So I changed my mind on the way I’m going to approach this blog. I’m going to post thoughts on the theory and philosophy of writing (screenwriting, specifically), but I’m going to make this a lot more causal. Like right now, when I’m going to tell you about… shit, I don’t even know.
I’m sitting in my living room next to my hot-as-hell wife (some of us actually get to have sex with someone other than ourselves! It’s true!!), listening to Steven Colbert talk about ethanol. My wife really is hot as hell. Check it out:
While uploading those pics, my friend walked in with a sack from Krystal. Mm-mm! Nothing better than heavily processed “meat” cut into bite sized pieces and placed in equally bite sized buns. I’m also eating long-expired easter candy I got for free. It hasn’t made me sick yet, so here’s hoping my luck holds out…
Now we’re going to watch a movie. Perhaps The Fly, or There Will be Blood.
I guess I should write about “something”, and put an end to this “nothing” rambling, so I’ll let you know a little of what’s going on in my world. I currently live in Orlando, Florida. I grew up here. I was born here. But I’m not going to die here (God willing). In four weeks my wife and I are hopping in our car and driving west, and we are never looking back. Sure, we’ll come back for a holiday or two, but the chances of us moving back here are slim to none. June 1st we’ll be in S. Pasadena, and I can’t effing wait. Like I said, I grew up here.
When I was a kid, Orlando was a nice place that some called “the happiest place on Earth”, and if you had asked me back then I would have agreed. We had Disney World! Not Disney Land. Disney W-O-R-L-D! And I had the golden fucking ticket. My dad was hired by Disney as an Electronics Technician to open Epcot. That meant that I could get in any time I wanted. As much as I wanted. I practically grew up with Mickey Mouse as a roommate. Everything else about it was awesome, too. The majority of the people who lived in the suburb I grew up in were families with young kids and retired old people. It was as friendly as the suburbs ever were. Little league, Karate classes, tree houses, street football… It was great.
Then, slowly but surely, the climate of Orlando started to change. People from New York and other, more “dangerous” areas started moving to Orlando in hopes of a brighter future. Who could blame them? Disney was offering well paying jobs with the promise of long-lasting careers. Real estate was low (my parents bought the 3/2, 3.6k sq. foot house I spent the last half of my youth in for $52k), and Orlando had almost no crime. Of course, that changed as more people moved here.
The kids I went to middle school with told me stories of how they would help their older brothers deal on the corner when they lived in NY the last summer. Girls at my middle school were getting pregnant, and everyone got in their fair share of fights. By the time I got to high school, I was more than familiar with all the information necessary to keep my head above water. The “happiest place on Earth” was now truly run by my old roommate, the Mouse. He charmed and wooed whoever would fall for his siren song, and his new children taught me all about drugs, sex, gang signs and colors. I owned a set of brass knuckles, and had put my martial arts training to use more than once. And I was one of the good kids.
After high school, I worked, hustled, went to college, and watched Orlando spiral further and further down the toilet bowl. The Mouse was all about the cash, and I could see it on my dad’s face whenever I would go visit him. It was all over the streets, too. From the pills and baggies with his face all over them to the prostitutes with his label tattooed on their asses, there was no denying it. The Mouse was running this bitch, and he would do anything to get that dollar.
Now, it’s the 4th most dangerous city in America (according to the newest 2008 statistics), and the county I live in - the county our “beautiful” downtown is smack in the middle of - is the second most dangerous county in America. It went from being a place where my heart went pitter-patter at the thought of waking up in the “happiest place on Earth”, to being a place where I hear someone’s feet go pitter-patter behind me and I hold my wife a little tighter, hoping we don’t become another statistic.
So as my wife and I pack our home and get ready to leave the “happiest place on Earth”, I can’t say I will miss it - or the crack dealing, heroin shooting Mouse that runs it. My old roommate turned my childhood home into a crack house and made hookers of the girls that used to live on our street. The City of Angels has never looked as good to me as it does now. I’m already there in my mind…
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