You want an update? You got it! So, obviously the Memorial Day show ended and I lived through it. Not that I really expected anything else. Although when the storm broke out thirty minutes before show time, the crowd that had already gathered on the lawn and gone through the metal detectors had to be evacuated and the capitol police, carrying automatic weapons crowded into our hot as hell trailer, their guns pointing at my toes, I wasn't so sure. Not to mention the squwaking that went on on our headsets but gave me no directions whatsoever about what to do. I wandered around backstage, sat with my mom who had come bearing a questionably worded sign for my brother. I bummed a cigarette from a beefy stage carpenter and tried to look busy. When the show ended I finally had something to do. My job was to escort the wounded veterans who had come to the show up the the Capitol where there was to be a ceremony and reception. I was excited, finally something to do! I could feel as though I was all dressed up for a reason at last. Too bad the veterans already had come with escorts and didn't need my help at all, as it was pretty obvious which direction to go, and I had no idea myself where they'd be going. I did walk up with some people and get to use my radio and call for a golf cart to carry one man up who couldn't make it on his own. I was standing in this crowd of military men, some in fatigues, some in civilian clothes and me in my skirt and wedges. I was standing there and got a message through my radio about the location of the golf carts and loudly replied, "Rodger that!" in my best professional voice. I'm used to radio lingo and the way people'd been talking on the radio had been annoying me all day. It wasn't correct! Anyway, as soon as I said that out loud all the military men looked at me with this confused, amused look, as if to say, did this little girl just use military radio lingo?
After everyone was up in the reception I got to help friendly old Rod with the positioning of the vehicles for quickest exits when people left. I was joking with an older, rather cute chauffeur that I didn't give a fuck where the cars went. I'd let them fight it out. Logistics is not my forte. I was in charge of getting the vans we were using for production into place and so I had to battle with Kenya, who had a complex about the whole thing and spent her days bossing the drivers around via radio. I think they were about to pull a Ceaser on her and gather in the Capitol building to stab her to death with their walkie antenneas. I also got into a fight with Rod, who had been my boss at the Kennedy Center but now was just being a big asshole. I turned out to be right, thank you very much.
After everything was over we all went back to the hotel and had a drink and I crashed in Patty Jovel's room until the morning when I had to go back to the AC less trailer on Memorial Day and enter in badge numbers in the computer. So much fun.
Since then I've just been hanging out at home, writing, painting, making a pair of jeans and visiting friends. I've been babysitting for some adorable little boys. It's been a good month. It feels a lot longer but I wouldn't mind seeing it continue for a while longer. But now I'm wondering when the summer will end, and when I should find a real job for the summer, and what that job may be.
Tuesday, June 12, 2007
Sunday, May 27, 2007
Flights of Wild Imagination
This might strike you as an odd observation or comparison, but bear with me. These flights of imagination are what make me such a excellent writer.
When I was hanging outside the Washington Court Hotel yesterday in the muggy heat of another Washington summer, having a cigarette and watching the valets in their gold corded uniforms greet cars, I was reminded of Africa. Maybe it was the fact that the valets were African, or the heat, but I felt as though I had been transported across the water in a second. Then, I started to create a fantasy story for myself, to fit into the feeling I was having. Here is the story.
I imagined us as journalists and photographers who are antsy and waiting for the real work to begin. But for now we are cooped up in what passes for a luxurious hotel, where our agencies have put us up. Despite the nice surroundings and the guests who are coming and going we are casual, loud and fighting off boredom as though it were the enemy. Inside it is cool and fans whirr, creating a white noise for our conversations to harmonize with. Outside the street is a little hazy with heat and people hurry to get off the street. Something is happening. We know it, that is why we are there, but we don't know exactly what it is. In the basement, the makeshift office is buzzing. Everything is makeshift, thrown together in a moment's notice, torn down as soon as the action moves elsewhere. We know our jobs will be starting soon and we will get to actually work but for now we are forced into relaxation.
Sitting around the hotel, hanging out with young people like myself, falling asleep on couches, not fitting into the slightly worn down posh surroundings. Always waiting; waiting for word to come across the scratchy walkies to move. Moving quickly, sweating but at least we're working.
I've always had an interest in the subculture that is the news industry. Not the newsanchors but the people who actually go out and find the facts for us. The ones who hunt down the contacts and risk life for the adrenaline of getting the picture. Theirs is an exciting world, but when the action stops the boredom sets in. They take over hotels and hole up together, waiting for something to happen. They are like vultures in that way, but intriguing all the same. What is the death wish they seem to carry? And the black jovolity or jaded sense of the world? I have seen a small side of it, studying photojournalism, but I would like to know more. What is it like to sit in that hotel, knowing people are dying and you are going to go into that mess to get the story? Is it cannibalistic; or necessary to let the world know what is going on? And to be able to travel everywhere, not being a tourist, but not quite fitting in wherever you go. It must be hard, but it must be amazing and exciting.
When I was hanging outside the Washington Court Hotel yesterday in the muggy heat of another Washington summer, having a cigarette and watching the valets in their gold corded uniforms greet cars, I was reminded of Africa. Maybe it was the fact that the valets were African, or the heat, but I felt as though I had been transported across the water in a second. Then, I started to create a fantasy story for myself, to fit into the feeling I was having. Here is the story.
I imagined us as journalists and photographers who are antsy and waiting for the real work to begin. But for now we are cooped up in what passes for a luxurious hotel, where our agencies have put us up. Despite the nice surroundings and the guests who are coming and going we are casual, loud and fighting off boredom as though it were the enemy. Inside it is cool and fans whirr, creating a white noise for our conversations to harmonize with. Outside the street is a little hazy with heat and people hurry to get off the street. Something is happening. We know it, that is why we are there, but we don't know exactly what it is. In the basement, the makeshift office is buzzing. Everything is makeshift, thrown together in a moment's notice, torn down as soon as the action moves elsewhere. We know our jobs will be starting soon and we will get to actually work but for now we are forced into relaxation.
Sitting around the hotel, hanging out with young people like myself, falling asleep on couches, not fitting into the slightly worn down posh surroundings. Always waiting; waiting for word to come across the scratchy walkies to move. Moving quickly, sweating but at least we're working.
I've always had an interest in the subculture that is the news industry. Not the newsanchors but the people who actually go out and find the facts for us. The ones who hunt down the contacts and risk life for the adrenaline of getting the picture. Theirs is an exciting world, but when the action stops the boredom sets in. They take over hotels and hole up together, waiting for something to happen. They are like vultures in that way, but intriguing all the same. What is the death wish they seem to carry? And the black jovolity or jaded sense of the world? I have seen a small side of it, studying photojournalism, but I would like to know more. What is it like to sit in that hotel, knowing people are dying and you are going to go into that mess to get the story? Is it cannibalistic; or necessary to let the world know what is going on? And to be able to travel everywhere, not being a tourist, but not quite fitting in wherever you go. It must be hard, but it must be amazing and exciting.
Tuesday, May 22, 2007
TV Fun Times
After my ridiculous day at the Memorial Day Concert production yesterday I swore I'd never accept another tv gig unless some dream job fell into my lap. Let me tell you.
At first I was offered a job working on the Memorial Day Concert and possibly the Fourth of July show too. I thought it was great, I could come home and see all my friends, have a couple of days off in between and make some money. It was good. I told my job I'd be leaving and my roommates I'd be moving out.
A few days before I left New York I got a call from one of the production managers. She asked if I had a car and when I said I didn't she got worried. She said they might have to cut back some of my days if I couldn't get a car. I honestly didn't care. It would give me more time to hang out with my friends and get stuff done. She called back on the day I was coming down, planning to start the following day and told me they had to cut my days back to starting on the 18th. Then it became the 21st. I was a little pissed about that. I could use the money.
Yesterday I get up and make my way downtown. This means I get a ride to the bus stop, take a bus to the metro, ride to the South Capitol stop. Once I got out there I realized I had no idea where I was supposed to be going. I called the number I had and the woman who answered was rude and unhelpful. She gave me a number for the hotel the production office was at. I had to call a second time to get the actual hotel name. I walked across the Capitol lawn and up to the hotel. I was late but there was nothing else I could do. I walk into the production office and introduce myself to Lindsay. She gives me a helpless smile and says, "Did you get my messages?"
"Umm. No."
"I'm so sorry. We actually don't need you."
"What?!"
"Yeah, because you don't have a car we can't use you."
"You've got to be kidding me."
I told her I wished I had known this before I had taken the job but that it wasn't her fault, it was my phone that didn't get the messages. She got me some coffee and an orange and I left. Outside the hotel I was fuming. I was so fed up with the whole feeling of being jerked around by this company that I decided never to do tv work again. Except maybe for Mr. Barber.
I take the subway home, get a ride home from Ashleigh and make myself an omelette. I sit down and start eating. I get a call and who could it be but Rod from the Kennedy Center Honors. He appologizes for the mix up and says they can still use me for credentials. I considered it and decided I could use the money.
"So do you want to come back down?" He asked.
I almost laughed in his face.
Today is Tuesday. I came in this morning a little late. I couldn't give a shit about this stuff. I go into the trailers by the Capitol and sit around for about an hour. Rod and Paul weren't back from their meeting with the police. As soon as they come back I'm told what I need to do and I get my stuff together to take back to the hotel where I'd be working. I ask Paul a question and Paul asks Rod. All of a sudden they're in each other's face, yelling at each other and swearing. At first I thought it was a joke and then I realized they were serious. I don't know what happened or why but Rod was telling Paul to shut the fuck up and Paul was shouting about how he wanted a respectful answer. I got out of there fast.
And now I'm left wondering why I want to be in this industry at all and what is next to come.
At first I was offered a job working on the Memorial Day Concert and possibly the Fourth of July show too. I thought it was great, I could come home and see all my friends, have a couple of days off in between and make some money. It was good. I told my job I'd be leaving and my roommates I'd be moving out.
A few days before I left New York I got a call from one of the production managers. She asked if I had a car and when I said I didn't she got worried. She said they might have to cut back some of my days if I couldn't get a car. I honestly didn't care. It would give me more time to hang out with my friends and get stuff done. She called back on the day I was coming down, planning to start the following day and told me they had to cut my days back to starting on the 18th. Then it became the 21st. I was a little pissed about that. I could use the money.
Yesterday I get up and make my way downtown. This means I get a ride to the bus stop, take a bus to the metro, ride to the South Capitol stop. Once I got out there I realized I had no idea where I was supposed to be going. I called the number I had and the woman who answered was rude and unhelpful. She gave me a number for the hotel the production office was at. I had to call a second time to get the actual hotel name. I walked across the Capitol lawn and up to the hotel. I was late but there was nothing else I could do. I walk into the production office and introduce myself to Lindsay. She gives me a helpless smile and says, "Did you get my messages?"
"Umm. No."
"I'm so sorry. We actually don't need you."
"What?!"
"Yeah, because you don't have a car we can't use you."
"You've got to be kidding me."
I told her I wished I had known this before I had taken the job but that it wasn't her fault, it was my phone that didn't get the messages. She got me some coffee and an orange and I left. Outside the hotel I was fuming. I was so fed up with the whole feeling of being jerked around by this company that I decided never to do tv work again. Except maybe for Mr. Barber.
I take the subway home, get a ride home from Ashleigh and make myself an omelette. I sit down and start eating. I get a call and who could it be but Rod from the Kennedy Center Honors. He appologizes for the mix up and says they can still use me for credentials. I considered it and decided I could use the money.
"So do you want to come back down?" He asked.
I almost laughed in his face.
Today is Tuesday. I came in this morning a little late. I couldn't give a shit about this stuff. I go into the trailers by the Capitol and sit around for about an hour. Rod and Paul weren't back from their meeting with the police. As soon as they come back I'm told what I need to do and I get my stuff together to take back to the hotel where I'd be working. I ask Paul a question and Paul asks Rod. All of a sudden they're in each other's face, yelling at each other and swearing. At first I thought it was a joke and then I realized they were serious. I don't know what happened or why but Rod was telling Paul to shut the fuck up and Paul was shouting about how he wanted a respectful answer. I got out of there fast.
And now I'm left wondering why I want to be in this industry at all and what is next to come.
Friday, May 18, 2007
Introducing...
The Amazing! The one of a kind! You can't see it anywhere else! We here at Silverscreen Pipe Dreams are proud to announce the new addition to our family! The One and Only One Date A Week Blog!
No, but seriously, kids, read all about it as I work my way through the dating scene in NOVA. One boy a week, one date a week, one blog all about it.
No, but seriously, kids, read all about it as I work my way through the dating scene in NOVA. One boy a week, one date a week, one blog all about it.
Thursday, May 17, 2007
You Can't Go Home Again...Because You'll Have to Pay Rent
So I'm back in Reston, hopefully just for the summer, although we'll see. It's a little odd being home but it's funny how quickly you can readapt to a place. New York seems like a fuzzy dream from here, looking out my window into a wall of sunny trees. My house is fully loaded and we're ready for the adventures to start. Hanging out with my friends again seems like nothing changed, but in a good way. I do miss New York but it is kind of nice to be back home where I know things and can take walks down my favorite paths. I went with Julia to the Diner the night after I got back and got coffee with Sofia yesterday. We went to Uno's for Carla's birthday and it was quite fun.
I'm determined that my time here wouldn't be wasted and I will enjoy myself to the fullest extent possible. It will be a great summer to remember. I want to do things that I've been putting off for ages and I want to have fun with my friends. So, one way of doing that is getting some male involvement into the summer. I began realizing that I never date because the guys I like never ask me out and it's only guys I have no interest in dating that do. I pondered this and thought maybe it is just because they're shy, they don't know me or what to say. I'm shy too but I need to make some changes here so I have officially embarked on a trial. It's called Operation Meredyth Asks Out Boys or OnceAWeek or growing some balls, whatever you want to call it. And last night in its inagural run I scored. I chatted up a cute French boy sitting alone at the bar at Uno's. Why would a cute French boy be sitting at a lame bar in Reston, VA you might ask. I asked it too. Imagine my luck. I smiled at him, he smiled at me, I made excuses to go up to the bar, I finally introduced myself. He reminds me a little of the boys in this previous post and that makes me very happy. So, be sure to check out my newest blog for all the details.
I'm determined that my time here wouldn't be wasted and I will enjoy myself to the fullest extent possible. It will be a great summer to remember. I want to do things that I've been putting off for ages and I want to have fun with my friends. So, one way of doing that is getting some male involvement into the summer. I began realizing that I never date because the guys I like never ask me out and it's only guys I have no interest in dating that do. I pondered this and thought maybe it is just because they're shy, they don't know me or what to say. I'm shy too but I need to make some changes here so I have officially embarked on a trial. It's called Operation Meredyth Asks Out Boys or OnceAWeek or growing some balls, whatever you want to call it. And last night in its inagural run I scored. I chatted up a cute French boy sitting alone at the bar at Uno's. Why would a cute French boy be sitting at a lame bar in Reston, VA you might ask. I asked it too. Imagine my luck. I smiled at him, he smiled at me, I made excuses to go up to the bar, I finally introduced myself. He reminds me a little of the boys in this previous post and that makes me very happy. So, be sure to check out my newest blog for all the details.
Thursday, May 03, 2007
List o' Celeb
So, since this is a blog essentially about my life as a cog in the film industry I thought I'd make a little list of all the "famous" people I've seen lately. Some more so than others.
1. Max Weinstein from the Bruce Springsteen band and Conan O'Brien. Came into the restaurant with his wife and daughter. Looks like a lawyer.
2. Christy Turlington carrying her son to daycare, giggling together and looking adorable and perfect.
3. Uma Thurman and a bunch of people in the bar after a screening. She was with some other actor who's name or movies I don't remember. Very pretty and tall. Both of them. She and he were very flirty. Sometimes I feel bad that celebrities get pictures taken of them when they're just being friendly with a guy but when I see this ridiculous PDA I think they're just asking for it. Even if they're in a private restaurant. You're still going to get gossip. Leave it at home. Or just don't care.
4. Sarah Michelle Gellar and Freddie Prinz Jr. She's cute, he looks even more dull in person. Shorter than I expected. Came into eat and when they were leaving some idiot at the bar pretended to think she was somebody he knew and asked Freddie "is that...Meredith?" To which Freddie in an overly protective way said "No. It isn't" and ushered her out the door. Lame.
5. Jimmy Fallon sitting at the bar during midday.
6. James Gandolfini going to the pizza place across the street.
7. Adrien Grenier going up to the door of the grill as I was leaving and then going to Jin Mart where I go every day after work. Of course I followed.
8. Whoopi Goldberg coming down from a Juror's Lunch as I was waiting for the elevator. I smiled at her and she smiled back.
9. Anna Paquin, Mary Stuart Masterson, Thomas Haden Church at the Grill for cocktails with a company that is a Tribeca Film Festival sponsor. Anna did a good job of looking interested in what a bunch of most likely boring businesspeople had to say. Mary looked surprisingly chic. I always imagine her as tomboyish due to the movies I've seen her in (Some Kind of Wonderful, Fried Green Tomatoes, Benny & Joon) but she's really pretty and very cool seeming. Both of them chatted happily together for a while and I wished I could be friends with them. Thomas Haden Church looked a little confused as to why he was there but the open bar didn't seem to disuade him from staying. He looked affable. That word perfectly describes him.
And there, you have it. My list o' celeb. I may or may not be in some pictures taken at the party. If so we will post them and laugh at my dumb expressions.
1. Max Weinstein from the Bruce Springsteen band and Conan O'Brien. Came into the restaurant with his wife and daughter. Looks like a lawyer.
2. Christy Turlington carrying her son to daycare, giggling together and looking adorable and perfect.
3. Uma Thurman and a bunch of people in the bar after a screening. She was with some other actor who's name or movies I don't remember. Very pretty and tall. Both of them. She and he were very flirty. Sometimes I feel bad that celebrities get pictures taken of them when they're just being friendly with a guy but when I see this ridiculous PDA I think they're just asking for it. Even if they're in a private restaurant. You're still going to get gossip. Leave it at home. Or just don't care.
4. Sarah Michelle Gellar and Freddie Prinz Jr. She's cute, he looks even more dull in person. Shorter than I expected. Came into eat and when they were leaving some idiot at the bar pretended to think she was somebody he knew and asked Freddie "is that...Meredith?" To which Freddie in an overly protective way said "No. It isn't" and ushered her out the door. Lame.
5. Jimmy Fallon sitting at the bar during midday.
6. James Gandolfini going to the pizza place across the street.
7. Adrien Grenier going up to the door of the grill as I was leaving and then going to Jin Mart where I go every day after work. Of course I followed.
8. Whoopi Goldberg coming down from a Juror's Lunch as I was waiting for the elevator. I smiled at her and she smiled back.
9. Anna Paquin, Mary Stuart Masterson, Thomas Haden Church at the Grill for cocktails with a company that is a Tribeca Film Festival sponsor. Anna did a good job of looking interested in what a bunch of most likely boring businesspeople had to say. Mary looked surprisingly chic. I always imagine her as tomboyish due to the movies I've seen her in (Some Kind of Wonderful, Fried Green Tomatoes, Benny & Joon) but she's really pretty and very cool seeming. Both of them chatted happily together for a while and I wished I could be friends with them. Thomas Haden Church looked a little confused as to why he was there but the open bar didn't seem to disuade him from staying. He looked affable. That word perfectly describes him.
And there, you have it. My list o' celeb. I may or may not be in some pictures taken at the party. If so we will post them and laugh at my dumb expressions.
Carpe the Fucking Diem
Sorry it's been a while since I've posted. As some anonymous person said I should do I've 'been living my life in the moment.' Sorry, can we stop a minute and ponder the level of bullshit that trite saying is? How do you actually do that? Can anyone actually do that all the time? Because I'm constantly registering the things that go on around me for later. I write, and so all these things get back somehow to what I'm writing. I'm always weighing or observing things so that I can adequately describe them later. That's why I don't live in the moment constantly. And between living in the moment and writing well...let's just say I'd rather write. I'm sorry, I just think that in this day and age a majority of our time is spent on self reflection. Do I look alright? Am I being funny? Is this a good place to stand? Is that person looking in my direction? Am I telling this story well enough?
Even if you're not so self absorbed as to wonder whether the music/clothes/movies/books/comics/furnishings you like are cool enough you're still wondering about other things that make up who you are. And yes, of course you're living in the moment. Everyone is actually living in the moment. But after whatever event that just happened is over, even if it's just strolling through the park you're thinking and categorizing that stroll in the park. "The leaves sure were green today. I wonder if that's what Frost's line "Nature's first green is gold" refers to. I love walking in parks when the trees are first green and the dark bark contrasts against it. And the people in the park today sure were interesting. That busker playing the violin made this moment one you'll look back on, when you no longer live in New York, as a quintessintial New York spring moment. I'll always remember the park this way." See? Even when I'm doing nothing I'm quantifying it afterwards! So, sorry if that's not living in the moment. I've got plenty else to do.
Even if you're not so self absorbed as to wonder whether the music/clothes/movies/books/comics/furnishings you like are cool enough you're still wondering about other things that make up who you are. And yes, of course you're living in the moment. Everyone is actually living in the moment. But after whatever event that just happened is over, even if it's just strolling through the park you're thinking and categorizing that stroll in the park. "The leaves sure were green today. I wonder if that's what Frost's line "Nature's first green is gold" refers to. I love walking in parks when the trees are first green and the dark bark contrasts against it. And the people in the park today sure were interesting. That busker playing the violin made this moment one you'll look back on, when you no longer live in New York, as a quintessintial New York spring moment. I'll always remember the park this way." See? Even when I'm doing nothing I'm quantifying it afterwards! So, sorry if that's not living in the moment. I've got plenty else to do.
Monday, April 09, 2007
23 and counting.
I'm at an odd crossroads in my life. I lament the fact that life isn't happening sooner, faster, now! I want my life to begin now! And I feel like I'm constantly waiting for a moment when it will begin. As though I'll know it when it arrives. And at the same time I'm trying to 'remember' things that happen now for when I'm older and wondering what I did when I was 23. What am I doing? Sitting in my room online, watching TV, wondering why I can't make friends in this city or where the money for going out with them will come from. I honestly feel like more of a loser in this city than I did before. Wow.
I thought when I moved to New York I'd really be doing something, doing something worthy of remembering when I'm 80. I don't know when those times will begin but if they do I'll be right here waiting for them.
Is it better to live in a very cool town without money and friends, for the sake of the coolness, or better to live in a cheap place for the sake of the friends and freedom from 'coolness'?
To be in a city or not to be. That is the question.
I thought when I moved to New York I'd really be doing something, doing something worthy of remembering when I'm 80. I don't know when those times will begin but if they do I'll be right here waiting for them.
Is it better to live in a very cool town without money and friends, for the sake of the coolness, or better to live in a cheap place for the sake of the friends and freedom from 'coolness'?
To be in a city or not to be. That is the question.
Saturday, April 07, 2007
3 A.M. Revolution
Most of you who know me in real life know that, while I grew up in the Washington D.C. area, I spent my formative years in Montreat, NC. These formative years were only from 8-10 but my family still holds the time we spent there dear. An Eden we were forced to leave because my dad was in the technology industry. And while Asheville maybe known for mountains it is not known for technology. My strongest memories of living in Montreat were of 'creek-hopping' and raspberry picking in the summer, finding fairy hiding spots, tramping through snowy woods, playing house in the old maid's quarters of our house- yeah, our house had a maid's quarters. We also had a room dedicated to dress-ups, which were old clothes the former tenants left. They had lived there for 40 years! We found their old love letters under the stairs. We knew all the kids in our neighborhood-which was basically the whole town- because we all rode the bus to school, went to the same church, and played together after school. Montreat was more like a residential community with a college than a town. There are no commercial buildings in it, unless the hotel counts. It's on the edge of another, actual town, Black Mountain, where this art school used to be.
Why do I bring these places up? Other than name-checking them to endear yourself to me, you probably couldn't care less. But last night, when I couldn't fall asleep I started having a 3 a.m. idea- you know, those revolutionary ideas you get when you're exhausted and on the edge of sleep that seem ridiculous and delusional the next morning. Well, this idea wouldn't let me sleep, to the extend that I did a little online research at 4:44 a.m. instead of sleeping. And after doing a little research I also began thinking about the fact that New York is old school hip. It's still just hanging on to the idea people have of what's cool. All that's left now is the bitter dredges. (And some cool people here and there.) But with the internet and other ways of communicating ideas the coolest places don't have to be New York or L.A. anymore. With the advent of the internet New York has lost its cool. So you want to know what was my grand idea and what does it have to do with these places? I'm so glad you asked!
Living in New York for the past four months has made me think about a lot of things, namely how I'm going to afford to live here, find a job, find friends, find a different apartment, what I'm going to do with my life. I really like New York but I feel like the experiment is drawing to a close. I don't think I'm quite prepared for New York yet, but that it was an amazing thing to have thrown myself into. If I had a job I loved here, and more people, I think I could love it for a long time. But I feel very lonely here. And broke. Those are not two things I like much.
My idea was about teaching, and specifically, teaching in a fairly cool, smaller town like Asheville. I checked out craigslist and for the price I'm paying now I could be living here. Wow. That's quite a compelling reason. But to be more practical here are a list of my other reasons to consider moving here for a year to teach before going to grad school.
1. It's cheaper.
2. UNC-Asheville is a good school where I could take grad classes
3. Good experience for future, and for grad school references.
4. I know a lot of people from my childhood in the area
5. Still a cool town for seeing shows, going out. Might even encourage me to go out more. I'm a little agorophobic.
6. Lots of nature, natural beauty
7. If I worked in a depressed area I could do some good.
8. I want to go to a good grad school, in a relatively cool area, I'd only be here for a year so it's not like the end of the world.
But, as with everything, I don't know my own mind. I mean, I do know my own mind, I'd like to rush down there right now and try to set up this fanciful life that has nothing to do with reality. I tend to run away from things when they're not going as I imagined. For those reasons I want to stay in New York, to face it, get used to it and get to better know some of the really cool people I've met here. But I worry that I won't have the money to do that, or the job. Come the end of May my internship at the production company will be ending and I don't know where I'll go next. I've sort of decided that if I have no viable job prospect by the end of June or no other pressing reason to stay I will move back to NoVa for a few months and then down to Asheville, if I can find a teaching job. Turns out you need things like licenses to do that these days!
And now we come to you, dear reader, please give me your opinion about all of this, whether moving to Asheville and teaching is a good career move or a stupid escapist fantasy that won't play out. Or if you have any information about finding a teaching job for a recent college grad. (Except TeachforAmerica. I missed the deadline on that, unfortunately.)
Feel free to leave your comments anynomously. Sometimes I don't listen to my friends and family's advice, even when I know it's coming from a good place. Thanks and Love, Meredyth
Why do I bring these places up? Other than name-checking them to endear yourself to me, you probably couldn't care less. But last night, when I couldn't fall asleep I started having a 3 a.m. idea- you know, those revolutionary ideas you get when you're exhausted and on the edge of sleep that seem ridiculous and delusional the next morning. Well, this idea wouldn't let me sleep, to the extend that I did a little online research at 4:44 a.m. instead of sleeping. And after doing a little research I also began thinking about the fact that New York is old school hip. It's still just hanging on to the idea people have of what's cool. All that's left now is the bitter dredges. (And some cool people here and there.) But with the internet and other ways of communicating ideas the coolest places don't have to be New York or L.A. anymore. With the advent of the internet New York has lost its cool. So you want to know what was my grand idea and what does it have to do with these places? I'm so glad you asked!
Living in New York for the past four months has made me think about a lot of things, namely how I'm going to afford to live here, find a job, find friends, find a different apartment, what I'm going to do with my life. I really like New York but I feel like the experiment is drawing to a close. I don't think I'm quite prepared for New York yet, but that it was an amazing thing to have thrown myself into. If I had a job I loved here, and more people, I think I could love it for a long time. But I feel very lonely here. And broke. Those are not two things I like much.
My idea was about teaching, and specifically, teaching in a fairly cool, smaller town like Asheville. I checked out craigslist and for the price I'm paying now I could be living here. Wow. That's quite a compelling reason. But to be more practical here are a list of my other reasons to consider moving here for a year to teach before going to grad school.
1. It's cheaper.
2. UNC-Asheville is a good school where I could take grad classes
3. Good experience for future, and for grad school references.
4. I know a lot of people from my childhood in the area
5. Still a cool town for seeing shows, going out. Might even encourage me to go out more. I'm a little agorophobic.
6. Lots of nature, natural beauty
7. If I worked in a depressed area I could do some good.
8. I want to go to a good grad school, in a relatively cool area, I'd only be here for a year so it's not like the end of the world.
But, as with everything, I don't know my own mind. I mean, I do know my own mind, I'd like to rush down there right now and try to set up this fanciful life that has nothing to do with reality. I tend to run away from things when they're not going as I imagined. For those reasons I want to stay in New York, to face it, get used to it and get to better know some of the really cool people I've met here. But I worry that I won't have the money to do that, or the job. Come the end of May my internship at the production company will be ending and I don't know where I'll go next. I've sort of decided that if I have no viable job prospect by the end of June or no other pressing reason to stay I will move back to NoVa for a few months and then down to Asheville, if I can find a teaching job. Turns out you need things like licenses to do that these days!
And now we come to you, dear reader, please give me your opinion about all of this, whether moving to Asheville and teaching is a good career move or a stupid escapist fantasy that won't play out. Or if you have any information about finding a teaching job for a recent college grad. (Except TeachforAmerica. I missed the deadline on that, unfortunately.)
Feel free to leave your comments anynomously. Sometimes I don't listen to my friends and family's advice, even when I know it's coming from a good place. Thanks and Love, Meredyth
Wednesday, April 04, 2007
My Moment of Non-Zen
Man. I always knew former U.N. ambassador John Bolton was a loyal Bushie but I had forgotten that to be a loyal Bushie means to run around spouting nonsense and bad democratic theory as though you couldn't hear just how dumb you sounded. maybe President Bush should promote John Bolton. He can be Head Runaround Ass Kisser.
I thought it was pretty amusing how he turned everything Jon Stewart said into an inversion and just kept doing going, even as he got buried deeper and deeper. That's one of the biggest problems with this administration. They don't know how to make a U-turn, reverse or even backpedal. All they can do is keep plowing forward. With any luck they'll keep at it for so long and so hard over the next 21 months that they'll just end up in China. They're the most loyal sons of bitches I know, except maybe the Nazis. And we all know how they turned out. That's right. They got to eat ice cream on top of a mountain of blonde girls holding puppies... I mean...they ended terrorism, of course. I mean, who doesn't want yes men? Especially when you've got a divided country to run?
Monday, April 02, 2007
Practically Perfect In Every Way
The girls in the NY Times article, that can be found by clicking on the above title, seem to have a lot of confidence about where they're going. They may be worrying about which top college they'll get into but they aren't worrying about whether or not they can succeed. I think that's pretty amazing, and also a little intimidating. Amazing because I'm proud that these girls are able to accomplish so much and still seem to be somewhat normal. Intimidating because they are about 7 years younger than me and are already able to discuss Kirkegaard with some intelligence. I haven't even read Kirkegaard yet! They're going to be the ones who get all the jobs around here.
But I'm not really worrying about my future here. I know, it's a first. I'm actually just wondering about my past. And the future of these girls. I wonder what would have happened to me if my parents had pushed me to the same level of achievement these girls are pushed to. Even though I wish my parents had encouraged me more in my path to college I don't think I would have understood the purpose or importance behind it. I would have just been pissed off, and probably would have tried a little harder to sneak out of the house. When I was 17 I wasn't thinking about college at all. Much less at 14. I knew college was somewhere I'd end up, but I was more focused on getting out of high school, and really starting life. My last month of school I had no idea where I was going to be in the fall, but I wasn't really interested. Instead I wandered around the hallways with dreams of Africa floating before me. And I got there. The next summer I spent two weeks in Kenya, after a long lay over of four days in London, all on my own. I might not have read Camus in my AP English class but I did read Sarte as a sophmore, purely because I was interested in it. I took AP European History because I enjoyed it, not because I knew I could pass the test and get college credit (that's what AP Government was for). The reason I bring this up is because I think it's important that we develop a love of learning on its own, not just learning by rote. I don't think the girls profiled in this article fall victim of that, but I think a great many high school students do.
I feel like one of those old people who talk about working hard for money so they could eat, not working hard for money so they could go shopping, but I do sort of worry about these over acheiving girls. I don't worry so much about when they have the freedom to party in college because I didn't do much of that myself. I worry about when they are like me and out of college, wondering where to go next, what to do with their lives. When suddenly you have no prescribed course of action. We're marrying later and later and having families at a later age and I don't want to change that. I think women having careers is important. But I also know that now that I'm faced with the challenge of making it on my own, away from college I'm a little scared. I wonder what it would be like to just have it all planned out, marry, have kids, raise them. I don't see that for me but I can see it's appeal. It's part of the reason why I'm interested in going back to grad school. Another form of structure. Another preparing for and postponing of the day when life must begin.
But I'm not really worrying about my future here. I know, it's a first. I'm actually just wondering about my past. And the future of these girls. I wonder what would have happened to me if my parents had pushed me to the same level of achievement these girls are pushed to. Even though I wish my parents had encouraged me more in my path to college I don't think I would have understood the purpose or importance behind it. I would have just been pissed off, and probably would have tried a little harder to sneak out of the house. When I was 17 I wasn't thinking about college at all. Much less at 14. I knew college was somewhere I'd end up, but I was more focused on getting out of high school, and really starting life. My last month of school I had no idea where I was going to be in the fall, but I wasn't really interested. Instead I wandered around the hallways with dreams of Africa floating before me. And I got there. The next summer I spent two weeks in Kenya, after a long lay over of four days in London, all on my own. I might not have read Camus in my AP English class but I did read Sarte as a sophmore, purely because I was interested in it. I took AP European History because I enjoyed it, not because I knew I could pass the test and get college credit (that's what AP Government was for). The reason I bring this up is because I think it's important that we develop a love of learning on its own, not just learning by rote. I don't think the girls profiled in this article fall victim of that, but I think a great many high school students do.
I feel like one of those old people who talk about working hard for money so they could eat, not working hard for money so they could go shopping, but I do sort of worry about these over acheiving girls. I don't worry so much about when they have the freedom to party in college because I didn't do much of that myself. I worry about when they are like me and out of college, wondering where to go next, what to do with their lives. When suddenly you have no prescribed course of action. We're marrying later and later and having families at a later age and I don't want to change that. I think women having careers is important. But I also know that now that I'm faced with the challenge of making it on my own, away from college I'm a little scared. I wonder what it would be like to just have it all planned out, marry, have kids, raise them. I don't see that for me but I can see it's appeal. It's part of the reason why I'm interested in going back to grad school. Another form of structure. Another preparing for and postponing of the day when life must begin.
Wednesday, March 28, 2007
You Gotta Have Class
Sometimes I wish I were old and my life were laying out before me and I could look back at things. I'm watching "Butch Cassidy and The Sundance Kid" and was reading about Robert Redford and Paul Newman and Joanne Woodward. They are three people I really admire, not just because they're famous and talented actors but because they didn't let that define them. They seem to have led full and interesting lives because they didn't think that all they were worth was as an actor. They found other things that also were important to them and let that lead their lives. But my guess is that the money they earned from the movies gave tthem the capital to do that. Man, what can I do to get some capital? And why the hell can't I stay on course? I was supposed to be talking about how much I liked those three but now all I can think about is if I could make it as an actor. Maybe I'm charasmatic enough to let things like looks not matter. Or maybe I'm secretly quite talented. Probably not. Or at least not enough for movie standards.
And then I think about writers I admire and the young generation like Jonathan Safran Foer and the older generation like Joan Didion and wonder if maybe I'm a good enough writer to at least get a book published. And then I hate myself for wanted to sell my passions for cold hard cash. But that cash doesn't seem so cold or hard when I could use it to keep me warm and have a nice place to live.
Then I just think about how much I like Joanne Woodward in "The Long Hot Summer" and I wonder if maybe I could a classy dame like her when I'm older. That's what I'm hoping for. Money or not I want to be a classy old lady who doesn't give a shit but is also compassionate, intelligent and kind. Maybe I'm projecting. I don't care. That's what role models are for after all.
And then I think about writers I admire and the young generation like Jonathan Safran Foer and the older generation like Joan Didion and wonder if maybe I'm a good enough writer to at least get a book published. And then I hate myself for wanted to sell my passions for cold hard cash. But that cash doesn't seem so cold or hard when I could use it to keep me warm and have a nice place to live.
Then I just think about how much I like Joanne Woodward in "The Long Hot Summer" and I wonder if maybe I could a classy dame like her when I'm older. That's what I'm hoping for. Money or not I want to be a classy old lady who doesn't give a shit but is also compassionate, intelligent and kind. Maybe I'm projecting. I don't care. That's what role models are for after all.
Lost New York
I've loved New York since before I realized it was a place to love. When I was 5 I was watching Sesame Street and I asked my parents if we could move there. They, thinking I would forget about such an outlandish idea immediately agreed and I was so excited. Soon I too would be sitting on those steps having conversations with furry animals and adults who were only there to educate and encourage. Maybe I could even get Oscar to be friendlier. Or I could find out exactly how he lived in such a confined space. Was the garbage can just an entryway and his real home was underground? Or was it like Mary Poppins' carpet bag? I would be in the know. Obviously I cared very much about the community aspect of Sesame Street, and I can only conclude that my five year old self understood that Sesame Street was a microcosym of a real New York street where all sorts of people from different walks of life passed by. Obviously.
Anyway, as you might suspect the whole move didn't quite work out. I blame the fact that I had younger siblings for somehow influencing my parents in their decision not to move into a city apartment, but I've always been a little disappointed that I didn't grow up in the city. Of course lots of people will cite statistics showing that a kid growing up in the city is exposed to all sorts of risks and bad influences, but when I was fifteen and reading 'The Basketball Diaries' or 'Frannie and Zooey' I felt differently. Not that I wanted to become a drug addict or anything, but I wanted to escape the boredom of a small town and the placidity of that life.
Now that I am here I still wish I could be experiencing New York. But, as usual, I'm living in the past. I wish I could experience the New York of yesteryear. I want to know the world of the avant garde poets and playwrights in Greenwich Village, the excitement of social change in the Lower East Side and the immigrants who made this country. I want to know the diners and coffeeshops of New York during World War II and the air of glamour during the fifties. The radicalism of the liberal 60s a and the party scene of the 70s. I wish I could really know what it would be like to see New York through all those times. Through the good years and the bad, the transitions of the neighborhoods and watch the kids of immigrants grow up.
Lately a new era has sprung into my mind as something to have seen in New York. I never really considered it before but it definitely has had an influence on how I perceived New York as well. The Eighties. Ahhh. Was there ever such a strange decade as that? I wish I could have seen the East Village in all its day glo glory. To meet the young musicians, filmmakers and artists that came to its streets dreaming of fame, beauty and freedom. To hear the music of Arthur Russell in the early dawn after an all night party and to feel the rush of punk music at CBGB. Or watch the rise of Jean-Michel Basquiat and an unusual form of music called hip hop. And can anyone forget the fashion? It seems to me that the clothes were just a joyful embrace of the ridiculous. None of this hipster pretention. It was all pretty crazy. My perception of what made the East Village and the Lower East Side so cool at this time was that a lot of people who were the social outcasts of their hometowns moved to New York to be with others like them, and the excitement of finding likeminded people spilled through. I know a lot of tragedy has since ended some of the exuberance of this decade. AIDS and drugs made the world look bleak and garish in the harsh light of reality. But at the same time, the pictures I see in the books I've been absorbed by at the bookstore make me wish I could have been a part of that crazy, free for all scene. Where it was all about the aesthetic and the fun. New York these days seems watered down in comparison to the life of the party it was then. Too many kids pouring in from all over trying to get a taste of the big city and all it has to offer. I'm one of them. But I wish that just for a little longer, just for my sake, it could have remained the city it was then.
Anyway, as you might suspect the whole move didn't quite work out. I blame the fact that I had younger siblings for somehow influencing my parents in their decision not to move into a city apartment, but I've always been a little disappointed that I didn't grow up in the city. Of course lots of people will cite statistics showing that a kid growing up in the city is exposed to all sorts of risks and bad influences, but when I was fifteen and reading 'The Basketball Diaries' or 'Frannie and Zooey' I felt differently. Not that I wanted to become a drug addict or anything, but I wanted to escape the boredom of a small town and the placidity of that life.
Now that I am here I still wish I could be experiencing New York. But, as usual, I'm living in the past. I wish I could experience the New York of yesteryear. I want to know the world of the avant garde poets and playwrights in Greenwich Village, the excitement of social change in the Lower East Side and the immigrants who made this country. I want to know the diners and coffeeshops of New York during World War II and the air of glamour during the fifties. The radicalism of the liberal 60s a and the party scene of the 70s. I wish I could really know what it would be like to see New York through all those times. Through the good years and the bad, the transitions of the neighborhoods and watch the kids of immigrants grow up.
Lately a new era has sprung into my mind as something to have seen in New York. I never really considered it before but it definitely has had an influence on how I perceived New York as well. The Eighties. Ahhh. Was there ever such a strange decade as that? I wish I could have seen the East Village in all its day glo glory. To meet the young musicians, filmmakers and artists that came to its streets dreaming of fame, beauty and freedom. To hear the music of Arthur Russell in the early dawn after an all night party and to feel the rush of punk music at CBGB. Or watch the rise of Jean-Michel Basquiat and an unusual form of music called hip hop. And can anyone forget the fashion? It seems to me that the clothes were just a joyful embrace of the ridiculous. None of this hipster pretention. It was all pretty crazy. My perception of what made the East Village and the Lower East Side so cool at this time was that a lot of people who were the social outcasts of their hometowns moved to New York to be with others like them, and the excitement of finding likeminded people spilled through. I know a lot of tragedy has since ended some of the exuberance of this decade. AIDS and drugs made the world look bleak and garish in the harsh light of reality. But at the same time, the pictures I see in the books I've been absorbed by at the bookstore make me wish I could have been a part of that crazy, free for all scene. Where it was all about the aesthetic and the fun. New York these days seems watered down in comparison to the life of the party it was then. Too many kids pouring in from all over trying to get a taste of the big city and all it has to offer. I'm one of them. But I wish that just for a little longer, just for my sake, it could have remained the city it was then.
Sunday, March 25, 2007
Homesickness is a disease.
My sister and her best friend came into town for a vacation that totaled about 36 hours. In that span we took a crazy trip from LaGuardia in a cab, shopped at H&M, hung out in the East Village, made friends with my local cute coffee providers and movie renters and made a general mess of my room. We spent an inordinate amount of time lying in my bed and being silly and now I miss them more than words can express. It almost makes me want to give up on this crazy thing called New York and revert back to simpler times. I do like it here but nothing can replace the simple joy I find in getting lost in Queens with my sister because we can't figure out the bus system/are too poor to afford the bus so we decide to walk from LaGuardia, over the pedestrian bridge and to the subway. A beautiful day, oddities in Queens and a couple of cigarettes are all we need to have a strange bizarre time together. I wish she were here with me. This whole town would seem small and we would be unstoppable! I can't write about this anymore. I risk crying at the coffeeshop and embarassing myself in front of the cute boy the girls decided I should date since they both have boyfriends and don't live here. Not a good way to begin the relationship.
Wednesday, March 21, 2007
The ONLY way to see movies
Tonight I forayed into the wonderful world of movie premieres. It really is the only way to enjoy a movie. If you have the means I highly recommend it.
My roommate's girlfriend had the tickets and couldn't go so I invited my new friend Lynne to come with me. It was the movie Reign Over Me with Adam Sandler, Don Cheadle, Liv Tyler, Jada Pinkett-Smith and Ryan from 'The Office'.
When Lynne and I were walking to join the line of other lucky ticket holders we were stopped right in front of this blakc SUV and out climbs Liv Tyler in the midst of the flashing paparazzi lights. We continued on after she had been ushered past and joined a long line of young college aged people like ourselves wondering how we had gotten there. We were given green slips of paper with numbers on it in exchange for the ticket I brought. I was worried that we would be kicked out because we weren't "officially" invited or anything and it said they'd be checking ID and reservations but neither happened. It makes me want to sneak my way into some of the events my boss gets invited to. After waiting in the cold for about 50 minutes Lynne and I were given tickets in exchange for our green pieces of paper and told to go towards the theatre. And then we were told to join some other line, and then finally we just cut with all the other people who were told to enter the theatre. As we made our way down to our seats we passed by Liv talking to some man, looking utterly gorgeous and serious and little girlish even though she's a mature, grown woman. There's just something little girl innocent about her. It's adorable.
Lynne and I were seated in the front, great seats really, not too far from the stars. We tried to stargaze without straining our necks or looking like the other audience members, who weren't shy about trying to get a better look at people. I saw Will Smith and Lynne saw the back of his head. I saw Tim Robbins but there was no Susan in sight and I think I saw that dumb Howie Mandel looking like just another douche. Maybe Steve Guttenberg. But I don't know. I'm just glad I saw Liv.
Anyway, the moral of this anecdote is: Movie Premieres, while a great and free way to see a movie are not nearly as cool as they might seem. especially if you're low on the totem pole. Then you're just going to get the run around. Nobody gives a shit about you. Understandable I guess but still kind of sad in this day and age.
My roommate's girlfriend had the tickets and couldn't go so I invited my new friend Lynne to come with me. It was the movie Reign Over Me with Adam Sandler, Don Cheadle, Liv Tyler, Jada Pinkett-Smith and Ryan from 'The Office'.
When Lynne and I were walking to join the line of other lucky ticket holders we were stopped right in front of this blakc SUV and out climbs Liv Tyler in the midst of the flashing paparazzi lights. We continued on after she had been ushered past and joined a long line of young college aged people like ourselves wondering how we had gotten there. We were given green slips of paper with numbers on it in exchange for the ticket I brought. I was worried that we would be kicked out because we weren't "officially" invited or anything and it said they'd be checking ID and reservations but neither happened. It makes me want to sneak my way into some of the events my boss gets invited to. After waiting in the cold for about 50 minutes Lynne and I were given tickets in exchange for our green pieces of paper and told to go towards the theatre. And then we were told to join some other line, and then finally we just cut with all the other people who were told to enter the theatre. As we made our way down to our seats we passed by Liv talking to some man, looking utterly gorgeous and serious and little girlish even though she's a mature, grown woman. There's just something little girl innocent about her. It's adorable.
Lynne and I were seated in the front, great seats really, not too far from the stars. We tried to stargaze without straining our necks or looking like the other audience members, who weren't shy about trying to get a better look at people. I saw Will Smith and Lynne saw the back of his head. I saw Tim Robbins but there was no Susan in sight and I think I saw that dumb Howie Mandel looking like just another douche. Maybe Steve Guttenberg. But I don't know. I'm just glad I saw Liv.
Anyway, the moral of this anecdote is: Movie Premieres, while a great and free way to see a movie are not nearly as cool as they might seem. especially if you're low on the totem pole. Then you're just going to get the run around. Nobody gives a shit about you. Understandable I guess but still kind of sad in this day and age.
Sunday, March 18, 2007
two fun things to do
These are my two newest favorite websites. Ze Frank and Smith Magazine. Check them out!
Friday, March 09, 2007
The Chinese Really Know How to Rub It In
I was reading the BBC and came across this article. Apparently some rat poison manufacturer wanted to name its product after a Chinese official indicted (or whatever the Chinese do to you) for bribery. Because he was bad for society they wanted to name something else bad for society after him. So you'll be all like, "Yo! Hand me that Zheng! I've got some rats to kill." And then stop and remember that bad official who also tried to cause destruction. Can you imagine if we did that here in the United States? Instead of stadiums named after people or companies we'd have sub-machine guns named MCI/WorldCom. Or kitchen cleaners named Scooter Libby. It's tagline could go something like this: 'For when you don't care how the mess gets cleaned up, you just want it taken care of, reach for Scooter Libby." It'd be a crazy world.
Tuesday, March 06, 2007
comedy club cocktail waitress
I started my first day at the comedy club last night and finished it in the wee hours of this morning. I got home at three a.m. after having ridden a bus five hours from D.C. to NYC. From Chinatown I went directly to work and had to bring my bags along with me. I didn't have a minute to spare, in fact I was late. I watched the other servers for a few minutes, looked over the menu, was given a quick tour and then thrown overboard on my own. I had the smaller room for two shows and if you ever want to learn something quickly, I recommend just being thrown to the sharks. Cause you learn pretty quickly. Let me tell you. (Tell me what? I always wondered.)
I was exhausted by the time I left and I had to be at my internship in six hours. I dozed a little but mostly I channelled stand up comedy. After about seven shows I have almost all of their routine memorized. There's about eight comics that perfom a night and they do back to back shows. We have shows running simultaneously in two rooms and sometimes they'll get off stage in one room and about ten minutes later they'll be on stage in the other room. It's amazing to watch them do this, but also fairly repetitive. Some are pretty good at making it seem almost all spontaneous and stuff but even that is pruned and changed around but basically the same. I can tell you all about Xycine's husband and his curious pronunciation of 'guppies' because he is from Amsterdam and apparently 'all the children had herpes' and how he went to Morrocco on his honeymoon and was always checking his cell phone for BBC updates because he was a gay, Jewish American in a Muslim coountry. Or James' joke about having a white girlfriend with a black ass--no she doesn't have a big one. It's flat. It's just the color black. Or....well it's already kinda old.
I don't know if this job was such a good idea. I'm not really one to force people to have a two drink minimum or interrupt them while they're listening to a comdiean. And that all the waitresses are going to be the type of girls who used to do theatre and might possibly have moved her so they can be actresses or something. They were friendly and everything. I just don't imagine that we'll be best friends. They were loud and I was shy. The bar manager I think secretly wishes he were up on stage with the comedians because he's always trying to tell these jokes that everybody ignores. Things he thinks are funny but really are just sad and pathetic. Like when he told me alcohol is his friend when no one else wants to be. See, coming from the right person that could be funny. Tired and used but funny. From him it's just sad and a little weird.
I doubt if anyone here is going to be the next Seinfeld but it is definitely interesting to learn what this world is like.
I don't know how long I'm going to work here. I have a couple of other jobs I'm going to check out. One is the Tribeca Grill, which is right under the production office. It's quite nice and I'm going to try really really hard to make a good impression on the manager so he'll hire me as a hostess.
I was exhausted by the time I left and I had to be at my internship in six hours. I dozed a little but mostly I channelled stand up comedy. After about seven shows I have almost all of their routine memorized. There's about eight comics that perfom a night and they do back to back shows. We have shows running simultaneously in two rooms and sometimes they'll get off stage in one room and about ten minutes later they'll be on stage in the other room. It's amazing to watch them do this, but also fairly repetitive. Some are pretty good at making it seem almost all spontaneous and stuff but even that is pruned and changed around but basically the same. I can tell you all about Xycine's husband and his curious pronunciation of 'guppies' because he is from Amsterdam and apparently 'all the children had herpes' and how he went to Morrocco on his honeymoon and was always checking his cell phone for BBC updates because he was a gay, Jewish American in a Muslim coountry. Or James' joke about having a white girlfriend with a black ass--no she doesn't have a big one. It's flat. It's just the color black. Or....well it's already kinda old.
I don't know if this job was such a good idea. I'm not really one to force people to have a two drink minimum or interrupt them while they're listening to a comdiean. And that all the waitresses are going to be the type of girls who used to do theatre and might possibly have moved her so they can be actresses or something. They were friendly and everything. I just don't imagine that we'll be best friends. They were loud and I was shy. The bar manager I think secretly wishes he were up on stage with the comedians because he's always trying to tell these jokes that everybody ignores. Things he thinks are funny but really are just sad and pathetic. Like when he told me alcohol is his friend when no one else wants to be. See, coming from the right person that could be funny. Tired and used but funny. From him it's just sad and a little weird.
I doubt if anyone here is going to be the next Seinfeld but it is definitely interesting to learn what this world is like.
I don't know how long I'm going to work here. I have a couple of other jobs I'm going to check out. One is the Tribeca Grill, which is right under the production office. It's quite nice and I'm going to try really really hard to make a good impression on the manager so he'll hire me as a hostess.
Thursday, March 01, 2007
Internship a Success
Did you ever have a special place to go when things seemed rough as a kid? Mine was a little corner in my parents' closet when we lived all lived in an apartment. I had my notebooks set up and could spend hours sitting under the hanging pants and skirts, writing and escaping my younger brother and sisters. It was a relief to crawl under there and get away from it all. That was like a safe place, where the realities didn't matter.
Now that I've grown older my need for such places has lessened, but since moving to New York, and especially after I moved into my apartment in Brooklyn, I've needed a place to get away from it all. I like my roommates but the actual apartment makes me desperate to get out. It's dirty and dusty and cluttered and smells of cats. I like cats, well, I did. I like these cats too, it's just a little much for me. All of it is. I never realized how much I need clean, organized spaces. I thought I could put all that aside in order to have a cheap, moderately cool place to live but I can't. Every morning when I come down for a cup of tea I fantasize about being elsewhere. And now that I've started my internship I've found that place. That safe place where things go according to a system, dishes are clean, the refridgerator is neat and it doesn't smell of cats. People are dressed well and friendly. Celebrities drop by (sort of. Kate Winslet, my Kate, was here for a reading but I didn't get to see her.) and everyone is efficient but easy going. Making a cup of tea in the morning I breathe a sigh of relief. I would stay here all day every day, running errands and getting coffee forever if they'd let me. As it is I'm only here two days a week. I hope someday the rest of my life fits as well as this aspect of it. I can't imagine things going that smoothly but I can hope. It is my version of the American Dream.
Now that I've grown older my need for such places has lessened, but since moving to New York, and especially after I moved into my apartment in Brooklyn, I've needed a place to get away from it all. I like my roommates but the actual apartment makes me desperate to get out. It's dirty and dusty and cluttered and smells of cats. I like cats, well, I did. I like these cats too, it's just a little much for me. All of it is. I never realized how much I need clean, organized spaces. I thought I could put all that aside in order to have a cheap, moderately cool place to live but I can't. Every morning when I come down for a cup of tea I fantasize about being elsewhere. And now that I've started my internship I've found that place. That safe place where things go according to a system, dishes are clean, the refridgerator is neat and it doesn't smell of cats. People are dressed well and friendly. Celebrities drop by (sort of. Kate Winslet, my Kate, was here for a reading but I didn't get to see her.) and everyone is efficient but easy going. Making a cup of tea in the morning I breathe a sigh of relief. I would stay here all day every day, running errands and getting coffee forever if they'd let me. As it is I'm only here two days a week. I hope someday the rest of my life fits as well as this aspect of it. I can't imagine things going that smoothly but I can hope. It is my version of the American Dream.
"Let's Face It, A Bit of A Crush, Actually"
I've never cared that much for the French. Not that I have lots of experiences with them, they've just never really crossed my mind as a civilization to give much thought about. Perhaps it's my aversion to anything popular but I've never cared that much about going to Paris either. The whole romantic aspect of it and the fact that so many women seem to think it's this magical dream land makes me not care for it much. Not that I'd turn down a trip. I've just never daydreamed about it, except maybe as a European escape. Especially when I think about all the writers who escaped to it and some images I've been shown of it. I'm sure it is a place I'd love, I just haven't given it an opportunity yet. But if they keep turning out young actors like Mr. Gaspard Ulliel above and Mr. Louis Garrel below:
I should plan a trip there immediately. With dimples like Gaspard's, which are so odd as to be incredibly charming, and give the impression that they are only seen when he is shyly smiling, or quite happy; and the cigarette smoking skills of Louis, not to mention their acting abilities in two of my favorite French films, these boys are hope enough for a country that already has 286 kinds of cheese going for it.
Sure, the English boys are cute, and the Swedish boys are pretty, but I wish they all could be French boys...
Monday, February 26, 2007
Oscar Time
Sometimes, okay, really just when Oscar night rolls around, I wonder what it would like to be there. All shiny and done up for that special night, looking as though everything in your life was perfect, for just about four hours, and then going to those parties, where the newly minted celebrities or the old gaurd celebrities show off their shiny new accessories. And then I think to myself, just work a little harder at that screenplay, or why don't you give acting another shot? Just because last time you sucked doesn't mean things will be the same. You've grown up a lot since then, felt new things, become more confident in yourself. That means a lot. Or, keep working hard at that internship, climb that ladder and you'll get there, you might not be the center of attention or questioned about your dress on the red carpet but you'll still be there. Who cares if you're old now and this is a place that celebrates youth? At least you were there!
Yesterday I went to church for the first time in a year. I sat through the sermon and thought about how we store up earthly goods that mean nothing and that the real reward is doing things for others and helping others. Even if you don't believe that doing these things will mean you have treasures stored up in heaven, like the Bible says, you probably understand the truth in the statement. It seems as though this sermon reinforces the thoughts I've had about going back to school and becoming an educator. It would mean I was helping others with my life's work. Pretty noble of me. I'm sure I'd enjoy it and find a lot of fulfillment in it. And then, I came home and watched the Oscars with my roommates later that evening. It was a good Oscars, nothing too exciting but not painfully boring to watch. Ellen was funny and the interpretive dances, thankfully, short. Moves that I thought were good won and the actors and actresses I liked won. Except for poor Peter O'Toole. And Marty won! Finally!
Anyway, as I watch the Oscars a strange feeling of longing comes over me. I'm dissatisfied with everything around me and I want only what I think will be prettier, more stylish, or cooler. It's not a pleasant feeling, but still quite powerful.
So it makes me wonder, is the Oscars almost as bad as the Miss America pagents? Does it make little girls (and boys) want things they can't have? Or is it really just a big scholarship program that helps those who have the goods go places they wouldn't on their own? Does it give them something to strive for, or us something to be jealous of? And it is all so superficial as well, but come on, when you see those girls up there in their ballgowns, don't you sort of wish you were up there, being admired as well? And when you see all those people in the audience don't you wish you were part of it? Just a little?
I know this is mostly daydreaming for some, but for me it feels like a goal. I mean, this blog isn't called Silver Screen Pipe Dreams for nothing. Just like some little girls grew up watching the Miss America pagents year after year, dreaming of being up there, copying the waves and the smiles, i grew up watching the Oscars, dreaming of what I would say, if I would cry or give a powerful. conscientious speech, what I would do when my name was called. Even after I stopped thinking in terms of Best Actress or Supporting Actress, I had my heart set on Best Screenplay or Adapted Screenplay. I was certain I could do it. And now, as I consider whether I'd rather be a professor somewhere and give up these pipe dreams and move on, I see these people who've been able to do it and wonder if I could too. And I also remember the passion of that younger girl and wonder if I'm becoming too adult to follow my dreams or if those dreams really were childhood and have nothing to do with what I should actually be. How do you know when those dreams from childhood are worn out and need to be thrown out, or when they're where your future lies?
Monday, February 19, 2007
Blueprints and Refried Movies
So Blogger has been asking me to switch my blog over to their new, improved version for some time now and I finally did because it was the last chance I'd have to do it. And once I had I found that I had about 16 comments waiting to be aproved. There was a little icon letting me know. I had forgotten I set it up so that comments have to be approved. And all this time I thought you people didn't care but you like me! You really like me! Or...well...at least you don't hate me. So sorry to all of you that I sent those nasty messages to. It was my own fault. Just like most of my other problems.
I started at my internship for a very cool production company in the city. I don't know if I should tell you the name...well alright. It's Tribeca Productions. I know I promised you all I'd give you the inside scoop on what goes on behind the silver screen but right now I'm going to have to disappoint you because it's all so damn cool. It's a great building. I could work in an office forever if it's as nicely designed and friendly as this one. Everyone I've met is fairly young and well dressed but not in a pretentious way. They seem very friendly. My first day I had to go to Magnolia Bakery
to pick up so cupcakes for a gift. MMMMMM. It's goood. Maybe not the best in the world or anything but still good and sugary.
I got to read the script for the movie we're going into production on in March. It's pretty good. I liked it alright. The strange thing about reading scripts though is that not everything is given to the reader. I'm used to reading fiction and in fiction most everything is described for you. You generally understand the motive of the person, even if you don't know what their tea tastes like as they sip it and pulverize their assistant. In movies too, you are given most of the information. You can read the actors' faces and get an idea of where they're coming from. Or their clothes and understand what this character is supposed to be. Reading a script is more like reading a blueprint. You can look at all the outlines and get an idea for what the finished product will be but you aren't sure what color they'll paint the walls or where they'll hang the pictures. And you start to think of it as a fairly blank, bland building and forget about things like interior design and personal choices. You need to think of it like a blueprint but when you're used to looking at the finished product it's hard to readjust.
So, I was reading the script and not knowing who would play what role or what that actor would do with a certain line and it is very hard to get an idea of what is good in terms of scripts or not. I don't really know what producers look for when they read a script trying to decide whether or not to make it into a movie. If I had to do that right now I wouldn't have picked this movie, necessarily. Nothing is wrong with it, I can tell that much, but it doesn't grab my attention all that much. It's a complicated business I'm starting to see. I can tell when something's bad but not when it's good. I can tell when a finished movie is going to be good or not but being able to tell what will be good seems much trickier. I guess that could be why such crap is made. At least, that might be one of the reasons. The other being the need to make money off of refried stories.
I started at my internship for a very cool production company in the city. I don't know if I should tell you the name...well alright. It's Tribeca Productions. I know I promised you all I'd give you the inside scoop on what goes on behind the silver screen but right now I'm going to have to disappoint you because it's all so damn cool. It's a great building. I could work in an office forever if it's as nicely designed and friendly as this one. Everyone I've met is fairly young and well dressed but not in a pretentious way. They seem very friendly. My first day I had to go to Magnolia Bakery
to pick up so cupcakes for a gift. MMMMMM. It's goood. Maybe not the best in the world or anything but still good and sugary. I got to read the script for the movie we're going into production on in March. It's pretty good. I liked it alright. The strange thing about reading scripts though is that not everything is given to the reader. I'm used to reading fiction and in fiction most everything is described for you. You generally understand the motive of the person, even if you don't know what their tea tastes like as they sip it and pulverize their assistant. In movies too, you are given most of the information. You can read the actors' faces and get an idea of where they're coming from. Or their clothes and understand what this character is supposed to be. Reading a script is more like reading a blueprint. You can look at all the outlines and get an idea for what the finished product will be but you aren't sure what color they'll paint the walls or where they'll hang the pictures. And you start to think of it as a fairly blank, bland building and forget about things like interior design and personal choices. You need to think of it like a blueprint but when you're used to looking at the finished product it's hard to readjust.
So, I was reading the script and not knowing who would play what role or what that actor would do with a certain line and it is very hard to get an idea of what is good in terms of scripts or not. I don't really know what producers look for when they read a script trying to decide whether or not to make it into a movie. If I had to do that right now I wouldn't have picked this movie, necessarily. Nothing is wrong with it, I can tell that much, but it doesn't grab my attention all that much. It's a complicated business I'm starting to see. I can tell when something's bad but not when it's good. I can tell when a finished movie is going to be good or not but being able to tell what will be good seems much trickier. I guess that could be why such crap is made. At least, that might be one of the reasons. The other being the need to make money off of refried stories.
Friday, February 02, 2007
There are no small parts, only small actors
And last night I ran into one of them. I was hailing a cab. One stopped to let somebody out and I hurried up to it. I came between two cars to reach the door. And as I did I stepped right into the way of him: 
Looking slightly tired and quite handsome despite his height. He walked into a chophouse by my office as I pounded on the window for the cab to stop. And then I called all my friends who thought I was crazy because they had no idea who he was. "Haven't you seen The Station Agent?" I asked in disbelief. I guess I was the only one who thought it was a great movie.
That's the first sighting I've had in New York. I know it's lame to admit that I was hoping to run into somebody here but I was. I know it's a big place but with so many stylish, glamourous people walking around I always kept my eye out to see if one of those glamourous people was someone worth taking notice of. Nothing except some Dinklage yet. Have you ever noticed how his name fits his size quite well? He could be a Dickensian character with a name like that. Well, perhaps I'll have more opportunity for sightings starting February 13th. That's the day I start my internship at a well known film production center in downtown New York. I think I'll probably end up a silly giggling girl staring up at someone I know so well from the movies and not at all in real life. I hope that if I do see someone i recognize I don't embarass myself. It's hard to think of yourself as even moderately cool if you can't stop staring at someone who's famous cause they can pretend to be other people well. I wonder who I'll see? It's like Christmas!
Looking slightly tired and quite handsome despite his height. He walked into a chophouse by my office as I pounded on the window for the cab to stop. And then I called all my friends who thought I was crazy because they had no idea who he was. "Haven't you seen The Station Agent?" I asked in disbelief. I guess I was the only one who thought it was a great movie.
That's the first sighting I've had in New York. I know it's lame to admit that I was hoping to run into somebody here but I was. I know it's a big place but with so many stylish, glamourous people walking around I always kept my eye out to see if one of those glamourous people was someone worth taking notice of. Nothing except some Dinklage yet. Have you ever noticed how his name fits his size quite well? He could be a Dickensian character with a name like that. Well, perhaps I'll have more opportunity for sightings starting February 13th. That's the day I start my internship at a well known film production center in downtown New York. I think I'll probably end up a silly giggling girl staring up at someone I know so well from the movies and not at all in real life. I hope that if I do see someone i recognize I don't embarass myself. It's hard to think of yourself as even moderately cool if you can't stop staring at someone who's famous cause they can pretend to be other people well. I wonder who I'll see? It's like Christmas!
Monday, January 29, 2007
Again with the life questions
Who am I? What is my purpose in life? What should I do with my life?
Big questions without real answers, I know. But they're questions that have been plaguing me lately. What should I do with my life? I ask this of myself constantly. And also, am I living in the right place? I moved to New York with the hope that I would be part of this exciting city and get to experience a different sort of life. Meet new and interesting people. Right now that seems a little bleak. I know it's because I'm still new here but it does throw into starck relief the kind of life I hope to have and if this is the path that will get me there.
I've also been wondering if television and film is something I want to continue pursuing. I think about going back to school constantly but I don't know if it is just my escape mechanism kicking in or what. See, everything that I attempt that seems hard or insurmountable I drop or run from. The only time I stuck it out was to finish my degree. I knew I could do it even if I was tired of it and ready to be done. Or I leave places when I feel bored and as though I'm stuck. I don't know if this is the best way to live life because it means I never give things the chance they deserve and I never stick things out. But I also tend to think that life is too short to be miserable in a job or place. So my delimma is always whether it is better to stick something out or get out of the mess. And right now that's my problem.
See, I convince myself that this career isn't the one for me, or this school or major or job. I convince myself that things will be better elsewhere. It's the 'Grass Is Greener' syndrome. I'm not that jealous of people per se, I'm just always looking for the next pot of gold in a way. I guess that's the American Dream but I want MY dream, not the American Dream. I can never figure out what would be the best route. I always second guess myself and I always change my mind.
Right now I'm trying to decide whether to try television for a while and then, depending on that, I'll decide about grad school. And that seems a reasonable enough solution. Especially considering that the television job I'm looking for isn't hiring until March through June. And I wouldn't even start applying to grad school until the Fall or Spring of next year. You would think that I could just sit back and relax and wait to see. But no. I constantly have to be weighing the options, considering my next move. I can't sit still.
I think part of this has to do with the fact that I don't yet have a place to live. I'm on the verge of desperation. I don't know where I'll go in about a week. If I get the internship that I was offered I guess I'll really have to find a place. If not I might have to go back to Reston for a little while and decide what to do then. I don't want to have to go back to Reston. I'd like to make a break and stay here and begin to settle in. If I do get the writer's assistant job I want it might take me to L.A., which I'd be fine with. I just need to know something. Usually I take it all in stride and have a sense of certainty that even up to the last minute something will work itself out. But when it means I might not have a place to live and my resources are dwindling it makes it a little harder to sit back and wait for something to fall in my lap. It's like my daydreams are getting caught up in ther real world and the world I thought I knew as real is slowly turning sour.
Big questions without real answers, I know. But they're questions that have been plaguing me lately. What should I do with my life? I ask this of myself constantly. And also, am I living in the right place? I moved to New York with the hope that I would be part of this exciting city and get to experience a different sort of life. Meet new and interesting people. Right now that seems a little bleak. I know it's because I'm still new here but it does throw into starck relief the kind of life I hope to have and if this is the path that will get me there.
I've also been wondering if television and film is something I want to continue pursuing. I think about going back to school constantly but I don't know if it is just my escape mechanism kicking in or what. See, everything that I attempt that seems hard or insurmountable I drop or run from. The only time I stuck it out was to finish my degree. I knew I could do it even if I was tired of it and ready to be done. Or I leave places when I feel bored and as though I'm stuck. I don't know if this is the best way to live life because it means I never give things the chance they deserve and I never stick things out. But I also tend to think that life is too short to be miserable in a job or place. So my delimma is always whether it is better to stick something out or get out of the mess. And right now that's my problem.
See, I convince myself that this career isn't the one for me, or this school or major or job. I convince myself that things will be better elsewhere. It's the 'Grass Is Greener' syndrome. I'm not that jealous of people per se, I'm just always looking for the next pot of gold in a way. I guess that's the American Dream but I want MY dream, not the American Dream. I can never figure out what would be the best route. I always second guess myself and I always change my mind.
Right now I'm trying to decide whether to try television for a while and then, depending on that, I'll decide about grad school. And that seems a reasonable enough solution. Especially considering that the television job I'm looking for isn't hiring until March through June. And I wouldn't even start applying to grad school until the Fall or Spring of next year. You would think that I could just sit back and relax and wait to see. But no. I constantly have to be weighing the options, considering my next move. I can't sit still.
I think part of this has to do with the fact that I don't yet have a place to live. I'm on the verge of desperation. I don't know where I'll go in about a week. If I get the internship that I was offered I guess I'll really have to find a place. If not I might have to go back to Reston for a little while and decide what to do then. I don't want to have to go back to Reston. I'd like to make a break and stay here and begin to settle in. If I do get the writer's assistant job I want it might take me to L.A., which I'd be fine with. I just need to know something. Usually I take it all in stride and have a sense of certainty that even up to the last minute something will work itself out. But when it means I might not have a place to live and my resources are dwindling it makes it a little harder to sit back and wait for something to fall in my lap. It's like my daydreams are getting caught up in ther real world and the world I thought I knew as real is slowly turning sour.
Friday, January 26, 2007
2 days and no boss
It's Day 2 of my life without a boss. It's ridiculously nice to be in an office and have no supervisor. I know what I'm supposed to be doing and I do that without worrying that someone is micro managing me. Not that the people I work with do that, it's just a feeling I always get when I'm the new person and have someone to answer to directly. I get nervous that I'll slack off too much or not do something right. I guess it comes from often being in a job where I don't directly employ my strengths but am only here as a person who can do errands and answer the phone. I feel that if I were here because of my strengths then it would be different. Don't get me wrong, I like the people I'm working with and I can do the job well, I'm just tired though, of not doing things for which I have the talent. I think I'm a talented person and I'd like to be able to work in an environment where those talents are acknowledged and appreciated. But I feel like it might be a while in this industry before that happens.
Anyway, since I've got nothing better to do and my bosses are in Miami I've had the freedom to watch tv or movies all day long. And I've got a steady supply of TV shows and movies sent to my bosses for their consideration for all sorts of awards, like the Emmys and so on. The other night I watched a DVD of the new movie 'Little Children'. My boss loaned it to me when I said I was going to see it at the theatre. Today I watched 'It's Always Sunny In Philadephia', a pretty funny show and 'Conviction' not quite a spin off of 'Law & Order' but close. It was cancelled, unfortunately, because I thought the show was quite good. I also watched '30 Days' the TV show that was a spin off (but in a good way) of 'SuperSize Me'. It's Morgan Spurlock's TV show (that also got cancelled) about people living different lives for 30 days. The first episode is about him and his fiancee moving to Columbus, OH for a month and living on minimum wage. It was interesting because it felt familiar. I know what it's like to count my pennies and worry about how much I can spend on food. I'm not saying I've ever been in such a tight situation as they were in but I understand the desperation they probably felt at times. And I watched as they both had to get medical attention because of injuries or illnesses they got from the life style they had. And saw their hospital bills. As one man in the show said 'America doesn't have health insurance, it has sick insurance.' If you have a heart attack and go to a hospital you will be treated. But you won't be treated before the heart attack for preventive measures. I am astounded at our country's way of treating the poor and the sick. We would rather shell out huge amounts of money if you're about to die, but won't pay for small things that could prevent the sickness. It just seems like a backwards way of doing things. I want health care reform.
I also watched an episode about a Christian white man living for a month as a Muslim man in America and a conservative straight man living in San Francisco. They were really interesting and sometimes hard to watch but the kind of television I like. It's sort of like a grown up, actual reality tv version of MTV's Made, where kids become something they've always dreamed of through help and hard work. A change comes about in them that is amazing to see. And that's how it felt with these guys. To see the conservative Christian straight guy go from spouting Bible verses about sin to accepting that these people are a lot like him was powerful. I wish more people could have this oppurtunity. And I also wish that people could understand more about the Bible. I was listening to the Diane Reims show a few months back and she had a Biblical scholar on who was talking about his book. He had become a scholar of the Bible because he was a fundamentalist young man and wanted to know more about the origins of Christianity. It was quite ironic, I suppose, when he began to realize that the Bible was modified as it was transcribed by the early Christians. Things that were never part of Christ's teachings got changed around, according to the Christian who was writing it. I'm not saying the Bible is completely a fake or wrong. But I am saying that the Word of God can't be exactly recorded because of the fallibility of man. If it had descended from heaven and photocopied right then, then I would believe every iota it had I guess, but it wasn't. And i can't trust men that changed things in order to have the religion read the way they wanted it to. Somethings became more severe than they might have begun. I do believe in the heart of Jesus' saying and I do believe that the Bible has a great deal of good and that people should try to live life like Jesus because he was full of love and peace and unselfishness. But do I believe some aspects of it? I can't justify some of it with what I feel as a human to be true. That might just be the human flaw in me but I believe that if I live a life that is peaceful and loving towards everyone and accept the fact that I am not perfect and can never hope to be then I think that is what Christianity is all about. There are also some things about accepting Jesus as your savior. I guess I believe those, but I'm not sure how I feel about them yet. I'm not quite comfortable with that. That might be something I'm never comfortable with but I can't say I don't believe in God just because I don't know understand everything he means. I think that Christianity requires some suspension of belief. It is a strange and magical religion and I understand when people say they can't rationalize that. Neither can I. I'm still just figuring out. And I guess that makes me a Christian. But even that word makes me uncomfortable. Can I say I'm a Christian when I feel as though many of the people who also profess this are people I wouldn't want to associate with?
Anyway, since I've got nothing better to do and my bosses are in Miami I've had the freedom to watch tv or movies all day long. And I've got a steady supply of TV shows and movies sent to my bosses for their consideration for all sorts of awards, like the Emmys and so on. The other night I watched a DVD of the new movie 'Little Children'. My boss loaned it to me when I said I was going to see it at the theatre. Today I watched 'It's Always Sunny In Philadephia', a pretty funny show and 'Conviction' not quite a spin off of 'Law & Order' but close. It was cancelled, unfortunately, because I thought the show was quite good. I also watched '30 Days' the TV show that was a spin off (but in a good way) of 'SuperSize Me'. It's Morgan Spurlock's TV show (that also got cancelled) about people living different lives for 30 days. The first episode is about him and his fiancee moving to Columbus, OH for a month and living on minimum wage. It was interesting because it felt familiar. I know what it's like to count my pennies and worry about how much I can spend on food. I'm not saying I've ever been in such a tight situation as they were in but I understand the desperation they probably felt at times. And I watched as they both had to get medical attention because of injuries or illnesses they got from the life style they had. And saw their hospital bills. As one man in the show said 'America doesn't have health insurance, it has sick insurance.' If you have a heart attack and go to a hospital you will be treated. But you won't be treated before the heart attack for preventive measures. I am astounded at our country's way of treating the poor and the sick. We would rather shell out huge amounts of money if you're about to die, but won't pay for small things that could prevent the sickness. It just seems like a backwards way of doing things. I want health care reform.
I also watched an episode about a Christian white man living for a month as a Muslim man in America and a conservative straight man living in San Francisco. They were really interesting and sometimes hard to watch but the kind of television I like. It's sort of like a grown up, actual reality tv version of MTV's Made, where kids become something they've always dreamed of through help and hard work. A change comes about in them that is amazing to see. And that's how it felt with these guys. To see the conservative Christian straight guy go from spouting Bible verses about sin to accepting that these people are a lot like him was powerful. I wish more people could have this oppurtunity. And I also wish that people could understand more about the Bible. I was listening to the Diane Reims show a few months back and she had a Biblical scholar on who was talking about his book. He had become a scholar of the Bible because he was a fundamentalist young man and wanted to know more about the origins of Christianity. It was quite ironic, I suppose, when he began to realize that the Bible was modified as it was transcribed by the early Christians. Things that were never part of Christ's teachings got changed around, according to the Christian who was writing it. I'm not saying the Bible is completely a fake or wrong. But I am saying that the Word of God can't be exactly recorded because of the fallibility of man. If it had descended from heaven and photocopied right then, then I would believe every iota it had I guess, but it wasn't. And i can't trust men that changed things in order to have the religion read the way they wanted it to. Somethings became more severe than they might have begun. I do believe in the heart of Jesus' saying and I do believe that the Bible has a great deal of good and that people should try to live life like Jesus because he was full of love and peace and unselfishness. But do I believe some aspects of it? I can't justify some of it with what I feel as a human to be true. That might just be the human flaw in me but I believe that if I live a life that is peaceful and loving towards everyone and accept the fact that I am not perfect and can never hope to be then I think that is what Christianity is all about. There are also some things about accepting Jesus as your savior. I guess I believe those, but I'm not sure how I feel about them yet. I'm not quite comfortable with that. That might be something I'm never comfortable with but I can't say I don't believe in God just because I don't know understand everything he means. I think that Christianity requires some suspension of belief. It is a strange and magical religion and I understand when people say they can't rationalize that. Neither can I. I'm still just figuring out. And I guess that makes me a Christian. But even that word makes me uncomfortable. Can I say I'm a Christian when I feel as though many of the people who also profess this are people I wouldn't want to associate with?
Wednesday, January 24, 2007
The Fug at Work
Yesterday I commited a heinous error. I let the delivery guy go to the bathroom in...THE OFFICE! I know, I know. Crazy of me. And yeah, he did have neon yellow hair and looked like a clown. Why, oh why would I let such a person despoil our bathroom like that? He could be doing drugs in there! He could be stealing our top secret Prince costumes! Or spying on the Russian Arts Foundation!
At least, that's the attitude my boss' wife seemed to take. She works in the office too. She runs the Arts Foundation. She wanted to know who had let him in and who had let him use the bathroom and then she told me that the bathroom down the hall (that's locked!) is for them. How was I supposed to know? And I didn't buzz him in. That was all her Russian girls. She wanted me to walk him down the hall and make sure he didn't get into any mischef during the fifteen steps down the hall. I sort of made a face because I thought she was being overly ridiculous and because I was stuck behind some boxes and it would be awkward to get out. She asked if I had a problem with this. No, of course not. Why would I have a problem babysitting a delivery clown while he goes to the bathroom? It's not like he's never been in an office building before.
The thing is, it's hard to take your boss seriously when she's wearing brown cordoroy pants with pockets and zippers placed at random, a brown sweater that cuts her off at her stomach and brown boots. She looked like a skinny potato. Today she has on green pants with brown cuffs that actually have a belt to be buckled around the ankles. WHY? As she walked away i almost laughed out loud.
The day before she was wearing black leather pants with lacing up the sides. my God woman! You have a child! I know you're Russain and your people were stuck in the backwaters of 1970s Soviet fashion for a long time and that a pair of jeans must seem like a luxury item to you but let go of the Eurotrash ways! Your husband dresses with more sense than you. I find it morally rephrensible when a man is better dressed than his wife.
And what's stranger still is that she seems like a very uptight, serious woman. I don't know why she feels the need to show off a crazy, wilder side with leather pants but keep the sensible side intact by pairing it with a sweater. Why would such an uptight woman dress this way? It confuses me.
And, it's not like she can't dress or look decent. There's a photo of her hanging in the hallway looking quite nice and well dressed. It looks like a photo taken for a profile in a magazine. And her husband, my boss has photos of her and their son and I wasn't sure if they were the same woman because she looked so much nicer. Maybe not the clothes, I couldn't see them in the picture. Is this a recent fashion decision? I feel like I need to do a daily fug on her. Maybe I will keep you updated on her fashion stylings.
At least, that's the attitude my boss' wife seemed to take. She works in the office too. She runs the Arts Foundation. She wanted to know who had let him in and who had let him use the bathroom and then she told me that the bathroom down the hall (that's locked!) is for them. How was I supposed to know? And I didn't buzz him in. That was all her Russian girls. She wanted me to walk him down the hall and make sure he didn't get into any mischef during the fifteen steps down the hall. I sort of made a face because I thought she was being overly ridiculous and because I was stuck behind some boxes and it would be awkward to get out. She asked if I had a problem with this. No, of course not. Why would I have a problem babysitting a delivery clown while he goes to the bathroom? It's not like he's never been in an office building before.
The thing is, it's hard to take your boss seriously when she's wearing brown cordoroy pants with pockets and zippers placed at random, a brown sweater that cuts her off at her stomach and brown boots. She looked like a skinny potato. Today she has on green pants with brown cuffs that actually have a belt to be buckled around the ankles. WHY? As she walked away i almost laughed out loud.
The day before she was wearing black leather pants with lacing up the sides. my God woman! You have a child! I know you're Russain and your people were stuck in the backwaters of 1970s Soviet fashion for a long time and that a pair of jeans must seem like a luxury item to you but let go of the Eurotrash ways! Your husband dresses with more sense than you. I find it morally rephrensible when a man is better dressed than his wife.
And what's stranger still is that she seems like a very uptight, serious woman. I don't know why she feels the need to show off a crazy, wilder side with leather pants but keep the sensible side intact by pairing it with a sweater. Why would such an uptight woman dress this way? It confuses me.
And, it's not like she can't dress or look decent. There's a photo of her hanging in the hallway looking quite nice and well dressed. It looks like a photo taken for a profile in a magazine. And her husband, my boss has photos of her and their son and I wasn't sure if they were the same woman because she looked so much nicer. Maybe not the clothes, I couldn't see them in the picture. Is this a recent fashion decision? I feel like I need to do a daily fug on her. Maybe I will keep you updated on her fashion stylings.
Tuesday, January 23, 2007
The Long Search
After three weeks of looking for an apartment I'm still searching. And I'm getting a little depressed about it. Nothing's been terrible. Some things would have to be compromised but they were all do able. But nothing that made me want to jump right in. People have been okay but no one that I thought I could be close friends with. And it's making me a little depressed. How is it that I can't find anything? Where are all these people coming from? And it's making me question myself. Am I friendly seeming or do I look like a snob. I know I've been told I do come off as stand offish but only until people get to know me. I'm SHY, people! I'm really one of the least snobbish people I know. And one of the most easy going. I should get testamonials from friends to send along to potential roommates.
It's also making me question where I want to live. Do I want to live in a railroad style apartment in Bushwick? Do I want to pay a little more for a place in the East Village? Is Williamsburg enough of a community that I would feel at home, and are there normal, cool people there or just hipsters? After a lot of consideration I thik I'm going to look mainly in Brooklyn. I'd love to live in the Lower East Side or Greenwich Village but i think for now I'm best off in Brooklyn. Maybe if I had more money or more friends I could live in the LES or Queens or something but right now Williamsburg looks cool and fun and sort of friendly. I'm looking at two apartments tomorrow night and if either of them feel good I'm going to beg and plead my way in. I just am so worried about finding a place in time. Last night I couldn't fall asleep for the longest time because I was worrying over the schedule of finding a place, moving my stuff up to New York from Reston and everything else. It always seems so much more complicated when you're trying to fall asleep.
On a more exciting note, My friend Kiran (and maybe Mike ) are coming on Thursday, so even if I don't get one of the places I'll have a friend for the weekend. Chris and his boyfriend might be down too. And Aja just IM'd me to see if she and Sofia could crash this weekend. I told them that maybe next weekend would be better for me so I might have friends up for two weekends in a row! So much better than going to the Whitney alone like I did on Sunday! These thoughts make the day so much brighter. That and yoga in the a.m. I'm feeling so healthy today. I had such a high I couldn't write a word until after lunch when a hand ful of Jelly Bellys brought me back down to a normal state of nerves.
It's also making me question where I want to live. Do I want to live in a railroad style apartment in Bushwick? Do I want to pay a little more for a place in the East Village? Is Williamsburg enough of a community that I would feel at home, and are there normal, cool people there or just hipsters? After a lot of consideration I thik I'm going to look mainly in Brooklyn. I'd love to live in the Lower East Side or Greenwich Village but i think for now I'm best off in Brooklyn. Maybe if I had more money or more friends I could live in the LES or Queens or something but right now Williamsburg looks cool and fun and sort of friendly. I'm looking at two apartments tomorrow night and if either of them feel good I'm going to beg and plead my way in. I just am so worried about finding a place in time. Last night I couldn't fall asleep for the longest time because I was worrying over the schedule of finding a place, moving my stuff up to New York from Reston and everything else. It always seems so much more complicated when you're trying to fall asleep.
On a more exciting note, My friend Kiran (and maybe Mike ) are coming on Thursday, so even if I don't get one of the places I'll have a friend for the weekend. Chris and his boyfriend might be down too. And Aja just IM'd me to see if she and Sofia could crash this weekend. I told them that maybe next weekend would be better for me so I might have friends up for two weekends in a row! So much better than going to the Whitney alone like I did on Sunday! These thoughts make the day so much brighter. That and yoga in the a.m. I'm feeling so healthy today. I had such a high I couldn't write a word until after lunch when a hand ful of Jelly Bellys brought me back down to a normal state of nerves.
Monday, January 15, 2007
Weekend Update
Friday: After work I had to move all of my belongings from Flatbush, Brooklyn to Tudor City, Manhattan. I'm staying at my friend's studio while she's in Miami with the Super Bowl. She's the one who got me the job, and now she's letting me stay in her place. I can't believe it. I also can't believe how cute it is. Tudor City is just what its name implies. It is some old buildings built in the style of of English Tudor and comprising a block right by the Harbor on the very eastern side of the island. I can see Queens and the UN building in the hallway of the building. The studio is small, just a bathroom (with lovely porcelian fixtures) a kitchenette and a room. But it has a great view of the park right by the building and the Empire State building and until February 5 it's all mine. I've never lived alone before. Always with someone, mostly my family. I like it so much I might not be able to deal with a roommate.
Anyway, that is not the point of this entry. Let me get to that. I went out to Flatbush and got one of my bags to take to the apartment. I had two large bags and I knew I'd have to change trains and walk a couple of blocks to the building. I didn't want to create too much trouble for myself. I probably should have gotten a cab but that would cost about $30 and I don't have money to waste when I could just make more effort. Before I left I sat down to watch a few minutes of TV, to relax from the hour train ride from work to Brooklyn. As I flipped back and forth from The Daily Show to Vh1's The Fabulous Life of the Ridiculously Wealthy (maybe not the actual name.) during commercial breaks, it solidified a feeling I've been having since arriving here. I really like New York but sometimes I feel depressed because I don't have much money. I know a lot of people in this city don't but when I see things like the $32 million dollar penthouse Ivanka Trump is showing off, that her dad owns and which she hopes to own someday it makes me very jealous. (Not just for me, but I'm not Mother Theresa.) Then I watched the Daily Show and see Jon Stewart who is successful but down to earth and aware of these differences. I can't stand Ivanka Trump's heir apparent attitude.
That was what I was thinking about as I carried my heavy bag through the dreary streets of Flatbush and down onto the train.
Doing something like this, moving from place to place, job to job, worrying about money and what the next step will be is the reality of being a young person trying to make their dreams come true. It will give me something to ground myself someday when I'm looking back, thinking about where I've come from. Even though it's hard now I'd rather take this risks and come out on top than be given everything like Ivanka. I don't think I could get used to that sort of wealth or ever feel comfortable with it. When I came up from the subway to Grand Central and down 42nd St. towards the sweet studio that I could see myself living in someday, I felt as though this is a taste of what success will mean for me. Not huge, but enough to feel happy. And when the day is over and I don't have to carry my luggage around Manhattan I will view these hard days as some small memory.
Once I dropped off one bag I had to go back for the monster bag, the one with all of my clothes. I take an hour train ride and get about a block away from the house in Flatbush when I realize I've left the keys back in the apartment in Manhattan. Sandy, the man who's house I've been staying at had left for Boston that morning and everything was locked up. Dejected I walked back to the subway, went back to Manhattan and went to bed. It was 1 am by this point and the guy I was supposed to meet for a drink thought I had stood him up because along with my keys I left my cell phone. It was not the good kind of stress like the one above, but the kind that makes me feel stupid.
Saturday my mom and two of her friends came into the city and stayed in the W in Times Square. I got up and met them there. Times Square is such a busy tourist trap that winding my way through it I really felt like a New Yorker. It was good to see my mom again and her friends Darcy and Lil are good for her. Crazy women who like to laugh. They came with me to get my other bag in Flatbush and we ate Chinese on the train. They exclaimed over the house in Flatbush with all it nooks and crannies and the tiny adorable studio. We went to a stand up comedy club and loved it. I think I'm going to do more of that while I'm here. I met up with Sib, my new friend that I stood up on Friday and we went to a bar in Williamsburg. I had a good time dancing to old school hip hop and Prince. And then I got lost on the train in Queens. I got home around 5:30 am.
Sunday we went to the site of the World Trade Center memorial. Even though I sometimes think people get overly patriotic and nationalistic when they talk about 9/11 when I'm reminded of the actual horror of the events and see the pictures that documented the day and people's reactions it makes me cry. The nationalistic take on things slips away and I forget that it led to war and Iraq and President Bush and I remember that day.
After that we headed back to Times Square area to see an Off Broadway show called the Altar Boyz. At first I was hesitant. Musicals and anything spelled with a Z where it should be an S makes me want to gag. And stages that are dangerously close to the audience. But Altar Boyz was a pleasant surprise. It was a satire of Christian based pop boy bands and the silly hypocrisy of it. The five boys were great. They sang and danced better than any pop singer I've seen and subtly created their characters even while singing and dancing. We loved it. I think I'll do more of that while I'm here too. After that we got some Italian and then had the requisite Cosmos at a bar. They got a little drunker than I expected and after some embarassment I had to say goodnight. I love them but I can do without three drunk tourists in the city I'm still trying to break into. I'm glad they came though and had such a good time. I wish I knew the city better so I could show them more of it.
And that is the weekend update.
Anyway, that is not the point of this entry. Let me get to that. I went out to Flatbush and got one of my bags to take to the apartment. I had two large bags and I knew I'd have to change trains and walk a couple of blocks to the building. I didn't want to create too much trouble for myself. I probably should have gotten a cab but that would cost about $30 and I don't have money to waste when I could just make more effort. Before I left I sat down to watch a few minutes of TV, to relax from the hour train ride from work to Brooklyn. As I flipped back and forth from The Daily Show to Vh1's The Fabulous Life of the Ridiculously Wealthy (maybe not the actual name.) during commercial breaks, it solidified a feeling I've been having since arriving here. I really like New York but sometimes I feel depressed because I don't have much money. I know a lot of people in this city don't but when I see things like the $32 million dollar penthouse Ivanka Trump is showing off, that her dad owns and which she hopes to own someday it makes me very jealous. (Not just for me, but I'm not Mother Theresa.) Then I watched the Daily Show and see Jon Stewart who is successful but down to earth and aware of these differences. I can't stand Ivanka Trump's heir apparent attitude.
That was what I was thinking about as I carried my heavy bag through the dreary streets of Flatbush and down onto the train.
Doing something like this, moving from place to place, job to job, worrying about money and what the next step will be is the reality of being a young person trying to make their dreams come true. It will give me something to ground myself someday when I'm looking back, thinking about where I've come from. Even though it's hard now I'd rather take this risks and come out on top than be given everything like Ivanka. I don't think I could get used to that sort of wealth or ever feel comfortable with it. When I came up from the subway to Grand Central and down 42nd St. towards the sweet studio that I could see myself living in someday, I felt as though this is a taste of what success will mean for me. Not huge, but enough to feel happy. And when the day is over and I don't have to carry my luggage around Manhattan I will view these hard days as some small memory.
Once I dropped off one bag I had to go back for the monster bag, the one with all of my clothes. I take an hour train ride and get about a block away from the house in Flatbush when I realize I've left the keys back in the apartment in Manhattan. Sandy, the man who's house I've been staying at had left for Boston that morning and everything was locked up. Dejected I walked back to the subway, went back to Manhattan and went to bed. It was 1 am by this point and the guy I was supposed to meet for a drink thought I had stood him up because along with my keys I left my cell phone. It was not the good kind of stress like the one above, but the kind that makes me feel stupid.
Saturday my mom and two of her friends came into the city and stayed in the W in Times Square. I got up and met them there. Times Square is such a busy tourist trap that winding my way through it I really felt like a New Yorker. It was good to see my mom again and her friends Darcy and Lil are good for her. Crazy women who like to laugh. They came with me to get my other bag in Flatbush and we ate Chinese on the train. They exclaimed over the house in Flatbush with all it nooks and crannies and the tiny adorable studio. We went to a stand up comedy club and loved it. I think I'm going to do more of that while I'm here. I met up with Sib, my new friend that I stood up on Friday and we went to a bar in Williamsburg. I had a good time dancing to old school hip hop and Prince. And then I got lost on the train in Queens. I got home around 5:30 am.
Sunday we went to the site of the World Trade Center memorial. Even though I sometimes think people get overly patriotic and nationalistic when they talk about 9/11 when I'm reminded of the actual horror of the events and see the pictures that documented the day and people's reactions it makes me cry. The nationalistic take on things slips away and I forget that it led to war and Iraq and President Bush and I remember that day.
After that we headed back to Times Square area to see an Off Broadway show called the Altar Boyz. At first I was hesitant. Musicals and anything spelled with a Z where it should be an S makes me want to gag. And stages that are dangerously close to the audience. But Altar Boyz was a pleasant surprise. It was a satire of Christian based pop boy bands and the silly hypocrisy of it. The five boys were great. They sang and danced better than any pop singer I've seen and subtly created their characters even while singing and dancing. We loved it. I think I'll do more of that while I'm here too. After that we got some Italian and then had the requisite Cosmos at a bar. They got a little drunker than I expected and after some embarassment I had to say goodnight. I love them but I can do without three drunk tourists in the city I'm still trying to break into. I'm glad they came though and had such a good time. I wish I knew the city better so I could show them more of it.
And that is the weekend update.
Thursday, January 11, 2007
Thursday Confession
It's National De-Lurking Day!! I've 'fessed up to my lurking on other blogs and now it's your turn. So if you've read my blog and not commented, or not commented for a while I'd like to hear from you.
And if you're my mom and need to be walked through how to leave a comment then give me a call, because I noticed that even after the first time I told you how to do it I haven't gotten anything. And I'm your daughter! Not cool, Mom. Not cool.
(I'll see you on Saturday.)
And if you're my mom and need to be walked through how to leave a comment then give me a call, because I noticed that even after the first time I told you how to do it I haven't gotten anything. And I'm your daughter! Not cool, Mom. Not cool.
(I'll see you on Saturday.)
Friday, January 05, 2007
Mannequins and New Jersey Diners
Yesterday I spent an hour calling all the different department stores in Miami (where our production team is headed in a couple of days.) trying to find mannequins that we could rent/buy for our wardrobe department. Part of me loves the challenge of something like this. I get to use my sleuthing skills and track down things, weasel it out of people and generally be my charming self to get my way. It's like playing a very fun character. Part of me hates having to sit through the computer controlled voice operators who speak so calmly and can't actually understand you.
"I heard Juniors department. Is this correct?" "No!" "I'm sorry. Please repeat the department you wish to be connected to."
It's so satisfying to get snippy with them until you realize it's not doing you any good and is probably only making it worse. Finally when I reach one live person I asked if I could speak to the visual merchandising department. Or, if it's a cheaper store 'for the person who's in charge of the mannequins.' And then, inevitably I get shunted to someone who doesn't know anything about it. Or I get told that 'We don't rent them out." 'Okay, well, do you someone who might?" "No." Thank you for your help." Bitch. I started calling costume stores and got the same response. Finally someone recommended some prop stores. At one of the prop stores they refered me to "Jerry." "Jerry" refered me to "Mike Dane" I googled Mike Dane + Miami and found only one number, a home number, which I then called. And called back this morning because the pager number given got no response from him. Apparently the only guy who can help me in Miami isn't into returning calls. Great.
I spent the majority of my day in a storage facility in New Jersey. Matt and I, another PA had to pack up various things to be shipped down to Miami and then sit around and wait for FedEx to pick them up. And when I say 'pack up various things' I mean an entire pallet and then use plastic packaging wrap to Saranwrap everything into a nice, unbudgable pile. Once we were finished with that we went to get lunch at the Tick Tock Diner and kill some time. We had four hours.
The diner was exactly what I expected a diner in New Jersey to be. Full of old, affluent Jewish people, business men that look like car dealers or toilet bowl salesmen and big beefy guys. I'm glad somethings live up to my expectations.
When lunch was finished we went back to the storage unit to move the pallet outside for the FedEx guys. That was when we realizd the pallet wouldn't fit out the door. We had a stack of fifteen Gatorade water coolers and had to wrench three out to squeeze it out the door. We just barely made it. Then we stood around for an hour until the truck arrived. After that we headed back into Manhattan. What a glamorous life, television is.
Thursday, January 04, 2007
Ifs, Ands & Buts.
I'm torn constantly between my desire for quiet, tea and good books, nice walks and lovely food and my desire to get my voice heard. These days, as I make my way through New York, getting lost at every turn (Everytime I think I know my way to work I find I know nothing at all), I wonder what is better; a quiet life or a busy one? It's like my version of Hamlet's eternal question. To be or not to be. I wonder often, and these days oftener than not, whether my calling is to be a screenwriter and stay in New York, hoping to make it; hoping to get my work seen, much less made. Or I could, after soaking up the city for a while go back to school and teach English at a college somewhere where the $2 beer night at the local bar and the townhall players' new show are the biggest excitements. Both offer a different sort of satisfaction. Both offer a different sort of pleasure. One feels impossible and one feels like a cop out.
This might just be a question that seems important now. I might find that after a year of living in the city I love it too much to think about going back and have too many friends. Or I might find that as interesting it is I can't make a living doing anything I want to do and I can't get anywhere and leaving won't seem like a cop out since I tried and decided it wasn't for me.
So far I like elements of the city and I like strolling down the streets. But I haven't explored enough to know that I love it. And for me love is tied up in friends and so far I feel lonely.
On a more professional note, I made a little trip to the NFL headquarters yesterday. Strolling down Park Ave in my black winter coat and boots and stockings made me feel very adorably cityish. Not that that is very professional, but it was an errand and it was a glimpse at a lovely citylife. There is definitely more of that to follow, if I have anything to say about it.
For a real professional note: I've decided to look at finding writer's internships. I don't know if such a thing exists but I imagine that working for a show's writers would help me decide what I want to do and some clear paths. And it might help me with my writing.
This might just be a question that seems important now. I might find that after a year of living in the city I love it too much to think about going back and have too many friends. Or I might find that as interesting it is I can't make a living doing anything I want to do and I can't get anywhere and leaving won't seem like a cop out since I tried and decided it wasn't for me.
So far I like elements of the city and I like strolling down the streets. But I haven't explored enough to know that I love it. And for me love is tied up in friends and so far I feel lonely.
On a more professional note, I made a little trip to the NFL headquarters yesterday. Strolling down Park Ave in my black winter coat and boots and stockings made me feel very adorably cityish. Not that that is very professional, but it was an errand and it was a glimpse at a lovely citylife. There is definitely more of that to follow, if I have anything to say about it.
For a real professional note: I've decided to look at finding writer's internships. I don't know if such a thing exists but I imagine that working for a show's writers would help me decide what I want to do and some clear paths. And it might help me with my writing.
Tuesday, January 02, 2007
New York, For Real
I'm here in my office-for-a-while on W 36th St. Looking out of my window I see other buildings and offices and people going about their days. To my right is a building with cars on the roof. Cars! On the roof! I like the looks of the buildings. Old, my style. It's near Broadway and it's very busy down here. I'm glad. I'd hate to come to New York only to be working in a dingy no where building.
I took the Subway in today and wasn't properly paying attention because I got off one train and onto another and I should have just stayed on it. Instead I ended up on the wrong side of the city. Taxi!
I was a couple of minutes late but nothing to sweat. Everyone seems very cool and relaxed. I don't exactly know what I'll be doing but I'm excited to be here. At last.
I miss my family though. I talked to them yesterday and almost cried. Well, I did cry, but just a little bit. I'll get over it soon I think. I hope.
There's not much I can say right now. I'm still a little overwhelmed and trying to catch my breath. I think I'm starting to fit in though. At Grand Central Station there were lots of tourists and I was quite annoyed with them as they were in my way. But, I also got lost on the subway. Oh well, you win some and lose some.
The bus ride from DC was long and rainy. It was fairly quiet until the girl sitting diagonally in front of me got motion sickness and started throwing up. An hour before we got into the city. I was immediately transported back to elementary school, and started wondering when the janitor would come around with that horrible sickly sweet disinfectant.
The place where I'm staying is in Flatbush, Brooklyn. It's funny, I exchanged one cluttered house that was driving me crazy for another cluttered house that I can't complain about because it's a free place to stay. I like Sandy, the guy who's house I'm staying at. His wife is in Boston with their daughter and grandson. I think this will be a nice place to stay for a little while. Speaking of that, I need to start looking.
I took the Subway in today and wasn't properly paying attention because I got off one train and onto another and I should have just stayed on it. Instead I ended up on the wrong side of the city. Taxi!
I was a couple of minutes late but nothing to sweat. Everyone seems very cool and relaxed. I don't exactly know what I'll be doing but I'm excited to be here. At last.
I miss my family though. I talked to them yesterday and almost cried. Well, I did cry, but just a little bit. I'll get over it soon I think. I hope.
There's not much I can say right now. I'm still a little overwhelmed and trying to catch my breath. I think I'm starting to fit in though. At Grand Central Station there were lots of tourists and I was quite annoyed with them as they were in my way. But, I also got lost on the subway. Oh well, you win some and lose some.
The bus ride from DC was long and rainy. It was fairly quiet until the girl sitting diagonally in front of me got motion sickness and started throwing up. An hour before we got into the city. I was immediately transported back to elementary school, and started wondering when the janitor would come around with that horrible sickly sweet disinfectant.
The place where I'm staying is in Flatbush, Brooklyn. It's funny, I exchanged one cluttered house that was driving me crazy for another cluttered house that I can't complain about because it's a free place to stay. I like Sandy, the guy who's house I'm staying at. His wife is in Boston with their daughter and grandson. I think this will be a nice place to stay for a little while. Speaking of that, I need to start looking.
Thursday, December 28, 2006
The Inevitable Nervous Breakdown
My bags are packed, I'm ready to go, I'm standin' here outside your door, I hate to wake you up to say goodbye. But the dawn is breakin', it's early morn. The taxi's waitin', he's blowin' his horn. Already I'm so lonesome I could die. So kiss me and smile for me. Tell me that you'll wait for me. Hold me like you'll never let me go...oh oops. That's a John Denver song! Sometimes I get my life confused with lyrics from 70's folk singers.
I guess it does make a little sense. Except my bags aren't quite packed yet and I'm not taking a taxi or leaving on a jet plane. More like the Chinatown Express. But the sentiment is the same. Ah, John Denver. You spoke for us all when you sang those words. I'm getting ready to make the long journey north. I haven't even left yet and already I'm so lonesome I could die. All right! Enough folk singers!
But seriously, folks. I am pretty nervous. I'm going to be up there New Year's Eve and I just got finished watching "When Harry Met Sally" and envisioning myself strolling the streets of New York trying to pretend I'm happy to catch up on my window shopping...alone...on New Year's Eve. And I'm wondering where my Sally comes in. When do I meet the friend that can save me from eternal lonliness in the city that never sleeps. It takes me a long time to get comfortable in a city and this time I don't have the safety net of school or friends to help me. I mean, I have a few friends but no one very close. And they're just guys. I don't know where I'm going to meet people who will want to be my friends. I feel like a kid on the first day at a new school. And it's worse than that! At least at a new school all the kids are eager to find out who you are, where you came from. You have a modicrum of mystery hanging about you. In New York no one's going to care that you're new to town. New people arrive fresh off the boat every ten seconds. I feel like I just might be the brunt of some horrible newbie practical joke; like in every movie I've ever seen when a small town girl comes to the big city to make it and instead gets kicked around by fate. Of course in those she always maintains her sense of hope and optimism and some how it all works out for her. I don't expect to be so lucky. I mean, luck can only carry me so far. I've been very lucky up until now. I've gotten a job and a place to live without even lifting a finger. I got an internship with only your average amount of input. (okay, I did have the trip from hell getting to the interview but that's only part of the comedic exposition. It's not the actual obstacle I've got to overcome. It never is.)
And so I'm left wondering if this all came just a little too easily. Will I really be given the chance of a lifetime and end up with the penthouse, the dream job and the boy after learning a valuable life lesson about the good that comes from hard work, creativity and a little hope? Or will this end like The Jungle, where he faces one hideous, life crushing blow after another but has to survive. And what about the friends? When do I make those?
I guess it does make a little sense. Except my bags aren't quite packed yet and I'm not taking a taxi or leaving on a jet plane. More like the Chinatown Express. But the sentiment is the same. Ah, John Denver. You spoke for us all when you sang those words. I'm getting ready to make the long journey north. I haven't even left yet and already I'm so lonesome I could die. All right! Enough folk singers!
But seriously, folks. I am pretty nervous. I'm going to be up there New Year's Eve and I just got finished watching "When Harry Met Sally" and envisioning myself strolling the streets of New York trying to pretend I'm happy to catch up on my window shopping...alone...on New Year's Eve. And I'm wondering where my Sally comes in. When do I meet the friend that can save me from eternal lonliness in the city that never sleeps. It takes me a long time to get comfortable in a city and this time I don't have the safety net of school or friends to help me. I mean, I have a few friends but no one very close. And they're just guys. I don't know where I'm going to meet people who will want to be my friends. I feel like a kid on the first day at a new school. And it's worse than that! At least at a new school all the kids are eager to find out who you are, where you came from. You have a modicrum of mystery hanging about you. In New York no one's going to care that you're new to town. New people arrive fresh off the boat every ten seconds. I feel like I just might be the brunt of some horrible newbie practical joke; like in every movie I've ever seen when a small town girl comes to the big city to make it and instead gets kicked around by fate. Of course in those she always maintains her sense of hope and optimism and some how it all works out for her. I don't expect to be so lucky. I mean, luck can only carry me so far. I've been very lucky up until now. I've gotten a job and a place to live without even lifting a finger. I got an internship with only your average amount of input. (okay, I did have the trip from hell getting to the interview but that's only part of the comedic exposition. It's not the actual obstacle I've got to overcome. It never is.)
And so I'm left wondering if this all came just a little too easily. Will I really be given the chance of a lifetime and end up with the penthouse, the dream job and the boy after learning a valuable life lesson about the good that comes from hard work, creativity and a little hope? Or will this end like The Jungle, where he faces one hideous, life crushing blow after another but has to survive. And what about the friends? When do I make those?
Wednesday, December 20, 2006
The End of an Era
I think I lost a friend today. My best friend of eight years and I have decided to seperate. We've practically been a lesbian couple in the last year or so. She accompanied me to IKEA, helped me put furniture together, found me jobs and counseled me through countless family issues. She's been the first person I've called when I got a job, quit a job, did something stupid, did something smart, broke up with a guy, slept with a guy, got in a fight or saw a new movie. She brought me flowers, little gifts, crossaints, made me tea, brought me sugar.
We dared each other to do ridiculous things in the name of entertainment, helped each other up when we fell, took revenge on stupid fat cows and hated the same people. For eight years she has been the most loyal friend I could imagine. She wanted to chase my ex boyfriend down the street when he pretended he didn't recognize me. I pulled her off stage when Jean Marie caused her to fall down. She cheered me up when my family and my life was falling to peices. I drove with her to Pittsburgh to meet and then end the love of her life. (Certainly not the last.) I have admired her sense of fashion, taste in music, daring and playfulness since I met her. She's the one who regaled us with stories of her European friends on French nude beaches and museum openings with famous people. She is the one responsible for my job at the Kennedy Center and subsequently my job with the Super Bowl. I owe her so much. Without her I would not be the person I am today. She opened my eyes to a world that I would not have known without her curiousity, aesthetic and kindness.
Despite our problems I always thought we'd be in for the long haul together. I imagined us sitting on a patio with our kids playing in the yard, laughing over a cup of tea about our crazy youth. Instead I think we've come to a parting in our paths. I'm moving up to New York soon and she will be coming up shortly after but New York is like a river. You never step in the same place twice. My New York experience will be different than hers, and that will only seperate us further over time if we don't share the journey.
I've been afraid of this parting for some time. I knew we were both contemplating a seperation after our disasterous trip in New York. Part of me is glad. I will finally get out from under her stylish shadow. She's been like a big sister to me and as much as I've envied her I feel like it's time to step out on my own. It's time to make friends with people not through her. All of our coolest friends have been met through her friendly advances. They're hers and I'm just lucky enough to tag along. I'm ready to quit that. I'm also ready to develop my own style without her help. She's usually right but sometimes I feel like I can't make a decision on my own without discussing it with her first. I don't feel like a complete person when I can't make up my own mind. I feel like a leech. I can start fresh in a new city with new possibilities.
But at the same time I can't believe I'm going to be losing that friend who knows me so well she can guess what my move will be and the person I know so well I can anticipate when she's going to tell that story about us on the train to Amsterdam. Or any other story. I can tell what she's thinking so often and know how she'll react to something so often that sometimes I stop myself from speaking because I don't want to hear her reaction. I know when she's feeling uncomfortable in a situation or when something reminds her of an unpleasant memory. It really is like an old marriage sometimes.
And sometimes I don't know what she's thinking at all. Sometimes when I'm being my most honest she surprises me with a reaction I had hoped we had moved past. That's when it gets me, when she's been offended by something I've said and I haven't even realized it because I thought we were on the same page. I think that's why we need this seperation. Because sometimes she can't see when she is being stubborn and hurtful, and when her pride is getting in the way. And because I don't stand up to her and say what I think. And because she gets hurt so easily by things I don't realize I've said or done. I can't take such prideful sensitivity any more. I'm tired of tiptoeing around. I'm tired of not saying what I think because it might hurt her or that we might disagree. I don't feel strong enough to withstand her reaction when I disagree.
I know this is one sided. I can't see both sides anymore. I'm tired of doubling back on myself to make sure she doesn't disagree with my thoughts. I'm too hurt by what she has said to me and by what this separation means. I'm ready though to explore what the world is like without her.
Maybe some where in the future we will come across each other and begin our friendship again. Start fresh. I'm not good at giving up both hope and a friend in the same night.
We dared each other to do ridiculous things in the name of entertainment, helped each other up when we fell, took revenge on stupid fat cows and hated the same people. For eight years she has been the most loyal friend I could imagine. She wanted to chase my ex boyfriend down the street when he pretended he didn't recognize me. I pulled her off stage when Jean Marie caused her to fall down. She cheered me up when my family and my life was falling to peices. I drove with her to Pittsburgh to meet and then end the love of her life. (Certainly not the last.) I have admired her sense of fashion, taste in music, daring and playfulness since I met her. She's the one who regaled us with stories of her European friends on French nude beaches and museum openings with famous people. She is the one responsible for my job at the Kennedy Center and subsequently my job with the Super Bowl. I owe her so much. Without her I would not be the person I am today. She opened my eyes to a world that I would not have known without her curiousity, aesthetic and kindness.
Despite our problems I always thought we'd be in for the long haul together. I imagined us sitting on a patio with our kids playing in the yard, laughing over a cup of tea about our crazy youth. Instead I think we've come to a parting in our paths. I'm moving up to New York soon and she will be coming up shortly after but New York is like a river. You never step in the same place twice. My New York experience will be different than hers, and that will only seperate us further over time if we don't share the journey.
I've been afraid of this parting for some time. I knew we were both contemplating a seperation after our disasterous trip in New York. Part of me is glad. I will finally get out from under her stylish shadow. She's been like a big sister to me and as much as I've envied her I feel like it's time to step out on my own. It's time to make friends with people not through her. All of our coolest friends have been met through her friendly advances. They're hers and I'm just lucky enough to tag along. I'm ready to quit that. I'm also ready to develop my own style without her help. She's usually right but sometimes I feel like I can't make a decision on my own without discussing it with her first. I don't feel like a complete person when I can't make up my own mind. I feel like a leech. I can start fresh in a new city with new possibilities.
But at the same time I can't believe I'm going to be losing that friend who knows me so well she can guess what my move will be and the person I know so well I can anticipate when she's going to tell that story about us on the train to Amsterdam. Or any other story. I can tell what she's thinking so often and know how she'll react to something so often that sometimes I stop myself from speaking because I don't want to hear her reaction. I know when she's feeling uncomfortable in a situation or when something reminds her of an unpleasant memory. It really is like an old marriage sometimes.
And sometimes I don't know what she's thinking at all. Sometimes when I'm being my most honest she surprises me with a reaction I had hoped we had moved past. That's when it gets me, when she's been offended by something I've said and I haven't even realized it because I thought we were on the same page. I think that's why we need this seperation. Because sometimes she can't see when she is being stubborn and hurtful, and when her pride is getting in the way. And because I don't stand up to her and say what I think. And because she gets hurt so easily by things I don't realize I've said or done. I can't take such prideful sensitivity any more. I'm tired of tiptoeing around. I'm tired of not saying what I think because it might hurt her or that we might disagree. I don't feel strong enough to withstand her reaction when I disagree.
I know this is one sided. I can't see both sides anymore. I'm tired of doubling back on myself to make sure she doesn't disagree with my thoughts. I'm too hurt by what she has said to me and by what this separation means. I'm ready though to explore what the world is like without her.
Maybe some where in the future we will come across each other and begin our friendship again. Start fresh. I'm not good at giving up both hope and a friend in the same night.
Thursday, December 14, 2006
Updates
The Kennedy Center Honors didn't stop when I quit writing. After what seemed like hours I got to go down to the gala. I had been packing boxes and pulling up taped wires and contemplating rebellion and why I shouldn't be forced to do what I was doing, I was the receptionist for God's sake! Not a bloody PA. Although I was, sort of. I just didn't want to be one then. I wanted to go mingle with Washington's finest. Finally my boss let me go and I ran so fast I almost tripped on my wedges. I wasn't going to risk him calling me back. I got some drinks and hung out with the production crew who ended up shutting down the place at the free bar. Trust a TV crew to find free booze and not let go. We "mingled" a little, if you can call it that. The foyer was so jam packed with tables that no body was sitting at and no place to walk through that it was pointless trying to get to the honorees. Besides, all the good famous people were already gone. I wanted to see Dolly or Steven or Tom. Not even Josh was left around. Disappointing, since Sam, Aja and I had hatched a plan to get Josh to come hang out with us, younger people. I did say a shy, five-year-old's hi to Aretha Franklin who was sitting down fanning herself at a table that we inched past. I think she said hi back and I didn't know what else to say. Cee Lo from Gnarls Barkley said I was sexy as I passed him. I said thank you. He was definitely on something. But I did look sexy.
Anyway, that was basically the end of it. I came in on Monday and helped the Production Coordinators finish boxing things up and waited for the vendors to come remove what we had rented from them. Soon it looked like a dance studio again. It was hard to believe what once went on here. It would have been sad if I hadn't been so exhausted. I went home and straight to bed. I wasn't doing Christmas in Washington like most everybody else and I had an interview in New York on Wednesday. I would have liked to have written about the day before it and my nervous trip up to New York, getting lost in Maryland as I tried to take Route 1 all the way and avoid boring highways and ridiculous tolls but I was too busy doing it. So I'll just relate to you the outcome. I had my interview at Tribeca Productions and looked at places to live with Aja. It was exhausting and not very productive. We came back defeated and irritated. We're going to look for seperate places.
On Friday, the day after we returned I got a call from someone in New York. I didn't know what it could be. I thought it was a rental person returning our calls. It turned out to be a job offer from a company who would be filming the Super Bowl. They had gotten my name from a lady I had worked with at the KCH and wanted to know if I would like to be their office PA in New York while they were in Miami. It would be a five week gig. I was dumbstruck. I had no idea this lady would have been so kind as to has passed on my information. It was one of the sweetest, surprising gestures I have ever received. (Except maybe for the person who paid my toll on the Pennsylvania Tollpike because I had no cash left. Thank you. ) I told them I would love the job after thinking about it for a minute but that I was waiting to hear back about something else so I wasn't certain wether I could or not. She said she would write my name down as though I was, just in case.
Now I have a bit of a delimma because I got a call from Tribeca last night saying they did want me as an intern. Great news lately, right? Then why do I feel so confused? I'm worried because I've got a paying job in a field related to the one I want and a non paying learning experience in the field I do want to be in. If I take the paid job will I forfeit the chance to work at Tribeca? Will this set me up for more television jobs when what I want to do is film? And is the Tribeca internship even what I really need to get where I want to be? Will they be kind enough to let me work around this schedule? Now that I'm writing this I feel like a complete jerk. How many people would like to be in my position right now? I have a paying job in a very cool city, one that I didn't have to lift a finger to get and an internship with a very prestigious film company. I'm going to quit complaining.
Anyway, that was basically the end of it. I came in on Monday and helped the Production Coordinators finish boxing things up and waited for the vendors to come remove what we had rented from them. Soon it looked like a dance studio again. It was hard to believe what once went on here. It would have been sad if I hadn't been so exhausted. I went home and straight to bed. I wasn't doing Christmas in Washington like most everybody else and I had an interview in New York on Wednesday. I would have liked to have written about the day before it and my nervous trip up to New York, getting lost in Maryland as I tried to take Route 1 all the way and avoid boring highways and ridiculous tolls but I was too busy doing it. So I'll just relate to you the outcome. I had my interview at Tribeca Productions and looked at places to live with Aja. It was exhausting and not very productive. We came back defeated and irritated. We're going to look for seperate places.
On Friday, the day after we returned I got a call from someone in New York. I didn't know what it could be. I thought it was a rental person returning our calls. It turned out to be a job offer from a company who would be filming the Super Bowl. They had gotten my name from a lady I had worked with at the KCH and wanted to know if I would like to be their office PA in New York while they were in Miami. It would be a five week gig. I was dumbstruck. I had no idea this lady would have been so kind as to has passed on my information. It was one of the sweetest, surprising gestures I have ever received. (Except maybe for the person who paid my toll on the Pennsylvania Tollpike because I had no cash left. Thank you. ) I told them I would love the job after thinking about it for a minute but that I was waiting to hear back about something else so I wasn't certain wether I could or not. She said she would write my name down as though I was, just in case.
Now I have a bit of a delimma because I got a call from Tribeca last night saying they did want me as an intern. Great news lately, right? Then why do I feel so confused? I'm worried because I've got a paying job in a field related to the one I want and a non paying learning experience in the field I do want to be in. If I take the paid job will I forfeit the chance to work at Tribeca? Will this set me up for more television jobs when what I want to do is film? And is the Tribeca internship even what I really need to get where I want to be? Will they be kind enough to let me work around this schedule? Now that I'm writing this I feel like a complete jerk. How many people would like to be in my position right now? I have a paying job in a very cool city, one that I didn't have to lift a finger to get and an internship with a very prestigious film company. I'm going to quit complaining.
Sunday, December 03, 2006
Cinderella at Someone Else's Ball
It feels like a grown up version of prom here tonight. Everyone is dressed up in their very best. The men in tuxedos and the women in elegant (black) dresses. I was not told about the "black" dress and so I wore the only dress I could find in my closet last night at 9:45 p.m. It's baby powder blue and one side is "ruched" meaning it is sort of gathered on the side. I altered a more boring version of the dress to make this one. I have on my cream colored 'sculpture' wedges. I look pretty good and I feel even better. Everyone has been admiring my dress.
I just went down to the stage for the Andrew Lloyd Webber segment. I wanted to be down there when Josh Groban got off stage. And to see him sing. I don't really love his songs. I wouldn't buy a CD and listen to it all the way through. But I love his voice. And Sam and I have a bit of a crush. I also have a bit of a crush on Sarah Brightman. When he came off he stood right by me and it was hard to breath. And then, after everyone went on to take their bows and came back off I got to see Betty Buckley and him and Liam Neeson. Wow. Liam. He looks pretty normal in real life. I would have just passed him by. He stood there looking a little lost. As I walked back towards the elevators, ending my magical moment back stage I passed by Shania Twain who my mom would like me to have pestered. I refrained because she looked a little orange. And dried out. And because I'd like to keep my dignity, even if my mom doesn't care.
I came back down when I had another moment and stood steps away from Reba who I think is totally cool. And she lived up to that. And Reese who is so tiny in real life. She was so delicate and sweet looking. I couldn't take my eyes off her. I take back ever thinking she looked weird and that Ryan was the better looking of the two.
And now I'm back in the office, packing up supplies and regretting my wedges. But it was all worth it for those ten minutes backstage.
And watching Jessica Simpson dig herself into a bigger hole of embarassment. She messed up somethingg during her song, 9 to 5 and started holding her stomach. I thought for a minute her top had fallen down but now I think it's just a nervous stomach. At the end she aplogized for being so nervous and nervously skipped off the stage like a five year old. What a dumbass. When she came off stage, one of the PAs told me just now she goes "FUCK" and started crying and runs off. Reese had to hold her hand during the bows. Iloveherevenmore!!
This event makes me want even more to be a success. I want, not to be on stage, but to do something. I don't want to do any more award shows. I want to be at the award shows. Even if I'm not winning or being honored. I just want to be a part. Not just the receptionist. I need to be somewhere. Will the way I've begun help me get anywhere? But I feel so ordinary. All these other people had such beginnings. I feel as though I'm completely ordinary. As if no one has ever noticed me in a way that might lead someone to think I had such potential. Or any potential for that matter. I think I might have a wee touch of jealousy and depression soon. I don't want to be the person who is helping the creative people acheive their goals. I want to be the creative person. I want to be part of a really great team. I want to be recognize, in any arena, for my creativity. Do I have enough stories to tell and enough drive to do it?
Oh, and by the way, Josh is the nicest person imaginable. It doesn't help my crush any.
I just went down to the stage for the Andrew Lloyd Webber segment. I wanted to be down there when Josh Groban got off stage. And to see him sing. I don't really love his songs. I wouldn't buy a CD and listen to it all the way through. But I love his voice. And Sam and I have a bit of a crush. I also have a bit of a crush on Sarah Brightman. When he came off he stood right by me and it was hard to breath. And then, after everyone went on to take their bows and came back off I got to see Betty Buckley and him and Liam Neeson. Wow. Liam. He looks pretty normal in real life. I would have just passed him by. He stood there looking a little lost. As I walked back towards the elevators, ending my magical moment back stage I passed by Shania Twain who my mom would like me to have pestered. I refrained because she looked a little orange. And dried out. And because I'd like to keep my dignity, even if my mom doesn't care.
I came back down when I had another moment and stood steps away from Reba who I think is totally cool. And she lived up to that. And Reese who is so tiny in real life. She was so delicate and sweet looking. I couldn't take my eyes off her. I take back ever thinking she looked weird and that Ryan was the better looking of the two.
And now I'm back in the office, packing up supplies and regretting my wedges. But it was all worth it for those ten minutes backstage.
And watching Jessica Simpson dig herself into a bigger hole of embarassment. She messed up somethingg during her song, 9 to 5 and started holding her stomach. I thought for a minute her top had fallen down but now I think it's just a nervous stomach. At the end she aplogized for being so nervous and nervously skipped off the stage like a five year old. What a dumbass. When she came off stage, one of the PAs told me just now she goes "FUCK" and started crying and runs off. Reese had to hold her hand during the bows. Iloveherevenmore!!
This event makes me want even more to be a success. I want, not to be on stage, but to do something. I don't want to do any more award shows. I want to be at the award shows. Even if I'm not winning or being honored. I just want to be a part. Not just the receptionist. I need to be somewhere. Will the way I've begun help me get anywhere? But I feel so ordinary. All these other people had such beginnings. I feel as though I'm completely ordinary. As if no one has ever noticed me in a way that might lead someone to think I had such potential. Or any potential for that matter. I think I might have a wee touch of jealousy and depression soon. I don't want to be the person who is helping the creative people acheive their goals. I want to be the creative person. I want to be part of a really great team. I want to be recognize, in any arena, for my creativity. Do I have enough stories to tell and enough drive to do it?
Oh, and by the way, Josh is the nicest person imaginable. It doesn't help my crush any.
Saturday, December 02, 2006
I can't tell you what day it is or what hotel I'm staying at but there are two trees involved
Last night I went over to Kramerbooks to get some reading material. I was staying at the Doubletree with Samantha, the director's assistant as I had to be back in the office at 7 am. The Doubletree is a few blocks away from the Kennedy Center and that means my commute is much less than the hour it usually takes.
I wanted to get back to my room by ten if I could, which meant I had thirty minutes to park, pick out a book, pay for it and then get back to the hotel by Foggy Bottom. I drove around Dupont about ten times, like a crazy person who does the exact same thing and expects a different outcome. There were young professionals out everywhere. There were groups of them walking and laughing down the street. Some of them were dressed up. Some hurried along with their cellphone pressed to their ears. I couldn't figure out why there were so many people out. Were they all coming from work? Why were they here and making my trip more difficult? Then I finally realized today was Friday and these people were going out. It's pretty depressing when you forget it's the weekend and you can count on one hand how many times you have been outside or seen your family. It's even more depressing when you realize your weekend will also be spent indoors, in the same room you have been in for the past three weeks. It only slightly seems like a light at the end of the tunnel when you realize this job will be done on Monday. I like these people. I like working on this show but I'm ready to be done. And then, without a pause I go up to New York, which I think will be fun but will also be nerve wracking and exhausting.
p.s. Sorry about the post from earlier. it was a late night. Something that the cleanliness and comfort of the Doubletree took care of. I love down beds. I'm a new person.
I wanted to get back to my room by ten if I could, which meant I had thirty minutes to park, pick out a book, pay for it and then get back to the hotel by Foggy Bottom. I drove around Dupont about ten times, like a crazy person who does the exact same thing and expects a different outcome. There were young professionals out everywhere. There were groups of them walking and laughing down the street. Some of them were dressed up. Some hurried along with their cellphone pressed to their ears. I couldn't figure out why there were so many people out. Were they all coming from work? Why were they here and making my trip more difficult? Then I finally realized today was Friday and these people were going out. It's pretty depressing when you forget it's the weekend and you can count on one hand how many times you have been outside or seen your family. It's even more depressing when you realize your weekend will also be spent indoors, in the same room you have been in for the past three weeks. It only slightly seems like a light at the end of the tunnel when you realize this job will be done on Monday. I like these people. I like working on this show but I'm ready to be done. And then, without a pause I go up to New York, which I think will be fun but will also be nerve wracking and exhausting.
p.s. Sorry about the post from earlier. it was a late night. Something that the cleanliness and comfort of the Doubletree took care of. I love down beds. I'm a new person.
Friday, December 01, 2006
12 hours and counting
I got here at 7:48 am. It is now 7:48 pm. I have been outside once. It was beautiful. Windy and wet but warm and the sky was full of clouds backlit with silver sunlight. It was my absolute favorite weather of all time. I saw it for two minutes. I wanted to run through the streets and sing joyfully. Instead I headed back into the recesses of the Kennedy Center. I need help. Please, help me. I can't do it anymore. I'm about to throw up. I want out. I give up. I give up. I don't want. I want I want I want. Sleep Sleep. No more white walled purgatory. Last night I dreamed about the phones. I DREAMED ABOUT DROPPING CALLS. This is not normal. I can't. I'm going to go puke in the bathroom. Goodbye.
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