I love movies. I love the idea of how words on a piece of paper can be transformed into bright, magical images on a screen. And speaking of transformations, I can't help but think of the movie 'Transformers' and one of my all-time favorite movie lines.

Sam Witwicky: So what was that last night? What was that?
Bumblebee: [pointing skywards] "Message from Starfleet, Captain"..."Throughout the inanimate vastness of space"..."And angels will rain down like visitors from Heaven! Hallelujah!"
Mikaela: Visitors from heaven... so you're, like, an alien?
[Bumblebee points a finger at her and nods, and converts into a Camaro]
Bumblebee: "Any more questions you want to ask?"
Sam Witwicky: He wants us to get in the car.
Mikaela: [laughing nervously] And go where?
Sam Witwicky: Fifty years from now, when you're looking back at your life, don't you want to be able to say you had the guts to get in the car?

And there it is; one of the most fundamental and commonly occurring themes in all our lives. Taking a chance, placing a bet, going out on a limb. Life is about making the most of the opportunities thrown your way and grabbing the proverbial bull by its horns.

Eight weeks ago, I was asked by my friend John Taglieri if I'd be interested in working with him on a project. He had just finished recording six new songs for his soon-to-be released EP called 'Lives'. Upon listening to the songs again, he realized all six tracks together told a story. His idea was to expand the story told in the lyrics of the songs into a book, with each chapter in the book correlating to each track on the CD.

John was up front with me regarding the level of effort required should I be interested. In order to meet the scheduled release date for his CD, I'd have to work overtime with the writing and have everything ready to go to the publisher by the end of April. I thought about it and everything else I had going on at the time. I'm getting married in June, Lee and I are planning a big party to celebrate our marriage in July, and there's this little thing about submitting a bid to buy a house. As exciting as the project John was describing sounded, I just wasn't sure I wanted to commit to such an effort. After all, it wasn't just one book. JT's plan is for a four-volume series spanning the next eighteen months.

Then I thought about that line from 'Transformers'. "Fifty years from now, when you're looking back at your life, don't you want to be able to say you had the guts to get in the car?" Eighteen months from now, I didn't want to look back and wonder what might have been had I said yes to John and his offer.

I sit here now, however, knowing that my book, Volume I of The Lives Project, has been submitted to our publisher. I should have a proof copy of the book in about five days and it will be available for purchase beginning June 2. Even though there were long nights writing and re-writing the story, and even longer nights editing the whole thing, it's still somewhat surreal that in about a month I will be able to go to Amazon.com and see my name listed in their catalog of authors. How many people you know can say they have their own ISBN?

I hope you take a minute to check out The Lives Project and consider buying a copy (or two) of both the book and the CD. I also want to thank all of you who have supported my writing efforts all these years. I like to think there's a little bit of everyone's feedback and positive reinforcement in each of the eighty-four pages of the book. Your continued support and encouragement means the world to me. Thanks again.

Of course, we inevitably reached the topic of conversation about when we broke up. About how she broke my heart. It was devastating. It was surreal. It was one of those things that leaves you asking yourself, "Is this really happening?" I would see her from time to time after that moment and think how there was still something magical there. I would want to run back to her but I knew I just couldn't. I couldn't invest myself once again into that relationship. For two hours I took a stroll down memory lane with her, and that was just good enough for me.

Okay. The truth of the matter is this 'girlfriend' of which I speak is actually a show. 'ER' to be exact. The two hours I spent was in front of my TV as I watched the series finale on my DVR. I hadn't watched an episode of 'ER' in over 5 years. I broke up with the show after the character of Dr. Green died. And yes, I will admit it: I cried. It just wasn't the same for me after the departure of Dr. Green, and even though I tried to watch it here and there after that point, I just couldn't find that rhythm I once had with the show. For the record, I totally gave up on 'ER' after the character of Dr. Romano was killed by a falling helicopter. For me, that is when the show "jumped the shark", although in watching the retrospective special for 'ER', I apparently missed a lot.

So I sat there watching the series finale, allowing myself to be taken back to 1994 when it all began, all the while realizing I was not getting anything done on this Saturday afternoon as I had planned. My nonproductive laziness aside, watching the final episode was a somewhat emotional journey into the past. I remember my little apartment in Kenner, Louisiana from where I watched the pilot. I remember water cooler talk about the show on Friday mornings with my coworkers. I remember falling in love with the characters, specifically Dr. Green, and it was the first time I let myself get so emotionally invested in a fictitious person since Alex P. Keaton of Family Ties (that's another blog for another day, my friends).

In addition to the phenomenon that exists whereby a writer can create a character or situation, make this character come alive on stage or screen, and we, the audience, are left captivated and oftentimes infatuated with this work of fiction; that magic is completely intensified with the passage of times. 15 years have passed since the Thursday night in Kenner where I was first introduced the staff of Chicago's County General Hospital. Think about that. 15 years! Bill Clinton was halfway through his first term, Dallas and San Francisco were still NFL dynasties, and Forrest Gump was teaching us all that life is like a box of chocolates. The ink was barely dry on my college diploma when NBC aired the pilot for 'ER', and those days now seem like a lifetime away.

The experience of watching the final episode of what used to be my favorite show leads me to this; there is something magical about the memories we hold in our hearts. It allows us, if for only ever so briefly, to escape to a world or moment when things were perhaps better or maybe even perfect. Being reminded about the characters that came and went in 'ER' made me think about my dad and how I still feel the void he left with his passing back in '04. The show took me back to those first few months out of college and my green experiences in the 'real world', where delusion and reality fiercely collided head-on. It took me back to a time when I couldn't even begin to imagine the life I now lead, and all the blessings that fill it every day. Indeed, there is something magical in those memories, and it creates more giddy feelings of excitement as I think of the memories that are still yet to come.

I tip my hat to everyone who had a part in making 'ER' one of the most celebrated dramas in the history of television. Specifically, to the writers that filled the screen and my Thursday nights with characters that were true, gritty and real, I want to thank you for the pleasure of watching your work come to life and for the inspiration that you give me every time I take a stab at putting my thoughts down for others to read. I only hope that one day the byproduct of my fingers hitting the keys can create a magical memory for a reader somewhere down the road.