Another hour deeper in the night, another mile farther down the road, a man can drive as hard as he can drive and never get as far as his heart was meant to go.
Abandon Films‘ CFO TV ad took home the Best in Broadcast over the weekend. Special thanks to Access Advertising for liking the pitch and giving us the chance to create the ad!
We had a lot of fun coming up with this spot. I wrote and storyboarded the project, and was slated to direct, but due to scheduling conflicts couldn’t be at the shoot. So my awesome partners in crime Justin Rossbacher and Won Novalis took the reigns and, along with Marc Hutchins, made the spot happen. Couldn’t have been more pleased with the outcome and am thrilled that the Ad community in the Roanoke Valley is recognizing it. Thanks again to all those involved!
Here’s the behind-the-scenes look at the production of the ad…
I’m playing my guitar on Saturday. In public, which I always enjoy. First gig of 2010.
I was recently doing some research on Christian songwriting legend Steve Taylor (he makes movies now), and I came across this poignant statement from a 2008 interview:
I found it difficult as both a Christian and an artist to continually do stuff that’s centered on your persona. It becomes hard to reconcile it with your ego… …As you go on, it becomes hard to balance all that self-promotion with being a follower of Jesus. I appreciate those who are able to do it well, but it’s just something that can wear you down.
This is especially true for artists, but I think it applies to all God-fearing people in general. Right? Don’t all Christians struggle with reconciling their ego with their faith?
Taylor went on to quote a teacher, “…if you were a totally well-rounded mature individual, you wouldn’t need to get up on stage in the first place.”
I agree with Dreamhost on this one. The phrase made popular by the fail blog has run its course.
During their Twitter game to give away free iPads, they made a hilarious rule that you would be disqualified if you used the word fail incorrectly (as in not posting on my blog for a month is an epic fail). I started thinking about this and I suddenly started to disdain the phrase. I’m not judging anyone. I’m just not going to use the word fail incorrectly. It’s a thing I have now, thanks to Dreamhost.
On the issue of epic failure (as was mentioned), I have not posted on my blog for over a month. And though I’m not sure how epic this failure actually is (epic usually means that lives are at stake), it still makes me look really stupid.
At the beginning of the year I created this theme, made goals for my website, and announced that I would post every week. I posted one other time since then. That was six weeks ago. To make matters worse, I hastily created a theme (“other life projects”), and am now looking at the title of that theme and cringing. I hate it. Again, really stupid.
I’m not going to say sorry, however, lest mine becomes a blog in which the primary theme is apologizing for not blogging. I’m not going to apologize for not blogging. That should be a rule for all bloggers. If there’s no post for two months, so be it. Don’t apologize to me for not blogging. That has got to be the lamest content EVER.
I’m going to write as if millions are reading. That will be my modus operandi from now on. I woke up the other morning with a sudden insatiable motivation to write. I’m going to start. Now.
I’m going to be pretentious. I’m setting goals for my blog.
Life is a project. To me it is like waking up in a room with amnesia. There are some pictures and some books, and you have to figure out who you are and what you are suppose to do. And this existential project [of life] is comprised of all these sub-projects. These are things in the areas of careers, hobbies, life goals, etc. I’ve decided I’m going to be a better steward of these projects (and thus, hopefully, a better steward of my life).
This blog is one of those projects. I have a new blog design, which is suweeeet [special thanks to Jason Schuller for this awesome free Wordpress theme that integrates Twitter and Flickr fantastically]. I have three goals for JustinSnyder.net in 2010:
To fully integrate my blog with social media and foster connectivity and interaction with those in my industry and network
To leave a trail of content detailing a history of the projects I’m a part of by publishing at least one blog post a week
To publish articles and links promoting others that I work with or those of whom I admire their work
I recently sent an email to my business partner. It was a reminder to use this new application to keep track of new business contacts. That way he wouldn’t have to ask me about them in person. He responded with the following:
THX1138: “Gone is the time you have to ask me for client updates.”
Citizen 0003: I’ll be sure to submit any question or communication, Stories or Discussion to you through Highrise or Facebook. What exactly are we allowed to talk about in person? And what things are forbidden? Must any interpersonal discussion only be allowed through comments? Do we need to have an online meeting to discuss this? Has the new “Read My Emotions Usually Communicated Through Body Language Instead Through Online Communication Thereby Eliminating Human Contact” (R.M.E.U.C.T.B.L.I.T.O.C.T.E.H.C.) feature been made available yet for a better transfer of emotional body language through Highrise?
The place has a standard of excellence that I have never seen in a movie theatre. They approach films with almost a religious reverence.
Before the movie starts, they play film scores on the speakers instead of pop music. They test the audio before each screening, with employees walking the aisles to make sure it is optimal. They only show one trailer (while they test the audio). There are no terrible cartoons with dancing candy. And, if you’re late for the movie, you have to wait for the next showing. They are warriors for the movie-watching experience.
Picture if you will, every person in your neighborhood running down the street, screaming at the top of their lungs, knocking down mailboxes and breaking windows. Instead of calling the cops, you decide to join them. You have so much junk bottled up inside and you have to deal with it. You bust down your front door, tear into the yard, and let the wild rumpus start.
Maybe it will need to come to this. Ancient people use to mourn by tearing their clothes and groveling in the dirt. They would do this for days. King David once refused to eat or bathe for a week, and spent all his time lying on the ground. Today, we surf the internet and eat ice cream.
It’s time for a rumpus revolution. As the great theologian (Bono) sings, “I want to run, I want to hide, I want to tear down the walls that hold me inside…” We keep way too much to ourselves. We don’t know how to express, how to feel, how to love. Not like we should. Not like we need to.
That’s why Spike Jonze’ adaptation of Where the Wild Things Are is so important. It tells us something about what it means to be human.
Watching this film was therapeutic for me. An hour and a half of primal expression. Running, screaming, growling, climbing, destroying, building forts and throwing snowballs. Pure energy and imagination.
I was reminded of a time when I didn’t care. I was trick-or-treating and dressed like a bear. I would scratch with my paws at the neighbors door, hold out a bucket for the candy, and growl. And there wasn’t an inch of self-consciousness in me. I did it because I had to. There was something inside of me that I innately needed to express.
I forget how to express it now. I haven’t growled at anyone in a while actually.
Where the Wild Things Are is a simple story. Max, a lonely little boy from a broken home, runs away one night after a fight with his mom. Angry and confused, he spends an evening in the woods, conjuring up an imaginary world in which he takes a voyage to a distant land. He discovers a small tribe of creatures and proclaims himself king over them. Together they build a kingdom, implementing regimented diplomatic activity, such as running through the woods, howling at the moon, knocking over trees, building forts and then tearing them down. And fighting. Lot’s of fighting. Like Max’s own life, this family of creatures is extremely dysfunctional. They have no direction. They are angry and confused and don’t know why.
Each creature represents a part of his life. It’s his internal dialogue, dealing with the anger. While he wrestles with what he doesn’t understand, he is able to eventually channel his pain into a question (which is harder to come up with than an answer, really): How can I make everyone okay?
He puts a lot of pressure on himself. Like we all do at times. His sister is too cool for him. His dad is gone. And his mom has a boyfriend. He’s angry, and wants to fix things and make them right.
I can relate. I remember when I was eight years old being angry about my parents divorced. I remember thinking that I could fix it. Maybe I could confront them and set them straight, make them change their minds about the whole thing. But I couldn’t. I was only a little boy.
And so Max concludes the same thing. In the end, he realizes that he is not a king. He is only Max. He spent all this time running like a maniac through the woods, only to conclude what he already knew. And that is the most important thing. Sometimes we need to run wild and howl at the moon. I think this is a way of asking a question that we don’t know how to ask. We need to do it, not so much because we need an answer, but because we just need a good howl at the moon.
But for some reason we’ve forgotten how.
I wish I was more like King David, who once pretended to be insane in order to get out of pickle. I think I’m too self-conscious to pretend to be insane. I feel that there is a fundamental passion that is missing. We spend far too much time staring at computer screens with glazed expressions.
As for Max, we’ve probably seen him at Wal-mart yelling at his mom. Or heard him next door, declaring war on his back yard. We might have almost hit him with our car while he was riding his bike and not paying attention. His hyper-activity makes us uncomfortable. We find his behavior disturbing. We judge his parents. I think we need to stop and join him instead, grovel in the dirt a little and howl at the moon. There are walls to be torn down.
Remember to be a friend. People hide their insecurities, just like you hide yours. Consider the feelings of others first, and don’t worry about yourself so much.
Don’t be afraid of awkward moments. Push through them. If you are not experiencing awkwardness, you are not growing.
Remember the consequences. Remember the pain you feel right now. There are reasons your teachers, your pastors, and your parents said the things they said.
Remember that ninety-nine percent of the things you worried about never happened.
Remember not to think too highly of yourself. Because you do. Forget about yourself and you’ll have more fun.
Remember to write things down or you will forget them.
Without it, all activity under the sun crumbles. Words become meaningless, work becomes pointless, and relationships become flat.
Without definition, there can be no communication. We could not comprehend what is spoken or written. Without definition, there is no order. If jobs, tasks, and positions are not defined, institutions fall apart. Without definition, there is ambiguity in relationships. There would be no clarity between professional and personal, romance and friendship, acquaintance and comrade.
Definition is the context for communication, order, and community. It is the antithesis of chaos.
It is scary to me that society champions relativism the way it does. We accept phrases like truth is relative, which is really the same thing as saying there is no definition. And if there is no definition, there is no context, only a vacuum.
