Friday, July 18, 2008

My New Blog.

Well, a new blog I am affiliated with, anyway. It's Dana's blog.

It's basically the best idea Dana has ever had. We write two-word phrases (four-letter words, natch) on her fingers, then take a picture of it and post it, with a brief explanation. The first day showcased the iconic "Thug Life," then Dana got creative and came up with "Taco Bell." I'm the Art Director, which means I draw the words on her, and take the pictures. I've also come up with some of the knuckle phrases. "Head Lice"? That one was all me. The forthcoming post (I don't want to ruin the surprise) is my favorite yet, and I wrote the blurb explaining why it was such an important choice. The credit for the phrase is all Dana, though.

If you can think of any sweet knuckle phrases you'd like to see written on Dana, please pass them along.

Monday, July 7, 2008

Yay school.

Right, quickly: Had my procedure, everything is fine. Also, I did tell my mom about it, she was very supportive. I still don't have internet at home, and have very limited access at work, so... I exist only in the real world, for the most part. Sad, but also liberating, as I no longer feel the need to hit "refresh" every few minutes when I do happen to be on a computer. I've completely stopped Slogging, am rarely on myspace, and as you can see don't do much updating here. It's just a phase, I'm sure.

The biggest thing going on for me right now (aside from hanging out with Jon all the time, because I'm one of those people who falls in love and stops calling her friends) is the Creative Writing class I'm taking. It's basically great. Almost everyone in the class seems to want to be there, which makes a huge difference. There's a real sense of camaraderie when we discuss our pieces, and I love it. With that said, I'm going to include my first assignment, a short dialogue in the style of a one-act play (not that I'd expect anyone to act it out, the point of the assignment was writing dialogue and making believing characters that the reader/listener cares about). Sorry subscribers, I don't know the blogspot equivalent of an "lj-cut," so it's going to be long.

"The Forever Girl"
Cecilia; 30 years old, dark hair, business-casual dress.
Tom; 35 years old, tall, conventionally attractive, wearing a suit.
Setting: Mid-scale hotel room, not fancy, not dirty. Both sitting on the made bed, both fully dressed, except for Tom’s jacket, which has been hung on a chair. Her purse is on the desk, above which hangs a mirror.

Cecilia: So, she’s "the one?"

Tom: She fucking better be. I asked her to marry me, didn’t I?

Cecilia: Don’t swear at me. You never used to swear at me.

Tom: (Stands) I didn’t swear at you, I swore to emphasize how insulting your question was. What’s your problem, anyway?

Cecilia: What’s my problem!? I’m not the one who walked in and announced I was getting married with as much gravity as if I had said I was buying a new couch.

Tom: Well, it is like buying a couch. A slightly used couch, that I’m keeping forever.

Cecilia: You’re disgusting.

Tom: Oh come on, that was funny. I’ve never known you to be sentimental, Cecilia. You’ve picked an odd time to start.

Cecilia: Well excuse me for not being overwhelmed with joy at your connubial bliss.

Tom: Impending connubial bliss; we’re not married yet.

Cecilia: Same difference. I want my records back, by the way.

Tom: Your records? Jesus, Cee. (Sits) Nothing is changing, I’ll just have a ring on my finger. I can take it off before we meet if it bothers you that much.

Cecilia: Nothing is changing!? Everything has changed. You’re changing everything, and you act like it’s nothing.

Tom: Don’t be so dramatic. I’m marrying Angie because she’s put in the effort, because she deserves it. She’ll be a great mom and she’s not afraid to host Thanksgiving dinner. She’s everything a man could ever desire, and she’s given me her loveliest years. So I’m giving her half of my assets. It’s only fair.

Cecilia: You’re revolting.

Tom: If that were true, you wouldn’t be here.

Cecilia: (Making eye contact) If she were everything a man could ever desire, you wouldn’t be here.

Tom: (Pregnant pause) Fine. She’s all a normal man should desire. I need a little more. That’s why I have you. (reaches for her hand)

Cecilia: (Withdraws hand) Had me. I don’t sleep with married men.

Tom: Oh for crying out loud. What’s the difference? I was with her when we met, it didn’t stop
you then.

Cecilia: She was your girlfriend then. Now she’s your fiancee, soon to be your wife. I refuse to be the "other woman."

Tom: (Gently) Cee, you were always the "other woman."

Cecilia: (Staring ahead, refusing to meet his gaze) Not like this.

Tom: (Tom looks thoughtful. He stands and paces the room slowly) I had no idea you could possibly care about this so much. I thought we understood each other.

Cecilia: Funny, so did I.

Tom: Did it really never occur to you that I might marry someone else? You couldn’t have thought that I was going to propose to you.

Cecilia: Don’t be stupid, of course not. Not any time soon, anyway... I mean, no, I don’t want to marry you. Not actively. But I guess I saw more romance in our liaison when it didn’t end with your swearing loyalty to someone else before God and your mother.

Tom: But that’s what I’m saying; we don’t have to end with that. It circumvents that entirely, because the two are unrelated.

Cecilia: Unrelated!? Incredible. (Stands) So, if you thought that you and I understood each other, do you think you and Angie understand each other? (Paces contemplatively)

Tom: Of course. We’ve lived together for years. We’re practically symbiotic.

Cecilia: So she knows about me? Knows about us?

Tom: Are you kidding? Of course not.

Cecilia: (Sarcastically) What, she wouldn’t understand?

Tom: You know perfectly well why she doesn’t know about us. I’ve never met a girl who was that understanding.

Cecilia: Well, maybe she’ll surprise you. Maybe she’ll still want to marry you when she finds out.

Tom: I guess I’ll never know, because she’s not going to find out.

Cecilia: Oh? What makes you so sure?

Tom: (Looking her in the eye) Because I’m not going to tell her, and you’re not going to tell her, and no one we know is going to tell her.

Cecilia: You’re never going to tell her.

Tom: That’s the general idea of an affair.

Cecilia: (Sits on the bed, bouncing a little. Mischievously) And what if I tell her?

Tom: (Nears Cecilia and kneels to meet her eye level) You won’t, because you wouldn’t get anything out of it. It would do absolutely nothing for you. You hate scenes, you don’t like emotional women, and most of all you couldn’t stand being marked as a woman scorned. You would look jealous, and you would look weak. And that’s not the Cecilia I know. That you are neither of those things is why I couldn’t stay away from you.

Cecilia: I liked you because you were emotionally unavailable and good in bed.

Tom: A match made in heaven.

Cecilia: (She breaks his gaze, and stares ahead as she lets the sadness well. Tearfully, more to Fate than to Tom) Why does this always happen to me?

Tom: (Rises and sits next to her on the bed) I can’t answer that for you.

Cecilia: I’m always the temptation, the private conquest, the secret. I’m never THE girl, the bring-home-to-mom girl, the Forever girl.

Tom: Maybe not everyone is made to be that girl. Maybe you’re meant for something else. You don’t strike me as the white-picket-fence, happily-ever-after type, Cee.

Cecilia: (Absorbs what Tom said. Collecting herself, she stands and walks over to the desk, looking at herself in the mirror) You’re right, I should have expected this. You can marry whomever you like, it makes no difference to me.

Tom: And what about us?

Cecilia: There is no "us."

Tom: I thought you might say that. I’ll miss you like crazy, you know.

Cecilia: (Turns to face him) You’ll cope. I need you to leave, now.

Tom: (Stands, crosses the room to her and takes her in his arms. He leans in to kiss her, but she
turns her face).

Cecilia: Now.

Tom: (He releases her, and removes his jacket from the chair, putting it on) That’s more like the woman I know. I’ll have my assistant drop those records off . They’re great recordings, you have good taste.

Cecilia: I know. Goodbye, Tom.

Tom: Take care, Cee. (He opens the door, turns to look at her, then exits, closing the door behind him)

Cecilia: (Turns to the mirror and smooths her hair) "White picket fence." Of course I don’t want
a white picket fence. That’s the most boring idea of forever I’ve ever heard. If that’s what he thinks "happily ever after" is, she can have him. (Picks up her purse and exits, without looking back)

It looks like the italics on the stage directions didn't copy. I'll try to fix that later, but for now I'm posting it as-is. The assignment is due tomorrow at 6, so I don't have a lot of time to make edits from feedback, but if you have a suggestion between now and like 5 pm tomorrow, please post it. Obviously, "It sucks, rewrite it," wouldn't be a particularly helpful suggestion;I'm more looking for small changes in wording to make it sound more natural, or anything someone thinks needs clarification.

That's all for now. Our next assignment is poetry, so in the near future I'll be posting some of that, looking for help. Poetry is not a strength of mine and I'm a little nervous, but also excited to hopefully improve my skills.

OH. And I have the dates for Maine: August 27th - September 2nd. Not very long, I know. But, Jon is coming with me! He's going to meet my family and see where I grew up and it's basically a big deal. So I'm excited for that.