I've done some stupid stuff. We all know this. It's kind of what makes me quirky and charming. No doubt it probably knocks several decades off my life expectancy, but let's just focus on quirky and charming.
I ran out of gas on my way home from class yesterday. This moment was a long time coming, since I generally don't put more than five dollars worth of gas in my car at a time, and the gas light is warning me on quite a consistent basis. But here's where the situation gets sticky...
I have to drive over a large hill (I don't know why everyone calls it a "hill," because for all intents and purposes, it's mountain-sized) every day. Going up the hill, when I'm on an incline, the gas light is always on, because of the way the gauge is set up in my tank. On the way downhill, the gauge always says I have more than I do. One may think that these variables are easy to take into consideration and work around, but believe me, sometimes laziness/stupidity will catch up with you. My incompetence came and bit me on the ass halfway up Laurel Canyon, when I finally ran out of gas. What do you do when you run out of gas? Pull over, obviously, but then what? I wanted to call someone and have them come help me, but I would have felt like a huge dumbass. Not like walking all the way over the hill to a gas station and explaining the situation would be any better, but at least the gas station attendant wouldn't make fun of me for the rest of my life like my friends would. If you work at a gas station, you're in no position to judge. Plus I could just mosey on in, smile, say that I've come to purchase some gasoline for my riding lawn mower, and no one's the wiser.
Walking up a mountain when it's 97 degrees out sucks. Yeah, some might say "well at least it's a dry heat!" To them, I say "Fuck you. It's still 97 degrees no matter how you slice it." It always looks so sexy in movies, when people's cars break down and they have to find the nearest service station for help. Toned bodies glisten with sweat in the sun, while miraculously we witness no pit stains or swamp ass.
I don't know what possessed me to do what I did next. Perhaps it was curiosity. Or maybe temporary insanity brought on by dehydration and chafed thighs. Could have been the fact that I feel safe anywhere I go in LA as long as I see a lot of nice cars around. Whatever the reason, I slowly lifted my left arm, held my hand up towards the road...and stuck my thumb out.
Don't worry. I lived to tell the tale. Not only that, but I got a free tank of gas, and had Mojitos with Andrea Barber. (IMDB her if you must.) It's really a fun story that I'll have to get around to telling one day.
Sunday, July 29, 2007
Friday, July 13, 2007
I wore black sneakers to my Grandpa's funeral
Now seems like as good of time as any to finally write this. Every time I thought the story was over, something else happened. It's epic, really.
I wasn't in a good mood last Tuesday. Not sure why, but I definitely had my grumpy pants on. I was tired and ornery, and decided to just go to bed early. So I did. I keep a picture of my grandparents on my desk, and I looked at it before I went to bed. Something felt off. Wrong.
I got the phone call at 5 am. My aunt was calling. I knew exactly what it was, but I let the phone ring. If she didn't call right back, then it wasn't anything too important, obviously.
She called right back.
My grandpa died that morning.
My first reaction wasn't shock. It wasn't disbelief. It wasn't tears. There really wasn't a first reaction. My aunt was crying, but I don't know if it was because I was so tired, or just had no idea how to react, but I just stayed quiet and calm. Of course, despite the fact that it was 5am, I couldn't go back to bed. Even if I could have gone back to sleep, it just would have felt wrong to. Like...I find out this terrible news and just go back to bed. I went into the living room and turned on the TV. I watched three episodes of Married With Children and finally fell asleep for a little while. That whole morning is just a blur of sleep and tears. I woke up again at 11 and couldn't believe it was so early. It felt like days had gone by since my aunt called, but it wasn't even lunch time.
Telling people was the hardest. I've never lost anyone before, so I'm just not sure what the appropriate behavior is. I decided sleeping all day was the best coping mechanism. Eventually I had to tell my roommates, which was the first time I had to say it out loud. It was hard.
To complicate matters, my grandma just had open-heart surgery the day before. She was doing well in recovery, but how do you tell her that her husband died when just had such an intense procedure? The worst part was probably coming to the realization that she wouldn't be able to go to Grandpa's funeral. We tried to work it out, but the funeral home couldn't hold on to him forever, and recovery from open surgery can take weeks, if not months. I went to work on Thursday, but about ten minutes into the day, I decided that I couldn't wait for the weekend to go home. I got online, bought tickets for the same flight Millie was flying home on (not having to fly back alone made a BIG difference to me), and by midnight, I was back in Detroit.
It was heartbreaking when we went to visit my grandma, because she still didn't know we were having the funeral without her. There was a lot of hostility within the family as to whether or not this was the right thing to do, but what was the alternative? In the end, she gave us her blessing to proceed with the funeral, and when she's feeling better, we'll have a memorial mass that she can attend.
So...the next few days were filled with typical bereavement. The hugs, the crying, the preparations, etc. Sunday was the first night of visitation at the funeral home. I wondered why they gave immediate family an hour before the rest of the people were invited, but it probably has something to do with how emotional everyone gets when you see the body for the first time. You want to be with your family, not trying to explain to your great aunt who you haven't seen since graduation how a person can get a degree in Television. I've never dealt with death before, so this was a new and most unsavory experience. The worst part was going through all of this while my grandma sat alone in a hospital room. She should have been there, and it hurt us all that she couldn't.
On Monday, we went to go visit Grandma before heading to the funeral home for more visiting. (Eight hours at a funeral home, is that normal? It shouldn't be. You really forget that you're even mourning when you're bored out of your mind and starving). I should also mention that the funeral was held in Bad Axe, Michigan. A very small farm community in the Thumb of the state. They are a different breed up there. They don't drive fancy cars and eat at expensive restaurant. They're simple folk, just as you'd expect a farmer to be.
Which is why I wore black sneakers to my Grandpa's funeral.
On the way to the hospital, we got a phone call that my other grandpa, my mom's dad, had a stroke, and that we should prepare for the worst. After the funeral, I went to see my Grandma one more time, before going back to Novi and seeing my other grandpa. When I said goodbye to him, I knew it was the last time, because at this point we all knew he wasn't going to make it much longer. Despite this, I still flew back to LA. What could I do in Michigan? Sit and wait for him to die? I just buried one of my grandparents. I needed a break. I needed to get back to normal, even if it meant flying back to Michigan a few days later.
Sure enough, I got that phone call on Saturday night. Grandpa B had passed. Time to go back home. This time I didn't take a whole week off. I just couldn't. I came home for two days, just for the funeral and burial. I don't know why, but this time around I wasn't as emotional. I think I was emotionally drained. I didn't have it in me anymore to grieve. Of course, that all changed at the funeral. I was fine for the most of it, but then came the part where all of the grandkids took up a rose and put it in a vase. There we were, all 18 of his grandkids, each one sobbing more than the cousin in front of them. My grandma was crying too, as was everyone else in church, as we all put our pink roses in the vase. At the end of the service, my aunt went up front and asked that we pray for the other relatives we have lost as well, and she mentioned my other grandpa. That's when it really hit me. The funerals were only a week apart. Grandpa Balagna died 10 days after Grandpa Ochoa.
Both were military burials, which I think are 100 times harder than a normal one because they play "Taps" and hand the folded flag to a family member.
It was a rough few weeks, that's for sure. But now I'm back in California, kind of employed, and moving on. Both of my grandfathers were sarcastic, funny, and loved to crack wise, and I know that's where I get it from. They lived long, happy lives, and it was just their time to go. The following poem was on the back of the prayer cards at both of their funerals. And yes, it still hurts when I have to say "both."
God saw that you were getting tired
And a cure was not to be,
So he put his arms around you
and whispered come with me.
With tearful eyes we watched you
and saw you fade away,
Although we love you dearly,
we could not make you stay.
A golden heart stopped beating,
hardworking hands at rest.
God broke our hearts to prove to us -
He only takes the best.
I wasn't in a good mood last Tuesday. Not sure why, but I definitely had my grumpy pants on. I was tired and ornery, and decided to just go to bed early. So I did. I keep a picture of my grandparents on my desk, and I looked at it before I went to bed. Something felt off. Wrong.
I got the phone call at 5 am. My aunt was calling. I knew exactly what it was, but I let the phone ring. If she didn't call right back, then it wasn't anything too important, obviously.
She called right back.
My grandpa died that morning.
My first reaction wasn't shock. It wasn't disbelief. It wasn't tears. There really wasn't a first reaction. My aunt was crying, but I don't know if it was because I was so tired, or just had no idea how to react, but I just stayed quiet and calm. Of course, despite the fact that it was 5am, I couldn't go back to bed. Even if I could have gone back to sleep, it just would have felt wrong to. Like...I find out this terrible news and just go back to bed. I went into the living room and turned on the TV. I watched three episodes of Married With Children and finally fell asleep for a little while. That whole morning is just a blur of sleep and tears. I woke up again at 11 and couldn't believe it was so early. It felt like days had gone by since my aunt called, but it wasn't even lunch time.
Telling people was the hardest. I've never lost anyone before, so I'm just not sure what the appropriate behavior is. I decided sleeping all day was the best coping mechanism. Eventually I had to tell my roommates, which was the first time I had to say it out loud. It was hard.
To complicate matters, my grandma just had open-heart surgery the day before. She was doing well in recovery, but how do you tell her that her husband died when just had such an intense procedure? The worst part was probably coming to the realization that she wouldn't be able to go to Grandpa's funeral. We tried to work it out, but the funeral home couldn't hold on to him forever, and recovery from open surgery can take weeks, if not months. I went to work on Thursday, but about ten minutes into the day, I decided that I couldn't wait for the weekend to go home. I got online, bought tickets for the same flight Millie was flying home on (not having to fly back alone made a BIG difference to me), and by midnight, I was back in Detroit.
It was heartbreaking when we went to visit my grandma, because she still didn't know we were having the funeral without her. There was a lot of hostility within the family as to whether or not this was the right thing to do, but what was the alternative? In the end, she gave us her blessing to proceed with the funeral, and when she's feeling better, we'll have a memorial mass that she can attend.
So...the next few days were filled with typical bereavement. The hugs, the crying, the preparations, etc. Sunday was the first night of visitation at the funeral home. I wondered why they gave immediate family an hour before the rest of the people were invited, but it probably has something to do with how emotional everyone gets when you see the body for the first time. You want to be with your family, not trying to explain to your great aunt who you haven't seen since graduation how a person can get a degree in Television. I've never dealt with death before, so this was a new and most unsavory experience. The worst part was going through all of this while my grandma sat alone in a hospital room. She should have been there, and it hurt us all that she couldn't.
On Monday, we went to go visit Grandma before heading to the funeral home for more visiting. (Eight hours at a funeral home, is that normal? It shouldn't be. You really forget that you're even mourning when you're bored out of your mind and starving). I should also mention that the funeral was held in Bad Axe, Michigan. A very small farm community in the Thumb of the state. They are a different breed up there. They don't drive fancy cars and eat at expensive restaurant. They're simple folk, just as you'd expect a farmer to be.
Which is why I wore black sneakers to my Grandpa's funeral.
On the way to the hospital, we got a phone call that my other grandpa, my mom's dad, had a stroke, and that we should prepare for the worst. After the funeral, I went to see my Grandma one more time, before going back to Novi and seeing my other grandpa. When I said goodbye to him, I knew it was the last time, because at this point we all knew he wasn't going to make it much longer. Despite this, I still flew back to LA. What could I do in Michigan? Sit and wait for him to die? I just buried one of my grandparents. I needed a break. I needed to get back to normal, even if it meant flying back to Michigan a few days later.
Sure enough, I got that phone call on Saturday night. Grandpa B had passed. Time to go back home. This time I didn't take a whole week off. I just couldn't. I came home for two days, just for the funeral and burial. I don't know why, but this time around I wasn't as emotional. I think I was emotionally drained. I didn't have it in me anymore to grieve. Of course, that all changed at the funeral. I was fine for the most of it, but then came the part where all of the grandkids took up a rose and put it in a vase. There we were, all 18 of his grandkids, each one sobbing more than the cousin in front of them. My grandma was crying too, as was everyone else in church, as we all put our pink roses in the vase. At the end of the service, my aunt went up front and asked that we pray for the other relatives we have lost as well, and she mentioned my other grandpa. That's when it really hit me. The funerals were only a week apart. Grandpa Balagna died 10 days after Grandpa Ochoa.
Both were military burials, which I think are 100 times harder than a normal one because they play "Taps" and hand the folded flag to a family member.
It was a rough few weeks, that's for sure. But now I'm back in California, kind of employed, and moving on. Both of my grandfathers were sarcastic, funny, and loved to crack wise, and I know that's where I get it from. They lived long, happy lives, and it was just their time to go. The following poem was on the back of the prayer cards at both of their funerals. And yes, it still hurts when I have to say "both."
God saw that you were getting tired
And a cure was not to be,
So he put his arms around you
and whispered come with me.
With tearful eyes we watched you
and saw you fade away,
Although we love you dearly,
we could not make you stay.
A golden heart stopped beating,
hardworking hands at rest.
God broke our hearts to prove to us -
He only takes the best.
Tuesday, July 03, 2007
I'd LOVE to pay my own rent.
I had a life shattering crisis last week and Mike basically had to put me on suicide watch, but I'm better now. The stress of job searching got the better of me, I suppose. I'm well aware of the fact that in this industry I have to start at the bottom and work my way up, but if I want to write and do improv, then what the hell is the point in taking a job that gives me no time for writing and comedy?
I got a call for a job I really want. This happened Friday. I was away from my desk, and as soon as I got the message, I called the lady back. No answer. Called all day yesterday. No answer. Today? No answer. Perhaps she is out of the office because of the holiday? Let's hope.
I also interviewed at Deal or No Deal, but haven't heard back. I would take the job if I got it, but I'm not going to cry if I don't. Also got a call from a new crossword puzzle game show. Finding a job can take time, and considering the leads and interviews I've gotten in only a few weeks, things are going pretty damn well. However, I'm also broke and need to start working. And I need insurance. I've seriously considered quitting both internships and getting a random job just to make money, but I want to continue my ties at Weinstein, especially with my wonderful boss who is responsible for most of the interviews I've gotten. I'll work a few days a week at Weinstein, quit Offspring, and get a part time job for Thurs-Sun.
Mille and Jeff came this weekend! It was lots of fun. Friday night we went to this awesome little bar in Los Feliz and met our friend Maggie. Saturday I had improv (passed! Got accepted to the next level!) and then we went to a cemetery screening. It's pretty much the coolest thing ever. They play movies on a huge screen, similar to Grant Park, only it's in the Hollywood Forever cemetery. The movie was Roman Holiday. Dani would have LOVED the whole experience.
Sunday was DISNEYLAND!!!!!! Tons of fun. Lots of pictures. We rode everything twice. Except for Finding Nemo, which was far too long of a wait. I wouldn't stand in line for 2 hours to go on a real submarine, so I sure as shit won't do it for a pretend one that doesn't even fully submerge. While we were waiting in line for Indiana Jones (my all time favorite Disney ride at any park ever), some small creature flew into my face. I kinda freaked out, you know, since something flew into my face. It then fell down my chest and got stuck in my shirt. And do you wanna know what it was???
A baby bird. An adorable little chirping birdie.
The people around me in line were pissed that I swatted at it. But I didn't know it was a baby bird! If some strange flying creature flew into your fave, what would you do?
Jeff is gone. Millie is here till Thursday. I'm back at work. It's dead today because every other studio and production company has a half day, so I'm just chillin.
Still no internet at home. Hence, no blogs ever.
I got a call for a job I really want. This happened Friday. I was away from my desk, and as soon as I got the message, I called the lady back. No answer. Called all day yesterday. No answer. Today? No answer. Perhaps she is out of the office because of the holiday? Let's hope.
I also interviewed at Deal or No Deal, but haven't heard back. I would take the job if I got it, but I'm not going to cry if I don't. Also got a call from a new crossword puzzle game show. Finding a job can take time, and considering the leads and interviews I've gotten in only a few weeks, things are going pretty damn well. However, I'm also broke and need to start working. And I need insurance. I've seriously considered quitting both internships and getting a random job just to make money, but I want to continue my ties at Weinstein, especially with my wonderful boss who is responsible for most of the interviews I've gotten. I'll work a few days a week at Weinstein, quit Offspring, and get a part time job for Thurs-Sun.
Mille and Jeff came this weekend! It was lots of fun. Friday night we went to this awesome little bar in Los Feliz and met our friend Maggie. Saturday I had improv (passed! Got accepted to the next level!) and then we went to a cemetery screening. It's pretty much the coolest thing ever. They play movies on a huge screen, similar to Grant Park, only it's in the Hollywood Forever cemetery. The movie was Roman Holiday. Dani would have LOVED the whole experience.
Sunday was DISNEYLAND!!!!!! Tons of fun. Lots of pictures. We rode everything twice. Except for Finding Nemo, which was far too long of a wait. I wouldn't stand in line for 2 hours to go on a real submarine, so I sure as shit won't do it for a pretend one that doesn't even fully submerge. While we were waiting in line for Indiana Jones (my all time favorite Disney ride at any park ever), some small creature flew into my face. I kinda freaked out, you know, since something flew into my face. It then fell down my chest and got stuck in my shirt. And do you wanna know what it was???
A baby bird. An adorable little chirping birdie.
The people around me in line were pissed that I swatted at it. But I didn't know it was a baby bird! If some strange flying creature flew into your fave, what would you do?
Jeff is gone. Millie is here till Thursday. I'm back at work. It's dead today because every other studio and production company has a half day, so I'm just chillin.
Still no internet at home. Hence, no blogs ever.
Friday, June 22, 2007
Quickly
-In the grand tradition of cable companies being absolute fuck-ups, we won't have cable/internet for quite some time, and I don't have time at work to go blogging.
-Had an interview today to be the production assistant on an actual TV show. A real one. On ABC.
-Got asked today to be the temporary replacement for the assistant to two execs at Dimension Films. Take my word for it, this is a GOOD thing.
-Computer broke.
-5 days left on computer warranty. Thank GOD.
-Moved to Studio City.
-I actually might have a job soon.
-Had an interview today to be the production assistant on an actual TV show. A real one. On ABC.
-Got asked today to be the temporary replacement for the assistant to two execs at Dimension Films. Take my word for it, this is a GOOD thing.
-Computer broke.
-5 days left on computer warranty. Thank GOD.
-Moved to Studio City.
-I actually might have a job soon.
Saturday, June 09, 2007
I'm mooooooooving
The other day I went to McCambridge park and I took my notebook and some reading material. I read some of Slaughterhouse Five, The Little Mermaid by Hans Christian Anderson (for a creative and professional reason, trust me), and then I pulled out my black-cover-red-star notebook that I take with me everywhere in hopes to maintain an appearance of introspectiveness. There's somewhat of a poetic irony in the fact that I go through these lengths to look pensively self-reflective only because I want to appear that way in front of others. Regardless, none of this matters because I feel like I'm rarely actually writing in that book anyway. It's an awesome book, though.
So I pulled out the "LOOK! I'm a writer!!!" book and before I knew it, I had written four full pages. I read it back and it's actually pretty funny. I want to post it in here, but I've never gotten around to it. I was going to do it right now, but it turns out that I already took that book over to the new apartment. I'm not quite sure why I've already started the "process" of moving into the new place. Especially since the "process" is putting all thirteen of my personal effects into the Focus and driving eight miles west. Whatever the reason-
Okay, fuck that. I have a feeling people would rather I talk about the new apartment, as opposed to what I wrote in my journal that I left at said apartment.
It's in Studio City. It's nice. It's a three bedroom with a balcony. The front door is a sliding glass door, but you learn to love it. I just realized we have no fridge, but we each pay $600 a month to live in Studio City so I'm not about to complain if I have to pay for a third of a miniature dorm fridge. We have a pool. It's clean looking. The lounge chairs are decidedly less pristine.
Now that the apartment situation is taken care of (well, HAVING an apartment is taking care of. Filling it with a bed, furniture, fridge, microwave, television, and everything else that apartments need is another issue entirely), I can focus on other things. Namely, job hunting. Karen has said many times she is going to help me get a job. She said last week that she's been putting her feelers out to see what the word on the street is. That's a metaphor, just so you know. She doesn't have real feelers. Well...do hand count? "I'm putting my hands out to find you a job." See, that just doesn't conjur the same vivid imagery. Either way, she said at the end of the month we're gonna sit down and have a serious talk about what it is I want to do and she's going to start really getting serious about finding me employment. So, anyone who always asls me, "Your boss says she's going to find you a job, but is she really?" It looks like she's the real deal.
I love improv class. I'm telling you right now, if I get a job that gets in the way of taking the next course at Groundlings, I'm seriously going to have to reconsider the offer. I look forward to every Saturday just like we used to look forward to weekends in middle school. I say middle school because by the time we hit high school, weekends don't matter because we'll just skip if we don't feel like going. I could go on and on about how much I love class and the stuff we do, but I don't think it makes for a good read. Also, if I say "I want to finish taking all the classes, be part of one of their stage shows, get an agent and become an actor/writer!" I'll feel incredibly stupid five years from now when I'm assistant manager at California Pizza Kitchen and decide to go back and read some of my old entries. I will say this, though. There's an old guy in my class who just informed me that every week he writes down the funny things I say in his notebook. I find that...odd. I'm also scared to mention this incident because it's quite possible that he has googled me and reads this blog.
So I pulled out the "LOOK! I'm a writer!!!" book and before I knew it, I had written four full pages. I read it back and it's actually pretty funny. I want to post it in here, but I've never gotten around to it. I was going to do it right now, but it turns out that I already took that book over to the new apartment. I'm not quite sure why I've already started the "process" of moving into the new place. Especially since the "process" is putting all thirteen of my personal effects into the Focus and driving eight miles west. Whatever the reason-
Okay, fuck that. I have a feeling people would rather I talk about the new apartment, as opposed to what I wrote in my journal that I left at said apartment.
It's in Studio City. It's nice. It's a three bedroom with a balcony. The front door is a sliding glass door, but you learn to love it. I just realized we have no fridge, but we each pay $600 a month to live in Studio City so I'm not about to complain if I have to pay for a third of a miniature dorm fridge. We have a pool. It's clean looking. The lounge chairs are decidedly less pristine.
Now that the apartment situation is taken care of (well, HAVING an apartment is taking care of. Filling it with a bed, furniture, fridge, microwave, television, and everything else that apartments need is another issue entirely), I can focus on other things. Namely, job hunting. Karen has said many times she is going to help me get a job. She said last week that she's been putting her feelers out to see what the word on the street is. That's a metaphor, just so you know. She doesn't have real feelers. Well...do hand count? "I'm putting my hands out to find you a job." See, that just doesn't conjur the same vivid imagery. Either way, she said at the end of the month we're gonna sit down and have a serious talk about what it is I want to do and she's going to start really getting serious about finding me employment. So, anyone who always asls me, "Your boss says she's going to find you a job, but is she really?" It looks like she's the real deal.
I love improv class. I'm telling you right now, if I get a job that gets in the way of taking the next course at Groundlings, I'm seriously going to have to reconsider the offer. I look forward to every Saturday just like we used to look forward to weekends in middle school. I say middle school because by the time we hit high school, weekends don't matter because we'll just skip if we don't feel like going. I could go on and on about how much I love class and the stuff we do, but I don't think it makes for a good read. Also, if I say "I want to finish taking all the classes, be part of one of their stage shows, get an agent and become an actor/writer!" I'll feel incredibly stupid five years from now when I'm assistant manager at California Pizza Kitchen and decide to go back and read some of my old entries. I will say this, though. There's an old guy in my class who just informed me that every week he writes down the funny things I say in his notebook. I find that...odd. I'm also scared to mention this incident because it's quite possible that he has googled me and reads this blog.
You're so unfunny it's not even funny.
Someone commented on my Disney chapter. Most people really seemed to enjoy part 1, but this particular reader took issue with some of my hot topics. Here are some of the best excerpts.
"...you do know EXACTLY what you would be doing. Being in QSR at the Magic Kingdom is the same as being in QSR at Port Orleans. Being in Merch at Epcot is the same as being in merch at the Contemporary.
You know more than you think. You are told everything you need."
I'm sorry, person-who-loves-Disney-so-much-that-they-scour-the-internet-and-read-random-blogs-about-it-and-feel-the-need-to-be-
defensive-after-reading-what-is-clearly-a-comedic-essay-in-which-you-completely-miss-the-point. Is it alright if I call you person-who-loves-Disney-so-much-that-they-scour-the-internet-and-read-random-blogs-about-it-and-feel-the-need-to-be-
defensive-after-reading-what-is-clearly-a-comedic-essay-in-which-you-completely-miss-the-point? First of all, it's a comedic essay. And you completely missed the point. Second of all, I don't care.
"You are told everything you need."
That's my FAVORITE quote. Kara will back me up here when I say that "You are told everything you need" is EXACTLY the kind of shit that Disney feeds you.
Good luck and I hope your attitude improves or you won't make it on the program.
Yeah, thanks for that, person-who-loves-Disney-so-much-that-they-scour-the-internet-and-read-random-blogs-about-it-and-feel-the-need-to-be-
defensive-after-reading-what-is-clearly-a-comedic-essay-in-which-you-completely-miss-the-point. But actually. I finished the program. Three years ago, as a matter of fact. And I can assure you, my attitude never changed.
"...you do know EXACTLY what you would be doing. Being in QSR at the Magic Kingdom is the same as being in QSR at Port Orleans. Being in Merch at Epcot is the same as being in merch at the Contemporary.
You know more than you think. You are told everything you need."
I'm sorry, person-who-loves-Disney-so-much-that-they-scour-the-internet-and-read-random-blogs-about-it-and-feel-the-need-to-be-
defensive-after-reading-what-is-clearly-a-comedic-essay-in-which-you-completely-miss-the-point. Is it alright if I call you person-who-loves-Disney-so-much-that-they-scour-the-internet-and-read-random-blogs-about-it-and-feel-the-need-to-be-
defensive-after-reading-what-is-clearly-a-comedic-essay-in-which-you-completely-miss-the-point? First of all, it's a comedic essay. And you completely missed the point. Second of all, I don't care.
"You are told everything you need."
That's my FAVORITE quote. Kara will back me up here when I say that "You are told everything you need" is EXACTLY the kind of shit that Disney feeds you.
Good luck and I hope your attitude improves or you won't make it on the program.
Yeah, thanks for that, person-who-loves-Disney-so-much-that-they-scour-the-internet-and-read-random-blogs-about-it-and-feel-the-need-to-be-
defensive-after-reading-what-is-clearly-a-comedic-essay-in-which-you-completely-miss-the-point. But actually. I finished the program. Three years ago, as a matter of fact. And I can assure you, my attitude never changed.
Tuesday, May 29, 2007
Life in LA, a summer checklist, etc.
Things I want/need to get done now that it's summer.
Oh...wait.
I'm a real person now.
I don't have vacay.
I don't hours upon hours of freetime to play outside and hang out and do whatever I please.
The rest of my life is now an endless cycle of living for the weekend.
Well...regardless. Here's my list.
-Write a spec script of 30 Rock
-Write Leper High (it's a feature length script now. My boss at Weinstein told me she'd go over it for me)
-Find an apartment (pretty hard seeing as how I need to move June 15th and every place I see is available either June 1st, July 1st, or now. So my best bet is to wait until later in the month and get one that says "available now," later.)
-Find a job. I've been sending out my resume and making a few calls, but I still have a month to go at Weinstein, so I'm not too concerned. Plus I know at least one of my bosses will help me out with this. Hey...maybe even both.
-Do more comedy. Once Flavin and other friends are out here, I plan on doing an open mic night at a comedy club.
-Get an oil change.
-Buy actual groceries and stop eating turkey sandwiches every day (once I get a job)
That seems good enough.
Life in LA is alright. I feel like this house in Burbank is sucking the life out of me. I have nothing to do any no one to talk to. I rarely feel like running or writing, which are like... my two main things. Hopefully things will change when I have my own place. Basically, my quality of life will improve once I have a TV again.
I'm too ambitious. I don't know if that's coming off as a cocky thing to say...but it's true. I drive myself crazy. I'm always worried that I'm missing out on some opportunity I don't know about, and so I am constantly obsessing over my future. Working in this industry isn't a cut and dry sort of thing. You don't start at the bottom and work your way up to writer. Since there's no clear line of promotions and job progression, there are far too many opportunities and choices for someone like me. Do I want to try to be a PA? Or work at an Agency? Or something else? I'd love to be a writer's assistant, but those are pretty hard jobs to get, so unless either of my bosses can pull some strings...I'm not holding my breath.
Do I even want to work in the industry? Is TV really my livelihood?
Answer: No. It's not. I'm starting to wonder if it ever was. I really just want to be funny. That's why I love Groundlings so much. As much as I'd love to get a job as a writer on a sitcom, I'd be even more thrilled to finish studying Improv and be a part of a troupe. Even if it doesn't pay that well. But acting and improv isn't going to pay my bills, and chances are if it ever does, that time will not be soon. Working in TV and trying to make something of myself in that capacity is a good way to pay the bills and make connections, so that one day I can get paid to be funny, whether writing or performing.
This post is dedicated to Twigger. I didn't feel like blogging, but she wanted to know how my life was. She's a sweetheart, even if she can be a pistol sometimes.
Aunt Betty
Oh...wait.
I'm a real person now.
I don't have vacay.
I don't hours upon hours of freetime to play outside and hang out and do whatever I please.
The rest of my life is now an endless cycle of living for the weekend.
Well...regardless. Here's my list.
-Write a spec script of 30 Rock
-Write Leper High (it's a feature length script now. My boss at Weinstein told me she'd go over it for me)
-Find an apartment (pretty hard seeing as how I need to move June 15th and every place I see is available either June 1st, July 1st, or now. So my best bet is to wait until later in the month and get one that says "available now," later.)
-Find a job. I've been sending out my resume and making a few calls, but I still have a month to go at Weinstein, so I'm not too concerned. Plus I know at least one of my bosses will help me out with this. Hey...maybe even both.
-Do more comedy. Once Flavin and other friends are out here, I plan on doing an open mic night at a comedy club.
-Get an oil change.
-Buy actual groceries and stop eating turkey sandwiches every day (once I get a job)
That seems good enough.
Life in LA is alright. I feel like this house in Burbank is sucking the life out of me. I have nothing to do any no one to talk to. I rarely feel like running or writing, which are like... my two main things. Hopefully things will change when I have my own place. Basically, my quality of life will improve once I have a TV again.
I'm too ambitious. I don't know if that's coming off as a cocky thing to say...but it's true. I drive myself crazy. I'm always worried that I'm missing out on some opportunity I don't know about, and so I am constantly obsessing over my future. Working in this industry isn't a cut and dry sort of thing. You don't start at the bottom and work your way up to writer. Since there's no clear line of promotions and job progression, there are far too many opportunities and choices for someone like me. Do I want to try to be a PA? Or work at an Agency? Or something else? I'd love to be a writer's assistant, but those are pretty hard jobs to get, so unless either of my bosses can pull some strings...I'm not holding my breath.
Do I even want to work in the industry? Is TV really my livelihood?
Answer: No. It's not. I'm starting to wonder if it ever was. I really just want to be funny. That's why I love Groundlings so much. As much as I'd love to get a job as a writer on a sitcom, I'd be even more thrilled to finish studying Improv and be a part of a troupe. Even if it doesn't pay that well. But acting and improv isn't going to pay my bills, and chances are if it ever does, that time will not be soon. Working in TV and trying to make something of myself in that capacity is a good way to pay the bills and make connections, so that one day I can get paid to be funny, whether writing or performing.
This post is dedicated to Twigger. I didn't feel like blogging, but she wanted to know how my life was. She's a sweetheart, even if she can be a pistol sometimes.
Aunt Betty
Thursday, May 24, 2007
Thursday, May 10, 2007
And that's how I finish college
Now, it was never a secret that I didn't exactly put forth A+ effort in my online class. Even now that it's over, I still couldn't tell you what the name of it was. (Some combination of the words "Biology, Human, and Anatomy). In fact, I'm not even exaggerating when I say that I spent more time deciding on what flavor Pop-Tarts to buy each week, than I did studying, doing assignments, or even taking tests. Case in point, tonight was the final night that the final exam was available. It's quite an inconvenience that even though we are supposed to have until midnight to take these things, I only had until 10 pm because of the time change, but I won't complain. So here I am. It's 8:30, I'm still dicking around looking at apartments and chatting on AIM, when I finally decide that this 24 page, 134 question final isn't going to half-ass itself. So I sign on, answer a few questions, and I just think to myself..."I hate this and don't want to do it."
Sure, online tests are super easy because you can read your notes and check Wikipedia.
Sure, I still had an hour and a half to do it.
Sure, I want to impress my mom.
But, well, FUCK ALL OF THAT. It was my last college final ever, and I couldn't have given a shit even if I tried. So, I did what any self-respecting soon-to-be-art-school-graduate would do. I answered D for everything. Judging by the fact that I was even getting frustrated with how long it took me to take the final when all I was doing was checking in the D box, it would be safe to assume that had I even tried to answer the questions, I would have been in a most unsavory mood.
So that's that. Sure, I don't graduate until Saturday, and I'm still interning full-time until the end of June (suuuuck), but I'm basically, almost, somewhat, maybe done with college? Now whenever I watch TV shows or movies about kids in school, I can silently think to myself "Haha, those suckers." I don't think the fact that I am a full-fledged member of the real world will hit me until I'm done at Weinstein and Offspring, though. Once I'm not working 45 hours a week for free, I'll stop considering myself a college student.
On another note, and a VERY VERY exciting one at that, I am going in for a "preliminary interview and meet & greet" with the writer's assistants for an actual TV show. This is me exercising discretion and not posting all sorts of shit that shouldn't be on the internet for all the world to see. Suffice it to say, it's a scripted show, it's on cable, and some of you may have heard of it. I'm REALLY excited because a job as a writer's assistant is NOT easy to come by. If I could actually get one...well...wow. I've been so lucky with everything since I got out here. Sometimes I can't believe it myself. I mean, do I really deserve such awesome things?
We'll see how this all pans out. If anything, I intend to at least knock everyone's socks off so that even if this show isn't hiring, they all remember me and love me and find another program for me to work on.
Oh, and I met Rosario Dawson today. That didn't seem like it needed to be kept secret.
Sure, online tests are super easy because you can read your notes and check Wikipedia.
Sure, I still had an hour and a half to do it.
Sure, I want to impress my mom.
But, well, FUCK ALL OF THAT. It was my last college final ever, and I couldn't have given a shit even if I tried. So, I did what any self-respecting soon-to-be-art-school-graduate would do. I answered D for everything. Judging by the fact that I was even getting frustrated with how long it took me to take the final when all I was doing was checking in the D box, it would be safe to assume that had I even tried to answer the questions, I would have been in a most unsavory mood.
So that's that. Sure, I don't graduate until Saturday, and I'm still interning full-time until the end of June (suuuuck), but I'm basically, almost, somewhat, maybe done with college? Now whenever I watch TV shows or movies about kids in school, I can silently think to myself "Haha, those suckers." I don't think the fact that I am a full-fledged member of the real world will hit me until I'm done at Weinstein and Offspring, though. Once I'm not working 45 hours a week for free, I'll stop considering myself a college student.
On another note, and a VERY VERY exciting one at that, I am going in for a "preliminary interview and meet & greet" with the writer's assistants for an actual TV show. This is me exercising discretion and not posting all sorts of shit that shouldn't be on the internet for all the world to see. Suffice it to say, it's a scripted show, it's on cable, and some of you may have heard of it. I'm REALLY excited because a job as a writer's assistant is NOT easy to come by. If I could actually get one...well...wow. I've been so lucky with everything since I got out here. Sometimes I can't believe it myself. I mean, do I really deserve such awesome things?
We'll see how this all pans out. If anything, I intend to at least knock everyone's socks off so that even if this show isn't hiring, they all remember me and love me and find another program for me to work on.
Oh, and I met Rosario Dawson today. That didn't seem like it needed to be kept secret.
Wednesday, May 09, 2007
Sunday, April 29, 2007
200 BLOGS!!
This is it! The big 200! I probably wouldn't have updated so soon after Chapter 11, but then I realized that I was at 200 and I had to do SOMETHING.
So, to celebrate 200 blogs, I've compiled some highlights. It's like one of those episodes of Everybody Loves Raymond where the writers ran out of ideas and the actors wanted to go home early, so instead of actually make an episode they just showed a bunch of clips from previous episodes.
September 20th, 2005
On an unrelated but equally relevant topic, I got an interview to work on the Jerry Springer Show. Isn't that funny? A little over a year ago I was making magic at Disney World, now I'll be working with trailer trash and mexican midgets. Well...maybe the difference between Disney and Springer isn't as big as one would think after all...
October 15th, 2005
Haha. Classy awards. In our little group, whoever does the most ridiculous things when they are drunk recieve the Classy award for the week. The first time I won was because I was still drunk at noon without ever going to bed. The second time was for not only swallowing Ashley's gum, but for drinking a 40 in plain sight on the train. Ohhh college.
November 13th, 2005
HAPPY 200th JESS! HERE'S TO 200 MORE!
I am, of course, referring to how many pounds Jess Dangles has lost since going on the South Beach diet! At this rate she might even be able to get out of bed by Christmas!
January 3rd, 2006
Maggie ate bologna off the floor and Jacob went psycho crazy and ate everything and anything. In our second adventure, Maggie took the bag from a box of wine, put it in her purse, and named it Super Tati. We shared stories about salad bars, mandarin oranges, and bringing home the bacon, all in reference to someone's vagina.
February 17th, 2006
Well it seems everyone was on top of their game last night. Steph and Libby made out like 3 times. Jess and I gave eachother hickies in the recliner while she played Kelly Clarkson repeatedly and sang along. Everyone else locked themselves in Ashleys bedroom. Then there's the "formal" that I'm not even going to say anything about. I could go on and on, but that's not cool because my good friends are putting it on and I will be respectful. I hope everyone who goes has fun, but I must politely decline my invitation. Thanks, but no thanks.
February 21st, 2006
April 22nd, 2006
Is it really April 22? Seriously? No. It can't be. HP must have programmed the calender function of my computer wrong. RandomHouse has made a mistake in my tear-a-page calender. April. 22. Hardly. Just a few weeks ago I was oling up my face and hair to dress like a mechanic, in our bathroom that was covered in blood from Matt's costume. And how long ago did Jess give me the bacon tape for Christmas? Couldn't have been that long. Wasn't Dani sitting on my floor cutting out paper shapes while I played X-Men Legends II right after that?
May 20th, 2006
It was a good birthday. Jeff and Matt bought me an M&M's ice cream cake.
July 11th. 2006
Jess and I really should have a babysitter. Because we are children. We talk like children and we act like children. And alcohol only exacerbates this tendency. Perhaps I should mention the picture we took of putting our heads in the oven. Or the somersaults off of her brothers bed. Or rapping to 50 Cent and L'il Kim's "Magic Stick" at least 50 times. And let's not forget the mad libs. Walking over to her place, I knew that drunk mad libs with Dangles was going to be the icing on the cake. Unfortunately, due to the extreme amount of disgusting, volatile, racist, crude, and utterly filthy language we chose to use in said mad libs, I don't feel that this is a good place to post them.
August 8th, 2006
The most memorable OL experience so far definitely has to be when Jacob, Cam, Millie, and I watched Final Destination 3. Holy shit, what an evening that turned out to be. If you don't know why, then I guess you'll have to just wonder. It was bucknutty, to say the least. Lollapalooza was awesome. I was wondering if I would have as good of a time this year as I did last year. I most definitely did. even though I wasn't nearly as excited about the line-up, there were tons of bands that blew me away.
September 16th, 2006
Thanks to Baggy, and the fact that I happened to be friends with his new boss, I managed to snag a job as an office assistant at Student Affairs. It's pretty laid back and there's even time to do homework, so it's hard to complain about the work situation.
October 31st, 2006
Highlights-
-Jess Dangles spanking me with her whip and yelling "This is what slavery is like!"
-Maggie doing yoga in the middle of a party
-Elroy humping Wenda
-Going up to every single person I encountered that night and saying "I didn't know you were coming tonight!" over and over and over.
-Stealing a pumpkin decoration from Clark's
-Kicking a hole in someone's iPod costume
-Finding a Spiderman mask and telling Maggie to put it on. She did.
-This:
I REFUSED to get off of that tire until somebody took my picture. Luckily Kate jumped up and joined me, otherwise this moment would have been long forgotten.
-Stepping on a girls foot and getting punched
-Getting inexplicably mad at someone dressed as the game Twister and telling everyone at the burrito place how much they sucked
-Trying to piss off every stranger I met
-Giving the Mexican guy at the burrito place 20 dollars for change and him walking away, then coming back acting like I never gave him a 20.
-Shielding Maggie while she pee'd in a doorway right on the corner of Halsted and Belmont -The plethora of stupid things we did but I will never remember.
January 1st, 2007
Happy New Year! Jesus take the wheel!
January 12th, 2007
The run.
It's weird that everything I've been working on for the past four months is over. The entire trip to Disney was incredible. I had an absolutely amazing time. It was the single most rewarding experience of my life, and hopefully I can convince at least one other person to do it next year. (No, not just go to Florida, but raise the money and train. If I can find the time, anyone can.)
January 30th, 2007
Things I hate at the moment:
Being sick because of the incident on Friday in which I had to make sure drunk Kara got home safe, as she continued to fall down, get in cars with strangers, piss people off, make out with old men, and or just plain refuse to keep walking. It was not unlike The Canterbury Tales.
February 12th, 2007
I’m excited to be moving on with my life and to try new things. I’m finally going to pursue what I’ve wanted to do all my life, and it’s exciting. I wish everyone actually could come with. In a physical sense, not just some cheesy sentimental blog post way. But at the same time, I love the fact that I have friends all over the world. And I know that all the people who are important to me will not be leaving my life any time soon.
March 4th, 2007
I'm really enjoying myself out here. A lot. I know that a lot of that has to do with the fact that it's barely been a week and I'm still in the honeymoon phase, and that soon the novelty of going to class at CBS Studios will wear off and I'll start to miss Chicago and everyone back there. And I'll of course find ways to make myself miserable like always. I have friends out here, which is good. I saw Rob last night, and I'm friends with the neighbors and with a bunch of people from class, but I just don't see myself meeting another group like the gang back in Chicago. Don't cry for me, though. I'm having the time of my life.
April 13th, 2007
I just want to reiterate the fact that I hate LA and I'm miserable. Not because I want sympathy. Not because I want to go home. Not because I'm lying. But because I want to look back on this part of my life in five years, whether I'm still in California and loving it, or back in Chicago, or selling tea-cozies made out of horse fur in Shipshewana, and remember how much I hate life right now. Because then I'll think to myself "Well, I'm so happy with where I am today, and I know that I'm a better, stronger, and faster(rule of three, every comic's best friend) because of hitting that low point.
So, to celebrate 200 blogs, I've compiled some highlights. It's like one of those episodes of Everybody Loves Raymond where the writers ran out of ideas and the actors wanted to go home early, so instead of actually make an episode they just showed a bunch of clips from previous episodes.
September 20th, 2005
On an unrelated but equally relevant topic, I got an interview to work on the Jerry Springer Show. Isn't that funny? A little over a year ago I was making magic at Disney World, now I'll be working with trailer trash and mexican midgets. Well...maybe the difference between Disney and Springer isn't as big as one would think after all...
October 15th, 2005
Haha. Classy awards. In our little group, whoever does the most ridiculous things when they are drunk recieve the Classy award for the week. The first time I won was because I was still drunk at noon without ever going to bed. The second time was for not only swallowing Ashley's gum, but for drinking a 40 in plain sight on the train. Ohhh college.
November 13th, 2005
HAPPY 200th JESS! HERE'S TO 200 MORE!
I am, of course, referring to how many pounds Jess Dangles has lost since going on the South Beach diet! At this rate she might even be able to get out of bed by Christmas!
January 3rd, 2006
Maggie ate bologna off the floor and Jacob went psycho crazy and ate everything and anything. In our second adventure, Maggie took the bag from a box of wine, put it in her purse, and named it Super Tati. We shared stories about salad bars, mandarin oranges, and bringing home the bacon, all in reference to someone's vagina.
February 17th, 2006
Well it seems everyone was on top of their game last night. Steph and Libby made out like 3 times. Jess and I gave eachother hickies in the recliner while she played Kelly Clarkson repeatedly and sang along. Everyone else locked themselves in Ashleys bedroom. Then there's the "formal" that I'm not even going to say anything about. I could go on and on, but that's not cool because my good friends are putting it on and I will be respectful. I hope everyone who goes has fun, but I must politely decline my invitation. Thanks, but no thanks.
February 21st, 2006
April 22nd, 2006
Is it really April 22? Seriously? No. It can't be. HP must have programmed the calender function of my computer wrong. RandomHouse has made a mistake in my tear-a-page calender. April. 22. Hardly. Just a few weeks ago I was oling up my face and hair to dress like a mechanic, in our bathroom that was covered in blood from Matt's costume. And how long ago did Jess give me the bacon tape for Christmas? Couldn't have been that long. Wasn't Dani sitting on my floor cutting out paper shapes while I played X-Men Legends II right after that?
May 20th, 2006
It was a good birthday. Jeff and Matt bought me an M&M's ice cream cake.
July 11th. 2006
Jess and I really should have a babysitter. Because we are children. We talk like children and we act like children. And alcohol only exacerbates this tendency. Perhaps I should mention the picture we took of putting our heads in the oven. Or the somersaults off of her brothers bed. Or rapping to 50 Cent and L'il Kim's "Magic Stick" at least 50 times. And let's not forget the mad libs. Walking over to her place, I knew that drunk mad libs with Dangles was going to be the icing on the cake. Unfortunately, due to the extreme amount of disgusting, volatile, racist, crude, and utterly filthy language we chose to use in said mad libs, I don't feel that this is a good place to post them.
August 8th, 2006
The most memorable OL experience so far definitely has to be when Jacob, Cam, Millie, and I watched Final Destination 3. Holy shit, what an evening that turned out to be. If you don't know why, then I guess you'll have to just wonder. It was bucknutty, to say the least. Lollapalooza was awesome. I was wondering if I would have as good of a time this year as I did last year. I most definitely did. even though I wasn't nearly as excited about the line-up, there were tons of bands that blew me away.
September 16th, 2006
Thanks to Baggy, and the fact that I happened to be friends with his new boss, I managed to snag a job as an office assistant at Student Affairs. It's pretty laid back and there's even time to do homework, so it's hard to complain about the work situation.
October 31st, 2006
Highlights-
-Jess Dangles spanking me with her whip and yelling "This is what slavery is like!"
-Maggie doing yoga in the middle of a party
-Elroy humping Wenda
-Going up to every single person I encountered that night and saying "I didn't know you were coming tonight!" over and over and over.
-Stealing a pumpkin decoration from Clark's
-Kicking a hole in someone's iPod costume
-Finding a Spiderman mask and telling Maggie to put it on. She did.
-This:
I REFUSED to get off of that tire until somebody took my picture. Luckily Kate jumped up and joined me, otherwise this moment would have been long forgotten. -Stepping on a girls foot and getting punched
-Getting inexplicably mad at someone dressed as the game Twister and telling everyone at the burrito place how much they sucked
-Trying to piss off every stranger I met
-Giving the Mexican guy at the burrito place 20 dollars for change and him walking away, then coming back acting like I never gave him a 20.
-Shielding Maggie while she pee'd in a doorway right on the corner of Halsted and Belmont -The plethora of stupid things we did but I will never remember.
January 1st, 2007
Happy New Year! Jesus take the wheel!
January 12th, 2007
The run.
It's weird that everything I've been working on for the past four months is over. The entire trip to Disney was incredible. I had an absolutely amazing time. It was the single most rewarding experience of my life, and hopefully I can convince at least one other person to do it next year. (No, not just go to Florida, but raise the money and train. If I can find the time, anyone can.)
January 30th, 2007
Things I hate at the moment:
Being sick because of the incident on Friday in which I had to make sure drunk Kara got home safe, as she continued to fall down, get in cars with strangers, piss people off, make out with old men, and or just plain refuse to keep walking. It was not unlike The Canterbury Tales.
February 12th, 2007
I’m excited to be moving on with my life and to try new things. I’m finally going to pursue what I’ve wanted to do all my life, and it’s exciting. I wish everyone actually could come with. In a physical sense, not just some cheesy sentimental blog post way. But at the same time, I love the fact that I have friends all over the world. And I know that all the people who are important to me will not be leaving my life any time soon.
March 4th, 2007
I'm really enjoying myself out here. A lot. I know that a lot of that has to do with the fact that it's barely been a week and I'm still in the honeymoon phase, and that soon the novelty of going to class at CBS Studios will wear off and I'll start to miss Chicago and everyone back there. And I'll of course find ways to make myself miserable like always. I have friends out here, which is good. I saw Rob last night, and I'm friends with the neighbors and with a bunch of people from class, but I just don't see myself meeting another group like the gang back in Chicago. Don't cry for me, though. I'm having the time of my life.
April 13th, 2007
I just want to reiterate the fact that I hate LA and I'm miserable. Not because I want sympathy. Not because I want to go home. Not because I'm lying. But because I want to look back on this part of my life in five years, whether I'm still in California and loving it, or back in Chicago, or selling tea-cozies made out of horse fur in Shipshewana, and remember how much I hate life right now. Because then I'll think to myself "Well, I'm so happy with where I am today, and I know that I'm a better, stronger, and faster(rule of three, every comic's best friend) because of hitting that low point.
Saturday, April 28, 2007
Chapter 11: Part One: If You Don't Put Out That Cigarette I'm Moving To Disney World
This was the hardest chapter for me to write, by far. Have you ever cut yourself (not on purpose, you morbid freak) and then as soon as the wound started to heal, you just decided to take a pen, stab the wound, tear it open, and pour a carton of Morton Salt into it? That's kind of what reliving the Disney College Program is like. Okay, no. Not really. The College Program wasn't the worst thing that ever happened to me. It didn't degrade me, destroy my character, and spit me out as a hollow shell of what I used to be. Although, at times I definitely thought it would. It's hard to write about this experience because there's just so much that needs to be explained, and I don't know where to start. If Best Buy had two parts, then how many would the epic Disney tale take to unfold?
Let's just start the story already, and see where it takes us, shall we?
During my Freshman year at Western, my friend Alicia and I both interviewed for the Walt Disney World College Program. We were on our way back from our bi-weekly trip to the Rec Center (one of the few times we actually went, instead of just going to her place to get high, play The Sims, and half-heartedly convince ourselves that we were going to use the ab-roller) when we saw a flyer for an information meeting. I'm not quite sure how the conversation went, other than it segued to Alicia telling me I needed to find a girl to give me head, but all that really matters for the sake of this story is that we decided to go to the meeting and set up interviews. Flash forward a few weeks later, and both Alicia and I had gotten offers to go to Florida to work Quick Service Food & Beverage. And that is when I learned...
LESSON NUMBER 1: YOU ARE NOT THE PRIVIEST PRINCESS
Disney made sure that we got as little information as possible about most things. If you don't know a lot of what's going on, then you can't complain about it. It's kind of a subdued tactic that they employ in order to keep "cast members" in control. In this case, you were only given your specific "role" and program start date. You were not told where you would be working or exactly what you'd be doing. You could get offered a job in Operations and you could end up working Pirates of the Caribbean. Or, you could end up waving lightsabre-like wands and directing the trams in the parking lot. Which would you rather do? In this case, all Alicia and I knew was that we would be serving food and/or beverage in a quick manner. Now, regardless of whether it's a turkey leg cart, Pinocchio's kitchen, or McDonald's in DinoLand USA, leaving college halfway through your Freshman year to work Quick Service Food and Beverage didn't really seem...you know...applicable to my life goals. Even though I wasn't quite sure what my life goals were at the time, I had the utmost certainty it didn't involve stocking condiment bars and hawking overpriced popcorn in collectible buckets. Alicia and I both declined the offers, and never really thought about it again.
"Role?" "Cast Member?" You're probably wondering if this was a full time job or a high school production of "Crazy For You." Before we go any further, let's get through...
LESSON NUMBER 2: YEAR OF A MILLION DREAMS, LAND OF A MILLION EUPHEMISMS
Here's a quick rundown of the Disney lingo.
"Cast Members" are employees.
Your "Role" is your job.
"Showkeepers" are the janitors.
"Guests" are customers.
"On stage" is anywhere that guests can go.
"Back stage" is an employees-only area
"Bad show" is when you are breaking one of the many guidelines to the "Disney Look" such as your earrings being larger than a quarter, your sideburns being too long, having a goatee, wearing too many rings, sunglasses where a guest can't see your eyes, or wearing white socks with black shoes (or even worse! black shoes with shorts!)
A "Disney Point" is the only way that you can direct a guest. You always point with two fingers, not one.
Now that you understand the fundamentals (and aren't they truly the building blocks of fun?) we can get back to the story. Alicia and I declined the jobs.
"But wait! Steve! Surely this chapter can't be over already!!!"
Not by a long shot, proverbial reader whom I just quoted in order to make a point and try a new literary device. The story is just beginning. Flash forward (again) to one year later. I hated life in Kalamazoo. Mostly, I just hated my roommates. They smoked cigarettes in the house. Once again, Disney was in town recruiting. Alicia backed out on me this time, but I still went to the interview. Somehow, I managed to get offered an even better position. I was asked to be a "Role Hopper." This meant that I got to be trained in all lines of business and "hop" (not literally. I have a bad knee) to different locations. I found out soon enough that all Role Hoppers worked at Epcot, and that they were affectionately named the Rescue Rangers. Cute, huh? Like I said, land of euphemisms. Impressionable young adults aren't going to say goodbye to their entire life and move to Florida to work 40 hours a week for 6 bucks an hour if they're called "everybody's bitch," but they certainly won't hesitate to be a "Rescue Ranger."
I had gotten a pretty sweet job offer. Way better than Quick Service Food and Beverage. Way better than practically every other job that the College Program offered. But now came the hard part. Committing. Did I actually want to do this? Sure, interviewing and seeing if you can get a job is all fine and good, but when it comes down to actually packing your bags, saying goodbye, and moving thousands of miles away all by yourself, it takes quite a bit of thinking. And thinking is exactly what I did. A lot of it. I had two weeks to accept or decline the offer...
..and I decided not to do it. It didn't seem worth it. I was transferring to Columbia after sophomore year. This would mean I would be cutting my days as a Bronco even shorter, and I didn't want to leave my friends any sooner than I had to. So, like every other momentous occasion in my life, I waited until the exact last moment possible make a commitment. Literally, the last moment. I was home for Thanksgiving break, and my parents had gone to bed at about 10:00. We had a lengthy discussion and I stuck by my conclusion that Disney wasn't for me. Sure, it seemed like fun, but what was I really going to get out of it? Was it really worth leaving my friends and family, and falling behind in school? Nope. We all broke into song and belted out "It's Your Thing" by the Isley Brothers, and that was that. I was staying at Western for another semester.
It was all but official. I wasn't going to participate in the Walt Disney World College Program.
Then, at 11:55 pm, 5 minutes before the deadline...I accepted the position.
LESSON NUMBER 3: I THINK I'M INDECISIVE. AREN'T I? OR NO?
Why did I accept all of the sudden? I don't know. What changed my mind? Hard to say. I got online and started checking out websites and message boards about the program, and something inside me just clicked. What's strange is that most of the websites and message boards that I visited were condemning the College Program. They were telling me NOT to do it. But, sometimes you just have to go against the grain. I often do things just because people tell me not to. I'm erratic that way. I mean, living in an apartment in Orlando with people from all over the country, working at the "Happiest Place on Earth," getting a serious tan...what could be better?
The next morning, I told my mom that I changed my mind, and that I accepted the job.
She said "good!"
And so that's how it happened. I suppose this isn't so much a part of the Disney story as it is an extremely long and drawn out (but still entertaining, so fuck you) prologue.
In retrospect, I could have just asked my roommates to stop smoking in the house. Instead, I moved to Florida.
Let's just start the story already, and see where it takes us, shall we?
During my Freshman year at Western, my friend Alicia and I both interviewed for the Walt Disney World College Program. We were on our way back from our bi-weekly trip to the Rec Center (one of the few times we actually went, instead of just going to her place to get high, play The Sims, and half-heartedly convince ourselves that we were going to use the ab-roller) when we saw a flyer for an information meeting. I'm not quite sure how the conversation went, other than it segued to Alicia telling me I needed to find a girl to give me head, but all that really matters for the sake of this story is that we decided to go to the meeting and set up interviews. Flash forward a few weeks later, and both Alicia and I had gotten offers to go to Florida to work Quick Service Food & Beverage. And that is when I learned...
LESSON NUMBER 1: YOU ARE NOT THE PRIVIEST PRINCESS
Disney made sure that we got as little information as possible about most things. If you don't know a lot of what's going on, then you can't complain about it. It's kind of a subdued tactic that they employ in order to keep "cast members" in control. In this case, you were only given your specific "role" and program start date. You were not told where you would be working or exactly what you'd be doing. You could get offered a job in Operations and you could end up working Pirates of the Caribbean. Or, you could end up waving lightsabre-like wands and directing the trams in the parking lot. Which would you rather do? In this case, all Alicia and I knew was that we would be serving food and/or beverage in a quick manner. Now, regardless of whether it's a turkey leg cart, Pinocchio's kitchen, or McDonald's in DinoLand USA, leaving college halfway through your Freshman year to work Quick Service Food and Beverage didn't really seem...you know...applicable to my life goals. Even though I wasn't quite sure what my life goals were at the time, I had the utmost certainty it didn't involve stocking condiment bars and hawking overpriced popcorn in collectible buckets. Alicia and I both declined the offers, and never really thought about it again.
"Role?" "Cast Member?" You're probably wondering if this was a full time job or a high school production of "Crazy For You." Before we go any further, let's get through...
LESSON NUMBER 2: YEAR OF A MILLION DREAMS, LAND OF A MILLION EUPHEMISMS
Here's a quick rundown of the Disney lingo.
"Cast Members" are employees.
Your "Role" is your job.
"Showkeepers" are the janitors.
"Guests" are customers.
"On stage" is anywhere that guests can go.
"Back stage" is an employees-only area
"Bad show" is when you are breaking one of the many guidelines to the "Disney Look" such as your earrings being larger than a quarter, your sideburns being too long, having a goatee, wearing too many rings, sunglasses where a guest can't see your eyes, or wearing white socks with black shoes (or even worse! black shoes with shorts!)
A "Disney Point" is the only way that you can direct a guest. You always point with two fingers, not one.
Now that you understand the fundamentals (and aren't they truly the building blocks of fun?) we can get back to the story. Alicia and I declined the jobs.
"But wait! Steve! Surely this chapter can't be over already!!!"
Not by a long shot, proverbial reader whom I just quoted in order to make a point and try a new literary device. The story is just beginning. Flash forward (again) to one year later. I hated life in Kalamazoo. Mostly, I just hated my roommates. They smoked cigarettes in the house. Once again, Disney was in town recruiting. Alicia backed out on me this time, but I still went to the interview. Somehow, I managed to get offered an even better position. I was asked to be a "Role Hopper." This meant that I got to be trained in all lines of business and "hop" (not literally. I have a bad knee) to different locations. I found out soon enough that all Role Hoppers worked at Epcot, and that they were affectionately named the Rescue Rangers. Cute, huh? Like I said, land of euphemisms. Impressionable young adults aren't going to say goodbye to their entire life and move to Florida to work 40 hours a week for 6 bucks an hour if they're called "everybody's bitch," but they certainly won't hesitate to be a "Rescue Ranger."
I had gotten a pretty sweet job offer. Way better than Quick Service Food and Beverage. Way better than practically every other job that the College Program offered. But now came the hard part. Committing. Did I actually want to do this? Sure, interviewing and seeing if you can get a job is all fine and good, but when it comes down to actually packing your bags, saying goodbye, and moving thousands of miles away all by yourself, it takes quite a bit of thinking. And thinking is exactly what I did. A lot of it. I had two weeks to accept or decline the offer...
..and I decided not to do it. It didn't seem worth it. I was transferring to Columbia after sophomore year. This would mean I would be cutting my days as a Bronco even shorter, and I didn't want to leave my friends any sooner than I had to. So, like every other momentous occasion in my life, I waited until the exact last moment possible make a commitment. Literally, the last moment. I was home for Thanksgiving break, and my parents had gone to bed at about 10:00. We had a lengthy discussion and I stuck by my conclusion that Disney wasn't for me. Sure, it seemed like fun, but what was I really going to get out of it? Was it really worth leaving my friends and family, and falling behind in school? Nope. We all broke into song and belted out "It's Your Thing" by the Isley Brothers, and that was that. I was staying at Western for another semester.
It was all but official. I wasn't going to participate in the Walt Disney World College Program.
Then, at 11:55 pm, 5 minutes before the deadline...I accepted the position.
LESSON NUMBER 3: I THINK I'M INDECISIVE. AREN'T I? OR NO?
Why did I accept all of the sudden? I don't know. What changed my mind? Hard to say. I got online and started checking out websites and message boards about the program, and something inside me just clicked. What's strange is that most of the websites and message boards that I visited were condemning the College Program. They were telling me NOT to do it. But, sometimes you just have to go against the grain. I often do things just because people tell me not to. I'm erratic that way. I mean, living in an apartment in Orlando with people from all over the country, working at the "Happiest Place on Earth," getting a serious tan...what could be better?
The next morning, I told my mom that I changed my mind, and that I accepted the job.
She said "good!"
And so that's how it happened. I suppose this isn't so much a part of the Disney story as it is an extremely long and drawn out (but still entertaining, so fuck you) prologue.
In retrospect, I could have just asked my roommates to stop smoking in the house. Instead, I moved to Florida.
An announcement
I'm going to China in the summer of 2008. This means that as soon as I get a real job, I am going to be doing some hardcore saving. This also means that aside from the trip to Florida for next year's marathon and trips home for Thanksgiving and Christmas, I won't be traveling anywhere else. This means that the odds of me making another trip to Chicago between next month and the Summer of 2008 are less than slim.
But...I'm REALLY excited for China!
But...I'm REALLY excited for China!
Sunday, April 22, 2007
Pledge
So it's Earth Day and I was listening to talk radio on my way back from San Diego this morning. (Yeah, it's 5am, I got 3 hours of sleep, it's still dark and I can barely keep my eyes open, but TALK RADIO seemed like a good stimulant). They had on people talking about doing our part to be environmentally conscious and all that. I decided that I was going to go green and start taking the train or bus to work.
Then I found out that while there are various rail and bus routes that can get me to The Weinstein Co, the shortest one would take an hour and a half. Granted, it already takes me fifty minutes to drive to work in the morning, but to take the bus I would need to get up at 7 am, and I wouldn't get home until 9:30 pm. Then, I thought "oh, well maybe I'll take do this once a week, that's still doing my part!" But being realistic, I don't think I'll be able to handle that kind of commute even once a week. But then again, my original plan for Semester in LA was to live in Huntington Beach, and that would have been like a two hour commute...
So, I cannot pledge to take public transportation every day, and I highly doubt I could manage to take it even once a week. But, I do pledge to make an effort to occasionally take the bus or train to work or class.
Then I found out that while there are various rail and bus routes that can get me to The Weinstein Co, the shortest one would take an hour and a half. Granted, it already takes me fifty minutes to drive to work in the morning, but to take the bus I would need to get up at 7 am, and I wouldn't get home until 9:30 pm. Then, I thought "oh, well maybe I'll take do this once a week, that's still doing my part!" But being realistic, I don't think I'll be able to handle that kind of commute even once a week. But then again, my original plan for Semester in LA was to live in Huntington Beach, and that would have been like a two hour commute...
So, I cannot pledge to take public transportation every day, and I highly doubt I could manage to take it even once a week. But, I do pledge to make an effort to occasionally take the bus or train to work or class.
Saturday, April 21, 2007
Let's twist again
I just got back from a little run and I'm getting ready to go to San Diego, but I'm kind of scared to go to my car. It's the only one parked in the parking lot, and while the area is safe and my car is literally next to a Kindercare-type establishment, it is the only care in the parking lot, and there just happens to be a crazy old asian man standing in the middle of the lot shaking his hips.
Yeeeeaaaahhhh....
Yeeeeaaaahhhh....
Something new for a change
I feel like I haven't really experienced much here. This thought occurred to me when pulled out my digital camera and realized I haven't taken a single picture in over a month. Once again, I blame it on the fact that I have no one to go places with. Once Flavin is out here, I promise you pix aplenty. But for now...anyone wishing I'd stop writing blogs that alternate between "I LOVE IT!" and "I HATE IT!" and want some juicy Hollywood bullshit, here you go.
-I stood in line in front of Marisa's little sister from The OC at Pinkberry.
-I walk down a street they use for Brothers & Sisters every day.
-I delivered a script to someone who is apparently very important at Disney. I had to go into this immaculate building. Even though I'm interning on the lot and have every right to be there, I still felt underdressed, because this place (it's called Team Disney) is gigantic, pristine, and intimidating. The pillars of the building are carved into the shape of the seven dwarves, and you can always tell which couriers haven't been on the lot before, because they stand in the parking lot taking cell phone pictures of it. Anyway, you walk in, and you're absolutely convinced that everybody is looking at you because you're wearing a black zip-up hooded sweatshirt and sneakers. Even though the important guy you're delivering to isn't dressed up either, the entire office gives off the distinct impression that they don't want you there and that you suck at life. It also smells like the Pirates of the Carribbean ride, for some reason.
- My friend Cam from Columbia is in San Diego this weekend, so I'm planning on driving down there tomorrow after Improv and spending the night. I'm excited because not only do I get to see a friend, but I get to go do something fun and California-like.
- The homeless people in LA are 300000 times crazier than the ones in Chicago. Fortunately, Weinstein is in an upscale neighborhood and Offspring is in Burbank, so I never really get to see them except when I'm driving up La Brea to get home. They're never out in the morning, it seems.
- Britney Spears has been rehearsing at a studio not to far from where I live.
- I have been putting off any sort of scriptwriting for far too long, so before I go to bed I'm going to finish an outline for 30 Rock and write a five page sketch that will end up not being funny.
There. See? My life in LA is slightly more fun than I let on. I think once I get a solid group of friends and have stuff to do, I surely won't mind living out here as much. I think I'm going to make some good friends in Improv, and the other interns start at Weinstein in a few weeks, so I'm crossing my fingers that pretty soon I'll have stories and pictures to share.
-I stood in line in front of Marisa's little sister from The OC at Pinkberry.
-I walk down a street they use for Brothers & Sisters every day.
-I delivered a script to someone who is apparently very important at Disney. I had to go into this immaculate building. Even though I'm interning on the lot and have every right to be there, I still felt underdressed, because this place (it's called Team Disney) is gigantic, pristine, and intimidating. The pillars of the building are carved into the shape of the seven dwarves, and you can always tell which couriers haven't been on the lot before, because they stand in the parking lot taking cell phone pictures of it. Anyway, you walk in, and you're absolutely convinced that everybody is looking at you because you're wearing a black zip-up hooded sweatshirt and sneakers. Even though the important guy you're delivering to isn't dressed up either, the entire office gives off the distinct impression that they don't want you there and that you suck at life. It also smells like the Pirates of the Carribbean ride, for some reason.
- My friend Cam from Columbia is in San Diego this weekend, so I'm planning on driving down there tomorrow after Improv and spending the night. I'm excited because not only do I get to see a friend, but I get to go do something fun and California-like.
- The homeless people in LA are 300000 times crazier than the ones in Chicago. Fortunately, Weinstein is in an upscale neighborhood and Offspring is in Burbank, so I never really get to see them except when I'm driving up La Brea to get home. They're never out in the morning, it seems.
- Britney Spears has been rehearsing at a studio not to far from where I live.
- I have been putting off any sort of scriptwriting for far too long, so before I go to bed I'm going to finish an outline for 30 Rock and write a five page sketch that will end up not being funny.
There. See? My life in LA is slightly more fun than I let on. I think once I get a solid group of friends and have stuff to do, I surely won't mind living out here as much. I think I'm going to make some good friends in Improv, and the other interns start at Weinstein in a few weeks, so I'm crossing my fingers that pretty soon I'll have stories and pictures to share.
Wednesday, April 18, 2007
untitled
I just read a quote from some of the coroners in Virginia saying that the hardest part for them when they were bringing in bodies from the VT shooting was the constant barrage of ringing coming from the victims' cell phones. People trying to contact them to see if they're alright. I just find that chilling. Hearing some corny jingle, or a rap song like "Chain Hang Low," knowing that the person on the other line has just lost someone, and they don't know yet. And as the phone kicks into voicemail, you can't even begin to imagine how terrified those people must be.
I also read about a girl who was one of only four people in her class of 25 that wasn't shot. Can you imagine? I mean, seriously. Take a second and think about that. Put yourself in that situation. Think about one of your actual classes. For me, I chose Speech: Communicating the Message, because there were about 30 of us. Now think about all of the people in your class. Pick four of them randomly. Don't think about who you like, who you don't like. Don't think about who's a good person or who's not so nice. Don't think about who is late or absent a lot. The shooter sure didn't. Just pick four people. And there you have it. The quiet guy that falls asleep in the back all the time, the girl who never turns her cell phone off, the guy who failed every test because he always came stoned, and that bitch who yells at you for kicking her chair. Of the entire class, they're the only ones who got out. You're probably dead. Odds are certainly not in your favor. Why? Would it be to cliche to say "God only knows?"
Now comes the inevitable persecution of the shooter. You'll hear tons of people saying he was a sick fuck and deserves to burn in hell and that sort of thing, but in a lot of ways, I feel sorry for him. Obviously, it's a heinous act and a terrible tragedy, that goes without saying. But I don't hate this guy. I pity him. I pity that he never received the help or treatments that someone with so many mental issues needed. I pity him because as a society, we failed him miserably. I don't believe that people are born bad, or that they make decisions like this because they are evil. I believe that the world not only ignored his needs, but in many ways nurtured his violent tendencies. And because of that, innocent people suffered. Don't hate him. Don't hate anything at all. Hate is what caused this tragedy in the first place. When something doesn't make sense to you, don't go to that dark place in your heart. Try to understand it. Try to make sense of it. If I were a less clever writer, and I wanted to end this paragraph with a cliche as well, I'd probably say that "hate breeds hate."
How do you come back from an experience like this? My heart truly goes out to all of the students at Virginia Tech. How do you go back to class? How do you go about your life? How do you ever feel safe again? How does anybody ever feel safe again? Why does anybody ever feel safe to begin with? If nothing else, doesn't this tragedy demonstrate that an "unspeakable act of horror" can take place anywhere, anytime? These were normal college kids. These kids were me and you. They had families. They had dance parties. They had adventures. They went to Starbucks. They played video games. They blogged. The had facebook accounts. They missed their high school friends.
Sure, it didn't happen to you. And you probably don't even know anyone that goes to Virginia Tech (I don't). And in a few weeks, you get to go back on with your life and put this unpleasantness behind you. I'm not trying to sound ominous by saying "It could be you!" I think your local action news does a plenty good job instilling that state of mind already. All I'm getting at here is...none of us are really that different. We're all in this crazy, mixed-up, tragic, awful, beautiful world together. And on Monday morning, our team lost 33. Try and remember that.
-----
Buffy: Does it ever get easy?
Giles: You mean life?
Buffy: Yeah. Does it get easy?
Giles: What do you want me to say?
Buffy: Lie to me.
Giles: Yes, it's terribly simple. The good guys are always stalwart and true, the bad guys are easily distinguished by their pointy horns or black hats, and, uh, we always defeat them and save the day. No one ever dies, and everybody lives happily ever after.
Buffy: Liar.
I also read about a girl who was one of only four people in her class of 25 that wasn't shot. Can you imagine? I mean, seriously. Take a second and think about that. Put yourself in that situation. Think about one of your actual classes. For me, I chose Speech: Communicating the Message, because there were about 30 of us. Now think about all of the people in your class. Pick four of them randomly. Don't think about who you like, who you don't like. Don't think about who's a good person or who's not so nice. Don't think about who is late or absent a lot. The shooter sure didn't. Just pick four people. And there you have it. The quiet guy that falls asleep in the back all the time, the girl who never turns her cell phone off, the guy who failed every test because he always came stoned, and that bitch who yells at you for kicking her chair. Of the entire class, they're the only ones who got out. You're probably dead. Odds are certainly not in your favor. Why? Would it be to cliche to say "God only knows?"
Now comes the inevitable persecution of the shooter. You'll hear tons of people saying he was a sick fuck and deserves to burn in hell and that sort of thing, but in a lot of ways, I feel sorry for him. Obviously, it's a heinous act and a terrible tragedy, that goes without saying. But I don't hate this guy. I pity him. I pity that he never received the help or treatments that someone with so many mental issues needed. I pity him because as a society, we failed him miserably. I don't believe that people are born bad, or that they make decisions like this because they are evil. I believe that the world not only ignored his needs, but in many ways nurtured his violent tendencies. And because of that, innocent people suffered. Don't hate him. Don't hate anything at all. Hate is what caused this tragedy in the first place. When something doesn't make sense to you, don't go to that dark place in your heart. Try to understand it. Try to make sense of it. If I were a less clever writer, and I wanted to end this paragraph with a cliche as well, I'd probably say that "hate breeds hate."
How do you come back from an experience like this? My heart truly goes out to all of the students at Virginia Tech. How do you go back to class? How do you go about your life? How do you ever feel safe again? How does anybody ever feel safe again? Why does anybody ever feel safe to begin with? If nothing else, doesn't this tragedy demonstrate that an "unspeakable act of horror" can take place anywhere, anytime? These were normal college kids. These kids were me and you. They had families. They had dance parties. They had adventures. They went to Starbucks. They played video games. They blogged. The had facebook accounts. They missed their high school friends.
Sure, it didn't happen to you. And you probably don't even know anyone that goes to Virginia Tech (I don't). And in a few weeks, you get to go back on with your life and put this unpleasantness behind you. I'm not trying to sound ominous by saying "It could be you!" I think your local action news does a plenty good job instilling that state of mind already. All I'm getting at here is...none of us are really that different. We're all in this crazy, mixed-up, tragic, awful, beautiful world together. And on Monday morning, our team lost 33. Try and remember that.
-----
Buffy: Does it ever get easy?
Giles: You mean life?
Buffy: Yeah. Does it get easy?
Giles: What do you want me to say?
Buffy: Lie to me.
Giles: Yes, it's terribly simple. The good guys are always stalwart and true, the bad guys are easily distinguished by their pointy horns or black hats, and, uh, we always defeat them and save the day. No one ever dies, and everybody lives happily ever after.
Buffy: Liar.
I don't hate life anymore, for now.
Writers write.
That's what Uncle Jim told me last week when I went to Huntington Beach for Easter. Writers write.
He also told me never to hire my friends, that public television should be dismantled, and that horses should have lights strapped to their heads in case they escape their stables after dark, but for now, but that's neither here nor there.
So why can't I write lately? I mean, aside from blogging which I don't even really consider actual writing because it takes no creativity whatsoever. I know I need to work on something. I need to keep "flexing that muscle," as many of our guest speakers at CBS said. I can't help it though, I'm just never in the mood. I blame it on the internships. When you're reading scripts for 10 hours a day, by the time you get home at 8pm, writing your own is the second to last thing on your mind. (The last thing on your mind, of course, is strapping a light to a horse's head). So I'll just save it for this weekend. Then there's no excuse.
Speaking of weekends, I love my improv class. Wait, Steve, didn't you already take improv? No, you fucking moron. I dropped it because I was too advanced and because I got a job at Universal (see how well that worked out?) Now I'm in a higher level, and the people in it with me are loads of fun. Some are even my age, which is a nice change of pace.
Drive is one of my new favorite shows. It just started but I'm already obsessed. It's by the guy that did Firefly and Wonderfalls, so you know it's not just some lame ripoff of Fast and the Furious. My mouth is wide open for the entire duration of an episode. You know, in a few short weeks, I will have a degree in Television. That makes me pretty close to a professional. In the court of law, I could be an expert witness. Therefore, my opinions on TV programs should be taken seriously. Have I led anyone astray before? I mean, who wasn't watching Lost Season 1 obsessively in Baggy's room? Ashley, do you not love Veronica Mars and The Office? And Jeff sure loves himself some Heroes and 30 Rock. Trust me people, I know what's good for you. And Drive is is the fucking echinacea of television programming.
I hate life a little bit less now. Partly because I have discovered Drive, but mostly because it's midweek, and I'm always happiest when I'm interning. Weekends are a bit hard to deal with, because that's when I've got nothing to do and realize how lonely I am, but Monday through Friday I'm happy as an overworked and unpaid clam.
I switched my plane tickets. I'm going to be In Chicago from May12th-15th, then Novi from the 15th-19th. I did this mostly so that I wouldn't be alone in Cali on my birthday. Sure, I'm still flying back on my birthday, but at least I'll be able to spend most of the day with my family. The day I turned 20 in Florida was far and away the most miserable day of my life and I just don't even want to relive that experience again, so I'm VERY happy to be home for it this time. Also, it just so happens that I have an hour and a half layover in Chicago on my Birthday when I fly back to LA. No. I didn't plan that. But if anyone wants to stop by Midway and surprise me, feel free. Chances are good I won't be at Lolla this year, and for Thanksgiving and Christmas I'll be going right to Michigan. So if you don't see me at the airport, there's a good chance the rest of your 2007 will be Steveless.
That's what Uncle Jim told me last week when I went to Huntington Beach for Easter. Writers write.
He also told me never to hire my friends, that public television should be dismantled, and that horses should have lights strapped to their heads in case they escape their stables after dark, but for now, but that's neither here nor there.
So why can't I write lately? I mean, aside from blogging which I don't even really consider actual writing because it takes no creativity whatsoever. I know I need to work on something. I need to keep "flexing that muscle," as many of our guest speakers at CBS said. I can't help it though, I'm just never in the mood. I blame it on the internships. When you're reading scripts for 10 hours a day, by the time you get home at 8pm, writing your own is the second to last thing on your mind. (The last thing on your mind, of course, is strapping a light to a horse's head). So I'll just save it for this weekend. Then there's no excuse.
Speaking of weekends, I love my improv class. Wait, Steve, didn't you already take improv? No, you fucking moron. I dropped it because I was too advanced and because I got a job at Universal (see how well that worked out?) Now I'm in a higher level, and the people in it with me are loads of fun. Some are even my age, which is a nice change of pace.
Drive is one of my new favorite shows. It just started but I'm already obsessed. It's by the guy that did Firefly and Wonderfalls, so you know it's not just some lame ripoff of Fast and the Furious. My mouth is wide open for the entire duration of an episode. You know, in a few short weeks, I will have a degree in Television. That makes me pretty close to a professional. In the court of law, I could be an expert witness. Therefore, my opinions on TV programs should be taken seriously. Have I led anyone astray before? I mean, who wasn't watching Lost Season 1 obsessively in Baggy's room? Ashley, do you not love Veronica Mars and The Office? And Jeff sure loves himself some Heroes and 30 Rock. Trust me people, I know what's good for you. And Drive is is the fucking echinacea of television programming.
I hate life a little bit less now. Partly because I have discovered Drive, but mostly because it's midweek, and I'm always happiest when I'm interning. Weekends are a bit hard to deal with, because that's when I've got nothing to do and realize how lonely I am, but Monday through Friday I'm happy as an overworked and unpaid clam.
I switched my plane tickets. I'm going to be In Chicago from May12th-15th, then Novi from the 15th-19th. I did this mostly so that I wouldn't be alone in Cali on my birthday. Sure, I'm still flying back on my birthday, but at least I'll be able to spend most of the day with my family. The day I turned 20 in Florida was far and away the most miserable day of my life and I just don't even want to relive that experience again, so I'm VERY happy to be home for it this time. Also, it just so happens that I have an hour and a half layover in Chicago on my Birthday when I fly back to LA. No. I didn't plan that. But if anyone wants to stop by Midway and surprise me, feel free. Chances are good I won't be at Lolla this year, and for Thanksgiving and Christmas I'll be going right to Michigan. So if you don't see me at the airport, there's a good chance the rest of your 2007 will be Steveless.
Sunday, April 15, 2007
I made this quiz in December 2003. TAKE IT!
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Nobody likes your bad attitude. Maybe you're trying to seem more interesting by being so negative, but it's really just annoying. Lot's of people have it worse than you, so eat shit. If life sucks so bad just kill yourself already.
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Friday, April 13, 2007
Wandering AIMlessly
I just want to reiterate the fact that I hate LA and I'm miserable. Not because I want sympathy. Not because I want to go home. Not because I'm lying.
But because I want to look back on this part of my life in five years, whether I'm still in California and loving it, or back in Chicago, or selling tea-cozies made out of horse fur in Shipshewana, and remember how much I hate life right now. Because then I'll think to myself "Well, I'm so happy with where I am today, and I know that I'm a better, stronger, and faster(rule of three, every comic's best friend) because of hitting that low point." Without the bitter, the sweet just ain't as sweet. I'm fucking motivated, man. People seem to forget how driven I am. I want to do what I want to do and no smog-ridden, asshole-infested, earthquake-prone shithole of a town is going to stop me from doing what I've set out to do. Plus, my parents paid a lot for my college.
I'm in on a Friday night blogging. That should tell you how bitter we're talking here. However, that will just make the proverbial sweet even tastier when it comes along.
I'm also fasting from AIM. One week, at least. I've already uninstalled it, so this is pretty serious. I think AIM is fantastic and shudder at the mere thought of graduating college in an era without instant communication with friends right at my fingertips, but I also shudder at how much I use it. And for the most meaningless of conversations, too. No, not you, Jess! U no I b luvin' wut we share. So, no AIM for a week. Gives me a chance to write. Gives me a chance to go out and meet people (yeah fucking right, where am I gonna go?) Gives me a chance to spend less time reading away messages and moping.
Universal sent me my last paycheck. Suckers, I totally wasn't even going to ask for it. I considered it a "sorry I quit and fucked you over" payment. But hey, I could totally use that forty bucks right now.
Well, that's all I've really got. I want to revise my earl script for the last time and be COMPLETELY done with it, and write that sketch I've been talking about all week, so now that my life is sans instant messanger, that should be a bit easier. My computer might be AIMless, but I sure as hell am not.
But because I want to look back on this part of my life in five years, whether I'm still in California and loving it, or back in Chicago, or selling tea-cozies made out of horse fur in Shipshewana, and remember how much I hate life right now. Because then I'll think to myself "Well, I'm so happy with where I am today, and I know that I'm a better, stronger, and faster(rule of three, every comic's best friend) because of hitting that low point." Without the bitter, the sweet just ain't as sweet. I'm fucking motivated, man. People seem to forget how driven I am. I want to do what I want to do and no smog-ridden, asshole-infested, earthquake-prone shithole of a town is going to stop me from doing what I've set out to do. Plus, my parents paid a lot for my college.
I'm in on a Friday night blogging. That should tell you how bitter we're talking here. However, that will just make the proverbial sweet even tastier when it comes along.
I'm also fasting from AIM. One week, at least. I've already uninstalled it, so this is pretty serious. I think AIM is fantastic and shudder at the mere thought of graduating college in an era without instant communication with friends right at my fingertips, but I also shudder at how much I use it. And for the most meaningless of conversations, too. No, not you, Jess! U no I b luvin' wut we share. So, no AIM for a week. Gives me a chance to write. Gives me a chance to go out and meet people (yeah fucking right, where am I gonna go?) Gives me a chance to spend less time reading away messages and moping.
Universal sent me my last paycheck. Suckers, I totally wasn't even going to ask for it. I considered it a "sorry I quit and fucked you over" payment. But hey, I could totally use that forty bucks right now.
Well, that's all I've really got. I want to revise my earl script for the last time and be COMPLETELY done with it, and write that sketch I've been talking about all week, so now that my life is sans instant messanger, that should be a bit easier. My computer might be AIMless, but I sure as hell am not.
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