i never really know what to say when people ask about my plans for the future or what career i’m working towards. “a filmmaker” has been my default answer for years, but honestly, i’m not sure if i’m driven (or have enough confidence) to get deep into “the business” or if i’m even fit to make movies, though i have enjoyed the few small films i’ve worked on.
i wish i could say i was one of those people who have had their lives mapped out since kindergarten. sure, i decided that i wanted to make films at a pretty young age, but i have a pocketful of other unrelated interests and dreams and aspirations, as well. it took me a long time to get my shit together post-high school because i was always under the impression that what you studied in college accurately reflected what you would go on to do after you graduate. naturally, it took me three years, a failed stint at fashion school, and two years at a junior college to decide what path is right for me. and, even though i now have an idea of where i’m going from here (i’ll be transferring to a university to finally get my bachelor’s in film), i’m still just as confused as i was when i graduated high school four years ago!
to be honest, i’m studying film simply to learn more about a medium i love, appreciate and respect. movies swept me away when i was just a little girl. the ones i fall in love with can affect me in the most powerful of ways and the dazes they leave me in can be tough to snap out of. what i plan on doing with my degree(s) when things are all said and done is up in the air. for me, film school isn’t a vehicle to get me into the film industry and it’s certainly not a means to an end, it’s just one of the pit stops i’m making along my nomadic journey of exploring and satisfying my curiosity. what’s next? maybe culinary school, maybe writing my first feature, maybe a voyage around the world! who knows! who cares? spontaneity’s my middle name and i wouldn’t want to be called anything else.
i was going to publish a somewhat dark post, but i’ve decided to put it off ’til later. gloominess is off-limits today, because it’s my 22nd birthday! happy birthday to me! and to bobby flay, raven-symone, dan blocker, emily dickinson, meg white, michael clarke duncan, susan dey, kenneth branagh, and all my other good company. if it’s your birthday and you so happen to read this: happy birthday to you, too!
so far, my birthday has been spent:
completing phase three of mission: organized chaos (post coming soon!).
eating lukewarm condensed kreplach straight outta the can (i know, right? i’ve hit a new low.).
clicking through the archives of some of my new favorite blogs (1, 2, 3).
job-hunting. >:(
consuming a gluttonous amount of sushi and cookie cake with my family at parker’s lighthouse.
convincing strangers that i’m indeed 22 and not 16. now i just tell people that i look really young because i was bitten by a vampire in 11th grade.
now i’m off to snuggle with my puppy and bunny and watch today’s dvr’d ep of general hospital! feel free to judge me.
hi, new readers! or as charlotte would say: salutations!
thank you to everyone who found my blog via door sixteen (thanks, anna baby!) and left a thoughtful comment on the post i wrote about my kissless existence. while i’m not very shy at all when it comes to sharing my innermost thoughts and feelings, it’s always nice to read the thoughts and stories of other people who can relate to what i have to say. it’s comforting and encouraging.
can yousee the ‘coon circles around my eyes?! that’s how exhausted job-hunting has made me! grrrr.
anyway… heavens to betsy, do i need a J-O-B. “pounding the pavement” is a total joke these days. nearly every establishment demands for their application to be filled out online and/or your résumé to be emailed or uploaded to their company’s website. the whole job-hunting process between prospective employer and prospective employee seems so disconnected. and craigslist is nothing but a tease. it seems that all of the jobs i would really like (aka jobs that are related to the industries i aspire to have a career in) are unpaid internships. don’t get me wrong, internships are definitely valuable, but i’m not in the position to take on anything unpaid at the moment outside of school and volunteering. i need bread. dough. clams. lettuce. bones. CASH MONEY.
anderson cooper wasn’t joking around when he said it’s an “employer’s market” out there. the credentials that some employers require for jobs are getting more and more ridiculous by the day. bachelor’s degrees for entry-level receptionist positions. years’ worth of previous experience for general crew positions at chain movie theaters. unbelievable. i’ve been on several interviews over the past few weeks (group interviews, no less, which are horrible and lame — apparently they save the companies time and money, whatever…) and i can’t even make it past the first cut because the employers have the option of choosing people with degrees and boatloads of experience who are super desperate for work due to the economy. ugh! i miss the days where i could troll craigslist for a few hours, land a gig as a production assistant without much hassle, and be done with it.
maybe the next time i go in for an interview i’ll wear my wingtips. that should convince them. imo, they scream “good hire material.”
what do you all do for a living? did you work or intern (or, good heavens, both) during school? how did you get your start?
remember that drew barrymore movie that came out in the late ’90s with hunky michael vartan and david arquette? never been kissed, that’s the one. in nbk, drew played josie geller, a copy editor for the chicago sun-times who is handed an assignment as an undercover reporter for her former high school. josie was less than popular during her high school career, enduring constant cruelty and criticism from her classmates, being dubbed “josie grossie,” yadda yadda yadda, you get the point. a good chunk of the movie follows the general high school rom-com formula, but the most important plot point (for my purpose, anyway) is that josie was a twenty-something who had never been kissed. her love life was and had been non-existent due to her own crippling insecurities.
lately, i’ve been feeling like the josie geller outside of the silver screen. come the tenth of december, i’ll be 22 years old, and i have never been kissed. never held hands. never had a boyfriend or anything remotely close to one. and never given it much thought until recent months. i don’t have and have never had any romantic life to speak of (or at least not one that’s mutual), and though i had a relatively normal american adolescence (as normal as you can get in los angeles, anyway), i managed to make it to age 22 with virgin lips. i’m sure some of you are wondering, “well, what are you waiting for?” i dunno. i can’t even tell you why i’m a spinster-in-training. i’ve always just thought of myself as a late bloomer in every sense of the word, but i think it boils down to a combination of circumstance, choice, and the teeter-totter that is my self-esteem.
i’m not embarrassed at all by my kiss-less existence — well, i’m not embarrassed until i have to defend myself whenever an extended family member asks me if i’m finally attached to someone — and it doesn’t exactly grind my gears that i have approximately zero experience when it comes to being someone’s steady. i’m 100% sagittarian when it comes to being tied down, anyway — it makes me shake in my $178.62-with-tax jeffrey campbell boots. but ngl, at times i find myself getting a little wistful when my friends come to me as their relationship therapist and i know i can only offer them a bit of armchair philosophy when it comes to cupid.
sometimes i get caught up in the tug o’ war of what i “should” be doing at my age and what i want to do. society makes me feel like i’m doing something wrong. i’m 21. i’m young. shouldn’t i be putting some kinda effort into socializing? shouldn’t i be talking to boys? shouldn’t i be “seeing” people? shouldn’t my first kiss be a thing of the past and not of the future? but in my reality, i’m actually content with keeping my mini menagerie, gearing up for film school, and tending to my solid friendships. and if i’m being completely honest, i dunno if i’m even ready for or genuinely interested in having a boyfriend right now or if i just want external validation that i’m attractive, loveable, and spank-bank worthy.
my nonchalance about all of this makes me wonder about myself. maybe i’m on some dr. laura berman shit. maybe i’m afraid of love. maybe that’s why i gravitate towards crushing on celebrities and people i’m less than likely to meet. don’t get me wrong, i’ve crushed on “irl” guys, albeit only enough to count on three fingers — my close friend in middle school, one of my first college professors, and a kid i befriended earlier this year — but there is one big difference when it comes to crushing on the men on the big screen as opposed to a special irl someone. you can manipulate a celebrity crush in your mind, but once you pine for a boy that’s attainable, the fact that you have little control over what they do or how they feel about you becomes all too real and downright scary.
as of right now, i’m too jealous, sensitive and insecure for all of that, and sadly, i’ve taken those 1990s teen movies to heart and it’s not very hard for me to convince myself that all i am is a bet — a fucking bet between a freddie prinze jr., a dulé hill and a paul walker.
i dunno when i’m going to be ready for my first kiss or my first boyfriend, but my grandpa used to tell me, “sometimes the best races are run by the horses who don’t sprint right out of the gate.” well, while i trot, let’s all collectively cross our fingers that when my time does come, i’ll experience that moment:
i’m kind of a reality show junkie. i mostly go for the competition shows, like the amazing race and top chef, but every now and then an episode of say yes to the dress or jersey shore makes its way onto my dvr. the reality shows i get into the most, though, are the down-and-dirty, raw documentary series — a la a&e’s obsessed and hoarders. i mean, what’s a couch potato to watch when she’s grown tired of all the scripted catfights and contestants talking shit in confessionals?
i was watching an archived dvr episode of hoarders a few weeks ago. it was the absolute worst episode i’ve ever seen of the show — the woman’s house was completely toxic, with ailing cats everywhere. sixteen dead cats were pulled from the disaster, and many were flattened completely by toppled debris and piles of junk. there was cat piss and droppings everywhere, making it impossible to salvage anything. and even as her crap was being dragged out of the house in biohazard bags (!!), she cried about how hard it was to see her possessions go. the show really makes you wonder how some folks get that depressed and that down and out to where they couldn’t care less about their health and interior situations, but i am guilty as charged of acute hoarding myself.
i really gotta get my boudoir in check. it’s embarrassing to admit, especially since i’m so passionate about aesthetics and interior/set design, but my bedroom has looked like a war zone for months now! it took me until two weeks ago (and that ep. of hoarders) to manifest the tiniest bit of motivation to get started on it. there’s just so much work to do. i swore up and down that once i turned 21, i’d reform my messy ways. alas, i’ve managed to regress into an even more pathetic pig. whoever coined the phrase, “you can’t teach an old dog new tricks” was on the money. i don’t think reform is impossible, but it’s a challenge. i’m just so used to my chaotic lifestyle — jumping over mountains (and mole hills) of clothing, dirty laundry piles toppling over into the clean pile, lost mates of socks and shoes that i miraculously manage to find last minute — it’s nothing short of a disaster.
if i were the subject of an episode of clean house (i’m probably two beats away from being eligible to apply), niecy nash would tell me that my clutter is a reflection of my inner emotions. it’s true, though. my bedroom is in shambles because my mind has been in shambles. the disarray? it’s full of clothes that no longer fit — the stuff i haven’t been able to face yet don’t want to see in my closet. ancient diary entries, failed art projects, fragments of my life that i don’t want to deal with, so i just toss them on the floor and kick-sweep ‘em into a corner of the room as if that’ll cease their existence.
the other night, though, i couldn’t even get a good night’s sleep because of the clutter that was literally surrounding my dreams. the state of my room was bothering me in a way that it never had before. i’ve been making a lot of positive changes in my life recently (socially, physically, and academically), so maybe my mind made itself up that my boudoir needs to catch up to the rest of me. so that night, i sat in my bed, and began planning out “mission: organized chaos.” i’ve had enough. i’m cleaning that bitch top to bottom and making it over; i’m on a mission to turn my disorganized chaos into… well, organized chaos. as much as i adore the look, i don’t think i’m going to be a modern minimalist any time soon, so i’m embracing my chaotic nature by taming the clutter and making it more visually interesting. in honor of my epiphany and as a boost of morale for the weeks of work ahead, here are some photos that have been inspiring me to curate my mess.
top to bottom:under my sombrero, an exhibit on forensic science featuring one of several incarnations of gil grissom’s office on csi: crime scene investigation @ the california science center, adidas installation @ we are awesome, markus wormstorm @ we are awesome, scan from interior alchemy @ organon9worlds (rebecca purcell’s work is a chaotically organized mini-hoarder’s wet dream)
there’s this story called the scorpion and the frog. it’s been retold and used in a couple of movies i really dig as a parable to explain man’s instinct of self-destruction. the story is about a scorpion who asks a frog to swim him across the river. the frog’s a bit apprehensive and tells the scorpion that he’s afraid he’ll sting him. the scorpion reassures the frog that of course he won’t sting him. after all, if he stings the frog, the frog will sink and so will he. the frog agrees and sure enough, before they make it across the river, the scorpion stings him. as the frog begins to sink, he asks the scorpion why he did it. the scorpion replies, “i’m a scorpion. it’s in my nature.”
something that’s really been bugging me lately is that quite a few people i’ve come across, and a couple i’ve even developed cordial relationships with, seem to think that their “nature” excuses them from courtesy, decency, and just general social propriety. as if it’s something that can’t be bypassed. to me, “it’s in my nature” is just another lazy rationale used to forgive unacceptable behavior and excuse the unwillingness to change or adapt — like my usual fallback, “i’m whiny / bratty / selfish / dramatic / hyper-sensitive / irresponsible / etc. because i’m a sagittarian and the youngest child, okay? blame it on the alcoholthe boogie my birthday!”
recently i had a conversation with this kid — and by kid, i mean young adult; everyone’s a kid to me ’til they’re soft-shoeing on the welcome mat at death’s door — anyway, we were talking about the relationship between us, how i am when it comes to friendship, and how he is when it comes to friendship. our friendship hit a little patch of turbulence, and in the end he basically told me that no matter what i asked of him or what problems i pointed out, the way he acted was in his nature and he wasn’t going to change it.
maybe it’s because i’m a pretty courteous person (and i’m not tooting my own horn here, because being overly-courteous can be and often is a detriment to my emotional and psychological well-being as well as the emotional and psychological well-beings of the people i whine to when my courtesy is thrown back in my face.) but i sometimes find myself doing and saying things outside of what comes natural to me in order to meet the people i care about halfway. and i don’t see anything wrong with that.
even though there are times and places where the daria morgendorffer “fuck it” attitude works (and trust, i’ve been having that attitude down pat since middle school), i had to learn that despite my once-a-weekly wishes that i were the only person on this planet, i’m not. and short of creating an apocalyptic disaster that only i’m immune to, there’s nothing i can do to change that fact. i have to deal with other people’s emotions and needs and wants, just like they have to deal with mine, and sometimes that means adjusting my perspective and attitude in order to make things work.
just because a personality trait comes naturally to you, it doesn’t mean it’s the right or only way to catch every football life lobs at you (sorry y’all it’s pigskin season). if that were the case, humans wouldn’t be nearly as emotionally, psychologically and mentally elastic as we are; and believe me, we are capable of a lot more than we’re willing to try. but therein lies the problem: humans, for the most part, are creatures of comfort. we’d much rather do what’s comfortable than try what’s not, even if what’s not will result in what’s best. i’m a shrinking violet and a horrible speaker by nature, but these traits are not desired in the industry i’m aspiring towards, so i’m teaching myself to work past them. it’s not fun, it’s not necessarily what i desire, and it’s for damn sure not what’s comfortable, but it’s possible. and quite frankly, it’s life. unfortunately (or fortunately), life’s not going to be fun 24/7 and life’s not going to suck your dick every time you push its head down.
i’m one of the most misanthropic people i know, and it’s because of behavior like this. why make life with other people gloomy and miserable and difficult when it really doesn’t have to be? taking a half-step out of my comfort zone in order to be a little more conscious of others doesn’t really take anything away from me — and if it does, the benefit usually outweighs the cost (or at least evens it out), anyway — so i have no reason to act otherwise. it’s really disenchanting to me how many people feel that their nature gives them a warrant to disregard the thoughts and feelings of others. it’s ludicrous, and i’m not sure i’ll ever understand that beyond-selfish line of thinking. but props to them, though. one of the most important aspects of natural selection is individual prosperity. in the grand scheme of evolution, maybe these miserly stinkers have got a good thing going there.
a few months ago via some random tumblr, i came across this video of an adorable, positive little girl who thinks her whole life is great. i am no doubt a natural pessimist (or maybe i’m a natural optimist that became a synthetic pessimist due to the disappointment other humans tend to offer me), and it’s not a personality trait that i’m proud of or attracted to, so lately i’ve been trying to get a handle on it. enter jessica’s “daily affirmation.” ever since i watched this video for the very first time, i’ve made it a habit to say my own “affirmations” every so often to ward off the pessimistic and cynical parasites that gnaw away at my brain more often than i’d like them to. it’s kinda cheese, but it’s a much better option than the alternative: sulking, pouting, criticizing, and complaining about anything and everything while bringing down the moods of those around you. even when my affirmations are really silly (i like my coloring pencils!), they still manage to brighten my mood and attitude.
can you see the ‘coon circles around my eyes?! that’s how exhausted job-hunting has made me! grrrr.
illustration by 