There's a certain security that comes with writing. I much prefer libel over slander. It sounds more sophisticated.
When I was recently dragged off the page and handed a camera with the direction "Go!", I suddenly second guessed my entire existence over the past two and a half years. I had built up a lot of clout in the world of my twelve readers. Could my words possibly be as influential and inspiring on camera? Could my cheekbones exceed their textual expectations with sexual visualization? How embarrassed would my parents be?
For hundreds of posts, I had been writing to impress the only person in this world that mattered to me:
ME.
Now, I was spending hours to impress some rich kid I went to college with and a phantom producer in L.A. with only the feedback of "Go crazy. Gay it up." as encouragement to be a movie reviewer. I had never even turned on a camera before, let along set lighting, edit footage, and blindly find my angles. But I would do anything for fame.
Perhaps all for naught. But perhaps because this crafty little Jewish boy who lived with my incredibly Aryan friend was the push off the page that TJB needed.
My Christmas gift to you, 12 readers, are the hours I've spent filming and editing on a computer built only for e-mail. You can practically see my genius growing as you progress. Watch now, before I realize what I've done and dismantle the internet.
Sorry Dad,
TJB: Making It
