Ramblings From Adam Part Six: Hey, Remember When I Did This Regularly?


How're y'all doing? It's been a while since I did one of these, eh? I know, I've missed them just as much.

Speaking of writing, here's a post all about writing! This'll be fun for ME.

Sometimes I wonder if I"m actually a writer. Like, should I consider myself a writer? Refer to myself as a writer? Be proud of the work I've done? I'm not really tested, you know? Not to brag ('cause there ain't much that's braggable); I've written stuff and I've made stuff. Yay! But, like a lot of indie filmmakers at my level, or comic writers, or lyricists, sometimes finding an audience takes a while. 

Personally, I'm hoping that "a while" wraps up PDQ. 

So, I've got a body of work that can fit in a leaky thimble but I don't know if it's any good. 

But does it have to be good? Do I need people to see/read stuff that I've created out of my brain thoughts for me to feel validated-- yes, yes I do. But do I need those qualifications to consider myself a writer. 

Some people will say if you paint a picture then you're a painter. Which I guess is technically true... Again, I'd prefer the validation, but that's just me...

Then I guess I am a writer. And here's the thing, which I just realized last week. I'll complain all day, every day, and most of the night about not having anything to write. I'll claim that I don't have any ideas, that I haven't had any time to write, that I haven't put anything down.

HOWEVER... The last film project we shot, which had minimal writing in it, to be fair, was in July. I started to write it with Damian in April. Since then we wrote an entire Christmas variety show, and I've outline at least three projects, written one of those (poorly), and completely overhauled and done two passes on a limited series that Jess and I started two years ago. That's all within a year. 

That's a lot of writing, dude. Could I do more? YES. Do I want to do more? YES.

But... I guess, when it comes down to it, I should consider myself a writer. That's what I do. That's who I am. 

Please comment below to validate this statement.


The difference between being a child and being an adult can be boiled down to how you feel about snow.

I'm never not thinking about Kevin's dog Mike Hat. 

Here's the problem with most reality shows, besides the obvious problem of them being terrible ideas that are dramatically edited to make it seem like something actually happens: the shitty music. Get rid of the terrible music and half of the shows are actually watchable (when there's a commercial during the show you're ACTUALLY watching on the other channel). 

We're showing the kids Singin' In The Rain and the kids won't stop saying "No, no, no! Yes, yes, yes!" It. Is. The. Greatest. (But also make it stop, please.)

Wrote 68 pages in the last two days. I'm pretty proud. I mean, they're not great pages...  but still.

Mice are terrifying because they're like GIANT FUCKING INSECTS. 

Vindictiveness level: Trayce didn’t want to watch Michael Bolton’s Big Sexy Valentine’s Day special so I live texted it to her while she was at work.

Goddamn, I don’t know if I’m any good at it, but I love writing. There’s nearly nothing that I do that makes me happier than looking at a script that I wrote. Not even reading it. Just looking at the formatting: the character cues, scene headers, dialog boxes, action description. I’d marry it if I could. 

There's no other way to describe the cold blood adrenaline rush of dropping one electronic device onto another, except for "FuuuUUUUUUUUU!"

You guys, sometimes I worry that there aren't enough spinoffs of TV shows that are still on the air. 

I will never understand how people can talk with their phones on speaker. It's the worst. You can barely hear shit through those speakers. Also, you're in public. I don't need to hear your baloney. Hold your phone up to your ear, you selfish, ignorant bastard. I don't care if you're my dad. 

Think about whenever you watch a "best food truck" or "most delectable restaurant" tv show. Imagine they're serving a burger. They look delicious, right? Especially in their imperfection. Juicy, stacked high, dripping, sliding. So why, then, do fast food commercials go to such great lengths to make their food look "perfect"? It. Do. Not. Make. Sense. (It do look plastic.)

Happiness is turning down a side street where there are no parking regulations and absolutely no other cars and NO ONE TO JUDGE HOW TERRIBLE YOU ARE AT PARALLEL PARKING.

Why does faking a phone call get us out of situations when the reality is that most people don’t make phone calls?

One Direction and Phox both hold the distinct honour of being discovered by me precisely the day before they went on indefinite hiatus.

The second season of Gilmore Girls fixes the double hug between Lorelei and Rory in the opening credits and life is alright again. 

Is Frankenstein’s monster adopted by the doctor? Or is he considered a son of sorts, because Frankenstein created life? ‘Cause then HE’S ALSO FRANKENSTEIN AND WE CAN STOP WITH THE “ACTUALLY”’S ALREADY.

I saw someone today wearing a baseball hat that said “Kangol” on it. My immediate thought was “stay in your own lane, Kangol.”

Jessica Jones gets more phone calls in half an episode than I’ve got since I turned 30. 

I could eat twelve boxes of triscuits a day. But not plain triscuits. Unless there’s a nice Boursin cheese or a slice of gruyere. I’m not an animal.

Any year that there isn’t a clear cut winner for Best Song at the Oscars, it should go to My Heart Will Go On again.

Legitimately, what’s the deal with people who would rather walk down the middle of the street where the cars are, than on the sidewalk? Is this a cultural thing? Like, is our culture become dumb people? Or is this an exercise alternative? “You know, Darlene, working out is just too much effort. So I’ve developed a new way to get flat abs.”