<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8154923014778753837</id><updated>2012-02-16T07:39:10.429-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Random Sparks of Thought</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://randomsparksofthought.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8154923014778753837/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://randomsparksofthought.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Mitch</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14731360024245233357</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>5</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8154923014778753837.post-6756264072576378336</id><published>2009-02-04T22:46:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-04T23:29:31.895-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Sappy friend stuff...</title><content type='html'>So as I have said before, I recently concluded a segment of training that was very strenuous and difficult. One part of this training entailed a fair amount of forced solidarity.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I was in the very small, very uncomfortable room listening to a looped soundtrack of screaming infants, I was conjuring up all the happy memories that I could to keep myself from going insane. I thought of every thing. I recalled the name of the majority of my 4&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;th&lt;/span&gt; grade class at a small private school in Indiana. I thought of everyone who I have every labeled as my friend and recalled the memories that each person was involved in with me. When you are stuck by yourself with nothing to do but &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;exercise&lt;/span&gt; the gray matter, it is really very incredible what you can recall.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now, having been back for the better parts of two months, I still have not been able to sleep with any regularity. The only time I can actually get to sleep is when I am &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;absolutely&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;exhausted&lt;/span&gt;. I excused it at first as just an irregular sleep pattern, but I finally realize what it was. Something has been bothering to the point of depression.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Growing up is all about building relationships. For me whenever I showed up to a new school, which happened quite regularly until 5&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;th&lt;/span&gt; grade, I wasn't focused on academics, I was focused on making friends. As much as I like to think I am a loner, I need people to function.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Looking back on the friends that I thought off while in the room, I could think of only a handful of them that I still talked to on a regular basis. Out of the huge list of people that I knew, I had a slight idea of what was going on in a handful of their lives.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;See, when I was younger, I was always looking forward to what was going to come. I was looking forward to College. When I was in College I was always looking forward to getting out of College. We are all so focused on moving forward that we forget to stop and soak up what is around us. And when it is no longer around us we never pause to look back and take the time touch base with the people who helped carry you to where you are.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I encourage everyone to take a few hours some day and look back through your year books or look through your friends on &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;facebook&lt;/span&gt;, or flip through an old photo album. Take time to recall the good times that you wished would never end. Look back at the friends that you shared your success and failures with, the best days of your lives and the worst. Better yet take some time out of your day and send them a message or call them. Check in on them. Yeah it might be awkward, but you know you could just tell them a memory you had. Because although they might not make it evident to you, they miss it too and hey...life is too short.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Each friend represents a world in us, a world possibly not born until they arrive, and it is only by this meeting that a new world is born."- &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;Anais&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;Nin&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8154923014778753837-6756264072576378336?l=randomsparksofthought.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://randomsparksofthought.blogspot.com/feeds/6756264072576378336/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8154923014778753837&amp;postID=6756264072576378336' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8154923014778753837/posts/default/6756264072576378336'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8154923014778753837/posts/default/6756264072576378336'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://randomsparksofthought.blogspot.com/2009/02/sappy-friend-stuff.html' title='Sappy friend stuff...'/><author><name>Mitch</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14731360024245233357</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8154923014778753837.post-8909275417247790374</id><published>2009-01-24T18:06:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-24T19:20:20.628-08:00</updated><title type='text'>I think I hate...people...</title><content type='html'>Shortly after I finished a school in the good old Army, I suddenly realized that I was very impatient. I could not go into public without &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;getting&lt;/span&gt; frustrated beyond belief with people.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It wasn't until I returned home to the Great State of Texas and went to a movie with my friends did I realize, its not that I'm impatient, I just truly do loathe tons of people. This is not a hatred that is spontaneously casted upon everyone, there is a method to the madness. Below, I will give a few examples of things that really ruffle my feathers.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Individualism. I am all for individualism. I think people should feel free to &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;express&lt;/span&gt; themselves however they want. What frustrates me is the people who express their individualism and adopt the attitude that they are an individual by dressing like ALL OF THEIR FRIENDS. I mean, good job...really. The other great part about it is for some reason certain things &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;instantly&lt;/span&gt; make you awesome. For example, if I put on a flat-brimmed, fitted hat (but backwards at a slight angle), and then I whe&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_wmncmKSx1NE/SXvWMiNvxTI/AAAAAAAAAAw/l9oQSMhlPyk/s1600-h/socal_network_tool.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5295061297735386418" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 256px" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_wmncmKSx1NE/SXvWMiNvxTI/AAAAAAAAAAw/l9oQSMhlPyk/s320/socal_network_tool.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;re my little brothers shirt (being sure to pop the collar of course), and then put the keys to my moms mini-van on a long lanyard that i will proceed to have hanging out of my pocket, then I am instantly a bad ass, Right? This is what i would classify being a tool. Tool is best defined by Urban dictionary, "&lt;em&gt;someone who is a complete idiot/ one who is used by other people, and usually &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;doesn't&lt;/span&gt; even realize it/ someone who can't think for themselves". &lt;/em&gt;See now &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;emo's&lt;/span&gt; or goths, they don't really bother me. Yes they all seem to dress alike, but at least they don't through it in your face by their attitude. They are not trying to be Billy Bad-ass as demonstrated by the girls pants (something I don't understand, but hey, more power to you). When what you wear determines your &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;demeanor&lt;/span&gt; then there is something wrong.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Since we picked on the guys, I figure I better do a bit on the females as well. Guys like girls, we know (although it is seeming to grow less and less common). Unfortunately, a large majority of guys think about women more with something that rests a little lower then the belt on the male anatomy. Because of this majority, women suddenly think that if they look good they own the world of men. Many of them think that &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;merely&lt;/span&gt; by the way they look they could get you do anything they want. Another &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;problem&lt;/span&gt; with this is guys tend to worry what attractive women think of them, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;hence&lt;/span&gt; spawning other wonderful pools of behavior in males. T&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_wmncmKSx1NE/SXvYIAlP_8I/AAAAAAAAABA/T-hlT819goY/s1600-h/Photo095-WhiteDomesticPig-MudBath.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5295063419010940866" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_wmncmKSx1NE/SXvYIAlP_8I/AAAAAAAAABA/T-hlT819goY/s320/Photo095-WhiteDomesticPig-MudBath.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;he great thing for me personally, is now that I am no longer in &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9"&gt;high school&lt;/span&gt; and my time of being in puberty is over, i don't give two flying, shit-&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10"&gt;covered&lt;/span&gt; pigs about what any &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11"&gt;sluttly&lt;/span&gt; dress, obnoxious, ignorant bitch thinks. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12"&gt;In fact&lt;/span&gt; when I see the first hints of that type of mindset, I really just want to start punting faces.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My final topic is one that spreads across the sexes. It has to do with overall mindset actually. Say, for example, that I am driving down a street and I come up on a group of Hardcore guys and their Slutty girlfriends (really just to tie the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_13"&gt;affor mention&lt;/span&gt; parties into the idea), who are walking down the middle of the road. All the while there is a perfectly good sidewalk just 5 feet off the road. So as I drive up behind them I am forced to slow down to their walking pace. Finally one of the Einsteins turns around and sees a car behind him, on the road where cars belong. After noticing this, does he inform his dud-friends and encourage them to move to the sidewalk and then go there himself? No, instead he turns around and continues walking. For another example, People love to walk and talk. In a crowded mall, however, it is not the most economical thing to walk 7 people across. Believe it or not other people do want to walk in the same area without having to dodge you and your cronies.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Really, I would continue to discuss these points further, but &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_14"&gt;unfortunately&lt;/span&gt; I am getting &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_15"&gt;riled&lt;/span&gt; up just writing about them. Therefore I am forced to conclude my thoughts.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Kids, don't be idiots. First, branch out and be yourself and not a carbon-copy, lapdog of the guy next to you. Next, you can act like a &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_16"&gt;bad ass&lt;/span&gt; all day Sport, but in the end it is still acting. Third goes out to the females, get over yourselves. Congratulations you may think you look good, but have some respect for yourselves. Oh and on a side note to that, the whole world isn't always talking about you. So when you hear someone say that they hate you, don't think that you need to send your punk, tool boyfriend after us because its just going to get his &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_17"&gt;ass kicked&lt;/span&gt;. Plus, they are allowed to hate you. Perhaps if you saw yourself from our shoes, you would hate yourself too. And Finally, if you want to play Billy the Big, block bully, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_18"&gt;that's&lt;/span&gt; fine, just keep it on the block chief. And &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_19"&gt;in case&lt;/span&gt; you don't know where your block is, come find me. I let you know where it isn't. Perhaps I'm the only one and I am just grumpy. Or perhaps there are some real sociological "illnesses" that should be studied, so to save future generations from a inevitably good Ass kicking. Who knows...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8154923014778753837-8909275417247790374?l=randomsparksofthought.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://randomsparksofthought.blogspot.com/feeds/8909275417247790374/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8154923014778753837&amp;postID=8909275417247790374' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8154923014778753837/posts/default/8909275417247790374'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8154923014778753837/posts/default/8909275417247790374'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://randomsparksofthought.blogspot.com/2009/01/i-think-i-hatepeople.html' title='I think I hate...people...'/><author><name>Mitch</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14731360024245233357</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_wmncmKSx1NE/SXvWMiNvxTI/AAAAAAAAAAw/l9oQSMhlPyk/s72-c/socal_network_tool.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8154923014778753837.post-9082288081939169302</id><published>2008-12-17T14:46:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-17T14:57:47.426-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Back in Black...</title><content type='html'>So I &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;apologize&lt;/span&gt; for my very long absence from the arena.  Some would say that I was on vacation (I beg to differ), but either way I am back.  For the next couple of months there is nothing that has my focus except Arabic and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Stickman&lt;/span&gt;. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Not a whole lot has changed since my vacation.  I am still &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;committed&lt;/span&gt; writing the script for &lt;em&gt;With Hands Dabbled In Blood&lt;/em&gt;.  There are some finer points of the story that i am still ironing out but with time, work, and help from the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;Stickmen&lt;/span&gt;, it should turn out nicely. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For those of you who don't know yet, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;&lt;em&gt;WHDIB&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt; is Sci-&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;fi&lt;/span&gt; story that is based on a &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;struggle&lt;/span&gt; between the Upper class, who has all the power, and the lower, who has none.  Through this clash, characters emerge, each with there own unique background, and fight against the mainstream complacency to help correct the injustices and bring about a 'better world'(to use a &lt;em&gt;Kingdom of Heaven&lt;/em&gt; line).  It really isn't a war movie, although I do plan on making one of those as well, but it is more of a drama. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;unfortunately&lt;/span&gt; it is time for me to switch my focus and go back to class.  Once again I am more than thrilled to be back and I look forward to getting back to work.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8154923014778753837-9082288081939169302?l=randomsparksofthought.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://randomsparksofthought.blogspot.com/feeds/9082288081939169302/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8154923014778753837&amp;postID=9082288081939169302' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8154923014778753837/posts/default/9082288081939169302'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8154923014778753837/posts/default/9082288081939169302'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://randomsparksofthought.blogspot.com/2008/12/back-in-black.html' title='Back in Black...'/><author><name>Mitch</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14731360024245233357</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8154923014778753837.post-3317699185041280643</id><published>2008-08-20T18:47:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-08-20T18:49:16.321-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Disclaimer...</title><content type='html'>Before put up my first Random spark of thought, I would just like to say that I cannot write.  Anything that is posted on this blog is merely a splattering of thoughts that come into my brain...nothing more.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8154923014778753837-3317699185041280643?l=randomsparksofthought.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://randomsparksofthought.blogspot.com/feeds/3317699185041280643/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8154923014778753837&amp;postID=3317699185041280643' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8154923014778753837/posts/default/3317699185041280643'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8154923014778753837/posts/default/3317699185041280643'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://randomsparksofthought.blogspot.com/2008/08/disclaimer.html' title='Disclaimer...'/><author><name>Mitch</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14731360024245233357</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8154923014778753837.post-5980116623513617124</id><published>2008-08-19T08:54:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-08-20T18:51:07.156-07:00</updated><title type='text'>In the Beginning...</title><content type='html'>At times I find myself looking back on how I got caught up in this. It was really a long process to get to where we are now. But here it is as I remember it...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Back when I was in the 6&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;th&lt;/span&gt; grade, I met Blake. We became friends by shear coincidence. Shane and I had a class that we had to attend prior to the school year for study skills or some stupid crap like that. When we got to the classroom, being the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;immature&lt;/span&gt; little people we were, we checked who was set be in the desks around us. Quickly Shane and I located an individual that we were positive we did not want to sit next to. So we quickly switched the name tags around with a random one from another row. That random one was Blake.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Blake, Shane, and I hung out together all through middle school. At one point in there Blake invited me over to his house in Argyle, TX. We rented a movie that night, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;Goldeneye&lt;/span&gt;. For some reason watching that movie sparked a small interest in me. The entire next day i talked with Blake about how much fun it would be to make a movie just for fun. Blake, interestingly enough was already into movies and had made a few &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;home videos&lt;/span&gt; of his own at this point. I left his house with that desire to make a movie still burning.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Years later, we came out with our first movie idea, Hunter. It was a thriller movie about a strange creature that killed kids. When it was first shown to me I was very impressed and began to get more and more involved. We had one problem during those days. We could always start a script, but for some reason we would hit page 20 at be stuck. Many other film ideas came forward and some were developed, others were not and we floated along for a while.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When we were Juniors in &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;high school&lt;/span&gt; it was then very apparent that this is what we wanted to do. Every get together we had a camera with us we would always try to film something. Blake came to a party we had with the beginning of a movie called &lt;em&gt;Gravediggers. &lt;/em&gt;We had been talking about this idea for quite some time and finally we had the beginnings of a script. While I was reading over it, Will, then a sophomore that very few of us really knew, came up and started asking questions. I quickly answered them, almost trying to avoid them and the party continued.&lt;br /&gt;The next day, I went over to &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;Blake's&lt;/span&gt; house and he sat me down at his computer and had me read an email that he had gotten from Will. I read through it and was &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;dumbstruck&lt;/span&gt;. It blew me away and it was only two pages long with two characters. From this we built the two main characters for &lt;em&gt;Cleaners&lt;/em&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Since those days more and more great people have come together in the common joy of film making. Shane, Chase, Ty, Richard, and many other incredible assets.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8154923014778753837-5980116623513617124?l=randomsparksofthought.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://randomsparksofthought.blogspot.com/feeds/5980116623513617124/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8154923014778753837&amp;postID=5980116623513617124' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8154923014778753837/posts/default/5980116623513617124'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8154923014778753837/posts/default/5980116623513617124'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://randomsparksofthought.blogspot.com/2008/08/in-beginning.html' title='In the Beginning...'/><author><name>Mitch</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14731360024245233357</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry></feed>
