Froggie’s Lilypad

On March 27th, 2004, I saw the movie Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind.  That film prompted me to write the prior post about finding my voice.

A few months ago, I also posted about my struggle with the 70-page Stretch. Go ahead… take some time to read them both.

What isn’t mentioned in those two posts is that the script I began on March 28th, 2004 and the one I began about one year ago are one and the same. The first version was a good start, but my lack of prep and research on the technicalities of screenwriting caught up with me. After a good bit of research and taking the time to plot out all of the elements of the story I wanted to include, I ended up cannibalizing bits and pieces of that first version and fit into the second one I started last year.

What also isn’t mentioned is that every year since 1994, I have wanted to finish a script – any script – in order to enter the Nicholl Fellowship Screenwriting Competition. Every year for the past 14 years when May 1st rolled around, I felt a slight stabbing sensation in my heart as I realized that another year had gone by without completing that goal.

This post isn’t for me to declare that this year I will finally finish a script that I will submit to the Nicholl Fellowship Screenwriting Competition.

This post is to say that the script is done.

I did it.

Coming in at just around 94 pages is the first draft of my screenplay titled “The Soup Storm.” I want to cry right now. I want to dance. I want to celebrate and hoot and holler and scream.

I did it.

I still have work to do. As I said, this is the first draft. I have to proofread, I have to re-order and rewrite a few scenes. I have to polish it up and make it sellable. But that’s just finishing work. The big job is done.

It only took me 15 years to complete this goal, but this year I will be entering the Nicholl Fellowship Screenwriting Competition.

There are a few writer friends that occasionally pop by and read this blog. If you have time, I would LOVE to let you read it and get some feedback from you. Hell, even if you aren’t a writer, I could still use the feedback. This story’s been living in my head since May 12th, 1995, so I’m not exactly objective about it.

I did it.

REPOST FROM MARCH 28th, 2004:

I have read almost everything by Nick Hornby. The man is one of my favorite authors (Kurt Vonnegut being my absolute favorite of all time). The reason I mention him is because in the Thunder Road chapter of SongBook he writes about how he eventually “found his voice” as an author by strongly identifying with another author (Anne Tyler in her book Dinner at the Homesick Restaurant, to be precise). It was like an epiphany moment for him, when he was suddenly able to see himself in what he read.

As he puts it:

“This is me,” I wanted to say when I read Tyler’s rich, sad, lovely novel. “I’m not a character, I’m nothing like the author, I haven’t had the experiences she writes about. But even so, this is what I feel like, inside. This is what I would sound like if I ever were to find a voice.” And I did find a voice, eventually, and it was mine, not hers; but nevertheless, so powerful was the process of identification that I still don’t feel as though I’ve expressed myself as well, as completely, as Tyler did on my behalf then.

I thought I had felt that connection – and I suppose in a way I did – with the authors who have written books that have in some way inspired me (in addition to Hornby and Vonnegut, there are Douglas Coupland, Gabriel Garcia Marquez, Elizabeth Wurtzel and Milan Kundera). I don’t love every single book by every single one of them – and, in all honesty – I haven’t even read every single book by every single one of them. But each one produced at least one work, one novel, or one essay that made me feel like I was reading something that had been born in my own imagination.

However, none of the things by these authors I have mentioned have ever spurred me on to try to identify and develop my own voice. In fact, after re-reading the books that inspired me so much, I find that my writing is often forced – as if I’m trying to mimic the style of the author I have just read. Instead of feeling like I have created something that was my own, I often end up feeling like a phoney… a fraud…. like I have no business trying to produce anything of my own.

Yesterday, though, it happened. And it happened in a way that I had never expected it would happen… it happened at a movie.

I had read the script to Eternal Sunshine of a Spotless Mind before I saw the movie. I liked what I read and knew I would see the movie (because, lets face it – weird, quirky, independent films are just my bag, baby), but I felt that it had a lot of work that needed to be done to it. The story just felt “off” somehow.

It was the movie, though – seeing the actual movie in its final state – that some how turned something on in my imagination. No, I wasn’t any of the characters in that film. No, I can 100% guarantee that I had not experienced anything like what was going on in the story. But the emotion – that was all me. I suddenly knew exactly what Nick Hornby was talking about. Eternal Sunshine was the visual depiction of the crazy, mixed-up world going on inside of me. I understood every single plot twist and change made to the story (if you read the script and see the movie, you’ll know what I’m talking about). I was right in step with every artistic decision. I was seeing me – only there was nothing on screen that would directly translate to me.

I wanted (hell, I still want) to laugh and cry and scream and let someone know what was going on. I could suddenly envision pages upon pages of the story I’ve been trying to tell for 10 years written. I could suddenly see why all my previous attempts at telling this story had failed. I was watching this movie, but I was seeing my own story playing side by side along with it. It was the epiphany I never knew I needed, and I had it in the middle of a crowded movie theater.

So, I came home and I started to write. Longhand on a steno pad at first, because TPO had bogarted the computer, and once he was off, I stayed up till 6am clacking away at the keyboard, wishing to God that I could type faster to get all of the ideas out of my head before they drifted away.

And these words I’ve typed, they are mine. This is not me mimicking something I’ve seen or read. I do not feel like a phoney or a fraud. This voice belongs to me – I’ve found it finally.

I just had to share that.

So annoyed – the past two nights, I’ve been waking up at around 3-4am from a dead sleep. It’s starting to drive me a bit batty because I am NOT the kind of person that functions well on less than 7 hours sleep.

The thing that’s really bothering me, though, is that despite feeling completely wide awake and aware of my surroundings, my mind is still kind of dreaming, so these weird thoughts and ideas keep surfacing and it takes me a good 5-10 minutes to realize that I’ve never covered my cat in mustard just to see how long it takes her to clean it off. Nor have I had the experience of holding long and complicating conversations with my Guatamalan neighbor¹ in fluent “Guatamalese.”²

Of course, what makes this “fun” is that the only reason I started questioning these memories and realizing that they were dreams is that neither of my cats would sit still enough for me to painstakingly and evenly coat every milimeter of her fur with mustard… and then wait patiently on the table while I went back into the kitchen to get another jar.

I may be going crazy. Crazier? Whatever… but I think I might need to seek some professional help for this if it continues.

1. Who, incidentally, doesn’t actually exist. [↩]
2. A language, incidentally, that doesn’t exist. [↩]

Today, I completely geeked out and bought a $100 universal remote control that will program itself.

Before TPO left, we were using 3 remotes to fulfill all of our entertainment needs. Four if you include the XBox 360 controller. One each for the TV, DVD/VCR, and the Cable/DVR box. We, at one point, were down to just two but then we bought a new (off-brand) TV that we weren’t able to program into the Cable/DVR remote (as we had been able to with the old Sony TV that died). With just two remotes, it was manageable – but because we couldn’t program the TV remote, we HAD to use it in order to power on or off or change the volume. In short, it was obnoxious.

So now, I have a remote that set everything up for me – I list off the devices I have, set it to “update” and then **POOF** it’s all set up to do everything I need it to do in one single remote control.

I know this is a trivial and lame thing to write a whole post about, but… well, that’s just about the most complicated thing I’ve done all day. Apart from laundry, and I think a whole post on my laundry adventures would be way too… depressing.

I am doing better, though. The stress of last week is easing up and I’m actually looking forward to a calmer next week. Err… this week. Whatever.

It’s been a REALLY long time since I’ve posted a quiz. Granted, I did the TMI Tuesday last week, but that doesn’t really count as a quiz.

I am much better now, thank you. I had 4 four-hour class sessions last week in addition to working overtime for a boss who’s pissed off at me for something that he did to himself… all while dealing with the reality of TPO being really gone FOR REAL.

It was a bit overwhelming.

I miss TPO. Work is retarded. My life is in upheaval. I’m a bundled up ball of stress and depression right now. It’s temporary, it will pass because I’m adjusting to life without TPO.

Intellectually, I know this and I’m dealing with it.

What I need to do is vent. I would love to just sit with someone and vent my frustrations and angst and have a shoulder to cry on. Unfortunately, the person who does that best (TPO) is gone, and literally, everyone else on Earth doesn’t seem to understand that I DON’T WANT YOU TO FUCKING FIX MY PROBLEMS OR OFFER ME ADVICE… I JUST WANT YOU TO FUCKING LET ME VENT!!!!

I talk to one friend and I get “you need to start seeing your shrink again.” Thanks a fucking lot. Maybe I should, but what I need from a friend is just an ear, not a lecture.

I talk to another friend and I get “you need to meditate.” Really? Fucking REALLY? Meditate? How about opening your ears and just letting me blow off some steam, instead?

I talk to still a third friend who gives me the great advice that I need to start reading my Bible and praying more. That’s fabulous. Yes… the Bible will allow me to blow off this steam.

I didn’t know this was such a difficult thing to ask of people. Just listen to me and act like you’re on my side. I don’t need help coming up with solutions – I am a logical and thoroughly self-reliant person. I can fix my own problems by myself… and if I can’t, I am very good about seeking the best possible PROFESSIONAL EXPERT to help me fix whatever needs fixing.

It seems that no one but TPO understands that when I complain or whine or rant, that I don’t need someone to come up with a task list. I just want a neutral sounding board to complain or whine or rant. He’s really good about letting me just freak out, cry, and carry on because he knows that once I’m done, I’ll be perfectly fine and back to my normal self.

I think that’s the worst part of dealing with the people in my life who are trying to “be there” for me. More often than not, I already know that I am over-reacting or being melodramatic. I already know that I am feeling something that is contrary to logic. And I admit, most of the time I act like Spock, relying on reason and logic to make my decisions or base my opinions on. Most of my friends tend to get surprised when I suddenly descend into a pool of emotional turmoil. I’m not a robot, though. I have emotions. I have feelings. And when those feelings get to be too much, I have to let them out without judgement, without feeling like I’m wrong, and without getting a ridiculous list of things I “need” to do.

And of course, I don’t know why I didn’t take to using this site. I honestly forgot the therapeutic release I get from venting here and letting my emotions out. I forgot that I could write whatever I wanted here and not worry that my blog would start talking back to me and trying to prove to me that I didn’t have a right to feel the way I was feeling or that I was in some way wrong for feeling the way I was feeling.

I haven’t in the past ever done a TMI Tuesday, but I find myself wanting to post something, but having nothing really to say on this blog… which struck me as odd because this blog is supposed to be my main one. Oh well..

Here goes – my first foray into TMI Tuesday:

1. Would you rather be stranded on an island alone or with someone you dislike/don’t get along with?

This should be fairly obvious – I would rather be alone. I would have a hard time being stuck on an island with people I LIKE, I couldn’t imagine having to be stranded with someone I didn’t like.

2. Would you rather accidentally walk in on your parents having sex or have them walk in on you?

Walk in on me… ::shudder::

3. Would you rather be snapped by paparazzi during a nipple slip or while exiting a car with out any underwear?

Nipple slip, definitely. Though, either one is horrifying to me.

4. Would you rather not have sex for two years or not be able to use the Internet for two years?

Two years as a celibate? I can handle that. Maybe TPO would have a problem, but I’m a military wife – I know how to take care of myself. Being without the internet? OK, sure… maybe I would suddenly find dozens of new and healthy ways to spend my time, but seriously – why would I want that!?

5. Would you rather find true love or 1 million dollars?

I don’t know how to answer this, because I already have a TPO… would I have to give him up for the million? If so, hell no. Or is it saying that I would forever have to give up the chance of finding someone more perfect for me than TPO? Because if that’s the case, hell yeah give me the mill!

Here are all the ways in which my New Year has completely blown  so far (and we’re only on day three):

1. My partner-in-crime, SpecialK, moved off the island last Monday.
2. Did I mention that I’m not big in the friend department? Her and her hubby’s departure cut the number of my on-island friends in half (and I’m including TPO as a friend).
3. TPO left today for the next 8-9 months.
4. My boss is an asshole and decided that instead of giving me a silent day off as he did when one of the other girls in the office had hubby deployment issues, he was going to make me submit a formal request for unpaid leave.
5. Did I mention that whole “TPO left today” thing? Because that’s weighing heavily on my mind.

I realize that I’m being melodramatic right now. I imagine that these next couple days I’ll get over myself and end the pity party… for now, though, I just want to wallow in misery because I can.

May you enjoy your feats of strength as you tell all the people around you how they’ve disappointed you throughout the year.

Happy Festivus.