Hello from (sunny) LA! Actually, it’s raining today…as it would when I’m in LA…womp womp. Good thing I’m a little bit of a weird weather junkie (<nerd alert).

ANYWAY…There are a lot of things that stress me out but as a freelancer, money (or lack there of) is what digs at me the most. First of all, let me say that I hate money. I hate what it does to people, I hate that I need to think about it, I wish we could all just trade goods and services (if only I could convince my landlord)! However, it is an absolutely necessary evil. Living paycheck to paycheck is a constant struggle (especially in NYC) and I often think about getting a full time job…but then I go in for the interview and am faced with the actual day-to-day of said job and it makes me so unhappy that I end up self sabotaging. After a couple of days of brutal overanalyzing I usually come to the conclusion that the difficulties of freelancing (and not ever being able to get nice things or go on vacation) are still outweighed by that fact that I get to spend 80% of my time working on things I care about.




Unfortunately, as a filmmaker working towards making my first feature film, money is the make or break element. If I can’t raise the funds, I can’t make the movie, so the pressure is on. I start to think about how much money I realistically need to shoot my film (even though it is technically low budget) and I get overwhelmed and then sad/helpless and often angry at all the terrible films that somehow get the money to get made. It’s a vicious cycle and it feeds my insecurities like no other. Independent films are already a very risky investment because chances are the investors are not going to get their money back, so the fact that any of these films get made is a miracle. Couple that hard truth with my demon inner monologue (“You’re a nobody, why would anyone want to take that risk on you?” etc) and before I know it I’m on that downward spiral to anxiety land.

I wrote this poem during one of these instances…


MONEY // 1.12.17

From tree of life


Evil paper.

Good to bad.

Most fragile power,

ripped by a toddler.

Yet, it rules

the world.

Can’t live without it,

can’t get


Survival hinging,

family breaking,

spirit crushing.

The only argument

you’ll ever need.

The reason good people

turn to hate.

Wash your brain


wants as needs

to understand


we’re taught to



kill for cash.

Imaginary weight.

Folded cranes

don’t fly

or breathe.

I think it sums up my conflicting feelings about money pretty well and it helped me get out some of my frustration. Reminding myself that money is literal paper, helped to take a little pressure off, however, I don’t think my anxiety about it will be going away anytime soon (or even ever).


I just need to keep reminding myself of my own self worth, that my perspective and my work is worth investing in…That there is value in my voice, despite the fact that I have a hard time seeing it sometimes. If I don’t believe in my project (and myself) how am I ever going to convince someone to invest in me?!!!! My only choice is to move forward, fake it ’til I make it because giving up is not an option.


Thanks for listening. Over and out!