My second grade teacher gave us what I believe is the most difficult assignment one can give to a student in the second grade: she asked us to draw a picture of what we wanted to be when we grew up. I mustered all the foresight an eight-year old could muster, and quickly put pencil to paper. There were no second-thoughts; not a single hesitation. I was a boy possessed! Whatever this great calling was had completely taken over my body, and my tiny little arm was exposing its (and my) purpose to the world. When I had finished, I could barely remember what had happened to me… but I knew it was profound. I picked up my drawing, and sheepishly walked up to my teacher to hand in my soul-baring masterpiece. She gave it a quick glance, then looked back at me and said: “You want to be a garbage truck?”

It wasn’t a garbage truck. It was a recycling truck, and - truth be told - I didn’t even know if such a thing actually existed. I learned two very hard truths that day: I had no idea what I wanted to be, and I knew that I wasn’t cut out to be an artist. But I loved art. At least that’s what I kept telling myself. Comic books were high art to my eight-year old mind. Throughout my formative years, I formed an attachment to comic books, and comic books acted as my gateway into science fiction and horror movies. To make a very long story short: I ended up taking a Film Arts class in high school, and I was hooked.

I love the movies, and I love talking about the movies. As a result, I ended up getting a job in Television, and spent nearly a decade working on various film projects while working at Coles bookstores. Today, I am a Communications Solutions Specialist at Indigo who moonlights as a filmmaker. When I’m alone, I often think about how my younger self would react if he was told - mid-drawing, possessed as he was by whatever lesser god took control of his body on that fateful day in second grade – that he could never be a recycling truck. Then I smile and think: this is so much better.