The Vomit Draft

That's what my latest screenwriting professor calls the first draft of any screenplay: the vomit draft. He says it's the draft where we just have to get it onto the page, and we can't take the time to make it look pretty, that's what the second through forty-seventh drafts are for. This draft, this first semblance of a story, is just the slightest hint of the skeleton that will become our script. The good news? Mine is done.

Yep. Done. At 4:30pm today. About eight weeks after I started writing it. Eight long weeks of vomiting. Eight long weeks of writing pages, reading pages, rewriting pages, throwing pages in the recycle bin, starting new versions, changing opening scenes, writing jokes that weren't funny, writing jokes that were funny, writing jokes that crossed the line, writing jokes that even I didn't get. Eight long weeks of sitting in the chair, staring at the wall, looking at the notes on my board above my computer:

• Think about dilemma, subtext, context, progressive complications, and stakes.
  
• What is the moment about? the scene about? the sequence about? the act about? the movie about?
• "Each minute of procrastination robs you of a minute of accomplishment." (Damn you Jewel Quest!)
• Have an attitude of expectancy.
  
• What is the simple, emotional journey?
• Comedy constants: be specific, remember the rule of threes, etc.
• Summer 2011
• Screenplay by Sarah Knapp
• Directed by Sarah Knapp

And now I get to start on the list sitting next to my mousepad. The items I need to address/to fix/to change/to improve that I was not allowed to go back to until I finished the draft. The stuff I am dying to work on. The character I need to develop. The jokes I wrote "FUNNIER" next to. The hilarious scene that played so well in my mind and so badly on the page.

One hundred and five pages. And then I got to write those three little words that are glorious to any screenwriter: Fade to black. I wasn't sure it was gonna get done there for a while last week, when I was on page forty-seven. When I had no idea what the climax was going to be or how to get the main character to end up with the right girl. When I thought, and had written, the entire second act and part of the third in Hawaii and then decided to move it to Los Angeles and Vegas. But it happened. It got done. Deadlines are great motivators.

I'll let it sit tonight and part of tomorrow. I'll read a friend's screenplay, do some laundry, grade some papers. And then I'll dig back in. I'll see if the jokes are any good. I'll read the dialogue aloud and figure out if that's how these characters really talk to their best friends. I'll color in some of the blank spots and throw a few wrenches in for good measure. And next Tuesday, come hell or high water, I'll have a second draft. Because that's what us NBA players do. We bring it.

Our bodies

This is a picture of my friend Pauley. On Sunday, during the BBQ at my house we were discussing aches and pains. Something happened a week ago today and my neck started to hurt. Wait, hurt isn't the right word. I experienced pain. And not just any pain. Pain that shot through my shoulders up my neck to my jaw and straight through the top of my head. When I bent over I thought I might pass out. I was sure I had some terrible disease or aneurysm or something though I wouldn't admit this to anyone. Come to find out, I have tension in my neck. Well, at least that's what the masseuse told me.

But back to this crazy picture. Pauley has neck and shoulder pain too and she was very concerned about me. One of our friends is a masseuse (which I didn't know until she told me to sit down and started rubbing my neck) and she told me I likely pulled something and am exhibiting symptoms of TMJ. I don't have TMJ, most likely just the symptoms. I am grateful for that diagnosis seeing how 1) it calms my fears about the aneurysm and 2) it was free (if ever there was a time I wished I lived in Canada...). Pauley explained to me that she's had her neck issues for years now and gets acupuncture, etc. to help. I was intrigued because acupuncture's helping Angela but it's still too pricey for me.

But Pauley's pain got worse over the weekend and she went to the doctor and the above picture is a result of what they did to her. It's called cupping. I was terrified when I saw the photo, it looks painful (she says it is) and I wondered how it could help (it supposed to, we'll see). But the more I think about all this physical pain, the more I think about our bodies. Mine in particular but in general, how we treat our bodies, and how they are so mistreated on a regular basis.

I went back for another massage today and asked that the massuese focus on my neck. She did but then she worked on every other part of my body as well and after a few minutes I was grateful for this. I spend hours in front of the computer and that doesn't just affect my neck. It affects my hands and my legs and my back and my eyes and it's amazing I'm still functioning. It's amazing any of us are. To think about God creating these physical beings we live in. Deciding what functions as what, what we look like, what needs to perform and how. It boggles my mind.

I was talking about weight loss with some friends the other day and the issue of self-esteem was raised. I was thinking about how I have conciously been trying to be more positive about my own body image. I've been walking regularly for months now (even through the neck pain) and I've yet to lose a single pound but people keep telling me I look good, better, thinner, healthier. I'm not so sure but I've really been focused on accepting the compliments, saying thank you, and trying not to downplay my efforts. I realize that this is the body God provided me with, for better or worse, for my entire life on this earth and it's all I've got.

Today I saw one of those TV commercials for body sculpting. They offered payment plans with zero interest. I immediately thought, ooh - just my upper arms. If I got those done I'd be content. I flashed back to this morning when I tried on three different outfits before heading off to my internship. They all revolved around not letting my arms show too much. And then I thought about how much I enjoyed getting my massage today. How much I enjoyed walking in the sun today, along the street, looking up at the blue sky. How much I enjoyed writing with my fingers on the keyboard and singing along to the John Mayer CD I've just discovered and fallen in love with.

I often take my body for granted. Sometimes it reminds me that I have to be more careful, more cautious, more loving of it. Those are the times when I put on extra sunscreen or get a massage or take an Advil or put the fancy eye cream all around my eyes. I really do want to be more intention in preserving what God's given me. I want to use it and work it and have it work for me.

On Monday as I watched all those runners in the marathon I teared up on more than one occassion. To see what they were putting their bodies through, to see what they did for their bodies, was pretty awe-inspiring. I will never be a runner, I don't have the knees for it, but I did find myself sprinting a few times on my walk home that morning. I found myself taking an extra moment to brush my teeth better, to rub lotion into my neck and arms, to stretch every 30 minutes as I worked at my computer.

Our bodies. It's crazy what we do to them. It's crazy what they do to us. They're beautiful creations, gifts, from God. Most of all they're the only ones we get. I need to remember that more often.

This Old House

This is a picture of one of two outlets in our kitchen on Abbey Place. It's true. Two outlets in one modern kitchen. Some of you may say, what? That's plenty. But you're wrong. Very wrong.
This is a picture of the second outlet in our kitchen. This means we have a total of four plugs. One is constantly taken up by the refrigerator (I suggested unplugging it for a few minutes today, that suggestion was not taken under consideration). So in reality we have three plugs. And the ones in the first picture are in a completely useless place. (We plug in the radio, sometimes the Hot Shot water heater, that's all.)
Here is Angela beating the egg whites IN THE DINING ROOM. Yep, where there's carpet and a plug that's not even near the table (thus, the chair/counter space). She couldn't use the second plug in the kitchen because the waffle maker's plugged into it, heating.
And just so you know, she only got a little off the foamy stuff out of the bowl. Overall, she did a good job, even using her body, wrapping it around the bowl at one point, as a human shield against egg whites. She deserves a Michelin star just for that.

So yes, we live in an old house. There's a cabinet door in the kitchen that has never closed. In fact, it is always completely open unless I shut it very carefully, tiptoe away, and then it stays semi-closed for a good five seconds. Maybe ten if it's not humid.

But I love this house. And we're getting it all spruced up. This week we got a new roof on the garage and part of the house so we've managed to get everything back outside into storage. That means we won't be able to go golfing or sleep on our air mattress at a moment's notice because those things have been stored in the trunk of Ang's car but we're happy to have a non-leaky roof. (I really want it to rain so we can see if it's waterproof. Come on Southern California, just a shower or two?!?!?!)

Also, the exterminator came this week, twice, and is helping us with our ant problem (only 7 ants in the last few hours, such an improvement over the last week!) which is very exciting. And the plumber comes tomorrow to fix the broken toilet. Oh how I love this Money Pit, I mean our wonderful old house. Really. I love it. And I'm going to love the homemade waffles Ang is making in the dining room!

P.S. -- Here are the waffles. So good! And I found a little bit of Cool Whip left in the fridge (which never happens) so they look like they came from IHOP!!!

She's mine

A lot of times parents make the mistake of trying to be a child's friend and not their parent. This doesn't work. I've seen it with my friends, my family members, my students, it simply doesn't work. Children needs rules, they need to be taught, they need to be shown the way. Children need parents. And I am so blessed because my mom has always been a parent first, and then a friend. What I love most of all is she is both.

My mom taught me a lot of what has made me successful. She taught me to be respectful, to keep my mouth closed at certain moments, to look in the mirror before leaving the house, how to stretch a dollar, and how to feed myself and others. She taught me that a lot of times life isn't fair but it can still be okay. She taught me to love God and love my neighbor, even if the smile I had to plaster on would be fake. She taught me to go out and try everything. She taught me to live my life, regardless of what anyone else thinks.

I would not be who I am or where I am if it weren't for her. She has encouraged me every single step of the way. And she hasn't always been ecstatic about it, I know. She'd like to not have to borrow the neighbor's kids when she wants to spend time with her grandchildren, she'd like to see us more often, she'd like for us to be more financially stable -- and those are not unreasonable thoughts. I'd like them too. Regardless, she's been my cheerleader, 150%, the entire way. She's the one who sends me cards telling me to believe in everything. She's the one who writes 'the worst words you ever write are better than the best words you never write' on a scrap of paper so that I will keep going. She's the one who answers the phone at 1:30am when I call to tell her I had a great table read. (Note: she was on vacation and told me it was okay to call, I normally do not call at this time because she taught me that's not polite!)

Last month my mom got to retire. She's already traveled for weeks down south, visiting friends, walking through lighthouses, having lunch on the Daytona pier. And I'm so excited for her and this new chapter in her story. I'm so excited that after half her lifetime, slaving away in a not so great job that she always wore a smile to, she gets to do what she wants to do. She gets to go where she wants to go. She deserves it. And so much more.

I'm not at home today -- I wish I was. There's a family lunch at grandma's and then the stop at the other grandma's. There was church and I know she got a card from us. But we'll celebrate her when she gets to California in less than a month. We'll do Mother's Day 2009 up big time.

But most of all, I want her to know today that I am grateful, beyond words, that I had a mother. I had someone who taught me what I needed to know, who took care of me, who loved me so fiercely that she always did and always has put my needs first. She is amazing. And I'm lucky she's mine.

My new card

I have lived in Los Angeles since August. I have lived approximately three blocks from a public library for over nine months. I didn't have a library card -- until today!

I'm pretty excited. I walk by the library on Olympic and Muirfield almost every single day. And when I don't walk by it, I drive by it. It's this beautiful old brick building with moss growing on the sides and a playground/park out front. I like watching the little kids play on the swings when I walk by. But until today I'd never ventured in.

I did a mid-day run to Angela's school a few minutes ago, her migraine's back full force and she is having a crappy day. Kids out of uniform, parents showing up unannounced to complain that - gasp! - their kids have homework, etc. And she told me when I went out to prune the money tree in the backyard, if I found a frozen yogurt pond to bring her some. So I did the next best thing, I kidnapped her and took her to Yogurtland just down the block from her school. We ate some yogurt (mine had blueberries and raspberries! Yum!) and then she got a dish for the school secretary and we went back - 20 minutes door to door. So on the way home I drove past the library again and thought, "STOP!" You have nothing pressing that needs to be done right this minute. You have been trying to figure out how to get more audiobooks without paying the ridiculous itunes fees, go to the library! So I did...

I went in and was immediately greeted by a friendly staff member who took my drivers' licence, asked for a signature and gave me a card. Easy as that! And then I got to do my favorite thing - browse.

I grew up going to the library, sometimes several times a week. We'd go for story hour, we'd go for books, we'd go to watch the Saturday afternoon movie. When I got a little older Angela and I went by ourselves. I think I read every single book in the Young Adult section several times over. We did the summer reading programs, we went for homework, we rented movies there. I loved the library.

And then I moved to Kalamazoo. They have an awesome library there - it was recently rebuilt and had won awards. I loved that library and I knew it well. I went every week for research when I worked for the Kalamazoo Gazette. I checked out audiobooks by the suitcase when I was commuting from Jackson to Kalamazoo. And they had the coolest children's room - complete with a castle on the wall.

Needless to say I'm excited about my new library card. I'm excited about the three audiobooks I checked out today and the novel I've been wanting to read for a year. I almost bought it last week at the bookstore but knew I couldn't afford it so didn't. And it was one of the first books I saw today! And I'm excited because there were people in there, reading, researching, enjoying books. And to me, as a reader and as a writer, that's a pretty cool thing to see.

Priceless

You know how sometimes life just hands you gold? And by gold I mean comedy gold of course. (We learned about this in Monday night's lecture and I've been mining for it ever since.) How you can be engaged in a conversation or something can be happening around you and you just think to yourself - I've got a story here.

That happened to my yesterday. And I was so excited.

Yep. Comedy gold folks. That's what this is.

Now that I've set the bar way too high....here's my story.

Tuesday I went to Homeless Lunch as I do most Tuesdays. I went and I carried boxes, I unpacked clothes, I spread out books, I bagged saltines, I put everything out just so on the tables and carts. And then we opened the gates.

Now let me just explain for a minute, what it's like on a hot Tuesday at 11:01am in Hollywood, California when you're handing out free food and water. It's crazy. There are people who've been in line for several hours, scoping out the tennis shoes and flannel shirts and they get mad when people cut in front of them. Or they want to sneak out of the food line where I have to make them sign in and where I regulate the flow of people into our small area and grab that orange t-shirt they've been eyeing. Or they want a lunch for their friend who's in the park (a big no-no). Well this week I wasn't having any of it and I started laying down the law. A sample of my shouts:

"TWO ITEMS ONLY!"

"Um, do you want a lunch?"

"Excuse me!"

And so it goes. But I have been a teacher for nine years and so I also know how to be bi-polar when the moment requires it. I can scream and rant and vent and then I can turn around, put on my biggest, brightest smile and ask you about your day or your new haircut. And that's what I was doing Tuesday. Being my best selves. Tough and mean, sweet and helpful. All rolled into one.

Now onto the good stuff!

So my friend Jim and I were busy for the first 45 minutes or so handing out food when this couple comes up the line. They're a husband and wife, probably younger than me but look 10 years older, and they're regulars. I know they live on the street (some of our folks don't) and a few weeks ago they brought by their pet rat to show off. It was in a Build-A-Bear box. I kid you not.

So they come up the line and they both are just smiling and holding hands and looking so happy. I smiled back and got their lunches and the woman tells me about how she's going to start school that afternoon at a local community college. I told her how great that was (she'd seen my UCLA t-shirt and was excited we'd both be in school) and asked her if she wanted tuna or salmon for lunch. Her husband told her to get chicken and as he did so I couldn't help but notice he looked like the cat that got the canary. He was grinning from ear to ear and prodded her to tell me why she couldn't eat fish. By this point I was in on the secret. She was pregnant.

So she stands there and starts emptying her pockets, she says she has to "show" me her surprise. That they just found out a few hours ago. And can I just say, it was really sweet. I know they're homeless, and she's missing her two front teeth and they have a pet rat and no clothes, but they were just so excited. As she's emptying her pockets I look at what comes out: a pack of cigarettes, a lighter, a pouch of chewing tobacco. And then I stopped looking quickly.

And finally she finds it. The pregnancy test. She holds it out to me and I look, yep, there's the plus sign. And she's so excited. I smile and tell her congratulations and reinforce how great it is she's going to school and making things better for their family. And then Jim steps up to the conversation. She wants to show him too, as he hasn't been listening, and she does. And he's confused. He doesn't know what it is. And this part happened all so fast all I could do was stand there and grin along with them. Because I knew exactly what was happening.

Jim looks at her hands and thinks she's found something in her lunch bag: a needle, something that shouldn't be there maybe. So he takes the stick from her and puts it up close to his face to examine it. And I just laughed. And so did the couple. And finally I say, she's pregnant, it's a pregnancy test.

"Oh," is his response and he drops it quickly back into her hands. And they go on their way.

Jim and I both go to wash our hands and I can't help but bust a gut. It's funny. It's funny in that way that you know it'll get funnier the more you tell it. And I try to explain this to him. And he's still a little confused. He explains to me that as a man, and a gay man at that, he's never seen a pregnancy test before. Which made me laugh even harder. And again when I started telling the story - comedy gold I tell you, comedy gold.

Also, he wanted to know where that stick had been. When I explained that she'd peed on it he washed again and then announced he was going home to shower. Priceless.

So that's the story. That's the little nugget that will get tucked away in my brain and saved for a script some day. And that's what I love about life. Sometimes you get a gold in the form of a pee stick.