It's beginning to get to me.

I want something
That's purer than the water
Like we were

It's not there now
Ineloquence and anger
Are all we have

Like Saturn's rings
An icy loop around me
Too hard to hold

Lash out first
At all the things we don't like
Or understand

And it's beginning to get to me
That I know more of the stars and sea
Than I do of what's in your head
Barely touching in our cold bed

Are you beginning to get get my point
That all this fighting with aching joints
It's doing nothing but tire us out
No one knows what this fight's about

The answer phone
The lonely sound of your voice
Frozen in time

I only need
The compass that you gave me
To guide me on

And it's beginning to get to me
That I know more of the stars and sea
Than I do of what's in your head
Barely touching in our cold bed

Are you beginning to get get my point
That all this fighting with aching joints
It's doing nothing but tire us out
No one knows what this fight's about

It's so thrilling but also wrong
Don't have to prove that you are so strong
'Cause I can carry you on my back
After our enemies attack

I tried to tell you before I left
But I was screaming under my breath
You are the only thing that makes sense
Just ignore all this present tense

We need to feel breathless with love
And not collapse under its weight
I'm gasping for the air to fill
My lungs with everything I've lost

We need to feel breathless with love
And not collapse under its weight
I'm gasping for the air to fill
My lungs with everything I've lost

- Snow Patrol

It could be colder. It could be absolute zero.

I went to work this morning, and the lovely ladies I work with had bought bagels for my birthday and got together in the little kitchenette and sang to me. It was very sweet, and then one of them said, "Dare we ask how old you are?" I'm twenty-two. And they tease me a little, because they're all older than I am. My friends all tease me because I'm older than most of them by at least a year, and I get most of the jokes because I'm the first in the group to turn twenty-two. One of my friends gave me a birthday card for a 40 year old, which I thought was hilarious. One of the women in my office laughed and said, "I *wish* I'd get a card for a forty year old." See, this is the sort of situation that I see as lose-lose. I can't say that I'm glad to be twenty-two and that I do feel more mature and ready to tackle the world (which I'm not sure I do) or anything positive because I don't want to emphasize the age difference between me and my coworkers. On the other hand, I can't say that turning twenty-two really has made me feel old and set me in a bit of panicked mindset about something things (i.e. marriage and career -- why do I feel so rushed?) because who can actually take that seriously? I suppose it doesn't help that last week I referred to one of my superiors as belonging to another generation.

The awkward things you can get away with as a student worker. No one's offended because they realize that you're still pretty much a fool.

Remember that character exercise I complained about the other week? Well, it helped, a little. The one thing I would recommend was that we made a chart/grid of all the major characters with their names along the top and then on the side. Then in the boxes where character names cross reference you fill in how the characters have conflicts with each other. This is especially helpful for thinking about conflict between characters who are on the same team. I feel like class is going a little slow, though. We're supposed to be writing our treatments this week, but I think I might start writing the actual screenplay.

We did have Sharat Raju, director of Divided We Fall, come and speak to us. He had some good things to say, as he is a graduate of our program, worked for a casting agency, graduated from AFI with an award winning short, has sold screenplays, and is "currently" (a la strike) an ABC Disney Directing Fellow. He had some interesting/enlightening things to say (as well as giving us another film contact). I've noticed, however, that usually when you get filmmakers to come speak, it's just like storytelling. Sometimes you get real information on the craft or sneaky ways into the business or helpful advice, but this industry is so fickle and unstable that you can pretty much get in any way as long as you've got talent and drive.

Not so difficult, huh?

There's an organization here on campus that helps students, both film majors and not, make short films (on video) during the semester which they screen in a really nice theatre. I submitted two screenplays for consideration last week and now I'm just waiting to hear back. This is not necessarily the best way to make a quality short because your resources and equipment are not necessarily top notch with this program. However, maybe that's good when you start directing your first shorts, especially because I think it can be difficult to learn directing and filmmaking at the same time. I had trouble doing both when we were working on our video project in my production class last semester. And I plan on, even though I've just sort of disparaged the program a little, working at it my hardest and best so that there will be something of quality coming from it. Truth be told, I need more of a reel, and there just aren't enough opportunities via classes. If I get either approved, I'm going to take advantage of the support to make both, I think.

Also, have I mentioned that the director of my office sounds like Kronk from the Emperor's New Groove? Today he said something like, "Oh, right" and it sounded *exactly* like the movie was playing. I wish he'd hang out with us.

Deathbed

I can smell the death on the sheets
Covering me
I can't believe this is the end

But this is my deathbed
I lie here alone
If I close my eyes tonight
I know I'll be home

The year was nineteen forty one
I was eight years old and
Far far too young
To know that the stories
Of battles and glory
Was a tale a kind mother
Made up for her son
You see
Dad was a traveling preacher
Teaching the words of the Teacher
But mother had sworn
Went off to the war
And died there with honor
Somewhere on a beach there
But he left once to never return
Which taught me that I should unlearn
Whatever I thought a father should be
I abandoned that thought
Like he abandoned me

By forty seven I was fourteen
I'd acquired a taste for liquor and nicotine
I smoked until I threw up
Yet I still lit 'em up for thirty more years
Like a machine

So right there you have it
That one filthy habit
Is what got me where I am today

I can smell the death on the sheets
Covering me
I can't believe this is the end
I can hear those sad memories
Still haunting me
So many things
I'd do again

But this is my deathbed
I lie here alone
If I close my eyes tonight
I know I'll be home

I got married on my twenty first
Eight months before my wife would give birth
It's easier to be sure you love someone
When her father inquires with the barrel of a gun
The union was far from harmonious
No two people could have been more alone than us
The years would go by and she'd love someone else
And I realized I hadn't been loved yet myself
And there's your typical spiel
Yeah if life was a highway
I was drunk at the wheel
I was seeing the loose ends
All fall apart
Yeah I swear I was destined to fail
And fail from the start
I bowled about six times a week
The bottle of Beam kept the memories from me
The marriage had taken a seven-ten split
Along with my pride the ex-wife took the kids

I can smell the death on the sheets
Covering me
I can't believe this is the end
I can hear those sad memories
Still haunting me
So many things
I'd do again

But this is my deathbed
I lie here alone
If I close my eyes tonight
I know I'll be home

I was so scared of Jesus
But He sought me out
Like the cancer in my lungs
That's killing me now
And I've given up hope
On the days I have left
But I cling to the hope
Of my life in the next
Then Jesus showed up
Said "Before we go"
"I thought that we might reminisce"
"See one night in your life"
"When you turned out the light"
"You asked for and prayed for my forgiveness"

You cried wolf
The tears they soaked your fur
The blood dripped from your fangs
You said, "What have I done?"
You loved that lamb
With every sinful bone
And there you wept alone
Your heart was so contrite
You said, "Jesus, please forgive me of my crimes
Sanctify this withered heart of mine
Stay with me until my life is through
And on that day please take me home with you"

I can smell the death on the sheets
Covering me
I can't believe this is the end
I can hear You whisper to me,
"It's time to leave
You'll never be lonely again"

But this was my deathbed
I died there alone
When I closed my eyes tonight
You carried me home


I am the Way
Follow Me
And take My hand
And I am the Truth
Embrace Me and you'll understand
And I am the Light
And for Me you'll live again
For I am Love
I am Love
I, I am Love

- Relient K

And other stories...

I'm changing the name of this blog, as soon as I figure out how. I figure after four years we could switch up a little more than just the layout and color scheme. It's funny how, when I started it, I liked to go on political/cultural rants. Remember how when you're little(r) you think you know a lot about that sort of stuff? Today my uni city was all in uproar for primary election day, people passing out papers, buses driving by with slogans painted on them, a sheet of paper in my office with a run down of all the candidates and their positions - on everything. And as I slipped through all the political festivities, in my head I was silently saying, "Na na, I'm not voting today!"

Yes, I know. I *am* part of the problem.

I had my first screenwriting class the other day. Yes, the big day finally arrived. Our teacher seems nice and intelligent and willing to be open about the craft. Our class is quite full with some pretentious people (yours truly included. At least I know what my faults are). And the first day went a little slowly, but every class does. We're working on our loglines this week, and V. gave us some great things to include in them, so I feel like this is one of my strongest loglines ever (umm, actually, when was the last time I seriously worked on a logline? I'm not one of those preplanning writers, ok?). However, I have four protagonists of equal weight, making for what *I* feel like is a very general logline. Or maybe that's the result of writing a drama. I'm not sure. We'll see how it flies. Next week we're going to have to turn in character charts. As long as they don't make me decide what my characters' favourite colors are. That has nothing to do with development at all.

The other day it was raining, and even though the bus was pulling away from the stop way before I got there, the driver pulled it over again when he got to me and let me jump on. Rare form for a uni bus driver. And he said to me, "This must be your lucky day! You should buy a lotto ticket." So I did. I thought it would have made the greatest story ever if God had answered my prayers for money for school a year later in the form of a lotto ticket. However, this did not happen. My friends and I agree that it's because I bought a scratch lotto ticket and not a real lotto ticket. I'll know better for my next lucky day.

Love is the greatest story of all

My dad sent this picture to me in a forward about best husbands of the year. I can't give credit for it because I don't know where it's from, not really, but there's a story there. And someone needs to write it.

I ain't no chemist, but at least I know water expands when it freezes.

Today I was out with a friend looking for party streamers at Walgreens. Walgreens failed us for streamers, but as we were walking towards the door, my eyes were blessed to fall on a new and exciting item.

EXTRA LONG TWIZZLERS.

On any normal night, this would be cause for celebration in itself. But tonight it was better. Tonight was movie night, and movie night is at its best when you can have Sprite with Twizzler straws. However, when I got home and it was movie time, something strange happened, something that's never happened before. When I put my Twizzler in my Sprite, it suddenly fizzled up and near exploded like a volcano. Granted, the damage was much worse than it could have been, but I was so befuddled. Never before had my Twizzler straws and Sprite created such a chemical reaction. Perhaps there is some strange new ingredient in the extra long Twizzlers.

While we're on the subject of edible things, I'd like to mention that change for the sake of change is not always good. I know mint toothpaste has been around for a while. However, that doesn't mean we need to be go making up all sorts of absurd flavors. I had a vanilla mint flavored toothpaste when I was at my parents' house. It tasted like cheap vanilla icing, without the satisfaction of a cake.

It'll be great in 2008!

As for reflective end/beginning of year post, all I have is this:

My uni had a bowl game this year. My uni also had a bowl game last year. My uni is number one when it comes to number of consecutive bowl years (ok, I'll stop bragging now). Last year I was sitting in a hotel room on January 1st with my father and a friend just a few miles south of my uni town, snickering over how USC's quarterback's name was Booty, waiting for the time when we would drive into town, for the first time as a student, and move me into my new home. This year at 1:00 pm I came down the stairs to hear my mom shouting, "Oh, it's 1:00! Amy! It's 1:00 - it's time for the game!" I've hear that my mom has become quite the fan, but it made me smile that she was getting just as riled as I was during the game. My dad finally made it in about halftime and after a few minutes said that he might have to watch the game in a different room than us.

In between these two football games that were almost one year apart to the hour, a lot of stuff happened. Enough material for many stories. I won't bore you right now; I'll make you pay $9 to suffer through it on the big screen in about five years.

In writing, when you open and close a story with a certain image, motif, theme, situation, whatever, they call it "bookending." 2007 was perfectly bookended by two football games. For a girl who attends the uni with the longest bowl game streak, that may not seem like a big deal. But when you look at my writing, you'll see that I tend to like bookending in my stories. A lot.

I'm sure that says something about my psyche. What? I simply haven't the time to figure it out.

By yon bonnie banks and by yon bonnie braes,
Where the sun shines on Loch Lomond.
Where me and tea tree my true love spent many days
On the banks of Loch Lomond.

Twas there we parted in yon shady glen,
On the steep sides of Ben Lomond.
Where the broken heart knows no second spring,
Resigned we must be while we’re parting.

You'll take the high road and I'll take the low road,
And I'll be in Scotland afore ye.
Where me and my true love will never meet again,
On the bonnie, bonnie banks of Loch Lomond.

Ho, ho mo leannan
Ho mo leannan bhoidheach

You’ll take the high road and I’ll take the low road,
And I’ll be in Scotland afore you.
Where me and my true love will never meet again,
On the bonnie, bonnie banks of Loch Lomond.

You'll take the high road and I'll take the low road,
And I'll be in Scotland afore ye.
Where me and my true love will never meet again,
On the bonnie, bonnie banks of Loch Lomond.

On bonnie, bonnie banks

- "Loch Lomond," Runrig