Here I am at school with a lunch hour to kill and no appetite for the chaos in the student lounge. So, might as well blog.
After all, this IS the Writing Floor.
Not feeling too good at the moment. I’m not sick, but I’m not well.
Morning class was Adaptation. Pretty easy course. Basically, we talked about POV for an hour, had our break, then watched a large chunk of Shawshank Redemption for the rest of the time. Damn, that’s a good movie.
I really should watch the whole thing some day.
There are a lot of moral lessons one make take from that movie. Like “beauty is important to the soul of man”, or “never abandon hope”, or “good things don’t die”.
But my choice would be “if you are an evil and corrupt prison warden, do not fuck over the smartest guy in your prison who also happens to keep the books. ”
It is so satisfying to watch him go to pieces when he realizes Dufrense is gone. I wonder what would have happened if he had not thrown a hissy fit and started throwing Defrense’s rock sculptures around.
That’s the only reason he found the tunnel Defrense dug. Imagine the legend that would have grown had they not discovered that right away. It would be the sort of thing that made lists of great mysteries, even after it was solved.
So arguably, the warden’s hissy fit was a tad contrived. What were the odds he would do exactly that? But it’s acceptable because it’s merely a storytelling device that lets us skip a much longer and duller sequence where they show the guards searching the room, one guard yanking down the poster, that guard going to get the warden, etc.
The only flaw in the justice visited upon that bastard Warden is that, because he kills himself before the cops get to him, he never has to be a prisoner himself.
Perfect justice would have had him put in his own prison where he is treated as roughly and inhumanely as he treated others.
That is, until the other inmates kill him.
So for like…. ten minutes.
Of course, being morning class, I was falling asleep during most of it. Damn that has got to stop. It makes things so much more stressful.
Having the lights turned down while we watched the movie didn’t help.
Oh well. After I graduate, I will be full time job hunting, and therefore working to my own schedule. And that means not getting up before 10 am!
I figure I am going to target all the animation studios in this area first. I have a show to pitch (Sam) plus my spec is for an animated show (Bob’s Burgers), so I am already partway there. And I would love to write for animation.
Next priority would be the video game studios. Writing for them would be pretty cool, but not high on my list of priorities. That would be strictly “pay the bills” type work for me.
Not to disparage anyone in the industry, it’s just not my life dream.
Writing for TV is my life dream.
My afternoon class is TV Pilot 3. I spent last night writing notes on people’s work for it. Once more, I found myself mostly writing about language and logic, which means that when people talk about deeper issues in class today, I will feel stupid.
But there’s just something deep inside me that refuses to take things apart like we are supposed to do it. Don’t get me wrong, I analyze everything, but in my own way that I have developed over a long, long time.
Taking it apart into beats and such feels so….. unnatural.
And the thing is, I know it works. It makes people’s work better. And I really want to help people like that. But I guess I have to do it my own way.
Story of my life. Just once, I would like the off the shelf solution that works for everyone else to work for me, too. Instead, I have to invent solutions or go without.
Being a total original can be such a drag.
Still, I am working on learning to accept it. My latest motto is “Fuck you, I’m awesome” or “Fuck you, that was awesome”. It’s something to say to myself when I try something, like a joke, and it just doesn’t work. A way to counter my automatic assumption that it is my fault because I suck.
Obviously, that will not always be true. Sometimes it will be my fault. But right now I judge myself against a nigh-impossible standard and that shit needs to go home and rest.
No wait… that’s me. I need to go home and rest.
But I have to go to class instead. Durn it.
It’s like I am in an abusive relationship with myself. I constantly punish myself for not meeting an impossible standard and maintain the illusion that freedom from my own wrath is possible if only I do everything right.
But it just ain’t true. I abuse myself because I need to do it. It’s my rage directed inward. I take my pain out on myself, and then I have more pain, which I assume is my fault, and the whole goddamned downward spiral takes another turn.
Almost finished during lunch time, but not quite. Home now.
Where was I? Oh right. Self-abuse.
I will try to dream up a solution to the problem. There has to be some way to end the cycle. Finding a safe way to externalize my anger sure as hell could help. Take it out on something other than myself.
This impossible to please raging superego of mine is beginning to sound more and more like my father, good ol Larry Bertrand.
I guess being able to see through his bullshit and peg him right between the eyes with what a nasty piece of work he is does not automatically erase the damage done by being around him for my entire childhood. Nor does it strike my internalized version of him from my mind and leave me in peace.
Guess I will have to deal with him after all.
I will talk to you nice people again tomorrow.