Nothing else I've ever done has been as exciting as writing and producing -- and I've only done it on a small, small scale. I dream about what it's like to do it full bore, on a big production or series.

Charging into buildings to save children, rough-riding in an AirCav Blackhawk, speaking to a room full of hundreds of people, it pales along side the act of creation and the force of producing a film. Sounds silly, doesn't it? Nothing I've found in life matches the 110%, 100% of the time required to get one of the these babies in the can.

Well, maybe sex. But only really, really, really good sex. And that's fraking rare.

But with the rest of the world still out there, an interesting place no doubt, am I cheating myself out of something by hanging in here when nothing, and I mean nothing, is happening on my career front?

I've asked this before, even made a short film about it -- twice when I think about it -- but when does dedication become obsession? When does desire close you off to the other possibilities of life?

If I was to land a job Upstate, make enough money to live, and create one of those 20-year careers, is that a better thing to pursue than staying here "In Los Angeles," waiting for something that may never come? At this point, I'm not certain of what more is in my control in order to make things happen and what is more or less dependant on others, with access or money, in order for me to achieve what I want.

Yeah, I know. No answers... or only provisional answers... and endlessly ponderable questions.