Howdy, y'all.
Did some quick changes to spruce up the ol' blog, make it a tad bit less gloomy and such, you know. I know this ain't the first time I said this, but I'm gonna aim to update this more often; right now, it's more forgotten-bastard-child than blog, seein' as it only gets an update every few months.
Anyways, look for a new blog entry of substance soon; hopefully the first of many.
Gosh durn. Pudding.
Monday, July 21, 2008
Tuesday, April 8, 2008
Abominations
Man, it has been a while. Then again, I don't think anyone reads this (or if they do, they leave no evidence, like tricksy rats they is) so who gives a damn?
I'm not writing a noir, I'm writing a melodrama about the Xenia, OH tornado in 1974. Or, rather, the aftermath. I don't think I want to write a melodrama ever again. They are abominations to the logic of the mind.
Black MacBooks have issues. My logic board and then my hard drive failed within a month of each other ON THE SAME DAY OF THE WEEK. Monday nights. Creepy. As Charles so wisely suggested, do not buy anything Apple that isn't white or silver; they will die on you because they are an abomination to the Apple name.
Mass Effect is like a bad Stargate SG-1 episode. Maybe a good episode. I don't know because I never watched that show. I do know that it reminds of non-Battlestar Sci-Fi channel fare, and that is the epitome of abomination.
Actually, I take that back. The epitome of abomination is CNN, Fox News, and anything else that dares to call itself TV news. Watching G4 is like staring into Satan's acid-glistening asshole. And an Ohio-made horror film, Horrors of War, about Nazi zombies, makes my eyes and ears bleed; however, it was partially shot on my grandfather's farm. Probably helped the crops grow a little better that year.
Time to eat.
I'm not writing a noir, I'm writing a melodrama about the Xenia, OH tornado in 1974. Or, rather, the aftermath. I don't think I want to write a melodrama ever again. They are abominations to the logic of the mind.
Black MacBooks have issues. My logic board and then my hard drive failed within a month of each other ON THE SAME DAY OF THE WEEK. Monday nights. Creepy. As Charles so wisely suggested, do not buy anything Apple that isn't white or silver; they will die on you because they are an abomination to the Apple name.
Mass Effect is like a bad Stargate SG-1 episode. Maybe a good episode. I don't know because I never watched that show. I do know that it reminds of non-Battlestar Sci-Fi channel fare, and that is the epitome of abomination.
Actually, I take that back. The epitome of abomination is CNN, Fox News, and anything else that dares to call itself TV news. Watching G4 is like staring into Satan's acid-glistening asshole. And an Ohio-made horror film, Horrors of War, about Nazi zombies, makes my eyes and ears bleed; however, it was partially shot on my grandfather's farm. Probably helped the crops grow a little better that year.
Time to eat.
Thursday, November 22, 2007
A Bit of Gobbling Before Turkey
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.
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.
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.
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