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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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

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?

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

two fun things to do

These are my two newest favorite websites. Ze Frank and Smith Magazine. Check them out!

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.

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.

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.

"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...

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?