Comments:
The question: what have I been up to since 1999?
Well, for those as disinterested in my life story as I am...nope, sorry. Too pessimistically melodramatic. Let me start again. Uh...
Okay. Concerning those who would appreciate a digest of my life, I give you this. For a deeper, more terrifying immersion into this topic, read my autobiography.
In June of 1999, I graduated, despite having grossly exceeded my absentee allowance. Thank you, Bloom Carroll, for the gracious gesture of a diploma bearing my name.
Because Josh Patton dominated my ASVAB score by 7%, I opted against joining the military forces even with a recruiter's assurance that I could be anything I wanted to be (because "could" doesn't mean "will"). After Josh's impressive display of vocational aptitude, I considered other avenues of interest and pursued none of them. Then, years after graduation, approximately two, Kyle Leland Heiberger (the names of certain individuals in this summary will be altered for their protection. Kyle is not one of them.) announced to me that he would be attending a school called Full Sail in Orlando, Florida. Having minimal direction in life, I looked into the opportunity this education may provide. The entertainment industry captures my interest more so than any other, so I pursued it. That year and a half was the greatest time of my known existence. I had some of my closest friends, some of my family, some very large cockroaches, and some of the worst-tasting water, all in my quaint corner of Orlando. Oh, and the greatest 16-player Halo matches. To top it off, having classes and labs at any time during a 24-hour period made it difficult to hold a job, so I just ignored that responsibility during my stay in Florida. After acquiring a fifty kay debt, I packed it up and moved back to Ohio. It was well worth it!
Anyway, the demo reel I produced as my final project was sent to thirty-some animation houses throughout the U.S. and Europe. One of these companies, a little outfit in Sweden, actually took interest in what I had to offer. A phone interview took place, and, shortly thereafter, I was packing yet again. My trek had upgraded from a cross-country drive to an international flight. Hej, Sverige!
As depressing as it was to leave my world behind, I still harbored a mounting excitement for the experience ahead. Being that I had two days to kill before my first day with my new family, I eagerly sought a source of entertainment around the city in which I had arrived: Stockholm. I thought I'd begin low-key, and since I didn't know what the hell most people were saying, I chose to go with something that didn't involve verbal interaction. I elected Gripsholm Castle. Before nightfall, I took a train northwest, past the company's town, then bussed over to a hotel near Idre's Ski Resort. The following morning, I skied on snow unlike any I've ever experienced. My ventures prior were limited to Ohio slopes only, which, of course, don't qualify as anything more than large hills. That afternoon, following a few microbrews, I headed southeast to the company's town.
Now, because of the events to follow, I will not release the name of the company with which I was involved. Instead, I will address it by the name of what I assumed was a local hero, Zorn. My affiliation with Zorn was nothing close to what I had anticipated, and my foreboding introduction into the company was the catalyst to the dark weeks to follow; the dismal antithesis to the lighthearted days of the Sunshine State.
Ah, but I portend doom and gloom, and it wasn’t all that nonsense. Just to have the opportunity to get my foot in the door with this industry was a godsend. After spending a night in a little hostel called something like “dog’s feces” in English, according to the owner (the Swedish name I don’t recall, and, in giving her the benefit of the doubt, I’ll note here she may have actually said “dog’s feets” in her bad English way. There were, after all, two paw prints on her sign), my Big Day had finally come. I was up, alert, and on my way to introduce myself to Zorn!
Zorn, to my chagrin, was not the grandiose Mecca of Modern Computer Graphics I had envisioned. It was a single-floor stone building much like many of the others in the area. This one was only noticeably different because of the bum urinating by a trash bin on the corner of the structure which, I went ahead and presumed, was not a permanent adornment, anyway. With a heavy heart, I passively proceeded to the insipid entrance and opened the dull door to this prosaic place.
My growing anxiety was immediately swept away, as though the pressure-induced wind in the entryway removed the burden for me, like a restaurant hostess welcoming a guest. The interior did not, by any measure, reflect the exterior. Contrarily, it was impressive!
