I believe in fighting against my apathy.

I believe in fighting against my apathy. This is, or should be, a life of choices.

I am essentially a very ambitious person. I'm a creative dreamer. I moved to Nashville in 1993 to go after my dreams of doing music just like some of my heroes. It's been an amazing journey. I find myself wearing the different hats of singer/songwriter, author/journalist, and am even acting in my first film. But being the freelance, or self-unemployed, kind of person I am, I have so many options of ways to spend my time. Heck, I've got a stack of really amazing creative projects I could be working on right now.

But I've been down this road before. I've mustered up my energy and written pages and pages of books...that have gone unread by thousands and thousands of people. I've written and recorded songs that have been heard only by my family and a handful of friends. When I think of all I've created and worked toward, without achieving what feels like any tangible results, or getting any place I thought I’d be, it's often impossible not to throw my hands up and say, "What's the use of even trying?" It's a subtle, but completely paralyzing, one-two punch of apathy.

Apathy is a lack of interest, concern, or emotion. It's a flat-lined, comatose-like state of living that feels like nothing. Literally nothing. It's the muse-less artist. You know, the washed up old guy who drinks too much, and gawks a bit too long at the younger, good-looking hipsters. I pray I don't turn into that kind of person.

But if I were completely honest, I've made good friends with apathy. Oh, yes. It's an odd place of comfort. If I don't try to achieve anything, then I can't be hurt by being ignored or rejected. There's a comfort in nothingness, almost a sense of my being able to control my own destiny. When I can't choose success, I can at least choose apathy.. At least then I am in control, I am choosing.

Thankfully, I can only stay there so long, before I get stir crazy. The gift of maturity is learning how to engage my psyche in positive, healthy ways, rather than settling for what's easy or unhealthy. If I'm hungry, sometimes the shiny allure of the Golden Arches can actually be appealing. Unless I remember the gut ache I got after my last visit. Or how much better I'd feel if I'd eat something healthier. I've tried shame and addiction, and they never really worked very well for me. Apathy is easier, but no more satisfying.

I've found the best ways to fight my apathy are: Walking in honesty with my friends--relying on their encouragement and strength when I have none, exercising regularly and eating right, trying to do the most simple next-right-thing, and most importantly, allowing myself the same kind of grace and patience I would extend to someone else in my shoes. It's a quiet, one step at a time, kind of battle against apathy. One I will continue to choose to fight.

Because ultimately, I really like me, and the things I create. I think I bring value to other people's lives. I believe my creative efforts will ultimately help wake up other people who have fallen asleep to their own lives. That's why I believe it’s so important for me to fight against my own apathy.

I don't want to be silly, per Oprah

I've been thinking about Oprah a lot this week. My sister taught me a good lesson that Oprah taught her. She said: Success is When Preparation Meets Opportunity. I can't help but think this "Clancy" movie has already been an amazing opportunity, but with people actually having the chance to go see it, the opportunity gains more and more value. I hope a ton of people go out to see it this weekend, and that they are inspired and encouraged—and that they cry when they hear my song "Precious Memories." So, I've been trying to get prepared. But how in the world do you prepare for something like this?

There have been a couple of options for me this week: 1) Dismiss it as really nothing. I'm blowing things out of proportion by even getting excited about the what-might-happens, 2) Work hard on preparing my website and music just in case all the stars line up and there's suddenly interest in my tune.

It's so easy to pick #1—I'm very familiar with this one. Why work hard at something so hard, knowing the chances are extremely slim that anything out of the ordinary will ever happen? It's so much easier to act like I don't care. But in truth, I care a ton about what happens with my career. Heck, I've worked a lot of years, and swam through a lot of murky waters, trying to locate amazing opportunities—like getting an original song placed in PRIME location in a film shown in theaters around the country.

Even writing this, I'm tempted to think I'm just being stupid. "Don't get your hopes up. You'll only be disappointed," the voices say. But I'm convinced there's a huge difference between having false expectations of great things happening and being fully prepared for those great things that could possibly happen.

I'd hate to be the person that wasn't ready, just because he thought he was being silly.

P.S. Check out: www.PreciousMemoriesTribute.com

Movie-Making Weekend 2 - A Big Success!

This past weekend I got to go back to Louisville for another day of shooting on "The Perfect Gift." I had such an amazing time, even though the day was long and laborious. We were basically shooting about seven pages of one scene throughout the entire day. And of course, the whole thing was shot backwards, so there was no rhyme or reason to much of it.

I got there about 9:30 Saturday morning, after experiencing a delicious omelet at the Embassy Suites. I had brought most of my closet with me, so the director Jefferson would have his pick of what I would be wearing. After getting dressed, I got to sit down in the hair chair. I don't really know what she did there, but she sprayed some stuff and combed something. Then I got to sit with the wonderful Cassie in the makeup chair. She's so amazing—so calming, so loving, and encouraging. Everything a nervous actor needs.

While in the chair, I could look out the window and see a huge group of people moving across the parking lot. I said, "Hmm...look at all those people! I wonder what they're doing?" Cassie said, "Those are the extras for the shoot today." That immediately jazzed me up. I've been an extra on so many shoots. I know how miserable it can be. How thankless. And how much you feel like a dumb sheep being herded around and generally treated like crap. And how it feels to look up and see the "important" people getting to do the real acting...and wonder if I'd ever get that chance.

My first motion picture extra work was in the early 90s, in the not-yet-classic film "Drop Dead Fred" starring Phoebe Cates, a guy who was on "ER" (Ron Eldred, I think) and another guy who was in the British sitcom, "The Young Ones." I got to be in a giant food fight scene that took place in a swanky downtown Minneapolis restaurant. I was in prime position. When the camera was on Phoebe eating dinner, I was directly behind her. You could totally see the back of my head. It was awesome. My big break, I was certain. I discovered if I "reacted" a bit to the commotion, and turned my head, you would probably see my actual face. I did a lot of sideways glances that day. Can you imagine how thrilled I was when the director actually came over to my table. I leaned toward him. He graciously whispered in my ear, "Don't turn around so much." There goes my Oscar. (Though the side of my head did make it onto the back of the DVD box. Score!)

This past weekend was surreal in so many ways. I wasn't an extra. I actually had a very sizeable role in this scene. I play the antagonist in the film, and this was my big day to present my case to the City Council. I pretended to be Harry Hamlin in "L.A. Law"—but don't tell anybody I told you that. We shot the crowd scenes first, a lot of "over my shoulder" looking at the crowd kind of stuff. Then at the end of the day, we did my medium and close-up shots. For those shots, the extras were gone, and I acted to a few crew people, and in my head, my high school drama teacher Mr. Fortney, who let me be the only guy he didn't cast in "Pippin," my senior year musical. More on that later.

During the shoot, I also realized the value of kindness, and how incredibly easy it can be to show some. I pictured myself as an extra, hoping that Phoebe Cates would even just make eye contact with me—to acknowledge my existence as a fellow actor, much less a fellow person. So Smeby decided to not be Phoebe. I had some awesome conversations with some of the fellow actor/people working that day. I was honored to hear about Steve's son, Nils' desire to act, and Evan's passion for writing and teaching. I was also thrilled to mostly remember all my lines.

Overall, I was blown away by the attitude on the set. It was an attitude of encouragement—people would actually clap for each other between takes. Jefferson was an amazing director/writer/actor—continually being gracious to everyone, especially as he'd explain the process of filmmaking to those who were on their first set.

I left feeling on top of the world. There had been a terrible snow and ice storm while we were shooting inside the City Hall, but I managed to lug all my clothes back into my trunk, scrape off my car, and once back in my hotel room, celebrate an amazing day with some delicious mint chocolate chip ice cream. This joy, this gratitude, this blown-awayness—of having received an opportunity I've only dreamed of—feels like incredible success.

There is nothing sexy about movie-making.

Seriously. Unless you've actually been on a set you have no clue how mundane and boring, as well as intense and intimidating, it can be. Don't get me wrong, I'm not complaining. It's actually a dream come true to be in a movie, with actual cameras, lights, make-up, and catering. I'm thrilled to have been cast in a really charming Christmas film called "The Perfect Gift" filming up in Louisville over the next few months. I've got the best part in the whole movie. I play the guy who's actually trying to steal Christmas from a local church. The big scene we shot on Saturday was me going in to tell the Pastor they have to take down the Nativity Scene they put up in front of their church. Yep, I'm that guy.

Okay, so the strange part about the weekend was that in the middle of my dream-come-true experience being in a movie, there was a ton of really freaky stuff happening. Stuff that kept happening that (as I like to say) was trying to steal my joy. And I was committed to not letting that happen, cause, heck, I was in a movie!

I can't tell you everything that happened because some of it was actually very personal and had me in tears. But I can tell you about waking up in my hotel room Saturday morning and finding out there was no water in the whole area. I was filming a movie and I couldn't take a dang shower! How crazy is that? If you haven't watched the news at all, you probably aren't aware of the massive ice storm that paralyzed much of Kentucky. Louisville was hit hard. It looked like an incredibly powerful tornado went through the town, followed by Mr. Freeze (from Batman) covering everything with a thick layer of ice. Power was out all over the place, and many people didn't even have cell phone service. It felt a bit like being in a Third World country, all the while it was 60 degrees in Nashville, just three hours south. But as a result of not having water, I got to meet Steve Scarborough and his family. Deacon Steve lived across the street from the church where we were filming, and volunteered his shower for my use. His house was turned into a refuge for his extended family members to sleep, eat, do laundry or shower. Steve's wife was cooking a huge breakfast that morning, and I noticed a giant turkey in the oven. Their amazing gift of hospitality, revealed by the tragedy of storm, blessed me.

Hundreds of guys from power companies around the region pulled their repair trucks into my hotel parking lot (and others nearby) to help out the struggling crews in Kentucky. Even though I'm sure they had to leave the comfort of home and their families behind, I love how this horrible storm revealed the selflessness of these guys—showing how we can help each other out when others are in trouble and we have the resources.

I stopped to get gas just outside of Bowling Green. I started to wash my windshield with the squeegee thingy, and quickly noticed something smearing on the glass. I first thought it was bird poop. But it wouldn't come off. It actually got worse the more I tried to wipe it off. The young kid emptying the garbage tried his best to help me, first using Coke to get it off, then trying a razor blade. Nothing worked. But he did figure out it was actually engine oil on my windshield. Bummer. He pointed me to a hardware store down the street in Smith's Grove where I met a really great man (David Manning) who generously gave his time to try and help me with several different kinds of cleaning sprays. This was the typical small town hardware store, overcrowded and friendly, with free popcorn by the backdoor. I'm thankful I got to experience David's compassion, revealed by the ickiness of the oil on my windshield.

Yes, I was in a movie this past weekend, and I have a couple more days of shooting ahead. I'm blown away by that. Still, I'm more blown away by the effortless way circumstances attempt to try and determine my mood. But if I have my sights set on joy and gratitude, then challenges I meet merely become opportunities to experience nuanced revelations of unexpected beauty.

Something's Cooking in '09

You know how when you walk into someone's home and they've been cooking something like a pie, or cookies, or bread? There's an amazing rush of blood to my nose, and my olfactory glands start cheering like they're at a Jonas Brothers concert. My heart starts pounding a little faster. Something good is coming my way, my stomach screams. And if the chef is someone who loves me, like say, my mother, the chances are that the special something I'm smelling has been prepared with me and my joy in mind. This is how I'm feeling about 2009. I can't quite tell what's in the oven, but it sure smells good. Mmmmm...

Honestly, it smells like hope. And for me, that hope is based in the belief that God has my life completely under control and He's working behind-the-scenes to bring about situations and opportunities that are specifically for my joy and ultimately, for His glory. That's cool. It has already been happening. Actually most everyday it happens for me. Whether it's some great time with a friend, an unexpected email, or an encouraging word from someone who didn't have to deliver it.

There are, as well, some exciting things going on professionally that jazz me up. I'm going to be in a movie! We begin shooting my part up in Louisville next weekend in a really great Christmas film called "The Perfect Gift." I get to play the antagonist in the story. They are also possibly going to be using my "Emmanuel" song in the flick. Combine this with the release of "Clancy" in the next couple of months, and my "Precious Memories" song and video...and I'm nearly blown away. I've also had a couple cool auditions lately: one to host a documentary about the Battle of Johnsonville, and another to act in a vampire comedy film. Ah, the dichotomy! I've also had several really great meetings about my music with some brilliant people that I'd only dreamed of talking to. And I continue to have really beautiful times leading worship at my church, as well as strangely significant times tending bar at the Hilton. Ah, the dichotomy!

Sometimes I wonder, am I just looking for these moments of joy, and so I, in effect, "bring them into existence"? Or is there really something going on here that is being orchestrated beyond my understanding. I can't answer that. Except that when my mom cooks something I love, I know it's because she cares about me deeply and wants to make me very happy. And right now, I'm feeling very loved by all that's happening.

Something smells really good. And I can't wait to see what's cooking.