ampersand

Hello, it’s me

After a loooong hiatus, I finally figured out a way to have both my portfolio and my blog on the same site. Granted, I didn’t actually think about it in any detail till this morning. But, here we are. Goals for this time around: better and more frequent content and way more fun.

While I’m off trying to get things to work and creating little bits and bobs, please enjoy this mother of all Independence Day TV clips — the parade scene from the final episode of The Wonder Years. You might want to grab a Kleenex.

This week

Ridiculous (but completely seasonable) cold, prescription sunglasses that have become my life-line, finally realizing that someone I thought was a close friend is actually someone who probably doesn’t give two shits about me. A common-ish occurrence in my life, actually. Or, the what other people consider ‘caring’ is so different from what I consider ‘caring’ that they will just never measure up. Meh, it’s just further proof that the plan I have brewing is the right one.

Anyway, we need to laugh more. So let’s watch the How I Met Your Mother Season 2 Gag Reel, shall we? Good idea!

How to score with chicks

If you’re looking for a surefire way to score with the ladies, awkwardly speak singing to any song (particularly “Lady” by Styx) might not be the best way to do it. But if she can get over the awkwardness and you can laugh about it, maybe after that you can get some action.

Also, how did this show get cancelled? Oh yeah. NBC buried it on SATURDAY NIGHTS.

Last-minute resolution-type thing

OK, you know I’m at home being lame. And being lame at my apartment has meant a lot of looking around at my stuff. And a lot of that stuff, much of which has accumulated in 2008, is comprised of unread books. So, a goal for 2009 is to read (or attempt to read!) a book a week. 52 books in 1 year. Doesn’t seem like that much. In fact, that number would’ve been nothing to me when I was a kid. Of course, back then, I didn’t have a job, cable had far fewer channels, the internet wasn’t as widespread, and a whole bunch of other reasons. But, enough of the excuses. Tonight, I will finish Sarah Vowell’s The Wordy Shipmates. Tomorrow, I begin Richard Florida’s “Who’s Your City”. A warning: if it ends up that it was New York all along, I am going to be PISSED. Mostly because I STILL can’t figure out a legal way to move there. And, I’ve known that since I was about two. Thanks, Captain Obvious.

Anyway, Happy New Year, gang!

Also, I have absolutely no way to profit from this at all, but if you want to laugh a lot in 2009, you should totally watch It’s Always Sunny in Philadelphia in 2009. It’s totally sick and twisted and hilarious. Plus, Fred Savage directed a bunch of episodes in season 3 & 4. And you love Kevin Arnold, I know you do. Come on. And, it’s on the internet. You can watch it at work!

the universe is busy. leave a message at the tone.

[Editor's Note: I'm cleaning out my 'Drafts' folder. So, you're gonna read some things out of order. This post, for example is from June.]

So, the popularity of “The Secret” and the law of attraction can be directly related to the power of Oprah. However, it’s been around for years, and is no secret. In fact, thanks to The Artist’s Way and Conversations with God, they’re concepts that I’ve known about for years (and that’s all thanks to a friend of mine). Of course, they’re not necessarily concepts I’ve believed in all that much. Otherwise, my life would be much different right now. I guess, though, there’s an argument to the fact that the things I’ve asked the universe for don’t really fit the storyline of my life.

Yes, I’m considering this all in a very writerly fashion. That’s because breaking things down into stories is what I do. That’s who I am. And that epiphany is what’s driving my current  upswing into believing this whole “The Universe is listening” thing again, like it’s some kind of esoteric THX.

Why am I on this bandwagon again? Because a couple of weeks ago, I realized just how unhappy I am in my life. Just, supremely and totally underwhelmed. Hours after I realized that and decided that this unhappiness was instead a massive opportunity, I stumbled across the blog of a TV writer. She’d recently posted some insider info about a writing fellowship I’d considered applying to years before, but had ruled out based on its price. Except now it’s free. And the deadline is in a few short weeks. So, I took that to be a sign and committed myself to a few weeks of craziness while I attempt to write two sitcom spec scripts. We’ll see what happens come October.

[Hi, me again. It turns out I only wrote one script for the application -- a spec episode of Scrubs. Yeah, yeah, call it overdone, it's the show that called to me.]

i did it.

so, i didn’t end up writing TWO scripts for this competition. but I did complete one, just by the skin of my teeth. and from where i sit now, on my couch, inhaling a pint of haagen-dazs while watching Oprah discuss my second favorite book of all time, Middlesex, i’m pretty proud of it. The script. Not the slothful behavior and lack of a balanced meal. This is the first thing I’ve eaten since approximately 10:30 last night, and before that the week was spent only grazing.

So, this week has put me through the gauntlet physically, mentally and emotionally. Before I crash (I’m operating on no sleep in nearly 36 hours), I have to say that starting this week, I’m gonna take better care of my body. Unless I make some changes, my body’s not going to let me put it through this kind of trial as I age. Right now, however, I am in a wonderful mood. Perhaps it’s the onset of delirium.

But I’m so glad and grateful and proud that I’ve managed to somehow juggle 60-hour work weeks, plus freelance work on the side and participating in a semi-active social life with the consumption of mass quantities of Scrubs, and the planning, writing and rewriting of this script. And I’m thankful for all the people who’ve been supportive of this pursuit.

After a couple weeks off, I’m starting a Big Bang Theory script. But between now and then, I’ve tacked on a couple days to a long weekend and will be getting my life back together on those days.

But first, sleep. Lots and lots of sleep.

busy busy busy!

A status update. I’m giving up on the online dating thing for a while. There’s been too much run-around, not enough actual dating. When did the world (myself included, absolutely) lose its follow-through?

But, fear not (because I knew you were scared)! Instead of devoting my time to shopping for a boyfriend, I’m throwing myself back into TV writer-mode. In the next three weeks, I’m planning to write TWO sitcom spec scripts to submit to a fellowship in LA. On top of my work commitments, time out from the migraines that will not be kept down, softball and friend time, I’m gonna get this done.

Still deciding what shows to spec. I want to write a Scrubs, but everyone’s declaring it played. Which, I guess makes sense. The show’s entering its eighth season. But I think I’ve got a good idea. And then there’s the Flight of the Conchords episode I outlined. And a couple of other shows I’m considering. Guess I better make these decisions sooner rather than later.

Time to get back to work!

ghost town

This kind of thing happens a lot. I’ll think about a movie or a TV show, and bam! The episode or movie is on the air within a couple of days. It’s sort of like having my own OnDemand system. And, it’s happening right now.

Of course, last week was the estrogen-a-go-go that was the premiere of the Sex and the City movie. I was one of the hordes there on opening night, though unlike the women who stumbled into the theatre in their too-tall shoes and too-short skirts, I was not dressed in my halloween-costume version of any of Carrie’s hit (or miss) outfits.

Anyway, the movie had some major flaws, but it also had a lot of the heart I loved about the series. I cried. A lot. Which shouldn’t be surprising, considering how much I LOVE the show. But, the movie also got me thinking.

Watching Carrie and Big’s life unfold once more (only this time, on a ginormous screen), I couldn’t help but wonder: is the man I’ve been trying to forget for the past month going to turn out to be my Big? Despite being a neurotic writer, I’ve never fancied myself to be a Carrie Bradshaw-type. Truth be told, I am a dyed-in-the-wool Miranda Hobbes, including often missing the boat, fashion-wise. I hope to get it together at some point, just like she did.

Anyway, back to the Carrie/Big analogy. It’s mostly a case of me going through weeks and months of trying to forget him, to ignore him, to move on to someone who will pay attention to me all the time, not just when it’s convenient for him. Or, more accurately, when he somehow senses that I’m nearly free of the inescapable tethers that keep me tied to him, back he comes and I once again find myself incapable of getting him out of my system.

Perhaps I shouldn’t be romanticizing it by comparing him to the presence that is Chris Noth’s character, and should really start to consider this man to be the romantic equivalent of a urinary tract infection, always popping up when you think you’re finally rid of them for good.

I was doing pretty well with the forgetting. Or, as well as can be expected for a girl who chronically overthinks basically everything. And then, people started talking about him, and one of the nicknames I have for him came up in a completely unrelated conversation. He was haunting me, and I haven’t even seen him in a couple weeks.

Home, alone with only the bunny and my thoughts, the haunting started to take full effect. The thoughts, the wondering, the thinking wishful thoughts. And it continued after I fell asleep. Tossing, turning and fitful REM cycles were augmented by dreams that I don’t even remember, except for him. Always him. I woke up at 4. And 5. And finally gave up going back to sleep at 6, when I was haunted by thoughts of him in full consciousness.

And so, I went through my day, trying to banish him to the cobwebby nooks and crannies of my brain. You know, where grade 9 math hides. And everything from that philosophy class I took in first year. It was mostly successful. Then I got home and found that Sex and the City was on. Which episode? Ghost Town (yes, I’m uncreative and stole the episode title for the title of this post. What of it?), where Carrie is haunted by the ghost of her past with Aidan, Miranda is haunted by her past with Steve (and quite possibly an actual spectre), Samantha is haunted by her past with men, and Charlotte can’t get rid of her mother-in-law.

So, of course, I’m right back to being haunted. Contacting him seems like a bad, masochistic situation, though not all that different from where I am right now. Throwing myself into other pursuits will be the plan for the weekend, but I feel like it’ll only be a matter of time before I get right back here again.

To quote another single in the big city fictional writer-type: Blergh.

Damn you, Jim Halpert!

I’m all verklempt. Talk amongst yourselves.

No, seriously. Watching “The Office” tonight made me cry like I’ve haven’t cried in a really long time.

Clearly, SOMEBODY is a little too invested in Jim & Pam’s relationship.

Also, yay Kevin for winning the parking spots back!

Thoughts while watching SNL

I’m not a fan of men who wear scarves as an accessory. Thank you, Ashton Kutcher for perpetuating another misguided fashion trend.

There are lots of cute boys on SNL these days. Maybe they’re not traditional hotties, but then again, that’s never been my bag. Plus, they’re goofy and funny and smart on top of all the cute.

I heart Amy Poehler. And all the other ladies on the show right now rock pretty hard themselves.

Oh, Studio 8H, how I long to visit thee.

And there’s always someone who says the show sucks, or isn’t what it used to be, or any of the same criticisms people have been using since 1976, it’s time to shut the hell up. Have you SEEN some of those early sketches? The show was never perfect from start to finish. There will always be bad sketches and jokes that go on too long and weak-link performers. Like, come on people. Can you imagine how much sheer creative force (not to mention hard work) has to go into NINETY MINUTES of air time?

Why is SNL derided so badly when in baseball, an average of .300 is amazing? If, in sport, you can get a hit THREE times out of ten and be hall of fame material, why do people expect seasons upon seasons of comedic perfection?