Bloody Sunday

With respects to U2

Love-filled shows on TV all week.
Valentine's can make it hard to sleep.
Should I text or should I call?
Should I put a post up?
A post up on her Facebook wall?

Sunday, Bloody Sunday...

is Valentine's Day. And my Valentine's Day gift to you, close friends and random internet people, is something very rare: my personal life.

Easy! Now I'm not saying MGH is going Redtube or anything, but one of my resolutions for this blog in 2010 was to get a little more in-depth, a little more personal, in hopes of becoming a better writer. And what better opportunity to open up a bit of one's heart than the heartiest (?) of holidays.

I suppose this is my first year in Cali that I've really given much thought to ole' Feb 14. Back in 2008 I was so caught up in being in LA and USC that I barely noticed the day of days or thought about anything besides making movies, and on V-Day a bunch of my (then new) friends and I went to some anti-Valentine's Day bar party and got really boozed up and could barely remember where I lived, let alone what day it was.

And last year I was in crazy production mode again for the documentary. And in 2009 I was fortunate to actually have some company of a romantic persuasion and wasn't particularly worried about the hated Hallmark holiday.

But, alas, it seems this year its been pretty inescapable. All my favorite TV comedies had Valentine's-themed shows this week. I've got a good number of friends in relationships, some of them even MARRIED, and there's no crazy production schedule to keep my mind off of things. In fact, since this is kind of my big writing semester, I've been spending even more time than usual in my own head; which is a terrible place to be this time of year.

Now I don't want to get too much into the specifics of what kind of relationships I've had over the last few years, mostly because I'm a more of the traditional gentleman's mindset, which is to say a gentleman never kisses and tells (unless he's had a lot of whiskey and something crazy/sick/amazing happened).

I'm also just not as good when it comes to describing things of an intimate nature, and usually end up using a ridiculously over-complicated baseball euphemism in terms of the play-by-play of how an evening went down. Like the time I was out with a girl and I thought I had an easy home run or at least a base hit but got burned on an ugly check swing that was ruled strike three by the first base umpire.

What does that even mean?

In any case, if you couldn't tell, I've had a bit of birds on the brain lately. Part of that was the fact that in Sundance, almost every f'ckin movie was about some relationship gone south. Throw in the fact that in the past weeks and months I've been drinking with a few recently single (re: heartbroken) people and you've got yourself a cauldron of commiseration.

Now, I will say that my movie-mindedness puts me down a different path than the average guy on the street. Many a weekend have passed where I've had late nights ... working on set. Or spent an intimate evening ...with Avid editing software. Needless to say, filmmaking is a very time and energy consuming endeavor and, even when the cameras are away and I'm out celebrating a wrapped shoot, I'm usually more inclined to relax and drink with my friends than go five rounds of clever conversation with a table of pretty girls and THEN find out they all have boyfriends.

But 2010 is a big year, a year I expect to be different, and one I'd really like to get as much out of as possible, and part of that is going to be continuing to play the field. (Dating field, not the baseball field, I'm trying to cut down on the sex-baseball analogies)

At least I'm not bitter, or not too bitter, yet. I've had the pleasure of knowing some really nice girls on my 25 years on this earth and I try to remember the bright side of things and not get hung up if things ended poorly. Course, there's also the handful of girls that I probably didn't treat so well and any heartbreak that comes my way may still be a little deserved.

I have realized that being single is still pretty fun, something to be cherished while I'm still young and all that. But the mind doth wander into Relationshipsville from time to time, because, being the sucker and romantic that I am, I do believe there's at least one other person out there that can bring nine innings of happiness. I'm not sure who that is for me, but I could give you one idea about where this mystery Ms. Right may hail from, and it ain't Los Angeles. Most likely a Midwestern city...something bigger than St. Louis or Milwaukee, a place with a lot of sports teams, and maybe its on a lake. Who knows?

Anyway, I'd better put the brakes on this love train before it heads straight into Schmaltzilvania. But I'm not going to leave you, my bartender-position assuming readers whose ears I have bended, without a little token of my feelings for you:





"You...Choo-choo-choose me?"

One of my favorite episodes, and just what the doctor ordered for any achy-breaky hearts.

-"Mr. Simpson, the tar fumes are making me nauseous.."
-"Yeah, they'll do that."

Hope everyone was able to stomach this sample-sized portion of my inner-type thoughts that usually stay cozily nestled behind a very thick wall of quips, quotes, laughs and jokes.

Next post I promise I'll be back to my L.A.-hating, Chicago-worshiping, Cub-obsessed, whiskey-drinking, cigar-chomping regularly scheduled programming.

And as a parting gift here's a little SONG to go to all you lovers out there!

HAPPY VALENTINE'S!