"Students Ignore God on a Regular Basis."

Dear Emerson Alums, Current Students and Other People who did not attend, either because you didn’t think Emerson was GOOD ENOUGH or you were too poor to attend and said you were too good for the likes of Boston’s Little Punk-Ass Film School:

I get a lot of SHIT for not having gone to film school at USC, UCLA, NYU Tisch, AFI, Columbia University, the University of Texas in Austin or some other prestigious film school... (And I know those of you that either went to Community College or some small Liberal Arts College in Michigan or didn’t wind up attending Undergrad, get it worse...) Everyone has heard of Emerson College in Boston, but it doesn't ever feel like the person you are talking to actually respects you once they hear that you went to THAT film school.

This is a conversation that I have actually had with some wannabe directors (I can say that) while sitting outside my local coffee shop with one of my friends. This time it was my Best Friend, a PhD Academic:

EXT. COFFEE SHOP – LATE AFTERNOON

With his new Cubs hat on his greasy unwashed head, SNOTTY LITTLE B-MOVIE SET P.A./PRESTIGIOUS FILM SCHOOL GRADUATE, 25, sits reading “Directing Actors” by SOMEBODY IMPORTANT and underlining EVERY sentence in the book, which looks like a child drew all over it with a dull pencil.

SNOT occasionally throws out nonsense to his friend, a GEEKY ASSISTANT TO A B-MOVIE PRODUCER/PRESTIGIOUS FILM SCHOOL GRADUATE, 25 and who has a very “naturally whimsical” haircut that probably cost him $200 and thick black glasses that he doesn’t actually have prescriptions for, about being on Anna Nicole's last movie as an Additional Set Production Assistant. He got 4 days towards his book.

Snot: “Yeah, Anna and I got really close. I used to personally make her her favorite drink, a BLAH-BLAH- BLAH (Insert Bullshit Annoying Coffee Blended Drink that takes way to much of anyone’s time making and, in turn, makes your ADs pissed off that your time is being wasted making talent a frothy drink that her assistant should be making just bloody right). We were getting really tight and then….” Fake Sniff and Long Exhale of Pain and Mourning.

Geek: “Man. When did you work with your AD last?”

Snot: “Oh, I haven’t heard from my B-Movie 2nd 2nd AD since we wrapped 2 months ago. I mean, we’re really close. (Knots fingers.) I think he’s just taking some time off. He’s been working so hard and, y’know, there are sometimes so many breaks between movies… Thank goodness.”

I cast my half-closed eyes over to Snot and Geek when I hear the words “Breaks between Movies.” (Really? There are breaks? Not a good sign for Snot and Geek.) I sit sipping my 5th Iced Tea and try to get myself positioned perfectly in the way of the Hollywood sunbeams. (And I mean, actual beams from the SUN.)

Snot (looking at me): “What do you do?”

I look at him. Great. No, What’s your name? Do you live in the neighborhood? Do you have a boyfriend? Do you like the Iced Tea here? I see you’ve had several. Do you smoke? Do you have a lighter? Do you know if Le Brea is West or East? Do you like the food next door? What’s your sign? Do you eat Wheat?

Me (with trepidation): “I’m… in the Industry.”

Snot (Feigns Boredom): “What do you DO in the Industry?”

Me: “Eat Crafty a lot. Walk around set trying not to get hit by a grip, who always screams “HOT POINTS” just in the nick of time. I sit sometimes. Or stand. Or like to wear hats with the Boston Red Sox Logo On it.”

My Best Friend, “Academic PhD Extraordinarie,” chimes in: “She’s a filmmaker.”

Geek: “Reeeeallllllyyy?”

I look at her and smile “Thanks.”

Academic Extraordinaire: “You are what you do.”

Crap.

I look at Snot and Geek: “I’m a writer/director.”

Snot: “What have you DONE?”

Wow, please we haven’t even told each other our names yet and Snot’s trying to “Industry Screw” me. Right here on the sidewalk. In this uncomfortable, broken metal chair that the Manager of the Coffee Shop SHOULD replace…

Me: “I just finished shooting a short film.”

Academic Extraordinaire: “And she’s submitting it to all the big festivals.”

Academic Extraordinaire smiles at me. Ah, thank goodness I have solid, supportive friends… who like to talk. Especially when they see I am thinking about how to not answer the question with a bit of flare and jest.

Geek: “Wow,” which causes Snot to give Geek a “Don’t-Look-Too-Intrigued-or-Impressed-Just-Yet-Look.”

Snot: “We did SEVERAL short films when we went to USC, didn’t we Geek? Where did YOU go to school?”

Me: “Emerson in Boston.” I point to Boston Red Sox Hat.

Snot: "Oh, why didn't you go to USC? Or UCLA?"

Me: "I didn't apply."

Snot (feigned shock, with the look like he’s about to cough violently): "You didn't... APPLY? Didn't you want the best education you could... get?"

Me: "Yes. And I did get a great education… I just didn't want to live in CALIFORNIA at the time..."

Geek: "Then why not NYU?"

Me: "Wasn’t too interested. Only applied to Emerson.”

Geek; “You applied to ONE school?”

Me: “Well, I went to Denison University for 2 years and then transferred out.”

Blank Stare.

Then comes (what they imagine is…) the ultimate insult, which men always have to bring up – either as a way to flirt OR regain a feeling of superiority – because they expect me to answer their question with a simple blank stare back at them.

Snot: “Are you are REAL Boston fan?”

Me: “What would make someone a “REAL” fan?”

Snot: “Where are you from?”

Me: “Newport, Rhode Island. Spent 3 years in Beacon Hill, Boston.”

Geek: “She’s definitely a Native.”

Snot: “A Native does not necessarily mean… a True Blue BOSTON Fan.”

Geek: “Do you like ALL the teams?”

Me: “Yes. I like ALL of them.”

And then Snot asks the question that I have heard many, many times…

Snot: “Name three players.”

Me: “Do you want the batting line-up or their Field Positions?”

Blank Stares.

And then I tell them who is where on the field: Varitek is Catcher, Youkilis at 1st, Pedroia at 2nd, Lowell at 3rd (and how Casey fills in for Youkilis when he is out or when he replaces Lowell) and then Lugo is at Short Stop, Manny Left Field, Ellsbury (or Crisp) Center Field and Drew (or Ellsbury, depending) at Right Field…

Blank Stares.

I top the story off by telling them about sitting at Dodgers Stadium with my friend, Crotty, close enough – I timed in my head – to sprint to the field and tackle Ellsbury (who was in for Drew) before anyone could catch me and drag me away.

For a really, really LONG time, they blankly stare at me...

Me (I get up, smile at Geek and Snot and then say quietly): “Nice Cubs hat” and then walk away.

People (like Snot and Geek) always cock their head to the side when I say Emerson. I sometimes wonder if they are silently asking me (and themselves) if I take my life, my craft, my "talent," my education SERIOUSLY. How could I go to a FILM SCHOOL that wasn't lauded as the ONLY place (amongst 10 other reputable Giants) to learn what 3-point lighting is; how to tell the F-Stop by eye; how to load a mag; to play with a 16mm Bolex; to act in some other poor fools shitty black-and-white silent 4-minute short about cyborgs; or learn everything thing there is to know about the supreme brilliance behind Pulp Fiction, Terminator and Fight Club?

I must have been turned away by the great MALE Academic Owls that guarded the doors at USC, NYU, Yale…

No, I didn't apply. I just decided to apply to ONE school in the whole of the United States of America after I took a hiatus off from my two years at Denison University. (Which is NOT a bad school either!) And I have always found it amazing that you can google "Top Film Schools" and Emerson NEVER shows up... until I read 2008 The Princeton Review.

Not only did WE ALL make the list of schools with the "Top Film & Media Programs," but I am also proud to say that The Princeton Review has listed the "2008 Best 366 Colleges Rankings" and some of those schools that people always say "Why did you go to so-and-so University" didn't even make the list! Ah ha! But Emerson College did, you freaking film school Elitists! In regards to SCHOOLS as INSTITUTIONS OF LEARNING, we made the grade!

So to all those people that say, "Oh, Emerson. Pfft. Really?"

SUCK IT! The Little Guy just got the chance to take all his and her clothing off and streak in JUNE around The Commons and up and down Boylston and cry out "EMERSON ROCKS!"

And for some fun insight into my little alma mater, here is some of what The
Princeton Review wrote in the Rankings & Lists portion about "Emerson College":

* Gay Community Accepted
* Students Ignore God on a Regular Basis
* Best in the Northeast

And, The Princetone Review, also wrote:

"Founded in 1880, Emerson is one of the premier colleges
in the United States for the study of communication and the arts."

So we aren't USC or UCLA or NYU Tisch or any of those
other glossy schools... but we aren't sheep shit!!!

A Lover and A Lie

I am a rather forgiving soul. You can hurt me and I will probably forgive you. If you do it again, I may forgive you again. Some have repeatedly hurt me and I have bared the pain, because I thought the person meant something to me. But there always comes the day when I turn my back on you. Something in my brain suddenly snaps. I have had enough.

This act is done completely. Whole-heartedly. There is no half-guessing my decision when I get to that point. Yes, sometimes it takes awhile for me to get there. Sometimes my thick skull makes it so I go down a long path before I make the decision to change, and in this case, cut someone of my life.

But maybe that is why I give them so much leeway, because I know that when this corner is turned, there is rarely any going back. Maybe that’s why sometimes I have to be hit over the head repeatedly in order to realize what’s going on. Sometimes I have to get a concussion before I change what isn’t working in my life; however, when I do, it’s like a light has been turned on.

It took me four months to get here. But moments after those words fell from his lips, there was something about him that changed. In moments. There was a sharp, sudden difference in life when this change happened. Everything before me changed and all five senses reacted. I saw the World around him differently. My eyes actually perceived him differently.

He changed right in front of me. Although he may have once been handsome to me, utterly beautiful, he was no longer good looking. He may have had the most perfect, chiseled body, but it didn't matter. He may have had the deepest, beautiful brown eyes, but it didn't matter. He might have had the most delicate lips, but that didn't matter. He may have had the ability to send light through my body when he touched me, but that too faded away.

I don’t ever want to touch him and I don’t want him to ever touch me again. Not even in a public setting. Not even as a courteous gesture. My body is off-limits to him now. I don’t want him to touch some place he’s already been. Even if it’s my knee, my hand, my face, my cheek, my hair. There is no reason for him to anymore.

Here, I realize my perception has altered. His weaknesses appear on his skin. Thirty-three years of bad decisions appear on his face. Four years of hell appear at the corners of his mouth. In dark swirls in his brown eyes. His faults and imperfections radiate off him. His smell doesn’t lift me anymore. And, finally, I no longer taste him. Anything that may have lingered has evaporated.

And I never judged him for his past. Or his part in his past. I never judged him for doing what he did. Even when, of all people in the world, I had a reason to. I put aside my own past. I accepted him for who and what he was. And he threw lies in my face. Knowing full well that they were lies. Maybe that is part of the reason this turned out the way it did.

Why is it that you have to sometimes go through hell in order to see the truth? Why is it that you have to hear a complete utter lie come from a man’s lips in order to realize that it isn’t you, but that his self-worth is nearly inexistent? Why does it have to come to you hurting so much in order to take a different road in life?

So this is one way that I react.

Another way is that I completely alter my lifestyle. I woke up at 6:30 this morning – after leaving him standing on the sidewalk at 2 AM – and sat down at my computer. At 11 AM, I will start a daily routine of working out with my friends, John, David and Steve. After today, John and I will start working out at 8 AM. I am ready to get back into shape. I am ready to get back to being healthy.

Another way is that I write about it, as I am doing now. As I have been. I have two projects that I am working on right now and it is like having two roads before me. Both projects are extraordinarily different from each other. While one is more experimental, the other one is based on aspects of this fling. (Word of advice, playboys: Don’t ever screw a writer, she will write about you.)

So, as I sit here, I ask myself: “Which one to take? What story to work on?” Both are worthwhile projects and, somehow, I want to write both. Only thing is that I have to have something ready to show in two or three months time.

So, maybe his lie is a blessing in disguise: Now I have the desire to truly finish what I started.

Let life begin.

We shed old personalities like a snake sheds skin. There are moments in your life where you realize that you are not the same anymore. That the world has altered. That someone is missing. I see that the color of blue has been taken off my painter’s palette. And blue is my favorite color.

A part of my life has been shut off, as if a light bulb in a room has burned out, and the room has gone black. Minutes may pass before you walk into the room to change the bulb, where you are enveloped immediately by the darkness, but you do bring light back into that part of your life.

And it may take you years to even look at the door, let alone walk into the room.

This brings to mind an installation art piece that I wanted to do in college. Within that room, you are surrounded not only by the darkness, but also every possible emotion. And when the light is replaced, you see the bareness of the room’s interior. The white walls. The lack of paintings, furniture, objects, possessions, life. The starkness of the room seems to neutralize every emotion you had been experiencing moments before. Bright and bare, the room holds nothing.

On the ground is a thinly painted red line that makes a circle. A place that you intuitively know is the safest place to stand in the room. In the house. On the wall to your left are twenty-eight locks that seal a door that does not exist, although there is an eyehole through which you can see people, made of a gray-blue papier-mâché, holding frozen positions outside the walls of the room. On the opposite wall is a doorway that leads into another bleak, dark space. A place you know holds more emotion. A place where you cannot change a light bulb in order to bring light to the space. It is a place without light. It is depression. It is mourning. It is emptiness.

Standing inside these walls, you know you will be able to step out into the World again and live. Maybe not today, but you will. And this room brings up the realization that you cannot go back to the way you were living. Even if it was only yesterday. Life changes without you. Life changes with you. And you must surrender to the change.

Strength to change can burn through you as you do it. It can send razor hot lines of pain through your body as you make the decision to not continue living your life this particular way. You can love the color black - the dark, rich, sensual texture of the color - but decide that this particular black is not something you want. It's not something you can afford to have. And you take it off your painter's palette. And the act is not without pain or love. For you can experience undeniable passion with someone who is not interested in the same thing as you are; however, you get up the strength to tell them that you will not continue this, no matter how good they make you feel, because it is only a momentary, limited act of expression. That, in the end, really means nothing.

And how can you fill your life up with nothing? How can you accept only what is stripped down to the bone? How can you feel completed by someone who gives nothing of himself except his physical self?

People have told me to be careful of what I ask for. But I don’t worry about him changing. It would be foolish – it would be insanity – to think he would. And maybe, knowing this, I can move forward. Knowing he won’t move forward with me.

"Silent under the pressure of the sea” - Amanda L. Wilding

In a small row boat, in the midst of a vast ocean with no sight of land or other vessels around me, I let the waves rock me back and forth. And I stare at the surrounding blue. Where the light sky meets the darkness of the water. And it is not a graceful meeting between sky and water, but a severe contrast. As severe as emotions can be. Divided, intersected, broken by the crisp line of the horizon. By the suddenness of a passing second that can never be repeated or changed.

Art breathes existence and precious meaning into life. It keeps you rowing. Pushing through pain, disappointment, uncertainty and doubt. Ignoring the fear of tipping over. Into the unknown temperature of the blue water. Where numerous creatures live beneath the rippling surface.

And I jump. And, from one boat to another, I swim. Again and again and again. Sometimes twice in one intense day. Sometimes after the passing of several quiet months. Regardless of how tired I am, I jump. I always do. It is the only way to achieve change in our lives.

Change requires this sort of a jump. Change requires courage and faith. And you do not know how long you may tread water without the reassurance of a life jacket. And you do not know what swims around you. And you do not know when a slightly larger boat may come your way.

But a boat does float past and you lift yourself out of the water with a newfound, unknown strength and climb into the safety of your new vessel. And you wait until it is time to jump out of it again. Because that time will come.

Since I was a young girl, maybe thirteen or so, I have used this metaphor to explain the way I look at my life. And last year has been filled with a series of jumps and tiring days of treading rough water.

These waters have been filled with love affairs, friendships, excesses. The sea ebbs and flows with these moments. The waves rock us back and forth. Causing us to sleep. Or be sick. Last year, my strength to hold on did not stay constant. My pulse raced and slowed. My blood boiled. My tears came in steady, uncontrollable streams. I sobbed last year. I cursed everything I knew. I wished the most terrible things.

Several boats have been filled up with experiences that have forced me to grow. As an individual. A person. A filmmaker. A writer. A woman. A lover. An intellectual. A human being. A soul.

I aged another year. I cut my hair. I went Raw and changed my lifestyle. I started to run. I took up pilates. I broke people’s hearts and shattered their dreams. I gave other people opportunities. I started a company. I have been cheated on. I made love. I have been the player. I have hurt a man. Or two. I have gotten under the skin and buried myself beneath his veins. I have caused him to feel like he is bleeding to death from within. I have not wanted to let him leave. And he hasn’t and he has.

But these are the two most important and significant moments in 2007, as well as in my life: I experienced the beauty of finding ones artistic voice when I made “The Weight of It.” And I experienced the excruciating pain of loosing my best friend, Amanda, on December 10th, 2007.

Above all things, Amanda’s love, friendship, loyalty and the memories I have of our eight years of friendship has opened my eyes to what is important about why I am here. On Earth. In Los Angeles. In the film industry. About why I chose to move 3,000 miles away from my parents, my best friend and my other friends. About why I felt this sort of sacrifice was worth this sort of separation.

And Amanda knew where she wanted to go. We were both going to be successful writers. A few months ago, she reminded me of the time we met and I introduced myself to her: “Hi, I’m Elena. I’m a writer.” And she said she was impressed by my confidence. And I was thoroughly impressed by hers. I was always inspired by her. Of her knowledge about what boat to swim to. Of what direction to go in.

Sometimes our boats would float side by side. We would spend long hours, days, talking about the fears we had about jumping into our work. About our worth. About our abilities. About our talent. About our strength. We were exceptionally alike, her and I, although we took different paths in our lives in regards to our writing careers.

And we both have our enormous insecurities, especially in regards to our work; however, we were growing as artists. As writers. And, like myself, she knew exactly what she was about. And she never apologized for it. She never backed down. She was first and foremost a writer. She is one of the most amazing poets I have ever read.

Next to my parents, Amanda was my biggest fan. And I hers. We read each other’s work constantly. We critiqued and edited each other’s work. Since college, we had the dream of forming a modern day “Bloomsbury Group” and I still can’t imagine her absence in my personal, literary and filmmaking life. We had a mutual admiration society. We were starting a Literary and Arts Magazine together. We were going to make a place for ourselves in the Literary, Art and Film World together.

We were going to do so much more together.

The Raw Food Lifestyle

Today was my first day doing the Raw Food Lifestyle. So far, there have been a series of hits and misses in regards to food, but I do not feel unhappy about my choice in changing what I eat and drink.

I have spent a great deal of time looking up Living Raw online and have been pleasantly surprised by the number of positive thoughts that surround this way of life. Everyone seems to say, “Do it!”

A few years ago I did a three-week vegetable/juice/protein shake detox that made me feel fabulous and, after it was over, I began a very restricted way of eating that involved eating mainly nuts, seeds, fruit, vegetables, brown rice, and meat. I was walking six miles a day and had a wonderful schedule that involved waking up at 6 A.M. and journaling for a couple hours before I began my work. (I am a writer.) I was writing for about ten hours a day, with two days off a week, which I tried to keep open for strictly fun stuff.

Soon after this lifestyle began – and I call it a lifestyle, not a diet – I was then diagnosed with Celiac Disease, which restricted my diet enormously, and Candida. I went on a stricter diet that involved limiting my fruits, as well as my vegetables…

Well, that lifestyle lasted for quite some time, but I soon got derailed with personal problems and started eating badly this summer… But now I have decided to reclaim my old eating lifestyle, with some major changes to the old regiment. I am going to adopt a 100% Raw Lifestyle that will include eating seeds, nuts, fruits, veggies, and a number of other things, like superfoods. I adore sushi and I do realize that some 100% Raw people eat raw fish, but, with the oceans being as polluted as they are, I question the health benefits of one of my favorite foods.

It’s amazing how important it is to have a streamlined lifestyle in order to be a successful, happy, healthy individual. And I don’t want to use the word “restricted,” because then I am setting myself up for failure. I have so many things that I want to do with my life and I know making sure that I am healthy will help, aid, propel me forward in my work. Our bodies are our vessels, our machines, our temples, and if we don’t take care of it, we will not work the best possible way we can. If you don’t put the good gasoline in your car, it won’t work as well as if you had.

When I was shooting my film in October, I stopped doing Pilates 3 times a week and now I am going to go back to that schedule, as well as start running with Tara T, who is also going (back) on the Raw Food Lifestyle. We will support one another through our journey. We will do it at full speed and not half-assed.

I put the photograph on the top up in order to show me at the beginning of this lifestyle… Stay tuned to see how this decision affects me – physically, emotionally, mentally, psychologically – and I will keep you posted on how this decision of mine is working out for me…