Recently I had the honor of being interview by Elizabeth Lanza at the "Record Pilot". It was my first experience with having a feature story written about me or any of my projects and I have to admit, it was pretty thrilling! I also realized that I might say the word "fun" a bit too much...
Anyway, check it out at: Interview with Julie
Showing posts with label documentary. Show all posts
Showing posts with label documentary. Show all posts
Friday, July 30, 2010
Thursday, July 22, 2010
Dating Advice
My friend Shannon, who might I mention, has her own blog HERE, recently strapped me down and made me listen to Miley Cyrus songs repeatedly until I told her my login and password for the online dating site that I'm on. And when I say she strapped me down and forced MC's music into my ears, I mean that she asked me for the information politely. Since entering the online dating world, Shannon has offered many an opinion about my choices in dudes. My dating life thus far has included being cursed out, being told a guy's sexual fantasy in sordid detail and being given poetry about a dead pet - and these all happened before I went on an actual date with any of them! I'd go to my married friend Shannon with wide-eyes and my mouth hanging open in curious wonder and she'd offer me a glass of wine and then kindly tell me that I didn't know how to pick the right guy(!). It was her wish that she perform a coup on the ruling party that was ME and become the leader of my online single existence. Perhaps she anticipated more resistance, but in all honesty, I was relieved! Fabulous, I thought! Take over! If I'm never cursed out again it won't be soon enough! And so it was that Shannon became Julie online.
The very next day I woke up to an email from her, announcing that she'd contacted the perfect man for me. She had found my destiny. She espoused how much we had in common, how cute he was and, though one cannot read tone in an email, I imagined she was typing whilst grinning and skipping. With the backing of my Ruler of Romance, I went ahead and contacted the guy that same day. I thought, you know, this might actually work. Shannon is one of my closest friends - my Clint Eastwood if you will - having been right by my side through the good, the bad, and some of the ugliest times I've ever had. She's offered advice and her opinion on all aspects of my life - why not go one step further and have her do a little matchmaking for me? I knew she was secretly writing a wedding toast for my upcoming nuptial with this perfect man. It might be safe to say that she was more excited than I was.
He never contacted me back.
After about a week, I told Shannon that I never heard from him. This time it was her coming to me, wide-eyed, with her mouth hanging open in curious wonder and me with a ready glass of wine. After all, friendship, like online dating, goes both ways.
The very next day I woke up to an email from her, announcing that she'd contacted the perfect man for me. She had found my destiny. She espoused how much we had in common, how cute he was and, though one cannot read tone in an email, I imagined she was typing whilst grinning and skipping. With the backing of my Ruler of Romance, I went ahead and contacted the guy that same day. I thought, you know, this might actually work. Shannon is one of my closest friends - my Clint Eastwood if you will - having been right by my side through the good, the bad, and some of the ugliest times I've ever had. She's offered advice and her opinion on all aspects of my life - why not go one step further and have her do a little matchmaking for me? I knew she was secretly writing a wedding toast for my upcoming nuptial with this perfect man. It might be safe to say that she was more excited than I was.
He never contacted me back.
After about a week, I told Shannon that I never heard from him. This time it was her coming to me, wide-eyed, with her mouth hanging open in curious wonder and me with a ready glass of wine. After all, friendship, like online dating, goes both ways.
Friday, May 28, 2010
That Couple Is Cheating On Me
I was part of a great foursome. And by that, I don’t mean some dirty foursome, as in swing-this-way-foursome. My ex and I had a couple that we got along with perfectly. There was no - ‘oh, the women are friends, so the husbands have to hang out’ or ‘he’s nice but man, she’s a nightmare.’ We all genuinely liked each other. Even our dogs got along. We’d go out to dinner, have game nights, movie nights, simple hang out nights and sometimes, we’d separate and do just the girls while the guys hung out.
Now our foursome is a threesome...again, not the dirty kind. The couple is like family to me and I still love hanging out with both of them and try to do it as often as possible. And while I think I’m pretty fun to hang out with, I can’t morph myself into two people (and I certainly can’t morph myself into being a dude). Naturally, my friends found another go-to couple for their game nights and such. Naturally. Yet, I find myself... jealous. Is that weird? My girlfriend and I have spoken about the breakup of my marriage often, but recently the discussion was less about my feelings regarding said breakup, or the transition to singlehood and more about what a bummer the breakup of the foursome has been. It’s really a big ol’ bummer. She concurred.
When I go on dates now, I find myself not only looking for someone that could possibly be a good fit for me, but I try to suss out whether they’d be a good fit for my friend’s husband. I want to ask... “so, um... Do you like strategy games? Are you up on technology? Could you say, have a well thought out conversation about a good graphic novel you’ve read recently? Do you even read graphic novels? And if no, would you be willing to have a go at reading one soon?”
And do I add these questions before or after the question about whether he’s okay with my dog sleeping in the bed (see previous entry if confused)?
Oy. I should just create a questionnaire. Or better yet, maybe I’ll just bring my friend’s husband and my dog on the date with me. Just get it all figured out right then and there.
Thoughts?
Now our foursome is a threesome...again, not the dirty kind. The couple is like family to me and I still love hanging out with both of them and try to do it as often as possible. And while I think I’m pretty fun to hang out with, I can’t morph myself into two people (and I certainly can’t morph myself into being a dude). Naturally, my friends found another go-to couple for their game nights and such. Naturally. Yet, I find myself... jealous. Is that weird? My girlfriend and I have spoken about the breakup of my marriage often, but recently the discussion was less about my feelings regarding said breakup, or the transition to singlehood and more about what a bummer the breakup of the foursome has been. It’s really a big ol’ bummer. She concurred.
When I go on dates now, I find myself not only looking for someone that could possibly be a good fit for me, but I try to suss out whether they’d be a good fit for my friend’s husband. I want to ask... “so, um... Do you like strategy games? Are you up on technology? Could you say, have a well thought out conversation about a good graphic novel you’ve read recently? Do you even read graphic novels? And if no, would you be willing to have a go at reading one soon?”
And do I add these questions before or after the question about whether he’s okay with my dog sleeping in the bed (see previous entry if confused)?
Oy. I should just create a questionnaire. Or better yet, maybe I’ll just bring my friend’s husband and my dog on the date with me. Just get it all figured out right then and there.
Thoughts?
Thursday, May 27, 2010
Let Sleeping Dogs Lie?
So... A little while back a very good friend of mine and I were talking about my dog (who, I should confess, runs my life). She commented that now that I’ve been thrust into singlehood, I might want to rethink where my dog gets her shut eye. Currently, her bedtime location is with me, on the bed. She’s a medium-sized mutt but once asleep, she morphs into a pile of lead bricks, making it near to impossible to move her. My friend’s thought was a logical one – now that I may have, you know, guests over (let’s just call them guests for now), I should be open to them not wanting the dog in the bed. It’s a fair assumption.
My dog came into my life as part of my old, coupled existence. My ex and I weren’t married yet, but we were on that road and so, the decision to have the dog in the bed with us, was mutual. It was a family decision. Once my ex left, I’m sure I don’t have to tell you that it was nice not to have a completely empty bed. Having another body on the mattress with me made it seem, in the beginning, much less lonely. My dog and I adjusted to my ex’s absence together – an odd team of sorts.
However, now my friends advice rings in my ears as I make my way out there in the single world. As I do with most things that are on my mind, I raised the question with another good friend. Figuring she would confirm my other friend’s advice I was hoping to get some tips on how to train the dog to sleep on her own bed. To my surprise, she had a different reaction. Though she agreed that some guests might have an issue with the sleeping arrangements, she felt that anyone who would make their way to being a guest (don’t you love a euphemism), would have to be an animal lover. That I would never be with someone who wasn’t accepting of that sort of thing.
The debate was on.
Then I wondered, how will I know whether this is true early on? Is that the kind of thing you ask someone over drinks? You know like, “Hey Mr. dude, are you the sorta guy that is accepting of a situation in which you may only be provided less than 1/4 of the bed because my dog likes to sleep horizontally in the middle of that very same bed? Oh, and I would be on the opposite 1/4 of that bed. She’ll be between us... Wait, where are you going? Are you sticking me with the bill? It was nice meeting you....”
These are the sort of scenarios that make the idea of dating so foreign to me. Of course, yes, you want to date someone who is right for you but there seems to be a lot between that first drink and right for you. Are you with me? I think both of my friends are right – and there’s the rub. There’s no one dating/relationship answer to go by. I mean, of course there are some dating do’s and don’ts, but when it comes to the details of how a person lives their life – the do’s and don’t’s get kind of muddled, don’t they?
I don’t know... What do you think... Dog in the bed, or no dog in the bed?
Wednesday, May 26, 2010
Locked in the Bathroom
Since I’ve gotten my little sky diving confession out of the way, I guess the next thing to talk about is what I’ve been doing these past nine months. Although I’ve been absent here, I’ve thought a lot about the documentary and have done some more shooting. In thinking about it, I realized that while documenting how I’m handling life’s curveballs is interesting, finding out how other people handle them is even more fascinating to me. So... Keeping that in mind I’ve spent much of my BLP shooting time interviewing other people. I talked to my sister, my brother-in-law, some friends, my parents and even some of my parents’ friends.
One interview that really stuck with me was with my mom’s best friend, Barbara. Her first husband passed away from a brain tumor when I was around 13 years old. For me, his illness and subsequent death was significant not only because they are like a second family to me, but also because it was my first real experience of life not working itself out. I remember saying to my father offhandedly when they told me about John’s illness, “Okay, but he’s gonna get better, right?” I assumed my father was going to say something along the lines of, ‘of course’ or ‘it’s going to be difficult, but yes eventually...’. You can imagine then the punch in the gut it was to hear, ‘ we don’t know.’ The air of not knowing if something was going to work out entered my atmosphere and has remained to this day.
When I talked to Barbara about that same event, it was so interesting to get her perspective on the entire experience. She’s happily married to a great man now, but at the time, she was taking care of a dying spouse while raising three teenage girls. And even though I was there, and lived through it, the thought of what that must have been like for her is mind boggling. How did she get through it? How did she manage? How did she not lock herself in the bathroom and refuse to come out? And here’s what she said:
I had diarrhea every day for a year.
I should tell you here, that Barbara is a very honest and generous person, but mostly, she’s hilarious and a lot of fun to be around. She’s not very shy when it comes to her bodily functions and so, when she answered with what could have been considered a sarcastic or glib response, I knew she was being totally serious. Her emotionally gut-wrenching experience became a physically gut-wrenching experience.
For Barbara, best laid plans turned into mourning and diarrhea. It seems that even your intestines are not safe from your life going awry.
One interview that really stuck with me was with my mom’s best friend, Barbara. Her first husband passed away from a brain tumor when I was around 13 years old. For me, his illness and subsequent death was significant not only because they are like a second family to me, but also because it was my first real experience of life not working itself out. I remember saying to my father offhandedly when they told me about John’s illness, “Okay, but he’s gonna get better, right?” I assumed my father was going to say something along the lines of, ‘of course’ or ‘it’s going to be difficult, but yes eventually...’. You can imagine then the punch in the gut it was to hear, ‘ we don’t know.’ The air of not knowing if something was going to work out entered my atmosphere and has remained to this day.
When I talked to Barbara about that same event, it was so interesting to get her perspective on the entire experience. She’s happily married to a great man now, but at the time, she was taking care of a dying spouse while raising three teenage girls. And even though I was there, and lived through it, the thought of what that must have been like for her is mind boggling. How did she get through it? How did she manage? How did she not lock herself in the bathroom and refuse to come out? And here’s what she said:
I had diarrhea every day for a year.
I should tell you here, that Barbara is a very honest and generous person, but mostly, she’s hilarious and a lot of fun to be around. She’s not very shy when it comes to her bodily functions and so, when she answered with what could have been considered a sarcastic or glib response, I knew she was being totally serious. Her emotionally gut-wrenching experience became a physically gut-wrenching experience.
For Barbara, best laid plans turned into mourning and diarrhea. It seems that even your intestines are not safe from your life going awry.
Tuesday, May 25, 2010
Jumping Into Thin Air
Holy shit!
Its been almost 9 months and NOTHING! I've completely been keyboard silent and have no excuses for it.
But here is my excuse...
I never actually went sky diving.
I know, I know! There I was making a huge big bold promise to throw myself out of an airplane but instead, the furthest I've jumped these last few months was when a mouse graced me with its presence in my friend's living room. In total honesty, I was embarrassed. Then, as you do with most embarrassing things in your life - I shut it out of my head completely.
Then something happened. I met a lovely woman. The stellar and prolific novelist/screenwriter/songwriter Gwen Davis, introduced me to Melissa Braverman. Melissa is the creator and writer for the blog (and adventure), singlegalnyc.com. If you haven't read it - I highly recommend you do so. Talking with her about the experiences she's had in speaking with other women across America about being single, was nothing short of inspiring. That's when I realized that it was time to come clean.
I never actually went sky diving.
There, I said it again.
You should know that I was fully intending on doing it. It wasn't for fear of jumping out of the airplane. In truth I don't know what it was. At the time, some personal issues and some financial issues collided into a perfect storm of stress and anxiety. I think I was constantly feeling as if I was already jumping out of a plane metaphorically, so I didn't feel the need to be doing it physically. Sadly, I have no better excuse than that.
Its made me wonder about the promises we make (and break) to ourselves. I was speaking with a friend of mine about the bookInto Thin Air and how each of us would feel if our partners felt it was their lifelong dream to climb Everest. It's a hard one for me to imagine without being in the actual situation, but I wonder how I'd feel about someone not fulfilling their own self-promises. It's so easy to list the things that get in the way - and often the list includes perfectly sound and reasonable reasons. And often, the other side of the coin is a much shorter list - containing perhaps only one reason: because you promised yourself you would.
I hope one day that I will jump out of an airplane.
Its been almost 9 months and NOTHING! I've completely been keyboard silent and have no excuses for it.
But here is my excuse...
I never actually went sky diving.
I know, I know! There I was making a huge big bold promise to throw myself out of an airplane but instead, the furthest I've jumped these last few months was when a mouse graced me with its presence in my friend's living room. In total honesty, I was embarrassed. Then, as you do with most embarrassing things in your life - I shut it out of my head completely.
Then something happened. I met a lovely woman. The stellar and prolific novelist/screenwriter/songwriter Gwen Davis, introduced me to Melissa Braverman. Melissa is the creator and writer for the blog (and adventure), singlegalnyc.com. If you haven't read it - I highly recommend you do so. Talking with her about the experiences she's had in speaking with other women across America about being single, was nothing short of inspiring. That's when I realized that it was time to come clean.
I never actually went sky diving.
There, I said it again.
You should know that I was fully intending on doing it. It wasn't for fear of jumping out of the airplane. In truth I don't know what it was. At the time, some personal issues and some financial issues collided into a perfect storm of stress and anxiety. I think I was constantly feeling as if I was already jumping out of a plane metaphorically, so I didn't feel the need to be doing it physically. Sadly, I have no better excuse than that.
Its made me wonder about the promises we make (and break) to ourselves. I was speaking with a friend of mine about the book
I hope one day that I will jump out of an airplane.
Monday, August 17, 2009
What's Next?
So... now that Milestone is finished and being put out into the world, now that I've been to Africa to volunteer as I always dreamed about... now that I visited an old friend in Hibernia, I am left with figuring out how to close ye ol' documentary. Do I simply say my equivalent of "good night and good luck" and move on? Do I end things in a more shock value way by say - mooning the audience? Throw a party? Run naked through the streets? There are just so many options...
But in thinking about it - this documentary is not about exposing an issue. It's not about illuminating a cause that had previously gone unnoticed. This is about what you do when your life takes a turn that you hadn't planned on. Hopefully many people can relate to the idea and, I'll admit, on my best days I hope someone somewhere sees the documentary and feels a little better. But I know that this isn't a story that is going to save the world. Believe me, I totally get that. So, if it's not a story that gives out ideas and arguments and then backs up said arguments with interviews and what-not and then ends, then how does the story culminate? How do you finish a storyline - when - in actuality my story isn't (unless a piano drops on my head) finishing? I'm closing one chapter and diving into a new one. So what is it that would send that message? And frankly, I don't think mooning people sends that message. What then?
SKY DIVING!
Nothing says throwing yourself into what's to come like jumping out of a moving plane! Throw caution (along with your body) to the wind!
That's it! That's next!
Holy shit!
But in thinking about it - this documentary is not about exposing an issue. It's not about illuminating a cause that had previously gone unnoticed. This is about what you do when your life takes a turn that you hadn't planned on. Hopefully many people can relate to the idea and, I'll admit, on my best days I hope someone somewhere sees the documentary and feels a little better. But I know that this isn't a story that is going to save the world. Believe me, I totally get that. So, if it's not a story that gives out ideas and arguments and then backs up said arguments with interviews and what-not and then ends, then how does the story culminate? How do you finish a storyline - when - in actuality my story isn't (unless a piano drops on my head) finishing? I'm closing one chapter and diving into a new one. So what is it that would send that message? And frankly, I don't think mooning people sends that message. What then?
SKY DIVING!
Nothing says throwing yourself into what's to come like jumping out of a moving plane! Throw caution (along with your body) to the wind!
That's it! That's next!
Holy shit!
Thursday, August 6, 2009
Milestone is DONE done!
Milestone is finished! The dvd has been burned, duplicated and put into fancy cases with artwork and everything! And to all of that I say... Phew!
Now we're onto the film festival world! I feel like I'm back applying to college again... will they like me? Will I fit in? Will I like my roommate (okay, maybe not so much that one, but the others definitely still apply). It's so hard to know what is going to excite someone about a short film - other than it not being awful. Granted I've been to a number of film festivals, but to tell you the truth, there's never really seemed to be any rhyme or reason to the films that were chosen. Sometimes they'll put the films into themes: like comedies, thrillers, experimental etc., but other than that, there was always a broad range in production value, story content and length.
So where will Milestone be seen? Who knows? But I can't wait to find out!
Thanks to everyone involved!
-jules
Now we're onto the film festival world! I feel like I'm back applying to college again... will they like me? Will I fit in? Will I like my roommate (okay, maybe not so much that one, but the others definitely still apply). It's so hard to know what is going to excite someone about a short film - other than it not being awful. Granted I've been to a number of film festivals, but to tell you the truth, there's never really seemed to be any rhyme or reason to the films that were chosen. Sometimes they'll put the films into themes: like comedies, thrillers, experimental etc., but other than that, there was always a broad range in production value, story content and length.
So where will Milestone be seen? Who knows? But I can't wait to find out!
Thanks to everyone involved!
-jules
Wednesday, July 15, 2009
Milestone in Post Production
The short film I wrote and directed, titled, Milestone is very close to being finished. Alicia is furiously editing it and Banana Whale is providing the music, and there’s color correction happening, and foley being added...all sorts of fabulous post-production things are occurring. So, that means it will soon be reaching its finished line; which is thrilling for me!
I’ve been getting asked a lot about what the experience of directing was like and usually I respond with very short answers like ‘I liked it,’ or ‘I learned a lot’, or some sort of something that was positive but general and allowed the person to get on with their life. Lately however, while sitting with Alicia and going through the fine tuning process I’ve realized something... The biggest thing I’ve learned about directing is that the number 1 thing you need to do is surround yourself with people who are both honest and smarter than you. It can be hard to see the forest for the trees when you are listening to your own words and watching performances that you’ve directed. As I expected, there were moments that I would’ve done differently if I had to do it over again and there were lines that, once they moved from the page to the screen were no longer necessary. While I, on my own, could’ve sussed some of these things out, the fact that I had Alicia sitting there with me, offering her thoughts and concerns helped immensely. With her editor’s eye she was able to not only offer suggestions, but was actually able to put those suggestions into the video so I could see them in action. That was amazingly helpful!
So... to all of you newbie directors out there like me... do not operate as a one person show – surround yourself with people that think like you – only better, faster and smarter. You’ll thank me later!
Monday, July 6, 2009
Best Laid Plans Where You Live
So... I realize that I haven’t written in awhile. I wish I could say that I’ve had a good excuse, but alas, I have nothing to offer you other than being in the midst of some things that made it difficult to take a step back and assess. In short, I’ve been avoiding you. That’s right people... I have been avoiding a blog! But hear we are – almost a year since I left for Ghana.
But I have news... First – check out the cool logo for the film that Melissa Jernigan at OTL created for me! I think she did a great job and am grateful to her for her patience in my not knowing what sort of graphic best summarized the project. Big thanks to her!
Second, while I, again, cannot really get into some of the details of what’s occurred in my situation I will say this. It is a SMALL world out there in a very big way. People talk about how huge NYC is, but truly, NY’ers (at least my friends have agreed with this), often stick to their small neighborhood most of the time. You create your own little safe haven in the midst of the city’s noisy chaos. Certainly for me, I’ve had to work at creating a whole new existence in my own neighborhood. Since it’s the same place that I moved into as a married person, all of my beginning memories of living there were associated with that identity. And then breakups happen and you find out how amazing it is that the simplest things trigger monumental emotional recollections – such as walking your dog, or going to certain restaurants. In the beginning of this process, your neighborhood is like a dysfunctional home that feels both safe and like its inundated with land mines. But then, the more things you do on your own, the more territory you take back and fill with new happenings, the more the “safety” scale tips in your direction. It’s your home again.
Neighborhood, by definition (I even looked this up), means “an area surrounding a particular place, person or object”.
Perhaps that’s why then, while chillaxing around my neighborhood with my dog, I was pretty jarred by seeing my past hanging out with his future only blocks from where we lived. Life winked at me in the form of a very jarring reminder that people don’t operate under the same rules. Perhaps nobody is right or wrong, but you learn quickly that the feeling of safety that you’ve built is shaky. If you assume that people have the same life rules that you do, and you create your world with that assumption in mind, you can, like me, be pummeled by the fact that that is wrong, wrong, wrong! So here I am again, learning something new. I’m growing people! If only the emotional growth could expand to my actual physical growth I’d be smiling from ear to ear! Looking back, there’s been so much disappointment this year – so many surprises that I wasn’t at all prepared for or deserved. There were things that I was so sure of a year ago but now realize I was completely wrong. But I’m not in charge of any of those things. Sometimes I can’t help but let the disappointment wash over me and follow me around, but other times, I’ve realized that what I can also do is simply focus on the things I am in control of and surround myself with people who operate under similar life rules as my own. And maybe that’s not a best laid plan, but it’s the best I’ve got right now.
Tuesday, May 26, 2009
Best Laid Vacations
What do you do when you are given terrible news? Not, tragic news, as in someone dying unexpectedly (or dying at all for that matter), but news that is so upsetting you start hysterically laughing? Or news that you should’ve heard ages ago, but you find out that you’re one of the last to know? Recently, I discovered the answer to these questions and found that for me, I needed to go away. Far away. Life is always cause and effect, right? You’re always acting on something and suffering or celebrating in the consequences. And when they are your decisions; when they are your actions, you can (and should) own it – good or bad. You can say, ‘well, this was my choice and so, I own the outcome.’ However, when something happens outside of your purview but grossly affects your world and your view of it, it’s jarring to say the least.
I needed to go away. I needed to be with someone that I knew cared about me and felt some semblance of loyalty to me. I also needed some time to be by myself. That said, I don’t want to give the impression that my friends here are disloyal because that would be a huge misrepresentation. Although, it’s true that, along the way this year, I have lost many number of people through my change in circumstances, I have also discovered that I have some incredible, devoted (and hilarious) people surrounding me. For that, I am more than grateful. But, they are here and I needed to go away.
I have a friend in Ireland. I met him many years ago in an acting program and we’ve stayed in touch ever since. He’s lent me his ear this year as I blathered on about everything and so I thought, who better to see and where better to go than to Ireland to visit Brendan? A successful actor in Ireland, I was lucky in that he had a week off to take me around to his favorite spots and introduce me to some of the people in his life. I got to rediscover an old friend that I hadn’t seen in ages while I took in some sites I’d never seen before. The freshness of it was grand. Amazingly, I (who normally can’t function on less than 8 hours of sleep) barely suffered from jet lag. I think my body was just longing for the change. So, am I still trying to tackle making sense of news that I didn’t see coming? Yes. But somehow, sitting at your friend’s kitchen table as he makes you a fabulous breakfast and tries out his American accent on you is a treasure. Somehow it makes your own small world make a tiny bit more sense.
And you discover that seven days fly faster than a light sneeze.
What do you do when you are given terrible news? Not, tragic news, as in someone dying unexpectedly (or dying at all for that matter), but news that is so upsetting you start hysterically laughing? Or news that you should’ve heard ages ago, but you find out that you’re one of the last to know? Recently, I discovered the answer to these questions and found that for me, I needed to go away. Far away. Life is always cause and effect, right? You’re always acting on something and suffering or celebrating in the consequences. And when they are your decisions; when they are your actions, you can (and should) own it – good or bad. You can say, ‘well, this was my choice and so, I own the outcome.’ However, when something happens outside of your purview but grossly affects your world and your view of it, it’s jarring to say the least.
I needed to go away. I needed to be with someone that I knew cared about me and felt some semblance of loyalty to me. I also needed some time to be by myself. That said, I don’t want to give the impression that my friends here are disloyal because that would be a huge misrepresentation. Although, it’s true that, along the way this year, I have lost many number of people through my change in circumstances, I have also discovered that I have some incredible, devoted (and hilarious) people surrounding me. For that, I am more than grateful. But, they are here and I needed to go away.
I have a friend in Ireland. I met him many years ago in an acting program and we’ve stayed in touch ever since. He’s lent me his ear this year as I blathered on about everything and so I thought, who better to see and where better to go than to Ireland to visit Brendan? A successful actor in Ireland, I was lucky in that he had a week off to take me around to his favorite spots and introduce me to some of the people in his life. I got to rediscover an old friend that I hadn’t seen in ages while I took in some sites I’d never seen before. The freshness of it was grand. Amazingly, I (who normally can’t function on less than 8 hours of sleep) barely suffered from jet lag. I think my body was just longing for the change. So, am I still trying to tackle making sense of news that I didn’t see coming? Yes. But somehow, sitting at your friend’s kitchen table as he makes you a fabulous breakfast and tries out his American accent on you is a treasure. Somehow it makes your own small world make a tiny bit more sense.
And you discover that seven days fly faster than a light sneeze.
I needed to go away. I needed to be with someone that I knew cared about me and felt some semblance of loyalty to me. I also needed some time to be by myself. That said, I don’t want to give the impression that my friends here are disloyal because that would be a huge misrepresentation. Although, it’s true that, along the way this year, I have lost many number of people through my change in circumstances, I have also discovered that I have some incredible, devoted (and hilarious) people surrounding me. For that, I am more than grateful. But, they are here and I needed to go away.
I have a friend in Ireland. I met him many years ago in an acting program and we’ve stayed in touch ever since. He’s lent me his ear this year as I blathered on about everything and so I thought, who better to see and where better to go than to Ireland to visit Brendan? A successful actor in Ireland, I was lucky in that he had a week off to take me around to his favorite spots and introduce me to some of the people in his life. I got to rediscover an old friend that I hadn’t seen in ages while I took in some sites I’d never seen before. The freshness of it was grand. Amazingly, I (who normally can’t function on less than 8 hours of sleep) barely suffered from jet lag. I think my body was just longing for the change. So, am I still trying to tackle making sense of news that I didn’t see coming? Yes. But somehow, sitting at your friend’s kitchen table as he makes you a fabulous breakfast and tries out his American accent on you is a treasure. Somehow it makes your own small world make a tiny bit more sense.
And you discover that seven days fly faster than a light sneeze.
What do you do when you are given terrible news? Not, tragic news, as in someone dying unexpectedly (or dying at all for that matter), but news that is so upsetting you start hysterically laughing? Or news that you should’ve heard ages ago, but you find out that you’re one of the last to know? Recently, I discovered the answer to these questions and found that for me, I needed to go away. Far away. Life is always cause and effect, right? You’re always acting on something and suffering or celebrating in the consequences. And when they are your decisions; when they are your actions, you can (and should) own it – good or bad. You can say, ‘well, this was my choice and so, I own the outcome.’ However, when something happens outside of your purview but grossly affects your world and your view of it, it’s jarring to say the least.
I needed to go away. I needed to be with someone that I knew cared about me and felt some semblance of loyalty to me. I also needed some time to be by myself. That said, I don’t want to give the impression that my friends here are disloyal because that would be a huge misrepresentation. Although, it’s true that, along the way this year, I have lost many number of people through my change in circumstances, I have also discovered that I have some incredible, devoted (and hilarious) people surrounding me. For that, I am more than grateful. But, they are here and I needed to go away.
I have a friend in Ireland. I met him many years ago in an acting program and we’ve stayed in touch ever since. He’s lent me his ear this year as I blathered on about everything and so I thought, who better to see and where better to go than to Ireland to visit Brendan? A successful actor in Ireland, I was lucky in that he had a week off to take me around to his favorite spots and introduce me to some of the people in his life. I got to rediscover an old friend that I hadn’t seen in ages while I took in some sites I’d never seen before. The freshness of it was grand. Amazingly, I (who normally can’t function on less than 8 hours of sleep) barely suffered from jet lag. I think my body was just longing for the change. So, am I still trying to tackle making sense of news that I didn’t see coming? Yes. But somehow, sitting at your friend’s kitchen table as he makes you a fabulous breakfast and tries out his American accent on you is a treasure. Somehow it makes your own small world make a tiny bit more sense.
And you discover that seven days fly faster than a light sneeze.
Thursday, April 16, 2009
Best Laid Plans: Milestone
How about this order at a drive-thru window: I'd like a male prostitute between the ages of 25 and 30, with a great body and more specifically, a six-pack; who is not a street thug, but more like a sensitive, high-priced escort who can give you the best sex you've ever had? And can I have fries with that?
When one writes a short film that includes a man with a six-pack, it means that when the director has to cast said man, they have to ensure that said actor has said six-pack. Needless to say, I had girlfriends offering to volunteer for the casting session to help me make such a difficult decision.
I've helped On the Leesh cast stuff before but, while we may have been seeking actors with a certain look, we've never had such a specific body requirement as this story called for; and I was never the director. So beyond making sure that they had the physical requirements of the role, I had to make sure that they were also able to make the emotional connection to the part.
Obviously, I'm usually on the side of the actor. Going into auditions and getting notes from the director and/or casting director and trying to suss out what they wanted. With me on the other side of the table, I wanted to make sure that I was clear in what I said; that my notes made sense. That I wasn't putting any actors in the confused position I've occasionally found myself in when getting a note. I was incredibly nervous, actually. I wanted an actor that came in and seemed to be in the same ballpark as how I'd heard the role in my head, but was also able to change it up if necessary. And I knew that I needed to give myself room for error, so I also wanted an actor who would be able to bring their own ideas to the table as well. And I needed the actor to work for no pay.
Hmmmmm... tall order.
Half-way through the auditions, in walked Brian Patacca, an actor On the Leesh knows quite well since he's a regular on one of our webseries, The In-Betweens of Holly Malone. He had seen the ad for the audition and asked if he could read for the role of Billy. Now, just to be clear, we saw a lot of guys that day. We were sent A LOT of headshots. Apparently, there is an abundant amount of six-pack-having male actors in NYC. Who knew? So we saw a number of guys who gave great auditions, but Brian walked in and nailed it. For me, it was like the directing gods were giving a little gift to the newbie. He made me interested in the character in a new way. We called him that night and he accepted the role.
We had our Billy. We were half-way there in this two-person story.
All that's left was finding Denise...
Wednesday, April 8, 2009
Best Laid Plans - Introducing Milestone (Part 19)
Like most adventures, coming home from Ghana felt a little... Well... Anticlimatic. I had an amazing time but needless to say the week flew by and it seemed suddenly Joe and I were back on the plane (where we were sanitized) and heading home. Once we got back, I gave everyone their gifts and then Joe left the project and I was left with this footage thinking – what do I do now? Things didn’t feel over. It seemed like it was part of a larger story. What is this life I’m leading now? What does it look like? The trip to Africa felt like just a part of it rather than the total IT. Everyone around me was either very seriously attached, married and/or starting a family of their own. I couldn’t see my life in theirs anymore and Africa didn’t change any of that (of course). It’s not that I necessarily expected it to, but after it was over I felt like it was more of an inauguraul entry into a new life rather than the culmination of something. Like it or not, my life isn’t going to be filled with coming home to a husband or partner. It’s not about sleepless nights with a crying baby. So what is it? The question again comes back to – what is my Plan B?
The answer is: Adventure.
A couple of months back from Ghana, I had an idea. A short comedy about a woman who’s friends go to extreme measures to help her get over her husband leaving. It was about 10 pages long and just launched out of me onto the page. When it was finished, I gave it to Alicia to see what she thought. The next thing I know, we’re talking about adding it to the On the Leesh roster of projects and she’s asking me if I have any interest in directing. Me, direct? I’ve never directed a film before. I always looked at having someone else direct my words as it being a safety net for the script. Writer/directors don’t always have the ability to see the forest for the trees when something isn’t working – and I greatly feared that. But isn’t that what this year is about – doing things I fear?
Suddenly, part 2 of my story was becoming clear.
Here we go... I was going to direct a film! And so... I introduce you to “Milestone”.
The answer is: Adventure.
A couple of months back from Ghana, I had an idea. A short comedy about a woman who’s friends go to extreme measures to help her get over her husband leaving. It was about 10 pages long and just launched out of me onto the page. When it was finished, I gave it to Alicia to see what she thought. The next thing I know, we’re talking about adding it to the On the Leesh roster of projects and she’s asking me if I have any interest in directing. Me, direct? I’ve never directed a film before. I always looked at having someone else direct my words as it being a safety net for the script. Writer/directors don’t always have the ability to see the forest for the trees when something isn’t working – and I greatly feared that. But isn’t that what this year is about – doing things I fear?
Suddenly, part 2 of my story was becoming clear.
Here we go... I was going to direct a film! And so... I introduce you to “Milestone”.
Friday, March 27, 2009
Best Laid Plans (Part 17)
What would you ask of a voodoo priest? (Part 1)
Before going to Ghana, I found out about the history of the practice of voodoo in the country. Although today, the majority of the population of Ghana is Christian, there are a number of Ghanaians that still practice Voodoo. Robert, one of our guides told me that sometimes, if something happens to someone – say something of theirs was stolen, they'll go to a Voodoo Priest to find out who did it and to exact punishment. Both Richard and Robert explained that voodoo is not all negative though – that it’s not about hurting people, but rather about empowering yourself.
My personal experience with this practice stops at those kitschy voodoo dolls that a person can buy at a gift shop. And I’ve never thought of myself as particularly superstitious – though I do often find myself knocking on wood, and if someone asks me if I’ve seen a roach in my apartment I find I’m afraid to answer so that I don’t ‘tempt fate,’ so-to-speak. But beyond that, I walk on cracks in the sidewalk (is this why I trip so much?), I don’t throw salt over my shoulder (though to be honest, that might be because I know I have terrible aim) and I don’t think that when my ears ring it means that someone is thinking about me (or whatever significance that's supposed to hold). However, who am I to say that there isn’t magic out there? People spend their lifetime studying mysticism and voodoo and little ol’ me is certainly in no position to discredit anyone’s belief system. I choose not to question it not only because I am in no position to, but also because, to put it plainly, I would be terrified to piss a practitioner of voodoo off. So, although there was some part of me that feared the unknown, I was also on a mission to experience things in spite of my fear. Therefore, when Richard offered to take me to a voodoo village just beyond our work site, I found myself agreeing without reservation.
I was going to a Voodoo Village!
It was our final day of work and after lunch, Richard and Robert told the group that I had wanted to visit the village and offered to take anyone else who wanted to go. Turns out, everyone was just as curious as I was. So off we all went into the woods. We crossed the very stream that the villagers use to do their laundry and pick up their water and headed into the tall grass. My group was told more about the settlement. It was a healing community that was built for people to stay for the duration of their illness. It seemed that the only people who lived their full-time were the Voodoo Priest and his assistant. This news made me even more curious about what I’d find there. Would there be rows of cots with people extremely ill? Along with the priest, would there be a doctor there as well as a nurse? What types of illnesses did most of the people have? Malaria? Cancer? How did voodoo come into play with a person's sickness.
As we continued walking through the forest, both Richard and Robert told me that I should tell the priest why I was in Ghana. That I should talk to him about my divorce so that he could help me. Hmmmm...
Grateful for the offer, I explained to them that, while I was devastated at the abrupt demise of my marriage, I didn’t want to go back to New York and hear that my husband’s penis randomly detached from the rest of his body (or something along those lines). Again they promised that the priest’s focus would be on helping me, but I still declined.
The dirt pathway in the woods led to an opening, which led to... A Voodoo Shrine. Robert, a believer in much of the religion, turned to me and said quietly, “don’t touch anything.” I absorbed this warning with very wide eyes and an open mouth. Quickly, I turned to Joe who was filming the figure and chided, “don’t you touch anything!” He looked at me like a kid who was wrongly accused of bad behavior by their mother. Granted, he wasn’t touching anything but I didn’t want to take any chances. The shrine was a face with its tongue out. By face, I don’t mean to suggest that it was a statue of someone being silly and jutting their tongue out because trust me, it was nothing like that. It definitely had a more serious tone to it. Adding to that heaviness were objects that I guessed were offerings.
After taking in the shrine, I headed into the village...
Before going to Ghana, I found out about the history of the practice of voodoo in the country. Although today, the majority of the population of Ghana is Christian, there are a number of Ghanaians that still practice Voodoo. Robert, one of our guides told me that sometimes, if something happens to someone – say something of theirs was stolen, they'll go to a Voodoo Priest to find out who did it and to exact punishment. Both Richard and Robert explained that voodoo is not all negative though – that it’s not about hurting people, but rather about empowering yourself.
My personal experience with this practice stops at those kitschy voodoo dolls that a person can buy at a gift shop. And I’ve never thought of myself as particularly superstitious – though I do often find myself knocking on wood, and if someone asks me if I’ve seen a roach in my apartment I find I’m afraid to answer so that I don’t ‘tempt fate,’ so-to-speak. But beyond that, I walk on cracks in the sidewalk (is this why I trip so much?), I don’t throw salt over my shoulder (though to be honest, that might be because I know I have terrible aim) and I don’t think that when my ears ring it means that someone is thinking about me (or whatever significance that's supposed to hold). However, who am I to say that there isn’t magic out there? People spend their lifetime studying mysticism and voodoo and little ol’ me is certainly in no position to discredit anyone’s belief system. I choose not to question it not only because I am in no position to, but also because, to put it plainly, I would be terrified to piss a practitioner of voodoo off. So, although there was some part of me that feared the unknown, I was also on a mission to experience things in spite of my fear. Therefore, when Richard offered to take me to a voodoo village just beyond our work site, I found myself agreeing without reservation.
I was going to a Voodoo Village!
It was our final day of work and after lunch, Richard and Robert told the group that I had wanted to visit the village and offered to take anyone else who wanted to go. Turns out, everyone was just as curious as I was. So off we all went into the woods. We crossed the very stream that the villagers use to do their laundry and pick up their water and headed into the tall grass. My group was told more about the settlement. It was a healing community that was built for people to stay for the duration of their illness. It seemed that the only people who lived their full-time were the Voodoo Priest and his assistant. This news made me even more curious about what I’d find there. Would there be rows of cots with people extremely ill? Along with the priest, would there be a doctor there as well as a nurse? What types of illnesses did most of the people have? Malaria? Cancer? How did voodoo come into play with a person's sickness.
As we continued walking through the forest, both Richard and Robert told me that I should tell the priest why I was in Ghana. That I should talk to him about my divorce so that he could help me. Hmmmm...
Grateful for the offer, I explained to them that, while I was devastated at the abrupt demise of my marriage, I didn’t want to go back to New York and hear that my husband’s penis randomly detached from the rest of his body (or something along those lines). Again they promised that the priest’s focus would be on helping me, but I still declined.
The dirt pathway in the woods led to an opening, which led to... A Voodoo Shrine. Robert, a believer in much of the religion, turned to me and said quietly, “don’t touch anything.” I absorbed this warning with very wide eyes and an open mouth. Quickly, I turned to Joe who was filming the figure and chided, “don’t you touch anything!” He looked at me like a kid who was wrongly accused of bad behavior by their mother. Granted, he wasn’t touching anything but I didn’t want to take any chances. The shrine was a face with its tongue out. By face, I don’t mean to suggest that it was a statue of someone being silly and jutting their tongue out because trust me, it was nothing like that. It definitely had a more serious tone to it. Adding to that heaviness were objects that I guessed were offerings.
After taking in the shrine, I headed into the village...
Tuesday, January 6, 2009
Best Laid Plans (Part 14)
After the long journey from Accra to Ho, our van pulled into a long dirt driveway. A small, unassuming bar stood at the corner of the road. We’d all come to know this bar as the place to relax on a break or as a way to end the evening. Further on down the drive, there was a large concrete building that was well built and looked rather new. This was to be our home. All of us expressed surprise at the accommodations and I’ll admit that I was glad it wasn’t just me who had anticipated a much more ad hoc dwelling. Each room had two single beds and their own bathroom with... wait for it... flushing European-style toilets! We were told that there wasn’t anything but cold water to be had, but frankly, we’d all assumed that was going to be the case so that was no surprise. But finding out that I had a nice place to put my tushy when nature called felt like a gift from heaven. The place felt almost decadent!
After getting set up in the rooms, Richard picked us up and took us to his place in Ho. There we met his friend and partner, Robert. Robert and Richard – along with working with Globe Aware - had started their own nonprofit called DIVOG (Disaster Volunteers of Ghana). Their group does similar work to Globe Aware and Richard and Robert often host the DIVOG volunteers in their own home. At the time I was there, Robert had given one bedroom of his two bedroom home to two volunteers from Spain while, him, his wife, their children and another family member all stayed in the other room. Their dedication was extraordinary and their energy unbelievable.
After we all settled into his living room, Richard (finally) explained how we’d be spending our week! Every day, we’d be driving about 40 minutes outside of Ho to a small village called Tsyome-Afedo.
Our assignment was to help build a computer center in the village. The project had been started by past groups, but needed a lot more additional work before it was ready. So there it was – a fear realized - I was told I’d be doing construction work. I’d be building something that people were expected to be able to USE. Not only were people going to need to use the building, but they’d also be storing expensive computer equipment between the four walls that I, a lady who often has others change her light bulbs, would be helping to build. In a faraway place, I could hear laughter... I believe it was the ‘get-off-your-ass-and-do-something-gods’ challenging me to, well, get off of my ass.
As would often happen throughout the project, my trepidation brought a big smile to Joe’s face.
Did I remember to bring band-aids?
After getting set up in the rooms, Richard picked us up and took us to his place in Ho. There we met his friend and partner, Robert. Robert and Richard – along with working with Globe Aware - had started their own nonprofit called DIVOG (Disaster Volunteers of Ghana). Their group does similar work to Globe Aware and Richard and Robert often host the DIVOG volunteers in their own home. At the time I was there, Robert had given one bedroom of his two bedroom home to two volunteers from Spain while, him, his wife, their children and another family member all stayed in the other room. Their dedication was extraordinary and their energy unbelievable.
After we all settled into his living room, Richard (finally) explained how we’d be spending our week! Every day, we’d be driving about 40 minutes outside of Ho to a small village called Tsyome-Afedo.
Our assignment was to help build a computer center in the village. The project had been started by past groups, but needed a lot more additional work before it was ready. So there it was – a fear realized - I was told I’d be doing construction work. I’d be building something that people were expected to be able to USE. Not only were people going to need to use the building, but they’d also be storing expensive computer equipment between the four walls that I, a lady who often has others change her light bulbs, would be helping to build. In a faraway place, I could hear laughter... I believe it was the ‘get-off-your-ass-and-do-something-gods’ challenging me to, well, get off of my ass.
As would often happen throughout the project, my trepidation brought a big smile to Joe’s face.
Did I remember to bring band-aids?
Friday, December 12, 2008
On Our Way!
With the recommended dosage of Immodium in my belly, Joe and I got in a cab and journeyed on to our Globe Aware meeting point. In the cab, I was amazed by all of the people on the street selling goods – everything from hairbrushes to snacks. When the cab stopped at a red light, the car was quickly surrounded by people selling their goods/products. Beautifully balancing their items on their head, they’d try to sell their goods to anyone willing. Although it took some time to get used to being surrounded by people whenever the car came to a halt, neither Joe or I felt accosted or anything like that. In some ways, one can see how practical this commerce system is. I think of it as their version of the drive-thru. I wonder though, if the practicality goes both ways. For the driver, it is a very convenient system, but is that true for the seller, stuck outside in the rain and trying to get interest in their sliced fruit? I don’t know.
Our cab driver took us to the Pink Hostel in a different neighborhood in Accra. Again, the lack of familiar addresses made it difficult to ask to go somewhere, but our driver got us their quickly and with ease. Joe and I were the first to arrive at the meeting spot. The small mini-van was waiting, but none of the participants, nor the head of the Globe Aware program in Ghana, Richard, were there. We were told Richard had gone to pick up some of the participants and was on his way back.
The quiet, serene street was in opposition to my mounting excitement. I wanted to be on our way. I wanted to see the Volta region – where we were staying, who we’d be working with, what we’d be doing. Not long after we’d arrived, a cab pulled up and out came a man with a backpack. This was Scott. Not on the original list of participants, Scott, in a constant state of wanderlust, had decided to come at the last minute. In just a few minutes of conversation, I discovered that he’d been to many, many places in the world for work and for recreation. I was immediately envious. What would life be like spending 6 months here, 6 months there? Nervously, I told Scott the project that I was embarking on. Quickly he agreed to be a part of it and said he didn’t mind being filmed. Whew! One down!
A short while after Scott arrived, another cab pulled up and out came Richard – greeting Joe and I with a warm hug and kind eyes. Also exiting the cab were Jodee, Wayne and their son, Wyatt. A family filled with energy and wrapped in bug-sprayed bandannas, they loquaciously described the problems they encountered in getting to Accra. How they were stuck in Nigeria for a time, how Wyatt had gotten sick on the journey and how they didn’t know if they were going to get to the meeting place on time. Joe and I then explained our project and all 3 seemed excited by the prospect.
Richard interrupted our conversation to explain that we were still waiting for two more participants – a writer, George, and his son Eamon. George was delayed at a jewlers, so Richard said it would be easier to pick him up there.
We packed the van and then crowded in. Joe and I sat in the back and observed everyone else. A short drive later, we arrived at the meeting place to pick George and his son up. With two more in tow, we smushed into the now, very tightly packed van and began our journey to the Volta Region.
I had to steal myself thinking about how amazing it was that this was happening. Joe and I had our press passes, Richard had had a long talk with a representative at the Ministry of Information’s Office and cleared our trip and all but George and Eamon had agreed to be on film.
I was in Africa. I was in Ghana. This was happening.
Our cab driver took us to the Pink Hostel in a different neighborhood in Accra. Again, the lack of familiar addresses made it difficult to ask to go somewhere, but our driver got us their quickly and with ease. Joe and I were the first to arrive at the meeting spot. The small mini-van was waiting, but none of the participants, nor the head of the Globe Aware program in Ghana, Richard, were there. We were told Richard had gone to pick up some of the participants and was on his way back.
The quiet, serene street was in opposition to my mounting excitement. I wanted to be on our way. I wanted to see the Volta region – where we were staying, who we’d be working with, what we’d be doing. Not long after we’d arrived, a cab pulled up and out came a man with a backpack. This was Scott. Not on the original list of participants, Scott, in a constant state of wanderlust, had decided to come at the last minute. In just a few minutes of conversation, I discovered that he’d been to many, many places in the world for work and for recreation. I was immediately envious. What would life be like spending 6 months here, 6 months there? Nervously, I told Scott the project that I was embarking on. Quickly he agreed to be a part of it and said he didn’t mind being filmed. Whew! One down!
A short while after Scott arrived, another cab pulled up and out came Richard – greeting Joe and I with a warm hug and kind eyes. Also exiting the cab were Jodee, Wayne and their son, Wyatt. A family filled with energy and wrapped in bug-sprayed bandannas, they loquaciously described the problems they encountered in getting to Accra. How they were stuck in Nigeria for a time, how Wyatt had gotten sick on the journey and how they didn’t know if they were going to get to the meeting place on time. Joe and I then explained our project and all 3 seemed excited by the prospect.
Richard interrupted our conversation to explain that we were still waiting for two more participants – a writer, George, and his son Eamon. George was delayed at a jewlers, so Richard said it would be easier to pick him up there.
We packed the van and then crowded in. Joe and I sat in the back and observed everyone else. A short drive later, we arrived at the meeting place to pick George and his son up. With two more in tow, we smushed into the now, very tightly packed van and began our journey to the Volta Region.
I had to steal myself thinking about how amazing it was that this was happening. Joe and I had our press passes, Richard had had a long talk with a representative at the Ministry of Information’s Office and cleared our trip and all but George and Eamon had agreed to be on film.
I was in Africa. I was in Ghana. This was happening.
Wednesday, December 3, 2008
Globe Aware Begins
[note: once again my apologies for the lateness of this next installment... work has been crazy but it's been all good things!]
Finally! Globe Aware’s official start day arrives! I woke up with such anticipation for the days to come. What would we be doing? What would the group be like? Would they be open to the documentary? Globe Aware had said that they were going to mention it to the other volunteers, but I wasn’t counting on anything. That morning, Joe and I had a hearty breakfast in the hotel’s dining room and made our way back to our room to gather all of our things. The butterflies in my stomach were whirling like nobody’s business as the time ticked by. I continued packing, Joe continued organizing the equipment and my butterflies seemed to be reproducing. Wow! I guess I’m really nervous, I thought. Very quickly I realized that it was not butterflies at all. I ran passed Joe and made my way to the bathroom. (For those of you who are now rolling your eyes at my potty recollections, too bad – you wanted an honest account so here goes!) I’m sure I don’t have to go into more detail than simply noting that I got to know the bathroom quite well that morning. I believe it’s a universal enough feeling to be able to stop there, don’t you.
The time ticked by...
I finally opened the door and almost slammed into the camera – leering at me. Seems while I was busy taking care of my business, Joe was busy taking care of his. He’d waited in the room, red record light flashing, beckoning me to well... Flush.
I. Had. The. Poops.
Downing the recommended amount of Immodium, I yelled at Joe to turn the camera off and checked out of the hotel. Goodbye bathroom... Hello long journey to Ho.
I hope it’s not a bumpy ride.
Finally! Globe Aware’s official start day arrives! I woke up with such anticipation for the days to come. What would we be doing? What would the group be like? Would they be open to the documentary? Globe Aware had said that they were going to mention it to the other volunteers, but I wasn’t counting on anything. That morning, Joe and I had a hearty breakfast in the hotel’s dining room and made our way back to our room to gather all of our things. The butterflies in my stomach were whirling like nobody’s business as the time ticked by. I continued packing, Joe continued organizing the equipment and my butterflies seemed to be reproducing. Wow! I guess I’m really nervous, I thought. Very quickly I realized that it was not butterflies at all. I ran passed Joe and made my way to the bathroom. (For those of you who are now rolling your eyes at my potty recollections, too bad – you wanted an honest account so here goes!) I’m sure I don’t have to go into more detail than simply noting that I got to know the bathroom quite well that morning. I believe it’s a universal enough feeling to be able to stop there, don’t you.
The time ticked by...
I finally opened the door and almost slammed into the camera – leering at me. Seems while I was busy taking care of my business, Joe was busy taking care of his. He’d waited in the room, red record light flashing, beckoning me to well... Flush.
I. Had. The. Poops.
Downing the recommended amount of Immodium, I yelled at Joe to turn the camera off and checked out of the hotel. Goodbye bathroom... Hello long journey to Ho.
I hope it’s not a bumpy ride.
Monday, November 3, 2008
Best Laid Plans (Part 12)
DAY 2
Although I think both Joe and I felt that we could’ve slept the day away, we got up early in the morning so that we could be at the Ministry of Information’s Office first thing. We needed to get our press passes and were told not to begin filming without them.
One of the first things I found most interesting about Ghana is that there are no real addresses – PO Boxes yes – but addresses, no. You can’t say to a cab driver, take me to 145 Prospect Street b/w whatever and whatever. And being somewhat anal, before I left, I’d tried to map the distance between my hotel and the Ministry so that I could have some idea of how far it was and how much time we’d need to get there – but alas, one cannot find a PO Box on mapquest.
For some reason, government people (regardless of the country) make me nervous. I always immediately find myself itching to confess a crime that I don’t even know exists. I also find that I have to keep myself from blurting out inane information that, while wouldn’t necessarily make me a criminal, would definitely make me seem like a nutter... Such as ‘when I was 15 I told my sister that there were no more brownies when, in fact, I had the last one hidden away in a cabinet for my own selfish consumption!’ So along with my official paperwork, I also carried with me my odd compulsion to admit idiotic wrongdoings. Joe on the other hand, was simply itching to start filming whatever possible. At least one of us was focused.
Thankfully, we were seen right away and the official that we spoke with was very nice while also putting the fear of god in me. She explained a number of reasons why, if we didn’t follow the rules, we could be arrested. She wanted an explicit rundown of where we were going to be filming, which would have been fine but for the fact that I had no idea. She said that if we were discovered to be filming outside of where we said we were going to be, our equipment would be confiscated and we could be arrested. I suddenly found my confession compulsion and my visions of a Ghanian prison merging into one holy-hell nightmare of epic proportions. I looked over at Joe so that we could share each others fears silently but he looked so relaxed that I became concerned he was gonna fall asleep. Apparently, the sound of the Officer’s voice, while making me quiver with anxiety, was like a lullaby for Joe. When she turned her attention away from us to find a typist that could put together our press passes, Joe smirked at me and said that she was just trying to scare us. I reminded him that they don’t serve pancakes in prison but he was unshakeable.
After informing us that the typist was not in the building and would be coming in from a different location, she asked again where we wanted to film. The Volta Region was too general for her. I explained that we would be in Ho and then in surrounding villages that we didn’t yet know the names of, to which she reminded me of confiscation and imprisonment. I was worried that we were at an impasse. I gave her Richard’s number – he was the Globe Aware contact in Ghana but her attempts to reach him were unsuccessful. Would we get our press passes? If she refused us would we shoot anyway? I looked over at Joe and, as if he knew what I was wondering, he winked at me. Well, maybe he and I would share a cell.
Amazingly, after about 20 minutes, without specifics on where we were going to be filming, we were handed our press passes. I hate when Joe is right.
Along with our press passes, she sent us away with her assistant in tow. I had asked her whether she knew of any good markets in Ho and she said that the best markets are in Accra. She also said that her assistant would accompany us to them (for a fee) and we could film it.
Well, well, well... At least I knew we wouldn’t be arrested (at least not that day) and Joe knew that we’d get some great footage. We both got what we wanted.
Although I think both Joe and I felt that we could’ve slept the day away, we got up early in the morning so that we could be at the Ministry of Information’s Office first thing. We needed to get our press passes and were told not to begin filming without them.
One of the first things I found most interesting about Ghana is that there are no real addresses – PO Boxes yes – but addresses, no. You can’t say to a cab driver, take me to 145 Prospect Street b/w whatever and whatever. And being somewhat anal, before I left, I’d tried to map the distance between my hotel and the Ministry so that I could have some idea of how far it was and how much time we’d need to get there – but alas, one cannot find a PO Box on mapquest.
For some reason, government people (regardless of the country) make me nervous. I always immediately find myself itching to confess a crime that I don’t even know exists. I also find that I have to keep myself from blurting out inane information that, while wouldn’t necessarily make me a criminal, would definitely make me seem like a nutter... Such as ‘when I was 15 I told my sister that there were no more brownies when, in fact, I had the last one hidden away in a cabinet for my own selfish consumption!’ So along with my official paperwork, I also carried with me my odd compulsion to admit idiotic wrongdoings. Joe on the other hand, was simply itching to start filming whatever possible. At least one of us was focused.
Thankfully, we were seen right away and the official that we spoke with was very nice while also putting the fear of god in me. She explained a number of reasons why, if we didn’t follow the rules, we could be arrested. She wanted an explicit rundown of where we were going to be filming, which would have been fine but for the fact that I had no idea. She said that if we were discovered to be filming outside of where we said we were going to be, our equipment would be confiscated and we could be arrested. I suddenly found my confession compulsion and my visions of a Ghanian prison merging into one holy-hell nightmare of epic proportions. I looked over at Joe so that we could share each others fears silently but he looked so relaxed that I became concerned he was gonna fall asleep. Apparently, the sound of the Officer’s voice, while making me quiver with anxiety, was like a lullaby for Joe. When she turned her attention away from us to find a typist that could put together our press passes, Joe smirked at me and said that she was just trying to scare us. I reminded him that they don’t serve pancakes in prison but he was unshakeable.
After informing us that the typist was not in the building and would be coming in from a different location, she asked again where we wanted to film. The Volta Region was too general for her. I explained that we would be in Ho and then in surrounding villages that we didn’t yet know the names of, to which she reminded me of confiscation and imprisonment. I was worried that we were at an impasse. I gave her Richard’s number – he was the Globe Aware contact in Ghana but her attempts to reach him were unsuccessful. Would we get our press passes? If she refused us would we shoot anyway? I looked over at Joe and, as if he knew what I was wondering, he winked at me. Well, maybe he and I would share a cell.
Amazingly, after about 20 minutes, without specifics on where we were going to be filming, we were handed our press passes. I hate when Joe is right.
Along with our press passes, she sent us away with her assistant in tow. I had asked her whether she knew of any good markets in Ho and she said that the best markets are in Accra. She also said that her assistant would accompany us to them (for a fee) and we could film it.
Well, well, well... At least I knew we wouldn’t be arrested (at least not that day) and Joe knew that we’d get some great footage. We both got what we wanted.
Thursday, October 23, 2008
I'll admit... its been awhile...
Whew! Its been awhile since any of you have heard from me. I wish I could say that it’s because I’ve been busy with the editing process, or because I was thrown into some adventure relating to the documentary, but alas, that would not be the case (and I am a terrible liar). So here we are in October and its been many weeks since I’ve last written. I think the reason is three-fold.
1. I found it difficult to so quickly review my day’s events during my time in Ghana. The week was so jam-packed with experiences that, I don’t know, I think I felt like I was inserting a tone onto the experience rather than waiting for some perspective on it. Does that even make sense?
2. Before leaving for the trip, I was under the assumption that when I returned from this supposedly life-changing experience, I would be, well, changed somehow. However, in actually experiencing my homecoming, I found that while I did feel amazingly accomplished in having seen this trip through, I discovered that I was still basically the same person, with the same feelings. Heartbroken? Check. Somewhat lost? Check. Excited and cautious of what’s to come? Check and check. The trip didn’t replace anything for me, it merely added a new feeling – albeit a positive one, but it was addition, not substitution.
3. Lastly, the third thing that took me away from writing about my experiences is quite a major event. I’ve lost my director of photography and editor. Sadly, Joe is no longer a part of Best Laid Plans. He did great work in Ghana but I am now having to go about the rest of this experience on my own.
This year has given new meaning to the term, best laid plans for me - in multiple aspects of my life. So, Alicia and I have decided to simply go with it. Originally, I was to experience this volunteer vacation and go to Africa as a way to invite the things that I’d have had to put off had my husband not walked out, and had I had children with him. I was to be part of a two person team. But my best laid (original) plans for the documentary hadn’t worked out. Now it’s just me. So, with Alicia’s expert guidance I’ve decided to shift things again. The documentary will not end with my plane landing in the US. Life goes on and so does Best Laid Plans. Stay tuned as more information is to come...
And yeah, I’ll continue the journal entries of my time there... You’ve all asked for it and I promise that next time I write, it’ll be about day 2!
1. I found it difficult to so quickly review my day’s events during my time in Ghana. The week was so jam-packed with experiences that, I don’t know, I think I felt like I was inserting a tone onto the experience rather than waiting for some perspective on it. Does that even make sense?
2. Before leaving for the trip, I was under the assumption that when I returned from this supposedly life-changing experience, I would be, well, changed somehow. However, in actually experiencing my homecoming, I found that while I did feel amazingly accomplished in having seen this trip through, I discovered that I was still basically the same person, with the same feelings. Heartbroken? Check. Somewhat lost? Check. Excited and cautious of what’s to come? Check and check. The trip didn’t replace anything for me, it merely added a new feeling – albeit a positive one, but it was addition, not substitution.
3. Lastly, the third thing that took me away from writing about my experiences is quite a major event. I’ve lost my director of photography and editor. Sadly, Joe is no longer a part of Best Laid Plans. He did great work in Ghana but I am now having to go about the rest of this experience on my own.
This year has given new meaning to the term, best laid plans for me - in multiple aspects of my life. So, Alicia and I have decided to simply go with it. Originally, I was to experience this volunteer vacation and go to Africa as a way to invite the things that I’d have had to put off had my husband not walked out, and had I had children with him. I was to be part of a two person team. But my best laid (original) plans for the documentary hadn’t worked out. Now it’s just me. So, with Alicia’s expert guidance I’ve decided to shift things again. The documentary will not end with my plane landing in the US. Life goes on and so does Best Laid Plans. Stay tuned as more information is to come...
And yeah, I’ll continue the journal entries of my time there... You’ve all asked for it and I promise that next time I write, it’ll be about day 2!
Monday, August 4, 2008
Best Laid Plans (Part 6)
Ode to the elusive Press Pass!
Why do you elude me? You say that you are on your way and yet... why have you not arrived yet? I promise to be good to you when you arrive... I will do a jig even, and, had I the skills to, I would happily perform a double-triple-loop-backflip. Yet, here I am, with an empty hand, sitting by my mailbox, longing for it to be filled with some sort of official-looking paperwork.
While our visas arrived very quickly, it seemed that our application for the press pass was misplaced. The people processing the information could not have been nicer or more helpful and have said that the information has been found now and is currently being processed. However, the neurotic New Yorker in me will remain concerned until the actual document is in my shakey, nervous hands. Joe, of course, is not concerned. He merely shrugged, ordered another round of pancakes and sucked back his third can of root beer. Joe has, it should be noted, informed me that we are in a marriage of convenience. The convenience being that he figures, I worry so much, that he need not worry at all. Convenient for him, stroke-inducing for me. The truth is, I'm sure it will all work out. The people I have spoken with have been great and want to help out, but I can also honestly say that I long for the day that I can talk about my want of the press pass in the past tense.
If you're out there press pass, come home. We promise to treat you well!!
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