A story from Young Sheldon you won't read anywhere else

Back in March, my daughter was asked to work as a background actor on a show called Young Sheldon. She loves being on set, and I love craft services, so we went together on another daddy/daughter adventure.

I didn't know Jon Favreau was directing this pilot. Nor did I know Jim Parsons would be on set. The former is as professional as they come, but he showed a tender side in working with kids. After lunch, he flipped through a Spot-It deck with a couple of the child actors. Cool.

And Jim Parsons said hello while I was watching my daughter in a scene. He was kind and so unassuming. He showed respect to all.

But the story I want to share is about an adult background actor named Chris. I didn't learn his name until midway through the day. I barely talked to him the first several hours as my daughter went through wardrobe, hair and makeup, and then shuttled to set in Burbank.

Chris kept to himself. I would catch glimpses of him standing off on his own staring into the distance. He didn't seem standoffish or rude -- just disinterested in the ten or twelve other background actors, the handful of parents accompanying their littles, and the various crew that waltzed in and out of the trailers and tents that make up a television shoot.

I don't remember how or when the conversations with Chris started, but I do remember just a touch of uneasiness as he seamed more interested in talking with my 12-year-old than with me. He wasn't saying anything remotely disarming, but in today's world, a father's guard is always up. But the more Chris talked with the kids and, as he grew more comfortable, the adults, the more I learned what an amazing man I was talking to.

In his mid-40s now, Chris joined the army in his 30s. He was the oldest member of his squad in basic training. He took artillery shrapnel in his head and other parts of his body and witnessed friends die in war. He readily acknowledged that his mind wasn't functioning correctly anymore.

What could I do other than thank him profusely for doing something I could never do? I've been having more and more conversations with veterans lately, it seams, and it amazes me just how removed I am from the horrors these brave men and women have endured. And they all underplay what they've been through.

Chris didn't dwell on his own story. He shared only what was pried out of him by his newfound Young Sheldon friends. What he did was look me in the eye, many times, and tell me he believes in me. I'd shared enough of my story with him that he should have told me what a foolish dreamer I was. Instead, he encouraged me. Sincerely.

So why does Chris's opinion matter? Is this a case where the audience hears what it wants to hear and applauds loudly just because it is appeased? After all, we tend to repeat the opinions with which we agree and dismiss the ones with which we don't.

Well, the point of this writing is not what Chris said to me, but what I witnessed later in the day.

After shooting a scene, Chris found his way to a somewhat-isolated chair in holding, which on this particular day, was the backyard of the Burbank house which serves as the exterior of Sheldon's Texas home. Chris sat down, put his head in his hands, and cried.

I put my hand on his shoulder, "You alright, man?"

He nodded and looked at me, unable to speak clearly.

"It's good. These are good tears," he struggled to get out.

I smiled back at him through a tear as he added, "God is good."

After a few moments, Chris went on to tell me that being on a TV show was one of his bucket list items and that this was the one and only background gig he would likely ever do. Post-war, his life is forever compromised, but on this day, at this very moment when I continued to hold my hand on his shoulder, I watched in admiration as a grown man cried tears of gratitude.

"Don't stop believing," was one of the last things he said to me before he was released.

We didn't exchange phone numbers or connect on Facebook or Instagram. I rarely do that with folks I meet one day on set. But I wish I had connected with Chris beyond that day. Frankly, I could use his encouragement again.

For those that watch the pilot episode of Young Sheldon premiering tonight (September 25) on CBS, watch for the man mowing his lawn across the street from Sheldon's house. That's Chris. He's a war hero who had a dream of being on a TV show. Like my bike-riding daughter, he'll likely be blurry if he's seen at all, but you and I know he's there. And we know how much it meant for him to be Sheldon's neighbor mowing his lawn in his overalls.

So you're telling me there's a chance...

"Nothing gives me greater satisfaction than helping nurture talent to do the best they can in the audition process." - Casting Director, Lisa London, from her book, From Start to Stardom

Last week I auditioned for a television show and the casting director took a phone call in the middle of my audition. Seriously.

Needless to say, I figured my chances of booking the role were pretty slim. And yet... like Lloyd Christmas (Jim Carrey), I always hold out optimism no matter how stacked the odds seem against me.

That's the attitude anybody going into this crazy business has to have. I've written about odds and statistics many times. The older I get, the more stacked against me the odds become.

But I know there's still a chance. And that's what keeps me going. Whether it's one in a hundred, one in a million, or, to borrow my 4-year-old's expression, one in infinity and beyond, I know there's still a chance.

Casting Directors like Lisa London also keep me going. In a town where obstacles can appear insurmountable, Lisa reminds me that many are fighting to help us achieve our dreams.

Visit fromstarttostardom.com to order the book
and find even more great acting resources!

With a long list of casting credits that includes Roseanne, Hannah Montana, Adam Sandler's Sandy Wexler, and a handful of projects currently in pre-production, Ms. London certainly has the experience to validate the advice she gives in her amazing book, From Start to Stardom: The Casting Director's Guide for Aspiring Actors.

At my advanced age - and with nearly 20 years of professional acting experience - I shouldn't still be labelled aspiring, but until I'm fully supporting my family on paychecks from acting jobs, that's exactly what I am. And, really, no matter what stage one is at in a career, one should always aspire to learn and become better equipped for further success.

For those just getting started as actors, I can't recommend From Start to Stardom enough. This is, honestly, the best beginner's guide to the acting business I've ever read... and I've read a ton of books on the subject. This is a must-read for aspiring actors of any age and parents of aspiring actors.

Lisa's approach is so uplifting and positive that it's easy to get lost in the glamour of becoming a star in Hollywood. When she writes about casting Miley Cyrus as Hannah Montana, Miley's first professional acting gig, it's easy to get lost in the dream and put oneself in the shoes of Billy Ray's daughter. But Lisa also reminds us just how miraculous it is to be "the one" for any role in any project.

Lisa London, CSA

What Lisa does so well in From Start to Stardom is break down the steps necessary for finding success. She provides sample resumes, offers headshot advice, explains how to get discovered, and uncovers the best ways to land an agent and/or manager. Then she tackles the next stages of a career by offering audition tips and explaining what goes on behind the casting director's door. The book even includes legal information for minors working in show business as well as a ton of resources for everything from the Screen Actors Guild to websites that list auditions to Los Angeles studio locations. The teacher in me is giddy with the comprehensiveness of Lisa London's book!

Again, this is a must-own book for beginning actors, but any actor, regardless of their career level, will benefit from these 166 pages. One paragraph in particular was just what I needed to read, and it came at it exactly the right time. With permission, I've included the paragraph here:

"Another killer of opportunities and creator of bad attitudes is self-invalidation. What is self-invalidation? It is making less of yourself, putting yourself down, focusing on your faults, thinking you are no good and that you will never meet your goals. This is something that will kill you as an actor or an artist. Sometimes, these ideas that you are no good, these negative thoughts, are things that you have heard from others. For example, you have a relative or friend who thinks you will never make it as an actor. You can't let your family's difficulties or lack of success become your problem. You must keep your dreams separate and not give up based on someone else's failures." (p. 107)

Man. I love these words. I need these words. Can you feel me? Leave a comment and let me know how these words make you feel.

Now, the flip-side to all of this is the harsh reality that more actors fail in this business than succeed. Look at me. While many would love to be in dozens of commercials, star in a bunch of independent features, have leading roles on cable shows, or an appearance on the number one television drama in the world, my bar is set at a level that I haven't even come close to reaching. At what point does common sense walk in and slap me across the face and convince me the bar is unattainable?

With apologies to some, the answer is, never.

This is my gift. I didn't ask for it, but here it is. I'm constantly asking God to be specific in how He wants me to use this gift. So far, I have to assume I've been on the right track. Only time will tell if my expectations align with His, but the path, I feel, has been the correct one for me; for my immediate family; for those with whom God wants me to interact.

Like most actors, I'm currently somewhere between start and stardom, and while I don't know if I'll ever reach the stardom end, I know if I'm persistent, I will be successful. That's what this business comes down to -- persistence. Dreams need not expire.

For those who desire a career in the movie business, specifically as an actor, get Lisa London's From Start to Stardom. Focus more on the start than the stardom and see what happens. As Eleanor Roosevelt said, "The future belongs to those who believe in the beauty of their dreams."

I'm telling you there's a chance.

Visit http://fromstarttostardom.com to buy the book and learn more about the acting business!

Align

"Most of us don't think about miracles that we could possibly do. We don't have a vocabulary of how God works with the specific things that He does, and we don't know how to align ourselves with what He is doing so that we can be His vehicle on the earth to deliver a miracle." - Bruce Wilkinson

I met a dear actor friend recently at Echo Park, my first visit to this valiant attempt at natural serenity in the heart of Los Angeles. Our walk around the "lake" placed us in the perfect spot at the perfect time to snap a photo of the fountain, the Good Year Blimp, a commercial jet, and the moon at the very moment they aligned perfectly together.

Trivial luck? Inconsequential coincidence? Silly throwaway moment? Yeah. Probably.
 
But it triggered a thought. And that's a dangerous thing in my malleable mind.

As conversation with my friend vacillated between acting jobs, life in LA, future projects, health, and God, the coincidental alignment in the dusk sky illustrated almost too perfectly our struggles as creatives. So many moving parts have to align for us to even have a chance at any kind of success.

Ricky Schroder said this about his full runs on NYPD Blue and 24: "It's great work, but everything has to align. The producers have to want you; the network has to want you; there has to be great writing; and it's not as easy as it may appear to the outsiders to make all those things align."

Just cuz you eat with silver spoons doesn't mean things come easy, eh?

Casting Director, David Rapaport (@RapaportCasting), recently posted on Twitter the graphic on the right. Out of 3,638 actors submitted for a specific role, only 272 were scheduled to audition. Don't get me wrong, 272 is a TON of actors to audition! But simply getting the opportunity to get into the room is a miracle.

Let's have some math fun. Make Danica McKellar proud.

Of the 3,638 actors submitted for whatever role Mr. Rapaport was casting (anything from a guest star on Supergirl to a co-star on The Flash or a principal on a yet-to-be-released pilot), 7.5% were invited to audition. Of those auditioning, assuming this is for one role only, the chances of earning the role are 0.37%. If we take a step back and calculate the odds of earning this role based on the full number of submissions, we get 0.027% odds.

Awesome.

Just for fun, do you know what the odds are of winning $100 in the Powerball? 0.007%. The grand prize odds are 0.00000034%.

But I'M the crazy one for pursuing a Hollywood career instead of playing the lottery.

I digress.

Back to the alignment of the fountain, the blimp, the jet, and the moon. Sounds like a Narnia sequel, doesn't it?

I've spent so much time treating myself like the moon in this alignment. The top. The pinnacle. The achievement of the goal thanks to the alignment of the pieces below.

But then I got to thinking - What if I'm the fountain to someone else's moon? This doesn't have to be all about me. I'd prefer if it wasn't, actually.

As I've mentioned before, so many unbelievable things aligned in order for my family to get out to Southern California. Yet as we face scary uncertainty in the months ahead, it's hard to avoid circling the track of second-guessing. What if we really did blow our entire life savings only to retreat empty-handed back to Minnesota to start all over again?

But then I step outside my own goals and ponder my involvement in somebody else's goals. Maybe I'm here not to reach a personal goal, but to help somebody else reach theirs.

You know what? I'm cool with that.

I'm just a vessel. I'm in a rented body breathing borrowed air. If God needs me to help align somebody else's stars, I'm thrilled to be the fountain or the Good Year Blimp! Fat jokes notwithstanding.

As a matter of fact, I'm in the process right now of launching some projects that could prove very valuable to others. I'm anxious to share more about the projects, but for now, let me just say that without amazing alignments of circumstances, these exciting opportunities would never have blimped their way under my moon. Now there's a visual.

I've connected with some amazing people out here and I can't know fully the impact I've had on them, if any. Again, it's not about me, but about my position in others' alignments that I'm focusing on now.

Somehow the thought trail from the alignment of the fountain, the blimp, the jet, and the moon landed at Genesis 22 where God told Abraham to bring his son, Isaac, to a mountain to sacrifice as a burnt offering.

I've always reflected on Abraham's part in this story. Until now.

What about Isaac?

Look, there is no way Abraham could have kept completely cool about the intended outcome of this journey. Isaac had to have suspected something, right? I get that Abraham was being an obedient servant, but come on! If he didn't stop a time or two with nervous diarrhea or anxious up-chucking, I would be shocked.

So let's not overlook Isaac's role in this lesson. He was a part of God's plan to align Abraham rightly with the Will of God. Isaac could have fled or put up a fight or brought up his suspicions to his mom. But he didn't. Isaac willingly went along regardless of any suspicions he might have had. Must have had.

We all know the story ends with God providing a ram to sacrifice in Isaac's place, but neither Abraham nor Isaac knew of God's plan as they willingly obliged to the call.

Maybe I'm more of an Isaac than an Abraham. Maybe I won't be blessed with many nations, but I will help an Abraham be blessed with his.

At any rate, I'm just willing to be used in whatever way God wants to use me.

And right now, I feel like He wants to use me to tell a joke.

You see, what most don't know about Abraham and Isaac is that before the journey up the mountain, Abraham needed to upgrade his GPS software. Unfortunately, his iPhone didn't have enough processor power (old phone, ya know?) to run the new software. Isaac told his dad not to install it, but Abraham insisted, saying, "God will provide the RAM."

I'm here all week. Try the salmon. It's delightful.

What others say about me

"What you say about yourself matters very little, but what others say of you means the world."
-- Hugh Halter, from his book, Flesh

I don't sleep well. On a good night, I'm asleep within an hour of going to bed. If I wake in the middle of the night, I'm usually a couple dozen tosses and turns from my next dream. During the day, I can close my eyes, but rarely do I get past the "whoa, did I just doze off?" stage of slumber.

Why? Is it too much caffeine? Too much sugar? Too much excitement in my life?

Um. No.

It's because I can't shut my stubborn brain off. My thought control skills are on pace with Johnny Manziel's common sense skills. Below remedial.

If I'm not navigating creative waters, I'm treading the depths of self-doubt, God-doubt, and why-did-I-eat-so-much-ice-cream-doubt.

One prevailing narrative is the questioning of my value. Regardless of what Clarence taught George Bailey, I still find myself sinking into questions about my purpose.

On a micro level I know my kids need me. I believe my wife needs me. Still, it's hard not to consider the life my wife could have had with a more successful husband. A more stable husband. Someone who accepted his role in the blue collar world or maybe white collar world. There's nobility in working hard to bring home a paycheck.

But that's the thing. Man am I working hard. So hard that I'm getting burned out.

"I'm so busy" is a phrase that's thrown out almost as much as "Whatchoo talkin' 'bout, Willis?"

More? Yeah, probably more.

I don't expect everyone reading this to believe me when I say I'm working my tail off. After all, what do I have to show for it? I should share my tax returns here to really humiliate myself. By my calculations I've made about $0.27 an hour over the last 10 years. I made that number up. I'm too busy to calculate it for realz.

We're a results oriented society and the results just haven't been there for me. My family has suffered because of this. My ego has suffered because of this (which is technically a good thing, I know). And there are times I lie awake wondering if the worst is still ahead.

But the question prevails.

Why?

Why have I been allowed to work so hard for so long and not see the results I'd expected -- dare I say -- deserved?

I don't know. This silly little blog that I started before blogging was "in" (I think blogging is actually "out" now thanks to SnapChatteragram or whatevs) was supposed to be an inspirational account of one man's journey of overcoming the odds to prove that dreams really can come true.

If you didn't read that last line in your best movie trailer voice, here's another chance...

One man's journey of overcoming the odds to prove that dreams really can come true.

The late, great, Don LaFontaine,
king of movie trailer voiceovers (born in Minnesota!)

I've developed a counter theory to all of this now. I don't know if it's any truer than the former, but it's something I'm gnawing over. In the middle of the night.

What if my story is the anti-dream-following story? Despite Joel Osteen's claims, not everybody gets everything they want if they just believe it to be true. Maybe God needs me as an example that safety is sometimes the best route. Maybe my story is supposed to inspire in a way that contradicts my original intention.

If that's my reality, all I want is for people to say is that in spite of adversity, I am a hard worker. A good father. A worthy husband. A faithful servant.

Of course, that's all I want people to say about me regardless.

But the hard worker part is particularly sensitive to me these days. Really, I'm starting to question if the work I'm doing is useful. All the hours of research, networking, and creating -- are (were) they all worth it?

If I give up my Hollywood dream, I don't care if people assume it was because I wasn't talented enough. What I do care about is if people think it's because I didn't work hard enough for it. They'd be wrong on both accounts, but there's a sense of pride in hard work done well. I feel I've done that. And that's the example I want to give to my kids, my family, my friends, and anyone with whom I interact.

I don't know why God has me on the path He has me on, but I so desperately want to be an inspiration to everyone around me. Yes, I have an everybody-must-like-me complex, but my people-pleasing curse isn't driving my concern of what others say. It's simply that I want to be a positive influence. Not for my sake, but for the sake of the greater good.

But what does it matter what I say? What matters is what others say about me. Am I giving others reason to call me a hard worker? A good father? A worthy husband? A faithful servant? Regardless of whether I make it in Hollywood or not, at this point, all I care about is representing my faith in a pleasing manner to God.

And, really... is Hugh Halter's quote accurate? Does it matter what others say about me? Well, on a macro level, no. What matters is whether I am pleasing God. Where Halter's quote comes into play is that if we are pleasing God, by default, others will say good things about us.

Rich Sommer encourages me not to go mad

"I was eating pork chops and drinking a beer while I taped it, because, well, I figured it was never going to be seen anyway." -- Rich Sommer, describing his self-taped audition that led to his breaking-in role in The Devil Wears Prada

You know what they say... a Rich Sommer is better than a Poor Winter.

Why do I do stuff like that?

Anyway, I got in touch with Rich Sommer, probably known best as Harry Crane on AMC's runaway hit, Mad Men. Rich grew up in Minnesota and has made it in Hollywood. Geographically, our paths are similar. Buuuuuttt... he's a little farther along the path than I am. Matter of fact, I can't even see him with my max-magnification binoculars from Pervs R Us.

But I'm inspired. And humbled he took the time to humor my inquisitive mind.

Rich Sommer - photo by Ben Kusler

Born in Ohio, raised in Minnesota, Rich got his undergrad degree from Concordia in Moorhead. He went to Cleveland for grad school and then moved to New York City in 2004 to continue the acting career he'd already started. A commercial in Cleveland got him his union eligibility and a commercial in NYC not long after got him into the Screen Actors Guild (SAG).

"I think you have to join [SAG] as soon as you can," he advises. "It's tough to be taken seriously without that."

Rich was a part of the union very early in his career. For me, I was happy to remain non-union in Minnesota because there was such a dearth of SAG jobs in that market. Now that I'm in Los Angeles, I'm anxious to join SAG and my eligibility paperwork is pending right now. It's a good step for me. As Rich Sommer says, "The actual work requires being in the union. I wanted to do actual work."

Me, too, Rich. Me, too.

Of course, getting into SAG doesn't guarantee actual work. With far fewer jobs than actors, it takes patience, diligence, luck, and talent to elevate oneself into the coveted status of full-time actor.

It also takes thick skin.

I reached out to Rich after hearing him as a guest on Pilar Alessandra's On the Page podcast. I know I've raved about Pilar and her podcast before, so I won't do it again here. More than once. Pilar's On the Page podcast is great and if you're not listening to it, you're mad, man.

See what I did there?

I got sidetracked.

That's what I did there.

Back to Rich and the thick skin segue I hijacked from myself.

On Pilar's podcast, Rich shared the story of his adventures through pilot season 2006, when at one point his manager was called by the CBS comedy division. The suits asked Rich's manager to stop sending him on any more comedy auditions because he wasn't funny. The only callback Rich received that entire pilot season was for Mad Men.

The rest, as they say, is language arts. I mean, history.

With my slow start out here in Hollywood -- and granted, three months is hardly enough time for anyone to really get themselves established in a new market -- I'm encouraged by Rich's 2006 pilot season. Not because I take pleasure in knowing a very talented actor wasn't getting called back, but because it proves that it's just a numbers game. The key is to stay in the game until the numbers work in your favor.

Naturally, I wanted to know if Rich had considered throwing in the towel after the less-than-encouraging phone call from CBS. "It wasn't a super fun phone call to get," he says obviously. "Of course there were times I considered bagging it all, but most of those preceded that pilot season."

It makes sense he would stay in the game. After all, he'd landed the role in the Meryl Streep comedy, The Devil Wears Prada, a summer earlier. He had a good manager, who he says he'll be loyal to forever. He'd booked commercials and was getting called in for auditions.

He even claims the CBS people were right. That he wasn't funny.

I doubt it.

But it's that kind of humility that makes me root for Rich Sommer. And it's his thick skin that allowed him to press on after a rough message from the CBS comedy division that encourages me to stick in this game.

He adds, "Besides getting a career-changing gig (Prada), I didn't know what else to do. I did three years of grad school for acting, and I wasn't ready to chuck it all yet. There are people who have been grinding it out for decades. Two years and a bad phone call from CBS isn't a reason to bag it. For me."

Full disclosure -- I asked him if he considered quitting the game after the CBS phone call without knowing the correct timeline of when he booked Prada. To have a significant role in a major studio picture starring one of the greatest actors in the history of cinema is reason enough to stay in the game no matter what the next year brings. Duh.

Still, we actors are a sensitive lot. I know I have a tough time believing my past successes are any better indications of my true talent than my current failures. But that's just me.

Rich has encouraged me and I hope anybody who stumbles across this little blog entry finds encouragement as well. Perhaps the tastiest nugget I devoured is Rich's story about his self-taped audition for The Devil Wears Prada. To go along with his quote that prefaced this writing, he says, "I took the result of [the audition for The Devil Wears Prada] as a lesson. Putting myself on tape is a pretty laid-back affair, and I definitely owe it to that little happening."

In the end, all of what we do as actors should be approached with a laid-back attitude. Not lazy. Not half-assed. Just relaxed.

If we can't find a way to relax in this game, we're all going to go mad, man.

I did it again.

Spin

"How different would people act if they couldn't show off on social media?" - Donna Lynn Hope

I've only been living in Los Angeles for six weeks now, and I've already worked on Grey's Anatomy, Secrets and Lies, How to Get Away with Murder, and an exciting new show debuting in October called Crazy Ex Girlfriend. I've done scenes with Terry O'Quinn, Juliette Lewis, and Sarah Drew, among others. I was accepted into the UCB Improv School and signed across the board with a very well respected talent agency, Media Artists Group.

#actorslife
#blessed
#misleadingspin

Here's the truer version of the above paragraph...

I've been living in the Los Angeles area for six weeks now, and I've only been able to secure background work. Anybody with a driver's license and social security card can do what I've done. My blurred image will be seen behind the mentioned actors, but I certainly didn't "do scenes" with them. Aside from some inconsequential small-talk, I didn't even interact with any of them. UCB doesn't hold auditions to get into their classes. They hold fees. I paid the fee.

The agent part is true, and while I'm excited to have representation already, I owe it completely to a connection I had.

#actorslife
#truth
#ihatehashtags

I've always been one to highlight the thorns over the roses. So be it. I have nothing against positivity -- I'm really trying to improve mine -- but spinning things in order to get shallow Facebook comments of "You're a superstar!" or "So proud of you!" or "PTL" is just not my bag, baby. Truth be told, I've unfollowed plenty of peers who lack any sense of self-awareness and realistic assessments of what they've accomplished.

So let me just get this off my chest: I've accomplished nothing. I'm nowhere near where I want to be. I don't deserve praise or accolades for anything on my resume or IMDb page or, God help us all, YouTube.

When and if I ever do feel like I've accomplished something in Hollywood, I'll be sure to brag about it all over Facebook. But I'll be sure to be secretive about several details so I can get the much-desired comments of "Tell us more!" or "Can't wait to hear all about it!" or "You're a superstar [even though I don't have any clue what you're talking about]!".

Some people. Right?

Look, I'll admit that I've actually enjoyed my background work. As I've always said to my real Industry friends, the worst days on set are still alright. I've actually been treated pretty well for the most part, aside from one PA who was a distant relative of Satan. How she gets work is beyond me.

The food is always good. I meet good people. I see the pros doing their things. I make almost enough money to buy a tank of gas.

I wouldn't have these opportunities in Minnesota, so I'm thankful to be out here. Not exactly living the dream, but I feel closer now than I did before we moved.

But still...

Uphill

"This hill goes on forever!"

Says I when I run in the hills overlooking the Santa Clarita Valley.

"It's a good burn!"

Says I when I near the top.

"What? That's NOT the top?"

Says I when the road winds around a corner and my muscles turn to undercooked cheesecake.

"Stop talking to yourself."

Says I when people give me weird looks.

So I'm here in Los Angeles(ish). Actually a little north. But only a half a podcast away from the places I need to go. Well, the places I hope to need to go.

But as I laid out in my first post nearly seven years ago, my journey was never specific to geography. So while I've technically made it to Hollywood from Minnesota, I am still a long ways away.

But I'm closer than I was seven years ago. Seven months ago. Seven weeks ago. At least I hope I am.

I've still got a lot of big hills to climb, metaphorically and literally. Seriously, running in my neighborhood is brutal. If nothing else, living out here is going to get my quads back into shape.

I can vouch for the views at the top of the hills. They're amazing. Dry. But amazing.

So as I continue to climb uphill, I remind myself that the view from the top is worth it.