new and old

last january, i had a go-to-pieces. i cried for about two months straight and now i have the wherewithal to realize that i was in mourning. i was letting go of my ambition i'd had since i was about fifteen.

i left film. or it left me. i don't know, but it was kind of a bad breakup after a rocky last year. the last few projects i worked on, i felt used and abused with nothing to show for it. actually, the last three projects i worked on (two features and a documentary), are still not finished - and if they were, i probably wouldn't care enough to sit through them.

so my life changed a lot since then.

we bought a farm, which isn't a farm.

we got married.

and i started a real-life job where i leave my hobbit house every morning at the same time and sit in an office. i'm in accounting. at a nonprofit. i have an office, but no window. and i actually really like it. it's nice to have a steady paycheck for the first time in five years. it's nice to be proud of the work this company does (we're building a park system on the outskirts of town) and there hasn't been one moment when i've regretted this change...

until this moment. right now.

the office is quiet because everyone took their vacation time and has stayed home with their families. i don't have vacation time, but i don't have much to do as i sit through the calm before the storm, which is january in the accounting world. and so i've been spending a lot of time on facebook and comparing my life with every other human being who walks the earth. i've compared my life with friends, acquaintances, and total strangers and what i have learned is that i'm a barely functioning adult who sits at a desk and is bored and owns a house she doesn't live in that's full of mold and still can't always figure out what steps to take in life.

and instead of continuing the search for the many people who have more interesting and fulfilling lives than i, i decided to write on this humble blog whilst i fill the time up at my job...my real job.

i think the one thing that remained in all my struggles in working with film, is that i liked what it did for my ego. i liked being a film producer. i liked being the one on a film set who had the answers, who was included in the meetings, who was involved in the major decisions.

and i don't really have that anymore. i'm definitely back on a lower rung of the ladder i had passed a long while ago and i got really used to my hours being packed in with responsibilities and deadlines and fires to put out. i'm making a better income than i made from film, but i'm not allowed to leave when my work is done, i have to sit and wait for the clock to get to some arbitrary time so that i can then leave (see: right now). and now, i bring my lunch to work and i rarely have the opportunity now to eat in a smelly, mildewy tent, next to a space heater laughing with friends and wishing i'd worn long underwear to set that day.

and who knew that stress and pain and crying and chaos was such a great diet.

i thought working in an office with some structure in my life would open it up for other things, but now i don't seem to know how to have lunch with someone since i'm no longer free all the time when i'm not on a project. weekends seem way too precious with the farm and just not going to work. i bring my scripts to the office and attempt to work on them, but overhead lighting and paranoia of blatantly not doing my work isn't exactly the greatest thing to get the creative juices going.

so that's my life as i sit in a small room, and think about my life as the days slowly roll towards a new year.

you shall see...

here are a couple pictures of the farm (that's not a farm) to let you see what it's like. it's about two and a half acres of yard and then two acres of trees, or something like that. i haven't measured it myself.

first, here's the house. it's the ugliest house that ever was. when the old woman moved out of it last year, they found six dead snakes in the basement. snakes are fun. and there's moss growing in the corners and the foundation is all kinds of fut up, which is why the place sat on the market for so long and ended up going to auction.

but here it is...

and it smells. really bad. and the floor is wobbly and there are loads of dead flies in the bedrooms. and the kitchen floor sticks to your feet.

but it's ours.

then there's the land.

it slopes and is always about ten degrees cooler than the city.

i still have to get pictures of the woods and the path.

it's slowly going and going and going. so far, we've purchased a mower (apparently, they are worth more than some human beings) and this week cowboy has been pricing all the materials to fix the garage.

we've pulled probably a ton of scrap metal out of the creek bed (beside the garage) and made a trip to the dump, which, for some reason, i highly enjoy. i think i just like standing on the back of a pickup truck and chucking anything and everything as far as i can.

we're now planning on having a dig party on some saturday in the near future. we're going to dig a trench around the garage to put in a drainage system to keep the place from flooding. and we'll cook meat.

oh, the country life.

---kate and amy, does this suffice?----

oh! and we're getting married in a few weeks....

a house that is not a house

we bought the farm. cowboy and i.

it's only five acres, but it has rolling pastures (kind of) and a walking woods. and it's always cool and relaxing and in a few years, i'll be able to put my feet up on something inside my home and look out at the beautiful land around me and be happy.

at the moment, the house that sits on our lovely farm is old (but not the pretty kind of old) and ugly and has mold and a faulty foundation and smells like stale cigarettes and old kitchens.

my sister and best friend saw the place (at separate times) this weekend. they both live in new york. and they both loved it.

and seeing the farm made them both ask when we were going to have a baby...which is funny.

anyhoo...

so, with my new adulthood in check: land ownership, (almost) full-time permanent work, out of school, and (almost) married, i suppose now we will see what happens next.

collapse

i'm back from kansas.

aunt liz is home.

i've been frazzled and on the verge of tears since i got back home...and a little before. i have realized that i missed deadlines for school, and hilariously enough, i called school to catch up on things and one of the women in the office asked me what i was doing in kansas and - well - i completely broke down in tears, which i'm sure she loved and i kept babbling about how it wasn't sad or anything, but i just couldn't stop crying because of getting sick and being overwhelmed and all the rest of it...

so that was fun and i'm sure the respect for which they have of me is shooting skyward as i write.

and i just emailed a friend with what appeared to be a stream of consciousness that pretty much sums up the last few days: 
"i'm just really stressed. i still have this lecture to plan for school, but i can't actually care about it and whenever i think about running through it i picture everyone staring at me and thinking i'm an idiot or somehow shooting holes in my theory or something. and cowboy's business is crazy blowing up, which is amazing, but he's so stressed about juggling all this work and i can't help because of school work, so it feels like i just sit at home all day. and i got a call from my temp lady and she said that at my last interview they really liked me and i was 'clearly intelligent and could handle the job,' but because of my email address - my gdvd email address - which they asked for my personal email address in the job interview and then googled it and saw the youtube video of the show and said that if i still had that email address, then i was clearly still interested in film. so, i did not get that job."

other than that, i'm doing really well...

break

yesterday, she brought a vodka and diet coke in a tonic bottle and poured it into a glass of ice at lunch. at the end of lunch, she asked if i would spoon out the ice.

i happily did it to take my focus away from having to listen to a writer from florida inform us all that he'd read the first chapter of his novel to his writing group, and at the end of it, one of those listening stated in awe, "now that's literature." this man also appeared to have a small pillow stuffed down his pants.

we didn't go to the reading last night because it was sleeting - yes, sleeting. we got to the hotel for the evening dinner and i parked our little rental car (we now have a little rental car) on the corner and i ran in to see where the handicapped entrance was. apparently, this confused the hell out of all the employees and they directed me (as i soon found out) in the exact opposite direction.

i ran back to the car, in the icy rain, and got out the wheelchair from the back. the wind whipped my hair in my face and i couldn't see enough to get the leg supports attached, and then before i could lock it in place, it blew the wheelchair to the curb.

but i got it locked.

aunt liz got out of the car and we both froze. our hands froze and the wind burned our ears.

we went the direction i was told only to find a dead end alleyway.

luckily, heading back to the main door, a gentleman stopped and helped aunt liz walk up to the main door and another man helped me get the wheelchair in the building.

again, it's may.

we got to the table and i got liz a vodka tonic and things felt better.

the plan was to go from there to a reading, but luckily when we got back in the car, liz said it would be better to just go back to the hotel and i couldn't agree more.

she had a screwdriver and i had a bloody mary.

it's still cold and windy today, about 40 degrees, but at least there's no icy rain.

we have about an hour before aunt liz has another rehearsal and then a brief rest before a three-hour gala performance and dinner. i have no idea if either of us will make it through.

screwed

it is about thiirty nine degrees. aunt liz keeps asking to get screwed, which means she wants a screwdriver.

it's may

they predicted snow tonight.

cold

yesterday, i headed out about town in search of vodka and tonic (along with "that wonderful stuff i like so much...what is it?...yes, listeriiiiiiiine.) my goal was also to find two sunhats for us because it was 80 and bright and unreal how sunny it was.

i found the vodka and the listerine, but no hats or tonic.

then today happened.

it's 43 right now and getting down into the 30s and raining, so i headed out in search of something warm to wear. i walked to the grocery about two blocks away and got loaded up on tonic and bloody mary mix (for me) and lots of soup.

the most interesting thing about this entire place so far is that everyone adores - insanely adores - my aunt liz. everyone working at the hotel, anyone volunteering with the theatre festival...everyone. we go down a hallway and people stop and take her hand and tell her how wonderful she is and how they missed her last year. every man calls her dearest or darling. and everyone compliments her on some film or play they just absolutely love. and i spend a great deal of time standing off to the side while people gush about her.

last night we went to a small production of the play 'bus stop.' it was pretty good and there were some nice performances, but it wasn't life-changing by any means. but after the production, aunt liz and i waited in the lobby for our friend to drive us back to the hotel and she spoke to some of the performers to tell them what she thougth of the show.

and then a beefy woman with long, fried orange hair and a bright green dress and purple shoes approached us. it turned out she was the director of the production. aunt liz told her it was a great show and she should be so proud, and this woman did what every theatre person does - she stepped back, jaw agape, hand to the chest and shook her head slowly, "oh, you have no idea what that means to me." then she shoved her arm in aunt liz's face for her to see her goosebumps.

this morning, over breakfast, aunt liz said how strange and ridiculous it is the way people approach her and she feels like she's part of some 'act' about who she is and "that director - whooh - honey, i tell you...she was anything but cool...come on lady - lighten up..."

it's getting a bit more routine, but still tiring. i got an email yesterday that i am late in turning in an essay for school. it isn't that much of a big deal, but i didn't think this assignment applied to me for some reason, and so i just counsciously overlooked it - but no, i have to do it. so, in my spare time, of which i have none, i'm going to finish reading this book that continues to make me cry hysterically, and then turn in a paper.

i'm glad i came. it's both wonderful to be with her, but shocking at how fragile she's become. even when i've seen her in the past few years, someone else has been there to make sure she has what she needs - and i'm there to visit. but this is different. i know she loves this place and this theatre festival. she loves william inge and anything that gives her a chance to talk and think about her days on the stage.

back and forth

on monday, i had my second interview to be the staff accountant at a technology company. the job sounds interesting and like i could actually get a lot out of it. i like the company and the people who interviewed me. and then i rushed from there to my last night taking pictures of dogs (utterly boring).

yesterday morning, right before my flight, i got an email back from a screenplay competition that my script, if i made some minor changes, would be a finalist. so my heart raced and i sat confused because i finally was ready to have a normal job and income and stop daydreaming about being a writer and all of that and cowboy just kept saying, "i knew it...this is awesome." and we both know that this will lead to my questioning everything i've chosen to do with my career once again.

but then i had to stop thinking about that because i had to catch a flight to spend the week with my wonderful great aunt liz.

firstly, i flew to charlotte and then sat on the tarmac for an hour while they "cleared up the emergency" at newark. when it cleared (whatever it was), we took off and my sister came in from manhattan and we had dinner at the tony romas in the airport. then my aunt liz arrived. we found her a wheelchair to take her around the airport and were dropped again at tony romas.

my sister ordered wine.

my aunt liz asked for soup. they only had baked potato soup, which my sister promised would be really good. aunt liz also ordered a vodka tonic. when the food arrived, my aunt liz said to my sister, "you're right. this is thick." and then for the rest of the day referred to it as "that craaaaazy soup."

we had bloody mary's on the flight and then mr. porter (our porter) picked us up in tulsa and drove us to kansas. he's a retired pharmacist with a personality to match and i had to fight to keep from passing out in the van.

we arrived late. and tired. and "a little high...but in a good way," as my aunt said.

we have separate rooms, but aunt liz asked me to stay with her last night since it was so late and it was a new place, and i agreed without much thought.

while i found an old steven spielberg film on television, she took her time in the ladies room and unpacked and an hour and a half later she finally laid down. she tossed and turned and i don't think either of us got more than four hours of sleep.

we're meeting some friends for a luncheon soon and then my task for the day is to find some vodka, but without asking for vodka "so people don't think ill of us." my aunt said it's better to ask for a place to buy wine and to find "those little things i like so much. laura - what are they?"

"werther's."

"that's right. laura...you know everything."

i just checked on her in her room and she asked me to open a window for her. i did and she said, "laura, is there nothing you can't do?"

worthy

i read the bios of the special guests of the theatre festival i'm going to with my great aunt. they are extremely intimidating and each has their broadway debut listed - either as an actor, writer, director, or designer.

this week could go either way, but as the optimistic narcissist, i predict the following shall occur:

i have a major meltdown that i'm not talented/passionate/dedicated enough as a writer and will never be more than a weekend writer who tries (and fails) to achieve anything with her work.

i cry.

i question everything in my life that has brought me to going back to a normal office job (and failing at that) and wonder if i shouldn't just try more as a writer.

i notice the ugly bedspread of the hotel room and feel it's a perfect description of my life's work.

i attempt to be casual around the special guests, while at the same time desperate for their approval.

i keep up drink for drink with my great aunt and become hysterically drunk and make a fool of myself.

i vomit publicly.

i burn bridges even before they're built.

i get nothing accomplished.

i embarrass my aunt liz and she regrets even making the trip.

inspiration

today, my time is spent uploading the photos i took at the dog/food truck/radio thing. at the event, taking photos and feeling like i knew what do to, i had the image of turning the pictures in and impressing the company so much that they hire me as their fulltime photographer and i find my new life's passion.

then i got home and looked at the photos and . . . i don't have to worry about that happening.

then last night i went out to support a friend of mine doing stand-up comedy and while watching the less humorous performers, i had the thought, "what if that's what i'm supposed to do with my life?" and then, as with roseanne and phyillis diller, i find success quickly because i'm such a natural.

i continued to perfect my stand-up routine to myself as i drink more and more bourbon.

after waking this morning, i do not think that's my life's ambition.

my plan for the day is to upload all these pictures (which is taking forever) and then head to the school library to print out the workbook for workshop. when i travel to kansas, i shall read whilst my great aunt rests/naps/sleeps.

maybe i'll find my life's passion in kansas . . .

it certainly is something...

the dog/picture/radio thing last night went okay. someone asked if i had a website showing my photography and i told them my being there was a complete fluke - it crossed my mind to be professional, but i really stopped caring what people thought of this company when they sent out information about the event with me as their main contact.

when i showed up, i saw a woman i used to work with at the radio stations. she helped set things up and we got a few moments to catch up.

-and then my sister called with a request.

my great aunt, a 92 year-old actress, travels every year to the william inge theatre festival. she worked with him a few times and this is something very special to her. she is old, though, and cannot fully be on her own, and was supposed to be accompanied by her home-health aid.

well, her home-health aid came down with a case of shingles (as often happens) and they thought of me.

- this was the information my sister told me as i stood in a parking lot, staring at food trucks and dogs, and the sounds of the radio cranked up on ginormous speakers and the interstate not fifty feet away.

i love my aunt, but it took me a bit to take it all in and finally decide that i would go.

here's the plan:

next tuesday, i fly up to newark to meet my great aunt liz, who will be driven there by her homosexual confidant bernie - who looks strikingly like george papadapolis - from connecticut. we will then fly together to oklahoma and take a car to somewhere in the wilds of kansas for this theatre festival.

i suspect the following will happen:
lots of drinking.

the last time i went up to connecticut to see her and my aunt mary, aunt liz informed me that she woke up every night at about two or three and in that time she did three things: she ate a few crackers, went to the "john," and drank a vodka tonic.

"do you ever wake up in the middle of the night, laura?"

"no . . . not usually."

"i do. almost every night. i'm not sure why - but something about that vodka tonic helps me go back to sleep . . . do you want one to keep by your bed just in case?"

"no - thank you, but i think i'll be okay."

nope

i had two interviews to work with a private park company here in town . . . and i just got a call that i didn't get the job.

sucks.

but, something usually pops up.

company contact

heading out to take pictures of dogs or dog food or something - i'm still not sure.

but i did get an email from the company that is hosting the event (or not) who put my name on all the paperwork as the "company contact."

annie leibovitz

i got a call from one of my temp agencies for a three day job next week. (this is through an accounting-specific temp agency.) she asked first if i was available on the required dates and, of course, if i liked dogs, which made my brain start to wonder what was going on.

then she told me about the "gig" - to take photos of a local dog food company's "day out" with customers and dog owners sampling their product.

and she ended the conversation with, "so . . . do you have a camera?"

---so many things about this confuse me:

1. what company contacts a temp agency - and an accounting-specific temp agency at that - for their photography needs?

2. did she see film on my resume and assume i know anything at all about photography? because i do not.

3. is this dog food very good?

ADDED: i just got an email from her. she said i could borrow her camera if i needed. so it looks like mama's got a photography gig next week.

what next

here's what i don't understand...what is wrong with me?

true, my career past looks like i'm either insane or on the run from the law, but i'm also well-educated and i think it kind of appears that i work hard. but then, most of my resume, or at least the only consistency in my resume, is my film work which no one knows how to place. i've explained to temp agencies that, in the film world, i usually do the accounting, but somehow that still means nothing to them.

but maybe the truth of it all is that i just suck.

in the past four months, i've sent my resume in, physically mailed in resumes and cover letters, filled out countless online databases with my information, gone to two temp agencies, and repeatedly expanded my chosen field of interest. nothing works. the only positions i've even gotten called in to interview for are commission-based insurance sales, of which i didn't even apply. i don't know if i'm over-qualified or under-qualified, too educated, or educated too much in useless subjects.

the only thing i do know is that it makes me feel like complete ass.

and like i'm an idiot.

but sunday, after watching 'to sir, with love' i decided that my true calling is to be a teacher. in the past two days, i've been lost in thought about myself changing people's lives, out of nowhere i quoted, "i'm in my prime," as close to maggie smith as i could, and i've wondered (sometimes accidentally aloud) which poems i'll use in class to best represent sonnets, haikus, etc.

i went online yesterday to apply and again, the thought crossed my mind that i'm over-educated to do absolutely nothing. it requires certification (fine), but then to get certified, i have to show teaching experience.

i graduate in about a month with a masters degree in creative writing. i have loved every moment of it, although i'm grateful to be on the verge of finishing. when i look back to four years ago when i committed myself to graduate school, i thought for a long time about getting an mba instead. it was actually a really difficult decision. and i remember finally deciding on an mfa because i thought it would make me happier.

...now i'm not so sure.

yes, i'm glad i got the education and i learned more than i thought possible and met some of the most amazing people who walk the planet...but what the hell do i do next?

results

i had my second appointment with the career counselor yesterday. he had the results of my many tests that took into account my capabilities, values, and interests and projected a list of potential careers.

he, being a psychologist, in speaking to me, added a few as well.

here is the list:

public administrator
loan officer
arts/entertainment manager
top executive, business/finance
computer & IS manager
financial manager
urban & regional planner
accountant
attorney
auditor
certified management accountant
certified public accountant
financial advisor
financial analyst
business analyst
organizational psychologist
systems analyst
high school teacher
architect
marketing analyst
professional sales/marketer
paralegal
event coordinator

it's both exciting and kind of strange to see career options that completely differ from what i've been doing with my life.

the next step is to break down these potential careers by the following:

• the basic duties and responsibilities
• the training and education needed
• earnings
• expected job prospects
• advancement opportunities 
• working conditions.

the idea of going back to school for anything at this moment in my life makes me want to vomit and cry, so that could have some influence over my decision.

on another note, i have an interview later this morning with a woman named margarita.

something new

i have no idea what i'm doing with my life.

seriously.

this afternoon, i have my second appointment with a career counselor - a quirky older man who's very kind and has given me tests to take to figure out what i really want to do. because i don't know what i want to do.

i guess, to put it simply, i'm done with film.

i want to keep writing and helping the film community, setting up workshops, and trying to get new productions up and running, but the idea of working seventeen-hour days in the cold and rain with little light or warmth - well, i just don't have it in me anymore.

every film i've worked on the in the past few years has taken months out of my life for extremely little pay (i'm terrified to even think of breaking down what i make on an hourly basis), and that isn't including the emails, phone calls, and errand requests i still receive from producers years (literally) after production ended, but i feel like if i say i can't do one of these things, it will burn some bridge and i'll never work again...

so, maybe i'll try that.

i love film. i love the process and the collaboration and the idea of sitting with a small group of people looking at a script and knowing that after two months time that sweeps by in the blink of an eye, many more people, tremendous amount of chaos, lots of tears and laughs, the film will be shot and completed and on its way to the editor. i love it. i laugh harder on a film set than anywhere else. i cry more. i love the insanity of it all.

but sometimes i don't.

my goal is to actually get a job. like a job where people go to work and have insurance and paid time off and there's never a threat of a boss walking up to you and asking you to keep working, even though he doesn't know if he'll be able to pay you, and office supplies that i don't have to keep in my car, and evenings at home, being able to make my nephew's birthday party, weddings, funerals, holidays, random tuesday dinner with my parents, read novels, and not be crazy or close to tears the majority of the time.

i wonder what will be next for me.

...i just hope it's not data entry.