This is the Flower of the World

I Hope 2011 Gets a Little Better

2011-01-31T21:19:00.000-08:00

January has been underwhelming.
This last day leaves me bleeding to U2 videos and drinking tea.

Saturday was a revolutionary day in my brain that ended with less revolutionary behavior. After a month straight of panicking and self-loathing and taking it all out on the wrong people, I hit a low point this weekend.
Saturday morning, I was told I'm the luckiest one. I laughed it off, mostly. Then I thought about it - I'm not lucky, I've got a job to do, and God has been very insistent, despite my best efforts, to keep me on track. My mind wanders...
At church that night, the whole sermon was about God having a plan for every life. It's not enough that there is an ideal life that we've been given perfect tools for - we have to accept it as our assignment. I say I've done that, but I realized I've been rather lazy. And I say that in nearly every one of these blog entries, but it's true. I should be doing so much more. And I just don't. (For a number of reasons which all probably deserve separate bloody entries all their own this week.)
I suppose 2011 is mine to make better, and I suppose I will.
Right now, I feel a little embarrassed at my laziness and at how this must look to everyone else. I'm "lucky" and I whine and whine and whine.

It's not something I'm going to be able to change over night. But I need to toughen up and do it. I am finally accepting this mission.

Holidays, Stress, and Writing Through It All

2010-12-14T11:11:00.000-08:00

I finished the marching show. It was too long. They're "bastardizing" it. Such is life.

Sunday, at around 4:15 am, I will leave my apartment for a 6:00 am flight from LAX back to Illinois. It's been about a year since I've been home, and I'm excited. And oddly nervous. It's been one hell of a year. And it's gone by so quickly.

On the upside, being home means I won't have a car or too many plans - I'm a total homebody when it's that cold - so I should be able to get a lot of writing done. I'm hoping to work on the treatment for Paul and get it into shape so we can start on the script in the new year.

While I'm excited to see my family, being home always freaks me out. There aren't many pleasant memories from high school, and I haven't kept in touch with too many people from ol' Rock Island. :-P Chicago is the main event, even if it is for only two days. I love that city, and I love the people I know there. It will be great to see some of my closest friends - people I talk to nearly every day without actually seeing. To catch up in person will be wonderful.

And through it all, I hope to get a lot of work done. I want 2011 to be more productive in terms of my writing than 2010.

A Year of Wishes

2010-12-01T19:02:00.000-08:00

Because 22 is 11+11, Paul declared it was a year of wishes. According to The Rules, he says, I get a wish every day. I think he made it up, but I've decided to keep a journal of my wishes - to pray about them - and to see which come true.

Tonight, I'm going to focus on the marching show. I have some of the music and a breakdown of the movements, so I'm really looking forward to writing it.

A second draft of the treatment is due by Christmas.

I'm hoping to find some time to lay down an outline for my Job story by New Years.

Goals!

I survived my birthday, and I'm really looking forward to the Six Flags trip on Saturday. Hopefully, everyone will start getting back to me about the driving situation!

Now, to work off the massive amounts of food from the past week.

(Adjective) Thanksgiving and the Obligatory "I'm Thankful For..." List

2010-11-24T20:20:00.000-08:00

Tomorrow is Thanksgiving. While I'm stoked that I have 4.5 days off work and live in California where the weather is perfect for hiking, I cannot help but look toward tomorrow with immense trepidation, fear, and all-out loathing. Celebrating with a vegetarian-friendly bunch of hipsters in Koreatown, only half of which I know and a quarter of which I can tolerate, two-thousand miles from my family is not the way I would have chosen this day to go. But people close to me in my life have this nasty habit of ignoring me in November. It's been a recurring theme throughout my life, always ending in extended-family dinners where I am invisible and birthdays (mine is in November) that I'd rather not remember. Thinking back, as I've been inclined to do lately, I realize that November Incidents are about 20% of the reason I spent so much time in therapy. Haha.

HOWEVER... and this is a huge and wonderful HOWEVER...
In the sentimental and true spirit of this holiday, I, in my snobbish, bratty reluctance to enjoy tomorrow at all, believe that I have more for which to be Thankful than anyone else I will be celebrating with tomorrow. Yes, I said it. I have lived a life that has been primarily free of struggle. At lunch with a friend today, he brought up the idea of "rich people problems." He was referencing how people in third-world countries have almost no food allergies despite being hungry most their lives. Though I am not wealthy, the obstacles I have faced in my life have been products of blessing and privilege. While this in itself is a reason to celebrate, I'd like to flaunt my blessing, if only to make myself feel a little better about being lonely in a crowd on a holiday... again.

1. I have an amazing job, in my line of work, with amazing coworkers. Yes, it can be stressful, and yes, I'm "just" an assistant, but I'm an assistant to a President of a prolific and successful company. The other assistants in my office are good people who have shown nothing but kindness and patience as I have struggled through my first year not only at this company, but my first year working full-time at any job. I've also got a boss who has integrity - such a rarity in this industry. She is also incredibly kind, and has given me an opportunity that few other people would have. And she bought me a Kindle for my birthday, which is pretty great. :-P

2. I live alone in a comfortable apartment in a great neighborhood. When I am home, I answer to no one, and it is a dream come true. My neighbors leave me and each other well-enough alone, but also have the courtesy to keep the building clean and say hi when passing on the stairs. The rooftop view is perfect, and I have a parking space... in West LA. And like I said before, this is Southern California, and I can hike any time of year.

3. I have minimal student loan debt due in part to amazing parents, in part to some scholarships, and in part to obtaining my BA in two years.

4. I have an amazing immediate family, and, for the first time in my life, I have a solid relationship with my younger brother. My parents are together, they love each other, and they love my siblings and I. We may fight sometimes, and we may disagree, but at the end of the day, we have always had each others backs. My little sister is growing into a beautiful and interesting person, and my brother has finally found purpose and direction in his life. We also have two of the greatest beagles in the history of beagles - Snoopy ain't got nothin' on Jack and Lola.

5. I have three friends that I only see a few times a year since moving out here, and I still manage to talk to them at least every other day. Nathaniel, Christine, and Jim - if you're reading this, I love you all. These are three people who are immensely intelligent and talented, but who actually think I'm worthy to be privy to their thoughts. It blows my mind that I should be so blessed with people who have stuck by my side despite distance and difference.

6. I am in good shape, and in even better health. Although I HATE doing it, I work out several times a week, and I have been seeing results. I've also limited my cheeseburger, beer, and soda intake to a much healthier amount and am currently focused on not being a social-smoker. Tomorrow will test that, but I am glad for my health and fitness.

7. I've finished a draft treatment, I'm meeting with the writing partner to discuss it tonight, I'm making headway on a marching show, and I'm actually following through with this Job idea - even if it hurts sometimes. Finally, I'm becoming a writer.

8. I belong to a socially-conscious, growing, and living church that seems to truly pursue Christ-like goals. While I believe my home church is getting there, being in Los Angeles has electrified my faith. This church has provided me with a support system. And because we are all the church united by God's love, it's the one place where I feel like I'm right at home.

9. I have a small circle of people out here that I feel comfortable calling friends. This is more than I could have said a year ago. Whether it's Todd who has been kind enough to take me to Dreamworks events or Lizzie who just gets me out of the house for some "girl time," I'm finally finding a social life that doesn't make me squirm in LA. Tomorrow notwithstanding, of course. I'm also attempting a relationship - something very new and altogether terrifying for me. And he's a good guy who puts up with as much shit from me as he gives out himself. (That was a terrible sentence, and I apologize, but I'm not fixing it.)

10. Tuesday I will be twenty-two. Everyone else at this bullshit Thanksgiving will be older than I am, and most of 'em don't have half this list. HAH!

UPDATE: Today was rather spectacular, and I feel a bit bad about being such a brat all week. The food was good, the people charming, and there were bagels and salmon spread. In all, a very good day.

One is the Loneliest Number, but It Gets More Done

2010-11-20T13:55:00.000-08:00

I finished the treatment on Monday, sent it out on Tuesday, and wasn't read until this morning... after I left to go home. The argument has happened, I'm over it, but it's part of the process, so it's being published.
Working with another writer who is reluctant as I am to sit down and get to work is going to be a tricky business. I'm sure this is the first of many arguments, but hopefully it will all lead to a final product that works better than we do. Haha.

I'm Finished!

2010-11-15T22:30:00.000-08:00

Okay, so it's far from over, but I love quoting Daniel Plainview any chance I get. Though, it is slightly ironic to be quoting him in regards to a treatment for a script that I'm working on with a partner.

It exists in some sort of workable form, this treatment. It's like a shoot of a tulip. They look so stupid trying to climb out of the ground, a little weak torpedo amongst the melting snow. Then, after a few months and some melting, tulips! Probably not a great analogy, but you'd never guess those stupid little shoots that always seemed too weak to survive the last throws of winter could ever become one of my favorite flowers. That's this treatment. Weak, thin, sort of pathetic, but with loads of potential to be beautiful.

Today also marks my year anniversary with my first job in the film industry. It's pretty amazing - one year, and I still learn more in some single days on the job than I did in all the time I spent in film school. One year. So much has changed, inside my head and my heart, and outside in the parts of the world where I exist. It has gone so fast, and yet so much has happened, I feel like it could easily have been two or three years.

Life is so strange. I try so hard to fit most my days into a routine. Looking back on this past year, though, I don't know how I can have ever been bored.

Singing in the Rain

2010-11-14T21:03:00.000-08:00

Did about three hours of writing today on the treatment. It's finally taking shape. Vaguely, but I can see something there now. It should be finished by Wednesday at the very latest. It is still rough, but I understand the story, where it's going, and how it fits together thematically. It will be fun to go through it with Paul and start fashioning a script.

Honestly, though, this treatment shouldn't be as difficult as it has been. My confidence, for whatever reason, has been ridiculously low lately. I really need to learn to relax. I enjoy writing, especially writing like this, because I feel like there are no stakes attached. It's this incessant desire to impress everyone, this apprehension that I will make a mistake with some unknown dire consequences, has gotten to be too much. I'm exhausted, and it's not worth it.

The marching show has been coming together as well - I finished a very rough first draft, and I've been reading Poe to better capture the tone that the band director wants. It will be fun to start working on that in earnest later this week.

Hopefully, my disposition will return to sunny this week. I don't think I can handle this insecurity anymore. It's exhausting. And I don't like crying outside of movie theaters.

Hurdle #1

2010-11-04T23:18:00.000-07:00

Before getting to the hurdle, allow me to share some positives and progress:

I've done a bit of research regarding culture and politics of Chicago in the 1970s. It was an important transitional period for the city after the tumultuous 1960s. Even today, the influence of politics of 1970s Chicago can still be seen. Just look at the city scramble as another Daly leaves the throne atop the machine today. It's been enlightening, and I have several good ideas. When I discussed these with Paul, we seemed to be on the same page. Perhaps by November 15th, I will have something after all.

Another writing assignment came my way: writing narration for The Pride of Rock Island's 2011 marching show, Pulling Strings. Marching band has been so important to me for so many reasons, and it's so exciting to be a part of it again, especially during my little sister's senior year as center drum major. This is due by Thanksgiving - it needs to be short, simple, and Poe-esque.

Now the hurdle:

In researching the story of Job, I've found I can only handle the smallest doses. For various reasons, I have been incredibly emotional lately. This heightened state of emotionality, along with the subject matter of an eternal God refusing to share our purpose or the purpose of our suffering, has lead to the first intense panic attacks I've had in months. While these fearsome 15-minute struggles are a part of the reason I started writing this script, they are not any more pleasant to experience. I may have to take this script slower than I had originally planned in order to maintain my sanity.

It's funny - no matter how much healthier I feel since the climax of my anxiety troubles in high school, I can't escape it entirely. Sure, these panic attacks have been a source of inspiration, of enlightenment, but they are so painful, so excruciating. I hope someday I can regard them as an unpleasant memory. Here's to navigating this challenge in the midst of the general insecurities that already come with writing.

So Far, So Failing

2010-10-27T19:38:00.001-07:00

I haven't written in the past two days. I have gotten a book for research - The Book of Joby - per the recommendation of a librarian friend. And I am scheduling time tomorrow after work to work. Now I have to follow through with it since I've gone public... right?

I also need to find time to buy my Halloween costume. I hate Halloween, but I am caving into peer pressure and dressing up. We'll see how this goes. My costume is both sexy and witty, so I feel like I will please both the social norm policy-makers and my hipster friends. Score!

On an incredibly mundane note: I bought a permanent coffee filter today. I had no idea these existed, and I'm so happy they do. Coffee accessories should not be this exciting, but here we are.

I'm off to watch Will & Grace.

Let's Try This Again

2010-10-24T20:24:00.000-07:00

After a rousing church service tonight, I've been inspired. The past week or so, I've been in a rut - the first of the two I was tired; the second, PMS-ing. If that's a bit too much information for you, get over it.

Anyway, the point is, despite my many faults and falls lately, I have realized a few things: 1) it's been great for my literary productivity; and 2) I am loved.

With both of these realizations comes a certain amount of responsibility, especially since I am taking them public.

As for the first, I think I'm re-opening this blog to examine my struggle as I write to spiritually-based scripts: one on the book of Job, the other with a writing partner on the idea of a reincarnated soul as it learns lessons across lives. I am writing the first because of my struggle with the entire story of Job: that God created us and can, therefore, allow arbitrary struggle in a person's life regardless of his or her works. It's something that has caused me pain, numbness, and an odd sort of comfort and various respective points of my life. The second script will be a challenge in historical accuracy as it takes place through several historical periods. It will also be interesting to see how I write with a friend whose belief systems vary from my own.
At the moment, I'm in the very early stages of both scripts. For the first, I am, of course, rereading the book of Job - always a different read depending on my life situation. I'm also rereading a short story I wrote on the subject while in high school - I will publish a version of it in a later post. For the second, I'm currently working through the treatment, researching politics and social dynamics in the 1970s in Chicago. If I have readers, please share with me any reading materials that you come across that would help.

And for the second realization, that I am, without question, loved, I only write because it brings me a huge amount of comfort as a struggle through this minor bump in my journey.
Today, I spent the morning with my friend Todd. There is a huge disparity in our ages, life stories, former geographies, and yet, we have managed to become friends. He is one of those rare people that I know would have my back without question. And for whatever reason, he has taken an interest in my life and career and has allowed me opportunities that I would not have had otherwise. Even today, just going to see an advanced screening of Megamind, the new Dreamworks movie, is something that would be otherwise off-limits to me without his help. These simple adventures mean the world to me, and his friendship, the universe. I have no idea how to reciprocate this, and the strangest and most wonderful thing is that he doesn't ask me to.
My afternoon was spent with a wonderful person just talking about whatever. The time itself wasn't so profound as it was leaving and knowing that he looks forward to seeing me again. It's reassuring.
I also had the opportunity to take a small step in securing a broken friendship. This friendship means more than I care to admit, especially since it's rough, rocky, and has as many ookie memories as it does good. And it's good to think that it can, to some degree, be restored in the future.
A call to my mom assured me that I am loved across space and unconditionally. Confession: I talk to her every day, and it's my favorite part of my day. When I don't have the chance, my heart breaks a little.
And then to church. The message was both convicting - I do not live my life to the full and beautiful potential for which God created it - and inspiring - God still uses me even when I am completely off course. And he listens - he listens even when I, in my ignorance, complain and struggle to comprehend a world and universe so much bigger than myself. It was in a moment tonight, after the sermon, when music played, that I heard that still small voice so often mentioned. And I am loved unconditionally by the creator of the universe. Not only am I loved, but I am gifted, and I am given an identity, a space in this world all my own.

Even when I struggle and I'm scared and I'm mired in my own stupidities, I still have the ability to work, and I am still loved by so many good people. I don't deserve this, and that makes it even sweeter.

Here's hoping this helps me to stay accountable to my various projects, and to the people who have somehow invested in my little life.

Ugh - March

2010-03-17T15:46:00.000-07:00

This month is flying by, and it's been SO BUSY!

First, my friend Jordan arrived in town - I helped him move in. The same weekend, my friend Nathaniel came for a two week visit. Needless to say, the end of February/beginning of March were a bit much. But it doesn't stop there - for Oscar weekend, the crew from Laguna Beach/Aliso Viejo came up, Nathaniel and Jordan came over, and it was okay. It was the Oscars - and my big boss was THERE! Holy cow! The two big surprise winners made me incredibly happy; it only means good things for all involved.
So the next weekend, I went to the Hoover Dam and Vegas to see my aunt and uncle. I'll update and post pictures when I'm not at work.
I got pretty sad the week between the Oscars and Vegas. And I had to speak to a Columbia class. Those two facts are unrelated, but that's what happened that week in between. Work has been busy - and that's all I have to say about that.

This has been a month of surprises, both good and bad. People surprises. Personality surprises. I dunno.
This week, however, I've felt a lot better. Ever since Sunday, actually. I feel like none of this post is making sense, but there's been a lot going on, and I can't really sort it out in a public forum because it's all in my head.
Maybe once I start to get everything sorted out - once I have a moment to breath - I'll talk more about it.

This weekend, my mom and my little sister arrive in LA for a visit. I'm so excited.

I'll breathe in April.

Adventures on Ventura

2010-02-21T15:30:00.000-08:00

The boulevard, of course.
Last night, Jadi, one of my roommates, took me out to dinner with some friends of hers. Good wine, good food, and good conversation. Loved it.
These three gentlemen then suggested we go out afterward, so we went to a bar called Oil Can Harry's. Turns out, it's a gay bar, and it's 70s disco night.
I grabbed a gin and tonic and panicked for a moment - I don't dance, so it was terrifying.
Then I looked around. Middle-aged gay men in the valley can't really dance either, so I jumped in...
and I had so much fun. Blondie's "Heart of Glass" started playing, and I joined Jadi, her friend Jenny, and the guys on the dance floor. Such a strange feeling, that moment when I just stopped caring. But it felt awesome. I've gotta do that again.

Trampled by an Avatard, or Why I Hate Everyone

2010-02-19T15:37:00.000-08:00

Last night, I had a ticket for the Writer's Guild Beyond Words Nominees Panel. It was beyond words, all right. Then I went to bed, my anger subsided, and now I'm calm enough to sift through the ordeal.
And I am at work, so I should be able to maintain a socially acceptable level of calm to retell the horrors of a room full of egos, maniacs, and humanity's proverbial dregs.

My evening started innocently enough. There was a group of five poorly and overly dressed 18-20-somethings standing in front of me sounding stupid. Probably from USC. No offense to any USC students, especially since the wonderful Scott Brown wrote and directed Blue Movies (www.watchbluemovies.com - GO THERE), but that's my guess. I chalk up my annoyance with them as me being hungry and teething.
So we go in, everyone sits down. The event starts nearly a half-hour late. The room is set up poorly - cameras front and center so no one can see, microphones for the Q&A set up in the middle of the aisles so EVERYONE is inconvenienced. These mics are wireless, by the way, and could easily be carried to anyone with a reasonable question within the theater. Like those of us who wanted to ask legitimate questions but did not want to sit on the floor in a skirt. I need to do laundry. I wore a skirt. Sue me.
Judd Apatow is a lovely moderator, and the evening begins interestingly. The writers all have interesting answers, they joke, they respect each other, and Geoffrey Fletcher, who wrote Precious, isn't a comedian. Big surprise. The writer of PRECIOUS isn't FUNNY. I'm fucking shocked.
So people don't like him. Writers, unproduced, skeezy writers don't like the guy who lived our lives struggling to make it for years and years and finally got his big break. Because their jealous, don't possess empathy, and probably suck at writing so they're going to keep struggling.
One woman clapped during one of his answers as though she were going to stop him from speakning. This woman, who smelled, was sitting in front of me. I whispered for her to stop. Fuck it - I wanted to hear what he had to say. He's coming from teh most familiar place, so he's probably got some of the best advice. Right? Oh wait - that would be LOGICAL. And half these people were there to see Cameron, so clearly logic is not high on their priorities.
God bless James Cameron, though, for shutting up the stupid nerds with stupid questions. He managed to tell people to stop talking while complimenting his fellow writers in a way that was sincere and showed his respect and love for film making.
And he made it very clear that he makes films for audiences, and it's really obvious to me now why he is so successful. Not that True Lies wasn't enough - it's just cool to see it in person.
Jason Reitman, on the other hand, loves himself, his overblown facial expressions, and his pie chart. Fuck that pie chart. I'm going to start keeping my own chart of how many times Reitman mentioned it. Ungrateful basterd. I'd love to be in a position where people could ask me questions, even the inane, ridiculous, and borderline retarded questions that he must get asked over and over and over again.
Poor poor baby.
Aaaaaaaaanyway, the evening ended, most mercifully, and people milled about. I got shoved into a cupcake, got frosting on my hand, so I decided to escape into the theater to try and meet either Scott Cooper of Crazy Heart awesomeness, or perhaps Lucas or Moore of Hangover fame since they came into speak to my class and I had an original draft of their script. This did not happen because I was pushed repeatedly and then trampled by an Avatard chasing after Cameron. And when I say trampled, I mean he stepped on my foot, but it still hurt and my toe bled a little.
When I tried to talk to other people waiting in line, when they weren't literally shoving their way in between me and the writers, I got asked what I did for a living. I suppose that's normal small talk. Only when I say I work at a production company, it immediately turns into "I have this script..." networking. I don't care if you have a script. So do I. Why would I put yours, which is probably crap because you're unrepresented and pandering to me, an assistant, in my boss' inbox?
Yeah, I can't figure that one out either. But again, logic was in short supply last night.
By the time I got home, I was too upset to do anything but cry myself to sleep.

I did meet Judd Apatow, very briefly. Not only was he an awesome moderator, but he's a pretty neat dude with a funny nose.

So, with a new respect for James Cameron, I still really hate LA, people, and this industry sometimes.
Why can't we all behave like animators?

Weirdest, Most Lucid, Most Narrative Dream I've Ever Had

2010-02-18T12:31:00.001-08:00

Last night, I had a dream that there was a zombie disease infestation. People were getting scared because you couldn't tell who was infected and who wasn't. The infection made you smarter, colder, more Hannibal-like, but it also made everyone hungry for flesh. I didn't have it, but I wasn't scared to go outside because I was really annoyed with the people I was stuck with, and the house was too small. I left.
As I was running along, people started hunting me because they thought I was a zombie. Which I clearly was not. I was laughing and smelling flowers and just enjoying life where everyone was off the streets. As people started to threaten me, I ran into this really nice house to escape, and two toddlers approached me. They were very articulate, clearly infected, and they both called themselves Colby. In fact, this infestation was something like a hive mind, an alien, that was one, but took over many humans and used their small brains to enact its small tasks. We became little hands of the bigger whole. A real collective consciousness. I took care of both the babies named Colby (what a STUPID name for a godlike infestation, right?!), but they wouldn't let me get infected and become smart like them. So I just hung out and enjoyed being around the little brains and away from the stupid house. But they found us, and they started to attack the house, so I woke up.
Or something like that. The details are fuzzy now, but it was a super real, super lucid, super narrative dream. The babies were really cute. And they respected me, so they didn't try to eat me. I liked their selection process - sorta like how we treat some animals as pets, eat others, and don't care at all about plants.
But I think I've got to stop eating chips and drinking Stella and watching Henson in the evening.

Asking for Trouble

2010-02-15T20:52:00.000-08:00

I saw three fantastic movies this weekend. I've been writing.
I spent Valentine's day narrating The Holiday to a friend via AIM.
I've drank more Stella than I care to disclose.
And I've been very happy and very sad.
Gotta love a holiday weekend.
I realized, though, after An Education, that I need to grow up. And perhaps that means I need to hurt just a little.
I say I want to find a Henry Higgins or maybe a David Goldberg (An Education reference, forgive me) to, as I told my friend earlier, show me the other person inside me and bring her to the surface. I need to fall in love and have my heart broken.
I need to dance with another person and let go of that fear.
I need to live a life that is, for a moment, as idealistic as I feel right now.
See - asking for trouble.
Bring it on! For God's sake, bring it on!
I went from a very small world that didn't fit to a very large world that is so much bigger than I could have ever dreamed, and I'm lost.
Perhaps a first love would be like weight training. It would stretch and tear at that stupid little heart muscle so it can grow. So I can grow.

And there that is.
Good night, and here's hoping for some adventure and a few torn muscles along the way.

Slow Day at Work Means Interesting Discussion

2010-02-12T14:42:00.000-08:00

First - today is a day I hate folks who went to film school and this new wave of "hipsters" who simultaneous revile and steal culture so that soon we will have nothing but genres.
I love the commercial film industry. It is not evil because we are not artists. Unless we're animators, then art is not our primary goal. And animators could bear that title, and most choose not to. They just love the work. Funny ol' world, idn't it?
That being said, this is a brilliant industry, beautiful as it is convoluted. So -
Understand the system before you criticize commercial film makers, and then take a moment to realize that there is almost no such thing as an independent film any more. Not like we want to think there is. Independent film is as much of an illusion as our cultural ideas of happiness. And I don't mean that as a cynic, I mean that as someone who sees something seriously wrong with the lack of culture, community, and commonality of purpose that used to make us human. Or humane.
And perhaps, selfish being that I am, I am hypocritical in saying any of this.
But today I was stuck in a facebook argument - I'll remark on that tragedy in another post because facebook, like "film makers", has worn me thin.
Big films, broad films, fund little films.
Sometimes, books, such as those by Isaac Asimov, don't get sold unless they can be made bigger, better, faster. Asimov is going the way of the dodo. Emmerich directing Foundations might not be ideal, but if he's willing, maybe another junior high or high school kid will hear about the original books and learn something new.
And hell, if there's an audience for it, doesn't that validate it as film?
A slippery slope, I know, but it's a question, not necessarily my belief.
Which brings me to number 2.
The New York Times had a photo accompanying their article about the Georgian luge racer killed at the Olympics. His last moments of life became a horror photo instead of a tragedy.
Sure, there is free speech. And sure, I don't believe in censorship, but what happened to taste and respect?
Perhaps if this were a film pitch, if this were a story being made about the incident and not a news article about the film itself, then maybe it's appropriate. But as it stands, I'm not sure this is. I think it's sensationalism at the expense of his family, friends, and fellow racers who survived him.
A frustrating day for media. Except for this:

It's a Beacon movie! Suzann Ellis, mentioned as EP in the article, is the woman for whom I work! Go Suzann! Go Beacon! I'm super excited for this project!

The Annie Awards

2010-02-07T13:17:00.000-08:00

Last night, my friend, a storyboard artist named Todd, took me to the Annie awards. He's awesome, and super talented, and you've probably experienced his work if you've seen Muppet Babies, Prince of Egypt, some of the Madagascar films, or if you go see How to Train Your Dragon. And he introduced me to some film makers that would be my favorite if they ever asked for big flashy credit.
It was strange - these were the people that illustrated my childhood. I met an artist from Beauty and the Beast - the first movie I ever saw in a movie theater. And another who did Aladdin and Toy Story. I have spent a majority of my time in life as these people's target audiences, and I loved to see how much they loved their work, their community, and hearing from an absolutely giddy audience member.
It's such a different, lovely world from Live Action, and it's someplace would like to be. I believe I am going to make it a point to learn to draw. I really loved last night, and it was awesome.
Minnie Mouse gave tribute to Mickey, who passed away this past year. Goofy and Donald helped, and it was truly one of the most beautiful moments I've ever seen. They changed their voices, and suddenly the whole of their persons changed into the characters I grew up knowing and loving. It was actual magic, and it shows the power film can have when truly passionate and caring people come together in a positive way!

Welcome to Church, Enjoy the Show

2010-01-31T19:57:00.000-08:00

Today was a strange day capping off a strange week.
I decided to fast because this week was full of shit, and I wanted it out of my system. Starting the week fresh.
I took a hike, worked out for 30 minutes, and I felt good. Bought a desk calendar to remedy a previous fuckup, and I'm set.
So then I go to church - pretty standard on a Sunday. Only my trendy and interesting church pushed things a little too far. This week, we were encouraged to bring friends to church. Okay, great. And they have little gifts for first-time attenders. Personally, it'd be nice if they did this every week. Then people who found the place on their own would also receive a warm welcome, not just those humoring the weirdo at work.
Aaaaanyway - the service continues, and it's pretty neat. Lots of music. Creepy guy who can't clap sat next to me. And then it became showy in a way that it'd hadn't before. Instead of the usual three people on stage, everyone dressed a little hipper, and there was a guy with an acoustic guitar. And a dance team. We've had dance before, but seriously? The service proceeds, and the welcome is overwarm, the entire pastoral staff is there, and next thing I know Michael Jackson's Man in the Mirror is being performed by the choir. Really? Aren't we pandering just a little? When they come back next week and realize we're still church, won't people feel a little duped? I understand putting one's best foot forward, but today was the first time since attending this particular church in LA I felt like a kid back in the Evangelical Free Church in the Midwest at the big exciting rally. Jesus was never flashy. He was certainly consistent in the way he presented people. There was no need to "lure people in." People went to him with problems or went to him when they didn't have anyplace else to go. I feel like that's common enough in LA that as long as a church presents itself as a safe place without judgment, people will come and stay and listen to what it's all about.
But the pandering was obvious, and it was slightly embarrassing. That's not my God, that's not my belief, and even I felt a little intimidated by just how trendy awesome everything was.
Oh well. No place is perfect just like no people are perfect. All is forgiven, and I will, of course, be back next week.

Revolutionary Road

2010-01-17T00:10:00.000-08:00

About an hour ago, I finished the film Revolutionary Road. I didn't know what to expect coming into it, but the ending threw me. I got it, I had heard it was coming, but that scene in front of the window hurt to watch. It hurt and it was real and it was honest and it was beautiful all at the same time. I haven't been moved by a film like that since 2007. Actually, that's not true because "It's a Wonderful Life" just threw me like Lincecum throws pitches, but this is too much at once.
Melatonin to sleep tonight. My brain hurts.

I'm Not There

2010-01-06T14:20:00.000-08:00

I'm still not back from my trip - at least my brain isn't. I spent no time going out at home and nearly all my time visiting different people in Chicago. Sleep in, lunch, drinks, dinner, night - each with a different person or people every single day. I did not pace myself well, and I did not get to see as many folks in Rock Island as I would have liked. And my visits in Chicago were imbalanced - perhaps I tried to see too many people. But such is circumstance. So much of grown up is lost in silence. We run out of words or we never get the chance to say them.
And now I'm back at work. New year means lots of small adjustments. It's also given me a chance to really reorganize my desk and my cabinets to fit me. Gotta love the purge.
My body aches - I've been working it too hard in my morning workouts, especially after 12 days of gluttony. And I haven't slept. And I read Twilight. My brain is just beyond friend.
Plus, the script I was editing was a real downer. I'm glad to have some time away from it.
Sorry to be so whiny. I'm actually quite happy. Just totally lost and distracted and scared about my first whole year as a grown up. No school, no grades, no classes. Just life.
Oy.

Some Kinda New Year

2010-01-04T18:24:00.000-08:00

12 days, uncountable calories, one coat, two gloves, a zillion happy reunions, several fuck-ups, revelations, mystical experiences, tears, smiles, and hugs later, and I am back in LA.

And I'm glad for it.

LA is home now, in a weird "Hi, I reside in Hell." sort of way.

It was funny to realize that I wanted to be here, but I do. I may not always like it, but perhaps that's just the way life is supposed to be. We're not meant to be entirely happy or feel entirely good all the time.
Leaving Rock Island was easy, except for saying good-bye to my family. Saying good-bye to friends in Chicago was easy, but leaving the city was hard. I love Chicago, I love the CTA, I love easy access to everyone always, and I love walking. Even when it's -7 and I'm stuck in the frigid cold lost in Wrigleyville.

I've not felt like myself at all, though, since I've been back. I had a strange Saturday, and everything feels like a lucid dream, not like reality. Which is a shame because it's a reality I'm ready to embrace.

Oh well. I'm going to blame air travel. While still drunk. Or hungover maybe. Thanks mom, for that January 1st flight. I pulled an all-nighter on New Year's Eve into New Year's Day, jumped in a cab, hopped on a plane, attempted and failed to sleep sitting next to a fat person, and then attempted and failed to sleep sitting next to an interesting piano teacher from San Francisco. Then I failed to sleep when I got home because I was not sure how to feel. And in all this, I forgot to eat at all.

Oh me.

Happy New Year!

Because I'm 93% certain no one reads this anymore...

2009-12-17T14:08:00.001-08:00

I'm doing my personal "Best of '09 list.
Keep in mind I saw about 8 movies this year since I was poor as fuck for a good 9 months of the year.
Here they are:
1. Up - I laughed, I cried, and I furthered my theory that porky Asian kids are the best.
2. Ponyo - no, it's not Miyazaki's best. The conflict is questionable, but damn it when you're broke and sad and a million miles from home chasing a dream, there's nothing like Miyazaki and little kids.
3. Coraline - Beautiful, creepy, so much fun!
4. Bad Lieutenant - HERZOG HERZOG HERZOG
5. Public Enemies - Guns sounded good, but they were all badass enough to weild a tommy gun with one hand. Slow, pensive, amazing and CHICAGO!
6. Me and Orson Welles - Absolutely charming, well-written. And hey! Zac Efron can act!
7. Jennifer's Body - Diablo Cody made a fan out of me.
8. Up in the Air - The only "Oscar Movie" on my list, but it really was that good.

The worst:
1. Where the Wild Things Are - Let's not even get started. In fact, see my earlier post.
2. GI Joe: The Rise of Cobra - Seriously? Suits?
3. Transformers: Revenge of the Fallen - Michael Bay showed up at my screening. I love the guy, but damn it if it wasn't like he spat on his audience for two and a half hours.
4. The Lovely Bones - I had to see this the night the Steelers lost to the Browns - bad fucking night.

I still need to see:
Just about everything else. Except (500) Days of Summer - I saw that one, but it's not one of the best. And I Love You Man and Funny People - same stories.

The Things for which I am Thankful

2009-11-26T07:06:00.000-08:00

1. An amazing family with two of the greatest parents ever, an awesome younger brother, and an wonderful pikachu little sister.
2. Great friends back in Chicago who have stayed in touch for ten months or longer that include Teenerz, my "brother" Dave, Jimothy, Tall Drunk Tall Mike, Sabrina the best roommate ever, Andy Hannonahnahnah, and the rest.
3. A full-time job with a wonderful company and a kind, patient, and talented producer.
4. Getting to work with my producer heroes Dan Jinks and Bruce Cohen for four months as an intern on the Warner Bros. lot - which is also my favorite studio lot.
5. A good church to call home in Los Angeles and a fantastic Bible study for screenwriters.
6. My cute car that gets me where I need to be.
7. New friends in LA.
8. A comfortable house with low rent.
9. God providing even when I was working only part-time and was whining a lot.
10. Letters from friends at Yale, in the Quad Cities, or in Chicago.
11. Being healthy.
12. Being done with college and sustaining only minimal debt damage.

Life is good. Be Thankful!

Growing Up

2009-11-07T13:08:00.000-08:00

So...
I got a job at Beacon Pictures as an assistant. I'm pretty stoked to have a full-time gig. I was pretty certain I wouldn't. Hollywood moves slowly, and I forget.
My 21st birthday is in 23 days. That's pretty cool.
Perhaps I'll buy a camera so I can finally start posting pictures.
It's so weird how I can actually plan on buying things now. My whole life is about to change a lot. I'll have security. I can settle down, establish routine, and create my own world. While I am beyond excited, over the past three days, a little nervousness has set in.
This is a big job, and I'm really young. I am sure I can do the work, but it's still intimidating to walk into a company like this, fresh out of college. Everything felt so transient since I left home and went to Chicago. Now there will be legitimate constancy, not just the constancy of being able to go home for the summer, but a life to myself. I hope I can manage it like a real adult. Some days, I feel like such a kid, and certainly recently more than ever. Samantha has to grow up a lot, and I'm excited, but I think there's also a sense of loss. It's funny how one phone call, one sentence offering me a job, can set a whole new direction for a life.
But I suppose that's how things go. Once moment changes a whole course and negates process. We don't grow up steadily. It happens in bursts and stumbles and small explosions.
This is my biggest burst yet. While I'm certain I will survive, I'm curious to see what I do as an adult, or someone closer to an adult that I was previously.
Good-bye, Little Sam!

November around the bend

2009-10-30T11:46:00.000-07:00

So, I'm dreading this November. November away from home and friends is the worst - not that I've ever experienced it, but when I think that I will be 21, not celebrating with people my age in my state, and that I will first have suffered Thanksgiving and a lonely night of recognition, I am not looking forward to it.
In response to November Hell (or in an attempt to make it not hell), I have decided to pen my biography in segments, every day, for this month. Apparently, there are a lot of folks who write in their blogs every day in November, so I thought, since I basically own the month in having my birthday at the tail end, I'll finally lay it all out for everyone. My fantastical, romantic, tragic, hilarious, marvelous, super duper life.

And you're in for a treat.

The Waiting Game

2009-10-29T18:05:00.001-07:00

I had a job interview on Friday. It went well. I'm waiting to hear back. And waiting. And waiting. The worst part is that this is a job I want more than any other entry-level position I've applied for in Hollywood. It is an assistant position at Beacon Pictures for Suzann - the wonderful woman for whom I interned in between my producing and directing classes. I love the company, I love their films, and I have so much respect for Suzann. There are people applying with more work experience, but I think I have the best work ethic for the job. I would work so hard for Suzann and this company because I actually care. I also have a lot riding on this. Two of my references are very close to her and the company, and I would hate to disappoint them. I know the company's projects in development since I was an interned and covered all those projects. I could keep going, but it does little good and it makes me more anxious. So I'll just keep waiting.

On the upside, some of my impatience was sated when my shoes and dvds - bought courtesy of the Jinks/Cohen Company - arrived in the mail this week. Thank you Amazon! I got the cutest pumps to match my dress for the Chicago Impact Awards, and I got Baz Luhrmann's Red Curtain Trilogy and Pare Lorentz's WPA documentaries about the Midwest! One is called The River and actually features footage from my hometown. It made me cry when I watched it to see my River. I miss it so much.

So that's it right now. Waiting and waiting and waiting. I'm like Chuck Norris... I don't sleep because I'm anxiety-ridden and waiting for SOMETHING to happen.

I'm Sick and You'd Better Stay Out of My Way

2009-10-21T21:12:00.001-07:00

When I'm sick, there are two things that make me feel better: food and yelling at people.
Normally, I have a very small appetite (unless there is a plate of chili cheese fries in front of me), and I'd rather just find a corner and cry, but not when I'm sick. No no. Today, I ate four bowls of three different kids of soup, a turkey burger, sweet potato fries, leftover pizza, cheesepuffs, a Twix bar (or two Twix bars, I guess), and a bowl of cereal. That's like a week of meals.
I also had to drive to the auto repair shop today. During morning rush. Those people can die. I hate Land Rovers. Suck a fat one, Land Rover drivers - you're probably stupid and you'll have stupid babies and you're the reason this world is stupid.
It doesn't help that I had a shit weekend at work in which I got in trouble twice for server's mistakes and manager's mistakes. I hate being at the bottom of the restaurant totem pole. I also hate getting in trouble for refusing to help customers who are rude to both other patrons and my servers. In what world should those people get my time of day?
I'm also incredibly nervous. Friday, I have a job interview for a job I would truly love as an assistant for a woman I really respect. To my readers who are praying people: drop a line to the Big Guy for me (or Big Gal - hell, let's clear this up: Big Celestial Being). To those who don't pray, keep me in your thoughts.
To those who actually read this: really? Awesome.
So I'm feeling sarcastic and pissy and PMS-y (yes, PMS exists, and if you wish to argue that, I wish to punch you in the face. Point proven). Yep. That about sums it up (cough cough, hack hack)

Haha. Have a wonderful night.

Where the Wild Things Are, there is not plot

2009-10-16T08:20:00.000-07:00

I went to Where the Wild Things Are last night and just wanted to have a wonderful time. It was a nice time, but the movie just fell flat. I mean pancake or crepe flat.

There was absolutely no plot, it was sad all the way through, and I have so many unanswered questions.
Why did The Bull not have a name? Why didn't he speak? How come he was by himself the whole time?
Little Max had a chance to make things better for the island's lonely monsters, and while he fixed things for Alexander, he fell terribly flat with the poor bull. He also never really had fun on the island. It made me more sad than it did happy, and that's not the spirit of the book. The book was dark and dangers for a bit, sure, but it's not Coraline, and you can respect kids and still have moments of happiness in a film. In fact, every film needs a couple happy moments so people stay engaged. It just got to the point where it felt long. I fell out of the movie world and into the theater too many times.

I guess I'm disappointed. It was a movie made for dirty little hipsters and film students so they can gush over Spike Jonze, not a movie that honored the book and brought its excitement to a whole new generation.

Where is plot? Have writers forgotten how important it is? In my recent readings and watchings, they seem to care more about gushing over how awesome they are for creating the characters and the world and forget to do something with those elements that will make them effective.

Last Names

2009-10-13T13:05:00.000-07:00

Yesterday, I had a conversation with my mom. We discussed my cousin and her two daughters and how none of them have the same last name. Then it occured to us how very arbitrary last names are. So, maybe someday, I will legally change my last name. And when I do, I want my new name to rhyme. So I proposed this to my friend Nathaniel today: Samantha Jane Buttrefli-Rayne. Butterfly-Rain has a wonderful ring to it, but the spelling is a little phonetic, and since my first two names are already so very pronounceable, I want a last name that is a little more fun.
So there that is.

On an even happier, more legitimate note, IT'S RAINING IN LOS ANGELES! Mordor is no-more-dor! I love it. Today, I donned my leather jacket and my scarf to buy stationary, then came home, and I'm writing and writing and writing (as evidenced here) and reading Harry Potter for the bazillionth time because I'm super lame.

Bible study tonight; no Jink/Cohen tomorrow - we'll see how that goes. I have a feeling I'm going to miss it more than I realize. But to cheer me up, my dear friend Andrew is flying in from Valparaiso to see me! YAY!

Hebrews 12:1-2

2009-10-09T09:50:00.000-07:00

At church on Sunday and in Connect Group on Tuesday, we read, studied, and discussed this passage:
Therefore, since we are surrounded by such a great cloud of witnesses, let us throw of everything that hinders and the sin that so easily entangles, and let us run with perseverance the race marked out for us. Let us fix our eyes on Jesus, the author and perfecter of our faith, who for the joy set before him endured the cross, scorning its shame, and sat down at the right hand at the thrown of God.

For so much of my life, I have always thought of this as another "Be good for Jesus" verse. These are important, yes, but it struck me in a very profound way on Tuesday that this passage is assurance that there is a path marked for me. The race I'm running is not the aimless Hollywood rat race, whose finish line is "the top" with no reward except a long trip back down. My race is one of reward and promise, and of something beyond this life. Sure, I might not see the reward now, but I do have a path, and right now, when I feel so often like I'm floundering, this is the greatest reassurance I can have. I just have to run with perseverance. This might be the hardest part since I have been blessed thus far in my life with immediate successes for hard work. But yesterday, and this past week, I've been given many reasons to persevere - the little water stands along the marathon route, if you will.

Yesterday was my last at Jinks/Cohen. It was sad to go, but I am excited for what the future holds, and I left knowing I have four fantastic, talented, wonderful people in my corner. I learned so much, and I realized that I am doing better out here in LA than I realized. (Thank you, Michael Milberg for pointing that out!) I've made some fantastic contacts, I've got a decent house and car and friend group, one part-time job (hopefully two soon!), and a steadily growing writing portfolio.
Sure, it's lonelier than Chicago, but I'm also no longer in school, no longer meeting people through classes, and no longer in student housing with other people like me.
Slowly but surely, my friends will start to make their way out here, and I will be able to help them - to do the un-Hollywood and make sure they don't have to go through what I've gone through (in terms of loneliness).
Of course, this also means I need to be more disciplined about my writing. I need to set goals and deadlines, and I need to ensure that I have a well-rounded, well-written set of writing samples when I start looking for management in March.
So Gary will be finished in two weeks - one draft. I already know what about half my re-writes are going to be, but I need to focus on getting this damned story OUT THERE.
I had a really good idea for an action-drama, and I'm going to start researching and outlining that this week. Or now, since the other tab is opened on my browser. I'll give more details as I hash it out, but I'm excited.

Here's to a bright future - one marked out for me if I can just persevere.

Smiling and Clapping

2009-10-06T17:48:00.001-07:00

Christine, a dear friend of mine, has been doing the loveliest day-to-day photo documentation of her October. I look forward to it every day and so should you.
Visit:

Wednesday afternoon and Thursday are my last "sessions" interning at Jinks/Cohen. It's been an amazing time, but I think I've been there long enough. Altruistically, I'm going to say that it's time to give someone else a chance to seize this opportunity. Realistically, I can't keep working for free and make rent. I'm sad, though. It feels like I'm releasing my last "live" connection to the film industry. While I know that's not the case, it's also one less thing to brighten my week. This will require some ingenuity on my part - keeping myself busy until I find a full-time job or a second (or third) part-time one.
Already, though, I have written a lot, and I've gotten a lot of work done on various projects with other people. I think I needed to let go of the security to really kick my ass in terms of living in the real world.
I found out that one of my closest friends in the LA area will be making his way back to Chicago at the end of the month. This is a bit of a bummer. And when I say a bit, I mean huge. I'm a little nervous. One less friend means one less excuse for me to get out of the house and live a little. One less friend means one more reason to hide and wallow. But again, maybe this ass-kicking is what I need to branch out a bit here in La-La Land.

Speaking of serious ass-kickings, my little sister, the youngest drum major of the RIHS Marching Band, better known as The Pride of Rock Island, has been doing so well in competition. It's so cool to hear about her flourishing in high school. She's so much better at drum majoring and high schooling than I ever was. It will be great to see her come Christmastime when I go home to visit. I miss her so much, but it's such a bright spot every time I get to talk to her about what she's doing.

Saturday, I think I'm going to walk to the top of a mountain. I've been hanging out in the in-betweens for too long.

One Good Week, The Pittsburgh Steelers, and What is this - High School?

2009-10-05T15:01:00.000-07:00

I made rent on my own last week - without help from my parents. It felt good. Until I looked at my bank account. And got the energy and water bill. Biggest joke of my life. God love my wasteful roommate, because I sure don't sometimes.

I quit Jinks/Cohen. This week is my last week. I'm calling it the Samantha Garrison reclamation project. Another joke, right? Who knows.
But last week, from Monday to Sunday night, was a really solid week. No idea why.

I love football. The Steelers finally won! Watching them play never ceases to make me smile, even when they lose. There's just something about football and being a fan and being personally connected to something both intelligent and barbaric - something like controlled war. Love it.

Today, I spent the day applying for non-film jobs. It's like being in high school again. "Hey, can I get a job application? I'm a college graduate who can't find a job in the field for which she spent two years and a gazillion dollars. Wanna help me out?" Hooray humility lessons, right?

On the upside, at least my other part time job at the sports bar allows me the chance to watch football and eat chili cheese fries - my favorite!

Enough complaining. Last week really was awesome. From Monday to Sunday, I felt light, happy. And I made progress with the koala!

In Response to Kanye

2009-09-15T08:25:00.001-07:00

I made a post on my facebook this week. A very tongue-in-cheek reference to Kanye which stated that "I bet Beyonce was flattered." Clearly a joke given her face in the video. However, people's responses to Kanye West have been somewhat infuriating. It speaks volumes about the gender and racial attitudes in our society.

A black man cannot cry for attention and receive an ounce of empathy - not even one who lost his mother to a lifestyle he created to support her. Kanye West experienced legitimate tragedy recently, and while he may be a little pompous, he's still a human being. Had we flipped the scenario - had Taylor Swift done this to Kanye - everyone would have been worried for her. People would have talked about her career, her struggles as a teen-age girl, whatever. For the record, she gave up her right to being a teen-ager when she became a public figure. She's also 19, so come off it, folks. As an artist, she should be able to take criticism. The point is, when Britney crashed and burned at the VMAs two years ago, people expressed concerned, yet this irresponsible lump of a human being who could not fulfill her job is a mother of two - talk about failing at the expense of others. Kanye just provided some colorful commentary. So, folks, let's step back and think for a moment. Why did Kanye do this? Why is his attitude so poor? And why can we forgive Britney Spears again and again? Why do we continue to allow women to whine and cry and meltdown on stage?
We are still stuck in a mindset that women can cry and men cannot. That women deserve sympathy and pity, and men do not. Let's remember that equality goes both ways, folks. And Taylor Swift sounded much stupider than your average 19-year-old when giving her acceptance speech. Kanye saved her dumb butt and turned her into a sympathetic figure.

It's Amazing What a Little Sunshine Can Do... Or Maybe It Was The Pittsburgh Steelers

2009-09-11T21:35:00.000-07:00

Troy came back. Then he got hurt.
But The Invincible Superman will return. Here's hoping for three weeks out instead of six. Troy Polamalu is the Michael Jordan of football. There is something in watching him play that just inspires. He can do anything, and he makes the whole team perform better. There is just something about him - he's got a fire in him that gives him a superhuman vibe. Or maybe it's just the superman cape of hair he's got. Who knows? Regardless, despite having to watch by myself, I love watching football. It makes me feel a part of something bigger than myself.

Now that the sunshine has melted Mordor, LA looks a little better too. I had a job interview yesterday, and another job presented to me today. Here's hoping one works out for me! There are also several potential projects on the horizon, many of which I hope work out. Everything holds so much promise, espcially compared to last week.

My koala has grown substantially and currently resides on the one-liners of multicolored notecards on my wall. Slowly but surely he is coming to life, a manifestation of the power of human imagination. And his villains - the nightmares we create when we're scared of an unstable world - finally revealed themselves to me. I love meeting villains, especially when I know their demise. It's wonderful to create something only to destroy it - that pleasure of being a little kid with Lincoln Logs and some dinosaur toys. Build build build and RAAAAWR. It's a triumph all around, creation and destruction.

I need more though. A new idea. Salvador Dali has become an inspiration. Looking at his paintings - feeble online replications - is like watching Troy Polamalu. It is a talent that gives to those who can take the time to appreciate it. I found out there is a Dali Gallery not too far from here. I think I'll be making a trip sometime in the near future. I like getting lost in my head and spilling it onto paper. I need to take a weekend and immerse myself in Dali and Ginsberg and Beethoven and watch football when Polamalu gets better. I need to be inspired on all fronts. I need to fill myself up with beauty so I can make my own.

So here's to an exciting fall. I suppose I could quote F. Scott Fitzgerald, but instead I'm just going to say that I like the smelling of burning leaves and life taking a break, and I wish I could replicate those sights and smells and sounds for you, but I recommend you just get your ass to the Midwest along the Mississippi River and experience it for yourself.
Excuse the run on sentence and have a wonderful night.

Living in Mordor

2009-09-02T21:54:00.000-07:00

One does not simply walk into Mordor. It's black gates are guarded by more than just orcs. There is evil there that does not sleep. The great eye is ever watchful. It is a barren wasteland, riddled with fire, ash, and dust. The very air you breathe is a poisonous fume. Not with ten thousand men could you do this. It is folly.

One does not simply walk into Los Angeles. One drives. And badly. While there aren't orcs, there are plently of orc-like Armenians who would rather kill you than tip you for any service. There is an evil here that does not sleep - traffic. It is a barren wasteland with skinny squirrels, no rivers, drought, in addition to the standard fire, ash, and dust. Taking a deep breath any morning this week is like breathing in a poisonous fume. Tens of thousands of people come every year, only to watch their dreams crushed. It is folly.

The only difference is that LA lacks any sort of great eye. Instead, everyone is invisible but massive. We run into one another, but not in a Whitman-esque sphere-of-the-soul way. We run into each other as invisible duffelpods like the creatures in the Chronicles of Narnia. Single-minded, sad, and living in some mass status quo that not only crushes dreams, but manipulates those that survive into something even Langston Hughes could not have imagined for his deferred dreams.

Yes, I live in Mordor. And I have no Frodo to my Sam, and nothing vice-versa. I entered the black gate alone, so no one will know if I survive or not.

Perhaps I should figure out what the proverbial ring is in my life, that way I have, at the very least, a goal for its destruction. As it stands right now, I'm wandering the wasteland, breathing in the toxins, and all I think of is the home I may or may not see again.

But then again, the hobbits made it out alive, so why can't I?

The Man-Hating Entry

2009-09-01T17:17:00.000-07:00

This week, I think I hate most men.
If anyone says anything more about how I look, I will proceed to tell any and every man I know everything that is wrong or unattractive about his physique in the most emasculating way possible.
I'm serious.

Between working at the bar and existing as a woman in Los Angeles, I want to punch someone in the crotch.
Sunday, at church, I met a friend from Bible study. Dinner after church - a pretty normal occurence - turned into a date. I'm sorry, but I am not a fan of public displays of affection with even my friends - why would ANYONE possibly believe that they could hug me or - better yet- attempt to kiss me while downtown. Seriously. This happened. And I left. At first, I was too much in shock to bother. Now, I'm just mad. And I have Bible study tonight. Should be interesting.

Yesterday, at work, I had one man tell me I needed to grow my hair out - that I was too cute to try that artsy crap. Again, no joke. Another guy sat behind the hostess stand and offered me a few compliments on my rear end. And yet another called me sugar and kept winking at me while he played pool. Go die. All of you. Curl up in a ball and atrophy. Become the object you seem to think that I am.

That's my venting session for the day. I'm pretty angry, and I miss my Chicago guys who didn't care how I looked as long as we could play guitar and xbox and wander around the city.

This is poorly written and angry, and I'm sorry, but it is what it is.

Invisibles, Fight Nights, and WHERE THE HELL ARE MY COFFEE FILTERS?

2009-08-30T09:17:00.000-07:00

I'm out! I don't know what to do. I'm going to have to go into work early to drink copious amount of coffee before I begin my shift not because I enjoy the caffeine, but because I need routine. And they're coffee is so weak! Ahhhhhh! Things to do today: GET COFFEE FILTERS!
Also, I'm thinking about investing in a French press if I ever get a job.

Yesterday, I went to the post office. Whenever I've gone to a post office, whether it be in Milan, IL (population... something like 6,000)or Glendale, or Downtown Chicago, I expect to wait. And in California, espcially, where the state motto should be "Hurry up and wait," I was fine with the near 25 minutes that I spent in line. After all, it's a Saturday, and I didn't have to work until 5, and I was the lazy ass who could not get out of bed earlier to arrive when the line was shorter. So, I waited patiently after ensuring that my package was perfectly prepped for shipping. There was one woman working the counter - the nice little Asian lady with a haircut like Rose's from The Golden Girls - and she was dealing with a beligerent Armenian. I know - an Armenian in Glendale being beligerent? - but no, he was. A woman steps in line, a typical California woman whose entitlement is all but written on her forehead. She waits probably a minute and says "Why is there only one person working this counter on a Saturday? It is like this every Saturday." The little Asian woman, not wanting to slow the line any more than this Armenian man already has, sorta mumbles something about someone being on vacation and keeps going. So the bitch-lady yells "This is rubbish!" and leaves. I clapped when she left. The idea that this woman was so self-important and self-absorbed that she thought her complaints mattered totally baffled me. Get to the post office on your lunch break during the week, stupid woman. And why is complaining at the sweet lady up front who does not determine post office scheduling and fudning going to help any of us?
I'm tired of how people treat other people. I'm tired of anyone providing a service being invisible. Why is our tendency to treat those on which we depend as though the are less than us? It happens at the restaurant all the time. To the servers, the bar tenders. This gross sense of entitlement people carry with them almost makes me cry. And it really makes me miss home. So many people in Los Angeles exist invisibly - I feel like I'm one of them. Three million people and we cannot connect because we're either too good or not good enough. The concept is so frustrating, so dehumanizing. I don't know how much more I can take. I know that deciding to go into film, to embrace the industry, means deciding to be invisible for years. Hollywood runs on castes, and it's tragic. It's also the reason, I think, why film is becoming so empty and stupid. By the time someone has established enough credit to make a film all their own, the person is either too jaded or too far removed from the reality in which the audience lives to connect on anything more than a superficial level.

Let's make it a goal this week, then, to treat each other as equals and fellow human beings.

I'm Taking Today Off

2009-08-29T09:22:00.000-07:00

I don't feel like loving or hating anything today. It's Saturday, and it's been a long, boring, and bitter week.
Read something else (not that anyone reads this. :-P )

Remember that Scene in The Magician's Nephew?

2009-08-28T08:36:00.000-07:00

The one where the sky is red and the sun is dying and thousands of tall and beautiful people sit unmoving as their world crumbles?
Today looks like someone spoke that deplorable word. Forest fires have blocked the sky and made it toxic. It's so apocalyptic.
On the upside, the unthinkable happened... SOMEONE ACTUALLY RESPONDED TO ME ABOUT A JOB! It's for a receptionist position at Marvista, a distribution company. Not necessarily where I thought I would end up, but if I get the job, I'll learn about a part of the industry that I haven't been exposed to yet.

So, day four of loves, hates, and leaving or not

The fourth love: ASTROBURGER and IN-N-OUT BURGER! I love burgers, and these are amazing! And the sweet potato fries at Astroburger are out of this world.

The fourth hate: I NEVER SEE THE SKY! See above. And in general, I haven't seen stars or clouds in months.

Today, I feel less down, but really lazy. And I can't hike because my lungs would probably explode. Or shrivel. Or mutate into frogs and jump out my throat.

Yesterday, or rather, last night, I watched Dan in Real Life. It was charming. More than (500) Days of Summer, which was also pretty good. Probably a strange comparison, but they're both little movies about relationships, and I they're the last two movies I've watched.
I like little movies about the ways in which people relate to one another. And right now, I'd much rather hear about family than about romance. Plus Dan in Real Life had the dad from Frasier, my favorite sitcom ever!
That's about it. The sky looks orange instead of red. I suppose its clearing up. Perhaps I will get to hike after all.

Hiding in My Room Until My Roommate Leaves for Work

2009-08-27T08:03:00.000-07:00

I can hear her walking around the house, and I really love getting up by myself, making my coffee, and drinking it in peace. Oooooh, I can hear her car pulling away.

Give me a minute to make my coffee. A couple minutes...

Nevermind, Georgie already made some. Awesome! This makes two awesome tidbits in my morning. The first is that, since my cell phone is broken, I had to download an alarm on my computer, so I got to wake up to the acoustic version of Coldplay's Lovers in Japan. Although I'm not a huge Coldplay fan, I LOVE THAT SONG, and it's awesome waking up to it. The coffee is another perk. Yes, pun intended.
Today, I also get to go to Jinks/Cohen - best part of my relentlessly boring week.

And before I go further: yesterday was my mother's birthday, and I feel like a jackass for not mentioning this since my mother is, in fact, the most amazing mother in the world. You can talk until you're blue in the face about your mother, but you'll just be kidding yourself. Mine is the best and she gives the best hugs, and she's coming to visit me in 22 days. So there. I'm sticking my tongue out at you like I'm five and you're four and I'm right and you're wrong.

Now, day three of loves and hates in LA-LA Land.

The Third Love: MOUNTAINS! (And Griffith Park) Being able to hike to the top of the foothills (still mountains by geological definition) and say "I climbed a mountain today" never gets old. Being able to hike nearly every day has been my saving grace for both mind and body. I've seen rattle snakes, coyotes, other snakes, and all kinds of cool California birds on my hike, including little hummingbirds! It's also equipped me with a better sense of direction and a feel for the actual lay of the land. This might be one of my greatest loves, like my River back home. That might be wrong, though, since NOTHING will EVER compare to the Mississippi River at the one spot where the sun rises and sets over the water called Rock Island.

The Third Hate: THE SOCIAL SCENE! Sexist, disgusting, superficial, and uncomfortable, I should probably get used to it, but I'm just not ready yet. No matter where they are going on a weekend, people dress to go out. And no matter how nice or decent or sane a guy is, if he's out in LA, he will treat any woman like some kind of prize for the duration of his time on the town. Maybe I'm nuts, and maybe I've been reading too much into feminist literature, but I was and did before moving to LA, and I was able to go out in Chicago without worrying too much that I looked good, without my goal being to attract as many fauxhawked douche bags as I can, and without having to dance. Even bars aren't like bars in Chicago, where we all went to drink or shoot the shit. People expect so much when they go out, but refuse to create fun for themselves. Forget it, I say. I miss nights on the shores of Lake Michigan when all we needed was a guitar and something to drink. I miss walking and talking and laughing - those times were more fun than the actual parties and gatherings and events. I miss three-flats in Wrigleyville and smokers and non-smokers alike mingling on patios too small for fifteen people. I miss cigar tastings and hookah bars (hookah bars here are SO WRONG) and the Music Box Theater. Maybe I'm missing something in LA, and maybe I just had good people anywhere else, and maybe I just hate driving and dressing up, but LA's social scene is as cliche as it is portrayed in the movies, and I'm tired of it already. I'm almost dreading turning 21 because my excuse to stay home will be gone.

Cell Phone Drama, Plus Loves and Hates

2009-08-26T10:54:00.000-07:00

Yesterday, for no reason that I can discern, my cell phone screen went blank. It still makes and receives calls, but I cannot see anything. How annoying. And I have US Cellular. The nearest store is in NorCal. You sponsor a baseball field and you can't have a store based in LA? Really? I hope the White Sox kick you to the curb. Punks.

So, day two of Sam Doesn't Wanna Go Home Loves and Hates.

Love Number Two: THE BEACH! It's so weird that I can just go whenever I have a few hours to spare, but I love it. Parking costs less than a movie ticket, and I can sit for hours, resting, people watching, play in the water, or walking around in the sand. It's always at least 10 degrees cooler than The Valley, and it almost makes me forget that it never rains in LA.

Hate Number Two: THE TRAFFIC! It makes getting to the beach difficult - or getting anywhere. This might be the bane of my existence, the one thing I hate most. Traffic makes a monster of me. One time, I actually roared in my car with frustration. Embarrassing, yes, but I'm sure anyone trapped in LA traffic has been there.

So that's it. I'm going to go throw a pity party for me and my cell phone!

LA, je t'aime... Or do I?

2009-08-25T11:01:00.000-07:00

Today is August 25th. I'm supposed to have a job by Sept. 1st or ... EEE!

SO, I think I'm going to do a countdown of the things I love and hate most about Los Angeles. One love, one hate every day. Today, I'm going to start superficial, boring, and small. My heart is a little broken with boredom, and I don't think I can be any more fair than judging this city by its weather.

The first love: no winter! I left home on a day that was so cold, my car battery froze. A frozen battery! I'm not kidding! It's so exciting that it's August and I'm not dreading the fall and winter ahead. In fact, I think I like the winter months in LA better than the summer ones. It's nuts!

The first hate: no rain! It's hot, it's dusty, it's gross. Althoug F. Scott Fitzgerald's Valley of Ashes was an East Coast metaphor, sometimes I feel like the eyes of Dr. T.J. Eckelberg should be mounted near the Hollywood sign, looking over the dusty, ashen city. Although I love sunny days, they start to lose their lustre when they don't start with a thunderstorm and a rainbow.

If I do get a job soon, I'm driving north to find rain.

Morbid Plans

2009-08-23T15:25:00.000-07:00

While talking on the phone with my mother one day, we discussed how I would be notified should any of my family members or good friends back home died. While these are legitimate discussions, once I hung up, I went on a jog and played out other scenarios in my head.
What if my brother killed someone in a car accident?
What if my dogs died?
What if someone found out they had cancer?
What if Dad got hurt in a SWAT situation?

This last question is the subject of my most recent children's script, believe it or not. I suppose it's always been a fear of mine, and the resulting course of action never changes: I'd go find him. Life-threatening or not, that would be the one incident that would send me home faster or as fast as death. If it was a life-threatening scenario, the reason is obvious. If not, that is one story I wouldn't miss. I'd walk if I had to, I think, to hear his account of the thing. Me and my dad have a relationship built on stories and sports television. It would be incredibly unfair if I didn't get to see him just because of something as trivial as distance.

But anyway, the whole thought of not being able to see my family during times of need really bothers me. Last night, my grandma went into the hospital. It turned out to be not-so-serious, but I felt the 1800 miles between here and Rock(Is)land like 1800 punches in the stomach. Too stressful. Too isolating. It's not even that I was worried about a worst-case scenario, it's that I was not there to help. Any information was delayed, through text message or phone call, and I felt truly helpless, almost like a nuisance, begging for news. This distance will always feel a little unsafe, I think.

PONYO! and what that means for me

2009-08-16T22:41:00.000-07:00

Last night, I saw Ponyo. My friends were late. But my intense anger aside (I HATE tardiness of any sort), it was an AMAZING movie. Amazing not only because of Hayao Miyazaki's ability to create a collective imagination but because of the experience before, during, and after.
Before the film, I had saved four seats for my late late friends. As the coming attracts started to roll, a woman with an adorable little boy asked if they could take two of the seats. I obliged, certainly too begrudgingly on my part. I had, apparently, forgotten what a blessing it was to watch a movie with a little kid. Through Where the Wild Things Are, Toy Story 3-D, The Fantastic Mr. Fox, and The Princess and the Frog, he looked like his day was made. And the movie hadn't even started. When it did... WOW. Hand drawn and perfect, the movie captivated everyone. My late friend barely distracted me. Although, this might have to do with the fact that I literally waved her away when she asked what had happened in the first two minutes. However, I fell in love. The movie took us all on a ride, and hearing the kids throughout the theater react so happily to an animated film simply drawn and without gimmicks made my heart soar. The little boy next to me was so excited throughout the whole film. Sure, I saw that perhaps it didn't have much of a conflict, and certainly no climax. All he saw was Ponyo and Soske on a magical adventure through sea and land, with a wonderful mother (Tina Fey is SO COOL) and some lovely old friends (props to Betty White and Lily Tomlin for being amazing even as animated characters). By the end of the movie, all I could do was smile and continue to ignore my friend. The little guy next to me left with a smile on his face, happy to have seen Ponyo, the little goldfish turned girl.

After weeks of feeling less-than-confident in my chosen career path, I remembered why I want to make movies. I want little kids to see them. I want every theater to sound and feel like that one that I was in last night.
So I went home and wrote eight pages of Teddy and Gary for that little guy sitting next to me.
Today I wrote another eight for myself. It's so inspiring to know that there is room for imagination in this world, for stories for children that don't treat them as less-than-human, as unintelligent. Ponyo is not Miyazaki's best film, but it is one of the best films in theaters right now. And it inspired and uplifted me to actually write.
It feels so good to know I have a place in this industry waiting for me. Like little Ponyo, I know what I want and I've got the magic to get me there. I can write for kids; I pride myself on being able to write and speak to them as people. I'm so excited to continue work on my script. I understand how to write it now. It's catharsis for me. I told a friend earlier, Gary and Teddy's monsters have become my monsters. When I sit down and write about their journey to save Dad, it might as well be me writing about my journey of growing up, of finding a new relationship with my parents, of understanding what it means to be independent, despite feeling like a kid.

So thank you, Ponyo. Thank you, Mr. Miyazaki. In making me feel like a kid for a night, you helped me grow up in the right direction.

In Response to Mr. Ebert, Part 2, but not really...

2009-08-14T15:59:00.000-07:00

First things first: this was on the NY Times website this week:
http://www.nytimes.com/2009/08/09/movies/09scot.html?_r=1&ref=movies

Sound familiar?

I'm not going to talk about elitist critics. I like Roger Ebert a lot, even if I find that article to be arrogant.

Instead, I'm going to agree, in part, with A.O. Scott, who believes Hollywood is being lazy. And explain why it's their fault, not ours as moviegoers. We will go see movies as long as something is playing in the theaters. That is a tried and true fact. However, Hollywood is struggling to make anything right now, let alone content that is new and exciting and interesting. So, even though I probably won't see District 9 or enjoy it as much as most critics and fans, congrats to its filmmakers for making something interesting, intelligent, and still flashy for just $30 million. You're awesome.
But to Mr. Bay who insulted me by showing up to Transformers 2, to the good people at Fox who raped Wolverine like they wanted their own Southpark Episode, and to Jerry Bruckheimer for going 3-D with nothing but GUINEA PIGS, I give you...

MY PROVERBIAL MIDDLE FINGER.

I loved you all at one point. Some of you still have my love, but you've got your heads too far up your respective butts to care.

The real problem, my friends, is this: the idea that people in Los Angeles are making movies for the rest of us is about as crazy as a schizophrenic on shrooms trying to give someone sane directions through a haunted forest at night. They are so disconnected from reality that they have only strategy and business, not creativity, to govern their movie-making sensibilities. And honestly, the film business model is so screwy that even that is unreliable (a la Terminator, thank you Mr. A.O. Scott).
Producers and writers are put through a fraternity system before being allowed to make anything for audiences that by the time they have their chance, they are nothing but jaded shells of the creative, bright people they once were. How can we expect a 35-year-old man who has spent the past 10 years of his life acting as someone's bitch from behind a desk to be making movies that are relevant or beautiful?
I know this is my own youth and arrogance showing, but I WANT MY CHANCE NOW, DAMN IT.
Hollywood isn't rocket science, and I'm bored. If I take their path, I will continue to be bored until I cannot create anything but the same trite and true formulaic crap like Transformers 2 that currently dominates the film scene.

If we as audiences, as young film makers, as creative minds oppressed by capitalistic cultural forces (wow, I'm sounding like a crazy hipster kid now), do not step up, then we are to blame. So let's act now before people like Mr. Ebert and Mr. Scott are correct. Let's do the Dylan thing and kill our idols (NOT LITERALLY, of course).
Let's take back the film industry designed for us! Let's become Spielbergs and jump the walls instead of drowning in agencies!
Let's dispel the Hollywood hierarchies that these fatty producers fought so hard when they first came to town.

Remember, film is a mass medium. It's ours to control. It is a democracy, much like the theater used to be. And remember, Mr. Shakespeare wrote for the masses to become immortal. Not for the elite. Let's write for our own people, for our own generation. Let's make the movies we want to see instead of just going to see what the boring, jaded, disconnected folks in Hollywood are making.

In Response to Mr. Ebert, Part 1

2009-08-11T09:15:00.000-07:00

http://blogs.suntimes.com/ebert/2009/08/the_gathering_dark_age.html

A friend sent me this article yesterday, and I thought about it long and hard. I'm obviously a little late in my response, but I don't spend all my time in the blogosphere either.

I don't think the American audience is dumber. I think they have too many options. SCANDALOUS you say in a time when I and everyone I know is struggling to find a film-industry job. But think about it long and hard. The idea of a 4-quadrant film is a fallacy. Everything has a genre. Everything has a brand. This immediately limits an audience. The reason people aren't going to see "The Hurt Locker" is because of the stigma attached to limited release. And because of the pretense that comes with a film that was released in major cities first. Trust me, I've been in the small towns that get it last. Why see a movie that was initially designated for "important" or "enlightened" folks living in segregated, crime-ridden major cities? Yes, there are still blockbusters, but even they fall into genres. To call Transformers 2 a four-quadrant film is totally false. It is meant for men and boys. Yes, I saw it, but I was not the target audience. I also saw "Up," and Lord knows I don't have a family of my own.

People are not dumber, but they are overstimulated. With so many choices and so few opportunities for real conversation left in the world, why wouldn't you go see the movie everyone else is seeing. At least the potential for connection is present afterward. And perhaps, with movies like "G.I. Joe" and "Transformers" a chance to reminisce about childhoods that are no longer possible. I don't know a single child who play with action figures anymore. They are all playing with their Wiis an X-boxes. Perhaps online. My former neighbor, only eight, has a facebook! At least with big flashy movies based on our simple toys and complex imaginations, we have a chance to share with this younger generation something they have lost. Maybe.

And maybe we need to rethink our limited releases. Maybe Hollywood needs to stop thinking of Middle America as a cultural wasteland and give them a chance to see "artsy" movies or "obscure" movies first. There was so much I missed before moving to Chicago, cinema-wise, and so much I try to make sure my little sister does not miss. When that rich classmate comes back from having seen an art house film in "The City" (whichever major city is closest), no one in the class wants to see it because no one in that class wants to be perceived as elitist.

The fact of the matter is, there is no single movie in theaters right now that just anyone could go see. Except, maybe, Up. There was a time when people had more freedom, when there was less genre applied to Hollywood. Perhaps "Julie and Julia" could reach a younger audience if it hadn't been so adamantly pushed upon the women 25-50. And perhaps "The Hurt Locker" could reach my girlfriends back in western Illlinois - action-movie loving girls uninfluenced by the gross sexism that pervades major cities - if it had been presented to them before it hit Los Angeles and was branded a "guy movie." A WOMAN DIRECTED IT FOR GOD'S SAKE!

No, Mr. Ebert, young American audiences are not dumb. They are overstimulated. They have too many choices, so they pick the one that will allow them the most chances to relate. They pick the genre that fits into their lifestyle: the "comic book movie", the "video game movie", the "coming of age teen drama", or, my personal favorite, the "event film". They could make other choices, but those labels might be more isolating. The "Oscar film" or the "limited release" or the "indy drama" or the "mid-life crisis" or the "romantic comedy" don't sound like movies one can discuss with classmates in high school or college.

Next entry in response: why critics ARE elitist and how to read film criticism so it does not ruin your movie-going experience.

A Little Part of Me Died... Something Else Took Its Place

2009-08-09T08:27:00.000-07:00

Two days ago, my little sister sent me an iPod in the mail, along with several gifts and books from my mother. I've never really cared to own an iPod, but she had an extra lying about, created a playlist for me, and sent it my way. The day I got it, I took it with me to the park. Usually, I like hiking to the sounds of nature, no headphones. I broke a personal rule and listened to some music. Next thing I know, I was breaking another rule and RUNNING up a hill. I don't run unless I'm being chased. But I jogged most the mile and a half trail. When I finished, I felt amazing! I had so much energy the rest of the day. So, I tried again yesterday. Same thing. So much energy. Today, my legs are incredibly sore, but it feels so worth it. The energy seems to still be there.

Perhaps I need to find another rule to break. Mike is in town this week, so it should be easy. We like to go on adventures and make mischief.

I also did something out of character on Friday and left my house for a party. I suppose it was fun to see my friends, but I still just hate parties. I can't explain it, and I don't care to either. I went to a friend's show at Crane's Tavern as well. It was great. Well worth the stress of leaving the house to go into Hollywood on a Friday night. I'll be going to more in the future.

What a strange weekend. Here's hoping today continues the pattern.

Damage: Controlled

2009-08-06T08:13:00.000-07:00

Tuesday, the temp agency didn't call yet again, so I went to the hair salon. About four weeks ago, I went in while I had that wicked little eye-infection, so I could not see what they were doing to my hair. I ended up with a cut that was practically a flat-top on the top with really long sides. I had to let it grow a bit before cutting it again, and it was finally time. Now, it looks fabulous! I feel human again!

Hair is an amazing thing. Mine often determines my mood. And I think, once I'm employed full-time, I will be coloring it again. Anyone down with dark brown?

In other news, Sunday begins the three months of visitors! This month: Mike, then Jordan. Next month: Mom and DoDa. October: Andrew. Hooray!

I Get It! and other notes

2009-08-02T09:11:00.001-07:00

Last night I watched Office Space. I feel like I've finally been let in on the biggest inside joke ever.

I didn't realize how bad the recession was until I poured my Lucky Charms today. The marshmallows have downsized. They are mini charms, and the two-colored ones lack the cute little details in favor of colored swirls like the generic cereal version.

Yesterday, four chubby little kids came in to eat at Barney's. If I have children (hopefully not), I hope they are portly until about the age of seven.

Mike comes to visit in a week! Jordan comes in just over two! SO EXCITED!

That's about it for today.

Coffee Talk

2009-08-01T09:18:00.000-07:00

Low on coffee because I am too lazy to go grocery shopping, I ground together two types of beans: a Nicaraguan dark medium roast and a French dark roast. Add just a tiny bit of French vanilla creamer, and I achieved coffee bliss.
Last night, I went and saw Funny People with my friend Chris. While it had its flaws, it was charming. Certainly it was a movie I would watch again. Jason Schwartzmann can be such a pretentious POS, but in this scenario, it was absolutely perfect.
We saw the movie at the AcrLight in Sherman Oaks. Walking through the shopping center, it was awesome to see people out on a Friday night dressed in jeans and t-shirts. It was casual, comfortable, and a total return to normalcy. Perhaps not all of Southern California is full of crazy people dressed up for no reason but to get drunk and sweat on a dance floor.
There was a glimmer of hope earlier this week in regards to finding a job. Those of you who are praying folk, continue to do so. A job full time job would be awesome.

What's the Skinny?

2009-07-30T11:19:00.000-07:00

Me, apparently. Certainly, I didn't mean for this to happen, but LA has taken more than just my energy and my confidence - it's taken my substance!
After a lovely little eye infection, and a visit to the doctor, I learned that I've lost enough weight to make me a tiny bit worried (no pun intended). Then I helped a friend with her Fiesta Mission project, and I saw first hand the black hole effect Los Angeles has had upon my person. While the commercial itself was awesome, as is the Ford Fiesta, I looked like a skeleton: pale and bony.

So what gives? I eat chili cheese fries like they're a legitimate food group, I hate exercise, and, due to these wonky things called heel spurs, I've not been able to hike lately.
I think it's the air around here. It's so dry that it sucks up all the water in my person. It makes sense: I'm thirsty and sweaty and icky.

I miss humidity and summer storms.

This certainly is less optimistic than I feel. Honestly, things are going really well.
Jinks/Cohen has been an amazing experience. I'm writing from the office right now. Last week, I covered the assistant's desk for two days. I cannot wait to be an assistant full time. It feels strange to say so, but it's awesome to be the "fly on the wall."

Yesterday, I had a conversation that gave me a small shift in perspective. Perhaps my priorities are not what they should be. I have spent a long time focusing on goals attainable within a time frame, with quantifiable (and superficial) results. Now that the measuring stick I have used for so long is irrelevant, I see now that I need to focus on the present, not the future. For so long, I've been looking forward, and I have failed to see the good all around me - the sorts of success that are less economic and more human or spiritual. It's going to be a difficult shift, but one I really need to make.

August, I think, will be a good month. Hopefully, I will find a job. Mike and Jordan are coming to visit, and I start temping. I start a Bible study for screen writers, and, hopefully, I'll meet exciting new people and build new friendships here in LA.

Good-bye July! You've been a fun one.

On Fear, Really Graduating, and July!

2009-07-01T21:03:00.000-07:00

It's all the same really.
I'm ushering in July with over $15,000 of debt, The Decemberists (guess which song...), and Claire Danes as a falling star.
Thursday, I finished college.
Tomorrow, another Thursday, I get to drive onto Warner Bros. lot as an intern for Dan Jinks and Bruce Cohen. My favorite producers. If one is allowed to have favorite producers.
Yesterday, I screwed up at least 8 times. Or rather, faced the consequences of 8 screw ups. Today I fixed about 5 of them. I know I'm supposed to spell out each of those numbers according to the rules of conventional grammar, but I think 82 should make it better. Yes. Eighty-two makes it better.
I suppose now it is time to either face destiny or live the dream, depending on how one feels about free will. I personally believe in a mix of everything. My work, God's plan, and the intervening universe at large. I suppose, though, God's plan for everything and always is the lovely trump card, and I am reassured.
Yes, I got "religious."

But seriously. I want to work. This week of downtime (and getting raped by banks, catching eye cooties, and crying profusely in between watery eyes) has left me with too much time to think.
I need my koala. He is still tap-dancing. He needs to get on kicking some kangaroo (adult) rear-end.
And Ashley needs to realize Sam is the man for her. Kevin just isn't worth her time.

So I went to see Transformers 2 on the 23. It started on the 24th with MICHAEL FUCKING BAY introducing the film. We were in the same room. It was a big room and we were at opposite ends, but there it is. My wonderful date had to be slightly embarrassed at my giddiness. And at my enthusiasm for a movie that was far less than perfect and possibly straight-up mediocre. But damn it, "Autobots, let's roll" is as invigorating as the Superman theme regardless of the film context.

I'm really sorry about the lack of pictures. Soon, soon.
Please keep reading, the four of you (or so) who do.

Soon I must talk about the beaches in my life. But, to quote Legolas "Fellowship of the Ring", "for me the grief is still to near."

Farewell to the security of the classroom.
Hello July!
I love you.

On Jeffrey Tambor and his Acting Class

2009-06-16T16:13:00.000-07:00

Last Monday, June 8th, I attended Jeffrey Tambor's acting workshop as an auditing student. He told us to prepare a song and called upon me to sing in front of about 50 people, including 13 of my fellow students.
The result was an experience that has affected me more than anything in recent (or even long-term) memory. The thing is, there are very few things in life that I absolutely hate. Being embarrassed is number 2 or 3 on the list. Feet and being late are numbers one and two, respectively. Having never really acted, and certainly never having sang in front of a crowd, I was nervous beyond all reason. To get the performance that he wanted out of me, Mr. Tambor had me play duck duck goose with the audience while I sang, asked me deeply personal questions, and yes, got the song that he wanted. I think it was fun and liberating for about ten minutes. Then class continued. The professional actors and actresses in the class performed various scenes on stage. They are, for the most part, incredibly talented. However, in order to get the performance, Mr. Tambor gives them the same treatment he gave me, only in a more extreme way. While they go into the class knowing what to expect, I still can't understand the ethics of this sort of performance. Some call it therapeutic, but I think airing one's dirty laundry in public has to do more harm than good. He constantly barges into people's family histories and situations, something, I feel, is more deeply personal than any other sort of relationship in the world. Even negative or "barely there" relationships among family members have such deep-seeded roots in a person's existence that using them for something as whorish as an acting gig seems so wrong. Yes, we should put ourselves into our work, but we should also remember that we, as artists, are only artists because of our humanity, and that part of that humanity must always be preserved and treated as precious.
He also speaks so highly of artists, putting them on unwarranted pedestals. At the end of the day, one's choice to be an artist is no difference from one who chooses to be an engineer or a janitor or a police officer. Everything in this world has merit, and every job is designed to benefit other people in this world. Nothing is entirely selfish, just as nothing is entirely self-less. We are all connected, and to say artists are more in tune with the world than others seems a travesty. We merely see the world from a different perspective and we do our parts, our PARTS, not our separate existences, for our own good and the good of the all.
Needless to say, this class, this June 8th, will remain in my memory forever. Mr. Tambor succeeded even in his failure to appreciate the scope of humanity. Way to do your job, Sir!

On Stress

2009-06-03T23:03:00.001-07:00

I don't get home before 10 most nights. Tonight I got home at 6:30 and felt blessed.
I don't have any pictures today because they require a lot of thinking and organizing to place on the blog.
Next week, sometime, I hope, I will write on beaches.
I miss this and need a day off.

AHHH!

On Visiting Chicago

2009-05-18T01:22:00.000-07:00

Today I walked in my college graduation. It's strange how soon that came. Two years, two crazy interesting years. I can honestly say I've learned a lot, and a lot of it came from the classroom. Two years ago, I arrived at film school like a little Harry Potter, totally ignorant of the magic that is film. And now I live in LA, and I'm working in the industry.
Today I also saw my very best friends, Christine and Jordan, for the first time in four months. It had actually been five since I saw Christine, and I still cannot believe how much I missed them. I love those two. And I love my family. And my "older brother" Dave, and my dear friend Paul, on whose couch I am writing this. I have some amazing people in my life, and it's good to know that as long as I am with them, I feel home.
It also felt strange to miss LA. I don't want to be there right now, this instant, but I feel it pulling at me. It is home, and my life is there. Plus, I missed an earthquake today, and I'm bummed.
Anyway, it's 3:40, not 1:40, so I should probably sleep.

Before I Try and Turn Out Act 2

2009-05-13T09:53:00.000-07:00

Last night, I was discussing the romantic comedy I am writing, a title-less bastard child, with two friends--one via g-chat and one via AIM. They say scripts are our children--our darlings, if you will. And they also say it takes a village to raise a child. I do believe this might be true. I threw half-baked silly ideas at them, and threw our joking and discussion, came up with an enhanced second act. It was great. What started as me wanting to Bay it up turned a simple romantic comedy into an action caper with feminist undertones. Yes! There's way too much going on, and it's still very much a romantic comedy, but I think it's better that I get too much out on this draft, since it's the first, and then cut it from there.
I love that writing is not a solitary experience. To truly turn out a good script, one absolutely needs to be able to throw ideas around, to release them into the world for a time before pinning them to a page.
Now, I must get back to the work. Second act is always a little daunting, but now I know exactly where I'm going and what my plot points are that I need to hit.

And my final note: Three days until I return to Illinois for a visit! I cannot wait to have, on a single roll of film, pictures that include foothills, the ocean, The River, skyscrapers, and the tops of clouds (if I dare to actually look out the window of the plane). And I'll be participating in a college graduation ceremony. That seems so strange. Again, more on that later.

On Santa Monica

2009-05-11T23:27:00.000-07:00

Today, miraculously, traffic was at a minimum. Thank goodness since I worked both Beacon and Barney's today. I will be so glad for the day when I can rid my world of some of the alliteration and say Jinks/Cohen and Barney's. It's so much less cutesy.
More on cute later. Right now, I would like to discuss that which has become my new redline--though it's not really close at all--Santa Monica Boulevard. This is where my adventure down SMB begins every day. I'm rather fond of the Star Trek banner. Though, I suppose it will be going away soon. It's great to feel like I am racing a star ship piloted by James Tiberius Kirk every morning. It's a real tragedy that I beat it in LA traffic, though. The thing about Santa Monica is that east of highland, it's pretty gross. I also take it to get to Sean and Jeremy's when I'm hiding from mice or my roommates or their house guests (not that I have a problem with any of these but the mice... I just like to hide). It starts out disgusting, then rolls west, first through WeHo: , the brackish hybrid between disgusting regular Hollywood and Beverly Hills. Beyond Beverly hills, which is too tree-lined and straight to be interesting, I hit Century City, the scariest place on earth. It is impossible to be lower-middle-class in this area. Me and my Vibe (in a moment, please...) try and get through as fast as possible, but folks in Prius and BMWs cannot drive. The Prius drivers I understand. We've all heard the Toyota rants, but the Beemers? Come on... you're in a German-engineered car! Anyway, it's very shiny and sterile and this is the only picture I could take without being blinded.
Eventually, I arrive in Santa Monica. Santa Monica, off the beach and the promenade, is incredibly tacky. I'll save pictures of it for when I can do it justice. The point is, Santa Monica is as diverse as LA itself, and I've only just started to appreciate this after a month of driving it across my known California universe. It certainly beats being stuck on the 10 or the 405, both of which are incredibly boring in their views and move about as quickly. I'll miss it when I'm back to driving Western and Melrose for class. I think I'll miss a lot of things being back in class.
Here's to freedom. Here's to the arteries of major cities, full of the flavor and life of the people they serve, from the Red line in Chicago to Santa Monica in LA. Hooray!

In other news, romantic comedies are fun as hell to write. It's okay to defy logic because no one actually falls in love like that ever. It's more fantasy than Lord of the Rings, and twice the cheese. LOVE IT.

On Sunshine

2009-05-07T22:44:00.000-07:00

While I am redder then a tomato right now, I must say, I love sunshine. I love the beach. Today, I finally went into the water--the Pacific Ocean--and actually enjoyed it. Even the scary, fall-into-a-hole-while-a-wave-came-at-me parts.

It occurred to me today that returning to classes in three weeks might kill me just a little. I've established a sort of routine with people who are well out of film school, with offices and lunch breaks, with commutes and schedules. Barney's is going well--I love the waitresses with whom I work, and I love the atmosphere of the restaurant, especially at night when people come to sit at the bar and watch the game. And the WGA... I LOVE IT. That library really is the greatest place ever. I work with three incredibly kind people, I get to read scripts, I get to alphabetize and organize, and I get to be in a creative, quiet, peaceful environment.

My pictures from my first disposable camera are on facebook. I feel like that was a practice run for starting something more with it on here (or perhaps a new blog... haven't decided). Here's a few and what they are in my world:

This one is something my friend and I happened upon. Just a pine cone on a rock. But it looked like the pipe is actually some sort of ray gun bent on destroying this pine cone. But why? Perhaps it's more than just a pine cone... Who knows? The second one is my favorite tree. It's on a mountain, on a part of the path that slopes, so it literally makes you feel as though your world has shifted about 90 degrees. It's on a good trail, as well, which makes it even better.

So there those are. Enjoy.

The Biggest Questions I Have to Answer This Week

2009-04-28T07:59:00.001-07:00

What's going to have a bigger opening weekend this summer: Transformers 2 or Star Trek?

Who would you choose if you were in Obsessed: Beyonce or Ali Larter?

Is it more fun to go hiking or to the beach?

Yes, this is bratty, but I love LA and my life here. It's so weird that one cannot make real decisions. I simply act or react and try to stay out of traffic. No one asks questions...
But do answer. Feedback is appreciated. :-P

The Sam Abides

2009-04-25T00:06:00.000-07:00

Three weeks until I get to see the Mississippi River.

Three weeks and one day until I get to see Chicago.

I love LA, but damn it, I get to see Christine, Jordan, Mike, Paul, and select members of the rest of the gang.

Phone interview today went well. I will find out on Monday if I got the internship closer to home after school ends.

Script due by May 26th. Freaking out because it can't involve kids.

Talked to a friend tonight and realized I haven't seen the stars since Kansas. And I haven't really seen many stars in Hollywood that aren't cemented into a street. Me, Orion, and the 'Sip have a date, I think, when I get home. Over ice cream.

Tomorrow, going away party for another friend. I'm sad about this.

Next weekend, I might be throwing my own party.

Coming soon: NEW BLOG THAT INCLUDES DISPOSABLE CAMERA PHOTOS.

Family

2009-04-22T22:05:00.000-07:00

My mom just informed me that she had a dream about a medical condition. She's been feeling under the weather and believes this might be the solution. Or rather, a means to the solution. I should very much like to dream questions that have answers.

Today, I spoke to my dad on the phone longer than my mom. This might be the first time that has happened in ages, and I was very glad. My dad and I don't talk as much as I'd like.

My brother has also been texting and calling me the past few days. It's funny how the more physical distance comes between us, the closer we are to becoming friends. He and I are two radically different people and probably would never have gotten to know each other were it not for the fact that we were born 19 months apart and spent our entire lives together.

Family, I suppose, is something that we have to define as we grow up; all the while, it defines us, to some extent. Regardless of the situation, for better or worse, our family (or lack thereof) influences us in so many ways--some subtle and some not.
My friend Dave, who calls me sister, often remarks that family has nothing to do with genetic relations.
No relationship, though, is by choice. We can only relate to those in our lines of communication. Circumstance brings us together, as much as we probably hate to admit it. I mentioned this in a previous post, but this concept continues to blow my mind.
Family adds a whole different layer, something I find fascinating. While I love my immediate family, about half of my extended, my parents' immediate families, are strangers. People I would not know at all outside of circumstance. Yet, for better or worse, they are in my life. Perhaps that is reassuring. Perhaps it is terrifying, but it is my life, and, to some extent, beyond my control or understanding.
I love that feeling, knowing that I am not entirely responsible for the conditions of my life. Call it irresponsible, but I think the stress of thinking otherwise is just too much.

And with that, I return to Samland with my koala and my gymnasts.

The Annoying Bit about Hostessing and Other Bits of My Weekend

2009-04-19T19:41:00.000-07:00

Shitheads that enter my restaurant and seat themselves make me crazy. It's also infuriating when people wander around the restaurant looking for a table, like I'd lie to them. And when people see there's a list and take a table that is not bussed or finished, do they really think they can keep sitting there?
I'm over it.

I sorta like the amount of sun burn I have, despite the fact that some of it is on my ass, in a way. The sunburn on my face is the sort that doesn't hurt and won't peel and makes me look like I had a lot of fun. More of a glow than anything. If that makes sense. I want to play football on the beach.

Today, I am doing laundry and sitting at my house writing. I like slow nights like this, but it leaves a lot of time to think. I want to watch a movie with anyone or a cat. But I'm very tired of movies, sometimes. Although I love film, I feel like I need a break from it lately. But everything feels filmic. I also hate that word, and I apologize for using it. Back to what I was saying, though. I can't pick up a book without thinking how to adapt it. I can't listen to music without thinking of the story in the song or of how it could work in a movie. I can't sleep without a scene from a script popping in there. My friends are all film types. At least I have Barney's. Sports movies aren't my thing, but sports themselves are, so I don't try and correlate the two. I can't wait until basketball season is over, though. The NBA is so lame on TV. Basketball is too tiny, like soccer or hockey, to be experienced from a TV screen. Oh well. Everything else about work is great. And film is great, too. I just think I'd like a break. And some tacos. But my mom's tacos. Not anyone else's.

I think I am starting to develop actual friendships in LA. Not just the sort where I know people and have to call them my friends because I don't know anyone else. It's very exciting. It makes the whole place feel even more right than it already does.

Chihuahuas shouldn't exist. Especially the one next door on the side where my window is. If it ever finds its way under my tire, I won't put on my brakes and I won't apologize. That is how it has to be.

Writer's Guild this Friday. My week is going to rock so hard.

Here's to an amazing weekend and a good week ahead!

Sunburn

2009-04-19T00:21:00.001-07:00

The top part of my legs below my butt is slightly sunburned. It was worth it though. Laid on the beach all day. Didn't move except to roll over. This is the way every Saturday should be.
And I still managed to be productive!

The Death of a Friend

2009-04-17T22:59:00.001-07:00

My hair dryer died today. We have been together since the summer of my sophomore year in high school. I'm actually pretty sad about it. What do I do with this dead dryer? Do I throw it away? It just doesn't feel right. Buying a new one will also feel strange.

In other news, in bigger news, the trailer for the web series I produced was in a festival--Tubefilter, a new media group, showcased it tonight at the Avalon Club. After convincing the bouncer to let me in despite the 21+ age limit, it was a great night. The trailer actually got the crowd to listen. Amazing. Soon, I'll post a link so everyone can see it. It warrants being seen.

Today, hike. Tomorrow, beach. Hooray warm weather... finally!

I'm watching Meet Joe Black and eating a burger right now. I love Friday nights.

Love Letter to the Mississippi River

2009-04-14T22:52:00.000-07:00

Seeing as it is the only relationship in which I am ever 100% comfortable, I sat down and wrote my first love letter last night to the Mississippi River.
Since It doesn't have an address, I thought I'd just post the letter here and hope it gets to the right place.

To My River:

Can you hear across the mountains when I yell at the traffic? Does my voice carry the 2000 miles through my car windows to shake your waters under the dam? It always happens over the cement creek they call a river—we stop and I stare at the vast dry walls for riverbanks. My heart is thirsty, and even though I’m happy, I don’t yell at the Toyotas, I yell for the right sort of water. The water muddied with the stories of America, the stories of my life before I became Samantha. You knew me as Sam. Sam without question. You never asked what I preferred. You just said so and it was. Nothing here, not even the mountains, can have that sort of assertiveness.

To be clear, I do not miss anything beyond your banks. Nothing that cannot come to me, anyway. The streets were no better, and the people certainly lacked the superficial West Coast Warmth. Superficial used to be a bad word. Now it is a way of life. Never dig too deep because there’s nothing but sand anyway. I think people’s personalities reflect their rivers. I have a certain depth, a certain muddiness, a certain great big connective purpose because I am rooted along your banks. While I have never been happier, I wish most days I could sit and tell my stories along your shore. Couldn’t you reroute my way? I know you’d like it here. I know they’d like you. Everyone likes everything in Los Angeles. But I think you inspire a deeper fondness; one worthy of Kerouac’s ravings, of Twain’s prose, of my own pathetic ramblings.

Even though Los Angeles is my home now, I will forever be a tree planted by a river’s banks, conscious and grateful for strong, healthy roots. You, and you alone, give me reason to return. Perhaps it is crazy to say this to a constantly changing body of water, but I love you. And then again, perhaps it is my favorite relationship because it can never change. We are always going to be Sam along the River; we are always going to hold each other’s stories. So I love you a hundred times over and miss you a hundred times more. Keep flowing, but be kind this year—keep the floods at bay. No one likes them but me, and I’ve already checked it off my list of disasters. Your path is sure. Mine is coming along nicely. Perhaps they will cross, and I will become another tributary in your long and perfect history.

Love,

Sam

Easter Eggs, Circumstance, and High-Octane Adventure

2009-04-12T17:13:00.000-07:00

Happy Easter. I'm glad for Jesus.

The other night, I had the most wonderful conversation with Jordan. He was talking about his favorite scene from Watchmen (which I still need to see) and he spoke of how amazing it is that people meet. Micromiracles, he said. And it's true. As if the odds of life aren't astronomical enough, the fact that people can meet and mesh is even more amazing. Take Jordan and I, for instance. We grew up in two different states, hundreds of miles apart, never knowing we were joined by tributaries of rivers (the rivers have nothing to do with anything, but for me they mean everything, but I've established this a million times). We went to the same school in Chicago and shared a major. We could have met then. We had the same class. We did meet, but we weren't friends. Then, by random assignment of a computer, we had to work together on the "What Happened in Class Today" together. We started talking. There was a memo pad involved because Jordan is a quiet person. Notsomuch anymore, but certainly when we met. Then we became friends. Jordan met Paul by pure coincidence on a film set. Paul and I met on Jordan's film. Paul and I are friends. Another prime example is Jim. Jim and I, again, by chance, were neighbors. We introduced ourselves. Two different majors. Different backgrounds. Not friends yet. I needed a composer. He makes wonderful scores. Now I consider him a close friend. Amazing. We don't really choose our friends. We can't even really look for a particular person to be our friend. It is all circumstance. Personally, I believe it is fate. Beyond just knowing and loving people, though, these people that are in our lives shape us in ways we don't even realize. Remove one, just one person, and a life becomes a different story entirely. Without Jordan or Jim (or the gazillion other people with whom I have collided), I would not be in the same circumstance I am today. Sure, I might have made it to LA. I might have been happy. But honestly, the people in my life make me so happy that it's unreal. Just talking to my new roommate, Moani (another happy accident), I told her that the past three months have been the happiest of my life. And it's so true. I was thinking about how long I've gone without a therapist, how long I've gone without a severe panic attack, and I realized it's been ages. My little disease is in remission, perhaps it's gone forever. Either way, my life, at the moment, at this very beautiful moment on Easter Sunday, is amazing. And it is not my doing. It is not the place. It is the people I know. It is the people who have supported me from afar, family and friends; it is the two wonderful people I live with; and it is the new friends I have made that make me smile. To me, today, highlighted by the miracle that is the resurrection, these beautiful people are proof that there is a God of Love watching out for all of us, even through the darkness, because, inevitably, we find light in life.

On a lighter note, I was finally free to go out last night with friends. Sunny and Haley, from my drama writing class, Chris from producing, and Jeremy from the random phone number from Nick (who is also a Columbia alum but it is wayyy more fun to say I just called his number... sorry about this...) went to see Fast and Furious. I love bad movies with film kids. We were those assholes laughing and talking through the whole movie. Get over it. It was awesomely bad. Thank you Vin Diesel for being a mostly bad actor.

Go out and celebrate. Dye some eggs. I did. First year I haven't had to share the dye or the eggs. Hell yes. (Can I say hell yes on Easter?)

The Most Magical Place in Hollywood... Not Joking

2009-04-11T08:41:00.000-07:00

The Writer's Guild library might be the greatest place I've ever been that is not the Mississippi River. Sorting through their donations yesterday, I got to log an early draft of The Godfather script, a continuity draft of a musical from the 1940s, a script on Proust that was over 190 pages long, and a draft of Harriet the Spy--hooray childhood! It's quiet, it's relaxing, and it's full of talent and history. Walking through those glass doors into the library makes me want to write. And I have been. I can't wait until I'm able to look up one of my own scripts.

My dad arrives tomorrow! I'm so excited.

I hope everyone had a great Passover or is having a good Easter weekend. Either way, enjoy your flat bread and wine, yeah?

My Weird Relationship with Certain Media

2009-04-06T22:50:00.000-07:00

Frasier
People have called Frasier the smartest show on television. Because it is probably one of my favorite sitcoms, I beg to differ. The thing about Frasier is that all the jokes are pretty predictable. But the setup always leads to a comfortable payoff, and it makes me laugh regardless. On any other show, I only get about 70% of the jokes. With Frasier, I get 95%. It's awesome. It makes me feel like I can keep up with society.

That 70's Show
I don't get most the jokes on this sitcom, just like most others. Mostly, I just laugh when the characters make funny faces because I assume a joke was said. But it was the last show I watched with Ariel. When she got really sick and her little legs stopped working, Caleb, my mom, Michaela, and I sat around the floor with her and positioned her so that she could see the TV. At that point, she couldn't focus and was more interested in reaching toward the sound of our voices, but for some strange reason, we sat round the TV, crying and laughing and trying to get the cat to somehow feel better. I remember the episode--the one when Jackie tries to get a job. Honestly, it doesn't matter, though. What matters is that somehow, it made losing our feline family member a little easier.

The Lord of the Rings
I am sure that I've mentioned this a few times--it infiltrates every aspect of my life. Talking to my friend Dave tonight, I realized how bad it was when he was pointing out minor technical glitches in the movies and I found excuses that were altogether too legitimate. Peter Jackson would probably not have even thought to make these arguments. But seriously, sometimes, if I have had a terrible day, I just go into Middle Earth. From Moria to Gondor, I can pull a Rugrats and turn everything into that happier place (post-Sauron, of course).

Lovers in Japan by Coldplay
Something about this song makes me smile no matter what. The beginning few seconds with the quick melody line, whether in the acoustic or the original takes me someplace amazing. If I ever danced with another person, I certainly hope it is to that song. Today, on my way home, I listened to Lovers in Japan/Reign of Love three times. Then again, it was an hour-long drive...

Which brings me to MY INTERNSHIP!
I started today at Beacon. Basically, I sit behind the front desk and write coverage. It's a great job, and I like the office where I work. Writing coverage is great. Reading scripts is great. I'm excited for Friday because I start my volunteer tenure at the Writer's Guild Library.

That's it for now, I suppose. Life should settle down nicely this week with the calm before the storm of work I hope to have at Barney's. And only six days until I see my Dad!

Oh Those Silver Linings...

2009-04-04T17:35:00.000-07:00

The past few days have been happy, exciting, overwhelming, and completely insane. I have had no time to process, and I am inundated with a lot of incoming outside wackiness.
But I have learned one thing from this wackiness:
I have settled into a very nice little life out here. Very nice indeed. Had it not been disrupted by this outside entity, I would not have realized this entirely. But as much as I miss home and whatnot, my life out here works very well. Now that I have a job, it should work even better. The two internships I've obtained are both for really solid companies, and I will learn a lot. I will start volunteering at the Writer's Guild Library, so I will be meeting people and learning names. Not only that, but I will be exposed to their collection of award-winning scripts and screenplays. My TV pilot showed potential, and my time should be freeing up to get writing done.

In other news:
Bouncers are the greatest people ever.
If it is -70 degrees outside, your teeth can freeze and fall out of your mouth. Chris told me about that when he told me about going to the coldest, northernmost town in the world. Apparently, no one smiles in this town. I certainly wouldn't if it got that cold.
Sun dried Tomatoes + Alfredo Sauce = delicious.
Georgie is a kick-ass roommate.

That's all for now. My brain might be fried.

Overwhelming Smiles

2009-04-02T21:08:00.000-07:00

Today, I pitched for the first time in LA. All things considered, it was most successful. I'm hoping to have them read the pilot in about six weeks.
Yesterday, I got a job hostessing at Barney's Beanery in Burbank. Yay income!
Tomorrow, I have another pitch, but I am much more nervous about this one. Gary feels under-developed, and I am not sure how to pitch the parallel story lines.
My friend Cody arrived from Chicago. Finally, I have a friend from Chicago out here.
Honestly, though, nothing seems real still. Los Angeles is still so bizarre, and this feeling of "I have to go home to Rock Island this summer" will not go away. But the truth is that Los Angeles is home, and I don't have to leave. I can keep working and doing the damned thing as long as I want. My life is as surreal as the Gary story, and it probably won't stop for a long time.
Samland has become my reality, I think. It makes more sense than the Hollywood game. Somehow, though, I don't think this will be a problem. Imagination never hurt anyone in Los Angeles.
That might be a lie...

Procrastination: Bay, Zooey Deschanel, and Kids' Entertainment

2009-03-31T17:37:00.001-07:00

I should be practicing for my pitch, writing e-mails, improving my treatments, turning those treatments into scripts, or editing Dave's stuff.
Instead, I'm watching Family Guy and updating this POS. But I did edit one script, fix a little of one treatment, obtain one internship and one interview, and receive a couple of awesome e-mails/messages today (and this week), so I feel like I've earned a breather. It's not like I have a boss yet.
Today, Zack Snyder, Michael Bay, and Kathryn Bigelow were in the Hollywood Reporter for their ShoWest film awards. I love it. Even their publicity photos are more epic than anyone else's. Bay, in particular, stands head and shoulders above the rest--literally, actually. As much as I want to write for young audiences, I would love to do something completely ridiculous and action-packed as Transformers or Watchmen. More than anything in the film world, it irks me when people insult his movies. He obviously has something right. $2.5 billion in worldwide gross for just seven films--Bay kicks ass. While he may not be as high brow as the Coen Brothers, he never screws with his audience (a la Burn After Reading). He just gives everyone what they want: the chance to experience explosions and fights and alien robots without any of the danger. I'll gladly suspend my disbelief that a tourist-town gets destroyed and no one notices the giant machines who did it for Mr. Bay. I think most of us would. And do. So for those puzzled by my love of Bay, there it is. He's awesome, he blows things up, and his audience (his "four quadrant" audience) loves it.

Colin gave me Zooey Deschanel's album "She & Him." Amazing, cute, and all-around lovely. Probably one of my new favorites. Zooey D. (I'm not about to try and spell her name again) kicks about as much ass as Michael Bay. Can she do no wrong?

My teen-drama show that I have in development is growing into something I really love. Niche-market writing might be my thing. I like and understand children's stories--kids' books are some of my favorites--better than anything else, and I'd be happy making a name for myself with them. If I make movies for no one over the age of 20, I would most definitely be okay with that. Perhaps I could create a show as good as iCarly. If you haven't seen it, turn on Nickelodeon and get on that. Totally great.

Alas, the work calls. More later, probably. Until then, watch Transformers or Nickelodeon.

From Puppies to Bitches and Other Stories of Growing Up

2009-03-30T16:59:00.000-07:00

Thank goodness it is the last week of class. Most of my classmates have become utterly unbearable. The passive aggressive, snide remarks are disgusting. Get back to high school if that is how you wish to behave.
It pleases me to know end to know that I have an internship, an interview, and a "consider" on my show bible. My contacts are viable, despite my not being allowed into this "in crowd" they have formed. And I am going to see Terry Gilliam by myself tomorrow. I don't really care to join the crowd. Making that decision today was refreshing.

On the home front, I am tired of passive aggression as well. I have had almost no part in the decision for the new roommate. Never once did I receive an e-mail request from a potential craigslist inquiry, never once did I have a part scheduling showings. It only worked out that I was home every time because of a number of cancellations. This is ridiculous. I live here as well.

That's the thing. I live here. I attend class at Raleigh. I exist. I have value and feelings--as much as anyone else. Possibly more than some. After all, I have never so rudely disrespected another person's socioeconomic background, worked to exclude anyone, or disregarded advice from those more experienced like some of the people in my life at the moment.

But I suppose anyone you have to deal with creates a new lesson, a new experience. These puppies and bitches and tricky human beings are not the last I will meet. And when I come across others in the future, my skin will be thicker and my heart will be more compassionate and my world will be a little lighter in the dark.

Breakfast on the Front Porch--Finally, a Happy Rant

2009-03-28T10:03:00.000-07:00

Learning to live with a mohawk hasn't been as difficult as I thought. In fact, it's growing on me. Pun intended.

Yesterday, I found out that I have a development internship with Beacon Pictures doing coverage. I love writing coverage, and Beacon has an amazing filmography, so I'm really excited. Once again, though, the recurring theme in my life seems to be "reach a goal; thank the person that pushed you toward it." This time it's my instructor, Van. So this week's thank you goes to you, sir. My prediction next week is that it will go to my "big brother" Dave. I have an interview that he helped me to set up. I don't think I will ever be able to express enough gratitude to the people in my life. Funny thing, though, is that I've spent most of my life feeling in debt to the world. However, the more I actually fall into help-debt with those I respect in my life, the less I feel indebted and more the more I just feel love. Someday, through these people's help, I will be able to help them in return. And I cannot wait for that day. It will be, to quote Bill and Ted, MOST TRIUMPHANT.

Also yesterday, I learned that not everyone in my producing class is a disrespectful soulless lump. There are two, probably three, and maybe four good folks in the class. Too bad I find this out a week before it's over. Regardless, one of them took my motorcycle shopping (for him, not for me--come on now), and we had a fun time. I feel like I've also connected well with the writers, so perhaps this semester was not a total networking flop.

To My River: Keep a low profile; have my beach ready. Soon I will get to see the sunrise and sunset on either side of the bend!

To the Redline: I miss you, you mechanical aorta to the angry city. Even if you do smell funny. Say hi to Addison for me.

***

I am updating at 10:45 p.m. Not so much updating, but adding.
Today, I spent about half my day in Santa Monica with a group of writers. I actually watched the sun set over the ocean and behind a mountain.
Then I came home to an empty house with a broken door jamb. Earlier, I had locked myself out and the neighbor and I did a number before I decided to climb through a window. Point is, I came home and watched Punk Drunk Love. Paul Thomas Anderson is amazing. The thing is, though, I have to watch his films alone, but I cannot watch his films alone. This one in particular. Something about the way I fall into the film... It happens with There Will Be Blood as well. Amazing. Beautiful.
My favorite Lays commerical just came on, with the song called Thinking, Drinking, Sinking Feeling. Beautiful. Who knew a potato chip could do that? Hah!
I'm going to go find that song

Good night!

From Fraggle Rock to Spain

2009-03-25T19:34:00.001-07:00

I look like one of Henson's Fraggles. I went in to get a hair cut last night, hoping for a fauxhawk like the one I had last spring. I came out with a real mohawk. Not sure how I feel about it yet.

This morning, I get to class and get a phone call from my mom saying that my debit card had some suspicious transactions on it. When I called the company, I learned that someone charged $430 to my card from a company in Spain. Got that taken care of. Weird.

During class, I made a remark about how I learned my lesson--until I have money, I'm going to back to Aveda Institutes. I dig student salons, especially because I know how valuable it is to people going through those programs. But honestly, that's beside the point. One of my lovely classmates then remarks that she doesn't go to the student salons as though she is too good--she doesn't need to. Her tone of voice made me want to vomit. I don't know as there is anything that offends me more than snot-nosed rich kids flaunting their ignorance and lack of real-world experience. Sure, I don't have a ton of money, but damn it, I work hard, I look decent (minus the fraggle-do) and I have just as much chance out here as they do.
To be quite frank (and aren't I always?), I am tired of being made to feel less for being a lower middle class kid daring to challenge the class system that we pretend does not exist in our culture. Every day of college was hard-earned. Yes, I had help from my parents, but damn it, they've worked hard too. My father has put his life on the line to give me this education. My mother tried to stay at home for me and my siblings and now works a part-time job in a sad, low-income grade school. I have worked since I was 16 years old, and I have busted my ass to make sure my grades could get me scholarships and that my performance in college could get me a job since nothing else will. I had a dream, and I did not keep my place. Honestly, that is part of my problem with my producing class. Most of that class--probably a good 80%, have no idea what it is like like to be made to feel so low. Most don't know what it's like to go without, to have to substitute real-world travels for books, to have to balance work and school and a perfect list of outside activities because advancing your place in society depends upon it; to have to make a $20 outfit look like $200 in order to land a job or a place among one's peers. It requires a certain amount of imagination, to be sure, and the lack of compassion and imagination in this class is astounding. As is the lack of tact, apparently.
Sure, I may be nothing like the studio execs I'm working for someday. I may not be what LA wants me to be, but damn it, I'm something just as good, if not better. As it is, the middle class is disappearing. And some of us are moving up. I plan to be one of them.

Wow... a complaint about class turned into a socio-political half-assed rant.
I would apologize, but I don't really feel that bad about it. In fact, I'm glad I said it.

In other news, I have at least one interview for an internship next week. It should be fun. I'm getting more confident in my cold-calling; hopefully that will lead somewhere as well.

The Week in Review

2009-03-23T00:14:00.001-07:00

This weekend, we finished filming a web series, "Blue Movies" (www.watchbluemovies.com--the site is still under construction, so don't go yet). Quite the success for my first LA project. The cast and crew were great, and Scott, the writer/director, is quite talented. It has proven a pleasant relief from class. The contrast of people is remarkable.
My show bible is coming along quite nicely. I feel like I've got five characters who are both realistic and positive. The premise of the show is simple, and I would love to see this go into production for an 11-15-year-old audience. More and more, I feel I'm finding my niche writing for younger crowds. Perhaps because my own junior high and early high school years were so bizarre and mostly lonely. Excuse that slightly moody remark--I'm not angry. In fact, I think most people would say the same thing about their own lives. It's just true, and I think it was all for the best. I am the Samantha of today because of all those yesterdays.
This week, I learned that I will get to spend Easter with a family member. I might have mentioned this already, but I'm so excited that it's hard to contain. Okay, not too hard--it's contained very well in this little space, but in reality, and definitely internally, I am reacting, to quote Danny Boyle, "in the spirit of Tigger."
Right now, though, I desperately need sleep.

To my cast and crew reading this: bang-up job. I loved this weekend, and I love this project, and it was evident that all of you did as well!

The Puppies Aren't Aging...

2009-03-19T16:04:00.000-07:00

The current litter of puppies that I belong to in the pet store known as Raleigh Studios refuses to grow. Although I have come to better understand and appreciate nearly every person in my current program, I am still shocked by the amount of bizarre behavior. For instance, yesterday, the room turned into a free-for-all when Jon came in to speak to us about the Warner Bros. 100 Points of Development. This speech really helps to understand what sort of projects can go into development and which might be considered potentially successful. However, sitting right next to Jon, I could often barely hear him over the inane chatter in the background. These chatty kathies the give rapt attention to any agent that walks into the room.
Right now, I am about to type words that I will probably have to eat in a few months: I never EVER want to work in an agency. I will do my very best to avoid it. An agency is no place for me; it would be this puppy environment constantly, and if there's one thing I cannot stand in this life, it is puppies. Even my own dogs at home, Jack and Lola, were barely tolerable before their 8 month birthdays. In fact, Lola has not reached her 8 month yet, and I cannot stand the cute little bundle of evil. But metaphorical puppies are even worse. Scrambling over one another hoping to make an impression on the corporate soulless devils that control the business. I can't. I won't.
If in six months I am at an agency, someone please smack me in the face.

Last night, I had a mini-breakdown trying to write a treatment. I called my mom. I have an idea that I know should work somehow. Mom made it work by combining it with a few other good ideas floating around in my existence. Some things will never change. I hope frantic phone calls to Mom who fixes everything is one of them.

In news outside of film...

Damn it. Hollywood has swallowed me whole.

When you get the chance, Mike has a new vlog post at mikeandcheese.com. Check it out. He raps about ninjas. Connor Price guest stars. Guest raps, rather.

Enjoy.

And we're back

2009-03-17T23:58:00.001-07:00

After spending a weekend in a porn studio, going to Century City, smoking again (I KNOW IT'S BAD... but you didn't have my week), video chatting and talking for two hours with my mom, and meeting probably 50 new people, I finally have time to sit and relax. And when I say relax I mean that I have no coverage for class, my treatment is in working condition, my HR article is read, and the screening tonight is over so I can breathe.
Still, I am not sure what I want to do in film or in The Industry (I feel like ominous music should play here). I met a man named Jeff who had a great time with production design and art department on my shoot. He made it fun. I have been toying with the idea of line producing, since that was my primary function on this web series (I will post more as it nears completion). However, I don't know if any sort of producing is for me. Socializing, even if it is something I am adept with, is exhausting. I do not want to spend my whole life uncomfortable. Not when I could work with a crew that I love on a regular basis and live in my head when I'm not on set and write. That is my goal. And I want to make a TV show like iCarly, I think. Or like The Muppet show. Something that is an escape.
Yesterday was a day of really stimulating conversation. As mentioned before, my mother and I talked for nearly two and a half hours. I love my family, and I miss them so much. I don't care where I see them, because I really love LA and I really don't like Rock Island, but I want and need to see them soon. I had an idea for a romantic comedy, and as I hashed that out, I started toying with the TV show I have to write as well. It is a terrible idea and Nick told me so. Nick told me a lot of things--he's like a bag of Lays. You cannot get just one thought out of Nick. You get the whole story of life, the universe, and everything, only from an angry German-American sort of person and not the jovial Brit Douglas Adams. As always, it was fun, though.
Then I talked to Cody--always a good time. I have a collection of older brothers whom I love very much. On a funny note, when I posted earlier this week on facebook asking if I should go to San Francisco or San Diego, my brother figures and my actual brother all picked the shorter, safer drive. Everyone else picked San Francisco. Good to know I've got a group who has my back somewhere in this world.
So I learned a lot from three people who are in Illinois right now. I feel like, at some point in my existence, there needs to be a tangible, reachable place where I can have The River, public transit, and everyone I love in one place. It's never going to happen, but this place is wonderful and it's the capital of Samland. I call it Home. It's sort of like the end of Big Fish when Edward goes to his river at the end. But less sad and more full of life.
This probably doesn't make any sense. I am going to go to sleep now. Hopefully, I remember to post more than once every two weeks. Here's to another adventure!

2009-03-03T20:45:00.000-08:00

Los Angeles is getting to me. I noticed it when I walked into my new class and had stuff to say. I wasn't shy and awkward. And I didn't laugh too much.
The thing with a new class is that I notice how I've changed since the first one. The whole Raleigh Studios thing is still new to them, and people say things like "What have they done besides The Closer?" And I ask myself, "What sort of question is that? The Closer is kind of a big deal. And if that's not, then what is?"
My opinions are quieter, unless I'm with friends or talking on the phone with folks from Chicago. Quieter, though, does not mean that I'm at the ideal stage of "like-land" in which anything, it seems, is worthwhile.
It's also weird to see the "puppy" effect again. Our first week of drama writing, any time an instructor or speaker asked a question, we practically bit one-another's heads off to answer--like puppies biting each other's ears to be the one to go to a new home. It all starts again--people competing rather than helping. It's more about notice and knowledge. Thing is, everyone expects you to fight your way to the top. It's like a quest, I suppose.
Most days, I feel like I'm learning a lot. I still have my moments where I just get frustrated and lonely, but, for the most part, I feel like I can see some measurable difference in my ability to handle H-town.
I guess that's it for tonight. This was a weird day. And a weird post. I need a hike.

Nouning: SiLA Drama Writing

2009-03-01T11:11:00.000-08:00

This one, too, will receive positive and negative feedback because there is just too much to be said both ways.
All I know is that I'm glad it's over.

Positive (SiLA Drama) People:
1. Rachel: Awesome (outspoken) Friend
2. Eric: Awesome (Morgan Freeman-loving) Friend
3. Jack: Awesome (non-Charles) Instructor
4. Astride: Awesome (full-bellied) laughter
5. Rebecca: Awesome (Jim) facial expressions
6. Diablo Cody: Awesome (crazy) WGA Speaker
7. Raleigh Studios Parking Facility Guys: Awesome (Funny) Start to my morning

Positive (SiLA Drama) Places:
1. WGA West Building: Awesome (Free!) Lecture Facility
2. AstroBurger: Awesome (Post-class) Hangout
3. Raleigh Studios: Awesome (Classroom) Facility

Positive (SiLA Drama) Things:
1. Without a Trace Spec: Awesome (not-so-awesome) first attempt at a first draft of a TV spec
2. Feedback: Awesome (20-scripts worth) notes on the spec
3. Connections: Awesome (friends and lecturers) expansion of my people-base out here

Negative (SiLA Drama) People:
1. C.M.: Ookie (Creepy and arrogant) classmate
2. C.H.: Ookie (Disrespectful and tardy) instructor
3. T.S.: Ookie (obnoxious lump) classmate
4. L.D.: Ookie (worthless) showrunner giving me "feedback"

Negative (SiLA Drama) Places:
1. Hollywood: Ookie (dirty) town
2. Raleigh's Bathrooms: Ookie (small and cramped) potties
3. Palms Thai: Ookie (bad pad thai with tofu) class dinner

Negative (SiLA Drama) Things:
1. 3-hour days: Ookie (short and worthless) class times
2. One week off: Ookie (lack of learning) break in our $10,000 schedule
3. Communication breakdown: Ookie (typical of Columbia) bane of this program's existence
4. Copier: Ookie (Murphey's Law Loving) Breakdown Beast

So there it is. In all, I met good people, but the lack of classtime and respect from one of the instructors was very disappointing. Here's to producing next week!

Can anybody find me... good pad thai?

2009-02-28T09:49:00.001-08:00

No one in Los Angeles seems to understand how to make tofu pad thai. The tofu is disgusting. This county is 0 for 3 in terms of Pad Thai.
I miss Thai Spoon on Harrison and Wabash in Chicago. It may not have been the very best Thai ever, but it was cheap and delicious. The tofu was always perfect--dried before frying. $6.06 plus the $1.35 for a bottle of Coke in the film building was my favorite lunch. Not even AstroBurger can compare. And I never had to pay for parking.
Point is, for being a diverse, desegregated city in comparison to Chicago, Los Angeles has not provided any good ethnic food. It's frustrating. I cannot live on burgers forever.

Toyotas and Tofu: The Bane of Los Angeles.
I need to get out of the area for awhile. I've been here six consecutive weeks. I haven't stayed in a city this long in about three years. Perhaps I will drive down to San Diego some weekend.

After an Evening without Internet

2009-02-26T14:29:00.001-08:00

Last night, the internet in my home ceased to work. Today on the lot, the internet for my building was down. I was 30% cutoff from the world. Instead of panicking, like I do, I worked on my spec, uninterrupted.
Needless to say, my brain hurts. Spending that much time with a television show is not pleasant, and I have no idea how one could write for television as a career. My realization that I am not meant for the world of TV Drama is now complete. While I would not turn down a job in television, I am not going to pursue one with any sort of fervor.
Fervor is a dirty little word, isn't it?

I will be so relieved when I am back in film classes. It is a shame, though, that saying good-bye to my taste of television means saying good-bye to a few of my classmates. Rachel, in particular, will be missed. Without her around, I will probably get fat from a lack of hiking or mobility in general. She also forced wit out of me on a few occasions, and it was nice to have to be sharp and have to pick up on sarcasm.

Alas, I have distracted myself long enough now that my internet has returned. There are still pages to be written and edits to be made. This episode of Without a Trace may kill me before tomorrow. While I enjoy the show immensely, I want to be writing other things in such a bad way.
Whatever. The sooner I start, the sooner I can finish, and the sooner I can get back to my cop and my koala.

This Sunday's Nouning: A Recap of The SiLA TV Drama Writing Program. Lucky you.

Dear Toyota, I Hate Your Stinking Guts.

2009-02-23T20:34:00.000-08:00

I drive a Pontiac with a Toyota engine. Most days, I feel I drive it rather well. However, for all intents and purposes, I do not drive a Toyota vehicle. In Los Angeles, that fact alone makes me a better driver than about 10% of the Los Angeles area.
Toyota drivers are the worst. Especially if they drive a Prius. This is pretty easily explained when you think about the ideology behind buying a Toyota:
-Folks who buy Toyotas are usually middle-class people who want good gas mileage and a decent safety rating. They don't appreciate well-engineered cars that hold the road, nor do they seem to understand the need for windows in a vehicle.
Having just purchased a car, and having considered purchasing several of Toyota's models, I can safely say that these things are riddled with blind spots. All of them. Especially the Prius. They are also not designed to hold the road. Now, my car is no German wonder or anything, but I can see, and I know that when it rains or snows, I'm golden. In fact, I've driven it through a snow storm. I've also driven Toyotas in flurries to find myself a little scared.
So they are soley worried about money. They drive too fast; they drive to work. They double park to ensure a lack of contact. They're cold and angry people.
-Folks who buy the Prius are morons. It gets only 10 miles a gallon better to the gallon than most fuel-efficient non-Hybrid cars, and they all meet emissions standards. However, when you examine the cost of owning and maintaining a Prius versus the amount saved in gasoline, the numbers do not add up unless you plan on owning the car for more than seven years. These cold, money-saving bastards are screwing themselves out of their own almighty dollar. Eventually they must realize this and their conscious suddenly feels conflicted. They will not hold onto a car to the point that it becomes ugly or outdated. They're angry and dissatisfied. And a danger to others on the road.
I think everyone must agree, then, that Toyotas are responsible for more evil than good in this world. Car accidents, road rage, a lack of moral conscience and proactive environmentalism have made these cars the bane of my driving existence.
Ban the Toyota. Buy anything else. Buy Pontiac, Mitsubishi. If you can, buy German. Or buy a damned Honda.

Nouning: The Academy Awards

2009-02-22T22:22:00.000-08:00

I just returned home from Hollywood where a group from class watched The Oscars from behind the Kodak Theater. It was a cool night, albeit a little not full of surprises.
This week's will include positives and negatives.

Positive (Oscar) People:
1. Sean Penn: Awesome (Commie, Homo-loving) Best Actor
2. James Franco and Seth Rogan and Janusz Kaminski: Awesome (Comedy) Presenters.
3. Jack Black and Jennifer Aniston: Awesome (Animation) Duo.
4. John Legend: Awesome (Peter Gabriel Replacement) Performance
5. Kate Winslet: Awesome (Best Actress) Acceptance Speech.
6. Dustin Lance Black: Awesome (Kind and Compassionate) Acceptance Speech.
7. Danny Boyle's Daughters: Awesome (Keep an eye on the camera) Oscar Hair.
8. Hugh Jackman: Awesome (Talented) Host

Positive (Oscar) Places:
1. The Kodak Theater: Awesome (Incredibly Close) Re-vamped Theater.
2. India: Awesome (Slumdog) Country
3. Japan: Awesome (two winners) Country
4. Germany: Awesome (Holocaust Film) Backdrop

Positive (Oscar) Things:
1. Natalie Portman's Dress: Awesome (Pink) Deviation from the Champagne Nastiness.
2. Homage to the Movie-Musical: Awesome (Baz Lurman-coordinated) Routine.
3. Hugh Jackman's Opener: Awesome (Hilarious) Kick-off
4. Best Supporting and Lead Actor/Actress Presentation: Awesome (New) Oscar Gimmick.
5. Amy Adams' Necklace: Awesome(Non-Diamond Boringness) Jewelry.
6. The Documentary Guys: Awesome (Magical Shout-Out to Herzog) Prolonged Thank-you.
7. Danny Elfman's Score: Awesome(Overlooked) Nominee.

Negative (Oscar) People:
1. Sophia Loren: Ookie (Old) Presenter.
2. A.R. Rahman: Ookie (Boring Thank-You) Winner.
3. Daniel Day Lewis: Ookie (Absent) Presenter

Negative (Oscar) Places:
1. Japan: Ookie (Beat Israel) Winner for Best Foreign Film.
2. Highland Ave.: Ookie (Closed) Main Road.

Negative (Oscar) Things:
1. Slumdog's Score: Ookie (Elfman-Beating) Score Winner.
2. Champagne-Colored Dresses: Ookie (Boring, Not-for-White-Women) Color of the Season.
3. Predictability: Ookie (Hope-crushing) Trend.
4. Disney-Channel Stars: Ookie (I know they're people but not really) Vanessa, Zac, and Miley.

And that's that.
Also under negatives but not fitting the format: lack of Hellboy 2, Iron Man, and James Franco nominations.

Socks to be me. Ding dong the mouse is dead.

2009-02-19T20:31:00.000-08:00

This week has been ridiculous, but tonight I received the saddest ego-boost ever.
Where to begin: my car has a stalker. We've established this.
Yesterday, before a job interview, a mouse ran across my foot and my bedroom floor. He stayed in there for a bit, my roommate locked him in, and then I had to drive her to work. I came home and opened my door. Then I went and bought a trap. This morning, a mouse, perhaps the same one, was dead in the kitchen. I slept on a pull-out couch. So unpleasant.
Also yesterday, I went to a friend's house to hide from the mouse. We ended up playing pool in Beverly Hills, then going on a Garden State-meets-Pineapple Express adventure into Bel Air.
Today, toured Paramount. Bay may or may not have been there. I wish I could have seen him.
Later today, I called Christine because I received a beautiful pair of custom-made socks in the mail. That makes two packages and one letter this week. Anyway, the point is, I realized that I took so many of my friends for granted while I was in Chicago. It's a strange realization, especially because I love them so much. But I never realized until they were so far away how vital all of them were to my development as a person. While sitting along the pool today, I discussed with Rachel how certain people are in your life for a time, and perhaps they leave, but the change they make in you is forever. While I believe I will see Christine, Jordan, Andy, Mike, Cody, Paul, Nick, Connor, Sabrina, Jim, and the others again, if I don't, at least I will always have the person I am today and the person I will become, which is infinitely happier and more fulfilled, compassionate, and loved than I would be otherwise. I only hope they can say the same of me. After tonight, talking with Christine, I think there's hope of that.
And damn it, I'm a sucker for hope.

Here's to a better couple of days!

My Car is Being Stalked

2009-02-16T13:05:00.001-08:00

Apparently, my car has a stalker or two.
This morning, around 5 a.m., my roommate Georgie came knocking on my door. Having just seen The Omen two days ago, I was scared and it took me a second to respond. Apparently, two people were outside starting my my car. They set off my other roommate's car alarm. Not wanting to go outside, and not sure where these car stalkers had gotten to, Georgie called the police. When the officer came over, he said there were no scratches or signs of forced entry on my car, but that perhaps it was tree branches that set off the car alarm. But I don't think Georgie would mistake tree branches for people. Oddly enough, though, there were also no footprints. I'm totally puzzled. My car has a ghost-stalker. Maybe it's the exotic appeal of my Illinois license plate or the total soccer-momishness of the hatchback. I dig it, so it's no wonder two mysterious strangers would find it appealing as well.
But honestly. Weird as hell.

Nouning: I lied about Coraline. We're doing the Holiday Weekend Instead

2009-02-15T10:15:00.001-08:00

This weekend is riddled with Holidays: Friday the 13th, Valentine's Day, and Presidents Day. So I'm going to noun my weekend (Monday hasn't happened yet, I know)

Awesome (Holiday) People:
1. Ben and Kate: Awesome (Friday the 13th) Movie Buddies
2. Dave P.: Awesome (Valentine's Day) Brotherly Phone Call.
3. Rachel: Awesome (V-Day and maybe President's Day) Hiking Buddy.
4. Jenna Jameson: Awesome (Friday the 13th) Zombie Stripper

Awesome (Holiday) Places:
1. Griffith Park: Awesome (Valentine's Day) Hike--6 miles!
2. Underground Strip Clubs: Awesome (Friday the 13th) Terrible Setting for a Movie.
3. Mikeandcheese.com: Awesome (Valentine's Day) Site--I know I've mentioned it before, but Mike makes V-Day fun for all.

Awesome (Holiday) Other Things:
1. Pad Thai: Awesome (Valentine's Day) Early Dinner
2. The Omen: Awesome (Friday the 13th) Flick
3. Chardonnay: Awesome (Valentine's Day) Gift to Myself
4. Days off: Awesome (President's Day) Idea

There you have it. Next week's topic might come a day late because I'm doing The Oscars.

Laundry Day

2009-02-13T12:39:00.000-08:00

My washing machine (wachine mashine?) is still broken, so I went to the laundry place down the street. I rather hate the word laundromat, so laundry place can and does suffice. Point is, I bought a bunch of quarters, which is always a good time, and before realizing that my drier is still in perfect condition, began drying my clothes at the laundry place. Doing laundry in public is the absolute worst, and I've been avoiding it all week, and it is just as bad as I expected. Loads of people skirting around each other in a public place, trying to hide their personal dirties. Add to this the fact that LA is image-conscious and s different sort of culture than what I'm used to, and you've got yourself Xaney-fest 2009. I'm trying to calm down before I go remove my clothes from the two driers and continue my quest for a job.

Here we are four hours later and I'm still not calm. Bear with me for a moment while I describe panic. Sometimes confronting the beast helps.
When I get panicked, it's for one of two reasons--the big one being people. With people, which is the sort of panic I am feeling today, it usually feels as though I am a piece of silly putty and three or four grubby little kids have decided to stretch me at the same time. Inevitably, when silly putty stretches, holes form where it gets too thin--no group of little grubbers takes the time to stretch it evenly. These holes are the panic, and as I allow myself to be stretched, the hole grows. Eventually, these holes spread and cause the silly putty to tear. If I allow myself to be stretched any farther, I will have a big panic moment--sometimes referred to as a panic attack. Which is about as dumb as laundromat. So, what it comes down to is this: in the laundry place, I felt panicked. While driving, I felt panicked. When at the mall... but honestly, this one shouldn't count because anyone who isn't sketched out by the mall is probably the crazy one. But then I sit at my computer and I've got three different people making plans tonight, and I remember tomorrow is Valentine's Day, and why that matters I don't know, and I have to write 30 pages (no big thing) but then you see how it is... That hole just got huge. All in my head. And somehow, I have to roll myself back together. So that's it. It's vaguely senseless, but it's been a part of my day, and I suppose a lot of people find themselves in similar situations. And Whitman said to cast our webs, to connect our spheres, and we will feel less lonely. And I believe him.

In other news: this week's bit of nouning will be a recap of the movie Coraline. So now we all have something we can anticipate. Yeah!

Coffee or Wine? Forget it all and give me a burger.

2009-02-11T20:28:00.000-08:00

Right now, I am debating between a second glass of wine or a cup of coffee. I'm not sure if I want to go to bed early or stay up late. These are my big decisions in LA. That and what I want to do with my life. But I keep putting that one off. I'm just a kid, right? Damn it, that's twice tonight I've sounded like an X-man (person?). Where the hell are my superpowers? And predicting Steeler's interceptions doesn't count--except on that wonderful, glorious, beautiful SuperBowl. Thank you, thank you Harrison. (I'm not ready to let it go just yet... SIX...)

Yesterday, I visited AstroBurger. Since coming here, I have been trying burgers like mad because, outside of Blackie's on Printer's Row and The Wabash Tap, I was never satisfied. However, AstroBurger, recommended to me by Hilary Swank via People Magazine (or was it VH1?), was amazing. A great follow-up to a week that included In-and-Out Burger and Barney's Beanery. Barney's was good--Kobe beef, swiss cheese, medium well. But I am a sucker for fast food, and AstroBurger was quick, it was cheap, and it was delightful. (That's what she said, yeah?) And it's right down the street from Raleigh, so I can go whenever.
So, score yet another one for LA. I cannot wait to have a job and get fat from all the burgers.
Also yesterday, I climbed a rock or foothill or whatever with my same friend, Rachel. We didn't realize how soft the rocks were. They crumble. And it had just rained. Needless to say, we did not make it to the top. But getting down, it turns out, is harder. I think there is a life lesson in there--probably something about pressing on, but since we ended up climbing down successfully and making a fair mess of the seats of our pants in the process, I can't quite make the connection. Oh well. It was so worth it. I felt like one of Peter Pan's Lost Boys which is probably one of the better feelings in this world.
Score again for LA. You can't get high adventure like that in Chicago.

And in other news, Valentine's Day is right around the corner. Actually, since it's this week, I suppose we've passed a corner. This probably means a care-package from my mom. I really can't complain. But if you want to see a good rant that will make all us lonely folk feel better, check out mikeandcheese.com. This kid is hilarious.

Another Morning Quickie... Privacy Issues

2009-02-10T07:48:00.000-08:00

In about 15 minutes, I am going to leave for class where we will be discussing one-another's beat sheets. It has always been my opinion that beat sheets are of a personal nature, and are structured as the person sees fit to suit their own understanding of emotional shifts and scene work. OUTLINES are useful in discussing how heavy or light a scene is, and how much material is useless, useful, and where the plot holes are located. But yesterday, I shared my beat sheet with thc class--my beat sheet strucured like an outline. And today, I will critique other's private writing techniques based on what my instructor, who does not actually seem invested or interested in the class, has "taught" us.
In about 5 hours, I will find out whether or not our washing machine is fixed, and then, possibly, go and air my dirty laundry in public. Laudromats scare me. Actually, taking my laundry in public scares me--especially towels, underwear, and socks. The socks and underwear are so easy to lose, and so easy to misplace, and, they are also the most awkward to think of someond finding. Here's hoping that machine is fixed and working by the end of today, because I cannot go another day without doing laundry.

Today, I'm going to lay it all out there--flash Los Angeles County, if you will. Too bad I'm so pasty from winter in the Midwest.

And before I forget, please visit Andy Hannon's Blog. He's a funny kid with a funny contest. But don't enter the contest, because I think I should win since I'd like to see banana bread travel 2000 miles.

Nouning: California Positives

2009-02-08T17:24:00.000-08:00

Here is a list of positive nouns about being in California This is more for my own sanity than anything, but maybe nouning will become a Sunday ritual for me:

Positive (New) People:
1. Georgie: Awesome roommate.
2. Rachel: Awesome (hiking) classmate.
3. Eric: Awesome (annoyed) classmate.
4. Chris: Awesome (asshole) classmate.
5. Jeremy: Awesome Friend-of-a-friend
6. Sean: Awesome-ish (kinda, I guess... just kidding, Sean is fun) Friend-of-a-friend.
7. Zach: Awesome (pug owning) friend-of-a-friend-of-a-friend.
8. Lou: Awesome WWII Vet and Olympian.
9. Jack Gilbert: Awesome instructor.

Positive (New) Places:
1. My house: Awesome cute little office space and cute little bedroom and cute little yard.
2. Griffith Park: Awesome hiking trails.
3. In-and-Out Burger: Awesome (cheap) burger place!

Positive (New) Other Things:
1. My car: Awesome Pontiac Vibe in Salsa Red.
2. Writing letters: Awesome way to stay in touch, plan the revolution, and pass the time.
3. My cabinet in my room: Awesome place for hanging random stuff from friends (send more!).
4. Dolphins: Awesome creatures in the wild!
5. Sunshine: Awesome way to make me smile.
6. Howl and Other Poems: Awesome (not new) poetry that has saved my life.

See, things aren't so bad? I just have to adjust to the new environment, and that will take awhile. I can't wait, though, until I can list Awesome (New) Job among the Positive (New) Other Things.
Here's hoping for a Positive Week! And a new category idea...

Plumbing--What a Strange Word

2009-02-07T12:44:00.000-08:00

So, I wake up this morning, and I smell like cigarettes. Yes, I succumbed and smoked a few. It had been three months, and now I feel kinda bad about it, but I've had my fix for another three months, I suppose. Honestly, though, it just reminded me of Chicago and how I met people out there. Now, it's a way to escape from people and remember. Point is, I smelled out-of-character, so I wanted to shower. Our hot water was not working. I have no idea if it was the water heater, or some big karmic kick in the ass for smoking, but the water is just barely lukewarm. So I take the first cold shower of my life, and it's for all the wrong reasons. Not that there are ever right reasons to take a cold shower, but there are certainly more dramatic ones. I get done with the worst shower ever, and not five minutes later, the maintenance guy comes to fix things.
Then, I go to do laundry. Georgie informs me that the washing machine is, once again, broken. So, I was supposed to go for a hike and 1, but I'm instead stuck waiting on another maintenance guy to fix the washing machine. Then I'm going to go for a really long hike, wash my towels, and take a really long, really hot shower.

In other news, my faith was restored in the power of imagination when I went to see Coraline in 3-D last night. It was whimsical and beautiful. It threw realism to the wind in everything from acknowledging Coraline's beautiful blue hair to creating a lore and a story that felt scary enough to get me out of my seat. Mr. Gaiman, Mr. Selick, bravo. I love you. The children who see this movie and got to see something new and real love you. And if they don't now, they will in the future when they realize the worlds you opened for them. Even the 3-D felt like less of a gimick than it normally does, emphasizing the bizarre world and pulling me in deeper. The past three months, I have found myself leaving more and more movies smiling. Even with life, both on mass and personal levels, being so chaotic and unpredictable, the film industry is giving me (and others, I'm sure) hope in the human spirit, in the individual's ability to influence the collective conscience. I so wish to be a part of it!

The things I do on rainy days...

2009-02-05T14:08:00.000-08:00

So, after two facebook notes, the most boring class ever, Tyra, and Maury, I find myself wondering what it is I am doing with my life.
Actually, that's a lie. It feels like real college right now, which is too funny.

But seriously, I was watching Tyra and she posed this question: If you found out your sig. o. was "gay for pay" how would you feel?
And she got half an hour out of that. I'm having a hard time coming up with a second sentence.

Today, I think I realized I don't want to work in television as a writer. Unless I'm writing bad ideas for daytime talk shows.

This blog of mine needs to find a focus. I need a hobby. Or a job. Or something.
Any ideas?

Morning Quickie... AND SOLITICITATION

2009-02-03T07:45:00.001-08:00

I sent out five letters to be mailed to various parts of Illinois ranging from its largest to (probably) one of its smallest towns. And one to Michigan-almost forgot about that. Writing letters is so fun. I had forgotten how fun, actually.
SO with that I am soliciting you, my readers, for some help:
I have a bookshelf. Only three shelves are filled with books. I also have a wall with a mirror and lots of space. SEND ME PICTURES--I don't care if they're drawn or photographed, but send me pictures. They can be silly or seriously or sentimental, but all I ask is that you mail them to me. Let me know if you need my address in Glendale, because, and I'm serious here I'm serious, folks, brown walls are not pleasant. However, pictures, like the ones on my cabinet in my room, are extremely heart-lightening and superfun. And I want to remember everyone. AND you will probably get a letter back because I love writing letters. And because I don't have to walk down 17 floors and through a creepy hallway to mail them--I just reach out my front door.
So this is quite the deal people. It's better than Shamwow. It's better the Oxyclean. Don't send 19.95, send a picture, and in return you get a piece of your work in sunny Glendale and a return letter. From ME!

Super Bowl Blues

2009-02-01T21:47:00.000-08:00

My team won. The Steelers have six Super Bowl wins--more than anyone else. Beautiful. Chicago sent me over 100 text messages tonight, plus two or three phone calls, plus some outgoing ones of my own. The Super Bowl is honestly a bigger deal to me than my birthday. It's something I look forward to every year, and I'm glad I had a place to go tonight. But damn it, Chicago misses me. And I miss it.
But wasn't that game amazing? That was a Super Bowl. It was only boring for about ten minutes. Excitement, close calls, weird calls, and good defense from both sides all the way through. Just brilliant. And Santonio Holmes deserved to be MVP, hands down. He played a great game.

On a sidenote:
I haven't hugged a single person in two weeks. Isn't that strange to think about?

Recap of Week 2 in LA

2009-01-30T13:23:00.000-08:00

-Went to church in a nightclub. Interesting.
-Got two calls about potential jobs. We'll see if any of them lead anywhere. I really want the one.
-Got a parking ticket. $50.00. Again, I hope the jobs lead somewhere.
-Became totally creeped out by someone I thought might be a friend.
-Have spent about 15 hours in class. Not sure how I feel about it.
-Filled up my gas tank.
-Saw the ocean. Or a gaping black hole that was going to kill me. Or both. Not sure.
None of this is in order.

I'm going to write a species-ist story about humans and squirrels because I've nothing better to do.

One day, a squirrel went to his neighbor's house. He climbed the siding to ring the doorbell. His neighbor, a middle-aged woman named Pam, answered. Pam, as it turns out, was deathly afraid of rodents, so she screamed and slammed the door. The squirrel's little paw got caught in the door and one of his little digits was cut off. The woman screamed and called for her oldest son, who picked it up and threw it away. Indignant at this blatant species-ism, the squirrel went to an attorney.
"Listen, I have lived in this neighborhood for years, and this woman just cut off my finger. What are my rights?"
The lawyer just stared at him.
Again, the squirrel became indignant. He went to PETA.
"Listen, I have been mistreated and then denied proper help in court."
PETA representatives told him that unless his species was farmed for food or used in coats, not to bother them. They had baby seals and mink to save.
After being rejected by PETA, the little squirrel gathered other little squirrels. Together, they decided they would exact revenge upon the woman and her inconsiderate, digit-snatching ways. So together, they tipped over the squirrel's tree onto her house. The roof caved, and the woman came running and screaming from her house as the little squirrels all dispersed.
It was only then that the squirrel realized he no longer had a home. Once again indignant, he asked his fellow squirrels why they didn't stop him. One squirrel dared answer the little fella in his rage.
"Dude, we just got you a new house. Move in."
So the little squirrel moved into the caved-in house. He became a Gatsby of sorts, parleying his indignation into the appearance of money. After all, what other squirrel lives in a house?
He almost lived happily ever after.
Eventually, the other squirrels, in their own indignation, realized that they had created this monster and he had never properly repaid them. So they staged a mutiny. They took over his home, kicked him out, and then cut off all of his digits and his head. The house, once a nice place, became a squirrel slum of sorts, after first becoming gang headquarters.
This all took place in the course of a week, and by that time, the family had hired someone to renovate their home and exterminate the little squirrels inside. No one was left to be indignant, and, once again, humans prevailed.

And for what? More of the same?

2009-01-28T17:35:00.000-08:00

So I started classes.
I thought it'd help me establish a routine. I thought it'd help me meet people.
And it's just like January in Chicago, except I can go into the park and hike. While that makes a huge difference, I feel a little... what's the word... ah, yes, screwed.
I had a great life established in Chicago, and, while I acknowledged that I was happy, I did not fully appreciate what having present, wonderful friends, a job, classes, and a decent and established reputation could do for a person. I was, in short, a big fish in a small-ish pond. And instead of moving to a lake, I went straight for the Pacific Ocean.
And, to quote Coldplay, I got lost. Only, thank goodness... maybe... I don't have a gun.
Classes, as it turns out, are short, sweet, and next to useless. The people I've met are all alright, but no one knows the area, so we're all at a loss as to what to do. Many seem either timid or bitchy--daunted by the competition and compelled to shut down and show off rather than open up and build camaraderie. It's like being on the Titanic. We all are going down, but some of us will get a lifeboat. And some will kill to get the lifeboat. If we'd all cooperate, I'd say one lifeboat could probably hold all of us.
Point is, I left Chicago because I was bored and because I felt out of place--the poor kid at a private college. Now I'm still poor and still bored, and, even worse I'm lonely.
To make matters worse, I honestly believed all this faith people seem to have in me. Now it feels like a lot of smoke up my ass, and I'm questioning myself constantly. I can't even open my mouth all the way, my jaw is so tense. Maybe I could cheer myself up by standing in front of the mirror and trying to yawn.
And maybe I could try and see what they said they saw. Maybe there's a revolutionary in there somewhere. And maybe not.

But damn it, the sun still shines. And thank God for that.

I've Got 5 Minutes

2009-01-25T17:15:00.001-08:00

About to head to church in a nightclub.
Found my purse and found some people to help carry this ugly desk into my house. But now I have a desk.
Bought a chair at IKEA. Bought a useless extension cord. Seriously--why would you make an extension cord that only supports the 2-pronged plugs. I will never understand.

Last night, I finally realized just how far 2000 miles is. It's funny how when you lose identity, your access to cash, and your transportation how good even Chicago in January can look. Especially when you've got your giant, your old woman, your musician, and your secretary all contacting you letting you know "they'd help if they could."
It's like I told Jordan today: they have it so lucky; I get out here first, knowing no one so that when they get out here, they have it easy. They'll have the friendly face with the car that can haul anything and park anywhere. They'll have the guide and the contacts. They'll have me. But I guess that's all I have, too, and everything did work out. What it comes down to is the fact that I am pretty neat and regardless of one bad day and one 24-hour period when I would have rather been in Chicago, I am doing just fine.

The sun came out today for the first time in two days. I swear that makes all the difference.

Now, to tackle that dead mouse in my kitchen...

Getting the Koala Out

2009-01-23T15:56:00.001-08:00

When I was small, my dad put a koala in my head. His name was Gary. He's small an gray, like all koalas. He can talk, and he can sing and dance. He's rather partial to the Blues Brothers theme song, and I'm finally sharing him with the world.
Dad's bedtime story is becoming a screen play. He's stuck with me for so long, and he has taught me to be myself, to love myself, and to pursue my dreams on my terms. I just wanna get Gary on paper so maybe other people can benefit as well. So today, I did just that. I started my outline and I wrote.

Now I want to write here.
Today, it has rained most the day. It's nice, though, that it's not ice pellets stinging my face. But that's just the weather. Nothing gets this place down. It's amazing. Yesterday, I hiked to the Hollywood sign and met a WWII veteran and former Olympian, a lovely man named Lou. He talked to us for nearly three hours and welcomed three strangers into his home. The strange thing is, everyone on the street or on the trails smiled and said hello. I just cannot get over how kind everyone is so far. Even the dogs are friendlier. In Chicago, if anyone was walking their dog, they would give you a dirty look for staring at it. Here, no one cares if you bend over and pet the dog. Actually, yesterday on the foothills, one dog actually followed us for a long while. As much as I'm alone here and know so few people, I don't feel it. In Chicago, unless I was surrounded by my friends, I felt lonely all the time. It was cold, even in the summer, and you'd be hard pressed to find a smile. Here, I feel a part of humanity and I feel human. I feel closer to my friends despite the 2000 miles distance, and I love it. To think a week ago I was scared to death and crying in my car makes me laugh.
Last night, I got connected with a few people--Columbia graduates. They were great fun, and it was awesome to have conversation and to meet new people. It makes me excited to start classes and meet even more people.

In terms of my faith, I feel like I've grown leaps and bounds even in just five days. God has truly shown his presence in my life. What's really awesome is I feel like I can say that here and face less judgment than I would back home or in Chicago. I feel my prayers again, and I can feel God's presence. Everything is working out so well, and it is clearly not my doing. He has had my back all this time, and now, in the valley, I see it. And there's no shadow of death here--it's all sunshine.

Los Angeles Update

2009-01-21T14:19:00.000-08:00

I'm in LA County now--Glendale. The place I found via craigslist is quite impressive--it's cute, my roommates are incredibly kind, and the neighborhood is beautiful. I've nearly unpacked, and I'm trying to get in touch with people out here. It's tough, though. You can't just red line it to where ever or meet people on campus. Here, it's driving and gas money and traffic. But it's also only been three days. I have to remember that.
My cell phone charger port came detached from the phone, so I'm waiting on a new one as the batter power dwindles.
Honestly, though, I love it here. Granted, I'm in the "burbs", but it's great. People are pretty friendly, too. Even the traffic, which I thought would be angry, is actually pretty laid back. As much as people go too fast, and as much as it's crowded, everyone seems to respect the fact that we're all in the same boat. Rarely have I heard anyone honk their horns.
Right now, I'm watching 30 Rock on DVR because my roommates and I love good TV, apparently. Haha. More later...

Good-Bye Chicago

2009-01-09T18:44:00.000-08:00

Today I left Chicago for a long time. There will be no going back for at least 12 weeks, and in the mean time, I will move to a new state, meet with "industry people", and, hopefully, come closer to achieving my dream of becoming a film maker. The ride back on the train was a strange one. I left at three on the California Zephyr--a train whose last stop will be my new home in just 9 days. The superliner trains like that, they travel quietly. It was like watching the Midwest and its Mecca pass by me through a veil. The windows were a little dirty, and that sound, or that absence of sound made me feel invisible. I fell asleep for a bit and woke to the sun setting red over the cornfields and wind farms and a text message from my mother. The one time my train is on time, she's running late. But it's for the sake of change. She's applying for a full-time job and a chance to break away from the smallness of Rock Island. I love her.
I am experience so much right now, sitting on my bed writing this. A little loss, a little sadness, but also overwhelming excitement and happiness--I will finally get sunshine and a chance to be who I want to be--a mover and shaker of my culture. And I feel so much love. These past four days I've spent with friends have been amazing. In the three semesters I've spent at Columbia, I have met some of the most wonderful people. People who liked me as I was where I was, and people whom I could love for their creativity and kindness. Today and yesterday, especially, I understood that devout thanksgiving of which Emerson spoke. I will miss these people every day, but with the wonderful knowledge that they will not cease to be a part of my life. They will continue to make me laugh and smile. They will continue to amaze me with their creativity and wit. And, hopefully, I will remain with them as well.
So perhaps it is not loss that I feel. Perhaps I'm a little sore from expanding my horizons and my heart.
My friends, if you read this, I love you. I love each and every one of you, and I will try my hardest to remain with you, even from "my cottage in the Western night."

Wow, this is exhilerating. I'm writing again, I have a voice again, and it's all because I've stopped being afraid for just a moment and counted my blessings.

I'm attaching Part 3 of Ginsberg's Howl. I think it's appropriate in its sentiment, and, partially, in location. I am in Rock(Is)land and soon I will be west. Love it. Chicago, like Rock(Is)land, is an asylum. Get out and join me, Comrades.

                   III

      Carl Solomon! I'm with you in Rockland
             where you're madder than I am
      I'm with you in Rockland
             where you must feel very strange
      I'm with you in Rockland
             where you imitate the shade of my mother
      I'm with you in Rockland
             where you've murdered your twelve secretaries
      I'm with you in Rockland
             where you laugh at this invisible humor
      I'm with you in Rockland
             where we are great writers on the same dreadful
             typewriter
      I'm with you in Rockland
             where your condition has become serious and
             is reported on the radio
      I'm with you in Rockland
             where the faculties of the skull no longer admit
             the worms of the senses
      I'm with you in Rockland
             where you drink the tea of the breasts of the
             spinsters of Utica
      I'm with you in Rockland
             where you pun on the bodies of your nurses the
             harpies of the Bronx
      I'm with you in Rockland
             where you scream in a straightjacket that you're
             losing the game of the actual pingpong of the
             abyss
      I'm with you in Rockland
             where you bang on the catatonic piano the soul
             is innocent and immortal it should never die
             ungodly in an armed madhouse
      I'm with you in Rockland
             where fifty more shocks will never return your
             soul to its body again from its pilgrimage to a
             cross in the void
      I'm with you in Rockland
             where you accuse your doctors of insanity and
             plot the Hebrew socialist revolution against the
             fascist national Golgotha
      I'm with you in Rockland
             where you will split the heavens of Long Island
             and resurrect your living human Jesus from the
             superhuman tomb
      I'm with you in Rockland
             where there are twenty-five-thousand mad com-
             rades all together singing the final stanzas of the Internationale
      I'm with you in Rockland
             where we hug and kiss the United States under
             our bedsheets the United States that coughs all
             night and won't let us sleep
      I'm with you in Rockland
             where we wake up electrified out of the coma
             by our own souls' airplanes roaring over the
             roof they've come to drop angelic bombs the
             hospital illuminates itself imaginary walls col-
             lapse O skinny legions run outside O starry
             spangled shock of mercy the eternal war is
             here O victory forget your underwear we're
             free
      I'm with you in Rockland
             in my dreams you walk dripping from a sea-
             journey on the highway across America in tears
             to the door of my cottage in the Western night