I am going to write a screenplay.

“Want to get ahead today? Forget what your parents told you. Instead, do something foreigners can’t do cheaper. Something computers can’t do faster. And something that fills one of the nonmaterial, transcendent desires of an abundant age” (Daniel H. Pink, pg X331).

Ever since I saw Superbad, I have remained convinced that I could write a successful screenplay. Nothing in the movie shocked me. I come from an all-boy high school—school life existed devoid of the inhibiting factor that is estrogen. More than anything else though, Superbad afforded me the opportunity to be my own third party perspective—to see on screen what my high school life was like. I won’t call it a profound sense of humor because that is not what I think I possess—more like an absolute degradation and defilement of what most would deem appropriate, and thus something that entertains when turned into film. Upon venturing into this realm of right brain versus left, the roots of my interest in the realm of filmmaking and screenplay writing grow deeper indeed.

My dad and I have conversed often about what I want to do after school, about what kind of career I would be interested in. I have no idea. He tells me I could be good at the practice of law. I have very little knowledge of what the “practice of law” entails, nor do I have a shred of interest in learning of the subject currently. He then tells me I am not allowed to live at home once I graduate from college. I have an interest in law.


The Scales of Justice: where is the fun in this picture?

Facetiousness aside, I could see myself attending law school and practicing it at some point in the future. Despite whatever level of enjoyment I could squeeze from so pragmatic a profession, where is the fun or the excitement or the adventure in reciting over and over again, “I am a lawyer.” A history teacher of mine from 11th grade once announced to our class, “Do what you love. Screw the rest.” Intrinsically paradigmatic with a lot of American society, this aphorism is the cause of my hesitance when the question is begged, “What are your ideas for a potential career?” These are the times when I think about that screenplay.

I have some great ideas for what I would put in it. As Covey writes, “your powerful right brain capacity can be a great help to you on a daily basis as you work to integrate your personal mission statement into your life. It’s another application of begin with the end in mind (132).” Fragments upon fragments of scenes, character exchanges, monologues, and plot lines appear in my head on a daily basis. The right side of my brain has envisioned enough of these fragments to write a film in its entirety. At some point I am going to have to do some left-brain work and put these bastards together. The end is indeed in mind, but the process is nowhere to be found.

After watching “Web 2.0,” I am inclined to think that a computer can help me put together my scenes (after I write them, of course). But even then, it is not that easy. I have a serious gripe with the makers of that video. It is sensationalist and attempts to promote a possibility that is still years down the line. Outside of communication and entertainment, computers and the web as a whole are nowhere near fully integrated, half-human robots that play catchy, new age beats in the background.

"Web 2.0" reminds me of this song:






Stephen Ehrmann says, “When [electronic] portfolios are used in [a helpful] way, the doorway to rapid, intentional evolution of liberal education opens” (328A). Does this “rapid evolution” mean that the left-brain tasks are going to be supplemented by computers? Exactly, so where is my screenplay? I need to get to Habit 3 first.