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Hookah, nicotine, and caffeine...

INT. NINA'S BEDROOM - EARLY AS FUCK IN THE MORNING

5 hours until class, and 30 pages left to write. EEEP.

So, I'm totally freaking out --- our final assignment in my screenwriting class is to do coverage on someone else's script. Great assignment, but here's the thing -- Brian Price (the embodiment of perfection, and my teacher) knows that not all of us are going to actually FINISH our screenplays -- so he said to summarize all of the scenes that we haven't gotten to yet, so the script will make total sense.

My problem with that -- I've slacked off a bit, for one. Okay, not a bit, A LOT. But -- I have about 7 scenes that I need to add, and I've only done 2 so far. Oh god, 4 hours until my econ final -- EEEP again! Not that I'm freaking out or anything.

So, I'm smoking hookah, sipping on my rum/coke (why I'm drinking? NOT A CLUE), and going out of my mind. It turns out that the ending I originally planned on will TOTALLY NOT WORK, so I have to come up with an entirely new ending by...hmmm...9am?! And it's about 5:45 or so -- should be interesting.

But you know what? It's my first draft, my shit draft, my puke draft -- and I'll just re-write it later. Because I just can. Thank god I'm not being commissioned! Although, I have a feeling that I would totally be more motivated if I had a million producers and studio execs breathing down my neck every five minutes.

End scene.

I don't know whether I was to cry or vomit.

INT. NINA'S BEDROOM - EARLY MORNING

I don't know whether I was to cry or vomit.

I'm in the middle of writing a scene in my screenplay -- one of the hardest scenes, emotionally. It's the scene where the father of my main character (Ryan) finds out that Ryan has been hiding his "gay" relationship. Gay is in quotes because it just makes it easier to explain -- the screenplay takes place in a world where homosexuality is the dominant sexual preference, so technically, he's "straight"...but for understanding purposes, we'll just go with "real world" terms.

RYAN = Main character
JULIE = Ryan's love interest
JARED = the Mayor, also Ryan's father
ALEXANDER = Ryan's dad (mother figure)
EILEEN = Julie's mother, also the pastor of the church

Anyway, the father finds out that he is gay -- finds him half-naked in the room with Julie, his girlfriend (which, again, in this world, is a BIG no-no). Alexander takes Julie upstairs and has her call her mother. Eileen tells Alexander to keep Julie there and make her watch Ryan get beaten so she'll learn her lesson. Jared continues to beat Ryan, forcing him to look at Julie and recite a bible passage (Proverbs 26:11 --- "As a dog returns to its vomit, so a fool repeats his folly.") over and over again.

I feel sick to my stomach. I want to cry. I want to scream at the world. I want someone to hold me and tell me that everything is going to be okay. I love my screenplay, and feel as though it is a part of me -- an extention of me, a piece of my heart and soul. When Ryan gets beaten, I feel it. When Julie cries, I feel it. When Jared beats Ryan -- I feel that, too. I feel disgusting. I feel dirty. I feel competely and utterly alone. I just want it to be over and done with -- but I can't cry. Because if I cry, I can't write. And I'll get sleepy -- and I have to be awake for court in 3 hours -- so I can't and shouldn't sleep.

My heart aches. I keep trying to tell myself that it's not real -- but to me, it is. These characters are my friends. They've been with me for months in actual form -- but with me all of my life. I'd like to think that this happens to other people -- but I have a feeling that I am alone in this pain. This agony. I just want it to be over. But it won't be until I finish writing.

My pillow looks like it needs a good hug. Or maybe that's just me.

Another book...

INT. BEDROOM - NIGHT

After getting absolutely no sleep last night, I finished writing 26 pages. That was 26 pages in about...hmmm...6-7 hours? Something like that. I'm pretty proud. But to be honest, I have no idea what the fuck I actually wrote.

Before I really got on a roll last night, I mustered up the courage to email Monica (since her email address was on the business card she gave me). Looked for bar tending jokes for about 45 minutes to get the right one to send to her -- and ended up doing a blog-style rant!! Granted, I wrote it at about 3am, and I was completely brain-dead. The email I sent could have either gone really, REALLY well -- or really, REALLY badly. Turns out, it went well! She emailed me back today!!! And she was being cute and witty. Oh dear god, I hope she doesn't find this blog and think I'm some kind of weirdass stalker. Meh, too late now. Well, I guess there's always the whole 'ctrl-A/delete' function. But that requires a little bit more effort than I'm willing to put in. Wrote her another email a few minutes ago. I should learn not to write emails at the wee hours of the mornin'. Well, that and the only sleep I've gotten since Monday was a 3 hour nap at Dan's house tonight. Why am I awake again?

Back to my post title -- yes, a new book! Granted, I've only read the introduction -- but I like it already! It's called, "Writing Television Sitcoms," by Evan S. Smith. Should be good. I'm trying to broaden my horizons (or some kind of zen shit like that) when it comes to my upcoming career.

I figured out one of my problems when it comes to writing. I'm way too focused on the future -- being on a staff, what should I would be working for, etc. And I haven't even finished one script! Technically, I'm not even a real screenwriter until I've finished -- AND I TOTALLY HAVEN'T!!!! But, granted, I'm well on my way. And the next week or two will be really intense, writing wise. May have to stop playing strip monopoly to avoid my educational duties. Sad day.

I'm going to go and do something productive -- probably read/edit the scripts (all 9 of them) that need to get taken care of by tomorrow's class. Ugh. If I have to write another "How Do We Know?" comment, I just might vomit. That, and I'm tired of circling/x-ing out 'is' and 'are.' Come on people!!! Hehe...and there's your daily rant.

Not even going to bother with the usual ending comment,
--N--

SCRREEEEEECH.

INT. BEDROOM - DAWN

I just heard the most horrifying sound.

I was outside, smoking yet another cigarette when all of a sudden, I hear a cat down the street. Now, the cat was SCREAMING. I'm telling you, screaming. As if the cat was being raped by a rhinoceros. I was petrified. Yet fascinated. I probably should feel guilty, but I'm too far tired to truly care.

To all screenwriters:

I have been working on my screenplay (A Boy and a Girl) for the past 4 months. And, as far as features go, I'm pretty sure it's normal to feel like your characters are like friends that just exist on paper/in your head. For the past couple hours, I've been talking to this girl (Presley) that I met on myspace. Yes, yes, I know myspace is from satan, yadda-yadda-yadda. But it turns out that she is the total embodiment of one of my main characters (Julie, the love interest of my protag.) She even looks exactly like I pictured her!! To the Tee! I'm racking my brain, because this is just too weird. Has this ever happened to anyone else? Lee Goldberg, has this ever happened to you? I mean, besides when you're done casting, of course. This is insane!

Okay, rant over. But she inspired me (in a weird way) to write, so now, instead of having 40 plus pages to write, I only have 27 or so to go. But, then again, I only have 2 hours to get them taken care of!! But the good news is that I've already written 7 of those pages...took a short cut for last week's assignment, just wrote the required "page 75 scene." So, 20 pages to go -- 2 hours to go. 10 pages an hour. Should be an interesting 2 hours!!

"Passive verbs"...I don't know why I even bother anymore,
--N--

INT. NINA'S ROOM - NIGHT...REALLY LATE...REALLY REALLY LATE...

I have about 40 pages of my screenplay to write before 9:00am. I'm one page...umm...50. I need to be on 90 for class tomorrow. AHHHH! BIT WRITER FREAKOUT!!!! And I am somewhat loathing my script. It's a really cool concept, if I do say so myself, but I'm so afraid of (pardon my sailor's mouth) FUCKING it up. Because frankly...that's what's going to happen! And no matter how much I tell myself, "I can always change it, I can always change it," I'm stunted. It's outlined, it's been mulled over a billion times through my brain -- this should be easy. But it's not.

I hate writer's block! And, on top of that, there's a scene that is critical that I have tomorrow...but do I have it? NOPE! Not in the least! I don't even know where to being! But, naturally, I'm putting all of my writing efforts into a blog that virtually no one reads (apologies to my lovely actress friend, and to Lee).

I've got plenty of energy, considering I woke up at 2:00 in the afternoon, and I've had probably a lethal dose of caffeine. Oh yes, I have the Pepsi shakes! Hehehe...wait, that sounds weird. CONSIDER THIS: I don't mean Pepsi shakes, like milk shakes...I mean, my hands are shaking as I type, and I've probably also had a pack of Camels within the past 4 hours. I get a rush of creativity, then immediately go out for a cigarette. And come back inside -- AND THERE IT SITS. My screenplay, looming over me like an angry corba about to strike. Okay, maybe not to that extent.

Don't get me wrong, I love screenwriting. Absolutely LOVE it. I couldn't imagine doing anything else. Accept for blogging at 3 in the morning to pass the time, of course. But you know what I mean. It's my passion, it's what keeps me going in the mornings. Well, that and Red Bull. Wow, I drink a lot of caffeine. My liver is probably cursing my name right now. "Damn you, Nina. I swear, it doesn't matter that you barely drink -- you are drowning me in filth!" Okay, the dialogue needs work, but you get the picture. HELP!!! MY SCREENPLAY IS SHIT!!!!

Actually, it's decent, I'm just freaking myself out because -- I don't really know, to be honest. Why do I do that? Ahhh, self-sabotage. A wonderfully crafted device to kill my hopes and dreams in one foul SWOOP.

Argh.

Poop.

My back hurts. My headache is gone, though. Ahh, back to perspective. And boobs, of course. But I think we've already gone over that. Moving on...

Everyone is zzzzzz-ing. Actually, my roommates are probably fucking in the next room, because they do that a lot. Go fucking. Glad people are getting laid. I've noticed recently that there is a pattern when it comes to relationships/sex. During the winter months are when break-ups happen the most. Me and Amy, Dan and Emily...there's more, but I don't feel like rehashing peoples' pain right now. And in the spring, things start to blossom! Dan and Alayna, Tim and Crystal, Erika and Scott (although, they never really had a huge problem...oh wait, never mind...there was that one thing...I'm blabbing in parenthesis...I do need sleep), Tony and Jessica. All having wonderful sex (why I know this, I do not know), and all in blooming relationships. Well, summer doesn't start for a little while, so I guess I have some time to catch up. Mmmm, Monica. We'll see about her.

I should get back to my screenplay. It will bite me HARD in the ass if I don't, so I don't want to be in the doghouse with the wonderful Brian Price (screenwriting teacher, and lord of all to exist) tomorrow. Until next time.

Passive verbs...ah, fuck it,
--N--

Cleanliness

INT. NINA'S BEDROOM - NIGHT

I feel like cleaning my room.

For those of you who don't know me personally, this is a statement that is SELDOM heard. My room is by far the most disgusting room to ever exist. That's right, people -- EVER. I look around and see little spots of actual floor...but I really have to look. Mostly clothes everywhere...but there's a lot of empty water bottles, some full of sunflower seed shells. My old tv is sitting in the middle of my room, empty cigarette boxes form a barrier between the television and the rest of the room.

That's just a few feet of the room that I have just described. I just wanted to share with all, that cleaning is typically not in my vocabulary. But, it shall be clean, once again. My iPod is fully charged, and updated with my recent playlist "Weird Al/System of a Down." Now, that may sound odd to all of you, and I wish I could actually provide you with an explaination as to why this mix was created -- but I don't have answers to everything. Especially a mix like that. But, I will listen, and laugh at my own obscurity.

Passive verbs come from yadda-yadda-yadda,
--N--

"Early in the morning, riding through the streets..."

Oh boy, people -- it's been a day.

I was on a train for EIGHT AND A HALF HOURS today. That's right. 8.5 HOURS. That's a lot of time being cooped up in a big tin can, my friends. A lllloooonnnngggg time. But, I'm over it. Not really, but we can pretend.

But I did get some work done. My train family (the 8 or 9 people in my train car...we became family, trust me), helped me come up with a movie idea based on our situation. And so now, I have a horror film in the works about people cooped up in a train. Should be interesting. From Solana Beach to Ventura. At least that was my route. Most of the others were going all the way to Goleta. Poor bastards. But I met some great people -- REALLY great people. And some not so great people, but that's beside the point. My point is -- I'm tired, and I should probably go to bed -- okay, actual point pending.

........

.............

Ah ha! My point is, that I met some incredible people, and that you can always turn a bad situation into a good one (or the other way around) depending on your perspective. It's all about perspective, people. All about perspective. And boobs. Perspective and boobs...that's what life is truly about. Your moment of zen brought to you by a very tired lesbian.

Passive verbs come from the devil (in screenplay descriptions only),
--N--