Green Grass and High Tides

As the faithful that read this here blog might recall, I wasn't exactly the poster child for a positive outlook on life a few months back.  I was lamenting my wasted youth, or some bullshit like that.  Which, really, in the grand scheme, is akin to complaining about having to pay 10¢ a litre more to put premium gasoline in your BMW.  Sure, it's an extra $5 dollars per tank, but you drive a frickin' lazy boy on wheels.  Some people's houses aren't even that nice.  Some people don't even have houses.

I'm not a very self-important person. I'm definitely not an "I'll step over who ever I need to, to get what I feel entitled to" kind of guy (sorry, Gordon Gekko).  As such, anytime I enter into a bit of self-loathing like that, I immediately feel guilty about it.  And yes, the irony of that is not lost on me.  I have so much, therefore I feel bad when I long for more.

But the problem is that the grass is always greener.  Or at least it always seems to be.  I mean, why shouldn't I be happy with what I've got?  I should be.  But really, is anyone ever 100% satisfied with their life?  Look at Tiger Woods.  A billion dollars in the bank, a Swedish supermodel for a wife.  Arguably the greatest golfer to ever step foot on this planet.  What more could a guy like that want?  Besides a few prostitutes.

The greatest player ever.  Not the greatest speech ever.

Look at Michael Jordan.  Same thing.  Considered by many to be the greatest player to ever lace up a pair of basketball sneakers.  But he was never happy.  And you might argue that never being satisfied was the reason he was so great.  And you might be right.  Because he was great.  But never happy. When you or I look at it from the outside, we think: how can you be Michael Jordan and still not be happy?  But just look at his Hall of Fame speech.  That epic twenty minutes probably gave you more insight into who Michael Jordan really is than any footage of him bouncing a basketball ever could.  And it was not pretty.  He turned a celebration of his career and achievements into a petty roasting of all those that 'wronged' him over the years.  During the broadcast they cut to a shot of Michael's high school coach just shaking his head in disbelief as MJ was digging into him, unable to understand what was happening or why.  Did Michael really buy him a $1000 ticket to the event just to be sure he was present as he aired his grievences?   John Stockton looked like a deer in the headlights as MJ laced into his old teammate Bryon Russell.  And considering Michael got the best of Bryon every single time they faced off, it seems odd that he would still hold such ill-will against him all these years later.  And it's because even now, even as he's been crowned the greatest there ever was, and perhaps ever will be, he's not happy.  I don't know where he thinks the greener grass is, but he's still looking for it.

Michael Jordan was never happy, Tiger Woods was never satisfied (pardon the double entendre...) Bill Gates?  Probably not either.  It wouldn't surprise me if Bill wakes up every morning and fires any staff member that's eating an apple for lunch.  He has everything, yet that one little fruit is still a torn in his side.  Insignificant as it is to his mighty empire, chances are he just can't look past it.  Can you name 3 more successful people by conventional standards?  And I'm not saying they're miserable (well, except for Tiger... right now) but they're never 100% happy with their life.  So how can I ever hope to be?

But Travis you say, those people are only considered successful financially and/or athletically.  There's far more to life than those hollow pursuits, and there's far better criteria with which to judge success.  And I agree.  A happy, healthy home is worth far more in the scheme of things than a multimillion dollar pay cheque.  But the grass is still always greener.  I love my family.  I love my friends.  I love my job, and my apartment, and my hobbies.  I love my life.  I truly do.  But it's cold here in the winter.  My job gets repetitive.  I don't drive a BMW.  There's always greener grass, and it's not all unattainable pipe dreams either.  Why couldn't I live in Hawaii?  Why couldn't I be editing the latest Will Ferrel movie instead of the same Capital EX orientation video that I've done 7 times.  Why couldn't I pick up a 2001 BMW for ten grand?

For sale right now.  $8000.

Well, just because the grass is greener, doesn't mean that it's better.  Sure, I'd never be cold living in Hawaii, but I'd have to make all new friends and see my family less than twice a year.  Sure, I'd feel more important editing a Hollywood movie, but I might be working 12 hour days, 7 days a week.  Right now I do 9 to 5 Monday through Friday.  With people I like.  And sure, my Cavalier might not be the sexiest car on the road, but it doesn't cost me three times as much to change the oil or brakes.  And that money I save lets me go to Hawaii when it gets cold.  Or Europe when I get bored.

And I like it when I'm feeling this way.  I like when even though I don't feel totally satisfied with life, I'm at least thankful for what I do have, and aware of the fact that what I don't have isn't always what I really need.  And that no one ever feels totally satisfied, and even when you have everything, you still look for more.  So, even though in some ways I feel like my life's in a bit of a rut these days, in other ways I feel like so far this might be one of the best starts to a year that I can remember. 

I know.  You wish I'd just write funny stuff in this blog.  You just want to be entertained, not bored when you come here.  But all I can do is write what's on my mind, and this was on my mind.  If you don't like it, hey, the grass is always greener on someone else's blog...

A long post about a Short Way

I hate to think that this blog is just a bunch of stuff that I write for Randy, because really, that's a little gay.  According to my 'followers' though, it's 67% women, so I'll just remind myself of that...

Especially when I do something like this: and basically just ask Randy what he wants me to write about.  Yes, I cater to him that much.

So what did he want me to talk about?  Well, him.  Of course.

For those of you unfamiliar with the major bullet points of my life, a few years back Randy and I worked on a little project together called The Short Way 'Cross.  In it's essence, it was simply us taking our love of Ewan and Charley's The Long Way Round a bit too far.  We rolled cameras on it, but I think even at the time, our expectations were pretty low.  We figured it would be closer to a video travel journal than a documentary.

Then a funny thing happened.  We loved it.  Not that we didn't expect to love the actual trip, but more so that we were surprized when the resulting footage ended up being an engaging and entertaining little story.  Or so we thought. 

A funny thing happens when something that you had low expectations of exceeds them in every conceivable way.  Suddenly we had something epic on our hands.  Everyone needed to see it.  We had to share our gift with the world.  We sent it to Ewan and Charley, we submitted it to the local film festival, hell, we even threw a gala screening for our friends and family.  Granted, our friends and family responded quite favorably, but really, they had to right?  The film festival?  Not so much.  Ewan and Charley?  Not at all.

The Gala

And I'd be lying if I said I wasn't a little crushed.  But, having had time to come to terms with the mere possibility that I am not universally loved and adored, perspective has been gained.  You see, if the film festival had heard about us making this video, they probably would have thought: 'that's going to suck.'  Then when they saw it, they might have been like: 'wait, that didn't suck, it was actually kind of good.'  But by having no low expectation to exceed, it stands to reason that on it's own, simply 'kind of good' didn't rock their world.  Ewan and Charley however, they have no excuse.

Which brings us to the Short Way Up (and to the left).  During the height of 'this is actually pretty good' hysteria, the inevitable sequel talk arose.  Bigger?  Of course.  Better?  Naturally.  Now... I'm not so sure.  Not about a sequel.  Just not about having to do everything to one-up the original.  Perspective.  On the 2 year anniversary of our original adventure, Randy and I sat down and watched it again.  And the experience couldn't have been more enjoyable.  We remembered the good times, laughed at all the jokes we had forgotten, and, had a hidden camera been locked on us the entire time, I can imagine that both of us would have had a stupid grin plastered across our face for the entire 52 minutes.

And that to me is what Short Way is all about.  It's not about perfect sound quality, wireless microphones, 16x9 widescreen, or high definition.  And it's certainly not about the disappointment I felt when I opened the rejection letter from the film festival.  Or when I didn't receive a letter from Ewan or Charley at all.  It's not about the approval of others.  Short Way is about that stupid grin on my face for 52 minutes.  And I wouldn't have Up (and to the left) any other way.