My 10 Favorite Films of 2016

I woke up this morning with no internet and no hot water. I've had a few bad breaks lately and the old me would have taken this as a sign that the world was conspiring against me. I would have gone back to bed and stare at the ceiling while I let the crippling anxiety wash over me in a cathartic way. Similar to the days I would skip class if my horoscope was below a 4, it's easy to take something small and let it snowball into a stress monster that can ruin your whole week.

But I called the internet company and I called the plumber and both problems were resolved quickly. Who knew that if you address your problems head on sometimes they come to amicable conclusions quickly?

Something Dean the plumber said though will stick with me.

"Sorry about the water heater man, did you have to come back to let me in?"

"It's ok, I'm actually not working right now. Just sitting around here being worthless."

"No you're not man, you're here and that's all that matters. I was a class A idiot when I was your age. I watched all the people around me get corporate jobs, families, two story homes and I was living in a tiny apartment. I didn't get my act together until I was 40. I started this plumbing company and now I have a reason to get out of bed every day. Something to take pride in. Every time you start to get a little low just remember that you're out here trying to make something happen. A lot of people said 2016 was a bad year, but it was the best year of my career and I'm only looking forward."

Sage words from Dean, my trusty handyman.

But sometimes in order to look forward, we have to look back and with last night's Golden Globes now in our rearview, now seems like an appropriate time for me to share my favorite films of the year with you. 2016, while not an overly strong year in film was an important one and for all those that sometimes look to me for advice on what to check out, well here you go. Hopefully this goes better than my list of best Christmas movies.

10. Moonlight
While it may seem that I am trolling you right off the bat by not having this film higher, I think Barry Jenkins small indie was a good movie that could have been great with a few adjustments. The pacing of the movie felt strange to me in which we see three actors play a growing man over three thirty minute vignettes. The movie also had a very abrupt conclusion which could have been a creative choice or perhaps a victim of budgetary constraints. That said, Moonlight is an important film and while many will point out its importance in LGBT circles, I found the most devastating portion of the film to be the times it was focusing on the cycle of poverty and the despair of addiction. I can't wait to see what Berry Jenkins does moving forward and Mahershala Ali's 15 minutes on screen may have been my favorite performance of the year.

9. Manchester by the Sea
I'm not sure if this would be the best or worst movie to show to a person with depression because no matter how bad you think you have it, I assure you the protagonist in this film has it worse. Famously developed for Matt Damon, scheduling conflicts did not permit him to eventually star so he implored writer/director Kenneth Lonergan to give his friend Casey Affleck a shot. After seeing the finished product, it's hard to imagine anyone else in the starring role. Whether or not you give credence to the accusations that Casey Affleck behaved inappropriately on the set of 'I'm Still Here' one thing is for certain, this guy is a fantastic dramatic actor. Michelle Williams also gives a brief but heartbreaking performance in the Massachusetts based drama. It is a great film but be warned it will take a lot out of you. My mom bought a ticket to this just because La La Land was sold out. I still don't think she has recovered.

8. Fences
Denzel Washington is truly one of the greatest actors of our generation and Viola Davis proves once again that she is a national treasure. What I found truly striking about watching this film is how many issues of the day (the film takes place in 1950's Pittsburgh) are still relevant now over 60 years later. Family tension and how was chose to express ourselves among those we love most is a truly timeless struggle. I very much look forward to the partnership between Denzel Washington and the film's writer August Wilson (adapted from his own play of the same name.) Denzel has agreed to bring 10 more of August Wilson's stories (all plays dealing with African American life in different decades) to the screen. At age 62, Denzel Washington, who also directed the film, is possibly still peaking in his craft.

7. Nocturnal Animals
It was weird. It was meta. It had a chilling score. But those performances. My God. What is it that makes so much Hollywood talent want to bring their A game for a guy who designs eyewear? But I suppose that isn't fair criticism as Tom Ford is now very much 2 for 2 as a director and any time you assemble talent that includes; Amy Adams, Isla Fisher, Jake Gyllenhaal, Michael Shannon, Michael Sheen, Aaron Johnson and Laura Linney I'm probably going to have a good time. Artie Hammer was just OK. I'm still not sure I understand the ending, but I'm always going to be a sucker for a film about writing.

6. Hacksaw Ridge
I've always been extremely interested in American History specifically World War II, and I'm also probably the one person in the world who preferred The Pacific to Band of Brothers, this was a movie right up my ally. Furthermore, I've been squarely in Andrew Garfield's corner since I saw the haunting Never Let Me Go seven years ago. You know the story by now, a conscientious objector volunteers for the Army but won't shoot a gun, but it's the second half of the film which largely consists of one sustained battle sequence that really blew me away. Mel Gibson has a long way to go to earn the respect and forgiveness of many, but there is no denying him as an artist. Hacksaw was perhaps the most powerful war film since Saving Private Ryan.

5. Weiner
I enjoy documentaries in the same way I enjoy a podcast. This is some passive entertainment that I can absorb while doing something else with my time, like driving to work or cooking dinner.
Not this film. This had me captivated from the opening scene. As much as we all dove face first into the political machine in 2016, Weiner shows what can happen when a seemingly good guy with personal demons really goes off the rails. I rode a wave of emotion during my hour and a half viewing experience. I'm rooting for him to, actually this guy is a creep...to OMG this clown cost Clinton the election? Required viewing for anyone that has even the faintest interest in political science and a reminder that your 2016 wasn't THAT bad.

4. Hell or High Water
Chris Pine is a lovable anti-hero. Ben Foster is a foul mouthed villain. Jeff Bridges is a grovelly voiced Sheriff. Put this all together and you have a modern day Western/Heist film set against the barren landscape of the sweeping nothingness of West Texas. This film was refreshing for me because I knew absolutely nothing about it going in and proved that you don't always need complex character motivations to drive a story. Sometimes you just need money fast so you rob a bank, or banks in this instance. The film served as a reminder to me of how good writer/director Taylor Sheridan is at playing in a sandbox that combines the classic feel of a Western while updated to Modern Times. Sicario was one of my favorites last year and I am very much looking forward to 2017's Wind River.

3. La La Land
The hot takes are already swarming in about this movie and how overrated it is.
"It's a movie about a guy mansplaining Jazz." "Ryan Gosling can't sing." "Do cell phones not exist in Damien Chazelle's Los Angeles?" "Is Emma Stone's character unaware of how a concert tour works?"
Shut up. All of you. It's a movie about two young adults trying to make something happen for themselves in a city that can simultaneously be so magical and so cruel. Perhaps my plight as a struggling writer living in Venice Beach make me biased. Perhaps the fact that I'm a hopeless romantic who is obsessed with singing and dancing and that blinded me to criticism. Or maybe I saw Emma Stone vowing to stay in on a Friday night before getting dragged out to a party in the hills and I saw every single one of my weekends for the past 5 years. I took issue with the ending, but no one said that in Hollywood everyone lives happily ever after.

2. OJ: Made in America
This feels like a cop out. It is technically a movie and will be eligible for the Oscar come February, but it played out for me like a TV series. That said, it would feel unfair to leave this off my list as OJ Simpson dominated the headlines in 2016, from FX's fantastic dramatic series The People v OJ Simpson to the huge wave of renewed interest in true crime. And whereas I felt unengaged by Pablo Larrain's Jackie (A Jackie Kennedy biopic) because I didn't live through the events, Ezra Edelman's documentary played out in a captivating way showing the rise and fall of a giant; truly an American story. While at times it can feel gross watching the events of a story like this unfold, revelling in the high drama, it serves as a reminder that there is no greater story told than that of real life.

And now with apologies to 20th Century Women, Hidden Figures and Loving (none of which I have seen but I have heard great things!) and further acknowledgements for Arrival, Rogue One and Zootopia (which just missed the list!) we arrive at number one:

1. Sing Street
It was a Tuesday night in April I believe and I was on my couch watching Begin Again for the 7th time. I pulled out my phone to see what Irish writer/director John Carney was up to. He had a new movie apparently: Sing Street. Terrible name, I thought, but it was worthy of checking out the trailer.

Before I had even finished I found the film playing at a local theater at 10:30pm, the only showing of the day. Although I don't typically fancy staying up until 1 am on school nights I couldn't go another day without viewing this film. I was rewarded with perhaps the most charming and hopeful film I saw of 2016. Without giving too much away the story is as such Boy changes schools. Boy meets girl. Boy starts band to impress girl. Chase ensues. Picture School of Rock but set in 1980s Dublin and you should have a general idea of what Sing Street is about. John Carney is consistently putting out films that make me feel something and that is high praise for a medium once thought was meant only to help us escape. At 44 he is just entering his prime as a filmmaker. So do yourself a favor tonight when you get home. Fire up Netflix and then watch Sing Street, I promise you won't turn the soundtrack off for the next couple weeks.

That's it guys! Hope you enjoyed the list, I'll probably be back later in the week to do it for TV which I promise will be a tad more obscure than my film picks.

Venezia

It was a cold February morning when Venice first came into my life.

I awoke like always on a twin mattress in a flat on Viale Matteoti. As I arose I saw on my nightstand (that was actually just a stool) my pay by the minute Italian phone and a half full liter of wine that I had purchased for 1 Euro on my walk home last night, or rather this morning.

I took a swig as one is wont to do 5 days after their 21st birthday at 8am on a Saturday before checking my phone. I had a message.

-Carnivale?

I put my phone away not knowing what to make of it. I stepped out into the common area where 2 of my 9 roommates had awoken. We had no internet or TV but we had boxes of DVDs our parents had sent us. I think Jack was on the couch watching One Tree Hill on his laptop.

'Do you guys know what Carnivale is?'

'It's a party in Venice.'

'When is it?'

'Today. A girl in my wine class said Coolio is supposed to play.'

Now I've never lived my life by many rules, but I think if you have a chance to see 'Gangsta's Paradise' performed in Italy, you have to take it.

Within 15 minutes we were walking to the train station. We hadn't even been in this country for a full week and we were already going on an adventure based on a rumor.

The day, like so many around that time, was full of possibility.

Upon arriving at Venice Santa Lucia it was raining, it was cold, most of the locals looked miserable. But not us, we purchased 2 Euro Zorro masks and disappeared into a crowd of likeminded heathens.

For those that have never been, Venice is a truly ridiculous city, a never-ending labyrinth of logjam pedways and eerie canals. I understand why it has such a bad reputation among tourists. Once you get past the water taxis and gondolas the town is a logistical nightmare. But for three twenty somethings in search of a good time, it was paradise.

We had no map, no plan, no place to stay, just a positive attitude and a general inclination to follow the crowd in front of us. When we finally found St Mark's square we purchased 4 bottles of champagne and began to look for Coolio. Our version of a road trip film, a poor rip off of Harold and Kumar go to White Castle.

Along the way we met other travelers who shared our goal.

"I heard he's performing from a gondola."

"I think it's rained out."

"No he's just playing at a random bar."

At some point I slipped and fell into a canal, a right of passage I assume. I drunk dialed my mom because for the first time in my life I was halfway across the world from her and when I could handle no more of Venice's mysterious twists and turns, I demanded that we go for pizza. We were in Italy right?

After a day of pointlessly wandering around a city drinking wine straight from the bottle we decided we better catch the last train back to Florence lest we be forced to pass out under a bridge.

As I waited in line to buy a cup of Sangria from a 10 year old boy outside the train station I finally ran into my friend Amy, the one who had sent the text that started this whole journey.

"Hey, did you guys ever find Coolio?"

"No, turns out he played LAST week."

Of course he did.

***

I was at an Apres Ski at Breckenridge Brewing Company when I found out we had lost our apartment in Venice. We had such high hopes for 2346 Pacific. We were going to put a couch on the roof so that we could watch sunsets over the ocean.

Our future landlord informed us that we had been outbid. But how could we be outbid? We signed a lease.

"Well then i suggest you find a place to live during the 9 months of litigation."

Bluff called.

My roommates and I had 2 days to find a place to live. I had recently moved out of a hippie commune in Encino and they had been evicted from a place in the Hollywood Hills for um...excessive noise.

The Venice Beach experiment was over before it had even started. We would have to do like we did in the Summer of 09 and live in a combination of fraternity houses and 1 star motels.

But then at the 11th hour Jack found an ad on Craigslist for a 3 bedroom unit at 627 Westminster. With myself and Nick at work, jack was the only one that could tour the apartment.

"We have a place to live. The landlord gave the unit with the front yard to this girl, but she seemed cool."

I didn't care about a yard, or a shower or anything. For really the first time in my life I was going to have an apartment with my own room...something everyone should experience by 25. The Venice experiment was back on.

That first night I laid on the floor, I had no mattress, no chair, no desk. I had one suitcase full of everything I owned but I had a 100 square foot bedroom that was all mine. And that's all that mattered.

Things were interesting in those early days. There was a  body found on my block the first three months that I lived here. I soon learned to check the Twitter account Venice311 to find out if the 'fireworks' I heard were actually gunshots. Venice was changing. The old guard that had spent their entire life here was being forced out due to rising costs and gentrification.

Crack was openly dealt two doors down from me and I had the general idea that this really wasn't a safe place. But I never cared. I was paying $800 a month and I could walk to the beach. I made a deal with myself the first year that I would go to the beach every day so that I would never take it for granted.

People would visit, I would show them the colorful people on the boardwalk, the serene majesty of the canals. I would dazzle them with tales of Abbot Kinney the developer who gave us Venice Beach. Show them maps before 'Venice of America' had any roads. Point out the old racetrack for which 'Speedway' bears its namesake and even show them where the old pier had burned down that had given rise to Skateboarding.

Walking past murals of The Doors, Arnold and his muscle beach cronies, down Windward under the glorious 'VENICE' sign tracing the famous steps from the opening shot of 'Touch of Evil' I sang the praises of this strange Bohemian paradise to friends new and old.

Over time the small beach cottages were torn down in favor of large post modern townhouses. Abbot Kinney (the street) became flooded with high end menswear stores and chic dining options from the Pacific Northwest. The long haired surf bums gave way to guys named Chad that work at Google, Snapchat took over my favorite bar and it seemed a place I loved was taking a turn for the worse.

But Venice endured.

For every Silicon Beach bro that moved into town a VNC member would work twice as hard tom preserve our neighborhood's unique history. Development would boost property values for existing owners, reinvigorate long dormant patches. Rose and Washington exploded, rumor is that Lincoln is next.

So while some people 'don't get it' I understand. Perhaps you feel unsafe walking down 3rd at night and seeing a tent camp. Perchance it annoys you that you have to pay a 50 cent tariff to the homeless man that stands outside the 7-11. Maybe you think the streets are too narrow and the character too colorful. It's a bubble they say. Once your friend moves to the west side, they're gone forever. Always West of Lincoln.

Well I would argue that I never leave is because this is where I want to be...where I'm meant to be.

Not a Sunday goes by that I don't crave a slice from Abbot's or at least casually suggest a group outing to Mao's. I knew about the Canal Club/James Beach stamp trick YEARS ago and wrote a television pilot entirely based on Townhouse.

I bike to the Santa Monica pier every Thursday of the summer taking full advantage of the lack of open container laws and I still never miss a chance to catch that sunset in the spring when it dips over those gorgeous mountains.

Ya, Venice is an amazing place with more in common with its namesake than we give it credit for. It's this really odd piece of the world that just so happens to call out to a unique few, and when I'm walking home down Sherman Canal after a turkey burger from Hunan's I understand how lucky I am to be one of those people called Venetian.

I'm coming up on five years here, still at 627 Westminster. Some of the faces change (cycled through 8 roommates!!!) and while the set dressing may change a bit, the city really doesn't,

I still wake up every day and walk down 6th to get a coffee with the same wonder I did when I first showed up in 2012 or when I got off that train 6000 miles away. This truly is a marvelous place. I told myself when I moved here from Indiana that I would not get to LA and stop 5 miles short of the beach.

Well I didn't...and on a clear night sometimes when I'm alone with my thoughts I'll go for a little swim and talk to the moon.

The Other Side

I know a person who is in pain. It could be a man, woman, boy or girl.

You may know this person, you may know several. They could have the world if they could just, if even for a moment, get out of their own way.

We forget a lot of things in our lives, some of the good, some of the bad, but most of what we forget is in the in-between. But I remember when I was 14, I said one of the worst things I think I ever said in my life and I'll never forget it.

A girl in my class discussed an uncle that had died of alcoholism in the framework of a conversation about deadly diseases.

"Alcoholism is not a disease," I offered, "It's a problem."

Now this was 15 years ago. I don't remember where we were as a country in regards to mental health, and it's possible that at the time, my opinion was a popular one. Regardless, it was a callous thing to say and one that haunts me to this day.

We never know how we are going to react to something until we go through it. We can prepare, we can brace for impact, but until that moment comes, we never truly know how it will catch us. Many of my friends, friends stronger than me, have had to deal with the loss of loved ones, some expected, others unexpected.

I've watched brave colleagues fight through disease, disease that has no business attacking people so young, but I was truly caught blindsided when addiction came into my life in an unexpected way.

See I am no an addict, at least I don't think I am. I fall into the category of people that like to have a really good time (sometimes too good) but understand when it's time to shut off the jets. As such many of the people I surround myself with are cut from the same cloth.

We chalk it up to 'being young' and 'living life to the fullest.' We tend to view our behavior as mildly Sophomoric instead of reckless and dangerous.

And maybe it's true.

But sometimes people lack that safety valve, that thing in the back of our mind that tells us we need to settle down and that is when things can spiral down a very scary path.

Those that know me well will know that there is a person close to me who is battling some demons. They are doing their absolute best to win the fight, but there are setbacks along the way. It rips me apart inside because as badly as I want to fight this war with them, it is largely a battle fought from within.

I worry now. I never used to worry about anything.

I never called my parents when I was a kid. Whatever, I was out late, I fell asleep watching a movie in a basement. I didn't understand what it meant to be scared, really scared, about the safety of a loved one. I went through a period last year where I dreaded every phone call. And not dread in the way that my boss is going to make me come in this weekend or my girlfriend found out I lied about being sick so I could watch football. Actual life and death dread.

Phone call at a weird hour? This could be it. This could be the call that changes everything and my life will never be the same. Or it can be just another checkpoint in the long heartbreaking saga.

And of course I feel a tremendous amount of guilt because of the way I live my life. What pedestal do I have to stand on when I make the decisions that I do? Who am I to criticize the way anyone chooses to lead their life? But then what do I do?

Do I change?

I don't want to change. Sure I stay up too late on Saturdays, but that was a conscious choice. I fully intended to sit on my couch the entirety of the next day eating pizza. Maybe I'll grow out of it, but that's what I wanted to do.

It isn't about me, but I've tried to use words to work through my feelings. I did a 6 minute Monologue at The Moth about the conflict I feel inside. Where did it go wrong? Am I to blame, is there yet more that I can do now that I'm not already doing.

While writing this I wonder if this is my story to even tell. Sure I worry, I dread anytime the phone rings and I struggle with the daily choices I make, but that is nothing compared to the pressures felt by the person going through the depths of addiction.

And yet I am helpless.

There is no physical manifestation of this disease that I can lobotomize from this person's brain. There is no magic phrase that will make everything ok, so I continue to say I love you and I believe you will get through this even on the days that I'm not so sure.

I've read the forums, I've attended the meetings. They all say the same thing, there is no magic elixir, everyone fights at a different pace. We depend on the power of prayer and positive thinking, encouragement to take it one step at a time.

I know there will be bumps in the road, but all I can offer is my unconditional support that one day things will get better because I know how strong this person can be. Maybe you are going through this now as well, maybe you will some day, if I can offer you one solace just know that there is hope.

Hope for a day that things will get better, hope for a time that all can be forgiven. And in the mean time I will do what works for me. I will press onward and try to be a beacon of strength for this person, to tell them that I do not blame them for anything. I will try not to look back because that in itself is an exercise in futility. I just keep three phrases in my back pocket whenever I go to a dark place, they help remind me that there will again come a day when this star brightly shines.

"I love you."

"I believe in you"

and lastly...

"You will get better."

Jealous Writer Syndrome

What do you want to be when you grow up?

Popular? Someone's boyfriend? A guy that gets invited to parties on Friday nights?

When we are young, we are so shortsighted. It's hard to see even a week, month, year into the future. This is why so many of our decisions we make when we are young turn out to be those of the poor variety.

I didn't know what I wanted to be when I grew up until I was 25. Before I landed on 'professional writer' here are a few things I thought I had a legitimate shot at.

Ages 3-9: Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle
Age 10: Ninja (By 10 I knew that anthropomorphic life-sized turtles were not real. I still think ninja is a profession)
Age 11-13: Designated Hitter for Tampa Bay Devi Rays (I could hit the ball far, I still can't catch a pop up. Chose the Rays because they were a bad team in an affordable coastal market)
Age 14-19: Lawyer, specifically a v charismatic litigator like Lt. Danny Kaffee
Age 20-24: Uhh???? Broke socialite? Is BroBible hiring?

Alas I now have a clear vision of what I want to do. I want to write narrow coming of age half hour television shows that will live on streaming services or likely basic cable. It only took me a quarter century to figure it out, but that's half the battle right?

There is one problem...one in three 20somethings in Los Angeles wants to do the exact same thing.

Let me diagram for you the anatomy of a Writer's Room. On a comedy there will be between let's say 8 and 14 writers mostly in their 30s and 40s. These men and women will make anywhere from $4,000 a week to $10 million a year.

There will also be anywhere from 4-10 assistants up there making roughly $850 a week. Most of these people are in their 20s (though I have seen script coordinators old enough to be my father) and fun and energetic. These people become your friends.

Or rather frenemies.

Friends in the way that I will help you respond to boys on Bumble. Friends in the way that I will totally come to your birthday party this Saturday.

But if my homie that is a CE at MGM asks me what I think of your script? I am ripping that thing to shreds.

See it's a tenuous existence in the writer's room. On some shows the script coordinator is the first in line for a promotion. On others it is one of the writers' assistants. Sometimes a guy like Aaron Sorkin will decide he loves his PA and promote him to producer. I was on a show where the show runner (boss) ran into a random office assistant (NOT IN WRITERS ROOM) in Vegas and made him Staff Writer on Monday. Sure, it's weird but that stuff happens.

You can imagine then how competitive these jobs are, not only are you in line for a 425% salary bump and admission into the writer's guild...it is the final step between you and achieving your dreams.

And of course part of you is so happy for a colleague when they break through and make it.  But part of you will always be thinking, why didn't they pick me?

Was it that one time I screwed up my boss's lunch? Do I wear too much pink to the office? Is my demeanor not friendly enough at 9am? Is it because I had that last cocktail at the wrap party 2 years ago.

Of course talent works into it, but a low level staff writer in a writer's room is never going to make or break a show. They are there to pitch a couple jokes and maybe explain some recent trends to the old folks. Tinder jokes are lame now, talk about Hinge...stuff like that.

Furthermore, most of the 'young' writers you meet are pretty good. They're not bad, they're not prodigies like Damien Chazelle. Maybe incrementally better than you, or maybe they found themselves in a slightly better situation than you and they ran with it.

I would describe the feeling of seeing one of your 'friends' promoted to seeing one of your buddies start dating a girl you had a crush on.
Of course you're happy for your friend, she's a great girl....but...but

Why not me?

Should I have bought her a drink, invited her to that dance...been a man and, god forbid asked her on a date? These things will eat at you and then you go into a mode of self preservation. This my friends, is Jealous Writer's Syndrome.

Now I've drawn the parallel between your friend getting the job and your friend getting the girl. I will now expand the metaphor using a movie I'm sure you are ALL sick of me talking about but I believe it is a perfect encapsulation of this feeling.

Andrew Lincoln (Rick Grimes) in Love Actually plays the best friend of Chewetel Ejiofor (was going to call him Solomon Northrup but that feels wrong...lets just say Chewetel) who is marrying Keira Knightley.

The whole movie Rick Grimes is kind of a dick to Keira Knightley and you don't really know why. But as the movie progresses you realize that he was more so just avoiding her. When you finally figure out near the end of the film's second act that he was madly in love with her, she asks 'but you never talk to me why...'

He responds, 'it was self preservation.'

He was protecting himself from the madness that routine interaction with her would cause him. She could have been mine if only ______.

You may have found yourself grow distant from a friend that you had romantic feelings for but lost out to a buddy. I know from past circumstances I have gone head to head with friends over a girl many many times (I usually lost) but then I kind of drifted to the background because it's too painful to stay in the picture.

Furthermore any time I see a show like 'Girls' a show like 'Love' to a lesser extend a show like 'Master of None' get greenlit, I struggle to watch.

Dozens of people will ask 'did you watch _____ oh my god you would absolutely LOVE ____'

And I'm sure I would but the Jealous Writer Syndrome (JWS) in me can't allow myself to watch because you know what...I probably could have written it too...and so too could thousands of other aspiring writers out there.

Of course I'm conflicted because as a millennial I LOVE seeing our stories told. It's good for writers of my age to be getting work, I'm sure in the long run it helps us all, but somehow I just can't shake the feeling.

So while I'm happy these shows are made, I'm happy that my colleagues are promoted, it always comes back to 'but why not me?'

I believe humans are programmed to act in their own self interest and you have to really work at developing empathy and while I can really appreciate my three writer friends that broke through this year one of the reasons I find myself able to be so happy for them is they are not in direct competition with me (Sci-fi features and TV drama) it would be the equivalent of them all dating gorgeous red heads if I wasn't into red heads.

Note: I am into red heads.

But jealousy, like hate can be toxic, so I'm going to try to work though it. Perhaps I can learn how to be a better writer from my peers instead of ignoring their work altogether and feeling sorry for myself.

At a time when there is so much content there should be room for all of us and instead of dragging each other down we should be lifting each other up for the greater good. I think everyone has something to add and I am ready for the stereotype of the bitter, cynical writer to go away. We need our cleansing giant notecard scene to feel unburdened.

Because after all, we all had dreams of telling stories, and well at least mine, they all had happy endings.

4th and 1

I have long thought that the most boring play in professional sports was the punt on 4th and 1. No, not when a team is buried deep in their own territory but when the ball is around midfield and the drive has just stalled a bit and the goal is RIGHT THERE. Why would you not try to go for it? Or at least try a long field goal...something, right?

Conventional wisdom would be that the punt is the 'safe play.' If you fail on a 4th and 1, you are set up worse than had you played it safe.

Of course I am not alone in this line of thinking, there is the highly successful Arkansas high school football coach who never punts. His argument is that giving the ball back to the team when you have an opportunity to score is irrational. He has a record of 77-17. Or there is the highly publicized case of Ron Rivera, the Carolina Panthers coach. After back to back losing seasons, Cam Newton and the Carolina Panthers started out 0 and 2, perhaps due to some vanilla play calling. But one thing was certain, Ron Rivera would be fired any day...until he decided to go for it on 4th and 1, the rest of the season; earning the nickname Riverboat Ron and winning the division in the process. Two years later the Panthers would find themselves in the Superbowl.

Now one could argue that the Arkansas team probably just has talented players and would still have a great record with conservative play calling. Never punting with a 17-77 record would surely get you fired. You could also say that 2013 was Cam Newton's third season and the time he finally figured out how to play Quarterback at the NFL level, maybe it's a coincidence. Who knows?

***

Flashback to January of 2009, eight (!!!!!!) years ago. It's a Wednesday, 230pm Eastern Time, so I was probably in my advertising class. Check that. I'll be at my advertising class in five minutes. I was always late. Probably the only thing on my mind was which sorority I was going to invite over to pregame before we went to Crazy Horse (a wine bar) and then Sports (a utopia where Long Island Jews, Frat Guys and athletes hang in peaceful bliss) In the far reaches of my mind I may have been wondering what I was going to do in 5 months. But not really, to consider one's future would be to accept that college was ending.

As the semester went on, I was flown out to all the buzzy corporate jobs I applied for, Target, Kohl's, Proctor and Gamble. I didn't have any idea what I would do at any of those places but I knew I would live downtown in a mid sized city and make $60,000 a year.

I struck out.

But with a last ditch effort, I was able to get into a Kelley (IU Business school) grad program. I figured maybe I could transfer into a JDMBA program eventually and everything would be fine. But instead of making rational life decisions at the age of 22, I continued to sleep until noon in my Senior house, start drinking when I woke up and pretend that the dream wasn't over. Eventually I made half assed attempts at landing jobs in New York and LA before ultimately deciding that I needed to get a job in Chicago so that I could continue to hang out with IU Greeks.

This was a punt.

And it was a shank.

Listen to me when I tell you this, I was offered a job at Kraft, a Fortune 200 company that would have paid for my MBA eventually and I turned them down!!! Why? Because my territory was going to be Kentucky Walmarts and I thought I was above both Kentucky and Walmart.

My dad started his career at Oscar Meyer (now a subsidiary of Kraft) and his best friend that he started off with now splits his time between an Indiana lake house and a beachside condo in Florida.

So I'm in Chicago now and while many of my friends take crap jobs and then parlay them into better jobs I am content to just live in the moment, feeling like something will just be handed to me. But nothing is handed to you in life, except the one time that it was. I was fired for this blog and just so happened to know some guys at a start up that needed to open an LA office.

Moving to LA, people were so impressed. Man, David Moeller, he's really going for it. Chasing his dreams. And while it may have appeared that this was some grand gesture by me trying to grab my future by the horns, it was really more of a bail out pass interference penalty that got me out here. I probably would have never done it on my own. Just like I never did anything on my own.

***

Now it's entirely easy to look at things in the rearview and decide they were a mistake. Alabama probably regrets attempting a 57 yard field goal against Auburn in 2013. They missed, it was returned for a Touchdown and it ended their season.

The Indianapolis Colts probably regret throwing a 4th and 1 screen pass against the Houston Texans a couple weeks ago. The play was a disaster and it ended their season.

And maybe I regret a few decisions i made when I was younger. Had I played it safe, maybe I would be in a better place professionally.  Maybe I wouldn't have been down to my last 7 dollars on Christmas Eve hoping my automatic Netflix bill wouldn't hit my account sending me negative. But I've always been aggressive, I had thought. At least if I went for it and failed, I would always know...well I went for it.

There's this Bill Burr quote I always loved, when I would see photos of people on their wedding day, or going on a vacation I could never afford I would just scream at myself THERE IS A TREMENDOUS AMOUNT OF RISK TO PLAYING IT SAFE. I'm going for it, I'm trying to make my dreams happen...

And then one day it dawned on me. I've been playing it safe all along. The last 7 years I spent largely spinning my tires trying to get somewhere but not really being too frustrated because I had attained social success. Hey, I've got a lot of friends, we have fun on the weekends and if Monday - Thursday suck, at least I've got Friday and Saturday. I was distracted from living my own life by trying to keep the party alive. Hey, I may still be getting writers coffee, but yo we've got that ski trip coming up.

And as Mr. Burr says...there is a tremendous amount of risk to playing it safe.

This year is my 4th and 1. Approaching 30 has given me some perspective. People grow up, you have to leave Neverland eventually, and when it's all over will I be a guy who kinda sorta gave it a shot in LA or will I be the success story that so many people are hoping for?

I'm going to try a few things this year:

First, I'm going to write something every day. Maybe not on here, maybe not a script. Perhaps it will be a haiku on how the Indiana Hoosiers latest loss made me feel.

IU Turnovers

Are extremely depressing

Just like Lala Land*

*only the ending really

**no that's not a clever way to say that LA is depressing, for real the last 3 minutes of the movie

But ya, if accountants can...um account every day, then a 'writer' should be able to write every day.

Second, I'll try to be uplifting or at least real. It's fun to be knock off Tucker Max once in a while, but I've found people respond better when I write from the heart, so this year I'm going to stop pretending to be someone I'm not for the first time in my life, and see how it goes.

Third, I'm going to go for it.

Now that doesn't mean I'm going to leave LA or quit the industry if I can't make something happen this year, but I'm going to really commit to being a better version of myself and do my best. Hopefully that's enough. And if it's not, well I'll know I went for it.

***

Conventional wisdom would say that on a 4th and 1 there will be a run play or even a short 2 yard out pattern. As is such the defense will often load the box with as many defenders as possible.

Now often this play will come down to who has the better offensive line. Grown men competing for 3 feet of real estate. Who wants it more, and a run up the middle or even a QB sneak are not uncommon.

But once in a while....every once in a while, the quarterback will have a trick up his sleeve. While everyone was competing for those three feet at the line of scrimmage, people forgot to worry about the deep out pattern.

Why would they? You only need one yard to gain the first down. But the first down is just an incremental goal right, the ultimate goal is the end zone, and of course it is a much higher risk to chuck the ball down the field that to just dive up the middle.

And going deep doesn't always work. But if on 4th and 1 you just keep doing what you've been doing all along hoping for a different result, well isn't that just playing it safe?

Sometimes you have to switch things up and go for all the marbles.

Happy New Year everyone.

2000 Miles

December was a strange month. At the beginning I was still cashing checks from a rather kush job at the Mindy Project, had two roommates that I had lived with for years and nothing but optimism about the future. In a few short weeks, my job ended, my roommates moved out and I found myself alone watching love actually and drowning in a bottle of whiskey.

I had always threatened to be the guy that didn't go home for Christmas. Why would I? There's nothing left for me in Indianapolis. A couple friends that I may or may not see, but most people got out, are now exploring the world the way I have always wanted to. Christmas at home meant watching It's a Wonderful life on Christmas Eve, opening a few presents Christmas morning and then sitting in the basement for a few days watching screeners by myself while my parents went to work.

Why waste such a glorious vacation on the cold and grey of Indianapolis when I could run away to Europe or South America and go on an adventure? Post photos from exotic locations to let everyone know that 'I'm living my best life!' Watch the comments and likes rolling in as I sipped a cocktail with my new international friends.

The problem was that as I so often do in los angeles, I ran out of money. I had even been hired to write on a pilot (!!!!!) in December. My first writing credit! But unfortunately you cannot go to the Disney Channel and tell them that you need an advance on your paycheck so that you can hop on a flight to Cabo to party for New Year's.

So I sat and drank cheap whiskey, watching every Christmas Movie on Netflix trying to reassure myself that being alone on the holidays wasn't the worst thing in the world.

My mom must have known as such because I received a phone call from my dad the next morning.

'I'm coming to la for Christmas. We're going on a road trip.'

Now if you don't now my father you should understand a few things. He first got a cell phone in 2011. He still has it, it's a flip phone. He absolutely despises travel. He would be perfectly content to come home from work every night and watch old John Wayne movies with the two family cats. So it came as a bit of a shock to me that he was impulsively flying to Venice for a last minute trip, let alone that he would want to do anything other than sit at the beach when he got here.

Apparently my mom had told him she couldn't bare the thought of her two sons being alone on Christmas, so even though she works retail and couldn't possibly get away during the busy season, she dispatched my father to come hang with me for a few days.

I picked my dad up at the airport 8am on Christmas morning where we immediately went to a rental car agency to get a car for the week. They were out of the budget Hyundai Sonata we had reserved so we were generously upgraded us to a 2017 Ford Mustang GT. It's the only time I have ever had a good experience with a car rental. The first stop on the trip was Wickenburg, Arizona. I had never heard of it either, but it just so happens to be a small town outside of Phoenix where my brother is living at the moment, trying to get a few issues straightened out.

I spent Christmas day driving 110 miles per hour east on the I-10 so I could spend an hour hanging out in a Quality Inn Hotel hot tub with my brother. It meant the world to him. I felt guilty scrolling through Twitter and Instagram seeing seemingly every person I have ever met on some wild family vacation in some sunny exotic locale. It made me long for the days driving to Florida for an Iowa bowl game, or ski trips to Tahoe, but I knew at the moment, this was important. This was where I needed to be.

I spent the night of Christmas at a bar called The Mecca. Nearly everyone in there was a tobacco chewing, cowboy hat wearing, Trump supporter. I realized something they also had in common was that they were alone. Whereas I sometimes choose to be alone, they had all come to this local watering hole trying to fill a void in their lives, I had come here because my dad had fallen asleep at 9pm and our hotel bar had closed early. Divorced dads missing their kids, Widows missing their partners, and me...

The next day was a four hour jaunt to Vegas. I dropped the top of the Mustang as we crossed the Hoover Dam and even convinced the front desk guy at our hotel to upgrade our room. He was from Venice. I told him the awol crew sticks together. He agreed and put us in a Penthouse Suite.

There isn't a ton to do in Vegas with your dad if he is not an alcoholic or a degenerate gambler so we had a few beers at the sports book and then did dinner at Todd's English Pub where the beer is always free if you can finish it in 7 seconds or less. (I finished in 6 seconds, Still got it.)

Dad went to bed around 9 again, leaving me hours to wander the Strip and ponder everything going on in my life, those thoughts you can only have while sipping out of an open container on las vegas blvd. Should I have gone to law school? Would I be married and comfortable if I had? Am i doing the right thing by being out here in la? Did I go wrong somewhere, I was always told I had so much potential. Part of me wondered if I should at least try to manufacture an epic night for myself, maybe I could find a girl, leave Vegas with a tale for the ages. Part of me felt lie I should just have a couple of those absurdly fruity drinks that come in the comically tall plastic cups and call it a night, I opted for the later. Maybe I am growing up.

The following morning we opted to drive up to Northern California. Indiana was playing in a bowl game against Utah and I had a long lost cousin that lived in San Jose. My father and I both love college football and it seemed a reasonable enough idea. Eight hours is how long we spent in the car that day. Talking about life, my hopes, his health, the future; things you don't have a chance to discuss when you live 2000 miles from your family. We made it to a little Mexican place in Campbell, CA had a burrito and their famous cocktail 'the Swirl' (6 shots!) before calling it a night.

The game was the following day. I spent it wandering the parking lot of levi's stadium drinking beer out of a Coors 12 pack and saying hello to fellow Hoosiers fans. I met legend Antwaan Randle-El and somehow my dad scored us some club level seats for free. The Hoosiers lost, but it didn't really matter. We met a lot of nice people and then spent the night at my cousins house telling stories from years past.

The 5 hours back to la the following day it sunk in to me that I had never really spent this much time with my dad before, at least not one on one. I had never thought we really shared that much in common. We butted heads a lot when I was younger. He grew up in a town of just over 500 and I never thought he understood me. He's a sales guy, unafraid of chatting with anyone. I tend to not enjoy talking to strangers. He's a homebody, I want to explore and while it was always very important for him to get married and have a family, I have always been much more independent. But when you're in a car with somebody for that long, you start to hear stories you didn't know; The summer dad rented a house in Colorado, the times he used to come to la for the Rose Bowl and spend hours playing foosball in Hermosa Beach at the Poop Deck, the times he would show up in Vegas without a hotel reservation and just 'see what happens.' Perhaps we weren't that different after all.

But what I always did know is that he would do anything for me. Without my dad, I wouldn't be able to survive in los angeles. I support myself for the most part, but if say I got hit by a car tomorrow and my health insurance didn't cover it a, I would be toast. I have a support system, I have people that love me. I have people that will drop everything and come to la on the off chance I'm feeling lonely.

As I've grown older I see a lot of friends losing loved ones and I can't imagine how gut wrenching it is. Sure it's a part of life, but I'm sure there is a part of you that is never ready. I'm extremely thankful for a week of memories I was able to make with my dad. I'll not soon forget our 2000 miles in a Mustang. I'll never forget Christmas in Wickenburg with my brother. I'll never forget betting the over in the Planet Hollywood sports book and celebrating with rowdy Detroit fans in the midst of their 5 day bender.

If you would have asked me if an impromptu Southwestern road trip was the Christmas Break I wanted, I would have probably told you no. What about Cuba or Australia or some other bucket list item? I mean San Jose isn't really the mecca of tourism right? 2000 miles could have gotten me to Mexico City or Hawaii or even Chicago!

But in the end, it was the trip I needed. Family is important. Making memories is important and it serves as a reminder that any time I get a little low on myself I need to remember there are people out there willing to fight for me. I enter 2017 with a lot of uncertainty. I'm about to turn 30. I don't have a job and I'm not quite sure what the future holds. I certainly don't have all the answers as I try to make it work for myself out here.

But what I do know is that there are a lot of people on my team. And that counts for something.

How to save the frats

I think it's time to acknowledge a problem with the United States Greek system, an institution near and dear to my heart.

I had a good time in my fraternity at Indiana. I still hang out with a large majority of the guys from my house in college, I have lived with one for the past five years. On Friday, I hosted my annual fifth exchange a, tradition I picked up at my fraternity chapter in college. For the uninitiated, the fifth exchange behaves as a 'secret santa' but instead of traditional gifts we exchange bottles of alcohol and proceed to get very, very drunk.

Sure it's a bit sophomoric for friends approaching 30 to celebrate the holidays by blacking out in absurd Christmas sweaters reminiscing about good times past, but as you get older you understand the importance of tradition. When guys get married, have kids and move away, it becomes much more difficult to get the gang back together and catch up.

Saturday I woke up with a headache around noon and began scrolling through some news stories, a very important part of my hangover routine on the weekends. One caught my eye "Tufts University Suspends Fraternity Activities."

I cringed, as I do when I see any of these stories. Something very bad must have happened. Alcohol poisoning, an accusation of sexual assault or worse, a hazing related death. It turned out that a former pledge had written an op-ed in the school paper proposing the abolition of fraternities. During a 'stripper night' the author claimed he had been forced to watch strippers do...well stripper things.

Instead of punishing the aforementioned fraternity in question, Tufts University decided instead to cease all fraternity activities effective immediately. Now, I do not have all of the facts so I will not pass judgement on the accuser or the fraternity but at face value it does seem to be a bit of an overreaction.

Now I do not know if Ben kesslen, the author of 'Abolish Fraternities' ever truly felt unsafe during a stripper night. I know that my fraternity had a stripper night and I was free to leave at any time. I know that as a pledge I was forced to clean, drive and do push-ups, but I was free to leave at any time. I suppose if I ever felt truly unwanted I would have left and then gone on living my life.

A quick Google search will show that nearly a dozen fraternities have been suspended in the past month for the usual infractions: offensive emails, offensive parties, displaying affection for Donald Trump, hazing allegations, drinking too much, mistreatment of women. It seems in this more sensitive political environment fraternities no longer have a home.

But notice that the suspension of chapters has done little to nothing to correct the problem. Anecdotally I can tell you that a certain chapter at my school tried to murder someone with a stop sign, aggressively sold cocaine, videotaped themselves banging strippers and yet; they were still the coolest guys on campus, just banished to some giant off campus houses that were under even less supervision.

No, the way to fix the problem with the American fraternity is to take away the ability of the dickheads to fuck hot chicks.

RECORD SCRATCH.

But this was a well reasoned article written earnestly about something the author really cares about and you just threw it all away with that last sentence.

Ya well now it's a satire piece. You good? If not, here's a safe space. Is Disney that safe? I dunno, it's just the site thehun.com used to send me to if I accidentally said I was under 18.

Now, without further ado, my plan to save the frats...

To begin my story we are going to turn to the small country of Wales! Home to Sir Anthony Hopkins, Rogue One Director Gareth Evans and of course Swansea City FC.

For those that do not follow British football, Swansea City is a club that plays in the English Premier league, the only non-English team to do so. If you are unfamiliar with the English Premier league, the American equivalent would be something like major league baseball...and Swansea has long been a middle of the road team, mid market lie say the San Diego Padres.

Now in American sports if you suck balls for a season, nothing bad really happens. Your attendance may drop a bit, but nothing drastic. In fact some teams even use it as strategy to acquire a higher draft pick, this would be called tanking. However, in the Premiership and most of European soccer there is something called 'relegation and promotion' which punishes clubs in the bottom of a league and rewards others at the top.

An American example would be saying that the San Diego Padres have the worst record in major league baseball so they are booted to AAA.

Now let's get back to our friends at Swansea. in 2015, Swansea finished in the middle of the table (British for standings) and that same year, The Mirror, a British publication, ballparked their valuation as a team at 180 million pounds. That included tv deals, endorsements and ticket revenue among other things.

Flash forward to December 2016, Swansea is currently in 18th place (out of 20) in the English Premier league with 18, 19 and 20 getting relegated to the Football Championship, the next tier lower on the British ladder (AAA)

Now obviously this would be shitty for them. No one wants to go from playing in the top league to a worse league. But furthermore it impacts their bottom line aggressively. The Guardian, ran a piece saying that a club can lose up to 60 million pounds to relegation. Again, attendance is likely to drop, and some endorsements will go away but the big money is in the TV deal. How often do you see your local minor league baseball team on ESPN, not a lot, right?

Now there are parachute payments to ease the burden, but these run out eventually and according to my crude math, it appears that an eventual 60 million hit to Swansea would equate to roughly a third of Swansea's valuation.

Now let's leave our Welsh friends alone for a while and talk about frats.

People join frats for a variety of reasons: friendship, networking connections, place to live and party, athletics...but the number one reason is to have sex with hot chicks.

As difficult as it may be to read that sentence, the majority of the well off, cute, popular girls end up in sororities and the easiest way to access them is to join a fraternity.

But not just any fraternity; a top tier fraternity.

Similar to sports divisions, fraternities have an unofficial ranking structure: top tier and bottom tier. Sometimes top, middle and bottom tier. And just like the Indianapolis Indians don't play against the Chicago Cubs, Chi Phi doesn't pair with Tri Delt for parties.

Now here is where things are going to get a little weird...what if, for the sake of argument, we went ahead and made these tiers official:
Top tier frats were only allowed to pair with top tier sororities.
Bottom tier frats were only allowed to pair with bottom tier sororities.

Violation of these rules would automatically send you to the bottom of your tier.

Now it seems crass to categorize someone by a 'tier' right? But how are Greek houses ranked now? GPA? Campus involvement? Intramural success?

And of course how attractive and awesome you are.

But there ARE objective numbers we already use. There are some anomalies, but for the most part, that IS a good representation of the IU fraternities ranked socially.

People are competitive by nature, no one wants to be at the bottom, so what if instead of 'suspending fraternities and sororities' we rather knocked them down a division for their crimes.

Hazing allegations? That will hurt you.
Offensive party? You lose points.
Cyber bullying? Relegation is looming.
Alcohol abuse/inappropriate treatment of women/cheating scandal/etc. etc. etc.

You're fucked.

At the end of every semester, the bottom three top tier frats are relegated to the 'bottom tier.'

Now if we return to our soccer example, remember this cost our Swansea friends 33% of their value!

Fraternities might not have a monetary value per se, so let's call it social influence. Obviously you can't ban individual sorority members from hanging out with individual fraternity members, but one must wonder, would they want to if said frat boy had lost a third of his social influence?

Maybe.

Maybe not.

Is Pi kappa Phi still cool if it can ony invite a bottom tier house to their swampwater party?
Is ATO still top dog if they can't take Chi O on boats?

To take a moment to focus on the sororities, would there be as many diversity scandals with 'bottom tier' looming. Could it hep eliminate transphobia among the panhellenic council?

Maybe.

Maybe not.

But along with discouraging bad behavior, a system of relegation and promotion encourages GOOD behavior.

Jumping back to our baseball example...if we banish the Padres to AAA, someone has take their spot in mlb. For kicks let's use my beloved AAA Indianapolis Indians. If they were to go on a heater and finish in the top 3 of AAA they could be promoted to the show. I'm mixing metaphors here, but the reward for promotion in the epl (we're at soccer now, keep up) is about 100 million pounds, this could triple the value of a smaller lower division team.

The Greek example here is we go back to Chi Phi a middle of the road oft forgotten frat. They put up a good GPA one semester, get involved on campus, win a couple intramural events and treat their fellow students with respect, a promotion could triple their social influence.

Now are the Pi Phis automatically going to want to bang the Chi Phi dudes, maybe not, but the exposure wouldn't hurt. loo at the nfl's Rooney rule. Maybe a top-tier sorority girl will realize that they think guys that aspire to be high achievers and not just do drugs and scream racial slurs are pretty cool!

It certainly isn't a perfect solution but it might be better than just pushing the cool kids underground for 18 months every time they fuck up. At the very least I don't see anything wrong with starting a conversation about punishing people that do wrong and rewarding people that do good. If it takes gameifying the frat structure to save it, then by all means let's try it.

And as for the frat guys out there, I know you aren't a fucktards, rapists and sociopaths.

I know that Arabian Nights Parties are fun, I know that Pimps and Hoes is a great theme, I think hazing made me a better person too, but just knock that shit off for 4 years so the rest of your life you can remember college fondly as opposed to what could have been.