Originally posted at Proj:Pedal...

I have the day off... and I would like to go to bed tonight with the comforting feeling that I "did something" with my time. So I've been starring at my computer screen for the past hour, trying to write a letter - a letter that would eventually be sent out asking for support. I'm not very good at these things though, asking for money that is, I don't usually have that much trouble with the letter itself.

Luckily, Chris, a friend of Amanda's, who has worked for a handful of major non-profit organizations, has agreed to put it in her two cents - so I have that working for me, I just have to get a rough draft to her first.

But the real problem is not that I have to write this letter, it's that I have to write this letter while I find myself editing work, while I keep working on scripted-ideas for the film, while I call the landlord to get a plumber to come and fix the garbage disposal. I'm trying to prioritize, but I keep second-guessing which step I should be taking first?

As for the editing-work situation, that is very desperately needed - proj:pedal isn't the only thing around here with empty pockets. Saying that I'm currently broke, or living check to check is an understatement. Thankfully, I've been in worse shape before so I can still sleep at night, I try to remind myself that when I decided to move from Michigan to Los Angeles, I had no money, I was actually in debt. But in a month's time I had pulled it all together and managed to raise $3,000 with one editing job, which was just enough to start a new life out west.

Plus listening to my iTunes Mix: "if you don't think this is the greatest mix ever... I will fight you", helps keep my spirits up. I have some Spiritualized [that's very fitting] in there, along with some Pixies, Dinosaur Jr., Love, and The Replacements... to name a few. It's very therapeutic to step back from my "to-do" list and just close my eyes, put on some headphones, and relive the most inspiring moments of my first bike trip: Riding down the center line of a never-ending stretch of road somewhere in North Dakota, the sound of the knee-high grass fields swaying in the wind, not a car in sight, the sun sinking into a pink sky - just dreaming of the ocean. Okay, this is starting to sound a little too much like poetry, which is my cue to go do something more constructive.