The Natural Course of Friendships

What happens when a friendship dies? Should a person resort to heroic measures to fan the fading embers that once burned brightly, or step aside and watch the tow trucks remove the wreckage?

When we were children, we thought our classmates and neighborhood buddies would be friends for life. What's now known as a BFF (best friend forever) in Internet and cell phone shorthand.

At some point in life we must learn and remember that every person we meet can't be considered, nor will become a true friend. I've never been one to meet John Doe or Sally Que on Monday and attach myself to either as their friend. I had (too) many relatives while growing up to need outside stimulation or company, but I had friends all the same.

What is a true friend? Does a true friend come to the rescue when a bully wants to pummel you for not doing his homework? I remember sprinting to Granny's house like Carl Lewis or Jesse Owens in the Olympics after school when I knew a bully had me in his sights when I was in the sixth grade.

I was accused two years later in junior high of using muscle to win the election for student body president. I didn't intimidate voters. I didn't know anything of the sort back then. I had a friend in Mary, a big-for-her-age student and relative to one of my mother's lifelong friends.

If her walking around the school with a large sheet of white construction paper (used by the art teacher to create banners that the sports teams and cheerleaders burst through before games) pointing at unsuspecting students with the request to sign their allegiance and vote for me was intimidation, then I stand guilty these many years later. I felt bad when another student complained and cried that Mary made students vote for me, rather than exercising their free will. Mary was a true friend back then.

In recent years I've been struggling with the definition of friendship. Beyond high and college cliques, adult friendship require more work than those we had as children, oftentimes with fewer perks (candies, sleepovers, camping trips, amusement parks). I've had friendships where I was a parent, a mentor, or big brother, which were always exhausting.

I get along (better) with creative types, but can navigate other worlds as well when needed. I used to think that the zodiac played a large role in finding, developing, and sustaining real friends, but the truth of the matter is that it is free will. We seek out people who make us happy, comfort us when we're sad, and gives us tough love even when we're in no mood for it.

My criteria for friends has changed since I relocated from the Southwest, but the dynamic of my closest friendships are the same. I'm an honorary Hispanic among my closest friends, most of which are natives from Spanish or Portuguese-speaking countries or islands. I'm a proud American, however I feel like a foreigner when I look at the faces of those nearest to me.

Do I believe in reincarnation? Was I here before as a Spaniard or Ecuadorian, but didn't get it right the first or second time, only to try yet again in this body surrounded by familiar sights, sounds, and smell? Should I try to further dissect who and what naturally gravitate toward me? It's best that I bury my burnt out or imbalanced friendships and move on with those who respect and love me.

Reading, Writing, and Learning Curves

It seems with each passing day, God teaches me yet another new lesson. I'm getting back in the habit of reading regularly, which has always been a pleasurable escape from the sometimes harsh realities of life in New York City.

I've made a concerted effort to read African writers, and realized that while their stories and struggles are different from my own as an African American, the characters and voices are universal.

A few of the African writers on my reading list are Chinua Achebe, Ben Okri, and Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie.

One of the advantages of reading international writers is that I don't have to travel to witness the hardships of child soldiers, apartheid, war, or famine. My goal in reading a wider array of authors is to broaden my reading palette and learn from people that have experience things that I've only seen on CNN or PBS. Of course, that's not the extent of all African writers. There are allegories,magical realism, and stories of deceased children in heaven trying to be reborn to their parents.

Most important of all is that I will undoubtedly improve as a writer.

For The Love of Filmmaking

I was told a story back in school meant to motivate or frighten would-be stars and starlets who were pursuing an elusive Hollywood dream of super stardom. If my memory serves me correctly, the quote came from the legendary actor Glenn Ford, who was on The Johnny Carson Show or The Merv Griffin Show.

The question was allegedly ,"What's your advice for young actors who want to break into the business?"

His answer: "Take a flashlight, a pad, and a pen. Lock yourself in a closet for two hours, and write anything and everything you could be if couldn't be actor. At the end of two hours, if there's anything on your pad, you'd best do it because you don't have the dedication it takes to be an actor."

I enjoyed my time as a film, stage, and commercial actor. I look forward to the time I'll return to the stage and film set as an actor, but my current and immediate focus is writing and directing feature length, shorts, and documentaries.

My approach to directing can't be gleaned from reading a book. Allow me to digress. I believe that writing, dancing, singing, and culinary arts can be taught, but there are people who seem to have a lifeline to God. I feel one must be intuitive, inspired, and focused. All the academic knowledge in the world won't substitute for a trained eye, ear, or touch.

Books can provide tips, tools, tested strategies. Implementing information from books, websites, or advice from friends should be measured according to the person or situation.

In the coming weeks, I'll be looking for others who share my belief and love of video, documentary, and filmmaking.

Independent Filmmaking 101

Filmmaking isn't the faint of heart. I grew up on the other side of the casting, directing, and production table as an actor. My eyes have been pulled wide open in the early stages of auditioning actors, interviewing creative and technical crews, a searching for affordable equipment.

There's no class to teach what my roommate and I have been going through, and I probably wouldn't trust a book written on the subject. Personalities are hard to distill into a book, and each person is different. Case studies are often controlled, edited versions of an experience.

Filmmaking will cause you to return to church if you've been absent from the padded pews. Filmmaking will cause you to pace the floors between auditions, miss meals, and remember to brush your teeth just as an eager actor arrives early for a scheduled audition.

While not ignorant of the movie industry, I had to get up to speed on film scheduling, budgeting, and fundraising. A good friend loaned me two books from her college production course: The Beginning Filmmaker's Guide to a Successful First Film, and Film Scheduling.

I know that reading the books will be half of the challenge to producing and directing commercials, film shorts, documentaries, and feature films. One of my business partners gifted me with a copy of Directing Actors. Let the fun begin!

Holiday Season & Job Search

This Christmas will be the first time in many years that Granny will not hold court from the corner of her living room sofa. She survived past Thanksgiving despite a sobering diagnosis from her doctor and hospice nurse. She waited until family returned from Sunday church service and took her last breath. I was miles away in New York when she passed away. My mother called immediately to relay the news. We went back and forth on the phone, my insisting that Granny hadn't died, she insisting that I'd have to return to help lay Granny to rest.

I was overwhelmed by the news that I'd no longer see Granny in that familiar spot, wearing her housecoat and fuzzy slippers she favored later in life when indoors.

My new job search has been ego-deflating since I returned from Houston for Granny Gums' wake and funeral. I've had no energy or desire to look for a job. I'm having difficulty watching anything on TV that deals with death. I recently watched Steel Magnolias and teared up during cemetery scene. I've never been emotional when watching funerals or death on TV and in movies. I am a big fan of Six Feet Under on HBO.

What is New Year's Eve and New Year's Day without Granny's reminding us to eat black-eyed peas for good luck?

I'm reminded of the play Death Comes To Us All, Mary Agnes, if only for the title that I'm not excluded from the death and mourning. I know the wounds will eventually heal, but it seems just like yesterday that I spoke to Granny on the phone.

Fallen From Grace - Indie Film Casting Call

CornerStone Pictures and Keneritz Media are casting for an independent feature film - Fallen From Grace

Fallen From Grace is the story of a married immigrant's spiritual separation from his Christian beliefs as he navigates the sometimes turbulent terrain of married life, immigration, and life in the metro New York City area as he pursues the sometimes elusive American Dream. Along the way, he meets and interacts with an assortment of characters that tests his emotional and physical resolve as he works a variety of jobs to remain afloat while pursuing his creative dreams and American citizenship.

This film deals with adult themes, ethnic identity, and contains brief nudity.

We are seeking a diverse, talented, flexible, and reliable cast for principle, supporting, and featured extra roles.

This is a low-budget/no-budget/non-union film. All actors will receive film credit, copy of the DVD, and a free personal photo session valued at $400.

Interested actors please forward a recent headshot,resume, and the role that you feel best suited for. Additionally, there are a few supporting and featured extras.

If you have previously submitted for our casting call, there is no need to resubmit. All headshots/resumes will be kept on file for up to one year.

For more information refer to the film's website: http://www.fallenfromgracethefilm.com/

Dispatch from Texas - Granny's Funeral

I traveled earlier to Houston to help one of my aunts tweak the wake and funeral programs for my granny's funeral this weekend. I had thought I'd also collect some of granny's belongings to take back to New York with me, but I couldn't walk into her bedroom. I haven't found the strength to step inside the room where she died.

The best intentions sometimes fall short when in the midst of things; when faced with what we planned from hundreds of miles away, we clam up or alter plans.

The last time I was in Houston was for another funeral, my aunt who succumbed to cancer. I know that death is a part of life. I'd say that while reading online newspapers of tragic events near and far, or the local news. It's not until death takes a loved one from your reach that the philosophizing and emotional distance is no longer enough to shield you from the grief. The television or computer monitor is a buffer from the pain others undoubtedly feel as they're distraught on camera or video.

My two flights to Houston were fraught with wind turbulence. The aircraft felt like a crop duster or toy plane as it bobbed and weaved at various altitudes in attempt to find calm air. I clawed the armrest, sure that the airplane would spiral to the ground. It wasn't as if I wished for death, but a thought occurred to me that I wouldn't have to walk into granny's house without her sitting on the sofa, phone pressed into her lap waiting for a call. I wouldn't have had to put on a suit and polish my shoes this Friday evening before the wake at the family church. I wouldn't have had to stand in front of the congregation and reminiscence about Granny Gums without collapsing to the floor, making a spectacle of myself.

I erased images of an angry mythological Greek god or goddess standing in front of the plane gently blowing against the craft for amusement. I remember praying to God to calm the wind and allow the plane safe passage into Houston. I was en route to eulogize my Granny, and nothing would prevent that from taking place. My cousin Carl picked me up from the airport. We didn't fall apart in the airport when we saw each other, and I don't know that I thought we would. There's usually drama in our family, so we occupied our travel time poring over various relatives' hiccups and disasters.

There's a marked absence in Granny's house, one that was once filled with nine daughters, two sons, and countless other neighborhood children. Each bedroom was a protective chamber for its slumbering inhabitants. The kitchen where the girls and women in the family sat alongside the stove to get their hair pressed with a straightening comb has changed and now doesn't feel as warm or vibrant. The living room, or meeting room as it seemed to me, where everyone filtered through like a revolving door, is now void of Granny's voice.

Carl and I have been scanning pictures since Monday night. We Were The Williamses. We Were The Party Family! There are so many pictures in various photo albums of us hosting birthday parties, at banquets, at house parties, or picnics. My family was large back then, and even larger now that we're into our fifth generation. One of the biggest tragedies of Granny's death is that she was the glue that held this family together. Now that she'll no longer be physically on earth, I think everyone will scatter to the four winds. Each one of us will leave the funeral and accompanying family dinner changed -- reflective, remorseful, or regretful.

Death comes to us all, but we're never prepared even if it's preceded by a prolonged illness. Death comes to us all, and we're left to think about things left unsaid or undone. Flipping through the various photo albums, I know that granny lived a full and rewarding life. Rarely was she without a brilliant smile, head tilted to one side, with her signature poise radiating from the picture.