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As much as I enjoy post-production, automatic dialogue replacement never ceases to be a pain in the ass. For those who don't know, ADR (or looping as it's also commonly called) is when you play a brief bit of video from your film on a loop as an actor sits in front of the microphone and tries to re-record the dialogue they said on-set, doing their best to sync up their words with the video. My team and I really tried to cut back on how much of it we would need this time around, but wind and shoddy mic placement still screwed up a number of shots and I've found myself once again stuck in a dank computer room listening to actors repeating the same line over and over and over...

It's a special pleasure when the line in question is one or two words long. Never in my life have I heard more subtle variations on the phrase, "No, but--" I can only imagine how much fun the actor is having, so I have to learn to enjoy this process or I'll end up with an XLR cable stabbed in my eye after one too many testy sighs.

The high maintenance actor I mentioned before had one line screwed up, so to preserve my sanity I've made the uncommon choice to willingly ADR all of his lines with an entirely different actor, just so I don't have to ever be in a dank computer room with him, ever. This might sound like a sketchy proposition, but not only is it legal under the terms of the contract he signed, he's also completely oblivious to the world around him and won't ever notice. If anything, it makes him look like a better actor, so I'm really doing him a favour. Forgive me, casting directors.

I'm looking forward to summer. I seem to be the only person I know who will be genuinely happy to see his entire family -- most people have some kind of familial issues that make them dread summer, apparently, or are at the very least apathetic. My family is pretty badass for the most part; okay, maybe there's some people I should be less than fond of (drug-addict cousin who steals money from me being one), but I'm honestly pretty hard to piss off. I get along well with everyone and I'll be glad to see them.

I have a very casual relationship with my immediate family members. My former roommate (the one mentioned here), back before he hated me, used to stop what he was doing and listen in anytime I talked to my mom on the phone. He thought it was really funny, and apparently that's a view shared by quite a few friends and other roommates I've had. To me it always seemed a bit absurd, but I understand what's funny about it -- so many people have parents (or think they have parents) who they can't talk to on an honest level. I make jokes with my mom, I give advice to my mom, and she gives advice in turn; I genuinely like talking to her, and I don't see a reason to lie to her like so many people in my age group. She calls me when I'm at a bar and I say, "Call you tomorrow, Mom, I'm drunk right now." And she laughs, and I call her tomorrow.

That's not to say that parents should all treat their kids like equals... I definitely don't think a blanket statement like that would be accurate, and it's not like I'm qualified or old enough to give much insightful parenting advice. But it's worth noting that I'm not a bad kid (as far as I know), and some of the biggest losers I know had very strict parents. It's not a black-and-white issue of "you need to get your kids' respect by acting like a drill sergeant"... though for some kids, that probably works. I don't know. I was always the kind of child who actually listened to my mom when she told me to "think about what I've done", and being any more disciplinarian than that did little other than piss me off and stir up my rebellious side.

So, uh... I guess you should just know your kids and adjust your parenting style accordingly?

Anyway, it worked for me. I'm looking forward to getting back home and shooting the shit with my mom. I'm not quite as close to my dad, largely because of things that happened over the years and the fact that he's simply not as emotionally open as my mom is, but I still love him. Maybe we'll do something cool; he was sad that we didn't get to play any good board games together the last time I was back in my hometown (he's a bit of a board game aficionado -- picks 'em up from flea markets, garage sales, what-have-you).

My grandparents are, simply, the coolest grandparents ever put on the planet. None of them are old-of-touch old people, they're all young in spirit and can keep a conversation going like no one else. I love them dearly. Another big part of why I'll be happy to go home this summer is that one of my grandmas is starting to get very old and I'm constantly afraid that every time I see her is going to be the last time. But, so far so good.

My friend Dave performed stand-up comedy at an absinthe coffee bar of all places. He's in a wheelchair, but he can still stand up for a certain amount of time, so he did his usual "It's a miracle! The cripple walks!" joke, which usually doesn't get much more than a titter from the crowd, but in this case (it being St. Patrick's Day) everyone was either too drunk or too crazy on absinthe to stop laughing. It was a fun time. Someone thought I was trying too hard to be Irish by drinking Guinness all night, but no, I just like Guinness. Give me a break, random drunkard. Jeez.

I ran into the bartender again the next day, tanning in front of the local head shop as I passed by. Keep it classy, Windsor.

There wasn't much of a point to this daylog, I just felt like writing down a few of my daily thoughts. Back to the editing room for me, now. Mike is coming over to record guitar with James soon, and once we have the music all finished, the video will be finished and I can move onto something else. And hopefully I'll win the contest I'm entering this video into, right? Right.

É ingratidao falar mal do vinho
E a provar o que digo
Vamos, meu amigo, a mais um copinho
- Mariza, Ouça Lá, Ó Senhor Vinho

Dear whoever this concerns:

I haven't written much lately. I feel like I have poured too much sad and not enough happy, and things are feeling flat. I don't mean for most of my tales to be sad. Truly, I don't. It's just that I'm always told, "Write what you know". It is as simple and as difficult as that. Most of what I write is true, and most of what I write is real, and most of what I write is probably a bad idea.

I still have many stories to share and I don't know where to begin. It is like all these moments are surfacing for me and I want to express them but I already feel so damn exposed here. At the same time I wonder why not? Over time I have peeled myself down, layer by layer. It is all out there if you want it. This is something that has been both painful and cathartic. The knife ever so gracefully poised over my cadaver, waiting to sink into flesh and reveal all the viscera underneath. But I am no longer looking to see who is wielding the scalpel, instead I am itemizing these things, labeling them neatly, presenting my case and stepping back to allow for the words to speak for themselves.

What you don't see is what is happening between the lines. I am really good at playing the bumbling fool. However, the curious (but wholly expected) side effect of playing the fool is that I am never taken very seriously. This is my protective shell - do not allow myself to be seriously considered and then I won't get hurt. When I am cornered into telling it like it is, no fancy analogies or anything, I shuffle my feet abashed and wishing that the focus was on anything but me. People would not believe that I am terribly shy; that I rarely tell the people I love how I really feel about them; that I rarely smile; that I cry and cry until I am dry and then I won't cry for months; that these days I think that I am almost always afraid. I have spent literally decades of my life fooling people into thinking I am unapproachable, like some freaking special unicorn faerie or something. That if you touch me you will find that I disappear into the mists. I am fun but I will hold you at arms length.

I am really tired of pretending that I am ok. I pretend and I pretend and everyone else goes along with it. That is so much better for me than to see their worried glances and sometimes even see their questioning eyes. And I want to be honest here, life has been one long struggle and this past month or so has been more than I can bear at times. So now I am trying to just sort of live day by day, watch the seconds on the clock march in cadence and bring me closer to an answer.

I keep opening and closing my hands. I keep blinking my eyes. I keep feeling my pulse under the surface of my skin and thanking god for every little beat that pumps through my heart.

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