Sometimes I tweet instead of blog, because random (or not so random) phrases will come to mind, or a lyric from a song, or a saying that I was thinking about writing down later, or just plain complaints. All of them have to do with whatever I'm feeling at the time. I am so emotional that I barely understand anything but feelings. I don't understand how someone can make a decision without first feeling something about it. But that's me. I realize that plenty of people aren't like that. The thing is, I should probably put all of this energy into blogging or my screenplays or my journal. Or if I'm going to explode tweets everywhere, making a mess, I might as well copy some of them into my journal, or at least explain what each one of them means. So here's some tweet from the last week, with explanations:
Just walked back with five bags of groceries and I don't think I'm in good shape. #myshouldershurt. -->I hate grocery shopping. I wanted to stalk up so I didn't have to go again for the next two weeks. I guess I thought I could handle walking back with all of that.
True Grit 1969 is far better than this Coen Brothers - thing. I wish this younger generation could appreciate the beauty of the original.
6 Feb -->I don't think I have to explain this too much. Everyone I know likes the new True Grit. Even that father of mine who raised me on John Wayne. Not to say that I'm a John Wayne fan. But there's some nostalgia there.
I'm diggin' your laugh and I'm lovin' your quick wit. I even love it when you're fakin' it. #IckyThump 8 Feb --> The White Stripes broke up on February 2nd. Since then I've been having a marathon. I didn't particularly feel like the lyrics suggest at the moment toward any particular person but I would like to.
Getting an eerie feeling that I'm being watched or something.
8 Feb --> My Skype status is always set to online. Hardly ever are other people onlline unless I set up a time with them, but when they are online, I mistakenly think that they can hear me. Though I know they can't until we are on the phone.
@cliffy4all and not anymore. :/
8 Feb --> Was skyping, and was not anymore. Nadia and Cliff's internet sucks.
"I'm getting old, my skin's coming off, nothing makes any sense to me. Nothing makes any sense."
9 Feb --> I feel like Clementine half of the time. On this day I was angry at everything and I felt ugly and stupid.
I wouldn't raise my child inside the city anyway.
10 Feb --> yep. This is a lyric. Regina Spektor, "Boababs." But I really wouldn't. I used to think I would. But not after being here. They really would grow up too fast.
Reading through my old tweets. Why am I so dramatic? Why are there so many typos? #whereismymind 10 Feb --> I didn't like myself while reading them. I suddenly became terrified of becoming my mother.
I would write some more explaining these tweets but I'm dangerously teetering on the edge of becoming a narcissist.
Friday, February 11, 2011
Sunday, February 6, 2011
Walls
I haven’t updated in a long time. I apologize for that, really. I am scolding myself for not being more of a regular writer when it comes to writing about my life.
As I settle in to California life I find myself hopeful. I am a bundle of quirks and flaws. I take a long time to adapt to things, I lose focus easily, and I have a hard time making decisions. But luckily, this transition is an improvement from my transition to college. Freshman year, it took a whole semester before I even started feeling comfortable to trust people. This time, it only took a month.
I intern at a company called Industry Entertainment. I read scripts and write coverage for them. My first week was awesome. I work three days a week, Monday, Wednesday, and Friday, 10am – 6pm. At first I thought these days would be long, and that they’d cut in to my lovely days of laziness (though I prefer to call them days I set aside to reflect and have fun) but they don’t seem to be long at all. Working in an office as opposed to working in a cafeteria makes quite a difference. Reading scripts? Hell yeah. My eyes hurt at the end of the day but whatever. On Friday my boss praised me for the coverage I wrote. He was going to give me feedback but couldn’t find anything. He was further impressed that for my first time writing it, I wrote it in two hours. It was then that I realized it was safe for me to let my walls down just a little. I often believe the false statement that since I’m an Ohioan living in LA, I don’t know anything. It was then that I realized - or remembered – that I do know something. It’s not really that big of a deal, but I was pretty encouraged.
What’s great is that I am becoming more focused as I read more scripts for my job. Yes, my mind wanders a lot. Yes, I have to read the same paragraph over and over sometimes. But I feel improvement taking place.
I don’t know what the heck to write about. I’ve wanted to be attached to my next big project for some time now, and I can’t seem to stay put with just one idea. I’ve started three new stories over the last few months. I’m currently trying to stick with my latest. What do I really care about? Going to the Writer’s Guild panel discussion was helpful; particularly hearing Nicole Holofcener (writer of Please Give) and Aaron Sorkin (The Social Network) talk. Nicole said that just she starts writing, takes it one step at a time. She just hears her dialog. I miss the times when I used to do that. I didn’t care about much else. I just did it for fun. That was the stuff that turned out to be the best. But what do I know? I’m still learning, there’s much more to learn. I’ll always be learning.
As I settle in to California life I find myself hopeful. I am a bundle of quirks and flaws. I take a long time to adapt to things, I lose focus easily, and I have a hard time making decisions. But luckily, this transition is an improvement from my transition to college. Freshman year, it took a whole semester before I even started feeling comfortable to trust people. This time, it only took a month.
I intern at a company called Industry Entertainment. I read scripts and write coverage for them. My first week was awesome. I work three days a week, Monday, Wednesday, and Friday, 10am – 6pm. At first I thought these days would be long, and that they’d cut in to my lovely days of laziness (though I prefer to call them days I set aside to reflect and have fun) but they don’t seem to be long at all. Working in an office as opposed to working in a cafeteria makes quite a difference. Reading scripts? Hell yeah. My eyes hurt at the end of the day but whatever. On Friday my boss praised me for the coverage I wrote. He was going to give me feedback but couldn’t find anything. He was further impressed that for my first time writing it, I wrote it in two hours. It was then that I realized it was safe for me to let my walls down just a little. I often believe the false statement that since I’m an Ohioan living in LA, I don’t know anything. It was then that I realized - or remembered – that I do know something. It’s not really that big of a deal, but I was pretty encouraged.
What’s great is that I am becoming more focused as I read more scripts for my job. Yes, my mind wanders a lot. Yes, I have to read the same paragraph over and over sometimes. But I feel improvement taking place.
I don’t know what the heck to write about. I’ve wanted to be attached to my next big project for some time now, and I can’t seem to stay put with just one idea. I’ve started three new stories over the last few months. I’m currently trying to stick with my latest. What do I really care about? Going to the Writer’s Guild panel discussion was helpful; particularly hearing Nicole Holofcener (writer of Please Give) and Aaron Sorkin (The Social Network) talk. Nicole said that just she starts writing, takes it one step at a time. She just hears her dialog. I miss the times when I used to do that. I didn’t care about much else. I just did it for fun. That was the stuff that turned out to be the best. But what do I know? I’m still learning, there’s much more to learn. I’ll always be learning.
Tuesday, January 18, 2011
Observations, The future, An Interesting Life
A week has gone by since I got to LA, and I’m still trying to figure out how exactly I got here. Of course, I do know how I got here. The decision to come was made after many fickle moments, much convincing, and prayer. I never really knew what to expect, no matter how much I tried to reduce my uncertainty by finding out about the apartments and the school. Those times of conversing with Andrew, with friends, and the mental preparation of saying goodbye all seem far away to me, like a dream. I know it happened, but coming here was like stepping into another world. New habitat. New faces. New streets (fast ones). New stores. New culture. Palm trees and smog. A world where my own face is the only familiar one. It would be more sensible if, being here, and all the things I do every day and the people I meet, seemed more like a dream; but it’s very real, and all the things up until now are the distant memory. It has only been a week.
Most of the students have intentions of living here after graduation so they can strive to “make it.” I believe in was on a Monday in our Internship class that we heard some discouraging statistics of how many people actually are successful in the mainstream film business. Then there was a lot of talk about ministering in LA, and how for most people, it is life or death, this success they speak of; but we Christians have the freedom of not having control, of letting God take it. The liberation for us is supposedly in letting go and being content with wherever the chips fall. This made sense. Okay.
We learned how to write a story. Do or die situations. Having the character face a tough choice. We are all writing ten minute plays. Four of them will be selected to be filmed. I believe I’ve failed at this task. My character is not facing a tough situation. The only part of this formula I followed was “what is the worst thing that could happen?” and having the character change. I won’t spend much time blogging about this, but I’m constantly struggling with conventional methods of story-telling. I’m constantly wondering if the method is truthful, and if I can tell a story that is both entertaining and truthful. I watched my roommates glance back and forth from their how-to notes to their scripts. Granted, not all of them are writers, but I felt uneasy just seeing them do it. I cannot say I’m happy with my own script either. One, because it is not at all conventional, two, I’m disappointed in myself for not choosing a new idea. Enough about that.
It seemed that everywhere I turned this past week, students and professors were talking about making a living in Los Angeles. In a small group, we were asked to share what our dream jobs would be if we had absolutely no obstacles. I said, “To write screenplays, work closely with the director if not be the director, and to have a family.” Rebecca, the professor and the leader of our particular group, said, “We have a tough time keeping women out here. I think I’ll get all the women together for lunch and discuss how women live in the film business.” My first thought to this was, “You’re not keeping me!!! I’m going to do what I want!” But then I realized that I am allowed to make choices, and I will make these choices based on what I believe I’m supposed to be doing, and that this is only the first week, and that I’m being a bit pessimistic.
This really is a city of dreams. How could it not be with places named Miracle Mile and Sunset Boulevard. There are several people we’ve met at the school who seem to ‘know’ people. I walked the Walk of Fame. People dress as celebrities there and charge people to take pictures with them. That’s how they make money. I know all of this is very vague and I wish there was more time in the world so I could record all things that I see and think. Rebecca talked about the success of her musician husband, about the famous people he knows and the places they’ve been. It’s hard to remember the specifics at the moment but I remember she sat back in her chair thoughtfully and said, “it’s been an interesting life.” I wonder what I’m going to say once I’ve settled down. I would certainly rather live an interesting life as opposed to a tiring life.
I’m wondering how the rest of these months are going to be if I’m homesick (and Malone-sick, a phrase I heard out here) after these few short days. I suppose we’ll wait and see. Perhaps this growing pain will pass in quicker time than I’m expecting. Good night, Los Angeles.
Most of the students have intentions of living here after graduation so they can strive to “make it.” I believe in was on a Monday in our Internship class that we heard some discouraging statistics of how many people actually are successful in the mainstream film business. Then there was a lot of talk about ministering in LA, and how for most people, it is life or death, this success they speak of; but we Christians have the freedom of not having control, of letting God take it. The liberation for us is supposedly in letting go and being content with wherever the chips fall. This made sense. Okay.
We learned how to write a story. Do or die situations. Having the character face a tough choice. We are all writing ten minute plays. Four of them will be selected to be filmed. I believe I’ve failed at this task. My character is not facing a tough situation. The only part of this formula I followed was “what is the worst thing that could happen?” and having the character change. I won’t spend much time blogging about this, but I’m constantly struggling with conventional methods of story-telling. I’m constantly wondering if the method is truthful, and if I can tell a story that is both entertaining and truthful. I watched my roommates glance back and forth from their how-to notes to their scripts. Granted, not all of them are writers, but I felt uneasy just seeing them do it. I cannot say I’m happy with my own script either. One, because it is not at all conventional, two, I’m disappointed in myself for not choosing a new idea. Enough about that.
It seemed that everywhere I turned this past week, students and professors were talking about making a living in Los Angeles. In a small group, we were asked to share what our dream jobs would be if we had absolutely no obstacles. I said, “To write screenplays, work closely with the director if not be the director, and to have a family.” Rebecca, the professor and the leader of our particular group, said, “We have a tough time keeping women out here. I think I’ll get all the women together for lunch and discuss how women live in the film business.” My first thought to this was, “You’re not keeping me!!! I’m going to do what I want!” But then I realized that I am allowed to make choices, and I will make these choices based on what I believe I’m supposed to be doing, and that this is only the first week, and that I’m being a bit pessimistic.
This really is a city of dreams. How could it not be with places named Miracle Mile and Sunset Boulevard. There are several people we’ve met at the school who seem to ‘know’ people. I walked the Walk of Fame. People dress as celebrities there and charge people to take pictures with them. That’s how they make money. I know all of this is very vague and I wish there was more time in the world so I could record all things that I see and think. Rebecca talked about the success of her musician husband, about the famous people he knows and the places they’ve been. It’s hard to remember the specifics at the moment but I remember she sat back in her chair thoughtfully and said, “it’s been an interesting life.” I wonder what I’m going to say once I’ve settled down. I would certainly rather live an interesting life as opposed to a tiring life.
I’m wondering how the rest of these months are going to be if I’m homesick (and Malone-sick, a phrase I heard out here) after these few short days. I suppose we’ll wait and see. Perhaps this growing pain will pass in quicker time than I’m expecting. Good night, Los Angeles.
Monday, January 10, 2011
Are we above the clouds yet?
I finally arrived in LAX three hours after my scheduled time. There are a lot of firsts that I experienced. i.e. first time flying, first time going to a far away state, first time eating airplane food and finding my own way around. The experience on the plane was both expected and unexpected. The neighbors on both of my flights were not as friendly as I anticipated. Nice. But not a “single serving” friend.
It seemed like it took a long time to take off in the first place, since the crew had to clean the snow off the plane. But once we took off I could feel us lifting, and I, the oddball out, gaped out the window; probably the only person there doing so. I looked down at the little lives, the tiny lights blurred together in a swirl partly because of my bad vision and partly because of the snow. Then all went white, and I wondered when we were going to get above the clouds because it seemed like we were there for a long time. Taking off a lot I felt myself reclining, which was when I realized that I hadn’t been to bed all night as it was 6 in the morning and that I was going away for four months and I was leaving everyone behind and my life was about to change forever.
That’s enough of me being dramatic. Anyway, my flight got delayed in Atlanta. So I was stuck there for three hours. I thought I was never going to get off the plane. So when I arrived in LAX, I didn’t actually believe I was in LA, just watching a preview for it. I caught a shuttle which dropped me of at the gate of Park La Brea, so I wondered around for a little while until someone directed me to where I was supposed to be.
Somehow, this third day passed by and I’ve been trying to understand what is happening. From my understanding, this is what’s been happening: orientation, dinner, breakfast, worship, orientation, shopping, orientation, bed, class, introduction, introduction, introduction. “This is life in LA! This is life in LA! This is life in LA!”
A lot of these introductory speeches have been about how to thrive in LA. “Stay here for at least five years, meet people, keep trying though you’ll fall several times” All that jazz (And if I were less tired, I would write more about it.)
And since I’m still trying to get used to Western time and need sleep, I will leave you with this: the palm trees are really tall, the weather is like spring time for us, I can see the Hollywood sign from my bedroom window, and I haven’t a clue where I’m going.
It seemed like it took a long time to take off in the first place, since the crew had to clean the snow off the plane. But once we took off I could feel us lifting, and I, the oddball out, gaped out the window; probably the only person there doing so. I looked down at the little lives, the tiny lights blurred together in a swirl partly because of my bad vision and partly because of the snow. Then all went white, and I wondered when we were going to get above the clouds because it seemed like we were there for a long time. Taking off a lot I felt myself reclining, which was when I realized that I hadn’t been to bed all night as it was 6 in the morning and that I was going away for four months and I was leaving everyone behind and my life was about to change forever.
That’s enough of me being dramatic. Anyway, my flight got delayed in Atlanta. So I was stuck there for three hours. I thought I was never going to get off the plane. So when I arrived in LAX, I didn’t actually believe I was in LA, just watching a preview for it. I caught a shuttle which dropped me of at the gate of Park La Brea, so I wondered around for a little while until someone directed me to where I was supposed to be.
Somehow, this third day passed by and I’ve been trying to understand what is happening. From my understanding, this is what’s been happening: orientation, dinner, breakfast, worship, orientation, shopping, orientation, bed, class, introduction, introduction, introduction. “This is life in LA! This is life in LA! This is life in LA!”
A lot of these introductory speeches have been about how to thrive in LA. “Stay here for at least five years, meet people, keep trying though you’ll fall several times” All that jazz (And if I were less tired, I would write more about it.)
And since I’m still trying to get used to Western time and need sleep, I will leave you with this: the palm trees are really tall, the weather is like spring time for us, I can see the Hollywood sign from my bedroom window, and I haven’t a clue where I’m going.
Friday, January 7, 2011
This will be the start of my entries about LA
I don't have much time to write at the moment.
But let's say that I leave in a matter of hours, and I'm preparing as best I can. It is snowing. I took it in: as I know in Los Angeles there will not be snow.
That's the one thing I can expect. What else can I expect? I'm still not sure.
I promise to be as faithful as I can to writing in this blog as much as possible. Details will come later.
Until then.
"Love ya, later."
~erin
But let's say that I leave in a matter of hours, and I'm preparing as best I can. It is snowing. I took it in: as I know in Los Angeles there will not be snow.
That's the one thing I can expect. What else can I expect? I'm still not sure.
I promise to be as faithful as I can to writing in this blog as much as possible. Details will come later.
Until then.
"Love ya, later."
~erin
Sunday, October 24, 2010
A Moment of Honesty
Today, I returned from my home in Newcomerstown to my home in Canton. I thoroughly enjoyed the time with my family. I also got to spend a whole day with Mallory. That was nice. We went to the Daily Grind, a place which always makes me feel home like.
It feels good to be back. But I feel myself slipping into distraction. I don't want obligations. Ever. I want to be a bum. Okay? Okay.
Over break, I started on a new full length screenplay. The beginning scene involves a woman quitting her job in the middle of the day, running out of the Fashion Bug where she worked. Literally running. In the car, she gets a call from her live-in boyfriend. He tells her about his dream of her leaving him. She continues driving. She doesn't know where she's going; neither do I. The opening lines of the play are: "He hates all the things that I like."
I guess I didn't understand my own reasoning for writing such scenes until recently. It really is easier to leave someone behind if you think they're not understanding you or in your world; or if the little things build up and build up until you realize they're really not that little anymore. And lately I feel misunderstood, the things I want to express underdeveloped and unsaid.
I can't just abandon the things and people in my life just because I become annoyed or bored or tired. I wouldn't want someone to get tired of me.
I'm changing. I become more and more aware of the things I hate and the things I love every day. It's time to be as truthful with others about this as I am with myself. It's time to be honest. Hold your nose, here goes the cold water.
It feels good to be back. But I feel myself slipping into distraction. I don't want obligations. Ever. I want to be a bum. Okay? Okay.
Over break, I started on a new full length screenplay. The beginning scene involves a woman quitting her job in the middle of the day, running out of the Fashion Bug where she worked. Literally running. In the car, she gets a call from her live-in boyfriend. He tells her about his dream of her leaving him. She continues driving. She doesn't know where she's going; neither do I. The opening lines of the play are: "He hates all the things that I like."
I guess I didn't understand my own reasoning for writing such scenes until recently. It really is easier to leave someone behind if you think they're not understanding you or in your world; or if the little things build up and build up until you realize they're really not that little anymore. And lately I feel misunderstood, the things I want to express underdeveloped and unsaid.
I can't just abandon the things and people in my life just because I become annoyed or bored or tired. I wouldn't want someone to get tired of me.
I'm changing. I become more and more aware of the things I hate and the things I love every day. It's time to be as truthful with others about this as I am with myself. It's time to be honest. Hold your nose, here goes the cold water.
Thursday, September 16, 2010
Bursting - I'll spit until I learn how to speak.
I don't think that I can think a single thought to myself. I want everyone to know everything that I'm thinking; as if I were to just say everything out loud, everyone would know exactly what I mean and supernaturally connect with me. It would be cool if certain people had radars about where the other was at certain times, and the radar would tell them when that person was feeling sad or happy and they wouldn't even be in the same room. Ever. Like an emotional Siamese twin. As a kid I used to fantasize about one person who knew everything I was thinking at the exact time I was thinking whether or not I was with them or not.
I guess I can't articulate this thing that I call a supernatural connection. I am only talking about this because it's on the forefront of my mind. Today Nadia was telling a story and it involved her saying: "Do you know if they have a blah blah blah around here?" I thought it was hilarious and I couldn't stop laughing. Even as I lied down to take a nap I couldn't stop laughing. Other things on the forefront of my mind: I'm tired and I need sleep. I need more sleep as I get older, and I'm only twenty two.
I like it when people care about something deeply, like the environment or artistic integrity or health care or self actualization or another human being. I hate talking and talking and saying "what do you think?" and the response is: "I don't know. I just like to do my own thing." I also hate it when I find myself thinking this way. I don't do careless or passionless.
I had the strongest urge to say "I love you" to everyone I saw today. I didn't. I'm messy, and spilling everywhere. I don't want to take the time to collect it all, I want to let it scatter all over the floor. I am going to burst . . . waiting and waiting and waiting. . .I will wait.
I guess I can't articulate this thing that I call a supernatural connection. I am only talking about this because it's on the forefront of my mind. Today Nadia was telling a story and it involved her saying: "Do you know if they have a blah blah blah around here?" I thought it was hilarious and I couldn't stop laughing. Even as I lied down to take a nap I couldn't stop laughing. Other things on the forefront of my mind: I'm tired and I need sleep. I need more sleep as I get older, and I'm only twenty two.
I like it when people care about something deeply, like the environment or artistic integrity or health care or self actualization or another human being. I hate talking and talking and saying "what do you think?" and the response is: "I don't know. I just like to do my own thing." I also hate it when I find myself thinking this way. I don't do careless or passionless.
I had the strongest urge to say "I love you" to everyone I saw today. I didn't. I'm messy, and spilling everywhere. I don't want to take the time to collect it all, I want to let it scatter all over the floor. I am going to burst . . . waiting and waiting and waiting. . .I will wait.
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