so this is what it feels like being a star? people come and party at your house giving less than a shit about anything but themselves.

fantastic.

this was supposed to be one of the best nights of my life.

it's already the worst and it hasn't even started.

so so sad

i stumbled across this recent picture of film critic Roger Ebert and it made me undeniably sad. here's to hoping that the big guy keeps on keepin' on. sticking those two thumbs up the ass of his sickness. kudos roger ebert!

(source: suntimes.com)

motion motion motion...only forward motion

there's something in the air. i can feel it. and it's more than just summer vacation. more than just being a graduate student (finally). more than an upcoming trip. something i can't define. something larger than me.

and the plans and ideas are being planted. i can feel them molding into my brain. i have many things to accomplish within the next two years.

and are they attainable?

you bet your sweet little ass they are.

confirmation and details later.

huff puff

this week has been/continues to be super-de-duper busy. every night has been a different event:

monday: grindhouse with alec
tuesday: ADR (sound looping) for third rail mice // little children with matthew
wednesday: "evening of dance" with dave // hair dying session with taylor d.
thursday: chock full o' notes a capella show with taylor
friday: iris' senior recital // england party
saturday: "evening of dance" (again) with matthew
sunday: PSA filming.

whew...that's hectic. but you know, i actually enjoy the busyness. it makes me feel like i have more to look forward to. it's nice to be inspired every once in a while.

and it provides me with something to do other than either: 1. hang alone (not that there's anything wrong with that) or; 2. go out drinking. finally i've met people who are interested in THINGS. actual, real life things that you can remember. where were they before i drank? where were they those incredibly lonely and mind-boggling years at the beginning of college? why has it taken me this long to meet people who are my speed? i don't understand it. the beginning of keene was virtually intolerable without the solace of alcohol. i'm glad i actually dealt with those feelings instead of seeking comfort in the arms of intoxication. i delved into things that made me a better person: books, movies, exercise...and when my heart got broken, i knew how to deal with it without a bottle.

people always say "there's nothing to do in keene, nh," but in reality, there's PLENTY to do; they would rather have a beer. bowling? plays? speakers? movies? art exhibits? there's quite a bit if you only just look beyond the exterior of the frat house. there's a whole world there waiting to be discovered. i know: i've looked at keene without beer goggles. trust me...it's nicer than you think.

alright, enough of that. at work now, discussing the exchange possibilities. i never thought i could be as passionate about the philosophies of study abroad as i am. i thoroughly enjoy my work. i feel as though i make a difference. i provide these students with a vessel to explore a world they haven't seen with open eyes.

i want to go abroad again at some point. i would like it to be australia, but i'm really not all too particular. whether it be working there during the summer or doing some sort of graduate study. i'm not sure yet. but here, amidst people who understand, i can feel the possibilities rise, swell, and overflow.

...my cup runneth over.

ethics over gin

so last night i saw little children. that movie gave me a mindfuck so bad i couldn't even move afterwards. it just laid on top of me for hours.

afterwards matthew and i went for a drink at a local bar: tony c's. it's a nice little spot, chock full of that trying hard to be a semi-nice new york dive bar, but ultimately failing. it's aplace for a strong drink and a smoke indoors...if that's your thing. which it is. so i dig it.

When we get there, over the calming burn of a cigarette, matthew and i begin talking ethics. specifically, we were discussing the ethics of the movie, but it was really justone of those conversations where we both knew we were covertly applying it to our own lives. (it's something you can't help but do as a thoughtful person). eventually we get to the topic of having children and whether or not its selfish to have a child if you're unwilling to sacrifice your own pleasure. i agree with that statement: yes, of course it's selfish to do that. do people do it anyway? of course. people have children all the time for all of the wrong reason: somebody to love them,to save a relationship, for pity or privilidge. but moreover, i realized, i can never get to that point.

matt and i have this realization at the same moment:

we are both undeniably, ridiculous, and hopelessly selfish people. both incapable of putting aside our own wants for another person. and yes, wants...not wants and needs. i never really go for what i need. do i get it? nine times out of ten, no. do i try in vain anyway? indeed i do. yessireebob.

at this point, taylor arrives at the bar interrupting the all-too-intense self realizations and quelling our thoughts with a shot of tequila. smart people can be so dumb sometimes. especially in the face tuesday night that's revealed their own callous hearts. and we begin discussing relationships.

oh joy of joys. two ex-boyfriends who i happen to be friends with discussing their sex lives and how our waitress fills out her pants well. not that i care all that much, but sometimes, when a girl has gotten all dooded up for a night on the town (regardless of whether or not she's going with someone who is a potential date/romp in the hay), she just wants all attention on her. it's the girly side of me that i surpress so hard until it comes roaring out with a: hey. you know what would be fun? if you wore those jeans that make your ass look good tonight. and i say, "thank you girly thoughts. i think i will do that."

alas, those nights are never the ones that get me laid. it's when i'm sweatered out at a skeezy bar, smoking my last cigarette, and playing erotic photo hunt: babes edition.

in any case, we're discussing the girls at the bar that they find attractive. all butterfaces, but ya know, generic hottness (and p.s. does that come in a bottle somewhere? am i missing something?) and i simply sit there in wonder, astonishment even.

in my head all i think is: i am sitting at a table with two ex-boyfriends who are assessing the asses of the girls around us and i just casually cross my arms lean back and accept it.

i am a goddamn goddess. my patience is near zen-like. and perhaps this is why my relationships never work.

after pondering my unique and rare ability to maintain friendships with dicks i've had sex with i snap out of it, grab another cigarette, and sip my jack and ginger...secretly biting down on the straw and hoping the teeth marks stick. i offer to buy us all another drink. and do.

and for a little while, over the cheers and clinking of glasses to no toast, i think to myself: and i'm going to miss these twoand their conversations more than anyone.

and suddenly...california...was real.

assortments

so, in spite of my best efforts i, unfortunately did not accomplish much last week. instead, i got a kidney infection.

boo.

on the up side, i have been writing quite a bit. need to get my taxes done tonight (i know, i know: down to the wire), but i have them basically figured out. may be going to see grindhouse as well provided it all gets done in a timely manner.

and here, for the adorable kat who proposed a challenge: use alluvial soil in a poem. and just for that...she makes a cameo (what can i say? i love write-off challenges). without further ado: my alluvial soil poem.

Rain on Umbrellas

Sounds like static electricity
Little gunshots firing at my eyes
Hoping to sting, hiss, bite,
But deflected by plain
Rubber (my skin too rough
To touch, too slippery).
At night it threatens stars
(truth be told) digging the
Alluvial soil that kate yearns
To nourish calilies. Instead
They drown. And stars—slightly
Embarrassed—hide behind the
darkest clouds (I umbrella my face,
standing like a mushroom at the sound of
A footstep).
And in the evening
It's boisterous, alluring
Looming and longing
To matter, wanting to echo
(your words never cease
to play haunted harpsichord
melodies), my heart, my neurons:
always synapsing sparks like
supernovas in the firmament
unobserved.

what to do with to do lists.

As most of you may have heard at this point, I have been accepted to the University of Southern California's Masters Program for Professional Writing. In this program, I will allotted time to study across disciplines. The program has renowned faculty spanning from Marc Norman (Shakespeare In Love) to Janet Fitch (White Oleander) to John Rappaport (MASH). Perhaps one of the most impressive things to me, as an aspiring screenwriter, Syd Field teaches at the program.

How the hell did that happen?

So, as soon as I fill out my financial aid and send in my letter of intent, I shall be a USC Trojan. Scary as all get out. But ridiculously exciting. I have never been a huge fan of L.A., but as of recent, I have found myself innately drawn to the area. I am curious to be around those who all have similar passions to mine: movies, writing, art, music, all of the above. I want to surround myself, immerse myself, and be overcome with the overwhelming sadistic melancholy of creativity. I love the magic of process, the consistent gelling and ungelling of words and ideas and theory. It all flows through me like blood: my heart pumps inspiration and dreams only.

I have begun to make lists of things I would like to accomplish. Here is the short term list:

• Begin working out again. At the gym. At home. Wherever. Warmer weather = running.
• Start bringing lunch to work. Have healthy options.
• Write everyday.
• Read those books I've been putting off forever.
• Devise documentary travel itinerary.
• Apply for financial aid.
• Organize housing situation.
• Plan road trip.

And then there are the ideals:

• Work overseas summer 2008.
• Research writing internships/conferences/workshops within the U.S. and abroad.
• Look into film jobs in L.A.
• Come up with a submission-worthy manuscript of poetry.
• Work on short fiction novel started in September.
• Finish documentary.
• Audition, audition, audition.

Yeah, sure, these are long-term goals. But on the same token, I really feel as though these are things I must force myself to do. I expect nothing less than my own set goals for the future. These things will make me happy, and although they may be difficult to achieve, I know that it will be worth it. When I do things I set out to do, I feel accomplished, motivated, and full of inner life.

My best friend, Megan, said to me the other day: "I've given up trying to convince you to stay, because you are just not the type of person to settle until you're ready, and who knows where that will be. And no one can convince you otherwise." And it's very true. I love the adaptability of circumstance, chance, and choice. The three c's have guided me steadfast and true through the toughest of situations, through the muck of indecision, and the brutal severity of crisis. What it comes down to is that these three things are what define us all. You can choose which one is the be all end all. I have always been a choice sort of gal. Circumstance and chance are what come afterwards. But it could be just me. Others think otherwise.

*sigh* I think I'm done writing for the moment. Work is calling me back to its mundane fax machine cubicle life.

But that's okay. Sometimes the predictable can be oddly soothing when nothing but adventure paves the path before you.

Out like a trout,

L-dizzle fer rizzle

without the pain, where would we be?

happy. i'm happy. the kind of happy that comes from only within. i feel as though spring has released me of my self-indulgent prison. it's as good as it gets and thensome.

i believe it started with the cruise. something about visiting foreign countries, traveling, sunshine, beaches, culture...i don't know. all of it combined pulls me into an absolute mess of euphoria. i've realized recently that i am just not the type of girl to be tamed. i wish to all get out sometimes that i were. but i'm not. i like seeing new things. i like experiencing. i like discovering that you know nothing about the multitude of things you thought you knew everything about.

it's the little things lately that get me: silly conversations over pizza and fountain soda, the cool taste of water, the wind chilling me to the bone, a night in with friends.

all of it makes sense and feels right for where i am in my life right now.

being loved feels amazing, but not as amazing as being alone. at least right now.

finally, things seem to be falling in place. i am DOING things. i am ready for all that life has to offer me: a swift punch and a sharp blow and a few tears. maybe it is time to stop fearing the vulnerability that is innate to me, the scary experience of being human. i can let people in. they can care about me without a hug or a kiss. they can care about me with a smile and a soft brush of the hand.

i love love. but more than that: i feel loved. everyone who has put up with me during this tumultous year of transit has helped me to realize what's important. it's been a painful, strenuous, all-consuming year filled with memories i'm sure plenty would rather forget. and yet, i am the happier for them. i have learned a lot about me, about the relationships i pursue: romantic or otherwise. i am capable of realizing who ACTUALLY cares now.

and i am able to let myself care back.

thank you.

--L-dizzle.