During my time here, I've been adjusting to suburban life. Today I traveled to and from work a total of three different times. I had to pick up an Acura MDX from a dealer near my aunt's house, and then after we filmed with it I had to take it back. As I navigated through the soul-crushing Baltimore traffic, something dawned on me. Sitting in my leather lined sanctuary on a packed road that was merging into one lane due to construction, I felt really sad. For some people, this was the "good life."
It seemed to me that the "good life" is about making enough money to buy a fancy house in a nice development and then paying somebody to mow the lawn because you're never home. It's being able to afford a gargantuan luxury SUV so you can sit in traffic with heated and cooled seats while you listen to over-compressed music streaming through your satellite radio as you struggle to get to the store to buy organic carrots. Perhaps the gridlock was finally getting to me, but I began to feel trapped amidst the acres of stores, cars, and asphalt. Was this how so many people really wanted to spend their lives?
When surrounded by this many people, you inevitably begin to feel like a “cog in the works.” Sometimes that's not a bad thing. Being a little cog means you have security. You're surrounded by systems that keep you fed, watered, and warm at night. You go to work, pay your taxes, love your family, and mind your own business. There are plenty of people who live out perfectly happy lives in suburbia, but some of us need more.
One time I told my brother that creativity is a curse. Creativity leads you to disagree with others and yearn for a chance to prove yourself. It fills your head with ideas when you're trying to focus. When I don't have a chance to create for a while, the repression turns to depression. I am often saddest when I am too busy or too tired to create something new, whether it be a movie, a picture, or just a story to share with friends. The enormous danger of becoming a “cog in the works” is that you won't have the chance to be creative. Perhaps it's beyond my control, but I just feel this insatiable urge to create something big in my lifetime.
In 1981, John Davis pitched the idea for a television show that had never been done before. MotorWeek was to be to television what Car and Driver was to print. Putting together a rag-tag team of PBS employees and other contacts, he launched the longest running car show in U.S. history. He created it from nothing and grew it into what it is today.
No doubt his project took a lot of time and effort. The pastor at my hometown church always ends his sermons by asking the Lord to give us "...strength to do something big for something good." These words have stayed with me. I want to use my skills to create something for the world. I think of all the people in television who have used the medium to enlighten, entertain, and enrich the lives of millions. Even though I'm only 21, I already feel a calling to produce something big for something good.
I know that some day I will have to take that risk, not because I want to, but because I have to. It won't really matter if I'm at a studio in California, a farm in Pennsylvania, or a PBS station in Maryland. Today's interconnected world means you can do something big whether you live in the city, country or suburb. What matters much more than where you live is what you do while you live there.
Such risks mean I will face an uncertain future. Money will inevitably be an issue. I very well may miss a few baseball games and birthday parties along the way. For all I know, I'll spend years of my life working on a project that will ultimately fall flat. But I have to try; I couldn't live with myself if I didn't. One thing is for certain: I don't want to spend the rest of my existence stuck in an overpriced Acura waiting for the light to turn green.
It seemed to me that the "good life" is about making enough money to buy a fancy house in a nice development and then paying somebody to mow the lawn because you're never home. It's being able to afford a gargantuan luxury SUV so you can sit in traffic with heated and cooled seats while you listen to over-compressed music streaming through your satellite radio as you struggle to get to the store to buy organic carrots. Perhaps the gridlock was finally getting to me, but I began to feel trapped amidst the acres of stores, cars, and asphalt. Was this how so many people really wanted to spend their lives?
When surrounded by this many people, you inevitably begin to feel like a “cog in the works.” Sometimes that's not a bad thing. Being a little cog means you have security. You're surrounded by systems that keep you fed, watered, and warm at night. You go to work, pay your taxes, love your family, and mind your own business. There are plenty of people who live out perfectly happy lives in suburbia, but some of us need more.
One time I told my brother that creativity is a curse. Creativity leads you to disagree with others and yearn for a chance to prove yourself. It fills your head with ideas when you're trying to focus. When I don't have a chance to create for a while, the repression turns to depression. I am often saddest when I am too busy or too tired to create something new, whether it be a movie, a picture, or just a story to share with friends. The enormous danger of becoming a “cog in the works” is that you won't have the chance to be creative. Perhaps it's beyond my control, but I just feel this insatiable urge to create something big in my lifetime.
In 1981, John Davis pitched the idea for a television show that had never been done before. MotorWeek was to be to television what Car and Driver was to print. Putting together a rag-tag team of PBS employees and other contacts, he launched the longest running car show in U.S. history. He created it from nothing and grew it into what it is today.
No doubt his project took a lot of time and effort. The pastor at my hometown church always ends his sermons by asking the Lord to give us "...strength to do something big for something good." These words have stayed with me. I want to use my skills to create something for the world. I think of all the people in television who have used the medium to enlighten, entertain, and enrich the lives of millions. Even though I'm only 21, I already feel a calling to produce something big for something good.
I know that some day I will have to take that risk, not because I want to, but because I have to. It won't really matter if I'm at a studio in California, a farm in Pennsylvania, or a PBS station in Maryland. Today's interconnected world means you can do something big whether you live in the city, country or suburb. What matters much more than where you live is what you do while you live there.
Such risks mean I will face an uncertain future. Money will inevitably be an issue. I very well may miss a few baseball games and birthday parties along the way. For all I know, I'll spend years of my life working on a project that will ultimately fall flat. But I have to try; I couldn't live with myself if I didn't. One thing is for certain: I don't want to spend the rest of my existence stuck in an overpriced Acura waiting for the light to turn green.
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