Man in the post-industrial age of anxiety is plagued with the virus of detachment and alienation, thereby creating a self-reinforcing system of societal apathy.  I was unaware of this active strand of viral infection until the day I watched Lost in Translation in a movie theater in Boston Common.  That night I walked away from the theater feeling connected and lost.  Connected, because I finally found a visual voice that resonated through the screen, that spoke of my language – a desire that wanted to speak, but was constantly baffled by the empty echoes of disconnection when I tried.  Lost, because I do not know how to break through, to retrieve the emotions that are dearly mine.  But this full-blown feeling of alienation has now become the drive for me to find a cure.  That’s why I went into film school.  There’s ought to be something more worthwhile in this life than money.  If I can’t feel anymore, what good can money bring, what good can anything bring, for that matter.  An emotional vegetable is an walking zombie.  If I can learn to speak with my inner thoughts, then perhaps one day I will wake up from this sleep walking and walk more courageously, in dignity.

I just realized that I still very much like to write, and really, I should write. So this blog site is going to be personal. Read as you may, but it’s going to be personal from this point on.