Hollie Golightly

Dear Irene... a love letter

2011-08-27T23:06:00.005-04:00

Hello Irene,

Listen, can I level with you? Speaking as a former Floridian... can I just say, I think you might be a little lost. Don't be embarrassed, it happens to me all the time. I'm trying to get to my usual haunts here in NYC and I say 'hey, let me try getting there a different way. See something new.' But um... I've never gotten myself so lost that I ended up in the wrong state.
You see... this is where it gets a little embarrassing. Florida is actually behind you. All the way down there. See it.. kind of looks like a wang. Yeah. So down there they are waiting for you. They expect you every summer, even if you change your name and temperament. They know it's you. They know how to treat a lady such as yourself.
Here in NYC... for get about it! Half the people won't take you seriously and the other half will be so scared of you that they'll just freak out. Believe me it's not worth it. But more importantly everyone is just going to be pissed at you. Not a great first impression I'm afraid.
Because of you the MTA shut down.... I know right! Like, NYC without subways? Yeah! And I personally can't be indoors for two days straight. It's making me stir crazy! Because of your grand arrival I have to be... for my own safety.
I'm sure you are a reasonable lady. So, was just wonder... well... okay... we were all just wondering if you could kindly f of. That's right, get the f... out of here. No body wants you... so I don't even know what you are thinking. Is it like a joke? Because it isn't funny. I mean, we just had an earthquake. I don't know what's more ridiculous.
So give us a break and go home. I mean, I shouldn't be getting calls from my family in Florida saying they are worried about me... here... in Brooklyn. It's just, I don't know, backwards. You know? Are you going through something? Is that it Irene? Do you need counseling? Because I could recommend someone... in Georgia or Florida maybe but not here. Acting out is never the way. So please... Irene just do yourself a favor and stop. Please... and thank you.

XOXO

H

Puppets, Poe, and a Plague! Oh my!

2011-05-31T21:33:00.001-04:00

I might as well have fallen off the face of the earth by my lack of posts or been taken up in the rapture... although something tells me I would have been left below... if you know what I mean.

While I finish up graduating from my second masters, making a promo video for CCNY educational theatre department, and getting ready to direct theatre at an all boys sleep away camp in Maine... (you heard me correctly) I thought I'd invite you to this... one of the many projects I have been working on... that have kept me from posting.

So if you weren't scared of the rapture you should be scared of the Plague.

Presented at: Brooklyn Arts Exchange (BAX)
421 Fifth Avenue, Brooklyn, NY 11215

Dates: Friday, June 24th at 8:00pm
Saturday, June 25th at 8:00pm
Sunday, June 26th at 6:00pm

Tickets: $12
To purchase tickets, visit:

http://www.brownpapertickets.com/event/169290weeblylink_new_window
Cast: Katherine Chua, Carley Colbert, Alexandre Correia, Candice Fortin, Cesa Kobe-Smith, Sahar Muradi, Clare O’Sheeran, Garret Scally, and Lyle Walford

Directed by: Jennifer Onopa

Music: Culley Johnson

Puppetry, Mask, and Set Design: Emily Leshner, Ryan Minezzi, Jennifer Onopa, Melanie Paterson

Lighting Design: Jason Zanitsch

Dramaturge: Hollie Rosenberg

Hive Mind Theatre: http://www.hivemindtheater.com/index.html

Shameless Self Promotion!

2010-11-07T17:51:00.005-05:00

It gets to the point where you've had all the turkey meals you can stand, too much time spent with the family you never see, except during this time of the year (and that's on purpose) and want a night off... come out SATURDAY NOV 27TH at 8pm for a one night only event. You will laugh, be turned on, maybe cry a little? And go back to laughing...

It will rock your world, spin you upside down, shake you all around and put you back down again (and that's only in the first ten minutes.)

A night of Sexy Shorts has 6 new short plays all exploring the theme of "SEXY". Each play is written by a different playwright, has a different director and some different actors.

Only $15.00 and not only do you get entertained but you help support a new non-profit theatre company. So you can be entertained and feel good about yourself.

If you can't make it but would still like to help us out... click here to donate. Even a buck helps us... seriously. We love all kids of money... to learn more about the theater company go to www.secondfigtheatre.org

Hollie In Motion

2010-06-10T11:51:00.013-04:00

Last year at this time I was unemployed and bored out of my mind. I spent almost a year not doing much of anything. Now I don't even have time to sleep!

Luckily, today (or part of today is a day off.) So I caught up on sleep, did some cleaning and now I'm trying to think back... how did I get from stir crazy to overworked?

I think it began when my friend DG was like ‘hey come be my bitch at work’. Okay, well maybe not in so many words but I was essentially her Bitch and it was great. I got to do random things for her at her job (and she isn't one of those annoying people who turn into a nightmare when they have authority over you) and sure they were mindless boring tasks but I have no problem with that, especially when you get paid the right wage and don't have to deal with strangers on a phone. Mostly it was fun because I was working with my friend all day. But like most things in life that are enjoyable it was... temporary.

At this point I had begun working on my second masters for Educational Theatre and was taking 5 classes at night. Which seems a bit crazy but listen, I have a masters already, what I want now is a job! I want to get done so I can teach. Luckily, my department head emailed out an opportunity to us that I jumped on. This got me my substitute teacher license and a gig for the rest of the school year at a high school in the city. Which was easier said than done.

The DOE messed up my application and what should have taken a few weeks took a few months. It was a nightmare! At the end of it all (which I don’t wanna get into because it’s just annoying to think about) they said ‘oh you had your file number all along, our bad.” Meaning I jumped through hoops for nothing. Thanks guys! So with something like 3 months left of school I began working at my new gig. Luckily, the temp job at my friend’s office went longer than she originally thought. But the bad part was I was working full time and taking 15 credits and did all those courses for my substitute license.

Essentially I was working from 8 or 9 am (depending) until 10 pm at night because I had classes. The classes are an hour and half away from my apartment. So needless to say I haven’t gotten much playwriting or directing done this year. I am proud to say I did get good grades. I don’t know when I had time to do my homework but I guess I found it because I got 4 A’s and 1 B. The B is because I had no idea what was expected of me in this class and it didn’t really click. But whatever… it’s grad school and I was never a straight A kind of a girl so this is pretty damn good for me.

And the second classes ended I hopped on a plane in-between the volcano and British Airways strikes and headed to my old stomping ground. London. I was there to graduate from my first masters. Yes, I’d been done with it since September but I guess these things take awhile. They actually gave us our real diplomas on stage, which is why I had to wait months for the ceremony. It was at the Guildhall, which was pretty cool. After we went straight to a pub and stayed there from 4pm to 10 pm in true British fashion. I made a whole trip out of it and stayed 10 days, I thought it would be longer because my flight home was cancelled 3 times due to the strikes. But no such luck, they just kept moving me around the same day.

While in London playing with Han and Vick I saw some plays and took one last look around not knowing the next time I would be here. We even made it up to Stratford Upon Avon and Warrick Castle so I could play in history. But alas it was a short trip and I said goodbye to my second favorite city.

Now officially a graduate of City College of London I have no excuse to go back… I mean I’ll think of something but it was like… well this part of my life is finished. And really it is. So much is changing now and I think one day I’ll look around and say how did I get here? But right now I have no idea where ‘here’ will be.

Billy's Birthday Bash

2010-04-24T21:05:00.011-04:00

(Thank Ilana for capturing this moment!)

All's Well Theatre Company (I co-founded) celebrated Billy's (Shakespeare) Birthday with booze, trivia, and cake at Bar Nine in the city.

Several of us dressed in costumes inspired by Shakespeare... none of our guest did... so we didn't do the costume contest like we had planed but if we had Renee (our Development Manager) would have won. She was the first to arrive and wouldn't come out of the bathroom until the others were there.

Everyone in the bar was a little confused by the horde of (obvious) actors dressed in a variety of costumes. But we didn't let that stop us or our guests from having a kick ass time. We even sung our hearts out to Billy. (As seen by the video above. With him even blowing out the candles). The cake was made from scratch by yours truly (Although, I had my doubts...not being Betty Crocker and all... and I had spent an hour looking online for a recipe for a yellow cake. Wouldn't you know it today I got my "Cook's Country" magazine in with a recipe for homemade yellow cake mix! A day to late Country! Of Course) But no worries... the cake was also a hit!

This fundraiser has really helped us get some much needed doe-ray-mi's... although we still have a long way to go! (Theatre is expensive!)
One of the guest said "Hollie how are you ever going to get a big house someday with this job?" Her friends who are actors looked at her and said "You do this because you love it... you have too because you'll never make money from it." And I said "It's true, that's why I have a day job to support this one!" Also, since it's a nonprofit I can't make money from it... that's called illegal. So while I'll never had my jet or house in the hamptons I do have my artistic freedom... (excuse me while I go to a dark spot and cry a little.)

So donations are always welcomed! All’s Well Theatre, Inc. is a nonprofit 501(c)(3) organization, and as such your donation is tax deductible to the extent of the law.

2010-04-07T11:31:00.012-04:00

I have a crush! Now don't be jealous All's Well Theatre baby... I'm only looking. I wouldn't cheat on you or nothin'.... but you know... a woman does have needs... I'm just sayin' and sometimes she needs those needs taken care of.

So I guess you're wondering who I'm crushing on... It's this dude named Vampire Cowboy. He's pretty bad ass... but he's funny too and charming... and though he smells a little like blood and sweat... I kind of like it.

Last Sunday GT and I went to see Vampire Cowboys new production "Alice in Slasherland" by Qui Nguyen and Directed by Robert Ross Parker (The Co-Artistic Director/Co-founders). This production pretty much blew my mind! It had cleaver video use, lots of blood, great acting, witty banter, some really scary moments and great use of stage/set. I was surprised to learn that they only do one main stage show a year in the spring. I don't know their process... do they develop the show with the actors or for them? Don't know. Don't care. I just know they kicked ass. That's my official review. They kicked ass. I'm not going to go into a long blah blah blah over the show because it wouldn't do it justice. For the types of shows they create you have to really see it and experience it for yourself to appreciate what they do.

In the past 5 years living in NYC I have seen soooo much crap theatre that I am so glad to say last week I saw three great shows. Besides my new crush I also went to see The Amoralists production of Happy In The Poorhouse by Derek Ahonen. This show was really very engaging, the acting, set and direction were all top notch. Also the space Theatre 80 St. Marks was glorious! And I want to put up a show there right this second! It was an actual theatre space with a curtain and everything! Which seems hard to come by in this city... off of Broadway that is. (Although, don't get me wrong I love the Here Arts Center space that my crush did their show at too but for different reasons. It's playful and intimate and I would very much like to play there.)

Speaking of Broadway the next night I scored an even pricier free ticket to the Broadway show Sondheim on Sondheim at Roundabout Theatre Company which was amazing! The set design was really something to see (Beowulf Britt). All these video screens that moved around the stage and created a playing space for the actors with a video of Sondheim (designed by Peter Flaherty) narrating his own life while Barbara Cook, Vanessa Williams and Tom Wopat with five other very talented singers sang their hearts out... did I mention I was sixth row center?

This was the best theatre week ever. I want more!!! All's Well baby if you don't give me a show soon I don't know... I just may need to... find it else where!

My Bill

2010-03-29T13:05:00.009-04:00

So it's spring break and its miserable out!. Which is actually for the better because my entire week consists of me sitting at my desk reading and doing a ton of homework. I have about 1,700 pages to read, two papers, eight journal entries, a unit plan and two lessons to create before Friday! So if it were nice out... I think I'd be crying.
I put on my over sized raincoat and headed out to the mail box to send out a DVD I made for my aunt. As I'm walked by our mail sitting on the steps I'm thinking 'why is our mail wet?' Then I walk to the mail box down the street and I see why. The mailman just left his cart, full of every ones mail, out in the rain... without closing the flaps on the cart! Not only that but he didn't even bother walking the extra step to leave it under the building overhead while he went inside to deliver mail.
I swear this douche did it on purpose. He's also known to just leave the cart in the middle of the sidewalk... where ever he pleases... rather than over to the side and out of the way, ugh don't get me started.
So I was annoyed... grumbling to myself... when I stuck my hands in my pocket and find money!
So of course I'm like 'who cares about peoples wet mail I found money!' Yey! $3 whole dollars. I immediately thought 'okay what can I spend this on' when I see a red stamp on one of my dollar bills. "See Where I've Been" and on the bottom it shows the site "wheresgeorge.com" Um where have you been all my life?
I've always wondered where my money had been before it reached my pocket. Mainly to know if I should wear rubber gloves when handling it or not.
So I quickly logged the bill into the site (and No... crazy tea baggers or far right republicans... I don't think this is a liberal elitist conspiracy to track my every move and bring down mankind as we know it.) And it turns out my George... not the one playing video games in the living room but the one from my pocket is from Minneapolis, MN. It also tells you the miles and time it took to get to you.
Granted I don't know where it's been in-between because no one logged it in but that's still pretty cool.
So people if you get one please play along. The more people log where their money has been the better we can all see the journey this little guy has had. And mailmen/women please put your carts to the side and close them properly... especially when it's raining. And that's my two cents for the day!!

(As you can see I really don't want to do my homework... when it's your second masters the thrill is gone... probably like having a second child...or a second marriage... been there done that... )

My Bill - click here to see where my dollar bill traveled from.

Working Girl

2010-01-13T20:37:00.003-05:00

I was so desperate for money that I actually thought about becoming a stripper.
Okay, maybe I didn't think about it for that long but the idea did cross my mind.
I’ve been unemployed for a year as of January 1^st and it isn't like I haven't tried to get a job. I applied to several jobs every day. Out of that I got one interview a while back. It was actually for a job I really wanted, as an Office Manager for a historic small theater company in the West Village. I even got a second interview and then it came down to me and one other person. Well, obviously I didn't get it. Of course.
So a few months later I found myself working part-time at my school (I'm going for my second masters, this time in Educational Theatre) as the attendant for the Computer Lab. I was there for two months before I quit. It paid practically nothing, was boring as hell and it took me 3 hours travel round trip. Not only that but I couldn't believe the behavior of my fellow college students. One guy came running in and started tapping on the keys of all the computer, then huffed his way over to me and angrily said "Do any of these computers work!?" I smiled back at him politely and responded with " Yes. All of them, but you have to turn them on first." So much nonsense! And then they fought over printers and paper and “Excuse me where is the on button to the computer?” (This was the Education Department. These people will be teachers, responsible for shaping the minds of our future leaders. I found it all so depressing, so I left.)
I tried to get back on unemployment but the Lady who got to decide if I go on it again told me I shouldn’t be turning down any job and take anything offered to me at this point. Anything? Why do I have a Masters Degree with tones of experience to take anything I can get? Where did all those cushy jobs, with no real responsibilities go?
So, just when things were getting really bad my friend asked me (out of the blue) if I wanted to work for her. It's a lot of data input, really boring stuff she tells me. Like I care? I was just considering taking my clothes off for some money. Like Gary Coleman I even went online and sold my possessions on EBay. Unlike Gary Coleman, I'm not a morbidly fascinating freak show and didn't sell a darn thing.
So, I started this week at the Commercial Real Estate Office. It is boring work but you know what? I was surprised at how much I enjoyed it. I get to put on big girl clothes again, go to an office everyday, fight fellow commuters for the last seat on the train, over eat at my desk, have way too much candy, listen to office gossip, have my friends as my boss and most importantly… make a normal salary! (But it’s only temporary. That’s how they get you.)
I always thought 'No, I want to be starving artist and live in NYC!' But listen to me when I say that is horseshit! Soooo overly romanticized. First of all, I live in Brooklyn, not Williamsburg or Park Slope Brooklyn but way out in BFUSA Brooklyn. And for the record, no one can live without money, and there is nothing good about having to owe every one, while dreaming of all the artistic things you want to do but can't because you don't have any extra mullah and when you do earn it you know you don’t get to keep a single dime. Well let’s see how long I can stretch this temp job money. Although, there is an Off Track Betting store by me... hmm

It's officially the future!

2010-01-04T12:22:00.008-05:00

At around 12:30 am on January 1st my mother calls me from Vegas and says "Where are you tonight?" I respond with "In the future."

When I was a kid I often imagined what my life would be like in the Space Age. I thought I'd have a fancy flying car, a personal jet pack, perhaps magical powers (hey anything can happen in the future) a TV in the palm of my hands (Yey! At least that one came true!) and a Mansion because I was gonna be mega rich and famous (for what I don't know). Well 1 out of 5 isn't too bad, right?

I spent my leap from 09 to 10 at my friends pad in Brooklyn. We played board games. Girls vs. Boys. Boys cheated... what a surprise. It's okay though, we took it easy on them anyway so they could win (that's my story and I am sticking to it). Then we watched Kathy and Anderson for the final hurrah. I got my kiss from GT at midnight and that was that.

My friend who is a Waitress at a club in the city worked that night. She was scared that if she didn't get a kiss at the stroke of 12 her year would be devoid of sweet lovin’. So she apparently scoped out the crowd trying to find the right one to break a years curse (actually five years of no NYE kisses). Apparently, she found five takers (which is a little ironic).... the draw back though was that the kisses were all on the cheek. I don't know what that means for her this year in terms of lovin' points but having five kisses instead of one, no matter where it was, can't be a bad sign. These are future days anyway. So pretty much anything can happen.

Several days into the future and life is good. I have launched my theater company All's Well Theatre. I was asked to send my play SCRAPS to a theater company in Colorado because they were intrigued by my Query Letter that I had sent them a few months back (no one ever responds to those things, so maybe this is a future perk? Now in the future Playwrights who don't have agents can get a break?) And I may have a temp job lined up... one baby step at a time to my riches! So all and all I think future Hollie is going to be very happy with this new Space Aged world. Happy 2010 all!

And in the future we all wear Snuggies (blankets with arms or a backwards robe... these are wacky times)

Chrismukkah

2009-12-28T21:46:00.012-05:00

I made the great Jew migration south this year to celebrate Chrismukkah (or what should be American-Chrismukkah) with my Jewish family in South Florida. Normally, this interfaith holiday is celebrated because a family consists of... well, interfaith. But mine is all Jew. We just like Christmas. And no we aren’t Jews for Jesus… those are called Christians. In fact we don’t think of it as the J man’s B-day at all. I know a lot of Christians were really going off about that this year... that it’s so commercialized and that the white house calls it a 'Holiday Tree' and so the war on Christmas wages on. But seriously? We live in America. If it’s not about buying something than it isn’t a real holiday, now is it?

On Chrismukkah my family gathers at my Aunt’s house where we have all different types of bagels, a ton of white fish, a pile of lox and cookies and brownies galore. We put up a fake Christmas Tree (Or Chanukah Bush or Yule Tree) and hang a Jewish star on top that usually lights up. Although this year our Holiday Tree turned from pristine white to puke yellow. Time in the warehouse had not been kind to the six-foot fellow. So it stood for one more time before we had to send it to Plastic Tree heaven. Under it sat the gifts that are always wrapped in various holiday papers, to show that we don’t discriminate against Chanukah, should some of our real Jewish relatives come over. But a few of the presents do say ‘from Santa’. My family likes to have the kids believing in Mr. Claus. Right now it’s my five-year-old cousin's turn.

The family goes out of their way to keep this myth alive for him. They feel he has the rest of his life to be disillusioned, so why not allow him some time for make believe? But something perturbs me about a Jewish family going as far as writing a letter from Santa to keep their little boy believing in him. What makes it even funnier is that his father is Israeli. When he showed any annoyance to his son’s belief, the boy said and I quote “ I am an American citizen and have the right to celebrate Christmas.” Somehow, he now associates Christmas as an American right. I guess it’s somewhere in the first Amendment but still... he’s Jewish. I doubt he understands what Christmas was originally intended for. He just knows he gets presents and some man named Santa, who is overweight and dressed in red and white and lives in the North Pole, rides around giving out handouts.

But thinking about how Christmas all began makes me think, okay we aren’t that strange. And maybe if everyone who gets angry about the supposed changing of Christmas in America, where families who celebrate it only for the gifts and fun bits and don't want the religious aspect of it shoved down our throats anymore, needs to remember that it was originated by Pagans who were celebrating the Winter Solstice, which started tens of thousands of years before the birth of Jesus (or Jewish Zombie as GT and I likes to call him.) The early Christian church decided to create Christmas around the time of the Winter Solstice so they could convert Pagans to Christianity throughout the Roman Empire. So really we don’t have a Christmas tree, we have a Yule tree. And it would seem my family isn’t embracing Christianity, they are embracing Paganism. Which makes me feel a little better about things. Although, I still don’t understand how this guy named Santa who seems to be a recluse for most of the year, shacked up in the North Pole with a lot of elves, has anything to do with Winter Solstice or the birth of Zombie Jew. But however you want to justify it Santa was alive and well in South Florida this year, even though we have no fireplaces.

When I was a little believer I asked my mommy “How does Santa come into the house if we don’t have a chimney?” My mom quickly answered, “He comes in from the air conditioner vent.” Somehow I let that one go. My lill' cousin had the same question for my aunt this year. Which I was surprised to learn, she didn’t think he’d ask. So she thought for a moment and responded “I think he comes in through the opening in the ceiling that goes into the attic.” To her relief that answer seemed to do the trick.

But I wonder if this need to force something magical on a child will end up kicking them in the butt? Won’t he become disillusioned? Not only with life but with his loved ones for lying to him? I don’t remember ever really believing in Santa or the Tooth Fairy or God for that matter, so I can’t say what effect this will or won’t have on his development. But they scoff off my cynicism anyway and say he’ll find out the truth in school and that will be the end of it. It certainly will. I’m just impressed that he got to age five, in the age of instant knowledge, without finding out the truth. But this is America and the truth is whatever the majority of the people want to believe it is.

Flower like you mean it.

2009-12-07T23:52:00.003-05:00

It's been a busy few weeks. I officially received my masters in Creative Writings Scripts from City University of London, Passed my LAST (Liberal Arts and Science Test for Teaching certificate in NY) I passed my Specialty -Theater Test for same certification and got accepted into another masters program. This time for Educational Theater. I also started a theater company called All's Well Theatre and have been hired to Direct a show at the Producers Club in the City (more on that soon.) So I thought why blab on when we can all kick back and enjoy the dancing styles of Eason the Sunflower....

An Apple a Day Keeps the Debt Collectors Away.

2009-10-12T20:09:00.004-04:00

When did I become so busy? I spent a year twiddling my fingers trying to make something happen and all the sudden things are flying at me in all directions... but it's not a step forward, just a step to the side.

With the ink drying on my thesis play I decided to go back to school (again) and get a masters (again) in Educational Theater. I realize this may seem like a silly idea... I mean, how many masters does one girl need? Well, the way I look at it the MA for Playwriting was a personal accomplishment for myself. I have always been a playwright and knew if I actually studied it maybe I would become better at my craft. And although I haven't received my results from my thesis play yet, I know I have accomplished this goal. But now it is time to think of the future.

In reality playwriting is an expensive hobby. I look forward to the day when it may be my occupation but until then a girls got to eat. And I am so over all the mindless assistant jobs where I work toward an unseen goal. So much to my mothers delight I decided to peruse a teaching degree (in theater). So far I'm digging the whole thing but I'm only in my first semester, so who knows. I'm just thinking to myself when this is all done, I will never leave school, granted I won't be a student anymore but a teacher... if you only knew how far I have come...

Passion of the Jew

2009-08-24T19:02:00.014-04:00

No sooner do I finish and submit my thesis play dealing with (among other things) Anti-semitism in 1940's America, do I get a forwarded email from my Mother, asking me to sign an online petition for the removal of a Jew Hating Site - from google's search engine.

Apparently it is one of the top sites that appears when you google the word "Jew". I won't give you the link because I don't want to encourage people to click on it, like the email kind of did.

If you get an email asking you to sign a petition isn't your first response... ''Wow, I wanna see what the hell is on this site that has people so pissed.'' It was for me. I clicked and of course it was your typical White Supremacist Conspiracy Theory Loons that think Jews are trying (or have) taken over the world.

One - thing I never understood with these allegations.... If Jews are in charge, how would they let over 6 million of their own die in the Camps? Also, You (meaning the loons) out number the Jews. So why are you so scared? (Thanks impart to the father of all Jew Haters, Hitler). Seriously... why are they scared of a minority?

Second - would a Jew world domination really be so bad? I'm not saying it would ever happen but... really? There are a lot scarier groups of people out there to worry about.

Third - if Jews were trying to destroy the world... by the Loons stereo types, wouldn't they have done so by now? If they control the media, stock market and everything else in the world, wouldn't they have already carried out their sinister plot for mandatory Bagel Fridays and enforce everyone to observe the Sabbath? Meaning everything would be closed on Saturday and not Sunday? Wouldn't they move to a much nicer place than Israel, like Hawaii or the Fiji Islands? Wouldn't they get rid of the Loons all together? Wouldn't they.. I don't know be larger in numbers? And more importantly wouldn't I get a piece of the action? Instead I'm uninsured and unemployed. Wouldn't my Jew connections / power help me to succeed? And I'm horrible with numbers... just saying.

Fourth - Jews aren't one nation or a group of like minded people. In fact they are very divided amongst themselves. You have the Orthodox Jews - Hasidic Jews and then you have your run of the mill Conservative, Progressive, Reform, Liberal, and last but probably not really last you have Cultural Jews. People who are raised Jewish but don't practice. In fact they probably eat pork and non Kosher food. (Like me) and love Christmas decorations and playing dradle, dradle for money and avoiding all religious stuff. (Okay, maybe those last bits are only me. But you get the idea.) No two people are alike. So how could a small mass of divided people pull off such an amazing overtake without at least having a group meeting. And if there was a meeting can you imagine how amazing the food would be? Mmmm nothing like deli style when you are plotting to take over the world. With plenty of Lox and cream cheese. Of course, if it ran out, then the organizers would never hear the end of it. Maybe get a few letters from a lawyer or two... I mean Jews, right?

I'm a Jew out of guilt and tradition. In fact I'm more of an Atheist these days but I still think of them as my people. My family. And when you come after my family, you come after me. I don't believe in anything spiritually but I do have a moral code. A code I live by. And not because some one told me to, some one like Zombie Jew or Moses or the Torah or a Rabbi or even my Father or Mother... for me it's simple. We live in interesting Modern times. So why do we still have to be scared of the unknown? Why blame unfamiliar people for our problems, when the only person who can ever really be blamed is ourselves. Not Jews, or Muslims or Republicans or okay even Crazy White Supremacist (Oh wait I already said Republicans). And don't blame everyone white and bald for one small group or every one black and tall or Jewish and nebish because one certain person did something bad to you. And don't hate because it's what your parents taught you. I was taught many many things by my parents that I happily and independently choose to ignore. I don't hate the people they hate, that hatred is centuries old. So far all throughout history it hasn't done anyone any good. So why not let it go?

Who knows why this person or people started this site. They are obviously scared / cowards. Hiding behind the screen. If you are so scared of Jewish power, why not get to know some real Jewish people and let this monster image go? You can talk over your fears with a plate of knishes. Doesn't that sound much nicer?

And Mom, sending the email around with the link to the site will only up their google rating. Because like me, other people will want to know what they are fighting against. And maybe I'm the paranoid one but what if this site sent the email themselves to get such said hits? And when you click the second link for the petition, where it says name and email address, how do you know they aren't collecting the information to log all the Jews... again? And if we the Jews were really in charge... how would the Hater even get to put up their own website?

Seriously Mr. Hater... it's okay to have freedom of speech but what you are doing is flaming the fire for a much larger problem. Though you think people should know of your wacky ideas, these ideas have killed in the past, and unlike what some people think, they can kill again now and in the future. Fear is more powerful than hatred. But both should be dealt with rationally before they get out of control.

So Google Executives perhaps their is something you can do to help the mighty Jews? Apparently, when you control the world all you can do is send a petition around and write lengthy blogs. Seriously, world domination and that's the best we can do?

Dark Nemesis by Zandelle

2009-08-11T18:09:00.004-04:00

Here is the second music video I edited for the band Zandelle called "Dark Nemesis"
That's right, in between my playwriting I edit music videos. Hey, a girls got to keep busy. Right?

Start to Finish

2009-08-04T21:07:00.008-04:00

This play has been is a year in progress. While I understand it takes some people years to turn out a good product, unfortunately I don't have that luxury. (Not this time anyways.) The clock is ticking and if I can pull this off I get my Masters and some street cred.

The problem isn't that I've spent the whole year procrastinating. It's that I spent the whole year focusing on character, accuracy of dialogue (as it takes place in 1948 Georgia). Also, are my scenes tight? Does every bit of dialogue move story forward and not over inform.... basically all the small bits have consumed me. But while digging in the dirt I forgot to take a step back and view the whole picture. Frankly speaking… my garden seems a little uneven. (And no that’s not a vajayjay metaphor.)

I think it's important to always have your plays read. Not necessarily out loud, or by other writers. In fact sometimes it's good to just give it to a person who would be an ordinary audience member and gage from their response… is this working? Now you can't base all your rewrites on this one person's opinion, so you give it to several. And yes, different people equal different problems. But at least you get a new perspective. (Some maybe so new you wonder ‘did you read the play I gave you or are you winging it?’)

I gave my play to GT to read. Of course I was hoping for him to bound into the room exclaiming it was the best thing that I ever written. No… the best thing he ever read! But he came bounding into the room and he wasn't happy. "Okay, can you explain to me what I just read?" That's a huge red flag. I have two weeks... did I mention that? That's right. Two weeks to turn in an amazing, well-crafted piece of art. Now, he didn't think it was all bad. In fact he did say it was the best thing I ever wrote... I'm not sure if that's a compliment at this point but he meant it as one. When I worked through his reaction to it, turns out he really did think it was good but... good is subjective and he's my boyfriend… and boyfriends know better. (Sometimes.)

The problem is, my well-constructed characters and their B stories have overtaken my A story. My structure is out of whack. Story of my life. I've always had my own way of telling stories that seem a little off kilter. As a student I feel it's my duty to learn to tell my stories in a classic structure. Once you master painting the bowl of fruit you can move on to Cubism and all that funky stuff... It's my personal belief you have to master the basics before you can leap ahead. As a kid I had a high level of reading comprehension but couldn't (and still can't) spell to save my life. My teachers would look at my well thought out essays, which showed I had a high level of understanding, while my spelling blocked the message. And so I would get a C or something over all while a side note would say the content was an A worthy. Well it’s no surprise that this is still the case (I'm working on it.) But now instead of just the spelling issue it also relates to my ability to write a well-structured piece. The characters and message can be brilliant and original but it can also get lost if it’s not put together well.

I've done rewrites in the past where I take the first draft and chuck the whole thing. Not looking back I plow ahead. In fact I did it on this script. It's come leaps in bounds from when I started. In my usual fashion I had multiple scenes, in all different locations, with wild plots and characters having baby daddy issues so I have learned to let the entire amateur habits go. I moved the play to one setting, one time in space (yes it even time traveled before) over one day, with two acts and continuous action.
While I was upset at GT for finding all the faults in my script when I thought I was done with it (having spent the year shedding all those excess baggage) he did help me see the bigger picture. You can have a play set in one time and space, tight scenes with well thought out characters and still have a major issue. All my B stories need to eventually feed into my A story. Not only that but I'd have to loose some more of the play. Aspects that weren't moving the story forward, or helping the characters arch. So out they went. Or out they are going. And you know what? I feel relieved. I am almost done with Act 1 and it's only Tuesday. Luckily, I'm still unemployed so I have the time to get this script ready. So why am I writing about writing it, when I should just be... uh writing it? Well.... I know what I need to do to the script... I'm just not sure how.

When GT was done giving me all his feed back he said "You know, I'm only telling you all the things you told me when you read my novel. I learned all this from you." I looked at him and thought, ‘I taught you something and you admitted it?’ (He must have really hated it.) Well, can I teach myself the same lessons? Maybe I should time travel back to a place when I was giving GT feedback on his book and listen in.

Playing at the Players Club

2009-07-28T11:19:00.023-04:00

I held a human skull yesterday at the legendary Players Club. Believe me, I wasn't expected it. The Players Club was formed in 1888 by Edwin Booth... big brother to John Wilkes. This old gentleman's club smelled like leather, dust and old man juice. Not that I've smelled old man juice before but I would imagine it would have the same kind of muskiness about it. So of course, I was delighted to see it hadn't been touched too much since Booth died up in his room. Which I stood in... but I'll get to that later.

The reason I ventured into the Gramercy Park town house was because of Johnnie Planco. For those not in the world of theater and film Johnnie is the man. That's pretty much it. He's a Manager and former William Morris agent - who has represented any major star you could think of. He was there to talk to us (The Old Vice New Voices New York Network Members) about life, about theater, and about the business of both. For an hour he told us about his humble beginnings, of being in the right place at the right time, and how you have to pay it forward. He was engaging and funny but more importantly told us some fun celebrity stories. One of Jack Lemmon injuring little old ladies with his gold balls. Frank Sinatra getting drunk with him until two am, and telling him what he should name his unborn son at the time. Kevin Spacey's dog peeing his career away. Theater greats playing bridge and joking about the women they had affairs with…. but mostly he talked about how people helped him early on for no reason but to pay it forward. Someone had helped them and so he learned reaching out to the next generation and giving them a push is how the industry continues to grow. He was inspirational and I enjoyed it very much… and immediately thought would he read my play? And looked around at all the other aspiring, actors, writers, director’s producers all thinking how can we corner this guy? But Johnnie’s no fool. He hightailed it out of there when his talk was done. Having been an agents assistant, to another former William Morris employee, I had to call Johnnies office at least once a day and thought ‘well I have his number… he did say we are driving our own careers and to be pushy but not aggressive… but I’ve never had that chutzpah... I’m a bit of a chicken shit. So once he finished his spiel he left us in the hands of the head of the players club to give us a tour. Did I mention the chandelier made of horns? I might have forgotten that bit.

So I think it was John Martello, the Executive Director who gave us the tour. Short, round, funny man in an oversized brown suite, you know the type. Who when asked by one of my peers (when he was naming all the portraits of the past members, like Barrymore, Helen Hays, and Booth) where his portrait was, I hope ironically… John, without missing a beat replies “I think they’re going to put mine in the men's room." Oh to have a sense of humor.

So we wandered around from old room, to old room, looking at antique props, a ton more portraits of theater’s greats. Then we get to this room on the third or fourth floor. It's the muskiest of them all. The air is still, the heat over welling and you think holy crap, who the hell died in this room? Well, that would be Edwin Booth. The room is roped off in the center.

To the right you see a small bed with a canopy, a day bed next to it. A dresser with family photos from the 1800's. An old dictionary and a death wreath. All the bedding is decayed but still amazing to look at.

You turn to your left and you see a table, fireplace, some more desks, and bookshelves with antique toppings. (Sorry my descriptions are so vague but it was a lot to take in…and you can just look at the picture. Or just imagine grand, rich words, old wallpaper, crown moldings and stifling heat.) Because we were a large group he had us file in past the red ropes - into the living space. I noticed out of the corner of my eye was a scull sitting innocently on a bookshelf, as if enjoying the tour. (It’s at the very left corner of the photo.) And as it sat listening intently like the rest of us John, nonchalantly turned and reached for it.

He began to tell us that before the time of film and even radio great theater actors toured around (as they do today) but in this time it was the only thing people got, so they knew their Bible versus and they knew their Shakespeare. That's it. And sometime in the 1800's, a horse thief asked before he was killed that his scull be sent to Junis Booth (that's Edwin and the Lincoln Killer's big daddy. Also a famous drunk actor in his own right.) So he, the thief's skull, could play ‘Yorick’ in future productions of Hamlet. Well, no one knows if big Papa Booth used this new prop piece but Edwin, certainly did. He even signed it when he finished the tour. Now John says to us, holding the skull as if it's nothing but a prop, "And this is it. The original skull." Then he passed it around. I tried to avoid it but it was impossible. It was like playing hop potato... and I did no want to be the one to drop it. Could you imagine? I'd have been notorious in the theater land. Banded from the Players Club before I was even a Player! No, I held that thing, which felt lighter then I imagined. A shiver went throw my spin as John also told us "Oh and Edwin died in that bed, right there." So not only am I holding some horse thief's skull but also I'm standing in a dead guys room? It's a good thing I love me some theater or I would have chucked that corpse and made a break for it. But I didn't. I smiled and tried to hand it off as quickly as possible.

After the tour we filed into the tiny bar. I saw Lisa Kron and a really famous old actress, with sharp pointy eyebrows (I can't remember her name) but the were chatting innocently with their drinks. Other grey hairs sat around enjoying their diner and game of pool. I looked around for a familiar face but didn't find one. Since I'm as broke as a joke I left the drink line and made my way out. The doorman looked at me surprised, "Are you leaving?" I almost felt guilty. "Yes I said," in what I felt was my tired voice. "I have to get home." Thinking I could look like a busy, important person… right? I don't think he bought it. Instead he gave me a look like he was saying "Girl, you crazy? There is some hard core networking going on in that room." Yea, that's right you can say that much with just a look. But guilty or not, I’m not a networking type of a girl. I mostly stay to the side looking awkward and boring. So why do it? Having had enough interaction for the day I headed out onto the street. The humidity and fresh air nearly knocked me on ass. I was in the real world again. If this had been a movie that town house would have decayed behind me... hidden and bored up. But it hadn't. It was still there with grey hairs moving in and out. I thought, one day I’ll be a player… but until then… well… better grow some balls and look up Johnnie's info. But first I had to wash the ‘Yorick’ from my hands.

London Underground Falling Down

2009-06-26T11:12:00.006-04:00

It's good to have a cell phone again. In this day and age to go without your crackberry for 3.5 weeks deserves some sort of medal. Which I'll accept.

After my trips in and out of doctors offices I had to work on my extract for the showcase. The main reason I flew to London in the first place. Even though I am living back home in NYC I am still in my second year of grad school at City University of London. I've been working on my thesis play which is due Sept 1. Then I will be done... But I had to fly over this June to showcase a scene from this unfinished play.

The school hired a director and well established actors. We had two days of rehearsals/ rewrites before the big shebang. While I think all were very talented in this process there were two things I could have done without.
1. The Tube strike (why of all days did the London underground decide today we will stop working?) - the funny part was after I took a 2 hour bus ride for what should be 30 mins. journey I found out that no... the Northern line (the one I was off) was still working. Seriously London? You come to NY and find out what a subway strike is all about. The last time I had one was on my first day of work temping as a Kennedy's personal assistant. She didn't believe me when I showed up six hours late because I had to walk from Queens to the Upper East Side. So in retrospect the subway standstill on a big day for me... should have expected it.

The second issue I had was the Director had the actors get up and move on their feet for the reading. Not just read the scripts from a stationary position. Generally in a staged reading the actors sit. And the playwrights stage directions are read. I would have preferred that but instead the actors did their own makeshift blocking... flying by the seat of their pants so their interpretation and emotions got in the way of my words. Which isn't a bad thing but it brought some lines that were meant to be subtle to a strange and bold place that made it laughable. If their focus hadn't been make up our own blocking as we go the invited industry could have heard the script the way I intended it... but this is theater right? So if it were a full production it's good to know that's the problems with my script. So I mean while I didn't like it for the showcase I enjoyed it for my rewrites. I can hear some of the problems clearly.... I just didn't need the BBC to hear it...

After the showcase finished which was like a snap of the fingers we went to our local school pub where the only industry guest that followed was there prowling for girls not really interested in our work. So I can't say it was a waste of a trip over because I did discover my next draft in the rehearsal room but didn't forge any success for the future. And I had a tone more adventures right after the showcase from Cornwall to Scotland and everything in between....

Hollie vs. The NHS

2009-06-04T09:05:00.006-04:00

So when I was back in NYC I couldn't see a doctor because like most out of work Americans I have no health insurance. I had to just hope my dizzy would stop long enough for me to fly to London. Lucky me... it did! But only a few hours after my arrival it hit me hard.

When I woke up from my 12 hour nap my friend HR called the NHS help line. (That's the UK's health care service hotline) Of course they had to call back because there was a large queue. Several hours later I get a call from a nurse named John. A very lively chap. I told him all my symptoms and he sat for a moment. Then he did something very unexpected... he let out a small laugh and said "I donno. Never heard that before. How unusual." Really John the nurse? You never heard of people getting dizzy after they eat? Then I thought 'what the hell is wrong with me if the health care hotline hasn't heard this one yet.' I would imagine they would have heard of far stranger things than that.

So he classified it as a non-emergency which meant I couldn't go to the ER. I had to first go to a walk in center. He told me I should wait until Monday as well so I could go to one with a GP. The ones open on the weekend just had nurses. And as he didn't know what was wrong with me he felt they wouldn't either. (But not being able to eat... isn't that an emergency?)

This meant two more days of spinning in my head. Well, I spent the day/night in bed after a brief trip to the park where we sat in the sun and worked on our piece for the showcase. After a while we switched from the park only filled with dogs running loose to the Common which was filled with a sea of bodies. We found a place to sit but had to keep moving as the sun went behind the tree and it's shadow grew and grew. In the shade it felt 10 degrees colder and when you're wearing only a Tank and skirt that's not the best feeling in the world. But I seemed fine until we got back inside and I ate dinner.

On Sunday HR made more calls to the NHS. We found a walk in clinic with a GP on staff. It was close to her flat, clean and more importantly... empty. Now by this point my intake of food was... well... lacking because it made me so panicky as well. Which means I was very weak... like anorexic weak I would imagine. I was living on banana's. The only thing that didn't make my head turn. But this Doctor who was not a native English speaker called Dizzy "Izzy". I kept correcting him thinking does he understand what I am saying?

He took my blood pressure, my blood sugar levels, listened to my heart beat, listened to my symptoms. At one point I thought I was going to black out so I pulled out a banana. "Are you eating?" He says and I think.. shit he hasn't listened to a word I said... just nodding his head!. "No" I reply and I saw it in his eyes. He thought I was anorexic. No fool... I love my food that's the problem here... my body is the one stopping me. Okay not helping my case here... So after a few minutes of hardly anything he says everything seems fine. You may be hypoglycemic. But I don't have diabetes or take medication so that's highly unlikely. He went on to say I need to go see my GP. I was like I don't have one that's why I am here. He said I should register with one. I'm on a temp visa can't do it Mr. So HR asked if he could refer me. He said no. So why was I there? Defeated we headed back to her flat where I looked up hypoglycemia and just decided to follow the diet. At least it's something. It mainly consisted of very small portions many times a day. No sugar, alcohol, white flour, or caffeine. All my loves in life.... gone.

HR made me a tiny salad and I ate it slowly. I'm not a natural slow eater. This took time and practice to get right. Normally with two big fork fulls and the thing would have been gone. But I caught on and ate slower than I ever thought possible.

And that was my first weekend in London, having to eat hardly anything and just staying in bed as HR called NHS half a dozen times. But it was clear they weren't helping. So she called her mom, her dad, her brother, her sister-in-law. Everyone said 'is she pregnant?' Apparently that's how they all found out they were... but no. I'm not pregnant. Seven sticks don't lie. Well, they didn't know beyond that.

HR then called her own doctor and asked how could I register. First I had to prove that I lived in her flat too and show my passport. Well... I do have a student visa and I did live here for a year... a year ago. So HR decided that Tues she would take me to the doctors and if they wouldn't see me then we would go to the ER.

But this was a day away... so far the hypoglycemic diet was working. I wasn't dizzy as of late just very very tired and light headed with a massive headache... and fearing the worst... a life with out sugar, caffeine, and alcohol! How could this have happened?!

London Bridges Spinning Round...

2009-06-03T05:16:00.005-04:00

I made it to HR's flat with my 50 pound bag and everything in one piece. We had a few hours before her Arch Night started. (An event of various acts her theater company puts on now and then.) So I didn't take a nap. I just opted for some food. She made me a proper British breakfast of beans, toast and eggs. After several bites it hit me... dizziness. Now this had been happening for a week or two. Every time I ate I get dizzy for hours after. So I had to stop - even though I was hungry. Slowly it faded though which was good because it's a shitty feeling to have. Especially when you haven't slept in two days and have a massive headache.

We got showered and dressed so we could meet up with V at the pub. It was a beautiful day still so we sat outside. I got a Pims - which I love and caught up with V and HR. But somewhere around the bottom of the cup I felt the dizzy return. I had to stop drinking. Then I saw someone order a huge burger and I thought maybe my iron is low. I'll have what he's having. So after a short wait I got one and gobbled the meat up. At that point it didn't effect me.

After a bit we went to the venue for the event. V and I waited to the side as HR did her producer thing. It was then that it hit me hard. I turned white and felt like I was going to fall over. So they gave me some coke a cola but that only made it worse. It was official. I had to call it a night. The rough part was I had flown in early just to see this event of HR'S! But defeated by whatever was happening in my body I had HR walk me back to her place. Once my head hit the pillow I was out for 12 hours. I guess I needed it. But unfortunately that wasn't the last of the dizzy.

TAKE OFF - It's LONDON TIME

2009-06-02T13:06:00.008-04:00

I'm pretty sure I've beaten my fear of flying. That is until I read online that a plane from Brazil going to France just disappeared over the Atlantic ocean. How does a plane with 200 and some people just disappear? No distress signals. Nothing. Like they evaporated in flight? I can't even think about it. That's probably one of my worst fears.
I have three more flights to go over the next few months and the whole time I'll be thinking "Am I here or did we go down so fast I couldn't even register it and now this is limbo and we are never going to land! Maybe if the foods good I can take it."
Days before this happened I rode calmly and quietly in the back of a black car waiting for the long over night flight to see my old friend Big Ben.

Surprisingly, this time I didn't use the taxi service GT's Mom had on file. The last two times we called them it was some beaten down car with a driver that probably had a few drinks before picking us up. I always thought the car was their home and I wouldn't have been surprised to see bottles of pee rolling around. On the upside we did learn a lot about the mafia and his former homes through out Brooklyn as he speed and swerved. However, this time I was traveling alone and I wanted to reserve my fear for the flight only - not release it all before I even had my luggage checked. So I called Dial 7. Well, actually I booked it online a day before. It was convenient and turned out to be a very good move.

The night of my travel I got a call from the Driver saying he'll be five to ten minutes late. Well, that's not a big deal I thought. I booked it early anyways. So when ten minutes passed and he did arrive I thought okay this is gonna be an easy trip. After he helped me with my huge suitcase and off we went in the plush leather seating. The driver drove calmly, no hint of anything on his breath, no "history" lessons as we drove - just silence. To me that's the best way to go. I'd rather space out than have to make chit chat - Where are you going? Where have you been? And how the Driver thinks that place has it's faults like in their home country.... Blah Blah. Just drive.

The airport had a huge line. I always just walked in but this time it was a wait. Right behind me was some elderly pushy Eastern European couple. Every inch I moved they were right their on top of me. Even putting their suitcase practically on mine wherever I stopped it. Personal space isn't in some vocabularies - is it?

At the check in they said my bag was too heavy so I was that girl opening my luggage to the world so they could all see I packed my period underwear while my ass cracked beamed brightly to the others waiting in line behind me. Probably gritting their teeth thinking who is this arsehole repacking in the airport?
That would be me. Finally I juggled my many tank tops and shoes into my carry on - allowing my luggage to just make it through. There was no way I was going to spend 40 bucks to allow for 10 more pounds of impulsive packing.

The rest of the wait was just dull. I changed my out going message on my cell. Got into a tiff with some British bloke who tried to cut me in line at the little store. You know... the norm.
However, boarding the plane I noticed a middle aged couple - couldn't make out where they were from but they just side swiped the check in process and snuck behind the counter to board. I looked around asking with a puzzled look ' did anyone see that?' I thought 'oh no! Who are these people boarding my plane!' But I'm not a Republican so I didn't go shouting the T word around. Even though if they had done racial profiling they would have fit the bill. That's probably why they tried to just board - so they wouldn't be harassed in the process.

We sat on the plane for a good hour before take off. The captain said we were number 21 in the Que. Apparently JFK was more congested than the highway surrounding it. No surprise there.

Up we went and I was so shocked that I had not even a twinge of fear! The whole ride I was like 'I can do this.' Heck put me on the wing and lets see if I can hold on. I was so confident I even fantasised about going skydiving. Well.... briefly. After what felt like days I looked down to see the shores of Ireland. It was actually the first time I had flown in to the UK that it was a clear day out. The view was breathtaking and I thought - why did I put my camera in the over head?
As much as I enjoyed the view over Ireland and the rest of Britain when it came time to land I was over it. But then we had to literally circle the airport waiting for our slot to land. And our plane circled and circled and circled. It was on a tilt for a good solid 15 mins! I thought I was going to upchuck the weird apple pastry thingy they called breakfast. Actually, I was always very impressed with BA's food but this time it was like every other plane. What happened British Airways? I've only been gone a year. Not only that but this plane had to be a good fifteen to ten years old. The inside was falling apart. It wasn't the usual two story one with the fancy video menu that let you pick any movie and TV show you wanted to watch anytime. No. This was turn on - turn off and most of the flight the entertainment was turned off. Why did I spend so much money for service I could get on American Airlines? Lets just hope the flight back is more the norm.. and not an airbus that can just disappear!

We landed safely and quickly once they got the go ahead. And I'm not gonna lie - some butterflies did come back because that drop was - like I said - quick.
When we were taxing I noticed the other BA planes were being let out by an unfinished terminal and the passengers were boarding buses and I thought shit.
So of course the same was true for us. We waited in the parked plane for what felt like forever but was probably really 10 to 15 mins again. We get out and squeezed onto the bus. By this time it's late morning in London but only 5am in New York and I hadn't slept on the plane. I also had the worlds biggest headache. So I shuffle onto this bus and waited for the rest of the plane to follow. Off we went around the airport. Then at the terminal I raced to immigration. This is where the semi good trip went bad.

In line another bloke just cut me. What is with these British men? Can't stand behind a woman? You have a Queen for christsakes... should be used to it. Of course because of this it meant I got a different immigration officer than I should have. Now no one on the plane gave me the immigration card and it had been a year since I flew international but I vaguely remembered having to fill one out. So I found some and being so sleep deprived couldn't make it all out. I filled in what I knew.
This immigration officer I got wasn't having it though. "Why isn't this filled out right?" I looked at her with vacant eyes and shrugged. She huffed and tried to hand it back to me but changed tactics mid stream. 'Where are you staying?" Again I shrugged "My friends house?" She glared daggers at me. "Where's your return ticket?" She grumbled. "In my email." I say as stone face as possible. This is when she lost it. "What do you mean?You come here unprepared? You're supposed to have all this information ready and waiting!" Then she looked at my passport. "What are you doing here and for how long?" "I'm in my last year of school. I've come to finish." "Your visa is expired! Why didn't you renew this?" I didn't know what to say at first. "It's a three year Visa - it can't be expired." She holds it up. "What does that say?" I read it and of course it ended in '08.' "And what year is it now?" she barked. "09" I said defeated. Then she went off on me some more. Well sorry lady, I really did think it was a three year Visa. 'I'm tired. My head hurts and I have a 50 pound bag waiting for me to drag all over your fine city.' But I don't say any of that. I just whipped out my blackberry and hoped it would turn on. I found the email where HR gave me her address of where I would be staying. The officer wrote it down and then grilled me on how long I would be staying in her country. Only three weeks I pleaded. "You won't be trying to get a job here will you?" Then I knew how a Mexican felt. "No" I say in my now humble expression. I knew tears wouldn't work on this lady. She just wanted to dominate and have her subordinates thankful but not teary eyed - that shows weakness. I apologized a hundred times. She takes it in. There was a good solid moment where I watched her way the options. "I'm gonna give you a temporary Student Visa... this time. But I almost sent you right back on that plane. If you come back you get your stuff sorted!" Once that stamp hit paper I grabbed my passport and ran like the wind before she had time to reconsider.

My luggage came right away and out I went hoping HR would find me. Of course she was on top of it, with an extra tube pass waiting and ready. It was so strange. It hadn't felt like I had ever left London. Granted I didn't remember any of the train lines but it was slowly coming back. As we raced to the trains I thought this is gonna be fun...or at least something to write home about.

Where's The Soup Performance

2009-05-23T12:06:00.003-04:00

Well for those of you who missed it here is the short play WHERE'S THE SOUP by Robert Anthony... Directed by ME!! Featuring Eason Smith, George Tsalikis and Robert Aloi at the Producers Club in NYC in 2009.

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

FLAMES OF RAGE

2009-05-05T12:09:00.003-04:00

okay world hold on to your scull and bones belt buckles because here is the first ZANDELLE music video (which I edited.)

FLAMES OF RAGE

I'll Show You Mine If You Show Me Yours... but make it good

2009-04-20T11:12:00.004-04:00

Ah, NYC Theater you tickle me you old Slag.

Having to see your friends in shows is part of a deal you strike when you enter into this world of make believe. I'll show you mine if you show me yours kind of a thing. But what happens when it's a bad show?

Well it happens.... a lot... and after a while it's like how are these plays getting put on? But they do and sometimes it's your own. That's when it becomes really awkward to run into someone you know seeing a mutual friends show. This person you run into has seen your last production and thought it was the worst thing they had seen in years. Well... so of course you hope this show you are about to see, sitting side by side, is more horrific than the thing you put on last.... and guess what... it was... okay you caught me... this wasn't a scenario of what ifs... it was a real - true life situation.

The funny bit about the night was him telling me of his having to tell his friend (an actor) about the interesting space he had performed in... in order to avoid saying the show was a piece of crap...but he was talking about my show! And saying this to my actor! GT and I weren't sure if he realized it. I mean my show wasn't that bad but just that one performance he saw. The actors weren't into it, lines were dropped and the audience... all four of them were giving them nothing... so yes that night it wasn't what it should have been but if this guy had come to the weekend performance - like you always should - he would have seen a very different show! A really good one in fact with an actual audience giving the actors some mojo to pump it up a notch. But I doubt that was the case with the show we were watching right then - side by side - judging our friend for just wanting to work. Not caring if it was worth it. I don't think it would have mattered what kind of audience this show had - it just didn't work...

But it's getting to the point where I haven't seen many good shows lately and I wonder why is that? We love theater... all of us who do it... that's clear... but does our enthusiasm for "hey look at me" get in the way of putting on good art? Or good entertainment? We just want something - anything up and running rather than just sit and wait for the right thing to maybe come along... I don't know... I do it too. You take opportunities when they come because you're scared another won't. But... maybe it's time to start thinking about the audience... money is tight... this leads me to the question as a playwright what is it people want to see? And how do I do it so they enjoy it... see with every bad show you see comes important lessons of what not to do... or if it's your show - what not to do again...

Copy Cat

2009-04-12T10:24:00.003-04:00

Of course... recently three plays that are on stage in NY and London strongly resemble three plays I've published or am currently working on. I should be happy to know I am writing relevant plays (which is one way to look at it) or I can be bitter knowing that now if anyone reads my plays they will compare them to these other shows. They'll think 'how cute she can't be original so she took a used plot and made it worse...' I'm not a name and I don't have an agent and I'm still pretty young - so how could I compare?

I was innocently eating my breakfast while watching the show On Stage where they did a review of Chasing Manet, a new comedy at Primary Stages by Tina Howe.
Synopsis:
Inside the confining walls of Mount Airy Nursing Home, a rebellious painter from a distinguished Boston family and an ebullient Jewish woman form an unlikely bond and plot an escape to Paris aboard the QE2. Can they possibly pull it off amidst the chaos of their surroundings?

GT and I saw this and he like ''hey look it's Bedpan Palace.'' Which is my comedy about the Sagging Willow Nursing Home where a rebellious elderly Jewish woman named Rose, who was forced to live there makes an unlikely bond with two other women and they plot to escape. This was the first full length play I've ever written at age 22. It's been done in Brooklyn and I published it in 2007. - But no one wants to do it. I sent a query everywhere and got responses back like 'we don't have old actors. ' I'm thinking so what? Can't you make them look and act old? That is not out of the realm of possibilities for an actor to do... to act! But after so many rejections, any no one wanting to even read it, I moved on. What did I move on too?

My thesis play which I am still writing is due next week. But the problem now is Neil LaBute has beaten me too it! His play Wrecks about "Edward Carr, a cigarette-sucking businessman with a passion for vintage automobiles and the woman he loved, are unfolded in conversational stream of consciousness as he stands by his wife’s coffin." - BEN BRANTLEY.
Okay, well the story isn't really the same but my play is S.C.R.A.P.S. about three Jewish siblings in 1948 who inherit their fathers failing scrap yard. But there is a cloud of mystery surrounding their fathers death, and his involvement with a wealthy Christan woman in town. It all takes place on the scrap yard. So it's close but not too close... just the title is similar.

Then the third play is an original rock musical I am writing with GT. It's called Jail Bait. About three under age friends who sneak into a club to catch their favorite rock band - but the lead singer, who was a child sensation, now older, is over the idea of fame and is on a path of self destruction. Now add the usual groupies, over jealous girlfriends, greedy promoter and fame driven musicians - who populate the club seen - you have what will be my rock musical. But then I was reading Playbill.com like I do every morning and I saw and add for a show called... what else? Jailbait! It's a play (not musical) by Deirdre O’Connor - who is part of the Cherry Lane mentor project (which I really want to be apart of.) Her play centers around:
"The story of two fifteen year old girls who spend a night at a Boston club posing as college students. When the girls cross paths with two thirty-something men they must decide how far they are willing to go while playing at adulthood."

It's just like... these are what I have and someone has done them first... probably better or whatever. It's so frustrating as a younger playwright because no one will really give my scripts consideration like they do with represented playwrights or ones form Brown, Julliard, NYU, Columbia. If you don't have that ivy backing you then you can't really be any good... is what it sometimes feels like... but being bitter won't get me anywhere... so I'll just keep writing. (And I plan to apply to Juilliard next year...)

I probably will see or read these three plays that resemble mine so I can learn from them. What did they do that I didn't in telling my story? How did they structure it? What characters did they introduce that I didn't or did and how did they write them differently? Playwriting should never be a competitive sport. It's a craft. All you can do is learn, make mistakes and hopefully grow. Also, something to remember - just because you may have the same title, theme or premise - what makes a play original is the authors voice. No two people will ever see anything exactly the same. So I better get back to it... because in the end I'm the only one standing in my way... (oh this is too schmaltzy... I think I need a coffee first..)

Socially Awkward

2009-04-06T22:03:00.004-04:00

I'm a new member of the Old Vic New Voices New York Network, which is comprised of aspiring/emerging actors, directors and writers. They have a branch in London made up of the same type of people but 25 years old and younger. It’s a network club started by the Old Vic Theater. When I was in London I was 25 years old but didn’t get involved, so when I came back to New York I saw they have a New York branch that goes up to 30 years old. So of course I was all over it. I’m thinking I may be too enthusiastic about it. Sometimes that can make for a bad first impression.

So far I’ve been to two events. One was at William Morris with agent Cara Stein talking about what it means to be a good client and how to work/deal with agents. The second one was last night at Theater Row where they assembled a panel of Artistic Director's; Robert Ross Parker of Vampire Cowboys, Maria Striar of Clubbed Thumb, Lucy Thurber - Playwright of 13P, Christian Parker of The Atlantic Theater and The Old Vic’s Artistic Director Mr. Kevin Spacey himself! At both these events I just made it in before they started and noted the packed rooms. I should get there earlier so I get to mingle a bit and perhaps talk to the speakers before hand, not to mention getting a seat right up front would be nice! But this hasn’t been the case.

On last nights event the talk ranged from how they started their companies and the difficulties in maintaining a smaller theater company. Well, for Christian Parker who was moderating the talk his theater is in the opposite end. They are pushing to make it over their normal budget. But then again the Atlantic Theater doesn’t accept unsolicited scripts so it was interesting to hear the differences between them and lets say Clubbed Thumb that does accept. Maria admitted she reads up to page 20 if the script isn’t very good. That’s actually very nice of her. I usually give to page ten when I work as a reader. But there wasn’t a lot of insight into how a theater selects their plays because that’s not what this talk was about.

This was a workshop billed as “FORGING CONNECTIONS, BUILDING COMPANIES”. Most of the conversation was around their personal experiences, I noticed Lucy Thurber had a lot to say, which I found interesting as a playwright. At 13p they plan to dispend after all 13 playwrights put up their shows. Her show is up this time, so she is acting as artistic director. They take turns. Which is an interesting way to work a production company. I was surprised they have a $35,000 budget because recently I saw a community theater production of the Producers, which had $45,000, which is huge for Community Theater, but I remember thinking besides the orchestra where did they spend it? Ah location, location, location. It’s where most of the money runs away to.

But any who when questions were opened up to us members they got to the topic of building a relationship with companies. One over eager actress asked Robert of Vampire Cowboys why he hadn’t responded to the headshot she sent in. Which gave us all an uncomfortable laugh. For the most part Robert and Kevin Spacey had been on the quiet side but this opened them up. Robert admitted he probably got it and filed it, but then when it comes time to holding auditions they never really look in the file. Kevin said he gets a lot of résumé’s and headshots but he hates when people scribble come see me in X show and it's obvious they sent it to hundreds of people. He responds to letters that are personal and directed to him or the Old Vic. Mari chimed in that she feels the same way but towards script submissions. Which I made a mental note of. Try and see a production at the theater you want to court first, then think of it as a first date, after the show send a short note with something positive to say, just as an introduction to yourself. Maybe don’t sell your wares just yet, as you don’t want to come on too strong. Then when you got something to show them drop a polite note like Kevin said. Ideally if you see the show and think ‘what the fuck was that’, don’t peruse the company. You wouldn’t if you were on a date with someone that you just didn’t click with. I’m starting to see the connection. Which is bad because I’m really not good with first impressions or dates. Luckily, I have a boyfriend GT I live with and I don’t have to worry about the dating end of this but for networking as a playwright / director it’s all about the peacocking! (For GT and I we met in a play playing romantic leads so all the normal dating stuff didn’t really apply as it was done for s on stage.)

After the talk they had free drinks in the lobby for us. This is the part I was talking about, the part I don’t do well with. I leave first and go to the lobby, a few people by the bar. Okay, off to the bathroom to waste time as it fills in. I come out and boy did it fill in. I don’t know anyone in this group yet - but they all know each other or a few people here and there. I spot one of the people who made an announcement about looking for a director and approached her to ask a question. Of course bad timing because she was clocking Kevin to get a hello in. So she brushed me off quickly. She gave me the email address but too fast. Having learning disabilities isn’t good in a professional setting because I can’t get it when you throw it out at me; I need you to say each letter slowly. Frustrated she gave me the email several times. Great, now I look like an ass, and who wants a director who can’t even get an email address down? Well off to the bar for a free drink. I look around trying to make eye contact. Not much luck. I hear someone talking about a play that’s similar to my thesis play, well same decade anyway, but I didn’t know how to join in, nor did I want to be that creepy girl who just lingers over a conversation and then chimes in now and then. Instead I was creepy girl with a drink standing alone to the side and when I saw Maria from Clubbed Thumb I nearly pounced on her. “Do you have more of those comps?” I ask. She looked at me sideways. “I don’t have comps, I have these flyers.” The word she used made it sound a like a comp in the talk. “Oh right, sorry, yea that’s it.” She gives it to me and I try horribly to strike up a conversation but actually ended up insulting her. She pointed to the new playwrights on the flyer and said they were from Brown University and NYU, which is like the story of my life! So, I made a face. She tells me she went to Brown so it’s not unusual to have playwrights who went there too at her company. I didn’t mean to insult her - it’s just everywhere I look young playwrights getting done are all from Brown, NYU, Julliard, Columbia or whatever and I’m not. My school is in London and no one from it is in New York so those connections I made last year aren’t doing me any good here. Of course by now she sees someone she knows and off she goes.

Here I am in a room full of people who all share my same passion and I can’t talk to them. I think what I need is a workshop in socializing. I’ve never been good at it. It’s why I write. Keep me behind the page while others can get looked at. Oh well, at least I got a free drink. But I didn’t talk to Kevin Spacey who was standing in front of me! Now maybe if this was a play and not a real social event I’d have made friends because we’d all have a task to do and some how that brings people together…. Well I chugged my plastic glass of red wine and bolted. I left a little drunk sitting on the train thinking you idiot!

Prison Break

2009-03-24T09:41:00.003-04:00

When I'm upset over something and I start to complain to GT, he roles his eyes at me and says 'why don't you go blog about it' and leaves the room. Okay, he says it with a smirk, I promise. But for some reason I don't write anything too personal on this blog because I'd rather save that for my plays, so that way no one can ever really know if it's me or something I created. But I can tell you I am beyond annoyed at my situation right now.

I have to go back to London in June, which is great but the bad news is I lost my job in January and no one is going to hire some one who has to peace out for 3.5 weeks as a new employee. So I'm on unemployment but it only just covers the cost of breathing. Did you know the British pound is starting to get stronger or the dollar is getting worse because I looked up my tuition payment that's due in a week and it grew $300.00 more from just last week! Now I don't know how I am going to pay it. I've tapped out the shallow well in my family and no one will hire me because no one seems to be hiring at all. The worst part is having all this free time but not being able to do anything with it. I want to get out of the house so bad it hurts but anytime I leave it I spend money. Even if I wanted to go to the city that's $4.00 right there. Which seems funny that I would freak over $4.00 when I have to come up with $400.00 but that's my rational right now.

I don't have anything extra to spend, so I keep myself locked away in the house, slowly loosing it. I can't even work on my plays because I'm so sick of my own thoughts.

I always thought all I ever want is all the time in the world to write, sleep in, and do whatever. Well, carefully what you wish for because what I should have added as a clause was - only if I have the money to do so. Otherwise I'd rather feel useful and continue to make some money.

Structure From The Start

2009-03-17T09:57:00.003-04:00

I have until the end of April to turn in my second draft of my thesis play. However, I was told to rethink my first draft. So in reality I am turning in the first draft of my new version of my old thesis play. Make sense? Naw... it doesn't have too. I'm just glad I have the time to write a scene a day and not rush it.

I never realized how easy it is to write a play in four weeks. Nice and slow. I always want to rush through the first draft and spend two years rewriting what I wrote. But I have to admit planing out your beats and outlining the whole play first does allow for quick story edits before the actual writing begins. Once you finish that enormous task you're set to just basically fill in the dialogue as you follow your outline.

I'm not saying the outline is the end all be all. When you get your fingers going and your characters start talking to you then variations to the beats you created begin to pop up. And so far the over all story structure I creating has remained pretty much the same, even though the beats aren't. I'm not sure how that worked out but so far so good. Then again I should wait until I get feedback from this draft before I call this new way of working for me a success.

TGIF

2009-02-27T18:24:00.005-05:00

It's time to party. The weekend is here and my work is wrapping up.

My latest assignment was to read All My Sons and Cat on A Hot Tin Roof... I have to map out the structure. The plays have an interesting father / son dynamic. It's helped me when thinking about my thesis play. I have some of the same elements that are in these plays... an estate being handed over... siblings dynamic.... homosexuality... and dealing with the truth even when it's most painful.

But having turned in my first draft a while back it's clear that this second draft will have maybe five to ten pages from the original 75 I had before. It's important when writing to be brutal about cutting.... and some times to start from scratch. But I;m not worries...well... off to ponder my thesis world while enjoying some METAL!!!!!

Mourning the Loss

2009-02-24T14:45:00.008-05:00

So it's not enough to be unemployed, in debt from grad school and chronically dizzy (with the doctors telling you - you're fine) but my one year old Mac Book decided it couldn't take living anymore and committed suicide. The hard drive just up and died.

I was just sitting in my living room, minding my own business, when my computer froze and started making, what could only be described as a sharp moaning sound. So I shut it down and when I turned it back on the clicking sound of agony started up again. Then on my screen appeared a folder with a flashing "?" on it.

You would think I would learn from my lessons in the past and back up my work everyday having lost a new computer because I spilled coffee on it and two ipods because they too decided life was not worth living. But clearly I didn't learn - so I lost quite a lot of stuff... not to mention this seasons episodes of The Simpson's and Family Guy, and the Sex & The City movie I had bought on itunes. But I should have been more worried about my thesis play and the new draft I had just written, that sat with it's only copy in this tomb of a hard drive. Then again I looked at it like this... the more time I have to think about my re-write the better. I probably rushed that draft anyway. Now it's a clean slate to start over... or so I have been telling myself ever since.

I went to the apple store twice. On the first day they said they were too busy and to make an appointment for another time. Which turned out to be three days later. So I went all the way into the city for nothing. Three days pass - with no computer - kind of made me a little crazy - then late Sunday comes and I go back to the apple store only to have them tell me that there is nothing they could do and maybe I should go to Tekserve. Well, I called the number they gave me and it said they were closed, so rather then schlep to another part of town I went home to deal with the normal Sunday subway troubles.

Next morning I go to finally get my mac fixed. Back into the city. I took a number that they give you when you walk into the door and waited, I felt like I should order some turkey when my number was called, but all they have behind their counters were some manuals, extra hard drives and some broken computers... not something I'd like to put on my sandwich. But what was really strange about the wait was - this guy I saw on the train getting picked on by two twelve year old boys (who were skipping school) was there. On the train the guy actually turned around and smacked one of the kids who were screaming to him and at anyone who would be startled by their behavior. So of course these wanna be thugs get up in his face. Then this nice Russian woman tried to calm the boys down but told the guy to be an adult because after all these were just kids and maybe he should move seats. Well, he didn't and the kids didn't. They kept cursing and screaming at him, even spiting. I was in the seat right between them... I was like really? I'm just trying to get somewhere but there always has to be some situation on the train it feels like. So I'm sitting in the make shift subway car seats at the store and the guy walks in and I think his day's even crapper then mine, to get picked on by kids and have a computer problem. Oy!

So my number is called and I go to the counter, the guy helping me asked what the problem was, I tell him about the clicking and the freezing, he gets it. So the apple store already told me the hard drive would be replaced for free since it was still under warranty but if I wanted my data off then that's gonna cost. I called around before I went in on Monday and was told anything over $400 is ridiculous. So I go in knowing okay... that's my limit. So when he tells me to get my data off (if they can) it will be $800.00 - but free obviously if they don't get anything off - I was a little shocked. Well, sorry but how do I know they don't just get one thing and say that's it? This guy helping me seemed like a nice guy, but he's not the one doing the data recall, $800.00 is a lot to just hand over. No matter what I'm told to ease my mind, it doesn't make the price go away. Well, it's either pay my tuition or pay $800.00 for my last draft of my thesis play.

So then I ask, can I have my hard drive back at least? Because then I could obviously get my data back cheaper (sending it to Florida of course) and have a computer to use. The problem with that plan was Mac recycles the hard drives, so if I want the free replacement then no I wasn't allowed to have it back. But the guy tells me I can buy a hard drive from them for $240.00 and then yes I will get my hard drive back. The problem with that is after the $240 I would still have to pay the
$400 to someone else for my data retrieval... you do the math. So of course I pass.

It's important to know what's worth keeping onto. Once that was decided I did end up renting a another lap top for $100.00 while they had my computer. He said it would take until Friday to get it done. This being Monday I couldn't loose another week of working. In the back of my mind I wondered, do they take so long so you pay for a rental? Friday seemed like a long time away, in the end they called me Wednesday evening, saying it was ready. Had I known it wouldn't take until Friday I would not have rented the other computer... so yea... they did get me with that.

On Wednesday, late afternoon I get the call that the computer is ready. This guy leaves a message saying... I tried to get your data off but your computer was making a real loud clicking sound. I was like really? I hadn't noticed.

So I schlep to the store and retrieve my computer. The bad thing.. I was down several weeks of work, lost a lot of my photos... but I did end up with a new key board. The guy who helped me the first time noticed it was cracked and British, he said he would ask if they can replace it. And at first he said they couldn't... but when I picked up my computer there it was... all shiny and new! So over all the people who work there are nice... but I don't agree with their prices... I always see a difference between the people at the counter and the people who set the prices / policy's. (Maybe that's a wrong way to look at companies... but it's my way... and if you don't like it... don't read what I have to say.)

It's weird not having a computer for those few days. I know my childhood was spent without one, even right up to high school, but now it's like my life force. I feel like I have an arm missing or something... I do a phantom google search in my mind and picture what all the websites would look like if I looked up the word 'sucker.' Of course... eventually I'd come to my picture. Why would someone keep buying a product that just up and dies? Because they are so much fun to play with while they are alive....
(I'd insert a picture here but they are all gone now... into cyber death space.)

ESCAPE

2009-02-05T14:12:00.010-05:00

Last night I saw Rachel Getting Married. I'm not sure how I feel about it. I think... I defiantly appreciated it's style and the acting... but I also think I don't ever want to see it again.

Not because it was a bad movie although...there were parts that went on too long. Having two scenes back to back (for what felt like twenty minutes each) of the guest making speeches about the fictional bride and groom were a bit much. But buried in there were some very nice moments of Kate (Anne Hathaway's character) taking in the situation. Over all it really brought the audience into this families issues, however obvious they seemed, I defiantly felt trapped, claustrophobic and just wanted to get out for a breather.

On my way to the theater I called my mother and she said what are you seeing, Bride Wars?
And I told her "right actress but wrong movie."
"Oh well" she says "The whole family loved Bride Wars. It was so cute."

And I could see why the family would rather watch the bubbly version of Anne Hathaway on screen. This character she plays in Rachel Getting Married was a recovering drug addict, in and out of rehabs, jail and all around troubled woman. Watching her self destruct on screen would probably be too much to handle for my mother at the moment . My baby brother was just sent to jail for two weeks, he's semi out but into a... I guess rehab, halfway home? I'm not sure what they are called... but maybe that's why I didn't care for the film. It was too real.

Movies for me are about escape. When I fly on a plane I need to watch the cheesiest film, in order to calm my nerves.. I'd even sit through a J-Lo flick. I find in everyday life I have been gravitating to things like Bride Wars, instead of something heavier, something with substance. (except for last night.)... my nerves can't take anything real.

In a few hours I will be boarding a plane and heading back to South Florida to attend one of my oldest friends weddings... this felt like I was already there though...

So with me for my plane ride I have Shrek 1 and 2, Kung Fu Panda and I'm okay with that...

*On a side note I was really happy to see that Anne Hathaway can act... I'd like to see her in more films that push her abilities...*

Tiny Loves

2009-01-27T23:35:00.007-05:00

I am in 20 something degree weather - struggling to make ends meet - going from doctor to doctor - I have found something to look forward too - the future.
Behold my grandmother's birthday celebration, in the warmth of South Florida, she has found midget stripper love... and it is a beautiful thing!

so basically I have kidney stone's and grandma got a lap dance from a midget stripper.... when did I become old?

A New Direction

2009-01-27T21:20:00.002-05:00

While I enjoy walking to and from doctor appointments I still haven't found a new job... nor have I finished my thesis play. (My first draft was due Monday I think.) I have yet to figure out Act Two. I mean I know what has to happen but for some reason my characters don't agree with the plan. So I have decided let nature take it's course. I mean that's what's happening in my life... I didn't plan to lose my job and get sick and not finish my graduate work. SO why should I plan out these characters lives? I have a situation, I have their past but the future is up to them. Since I have only one doctors appointment left, I have the rest of the week to let my characters live. At least in their world no one is sick... or ... are they?

A New Profession?

2009-01-27T21:06:00.006-05:00

I've turned into a professional patient. Only I'm not getting paid for it.
(Or anything for that matter)
Visits:
Primary doctor - thrice
Neurologist - twice
MRI of brain - once
Sonogram of pelvic/abdomen - once
Gynecologist - once
Now tomorrow I have to call a urologist - though with all these doctor visit over the last two weeks it is still unclear as to why I am chronically dizzy. What is known is I am going to be a proud mother to two KIDNEY STONES. One at .5 and one at .3. They are just sitting in me waiting to make their appearance. But no this doesn't cause dizziness... and I know because I already gave birth to one at.5 three years ago. At 26 years old I have 3 kidney stones? But everything else in and on my body is perfection... so the doctors say. Apparently my love of salt should be reconsidered.

SPOILED CHERRIES

2009-01-18T15:08:00.005-05:00

It's that time when I plug my latest project. My play SPOILED CHERRIES is hitting Manhattan. It's only a short limited run but hey it's also one avenue from Broadway. So come one come all...

Manhattan Repertory Presents:

SPOILED CHERRIES

- A New Full-Length Play -

Director / Playwright: Hollie Rosenberg

Performance Dates: Jan. 21, 22, 23 2009 at 9pm

Location of Performances: Repertory 303 West 42nd Street (at 8th Ave) Third Floor

Featuring
Ilana Becker, Danielle Giovinazzi, Eason Smith
Christopher Sirota, Laura Mae Baker, Robert Aloi

Synopsis:
At what age does childhood end? 26 year old Sheila Kramer struggles with her refusal to grow up as those closest to her try to steer her in the right direction, she is forced to embark on a couch-hopping journey of self-discovery.

TO GET TICKETS: (646) 329-6588

THE RUN AROUND - Vertigo style

2009-01-15T14:17:00.005-05:00

On my list of doctor visits I can now cross off Neurologist.

At first I was hopeful that this was it. This guy is bound to have the answers. As per usual I wait for over an hour before I am seen, listen to the doctor's aids at the front desk swapping gossip, reading the paper and argue over what's better Staten Island of Brooklyn. In the meanwhile I am filling out a million sheets of paper, most asking the same exact questions over and over. But then I came to one that I wasn't sure what to put down.

With my clipboard in hand I approach the "busy" aid and ask
"Here it says to put employees name but as of a few days ago I am unemployed. Do I still put it since it's how I have my insurance.?"
Some how that won them over. Anything I needed, including a direct number to reach them was in my graps.
"Oh you poor thing! To have this medical condition and to be let go?"
I go on to explain how my insurance is up at the end of the month. So do you think whatever test the doctor needs me to go have done can be with in a few days?
"Absolutely."
It's not a lie but I still feel weird about the reaction they gave me.

The doctor did indeed send me for an MRI. But before that he examined me. He did the whole hammer on the joints bit (which popped that huge lump in my wrist - GROSS!). He had me squeeze his hand. He looked into my eyes and ears.
After he says I want you to close your eyes and march really big in place. So I do it for what feels like five minutes and then he says:
"Okay. Stop. Don't open your eyes. Do you think you moved at all?"
Of course I say "no". But then he paused which made me think 'well I might have moved a little bit', "maybe a few steps back" I say.
"Well open your eyes."
I was two inches from running into the wall! Not only did I move - but I moved forward across the room and over to the right.
"That's it "he said. "Follow me".
We go back to his office and he writes down "Benign Paroxysmal Positional Vertigo"
"Go google it" he says.
He goes on to say before I can say for certain this is it - I need to rule out anything else.

So a few days later I was lying in an MRI machine.

I've never had sugary or anything majorly medical done to me so this was very scary at first -- specially since I am claustrophobic. Luckily, since he was scanning my brain I didn't have to go all the way into the machine. But once I was in there I found it strangely relaxing. Sure there was a lot of noise - mechanical sounding - but I had on ear plugs. I just let the sounds turn into music. (They had strong rhythmic beats and somehow that soothed me.) After 20 minutes the guy working the machine told me what a nice person I was. Probably because I was asleep the whole time?

Another few days passed and the test result came back - my brain is normal. So does that mean I have Vertigo? If not what is wrong with me?

I called the doctors and after a few miss communications it seems more tests are needed. Of course they are. Meanwhile I don't feel dizzy anymore (just a little hint of it.) And my insurance is up very soon. So now I have to either get my own insurance and keep going to all these random test and doctors or I can just deal with it until I get a new job with health insurance. But then again this dizziness has already come and gone twice now. Who is to say it won't be back ten times worse?

Unemployment - Working for my own enjoyment - that ain't it kid

2009-01-09T11:33:00.012-05:00

At first I didn't really care to much about the "economic crisis" -- that is until it indirectly effected me.

In the start I was just glad to see my tuition payments for school were made lower because the British Pound against the US Dollar started to slowly find a mid point. So at the start the crisis I saved close to $2000.00. Which was awesome. But then the ripple effect began.

The big players in the world either lost, or became frightened they would loose - so budgets and donations were cut. What would I care about some one not donated money? Well, the arts depend largely on the kindness of strangers. The money being cut is always for the frivolous expenses. Not that I think Theater is frivolous. Obviously not or I wouldn't have gone into $30,000.oo debt to better myself in said arts, and indirectly contributing to the financial crisis.

A whole lot of theaters are shutting down, or slimming the fat. It's a bad time to be in the theater industry. What was it, like 16 shows or something closed on Broadway this month. I mean - yes shows do close in January because it's the slower season but come on!

And again, I didn't really care yet because I was an agents assistant. The agents clients were working. The Agency was cutting corners yes, no holiday party, smaller bonuses, but hey - at least I got one! Not only that but I had two weeks off (paid) over the holidays, as did everyone else there. But upon my return I was informed by the agent I worked for that he wasn't renewing his contract with the agency. Of course I had a hunch but I wasn't prepared for the next part.
"So when will you be leaving?" I ask.
"Tomorrow." He says.
And I sit there a little stunned. But more importantly what does this mean for me? I thought. Well, to the Agency it meant buuuubye. As I was an agents assistant, if the agent isn't working there then that pretty much means I have no purpose. If you have no purpose well then kids, you have no job. So with one days notice, no severance pay - out I went.

Now it comes down to finding a new job - in an industry that's shutting it' doors and giving lay offs left and right. I was in the one stable part of it and I still managed to get the boot.

But I sure am glad I saved those $2,000 off my last tuition payment. Just a shame now that I have another one coming up. Ah well... at least I still have my health... oh no. Sorry, I am in the processes of visiting five specialist for the lump on my hand and the dizziness in my head. Well, at least I still have my health insurance until the end of the month.

I was telling all this to a friend I haven't seen in a while and she says... "Wait, do you still at least have a boyfriend?".... Does she know something I don't?

Sick as A Dog

2009-01-02T19:43:00.005-05:00

I have two mystery illnesses. One is a huge lump on my wrist. Second is the chronic dizzy spell. I haven't had a clear head in three weeks. The worst part of both is I can never get a doctor when I need one.

Our dog Lyko has crust in his eyes. We called the vet and took him in an hour later. For me? It took me a week to get one doctors appointment. And when I saw him, he still didn't know what was wrong with me. His guess is an inner ear infection or Vertigo. I took the antibiotics and vertigo medicine. Neither worked. Our dog got diagnosed and prescribed medicine instantly. It's been two or three weeks since my last doctors appointment and I can't make another because of the holidays. The Doctor is not in. But the vet was.

How come our dog is getting better care then I am? I'm surprised I could look at the computer long enough to blog. I'm fighting the shifting motion I have, where it feels like everything shifts back and forth. The worst part is my work starts up again on Monday. We were lucky enough to have two full weeks off, but now I can't see a doctor because I can't take the time off of work.

My thesis play is due at the end of the month (first draft anyway) and the one free week I have to do nothing but it, is spent sleeping. I can't concentrate. My head feels like it's being squeezed and the world won't stand still.

Ah to be a dog and to walk into a doctors hour and an hour after calling for an appointment. Maybe I should put on a fur coat with a leash, something tells me I'd get the wrong kind of attention.

13th Street Rep

2008-11-09T17:04:00.006-05:00

"I was born in 1917" she tells me with a smirk, knowing full well the reaction she is going to get. I hold in my gasp. I knew she looked old but 91 years old? That's amazing considering I wasn't talking to her in a nursing home, or hospital. I was sitting on one of the many found chairs in the homey lobby of The 13^th Street Repertory's theater on 13th between 5th and 6th ave.

Edith O'Hara, the artist director, and founder of the theater sat next to me after I filled out my interview form. "I can't see much anymore, so I'm afraid I won't read your resume." But Sandra, her right hand gal, will. After asking me my interest and experience as a theater director, Edith begins to tell me her amazing life story. I have a feeling it's part of the routine. I've noticed with most people that are 85 and above, are easily launched into the highlights of their lives, whether they are asked or not. But I don't mind because I like to listen.

Edith's highlights include an early childhood in the mountains, her father was a logger up in the type of Idaho. She and her siblings lived in a small rustic house, with bed chambers and out houses. "No modern conveniences" she says to me. Then ask if I know what a bed chamber is, granted she could not know my first full length play was called "Bedpan Palace" so I nod politely and indicate I know of them. She goes on to tell me that her school house had seven or eight other student, three were her own family, but that it only went to the sixth grade. So when she reached the seven her father sold his business and they moved "Into town."

It was in this school where she was put into a play, were she played George Washington. From there she says her love of theater began. She goes onto talk about her romance with a man, newly separated but not yet divorced named Arty Smith, whom she meet when doing summer stock. From them she went to UCLA which left because the classes were to big and impersonal. She then married a man whom she wasn't head over heals for like she was with Arty, but she says twice, With Arty being separated and not divorced I didn't know how that would work." So she married Mr. O'Hara and had three children. Two went onto Broadway and one, her son is a musician. She makes it known she was never a stage mom, her kids were just exposed to it because of her involvement in theater. Later after jumping from running various Summer stock venues she ends up in NYC in 1971 or 2 and finds an add in the village voice for a small theater for sell. She has been there ever since. Of course some corporation is now trying to get her out of there so they can get millions for the building.

It was an inspiring story to say the least. So I am to interview again, with Sandra to talk about some becoming apart of their directors unit. It seems like a nice environment to get my hands dirty, so hopefully it will work out, but if not, I'm glad I got a chance to sit and talk with Edith. That's always how I imagined my life, spending my last breath in the theater, maybe my own?

FUN FACT: 13th Street Rep is home to the longest- running show in the city, Israel Horovitz's absurdist one-act Line has played there since January 1974.

YES WE CAN and did!

2008-11-04T23:10:00.005-05:00

Well my dears, we did it. I wish I had the words to express....

VOTE VOTE VOTE

2008-11-03T21:09:00.006-05:00

Hold your breath. I know I am...

More then likely I will be the only person in my office tomorrow morning. I hope so anyway. That means they are all out voting. My pick was sent off two weeks ago, right into the dragons lair! By that I mean Florida.

Part of me feels like maybe we have this one in the bag but then I think - no that's what I thought last time. Didn't really work out then, did it? But I have to believe my fellow Americans that you are ready for a change. Please, please, please tell me you are. We can do so much better then the last eight years. I know we can.

I feel like some of us are pulling this rope up hill and attached is a large heap of something indistinguishable, but we can't pull it alone. I see hands, and feet running to keep up. We have a hold of this thing, all we need are a few extra hands, but those hands are on hips, with lips pressed tightly together. They watch with eyes filled with fear, standing unmoved, all around us. They won't help because they think we are pulling some terror object up over the hill and want nothing to do with it. But the truth is - they don't know what's in the barge, they can't know. We don't know but we hope it's better then what's already over the hill. SO we continue on. Pulled by some collective need to get this task done.

I can't say anything that has not already been said before. So I will just be glad I suppose that the turn out will be beyond anything it has ever been, in that way I know we can make it. Maybe it won't be my side but at least it shows passion and commitment form everyone - feeling something is a million times better then being passive. In playwriting it's always the passive characters that hold the story back, that's why it's important to create motivation and a want/need... because if you want something, anything, you have to create action to get it.

How Much to Make It Work?

2008-10-29T21:16:00.005-04:00

If it's not one thing it's always another. Well enough.

The grad school I attend is starting to really get on my nerves. The program I am in is great, it's the administration for the school that's a problem.

Every single pound I have paid them has been a struggle. I don't just mean getting the money, I mean giving it to them. Every time something isn't correct, either the amount or the date is wrong (from their end). I finally had to go through the head of the department to get somewhere. I even sat down with a fiance guy and we mapped out the rest of my payment plan. I signed a paper and that was that.

Well, turns out - that wasn't really that- because today some idiot in finance emailed me a bill. A bill that is incorrect. A bill that is charging me for payments I already paid. In fact it is charging me for the whole tuition fee!

I'm a second year student - can you imagine if I went this long without paying anything? I mean really? Come on people! And what's most annoying about this is I'm not in London anymore. I'm back in NYC and it's impossible (even more so) to get anything done from here. They don't respond to emails, they don't pick up the phone. I mean I can't pay $2,000.00 to fly there and yell at someone, all though it still would be cheaper then the amount they are saying I owe them.

If only this was it, besides these morons I have a debt collector calling my boyfriend looking for me saying I owe money for a hospital bill, which I don't but it's an automated phone so there is no one to call and yell at.

And frankly I'm tired of having to yell at people. It's exhausting and it never ends. It would all seem a little better if I was getting somewhere - not just with these money people but with my lot in life - my goals - my work - something. Just can't something - anything happen the way it's planned?

My Country Tis of WHo?

2008-10-26T17:26:00.007-04:00

I voted. That makes me a real American - even though I don't worship Jesus - I don't own an American Flag - I do live in a big city and I hate apple pie. Despite all that I am still a real American. I shop at Walmart - I buy most things online - with a credit card - I'm in debt $35,000 (thanks to grad school) and I want to be rich (not so much famous) one day.

Having said all that I'm pretty sure you all know who I voted for... and the amendments I voted against. I voted early because I'm in NY right now but I'm registered in Florida. (Where my vote counts.)

I have to say, the only good thing about this race is the voting turn out (I hope) will be one of the largest this country has ever seen. It has always been a low number of voters so hopefully we Americans - and if you live in America (by way of another country or born here) that makes you a real American - will go out and give our opinion on who should run our country.

This country that was founded by immigrants! And continues to grow because of them. That's not a bad thing republicans. I think you shouldn't be judged because you were born somewhere. The fact that you are choosing to come live in America should be a compliment and received with open arms. Because if you choose to live somewhere you are dedicating your life and (taxes) to that place. The rest of us where born here and stayed (which is also a choice.) Meaning we all had a say in our location to live.

We don't have to all worship the flag or agree with anything our government says (especially lately) to be a real American. In fact disagreeing is one of the strongest acts of patriotism there is. It means you won't let your country settle for something that isn't the best - whether it's a choice or course of action. After all - the government is made of men/ (and a few) women not Gods. SO it is our duty to keep them in check!

I hate people who are like "Oh you don't like it? Then you can leave it." Because those are the people who can't think for themselves and get scared with change and have a white hood in their pick up truck for their 'meetings'. They want to be told what to do and how to do it. That's fine (for them) but then why tell others - who like to know what's going on and may disagree - to leave? That means you don't want your country to be better. You don't want things questioned and that means you hate America 'Mr. love it or leave it moron.'

I'm just so annoyed with this whole "Real American" bullshit that's been thrown around and enough already. If you live in America and pay taxes to help support America - then you are in fact a real American - no mater what you believe - who you pray to - who you want to marry - who you hate - who you love - where you shop - and what part of America you live in.

So show it by voting. (That would make you a super cool American - which is way better then a real one.)

Thank you - that is all - now if you will excuse me I have a thesis to avoid - junk food to eat - and bad reality TV to watch.

Trick or Treate Give Me Something to Wear!

2008-09-24T15:14:00.004-04:00

Halloween is probably my most favorite of all holidays. Last year I didn’t get to celebrate because I was living in London. But this year it’s on! I got a party to go to and people to get candy from, but what on earth am I gonna be?

I was thinking GT should just wear his hair down and put on a dress, and call himself an Ugly Step Sister - because from the back people always mistake him for a girl (coz of his pretty - pretty long hair) but then when he turns around, they nearly faint. (Not coz he’s unattractive. Like I would be with him if he was?) No, it’s the realization that if this is a girl she’s probably the ugliest girl you’ve ever seen - but when you put two and two together and realize it’s a dude, then your like ‘ooooooh’ that’s much better. But I know he won’t go for the drag idea.

Then my friends who we call Deason (a couple) said they thought of going as GT and me for Halloween. This is pretty funny if you ask me. Because GT and I have very distinct looks, him in his metal gear and me in my large adult orphan Annie hair style, would bring about a few laughs worn on someone else. They decided to be Bee’s instead though.

So D’s idea was ‘why not as lady bugs?’ - because no one would ever think GT would dress up as that. Not when he has all those fancy fangs, colored contact lenses, swords and gothic get up. (Nor is it his style) But I don’t have any of that stuff, only a few short haired wigs form my aunt. Other then that I have no idea! Hmmm I’m gonna have to have a real think about this (since I emailed out my graduate thesis paper this morning I finally have the time and brain mass to waste on such things)

(In the end this is what we went as.)

WHAT MY DAD TAUGHT ME

2008-09-05T20:59:00.005-04:00

I'm typing with my toes. My hands are being used to pet two large dogs, whose house I just broke into. And this is my Friday night.

I was supposed to be packing for a flight to sunny Miami but the Gods had their own plans. Hurricane's, tropical storms and an old lady waiting to fart are standing in my way. This old lady I speak of is the owner of the apartment I have just broken into.

GT's poor mother was struck ill. While she is recovering in the hospital (they won't let her leave until she passes gas) we are on doggy watch. Some how the door to her apartment got locked. Without keys I thought back to my childhood and all the times my dad had me break into my grandparents house. He'd throw me up to a side window and have my tiny body squeeze between the metal hurricane shutters. (Which I image are shut tight right about now.) Since it's still hotter then hell I knew the windows would be open here. So I wondered around and found a good ledge to hop over onto another, steadied myself, reassured the dogs on the other side of the window screen that I was a good guy, pulled the screen up and in I went.

I know my dad is disappointed I won't be seeing him tomorrow at the airport (as he reminds me that he was going to make all my favorite foods.) But I'm sure he'll be proud to know my skill for breaking into old people's homes has come into use once again. Thanks dad for teaching me the lessons in life worth using.

Green Light

2008-08-16T17:02:00.008-04:00

Narrows Community Theater of Bayridge Brooklyn is producing my latest Full-Length play SPOILED CHERRIES.

I didn't intend to be working on a show so close to my return, especially with my thesis paper due at the end of next month and now having a full time job - but I couldn't be more excited.

Time to roll up my sleeves and get to work...

So Much to Say..............No Time to Say It

2008-08-16T13:10:00.008-04:00

I want to talk about the old drunk guy who wears really short shorts and sings Frank Sinatra songs at karaoke - the beggar on the train I got into a fight with because his begging was interrupting my conversation - the fact that all of the sudden GT is a teenage heart throb, which keeps me up at night with laughter - the horrible off B'way shows I have been seeing - the loud lady with the Peg Bundy hair and shoulder pads who rides the same train I do every morning - the missing of Dustin Hoffman's call at work because I just had to go get a bagel - the hopelessness I feel about ever becoming a full-time playwright / director - the excitement about the British invasion (HR2) coming to town for 2 whole weeks! - GT's new role as Producer and how supportive he's been - the cashier at Starbucks who says please go online and fill out a form so they don't shut us down and thinking how ironic that was - the 'Oh yea? Why don't you go blog about it' wise cracks I get from the metal head version of Justin Timberlake that has become GT - the many BQ's I have been to this summer and how everyone has a different idea of what a barbeque is, here's a hint, if it's catered from an Italian restaurant, it ain't a barbeque, it's just eating outside - and how I have no idea what happens from here....

Past a smll hump

2008-08-16T13:03:00.005-04:00

So much has happened since I returned home form living abroad. I recently turned 26 and have officially crossed over to the other side of 'past a quarter of a century old.' My 25th year of life was a real adventure marked with a lot of development not just personal but as a playwright I think maybe I get it.
I wrote this new play - well I started it at 23 years old and wrote a version that was an all over mess, a total picture of what not to do. Then I started my master program at City Uni and for the first time I was forced to read and see as many plays as possible. Before this I had only studied screenwriting. But I began to take up this failed play of mine and start over. - I couldn't loose the theme, or the main characters because it was something I had to put down. I tried moving on to other work but for some reason I couldn't let this play go. I let GT read it because he's honest, especially about my plays. For the first time he read it in one sitting and actually liked it. He had two notes which were to add a scene I had thought I needed as well. Suddenly with a little bit more fine combing I have to say I'm actually glad I didn't give up on this piece.

GT liked it so much he's got it a possible home, with me attached to direct. Though I'm always weary about a full production Right after the ink is hardly dried I think actually this is a long time coming - for this play (SPOILED CHERRIES). SO he sent it to actors and the theater Board he's on and the response is really positive . I know I shouldn't be surprised but something in the back of my head was starting to think maybe I'm in the wrong place. Well, not me but my chances. It's not so much getting a production so fast for a script (that's just finished) is the responses form the readers... My last plays I had to beg people to maybe take a look and weeks, months later I'd get a shrug. This time it was a day turn around. I don't know what that means but I suppose that's good.

Red Light / Green Light

2008-08-16T12:41:00.007-04:00

GT is on his way over to the meeting, with his laptop in hand so he can show them the budget. It's already been approved by the President of the group but now it's on to the board for the final say.

If they approve my director's fee and royalties (for the use of my play) then it's a go and auditions will be in a week. If not? Then I'm sad to say I'll have to decline the offer.

I'm not doing this because I'm a bored house wife or an elderly person with time on my hands. I'm 26 now (as of Wed) and I'm determined to get it right. I'm enjoying my day job but ultimately I want to be the client, not the agents assistant. The only way to do that is to just go for it, understand your worth and stick to your guns. That's how it's done. I mean, luck helps but you can't plan for it or ask it to come along and take over.

So for now I'm at the yellow light, not full stop but I'll pause and see what's on the table.

No One Puts Hollie In the Corner

2008-07-17T18:25:00.004-04:00

Not gonna lie - it's been a while. Too long since I've blahed away at the world. The reason is all my blahing energy or pent up anger over something some crazy person may or may not have said to me in my daily wanderings have dissolved into the towers of corporate power that dot the city.

Sitting in my corner on the 33 floor of another uninspiring high rise, I think why am I being punish? I mean, don't get me wrong. I like my new job, I like my new boss and I like my new co-workers, I just don't like 9.5 hours of ass growing I do daily. If it's been over 8 hours and all my work is done and the boss is gone - then tell me why do I need to sit here and keep the desk company? Seriously. It's not like I want to be an agent. So what's the deal?

I should shut my mouth. It's luck I got a job so quickly - especially in today's economy. Or so everyone tells me. And I'm working in my industry... right? Just not as a writer. Instead I send the real working writers their royalty checks and think 'one day Hollie, one day.'

If I'm not sitting at my work desk then surly I'd just be at my desk at home - doing the same thing, avoiding my work and browsing playbill.com for the hundredth time (just to be clear I don't avoid my work at the agency, I avoid my writing when that work is done.) Like I said it's not the work it's the amount of hours I have to be there. I'm writing in circles I'm so drained.

Currently Reading:

Neil LaBute - The Mercy Seat
This is How it Goes

Tracy Letts - Man From Nebraska

Un Happy Birthday, America

2008-07-05T20:12:00.006-04:00

This has to be the most half ass-ed forth of July I've ever encountered.

I'm not saying I didn't enjoy the Thursday and Friday I had off but it feels like America was way to depressed to do anything for her big day. She basically sat on the couch eating bonbons while looking at old pictures of her and Britain when they were young and in love. 'What went so horribly wrong' she thought. Then she got a box of wine and drunk dialed Iran. Not gonna lie, it was really ugly.

Where is that sparkle you used to have old girl? Where are the roaring fire works and huge family style parties? None of those seemed to happen. NO apple pie and big dreams. She didn't even blow out the candles. People! Something isn't right here. I think we should all get together, wave a few flags and sing a few rounds of G-d Bless America. Maybe the old bitch will cheer up again.

I understand though, having a birthday but being so poor that everything you could think of to do makes you angry at yourself for having the need to spend money - that you don't have in the first place - on something so frivolous! Well, don't you cry anymore old gal, we'll find you a new step-daddy soon enough. That mean beady eyed creep will get the boot and who knows - maybe your Queen Mum will forgive you and let you back into the family. That would be nice wouldn't it? Having some nice shiny British Pounds to play with instead of your dirty dollar?

Proud To Be..... Free or Me?

2008-06-28T14:05:00.007-04:00

It's gay pride week here in good old NYC but today in Brooklyn a parade past by my street and I thought 'could it be? A small gay pride march through the streets of Dyker Heights Brooklyn?'

Well, don't be fooled by the name, it's made up of over compensating macho men and loud bossy mothers, I mean women. Mostly Italian, some Greek, Jews and Irish off springs. Meaning it's a typical melting pot (of over bearing straightness and American family values). Not just on the street but in my own home. - You have me, the off spring of once Jewish immigrants from the late 1800's - who came over from Russia. You have GT, born in Greece but raised in Brooklyn and wants nothing to do with his birthplace. And living in the apartment below us is his elderly mother who is Greek and although she has lived in America for 30 something years, can't speak English. There you have my Brooklyn.

So hearing the bagpipes marching down my street I ran out excitedly hoping to see the local branch of the national Transgender Irish American League proudly portraying who they are but a lass that wasn't what I found. Only the usual off spring of once upon a time Irish or Scottish immigrants (like I know the difference by their skirts?).

The parade was made up of random clubs and groups of either boy scouts, various cars with a flag on them and some women with strollers - all toting the American flag. So, I guess it's an American Pride Parade? I'd much rather have drag queens and boys in sparkly shorts throwing out condoms and beads to the crowd, not neighbors watching their neighbors prance around with a flag - of a country we all live in - down the street.

But when I got back upstairs to excitedly tell GT about it he rolled his eyes. "You shouldn't be proud to be born somewhere," he said with disdain.
Then all the sudden a flood of American pride shot through me. "How can you of all people say that? You weren't even born here, but you're here now."

Having spent a year away from America I realized how awesome home is.

Okay, I know we have a lot of fucked up situations going on including Iraq but you know what? So do other countries. They aren't perfect at all. Not only that - their TV sucks - so why else did our forefathers come here? (if not for the TV, cheese burgers with a side of apple pie?)

The world outside our large island may care more about theater, and cultural issues, they may also speak other languages but if they had a world separated from the rest I guarantee they'd end up like us too. (I know that because we - Americans - are all bits and pieces of them!)

Not to say I think we should only speak English - in fact I hate that I can't understand other languages and that I was never really taught the truth about the world outside - but I can't blame that all on our education. If I really wanted too I could have studied on my own - but I'm American right? So I'd rather blame someone else and not do anything about it myself and I'm proud of that.

I didn't choose to be born here but my family did choose to immigrant here a few generations back because life as a Jewish person and life as a Russian wasn't particularly easy. So they gave up their home, came here so I can now sit on a leather couch and blog away on my laptop computer about how hard my life is (or isn't.) So yes, I say I am proud even though I was just born here. So what? Gay pride week is about being proud of who you are - most would say you are born gay - so I was born American. Can't I be proud too? I wasn't oppressed or anything like gays - blacks - native Americans or even middle eastern immigrants are now or other Jews were and are but does that mean I can't be proud at all? DO you really have to over come something in order to be allowed to show some spirit? I guess the neighborhood consensus on that is no. But what about everywhere else?

Welcome to the Club

2008-06-26T21:19:00.005-04:00

Well, I never made it to find those work pants. So be it. I did have time to see three shows though which is a way better way to spend my money and time:

Neil Labute Reasons to Be Pretty - where my awesome sudo cousin Ilana is the assistant director. Not only that - this off b'way show is now headed to B'way (thanks to the August producers!) and well so is she!! Which is the coolest thing since slice bread.

The next show was Christopher Durang Marriage of Bette and Boo where the understudy for the character Matt was Ben H. who was in two plays I directed - one I wrote. Ben came straight from school to NYC and after doing only a few fringe shows - (two of mine) he got his Off Broadway debut (while in mine). He has been working ever since. Seems everyone is taking steps up the ladder.

The last show was Caryl Churchill's Top Girls - don't know anyone involved in that show but it was a great play. That opening scene was so funny - you don't realize how funny it can be from the page. The best part was after the show, LMB and I were leaving the theater and a tourist - with a thick southern accent said "Oh lets try that Top Girls Club over there." Um sir, that there is called a b'way show - what you are seeing is a Marquee! Not and entrance to a club! I so wanted to follow him and his family gang to the door and listen as they try in vain to get into what they think is a club.

Today I started my job as an agents assistant - luckily his old assistant is staying around for a few days to get me up and going - which is a huge help. So far so good. It's a lot to take in but that's expected.

Okay it's time to watch mindless TV and avoid my writing. (Better not get into the habit of that -I have a thesis to write)

New Job = New Clothes

2008-06-22T14:02:00.004-04:00

Having spent the last year as a student I basically only own jeans and sweatpants. I realize that's not a good enough excuse but that's all I have to give.

So when I had my job interview with in 24 hours of my return to NYC I was in a bit of a panic of what to wear. I really could have used a reality make-over-show at that moment but unfortunately I think they need more then 24 hours notice. Any of my fashion conscious friends would have been helpful too. Suddenly, I missed living in an apartment with several people because there was always a gay or an actress - same thing really- ready to fix me up in a fashion emergency. But a lass I'm in a domestic phase of my life where the only on hand help was my boyfriend, try as he might he'll never be the gay man of my dreams (even if he does do musical theater in between his metal gigs.)

So after tearing my closet apart I found something workable. But now since I actually got the job I need more then just one workable outfit. That's when I called the gay man's poodle, B. She wasted no time, even took a half day at work, to take me to Loehmann's and beyond in search of something appropriate yet still young looking that I could parade around the office and the city in. I mean, just because I'll be working as an assistant doesn't mean I have to look like a little old lady in long skirts and button down shirts or in really tight short skirts with loads of boobage. Neither was what I had in mind.

Most of the places I have worked at recently were much more casual, that's why all my boring old corporate attire had been dumped somewhere between LA and Midtown. Here in my Brooklyn closet only frumpy and dumpy remained.

After my last penny was spent I had acquired a good starting place. The only thing missing now was a pair of black pants. I didn't think it would be so hard to find them but who knew? I've looked all over downtown and couldn't find anything that fit. I'm 5'4 and apparently no longer a size 8 to 12. I've shrunk to a 4. Well sort of - a size 6 is too big and a 4 is a tiny bit too small. Add my short stature and you have a very comical image of me swimming in pants that pinch me at the waist and flood me at the feet.

I won't give up though. Tomorrow's mission is to find the most - perfect - fitting - pair - of black pants that ever were - even if I have to start at canal street and work my way up to 89th. (Just a random street.) Along the way I'll meet my boy toy while he waits for an equity call. A new jukebox musical to the tunes of Journey - I swear they wrote that for him. They just don't know it yet. So while he's searching for an in to be seen - I'll be hording through every clothing rack imaginable praying to the fashion Gods for something that fits.

Start Spreading The News

2008-06-21T14:04:00.003-04:00

Less then 24 hours of my return to the Big Apple and I had a job interview. Less then a week in the Big Apple and I had the job.

I thought it would take a few weeks to get my life straightened out after having lived in London for almost a year but as it turns out time isn't what I needed, just a bit of luck and a polished resume. Life seems to find it's course quite matter of factually when it has too.

I start my new job on Thursday and I have to say I'm actually pretty excited about it. It's nice to go after a job you want and get it with no muss or fuss. I was expecting I might have to settle for something out of my field, if only to make money so I can start paying off my loans and next years tuition. (Though I may be home in NYC I'm still technically also a grad student with tuition payments and thesis work to do at a school in London.)

Now add agent's assistant to the list. Not just any department but the theatrical one and not just any small agency but a top tier.

Just like that my life in theater has taken a new twist. No more London show hoping and class taking, life has moved on to NYC thesis writing, show hoping and hands on show business - deal making - contract approving theater training.

Now if only i had something to wear!

BACK OVER THE POND

2008-06-16T13:49:00.003-04:00

I'm back in good old NYC well actually it's more like BK.

Getting here however turned out to be more difficult then I thought. I knew packing up my dorm room wouldn't be fun. I went to London on the Queen Mary 2 and had 5 - 75 pound bags -with me - as I thought I was going to stay two full years abroad. Of course one week in and life changed. I rekindled my relationship with GT and even decided to live together when my year of classes was up. Not only that but I'd have to fly home at the end since I would be flying back and forth every spring/winter break - which meant my Queen Mary 2 return fund had vanished - little did I know my one way return ticket from London to NYC by plane would be the same amount as a trip on QM2.

I attempted to off load a lot of my stuff to friends- okay just HR2 - in London and take more of my stuff back on my sprig break - that way I wouldn't be stuck with what would have been seven large bags. I got my stuff down to 4, which means I had to pay 60 pounds each for two of the bags - and a taxi - also I had to arrange for a porter to help me get my bags from the Taxi to the drop off area inside.

All went according to plan until I hit the drop off desk. It would seem my internal scale was off. Two of my four bags were several Kg over weight. But in terminal five - with their fancy equipment - the machine won't take the luggage if it's even a fraction over - they don't charge you extra like some airlines they just refuse to take it. So the porter, check-in-woman and myself opened my luggage and started moving objects from one bag to another. 20 minutes later, and the whole airport new what I had packed but we got the right combination eventually and all my bags just barley made the cut off. I felt bad for the Porter because each time he had to lift my bag on and off the scale until we got it right. I only had five pounds to tip him with. I didn't know it be such physical a job!

Well, I laughed my way through security which took no time at all and wondered around the new terminal five at Heathrow. There I sat at what I thought was my gate. A women came and asked me if she could do a survey. I said sure.

She asked why are you flying to Tokyo?

I corrected her. I'm headed to NYC.

She smiled and said okay lets continue anyway. She did. After she walked away.

But then came back. "are you on flight 177?

Yes.

You need to be at gate 35.

I suddenly looked up and saw everyone else sitting by me was Japanese.

Well at my gate with obvious new yorkers I headed to the plane. My fear of flying has gotten a lot better. I didn't need to drink the two little bottles of wine they give, I just wanted too. MY TV screen didn't work but I had a laptop so I was still amused. Only one small section of turbulence when we got closer to NYC. Other then that great flight.

Off the plane however at baggage claim I didn't quite think through how I would get all four bags and me to the lobby where GT was waiting. I got a cart they aren't long. SO I had to stack my 70 pound pages on top of each other until they were taller then me. After I had to push this cart past people waiting for their luggage and up to costumes. I couldn't see, I couldn't steer but the Customs Agent definitely found me amusing after asking the typical questions - with a smirk - he says do you have a boyfriend hidden in those bags?" "No, he should be on the other side waiting for me." "He Should be." and I thought there were better ways to answer that question but I didn't want to test the Customs Agents sense of humor. So he let me go and I wondered out to where all the people wait for you. There was GT shaking his head as he say me, bright red form exhausting pushing this cart with all my might, in my disheveled hair and travel clothes. My first words to him "Help I can't steer." Just like that I slipped back into my normal NYC life. We made it home, I even unpacked in two days time but you plan and plan and still things never go as they should.

If Your Happy and You Know It Clap Your Hands

2008-06-11T08:54:00.006-04:00

I was in the bank yesterday closing out my account and the banker man asked me ' excited to go back home?'
I jumped up with a huge grin 'Oh Yea!'
He took this in. 'Was it really that bad here?'
I didn't mean it like that. It wasn't bad here, it just wasn't home.

I've made countless enemies on those red monster double decker's to last me a life time. It seemed I couldn't go anywhere without getting into it with a driver, old lady, crazy old man, gang of 12-year-olds and other foreigners like me but ones who don't speak English.

This last time I was trapped towards the front of the bus by the luggage holder - hanging on for dear life - as these drivers like to pretend they are on a race track- when a stop was up a head- This guy from somewhere like Russia maybe jumps up to get his huge bags - which were in front of me but to do that I had to let go of the pole and stand in the middle - left only to my own balance. I wasn't prepared to do this. Not until the bus had come to a complete stop.
But he didn't understand when I shouted in his face 'I have nothing to hold on too. Stop!"
as he lifted the bag and barreled me over anyway - his obnoxious ignorant grin in my face nodding his head yes.
I'm sure the look I gave him was universal, but still that stupid grin looking at me while maliciously knocking me down with his bag was more then I could handle. The driver would have waited for him to exit when the bus stopped but he didn't understand me as I yelled this to him. So I yelled some other things like 'fucking crazy bastards' and got off a stop early anyway. Just like that I was in a bad mood all day. Because of some arsehole who can't understand universal notions.

There I go again! And the anger is back.

So when a bank teller says 'Are you excited to go home?'
Of course I am because if you shout at a New Yorker at least they know to shout back - in whatever language they speak - they don't have creepy polite grins on their faces while they push you down. When you're angry - you show it. When you're happy - you show it. I just don't have a place in this polite society.
It's so repressed it makes me want to shout in everyone's faces - but I'll save it for home I guess. where they appreciate it more.

For me? You shouldn't have, but since you did....

2008-06-08T07:39:00.005-04:00

SURPRISE!

So HR2 took me on a wild goose chase all over London. We began at Trafalgar Square where we meet, had some lunch. Then we jumped on a boat, went down the Thames to the Tower Bridge area. Walked to these hidden docks and had Pimm's at the Dickens's Inn. Some wonderfully old pub that may have been an Inn once? If not they did a nice job making it look old. After we walked past the tower of London, over the London Bridge (where I learned some idiot in the US bought it thinking it was the Tower Bridge and now in some lake somewhere in Michigan? is the London Bridge - which is just a concrete block.)
LONDON BRIDGE

TOWER BRIDGE

On the South Side bank we headed to the 'Britain at War Experience' - under the bridge. It's this little sudo museum where you see a bunch of stuff from WWII. We even got to play in a bunker and dress up like solders and play with mannequins. Perhaps I shouldn't be so excited about that? Any who we emerge 20 min later and head to the tube where strangely enough a WWII bomb was found! What are the odds? It was very trippy. Luckily they defused it and London was saved, 60 some years later.

We headed over to the Circus School to meet Sticky Victor (she's gonna kill me for that). Had a nice bitter shandy. Then they gave me gifts. A London Starbucks mug, a chocolate bar, a box of instant cappuccino packs, a small bottle of bailey's, a small bottle of whiskey and asked what does this all equal. I said breakfast. They said an Irish Coffee. Truly people who know me well.

After some of Sticky's friends from work came and chatted us up. But the girls were looking at there clocks and frowning. So off we went for what HR2 called phase 5. Wandering the streets we ended up in Brick Lane.

Here we found an out door garden and they wondered looking for a free seat until I saw J from class and all the others. Sticky pointed to them "There!" and surprise my whole class came together to have a drink and of course when in Brick Lane - Indian food!

After another round we headed to a restaurant where we had the entire bottom floor to our selves. After a large amount of yummy food there were more presents! This time is was a tin can with a million little wrapped gifts inside. Each had a little saying like "For your romantic reunion with George" and it was a 'I Heart London" condom. The rest were very PC, which could be why i don't remember them all but it was a snow globe - more candy - British themed pencil- eraser - key chain - stress ball and a other fun things.

After most people headed out and a few of us went to a bar found down an alley with drunk people everywhere. This bar was huge and dirty but with a really cool decor. O had a little dance off with herself which quickly caught every ones attention. Russians are a little bit more out going then the Brits but as soon as she was in her groove it seemed the whole bar broke out in dance. "They just needed some one to start it" she said in her thick accent. But after half a drink we had to leave, trains would be closing soon and frankly i couldn't fit anything else in my swelled belly.

So I headed home and thought if only the Atlantic wasn't so big.

Journey Home

2008-06-08T07:18:00.004-04:00

I guess the jokes on me.

This last full week of Londonhood went by extremely fast. I felt as if I had only just started my work experience at the Lit agency and it was suddenly over. Not only that I have three classes left - of not just this term but for my entire master program! A year just zipped by. And to think I almost didn't finish the first term.

I wasn't liking London, didn't have any friends yet, the dorms were a horrible shock to my system - as it is like living in a jail cell, the school was only 2 nights a week then and that was all I had. Not to mention the realization of how much money this is all costing me and will it ever be worth it? But I have to say I think my writing has come a long way since September. Not only that but my over all general script knowledge has increased ten fold! I've never read so many stage plays, screenplays, TV shows - mostly plays - in my life. Still I want more. So that's a good indication I chose right.

I remember when I first started college as an undergrad in 2001, it was at Roosevelt's Performing Arts Conservatory as a musical theater major in Chicago. I literally lasted one day and had a panic attack. It just wasn't the right place for me. So I dropped out and majored in film at Columbia College down the road. And though I do enjoy film production I really wanted to study playwriting even back then but felt it was useless as I had so many outside voices telling me at least with a production course you can get paid work. Boy did I get it - for the lowest pay and hardest work! Not worth it. I should have started in lit back then. But I have so many random and wacky adventures because I didn't that I can now write about, or put into my characters and their journey's.

So in the end I think the decisions I made were all very valuable. The only one I regret is not looking for an apartment here in London. I will not miss my tiny four walls, cot bed, shower over the toilet that doesn't drain, the heat or the noise. But I will miss what's out side of it. London.

Sex and The Wrong City

2008-05-31T20:01:00.006-04:00

Tomorrow is Sex and The City Day. Laugh all you want but I'm pretty excited about it.

HR2 invited a bunch of her girlfriends to head to her neck of the woods, wearing their favorite dresses and heels - then it's off to sip Cosmos and watch the S&C movie. This is as close as I get to home right now, so I kinda need this. I know I have less then 2 weeks left of my year long stay in London but I'm not going to lie, when S&C comes on TV here I get a little weepy eyed.

I pretty much live on Cosmos back home (not so much the heels and dresses), as I don't really like beer and the wine is usually served from a box I have no other choice right? And for some reason cocktails are what NYC does best. It's odd but there you have it. Here in London it is so much a beer culture that I've gotten into wine. At least they carry a variety of wine, in actual bottles, cork and all - unlike my local Brooklyn bar that I swear grabbed a large jug and poured me a glass. In retrospect at least it wasn't in a pint glass.

The sad news is I don't have any heels or dresses with me. Anything that resembled the dress code I brought back home on spring break and left only sweats, some jeans and t-shirts. So today I wandered about Angel, in all the second hand - antique stores looking for something I could pull off, while in one shop some shop girl was going on about S&C to her coworker, spoiling the whole movie! I wanted to scream at her to shut her mouth but I just hummed to myself instead. Guilty pleasures don't come often so when they do I like to see them unspoiled.

Maybe just to spite her I looked and pulled, touched and fiddled with everything I saw in the store - without making a purchase. Ha! So there.

Then again I still have nothing to wear now. I think maybe that one back fired on me. I do have my 'skinny Sarah Jessica' black jeans from the gap with me though. That counts. Right? No heels though. Guess I'll be the Butch one of the ultra girlie group tomorrow- oh I'll be Miranda! Hurrah! Problem solved.

Toast to my faboo Sunday!

UPDATE: (So I put something together - it was fun but the Cosmo's were the smallest in the world - as my facial expression clearly points out. Still I had no problem spilling half of it on my dress right after this was taken)

Jump Inside the Small Screen

2008-05-29T20:24:00.003-04:00

TV, TV and more TV.

Film? Been there, done that. Theater? Apparently 10 weeks is enough. Now it's onto their love child, a lovable little scamp that the world can't resist taking into its living room, and sometimes bathroom- when the moods right. (Or did I mean bedroom? No. No. Bathroom.)

I have to say I've always loved TV with a passion, so I never thought of writing for it because it's my escape in life. I didn't want to lose that. Having said that it's hard not to analysis it now that I've worked so much in the other two mediums. Having this term plunge me right into the heart of it (Soaps) I'm thinking maybe I should think seriously about this.

You can't make a living as a playwright, this has been ingrained into me since I first wrote one in junior high school. It hasn't stopped me from doing it obviously. But I do have other interests (surprise -surprise) such as film and now TV to possibly explore the idea that maybe one day with more work and the right connections (cough - HR2 and her fab new job at the BBC? - no no - we won't harass friends.)

(even though that is what they are there for. Right? Wink. Wink. Nudge. Nudge. ) Anywho not going to lie, it's late and I'm tired but I wanted to share two blog sites I stumbled upon while at lit agency today, in between reading script submissions of course - (it was one of those days where the scripts I got, I didn't know if I should laugh or cry - that's not a good thing people.)

Aspiring Writer
This is a girl working in a agency - lit? and looking to be a TV writer - she's funny and gives a fun look into her new LA world. Having been there done that I feel for her.

Jane Espenson
Jane's at the other end. She really has been there done that and succeeded. She's an old hat at the TV game. But she writes a blog for new writers and it's really funny yet educational.

If I had the talent of the blogger I'd like to write like these chicks. SO enjoy.

PS The pilot of Greek was shown today in little old Britain - a little later then back home but I really got hooked and although the rest of the world's seen what happens it looks like it's summer rerun time for me - oh wait modern times - hello Netflix DVD!

Gangs of London

2008-05-26T19:24:00.004-04:00

I was attacked by 11 year old boys on a bus. I'm starting to really hate this city.

Heading to HR2's house for a night of drinking with her and her roommates, I almost didn't go. I still had homework to do and no money to spend but I needed to get out. If only for a bit. And whats the harm in that? So I get on the bus and I'm a few stops into my journey when all the sudden this gang of 11 year old boys (maybe younger or older) appear in hysterics about how they had just got away with something. They banged on the window at some poor soul outside screaming obscenities.
One of them boasted "I hit him with a rock."
Another asks "Where?"
He thinks for a moment "His head."
All of them burst out laughing.
"I can't believe we got away!" and they go on joking and laughing as a boys do.

As the bus drives along they continue to heckle people outside banging on the glass. Then all the sudden they stop. The silence is eerie. I think - what's happening? Because I'm at the front of the bus, and they are behind me. It's a double Decker, and we are up top. But I know they didn't leave. I heard whispers and then suddenly out of nowhere something goes flying by my head. Aimed for me. I turn around for the first time at the monsters and they look up, wide eyed but not so innocent. Pointing to each other. "He did it." "What are you looking at"
Then a girl, around sixteen gets off. "You guys are disrespectful" she says and leaves.
They remain staring me down. Once she disappears down the stairs they begin with their evil faces. "What!"

And this is when I could have turned around but I couldn't because I didn't trust them. I knew they would have kept chucking things at my head until they got it right. Who knows what else they had with them?

So I said "What's your problem."
This gets them started.
They charge toward me. In my face.
I say 'I'll call the cops'' and the ring leader, smug says in his broken hackney accent ''My dad is a cop. What's he going to do? Nothing!"
And I tell him that explains his behavioral problems.
One of them pulls my hair so I aim to smack him but he doges and I hit another one instead. The boy I hit looks stunned, probably the first time some one defended themselves against them. It was a light smack on the shoulder but probably the only discipline these boys have ever had. (But once I'm being physically attacked I don't care how old you are, what you are, I'm defending myself and attacking back. )

I yell at them to get off the bus that I'd call the cops anyway. But one of them says 'this is our stop." And they all agree and run off yelling "Spaz" "Call the cops" and go on about how they got away.... again.

The Bus drives off and I'm shaking with anger. How can some one let there kid do this? Run around like animals attacking stranger's? And it made me think of Edward Bonds Play "Saved" were the teens stone a baby to death in the carriage. That's what these boys were. Right now it's people's heads but what will it be tomorrow? No one is stopping them. The bus driver heard everything and kept on. No other adult on the bus stepped in. They got away onto their next victim.

London says it has a problem with teen gangs and violence but that's because they let it happen. Watch it start at eleven until they're a few years old, stronger and more daring because no one ever said no. Everyone turns a blind eye. That's how it happens. They should have learned that by now. Doing nothing is the same as giving permission to let something happen.

ZZZZZZZZ

2008-05-22T07:54:00.002-04:00

You know what would be really good right now? A large NY style bagel with soft whipped cream cheese, a juniors cheese cake and a cappuccino. Then a soft comfy bed to sleep and sleep and sleep. When I wake a quite room, with lots of sun light and a computer and endless amounts of time to write and read. Oh and a big screen TV when I get tired of both to escape into.

Yea, that be really nice.

AROUND TOWN

2008-05-18T10:00:00.000-04:00

Just some random photos I snapped while living in London:

Red Fools Married to Hate

2008-05-17T08:56:00.006-04:00

So I'm innocently researching for my master thesis - families portrayed on stage - three sisters yata yata and I come to a link that says something like "I'll marry my brother so deal with it'' and I think is this a play? So I click and it leads me to www.redstate.com. That's when I got scared.

It was some redneck writing about if gay marriage is legal then he can marry his brother because it makes the same amount of sense. (Well you're probably from the South so in that case I guess it already is legal for you Billy Bob) I almost vomited when I read it. Then the comments of other like mined morons were typing happily away of why it's wrong for gays to marry. One said now two gay pedophiles can marry and adopt kids. I wanted to throw the computer out the window. DO people really go through life thinking this way? A pedophile is a pedophile, not a gay man and a pedophile is usually married with kids to a woman. And it was probably YOU the one who left the comment that's the peddy.

Sometimes I really hate. But it's not to people in love who want to express it, it's to people who can't see the truth beyond themselves and so they try to kill anything that doesn't agree with ma and pa's beliefs and there brainwashing. Let me clarify, stupid people. If a man and a man or a woman and a woman love each other they should be able to live in that love, with that love like any other couple. Most marriages I've witnessed in my life don't last, most straight couples I know don't or haven't lasted but the majority of the gay couples I do have been going strong.

We are beyond religion, it's on to laws and taxes, the right to visit a loved one in the hospital to raise your kids and live happy healthy lives by sharing in health benefits to start. Any man and woman not in love can get married for citizenship, tax cuts and so on. So saying that's why gays want it is ridiculous! If they wanted it for fraudulent reasons they'd marry the opposite sex you retards!

I'm just so angry! Then I think I should write my frustration down in a play but to be a constructive piece of work I'd have to look fairly at both sides - you have to like all of your characters in some way or it becomes one dimensional when you write them. But I don't like these - I can't even call them people! They are just fools. And I hope their children grow up gay and proud and wave it in their idiotic faces. Then maybe they can walk their son and his lover down the isle. Maybe they can witness whats really going on, love. Pure and simple.

Leaving London

2008-05-15T14:45:00.009-04:00

My milk is spoiled, my frozen foods are spoiled and my coffee is mostly Baileys. That pretty much says it all.

Life's been crazy, with only four weeks left of my London journey I'm in world of hurry. I spent last weekend with HR2 in her home town of Burnley which is somewhere out of Manchester. Her mother put us up and cooked the most amazing breakfast foods I've ever had. All from scratch. Then her kind brother, sister-in- law and little baby nephew showed me the sights. With in one day we saw country side, ruined castle, a witches home, graveyards, a small village town and well whatever else there is in the North of England. But it was my goal this term to get out of London and see what else the UK had to offer.

Before I leave I'm going to go explore Oxford or Cambridge because apparently they make for a good day trip as well.

All of HR2's family thought it funny that GT and I are inviting her to stay with us NYC and I'd said I'll also show her my home town of Miami ,FL while she shows me around a town most people in the UK have never heard of. Everyone says she got the better deal but I'm not so sure. Having grown up and living in the flat suburban sprawl that is Florida, no that is America it was nice to see a bit of country side. I mean these village are ancient. You don't find that back home. That's something I was excited to see, something older then hundred years. They showed it to me. So now I'll show it to you!

Past Page Ten. But then what?

2008-05-07T18:08:00.007-04:00

I began my higher education as an Undergraduate student in the world of film and screenplays. Last term as a Graduate student I jumped head first into the world of Theater and Playwriting. Having always had a deep passion for it I learned a lot and became hella inspired. This term however I seem to be straddling the two worlds of Film/TV and Theater. Even though I escaped to England in order to discover the world of writing for the wooden boards, life seems to be pulling me back into the screen and taking me one step further from the stage.

While we are meant to be concentrating this term on our chosen major interest I find myself torn. Our lecturer's on television writing are being bogged down into several short lessons culminating into a three page pitch for our own original TV series.

Something I never thought of doing until I've just been forced to is write for TV. Don't get me wrong- I love the stuff - but to create it? It seems for some reason never to of accrued to me to even try. And all the sudden I realized some of the scripts I've written - that just seemed to be missing something - turns out that something was just a smaller screen! Excited and flooded with ides (I know will never leave my page) I'm motivated into a new direction.

But lets me honest here, it doesn't take much to get me off on a tangent. Does it? Inspiration comes at the flick of a finger to me. It's the ADD probably but while I'm meant to figure out what my thesis play will be I've lost myself in older plays I'm still working on and can't seem to let go. It's no help having this new toy of 'writing for TV' and the never ending stream of scripts I have to read and report on in my new internship blocking my thought process.

Being as busy as I am I've plum forgot to say! I've started an internship at a literary agency in the heart of Camden Town. I work for the (what else) TV&Film department. Unlike some internships in the past (hell even full on salaried jobs) I'm actually enjoying myself and the work! I get handed a script - read and report. One after the other. I mean it's not anything new for me, only I get to sit in an office and do it in the hours in which people work. For some reason that makes it that much more comfortable. Don't get me wrong it's not easy to always give a report on a script, what it's essence is and then give advice on whether it hits the mark or not because there is a writer behind every submission.

A writer like me and I know what it's like to be rejected over and over again (which always makes that one acceptance so much sweeter. Doesn't it?) So unlike other readers who give you up until page ten to make it or break it, I give the benefit of the doubt and continue on because sometimes it's page 11 that's genius and for others it may be brilliant up until page 11 (which I found out recently - because I read on). If talent can be found among the ramble then I'll try and find it.

SO what does all this mean? I came to London to hone my playwriting skills but on top of it I ended up falling in love with TV/Film all over again and perhaps found a new passion for scripts themselves. Not just mine, I mean others. Finding talent and saying 'wow nice job' (I wish I wrote that) or 'there just may be something there - it's just not fully discovered yet. But keep at it.'- But I could say that to myself, couldn't I? A future - a goal? It's there murking about but I don't think I've pin pointed it just yet, which leaves my own script a bit open ended. And who the hell is gonna write that? If only there were dramagturge's and script editors giving reports on your life and handing out helpful suggestions for improving character journeys.

Brighton Beach Memoirs

2008-05-05T06:33:00.005-04:00

I set the task to explore the worlds outside of London this term and so far it's being carried out.

Yesterday was spent in Brighton. This short hop and a skip form London brings you to the English sea side. The beaches covered in pebbles, striped wooden foldout chairs one would see in classic post cards of the early part of the last century where being stacked away. Missing were the beach huts and long striped swim suites. Replaced by hen and stag parties wearing low rider jeans. The Pier was what you would expect, loads of yummy fatty foods like homemade donuts, ice cream and shell fish stands. A few rides to the back and an arcade. But I didn't spend long on the Pier.

Saturday night HR2 and I headed over to V's for a slumber party. The three of us gobbled down pizza, drank wine, watched some telly and passed out. It was a nice change of pace. It also allowed me to travel to Essex. A bit of country air.

The next morning V's boyfriend W drove us to Brighton. We of course got into some heavy traffic. It's a three day weekend this week and there was a large festival happened in Brighton so of course the world was headed there as well.

We made it just in time to see the play Mojo at a small community theater where one of our class mates works with. The bad thing about it was I've never been to Brighton, it was a beautiful day out and I had to spend the first 2.5 hours of it in a darken room watching a play I didn't really like. I know that's why we went down there but still! Matinees on a beautiful Sunday should be illegal. I'm just saying.

After I went with V and W to drop of their car. We drove around lost for a bit which was fun because it allowed me to see more. It kind of looks like San Francisco. That would be the best comparison in America I can think of, or that I've been too.

After W told V and I to walk back and he'll continue to find parking. So we wandered by the Pier for a quick spin and then off to meet everyone back in the Pub. We ate and drank the day and night away. I had a beef Sunday roast to add to my English experience. Unfortunately I was so stuffed I couldn't drink anymore wine either. (We started our drinking at 2.30 I think.) SO when everyone was properly drunk and I was just tired and full HR2 and I took the last train back to the city where we then parted ways. I found my way back to the dorms and fell into a nice relaxed deep sleep.

Sorry in retelling it I've made it all seem soooo boring but it wasn't. It was a pleasant day trip out of the city. Nothing wacky happened, no fights in streets or anything like that just peaceful. Sometimes it's nice to be able to say I just enjoyed a day.

(Next weekend I head out to the real country with my friend HR2 to visit her family but all
ready I forgot where that is?)

BLAH All around

2008-05-03T03:40:00.003-04:00

The weather has been classic London Three seasons in one day style and it's making me nuts.

Yesterday I used the gym as an excuse to leave the tiny cell I live in. So when I left it was a bit muggy out but nothing to write home about. Then as I was walking to the gym it began to pour on me. I mean when I stepped into the gym I looked like I had just stepped out of the shower, with all my clothes and sneakers on. Then of course when I left it was as if the sky had never heard of rain. I took of my soggy layer of sweats and wandered about in my running pants and t-shirt.

I'm looking outside now and it looks beautiful but I don't trust it. If I do go out it will be in full rain/winter/ gear. If I go out. A few of us were supposed to see a show in Southampton called Delirium but it got cancelled because an actor was sick or hurt. SO now plans are up in the air. Which is fine but I've been in this room for two days and need to get out. Badly!

I should be doing my homework. We have to write a three page pitch for an original TV show and develop one character enough to Hot Seat it in class on Weds but I'm in no mood to do this. I don't even think my idea is that strong. Mainly because I made it up on the spot when we had to pitch them last wed in class. I'm having a real lack of want this term. All I ever want to do is sleep or eat nothing else. Not much of a driving force in that. Perhaps when my work experience starts next Tues I'll find myself wanting to write more, tired of the office work. Lets hope so or this will be a long six weeks.

Thesis Anyone?

2008-05-02T04:55:00.004-04:00

No more stalling! Off to write my paragraph for my thesis proposal. Oy! Lear! Oh Lear! I'm not sure you helped me much my dear. I'm thinking something with THREE SISTERS on stage? Like Checkov's, Tracy's, Samuels, Wasserstein, Shakespeare? OR Maybe branch out to siblings? Add a bit of brother/brother action and include LaBute, Shepard, Penhall, Pinter? But why stop there?! Add the Bother/ Sister and you have some more Shepard, Rapp oh but maybe some Mother / Daughter battle which includes Norman, Tracy, McDonagh, oh no! I must stop and pick one! But what am I picking exactly? --- and scene.

Nice job but a little too much on the manic side. Next time reel it in a bit love.

Seriously, I need too! That was my thinking this week when I had to turn in my thesis proposal. Well I had to pitch it really but we ran out of time in class so A the Italian and I had to go to the pub with our Tutor to get our pitches done. A's doing something with political satire, because she's Italian and I'm doing the messed up family lot because I'm American?

So when you and your Tutor are both drinking a glass of red the pitch sounds way more interesting then it really is. Funny how these things work out. But not funny ha ha because it's not done. She likes the concept but says to pick one and stick with it. Whichever one I'm most interested in. It has to be something I want to discover. What do I want to discover? More importantly what do I want to discover that will fill several thousand words? Oh theater Gods send me a sign!

A Preview?

2008-04-28T02:41:00.003-04:00

This weekend was well fun. I hung with HR2 and we watched every British TV show imaginable. I have to say I still prefer American TV by Far! By way way way FAR in fact. The only British shows I've seem to like are "Coupling" "Extras" "Cranford" and most documentaries and well I think that about covers it. I really did want to like them - I promise! But you can't force these things I suppose.

My way to HR2 began Saturday, which was beautiful out! It immediately lifted my spirits to see spring has really sprung. A small preview of summer, it seemed to only last until early afternoon. But I'll take what I can get.

At the bus I tapped my card to the machine and it blinked NO MONEY! I gave a big sigh and wandered off looking scared and desperate. Everyone else got on and then the Bus Driver said "Hey" So I turned to him with big puppy dog eyes and he nodded for me to enter. "Oh thank you! Thank you!" I beamed and headed upstairs to take a seat. Sucker! I thought as I put my book bag down on the seat next to me so I could have it all to myself.

I hopped off at the Angel Station where I tapped my card to the machine again, this time to collect the money I had topped it off with online. Stupid system if you ask me. (Which no one clearly did.) You can add money to a card online but you have to go to the station you "nominate" and touch your card there for the money to be put on all the way. So why go online to put money on it at all - If you still have to go to the station to really do it? Not very bright, is it?

Any who! I made my way to the South Side. Our first order of business was to have a drink at a pub to celebrate the warmth. Then our marathon of viewing began back at her flat. I think I blocked out all the bad shows by now, honestly. (Run down: The Bill, East Enders, Neighbors, Holly Oaks, Casualties, Doctors, and a million more "village feel good shows and soaps".) We watched until past midnight when we realized just what time it was! So we headed over to another pub where her roommate was DJ'ing. There were like three people having separate birthday parties there so it felt like we were crashing something.

By the time we got there everyone was pissed drunk. They were so drunk they all danced in the strangest way, as if someone broke their legs. They all moved to one side, butt shaking, and bobbing their head up and down. This one clown was making a big show of his dance skills, in his mind he was doing these amazing moves but in reality he just looked like a wanker with two left feet. He kept trying to get this one girl to dance with him but she kept spinning away. I was getting annoyed because no matter where I moved too he was still bumping into me. Making his circle larger and larger. There was also this little drunk man who had his hand in his sleeve and his knees bent. At first I thought maybe he was retarded, but it would seem only socially because he too was on the lady attack with very little success. When I saw him eye us I quickly moved out of his path.

After a bit of people watching some tall bloke began to talk in HR2's ear. She told me after that he said "Why are you still here? You look like you are waiting for a bomb to go off." She just shrugged and turned the other way. Unsure of how he even got close enough to talk to her. Soon he got the hint and headed out with some blonde. After a bit of this and two horribly made drinks we left back to watch more TV.

I crashed at her place since the trains stop at like midnight. Then Sunday morning I headed back to the dorms. On the train this woman walks up to me, baby in hand and thrusts a paper cup in my face for money. I gave her a dirty look and went about my reading. I was the only person she did this too. She then angerly sat down, glaring at me. After a moment I thought maybe, just maybe I was supposed to give her the .90 pents I didn't have to give to the bus when the driver let me ride it for free? You know that whole thing of passing it forward? But then I thought 'fuck that bitch.' Why does she have a kid if she's so poor? Why not sell it to Angelina or Madonna and be done with it? It's not my fault your poor. But don't ask me lady. I've got a 20,000 dollar loan to pay off come August, out of work for a year and I still have $10,000 more to find for next years tuition. I'm the last person on that train to be shoving your ripped paper cup at!

So I didn't giver her the change. It's not like I'm going to sit there open up my wallet and fiddle for something. She was so rude I bet had I done it and gave her something she would have continued to jingle the cup until my wallet was empty. (I think I actually had 5 pounds on me. Which is more then I usually have.)

After that nothing to exciting happened. Just came back to the dorm where I couldn't be creative. I have this opportunity (with my school) to write a short film for an acting class that will be filmed next year and screened in front of industry types but I'm blank. For the first time I got nothing. No idea what to write. Nothing to say. Nothing I want to say. Which isn't good. because if I want to work in this business when some one gives you some guidelines and says okay now write me something I should be able to do it. But feel I've spent the last five months in the world of theater and playwriting that I can't get my head back around film. Frustrated with my lack of want and creativity I feel asleep which lead to my freaky dreams from before.

His Magesty Lear and I

2008-04-28T01:40:00.006-04:00

So I spent my alone day with London at The Globe Theater with King Lear and his daughters. His youngest seemed nice enough but something about those other two, I don't know. Can't quite put my finger on it. All I know is I wouldn't trust them with a pot of dirt let alone my kingdom. But as a guest it wasn't my place to say anything.

I was surprised to see I wasn't the only lone 20 something year old in for a day at the globe. This was a 3 hour and 20 min show smack in the middle of Friday afternoon. So I debated whether or not I should pay the 5 pounds to stand or the 33 pounds to sit. Well, I thought to myself this is my first Globe experience and it may just be part of my thesis research paper for my masters as well, so why not (even though I'm broke) shell out the money to enjoy it with good seats, so if I need too I can scribble notes easier as well. And just like that the guilt for spending all 25 pounds more vanished. It turned out to be a smart move because no one came to sit next to me on one side so I scooted down and had space on my (bench )seat to spread out. (Note: I took the pictures shown here from my seat.)

It seemed like the Theater Gods had a strange sense of humour that Friday afternoon at the Globe because the weirdest thing happened. Just when the storm began in the show, when Lear wanders around, banished by his daughters, half crazy and the extra actors bounce around in the audience with their rain sticks and the band in the balcony beats their thunder screen, is when the real heavens began to open wide and took a whiz on all the groundlings!

As the Globe theater, based on the original theater Shakespeare worked in, is out doors - in a sense - there is only a roof over the audience in the stands and the stage - not in the center where the groundlings stand. So they all got drenched. I remained happily dry. But the expressions on people's faces when they realised the weather was mimicking the play was priceless because when the rain in the show stopped so too did the real rain outside.

Then another strange happening accrued. When one of the daughters and her husband pulled out the eyes of Gloucester did a young woman, in the audience, one of the groundlings begin to cry. She was ushered out by a Stewart in the exact same manner as the now blind Gloucester was by the Dukes servant. This was happening at the same time. Very strange.

But after the show, which I thoroughly enjoyed, and I don't think it's because I'm a theater geek, okay maybe, but because they put on a really good show, and well why wouldn't they? They are the Globe for crying out loud! But the one thing I was annoyed at was the school kids sitting by me. A group of like eight of them were so annoying through out the whole show I found it hard to concentrate. (That and I forgot my glasses) But at the end they gave the actors a standing O! They applauded their hearts out. Why is it school kids give the most trouble during a performance but always seem to give the best applause at the end?? (I've notice this in other shows as well.)

But I tried not to let their comments and giggles bother me. I swear they were watching Ricki or Maury the way they reacted! Well maybe that's not too far off than it you think about it. I'm just saying they should have been in the standing section not in the seats. Wow Hollie elitist much? Guess I'm headed in that direction. Which is funny because they probably had more money in their pockets than me.

Dream A Little Dream For Me

2008-04-28T00:22:00.003-04:00

5:30 am. I've had strange dream after strange dream. One more vivid than the next.

It began like this - I was at the counter in the kitchen of the house I grew up in. (A blue counter) A box of medicine had come in the mail for me. It was sitting there but I couldn't figure out what it was for. A TV appears in the living room (where it used to be in this house) and a commercial for the medicine comes on but it's also vague. All I remember are "eye crusts" and bad graphics. The people with me are my Aunt J ( but only her voice) and these two guys who were meant to be my step dads kids, but I've never seen them before. We talked in circles while I began to snap my fingers on my left hand right off. I kept remarking to them that my medicine box told me to eat my fingers and then bandage them up. But after I snapped them off they would still be there. Only they'd hurt and the discarded finger was dangling on the palm side of my hand. I swallowed it and bandage my finger up. Then I'd continue to snap and bandage the same finger. It was either my ring or middle finger. Then at one point I bandaged them both. But I didn't eat any more of them. I put the medicine box in the cabinet for later.

At another point I was in a play. A play that seemed to be done on the right side of my brain. It was a naturalistic play. The stage was the floor and the audience sat on risers. At one point I was to grab the audience and try and put them in the prop bag but the gag was they would run away to the next set. Then I'd bring the props back on the stage and the next play, at a table with three other people, began. The covering was a shack, almost. Or a barn. The prop bag was blue. It held toys I used to play with in the bath as a kid, Naked plastic dolls, bottles and sponges. Weird things I guess when you think about it.

There were even stranger bits that happened in between but I know your reading this dad, so I'll spare you. My point is I've developed this pattern of sleep. At six pm I begin to get ridiculously tired. Then I wake up at 9pm and fall back to sleep around 2am. But then I wake up every two hours and I force myself to go back to sleep so I can wake in the morning like a normal person. But that's when the dreams happen, when I force myself to go back to sleep. One stranger and louder than the next. Yelling out at me. Screaming at me. When I wake up it's quite and I think was their music playing my dream?

When I woke up it was because I blew up the barn theater in my head, so I could see the sky. My dreaming self who was on the stage just smiled up at the night sky. (Actually I think dawn was breaking)

So I got out of bed, bewildered and began searching online for a meaning. "The fingers" I kept thinking. "The fingers" The only meanings where if your fingers are chopped off clean then apparently I'll lose wealth (but I don't got any) or I'm trying to tell myself something phallic. Either way it's not looking to healthy. So whats the point of all that noise floating around my head if I can't make out the words?

A Day of Adventure? Or Boredom?

2008-04-25T03:22:00.004-04:00

A whole day with dare I say no obligations?!

How can this be? No really how can this be? I had homework that I thought would take me all day but I did it in a couple of minutes (which probably means it's all wrong) and now I'm faced with a full free day?

If I were back home in NYC this would be like a gift from the heavens! I'd watch TV all day and probably never leave the couch but such days don't exist back home. And if they did I'm sure I'd probably find something to do. But here away from everyone and our nice big TV with a million channels I find myself disappointed that I have nowhere to be. But then I think, what the hell is wrong with me? I'm in London! I should go out and see a show at the Globe or take a tour of the British Library or the Portrait Gallery!

Don't just sit and muck about in the dorm room! Or what will have been the point of moving to another country for Grad school!?? Oh wonderful now I've just guilted myself into it. Okay. I accept your challenge Jewish Guilt. Out I go. 'Hello London. Today you're all mine.' I feel like it's our first date! Where will London and I go together? And if it buys me dinner do I put out? Maybe not if it's just fish and chips.

And Their OFF

2008-04-24T00:25:00.005-04:00

The good news is I'm not failing. Far from it. The bad news? I have another class to take.

Okay realistically speaking this isn't bad news either. This just means I don't have to come back to London for ten weeks next summer. I can be home in America and get a big people's job to start paying off my loan, while still paying for that years tuition. (Maybe thats the bad news?) I'll just pop in and out of London as I please because I will have finished all my classes this term and can return to NYC (in 2 months) to write my thesis (whatever that will be!) I have a week to figure it out. Then a whole year to get them both done. The research paper and the Script.

The extra class buissness based, which is fine. I mean writing scripts is a business and I should know what's expected of me. (I know the basics but it's good to rehash.)

I found out about the class while in my tutorial yesterday. The powers that be had forgotten I was a full time student (as everyone else is part time) and apologized for my having already missed one of the classes. Actually, it was a good thing I had missed it. They were talking about treatments and since I have a BA in film production I would hope I've covered that already.

So rather than sit in a refresher class last Tuesday night, me and the gals - HR2 and VD - were drinking it up at the Royal Court Theater with our good old pal Joe Penhall. HR2 knew Joe was going to be there that night (like the proper stalker she is) and some how we found ourselves escorted up by the Royal Court Theater staff and offered glasses of free wine. Thinking we had crashed a party we waited politley for an opening so we could say our hellos to Joe - who in turn joined us for a drink. He had lectured us at uni last term (and joined in at the pub where we had a most interesting conversation about how I have no qualms of being a screenwriting sell out. Mostly I was egging him on after he told us he was one of the original writers on King of Scotland but left because of issues with the script and producers. He remembered the convo we had had last term Tues night but not who it was who aid it from our class and the exact exchange. His bringing it up made all VD and HR2 giggle but we never let on it was I who said it. They did an impressive job at keeping a straight face.)

I have to say Joe is a really down to earth guy. He chats openly about the business but never in a discouraging way. He even introduced us to the Literary Manager at the Royal Court, a producer, director and an actor. Referring to us as his students (which technically I guess we are). The Lit manager encouraged us to submit our work and of course HR2 already has hers on the way. This HR has yet to do so. Guess I do need those business classes after all.

It's just strange how these things work out, isn't it? It may have seemed like a mistake that I was not put into the extra Business classes but on the other hand I'd much rather be meeting literary managers and schmoozing with a writer I admire then rehashing an old topic I've covered a few years back. So what's the harm in missing one class?

The Term has only just begun and suddenly I realised I have a lot of deadlines already looming ahead of me. And an internship that should be starting soon. Not to mention my dreaded thesis project which I have yet to conceive - seems to be mocking me off in the distance. Somewhere. I can hear it but I can't see it. If I could see it, well then at least I'd know what the hell to research!

5:30 am and I am dressed and ready for the gym. (It doesn't open until 6:30) Tonight I have a play to see by David Edgar and homework to do in between. The term has officially begun! And already I'm having sleeping problems!

How Hard Can a Jump Across the Pond Be?

2008-04-22T00:22:00.005-04:00

So I've made my way over from New York City back to London for another nine weeks of classes.

The flight was delayed for an hour. An hour I should say sitting in the plane - on the runway. Of course I freaked myself out because I got to the plane just in time to board - so I had no pre-drink phase to go through. I sat working my sober mind all up to a near panic attack so that when the plane finally did take off I was so over being scared I just wanted to get up and use the bathroom. In a weird way it kind of worked out. I was fine for the whole flight. That didn't stop me from drinking two small bottles of wine though. (which I regretted greatly when I landed.)

We landed in the middle of nowhere. We had to sit and wait for a bus to come and take us to our terminal. Apparently, there was a bit of an over crowding at Heathrow. So after a few minutes we got on the bus and it took us around in what seemed like a large circle - though it was cool being so small on the runway and seeing just how big the planes really are from the ground - I was in too much pain to care. Also being able to see just where our luggage goes was interesting - in a way. Sorry no small elves and a slave driver's whip. Just your average conveyor belts and machines. Where's the fun in that? I expected an Ogre or two keeping the hands moving. But no. I guess they layed them off coz of fuel prices? I wonder how one would lay off an Ogre? Something tells me they wouldn't take it well. I'd hate to be that HR person, that's for sure. Oh but I digress.

Back in good old terminal 4 I rushed to Customs expecting the usual in and out but oh no. The fact that they had to bus us from the plane should have been a clue of what was in store. We had a line like at Disney. Unfortunately for me I didn't have a VIP pass (IE a wheelchair person with me) So I waited what felt like forever. It was probably an hour. But after having an overnight flight - where I didn't sleep - and had a horrible hangover - I just wasn't in the mood to stand and wait for some one to look at my id and say 'what're you studying?' "Where?" and then 'how long?' followed by 'okay proceed.' Never really hearing my answer. I should have said 'Dark Arts. At Hogwarts.' His response 'What House?" "Uh Slytherin?" "Okay Proceed"

I'm allowed in the country so let me in already! I need pain killers and a toilet - stat! Some British hospitality this is. I stood in that line wanting to faint. It was so hot, I was over tired and my head felt like someone was squeezing it like a juicer. The worst part was the idiot that worked the line took a bunch of people from the back - behind me and moved them to a new line so they were now in front of me and using up the toll people I was waiting for - so in a sense I had to wait longer! How - Oh How does that make any sense? I wanted to climb over the disgruntled brew and ring her stupid little neck - then shove her face in the ground and say "No. Bad. Bad airport worker." But I didn't have a rolled up newspaper to hit her with - so I stood in my spot grinding my teeth watching all those dumb bastards smile and remark at their good fortune.

Out from the line I passed through the toll with no problem. Then I ran to my suitcase which of course was one of five making it's pathetic round on the carousel. I was ancy about it being there because they don't check the tickets to make sure it's your bag. You can just take any bag and go. Seems funny doesn't it? After an hour of waiting to be let into the country they don't seem to care once your there or what happens to your stuff. But let anyone get there hands on my dark magic material and bad things can happen!

If only! All I really had were some clothes and plays in there - and not nice clothes either - just collage wear. Mostly old with stains. One day, people, one day I won't be poor and oh how nice it will be to have big people's clothes - that maybe actually zip up and down - oh no! Wait! No zippers please. Buttons! I'll have big ol' fancy buttons! To put into holes. And you know what? It will be the actual button that came with the shirt! I reckon' I'll look mighty fine in those! Then when I go to them there big cities they'll just up and put me in first class - thinking oh how fine I look and what a mistake they made putting me in coach at the back of the plane. It won't stop there - oh no sir's. They'll take me off that big fancy bird in a carriage run by six men of muscles bulging in nothing but a loin clothe. Then one of them burly gents feeds me grapes as I'm whisked away to my limo - past all the lines and bureaucracy. They'll get some poor soul to stand in for me. Oh my how mighty fine it'll all be. If only I had me some buttons.

Stinky Fish But Yummy Chips

2008-04-20T12:44:00.005-04:00

It's that time again when I head back to the motherland to finish what I have started. So you better have some chips and fish waiting for me woman or you'll see the back of me hand!

Class starts Monday night, I can't say I'll be very chipper as I'll have just flown in that morning. The world by now knows I can't sleep on planes. I can get real drunk on them, watch TV and eat but not sleep. So this shall be a loooooooooooooooooooong day for me.

Already I feel spasms of nerves running through me. Some red wine should fix that nice and good. I should feel relaxed because I've finished editing the two music video's for the Band ZANDELLE and got them done on time. But I have yet to write an idea for my thesis and now I've run out of excuses and time. What to write? Maybe I'll make use of my flight time and be productive--- who am I kidding? I'll get drunk and watch some bad kid movie like High School the Musical 2 back for vengeance instead.

Ah well... time to begin the drink. Watch out London baby this yank is on the move!

ps- when i get the okay from the band I'll post a little sneaky peek at the two video's!

A DAY OF Chill-axin

2008-04-13T18:57:00.005-04:00

Days off are nice now and then. Just chill-axin. No work will I do today, that's for sure. I mean that's what Sundays were invented for. Right?

Since one week remains before classes begin again, I think the less stress the better. Start with a clean slate this term. Although I do have one more music video to edit and an idea for my thesis play and paper to come up with before I leave. Other then that I'm good to go.

I was starting to get ancy this week on vacation. Because I've run out of hours in the day to get it all done. SO many people I wasn't able to get together with, several scenes I wasn't able to write for either of my scripts. (One re-write has taken too long and now the time is conflicting with my new play) But always keep moving forward.

So now it's just double the load of outside school work to do. Which is fine because time is what I've got - in London. (Not NYC) Which is one of the reasons I am doing my masters in another country. It means I have to do it, all of it - because there are no excuses and no distractions. No 'oh my dog ate my home work.' No she didn't because she's back in another country peeing on the rug. You see? I'm away form everything so if the excuses don't work then the guilt does.

Oh the guilt, for leaving home for so long. Coz you don't just effect you, you effect others... like GT who has to live all alone while I'm living all alone across the pond. He even lost me as an excuse to get out of annoying situations. Which is one of the best parts of having a significant other - So in turn I better get my masters or I'll never hear the end of it (but even as I write this he's singing so I can't concentrate even on this blog. That's my point - I need to be isolated to get anything done. Which isn't good. My friend CS's boyfriend has full blown conversations with video games while she works at her computer - starting her own business. To her the noise filters out behind her. I wish it did for me. But it doesn't. I don't mean GT - I mean everyday life surrounds my ears yelling for attention. So away I go. For some reason it works for me to leave it all behind - if only for the 2 months.

But the down side is when I do come home, forget about it. No time to do anything because I'm too busy doing everything. Catching up takes a lot out of you. And yet it still adds on 7 pounds. Coz the way to catch up apparently is to eat, snack or drink. You can't just meet up with a person with out in-taking something. If you can then what the hell are you doing? I wanna know.

Despite the weight gain and the to do list getting long and longer It was good to come home for a bit and unwind the best i can. So now, if you'll excuse me I have some nothingness to catch up on (by that I mean bad TV) -(did I mention I also have to watch some soap opera's for class? Uh!)

A Theater Whore

2008-04-08T16:14:00.003-04:00

Having time to roam the city is nice indeed, I just wish I had the money to see shows (or - that shows were affordable like they are in London.)

I saw about 3 to 2 shows a week in London, paying only five to ten pounds per show. Here you need 50 to over 100 to see something. (Or 20 bucks for off off off B'way) So instead of waiting in line for the lotto or student rush tickets I just blew one ticket price at my favorite store The Drama Book Shop. I bought eight different plays for the price of one Broadway Show! (That's even with my Dramatists Discount).

When I think about how much money I've invested into the theater it makes me wonder when will it ever invest in me?I have about 150 plays - round to a price tag and that's like almost 2,00o dollars worth of scripts just sitting on my shelf. You add every show I've ever seen, plus every show I've ever paid to put on as writer, director, or producer - then add the head shots - printing my scripts - postage for script submissions - classes - 'how to books' and I'd say the cost of my masters degree is equal to the cost I've already invested into this hullabaloo. That's a huge chunk of change. (I didn't even add in the amount of hours working backstage, on stage, side of the stage - I've put into it as well.)

The saddest part is I can't stop. More and more will go into it. I doubt very much it will ever come back. I'm not asking for a refund of 100,000 (because I'm sure after ten more years of this it will be about there. If not already.) I'm just asking for steady work. I don't need to be rich, just employed. Maybe break even at some point? But I'm not picky.

Oh why couldn't I have an addiction that's a bit more profitable - like porn? Is is too late to change over? No. Most move a head. Vacation time is almost up and I have proposals for my thesis to write and Zandelle's new music video's to edit. (So much for spring break)

Honey I'm Home!

2008-04-01T15:55:00.005-04:00

I turned in my final portfolio a few hours late today and it's raging with spelling errors and common grammar mistakes, true to Hollie fashion but being on the road and having returned to America's wang after a year's absence my family took up more of my time then I expected. So the final project is not as polished as it should be for some one who gave up everything to move to another country and work towards her masters. (The guilt lives on)

It's nice to be treated to free lodging, entertainment and many large meals when visiting South Florida but I've gained five pounds in six days on this trip. Meanwhile, everyone gasped at how much weight I lost in London. They all asked me if it felt good to finally be skinny as they order a second round of deserts for me. First of all was I that fat before? Second of all if I was, I will be again if I keep eating with these people.

I tried my bikini on in Brooklyn before we drove down to America's tip and was very impressed with myself. However, when it came time to going to the beach after a week of South Florida living (eating) and of driving around, not walking everywhere, with very little exercises in between, I felt I had to wear the one piece instead of the two. (It's a bit of an over reaction I know but I'm what all the female magazines target. A healthy woman who becomes convinced she shouldn't show skin unless she resembles a computer generated flawless figure but in the flesh. In retrospect I should have been more concerned with my very white skin than with my rolls of fat. A little rub on tan wouldn't have killed me. Even a spray on would have been something.)

Now officially out of the South (a little pinker) and into the North GT and I vowed to eat healthy and go back to a regular exercise routine (I write as I sit eating and drinking at my computer while he begins his workout regiment)

Returning to Brooklyn really did feel like coming home yesterday. After driving along 95 for two days, past several states (and Maryland, which had the most annoying people on the road and in the rest stops. Although they didn't have signs on their doors saying they will serve anyone no matter what their race is like they had in South Carolina. Who must feel so advanced then the rest of the South.) After making my way through all that Brooklyn felt like heaven. Even fighting with little old ladies and former Italian gangsters in the grocery store this morning made me all weepy eyed for my return home. (My new home that is. This Southern Bell has turned full fledged yank. Sorry Florida, you won't have my democratic vote anymore.)

With only three weeks left before I have to go back over to the land that time forgot, with their funny little accents and aging queens (Elton not Elizabeth) I feel I have to soak up the Brooklyn life style while I can, whatever that means. But I'm sure I'll find out. And so will you.

SOUTH of anywhere

2008-03-26T17:53:00.005-04:00

You know you're in the South when you spend your afternoon in a gun range (that doesn't explain gun safety to a novice, because what are those?), the trucks have fuzzy confederate flag dice hanging from their review mirror and need a ladder to climb into, and when people consider 75 degrees to be a cold winter. Spring Break is going by so fast it's hard to keep up. With only a few days left in the South my Yankee Doody Dandy butt is headed back to New York for three weeks and then off I go again to our father's land to see the queen. Photo's of the two day drive down here to come ... it ain't over yet

Flying High

2008-03-18T12:21:00.004-04:00

I'm pretty sure I should get a gold star for last night. I flew from London to NYC and I didn't cry, I didn't panic, I didn't go crazy.

I sat on the plane like a big girl and ate all the food they gave me me (BA has the best airline food ever!) and watched all the many movies from the little screen in front of me. I was happy as can be. Yey! I may have licked my fear of flying yet!

Well, I shouldn't say that too soon. But it did seem to appear as if over night a few years back, after many years of travel. So why wouldn't it disappear as easily as it had come? For me it's the worst kind of fear because I'm a travel girl. And it really dampens a trip to have to take a 28 hour train ride when you can fly it in 3.

So hello NYC. You miss me baby? I know you did. I think we have lot of catching up to do...

On the Boats and One The Planes

2008-03-16T20:47:00.006-04:00

I'm coming to America .... today!

Well it's 12:40 am so technically it is today that I leave. My two huge bags and I are going to make our way across the pond. Marking my more than halfway point into my masters program it feels like I've only just begun.

I really just want to go home now. Burnt out. Over it. I need spring break.

This Mornings Show

2008-03-14T04:04:00.001-04:00

I awoke this morning to the sound of screaming crows.

A Grey Sky bellowed above, claws clutched at the dead as The Chorus hovered along peaks of bristled branches, ready for the show. First darkness illuminated, swirled around them as they flapped their wings to embrace the scene. Only no conductor was chosen to give them their cue. Time lost in their voices, rhythm destroyed.

One of the two young Foxes I've come to adore was ravaging a blackened object. A former bird? A rodent? I couldn't tell anymore then those screaming spectators who were waiting for a bite or were they having a go at the injustice they were witnessing? Maybe it was just a lighthearted serenade but without one to lead them their music became frayed.

I ran to get my camera but every shot came out underexposed, the distance too tight, a smudged window blocking most of the action, so I fiddled with keys, and settings, lightness to dark, look for sun, but look for clouds, no flash or I’ll only see myself staring back with hair like a mad woman, eyes red and puffy, limbs still asleep caught somehow in the glass missing the show.

Finally, happy with the selection of getting light but loosing it, my subject had snuck away. With him the Singing Chorus of Death had left without a bow or even a final act. No more requests, just off into the morning that was hatching above. Only its innards didn’t hold any more light then the sleeping hours before, calling the day to be a bit underexposed.

Suddenly aware of myself I draw the curtains. The camera gets tucked away. I long to fall back under, but without my darkened lullaby how could I? So I stayed in limbo waiting to see what else would draw me close, a song from screaming crows seemed to replay so I tucked myself back in and thought is that it for today?

Where did all this stuff come from?

2008-03-11T14:14:00.003-04:00

Why didn't I listen to HR when she said don't bring a lot of stuff to London. One bag. It's all you need. Well it's come down to packing time. Since I can't afford to take the Queen Mary home in July I have to fly. That means I have to get stuff home on this flight, so I can get the rest home on the next in July.

Now I have two gigantic bags and no way to get to the airport next week. Car service is so expensive but then again so is shipping my stuff home or buying new stuff. So economically speaking I'll be saving money if I get a cab this time and next, rather then only taking what I need home this time and just praying it will all fit in the summer.

Now the second problem. How do you know when your bag is over 50 pounds? Anyone? I don't. When I went to Los Vegas my bag was over and I had to pay something like 50 pucks for a few extra pounds. I can't afford 50 bucks when I just spent it on a cab. Why is travel so complicated? Can't I just climb in through my computer screen and be home?

You Talkin' To Me?

2008-03-09T14:59:00.005-04:00

After two hours of sleep on Saturday I got up, rubbed my eyes and out I went. On the bus to my class these three girls probably all 22 or 23 were chatting loudly. I couldn't help but over hear, I mean what else am I to do?
They talked about life, one of them was into playwriting I think, another one had a crush on a guy and so on. So naturally I tune in.
Then one of them said something that ended with '... like American high school students drinking milkshakes all the time.'
I meet her gaze and said ''I don't recall having milk shakes when I was in high school.''
She stared through me, 'Oh dear, I didn't know anyone was listening.''
Half yawning I say, ''well there is nothing else to do when your stuck on bus'' and everyone else is silent I thought.
Then she turned to her friends ''What a sociable person." They continued their conversation in whispers.

Well gee thanks for making me feel like an ass for speaking to you. I suppose that's the British way? In NYC you talk to people they usually talk back.

Little Wankers Mucking Up The Theater

2008-03-07T18:44:00.006-05:00

With the invention of myspace and facebook came a whole new way of advertising to the young masses. Theater companies have jumped onto this notion. Trying to get younger people into the audience, they create profiles and send out mass bulletins /emails of upcoming / current shows. Normally being bogged down with ads is a nuisance but not when it comes to the theater. This way I know what has just opened with links to reviews, photos and the box office. They usually offer deals as well, that's the main bit I enjoy. Not just cheap prices, but invites to talk backs, workshops and other fun programs.

Tonight I went to a Myspace night, where you pay 5 pounds for 5 tickets and you get a free drink coupon for each person, at the Royal Court to see Debbie Tucker Green's one woman show called Random. Nadine Marshall played about six different characters, focusing on one day in a family's life, which at first is normal but without any warning one of them dies. It explores the grief of the immediate family and the reactions of the people around them like the over dramatic co-workers who just show up at their doorstep with tears in their eyes, the police officers who wear their dirty boots on the Mothers clean carpet drink the fathers good tea and a 'home girl' singing a bad R&B tune.

The audience gets to really know this family through Marshall's portrayal and Green's poetic words. It's a very ambitious show. Marshall is alone on the large empty stage where you can see the rigs and brick of the back stage wall. She wears jeans, a dark t-shirt and a white hoody. She did an excellent job bringing you into this world and defining these characters so you always knew which one she had on but she didn't project loud enough and the directer had her in one spot for the full 50 mins. I felt like I wanted her to jump into my ipod where I could watch her performance on the tube because it felt like I was watching a long close up.

Though The Royal Court Theater has the most comfortable seats I have ever encountered in my lifetime of viewing shows, it was a miserable evening. The reason was the catch. When you get a sweet deal always be on the look out for the hidden ugliness. The seats were great, something like 6 row center from stage but the audience was made up of kids. Kids who no doubt would rather be anywhere else on a Friday night then watching a one woman show. These little buggers (preteens?) made it almost impossible to really get into what was happening on stage. Behind me these girls giggled and unwrapped a bag of sweets for 40 mins of the 50 min piece. I turned and gave a look, in which they only giggled more and started to mutter. I wanted to turn, back around, take their bag, dump it over their heads, and then push their little laughing faces onto the floor and make them eat the sweets all up. After I'd knock both of their heads together and throw their ungrateful arses out. But I didn't. I just leaned forwards and grumbled. Then of course during an emotional speech my cell goes off. A text from GT. At that point I thought 'Well, good thing I didn't smack those kids around, might come off as a bit hypocritical.' Wouldn't want that.

Still, you shouldn't force kids to see a show, coz they will only ruin it for the paying public. If you do take them in, gag them, take their sweets and tell them their favorite pet will die if they open their stupid little mouths.

But what do I know, I'm not a teacher or a parent. But if I was, they'd know to respect the theater. My one and only holy temple. Bit dramatic I know but it's 12:30am on a Friday.. well Saturday now really and I'm writing a blog, that no one will read, while my laundry tumbles away, trying to desperately get my homework done coz I have a full day of class in ten hours. Me up at 10:30 am? Blimey best not sleep than, aye mates?

* I've been creating a list of British slang. More on that soon.

A Snake in My Hand

2008-03-07T09:26:00.004-05:00

It's 2:30pm and I can't wake up. I didn't fall asleep until 7am so that may have something to do with it.

During my tossing and turning I had a dream that I rented a tiny snake, for what reason I can't remember. But the snake proved to be much stronger than I imagined and kept jumping out of my hand. I finally caught it but then it tried to slither up my nose into my brain. I fought it with all the energy I had. This snake wasn't big, not much bigger then my hand but it held tremendous strength.

Finally, I brought it to my cousin Andy who seemed to know just what to do. He put it into a Tupperware box that wouldn't stay closed. So every few minutes I would check the box, frightened the snake would escape while I slept and crawl up my nose. So I put it sideways on a shelf with a piece of wood holding it up. I still felt it could escape so I moved it to the back of the shelf where a dead bug found it's way to the top of the container. The snake jumped out of the box ate the bug. Happily it then went back into the box on it's own and stayed there.

I know snakes mean evil, treachery or sometimes wisdom and sexuality. While a Nose represents energy, intuition and wisdom as well. Also it can symbolize curiosity and suggest you need to know more about a situation.

The dream was so real that I feel worn out from my imaginary struggle. But that's all I feel. What is the point of a dream if you don't understand it? I mean, if it's symbolism is created for you to learn from it than how do you learn from it if you cannot understand what the symbols mean?

If Alice was sober - what would Wonderland be like?

2008-03-06T10:53:00.011-05:00

I took a break from my giant work load to party with Montana on Saturday night.

Her posse and I went from Bar to Bar and then to Club in the London fashion. Which is similar to NYC in a way except the Bars here close early. In this town, most looking for a decent night out have to end up in a club because they are open later. Having grown up in South Florida I've never been a club girl. All the hoe's with nothing on, clomping along in heels ten feet high and guys just coming up to you as if you're the lucky one to be seen with them. It does ones head in.

Those scenes never felt real to me. Just a bad escape. If I want to have fun, being sexually harassed with blisters on my feet and vomit in my hair is not the way to go. (For me at least.) But when it's a girls night with the notion of 'Bro's Before Hoes' then it can be quiet a different experience.

Less than half of the girls in the group were in a relationships and the other half single. One of the girls even met up with a guy who found her on Facebook (I suppose Facebook really is the new myspace?) Of course they went from friendly greeting to massive lip lock in a span of an hour. But what else are Saturday nights for?

True to the club life music is lost in favor of the Beat. Another reason I get bored at clubs is the destruction of songs. This particular DJ was crap. He created more or less the same distortion of beats the whole time we were there. I never once heard a lyric. But regardless we enjoyed ourselves. The crowd picked up as the night wore on. I was sober through out (which could be why I wasn't in the spirit of things. ) An unfortunate side effect of my love of food. So I wandered through the herd in and out. Over to the dance floor and off the dance floor (because how can you dance to the same beat for longer then 10 min?) and when we agreed the scene wasn't going to get any better we headed for the coat check. (Even with the free baked goods, all clean people, I couldn't fall like Alice into the Rabbit hole.)

We headed upstream in the center of the crowd passing a horde of drunk guys and girls. As we almost neared our destination I had a unfortunate encounter with a guy, so drunk he looked at me as if I said something to him. And as I passed he grabbed my neck and tried to plant one on me. Because I was sober I was able to turn my head and had my ear slobbered on instead. I kept moving passed him as quick as I could. He seemed to remain stuck, as if I had simple vanished into thin air. That's when I really missed GT, because if he was there that kid would have been on the floor.

The rest of the week has flown by with class and a different show every night. I have until next week to finish my work load and then it's home sweet home. Tonight I am seeing "I'll be the Devil" by Leo Butler who is talking to us on Saturday along with Diane Samuel's whose "Three Sisters on Hope Street" I saw last week. And on and on it goes. But I've thrown myself in and now I think how fast this term has gone by.

I've been here so long I don't hear funny accents anymore, I know which trains to take and I've come to adore the brick walls and colorful door knockers that line the incomprehensible streets that seem to twist and turn, changing identity's all together when you turn a bend. In NYC you always know where you are and how you got there. But here I seem to find my way mostly by accident and chance.

(Photos by Montana - that's her drag name, well if she was a man dressing like a woman and not really a woman?)

How Many Bites to the Inside of the Apple...?

2008-03-02T20:21:00.007-05:00

This is my homework for this week and next. Then it's time to go to NYC and enjoy life for a bit. Home sweet home. Come here apple and let me have a nice big bite. Reading this many plays can make anyone build up an appetite.

When I get bored or stressed, with no play time for too many days in a row, I cut my hair off. I'm normal I swear! I just have weird ways of letting out creative energy. (On the upside I now have bangs or fringe as they call it here. And I look ten years younger. Downside - I'm already ten years younger than most and I now look like I have a cheap wig on 24/7.)

A Robber, A Black Out & A Day Lost

2008-02-28T11:16:00.007-05:00

This strange body of energy has flown over head and put things out of whack. It began at 2:30 am.

I sleep with my bathroom light on, as some weird habit (or childhood fears) and my computer (which is also my TV) active and running. As I nestled into bed, almost asleep I hear a sudden explosion. The lights go out. So when I was plunged into total darkness you can image my surprise. I bolted up hitting the light switch. Nothing. Then I ran to my drawer and fumbled for my flashlight. Every stage mangers best friend. There she was, with her glow tape around her head ready for action. I put her on and opened the window. All the buildings of the dorm complex where black as night. But the street lights and apartment buildings that stand separated by a wall had energy. So what had happened?

Suddenly, I see the undergrads running around tapping on each others windows. Girls hanging on to boys feigning fear as they scurry across (no doubt to the boys room for 'safety'.) Annoyed at the chaos I lay back in bed. My windows open with my now mute flash light in hand. It was like sleeping outside after the chaos had died down, with the sounds of night creeping into my open window. The fresh air whirling around me. The darkness cradling me fast to sleep. Slowly, I fell back under.

I awoke a while later to all my lights on and windows wide open. So anyone could see into my room. I hopped out of bed, for fear of being watched and closed it all up. Slowly I fell back under. Waking at 12pm from a variety of strange dreams I thought 'Right. Must get out and about if only to a coffee shop to clear my head and get started on my final projects.'

After a bit of wandering I ended up in Starbucks. At first there was nothing to report until a woman, her baby and her mother came and sat at the table next to me. I was annoyed at the thought of being distracted by chatter and baby cries. I thought 'now I'll never be able to concentrate.' As they settled down a black man in drab clothes, caring a black plastic bag and wearing big black boots came up from the bottom stairs (where there is more seating) and stopped right next to the baby's pram. He knelled in a weird way, with his back totally up right, putting his hand into the mothers coat pocket she had hanging on the pram. He carefully pulled out her cell phone.

When I looked up I saw the cell phone in his hand. The mother notices this man is very close and takes her purse away. He mumbles 'Sorry' and pretends to shift his shirt, then bends down to tie his shoe. His eyes on me now. Because I see him and the phone. But I say nothing. Suddenly, both are gone.

I turn to the women and ask them to check for their cells. No where to be found. Of course. I asked her "Was it silver and shaped like this" - I held up mine.

"Yes it was" she said almost in tears. "Should I call the police" she went on to say, realizing the man had taken it.

I said "Yes but it wont do anything."

So she ran to the counter. "A black man stole my phone."

The staff being black as well had a moment of shock. But realising the man that took it they could understand. He wasn't the usual Starbucks clientele. He had given them a strange vibe as well.

They brought her to the back and called the police. I knew the man was stealing her phone but because I have that political correctness branded into me I couldn't open my mouth and say so. I didn't want to think because he's a poor black man standing very very close to a pram for some weird reason that he was a thief. But he was. That's the fact of it. If he was white I would have stood and screamed in his face. Strange isn't it? So since now I have seen this happen, I will not have some weird backwards notion of fear to judge people. If their actions warrant judgement then judge I shall.

The woman was so upset, not at losing a 200 pound phone but because all her baby's photos and videos were on it. Her husband hadn't up loaded them yet. She went on and on about the lost photos. While she held her happy, healthy baby in her arms. Her mother trying to calm her saying "what matters is you keep your baby happy. Lets not think of it anymore. It's only a phone." But she was shaken.

It didn't happen to me but even I feel violated. Violated in mind and pride. I wasn't a hero today and in fact I became a person who watches and doesn't act because of the ideas the world has put in my head. Backwards in a way.

All I wanted was coffee and to get homework done but as a writer we forget that worlds beyond our own exist. When we enter them, sometimes we have to respond not just watch and write it down. Because it's when we interact with the happenings that we learn what to scribble on to the paper. It changes the result. Had I acted, what would I have said? What would have happened? Possibly nothing, possibly something bad or something good? Maybe a chase? But in a way I said something after the fact which let her realize it was gone in time to call the police and get the workers to take the tape from the hidden cams.

But after all the only thing that she lost were some photos. Wasn't she the one who took them? She missed those moments, hoping to indulge in them later. But now it's to late.

The sun is gone again. Now another day has slipped past me and nothing regrading my school work has been done. Distracted by the twists of the day, I spent too much time indulging in what could this mean? When in fact it's only random acts that amount to mere moments I'll forget tomorrow.

A Walk About

2008-02-26T11:52:00.007-05:00

I was out exploring my neighborhood, having realized I've only ever traveled to school and back. I discovered if I go one way, a few streets down, there are large expensive homes with beautiful facades with gardens front and back. In the opposite direction lay ruined buildings, project housing and abandoned pubs with graffiti splashed on it. Which leaves me here, stuck smack in the middle.

Then I think how strange. We stand where time allows us. If we go back in time to my family in Russia, I wonder, were they poor or rich? Did I have family in Germany? Were they poor were they rich? Then when things got bad and they hightailed it to America did they became poor and rebuild?. Generation after generation, gaining and losing a little here and there so I can sit comfortably in the middle?

As I wander, I realize, I'm not foreign to this land. My great grandmother Betty Sunasky lived in England for a good amount of time. She was born in 1899 (was it in England?) She moved to America sometime in 1915-1920. Why? When did she meet Mr. Rosenberg (I don't know my grandfathers fathers name or if he even was around long enough for him to know.) Then I think, there is a history in this country I have landed in for school. Here I am wandering aimlessly when I have distant cousins somewhere, close? But that is the lot of the young, who sit happily in between. Not needing to know or knowing to much too soon, so the mystery has vanished. They tell us when we are young, over and over, so we won't forget. But how can we forget something we don't really know. Not really. We see black and white images and hear what sound like German fairy tales that parents used to tell to their kids; with children being eaten up alive. Cautionary tales, only these are real and the caution is for the future.

It felt strange walking in both neighborhoods. I didn't belong. And every time a taxi passed he slowed as if to say 'let me get you out of here, you look lost'. And I was. Somehow, both times I managed to walk in circles, coming right back to where I started. Not on purpose. I walked blindly without maps but I found my way back to the center. As if, even if I wanted to loose my way, I can't. I can't change where I start and where I end. But I saw a lot of neat things a long the way. Some foreign and somethings familiar, a dried up palm tree in the housing projects stood guarding the door. I thought 'that's home.'

East Vs. West and the Sea Inbetween

2008-02-25T08:07:00.003-05:00

The great thing about studying the arts is your homework is... well... the arts. I've seen show after show in this town, some I love, some I hate, some I'm just glade I had an excuse to get out and about. But tonight, instead of class in a classroom ours will be held in the Royal Haymarket Theater. Before the house opens our class is to have a little Q & A with the assistant director for The Sea by Edward Bond. We all read it and now we get the rare opportunity to see Mr. Bonds work staged in the West End.

See, this is why I came to London to study. Yes, I was already living in NYC so close to Broadway but those shows are way over priced, so is off Broadway and off off (which can be over priced too - it's a really big hit or miss.) In London you come to expect what each theater has to offer you. Don't get me wrong, it's still hit or miss but at least you know there was thought involved, not just a make shift production in the hopes of an agent will come or some good PR will help you in your next cattle call. There theaters actually work with new writers and dare I say pay writers. Their fringe shows are our Off Off (or just one Off) Broadway shows. Their West end is our On Broadway.

I'm not saying their shows are better. I'm saying they have accessibility. That is what NYC lacks. The shows are all over priced, with no hope if your an artist, young person or student. And hardly any theater exists that will read your play, unless you have an agent or already are a name and consider putting it on. Here there is a whole list of theaters that not only welcome scripts by new writers but even provide feedback, for free.

So it will be sad to leave here in June but I cannot wonder around open jawed for much longer. Time to get make to NYC where I can never see shows and only get work if it means I give up all my rights as a human and slave away. If I wasn't so selfish I'd go back home and open a theater company like the ones they have here, that really are about new writers. But I'm studying the arts you see not business. (Which makes me a dreamer and a doer only in the abstract.)

A Lonely Life On a Distant Island

2008-02-24T08:31:00.004-05:00

Why is it when I want to go outside all the sun disappears from the sky? It's an evil trick I say. Well, I've been trapped in my cage for over 24 hours; clouds, rain, fog, snow whatever the case may be I just need to get out so I can breathe.

Surrounding me are mountains and mountains of plays to hunt through, dissect and spit out again. It's too gruesome in here for words. I can smell the anguish of playwrights from 400 b.c. and onward pleading 'do not pick my play for your butchery!' But my friends I must; Helen, Macbeth, Hecuba or even you Mad Moll will see my chopping block. If you are lucky the Gods will turn you into a deer just as I am about to do the deed and sweep you off to a land where you can sacrifice others. But it must be one of you. Time is running out. The winds have not yet picked up speed. My soldiers in keys are getting restless, agitated even. I must pick one of you. So who will it be?

Running on Half

2008-02-21T08:33:00.003-05:00

So much, so much, so much to do. I have piles on my desk and bed of books and plays to read, notebooks and scripts to edit and lists to check off.

With three weeks left before the chains are unshackled, I don’t have the time to be board. Which is nice. Really nice. I had a hard time in the beginning of this term because GT and I had moved in together over the winter break and I had no time to enjoy having a real home, for once. We spent the whole time re-doing the apartment and moving me in; that it felt almost like it never happened. Then having to leave quickly and come back to this tiny, temporary, dorm room, away from him and all my friends, seemed almost unbearable. So dramatic, I know. But it's how I felt. Now after being thrown into the hardest term yet, I find myself almost content. At least knowing it's only for now and not forever, I can just let myself go. Also I have to say my classmates and I have really bonded this time around. That only helps a situation like this. More drinking means less money for food, but less money for food means less binge eating and self-loathing.

I think what really made my term, was yesterday. It all kind of clicked. Everything we have been learning seems to be sinking in. I think. I hope. I've had a renewed excitement about playwriting and my own work. I think, maybe, just maybe, I can do this.

Although it's hard because from my writing, in terms of grammar and spelling my tutor asked me, 'Are you dyslexic?' Crap. I know my spelling has come a long way over the past few years but it's never easy and it never seems to be enough. It’s pretty much the pain of my existence. I feel like a runner without legs. Having to hobble on my hands, hoping it will carry me to the finish line, and perhaps no one will notice. But how can they not? It’s ridiculous to think I can get away with this without someone saying, something isn’t right here. You run fast but the way you do it seems off. I keep hoping one day I’ll wake up and the hardwiring in my brain will be fixed. I’ll go to the computer and not stop myself after every line saying ‘is this right or wrong? I don’t know. I don’t see it.’ So I look up the words. All of them. The same ones I looked up yesterday and the day before that but it doesn’t stick. I never does. I’m beyond frustration at this point. But it hasn’t stopped me. It almost did, way back in the beginning. I used to love writing assignments in high school but my grades came back the same: ‘Great story however you’re not proof reading your work Hollie. A for content. F for technical.’ Well, the truth was, I did proof read it but to me it looked great. One of my teachers said ‘You can be a writer even if you’re a bad speller, that’s why they have editors.’ Although I know no editor would even deal with me, it gave me a bit of hope and so has this course. Today is a good day, who knows what tomorrow will be.

Running out of...

2008-02-18T05:10:00.004-05:00

Four weeks from today I will be on another plane. So far, so good. No weird dreams or panic attacks... yet. Right now I'm thinking I can do this.

This term has me going nonstop. So much work to do, which is great, but so little brainpower left. I mean, I cannot stand having nothing to do while being trapped in this dorm room, but too much and now my head won't shut up.

We have to turn in our idea for our ten-minute play today but I have like 20 ideas. I cannot pick the right one for this moment in time. The reason is whatever we write will be put on stage next term, so I want it to be something that really shows what I can do- i.e.: whatever it is needs to be better then my other stuff - the pressure.

I hope I do not go into shut down and pick something lame like I did last term for my short film script. I think I let myself down with that one. (Mostly time was my enemy on that - not having much of it) This go around I cannot use that excuse on myself.

Every time I begin to type something other worlds from other scripts I've started become clearer or go a shade darker and it throws me off. My biggest problem seems to be A.D.D. So many ideas and so many tiny past script revelations - just not the organization and time to deal with them all.

V is for - Vasectomy...

2008-02-14T01:13:00.011-05:00

It's the day that all petty women love, all men fear and every unattached woman drinks a box of wine alone and cries softly watching some soft porn.

It is the day designed to force false love on to others, in the gaudiest way imaginable. Housewives fight over who received the larges pot of dead plants, even though they sent them to themselves because their husbands can't remember holidays, birthdays let alone made up days. Teenagers in school brag about who sent a secret candy gram to them in class - (see housewives means of receiving gifts).

Why do we do it? Because it makes us feel loved? - No, how could it? Superior? Of course The Stores are happy because they can get us to buy the craziest dolls and other nonsense that normally wouldn't leave the shelf. Just bathe it in red and slap a heart on it; someone will come along and give it a home. Usually it’s the new boyfriend that forgot he has a duty to carry out, not wanting to screw up his promised shag, he will rush to the store, buy the cheapest form of wine and that ugly looking stuffed animal that looks like it's heart has been ripped out (instead of the lovely dovy expression it should hold). Then slip off into the night with a gleam of a job well done - not love - in his eye.

I know I shouldn't be so bitter about this; I’m in a relationship (and even though I'm in another country, right now - if he was here - I'd be the same practical person I am.) I think romance is a nice thought in the back of my mind but put it in front of me and I cannot keep a straight face. Immature? Maybe. Cynical is more like it. People normally would think that a downfall in a person, but to me, cynical people laugh more then romantics (who tend to cry a lot. Like children.) Who wants to spend the short years we have on earth, crying false tears because we think that's what love has to be?

If you really love someone you don't have to buy them buckets of roses for them to know. It should be in the way they won't let you go out of the house in your idea of fashion, in the way they suggest before you try and cook for friends to think of maybe a catered affair instead, in not letting you spend loads of cash on a pair of ripped jeans, in letting you have the last bite of chocolate cake - when it was their birthday, in joining you when you burp saying they can do it better, letting you take the first shower before the hot water runs out and of course slipping in a casual, frank ‘I love you’ and not linger in silence expecting a return reply but quickly moving onto a topic far from that of teddy bears and angels. What could possibly say 'I love You' more then a surprise Vasectomy? The promise of no more 'accidental' children and lots of unprotected sex is way more romantic then a singing card covered in glitter - could ever be.

So dears, I won't say happy V-day. Instead go get sloshed and taunt young lovers in the street with kissy sounds, if only for a laugh. Then return to your love one - or your mirror - or hand - and say, "You’re not looking your best dear, here is a hat for when we go out. There, that is better. Now no one will know. Just you and I. And I will never tell." In that way they know they are really loved.

Happy Vagina day!

It's the Final Count Down... duh nu na nah

2008-02-11T23:12:00.000-05:00

Where to begin?

I’m officially at the half waypoint for this semester; it seems to be flying by. I keep thinking it’s only just begun but five weeks in to a ten-week term? I’d say we are way beyond hello.

I’d love to say this has been a piece a cake but it tastes more like cold veggies. They are good for you but hell I’d rather have a heaping pile of sugar.

I got a really bad grade on my Metamorphosis review (I think? I don’t really understand the Brits marking system. Just like their driving, they always seem to be on the wrong side of things, if you know what I mean.) Any who, apparently I’m not thinking on a MA level, I believe was the term used. This guy is two years older then me and younger then half the class - so I take that into consideration when reading my marks. I mean, he’s dumbing down the in-class tutorial (his words) yet he then expects us to magically know at what level our assignments (all One of them) should be at? I didn’t really let it bother me as my final full-length script is worth 90 percent of my over all grade.

In my other class we write scenes that are more like 10 min plays every week. I’m feeling like maybe I can do this - (not the analytical critic stuff, clearly) - But I’m starting to find my voice as a playwright (I hope). Half the battle is losing the part where I stop myself before I even begin because now I don’t just watch with a camera pointed out my window. I slowly approach the front door of a house, ring the doorbell, wait until the character registers that there is a bag on fire on their stoop. Then I laugh hardily when I see them realize they just stepped in poo. Once the ice is broken, I approach, extend my hand “Hi. I’m Hollie and for my next trick I’m going to write your life.” When I see the horror on their face I say “This is what playwriting it all about. No thanks needed.” Then when the cops come to explain to me that these people inside the house aren't characters in my head - but real people - I just laugh it off. Silly cops - they just don’t get my work. Isn’t that like the man? Always keeping a sister down?

Well, I can laugh about it now that I’m out of my rut. This weekend I stayed in my dorm room allowing the stress to build, with the work load pilling up I couldn’t focus on anything. For the first time I couldn’t write. (Not even a checklist and I love to make lists! I write lists for lists I have to make. It's kind of a sickness. I should really seek help. Hold on, let me add that to my... uh nothing... it's nothing.. stop! Don't take it away.. I've already named it)... [silent sobs.]

(That was embarrassing. Awkward. As I was saying - What? That? You didn't see anything, alright! This knife in my hand? How did that get there? That's right, back away...) Moving forward - My play I’ve been working on for 2 years now has been keeping me awake at night recently. That means it’s getting agitated. Something wasn’t working before. So with all I have learned in these short five weeks, I’ve re-structured it but that means it’s now gone silent. Perhaps a part has gone missing or maybe it needs a sacrifice? (This knife? That's so weird how does it keep getting there?) I’ll find in the remainder of the term an answer (I hope) and continue to work through my checklist of homework but despite the minor set backs I am enjoying this term much better then the last. More plays, more people, more… well everything. Only it’s still not home. It’s like I’m training for something. Something big, a huge match? I’m trapped in an 80’s montage and the upbeat song is getting played out. I’m hoping the next bit comes soon. My hands can’t take any more cold meat. *

*(A reference to Rocky - not some weird sex metaphor - jeez people, get your heads out of the toilet.**)

**(Or was it?)

Momma Ameri and the Big Game of 08'

2008-02-05T20:34:00.001-05:00

I am amused that the BBC News is just as bad as news broadcasts back home in covering an election. They do all the guessing which flips flops through out the count, which makes no sense to me. Why guess? Just wait until the winner is officially announced. But then again I'm not a TV producer; I have too much common sense. More surprising is how much UK cares, I mean they even televised the Super bowl for crying out loud. I cannot escape!

Though I wasn't able to vote, in my home state of Florida - that's right, I'm registered in FL - even though I haven't really lived there in years but my mothers address has always been my legal home because I have moved so many times, it would have been impossible to function had it not been.

The draw back is I have been asked to jury duty (back in South Florida for the second time) and my mother informed them I am currently across the pound but they do not believe her! Because last time they served me I was in NYC. It's not that I wouldn't do jury duty, I totally would, it is just I'm never in the state.

So of course mom says they will arrest me when I go visit her but I doubt that. Come on. Over jury duty? Really? When I'm not even in the country? Seriously, Florida you never cease to amaze me.

Not voting and not attending jury duty - I guess that makes me a typical American. Yet, I feel the guilt! My country maybe young but she’s still old enough to be an immigrant mother, who reminds you of how bad things were in the old country and how I have brought shame on my family. Oh big Momma A, do not hurt me so… I promise I will vote for the big one.

GO BLUE! - That’s what we really need Momma A is some foam hands, a large stadium, the dems in blue the reps in red and they fight it out with an old fashion skin’s football. Winner takes the white house. I mean it’s the American way right? Think of the advertising space? Just a thought.

Booze and Coffee, What More Could A Girl Want?

2008-02-04T09:56:00.000-05:00

This term is going along quiet fast. It's like driving somewhere new, it always feels long the first ride over but then after that it goes by much quicker, whether it's 2 minutes or 27 hours. Believe me, I know, I've moved to so many different time zones back home, I got the feeling I lived more on the road then in some of my apartments. The first term here in London felt like a lifetime compared to all my other wonderings. This semester is much easier. (Not the workload the mental stamina to sustain normal life here.)

After a week running from show, to talk, to class, this weekend I headed down to South London to booze it up with a fellow classmate. We drank our way around her neighborhood, then ate an entire pizza, and smoked some liberty herbs. At the time they all sounded like a good idea, hours later though and I felt my insides wanted to kill me. I imagined them slithering out like a snake and choking me to death. Luckily, they didn’t. So it was still good times.

Then yesterday I remained in a state of constant sleep and actually remained that way through to today. Now of course I'm running late. I have to print all my classmates’ scenes from last week and read through them. And lets not forget the gym, for at least 30 min to run off this weekends madness. So must gulp my coffee down and wish the world a productive and creative day - or what's left of it.

Ah it's nice to feel busy, even if it's a lie.

6 weeks till home...

Dive into the Deep End!

2008-02-01T05:34:00.000-05:00

Well you cannot say I'm not trying.

In last Wednesday’s class we had Joe Penhall come and speak. He wrote Landscape With Weapon and loads of other Plays/TV/Film - he was even the first writer on King of Scotland but had his name removed because it was going into another direction. More importantly the class (the lushes that we are) boozed it up with him at the Old Red Lion (where his first play was put on- it wasn't on purpose just that everything else was closed.) In our drunken stupor I'm quiet sure I let my feelings of being a Hollywood writing whore - in that I'll write what you want me too as long as you pay me - be known and at some point I'm pretty sure he referred to me as a lesbian, was it because I'm a loud American woman? Or because I came straight from the gym to class in sweats and an over sized cap? My lack of makeup and decent clothes doesn’t make me a lezzy - they have better sense then that Joe - it makes me lazy. Ah well, it was good times. Nice to meet writers who are as laid back as he is.

Next day and onto an open talk with Ben Jancovich the senior reader at the National Theater Co. This event was held by Stellar Networks - free. It consisted of me, a rep from Stellar, her boyfriend, Ben, an indi film producer, her American script consultant, a radio writer who went to City Uni 2 years back and did the same program as me and a former teacher playwright. The topics mixed from TV development and other things I didn't care about to the more important Theater development end. I didn't really learn anything new but I did get a clearer picture of the UK Theater/TV World. Also had drinks after - not me, which was a shame because I was so sober I realized what an ass I made of myself speaking about things I had no clue, which was clear to all. Right, well I headed out early to keep some of my dignity intact.

I was so hyper when I returned to the dorms that I stayed awake until 6am today. Now red eyed and droopy at 10:30 am I must get ready because I am seeing a dress rehearsal of Speed The Plow at the Old Vic starring Jeff Goldblum, Kevin Spacey and Laura Michelle Kelly by David Mamet. I'll say this now; I'm not a big Mamet fan, so I hope I like this. (Not saying I don't think he's good at what he does, I just don't like plays that speak at me with 2 actors the whole show. I prefer all my senses engaged. - There I go again making an ass out of myself.)
Ta