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I think the reason humanity has become so divided is because we’ve never fought anyone but other humans.

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Characters from my novel The Human Art of Film

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Eye to Eye

Children of peace, children of war. Do they see eye to eye? Or perhaps, children of pain, and children of bliss. Do they see eye to eye? Not eye to eye, like to look into one's sight, and think, I wonder what kind of life lies behind. But eye to eye like looking into one's mind, and think the words that bleed from your heart reach into mine. That despair would vanquish, and the pain would hide, if I choose to cross the other side. But that notion still divides, creates a fictitious line, that separates you and I, and left us all to our wandering thoughts, thinking what kind of life does he live like. So, I wonder, past broken lines, and rugged ties. Do children of war and children of peace ever see eye to eye?

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Tree of Fiction

No matter how high the tree of fiction goes, its roots will always be grounded in reality. That's what makes it a great tree.

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Dear Tumblr,

I’m thrilled to announce that your boy’s new book, The Human Art of Film, is now available! If you love film and writing, this is for you. It’s been an amazing journey writing it, and I can’t wait for you all to read it. You can find it on Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0D72RS7P7?ref=cm_sw_r_apin_dp_JH1BK16REKSER8WQBQ7S&ref_=cm_sw_r_apin_dp_JH1BK16REKSER8WQBQ7S&social_share=cm_sw_r_apin_dp_JH1BK16REKSER8WQBQ7S&language=en-US&skipTwisterOG=2. Thanks for all the support!

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A Message From Richard Quinn

I'm sorry. I loved you but I never knew what my love would do to you. I wanted to become an angel who would protect you from the demons, but I became a devil who dragged you away from the angels. I loved you too much to see that we weren't meant to be together. You would never love me... I always knew that, but I didn't want to see it. I filled my head with delusions of us... everything we could've been, but what's the point of loving a flower when it's cut from a stem. What's the point of nurturing a seed in a barren land without food or water to survive? So, forgive me for my fantasies. For if God thought them, it would be destiny, but once I thought it, it would be foreboding. Now, I realize that even in this world, filled with the heavens and hells ravaging against one another, I'm a simple curse fleeting by, and my weapon, love. I'm sorry for not realizing that an angel surrounded by devils is bound to fall. - Richard Quinn.

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Acting

The only actor that can keep acting forever is one who acts himself. They'll eventually come a time when you'll have to stop pretending. Make that time sooner than later. - Andrea Marie

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Expectations

Expectations are not meant to pressure you, my dear. They are your motivation, your ally. They're the reason you keeping moving when it's dark, your light in a cave. And the rest of them… They are like you. They will mistake and you will make mistakes. But eventually all of you will smile at your accomplishments. - David Maxwell

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Film

The truth I'm trying to preach is that filmmakers are judged by their final product. It doesn't even matter if it took us three months or three years, they only respect the final product. So, forget everything about the people outside. Never have a single ounce of respect for anyone that doesn't have respect for your passion. - David Maxwell

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Tragedy

They said Icarus was a tragedy, but Icarus died doing what he wanted. They said Hamlet was a tragedy, but Hamlet achieved his goals. He died for his goals. Maybe these are tragedies because we look at them with foggy glasses, look at success and failures, and forget that what’s between them is working to achieve your goals no matter the outcome. The tragedy isn’t the characters, it’s us- a failed society

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Art is a big drug

Art. A colossal drug, a glittering oasis in the wasteland of the ordinary. We, the creators, grasp at the wisp of colors and emotions, yearning to weave them into tapestries of meaning. In our hands, the power to sculpt words, breathe life into phantoms. A God's purview, some might say. It's intoxicating, isn't it?

Driven by a relentless urge, an insatiable hunger to breach the boundaries of the formless, we craft narratives in the dead of night.

But the tools feel heavy in our hands, the muse of ability plays hide-and-seek, and the results… sometimes they fall flat. A a stark reminder of the limitations that bind us.

Perhaps this is the true artist's curse, wouldn't you agree? To teeter on the edge of creation and desolation, forever yearning, forever falling short. That the drug of art is so potent indeed that not reconciliation from others can mend it to be liveable, and the only snap that brings to reality... is our own inability to create beautiful art.

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DUMB AND DUMBER

They say the world is getting dumber. But perhaps, it's the definition of intelligence that's shifting like sand in an hourglass. Before, it was the sharp mind, the one that could dissect problems and weave together solutions. Now, it's the dazzling display, the one that shouts the loudest and grabs the most attention. People don’t view intelligence. They view impressibility. If people don’t view something as impressive or challenging, then that can’t possibly live up to the title “intelligent.”

Is a cog in the machine any less intelligent because it turns silently, unseen? Is a quiet mind, contemplating the world, any less valuable than the one screaming its ideas from the rooftops?

We chase after impressiveness, these flashy metrics, these "World Improvement Points." But true progress, perhaps, happens in the quiet hum of steady work, in the connections made beneath the surface.

Maybe, just maybe, the most impressive thing of all is the quiet, unassuming intelligence that keeps the world turning, even if it goes entirely unnoticed.

— Navier Corbett

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Opportunity

If my life were a movie, it would go a little something like this: I would wake up bright and early in the morning and grab myself a good cup of tea — none of that bitter coffee stuff the world’s obsessed with. I would then sit on my couch for hours, pondering on long thoughts I had in my brain before I went to sleep last night, only to realize that what I was doing is a complete waste of time. I’d get dressed in something fancy, only to realize I only own suits. I’d open my garage, only to realize I have no car. And so… I’d bike to work. Make it to the office at precisely 8:59 and walk into the lounge to make myself another cup of tea. I’d shut myself inside my office and not come out until I’d had enough of the filthy mob of children in my room.

And then, it’d be over. Yup, that’s it. Nothing else to see except the slow credits because, you see, if my life was a movie, it would be anything, but a movie. But that’s perfectly fine. I’m happy waking up to a soundless apartment every day, wasting hours upon hours in a mindless state of dysfunction, going to work over and over again, and listening to the same complaints on repeat. As the days came, I found comfort in routine–

Oh, who am I kidding? There is no excitement in repetition. Doing the same thing every day, every hour, every minute, every second, has driven me nuts. Every time I wake up, I tell myself that today will be a day — the day something changes and my life turns into an adventure. Yet it never happens. I tried telling my neighbor about this, but to be nice, her advice was as useful as talking to a recycling bin. I told my therapist about this, but he, too, was nothing useful. Everywhere I went, it seemed like everyone told me the same thing: “There’s nothing wrong with being boring.”

There’s everything wrong with being boring. I’d rather be a lunatic high-school drop-out and live the life of my dreams, than a sober, wise man whose heart has never reached past 120 BPM. And if no one is going to help me do that, I’ll do it myself.

– OPPORTUNITY, written by akie

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Dear Tumblr

A friend recommended you to me and I have trusted that friend with many things before. So, you have high expectations. Don't let me down. I've seen videos about you and I gotta say, you're pretty funny. You're like that high school freshman who is actually fun to hang around and not any of those blueberry-ice-flavored funk-pops that I keep seeing every day. Anyway, Tumblr. I think you're going to be my new addiction.