Don't Follow Your Dreams

When folks say “follow your dreams,” or… if you’re a cranky Boomer who says that “dreams are hobbies” and gets mad at millennials for wanting to enjoy their work—I disagree.

For me my dreams happen in my sleep. Four-wheeling with Margot Robbie & Kevin Bacon, showing up to tests completely unprepared, or driving a car with no steering wheel down Mario-Kart’s rainbow road. None of these I wish to “follow” – except the four-wheeling one.

In 1998, I showed up to my elementary school with a soda box on my head, a dishwasher box on my body, covered in foil. I was a robot. I’m not sure what for. Most likely, for the heck of it. I enjoyed wearing costumes. I wouldn’t go to the doctor’s office without a costume on either: usually Batman or some strange made-up character. I went to a wonderful elementary school with great teachers. I had an art teacher who loved her students well. I was in the first grade.

“What do you want to be when you grow up Chad Bob?” [I made my teachers call me Chad Bob, I would answer by no other name. I think I just thought the name Bob was funny. Still do.]

“I want to be an actor!” Chad Bob answered in return. “And an animator!”

“Hmm…” She said.

I knew that ‘hmm’ that adults gave. Even the cool adults. It was disapproval. Disdain. Neither of which I expected from my art teacher.

“You don’t want to be an actor,” she continued. “You want to be a director.”

I didn’t want to be an actor? I didn’t want to be an actor?! I thought I did. I thought when people asked you your opinion, it was your opinion. Adults always did stuff like this though. It wasn’t fair. I wanted to be an actor. Actors got attention. Ace Ventura was funny. I wanted attention. I wanted to be funny. I added “Bob” to my name for Pete’s sake. Also, she completely ignored my animator addendum. Animators make cartoons. And cartoons are awesome. I watched them everyday.

“Directors get the control. They get to make the movies,” she added.

Now, wait a minute. You mean Ace Ventura was made by someone? He wasn’t just Ace Ventura: Pet Detective from the start?

I couldn’t get the idea out of my head.

Her comment directed the rest of my life.

Maybe we should be careful what we tell kids. Maybe teachers, especially grade-school teachers, are extremely important to the development of our civilization’s future. Maybe it’s important to invest into quality education of our children. Maybe kids need encouragement and love. I digress. No, I progress. Chad Werner 2020.

In 2004, still chewing on that whole “director” idea from that darned art teacher. I received my first camera for Christmas from my supportive parents. A Mini-DV tape camera. My world changed. My first film “Bad Day” approximately 24 minutes long (23 minutes over what it required to tell the story) was a revelatory experience. I learned how to write, shoot, edit. I was hooked. It was also expensive. I started a dog poop-scoop business to finance my new endeavors. I made my friends star in my sketches conceitedly named “The Chad Werner Show.” We put them on Xanga and then MySpace (pre-YouTube). We had girls from private school reaching out to us over AIM wanting to be in our show. I got to be an actor after all. The fame was too much. I had to take them down. I was losing grip with reality.

The joys and glow of middle school quickly faded away when high school came. Cliques formed. MySpace was now “whack.” Making videos in your backyard wasn’t cool anymore. Football was cool. I was god-awful at football, but I played anyway… deep third string on the J.V. B-team. Right Guard lineman(boy). I wasn’t big though. I was just too slow and too uncoordinated for anything else. The linemen called me “Cornbread” because I would yell out random food on the line before a snap to confuse the opponents. Mainly, because I was bored.

After throwing up immensely at an abnormally hot post-season practice mid-Sophomore year I realized I thoroughly didn’t enjoy football, and I still loved movies. One of the two hobbies didn’t require a later-in-life neurodegenerative disease, so I decided to join theater. I figured I was already “acting” like I cared about winning football games, so I may as well act on a stage. Even if I couldn’t stand musicals. Sorry Mom and Dad (they showed up to every musical performance).

Also, sophomore year I had a cinephile English teacher that let us make videos instead of write papers (there go those pesky teachers again, ENCOURAGING KIDS!). I eventually ended up getting paid by other students to make their videos for them, even when I moved on to be a junior. This was some of my first professional work. I adapted The Great Gatsby multiple time, even before Leo.

That same teacher encouraged me to enter one of my films into South By Southwest in Austin. He told me I was good enough to chase this as a career if I wanted. We got our film into the festival. My friend and cinematographer on the short, Jazmin Diaz, and I headed down to Austin. Our parents drove us. I was introduced to many cool films and filmmakers.

We won our category. I called my mom on the phone during our acceptance speech. There was an afterparty on sixth street. We didn’t get in. We were seventeen. Our award didn’t impress the bouncer. It was one of the best nights of my life.

When I graduated high school in 2011 I gave a speech in front of the entire school. “Never settle,” I said. I told everyone to “follow their dreams” no matter where it took them. No matter what their dreams were. As long as it doesn’t involve hurting people. My friends jokingly today tell me to never settle. I still feel that way. Even when I joke about it.

In late 2017 I was at a bit of a crossroads in my life, though I didn’t quite realize it at the time. It feels silly to call age twenty-four a crossroads. I think I’ve always been a combination of a 5-year-old and a fifty-five-year-old though. Laughing at farts but also grunting to pick up something I’ve dropped. I was at a crossroads.

In college I met my best friends. And my best collaborators. People who took this passion as seriously as I did. We made a comedy troupe. We made sketch videos. Which led to making commercials. Which led to several web series. Which took us to Hollywood. Which was fun, but ultimately sobering: no matter how hard we worked. No matter how good it was. Hollywood didn’t want us. Not unless we had the numbers. I don’t blame them. I’m not angry about it. I swear. Hollywood was just the opposite of my teachers and friends and parents. I like my teachers and friends and parents. Hollywood was like “Entourage.” I don’t really like “Entourage.” Those guys kinda suck donkey balls.

I was reading a lot of articles and watching a lot of indie movies, and, like a bug biting me in the behind, I realized we could make a movie. My friends and I. So we made up a story. I wrote a script. I asked my best friends for some cash, which, to my surprise they gave to me. I asked my best buddies to produce it. And act in it. And shoot it. And make food for the crew. It was another best two weeks of my life. It was like we had a playground all to ourselves. And no adults. Just kids making a movie.

Now two years after those two weeks, that movie is coming out for everyone to see.

I write all this to say, I didn’t “follow my dreams.” Following your dreams is too elusive and strange a concept. It has the connotation of “following your happiness.” Happiness, as we all know, is like a warm flow of water when you’re swimming in a cold lake. It comes and goes and is probably just your friend’s pee.

I didn’t follow my dreams. Truth is, I don’t think I ever had much of a choice in my experience. I couldn’t not make videos and shorts and music videos and now feature films. I tried not to. I attempted not to stop. I attempted to get jobs elsewhere. I was an accounting intern. I sold camping hammocks. I made trial videos for a multi-level marketing jewelry company. I applied to advertising firms. I got denied. And like football, my heart wasn’t in it.

Action matches desire. If you want to do something you’ll make it happen. That doesn’t just apply to lofty goals either. You can say you want to do things all you want, but your heart knows. Your gut knows.

Finally, this is in no way a me story. Sure it’s a long ass #humblebrag, but I mean it. Humans love to celebrate the “I did its” of this world. We love to celebrate the “self-made man.” The truth is, that doesn’t exist. Even Drake’s song “All Me” has two featured artist on it. If it weren’t for teachers encouraging me, parents loving and supporting me, friends helping me, filmmakers sharing their stories, and thousands of strangers who have done miniscule things to help along the way I wouldn’t have made this film. This isn’t a fun lesson to learn from a guy that made “The Chad Werner Show.” But it’s crucial to getting anything done. I am deeply grateful for all the opportunities I’ve been given. I’m deeply grateful that I could even make a movie at all. This is the highly abridged version of the story. There were many ups and downs. But overall thanks to the help and kindness of so many people, it’s been one giant up.

I pray for the kids who haven’t been encouraged by teachers. For the kids who don’t have loving parents. For the lonely who don’t know true friendship. We should all really try to be a notch more nicer to each other. What could be accomplished if everyone had the ingredients to that recipe?

A lot more than a small budget horror movie that’s for sure.

“A Perfect Host” will be on DVD and Digital (Apple TV, Amazon Prime, Google Play, VUDU, On Demand, etc.) February 4th, 2020