Well, it's been a while, dear blog o' mine, but I'm back.
The world has been a rather busy though moderately forgiving place of late, and I still have a mountain of work ahead of me in the coming few weeks; tomorrow (technically today, i suppose) will be the beginning of the last push to climb this monster. Fortunately, the past few days have been mostly relaxing thanks to the just-in-the-nick-of-time arrival of Thanksgiving break.
I'm not sure if it was the workload or something else, but by the time this past weekend had rolled around your humble blogger had entered a rather nasty patch of the ol' melancholy. Even going out did not reverse these effects--quite the reverse, in fact. It was not the jolliest of birthday weekends, and the prospect of spending eight working hours with the most anal-retentive person I have ever met on my actual birthday was not exactly the type of thing to bring me out of this little slump. But by the end of the 19th of November, I'd eaten a good meal and managed to regain some perspective on life.
In the interval of time between then and now, I've discovered two new joys:
The Long Goodbye by Raymond Chandler -- I'd heard plenty about Chandler and, with some excess time and money to kill, I decided it was about time to find out about the master of "hard-boiled" detective fiction myself. I'm only about half-way through, but I think I may be hooked. I've already been somewhat inspired; I've had a film noir idea kicking around my head for a while now, and reading this has convinced me that it's time to move forward. Next semester, "Alternative Narrative," it's going to be a noir.
Mass Effect -- Last year, when I made the decision to go with the Xbox 360, this game was a major deciding factor. The preview videos showcased the spectacular graphics, and Bioware has one hell of a reputation for making great RPGs. Some less than enthusiastic stories about the world that was created, and my growing anathema for shooter mechanics, had me just about ready to write this one off no more than a couple weeks ago...then I saw the new trailers. And then I saw the reviews. And then I said to hell with it and bought the damn game. It may not have the most original universe--pretty much every semi-successful sci-fi brand of the past thirty years is reflected in some aspect of the game's design--but I'll be damned if it isn't engrossing. Hell, even the shooting is fun again because there's an actual story and strategy that goes into it. If you have a 360 or just know someone with a 360 that you can play on...go buy this game. Now. You won't regret it. That is, unless you don't like games with stories. Or games in general. Or grandma.
Anyway, that's a decent summation of the past few days. Down then up with much relaxation. But all good things must come to an end, and tomorrow I've really got to start writing my struggling little heart out. Ironic that during Thanksgiving break, the day I finally buckle down to begin my work is none other than Thanksgiving itself. Of course, as long as I eat hearty then the holiday is still fulfilled, is it not?
Thanking my lucky stars. You probably know who you are.
Happy Thanksgiving, everybody.
Thursday, November 22, 2007
Sunday, October 7, 2007
Long time no see...
Hello, blog. It's been roughly four months since I've last updated you, probably since I've last even glanced upon your glowing lines of code.
I will frequent you more often, I promise. Especially now that something is rotten in the state of Denmark, though I honestly can't remember a time when everything went smoothly so...yeah. Anyway, life has its problems.
All for now. A meaningful entry, I know.
I will frequent you more often, I promise. Especially now that something is rotten in the state of Denmark, though I honestly can't remember a time when everything went smoothly so...yeah. Anyway, life has its problems.
All for now. A meaningful entry, I know.
Wednesday, June 6, 2007
The Runaround
Oh, the frustration. My status on Facebook was a bit of an explosion, but allow me to explain the wonderful customer service experience I've been dealing with for the past three weeks.
I lost my cell phone at the airport on May 15, probably either in the rental car my roommate's father had driven us all to the airport in at 4 am or the tram that dropped me off at the terminal. I was distracted at the moment by the extreme hour, which was exaggerated by the fact that the assholes next door had been partying all night long and were still going after we had left; virtually no sleep, you see. Also, the handle on one of my suitcases wouldn't go down, and I kept trying to fix it so that they would accept it on the plane or the handle wouldn't get snapped off. It wasn't until the suitcase was fixed and I was in line to check my baggage when I noticed that my Chocolate phone was no longer safely in my left side pocket.
Fuck.
Only a few minutes later, however, and I was at peace. After all, had I not gotten insurance when I replaced my waterlogged RAZR over spring break? I just needed to go home, suspend the phone, file the claim, and by next week I'd be holding a new and improved Chocolate in my patient hands.
How wrong I was.
I suspended the phone that night when I arrived home, but it was about a week before I got around to filing the police report as I was eager to see my friends back home and just settle down. Also, I was desperate to find a paying job, and so that seemed to get the majority of my free time. A few days passed before I researched who I needed to call and what information I needed to get. A police report from the location of loss: at first I assumed it was LAPD, but LAX has its own police force. Check.
I called the LAX police but had trouble getting ahold of the front desk, as apparently only one officer is on duty there at a time and the line was busy. A day later, I finally got through, only to be told that before they could take a report on my phone, I would have to show up in person with a copy of my signed cellular contract. I attempted to explain that I was in Ohio for the summer and would be unable to appear in person. Still, the officer persisted, asking how far I was from the airport. After about four iterations of "I'm in O-H-I-O" the officer seemed to grasp that I was the better part of 3000 miles away and said I could fax my contract. I then said my contract was in storage in LA. He said I could have Verizon mail me a new copy and it could be faxed to their office and then, and only then, would they take the report. I asked if there was a time limit to filing the report. "Don't worry," the officer replied. "You'll be fine."
Figuring I had plenty of time to file the claim within 60 days of the loss, it was about another week before I finally got around to requesting that contract from Verizon; admittedly, my mistake. When I got ahold of Verizon, they acted completely shocked that I should ask for such a thing. "I've never heard of that before," said the servicewoman. "Usually you just give them the make and model and you're good." But after a few minutes, she promised to send me a copy of my contract, saying that it would be here in a week at the latest. She provided me with the phone's electronic serial number and bade me good day.
That week ended yesterday. No contract. No contract today, either. I called Verizon to inquire what had happened. Their response? That no contract had been mailed because it was an "electronic contract" and, therefore, there was nothing to mail; I had waited a week for absolutely nothing, and not only that, but they could not send me the contract. However, they assured me that I could still file my claim using an officer's name, badge number, and the precinct phone number, and it should still be processed.
I call the LAX police back, and they will NOT divulge that information without first filing a police report. I explain that it is impossible for me to provide them with a contract, telling them that Verizon had told me there was nothing to send because the contract was electronic. The police officer then said, "Contract? What we need is a copy of the original receipt." They said that it's common for Verizon and Cingular to fax them a copy directly; "Usually they're so good about it."
AAAAAGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHH!!!
I call Verizon, and the serviceman again asked surprised at my request. "I've never heard of the police requiring a receipt to file a police report before." After about twenty minutes of being put on and off hold, the man tells me that a copy of the receipt will be in the mail and in my hand in 1-3 business days. He will not fax it to the police. I call the police back to make sure that if I supply them with the receipt they will file the report; they claim that they will. I ask if there is a time limit to file the report, and they say 30 days. I confirm that if I file before June 15 they will file the report, they say yes. I ask what happens if I can't file before then, and the officer says they will make an exception in my case, because I've been trying. I ask if I should provide any information so that there's a record of my trying; she claims that the call is recorded and record enough.
Ugh.
Both parties claim that the other is asking for something exceptional. Time is running out, admittedly through some fault of my own, but I also was delayed a week by someone's incompetance. They have my home phone number, my email address; couldn't Verizon have SOMEHOW notified me that they couldn't mail the damn contract before the entire week had passed?
Someone is being exceptionally uncooperative, giving me the runaround. I'm inclined to believe that it's happening a bit on both sides of the equation, and I'm caught in the middle. Three weeks without a cell phone.
And I haven't even begun to deal with the insurance company yet.
I lost my cell phone at the airport on May 15, probably either in the rental car my roommate's father had driven us all to the airport in at 4 am or the tram that dropped me off at the terminal. I was distracted at the moment by the extreme hour, which was exaggerated by the fact that the assholes next door had been partying all night long and were still going after we had left; virtually no sleep, you see. Also, the handle on one of my suitcases wouldn't go down, and I kept trying to fix it so that they would accept it on the plane or the handle wouldn't get snapped off. It wasn't until the suitcase was fixed and I was in line to check my baggage when I noticed that my Chocolate phone was no longer safely in my left side pocket.
Fuck.
Only a few minutes later, however, and I was at peace. After all, had I not gotten insurance when I replaced my waterlogged RAZR over spring break? I just needed to go home, suspend the phone, file the claim, and by next week I'd be holding a new and improved Chocolate in my patient hands.
How wrong I was.
I suspended the phone that night when I arrived home, but it was about a week before I got around to filing the police report as I was eager to see my friends back home and just settle down. Also, I was desperate to find a paying job, and so that seemed to get the majority of my free time. A few days passed before I researched who I needed to call and what information I needed to get. A police report from the location of loss: at first I assumed it was LAPD, but LAX has its own police force. Check.
I called the LAX police but had trouble getting ahold of the front desk, as apparently only one officer is on duty there at a time and the line was busy. A day later, I finally got through, only to be told that before they could take a report on my phone, I would have to show up in person with a copy of my signed cellular contract. I attempted to explain that I was in Ohio for the summer and would be unable to appear in person. Still, the officer persisted, asking how far I was from the airport. After about four iterations of "I'm in O-H-I-O" the officer seemed to grasp that I was the better part of 3000 miles away and said I could fax my contract. I then said my contract was in storage in LA. He said I could have Verizon mail me a new copy and it could be faxed to their office and then, and only then, would they take the report. I asked if there was a time limit to filing the report. "Don't worry," the officer replied. "You'll be fine."
Figuring I had plenty of time to file the claim within 60 days of the loss, it was about another week before I finally got around to requesting that contract from Verizon; admittedly, my mistake. When I got ahold of Verizon, they acted completely shocked that I should ask for such a thing. "I've never heard of that before," said the servicewoman. "Usually you just give them the make and model and you're good." But after a few minutes, she promised to send me a copy of my contract, saying that it would be here in a week at the latest. She provided me with the phone's electronic serial number and bade me good day.
That week ended yesterday. No contract. No contract today, either. I called Verizon to inquire what had happened. Their response? That no contract had been mailed because it was an "electronic contract" and, therefore, there was nothing to mail; I had waited a week for absolutely nothing, and not only that, but they could not send me the contract. However, they assured me that I could still file my claim using an officer's name, badge number, and the precinct phone number, and it should still be processed.
I call the LAX police back, and they will NOT divulge that information without first filing a police report. I explain that it is impossible for me to provide them with a contract, telling them that Verizon had told me there was nothing to send because the contract was electronic. The police officer then said, "Contract? What we need is a copy of the original receipt." They said that it's common for Verizon and Cingular to fax them a copy directly; "Usually they're so good about it."
AAAAAGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHH!!!
I call Verizon, and the serviceman again asked surprised at my request. "I've never heard of the police requiring a receipt to file a police report before." After about twenty minutes of being put on and off hold, the man tells me that a copy of the receipt will be in the mail and in my hand in 1-3 business days. He will not fax it to the police. I call the police back to make sure that if I supply them with the receipt they will file the report; they claim that they will. I ask if there is a time limit to file the report, and they say 30 days. I confirm that if I file before June 15 they will file the report, they say yes. I ask what happens if I can't file before then, and the officer says they will make an exception in my case, because I've been trying. I ask if I should provide any information so that there's a record of my trying; she claims that the call is recorded and record enough.
Ugh.
Both parties claim that the other is asking for something exceptional. Time is running out, admittedly through some fault of my own, but I also was delayed a week by someone's incompetance. They have my home phone number, my email address; couldn't Verizon have SOMEHOW notified me that they couldn't mail the damn contract before the entire week had passed?
Someone is being exceptionally uncooperative, giving me the runaround. I'm inclined to believe that it's happening a bit on both sides of the equation, and I'm caught in the middle. Three weeks without a cell phone.
And I haven't even begun to deal with the insurance company yet.
Tuesday, May 8, 2007
Goodness Gracious Me
Whew. That was quite the semester. Busy busy busy busy busy busy busy, film film film film film, edit edit edit edit edit, plan plan plan plan plan plan. WRITE WRITE WRITE WRITE WRITE.
Okay, I'll stop doing that. Regardless, this was undoubtedly the most hectic semester yet at USC and there were many times where I cursed my work load, my professors, and life in general. Clearly my intended "daily blog posts" didn't quite pan out, not by a long shot. I could only earn about half as much money as I needed to stay afloat because work-study on the weekends is verboten in 290-Land; the weekends are for filmmaking-time, friends.
Yet I can't say that I hated it because this has also been the most productive period in my entire life. I produced five short films and contributed to a sixth. I wrote a 102 page screenplay, which is the longest work I've ever managed to complete. I wrote two short scripts and a couple of short stories. None of these are masterpieces but, damn it, they're done and I made them. For the first time, the reality seemed to sink in that we're in film school and instead of passively absorbing and regurgitating rhetoric and theory we actually applied what we've learned and we know into practical creative enterprise.
It may have sucked at the time, but damn if it wasn't also exhilarating.
Now 'tis time for a break, though it will quite likely not feel like one, as I'm probably going to be working my ass off to earn a nice cushion of cash for next school year AND complete a second screenplay over the summer.
Ah, the joys of youthful ambition. How long before the weight of the world crushes it? Only time can tell.
Okay, I'll stop doing that. Regardless, this was undoubtedly the most hectic semester yet at USC and there were many times where I cursed my work load, my professors, and life in general. Clearly my intended "daily blog posts" didn't quite pan out, not by a long shot. I could only earn about half as much money as I needed to stay afloat because work-study on the weekends is verboten in 290-Land; the weekends are for filmmaking-time, friends.
Yet I can't say that I hated it because this has also been the most productive period in my entire life. I produced five short films and contributed to a sixth. I wrote a 102 page screenplay, which is the longest work I've ever managed to complete. I wrote two short scripts and a couple of short stories. None of these are masterpieces but, damn it, they're done and I made them. For the first time, the reality seemed to sink in that we're in film school and instead of passively absorbing and regurgitating rhetoric and theory we actually applied what we've learned and we know into practical creative enterprise.
It may have sucked at the time, but damn if it wasn't also exhilarating.
Now 'tis time for a break, though it will quite likely not feel like one, as I'm probably going to be working my ass off to earn a nice cushion of cash for next school year AND complete a second screenplay over the summer.
Ah, the joys of youthful ambition. How long before the weight of the world crushes it? Only time can tell.
Wednesday, March 21, 2007
Pretentious Polarizers are Preposterous
I'm sick to death of everything, every little damn piece of shit, in this country being politicized and, therefore, made polarizing.
Case in point, 300. Many of the negative reviews, in addition to deriding the film for being totally devoid of "substance," also chided the film for being a supposed piece of conservative propaganda. Iranian diplomats cry foul, that the film's depiction of Persians is "racist."
Excuse me? The film also has 40-foot-tall elephants, satyrs, and an obese tank of a monster with blades for arms. It's based on a goddamn comic book! It's PURE ENTERTAINMENT, for Christ's sake! It's an historical event retold through a lens of fantasy. Candy for the eyes. A fun diversion for two hours. Reading anything more into the film is like seeing shapes in the clouds--if you're looking for it, you'll find it.
It seems that since the bitterness of the 2004 election, people just can't agree to disagree anymore. Even our movie reviews for escapist entertainment are polluted by it. It's always "bloody liberals" or "bigot conservatives," blah blah blah blah blah. I'm fucking sick of it, aboslutely fucking sick of it. Can't people relax anymore? Does everyone have to be up on their high horse all the goddamned time?
Yes, we're in a war, and it sucks. It sucks the Big One. Just about everyone (excepting defense contractors) would agree on this point, because no one wants to be at war. But when I'm watching a film based on a comic book about epic battles and blood spattering all over the screen and there's lots of pretty colors, I don't want to be thinking about the war; I'm watching the damn movie so that I don't have to think about the war. If I wanted to think about the war, I'd watch Jarhead or Black Hawk Down or something grounded in reality, not a fantasy comic-book epic. Not every film needs to be an intellectual wank-fest ("Look, film's an art form too, just like books! See how literate and culturally aware I am! Oh, YEAHHHH!!")
I appreciate films of artistic merit and I appreciate staying on top of current events and everything, but goddamn it, I also appreciate being able to escape and relax once and a while; to enjoy something not because I found great meaning or because it agrees with me, but because it's fun.
Relax, people.
Case in point, 300. Many of the negative reviews, in addition to deriding the film for being totally devoid of "substance," also chided the film for being a supposed piece of conservative propaganda. Iranian diplomats cry foul, that the film's depiction of Persians is "racist."
Excuse me? The film also has 40-foot-tall elephants, satyrs, and an obese tank of a monster with blades for arms. It's based on a goddamn comic book! It's PURE ENTERTAINMENT, for Christ's sake! It's an historical event retold through a lens of fantasy. Candy for the eyes. A fun diversion for two hours. Reading anything more into the film is like seeing shapes in the clouds--if you're looking for it, you'll find it.
It seems that since the bitterness of the 2004 election, people just can't agree to disagree anymore. Even our movie reviews for escapist entertainment are polluted by it. It's always "bloody liberals" or "bigot conservatives," blah blah blah blah blah. I'm fucking sick of it, aboslutely fucking sick of it. Can't people relax anymore? Does everyone have to be up on their high horse all the goddamned time?
Yes, we're in a war, and it sucks. It sucks the Big One. Just about everyone (excepting defense contractors) would agree on this point, because no one wants to be at war. But when I'm watching a film based on a comic book about epic battles and blood spattering all over the screen and there's lots of pretty colors, I don't want to be thinking about the war; I'm watching the damn movie so that I don't have to think about the war. If I wanted to think about the war, I'd watch Jarhead or Black Hawk Down or something grounded in reality, not a fantasy comic-book epic. Not every film needs to be an intellectual wank-fest ("Look, film's an art form too, just like books! See how literate and culturally aware I am! Oh, YEAHHHH!!")
I appreciate films of artistic merit and I appreciate staying on top of current events and everything, but goddamn it, I also appreciate being able to escape and relax once and a while; to enjoy something not because I found great meaning or because it agrees with me, but because it's fun.
Relax, people.
Friday, February 2, 2007
Two Adamas, a Cylon, and a Mythical Planet Called Earth
Battlestar Galactica. For years, it was just a vague reference in my mind through mentions on television shows such as Doug and Eek the Cat. Eventually I saw a copy of the "movie" in the library, but not being thoroughly enticed I didn't bother to check it out. Towards the end of high school, after I'd decided to be a film student, it was announced that it was being remade for the Sci-Fi Channel by Ronald D. Moore, a producer/writer who had previously been involved with Star Trek. The awkward taste of Voyager still in my brain--and ignorant of the fact that Moore had no real involvement with that show--led me to the conclusion to give the show a pass. I was intrigued enough to search IMDb about both the original, discovering at last that it had been a short-lived TV series, and the new project, but that was it. It faded from my memory into obscurity.
Fast forward a couple of years. I'd enrolled at USC, in the screenwriting program. TV was a forgotten past-time, lost in an ocean of dreck. There was no interest in watching CSI: Birmingham, Law & Order: Safety Patrol Squad, or Buddies. But through the grapevine, through fellow screenwriting and interactive entertainment students, I'd heard astoundingly positive reviews of the new Battlestar Galactica TV show. I shrugged it off, however, because the Sci-Fi Channel and I have a checkered history, with the Frank Herbert's Dune miniseries and a one-time viewing of Stargate SG-1 seared into my brain by Satan's branding iron; i.e. their terrible acting, horrible CGI effects, and in the case of Stargate, a lame, lame plot. Still, I was encouraged to investigate further, finding many positive reviews from critics. I became interested, but not enough to invest in purchasing an entire season's box set for $60. Watching the show was placed on my backburner; very low priority.
Fast forward to November, 2006. The persistent praise has kept Battlestar in my thoughts. The show's won a Peabody Award. And there is the glory of Netflix. Clearly I had been missing something, and there's really no excuse for not trying. With that in mind, I placed the inital miniseries in my queue. The night it arrived in our mailbox, I gave it a spin.
And discovered what a frakking idiot I'd been.
From the intriguing initial line of dialogue--"Are you alive?"--to the cliffhanger ending, I was hooked. The writing was excellent, the effects of high quality, and the acting was very good. Reports that the series was even better than the miniseries had me immediately pumped to buy both the first and second seasons so that I could catch up during the hiatus and start watching the show when it returned in January.
I was somewhat delayed in this experience by not receiving the first season until Christmas, and because of said delay I didn't quite reach my goal; I missed the first episode, "Rapture," but was able to catch up in time for last week's "Taking a Break From All Your Worries." Watching two and a half season's worth of material in such a compressed timeframe was, frankly, a joy. The character arcs are dynamic and engaging, taking the characters to new places emotionally and maintaining the interest of the audience. Indeed, it is the emphasis of the show on its characters that maintains it high quality, as emphasizing what might, to some, be the selling point of most sci-fi shows--the space battles--would have reduced the impact the battles have when they do occur and led to some truly horrible and clichéd storylines.
My experience with Battlestar Galactica has been, in effect, the one I thought I had held when I was into 24, before I realized that show had devolved into a parody of itself that should be titled The Jack Bauer Power Hour and featured such paragons of dialogue as: "Just a few hours ago, Jack and Audrey were in love. Now they can barely stand to look at each other." Terrorists kidnapping the Secretary of Defense as a "diversion" for melting down all the nuclear reactors in the US as a "decoy" to shoot down Air Force One to get the missile codes to fire a nuclear warhead at Los Angeles. Yeah, right. (Perhaps it's gotten better after Season 4, but I haven't watched it since.)
Watching Battlestar has been one of the more rewarding pleasures I've gotten out of television. Luckily, I was bombarded with praise that kept me informed until I ultimately caved and watched the show. Unfortunately, my efforts at "conversion" have been met with absolutely no success whatsoever. Partially this has been due to others' unwillingness to watch a 3-hour miniseries to get involved in a show as opposed to a single 45-minute episode, and partially because it is a sci-fi show and the stigma that classification carries. I suppose this blog entry is another humble plea to those skeptics, those doubters that may stumble across its contents, a plea to please give it a chance. It may be a "sci-fi" show, but more than anything else, Battlestar Galactica is a character-driven drama, and a damn fine example of one to boot. Give it a chance.
So say we all.
Fast forward a couple of years. I'd enrolled at USC, in the screenwriting program. TV was a forgotten past-time, lost in an ocean of dreck. There was no interest in watching CSI: Birmingham, Law & Order: Safety Patrol Squad, or Buddies. But through the grapevine, through fellow screenwriting and interactive entertainment students, I'd heard astoundingly positive reviews of the new Battlestar Galactica TV show. I shrugged it off, however, because the Sci-Fi Channel and I have a checkered history, with the Frank Herbert's Dune miniseries and a one-time viewing of Stargate SG-1 seared into my brain by Satan's branding iron; i.e. their terrible acting, horrible CGI effects, and in the case of Stargate, a lame, lame plot. Still, I was encouraged to investigate further, finding many positive reviews from critics. I became interested, but not enough to invest in purchasing an entire season's box set for $60. Watching the show was placed on my backburner; very low priority.
Fast forward to November, 2006. The persistent praise has kept Battlestar in my thoughts. The show's won a Peabody Award. And there is the glory of Netflix. Clearly I had been missing something, and there's really no excuse for not trying. With that in mind, I placed the inital miniseries in my queue. The night it arrived in our mailbox, I gave it a spin.
And discovered what a frakking idiot I'd been.
From the intriguing initial line of dialogue--"Are you alive?"--to the cliffhanger ending, I was hooked. The writing was excellent, the effects of high quality, and the acting was very good. Reports that the series was even better than the miniseries had me immediately pumped to buy both the first and second seasons so that I could catch up during the hiatus and start watching the show when it returned in January.
I was somewhat delayed in this experience by not receiving the first season until Christmas, and because of said delay I didn't quite reach my goal; I missed the first episode, "Rapture," but was able to catch up in time for last week's "Taking a Break From All Your Worries." Watching two and a half season's worth of material in such a compressed timeframe was, frankly, a joy. The character arcs are dynamic and engaging, taking the characters to new places emotionally and maintaining the interest of the audience. Indeed, it is the emphasis of the show on its characters that maintains it high quality, as emphasizing what might, to some, be the selling point of most sci-fi shows--the space battles--would have reduced the impact the battles have when they do occur and led to some truly horrible and clichéd storylines.
My experience with Battlestar Galactica has been, in effect, the one I thought I had held when I was into 24, before I realized that show had devolved into a parody of itself that should be titled The Jack Bauer Power Hour and featured such paragons of dialogue as: "Just a few hours ago, Jack and Audrey were in love. Now they can barely stand to look at each other." Terrorists kidnapping the Secretary of Defense as a "diversion" for melting down all the nuclear reactors in the US as a "decoy" to shoot down Air Force One to get the missile codes to fire a nuclear warhead at Los Angeles. Yeah, right. (Perhaps it's gotten better after Season 4, but I haven't watched it since.)
Watching Battlestar has been one of the more rewarding pleasures I've gotten out of television. Luckily, I was bombarded with praise that kept me informed until I ultimately caved and watched the show. Unfortunately, my efforts at "conversion" have been met with absolutely no success whatsoever. Partially this has been due to others' unwillingness to watch a 3-hour miniseries to get involved in a show as opposed to a single 45-minute episode, and partially because it is a sci-fi show and the stigma that classification carries. I suppose this blog entry is another humble plea to those skeptics, those doubters that may stumble across its contents, a plea to please give it a chance. It may be a "sci-fi" show, but more than anything else, Battlestar Galactica is a character-driven drama, and a damn fine example of one to boot. Give it a chance.
So say we all.
Tuesday, January 30, 2007
Most Of The Time, It's A Waste Of Time
As you could probably tell, I'm not doing so hot on the "daily" blog entry thing. Then again, since I'm just about the only person who reads this (as far as I know, anyway), I don't really see the point, and especially when I'm as busy as I have been for the last couple of weeks.
Being sick certainly hasn't helped with the workload. Seems to be quite the communicable cold that's been going around campus, lately--perfectly timed. Our schedules are such that no one can afford to take the time to get better before returning to class or work, and hence everyone gets to share in the joy that is phlegm. The wonders of the modern age, will they never cease?
Bitterness aside, I've never felt more productive in my entire life than I have in the past several weeks. I've completed almost thirty pages of a screenplay, made two short films, and that's pretty much it as far as feeling productive is concerned--critical analysis of perpetual snoozefests is not my idea of productivity. It seems like the other two classes are just filler, anyway--the semester's core is based in 290 and screenwriting.
Housing concerns have once again reared their malformed heads, but at least this time they should save David and I some money and future hassles.
Haven't had much of a nightlife, lately, though arguably I've never had much of one. Next to "life of the party" in the dictionary, you will not find my picture. Just not really a part of my personality. That said, I feel like I need to get the fuck out of Dodge a little more often than I've been managing to. This weekend should offer some respite since I don't have any work to do for 290 other than future planning, so perhaps I'll try to live a little. Not that the killing of brain cells to produce euphoric sensations should really be considered as "living" as death is the opposite of life, but who gives a shit? It relaxes you, and my gods, I could use some relaxation.
Yes, I used the plural "gods." Not that I've discovered a polytheistic religion or anything, just a side-effect of watching Battlestar Galactica. I really ought to write a post regarding my experiences with the show, as it's perhaps one of the most interesting I've ever had with a television series. Next time I'm bored.
Probably one reason no one reads this is that if they're here and they know who I am, they probably know most if not everything that I've written down. Even if they're not here, if they know who I am and I talk to them at all, they probably know most if not everything I've written down. Who wants to read redundant ranting garbage? The other possibility is that this is read but no one comments and I'm not sure I have any way of accessing a counter that tells me how often the blog is accessed. And a final possibility is that I'm writing this for myself anyway and who gives a flipping fuck? I write it, I read it, and it's good practice to express oneself every so often. It keeps the language and typing skills healthy and lean.
Blogging. It does your mind good.
Being sick certainly hasn't helped with the workload. Seems to be quite the communicable cold that's been going around campus, lately--perfectly timed. Our schedules are such that no one can afford to take the time to get better before returning to class or work, and hence everyone gets to share in the joy that is phlegm. The wonders of the modern age, will they never cease?
Bitterness aside, I've never felt more productive in my entire life than I have in the past several weeks. I've completed almost thirty pages of a screenplay, made two short films, and that's pretty much it as far as feeling productive is concerned--critical analysis of perpetual snoozefests is not my idea of productivity. It seems like the other two classes are just filler, anyway--the semester's core is based in 290 and screenwriting.
Housing concerns have once again reared their malformed heads, but at least this time they should save David and I some money and future hassles.
Haven't had much of a nightlife, lately, though arguably I've never had much of one. Next to "life of the party" in the dictionary, you will not find my picture. Just not really a part of my personality. That said, I feel like I need to get the fuck out of Dodge a little more often than I've been managing to. This weekend should offer some respite since I don't have any work to do for 290 other than future planning, so perhaps I'll try to live a little. Not that the killing of brain cells to produce euphoric sensations should really be considered as "living" as death is the opposite of life, but who gives a shit? It relaxes you, and my gods, I could use some relaxation.
Yes, I used the plural "gods." Not that I've discovered a polytheistic religion or anything, just a side-effect of watching Battlestar Galactica. I really ought to write a post regarding my experiences with the show, as it's perhaps one of the most interesting I've ever had with a television series. Next time I'm bored.
Probably one reason no one reads this is that if they're here and they know who I am, they probably know most if not everything that I've written down. Even if they're not here, if they know who I am and I talk to them at all, they probably know most if not everything I've written down. Who wants to read redundant ranting garbage? The other possibility is that this is read but no one comments and I'm not sure I have any way of accessing a counter that tells me how often the blog is accessed. And a final possibility is that I'm writing this for myself anyway and who gives a flipping fuck? I write it, I read it, and it's good practice to express oneself every so often. It keeps the language and typing skills healthy and lean.
Blogging. It does your mind good.
Wednesday, January 17, 2007
Hickory Dockory Dock
The mouse ran up the clock
One week has passed, with a second on the way out. One project has passed, with a second about to be embarked upon. Classes are long, making the days seem to drag on forever. Wednesday is the new Friday. Friday, while free from classes, is a work day so that I may not go broke. Weekends are project time. Life is inserted somewhere in between.
The clock struck one
Ideas are a dime a dozen, but I don't think I can make a short about carnivorous Oscar Meyer hot dogs; at least, not this weekend. I might be tired, I might be confused because we haven't really been given our parameters yet, but nothing really viable seems to be coming up. Something weird, maybe, but weird for the sake of weird? Then again, weird for the sake of weird. Pretension mocking pretension? Or fucking hand puppets?
The mouse ran down
Thought my cold/congestion was on the outs, but had a resurgence today. Perhaps the weather? Perhaps not. Also, need to catch up on Battlestar Galactica episodes by Sunday. Almost done with the second season. It's gonna be rough with all the work that needs to get done, but I'll be damned if I don't try. Wish I didn't suck so bad at Gears of War. Bad, horrible reflexes. If I can get through the next couple of weeks, I can do this. Go, motivation! Go!
Hickory Dickory Dock
One week has passed, with a second on the way out. One project has passed, with a second about to be embarked upon. Classes are long, making the days seem to drag on forever. Wednesday is the new Friday. Friday, while free from classes, is a work day so that I may not go broke. Weekends are project time. Life is inserted somewhere in between.
The clock struck one
Ideas are a dime a dozen, but I don't think I can make a short about carnivorous Oscar Meyer hot dogs; at least, not this weekend. I might be tired, I might be confused because we haven't really been given our parameters yet, but nothing really viable seems to be coming up. Something weird, maybe, but weird for the sake of weird? Then again, weird for the sake of weird. Pretension mocking pretension? Or fucking hand puppets?
The mouse ran down
Thought my cold/congestion was on the outs, but had a resurgence today. Perhaps the weather? Perhaps not. Also, need to catch up on Battlestar Galactica episodes by Sunday. Almost done with the second season. It's gonna be rough with all the work that needs to get done, but I'll be damned if I don't try. Wish I didn't suck so bad at Gears of War. Bad, horrible reflexes. If I can get through the next couple of weeks, I can do this. Go, motivation! Go!
Hickory Dickory Dock
Friday, January 12, 2007
Another Time, Highlander!
It's official: this semester I shall be living film, whether I be eating, sleeping, or scrounging through garbage.
In the next couple of days, I'll be shooting my first short for 290, for which I am attempting to storyboard as I type. I've also begun thinking about other projects for this semester, and have actually managed to be timely in preparing the next segment of my script for 206. I was advised that I'd have to master time management for this term, and after this week I wholeheartedly concur. But I'm not worried about it being hard, because it all is starting seem like it's gonna be fun--a helluva lot of work to be sure, but fun.
Thinking of ideas, while I was having a late-night snack before going to bed I flipped on the TV and the first Highlander film was on. Having seen it through Netflix last semester, I was reminded of how I felt that the concept was interesting, but the movie is ultimately unenjoyable because of some über-cheesy lines, an unattractive romantic interest for the hero, cheap special effects, and some disjointed storytelling. Also strange is having a Frenchman playing a Scottish highlander and a Scotsman playing a Spaniard-Egyptian nobleman, though Sean Connery is easily the best part of the film after the cool concept.
I couldn't help but think of how the film could be improved if it were to be remade, making the story more cohesive and taking advantage of improvements in special effects technology. Remaking something that could artistically benefit from the process, in other words, as opposed to remaking something that was already successful to make money (*ahem Psycho *ahem). I thought about this watching it in the fall and dismissed it, but the need seemed equally pronounced watching the little snippet I caught of the film last night. I suppose that any attempt to improve it would raise calls of "Lambert forever!" and "Connery rulez, b&@tch!!" or some other such deriding comment.
Certainly, Highlander is entertaining to watch. While not exactly nail-biting, it has plentiful action sequences and the "cheese" factor provides a few good laughs, and Clancy Brown as the Kurgan always injects some life into his scenes; you kick ass, Mr. Krabs. However, this is all a very-low level of enjoyment; enjoyable, yes, but only in that "this is so 80s" way. As a fan of fantasy and science-fiction, I find it a shame that the concept of the film be left to wither in what is objectively a mediocre effort. I've not subjected myself to the sequels, which I've heard are abysmal and make Highlander appear to be at the level of Citizen Kane, nor do I remember much of the television series, save that it seemed kind of cool when I was in elementary school.
A story about a race of Immortals fighting to control the fate of humanity is cool. Bad lightning effects and lines fit for a Steven Seagal movie are only cool in a "that sucks so bad it's AWESOME!" way. Highlander deserves to exist in a state of true quality. Obviously I'm busy now, but some day I may just have to give it a crack at rewriting the film just to see if I can do better, and to see if it can be done better. Some day, but not this day.
This day I am 290's bitch.
P.S. If anybody is having trouble getting mini-DVs this weekend, I have plenty for the time being, so just let me know. Good luck!
In the next couple of days, I'll be shooting my first short for 290, for which I am attempting to storyboard as I type. I've also begun thinking about other projects for this semester, and have actually managed to be timely in preparing the next segment of my script for 206. I was advised that I'd have to master time management for this term, and after this week I wholeheartedly concur. But I'm not worried about it being hard, because it all is starting seem like it's gonna be fun--a helluva lot of work to be sure, but fun.
Thinking of ideas, while I was having a late-night snack before going to bed I flipped on the TV and the first Highlander film was on. Having seen it through Netflix last semester, I was reminded of how I felt that the concept was interesting, but the movie is ultimately unenjoyable because of some über-cheesy lines, an unattractive romantic interest for the hero, cheap special effects, and some disjointed storytelling. Also strange is having a Frenchman playing a Scottish highlander and a Scotsman playing a Spaniard-Egyptian nobleman, though Sean Connery is easily the best part of the film after the cool concept.
I couldn't help but think of how the film could be improved if it were to be remade, making the story more cohesive and taking advantage of improvements in special effects technology. Remaking something that could artistically benefit from the process, in other words, as opposed to remaking something that was already successful to make money (*ahem Psycho *ahem). I thought about this watching it in the fall and dismissed it, but the need seemed equally pronounced watching the little snippet I caught of the film last night. I suppose that any attempt to improve it would raise calls of "Lambert forever!" and "Connery rulez, b&@tch!!" or some other such deriding comment.
Certainly, Highlander is entertaining to watch. While not exactly nail-biting, it has plentiful action sequences and the "cheese" factor provides a few good laughs, and Clancy Brown as the Kurgan always injects some life into his scenes; you kick ass, Mr. Krabs. However, this is all a very-low level of enjoyment; enjoyable, yes, but only in that "this is so 80s" way. As a fan of fantasy and science-fiction, I find it a shame that the concept of the film be left to wither in what is objectively a mediocre effort. I've not subjected myself to the sequels, which I've heard are abysmal and make Highlander appear to be at the level of Citizen Kane, nor do I remember much of the television series, save that it seemed kind of cool when I was in elementary school.
A story about a race of Immortals fighting to control the fate of humanity is cool. Bad lightning effects and lines fit for a Steven Seagal movie are only cool in a "that sucks so bad it's AWESOME!" way. Highlander deserves to exist in a state of true quality. Obviously I'm busy now, but some day I may just have to give it a crack at rewriting the film just to see if I can do better, and to see if it can be done better. Some day, but not this day.
This day I am 290's bitch.
P.S. If anybody is having trouble getting mini-DVs this weekend, I have plenty for the time being, so just let me know. Good luck!
Monday, January 8, 2007
Condition: Red, Report to Battle Stations!
The klaxons are blaring, people are scrambling, and an atmosphere of rising stress begins to saturate the air...
Classes started today. Fortunately, I had only one and it didn't start until 2 PM--History of International Cinema, Post WWII. Having taken the "Prior to WWII" version of the class previously, I felt I had a good idea of what to expect and was sure that this would be a go-with-the-flow, easy-as-pie Critical Studies class. While it remains to be seen if I was totally wrong, I quickly discovered that this class will not be the cakewalk that its predecessor was. The lectures aren't based from PowerPoint slides, so my attention will be required; there is an additional film that must be seen outside of class per week; four unannounced quizzes based upon the readings of which three will count for a quarter of our grade; and if today's film was an indicator, a series of slow and unrelentingly pretentious films to be watched. I give the Italians props for what they attempted to achieve, but that doesn't mean I found watching a man and his son search for his stolen bicycle for an hour and a half to be entertainment, especially since you know that, because its a "neo-realist" film, that they won't find it.
I was also privy to some potentially unnerving information regarding our week's assignment for 290, which I have no doubt shall be the most unforgiving class I've taken yet at 'SC. I'll leave more specific thoughts about that for when I've heard the poison straight from the source--which ought to be tomorrow--but it sounds like this weekend could be the beginning of all the "F-U-N."
My condolences go out to all the Buckeyes fans out there. While I'm not exactly scarlet-and-gray myself, I do have to say that it was a bit sad to see them take such a beating when they were supposed to be the clear favorite. Makes me wonder about a Trojans VS. Buckeyes match-up all the more, and what might have been.
Also, the love for my Xbox 360 continues to blossom. Oblivion is awesome, if a bit daunting, and Gears of War is a perpetual explosion of tension from checkpoint to checkpoint (though I admittedly am terrible on my own; props and thanks to Chris for the co-op session last week). I also saw David play Twilight Princess on his Wii today, and was somewhat disappointed. Granted that I wasn't playing, so the immersion factor was non-existant, but the graphics were somewhat of a let-down (seemed very washed out) and the presentation just seemed lacking. I hope to give it a try in the future, and I'd still like to give the Wii a shot, but I no longer have any qualms whatsoever about my decision on getting the 360. Plan on catching up and getting Knights of the Old Republic soon.
I heard from Neil today, and will be seeing him and DeSilva tomorrow after classes. We'll probably go out and get a bite to eat, which will be a nice change of pace for me as I've already grown tired of my groceries (because they're the same thing I was eating last semester!). Looking forward to catching up with them.
Lastly, I've been trying to get back into Lovecraft recently and coming up with story ideas similar to his stylistically. I'm not too sure when I'm going to have enough time to work on any such ideas, but they keep creeping into my head and fit perfectly with my sensibilities. As far as Lovecraft himself is concerned, his prose can be dry and his style repetitive (e.g. "The abomination was horrible beyond measure, such that any sane man, upon catching sight of its wicked flesh, would descend into madness..."), but his stories can be quite evocative in the right doses, and his mythos is interestingly creepy. Possibilities, I guess.
I suppose this'll do for now. Have to get up at 9 AM, which is early for the average college student, and certainly for this one.
See ya tomorrow. Same blog time, same blog station.
Classes started today. Fortunately, I had only one and it didn't start until 2 PM--History of International Cinema, Post WWII. Having taken the "Prior to WWII" version of the class previously, I felt I had a good idea of what to expect and was sure that this would be a go-with-the-flow, easy-as-pie Critical Studies class. While it remains to be seen if I was totally wrong, I quickly discovered that this class will not be the cakewalk that its predecessor was. The lectures aren't based from PowerPoint slides, so my attention will be required; there is an additional film that must be seen outside of class per week; four unannounced quizzes based upon the readings of which three will count for a quarter of our grade; and if today's film was an indicator, a series of slow and unrelentingly pretentious films to be watched. I give the Italians props for what they attempted to achieve, but that doesn't mean I found watching a man and his son search for his stolen bicycle for an hour and a half to be entertainment, especially since you know that, because its a "neo-realist" film, that they won't find it.
I was also privy to some potentially unnerving information regarding our week's assignment for 290, which I have no doubt shall be the most unforgiving class I've taken yet at 'SC. I'll leave more specific thoughts about that for when I've heard the poison straight from the source--which ought to be tomorrow--but it sounds like this weekend could be the beginning of all the "F-U-N."
My condolences go out to all the Buckeyes fans out there. While I'm not exactly scarlet-and-gray myself, I do have to say that it was a bit sad to see them take such a beating when they were supposed to be the clear favorite. Makes me wonder about a Trojans VS. Buckeyes match-up all the more, and what might have been.
Also, the love for my Xbox 360 continues to blossom. Oblivion is awesome, if a bit daunting, and Gears of War is a perpetual explosion of tension from checkpoint to checkpoint (though I admittedly am terrible on my own; props and thanks to Chris for the co-op session last week). I also saw David play Twilight Princess on his Wii today, and was somewhat disappointed. Granted that I wasn't playing, so the immersion factor was non-existant, but the graphics were somewhat of a let-down (seemed very washed out) and the presentation just seemed lacking. I hope to give it a try in the future, and I'd still like to give the Wii a shot, but I no longer have any qualms whatsoever about my decision on getting the 360. Plan on catching up and getting Knights of the Old Republic soon.
I heard from Neil today, and will be seeing him and DeSilva tomorrow after classes. We'll probably go out and get a bite to eat, which will be a nice change of pace for me as I've already grown tired of my groceries (because they're the same thing I was eating last semester!). Looking forward to catching up with them.
Lastly, I've been trying to get back into Lovecraft recently and coming up with story ideas similar to his stylistically. I'm not too sure when I'm going to have enough time to work on any such ideas, but they keep creeping into my head and fit perfectly with my sensibilities. As far as Lovecraft himself is concerned, his prose can be dry and his style repetitive (e.g. "The abomination was horrible beyond measure, such that any sane man, upon catching sight of its wicked flesh, would descend into madness..."), but his stories can be quite evocative in the right doses, and his mythos is interestingly creepy. Possibilities, I guess.
I suppose this'll do for now. Have to get up at 9 AM, which is early for the average college student, and certainly for this one.
See ya tomorrow. Same blog time, same blog station.
A Prelude
Howdy, y'all. This entry will be short and sweet due to my desire to go to bed, but I thought it would be a good idea to get the ball rolling, so to speak.
A new year, a new semester, and I thought "What the hell? Why not a new blog?" So, here it is--a new and hopefully improved effort at blogging by yours truly. I'm going to attempt to be fairly regular in my postings, though I'm not going to force myself into any deadlines as yet. Daily would be great as exercise for writing purposes, though I'm anticipating a very hectic workload ahead and that may not be possible. We'll just have to wait and see.
I arrived back in LA after spending Winter Break at home in Columbus, Ohio, where my family lives. I wish I could say I enjoyed the break, but the best I can do is say it was relaxing and I finally got to see a few people I had really been missing. I was suffering from a cold the entire time--from which I am still recovering--and it didn't snow, which, for someone who grew up with snow at Christmastime, can be a real obstacle against getting into the "spirit" of things. Lastly, my grandmother died of what we suppose was Parkinson's disease, though my grandpa didn't want an autopsy performed so we'll never know for certain. Some break, huh?
But it's over now. That time has come and gone. Much lies ahead in the times to come, and that includes this new blog. I will be writing about those times in here, along with my thoughts, my hopes, and my dreams.
A new semester begins tomorrow at USC, and while I don't have to get up early, it seems that I always end up staying up later as the semester's drag on, which means that I should probably get a move on it so as to not end up on a third-shift schedule by the time it's all over.
See you tomorrow...or is it today?
A new year, a new semester, and I thought "What the hell? Why not a new blog?" So, here it is--a new and hopefully improved effort at blogging by yours truly. I'm going to attempt to be fairly regular in my postings, though I'm not going to force myself into any deadlines as yet. Daily would be great as exercise for writing purposes, though I'm anticipating a very hectic workload ahead and that may not be possible. We'll just have to wait and see.
I arrived back in LA after spending Winter Break at home in Columbus, Ohio, where my family lives. I wish I could say I enjoyed the break, but the best I can do is say it was relaxing and I finally got to see a few people I had really been missing. I was suffering from a cold the entire time--from which I am still recovering--and it didn't snow, which, for someone who grew up with snow at Christmastime, can be a real obstacle against getting into the "spirit" of things. Lastly, my grandmother died of what we suppose was Parkinson's disease, though my grandpa didn't want an autopsy performed so we'll never know for certain. Some break, huh?
But it's over now. That time has come and gone. Much lies ahead in the times to come, and that includes this new blog. I will be writing about those times in here, along with my thoughts, my hopes, and my dreams.
A new semester begins tomorrow at USC, and while I don't have to get up early, it seems that I always end up staying up later as the semester's drag on, which means that I should probably get a move on it so as to not end up on a third-shift schedule by the time it's all over.
See you tomorrow...or is it today?
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