Got up early today after a dream about losing my wonderful dog Sophia in the eviction. So to forget my cares I did what I always do and went to the movies.
I guess the eviction blues caught up to me today. Or maybe it was the typical feeling I get after watching a great movie and realizing how far away I am from the goal I set for myself 7 years ago of producing a theatrical release.
As the 2012 credits rolled that little dickhead voice in my head chuckled, "You're a loser, Sheetz. Pitiful. You've only been able to produce about 500,000 Youtube views, 2 DVDs on Amazon and a pilot optioned to TV network that went bankrupt for all your stinking 7 years in Hollywood. You've sacrificed way too much of your life, missed seeing your kids, friends and family. Go the fuck home to Wisconsin and check into a nut house to cure you of your Hollywood addiction."
As usual I told the voice, "Shut the fuck up, I ain't quitting."
Before I came out here one of my real estate pals warned me, "Ken, Hollywood is not an investment, it's a sickness." Yep. I got it bad.
My pal Gilley went to a lecture by Mark Fergus this week, who with his partner wrote the awesome screenplay for IRON MAN. Mark described writers as people with big egos and low self esteem. Accurate. Guess I'm a writer after all.
Any who. I miss my dog and 2012's got my "This movie's so good it makes me want to fucking quit or jump off a cliff!" seal of approval, folks.