Charlie and the Pursuit of Actingness

“This guy is falling for you.”

“This guy is falling for you.”

This guy is falling for you.”

Charlie sat on the bus stop bench, repeating the line that had become something of a mantra to him over the past 3 days.

“THIS GUY is falling for you!” he shouted, gesturing his hands out in front of him as if he were catching a child falling from a window. The elderly lady behind the wheel of the minivan stopped at the light in front of him looked over at him, surprised.

“Oh, uh, I’m sorry. It’s a line!”, he yelled over at her, as the traffic light turned green.

“It’s a shitty line, kid!” the lady shouted back, as she drove on.

Charlie sat there, watching her car drive off into the ocean of cars down the road.

“This guy… is falling for you”, he whispered.

After a moment, he thrust one arm out in a wide arc, following the flow of traffic. With his right arm still sticking out, he looked back to his left, seeing an old man with one leg hobbling up on crutches.

“Everyone thinks they’re a fucking comic” the old man said, glaring at Charlie, who was staring at the blank space beneath the old man’s rolled up, tied off pant leg.

“Oh! Oh, no sir, I’m sorry, it was just a line for–”

“Yeah, up yours kid, I can still kick your ass with one leg. Two hits, me kicking your ass, you hitting the ground. The only falling you’re gonna do is fall in love with my boot up your ass. Back in ‘Nam, I used to dodge lead every morning while taking shits bigger than you. You wouldn’t last a goddamn minute over…”

As the old man continued his rant, Charlie slumped in his spot, embarassed, ashamed and confused at his purpose in life. His only solace was in repeating the line in his head, where nobody could misunderstand him.

The bus was 3 minutes late.

When his agent, Lucas Green, had called Charlie up to let him know that there was an audition for a small role in a local film company’s new feature film, Charlie had been so excited, he decided to ride his bike down to Lucas’ office, saving a few minutes and dollars.

“I’ll take it, definitely,” he said as he bounded through the office door, sweating and breathing hard.

In one look over at Lucas, who was calmly lighting the tip of his cigar, he barely had time to realize his mistake.

“Sit down kid, I said it’s just an audition, you haven’t gotten the role yet, Jesus.” Lucas was a salty old man in a young man’s body, jaded by his decade in the southern California ecosystem of dead dreams, broken hopes and the pungent stench of suntan lotion.

“Jesus, did you run down here? You’re sweating so hard I can see that shit getting all over my floor. Whatever, sit on the other chair – no, the other one, that fabric covered one. I didn’t spend a month’s salary on this fucking leather chair for your sweaty ass to get it all moist with your hydration problem.”

“Yeah, sorry Lucas, I just didn’t want to keep you waiting like last time. So what’s the deal, can you share any information about the gig with me yet?”, Charlie rattled off as he tried to catch his breath.

The fabric chair was uncomfortable, missing one arm and flattened over the years by the many hopefuls that had sat here before.

Lucas continued, as he studied the ash at the tip of his cigar, “So, this film studio is brand new, and they’re local, but they’ve just gotten a big dump of local investors involved because their main actor in this film, it’s going to be their first feature length film, the main kid is the son of that lawyer prick, the one on the TV with that crappy commercial-”

“Yeah, the one with that tagline, ‘Why bother praying if I can get them paying?’, Mark Babbott?”, Charlie suggested.

Lucas continued, reaching over to the ash tray on his desk to ash off his cigar.

“…Yeah yeah, that piece of trash. Anyway, his kid, Eric Babbott, is apparently some big YouTube sensation, overnight success and that whole bit, had a stint doing a few interviews on daytime talk shows, whatever. He’s gonna be the star of this studio’s new feature film, and they have a role for his gay best friend.”

“Yeah Lucas, I’m all in, man, I can be totally gay, I love it, just let me know when and where–”

“Shut up and listen, kid, Jesus, I’m fucking busy and I’m trying to brain dump this on you as quick as I can so I can get on my flight in forty-five minutes, okay? So, they have a whole lot of people really interested in getting this film made and put into as many film festivals as possible, where there are going to be a fucking ton of eyes from the industry on it. So it is big, and everyone wants in – think America’s Got Talent big. So they’re going to do a big mass audition, try to knock out as many as they can in one day. So the line they gave out for the actors to practice is ‘This guy is falling for you.’ So get that shit stuck in your head, okay?”

“Definitely Lucas, definitely man. This guy is falling for you. Gay best friend. Got it.”

“Charlie, kid, listen to me here. This shit needs to become your fucking life for the next few days, okay? There’s a lot of people on this, and this could be big for us both. It’ll get you out of that librarian gig you’ve got going on, and can seriously launch you into the fucking atmosphere in this city. You hear me? Don’t fuck this up, kid. You got this.”

It did not bother Charlie that Lucas never seemed to remember what he did for a living. He always referred to it as a librarian job, but Reading Out Loud Allowed was an open-mic slam poetry and improv comedy night that Charlie had started shortly after moving out West.

Working with the various bars and clubs around his neighborhood, it had begun to have a decent following around his neighborhood. It was good practice for testing new character voices out, and paid enough to pay his third of the rent. Sometimes he’d even make enough to cover the cost of an Uber ride somewhere.

He saved the Uber rides for special occasions.

Charlie stood on the corner of the street, glancing up from his phone at the sound of every car driving by.

Today was a special occasion, and so he had decided to splurge from his budget on getting an Uber ride down to the Bay Area Event Center, where the audition was being held.

“Come on Ismael, where the fuck are you? Get your blue Nissan ass out here already.”

The estimated time of arrival for his ride had been 7 minutes. It was 17 minutes in, and the GPS marker on the app had moved about half a block. Even after starting to walk towards the car, the marker seemed to keep the same distance from him.

“This guy is falling for you, you son of a bitch. Where the hell are you?”

Frustrated and nervous, Charlie decided to cancel the ride. He could catch the bus if he sprinted down the block, if he was lucky enough to —

Charlie heard the squeal of the tires on the pavement before he realized the bus stop was in the other direction. Or maybe it was in that direction?

oh I’m somersaulting through the air because I got hit by a car I’m falling this is going to hurt OW sonofabitch what is happening

As his body rolled to a stop, the blue door of the Nissan swung open and the driver jumped out, running over to Charlie.

“Sir, sir – are you okay? Oh my God, I am so sorry, I was looking for my Uber fare and, oh shit, oh my God… sir, are you okay? Can you hear me? Sir. What is your name?”


“Oh, no shit? Hey, that’s my name too, man. Haha, wow, what are the odds of… oh, here, let me help you up.”

“No, no, you’re Ismael.”

“Yeah, I know, and so are you. We just said that. Listen man, I think you might have a concussion. Look, it’d be real cool if we could just not have to call the cops or anything, you know? I wasn’t serious about staring at my phone when I ran over you, because I wasn’t. There was a deer in the street. I couldn’t do nothing, man, it–”

“No, dude, your name is Ismael, my name is Charlie. I’m the one you were supposed to pick up, like 20 minutes ago. What the hell, man?”

“Okay, check this out, so what had happened was, there was this girl jogging down the sidewalk, and she was wearing those yoga pants, you know the ones with the… hey, you know what, how about I just give you a ride and we just call it solid, is that cool with you? No charge man.”

Charlie knew he was under a time crunch, and if he didn’t absolutely have somewhere to be today, he would probably go straight to the hospital. His head really hurt, and his shirt had become torn at some point.

at least I’ve got my shoes still

“Yeah, Ismael, that’s fine man. Let’s just go, let’s leave right now.”

“Sure thing Charlie. Hey, you mind if I stop to pick up some smokes? This whole thing has been super stressful for me, and I’ve got a bad heart, you know? I don’t deal with this kind of stuff very well.”

As Charlie stood last in line, at the end of what seemed to be half the city waiting to get into this event center, he leaned over the shoulder of the girl in front of him, peering down the line of attendees.

Many of the actors were wearing headphones, playing on their phones, taking selfies and polluting social media with dog faces.

Man, it doesn’t seem like anyone is practicing lines or anything. Maybe I over-prepared. Maybe this is going to be easier than I thought–

“Alright everyone, that’s it. Auditions are closed.” said the bouncer at the doorway, a good fifty people between him and Charlie.

Charlie’s heart sunk, as the crowd in front of him started booing and jeering, before slowly dispersing, used to the familiar letdown in this industry.

Charlie turned, and walked back towards the parking lot, letting his hand run against the wall of the event center, thinking about the last few days misadventures.

A door opened behind him, and Charlie heard a few people talking.

As he turned around, he recognized two of the men in the group.

“Mr. Babbott?”, Charlie asked.

The man looked over at Charlie. “Yes?”

“Hello Mr. Babbott, my name is Charlie–”

“Look kid, if you’re here to audition, we’re done for today. These guys have gotta leave, and my son is tired.”

Charlie then noticed the younger man behind Mr. Babbott, dwarfed by his father’s linebacker-esque physique. He was about Charlie’s age, but slightly shorter and with a quiet demeanor.

“Listen, Mr. Babbott, and Eric, I know the auditions are closed, but this means the world to me, and I’ve just… I… it’s been a very weird past few days, and it’s all because of wanting to be here just to tell you–”

“Fine kid, spit it out. Give it your best shot. We’ve gotta roll.”

Charlie took a deep breath, nodding quickly at the lawyer. He looked at the young man beside him, and lifted one hand out towards him.

Gay best friend. Gay best friend. I’m gay, and I’m his best friend. This is it.

He turned his hand over, with his fingers slightly pointing skywards, gesturing at Eric.

“This… guy… is falling… for you.”

Charlie was sure the Earth herself took a sudden quick breath.

Clocks around the world hesitated a moment before they moved to click in the next second.

Somewhere, he knew that someone’s dog decided that, for just a tiny while, Charlie was actually the owner that they really wanted.

Never before had a line been delivered so perfectly, so eloquently timed, so holy in it’s delivery–

“I’m sorry, what was that?”

Mr. Babbott’s booming voice knocked Charlie out of his euphoric self approval.


“Can you say that again?”

“I said,” Charlie started, as he lifted his arm up and gestured toward Eric again, “This… guy… is falling… for–”

“Holy shit.”

They love it.

Mr. Babbott turned to his associate, a young man in casual dress, wearing a fedora and shorts and a Hawaiian shirt. “Tommy, did you hear this?”

That must be the studio producer. He loves it. They love me.

“Mark,” Tommy began, placing one hand over his heart, and throwing the other in the air towards Mr. Babbott, “this guy is falling for you.”

Mr. Babbott and Tommy started laughing, and continued laughing until they could hardly breathe. Mr. Babbott was doubled over, with his hand on Tommy’s shoulder, both of their faces scrunched into a wrinkled mess as they continued with their booming laughter.

Charlie was confused.

I don’t understand. If it’s so funny, how did they go through hundreds of people’s auditions today?

“Sir? Mr. Tommy? Mr. Babbott? What is so funny?”

Eric finally piped in, after having laughed a bit himself, but at a lower caliber than his company, and said “Hey man, it’s Charlie, right? Listen Charlie… we just heard the line we gave out said hundreds of different ways over the past few hours.”

Charlie nodded, and was about to begin apologizing for being so late, when Eric continued.

“Look, Charlie. We just had seven hundred and fifty-two people regurgitate to us the line we gave out the other day, and they all said it in their own special, unique way. We ended up choosing a 67 year old Korean man because he sang the line while playing a ukulele. Whatever, it is what it is. But man… you are literally the only person from today who not only got the line wrong… but damn, man, I think it might actually be better than what we had.”

Charlie’s blood drained from his face.

I got the line wrong. How did I get the line wrong? I’ve said it thousands of times, I’ve written it down hundreds of times. What did I do wrong?

“I… I’m sorry, I don’t understand, Eric. What do you mean I got the line wrong?”, Charlie stammered.

Eric responded, “Charlie, the line was ‘The sky is falling for you’, not ‘this guy is falling for you’.”

Charlie stood right where he was, not moving a single muscle out of fear that the whole world would notice him and his failure.

Oh my god. I’m an idiot.

“Oh, oh, that makes more sense, I guess,” Charlie said quietly.

Mr. Babbott was done laughing, drying the last of his tears with the pocket square of his suit.

“Kid, that was amazing. That was definitely worth listening to that Asian dude playing the tiny guitar for 15 minutes.”

“It’s called a ukulele, dad.”

“Whatever. Anyway, thanks for stopping by, Curtis, right?”

“Oh, uh, it’s Charlie, sir!”, Charlie shouted as he watched the men get into the limousine.

“Lucas, what the hell, man?!” Charlie shouted into the phone.

“Okay kid, you’re right, I screwed up biggo. My bad.” Lucas said.

“Lucas, nobody is ever going to accept me on their set if this gets out. The kid who got the one line of an audition completely not-anywhere-close-whatsoever wrong. And on top of that, they probably thought I was confessing my undying love to Babbott’s kid! What the fuck man?”

“Yeah, you’re probably right. But hey, it’s not like anyone’s gonna bring it up to you at work, right? No talking in the library and all that good shit.”

“Lucas, you suck.” Charlie said as he hung up the phone.

Charlie did go to his regular gig that evening. As he was MC’ing his improv comedy portion of the night, before introducing the highlight of the night, he decided to vent his frustrations out to the crowd.

The audience was laughing immediately, from the misunderstandings between him and the driver, the one legged man, the accidentally-almost-homicidal Ismael, to his reenactment of the ordeal between the lawyer, Eric, and Tommy the director.

At the end of the night, his audience politely applauded the headliners, but then began chanting Charlie’s name, wanting more of his hilarious recounting of events.

When he got home, Charlie called Lucas’ number and patiently awaited the voicemail message.

At the beep, Charlie said one thing.

“Mr. Green, I don’t think I’ll be needing any more acting auditions.”

He hung up the phone, and jumped into bed, his hands folded behind his head as he stared at the ceiling.

“The sky isn’t falling anymore.”

The Pirate and the Boy Who Saved Him

A young pirate captain was on his majestic ship, sailing across the vast ocean. His crew was happy, and they went on sailing for years, pillaging other ships that they would come across, overthrowing other sea captains, and often allowing the crew of the other ships to join theirs.

The pirate captain was happy.

One day, during an epic battle between the pirate crew and one of the biggest ships in the Queen’s Navy, the pirate captain was in a sword fight with three enemy sailors.

He fought like a warrior straight out of a tale, his dual swords slicing through the air and cutting his enemies down with ease.

Suddenly, a young boy came out of one of the barracks, carrying a pistol, and aimed it in the direction of the pirate captain.

Just as the pirate captain slashed at the last man standing before him, he saw the young boy, as well as the pistol aiming in his direction.

The boy fired.

The pirate looked down, and felt no pain.

Suddenly, he heard the thud of a body landing on the ground behind him. He turned around, and saw the Navy captain laying dead on the ground, his sword still in his hand, his outstretched arm above his head, his body frozen in the attempt of his ill-fated attack on the pirate captain.

The pirate captain was safe.

The pirate captain turned back to the boy who had saved his life. He stared at the boy, with his bright blue eyes open wide, giving away the fact that he had never once fired a pistol before, eyes which were partially covered by a lock of hair black as night.

The young pirate captain tipped his three-pointed hat to the boy as he leaned over with a slight bow.

“What’s ye name, me boy”, the pirate captain asked.

“Sebastian, sir”, the boy whispered.

“Aye, well Sebastian, me boy, a t’ousand t’anks and a t’ousand pieces o’ silver me owes ya.”

The pirate captain whistled to one of his crew, and ordered them to leave the young boy on the ship with a small chest filled with silver coins.

Then the pirate crew jumped back onto their majestic ship, and sailed off into the sunset.

Many years went by, and the pirate captain grew old, having lived quite the successful life of a pirate, which was quite rare, as they were constantly hunted by all of society for their ignoble actions.

One day, as the pirate crew was at harbor to resupply their ship, the pirate captain met a beautiful woman who not only failed to judge him, but was rather quite enthralled by his stories from the sea.

As they were sharing a bottle of rum, the pirate captain was reminiscing about his dual sword wielding days, which were no more, after having lost a hand to a stray cannonball many years prior, when the beautiful woman asked if he ever intended to settle down and have a family.

“Aye, me love, t’was always on the back of me mind, but me life has been wrought with adventure and chaos, and the thrills of a nomad pirate captain such as me’self were never too kindly looked upon by the fairer sex…”

The beautiful woman ran her hand across the pirate captain’s beard, caressed his face, and as she leaned over, she whispered “I always wanted to sail the sea… but I fear it was never in my stars, for I get seasick simply by stepping onto a ship. But your tales tell me that you have lived a mighty full life, and I fear I will never cease to dream of you after tonight…”

Then, the beautiful woman gently kissed the pirate captain on his lips.

For what seemed like an eternity, they stayed locked face to face, as the beautiful woman held the pirate captain’s good hand in hers, as he began to shake at the knees, melting at her touch.

As they pulled apart, the pirate captain said, “Bless the gods, me dear, I’ve never in me whole life felt the warm touch of an angel like that… just say the word, and I’ll follow you to the ends of the world and back.”

The night went on, and when it came time to part ways and sail off with his crew, the pirate captain realized that he couldn’t bring himself to go, for he did not want to leave behind the beautiful woman who had taken his breath away, and given in return a warm desire and fullness he had never felt before.

The pirate captain was in love.

He took his hat off, and handed it to his first mate, saying his farewells, wishing his crew the best of luck and long lives, and waved them away until they had sailed out of sight.

Again, many years went by. The pirate married the beautiful woman, they had a small army of children who grew up and set sail on their own adventures, and life went on.

The pirate captain was happy, but grew restless. Time had become a bitter enemy, causing his body to deteriorate even more and his mind to grow cloudy. His feet hurt from walking the solid land, and he missed his majestic ship, and his faithful crew.

His wife saw these things, and tried many times to lift his spirits, but it was fruitless.

The pirate had turned to drown his fears in his bottles of rum, and often could be heard hollering at the gravestones in the town cemetery, battling the ghosts of his past.

The locals had ceased to fear the once powerful and vibrant pirate captain, as he was now just an old shell of his former self.

He had grown fat, had lost most of his hair, and his long flowing beard had grown gray and disheveled. The hook on his hand had been replaced by a wooden knob with a cutout perfect for holding a bottle, and nothing more.

The pirate captain was sad.

Despite all her efforts, the pirate’s wife could not save him from himself. She grew tired and weak from all the fighting, until one day, she had had enough, and decided to leave him.

The pirate captain did not chase after her.

And so life went on, and the long days turned into long months, and the long months turned into longer years. The pirate was lost in a world he did not love, left alone with no friend to share a bottle with, and no enemy to swing a sword at. The pirate captain was alone.

He grew older, and weaker. His swords began to rust, and grew dull. His bottles lay strewn about his home, and his body regretted his heart’s decision.

One day, the pirate decided he would not end this way. He would go out as a pirate should. He would do whatever necessary to right the wrongs, or wrong the rights, in his case.

He would go down to the harbor, and steal a ship, and set sail into the sunset one last time.

Except, he could barely get out of bed. When he finally managed to, barely escaping a broken back in doing so, he barely made it to his door.

With a mighty tug, he opened the door, and what he saw outside his door almost made him fall to the floor.

There was a parade!

The entire town had filled both ends of the street, with children sitting upon their father’s shoulders, and women waving handkerchiefs at the performers in the street.

At first, the pirate was weary, and did not want to be surrounded by all of this joy, for he simply wanted his story to come to an end already, and dammit, these town citizens were getting in his way!

He shuffled along down the road, step by step, often having to put a hand against a wall or a fence post to stop and catch his breath.

His heart was beating a thousand times too fast, and his head ached with all the music being played in the street beside him.

Things began to grow dark in his vision, and sounds grew muffled.

He stopped to sit at a bench, wiping the sweat from his brow with his shirt sleeve. He looked around for a forgotten bottle of rum. Alas, there was none to be found. He saw a young boy running back and forth, peeking between the legs of the adults to catch a glimpse of the parade through the throngs of people watching the festivities.

The old pirate asked the young boy, “hey there, me lad…” The old pirate took a few deep breaths between his words, “would ye mind tellin’ an old man what all this fuss might be about?”

The young boy looked the old pirate up and down, curious why this old man was sitting on a bench not ten feet from the parade, sweating like a dog and panting like a horse.

“It’s the Queen’s Royal Navy, sir! They’re back! It took them 50 years, but they’ve finally killed all the pirates! The seas are free again!”

The old man chuckled at the idea that the sea was ever not free, but then took a sharp breath in as the boy’s words sunk in.

With the last of his strength, he pushed himself off of the bench, and walked to the street, pushing the bystanders aside with a roughness in him that had long been idle.

He looked at the paraders, who upon further inspection, were in battle dress. It was the Queen’s Royal Navy, indeed!

Then, standing on top of a box wagon, the old pirate saw what must have been the man in charge.

The man was middle aged, in peak physical condition, with striking black hair and blue eyes as big as the sea.

But it was what was in the man’s hand, as he waved it back and forth at the crowds, that caught the old pirate’s eye.

It was his old leather three-pointed hat.

This man, he was the one who had killed off the last of the pirates, and in doing so, had obviously killed the old pirate’s former crew, including his last first mate. As the old pirate stood there, wondering how he should feel, knowing that the life he had led and had dreamed of returning to could be no more, the man with the blue eyes turned towards him, looked at him, waving the hat, and continued to turn.

Stopping in mid-wave, the man turned back, and looked at the old pirate dead in his eyes.

The old pirate knew, right then, who this man was. He knew it like he knew the sound of sails flapping in the wind on a cool, cloudless night.

This man, he knew, was Sebastian, the very boy who had not only saved his life, but had felled one of his own crew in order to do so.

This man, who had brought an end to the life the old pirate once cherished, who had ended the lives of so many that had relied on the old pirate, was the one person that had ever saved the old pirate’s life.

The sudden epiphany took a hefty toll on the old pirate’s soul. He felt like he had been struck in the chest with a cannonball.

He almost lost his footing, falling back, reaching his hand out to find the bench behind him, with his wooden hand held to his chest to calm his heart.

It was beating too fast.

The man from the Navy, Sebastian, was running up to the old man, pushing his way through the crowd.

As he arrived at the bench, he looked the old man up and down.

The man, the boy, Sebastian, placed the hat gently on the bench beside the old pirate.

“I know you, old man. I once saved your life, and you repaid me with a ship and a thousand silver pieces. I have led my life in the hopes that I would cross paths with you again…”

The old man looked at the young man, and saw nothing but the young boy from that day so long ago, before him. He had dreamt of crossing paths with the young boy again as well, but his heart was hurting, and not in the heartbroken way he had become so used to over the years, but rather a physical pain, this time. It stopped him from being able to express the words in his lungs.

The boy with the blue eyes continued.

“…I lived every day of my life, and spent every last bit of silver I had because of you, trying to find you. When I ran out of money to fund my own ship and crew, I joined the Queen’s Royal Navy in the hopes that it would bring me to you…” The old pirate wanted nothing more than to reach out to the boy, to pat him on the shoulder, to thank him for finding him and giving him a last good memory to cherish on what was surely to be his last day on this earth. Perhaps he could ask the boy to send him out to sea, as a pirate should always be buried at sea… Sebastian continued.

“For, you see, I did not intend on saving the life of a murderer that day, I did not even intend on leaving that ship alive…

I did not want my last memories to be the vision of you and your despicable crew cutting down my friends, my crew…

…and had I seen my father behind you, with his sword raised and ready to strike you down, I never would have tried to fire that shot into your heart.

And I would have not missed, and killed my own father instead.”

The old pirate’s face grew white, his skin, cold.

The story he had shared countless times to his old crew and the land lovers at the pub, his favorite story of all of them… had all been a lie.

All because this boy was a terrible shot.

He had intended on killing him, and killed his father instead. And while the old pirate knew that his younger self would have reveled in this fact, his older self felt more guilty than he could have ever imagined feeling.

His entire life had been a farce.

He was not the least bit angry at Sebastian, nor did he doubt that he would pay for his actions today, likely at the gallows.

The boy continued.

“And so, here we are, having killed every last pirate sailing the ocean, and the one I have been hunting my entire life has been here in my hometown. Wasting away! A drunk and a fool, with no ship, no treasure, and a rusty pair of swords.”

“His wife left him!”, shouted one of the town members.

Sebastian looked back at the townsman, and looked back at the old pirate with a smug look on his face.

“And the old man had a wife, you say? It figures she would have left him! Who would want to lay by an old and dying pirate like this at night!”

The townspeople laughed and pointed their fingers, with mothers covering their children’s ears, yet standing there with beaming smiles on their faces. Sebastian picked up one of the old pirate’s swords, wielding it slowly and deliberately, feeling it’s weight.

“This must have been a wicked tool of death back in your day, old pirate. But now…”

He rested the tip of the sword on the ground, and gave a swift stomp to the middle of the sword, shattering it in half.

“…but now, it’s a piece of useless scrap. Now, tell me, old pirate, and do be kind, it’s the least you can do before dying on me after I’ve searched for you for so long, and after I’ve asked ALL your friends for your whereabouts…

WHAT, in almighty God’s name, HAPPENED TO YOU to make you such a feeble, weak, pathetic old geezer wasting away as the town drunk on a dirty bench so far from the ocean?

Please, tell me what caused this, and I might let you die quickly.”

The old pirate looked the boy up and down, realizing the boy was a man. A man that any mother would be proud of, and a boy any father would thank the heavens for carrying his name.

The old pirate coughed into his wooden hand, and saw blood which he wiped off onto his pants, and stretched to lean over with his good hand to pick up the hat Sebastian had placed beside him.

It took nearly all the energy he had in him, and as he righted himself, the world was spinning. His arm shot pains throughout his body as he raised his hat and placed it on his head.

He placed his good hand on the bench armrest, and pushed as hard as he could, raising himself from the bench to stand before the boy. A boy who was as tall, no, taller, than he was. But the old pirate had a bad back, and he was hunched over after spending so many years in his bed.

He stretched his back, and stood tall one last time.

He raised his good hand to grab the tip of his hat, and gently tipped it towards the boy, and as he bowed slightly, he could feel his heart pumping the last pulse of blood through his body… his fingers and toes growing cold, his vision growing cloudy, and his head feeling light, he uttered his last few words with every bit of strength that his soul would spare before finally leaving him.

With a smirk so slight, the Heavenly Father could have missed it, he answered the boy’s question.

“Sebastian, my boy…





a new beginning and a big idea

I’m not sure if that title is redundant or not… aren’t all beginnings “new”?

Hmm. Let’s put a pin in that and get back to it later.

In the meantime, thanks for taking the time to read this thing.

I’m not sure exactly what I’ll be using this for, but hopefully it’ll be worth your time if you ever keep up on it.

If you know me, or if you know me via Facebook, you’ll know that I like to both talk a lot, and write a lot.

I don’t even think anyone reads blogs anymore (I guess they remind me of the early 2000’s, if anything), but I’ve become more and more irritated at how difficult it is to find anything I’ve written on my Facebook profile over time. It just feels like such a fleeting and temporary outlet, where people can read it and send a “like”, and then it’s left to be buried by new content and cat videos and the like…

So, here we are – or, here I am, sitting in a Starbucks working on my laptop like some silly yuppie, writing a blog.

This isn’t why I came here though.

I actually had a purpose when I left the house today – I was going to come to Starbucks, get a coffee, put my headphones on, and get to work on something I’m really excited about.

Historically, I tend to be surprisingly productive when I lock myself up in a Starbucks blaring music through my headphones. I’ve achieved certifications, gotten jobs, made friends and all sorts of stuff…

This time, however… I don’t know. I think I’ve hit a road block.

I’ll explain.

So, recently, I had an idea for what I think would be a cool mobile app. But the more I research it and try to get all the information that I would need to make it come to light… it’s pretty daunting, actually.

I’ve drawn out a lot of what I think this app should look and feel like, and even went so far as to Photoshop up some mock interfaces for it.

I’ve begun reading books and listening to podcasts about startup businesses, app design, and all sorts of stuff. And at this point, it seems like this might never get off the ground.

But that’s just the pessimistic side of me coming out and pretending to be a realist (as if the world needs any more of that), I think.

So, what do I need to do right now?

Well, it seems like I’ll need to go about finishing what this thing is supposed to look like, and then maybe talk to a design firm and get a rough estimate on what it would cost to have them develop something that will be as intricate and easy to use as what I have in mind.

In the meantime, I guess I can also focus on doing a bit more market research, and see what real world interest in this thing might actually be, because I fear I’ve fallen into that whole stereotypical profile where I’m sure that this thing is revolutionary, and it’ll be the next big thing, and how could anyone not want in on it?

That’s dangerous.

It blinds you from the pitfalls and issues galore that lurk just beneath the shimmery surface of the ideal.

So I’m trying real hard to poke holes in my own idea, and it’s surprising how difficult it is to do so – except for about a handful of areas where I end up thinking “I’m sure I can just figure that little bit out later, it’s only 100% necessary to the idea working.”


See what I mean?

And after binge-watching Silicon Valley, all of the things I’d already said to myself and convinced myself of were hilariously parodied on the show, and I had to facepalm myself more than a couple of times, shamed at my level of basic bitchness.

Anyway, so that’s where I’m at right now. This idea came up about a week ago one evening, and after I was laying in bed ready to get some sleep… I couldn’t.

I got out of bed, went to Wal-Mart, and bought a sketching book, some colored pencils, a ruler and some pens. I went back home, and spent about four hours drawing out what I had in mind.

I think this should have made me feel better, but all it made me feel was more anxious to get this thing created.

I was I am so convinced this is such a good idea, I wonder why it hasn’t been done before, why someone isn’t doing it yet, but maybe they have and they already realized that it’s a terrible idea, or maybe it’s illegal, or just completely not feasible in absolutely any way, and may the heavens have mercy on whoever tries to make it happen…

This is what is constantly going through my head on the daily now.

I’ve run the idea by a small handful of people, and their response has been mostly positive, but of course they more than likely haven’t done the amount of research that I have into this field in the past week… but maybe that’s okay.

Maybe that’s exactly what I need.

I guess I’m just really hoping that this thing doesn’t end up being a dead end.

I hope that maybe it’ll be worthwhile.

Because if it works, I believe it would really, really help a lot of people.

But it’s scary, you know? Like, really scary. On a multitude of levels – emotionally, financially, mentally, technically…

But if there’s one mantra I’ve tried to apply more and more often in my life over the past few years, it’s this:

“It is okay to be scared. Just don’t let that stop you.”

Though, I do feel that this might just be the biggest thing I’ve done, if it gets done.

I hope I don’t let myself down.

And I hope people dig it, when it’s done.