It’s been rather hot in Los Angeles the last couple days. On Wednesday – or was is Tuesday? – I decided to join my friend, Steve, at the local coffee shop, although I had the air conditioner on in my apartment. We sat outside drinking iced coffees as he did his crossword puzzle and I sat staring at the Scientology Building. Regardless of the heat, it was a beautiful, sunny day.
To our right, a guy named Michael sat down next to us. First off, I have met this man before and do not like him. He rubs me the wrong way and, within a matter of minutes, he had turned to us and asked, “So what do you do?”
I’m getting tired of this question, because it’s usually means someone is trying to gauge your worth. They may preface the question with “What is your name?” or “I see you here a lot. Do you live in the neighborhood?” But usually by the third or fourth question they are asking “What do you do?”
People love to know what you are about in this city. What car you drive. What part of town you live in. What your apartment looks like. How you make your living. What you’re doing in order to make that living. They like to know where you fit in the grand scheme of Hollywood and what you can possibly do for them.
Steve told him he was an actor, but that he was also in production. And then Michael looked to me, through his sunglasses, and asked me what I do. I wanted to slide through my seat and down to the ground, which would hopefully then swallow me up. I wanted to use my backup answer, “I’m getting my Masters at UCLA in the Geopolitical Strategies of the Former USSR in relation to the US and the UK,” but I didn’t. (That usually shuts them up.)
But I mustered up enough courage to say, “I’m a writer” and Steve quickly added “A very good one.” AH! Shhhh! Not in this town! Why didn’t you say you washed dogs for a living!? But it was too late! Michael asked me what type of films I wrote and when it came out that I wrote “Independent Films,” or one might say “European Art House Films,” he sat back in his chair and with a troubled deep breathe, as if the weight of the World had just sunk on his shoulders, exclaimed, “Yeah, I can’t do that.”
Wait a minute! What? Huh? Hold the phone! Did you actually think that over a cup of coffee that somehow we would create a working relationship? HA! Did he actually think I was sitting there with my fingers crossed hoping that he would make all my troubles go away, pick me up and help me carry my little film towards the light of success?
Another lamprey moment happened to me the night after this. I went into Birds to watch the Boston-Yankees game – such pain! I’m a Boston fan – and this guy sat down next to me and, after much prodding and annoying questions by him, I told him that I was a writer and that I was doing a short film. And by the end of the night, the Idiot had asked me to be his writing partner and gave me free reign to steal his ideas. Pardonnez-moi? Простите мне? Excuse me? What!?
You might have realized here that I'm very private about what I do... And perhaps I also have a wee problem with being secure in what it is I do… I know I’m a good writer, but it’s not something I want to shout from the tippy tops of buildings or on street corners or in restaurants so some producer will take note of me… I’m not like that. I want to do this on my own. I want to be left alone. I want to be independent of what Hollywood symbolizes. I want to sail out on my little ship, with my handpicked crew of fabulous, trustworthy “sailors” and do it my way…
Oh, God help me.
Friday, August 31, 2007
Thursday, August 23, 2007
living in Moscow...
I had a magnificent view of Moscow from my kitchen window. In the mornings, before I headed off to school, I would eat breakfast at our tiny kitchen table and look out over the city. In the distance stood one of “Stalin’s Seven Ugly Sisters,” the Moscow State University, which was surrounded by thousands of old Russian apartment buildings.
The city was always awake and you felt like you were always struggling to move around it. You were always pushing your way through the millions of people that called the city their home. You were always fighting your way onto buses or into packed trains, through crowds of people when you were on foot or through the endless heavy traffic that took up entire boulevards.
It was scorching hot in the summer and freezing in the winter, but nothing changed about the city’s people as dirt – not sand – was put on the roads to melt the snow. People kept moving forward with their lives. When you walked down the sidewalk, you keep your eyes focused in front of you. People rarely smiled and, when you smiled at them, a look of confusion usually spread across their face. It was not the friendliest city. The people were just as hard as their buildings. Walls built up around them as high as the University. But you don't have to wonder why. You understand their apprehension.
There are places that I have been that I desire to return to, but Moscow is not high on that list. I am sure that I will go back one day, but the memories of living there are of painfully cold winter days, dirty city streets and attempting to master a difficult language. There was a darkness to the city. A depression that blanketed everything and everyone. Some mornings you went to school or work before the sun rose and you left after it had set. Other times Russia’s “White Nights” forced you to use your black out curtains in order to sleep, but as you laid in bed as the clock ticked by, you would push the curtain aside and see a brightly lit sky at 2 in the morning.
But there were moments in Moscow that were magical. Near my apartment, at 83 Leninsky Prospect, there was a bakery that I would regularly walk to in order to buy a loaf of Russian black bread and two loaves of white and, by the time I returned to the apartment, one loaf of white would already be half-consumed.
The open air markets of Moscow - Рынок (pronounced renok) - were filled with fruits, vegetables, flowers and other foods. I would go with either my Mother or my nanny - Katherine or Maureen - to the market to get fresh produce and along the way were tables filled with flowers. Young girls that were my age spent weekends selling flowers and other goods along with their fathers, mothers or grandmothers sitting beside them.
There is magic in most places you go. For me, it’s found in the little moments. In my memories. The last day I was in Moscow I spent with my friend, Carrie, and we traveled all over the city. After going to the Kremlin – so I could see St. Basil’s before I left – we went to the Arbat, which was one of Moscow's most famous streets. It is also a place where gypsy children hang out and try to steal your wallets and bags. As you walk down the Arbat, the children come up to you in a group and you spend your time watching your bag, handing out kopeks and trying to get away.
In 1991, Communism fell with the August coup d'etat. After three days, the Soviet Union no longer existed and three men had died on the streets of Moscow. From inside the American Embassy Compound’s walls, I sat looking out at the Government of Russia Building and took photographs of the people walking the streets.
Government of Russia Building taken from the Embassy
American Embassy Compound
Streets of Moscow
People don't realize how close these two buildings were – they were across the street from one another – and you can see from these photographs that the protests over the three nights were very close to the Embassy. People had to be moved from the Government building side of the Embassy and into the gym, because of stray bullets and fighting on the street.
After the coup ended, the people of Moscow took the streets and paid their respects to these three young men by putting flowers at the places they died, as well as in the buses that had been set on fire. Here are some photographs from the day my Mother and I walked the streets…
The city was always awake and you felt like you were always struggling to move around it. You were always pushing your way through the millions of people that called the city their home. You were always fighting your way onto buses or into packed trains, through crowds of people when you were on foot or through the endless heavy traffic that took up entire boulevards.
It was scorching hot in the summer and freezing in the winter, but nothing changed about the city’s people as dirt – not sand – was put on the roads to melt the snow. People kept moving forward with their lives. When you walked down the sidewalk, you keep your eyes focused in front of you. People rarely smiled and, when you smiled at them, a look of confusion usually spread across their face. It was not the friendliest city. The people were just as hard as their buildings. Walls built up around them as high as the University. But you don't have to wonder why. You understand their apprehension.
There are places that I have been that I desire to return to, but Moscow is not high on that list. I am sure that I will go back one day, but the memories of living there are of painfully cold winter days, dirty city streets and attempting to master a difficult language. There was a darkness to the city. A depression that blanketed everything and everyone. Some mornings you went to school or work before the sun rose and you left after it had set. Other times Russia’s “White Nights” forced you to use your black out curtains in order to sleep, but as you laid in bed as the clock ticked by, you would push the curtain aside and see a brightly lit sky at 2 in the morning.
But there were moments in Moscow that were magical. Near my apartment, at 83 Leninsky Prospect, there was a bakery that I would regularly walk to in order to buy a loaf of Russian black bread and two loaves of white and, by the time I returned to the apartment, one loaf of white would already be half-consumed.
The open air markets of Moscow - Рынок (pronounced renok) - were filled with fruits, vegetables, flowers and other foods. I would go with either my Mother or my nanny - Katherine or Maureen - to the market to get fresh produce and along the way were tables filled with flowers. Young girls that were my age spent weekends selling flowers and other goods along with their fathers, mothers or grandmothers sitting beside them.
There is magic in most places you go. For me, it’s found in the little moments. In my memories. The last day I was in Moscow I spent with my friend, Carrie, and we traveled all over the city. After going to the Kremlin – so I could see St. Basil’s before I left – we went to the Arbat, which was one of Moscow's most famous streets. It is also a place where gypsy children hang out and try to steal your wallets and bags. As you walk down the Arbat, the children come up to you in a group and you spend your time watching your bag, handing out kopeks and trying to get away.
In 1991, Communism fell with the August coup d'etat. After three days, the Soviet Union no longer existed and three men had died on the streets of Moscow. From inside the American Embassy Compound’s walls, I sat looking out at the Government of Russia Building and took photographs of the people walking the streets.
Government of Russia Building taken from the Embassy
American Embassy Compound
Streets of MoscowPeople don't realize how close these two buildings were – they were across the street from one another – and you can see from these photographs that the protests over the three nights were very close to the Embassy. People had to be moved from the Government building side of the Embassy and into the gym, because of stray bullets and fighting on the street.
After the coup ended, the people of Moscow took the streets and paid their respects to these three young men by putting flowers at the places they died, as well as in the buses that had been set on fire. Here are some photographs from the day my Mother and I walked the streets…
Wednesday, August 22, 2007
Monday, August 20, 2007
i have a scanner now.....
So Steve set up my scanner for me and I’ve been going crazy scanning since yesterday. All these fun photographs…
More photographs to come!
More photographs to come!
Sunday, August 19, 2007
the color of life
My memories of living in Malaysia and Russia are filled with dreamlike recollections. The colors of Malaysia stand out in my mind – the greens, the reds – and my scrapbooks are filled with photographs of me walking down the streets of Singapore, standing amongst statues in Bali, carefully exploring the jungles in Frazier’s Hill and watching monkeys climb trees in the backyard.
I remember my Mother taking these photographs. They are memories that are filled with little treasures, like what it was like to speak with a slight British accent or to always be wary of King Kobras sneaking around in the tall grass.
Everyone has memories that carry with them strong visceral reactions when you close your eyes and think back to specific hours, days, weeks, years... You can have love affairs with cities, with countries, with architecture, with the streets, with people, with moments, with passing conversations.
Lately, I have felt like a caged bird. Confined. Knowing that this trip with Heather is in the near future makes me feel like I am finally let out of my cage and allowed to soar and by no means am I going back in. It gives me a taste of what life could be like if I moved to London or Paris. It gives me hope that life will take on some of the aspects that I miss from my past. It also gives me the fuel to complete my film and to move forward.
What is important is that I must remember not to be tied down by old memories, but instead find things to make into new ones. My youth gave me a taste of what adventure and life is all about. It's my responsibility now to make something of this life.
a shift in plans
Already things are changing. My friend, Sal, is going to be in Europe at the same time that Heather and I will be there and we plan on meeting up with him in Italy and in Paris.
We’re thinking of staying one more day in London (which would make it four) before heading to Italy (on the 20th.) We had planned on flying into Florence, but we might end up going to Naples and taking a train south to the Amalfi Coast where Sal has found a villa. We would stay there for four days before taking the train up north to Florence or Venice or Trieste for Christmas.
We would really like to spend two or three days in Florence before heading to the south of France. In Paris, Sal, Heather and I are talking about finding an apartment that we can split between the three of us while we see the New Year in!
As for writing during the trip, I am going to get myself a small journal. Moleskin has these great little journals that are made especially for individual cities, which I wish I had had when I was in Prague. They are small and easy to carry; however, I don’t know if I want to carry around three separate books – no matter how small – although it might be a lot of fun to have individual books to bring with me when I return to London or Paris or Florence…
Each city and country is so different from each other that separating journal entries into separate books might be ideal. And each book will allow me to just ramble on in thoughts as we roam through Bloomsbury, walk along the Thames, visit the Tate, and fly into London; as we see the Duomo, view the art in the Galleria Dell’ Accademia, and cross the Arno; as we sit in an Italian villa on the coast; as we ride the trains past the Italian countryside and French towns; as we have coffee in bistros and cafés and dine in restaurants; and sit in parks, walk the cities, drink wine, and mingle with the locals…
And of course, I will have my trusty little camera to document everything I see! (The above photographs were taken in 1996 (Paris and Florence) and 1999 (London.))
We’re thinking of staying one more day in London (which would make it four) before heading to Italy (on the 20th.) We had planned on flying into Florence, but we might end up going to Naples and taking a train south to the Amalfi Coast where Sal has found a villa. We would stay there for four days before taking the train up north to Florence or Venice or Trieste for Christmas.
We would really like to spend two or three days in Florence before heading to the south of France. In Paris, Sal, Heather and I are talking about finding an apartment that we can split between the three of us while we see the New Year in!
As for writing during the trip, I am going to get myself a small journal. Moleskin has these great little journals that are made especially for individual cities, which I wish I had had when I was in Prague. They are small and easy to carry; however, I don’t know if I want to carry around three separate books – no matter how small – although it might be a lot of fun to have individual books to bring with me when I return to London or Paris or Florence…
Each city and country is so different from each other that separating journal entries into separate books might be ideal. And each book will allow me to just ramble on in thoughts as we roam through Bloomsbury, walk along the Thames, visit the Tate, and fly into London; as we see the Duomo, view the art in the Galleria Dell’ Accademia, and cross the Arno; as we sit in an Italian villa on the coast; as we ride the trains past the Italian countryside and French towns; as we have coffee in bistros and cafés and dine in restaurants; and sit in parks, walk the cities, drink wine, and mingle with the locals…
And of course, I will have my trusty little camera to document everything I see! (The above photographs were taken in 1996 (Paris and Florence) and 1999 (London.))
Saturday, August 18, 2007
trains, planes and backpacking through europe
Heather and I bought our plane tickets to London today! We are going to London on December 15th and are traveling through Europe until January 5th! The ball has been put in motion. There is no turning back. We went to Borders and bought Lonely Planet guidebooks to London, Florence and Paris! Our rough itinerary is as follows:
Dec 15th – 19th: London
19th – 26th: Italy: Florence, Venice and Trieste
26th – Jan 4th: France: Toulon and Paris
4th: London
5th Fly to Los Angeles
I can’t wait to ride the trains through Italy and France. We plan on flying to Florence from London to save time, but riding the rails through Italy and France will surely be enough train travel to please me! I love riding trains. Always have.
When I was eleven, my parents took me to Switzerland to go skiing while we lived in Moscow. Our train winded around the side of the mountain slowly, giving us time to take in the scene outside our window. Having stopped writing in my notebook, I looked out at fresh, white snow covering everything outside. The tree branches hung low, weighed down by the snow, and the train plowed its way around every corner. I thought to myself that this was one of the most perfect moments in my young life. Right there, I said to my Mother, that I had to return to Switzerland, perhaps live there one day, and ride the train as a respected and established writer.
Soon after the Switzerland trip, I went to St. Petersburg with my parents. As the train sped along, I sat next to the window and wrote in my notebook. I would periodically look out my window at the passing night and would occasionally see the lights of a small town train station go by. We always took the night train whenever we went to St. Petersburg or to Finland. When we went to bed, I was rocked to sleep in the top bunk while my parents slept in the lower two bunks. In the morning, we would be greeted with glasses of hot tea (chai) and again I would find myself seated next to the window and looking out at the passing countryside, now visible in the early morning light. I can only imagine the train trip we will find ourselves on this winter.
Friday, August 17, 2007
an ideal day
I have been skimming the pages of several of my old journals and they’ve been rather inspiring and eye-opening. It’s amazing how you ebb and flow as a human being; how sometimes you’re on top of it and other times you are not; how you can be extremely healthy at some point in your life and anorexic at another; completely nuts at one point and level-headed now.
In my journals, I put down my thoughts, organize my day’s work and research or look over notes. It's an amazing way to get my thoughts out onto the page in order to use them. I love to write in a journal when I am reading a book or in the midst of writing. Many of my character notes on my last film are found throughout the pages. Discussions on religion/spirituality, art, death, suicide, alcoholism, friendship… all themes in the film.
In my 2006 journal, I wrote a lot when I was reading, researching and writing the script. I had a rather wonderful lifestyle, which I am trying to get back into… It's definitely a writer's life. When in the morning, after waking, I’d get up, make myself some tea or coffee and spend some time on the porch writing and reading as the sun just situated itself in the sky. Sometimes I would wake just as the sun was rising and everything is so quiet outside as the World comes alive and it is an amazing moment to work.
I think what is so important is the balance between introspective/introvert work days and extroverted/outgoing days off. A perfect day would be one that has that balance. That if it’s work, it feel genuine and that I’ve given myself space to be free, so I can be serious when necessary.
I am now on a mission for centeredness – in my mind, body and soul – and there are things I have to start doing or going back to - yoga, pilates, meditation, journal writing, hiking up into Bronson Park... But how does one find peace within one self? Do they move to a place they feel they’d be happier? I asked this same question at nineteen and I asked myself if it was through “Taoism? Meditation? Simplicity?” All these things I know have helped me and I have not kept up with for a long time.
Today I went to my Pilates session, where my friend Karina is my instructor, and I feel like practicing Pilates is going to not only work me out and not only help how I carry myself physically, but I think it will support me as I move forward with my life psychologically and emotionally. Everything in life - that you have control over - should support you, motivate you, push you forward and inspire you in some way... It takes a lot to keep the negative out.
There are a string of things that I would like to start doing again, like:
- making yoga an every day part of my life again
- re-learn Russian and French
- take photography classes
- continue going to the gym and start swimming.
- start meditating again.
- hiking up that damn Bronson Park HILL again.
And to start on another foot, I'm gonna get out of the neighborhood for a little while tonight and watch a rather beautiful man perform at the Hotel Café...
In my journals, I put down my thoughts, organize my day’s work and research or look over notes. It's an amazing way to get my thoughts out onto the page in order to use them. I love to write in a journal when I am reading a book or in the midst of writing. Many of my character notes on my last film are found throughout the pages. Discussions on religion/spirituality, art, death, suicide, alcoholism, friendship… all themes in the film.
In my 2006 journal, I wrote a lot when I was reading, researching and writing the script. I had a rather wonderful lifestyle, which I am trying to get back into… It's definitely a writer's life. When in the morning, after waking, I’d get up, make myself some tea or coffee and spend some time on the porch writing and reading as the sun just situated itself in the sky. Sometimes I would wake just as the sun was rising and everything is so quiet outside as the World comes alive and it is an amazing moment to work.
I think what is so important is the balance between introspective/introvert work days and extroverted/outgoing days off. A perfect day would be one that has that balance. That if it’s work, it feel genuine and that I’ve given myself space to be free, so I can be serious when necessary.
I am now on a mission for centeredness – in my mind, body and soul – and there are things I have to start doing or going back to - yoga, pilates, meditation, journal writing, hiking up into Bronson Park... But how does one find peace within one self? Do they move to a place they feel they’d be happier? I asked this same question at nineteen and I asked myself if it was through “Taoism? Meditation? Simplicity?” All these things I know have helped me and I have not kept up with for a long time.
Today I went to my Pilates session, where my friend Karina is my instructor, and I feel like practicing Pilates is going to not only work me out and not only help how I carry myself physically, but I think it will support me as I move forward with my life psychologically and emotionally. Everything in life - that you have control over - should support you, motivate you, push you forward and inspire you in some way... It takes a lot to keep the negative out.
There are a string of things that I would like to start doing again, like:
- making yoga an every day part of my life again
- re-learn Russian and French
- take photography classes
- continue going to the gym and start swimming.
- start meditating again.
- hiking up that damn Bronson Park HILL again.
And to start on another foot, I'm gonna get out of the neighborhood for a little while tonight and watch a rather beautiful man perform at the Hotel Café...
Thursday, August 16, 2007
Paris Peut-être?
This December and January, I am venturing back out into the wide European World yet again on another trip. Without knowing who my traveling companion will be – Heather, my Mother or just myself – I do not know exactly what my itinerary will be….
But if I was to go alone, if it was just going to be me, and my decision alone, I would do one of two things: I would either fly into London and spend a week or two there before going to France, OR I would skip London all together and go directly to Paris and spend two to three weeks there and then take a week or so traveling through the South of France. I seem to lean in the direction of the all-France travel plan.
I want to become immersed in Paris. I want to get a taste of the culture, the language, the city, the lifestyle, the experience of being there day after day… I would like to see if I would want to live there, which I have the distinct feeling I would.
But, wait!, you said – just a few posts ago – that you were going to go to London?
Yes, I did, but have you seen the dollar lately and how the pound kills it? I will go broke in London, but Paris is comparable to Los Angeles, I believe.
But, I think, the real question is “What am I looking for?”
Steve had a very interesting point when we were at lunch yesterday. I am a writer. First and foremost, that is what I DO. Everyday. I am doing my short film and am working towards other endeavors and dreams, but what I do best is write. And I am good at it. And I can write from anywhere in the World.
I don’t know if moving away is going to set me back. It might, professionally, but really, honestly, where is it going to set me back to? If I was still working to be an AD, then yes, moving to Europe would hurt my job prospects.
But strangely enough, this is not something that worries me. Maybe it should. But it doesn’t, because I have other things that I want to do with my life besides be mixed up in Hollywood’s grind. There are other ways of doing this, which I have recently witnessed when I was in Prague. Rian was a great inspiration.
I understand people’s belief that you must be in Los Angeles to make something of yourself, but I don’t want to become what Los Angeles creates. I don’t want to do blockbusters. I don’t want to be surrounded by the superficiality of starfuckers and wannabes. I don’t want to be befriended, because someone thinks one of my friends can get them a job.
I want to wake up in the morning, look out my window at my beautiful city, smile to myself and go “I live HERE!” as I turn my computer on and sit down to write.
Again, I’m a romantic. I’ve said it before. And don’t get me wrong. Romanticism doesn’t have to be about lovers, sex and passionate affairs. It can be about the simplicity of a thing, which is expressed so beautifully in Rupert Brooke’s poem “The Great Lover”:
These I have loved:
White plates and cups, clean-gleaming,
Ringed with blue lines; and feathery, faery dust;
Wet roofs, beneath the lamp-light; the strong crust
Of friendly bread; and many-tasting food…
Then, the cool kindliness of sheets, that soon
Smooth away trouble; and the rough male kiss
Of blankets; grainy wood; live hair that is
Shining and free; blue-massing clouds; the keen
Unpassioned beauty of a great machine;
The benison of hot water; furs to touch;
The good smell of old clothes; and other such—
The comfortable smell of friendly fingers,
Hair's fragrance, and the musty reek that lingers
About dead leaves and last year's ferns....
And in a couple years, after living somewhere I love, that inspires me, I might have written a couple amazing scripts and I will have something more to move forward with… Life is about moving forward and, although I am moving forward in Los Angeles, I feel, for some reason, motionless, as if it is hard for me to propel myself forward anymore. And I know it is not about my love for the written word – for I love to write – or my desire to see it up on the screen, but a restlessness that comes from the city. From what I feel the city does not give me. I feel like it is an empty calorie. And I only want good food.
I need a place that inspires. I need a place that I love. I need a place that shocks my system. And maybe that is London. And maybe that is Paris. I don't know where I'll be in Septemeber of 2008 right now.
But if I was to go alone, if it was just going to be me, and my decision alone, I would do one of two things: I would either fly into London and spend a week or two there before going to France, OR I would skip London all together and go directly to Paris and spend two to three weeks there and then take a week or so traveling through the South of France. I seem to lean in the direction of the all-France travel plan.
I want to become immersed in Paris. I want to get a taste of the culture, the language, the city, the lifestyle, the experience of being there day after day… I would like to see if I would want to live there, which I have the distinct feeling I would.
But, wait!, you said – just a few posts ago – that you were going to go to London?
Yes, I did, but have you seen the dollar lately and how the pound kills it? I will go broke in London, but Paris is comparable to Los Angeles, I believe.
But, I think, the real question is “What am I looking for?”
Steve had a very interesting point when we were at lunch yesterday. I am a writer. First and foremost, that is what I DO. Everyday. I am doing my short film and am working towards other endeavors and dreams, but what I do best is write. And I am good at it. And I can write from anywhere in the World.
I don’t know if moving away is going to set me back. It might, professionally, but really, honestly, where is it going to set me back to? If I was still working to be an AD, then yes, moving to Europe would hurt my job prospects.
But strangely enough, this is not something that worries me. Maybe it should. But it doesn’t, because I have other things that I want to do with my life besides be mixed up in Hollywood’s grind. There are other ways of doing this, which I have recently witnessed when I was in Prague. Rian was a great inspiration.
I understand people’s belief that you must be in Los Angeles to make something of yourself, but I don’t want to become what Los Angeles creates. I don’t want to do blockbusters. I don’t want to be surrounded by the superficiality of starfuckers and wannabes. I don’t want to be befriended, because someone thinks one of my friends can get them a job.
I want to wake up in the morning, look out my window at my beautiful city, smile to myself and go “I live HERE!” as I turn my computer on and sit down to write.
Again, I’m a romantic. I’ve said it before. And don’t get me wrong. Romanticism doesn’t have to be about lovers, sex and passionate affairs. It can be about the simplicity of a thing, which is expressed so beautifully in Rupert Brooke’s poem “The Great Lover”:
These I have loved:
White plates and cups, clean-gleaming,
Ringed with blue lines; and feathery, faery dust;
Wet roofs, beneath the lamp-light; the strong crust
Of friendly bread; and many-tasting food…
Then, the cool kindliness of sheets, that soon
Smooth away trouble; and the rough male kiss
Of blankets; grainy wood; live hair that is
Shining and free; blue-massing clouds; the keen
Unpassioned beauty of a great machine;
The benison of hot water; furs to touch;
The good smell of old clothes; and other such—
The comfortable smell of friendly fingers,
Hair's fragrance, and the musty reek that lingers
About dead leaves and last year's ferns....
And in a couple years, after living somewhere I love, that inspires me, I might have written a couple amazing scripts and I will have something more to move forward with… Life is about moving forward and, although I am moving forward in Los Angeles, I feel, for some reason, motionless, as if it is hard for me to propel myself forward anymore. And I know it is not about my love for the written word – for I love to write – or my desire to see it up on the screen, but a restlessness that comes from the city. From what I feel the city does not give me. I feel like it is an empty calorie. And I only want good food.
I need a place that inspires. I need a place that I love. I need a place that shocks my system. And maybe that is London. And maybe that is Paris. I don't know where I'll be in Septemeber of 2008 right now.
Tuesday, August 14, 2007
the power of euphoria
Imagine a room with a closed window that is suddenly thrown open and bright light, clean air, and cool wind come pouring in through it. That is how I feel today. Like a window has been opened.
Although it’s safe to say that I did not get everything I wanted today, I got what I definitely needed and that was support of some amazing friends. What’s important is to keep this momentum up. This movement forward in life towards creation. And I'm addicted to this momentum. This movement. This motion.
People are addicted to a wide variety of things: cigarettes, booze, drugs, shopping, eating, sex, stealing, driving too fast, adrenaline, gambling, work, exercise, caffeine… I personally have my own little obsessions, my own little quirks and my own little addictions. I have six hundred books mind you. We all do things to keep us “high,” in a state of euphoria.
There are a few things in my life, I am learning, that truly get me to that state of pure ecstasy. Literature, film, music, travel and men do that for me. They always have. They always will. And when they all come together it is all the better.
Although it’s safe to say that I did not get everything I wanted today, I got what I definitely needed and that was support of some amazing friends. What’s important is to keep this momentum up. This movement forward in life towards creation. And I'm addicted to this momentum. This movement. This motion.
People are addicted to a wide variety of things: cigarettes, booze, drugs, shopping, eating, sex, stealing, driving too fast, adrenaline, gambling, work, exercise, caffeine… I personally have my own little obsessions, my own little quirks and my own little addictions. I have six hundred books mind you. We all do things to keep us “high,” in a state of euphoria.
There are a few things in my life, I am learning, that truly get me to that state of pure ecstasy. Literature, film, music, travel and men do that for me. They always have. They always will. And when they all come together it is all the better.
Saturday, August 11, 2007
To Draw or Not To Draw...
There is nothing like the craftsmanship of a firm, leather bound journal. You crack open the pages and you hear the crinkle as they become unstuck. Putting pen to page, you think about what you want to write. To write in such a beautiful journal – like Hemmingway and Greene – you cannot be wasteful with your words. It’s an art form in many ways. You don’t just rip out a page and start afresh. They are expensive books. They are heavy books.
Sketchbooks, journals, and notebooks. These are some of my favorite things.
When I wasn’t writing, I used to also carry a sketchbook around with me and would draw almost daily, filling the books with sketches of my classmates, of my school buildings, copying photographs and pictures in magazines. Kids used to say they didn’t understand me: “You’re in 3 varsity sports, you’re the school artist and we find you reading Shakespeare in a tree!” So, I was the weird kid.
When I was seventeen (when the sketch of the woman was done) I went to Rhode Island School of Design for the Pre-College Summer Program and found myself in paradise. Eight-hour studio classes drawing nude models all day and being surrounded finally by like-mined teenagers was bliss. I never wanted to go back home or to my stuffy prep school. NEVER!
But those days of drawing every day in my sketchbook did end, although I have thought about taking that back up over and over again. It’s therapeutic and I think if you have a natural talent for something, you shouldn’t let it go to waste.
But I guess when you really focus on one thing, like anything, other things get left at the wayside. Things get left behind and you have to figure out how to incorporate those things you love back into your life before you loose them forever. They’re like friends that you don’t want to loose touch with. I guess that’s one reason why art always finds a way into my stories. I have to have it around me. It’s all over my walls. I see it everyday. I read about it. I make sure it surrounds me in my life. It’s in me. I might as well make sure it comes out of me again.
Friday, August 10, 2007
I'm really sick of lemons
Over the last week, I have glanced occasionally at “A Bohemian Girl” and thought “Is there anything I want to say today?”
No.
OK then.
But today I had something to say… imagine that… which were bits and pieces of thoughts that were being strung together on pieces of paper throughout the week… as well as paragraphs saved in word documents on my computer… since the last time I typed a single word online.
So here it goes…
The Master Cleanse is something you either love or hate, trust or suspect, agree with or oppose vehemently; regardless, people all over the World try the Master Cleanse each year. On Monday, I started the Cleanse in order to cleanse my body of a food allergy, but by the fourth day, I had to stop, because of leg cramps that started on the third day due to Mineral and Vitamin Deficiency. Not fun. I’m proud of myself for going four days, but the way it ended is a real… downer. No other way to put it. And I think the next Cleanse I do will be the old faithful vegetable and fruit smoothie/juice one… Yum!
Anyway, enough of that.
Of course I’ve been thinking about my moving to London, because that’s what’s been keeping this little boat afloat lately in this city of mine. I’m out of steam. I’ve sprung a leak and I have no crew and I’m a one-man army trying to clog this vessel. (That is one reason why I went on the Master Cleanse - to recharge my engine. I do that when I feel it’s been bogged down with too much “Hollywood” and “Life” guck.)
I’ll do it, don’t get me wrong… I always do it. I always find out a way of succeeding and I will get my film done, although a little later than I thought it would be.
So, as I do this on my own, I have been daydreaming about London. I don’t know where I would like to live, although I have looked at apartments (flats) online and have found some places that I could afford, especially if I moved there with my friend, Heather.
However, if she does go, Heather may find herself in Oxford and that would put me in the position to either go to Oxford for a couple years or live in London and visit her on a regular basis. Either way, we could still take vacations with each other and that is where the fun begins.
I think this means I need a vacation and Heather and I have been talking about going to France in the next six months. Maybe. Schedules permitting.
But if I lived in London, the World would be open to me and so would my godparents, who live in: France, Italy, Germany, Finland, Norway, Spain, Portugal, and Greece, to name a few. I have over 30 godparents who live in 30 countries and they always ask me to come visit them and I have never taken them up on their offers. But now that I would be in their neck of the woods, it would be stupid not to… (It was stupid not to before, I know. But I have visited most of them, so don’t shoot me!)
Onto something that has been bothering me…
Most of my friends have been very supportive about my decision to move to London. My Mother is actually very excited about it and said, “It’s a wonderful goal to have, my dear.”
However, one of my closest friends is rather unenthusiastic about my decision. I mean, what’s the purpose of saying, “Sure, you’re moving to London… It’s a stupid idea”… What? Excuse me?
Why do people feel the need to rain on my parade?
Saturday night, as we sat at La Poubelle, she immediately started criticizing me: “You’ve had this plan before. Weren’t you going to move there last October? You didn’t.”
No, I didn’t. I chose to stay in LA and follow my dream, but NOW, as it gets realized, I’ve decided there’s no reason to wait. I gave myself the “by 30” deadline and I’ll be hitting it in 1 1/2 years.
“You’re throwing everything away! You have connections here. You have a film that people love and want to make! You’re just quitting! And moving to London is not going to make things better. It’s not going to fix anything. You’re running away from what you want to do.”
I want to live in a place that gets me excited. I want to step out my front door and think “WOW. I live HERE.”
“It’s not going to stay that way. You’ll become jaded there. It’s not always going to be Wow. Life isn’t like that.”
Jaime is wow’d by Prague every day!?
“No place is going to wow you every day.”
When I lived in Malaysia, I was wow’d everyday.
“Uh! I can’t talk to you!”
Life is too short to not be in a place that you love. And every day I am here, I realize that more and more.
There are moments that make you appreciate Los Angeles. As I drove Heather home last night, she was so happy to be back in LA. She said: “Hello, my lovely city. I know people say you’re a whore… And maybe you are… But I love you.”
I will miss these moments, but it’s not enough to keep me here. And that’s what counts.
No.
OK then.
But today I had something to say… imagine that… which were bits and pieces of thoughts that were being strung together on pieces of paper throughout the week… as well as paragraphs saved in word documents on my computer… since the last time I typed a single word online.
So here it goes…
The Master Cleanse is something you either love or hate, trust or suspect, agree with or oppose vehemently; regardless, people all over the World try the Master Cleanse each year. On Monday, I started the Cleanse in order to cleanse my body of a food allergy, but by the fourth day, I had to stop, because of leg cramps that started on the third day due to Mineral and Vitamin Deficiency. Not fun. I’m proud of myself for going four days, but the way it ended is a real… downer. No other way to put it. And I think the next Cleanse I do will be the old faithful vegetable and fruit smoothie/juice one… Yum!
Anyway, enough of that.
Of course I’ve been thinking about my moving to London, because that’s what’s been keeping this little boat afloat lately in this city of mine. I’m out of steam. I’ve sprung a leak and I have no crew and I’m a one-man army trying to clog this vessel. (That is one reason why I went on the Master Cleanse - to recharge my engine. I do that when I feel it’s been bogged down with too much “Hollywood” and “Life” guck.)
I’ll do it, don’t get me wrong… I always do it. I always find out a way of succeeding and I will get my film done, although a little later than I thought it would be.
So, as I do this on my own, I have been daydreaming about London. I don’t know where I would like to live, although I have looked at apartments (flats) online and have found some places that I could afford, especially if I moved there with my friend, Heather.
However, if she does go, Heather may find herself in Oxford and that would put me in the position to either go to Oxford for a couple years or live in London and visit her on a regular basis. Either way, we could still take vacations with each other and that is where the fun begins.
I think this means I need a vacation and Heather and I have been talking about going to France in the next six months. Maybe. Schedules permitting.
But if I lived in London, the World would be open to me and so would my godparents, who live in: France, Italy, Germany, Finland, Norway, Spain, Portugal, and Greece, to name a few. I have over 30 godparents who live in 30 countries and they always ask me to come visit them and I have never taken them up on their offers. But now that I would be in their neck of the woods, it would be stupid not to… (It was stupid not to before, I know. But I have visited most of them, so don’t shoot me!)
Onto something that has been bothering me…
Most of my friends have been very supportive about my decision to move to London. My Mother is actually very excited about it and said, “It’s a wonderful goal to have, my dear.”
However, one of my closest friends is rather unenthusiastic about my decision. I mean, what’s the purpose of saying, “Sure, you’re moving to London… It’s a stupid idea”… What? Excuse me?
Why do people feel the need to rain on my parade?
Saturday night, as we sat at La Poubelle, she immediately started criticizing me: “You’ve had this plan before. Weren’t you going to move there last October? You didn’t.”
No, I didn’t. I chose to stay in LA and follow my dream, but NOW, as it gets realized, I’ve decided there’s no reason to wait. I gave myself the “by 30” deadline and I’ll be hitting it in 1 1/2 years.
“You’re throwing everything away! You have connections here. You have a film that people love and want to make! You’re just quitting! And moving to London is not going to make things better. It’s not going to fix anything. You’re running away from what you want to do.”
I want to live in a place that gets me excited. I want to step out my front door and think “WOW. I live HERE.”
“It’s not going to stay that way. You’ll become jaded there. It’s not always going to be Wow. Life isn’t like that.”
Jaime is wow’d by Prague every day!?
“No place is going to wow you every day.”
When I lived in Malaysia, I was wow’d everyday.
“Uh! I can’t talk to you!”
Life is too short to not be in a place that you love. And every day I am here, I realize that more and more.
There are moments that make you appreciate Los Angeles. As I drove Heather home last night, she was so happy to be back in LA. She said: “Hello, my lovely city. I know people say you’re a whore… And maybe you are… But I love you.”
I will miss these moments, but it’s not enough to keep me here. And that’s what counts.
Thursday, August 2, 2007
April 12th to April 18th Prague Journal Entries
So, I've decided to go back in time. Just a little jump back to April of 2007 when I went to the Czech Republic for eleven days. For a brief moment, I tried to keep a journal while I was in Prague; however, I found myself enjoying my time there far too much to write. (Note: This is a two part journal entry and my April 10th Entry is posted before this one, so you might want to read that one first.)
April 12th, 2007
So, life is on hold for I am in the Czech Republic, which is quite far away from Los Angeles. I have left so much behind me. I don’t want to go back. Not yet. Not now. Not today.
I feel that life is also beginning anew. That a chapter has been finished and life is starting a fresh, like spring. Oh life, what do you have in store for me? Will I be ready to go back to Los Angeles on the 18th? What is it that makes me want to return? I have a short film that I want to do… Part of me feels like eleven days is not enough. I wish I could rent a flat here and stay for a month or even longer. I like that idea: going somewhere and renting a place for a couple months while I explore, write… And part of me likes the idea of living here in the future.
Prague is so beautiful. It is a magical wonderland. I’ve written to Mother and some friends. I love it here. I’m a bit nervous to be on my own in Prague (as I am now) but I like the city’s vibe very, very much. I think I’m going to get a phone while I am here. To be in contact with Tara and Jaime.
Here are some photographs from that day:
April 13th, 2007
I was walking down an archway and realized that there was a couple behind me. Quickly I stepped to my right and let them pass while taking my camera out and snapped a photograph of them.
April 14th, 2007
Reading the entries before this, I know that it was a good idea to come to Prague, because I feel re-energized.
Jaime, Jack and I walked up to Petrin Hill to met everyone. We had seen Tara the night before with her boyfriend, Steve, and their friend, Rian, who are here to shoot Rian’s movie, “Brother’s Bloom.” I was excited to see Miss. Tara, who is the instigator of this trip; the author; the reason why I ever flew across the Altantic on a whim. “I’ll be there. Why don’t we meet up?”
And boy was it a whim. I remember sitting in the Pig as we looked at plane tickets online for her. We started talking about how much fun it would be if I met up with her. I thought, “Oh, I don’t know. Would everyone be weirded out if I showed up? I only know Jaime…’
But it was fun just talking about it, but then she said, “Well, are you going to buy a ticket? You should fly British Airways. I am.” I thought about it for a couple days. Should I jump on a plane and go to Prague? I thought about going for a week, while Tara was there, but then I decided if I was to go that I’d extend my stay to eleven. I hoped Jaime would be alright with it, which she was when I asked. I have a place to stay. I have the money for the ticket. What was stopping me?
Fear.
But I picked up my cell, called up my Mother’s travel agent and got a good deal on a flight. Bam! I had my ticket in a matter of minutes. I was going to Prague. Holy cow! (However, I might just purchase the ticket myself next time, unless I do a combination of flights.)
Jaime, Jack and I met up with Tara and the crew up on top of Petrin Hill. We all took out our cameras and started taking photographs of the hillside - beautiful white flowered trees peppering the hill with a devastatingly beautiful view of Prague and the Castle. One of the most beautiful views I’ve seen in a long time.
The View From On Top of Petrin Hill
When the film changed locations, Tara and I left Petrin Hill. We took the “trolley” – it’s not really a Trolley, but some space like ride – down the hill and walked past a statue that Jaime had pointed out to me the other day. Not knowing its name, I dubbed it the “Freedom from Communism” statue. (I seem to remember that Jaime said it was called something like that.)
It’s beautiful and affects me differently than most tourists, who have never lived in a Communist Country. If you have any experience with Communism, you’ll be affected. What affected me so much about the statues was that it shows a man walking OUT of Communism. As he moves forward, he becomes more and more of a whole human being. The last man is half a man, while the man upfront is whole. Stunning!
"Freedom From Communism"
Close up of Man
Thursday we spent all day at the Charles Bridge while they shot and Tara and I snuck into the Old Town Square on several occasions. We found a health food store in one of the alleys and would periodically return to it for food. That night a group of us went to a fabulous restaurant called Pravda. It was a wonderful night out. There was a table of maybe ten of us and we sat around laughing and talking and were just in a jolly good mood.
Old Town Square
Yesterday, Tara and I hung around Wenceslas Square (Vaclavski Namesti) and Old Town Square. On my way to meet her, I took the tram from Jaime and Jack's flat to the metro. I had to change from, I think, the yellow to the green line in order to get off at "Museum" stop. Unsure of exactly where I was going, I saw an older woman standing by what I thought was the train going to "Museum." So I decided to approach her and ask her directions... This is how it went, sort of...
- "Dobrý den." I said and I could tell immediately that she knew I was a foreigner. Although my Russian accent is quite good, it did not help me in Praha.
- "Dobrý den." She said with a smile.
- I pointed to the train, or rather in the direction of where the train would be pulling up to let passengers on, and said "Museum, yo?"
- "Yo." She nodded. Great I was at the right spot!
- "Děkuji." I said and nervously walked a couple feet away in order to wait for the train.
Although that conversation was made up of six little words, I did it all in CZECH! Ha!
So, as I floated on my "I spoke six words of Czech and asked for directions" cloud, Tara and I roamed around the Vaclavski Namesti and found our way to Kafka's house, which is in Old Town Square. Not much to see in there sadly.
Looking at Jaime and Jack’s Prague Travel book, I’ve covered the majority of the bases. Maybe I should walk around and take pictures.
April 18th, 2007
I spent yesterday walking through Josofov with Jaron, the 2nd Unit Director of Photography. Great guy! We saw the Spanish Synagogue – where I started to cry, because it was just that beautiful. I was in Josfov ten years ago, when I traveled to Europe with my parents – and remember it quite well. It is, by far, my favorite part of Praha.
Josofov Street
Met up with Kevin and Jessica. We made our way back into the Old Town Square where we went to the Mucha and Dali exhibits. The arwork was placed in different rooms of what could have been someone's large apartment. I wish I had a photograph of the view from one of the rooms overlooking the square as the sun came down over the darker of the two churches.
Afterwards, Wade, Jaron and I had drinks in Vysherad as the sun set over Prague and then he had Thai with a group of people from the film…
Sunset from Vysherad
A photograph I had to take. It was like he was begging me to take it.
I do love Prague. While they were shooting at the Hotel Praha yesterday, I had a talk with Kevin, who said something very inspiring: Watching Rian do his film inspired Kevin to follow his filmmaking dream. As I thought about what Kevin had said, a strong feeling came over me. I am not truly happy in Los Angeles. I want to be somewhere that makes me as happy as Prague makes Jaime. I want to wake up excited about where I live.
But something else Kevin said made an impact as well. Rian was following his dream. We were witnessing his dream come true, after all his hard work. Rian inspired me through example. And so, standing on the back patio of the Hotel Praha, I picked up my phone and called my Mother and told her that I had made the big decision to move to New York or London in 1 to 2 years. When I told Jaron, he said to do it in 1 1/2 years and to make a date… which would be September 1, 2008.
You have to believe in yourself. I have to stop questioning and wondering and worrying and just know that it will be beautiful and good.
April 12th, 2007
So, life is on hold for I am in the Czech Republic, which is quite far away from Los Angeles. I have left so much behind me. I don’t want to go back. Not yet. Not now. Not today.
I feel that life is also beginning anew. That a chapter has been finished and life is starting a fresh, like spring. Oh life, what do you have in store for me? Will I be ready to go back to Los Angeles on the 18th? What is it that makes me want to return? I have a short film that I want to do… Part of me feels like eleven days is not enough. I wish I could rent a flat here and stay for a month or even longer. I like that idea: going somewhere and renting a place for a couple months while I explore, write… And part of me likes the idea of living here in the future.
Prague is so beautiful. It is a magical wonderland. I’ve written to Mother and some friends. I love it here. I’m a bit nervous to be on my own in Prague (as I am now) but I like the city’s vibe very, very much. I think I’m going to get a phone while I am here. To be in contact with Tara and Jaime.
Here are some photographs from that day:
April 13th, 2007
I was walking down an archway and realized that there was a couple behind me. Quickly I stepped to my right and let them pass while taking my camera out and snapped a photograph of them.
April 14th, 2007
Reading the entries before this, I know that it was a good idea to come to Prague, because I feel re-energized.
Jaime, Jack and I walked up to Petrin Hill to met everyone. We had seen Tara the night before with her boyfriend, Steve, and their friend, Rian, who are here to shoot Rian’s movie, “Brother’s Bloom.” I was excited to see Miss. Tara, who is the instigator of this trip; the author; the reason why I ever flew across the Altantic on a whim. “I’ll be there. Why don’t we meet up?”
And boy was it a whim. I remember sitting in the Pig as we looked at plane tickets online for her. We started talking about how much fun it would be if I met up with her. I thought, “Oh, I don’t know. Would everyone be weirded out if I showed up? I only know Jaime…’
But it was fun just talking about it, but then she said, “Well, are you going to buy a ticket? You should fly British Airways. I am.” I thought about it for a couple days. Should I jump on a plane and go to Prague? I thought about going for a week, while Tara was there, but then I decided if I was to go that I’d extend my stay to eleven. I hoped Jaime would be alright with it, which she was when I asked. I have a place to stay. I have the money for the ticket. What was stopping me?
Fear.
But I picked up my cell, called up my Mother’s travel agent and got a good deal on a flight. Bam! I had my ticket in a matter of minutes. I was going to Prague. Holy cow! (However, I might just purchase the ticket myself next time, unless I do a combination of flights.)
Jaime, Jack and I met up with Tara and the crew up on top of Petrin Hill. We all took out our cameras and started taking photographs of the hillside - beautiful white flowered trees peppering the hill with a devastatingly beautiful view of Prague and the Castle. One of the most beautiful views I’ve seen in a long time.
The View From On Top of Petrin HillWhen the film changed locations, Tara and I left Petrin Hill. We took the “trolley” – it’s not really a Trolley, but some space like ride – down the hill and walked past a statue that Jaime had pointed out to me the other day. Not knowing its name, I dubbed it the “Freedom from Communism” statue. (I seem to remember that Jaime said it was called something like that.)
It’s beautiful and affects me differently than most tourists, who have never lived in a Communist Country. If you have any experience with Communism, you’ll be affected. What affected me so much about the statues was that it shows a man walking OUT of Communism. As he moves forward, he becomes more and more of a whole human being. The last man is half a man, while the man upfront is whole. Stunning!
"Freedom From Communism"
Close up of ManThursday we spent all day at the Charles Bridge while they shot and Tara and I snuck into the Old Town Square on several occasions. We found a health food store in one of the alleys and would periodically return to it for food. That night a group of us went to a fabulous restaurant called Pravda. It was a wonderful night out. There was a table of maybe ten of us and we sat around laughing and talking and were just in a jolly good mood.
Old Town SquareYesterday, Tara and I hung around Wenceslas Square (Vaclavski Namesti) and Old Town Square. On my way to meet her, I took the tram from Jaime and Jack's flat to the metro. I had to change from, I think, the yellow to the green line in order to get off at "Museum" stop. Unsure of exactly where I was going, I saw an older woman standing by what I thought was the train going to "Museum." So I decided to approach her and ask her directions... This is how it went, sort of...
- "Dobrý den." I said and I could tell immediately that she knew I was a foreigner. Although my Russian accent is quite good, it did not help me in Praha.
- "Dobrý den." She said with a smile.
- I pointed to the train, or rather in the direction of where the train would be pulling up to let passengers on, and said "Museum, yo?"
- "Yo." She nodded. Great I was at the right spot!
- "Děkuji." I said and nervously walked a couple feet away in order to wait for the train.
Although that conversation was made up of six little words, I did it all in CZECH! Ha!
So, as I floated on my "I spoke six words of Czech and asked for directions" cloud, Tara and I roamed around the Vaclavski Namesti and found our way to Kafka's house, which is in Old Town Square. Not much to see in there sadly.
Looking at Jaime and Jack’s Prague Travel book, I’ve covered the majority of the bases. Maybe I should walk around and take pictures.
April 18th, 2007
I spent yesterday walking through Josofov with Jaron, the 2nd Unit Director of Photography. Great guy! We saw the Spanish Synagogue – where I started to cry, because it was just that beautiful. I was in Josfov ten years ago, when I traveled to Europe with my parents – and remember it quite well. It is, by far, my favorite part of Praha.
Josofov StreetMet up with Kevin and Jessica. We made our way back into the Old Town Square where we went to the Mucha and Dali exhibits. The arwork was placed in different rooms of what could have been someone's large apartment. I wish I had a photograph of the view from one of the rooms overlooking the square as the sun came down over the darker of the two churches.
Afterwards, Wade, Jaron and I had drinks in Vysherad as the sun set over Prague and then he had Thai with a group of people from the film…
Sunset from Vysherad
A photograph I had to take. It was like he was begging me to take it.I do love Prague. While they were shooting at the Hotel Praha yesterday, I had a talk with Kevin, who said something very inspiring: Watching Rian do his film inspired Kevin to follow his filmmaking dream. As I thought about what Kevin had said, a strong feeling came over me. I am not truly happy in Los Angeles. I want to be somewhere that makes me as happy as Prague makes Jaime. I want to wake up excited about where I live.
But something else Kevin said made an impact as well. Rian was following his dream. We were witnessing his dream come true, after all his hard work. Rian inspired me through example. And so, standing on the back patio of the Hotel Praha, I picked up my phone and called my Mother and told her that I had made the big decision to move to New York or London in 1 to 2 years. When I told Jaron, he said to do it in 1 1/2 years and to make a date… which would be September 1, 2008.
You have to believe in yourself. I have to stop questioning and wondering and worrying and just know that it will be beautiful and good.
Wednesday, August 1, 2007
April 10th Prague Journal Entry
April 10, 2007
I have successfully removed myself from my life in Los Angeles. I am in Prague. Can you hear the sigh of relief? Exhale.
Vysherad is beautiful. Jaime and I parted ways an hour ago – she had to go teach one of her classes – and I am sitting in Vysherad Fortress, having just gone into the gothic church and through a famous cemetery that has only artists buried in it. I loved walking through the cemetary, looking at all the writers, composers, artists. I saw Dvorak's grave.
Picture of a sculpture in the Vysherad park
I always have the distinct feeling that I am going to get lost – very lost – but that also happens in my own backyard, which is part of the excitement of traveling. You may, and probably will, get lost. Very lost. But I love it when you realize that you are actually getting to know the city. As you walk down the same twists and turns of some back street over and over again, in whatever city you’re in, you are hit by the realization that YOU know your way around. You remember how to get to your destination. You’re getting to know the city!
I was walking to the Bohemian Bagel in the Old Town Square – great ex-pat restaurant with Internet – and a girl walked up to me and asked me if I knew where the Bohemian Bagel was. First off, I’m a quarter Bohemian – hence the blog title – which means my family is from Bohemia, which used to be a country that was made up of a part of the Czech Republic and part of Austria. My Father was also Russian, so I do look really Slovak. Like I might even belong here?
Anyway, the girl came up to me and asked if I knew where the restaurant was. I smiled and said, “I’m on my way there. I’ll take you.”
She was flabbergasted and we introduced ourselves. “My name’s Elena,” I said, holding out my right hand.
She smiled and, shaking my hand, said: “Me, too.”
Imagine that! Two American girls. In Prague. On their way to check their e-mail at the Bohemian Bagel. And we’re both named Elena.
Side note: I’m not the type of American that makes a beeline for the American Restaurant in a foreign country. I’m actually quite the opposite, but my computer was not hooking up to the Internet and I needed to check my e-mail. And I had already tried to check my e-mail at three different cafés before this encounter...
We walked to the restaurant and checked our e-mails. Well, she was actually signing up for classes at Boston University. Again! BU. I told her I had lived in Beacon Hill for three years while I finished up my degree at Emerson College. I had gone to Denison University for the first two years, but nearly went insane in the conservative Ohio town of Granville. I quickly moved back home to Newport, Rhode Island, for 6 months and then started back at College in January.
[Break from writing… cue Elevator music.]
So, I have left Vysherad and I am sitting in another Internet café, waiting for Jaime to finish her second class of the day. I just smiled at the waiter and said “Dobre Den. ” (Hello in Czech and strangely enough nearly the same in Russian. But that doesn't help, since the two languages are rather different and no one likes Russians here. Again, thank goodness I am a quarter Bohemian.)
Anyway, I just ordered my latte (with regular milk, oh my) and here I am writing again. Right now, I am doing fabulously… I am loving Prague. It is of course sooo very beautiful. There are parts of the city that I do remember from my trip here ten years ago, but most of the time it is like I've never been here. Jamie, Jack and I spent yesterday walking around the city taking pictures. We went to the Charles Bridge and parts of Old Town and had coffee in a couple different cafes and wound up going to see the movie "300" in a cinema here. I can’t believe I saw “300” in PRAGUE!
Picture of a picturesque street in gorgeous Prague
Jaime and Jack are in such a beautiful flat here and I have a lovely little bed to sleep on... I was very, very tired after walking around the city from about 11 am to 6 pm yesterday. I am sleeping on two lovely little comfy mattresses that are piled on top of each other. And I have a nice comforter and a pillow. I am very, very comfortable at night. They live in a loft. With hardwood floors. And a beautiful view of the tops of buildings and a big hill – Petrin Hill – that I guess is part of a park that we've walked past a couple times.
It's good to see my friend Jamie. I guess you could safely say that she is an ex-pat. I have an ex-pat friend... How very, very interesting... Also, story wise... Being here makes me think of a film I wanted to write and shoot in London (when I’m a little older than I am now) that I've been throwing around in my head for almost twelve years. This city makes me think and dream.
Think and dream. What a wonderful feeling. To be somewhere that makes me inspired. I wonder how I can keep that feeling going… It’s like I need a constant change of environment to ignite this feeling. It’s like needing a fix. I could move to London and I’d have a great jump off place to travel from and if (or when) I want to settle down for a period of time, take a break if you will, I can just go back to London… How do I do THAT?
Jaime is in love with Prague, so I am happy that she found some place that she is in love with and happy everyday to be in... She is thrilled here and has been here two years, but it's like each day is her first... "Isn't this a beautiful place to live?" every morning... She walks out the door and says "Oh shut up, stupid Prague" as the puffy white clouds quickly move through the clearest blue sky... and she beams. She beams with happiness here.
I want to beam with happiness.
I have successfully removed myself from my life in Los Angeles. I am in Prague. Can you hear the sigh of relief? Exhale.
Vysherad is beautiful. Jaime and I parted ways an hour ago – she had to go teach one of her classes – and I am sitting in Vysherad Fortress, having just gone into the gothic church and through a famous cemetery that has only artists buried in it. I loved walking through the cemetary, looking at all the writers, composers, artists. I saw Dvorak's grave.
Picture of a sculpture in the Vysherad parkI always have the distinct feeling that I am going to get lost – very lost – but that also happens in my own backyard, which is part of the excitement of traveling. You may, and probably will, get lost. Very lost. But I love it when you realize that you are actually getting to know the city. As you walk down the same twists and turns of some back street over and over again, in whatever city you’re in, you are hit by the realization that YOU know your way around. You remember how to get to your destination. You’re getting to know the city!
I was walking to the Bohemian Bagel in the Old Town Square – great ex-pat restaurant with Internet – and a girl walked up to me and asked me if I knew where the Bohemian Bagel was. First off, I’m a quarter Bohemian – hence the blog title – which means my family is from Bohemia, which used to be a country that was made up of a part of the Czech Republic and part of Austria. My Father was also Russian, so I do look really Slovak. Like I might even belong here?
Anyway, the girl came up to me and asked if I knew where the restaurant was. I smiled and said, “I’m on my way there. I’ll take you.”
She was flabbergasted and we introduced ourselves. “My name’s Elena,” I said, holding out my right hand.
She smiled and, shaking my hand, said: “Me, too.”
Imagine that! Two American girls. In Prague. On their way to check their e-mail at the Bohemian Bagel. And we’re both named Elena.
Side note: I’m not the type of American that makes a beeline for the American Restaurant in a foreign country. I’m actually quite the opposite, but my computer was not hooking up to the Internet and I needed to check my e-mail. And I had already tried to check my e-mail at three different cafés before this encounter...
We walked to the restaurant and checked our e-mails. Well, she was actually signing up for classes at Boston University. Again! BU. I told her I had lived in Beacon Hill for three years while I finished up my degree at Emerson College. I had gone to Denison University for the first two years, but nearly went insane in the conservative Ohio town of Granville. I quickly moved back home to Newport, Rhode Island, for 6 months and then started back at College in January.
[Break from writing… cue Elevator music.]
So, I have left Vysherad and I am sitting in another Internet café, waiting for Jaime to finish her second class of the day. I just smiled at the waiter and said “Dobre Den. ” (Hello in Czech and strangely enough nearly the same in Russian. But that doesn't help, since the two languages are rather different and no one likes Russians here. Again, thank goodness I am a quarter Bohemian.)
Anyway, I just ordered my latte (with regular milk, oh my) and here I am writing again. Right now, I am doing fabulously… I am loving Prague. It is of course sooo very beautiful. There are parts of the city that I do remember from my trip here ten years ago, but most of the time it is like I've never been here. Jamie, Jack and I spent yesterday walking around the city taking pictures. We went to the Charles Bridge and parts of Old Town and had coffee in a couple different cafes and wound up going to see the movie "300" in a cinema here. I can’t believe I saw “300” in PRAGUE!
Picture of a picturesque street in gorgeous PragueJaime and Jack are in such a beautiful flat here and I have a lovely little bed to sleep on... I was very, very tired after walking around the city from about 11 am to 6 pm yesterday. I am sleeping on two lovely little comfy mattresses that are piled on top of each other. And I have a nice comforter and a pillow. I am very, very comfortable at night. They live in a loft. With hardwood floors. And a beautiful view of the tops of buildings and a big hill – Petrin Hill – that I guess is part of a park that we've walked past a couple times.
It's good to see my friend Jamie. I guess you could safely say that she is an ex-pat. I have an ex-pat friend... How very, very interesting... Also, story wise... Being here makes me think of a film I wanted to write and shoot in London (when I’m a little older than I am now) that I've been throwing around in my head for almost twelve years. This city makes me think and dream.
Think and dream. What a wonderful feeling. To be somewhere that makes me inspired. I wonder how I can keep that feeling going… It’s like I need a constant change of environment to ignite this feeling. It’s like needing a fix. I could move to London and I’d have a great jump off place to travel from and if (or when) I want to settle down for a period of time, take a break if you will, I can just go back to London… How do I do THAT?
Jaime is in love with Prague, so I am happy that she found some place that she is in love with and happy everyday to be in... She is thrilled here and has been here two years, but it's like each day is her first... "Isn't this a beautiful place to live?" every morning... She walks out the door and says "Oh shut up, stupid Prague" as the puffy white clouds quickly move through the clearest blue sky... and she beams. She beams with happiness here.
I want to beam with happiness.
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