different. It just is. And you can’t help but reflect. And in my case I saw something I was very proud of in many ways, but not professionally. Professionally, I’d reached for the stars in my mind, I took risks for sure, but I had yet to really do something. And that feeling felt like shit.

Never had the present felt so present.

To be continued…

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