Can You Be [Variable] and Still Get To Live A Life? By Christopher Siderreal

(Self­portrait for "Prime", lo­res image drawn fall 2013)

First draft started: June 7, 2016 In my sophomore year of high school I had to do a business plan for my economics credit. I had an idea for a website where all types of artists could place their original work. Film/TV, music, visual art...any type. I presented it to the class and I got blank stares. The class was attached to NFTE, which if my plan would have been popular in the class would have been entered into a contest and had a chance at real funding. This was 2008. Since then YouTube, Bandcamp, SoundCloud, Vimeo, DeviantArt, and dozens of other sites have become really big deals for artists. Artists even post their work on Twitter, Facebook, Tumblr, Instagram. A lot of artists even get funding online. But I got blank stares that day, even though I saw a real demand...even though my idea was worth something. It’s not about being cocky, everything that’s happened eight years later had given me the peace to say that. I'm an outlier. An extreme outlier. I don't fit a lot of molds. I don't meet a lot social stereotypes. I like manga but never fit in with the otaku who read it. I liked learning but got bad grades in school. I'm part Latino but eat “taco shells”. I haven't always been treated too well either because of all that. My relatives don't like me because I don't fit their ideas of what a "black male" is. I was looked over in school because I had my own ideas other than what was being taught. I was a hardcore Christian who got dirty looks from the stage because you could tell I was thinking during sermons. I'm never given too much good regard because I'm "not the type". I’ve worked myself to the ground these past five years trying to make moves in the entertainment industry. I don’t want to label myself as one thing but...all in all I guess I’d fit into the role of screenwriter. I want to be involved with the whole shape of it all though. I think about score, production ideas, I have notes on direction/casting/airing/promotion. Once again “not the type”, screenwriter’s aren’t supposed to think about all that. I’m working on about...thirteen things at once, but my main focus is “Project P” and “Project F”. I guess all artists believe in what they have, but these two ideas have driven me mad . I honestly think they're beautiful, even with my numbed out state. I can’t tell you specifics, but really...I think these shows could do a lot of good.

But time is running out by the month to get things rolling. I’ve compromised the stories too much already at the this point. I’ve spent the past five years numbing myself out typing who knows how many pages these past few years. I’ve sent out I don’t know how many emails, made a lot of calls, event sent out mail. I’ve tried getting a few things published but that’s never happened (maybe I can laugh at this if you’re reading this). I’ve made plan after plan and tried route after route. I’ve been like a one man office space and have barely seen the outside world in all this time. It’s a rough place for anyone I guess, especially for writers; but even the people who struggle in this industry get somewhere while they’re trying. These past few years I feel like I've had to work a million times harder than a lot of people. I work and work, but it feels like I’m on a treadmill. I’ve technically run the miles to my destination many times over, but I’m still in the same spot. Beautiful thing is I’m tired, working has actually been hurting me physically for a few years now, but I have to keep moving. Take a vacation? Sorry dude...don’t have the time, space, or money. Move to California? New York? I’m poor. I also have no fallback or support if things go south. I’m a one man cheerleader. Why didn’t you go to school? I tried. My financial aid got cut off. No one wanted to hire me. I got to work on my own and here I am. I’m being ignored by the greater world hardcore. I haven’t even been given the chance to get truly rejected like a heckled comedian or an actor with an agent who went to an audition but just never got the part. I’m being rejected the option to be rejected. It sucks. I can’t get heard by anyone. I’ve even been struggling to get advice, because no one will listen. I’m not presenting myself as an expert either (my technical writing skill's actually gone down since high school) but I still feel like I have something to give. But no matter how many times I bring that up...no one cares. I've worked myself insane, depressed, numb. I was so excited about all this when I was nineteen, now I’m twenty­four and I’ve kind of given up that I’ll ever be happy again. But let’s move on. I'm really agitated about this now because of this past year spent at Home Depot. The money helped with writing stuff, but killed me a bit on the inside. I got fired a few weeks ago for being late all the time. It was far away and I just lost motivation. It took more than it gave. I was getting ready to quit anyway, but they beat me by three days. It was a soul draining place. In my head I’m the founder of Cross Studio and the holder of amazing art, but there I was reduced to being...I don’t even have a word for it. I was denied my humanity, put it that way. I think it traumatized me to be honest. The person I was just a few weeks before getting hired is radically different from whoever I am now. And according to the checkpoints to the gates of success I was just where I belonged. Chicago is a very segregated city. Racially sure, but socio­economically and culturally too. You pretty much only find certain people in certain places. Maybe that's true for all of the world, but it's really true for Chicago. I'm from the south side of Chicago. Mostly poor people. Crappy looking buildings everywhere. Yogurt shops...I wish. It's where all the shootings you hear about happen. And not to scare you but even I know one gang sign. Just one. But how many people who know even one gang sign get articles published? I didn’t choose to see this gang sign thrown up. I'm not a gangbanger...I avoid thugs...I'm even made fun of by them which is cool. But back to the point guys...

The Home Depot I was employed at was on the north side of the city. I think it was actually down the street from a yogurt shop. I helped a well­paid actor with information about caulk once...which still haunts me for a lot of reasons. The people who live in this neighborhood don’t actually work in it...unless it’s something like a yoga studio made possible by generational wealth. I don’t mean to sound so hateful; I’m going through some things, sorry. I helped people find stuff to fix their fancy sheds, fix their fireplaces. People came up to me asking for help for their 1920s this and that, and for stuff I never heard of. I just learned what wainscoting was a few months ago and I think it’s really cool. Look...I have the Internet, but still. I was a poor person employed in a neighborhood where the people with opened doors lived. I talked to the “customers” as equals. I didn’t see them as less or more than me, unless they were acting dumb...then I gave myself permission to say I was more intelligent. When I talked to some of these people in this nice neighborhood about my writing career and when I was honest with them about how I felt about being behind that desk...they seemed to believe that good things just fall out of the sky. “ Just get another job”, “ just do this or that...duh”. I (Chris) can’t just do things like that. It's not so easy for me. I don’t have what you have. That’s why I’m working at Home Depot...duh. But for some people in this world things do fall out of the sky, and these same types of people are given the same easy chances generation after generation. It's not a race thing. It's not a gender thing. It's not entirely class either. It's maybe class and culture. It’s about the people who write checks and open doors only doing so for a certain type of person. I look at the young people in the entertainment industry and then I look at me. A lot of these young entertainers were born in much better neighborhoods than me. Their parents work in jobs where I know they're well paid...present tense. These young guys and girls have been on vacation more than once even before their career money kicked in. They can afford acting class, to take classes in music, to take up dance, all that. They don’t have to struggle as much to survive, so they even have time to develop their abilities (time a kid who has to work for all the basics in life doesn’t always have). They’re in the social circles with people who are already successful; they can get guided real easy. There was no tangent where they don’t get to live the life they’re living now. I even look at journalism. It's the same type of people writing in newspapers, journals, magazines. I feel like most of them grew up in a certain financial state, in a certain types of neighborhoods, around certain types of people, around certain types of things. They went to certain types of schools. And year after year it's those same types of people who the doors are opened for. My travel situation kind of backs this up, and it made me look at the world in a much grimmer way. When I traveled to Home Depot, I noticed that a lot of the people who I was on the bus and train with: they were never in the same rush as me. They were headed to the nice places in the city for leisure, and to go home. I was headed to those same areas to be underpaid in their neighborhood. I remember one time the train got delayed for thirty minutes. When I got to where I needed to go I was the only person who needed a late slip, because everyone else in the surroundings were on their own time. My ride back is where I start to get a little angry. A lot of the

people on the bus and train to the south side are usually wearing someone’s logo. And those who aren’t...I overhear their conversations, they work these “poor people” jobs too. They clean for hotels that serve people that make more money than them, they work in office buildings doing the jobs the suits would never ever do. They chat about their crappy jobs like that’s it...the highest they’ll ever reach. Their tone always says it, “this is my constant for the rest of my life”. They all have the jobs that serve the more well off...they’re at the bottom...and they’re all mostly headed for the same parts of the city at the end of their shifts. Some people don't really seem to make it in life, that's what I'm getting at. I might not even get this article published. I’m still living in the hood typing this right now, in my non­fancy pajamas. I didn't finish college, and it’s honestly not for me. I'm not liberal or conservative. I don't have a perfect smile headshot anywhere online. I'm unemployed, and I have no references to put down on any resume. I haven't read a book in four years and I don't read articles to look good for peers. No one in my neighborhood gives a crap about kissing Martha Stewart's butt. My office is a roller desk, my Star Wars Bookbag, and a lapdesk. I had to take time from building my writing career to buy those things. I don’t have mom and dad for financial backup. I’m not connected to anyone who’s doing anything like what I’ve been trying to do. No one’s cheering for me, poor or rich, living in this neighborhood or that. I’m not the type who gets to write for a publication. I’m not allowed to write for anyone. I’m not allowed to do anything. I end up homeless, hooked on drugs, silenced. But I dream of a two story house with a very specific design. Not in a mansion, I want neighbors close. I don’t like alcohol and I tried hookah twice and stopped (cough). I also have a lot of thoughts I need to let out publically so I can sleep at night. My voice doesn't get heard...not with the checkpoints in the world right now. It’s not just in the film industry...but anywhere. I haven’t even been able to get a good job to support my career (and I’m at a scary crossroads where time is more valuable than the money that I actually need right now). I might get talked about in the third person because "people like me" don't read certain publications, because my situations don't equal me indulging in the things I like. And it's weird saying all this because I really don't meet too many stereotypes. I’m no one’s type. I'm not hood enough for the south side and not uppity enough for some of the people up north. I know it seems like I’m going after people who live in better neighborhoods, but I am treated like crap on the south side...by all these people who don’t always get to renovate for fun. I get a lot of dirty looks down here. No one hears me out here either. I don’t talk, walk, or dress a certain way...so no one ever cares about my joy or pain. I’m ignored, so I have to make my own way. But to be fair, I have run into plenty of nice people in all the extremes of society. And see...that's the problem…this air that "certain people do certain things". You might think you see it when you travel around the neighborhoods in Chicago like me, but there’s still no truth in that statement. (And being a stereotype doesn’t make you evil either...I have to say that. But some people really just are outliers...human beings are more than trends and repeated data...and some of them need to stop being treated like they don’t matter in a set.)

What proof do I have for any of what I’m saying? Observation. Informally quantified information gathered from my eyes . I have looked up information on some of my favorite actors, directors, screenwriters. I read their biographies. I walk around the city and see who’s mostly doing what. I go online and see who’s doing what. There’s not much variation in what I see; it’s rare. Maybe I am wrong. But even you can do what I’ve done. It’s not like all these boxes are terrible either. If you’re happy with your life you have every right to be. But I don’t fit in these boxes, even though I have things in me. Going back to Home Depot. I actually applied for a job at the special services desk. I don’t know if they were paid more but it lined up with my office experience. The day I went in for my interview there was me and codenamed “F”. F was a chipper younger college student. Taller than me, beautiful sideswiped hair, with nice clothes. I was years out of an unfinished attempt at school, looking like I came out of a dusty crate, dealing with years of sleep deprivation and wearing clothes that weren’t as good as his. I did good in my interview and so did he I guess, but... F got the job I applied for. I was put in the stupid paint department. Now...to be fair...they were desperate to fill in the paint department (because it is such a crappy department at that store), I also mentioned that I like art. But long story short...I don’t think F ever showed up for his first day for the job I could have done. I never saw him around. I’m assuming...but I’m sure F had plenty of other opportunities falling out of the sky for him. F even shook my hand the day we got hired and said with glee “I guess we’re going to be co­workers”. He wasn’t making the best of a situation...he just didn’t realize I was still living in near poverty...that this place had very little to offer me. Fast forward and a new guy is put at the special services desk. He had a similar haircut as F and wore similar clothes. He even walked a bit like him. Because people like that belong there, and I belong where the dirt is. Even at Home Depot , something I didn’t care about, I was seen as not worth what I was going for. No offense. I'm over here waving my hands for a basic job...for advancement in a stupid industry, but I’m being overlooked because what? I don't talk a certain way, or dress a certain way, or because I have a certain history, because I was too poor to put my potential on an official document, because I have a little "me" everywhere I stand? I actually have a better chance trying to be a gangster rapper. I have a better chance making it in writing if I focus my work on race and growing up poor. But me trying to do what I'm trying to do? There's no way I could make an All­American TV show. There's no way I could possibly in a million trillion years have a good idea featuring science fiction. There's no way I'm serious when I send a query. I can’t be taken seriously, I didn’t go to college. I'm trying to get an article published...screw that right? I can’t be serious about my thousands of documents full of imagination and my thousands of hours of tiring days typing them...time I can’t get back...perfectly good youth I sacrificed. Even the things on my resume aren’t allowed to be true in the eyes of some people because I’m just not the type of person who does those things. I’m obviously a liar. I'm just supposed to work at Home Depot because that's the prepackaged box I belong in. That's my reward for being me; for being unorthodox, for valuing my life beyond a degree, for being bored soulless in school most days, for wanting to stop comfort eating because formal education stopped offering me much a few months into high school, for going after my life when my financial aid got cut off in college, for spending eight to sixteen hour days typing because

I wanted more for my life, for wanting to enjoy what happened after I woke up like other people. This is just what I deserve. I’m not supposed to chase after the things that make me happy. A person like me isn’t supposed to love the things I love and do the things I want to do. I’m obviously not supposed to enjoy my everyday life. Someone like me... that’s not my place . I don’t deserve the same things as people who go on different types of trips, go shopping, get sleep, smile, and live a life that’s good for them. I’m supposed to struggle, be poor, keep my head down, stay segregated, be miserable... duh Chris . What was I thinking? It’s just all my fault for having high hopes. I should have settled like the rest... I don't see any hope for me. At the rate I'm going, I'm going to end up homeless, but probably dead before that happens. I'm only twenty­four and I feel like I've died a million times. My hair is thinning because of stress. My sleep deprivation's made me overweight...also crazy most days. I look like crap. I've lost time I can never live. These days my head is always light and I can't move too fast. I've done all that just attempting to live a life. I'm numbed out most days but...I still try for that 0.05% chance that today's the day. I have been going crazy these days...thinking about everything I want to do, everything I've tried to do. I'm pissed about the business plan that was never given a shot. I'm pissed at all the blank stares I get when I ask a place if they're hiring. I'm pissed at the disgusted attitudes I get over the phone because I’m calling of all people. I've never felt weak for things I can’t help. I've never let the judgements of people I don’t respect get to me. But in my eyes individuality is a huge factor in why I’m in a crappy place in life these days. I’m not going to say I’m a victim either. Have I suffered? Yeah, of course. But I’m not going to feel bad about myself because some people in this world have a narrow view of the world around them. A lot of the people saying "yes" and "no", the people at the top, the people writing checks aren't drawing from all the people they could draw from. And as angry as I am at how hard things are for me...as much emptiness that’s been carved in my existence...I also see these people as victims. Some of these presidents, CEOs, these heads...they’re poor souls. That they’re so brainwashed and mindless. That they're not mentally capable of seeing all the beauty in this world. I want to mention this now, but yes...I want this published to help with my writing career. These thoughts are real, but I basically type articles worth of stuff on my Tumblr all the time. I thought maybe I could try again to...get my voice heard. If anyone wants to invest in the TV shows I'm losing my youth over...I'm here. If anyone in Hollywood wants to contact me...I really won't stop you. I could’ve typed this on my Tumblr...but I need some movement here... Whatever potential I’ve had is no good to some of this world. Maybe if I met a certain outline the website I came up with a few years ago would have been given more of a chance. I guess you’re not supposed to live with regrets, but that moment does haunt me at times. My idea wasn’t stupid. I can say that without going full Kanye West, I can say that as a matter of fact. Look at Justin Bieber, look at Lena Dunham...their lives got a huge boost because their work was online. But I was looked at like an idiot that day in class. Even the work I’ve done in the past five years, which in reality is a combination of fifteen years of creating, I still get looked at like an idiot. All I have

stays with me. I really hate certain statistics, humans as numbers...but based on them: with all the combinations of things in my life so far...any greatness I thought I had is going to live and die in my daydreams. Statistically I don't get my ideas shared. I've barely played any video games these past five years. I haven't been shopping for clothes in a while. I wish I looked good in the mirror. I wish my hair was healthy again. I wish I wasn't overweight. I wish my mind was sharp again. I wish I could get some sleep. I'd really like to take a late night walk, I haven't really seen the stars since I started on this stupid writing career. I wish I was nineteen again. I wish I had a pair of cowboy boots. I think a good sound system might make my mood better some days. I really think the TV shows I’ve made on should be on the air...not for career...but because they excited me once. I wish I could walk to a diner. I'm actually really hungry right now and wish I had some chunky soup (it's 4:55 AM...I've been up for hours). I'm a bit numb these days but I think people are supposed to live. I think it's the right thing to do. The point of that last paragraph is that...I wasn't born to be some warrior. I'm not really happy that I'm writing this. I’m not happy about my experiences. I’m not happy that I have things to say about this. I have other things I think should be happening. I'm depressed as hell these days but I used to have high hopes. Am I really supposed to spend my whole life fighting? There does seem to be this idea that poor people exist to talk about being poor, and that Native Americans can only talk about how hard it is to be a mega minority, and that women have some obligation to bitch about sexism. But I'm not here as some damn minority or as a person who grew up in a ghetto ass neighborhood. I'm not writing this to give in to these annoying trendy hyperliberal articles about race, class, gender, or any of that. I'm writing this as a human just like you...because you're human just like me. We're both equals...and we always have been. I'm not weaker than you or stronger than you because of my path so far. I just need us all to do better. I want to be able to talk to you about something else because nothing else is on my mind these days. Because all I do is work, attempt, try, and suffer. I am... intensely numb these days. I've pretty much given up on happiness from desire. But I think people are supposed to live. That paragraph also says something else. I keep mentioning my writing career, but that’s not what my life is all about. I’ve liked stories all these years because it was fun. I wanted to tell stories because it seemed to make my life better. But I don’t get any joy sharing that with just me. Even if I trusted the people I knew...that’s not enough. And there’s a lot I’m not saying about my life for the sake of focus, but kicking off this writing thing would make waking up something I could own. My life’s also not about money. I do want money, but only because the world is set up like it is. I want to be able to buy a nice house and do whatever I want. I want to be able to eat healthy food. I want to be able to go to the movies all the time and not pick and choose throughout the year based on my bank account. I want to be able to afford to get from point A to B. It sucks but my success with writing is a gateway to other things. Yes the stories exist for their own sake, but being able to live life the way you want...need to...it opens up a lot of doors just for how you spend your time.

The way I see things, in the world of opportunity there are all these “ideas”. Many presidents, CEOs, bosses, and heads of all sorts stay true to these ideas because following/meeting those ideas helped to get them where they are now. These systems sometimes require a person to be a certain way so it's the only way they can succeed; these systems are very exclusive. Some of these systems serve some people but exclude others (or just make it really difficult for them), willfully or not. I don't mean that in a conspiracy theorist kind of way, but just look at job descriptions/expectations, the requirements to get into the best schools, the rules to join a certain club or social society. For some people they just won't meet the things listed, or they have to work way harder than others to meet those things. Some people don’t have the money when it’s required, they don’t have a personality trait, they don’t have a certain amount of experience, they haven’t been active at something in a certain amount of time, etc. Some of those things can be gained, but sometimes at a sacrifice of some sort; examples being time a person can never get back or a person’s soul. Some of these ideas will never favor certain people, and that’s a real problem. It doesn’t mean the people who meet these ideas are bad people of course, but the same is true for the people who are outliers. At the end of the day everyone’s dreams are their dreams…and it hurts knowing some people are told “no” just because they don’t fall into the usual “ideas”. These days I'm giving in to the crappy truth that I was never going to be accepted by the world of formal education, no matter how much I actually loved learning. I wasn't a lot of people’s idea of a scholar, formal education was never meant for my mind. When I was sick of being broke after high school I don't think I was ever going to be hired for the jobs I applied for, no matter how excited or able I was. My documented self doesn’t and probably never will line up with the ideas as to who to call in for an interview. I'm now pretty sure all the avenues in place to get in Hollywood will never open up to me. All the things true about me don’t equal the idea of “who’s Hollywood” to certain hive minds. My whole life I've been told that things would be harder for me because of my race, that people were out to get me; but it's something I never gave into and still don't believe in. Are their racists? Yeah, but most people aren’t that way. I also can't say that there’s some secret legion out to get me because I'm "poor". There's good in the world; there always has been and always will be. I won't give in to this idea that the world is evil. Yes, most of my interactions with the world so far haven’t been kind, but there is kindness in the world. But as much good as I know there is in people, there are some narrow minded people out there, there are some really judgmental people. There are people who are prejudice beyond whatever form of prejudice you or I have been told to look out for growing up. I think these narrow minded people act as individuals , but are still the victims of group thought. They do what “other people like them” do. This idea becomes a real problem when these same people happen to be the only ones who can help you...the key holders to the gates you need to pass. I’ve never regretted being me either. I’ve had low self­esteem plenty of times, I have regrets, but I never hated the truths of my own soul. I'm me, and I can't be anyone else. That doesn't make my

dreams and desires invalid, that doesn’t make the whole of me invalid. Do I have some things I could maybe improve on? Sure. Are there things for me to learn? Plenty. But at the end of the day my individuality means that I fall outside of a lot of molds. I'm never going to meet a lot of these ideas and requirements to get to any of the places I've been trying to get to. It’s not the same as saying there isn't a way to do what I want to do. It's saying that in order to do it I'll have to go through things other people don't have to go through to get there. I really, truly have to find a way because it's not there for me already. I have to say this too...if things do fall out of the sky for you...I don't hate you. I mean…that’s great. I’m pretty glad you’re happy. I’m glad you have all these fun memories, pictures of trips you’ve been on, that you’re comfortable with your surroundings. I’m glad you’ve been around things that serve you well. I’m not talking about career or anything like that, but just you being able to live and do great things on a daily basis. I’m happy other people are able to be happy, it’s the way it should be; I just wish there wasn’t so much exclusiveness to it. I’m maybe jealous of you. I want what you have, have had all this time. I’m glad you have these things but I’m mentally messed up that I’ve been working so long and hard to get them too. Life is supposed to happen. I’m just upset that I’ve had to spend hours a day...working all these years while you’ve been out there living. Even if I can be happy for other people...I’m just not happy, I haven’t been for longer than you know. I’ve never been surrounded by the things that serve me well. I’m full of emptiness; that I’ve wasted so much of my life trying to live, reaching for the things that might make me happy, but not getting them. I’ve failed many times, and I keep failing on a daily basis to salvage my own life. Look...I’m thankful for what I have, but life is made of many things, and it’s not rare that I feel depressed about all the times I’ve tried to make things better but had another year pass without a single door opening. And see...that’s the thing...I have tried. Someone might ask “Why didn’t you just get a job and move out?” I’m not that dumb, come one. I’ve tried that multiple times over the years but no one wanted to hire me. “Why are you still in Chicago and not California or New York?” It’s the same thing. Look…I can barely call myself middle class. I haven’t grown up dirt poor, but I have been fed on food stamps...I have been told “no” plenty of times when I wanted something. And that’s dependency...but my own bank account...”LOL” as they say. Some things in life take money. I could do the whole starving artist thing, but I’d literally be starving. My relatives also aren’t really that supportive in a lot of ways, and friends...I wasted that word on too many people. I’d honestly have nowhere else to go if things got to a low point. You need support in life and I’m a one man cheerleader...I have been. “Why didn’t you go to college?” Oh my gosh, did you know that takes money too!? Crazy right!? I actually made plans to transfer to Columbia in Chicago; I even took a tour and asked about what I had to do to get in. But my financial aid got cut off. “Then Chris...just get a job”. I went over this, no one wanted to hire me, and unfortunately none of my great ideas over the years would generate income...I’d have to have money to execute them...and I’d have to get that money from people who have money. You know what I mean? Sometimes it really does take money to make money, have doors open to open even more. “Maybe you’d do better if you relaxed.” I’ve thought of this, trust me. I have worked myself too hard over the years, so much that my body is in terrible shape, but I had no choice. The main thing stopping me is time. My relatives threaten to kick me out all the time. I’m also getting older every

day. I’ve spent all this time around people and places I don’t like, and they continue to be present on a daily basis. I work so hard because there’s not much here around me...every day is soul sucking. There is no “meantime”, I need things to change now. That’s been the case since I started this years ago. If I’m struggling to open doors working eight to sixteen hour days, how much would I lose if I worked even less? I can’t take a day off, my situations won’t let me. I’ve tried to force myself to watch movies and TV but it never works, my mind won’t let me relax. I have shelves full of fiction that have collected dust for years. I also can’t afford a vacation...obviously. Even if I was given a free vacation...that’s still time I can’t afford. Time moves regardless of me. So now that I’ve answered your questions I’m going to start talking again. I’ve tried a lot of things to make this work, I’m even trying to get this article published. I try and try; I come up with new plans, I look at things from all sorts of views. I execute over and over again, but I can’t get the iron walls to open up for me. That is the only way in. I believe in the idea of making your own way, and I gave myself permission to go after greatness a long time ago; but when you’re trying to join a team...you’re not a part of it until they put you on their roster. Get it? Sometimes there is no way to drill a hole in the wall, sometimes the gate has to be opened from the other side. I have kind of given up on happiness. I can’t get these past few years back. I can’t be thirteen, sixteen, eighteen, twenty, twenty­one, or twenty­three again. I didn’t have the things I needed to enjoy my life in grade or high school. Then I’ve spent the past few years after high school typing, working more and more as the days have gone on. I was trying to enjoy what was left of my youth, and I’ve sacrificed more of it than I’ll ever get back. So in a lot of ways I’ve already failed. Even if I feel like I’ve failed, it doesn’t negate what I wanted. There are a lot of people who want things... So that’s me. Now to you... So how do we distribute happiness? I think it could be solved with pure intention; people just thinking a certain way and having certain ideas that affect them. We need the people who have a lifetime subscription of opportunity to see the world a little differently. I don’t know your name or how you look. I don’t know where you’re at or what you have planned. I just want you to think, give you a perspective from someone who lives a different life from you. Because I don’t get heard often...I’m only talked about from a distance. I need the people who have been shopping lately and didn't break the bank...people who smile more than other people because things are easier for you in one way or another...I need you to open your eyes to all of humanity and realize we're all people. I need you to realize that many different types of people can do some of the same things. People make mistakes; I won’t hate you if you thought differently before reading this. But the sad thing is that if this article I'm writing gets published, if it hits the hearts of people, there's a good chance that some of the people who might retweet this are some of the same people who have rejected and ignored me in the past. So don't clap for me yet. You might be one of the reasons I'm in this crappy state. Not always directly, but just through the way you’d think if you saw me. But there's also a chance you're not one of those

people...you're out there. I also need people in crappy positions to stop settling for “this is it”, to stop cheering for scraps. As generations go on, older generations pass on their milk; they give good advice, methods, ideas, lessons, wisdom. They also pass on their poison; bad ideas, bad methods, bad advice, stupidity. Sometimes people drink that poison and ruin themselves as people. They take on the same bad traits as people who have gotten what they have in the past. They chip away and mold themselves into something in the name of “growing up”. We need to do better. There are ideas in place that are absolutely brilliant, but who says you have to do everything the same as they've been done before? Who says you have to be content working at McDonald's? But then again...who says you have to see the person working at McDonald's as less human than you...who says that that person giving you your coffee doesn't deserve a better life? I'm not trying to villainize anyone living better than me, I just want you to be aware of the world around you, and be kinder in your hearts. I even bet you know things I don't. Not because of your opportunities, but because you're you . We're all people. There's a good chance you're beautiful in some form. I want us to be able to share a smile. I want us to be able to share the same space. I want us to see each other as equals in regard and regardless of what we have in common. I want us to be able to love everything about each other. Work...jobs...money...they're only one part of a whole at the end and during the day. If you can't fall in love with a person with less than you...then you need to do some soul searching. But back to the point...back to the positive vibes. I want love to be everywhere. Maybe it's selfish, but a kid from the north and south side of Chicago should have the same chances to do the same things. They should be given the same chance to do the same things even if their path walked is a little different under their feet. Even if they talk or dress a little different, even if they’re surrounded by different things. Screw the molds guys, sincerely. If a girl raised on a farm, with a "hillbilly" voice and overalls wants to open up a coffee shop in a big city...she's not stupid. If her ideas are good...don't reject her because she's not like other people who've done the same thing, because she's "not the type". And to be fair, if a suburban kid who speaks the most proper English wants to be a rapper...give him a chance and don’t shoot him down at the door. We're all people. We should all get to occupy all the different beautiful spaces in the world, with all the things that makes each one of us us . Let's open doors and arms for the beauty in all people, let’s think a little differently when we look out into the world all around us. If “someone like me” can maybe have potential, be a good person, be your friend, put good feelings in your heart (maybe)...consider that “someone like them” could make you feel the same thing.

An update (13 days later: June 20, 2016) I finished the first draft of this thirteen days ago late at night (early morning). I hoped to end this on a good note, but I just had the life sucked out of me this morning. It kind of backs up what I've been saying. I just got a piece of mail from One Summer Chicago saying I got offered a position. Not helping them run things, but as one of their hood kids in need. One Summer Chicago was basically created to cut back on "kids in the street". It’s one of those things for "poor/underprivileged kids", the same ones talked about in the third person in news articles, by offering them jobs. That's what I'm being labeled as by being offered employment through them. If you think I'm joking read this press release. Look at the language: http://www.cityofchicago.org/city/en/depts/mayor/press_room/press_releases/2016/march/one­summer­chicago­announcement.html That press release isn't meant for me to read. That press release is for everyone else. These jobs aren’t meant for more well off people. You don’t hear about keeping well off kids “safe and engaged”. Do you see the phrase "at­risk youth", third person? That's me. That’s what I’m seen as. I'm not being offered a paycheck because I'm seen as able, I'm being offered a paycheck because I'm considered lowly. Then to top it off...the place they want to put me at is dead in the hood, like that's really where I want to be. Meanwhile, when I try to put myself in the company of where the roses grow I’m looked at like an idiot, rejected almost instantly. I'm feeling mighty depressed right now. I was supposed to be shooting for my TV show this summer...last summer...the summer before that. But once again I get to be put in my place while everyone else has fun this summer. If I didn't have obligation or some form of truth I'd just kill myself right now...I feel terrible. I've applied for so many jobs, tried to contact all these people in Hollywood...but this is whose response I'm worthy of? This is the regard I get? That piece of mail was a low blow. Just think about what I’ve said...okay? For my sake and the people who have just had it harder. I don’t need you to march through the streets or put a bumper sticker on your car...I just need you to read this and get something from it. Enjoy your day.

An afterthought (4 months later: October 20, 2016) At this point I’m bitter, depressed. You know how I mentioned my hair thinning? Well, it’s started falling out. Anyway, I thought about something today... The upper circles of success are addicted to their stereotypes. They look for this one set image when they grant/deny opportunity. They want you to dress a certain way, talk a certain way, live a certain way, have a certain haircut, have a certain personality, have a certain life so far. But that limited image is only about 5%­10% of all the amazing people in our country/world. The world outside has so much variety it in it, there’s so much a person could be, and people are turned down chances for being outside of this limited image of “worthy”. We only hand out opportunity to about 5%­10% of people who deserve it. So the world is only 5%­10% percent of what it should be. Think about that. There are songs you haven’t heard, movies you haven’t seen, books you haven’t read, technology you haven’t used, things you’ve never experienced, all because elitism says only certain people are allowed to contribute. Every industry, sector, market, and field is at 5%­10%. That’s not okay. Brilliance can come in many forms; there doesn’t have to be just one. I’m sick of the world being minimized.

Original Query (minus my contact) [Publication Name] [Editor’s Address] July 3, 2016 To [Editor’s Name]: Hi, my name is Chris. I'm writing to you with the request to publish something I've written about just who gets doors opened for them. It’s titled Can You Be [Variable] and Still Get To Live A Life?

Some people aren’t given a shot, or more that...it is a million times harder for them to make it to where they want to go. Statistically (and really through basic observation) people with certain things in common don’t make it to a great point in life. It’s the idea that “certain people do certain things” and “certain people occupy certain spaces”, without much variation to those rules. There are people in this world who “stay in their place”, and because of that their words aren’t heard by the masses. They’re talked about in the third person in news articles, journals, in education, or not all. They just never speak for themselves.

Unfortunately I’m one of these voices...that’s how I’ve been feeling lately. I’m “he”/”them”/”people in these situations”/”people in this neighborhood”/etc. I never get to say “I”/”me”/”my”. I also never get to be the one to lead the conversation. If I ever do get to speak in the first person it’ll most likely be because some well paid journalist, news person, or academic needs my words for their aim. I can never say “I” for me. I feel like this because I’ve been trying to get my voice heard in the film and TV industry for years with intense resistance. Rejection is very normal in Hollywood, but at this point I don’t see it as a normal case of rejection. I’m calling it an iron wall. To make it relatable to you, imagine you tell someone “I’m a journalist”. Despite that truth, you’re told over and over “no you’re not”...and your argument for the truth is given no regard. That’s the phantom response I’ve been given.

At this point I think one of the reasons I get such a cold shoulder from some of these guys and girls in the industry is because I don’t meet the stereotypes of “Hollywood”. It’s not about race, it’s about all the things that surround me and make me me . I’m from the south side of Chicago (the hood...the ghetto...where all the shootings on

the news happen), I don’t have a college degree, I’m unemployed. I talk how I talk and look how I look (clothing, haircut, etc). I’m too liberal for conservatives and too conservative for liberals. I’m inspired by what’s come before but I’m also willing to abandon the standards if I feel it’s the right thing to do. With all the things surrounding me I’m a person who’s been told indirectly that I deserve to work making $10 an hour for the rest of my life, and maybe even become homeless because that’s just my place. My thousands of documents of imagination, my thousands of hours of tiring days typing them, even the things on my resume aren’t allowed to exist in the eyes of others because I’m not the type of person who these things are true for. I also don’t meet the stereotype of journalist. I’m not the type of person you see in a picture perfect headshot above an article. Here I am anyway.

What I have is about nine pages long, eleven point font. It’s one part information, one part story, and one part appeal. Here I talk about my own rejections, and what kind of people I see in the world who “make it” on a regular basis. It’s not completely personal either, and this really isn’t a vanity piece. It’s also not about screenwriting and Hollywood. I talk about what I see looking out into the whole of society, the idea of “who’s doing what”. I use these observations to put a bigger idea in the reader’s head. The shallow judgments in the world, and how they affect society. It’s also not just a huge mass of complaining. The end idea is positivity. I want to get people to think, and look at the world around them differently, in a good way.

I'd love for this to be a centerpiece of sorts, even though I know there’s a small chance of that. I’m happy to have this published anyway. I don't need payment for this, I'm not trying to sneak into your staff, and I'm not trying to advance in journalism. I just want this out there. These words are sincere, could have easily gone on my ignored Tumblr, but I think getting this published would help a lot with presenting myself to Hollywood. That's why I'm going through all this trouble. If what I have to say here interests you, I can also offer you something else based on what I've written: the chance to interview me (whether my article is published or not). Maybe someone in your workplace has a few things in common with me, but being where I am now...I have words they might not have. I have a first person account of things in the present . That's also true for what I already have written.

I’d love it if you read over what I'm sending with this query. It would be great for you/readers/the public to hear directly from people beyond the degrees, the mainstream, and celebrity voices; the usual. Give this a chance. I’m not saying this in a proud way, but I feel good about what I’ve written and I think you’ll like what I have to say too. You won’t get a story like this often, not with the words I can give. It sucks that I’m able to write about this, but I’m confident that this is a good piece; to help with my numbed out efforts in screenwriting, your publication, and for anyone this might get to. I'm open to suggestions if any changes are recommended for publication. I’m sending a mass query. If you want to take on this piece please contact me before publishing. I hope you'll consider what I have. Thanks for reading this so far. Have a nice one.

Christopher Williams/Christopher Siderreal Chicago, IL, USA LinkedIn: https://www.linkedin.com/in/theneonblueowl