Diana Ross Syndrome

I was on the train, and listening to Diana Ross & Lionel Richie sing "Endless Love". And then as we stopped at a station, a trendy guy boarded the train and sat down on my right, and a pretty girl sat to my left, and I turned my music down a little. Some part of me didn't want the strangers to hear what I was listening to.

What the hell is that? I'm turning down part of who I am. And for what?

In school you're meant to conform and fit in. A lot of us rebel against it, but we still conform sometimes. It's easier to rebel using Marilyn Manson and Slipknot, because it has attitude, you can conform to something else.

But people shut out the fact they like Lionel Richie and Phil Collins. What the fuck?

I know that these two strangers on the train don't care about me and can't hear my music. But I turned it down. Am I turning down the part of me that likes that music? Or am I turning down the part of me that has endless love in it?

Let's take it to a crazy level.

Let's say the girl sitting next to me finds me attractive, and has no idea what I'm listening to. We get talking, and an hour later we're in Starbucks talking about our mutual love of Tupac and Oasis. Would I keep quiet about the fact I like some Diana Ross songs?

Actually I wouldn't. Everyone who gets to know me knows my music tastes are all over the place. But yet, something in me, some reaction, made me turn the music down. Who in me was that?

I know what you're thinking, you're thinking 'Kid, stop reading into pointless bullshit', or 'Kid, review the new X-Men film', but you can read that on all the other blogs.

Some parts of us we share, some parts we oppress. When did it start? We do it unconsciously all the time, we don't even realize, we shut things out, shut 'em down. And I just caught that little moment on the train, and it made me curious. How often have I done that?

People hide passions that way. You can know someone for six years before they tell you they like drawing. People die before you find their poetry.

Is this nature or is it society? Maybe I should just get some speakers and make the whole train listen to Lionel Richie and Diana Ross.

Maybe what you hide the most is what is really needed. The poet dies without sharing her poetry, when in life all you got were status updates about her cat.

Us humans are strange.

And some part of me wants to shut this down. "Why are you blogging about this shit on a film blog!", says the inner-voice. This is what happens when you begin exploring yourself, you think you're insane. You think you won't fit in.

You care about that stuff after all.

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Ice Cream

Life is about magic. I'm convinced we know this as kids which is why we leave the sun on and go running around with pretty girls as we stampede towards the ice cream van because if we don't make it in time we might just die.

Being an adult is all about finding excuses for not running after the ice cream. If you're lactose intolerant then fair enough, but for the rest of us - what exactly is our problem?

Life ends.

It stops.

There's no more.

Why even risk the chance of not creating your art. Remember when you were eleven and you stayed out later than you were meant to? Remember when you and Laura rode your bikes over to the hill where smoke was rising from the old haunted mansion? You'd ride so fast, desperate for adventure. Desperate to know life wasn't decided already.

And at some point something in life makes you realise you're not meant to ride your bike anymore. You're not meant to go exploring unknown places with your crazy friends.

One minute you're thirteen and insane and the next you're thirty eight and bored.

That's where art comes in. You get to play. You get to feel again. You get to take risks. Nothing is decided and you can be anyone.

It's not pretend. It's who you really were before the world told you to get good grades and find a job and marry up. It's who you really are.

Every film is about someone throwing off the chains and deciding to be free, or about disregarding the inner oppression and choosing to love again.

Films aren't just fairytales or mythical nonsense. They're the parts of ourselves that get discarded and left on the scrapheap.

Make your Passion project. Do it any way you can. You'll get to play. You'll be running after an ice cream van.

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The Richness Of Our History: My Personal Experience Of Remembrance Day 2010

I often despair about how my generation is so willing to disregard the past. Yesterday, thousands upon thousands of young students took to the streets of London in protest at the Government rising tuition fees. The protests weren't peaceful; they were violent. During a week when a large percentage of the population are wearing red poppies, I found it quite upsetting that with our freedom, we turn to violence. Whilst some would say "it would only a very small minority" there was a much larger, silent minority, that were cheering them on and supporting them.

For me there is a big link - between what was happening yesterday, and what was happening today as me and my friend Raz made our way to a local remembrance service at a site that's historical significance has mostly been lost to the younger generations. I was saddened to see that me and my friend were the youngest people by about 40 years. Where were the other people of my generation? Where was everyone in between? My friend, Raz, was in agreement. And we felt quite sad about it. But then something changed in me-- which I'll mention in a bit but first let me talk about Derek and Bryan.

Derek came up to us before the service and, I guess, mistaking us for nine year old's asked "are you from the school?" We explained that we weren't -- and we got chatting. He began sharing many stories with us from when he was a young kid during the war. Like so many, his home was bombed. Like so many, he was so nearly killed. Like so many, he was injured in a way that has affected him his whole life. Like so many, he was evacuated as a child and taken away from his family, with no way to contact them. His stories were so amazing; at times inspiring, at times upsetting, but more often than not just extremely EXCITING! He was a young boy during wartime. And he had some great times. But he also had some very bad times -- and his emotions ranged from ecstatic and excited to deeply moved and emotional. Here was a man, in his late seventies, remembering vividly being a tiny kid in London.

I said previously that something changed in me. It was perspective. It came during the remembrance service as many incredible people stood up and shared a part of a story, a part of history, a part of themselves with the gathered crowd. I realized that, in terms of my generation and remembrance, the important people aren't the millions who don't show up. The important ones are people like me and Raz. That's what it is now. That's how history lives on, through two people or four people or one person or one school project that does something to help it live on. That's more powerful than a mass crowd. 30,000 students descended on London yesterday and smashed some buildings up -- the issue was lost, we were left with destruction. But two friends surrounded by warm and inspiring war veterans is something more powerful. My friend, Raz; is a very open, sensitive, and passionate Muslim man -- who came along on this cold, wet morning; to stand side by side with lots of old white people. Because he knew that color wasn't the issue. It's bigger than that. And there's me, a writer and a film director. If I go to a remembrance service but the 300 Facebook friends I invited didn't--- it doesn't matter. It's not about them. It's about me. It's about people like me. It's about showing up.

Who cares? It's in the past!? Have you ever heard that one? History is not in the past -- it relives itself every day. We can see history all around us. Today, as I connected with Derek and Bryan; they talked and they laughed and they cried, and so did we. They told me stories about the places I grew up --- places I know as parks and fields and shops but they know as airfields and command offices and places they'd find interesting bits of shrapnel.

Today was important, because we were able to say we're here. We're listening. We care. Our generation doesn't do that enough. We sit on Facebook, we write on our blogs and we send our text messages; but we don't have a great deal of awareness about what people have gone through in order for us to have those privileges. Derek was telling us stories today about people like the RAF BOMBER COMMAND, who had 55,000 aircrew KILLED during World War 2. Nothing has been done to commemorate these people. And to commemorate is important. That piece of cement in the ground, it needs to be there so we can say WE CARE. WE KNOW WHAT YOU DID. WE LOVE ALL OF YOU. What could be more important? The most I've volunteered to do recently was look after my friend's daughter for a night so she could have a night out. These fighters volunteered their lives, FOR US. FOR YOU, FOR ME, for everyone who's ever felt a moment of freedom in their lives. From the RAF Bomber Squad website "They died in blazing, crashing aircraft whilst fighting against the enemies of our free world. It is nothing short of a national disgrace that Britain has so far failed to properly recognise this brave and talented group of individuals." That's just one example of people who aren't recognized as much as they should be. There are many more. I'm sure you'll have examples, and people that are meaningful to you. 

Today was a good day. I felt a shift in the world, in my world. It's not about the apathy of those who don't take time to remember, or of the school who are ACROSS THE ROAD from the memorial who didn't respond to their Remembrance Service invite. It's about those men and women who were there. It's about those who fought, those who looked after our children, those who worked in factories contributing to the effort. It's about those who died and those who survived. And it's about me and you, in whatever way we can, REMEMBERING. And SHARING. And engaging people who have the capacity to be engaged on this topic; the topic being to remember. History is present all around us. There is a lot of pain, for a lot of people, and by taking the time to hear their pain you are giving them so much, and you are being given so much. There is also a richness and beauty to their memories; the joy, the victories and the camaraderie that they felt and still do. 

I'm glad you're all here.

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