Dear OOMA:
Thank you for tolerating my obsession. Thank you for not running screaming for the hills. I fell for you at a time when I needed someone to put all the misplaced emotiions and affections I had and you happened to be there. You said the things no one has said to me in a long time. You treated me like I was so special and like I meant something. You treated me like I was worth something and I haven't had that in a long, long time. Thank you for giving me that gift. You will always be special in my heart, no matter where our journey takes us from here.
My gift to you is letting you go.
I came here to let you know
The letting go
Has taken place
I have held the winter's son
Become one
Set my pace
Isn't that what we wanted all along
Freedom like a stone
Maybe we were wrong
But I can say goodbye
Now that the passion's died
Still it comes so slow
The letting go
Piece by piece I take apart
This complicated heart
And I hope to find
Something I can prove is real
I can feel is truth
I can say is mine
That's all I ever wanted to be
The closer I got
The further I could see
But when lovers change
And the night feels strange
We choose our road
The letting go
I came here to let you know
The letting go
Has taken place
- Melissa Etheridge
Thursday, May 11, 2006
Wednesday, May 10, 2006
Everything I know, I learned from making this film...
(Sorry, this post came out much longer than I had anticipated)
1. Sometimes, thing are meant to be – When I suggested doing this film to Paul Wagar at the Ark, I really didn’t think it would happen. I kept expecting someone to tell me no. Chairman told me in November at an IHOP in Vegas that it was time for this to happen. And that thought I should do it whether or not the Ark got involved. Zadra said over and over that this film was going to happen no matter what. My friend, Donna, called it a freight train. Once it got going, it wasn’t going to stop. And it didn’t. Even when I ran out of money and told my actors I couldn’t pay them right away, they all just shrugged and said, whatever. Pay us when you can. This is a film I’ve wanted to make for so long. and, yes, due to the extremely limited everything, a lot of sacrifices creatively had to be made, but in the long run, I think the film will be great. It was meant to happen now. It was meant to be a part of the cosmic “click” that seems (hopefully) about to happen in my life. I’m now finally in a position to take some changes, take the leap, embrace my destiny and follow it through. Meant to be.
2. I have amazing people in my life – This project couldn’t have happened without the participation of every single person, no matter how small their contribution, no matter how large their participation. Positive energy begets positive energy and can change the world… or at least part of it. From my incredibly generous parents who have paid for my midlife crisis to the incredible crew and cast to the friends and family who contributed in great and small ways, every single day of this process has shown me the wonder of the people around me. It’s so easy to forget that in the blackness of depression but it’s so wonderful to rediscover it after that blackness. The real test of those around me on this project was definitely our long last night of shooting. I was blessed throughout with short shoot days but Saturday was 23 pages in 12 hours. As we crept towards 4 AM, everyone was tired, everyone was punchy, Donna was definitely feeling the wear and tear of being in effects make-up and being “naked” and many other things. But no one bitched, no one complained. In fact, laughter rang constantly throughout the house and the cast even took time to make a fool of their humble director on camera (look for it on the DVD). So many new people on this crew that just fit together like we’d been working forever. I could have never made this project without that synergy. And I managed to sneak all three of my favorite guys into roles – AJ as Nick, the ex-husband (and he’s gonna be a huge star – not from this but the myriad of other projects he’s got going on), Peter in a small but lovely little snarky role as Howard, the movie executive, and my dearest Chairman as, what else, Prince Charming. I know I’m not the only one who sees him this way. These are the people I want to take with me as I move hopefully onwards and upwards from this project. They’re the ones that were there when I had nothing and needed everything. I want to give that back to them in spades.
3. There is no “we” and that’s okay – I spent the last 16 years of my life being forced to share the spotlight, whether I wanted to or not. It wasn’t always that way. My ex and I were so intertwined creatively for so long that almost everything we did was definitely “we.” I don’t mind sharing credit where credit is due. But as we moved in different directions creatively and I started making my own mark as a director, I kept being forced to find ways to include him in my success. It really hit me when I directed at USC for the Jerome Robbins One Act Playwriting Festival. A prestigious event, it was one of the first things I did outside of the Ark after I began to really find myself as a director. It was a fun and lovely piece and I was very pleased with the end result. Donna Allen, Greg Franklin and Phil Restivo were my wonderful actors and did me justice. I sat in the audience on judging night next to the head of the writing department, which was what the one acts are all about. It’s his show basically. He didn’t know I was the director of the one act he was watching. He laughed, he held his breath and he gasped at the end, which is just what I wanted. He turned to me when it was over and said, “Wow, that was the best show of the night. What a great production.” He couldn’t stop raving. I couldn’t stop smiling. I finally told him it was mine and he gushed even more. The gushing carried on into the lobby at the end of the night, praises I couldn’t even begin to absorb. Suddenly, my ex was beside me. Instead of saying, yes, she’s great, isn’t she, I’m so proud of her (as I had done for him countless times), he had to interject, “Well, I helped change the set because I had to be here for rehearsals because I had to drive her and I kind of got forced into helping…” and then the well-wishers smiled politely and walked away. This trend continued as my career opportunities increased that year. Slamdance reading – he found a way to interject himself into that and managed to get pictures of everyone else with Enrico Colantoni, our guest celebrity, except me. The next year and USC one acts again and the same thing. Over and over again, he forced me to find a way to give him credit for things he hadn’t done, for participation at its most minimal. I have spent the last 16 years saying “we” and being unable to say “I.” Even so on this project. I was so worried about making sure everyone got credit that I sometimes forget to include myself. Zadra and Chairman have been particularly good about pointing that out to me, none so clearly as a post on an industry board Chairman put up the morning after our last night of shooting. I had put up a post saying we were technically wrapped and that my co-producer, Chairman, had done his acting turn that night and gave him some credit for his participation. His post stopped me in my tracks. Basically, he said that his participation was mostly as cheerleader (such a great image in my mind) and that the film was 99.9% the result of my own blood, sweat and tears. Stopped me in my tracks. He was right. I pulled this thing together and, yes, there was help and there were others who contributed, but this film was mine. All mine. No one was going to step up and say, hey, you didn’t thank me, hey, you didn’t find a way to make this about me. I guess because Chairman was in the role that was usually taken by my ex, I expected conflict, I expected repercussions, I expected glory-hogging, because that’s what I was used to in a collaborator. Even on the set, when Chairman would have a suggestion or a thought, which, as a producer was his right, I would cringe, waiting for the conflict, waiting for the battle because that’s all I knew about dealing with a man that I was close to in that position. I forgot that Chairman and Paul and all of the others don’t see me the way my ex did. They see me as the artist, as capable, as the leader, as the person I want to be. They don’t need to take credit away because they are secure in themselves. They don’t need to diminish me in order to make themselves feel better. They don’t need to create conflict and disagreement just because they want it done their way. They respect me and treat me with that respect. They share in the accomplishment and participate in the process but they don’t hesitate to let me take the credit I deserve. Wow, that’s such a weird thing to experience. I think I could get used to this. I still find myself writing “we” when talking about the film. I guess I need to realize there’s no “I” in “we” and embrace the singularity of that credit.
3. I know what the hell I’m doing – That’s been a long time coming. As a director, I’ve grown into these shoes and feel very confident when I’m directing. I think I have a vision for each project and I’m learning more and more about what I want out of a project and how to achieve that. As a producer, I’ve always been told that I’m an amazing producer. I don’t know how not to put something together, even if it means staying up all night and building it myself. That was the biggest problem I had with one of the influential board members at the Ark last year on one of the shows. There were things going wrong and I felt that they were fixable but he tied my hands and told me to just let things break. I don’t let things break if I can help it. It gets me in trouble but it also means things get done. Inspired, not obsessive. This film was the ultimate culmination of all of that. It also almost killed me. I did everything. Find props, coordinate crew, coordinate shooting schedules and make sure everyone showed up where they should. Finding locations. Selecting wardrobe. Product placement. Craft service. Never mind the rest of producing and directing – fundraising, putting together the fundraiser, shot lists, storyboards, rehearsals. God, no wonder I’m exhausted. But I couldn’t say, hey, look what I did. Again, Zadra and Chairman gave me the equivalent of the sitcom slap to the back of the head. Having lunch with Zadra last Wednesday before our final shoot day, I said something to the effect of feeling that I wasn’t organized enough on this project, that somehow I could have done things better and been more prepared. Slap-in-the-back-of-the-head look. I think she said something akin to “are you nuts? You just shot 12 pages in 4 hours this weekend.” Oh, yeah. Later that night, I reiterated this refrain to Chairman. Again, that look. His response – “After Saturday, you’re going to have 7/8 of a feature film in the can. That wouldn’t have happened if you hadn’t been organized enough.” Oh. Yeah. Right. I didn’t realize how solid and confident I felt in these shoes until our long Saturday night shoot. I had to juggle so much and rewrite on the fly and reconfigure shot after shot after shot and it was all up to me. Chairman was there for part of the night and I knew if I needed help or input, I could turn to him and say something and he would be there. I had my great DP, Beth, who offered suggestions but basically left the decisions up to me. And I never hesitated. I discovered that I know what I’m doing. I can do this. The biggest lesson I also learned was the value of that respect and that appreciation for me. During that long night, I would step off the set to check out my shot list/index card puzzle that I had created to make sure I knew what I was doing. I had my Ipod Nano stuffed with Bruce Hornsby because that music stimulates my creative brain. I would pop on my Ipod, listen while I played with my index card puzzle and figured out where to go next. The cast and crew left me alone. No one was tugging on my sleeve. Even as the hours grew long and late, that respect remained. They knew I had a lot to do and to figure out and they respected the earphones and let me do my work. At the end of the night, I sat down and cried, as I’ve mentioned previously. I couldn’t believe that I did this. I did this. There was help and there were supporters and there were a million other things but all of this came from me. I chose the people to be involved, I chose who to listen to and who not to. It was all mine.
This is where I’ve been trying to get these past three or four years. To find myself, to find my core, to stand firm in my Carlos Santanas and say, hey, this is me,
Susan Lee, director, producer, writer. I do this well. It is who I am. And I think I’m finally beginning to embrace that confidence, thanks to this film. These past few days, although I am exhausted, I feel a peace there, a comfort there with myself. I’m hoping this is the beginning of the best phase of my life, building on this confidence, growing this satisfaction and knowing that I don’t need to go back to that questioning, uncertain, wavering person I was and that it’s okay to say I’m great, I’m smart, I’m funny, I’m talented, I know what I’m doing. I’ll take suggestions but it’s all up to me.
Wow, that’s amazing. It’s all up to me.
1. Sometimes, thing are meant to be – When I suggested doing this film to Paul Wagar at the Ark, I really didn’t think it would happen. I kept expecting someone to tell me no. Chairman told me in November at an IHOP in Vegas that it was time for this to happen. And that thought I should do it whether or not the Ark got involved. Zadra said over and over that this film was going to happen no matter what. My friend, Donna, called it a freight train. Once it got going, it wasn’t going to stop. And it didn’t. Even when I ran out of money and told my actors I couldn’t pay them right away, they all just shrugged and said, whatever. Pay us when you can. This is a film I’ve wanted to make for so long. and, yes, due to the extremely limited everything, a lot of sacrifices creatively had to be made, but in the long run, I think the film will be great. It was meant to happen now. It was meant to be a part of the cosmic “click” that seems (hopefully) about to happen in my life. I’m now finally in a position to take some changes, take the leap, embrace my destiny and follow it through. Meant to be.
2. I have amazing people in my life – This project couldn’t have happened without the participation of every single person, no matter how small their contribution, no matter how large their participation. Positive energy begets positive energy and can change the world… or at least part of it. From my incredibly generous parents who have paid for my midlife crisis to the incredible crew and cast to the friends and family who contributed in great and small ways, every single day of this process has shown me the wonder of the people around me. It’s so easy to forget that in the blackness of depression but it’s so wonderful to rediscover it after that blackness. The real test of those around me on this project was definitely our long last night of shooting. I was blessed throughout with short shoot days but Saturday was 23 pages in 12 hours. As we crept towards 4 AM, everyone was tired, everyone was punchy, Donna was definitely feeling the wear and tear of being in effects make-up and being “naked” and many other things. But no one bitched, no one complained. In fact, laughter rang constantly throughout the house and the cast even took time to make a fool of their humble director on camera (look for it on the DVD). So many new people on this crew that just fit together like we’d been working forever. I could have never made this project without that synergy. And I managed to sneak all three of my favorite guys into roles – AJ as Nick, the ex-husband (and he’s gonna be a huge star – not from this but the myriad of other projects he’s got going on), Peter in a small but lovely little snarky role as Howard, the movie executive, and my dearest Chairman as, what else, Prince Charming. I know I’m not the only one who sees him this way. These are the people I want to take with me as I move hopefully onwards and upwards from this project. They’re the ones that were there when I had nothing and needed everything. I want to give that back to them in spades.
3. There is no “we” and that’s okay – I spent the last 16 years of my life being forced to share the spotlight, whether I wanted to or not. It wasn’t always that way. My ex and I were so intertwined creatively for so long that almost everything we did was definitely “we.” I don’t mind sharing credit where credit is due. But as we moved in different directions creatively and I started making my own mark as a director, I kept being forced to find ways to include him in my success. It really hit me when I directed at USC for the Jerome Robbins One Act Playwriting Festival. A prestigious event, it was one of the first things I did outside of the Ark after I began to really find myself as a director. It was a fun and lovely piece and I was very pleased with the end result. Donna Allen, Greg Franklin and Phil Restivo were my wonderful actors and did me justice. I sat in the audience on judging night next to the head of the writing department, which was what the one acts are all about. It’s his show basically. He didn’t know I was the director of the one act he was watching. He laughed, he held his breath and he gasped at the end, which is just what I wanted. He turned to me when it was over and said, “Wow, that was the best show of the night. What a great production.” He couldn’t stop raving. I couldn’t stop smiling. I finally told him it was mine and he gushed even more. The gushing carried on into the lobby at the end of the night, praises I couldn’t even begin to absorb. Suddenly, my ex was beside me. Instead of saying, yes, she’s great, isn’t she, I’m so proud of her (as I had done for him countless times), he had to interject, “Well, I helped change the set because I had to be here for rehearsals because I had to drive her and I kind of got forced into helping…” and then the well-wishers smiled politely and walked away. This trend continued as my career opportunities increased that year. Slamdance reading – he found a way to interject himself into that and managed to get pictures of everyone else with Enrico Colantoni, our guest celebrity, except me. The next year and USC one acts again and the same thing. Over and over again, he forced me to find a way to give him credit for things he hadn’t done, for participation at its most minimal. I have spent the last 16 years saying “we” and being unable to say “I.” Even so on this project. I was so worried about making sure everyone got credit that I sometimes forget to include myself. Zadra and Chairman have been particularly good about pointing that out to me, none so clearly as a post on an industry board Chairman put up the morning after our last night of shooting. I had put up a post saying we were technically wrapped and that my co-producer, Chairman, had done his acting turn that night and gave him some credit for his participation. His post stopped me in my tracks. Basically, he said that his participation was mostly as cheerleader (such a great image in my mind) and that the film was 99.9% the result of my own blood, sweat and tears. Stopped me in my tracks. He was right. I pulled this thing together and, yes, there was help and there were others who contributed, but this film was mine. All mine. No one was going to step up and say, hey, you didn’t thank me, hey, you didn’t find a way to make this about me. I guess because Chairman was in the role that was usually taken by my ex, I expected conflict, I expected repercussions, I expected glory-hogging, because that’s what I was used to in a collaborator. Even on the set, when Chairman would have a suggestion or a thought, which, as a producer was his right, I would cringe, waiting for the conflict, waiting for the battle because that’s all I knew about dealing with a man that I was close to in that position. I forgot that Chairman and Paul and all of the others don’t see me the way my ex did. They see me as the artist, as capable, as the leader, as the person I want to be. They don’t need to take credit away because they are secure in themselves. They don’t need to diminish me in order to make themselves feel better. They don’t need to create conflict and disagreement just because they want it done their way. They respect me and treat me with that respect. They share in the accomplishment and participate in the process but they don’t hesitate to let me take the credit I deserve. Wow, that’s such a weird thing to experience. I think I could get used to this. I still find myself writing “we” when talking about the film. I guess I need to realize there’s no “I” in “we” and embrace the singularity of that credit.
3. I know what the hell I’m doing – That’s been a long time coming. As a director, I’ve grown into these shoes and feel very confident when I’m directing. I think I have a vision for each project and I’m learning more and more about what I want out of a project and how to achieve that. As a producer, I’ve always been told that I’m an amazing producer. I don’t know how not to put something together, even if it means staying up all night and building it myself. That was the biggest problem I had with one of the influential board members at the Ark last year on one of the shows. There were things going wrong and I felt that they were fixable but he tied my hands and told me to just let things break. I don’t let things break if I can help it. It gets me in trouble but it also means things get done. Inspired, not obsessive. This film was the ultimate culmination of all of that. It also almost killed me. I did everything. Find props, coordinate crew, coordinate shooting schedules and make sure everyone showed up where they should. Finding locations. Selecting wardrobe. Product placement. Craft service. Never mind the rest of producing and directing – fundraising, putting together the fundraiser, shot lists, storyboards, rehearsals. God, no wonder I’m exhausted. But I couldn’t say, hey, look what I did. Again, Zadra and Chairman gave me the equivalent of the sitcom slap to the back of the head. Having lunch with Zadra last Wednesday before our final shoot day, I said something to the effect of feeling that I wasn’t organized enough on this project, that somehow I could have done things better and been more prepared. Slap-in-the-back-of-the-head look. I think she said something akin to “are you nuts? You just shot 12 pages in 4 hours this weekend.” Oh, yeah. Later that night, I reiterated this refrain to Chairman. Again, that look. His response – “After Saturday, you’re going to have 7/8 of a feature film in the can. That wouldn’t have happened if you hadn’t been organized enough.” Oh. Yeah. Right. I didn’t realize how solid and confident I felt in these shoes until our long Saturday night shoot. I had to juggle so much and rewrite on the fly and reconfigure shot after shot after shot and it was all up to me. Chairman was there for part of the night and I knew if I needed help or input, I could turn to him and say something and he would be there. I had my great DP, Beth, who offered suggestions but basically left the decisions up to me. And I never hesitated. I discovered that I know what I’m doing. I can do this. The biggest lesson I also learned was the value of that respect and that appreciation for me. During that long night, I would step off the set to check out my shot list/index card puzzle that I had created to make sure I knew what I was doing. I had my Ipod Nano stuffed with Bruce Hornsby because that music stimulates my creative brain. I would pop on my Ipod, listen while I played with my index card puzzle and figured out where to go next. The cast and crew left me alone. No one was tugging on my sleeve. Even as the hours grew long and late, that respect remained. They knew I had a lot to do and to figure out and they respected the earphones and let me do my work. At the end of the night, I sat down and cried, as I’ve mentioned previously. I couldn’t believe that I did this. I did this. There was help and there were supporters and there were a million other things but all of this came from me. I chose the people to be involved, I chose who to listen to and who not to. It was all mine.
This is where I’ve been trying to get these past three or four years. To find myself, to find my core, to stand firm in my Carlos Santanas and say, hey, this is me,
Susan Lee, director, producer, writer. I do this well. It is who I am. And I think I’m finally beginning to embrace that confidence, thanks to this film. These past few days, although I am exhausted, I feel a peace there, a comfort there with myself. I’m hoping this is the beginning of the best phase of my life, building on this confidence, growing this satisfaction and knowing that I don’t need to go back to that questioning, uncertain, wavering person I was and that it’s okay to say I’m great, I’m smart, I’m funny, I’m talented, I know what I’m doing. I’ll take suggestions but it’s all up to me.
Wow, that’s amazing. It’s all up to me.
Tuesday, May 09, 2006
Ummmm....
Don’t know which is worse. The fact that I just put up an internet “booty call” to someone who I’m not sure even reads my blogs anymore or the fact that part of me actually hopes he shows up! I even just tidied the apartment and lit incense to make it smell better because of this demented, twisted sick hope. Now I’m going to hop in the shower, probably freezing cold one, because…
Okay, so the apartment was a disaster. I haven’t been able to really do any cleaning or tidying in about four weeks so it was time. And it was on my agenda for today. And I always feel better after I do it. I still need to tackle my room but after four loads of laundry (by the way, OOMA, if you do show up, I have nice clean undies – god, I’m pathetic), and vacuuming, I think I’ll tackle my room tomorrow. And the incense was needed, trust me. With two Chihuahuas, the place often smells like dog, especially when it’s warm and muggy.
And I really need to shower after my short but dedicated frenzy of cleaning. I’ve worked hard this week and a nice long shower instead of the usual hop in and clean off will be nice.
Okay, so maybe I’m not so pathetic. These things were maybe not motivated by the silly, frivolous hope of someone showing up at my door.
But I’m still a little chagrined over the booty call. Oh, well. That’s life.
If a booty call is put out on the internet and no one answers it, is it still a booty call? Hmmmm….
Okay, so the apartment was a disaster. I haven’t been able to really do any cleaning or tidying in about four weeks so it was time. And it was on my agenda for today. And I always feel better after I do it. I still need to tackle my room but after four loads of laundry (by the way, OOMA, if you do show up, I have nice clean undies – god, I’m pathetic), and vacuuming, I think I’ll tackle my room tomorrow. And the incense was needed, trust me. With two Chihuahuas, the place often smells like dog, especially when it’s warm and muggy.
And I really need to shower after my short but dedicated frenzy of cleaning. I’ve worked hard this week and a nice long shower instead of the usual hop in and clean off will be nice.
Okay, so maybe I’m not so pathetic. These things were maybe not motivated by the silly, frivolous hope of someone showing up at my door.
But I’m still a little chagrined over the booty call. Oh, well. That’s life.
If a booty call is put out on the internet and no one answers it, is it still a booty call? Hmmmm….
I want your sex… (caution - adult material... sort of)
I want his sex…
I want just about anybody’s sex right about now.
It’s been over a year. I stopped sleeping with my ex well before my birthday last year and never went back. The idea of making love… That was one of the clues that we were creeping on to the end.
Now, these urges can usually be… handled. Although usually I really just want someone to hold me, literally sleep with me, wake up to them in the morning kind of thing.
Not now. Not today. Sex. That’s it.
Maybe it’s raging hormones. After all, don’t they say after 40, it’s like being 15 again? Acne comes back, your body gets all out of control? Well, yep, it is today.
Just watched a very funny “Mad About You” where they stopped having sex while waiting for Jamie to ovulate. Then they can’t manage to get together to actually have sex and are finding ways to delay things until they can get together.
That’s me. Delaying. Things. Until…
See, there’s the problem. There is no until. There’s no one waiting for me to get there so they can rip off my clothes and take me right there on the floor. Sucks, if you’ll pardon the irony.
Luckily – or maybe unluckily – the OOMA is nowhere near and probably won’t be seen for at least a couple of days. Otherwise, he might get a greeting that he never expected. Hmmmm, maybe that’s a new approach I haven’t tried. If only he knew how close he was to getting… something. The writer in my head envisions him reading this, realizing it’s him, having him show up at my door, bottle of wine, box of condoms, maybe chocolate…
Okay, gotta go now. Maybe a cold shower….
I want just about anybody’s sex right about now.
It’s been over a year. I stopped sleeping with my ex well before my birthday last year and never went back. The idea of making love… That was one of the clues that we were creeping on to the end.
Now, these urges can usually be… handled. Although usually I really just want someone to hold me, literally sleep with me, wake up to them in the morning kind of thing.
Not now. Not today. Sex. That’s it.
Maybe it’s raging hormones. After all, don’t they say after 40, it’s like being 15 again? Acne comes back, your body gets all out of control? Well, yep, it is today.
Just watched a very funny “Mad About You” where they stopped having sex while waiting for Jamie to ovulate. Then they can’t manage to get together to actually have sex and are finding ways to delay things until they can get together.
That’s me. Delaying. Things. Until…
See, there’s the problem. There is no until. There’s no one waiting for me to get there so they can rip off my clothes and take me right there on the floor. Sucks, if you’ll pardon the irony.
Luckily – or maybe unluckily – the OOMA is nowhere near and probably won’t be seen for at least a couple of days. Otherwise, he might get a greeting that he never expected. Hmmmm, maybe that’s a new approach I haven’t tried. If only he knew how close he was to getting… something. The writer in my head envisions him reading this, realizing it’s him, having him show up at my door, bottle of wine, box of condoms, maybe chocolate…
Okay, gotta go now. Maybe a cold shower….
Monday, May 08, 2006
Don't call me obsessed, call me inspired...
If you haven't found this yet, check out my new blog:
http://wraithoflove.blogspot.com
I felt she deserved her own blog.
Let me know what you think.
http://wraithoflove.blogspot.com
I felt she deserved her own blog.
Let me know what you think.
Sunday, May 07, 2006
Satisfied - kinda...
The sun is rising, my feet are pounding and I can’t keep my eyes open. Yet I can’t quite seem to climb into bed. I am currently sitting on top of it, but can’t seem to get under the covers. Very, very tired… very, very satisfied.
Okay, not in that way. Just finished the last major day of filming on Cinderella Drives A Pick-up. Long ass day, the longest on the shoot – 12 full hours. But shot 23 pages. Yikes.
It hit me as we packed up the equipment at the house we were shooting at – all the emotion of the last year, practically, caught me by surprise and I had to sit down. I know I’ve been in a mood and challenging lately and I know I’ve been battling the dark demons and losing. But tonight, for the first time in a long time, I was just happy. Happy with those around me, happy with my life and, yes, even my choices. Happy with this moment, this night, this feeling.
I couldn’t stop the tears from coming as I fought for my composure. I have had my head buried in the work so much that I almost missed the joy. I’m so glad I caught it, finally, tonight, in time to take some of it home with me.
And I will go to sleep soon, blocking out the rooster who crows no matter whether it’s 66 AM or 6 PM (very confused livestock in this neighborhood, apparently), cuddling with my cat who has missed me terribly today, and, for the first time in a long time, not feel so alone, not feel so empty, as I take the joy and the memory and the affection from tonight with me as I finally shut my sleepy eyes and drift off.
Okay, not in that way. Just finished the last major day of filming on Cinderella Drives A Pick-up. Long ass day, the longest on the shoot – 12 full hours. But shot 23 pages. Yikes.
It hit me as we packed up the equipment at the house we were shooting at – all the emotion of the last year, practically, caught me by surprise and I had to sit down. I know I’ve been in a mood and challenging lately and I know I’ve been battling the dark demons and losing. But tonight, for the first time in a long time, I was just happy. Happy with those around me, happy with my life and, yes, even my choices. Happy with this moment, this night, this feeling.
I couldn’t stop the tears from coming as I fought for my composure. I have had my head buried in the work so much that I almost missed the joy. I’m so glad I caught it, finally, tonight, in time to take some of it home with me.
And I will go to sleep soon, blocking out the rooster who crows no matter whether it’s 66 AM or 6 PM (very confused livestock in this neighborhood, apparently), cuddling with my cat who has missed me terribly today, and, for the first time in a long time, not feel so alone, not feel so empty, as I take the joy and the memory and the affection from tonight with me as I finally shut my sleepy eyes and drift off.
Saturday, May 06, 2006
Pondering the choice
Maybe the sacrifice wasn’t worth it. On a day which should be a celebration, the victory rings hollow with emptiness. He should have been a part of this and he’s not. And for brief moments, I miss him. He wasn’t always cruel, he wasn’t always harsh. I miss that part of him. And that’s what I saw in the OOMA. That man. That grace. That warmth. But I’ve managed to lose that as well. I don’t think our friendship has survived either.
I know I sound ungrateful to all those who have been so supportive and so encouraging and so there for me through this last year. And I am grateful. I would have never survived without all of you. I wouldn’t be on the last (kinda) day of shooting this film without all of you.
But it’s knowing that when we’re done tonight – or in the wee hours of the morning, as I imagine is the reality – there will be no one to celebrate with, no one to do a mini-post mortem with, no one to end the night with, to share this victory with in that deep, intimate way that I miss.
I can’t change any of that now. I don’t know what I would change, if I could. Some of my missteps perhaps recently that have chased away someone so dear that it breaks my heart to think that he’ll be out of my life pretty much once we’re done filming. I cast expectations on him that he wasn’t ready for, I guess. I’m really good at that. Maybe I could have changed how my marriage ended or fought harder to keep it together. Maybe I could have changed more, allowing him to change more. I don’t know.
I just know I am torn today – so glad to have this film and to have had this experience. It showed me so much about myself and what I am capable of. It showed me what love and support I do have around me. It showed me that this is definitely the path I want to be on. But bittersweet is the moment with the singleness of my life, of my choice, of my future. I guess it’s the lesson that I need to learn. How to be alone. How to be just me. What I really want in someone who will eventually be at my side.
I just want it to be worth it eventually. Whatever that means.
I know I sound ungrateful to all those who have been so supportive and so encouraging and so there for me through this last year. And I am grateful. I would have never survived without all of you. I wouldn’t be on the last (kinda) day of shooting this film without all of you.
But it’s knowing that when we’re done tonight – or in the wee hours of the morning, as I imagine is the reality – there will be no one to celebrate with, no one to do a mini-post mortem with, no one to end the night with, to share this victory with in that deep, intimate way that I miss.
I can’t change any of that now. I don’t know what I would change, if I could. Some of my missteps perhaps recently that have chased away someone so dear that it breaks my heart to think that he’ll be out of my life pretty much once we’re done filming. I cast expectations on him that he wasn’t ready for, I guess. I’m really good at that. Maybe I could have changed how my marriage ended or fought harder to keep it together. Maybe I could have changed more, allowing him to change more. I don’t know.
I just know I am torn today – so glad to have this film and to have had this experience. It showed me so much about myself and what I am capable of. It showed me what love and support I do have around me. It showed me that this is definitely the path I want to be on. But bittersweet is the moment with the singleness of my life, of my choice, of my future. I guess it’s the lesson that I need to learn. How to be alone. How to be just me. What I really want in someone who will eventually be at my side.
I just want it to be worth it eventually. Whatever that means.
Friday, May 05, 2006
A return to joy... at least a bit...
All the women in my family suffer from depression. They’ll deny it but they do. I like the way my friend, Amy The Writer, put it – functionally depressed. You’d never know looking at us about the deep, dark blues that hover around the edges always. We keep them at bay most times but sometimes, as in recently in my life, they manage to take hold without us knowing it.
Those deep dark blues made me miserable lately – and you all, my devoted readers, I’m sure, reading all about my misery. And I don’t know if it’s the magic happy soy pills or maybe Monica’s blogs lately or what, but I’ve come to realize that I let the joy in my life get away from me. Tonight, I think I began to desire to have a little bit of that joy back.
Monica’s blogs the past few days have been about reality and accepting reality and not trying to create something that’s not there. A very Taoist thing, which I tend to say that I am. I guess I should practice that a little more. I tend to want to make things be what I want them to be, thereby removing the potential of joy from it since I’m so busy trying to put it in the box I want it in instead of just leaving it out on the shelf.
She’s also been writing about worthiness. She put up a great parable about two servants serving one master and which one was worthy of the master’s gifts and why. It’s about taking the gifts you’re given, without putting a value on it, without trying to figure out why you’ve gotten that gift, it’s about taking the gift, saying thank you, and moving on. I’ve forgotten about that. Monica reminded me tonight as I stood around at Koji’s, listening to my fav guy, Chairman, sing. I love to watch this man sing. He is joy defined when he sings and it is contagious. I’ve been in such a funk lately that I’ve lost the ability to appreciate even that simple joy. Monica reminded me tonight that, no matter what else is going on in my life, no matter how blue things have been, to remember this simple moment of watching one of my best friends share his joy with all of us. She reminded me that these are the moments that I should treasure, that I will treasure in the years to come. To not try to figure out the moment, to just experience it.
Sometimes, most times, I just don’t feel worthy of these gifts and that’s where the dark blues come in. I look at what’s around me and I only see what could be bad about it. Someone doesn’t show up for something, I assume it’s because of my presence, not anything else. Someone wants to share their affection for me, I don’t think I deserve it because I’ve done something wrong. The whole obsession with the OOMA got so out of proportion because I think I didn’t feel worthy of someone loving me, that I felt I didn’t deserve to be loved, so therefore he couldn’t love me. So then I don’t feel worthy of loving myself because he couldn’t love me because I wasn’t worthy of him loving me so therefore I am not worthy of anybody loving me. Wow, what a twisted cycle. Some of this comes from years of being told by the one that supposedly loved me more than anything that I am not worthy, that I am less than, that I am not measuring up. It’s going to take a long time to get past that.
Then the universe – via my Ipod Nano – reminded me of some of these very things in the simplicity of one of my favorite Keith Urban songs. It echoed Monica’s sentiment tonight – these are the days we will remember. I’ve let the joy of making my film escape me because I’ve forgotten that it is supposed to be joyful. I’ve let the dark blues take that away from me. As we go into our last full schedule of shooting this weekend, I want this song, these lyrics to reverberate through my being every moment, to remind me that these are the days, and that I am worthy of these days, and that the joys of my life are all within arm’s reach – if I would just reach those arms out.
So, dear Keith and dear Monica, thank you for the reminder. I’ll leave you all with it as well.
“My grandma was a wise old soul
Took me by the hand not long ago
Said, "Son, what's your hurry, boy slow it down
Taste the wild honey, listen to the sound
Of the wind that's blowin' through the trees
Rivers flowin' to the sea
Yeah they're all headin' home just like you and me
Life's for livin' child, can't you see?"
These are the days we will remember
These are the times that won't come again
The highest of flames become an ember
And you gotta live 'em while you can
These are the days we will remember
These are the days we will remember
These are the days we will remember
These are the days we will remember
So take 'em by the hand, they're yours and mine
Take 'em by the hand and live your life
Take 'em by the hand don't let 'em all fly by
C'mon, C'mon now
Ooo days go by
Yeah, just like a hand out the window wavin' in the wind as the cars go by
Days go by”
Those deep dark blues made me miserable lately – and you all, my devoted readers, I’m sure, reading all about my misery. And I don’t know if it’s the magic happy soy pills or maybe Monica’s blogs lately or what, but I’ve come to realize that I let the joy in my life get away from me. Tonight, I think I began to desire to have a little bit of that joy back.
Monica’s blogs the past few days have been about reality and accepting reality and not trying to create something that’s not there. A very Taoist thing, which I tend to say that I am. I guess I should practice that a little more. I tend to want to make things be what I want them to be, thereby removing the potential of joy from it since I’m so busy trying to put it in the box I want it in instead of just leaving it out on the shelf.
She’s also been writing about worthiness. She put up a great parable about two servants serving one master and which one was worthy of the master’s gifts and why. It’s about taking the gifts you’re given, without putting a value on it, without trying to figure out why you’ve gotten that gift, it’s about taking the gift, saying thank you, and moving on. I’ve forgotten about that. Monica reminded me tonight as I stood around at Koji’s, listening to my fav guy, Chairman, sing. I love to watch this man sing. He is joy defined when he sings and it is contagious. I’ve been in such a funk lately that I’ve lost the ability to appreciate even that simple joy. Monica reminded me tonight that, no matter what else is going on in my life, no matter how blue things have been, to remember this simple moment of watching one of my best friends share his joy with all of us. She reminded me that these are the moments that I should treasure, that I will treasure in the years to come. To not try to figure out the moment, to just experience it.
Sometimes, most times, I just don’t feel worthy of these gifts and that’s where the dark blues come in. I look at what’s around me and I only see what could be bad about it. Someone doesn’t show up for something, I assume it’s because of my presence, not anything else. Someone wants to share their affection for me, I don’t think I deserve it because I’ve done something wrong. The whole obsession with the OOMA got so out of proportion because I think I didn’t feel worthy of someone loving me, that I felt I didn’t deserve to be loved, so therefore he couldn’t love me. So then I don’t feel worthy of loving myself because he couldn’t love me because I wasn’t worthy of him loving me so therefore I am not worthy of anybody loving me. Wow, what a twisted cycle. Some of this comes from years of being told by the one that supposedly loved me more than anything that I am not worthy, that I am less than, that I am not measuring up. It’s going to take a long time to get past that.
Then the universe – via my Ipod Nano – reminded me of some of these very things in the simplicity of one of my favorite Keith Urban songs. It echoed Monica’s sentiment tonight – these are the days we will remember. I’ve let the joy of making my film escape me because I’ve forgotten that it is supposed to be joyful. I’ve let the dark blues take that away from me. As we go into our last full schedule of shooting this weekend, I want this song, these lyrics to reverberate through my being every moment, to remind me that these are the days, and that I am worthy of these days, and that the joys of my life are all within arm’s reach – if I would just reach those arms out.
So, dear Keith and dear Monica, thank you for the reminder. I’ll leave you all with it as well.
“My grandma was a wise old soul
Took me by the hand not long ago
Said, "Son, what's your hurry, boy slow it down
Taste the wild honey, listen to the sound
Of the wind that's blowin' through the trees
Rivers flowin' to the sea
Yeah they're all headin' home just like you and me
Life's for livin' child, can't you see?"
These are the days we will remember
These are the times that won't come again
The highest of flames become an ember
And you gotta live 'em while you can
These are the days we will remember
These are the days we will remember
These are the days we will remember
These are the days we will remember
So take 'em by the hand, they're yours and mine
Take 'em by the hand and live your life
Take 'em by the hand don't let 'em all fly by
C'mon, C'mon now
Ooo days go by
Yeah, just like a hand out the window wavin' in the wind as the cars go by
Days go by”
Wednesday, May 03, 2006
And The Wraith paced...
The Wraith sat in her lair, listening to Keith Urban, as all superheroes do, and she pondered. Things had been quiet lately but she could feel the underpinnings of something coming. She couldn’t put her finger on it but she knew that there was something out there in the dark, something undefined, something most definitely lurking. And she didn’t like when things lurked.
She paced within her confined space, not yet willing to go out into the night and seek that indefinable thing and find out what it was. Yet her hackles were up and her restless grew with each passing hour. She felt trapped by circumstance, unable to let go of things in the recent past that haunted her. Mistakes she’d made, opportunities lost, just general bullshit that hadn’t yet found its place in her psyche to be buried.
She thought about calling Logi-Gal and Emo Chanel just to talk but realized that she didn’t feel like talking because she didn’t know what she would say. Pent up feelings are hard to express when you’re a superhero. Everyone expects that you deal with things well, because you have to. They don’t see the underneath, the darkness that always lurks in the corners of the mind, waiting for a chance to leap out and take you hostage. Every superhero is manic-depressive by nature.
The Wraith poured a healthy shot of Jameson’s, ready to down it in a single gulp, just to shut up the circus music in her head. Then, with great control, she took a single – albeit decent – sip and set the glass on the counter, promising to return to finish it.
She stared out at her city, wondering what Guy was up to tonight. Then she chased that thought away. No use wasting any more energy on something she was never going to have. The universe, the powers-that-be, their own fears of what could be all seemed to conspire against their ever being together and she had to accept that. It was too distracting to think that there was a future there of anything more than just a deep, special friendship. She knew it would break her heart the first time she saw him with another woman but it was something that she would have to face. Superheroes never get the... well, in this case... get the guy. They are always doomed to loneliness.
Such cheery thoughts tonight, she said to herself. Waiting was never her long suit.
She paced the perimeter once more, watching as the night grew short and the morning threatened to take over the day. She knew she should sleep but the thrumming of her nerves wouldn’t allow it. Even the whiskey didn’t take the edge off.
Something’s coming, she thought as she finally headed into her bedroom. Something most definitely is coming. Don’t know exactly what it is but I can feel it. She took off her 501’s and traded her man’s shirt for her Nick and Nora’s. Okay, superheroes do occasionally wear pajamas.
As the dark night sky gradually gave over to the beginnings of the sun, the Wraith finally began to feel the fingers of sleep crawling over her. As the traffic noise lulled her to sleep, her last thought was of Guy, because she simply couldn’t help herself, and a single tear sank into her pillow, lost, as was she.
She paced within her confined space, not yet willing to go out into the night and seek that indefinable thing and find out what it was. Yet her hackles were up and her restless grew with each passing hour. She felt trapped by circumstance, unable to let go of things in the recent past that haunted her. Mistakes she’d made, opportunities lost, just general bullshit that hadn’t yet found its place in her psyche to be buried.
She thought about calling Logi-Gal and Emo Chanel just to talk but realized that she didn’t feel like talking because she didn’t know what she would say. Pent up feelings are hard to express when you’re a superhero. Everyone expects that you deal with things well, because you have to. They don’t see the underneath, the darkness that always lurks in the corners of the mind, waiting for a chance to leap out and take you hostage. Every superhero is manic-depressive by nature.
The Wraith poured a healthy shot of Jameson’s, ready to down it in a single gulp, just to shut up the circus music in her head. Then, with great control, she took a single – albeit decent – sip and set the glass on the counter, promising to return to finish it.
She stared out at her city, wondering what Guy was up to tonight. Then she chased that thought away. No use wasting any more energy on something she was never going to have. The universe, the powers-that-be, their own fears of what could be all seemed to conspire against their ever being together and she had to accept that. It was too distracting to think that there was a future there of anything more than just a deep, special friendship. She knew it would break her heart the first time she saw him with another woman but it was something that she would have to face. Superheroes never get the... well, in this case... get the guy. They are always doomed to loneliness.
Such cheery thoughts tonight, she said to herself. Waiting was never her long suit.
She paced the perimeter once more, watching as the night grew short and the morning threatened to take over the day. She knew she should sleep but the thrumming of her nerves wouldn’t allow it. Even the whiskey didn’t take the edge off.
Something’s coming, she thought as she finally headed into her bedroom. Something most definitely is coming. Don’t know exactly what it is but I can feel it. She took off her 501’s and traded her man’s shirt for her Nick and Nora’s. Okay, superheroes do occasionally wear pajamas.
As the dark night sky gradually gave over to the beginnings of the sun, the Wraith finally began to feel the fingers of sleep crawling over her. As the traffic noise lulled her to sleep, her last thought was of Guy, because she simply couldn’t help herself, and a single tear sank into her pillow, lost, as was she.
Ch... ch... changes...
Need to make some changes – major changes – in my life. Not sure what yet. Just know it has to happen. Far too unhappy too much of the time.
First change has to be work. Have to find something other than transcription because my hands are suffering now. They ache constantly and it’s not fun. Even with all the precautions, it’s just time to stop.
The new job with actress/director is great but BORING! And huge drive from Atwater to Brentwood every day, with Bush-priced gas, I’m barely breaking even working for her. An hour and a half to get there, work for three hours, and then an hour home. $25 for a half a tank in my Hyundai. Is it worth it?
Needless to say, my personal life sucks and I’m sick of that. Sick of playing this game constantly, what’s he thinking, what am I thinking, am I over-thinking, blowing it out of proportion. Time is – has – come to put a pin in it and stop this rollercoaster.
Need major changes in my living environment. I knew this was going to be temporary when I moved in but it’s becoming more of a necessity for me to find a place that functions better for me. When I moved in here, I didn’t know what my life would be like a year from then. Now I have a better idea of what my life will be. I need an open space, something without walls, confines, tight spaces. Yeah, that’ll happen on my salary. I need somewhere quiet, peaceful. Or at least quiet and peaceful adjacent. No evil ice cream trucks, no fucking annoying neighbors. And, forgive how this sounds, somewhere that English is the primary language. I’m all for culture and all that, but I want my own culture. I don’t understand this neighborhood and I really don’t want to. Wow, that just sounds bad and wrong.
I need to find someone in my life. I can’t stand being alone. This is literally killing me. Everything in my life is colored by the fact that I come home to Twyla, who I adore, but there is no one to even call and say, good night, I miss you, wish you were here. I apparently can’t have the one that I want so, please, universe, provide me with someone or something else to distract me from the fact that there is nothing here for me.
As I’ve said before, I understand at times like these why my sister has moved so much. It seems so easy, so simple to just move to a new city, start over again, figure things out again. At least there’d be a new place to explore, new people to meet, new men to reject me. But, hey, it’d be new. I’ve been thinking seriously about that. There’s really nothing to hold me here. I love the Ark and I’ve done great work there. But is that enough? I love my friends but… And I’m a bit homesick for Canada. Maybe it was the box of evil from Kim last week but sometimes I miss Winnipeg. I don’t know that I could live there now, not after all the time here. But I think I miss the simplicity of the life I had there. It all seems to terribly complicated now.
Anyway, enough bitching. It’s been a very long couple of weeks, professionally and personally. And I know you all want more blogs on Cinderella but I honestly can’t write about it while I’m working on it, especially in this mood. It is the saving grace of my life, I can say that. My crew is awesome, the most amazing women and the best men (usually one on the set at any given time). My cast – can’t say enough about my cast. They can whip through 12 pages in four hours – those of you not in the film industry have no idea what I’m talking about but, trust me, it’s unheard of. I am humbled by each person involved with this project because their enthusiasm, pride and appreciation of this project is what makes me able to get out of bed every day. The footage is looking great and I can’t wait to see it all start to come together instead of seeing it one scene at a time.
I hope for more optimistic blogs soon. Seems I’m not the only one struggling right now and I hope that we all find ourselves on the other side of the struggle soon.
First change has to be work. Have to find something other than transcription because my hands are suffering now. They ache constantly and it’s not fun. Even with all the precautions, it’s just time to stop.
The new job with actress/director is great but BORING! And huge drive from Atwater to Brentwood every day, with Bush-priced gas, I’m barely breaking even working for her. An hour and a half to get there, work for three hours, and then an hour home. $25 for a half a tank in my Hyundai. Is it worth it?
Needless to say, my personal life sucks and I’m sick of that. Sick of playing this game constantly, what’s he thinking, what am I thinking, am I over-thinking, blowing it out of proportion. Time is – has – come to put a pin in it and stop this rollercoaster.
Need major changes in my living environment. I knew this was going to be temporary when I moved in but it’s becoming more of a necessity for me to find a place that functions better for me. When I moved in here, I didn’t know what my life would be like a year from then. Now I have a better idea of what my life will be. I need an open space, something without walls, confines, tight spaces. Yeah, that’ll happen on my salary. I need somewhere quiet, peaceful. Or at least quiet and peaceful adjacent. No evil ice cream trucks, no fucking annoying neighbors. And, forgive how this sounds, somewhere that English is the primary language. I’m all for culture and all that, but I want my own culture. I don’t understand this neighborhood and I really don’t want to. Wow, that just sounds bad and wrong.
I need to find someone in my life. I can’t stand being alone. This is literally killing me. Everything in my life is colored by the fact that I come home to Twyla, who I adore, but there is no one to even call and say, good night, I miss you, wish you were here. I apparently can’t have the one that I want so, please, universe, provide me with someone or something else to distract me from the fact that there is nothing here for me.
As I’ve said before, I understand at times like these why my sister has moved so much. It seems so easy, so simple to just move to a new city, start over again, figure things out again. At least there’d be a new place to explore, new people to meet, new men to reject me. But, hey, it’d be new. I’ve been thinking seriously about that. There’s really nothing to hold me here. I love the Ark and I’ve done great work there. But is that enough? I love my friends but… And I’m a bit homesick for Canada. Maybe it was the box of evil from Kim last week but sometimes I miss Winnipeg. I don’t know that I could live there now, not after all the time here. But I think I miss the simplicity of the life I had there. It all seems to terribly complicated now.
Anyway, enough bitching. It’s been a very long couple of weeks, professionally and personally. And I know you all want more blogs on Cinderella but I honestly can’t write about it while I’m working on it, especially in this mood. It is the saving grace of my life, I can say that. My crew is awesome, the most amazing women and the best men (usually one on the set at any given time). My cast – can’t say enough about my cast. They can whip through 12 pages in four hours – those of you not in the film industry have no idea what I’m talking about but, trust me, it’s unheard of. I am humbled by each person involved with this project because their enthusiasm, pride and appreciation of this project is what makes me able to get out of bed every day. The footage is looking great and I can’t wait to see it all start to come together instead of seeing it one scene at a time.
I hope for more optimistic blogs soon. Seems I’m not the only one struggling right now and I hope that we all find ourselves on the other side of the struggle soon.
Tuesday, May 02, 2006
Missing sanctuary...
I miss my sanctuary - partly for purely selfish reasons, partly for purely personal reasons.
Selfishly, I miss the quiet, the peace, the actual sanctuary it was. No dogs, no loud neighbors, no skateboard kids. Just quiet and my Ipod. I got so much done there.
I don’t tolerate noise well, I’m learning. Maybe it’s my advanced age, maybe it’s my lack of tolerance of disrespectful people. But I can’t stand pointless, obnoxious noise.
It also felt safe to be there, protected. It was my space without really being my space. I could leave the boring, dull work space of my apartment behind and this was my creative work space.
These past few weeks, I’ve grown tired again of the noise and the mess and the general annoyance of my life. And with no sanctuary to go to, my frustration grows.
My personal reasons are complicated and multi-layered. I think some of the circumstances around the sanctuary scared me. I think I read too much into too little. I think I thought too much and reacted in the wrong way.
I know I regret not only leaving but the way I left. Sometimes, I’m just stupid and too impulsive, relying too much on my feelings and not enough on my head, especially when those feelings are muddy and unclear.
I think, too, sanctuary frightened me. I liked it. I liked it too much. I didn’t want to ever leave. I imagined things that were never going to happen, I let myself think about things being different in my life, things being what I wanted in my life. And I think I left because I was both afraid that these things would not come true and that they would come true.
So silly, so complicated, so confusing. So much regret for hurting the provider of the sanctuary, because this is someone I should not hurt. But sometimes the feelings are just too big and there is no other choice.
And I am once again restless, in search of sanctuary, missing the one I had and the provider of it.
Missing a lot lately…
Selfishly, I miss the quiet, the peace, the actual sanctuary it was. No dogs, no loud neighbors, no skateboard kids. Just quiet and my Ipod. I got so much done there.
I don’t tolerate noise well, I’m learning. Maybe it’s my advanced age, maybe it’s my lack of tolerance of disrespectful people. But I can’t stand pointless, obnoxious noise.
It also felt safe to be there, protected. It was my space without really being my space. I could leave the boring, dull work space of my apartment behind and this was my creative work space.
These past few weeks, I’ve grown tired again of the noise and the mess and the general annoyance of my life. And with no sanctuary to go to, my frustration grows.
My personal reasons are complicated and multi-layered. I think some of the circumstances around the sanctuary scared me. I think I read too much into too little. I think I thought too much and reacted in the wrong way.
I know I regret not only leaving but the way I left. Sometimes, I’m just stupid and too impulsive, relying too much on my feelings and not enough on my head, especially when those feelings are muddy and unclear.
I think, too, sanctuary frightened me. I liked it. I liked it too much. I didn’t want to ever leave. I imagined things that were never going to happen, I let myself think about things being different in my life, things being what I wanted in my life. And I think I left because I was both afraid that these things would not come true and that they would come true.
So silly, so complicated, so confusing. So much regret for hurting the provider of the sanctuary, because this is someone I should not hurt. But sometimes the feelings are just too big and there is no other choice.
And I am once again restless, in search of sanctuary, missing the one I had and the provider of it.
Missing a lot lately…
Monday, May 01, 2006
Mixed messages and the universe...
Okay, so I'm kinda doing the "he's just a friend and I'm gonna just enjoy that" thing, trying not to obsess and distort and the other 900 things I do. And this is my horoscope today:
Relationships develop in warp speed. You meet someone, like them, love them, and before you know it, you miss them when they're gone. Luckily, the feeling is mutual.
Thanks, universe, I needed that.
Relationships develop in warp speed. You meet someone, like them, love them, and before you know it, you miss them when they're gone. Luckily, the feeling is mutual.
Thanks, universe, I needed that.
Sunday, April 30, 2006
Me, today...
I wrote this long, self-pitying, self-indulgent, whiny-assed blog about my life. I won’t bore you with the details. Here’s the Reader’s Digest version:
- Big, bad case of the blues for weeks now. Magic pills helping somewhat but not enough.
- I’m dwelling on the relationships I’ve fucked up lately, which leads to...
- I miss my dear, dear friend so much and wish I could tell him without sounding like Glenn Close.
- I am so pathetically, utterly and completely alone and empty right now.
Me, in a nutshell.
Now I have to gather myself, find my happy face and go shoot for the afternoon. At least for a couple of hours, I’ll find some joy.
- Big, bad case of the blues for weeks now. Magic pills helping somewhat but not enough.
- I’m dwelling on the relationships I’ve fucked up lately, which leads to...
- I miss my dear, dear friend so much and wish I could tell him without sounding like Glenn Close.
- I am so pathetically, utterly and completely alone and empty right now.
Me, in a nutshell.
Now I have to gather myself, find my happy face and go shoot for the afternoon. At least for a couple of hours, I’ll find some joy.
Friday, April 28, 2006
The return... of the Wraith, at least
So the Wraith (in the guise of her mild-mannered alter-ego) sat back and just watched, relieved to be, for a while anyway, rid of the superhero persona for one evening. To just be one of the crowd, watching, listening, just being instead of trying to save the world in 2.5 seconds. The song stuck in her head seemed appropriate –“ I can’t stand to fly/I’m not naïve/I’m just out to find/the better part of me.”
She watched as Guy meandered around, laughing, singing, enjoying himself and thought for a moment how much she missed him while she was off saving the world... or at least her part of it. She realized, watching him, how much her nemesis… nemesi?… enemies almost broke her by getting into her head and using him as leverage, making her think strange and undesired thoughts, making her imagine things that weren’t there. She was so glad to just be back to herself and the simplicity of their relationship. Okay, so she’d admire him from afar and he’d always have a very special place in her heart but with Sucha Flert less of a threat and Zorta Friend quietly stowed away for the moment, she could just relax and enjoy their friendship.
It’s rare for a superhero to have a quiet evening so the Wraith hung on to it with both hands, not wanting the night to end. No distress calls, no warning signals lighting up the sky. Even her sixth sense – which had been working overtime on all the wrong things lately – seemed to be quiet and sedated tonight.
Logi-Gal sat across from her, also enjoying her evening free of sidekick-dom, although she and the Wraith did share a rockin’ duet. The Wraith appreciated her sidekick even more as she watched her laugh and clap and sing along, leaving the cares and woes of her own struggles with the infamous Crush Boy and the rest of the world behind just for this one evening.
For a brief moment, the Wraith wished her whole life could be this simple – friends, drinks, singing, laughing. Then she realized that, without the dangers in her life, without the risks and the chances that she takes every single day, she would not appreciate these simple joys as much. Having gone through such a dark patch recently with her enemies, barely surviving their mental torture and emotional torment, she appreciated being back in the light even more.
Again, the song played in her head – “I’m more than a bird/more than a plane/more than just a pretty face/beside the train.” I am so much more than that, she thought. More than my silly costume and the face that the public sees. “Even heroes have the right to bleed.”
She lingered longer than she should have, not wanting to leave this moment behind. There seemed to be so few of them lately. Finally, with a little regret, she wrapped Guy in a hug, bid him good night and headed out into the night, hoping that it stayed peaceful, that it let her hold on to this moment for just a little while longer – this plain, simple, easy moment – before the world encroached again and she’d have to don her boots and kick some ass.
©2006 Susan Lee/Life On Its Side
She watched as Guy meandered around, laughing, singing, enjoying himself and thought for a moment how much she missed him while she was off saving the world... or at least her part of it. She realized, watching him, how much her nemesis… nemesi?… enemies almost broke her by getting into her head and using him as leverage, making her think strange and undesired thoughts, making her imagine things that weren’t there. She was so glad to just be back to herself and the simplicity of their relationship. Okay, so she’d admire him from afar and he’d always have a very special place in her heart but with Sucha Flert less of a threat and Zorta Friend quietly stowed away for the moment, she could just relax and enjoy their friendship.
It’s rare for a superhero to have a quiet evening so the Wraith hung on to it with both hands, not wanting the night to end. No distress calls, no warning signals lighting up the sky. Even her sixth sense – which had been working overtime on all the wrong things lately – seemed to be quiet and sedated tonight.
Logi-Gal sat across from her, also enjoying her evening free of sidekick-dom, although she and the Wraith did share a rockin’ duet. The Wraith appreciated her sidekick even more as she watched her laugh and clap and sing along, leaving the cares and woes of her own struggles with the infamous Crush Boy and the rest of the world behind just for this one evening.
For a brief moment, the Wraith wished her whole life could be this simple – friends, drinks, singing, laughing. Then she realized that, without the dangers in her life, without the risks and the chances that she takes every single day, she would not appreciate these simple joys as much. Having gone through such a dark patch recently with her enemies, barely surviving their mental torture and emotional torment, she appreciated being back in the light even more.
Again, the song played in her head – “I’m more than a bird/more than a plane/more than just a pretty face/beside the train.” I am so much more than that, she thought. More than my silly costume and the face that the public sees. “Even heroes have the right to bleed.”
She lingered longer than she should have, not wanting to leave this moment behind. There seemed to be so few of them lately. Finally, with a little regret, she wrapped Guy in a hug, bid him good night and headed out into the night, hoping that it stayed peaceful, that it let her hold on to this moment for just a little while longer – this plain, simple, easy moment – before the world encroached again and she’d have to don her boots and kick some ass.
©2006 Susan Lee/Life On Its Side
Thursday, April 27, 2006
Many thanks
I am overwhelmed with the supportive, encouraging responses of late. I do appreciate it.
I am in the mulling stage right now of what to do next in so many areas of my life, including this blog. I do think I'll return here, it's just a matter of how.
I return positive energy to all of you who have sent it to me. May we all find our way and find our joy.
I am in the mulling stage right now of what to do next in so many areas of my life, including this blog. I do think I'll return here, it's just a matter of how.
I return positive energy to all of you who have sent it to me. May we all find our way and find our joy.
Wednesday, April 26, 2006
And so it goes...
This may be the last post – either for a while or permanently. Some things are meant to be a season and not a lifetime. And maybe it’s time for this mid-life diary to come to an end.
So many things that used to bring me joy and pleasure and comfort and release now seem to be complicated, difficult and fraught with pain. Maybe it’s part of the season, the growth, the shedding of this skin, like my friend, Monica, talked about recently on her blog. That makes sense. To shed the things from this past year in order to move on to whatever the next year has to offer.
In reflecting on the past year, I can’t help but look at what has gone from joyous to challenging to lost.
The first thing, of course, is the feeling that I have pushed away one of my best friends. I made the mistake of thinking I was falling in love with him. And I think I was – or did – or have. But, unfortunately, he wasn’t/isn’t/doesn’t want to be in love with me and that’s actually fine. I’m dealing with it. But it’s hard because he has been one of the best things in my life and now it’s just odd and weird and uncomfortable when we’re around each other. Maybe it’ll settle into whatever it’s supposed to be or maybe this is what it’s supposed to be. I don’t know but I’ve got to let it – and him – go, as painful and difficult as it is.
Then there are things I used to love to do that now I’m almost embarrassed to show my face. I’ve kinda made an idiot of myself over my feelings for this man and I’m sure there has been some gossip and whispering about this and I’m aware of that now and it makes it hard for me to go to the places that I love, that brought me such joy, just because I tend to say too much to the wrong people then I’m embarrassed about what I’ve confessed. Again, maybe it was only a transitional place to rest on the way. I don’t know.
A major part of some of the problems and challenges going on around me are a direct result of the words contained in this silly, meaningless, indulgent space that has allowed me to just let out all the feelings and emotions that I can’t always say out loud. I swore when I started this blog that it would be completely honest and personal and open, no matter what. However, recent events have shown me that even being this open in cyberspace can be a problem. People in your life don’t want you to be this open, even if it’s on a non-existent plane. I never used to worry about who read this stuff and what they would think. It was supposed to be just a place where I could put my feelings and never worry about being judged, evaluated, criticized or condemned.
Well, I couldn’t be more wrong. I now am aware of who reads and what they think. I’ve started being more guarded about what I write. I’ve taken down my blog on Myspace because of concern over who was reading and what they might think. I am getting criticism and condemnation from those I love and those I don’t even know (but I suspect I know) about my emotions, my thoughts, my feelings. So the one place I felt safe putting my thoughts and emotions has now become unsafe and diminished. And if I can’t say exactly what I want without worrying about the repercussions of those words, then this is not the place for me to put those things.
So I’ll find somewhere else, more private, more secluded, more closed off, to channel my feelings. I did enjoy sharing this past nine months of my life with all of you. I never thought anyone would actually read this thing, never mind respond the way so many of you have. I am grateful for your encouragement, your occasional butt-kicking and your graciousness in sharing your lives with me with your own blogs. I will continue to follow your lives through your words and wish you the joy that I somehow seemed to have misplaced lately.
Several of you have told me that I’m inspiring and that I’m some sort of role model for those going through this transition in their life. I appreciate that but I am no more a role model or inspiration for anyone than any of you out there. I am a 44-year-old woman who can’t pay her rent, who finds most mornings that it is difficult to find the motivation to get out of bed, who is fucked up and messed up and has no clue what to do when someone amazing is standing in front of them. I am a ball of emotion, most of it almost uncontrollable, and I am weak and sad and wounded, just like all of you who have been reading along. But I do think the inspiration lies in what we have been able to bring to each other, to share with each other, to see in each other, as we have embarked on this journey. It is a collective inspiration, a collective group of role models that should be celebrated and embraced.
I look forward to your further adventures and I hope that maybe I can return here some time and pick up my own adventure again. Happy trails…
So many things that used to bring me joy and pleasure and comfort and release now seem to be complicated, difficult and fraught with pain. Maybe it’s part of the season, the growth, the shedding of this skin, like my friend, Monica, talked about recently on her blog. That makes sense. To shed the things from this past year in order to move on to whatever the next year has to offer.
In reflecting on the past year, I can’t help but look at what has gone from joyous to challenging to lost.
The first thing, of course, is the feeling that I have pushed away one of my best friends. I made the mistake of thinking I was falling in love with him. And I think I was – or did – or have. But, unfortunately, he wasn’t/isn’t/doesn’t want to be in love with me and that’s actually fine. I’m dealing with it. But it’s hard because he has been one of the best things in my life and now it’s just odd and weird and uncomfortable when we’re around each other. Maybe it’ll settle into whatever it’s supposed to be or maybe this is what it’s supposed to be. I don’t know but I’ve got to let it – and him – go, as painful and difficult as it is.
Then there are things I used to love to do that now I’m almost embarrassed to show my face. I’ve kinda made an idiot of myself over my feelings for this man and I’m sure there has been some gossip and whispering about this and I’m aware of that now and it makes it hard for me to go to the places that I love, that brought me such joy, just because I tend to say too much to the wrong people then I’m embarrassed about what I’ve confessed. Again, maybe it was only a transitional place to rest on the way. I don’t know.
A major part of some of the problems and challenges going on around me are a direct result of the words contained in this silly, meaningless, indulgent space that has allowed me to just let out all the feelings and emotions that I can’t always say out loud. I swore when I started this blog that it would be completely honest and personal and open, no matter what. However, recent events have shown me that even being this open in cyberspace can be a problem. People in your life don’t want you to be this open, even if it’s on a non-existent plane. I never used to worry about who read this stuff and what they would think. It was supposed to be just a place where I could put my feelings and never worry about being judged, evaluated, criticized or condemned.
Well, I couldn’t be more wrong. I now am aware of who reads and what they think. I’ve started being more guarded about what I write. I’ve taken down my blog on Myspace because of concern over who was reading and what they might think. I am getting criticism and condemnation from those I love and those I don’t even know (but I suspect I know) about my emotions, my thoughts, my feelings. So the one place I felt safe putting my thoughts and emotions has now become unsafe and diminished. And if I can’t say exactly what I want without worrying about the repercussions of those words, then this is not the place for me to put those things.
So I’ll find somewhere else, more private, more secluded, more closed off, to channel my feelings. I did enjoy sharing this past nine months of my life with all of you. I never thought anyone would actually read this thing, never mind respond the way so many of you have. I am grateful for your encouragement, your occasional butt-kicking and your graciousness in sharing your lives with me with your own blogs. I will continue to follow your lives through your words and wish you the joy that I somehow seemed to have misplaced lately.
Several of you have told me that I’m inspiring and that I’m some sort of role model for those going through this transition in their life. I appreciate that but I am no more a role model or inspiration for anyone than any of you out there. I am a 44-year-old woman who can’t pay her rent, who finds most mornings that it is difficult to find the motivation to get out of bed, who is fucked up and messed up and has no clue what to do when someone amazing is standing in front of them. I am a ball of emotion, most of it almost uncontrollable, and I am weak and sad and wounded, just like all of you who have been reading along. But I do think the inspiration lies in what we have been able to bring to each other, to share with each other, to see in each other, as we have embarked on this journey. It is a collective inspiration, a collective group of role models that should be celebrated and embraced.
I look forward to your further adventures and I hope that maybe I can return here some time and pick up my own adventure again. Happy trails…
Tuesday, April 25, 2006
Full Circle
I think I’ve put a finger on why I’ve been so out of sorts lately. Things have begun to come full circle.
A year ago, we were just getting knee deep into “Lloyd’s Prayer,” a life-changing production for me in so many ways, which seem to become more poignant and more weighted with every passing day. I was working “The Real Inspector Hound” as production manager and on “Hamlet.” And I was directing for the second year at the USC One Act Playwriting Festival. Oh, yeah, and the Slamdance reading. Damn. April 2005 was busy.
So many things fell apart during that time, so many difficulties and challenges and frustrations. It was an extremely difficult, rewarding, inspiring, disheartening, heart-breaking, heart-lifting time.
It was also when I realized that my marriage was crawling to its end. I knew it was over but I was hanging on because I had promised to stick with counseling until August. I don’t remember why August was so important but I had agreed to it so I figured I would stick by it.
Then I clicked on the very thing I clicked on today – the registration for the 48 Hour Film Project. My friend, Perry, had encouraged me for years to do it and the one year I did get accepted, I couldn’t do it because we were opening “Sister Mary Ignatius Explains It All For You” at the Ark that same weekend. Could not do both, although I considered it.
When I clicked on that registration page a year ago, it was the sound that ended everything. My ex threw a fit, trying to find a way for me not to do this project. I still don’t understand what his anger was at what I was doing. Well, that’s a lie. I do understand parts of his anger. But, at the time, it just felt like one more thing he was trying to take away from me, one more thing that he felt I couldn’t do, shouldn’t do, wasn’t capable of doing. So I was determined to do it. He fought me hard. Then he began to take ownership of the project, which pissed me off even more. Don’t tell me what a bad thing this is then try to make it yours and not mine. I told him time and again, this is my project and it has to be mine alone. Yes, dear, our project. No, MY PROJECT. Right, our project.
As the date to shoot crept closer, I kept thinking, I don’t want him there. He’s always a problem on a set with me because I didn’t feel respected by him. It put me in a position of weakness instead of authority. I could not have that. I started to gather my cast/crew – lots of people from the Ark. Settled on a core group – Carlos, Erik, Chairman, Ann, JoBeth and a handful of other possibilities. The one I didn’t want was the one most determined to be there.
The hardest thing I ever had to say to my ex was “I don’t want you on the set.” June 21, 2005. It sounded so harsh, so childish, so petulant (my favorite word today). But it said everything that needed to be said. Or maybe I said, “I can’t have you on my set.” Doesn’t really matter. It was the truth and it was so much larger than that. The set was my life and I was asking him to not be in it anymore.
That was Tuesday. The 48 Hour Film Project began that Friday. It was the hardest and the most fulfilling weekend of my life. Hard because I really didn’t miss my ex being there. And that, as hard as it may be to believe, broke my heart. He should have been there. I should have wanted him there. He should have been able to allow me what I needed to do this. So many should have’s. The growing theme in our lives. He should have… I should have…
Then someone said it out loud at the screening – it was a good thing he wasn’t there. The set ran beautifully. The film, while certainly no masterpiece, came out quite good – all four minutes of it. The experience was a blast. It taught me about what I didn’t know, a lot of which I have hopefully applied to “Cinderella.”
But it hurt to come home after I drew my genre Friday night – mystery, his specialty – and not be able to sit down at the computer and say, come write this with me. It hurt to spend the evening writing at a coffee shop so he wouldn’t be hurt, watching me work on this project. It hurt to be talking with Carlos about the script and my thoughts and the plot and not have it be my ex. It should have been but it couldn’t be.
He kept trying still to stick his fingers in the pie and I almost let him. I almost said, come to the set, come be a part of it. But a while later, when I actually let him watch the film, the first thing out of his mouth – less than 15 seconds in – was, “why did you do that, I would have done…” and I knew I had made the right choice.
So, 365 days and 360 degrees later, I still know I made the right choice. It hurts and it’s hard and, sometimes (not often, sadly enough) I miss him. He could be wonderful. He’s a good man, deep inside, and means well and never meant to hurt me the way he did, just as I never meant to hurt him the way I did.
I chose this sometimes lonely, sometimes depressing, sometimes dark and frustrating and infuriating and wounding life that can also be so fulfilling, so joyful, so free, so open, so easy because I wanted the things in my life to be my choice. I may not have always chosen well since and, recently, I have made many, many horrendous missteps in the name of love and friendship and jealousy and a few other unflattering traits. But they are my choices. And I chose today to click once again on that registration and see where the next 365 days and 360 degrees will take me.
A year ago, we were just getting knee deep into “Lloyd’s Prayer,” a life-changing production for me in so many ways, which seem to become more poignant and more weighted with every passing day. I was working “The Real Inspector Hound” as production manager and on “Hamlet.” And I was directing for the second year at the USC One Act Playwriting Festival. Oh, yeah, and the Slamdance reading. Damn. April 2005 was busy.
So many things fell apart during that time, so many difficulties and challenges and frustrations. It was an extremely difficult, rewarding, inspiring, disheartening, heart-breaking, heart-lifting time.
It was also when I realized that my marriage was crawling to its end. I knew it was over but I was hanging on because I had promised to stick with counseling until August. I don’t remember why August was so important but I had agreed to it so I figured I would stick by it.
Then I clicked on the very thing I clicked on today – the registration for the 48 Hour Film Project. My friend, Perry, had encouraged me for years to do it and the one year I did get accepted, I couldn’t do it because we were opening “Sister Mary Ignatius Explains It All For You” at the Ark that same weekend. Could not do both, although I considered it.
When I clicked on that registration page a year ago, it was the sound that ended everything. My ex threw a fit, trying to find a way for me not to do this project. I still don’t understand what his anger was at what I was doing. Well, that’s a lie. I do understand parts of his anger. But, at the time, it just felt like one more thing he was trying to take away from me, one more thing that he felt I couldn’t do, shouldn’t do, wasn’t capable of doing. So I was determined to do it. He fought me hard. Then he began to take ownership of the project, which pissed me off even more. Don’t tell me what a bad thing this is then try to make it yours and not mine. I told him time and again, this is my project and it has to be mine alone. Yes, dear, our project. No, MY PROJECT. Right, our project.
As the date to shoot crept closer, I kept thinking, I don’t want him there. He’s always a problem on a set with me because I didn’t feel respected by him. It put me in a position of weakness instead of authority. I could not have that. I started to gather my cast/crew – lots of people from the Ark. Settled on a core group – Carlos, Erik, Chairman, Ann, JoBeth and a handful of other possibilities. The one I didn’t want was the one most determined to be there.
The hardest thing I ever had to say to my ex was “I don’t want you on the set.” June 21, 2005. It sounded so harsh, so childish, so petulant (my favorite word today). But it said everything that needed to be said. Or maybe I said, “I can’t have you on my set.” Doesn’t really matter. It was the truth and it was so much larger than that. The set was my life and I was asking him to not be in it anymore.
That was Tuesday. The 48 Hour Film Project began that Friday. It was the hardest and the most fulfilling weekend of my life. Hard because I really didn’t miss my ex being there. And that, as hard as it may be to believe, broke my heart. He should have been there. I should have wanted him there. He should have been able to allow me what I needed to do this. So many should have’s. The growing theme in our lives. He should have… I should have…
Then someone said it out loud at the screening – it was a good thing he wasn’t there. The set ran beautifully. The film, while certainly no masterpiece, came out quite good – all four minutes of it. The experience was a blast. It taught me about what I didn’t know, a lot of which I have hopefully applied to “Cinderella.”
But it hurt to come home after I drew my genre Friday night – mystery, his specialty – and not be able to sit down at the computer and say, come write this with me. It hurt to spend the evening writing at a coffee shop so he wouldn’t be hurt, watching me work on this project. It hurt to be talking with Carlos about the script and my thoughts and the plot and not have it be my ex. It should have been but it couldn’t be.
He kept trying still to stick his fingers in the pie and I almost let him. I almost said, come to the set, come be a part of it. But a while later, when I actually let him watch the film, the first thing out of his mouth – less than 15 seconds in – was, “why did you do that, I would have done…” and I knew I had made the right choice.
So, 365 days and 360 degrees later, I still know I made the right choice. It hurts and it’s hard and, sometimes (not often, sadly enough) I miss him. He could be wonderful. He’s a good man, deep inside, and means well and never meant to hurt me the way he did, just as I never meant to hurt him the way I did.
I chose this sometimes lonely, sometimes depressing, sometimes dark and frustrating and infuriating and wounding life that can also be so fulfilling, so joyful, so free, so open, so easy because I wanted the things in my life to be my choice. I may not have always chosen well since and, recently, I have made many, many horrendous missteps in the name of love and friendship and jealousy and a few other unflattering traits. But they are my choices. And I chose today to click once again on that registration and see where the next 365 days and 360 degrees will take me.
Sunday, April 23, 2006
Careful what you wish for...
Have had a couple of really good days filming “Cinderella.” It’s really coming together and I’m very proud of the work that this small, amazing cast and crew comprised of mainly women (with a few token boys thrown in for fun) is doing. I have already edited one scene down to a “fine rough” cut – a tough scene for me when I was writing this as it dealt with some things my first ex-husband once said to me – and I love it. I’m working on a monster of a scene (11-1/2 pages) involving the two sisters that is coming together but it’s taking longer than I had expected. I slammed together our guerrilla night at Hollywood & Highland (9 pages/4 hours) and it’s actually pretty good, considering the conditions. Had to cancel a shoot day yesterday because of no extras for a scene that required them – batch of communication issues with missed emails and mysterious bounce-backs. But we all bonded and I think it made today a better day, ironically. Today’s shoot was a bit long due to special effects make-up – a huge $35 expenditure. Hopefully, it’ll look good when I actually watch the footage. If not, I think I have options in the edit.
Very happy with this group of almost strangers I have been working with. First, Kate, our DP the first weekend, I met at a party and she and I worked like old friends. Same thing of Beth today. Great suggestions, great eye, easy to get along with. Megan, our scripty, is terrific and on the ball. And Tracey G., as always, one great chick. Our two make-up girls today were terrific and did a lovely job turning Dean into the Big Bad Wolf. Dean commented on how well we all worked together and was surprised to learn that we (other than Tracey and I) had really only begun working together. Truly a blessed gathering of goddesses on this flick.
But, as with so many things over the last year, blessing mixed with conflicted feelings. Coming home to an empty house (okay, my roomie was home and that’s great but…), not having that other person to say, hey, wasn’t today great, let’s talk about the scenes, hash out what’s next, all that stuff, I still miss. I’m not yet used to doing this all by myself, which is, ironically, what I wanted. So there’s the catch-22 – I want this but I don’t want this. I’m kind of editing in a vacuum. I like what I’m doing but I wish there were other eyes to look at it and tell me, productively and constructively, what it needs, what it’s missing, if anything. Hard for me to step back at this point and see objectively what I’m doing. I miss the other half – at least the professional other half to help me see what I’m doing.
And it’s always tied into my personally missing having someone here. Again, I chose this life. I knew it would be hard. Some days, it’s harder than others. This last week or so has been unbearably difficult. Fighting off the dark blacks gets harder by the day. Magic soy pills haven’t helped yet, keep hoping they’ll kick in and the darkness will lift. Just feeling so isolated and alone and haven’t figured out how to get past that yet. Chose to isolate myself a particular time or two for certain reasons, which only adds to the loneliness.
I know this is part of the transition that is my life and that, in the long run, it’ll all make sense and I’ll go, oh, that’s why I was alone and empty for so long, because I needed it to get to… wherever it is that I’m going. Maybe to appreciate the one person who is supposed to be the next one, maybe to just appreciate myself more. Right now, the purpose of this aching and loneliness and missing my good friend and missing having someone there and just emptiness is not clear. I’m doing a bit better at trusting the universe to guide me and show me where I’m heading. I’m doing a bit better at just letting things be as they are, not pushing, not prying, not trying to manipulate. It’s hard because that’s what I want to do but am fighting against.
Damn, I’m not even sure if this blog makes sense tonight. I shouldn’t do this after a long day of shooting, which comes after about two weeks of really, truly not sleeping, which follows so many other things. Time to climb into my jammies, cuddle up with the one consistent love of my life – Twyla – and try to close my mind, say my prayers and trust that tomorrow, a little of the blackness will lift and I will find the hope I seem to missing lately.
Very happy with this group of almost strangers I have been working with. First, Kate, our DP the first weekend, I met at a party and she and I worked like old friends. Same thing of Beth today. Great suggestions, great eye, easy to get along with. Megan, our scripty, is terrific and on the ball. And Tracey G., as always, one great chick. Our two make-up girls today were terrific and did a lovely job turning Dean into the Big Bad Wolf. Dean commented on how well we all worked together and was surprised to learn that we (other than Tracey and I) had really only begun working together. Truly a blessed gathering of goddesses on this flick.
But, as with so many things over the last year, blessing mixed with conflicted feelings. Coming home to an empty house (okay, my roomie was home and that’s great but…), not having that other person to say, hey, wasn’t today great, let’s talk about the scenes, hash out what’s next, all that stuff, I still miss. I’m not yet used to doing this all by myself, which is, ironically, what I wanted. So there’s the catch-22 – I want this but I don’t want this. I’m kind of editing in a vacuum. I like what I’m doing but I wish there were other eyes to look at it and tell me, productively and constructively, what it needs, what it’s missing, if anything. Hard for me to step back at this point and see objectively what I’m doing. I miss the other half – at least the professional other half to help me see what I’m doing.
And it’s always tied into my personally missing having someone here. Again, I chose this life. I knew it would be hard. Some days, it’s harder than others. This last week or so has been unbearably difficult. Fighting off the dark blacks gets harder by the day. Magic soy pills haven’t helped yet, keep hoping they’ll kick in and the darkness will lift. Just feeling so isolated and alone and haven’t figured out how to get past that yet. Chose to isolate myself a particular time or two for certain reasons, which only adds to the loneliness.
I know this is part of the transition that is my life and that, in the long run, it’ll all make sense and I’ll go, oh, that’s why I was alone and empty for so long, because I needed it to get to… wherever it is that I’m going. Maybe to appreciate the one person who is supposed to be the next one, maybe to just appreciate myself more. Right now, the purpose of this aching and loneliness and missing my good friend and missing having someone there and just emptiness is not clear. I’m doing a bit better at trusting the universe to guide me and show me where I’m heading. I’m doing a bit better at just letting things be as they are, not pushing, not prying, not trying to manipulate. It’s hard because that’s what I want to do but am fighting against.
Damn, I’m not even sure if this blog makes sense tonight. I shouldn’t do this after a long day of shooting, which comes after about two weeks of really, truly not sleeping, which follows so many other things. Time to climb into my jammies, cuddle up with the one consistent love of my life – Twyla – and try to close my mind, say my prayers and trust that tomorrow, a little of the blackness will lift and I will find the hope I seem to missing lately.
Saturday, April 22, 2006
Just thinking...
I miss you.
And I’m sorry.
Some day, hopefully soon, I’ll find a way to tell you that.
There is a lot more I want to write – about you, about this week in general, just about things – but I think I’ll keep things private for a while, until I sort them out in my head first. Blogging from such an emotional place is a little like drunk dialing – it seems like a good idea at the time, but then the next day…
And I’m sorry.
Some day, hopefully soon, I’ll find a way to tell you that.
There is a lot more I want to write – about you, about this week in general, just about things – but I think I’ll keep things private for a while, until I sort them out in my head first. Blogging from such an emotional place is a little like drunk dialing – it seems like a good idea at the time, but then the next day…
Wednesday, April 19, 2006
Trust
I forgot to trust. Trust the universe, trust God, trust myself. I forgot that that plays a huge part in my life and what I’m trying to do. Trust, very Taoist concept. Don’t fight nature, work with nature, accept what is in front of you and deal with it. I forgot that.
I forgot what the ink on my wrist means. Blessing and enlightenment. Destiny. Those two things, so important, important enough to scar and maim myself. Yet I forgot them, even though I look at them every day, all day.
I forgot to let go. I held on so tightly to things, good or bad, and forgot to let them have their air and their time and their space. I allowed too much fear in and that made everything distorted and wrong.
Mostly, I forgot to trust in myself, in those little voices in my head (not the clowns but the gentle, peaceful voices that sometimes are drown out by the clowns). I forgot my intuition and my heart and my soul and let my head and my belly and my insecurity run the show. Hard to let that go after 16 years of having it pounded into my head every day. Relapses sneak up on me and my doubts immediately take hold and run with things.
I forgot so many things.
This is the lyric that’s been playing in my head all week, the one thing I can’t seem to forget (it’s been a Melissa Etheridge week):
And he speaks to me of business
When I ask him how he’s been
Keeps me at a distance
Never getting under the skin
Can he make a new beginning
Does he even want to try
Or will he only let it die
The boy feels strange
Oh the boy has changed
Trying to let go and trust that friendship will prevail, that the universe will provide time and space and comfort to talk and to do what we need to do. I’ve been trying to force the universe and universe doesn’t like it when I do that. It always backfires. I forgot that, too.
Trying to trust that, if we are to pass by each other, that I will deal with it and miss him terribly but know that it’s what is meant to be. Back to Taoism, back to basics, back to trust.
I forgot what the ink on my wrist means. Blessing and enlightenment. Destiny. Those two things, so important, important enough to scar and maim myself. Yet I forgot them, even though I look at them every day, all day.
I forgot to let go. I held on so tightly to things, good or bad, and forgot to let them have their air and their time and their space. I allowed too much fear in and that made everything distorted and wrong.
Mostly, I forgot to trust in myself, in those little voices in my head (not the clowns but the gentle, peaceful voices that sometimes are drown out by the clowns). I forgot my intuition and my heart and my soul and let my head and my belly and my insecurity run the show. Hard to let that go after 16 years of having it pounded into my head every day. Relapses sneak up on me and my doubts immediately take hold and run with things.
I forgot so many things.
This is the lyric that’s been playing in my head all week, the one thing I can’t seem to forget (it’s been a Melissa Etheridge week):
And he speaks to me of business
When I ask him how he’s been
Keeps me at a distance
Never getting under the skin
Can he make a new beginning
Does he even want to try
Or will he only let it die
The boy feels strange
Oh the boy has changed
Trying to let go and trust that friendship will prevail, that the universe will provide time and space and comfort to talk and to do what we need to do. I’ve been trying to force the universe and universe doesn’t like it when I do that. It always backfires. I forgot that, too.
Trying to trust that, if we are to pass by each other, that I will deal with it and miss him terribly but know that it’s what is meant to be. Back to Taoism, back to basics, back to trust.
Sunday, April 16, 2006
A "gift"
I have a gift – a gift for driving away the men that are important to me. I did it last year with someone who, while he turned out to be a bit of a… well, not very nice man, he was still very important to me until I stepped over a line and pushed him too far in some way. He retaliated very viciously and very hurtfully. In that case, it was easy for me to step away and say, oh, he’s an asshole. It’s all his fault. But inside, I knew I played a part and had done something to push him away.
And now, I think I’ve succeeded in doing it again. This time, someone very important and very dear to me. And I didn’t realize how hard I was pushing and forcing until I think it is almost too late. He apparently can’t even be in the same room with me. I hope very much that it’s a temporary thing and he’s just pissed off at me – for which he has good reason – and that it will pass. I’ve done a lot of very stupid, childish, immature things in the past few weeks and I’m sure I’ve hurt him and crossed many boundaries that shouldn’t be crossed. And now, I don’t know if there is anything to do to fix it. My heart breaks at the thought that I will lose him and that I know that I caused it.
Once upon a time, there were four men who were “my boys,” who took great care of me, who made me feel like the person I wanted to be. One was lost last year and now the most important of them is probably gone, too. It terrifies me that I might actually succeed in pushing all of them away, one by one, and be left alone, any memories of them tarnished by my stupidity.
I probably shouldn’t post this because I think this on-going blog is one of the reasons I’ve lost this one. I can say things in here that I can’t in real life, and maybe that’s not a good thing. I’ve removed my blog from Myspace because it’s just too intimate and incestuous there. I will probably stay on there for a while just to keep in touch but maintain this space for this blog. If someone wants to read it, they can come and find it. Most of them know where it is, so I think the ones that want to read it will follow it.
I don’t know what to do right now. Anything I do seems to be wrong and misguided. I’ll try to trust that our friendship is as strong as I hope it is and that this will blow over and we’ll be back to our old selves again. And I’ll be sure to tread carefully this time around and not crush toes under my cloddy feet. I just hope I get that chance.
And now, I think I’ve succeeded in doing it again. This time, someone very important and very dear to me. And I didn’t realize how hard I was pushing and forcing until I think it is almost too late. He apparently can’t even be in the same room with me. I hope very much that it’s a temporary thing and he’s just pissed off at me – for which he has good reason – and that it will pass. I’ve done a lot of very stupid, childish, immature things in the past few weeks and I’m sure I’ve hurt him and crossed many boundaries that shouldn’t be crossed. And now, I don’t know if there is anything to do to fix it. My heart breaks at the thought that I will lose him and that I know that I caused it.
Once upon a time, there were four men who were “my boys,” who took great care of me, who made me feel like the person I wanted to be. One was lost last year and now the most important of them is probably gone, too. It terrifies me that I might actually succeed in pushing all of them away, one by one, and be left alone, any memories of them tarnished by my stupidity.
I probably shouldn’t post this because I think this on-going blog is one of the reasons I’ve lost this one. I can say things in here that I can’t in real life, and maybe that’s not a good thing. I’ve removed my blog from Myspace because it’s just too intimate and incestuous there. I will probably stay on there for a while just to keep in touch but maintain this space for this blog. If someone wants to read it, they can come and find it. Most of them know where it is, so I think the ones that want to read it will follow it.
I don’t know what to do right now. Anything I do seems to be wrong and misguided. I’ll try to trust that our friendship is as strong as I hope it is and that this will blow over and we’ll be back to our old selves again. And I’ll be sure to tread carefully this time around and not crush toes under my cloddy feet. I just hope I get that chance.
The joy of being an over-40 female
I feel like I owe the entire world an apology for the last month or so. It just occurred to me today that I have been behaving rather oddly – not enough that I think anyone really noticed too much but I certainly have.
There are little signs that I was ignoring – feeling anxious and pent-up, which I attributed to starting filming; obsessing on one particular thing (hmmm, wonder what/who that could be) with no real coherent thoughts; playing spin the wheel of emotion on an hourly basis; over-thinking, over-reacting, over-everything-ing to everything. Then there’s the depression. I usually deal with that quite a bit so I’m used to it. But after the black darkness of a couple of weeks ago, then I woke up this morning and literally could not get myself out of bed, I thought, hmmm, I think there’s something wrong. Coupled with the fact that I exhausted so much of the time.
I realized this morning that all of those little signs mean one thing – I’m in my 40’s, I’m dealing with the wonders of mid-40’s hormones, and I have stopped taking these little wonder pills that got me through the last couple of years. I have been feeling really good and in control probably since I moved into this apartment and just gradually stopped taking these soy supplements that help even out moods, prevent other mid-40’s types of symptoms that most women go through but that I haven’t hit yet. Since I was feeling good, I stopped taking them.
Apparently, my hormones have enjoyed their hiatus but are now throwing a chaos party in my brain. My thoughts have been muddy, my reactions slow and my emotions on 11.
When I looked back at my lunch with Zadra on Friday and my incessant obsessing on OOMA and only OOMA, over-analyzing recent events, feeling so wildly out of control with my emotions, reading stupid things into everything he did and said and didn’t say, just rambling on and on more than usual, I thought that maybe there was something going on. Then last night it really hit me – I have been out of control for a while now. This morning brought it home with another blackness descending.
I went out tonight and picked up a big box o’ soy supplements and started back on them tonight. It’ll probably take a week for them to really kick in but hopefully I’ll be back to whatever passes as normal for me quickly.
I feel like I should apologize to all of you, because I think I have probably managed to do something that was odd or annoying or hurtful. Patty, Monica, Tiffany and Zadra have been particularly patient with my craziness and neuroses, tolerating my ramblings and listening and dispensing advice when, really, nothing they could say would actually help me. And Chairman who, by just proximity due to the film and our schedules, etc., bore the brunt of a lot of my whacked out emotional state but hasn’t yet run screaming for the hills. I think it’s easier for women to understand and relate to a crazy emotional woman but for men, sometimes, it’s not that easy. I feel like I owe him the biggest apology because he has been nothing but his usual sweet, giving, generous self and I feel like I have disrespected that. And there are a few others on the periphery who also got kind of bitch-slapped and should not have and I am sorry.
As for the OOMA, finally realizing why my emotions are strung tight and my feelings are so heightened, I also realized that my feelings for him may have been over-exaggerated due to the rampant hormone chaos within me. I still adore him and I still wouldn’t mind should he show up at my door and demand to sweep me off my feet and carry me away, but I realize that most of the feelings of need and want for him are not exactly real. They’re a combination of loneliness, of his generally charming personality, and of my whacked-out hormones. I am glad I haven’t managed to chase him off and hope that he sticks around for the sane me to return. I guess, in some ways, he’ll always be an OOMA, but not in the zany, out of control way I have been thinking of him, but in a sweet, cherished way that will always be there, no matter what the nature of our relationship.
So those of you females out there approaching that magic age of 40, do some research into the wonder drug that is Estroven, ask your doctor about it, start taking it as soon as you realize that you are no longer in control of your thoughts. It’s sneaky and these feelings will come up without you realizing it. But if your friends start looking at you funny or your best friend says, “Hey, is everything okay with you? You seem kinda weird lately,” take a good hard look at what you’re doing and how you’re behaving. Then check out these wonder pills and see what happens. I wish I had realized it sooner both the first time I went through this and my most recent voyage on the Good Ship Emotion. Hopefully, no irreparable damage has been done.
There are little signs that I was ignoring – feeling anxious and pent-up, which I attributed to starting filming; obsessing on one particular thing (hmmm, wonder what/who that could be) with no real coherent thoughts; playing spin the wheel of emotion on an hourly basis; over-thinking, over-reacting, over-everything-ing to everything. Then there’s the depression. I usually deal with that quite a bit so I’m used to it. But after the black darkness of a couple of weeks ago, then I woke up this morning and literally could not get myself out of bed, I thought, hmmm, I think there’s something wrong. Coupled with the fact that I exhausted so much of the time.
I realized this morning that all of those little signs mean one thing – I’m in my 40’s, I’m dealing with the wonders of mid-40’s hormones, and I have stopped taking these little wonder pills that got me through the last couple of years. I have been feeling really good and in control probably since I moved into this apartment and just gradually stopped taking these soy supplements that help even out moods, prevent other mid-40’s types of symptoms that most women go through but that I haven’t hit yet. Since I was feeling good, I stopped taking them.
Apparently, my hormones have enjoyed their hiatus but are now throwing a chaos party in my brain. My thoughts have been muddy, my reactions slow and my emotions on 11.
When I looked back at my lunch with Zadra on Friday and my incessant obsessing on OOMA and only OOMA, over-analyzing recent events, feeling so wildly out of control with my emotions, reading stupid things into everything he did and said and didn’t say, just rambling on and on more than usual, I thought that maybe there was something going on. Then last night it really hit me – I have been out of control for a while now. This morning brought it home with another blackness descending.
I went out tonight and picked up a big box o’ soy supplements and started back on them tonight. It’ll probably take a week for them to really kick in but hopefully I’ll be back to whatever passes as normal for me quickly.
I feel like I should apologize to all of you, because I think I have probably managed to do something that was odd or annoying or hurtful. Patty, Monica, Tiffany and Zadra have been particularly patient with my craziness and neuroses, tolerating my ramblings and listening and dispensing advice when, really, nothing they could say would actually help me. And Chairman who, by just proximity due to the film and our schedules, etc., bore the brunt of a lot of my whacked out emotional state but hasn’t yet run screaming for the hills. I think it’s easier for women to understand and relate to a crazy emotional woman but for men, sometimes, it’s not that easy. I feel like I owe him the biggest apology because he has been nothing but his usual sweet, giving, generous self and I feel like I have disrespected that. And there are a few others on the periphery who also got kind of bitch-slapped and should not have and I am sorry.
As for the OOMA, finally realizing why my emotions are strung tight and my feelings are so heightened, I also realized that my feelings for him may have been over-exaggerated due to the rampant hormone chaos within me. I still adore him and I still wouldn’t mind should he show up at my door and demand to sweep me off my feet and carry me away, but I realize that most of the feelings of need and want for him are not exactly real. They’re a combination of loneliness, of his generally charming personality, and of my whacked-out hormones. I am glad I haven’t managed to chase him off and hope that he sticks around for the sane me to return. I guess, in some ways, he’ll always be an OOMA, but not in the zany, out of control way I have been thinking of him, but in a sweet, cherished way that will always be there, no matter what the nature of our relationship.
So those of you females out there approaching that magic age of 40, do some research into the wonder drug that is Estroven, ask your doctor about it, start taking it as soon as you realize that you are no longer in control of your thoughts. It’s sneaky and these feelings will come up without you realizing it. But if your friends start looking at you funny or your best friend says, “Hey, is everything okay with you? You seem kinda weird lately,” take a good hard look at what you’re doing and how you’re behaving. Then check out these wonder pills and see what happens. I wish I had realized it sooner both the first time I went through this and my most recent voyage on the Good Ship Emotion. Hopefully, no irreparable damage has been done.
Saturday, April 15, 2006
And even more adventures...
The problem with being a superhero is the melancholy that plagues the alter-ego. When the cape is sent to the dry cleaners to get rid of the blood and the boots are in the shoemaker to get the heels replaced from running faster than light, the alter-ego is left to deal with the aftermath.
Such as it is with the Wraith.
Her alter-ego, mild-mannered writer/director, Susan, is left looking at what the Wraith has done in the past couple of weeks in the name of righting all the wrongs and doing everything right and making sure the balance hangs perfectly in the world. And it all seemed like a good idea at the time, when one is the Wraith. Striking out to put an end to ambiguity and deciding that taking her toys and going home was a good idea at the time leaves the mild-mannered W/D wondering if it really was. And the Wraith doesn’t always consider the feelings of those she is rescuing, regardless of whether they want to be rescued or not. The alter-ego then must deal with the questions and the doubts that consumer her every moment. The Wraith is impulsive and impetuous without thought, without care, because she’s a superhero. She can be. She just doesn’t stick around for the end result.
The mild-mannered W/D does. She looks at the chaos that the impetuous one has caused and wonders if it was all worth it. Maybe being impulsive isn’t the best thing to be. Maybe following an instinct that seems right at the time because it seems that it will put everything into perspective and right the wrongs isn’t the right thing to do. Maybe sometimes just sitting down and thinking things through is the better way to be a super-hero. Sometimes, it seems that the superhero part just makes things more difficult and more muddy.
The alter-ego must deal with the doubt and insecurity that the Wraith doesn’t have to. The alter-ego deals with the loneliness that comes both after the media and frenzy have gone away and with the emptiness that some of the Wraith’s actions cause. The Wraith never questions, the alter-ego is only about questions.
The alter-ego obsesses on things that can’t be changed – that moment in time when the Wraith left the note behind for the friend to find, without thought of consequence, only that it would make things right; that moment when the Wraith lashed out at what she thought was a minion of Sucha Flert, never realizing it was just a silly, lonely girl at a bar, looking for attention. Those are the moments that the alter-ego must deal with on rainy, dreary Saturdays, while the Wraith is resting peacefully somewhere inside her psyche, convinced that she has done the right thing.
This makes the alter-ego incapable of action because the superhero is all action. So the alter-ego cannot act when in situations where action is required. She hesitates, knowing that there are consequences for every word, every deed, because she deals with the Wraith’s consequences all the time. She cannot deal with her own as well.
So the alter-ego sits alone, watching the world go by, wishing that Guy would realize that she is the Wraith but knowing that he never will. Trying to figure out why, if she is a superhero inside, she can’t just seize the moment and be Wraith-like while in alter-ego mode. Trying to just get through the day until the superhero inside can be let out again, to run rampant and reckless, to be free and mindless, to be the Wraith once again for a while, no matter what the consequences.
Such as it is with the Wraith.
Her alter-ego, mild-mannered writer/director, Susan, is left looking at what the Wraith has done in the past couple of weeks in the name of righting all the wrongs and doing everything right and making sure the balance hangs perfectly in the world. And it all seemed like a good idea at the time, when one is the Wraith. Striking out to put an end to ambiguity and deciding that taking her toys and going home was a good idea at the time leaves the mild-mannered W/D wondering if it really was. And the Wraith doesn’t always consider the feelings of those she is rescuing, regardless of whether they want to be rescued or not. The alter-ego then must deal with the questions and the doubts that consumer her every moment. The Wraith is impulsive and impetuous without thought, without care, because she’s a superhero. She can be. She just doesn’t stick around for the end result.
The mild-mannered W/D does. She looks at the chaos that the impetuous one has caused and wonders if it was all worth it. Maybe being impulsive isn’t the best thing to be. Maybe following an instinct that seems right at the time because it seems that it will put everything into perspective and right the wrongs isn’t the right thing to do. Maybe sometimes just sitting down and thinking things through is the better way to be a super-hero. Sometimes, it seems that the superhero part just makes things more difficult and more muddy.
The alter-ego must deal with the doubt and insecurity that the Wraith doesn’t have to. The alter-ego deals with the loneliness that comes both after the media and frenzy have gone away and with the emptiness that some of the Wraith’s actions cause. The Wraith never questions, the alter-ego is only about questions.
The alter-ego obsesses on things that can’t be changed – that moment in time when the Wraith left the note behind for the friend to find, without thought of consequence, only that it would make things right; that moment when the Wraith lashed out at what she thought was a minion of Sucha Flert, never realizing it was just a silly, lonely girl at a bar, looking for attention. Those are the moments that the alter-ego must deal with on rainy, dreary Saturdays, while the Wraith is resting peacefully somewhere inside her psyche, convinced that she has done the right thing.
This makes the alter-ego incapable of action because the superhero is all action. So the alter-ego cannot act when in situations where action is required. She hesitates, knowing that there are consequences for every word, every deed, because she deals with the Wraith’s consequences all the time. She cannot deal with her own as well.
So the alter-ego sits alone, watching the world go by, wishing that Guy would realize that she is the Wraith but knowing that he never will. Trying to figure out why, if she is a superhero inside, she can’t just seize the moment and be Wraith-like while in alter-ego mode. Trying to just get through the day until the superhero inside can be let out again, to run rampant and reckless, to be free and mindless, to be the Wraith once again for a while, no matter what the consequences.
Further adventures of The Wraith...
So the Wraith has acquired two sidekicks – Logi-Gal, a sweet, quirky chick with all the answers, and Imo Chanel (it works if you read it fast), a svelte, quirky chick with all the emotions. They usually are a huge help to the Wraith, who sometimes needs to consult with one or the other. However, the Wraith can get into trouble with her sidekicks if she has to get help from them both at the same time. Logi-Gal tells her one thing, which is the logical, sensible answer to things, then Imo Chanel chimes in with her two cents, which usually involves anything but logic. This can send our heroine into long periods of over-thinking and hand-wringing over her current situation. She may go on to consult other heroines, who have similar sidekicks, and end up with too much conflicting information which brings our heroine to a standstill.
So the Wraith returns to her secret identity, the mild-mannered writer/director we shall call, oh, I don’t know, Susan, to contemplate and figure out what to do.
Meanwhile, the super-villain (male, of course), finds the heroine’s weakness – sending mixed signals. Is he a friend, is he something more? What does he want from me? Was that an answer or not? While the heroine sorts through her conflicting information and finds herself bound in a sea of indecision, the super-villain (we’ll call him, oh, I don’t know, Zorta Friend) wreaks havoc on unsuspecting women throughout the metropolis, leaving a wake of confused, wounded, angry women behind who don’t know if he was a friend or more.
Then appears the Wraith’s nemesis (did you know Nemesis was the goddess of retribution? And, by the way, there is no definition for “arch-nemesis” really. What is an arch-nemesis, as opposed to just a nemesis? Just a side thought.), a trendy, non-quirky, hard-looking woman called Sucha Flert. Sucha Flert throws flirts around that are shaped like ninja stars and leaves a wake of devastated men behind her who have no idea what hit them and shattered women who can’t figure out why their men have lost their minds. The men thought she was interested in them but were broken when they find she has no interest in them. She makes dates without any intention of keeping them, leaving men sitting for hours at bars, increasing alcoholism in rampant quantities throughout the country.
The Wraith discovers that Flert is in town. She discovers that Flert has set her sights on the object of the Wraith’s affection, oh, we’ll call him Guy (change the name to protect the innocent; yeah, right). Wraith wants to protect him from injury from Sucha Flert but is unable to because her sidekicks have given her too much information and the Wraith is caught up in a circular pattern of thought that she cannot seem to get out of. Little does she know that both Flert and Zorta have conspired to give the sidekicks conflicting information so that they will pass that confusion on to the Wraith, thereby rendering her ineffective.
Finally, the Wraith realizes that she’s been thinking too much about too many conflicting things and must simplify her thought process in order to escape the confusion that her sidekicks have inadvertently set upon her. When the Wraith is finally able to clear up her thoughts, she realizes that Guy has been dazzled by Flert and Zorta has gotten him to also send conflicting signals to Wraith. However, the Wraith is prepared, knowing that Guy may not be the man for her to fly off into the sunset with but she still loves him for the friend that he is, and confronts Flert with the challenge to prove her worthiness to Guy before she can continue with her wicked, underhanded plan to steal Guy from the Wraith. Flert figures she’s up for the challenge but, in the end, Flert cannot help herself and throws a flirt at another man in front of Guy, breaking her spell and releasing Guy for her hypnotic trance. Zorta tries to keep Guy sending his crossed signals but, once Flert is broken, Guy sees through Zotra’s plan and refuses to be confusing.
The Wraith and Guy leave the villains behind to rethink their plan to overthrow the world while they try to define their own relationship. Guy, however, is not yet aware of the Wraith’s secret identity and, when the Wraith leaves him to go conquer evil, Guy finds himself in the presence of Susan, whom he loves but doesn’t LOVE because he’s waiting for the return of the Wraith. While this frustrates our mild-mannered heroine, she knows eventually he’ll find out that she and the Wraith are one in the same and he will learn that the one he is in love with is really her.
Stay tuned for more adventures of The Wraith…
© Susan Lee 2006
(just in case)
So the Wraith returns to her secret identity, the mild-mannered writer/director we shall call, oh, I don’t know, Susan, to contemplate and figure out what to do.
Meanwhile, the super-villain (male, of course), finds the heroine’s weakness – sending mixed signals. Is he a friend, is he something more? What does he want from me? Was that an answer or not? While the heroine sorts through her conflicting information and finds herself bound in a sea of indecision, the super-villain (we’ll call him, oh, I don’t know, Zorta Friend) wreaks havoc on unsuspecting women throughout the metropolis, leaving a wake of confused, wounded, angry women behind who don’t know if he was a friend or more.
Then appears the Wraith’s nemesis (did you know Nemesis was the goddess of retribution? And, by the way, there is no definition for “arch-nemesis” really. What is an arch-nemesis, as opposed to just a nemesis? Just a side thought.), a trendy, non-quirky, hard-looking woman called Sucha Flert. Sucha Flert throws flirts around that are shaped like ninja stars and leaves a wake of devastated men behind her who have no idea what hit them and shattered women who can’t figure out why their men have lost their minds. The men thought she was interested in them but were broken when they find she has no interest in them. She makes dates without any intention of keeping them, leaving men sitting for hours at bars, increasing alcoholism in rampant quantities throughout the country.
The Wraith discovers that Flert is in town. She discovers that Flert has set her sights on the object of the Wraith’s affection, oh, we’ll call him Guy (change the name to protect the innocent; yeah, right). Wraith wants to protect him from injury from Sucha Flert but is unable to because her sidekicks have given her too much information and the Wraith is caught up in a circular pattern of thought that she cannot seem to get out of. Little does she know that both Flert and Zorta have conspired to give the sidekicks conflicting information so that they will pass that confusion on to the Wraith, thereby rendering her ineffective.
Finally, the Wraith realizes that she’s been thinking too much about too many conflicting things and must simplify her thought process in order to escape the confusion that her sidekicks have inadvertently set upon her. When the Wraith is finally able to clear up her thoughts, she realizes that Guy has been dazzled by Flert and Zorta has gotten him to also send conflicting signals to Wraith. However, the Wraith is prepared, knowing that Guy may not be the man for her to fly off into the sunset with but she still loves him for the friend that he is, and confronts Flert with the challenge to prove her worthiness to Guy before she can continue with her wicked, underhanded plan to steal Guy from the Wraith. Flert figures she’s up for the challenge but, in the end, Flert cannot help herself and throws a flirt at another man in front of Guy, breaking her spell and releasing Guy for her hypnotic trance. Zorta tries to keep Guy sending his crossed signals but, once Flert is broken, Guy sees through Zotra’s plan and refuses to be confusing.
The Wraith and Guy leave the villains behind to rethink their plan to overthrow the world while they try to define their own relationship. Guy, however, is not yet aware of the Wraith’s secret identity and, when the Wraith leaves him to go conquer evil, Guy finds himself in the presence of Susan, whom he loves but doesn’t LOVE because he’s waiting for the return of the Wraith. While this frustrates our mild-mannered heroine, she knows eventually he’ll find out that she and the Wraith are one in the same and he will learn that the one he is in love with is really her.
Stay tuned for more adventures of The Wraith…
© Susan Lee 2006
(just in case)
Friday, April 14, 2006
You'd think I'd learn
I am so stupid.
I have been led on for so long.
I have let myself be led on.
That stops now.
I have been led on for so long.
I have let myself be led on.
That stops now.
Thursday, April 13, 2006
I want to write...
I want to write the great romantic tragedy.
I’m not talking Romeo and Juliet, oh, that’s too bad, fucked up kids who thought they were in love and killed themselves kind of romantic tragedy.
I wanna write something that would make “Kill Bill Vol. 2” look like a Disney movie. You’re “just not that into me”? Then you die. Simple. Body parts amputated, heads lopped off, hearts ripped out, still beating, from the hole I punched into your chest. I’ll pine and I’ll whine and I’ll moan, then I’ll hunt you down and chop off your… well… use your imagination, you chicken shit punk ass loser. See if anyone will date you now.
More blood will be spilled, more mayhem will be caused than Uma and Lucy and Viveca and the Crazy 88’s combined. Many will wonder about the cute guy down the hall who used to have this female friend who he loved but didn’t LOVE and why he suddenly stopped being seen in the lobby, or why his newspapers have piled up so high and what IS that smell coming from his apartment?
The heroine would talk like Samuel L. Jackson in “Pulp Fiction,” spewing forth quotes from fairy tales as she beheads her victims. Fuck black leather and skin tight outfits. She’d be in jeans with vintage men’s shirts and a kick-ass cool long leather coat like something out of a John Woo film (cuz all his capes do that cool flip up in the wind thing). And, of course, wear red Santana boots. Her hair would be red and hell hath no fury like this woman scorned.
Of course, her alter ego would be a mild-mannered director/writer who seems to be a bit fragile, a bit unsure of herself, a bit hesitant about showing her real self to anyone. Those she shows her secret identity to will stand in front of bullets for her. However, god help the men who break her heart. Death, mayhem, Crazy 88’s.
Of course, she’d need a really cool name. Heartbreaker? I’m sure some guy would say Lovelorn. How about Wraith of Love/ Suggestions are welcome.
Maybe it’s the full moon. Yes, it’s full again. Seems to bring out the feisty in me. The OOMA must be no more and I must push past that and find a new one… or come to terms with not having anyone. He will always be special, he will always be adored… and I may spare him the blood bath, as our heroine must always have a weakness for one person that she simply cannot destroy – whether villain or friend. So, OOMA, consider yourself lucky to be spared the Wraith of Love… But be warned, others out there. Don’t break my heart, don’t piss me off, or she may come after you…
I’m not talking Romeo and Juliet, oh, that’s too bad, fucked up kids who thought they were in love and killed themselves kind of romantic tragedy.
I wanna write something that would make “Kill Bill Vol. 2” look like a Disney movie. You’re “just not that into me”? Then you die. Simple. Body parts amputated, heads lopped off, hearts ripped out, still beating, from the hole I punched into your chest. I’ll pine and I’ll whine and I’ll moan, then I’ll hunt you down and chop off your… well… use your imagination, you chicken shit punk ass loser. See if anyone will date you now.
More blood will be spilled, more mayhem will be caused than Uma and Lucy and Viveca and the Crazy 88’s combined. Many will wonder about the cute guy down the hall who used to have this female friend who he loved but didn’t LOVE and why he suddenly stopped being seen in the lobby, or why his newspapers have piled up so high and what IS that smell coming from his apartment?
The heroine would talk like Samuel L. Jackson in “Pulp Fiction,” spewing forth quotes from fairy tales as she beheads her victims. Fuck black leather and skin tight outfits. She’d be in jeans with vintage men’s shirts and a kick-ass cool long leather coat like something out of a John Woo film (cuz all his capes do that cool flip up in the wind thing). And, of course, wear red Santana boots. Her hair would be red and hell hath no fury like this woman scorned.
Of course, her alter ego would be a mild-mannered director/writer who seems to be a bit fragile, a bit unsure of herself, a bit hesitant about showing her real self to anyone. Those she shows her secret identity to will stand in front of bullets for her. However, god help the men who break her heart. Death, mayhem, Crazy 88’s.
Of course, she’d need a really cool name. Heartbreaker? I’m sure some guy would say Lovelorn. How about Wraith of Love/ Suggestions are welcome.
Maybe it’s the full moon. Yes, it’s full again. Seems to bring out the feisty in me. The OOMA must be no more and I must push past that and find a new one… or come to terms with not having anyone. He will always be special, he will always be adored… and I may spare him the blood bath, as our heroine must always have a weakness for one person that she simply cannot destroy – whether villain or friend. So, OOMA, consider yourself lucky to be spared the Wraith of Love… But be warned, others out there. Don’t break my heart, don’t piss me off, or she may come after you…
Wednesday, April 12, 2006
I'm not obsessive...
So around 9 PM tonight, I thought I’d fire up the camera and take a look at the footage from this weekend, maybe start plopping some of it down in Final Cut Pro, just to get the process started.
It’s now 1:20 AM and I’m making myself stop and go to bed as I have to meet my actresses at 9 AM tomorrow to scout a location. I got a whole minute and 30 seconds of a scene cut together in that time. It’s rough but it looks like a scene! It’s the scene with Jessie (Vanessa Mizzone) running into her ex-husband, Nick, (AJ Bowen), and it’s really lovely! I can’t wait to finish it but I must sleep. Yeah, like that’s gonna happen.
My sister sent me some nice photos from the set when she stopped by. She’s home now and I’m sorry I didn’t have time to visit with her when she was here.
From left to right: My real sister, Cindy, her "Cinderella" counterpart, Suzannah Fagan, myself, and my "Cinderella" counterpart, Vanessa Mizzone.
I could just about sit up all night and work on this but I have to remind myself that sleep is necessary! Glad my Michaels class cancelled because I just couldn’t do it.
I thought tonight would be spent sitting on the couch because the weekend wore me out. The days were not long but it’s hard being the one person with all the answers. It’s just tiring. I’m not complaining, trust me, I’m just not used to it. Usually, my ex would intrude with options and opinions – wanted and unwanted – so some of the decisions were taken out of my hands. It was a little odd being the only one everyone turned to. My crew, however, was great and didn’t need a whole lot of explanation about things. What a pleasure working with people who know what they’re doing.
But am tired and rambling and will try to sleep now. Looking forward to working on the cut more tomorrow. Maybe I can finish the rough of the scene by tomorrow night. Not too much pressure.
It’s now 1:20 AM and I’m making myself stop and go to bed as I have to meet my actresses at 9 AM tomorrow to scout a location. I got a whole minute and 30 seconds of a scene cut together in that time. It’s rough but it looks like a scene! It’s the scene with Jessie (Vanessa Mizzone) running into her ex-husband, Nick, (AJ Bowen), and it’s really lovely! I can’t wait to finish it but I must sleep. Yeah, like that’s gonna happen.
My sister sent me some nice photos from the set when she stopped by. She’s home now and I’m sorry I didn’t have time to visit with her when she was here.
From left to right: My real sister, Cindy, her "Cinderella" counterpart, Suzannah Fagan, myself, and my "Cinderella" counterpart, Vanessa Mizzone.
I could just about sit up all night and work on this but I have to remind myself that sleep is necessary! Glad my Michaels class cancelled because I just couldn’t do it.
I thought tonight would be spent sitting on the couch because the weekend wore me out. The days were not long but it’s hard being the one person with all the answers. It’s just tiring. I’m not complaining, trust me, I’m just not used to it. Usually, my ex would intrude with options and opinions – wanted and unwanted – so some of the decisions were taken out of my hands. It was a little odd being the only one everyone turned to. My crew, however, was great and didn’t need a whole lot of explanation about things. What a pleasure working with people who know what they’re doing.
But am tired and rambling and will try to sleep now. Looking forward to working on the cut more tomorrow. Maybe I can finish the rough of the scene by tomorrow night. Not too much pressure.
Monday, April 10, 2006
The blog I can post.
It’s been a roller coaster weekend.
The shoot was amazing. You can read about that on the Life On Its Side blog. Great time, great friends, great talent. The footage is going to be really good. I can’t wait to start editing, probably in the next day or two. Couldn’t have been a better way to spend my birthday. The party Saturday night was great. I loved the cake(s) – especially the kiddy cake with the pick-up truck from my favorite collaborator.
I was so exhausted today that getting up was a challenge. I’m still pretty wiped out, although I’m gonna go have dinner with Zadra and chat about life. Here’s the aftermath of shooting in my apartment –
Not pretty. There’s a floor in there somewhere! Gotta clean it up but I think tomorrow is the day for cleaning and laundry. All outta Supergirl underwear.
It was amazing to have my sister on the set while we shot the film basically about our lives. There were moments that were almost too intense for me. The last moment of the argument that we shot on Sunday brought tears to my eyes. It’s a fight I’ve had with my sister, words we’ve said and not said. I almost had to walk off for a second, the immediacy of the moment and intimacy of the script was so immediate. It’s such a credit to my actors that they brought that moment to its beautiful climax.
I am sorry we have to stop for almost two weeks. We’ll have one day this week maybe and then not another until the 22nd. Too long! Oh, well, it’ll give me time to find some more money. There’s things I have to sell. It’s not gonna be enough but it’ll be something. I have to trust that the universe will provide as it has so far.
On the other end, I may have hurt someone I love very much in the process of trying to do the right thing and trying to protect myself. I hope we’ll come back to a good place. I’m not sure. There’s a blog there but not one that anyone will ever see. Some things are too personal and too private to put up here. Hard to believe, I know, but there it is.
The shoot was amazing. You can read about that on the Life On Its Side blog. Great time, great friends, great talent. The footage is going to be really good. I can’t wait to start editing, probably in the next day or two. Couldn’t have been a better way to spend my birthday. The party Saturday night was great. I loved the cake(s) – especially the kiddy cake with the pick-up truck from my favorite collaborator.
I was so exhausted today that getting up was a challenge. I’m still pretty wiped out, although I’m gonna go have dinner with Zadra and chat about life. Here’s the aftermath of shooting in my apartment –
Not pretty. There’s a floor in there somewhere! Gotta clean it up but I think tomorrow is the day for cleaning and laundry. All outta Supergirl underwear.
It was amazing to have my sister on the set while we shot the film basically about our lives. There were moments that were almost too intense for me. The last moment of the argument that we shot on Sunday brought tears to my eyes. It’s a fight I’ve had with my sister, words we’ve said and not said. I almost had to walk off for a second, the immediacy of the moment and intimacy of the script was so immediate. It’s such a credit to my actors that they brought that moment to its beautiful climax.
I am sorry we have to stop for almost two weeks. We’ll have one day this week maybe and then not another until the 22nd. Too long! Oh, well, it’ll give me time to find some more money. There’s things I have to sell. It’s not gonna be enough but it’ll be something. I have to trust that the universe will provide as it has so far.
On the other end, I may have hurt someone I love very much in the process of trying to do the right thing and trying to protect myself. I hope we’ll come back to a good place. I’m not sure. There’s a blog there but not one that anyone will ever see. Some things are too personal and too private to put up here. Hard to believe, I know, but there it is.
"Cinderella Drives A Pick-Up" Day 1 and Day 2
Status report:
Two days.
18 pages (17 pages, 6 day one, 11 day two)
14 hours of shooting.
Three hours of footage.
Four cast members.
Six crew members.
Two work lights.
One china ball.
1 case of water.
One mother.
One sister.
It has been an amazing, exhausting, inspiring, overwhelming, incredible weekend.
DAY ONE:
We began an hour late on Saturday. I had hoped to start by 2:30 but, due to numerous circumstances, I don’t think we got the first shot off until after 3:30. A bit worrisome but, somehow, miraculously, we wrapped by 6:15 and I think we got everything I wanted.
Reduced an eight page scene into five pages, changed locations three times, I think, until I decided to just use the Ark Theatre, since we had access to it. Tidied a lot of extraneous things up with the script on the fly.
Great cast. Vanessa Mizzone as Jessie Andrews has really channeled my voice and my thoughts. It’s amazing watching her work. She’s effortless, natural, comfortable. A.J. Bowen as Nick Whitaker, one of my favorite actors and one of my favorite people, is so easy on the eyes and easy on the director. Michelle Welton as Allison found a very nice level to what could have been a cardboard character. It was such a pleasure to start the shoot working with these talented people. They make my job so easy, having done do much work on their own, bringing their thoughts and ideas and working so comfortably with me.
Great crew. Kate Murphy, my DP, I met just a week ago through a friend at a birthday party. Somehow, within hours, she managed to begin to read my mind and anticipate what I wanted. Her input over both days was invaluable. Her respect for me while offering up suggestions was just what I wanted with a DP. Meagan Lindahl, script supervisor, is a luxury I have never been able to have on one of my one projects. Her eye and her gentle voice really helped keep things on track and make sure we got everything we needed. Tracey Gorin, what would I do without her? Not sure I can do a project without her somehow involved. My favorite collaborator, Chairman Barnes, a producer who understands that working on a no-budget feature means that he will end up playing PA – in this case, holding the reflector or the “dolly” (also known as a moving cart), or dropping a bolt on the ground over and over again.
Kinda weird having Mom and my sister, Cindy there. Mom gets bored easily. I get my short attention span from her. Cindy, however, was fascinated by the process and also I think by hearing our story out loud from girls that are not us. But it was also great having them both there, sharing in this very special weekend.
Birthday party afterwards that I stayed at way too late but I just couldn’t seem to leave. Two great cakes, as it was my birthday and my friend, Patty’s, birthday. The grown-up cake with chocolate mousse from Michelle and the cute kiddy cake from Chairman with a pick-up truck.
DAY TWO:
We got started pretty much on time today. Had a lot of pages to do – 11 1/3 altogether. Lots and lots of dialog. God, I have to learn how to write shorter scenes. Vanessa Mizzone and Suzannah Fagan really have such terrific chemistry. It’s so easy to buy them as sisters. Cindy was particularly pleased with her counterpart. And I think Suzannah enjoyed meeting Cindy to get an idea of who she is playing.
Kate continued to be great, very collaborative and very respectful. Peter Ross Stephens was our token boy-toy on set… or slate bitch as he was fondly referred to. He didn’t seem to mind being trapped on a set all day with six creative, talented women.
It was startling to look around and realize that the entire crew practically was female. It was completely unintentional. I had originally brought on a male DP who never returned my phone calls and apparently never checks his email. I’m glad I found Kate. She was a perfect fit. She cannot do the whole shoot but the person she is being replaced by is another very cool woman, who stopped by the set today to check in. The energy on the set was just so generous and so warm. It was nice to have so many women around.
Spent the day making vats of fudge for the scene. We celebrated the end of the day by toasting with the best of the fudge.
This was an incredibly fulfilling weekend. I cannot believe that we hav even started on this venture. I never really thought I would see this piece on film (video) really. I just didn’t think it would happen. But way back in November, sitting in an IHOP in Vegas, Chairman assured me that he had faith that this project would get off the ground. So many friends have told me that they really thought this project was going to be THE PROJECT for me.
And now, the day after my 44th birthday, I sit in my living room, dubbing the dailies from yesterday and today, hearing my own words cascade out of the speakers, watching my own dailies. It’s astounding. Some day, maybe I’ll be jaded and not be so emotionally charged over these things. But this film is special and I can never thank all the people involved for their time, their love and their passion for this project. The biggest blessing is that I get to work with my dearest, best friends and my favorite people on the face of the earth. My mother said to me last night at dinner, “Wow, they all really like you.” I laughed. Of course they do. Because I like them, well, maybe love them. So blessed am I.
Two days.
18 pages (17 pages, 6 day one, 11 day two)
14 hours of shooting.
Three hours of footage.
Four cast members.
Six crew members.
Two work lights.
One china ball.
1 case of water.
One mother.
One sister.
It has been an amazing, exhausting, inspiring, overwhelming, incredible weekend.
DAY ONE:
We began an hour late on Saturday. I had hoped to start by 2:30 but, due to numerous circumstances, I don’t think we got the first shot off until after 3:30. A bit worrisome but, somehow, miraculously, we wrapped by 6:15 and I think we got everything I wanted.
Reduced an eight page scene into five pages, changed locations three times, I think, until I decided to just use the Ark Theatre, since we had access to it. Tidied a lot of extraneous things up with the script on the fly.
Great cast. Vanessa Mizzone as Jessie Andrews has really channeled my voice and my thoughts. It’s amazing watching her work. She’s effortless, natural, comfortable. A.J. Bowen as Nick Whitaker, one of my favorite actors and one of my favorite people, is so easy on the eyes and easy on the director. Michelle Welton as Allison found a very nice level to what could have been a cardboard character. It was such a pleasure to start the shoot working with these talented people. They make my job so easy, having done do much work on their own, bringing their thoughts and ideas and working so comfortably with me.
Great crew. Kate Murphy, my DP, I met just a week ago through a friend at a birthday party. Somehow, within hours, she managed to begin to read my mind and anticipate what I wanted. Her input over both days was invaluable. Her respect for me while offering up suggestions was just what I wanted with a DP. Meagan Lindahl, script supervisor, is a luxury I have never been able to have on one of my one projects. Her eye and her gentle voice really helped keep things on track and make sure we got everything we needed. Tracey Gorin, what would I do without her? Not sure I can do a project without her somehow involved. My favorite collaborator, Chairman Barnes, a producer who understands that working on a no-budget feature means that he will end up playing PA – in this case, holding the reflector or the “dolly” (also known as a moving cart), or dropping a bolt on the ground over and over again.
Kinda weird having Mom and my sister, Cindy there. Mom gets bored easily. I get my short attention span from her. Cindy, however, was fascinated by the process and also I think by hearing our story out loud from girls that are not us. But it was also great having them both there, sharing in this very special weekend.
Birthday party afterwards that I stayed at way too late but I just couldn’t seem to leave. Two great cakes, as it was my birthday and my friend, Patty’s, birthday. The grown-up cake with chocolate mousse from Michelle and the cute kiddy cake from Chairman with a pick-up truck.
DAY TWO:
We got started pretty much on time today. Had a lot of pages to do – 11 1/3 altogether. Lots and lots of dialog. God, I have to learn how to write shorter scenes. Vanessa Mizzone and Suzannah Fagan really have such terrific chemistry. It’s so easy to buy them as sisters. Cindy was particularly pleased with her counterpart. And I think Suzannah enjoyed meeting Cindy to get an idea of who she is playing.
Kate continued to be great, very collaborative and very respectful. Peter Ross Stephens was our token boy-toy on set… or slate bitch as he was fondly referred to. He didn’t seem to mind being trapped on a set all day with six creative, talented women.
It was startling to look around and realize that the entire crew practically was female. It was completely unintentional. I had originally brought on a male DP who never returned my phone calls and apparently never checks his email. I’m glad I found Kate. She was a perfect fit. She cannot do the whole shoot but the person she is being replaced by is another very cool woman, who stopped by the set today to check in. The energy on the set was just so generous and so warm. It was nice to have so many women around.
Spent the day making vats of fudge for the scene. We celebrated the end of the day by toasting with the best of the fudge.
This was an incredibly fulfilling weekend. I cannot believe that we hav even started on this venture. I never really thought I would see this piece on film (video) really. I just didn’t think it would happen. But way back in November, sitting in an IHOP in Vegas, Chairman assured me that he had faith that this project would get off the ground. So many friends have told me that they really thought this project was going to be THE PROJECT for me.
And now, the day after my 44th birthday, I sit in my living room, dubbing the dailies from yesterday and today, hearing my own words cascade out of the speakers, watching my own dailies. It’s astounding. Some day, maybe I’ll be jaded and not be so emotionally charged over these things. But this film is special and I can never thank all the people involved for their time, their love and their passion for this project. The biggest blessing is that I get to work with my dearest, best friends and my favorite people on the face of the earth. My mother said to me last night at dinner, “Wow, they all really like you.” I laughed. Of course they do. Because I like them, well, maybe love them. So blessed am I.
Saturday, April 08, 2006
I get to make a movie today...
I’m breathless with anticipation. It’s been such a hectic week, trying to get everything done and make sure there’s a crew and a location and rehearsing and everything that I had lost sight of what we were doing. Last night, it really hit me. I get to make a movie today. My movie. My pet project. You’ll pardon me if you find me teary-eyed behind the camera today because I guess I didn’t really think that this would happen.
There are still a ton of obstacles – mostly financial. Don’t know if we’re going to raise enough money to actually finish the shoot. That’s the biggest obstacle. But I’m trying to not think that far ahead. The universe has provided so far, it’ll provide the rest.
I am overwhelmed with the talent and support around me on this project. My co-producers, Paul Wagar and my fav collaborator, Chairman. Their unwavering belief in me just continues to amaze me. I couldn’t tackle this project without that belief. My incredible cast – Vanessa, Suzanne, A.J., Dean, Lindsay, Joshua, Donna, Ana, Michelle, and Chairman. Your input and thoughts and, Vanessa, impossibly challenging questions, all made this script so much better than it ever was and I cannot wait to work with all of you. You make my job so much easier.
My crew, who are all contributing their time because they believe in me and they believe in this project. Their enthusiasm has kept me going and their presence on the set is going to make such an incredible contribution.
The bands that contributed their music will forever be my favorite musicians. I am required to promote the CD because it’s what I do. But I have to tell you, the music that these talented artists gave me make it easy to be passionate about it. Their music is all in my Ipod Nano and on my favorite playlists. They are gifted, beautiful, feisty women all and I love them for their talent.
Friends and family, to those who have contributed, you are the backbone of this project. Every $20 contributions, every CD you buy, every call, every email, every little bit of support for this project keeps it on its feet. For those of you who haven’t contributed, what can I say? I know money is tight. I hope your thoughts and wishes are with us, even if your checkbook isn’t. Don’t forget, we shoot through the beginning of May, so if you can’t send $20 now, maybe in two weeks, you can find a few bucks. Or buy a CD for a friend. Without all of those little contributions, there would be no “Cinderella.”
And my parents. There are no words.
And my sister, Cindy, who flew all the way down here from Minneapolis to share this weekend with me. That’s the most precious thing of all.
Now, I must wipe away the happy tears, finish packing up my production bag and run the 1,000 errands that must be run before we shoot. Check out the official website later for a production diary I hope to post tonight. Don’t forget http://www.cinderelladrivesapickup.com.
There are still a ton of obstacles – mostly financial. Don’t know if we’re going to raise enough money to actually finish the shoot. That’s the biggest obstacle. But I’m trying to not think that far ahead. The universe has provided so far, it’ll provide the rest.
I am overwhelmed with the talent and support around me on this project. My co-producers, Paul Wagar and my fav collaborator, Chairman. Their unwavering belief in me just continues to amaze me. I couldn’t tackle this project without that belief. My incredible cast – Vanessa, Suzanne, A.J., Dean, Lindsay, Joshua, Donna, Ana, Michelle, and Chairman. Your input and thoughts and, Vanessa, impossibly challenging questions, all made this script so much better than it ever was and I cannot wait to work with all of you. You make my job so much easier.
My crew, who are all contributing their time because they believe in me and they believe in this project. Their enthusiasm has kept me going and their presence on the set is going to make such an incredible contribution.
The bands that contributed their music will forever be my favorite musicians. I am required to promote the CD because it’s what I do. But I have to tell you, the music that these talented artists gave me make it easy to be passionate about it. Their music is all in my Ipod Nano and on my favorite playlists. They are gifted, beautiful, feisty women all and I love them for their talent.
Friends and family, to those who have contributed, you are the backbone of this project. Every $20 contributions, every CD you buy, every call, every email, every little bit of support for this project keeps it on its feet. For those of you who haven’t contributed, what can I say? I know money is tight. I hope your thoughts and wishes are with us, even if your checkbook isn’t. Don’t forget, we shoot through the beginning of May, so if you can’t send $20 now, maybe in two weeks, you can find a few bucks. Or buy a CD for a friend. Without all of those little contributions, there would be no “Cinderella.”
And my parents. There are no words.
And my sister, Cindy, who flew all the way down here from Minneapolis to share this weekend with me. That’s the most precious thing of all.
Now, I must wipe away the happy tears, finish packing up my production bag and run the 1,000 errands that must be run before we shoot. Check out the official website later for a production diary I hope to post tonight. Don’t forget http://www.cinderelladrivesapickup.com.
I'm 44...
I have literally just turned 44. Just now. Okay, 49 minutes ago. Wow. 44. I feel like I did at 24. I live like I did at 24. I’m by myself again, like I was at 24. Maybe some day I’ll grow up.
This past year has brought so many changes, as have been listed and examined and itemized here. It’s been awful. It’s been wonderful. It’s been terrifying. It’s been inspiring.
Last year, I kept hearing songs about “My Next 30 Years” and “100 Years”, making me contemplate what I wanted in the next 30 years and the next 100 years. Tomorrow, I start my film. That’s what I want for the next 200 years – films, plays, TV, anything I can direct. I know what I’m directing for the next year, which always makes me happy.
It’s a year that began with the beginnings of endings. I knew I was approaching the end of my marriage as I began to embrace the real beginning of myself as an artist. I was approaching some beginnings that were significant and impacted so many things in my life. Some of those beginnings began and then ended not long thereafter. Some of those beginnings feel like they’re the start of something lifelong and lovely. Some of them are still in question. This year saw dramatic endings, maybe with one or two more yet to come before this year officially comes to an end.
Mostly, this has been a year of joy. Unadultered joy. Embracing the joy in my life. There are many people I have to thank for that – my boys (you know who they are), my best friend, my roomie (and even my furry roomies), Erin, the Koji’s crowd, Del, Paula, Erik, all of you listed on my Myspace as a friend, including the amazing musicians and bands that those who are important to me have introduced me to. I would not have the amazing soundtrack to Cinderella (BLATANT PROMOTION ALERT – http://www.cinderelladrivesapickup.com – buy a CD for $12, make my birthday a happy one!) if it weren’t for those who brought me back to music – Zadra, Chairman, Peter mainly. That is definitely one of the greatest gifts of this year, the gift of music back in my life.
And literally finding my voice. I used to almost throw up when the Koji’s crowd finally forced me to get up and sing. I shook, I sweat, I hyperventilated. Now, I can’t wait to get up and sing. My favorite of late was “I’m Just a Girl” last week. I loved it! I’ll have to do that one again. For me, singing and enjoying singing is the most evident manifestation of finding my voice. “Cinderella” is the most visual way. I feel like I’m really letting that inner voice out in ways I haven’t been able to in years.
This last year has been deeply introspective, with seeing this therapist that my ex and I began with. I’m taking a break right now as I don’t have time to look inside while I focus my gaze on the outside. And I want to take some time to apply what I’ve learned. And I’ve learned so much, so much that even today, dealing with a few things in my personal life, I’m really looking at the things I do in my life and the choices I make and trying to make sure they make sense for me and not because I think it’s what I should do. Sorry, starting to ramble. Not enough sleep, that hasn’t changed in the last year.
This last year has had its hues of black and deep blue as well. I’ve been given great advice lately about solutions to watering down those colors and it’s something that maybe I’ll look into this year. Although I feel like I have a better handle on the black and blues now and can actually see them coming sometimes. But there have been a few very dark ones, even recently, and it’s something that I guess I will have to face this year as my life grows (hopefully) more successful and more hectic.
This last year has been heartbreaking in so many ways. Losses of friends, loss of my marriage, dealing with knowing that this time I have with my father now is precious and may add to the losses adds to the bittersweetness of this year. I want him to be proud, I want him to see my potential and know that I’m on my way before he has to watch me from that great golf course where he and God will shoot under par every day.
This year has made me want more – more out of my life, more out of myself, more out of the world. It’s made me focused and made me harder. It’s made me more open and yet more cautious. It’s made me so incredibly happy and so devastatingly sad. It’s made me appreciate every single moment that I’ve had – good, bad and otherwise – and made me realize that I am surrounded by such love, in so many forms, by such amazing energy and enthusiasm, by such passion and such gifts that I can’t wait to see where I am next year at 45.
This past year has brought so many changes, as have been listed and examined and itemized here. It’s been awful. It’s been wonderful. It’s been terrifying. It’s been inspiring.
Last year, I kept hearing songs about “My Next 30 Years” and “100 Years”, making me contemplate what I wanted in the next 30 years and the next 100 years. Tomorrow, I start my film. That’s what I want for the next 200 years – films, plays, TV, anything I can direct. I know what I’m directing for the next year, which always makes me happy.
It’s a year that began with the beginnings of endings. I knew I was approaching the end of my marriage as I began to embrace the real beginning of myself as an artist. I was approaching some beginnings that were significant and impacted so many things in my life. Some of those beginnings began and then ended not long thereafter. Some of those beginnings feel like they’re the start of something lifelong and lovely. Some of them are still in question. This year saw dramatic endings, maybe with one or two more yet to come before this year officially comes to an end.
Mostly, this has been a year of joy. Unadultered joy. Embracing the joy in my life. There are many people I have to thank for that – my boys (you know who they are), my best friend, my roomie (and even my furry roomies), Erin, the Koji’s crowd, Del, Paula, Erik, all of you listed on my Myspace as a friend, including the amazing musicians and bands that those who are important to me have introduced me to. I would not have the amazing soundtrack to Cinderella (BLATANT PROMOTION ALERT – http://www.cinderelladrivesapickup.com – buy a CD for $12, make my birthday a happy one!) if it weren’t for those who brought me back to music – Zadra, Chairman, Peter mainly. That is definitely one of the greatest gifts of this year, the gift of music back in my life.
And literally finding my voice. I used to almost throw up when the Koji’s crowd finally forced me to get up and sing. I shook, I sweat, I hyperventilated. Now, I can’t wait to get up and sing. My favorite of late was “I’m Just a Girl” last week. I loved it! I’ll have to do that one again. For me, singing and enjoying singing is the most evident manifestation of finding my voice. “Cinderella” is the most visual way. I feel like I’m really letting that inner voice out in ways I haven’t been able to in years.
This last year has been deeply introspective, with seeing this therapist that my ex and I began with. I’m taking a break right now as I don’t have time to look inside while I focus my gaze on the outside. And I want to take some time to apply what I’ve learned. And I’ve learned so much, so much that even today, dealing with a few things in my personal life, I’m really looking at the things I do in my life and the choices I make and trying to make sure they make sense for me and not because I think it’s what I should do. Sorry, starting to ramble. Not enough sleep, that hasn’t changed in the last year.
This last year has had its hues of black and deep blue as well. I’ve been given great advice lately about solutions to watering down those colors and it’s something that maybe I’ll look into this year. Although I feel like I have a better handle on the black and blues now and can actually see them coming sometimes. But there have been a few very dark ones, even recently, and it’s something that I guess I will have to face this year as my life grows (hopefully) more successful and more hectic.
This last year has been heartbreaking in so many ways. Losses of friends, loss of my marriage, dealing with knowing that this time I have with my father now is precious and may add to the losses adds to the bittersweetness of this year. I want him to be proud, I want him to see my potential and know that I’m on my way before he has to watch me from that great golf course where he and God will shoot under par every day.
This year has made me want more – more out of my life, more out of myself, more out of the world. It’s made me focused and made me harder. It’s made me more open and yet more cautious. It’s made me so incredibly happy and so devastatingly sad. It’s made me appreciate every single moment that I’ve had – good, bad and otherwise – and made me realize that I am surrounded by such love, in so many forms, by such amazing energy and enthusiasm, by such passion and such gifts that I can’t wait to see where I am next year at 45.
Friday, April 07, 2006
A season
I thought you were more than a season
but I guess that was all
you were meant to be.
Now I have to go about
letting that go
moving past the misdirection
and leave that piece of me behind,
letting go of you and all that goes with you.
Find another source for the joy, the laughter
and the song.
Part of you is a lifetime
in my lifetime
and I know another season will come
but it won’t be like this one.
I am grateful for the season with you
because it made me feel again,
made me grow,
made me see myself
through your eyes
as I wanted to be seen.
I’m not sure how to do this
and I don’t want to damage the roots
that are there.
But I’ll be back in a while
to see what you’ve grown
while I’ve been gone.
And then we can go back
to where the roots began with us
and start again
from where we left off.
but I guess that was all
you were meant to be.
Now I have to go about
letting that go
moving past the misdirection
and leave that piece of me behind,
letting go of you and all that goes with you.
Find another source for the joy, the laughter
and the song.
Part of you is a lifetime
in my lifetime
and I know another season will come
but it won’t be like this one.
I am grateful for the season with you
because it made me feel again,
made me grow,
made me see myself
through your eyes
as I wanted to be seen.
I’m not sure how to do this
and I don’t want to damage the roots
that are there.
But I’ll be back in a while
to see what you’ve grown
while I’ve been gone.
And then we can go back
to where the roots began with us
and start again
from where we left off.
Tuesday, April 04, 2006
Soooo much better today.
Even with the rain. The Dark Ones have retreated and I actually slept well last night, which I didn’t expect. Seems that reaching out and talking to someone really does help. Duh! Some day, I’ll learn this is truth.
I always hesitate about putting up blogs that deal with my depression and the darkness that consumes me sometimes. There is a point of too much information sometimes. And I worry that I cross that line. But I know how I appreciate when I read someone else’s blog and they’re sharing something deep and personal and it’s something I can relate to and it makes me go, wow, I’m not alone. She/he feels that way, too. I’m not crazy. As well, when I started this blog, I swore I would be completely open and not try to make things pretty and funny, unless they are. I approached it as an honest view of my mid-life crisis and I think to hold anything back isn’t honoring that intention.
So thanks for reading and supporting and encouraging. It’s always amazing to see the comments following one of these dark blogs and it makes me very grateful for Myspace and blogspot. It’s so easy to feel alone in this world, whether it’s here in LaLa Land or back home in Winnipeg. It’s great to have a community at my fingertips that can guide me through the funny and the weird and the hard and the amazing.
I always hesitate about putting up blogs that deal with my depression and the darkness that consumes me sometimes. There is a point of too much information sometimes. And I worry that I cross that line. But I know how I appreciate when I read someone else’s blog and they’re sharing something deep and personal and it’s something I can relate to and it makes me go, wow, I’m not alone. She/he feels that way, too. I’m not crazy. As well, when I started this blog, I swore I would be completely open and not try to make things pretty and funny, unless they are. I approached it as an honest view of my mid-life crisis and I think to hold anything back isn’t honoring that intention.
So thanks for reading and supporting and encouraging. It’s always amazing to see the comments following one of these dark blogs and it makes me very grateful for Myspace and blogspot. It’s so easy to feel alone in this world, whether it’s here in LaLa Land or back home in Winnipeg. It’s great to have a community at my fingertips that can guide me through the funny and the weird and the hard and the amazing.
Funny thing about depression...
It is sneaky. It is insidious. It insists on fucking up and distorting everything in your life. The slightest look, the smallest word becomes insurmountable. It releases the clowns and the demons at will.
Actually, I prefer the clowns and the demons to the deeper, darker unnamable ones who surface only occasionally, only when the depression has found its foothold and it has you crippled. Thats when the Dark Ones comes out and glide through your soul, leaving a wake of blackness that is impenetrable. They allow no light, they allow no sound, only the whisper of their breath as they move through your essence, leaving it scarred and pitted.
The Dark Ones have been lurking for a while, because, of course, I have the most important weekend of my life four days away. At least the clowns announce themselves with circus music and ringmasters. Even the demons tend to be more clumsy and alert you to their arrival. The Dark Ones are stealthy and you dont know theyre there until its almost too late to do anything about them.
The Dark Ones attacked with a vengeance tonight. I guess theyre pissed off that I have managed to avoid them for a while now. I was expecting the demons because they always come with stress and when Im feeling overwhelmed and alone. But I thought I was handling that. I was kind of embracing the fact that there is so much to do on the film and its all falling to me, which is really what I wanted anyway. I want to be able to step back when its done and go, wow, I did that. I had help but it was really all about me. Maybe kind of selfish but, for me right now, its really a freedom. So I kept the demon-watch up and fought them gamely as they began leaping out of the shadows in the past few days. Having a quiet sanctuary to work at helped to keep them aside for a while but, then, even the quiet I so craved became filled with their hisses and taunts. They finally drove me out tonight and then set upon creating their own little dark scenarios about sanctuary and what is contained therein and trying to turn me against having that safe, quiet place to turn to.
I thought I just needed to eat. Im on the production diet right now five pounds lost in about a week. I just forget to eat. That has a bearing on the demons sometimes as they thrive in that slightly light-headed environment.
On the way home, though, the Dark Ones found me. Hard to navigate the car when blind-sided by these beings. They are very attracted to the center divider and the other cars around you. Then they planted twisted, destructive scenarios in my head that I cannot even put in writing, they were so deeply black. Suffice to say they had inventive thoughts about how to remove my tattoos. Ive been down that road before and it frightened me that I could even begin to approach that abyss again, especially right now, when there are so many things in my life that should make me rejoice and celebrate.
But thats the funny thing about depression. It likes to hit you just when you should be enjoying things. It has no sense of timing. Or maybe it has a wicked sense of timing.
The one thing I have learned in therapy is that I need to reach out when I get into that pitch black darkness. I managed to do that tonight and was grateful to find Zadra on the other end of that reach. She lets me wail and weep and rale and then gently talks me off the ledge and back inside. She claims I have talked her off of the self-same ledge occasionally and we ended the conversation with the thought of putting graffiti on that ledge Zadra & Susan were here.
To remind us that we are not alone when out on that ledge. To remind us that there is humor to be found in the blackest moments. To remember Gods grace in putting the people in our lives that He does because theyre there for a reason (or a season or a lifetime).
She talked me out of a couple of really stupid things tonight that would have caused wounding and more confusion and perhaps ending a friendship that I so treasure. She kept me on the phone until the Dark Ones finally got sick of hearing us talk and I finally began to run out of tears. Slowly, gently, eventually, the thick black fog began to clear. Its not completely gone yet. It may hang around still, as it always is in the background for me these past few years. Its never far from the present and it is only with a great deal of effort that it is kept back. That, and the amazing people in my life who wont let me pull that curtain closed in front of me. Their joy, their passion, their devotion and utter belief that I am capable of something great keeps that curtain open. And I treasure that in these deep, dark moments. Because it would be so easy to just pull it closed and silence all the noise. But then Id miss the music and the laughter and the gentle whispers I love so much, that fill the rest of my life with such abounding pleasure and joy. So Ive put our mark on the ledge and hang on to the hope that I will see that the next time I step out and it will keep me from going all the way out there and teetering...
Actually, I prefer the clowns and the demons to the deeper, darker unnamable ones who surface only occasionally, only when the depression has found its foothold and it has you crippled. Thats when the Dark Ones comes out and glide through your soul, leaving a wake of blackness that is impenetrable. They allow no light, they allow no sound, only the whisper of their breath as they move through your essence, leaving it scarred and pitted.
The Dark Ones have been lurking for a while, because, of course, I have the most important weekend of my life four days away. At least the clowns announce themselves with circus music and ringmasters. Even the demons tend to be more clumsy and alert you to their arrival. The Dark Ones are stealthy and you dont know theyre there until its almost too late to do anything about them.
The Dark Ones attacked with a vengeance tonight. I guess theyre pissed off that I have managed to avoid them for a while now. I was expecting the demons because they always come with stress and when Im feeling overwhelmed and alone. But I thought I was handling that. I was kind of embracing the fact that there is so much to do on the film and its all falling to me, which is really what I wanted anyway. I want to be able to step back when its done and go, wow, I did that. I had help but it was really all about me. Maybe kind of selfish but, for me right now, its really a freedom. So I kept the demon-watch up and fought them gamely as they began leaping out of the shadows in the past few days. Having a quiet sanctuary to work at helped to keep them aside for a while but, then, even the quiet I so craved became filled with their hisses and taunts. They finally drove me out tonight and then set upon creating their own little dark scenarios about sanctuary and what is contained therein and trying to turn me against having that safe, quiet place to turn to.
I thought I just needed to eat. Im on the production diet right now five pounds lost in about a week. I just forget to eat. That has a bearing on the demons sometimes as they thrive in that slightly light-headed environment.
On the way home, though, the Dark Ones found me. Hard to navigate the car when blind-sided by these beings. They are very attracted to the center divider and the other cars around you. Then they planted twisted, destructive scenarios in my head that I cannot even put in writing, they were so deeply black. Suffice to say they had inventive thoughts about how to remove my tattoos. Ive been down that road before and it frightened me that I could even begin to approach that abyss again, especially right now, when there are so many things in my life that should make me rejoice and celebrate.
But thats the funny thing about depression. It likes to hit you just when you should be enjoying things. It has no sense of timing. Or maybe it has a wicked sense of timing.
The one thing I have learned in therapy is that I need to reach out when I get into that pitch black darkness. I managed to do that tonight and was grateful to find Zadra on the other end of that reach. She lets me wail and weep and rale and then gently talks me off the ledge and back inside. She claims I have talked her off of the self-same ledge occasionally and we ended the conversation with the thought of putting graffiti on that ledge Zadra & Susan were here.
To remind us that we are not alone when out on that ledge. To remind us that there is humor to be found in the blackest moments. To remember Gods grace in putting the people in our lives that He does because theyre there for a reason (or a season or a lifetime).
She talked me out of a couple of really stupid things tonight that would have caused wounding and more confusion and perhaps ending a friendship that I so treasure. She kept me on the phone until the Dark Ones finally got sick of hearing us talk and I finally began to run out of tears. Slowly, gently, eventually, the thick black fog began to clear. Its not completely gone yet. It may hang around still, as it always is in the background for me these past few years. Its never far from the present and it is only with a great deal of effort that it is kept back. That, and the amazing people in my life who wont let me pull that curtain closed in front of me. Their joy, their passion, their devotion and utter belief that I am capable of something great keeps that curtain open. And I treasure that in these deep, dark moments. Because it would be so easy to just pull it closed and silence all the noise. But then Id miss the music and the laughter and the gentle whispers I love so much, that fill the rest of my life with such abounding pleasure and joy. So Ive put our mark on the ledge and hang on to the hope that I will see that the next time I step out and it will keep me from going all the way out there and teetering...
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