Monday, July 03, 2006
I hate favors. I hate asking them because inside me there lives a very guilty girl who has absolutely no reason so feel guilt in the first place, but I cannot help it.
My petition is simple: No more Paris Hilton. As simple as that. I do NOT wish to see or hear from Miss Hilton again, not even if they name a new STD after her, I just want her to lock herself in one of her hotels and watch reruns of herself so she never has to show her face to the outside world again.
¨I WANNA HELP¨
Of course you do, hommes! All you gotta do is never touch the subject again. If someone says Paris this, Paris that, just ignore them. Sure, you WILL be hated for ignoring your friends, but soon enough everyone will hate them and YOU will be the life of the party. Just imagine yourself in a nice location with some good music playing, chatting with your friends about Aristotle and the immortality of crabs... You will be able to appreciate the morning dew glistening on a lovely pink carnation, the rainbow reflecting on a child´s smile, the sun shining furiously after a hard rain... Sure, you can do that now, but imagine doing it in a world without Paris... Priceless.
Rock and roll stars joined forces to defeat hunger and poverty in Africa. Cyber nerds can join to push Paris Hilton away from the spotlight. WE CAN DO IT!!!
But stay away from Nicole Ritchie. That bitch is cool.
Saturday, May 20, 2006
It’s been one of those crazy weeks. It started with a nice tan and it ended up with my peeling like a snake changing skins. I wish that was a metaphor, but it’s not. I’m literally peeling pieces of skin. That’s what happens when you don’t wear sunscreen on sun beds.
On Monday I took compliments from my friends on how finger-licking good I looked for my big bro’s wedding. Then my friends Isa and Lili came back to my house with me and we ordered two medium pizzas. Medium pizzas are small, there’s no question about it. While Isa and I watched “Finding Nemo” on HBO Lili was talking to her boss and was fired over the phone. It wasn’t nice at all, I was worried sick about her.
Tuesday I stayed at home and went to my mom’s for dinner. I decided to sleep over there to finish a project for school, which was for the best, because someone broke into my dad’s house through the laundry yard, and I always stay up until very late in the computer room, which’s only access is from the back yard, meters away from the laundry yard. Anyway, the maid saw the guy, set off the alarm and called the cops and her boyfriend, who also happens to be a cop. There were like 10 cops inside the house searching for the thief but they didn’t find him. Of course, while they searched they left everything open, so when they left and my brother and the maid went to sleep (with the alarm and everything locked) they were terrified to hearing the alarm going off and finding the kitchen door wide open. The thief was still inside the house after the cops left. But he only took a few bottles from the bar. My guess is he was scared to death with all the cops that arrived to my house in less than 3 minutes. It’s the second time someone tries to break into my house, and curiously enough, both times my dad has been out of the country. Hmm...
So Wednesday was P day. Paranoia. I think I’m too confident and I feel overly safe in every scenario, because my siblings and my mom were hysterical. I had to sleep downstairs with the door locked and with a golf club by the bed so they were calmed. Everyone (myself included) thought I’d have a hard time going to sleep. As soon as I put my head on the pillow I was snoring, so I guess everyone was wrong.
Thursday was important for our film group ‘cause it was the screening of the offline version of our short movie. The offline is a rehearsal of the movie, you use the same locations and make everything as close to the movie as possible, only you shoot in a different format. This time it was digital and not film. We were all so nervous because our story is a comedy and we’d seen it so many times, shooting it, editing it, revising it, that we thought it wasn’t funny anymore. The worst is that ours screened after a really good film by another group. At this point I was biting my wrist.
Take a wild guess: everyone loved it. At first they laughed because we were the actors, but then they laughed at the situations and the story itself. We got FOUR rounds of applause: during and for the credits of the movie, while we were going down the stairs to face the commission for the mea culpa, and while we took our seats again. The commission didn’t say much about it other than agreeing with what we’d said we’d done wrong and the head of the department complimented us for choosing a genre and sticking to it. Yay us.
After that Lili and I went back to my house and ordered two large pizzas. She got rehired, which was more great news for that day. So we ate a pizza, vegged out on the couch because we couldn’t move, and laughed a lot.
Friday night my sister celebrated her birthday at my mom’s, so we stayed up until 5:00 AM. Her actual birthday is today, she turned 19, and it’s also my cousin’s wedding, for which I have to go get ready now ‘cause it’s 4:44 PM and I’m still in my PJ’s.
Peace out. And remember: Nobody puts baby on a corner.
Tuesday, May 09, 2006
Saturday, March 25, 2006
A couple of cool pics.
Mick Jagger: Eat your heart out.
My sister thinks this is a "Classic Hollywood" look. I think she should cut down on the booze. Then again, she's married. She has three boys. She needs the booze.
This is a really cool bitch. You know when you've found yours. Love her bunches.
Sunday, March 19, 2006
Why, oh why, am I in such a bad mood? Because I hate my major, and I have to put up with 2 and a half years of more crap. 5 semesters of misery, only one semester giving me the chance to work on film. The rest are just crap. Crap, crap, crap. My plan was to freeze my studies here, pack my bags and go to Texas to live with my sister and study in the radio-film-TV in the University of Texas. Unfortunately I have to finish what I started, and by doing that I'm literally wasting 2 and a half years of my life.
I know, learning is never a waste, but it is when you’re not learning, at least not learning what you want. I have a deep respect for scientists but I don’t give a shit about learning science. Yeah, that pretty much sums it up.
I hate myself for not being independent and being unable to just go there and finally be happy. I’ve been feeling like this for almost 2 years now. Two years of misery with no way to reverse it are no good for a maniac depressive. And I tried logotherapy and turning this into a positive experience but it didn’t work out ‘cause I’m still here, in my mediocre world, being a mediocre student, living a mediocre life and feeling mediocre happiness. I’m sick and tired of denial. It just slaps me on the face every time I think I have it together.
On good news, a screenwriter agency is interested in representing me, they sent me a contract and all. All I need now is for someone is the business to do a critique of my screenplay, send the contract and they’ll start the selling process. I haven’t found anyone to help me yet, but I’ve already asked for an extension in the contract submission deadline, so I have some time.
Know anyone in the biz? Then help me out, please. If they manage to sell my script I’m out of here. No questions asked. I’ll sweep floors if I have to and I’ll sing “matchmaker, matchmaker make me a match” while I’m at it.
I’m turning 21 on Tuesday and I’m having a party on Friday. I hope all my friends show up. I need some serious lovin’, folks.
Meanwhile I’m dedicating all of my writing time to my period piece. It takes place in the late 1920’s, before the crash, and DAMN IT it’s fun!!! Love it.
I sort of found my female soulmate. We’re the same in so many ways, I feel like we’re versions of ourselves in different ages. Sometimes when I read her e-mails I picture myself being like her in a few years and at the same time I recognize some attitudes I had when I was younger, but mostly I recognize my present self in her words. Maybe she feels the same about me, I don’t know. Having cyber friends is weird. Having cyber soulmates is even more bizarre, like reading yourself through the screen. If I love her, does that mean I love myself? That would be pretty cool right now.
I have a thing for Garden State. The more I watch it the more pretentious I find it. I don’t know, it has so many loose ends and I’m so keen on finding the errors and flaws that it’s lost most of its appeal, that appeal you see on films when you watch them for the first time and you’re fascinated by them. This is the first time this happens to me with a film. It’s weird. Still, it’s a good movie but I don’t consider it “The Graduate” or “Fight Club” of our generation. It would’ve been if Braff had kept it simple and not tried to find quirkiness in every scene, line and sound. But the best thing about this film is that I didn’t have to buy the soundtrack ‘cause I already had the CDs of the artists featured in it. Yay for me. maybe I’m pissed because he already used The Shins in his soundtrack when it was my plan all along to introduce them to the world and take all the credit for it along with some t-shirts and guitar picks.
I need to cut down on the cigarettes, diet coke and sleepless nights. I need to save some money, kick ass in school and stop being such a spoiled brat.
Monday, March 06, 2006
I woke up at 4:00 AM. Quick trip to the airport. It was crazier than I thought. Morten Harket , the lead singer, had to come out from a different door but the press saw us (booking agent, 3 security guards, a producer and me, all of us with credentials) walking to the door and followed us. We had to wait, meanwhile the reporters and the fans are getting ready for some action. The doors hesitantly open, then close, then open, then close. A beat. The doors finally open and TADAAA: Morten himself. And he's one fine piece of 40-something ass! I was like: "YUMMYYYYYY!!!!" right before the guards, people from the TV station and myself formed a circle around him and tried to get out.
The reporters POUNCED on us, TV cameras, microphones, recorders, graphic cameras, cell phones, push and pull, all the while we're trying to get Morten out of the airport and into the van. The cables on the cameras got tangled and Morten kinda freaked out for a second, but played it out well. We FINALLY got him into the van and on his way to Viña del Mar while I stayed behind to get the musicians, the manager and the crew.
Now THAT was fucked up! We had to make 3 stops to 3 different hotels, all the while the luggage is on a truck that's 40 minutes behind, we get to the 2nd hotel and one of the technicians, Sven, wants to leave his handbag in his room to then get in the van again and go to the other hotel. Meanwhile the crew is waiting outside and no one is explaining them what's going on, they only speak Dutch and English, there's movement everywhere, Sven is taking forever to get back from his room. We finally get going to the third and final hotel with another producer set up to help me (he's nice and cute but speaks NO English). And the van has to make lots of turns because of the traffic and one of the guys of the crew asks me: "Is he lost?" I answered no, of course, because we weren't.
We get to the hotel, they check in, but one of the rooms won't be ready in an hour. This guy has no room and we can't give him a temporary room either because maintenance happens to be taking place at that exact moment, so no rooms are available, the others are asking for their luggage, Sven asks me to try to get him a room in this hotel and not in the Sheraton, the restaurant that was supposed to invite all 20 members of the A-Ha team for a free dinner said "no", everyone FINALLY gets their luggage except the guy with no room 'cause his bags are int he Sheraton and not in San Martín, his real, room-less hotel.
I finally get out of there with some other guys who were kind enough to give me a hand and I learn that one of the bands (Journey) cancelled their performance and the other band member of A-Ha who was supposed to be on his way to Viña missed his flight. We drive past a restaurant and Sven waves at us like crazy. We make a U turn about 4 blocks later, and Sven wants a ride to the Sheraton, while we're going to the Gala hotel. So we give him a ride to the Sheraton, all smiles and shit, we get to the Gala, I have my first piece of food in all day and I get a call from the booking agent. She needed me to confirm a van that would take her to Santiago again. Then I call her again 'cause I forgot to tell her every single restaurant passed on the free invitation. Her words were, and I quote: "Uh-oh..."
We meet after lunch and she tells me about every single thing I did wrong. I felt like crying. But she was right, I should've explained to the crew why it took us so long to get them to their hotel, made sure the luggage was properly dropped, blah, blah, blah. Now the booking agent is on her way to Santiago to get the second artist from A-Ha and his family. I'll have to go to Santiago tomorrow to get the third and last member.
Tonight is the festival's opening night (from Wednesday to Monday) and I probably won't be able to go because I have to stay available in case Sven or the manager needs me. You'll appreciate this: her name is Kleopatra. But she's blonde. Weird... Anyway, the booking agent, Rebecca, asked one of the hotel producers to get me some help with the musicians and crew while she takes care of the band. Still, I'll get to ride with Paul, the last band member, all by myself from Santiago to Viña. That is, if he wants to talk.
Opening night. It was SOOOOO good!!! Juan Luis Guerra opened, and he's one of my favorite artists. He plays merengue, so I danced until my ass fell (even more). I got to be next to him. He's the nicest, most quiet guy I've ever seen. The closing act was Miranda!, an Argentinean band that's really big here. Their style, as they define it, is "melodramatic electro-pop". Whatever, they rocked the house and I lost my voice while singing to them.
I went to the airport to pick up Pal Savoy, guitar player of A-Ha. Since he's not the front man and the journalists thought he arrived the day before there was no press to greet us. We get him to the hotel and Rebecca, the booking agent, calls me to tell me part of A-Ha's crew wants to go to the venue to check out the stage and the equipment. So I take them and when we're there Sven, the sound engineer I mentioned on my previous e-mail, calls me from his hotel to tell me he also wants to check out the place. I sent a van to pick him up and they all took a look around.
The sound table is behind the stage so there's no way the artist can look at the sound person and give them indications. It might sound minor, but it's a huge deal. That doesn't exist in any other part of the world, and Morten really needs to see Becky (the band's VERY British sound person) to give her indications. We struggled to find a solution and I came up with putting a camera in front of Morten to capture his every move and getting a TV on the sound cabin. Even if they didn't like it, they used it.
Then came the press conference. We had to get A-Ha (which is Morten, Magne and Pal) through the back door of the hotel and get them to the press room. They did the press conference, then we went two stories up to do a brief appearance in a TV show, then did 4 interviews and one interview for the radio. All the while there's a camera following us, and since I was by Morten's side all the time I was on TV during the evening news for a really long time. I didn't get to see it, though.
Afterwards we went to Kleo and Morten's hotel to hang out. I got to talk to them and we had a cup of coffee. They're really nice people, Morten is a bit of a Diva with the press, but when he's away from the cameras he's a really nice and down to earth guy. Everyone was going on and on about how great he looked, and when I asked him about it, he said, "I think when you're at peace with yourself it shows on your outside."
That same night the Swedes (A-Ha's musicians, all Swedish, very nice guys) and Kleo (manager) asked me to take them to the venue to see that night's show. Very well. I took them and got them in the lighting and second sound check cabin, facing the stage. Then a guy comes and tells me we can't stay there, so a lady offered me a private box fully equipped with food and drinks. I put them there and they really enjoyed themselves.
Then Kleo said something very reassuring to me that made me feel like for the first time I was doing my job right. She said: "I'm so glad you're working with us, I love how straightforward you are and how you get things done right away. It's very German." I felt like hugging her. "Good", I thought. I've always considered myself messy and a bit of a slacker, but apparently I work well under pressure.
Then Rebecca tells me Perr, A-Ha's light guy, wants to come later to learn how to use our light system. When the musicians and Cleo were ready to go, I put them in a van, send them to the hotel, and wait for Perr, who arrived at 2:45 in the morning. We had to wait till the show ended for him to use the lights. Long story short, I went to bed at 5:30, finally fell asleep at 6:00 and woke up at 7:00. I didn't even bother to change into my pj's, I just collapsed on the bed.
Big day. I had to take the crew to get the back line ready, which meant getting up at 7:00, pick them up at 8:30 and be on time for the back line at 9:00. They finished everything by 11:00, then came the mic check. Except mic check meant just plugging the mics, not sound check, and they already had that ready. Which of course meant getting them an extra hour of sound check (each band gets 2 hours): 1 hour to check mics and instruments, 1 hour for Morten, 1 hour for the entire band. It's impossible to get an extra hour, but we managed to get it. Okay, that was done.
I had a couple of hours to myself that I thought I could use to take a well-deserved nap, only I had to take care of a few things. Then my dad calls and tells me he's going to Santiago. I really wanted to see him, so I quickly dismissed the nap. There were a few misunderstandings concerning where we would meet but I finally got to him. He took one long look at me and said: "You need to sleep."
Sound check. Everything is going fine but problems quickly pile up. We're behind schedule, this isn't working, this is wrong, this isn't good enough, blah, blah, blah. I had only slept 3 and a half hours in 3 days and I was so tired I could cry. And I did a little at the venue. Then I got to my hotel and one of the other producers walks up to me and tells me I don't have to be afraid of asking for help, that we're all a team, that there will always be someone to give us an extra hand, that I shouldn't over-stress myself. She's telling me this and I answer her and tears roll down my cheeks. We hugged and I tell her between tears and giggles: "I really needed a hug."
I'm going up to my room thinking, "okay, we still have 2 hours before I have to get everyone to the show, I should sleep," but I was so worked up and stressed; sleeping wasn't a possibility. So instead I stayed in my room with Soledad, "Sole", a girl doing the same job as I, and we talked and smoked a couple of cigarettes.
It's time and I go pick up the musicians and crew (2 hotels). I put them in their dressing rooms when I get the word that A-Ha is near. I go to the basement to receive them and take them to the dressing room. Soon enough it's showtime. I take them up to the stage and they ROCK THE FREAKING HOUSE!!!!!!!!!!!!! More so, after they played people started to leave. They weren't interested in any other acts or bands, they just wanted to see A-Ha. The ones that did stay booed everyone else off the stage until the closing act, Chancho En Piedra (Chilean band). They played and gave the audience what they'd been waiting all night to hear.
After the show part of the crew, the Swedes, Pal, Rebecca and I went off to have a well-deserved dinner. During dinner we started organizing the hotel check-out and the vans that would take the band and crew to the airport, but Rebecca said: "You've done an excellent job. You will sleep late tomorrow." You cannot imagine how helpful feedback is for someone doing my job. I thought Rebecca was unpleased with me and my work, but it was the other way around. I was the only one she could count on for sure.
I woke up at 3:00 with a very soar throat. I hat to take Morten to the airport, so I call Rebecca and tell her I'm not sure I can do it because I don't want him to catch anything with me coughing and blowing my nose on the backseat. She tells me to get to the hotel quickly so we can discuss it, because the ride to the airport is already late.
I meet Rebecca and Kleo there and I tell them what's going on. Kleo thinks the best person to discuss this with is Morten, so we go see him and Jan (his Reiki teacher), who are having lunch in the hotel's restaurant. I tell Morten what's wrong with me and he says, "Let Jan see if it's too bad. I appreciate your concern." Jan takes one look at me, says something to Morten in dutch or whatever language they speak in Norway and Morten says: "He says it's not bad and that he'll treat you on our way to the airport." WTF??
Turn out Morten didn't want to leave until someone (me) took him to the airport. I only realized this later.
So we're on the car on our way to the airport, fans tap the car window, Jan gives some pills to Morten, who then gives them to me and says "take 6 of this every day, 2 on every meal, and get some fluids in you." Whatever, I took them and during the ride to the airport while I talk on the cell phone and between my conversations with Morten, Jan barely speaks.
We get to the airport and Morten wants to downgrade his ticket from first class to business so he can fly next to Jan (those 2 are always together). We get it done but there's a problem: he wants a ticket for the value of the money he saved from changing his ticket so he can use it in the future as payment for another ticket. The thing is the airline doesn't do that, but they did it when Morten flew from Frankfurt to Santiago, so they should do it again.
We spend about 40 minutes trying to fix this until they give us something resembling that document. Jan asks me if I'm feeling better and I realize that I do, my throat doesn't feel that soar. The guy healed me!!!!! So we get them to the VIP customs and we say good-bye. I hugged Jan and for the first time I saw him smiling. Then I hugged Morten (what a nice piece of man, he is...) and he wished me the best. I was the envy of every girl in the airport.
I'm literally walking to the door when I see Rebecca walk in with Pal. She asks me to stay around to help them. Okay. Another problem: since Pal changed his ticket from Sunday to Saturday, the travel agency forgot to validate the new ticket and the airline doesn't have the authority to do it. Pal has to wait and we can't get him into the VIP lounge until his ticket is valid. Rebecca and I go to the travel agency's stand in the airport. Nobody's there. We call Javiera, the TV station's producer in charge of every flight, who's in Viña del Mar, and she tries to get in touch with the woman from the travel agency. Pal is still waiting. Javiera finally reaches the travel agent and I have to run to the other end of the airport (literally: I was on the corner of first level and had to run to the third level on the other end) with the phone on my ear to get to the lady doing the VIP check in.
Problem solved. After 1 hour Pal checks in. It's 7:50 and I have to get to Viña and be on Kleo's hotel at 9:15 to take her, the Swedes, Becky and another guy from the crew to the venue 'cause they want to see Kansas play on the show. We were running a little late, but that didn't keep me from making a stop in the highway's McDonald's for a bite. It was my first and only meal of the day.
We finally get to Viña, I'm 15 minutes late and Kleo is nowhere in sight. I looked all around the lobby for her, I called to her room. No answer. I waited a little more but I had to leave to the venue and see if they needed me, so I left Kleo a note with one of the guards telling her I was late and my phone number. I left and I was three blocks away from the venue when I get a call. It's Kleo. The guys were having dinner. I picked them up. We're walking into the venue and Kleo once again tells me how happy she is with me working with them. "If it was anybody else I'd be so nervous, but I trust you and I know you'll get things done." Relief! I asked her for a couple of A-Ha's new CDs and she said no problem, that she would give them to me the next day.
There were no private boxes available, but the same lady that gave me the box the first time I took them there let me have another one that was being used by some of the people that worked at the venue. I melted with "thank yous". Then the crew guy opens the refrigerator and immediately says: "We're gonna need more beer." Whatever...
Rebecca gets in the box and notices the crew guy and Becky are a little drunk and they're not being very nice to me. Before things got too tense we put them in a van and sent them back to the hotel. Rebecca stayed in the venue with me and said I didn't have to take shit from a crew guy and that I did more than I was supposed to do. Once again she said I'd done an amazing job, and that I really stood out from the rest of the production crew.
I got up late again but not as late as the previous day. That day I started working with Daddy Yankee. First I had to get Kleo the ticket with Morten's downgrade money. Problem: the TV station paid for every ticket, and what they offered was a first class ticket, NOT the worth of the ticket. Meaning: if the ticket costs 100 bucks you get the ticket, not the 100 bucks. So I was the messenger. I met Kleo in her hotel, she was kinda in a rush, so I explained the situation really quickly to her. She wasn't pleased. She said "I'll talk to Rebecca." This people wanted to get the money and they couldn't. I said good-bye to Kleo and she gave me a quick, cold hug accompanied by a "thanks for all your help." That was it. No CDs, no smiles, nothing. When money gets in the way you see people's true colors. Maybe Kleo had a point, but she didn't have to take it out on me. Hate the message, not the messenger!
I was taking Daddy Yankee's people to the venue for their sound check when I get a call. I have to take the remaining crew from A-Ha to the airport. I said no fucking way. I told my producer, he learned they had been a little mean to me, and I asked him if it was really necessary for me to take them to Santiago. He said: "no fucking way."
I'm at the sound check, everything is going great, when I get a call from Kleo. She tells me the van went to the two other hotels and was already on her way to Santiago and it didn't pick her up. The driver was already turning to get her, but she just wanted me to know. I call the driver, ask him about the situation and he confirms: he's driving back to get her. A couple of hours later I get a call from the airport coordinator and she tells me everyone has checked in. I hung up, I raised my arms to the air, I threw my head back and screamed: "A-HA IS GONE!!" I got a round of applause.
Anyway, that was my experience with A-Ha.
IT'S SO GOOD TO BE HOME!
Wednesday, February 15, 2006
Friday, February 03, 2006
Miss F has been in everyone’s life at least once (if you’re blessed or too stupid too be aware of your surroundings) but I dare say joins us every single day in one way or another and in all shapes and forms. Like that wrap you can’t open, or the eternal red light keeping you from getting home, or that person on the phone talking about completely trivial stuff while you need to make a life or death call.
Yes, frustration is definitely a bitch.
It loves to haunt you when you’re alone with your thoughts. Like right now in this, the dullest summer of my life. My ex boyfriend (now good friend. No perks) always complained about how I think things over too much. He still considers me an over-thinker (a pathological condition born out of sheer curiosity for EVERYTHING), so do my friends. They believe I spend too much time in my little world. I can be loud and funny and quite the little entertainer but I’ve always enjoyed those quiet moments during which I wear my ‘deep thoughts’ mask and I look away as if some invisible company was performing ‘La Traviata’ for my eyes only, and when the Diva starts the aria my expression morphs into utter realization. A big event, but only in my little world.
This summer I’ve been harvesting frustration for the masses. It always goes back to the ‘I’m tired of my chosen college education, I’m tired of this country, I wanna go to New York and really apply myself’ mantra. True, I chose my education (Audiovisual Communication); true, life is not always what you expected it to be; true, expectations CAN be unfulfilled, and life tends to disappoint us in one way or the other. But it’s come to a point where the only thought of going to class in unbearable.
I’ve always loved to learn, and college was always an anticipated period during my life, but I feel like I’m not really learning. People always say that in college ‘they teach you how to think.’ For about 8 months now I’ve been getting the very latent feeling that each day I become more and more stupid. I feel like I haven’t learned a thing, and if I have it’s nothing that I couldn’t have learned by myself. It’s not that my institute is bad, it’s the major. It’s too basic, which can be good or, in my case, can be very bad. And frustrating. Very frustrating.
Audiovisual communication is like this: they teach you a little bit of everything. Filmmaking, advertising, TV, and anything in that area. But they don’t really give you the chance to major in ONE thing, you just get the tid-bits and the occasional – and very limited – workshop. I think my problem is there’s no workshop for screenwriting. We have a screenwriting class, but it’s obligatory to everyone so it’s pretty basic and you can’t really make much progress because not everyone is really interested in that area, hence, they stay behind or put a bad face/make a fuss during class.
I’d just like the chance to see if I’m talented, if I have a shot at writing, just to know if I’m wasting my time or I’m on the right track. If it’s the first I’d start focusing on other interests, and I have so many. I would’ve loved to study philosophy or psychology or history or strictly filmmaking, which I would define as audiovisual psychology, leaving out, of course, bomb movies where the cast includes a middle-aged sweaty action hero with a limited vocabulary, his bimbo girlfriend and the wise janitor/cleaning person/unexpected-prophet-who-always-has-the-right-thing-to-say guy.
Maybe I’m not a talented writer. Maybe my ego’s been puffed-up for too long by people who really love me and care about me. Maybe I’m not as smart as people and some certified tests say I am and that twinkle of wise-beyond-my-years in my eyes is just dust. What I do know is that I enjoy the road to self-knowledge further more than the concept itself. And it’s been a pretty wild ride, almost 21 years of breakthroughs, moments, realizations, one or two epiphanies, premature growth, delayed reaction, and still a lot to learn. As it rises in one of the scenes in my script:
the age where it’s... socially
accepted to have an existential
crisis. But it’s stupid to think I
can have everything figured out on
you, the day I realize I have it
all figured out I’m gonna be
Yep, that’s a scene from the infamous script. Knowing how the world works I’ll probably hear it in some other movie with a completely different plot. Collective consciousness. We’re all thinking the same things.
What I don’t enjoy, and I’m sure you’ll all agree with me, is this imminent and unbreakable feeling of frustration that can only evaporate with a good smack on the face. I honestly believe Miss F can make us better people, because it obliges us to step out of our little world if we need a break from it. And when you step into the real world you realize there are far more important things than your ridiculous little script, than your mediocre major, than your country with a limited film industry, than your web log, than the ghosts from the past, than your own life.
It’s a whole world out there. And we’re all falling into Miss F’s web.
Here’s a song from the soundtrack I selected. Very ad-hoc for my mood.
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Wednesday, February 01, 2006
It doesn’t cease to surprise me how much Pedro (6) and Diego (4) love their new cousin. They’re kissing him and playing with him and crawling all around the house all day long. They fight for his attention and are very sweet to him, while their mother (already mother of three boys) gives me a dreadful look as she says ‘they’re DYING to get another sibling…’ I just laugh and enjoy them.
The 2 year old is slightly jealous with the new baby taking all of the attention, so I multiply myself and give my time to all four boys. I’ve become quite an expert in putting the youngest one to sleep, while with the others I’m the cool aunt who gives them leg rides and plays airplane with them. My sisters and my mother are very surprised with my dedication and playfulness and are already offering baby sitter jobs to me. I must say, I truly admire them. Having kids is EXHAUSTING. My mom had seven. She’s my new role model.
I don’t get to see my nephews very often, which is a shame. The best part of having nephews is that it’s free love. You can love them like they were your own kids but you don’t have to raise them or change diapers. It’s heaven. Apart from the distance problem, when I did get to see them I sort of distanced myself from them, not deliberately, but because I have 6 other siblings to play with them and it suddenly felt too crowded. Now that most of my siblings are away for vacation and I’m stuck in Santiago I’m the designated kid entertainer. And I love it.
It’s remarkable how kids can transmit their energy to you. I was playing ball with them yesterday and I soon found myself laughing and having as much, and probably more, fun than the kids. And you can’t help but to feel special when they come up to you with a book and say, “will you read this to me? I like how you make the different voices.” Awww and double awwww.
It’s in moments like that or when they struggle to get your name out right that I remember how much I like and enjoy the company of kids. Specially if they’re my nephews and they think I’m cool.
Three of them are leaving later today and I’m proud to say I made the most of their time here. The other one goes back to Texas next week. I’m glad I decided to spend his time here in Chile at my mom’s house, where he and my sister are staying, because it gave me more opportunities to be with him. He can speak no more than three clear words and the other day he called me, “Pía”, which is the closest thing to Sofía. I felt like crying. I’m happy.
Thursday, January 26, 2006
Sunday, January 22, 2006
I’m feeling rather communicative today so I’m gonna write about lots of things.
PIVOT’S 10 QUESTIONS
French Journalist Bernard Pivot came up with 10 questions to know people better, and they’ve become quite the sensation in James Lipton’s Live from the Actor’s Studio (one of my favorite shows.) It’s always interesting to hear what people have to say about these 10 little questions, I always try them on my family and friends, and here are my answers:
01. What is your favorite word?
You can’t ask that to someone who thinks of herself as a writer! I’ve been having a love affair with words ever since I met them, and I like them too much to pick just one. So here go a few in different languages: Farfalla (Italian for butterfly), Aista (Afghan for pretty), exacerbar (Spanish for exacerbate, which is a pretty exacerbated word all by itself) and belly-button.
02. What is your least favorite word?
Pretentious. Because it’s so pretentious…
03. What turns you on creatively, spiritually or emotionally?
Someone who can challenge me. And a nice Adam’s apple never hurts…
04. What turns you off?
05. What is your favorite curse word?
Ándate a la conchetumadre. It means “goes to your mother’s pussy.”
06. What sound or noise do you love?
Blowing air into my nephew’s stomach. The sound of the air and his laughter is just…
07. What sound or noise do you hate?
The THX logo. I feel like snakes are gonna crawl out of the speakers and into my brain.
08. What profession other than your own would you like to attempt?
Philosopher, historian, psychologist, anthropologist.
09. What profession would you not like to do?
Anything related to math, numbers and micro organisms.
10. If Heaven exists, what would you like to hear God say when you arrive at the Pearly Gates?
“Sofía, meet James Dean.”
This last question always leaves me thinking about Heaven. Does it exist or is it just something we made up out of self gratification, I don’t know. What I do know is that many people are obsessed with it, and sometimes they do selfless things to earn their ticket to Heaven, which ends up being a selfish act.
I think the ultimate act of love is being selfless just because.
I’ve lived surrounded by Catholics all my life, and my father’s obsession with Heaven never ceases to stun me. I admire him for his faith, but sometimes he goes over the top. Well, that’s him and those are his beliefs. That’s his thing. My thing is being as good as I can be for myself and others. That’s the only way to live right. I think…
People have so much good in them but also so much evil. Is it love that makes us human or evil? Is it both? Which is the quintessential human trade?
I was surfing the net the other day and ended up in Reuter’s 40 Pictures of 2005. A couple of them left me wondering about good, evil, what’s right and what’s wrong. Here they are:
The Iraqi man with the blindfold is suspected of having explosives with his car and he’s being held back by some US Troops. What stunned me was the reflection of the soldier laughing to the sky on the car window.
This little Iraqi girl was shot to death by American troops who opened fire at a crowded minibus in north Baghdad, killing 5 members of the same family, including two children, and wounding four others. This happened on December 8.
The exact same day President George W. Bush is cruising in Russian President Vladimir Putin’s 1956 Volga, the guy helping him. It’s good to know one of the top priorities of the leader of the so-called ‘Free World’ is learning how to keep the car steady. You should try doing that with your country, Georgie Boy.
The little guy trying to push the bulldozer is a ultra Orthodox Jew protesting against the construction of a new Israeli highway that has to desecrate several graves in order to exist. At what point did progress become more important than culture and tradition?
Mr. Toes down here is an Iranian serial child killer. He killed 17 children, most of them young boys he raped first, and three adults. Is death enough punishment?
The little girl covering her ears is the smartest child in the world because she’s the only one who has the guts to do that while Tony Blair gives a speech. I love the British, but Blair became Bush’s little prison bitch and by doing so offended the very strong country he represents.
I’m so political today…
All my life I’ve questioned the existence of God, and I’ve come to the conclusion that I believe in Him. I have a need… a need for God. I’ve detached myself from the church, and I don’t really consider myself Catholic. I think I’m a Christian. To me, the difference lies on believing in Christ’s teachings rather than on the church’s. Jesus wanted us to love each other.
Most people don’t believe in God because they can’t understand how he can allow such horrible things to happen here on Earth. Here’s my version:
God said, ‘this is good, this is evil, and this is the world. Do whatever you want.’ Free will was also one of His gifts, and after thousands of years I think we haven’t learned a thing. I can’t help to picture God sitting on a cozy cloud eating popcorn and watching us on a big TV laughing to Himself as He thinks, ‘They’re so stupid…’
I went through my ‘I don’t believe in God’ phase, but I talked to my sister, a philosophy major, and she told me God gave us our soul. For a minute I felt soulless. I think human beings can have a self-made spirit, but a soul is not something we could muster without divine help. So yes, my spirit belongs to me and I created it throughout my life, but my soul was given by someone greater, someone perfect.
But what is perfect? Yes, love would fit in there, but aren’t our imperfections what paradoxically make us perfect as well? Is good + evil = perfect? Or is perfection something we think unachievable because we’ll never bring ourselves to be selfless?
If that is the case, then God has to be the guy.
I sang my nephew to sleep about 30 minutes ago. I haven’t been so happy in weeks.
The song for this post is on top. Death Cab For Cutie - Movie Script Ending (from ‘The Photo Album’) Is it me or it sounds an awful lot like the guy from The Postal Service? Maybe it is and I got the name of the song wrong. You be the judge.
Saturday, January 21, 2006
It’s amazing how things change as time goes by. My script started being about the importance of family and tolerance to those who are different from us, and how we can learn from each other. With time it’s become a story about family, about our openness to learn from others and become better people, about fear of abandonment, about how truth makes us feel at home, about our eagerness to have everything figured out at once, about how in the end we all want to impress (or piss off) our parents just to get their attention about finally taking that step that used to make us piss our pants at the only thought of taking it.
The funny thing is that the less the script was about the longer it was. Now that it has more subjects it’s considerably shorter and more to the point. And the soundtrack kicks fucking ass. If this thing ever gets made I’m gonna sell my soul just so they put the songs I selected.
In the end writing is like natural selection. We evolve into the details that will make our work better in its environment. All the extra stuff just falls off, like the little toe will in a few generations from now. And we’ll always find more and more that will make our little creature (your work as a writer, you gutter head perverts) more and more fit in its reality so it can survive storms and bad reviews from self-involved critics.
I actually have a deep respect for critics, especially when they know what they’re talking about, but all those “opiniologers” (people who have an opinion about everything and everyone and don’t seem to notice the fact that they’re wearing alligator shoes with pink velvet pants) just piss me off. They say the most horrible, most unnecessary, completely trivial things just to buy some camera time. TV camera, not film. Is it really necessary to disrespect someone or something just so we can see your God-awful hairdo/gelhead on the small screen? To this people, you know who you are: GET A JOB!
Yesterday I spent the entire day in Viña del Mar on a “Technical Visit” through the hotels and coliseum that will be holding all sorts of singers and performers for the 2006 Viña Del Mar Festival. We have some big names coming that are yet to be confirmed, but word is they’ll be pretty good! They also interviewed me along with two other assistant producers to see if we could speak English. This will be of great help during the press conferences to serve as an interpreter and to see which artists they’re assigning us.
Besides that, I relished in the visit. People from abroad usually think of Chile as a third world country with people hunting in leather thongs and chanting to mystic spiritual forces for some rain. But the truth is we’re pretty civilized, and most artists are shocked to see the display of the Viña Del Mar Festival. We have the best sound IN THE WORLD, the lighting comes from Mexico, we have the best equipments and the show is broadcasted to the world. We’re right after “Rock in Rio” when it comes to importance of a Latin American music festival.
They took us to the backstage through all this secret hallways and passages, saying things like “if the artist is too important and popular we get him through the second tunnel that leads to the dressing rooms, this is the platform that gets the artists into the stage, it comes from the side, and this one comes from under the stage, and this is where the judges will be, this is the VIP room, this is a secret tunnel that leads to the third dimension” and stuff like that. It was so much fun, especially when they told us we were the only ones that could have access to all the facilities and hotels.
I’ve got the power.
Being an “attach” is a huge responsibility. You have to make sure your artist gets to sound check and rehearsal on time, that they have everything they need, that they get to the hotel safe, you have to be in the van with them, take them to the press conference, in some cases pick them up in the airport, make sure they have anything they need in their dressing rooms, which sometimes includes a blue dog with thorns coming out of his tail and more and more things that make my head spin just thinking about them. You have to be like a leach and you're gonna be yelled that for anything. And I love it.
I leave the 18th and come back the 28th.
Sunday, January 01, 2006
Hello to anyone on the other side of the screen. I know you’re reading this. I know I’m writing this. Telepathy is a freaky thing.
It’s been a while since my last post on this blog, I pay more attention to the Spanish version, but still, that’s no excuse to neglect my little English baby.
I don’t really know what to say, so I’ll do what I do best: ramble!!!
I’ll start with saying I had the lamest New Year ever. I’ve never been a big fan of New Year. I mean, it’s okay, but, is it really necessary to give it so much credit? It’s just midnight, every night has midnight… Sure, Janueray 1st, another year starts, hurray. I think New Year had more meaning in the past. In ancient cultures it had a deeper, more spiritual meaning. Today it’s yet another excuse to get drunk.
I don’t believe in New Year resolutions because every day you live your resolutions, not for the New Year, but for your life. I think we’ve become so freakin’ lazy we have to set a date to make up our minds about something. “Hey, tomorrow is the New Year, got to think of some goals!”
Maybe it’s not like that, not literally, but people seem to really make up their minds about something they’ll never really achieve just to feel like they’re doing something for themselves. And then they get drunk. To hell with the resolutions, gimme some champagne.
I’m turning 21 on March, which isn’t that big of a deal since in Chile we can drink as soon as we turn 18 (eat your heart out). I have no great plans for this year, except to continue college and keep doing what makes me happier: writing scripts. It’s amazing how much experience time can give you. I started a script about 18 months ago and it’s in a totally different place since the first draft. I rewrote the entire thing about a month ago and I took it from there. It turned out to be a pretty sweet, mind-blowing, belly-laugh screenplay, if I do say so myself.
The big change is that I decided to make every character a character and not someone to fill up the scenes. I actually enjoy writing for the supporting, smaller parts. It’s really challenging to create 8 different voices for people who are involved somehow but still have to keep their uniqueness and individuality. God, I love writing…
It gives me a sense of freedom only compared to skydiving or free falling. It also gives you power, a very attractive, very addicting and compelling sense of power to create your own rules, your own characters, your own world, your own society. I think all of you out there who have a blog or a media to expose your writing or your work knows what I’m talking about.
Like right now I could say “Tom Cruise is a cuckoo” and nobody can touch me, maybe most of you agree with me. That guy is losing it… His laugh is really getting on my nerves. But he sure knows what he’s doing. If I didn’t know better I’d say he has an evil plan to take over the world and build a Scientologist airport with John Travolta.
Maybe they already have one…
If I was to take over the world I’d make everyone wear sneakers and listen to good music. Enough of Britney, let’s have some indie rock. Or some Rolling Stones. Or some Björk. Isn’t she the coolest? Who else could wear a goose to an award show? Which reminds me of Ellen Degeneres’ parody at the Oscars.
Ellen Degeneres is the most promising, most brilliant and most talented female comic in the US. Hell, she’s the best comic of all. Just the way she talks and how she appears to feel out of place everywhere she goes, and how she carries herself… She’s the woman. If I ever become a well-known actress/writer/director I wanna be in her talk show.
Anyway, elections are coming up. They wanna elect an Elton John look-alike to be the first female president in the history of my country. Personally, I think she’s nice and funny and approachable and has the best laugh I’ve heard in a long time. But so do I, and I’m not running for president. Michelle Bachelet is a socialist who deserves all my respect, but she’s not cut to be president. At least not yet, because she had other jobs in public departments (health, defense) and she didn’t deliver. But she’s just too damn charismatic to ignore…
Lately she’s been acting kind of funny. And by funny I mean insulting. Since the other guy in the race for the big chair is loaded (and I mean a 1.2 billion dollar fortune) she said: “Not all of the money in the world will buy the Chilean people.” Uh… Is it me or did she just say that the people can be bought? Did she just compromise the integrity of our country?
Whatever, Michelle… Just go back to being the nice, giggling, soft-hearted lady we all loved to watch struggle with the seat of the convertible in the Army Parade.
Happy New Year.
Song of the week: Flake Music – Spanway hits (you can hear it in my other blog)