I am, above all else, a creative soul. I am addicted to film making, reading and writing. Over the past few years, film has become my passion.
Ever Saturday since I can remember, up until the age of thirteen, I spent the night watching movies with my dad. Though there were many reruns of the Star Wars and Jurassic Park trilogies, there was also a healthy dose of classic film. At a very young age I became obsessed with old monster movies such as Frankenstein, Dracula, The Invisible Man, and King Kong. I was fascinated by the art of the black and white films and the beauty of the old-Hollywood actors.
At the age of ten, I discovered Tim Burtons artful and, occasionally, frightening films. He instantly became my hero. The Nightmare Before Christmas, Edward Scissorhands, and Sleepy Hollow became my new obsessions. The design of the characters, the darkness of the stories, and the aesthetics of the films’ design stuck in my mind. I started to think, “Why am I not doing this?” “When is it my turn?” I wanted to be a film maker.
Fortunately, there has always been a video camera in my house hold. Home movies were constantly being shot every time my sister or I decided to do something cute. I commandeered the camera and began shooting my first short films; classics such as “The Dog That Ate My Shoe” and “The Amazing Flying Budgie” became a reality. I wanted more.
I needed to fuel my passion, to charge my creativity, so I began writing. I took snippets from my favorite films and interjected my own ideas. I filled dozens of notebooks with short film ideas, play scripts, conceptual art, and character analysis. I showed the scripts and ideas to all my friends. I corralled them into being my actors, subjecting them to my every critique and changing the films direction on a whim. Once I had sucked them dry of their willingness to cooperate, I found new subjects. I soon had actors at my beckon call for any film I felt like making.
More recently has my taste in film and my film making style matured, as has my lifestyle, into something a bit more artistic and a bit more deep. My new inspiration is the work Andy Warhol, his “factory” members, and the fast paced lifestyle he led. I’ve begun finding my own “super stars” and leading them into the proverbial lime-light. I have my very own Edie Sedgwick, whom whole-heartedly believes I am indeed the next Warhol. For now, that is.
My views on the world, my artistic edge, my creative flow, and my film making style are ever changing. One week you may find me in the middle of a corn field filming a silent sci-fi flick. The next week I am in an abandoned home filming a gory horror movie. Every so often, however, something really grabs me and inspires me to do something brilliant that you’ve never seen before.
Wednesday, January 17
Tuesday, January 2
Long Time No Words
I haven't posted on here in foreeeever!! I feel so bad about that. Mostly to myself. I really wanted to be commited to this and keep posting every day, but it's been way too long I've just been busy, I guess. Maybe lazy. Maybe both. I'm probably just slacking off and don't want to admit to myself how lazy I really am so I make up that I'm really just very busy. Anyhow, moving on.
I cannot wait to graduate from highschool. I cannot wait to graduate, period. Highschool, College, all of it. I just want it to be done. I like learning on my own time. I hate time restraints and requirements and grades and the whole thing. I'd rather just go to the library, pick up a book, and learn about things I really want to know. If I really wanted to know about mathmatical theorems and equations, which I really don't, I would go find out about them on my own.
Continuing on from that, alot of people my age see college as a freeing experience. It's a way to get away from parents, and your hometown, and occaisonally a chance to find out who you are on your own. In many ways it is. But for someone who has already began her higher learning education, I know the many new difficulties that go along with fending for yourself. College professors are much less willing to help you along and find, or hand, you shortcuts to better grades. They expect to hand you a syllabus on day one and they expect it to be complete by the end of class. If you can't handle their class or their curriculum, they will flat out tell you to get out. That's the end of it. No questions asked. If you can't cut it, they cut you off. The harsh reality is that being on your own and college is really being on your own at college. There is no Mommy and Daddy to catch you when you fall. You either learn to catch yourself, or fall flat on your face.
I cannot wait to graduate from highschool. I cannot wait to graduate, period. Highschool, College, all of it. I just want it to be done. I like learning on my own time. I hate time restraints and requirements and grades and the whole thing. I'd rather just go to the library, pick up a book, and learn about things I really want to know. If I really wanted to know about mathmatical theorems and equations, which I really don't, I would go find out about them on my own.
Continuing on from that, alot of people my age see college as a freeing experience. It's a way to get away from parents, and your hometown, and occaisonally a chance to find out who you are on your own. In many ways it is. But for someone who has already began her higher learning education, I know the many new difficulties that go along with fending for yourself. College professors are much less willing to help you along and find, or hand, you shortcuts to better grades. They expect to hand you a syllabus on day one and they expect it to be complete by the end of class. If you can't handle their class or their curriculum, they will flat out tell you to get out. That's the end of it. No questions asked. If you can't cut it, they cut you off. The harsh reality is that being on your own and college is really being on your own at college. There is no Mommy and Daddy to catch you when you fall. You either learn to catch yourself, or fall flat on your face.
Thursday, November 30
You've got a friend in me
Once upon a time there was a little girl. She believed that she could still survive, even though she was alone in the world. She thought it would make her stronger, not having anyone around to care for her. With time she grew weak and weary from being alone in her own mind for so long. Her heart had grown cold. The only emotion she had left for others was disdain. They meant nothing to her, because she meant nothing to them. Then one day, or really over a few years, certain people began to see the girl for what, and who, she truly was. They loved her and she began to love them in return. Though, it took a few years for her to remember what it meant to love, she was able to love again. She became a better person for it.
If this story sounds at all familiar, you probably know me. You've probably known me for years if you know that story. Or, the other alternative, this story is also about you, whether you be male or female. Gender is always interchangeable. The only difference, really, is in the actual meaning of gender. One inserts and one receives. Otherwise, we're all the same. Anyway, I was once alone. Though that "once" lasted for many years. My family stopped caring about me and the way I felt and who I was the second I entered the double digits of age. I had a few great friends until I was about 14. Two of my best friends moved away. The other, well, that's a different story. I was no longer "cool" enough for this so called friend. I had known her for 4 years but suddenly the "cool" people she had known for 4 months became her top priority. I was pushed to the bottom of her popularity ladder and they took my spot. However, when I showed any sign of moving away from her, from pushing her down on my own so-called ladder, she dropped me off hers completely. I was no longer good enough, no longer important. So, for the next two years I remained alone. I would attempt to reconvene with certain lost friendships but it was never successful. I was even less successful in the department of romance. The opposite gender barely glanced in my direction, and if they did it was merely to ogle at my cleavage [which has always been abundant]. I wasn't about to be their eye-candy. That wasn't what I was looking for.
When I turned sixteen everything changed. I had a new best friend. She cared about me more than I cared about myself. Over the next rocky year we had our downs and ups, including some very steep downs that seemed to last a lifetime. But a year strong we are closer than ever. A year after meeting her, I met my current boyfriend. I happened upon him in the hallway one day talking to our friend, the crazy republican Texan. He has no idea how thankful I am for him knowing Sean. [Sean is my boyfriend, and the only specific name I will mention] Sean is the fluorescent, buzzing, flickering light of my life. He is crazy and adorable and annoying and lovable and horrible all wrapped up into one person. He is my imperfect perfection. I love him.
If not for my best friend and Sean, who doubles as my best friend, I would probably not have survived. I've gone through so many difficult times I don't know what I would do without them. They mean more to me than the world and I owe them everything.
If this story sounds at all familiar, you probably know me. You've probably known me for years if you know that story. Or, the other alternative, this story is also about you, whether you be male or female. Gender is always interchangeable. The only difference, really, is in the actual meaning of gender. One inserts and one receives. Otherwise, we're all the same. Anyway, I was once alone. Though that "once" lasted for many years. My family stopped caring about me and the way I felt and who I was the second I entered the double digits of age. I had a few great friends until I was about 14. Two of my best friends moved away. The other, well, that's a different story. I was no longer "cool" enough for this so called friend. I had known her for 4 years but suddenly the "cool" people she had known for 4 months became her top priority. I was pushed to the bottom of her popularity ladder and they took my spot. However, when I showed any sign of moving away from her, from pushing her down on my own so-called ladder, she dropped me off hers completely. I was no longer good enough, no longer important. So, for the next two years I remained alone. I would attempt to reconvene with certain lost friendships but it was never successful. I was even less successful in the department of romance. The opposite gender barely glanced in my direction, and if they did it was merely to ogle at my cleavage [which has always been abundant]. I wasn't about to be their eye-candy. That wasn't what I was looking for.
When I turned sixteen everything changed. I had a new best friend. She cared about me more than I cared about myself. Over the next rocky year we had our downs and ups, including some very steep downs that seemed to last a lifetime. But a year strong we are closer than ever. A year after meeting her, I met my current boyfriend. I happened upon him in the hallway one day talking to our friend, the crazy republican Texan. He has no idea how thankful I am for him knowing Sean. [Sean is my boyfriend, and the only specific name I will mention] Sean is the fluorescent, buzzing, flickering light of my life. He is crazy and adorable and annoying and lovable and horrible all wrapped up into one person. He is my imperfect perfection. I love him.
If not for my best friend and Sean, who doubles as my best friend, I would probably not have survived. I've gone through so many difficult times I don't know what I would do without them. They mean more to me than the world and I owe them everything.
Sunday, November 26
Picturesque
I feel like posting a bunch of pictures for no reason....They'll prolly be really random. Enjoy. =D
I <3 Ratties!!
Best British transvestite comedian EVER!! "Cake or death?!"
I want a ferret! =[
I've only ever seen one rainbow. This isn't even that one. This is some rainbow in Hawaii or something...
I <3 Ratties!!
Best British transvestite comedian EVER!! "Cake or death?!"
I want a ferret! =[
I've only ever seen one rainbow. This isn't even that one. This is some rainbow in Hawaii or something...
Saturday, November 25
The Right to Write
Bob Marley once said, "What we really want is the right to be right, and the right to be wrong."
I want to be a writer. Every fiber of my being aches for it. One of the only times I feel I am truly being myself is with a pen in my hand and an empty notebook to fill. I believe that the ultimate way to voice any opinion is through someone elses voice. Every writer gets the chance to do this, but not all take full advantage of it. As a writer you can basically say anything you want. As long as it comes from your character and not directly from you, you do no harm. You can live out any fantasy, any bizarre wish you please. It is written down and not performed and, thus, no harm done. You can be whatever you want to be. Atleast, for a moment in time.
I don't write often enough. Nor do I finish what I start writing often enough. I always come up with good ideas and then lose interest in them. It's weird. I just have too short an attention span to keep writing something thats like, 500 pages long. I'm better with about 10-50 pages.
I write screen plays sometimes too. But those are a bit of a fruitless effort. I don't really have the resources to get them filmed. And by resources, I mean enough friends to makes asses of themselves for a camera. The scripts that I write are pretty decent. And very varying in storyline/genre. I've written everything from silent films, to romance, to period peices, to Clerks-Eque films, to horror.
I'm an English major in college at the moment. But depending on where I end up going for my Bachelors, I may try to minor in Film Studies or something along those lines. I really don't know yet.
I want to be a writer. Every fiber of my being aches for it. One of the only times I feel I am truly being myself is with a pen in my hand and an empty notebook to fill. I believe that the ultimate way to voice any opinion is through someone elses voice. Every writer gets the chance to do this, but not all take full advantage of it. As a writer you can basically say anything you want. As long as it comes from your character and not directly from you, you do no harm. You can live out any fantasy, any bizarre wish you please. It is written down and not performed and, thus, no harm done. You can be whatever you want to be. Atleast, for a moment in time.
I don't write often enough. Nor do I finish what I start writing often enough. I always come up with good ideas and then lose interest in them. It's weird. I just have too short an attention span to keep writing something thats like, 500 pages long. I'm better with about 10-50 pages.
I write screen plays sometimes too. But those are a bit of a fruitless effort. I don't really have the resources to get them filmed. And by resources, I mean enough friends to makes asses of themselves for a camera. The scripts that I write are pretty decent. And very varying in storyline/genre. I've written everything from silent films, to romance, to period peices, to Clerks-Eque films, to horror.
I'm an English major in college at the moment. But depending on where I end up going for my Bachelors, I may try to minor in Film Studies or something along those lines. I really don't know yet.
Thursday, November 23
Turkey Day At Last
The winter holidays are a time when any family can come together and sit down for at least one civilized meal a year. [Maybe you can squeeze in two, with some promises of pie] My family has never really had problems being civil but we do have some problems with togetherness. My dads side of the family are all really close to one another, and I love them all very dearly. However, my moms side of the family is a different story. Almost every member of my moms family lives in a different state. When we go to my aunt's house in Pennsylvania once a year for Turkey Day festivities there isn't really much catching up or conversation except for the customary "How's school?" "Anything new happening in your life?" To which the most obvious and mechanical answers are "Fine.", and "Not much." Also, when we go to my aunt's house we all seem to fall into different groups. My aunt, uncle, cousin Allison and parents spend their time in the living room watching football or the yearly dog show. Me, my sister, and my cousin Meredith spend our time in the adjacent sitting room watching sitcom marathons and playing board games. Me and Meredith tend to float between rooms trying to interconnect the two groups, in a way. Then we all sit down to dinner and fill up on all the yummy food at least several family members have contributed, spend a few more hours separated into our rooms and then reconvene for dessert. Eventually we get bored of the charade and depart.
My favorite winter holiday by far, like most people, is Christmas. This fact is obviously ironic when you learn the fact that I am atheist. I love Christmas because this holiday mostly involves the people we really care about and gives us adequate time to spend with them, eat with them, and shower each other with pointless gifts. [come on, it's the thought that counts anyway] Every year my family has a group of our closest family friends over on Christmas Eve for dinner, and gift giving. This party used to be huge when I was little. We would attempt to cram about 20-25 people into our tiny apartment-like home and serve a buffet style meal. After which we would all separate into the living room and dining room and pass out gifts. Now the party has become much more toned down. The guest list now averages out at about 10-15 people and is much more intimate and, obviously, much less hectic. It's fun to sit around with the people you love and laugh until your sides hurt and really show them how much you love them. It just feels good.
Almost every Christmas morning my family has a set routine. We get up and make tea and coffee. My mom, my sister and I look through our stockings while my dad starts cooking breakfast. [crepes with berries and whipped cream and bacon...same thing every year and we only have it once a year] Then we all have breakfast together. Usually around this time my gramma shows up and eats with us. Then we move back into the living room and open the rest of our presents, including the ones Gramma brought with her when she arrived. After that's done we all get dressed and ready and head out to my aunt and uncles house. [this is a different aunt and uncle. this is my dads sister. the other was my moms. are you following me here?] Once we arrive, the process basically starts all over again. Food, Presents, Laughter. What more do we need?
Wednesday, November 22
On a lighter note...
We watched "Oh, Brother. Where art thou?" in my Film class tonight. I LOVE THAT MOVIE!! I never really fancied myself a George Clooney fan but I must admit he is great in that movie. Also, John Turturro is one of my favorite actors. He's so good. And pretty versatile. He's really good in "Secret Window."
Speaking of that, I love Johnny Depp too. [Ohgosh...Now I'm about to go off an amazing tangent. I love doing this.] Besides the fact that he is an amazingly attractive older man, He's a ridiculously talented actor. Probably my favorite movie he's been in is "Sleepy Hollow." Christina Ricci is also pretty great. I reallyreallyreally like her in "Ghost World." Her character is ... odd.... to say the very least. I never really understood the plot and/or storyline of that movie. But I did like it. Which I guess makes no sense but whatever.
We watched "Brick" too, a couple weeks ago, which is also an amazing movie. I swear to God I thought that kid from Third Rock had like, fallen off the face of the Earth until I saw that movie. And I lovelovelove the poem the one girl recites while playing piano. I have no idea who it's by though. I think it might be Emily Dickinson, but I'm not sure. I'll hafta find out. Hmmm...
What the hell did I start this off talking about? I'm so lost now. Crikey. I'm random. Ohwell....Uhmmm....NEW SUBJECT!
I made deviled eggs for Turkey Daaay!! They are mighty tastey. My boyfriend helped but he doesn't like eggs, so, yea, that's kinda weird. I actually don't like eggs either. Honestly, they creep me out a little bit. But deviled eggs are too tastey not to like. I <3 Turkey Day. HAPPY TURKEY DAY TO EVERYONE!! I'll probably post a solely Turkey Day related blog tomorrow night, after all the mass amount of food have been consumed. NightNight.
Speaking of that, I love Johnny Depp too. [Ohgosh...Now I'm about to go off an amazing tangent. I love doing this.] Besides the fact that he is an amazingly attractive older man, He's a ridiculously talented actor. Probably my favorite movie he's been in is "Sleepy Hollow." Christina Ricci is also pretty great. I reallyreallyreally like her in "Ghost World." Her character is ... odd.... to say the very least. I never really understood the plot and/or storyline of that movie. But I did like it. Which I guess makes no sense but whatever.
We watched "Brick" too, a couple weeks ago, which is also an amazing movie. I swear to God I thought that kid from Third Rock had like, fallen off the face of the Earth until I saw that movie. And I lovelovelove the poem the one girl recites while playing piano. I have no idea who it's by though. I think it might be Emily Dickinson, but I'm not sure. I'll hafta find out. Hmmm...
What the hell did I start this off talking about? I'm so lost now. Crikey. I'm random. Ohwell....Uhmmm....NEW SUBJECT!
I made deviled eggs for Turkey Daaay!! They are mighty tastey. My boyfriend helped but he doesn't like eggs, so, yea, that's kinda weird. I actually don't like eggs either. Honestly, they creep me out a little bit. But deviled eggs are too tastey not to like. I <3 Turkey Day. HAPPY TURKEY DAY TO EVERYONE!! I'll probably post a solely Turkey Day related blog tomorrow night, after all the mass amount of food have been consumed. NightNight.
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