Everyday Jon Hill

I Turn Thirty Next Year…

“Nah man, we’re just getting old…” - Me about three times a week

I turned 29 last week and it couldn’t have come at a more appropriate time. The night before, my roommate and I yelled at some kids cutting in line at a movie theater and after seeing them again in the theater, referred to them as “the shitheads that cut in front of us,” thereby hopefully instilling a childhood memory about the time some old dude called “Jeff” a shithead at Avengers 1.

My mom recently told me that I’ve been fifty since I was ten, meaning I’ve always had an older mentally. Maybe it was being mature at a young age, or maybe it was because she never saw me be a drunk mess in college, that gave off the sense that I was older than I actually was. Most of the time in high school people assumed I was older than I was, often thinking I was a senior from another school and not just a freshman at the Max Rose party of all parties.

But then recently I actually became older. I can vividly remember the time I nearly hit a kid in my car and yelled, “You stupid kids” and instantly knew that “You” actually meant “Not me,” and that I was on the other side of understanding what it’s like to not have responsibility again (considering I just had to spellcheck “responsibility” might make me reconsider). 

I have wholeheartedly embraced getting older. I think it’s wonderful. All the dumb shit that used to worry me wouldn’t last ten seconds in my new brain. What if I don’t know anyone there? Fuck it, then they won’t know me. What if no one likes me? Fuck em, I know I’ve got great friends that do like me. What if she doesn’t call me back? Fuck her, it wouldn’t have worked out anyway then. Growing older means growing up, which means the little things stay little.

But I’ve noticed that a lot of people I know are having a hard time getting older. They can’t party as hard as they used to, can’t get reckless like they once could, and spend so much time worrying that they are becoming irrelevant. And to these people I have two words for you: Fuck you. That’s right, fuck you for complaining that you are almost thirty. Fuck you for complaining about living. Fuck you for wishing you were dead already. Growing older is a privilege, not a right. You and I do not get any sympathy for almost being thirty. Nick and Kyle and Justin and Joey and so many others didn’t get a chance to be this old. Be grateful you made it. Be grateful you are alive. (Oh, and clean up your car. You’re almost thirty for Christ’s sake) 

So yeah, I’m not going to “have made it” by twenty four like I once dreamed of. I’m not going to be on any 30 Under 30 list (unless my hamburger earmuffs idea really take off!) and occasionally I have to bitch slap these young kids and their handheld 7d’s back into place sometimes, but overall, I’m pretty happy with what I’ve done in these twenty nine years. I’ve taken care of my family when they’ve needed me, I’ve made stuff I’m really proud of, and I’ve got the best friends in the entire world that help and encourage me in every aspect of my life. And you’re saying that I should be upset that I might be lucky enough to do this for another year? Well fuck me then because turning thirty sounds like an awesome reward. 

My Suggestion

There comes a time in your life when your job, for no fault of your own, must unexpectedly let you go. Here is my suggestion for what you should do:

1. Laugh. You’re lucky to have had an amazing job for this long while working with amazing people. The job will be back at some point and it’ll be better than ever. Sulking is for assholes. Don’t be an asshole.

2. Blast a medley of songs on your speakers throughout the office that would be the soundtrack to you leaving. Start with The Doors The End, move on to Semisonic’s Closing Time, and graciously walk out to Green Day’s Good Riddance (Time of Your Life). If anything, your co-workers will get a kick out of this.

3. Write “Jon Hill was here” on the wall. (It may be appropriate to insert your own name though using my name is kinda funny and ironic). Aim for the precision and determination of this scene. Don’t aim for the part afterwards.

4. Go to Target and buy a hotdog. Remember, the hotdog might be $3, but the relish and mustard is free. Load the fuck up. You no longer have a job and need to take advantage of every opportunity.

5. Even though you desperately want to, you might not be able to call your dad and get one of his usual pep talks. Instead, remember that he always taught you “Everything will be alright. It always is,” and instead go to your local bookstore and buy a book about his childhood hero written by one of your heros. Understand that you can probably buy it cheaper on Amazon but that sometimes supporting your local store and the symbolism is more important than the $10 you’d save. Remember, Jack Kennedy faced way harder situations than this. Learn from him.

6. Start working on your feature film.

Back from my Trip

Peace to all the Gods. Thanks for reminding me where I’m really from. You’re the reason I do what I do and you inspire me to create my best work. We’re only a step off the starting line. 

Oh, and thanks to all the pretty girls that let me take your picture. I miss you a lot a lot of the times. 

Aaaaaaaaaannnnnnnnnd…

FIRED.

Integrity over money. Always.

In Regards to Val’s Lovely Post…

Reading Val’s post that made me think about this…

The one thing that I wish I had from my childhood were these tapes my dad used to send me. As a child, my dad read to me every night. We’d load up whenever Scholastic Books’ made its rounds and it’s safe to say all of my crime solving abilities can be linked back to being read every Encyclopedia Brown and Nate the Great ever written.

When my dad started to travel for work, he’d take the books with him, record himself reading them (with instructions on when to turn the page), and then overnight the book and the tape to me so that his youngest son could listen to his voice and read along before I fell asleep. 

That’s my father.

When we were cleaning out our house to be sold, I searched everywhere I could to find those tapes. I never found any. I often picture my dad sitting in some dingy hotel room, old Radio Shack mic in his hand, doing what he probably thought was the closest thing he could do to not being there. I always knew traveling for work must have ate him up inside and that providing for his family was the only thing that got him through it. I know that in my line of work I’ll probably have to travel a lot. I hope I grow to be as strong as him.

It would have been nice to be able to leave my child a tape of his grandfather reading him a bedtime story. Or just a really mean case to solve. 

Thank You Friend

I wanted to say thank you to everyone who watched and supported my film, I Met a Girl. I’m really honored to have such great friends that support what I’m trying to do as a filmmaker and as an artist. I’m very proud of this piece, and I’m glad so many people enjoyed it. And I’m sorry I kept bothering you to vote!

While winning the $100,000 would be pretty awesome, I feel I have already won in many ways. I can always earn money; I can’t always make something that so many people will enjoy. When someone writes me and says that they are just happy to be my friend and thanks me for making the film, it means more than money ever will. I know that’s the cliche thing to say but I truly feel that. I don’t control the contest, but I do control what I create and I’m very proud of the film and that I was able to share it with you. I’m also very happy that I spent that amazing day with Dana. Without her, none of this would be possible. And it didn’t hurt that she’s a hottie and kept believing me that we had to do so many takes of the kissing scene.

This experience has been very humbling for me. To be honest, I don’t even know how I’d feel about winning the money. While $100,000 would be nice, I wish I had made a completely different film. I wish I didn’t tell a story that involves me losing my father last year. I wish he were still alive and that instead I made a film letting him know how much he meant to me and how much I loved him. But I understand that I can’t, and hopefully this serves as a fitting tribute to him.

I’m writing this before I know if I won or not. By the time you read this, I will be by myself somewhere on the beach. I’ll be there bright and early wearing my new suit and smoking a cigar. Why a suit and a cigar? Well why the hell not? Life’s an amazing and potentially short adventure. Do whatever the hell makes you happy. Take risks and don’t let others get in the way of doing what you want. And most importantly, die with a huge fucking smile on your face. I know I will.

Once again, from the bottom of my heart, thank you.

Jon Hill

January 2nd, 2009

One year ago today, I put my favorite photo of us in his hand, told him I loved him, and then asked God for forgiveness. A few days before I had made the most important decision of my life, and I vowed to sit there with him until the end. Three hours after his life support was removed, my dad’s body finally gave up on him. At the age of 25, I sat alone in the hospital with my dead father.

I kissed his forehead and began to gather my stuff. Out of the corner of my eye I noticed something through the window. Like something out of a movie, a giant beam of light had broken through the gloomy overcast and landed on the roof of the hospital. It was one of the most beautiful and majestic sites I had ever seen.

I quickly turned back to my father, threw up my arms and said, “Really?!?! Really? That’s what happens when you die? A giant beam of light breaks through the clouds as it takes you to heaven? You have got to be kidding me.”

I couldn’t help but smile in awe knowing it was probably just my dad having one last laugh with me. I took it as a sign that we had done the right thing, and that he’d continue to be watching over us, as he always had.

WE MADE THE TOP 50!!! Time to vote!!!

The video I made, I Met a Girl, has made the top 50 finalist. I hate to ask, but the grand prize is $100,000. That’s a lot of moolah for a kid from Philly and I’m willing to annoy you for it.

It’s a very personal film and probably my best work yet. I’m really proud of it, and the girl in it is the actual girl I met. It’s a cute little story, and I hope you like it.

All I’m asking is that you go to the site, watch my video, and vote if you want (Click the stars). That’s it. If you think it’s worth 5 stars, then go for it. If it’s only worth 1 star, click away.

Feel free to retweet, send out emails, and reblog it if you want (I’m rocking about 30 followers on tumblr, so I could use a little help in reblog department). If you voted for it, why not let all your facebook followers know by putting it in your status? Leaving comment’s on the site are also greatly appreciated. The more help I can get, the better.

Thank you to everyone who has helped with this project, especially Dana, JoeNation, Sean Cook, and everyone else who leant a hand or sent me some moral support. I am very humbled by this experience, and I appreciate everything you have done for me.

Click here to watch and vote.