Chronicles of Narnia
The Happening
Sex & the City
Indiana Jones
Iron Man
The Hulk 2
Hellboy 2
Step Brother
Wanted
The X-Files
and The Dark Knight
Wow. Just...wow.
Wednesday, April 30, 2008
Tuesday, April 29, 2008
Nerdopolis
People have already started booking me two months in advance for the amaaaaazing summer movie season. And I've got three dates for Iron Man, which is perfect. I already know I'm gonna love it. The big O.
The curse and blessing of being such a geek goddess. I'm just glad my enthusiasm while watching doesn't bug my friends. Poor Josh usually laughs more at me than the movie...
Expect many more opinions like I had for X-Men 3 and Star Wars 3 "Star Wars 2" was before I was a blogger, but I fell asleep on Dr. Dave when Yoda started fighting using the force in anger, so guess that says it all.
The curse and blessing of being such a geek goddess. I'm just glad my enthusiasm while watching doesn't bug my friends. Poor Josh usually laughs more at me than the movie...
Expect many more opinions like I had for X-Men 3 and Star Wars 3 "Star Wars 2" was before I was a blogger, but I fell asleep on Dr. Dave when Yoda started fighting using the force in anger, so guess that says it all.
Neil Diamond
Can't believe I'm watching "American Idol." Blame Nate for standing me up staying late at work, ha ha ha...Couldn't possibly be my bad TV taste ;) But I've got good food taste; eating a fat Banana Split Sundae. Hells to the yeah. Life is for living.
God I still love Neil Diamond. He's got that number one quality for me in a man: sweetness. Love love love.
What's your fav song of his? They didn't do mine: "Longfellow Serenade". Pretty obscure choice out of his oeuvre. Here's my favorite verse/chorus of it:
Longfellow Serenade
Such were the plans I made
But she was a lady
As deep as the river
And through the night, we stayed
And in my way, I loved her as none before
Loved her with words and more
For she was lonely
And I was lonely
Ride, come on baby, ride
Let me make your dreams come true
I'll sing my song
Let me sing my song
Let me make it warm for you
I'll weave this web of rhyme
Upon this summer night
We'll leave this worldly time
On his winged flight
Then come, and as we lay
Beside this sleepy glade
There I'll sing to you
My Longfellow serenade
Ha ha, I quoted Wordsworth in The Commune and no one's gotten it yet. I wandered lonely as a cloud.
Ah, romantics are all but extinct...we've been bagged and tagged and left for dead.
But that David Cook...he's pretty dreamy, huh. Singing All I Really Need is You. Cagey, man. Good music arrangement again. He's one smart competitor. I don't know if I trust his sweetness. A little too calculated. I really liked his Billy Jean performance a month ago, though.
God I still love Neil Diamond. He's got that number one quality for me in a man: sweetness. Love love love.
What's your fav song of his? They didn't do mine: "Longfellow Serenade". Pretty obscure choice out of his oeuvre. Here's my favorite verse/chorus of it:
Longfellow Serenade
Such were the plans I made
But she was a lady
As deep as the river
And through the night, we stayed
And in my way, I loved her as none before
Loved her with words and more
For she was lonely
And I was lonely
Ride, come on baby, ride
Let me make your dreams come true
I'll sing my song
Let me sing my song
Let me make it warm for you
I'll weave this web of rhyme
Upon this summer night
We'll leave this worldly time
On his winged flight
Then come, and as we lay
Beside this sleepy glade
There I'll sing to you
My Longfellow serenade
Ha ha, I quoted Wordsworth in The Commune and no one's gotten it yet. I wandered lonely as a cloud.
Ah, romantics are all but extinct...we've been bagged and tagged and left for dead.
But that David Cook...he's pretty dreamy, huh. Singing All I Really Need is You. Cagey, man. Good music arrangement again. He's one smart competitor. I don't know if I trust his sweetness. A little too calculated. I really liked his Billy Jean performance a month ago, though.
Wha-huh????!!!
I don't visit Facebook that often because I don't want constant updates on my exes and men who've rejected me. Funny thing about that, I find Facebook and Myspace make women messy. Seem to be designed to bring out low self-esteem in women so that the one night standers can swoop in for the pickings.
But after almost a month of not signing in, guess what was waiting for me?
A Facebook message from a guy in Singapore who says "I'm a huge fan, love your performance in The Commune, please add me as a friend!"
Oh, and I can see from his profile he works for MTV Networks.
?????????????????????????????????????????????????
"The Commune" isn't out anywhere. We've sent it to Cannes and LAFF, and been effin' anal about destroying copies (only Heidi and I have one) and know exactly who we've shown it to. Because I'm nobody's fool, and pirating kills small independent filmmakers.
Three possibilities are in my head right now:
1. The movie was thrown in the trash by someone at LAFF or Cannes, and some smart fast pirater rummaged through the DVDS and picked ours. Edited out the "For Screening Purposes Only" - tagged scenes and released it in Asia and I should kill myself now. Just take a running leap off a building.
2. This man has not seen my movie.
3. This man was on a screening committee for either Cannes or LAFF, indeed does like my film, and is my first unknown unsolicited movie fan.
#3 would be very cool. Although it still makes me a feel a little weird and exposed (literally...at least he didn't say "great rack!" because I can't tell you how wigged I'm going to be when that starts), it also gives me great great hope and a tiny ounce of pride.
Like this blog and me in general, I don't hold back the truth...the movie goes straight for the jugular, and I imagine it will get A's and F's from people who see it.
So...wow. Someone who didn't know me Loves it.
Cool.
Oh shit!!!! I just thought of a fourth disappointing possibility....He saw "Conventioneers" and mistook me for the lead actress....Oh, that's possible. I look like Woodwyn in the poster. Yeah, that's possible.
But after almost a month of not signing in, guess what was waiting for me?
A Facebook message from a guy in Singapore who says "I'm a huge fan, love your performance in The Commune, please add me as a friend!"
Oh, and I can see from his profile he works for MTV Networks.
?????????????????????????????????????????????????
"The Commune" isn't out anywhere. We've sent it to Cannes and LAFF, and been effin' anal about destroying copies (only Heidi and I have one) and know exactly who we've shown it to. Because I'm nobody's fool, and pirating kills small independent filmmakers.
Three possibilities are in my head right now:
1. The movie was thrown in the trash by someone at LAFF or Cannes, and some smart fast pirater rummaged through the DVDS and picked ours. Edited out the "For Screening Purposes Only" - tagged scenes and released it in Asia and I should kill myself now. Just take a running leap off a building.
2. This man has not seen my movie.
3. This man was on a screening committee for either Cannes or LAFF, indeed does like my film, and is my first unknown unsolicited movie fan.
#3 would be very cool. Although it still makes me a feel a little weird and exposed (literally...at least he didn't say "great rack!" because I can't tell you how wigged I'm going to be when that starts), it also gives me great great hope and a tiny ounce of pride.
Like this blog and me in general, I don't hold back the truth...the movie goes straight for the jugular, and I imagine it will get A's and F's from people who see it.
So...wow. Someone who didn't know me Loves it.
Cool.
Oh shit!!!! I just thought of a fourth disappointing possibility....He saw "Conventioneers" and mistook me for the lead actress....Oh, that's possible. I look like Woodwyn in the poster. Yeah, that's possible.
Cool
By the way, being called out by Showrunner/A-list screenwriter/blog god John Rogers was just too cool not to mention.
Read to the bottom, or you'll miss his killer "hey".
That guy is just so stellar as a writer and a human being. I thought I was a freak about inputting articles and TV shows and movies to build a better writer, but that man misses NOTHING. I don't think he sleeps. He's like Neo downloading martial arts. And still has RAM left over to tell us what's wrong with our dang US political system. Must be something in that Canadian water.
Did I ever mention the Thanksgiving I spent at Mark Waid's house with Mr. Rogers and Tyler Mane from X-Men, a dozen other Illuminati members, and of course Mark's copious collection of DC toys and comics and original art??? My lord. I'm such a lucky, lucky, fangirl.
You know, he actually recognized ME once in Meltdown comics instead of the other way around...that's how cool he is.
Read to the bottom, or you'll miss his killer "hey".
That guy is just so stellar as a writer and a human being. I thought I was a freak about inputting articles and TV shows and movies to build a better writer, but that man misses NOTHING. I don't think he sleeps. He's like Neo downloading martial arts. And still has RAM left over to tell us what's wrong with our dang US political system. Must be something in that Canadian water.
Did I ever mention the Thanksgiving I spent at Mark Waid's house with Mr. Rogers and Tyler Mane from X-Men, a dozen other Illuminati members, and of course Mark's copious collection of DC toys and comics and original art??? My lord. I'm such a lucky, lucky, fangirl.
You know, he actually recognized ME once in Meltdown comics instead of the other way around...that's how cool he is.
Monday, April 28, 2008
Ohhhhhh...
Oh...... I. Am. So. Angry.
You don't want to see me angry.
I'm serious. You don't.
Ask the two dozen people who've ever actually seen me angry. I turn people to stone. Twice on my set when people f*ked with my hard-working crew. Once in college when I thought my car had been stolen.
I wanta put my fist through a f*king wall right now and bust every knuckle.
WHAT. AM. I. DOING.
Seriously.
I'm Lis F*cking Fies.
You all know that.
Why don't I?
I'm sitting on a contests-winning beloved sexy young action superheroine screenplay that could no joke be sold TOMORROW for a half million dollars. Easy.
Easy.
Don't believe me? Look again.
I'm afraid to put it out there because I'm afraid they'll offer me too much to take it away from me and I won't be able to say no. I'll sell out. And they'll give it to Brett Ratner to direct. Don't believe me? He bought "I am Vanessa Delgado" and shelved that feminist manifesto. Poof! Gone. Like it never existed.
But I'm sure that female screenwriter has a good career now, script-doctoring.
And what am I doing, besides festering?
I'm letting myself live in squalor. In fear. In scarcity.
Accepting love crumbs from 24-year-old boys. Not EVEN crumbs from Hollywood.
I'm not even in the f*cking game.
Why? Because I could win it.
Because if I asked for it, there's a possiblity the studios might actually let me direct Pistoleras.
I'm good.
I'm ready.
I've prepared my whole life for it.
I'm being a pussy.
And I'm treating myself like some loser reject.
I don't have my own back.
F*king balls.
Grow a pair, Miss.
Unacceptable.
You don't want to see me angry.
I'm serious. You don't.
Ask the two dozen people who've ever actually seen me angry. I turn people to stone. Twice on my set when people f*ked with my hard-working crew. Once in college when I thought my car had been stolen.
I wanta put my fist through a f*king wall right now and bust every knuckle.
WHAT. AM. I. DOING.
Seriously.
I'm Lis F*cking Fies.
You all know that.
Why don't I?
I'm sitting on a contests-winning beloved sexy young action superheroine screenplay that could no joke be sold TOMORROW for a half million dollars. Easy.
Easy.
Don't believe me? Look again.
I'm afraid to put it out there because I'm afraid they'll offer me too much to take it away from me and I won't be able to say no. I'll sell out. And they'll give it to Brett Ratner to direct. Don't believe me? He bought "I am Vanessa Delgado" and shelved that feminist manifesto. Poof! Gone. Like it never existed.
But I'm sure that female screenwriter has a good career now, script-doctoring.
And what am I doing, besides festering?
I'm letting myself live in squalor. In fear. In scarcity.
Accepting love crumbs from 24-year-old boys. Not EVEN crumbs from Hollywood.
I'm not even in the f*cking game.
Why? Because I could win it.
Because if I asked for it, there's a possiblity the studios might actually let me direct Pistoleras.
I'm good.
I'm ready.
I've prepared my whole life for it.
I'm being a pussy.
And I'm treating myself like some loser reject.
I don't have my own back.
F*king balls.
Grow a pair, Miss.
Unacceptable.
Sunday, April 27, 2008
Union
Did it! I'm a PAX graduate. Through the curriculum for the first round. Absolutely life-changing.
The coup de grace of PAX programs is their Sunday panel of men, where they bring in ordinary, non-prepped men for us to ask questions of...and their answers always stunningly verify everything we've been understanding/listening/learning. It's always so pure and inspiring, and a room of 140 people ends up crying and thanking each other and it's a big appreciation lovefest.
The panel of men this afternoon was beautiful, stunning. They're always so thrilled to be there contributing to us, letting us celebrate them, providing for us. Love it.
Men's reactions to me all weekend have been amazing. I'll blog some specific stories later in the week.
I'm pretty tired, and obviously didn't explain what the workshop was about very well in the last PAX post. It was a class dissecting marriage from the historical perspective, the DNA-driven compulsion, from men's wants and needs and finally from a paradigm of partnership. All so you could have a real choice about if you ever want it for yourself (I need committment/partnership, but not necessarily a piece of paper).
I was given tools to separate all the chatter and judgement and righteousness that's been thrown at me as a woman since I was three. I was shown a marriage I could emulate. I let go of failing to live up to my grandparents' hopes that I would marry young and well and conform to what is "right". I was given choices and empowered, and fell in love with men all over again.
Don't be freaked out by the word Mahwage.
We're committing to partnerhsip with ALL the men in our lives; brothers, co-workers, friends, all of 'em. They're getting empowerment space from me no matter what. No sniveling; they get to be their best selves around me and all the PAX women. Seen and appreciated and accepted.
And finally, after five months and five classes, I was given peace about why things went wrong with Jeremy. I feel like I can forgive myself. I was doing the best I could, and wow did I have the wrong information and training.
The good news is, I actually met a man who had the minimum requirements of a partner to make me happy, and that I had the 12 things he and all men are looking for. He just didn't know I had #8 because I was trained to hide it by a stupid romance coach from the internet. Flat out hid #8 from Jeremy to not scare him off, when it's the thing that would have told him we could be together.
Okay. This is good news. Really. Especially for a woman with a head injury who had given up on every being able to be a man's partner. The reality is, I met one man who I loved the ME I was around him, and I'll meet more. I don't have to live in a scarcity model. There's no "The One". By definition, if there was only One and he was THE one, how could we not be together?
Looking at my past relationships, I don't know that I've ever been committed. It was all so wrong. What a healing. I just can't wait to get my life in freaking order so I can do this, be a fantastic girlfriend/partner. Meet my Lifetime Playmate. Partner in Crime. Avengers United.
#8. Wow. I was that close. Should've known. Self-expression is a value of mine. I should never hide anything I need or want.
Not even that I wear a retainer every night because I grind my teeth. Sexy, huh. Well...someone out there just might think retainers are cute.
Alright, Jeremy ruminating over. Now that I know how it happened that we were such a great connection and why it didn't go all the way, I can recognize a great potential partner next time and be at cause in committing. That's all I wanted. To understand. I fell into something great accidentally, fell out of it as accidentally. Felt disempowering to not be at cause. But now? I understand.
"If you cause it, you can cure it" is an old medical saying. I have a blueprint now for a lifetime of happiness.
I am content. I can have compassion for myself now for where I frakked up.
Can I share one last thing I've never told anyone?
It's...I don't know WHAT to make of it, except that it was radiant, and I want it to happen again for the rest of my life.
Jeremy was a really amazing human. A total hero.
Arranged his whole life so he can do grassroots political work for underdogs. Goes to D.C. as a totally regular young guy to change laws. He never asked my age or where I grew up, but he wanted to know what charities I volunteered for, how I was using my life to make the world better.
He's a good man. I was behind him 100%. I would have arranged my life to make our partnership #1. I still support his dreams, his vision for the future, and think we could have been fantastically happy in a little green apartment in San Diego riding shotgun in a 25-year old Asian car (I drive one myself and love it), travelling together to the Middle East to fight for their rights and making documentaries. I accepted every part of him and his life and respected him and wanted to be a part of it.*
And I was a queen around him. Just totally at ease, confident, self-expressed, fun empowered. Glowy. He made me the happiest I've ever been in my life. Best sixteen hours ever.
Okay, so that's the part I havent't blogged.
Here's the part I haven't told anyone. Because it's just so...I don't know. To have done this and then been dumped the next morning like a one night stand...too vulnerable of a thing to admit. But I liked who I was, no matter what judgement you have about it and me, so here goes:
When we were together that night, all night, the whole time...he would lay this string of kisses on my body. Worshipful. Totally sacred. And whenever he paused, I would do it back to him. And each single kiss, I thought:
I love you.
*That would be #8. The thing relationship "experts" out there often tell women to hide. That I would be happy to be in the man's life and thrilled to make room for him and give up the Hollywood career and things I'm doing while biding the time until I meet my partner. Because partnership is my value and my #1 committment, and independence is what I do in the meantime to survive in this world. (And I can make dissident guerilla films ANYWHERE.)
If you want to learn the other 11 things men need to have in a relationship in order to marry a woman, TAKE THE COURSE!
It's one of the top five most important things I've ever done. I am SO PROUD of the work I've done and who I can be in the world now for everyone I love.
Lisa Tenzin-Dolma's "Union" 6 of Chalices card from The Glastonbury Tarot Deck
The coup de grace of PAX programs is their Sunday panel of men, where they bring in ordinary, non-prepped men for us to ask questions of...and their answers always stunningly verify everything we've been understanding/listening/learning. It's always so pure and inspiring, and a room of 140 people ends up crying and thanking each other and it's a big appreciation lovefest.
The panel of men this afternoon was beautiful, stunning. They're always so thrilled to be there contributing to us, letting us celebrate them, providing for us. Love it.
Men's reactions to me all weekend have been amazing. I'll blog some specific stories later in the week.
I'm pretty tired, and obviously didn't explain what the workshop was about very well in the last PAX post. It was a class dissecting marriage from the historical perspective, the DNA-driven compulsion, from men's wants and needs and finally from a paradigm of partnership. All so you could have a real choice about if you ever want it for yourself (I need committment/partnership, but not necessarily a piece of paper).
I was given tools to separate all the chatter and judgement and righteousness that's been thrown at me as a woman since I was three. I was shown a marriage I could emulate. I let go of failing to live up to my grandparents' hopes that I would marry young and well and conform to what is "right". I was given choices and empowered, and fell in love with men all over again.
Don't be freaked out by the word Mahwage.
We're committing to partnerhsip with ALL the men in our lives; brothers, co-workers, friends, all of 'em. They're getting empowerment space from me no matter what. No sniveling; they get to be their best selves around me and all the PAX women. Seen and appreciated and accepted.
And finally, after five months and five classes, I was given peace about why things went wrong with Jeremy. I feel like I can forgive myself. I was doing the best I could, and wow did I have the wrong information and training.
The good news is, I actually met a man who had the minimum requirements of a partner to make me happy, and that I had the 12 things he and all men are looking for. He just didn't know I had #8 because I was trained to hide it by a stupid romance coach from the internet. Flat out hid #8 from Jeremy to not scare him off, when it's the thing that would have told him we could be together.
Okay. This is good news. Really. Especially for a woman with a head injury who had given up on every being able to be a man's partner. The reality is, I met one man who I loved the ME I was around him, and I'll meet more. I don't have to live in a scarcity model. There's no "The One". By definition, if there was only One and he was THE one, how could we not be together?
Looking at my past relationships, I don't know that I've ever been committed. It was all so wrong. What a healing. I just can't wait to get my life in freaking order so I can do this, be a fantastic girlfriend/partner. Meet my Lifetime Playmate. Partner in Crime. Avengers United.
#8. Wow. I was that close. Should've known. Self-expression is a value of mine. I should never hide anything I need or want.
Not even that I wear a retainer every night because I grind my teeth. Sexy, huh. Well...someone out there just might think retainers are cute.
Alright, Jeremy ruminating over. Now that I know how it happened that we were such a great connection and why it didn't go all the way, I can recognize a great potential partner next time and be at cause in committing. That's all I wanted. To understand. I fell into something great accidentally, fell out of it as accidentally. Felt disempowering to not be at cause. But now? I understand.
"If you cause it, you can cure it" is an old medical saying. I have a blueprint now for a lifetime of happiness.
I am content. I can have compassion for myself now for where I frakked up.
Can I share one last thing I've never told anyone?
It's...I don't know WHAT to make of it, except that it was radiant, and I want it to happen again for the rest of my life.
Jeremy was a really amazing human. A total hero.
Arranged his whole life so he can do grassroots political work for underdogs. Goes to D.C. as a totally regular young guy to change laws. He never asked my age or where I grew up, but he wanted to know what charities I volunteered for, how I was using my life to make the world better.
He's a good man. I was behind him 100%. I would have arranged my life to make our partnership #1. I still support his dreams, his vision for the future, and think we could have been fantastically happy in a little green apartment in San Diego riding shotgun in a 25-year old Asian car (I drive one myself and love it), travelling together to the Middle East to fight for their rights and making documentaries. I accepted every part of him and his life and respected him and wanted to be a part of it.*
And I was a queen around him. Just totally at ease, confident, self-expressed, fun empowered. Glowy. He made me the happiest I've ever been in my life. Best sixteen hours ever.
Okay, so that's the part I havent't blogged.
Here's the part I haven't told anyone. Because it's just so...I don't know. To have done this and then been dumped the next morning like a one night stand...too vulnerable of a thing to admit. But I liked who I was, no matter what judgement you have about it and me, so here goes:
When we were together that night, all night, the whole time...he would lay this string of kisses on my body. Worshipful. Totally sacred. And whenever he paused, I would do it back to him. And each single kiss, I thought:
I love you.
*That would be #8. The thing relationship "experts" out there often tell women to hide. That I would be happy to be in the man's life and thrilled to make room for him and give up the Hollywood career and things I'm doing while biding the time until I meet my partner. Because partnership is my value and my #1 committment, and independence is what I do in the meantime to survive in this world. (And I can make dissident guerilla films ANYWHERE.)
If you want to learn the other 11 things men need to have in a relationship in order to marry a woman, TAKE THE COURSE!
It's one of the top five most important things I've ever done. I am SO PROUD of the work I've done and who I can be in the world now for everyone I love.
Lisa Tenzin-Dolma's "Union" 6 of Chalices card from The Glastonbury Tarot Deck
Vigilantes
What's your stance? I'm pro. Obviously.
Catwoman thesis, Pistoleras, Impact self-defense, martial arts a decade ago. I believe in keeping the pack in line by any means.
Catwoman thesis, Pistoleras, Impact self-defense, martial arts a decade ago. I believe in keeping the pack in line by any means.
Embarrassing confession #476
It's not my birthday.
Sometimes I forget that I'm not just talking to myself, that there are people out there READING this stream of consciousness...
Anyway, for the last eight years I've started the b-day countdown three months before my b-day. Trying on the new age, worrying, stressing, picking my life apart for all the things I was supposed to accomplish by that age. You know, because Welles made Citizen Kane at 25, and a ton of people have won Oscars and Gold Medals and been published before they were 30, and surely dozens of people have won the Nobel Peace prize by 35, and if I wasn't going to accomplish any of that than I should AT LEAST have bagged a husband and 2.5 kids by my next b-day.
So...for those of you wishing my a happy b-day...I'll accept it as it is my b-day SEASON. No need for well-wishing again on June 23rd.
Sometimes I forget that I'm not just talking to myself, that there are people out there READING this stream of consciousness...
Anyway, for the last eight years I've started the b-day countdown three months before my b-day. Trying on the new age, worrying, stressing, picking my life apart for all the things I was supposed to accomplish by that age. You know, because Welles made Citizen Kane at 25, and a ton of people have won Oscars and Gold Medals and been published before they were 30, and surely dozens of people have won the Nobel Peace prize by 35, and if I wasn't going to accomplish any of that than I should AT LEAST have bagged a husband and 2.5 kids by my next b-day.
So...for those of you wishing my a happy b-day...I'll accept it as it is my b-day SEASON. No need for well-wishing again on June 23rd.
Saturday, April 26, 2008
Bloodshot eye
Man, my right eye is throbbing. Popped it reading Charles's manifesto against "The Killing Joke."
Taking the last of the PAX classes this weekend. Long day today. Great day. Great insights. Gorgeous weather. Awesome women. Man, I'm going to have such a killer relationship with some lucky guy soon. So happy.
This last one is Celebrating Men and Marriage. I'm not a huge marriage gal. Am a huge monogamy/committment gal. But haven't really dated in years. Pertubes my family and friends and society...thus earning me constant disapproval... which then effects the quality of my relationships with men, my self-esteem, my ability to empower my men and be at cause...
Great class. I'll blog more soonish.
Taking the last of the PAX classes this weekend. Long day today. Great day. Great insights. Gorgeous weather. Awesome women. Man, I'm going to have such a killer relationship with some lucky guy soon. So happy.
This last one is Celebrating Men and Marriage. I'm not a huge marriage gal. Am a huge monogamy/committment gal. But haven't really dated in years. Pertubes my family and friends and society...thus earning me constant disapproval... which then effects the quality of my relationships with men, my self-esteem, my ability to empower my men and be at cause...
Great class. I'll blog more soonish.
Thursday, April 24, 2008
Uwe Boll gotta eat
OMG. The freakin' cursed Ender's Game movie has lost Wolfgang Peterson. Poor poor Orson Scott Card. Will he ever see his masterpiece on the bigscreen? Will he want to if the talback jokesters at AICN have their way and nominate Ratner or Boll to helm?
Could be worse. At least, according to Boll, he's not "a fucking retard" like Michael Bay or making the same shitty movie like Eli Roth.
Hmmmn.
Stay tuned...by the time this movie is made, we'll have a new Hegemon...
By the way, the links above? Totally worth your giggle time, even if they aren't new.
And if you're an aspiring filmmaker, you can always enter The Uwe Boll Movie Challenge!
Hollywood Classifieds
I kid you not. This Hollywood industry ad truly is "standard":
Probably decent pay of $600-$650/wk with standard hours til about 7:30 PM or so.
Going rent for a questionably safe area One Bedroom in Los Angeles? $1600.
Does the above job come with medical benefits? No sirree.
So let's think about this...$2400-$2600 a month. With taxes out, let's average everything and say you take home $1800.
But your low-estimate monthly expenses are:
car insurance: $200
medical insurance: $300
gas: $200
food: $300
RX: $120
cell phone: $60
storage: $150
cable/internet: $100
water/gas: $75
Job related networking, classes, books, parking, PR, gifts, lunches: $500
credit cards: $900
See the problem?
Approximately $4500 with no frills or cushion and living in a mediocre-bad apartment in a mediocre-bad area of town. No vacations, concerts, massages, haircuts, pedicures, clothes, no paid parking space at home...but worse, working in a job from 9-7:30 that would leave me no time for outside networking or creativity.
Yikes. I mean, basic survival in LA is overwhelming and not maintainable for years for me, and doesn't leave room to really advance my career.
If I get two roommates in NoHo, I might be able to pay $700 a month for rent and split water/cable. So if we call basic living expenses $750...I can get monthly expenses to start more in the $2700 range. Without a cushion for car repairs, classes I have to take, the trips up to NoCal to edit, screenwriting contests to enter, the film festivals to enter and hopefully attend...I'd still be going $900 more into debt every month.
Yup. Looks like I need roommates or a 400 square foot studio with a hotpad and better credit.
Happy B-day Lis! This year you're turning 22. Again.
Ah, the glamour of pursuing your dreams. Jealous?
Probably decent pay of $600-$650/wk with standard hours til about 7:30 PM or so.
Going rent for a questionably safe area One Bedroom in Los Angeles? $1600.
Does the above job come with medical benefits? No sirree.
So let's think about this...$2400-$2600 a month. With taxes out, let's average everything and say you take home $1800.
But your low-estimate monthly expenses are:
car insurance: $200
medical insurance: $300
gas: $200
food: $300
RX: $120
cell phone: $60
storage: $150
cable/internet: $100
water/gas: $75
Job related networking, classes, books, parking, PR, gifts, lunches: $500
credit cards: $900
See the problem?
Approximately $4500 with no frills or cushion and living in a mediocre-bad apartment in a mediocre-bad area of town. No vacations, concerts, massages, haircuts, pedicures, clothes, no paid parking space at home...but worse, working in a job from 9-7:30 that would leave me no time for outside networking or creativity.
Yikes. I mean, basic survival in LA is overwhelming and not maintainable for years for me, and doesn't leave room to really advance my career.
If I get two roommates in NoHo, I might be able to pay $700 a month for rent and split water/cable. So if we call basic living expenses $750...I can get monthly expenses to start more in the $2700 range. Without a cushion for car repairs, classes I have to take, the trips up to NoCal to edit, screenwriting contests to enter, the film festivals to enter and hopefully attend...I'd still be going $900 more into debt every month.
Yup. Looks like I need roommates or a 400 square foot studio with a hotpad and better credit.
Happy B-day Lis! This year you're turning 22. Again.
Ah, the glamour of pursuing your dreams. Jealous?
Thursday inspiration
“The man who never makes a mistake always takes orders from one who does. No man or woman who tries to pursue an ideal in his or her own way is without enemies.” -Daisy Bates
"The strongest single factor in prosperity consciousness is self-esteem: believing you can do it, believing you deserve it, believing you will get it." -Jerry Gillies
"The strongest single factor in prosperity consciousness is self-esteem: believing you can do it, believing you deserve it, believing you will get it." -Jerry Gillies
Wednesday, April 23, 2008
Dagnabbit
Went back up north last weekend to edit another day with Todd. Specifically, four scenes that were going to make my head pop like Scanners if I had to nod mutely at another screening about them. Funny how test audience members don't like hearing "I KNOW about that scene, I agree, you're right, but what ELSE didn't you like or understand?!! Move on already for gods' sake before I effing strangle you!!! With my MIND, you midichlorian-challenged kaniggets!!! Fetchez la vache!!!"*
So, I had high hopes we'd fixed two of these issues and rushed to test them on a virgin viewer within hours of limping off the I-5 today. And apparently I WAS a Nazi in my last life, because damn if the last of our tweaking didn't help one iota.
Means I have to do a reshoot. Small. But...important.
Mother pus bucket.
This news upsets my apple cart as a diffuse awareness woman whose to do list is never done, and will not please Todd the single focus male who likes to finish one task well. See? Moviemaking is unsettling to both genders. I know I won't be satisfied until it's done and edited in.
On the plus side, had a fun time visiting my brother and his family. Saw my nieces' first college apartment, and learned some intriguing CSI: Miami gossip from Brian. Apparently TV stars are allowed to be bad with props and thresholds, and incoherent by 11 AM. Mindbloggling (thank you Defamer and Brian for the heads up). And I can't get that Youtube montage of one-liners out of my head..."Yeah!!!"
Caught up with some friends I hadn't seen since before the epic movie-making process began last August. Met a new baby who was already five months old. Managed to refuel my spiritual tank just by marinating in the Sonoma County allergens. Oh, and was given another large bag of books to read by my friends. Glad they still believe in my artistic input capacity.
Always lovely to be home where they KNOW you and believe in you no matter what. I could never live there again as a singleton, and when I DID friends didn't make time for me in their family's lives...but it's amazing to be able to have my social side filled in LA and my spiritual and lifetime friendship tanks replenished just a day's drive away.
Have I mentioned lately how incapable I am of having children? Being an auntie to many is fab, but they would not survive long if I was in charge of their well-being. Either I would go Greek Medea on their ass, or I'd accidentally forget the baby carrier on my car hood and spend the rest of my life wondering if my unconscious was controlled by an evil Heroes Id twin...
* If you've seen my feature film, thank you for taking your valuable time to watch it and give your opinion. Really, it's not you...it's me.
So, I had high hopes we'd fixed two of these issues and rushed to test them on a virgin viewer within hours of limping off the I-5 today. And apparently I WAS a Nazi in my last life, because damn if the last of our tweaking didn't help one iota.
Means I have to do a reshoot. Small. But...important.
Mother pus bucket.
This news upsets my apple cart as a diffuse awareness woman whose to do list is never done, and will not please Todd the single focus male who likes to finish one task well. See? Moviemaking is unsettling to both genders. I know I won't be satisfied until it's done and edited in.
On the plus side, had a fun time visiting my brother and his family. Saw my nieces' first college apartment, and learned some intriguing CSI: Miami gossip from Brian. Apparently TV stars are allowed to be bad with props and thresholds, and incoherent by 11 AM. Mindbloggling (thank you Defamer and Brian for the heads up). And I can't get that Youtube montage of one-liners out of my head..."Yeah!!!"
Caught up with some friends I hadn't seen since before the epic movie-making process began last August. Met a new baby who was already five months old. Managed to refuel my spiritual tank just by marinating in the Sonoma County allergens. Oh, and was given another large bag of books to read by my friends. Glad they still believe in my artistic input capacity.
Always lovely to be home where they KNOW you and believe in you no matter what. I could never live there again as a singleton, and when I DID friends didn't make time for me in their family's lives...but it's amazing to be able to have my social side filled in LA and my spiritual and lifetime friendship tanks replenished just a day's drive away.
Have I mentioned lately how incapable I am of having children? Being an auntie to many is fab, but they would not survive long if I was in charge of their well-being. Either I would go Greek Medea on their ass, or I'd accidentally forget the baby carrier on my car hood and spend the rest of my life wondering if my unconscious was controlled by an evil Heroes Id twin...
* If you've seen my feature film, thank you for taking your valuable time to watch it and give your opinion. Really, it's not you...it's me.
Monday, April 21, 2008
Crikey
de·spon·den·cy (dĭ-spŏn'dən-sē)
n. Depression of spirits from loss of hope, confidence, or courage; dejection.
Well, thanks a lot Jake. Guess that's pretty accurate.
Drat. Damn blog readers reading me better than I know myself. ;)
Funny. Alison Armstrong just did a whole new seminar CD on people who've given up on love (love of jobs, hobbies, organizations, friends, romantic partners) and how the root is a failure that leads to the absence of hope.
Field-testing the PAX materials once again, apparently. Wish I'd quit that and graduate already, ha ha...
n. Depression of spirits from loss of hope, confidence, or courage; dejection.
Well, thanks a lot Jake. Guess that's pretty accurate.
Drat. Damn blog readers reading me better than I know myself. ;)
Funny. Alison Armstrong just did a whole new seminar CD on people who've given up on love (love of jobs, hobbies, organizations, friends, romantic partners) and how the root is a failure that leads to the absence of hope.
Field-testing the PAX materials once again, apparently. Wish I'd quit that and graduate already, ha ha...
Sunday, April 20, 2008
Location, location
North Hollywood with roommate: 1 vote
San Diego 2 votes
Davis 1 vote
Sonoma County 1 vote
Paris 2 votes
Palm Springs 1 vote
Carlsbad 1 vote
Vancouver 1 vote
San Diego 2 votes
Davis 1 vote
Sonoma County 1 vote
Paris 2 votes
Palm Springs 1 vote
Carlsbad 1 vote
Vancouver 1 vote
Friday, April 18, 2008
I Want to Believe
I already believe in X-Files, I'm fine with the sequel title. That poster of Mulder's was iconic, and anyone who's bitching about it is just lame.
Okay, I want to believe in love and partnership. I really really do. Remember that FEELING I described here? That thing of watching Jeremy wipe the drool off my arm and feeling the fluttering of a thousand birds' wings in my heart? (I know, it doesn't sound romantic, but the feeling in my heart was SO TRUE).
I got a LITTLE tiny flutter tonight. First time since July. Maybe, like...20 birds? But it was soooo good!
I was watching "The Office", and Jim said he'd bought an engagment ring for Pam a week after they started dating. And he was so happy.
Oh my god. That was great.
Okay. I'm officially not dead inside. My feelings are still hurt on top of my chest, a little ashy and shriveled up like an alien, but there's a tiny little heartlight inside. E.T. might just make it if someone could reach out and touch him...
So okay, I'm still hurt and feeling unconfident and what feelings of mine to trust and whether Jeremy's awful-feeling actions in the morning and thereafter really nullify the things he said and his actions the night before. I know what the conventional wisdom is for judging men (actions not words), but I know what I have to believe to ever have self-esteem again. If I have to lie to myself about him being a good man and things between us being authentic the night before and not just about him getting laid and tossing me out, well, you know what? People have lied to themselves about worse. And who knows, maybe it's true. I'll never know regardless. Might as well pick whatever can make me feel less terrible and powerless for not sticking up for myself or defining better boundaries that wouldn't lead to me being treated poorly afterwards while I trusted him and believed he'd do better by me eventually.
And I deserve to have one nice memory god dammit. I mean, I'm not lying to myself about killing Jews in WW2 or making children work in a factory, so eff off critical voice inside my head. Besides, next time I meet someone I fancy, even if it does take another five years, I will be ready with healthy boundaries in place and great communication skills and knowing what I need to be happy. And maybe he'll buy an engagement ring to carry around with him a week after he meets me...
Like Michael said on The Office tonight: "I'm ready to get hurt again."
Also, started another blog, specifically about PAX and Trusting Men. Because I find a reason to appreciate men everyday, and I don't want to be warbling about it here all the time.
Okay, I want to believe in love and partnership. I really really do. Remember that FEELING I described here? That thing of watching Jeremy wipe the drool off my arm and feeling the fluttering of a thousand birds' wings in my heart? (I know, it doesn't sound romantic, but the feeling in my heart was SO TRUE).
I got a LITTLE tiny flutter tonight. First time since July. Maybe, like...20 birds? But it was soooo good!
I was watching "The Office", and Jim said he'd bought an engagment ring for Pam a week after they started dating. And he was so happy.
Oh my god. That was great.
Okay. I'm officially not dead inside. My feelings are still hurt on top of my chest, a little ashy and shriveled up like an alien, but there's a tiny little heartlight inside. E.T. might just make it if someone could reach out and touch him...
So okay, I'm still hurt and feeling unconfident and what feelings of mine to trust and whether Jeremy's awful-feeling actions in the morning and thereafter really nullify the things he said and his actions the night before. I know what the conventional wisdom is for judging men (actions not words), but I know what I have to believe to ever have self-esteem again. If I have to lie to myself about him being a good man and things between us being authentic the night before and not just about him getting laid and tossing me out, well, you know what? People have lied to themselves about worse. And who knows, maybe it's true. I'll never know regardless. Might as well pick whatever can make me feel less terrible and powerless for not sticking up for myself or defining better boundaries that wouldn't lead to me being treated poorly afterwards while I trusted him and believed he'd do better by me eventually.
And I deserve to have one nice memory god dammit. I mean, I'm not lying to myself about killing Jews in WW2 or making children work in a factory, so eff off critical voice inside my head. Besides, next time I meet someone I fancy, even if it does take another five years, I will be ready with healthy boundaries in place and great communication skills and knowing what I need to be happy. And maybe he'll buy an engagement ring to carry around with him a week after he meets me...
Like Michael said on The Office tonight: "I'm ready to get hurt again."
Also, started another blog, specifically about PAX and Trusting Men. Because I find a reason to appreciate men everyday, and I don't want to be warbling about it here all the time.
Thursday, April 17, 2008
Elusive happiness
"Happiness is not in our circumstance but in ourselves. It is not
something we see, like a rainbow, or feel, like the heat of a fire.
Happiness is something we are." ~John B. Sheerin
I think I'm normally a fairly happy, sunny person (if that can co-exist with cynicism and intelligence). But lately I've been miserable trying to figure out what will make me happy. And since I happen to know I'm not alone, maybe this will be applicable to some of you out there in cyberland as well.
I've not been able to make a large decision to save my life. My lease is up, I need a job, and I can't seem to picture ANY future that will please me. Never had this predicament before.
Cripes, I don't know. I just need to scale back, figure out a way to make my rent $800 a month without being a live-in prostitute,, find a crap job that pays the bills but doesn't suck so much of my soul that I can't write at night. And then if someone could just arrange a time-spatial anomaly for me so that I could blink and already be sorted and moved, that would be fabulous.
I know I thrive in 85 degree weather, and love living in a complex with an underused pool and a designated parking space. AND NO CRYING BABIES OR SMOKERS UNLESS THEY WANT TO DIE BY MY HAND. Being nearish the water is great, but I much prefer the San Diego bay to the LA beaches inhabited with prancing tourists and local yokels who think there are audition cameras hidden in every palm tree. Yuck.
I picked up some rental and job newspapers while in San Diego last week. Spent some time chatting with a hunky waiter who moved down from LA and bought his own condo and thought I'd be a great match for SD. Hmmmmm. I don't know, it just feels more me. More casual, Nocal vibe. Focused on the right things. Calm. Less materialistic and full of itself. But enough going on that it's not a two-star town.
Not sure if it has any irony (Charlie says I need to always live in a city with irony). But if a city is dripping with sincerity, does it need irony?
The other nice thing is, it's a small enough town that I become a hot babe again. In LA I'm ignored for the next model/actress nineteen-year-old getting off the bus, but in San Diego I get admired and asked out. A lot, judging by the last two trips this spring. Which is really important to me because Partnership is one of my values, and I've got to focus on that in my life.
Don't know if I can respect, support, believe in a man who's in LA to get rich and famous. Makes my stomach turn. I want to be with a good man who has values and focus and morals and gives back to his community and lives with small footprints. And is a nightowl who wants to knock boots two or three times a day. Hard to come by in LA.
Oh, and regarding San Diego men and their willingness to date a woman from LA? Not one of them blinked. Totally volunteered that they're in LA all the time, and assumed I'd have no problem coming down to see them (I don't. I freaking love driving that amount...find it incredibly meditative and empowering). Thought, as I do, that 120 miles was no big impediment to love.
Color me totally unimpressed by Jeremy. What a lousy excuse not to be in a spectacular relationship with me having awesome sex. More and more, I'm agreeing with Charles that he was a wuss. Time to start paying attention to what my menfolk think, and they didn't like him. Guess I need to hear why. Gee, I don't know, was it fucking and dumping me the next morning with no warning and not returning my phone calls? Yeah. He was a prince. Oh Willoughby!
something we see, like a rainbow, or feel, like the heat of a fire.
Happiness is something we are." ~John B. Sheerin
I think I'm normally a fairly happy, sunny person (if that can co-exist with cynicism and intelligence). But lately I've been miserable trying to figure out what will make me happy. And since I happen to know I'm not alone, maybe this will be applicable to some of you out there in cyberland as well.
I've not been able to make a large decision to save my life. My lease is up, I need a job, and I can't seem to picture ANY future that will please me. Never had this predicament before.
Cripes, I don't know. I just need to scale back, figure out a way to make my rent $800 a month without being a live-in prostitute,, find a crap job that pays the bills but doesn't suck so much of my soul that I can't write at night. And then if someone could just arrange a time-spatial anomaly for me so that I could blink and already be sorted and moved, that would be fabulous.
I know I thrive in 85 degree weather, and love living in a complex with an underused pool and a designated parking space. AND NO CRYING BABIES OR SMOKERS UNLESS THEY WANT TO DIE BY MY HAND. Being nearish the water is great, but I much prefer the San Diego bay to the LA beaches inhabited with prancing tourists and local yokels who think there are audition cameras hidden in every palm tree. Yuck.
I picked up some rental and job newspapers while in San Diego last week. Spent some time chatting with a hunky waiter who moved down from LA and bought his own condo and thought I'd be a great match for SD. Hmmmmm. I don't know, it just feels more me. More casual, Nocal vibe. Focused on the right things. Calm. Less materialistic and full of itself. But enough going on that it's not a two-star town.
Not sure if it has any irony (Charlie says I need to always live in a city with irony). But if a city is dripping with sincerity, does it need irony?
The other nice thing is, it's a small enough town that I become a hot babe again. In LA I'm ignored for the next model/actress nineteen-year-old getting off the bus, but in San Diego I get admired and asked out. A lot, judging by the last two trips this spring. Which is really important to me because Partnership is one of my values, and I've got to focus on that in my life.
Don't know if I can respect, support, believe in a man who's in LA to get rich and famous. Makes my stomach turn. I want to be with a good man who has values and focus and morals and gives back to his community and lives with small footprints. And is a nightowl who wants to knock boots two or three times a day. Hard to come by in LA.
Oh, and regarding San Diego men and their willingness to date a woman from LA? Not one of them blinked. Totally volunteered that they're in LA all the time, and assumed I'd have no problem coming down to see them (I don't. I freaking love driving that amount...find it incredibly meditative and empowering). Thought, as I do, that 120 miles was no big impediment to love.
Color me totally unimpressed by Jeremy. What a lousy excuse not to be in a spectacular relationship with me having awesome sex. More and more, I'm agreeing with Charles that he was a wuss. Time to start paying attention to what my menfolk think, and they didn't like him. Guess I need to hear why. Gee, I don't know, was it fucking and dumping me the next morning with no warning and not returning my phone calls? Yeah. He was a prince. Oh Willoughby!
Wednesday, April 16, 2008
Commune lyrics
Teamed up with my awesomely talented kick-ass punk-rocker friend/sister in the trenches Jenn Oberle to write two songs based on the "Commune" screenplay. We're including them in the film, and Brenda (nurse sis) is convinced we're as good as Oscar-winning "Once". Which is why we love having family members around who support us unconditionally. :)
The first song is "Take This All the Way", music by Jenn Oberle, lyrics by Jenn and me. In the movie there are two acoustic versions, one sung by Jenn and the other a duet with our leads, Dave Lago and Chauntal Lewis.
Take a listen on Jenn's Myspace site. Fourth song down.
The other song is "Walk Away", a very cool Peaches kinda punk song that Jenn sounds amazing on. She wrote the music, and I wrote 98% of the lyrics. I wish you could hear her sing it, she fucking rocks it:
Walk Away
You said “You’ve got to be careful 'cuz
Bad things happen to girls
You say the word and I’ll come rescue you”
But how'm I supposed to save myself?
I told you I don’t give it on the first date
You smiled and said “It’s time for our second date”
But we both know you’ll never call me again
Either choice I make I lose
Chorus:
Don’t need another knight in shining armor
Don’t want to know your name
Just want to feel for once what a guy feels
And then I walk away
And then I walk away
Pretty words from pretty lips
Heartfelt sighs about relationships
But once your hip’s on mine
You’ve already left me far behind
(Chorus)
So tired of being so damn prudish
Don’t want to go to bed alone
God give me the Goddamnned courage
To get the fuck away from you once and for all
Never look back
Never look back
And never look back
And never look back
(Chorus)
Tuesday, April 15, 2008
Lyrics Schmiricks
For years now I've been singing the wrong lyrics. Drunk. Usually with Lago.
Wow. Way off base. Huh. It's really pretty. You know. The actual words.
What the hell was I singing??
"Black"
Hey... oooh...
Sheets of empty canvas, untouched sheets of clay
Were laid spread out before me as her body once did.
All five horizons revolved around her soul
As the earth to the sun
Now the air I tasted and breathed has taken a turn
Ooh, and all I taught her was everything
Ooh, I know she gave me all that she wore
And now my bitter hands chafe beneath the clouds
Of what was everything.
Oh, the pictures have all been washed in black, tattooed everything...
I take a walk outside
I'm surrounded by some kids at play
I can feel their laughter, so why do I sear?
Oh, and twisted thoughts that spin round my head
I'm spinning, oh, I'm spinning
How quick the sun can drop away
And now my bitter hands cradle broken glass
Of what was everything?
All the pictures have all been washed in black, tattooed everything...
All the love gone bad turned my world to black
Tattooed all I see, all that I am, all I'll be... yeah...
Uh huh... uh huh... ooh...
I know someday you'll have a beautiful life,
I know you'll be a sun in somebody else's sky, but why
Why, why can't it be, why can't it be mine
Aah... uuh..
Too doo doo too, too doo doo [many times until fade]
Wow. Way off base. Huh. It's really pretty. You know. The actual words.
What the hell was I singing??
"Black"
Hey... oooh...
Sheets of empty canvas, untouched sheets of clay
Were laid spread out before me as her body once did.
All five horizons revolved around her soul
As the earth to the sun
Now the air I tasted and breathed has taken a turn
Ooh, and all I taught her was everything
Ooh, I know she gave me all that she wore
And now my bitter hands chafe beneath the clouds
Of what was everything.
Oh, the pictures have all been washed in black, tattooed everything...
I take a walk outside
I'm surrounded by some kids at play
I can feel their laughter, so why do I sear?
Oh, and twisted thoughts that spin round my head
I'm spinning, oh, I'm spinning
How quick the sun can drop away
And now my bitter hands cradle broken glass
Of what was everything?
All the pictures have all been washed in black, tattooed everything...
All the love gone bad turned my world to black
Tattooed all I see, all that I am, all I'll be... yeah...
Uh huh... uh huh... ooh...
I know someday you'll have a beautiful life,
I know you'll be a sun in somebody else's sky, but why
Why, why can't it be, why can't it be mine
Aah... uuh..
Too doo doo too, too doo doo [many times until fade]
Wednesday, April 09, 2008
Complications ensue
I was talking tonight with Charlie, a dear brillilant friend of mine from high school who's been through hell with me (he's in Mom's Cancer as the one who gets Mom the prestigous doctor who saves her life). Charlie was helping me focus my life plan, kindly asking me to reconsider having biological children, and...may have convinced me to keep my baby grand piano.
This problem is not new to any of my close friends or family, but is certainly new to my blogreaders. See, I have this very expensive albatross around my tiny porcelain single-lady neck. It's not easy to find an apartment that I can afford that affords me the luxury of keeping the baby I've had since I was nine.
I studied classical piano for 12 years, and it's not really something I talk about. It's perhaps the only thing I do JUST FOR ME. I don't perform for people like a trained seal. Piano is my only pure emotional outlet for my loneliness and longing and melancholy; and as mom said, I make the piano weep. (Again, picture Marion Dashwood). That's not something I share.
Besides, growing up I found playing Russian dirges and endless Liszt wasn't really a popularity contest winner among my peers.
But music is in my blood, and of course it informs all my writing and filmmaking. Particularly my editing choices. But truly, even when I write a script, one reason I'm praised for nailing mood and dialogue is because in my head I'm already hearing the musicality of the scene.
It's been an accepted conclusion with my next move (my lease is up), I'd be selling the baby. Because I have to get rid of half my stuff yet AGAIN, and this time I actually want to. I want to scale down, live more simply, and be in a space I can lock up and leave to travel or go make movies or join the Peace Corps or whatever. I'm done with being owned by my family heirlooms. I don't want to be the ancestral memory keeper anymore. And boy that piano is filled with pain.
But Charlie, being a classical pianist and proud owner of a Steinway upright, reminded me of fun times we had gathered around the piano back in high school. He remembered me just learning the Twin Peaks theme song and playing it at one of my theme parties. Gosh we were happy back then. He talked about the sound a concert piano makes, and how even if I only play it three or four times a year it could be worth it to my soul to keep it.
And the old family joke about me: that I could always sleep under or on my piano.
His new take? "Maybe it's like a Spartan shield. You either come home with it or on it."
Zut alors. He had to go and challenge my warriorhood.
Sigh. Now I have to dig deep and find my inner bulldog.
It's not enough to be a struggling, dissident female artist in the most competitive, misogynist, high-stakes industry in the world. Now I have to win carrying the weight of my underdog constituents and a 500 pound baby.
Well, if it's time for a female winner on The Biggest Loser, maybe it's time for Hollywood to make room for one more y chromosome-impaired auteur.
Hoo-ra masterchief. Bring it.
By the way, Charlie's other insights over the course of us drinking and eating dinner together via cell phone were equally compelling. As he said, sometimes we all just need to think a little more like Elinore Dashwood. He also reminded me of Juptiter's machinations in Cymbeline:
Whom best I love I cross; to make my gift,
The more delay’d, delighted.
I promise, gods. My delight would be infinite. Now.
This problem is not new to any of my close friends or family, but is certainly new to my blogreaders. See, I have this very expensive albatross around my tiny porcelain single-lady neck. It's not easy to find an apartment that I can afford that affords me the luxury of keeping the baby I've had since I was nine.
I studied classical piano for 12 years, and it's not really something I talk about. It's perhaps the only thing I do JUST FOR ME. I don't perform for people like a trained seal. Piano is my only pure emotional outlet for my loneliness and longing and melancholy; and as mom said, I make the piano weep. (Again, picture Marion Dashwood). That's not something I share.
Besides, growing up I found playing Russian dirges and endless Liszt wasn't really a popularity contest winner among my peers.
But music is in my blood, and of course it informs all my writing and filmmaking. Particularly my editing choices. But truly, even when I write a script, one reason I'm praised for nailing mood and dialogue is because in my head I'm already hearing the musicality of the scene.
It's been an accepted conclusion with my next move (my lease is up), I'd be selling the baby. Because I have to get rid of half my stuff yet AGAIN, and this time I actually want to. I want to scale down, live more simply, and be in a space I can lock up and leave to travel or go make movies or join the Peace Corps or whatever. I'm done with being owned by my family heirlooms. I don't want to be the ancestral memory keeper anymore. And boy that piano is filled with pain.
But Charlie, being a classical pianist and proud owner of a Steinway upright, reminded me of fun times we had gathered around the piano back in high school. He remembered me just learning the Twin Peaks theme song and playing it at one of my theme parties. Gosh we were happy back then. He talked about the sound a concert piano makes, and how even if I only play it three or four times a year it could be worth it to my soul to keep it.
And the old family joke about me: that I could always sleep under or on my piano.
His new take? "Maybe it's like a Spartan shield. You either come home with it or on it."
Zut alors. He had to go and challenge my warriorhood.
Sigh. Now I have to dig deep and find my inner bulldog.
It's not enough to be a struggling, dissident female artist in the most competitive, misogynist, high-stakes industry in the world. Now I have to win carrying the weight of my underdog constituents and a 500 pound baby.
Well, if it's time for a female winner on The Biggest Loser, maybe it's time for Hollywood to make room for one more y chromosome-impaired auteur.
Hoo-ra masterchief. Bring it.
By the way, Charlie's other insights over the course of us drinking and eating dinner together via cell phone were equally compelling. As he said, sometimes we all just need to think a little more like Elinore Dashwood. He also reminded me of Juptiter's machinations in Cymbeline:
Whom best I love I cross; to make my gift,
The more delay’d, delighted.
I promise, gods. My delight would be infinite. Now.
Tuesday, April 08, 2008
Vacation!
Sort of. Going to be looong days of class info and long driving on two of the three days, but nonetheless I will be in sunny (hopefully) San Diego this weekend. At the end of it I will be only one class away from a full graduate of the PAX program for Understanding Men and Women. Pretty freaking cool. I'm looking forward to the positive energy, the learning, the other cool like-minded ladies, planning my life...
Ah, San Diego. A town I once would have loved to live in that now turns my stomach to churning goo. So emotionally loaded with failure last summer; love and work.
Time to take the bull by the cajones and go back to the Gaslamp District for no reasons but food and education.
No Comic-con for me this summer, first time since what, 2001? Something like that. (Charles??) But I said I wasn't going back until I had something professional to sell, preferably Pistoleras...All good things come to an end. In this case, it's my extended adolescence. Time to graduate. Next!
Ah, San Diego. A town I once would have loved to live in that now turns my stomach to churning goo. So emotionally loaded with failure last summer; love and work.
Time to take the bull by the cajones and go back to the Gaslamp District for no reasons but food and education.
No Comic-con for me this summer, first time since what, 2001? Something like that. (Charles??) But I said I wasn't going back until I had something professional to sell, preferably Pistoleras...All good things come to an end. In this case, it's my extended adolescence. Time to graduate. Next!
Saturday, April 05, 2008
Wednesday, April 02, 2008
Tuesday, April 01, 2008
Monday, March 31, 2008
Post partum
Well, not that you can do anything about it, or that I can do anything about it, but thought I might as well 'fess up that I'm in a severe depression. Basically all of March I've been sleeping 15 hours a day waking up around 4 pm from terrible nightmares, or laying on my couch crying. No particular reason I can identify, just general feeling overwhelm and worthless and unloved and wishing I wouldn't wake up.
I haven't been seeing friends or talking to them on the phone particularly for the last month, but I happened to somehow leave my house for breakfast last week to see a gfriend I hadn't seen in over a year...and she correctly diagnosed me: post partum. Pretty much kicked in the minute I was done with the movie. Pretty funny that me, the one who doesn't want kids, gets post partum from her art.
My friend's an artist, and said she sees it all the time and has been through it herself. Spending an intense, workaholic amount of time on one project, then having it suddenly done can make you feel really helpless and awful. Especially when you have to show it to the world and wait for judgement and approval and money, and it's your soul out there everyone's shitting on.
God, and the people who have seen the movie...everyone wants to know which scenes are real and if I've been sexually abused. I guess it's a compliment that the movie is so authentic and scary, but it's also weirdly sexist...does anyone ask Michael Bay if he's seen a robot?
I think I also suffered a few weird blows because I haven't had many friends interested in what I've been doing every waking minute since August. They pretty much could care less, which makes me question my friendships in LA. And then I had several men in a row use the idea of wanting to see the film as an obnoxious way to come on to me when I was really vulnerable, again without any interest in the work itself that I've poured myself into. That really freaking hurts, and makes me second guess myself, and what men want from me, and whether it's worth even trying...
I guess I need a new focus or project. But that involves figuring out if I should move away from LA, how I'm going to support myself now, why no one seems to find any of my skills paycheckworthy, why I'm so retarded that I can't seem to take care of myself...fixing all of that is not as interesting to me as going to my big ass fluffy bed and praying the universe just let's me out of all this nonsense.
Then again, Battlestar is ending, and it would really suck not to be able to tell mom how it finished and who the last cylon is. So that's a very good reason to stay on the planet and figure out how to make my life work and have some small measure of meaning.
Last week was a tiny bit better. Every other day I got out of the apartment for a couple hours for one chore or two. The sunshine really stung my eyes, and I could barely look people in the eye. I'm fragile, I guess.
Maybe this will be the week I have the willpower to stop hitting snooze.
I haven't been seeing friends or talking to them on the phone particularly for the last month, but I happened to somehow leave my house for breakfast last week to see a gfriend I hadn't seen in over a year...and she correctly diagnosed me: post partum. Pretty much kicked in the minute I was done with the movie. Pretty funny that me, the one who doesn't want kids, gets post partum from her art.
My friend's an artist, and said she sees it all the time and has been through it herself. Spending an intense, workaholic amount of time on one project, then having it suddenly done can make you feel really helpless and awful. Especially when you have to show it to the world and wait for judgement and approval and money, and it's your soul out there everyone's shitting on.
God, and the people who have seen the movie...everyone wants to know which scenes are real and if I've been sexually abused. I guess it's a compliment that the movie is so authentic and scary, but it's also weirdly sexist...does anyone ask Michael Bay if he's seen a robot?
I think I also suffered a few weird blows because I haven't had many friends interested in what I've been doing every waking minute since August. They pretty much could care less, which makes me question my friendships in LA. And then I had several men in a row use the idea of wanting to see the film as an obnoxious way to come on to me when I was really vulnerable, again without any interest in the work itself that I've poured myself into. That really freaking hurts, and makes me second guess myself, and what men want from me, and whether it's worth even trying...
I guess I need a new focus or project. But that involves figuring out if I should move away from LA, how I'm going to support myself now, why no one seems to find any of my skills paycheckworthy, why I'm so retarded that I can't seem to take care of myself...fixing all of that is not as interesting to me as going to my big ass fluffy bed and praying the universe just let's me out of all this nonsense.
Then again, Battlestar is ending, and it would really suck not to be able to tell mom how it finished and who the last cylon is. So that's a very good reason to stay on the planet and figure out how to make my life work and have some small measure of meaning.
Last week was a tiny bit better. Every other day I got out of the apartment for a couple hours for one chore or two. The sunshine really stung my eyes, and I could barely look people in the eye. I'm fragile, I guess.
Maybe this will be the week I have the willpower to stop hitting snooze.
BSG
Five days until season 4. Just watched Battlestar Galactica: Revelations, and saw the ad for Battlestar Galactica: Phenomenon where Joss Whedon is interviewed saying BSG is the best show he's ever seen.
My geekbumps sprouted geekbumps. God, mom would've loved hearing that.
Did you know, if it weren't for that pesky strike, Joss was scheduled to direct one of the last BSGs?
Sigh.
UPDATE: Watched Phenomenon. It was awesome. I love Starbuck too. Oh my god, can't wait until Friday. Is anyone doing a viewing party?
My geekbumps sprouted geekbumps. God, mom would've loved hearing that.
Did you know, if it weren't for that pesky strike, Joss was scheduled to direct one of the last BSGs?
Sigh.
UPDATE: Watched Phenomenon. It was awesome. I love Starbuck too. Oh my god, can't wait until Friday. Is anyone doing a viewing party?
Sunday, March 30, 2008
There it is
Had the second best meal of my life, Friday night at The Grove at Morel's. French, of course. Lamb Osso Bucco with White Bean Cassoulet.
Holy effing Zeus. It was all I could do not to moan at the table.
It helped that I was already tipsy from drinking half a Bellini. French food absolutely must be ravished with whatever level of alchohol gets you tipsy. For me, half-an-anything.
I sat alone outside in my bright pink dress, finished reading "Eat, Pray, Love" and watched all the people strolling and the fountain show with music. It was lovely.
My favorite part was the way the handsome male server brought the dish out. He set it down with the sweet, cocksure attitude of a man who knows he's bringing a woman ecstacy. He looked soooo happy as he observed me, then cautioned me the clay pot was too hot. Ahhhhh, a protecter and provider. Bliss.
And then later the molten chocolate mousse souffle, accompanied with a delightful little grin as he begged me to enjoy it. Deliciooooousness. Such serious business for him, pleasuring a single woman who loves consuming French food. Fantastic. This type of man is who I'm looking to share my life with.
If you don't live in LA, this recipe appears to be a dang close approximation. Good luck; it's got more steps and ingredients than I want to play with. But I'm just practical that way. $22 at a gorgeous restaurant versus my time and $40 at the grocery store says I'm headed right back to Morel's for a public orgasm...the heart wants what the heart wants.
Holy effing Zeus. It was all I could do not to moan at the table.
It helped that I was already tipsy from drinking half a Bellini. French food absolutely must be ravished with whatever level of alchohol gets you tipsy. For me, half-an-anything.
I sat alone outside in my bright pink dress, finished reading "Eat, Pray, Love" and watched all the people strolling and the fountain show with music. It was lovely.
My favorite part was the way the handsome male server brought the dish out. He set it down with the sweet, cocksure attitude of a man who knows he's bringing a woman ecstacy. He looked soooo happy as he observed me, then cautioned me the clay pot was too hot. Ahhhhh, a protecter and provider. Bliss.
And then later the molten chocolate mousse souffle, accompanied with a delightful little grin as he begged me to enjoy it. Deliciooooousness. Such serious business for him, pleasuring a single woman who loves consuming French food. Fantastic. This type of man is who I'm looking to share my life with.
If you don't live in LA, this recipe appears to be a dang close approximation. Good luck; it's got more steps and ingredients than I want to play with. But I'm just practical that way. $22 at a gorgeous restaurant versus my time and $40 at the grocery store says I'm headed right back to Morel's for a public orgasm...the heart wants what the heart wants.
Someone's got big brass ones
This article is fantastic. And completely true. Glad someone decided to pay attention to the BS of Master Cleanse, drugs, working out in Hollywood. And my new favorite sentence ever? The last one in the article.
"There's no straight guy in the world who knows the difference between a size 14 and a size 4."
- Gunnar Peterson, celebrity trainer
"There's no straight guy in the world who knows the difference between a size 14 and a size 4."
- Gunnar Peterson, celebrity trainer
Saturday, March 29, 2008
Friday, March 28, 2008
Love advice from Rori Raye
This is hard, true stuff...at least I find it hard, with all my years of caregiving for others. But it feels great if you do it, and it's a warning sign to pay attention to if not...
Until you know where a relationship is really at - that it's real, that marriage is on the table, that you feel confident, secure, committed,that you feel happy in it nd relaxed, don't do ANYTHING that feels or looks like "Boy" energy as far as he's concerned.
Use your Boy energy to go out and make a million dollars and help save the world. Use your Boy energy to take YOURSELF out for a great evening, a concert, a show, a dinner. Use your Boy energy to ACCOMPLISH something for YOU.
Let a man be the boy energy in your relationship.
So instead of GIVING - let's think of this as RADIATING.
"Girl" energy radiates - love, warmth, peace, sensuality, fun - all the great stuff you want to GIVE to him.
So, if you're just BEING in Girl energy ALL THE TIME with him, you'll be RADIATING and GIVING all the time.
You'll be open, emotionally available when he's around, warm and loving - all states of BEING that don't necessarily mean you have to DO anything about them.
You just ARE.
And when he's around you like that - he gets the message 24/7 that you love him, respect him, and accept him - just as he is.
He'll feel inspired to give to you without feeling afraid that you'll REJECT him.
He'll give to you, and then what will automatically happen is you'll RADIATE even more out of your heart, you'll thank him with your smile and appreciation.
And this is PLENTY giving!
Where we all got steered wrong is in the DEFINITION of giving.
The trick of giving to a man is in giving him what makes him feel good to receive - not what makes us feel good to give.
And the best gift you can give a man is to feel happy.
To let him make you happy.
- Rori Ray www.HaveTheRelationshipYouWant.com
Until you know where a relationship is really at - that it's real, that marriage is on the table, that you feel confident, secure, committed,that you feel happy in it nd relaxed, don't do ANYTHING that feels or looks like "Boy" energy as far as he's concerned.
Use your Boy energy to go out and make a million dollars and help save the world. Use your Boy energy to take YOURSELF out for a great evening, a concert, a show, a dinner. Use your Boy energy to ACCOMPLISH something for YOU.
Let a man be the boy energy in your relationship.
So instead of GIVING - let's think of this as RADIATING.
"Girl" energy radiates - love, warmth, peace, sensuality, fun - all the great stuff you want to GIVE to him.
So, if you're just BEING in Girl energy ALL THE TIME with him, you'll be RADIATING and GIVING all the time.
You'll be open, emotionally available when he's around, warm and loving - all states of BEING that don't necessarily mean you have to DO anything about them.
You just ARE.
And when he's around you like that - he gets the message 24/7 that you love him, respect him, and accept him - just as he is.
He'll feel inspired to give to you without feeling afraid that you'll REJECT him.
He'll give to you, and then what will automatically happen is you'll RADIATE even more out of your heart, you'll thank him with your smile and appreciation.
And this is PLENTY giving!
Where we all got steered wrong is in the DEFINITION of giving.
The trick of giving to a man is in giving him what makes him feel good to receive - not what makes us feel good to give.
And the best gift you can give a man is to feel happy.
To let him make you happy.
- Rori Ray www.HaveTheRelationshipYouWant.com
Happy Birthday Viagra
Ten years young. Nine Viagra tablets are prescribed every second, according to ABC News.
And still no little blue pill for women.
I've never dated anyone I knew using a prescription for performance, but I'm thinking I better get an emergency bottle for my nightstand (see past concerns on "LA men/low libidos").
And still no little blue pill for women.
I've never dated anyone I knew using a prescription for performance, but I'm thinking I better get an emergency bottle for my nightstand (see past concerns on "LA men/low libidos").
How do YOU sleep?
Interesting article about what your preferred sleep position says about your personality. As you can see from the pic above, I'm a Starfish. But I'm equal parts Yearner. I think I've grown into the Starfish just since last summer. Weird.
What are you?
What are you?
Thursday, March 27, 2008
Advice from Yoda
From Maria Forleo, one of my many weekly ezines:
Here's 5 reason's why you need to stop "trying" to do anything.
1. Trying keeps you constipated and stuck.
If you're sitting down, I want you to try to stand up. Go ahead. TRY to stand up. If you're following the direction, you should look...well...constipated. You're probably stuck somewhere between sitting and standing with a slightly, um, strained look on your face. Whenever you "try" to do anything, you're undermining your ability to just make things happen. When you remove the word "try", you can just do it. There's immediacy, power and action at your service.
2. Trying gives you permission to quit on yourself.
If you tell yourself you're going to "try" to lose weight, do you think you'll be successful? Probably not. When you "try" to do anything, whether you realize it or not, you're giving yourself permission to quit. And having the "backdoor open" on any new venture is a surefire way to let yourself down when the going gets tough. Instead, get clear on what you intend to do and just do it. You'll be far more likely to produce what you say you want.
3. Trying makes you "flaky."
Did you ever have a friend that "tried" to make it to a party and never showed? Anytime someone tells me they'll "try" to come somewhere, I know they won't make it. And to be honest, when someone say's they'll "try to be there" enough times, I stop asking. They get slotted into the flaky, not count-on-able category. It's much better to simply say yes or no. And if you're really unsure, be transparent and let people know what your circumstances are. This way your "try" will have honestly and validity behind it.
4. Trying erodes your trust in yourself.
After you "try" enough times and fail, you have no trust in YOU. When you don't trust yourself, it's very difficult to make more money, grow your business and have the kind of magical life you DESERVE. Why? Because whether you realize it or not, your success in life hinges on your ability to give and keep your word. When you give your word and keep it consistently, you gain a tremendous amount of personal power. Then you can trust YOURSELF to make things happen.
5. Trying makes Yoda sad. Please be kind.
Even though he's tiny, wrinkly and green, Yoda's got feelings too. When you "try", you shove Yoda's priceless Jedi wisdom back in his face. Sources tell me his feelings get so hurt that he sits on the couch and eats an entire pint of Ben & Jerry's Mint Cookie Chip ice cream. In case you didn't know, Yoda is lactose intolerant. It's not a happy evening for him. So if none of the other reasons are compelling enough for you, please stop "trying" for Yoda's sake. OK :)?
Remember, the first step in any transformation is awareness. The fastest way to stop "trying" is start noticing all the ways you do! Then it becomes easy to shift out of "try" and into powerful action.
WANT TO USE THIS ARTICLE IN YOUR E-ZINE OR WEB SITE? You can, as long as you include this complete blurb with it: Lifestyle entrepreneur and bestselling author Marie Forleo, publishes the weekly ezine 'The Good Life Secrets' helping women entrepreneurs be RICH, HAPPY and HOT. If you're ready to make more money, grow your business and have more fun in your relationships and life, get your FREE advice now at www.marieforleo.com
Here's 5 reason's why you need to stop "trying" to do anything.
1. Trying keeps you constipated and stuck.
If you're sitting down, I want you to try to stand up. Go ahead. TRY to stand up. If you're following the direction, you should look...well...constipated. You're probably stuck somewhere between sitting and standing with a slightly, um, strained look on your face. Whenever you "try" to do anything, you're undermining your ability to just make things happen. When you remove the word "try", you can just do it. There's immediacy, power and action at your service.
2. Trying gives you permission to quit on yourself.
If you tell yourself you're going to "try" to lose weight, do you think you'll be successful? Probably not. When you "try" to do anything, whether you realize it or not, you're giving yourself permission to quit. And having the "backdoor open" on any new venture is a surefire way to let yourself down when the going gets tough. Instead, get clear on what you intend to do and just do it. You'll be far more likely to produce what you say you want.
3. Trying makes you "flaky."
Did you ever have a friend that "tried" to make it to a party and never showed? Anytime someone tells me they'll "try" to come somewhere, I know they won't make it. And to be honest, when someone say's they'll "try to be there" enough times, I stop asking. They get slotted into the flaky, not count-on-able category. It's much better to simply say yes or no. And if you're really unsure, be transparent and let people know what your circumstances are. This way your "try" will have honestly and validity behind it.
4. Trying erodes your trust in yourself.
After you "try" enough times and fail, you have no trust in YOU. When you don't trust yourself, it's very difficult to make more money, grow your business and have the kind of magical life you DESERVE. Why? Because whether you realize it or not, your success in life hinges on your ability to give and keep your word. When you give your word and keep it consistently, you gain a tremendous amount of personal power. Then you can trust YOURSELF to make things happen.
5. Trying makes Yoda sad. Please be kind.
Even though he's tiny, wrinkly and green, Yoda's got feelings too. When you "try", you shove Yoda's priceless Jedi wisdom back in his face. Sources tell me his feelings get so hurt that he sits on the couch and eats an entire pint of Ben & Jerry's Mint Cookie Chip ice cream. In case you didn't know, Yoda is lactose intolerant. It's not a happy evening for him. So if none of the other reasons are compelling enough for you, please stop "trying" for Yoda's sake. OK :)?
Remember, the first step in any transformation is awareness. The fastest way to stop "trying" is start noticing all the ways you do! Then it becomes easy to shift out of "try" and into powerful action.
WANT TO USE THIS ARTICLE IN YOUR E-ZINE OR WEB SITE? You can, as long as you include this complete blurb with it: Lifestyle entrepreneur and bestselling author Marie Forleo, publishes the weekly ezine 'The Good Life Secrets' helping women entrepreneurs be RICH, HAPPY and HOT. If you're ready to make more money, grow your business and have more fun in your relationships and life, get your FREE advice now at www.marieforleo.com
Wednesday, March 26, 2008
Tuesday, March 25, 2008
I hope I'm laughing WITH
And not at? I'm not sure...it makes me a little nervous. I hope I'm not being sexist.
Embarrassing admission #857
From this week's Entertainment Weekly TV section:
Sunday 3.30 9-10:30 PM PBS
Sense and Sensibility
Sad-but-true fact about me: There's a street in Los Angeles called Willoughby Ave. and whenever I drive down it, I say "Oh, Willoughby!" loudly in an English accent.
Ahem. Jennifer Armstrong at Entertainment Weekly, you are not alone, sister.
I'm a tad saner... I say it in my own head, and then vow to NEVER settle for Colonel Brandon. Join us for Jane Austen Porn Club night anytime!
Which Jane Austen Character Are You?
You're Mariane Dashwood from Sense & Sensibility! You are the romantic youngster, also found in Jane Austen's work as Catherine of Northanger Abbey and possibly Georgiana Darcy of Pride and Prejudice. You wander through life like Red Riding Hood in the forest, picking wildflowers and humming a happy song... and you can't see the wolf right in front of you! Ruled by heart and not by head, you are best advised to to learn a little caution, before you are forced into a better acquaintance with the ways of the world.
Take this quiz!
Sunday 3.30 9-10:30 PM PBS
Sense and Sensibility
Sad-but-true fact about me: There's a street in Los Angeles called Willoughby Ave. and whenever I drive down it, I say "Oh, Willoughby!" loudly in an English accent.
Ahem. Jennifer Armstrong at Entertainment Weekly, you are not alone, sister.
I'm a tad saner... I say it in my own head, and then vow to NEVER settle for Colonel Brandon. Join us for Jane Austen Porn Club night anytime!
Which Jane Austen Character Are You?
You're Mariane Dashwood from Sense & Sensibility! You are the romantic youngster, also found in Jane Austen's work as Catherine of Northanger Abbey and possibly Georgiana Darcy of Pride and Prejudice. You wander through life like Red Riding Hood in the forest, picking wildflowers and humming a happy song... and you can't see the wolf right in front of you! Ruled by heart and not by head, you are best advised to to learn a little caution, before you are forced into a better acquaintance with the ways of the world.
Take this quiz!
Sunday, March 23, 2008
How to please a woman
Here's another great article by Alison Armstrong, founder of the PAX workshops.
Searching for Intimacy in a Box of Chocolates
by Alison A. Armstrong
What do women really want for Valentine’s Day? Well… We want chocolates, mushy greeting cards, flowers sent to the office, real jewelry and much anticipated marriage proposals.
Or do we?
“It is when a man is expressing his passions that he is the most vulnerable. It’s when he’s talking about the things that make him happy that he is the most available.”I think what women crave more than anything else is Intimacy. Connection. Closeness. And I was hoping to find it somewhere in that box of Valentine’s chocolates. Is it between the caramels and the nut chews? Maybe the chocolates are an expression of his Feelings for me. And if I could break open those feelings, like I broke open that mocha crème…
In my search for intimacy, I would gaze intently into my boyfriend’s eyes and ask, “How do you feel about me?” I thought that if I could get him to talk about his feelings, then I would experience being close to him. If he would “open up emotionally,” then we could have those intimate moments for which I longed. To know him, to connect with him, I must connect with his emotions. I must hear about his feelings.
Or so I thought. (read more)
Searching for Intimacy in a Box of Chocolates
by Alison A. Armstrong
What do women really want for Valentine’s Day? Well… We want chocolates, mushy greeting cards, flowers sent to the office, real jewelry and much anticipated marriage proposals.
Or do we?
“It is when a man is expressing his passions that he is the most vulnerable. It’s when he’s talking about the things that make him happy that he is the most available.”I think what women crave more than anything else is Intimacy. Connection. Closeness. And I was hoping to find it somewhere in that box of Valentine’s chocolates. Is it between the caramels and the nut chews? Maybe the chocolates are an expression of his Feelings for me. And if I could break open those feelings, like I broke open that mocha crème…
In my search for intimacy, I would gaze intently into my boyfriend’s eyes and ask, “How do you feel about me?” I thought that if I could get him to talk about his feelings, then I would experience being close to him. If he would “open up emotionally,” then we could have those intimate moments for which I longed. To know him, to connect with him, I must connect with his emotions. I must hear about his feelings.
Or so I thought. (read more)
Happy Easter!
Post Secret is great today.
Congrats to our friend Jim Troesh, the Hollywood Quad, on the success of his spec pilot with the amazing Bryan Cranston of "Breaking Bad."
Congrats to our friend Jim Troesh, the Hollywood Quad, on the success of his spec pilot with the amazing Bryan Cranston of "Breaking Bad."
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)