There’s no sense in fighting it. I will be an outcast for the rest of my life. There’s no reason to even begin to try to fit in. I was born an outcast and I will die an outcast. No matter what I’m either too old, too tall, too skinny, too fat, too much of a smartass, too quiet, and even too dedicated to one’s job.
There’s nothing wrong with being an outcast. What makes me an outcast has always been my creativity. It may sound ridiculous, but it’s true. I was raised by hunters and fisherman. And m creativity was misunderstood from day one. And I knew at a very early age that I wasn’t a hunter. I’m much like my son in that I can feel the very being of an animal. I don’t mind eating a hamburger, but you aren’t going to catch me out there doing the deed myself. I’m not cut from that kind of cloth. As for fishing, I was much more polarized by the ripples in the water caused by throwing stones in… which usually brought shouts form my uncles, grandfather, and dad. “You’ll scare the fish!” You don’t think being yanked out of your home by barbed steel is scary enough for them? Again, I’ll eat fish, but, yeah, that’s not my game.
So, from day one, my father and I never saw eye to eye. It’s how he was raised. it was a different time. He fed our family with the deer he killed and the chickens he raised. But the pheasants we raised from time to time, those were there to repopulate wildlife. Which, looking back now, is quite impressive. He took, but he also gave back. Circle of life. And I can only remember one instance of eating pheasant. So, yes. I’m not a pheasant plucker, I’m a pheasant plucker’s son. that’s a play on words for those reading too close to the screen. Think about it. You’ll get it.
It’s just that we were raised differently. My father and I finally began to see eye to eye as I had kids and became a dad myself. There was an unspoken bond that both of us have never spoken about and never will of just knowing the daily stresses of being a dad. He’s never said it out loud and he doesn’t need to. It’s understood. Just sitting silently in a chair next to each other, no words need to be spoken. We understand the daily pressure and sitting in silence makes it all right.
As I ramble off into tangents, I’ll pull back and go to my original train of thought. I’m an outcast. Today, this is shoved in my face as I fear for my job. I made a mistake. It wasn’t anything crucial. I may have not even made the mstake. It was two months ago. But it does involve sensitve material. thanks HIPAA. So here I stand. An outcast. And what makes me an outcast, here, in my day job? The fact that I actually use my brain for logic and common sense for the common good. In college, I was a mathematics major. I wasn’t a fan of math, but the logic to it all made sense. Just by following simple rules set forth, I passed with flying colors and got good grades. I also followed that path, because my parents pressured me against film school. Do something where you will have a future. Go into teaching. Study math. You’re good at it.
Yeah. I was good at it. But no one would hire me. I was too young. Too naive. Not schooled enough. I was even an outcast from teaching. And ten years later, here I am. Setting forth to make the risk of a lifetime. To make another movie. To make the biggest movie of my career. To actually become a respected filmmaker. I am right on the cusp. I can’t taste it yet. But I will as I draw nearer to Tokyo. I am an outcast. Even in the independent film community. I regard my work with more respect than most out there doing their digital shorts as has become so popular in the last ten years. I said it before. I am an elitist. And I will prove my point when I touchdown in Tokyo and do what’s never been done before.
I am unique. I am an outcast.