In my life, there are two paths. That of a writer, and the other a filmmaker (aspiring should be a word to keep in mind of course). I hop between the two fairly often, since both run figuratively parallel to one another.When one is blocked, I simple hop over, and proceed forward.

For the last couple of months, my pens ran dry and notebooks filled (an overstatement but I have done a lot of writing nonetheless). Pifton’s War currently hangs in limbo; the third chapter is barely a page in. That of course did not stop me from starting two other short stories. One revolves around a stranded man on the verge of realizing faith. The first draft for this story is completed, but will need to be heavily retooled. The second story I am currently still writing started off as a short story, but is slowly becoming a short novel (?), that I am scribbling out on PROTAGONIZE, currently under the working title “Inked”.

A week ago, I finally got a new computer. I am now able to go through the hour of footage that I shot during the Winter Olympics, and have basically got it down to around a minute and a half of usable material. Needless to say, I am very disappointed, as I was hoping I could produce a much longer segment. Most of the editing is completed at this point, but the daunting task of infusing music into the footage lies ahead. Nothing like some good editing work though to get me back on track of this wishful film career before me.

New film projects are coming! My most recent purchase at Chapters is a book titled “130 Projects to Get You into Filmmaking”. The goal is to go through every one of these projects by the end of the year, which at this point is going to be June 30th 2011. All projects, when applicable will be recorded on the site. Some are very simple involving nothing more than jotting down ideas, while others are slightly more complexed and will teach me some hands on skills with lighting and camera work. As they say on 30 Rock, “Things are happening!”

Amanda read the first draft of Verney and thought it was “good”. I take her opinions regarding my work with a chunk of unprocessed salt. Despite her protests, I think she is worried about hurting my confidence and will never give me the criticism that I so desperately need. Good thing my friend Kelly is not afraid to rip me into shreds.

I presented him with my second project, “Pifton’s War”. He gave me subtle props after reading the first chapter. I now doubt his shredding skills. He too is soft and sentimental, worried about feelings. I sought a thorough beating for my work, the kind you would find behind a back alley. Perhaps I should follow the suggestion of posting it on a message board for strangers to review, though I am unsure I can handle that kind of an assault.

My third and most recent project is a short story revolving around a man with a literal killer look. This is the first time I am taking the time to write an outline, and I finally understand why why good writers take the time to produce them for any story, regardless of length. Even before completion, I already recognize several points and areas where I 1) can improve the story overall, and 2) address conflicts so that they are not “miraculously” resolved.

Because of my projects, the posting for the site have suffered. I have been told that my posting habits make it hard to build loyal readership. Apparently, a regular posting schedule accounts for a large part of what makes a website gain patronage. This is something I will continue to work on, but not something that I can promise. Though I would like to gain readers, it’s just not my style to barrage my site with updates if I have nothing to say.

James Cameron’s Avatar has been under heavy scrutiny since its debut at the box office. Many have attributed its success to nothing more than stunning visual, distracting audiences enough for them to overlook a poor storyline and terrible dialog. Its disappointing night at the Academy Awards, where it failed to win Best Picture or garner James Cameron as Best Director, only added fuel to the barrage of attacks from online blogs and movie critics. The same critics who at one time condemned the Academy for failing to properly recognize cinematic achievement, are suddenly all on board, and praising them for making the right choice in their selection. A movie should be considered a great film when it captures the audience’s attention – whether through imaginative visuals, intriguing plot, or compelling dialog – send a message that makes the audience think, and does it with flair in a way that gives those in attendance a new experience. Avatar easily carries all these qualities.

Let’s get the obvious out of the way. Visually, Avatar is astounding. Over 10 years in development, it’s obvious the time and effort by James Cameron was well spent. With a budget over $300 million US and new technology developed for the movie, it created animated characters with facial expressions and features identical to those of the actors while they were filming the scenes. The movie features a world (Pandora) with vibrant colors, amazing computer integrated scenery, and employment of 3D industrial holographic technologies. A movie can be a wonder in many different ways. Because it favored a particular element, it should not lend credence to it not being a great movie, or seen as only visually entertaining. One must inspect all there is to realize the beauty within Avatar.

To realize its greatness is to remember one very simple fact, one so simple that most consider it trivial. However, it is of tremendous importance that we remember – Pandora does not exist. Pandora, nor its inhabitants, is real. The wildlife, the exotic plants, the Na’vi and how they interact with nature were all created by James Cameron for Avatar. In other words, this world’s origin is James Cameron’s wildly imaginative mind. The world of Avatar displays wildlife with unique characteristics – trees that glow upon contact, fungi that engulf itself when in danger. The movie also introduces a new form of humanoid-animal interaction via nerve endings between hair and tails. Let us not forget the Na’vi dialect developed solely for the movie.

One, especially as a movie critic, must not fail to recognize that a movie can achieve legendary status in many ways. The critic must realize that a great movie does not always need to have an original story, or dialog so witty that the audience will quote it for years to come. A great tale can be told through words, visuals, or character development. Telling it through one over another does not make it a better story or worse.

The telling of the lore only needs to spellbind the audience and instill some kind of a moral message enough to better the watchers’ lives. Avatar brings audiences on the edge of their seat for the entire 162 minutes, and makes it feel like a 90 minute film.  All the while, it delivers a sermon that questions our morality in the face of profit. Avatar is a great film, but not because it was shot in 3D, or featured animated characters with an uncanny resemblance to real actors. It is a great film because it embodies the characteristics that all great films possess.

Joan Jett dumps a plastic bag of loose change onto the sales counter. She points at the customer flirting with the cashier. “I want what he’s wearing.” Another scene shows Cherie Currie, countering rowdy hecklers at the school talent show, with two slowly raised middle fingers. My interest in music is limited, that is to say my iPod contains more podcast than it contains actual songs. The few tunes that are existent in the device are official movie soundtracks and scores. Yet Cherry Bomb and the rest of a Runaways CD have made their way onto my playlist.

The whole movie itself, was a cookie cutter bio-pic. Origin, first gig, success, height of fame, downfall, on screen text informing the audience of each band member’s current stage. The Runaways works, and pulls in the audience because Flora Sigismondi showcases the right scenes and stages of the band’s brief existence.

Bio-movies about big stars and recent stars are easy. People already care. The Runaways lasted four years. An all girl band playing a genre of music dominated by male bands that sang about satisfying the male libido. Yet, the movie works. Sigismondi shows the heart of Joan Jett, her love for rock music and The Runaways. The movie depicts the ease with which the music industry, Ken Fowley – The Runaway’s manager – in particular, robbed Cherie Currie of her innocence at age 15, marketing her to the world as “jail-bait” to promote the band and sell records.

My fascination with the band will be swift. Wikipedia for a week, listen to their CD, and watch a few youtube clips. The Runaways isn’t there to turn you into a new age fan. It just wants to tell a story about the highs and lows of the most influential girl band in rock and roll history.

7 in the morning. The alarm clock would go off in 5 minutes. Amanda and I had to meet the building manager in 30 minutes. No time to “dilly-dally” as she often says. I jumped into my jeans and threw on a shirt. There was no time for a shower. I still had to load a couple more boxes into the van. The packing still wasn’t done.

We stopped at the 7-11 to get her a Translink pass for work and a coffee for me. Beginning the following day, her daily commute increased from a 10 minute walk to a 30 minute skytrain/bus ride. Mine decreased significantly. The total distance I walk to and from work in one week, will equate the distance she travels in one day. Life is good.

The building manager was nice enough to lock up an elevator for us. This meant it only went from the ground floor to the 15th floor (our’s), and nobody else but Amanda and I would have access to it. The trolley came in handy once again. The mattress, bookcases, and tables were moved with little difficulty by a single person. I would have paid fifty dollars for it had they asked – only in hindsight of course.

For the remainder of the week, Amanda and I opened our boxes and put things into place. Our DVD collection merged. Surprisingly, with over 250 DVDs between the two of us, we only had 4 of the same movies – Pulp Fiction, Edward Scissorhands, Catch me if You Can, and The Lion King. We also now have enough plates and utensils, should anyone come over to join us for dinner.

After almost a month of inactivity from the commotion, my work station is back in place. I have a great view of the city sitting at my desk. I see lights across the city turning on as people come home from work, and flickering off as they retire for the night. The Skytrain stops below me every few minutes. I watch the people come off and disperse to their lives.

Maybe it’s the view, maybe it’s Amanda, but I’ve never wanted to write as much as I have since recent weeks. I even sat down and made you listen to me tell a story about my moving day. The second draft for Verney is complete. After getting Amanda’s opinion on it, maybe it will be ready for shooting.  Either way, as Liz Lemon said when she called Jack, “Things are happening!”.

Her boxes were neatly stacked in the middle of her living room. Only a set of sparsely knit curtains seperated the living/dining/study from her “bedroom”. Her belongings were few and ready to be transported. Such is the advantage of a minimalistic lifestyle.

The new tenants had already drop-shipped their supplies and marked their territory. We were expected to vanish for good. This would be our final goodbye.

Amanda’s boxes were light, as were her furniture – a benefit of MDF. The cargo van was a block and a half away, another tragedy of the Olympic games. The road closures had complicated things.

A large family dined in the sushi restaurant at the base of her building. They watched me with amusement as I struggled to balance a desk on the trolley and stay in control of the wheeled device while heading downhill. On the walk back for more furniture, I watched them with amusement as they struggled with their chopsticks. The events repeated itself on all 5 trips. We were like babies and “peek-a-boo”.

I enjoyed moving Amanda’s furniture. I use the word “enjoyed” only in relative comparison to moving my belongings. We required only one trip, and everything went through without a hitch. Nothing of hers was left behind and she didn’t have to pack more boxes while I was moving them. It was the difference between draining the flood from Hurricane Katrina, and wiping up spilled milk on a kitchen counter.

The boxes came up to my chest. One on top of another, they stood three high. Within them held my life, or at least a large part of it. The remainder still lies within the crawl space at my parents house, sitting in two neon colored Rubber Maid tote crates. It was hard to navigate around my kitchen/living room. That is the conundrum of dwelling in a bachelor suite. Thank God I was on my way out. While the company had been pleasant during my stay, a different life beckoned. It was time to move on.

My partner in crime – Amanda, and I made one last effort to capture all those that had escaped my attention, and managed to remain at large. A pen sat on the counter top, two pictures frame laid within the cupboard, six jackets, three pillows, and a golf bag filled with clubs have somehow eluded me. She was annoyed, yet she did not nag. Living with her will be easy.

The U-Haul rental van awaited us outside, ready for us to fill her with the literal building blocks of my life. Getting them out to her was not an easy task. An already narrow walkway to the back alley was congested with garbage cans and recycling bins. An out of service mini-van registered more than half the walk way.  The steps that were present also diminished the use of my trolley. The seven dollar rental fee seemed to be a lost cause.

I went back inside the house and surveyed the scene. Thirteen boxes vs. one man…and one girl I refused to let lift a finger. Efficiency vs. ego. My pride prevailed. I squatted low, and attempted the dangerous triple box shuffle. It would’ve been easy for a strong burly man such as myself, but driving the van around and using the trolley to wheel the boxes out seemed more logical. I did not want to waste that seven dollars.

Twenty minutes later, she was filled to the brim with the contents of my childhood, teendom, and adult-so-called-life. The suite still contained parts of me. I am a terribly inefficient packer. Amanda mentioned this. We laughed. Well, she laughed.

Unloading thirteen boxes, three at a time, required two people and five trips up the elevator and five trips down. The operation had to be completed in stealth mode. It was against strata policy to move in during the evening.  The walk from the van to the apartment elevator was a good half a block, plus a 2 minute trip in the elevator. Three boxes at a time instead of one, the trolley had proved its worth.

Verney is almost done, thank God. After talking about it for so long, I wasn’t even really sure if the project actually existed. Tonight though, it will be all done…hopefully. Possible upload to the site when all it’s completed?

And then I also have the footages of events all around Vancouver right now. How many people are actually interested in that?