"Feels like home to me"

If anyone knows me, they probably know how much I've struggled with my decision to come to Michigan. Once I got here I was pretty much stuck, because no school of any repute lets you transfer in more than two years' worth of credits, but my first semester here it was a constant question in my head as I walked around campus - what if I had made a mistake? This year, I thought I had conquered that question, for the most part. It still haunted around some days, but I had a life here, a place, friends that were like family. About two weeks ago, the lie popped up again, stronger than ever before - had I made a mistake? I thought I had come to Michigan trusting God, but maybe I had trusted myself instead. Maybe I had made a foolish, selfish decision. I had always thought of coming here as an act of faith, but for what purpose?

There's a large open space on campus that we call the Diag. It's sorta in the middle of campus, and in the middle of the Diag is a metal M embedded into the ground, put there by the class of 1953. There's a superstition that if you step on the M, you'll fail your first blue book (essay) exam. The only way to break the curse is to go streaking through the Diag at midnight or something. But once you've taken and passed your first blue book exam, you can step on the M as much as you want. I think it's a sort of coming of age for a student, after they've taken on the challenge of the university and conquered it.

The thing is, I will never step on the M. The M to me doesn't represent this school or the challenges of academics or anything to do with the school, really. It has to do with my decision to trust God, not just when I first came to Michigan, but day after day after day. It is a symbol of faith for me. And now, it's a representation of the reward that comes from that faith. Because I believe with my whole heart that God has me here with a purpose, a plan, and that He's using me here. This is home for me, more than any other place I've lived in the last four years. And I am so thankful that I am here, despite the struggle it's been.

I've journaled about it recently, and what was even cooler was that I got to share the *full* story of me and Michigan with a friend who was just asking my advice on different colleges. It was so cool, because you know that feeling you get when you're talking to someone, and you just know that what you're saying is truth? This is some of what I wrote: "I would love to know the purpose, the plan - but do I need to? The choices I've made, whether optimal or not, God has worked out for good... I can trust in that. And if I can trust in that, the choices that brought me here are neither right nor wrong - they are irrelevant. What matters is that God is using me here and now and that I am still choosing to trust Him."

I was reading the screenplay for The Big Chill for class today, and it was like a final blow to my doubt, oddly enough. The writer is Lawrence Kasdan, a University of Michigan alum. The characters all graduated from Michigan, reference their time there some, and the closing scene even takes place there. I was reading the script when one of the characters mentioned studying for a blue book exam - and I almost started crying. Because I love my school. I've never felt so much pride in being associated with an academic institution. And it's not because of Michigan at all. I love my school because I love what it has taught me about God. There's no place I'd rather be. There's no home I'd rather have.

I wish I had had the *updated* syllabus last weekend...

I had a hard time this week. I kept forgetting what day of the week it was. On Monday I kept thinking it was Tuesday or Sunday, then on Thursday it felt like Friday.

I think I'm coming to know my limits. Whether I respect them or not is something completely different. But I'm starting to realize where I need boundaries, in my schedule, in my relationships, in my health, in my academics. Okay, that last one if probably just a result of poor planning. I think both Emily and Bill have talked about how many pages they can write in a day before they max out. I think I found where I max out, maybe. I was have a really crappy, draining week and was therefore probably not being as diligent as I could have been in my academics. Then it came to Tuesday night around 10:00, and I had the first half of my second act due in screenwriting class the next day. I was *planning* on starting that night, but I crashed again and decided that the best thing to do was another assignment while I watched Walk the Line (that movie always makes me tear up at the end. It's so beautiful. One of those movies that restores my hope in people) and not go to sleep until 3 AM. Which left me only Wednesday until 6 PM to write Act IIa. We have step outlines for this class, but I wasn't sure how many pages it would end up being. So after my class got out at noon on Wednesday, I parked myself in the student Union and wrote. One location change, a grilled cheese, and five hours later, I had the 26 pages of my Act IIa. As I was walking back toward my door to print it out, I wondered if my temples would explode from the pressure.

Besides being draining and head-ache inducing, I think I liked writing like this better than spreading it out, a scene a day or whatever. I've always written well under pressure when it came to classes, but I never *had* a deadline before for creative writing, not really (I don't count Script Frenzy). I felt much more immersed in and connected to the story. It was an intense experience, which I think is good. Writing should be intense. If it's not, you're short changing your story.

I also learned an important idea about condensing story beats. I'm not typically an over-writer; I'm usually *too* concise. Current Draft is completely different, though. My first act was 34 pages. As I was writing the second act, I was working on my step outline and my story beats. I totally killed one that was going to be a huge scene; it was repetitive and boring and the conflict wasn't escalating in an exciting way. Another time I condescend a couple of story beats into one scene, which I think is a great idea because it 1. makes the scene more complicated and interesting, simply plot-wise, 2. makes fun bookmarks that you know I love, and 3. if you can play the conflict of the two beats off each other, it will make the conflict in the scene that much more engaging.

But really - I'm not waiting until the day of to write Act IIb.

Speaking of Script Frenzy - it's in April this year. I think this is better for me, overall, because I start my summer job in the middle of June, and so this year I'll actually have the entire month to work on my script. But April is like, next month. The project I want to do is going to require a good amount of research and I'll still be in the middle of school. Yikes!

I wanted to have the storyboarding for "Join This Group?" done this weekend. I only need to get one more actor signed on. We're going to end up shooting three straight days, I think, which will be fun and intense. I also wanted to watch a lot of movies this weekend. We started on Thursday with the Blair Witch Project, watched An Officer and A Gentleman last night, and will probably watch The Big Chill tonight, since apparently Current Draft is a story in similar vein and we have connections to the writer. Not like real connections. Just connections.

Happy St. Patrick's Day! I'm wearing my Ireland stamp earrings in honor.

Jackson

We got married in a fever, hotter than a pepper sprout,
We've been talkin' 'bout Jackson, ever since the fire went out.
I'm goin' to Jackson, I'm gonna mess around,
Yeah, I'm goin' to Jackson,
Look out Jackson town.

Well, go on down to Jackson; go ahead and wreck your health.
Go play your hand you big-talkin' man, make a big fool of yourself,
You're goin' to Jackson; go comb your hair!
Honey, I'm gonna snowball Jackson.
See if I care.

When I breeze into that city, people gonna stoop and bow. (Hah!)
All them women gonna make me, teach 'em what they don't know how,
I'm goin' to Jackson, you turn-a loose-a my coat.
'Cos I'm goin' to Jackson.
"Goodbye," that's all she wrote.

But they'll laugh at you in Jackson, and I'll be dancin' on a Pony Keg.
They'll lead you 'round town like a scalded hound,
With your tail tucked between your legs,
You're goin' to Jackson, you big-talkin' man.
And I'll be waitin' in Jackson, behind my Jaypan Fan,

Well now, we got married in a fever, hotter than a pepper Sprout,
We've been talkin' 'bout Jackson, ever since the fire went out.
I'm goin' to Jackson, and that's a fact.
Yeah, we're goin' to Jackson, ain't never comin' back.

Well, we got married in a fever, hotter than a pepper sprout'
And we've been talkin' 'bout Jackson, ever since the fire went..

- Johnny Cash and June Carter

Lives Agape Productions

We didn't even let you get settled into our new blog address and title before we connected to the new endeavor - Lives Agape Productions. As I've started working on projects independent of class, I thought it would be fun to have a website for them, not only to showcase them when they're finished but to have a blog tracking their production and other fun features I'm sure I'll think of later. Really, this is playing at having a production company, but it's good fun anyway. I realized that I haven't really mentioned the short I've been working on that will be Lives Agape's first project. It's a short mockumentary called "Join This Group?" about the (over) importance of Facebook in a collegiate setting. I'm excited about it. It should be fun, but it's going to be a whirlwind of a production. We have three crew members, myself included, and we're hoping to pull it all off in three days of shooting. Hopefully, the interview style that dominates the script will help cut down on needed shooting time. Once the short is completed, there will be a link to that as well as to the Lives Agape Production Blog.

The reason I chose the name Lives Agape for the production company played largely on the meaning I want my stories to carry (ok, so maybe a mockumentary about Facebook is not the clearest example of what I want to demonstrate in my movies). I like to think that "lives agape" can mean open lives or lives of love. I think that by crafting stories that openly examine life, we can learn how to live lives of extreme love, which is, perhaps, the only way to live.

I read Galatians and Ephesians the other night for my Bible study, and I came across a verse that I had read and liked before, one I think people will find very little to argue with. Galations 5:6b, "The only thing that counts is faith expressing itself through love."

Lives agape, lives of love.

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.