Mind of Migg

(500) Days of Summer was our last screening at the LA Film Festival. I saw this trailer a few months ago and couldn’t wait to see the film. The best part about the screening was that we heard at the beginning that Joseph Gordon-Levitt, Zooey Deschanel, the director, and the writers would be available for a Q&A afterwards. That made the night.

The basic premise of (500) Days of Summer is in its tag line: Boy meets girl. Boy falls in love. Girl doesn’t. JGL (that’s a long name to type out fully) is mindlessly going about his job when Zooey starts working there. Instantly, there’s a connection. At least for him. She is a girl who doesn’t believe in love, and wants to have a good time while she’s young. He is a hopeless romantic waiting for “the one”. Despite these wholly opposing viewpoints, they begin a relationship.

We see the relationship in fragments, not in a chronological order, but in segments like brief memories. The writers explained afterward that most people don’t remember things in the exact order they played out, but go back and forth across different moments. So the movie shows JGL’s bouncing between the good and bad memories trying to figure out where it all went wrong (it’s not a spoiler to note that it starts off at the end of their relationship). The sky grows darker with each day that’s shown. It’s not a downer movie, as there’s plenty of laughs and plenty of bright moments. Instead it’s a look at the life of a relationship and how sometimes things just don’t work out, no matter how badly one person wants it, if the other can’t reciprocate.

There were elements of fantasy mixed into the film, and a great dance number that had the audience laughing out loud. Another interesting tidbit that came from the Q&A afterwards was that it was actually a very personal story for one of the writers. As uncomfortable as he was discussing it, his writing partner was equally enthusiastic to point it out.

The crowd was great, which made the movie more enjoyable. JGL even did a backflip for everyone after an excited guy asked him, “is there anything you can’t do?”. The guy asking the question nearly fainted. I’m glad I was able to see the film as part of the festival and I can’t wait to see it again when it’s released in theaters later this summer.

This past week at the LA Film Festival, I was able to catch two short film segments early in the week, and two indie films later in the week. Overall the short films were very good. Some really stood out as great, while others left a little to be desired, but all were well done and professional. As far as the two features, I had seen trailers for both films and was anxious to catch them. First up, was Paper Heart.

Paper Heart combines real footage with a fictional narrative. The premise is about a young girl, Charlyne (most of the actors just use their real names) who doesn’t believe in love. So she goes around interviewing different people across the country and getting their thoughts on love. At the same time, while she’s back home in Los Angeles, she meets Michael Cera at a party (the fictional part of the story) and the two develop a romantic relationship.

The movie completely works mixing in the two aspects together because of the performances of Charlyne Yi and Michael Cera. They are both awkwardly hilarious and had great chemistry. The interviews with real people and their love stories was entertaining too. It didn’t mock the people the way Borat did, it took them seriously, no matter how sappy or silly the people were. There was also some creative footage mixed in with the stories that made it more entertaining. The movie never slowed down and never felt out of place moving between the cross-country interviews and scenes in LA.

The director, Nicholas Jasenovec, as well as Charlyne were in attendance for a Q&A after the screening. She was hilarious in real life too. She was just like the character she played in the film, and I’m pretty sure she was even wearing the same red jacket. It’s fun to hear the creators of a film right after watching it. It gives you an even greater appreciation for it. I highly recommend Paper Heart when it comes out later this summer. I plan to catch it again. It’s a sweet and fun comedy that’ll brighten your day.

Yesterday was my first day of class for one of two UCLA extension writers’ program. This class was the short story one I wrote about last week. It was strange being on a campus walking to class again. The first thing I noticed – UCLA’s campus is HUGE. It’s not like walking around CMC or even from CMC to Pitzer or Pomona. That might cover one small section. I had to check a map before leaving, and then scour the map to first find my building and then to find the nearest parking structure. After parking I knew which direction to go and the general area, but I still managed to take two wrong turns and walked into class a few minutes late. Another ten people walked in after me, so I didn’t feel too bad as class got underway.

The class is set up like a workshop. That means no desks: we sit in chairs in a circle. I wasn’t sure exactly how it was going to go, so I brought my computer and also a fresh pad of paper and a pen. I had to go with the paper and pen. I’m pretty sure I’m losing the muscle memory of how to write, because my writing has always been pretty bad, but now it looks like a four-year-old’s. I haven’t written so much in such a short period of time in years, and all I did was take simple notes.

The instructor seemed very knowledgeable and gave the group a laid back feel. As we went around the room introducing ourselves, my first thought was, “finally”. “Finally” meaning, finally I was in a room full of other artists and finally I was being proactive about writing. It was an eclectic mix – from high school to late 50’s, writers, filmmakers, visual artists, teachers, and book lovers. It’s going to be an environment of constant reading and writing, and everyone going out on a limb and submitting their work to be dissected by the class. I’m so excited to read the work of others, and have my work scrutinized by peers. That’s one thing I haven’t done and it’s long overdue: meet with other writers, and put my work out there for others to read. It’s frightening, but after the first class, I realize it won’t be so bad, and extremely valuable.

The other thing I thought while we were going around the room was that I don’t read nearly enough. People were rattling off books the way I do indie films. I had no clue what any of them were, but I knew this was a problem. It’s part of the reason I took the class. In fact, I introduced myself as, “a writer who is a horribly irresponsible reader”. I’ve been improving, with scripts, at least, but haven’t read much fiction at all. That’s going to change dramatically this summer.

After the success of this first class, I hope that I feel the same way when my other class starts next week. I’m looking forward to the first real workshop class next week. Three people volunteered to have their stories handed out first, and after briefly glancing at them, I’m impressed. I’m looking forward to a summer full of books and writing.

Those Who Remain (Los que se quedan) is a documentary currently screening at the Los Angeles Film Festival. It kicked off a week of eight screenings and a conference for me. Violet joined me for this screening and we hurried to Westwood to pick up all our tickets and passes before heading down to the Landmark in time to get some good seats. It was a great way for us to start the festival.

Those Who Remain is about nine different families across Mexico who all have one thing in common – they all have loved ones or relatives living and working in the US. Some of the families had members preparing to leave, some had members returning, others had members who would never return or didn’t make it.

The movie stayed away from politics, which was nice, and focused solely on the lives of the families. There were some heart-wrenching stories. There was the father who returned home after years away because he missed his family. He was afraid he was going to have to soon leave again, because it was the only way the family could afford to send their daughters to school. There was the elderly couple who had two sons and a daughter returning home after 9 years away. There was the woman whose husband was robbed and killed while in the US, shortly after speaking on the phone with her. She never learned the details of the death.

The cinematography was amazing and the imagery beautiful. There were some powerful pictures and the filmmakers were really able to capture the heart of the people and their surrounding environment. It was a great film visually as well as the narrative it was telling. I really enjoyed this moving and seeing the perspective from the other side of the border. We too often see only politically charged stories, or stories showing only the lives of immigrants once they’re over here. We rarely get a chance to see the families they are supporting, or the lives affected by their absence. This film did an excellent job of showing just that.

Eric and Shayna finally took the plunge last weekend, getting married at the Belamar Hotel in Manhattan Beach.  I was fortunate enough to be one of Eric’s groomsmen, so I had VIP access to the entire process and all the events leading up to the big moment.  I treated it as a dry run for my own wedding.  After the madness of last weekend, we’ve got a tough act to follow.

The pre-wedding events got started on the Thursday prior to the ceremony.  There was a rehearsal event in the afternoon we missed because we were taking our engagement photos out and about in Redondo Beach.  We wouldn’t have double booked the day if we had known when it was happening though.  A special shout out to Eric for giving his side of the wedding party the schedule for the week at about 6pm on the Tuesday before the wedding.  We were able to make the rehearsal dinner though and had a great time with friends and members of both families.  Friday was a little mellower.  Eric had a BBQ at his house for his friends and family that evening.  We went through our college yearbook and told old stories.

Saturday was the big day.  We made a quick stop at Best Buy to get a new digital camera (Violet broke our old one, although she denies it).  We went with a Sony Cybershot DSC-W290.  It had great reviews, and it was an upgraded version of the old Cybershot we had, so we already had an extra battery and extra memory cards that were compatible.  That made the difference and we were sold.

We got to the hotel around 1pm and hung out with Eric, Jerry, Dan, Namita, Ramon, and Grace for a while, killing time.  We ordered some pizza, had a few drinks, and waited for the bride and her party to arrive before getting ready.  When they finally did arrive, Eric put on his dress pants and shoes just in time for Ramon to drop a Diet Coke that exploded, spitting soda out across the entire room.  Eric is lucky he was wearing black.  We cleaned up the mess and waited for the Groom’s gift to arrive.  Shayna sent over Irish car bombs for all of us.  After the shots, we brought Jerry over, dressed in a Darth Vader mask, to deliver the bride’s gift.  Eric and Shayna had taken some pictures at Dodger stadium, one being a shot of Eric down on one knee proposing.  He framed it, and was able to get Vin Scully to sign it.

Once the gifts were exchanged, time started to fly by.  Eric’s parents came up, and then they headed down to start taking pictures.  We followed shortly after to be a part of the pictures.  There was a bit of downtime between pictures and ceremony, so we went back up to the room for a bit.  When it was time, we got to take a cool passage through the basement so that we could come out through the back of the courtyard.  It felt like walking through the halls before a game.  Before anyone knew it, we were walking out and things were underway.

The ceremony was awesome, both because it was personal and because it was short.  Shayna’s grandmother and Eric’s sister performed the ceremony, which added a great family touch.  Shayna dropped the ring, and Eric was able to coolly find it while simultaneously throwing in a honeymoon joke.  The whole thing couldn’t have been longer than 20 minutes.  They were announced, they http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Jewish_wedding#Breaking_the_glass broke the glass and then sauntered down the aisle.

The photographer got a really cool shot of the entire crowd looking up from a balcony, which I can’t wait to see.  There were more pictures, some appetizers, and finally, it was time to get the party started.  Shayna’s boss is a crazy guy who’s a lot of fun and he was the MC for the night.  He introduced the wedding party and bride and groom like a starting lineup, with height, hometown, and how long we’ve known the bride or groom.  We lined up on each side of the dance floor and high-fived each other as we ran in.  It was awesome.  After that, the first dance, performed live by Eric’s brother-in-law.  Then, more of the traditional: father-daughter dance, son-mother dance, some great speeches by Shayna’s dad, Eric’s dad, Jerry, and Lindy, and a good steak dinner.

The slideshow played at dinner, and I was really happy with the crowd reaction.  It took a lot of time to create, especially since I had to shake off the editing dust, but I’m glad that Eric and Shayna loved it, and that the crowd enjoyed it so much.  I’m going to put it online soon, so everyone can see it.  After dinner, the music and dancing started.  The DJ played a good mix, and completely sold us.  Shayna had recommended him for our wedding, and we weren’t sure, but after that night, we’re gonna talk.  The traditional bouquet throw happened, but Eric did a little something different instead of a garter throw.  As http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Rock_and_Roll_(Gary_Glitter_song) Rock and Roll Part 2</a> (du du da da da da da, HEY!) played, servers brought out tequila shots and limes for all the guys.  Everyone took the shot at once.  Violet and Namita even got a great picture of them taking the shot with Eric’s dad.

From there, the night started to get blurry.  The bride and groom cut the cake on the dance floor so as to not stop the flow of the party.  Violet, Phil, Ramon, Namita, and I decided to do a group rendition of http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TaqYgWc8-vs “>“Elephant Love Medley in the photo/video booth they had set up outside.  This seemed like a great idea at the time, but the booth only recorded in 30 second increments, so we had to keep stopping, going, stopping and then finally gave up after about 5 minutes.  I can’t wait to see that video.

The official reception ended at 10pm.  The hotel let it go a little later, until about 10:45, but there was an after party in the upstairs bar.  Since it was restricted to a small wedding by the location, they had invited many more friends to join everyone at the after party, so we met up with Victor and some others in the bar.  After more screaming, more shots, some arguing about economics with Victor for fun (I didn’t even wholly agree with what I was saying, but it was fun to play drunken devil’s advocate), it was 1am and time for the bar to close.  Nobody was ready to leave yet though, so they had to turn the lights on to start getting people to head out.  Unfortunately for them (and fortunately for everyone else), bringing the lights on gave Nam and I the bright idea to perform our greatest rendition ever of “Elephant Love Medley”.  This didn’t go so well because we couldn’t remember the lyrics, and I started singing more quietly because there was an angry security guard glaring at us.  The guards finally got fed up and started yelling for everyone to get going.  We left the bar, and crashed.

The next morning was painful.  It was tough to stand, and small movements made me dizzy.  We stopped by the morning brunch, where I got some much needed food and liquids before heading back home.  It was an amazing celebration, an awesome party, and I’m excited for the both of them.

I received an email today from the instructor for a class I begin next week. I’ve enrolled in two classes this summer through the UCLA extension writer’s program. One is a course about writing a drama pilot for television. The other is a creative writing course on short stories. The latter is the course that begins next week and the one I received an email about. The instructor was looking for three volunteers to make copies of their short story for the class to read on the first day. My first thought was, “holy crap, our stories will be read out loud?” My second thought was, “holy crap, am I supposed to have a completed story already?” My final thought was, “holy crap, I haven’t even read a short story in months. What was I thinking?!”

After glancing at the class refund deadline date and calming down a bit, I looked through the course description again and realized that I didn’t actually have to have a story already finished. That was a relief, but I do know that whenever I do complete one this summer, it’s going to be read by the entire class. A little intimidating, but I’m sure it’ll be a huge help in the long run as I try to branch out from screenwriting. I’m excited to get one down on paper, because I’ve tossed a few ideas around, but haven’t actually written a short story since high school.

As for the reading aspect, I know that’s a vital component to being a better writer. I’ve tried to be a better reader of scripts lately (I read Good Will Hunting two days ago), but I’ve been a terrible reader of fiction. If I’m not reading a script, I’m reading about the film industry, the craft of writing and directing, or trying to stay up on current events. That doesn’t leave much room for fiction, but I’ll have to try and make time now.

So I decided to do the good thing and start prepping for the class. Just earlier today, Violet bought The Best American Non-Required Reading 2008 at Borders because it was on clearance. How can you say no to a cool little book like that for $4? Violet also has a few other short story books already, but this one had a cool cover so I opened it first.

I flipped through it, looking for a random story to choose, and then I saw it: Stephen King. I didn’t think I’d see a name I recognized in the book, and I’m a fan of King’s so I had to read that one. It was the story about a miracle tied to a death. A single touch from one sick person to another leads to a miracle recovery, and a responsibility. I found it very touching, and a wonderfully written story overall. It flowed nicely, and had a subtle, mysterious sense to the whole thing. I connected with it, for many reasons. I know he had an accident of his own years ago. I don’t know how much of his experience went into this story, but I feel like it had to play a part.

One of the first books I read after my accident was his, On Writing and it left a lasting impression for me. I just find it at once strange and exciting that I would happen upon a story like this, written by him, at a time when I’m preparing to push myself as a writer more than I ever have before. Maybe there is a little something more than coincidence at play in situations sometimes. I like to think there is.

I originally had no intention of seeing The Hangover in theaters. Then the hype started. People had nothing but great things to say, and it even received plenty of positive reviews. So I became curious. When I found out that even Roger Ebert gave it a thumbs up, I knew it was theater worthy.

The Hangover is a pretty straightforward plot: four friends take a quick trip to Vegas two nights before the bachelor’s big day. They toast a couple of shots on the roof of Caesar’s Palace as their night begins and then the next thing know, they’re waking up in their destroyed suite with no memory of what happened the night before. Not only that, but the bachelor is also missing. They have to use clues they find to piece together the events of the night, find their friend, and make it back to the wedding on time.

You couldn’t really call The Hangover a work of art, but it delivered exactly what it promises; lots of laughs. It was great seeing it with a crowd that was looking for laughter too. There was a great balance of slapstick and funny dialogue, without resorting to blatant gross out humor (for the most part). I laughed throughout the movie and never felt like it ran out of steam, like so many other comedies do midway through. The Hangover is definitely worth catching. It’s a fun group movie, or even a movie if you need a laugh.

I had originally booked a flight from LA to SF for Wednesday night.  Keith was arriving in SF Thursday afternoon, so we were going to hang out with Phil during the day, then meet up with Tridi and a few others Thursday night before driving out to Lake Tahoe on Friday morning.  I decided to clear my head and get some fresh air by taking a road trip up Highway 101.  I stopped in Monterey, CA early enough to drop off my bags, and take the short trip to the beach so I could catch the sunset.  It was windy and freezing, but definitely worth the view.

I headed back to my hotel, and realized I had the perfect location.  Right across the street was a Chipotle, Starbucks, and Great Clips.  I needed a haircut, I love Chipotle, and I was planning on doing some work in the morning before finishing the drive to San Francisco.  After grabbing a burrito, I headed back to my room and buckled down for a night of writing.  I made a lot of progress, completing the first draft of my spec script for “The Office” and making some headway on my Monsoon rewrite.

The next morning I got my haircut, checked out, and spent the morning continuing my rewrite work.  I grabbed another Chipotle burrito for lunch and headed out.  Between the quiet night and morning of writing, and the relaxation of the beautiful drive, I was feeling worlds better than when I began the trip.  Something about taking a pleasant drive really does wonders for me.  It’s nice to have that time alone singing bad off-key music.

I met up with Phil and Keith that afternoon and we played some H-O-R-S-E.  I was quickly reminded that my knee is not quite right yet.  I felt a little twinge when I tried an acrobatic shot.  I went down to Phil, but not before taking out Keith and getting Phil an “H”.  Afterwards we watched the disappointing Game 1 of the NBA Finals and then met up with the other guys for a night on the town.

The next morning, the three of us slept in.  The other guys had plans to go ATV riding in Tahoe that afternoon, but we decided to pass, opting for a good nights sleep instead.  We took our sweet time getting on the road and finally made it into Tahoe around 4:30 on Friday.  The drive in is beautiful.  I hadn’t been to Lake Tahoe in over ten years, and I had never seen the road coming from the south the way we went.  It was cold, rainy, and foggy, but still enjoyable.

The house Duc had chosen for us was fantastic.  Two decks, giant kitchen, grill, and jacuzzi.  Add the prepped food given to us by a caterer friend to grill and we were set.  We enjoyed a night of barbecue and poker on Friday.  On Saturday, we stuck to our original plan of white water rafting despite the bad weather.  Our cabin was in South Lake Tahoe, but the rafting site was on the north side of the lake, so we had to take the winding road up the west side of the lake.  Amazing views, but also terrifying to look straight down at some points.  The rafting site had wet suits and rain jackets, but that didn’t keep my hands and toes from going numb.  Rafting wasn’t nearly as death defying and treacherous as I had envisioned, but there were definitely some big drops and tough rowing moments.  It was a ton of fun, if nothing more than to see the terrified look on Trilo’s face after every small bump.

After thawing out on the drive back from rafting, we grilled up some great ribeye steaks and chicken.  There was so much meat over the entire weekend: I had steak and chicken for breakfast the next morning too.

Of course our great luck meant there wasn’t a cloud in the sky on Sunday morning.  It turned out to be 20 degrees warmer and perfect weather as we were leaving.  It didn’t matter though, it was a great place, fun people, and a good time, despite the bad weather.

What do you do when you lose a friend?  What do you when something so horrific happens, you can’t even process it?  I’m struggling to find an answer to those questions right now.  I’ve written some pretty personal blogs over the last few years.  Some might think it a bit much to be so candid and open when any stranger who happens upon my site can read my thoughts, but I find it helps.  I can articulate thoughts through typing that I could never clear up in my head, or get out verbally.  I guess you could say for me, it’s therapeutic to get something written and know it has an audience.  I find some comfort in that.

After my accident five years ago, there were two things that helped me through the difficult months that followed: writing, and reading about the experiences of others.  I’m not sure why it was so reassuring to read random blogs and articles even if they were unrelated to my exact experience.  Maybe it’s the sense that you’re not alone; others have suffered similarly and much worse.  For those in mourning or rehabilitating, life goes on, difficult though it may be.  I hope that if others going through a difficult time happen upon this, they can relate.  If not, I hope people at least enjoy the read.  Short of that, it at least gives some insight into how my crazy mind works for those who stay for the whole thing.

After the events that took place on Saturday morning in Glendale, Arizona, the only thing I know how to do right now is write.  It’s the only way I can even begin to make sense of what happened.  I’m not going to link to the news article with all the gruesome details, but it’s easily searchable given the facts I will reveal below if you’re that interested.

I’ve known Mike Miller since 2^nd grade.  We didn’t hit it off then, when I considered joining Boy Scouts (his dad was the leader for our part of town), but backed out at the last minute.  A couple of grades later, we both had a shared interest in the Phoenix Suns and basketball.  At a time when I felt like an awkward outsider, he was the one friend I knew I could always count on.  From about 4^th grade through junior year of high school, we were best friends; playing basketball for countless hours at his house and mine.  I learned how to go up and under a taller player, how to play defense against a player twice my height, and how to lose many, many consecutive games of one-on-one gracefully (or not so gracefully) over the years.

The summer before sophomore year of high school, I was lucky enough to go with his family on their annual trip to Lake Tahoe.  We spent the first week camping, and the next two weeks in a cabin a few blocks from the lake.  Most of our time was spent swimming, skiing, barbequing, and hanging out.  Not to mention our time spent the first two days with the infamous twins from Oroville.

We grew apart later in high school.  I was taking nothing but honors and AP classes.  He was trying to get out of every class he could.  He played on the varsity basketball team.  I played on the varsity tennis team.  We’d still check in pretty regularly with each other though.  I remember when he excitedly talked to me about his newest crush: Adreana.  I remember hanging out with them regularly as they grew closer.  Then I remember the phone call that changed everything.

My memory about the summer before our senior year is fuzzy now.  I don’t remember having time to even figure out what a normal wedding was supposed to look like, but before I knew it, I was the best man at their wedding.  I think it was pretty rushed: had to make it official before the birth.  I didn’t even own a jacket, so I wore a white dress shirt and a tie that was too long.  The reception consisted of the two families in his parents’ living room.  I didn’t even know I was supposed to give a speech.  It felt like a birthday party.  I don’t say that as an insult to the families, but I know the planning of the actual event was more of an afterthought than making sure the baby would be born in wedlock.

We really lost touch while I was in college.  I can’t place dates, but I do have memories of seeing them here and there over those years.  A couple of times, it was at a new apartment complex where Mike was living alone.  Other times it was at a home where they were together.  It was an on again, off again relationship, but I never kept in touch long enough to know how long each instance lasted.  I remember we met once to go out, and another time to play some basketball.  It was a sad, slow game for both of us.  I remember going swimming with the three of them at their place once.  They all came to a family barbeque we had one summer.  I even did a CUTCO demo for them.

The CUTCO demo was one of the more recent times I saw them.  It was shortly before my accident.  I remember how big Valerie had grown.  I saw her most often when she was a little baby, so seeing her after a few years was quite the change.  A few months later, my dad helped get him a job at Unique Impressions, the print shop where I worked part-time, initially to save up for school, and then later to get back on my feet.

It was then that I learned about his mental illnesses.  This was around early 2005.  He told me how he went over a year with certain delusions that made it difficult for him to hold down a job.  Once he was diagnosed with schizophrenia and bi-polar disorder and began taking medication for it, he realized exactly what he was thinking and saying and was very embarrassed by it.  I can’t even imagine starting to lose touch with reality and struggling to realize what is real and what isn’t, but that’s what began to happen to Mike.  Even more devastating is the fact that these types of diseases often don’t appear until later in life.  A normal person suddenly becomes a person that is hardly recognizable to those closest to him.

I moved back to California around the same time that he started getting sicker in spring of 2005.  He would tell my Dad certain things that make his statements in the police report from this weekend no surprise.  They had to let him go at Unique and that’s around the time that I lost touch with him for good.  I always worried about him, and hoped that he’d stay on the medication and that it would be effective.  Add to that the struggles he went through with Adreana, and I knew he was facing an uphill battle.  It’s tough for any teenage pregnancy and marriage to survive, but when she was pregnant again around that same time, they tried to make it work.  I was never able to meet their son, but I’d like to someday.

When I first read the news of what happened, I couldn’t process it.  My heart started pounding after I read the email I had received from an old friend who knew how close we were.  But I still had to re-read it to understand why.  I read it two more times, then stood up to head back into the kitchen.   As I did, the full weight of what I had read hit me and I fell back into the chair.  I kept thinking it was a typo, or that maybe they were only injured, but not actually dead.  Arizona felt so far away at that moment, it didn’t feel real.  I ached, and not just for Adreana, Valerie, Brian, and Mike.  Images of everyone would flash in my head: Adreana’s parents, her sister, Mike’s parents, his brother, his sister.  A tragedy like this affects so many people in so many ways.

What hurt most is the way it was initially reported: an open and shut domestic violence case.  Here’s another deadbeat wife beater.  I couldn’t help but read the comments below each of the news articles.  People were ready to burn him at the stake then and there.  I anxiously awaited reports about his mental state.  I knew it had to be related to that.  I hoped it was related to that.  I couldn’t believe that the person I grew up with was a cold-blooded murderer.  I saw the love and affection he would show his daughter.  I never saw him act violent.  I remember one fight he was in and he had no idea how to throw a punch because he never acted out violently.

Eventually the reports about his delusional state started to surface.  It didn’t change people’s perceptions though.  Suddenly, instead of a deadbeat, he was more of a coward, making something up to get out of it.  Even if he were sick, surely his conscious would keep him from doing it, right?  So and so knows someone who is bi-polar and he would never do it.  So and so worked with both of them and he seemed normal, so he’s making it up.  It’s awful how little people understand mental illness.  It’s abhorrent how many people are quick to judge things they don’t comprehend.  Sometimes, ignorance makes it easier to function in each person’s small bubble understanding of the world.  I’m reminded of the Mitch Hedberg joke, “Alcoholism is a disease, but it’s the only one you can get yelled at for having.  Goddamn it Otto, you are an alcoholic.  Goddamn it Otto, you have Lupis…one of those two doesn’t sound right.”  People are quick to defend the physically handicapped and equally quick to disregard a mental disease.

Before anyone gets worked up, I’m not defending his actions.  I know that he’s going to spend the rest of his life in a prison or mental facility, and that’s where he belongs.  What I’d like people to know, though, is that he was no heartless killer.  He was sick, and this was a terrible, terrible consequence of that.

My heart goes out to both families and to their son.  I can’t even begin to think of the road that lies ahead for him, and I hope he has all the love and support he needs to get through it.  Adreana and Valerie, your time was cut far too short.  Mike, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry that you couldn’t be helped.

So what do I do?  I remember the good times, when we were innocent kids having fun.  I remember what he was like before the schizophrenia kicked in.  I remember a sweet little girl and her father, and both of their eyes lighting up as he held her.  I remember laughing with him and Adreana in a bar and Violet failing at Laser Tag the last time I saw them together.  I wish things were different.  I keep waking up thinking it was all a dream.  As more time passes and I accept the reality, I remember these good times, because these memories are all I have now.