Come On Down!

Ok, I'm a horrible blogger. Let's just face that music in F minor (to reflect my grade for keeping this thing up!) and go on to the guitar solo.

There's a ton that's been going on. Working on the short film that I'm producing has been up and down. We film next weekend! PANIC! God, however, answered a prayer by connecting me with a little person via the Little People Association of America, the L.A. branch, that is willing to be our lead! From there, everything else fell into place, and we officially have all of our actors lined up and ready to go. We even got to hire our favorite African American actors, and with that, are now setting our story a bit later than the 1940s.

Like a friend of mine stated, though, being a producer for these films is a lot like playing whack-a-mole. Every time you think something is done, another mole pops up that you have to hit with your rapidly dwindling hammer. Our mole happens to be getting our film permit. As things go, we have a special concern neighborhood, with extra rules up the whazoo.

For future note, the people at Film L.A. are some of the unhappiest people I've ever met. Avoid at all costs - they do not have a sense of humor! I can't imagine ever being that unhappy working anywhere. I also can't imagine doling out permits for a living.

Screenwriting is going well, and I am on my way through act two and page 25 of my screenplay, tentatively titled "Bottle Cap Boys" right now. Lame title? Yes. But I'm supposed to be practicing my log line, tag line, and title on people, and who better than a bunch of possibly random people reading this? So here they are!

Title: Bottle Cap Boys
Tag Line: Forgiveness can be the hardest thing when it comes to forgiving yourself.
Log Line: German WWII veteran Conrad lives in a nightmare that is his war guilt. Unable to forgive himself for his actions, Conrad begins to live more in the war than in reality, pushing his family and wife away in the process. Upon meeting Benny, a storytelling heart transplant hopeful, however, Conrad finally has a chance to let go of the past if he can open his heart to accept Benny's tales...

There it is! I'm liking it so far, and though I miss writing comedy, drama has its moments of joy as well.

I finally finished my Halloween costume. For those who don't know, I'm going as a Youtube video. It's hard to explain the costume, however, so you'll have to wait until Halloween to see a picture! Just a few more adjustments and the costume will be complete. Can't wait for Halloween! Not sure what I'm doing, but it'll be fun.

Our love sack, lovingly rolled three blocks to our apartment, now has a friend that my roommate picked up in the lobby. It looks a lot like a silver blob or tumor, and at this rate everyone will have a bean bag to sit on. But it does look quite at home, I'll admit.

This weekend we went to volunteer at the Dream Center. For a place named like that, you would think volunteering would be fun, right? Most of us walked away wishing we had our morning back. The Dream Center means well, but it was so disorganized that one team didn't do anything - there were too many volunteers! The other team, mine, passed out food and fliers to try to get people to go to church. I'm not a fan of ministry of that sort, as I know it's not my field, and frankly, I believe more in living as an example than in bribing people to church with half-moldy vegetables and potato chips.

On a brighter note, last week I went to my first TV screening: The Price is Right - a classic. Drew Carey was quite funny and interacted with the audience a lot more than I thought he would. Some poor crew member got beaned with a backdrop back stage, but beyond that, no one from my group got picked, including our birthday boy with us. Oh well. I plan on going again, though, and we'll see what happens!

That's about it on the excitement. Things will get more interesting when I have more time after HPW to go out. For now, here's my metaphor I had to write for Theology in Hollywood that talks about what I compare myself to. Enjoy!


"So I thought a lot about this metaphor thing. I wanted to be a light
saber, but considering I don’t make cool noises and I’m not very
deadly, I had to discard it. I also really wanted to be something
awesome, like a garden gnome, but considering I’m neither short nor
bearded, that didn’t work either. So I went with something more
practical and settled for a telephone booth.

That’s right, a telephone booth.

I am like a telephone booth because different things come out of me.
I’m a multi-faceted person, and I show it. Sometimes, I have
Superman inside. I do good deeds because I sincerely want to and my reward is
others being happy, and I’m ok with that. Other times, I have the
creeper from 6th street who is looking for change in the coin slot.
My thoughts are scary; I’m selfish, nasty, and can’t think of a
positive aspect to the world as I wander out muttering about
government conspiracies. All this while, people get just a glimpse
of what I have inside because they can see through the windows and
breathe on the glass.

Which leads me to my next point of: I wear my emotions on my sleeve.
Telephone booths, though meant for privacy, really don’t give you as
much privacy as you want. You can get a glimpse of what is going on
through the glass windows, and by how much the man/woman is screaming
into the phone, you can get a gist of the conversation going on
inside. You won’t be able to hear exactly what is going on without
opening the door and asking, but just by using those investigative
spy skills you practiced as a kid when spying on your siblings, you can
get an idea of what I’m feeling that day.

But when it comes down to the line, no matter what kind of person or
conversation going on inside a telephone booth, those pay phones
wouldn’t exist without people. Germs and all, phone booths need
people, and so do I. Life is meaningless without interactions with
others. While I like to have a set group of people who stay in my
life, even if I only have one Dr. Who (yes, it’s a police box, but
it’s close enough) or Superman who comes back to me constantly, I
need people to keep going. I may not initiate the talking, and I may be a
bit quiet, but once you break the shell and start up a conversation
with me, if I’m there and not hovering in dreamland, I’ll talk back.

I am also a phone booth because I am a rooted thing. Let’s be honest,
the only phone booth that hovers is the Tardis, and since we’re a few
decades away from having anything hover, most phone booths are located
on the ground so as to be connected to the electricity that it needs.
I, too, am a bit of a rooted person. Though I like to travel, I like
to have a community everywhere I go. I can’t run on nothing! I need
the power that is my God, friends, and family in order to stay
operating.

Finally, I am like a phone booth because I am mostly an introvert by
nature. It’s always hard being an introvert, because you want to be
able to have the ability to just walk up to people and start a
conversation. Us phone booths, however, are so grounded in what we
know that we are afraid to leave our electrical lines for a few
minutes. Once you step into the phone booth, however, you find
someone to talk to, and often you get your ear talked off!

So there you are: I am a phone booth. Next time you see one, think
of me, or at least Dr. Who, because that’s a quality show right there."