Things That Make Me Happy

My life sucks right now for a multitude of reasons that I do not care to divulge. But I am taking a cue from my brilliant friend Jessica right now, and focusing on the things that make me happy.

1. Lists.

I think most of the posts on this blog are at least partially in list format. Lists help me make sense of things. There's some kind of weird satisfaction to be derived in taking inventory of things in an easily digestible format, and checking them off one by one. When I was a little girl I would make lists of my chores (which I would do completely willingly and with joy if I got a little index card to write them all down on). I even won an award for this slightly OCD behavior in my Sunday School class. Even when I'm miserable, writing a list of all the things that piss me off somehow makes me feel better.

Jesus bonding with my dad.
(This sentence is hilarious if you know
my vehemently atheistic father)

2. Jesus.

I don't mean your Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ. But Jesus, my family's dog back in Foresthill. My parents call him something else, but that's not his real name. I don't call my dog Jesus because I'm being sacrilegious or deliberately insulting (though I do admit to feeling a bit of mischevious glee due to this moniker). He is Jesus because he is kind, loyal, protective, and loves unconditionally. He can tell when I'm feeling sad and just his quiet presence is comforting.

3. Stan.

I know that Stan is an inanimate object. He can't really think, complain, or sympathize. But there have been many times that I have just sat in my car and felt like I wasn't alone. In a not-creepy kind of way. It's like being with an old friend who has been with me through so many ups and downs (some of which he actually caused), and is still trucking along.

It only comes around once in a blue moon.
Unless you go through a LOT of peanut butter I suppose.

4. Peanut Butter.

Specifically the first spoonful from a brand new jar of Skippy creamy peanut butter. Simple pleasures.

5. Being Employed.

I have had some rocky times with my career, though so far, the move to a new property in Pasadena has been amazing. I'm still adjusting, but at least I have a reason to get up and put on pants in the morning. A few years ago, pants were optional, and that was a very depressing state of mind. So I'm grateful to have a job.

I love it. Not ashamed one bit.
Even without the iconic theme song.

6. Netflix.

Netflix is my escape. I love being able to come home and lose myself in a ridiculously long marathon of whatever show I happen to be obsessed with at the time. Right now I'm knee-deep in Dawson's Creek, a show that I absolutely loved as a middle schooler, before I really understood half of what they were talking about. When you watch something is just as important as what you watch. And right now, it's so much easier to focus on the contrived problems of 30-year-old, narcissistic teenagers from a bygone era, than my own.

7. Cleaning.

While I am far from being a neat freak, there is something very cathartic about putting things back in order. When my apartment is cluttered, I feel like my brain is cluttered. Putting myself in project-mode, makes me feel productive and proactive, not useless and helpless. The best feeling of all is scrubbing my shower. While I keep things usually pretty tidy, this is one task that does not get done as often as it should. And it seems to happen mostly when there's been a big change in my life. Some girls get haircuts, I break out the Scrubbing Bubbles. There's some sort of symbolism there, but I don't feel like analyzing it right now.

The other side is pink, thus the name,
'Pretty Pink Blanket.'

8. My Pretty Pink Blanket.

Yes, I have a security blanket. I never really dragged it around with me like Linus in Peanuts, while sucking my thumb. But I still have the pink, floral bedspread with white lace around the edges that my mommy made me when I was probably around 6 or 7. It will always be the most warm, comfortable blanket ever. Even when it's too damn hot for a blanket, like right now, just seeing it draped over my crappy black futon makes me happy.

9. Taking a Walk.

I've been wallowing the past two days of my belated three-day weekend. I haven't really left the house other than to go to Sally Tomatoes practice, and 7-11 to buy some ill-advised Cookies & Cream. As important as that is for me to recharge, sometimes you just have to get out of the house. My favorite place to walk is down Magnolia in Burbank. There are a ton of cute little antique and vintage shops that I never actually go in, but love to pass by. I love just listening to my iPod, which always knows the right song to play, and figuring things out while shuffling along aimlessly.

10. Writing.

I don't really mean blogging, though that makes me happy too. Whenever I'm trying to deal with something, I open up a blank Word document and just start typing. It's amazing feeling to channel the crazed thoughts swirling around my chaotic brain into actual words. Writing the things I can't really tell anyone, and don't even like admitting to myself. It's the best therapy, and I highly recommend it. I also recommend securing the document with a password, because no one should ever have to read those manic, self-absorbed rants. (Though these blogs are only slightly less manic and self-absorbed...)

There are very few pictures of my entire family,
and even fewer that are easily pulled from other online sources.
I'm the little one inexplicably sitting in a car seat while not actually in a car.

11. My family.

Having a list of 11 items may seem like an odd number (get it? Odd? ba dum chhh!), and I guess this one kind of goes without saying. I also keep trying to think of a clever Spinal Tap reference that hasn't already been done, but just insert one here. Anyway, my family is amazing. They're all truly incredible people (except Nick. He's pretty dumb. Just kidding. He probably won't even read this) and even though they sometimes drive me nuts, I'm glad they're in my life. I include my friends in this category as well.

I'm including this one because my mom isn't in the one above.

Anyway, that's enough sap to fill an entire bottle of syrup. I need to get going on my cathartic cleaning rampage. That shower isn't going to scrub itself!

Words You Should Use More

As a writer (sort of), I'm obviously a big fan of words. Which is why I firmly believe that we should all be expanding our vocabulary and using every conversation, status update, even tweet, as an excuse to employ a variety of awesome words. In that spirit, I've compiled a list of words that never fail to make me smile. Try and use them in a sentence today, just to humor me.

This picture is very literal. 

• Hooch
• Noun. Meaning booze. It invokes the idea of an old-timey speakeasy like the kind I recently discovered in Varnish in Downtown LA. And for some reason, when I'm having a bad day and really need a drink, calling it hooch makes it that much more satisfying.
• Shenanigans and/or Tomfoolery
• Noun. Meaning silly antics. It makes me think of good times with good friends doing stupid stuff.
• Fisticuffs
• Noun. Meaning a fight. I picture a couple of dandies slapping each other with designer gloves and that image is just priceless.

Fabulous.

• Dandy
• Adjective. Meaning great. Also, as a noun, "a man who affects extreme elegance in clothes and manners; a fop." I also like fop. Basically I think of Oscar Wilde and he totally would have been my gay best friend had we been contemporaries. We also have the same birthday which can't be a coincidence.
• Bitchin'
• Adjective. Meaning awesome. I know it's outdated, but slang words are cyclical. I think this one is ripe for a comeback. I also like that it's such a delightful, positive notion and yet it contains a swear word.
• Jaunty
• Adjective. Meaning...well I'm not sure what the exact definition is. I just know it when I see it. Basically I think of Clark Gable and other men who wear fedoras at a rakish angle. Ok, just googled it and it means "Having a buoyant or self-confident air, or crisp and dapper in appearance." Nice.
• Impervious
• Adjective. Meaning bulletproof. Well, not literally. But even saying the word makes me feel powerful. I'm a just a loon like that.

Such glorious disdain.

• Aces
• Exclamation. Meaning "that's good," but mostly sarcastically. I love this because John Hughes wrote it, and Molly Ringwald said it in Sixteen Candles. And when you're really pissed off, and someone is trying in vain to cheer you up, this is such a great comeback.
• Dig
• Verb, as in "I dig that." Meaning "I enjoy that."Also a slang term that has since faded into relative oblivion. But it's making a comeback, if I have anything to say about it.
• Loathe
• Verb. Meaning hate. If hate is such an ugly word, loathe is a lot more dignified and elegant. It also feels so much more sincere. You have to really hate something to use the word loathe.
• Grand
• Adjective. Also meaning great. Whenever someone asks me how I am, I refuse to say fine or great. I try to use a different response every time. I also like magnificent, tremendous, and phenomenal. It tends to catch people off guard and make you appear very winsome and adorable. Which I am.
• Indomitable
• Adjective. Meaning "impossible to subdue or defeat." This is another empowering word. Especially when combined in the phrase "indomitable will." It makes you feel like you are stronger than anything that comes your way.

His face is priceless here.

• Inconceivable
• Adjective. Meaning unbelievable. I love this almost exclusively because of the Princess Bride. "You keep on using that word. I do not think it means what you think it means."
• Hootenanny and/or Shindig
• Noun. Meaning a gathering of sorts. You know you're going to have a good time if you're going not to a soiree, which sounds really boring, but a good ol' fashioned hootenanny!

At first I was having a hard time coming up with more than like eight, but then they just started pouring out of my brain. I'm cutting myself off in order to avoid sounding like a rip-off of Urban Dictionary. But I will open this up to anyone who wishes to submit their own spectacular verbiage. (Oooh, two more great words!)

The Bad Writers Club

One of my favorite subjects to write about is how much I hate writing. Actually that's a lie. I don't exactly hate it, I just never seem to do it. How can someone who claims to love something so much never get around to actually doing it? It's one of life's great conundrums. Ever since I graduated from school, I've had no one to hold me accountable for writing. I need deadlines, structure, and pressure from external influences. That's how this blog came about. But now that work has been crazy and I haven't had a lot of free time, it's been so easy just to watch Saturday Night Live on my Netflix, drink a pink lemonade vodka tonic (a cocktail I invented and call WHITE DIAMONDS!! which is a 30 Rock reference and not an homage to Elizabeth Taylor) and go to bed early.

WHITE DIAMONDS!!

Luckily, the other day I was purging my spam e-mails (as I am wont to do when not writing), and I discovered a notice from Meetup.com (which is not a dating site even though it totally sounds like anonymous kinky sex). They send me junk mail all the time because I'm too lazy even to unsubscribe. If you've never heard of it, it's how I discovered the Sally Tomatoes, my a cappella singing group which kicks complete and total ass. Whatever you're interested in, there's a group for that. It's great for when you just move to a city and don't know anyone and therefore have nothing to do. Usually the e-mails are about groups I have no interested in. Like the West Coast Custom Grill Enthusiasts Club, or the Batty Old Ladies Knitting and Competing over Grandchildren's Accomplishments, or the Skanky Sluts in Tiny Cocktail Dresses who Get Drunk on Smirnoff Ices and Say WOO a Lot. But this group was called the Bad Writers Club for LA Television writers. Whoa (not woo)! That's me! It's for writers with bad habits. Like not writing. Or not finishing what you start. Or getting distracted like a kitten with a bit o' string. I have all of those bad habits! These are my people!

Self-Portrait.

So even though I'm no longer a joiner by nature, after having burned myself out on extra-curricular activities in high school trying desperately to get into college, I joined the ranks of the Bad Writers. I might as well, seeing as I am their Queen, Pope, and Magistrate. Today is my first meeting with them at a "Coffee and Bitch" session in Westwood. But now that today is today, I'm kind of feeling over it already. After a long week which I can only describe with the terms, "Witness Protection," "Saudi Princess," and "Tila Tequila," I just want to retreat into Saturday Night Live (my current obsession and future goal to be a part of, whether it's host, cast member, head writer, sporadic contributing writer, or even just audience member). But the number one reason I don't want to go is because parking is a bitch in Westwood. I used to work there, so I know. And I won't go somewhere if I know parking sucks. Even on Sunday when I think the meters don't apply.

It's a rare occasion that I get to type these words.

So being lazy is preventing me from going to a meeting about lazy people. I'm procrastinating the meeting of Procrastinators Anonymous. I'll probably end up going because I made such a big deal out of the Bad Writers Club and how this is just the thing to get me off my ass and start writing. And I'd hate to disappoint my public (*waves condescendingly).

Kickass Women in Film

Today I was fortunate enough to break away from mountains of paperwork to attend an incredible seminar entitled "The Chick Flick Grows Up," programmed by the organization Women in Film. I'd been looking forward to this conference ever since I found out that the panel would include the writer/directors of some of my favorite films: Karen McCullah (10 Things I Hate About You, Legally Blond, She's the Man), Lisa Cholodenko (The Kids Are Alright, which I plan to see ASAP, Laurel Canyon), and Gina Prince-Bythewood (Love and Basketball, The Secret Life of Bees). I was stoked just to be in the same room as these ladies. They could have talked about navel lint and Panamanian tadpoles and I would have been enthralled. But in an hour and a half, they covered some fairly major issues. Here comes the obligatory list:

Karen McCullah Lutz

1. What is a 'chick flick?' Does the term "ghettoize/marginalize" the creators and/or audience of female-driven content? (Yes they used the word 'ghettoize' than once. It made me giggle.)

2. Why are so many female-centric films still directed by men? Television has a much greater proportion of female directors; why has film yet to catch up? Kathryn Bigelow and the Hurt Locker. How a female director transcended her gender to win Best Picture.

3. Ageism in the media. There are so few actresses over forty who can get a project greenlit right away, if they can get cast at all.

4. Why is a female-written R-rated romantic comedy like the Ugly Truth (penned by McCullah) derided in reviews as "obscene" when Judd Apatow's films are praised for their vulgarity. (I'm not saying the Ugly Truth is as good as Knocked Up. But it does make you wonder why male writers/directors/actors can get away with with swearing like sailors and minds in the gutter, but it's inappropriate for women to be raunchy.)

5. The concept of "likeability." Impossible to define and even harder to create consistently. Prince-Bythewood told an anecdote about how studio executives didn't think Sanaa Latham was likeable enough because she wasn't smiling in the majority of the first week of dailies (most of the scenes were heavily dramatic). They were also perplexed by why she didn't seem to enjoy losing her virginity in a pivotal scene. The women in the audience had a good laugh at that one. She was chided for being too realistic.

Gina Prince-Bythewood

6. MPAA ratings and how they affect the final draft of the script. The House Bunny was supposed to be R rated. It was about a Playboy model, for god's sake. But in order to capitalize on McCullah's Legally Blonde audience, they had to tone down the naughty humor. Sacrificing tone for mainstream appeal.

7. Why everyone loves scripts by Prince-Bythewood and Cholodenko, but no one will pay for them. High quality movies that they want to see get made, but aren't willing to risk millions of dollars on primarily black casts (that haven't played well internationally), or cause controversy by addressing the subject of homosexuality in a family context.

8. How casting is often decided by a formula that determines a star's 'international worth,' rather than who is best for the role.

9. What it means to compromise during the marketing campaign and let the experts get butts in the seats. It may not always be what you want, but if it gets people to see your movie, you have to pick your battles.

10. Paying respect to male characters in female-centric movies (as opposed to the arc-less, shrew girlfriends in most male-driven fare)

Any one of those topics could make for fantastic feminist/film research papers, but I'm not willing to delve deeper for a silly little blog. If any of them strike your interest, feel free to discuss in the comments. And now for some sound bites (they may not be exact quotes, but I think I got the spirit of them):

"Men are often surprised at how funny 'Legally Blonde' is." -McCullah on the subtle sexism of lowered expectations.

"No one ever thought of it as a black book. It was just a book." -Prince-Bythewood on 'The Secret Life of Bees.'

"Don't limit yourself when writing. Let them worry about the budget." -McCullah

"It's all about the way you feel when you leave the theater." -Prince-Bythewood on why no one thought Slumdog Millionaire would ever find an audience with no stars.

"Your film's gotta have great laughs or great sex. Something that really gets the heart beating." -Cholodenko on advice she was given by male studio execs.

"Dear ____, I"m so sorry about your tiny penis." -McCullah in response to a critic who didn't appreciate the line about Joey Donner's tiny dick in 10 Things.

"Once you label yourself as something, others will label you as well." -Prince-Bythewood, on being an African-American woman who refuses to pigeonhole the stories she wants to tell.

Lisa Cholodenko

Overall it was an inspiration just to share oxygen with women who have overcome discrimination of all kinds to achieve both critical acclaim and commercial success. They were insightful and hilarious (especially Karen McCullah. I now regret dissing the Ugly Truth. It was a cute movie that took place in my under-appreciated hometown of Sacramento). The experience reignited my easily vanquished desire to write. It gave me hope that I might one day sit on that very panel and inspire some other lazy girl with a blog and a dream. It was also fun to see three women who may share an occupation and a role in reversing the marginalization of women in the film industry, but have nothing else in common and clearly can't stand each other.

Intercourse, Falsehoods, and Voyeurism

Tonight I got to feel like a bigshot, with my name on "the List" and a comped ticket to see a screening of one of IFTA's 30 Most Significant Independent Films. (Check out the full list. I disagree with some of them, but these kinds of things are always subjective). I dressed up for the occasion, projecting the image of a successful businesswoman in my wrap dress, trench coat, and pointy black heels. I was hoping to network a little, though knowing my crippling social awkwardness, I doubted that I would finally meet my stepping stone to stardom. (Spoiler alert, I didn't...) The fancy attire was also a tribute to one of my favorite shows of all time, How I Met Your Mother. If you haven't heard, today was International Suit-Up Day, so I had to bring it.

To be honest, the only reason I went to the screening was because it was sadly undersold and I was filling a seat. Plus, to quote Ally Sheedy in the Breakfast club, "I didn't have anything better to do." When I arrived (rather over-dressed I might add), the mid-sized theater was maybe 20% filled. I know it's a Wednesday night, and who wants to see an older movie on a Wednesday night? But still, this movie was absolutely breathtaking on the big screen. Did I mention that it was Sex, Lies, and Videotape (thus my clever, misleading title)? If you haven't seen Steven Soderbergh's brilliant debut film, then Netflix the crap out of it right this instant. I saw it for the first time a couple years ago. I probably got it from the now bankrupt Blockbuster (my home away from home for many a-year and a-paycheck), and watched it on my 15 inch laptop screen. Like most DVDs, I probably watched it in increments, like chapters in a book, depending on my schedule. I remember liking it, but it was pretty much forgotten as soon as it hit the return bin.

Obligatory Photo. I feel like blogs with photos are easier to read.

I used to think the format didn't matter when you watched a movie. As long as the movie is good, it should hold up on any size screen, no 3-D, high-def, or surround sound necessary. I still believe this to be true. But seeing Sex, Lies, and Videotape in the theater made all the difference in the world. It's a dialogue-heavy, character-driven art house film, which means it's not for everyone or every mood. But with a movie that relies so much on subtext and incredibly powerful performances, every nuance was magnified. My attention wasn't diverted by IM, homework, the phone, roommates, or the world around me. I was completely immersed in that world. And it reminded me of why I got into this business to begin with.

After the nightmare of unemployment, and now my enjoyable but ultimately non-creative day job in an office, I've started to lose focus on my passion. And it took Steven Soderbergh's voyeuristic exploration of a drifting married couple and a mysterious outsider to make me pay attention. So the moral of the story is, see movies in the theater if you can afford it (which I usually can't), because it monumentally impacts your viewing experience.

I couldn't help but wonder...

As I was watching the Sex and the City movie, I started thinking about Carrie Bradshaw's sex column. I have a lot of issues with SATC, which I'll probably go into more detail at another time. Basically, my main problem is that it's about supposedly smart, sophisticated and independent women but the only thing they find to talk about is men and shoes. It's so superficial, one-dimentional, and poorly written. I'm a fan of the occasional pun, but when that's the extent of your humor and writing prowess, maybe you shouldn't be a writer. It's also one long advertisement for Louis Vitton, Manolo Blahnik, and Mercedes Benz. Despite all this I still watch it frequently and find it immensely satisfying on a very shallow level.

I could rant forever about Sex and the City, but for now I'll just focus on the topic at hand. The whole premise of the show/movie is that Carrie Bradshaw is a writer who uses herself and her friends as the subjects of social and sexual discussion in her columns. Now, I've seen every single episode and the first movie several times (I haven't bothered with the second for obvious reasons). And although the ladies have had drama among themselves (my personal favorite is when Miranda actually points out the fact that their entire lives, not to mention conversation, focus on men), they don't seem to be bothered by Carrie's candid revelations of their most intimate relationships and sexual encounters.

Carrie contemplating how she can use her friends' intimate gossip for profit

There's a joke in the movie that Samantha makes her maid of honor speech. "In our group, we never kiss and tell." It's funny because that's all they do. I have no problem with girl talk among friends. Certainly my friends and I share more details with each other than our own partners would appreciate. But Carrie delves into every instance of lady parts problems, mechanical mishap, secret fetish, and each indiscretion with all of New York as an audience. I can't help but wonder, doesn't this bother Samantha, Charlotte, and Miranda? Each of them has a very public image, high power career, relationships to maintain, and in Charlotte's case, a prudish sense of sexual privacy. Are they getting a cut of Carrie's profit from their secrets? Is that why they don't mind the breach of slumber party/cocktail confidence?

The reason it irritates me that it doesn't irritate them is that as a writer myself, I often wonder where to draw the line when drawing from my own experiences and those of my acquaintances. There are some incredible stories I could tell about my friends, but there is no way I would share them with the world. That's the worst kind of gossip, the kind that could actually damage reputations and dissolve friendships. I even quibble about characters I've written that are partially inspired by real people. I'm so afraid of offending people, worse of getting sued by them. Maybe it all comes down to the fact that Carrie is so self-absorbed that she listens to her friends and instantly ponders how she can use the intel for her new book. She doesn't consider that it might hurt Miranda's career as a partner at a law firm, or Samantha's public relations gigs.

In the end I guess it doesn't matter. As much as Sex and the City drives me nuts, I still love it and will probably keep watching it over and over again while drinking cosmos with my girls. Like Twilight, it taps into that primal girl psyche, and overrides any rational realization that it's vapid and ridiculous. Also Patricia Fields' costume choices more often than not make my eyes wish they could vomit. I know she's considered a genius or whatever, but about 95% of the time, the ladies just look absurd. But I love to hate it, even though I secretly love it. Holy guilty pleasure, Batman.

Five Books That Have Inspired Me as a Writer

Since I seem to be obsessed with lists, I've decided to compile a small selection of the books that have influenced me most as a writer. Keep in mind that these are not my favorite books (though some of them are). But each one uniquely affected my personal voice and style.

1. Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen. I know this is an obvious choice and P&P is every girl with half a brain's favorite book. But I love Jane Austen with all of my heart and soul. I feel that we would have been BFFs back in the days of never using anyone's first names (ie Mr. Darcy, Miss Bennett, etc.) and empire waste gowns that make you look pregnant. Jane's biting social observations and superlative witty banter, not to mention an understanding of unstated sexual tension, are unmatched. Then there is of course Elizabeth Bennett herself, who is quite possibly my favorite character of all time. We all know how awesome she is, especially when it comes to fighting zombies. So suffice to say that I've read this book over and over, seen both the 5-hour BBC mini-series and the 2005 Keira Knightly version countless times, and I never get sick of the lush language and complicated characters. It inspires me to comment on the world around me and create a timeless satire of society's foibles.

2. The Princess Bride by William Goldman. As truly epic as the movie is, the book is ten times better. But what made this book so intriguing to me as a writer was the author's copious usage of completely random parenthetical phrases. (ie "This was before the invention of chocolate, but after the beheading of Mary, Queen of Scots" or whatever. Something like that.) As you have probably noticed by now, I use parentheticals like crazy. It's probably annoying, but it's how I talk and how I think, so naturally it's how I write. So if William Goldman can get away with it, so can I!

3. The Bell Jar by Sylvia Plath. It was so honest, even ugly at times, but Sylvia never backed away from sharing her experiences down the rabbit hole of depression and insanity. Her descriptions are so vivid and you almost understand the thought process of her unstable heroine/alter ego. What impressed me most too was the stream of consciousness style in which the book is written. Not only was it perfect for the content of the story and the voice of the character, but I also write this way because it feels more free to set on paper almost the exact thoughts that occur in your head.

4. How I Became a Famous Novelist by Steve Hely. I just read this recently and it figuratively rocked my world. Very rarely do I laugh out loud while reading, and this book had me cackling maniacally to the point where I'm sure my neighbors were frightened. Not only was the dry, sarcastic and at times completely outrageous humor dead on, but the book's slacker antihero learned a valuable lesson without the Full House-type moment of realization music cue. What I took away from it was the concept of voice. You can tell the same story a million different ways if you have a strong enough character with a distinctive voice that people can relate to. Seriously, read this NOW.

5. The Twilight Series by Stephenie Meyer. If she can do it and make millions, anyone can. But seriously, I learned from this that if you tap into a primal part of the human psyche (in this case the adolescent girl in all of us that loves a dangerous, brooding bad boy), it almost doesn't matter how bad the writing, characters, and story structure (or lack thereof) are. You'll still make millions. But if you have any writing talent at all, already you've surpassed Ms. Meyer. So feel good about yourself, even if you never sell a single book.

There are hundreds more books that have inspired me and helped shape the writer I (try to be) today. But I don't feel like googling all those images, and it's time for Grandma Hutch to get to bed. Cocktails + Panasian Appetizers + Girl Talk = Sleepy Hutch!

Abandoned Ship!

Yes I realize it's been about six months since I last posted and most everyone who reads this damn thing has pretty much jumped ship too. Though isn't that the point of a blog? To rant, ramble, and rave to whatever tiny audience you can muster, and then get over it when you get busy/bored/lazy?

Well I have a renewed energy to keep blogging (god I still hate that term). I have been reading my favorite blogger's archives, the Sassy Curmudgeon, who is basically the cooler, older, slightly more neurotic, more than slightly more talented, snarkier East Coast version of myself. Like me, she also hates to write, but forces herself to do it. In the process she has gained an impressive following, and a triumphant wealth of source material.

So basically, I want to be her when I grow up. And in order to grow up, I have to get off my ass (metaphorically, since I'm technically on my ass at the moment), and start writing again. Much like exercise and reading, writing is like a bipolar hobby of mine. I'm either working at it feverishly, or avoiding it altogether. This is a very bad thing since I happen to want to be a writer (again, when I grow up. which probably won't be any time soon).

But you'll be proud to know that I have actually started a novel! The first one since about fourth grade when I was convinced I was going to be a world famous authoress, like J.K. Rowling, if I had known who she was back then. So far it's going well. Eleven pages in and going strong. Though it kind of sounds like an extended blog. But if I say I did that on purpose, then hopefully people will just think it's my cool, hip style instead of a lack of standard literary skills.

The screenplay, which my partner and had working entitled "Hawaiian Goonies," has been put on the shelf for almost as long as this blog. Sadly, we have no plans to push through the last 30 pages, since we now are both fully employed and have opposite schedules. Maybe it will happen someday, but for now, I'm just happy that I got this far.

So basic update, yes baby Ayvind is adorable and awesome. He dances like a robot with a very serious face and it's pretty much the cutest thing ever. My new niece, Sadie, was born a month later. She is just starting to get cute (I'm sorry, but newborn white babies look like a cross between an alien, a frog and a crotchety old man). Unemployment sucked, but I stuck it out and eventually got a job sign twirling. Which was both hilarious and a pain in the ass. I may write more on that subject later. But now I'm back full-time at the job I had last year with the American Film Market. And tomorrow is my first real payday in a looooong time. It will be a most excellent feeling.

Anyway, sorry for the super-long and not terribly amusing blog. But I'm going to try to update a few times a week. Hopefully I'll have something worthwhile to say. If not, I'll just make stuff up. In the meantime, check out the Sassy Curmudgeon. She's pretty much the coolest person ever.

Sticky Business is Legit!

My writing team from UC Irvine has finally registered our dark comic masterpiece, "Sticky Business" with the Writers Guild of America. We kept talking about and putting it off, but Rachel, ever the leader of the group, finally got us to commit and our intellectual property is fully legal now! Unfortunately, now that it's copyrighted, we aren't really allowed to revise it. Sure this is like the fourth or fifth draft and is probably as good as it's ever going to get by semi-amateur screenwriters, but none of us has really looked at the thing in almost a year. What if it's awful? We did go a bit on the broad side with the comic Tarantino-like violence, but that's what made it so unique and fun. Hopefully someone (with money) will discover it and decide that it's worth making into a multi-million dollar feature with a stellar cast. And hopefully that cast will include some of the amazing actors who were kind enough to bring "Sticky Business" to life on stage at the UCI Screenwriting Festival where it won Best Feature Length Script. (Pats ourselves on the back). The copyright is good for five years, so we really have to get cracking on finding an agent or a producer or something to get the ball rolling here. But at least we have our momentum back! Maybe we'll have another writing session at Lee's Sandwiches followed by a trip to Yogurtland just for old time's sake.

First Paid Writing Gig

I'm finally getting paid to write! Sure, it's a pittance that will barely cover the cost of my fix-it ticket (ugh, that's a whole other nightmare). And sure it's temporary, under the table, and under someone else's name. But the point is, I'm finally getting paid to write! I'm reading scripts and writing coverage for a screenwriting competition. It's exciting because it's something I used to do for free! It's even more exciting when the only income I've been able to muster in the past 3-4 months has been from cleaning my mom's kitchen cabinets. Any writing is good practice for me, and I'm especially happy to be doing writing for the film industry in any capacity.

What you may expect here in the land of plastic multi-purpose utensils:

As you probably know, my name is Hutch and this is my first attempt at a real blog. I flirted with the blogging function on my rapidly decaying myspace page, but that was more the ramblings of a sad, pathetic college girl desperately avoiding homework at any and all costs. In this new and improved blog, you may expect the ramblings of a sad, pathetic, post-grad girl desperately avoiding...everything at any and all costs. I may even invent things for myself to avoid since it gives me such a thrill. I'm open to suggestions.

So I tried to come up with a cohesive, over-arching theme for this blog. But I seem to lack a cohesive, over-arching theme in my life, so I decided to embrace the chaos erupting in my mind and just go with a standard stream of consciousness.

The primary inspiration for Sporadic Sporkitudes is the Entertainment Weekly columns of one of my all-time heroes, Diablo Cody (cheeky stripper turned oscar-winning screenwriter of "Juno" and "United States of Tara.") She seems to write about whatever strikes her fancy, be it bad reality television, Jewish deli soup, or silver twinkie Airstream trailers. And good times are had by all. In an effort to follow in her footsteps (along with Tina Fey, Mindy Kaling, Judd Apatow, and John Hughes among other heroes), I am attempting to work on my writing skills as they are sadly deteriorating. Trying to boil down witticisms, observations, quotes by more intelligent and pithy writers into 140 characters or less has really affected my ability to complete whole paragraphs of thought.

Regarding what you may expect here in Spork-land, probably a whole lot of nothing. Posts may be few and far between or several completely unconnected posts in a single day. They will most likely postulate on one or more of the following subjects: movies, tv, books, music, food, attractive menfolk, pop culture, random bouts of nostalgia, observations of my wacky South Central surroundings, and rants about arbitrary pet peeves or how lame my life happens to be at the moment. I may occasionally veer into the world of politics (though I try to keep an open mind and see both sides of a topic), religion (Jesus Freaks be warned), education and other more heavy topics. But I will probably end up writing mostly about the simultaneous joy and despair of Raumen noodle soup.

So that wraps up my inaugural blog of Sporadic Sporkitudes! We'll see if this experiment works.