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The test is over. I failed, if you call it that. I lasted one week and not the full two. The test was not really to see if I can 'last' two weeks. I wanted to feel the cravings. I wanted to have the addiction.
It ended when I went to a co-worker/friend gathering at our weekly "Ridiculous Movie Night". We get together and watch some ridiculous b-movie on a 19" tv and have some drinks. Good times. We got there and ironically the test was broken by a new show called "Celebrity ReHab" with Dr. Drew. In this reality show, about 10 ex-celebrities enter a rehabilitation center in Pasadena and are filmed as they attempt to take control of their addictions.
I could have easily skipped this and continued on my streak, but this test wasn't working. I wasn't feeling the cravings. I didn't have that unexplainable trigger that compels one to eagerly stop the twitching. I didn't have withdrawals. The low point of mental health that destroys a nice sunny day. I was actually much more productive than ever. Reading, writing, and flat out thinking more. It was more confirmation that quitting a bad thing results in a better life. So what was the point? To understand.
I could understand the surroundings. How hard it is to quit when its everywhere you turn. The rubbing-it-in part of it all. While other people are enjoying it, you can't play. And to have this done to you for the rest of your life. I never said it was easy. But I can never know what it truly feels like until I've gone through it.
I watched an episode of the Showtime series "Dexter" today at work. In this episode, Dexter finds himself going to a group meeting to support his fake addiction to heroin. He's called out by his new sponsor, who explained addiction better than anything I've heard so far:
Like a thousand hiding voices, whispering,
"This is who you are."
And you fight the pressure, the growing need rising like a wave.
Prickling, and teasing, and prodding to be fed.
But the whispering gets louder,
Until its screaming "Now!"
And its the only voice you hear.
The only voice you want to hear.
And you belong to it.
To this shadow. Self.
To this...Dark Passenger.
Day 4 of No TV or Video games: No withdrawals, yet.
I've been spending some extra time surfing the internet, reading, and finding old hobbies I used to be into. Maybe it isn't as hard for me right now because I just didn't watch that much TV or played video games in the first place.
Tonight I went out to a very nice restaurant in Santa Monica and almost accidentally lost this test to the plasma that was playing a playoff football game in the bar. But as I remembered the deal, I went to our assigned table. I could hear the oooohs and ahhhhs coming from the bar. Still, the dinner was so great, I didn't think too much of it.
After dinner, we all went to another bar down the way. This place was nothing more than a couple bars, old school arcade and table games, and small dance floor. Oh yeah, and 40" LCD TVs two feet apart on every wall. There must have been 20 of these TVs all around, all playing playoff games. Still, I was calm and sober enough to bypass all these, even as exciting as the games were.
I confirmed, similar to someone trying to kick their addiction, that their environment and social events play the primary role. I don't even think the chemical addiction of nicotine is as strong as this habit. It's more about your surroundings than anything. Short breaks of boredom and social gatherings trigger the addiction more than anything. Yes, I wanted to watch some TV there, but I'm strong enough mentally to keep to this test. Others don't have that kind of will power, especially when drinking is involved. Plus, there's no chemical agent kicker. I did feel left out though.
I still don't agree so much that giving up TV is the same kind of addiction as smoking. But its only day 4. I spoke with my girlfriend about it, and for the most part she seems to agree with me. She compared the withdrawals more to that of the kind you get when you don't drink caffeine. And I'm a huge caffeine drinker. Everything has it. Soda, energy drinks, and coffee. Three things that get me going throughout the day. So I'm throwing those on the pile. Let's see how much my life changes...
P.S. Seeing the playoff games reminded me that the Superbowl is right around the corner. It's more than 2 weeks away, but maybe that will be the first thing I watch on TV?
I've been spending some extra time surfing the internet, reading, and finding old hobbies I used to be into. Maybe it isn't as hard for me right now because I just didn't watch that much TV or played video games in the first place.
Tonight I went out to a very nice restaurant in Santa Monica and almost accidentally lost this test to the plasma that was playing a playoff football game in the bar. But as I remembered the deal, I went to our assigned table. I could hear the oooohs and ahhhhs coming from the bar. Still, the dinner was so great, I didn't think too much of it.
After dinner, we all went to another bar down the way. This place was nothing more than a couple bars, old school arcade and table games, and small dance floor. Oh yeah, and 40" LCD TVs two feet apart on every wall. There must have been 20 of these TVs all around, all playing playoff games. Still, I was calm and sober enough to bypass all these, even as exciting as the games were.
I confirmed, similar to someone trying to kick their addiction, that their environment and social events play the primary role. I don't even think the chemical addiction of nicotine is as strong as this habit. It's more about your surroundings than anything. Short breaks of boredom and social gatherings trigger the addiction more than anything. Yes, I wanted to watch some TV there, but I'm strong enough mentally to keep to this test. Others don't have that kind of will power, especially when drinking is involved. Plus, there's no chemical agent kicker. I did feel left out though.
I still don't agree so much that giving up TV is the same kind of addiction as smoking. But its only day 4. I spoke with my girlfriend about it, and for the most part she seems to agree with me. She compared the withdrawals more to that of the kind you get when you don't drink caffeine. And I'm a huge caffeine drinker. Everything has it. Soda, energy drinks, and coffee. Three things that get me going throughout the day. So I'm throwing those on the pile. Let's see how much my life changes...
P.S. Seeing the playoff games reminded me that the Superbowl is right around the corner. It's more than 2 weeks away, but maybe that will be the first thing I watch on TV?
Happy New Year. It's just another day. From here on out, its a 1 number difference on your checks. But its a milestone. Its a reason to start something new, or to give something up, or to take on a new challenge.
It was a rough end to 2007. My Grandmother died 4 days before Christmas. Not like its a holiday I get excited about anyway. But I did very much love that woman. But as time passes, so do our understandings about life.
I made a New Year's resolution to myself to "Understand." I do my best everyday to rationalize everything, trying to think about the big picture. Whether its really a problem or not, I'm always trying to find the best solution. I can be very stubborn though.
I was talking with a friend of mine, trying to understand "Addiction."
As Google defines it:
- A chronic, relapsing disease characterized by compulsive drug-seeking and use and by neurochemical and molecular changes in the brain.
- A physiological and psychological compulsion for a habit-forming substance. In extreme cases, an addiction may become an overwhelming obsession.
- Uncontrollable craving, seeking, and use of a substance such as a drug or alcohol.
I was comparing an addiction to smoking vs. drinking soda or watching TV or playing video games. My argument was that an addiction to nicotine is chemical, whereas watching TV was not an addiction, rather a habit maybe. I was talking with my coworkers about it, they seemed to agree with me, even one who is an ex-smoker. But still, I'm not understanding. I've never been addicted to anything. I've never had that "itch" people talk about that is so compelling, it takes control. I was asked the question, "So it's only an 'addiction' if its bad for you?" No, its not, I don't think. People can be addicted to serial killing, which to many murderers gets them off. Or people can be addicted to working out. It's healthy right?
I think "Addiction" becomes defined when it takes control. When all you can think about is that one little thing. You make it a mission to satisfy it. You do, and its only a matter of time before you do the same thing over and over again. I've seen and experienced it from only the outside. I've been part of the mission. And I've seen the itch. Its like a baby bird crying in a nest waiting to be fed. Its such a weakness.
I think that's what it is about me. I hate addiction because you lose control, and I'm a control freak. I don't like the fact that I can't control something, that I don't have that kind of power over myself or someone else. Call me a Sith Lord I guess.
So here I am, trying to Understand it. I'm taking the test of no TV and no video games for 2 weeks, and supposedly I'm suppose to start feeling things. Am I really addicted to those things? Do I have that kind of control over myself? Either way, I think its a good thing. TV is the most passive activity you can do. It's shutting down your brain. At least with reading, writing or drawing, you have to interpret things and use your brain, instead of just absorbing information. I'm doing this to better understand myself, and to be more tolerant towards others. I'll post my progress and feelings as they arrive.
This is going to be fun...?
It was a rough end to 2007. My Grandmother died 4 days before Christmas. Not like its a holiday I get excited about anyway. But I did very much love that woman. But as time passes, so do our understandings about life.
I made a New Year's resolution to myself to "Understand." I do my best everyday to rationalize everything, trying to think about the big picture. Whether its really a problem or not, I'm always trying to find the best solution. I can be very stubborn though.
I was talking with a friend of mine, trying to understand "Addiction."
As Google defines it:
- A chronic, relapsing disease characterized by compulsive drug-seeking and use and by neurochemical and molecular changes in the brain.
- A physiological and psychological compulsion for a habit-forming substance. In extreme cases, an addiction may become an overwhelming obsession.
- Uncontrollable craving, seeking, and use of a substance such as a drug or alcohol.
I was comparing an addiction to smoking vs. drinking soda or watching TV or playing video games. My argument was that an addiction to nicotine is chemical, whereas watching TV was not an addiction, rather a habit maybe. I was talking with my coworkers about it, they seemed to agree with me, even one who is an ex-smoker. But still, I'm not understanding. I've never been addicted to anything. I've never had that "itch" people talk about that is so compelling, it takes control. I was asked the question, "So it's only an 'addiction' if its bad for you?" No, its not, I don't think. People can be addicted to serial killing, which to many murderers gets them off. Or people can be addicted to working out. It's healthy right?
I think "Addiction" becomes defined when it takes control. When all you can think about is that one little thing. You make it a mission to satisfy it. You do, and its only a matter of time before you do the same thing over and over again. I've seen and experienced it from only the outside. I've been part of the mission. And I've seen the itch. Its like a baby bird crying in a nest waiting to be fed. Its such a weakness.
I think that's what it is about me. I hate addiction because you lose control, and I'm a control freak. I don't like the fact that I can't control something, that I don't have that kind of power over myself or someone else. Call me a Sith Lord I guess.
So here I am, trying to Understand it. I'm taking the test of no TV and no video games for 2 weeks, and supposedly I'm suppose to start feeling things. Am I really addicted to those things? Do I have that kind of control over myself? Either way, I think its a good thing. TV is the most passive activity you can do. It's shutting down your brain. At least with reading, writing or drawing, you have to interpret things and use your brain, instead of just absorbing information. I'm doing this to better understand myself, and to be more tolerant towards others. I'll post my progress and feelings as they arrive.
This is going to be fun...?
"Hate" is the only word I have to describe the country of Mexico. I now cringe when I hear the word.
Mexico: The Butthole of the Earth.
Here is my story:
I love flying, and anything to do with planes, jets, spaceships, etc...
Yesterday was the big Red Bull Air Race down in San Diego. This was the first time this world wide race of propeller planes made it to San Diego, CA. I had to be there. I invited a few friends of mine, a couple bailed on me at the last minute. So it was just me and my date, having a nice relaxing time on the shore of the San Diego bay.
After a few hours of aerial magic and making fun of the general public, the race ends and we walk our way into downtown San Diego. We walk around indecisively, trying to find a suitable restaurant. We choose a sushi place run by Mexicans.
So far, so good. It's calm and it's time for some beers. We decide to paint the town and start at the bar at Rock Bottom. We spend a couple hours here, my date getting a little tipsy while I observe. We leave and remember we wanted to go to the Palm Reader Psychic down the street. It looked open, but there was a sign in the window that read "Be back at Midnight." I make fun of this, realizing that if the psychic was a real psychic, he/she would've known we were coming. "Looks like I'll have to spend my last bit of cash ($20) somewhere else," I say and leave. We hit up another bar and drank another couple of pints.
At this point, its about 11pm and my date is heavily intoxicated. We still have to drive back to LA, so I call it a night and we leave the parking structure. I had a little trouble finding the freeway entrance, so I drive around San Diego city for about 15 minutes. Finally I find the entrance to the 5 Freeway and quickly hop on. I'm paying most attention to my date, who is making fun drunk conversation. Yesterday was the big Red Bull Air Race down in San Diego. This was the first time this world wide race of propeller planes made it to San Diego, CA. I had to be there. I invited a few friends of mine, a couple bailed on me at the last minute. So it was just me and my date, having a nice relaxing time on the shore of the San Diego bay.
After a few hours of aerial magic and making fun of the general public, the race ends and we walk our way into downtown San Diego. We walk around indecisively, trying to find a suitable restaurant. We choose a sushi place run by Mexicans.
So far, so good. It's calm and it's time for some beers. We decide to paint the town and start at the bar at Rock Bottom. We spend a couple hours here, my date getting a little tipsy while I observe. We leave and remember we wanted to go to the Palm Reader Psychic down the street. It looked open, but there was a sign in the window that read "Be back at Midnight." I make fun of this, realizing that if the psychic was a real psychic, he/she would've known we were coming. "Looks like I'll have to spend my last bit of cash ($20) somewhere else," I say and leave. We hit up another bar and drank another couple of pints.
"Did you have a good time?" she says.
"I did yeah, I had a great time." I respond.
...
...
"What do those signs say?"
Wait, I don't remember having to cross any border inspection...
Holy Shit. We're now in Mexico.
FUCK!
I follow the line of cars exiting the freeway and curve around onto the city streets. This was the last I saw of my rights as a US citizen.
We stop at a line of Policía officers stopping traffic of what looks like a cross between a sobriety check and a fiésta especíal. The first officer stops and asks me what's going on. I plead my case, telling him all I did was make a wrong turn onto the freeway and just really need to get back.
"Okay meester. Do jou know how to get back to de freebay?"
"No sir, I have no idea." I say.
He looks at me, and calmly gives me directions. He tells me to go over a block, make a right, and then another right.
...he stops...waits...
"Aye!" He calls over to one of his compadres. He mutters something to him in Mexican talk, and the new guy asks me for my license. He tells me the speed limit around the turn is 40km/h and that I was going 68km/h.
BULLSHIT.
FUCK!
He takes another glance at me, and then at my date (who at this point is beyond freaked out. She had never been to Mexico, and her parents previously warned her never to come without at least $20 cash with her.)
So then he tells me to pull over to the side of the road. He then follows and tells me to step out of the car. Great.
He keeps repeating that I was breaking their speed law as I keep telling him all I did was make a wrong turn and didn't realize what direction I was heading. This banter goes on for about 10 minutes. I don't yet realize that all the stories I've heard and seen on TV about this hellhole was true. He asks me for my registration, and I return to my car to retrieve it.
He looks over it, pretending as if he knew how to read.
Another truck of Mexican Policía arrive and pull up next to us. One of them, taking an interesting look at my date in the passenger seat.
"You were g-going 68km/hour and de sped limit is 40km/hour in Mexico. Jou're going to have to follow them to the station, where jou will pay the fine of 1400 pesos (about $130) and be held" he stutters.
FUCK!
At this point, I'm wondering what the fuck happened to my rights. What is going to happen to my car? How the fuck am I suppose to get home?! I continue to plead my case and then it clicks. This asshole wants money. All I have is the $20 cash on me that I would've spent on the psychic palm reader back in San Diego.
"Don't hand it out." he mutters behind his flashlight. "Place it under this and then give it to me." as he hands me my registration back.
I can't believe I'm here, right now, in this shit country, bribing the Mexican Policía. FUCK MEXICO.
"Do jou know how to get back?"
"I have no idea." I say, as I literally take back my license and registration from his clipboard.
I return back to my drunken date, who is close to tears at this point. I leave the scene of the crime and make my way around the corner. To where the onramp to freedom is.
...
I miss the onramp to freedom. I take a tour of mother fucking Tijuana for 20 minutes trying to find my way onto the freeway again. All the signs are in Mexican. The stop signs say "ALTO" instead of "STOP." Dirty ass Mexicans roam the streets trying to hustle anyone who looks at them funny.
I finally find my way back following the signs that point to San Diego and stop at the line of cars trying to get out of this mother fucking country. I wait in a line of about thirty cars, as Mexicans try to sell us everything including the kitchen sink. Literally. Well, almost literally. They had porcelain statues and vases of the Virgin Mary and Last Supper, which I seriously would've bought hadn't it been for that crooked cop. It was either those, or a set of fake plastic jewelery, or a Dodgers rug, or a Raiders poncho. We're of course making fun of all this, laughing it up, but still stressed because we haven't yet crossed the boarder.
An hour later, we get to the final guardsman at the booth.
"State your country of citizenship." He says very nicely, and without any accent.
"USA!" I said.
"United States!" my date said, ever so proudly.
"You guys have a good night." and he lets us pass though the boarder without questions.
FREEDOM!! We sing the National Anthem on the way up and every patriotic thought we could think of. We stopped at a local gas station in San Diego and have a few cigarettes. I don't smoke. But I NEEDED a cigarette.
As we leave gas station towards my car, I see a spray painted "USA" and an arrow pointing north on the pavement. I took a picture of my date pretending to lick it.
I get home at almost 4am and reflect upon what just happened to me. What if I had spent my last bit of cash on that psychic? Maybe she WAS psychic, and seriously saved my life? What if I didn't have anything to bribe the crooked cop? Would I be in a Mexican prison right now? What would happen to my car? How would my date have survived in that jungle?
I've never felt so much hate for a corrupted country, and never so much pride for this country I live in. I take my rights for granted.
That was my night.
Spoiler Warning.
I watched the Borne Ultimatum today. It was great, but not the best. I still think The Borne Identity is my personal favorite. I thought the fight scenes were genius and not over the top. The guy fights and chokes a guy with a book. Yeah thats right, with literature!
The movie was like a Sunday newspaper:
Overall, a lot of words with some big pictures to support them. The words being the dialog and the pictures being the action scenes. The front page, Borne intercepts and tries to get information from a journalist. This scene is cleverly written, adding suspense as well as payoff. There is then some reading to do as the audience catches their breath.
Moving on to the Travel section, which Borne seems to be able to do and get away with freely. He takes trains from Moscow, to Morocco, to Spain, to New York, around the world for kicks...just kidding.
The Calendar section consists of rendezvous points galore. Meet me here, meet me there, this is happening at this time, get me surveillance there. Oh crap, we thought we were going to be here, but no.
The ending was action packed with a smash'em up car chase which I enjoyed. The Sports section. Result, Borne wins again.
Like I said, I enjoyed it, but honestly saw myself close to dozing off in the serious talking sections, which there were many. There is a quasi-love story between Borne and a CIA agent Nikki Parsons which I also didn't get. I thought there was more behind their past. Maybe I'm just reading that wrong.
I'd definitely recommend it, and I think its the last big film of the summer.
I watched the Borne Ultimatum today. It was great, but not the best. I still think The Borne Identity is my personal favorite. I thought the fight scenes were genius and not over the top. The guy fights and chokes a guy with a book. Yeah thats right, with literature!
The movie was like a Sunday newspaper:
Overall, a lot of words with some big pictures to support them. The words being the dialog and the pictures being the action scenes. The front page, Borne intercepts and tries to get information from a journalist. This scene is cleverly written, adding suspense as well as payoff. There is then some reading to do as the audience catches their breath.
Moving on to the Travel section, which Borne seems to be able to do and get away with freely. He takes trains from Moscow, to Morocco, to Spain, to New York, around the world for kicks...just kidding.
The Calendar section consists of rendezvous points galore. Meet me here, meet me there, this is happening at this time, get me surveillance there. Oh crap, we thought we were going to be here, but no.
The ending was action packed with a smash'em up car chase which I enjoyed. The Sports section. Result, Borne wins again.
Like I said, I enjoyed it, but honestly saw myself close to dozing off in the serious talking sections, which there were many. There is a quasi-love story between Borne and a CIA agent Nikki Parsons which I also didn't get. I thought there was more behind their past. Maybe I'm just reading that wrong.
I'd definitely recommend it, and I think its the last big film of the summer.
Would you go see a comedy based on road rage?
Tomorrow is my first day at the new job. Must say I'm excited, but at the same time nervous. You only get one chance to make a first impression, right? I've had the hiccups for the past 2 days straight. Every 6 seconds. If I was pregnant, these close contractions would mean the baby's head would be poking through. I don't think its because I'm nervous though. I haven't even really thought that much about it. I've been busy erasing a lot of what I learned at my last job this week.
Not sure what the strategy for my first day is, if any. People say, "just be yourself," although I know my personality can often rub people the wrong way. Should I take the silent route and only speak when spoken to? I'll never forget the phrase we had to write when we got in trouble in my 7th grade Jr. High:
"It is better to keep silent and be thought stupid, than to speak and remove all doubt."
No, I think the best thing to do is take the Scientology route and just think positive.
Not sure what the strategy for my first day is, if any. People say, "just be yourself," although I know my personality can often rub people the wrong way. Should I take the silent route and only speak when spoken to? I'll never forget the phrase we had to write when we got in trouble in my 7th grade Jr. High:
"It is better to keep silent and be thought stupid, than to speak and remove all doubt."
No, I think the best thing to do is take the Scientology route and just think positive.
Tomorrow is my last day at Zoic Studios. I started there as an excited graduate in April 2005, interning for 4 and a half months. I tried so hard to make a difference, trying desperately to learn the magic ways of 3D animation. Desperation turned into a different career pursuit. I got hired in the Fall as a production assistant on episodic series television. After that season ended, I feared I was out of a job when Summer of '06 began. Alas, the "Drive" pilot arrived, and I was deemed "Coordinator." Although the production and show was crap, it was the show that cut my teeth. The stupid show got picked up in the Winter. I was juggling so many damn shows, I basically got burned out when the season ended.
People say life changes happen in 2 year increments. And yes, I was at Zoic for two years.
I start at Rhythm & Hues the first week of July as a coordinator. I'm hoping this position will lead to bigger and better things. I'm hoping to make some new connections. I'm hoping I'll be happy.
People say life changes happen in 2 year increments. And yes, I was at Zoic for two years.
I start at Rhythm & Hues the first week of July as a coordinator. I'm hoping this position will lead to bigger and better things. I'm hoping to make some new connections. I'm hoping I'll be happy.
Warning. I'm going to spoil this is if you haven't seen it.
Ready?
Alright so I usually get pissed off at shows that don't reveal the answers. Like in the show "Lost" I'm constantly complaining that they make you ask questions and they take so long to answer them, if at all. But the Sopranos Series finale last night was great. I'm not even a fan of the show. I've watched a couple episodes this season here and there, but never religiously got into it.
Long story short:
The feuding families are killing eachother like good old mobsters do so well. This guy's uncle puts a hit on this other guy's friend, this other guy mistakenly kills the wrong guy, etc... Everyone is expecting everyone to die, which makes the final scene so tense.
The final scene:
Tony Soprano, the main character and head of the mob invites his family out to dinner at a local pizza/ice cream parlor. This, after coming out of hiding in a remote snowy location. His current enemy had just been shot in the head, then having his head crushed underneath the tires of his van. Yeah, it was grusome and fantastic at the same time. So at this point you expect the worst. You know you're in the last five minutes of the show and absolutely know someone or everyone is going to die. There's obviously going to be a bloodbath inside this nice place.
Tony arrives at the restaurant first, sits down at the small table, faces the entrance. Looks around, everything seems calm and normal. He turns to the small juke box player at the table and flips through the song selections. He chooses the perfect song by Journey "Don't Stop Believing," which is without a doubt the best drunken kareoke song of all time. Without a doubt. The song is so awesome, it doesn't even lower its volume as the characters speak their dialogue.
As he calmly sits and waits for his family to arrive, its his point of view noticing every new customer arriving. He sees a happy couple sitting at a neighboring table. A truck driver enters, seats himself down at another table.
His wife comes in shortly after, Tony acknowledges her entrance, she sits across from him.
His son comes in behind an Italian man, late thirties. Suspicious. He sits at the front counter as the son joins the family.
His daughter is shown arriving in her Lexus and attempts to parallel park across the street. She has difficulty getting into the spot and the camera lets you know this very well, showing every angle of her struggle. Typical woman.
At this point the tension is driving me along with the millions of other Americans nuts. My mind is desperately trying to solve the puzzle of who gets wacked and how.
More pausing and dialogue continues.
Suddenly the thirty-something Italian gets up off his seat and head towards Tony's table. Oh no! Here it is! The camera focus follows the man through, and...
Nothing. The guy leaves to the bathroom. Oh no! The bathroom?! He must have a gun stashed behind the toilet, a la the Godfather. We turn back to the three at the table, still calm and feeding on a round of onion rings.
The daughter finally makes it into the tight spot and blindly crosses the road. Look out for cars woman!!
But no. Nothing. She assumingly enters the restaurant as the lyrics to the song reach "Don't stop..."
The camera turns to Tony looking up.
.
.
.
.
Black. Silence.
.
.
.
What the fuck just happened to the cable?!!!
As I turn to my roomate to see what the problem is, the credits roll in silence.
I give this a Holy Shit factor of 10. Holy Shit is right. Like I said, I usually would get pissed off at this. But it was very well done, with the music selection, the tension, the camera work, and the expecting audience. It through us all off, and left our minds to fill in the blanks for ourselves.
Baddabing.
Well played Sopranos, well played.
Oh yeah, I forgot. During my recent livejournal hiatus, a friend of mine told me about her story she was thinking about creating. It's a pretty solid base for an animated series. Basically it's what if say the Joker and his sidekick Harlequin got busy and had a child. I guess if it was those two villains, she wouldn't exactly be a 'super' villain. But anyway, she was described as being a tough, tank-girl type character. Her motiv isn't exactly thought out yet, but she does conflict with herself with what side she's on, good vs. evil. Whether to follow in her parent's footsteps, or to rebel against them.
A few things to think about to get things started and to get the juices flowin':
What time is it set?
Where is it set?
What age or demographic are we going for? (actually I think the creator said it would be an action comedy type on adult swim)
How old is she?
If she's our hero, who is the main villain?
Who are the secondary characters, and what role do they play?
If she doesn't have super powers, what 'power' does she have?
What does each episode accomplish towards her character goals?
I think I can come up with a solid pilot episode. It could be one of those series to film type things which would be rad.
A few things to think about to get things started and to get the juices flowin':
What time is it set?
Where is it set?
What age or demographic are we going for? (actually I think the creator said it would be an action comedy type on adult swim)
How old is she?
If she's our hero, who is the main villain?
Who are the secondary characters, and what role do they play?
If she doesn't have super powers, what 'power' does she have?
What does each episode accomplish towards her character goals?
I think I can come up with a solid pilot episode. It could be one of those series to film type things which would be rad.
I watched "Deja Vu" starring Denzel Washington last night. It wasn't terrible. I'm usually intrigued with the time-travel genres. Much like an episode of CSI, but just on the big screen. Meh. It had potential, though.
Everyone's been asked this question: "If you could go back in time, what would you change?"
A lot of people say they'd go back and win the lottery. Some say they'd witness a historical event. Others say they'd go back and change that one event in their lives that they've regretted the most.
The point is there's a lot to play with here. I can write a time-sensitive story about different characters, each with different motives that come crashing together at the end. It's probably been done before, sure. A battle between good and evil. Sure. Terminator revisited. Whatever. Mine's going to be better.
Everyone's been asked this question: "If you could go back in time, what would you change?"
A lot of people say they'd go back and win the lottery. Some say they'd witness a historical event. Others say they'd go back and change that one event in their lives that they've regretted the most.
The point is there's a lot to play with here. I can write a time-sensitive story about different characters, each with different motives that come crashing together at the end. It's probably been done before, sure. A battle between good and evil. Sure. Terminator revisited. Whatever. Mine's going to be better.
It's been exactly one month since I've last posted. No excuses other than sheer laziness.
The whole purpose of this blog was to work towards writing a script. I'll put that back on the "to do" list:
1. Write and sell a script
2. Learn to play the piano
3. Learn Japanese
4. Learn how to fly
5. Drive an Indy car
More to come...
The whole purpose of this blog was to work towards writing a script. I'll put that back on the "to do" list:
1. Write and sell a script
2. Learn to play the piano
3. Learn Japanese
4. Learn how to fly
5. Drive an Indy car
More to come...
So it's been a while since I posted. Blame it on the new XBox and playoffs that are going on right now. Anyway, here's something fun.
I recently went to Hollywood Park, a local Indian reservation casino here in LA. I went with my roommate, who is an avid poker player both live and online.
I've been to Vegas dozens of times. Whether on a long vacation, or just a weekend away, the Vegas I go to has Class. Hollywood Park does not. All it really is is a mid sized court of tables with a dealer and random cocktail waitresses. This is where bored college kids and lonely over aged men go to get their same fix.
Gambling is just another reach for hope. The hope that you'll leave with more than you came with. Its what all of us cling to in life, right? Hope. Gambling just gives it to us in small increments.
I figure this would be a good story. There's a lot of story to be told in this now so popular game of poker. People like casinos and everything associated with it. Its a vice we accept because there is more entertainment value in it than anything. My character starts his poker career at age 16 in his parent's basement. He would bring his high school friends over to both teach and take their money. Such an entrepreneur. It was a lucrative business, much like Giovanni Ribisi's character in the movie Boiler Room. He learns every trick in the game. He knows how to bet, how to read his opponents. Every ounce of his energy is put into gambling. However all his money made is put to helping support his mother and home. He's a good kid. He goes through high school as a regular guy with a gambling secret. Grades and friends come naturally to him. He can read his teachers, his friends, his cards. The only thing he can't read is women. The list of unrequited love is long for our poor hero. But, like his gambling, he keeps hope. He turns to his cards for intensity and excitement.
To be continued, someday.
I've been to Vegas dozens of times. Whether on a long vacation, or just a weekend away, the Vegas I go to has Class. Hollywood Park does not. All it really is is a mid sized court of tables with a dealer and random cocktail waitresses. This is where bored college kids and lonely over aged men go to get their same fix.
Gambling is just another reach for hope. The hope that you'll leave with more than you came with. Its what all of us cling to in life, right? Hope. Gambling just gives it to us in small increments.
I figure this would be a good story. There's a lot of story to be told in this now so popular game of poker. People like casinos and everything associated with it. Its a vice we accept because there is more entertainment value in it than anything. My character starts his poker career at age 16 in his parent's basement. He would bring his high school friends over to both teach and take their money. Such an entrepreneur. It was a lucrative business, much like Giovanni Ribisi's character in the movie Boiler Room. He learns every trick in the game. He knows how to bet, how to read his opponents. Every ounce of his energy is put into gambling. However all his money made is put to helping support his mother and home. He's a good kid. He goes through high school as a regular guy with a gambling secret. Grades and friends come naturally to him. He can read his teachers, his friends, his cards. The only thing he can't read is women. The list of unrequited love is long for our poor hero. But, like his gambling, he keeps hope. He turns to his cards for intensity and excitement.
To be continued, someday.
One lazy Sunday I take the time to think outside the box a little. I go out to have a bite to eat with my roommate. Cheap sushi, delicious. Afterward we go next door to Marshalls in search of socks. I have no desire to shop in here so I start blabbering on and on about my mission, much like R2D2 in EP4.
I think of the most random things when I'm bored. Mostly ridiculous things that will never happen in real life because society has deemed them "bad." For example, sometimes I just feel like punching someone for no reason. Random acts of anger. Or to smack a hot chick's butt without thinking about the consequences soon to follow. Not paying attention to others feelings. Not caring if people get offended. Being a racist. Making fun of retards.
So with all this going on in my mind, I say why not? Here comes the What if.
What if someone in this world had all this power. He'd have the power to do anything he thought of, and get away with it. He's not feared by people, just accepted (so no, its not like the kid from the twilight zone.) As I'm thinking this, a store clerk picked up the soccer ball i was leisurely kicking around the store and went to put it back where it belonged. I thought of running across the aisles and tackling the guy. As we walked around some more I saw a young mother bending over to tie her shoes. I'd thrust my pelvis slightly to knock her over and laugh. We reached the cashier who was cross-eyed. I thought of reaching over and straightening her eyes out. I, I mean our main character, want this power.
I'm just thinking about an amusing short. It doesn't have to make much sense. It doesn't need to have a character arch. Something out of a Gondry flick, but not as serious. It what goes on in the mind of someone suffering from OCD. Something that definitely looks cool, but is comical, dark, and simply fucked up.
I think of the most random things when I'm bored. Mostly ridiculous things that will never happen in real life because society has deemed them "bad." For example, sometimes I just feel like punching someone for no reason. Random acts of anger. Or to smack a hot chick's butt without thinking about the consequences soon to follow. Not paying attention to others feelings. Not caring if people get offended. Being a racist. Making fun of retards.
So with all this going on in my mind, I say why not? Here comes the What if.
What if someone in this world had all this power. He'd have the power to do anything he thought of, and get away with it. He's not feared by people, just accepted (so no, its not like the kid from the twilight zone.) As I'm thinking this, a store clerk picked up the soccer ball i was leisurely kicking around the store and went to put it back where it belonged. I thought of running across the aisles and tackling the guy. As we walked around some more I saw a young mother bending over to tie her shoes. I'd thrust my pelvis slightly to knock her over and laugh. We reached the cashier who was cross-eyed. I thought of reaching over and straightening her eyes out. I, I mean our main character, want this power.
I'm just thinking about an amusing short. It doesn't have to make much sense. It doesn't need to have a character arch. Something out of a Gondry flick, but not as serious. It what goes on in the mind of someone suffering from OCD. Something that definitely looks cool, but is comical, dark, and simply fucked up.
I took an Insects and Civilization class as a general elective in college a few years back. It was an easy A. We learned about the nature of the common insects in the world and their functions in life. No surprises from the time of birth to the time of death. Their bodies and appearances serve a purpose. Butterflies display large eye-like markings on their wings to confuse or intimidate their enemies. Others naturally look like a thorn on a stem, or blend right into the whites of flowers. It all made sense. They live their lives on complete instinct. They don't think. They just DO.
Humans on the other hand are given a higher responsibility to be aware of their surroundings. We're instinctively a "good" species. We're social creatures not necessarily bound to survival of the fittest. The circle of life is more like a tall isosceles triangle for us, and we're at the top of it. We look for a higher purpose in life other than merely existing. At least I do.
I have yet to find a movie to clearly explain this "meaning" of life. The Matrix attempted to wow my mind with its Socratic philosophy. Agent Smith referred to us humans as a disease upon the earth, devouring ever natural resource in the area. Kinda makes me proud. By 'Revolutions' he asks the question "Why, why do you do it Mr Anderson? Is for any reason other than your own survival? Is there another reason? Can you tell me what it is? Do you even know? Is it for love? Is it for peace?..." Neo's repsonse (in my most excellent Keanu impression) "I do it, cuz I choose to."
I wonder if I wrote a movie that gave The Answer at the beginning, would people accept it? Probably not. I don't have the answer. It would either put aside religion, or give into one of them. If I wrote a book that just said "this is the way it is, this is what you have to do, this is how you're suppose to act." No more guessing. No more faith because the facts are here, dammit. No more choice. We'd all just be honeybees.
Humans on the other hand are given a higher responsibility to be aware of their surroundings. We're instinctively a "good" species. We're social creatures not necessarily bound to survival of the fittest. The circle of life is more like a tall isosceles triangle for us, and we're at the top of it. We look for a higher purpose in life other than merely existing. At least I do.
I have yet to find a movie to clearly explain this "meaning" of life. The Matrix attempted to wow my mind with its Socratic philosophy. Agent Smith referred to us humans as a disease upon the earth, devouring ever natural resource in the area. Kinda makes me proud. By 'Revolutions' he asks the question "Why, why do you do it Mr Anderson? Is for any reason other than your own survival? Is there another reason? Can you tell me what it is? Do you even know? Is it for love? Is it for peace?..." Neo's repsonse (in my most excellent Keanu impression) "I do it, cuz I choose to."
I wonder if I wrote a movie that gave The Answer at the beginning, would people accept it? Probably not. I don't have the answer. It would either put aside religion, or give into one of them. If I wrote a book that just said "this is the way it is, this is what you have to do, this is how you're suppose to act." No more guessing. No more faith because the facts are here, dammit. No more choice. We'd all just be honeybees.
So I just fast forwarded through the the old 1988 John Carpenter movie "They Live" starring Rowdy Roddy Piper.
.
...
.....
Damn. This movie is so stupid. My roommate gave me a quick rundown on the storyline. We paused at key moments such as the first time Roddy realized that these special sunglasses he had allowed him to see that aliens roamed the earth and are controlling us humans through consumerism. A billboard sign advertising electronics displayed the word "Obey" when these sunglasses were worn. Another ad for a carribbean cruise displayed "mate and pro-create." These glasses also allowed Roddy to differentiate between the humans and aliens walking among us. Fast forwarding some more, we come across another classic milestone between Roddy and his friend, who he tries to coax into wearing the sunglasses and verify that he isn't crazy. But no way sir. No. Roddy has to fight his friend WWF style into trying on these sunglasses! The fight lasts 12 minutes. I kid you not. WTF?! Someone actually made this movie?! Alright. That's it. I have to put out something.
Someone WILL buy it!
.
...
.....
Damn. This movie is so stupid. My roommate gave me a quick rundown on the storyline. We paused at key moments such as the first time Roddy realized that these special sunglasses he had allowed him to see that aliens roamed the earth and are controlling us humans through consumerism. A billboard sign advertising electronics displayed the word "Obey" when these sunglasses were worn. Another ad for a carribbean cruise displayed "mate and pro-create." These glasses also allowed Roddy to differentiate between the humans and aliens walking among us. Fast forwarding some more, we come across another classic milestone between Roddy and his friend, who he tries to coax into wearing the sunglasses and verify that he isn't crazy. But no way sir. No. Roddy has to fight his friend WWF style into trying on these sunglasses! The fight lasts 12 minutes. I kid you not. WTF?! Someone actually made this movie?! Alright. That's it. I have to put out something.
Someone WILL buy it!
Based on facts and centuries of research by every man who has ever been in a relationship with a woman.
Women lack the Y chromosome, which stabilizes the extreme behaviors between panic and reason. There is no cure for it. It is, what it is. Crazy. Inversely, men lack the ability to decipher this type of Crazy. It's God's personal entertainment. Its hilarious to all, except the poor guy currently enduring the wrath of the Crazy Gene.
I think I've got something here that people can relate to an see the humor in it. Obviously, some are going to get offended.
Basically women :::cough cough::: But it's ok. It'll be good publicity. And we'll blame it on the basis of our story: the Crazy Gene.
Its every "What is that suppose to mean?"
Its the "How can you say something like that?"
And of course the classic starter "Do you think these jeans make my butt look fat?" question.
Men in return, respond with their defective, insensitivity gene. "No, those jeans don't make your butt look fat. Your butt makes your butt look fat."
I think this can go back and forth infinitely. Now all it needs are some characters. I was thinking on the lines of the Mike Judge short series cartoons "Milton" that turned into the feature we all love Office Space.
I've never thought I'd be able to try and write a comedy. It's probably the hardest of all genres. People have such different senses of humor. Some, none at all. It's hard to make people laugh and still make a movie respectable. I hate movies like Soul Plane that obviously targets a specific race or culture. I can't stand the overflow of toilet humor. A joke that has no thought process behind it, no energy, its just a waste of my time. Thats not what this is.
Women lack the Y chromosome, which stabilizes the extreme behaviors between panic and reason. There is no cure for it. It is, what it is. Crazy. Inversely, men lack the ability to decipher this type of Crazy. It's God's personal entertainment. Its hilarious to all, except the poor guy currently enduring the wrath of the Crazy Gene.
I think I've got something here that people can relate to an see the humor in it. Obviously, some are going to get offended.
Basically women :::cough cough::: But it's ok. It'll be good publicity. And we'll blame it on the basis of our story: the Crazy Gene.
Its every "What is that suppose to mean?"
Its the "How can you say something like that?"
And of course the classic starter "Do you think these jeans make my butt look fat?" question.
Men in return, respond with their defective, insensitivity gene. "No, those jeans don't make your butt look fat. Your butt makes your butt look fat."
I think this can go back and forth infinitely. Now all it needs are some characters. I was thinking on the lines of the Mike Judge short series cartoons "Milton" that turned into the feature we all love Office Space.
I've never thought I'd be able to try and write a comedy. It's probably the hardest of all genres. People have such different senses of humor. Some, none at all. It's hard to make people laugh and still make a movie respectable. I hate movies like Soul Plane that obviously targets a specific race or culture. I can't stand the overflow of toilet humor. A joke that has no thought process behind it, no energy, its just a waste of my time. Thats not what this is.
This past weekend I saw the movie 300 for the third time. People laugh at the same places. They grunt or cheer at the right times, every time. And even though I know exactly what is about to happen, I'm still excited to see what is about to happen. It's the markings of every blockbuster film. People anticipate seeing it, they see it, they like it, then they see it again. My type of movie.
My story needs that blockbuster mentality. It needs that hitch, that formula. And even though I've been trained on a character based story, I gotta get that extra merchandise in there somehow. I know I'm getting ahead of myself and should be really "writing," but hey fuck you. This is my blog.
I just spent the last two hours with my roommate and a couple of friends talking about the upcoming summer blockbuster Transformers the movie. We did some research on why we're so damn excited about seeing this. Its the nostalgia for some of us. Its the robot fantasy awesomeness for others. It's all of it for me.
First, you take a fantastic childhood memory suppressed by years of reality and growing up and blow the dust off of it. It's like searching through the back corners of your closet and finding that piece of the action figure you loved but broke and didn't tell mom about it because she spent her hard earned money to keep you busy and not bother her. Second, you take the cheese factor out of it and revamp the story to cater to the adult that loved it 20 years ago. You make them remember what it was that made them love it so much. You make them forget about what is impossible or makes any sense. It doesn't matter that He-Man teamed up with Splinter and the rest of the Turtles who toured the living room floor riding a spaceship made out of Legos in search of blowing up Cobra Commander's base and fighting his personal body guard Megatron. Damn, toys are great. Third, you invest a shit load of money into it and give it the official Blockbuster seal of approval.
My story needs that blockbuster mentality. It needs that hitch, that formula. And even though I've been trained on a character based story, I gotta get that extra merchandise in there somehow. I know I'm getting ahead of myself and should be really "writing," but hey fuck you. This is my blog.
I just spent the last two hours with my roommate and a couple of friends talking about the upcoming summer blockbuster Transformers the movie. We did some research on why we're so damn excited about seeing this. Its the nostalgia for some of us. Its the robot fantasy awesomeness for others. It's all of it for me.
First, you take a fantastic childhood memory suppressed by years of reality and growing up and blow the dust off of it. It's like searching through the back corners of your closet and finding that piece of the action figure you loved but broke and didn't tell mom about it because she spent her hard earned money to keep you busy and not bother her. Second, you take the cheese factor out of it and revamp the story to cater to the adult that loved it 20 years ago. You make them remember what it was that made them love it so much. You make them forget about what is impossible or makes any sense. It doesn't matter that He-Man teamed up with Splinter and the rest of the Turtles who toured the living room floor riding a spaceship made out of Legos in search of blowing up Cobra Commander's base and fighting his personal body guard Megatron. Damn, toys are great. Third, you invest a shit load of money into it and give it the official Blockbuster seal of approval.
Driving down 4th street in Santa Monica you tend to notice a few things. This is a damn beautiful city. I'm not just talking about the atmosphere, the beach, or the posh shopping centers. The people here are straight out of a magazine. What the hell? And I'm not just being my regular perverted self. People walking the sidewalk look expensive. And they're not 'snooty' walking with their noses in the air like you'd imagine. They're friendly. Many are walking their dogs, jogging, or shopping with their significant others enjoying an overcast Sunday. I'm envious, trying to blend right in. Here I am driving my newly washed convertible with the top down, listening to euro-influenced electronica rock heading into the parking structure across the street from the overpriced interior design store where I'm about to spend a little over $300 on a mirror and shelves for my room. It's so LA.
Since I started this blog, thinking about stories is my 'thing' while driving from place to place. After picking up my overpriced furniture from the warehouse around the back, I head south down Lincoln, slowly exiting this perfect world. The brick and thoughtfully designed architecture suddenly turns into the bland stucco I grew up with. And as I see the graffiti desperately trying to infect this perfect world, I return to my usual pessimistic self, immediately wondering how i myself could contribute to this infection.
This is the premise to my first story concept.
I often find myself thinking about my life and how I plan on making a difference. What is that one thing that's going to lead me to fame, fortune, and glory? If i died tomorrow, what would people remember me by, blah blah blah. And so, I wonder what the easy way out is.
The unnamed character's one purpose in life wasn't to better the world, but only to corrupt it. Well, maybe not the world. Let's think smaller scale, say a city. Beautiful Santa Monica. What would he do to genuinely fuck things up? Not mass murdering the city with a machine gun or anything. No. That's not nearly enough. The city would mourn for a week, then return to it's perfect dog-walking, casual-jogging self. We're talking about letting the economic flood gates of hell open. Turning Santa Monica into Cracktown, USA. Being the one person responsible for all this. Yeah. That'll make a difference.
Since I started this blog, thinking about stories is my 'thing' while driving from place to place. After picking up my overpriced furniture from the warehouse around the back, I head south down Lincoln, slowly exiting this perfect world. The brick and thoughtfully designed architecture suddenly turns into the bland stucco I grew up with. And as I see the graffiti desperately trying to infect this perfect world, I return to my usual pessimistic self, immediately wondering how i myself could contribute to this infection.
This is the premise to my first story concept.
I often find myself thinking about my life and how I plan on making a difference. What is that one thing that's going to lead me to fame, fortune, and glory? If i died tomorrow, what would people remember me by, blah blah blah. And so, I wonder what the easy way out is.
The unnamed character's one purpose in life wasn't to better the world, but only to corrupt it. Well, maybe not the world. Let's think smaller scale, say a city. Beautiful Santa Monica. What would he do to genuinely fuck things up? Not mass murdering the city with a machine gun or anything. No. That's not nearly enough. The city would mourn for a week, then return to it's perfect dog-walking, casual-jogging self. We're talking about letting the economic flood gates of hell open. Turning Santa Monica into Cracktown, USA. Being the one person responsible for all this. Yeah. That'll make a difference.
