'Captured My Imagination'

Sixteen years ago my brother took me to see the new movie from the guy who made "Clerks" and "Mallrats." With that first viewing of "Chasing Amy," I became a life-long Kevin Smith fan.

Earlier this year, I read Smith's latest book (which I wrote a bit about here), which reinforces the message he shares in most of his talks, podcasts and whatnot—to follow your dreams. This week, Smith posted a long entry on his blog about following his latest dream, in this case turning a story he and producing partner Scott Mosier talked about on their podcast into a quickly hammered-out screenplay into a movie that will being shooting this fall.

To sum up, he wrote, "The moral of the story, kids? Chase every dopey dream you ever have, so long as it doesn't involve hurting or killing anybody. You never know where it will lead you."

At nearly 36, I'm trying to do that more, to follow through on any of the millions of little ideas that have spun through my head and turn them into reality. I'm currently filling up a notebook with the beginnings of something. I've also decided what project I'm going to start once I end this project in a few weeks.

I don't know what will come of any of this but the act of putting pen to paper, of seeing words fill a page, of the ideas moving from my head out into the physical world is so exciting. Stay tuned.

'Some Have Gone & Some Remain'

A burger place I used to go to all the time in high school has closed. I was sad to the see that the sign had changed, even though I hadn't eaten there in years.

I think that happens a lot, people lamenting the loss of a once-treasured thing that they haven't thought about or visited in ages. I roll my eyes when I read about throngs of people flocking to get their last meal from some local favorite restaurant that's closing down after falling on hard times—if everyone loved the place so much, business wouldn't have dipped and the place wouldn't need to close.

This impulse isn't saved only for places, it also happens with relationships. "We really should get together more often" is one of my least-favorite phrases. Like with the burger place, if you value a relationship, put the time in, pay a visit, make a call, do something.

Part of getting older means saying goodbye to places and relationships that once meant so much to you. Some of those partings are dramatic and traumatic that you're left with scars, while others happen so gradually and so easily that you barely notice the loss.

I'm not sure which is worse, knowing you're going to lose something that matters or realizing much later that it's long gone. I would like to have more control in both situations though, to make more of an effort, to put in the time and the work necessary so that if another of my favorite places closes or another friend and I part ways, at least I'll know I did what I could to keep them around as long as possible.

'Fine & Dandy'

The last concert I went to was Green Day in March, entirely too long ago. I have two concerts coming up, back-to-back, later this month—Weezer on the 26th and John Mayer on the 27th. To prepare, I loaded my Weezer and John Mayer albums onto my iPod.

On the drive home from yoga tonight, Weezer's "Pork & Beans" came through on shuffle. It was exactly what I needed to hear, so I repeated it. The song's lyrics were written in response to a meeting the band's members had with their record label about doing more-commercial work and celebrates self-love and acceptance.

"I don't give a hoot about what you think," Rivers Cuomo sings in the chorus. I thought that growing older gives confidence and that you stop caring so much about other people's opinions. Sadly, that's not the case.

I don't want to apologize for myself, my life, my decisions or my circumstances. I don't want to be embarrassed about who I am or ashamed about who I'm not. I don't want anyone else's opinion of me have more weight than my opinion of myself. Like Rivers sang, I want to be "fine and dandy with the me inside."

I do feel more comfortable in my skin at 35 than I did at 15 or 25, but there are still times when I waver. Like the guys in Weezer, I know the key is remembering who I am and staying true to that, then all that outside noise will quiet down.

'Time Won't Leave Me as I Am'

I've known U2 most of my life but didn't become a true fan until 2001 and the Elevation Tour. Since then, the band and its music have played a big role in my life, sparking big adventures and great friendships. Carlos, this week's contributor, is one of those friends I made thanks to U2. Below, he reflects on his life at 35.

Your name Carlos G.

What year did you turn 35? 10 years ago

Where were you living then? Fontana, California

What were you doing then? Working for the same company I work now.

What big personal milestones happened when you were 35? Married for 11 years, second baby born.

What major events happened in the world that year? U2 played in the Super Bowl's half time show....

What are your favorite memories of being 35? Having my second kid born, Ian.

What did you like best about yourself at that age? The fact that I still felt like a teenager.

What did you like least about yourself at that age? The fact that I thought I was still a teenager.

What was the most surprising thing about being 35? That adults in their 30s and 40s can be as immature as children.

If you could go back to that age knowing what you know now, what would you do differently? Be more patient.

What advice can you offer to other 35-year-olds? If it does not feel right, don't do it.

Is there anything else you'd like to share about your experiences being 35? Take more pictures and video, you will regret it if you don't.

'I Love You and I Like You'

This week I went through the four DVD sets of "Parks & Recreation," my favorite show on TV. There's so much I adore about the show, the relationships at the top of that list. I've written in the past about how much I dislike the will-they-or-won't-they plots on TV shows, but I've been 100-percent pro Leslie and Ben throughout their story arc on "Parks & Rec." They're one of my top TV couples.

My favorite thing about Leslie and Ben is that they really like each other. It should be a given that two people in a couple would actually like each other, but in TV and movies that seems to be the exception and not the rule. I didn't watch "Everybody Loves Raymond" because I couldn't stand the sniping and put downs. I walked out of "Before Midnight" because the constant picking got me.

Why is it so rare for pop culture couples to like each other?

Sadly, in real life, I've known a number of couples who don't seem to like each other either. I don't get it. Why be with someone who you think is stupid? Why spend your time with a person who's every action drives you crazy? Why link your life to a person you don't respect?

Having never been married, I'll admit I'm probably a little naïve about the inner workings of a long-term relationship. I do understand that, like all human relationships, romantic relationships have ups and downs, but even on the worst day, I want to believe that like will keep everything afloat.

For every negative example in pop culture and in life, I know of so many more real and fictional couples that love each other, are devoted to one another and, above all, really like each other. That's what I want. I want to be with someone who I think is the coolest guy on the planet, someone who I think is smart and talented and decent and good-hearted, someone I like and love.

'Did I mention that I make really neat pie charts?'

Throughout the course of the day, I'll wonder why I haven't found a job yet. I've been lucky to have plenty of jobs to apply for, I just haven't gotten many bites. Why? What am I doing wrong? What should I do differently? What tricks can I try?

The other night when pondering these ceaseless questions, another question came to me, one much more essential than all the others I've been dwelling on. Am I ready? If I got a job offer tomorrow, am I prepared to settle back into the office environment, the commute, the dress codes, the assignments, the deadlines, the full nine?

I believe I am, believe that if I got that call I'd be ready to get up early in the morning, my outfit laid out, my gas tank full, my breakfast made. I want the assignments, the tasks and the to-do lists. I want to learn the schedule and meet my deadlines. I want to be back to work and am ready to go.

How do I express that readiness to the recruiters, HR administrators, editors and computer programs currently considering the applications I've submitted? I can't call each of these people, can't go to all of their offices, bursting with enthusiasm, "What can I do for you? Do you need any help? Let me get that for you." Somehow, I have to figure out how to tell them that I'm done sitting on the bench and ready to be put in the game in just a few hundred characters.

Maybe if I keep repeating to myself and to anyone who'll listen that I'm ready, I'm ready, I'm ready, I'll get the chance to prove how ready I am.

'If I could offer you only one tip for the future ...'

This morning on the radio there was a discussion about commencement speakers and how some conservatives were complaining about the liberal bent of speakers at the top universities in the country. The discussion made me think about the speaker at my college graduation ceremony (not a political figure and so terribly boring), speakers at other ceremonies I've attended (my brother had Nic Cage and he was incredible) and speeches from notables I've read or heard.

I don't remember political messages in any. I also don't remember much decent, practical advice in any of the speeches. Most follow the same "reach for the stars" theme. If the speeches aren't delivering good advice, what's the point? I graduated on a quite warm May morning, the sun climbing higher and higher in the sky, baking the graduates and their families as the speakers droned on for what felt like hours. Shouldn't I have gotten some pearls out of the deal?

Since I'm not a politician, celebrity or mega-successful businessperson, I'll probably never be asked to give a commencement speech. If some universal twist did offer me the opportunity, I'd go for honesty rather than generic inspiration because I think if you've made it through college, you've already learned some hard-won lessons and deserve the truth. I'd probably opt for something along the lines of the Daria's speech at her high school graduation:

"Um, thank you. I'm not much for public speaking, or much for speaking, or, come to think of it, much for the public. And I'm not very good at lying. So let me just say that, in my experience, high school sucks. If I had to do it all over again, I'd have started advanced placement classes in preschool so I could go from eighth grade straight to college. However, given the unalterable fact that high school sucks, I'd like to add that if you're lucky enough to have a good friend and a family that cares, it doesn't have to suck quite as much. Otherwise, my advice is: stand firm for what you believe in, until and unless logic and experience prove you wrong; remember, when the emperor looks naked, the emperor is naked; the truth and a lie are not 'sort of the same thing'; and there is no aspect, no facet, no moment of life that can't be improved with pizza. Thank you."

I'd like graduates to know that failing isn't the end of the world. That it's OK to say no to any offer that you know won't be good for you in the long run. That constantly comparing yourself to and being jealous of other people will only hold you back. That sometimes you're going to be only one to tell yourself "good job." That the best decisions are often the toughest to make and the hardest for other people to understand. That dreams don't always come true. That life isn't always fair. That not getting what you want is sometimes the best thing for you. That only you can determine what will make you truly happy.

Even if I had been told all those things when I graduated, I probably wouldn't have listened. If I had listened, I'd have looked for the exceptions and loopholes. Of course, I knew better. Of course, my life was going to be different. It still could be.