Mamet

I don't like Glengarry Glen Ross. Bleh. I think it's boring.

There, I said it, finally.

That is all.

This post is nothing but procrastination against working on my Current Draft.

So tonight I put on my dancing shoes skipped on over to a "silver citizens" karaoke night (don't ask how I got in; my secrets are my own). My screenwriting professor told me the other week that my combination of situation and setting was unique and interesting. The funny thing is, in that scene and in others that I would gamble he'd find similarly interesting, the combination wasn't anything I fixed. It's just how it really happened. Writers need to keep their eyes open. As I was sitting at dinner, I realized that I no longer keep pen and paper on me and what a disadvantage that puts me at.

The other day I did something not so smart. I was staying with my friend, and in the morning after I brushed my teeth and came back from the bathroom, I tried to jump onto the bed. However, my knee struck the footboard and I doubled over it. Suffice to say, that jump was not successful.

Quarterlife is going to be on TV tonight. It's the first internet-to-network show. I was hoping to watch me some Quarterlife, and still might view it via the web if I can't watch it tonight, but it would be interesting to compare the presentation of it on both the internet and the network.

Whenever I see the ads for 10,000 BC I think of Intolerance. Oh, silent era cinema.

"You keep using that word. I do not think it means what you think it means."

I watched Waitress tonight. My moral doubts about this movie aside (can you put such things aside when evaluating a story?), I thought it was great. It made something click for me about how I view relationships, illustrated some theories I was developing, helped me realize some things about my current love life. Then I listened to Coldplay's Swallowed in the Sea and danced around the bathroom while brushing my teeth.

I've left the forbidden tundra that is enemy territory and forged ahead to brighter skies. I'm staying with Aunt March (I wish I had enough knowledge of literature to name all my friends and family after literary characters), which should be enjoyable, despite the amount of work I realized that I should get done before Wednesday. As I was in the airport this afternoon, I thought how great it would be to get called over the loudspeaker just once, to be paged for your flight as one of those "Southwest Airlines is paging passenger John Frost, final boarding call." But I thought about how worried I would be about actually missing my flight, so worried that the only way I would let such a paging happen would be if I were actually in the waiting area by the gate, and how weird that would be if I was so paged and then stood up to board the plane. I thought, therefore, that such a thing would never happen. Well, lucky me, after passing through security, I went for breakfast at the ever-tempting Cinnabon and got distracted by the fact that there was actually free Wi-Fi. Before I knew it, I had twenty minutes before my flight left, ten before they closed the plane door, and my gate was the farthest away from Cinnabon. I packed up my stuff and discretely sprinted away, and just as I came within view of my gate, the attendant picked up the microphone to give the final boarding call, rattling off the names of the tardy customers who had yet to board.

My name wrapped up the list.

Swallowed in the Sea

You cut me down a tree
And brought it back to me
And that's what made me see
Where I was going wrong

You put me on a shelf
And kept me for yourself
I can only blame myself
You can only blame me

And I could write a song
A hundred miles long
Well, that's where I belong
And you belong with me

And I could write it down
Or spread it all around
Get lost and then get found
Or swallowed in the sea

You put me on a line
And hung me out to dry
And darling that's when I
Decided to go to sea

You cut me down to size
And opened up my eyes
Made me realize
What I could not see

And I could write a book
The one they'll say that shook
The world, and then it took
It took it back from me

And I could write it down
Or spread it all around
Get lost and then get found
And you'll come back to me
Not swallowed in the sea

Ooh...

And I could write a song
A hundred miles long
Well, that's where I belong
And you belong with me

The streets you're walking on
A thousand houses long
Well, that's where I belong
And you belong with me

Oh what good is it to live
With nothing left to give
Forget but not forgive
Not loving all you see

Oh the streets you're walking on
A thousand houses long
Well that's where I belong
And you belong with me
Not swallowed in the sea

You belong with me
Not swallowed in the sea
Yeah, you belong with me
Not swallowed in the sea

- Coldplay

He'll Spring Break Your Legs.

Reporting from enemy territory. I'm enjoying a cup of tea, throwing furtive looks around the Panera as my college bag branding me as someone who should be stoned is stuffed safely in the corner of my booth (it's an engineering bag anyway; I got it from work. And yes, I feel like such a poser, and I'm proud of it, in a stick it to the man sort of way). Part of me wants to flaunt my college football affiliation, but I feel like the fact that I saw someone wearing a hat for the opposition made me feel like starting a fight is a sign that I should keep all this on the DL.

I never cared about college rivalries before I transfered.

My nightmare bus ride finally ended last night, about twelve hours after I initially arrived at my departing station. I almost got stranded overnight at afore mentioned scary transfer city, and our driver actually drove past our destination city before getting on the PA system and asking if anyone knew how to get to the bus station because he had faulty directions. Oh geez.

I saw Definitely Maybe last night, which Billy Mernit talks about here. I liked Billy's post, that included questions with the writer/director, but as for the movie... It was enjoyable, and I'd recommend it if you're looking for a good rom com. I didn't laugh as loud or hard as I have in other movies I've seen recently, and I think that I found it unbelievable that the male protagonist could sustain such intense feelings for all three female leads in the given timeline. Maybe that's just me, though. I feel like every movie I see now a days makes me want to cry, no matter how cheesy it is. The trip to the movie theatre also included a picture with Patrick Dempsey advertising for his upcoming movie Made of Honor. Which is, incidentally, a movie that I will gauge my eyes out before seeing. Ok, that's probably not true, but I will protest loudly and fervently on principle if such occasion arises.

I don't get to watch the Oscars tonight. My friend and I thought about TiVoing it and throwing an Oscar party after break (ok, well, really that was all my scheme. He just wanted an excuse to throw a party). I even just bought a great sparkly dress that would have been perfect for the occasion. Oh well, I don't have a good track record with the Oscars. I think I used them as an excuse to get out of something last year, and then fell asleep before all the major awards were announced.

I don't like ordering anything "creme de menthe" because it sounds like "creme de meth" and I don't do drugs.

One of my friends once asked me what was the most effective way to approach a random girl and successfully come back with her number. After careful thought and personal, if reluctant, experiments, I have my answer:

There is none.

That situation never works out like it does in the movies.

Lost last night was amazing. I had to miss last week's because of Valentine's Day, and streaming wasn't working when I tried to watch it which made me probably a little more upset than warranted, but this week's episode was way worth it.

The madness is finally over and I'm able to breathe. School is not all it's cracked up to be. However, as charged up as I was to start my ten day, two state, three stop, five friend spring break tour, all that charged adrenaline that comes from having to hurry back from work, finish packing, grab lunch and stop at Border's to get a book (it's hard to find a cheap one these days), and then lug an immensely packed duffle bag across town came crashing down and then froze out when it was announced that our bus was two hours delayed. After sitting in an hour in the freezing, stuck in the 70s one room bus stop with a guitar-playing pseudo Canadian, one of those overly friendly woman who just comes across as a middle aged flirt, and the guy sitting next to me reading Neil Gaiman and blasting opera from his headphones, I realized that I had rested enough from my initial trek out and that I might be able to make it to a coffee shop for warmth and the appearance of middle class yuppy normalcy for a while. One of the chains that proliferates campus is just a couple of blocks from the station, and I've found it to be much chicer than the undergraduate versions as the floor is carpeted and I'm sitting at a cute little round table (they're mostly square on campus) drinking Ruby Fruit tea out of a real mug and listening to the soundtrack of Chicago delightfully playing in the background. Probably because it's on "Main Street."

I went it for extra advice on my screenplay because I had to present my inciting incident (doesn't that seem redundant to you, "inciting incident?" However, you can't just say, inciter or incident. It wouldn't make sense) and I wanted to make sure it was really good. Also, my screenwriting class is competition based to get into the next level, so a little extra advice is warranted now and again. He did have some helpful suggestions that definitely made the pages stronger. I also got to drop it in there that this will be my fourth completed first draft. Of course, that could come back to bite me if it proves that after writing three other screenplays, taking one through a second draft, I still can't write or structure, but I hope instead that it will prove to him that I'm dedicated to this craft and want to pursue it.

While I'm on break I'm hoping to spend one of my luxurious lazy days in Florida thinking about my future in the industry. Not that I'm set in entering it (it's just what I tell people), but if I do, I have bigger plans than the be a script reader-sell a screenplay-slowly make connections-make a short-go to grad school, all culminating in the getting paid to stay at home and write dream. Not that that wouldn't be great, I just have some... different ideas.

Over break I'm also going to scheme a way to get one of my shorts made before the end of the semester. Find a crew, find a cast, hammer out a production schedule, draft another version of the script, etc. etc. If it works, I finally might have a reason to get that website my brother's been trying to convince me that I want just so that he can design it.

I've also decided to explore the idea of writing a short "season" of websoides. It sounds challenging and therefore fun. How to add that on top of writing a feature screenplay, directing/producing a short, and the most draining academic semester I've had? Maybe I'll let the idea percolate for a little while.

I have to change buses in the nearby metro "city." People talk about this city being scary, and, having been homegrown on the West Side of Manhattan myself, I've always disparaged such comments. However, bus terminals in general are just a bit sketchy.

Here's to hoping I find some good stories, just not any life threatening ones. More updates from the airport/train station/retired persons community club coming soon.

Once I get past my midterms, I'll have a real post...

The mistakes I've made
That caused pain
I could have done without
All my selfish thought
All my pride
The things I hide
You have forgot about
They're all behind you
They'll never find you
They're on the ocean floor
Your sins are forgotten
They're on the bottom
Of the ocean floor
My misdeeds
All my greed
All the things that haunt me now
They're not a pretty sight to see
But they're wiped away
By a mighty, mighty wave
A mighty, mighty wave
Your sins are erased
And they are no more
They're out on the ocean floor
Take them away
To return no more
Take them away
To the ocean floor

- "Ocean Floor" by Audio Adrenaline

The Proof is in the Pudding - what does that even mean??

Brett has posted about his fifth day of the Nicholls ceremonies. Mm, I love living vicariously.

Yesterday I got a chance to see a sneak preview of Forgetting Sarah Marshall (and really, I did think to myself, a movie I get to see before Billy Mernit??). The director, Nicholas Stoller, came to present it to us and hold a Q&A afterwards. It was a great screening. Maybe I don't go to enough horrifyingly embarrassing comedies, but it's been a lot time since I've sat in an audience that's laughed together so much.

In one sense, I don't like talking about what I think about movies. I think it's because, as a film student, I feel like I'm supposed to have a different opinion than everyone else - a more educated, analytical opinion about movies. And some part of me does that when I watch movies. I do analyze, I do look for turning points and structure, and sometimes, especially in an academic setting, I enjoy it. But in general, when I watch movies, I do it for personal enjoyment. My friend asked me once what my top five favourite movies are. I think I have the list floating around here somewhere, but I can tell you, it wasn't a list full of obscure cinematic classics. I'm pretty sure Lord of the Rings was on there, recent Oscar nominee Walk the Line, and standard cult classic Fight Club. There are movies that I enjoy, in a strictly personal sense. I once used the phrase "in my professional opinion" when talking about a movie, and it was a joke when I said it, but it held a little bit of tension for me. You expect people who study poli sci to have stronger, more educated opinions about politics. You expect someone who's a doctor to be able to use their medical knowledge outside of the hospital as much as within. So when people ask me what I think about a film, what do they expect me to say? I know my friends don't expect too much, because they consistently joke about my major, but one day I'm supposed to be a professional in this field.

I'm just going to blame it on my terrible memory. I just don't feel like I can talk analytically about a movie after just seeing it once. : )

Screenwriting class is progressing. We're done with prewriting and are supposed to turn in our first five pages next week. We turned in step outlines last time. We talked about the first five minutes and what you can tell about character and story through the scene. We watched the first five minutes of Lost, and our guru asked us what we knew about Jack from the scene. I most definitely said, "That he's hot!" Ok, I said it more quietly than that. Then we watched the first five minutes of Pirates of the Caribbean. Am I noticing a trend here?

Giving up something for Lent? I sort of am (I came up with it a day later, too). It's more like an experiment, really. We'll see how it goes. : )