Late

Late. Missing. Straight up not turned in. These are the words that describe my academic career, from beginning to end. I was never a particularly good student. It wasn’t my fault, I had undiagnosed ADHD but was told that attention deficit problems didn’t exist. People understand better now, but even as recently as 10 years ago, teachers did not generally have a grasp on the ways in which their students were affected by the “Attention Parasite” as I’m going to refer to it going forward.

The Attention Parasite is not a literal parasite. It is not tangible— do not mistake me for some ridiculous conspiracy theorist clown like Alex Jones or Mr. Trump. The Attention Parasite is a sort of mental block that is put up by your brain preventing the body from being able to do anything. It’s the only way I can describe it. It was probably nothing more than the anxiety of doing something poorly and being over-judged, but there was something inside me that would do its best metaphorically to physically restrain me from completing tasks. The worst part was not the struggle to complete tasks, most importantly school work growing up, but the feeling that if it was late, it might as well not be turned in.

I blame that sentiment on stricter teachers who graded ‘Late’ and ‘Missing’ assignments as Zero’s, which felt like a clear indication that if they didn’t respect me, I didn’t need to respect them. Time is a complicated and mysterious concept, and to put strict due dates on learning for children is inherently cruel and a clear misuse of the spectacular wonder that is the human brain.

The biggest problem I had was the ambition I felt. Outside walking, in class learning about a concept, driving to and from school, they all were special times where my feelings toward accomplishing tasks became powerful, and seemingly unstoppable. I felt a deep desire to write, to create, to read, watch movies, and play games. I wanted to have time for everything, but the older I got, the faster time seemed to go, and I felt all the less capable of accomplishing something. I know I am not the only one who has struggled with this. Many I have spoken to over the years, either diagnosed before me, or those who remain undiagnosed have expressed sentiments similar to the ones I have tried to convey for all these years. While I might have the passion to do something, actually doing the thing can be a daunting endeavor.

That’s how I felt going into the creative world. In all the fields I have aspired for throughout my life, none of them have been remotely easy fields to get into. From writing Novels, to playing Jazz, to being a TV Showrunner, none of these professions are ones that you simply become; some do, but what was that phrase about exceptions and rules? I’ve always felt overwhelmed by ‘the ladder.’ I don’t understand ‘the ladder.’ I guess that’s not true. ‘The ladder’ is nothing more than capitalist bullshit. It’s popularity clubs, investment schemes, and insurance fraud. The ladder only exists because accountants and money obsessed lawyers of the entire entertainment industry— not necessarily just Hollywood— would rather spend $200,000,000 to make a movie with a big name director, and actors of celebrity status, than give $1,000,000 to 200 different up-and-coming filmmakers, or $100,000 to 2,000 lesser known filmmakers. Some of the greatest films were made on a shoestring budget. Wet Hot American Summer had a budget of about $1.8 million. Clerks was made with $27,000 spread out across something like 12 maxed out credit cards. Robert Rodriguez made El Mariachi with about $7,000 that he earned by being a human guinea pig for medical research at a university in Texas. These three are the examples that spring to mind readily for a variety of reasons, but with a little extra research, one could dig up thousands of examples of filmmakers that with their limited budgets managed to produce either great works of art or inspiring attempts at visual spectacle that deserve applause, even the failed ones.

Art and entertainment should not be dictated by the profit they turn. Artists should not be expected to compromise their work for the sake of profit. I am not necessarily advocating artists not be filtered or edited. Even great artists sometimes have bad ideas and should be told so. Anyway, getting back on the track that was never there, I have struggled to complete things my entire life, even things I am very passionate about. But for the first time, I have managed to follow through and not only complete the task I set out for myself, but also have the next part ready to go early.

Hidden Anecdotes & Other Tales is either the reason you’re reading this, or you have somehow stumbled onto this without ever hearing of it, which would actually be a remarkable feat. HAOT as we call it internally— it is the an audio series I created as a way to give writers, and artists of all kinds to express themselves in a familiar environment. It’s an anthology taking place in an infinite universe to an Immortal who has been there since the beginning. I created it during the height of the COVID-19 pandemic when the entertainment industry was struggling to grapple with the new “Remote World.” It premiered yesterday, September 3rd on Spotify, Amazon Music, Audible, and Apple Podcasts. But do not be fooled. It is not a podcast. It is an Audio Extravaganza. Do you wish your audiobooks were more lively? They can be a bit bland. Do you want an anthology series but also want to have a character to commit to and be invested in? Do you want to have guaranteed original short stories read aloud every other week— bite sized stories that can be enjoyed on a short commute, or a quick grocery run?

That’s what you’ll get with Hidden Anecdotes & Other Tales. It is an original series that pays homage to the great works that came before. Anyway, that’s my long way of saying I forgot to post a blog yesterday, Oops!