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Look!
"You have received Nancy Lynn Sackett-Mandler Memorial Scholarship for Screenwriters of $9,500 in support of your work at the American Film Institute Conservatory. This award represents one of the highest honors bestowed upon Fellows by AFI. It recognizes your talent and academic achievement. Specifically this scholarship was given because of your accomplishments over the past year."
That was the beginning of my letter!
OH MY GOD!!
suddenly i was @ 02:04 pm
(no feathers)
saturday, june 24, 2006
Oh my god.There is SUCH trouble in my house right now.
Last night, my sister never came home. She is a huge partier and all this jazz, so she is often out late. Usually she is really on the ball about calling someone though. Even if it’s me to say, “Don’t tell anyone, but I am blah.” Last night, no one heard from her. I woke up on the couch at about 2 AM and at this point I figured she had come home or my parents knew what was going on. It sounds like we’re really lax, but she is 21 now [barely], so to a certain extent she’s an adult.
I went to bed at 4:30 AM still thinking she was in her room or thing were taken care of otherwise.
Then I wake up at 6:45 AM or so to my dad talking into the phone saying, “YOU WERE ARRESTED?”
But, no, no. That’s not the case. No, my sister is in the hospital. The details are foggy at best—she passed out or something at a club, and the people there wouldn’t release her to the care of her friends, they called an ambulance. I just talked on the phone with her, she says she can’t remember anything. That’s all I have, but my parents are furious. My father was about to blow gasket last week during her birthday. She turned 21 and kind of had an all weekend party. Went to the bars the first night, BBQ party the next, clubbing on Sunday. My dad was going around saying if this is what she was going to do, she had to not live at home anymore because he couldn’t take it. Now this. It is so unlike her to not call at all, it’s just weird. My mom got up too and said she was going to kill her. I stood in my parents’ bedroom listening. My dad is so angry he’s not speaking. I know most of you guys haven’t met my father, but he doesn’t get angry. He is always very calm and quiet—when something makes him angry it’s a big deal. My mom, however, has no problem expressing her anger. She was in the closet getting dressed going on and on, “She decides to become a big drinker now after losing 20 pounds? This is what we do as a great big adult 21 year old?”
Needless to say both have left and I just told my sister she better be prepared, because they are seething and she is in for it. I’m not sure I have ever seen my dad so angry. My sister said, “If my kid did this, I would be too. I would hit them in the face… I can’t remember anything!”
Isn’t that scary and weird? I think I am going to go clean my room or something to stay far, far away.
P.S. Cousbian, you are NOT ALLOWED TO BREATHE A WORD of this to your family. It is not releasable material as of right now.
suddenly i was @ 08:28 am
(no feathers)
thursday, june 22, 2006
FIRST REALLY IMPORTANT QUESTION:Omg, please read.
I have to help my team fund raise for our thesis film, “The Life and Death Experiences of Young Beth Byrd.” We have to raise a huge amount of money. We’re sending out brochures and are building a website for donations. IS ANYONE HERE INTERESTED in helping out? Either by donation or do you know people who are interested in the arts and film and would like to help an international team? Any amount is appreciated. If you think you can help or know anyone: mothers, fathers, friends of family, anyone, anyone—and would like a brochure when they are created, will you just comment here and I will make certain enough are printed?
OMG, thanks.
There is much to update with.
ME M,T,W,Th,F,S,Su: I rolled over at 1 pm and went back to sleep.
Seriously.
I woke up this morning because my stomach was cramping. It was awful. I was just rolling about moaning it hurt so much. I medicine and died on the coach for hours which is why—looks at clock, at 4, I am still in my jammies.
Well, my birthday was somewhat of a bust and I was a bit down from it. An apt metaphor for how it felt was I ordered a framed Atlas Moth. It came and in the mail had fallen off its mount and been smashed into dust. That was disappointment. I haven’t had a good fun birthday, since I can’t remember. I never thought a day would be more of a downer than stupid Valentines. The last get-together I had was when I was 16 and now that I am geriatric, that was at least 700,000 years ago. Seriously. Not even my 21st birthday was interesting. This year I forced my family to go to dinner and then I came home and since no one had time to wrap my gifts I was given them in a bag: new underwear.
So, a good way to ring in the year. I was kind of depressed. Next year I am throwing myself a dinner party with people.
I did get a pedicure with my mom and sister and that was fun. I have never had one before and I am sure the girl there thought I was a twit.
ME: Uh…
GIRL: Feet in the water please.
But it ended up being really insanely satisfying. My toenails are pink and then she painted a flower on the big ones and put a little jewel in the middle of the petals! I know, I am losing respect for myself just listening to this, but you don’t understand the joy this has brought into my life. I haven’t worn close toe shoes since and every morning when I wake up I make sure the sparklie is still there.
During the first part of my birthday, the only people I heard from were my old roommate who lives in Hong Kong, my pen pal in Ha Noi and So. Africa. Which was sort of funny. No one in my timezone had remembered yet.
So. Africa SO has topped the friend list at AFI. Most people, I don’t think knew exactly when my birthday was, just in the summer somewhere, but others, COUGH, others I helped move their entire apartment? Yeah.
No.
This has really pissed me off. Call me an egoist, but missing my birthday is a big failure. Especially when you have asked when it is 16,000 times and I have remembered yours, moved your apartment and just finished up spending 60 dollars to expedite the mail you forget to Wales. Not even an email. So. Africa with no internet connection in the OTHER HEMISPHERE managed.
In my extreme down time I have decided I am over being taken advantage of, this is what’s happening with Ad. Next year at AFI is going to be different, I’ll tell you what.
Speaking of So. Africa, little updates for all you all, we’re back to happy-happy emails and that makes me glad. I was telling people I wasn’t sure what the nature of the emails were… but they always end with variations of “P.S. <3!!” I didn’t know if they were like love e-notes, even though we were just talking about “Cars” and buying islands—but one was coming every day and they totally made my day. I think I somehow jinxed it, though, because it looks like nothing is coming today. Usually they are in by 4, but it’s 4:30 now and past midnight in Cape Town. I am trying not to be silly, but I am really sad there was no email. Those are the highlights of my afternoons.
Huge enormous depressed sigh.
Anyway, after the non event birthday day, I decided to take matters into my own hands and have since been doing all of my birthday shopping. I bought a stack of dvds the other day, which I think make up a FINE personality portrait of yours truly.
I got: Dumbo, Ferris Bueller’s Day Off, Rosencrantz and Guildenstern are Dead, Shaun of the Dead, American Graffiti and Being There.
Actually Ferris was free. But yes, if you ever wanted to know who I was—there you go, in a nut shell.
Yesterday I went hunting for pants. I have become a maiden and own NO PANTS. I ended up with… another skirt! Don’t even ask. I went to dinner with my mom and cousin and I wore my new skirt because it made me feel like a fairy. I also wore this shirt my mom bought for me, which is lovely and nice, but fits like a CORSET. I am afraid of suddenly moves lest I bust out of the hook latched all down the front. Not a fat day shirt, that’s for sure.
And that brings us to now. 4:40. I guess I am going to go get out of my jammies now since I feel much better. I guess so much for all the errands I was going to do today.
Sigh, and guys! I am sad I have no emails! Cries!
suddenly i was @ 05:41 pm
(no feathers)
sunday, june 11, 2006
Well here I am in a cheap Hotel somewhere in red rock country using my laptop. This is actually a pretty unique experience and FLIPPING HELL, I just realized I forgot my iPod code to charge in Los Angeles. DAMMIT. Can you get those separate? I see no good coming from not charging for over a month.It’s about 1 AM. I fell asleep in all my clothes at the end of the bed, but I woke up just now and showered to get into my jammies. I have been thinking much these past few days about what happened on Wednesday evening. I am still debating whether or not I should post it out for the world, for much like the text I posted here last… I am almost afraid if I share the experience, it will vanish away into nothingness, like it never happened.
Wednesday was the last movie with So. Africa. X-men. Ha. It was also the evening, he promised over a week ago, “I’ll tell you right before I leave so I can go be embarrassed on another continent.” Referring to, of course, why he got so upset during our viewing of DaVinci Code with Soviet Union.
We went to our movie. Whoa, jesus. It was bad. I felt like such a snob because I literally was crying I was laughing so hard. Not only was the plot confused with about 18 different pointless C and D subplot lines, the characters were chemistry-less andall the dialogue was surface expository.
PROF X: She has a split secret identity I am now going to talk about for 17 minutes because it makes such little sense only a huge long explanation of why it is even in this movie will suffice.
Even Jean’s hair colour was offensive. Eggplant? Since when does she have maroon hair?
Fundamental cutting issues:
Shot A: Day time.
Shot B, not time transistion: Dead of night.
ME: So, which mutant has the power to change the time to night?
All the socio-political undertow, kept completely under the surface, left only for interpretation in the first films was lost as you were banged over the head with obvious war parallels and preaching messages.
BUILD BRIDGES! (Show a Golden Gate restorations, angel flies by).
Everything about it was heinous. It quoted an internet video in the dialogue. “Do you know who I am?”
Whatever. The movie was that. We left and were a bit hungry, so we decided to hit up this little 24 hour diner.
Still the conversation and everything was very nice. We were playing this story game which like to typically do via email. Premise: one person tells a story and the other has to equal it in intensity or out do it. So… e.g. if I told an embarrassing story, he would have to tell one just as or more embarrassing. by the time we left, So. Africa said, “you know more than some of my old girlfriends do, it’s really disturbing.”
Finally we get home. It wasn’t really late, maybe just midnight, maybe… if even. It was early because all my neighbors were still up, so we parked up the street where it was dark and quiet to have our usual car good-bye.
We stood, leaning against his car talking about many things. Still playing the game. So. Africa kept saying he was tapped and had no more embarrassing stories. I said it wasn’t fair because I told a good embarrassing one and he needed to be embarrassed too. So he told me I got two no-rules questions. I could ask him anything I wanted.
ME: Can you tell me a story?
SO AF: That doesn’t count!
ME: Nope! That’s my question.
We laughed and joked, then my eyes light up and I said: “Tell me why you were so angry at the DaVinci Code.”
SO AF: Oh no. No, I wasn’t going to, it’s going to change everything.
ME: I don’t mind. I promise it won’t.
SO AF: I’ll tell a really general version, just to… go over it.
Basically, he said we’ve been friends for a year. That’s it. On the night of our workshop party, when he dropped me off and we talked a good long while, suddenly he had a hope in his heart we could be more. The movies we had planned to see started as what I thought they were: movies. But, after he had his hope, So. Africa made the first viewing into a date. He couldn’t quite figure out, however, if I knew what was going on or if I felt the same. The next movie, when I invited Soviet Union, he suddenly back-pedaled thinking, “Oh whoa, ok. Friends. We’re just friends.” As the movie progressed though, he found himself angrier and angrier, resenting So. Union being there—which made him feel stupid because he was getting angry an resentful at a person for thwarting something which never was.
SO AF: That’s it.
He finished. I scooted along the car to be closer and told him, in the fashion of our story game, “Well I have a confession too.”
I told him everything I have written in this journal. I told him I wasn’t expecting a date and was so caught off guard by it, I panicked. So I invited So. Union to somehow, balance out things, but when I saw how much So. Africa hurt, I wanted to die I felt so terrible.
So. Africa asked why would I panic if I thought it was a date?
I inhaled and told him some of my deepest shames, my complete and utter lack of social skills in this arena. It’s so embarrassing and so shameful for me. He kept saying, “No, I don’t believe it. Just at AFI you’ve done nothing.” I would shake my head and say, “No, never.” The more I talked about it, it’s such a shameful thing for me and I’ve never just confessed the whole extent of the situation (I’m still not even writing it here, no one knows it all) to anyone. The more I went on, I began to cry. Not a loud cry, but tears just fell down my face until finally:
SO AF: Are you crying?
Of course when anyone notices, everything just gets worse. I choked up and tried to hide my face.
SO AF: Oh, come here.
So. Africa put out his arms and I went over and he hugged me. I felt so embarrassed for even crying, I hide my face still and said I was so sorry, I was so embarrassed. So Africa pet my hair and kept saying, “You’re the sweetest person in the whole world. You have nothing to be embarrassed about.” Then he would laugh and say, “I tried to tell you am embarrassing story to make you happy and I made you cry! This is why I left psychology, see? I’m not very good at this.” then after a bit he said, “If I tell you my worst story will you feel better?” I don’t even think I responded, but he told me his most shameful story.
I laughed and wiped my eyes and pulled to the side a bit. We sat, our arms around each other’s backs and I told him my other most shameful story. One I have NEVER told any one before.
Again, we sat. it was so quiet out and very dark. So. Africa was rubbing my arm and we started to translate what each other meant all year long and what the last few days had been. I told him why I didn’t talk at the party to him and he said what he felt when I didn’t talk to him.
SO AF: You were like a little puzzle.
ME: Like the DaVinci Code.
SO AF: Oh, I can’t stand that movie.
ME: Well, all the mystery is gone and now I am very boring.
He told me what he thought about me the very first time I met him.
SO AF: You came over to talk with me when I was untangling wires for a microphone.
He told me what other people thought of me—people like Shades! How people had asked him before if he would ever date me, but he told them he was too old for me.
ME: Oh, Glinda thought we had something going on at the that one party!
SO AF: You’re kidding!
ME: No!
SO AF: So did B.! He came up after and said, “Hey… so are you two…”
ME: We must have been doing something.
SO AF: I know!
The whole while it is still dark and quiet and our arms are still around each other’s backs.
SO AF: Don’t even worry, this time next year you will be having this same conversation next year, everyone loves you.
ME: No I won’t.
SO AF: No, I promise. By next year, you’ll have a boyfriend.
ME: No, I don’t want one.
SO AF: No, I’m sure of it. I won’t be able to email you as much during those times.
ME: Then I really don’t want one, I always want your emails.
I told him that’s why I was so afraid to start talking about any of this, because I was afraid it would change things or he would some day realize what a spazz I am and stop talking to me halfway through next year and I couldn’t bear the thought of not talking to him for an entire half year.
SO AF: You’re not a spazz.
I said I was sorry and didn’t want him ever to be angry or sad and I would give up everything I had and all of AFI just to make sure he was all right.
SO AF: No, no, you’re the one I’m worried about.
ME: I’m not, I want you to be all right.
I said I hoped he wasn’t angry at me.
SO AF: How could I be angry, seriously.
ME: You are the best person in the whole universe.
SO AF: We have to get you to meet some more people.
I told him about Ad. pretend trying to matchmake. I told him.. just everything. We kept just telling truths about everything.
SO AF: Then I would be standing there thinking, “Does she expect me to do anything? Does she know?”
ME; And I was thinking, “Does he want me do anything? Am I crazy?”
SO AF: Wow, at least I know how to write one of these conversations now.
ME: So do my neighbors. Do you think they’ve been listening this whole time?
SO AF: I’m sure.
ME: I’ve never, ever had a conversation like this before.
SO AF: Oh, me neither!
ME: Aren’t we a hopeless pair?
I even told him I wrote down everything in a journal.
ME: This is at least 12 pages.
Anytime I let myself think, I was so emotional. I felt totally exposed, I have never told anyone so many secrets and truths and to be met with only the utmost gentleness and kindness, it was moving. So when the conversation would lull and all was again, dark and quiet, I would lower my eyes and take my one free hand because I wanted to wipe away any more tears which came out before he had to notice.
He would bow his head down there, just enough so his brow would touch mine, just ever, ever so gently and ask if I was still all right. I wouldn’t look back up, but would nod and he would take my hand and lower it away and tell me I should go in to go to bed because I had to wake up in the morning. I told him I would never sleep again after this conversation and he said he wasn’t going to be able to sleep, so I said, “Two more minutes.” And we sat, in our same exact position.
Finally, as it was past four AM at this point, we parted. I gave him a hug and he told me meeting me was the best thing which happened to him all year and he would watch as I made it to my apt. I walked down the way and then I waited for his car to drive by, which it did.
I then text messaged him, “<3” and a few minutes later the reply came: “<3.”
When I got home I was exhausted and was so full of emotion. So. Africa is the kindest, gentlest person I have ever met. Words cannot ever describe how tender that conversation was, everything was soft and a whisper. He is pure goodness. I would give anything for his happiness at all times, because I have never met any one like him. I decided I wanted to thank him for everything, so I set out to write a letter.
I tried to write out exactly how I felt. I couldn’t say, “I absolutely love you” because I say that to everyone so it means nothing special. I tried to pick a word for how I felt and what gratitude I had towards So. Africa, but I couldn’t find any which fit. I did, however, remember that quote, which I post on this livejournal. So I wrote it out in the letter saying, “this is how I feel about you. I will never find the right word for you.” I was crying again at this point, all over the letter and everything. I sealed it up and went to bed.
Over the next two days, I didn’t get to see So. Africa again, but I called him on the phone like he told me he wanted me to do, to make sure I made my drive to Jigglykat’s all right and I talked to him again, right before I left town. I still had my letter and was almost too embarrassed to give it to him at this point. It was so over emotional and I thought it read to much as a declaration of love letter, which it really wasn’t fully. It was a thank you letter of sorts, I don’t know. In the end, however, I decided when you are that tired and emotions are so at the surface, you only tell the truth. So I went to AFI put the letter in his mailbox and sent an email saying, “I highly recommend you check your mailbox.” To which, the reply came: “Oh, hello. I will first thing in the morning. <3.”
And I’ve been on the road ever since.
suddenly i was @ 05:58 pm
(no feathers)
wednesday, june 7, 2006
WEEEE!Today was AWESOME.
Shades, Sunburn and I orchestrated our second hike and this time we ensnared Soviet Union and Glinda to go with us as well.
I zipped along in my little car in the morning to Shades’ house. True to form, he plunked into the car to help me park and the first thin he says is, “I think I put on too much sunscreen.” Sure enough, he was GLISTENING with the stuff. We rolled around and parked then shimmied to his car. We bumped into a neighbor who waved. Shades waved back, but leaned over to whisper to me: “That guy is something of an ongoing problem with me.”
ME: Oh?
SHADES: Well, when I first got here, he started calling me “Paul.” He sees me and says, “Hi, Paul.”
ME: Ooooh.
SHADES: It took me forever to figure out what he was saying but by the time I figured he was talking to me I was too embarrassed to say, “By the way, my name is Shades even though you’ve spent the past two years calling me Paul.” So he just calls me Paul.
Shades also introduced me to the chapstick which has been living in his car for the past few years.
SHADES: If you didn’t have sunblock, you could just use this. It’s been in my car for about 6 years.
From there we were on to Sunburn’s place. He shot from the side of his house holding a billion waters and stumbled into the car saying, “I didn’t lube up yet.”
And we were off to the canyon. Sunburn spent his time admiring Shades’ fishing cap.
SUNBURN: I was having a little hat trying on session in my apartment before this. I have a hat like Shades’, but I didn’t wear it because I would look like a total idiot.
SHADES: Are you saying…?
SUNBURN: No, no, I would totally trade you, I mean, white netting? Both airy and reflects the sun.
(referring to his hat)
We finally reached the canyon where Soviet Union and Glinda were there and waiting. Sunburn of course had to “lube.”
SUNBURN: Wait, I just have to—
SHADES: You’re curbsiding this one?
SNBURN: Yes, I’m curbsiding.
SHADES: Are you putting block underneath your socks?
SUNBURN: If I don’t, I’ll get a little red ring!
HO, guys. I made such fun of writers hiking. I thought we were the weakest breed.
I STAND CORRECTED.
Never before had I seen the directors in action.
Shades really wanted to try “this little side trail” so we started mounting this, well- mountain. We are clambering up and right away Soviet Union starts to suffer and says he has no sunblock on. We writers shrieked in horror and we all stopped and made Glinda dig out her Finnish sunscreen (she’s Finnish, you guys know this, right?) and we stopped and made him put some on.
We climbed on and found a dead-wood tree which was covered with lizards—much to Shades’ delight.
SHADES: I am the lizard whisperer. Karee-karee.
(lizard speak there)
GLINDA: Can someone pull off the tail? I’ve never seen that.
And we pressed on. The hills became steep and the heat was intense.
SHADES: Soviet Union, your foaming at the mouth!
SO. UNION: No, that’s just dry lip.
SUNBURN: No, you’re dehydrating!
ME: Do you have water!
SO. UNION: No…
EVERYONE: SOVIET UNION!
We had to start holding onto rocks to pull ourselves along. Glinda became belligerent with Shades.
GLINDA: Do we have to go up that hill?
SHADES: Um…
GLINDA: Do. We. Have to go up that hill?
SHADES: That one up there?
GLINDA: That one that goes STRAIGHT UP?
SHADES: Um, I don’t think so.
GLINDA: Shades. I’m serious.
SHADES: Maybe.
GLINDA: I KILL YOU.
Meanwhile, we were about to lose Soviet Union, though we lubed and watered him appropriately, he just crawled along.
ME: I thought the writers were bad!
SOVIET UNION: No, seriously guys, I think it was something I ate.
SHADES: What did you eat?
ME: Oysters.
SOVIET UNION: (silence).
ME: Are you serious?!
It’s nearly 100 degrees out, we’re climbing a mountain and Soviet Union is sick off of oysters!
Then he would go along and describe everything he ate and I started to gag with Glinda. We ran around in little circles screaming, “LALALALA” because we were going to be sick if he kept talking.
SOVIET UNION: And then they slipped down my throat and they were grey and oily.
GLINDA AND I: EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!
God it was hot though guys. Made worse by the fact I was wearing a black jacket because I feared being burnt. My jacket? DRENCHED with sweat.
It was foul.
Still is.
Points.
See it on the chair there?
Finally we got down the mountain and hi-fived each other, for we were BOSS. Glinda ended up taking off, but I went out to lunch with MAH BOYZ plus two other guys, another AFI director and his friend, who we met outside the canyon.
The lunch was fabulous. I love my hiking pals.
GIRLS.
Someone needs to marry Shades, stat. I would in a heartbeat, I love him to absolute pieces and it is a crime against humanity he isn’t with anyone.
After the lunch I had a meeting and things, but I guess that isn’t of particular interest. My producer had to run on an errand so Glinda and I were left with his three year old. She emptied out a trash can, grabbed a bat and ball so we could play a game where we hit the ball into the “bucket.”
Afterward, she started to play she was a snake, putting the trash can on her head, so Glinda and I climbed up on the chairs and pretended to be frightened.
I we were standing on the furniture with the toddler wriggling on the ground with the trash on her head, all I could think was; “Producer, please don’t walk into this.”
A cute story: My producer’s daughter “wrote” a letter to her friend. She’s only three, so she can’t really write anything so it was more scribbles and lines. Her mom then, asked what it said so she could translate on the back. The little girl then translated—most of the letter was “I love you” but the last line is now MY LIFE’S MOTTO: “You are not the boss of me, because you are my friend.”
I LOVE THAT KID.
Today we had our thesis presentation. Basically, you go into a room of 20+ faculty, including the dean and they grill you on the problems of your thesis. Some people were hit hard, others it was a breeze—ours wasn’t bad at all. We got to show our complete LURVE of each other when the dean asked, “Have you worked together before?” To Glinda and I and we answered for two of the three projects, yes. Our Producer chimed in and said, “When I first read this script, it had their fingerprints all over it. I knew it was Glinda’s story told with [myname].”
I got off a few one liners and basically we covered the points of concern: basically it’s a huge project and our lead is a child. VERY DIFFICULT.
But everyone loves the script!
AND!
(drum roll)
We got the EXACT shooting date we wanted
AND!
Walk the Line Writer is our mentor and will help us tailor our project all next year.
AWESOME!
I have a meeting with him tomorrow.
After all this this morning, I met up with So. Africa to move Adventure’s boxes. Writing Partner was going to help me, but he left town! So, yes. I had to ask poor, dear So. Africa for help.
We had such fun though, he came over and we sat around and talked a bit about our grades and such then we told each other stories. He never talks about himself to people because he’s hyper conscious. He always says, “oh this is boring” “this is awful” about these stories I couldn’t even imagine!
For example, today he was talking about where he went to school, before college and before AFI. He went to a place which was a Harry Potter English transplant school. I’m not generalizing English culture with that phrase, that is how he described it: with the houses, the uniforms, the prefects and sorting ceremonies.
But! He told me he and his friend were the first non-white students to be enrolled in a private school. He said the public school system the “coloured” people had to go to was very poor education wise—purposefully kept this way by the government who didn’t want them educated; as such, many of the people who went to those schools would drop out or leave because—what was the point?
So. Africa’s parents decided they didn’t want him to go to those schools, but they didn’t want him in the street throwing rocks, so they send him to this Harry Potter place.
He said he was just a little kid so he didn’t notice anything was amiss, but for when they went on field trips on trains, because they were still segregated and he wouldn’t know if he could stand with his class or would have to be sent to another car.
These are the kind of stories he tells, then spends hours apologizing for saying they were boring.
I have NEVER in all my whole life heard such a story outside a history book.
I felt bad A. for making So. Africa help me (we know why I needed help—yes? I couldn’t lift a box on my own, it was too big) and B. my car is TINY. He had to smash into the seat. His knees were pushed right up into the dashboard and the chair wouldn’t go back any more.
I told him I watched a show on tall people and how it said adult men who were taller than 6’ made up less than one percent of the world’s population.
ME: I watched a show on tall people and is said males who are over 6’ tall—
SO AF: Have lower IQs?
ME: Aside from that—make up less than one percent of the world’s population.
SO AF: We’re a dying breed! Like the tyrannosaur.
I asked if his family was tall, he said his father was, even though he was only 6’, his brother (SO: He got all the good genes and is better built) is slightly taller, but not as tall as him and his mother is small.
He said he liked seeing NBA players because:
SO AF: I think, whoa. That man is FREAKISHLY HUGE then I realize, oh. I’m looking him in the eye.
I took him to his car and we tried to plot a time to see xmen or at least say Au Revoir before we scatter.
Tomorrow I am going sailing (SCREAMS) as well as having a thesis meeting, but I am SO SO SO SO SO sad because I. is receiving a huge award and wanted me to be there to watch, but I think I will be out to sea. It breaks my heart though, I am going to try to see him Friday right before I leave.
Anyhow, that’s it from this end.
ANOTHER 60 PAGE ENTRY BROUGHT TO YOU BY AIR. IT’S WORTH BREATHING SOMETIMES.
suddenly i was @ 01:17 am
(no feathers)
sunday, june 4, 2006
I never talked about my hike did I?Pee Ess I love how my last entry now holds the record for most comments ever in this LJ.
Yawn. What a lazy day this is. Last night I had a party to go to. It was quite lovely, my other writing teacher threw it. I think it’s hilarious everyone makes fun of the writers for leaving their lives in holes and communicating only through email, but HELLO. Only the writing faculty have thrown dinner parties.
This one was fun because it was exclusively for the writers and was up in one of those super fancy houses off Los Feliz which look like they fell off the East coast. My teacher, this was for the “Great Screenplay” classes, in which we read scripts and picked them apart, this is how I would describe him: there was a rumor going around he invented the water bed. I don’t know if it’s true, but it makes SUCH PERFECT SENSE, if he did. He did, however, produce “Pumping Iron” which started Arnold S.’s career. His wife directed Pet Sematary.
ANYHOW. It was only for writers, but you could bring a guest so I brought Glinda.
ME: THIS IS MY PET DIRECTOR.
It was funny because she was so nervous of “being the outsider” but then was delighted when Writing Partner showed up and brought London Lass, another director.
I love Writers in social entanglements. The personality of the writer, while varied all across the board, they are just more reserved than say, directors. We were so scared to ring the door bell twice in case it offended. Glinda and London Lass were being driven mad by it. Oh, bee tea double ewe, I think London Lass is actually from Liverpool. Whoops. I just knew she was in London before, but I guess that’s because that’s where she went to school.
I digress,
Once the first batch of us (Bday, R., Writing Partner, London Lass, Glinda and I) were inside, we moved about like a little pack of ducklings, too scared to part company. London Lass and Glinda were laughing at us and I kept saying, “WELCOME TO THE WRITERS’ PARTY.”
It did pick up and all my favourite people came. Our teacher hired “help” so there was a bartender and people serving food and live music! I broke goat cheese with Shades, FINALLY figured out Canada Lass and W-Bird are an item making them the HOTTEST couple of AFI. That’s cute. A. I am SO glad Canada Lad is over his hang up with Canada Lass and has moved on to someone healthy and adjusted (I love Canada Lass, but she has some personal issues) B. I can’t tell you how well matched they are and SO cute. I love W-Bird because she is the other vegetarian, red-head, female writer at AFI and of course, Canada Lad and I are soul brothers. C. It hotness squared! Canada Lad is unbelievably good looking and I think W-Bird is the prettiest girl at AFI. I have been wondering for weeks if they were together, but I thought W-Bird had a serious boyfriend. THAT however, also ENDED weeks ago, as I found out last night. So yes. It’s official. Ladies, Canada Lad is not for the taking anymore, ditto to the gents after W-bird.
I. was there and I was SO HAPPY and pleased for him because he has won this huge award for his script. Usually it goes to a second year, but he beat them all out and now has to go to their graduation to receive it. I am SO SO SO proud I know him. It was so well written.
Oh, I also got to meet Mr. Man’s wife, um. Mrs. Man. She was lovely! She told me all about her little boy reading my script! Saying you would go upstairs and it would be past 9 and he would still be up in bed reading the story. The package was getting so beat up, they had to buy a cover for it and then they put my little drawing on the front. He and his dad talk about it all the time.
Isn’t that amazing? It makes me more happy than just about anything else I have ever done. I want to dedicate the film to him or something.
Also, I was so, so, sad on the inside. I didn’t get to talk to So. Africa once. He was too near Porn Guy. I did talk to him once, but I got so nervous and the music was quite loud where he was. So I ran away again. Glinda made fun of me because when I socially panic I hold my hands together in front of me. Remember Polidori? The drawings I did for I.’s script?
Like that.
It’s embarrassing, but I just want to be really small so no one will touch me and didn’t quite realize I did it.
Anyhow, only after I left the party did I have a chance to say anything to So. Africa. I went up and said goodbye. I stood on a stair and finally could be almost as tall as he was. Did I tell you I found out his height? It’s 6’5” or 6’6” or something. I said good bye and left but then we started text messaging each other and when we both got home we emailed. I can’t decide if this is the cutest writerly thing, or if I, I will shoulder this one, have serious social problems.
The biggest gossip of the night was Porn Guy. He’s back. No one can figure if he appealed and got back in or if, in fact, he was never let go, just called to task. Either way. He’s in and the day of the party, in the class right before he gave a presentation with his one pal (who I car pooled with once, he looks like a serial killer, but is a really nice guy) on STRAW DOGS for any one who hasn’t seen this film, it’s typical Peckinpah über violence with two very controversial rape scenes. Exceedingly disturbing and graphic. Lots of people have problems with this film because it’s pretty misogynist and, well, offensive, like I said. I don’t have a problem with the film. I don’t LIKE the material, but a film is a film and that’s that. Serial Killer gets up there and is very normal and intellectual about his discussion, then he turns over the podium to Porn Guy to talk about the rape sequences. I don’t really want to bore you with the minutia of the lecture, but he’s the new favourite quote: “Women can either fight against rape, or embrace rape.”
I think that about sums it up.
Then they play the clip. It’s awful. A girl gets hit around, he rips off her shirt, she cries when there is penetration then it becomes some weird mental rape because she slightly enjoys it—but sitting there watching it with Porn Guy’s voice in your ear hearing him saying, “embrace the rape” and “she wants a man to ravage her,” – it made me physically ill. R. was the only other female in the room and she was too far away to hold hands with. I was alone in my row, so I could only squirm and feel completely violated. Finally, Serial Killer stops the clip and says, “that’s enough, you get the idea” but Porn Guy goes off wanting to show the other rape. Serial Killer is trying awkwardly to back down from it, but Porn Guy is laughing and bobbing his head, “No, come on, show it” – mind you now at this point ALL the males at AFI know. Shades, Sunburn (who I went on my hike with) kept turning and eyeing me saying, “we see it now” and So. Africa was behind me, saying he was watching to see if I was ok.
Finally R. loses it and says, “It’s not funny, stop laughing.” A heavy silence fell across the room and before Porn Guy could open his mouth to cause further damage, Serial Killer spoke up again to continue the lecture. The whole time the big screen is stuck on a frame of the woman’s crying face. I was just sitting there thinking, “I feel you.”
R. got up and left, but not before I called her name and reached over the rows to touch fingertips and say, “Ah, estrogen.”
It was awful. Just beyond the pale. The amount of anger and disgust I felt, I don’t know if I have known such levels. I honestly don’t know how he is still in school.
THAT was the talk of the evening.
Good party. My teacher told me he thought my Sunset Boulevard presentation was good and told Glinda he thought I was good. INSANE, since I didn’t even think he knew my name.
At the end of the evening he said I couldn’t leave until I danced. HA.
Having mentioned Shades and Sunburn, those were my hiking buddies last week. Never have I met two older 30 year olds. Such little fuddy duddies, I love them to pieces and pieces.
Hiking with writers is the best thing you could ever imagine. Before Sunburn and Shades showed up at my door, I had never met two people more obsessed with sun block in my entire life.
They show up at my door, Sunburn had a ball cap pulled low on his brow and his sunglasses donned and Shades, who I think is incredibly good looking, absolutely striking, he comes in wearing his sweats, his fisher cap and prescription sunglasses they give me the thumbs up and say, “We’re lubed, let’s go.”
Referring to sunblock of course!
The hike was lovely. We tried to talk to lizards and all about peed our pants when we finally saw one. We talked about sunblock. Sunburn would go on and on about everything he just learned on the History Channel: “And Caligula had these leather boats” while Shades would expound on 24, “So I saw the address on the building, I paused the DVD, went to google maps, switched to satellite view and zoomed in until I saw the building, it was real place!” Shades REALLY likes 24. It’s like a 13 year old girl obsessing over Orlando Bloom. I think it’s adorable. I want to buy him things with 24 on it.
We walked under the Hollywood sign. The boys were impressed when I identified a Tiger Swallowtail. We all know those types of butterflies right? I don’t know why they were so amazed!
Tomorrow we have another hike. I am SO EXCITED I am going to explode. We are going to some canyon. I sent out an invite to a ton of people, we’ll see who makes it. Certainly is Shades and Soviet Union.
By the way, Soviet Union asked me to the theatre tonight and I felt so bad I declined. I was so hot and miserable, I couldn’t bear the thought of getting off my arse.
Seriously.
I can’t breathe.
What else? OH. The day of my second accidental date, I had an individual meeting with the Walk the Line writer, it was really good. He basically said he didn’t think I needed the class and for the record he loved this Pat Garret scene I wrote. He circled all these words and said if his son was writing a paper on my scene like he does with Hemmingway, he would circle all the “o” sounds. It was great though because he circled all the specific words I had worked hard on choosing.
I love writing scenes and trying to match your diction to what is going on. If you want a soft, lulling scene you use euphony. I don’t know, when a scene has sexual tension I like to use suggestive words like “rhythmic” and “mount” – I don’t know. I just like how someone noticed.
Anyhow, I told him I was working with Glinda for our thesis and he kept saying, “Oh, she’s good” and told me he remembered our project and it was one of maybe four he was going to brawl about if they didn’t let him mentor it.
YAY.
Later he told Glinda I was a good writer.
DOUBLE YAY.
That’s about it. I was going to talk a bit about my meeting at my Producer’s house, but I’m too lazy.
Also: WAY THE HELL DEPRESSED. No new emails!
suddenly i was @ 02:05 am
(no feathers)