Here’s a little background on Oliver the dog. He’s a purebred cocker spaniel I adopted in January. He is the sweetest guy in the world. There are really only three things he wants to do: cuddle, slobber, and play fetch. But in order to let guests and other innocent bystanders know that he wants to do those things, he jumps on them. Incessantly. When it’s just he and I, he’s a dream, but throw someone else into the mix, and Oliver must tell his new buddy how happy he is to make his or her acquaintance.

And so, I finally relented and agreed to have Julie come over to my place to give Oliver a lesson. To be honest I wasn’t really expecting much. I mean, if I as a filmmaker and TV producer couldn’t teach a dog to sit, how was a professional dog trainer going to do any better? Yes, these are, in fact, the thoughts that go through my mind daily. But I digress.

Anyway, Julie walked into my apartment, observed Oliver, and then went to work. She looked down at him as he ran around jumping up and down on her and the furniture, tail flying back and forth like a humming bird wing, and slobber flying everywhere. Finally, she stood upright, held her hand out like a crossing guard and said calmly and firmly, “Oliver.”

He stopped, sat down immediately, and looked at her, like, “Yes, Miss Julie!” It was as if she had an instant psychic connection with him. His eyes did not waver from hers, and he listened to every word she said with the fixed attention of a tween at a Jonas Brothers concert. It was uncanny.

She worked with Oliver and I, and in less than two hours, she had us both trained!  Him not to jump on people, not to jump on the furniture unless invited, and, my personal favorite, to sit and stay in the same position until told to “release.”  And me to be the leader of our pack of two.

Today, he is a different dog. All the same sweetness and enthusiasm without the crazy kamikaze attacks! Thank you, Julie

But I digress.

Anyway, VeggieGril, for those who don’t know, is a restaurant here in LA that serves only vegan food, but much of their vegan food resembles traditional American fare like hamburgers, chicken sandwiches, and carrot cake. Usually, I am not of fan of vegetarian or vegan foods made to look like meat, but in this case, I could be president of their fan club. I mean, their food is SO good. Orgasmically good.

They even offer a nifty service called “Curbside Pickup,” where, you order ahead, and as you are pulling into the parking garage, you call them, and they come down and meet your car in a pre-designated area.

But here’s where the situation got a little sticky last night…

I’d ordered dinner for me and a friend, and at the last minute, my friend asked me to change his side of steamed kale to a side salad. I called them, and as usual, they were very accommodating. By the time I was ready to hang up the phone (I was on a hands-free device, don’t get all freaked out), I was about to pull into the parking garage. “Hey, I’m just pulling into the garage, so just come down when it’s ready.”

“Okay see you in a few,” said the friendly voice on the other end of my bluetooth.

And so I entered the parking garage and started to wait. And wait. And wait. Finally, about 15 minutes later, I started to wonder what was going on. I took the elevator up to VeggieGrill, walked in, and sure enough, there was my food waiting for me like a kindergartner waiting for his Mom, who was clearly late to the pick up.

“I’ve been waiting down in the garage since we hung up,” I announced.

“Oh no! I’m so sorry,” said the man at the register. “I missed that you were already here when you called. My bad.”

And here is when VeggieGrill went from super yummy restaurant to epic pinnacle of all things in my world. The man at the register looked at the manager, who came forward and said, “Your meal is on us tonight, and for your trouble, here is a $25 gift card. Thank you for being a loyal customer.”

Amazing. Who does things like that anymore!?

I guess the old adage is still true: The best things come to those who wait.

“Really?” I scoffed. “You really go hear her speak?”

“Yeah, she’s great. She speaks every Tuesday. You should come if you’re free,” he said in a tone that was neither defensive nor effusive.

It was the kind of take-it-or-leave-it statement that always piqued my interest. I wondered just who this Marianne Williamson was and how she’d managed to get the attention of Brad, someone I’d never known to be exceptionally new-agey or metaphysically feel-goodey.

Side note: Los Angeles is at its core a small town, so when one generates any amount of controversy, as Marianne had in the past, people hear about it. Before I really knew anything about her, I’d decided that she was the kind of self-help guru who sold a very commercial message of canned hope and faith to masses of desperate people, in the midst of mid-life crises, clamoring to find some kind of meaning in their lives. In other words, I had a little contempt prior to investigation.

But I digress.

Anyway, I met Brad at Marianne’s lecture the following week. The theater was packed. About 900 people quietly waited for Marianne to take the stage. When she ascended the stairs and stepped into the spotlight, she looked exactly how I thought she would. Very attractive, fit and camera-ready, with $700 hair, wearing what looked to be a $2500 suit, complete with Christian Louboutin heels. Okay, I admit the shoes surprised me. I suddenly thought she was fabulous. But again, I digress.

Once onstage, she sweetly asked if the lighting was OK and if she looked all right. The audience reassured her. She graciously blushed a little bit. “This woman is good!” I mused. Then, we prayed together. And then she started to speak.

Immediately, she caught me off guard. This was not a lecture for the faint of heart, nor was it a lecture for those who were waiting to be spoon fed something mindless and easy to digest. This was a call to action. This was a careful, oftentimes what I would call PhD level, analysis of metaphysics in everyday life, with occasional references to leitmotifs in fairytales so that her points could be more clearly understood. She even discussed Albert Einstein. I was totally blown away.

Then came the questions and answers. Some people asked about what she’d spoken about. Some people asked about very specific issues in their lives. She received each question with kindness and grace and provided a direct, clear and personalized answer, while at the same time relating the issue back to a larger theme. What struck me, though, was that she was not about to co-sign anyone’s BS. In fact, she actually said to one woman, “You are 33 years old. It’s time to stop behaving like a Ditzy Dora and start living as an adult.” Oh, yes she did.

At the heart of her lecture was a simple truth. We are currently living in fear. And fear cannot be wished away. The only way to get rid of fear is to replace it with love. Love for ourselves, love for others, and love for the world around us.

It was then that I remembered something my high school English teacher had said when asked about the rumors that a man named Shakespeare didn’t actually write all those plays. Were they written by a group of people? Was Shakespeare a pen name for a man called Francis Bacon?

My high school English teacher’s response was simply, “It doesn’t matter who wrote these plays. The fact is that they exist, that they are wonderful, and that their impact and influence continue to be felt centuries after they were first published. Whether or not a man named Shakespeare wrote them is immaterial… At least to me.”

And then I thought about Marianne. I related to her message. Thousands and thousands of people around the world related to her message every day.

So, at the end of the day, does it matter who Marianne the person truly is? I think what matters is that her message is clear, positive, full of hope, meaningful, impactful, and potentially life-changing for all those who care to listen.

Sometimes, when we get so busy scrutinizing the fallibility and very humanity of a specific messenger, we often miss the message.

Here’s the back story… Years ago, when I was really just a gay-in-training, I developed a healthy fascination with Paula Abdul. This was during the Forever Your Girl era. I loved her. I thought she’d hung the moon. My Mom even got me a VHS compilation of her videos, and I resigned myself to learning all of Paula’s dance steps by slowly tracking through the videos frame by frame. Please don’t tell anyone, though. I don’t want to get a reputation.

But back then, I was so brought down that this particular compilation did not contain the “Opposites Attract” video…

You see, at the time, my parents didn’t have cable, so I could only see the video in glimpses at friends’ houses where there was MTV. And I thought the “Opposites Attract” video was only the coolest thing… EVER!

I begged and begged my parents to get us MTV, which of course they would hear no part of. Finally, my Dad set out on a mission to get me a copy of the video. Well, it was more of an “I’m going to write a letter to Paula” moment, as opposed to a mission, but I digress.

Anyway, unbeknownst to me, he sent a letter off to Paula and then, as one does, subsequently developed a friendship with key members of “Team Abdul.” One day, he came home from the office carrying a large, padded envelope, which he handed to me.

“I think this is for you,” he said.

So, I opened up the package to find a copy of the “Opposites Attract” video, along with the above autographed picture from Paula. I almost fainted. Then, I read what Paula had written on the picture.

“Keep dancing?” I asked. “Why did she write ‘Keep dancing’!?”

“Well, I may have told her manager that you inch through her videos frame by frame…”

“WHAT!? You told her manager that!? Now Paula’s gonna think I’m weird! Oh my God!”

He started laughing. “Will you just put the tape in the VCR so we can see what all the fuss is about?”

And yes, after a couple of years, I’d worn that tape out, too.

Here I am on the set, with my 3D glasses in my hair, figuring out one of the last shots of a long day with our Director of Photography, Adrian…

As you can imagine, this whole project has been quite a challenge.  I wrote, produced and directed these webisodes, and so I want more than ever to make sure they are nothing short of outstanding.  Now, at the end of the post production process, there are a number of people working very hard to finish all the 3D compositing, the score, the sound mix, the color correction, and then to marry all these elements together into one fabulous final product.

The problem I am having today is in the realization that I must let go and accept that I cannot control everything!  And in my work life, that has always been a challenge because I am a perfectionist and an occasional control freak.  Right now, other than giving copious notes and granting my approval to the various elements coming my way, my part is essentially done.  I have to rely on the talent, ingenuity, and dedication of others as I watch from a careful distance.

My mantra today:  It always gets done.  It always comes together the way it’s supposed to.  It always get done…