... mush.
Didn't sleep much last night. Not that I'm worried about tonight. Maybe anxious and anticipatory. I know "The Change-Up" is great. It was nice to have an actual crew this year and not force the actors into holding the boom, etc. But still, it's always nerve-wracking to me to have something screened. Maybe I'll get jaded enough one day to not care. In a way, I hope not.
The screenings last night were... interesting. "Buddy System" by Genesis Films was by far the best. They are the best filmmakers there. My friend, Perry's, was the best I've seen him do. The rest, with a few exceptions, were kind of average. Nothing frightfully bad, very few stand-outs.
I hope we're a stand out tonight.
In case you haven't seen the info enough, here it is again:
Fine Arts Theatre
8556 Wilshire Blvd.
Beverly Hills, CA 90211
phone: (310) 360-0455
$10
Please come and join me if you can.
Saturday, June 30, 2007
Wednesday, June 27, 2007
More 48 Hour Madness
So, a couple of days later, I'm still trying to recover from the 48 Hour Film Project. It was a tough year, with only a few hours sleep between Friday morning and 2 AM Sunday night. I’ll write a longer blog with details as soon as I can find the time. Here are pics from the weekend, including our ill-fated journey into the park.
In the meantime, the end of the race concluded with thinking we had technical problems with our DVD submission and almost not submitting it on time because of this. Peter Fox, the organizer, insisted I turn in whatever we had and turn in a “late” entry later that night just in case. Dave very kindly let me utilize all his technology at his office, helped me get a good DVD burned and I dropped that off at midnight as a “late” entry. Long story short, the first DVD appears to be fine so we made the deadline and qualify for awards.
I screened both the “48 Hour” cut (just about 7 minutes) and the director’s cut (around 9 minutes) last night for select folks at the Ark and the overall response was very good to both of them. I think this is probably the best of the three 48 Hour films I’ve shot, if not the best thing I’ve shot. The beauty of working with professionals, both as writers and as cast/crew, is that things just get done. No one bitches and moans, egos are checked at the door, the cast does their homework, and we can get everything done in a timely manner. We really shot only about 5 ½ hours after all the chaos of losing our location. The actors jumped right in to the rewrite and got the very delicate tone of the piece. Think Tarrantino meets Soderbergh. Could have easily slipped into over-done but they found the perfect balance of zany but grounded.
Beth, as always, was a shot or two ahead so I didn’t have to think about much. She has to sign a contract in blood with me to not move back to Alaska and to never work for anyone else when I need her. I cannot wait to do “The Wraith” with her.
And my writing team was exquisite. Dave and Monica are possibly two of the most clever people I have ever worked with. The dynamic and the respect amongst us allowed us to disagree on points of view and yet continue to work productively. I LOVE this script. LOVE, LOVE, LOVE IT. And, consequently, I LOVE this film. “The Change-Up” is what it’s called, by the way.
The official screening is this Saturday, June 30 at 6:30 PM. If you want to join us, please go to www.48hourfilm.com/la to buy tickets online. Buy ‘em quick, they will sell out.
What this weekend did do for me is make me once again realize that there is no Plan B. I will never be a program director for Mission: Renaissance, as much as I love the job and the work. I am not even going to begin the training for that because I don’t want to waste their time or mine. I am a director. I am “weirdly driven”, as Dave described me nearing midnight on Sunday as we tried to finish the DVD. This is what I want to do, this is what I’m destined to do, and that’s all there is. I am so grateful to be reminded of this often so I don’t get distracted.
Whew. So, I take a breath and tonight start rehearsal for a new play I’m directing. I should have taken a few days off but, oh, well.
Here we go!
In the meantime, the end of the race concluded with thinking we had technical problems with our DVD submission and almost not submitting it on time because of this. Peter Fox, the organizer, insisted I turn in whatever we had and turn in a “late” entry later that night just in case. Dave very kindly let me utilize all his technology at his office, helped me get a good DVD burned and I dropped that off at midnight as a “late” entry. Long story short, the first DVD appears to be fine so we made the deadline and qualify for awards.
I screened both the “48 Hour” cut (just about 7 minutes) and the director’s cut (around 9 minutes) last night for select folks at the Ark and the overall response was very good to both of them. I think this is probably the best of the three 48 Hour films I’ve shot, if not the best thing I’ve shot. The beauty of working with professionals, both as writers and as cast/crew, is that things just get done. No one bitches and moans, egos are checked at the door, the cast does their homework, and we can get everything done in a timely manner. We really shot only about 5 ½ hours after all the chaos of losing our location. The actors jumped right in to the rewrite and got the very delicate tone of the piece. Think Tarrantino meets Soderbergh. Could have easily slipped into over-done but they found the perfect balance of zany but grounded.
Beth, as always, was a shot or two ahead so I didn’t have to think about much. She has to sign a contract in blood with me to not move back to Alaska and to never work for anyone else when I need her. I cannot wait to do “The Wraith” with her.
And my writing team was exquisite. Dave and Monica are possibly two of the most clever people I have ever worked with. The dynamic and the respect amongst us allowed us to disagree on points of view and yet continue to work productively. I LOVE this script. LOVE, LOVE, LOVE IT. And, consequently, I LOVE this film. “The Change-Up” is what it’s called, by the way.
The official screening is this Saturday, June 30 at 6:30 PM. If you want to join us, please go to www.48hourfilm.com/la to buy tickets online. Buy ‘em quick, they will sell out.
What this weekend did do for me is make me once again realize that there is no Plan B. I will never be a program director for Mission: Renaissance, as much as I love the job and the work. I am not even going to begin the training for that because I don’t want to waste their time or mine. I am a director. I am “weirdly driven”, as Dave described me nearing midnight on Sunday as we tried to finish the DVD. This is what I want to do, this is what I’m destined to do, and that’s all there is. I am so grateful to be reminded of this often so I don’t get distracted.
Whew. So, I take a breath and tonight start rehearsal for a new play I’m directing. I should have taken a few days off but, oh, well.
Here we go!
Sunday, June 24, 2007
A very long 48 hours...
...and it's not over.
Started out well. Peter went with me to the kick-off event, Dave and Monica and I had been brainstorming via internet for a few days and I even had a lunch with Perry, who got me addictd in the first place.
I drew "buddy film." Hmmmm. Actually, pretty good genre, we had a couple of things we could bend that way.
Had a delicious dinner late Friday night with Dave and Monica as we fleshed out the script, which was tentatively entitled "Double Depth". Very fun night filled with way too many movie reference, very good Italian food and a carafe of chianti. We worked until 1;30 in the morning, Monica crashing on my floor, Dave staggering home.
Got up at 7, checked out a series of locations in a nearby park. Guerilla filmmaking at its best. Until the park ranger caught us around 3:30, just as we were really getting started (another story but later) and threw us out. I was losing most of my cast around 6, so we didn't have time to find somewhere else, even though we tried. I finally made the very difficult decision to scrap the plan for the park and sent everyone on their way.
Dave, Monica and I met over near the Ark Theatre, figuring we could rewrite, everyone was willing to come back late night and film SOMETHING! So, several hours and a coffee drink or two later, we had rewritten a very good, very tight script and made it even better. Don't ask me how.
I went over to the Ark to see "Soda Pop" and waited for the cast/crew to arrive around 10:30. We got our first shot off at midnight. It's now 5:21 AM and I just got home. i have to now edit and put together a coherent film. Beth, Peter, and maybe Dave are coming by later to help finish things up. I have to turn this in by 7:30 tonight.
I hope to grab a nap in there somewhere as I am exhausted.
My crew rocked - Patty, Caroline, Erin X., Zachary, Erik, Meagan, Renae, Travis, and anyone else i missed.
I love my DP, Beth Wallan. Hire her - but only wen I don't need her.
My amazing cast - Peter Ross Stephens, one of my favorite collaborators, Tricia Pierce, wildly funny, Kerr Lordygan, who gave Tricia a run for her money in the funny department, and Erin Trainor, who jumped in at the last minute and was terrific.
Finally, possibly the best writing experience I have ever had with Monica Hafer and Dave Smith. Somehow, between movie quotes, comic book conversation and just plain silliness, we managed to find a very great script to write. I could have never written something like this on my own.
So, at this almost done point, I am once again humbled by the talent around me, grateful for the crew that surrounded me and overwhelmed by the respect and friendship shown to me.
Now, maybe I'll grab an hour's nap and try to get the edit started!
Started out well. Peter went with me to the kick-off event, Dave and Monica and I had been brainstorming via internet for a few days and I even had a lunch with Perry, who got me addictd in the first place.
I drew "buddy film." Hmmmm. Actually, pretty good genre, we had a couple of things we could bend that way.
Had a delicious dinner late Friday night with Dave and Monica as we fleshed out the script, which was tentatively entitled "Double Depth". Very fun night filled with way too many movie reference, very good Italian food and a carafe of chianti. We worked until 1;30 in the morning, Monica crashing on my floor, Dave staggering home.
Got up at 7, checked out a series of locations in a nearby park. Guerilla filmmaking at its best. Until the park ranger caught us around 3:30, just as we were really getting started (another story but later) and threw us out. I was losing most of my cast around 6, so we didn't have time to find somewhere else, even though we tried. I finally made the very difficult decision to scrap the plan for the park and sent everyone on their way.
Dave, Monica and I met over near the Ark Theatre, figuring we could rewrite, everyone was willing to come back late night and film SOMETHING! So, several hours and a coffee drink or two later, we had rewritten a very good, very tight script and made it even better. Don't ask me how.
I went over to the Ark to see "Soda Pop" and waited for the cast/crew to arrive around 10:30. We got our first shot off at midnight. It's now 5:21 AM and I just got home. i have to now edit and put together a coherent film. Beth, Peter, and maybe Dave are coming by later to help finish things up. I have to turn this in by 7:30 tonight.
I hope to grab a nap in there somewhere as I am exhausted.
My crew rocked - Patty, Caroline, Erin X., Zachary, Erik, Meagan, Renae, Travis, and anyone else i missed.
I love my DP, Beth Wallan. Hire her - but only wen I don't need her.
My amazing cast - Peter Ross Stephens, one of my favorite collaborators, Tricia Pierce, wildly funny, Kerr Lordygan, who gave Tricia a run for her money in the funny department, and Erin Trainor, who jumped in at the last minute and was terrific.
Finally, possibly the best writing experience I have ever had with Monica Hafer and Dave Smith. Somehow, between movie quotes, comic book conversation and just plain silliness, we managed to find a very great script to write. I could have never written something like this on my own.
So, at this almost done point, I am once again humbled by the talent around me, grateful for the crew that surrounded me and overwhelmed by the respect and friendship shown to me.
Now, maybe I'll grab an hour's nap and try to get the edit started!
Saturday, June 23, 2007
48 Hour Film - first part done
Just finished writing the script to shoot in five hours. Monica and Dave rock! Of course, it's 2 AM and we laughed until we cried almost.
I hope it's just as funny when we get up and read it in a few hours.
Here's to shooting today!
I hope it's just as funny when we get up and read it in a few hours.
Here's to shooting today!
Thursday, June 21, 2007
Fear of...
I’m actually scared.
I don’t know why. I know how to do this. I’ve been doing it long enough. I am confident in what I do and how I do it.
Maybe I’ve put too much pressure on myself with wanting to do something good enough to get us to San Francisco. Maybe I’m just putting too much pressure on myself to not only do the best short film I can do, but to outdo myself so I don’t let anybody down.
The first two years, I felt like there was just me, and maybe my dearest Chairman, who was my rock way back then, to be let down if this didn’t work. Sure, I’d disappoint the other actors and crew and it’s not that everybody wasn’t invested in it. But if I fell on my face, I felt like I would only be letting myself and maybe Chairman down. I wouldn’t be letting anyone else down because, after all, it’s only a 48 hour film.
But this year feels different. I have a writing team, Monica and Dave, whose talents I adore. I think they’re a good match for me. And Peter is going to the kick-off with me and I know he’ll be there for anything and everything I need and I’m really glad for that because I’m really missing my partner in crime right now since he has chosen to make himself scarce in my life.
Maybe it’s just that. I’ve done two of these with someone there who I felt like was a partner for these things. And he’s not there this year. And I feel his absence, as a collaborator and as a friend. He is a huge hole in my life right now and that is incredibly hard.
And this time around, there feels like there is so much at stake. I want to make the top 10. I want to take my team to San Francisco. And if we don’t make it, I will have failed. I realize, of course, I have no control over it and sometimes the people who judge these things make really inconceivable decisions. I know that, no matter what, my film will be better than probably 60% of them, of that I have confidence.
But I feel like I could let so many people down if I fail. Monica and Dave, Peter, Tricia and Erin and Patty and all the others who have thrown their hat into the ring with me this time. They’ll be supportive and encouraging, no matter what. But I want to make them proud because of everything they have done for me and how much they have absolute faith in me.
The first two years, I went in blindly. The first year especially, and I had two of the four pieces of my heart there, which made it so much easier. One of those pieces is forever gone from me and that makes this hard because, despite everything, I actually miss him. Yes, he can be difficult and he can be a little nuts, but he is so talented and so passionate and so… just so. CL, I hope you’re finding what you’re seeking in your life.
Last year, I had two other pieces of my heart there (one of whom is still hanging around this year) and that made it so much easier.
This year, I am acutely aware that I have lost a lot in the past two years. Maybe it’s because this film always marks the decision to end my marriage. Yes, there were many things leading up to it but this project is what made me choose. And looking back over these two years, I can see what I’ve accomplished and those who have been there for those accomplishments. I can see where I came from and, for now, I can see where I’m going.
But I also see a lot of regrets, things I’ve fucked up, relationships I have somehow managed to ruin, goals I’ve set that I haven’t achieved and so many things I wish I hadn’t done. I can’t fix the and I know that. But, added to other things, it makes this film hard this year.
I know I have the most incredible support and I’m excited to be working with this incredibly talented bunch of people. I am always humbled when they drop everything to leap off the cliff with me. While I know my vision and my talent are what shape this project, without their talents and their abilities and their simple trust in me, nothing I do would be as good as it is.
So I hope this has exorcised my fears for the night. I am pretty sure that I won’t get much sleep because that’s just the way it is as I go into anything like this. I hope I will find myself sitting up at 3 a.m., my brain full of ideas for the weekend, making lists of what has to be done and how to get it done, some loglines for what we could write, handling whatever prep I can do for this, and I hope that’s all I find at 3 a.m. I know I’ll feel better when I see Peter tomorrow at the kick-off and I know that Dave, Monica and I will write a killer script. And I am pretty confident we have a shot at San Francisco. But I am going to concentrate on the now and the top 10 can come next week.
Send us good vibes, good hopes and good prayers for a successful shoot.
Thanks to my very talented collaborators. You guys rock my world on a daily basis and you make me proud every time we work together. I’ll see you very soon!
I don’t know why. I know how to do this. I’ve been doing it long enough. I am confident in what I do and how I do it.
Maybe I’ve put too much pressure on myself with wanting to do something good enough to get us to San Francisco. Maybe I’m just putting too much pressure on myself to not only do the best short film I can do, but to outdo myself so I don’t let anybody down.
The first two years, I felt like there was just me, and maybe my dearest Chairman, who was my rock way back then, to be let down if this didn’t work. Sure, I’d disappoint the other actors and crew and it’s not that everybody wasn’t invested in it. But if I fell on my face, I felt like I would only be letting myself and maybe Chairman down. I wouldn’t be letting anyone else down because, after all, it’s only a 48 hour film.
But this year feels different. I have a writing team, Monica and Dave, whose talents I adore. I think they’re a good match for me. And Peter is going to the kick-off with me and I know he’ll be there for anything and everything I need and I’m really glad for that because I’m really missing my partner in crime right now since he has chosen to make himself scarce in my life.
Maybe it’s just that. I’ve done two of these with someone there who I felt like was a partner for these things. And he’s not there this year. And I feel his absence, as a collaborator and as a friend. He is a huge hole in my life right now and that is incredibly hard.
And this time around, there feels like there is so much at stake. I want to make the top 10. I want to take my team to San Francisco. And if we don’t make it, I will have failed. I realize, of course, I have no control over it and sometimes the people who judge these things make really inconceivable decisions. I know that, no matter what, my film will be better than probably 60% of them, of that I have confidence.
But I feel like I could let so many people down if I fail. Monica and Dave, Peter, Tricia and Erin and Patty and all the others who have thrown their hat into the ring with me this time. They’ll be supportive and encouraging, no matter what. But I want to make them proud because of everything they have done for me and how much they have absolute faith in me.
The first two years, I went in blindly. The first year especially, and I had two of the four pieces of my heart there, which made it so much easier. One of those pieces is forever gone from me and that makes this hard because, despite everything, I actually miss him. Yes, he can be difficult and he can be a little nuts, but he is so talented and so passionate and so… just so. CL, I hope you’re finding what you’re seeking in your life.
Last year, I had two other pieces of my heart there (one of whom is still hanging around this year) and that made it so much easier.
This year, I am acutely aware that I have lost a lot in the past two years. Maybe it’s because this film always marks the decision to end my marriage. Yes, there were many things leading up to it but this project is what made me choose. And looking back over these two years, I can see what I’ve accomplished and those who have been there for those accomplishments. I can see where I came from and, for now, I can see where I’m going.
But I also see a lot of regrets, things I’ve fucked up, relationships I have somehow managed to ruin, goals I’ve set that I haven’t achieved and so many things I wish I hadn’t done. I can’t fix the and I know that. But, added to other things, it makes this film hard this year.
I know I have the most incredible support and I’m excited to be working with this incredibly talented bunch of people. I am always humbled when they drop everything to leap off the cliff with me. While I know my vision and my talent are what shape this project, without their talents and their abilities and their simple trust in me, nothing I do would be as good as it is.
So I hope this has exorcised my fears for the night. I am pretty sure that I won’t get much sleep because that’s just the way it is as I go into anything like this. I hope I will find myself sitting up at 3 a.m., my brain full of ideas for the weekend, making lists of what has to be done and how to get it done, some loglines for what we could write, handling whatever prep I can do for this, and I hope that’s all I find at 3 a.m. I know I’ll feel better when I see Peter tomorrow at the kick-off and I know that Dave, Monica and I will write a killer script. And I am pretty confident we have a shot at San Francisco. But I am going to concentrate on the now and the top 10 can come next week.
Send us good vibes, good hopes and good prayers for a successful shoot.
Thanks to my very talented collaborators. You guys rock my world on a daily basis and you make me proud every time we work together. I’ll see you very soon!
Monday, June 18, 2007
Okay, if I can't have sex...
... and I can't have an Iphone...
...can I have this...?
Here's the article from the LA Times.
Do I qualify for my honorary penis now?
(Hm.... maybe that's why I'm not having sex....)
...can I have this...?
Here's the article from the LA Times.
Do I qualify for my honorary penis now?
(Hm.... maybe that's why I'm not having sex....)
Sunday, June 17, 2007
Friday, June 15, 2007
F*** Plan B.
Let me start by saying I love my job at M:R teaching kids. Love it, love it, love it. I look forward to teaching every day that I do. I mean, I get to dress casual, I get to play with the kids, I get to skip at work. I have never skipped at work.
But today, I had a big realization. I love directing more.
With the 48 Hour Film Project looming next week, I’m looking at everything for inspiration to write the best script, the one that will land me in the top 10 so I can compete in San Francisco in September (if you don’t know the details, check out 48 hour film website). So I went to mediocre sketch comedy last night with Anna B., suffered through some drunken ranting and then one of the guys said something that triggered an idea, which I passed along today to my two cohorts for this year’s film. Monica responded about how much she liked the idea, etc. Dave then started on this very funny tangent that started off as nothing more than innocuous kidding between friends but then the idea grew and grew, still silly and funny, but I can see the possibilities for it. It’s all I’ve thought about since then. We went back and forth numerous times, joking about how to approach this idea (Monica, I’ll fill you in when I see you Saturday). After about an hour of intermittent emails about ideas, I had to pack up and get out to Northridge to teach. I struggled because we were on this very funny tangent and things were moving as quickly as email would let them move (he was at work, I was getting ready for work). I showered and headed off to work.
On the way, all I could think of was this idea and how to make it work. That’s when it hit me. I didn’t want to go and teach. I wanted to spend the rest of the afternoon emailing ideas back and forth, fleshing out this idea as much as we could without breaking the rules, and see what else could come from this flow going on. I wanted to call Dave and say, hey, let’s get together after you’re off work and see what else we can come up with. Let’s call Monica and start brainstorming. Let’s keep going.
I have been enjoying this “pay the rent” job so much that this thought has been creeping in more and more – this will be a great Plan B if the directing thing doesn’t work out. I’ll go through the training to be a program director at my own studio – JUST IN CASE. I’ll see how far I get before my directing career takes off JUST IN CASE. I’ll do a great job and really soak everything up JUST IN CASE. Because I may not have a directing career. I might be doing the same thing I am now in five years so this is the perfect Plan B job JUST IN CASE.
Well, fuck just in case and Plan B. I want Plan A. In a year, I want to be making pay-the-rent money with my Plan A. I want to have “Cinderella” coming out in release. I want to have word of mouth on “The Wraith” tearing up the wires. I want to have my next film planned and financed, including my fee for it. I want Plan B. I don’t want JUST IN CASE.
I am a director. That’s what I am. I write only so I can direct. I work only so that I can direct. It is who I am. Part of me is an artist and I certainly am not about to quit the “pay the rent” job. But I cannot allow myself to think “maybe the directing thing won’t work out.” It has to. Because there is nothing else. If this doesn’t succeed, I have nothing else that will fill me as much as this will.
So in that vein, this is what I want:
1. Make my living directing. Anything. Everything. Film. TV. Theatre. Commercials. Will direct for food.
2. Find someone to be with who appreciates, respects and understands that.
3. My Plan B to be my own art – my jewelry and my accessory line. Then I’ll sell it for more money than I could ever imagine. To finance my directing habit.
4. My own place within the next year. Of course, it would have to be in the same building as my parents so I could still be a few feet away but could have my own place. Financed by – say it with me – my directing career.
5. The condo in my vision – on the beach, very zen, very elegant, very peaceful, filled with music and song and love and art of every sort. With that voice I can hear singing in the next room, making me smile while I sit in my favorite chair, looking out the window at the foggy ocean, inhaling that clean beautiful scent, while he’s doing whatever he is doing, singing and laughing and calling to me to come and see what he’s doing.
6. A classic Mustang. Fully restored.
7. The life I see but can’t reach just yet.
That’s all.
But today, I had a big realization. I love directing more.
With the 48 Hour Film Project looming next week, I’m looking at everything for inspiration to write the best script, the one that will land me in the top 10 so I can compete in San Francisco in September (if you don’t know the details, check out 48 hour film website). So I went to mediocre sketch comedy last night with Anna B., suffered through some drunken ranting and then one of the guys said something that triggered an idea, which I passed along today to my two cohorts for this year’s film. Monica responded about how much she liked the idea, etc. Dave then started on this very funny tangent that started off as nothing more than innocuous kidding between friends but then the idea grew and grew, still silly and funny, but I can see the possibilities for it. It’s all I’ve thought about since then. We went back and forth numerous times, joking about how to approach this idea (Monica, I’ll fill you in when I see you Saturday). After about an hour of intermittent emails about ideas, I had to pack up and get out to Northridge to teach. I struggled because we were on this very funny tangent and things were moving as quickly as email would let them move (he was at work, I was getting ready for work). I showered and headed off to work.
On the way, all I could think of was this idea and how to make it work. That’s when it hit me. I didn’t want to go and teach. I wanted to spend the rest of the afternoon emailing ideas back and forth, fleshing out this idea as much as we could without breaking the rules, and see what else could come from this flow going on. I wanted to call Dave and say, hey, let’s get together after you’re off work and see what else we can come up with. Let’s call Monica and start brainstorming. Let’s keep going.
I have been enjoying this “pay the rent” job so much that this thought has been creeping in more and more – this will be a great Plan B if the directing thing doesn’t work out. I’ll go through the training to be a program director at my own studio – JUST IN CASE. I’ll see how far I get before my directing career takes off JUST IN CASE. I’ll do a great job and really soak everything up JUST IN CASE. Because I may not have a directing career. I might be doing the same thing I am now in five years so this is the perfect Plan B job JUST IN CASE.
Well, fuck just in case and Plan B. I want Plan A. In a year, I want to be making pay-the-rent money with my Plan A. I want to have “Cinderella” coming out in release. I want to have word of mouth on “The Wraith” tearing up the wires. I want to have my next film planned and financed, including my fee for it. I want Plan B. I don’t want JUST IN CASE.
I am a director. That’s what I am. I write only so I can direct. I work only so that I can direct. It is who I am. Part of me is an artist and I certainly am not about to quit the “pay the rent” job. But I cannot allow myself to think “maybe the directing thing won’t work out.” It has to. Because there is nothing else. If this doesn’t succeed, I have nothing else that will fill me as much as this will.
So in that vein, this is what I want:
1. Make my living directing. Anything. Everything. Film. TV. Theatre. Commercials. Will direct for food.
2. Find someone to be with who appreciates, respects and understands that.
3. My Plan B to be my own art – my jewelry and my accessory line. Then I’ll sell it for more money than I could ever imagine. To finance my directing habit.
4. My own place within the next year. Of course, it would have to be in the same building as my parents so I could still be a few feet away but could have my own place. Financed by – say it with me – my directing career.
5. The condo in my vision – on the beach, very zen, very elegant, very peaceful, filled with music and song and love and art of every sort. With that voice I can hear singing in the next room, making me smile while I sit in my favorite chair, looking out the window at the foggy ocean, inhaling that clean beautiful scent, while he’s doing whatever he is doing, singing and laughing and calling to me to come and see what he’s doing.
6. A classic Mustang. Fully restored.
7. The life I see but can’t reach just yet.
That’s all.
Monday, June 11, 2007
Friday, June 08, 2007
Begin again.
I am going to try to begin today by letting go.
Letting go of things I wished and wanted and needed and pined for that are not there. Letting go of anger and frustration and aggravation over things I cannot control. Letting go of my past, both recent and long ago, and trying to focus on the future.
Letting go of what I thought my life would be with him, whichever one he is. Letting go of holding on, waiting for something, anything to tell me what to do.
I took a leap of faith almost two years ago but I don’t think I ever got off the ledge. I think I’ve spent too much time there recently.
Today, I am going to try to begin by letting go.
Letting go of things I wished and wanted and needed and pined for that are not there. Letting go of anger and frustration and aggravation over things I cannot control. Letting go of my past, both recent and long ago, and trying to focus on the future.
Letting go of what I thought my life would be with him, whichever one he is. Letting go of holding on, waiting for something, anything to tell me what to do.
I took a leap of faith almost two years ago but I don’t think I ever got off the ledge. I think I’ve spent too much time there recently.
Today, I am going to try to begin by letting go.
Creating a life...
There are no directions for starting over. Just when I think I’ve got it figured out, I realize how much I don’t have anything figured out.
The professional life recreating was easy. I knew what I wanted, I knew what path to take, I knew how to get there. I’m thrilled with where things are going on that side of my life. In fact, it looks like I have my first PAID directing gig coming up very soon. That part of my life couldn’t be better.
It’s the personal side that we’re not given directions for, particularly starting over at 45. Society is created based on a very old system – when you reach a certain age, you look for someone to pair up with then you spend the rest of your life making plans with that person. Plans for an engagement, then a wedding, then children, then college, then their engagement, then their weddings, then your retirement and then your death. Marriages are just figuring out plans forever.
When I got divorced at 25, it was easier. I was more open to meeting someone else, figuring I’d find someone to make plans with again. And I did. And we did. We had plans. I got over losing the plans I had made with my first husband because I found someone else to make plans with.
Then at 43, I lost that planning buddy because his plans and my plans no longer fit together. And I had plans. Boy, did I have plans.
But I didn’t realize until I was on my own that my plans were only on the professional side. I thought that was all I needed. After all, Susan, the director, was who I was. I was (and am) a director. But I forgot something. I was also Susan, the woman, who needed more than just professional plans.
I think I fell in love with the OOMA mainly because he was the person I was making plans with. For his birthday trip almost immediately after being on my own (although it was supposed to be a big bunch of making plans for that), planning for professional things he was doing with me, planning to see bands and plays and friends and parties. Plans for things he wanted to do and professional things he wanted to create. It felt like what I was supposed to do – find someone, make plans with them. I think we both got caught up in having someone to make plans with and that felt great and real and like what we were supposed to do. Maybe we both fell in love with that – the having someone to make plans with – as opposed to the person we were making the plans with. Maybe he realized it sooner than I did. Maybe I’m just realizing it now. That’s why I miss him being around so much – I miss planning with him.
Because without the OOMA, I have to make plans only for myself. And I don’t know how to do that. We’re not taught to do that. Neither men nor women are taught to make plans for ourselves after about 30 years of age because by then, we’re supposed to be in our permanent planning partnerships and never need to worry about planning for ourselves again.
But in an age when more than 50% of marriages end in divorce, self-planning is becoming a necessity. But no one is showing us how to do that. No one says, wow, that’s cool that you’re making plans to go to Mexico this year by yourself, for yourself, with some friends. It’s, “oh, you’re going to Mexico alone? Oh, you’re going with friends. That’s… nice. So have you been dating? Oh. Why not?”
I don’t know how to plan the rest of my life. I keep thinking I have to find someone to plan things with, otherwise how do I know if I’m making the right plans? I mean, god forbid I should make plans for myself, then find someone to plan with, and discover that he already has plans for himself. How do we make our plans fit together? And how do I plan for just me? In both my marriages, I thought I had to put everything for me aside so that I could be free to plan for them. After all, despite being a very liberated woman raised by a liberated mother, I still thought my job was to be standing behind my man, making his plans, making sure his plans happened, making our plans and then, somewhere after all of that, my plans came.
I don’t know how to make my plans the most important thing in my life. I still find myself wanting to make my plans around what the OOMA is doing because he’s the closest thing I have to someone to make plans with. And that’s just dumb. Because he’s making plans without me. He seems to be able to do that. After all, he’s been doing it a lot longer than I have.
I just don’t know what I want to plan. I mean, I’ve never really thought about just me, only me. Two years after I left my husband, I’m just figuring out that I’m at sea with what I want my life to be. I have a vague notion, mostly tied into my professional life. But I can’t see what plans I want in my personal life. They always seem to come back to – I want someone to make plans with.
I know I want to travel. But travel by myself? Is that what I want? No. I want to share Mexico with someone who will stand on the top of the Pyramid of the Sun with me, his arm around me, smiling down at me and saying, I’m glad we did this, happy 45 years. Someone to make plans with for the next 45 years. I want a home on the beach with wide, open, tall windows so I can curl up in a chair and stare out at the ocean, listen to its breath, take in its glory and peace. But I hear his voice in the other room, singing in that beautiful tone he has, thinking about what we’re doing that night. Again, making plans with someone. I know I want to be happy. That sounds simple. But there’s always the codicil that there has to be someone there to make me happy, to be happy with.
Two years later and I still can’t see myself for just me yet. I thought I could. I thought I did. But I realize more and more that I can’t and I haven’t. I have to learn to plan for just me. Then maybe I can open my life to someone else’s Dayrunner.
I wonder if Franklin Covey makes a planner for this?
The professional life recreating was easy. I knew what I wanted, I knew what path to take, I knew how to get there. I’m thrilled with where things are going on that side of my life. In fact, it looks like I have my first PAID directing gig coming up very soon. That part of my life couldn’t be better.
It’s the personal side that we’re not given directions for, particularly starting over at 45. Society is created based on a very old system – when you reach a certain age, you look for someone to pair up with then you spend the rest of your life making plans with that person. Plans for an engagement, then a wedding, then children, then college, then their engagement, then their weddings, then your retirement and then your death. Marriages are just figuring out plans forever.
When I got divorced at 25, it was easier. I was more open to meeting someone else, figuring I’d find someone to make plans with again. And I did. And we did. We had plans. I got over losing the plans I had made with my first husband because I found someone else to make plans with.
Then at 43, I lost that planning buddy because his plans and my plans no longer fit together. And I had plans. Boy, did I have plans.
But I didn’t realize until I was on my own that my plans were only on the professional side. I thought that was all I needed. After all, Susan, the director, was who I was. I was (and am) a director. But I forgot something. I was also Susan, the woman, who needed more than just professional plans.
I think I fell in love with the OOMA mainly because he was the person I was making plans with. For his birthday trip almost immediately after being on my own (although it was supposed to be a big bunch of making plans for that), planning for professional things he was doing with me, planning to see bands and plays and friends and parties. Plans for things he wanted to do and professional things he wanted to create. It felt like what I was supposed to do – find someone, make plans with them. I think we both got caught up in having someone to make plans with and that felt great and real and like what we were supposed to do. Maybe we both fell in love with that – the having someone to make plans with – as opposed to the person we were making the plans with. Maybe he realized it sooner than I did. Maybe I’m just realizing it now. That’s why I miss him being around so much – I miss planning with him.
Because without the OOMA, I have to make plans only for myself. And I don’t know how to do that. We’re not taught to do that. Neither men nor women are taught to make plans for ourselves after about 30 years of age because by then, we’re supposed to be in our permanent planning partnerships and never need to worry about planning for ourselves again.
But in an age when more than 50% of marriages end in divorce, self-planning is becoming a necessity. But no one is showing us how to do that. No one says, wow, that’s cool that you’re making plans to go to Mexico this year by yourself, for yourself, with some friends. It’s, “oh, you’re going to Mexico alone? Oh, you’re going with friends. That’s… nice. So have you been dating? Oh. Why not?”
I don’t know how to plan the rest of my life. I keep thinking I have to find someone to plan things with, otherwise how do I know if I’m making the right plans? I mean, god forbid I should make plans for myself, then find someone to plan with, and discover that he already has plans for himself. How do we make our plans fit together? And how do I plan for just me? In both my marriages, I thought I had to put everything for me aside so that I could be free to plan for them. After all, despite being a very liberated woman raised by a liberated mother, I still thought my job was to be standing behind my man, making his plans, making sure his plans happened, making our plans and then, somewhere after all of that, my plans came.
I don’t know how to make my plans the most important thing in my life. I still find myself wanting to make my plans around what the OOMA is doing because he’s the closest thing I have to someone to make plans with. And that’s just dumb. Because he’s making plans without me. He seems to be able to do that. After all, he’s been doing it a lot longer than I have.
I just don’t know what I want to plan. I mean, I’ve never really thought about just me, only me. Two years after I left my husband, I’m just figuring out that I’m at sea with what I want my life to be. I have a vague notion, mostly tied into my professional life. But I can’t see what plans I want in my personal life. They always seem to come back to – I want someone to make plans with.
I know I want to travel. But travel by myself? Is that what I want? No. I want to share Mexico with someone who will stand on the top of the Pyramid of the Sun with me, his arm around me, smiling down at me and saying, I’m glad we did this, happy 45 years. Someone to make plans with for the next 45 years. I want a home on the beach with wide, open, tall windows so I can curl up in a chair and stare out at the ocean, listen to its breath, take in its glory and peace. But I hear his voice in the other room, singing in that beautiful tone he has, thinking about what we’re doing that night. Again, making plans with someone. I know I want to be happy. That sounds simple. But there’s always the codicil that there has to be someone there to make me happy, to be happy with.
Two years later and I still can’t see myself for just me yet. I thought I could. I thought I did. But I realize more and more that I can’t and I haven’t. I have to learn to plan for just me. Then maybe I can open my life to someone else’s Dayrunner.
I wonder if Franklin Covey makes a planner for this?
Wednesday, June 06, 2007
Eternal Spotless Mind
Would I erase you if I could, just to release some of my heart? And what would I erase? Your birthdays, which were so special, at least to me. The couple of trips we took, not as a couple, but as very good friends. Singing, dancing. Working together. Watching you work. Those late night dinners and midnight conversations. All the music. Wow, all the music. I’d have to erase half my Ipod.
What would that accomplish? Relieve some of the pain, some of the doubt, some of the “what ifs”. Make me stop missing you in my life. Make me let go of that piece of my heart so maybe I can give it to someone else to do exactly the same thing to it.
Would it be worth letting those wonderful memories go just to let go of some of the pain? Or would it hurt more to not have those memories, to lose that part of myself that lived so fully and so perfectly in the moment in those times?
Guess only time will tell as all of this fades into memory and we grow further apart and you fade from my life. I’ll look back and think fondly of those vague days of singing and acting and just talking and just being and scrubbing your bathroom. I’ll laugh and say, “Wow, I remember that, kind of. That was nice, I think. He was a nice guy and was very special – for such a short time.”
Like most of the men in my life, I thought you’d be around forever. And like most, I guess I was wrong. I guess there will be more that will fade, leaving me with fondness and warm times locked in my head.
What would that accomplish? Relieve some of the pain, some of the doubt, some of the “what ifs”. Make me stop missing you in my life. Make me let go of that piece of my heart so maybe I can give it to someone else to do exactly the same thing to it.
Would it be worth letting those wonderful memories go just to let go of some of the pain? Or would it hurt more to not have those memories, to lose that part of myself that lived so fully and so perfectly in the moment in those times?
Guess only time will tell as all of this fades into memory and we grow further apart and you fade from my life. I’ll look back and think fondly of those vague days of singing and acting and just talking and just being and scrubbing your bathroom. I’ll laugh and say, “Wow, I remember that, kind of. That was nice, I think. He was a nice guy and was very special – for such a short time.”
Like most of the men in my life, I thought you’d be around forever. And like most, I guess I was wrong. I guess there will be more that will fade, leaving me with fondness and warm times locked in my head.
Virtual Fridge - new watercolor
I seem to be addicted to Georgia O'Keefe and her flowers. Just bought this huge book from Barnes and Noble with her wonderful flowers. So here's one:
I'm digging doing all this painting. I was so tired after a long day yesterday but couldn't help myself. I had to sit down and paint because I was so inspired and motivated from teaching. Just what I need, another addiction!
I'm digging doing all this painting. I was so tired after a long day yesterday but couldn't help myself. I had to sit down and paint because I was so inspired and motivated from teaching. Just what I need, another addiction!
Sunday, June 03, 2007
F***.
Clowns got loose.
Running rampant.
Very big.
Very mean.
Very pissed off.
Carrying signs.
And megaphones.
Here’s a bit of what they’re saying (in no particular order):
1. You’re fat.
2. You’re old.
3. You’re ugly.
4. Nobody wants you here.
5. He’s sorry he ever let you into his life and now he just wants you to fucking go away and never come back.
6. Oh, did we mention you’re fat?
7. And you’re old.
8. And you’re ugly.
9. Nobody wants you here.
10. He especially doesn’t want you here, there or anywhere near him.
11. You’re gonna die alone and empty and unfulfilled.
Rinse.
Repeat.
Damn.
Damn.
Trying to ignore them.
Hope to get some sleep.
And, yes, I know they’re liars and it’s bullshit and ignore them and all the good advice you’re all gonna post and email and send to me.
But it doesn’t help.
Because they’re big, mean, pissed off clowns. And they’re loud. And I’m tired. Of everything.
Hope tomorrow will find them back in cages.
We’ll see.
Running rampant.
Very big.
Very mean.
Very pissed off.
Carrying signs.
And megaphones.
Here’s a bit of what they’re saying (in no particular order):
1. You’re fat.
2. You’re old.
3. You’re ugly.
4. Nobody wants you here.
5. He’s sorry he ever let you into his life and now he just wants you to fucking go away and never come back.
6. Oh, did we mention you’re fat?
7. And you’re old.
8. And you’re ugly.
9. Nobody wants you here.
10. He especially doesn’t want you here, there or anywhere near him.
11. You’re gonna die alone and empty and unfulfilled.
Rinse.
Repeat.
Damn.
Damn.
Trying to ignore them.
Hope to get some sleep.
And, yes, I know they’re liars and it’s bullshit and ignore them and all the good advice you’re all gonna post and email and send to me.
But it doesn’t help.
Because they’re big, mean, pissed off clowns. And they’re loud. And I’m tired. Of everything.
Hope tomorrow will find them back in cages.
We’ll see.
Friday, June 01, 2007
Virtual Fridge - new watercolor
My newest watercolor:
This was tough and is one of the first "real" animals I have drawn from this fabulous new photo book I picked up that has images from the Arctic and Antarctic. Some beautiful images I hope to draw and paint eventually.
So, enjoy!
This was tough and is one of the first "real" animals I have drawn from this fabulous new photo book I picked up that has images from the Arctic and Antarctic. Some beautiful images I hope to draw and paint eventually.
So, enjoy!
Unforgivable sin...
I will never forgive you for making me give up on having a baby. You made the whole experience so awful and painful and difficult. You made me feel guilty for having you jerk off in a cup twice a month, even though I was the one who underwent all the horrible, painful tests and hormone treatments and operations. Jerking off in a cup doesn’t even fucking equal the one x-ray I had done (hysterosalpingogram, for those of you with a yen for research). Jerking off in a cup doesn’t even fucking equal having exploratory surgery just to check out why we weren’t getting pregnant. Jerking off in a cup doesn’t even fucking equal the emotional pain and sorrow when I got my period every single month, knowing I had failed yet again at something I wanted so badly. Your comforting words? It’s okay, I’m okay if we don’t have children. So fucking glad you’re okay because, god forbid, I wouldn’t want you to be not okay. I’ll just go on my sterile merry barren way while you enjoy your empty, childless life, which you’re okay with.
You made me feel guilty when I went for insemination, despite being pretty much covered by your health insurance. You almost wouldn’t go to the doctor with me to jerk off in the cup because you didn’t want to tell your boss you’d be late for work so you could help your wife get pregnant because she didn’t think anyone should have children. You put your fucking boss, who you hated, over your wife. You put her feelings over mine. I had to beg you to come with me that morning because you couldn’t be bothered to come to the doctor for 10 minutes to help me with something we both should have wanted more than anything.
Someone once accused me of not wanting to get pregnant badly enough to actually do anything in my power to get pregnant. The truth was that I couldn’t face dealing with you anymore on this because you had made my life hell while I was trying to create something that should be a gift from God. But you couldn’t bear to be inconvenienced by things such as tests and jars. You couldn’t open your heart up a little bit to see the pain and the anguish I was going through. You couldn’t be honest enough to say, you know what, I don’t want to have a baby, it’s too much for me to handle, it’ll disrupt this pleasantly organized life I have created. So don’t do it, okay? No. You made me feel guilty and awful and ridiculous for wanting to try. You never understood my pain in anything else, I don’t know why I expected you to understand my pain in this.
And now I sit here and people keep saying to me, boy, you must be glad you never had children, now that you’re divorced. And you know what, those of you who dare to ask that stupid question? No, I’m not glad we didn’t have children. I am in pain every single day because we COULDN’T have children. I did not choose to not have children. Part of it was nature, part of it was his choice. It was never my choice. We didn’t have children because he was too selfish to allow us to. We didn’t have children because God didn’t choose to bless us with them. So don’t ever ask that stupid fucking question to anyone on this earth again because you don’t know anything about why they don’t have children and how they feel about that.
I could deal with your cruelty and your indifference and your brutality. I could forgive you for making me feel small and stupid and unloved and unwanted. I could forget that you tried to shatter my dreams and almost let me kill myself on that one long, empty night. But for this, I will never be able to forgive you because you took away my choice in something that was possibly the most important thing ever in our lives. You turned your back on that and never looked back. You never tried to find out what that did to me, just like you never tried to find out what anything did to me. For never even seeing what you took away from me, I will never forgive you. For leaving me empty and aching and filled with sorrow and anguish whenever I see the beautiful, glorious faces of children around me, I will never forgive you. For never really even allowing the possibility, I will never forgive you.
I think that’s when the end began, when you closed that door on me without seeing the damage that was done. But you’ll never understand because you don’t have the heart to. And that’s just pathetic.
You made me feel guilty when I went for insemination, despite being pretty much covered by your health insurance. You almost wouldn’t go to the doctor with me to jerk off in the cup because you didn’t want to tell your boss you’d be late for work so you could help your wife get pregnant because she didn’t think anyone should have children. You put your fucking boss, who you hated, over your wife. You put her feelings over mine. I had to beg you to come with me that morning because you couldn’t be bothered to come to the doctor for 10 minutes to help me with something we both should have wanted more than anything.
Someone once accused me of not wanting to get pregnant badly enough to actually do anything in my power to get pregnant. The truth was that I couldn’t face dealing with you anymore on this because you had made my life hell while I was trying to create something that should be a gift from God. But you couldn’t bear to be inconvenienced by things such as tests and jars. You couldn’t open your heart up a little bit to see the pain and the anguish I was going through. You couldn’t be honest enough to say, you know what, I don’t want to have a baby, it’s too much for me to handle, it’ll disrupt this pleasantly organized life I have created. So don’t do it, okay? No. You made me feel guilty and awful and ridiculous for wanting to try. You never understood my pain in anything else, I don’t know why I expected you to understand my pain in this.
And now I sit here and people keep saying to me, boy, you must be glad you never had children, now that you’re divorced. And you know what, those of you who dare to ask that stupid question? No, I’m not glad we didn’t have children. I am in pain every single day because we COULDN’T have children. I did not choose to not have children. Part of it was nature, part of it was his choice. It was never my choice. We didn’t have children because he was too selfish to allow us to. We didn’t have children because God didn’t choose to bless us with them. So don’t ever ask that stupid fucking question to anyone on this earth again because you don’t know anything about why they don’t have children and how they feel about that.
I could deal with your cruelty and your indifference and your brutality. I could forgive you for making me feel small and stupid and unloved and unwanted. I could forget that you tried to shatter my dreams and almost let me kill myself on that one long, empty night. But for this, I will never be able to forgive you because you took away my choice in something that was possibly the most important thing ever in our lives. You turned your back on that and never looked back. You never tried to find out what that did to me, just like you never tried to find out what anything did to me. For never even seeing what you took away from me, I will never forgive you. For leaving me empty and aching and filled with sorrow and anguish whenever I see the beautiful, glorious faces of children around me, I will never forgive you. For never really even allowing the possibility, I will never forgive you.
I think that’s when the end began, when you closed that door on me without seeing the damage that was done. But you’ll never understand because you don’t have the heart to. And that’s just pathetic.
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