Just Be

You can travel the world but you can’t run away

from the person you are in your heart

You can be who you want to be

make us believe in you

keep all your light in the dark

If you’re searching for truth

you must look in the mirror

and make sense of what you can see

 

just be

just be

 

They say learning to love yourself

is the first step

that you take when you want to be real

and flying on planes to exotic locations

won’t teach you how you really feel

face up to the fact that you are who you are

and nothing can change that belief

 

just be

just be

 

cause now i know it’s not so far to where i go

the hardest part

is inside me

i need to just be

 

i was lost and i’m still lost but i feel so much better

18 months later

The autumn of 2011 has blown by at a furious pace. I’ve been a resident of the  Denver-metro area for 18 months now; personal record in staying put for these gypsy feet. My kiddo has been reunited with me full-time for her Kindergarten year. She’s been taking swimming, gymnastics and dance for the past 2 months, so our week is filled with activities. Between school events, birthday parties and general life, It’s no wonder I’ve felt the days slip away before I can savor them. To be honest, I was scared to be a full-time single mom again. I remember when it was second nature to me, cooking, cleaning and attending to my daughter’s every need (in between working full time). But I’ve broadened my world since then. With every hour of free time away from my daughter, I’ve added to my own wants and needs. I’ve started writing screenplays again, spinning music, going to the gym, attending concerts and going on dates. I’ve enjoyed my personal pursuits so immensely, I feared a major breakdown commencing this fall. Like a junkie, I wondered if the sudden withdrawal from sex, drugs and rock n’ roll (so to speak) would cause me to resent and hate my darling child. A little dramatic, I know, but In case you hadn’t noticed, it’s all or nothing for me. I have phenomenal good luck or a curse hanging over my head. One of the hardest things about being a single mom (for me) is knowing where to draw the line, and I’ve lost sleep over whether my decisions have negatively affected my kid.

But miraculously I’ve adjusted. Now that LB is older, she understands I am my own person. I’m more than just her mommy. I have friends, I have a job, I like to dance and sing and drink wine sometimes.  She also knows the world is bigger than just our 800 sq ft apartment, and I think she’s starting realize it doesn’t revolve around the workings of a 5-year-old. There are grown-up activities and kid activities, and she’s learning the difference. And I’m pretty sure she’s not going to need therapy (unless I’ve just jinxed myself).

If anything, she’s pushing me into getting married and getting her a daddy. To which I responded, “Uh, you have a daddy already.”  

“I know, but two is always better than one,” said my child.

And yes I’ve been on some dates. Nothing I’ve been interested in pursuing further. Honestly, I think I’ve become too hard to impress. Pure companionship isn’t enough to trigger my interest anymore.  Maybe my ego is too big, because if I’m going to commit to one person, I want someone as badass as I am. HAHA! I’ve become pretty selfish, obviously. Instead of wondering how I can best serve the man in my life, I now wonder what spices they can add to my metaphorical stew. I’m happy. I like my life, and if I can’t see it being better with a person added to the mix, what’s the point in being with them? Is that a little effed up or what?

I have plans. I have places I wanna go. I have things I want to experience. I need someone who’s on board with that, oh, and doesn’t mind a growing kid tagging along,  because she’s coming too! The older and bigger she gets, the more excited I am to experience life with her.  If a dude wants to be a part of that, awesome! I’m down to have a partner who’s just as excited and passionate about the future as I am. And I don’t need a downer, cause I’m not holding back anymore. If someone isn’t going to live up to my expectations, I’m perfectly happy keeping my boys on the side. That way everyone wins, right?

Or maybe I should lay off the supplements.

Done

Obviously I’m finding it extremely hard to write both my blog and screenplays at the same time. Maybe I don’t have enough creativity to stretch that far. Here’s what I’ve been up to in the past months:

 Elevation:7000 had a moment of triumph when it was selected as a Quarterfinalist for the Nicholls Fellowship. It didn’t make it any further, but my contact information was circulated through members of  ”the industry” and I’ve had letters of interest from both Game 7 films and Energy Entertainment. I’ve sent my script to both of them. No word back.  C’est la vie!

Stoner Chicks was submitted to Bluecat Screenplay Competition and was subsequently ripped to shreds. I’m working on a rewrite, and trying to find a better focus for the stoner storyline. I’ve started a writer’s group amongst friends in an attempt to get clarity and some audience perspective.  We read some scenes out loud and it was good to hear a few laughs

I want to get back to finishing my Single Parent Movie review list, but  I seriously feel that being so involved with screenwriting has damaged my descriptive ability. There’s such a stigma against long-winded writing in screenplays that I’ve gutted a lot of the “pretty” out of my paragraphs. Directors/Agents/Producers aren’t reading your script for enjoyment of the English language, they want you to get to the POINT. In 3 sentences or less, what do you want your audience to see, feel and understand about your story? NOW GO.

This type of writing is exhausting, especially when I’ve had to censor myself so harshly. I’m a Pisces! We LOVE pretty! We ADORE flowery! It makes this ugly, terrible world go round!  Spewing bullsh** is our forte. But getting the same criticism over and over was hurting my little fishy soul. I had to change. I had to work harder. I had to get some type of professional approval.  So I did, and I did. I may be a better screenwriter now, but I think I’m a crappier blogger. I don’t know how to feel about that.

Speaking of ugly, I’m having a hard time dealing with the world right now. I’m just DONE with it.

I’m thinking of cancelling my cable, which I had originally started upon the anticipation of basketball season. Since the NBA is cohort of greedy bastards, I doubt there will be a season this year. And I’m sick of it. When it becomes only about money, I’m done. I’m done watching the idiots on Jersey Shore get paid to embarrass my country overseas. I’m done watching a bunch of single women get publicly humiliated on Tough Love and Why am I Still Single? I’m done watching the increasingly awful stories on Intervention. I’m done with watching people crying over “not losing enough weight” on The Biggest Loser.  Up until last night, the only show I’ve really been enjoying is House Hunters.  I guess I’m at the stage of my life where I wonder what it would be like to own a place. I liked seeing all the different locations and options, but last night it was too much.

I watched back-to-back episodes:

Episode #1: a single, middle-aged Black woman whose budget was $150,000 (similar to what I would have if I could buy a house).  All they could show her were apartments and townhouses; No cute cottages, no big yards, no white picket fences. She tried to haggle with the buyers, but none of them would give in. She finally settled on a shoddy, 850-square-foot townhouse, built in 1975. I could feel her disappointment as she signed the papers.

Episode #2: Two 20-something White girls, living in their Grandma’s attic, decide to buy a place with a budget of $400,000. I know there’s 2 of them but that’s MORE than double what the first lady had to spend. They chirped and twittered around the gorgeous properties the realtor showed them, fretting over ugly cabinets and not enough closet space. I couldn’t take it anymore. I had to turn it off.

Between all of the above, and the fact my kid won’t watch anything except Nausicaä  at the moment, I think I’m done with cable.

DONE.

New England Welcome

I’ve always prided myself on my adaptability.  Having moved almost every year of my life, I’ve learned how to be resourceful, how to navigate unfamiliar terrain, and how to find a safe place from enemies.

Going from the urban landscape of southern California to the quaint covered-bridge hills of Vermont was about as extreme as an intranational relocation gets. I was seven years old, almost finished with first grade. My dad had just completed college, and received an offer to teach an elementary school music program. My mom was still finishing on her online degree to become a social worker. In a leap of faith, my parents packed our entire life and drove  2856 miles across the United States.

Scarf Skirt

Last year I was going through all my old clothes and found what was left of my most beloved pair of jeans. They had been turned into cut-off shorts, but the ends were so frayed and ragged, I wondered if it was time for them to got to a better place. With a heavy heart, I threw them into the “give away” pile, right on top of a scarf I had found in a thrift store years ago, but never had worn.

I held up the scarf to the pair of cut-offs.  Hell, they were both in the give away pile, so I might as well cut them up, right? I sliced the remaining legs off my cut-offs, and began to sew the scarf along the bottom seam. What resulted was a slightly ragged, but extremely cute half-jeans, half-skirt combo.

People (ok, mostly hippies and barflys) have commented on my invention, and since last year, I’ve made another scarf skirt for the summer. I feel like maybe I could make them for other people.  If they sent me their jeans, and told me what kind of fabric they liked, I could make them a scarf-skirt.  Easy.

I don’t know..Would you send me your jeans  if I could turn them into something like the picture above?

My Ideal Day

6:00 am – Arise, shower. Get dressed.

6:30 am- wake up child, feed, pack lunch.

7:30 am – Listen to NPR News.

8:00 am- Drop child off at school.

8:30 am – Return home, check Facebook, turn on Dance Podcasts. Jot down songs I want to download.

9:00 am - Yoga

10:00 am-  Blog/Freelance writing/Download songs/

12:00 pm – Lunch with friends or someone equally awesome.

1:00 pm- Make Astrological charts/read tarot cards/Make Astroart

2:00 pm - Make Mix of recently downloaded songs/Dance/Workout

3:30 pm – Pick up child from school

4:00 pm- Activity with child: basketball, swimming, playground, hiking, art (or homework)

5:00 pm- Make dinner from scratch.

6:00 pm – Eat dinner/watch movie /play game with child.

7:00 pm- Dishes/Bath/Book for child

8:00 pm – Bedtime for child.

8:30 pm – Wine/Screenwriting

10:30 pm-  DJ Mix for audience/Go out /Networking

Pizza Hut Stories: Pt 1

Standing at the end of the oven, I let the heat scorch my hand as I waited for the large 2-topping pizza to appear. It was the thick of summer, 2005.  Inside the Pizza Hut, my skin sweltered like ripe fruit, sweat visible on my red and blue uniform.

In a time where gas was cheap, responsibilities were few, and expectations were low, my job as a delivery driver was easy, fun and carried many freedoms. My coworkers were teenagers and ex-cons, Mexicans and drug addicts, single moms and toothless elders.  None of them cared I had recently fled Hollywood, escaping back to the mountains of Colorado, seeking refuge from the bright lights.

I cut the pizza deftly, packing it into the cardboard box and stuffing it into the delivery bag in less than a minute.  The door to the walk-in freezer was cracked, and I stared at it, tempted to go in and cool off.  I had been locked in a Walk-In before, when I was 15 and working my first fast food job. The lights were off and the door was held shut by laughing teenage boys.

In the back room, Margaret was making dough. Her grey stringy hair fell across her face as she hummed to herself. She’d been humming for the last 3 hours straight, and nothing resembling a song. The noises coming from her lips were jerky, random and without sense at all. She was high on Meth.

Review: Y Tu Mama Tambien

Since The Nuggets were eliminated after round one of the playoffs, I subsequently cancelled my cable and restarted my Netflix  account.

During his last visit, The Scorpio activated Netflix on my Wii and now I’ve been enjoying the constant stream of movies flowing into my TV. See, he’s good for other things besides sex.

I don’t remember what first intrigued me to see Y Tu Mama Tambien.  I was a sophomore in college when it came out, so I’m assuming my interest was film-school related. It was also the time when I decided to switch my major from straight-up Film to Media Studies and Writing. Since I’ve graduated they’ve added an actual “Screenwriting” major (go figure).

The film was nominated for Best Original Screenplay in 2001. Seeing how it was written in Spanish, and subtitled for English audiences, I wonder how literally the captions were translated.  Either way, the dialogue is luscious. It’s rich. It’s full of life. It makes you laugh and cry and gasp and smile. 

The story itself is simple enough: Two high school graduates take a road trip with a seductive older woman who has nothing to lose. It’s also a journey through the heart of Mexico, the dialogue interrupted by strange pockets of narration throughout the movie.

I’ve never used narration in my scripts. I’ve been chastised for using flashbacks, but to me, narration also serves the purpose of a flashback. Its explains details we cannot see. The unknown facts that somehow make the story more relevant.  Although the narration in Y Tu Mama Tambien is stark and seemingly out-of-place, it adds a sense of documentary to the film. It takes self-importance away from each character, as if they are just another element in the bigger picture. Each revelation is dark, letting the audience know some secret that the characters are keeping from each other.  It tells the truth, when the scene is clouded with mystery.

I like it. I don’t know how to do it in my own screenplay though.

This movie brings both incredible joy and incredible sadness. There is a melancholy feel at the end of it. Sometimes there is shock, as if you can’t believe what you are watching, but you still want to see more. It’s funny. It’s crude. Its young. It’s old. It’s traditional. It’s modern. It’s sexy.

And event though the ending is utterly and completely FINAL, I somehow want to see a Y Tu Mama Tambien 2!

New ideas

There’s a few deadlines coming up for some competitions, and I should be polishing Stoner Chicks for submission, but I’ve got some new ideas I want to share.

I saw this article a few months ago (while I was writing Stoner Chicks) and  immediately thought of another Pot Comedy.  First of all, FREE LAND?  You move there, build a house and the only requirement is to share part of your crop (or the cash equivalent) with the rest of the co-op.  So… WHAT IF.. two pot farmers moved there and started building an empire, much to the chagrin of their fellow sharecroppers?

Then I had a dream the other night about an absent-minded Navajo cop running around the reservation trying to find a giant plastic sheep someone had stolen off the top of someone’s business.  I was laughing in my sleep, so I think there’s potential for a comedy.

Don’t quit your dayjob

Elevation:7000 has been universally rejected from every contest and film festival I’ve submitted it to. I’m trying not to think of all those entry fees as wasted money, because I am learning something in the process. I hope.  I did get some actual feedback from the last contest, which was helpful and boosted my confidence slightly. See below:

The set up in your opening five pages is great. You give enough setting detail to authenticate the characters you introduce. Each of them is a clear product of their environment. There is a humor to their situation. This combination makes for intrigue and sustained interest in their unfolding stories. There is also an edge to each of them, which quickly begins to build tension as soon as the story gets going. Your dialogue is also sharp, witty and realistic to your fully-fleshed characters. These people do what they must to survive.

I scored very well in this contest, but I did not move on to the semi-finals.  The second reviewer liked my screenplay even better. Here’s what they said:

I’ve had the opportunity to read quite a few screenplays and I must say that this is the closest anyone has come to a small but powerful, independent feeling story.  The cast of characters was eclectic and interesting.  How their paths crossed, became friends and their stories played out was well done. Your description of the four corners area was well done, especially the area around Cortez, a place that I have been.  Your knowledge of the locals and the reservation life indicated some experience, that you know the area.  One of the best things a screenwriter can do is write about what they know and you seem to have done just that. I consider this a very good screenplay and with a little polish will be a powerful story that a good director would jump at the chance to make

I haven’t submitted Stoner Chicks to any contests yet. I’ve started a third screenplay, which I’m calling Dayworld right now. It’s a Sci-Fi/Vampire movie. The description is on my “Projects” page.