It is hard to believe but the first edition of Life In Perpetual Beta is almost complete, and yes, I am just as surprised as you are that I have actually managed to get this far. Who would have thunk that a year ago a woman with no experience, no connections, and no idea what she was doing would be in the final stages of wrapping up a documentary film? I did not even think it was going to happen, yet, here I am, writing this blog post, answering emails from distribution companies and scheduling screenings at conferences, and I could not have done it without you.
I have my hands in so many projects, I never know what to put on these things. I”m pretty sure this is the dilemma of most modern day entrepreneurs – too many plates to spin, not enough room to spin them. I tried to use Occum’’s razor to pair down what I do, cut out most of the businesses that were still ideas and not actually producing anything yet. I also cut out anything I identified myself with that I haven”t currently done in over a year (thus the title Life Coach fell away) I thought Filmmaker was a given, but then… Risktaker and Cakebaker? While both are true, they are total cop-outs, I put them there because they rhymed with filmmaker. Business Cards are just too small these days to convey all that I am doing, although I don”t seem to have any problem crowding in the nonsense. Does this happen to you too?
(also – does your wordpress theme continuously add extra apostrophes”””””” when you update a post too?)
When I was 14, my dad was sent to fight someone else’’s war. Saddam Husein’’s army had invaded Kuwait and the US military had acted swiftly and decisively to protect Kuwait with “Operation Desert Shield” which in turn became “Operation Desert Storm” and my father fought the storm on the front lines. My parents broke it to us kids by surprising us after school with stories of The Christmas Bunny, a confused rabbit that hid Christmas gifts for us throughout the house. As soon as we could shrug off our backpacks we were tearing through our house in search of misplaced Christmas gifts. My six foot four father pranced around the living room extolling the virtues of the Christmas bunny in a falsetto voice, while my mother, calmly, and with no hint of emotion in her voice, told us that my father was shipping out in a few short weeks, that he wouldn”t be home for the holidays.
I would like to tell you that at 14, my heart broke upon hearing the news, I would like to tell you that I was not so self absorbed in my teenage fog that it consciously registered that my father was going off to risk his life for total strangers, but I can”t.
