|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
10 Hours Later: Shite.
So, I watched the Oscars. What a strange ceremony, eh? It was like the weird adoptive red-head child of the ceremony. Very bumpy. Off camera crashes, booms, bangs. Weird camera angles, scurrying techies missing their “get off the stage” cues. Even a strange assortment of actors. It was almost sans glitz, a whole array of second tier actors. You had your couple of starlets, sure, Portman, Roberts, but the rest it was like, your old time classics: Clint Eastwood, Al Pacino, Dustin Hoffman and… P. Diddy? And did yo notice all the empty seats, what was up?
All in all, however, I actually enjoyed the ceremony. It was fast, funny, bumpy as all hell, but on the whole rather fun.
I am so glad Kaufman won for “Eternal Sunshine.” It was by far the most imaginative piece of writing which graced Hollywood this year- or, let’s face it one of the most creative pieces to great Hollywood in a score of years, and, wow. I wasn’t sure he was going to get it and he did and hooray forever.
Jamie Foxx repeated his acceptance speech mastery again. A great little speech, perfect balance of humor and poignancy.
Though amused by her omnipresence, I thought Beyoncé did a fabulous job singing. She ruled the Webber song.
Chris Rock was hilarious. I loved the little Magic Johnson theatre skit. Who was that woman? “You’re crowdin’ up on me there Chris.” And… Albert Brooks? I laughed.
And yes. “White Chicks” was robbed.
suddenly i was @ 11:00 pm
(no feathers)
sunday, february 27, 2005
Comedy of Errors: Also know as, “Me at the Gym.”
Today was an interesting trip to the gym. I went and knew immediately it wasn’t going to be the best work out when I was driven to distraction on the treadmill by my nose which insisted on feeling like it needed to sneeze. I kept bumping it and sniffing, encouraging the sneeze to come, but to no avail.
Finally, somewhere over by the leg curl I couldn’t take it anymore. I was about to blow, sneeze-wise- that was certain and I felt sure I was to snot everywhere if that came to pass and if that sneeze did not come in t-minus 2 minutes I was about to shove my fist into my nostril to remove any blockage. I felt, however, for either activity to come to pass I should remove myself from the public view of the main floor and sequester myself into the ladies locker room. I rose from my machine and ran along. I didn’t look up. I didn’t pause to think of direction. I was Scarlet O’Hara and my nose REALLY needed to sneeze. I let my feet take me and so distraught was I, I ran into the men’s locker room.
I ran in, looked up, uttered, “Dear God,” and ran out.
- Hoping, mind, that no one noticed.
The next interesting thing, was when all the exercise was over and out I went into the LADIES’ locker room and noticed a girl standing in her underwear doing her hair. I thought to myself, “why would anyone do their hair at the gym?” when a voice came out of nowhere saying my name, I looked again at the girl in the face and LO. She was the receptionist from my work.
I was so embarrassed, A. did she think I was looking at her in her underwear? B. now when I see her all I will be able to think about is her in her underwear and C. I looked like Walter Matthau. I can’t wear hip riding sweats which are all the rage, because my body type doesn’t let me (literally, the sweats crouch would be at my knees), so there I am like Fred Murtz with my sweats practically at my dewlap and then my shirt I was wearing (a good 9 years old) was all hanging down in front and bunched up in the back as to accentuate my rather endowed ASS.
Me: Hi, I’m hot.
Anyhow, she was very nice and said she just moved so she has no place to do her hair so she was making use of the gym locker room. On Monday I’ll run up to her and say, “Hey underwear!” and she can say, “Hey Grumpy Old Man!” and then I will ask her if she needs to borrow anything so she doesn’t have to do her hair at the gym or maybe if she goes to the gym often I will see her again and have a gym buddy.
I really don’t like my new script. I don’t know what to do with it. I feel like it is contrived and god-stinking awful. I am trying to make my main character have some redeeming graces so to make him sympathetic to the audience. He’s much older than all my other characters so I can’t even play the innocence card. I guess I don’t need to make him sympathetic to an audience (see “Trainspotting” for example, a highly dislikable protagonist, but interesting enough to captivate). Right now I think he is just a depressive blah (har, like his auteur). I don’t see why anyone would be engaged with him and his situation. At this point in time, he just seems like, I don’t know. I would watch him on screen and think, “Get over yourself.”
I am also having a hard time because the story involves an affair with two people where one is CONSIDERABLY older than the other. Now first, I don’t care for affairs. I don’t care if the two people who are being illicit are totally in love.
Me: Break it off with number one first, jesus.
It’s unnecessarily cruel to the other party- I don’t know. Then this age gap thing. It’s a fine line of “this could maybe work” and “OMG PERV!!!1”
Oh just kill me.
Also, I have a question, but I will post later.
Last!
Ok. When I get it into my head I want something, the fiery seed is planted and I obsess. So a while back I decided I wanted the script to Melody. My old Brit flick? Of course, I can’t find it. I was even treated RUDELY by a few big script vaults when I asked for it. Now I have it in my head I will just have to write the writer and ask for it (please, forgive me, it was 3 am when I came to this conclusion).
Here are my options (currently). The writer is Alan Parker who is something of a celebrated director now, a knight, whatever. So at least won’t be totally obscure. I found the address, but I am loathe to use it because though, as far as addresses go, this seems totally legit- the C.A.A., very plausible, but hello! I found it online. My other option is, Parker wrote a book, “The Sucker’s Kiss,” see here. I could write his publisher. – Though I only have the Americano one here, not the English one, which was the original publisher. – And stinking amazon.co.uk won’t let me look inside the book! Either way, if I wrote the publisher would I send a letter addressed to Sir Parker C/O, or would I send a letter requesting something to be forwarded- arg.
Me: Hi Mister Knight-person. Remember that could be mediorce film you wrote back in the late 60’s? Well I think the ending was something of a cop-out and the music insulting, but I totally want to read your first script anyhow, do you have a copy?
The other thing I could do I suppose is write the distributor of the film- though they probably aren’t even in business anymore.
What should I do?
What would Jesus do?
P.S. I think Jesus would read this book. Set in the early 1900’s and the main character is a pick pocket, be still my beating heart Batman, I think I just found my Robin.
suddenly i was @ 01:53 am
(no feathers)
wednesday, february 23, 2005
Well, to push that more embarrassing post down and away, I choose to shower everyone with presents. Before I do, however, someone has to FORBID me from watching “Melody” clips. It’s becoming my new comfort movie- and here I thought nothing would replace “It’s A Hard Day’s Night.”
First, because I know you have all been waiting for years upon years: here are those “Bicycle Thief” screencaps.
I never understood the pull of screencaps. I always thought it would be intensely boring, but again, I must say I find the process, on the whole, strangely satisfying.
Anyhow. Some information on the “Bicycle Thief.” The “Bicycle Thief” is considered something of a cinematic masterwork, certainly in Italian film (the film is Italian, “Ladri di Biciclette” ). It’s simplicity at its best, a testament to why EVERYONE should use amateur actors every once and a while and quite lyrical to boot. It’s the story of a man who needs a bicycle to do his job, when his bike is stolen, however, he and his young son trek all over Rome in search of it.
I am debating how much I should go on? What follows is: a poignant look at the everyday man, what makes a man do what he does, the nature of desperation and the relationship between a father and son. Take your pick. Anyhow, I think you should pick it up. The photography is lovely if nothing else and you can feel all elitist after watching it and say, “Oh that De Sica, what WON’T he come up with next?”
Sorry the caps are a bit- all over the place as far as order. I’m too lazy to organize. You will note, however, the use of photobucket. I’m so proud (I just wrote “bored,” Freudian slip?). I’m all growns up. I want to join cap_it now. Slobber up and say, “Melody, De Sica.”
suddenly i was @ 01:55 am
(no feathers)
tuesday, february 22, 2005
Well it’s official. I can’t stand my job. I didn’t love it before, but at least I could work and think to myself. Now it is pure torture. I feel like I am dying every day I go. The people there are the only redeeming quality, I love my coworkers, I want everyone to know that, but the work is killing me. I would never attach my name to anything I make for it, I am so overwhelmed with work there’s no creativity any more and when I say creativity, I don’t mean for the job only. I have no room in my heads for my thoughts. I can’t hear the voice in my head. The only other time in my life I was disconnected from my own mind was when I was sick with a 102 degree temperature. I don’t draw any more. Ever. I don’t read. I can’t write because 12 hours of my life is filled with deadlines, spam email and site changes. I try and try, but I can’t hear my voice, I can’t think anymore. I’m so unhappy, I know I shouldn’t be, which makes it worse, but I can’t help it. I even realized the other day I don’t have friends anymore. I used to joke about not having a life, but now, I really don’t. You know it’s true when your father comes in and says, “maybe I can find someone who can hang out with you.” I never, ever, ever see people. I only know five here now, three of which don’t even bother talking to me (not that I am the best instigator around) and the other two are just way too busy with their own lives. My friends in other timezones and countries don’t call or write anymore. I feel alone and whereas before I at least had my work, my interests and hopes and thoughts to be with me, now there’s nothing, there’s just this gaping void of nothing. I can’t stand myself, my work, my life- I thought these were the years to have fun? I haven’t had fun. All I have ever done is work and it was all pointless! Why the HELL did I put effort into anything because it lead nowhere! I can’t even hear my thoughts. I am just dead, completely dead. Quite honestly, if I was to evaporate, the only things which would miss me would be: the livejournal homepage, my fish, my cat and the couch.
suddenly i was @ 10:03 pm
(no feathers)
friday, february 18, 2005
First, in remembrance of the Mini George catastrophe of tonight.No, not late Mister Gower. MIA.
MIA.
Second: Melody. Oh my god! I love it.
I have only watched about 20 minutes, but I actually think I might adore this movie. Oh my god. I bought it as a joke, and it might just be as good as I read it was! I will keep you posted, tell you if it indeed proves fruitful.
I can’t believe how much I already love this.
Delight on WHEELS.
Here some lyrics which sum up the feel of this movie:
In the chilly hours and minutes,
Of uncertainty, I want to be,
In the warm hold of your loving mind.
To feel you all around me,
And to take your hand, along the sand,
Ah, but I may as well try and catch the wind.
When sundown pales the sky,
I wanna hide a while, behind your smile,
And everywhere I'd look, your eyes I'd find.
For me to love you now,
Would be the sweetest thing, 'twould make me sing,
Ah, but I may as well, try and catch the wind.
When rain has hung the leaves with tears,
I want you near, to kill my fears
To help me to leave all my blues behind.
For standin' in your heart,
Is where I want to be, and I long to be,
Ah, but I may as well, try and catch the wind.
suddenly i was @ 01:41 am
(no feathers)
thursday, february 17, 2005
oh my god. OH MY GOD.
I am in a involved in a mystery in the manner of "The Davinci Code." I call it "The Mini George Code."
What is going ON IMDB?
So I rented "Francis the Talking Mule" (along with "The Bicycle Thief" (Italian) and "Butterfly" (Spanish), why do I allow myself in the video rental store?). Now IMDB claims Mini George plays and uncredited role of "Captain Grant," within the first 5 minutes of the film, Captain Grant comes on- now. There's no way. There's NO WAY, unless within five years mini george aged 22 years. i watched over and over again, thinking, "I guess that could be-- he should be 17!"
I called my dad in and my dad very forthrightly said there was no way it was Mini George, he looked too old! Looked, was! He also had a mustache and was smoking, making it increasingly difficult to tell.
Here are some possible solutions:
A. IMDB has combined mini George's resume with someone else's (there are twenty other people who share his real name in the database). I mean they have the birth year wrong- which is evident even in the filmography; the first entry states Mini George played some little boy in a WWII film, a part called "little boy, age 7" which, if true, makes him exactly 12 for "It's a Wonderful Life," which IS how old he is supposed to be- and if we believe this, he would be 17 in "Francis."
Problem: Captain Grant, IS NOT 17. Not by a long shot. –But! But, could very easily pull off a late twenties-early thirties, indicative of a person born in 1923 the IMDB birth year listing, not 1933, which should be Mini George’s birthyear.
B. He plays a bit part, not Captain Grant, but one of the young soldiers and an over excited IMDB employee, just listed it wrong. Tony Curtis has a bit part.
I. Evidence of this, upon further viewing, there is a young soldier in Francis, who has a 5 second part with something like two lines. The camera never gets close enough to tell for certain, but I think it may be him. The soldier’s age is right, the role is small enough it wouldn’t necessarily be credited and he looks like Mini George. I hope this is the case, because if so- thesis proven, Mini George turned out hot.
C. Mini George was never in “Francis.”
D. Due to some heinous rapid aging disease, that Captain Grant is, in fact, the mini George we all know and love.
I am SO confused and conflicted. Who is Mini George? What do I do? Why am I the only one who cares- but even Mini George, a kid actor from the 1940’s deserves enough respect to get his IMDB profile right!
I’m going to write him. He’s still alive.
Me: Dear Mister Anderson,
Hi. I am like your biggest fan living. Were you, or were you not in “Francis the Talking Mule” made in 1950? If you were, who are you? Are you Captain Grant, if so, what happened between the years 1947 and 1950? Czech poisoning and bovine growth hormones?
TRAUMA.
Excuse me while I go back and FURTHER analyze. I might have to get a DVD of this just to screencap everything for you guys, because you totally care. Right?
RIGHT!?
In other news. Guess what came today?
I. Love. Jack Wild. AND the movie actually looks good!
suddenly i was @ 09:35 pm
(no feathers)
point the second. - oi, i mean third. SQUEE. i am excited. my local video store has a copy of "francis the talking mule" also known as a movie with mini george as a (hot?) 17 year old in a bit part. i am going tomorrow. if it wasn't three degrees outside and... past midnight, i would go now. so if the part is substantial (PLEASE have a talking role), yes. i will have to buy the dvd so i can screencap.
TEH BIG ISSUE.
imdb has an error. i know this, because i have no life. what do i do? they have the wrong year listed for mini george's birth year. they have it down as 1923 which would make him 23 in "it's a wonderful life," which is, well, wrong. he was 12 when he was cast. 13 when it was released. the year should be 1933. i tried to send a correction along, but was thwarted when asked for documentation. - now, because i love the mini george, i will go to the library, get me some god-forsaken print, but still! HOW could such a travesty have occurred?
i also am really, really battling retail therapy. i added a bunch of things to my amazon cart for fun today (i LOVE that "save for later" option). here's what i added: "full metal jacket," "dr. strangelove" and "hedwig and the angry inch."
suddenly i was @ 02:05 am
(no feathers)
tuesday, february 15, 2005
Valentine’s day is such a crook. I really don’t have bitter feelings about it, it’s just one more day out of the year those who have “special others” can feel more special than the rest of the population and I can say, “I know what I will do tonight- watch television by myself!”
To celebrate V-day (D-day reference not lost I hope), I A. sent out an email laden with Dr. Strangelove quotes (I hope people realize such, otherwise what are they going to think of the “From me to Precious Bodily Fluids” subject line?) and B. Watched “Aladdin.”
Aladdin is one of those films which has pretty much destroyed any concept I have of having a relationship. If my street-rat soulmate doesn’t show up on a goddamn magic carpet to serenade me, the deal is so off. What’s that new book now? She’s not into him either? Well that’s me towards you buddy if you forget the flying doormat, got it?
I love Disney. I admit this. It’s sad, I know, but I do. Correction: I love Disney when Disney is good. Dumbo, Little Mermaid, Beauty and the Beast. Aladdin was never one of my big favourites, but I still know all the dialogue. The reason I can’t remember anything nowadays is because a large portion of my brain is used to store Disney dialogue (why, WHY do I know all the lines to “Aristocats?”). I remember liking Iago and the Carpet best in Aladdin. Iago. Disney went through a big Shakespeare phase there for a while, Ariel, Sebastian…
No Hamlet, alas.
I guess they decided to not do the Freudian wonder after child-friendly Quasimodo bombed (I mean, I thought it was great to finally see the bell-ringer come out on top- but Victor Hugo for kids? Come on. Someone was smoking opiates that day in the pitch meeting).
There is really two points to this post.
1. I think “One Jump Ahead” reprise is highly reminiscent of “Sante Fe Reprise” from Newsies, also written by the unstoppable Menken/Ashman team.
I kid you not. See the lyrics:
Riffraff, street rat
I don't buy that
If only they'd look closer
Would they see a poor boy? No, siree
They'd find out
There's so much more to me
Santa Fe
My old friend
I can't spend my whole life hidin'
You're the only light that's guidin' me today
Will you keep a candle burnin'?
Will you help me find my way?
You're my chance to break free
And who knows when my next one will be?
Santa Fe
Wait for me
Or as I like to call it “One Jump to Santa Fe”
Riffraff, newsie
That’s all they see
If only they’d look closer!
Would they see a news boy? - No siree
They’d find out,
There’s so much more… to me-
Santa Fe-
One Jump away…
I can’t spend my whole life hidin’
No more pape’s or talkin’ apes today
Just keep an oil lamp burnin’
And Carpet will find the way
You’re my chance to break free
And who knows when the Genie’s will be?
Santa Fe…
You’re One Jump away…
But wait for me.
Maybe you need to hear the two together to get it.
NOTE FROM THE FUTURE.
An exhaustive internet search, turned first time itunes store visit, gone “how do I unprotect this file?” to sound editor shenanigans… basically more than an hour of my time- and what do you get?
Well certainly not bibbidibobbidi.
First. Audio Proof..
Second. The crappiest mix evah! It’s Jack and Aladdin as they were always meant to be… SINGING TOGETHER, brought to you by my own very own 15 minute sound edit skazills. Please to enjoy commentary those with itunes. - Download to listen!
2. Aladdin is rather notorious for being HIGHLY DERIVATIVE (cough) of another film, “The Thief and the Cobbler” (think Kimba and Simba). I appreciate Aladdin for what it is and think it has a lot going on its own, but, well whatever. I was just wondering if anyone else has seen this film? There are a few animators on my friends list. In my classes I was the only one ever to have a seen it. The film was butchered for release. A silent character was given a Popeye-esque post-production voice over, several scenes were cut and in the wake of Aladdin which it follow on the heels thereof, it was all but forgotten in release (except by me! I saw it!) and has since fallen down the cracks of the island of misfit films.
If you haven’t seen this film, you should. Even the butchered version is visually stunning.
That is all, Colonel Bat Guano, IF that is your real name.
suddenly i was @ 09:25 am
(no feathers)
sunday, february 13, 2005
I was typing up some notes from my notebook from work. When I am in the workforce, I often like to write down things I hear- ie lyrics from songs, which happen to invoke some imagery or feelings I like. This is the end result:
I am a man built of kings
Faith falls through your walls
I want to be for you
So lay down your head
I’ve fallen deep
I remember when I saw your face shining my way
My love is deathless
Forgive me my many faults and many pains
At this moment you mean everything
Stand by the water casting your breath
Fools rush in where angels fear to tread
Shed one more layer of skin
It’s not so soft the rain falling in
Making love to you was never second best
Undry your thoughts
In the desert of my dreams
I can’t find anything but a void inside
It’s the endlessness you fear
I can hardly express my thoughtlessness
It’s the tears on the sleeve of a man
If you promise to stay conscious, I’ll try the same
These shackles of language
That’s the pain that cuts you straight down the heart, we call it love
Love is real, not poetry and stories
Cast off doubt, let your lips speak for you
Sail on silver bird
Me: it's a poem!
I love happy surprises.
See if you can figure out the songs. Tip: sometimes the words are wrong, I just wrote them down as I heard them because that's the way I like it (see: breath, I'm pretty sure in real life that word is bread). Tip 2: some of these aren't lyrics, I don't know what they are.
suddenly i was @ 04:27 pm
(no feathers)
tuesday, february 8, 2005
Wow. Today was awful at work. Really. So much so, I don’t know if I want to write about it to commemorate the experience.
COWORKER: You’re making me feel better. So we’re not totally bombing then.
BOSS PERSON: Well, that unsub link… that… that was a doozy, but we’re only going to make that mistake once, right? You make that mistake once and if you make it again… - well you only make that mistake once.
Nice.
I can’t stand email. It’s all numbers and a crap program which makes no coherent sense. I’m terrible with numbers. Always have been. My brain is wired wrong and I really can’t handle them. I am the animator who couldn’t number her drawings because she got confused and had to letter them instead. I couldn’t shoot frames without making tick marks because I couldn’t keep count of shooting twos and threes. I’m just an idiot this way. I get very backward and frustrated. Math, I can do it, but it requires ALL my attention and by all I mean I have to dream about it. With this email… I checked my code a thousand times. I know it was right, what I think happened is I was given new terms and conditions code at the last moment and instead of starting from scratch and reinputting tracking ID tags (strings of numbers) I just copy and pasted what I was given and put it into the new file. Since I was doing things out of order, I just, I don’t know- got confused. I can’t believe I missed it. I can’t believe it. I can’t believe I would be so stupid as to miss it. It’s not a tiny mistake, it’s not really forgivable (as I was informed about 12 times today). I just had to say over and over, “there’s no excuse, it’s my fault” and feel terrible all day.
Is it healthy to just live life in front of computer, in a room with no windows, clenching my teeth until a vein in my temple throbs near tears because I am trying to juggle everything I have to do? While I am building one email and site (double those, I do the sites and emails for clubmembers too [when I am not behind]), I am planning the next email and site (double) while I check the new sites and emails. The other teams have two artists and there is only me in our team. If I fall ever so slightly behind there is a line behind me of a dozen other people who end up screwed, but my deadlines are stacked- the email edit goes out at 12, the finished email goes out at 3- but at the same time I am supposed to put in the new website code at 3 so my other coworker can check it. If anyone comes back and says, “here add these new terms and conditions” I have to start all over. When I start over, I am cramped for time because the email edit might go out late which makes the buyers and bosses late… which makes them upset and the other artist likes to write me and tell me I’m late… but if I don’t put in the site (because it’s about that time now), my coworker who needs to put in her modules will have to stay late- but when I try to do both, something ends up compromised and I schedule a sale ad to go live THAT SECOND opposed to two days from now and I do so with a graphic which has a typo in it.
I know work isn’t supposed to be fun, but I thought I might be able to do something fulfilled. I don’t know. Felt like I was doing something which would interest people. Be poor but be doing what I love…
HOW STUPID AM I.
It’s a first job, I know this. I know, I know. I have dues to pay. It’s a good job. It’s all me.
I just feel dead all the time. I don’t even go on lunch breaks and no one ever talks to me. Anywhere. I have absolutely no life now. If I go on about something I just feel like idiot and no one really cares. Kind of like when I ramble on in this journal about nothing. Sometime it might be fun to go on about something I’m excited about and have anyone else be excited about it. At school I would get stressed and tired- but people might, say, wave at me in the hall. Now I just sit and listen. No one comes to say hi. When someone does try to instigate a conversation I screw it up by going on and on about nothing and I can see their faces scrunch trying to figure out when I am going to stop because I am making no sense. I just feel so dead.
I had a friend one who said he didn’t really want an art career because he used art as an escape. I never thought I did, but now that I never draw anymore, never read, barely have time to sort of write- I feel dead. I feel like there’s nothing of me left. Like it’s all depleted. And since I never talk to anyone any more in reallife (save for the pets, the fam and casey-) I just feel like a shadow slipping through doing nothing. I just wanted to do fantastic things… and now I feel like I am being sucked into a trap of mediocrity and I am just going to be another grey slate- one of those people who went to art school but didn’t have the BALLS to do anything afterward.
And what’s more pathetic, since I have no one to tell any of these things to I end up talking to livejournal.
Hot.
I think to myself, “don’t get on the computer when you get home” and I don’t for a while- but in the evening I like to get on for a second because otherwise I will go all day with no outside voices coming in- literally no one talks to me and I miss talking to people. Not saying I want to go out, but I don’t know. Just having … I don’t know. I’m selfish.
I’m so dumb. I’m thankful for my job. It’s a good paycheck and everyone there is really nice and I wish I would quit disappointing them every ten seconds. I honestly don’t try to be an idiot. I can’t even grasp who I am not let alone figure out where the HELL the goddamn tid’s go in version 400 of the same email which was due 4 hours ago. I just wish anyone, people who actually read this slop and people at work could see me when I was on my game. I really can do things. I used to be happy all the time and would make cookies and things because I thought it would be fun for other people. At least I thought I could do other things and have fun and I used to be entertaining- or maybe it is all a nostalgic memory I don’t know. Whatever.
I’m sorry. You know I love you all and, like my favourite friend George Bailey I keep thinking, “It’s a Wonderful Life” I’m just a little short in the vault right now. Know just because I am a depressive person doesn’t mean I don’t appreciate the abstract e-friendships I share, quite frankly, as sad as it sounds they’re really the only halfway honest conversations I have any more.
Oh now I’ve gone and depressed myself. Don’t even dignify this with a comment. I am so selfish and blind I can’t even bear to read this. No one is dead. I’m alive. My friends are too good for me, my life is too good for me, I need to go crawl in the gutter to realize I HAVE IT PRETTY GOOD, so I should just get over my feelings of stress, bite the biscuit and pay my dues until I can move on. Everyone does it and things don’t fall from god’s golden tipped fingers to my lap without a little effort on my part.
Just, ignore this ever happened.
suddenly i was @ 02:13 am
monday, february 7, 2005
i really really need help. my little bishop's wife post has spiraled out of control. first i decided i "needed" a noir film from 1949 which mini george (as a 17 year old!) has a bit part. some searching and i am now awaiting a reply from the noirfilm.com connection. also, i think i NEED a copy of "francis the talking mule" because mini george also has a bit part in that. i found a copy on ebay for 4.99, should i go for it?
in my absolute distress, i found the creator of the canadian young actor site also had an international young actor site, featuring, dude. like every young male actor in the world.
now, i could wonder WHY THE HELL anyone has created a site like this, but i choose not to and am only browsing it for graphic purposes, but look! mark lester and jack wild aka, oliver and THE BEST DODGER EVER, were in another movie together! SCREAM.
look at at hair. mod baby. cackle. it's like oliver twist, 1970 style. really! here's fagin. this is how it is at my work.
i have to see this movie.
research update: it has an average 7 star rating out of 10 at imdb. it's about two 10 year olds who want to get married. i wonder if it's mark and jack? probably not. but 10? HAR. let's see... mark lester would have been... 11 when this movie was made, jack? about 17 i think. he was 15 in "oliver!"
oh. and of course, this movie is impossible to find, LIKE EVERYTHING I WANT TO WATCH.
ok. bedtime.
suddenly i was @ 02:10 am
saturday, february 5, 2005
Well I just finished the first ten pages of my new story. I detest it, like usual. I think this was a mistake. It seems awful. In other news, I think I finally have this "move the story along" thing down.
suddenly i was @ 04:29 pm
friday, february 4, 2005
Today was a strange day at work.I was very excited because I decided this morning I would buy myself a muffin. So I took two dollar bills with me stowed them in my pocket and went to work. When I walked in the door the first thing I noticed was the café’s lights being off.
ME: ANGST.
Were they closed? I wondered. How? Why? They’ve never been closed before.
It was at about this time I noticed the front fountain was also not running.
As I proceeded past the receptionist’s desk, down the hall to my office it became increasingly obvious something was amiss. The hallways were dark, only sporadic fluorescent lights were flickering here and there and people were milling all about aimlessly.
The power? I wondered. But this is a huge building!
I turned into my office and all the lights were on, but I found out, indeed. The power and blown out. My two office mates’ monitors were fried. Of course, my computer worked (ME: drat!), though I had no internet or network connection and couldn’t access anything internal. I was later relieved however when the IT folks, who were going mad, came running about the building telling everyone to turn off their computers because the power had been surging and a few employees and lost harddrives.
The rest of us then kicked up our feet and waited. We all chit chatted and I thought, “This is like how classes were.”
Two hours later, an emergency stand up meeting (a stand up is when all the employees of the company “stand up” from wherever they are and go to this forum meeting).
At the stand up it was announced we were in “mission critical” and if there was some IMPERATIVE job we needed to finish, we could find a functioning computer, otherwise we were all off for the day (though we might all be seeing each other on the weekend) because it was an area outage and the power company said systems wouldn’t be returned until maybe 3 pm.
Then, I kid you not, the speaker steps off from the stool, his foot touches the ground and the power returns.
ARGH.
As a conversation with my coworker went:
HER: I can’t even describe how I feel right now.
ME: Let down, sad, betrayed?
HER: Betrayed. That’s about right.
ME: I’m depressed.
HER: Why, because you’re here?
ME: Pretty much.
We all had that beautiful light of hope in front of us saying, “half day!” Only to have it swiped from our grasps. It was quite the disappointment. Like telling an 11-year-old boy, “Snow day!” Then pushing him out the front door to the school bus saying, “PSYCH.”
Later in the day another coworker walked into our office. She’s my mom’s age, so there’s quite an age difference (the age range of our office is quite young, 20-27 is the median. Everyone tells my 32-year-old coworker she skews the average). Anyhow, she’s older and she is VERY forward about things. Always asking questions, then asking more before you can answer, always right there in your face, doing this, doing that- very nice- but also very high strung. Well. She comes into the office crying, which really scared me. I don’t like seeing anyone cry, especially people older than me. I realize I am a geezer now and should realize others, like me! – still cry, but since I still think of myself as 6 I find it disconcerting when “big peoples” cry. My officemate and I stood up though, when we saw this coworker was holding a wad of tissues to her head and she was BLEEDING. There’s blood trickling down her neck!
Through her tears she says, “I was trying to take a picture outside and I felt and cracked my head open.”
We were trying to tell her to go to the doctor because HER HEAD WAS BLEEDING, but she wouldn’t hear anything of it. She was so upset because when she fell she dropped her 1000 dollar camera she had jus purchased and it shattered.
She was a mess, crying and BLEEDING and all she could go on about was needing to take this picture (some freelance thing). She would go to the doctor, so I got the office camera, loaded it for her and let her go off to get her picture.
Later, when all of the officemate crew had returned from lunch and I had told them the story, my one officemate saw the coworker walk by, so she yelled out, “how’s your head?”
COWORKER: It hurts. I’m going to get stitches.
(Mind you, this is two hours after the fact)
OFFICEMATE: Now? Do you need them?
COWORKER: Oh yeah.
OFFICEMATE: Why didn’t you get them before?
COWORKER: I had to have lunch with my parents.
Whoa.
X-treme.
I told my officemates later, “I draw the line when I draw blood. ‘I can’t work. My head is bleeding. Nope. Sorry. I’m bleeding. I have to go home.’”
The last part of the day I noticed I had missed the paycheck lady. So when I go home I looked up my bank account for my direct deposit because this week was BONUS week. Everyone said the bonus had been taxed up the wazoo (46 percent of it), so I wasn’t sure what it would be.
I wonder if I should say.
Tell me if you think I should. I won’t now, because maybe it’s rude.
BUT HOLY COW. I don’t know if I missed out on taxes or what- because the amount which was in my account was more than I thought my whole bonus was!
It’s more money than I have ever had in my entire life!
So now I am thinking, “Well, there’s my nest egg I’ve been wanting to save up.”
A portion of it will page off the rest of my computer I think- but I don’t know… I told myself if I had heard my bonus right I would splurge on one item. Now I don’t know what I should do. The three “splurge” items I set up for myself were:
1. An ipod. Practical? Not really. I just really want one. The only practical part about it would be when I go to the gym and don’t have to lug this bulky discman and cds around with me.
2. A scanner. Practical? Sure. This would be a good purchase. I could really use one for alls my arts and have always wanted one. My mom can use it too.
3. A mini DV Camera. Practical? Sure. I can transfer my own work ON MY OWN for once instead of borrowing from everyone. This choice, however, is my last least-favored one because I don’t really want to drop so much money…
Before I splurge anything though, I will first pay off what I owe and then I think I will ask my dad if we need money for anything. My I could pay for the internet or something.
ANYHOO. There is a good Lifetime movie on. I can hear the woman screaming, I better see what’s up, yo.
Oh my god- I almost forgot! I start my new script tomorrow! I am so excited. I haven’t finished ANY of my reading for it- but I figure I got to get going and just learn on the fly.
Hmm. How am I going to make a man who has an affair with a girl less than half his age sympathetic?
suddenly i was @ 11:33 pm
tuesday, february 1, 2005
Today sucked. Just sucked. Words cannot describe so I’ll write it up here because I don’t exist any off the computer anymore.
I looked at my time card the other day. Last week I pulled 9.5 hour days. That’s 9.5 hours, nonstop, no lunch, in front of computer. 9.5 hours. Making spam. It’s one thing to spend 9.5 hours doing something you enjoy and love, but nearly 10 hours on something half the world is just going to toss away?
I take that back. I could work on one of my stories for 1500 hours and couldn’t pay a poor man a fortune to take the time to read it.
I feel like an empty waste.
But 10 hours of computer at work. I come home spend another 90 minutes or so dinking around, I’m here now telling you all my angst now because when I tried to explain it to my mom she just told me everyone has hard days, which was not the point of me talking to her. I know other people have hard days. I know lots of people have much, much, much worse days than I do. Some people are dying and I am a selfish git who does not feel fulfilled. The point was those, sometimes you just don’t care. I had a bad day. That was point. But here we are entering hour godknowswhat on the computer, talking to, apparently the only sad outlet I have left so some abstract version of human contact. Since I literally have no social life or anyone to talk to.
Wee!
I told you I don’t exist.
But my face sure burns.
suddenly i was @ 08:14 pm