Robbed, I Tell You, Robbed
I always loved the word “sister,” probably because I never had one. All I got was bunch of stinkin’ brothers. It’s okay, I learned how to fight, learned street smarts, learned all those secrets about the way boys are.
When my girlfriends start talking about their sisters, I get all starry eyed and imagine what it would be like to have one. Sometimes I get just a little jealous. Tonight my mom was talking about how she made her sister a cake and how her sister bought her some shoes.
Bought her some shoes? I want a sister to buy me some shoes! I want to buy some shoes for a sister, too.
I was robbed, robbed, I tell you. No sister.
Okay it could be worse. At least I have brothers.
Fun Test
Pooks always has the best tests on her blog.
It’s a quick test, but I had to take it three times because I don’t follow instructions. My first card came up “The Devil.” I knew that wasn’t me, went back, changed some answers and then it came back “Death.” Went back again and realized I could choose more than one answer for one of the questions. I didn’t cheat, promise.
You are The Wheel of Fortune
Good fortune and happiness but sometimes a species of
intoxication with success
The Wheel of Fortune is all about big things, luck, change, fortune. Almost always good fortune. You are lucky in all things that you do and happy with the things that come to you. Be careful that success does not go to your head however. Sometimes luck can change.
What Tarot Card are You?
Take the Test to Find Out.
What’s your card? After posting here, you can say hi to Pooks and post your card there, too.
Hypnotized
I didn’t believe in it either until taking a psych class in college. The professor’s husband was a hypnotist and he came out one day and put us all under.
I’d been doing it to myself all my life without realizing it. Extreme daydreaming. Some people call it The Zone or streaming conscious. It is the ability to shut down the left side of the brain (the logical and reasoning side) and let the right brain (artistic, emotional side) rule. This is the sweet spot for writers.
Sometimes it’s easier to get there, just put on some music. Other times I have to subject my mind to something really boring, like exercise. Once it’s on, it’s like a waking dream and I have a hard time shutting it down. Like today, I was going to town on my script but had to meet with a contractor about doing some damn bookshelves. He’s writing down all kinds of numbers, talking about all sorts of materials and I’m staring into space, at some rock concert getting pelted with bottles. The poor guy’s gotta think I’m some sort of freak.
If you know this “Other World,” what do you do to get there?
Edited Note: Max inspired this post. She says “Writing is dreaming awake.” She should know, she is a pro screenwriter. Check out her blog entry, “Thanks.”
Listen Up
When I was a teen my mom refused to listen the radio in the car. She said it was too distracting, but really, it’s because it wasn’t 50’s music. Her stuff.
My iPod has the same stuff my teens have on theirs (plus some of my stuff, of course). When “we” get a new CD, I get to upload it first. I go get lyrics and read them over carefully. I think of their music as one of their peers. They listen to that stuff over and over again (remember doing that as a kid?) I want to know what messages they are hearing. One thing to understand as a parent is that peers can come in and screw up all the work you’ve done raising your kids. All of it.
I don’t buy censored versions or refuse to let them hear things, but if it’s a negative message, we talk about it. Most of the music they listen to is postive. My Chemical Romance is one of their favorite bands (mine too) and although Gerard Way has a death fetish, the main idea is “you do drugs, you will die.” This is something I want my kids to hear over and over. It is the truth.
I’m glad they don’t care much for rap. I’d listen if they did. It’s my job. The Britney Spears days were rough, though. And Hillary Duff, I’d rather hear nails on a chalkboard.
“Shine on You crazy Diamond”
Sorry if you came here after Googling Pink Floyd or Syd Barrett. This is about neither, really. But if you know the song, the rest of this will make sense.
I’ve dreaded this day for a while, the twice a year visit to my shrink to make sure it is the world and not me that is crazy. Presentation is key. Dress. Makeup. Have to look put together, a one hour sit down in front of the mirror, hot irons, foundation, mascara, lipstick, all that. I don’t normally wear all this stuff, but since most people here do, I do it so we don’t waste time talking about hygiene.
Okay, flawless complexion, pressed clothes. Even pass the toothbrush over my diamond ring. Maybe some sparkles will distract him. I’ve decided not to tell him about Shane, my brother who just died. It’ll just hurt to go there, there is nothing that can be done about it and this doc is good, he’ll dig it out of me that Shane had a paranoid schizophrenic episode in the last year. I don’t want him writing on my chart, “keep an eye on her, fam. hx of p. schiz.”
And hell, this doc is super good looking. The most beautiful man in town. If I woke up in a mental ward and he were my doctor, I’d think it was a Barbie Dreamhouse (loudspeaker: Calling Dr. Ken) or that I’m in a soap opera. So, no crying in here, (with three layers of mascara?) Not in front of Dr. Gorgeous.
In the waiting room no one makes eye contact. These are crazy people, right? One guy walks in and tells the receptionist, “I was told I could come here and pick up some samples.” She looks at him dumbfounded. Then he whispers, “Lexapro.” She hands him a bag of drugs and he’s out of there like he’s going to catch something.
Then it’s finally my turn, I flop myself on the comfy sofa and don’t do anything like cross my arms or give off any signs that he can’t poke around in my psyche. He’s got a framed Harvard degree on the wall (would I trust my mind to anything less?). He’s probably a perfect dad, too, his kid’s drawings are all over his desk under a big sheet of glass.
He asks, “What’s been happening in the last few months, dude?” (he’s talks cool too). He relaxes, shoves back in his chair just enough to where I see what’s on the wall to his side. An 8×10 framed up name “Shane” circled in a rainbow of colors.
Fuck!
My hands start shaking and my candy coating cracks off. I ask him if that’s one of his kid’s names and he gets all protective, “Yeah?”
I’m stuck, have to let the cat out of bag or he’ll think I’m some loony after one of his kids.
Good thing I did tell him. He says the drugs probably caused Shane’s psychosis and I don’t have to worry about getting it one day.
I don’t have anything major, just trying to outrun the black dog. There is such a stigma attached to mental illness. People should not have to be ashamed of it. If you or someone you know has it, check out NAMI, an organization that fights this stigma and offers support to those and family members of mental illness.
Hiding in Plain Sight
I’m so proud of my blogroll. Each author on there is either a friend, a friend of a friend, or someone I workshop with.
All except for one. This person, Slynne left a comment on my blog a while back and I snooped back over to her (or his) blog and just fell in love with the writing there. So after reading through the archives, I blogrolled the site. She writes some amazing poetry and just today, she needs some ideas on what to do on her upcoming trip to New York. Mosey on over to her blog and leave a comment for her if you have any ideas, or if you’d like to read some provocative thoughts and poetry. You can find her at So You Think I Can. The post about New York is here.
The Dream World I Live In
My dad used to say it more than anyone else, “You live in a dream world.” I used to hate it, that he had me so pegged. But I’ve made pretty good use of it once I accepted it as a good thing. Here is a perfect example of my world.
You see this costume/dress/whatever?
Photo by Arthur Elgort
It’s one of the prettiest things I’ve ever seen in terms of color, texture, flow…I want to wear this thing. Where can one get away with wearing something like that if they haven’t done ballet since the age of eight? Where? In my dream world, that’s where. When I lie awake tonight trying to get to sleep, I’m going to imagine myself wearing that stupid wedding cake looking outfit to something special where people dress like that every single day. Kitty’s world. You in?
Drop Everything
Go vote. Right now. Vote the bastards out of office. Yeah, they probably have the electronic voting machines hacked, but hey, if you don’t vote, they don’t even have to steal it from you. How are we going to catch them if you didn’t give them something to steal?
Oh yeah, if you catch them doing anything sneaky at the polls, go here and rat ‘em out.
Eccentric Writing Must Haves
There are a few little things I need before throwing down the pages. I’m talking script pages. Not brainstorming. Those ideas can go on anything that takes ink; a receipt, a memo pad, the back of an envelope. I’m using an outline for this script, but I don’t look at it often.
For script pages everything has to be just right or it’s a no go. Here’s what I need besides the computer and screenwriting software (Final Draft).
1) At least the midnight hour.
2) Noise cancelling headphones.
3) Ipod loaded with music, music, music. I’ve been listening to a lot of metal for this screenplay.
4) Diet Dr. Pepper.
5) Ice from Sonic. Pellet shaped. Here’s a photo.
I write something every single day. Sometimes it is just a few words. Sometimes it is a few pages. It is hardly ever a ton of pages. I know someone who once wrote 75 script pages in one day. She’s a ninja screenwriter. She can fess up to it in comments if she wants.
Do you have any eccentric writing habits?
Cute Little Pirate
Here’s a photo of my cute little nephew from last week. An official trick-or-treater.
No doubt he raked in the candy. Thanks Capone for sending in this photo. Nice job on the costume.
“Teenagers (Scare the Living Shit out of Me)”
They’ll probably never play that one on the radio, it’s a hiliarious song on My Chemical Romance’s new CD, “The Black Parade”.
I like Gerard Way’s (lead singer) new look. He went from having long jet black hair to a platinum blonde crew cut. Having seen it before the release of Parade, my guess was the new music would be lighter than the usual. It is lighter, not lyrically, but it sounds kind of show-tune like. In a Rocky Horror sort of way. I like the new sound too. I get the feeling one day this will end up a Broadway show. Just a hunch.
Here’s the video: Teenagers.
Photo by Martin Schoeller for Blender
