Share a story of someone who had a positive impact on my life,
I’m reading a lot of Shakespeare these days, so I’ve been thinking about him quite a bit…but my Sophomore and Junior-year English teacher, Mr. Stephen Miller. He was loud, bald, wore the most retro-looking coke-bottle square horn-rimmed glasses you’ve ever seen, and he was known as being a motherfucker of a teacher. As in: his classes were HARD. People wore that like a badge of honor, though, which instant perked my interest.
And they were right: his classes were hard. God I loved them, though. And I learned so much. He was instrumental, in fact, in me deciding to get into acting, thus screenwriting, thus book writing. It was in his Shakespeare class that it dawned on me just how dope theater was, how moving writing could be, and how much I could achieve if I set the bar high enough for myself, expected more of myself.
Cheers to you, Mr. Miller. You were a legend. I hope you still are a legend out there somewhere, but you will always be one to me for those years 25 years ago.
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Seven pages today. I burned out in the PM, but that’s okay. I’ll push again tomorrow. Protect the time. Make sure I get ‘er done. I really wanted to go out and work some more on the front yard with the weather turning cool again, so I did.
Work was busy! But I got that shit done, too. Took a quick nap. Fiddled with making h265 files. Can’t beat that compression! Walked the pups. Oh, and the Wolves blitzed the Warriors in the third to go up 20…and I believe that’s the death knell on the season, folks. The Curry injury scuttled us. We weren’t good enough to survive without him. Sigh. Frustrating, because we would have beat Minnesota rather easily, I think, if we’d still had him. It’s not over over…but its over. Unless a miracle happens. I’ll hope for that, I guess.
Night night.